#so happy to get away from bristol for a bit things are getting so bad

[squadron-goals]

A day at Staffel 11 (by Lothar von Richthofen)

The squadron was divided into two groups, so that half of the squadron always flew together. My brother, as the leader, sometimes flew with one group, sometimes with the other. My group was led by Schäfer and Wolff, Allmenröder and Lübbert were also part of it. That was the best number to fly together at the time. Later on, everyone in the group earned the Pour le mérite, except Leutnant Lübbert who unfortunately died before he got it. He had already done the most impressive things in his former unit. Only death could prevent our dear comrade from earning the Pour le mérite. On this day the group had the morning shift meaning that from dawn on we had to be ready to start any minute; that was very early – between four and five a.m. After waking up he sat in the starting shed when the telephone rang: “Six Bristol from Arras to Douai”. We got up. At 3,000 meters, a broken cloud cover. Just as we took off, we saw the Englishmen right below the thick clouds near our airfield. My brother's red plane was waiting ready on the field, the mechanics were working. But there was no sign of my brother. We caught up with the English but they flew very nimbly between the clouds so none of us was able to shoot one down. Every time you were within firing range behind a plane, it disappeared into the clouds. This was my first dogfight and I was very proud when I finally managed to get into position and land a few hits into the plane. I shot its fuel tank empty, but the next moment it disappeared behind the clouds. Since almost all aircraft have a reserve tank, he probably switched to it. At least he kept flying. Of course, I was very disappointed that he didn't go down, but that was too much of an expectation for the first fight, as my brother assured me later. None of us had managed to shoot one down and we returned to our airfield about half an hour later. There was my brother's plane again, but we could tell from afar by the hard-working mechanics and its position that he had been away. That was confirmed immediately by the mechanics: Yes, Herr Rittmeister took off about five minutes after us. He was still lying in bed when the message came. He quickly put on his flying clothes over his pajamas and off he went. After twenty minutes he was back and had shot down an Englishman. When we returned, he was already back in bed, sleeping soundly as if nothing had happened. Only a few hits in his aircraft and some reports of enemy aircraft being shot down bore witness to his flight. We were all a bit ashamed; we had been five, we had started earlier and landed later, and did not bring down a single plane. When we gathered for our second flight at eight o'clock, my brother showed up. He complained about the English, those nocturnal disturbers of the peace who force peace-loving people out of bed in the middle of the night. We congratulated him on his victory, told him about our experience and he about his. He had taken off straight towards the front. A few kilometers from the front, an Englishman suddenly came through the clouds and flew directly in front of my brother. After a few seconds the battle was decided. The Englishman crashed down in flames. The debris from his plane landed on our side of the lines. The breakfast we had just eaten gave us new courage and we put on our flying gear.

Fighter flying is rightly called that because it is a real hunt for enemy aircraft [explanation by the translator: in German fighter flying is called Jagdfliegerei, Jagd means hunt]. The game passes by consistently, but at the most indeterminate times possible. This time we had bad luck. The Englishmen were probably still sitting at the breakfast table. I made a commitment to always fly 50 meters next to my brother because I was convinced that this way, I was sure to get the first shot in. I managed to stay close to him and was happy that it worked so well. A lone English reconnaissance crossed over the front. I was so busy with concentrating to fly properly and stay on course that I did not even see him; my brother of course did. Out of the sudden he turned his machine around, positioned himself quickly behind the Englishman and at the same moment the plane already broke apart. The bullets had sawed one wing right off. As if a sack of large and small scraps of paper had been poured out, that's how the what was left of the English plane looked like. I observed the scene from a distance of around a thousand meters, although I had wanted to stay close to my brother. I had not been able to do this. He flew the same type of aircraft powered by the same engine, so it had to be me. Flying fast must be learned. Because you can fly slow and fast. You can fly so slowly that you almost stand on one spot. Then you have to the engine run very slowly and leave the machine in the same position; then the aircraft gradually hardly moves forward, but sags, i.e. it gradually lowers, and this carries the aircraft. In this case, it is very unpleasant that the steering no longer reacts properly, as there is no longer any air pressure on it. Such an exercise at low altitudes is of course not recommended for beginners. This is the slowest flying. Then you can always accelerate a little until you reach the average speed. At the average speed the aircraft climbs up. If I then turn the aircraft more and more upside down with the engine running at full power, I can achieve a considerable speed, if not twice the speed, then at least a very considerable increase. Of course, this puts a lot of strain on the machine and the engine. This must first be learned. It sounds very easy. But I know many people who never learn it. But I think this is more important than some other tricks, such as the loop. The loop is more something for spectators. It looks very nice, but has no value for the fight. The purpose of the loop is to be admired by amateurs and is usually practiced at home or in front of spectators.

After this one Englishman was shot down, we flew back to base. After the flights we mostly talked about the battles we had just experienced. A very funny image is that the person describing a dogfight is waving his arms around; he is talking with his hands. To teach us something, to tell us what we had done wrong and right, the air battles were usually followed by a meeting. But my brother also achieved his goal in other ways. For example, when he took over the squadron, Wolff and Allmenröder were there. The two of them had no experience at all at that time, and before an air combat fear outweighs patriotism. In the first few days my brother flew off with the two, attacked several Englishmen, and his plane received a lot of hits without any success himself, as the two did not help. Of course, my brother was very angry about this, but he didn't blame the two of them and didn't say a word about it. Wolff and Allmenröder, who both later earned the Pour le mérite, told me that this was more effective than the biggest tongue lashing. After the meeting, my brother had to take care of the rest of the tasks for which a squadron leader is responsible. At lunch a war correspondent came to visit. I´m not sure if Manfred was more admired by our guest or by his comrades. Right after the meal there usually was a half hour break scheduled. Sometimes we flew five to seven times a day; The golden rules to keep it up: Eat, sleep and not a drop of alcohol.

My brother shot down another English double-seater in the evening. The aircraft was still making a normal glide, despite the fact that the occupants had been fatally shot by many bullets. However, the plane continued to glide into the roof of a house and crashed completely. As it was very close to us, my brother drove with us in the car to the crash site to find out the number of the plane and other things. When we arrived at the spot, it was not a pretty sight. Half of the plane was still hanging on the roof, the other half was lying on the road. The English had dropped bombs nearby, so the dogfight was watched by many, and a crowd of soldiers looked at the wreckage of the English plane. When we had established everything, we started on our way home. In the meantime, my brother had been recognised by the soldiers, and we left the village accompanied by a thunderous cheer.

#manfred von richthofen #ein heldenleben

[nervousladytraveler]

Dare I ask, could you give us some snippet from Like someone… sequel?🙈

@veryflowerobservation Any time! The good news is that I'm happy to share wee snippets of that project whenever I'm asked. The bad news is that I don't think I'll post any of it to AO3 until the whole thing is complete (I've come to believe serial posting hurts my writing process but more on that later). Here's a rough (very unedited) bit that takes place about 5 months after the epilogue. The lines in bold are lifted from The Miller's Dance (and played with). Don't worry--it's not the putrid throat. And thanks for the ask!

---

“Oh, hello Ross,” Demelza whispered hoarsely into the phone. Ross could tell at once something was amiss and that she was trying to hide it. 

“Did I get you at a bad time?” It was better to coax information out of her. If he asked her outright she’d be on the defensive.

“No no, I’m just,” she paused and coughed, careful to move away from her mobile as she did so. Still he could hear how it caught in her throat, jagged and raw, almost like a dog's bark.

“Demelza?” he said gently but with an undisguised firmness. “You don't sound well.“

“Thanks, Ross. And I thought I sounded like a sexy old movie star,” she laughed. Then the cough returned and he could imagine her wincing in pain. “Yes, yes, I’m under the weather. I made it to my lecture today but then came straight home and haven’t moved since. It’s some stupid flu or somethin’...”

“Something? What are your symptoms, besides the sore throat?”

“Well, that’s enough really--it does feel like razor blades--and I ache all over,” she sighed.

“Sounds like the flu. Any fever?”

“I dunno. I don't have a thermometer--well not one for humans anyway. But I don't feel warm--I’m really cold in fact.”

“Bundle up and get in bed. Take some paracetamol and drink loads of fluids,” he said. He knew all the things he was supposed to tell her but somehow his words rang empty. She needed more than chicken broth and a hot water bottle--she needed care. The one thing he couldn't give to her from so far away.

“Okay, Ross, maybe I’ll do that.”

“Maybe?” he laughed. Still, she was more agreeable than he’d expected. That wasn’t a good sign. “I’ll ring you later to check in?”

“Yes, I’ll keep my mobile next to my pillow.”

“Take care, my love.”

As soon as Demelza rang off, he wasted no time texting Caroline for back up

“Poor thing! I’m in London for the week,” she replied. “I’ll let Hugh know. He should be back at the flat later tonight.”

Ross looked out the window at the grey February sky and tried to weigh all the facts in front of him. The weather forecast did call for snow but not until later that evening. It was not quite a three hour drive but if he left now, he could be in Bristol before dinnertime. 

All he’d need to do is make one phone call and pack an overnight bag. Maybe he should pack for a few days--he had a meeting in Exeter on Thursday afternoon, so he could stay until then.

Nowhere in his thinking did he consciously acknowledge the spectre of Hugh Armitage or the need to get to Demelza before Hugh did.

---

Ross rang the bell to Demelza’s flat then stamped his feet on the pavement in a futile attempt to warm them. For the duration of the drive, the heat had blasted on his face but he couldn't get the vents properly adjusted to circulate to his lower extremities as well. It was frustrating enough to make him miss his old truck. Three hours was a long time to be sitting still in the cold and he wasn’t sure he had much feeling left, certainly his toes felt numb. Still he felt good about his overall timing--the first flakes of snow had only begun to fall just as he parked the car.

There was no answer but rather than feeling impatient, he felt guilty about rousing her if she was asleep. He knew her neighbour held a spare key and was considering ringing her flat when the intercom crackled to life.

“Yes?” A familiar voice croaked.

“Demelza, love, it's me.” Before he had a chance to say anything further--like explain why he’d come--she was already buzzing him in. Once he stepped inside, he could hear the locks opening on her flat door two floors up.

“Ross! Oh Ross!” she called down the stairs. He looked up to see she was in her pyjamas and had some sort of blanket wrapped around her.

“Stay there,” he said, relieved that she was happy to see him. Did he expect she might not be?

“In fact, go back inside,” he said and took the stairs two at a time. 

When he finally met her at the door, she threw her arms around him. He felt her damp face as she buried it in his shoulder. He didn't need to put his hand of forehead to know she was burning up. 

“Oh Ross,” she gasped. “I can't believe you came. You came for…”

“I came for you. But let’s get you back to bed.” He realised he was speaking to her as though she were some fragile creature. 

I’m not a bird with a broken wing, he remembered her saying once.

“Don’t argue. To bed.” Ross dropped his bag at the door so he could put his arm under her to help her walk, ready to carry her if she so much as stumbled.

“I’m alright, I really am,” she tried to smile as she crawled into the dishevelled bed. 

“Of course you are,” he said, and smoothed the sheets out next to her and tucked the duvet around her legs. “Sit up,” he said gently, and turned the pillows over to reveal the sides that were a bit more fresh. 

“I can't believe you came all this way,” she muttered but he’d already left the room.  

When he came back he had a glass of water and a blister pack of paracetamol he’d found in the bathroom. 

“Have you taken any recently?” he asked.

“No, I know you told me to and I meant to but I was so sleepy so I just went straight to bed. I’m sorry, Ross…”

“Don't apologise to me, but you’ve a fever and we need to bring it down,” he said. “Okay, take two. And no matter how you may not feel up to it, you have to drink the water.”

“Ouch,” she whimpered as she tried to swallow.

“I know.” He patted her knee. “I’ll make some tea with honey in a moment and that will go down easier. How’s the…” he began just as the cough he was so worried about chose that very moment to rattle about in her lovely chest. She tried to turn away but her whole body shook. Ross wanted to pull her into his arms and crush her body to his and absorb her pain.

“Here, let me,”he said instead and put a cool wet flannel to her forehead. She shivered and he took her warm hand in his. She squeezed back and he saw the tears forming in her eyes.

“Ross,” she whispered. “Oh Ross.”

“Hey hey,” he smiled but felt his eyes were growing wet too. Demelza was usually so strong, so stubborn and to see her tonight so vulnerable, all her defences down? It pained him and touched him at the same time. He also wished he could bring her home. Well this flat was her home now but she’d rest easier back to Nampara. 

“I’m here,” he kissed her temple and stroked her hair. “But don't talk now. We’ll catch up later.”

“You can stay with me?” she asked wide eyed.

“Of course--for a few days or until you’re better. Close your eyes.”

She did as she was told and after several deep breaths she fell asleep again. He switched off the light and went to work.

He had it in his mind to make tea and after searching all her cabinets he finally found a passable pot of only partially crystallised honey. Then he thought better of it and decided he should wait until she awakened to switch on the kettle. Instead he did the washing up that had been left in the sink and sourly hoped the dishes he was cleaning had been hers and not her flatmate’s.

Ross looked at his watch. She’d probably sleep for some time--maybe even the whole night. Sure tucking her into bed had brought her a moment’s comfort but no real relief. He’d have to do better if he was to be useful. 

But first, he’d need the keys to her flat. He hoped he could find them without rummaging through her handbag.

---

“Ross?”

As soon as Ross had turned the key in the lock he heard Demelza’s hoarse whisper call out to him. He moved quickly inside the flat to find her bundled up on the sofa, sitting in the dark.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” he asked, trying to both assess her state and contain his panic. “Are you okay?”

“Don't be cross--I woke up and found you gone and then I felt lonely so I thought I’d watch some telly.”

“Looks like a good programme." He nodded towards the blank screen.

“Well there was nothin’ good on,” she said. “Where did you go, Ross? I was worried.”

“Sorry, my love.” He perched carefully next to her and gave her a reassuring kiss. Perhaps she felt less feverish than before? It was hard to tell so he kissed her again. 

“I went in search of reinforcements,” he explained and showed her the bag from Boots. “I wasn't sure if lozenges or syrup was better for your cough so I bought both. Plus some tissue--have you been sneezing?”

“No, not even a runny nose,” she said proudly.

“Well that could change.”

“Would that please you? she smiled.

“Yes, immensely. And I got this,” he said, holding up the thermometer. “I’m afraid it’s the old-fashioned kind that goes in your…”

“Please say mouth,” she said. “I guess if I were a real grown up I’d have all that in my own medicine cabinet,” she sighed.

“But you do at least have your own medicine cabinet so that’s a start. Besides, Demelza, the only reason I’ve a thermometer at Nampara is because my father or Prudie or some other adult bought it years ago--certainly not me. And I think you’ve demonstrated your maturity in other ways.”

“Thank you Ross,“ she said. “Thank you for everythin’...Oh! Are you hungry? I forgot to even ask! I can make you some...”

“No, I’m fine. I stopped along the way,” he lied. “But what about you?”

“You know what they say ‘starve a fever, feed a cold’?”

“No, I’ve never heard that. But if you are worried about whether you are adult enough, quoting old wives is a good place to start.”

“It's probably not even true. But as far as conventional remedies go, I suppose it’s better than blood lettin’...”

“Or leeches,” he added, glad that she was feeling up to making jokes. 

“Or laudanum. Is there any of that in your old medicine chest at Nampara?”

“Yes, but it’s only to be used for dropsy.”

“You just made that word up.” 

“No, it's an old medical term like grippe or ague.”

“Well I do feel like I have a brain fever,” she said.

“I hope not, Miss Dostoevsky. But it might be quinsy,” he laughed. “Here put this under your tongue.”

“Whazzle muh tah?” she muttered. 

“That’s a good language, but I’ll learn it some other time.”

“I was only remindin’ you that you’d promised you’d make tea,” she said, taking the thermometer out of her mouth to speak.

“And I will in due course. Have you finished chattering for a moment?”

“Yes. I have now.”

“Restrain any further thoughts that come to your mind. We’ll have to start this all over again,” he said, looking at his watch to record the time the thermometer went back in.

She opened her mouth again then laughed as he playfully put his fingers to her lips.

“Uh uh uh,” he chided. 

This time she opened her mouth and closed her teeth on one of his fingers, but not hard.

“I see the fever has made you vicious. Perhaps you have the horrors,” he said,  having recovered his finger. “Anyway, now that you mention it, if your aim is to become one of those old wives,  I do see a resemblance.”

“Would you like to put your finger in again?” she asked quickly, then closed her mouth again around the thermometer.

He chuckled and put his hand on her knee. 

“I’ll go make that tea but then you’re off to bed. No excuses.”

----

Her fever was no longer raging but still very present--38 degrees--and now that he had numerical data on his side, it was harder for her to argue. She drank her tea, chose the cough syrup over the lozenges which had the added advantage of providing her with a sleep aid, then she crawled back into her bed.

“Where will you sleep?” she asked just as he was about to switch off the light again. 

“I’ll take the sofa,” he said casually.

“Oh yes, I do see that you'd probably want to stay clear of me and my contagion. Plus I probably stink…”

“You don’t. Somehow you manage to look--and smell--lovely as ever, even when unwell. No, I just thought you’d sleep easier if you were alone and not worrying about keeping me awake,” he explained.

“Maybe, or maybe I’d sleep easier if I knew you were next to me?” she said then let out a violent cough that shook the whole bed. Her crestfallen face told him she now saw his point. “You can take Caroline’s bed. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“No, the sofa is closer to you,” he replied. 

“You win,” she sighed. “There’s an extra pillow and blanket in the cupboard in the hallway.” 

“I’ll check on you in an hour,” he reassured her. “Good night, my love.”

“I love you, Ross,” she murmured, then turned into her own pillow.

----

Ross didn’t want to admit--to Demelza or to himself--the real reason he turned down sleeping in Caroline’s bed. The thought of being so intimately close to Caroline’s private things had somehow felt a bit intimidating to him. But now as he stretched out of the sofa--or tried to--he saw he might have made a mistake. This one was wider than his sofa at home and was very soft. In fact he sank rather deeply into the cushions. But it was just too damn short for his height. He pulled in his knees imagining he’d be rather stiff in the morning. But it wasn’t the less-than-ideal sleeping position that kept him up. Ross was listening as closely as he could to every sound--every grunt and every breath--that drifted out of Demelza’s open bedroom door. 

He must have eventually fallen asleep and woke with a start when the living room light switched on suddenly.

.“Ross? Mate? What brings you here?” Hugh laughed as he put dropped his keys on the table by the wall.

#poldark #poldark fanfic #lucretiassister #demelza carne #poldark modern au #likesomeone sequels #ask nervousladytraveler

[the-winds-of-destiny-xxx]

.

#going to london on friday! #gonna stay at my aunty's house #and visit sarem #will probs stay for like 3 days #so happy to get away from bristol for a bit things are getting so bad

[glowcrizzle]

Today is the 1 year AO3 anniversary of Slow Show by @mia-ugly. I am beyond grateful that this experience (and it is an experience) has existed in my life for a year and felt it needed commemorating. 🎂  

I’m not a creator but I made this playlist for me, so I could take the fic with me, have it with my eyes closed, while driving -- you get it. Today seems like an appropriate day to share it. 

It’s a. It’s a lot. Excessive you might even say. Tumblr will only give you the first 100 songs in this, so, Spotify will fulfill you (or overwhelm you). If you hit my username on the playlist, there are separate playlists for each chapter. 

This is also on Apple Music, if that’s your jam, just hit me up and I’ll send you the link. 

🎉 Happy Slow Show Day!! 🎉 

13 pages of track-lists and excerpts below the cut. Godspeed! 💙

Key:

Songs from Mia’s soundtrack

Songs from the Fic

.

--Title--

Slow Show – The National 

_

--Prequel--

Loverman – Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds 

Devils – Say Hi 

_

--Chapter 1--

Here I Go Again – Whitesnake 

_

bad guy – Billie Eilish 

-trash a set and shag your husband

_

Something About You (ODESZA Remix) – Hayden James 

-what it would take for Avery Fell to let his guard down

_

A Little Wicked – Valerie Broussard 

-The handkerchief in his hand is now stained purple

_

You Light Me Up In the Dark – The Hounds Below

-His hair catches the light like a halo, making him look more of an angel than ever.

_

Lazarus – David Bowie 

-This could be a problem

_

--Chapter 2--

Unsteady – X Ambassadors

-much easier than talking about the way his heartbeat is still racing

_

Heart of a Dog – The Kills

-Call me darling again.

_

The Twilight Hour - Still Corners

-Looked across the set and thought, Ah fuck me. I’m in love with him.

_

God’s Mistake – Tears for Fears 

-Avery: He’s closed his eyes again, mouth going flat and still.

_

Lounge Act – Nirvana

-Tell her all the terrible things I want to do to her husband

_

Transatlanticism – Death Cab for Cutie

-There’s a strange urgency tonight, though, and Crowley can guess why.

_

Do I Wanna Know? – Arctic Monkeys

-What could it hurt?

_

Clueless – The Marias 

-“Better - yeah. ‘S late.”

_

Motel – Meg Myers

-The hotel room is another disaster

_

--Chapter 3--

Alone in a Room – Asking Alexandria 

-“I’m having a moment here!”

_

Since You’ve Been Around – Rosie Thomas 

-makes Crowley feel like he can breathe again

_

Home Again – The Disco Biscuits 

-It’s starting to feel like home again

_

Every Other Freckle – alt-J

-Perfect. Ridiculous and impossible and perfect.

_

Something For the Longing – The Orchids 

_

As Far As I Can See – Phantogram 

-it’s been a really, really long time

_

Sinister Kid – The Black Keys 

-“Mothering buggering shit-”

_

All These Things That I’ve Done – The Killers

-Crowley fists one of his hands against his forehead, shuts his eyes tightly.

_

--Chapter 4--

I Like Me Better – Lauv

-I liked the outline of your face under the stagelights

_

I Do This for You (ft. Marlene) – Giorgio Moroder

-“Let me see what I can do. About your precious Hamlet.”

_

The Longing – Imelda May 

-Avery POV: “Look at him like - like - you can’t let him see the way you look at him.”

_

Just a Man – Los Lobos

-Avery POV: like he’s being led into battle and not onto a set to do the job he loves

_

World In My Eyes – Depeche Mode 

-wants to make that bastard purr

_

Tired (ft. Gavin James) – Alan Walker

-Let me be a magpie for you

_

Blow My Mind – The Benjamin Gate 

-Avery: “I know you now.”

_

Breathe You in My Dreams – Trixie Whitley

-Crowley’s seen that expression on Avery’s face in his dreams

_

Love Me Like That (ft. Carly Rae Jepsen) – The Knocks

-What have I done to - oh. Oh. Right.

_

Like Real People Do - Hozier

-“Sure, angel, what- whatever.”

_

Clearly – Grace VanderWaal 

-Crowley waits for the rest of the night.

_

Gwendel – PeelsDeen 

-Az sits in the back seat, away from Crowley. Alone.

_

Now I’m In It – HAIM

-Avery POV: It’s a look like an open grave, a look like desire tempered with grief…

_

Flesh for Fantasy – Billy Idol

-Crowley isn’t lonely for the rest of the night

_

--Chapter 5 (Avery POV)--

Smalltown Boy – Rosborough 

-1978, Hartlepool

_

Bright Horses – Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

-1986, Newcastle Upon Tyne

_

The Runner – Foals

-1991, Bristol

_

Shock To Your System – Tegan and Sara

-Tracy: “Why d’you let them?”

_

Cracking Codes – Andrew Bird

-“Forever, of course. I’ll never -”

_

Colour me In – Damien Rice

-Their fingers - just touch. Slightly.

_

I’m Not in Love – 10cc

-Less to regret by not ever speaking of it.

_

--Chapter 6--

Electric Current – Lower Dens 

-“I’ll let you know when you find it.”

_

Guess I Miss(ed) You – The Daylights

-Keep talking, keep him here a little while longer.

_

Reflecting Light – Sam Phillips 

-“don’t meet his eyes like that, it looks like it’s a lead-in to a kiss”

_

King of Pain – The Police

-a good reminder of the kind of life he’s got to live

_

I Wanna Get Better – The Bleachers

-and Avery’s gaze is so gentle it hurts a bit

_

Feather – X Ambassadors 

-Avery: “Someone has to”

_

Darker Side - Jonny Lang

-Avery: “Oh - good Lord.”

_

Firestone (Acoustic) – Conrad Sewell 

-“Will you show me?”

_

Velvet Gloves and Spit - Timber Timbre 

-“Anthony - ”

_

Wrong – Depeche Mode

-Avery: “I have to go.”

_

F**k it I love you – Lana Del Rey 

-“Not your fault, angel”

_

--Chapter 7--

Somebody to Love – Queen 

_

Heavenly – Cigarettes After Sex 

-“I fucking still.”

_

Will Do - TV on the Radio

-“You too. I’ll see you there.”

_

Monster – Colours

-No wonder Avery ran off like a thief after a heist

_

Swallow My Pride – Ramones 

-“I feel fucking ill about it.”

_

I Was Wrong - The Oh Hellos

-Avery: “I’m the one who has to apologize, not you.”

_

The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret – Queens of the Stone Age

-Avery: “Please don’t tell anyone”

_

Wait for Me – Kings of Leon

-Avery: “Right now, I’m just - a bit in pieces.”

_

Don’t Stay – X Ambassadors 

-“You can - stay or leave or - whatever you like.”

_

The Moth - Aimee Mann

-Avery’s eyes meet his, and then it’s like a car accident

_

Red Door – Julien Baker 

-“I can - I can wait longer.”

_

Can’t Pretend - Tom Odell

-“I wasn’t apologizing for that. This morning. I won’t.”

_

Come Down to Me – Saving Jane

-Avery: “You were wonderful”

_

Secret Smile – Semisonic

-And if sometimes he catches Az watching him between takes

_

I Want More - KALEO

-Az laces both of their hands together, stares at them.

_

I’m Gonna Do My Thing – Royal Deluxe 

-“So don’t tell me what will hurt me. I know what hurts.”

_

--Chapter 8--

Perfect Day – Lou Reed 

_

Remember to Breathe – Sturgil Simpson

-“You can’t sit in the car all night you absolute nightmare”

_

Wild Love (Acoustic) – James Bay

-The two of them stare at each other and then both look away awkwardly.

_

Seasons – Future Islands

-finally, fucking finally, he’s exactly where he wants to be

_

Closer – Tegan and Sara

-Avery: “if you like”

_

I Want All of You – The Verve Pipe 

-“If you think I can survive this without looking at you -”

_

Use Me – Miguel

-whatever he sees in Crowley’s face makes him come to some sort of decision

_

So Much Love – Depeche Mode

-Love, he said love

_

Don’t Be Scared, I Love You – Bill Ryder-Jones

-I know you, Crowley wants to say, but doesn’t.

_

Become My Dream – Silya & The Sailors 

-“Even if - anything, angel.”

_

I Belong In Your Arms – Chairlift

-For nearly two weeks it goes like this.

_

Faster - Matt Nathanson

-“You’re going to fucking kill me, angel -”

_

Come Together (feat. Sivu) – LAUREL

-In case you think they don’t wake up together

_

The High – Kelela

-Az has pulled a stool over to the edge of the tub

_

Just in Time – Valerie June

-Then Az’s hand is on his shoulder, turning him around.

_

I Can’t Take It – Tegan and Sara

-Avery: “Don’t rush, just - like this.”

_

Like This – Jake Scott

-Avery murmurs and it takes Crowley back to their first kiss

_

Terrible Love – The National

-Flinches away from him.

_

Help You Out - Emarosa

-And he nods.

_

--Chapter 9--

I Remember You – Ramones

-The first person Crowley loved was a liar.

_

Brighter Skies - Race Banyon

-As if they were cut with a jigsaw, as if they were meant to fit.

_

Not Tonight – Tegan and Sara

-When they reach the edge of the city, his hand slides out of Crowley’s.

_

As Sure as I Am – Crowded House

-So Crowley kisses him.

_

A Promise – Miriam Makeba

-And for awhile, he believed her.

_

Mistaken for Strangers – The National

-They’re only two small words, but they still make Crowley’s teeth ache.

_

Hey, That’s No Way To Say Goodbye – Leonard Cohen

-“Good-“ Swallow, speak, leave.

_

The Fear – Pulp

-Crowley should have been smarter this time. He really should have been.

_

Take Me – Leela James 

-“I’d like you to close your blinds.”

_

Whenever You Want It – Clare Maguire 

-“What do we do now?”

_

At My Weakest – James Arthur 

-“It will be.”

_

Komm zurück - Fotos

-For years and years and years, nothing did.

_

Come on Get Higher – Matt Nathanson

-their feet sliding in the tub

_

Lay Down – Sarah Proctor

-I want to wake up with you.

_

Sort Of - Ingrid Michaelson

-Why is my heart breaking?

_

Fairytale of New York – The Pogues 

-Just pump that shit straight into his veins.

_

What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve? – Ella Fitzgerald

-Avery: “What do you think?”

_

We’re Gonna Have A Real Good Time Together – The Velvet Underground

-“You want to grab dinner somewhere?” 

_

Hiding – IAN SWEET

-Crowley stops walking. Looks at Az in the darkness.

_

Romance Dawn – Radkey

-A slice of light cuts through the darkness.

_

Crown of Love – Arcade Fire

-Crowley feels like the world has never been darker, and his heart will never stop beating

_

Devil’s Backbone – The Civil Wars

-He thought he was ready for this conversation, but at the sight of Az’s face, his throat has gotten too tight to speak.

_

Sinners – Lauren Aquilina 

-“If this all goes down in flames, if it all falls apart - we can go off together.”

_

Please Forgive Me (Song of the Crow) – William Fitzsimmons 

-Avery: “It’s over. I’m - I’m so sorry.”

_

Start a War – The National

-He twitches and trips and yet somehow manages to walk away without falling over.

_

Broken – Daley

-And this soft heartache was somehow the sharpest of them all.

_

--Chapter 10 (Avery POV)--

Daily Battles - Thom Yorke & Flea

-He tries to remember these things - but the background is still a chorus of beeping machines. There’s nowhere he can be but here. 

_

Everybody Wants You - Red Hearse

-Go out and surround himself with people much more interesting and available than Avery. Better people, certainly.

_

A Thin Line – Blackchords

-But still - roads not taken, and other fun middle-aged spirals.

_

My Own Soul’s Warning - The Killers

-When was the last time someone asked Avery that? When was the last time he asked himself?

_

Who Am I - NEEDTOBREATHE

-I miss you.  There. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. 

_

Wait for Me - Jack Curley 

-What he wants to say is ‘don’t find someone else. Not yet. You and your black leather and your cut-glass profile: you’re gorgeous and God knows other people want you.’ 

_

Coming & Going – Amaal 

-“Two ships passing in the night,” he says quietly.  Then he takes a swallow of wine, lets it roll down his throat. “If you were here -” 

_

Iron - Woodkid

-Crowley leaves him there, pressed against the wet brick wall.  Crowley leaves him there.  Crowley steps between Avery and a camera, and then leaves him.

_

The Greatest Bastard - Damien Rice

-He can’t be the person that kicks Crowley into the ashes again. He can’t hurt him like this, and Avery’s going to hurt him - he already has. 

_

No Right to Love You – Rhys Lewis

-He deserves someone like - like Daniel. Deserves to be loved in the daylight.

_

If It’s Hurting You - Robbie Williams

-Time is a tricky business when you’re dying slowly; it skips like a flat stone on a quiet lake.

_

Happy For You – Gayle 

-But surely - surely he’s allowed just this much. Just one message, just so Crowley knows that - that he’s happy for him. That Avery is so happy.

_

I See You (ICU) - Phoebe Bridgers

-When Avery sees Crowley on the red carpet, it feels like the sudden remembrance of a lovely dream.

_

Once In My Life - The Decemberists

-Crowley: “I know there’ve been some - hard times. That’s - that is what it is. But for me - it’s been a privilege. A dream. So.” He nods and nods and nods again. “Thank you.”

_

Coming Down - Dum Dum Girls

-Tracy: “But I wasn’t. I was hurting you. This whole time, Az.”  She shakes her head, wiping frantically at tears that won’t stop falling. “He loves you.”

_

I Don’t Know Anything – Little Voice Cast

-He’s afraid of finding out that all this time - he was doing the wrong thing anyway. He’s afraid that Anthony Crowley will never talk to him again.

_

Sweet Sour - Band of Skulls

-"And you're fired"

_

Heart Attack - Devarrow

-The sun is still rising when Avery gets out of the car, closes the door behind him. Though some of the roads have changed, his feet still know the way down to the docks of his youth. He was never a sailor, but the shoreline is familiar as a childhood sweetheart, as a long lost love. 

_

Landslide - Robyn Sherwell

-He’s alone, and he’s nearly fifty years old. He could get on a ship, he could throw himself into the sea. There’s no one holding him back anymore. 

_

All I Can - Sharon van Etten

-And he knows. He knows.

_

--Chapter 11-- 

Salvation - The Strumbellas

- there’s a moment where he swears he sees a young idiot in black standing in the crowd. Red hair gelled up into spikes, black t-shirt full of holes and safety pins. A young man who has no idea how much he’s about to lose.

_

Soldier - Fleurie

-And he’s still fucking here.

_

Easier – Mansionair

-Then he gets the fuck above ground and he calls Beez (oh great, they’re his emotional-support-asshole now. That’s healthy).

_

Deep End – Holly Humberstone  

-“I brought you cheese,” Beez says, and Crowley starts crying.

_

Falling Short – Lapsley

-For the next few days, he lets his stupid body do what it needs to do to keep himself upright.

_

Chariot (Stripped Version) - Gavin DeGraw

-Shit, this was a bad bad idea. 

_

Quiet Light - The National

-There’s a text from Az later that night, and his name on Crowley’s phone makes him feel like jumping off a cliff.

_

All That We Had is Lost - Postiljonen

-He’s not allowed to be in love with that man anymore. Wasn’t ever, really.

_

Heal - Tom Odell

-It makes a rather hysterical laugh well out of his throat. Anthony fucking Crowley. You are still alive. 

_

Let Me Go - HAIM 

-Crowley tries to ignore the soft, injured expression on the other man’s face as he turns away.

_

A Beginning Song - The Decemberists

-“What’s more frightening than having a choice?”

_

The Spark - William Prince

-And he likes to think he would have just burned the world to ashes with the power of his love, would have said fuck everyone, I choose you – but who knows. 

_

Sharp Scratch - The Slow Show

-So stupid, I know, and I’m - sorry, I still love you and I’m tryin’ to stop and I will I just - needed to tell you that. I’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Just miss you.

_

Beautiful & Brutal – Plested

-Crowley moves without thinking. Falls like a stagelight, glass everywhere. He walks forward and is kissing Az before the door has even been pulled shut.

_

Bad Chemistry - Fake Shark

-“I’ve been - thinking about this -” Az says between darts of his tongue against Crowley’s overheated skin.

_

All We Do – Oh Wonder

-“But I - I love you. And I can’t -  hide. It hurts too much.”

_

Broken Strings - James Morrison (ft Nelly Furtado)

-“I wouldn’t survive it. That way it was. I wouldn’t.”

_

Stole the Show – Parson James

-But even on their distant shores, Crowley and Az don’t stop looking at each other. It feels like an ending. Maybe it is one. Not a happy ending, but not a bad one either.

_

Level Up - Vienna Teng

-excerpt from Anthony Crowley: Out of the shadows, under the spotlight

_

The Wire (Alternate Version) – Patrick Droney 

-Avery: “I’m rather in - in love with you.”

_

Sweet Thing - Van Morrison

-“You can stay at my place. If you like.”

_

Falling in Love - Cigarettes After Sex

-“I love you. I’ve missed you, and I love you, and I want you -”

_

Stay - Cat Power

-He watches the slow flicker of awareness in Avery’s blue eyes. The curve of his mouth into a shade of smile that Crowley’s never seen before.

_

Freedom - George Michael

-“To the world.”

_

--Chapter 12--

Banks - NEEDTOBREATHE

-What he wasn’t used to was bringing someone else down with him, and jail would be a bloody blessing compared to seeing Az grey-faced and staring out windows, or that one time Crowley’s pretty sure the man was crying in the bathroom, trying to swallow down the sound so that Crowley didn’t notice (he clenches his hands into fists just thinking about it).

_

Black Mambo - Glass Animals

-“It’ll have to be.” Crowley drops to his knees. “There’s a lot of ground to cover.” 

_

Florets - Grace VanderWaal

-Crowley can let his fingers curl against Az’s palm, can watch him open as a flame, not caring who notices.

_

Sight of the Sun - fun.

-That this longing won’t destroy him, and won’t destroy Az either. It’s not a shovel for burying Crowley alive - it’s a spade for planting things.

_

Pale Blue Eyes - The Velvet Underground

-Az drops his hand onto Crowley’s knee (“What is this song? I rather like it.”).

_

Only Everything (Acoustic) – Quinn Lewis

-“It’s nice to have someone make it for you, right? Sometimes,” Crowley says softly, too much love in his throat and in his hands. It’s hard to breathe around it, especially when Avery is looking at him.

_

The Book of Love - The Magnetic Fields

-“You bought a cottage for us.” Crowley is an animal being taught to speak through scraps of meat and electric shocks. “This cottage.”

_

Say You’ll Be Mine – Christopher Cross

-Avery: “But if you wanted -” Fuck, there are tears in Avery’s eyes. “If you want. I’d like to call you my husband. I’d like to say ‘let me ask my husband,’ or ‘I brought my husband with me’ or ‘my husband won a BAFTA’.”

_

Anthem - Leonard Cohen

-Their broken edges match. And somehow, the light still shines through.

_

Precious Love – James Morrison

-When the light catches them both, they shine. And so do you. So do we.

_

Good Man (acoustic) - Josh Ritter

_

_

If you made it this far...wow, hi hello. So, this is ours and my musical exposure is limited, if you’ve got a better song for an excerpt, feel free to shoot it over, more than happy for this to be a living changeable thing. 🤡 

#slow show #slow show playlist #tumblr html code after read more is some bullshit #it's fic for your ears

[thatwirddemonhunter]

Bager in the Light, by Lucifer Buitrago part 1

Tage Hopp was not a particularly religious man, but that morning he thought "maybe there is a god, and I made him mad." He had a badger face! He didn't feel that strange, but he looked strange. He always had a beard and his face was almost always covered in dirt and grime, his long brown hair was still there although a little thicker, the fangs he gained didn't sit very well in his mouth and his hands had long nails or claws, what's the difference? In short, he felt hairier than normal; and hungry. "I should get some food before I fully become a badger," he said.

The weather outside was cold and dark, the sea was roaring loudly and dangerously. The day was like any other at the lighthouse and the tiny island it resided on.It was a small island situated off the coast of Wick, though the men that Tage worked with did not hail from the small fishing town.

The men that he worked with were very loud and annoying. He came to the island to get away from folks like them and instead is put with them, on a secluded hellscape. There were four: Erengisle Laxman,Oren Bloom,Xavier and Kohen Gill. The Gill brothers were the rowdiest in Tage's mind since he shared a room with them. Laxman was the second loudest, though a happy and joys kind of loud, and he was the most knowledgeable on account of his age; though he is more aware of other people then the other three, and always soft spoken when he talked to Tage. Bloom was a large and booming man, and his voice reflected that, always barking orders, speaking with his mouth full of food and yelling when something was not done his way, normally Laxman would intervin and calm him down. The only one Tage liked to be around was Olga, an old russin hound, no one knows where she came from, not even Laxman, but she is vital to running the lighthouse. Why you may ask, and I shall repeat this once more, no one knows. The only reason Tage really stays is if he goes home it will be worse. At least you can reason with a person that is not related to you, well for the most part.

As Tage was thinking this, Bloom came into the room, booming voice and everything. Lucky for him did not see Tage in his badger from due to the curtain dividing the room.

"Hopp, get up! Now!", it was a miracle the twins didn't wake up.

"And wake those two.I got a bone to pick with them" he said

"I'll get to it sir" Tage responded.

"AND-"

"I know what to do sir"

"Watch your mouth young man!"

BOOM, went to the boor as Bloom left the room, as he did every morning.

After sitting still for a little bit, he got up and checked if the other two were awake and not to his surprise they were fast asleep.The Gill brothers came from a large family like Tage, so they could sleep through anything. Sadly,Tage did not learn this trick;instead he had to learn to sleep anywhere quiet and secluded, like the top of the lighthouse. So instead of following Bloom’s orders, Tage left the twins alone and got ready for the day.

Now normally he gets dressed quickly, mostly due to the cold, but with the new fur that had grown overnight it felt like he did not need to dress but did either way. As soon as he finished clothing himself he left the room to do his morning chores. Hopefully with no one seeing him. Laxman was still asleep, and waking him was the first thing he needed to do.

Laxman was a deep sleeper and Tage knew he had to go in and physically move him.That made him have to think through his next move, as no one had seen him yet and he was not too sure that their reaction would be as calm as his.

The plan he concocted involved Olga and some very sneaky hiding since Bloom was already awake. As Tag went out, he took off his shoes to make his step much quieter.Once outside, he went looking for Olga, and it did not take him long. Tag had thought that she would growl and snarl at his new looks, but he had worried for nothing, she knew him immediately. Tag loved Olga’s company, he had promised that once he got a better job that he would take Olga with him but always got stopped by the old geezers, Laxman and Bloom.Mostly Laxman. Always Laxman, Bloom just stood there looking menacing.

As he got Olga through the house and toLaxmans door he got her level."Now listen Olga, I need you to do something for me" he said at the derpy borzoi."You're going into Laxman's room, and jump on him, got it" he got no response but knew by the look in her eyes she understood the plan.Tage let Olga in the room through a sliver of the door opening then closed and waited. Not for long though, as he heard a very loud but happy "OLGA?!".

After that, he went to check the chores list and in big booming letters after his name "WAKE XAVIER AND KOHEN" followed by a small polite "please". Now there's no point in avoiding it, Bloom was probably mad now and for the next couple of days too. Seeing this made Tage realize that Bloom might of unitentiely woke them and he had to go back either way to get his tools for the fog horn.Now this time there was no Olga to send in. He went back to his room to see if the Twins were awake and as he neared the door he heard them.

"Where do you think that little imp went, any who?" said Xavier, with his gruff voice.

"I don't know, but when I see him, he going to get an earful, he is!" Kohen said, clearly angry.

The Twins were from Leeds and never spoke proper English, Bloom didn’t either but that was because he spoke Yiddish and Laxman claims he hails from Bristol but his Scottish accent betrays him.The Twins were from Leeds and never spoke a proper English, Bloom didn't either but that was because he spoke Yiddish and Laxman claims he hails from Bristol but his Scottish accent betrayed him. Tage was the odd one out with his "proper London '' as Xavier called his accent; and because of it the brothers push him around, making him out to be a weak noble or something and Bloom belittles him with every word.

Hearing them made Tage want to throw them off the light, straight into the water, maybe the sirens will get them, after this morning anything is possible. But why was he thinking that he's got a job to do, just ignore them. Tage went in without thinking, got his coat and tools and left. He just marched out, ignoring everything and went to fix the horn.

After an hour or so he heard some barking and turned to see Olga with Erengisle Laxman, staring at him with a mix of shock, confusion and a little bit of fear. Olga was just happy to see him, and she came to him looking for treats as always. Seeing her come up to Tage made Laxman snap out of his shock.

“H-hey Tage, can we talk to you?” the terrified voice of Laxman followed. No one had seen him all morning in his new badger for, with the exception of Olga, but she made no fuss about his looks. Laxman was being cautious around him but Tage assumed it was because of the badger face. He sat next to Tage and started to speak again.

"So... it is Tage under there... still, right?" he asked

"Yeah. Just harrier." an awkward silence followed.

"This isn’t the first time appears with an..." he jesters to Tages head "an creater of sorts."

"I'm having a hard time believing that Eren."

"No really, where do you think Olga came from?"

"WHAT?" Tage yelled.

“No no no no no, I've realized that was a bad joke. Sit back down lad.” he said to Tage making the motion to sit back. Tage had a feeling that this was his way of coping with the fact his co-worker had the features of a badger. Olga just rested her head on Tages lap.

#if this sounds familiar #Congratulations #you have read the horrific story that is Metamorphosis #and if not #go read it you uncultured swine

[thomokmeow]

I saw somebody did this and I really want to make a list of facts for my MC too. The thing is I couldn’t put my fingers on who started this so if you happen to know them pls notify me

Okay let’s get to the tea

BASIC INFO

Quote by character: “Bad bitches don’t do math, we count with our fingers and if we can’t, we use a calculator.”

Full name: Kouneli Ulrikke

Alias: Kokonut, Ko, Ravenclaw’s snow princess, The curse breaker, Jacob’s sibling, Nozomi

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Pansexual

Alignment: Chaotic loud

Species: Human

Blood status: Muggle-born

Date of birth: November 30th, 1972

Ethnicity: Norwegian

Nationality: British

Languages: English, Japanese, Norwegian (fluent), Russian (not that fluent)

Greatest flaw: Falls in love too easily

Greatest strength: Determination and confidence

Place of residency: Bristol, England

Future career: Unknown

PERSONALITY

Positive traits: “a happy virus”, optimistic, confident, quick-witted, adventurous, friendly towards everyone she meets, honest, intellectual, carefree

Negative traits: chaotic, messy, bone idle, a bit childish, procrastinate too much, falls head over heel for someone in such a short amount of time, VERY moody and unpredictable, an attention seeker, untrustworthy

Likes: Dancing, vocal practices, dried seaweed, red velvet desserts, stargazing, spending time with her friends (and love interests), sleeping, creatures, breaking rules, running away from responsibilities

Dislikes: being alone, homework, Math, Herbology, Flying, COCONUTS, not getting attention and affection, responsibilities

APPEARANCE

Hair color: white

Eye color: cerulean blue

Skin tone: almost snow white/kinda fair (?)

Height: 163cm

Weight: 46kg

Conditions: Leucism (Waardenburg syndrome)

Physique: slim figure (on the skinny side though), has an hour-glassed body type

Style choice: She doesn’t have a stable choice of clothing but the more comfortable the better (except for when she has to attend special events then she’d go all out on the elegant fancy style)

Accessories: Strawberry earrings (and additional necklaces depending on her mood)

MAGIC

Wand

First: Redwood with a dragon heartstring core, 12 1/4, unyielding flexibility

Second: Cherry wood with a thestral tail hair core, 14 1/2, unyielding flexibility

Boggart: Being left alone

Riddikulus form: turning into a grumpy bald cat

Patronus: Thestral

Patronus memory: First meeting with Talbott when they were 9

Animagus: Falcon

Misc. Magical abilities: wandless jinxing

Favorite spells: Expecto patronum, Accio, Coloravia, Incendio, Bombarda

HOGWARTS LIFE

Hogwarts house: Ravenclaw

Affiliations/organizations: Ulrikke family (adoptive), Circle of Khanna,

Apprenticeships: Cursebreaker apprentice under Patricia Rakepick (1987)

Professions: Unknown

Best subjects: Transfiguration, Astronomy, Care of magical creatures

Worst subjects: Herbology, Flying

Favorite teachers: Flitwick, McGonagall, Snape

Least favorite teachers: Binns

Extracurricular: Sphinx club, Dragon club, Hippogriff club

Class proficiencies

Charms: 9.5/10

Potions: 9/10

Flying: 3/10

Transfiguration: 10/10

Herbology: 5/10

Care of magical creatures: 10/10

Defense against the dark arts: 9/10

History of magic: 8/10

Divination: 9/10

Astronomy: 10/10

Arithmancy: 8/10

Study of ancient runes: 7.5/10

STATS

Power (magic): 10/10

Power (physical strength): 6.5/10

Intelligence: 10/10

Skill: 9/10

Teamwork: 8/10

Speed: 8/10

Defense: 5.5/10

RELATIONSHIPS

Family

Unknown biological parents

Vermillion Ulrikke (adoptive mother)

Jacob Ulrikke (adoptive brother)

Unknown relatives

Close friends

Rowan Khanna: Best friend for life. Rowan was the first friend she met in Hogwarts, was also her dorm mate, and she was the emotionally supportive friend that would back Kouneli up wheneve necessary. Regardless of the traumatic event that had happened to Rowan (and the fact that their personalities were total polar opposite), they will stay as the closest friends forever

Ben Cooper: They related much with others since both are Muggle-born (Kouneli was only adopted by a pure blood family after she was 8, therefore she lived as a muggle in her early life). The two would hang out in the Artefact room to chat about Muggle stuff that their friends wouldn’t understand. With Kouneli on his side, Ben felt less alone in the wizarding world that he didn’t get the chance to know early on

Bill Weasley: Bill was the big brother figure for Kouneli: he genuinely cared for her, looked after her as if he was her mom, would always be on her side, protected her and made sure she was doing okay. He would also make sure no one mess with his little friend and would give the best advice ever. Kouneli adores and looks up to Bill a lot. After all it was Bill who gave her the most attention and affection out of all her friends

Andre Egwu: They both enjoyed fashion and Kouneli would willingly be the model for Andre’s new designs. Both of them would spend hours making random dresses and gowns to take photoshoots and print out the photos for fun.

Charlie Weasley: Kouneli and Charlie became close friends very quickly given the fact both of them were crazy about creatures. They would have debate sections about dragons and Charlie would try to convince her that flying was not that bad. It was their adventurous instinct that attracted them in the first place. He is Kouneli’s closest friend just after Rowan and Bill

Jae Kim: Both of them got on too well together since they were both kinda reckless, and both had fun running away from responsibilities and being some of the most laid back homo sapiens to ever existed

Badeea Ali: Artistic duo! Badeea enjoys painting while Kouneli takes interests in pottery making, so they would talk about this subject a lot and were influenced by each other art concepts too. They said artists usually got along well, and these two were not an exception

Love interests

Bill Weasley: Bill was Kouneli’s first ever crush, so he has always had a special place in her heart, even though they didn’t get together and she got over him eventually. Bill is the exact definition of Kouneli’s type; he was perfect in every way and back when she was in year 3 she would daydream about being with him a lot. However, Merula exposed Kouneli’s crush for Bill just right after the Emily incident, so it was quite an awkward period for Kouneli and Bill since Bill only viewed her as his little sister. But things turned out fine and they were still the best of friends

Diego Caplan: They first met when Diego invited Kouneli to the Dragon club for a friendly duel which would result in a whole mess afterwards. They got closer as they were trying clean that mess and save the Dragon club from being disbanded. Not to mention they were both skilled dancer and would have dance practice sections with others in the Dragon clubhouse. Their feelings for each other developed higher than friendship, but still below love. Things eventually went downhill fast and now they just remained as friends and clubmates, and they were cool with it

Merula Snyde: At first, Kouneli asked Merula out for the Celestial Ball as a “joke” and had no intention of fancying her. But oh well did Merula fell hard for her after the ball. Merula had a crush on Kouneli, and since she was so mean to Kouneli in the previous years, Kouneli would use this opportunity to mess with her and get her to behave more kindly towards others. She still fancied Kouneli even in their last year at Hogwarts. Imma call it karma for bullying someone

Talbott Winger: Her current boyfriend. They first met when they were 9, when Kouneli just moved here from Japan and was not that fluent in English; they had a blast talking about the wizarding world despite the language barrier. They met again on the train to Hogwarts on their first year and sat in the same compartment, even though Talbott didn’t remember her as the little girl he met two years ago due to how different she looked. Kouneli remembers falling head over heel for him when they properly met again in their third year during Kouneli’s adventure to become an Animagus, and she has had the crush on him ever since. At first she just brushed it away thinking that she would get bored soon and fall in love in someone else as she saw no chance of her being with Talbott (their personality are literally polar opposite), but oh boy love did blossom in her fourth year and she couldn’t really bare with all the butterflies flying in her stomach whenever she faces him. In the end they finally managed to have enough courage to ask each others out for dates and now they are delusional lovebirds. Everyone was surprised because of how well they got along with each others, no one expected them to be this deeply in love with their partner

Dorm mates

Rowan Khanna

Tulip Karasu

Badeea Ali

Rivals

Merula Snyde: Um do I have to say anything this is too obvious

Diego Caplan: Friendly rival in duelling and dance competitions

Enemies

R

Patricia Rakepick

Azuwaki cult

Death eaters

Pets

Black and orange tarantula: Levi Ackerman

Spotted puffskein: Flobberworm

Niffler from the reserve: Hange

Porlock from the reserve: Porco

Fairy from the reserve: Yelena

Abraxan from the reserve: Jean

Thestral from the reserve: Pieck

Norwegian Ridgeback from the reserve: Ymir

(Yes she named her pets after aot’s casts lmao)

(And she would occasionally sneak creatures from the reserve into her dorm and wreck havocs in there)

OTHER

Family/Background history: Kouneli was born in Kyoto, Japan. Her biological parents were Norwegian Muggle and they didn’t even married back then. They were just a couple travelled to Kyoto for work. What they didn’t expect that their lastest love-making section in their home country would result in the birth if their child in Japan. It was also Kouneli’s first sign of magic: she was born 7 months early, yet still was a (kinda) healthy child with leucism. Knowing that they couldn’t afford to bring the child home let alone raising a human, her parents left her in the care of a local Kyoto childcare center. So Kouneli was born and raised in Japan. She showed too many signs of magic when she was little: being able to move objects without physical touches, hair growing at an alarming speed, hair color changed from originally white to black with white strokes, and even wandless jinxing. However, the Japanese Ministry of Magic never took notice of these signs so she was left living with Muggles. It wouldn’t be that much of a hazard if the childcare center didn’t turn out to be a secret base for a cult named Azuwaki. The cult saw Kouneli capability of magic and immediately viewed her as a descendant of their god and workshipped her like maniacs. Keep in mind that she was only about 4-5 years old at the time and she had to grind through these until she was 8 years old. The cult stressed her out on religious duties and would physically and mentally abused her for the cult’s beliefs. She couldn’t get help and was for sure hopeless in these circumstances. However, her magic was getting stronger and stronger and was so powerful to the point that the Ministry department had to notice and rescued her from the cult. The cult, though, insisted in keeping her as their saviors and did malicious things just to force her to stay. Getting involved in the situation and understanding the disaster Kouneli was going through, the British Ministry of Magic offered help and got her back to England, faraway from the cult. The cult is still after her till this day though. In England, she was adopted by the pure blood family Ulrikke when she was 8 and was only named Kouneli at this point (her previous name in Japan was Nozomi). She finally got to live a normal happy life a child deserves, and later on start her first year at Hogwarts. (Note: the more stressful she felt in a long period, the more black hair she grows. So in Japan her hair was almost completely black with few white strokes, and she managed to get her original white hair back in just 2 years in England)

Miscellaneous:

* She was nicknamed kokonut by Bill as a joke regarding her hatred towards coconuts, and every friends of her start calling her by that alias (or Ko for short)

* She is very talented at learning languages, she can learn a difficult language and be fluent in it just in about a month (we stan a billingual queen)

* She likes to tease and confuse people by speaking multiple languages at once

* Her dorm room was a mess and was also a zoo

* Has special links with Thestrals

* Will find any possible excuses to runaway from her responsibilities

* She is kinda dirty-minded and her jokes usually lean to that kinky path

* Always has back pains and has no idea why. Talbott once forced her stretch her back and her spine cracked 7749 times in that day

* Usually confused by her emotions while fancying someone. She could fancy numerous people at once and falls in love too quickly (we also stan a messy hoe)

* No one could really get mad at her. She is the type that has positive enlightened vibe which makes everyone feel uplifted just by looking at her

* Is known and popular mainly for her visual - she is also nicknamed “The snow princess of Ravenclaw” because of her exotic looks (you know like people with leucism/albinism in snow just hit different)

* Is a simp

* Clumsy from time to time

* Very skilled in wandless jinxing

* Would start a concert in her dorm to practice her dances and vocals

* Her speciality is high-note rap and whistle range

* Is literally allergic to anything math related

* Always smile and looks innocent, but let’s be honest she isn’t all that innocent with all that questionable jokes

* A real definition of breathtaking beauty from face to toes

* Makes cute keychains of her friends out of clay

* Is prone to get ill very easily due to her genetic disorder (especially nosebleeds she gets them a lot)

* Would sleep all day and cry all night

* Is the type to breakdown very quickly and cry very easily

* Handwriting is either hideous or merely acceptable depends on the languages

* Is ambidextrous

* Top of her class in Astronomy

* Is kinda the type who procrastinates a lot and doesn’t study much but manages to have good grade and be in top of their classes

* She would only study about two days before any exams, and then would forget it all in 3 seconds after leaving the classroom

* Hates flying because she despises the sensation of her butt touching the broomstick, it always tickles her in a way she doesn’t want to be tickled

* Hates Herbology just because she hates plants in general

*Hates coconuts mainly because of the Vietnamese fairytale “Sọ dừa” (not-to-be-trusted-direct-translation: Coconut head/ Coconut skull) that traumatized her as a kid

* Likes sharing random thoughts

* Adores stupid-looking things, the sillier the better

* Is broke, due to spending way too much money on stupid things and creatures

#hogwarts+mystery #hogwarts mystery #hphm headcanons #hphm mc #hphm talbott #hphm jacobs sibling #hphm #original character #character info #harry potter

[chickentendersnfries]

The way that I add something to this every single day and will never post it is beyond me.

———

Here:

The sun was set, and the Hogwarts Professor was finished looking around the town of the muggle world. After the wizarding war, so much has happened, creating a new problem for everyone to face in ten years time. Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, walks through Privet Drive. Taking out his Deluminator, all the street lights go out as he whisks them away, just to be consumed into his object. A cat meowed at his feet, and the bearded man looked down at her. "I should've known you'd be here ... Professor McGonagall." The feline transformed back into her human state, being what people call an animagus.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore." The woman walks toward the man, at his side. "Are the rumors true, Albus?" she asks curiously. There had been no greater dishonor to the Wizarding World the night where Lily and James Potter had fallen.

"I'm afraid so, Professor. The good and the bad."

Minerva looks up at Albus. "And the children?" They continue walking down the street, muggle homes surrounding it carefully.

"Hagrid is bringing them."

"Do you think it wise to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?" McGonagall asks. Minerva McGonagall had her doubts, but she trusted whatever Dumbledore would say next.

"Ah, Professor, I would trust Hagrid with my life."

The two heads of Hogwarts Professors turn around to a large light soaring toward them. It was Rebus Hagrid, coming in a motorbike. Shocked by the vehicle the children were being brought in, Minerva put a hand to her chest. "Professor Dumbledore, Sir. Professor McGonagall." The large man took off his goggles and shut off his bike that was once owned by Sirius Black.

"No problems, I trust Hagrid?"

"No sir," the man agreed. "The little tykes fell asleep while we were flying over Bristol. Heh." he transfers the fifteen month old children over to Albus and Minerva. "Try not to wake 'em. There you go." McGonagall cradles the girl, as Albus the boy. They all begin walking toward the fourth house on Privet Drive, and Minerva speaks up, worriedly.

"Albus, do you really think it's safe? Leaving them with these people? I've watched them all day, they're the worst sort of muggles imaginable. They really are-"

"The only family they have." he finishes.

"These children will be famous. There won't be a child in this world who doesn't know their name. And what about the girl's father? She has him." her elderly voice speaks. She was worried about the future, In 10 years and 5 months times will change.

"They're far better off growing up away from all of that, and her father is not ready." Albus holds the baby under the lamp light to see the boy's face clearly. He knew the girl's father was ready to raise her. He just didn't trust him enough, and her father knew that. "Until they're ready to go through that, they live here."

He took the girl away from McGonagall, and set them on their doorstep. Hagrid coughs and sniffles, he is crying. He clears his throat. Dumbledore looks back at Hagrid. "There, there, Hagrid. It's not really goodbye after all." Hagrid nods. The Professors looked back at the babies, who slept calmly wrapped in their blankets. Dumbledore set down a letter on top of the boy. "Good luck, Harry and Anastasia ... Potter." Dumbledore stuttered with the girl's last name. If she knew who her father was now it would only make everything worse, putting two people at risk. A scar was evident on Harry's forehead and Anastasia, her heart.

———

"Up! Get up!" I shoot awake, breathing heavily. Harry does too, sweat dripping down his forehead. I pet his hair and look at him sorrowfully.

"Nightmares again?" He nods at me, laying his head on my shoulder. Most of the time I was able to control myself with nightmares, Harry wasn't fully there, though sometimes they could be a pain and I'd wake up crying to him. Petunia was banging on the cupboard beneath the stairs. We slept in there. It was quite small, but at least we weren't sleeping outside. Petunia unlocks the cupboard and hits it one last time. "Now!"

Harry turns over and flicks on the lamp light, before grasping his circular glasses. I could hear Dudley's heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, but they soon came to a pause halfway. Instead, the meaty boy ran back up and jumped down the staircase. "Wake up, cousins!" I look up to see the sawdust coming from the top of the cupboard. If he jumped anymore, the whole thing would have collapsed. "We're going to the zoo!"

I push open the door and Dudley looks over the railing, only to start running down the stairs once again, laughing excitedly. I start to climb out, but Dudley pushes me back in, making me fall on top of Harry. I frown, as he slams the door with his foot, and he runs away into the kitchen.

I groan, getting back up and helping Harry out. I try to fix my hair up as much as I can, before going into the kitchen. Harry and I both had on sweats, and an oversized t-shirt. I didn't have many clothes.

Petunia told me she never really wanted to choose my style of clothing; she believed that I should choose what I like to wear and that I didn't have to wear prissy dresses every day.

Besides, Vernon would decline everything I liked.

I would sometimes borrow Harry's clothes and the clothes I had were some of my mother's but overall my clothes were baggy and oversized from my size.

Petunia was a very likable person when Vernon wasn't around. She would shower us with the same love she gave Dudley, but we could never say anything.

Harry and I loved Petunia. We never spoke back to her.

Dudley was sort of the same.

When Vernon wasn't in the house we'd do regular things that normal cousins do.

Talk and generally be friendly to one another.

Though Dudley was spoiled, he still cared.

Dudley wanted to please his father though. Which meant when Vernon was around Dudley would go all out with the annoying cousin role.

"Happy Birthday son." Vernon speaks to Dudley, as Petunia rubs her nose to his, giggling like idiots. Vernon quickly frowns, his mustache curling when he sees us. Petunia practically spits the words at us, moving Dudley out of the way. "Why don't you just cook breakfast, and try not to burn anything."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry says.

I roll my eyes at this, and Vernon grabs my arm, puncturing it with his fat hands. "Don't you roll your eyes, girl." he spits, before pushing me toward my brother. I was Harry's sister - twin sister at that; something of the few little facts Petunia gave us about our pasts. At least twins is something we like to call it if it wasn't the correct term. We don't have the same dad, but the same mom, and we were born on the same day. "You alright, Annie?"

I nod at my brother, before getting out the pans from the cabinet. I hate this place. Harry starts to cook bacon, when I get the meat out of the refrigerator. At this point I was making coffee. Vernon being the 'important' fat man he is, started yelling at me again. "Bring me my coffee, girl!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." I squeak out, bring him his coffee. He growls at me, seeing as there's no sugar cubes in it. I don't know why he likes them in his coffee, but he does. I drop the blocks into his drink, which makes drops of the coffee splatter onto the table. I didn't notice it, as I walked away, but as I bent down to get another pan, a knife was being hurled at me. It hangs an inch above my head stuck into the wall. I gasp and hurry to get the pan, before rushing back over to Vernon.

"Clean up this mess!" I get a handkerchief and I clean up the spilled coffee from the table. Petunia and Dudley pass me, heading towards the living room which is stacked full of vibrant presents.

"How many are there?" Dudley inquires, shocked at the gifts.

"Thirty-six. I counted." His father replies, proud of what he's gotten for him.

Dudley grows angry by the words, yelling at Vernon. "Thirty-six?!?! Last year there were thirty-seven!" He cries, stomping his heavy feet like a three year old.

"Yes well, some of them are quite a bit bigger than last year!" Vernon says, desperately trying to please his son.

I roll my eyes to Harry making him nod, irritated. "I don't care how big they are!" I slightly giggle at his choice of words.

"Oh, now, now, now. This is what we're going to do, is that when we go out we're going to buy you two new presents! How's that, Pumpkin?" Petunia calms her spoiled son with the statement, and he eagerly leads everyone outside.

The Dursleys are heading to the car. Harry and I go to get in but are stopped by Uncle Vernon.

"This will be a lovely day at the zoo. I'm really looking forward to it." Petunia smiles.

"I'm warning you two now. Any funny business, any at all, and you won't have any meals for a week. Get in." Vernon snarls.

I didn't say anything, as I didn't want to suffer more than I already did. Harry and I scramble into the car.

FAITH THIS IS AMAZING

IT’S ACTUALLY SO GOOD PLEASE WRITE MORE THIS NEEDS RO BE A FULL FANFIC

#faith🌙

[joannerowlingfans]

JK Rowling’s Track Of My Years choices:

Cloudbusting by Kate Bush

Heaven by Emeli Sande

Big Country by Big Country

Court and Spark by Joni Mitchell

All Along The Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix  

River Song by Dennis Wilson  

Ramble On by Led Zeppelin

Waitress by First Aid Kit

Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers  

Dream On Dreamer by Brand New Heavies

Cloudbusting by Kate Bush – being a student in Paris:

JK: [Cloudbusting] came out in 1985 when I was still a student… because I was studying French I spent a year in Paris… I was teaching students in a lycee, basically a comprehensive on the outskirts of Paris. It was a very particular experience going away, I left a boyfriend back in Britain and we were all quite young and we were all quite broke… we had some wonderful adventures during that time… there’s something very wistful about that track… we were all people who like to travel and there was a sense of being lost, but in quite a nice way I suppose, we were exploring life a lot at that time… I don’t know how I managed to get Paris because a lot of my friends ended up in tiny little towns in the middle of nowhere so we all had very varied experiences. I couldn’t believe that I’d got Paris which was of course my first choice.

Heaven by Emeli Sande – remembering the fear of doing the London Olympics Opening Ceremony

JK: I love this song so much, but I have a particular memory attached to it which was the London Olympics Opening Ceremony. They played this track during the ceremony and that was probably the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done in my life, being part of that Opening Ceremony and, in fact, I told Danny Boyle twice, ‘I can’t do it, Danny, I just can’t, I would be too scared’. I’ve got better, but I find public speaking an ordeal. I’ve got better at it and I’ve made myself get braver about it, but I said to him I can’t do it in front of that large an audience, I can’t do it live, please don’t ask me and he kept asking, kept asking me and finally he just said to me, ‘Look, we’ve got the Queen jumping out of an aeroplane’ and when he told me that I honestly thought, [that] no-ones even going to remember I was there. If that’s happening, that’s sort of takes the pressure off! But I do remember just rehearsing and practising and practising this little piece I had to read and when it was over I cannot tell you the sense of exhilaration that I’d done it, I hadn’t fallen over, I hadn’t messed up the reading so I went up into the stands to sit with some people I knew and then we watched this extraordinary ceremony and they played this Emeli Sande track and I will forever associate it with that night…. I said to my husband on the night, ‘On my deathbed, that will be a moment I remember, going out into that stadium.’ It was the most epic event that I’d ever been involved in and I think all of us who participated would say the same thing, nothing will ever come close.

Big Country by Big Country – first ever gig

JK: Now I had to put Big Country by Big Country on the list because this was my first ever live gig. I went to Dingwalls in Bristol with my teenage boyfriend… and they were amazing live… and I just thought they were wonderful, they really were.

Ken: You’ve lived in many different places, where do you feel home is, where do you feel drawn to?

JK: Well, home now is definitely Scotland. I’ve lived most of my life now in Edinburgh, I’ve lived here longer than I’ve lived anywhere else, but when I was younger I had very itchy feet and I’ve lived in London, Manchester, Paris, Oporto… I’ve moved around a lot. I also, within those cities, kept moving. I just do have very itchy feet. But when I had my daughter, I decided consciously, not that that has to stop because I love travelling and as a family we travel a lot, but I decided that she needed roots so we stayed in Edinburgh, which I now love and really do consider my home and my city… [Travelling] is a useful thing to have done and to have seen life from a lot of different perspectives… and I love exploring.

Court and Spark by Joni Mitchell – on inspiring her latest book

JK: Before I began writing Troubled Blood… I looked up all the albums that came out in 1974 because the whodunnit… concerns a women who vanished in 1974 and I wanted to peg her disappearance to an album that she would have loved and I saw that Court and Spark… had come out then and I thought that’s perfect, perfect for this character. So then I began listening to it and listening to it and listening to it and then I loved it so much I now literally own everything that Joni Mitchell has ever brought out and I can now honestly call myself a mad Joni Mitchell fan. It was an odd way to discover all her other work, but I think she’s just untouchable, and as a lyricist I think there’s no one better. My husband last Christmas bought me a book of all her lyrics and it can be read like fine poetry. She’s absolutely extraordinary… Court and Spark is now one of my very favourite albums.

All Along The Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix  – playing it after a bad break-up and being insecure

Since first hearing this song when I think I was probably 18 or 19, I’ve always had it in my music. I do remember playing it very loudly and drunkenly after one bad break-up and I think the attraction there was the opening line, ‘There must be some way out of here’. But it’s just a great song and he again, what a talent and at the venerable age I have reached now, looking back at artists who died so young is particularly poignant I think. I mean you ache for them because you think what would Jimi Hendrix have achieved if he’d lived to past the age of 27? It’s just extraordinary that people produce work of that quality when they’re so young… I think the thing I admire most is having the confidence because I had the idea for Harry Potter when I was 25 and I’d done a lot of writing before then, but I was extraordinarily insecure and very rarely shared anything that I’d written. I wrote some spoof things for friends to make them laugh, but I never shared anything that I’d written in earnest because I was quite insecure. But of course performers are different and they are driven to share in a way that writers don’t do; obviously we live in a far more introverted life, but… I am drawn to biographies of people like Hendrix because I am just in awe of what they did and what they achieved.

River Song by Dennis Wilson – reminding her of the pandemic during lockdown

This is always going to remind me of the pandemic, this song, because I’ve been listening to his album Pacific [Ocean] Blue which is a bit of an undiscovered gem. I’d had it for a while and listened to it, but it seems to be speaking to me in lockdown and River Song – maybe it resonates because certainly lots of my friends have talked about rediscovering being in the natural world in lockdown – having space and time to appreciate the small things. That’s not to say that any of us wouldn’t change things in a heartbeat, but it has brought a lot of us closer to family. Just having time to enjoy small things has been one small upside of the pandemic

Waitress by First Aid Kit – reminding her of an old friend

I think they’re kind of wonderful. This song in particular reminds me of one of my oldest friends Lynn she and I were in Paris together, we’d never have met otherwise because she’s American. There’s something about our shared nomadic tendencies in this song because it is a song about escape and reinvention. Now I’m very fortunate, I no longer feel the desire to escape or to reinvent myself I am very happy and I have a wonderful family. But I think this is a song about young women feeling displaced and feeling anxious and I think that’s the reason both of us particularly love this track.

On her lack of belief/confidence in writing

You have to push through your lack of belief. Certainly with Potter and with other things I’ve written, I’ve put them down for months at a time. I have got better at believing that I can push through. I remember when I was writing Potter I was writing two other things simultaneously and slowly but surely I realised that Potter was the best of them. And even though I was very insecure I just kept pushing on, pushing on. Actually, the thing that pushed me to complete the book and really to have belief, was having made such a mess of my life generally. In fact I do remember feeling, ‘Look, so you get turned down by every publisher in the country, what’s to lose now?’ Well you know, it was even that I thought it would be a massive success because I certainly didn’t. What I did believe was, I came to a point where I thought, ‘This is a good story and I’m going to put everything into this and see what happens.’ And I’d lost the fear of failing or rejecting that had probably hampered me a little bit early on in my writing.

On the Robert Galbraith books being a desire to that that the writing was as good as she thought it was and it wasn’t her name that was selling?

Yeah, that was definitely in there. I think I had a real yen to go back to the beginning, to go back to what’s important. And to get unvarnished criticism. And so I became Robert and it was a fantastic experience. I can honestly say the rejection letters were fantastic. I know that sounds bizarre and masochistic, but it was satisfying because I was getting unvarnished feedback and I was resilient enough to think, ‘Well that is a fair comment, but no I don’t agree with that comment’ because you’ve got to have faith in what you’re doing but I’ve never been arrogant enough not to believe that I need feedback and a good editor is essential, however successful you are.

Ramble On by Led Zeppelin – growing up

When I was really young, I mean sixteen or seventeen, growing up on the Welsh border, Led Zeppelin was a real thing for me as an adolescent and my oldest friend Sean he loved Zeppelin and it was something we shared. I just love Ramble On.

Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers – on a moving marital moment and lockdown being a special time with her family

JK: Well I think of all the love songs written, this might be my favourite. It’s such a beautiful, simple sentiment, but I have an additional reason for choosing it, which is that it took lockdown for my husband to say to me… I was playing it in the kitchen while cooking something; he walked in, he said,  ‘This always makes me think of you when you’re down in London’ and that was a very moving marital moment so now it has an extra layer of meaning for me. [On lockdown]…. Well, I hope that all listeners have had the happy experience that I’ve had of it being quite a special time. We also have teenage kids and it’s been kind of wonderful to spend that extra time with them.

On being involved with the screen adaptations of her work

JK: Well, interestingly, I’ve been much more involved in the TV show than I have been with the movies. With the TV show, because I’m writing a series about my detectives, Strike and Robin, I have been very involved because I didn’t want the TV show to take them to places that I know they wouldn’t go because I know what’s coming, so that’s been such a happy project. I’ve loved all of it and I think and believe it’s been a very happy experience for everyone involved… a lovely cast and amazing crew, it’s been really satisfying…. It’s always a challenge because certain changes need to be made between novel and screen and I’m always sympathetic to that; different media have different demands, but the tv adaptations of the Galbraith novels I think have been very very faithful.

On fan feedback before it was known she was writing as Robert Galbraith

JK: The first three months I had, when no one knew it was me and I was Robert Galbraith, and Robert started to get letters… and fan feedback which was so genuine and so lovely. I think what people are mostly drawn to are the central relationship between the two detectives and I’m constantly being asked, ‘When are they going to get together?’ So, yeah, I think people will be happy with this book because they certainly do advance in their relationship, though possibly not quite the advance that everyone’s hoping for, but I loved writing that [latest book], it was a joy.

Dream On Dreamer by Brand New Heavies – on dreaming that Potter might be a success

JK: This is such a personal and meaningful track to me. When I was finishing the first Potter book, this track was being played constantly on the radio, and in one of the cafes that I used to write in, it felt as though this song was played every three minutes and I can remember more than once asking myself, ‘Is that who you are, are you the dreamer?’ [for] thinking that this can be published or will be published? But I still had this degree of belief in the story that quelled my doubts and made me keep working, difficult though it was at that time, so it always takes me back to just being on the threshold of the insanity that then ensued, because at that time I could have had no idea what was coming.

#jkr interview #jkr interviews #jk rowling #robert galbraith #harry potter author #joanne rowling #j. k. rowling #jkr #joanne kathleen rowling #author of harry potter #she who must not be named #she who shall not be shamed

[elletromil]

Pawnshop of curios meets old lady’s house

For @limrxspeaks and @stronglyobsessed

Enjoy the crack based on this post

Pawnshop of curios meets old lady’s house

Everyone is eying up James suspiciously as he pushes the gift towards Harry with a devilish grin. Even Harry is cautious as he starts to tear away the wrapping paper. He kind of regrets agreeing to participate in the Secret Santa exchange this year, but it’s so rare that he’s home around the holiday and not away on a mission. He had wanted to selfishly indulged in the good cheer with his friends. Pretend at a bit of normalcy.

The bland cardboard box that is revealed doesn’t give him any clue as to what the hell is making James giggle maniacally. Even Bors is edging away from him at this point and Bors has never had much survival instincts to speak of, just the most phenomenal luck.

But Harry refuses to show fear in front of all the other Knights. He’s got a reputation to uphold after all.

He slides the thing out of his box and after a moment of puzzlement joins James in his merriment.

“James, my good man, this is absolutely glorious.”

Judging by the groans from all the others, he’s the only one who seems to think so.

Whatever.

They’re probably only jealous not to be in possession of such a distinguished toilet seat.

***

Since it’s the second year in a row that he’s home around Christmas time, Harry had decided to show good manners and host the neighborhood party. And his decision really stemmed from the fact that he thinks community is important and not because he is bored and in need of cheap entertainment, no matter what Merlin said.

Anyway, Merlin really doesn’t have any ground to speak considering he accepted Harry’s invitation. And he’s the one gleefully keeping up a tally of how many children runs out of the loo in tears.

For someone who complains about the Knights’ juvenile behaviour daily, Merlin isn’t showing much maturity himself.

But then again, it’s Christmas. The man deserves a break.

And if he’s in a good mood, it means he’ll probably take Harry on for a little wager.

After all, Harry can’t be the only one interested in knowing which will be mentionned to him more, Mr Pickle taxidermy mount or the butterfly toilet seat.

And if not, well, the poorly disguised horror in everyone’s tone is amusing all on its own.

***

“Is that a dead monkey paw?”

Percival has always been a hard man to read, but after years of friendship, Harry thinks he’s showing genuine curiosity and not shocked disquiet like Mrs Hardwood from two houses down did the last time she had to use his loo.

“It is! My great-grand-uncle died last month and I got this in his will.” He had felt bad that he hadn’t had the time for a visit before the old man kicked the bucket, but George clearly hadn’t hold it against him. Or else he wouldn’t have left him such a cherished item.

“Hmm.” It’s apparently enough to satisfy Percival’s curiosity and he takes his seat back at the table as they continue trying to find a connection in a string of suspicious fires in Bristol.

He’s so used to Percival’s silences that he startles minutely when he speaks again.

“Did anyone ever tell you that your place looks like ‘pawnshop of curios’ meets ‘old lady’s house’?”

“No, never!” Not in those exact terms anyway. And it’s never been meant as the compliment Percival obviously intend it to be. “Thank you!”

The slight upward turn of Percival’s lips can only be called a smile as he nods politely.

***

“We were all very saddened to hear about Harry’s passing,” one of Eggsy’s new neighbours is telling him at the small wake he is holding for the man. The woman he assumes is his wife nods in agreement, but just a bit too fast to be sincere.

Not that they look happy about Harry’s death. Just kind of... relieved.

It’s still enough to make him want to yell at them and kick them out of the house, but like it or not, those people are going to be his neighbours from now on. He doesn’t want to start a fight, especially not today.

“So, what change do you think you’ll bring to the house?” The woman asks and for a moment Eggsy can only stare at her blindly. Changes? She thinks he’s going to change anything?

Why the hell would he do that? This house and everything inside is the only thing he has left of Harry.

Sure most of it is weird and some stuff is even downright creepy, but no. No he’s not changing anything. When his dad died, he only had a crappy medal to hold on to since his mum got rid of everything else in her grief. He’s not making the same kind of mistake.

Before he can say anything however he hears a few gasp and even the tell-tale ‘thump’ a body hitting the floor. He turns toward the entrance and freezes.

Because there, standing in the middle of the living room like he owns the place, is Harry Hart.

“Ha- Harry?”

It’s only when Harry’s eye fell on him and the other man smile with delight that Eggsy realises the meek voice had been his.

“Eggsy,” there are whole worlds of meaning in the way he says his name but their reunion is rather abruptly interrupted when one of the neighbour rudely points at Harry and starts to splutter.

“You! You’re, you’re supposed to be dead!”

Harry barely spares the man a glance before dismissing him, making his way to Eggsy. But, ever the gentleman, he still answer the wild claim.

“I’m afraid that reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

There’s another ‘thump’ as another neighbour faints.

***

Eggsy groans when he notices a new addition in the loo after coming back from his latest mission.

Sure the plaque is very tasteful, something that fits well with the more... ‘traditionnal’ part of the decor, like the pined butterflies. At least until one reads what is says.

“Harry! I thought we agreed to consult each other before adding anything new?”

Harry leans his head out of the kitchen, confusion writ all over his face.

“What are you talking about?” Eggsy narrows his eyes, but this is not Harry trying to be innocent. Mostly because Harry, for all his skills as a spy, is completely incapable of faking innocence. Whenever he tries, he only looks like a little shit.

“The plaque?”

“Oh! Oh that was a ‘welcome-back-from-the dead’ gift from Roxy. I didn’t think you would mind.” Harry looks genuinely sorry there. Which means he looks like a kicked puppy and Eggsy feels any residual frustration evaporates.

Anyway, it’s obviously Roxy’s fault. “It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting that.” But then again maybe he should have. All of their friends like enabling Harry’s weird decorating taste. “Let’s just make sure Daisy conitnues to use the bathroom upstairs.”

Because his mum definitely won’t appreciate Daisy getting nightmare from the omnious ‘If you complain you will be added to the collection‘ that has been engraved on the plaque.

#implied hartwin #harry hart #eggsy unwin #james lancelot #merlin #percival #roxy morton #kingsman #crack #harry hart is a little shit that live for the drama #but all his friends definitely encourage his behaviour #no one can convince me otherwise #fanfic #me

[joealwyndaily]

Sometimes the best Christmas presents are the ones we don’t think we need; a new Christmas Carol, for instance. Indeed it may be indicative of a certain unappreciated vacancy around the Christmas tree that in discussing the BBC’s new version of the Dickens classic both its director and leading man refer back to The Muppet Christmas Carol made way back in 1992.

“I was sent the script,” admits Nick Murphy, best known for directing the Rebecca Hall ghost movie The Awakening, “and my first thought was, ‘For God’s sake! The Muppets! They nailed it. What’s the point?’ ”

Joe Alwyn, who plays Scrooge’s clerk Bob Cratchit in the BBC three-parter, has meanwhile posted a trailer on Instagram with the caption: “Hard to fill the shoes once worn by Kermit. But I tried.” The self-deprecation was quickly “hearted” by the singer Taylor Swift, who is the actor’s girlfriend and who will be watching the mini-series with Alwyn and his family in London in the final days before Christmas.

There is nothing wrong, of course, with The Muppet Christmas Carol. It is probably in most people’s top three adaptations of Dickens’s masterpiece (alongside, I would say, Alastair Sim’s 1951 version and Scrooged). Its endurance does suggest, however, that it may be time someone did something a bit more serious, a little darker and a touch more grown-up with a tale that excoriated Victorian neglect and associated Christmas with the relief of poverty for ever more.

And this is exactly what Nick Murphy has achieved with a bracingly fresh script by the Peaky Blinders creator Steven Knight. Guy Pearce’s Ebenezer Scrooge is still a “squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner”, but since Pearce is only 52, there is rather less of the old. At the end of the novel, Dickens wrote that “ever afterwards” — that is after Scrooge’s Very Bad Night — “it was always said of him that he knew how to keep Christmas well”. That is rather more of an achievement when, as in this version, you may have 40 Christmases, rather than a couple, left to you.

Equally remade is Cratchit, who in Alwyn’s incarnation is far from the bashfully gulping frog thanking his master for granting him Christmas Day off before scampering back to Miss Piggy’s fleshy arms. Although Alwyn grew a rough beard for the part, his is also the best-looking Bob Cratchit you have seen. As the actor and I talk at the Picturehouse Central cinema in London, I find him as mesmerising off screen as on.

“Bob is trapped by Scrooge,” Alwyn says. “He’s abused by him. He’s not treated fairly. He’s there only because he has to be. He’s treated like shit.”

I’d say there’s a definite feeling in their shared scenes that Bob might just snap and hit Ebenezer over the head with a poker. “That was the intention. He’s at breaking point. He’s pushed right to his limits and Scrooge, I think, relishes winding him up. All Bob can do is hold his ground and fight back as much as he can — but he isn’t such a sap in this version.”

Scrooge and Cratchit’s relationship so much resembles an unhappy marriage that the niggling, bitter exchanges invented by Knight, with very little reference to Dickens’s dialogue, resemble Steptoe and Son rewritten by Strindberg. The easy contrast would have been with the Cratchits’ poor but happy marriage, but this too comes under scrutiny. There is an acknowledgment of the challenges a disabled child can bring to a household, and it is somehow emphasised by Tiny Tim being played by Lenny Rush, an extraordinary young actor, aged ten, who has a rare form of dwarfism called spondyloepiphyseal dysplasia congenita, the same condition as Warwick Davis.

“It really mattered to me that nobody was photo-fit,” Murphy says from a studio where he is dubbing the last episode. “Bob Cratchit is always a winsome, put-upon nice guy and the Cratchits themselves represent this idea of an ideal, working-class, lovely family. So we looked into their relationship on the page and there seems a genuine tension between Bob and his wife. Things are hard. It isn’t easy to have no money and a disabled child, and they lean on each other and they’re not straight with each other and there is a genuine antagonism between them.”

Knight has written into the narrative a family secret that connects the Cratchits to Scrooge. The secret belongs to Mrs Cratchit, played by Vinette Robinson, whose part is greatly expanded; indeed, the novella does not even grant her a first name, although the Muppets, and other adaptors, opted for Emily.

“Inevitably the secret begins to surface and cracks appear in the family,” Alwyn says. “Something has to happen. I think what Steven has done is take the story and drill deeper. He hasn’t taken too much liberty. It’s not bending the truth too much from what Dickens would have wanted. Or I hope not.”

Murphy insists that worthwhile adaptations of classic texts should be “edgy” and have “a good bite to them”. “If you absolutely don’t want any variation from the book then I strongly suggest you sit in a corner at Christmas and read it again. But if you want to see it used as a prism through which we can see a broader and slightly different subject explored, then this one’s for you.”

Alwyn’s performance is part of the iconoclasm. “Joe’s instinct as an actor is always to push away from the obvious and into ambiguity,” Murphy says. “He’s very quietly spoken. He’s not brash at all. He’s a gentle, intelligent guy, but he just simply wasn’t interested in fitting a Dickensian cliché.”

“I’ll take that,” Alwyn says when I pass on the compliment, having not considered his technique in such terms. He is 28 and would probably accept that he is best known for two facts: the first is that he is Taylor Swift’s boyfriend; the second that, aged 25 and with no professional acting experience, he won the title role in an Ang Lee movie.

He is from north London, the middle of three sons. Their father is the television documentary-maker Richard Alwyn, renowned for making The Shrine about the public reaction to Princess Diana’s death.

“He was away a bit,” Alwyn says. “He made quite a lot of films in Africa when I was growing up. He was often in Uganda, Rwanda at one point, South Sudan. So he’d come back with stories and artefacts from all over the place. He made a great documentary in Liverpool during the World Cup about two kids on an estate growing up there.”

His mother, Elizabeth, is a psychotherapist. So, I say, although his family were comfortably off and he was sent to the fee-paying City of London School, he knew something of other people’s lives?

“All different kinds of people, all different kinds of stories,” he says. “Obviously, she couldn’t share them with me in the same way that Dad could, but both their jobs take an interest in other people and are about how to empathise, understand, and listen to stories and tell stories. I suppose it’s not a million miles away from an actor’s job; listening to other people, understanding them, trying to tell stories.”

I ask about the contemporary political resonances of A Christmas Carol. I cite the wealth of certain members of his profession and of Swift’s. Only the other day I have read that she has a private jet so she can visit Alwyn on a whim. He promises me that 99.9 per cent of what the press write about them is false, and this is an example.

I ask if he finds it embarrassing.

“Find what embarrassing?”

The disparity between the amount some people earn and the wages of workers in, say, Amazon fulfilment centres.

“I saw something in The Guardian the other day, I think, saying that the top six richest people in the UK accumulate the same amount of wealth as the poorest 13 million. I think that was the figure,” he says.

And politics today?

“It’s bigger than Scrooge, but it’s the same thing amplified; not being able to see beyond yourself, building walls, cutting yourself off from other countries. If there was ever a story to counter that, featuring someone who epitomises that and then who remembers who he is as a human being, it is A Christmas Carol.”

Unlike the young Dickens, Alwyn was not a boy to stand on a table and sing and dance. As a child he auditioned to play Liam Neeson’s son in the Richard Curtis film Love Actually, but didn’t get it. He harboured ambitions to act, but pursued them only later at the University of Bristol, where he took plays up to the Edinburgh Fringe. One night he acted before an audience of one: the writer’s mother. Undeterred, he went on to the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama, joining the scramble at the end to find an agent. Weeks later, his new agent rang to say that Ang Lee was working on a new film, Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk, and wanted to see an audition tape.

“I got some mates to film me in a lunch break and then my dad filmed another scene, and we got a call that night saying, ‘He wants to meet you this weekend. He’s saying, we’re going to put you on a plane and take you out of school. Come for the weekend. Learn these scenes.’ ”

As Billy, a young US Marine fêted for killing an enemy assailant in Iraq, Alwyn was painfully believable; a virgin solider returning home to be exploited for an act that had devastated him. The film did not do well, mainly because it was shot at a hyper-reality frame rate that few cinemas had the technology to show, but Alwyn was on his way.

“Things only evolve by change and people taking risks,” he says. “And Ang Lee is someone who I admire for that. None of his films are the same. Maybe thematically they draw on the same things, but he’s always pushing the boundaries.”

The same can be said for A Christmas Carol and, even more, about Yorgos Lanthimos’s The Favourite, in which Alwyn appeared alongside Emma Stone and Olivia Colman. It applies less so to his other recent films, Mary Queen of Scots, Boy Erased and now Harriet, a faithful biopic about the slave liberator Harriet Tubman in which he played a slave owner’s son. What he has managed to do consistently is work and learn from some seriously good actresses — Colman, Stone, Saoirse Ronan and Cynthia Erivo. “I know. I am targeting them,” he jokes.

I tell him my daughters have insisted I ask if he minds Swift writing songs about him (whole albums, actually, but check out London Boy if you are in search of a little cringe). “No, not at all. No. It’s flattering.”

Does it matter to him that the press — it’s a bit metatextual this, I admit, for I’m probably doing the same thing — make it obvious that they are as interested in his girlfriend as they are in him? “I just don’t pay attention to what I don’t want to pay attention to,” he explains tolerantly. “I turn everything else down on a dial. I don’t have any interest in tabloids. I know what I want to do, and that’s this, and that’s what I am doing.”

The boyf, described only the other day as “mysterious” in one of those tabloids, is no mystery at all. He knows what he wants for Christmas, and it is the career he is already forging.

A Christmas Carol begins on BBC One at 9pm on Sunday

#joe alwyn #the times #taylor swift #interview #a christmas carol

[incoherentbabblings]

An Endless Hope (2/9)

After a horrendous blizzard falls over Gotham, Tim undergoes a sharp change in character before disappearing. Upon discovering what has become of him, Stephanie sets off on a solo journey in a magic realm to bring him home, meeting some faces which seems awfully familiar along the way.

Archive Of Our Own Link Click Click!

“Our tires have gone. Cracked and popped.” Red Robin reported, switching the interior car lights on, as Stephanie pulled out a small laptop tablet, switching to checking satellite views of the city. Tim peered at his dashboard, noting, “GPS says we’re down by Stagg Enterprises and the Trigate bridge but honestly… it’s reached whiteout. We can get out and –”

“No.” Batman interrupted. “Stay put. If your tires have frozen up it’s too cold for our suits for any trek across the city. I’m not far in my car. Signal, Robin, what did you find?”

“Mr. Freeze is a dead end.” Duke said over the commlink. “He made the valid point of this not doing much for his research. He was worried about the power outage.”

Red Robin and Batgirl, sat in Tim’s redbird car, watched the snow fly around them, heating blasting out hot air to keep the car and them from freezing. Tim peered out the windscreen, whiteout leaving them blind to the world. They could leave, but it was approaching minus thirty. Their regular suits were good… but not that good. For the moment, they were stranded, waiting for Bruce and his tank of a Batmobile to come to the rescue.

“It’s bizarre.” Batgirl said, scrolling through data. “Weather doesn’t work like this. The storm is just over Gotham. That’s not…that’s not physically possible. Blizzards are usually hundreds of miles wide. Not thirty and constricted to a bay. It came out of nowhere. There’s no way the air could grow cold that fast to freeze all that water naturally. And the wind is at eighty miles per hour. Normally it’s around forty.”

“The Flash has a weather themed villain.” Robin supplied.

“I checked.” Cassandra’s quiet voice, barely audible over the storm she was standing in, came over the speakers. The screaming wind cut off when she got inside, the door of wherever she was slamming shut. “He’s in Iron Heights. It’s not him.”

Stephanie continued to look through local news, in and outside of the city, desperate for someone over social media to have spotted something manmade about the phenomena. Tim jolted next to her violently, hands flailing over the steering wheel.

“Someone walk over your grave?”

“What?”

Stephanie put down the tablet and leaned over, staring at the white surrounding them. “Or did you see something?”

“You’d think I was crazy.”

“I’ve learned not to doubt gut instincts, Red Robin. They’re there for a reason. Especially yours.” Unable to spot anything but white, she looked back at him. Like her, his cowl was down, his nose red, skin very white. He looked frightened and instantly Stephanie became alarmed. “What is it? Did you see something?”

She whirled back around, hair falling around her shoulders and back. It really was too long at this point, but Tim reached up and tangled his fingers into it. Something to hold onto. He tried not to tug on her too hard.

“I just think someone’s watching us... me.”

“What? Who? Bad guy?”

“I think I’m seeing things.”

Stephanie hummed, slowly retreating into her seat.

“I’ll bop ‘em if they hurt you.”

Colour returned to Tim’s cheeks, and he smiled. “I know.”

The sound of roaring engines became audible over the car’s heating, and a little too close for comfort, the black Batmobile emerged, parking directly in front.

“Get in you two. I can’t drag the car with your tires gone. Lock it down, Red Robin. When the storm lessens, we’ll retrieve it.”

“Go ahead Batgirl. Locking it down will take a second.”

“’Kay.” She kicked her way out, fighting against the wind. Her cape, weighted so it wouldn’t fly up and around her face in such conditions, billowed out behind her, but her hair flew up and around her face. It made her stumble a little ungraciously as she felt her way around the car, opening the door enough to slide in the back.

“Jesus.” She breathed. Batman was looking over his shoulder, checking she was unharmed.

“I told you to cut your hair.”

“Yeah, yeah. I braided it but the wind…”

Bruce grunted. “We can’t do anything. We give it two more hours to show signs of passing. If not –”

“Call in the League?”

Batman’s face indicated he was not happy with the idea, but it was still the best solution. They were trained for street level crime, not climate change.

Tim tumbled in a moment later, shaking from the cold, slapping the ice and snow that had collected on his costume. Reaching across, Stephanie took off her gloves and placed her warm fingers on his cheeks, hissing at the cold. Tim sighed and closed his eyes, shivering.

“Where’s the others?” Stephanie asked, watching Tim’s shudders lessen as he warmed up again.

Bruce set off, heading back to Bristol.

“In the city tunnels. A lot of people are taking shelter there. They’ll be heading back now. We just have to wait it out for now.”

Stephanie did not miss the loathing in his tone at such an inaction.

“We can’t do anything for the time being.” Tim stated. “But when it passes –”

“If it passes.” Batman grumbled.

“–Then we’ll work overtime to help with recovery.”

Stephanie nodded emphatically in agreement.

“It’s not good enough.” Bruce muttered.

Stephanie went to remove her hands from Tim but to her shock he actually reached up and snatched her wrists, pulling her back. Damn, he really was cold. Usually he wasn’t that grabby.

“Sometimes ‘not good enough’ is all we can do.” Tim bit back.

Holding her breath, noting the tension in the car rising with the steady hot air being blasted, Stephanie pinched Tim’s nose, desperate to break the potential argument. Tim looked at her, a little outraged. Stephanie ignored him, speaking to Batman,

“Whoever did this – if it is a who – we’ll hold them to account.”

It really wasn’t good enough, and Bruce did not respond. The drive back was odd, Bruce relying on technology to navigate through the city. As soon as they cleared the bridge however, visibility resumed. It was a blizzard – a bad one – but nothing compared to what seemed to be only growing in intensity over the three main islands of Gotham.

When they arrived back at the cave, Stephanie asked Alfred to take a look at Tim, worried about his body temperature. She snuggled up to him, arms wrapped around his waist, cheek to cheek, as she tried to erase his shivering.

“Honey, why are you so cold? We weren’t exposed long.”

“Just feel cold. Like in my bones.”

She rubbed his back, trying to friction up some heat.

“Cuddle away then.”

“You’re like a furnace. It’s nice.” He sighed.

Alfred came over, took one look at Tim and shrugged off any major concern.

“Just a chill.” He confirmed after taking Tim’s temperature. “Take a warm – not hot – shower.”

“Sure Alfred.”

He went to walk off, hand around Stephanie’s, but she dug her feet in.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m gonna wait for the others to come back safe.”

Tim blinked, then looked down at his grip. She wasn’t showing it, but with a dropping sensation in his stomach, he realised how tightly he was squeezing her. Mechanically, finger by finger, he let go.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’ll be a little bit.”

She smiled, worry leaking through, and he dashed off. She flexed her wrist, hissing a little at its stiffness. Tim was just spooked by the weather, she told herself. Nothing more.

The others returned soon enough, following the city sewer systems back to the cave entrance. Tim eventually came back too, in warmer clothes, dry hair and a calmer disposition, and everyone sat by the computer, and waited.

*****

“How certain are you of this lead?” Tim asked three mornings later.

Bruce ran a hand across his face. It had been a long three days, Wayne Enterprises was going to be funding quite a number of building sites and repairs to basic utilities over the coming weeks, but for now, the weather had calmed enough for people to emerge from the lockdown. The streets were now filled with people enjoying the snow, to which Tim couldn’t blame them. There was something beautiful about freshly fallen snow and a horizon which blurred the line between sky and ground.

“Not very,” Bruce admitted, approaching the piano. “Hence why I’m only taking Robin with me.”

Damian’s little chest puffed out – proud to be the chosen one to accompany his father. Bruce looked at Stephanie, Tim, Duke and Cassandra as he spoke, deliberately holding their gaze to convey the importance he held their task.

“You four are remaining in Gotham. I’m trusting you to look after it until we get back. There shouldn’t be any major operations. The river is frozen, and many roads are blocked still with up to six feet of snow. But still, do what you can.”

“Be safe.” Cassandra urged.

Stephanie gave a tiny wave to Damian, who’s hand twitched to return the goodbye, but thought better of it, and he tutted and turned to follow.

Uncomfortable silence filled the house as the clock closed behind the two, leaving the four remaining members of the family stood awkwardly.

“Now what?” Steph asked, pushing back the heavy curtains to peer outside. “College is cancelled, no schools, no work… At least the snow has stopped. Should we monitor for problems or take a break… just for an afternoon.”

She looked back to smile at Duke, Cass and Tim, tilting her jaw outside. Cassandra clapped her hands in joy. “I saw on the tv people playing in the snow. I never have before.”

Duke gave an encouraging noise. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Snowball fight.”

Tim looked reluctant, until Stephanie elbowed him in the gut and agreed with Duke, saying, “Yeah. Sounds good. Need a bit of levity right now, huh?”

She raised her eyebrows, and Tim got the message.

“Oh! Yes. Sounds good!”

His tone was forcibly cheery, but he would warm up to the idea when actually outside, Stephanie thought.

Alfred, with the hearing of a bat, poked his head around a door frame. “Please wrap up warm, and shower when you are finished to bring your body temperature back up.”

“Can we have coco, Alfred?” Cassandra pled, eyes big as dinner plates.

“Yes, sounds a lovely idea. Try to get some joy from the terrible weather please, all of you.”

Cassandra burst off to get wrapped up, the other three trailing behind.

Stephanie laughed at Cassandra’s exuberance, trying to get her shoes on quicker. The Manor, built on the hill in the way it was, meant that the five feet of snowfall hadn’t reached the back door and steps. It did mean though, after some shoving by Cassandra, the door heaved open. She ran out, throwing herself down the stairs and onto a hug pile of freshly laid snow. She faceplanted with a shriek of joy, quickly creating snow angels. Stephanie trotted after her, calling,

“Cassie, have you ever made a snowman before?”

“No!”

“Me either. Help me?”

Tim watched for a little while as the girls – for a lack of a better term – frolicked in the white snow. Cassandra stood out more against the white, dressed from head to toe in black, Stephanie in that blinding white, purple and green jacket blended in a little more with the landscape. He was quite content to just sit on the salted steps and watch, but a solid smack to the back of his neck, snow and ice sneaking down his collar, made him squeal.

Duke laughed, “Bad form, dude! Gotta keep your eyes peeled!”

“Jesus!” Tim choked out, reflexively grabbing a pile of snow and flinging it back weakly. A snowball fight ensued.

Alfred watched the four from the kitchen window, more than a little delighted at the childish screams of joy that made their way across the Estate. At least some people were finding joy in such miserable weather. As an adult, snow only meant pain.

Transport difficulties, concerns about plumbing and electricity, would the roof cope? What if there’s flooding? Need to clear the sidewalks and drives and roads. Is there enough food to keep us going long enough for the storm to pass?

So many worries.

For children, it only meant wrapping up warmer, maybe missing a week of school, and games outside.

Never mind, let them enjoy it for a little while longer.

Alfred noted that flurries of snow had begun to fall, though immediately he could tell they snow was larger and slower falling than the other night. Still, the four had been outside for a couple of hours by this point, perhaps it was time for them to come in.

He moved away from the stove, turning off the heat on the milk, and making his way to the door to call them back in to warm up.

He managed to get the door open only to be met with a violent shriek from Tim, his body falling to the floor and curling up in a ball.

Instantly the frivolity stopped, and Stephanie burst across the snow. She wrapped around him, pushing his hand away from his eye. Cassandra and Duke hovered around, nervous and unsure.

“It wasn’t me.” Duke begged, “He was looking up, I didn’t throw anything at him.”

Stephanie cooed, trying to see the damage.

“What happened? Is it your eye? Did something get in your eye?”

“Get him inside so we can take a better look,” Alfred urged. “I worry the weather is only going to deteriorate.”

Alfred quickly put on the fire in one of the sitting areas and sat Tim down on the rug. He still had the heel of his palm pressed to his left eye socket. Cassandra and Duke continued to hover, nervous at the damage. Stephanie came through from the kitchen with a cold compact in case there was any swelling. She knelt in front of Tim.

“Can I see?”

Tim gave her a suspicious look, which she didn’t understand. Reaching him, she went to peel his hand away, and he flinched back. Her outreached hand froze in mid-air.

“Does it really hurt?” She asked. “Do we need to get to the hospital somehow?”

“No. I don’t want you touching me.”

She shook her head, reaching for him again. She tried to gently tease, “We can’t fix it if we can’t see what’s wrong. It’ll just take a second.”

Stephanie pushed back his hair from his forehead, as she always did to comfort him. She heard Cassandra gasp before she realised what happened, but Tim recoiled at the touch and – even worse – slapped her hand away from his face.

“I mean it. Don’t.”

It had been a while since he had directed such a sharp rebuke towards her. Her palm stung with the force he had smacked her with. Immediately, she entered a panic.

“You… Okay. I won’t. Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

His sneering look did not fade, and it made Stephanie get up off the floor. She passed the cold press to Alfred, who Tim, still looking supremely uncomfortable, allowed to examine the damage.

She left the room and the manor, sitting on the steps to try and calm down. Weird how one sharp word could make her feel like she was five years old again. The falling snow muffled the sounds of the Estate, and everything was eerily quiet, save the sound of her panicked breathing.

Immediately Cassandra came out and joined her, wrapping her up in a hug.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Stephanie whined.

“I know.”

Stephanie leaned down, forehead resting on Cassandra’s bony arms. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me. He’ll feel bad later, and you can talk it out.”

Stephanie nodded, knowing Cassandra was right. In the meantime, she flexed her hand, the one Tim had hit so sharply.

“He’s yelled at me before…”

“But never looked at you like that?”

“No.” Stephanie’s lip quivered. “I’m overthinking it.”

“You aren’t yourself when you’re in pain.”

Stephanie nodded fervently and frantically. “Right, right.”

They sat still for a while, listening to the silence. Then the door opened once more. It was Tim. Immediately Stephanie was on her feet. His eye looked fine, not even bloodshot or swollen.

“Are you okay?” She asked. He looked at her, suspicion gone but now a little bored and pouty.

“Fine. Listen, can we go home now?”

“Home?”

“To the apartment.” Tim shuffled in place, looking disgruntled. “I’d drive myself but Alfred won’t let me. My eye is fine.”

Confused, but deciding to not make a scene until they were alone, Stephanie nodded. “I’ll have to go slow. I don’t know how much of the roads have been cleared.

“Whatever.” He murmured, looking distracted.

Cassandra gave Stephanie a look which was a little unreadable. Stephanie gave her thanks to Alfred, and waved goodbye to Duke.

The drive back was painful in every possible way. Stephanie’s little purple car was sturdy, but she still went much slower than normal. Tim curled up in his seat next to her, head pressed to his knees. She could see that with one hand he was aggressively clawing at the centre of his chest, near his heart. Neither spoke for the duration of the drive.

When they got parked up, he slowly and stiffly got up and out. Stephanie grabbed her phone and messaged Duke that they had survived the journey.

She arrived in the apartment after Tim, finding him looking around the space with his lip curled. He didn’t look impressed with the place, as if it wasn’t his own home that he had decorated and lived in.

She sat her bag down by the door, and walked over to him.

“Sweetie, are you sure you’re okay? I hurt you earlier.”

“No. You didn’t.” He said, moving through to the kitchen. Whatever he was looking for wasn’t to be found, and he migrated upstairs to their bedroom. She followed, anxious about leaving him alone.

“Can I see your eye? I’d feel better taking a look myself.”

He sighed like she had asked the world of him and plopped himself at the foot of their bed.

“Hurry up, then.”

She approached him like she would a rabid dog, turning on the overhead light so she could properly see. Gently, she rested her fingertips on his cheek and brow bone.

Like he said, there was nothing amiss.

“What happened?” She breathed. “If nothing hurt you –”

“You’re really warm.” He interrupted. His disinterested look became hungry, and Stephanie dropped her hands, only for Tim to catch her wrists. His fingers were frozen, which should not have been the case after a car ride where the heating had been keeping them toasty. Stephanie felt a lump of ice form in her gut.

“Tim, stop it. What’s going on?”

“Cold.” He murmured. He squeezed her wrists tighter, tight enough to make her twist out of his grip in fear. Immediately he stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling into to her. Stephanie became stiff, listening to him licking his lips and mutter, “You’re warm. Hot. Need…”

Backing off just enough to look her in the eye, his expression twitched, and naked panic appeared for just a moment. Trying to maintain a poker face, Stephanie released herself from his grip, unnerved. Removed from her warmth his apathy returned, and the tenseness in his posture fled.

Confused, Stephanie massaged her wrists, and tried to buy herself some time.

“Go take a nap and warm up. Okay? Just… Just go take a nap.”

He smiled at her, but not warmly. It was mocking. “Yes, mother.”

The feeling of dread only rose and spread. She felt like there was a permanent clump in her throat. Finding there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t result in an argument, she just turned and left, leaving Tim’s sardonic smirk behind.

He had never made her uncomfortable before. Never. He had been angry with her. He had argued with her. He had yelled at her, belittled her, and once or twice in moments they never spoke about, he had been physically violent with her (the unspoken excuse was, both times, he didn’t actually know it was her… as if that made it acceptable). But never had she been made to feel unsafe. Tim was predictable in his moods. Whatever was going on frightened her. She shouldn’t have come back alone with him.

Maybe she could message Cass or Duke…they could get here in around an hour and…

While her mind raced, she resolved to make some comfort food for dinner. She opened the fridge, finding casserole beef that would be out of date in two days, an onion, a carrot, and three potatoes.

“Good enough.” She muttered and set to work.

Two hours later, as the stew continued to cook slowly in the oven and she was washing the dishes, Tim came downstairs quietly. He made his way over to Stephanie, finding it a little amusing how she tensed up when he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Stephanie managed to not gasp out loud when he pulled her long hair out of the way and pressed kisses to her neck, but she couldn’t help the involuntary goosebumps and risen fine hairs. He was frigid.

“How are you feeling?” Stephanie asked.

“Had a nap.” He rested his sharp chin on her shoulder. “I made you worry, didn’t I?”

She said nothing at his patronising tone, not sure what to say. Yes, and you still are. What the hell is wrong with you right now? But no, she was trying to be good and not respond and set off an argument.

“My eye’s fine.” He continued.

“That’s good.” She said, slowly leaning back so she could take off the rubber gloves. The moment she did, one of his hands snaked down to intertwine with her own. That did make her gasp, and flinch, but his grip on her waist tightened.

“What are you making?”

“Some stew to warm you up.” She replied, voice aggressively chipper.

Tim looked over to the oven, unimpressed.

“It stinks.”

Somehow that was the breaking point for Steph, who threw her arms back and moved away.

“What is your problem, huh?”

He looked back, almost gleeful. “You’re upset.”

“No shit I’m upset! Something’s wrong! You got something in your eye that made you fall to the ground in pain and now it’s nothing? You are physically cold as ice and you’re just being a pain and mean and childish and –”

“Childish. Childish?” He looked to the side as if he had a bright idea and moved away, back into the living room. “I thought you wanted that.”

“God, Tim, what are you blathering on abo—”

She cut herself off as he stood next to the windowsill with the flowers. It had been a couple of weeks since they had brought them home, and they were doing well, even with the general lack of sunlight. Tim stared at them like they were weeds, with nothing notable or pleasant about them, then he smiled maniacally.

With a carelessness comparable to a toddler throwing a tantrum, Tim pulled his red roses off the windowsill, the pot crashing and soil flying everywhere. Stephanie couldn’t help it, she screamed, stuck in place by the kitchen.

“Tim, no! No! Why would you… No don’t! Please don’t!”

His hand was hovering over her lilac flowers. His awful smile froze, then fell away, leaving an equally awful emptiness. His hand trembled, and his fingers instead stroked the petals. Stephanie twitched, half ready to body slam him if he threw her plant on the ground.

His hand fell away, and Stephanie – shamefully – began to cry. He had left her roses alone but wrecked his own.

“Why would you do that?”

He looked at her like she was stupid for not getting the joke. “They’re so ugly. And I thought it would be funny. Your face.”

“Funny?” She sniffed, eyesight blurry and nose running. She couldn’t bear how bored he sounded, how mean he was being.

“When you get all angry and hot.”

“Tim! You don’t do that to someone you care about!”

“Care about you? Do I?” He blinked, uncomprehending. He had gotten distracted again and was looking out the window at the snow.

She shrieked, feeling like she was talking to a brick wall or an uncaring five-year-old. She rushed over to his wrecked plant, trying to pack the soil together as best she could. Tim watched her for a moment, then kicked the spilt soil and plant. Stephanie flinched away, staring at the scattered dirt. Intentionally or not, he’d hit her hands that were trying to salvage the situation. It was such an unnecessarily spiteful and painful thing to do, that finally she’d had enough. Stephanie got up, and shoved Tim.

“Stop it.”

He didn’t look satisfied with her reaction anymore, and asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

“I want you to stop being so fucking cruel.”

It was like her words were literally going in one ear and out the other. It was like he wasn’t even talking to her, rather he was talking at her. Or he was talking to someone (something) else. “I’ll go then. I’ll go. I’m bored.”

She watched, mystified, as he put his shoes back on. He looked at her once and tilted his head like a confused dog, then moved back towards her. Still crying, she choked out,

“What are you –”

He kissed her, once, desperately. She flinched away, feeling violated for the first time in years. It seemed he was not happy with the kiss either. He looked off to the side, sucking on his tongue, musing the flavour. He shook his head once.

“No good.”

Stephanie stared, heartbroken. Tim just shrugged, like the entire thing was nothing more than a mild conversation about the weather. Grabbing her car keys. He opened the front door, giving a half-hearted farewell. And then he was gone. No coat, no gloves, no scarf. The snow flurries had picked up once more, as had the wind. He was going to very quickly freeze out in the open dressed like that. Even if he did have the car, getting stranded was a real possibility in the storm.

Hating him, but also petrified, Stephanie resolved to drag him back inside. She’d make him sit down, shove the stew she’d made down his stupid throat, then call Batman. She didn’t care what he and Robin were doing at the South Pole, something had gone very wrong back home.

Stephanie grabbed the apartment keys and grabbed her own shoes, running after him. The lights flickered, a power surge apparently occurring due to the storm, and she tripped over their pile of shoes at the front door and she tugged it open.

“You dick!” She screeched to the howling wind. No sign of Tim though, or her car. She jolted, confused at how he could have pulled out of sight that quickly. Already the tire tracks were covered in a fresh layer of snow. Her confusion quickly returned to anger.

Fuck him, she thought spitefully, slamming the door shut and going back inside. Getting back down to see what of his roses had survived his abuse. She cleared space in her own box, hoping that they would take in their temporary home.

She then went to call him, for once being the first to crack after an argument of theirs, only to realise before she clicked his face that his phone was still in his jacket that was hung on the rack.

He really had left the house with nothing on him but the clothes on his back.

She didn’t know what to do. She’d been an idiot during their time at the Manor and had left behind her suit, leaving her stuck inside with nothing warm or secure enough to go hunting for her purple car. As several hours passed, the more her anger made way for pure grief.

That wasn’t Tim. Never in a million years would he be that cruel. Angry yes, spiteful sometimes, but not callous. And he did care about her. She knew that for a fact. More than she believed almost anything else. Even when their relationship was at its worst, he had said, word for word, that he still loved her.

He wouldn’t make fun of her until she cried, he wouldn’t hit and kick her, he wouldn’t wreck a present that he knew was important to her, he wouldn’t be such a self-absorbed brat.

The wind screamed outside, and Stephanie blinked.

Freak storm. Tim’s adverse reaction. The pain in his eye and drastic mood swing.

The whole thing stank of something unnatural.

It was next to nothing to go off, but she had to try and see where that line of thought would lead. First things first though, she needed Tim to come home.

But he didn’t.

Panicking wouldn’t do any good. Tim could look after himself. Even in a storm like last night. Her little car was given to her by Bruce. It was as sturdy as a tank. He would be fine.

But still. Stephanie panicked and did not sleep that night. Instead she sat in the living room, drinking mug of tea after mug of tea, watching her roses and the snow blowing outside through the window. Occasionally she’d burst into tears, not sure what to do or what to say. She could brave the storm, maybe? But Tim didn’t have a key. What if he came home and couldn’t get in? What if he found a phone and called her, would she go to him then? What if, what if, what if?

Stephanie wondered briefly who people coped not knowing where their loved ones were before mobiles became extensions of their arms.

Maybe he’d just left Gotham, gone out of the city and away from the storm. It was minus twenty that night, again unbearably cold. Stephanie sat still, grief stricken, and waited for Tim to come home.

He never did.

Come the morning, she started her hunt, looking at the CCTV footage of Park Row and the neighbouring streets and businesses, but found nothing. The footage blinked, showing Tim exiting the apartment, then he and the car was gone, and it was Stephanie poking her head out to yell.

It was like he had shut the front door behind him and vanished. Or it would have been, if not for the fact that that blip of a power surge had happened at an awfully convenient time.

She messaged Cass and Duke, who confirmed that he did not return to the manor. A quiet enquiry to the Titans showed he had not made his way West either. The storm over Gotham that night was almost as bad as the first. He would have died if he did not find shelter.

The stink of the unnatural grew.

Her grief turned to panic, and two more awful days passed. The three of them took to frantic searching across the city, but a fresh layer snow made tracking her car difficult. Even worse, the GPS system installed by Bruce on her car (a safety precaution to now where she was at any given moment) wasn’t working. It hadn’t since Stephanie and Tim had arrived at the apartment.

Duke checked the different homes the Drake’s had owned just in case he had holed himself up there. The townhouse, the mansion in Bristol, but nothing. Cassandra and Stephanie had checked every safe house in Gotham, but no luck.

Duke wanted to inform Batman. Whatever lead Bruce was chasing, this was doubly important. One of his children had gone missing. Cassandra disputed Duke. Bruce had an entire city to worry about, adding Tim’s disappearance would not make him more urgent. If anything, it would make him sloppier. Nothing made Bruce more irrational than his family in danger. Let him tackle the issue with a clear head. The three of them in Gotham could find Tim.

But three days later, they hadn’t.

So Cassandra conceded, and the awful call to Bruce was made. Stephanie did not speak to him, but judging by Cass’ face after the conversation ended, it had not gone well. She relayed the information that his own search had been a dead end and would be home before the evening came round.

This served to make an anxious bubbling a permanent fixture in Stephanie’s gut. Surely if Bruce was coming home, the problem would be resolved?

A problem she had allowed to happen. Letting Tim just waltz out into a blizzard great job Steph.

No-one blamed Stephanie, though she certainly blamed herself. Tim’s roses were not taking to their shared space with Stephanie’s, and it felt like a miserable metaphor of how their relationship was seemingly incompatible.

What the actual hell had happened?

Staring at the roses, and hating herself a little, she decided to go speak to one of the few people in Gotham who maybe would have a clue about what was happening to the natural world.

Poison Ivy had a connection to the Green, whatever that was. It was a shot in the dark, but maybe Pamela would have heard something through the literal grapevine about what was causing the horrendous weather. From there, maybe Stephanie could chase a lead to Tim, and bring him home.

Alive. Preferably.

#dc #tim drake #stephanie brown #timsteph #my fic tag

[hanasaku-shijin]

By Her Side

Series: Lapis Re:Lights Characters: Tiara / Rosetta Words: 2,684 Genres: Friendship, General Summary: Rosetta is beyond thrilled to have her childhood friend Tiara join her at the Legendary Academy. Even though their lower ranking is at risk of getting them expelled, there is so much she wants to do by her friend’s side. ||  PATREON  ||  KO-FI  || COMMISSION INFO  ||

A/N: Okay, so I once again proved I have absolutely no self-control when it comes to fun series with cute girls who like each other, and I wrote this the day after episode 1 aired, before Lapis even has a fandom category on any site yet haha At this point, all I know about this series is what's been revealed in episode 1 and that's all. So I tried to just keep it all there and expand upon scenes that happened in canon so far, but just sprinkled in some of what I felt might be relevant, or have hopes for in future weeks of the show.

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By Her Side

Truth be told, Rosetta was absolutely thrilled to discover her beloved Tiara had somehow managed to end up at the Legendary Academy with her after two years, three months, and fourteen days of them being apart.

That glee and excitement had admittedly made her a little blind to the fact that - perhaps - some of the things that went on around here on a daily basis might prove to be a little overwhelming to someone who wasn't used to them.

Particularly the exploding arrows.

Presently, as one such arrow hits its target, the ensuing explosion bursts within the barrier in an eruption of flames and wind, and though the spell keeps the heat contained, the gust of air still snaps both hers and Tiara's hair and clothes back in a frenzy. To someone like Rosetta, it's just another everyday occurrence.

"You can basically take out a magical beast in one blow," she explains with a smile.

But as she turns her face to her childhood friend, she suddenly begins to understand this might not exactly be something she was prepared for.

Tiara's expression is frozen in spite of the flames, and as the winds die down, she begins to fall backward. It's such a surprise that Rosetta doesn't even have the time to remember how to reach out to grab her.

"Tiara? What's the matter? Tiara?! Tiara-!"

The poor girl hits the floor with a thud, and the shock on her face finally melts away as her eyelids fall shut and her head lolls to the side. Rosetta's heart jumps in panic as she drops to her knees beside her, and the old nickname comes without thinking.

"Tia-!"

The commotion draws the attention of the professor and the other girls who had been engaged in the exercise. They all peer around the pillars separating the firing range from the observation area in a fluster.

"Eh? What happened?"

"Who's that girl?"

"Oh no! Is she okay-?"

"Sh-Should we call the nurse-?"

Panicked, Rosetta reaches out to her friend and touches her cheek. Tiara feels a little warm, but it isn't feverish - likely just from the hot winds a few seconds ago. And her expression seems rather peaceful, so other than the fact that she's passed out, she seems all right. At the very least, Rosetta is glad she seems to have only fainted from shock, and nothing worse.

Rosetta breathes a sigh of relief. She lifts her head now to call out and answer the other girls' question.

"No, that's all right. I'm going to take her to the lounge."

Rosetta carefully slips her arms beneath Tiara's knees and shoulders, bringing her into her lap and close up against her chest. She strains out to also hook the handle of her suitcase on her fingertips. She braces herself to stand, and gets to her feet slowly. Somehow the weight of the suitcase is much more of a struggle to handle than Tiara's weight is.

Rosetta gets her bearings, checking to make sure her friend is secure in her arms before dipping her head to the other students, and then turning to start back the way they'd come.

As she walks with Tiara in her arms, Rosetta gets several concerned stares cast her way, but she smiles and reassures them all. She's glad that Tiara doesn't feel too hot across the rest of her body, so it's unlikely it's a fever. She has to keep reminding herself it was just the result of the blast, and nothing more.

By the time Rosetta reaches the main building, her fingers are beginning to ache under the weight of the suitcase, and yet holding Tiara still doesn't bother her at all. The stones sense her presence and allow the doors to open, and she hurries inside as quickly as she can manage.

She's a little grateful no one else is here at the moment, or else she'd have some explaining to do as to why their newest student was passed out in her arms.

She hurries to the couch and crouches to her knees, letting the suitcase slip off her fingers and onto the floor at last. With a sigh, she now focuses on laying Tiara down as slowly and gently as possible, doing her absolute best not to jostle her.

When she's finally succeeded in laying her down, Rosetta heaves a long sigh. But the worry continues wiggling in her chest like a fish out of water. She can't help but reach out again to touch her cheek.

"Tia…"

She's worried. How could she not be? After all, Rosetta had seen her fall ill many times in their younger years due to her weak constitution. She'd thought Tiara had grown healthier with age, but she can't help being concerned at seeing her faint like that after they've only just been reunited.

Rosetta shifts her hand, turning it over to rest the back of it against Tiara's forehead. She doesn't feel warm anymore. The fear that it could be another bad sickness like in the past begins to fade from Rosetta's mind.

But just to be absolutely certain, she moves a bit closer to her from her spot kneeling on the floor and picks up Tiara's hand from where it's been draped across her stomach. Rosetta holds her hand for a second, relishing the familiar softness of her touch before she remembers the bigger issue here.

She turns Tiara's hand over and finds her pulse, holding two fingers against her wrist. She locates the clock on the far wall and tracks a minute, counting the beats of her heart until time is up; she's relieved to measure a healthy resting heart rate of about sixty.

"Thank goodness…"

She sits back with a sigh, wiping her forehead where she'd started to sweat a bit from worry, though she still keeps hold of Tiara's hand as well.

Rosetta is quiet for a moment, gently lacing their fingers together and giving her a soft squeeze before letting go. She lays Tiara's hand back over her stomach, then lifts herself up onto her knees.

"Tia…"

She makes a move to touch her cheek again, but just before she can make contact, Tiara mutters a soft little moan. Rosetta gasps.

"Tiara? Tiara-?" She withdraws her hand to clutch them together at her chest now.

Tiara slowly opens her eyes, and Rosetta whimpers in relief.

"Tiara-sama! Thank goodness you're all right."

It takes some restraint not to embrace her. Instead, she sits back respectfully as Tiara slowly pushes herself up, looking around.

"Where are we?"

"This is the academy's lounge," Rosetta explains. "Are you in any pain?" She can't help but still worry for her a little. After all, she had fallen flat on her back and hit her head.

But thankfully, Tiara presents her with a smile.

"I'm all right now, Rosetta-senpai." Tiara takes a friendly stab at her with the formalities, and Rosetta relents.

"Ah… Sorry, Tiara."

"As long as you take the hint." Tiara gets to her feet with ease now, and Rosetta is glad she doesn't seem hindered in any way.

Rosetta stands as well.

"Why don't we head to our dorms for the day?"

"Sure!" she beams, giving a salute. "Lead the way, captain!"

"But before that, we'll need to get a certain something."

"And what's that?"

Rosetta steps up to her and pokes a finger at the thin red ribbon on her chest.

"Your uniform," she explains. "I'll go ahead and get it for you, so you can explore upstairs."

"Okay! Thanks, Rose!"

Tiara smiles again, and Rosetta feels a flutter in her heart when she uses the old nickname. She feels she should be used to it by now, since Tiara's addressed her by it all day, but it still makes her happy.

So the two of them part for the moment, Tiara heading upstairs as Rosetta retreats to the main office to collect her uniform. It only takes about five minutes, and once she has the bag in-hand she finds herself scurrying up the stairs rather excitedly.

She still can't believe this is real, that Tiara had not only managed to make her way here all the way from Bristol, but she'd managed to walk through the Chairman's doors right as Rosetta had. She wonders if it had been anyone else if Tiara would have been assigned to their group instead.

Just thinking about it makes her want to frown, so she shakes it off and hurries to the roof.

And even before she reaches the top of the stairs, she can hear the voice of an angel drifting down through the cool night air.

Rosetta slows her pace now as she reaches the top, and finally comes to a stop beneath the archway. She finds herself gazing at Tiara's back, and that sweet, beautiful voice of hers carries out on the twilight breeze.

"Oh guiding light, please shine upon us. Please shine upon us…"

Though she only hears the end of her song, it still brings tears to Rosetta's eyes almost instantly. She wipes them away, smiling as she offers a soft applause and starts walking to join her.

"You sound as lovely as ever."

Tiara turns around in surprise, then pouts a tiny bit.

"You should've said you were standing there. How embarrassing…"

"That takes me back," Rosetta says. "Wasn't that…?"

Tiara perks up and gives her a small smile in return.

"Yeah. It's my sister's song." She moves aside where she'd been standing at the railing of the balcony, making room for Rosetta to join her. Rosetta gladly takes her rightful place by her side.

Tiara turns around to lean her back on the railing, facing away from this new town of her future, and instead looking back, just for the moment.

"I was always so sickly, so she'd always make me feel better with her songs."

As she recounts the old memories, Rosetta is once again reminded of the troubling times of their shared past, when Tiara would often be bedridden with terrible fevers.

All Rosetta could ever manage was to stand and whimper, never feeling like she could do anything to help.

But Eliza would be there at Tiara's bedside to sing for her every time without fail.

Rosetta always wished she could provide similar comforts for her somehow...

"Eliza-sama loves you very much and was always worried about you."

"Yeah…" Tiara mumbles. "Back then, things were still…"

"Hm?"

"Oh, no. It's nothing!" Tiara gives her a reassuring smile, then leans back against the rail once more. "The reason I'm so much better now is because of my sister's songs. I'm sure of it."

Rosetta feels a wave of affection and adoration flood her heart, gazing at her strong and pure-hearted profile as a small breeze passes over them. She smiles too.

"Yes. I'm sure it is."

The wind strengthens just a little, stirring up their hair and caressing their skirts.

Rosetta looks out over the twinkling lights of the city and closes her eyes, breathing it all in. It's the first time in two years, three months, and fourteen days she's gotten to breathe in the night air with Tiara by her side. If she could be a little selfish, she'd wish to always be able to share her future days and nights with Tiara, too.

"What a nice breeze."

She reopens her eyes and turns to her friend, only to find Tiara's eyes closed once again. She's hunched over slightly, leaning in a comfortable stance against the rail, as if she'd simply fallen asleep on her feet.

And with the wind flowing gently through her hair, the city sparkling far below, and the calm night blanketing all around them, Rosetta believes she's never looked more beautiful.

She reaches for her, gingerly brushing the backs of her fingers across Tiara's cheek. She twirls a lock of her sunset-red hair, letting the strands slip through one by one, each like its own string of fate. If even one of them can connect back to her, Rosetta will be more than fine with that.

She lingers here with her, admiring Tiara's quiet beauty, and by some miracle resists the urge to kiss her.

Moments pass them by, until Rosetta is aware it's nearly time for the Lapis group to have supper. She wraps her arm gently across the small of Tiara's back, carefully coaxing the sleeping girl away from the edge.

"Tiara?"

Tiara moans softly, unconsciously turning toward her to rest her head on Rosetta's shoulder.

"Rose…"

Rosetta wants nothing more than to stay like this with her forever. But she can't let her own selfish desires get in Tiara's way of doing whatever it is she came here to do.

"It's time for supper," she murmurs, gently brushing her head against hers. Tiara yawns a little, but eventually steps away from the balcony with her.

"Okay."

She doesn't open her eyes right away, and seems perfectly content to walk with them closed for a moment, entrusting herself to her childhood friend. Rosetta keeps an arm around her and guides her as far as the staircase.

"All right, you've got to open your eyes now."

"Right." Tiara does as much, and when she looks up at her, it's like gazing into two endless summer skies. "Thanks, Rose."

Rosetta dips her head to conceal her blush.

"It's fine. Shall we?"

"Yes, we shall."

And so they head down the stairs together, and Rosetta savors the last few moments she'll have alone with her before they inevitably join the others.

And they'll still have to figure out a rooming situation, and there's also the fact that she has yet to tell Tiara about the ranks and risks of being a fellow Lapis like herself.

But Rosetta is certain that no matter what happens from here on out at the Academy - even if she gets herself expelled - she'd rather have done so with Tiara by her side.

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A/N: Gosh I have no excuse. They're just so good together. And if you really think Rosetta only thinks of her as a friend, I'm not going to say you're mistaken but like... oh man.

Not much for my first fic, but I wanted to keep it all mostly tame and in relation to canon, since at this point we have so little information to go off.

I wanted to mention not only Tiara's red ribbon but her hair also being red. String of fate and all that. I don't know, I think it'd be nice if she and Rosetta could be bound together somehow.

I'll more likely than not be writing more for them in the future if the show keeps being this good. After all, these two are gonna have their own room... My gosh...

#Lapis Re:Light #Lapis Re Light #Lapis #Rosetta #Tiara #Rose Tiara #Rosara #idk what their ship name is but as the first person writing for them im coining either or both of those #my writing

[legolaslovely]

Mistakes (Final Part)

A/N: Ah, last part! This could have been a lot more angsty but I just couldn’t do it to myself lol so have a semi happy ending and a probably weak female character but I hope you guys enjoy anyway. Maybe someday I’ll fix it lol Thanks to those who encouraged me to keep going with this story! There will be more Mitchell to come!

Pairing: Mitchell x Reader

Word Count: 2,609

Warnings: Spoilers, Language, Violence, LOTS OF BLOOD- like seriously, Angst, Almost smut

Summary: When (Y/N) pushes Mitchell away, he starts to lose his control and goes off with Daisy to get revenge on the humans for killing the vampires of Bristol

Mistakes Masterlist

It amazed Mitchell how quickly things could spiral out of control. One moment, he was dancing at a bar with (Y/N), the next, she was being attacked by Daisy in the bathroom. Then he had weeks of a normal, human life and now he was drenched in blood, stumbling to (Y/N)’s apartment. How did this happen? He tried to think back, but his mind was hazy. He took out a cigarette and somehow lit it with his red, trembling fingers. With every drag into his lungs, more memories flooded his mind.

He could still see George and Annie’s disappointed- no, disgusted faces when he reentered the house with Daisy and no (Y/N). They’re questions swam through his ears again as if they were standing right in front of him. Where’s (Y/N)? How could you take Daisy’s side after she almost killed you? What happened at the funeral parlor? What would happen now? He hadn’t given any answers. He just pushed Daisy upstairs to his room.

He could still see her closing the door with her hip and pushing off it, stalking over to him. She called his name and it brought him back to the day he’d met her. The two of them had killed five people, fucked each other for two days straight and then left the hotel room swimming in blood and bodies. Nothing like that could happen again. He stepped away from her as she rounded his bed as if they were fighting with swords instead of with their instincts and animal lust.

“God, Mitchell, look at you. You look like shit,” she said, grinning.

He shot her a glare. “Everyone we know is dead. What do you expect me to look like?”

“No, no. That’s not it. You’re pale and shaking, sweetheart. I know that feral look in your eyes. You’re starving.”

“I’m fine.”

“You need to feed,” she said. “You need to be satisfied. I can do that for you.” He moved away from her again. “Come on. You can let go with me in a way you can’t with a human. You don’t need to worry about hurting me. Don’t you remember what it was like? How good it was?”

She climbed across the bed and pushed him against the wall. He got around her, walked across the room, said ‘no’ to her countless times but somehow, she still ended up in front of him, kissing his neck and raking her long nails roughly through his hair. She ripped his shirt open and left marks on his skin. She grabbed him and palmed him, swiftly unfastening his belt before he could get his senses back. But he was too quick.

“Daisy, I said no. Your husband just died, this is… you’re in pain. I didn’t bring you here for this.”

“You sure love your little human, don’t you? Even though she can’t fully satisfy you? Are you really going to live this way for the rest of her life?” She held a hand up to him. “No, don’t speak. Don’t bother lying to me. If you can’t feed from her, she can’t truly satisfy you. But I can.” She bit her wrist, drawing a ribbon of blood. “Tell me she does this for you.” He watched her tongue lick a long stripe up her arm, collecting all the blood that had spilled. They watched more fall, and when her arm was drenched, she wiped it over his mouth. Her strong little fingers gripped his chin. “Don’t you miss it?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

His head swam. He felt the blood dripping down his face, puddling in the line of his lips and rolling down into the crevices of his neck. If he even passed his tongue over his chin it was all over. He sucked in a shaking breath and leaned his head against the wall, feeling his eyes flash black under their lids.

“Come on, Mitchell. Have a little fun.”

He distantly felt her hands on his chest, but only when he opened his eyes did he see his skin painted with the red flowers of her palms and fingers. She bent to kiss down his stomach.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” she growled.

“I don’t.”

“Lying again.”

He lifted her roughly from her knees and pushed her to fall into a chair. He buttoned up his shirt, covering the mess he wanted so badly to lick clean. “I don’t want this! I’m clean now. I don’t want you, Daisy. I love-”

“Isn’t that nice? You’ve found someone to love forever.” She moved to flop on his bed, rolling her hands under her hair to leave it spread out on his pillow like fire. “Too bad her life won’t be as long as you want it to be. What will you do when she dies, hm? When she gets hit by a car, or gets cancer, or dies in an explosion?”

“Stop it.”

“Or even worse! What if she never forgives you?” His stomach rolled at the thought and Daisy didn’t miss it. “Humans are fickle creatures, Mitchell. You do one thing wrong and they never forgive you. You’ve sided with me. You can beg and plead and promise, but after this? She’ll never take you back.”

He stood over her. “You don’t know her.”

“I know she has a temper. I know she’s afraid of us. They all are- the dogs, the ghosts the humans. Everyone you work so hard to keep safe would turn on you in a second.” She flipped on the bed and watched him pace through the room. “They’re weak, sweetheart. They hate us. Do you really think George and Annie down there care about you? Do you think (Y/N) really cares about you? They’re scared of you, Mitchell.”

He froze. It was true. Annie and George didn’t care about him. All the troubled nights he’d spent in the street, counting the people as they passed, watching the veins in their throats bulge with blood- all those nights, no one asked him if he needed help. No one came looking for him. Even today they didn’t even notice he was late from work. When they saw the news about the explosion, they were probably relieved. No more Mitchell. They had probably planned it-they spread it around, told everyone vampires existed and now humans were revolting against the monsters. They all wanted him dead. All except (Y/N). But he was dead to her now anyway.

The ground waved beneath him as his mind rushed. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the strong, metallic, delicious scent of Daisy’s blood. He opened his mouth to lick his lips and then stopped. This isn’t what he needed. He needed fresh, warm human blood.

Daisy stood and pushed him hard, knocking him from his daze. “Don’t you get it? It’s us vs. them now.”

He grabbed her face. “Then we’ll show them who they’re dealing with.”

As he stood outside (Y/N)’s apartment, he shivered and took another drag from his cigarette. He sat down in the dark, trying to remember what exactly had happened after that. But it was like watching someone else’s actions through a hole in the wall.

He saw Daisy running ahead of him, reaching her hand out for him while her laugh echoed off the buildings around them. He stumbled and pulled her off a drunk laying on the ground but was too late. She’d already bit him.

“He won’t remember anyway. You gotta lighten up if we’re gonna do this,” she said, slurring like she herself was drunk. She kissed him and smeared the warm blood over his face.

He slammed his head on the door to (Y/N)’s apartment and took another drag of his cigarette. When he closed his eyes, he could see Daisy in the flickering lights of the train. She held a passenger by the neck, the same way she held (Y/N) that night in the bathroom of the bar. He could hear her voice. “See? They’re scared of us.” Fighting and screaming filled his senses until he screamed himself.

“(Y/N)!” He got himself up and slammed his fist on the door. He knew it was wrong to come here. She told him she didn’t want to see him. What if he woke the neighbors or one of her roommates came to the door and saw him like this? He didn’t even want (Y/N) to see him like this but he couldn’t stop himself from pounding on the door and yelling for her.

The door flew open. “Mitchell,” she breathed.

(Y/N) brought him in and dragged him up the dark stairs into her room before either of them could say anything else. Then when he was standing before her- with soiled, ripped clothes, sweat soaked hair in his eyes, red, tear stained cheeks and blood covering him from head to toe- only then, she spoke. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

He fell to his knees, barely touching her. He sobbed. “How could you ask that? I’m covered in-in blood and you ask me if I’m all right? I’m the monster here. You should be worried about the other people.”

She knelt before him, swiping his hair from his painted face. “Don’t touch me,” he said. “You’ll get- I don’t want this on you.”

She did her best to lift him. “Come in here.”

He squinted when the bright light of the white bathroom flicked on. He felt his stomach churn as it made him think of the flickering lights on the train. He muttered her name and distantly felt her undressing him and she swatted his hands away when he tried to help. The smell of what he’d done still swam around him, making his blurry head pound. He could only imagine how (Y/N) was fairing, how she was feeling. She made him step into the flow of the warm stream of the shower and then she left.

So that’s how she felt, he thought. He couldn’t blame her. She couldn’t exactly leave him outside on her stoop but it wasn’t up to her to do anything more. He leaned forward and let the water of the shower mix with the tears on his face.

Then the shower door creaked open again. He wiped his eyes and saw (Y/N) had braided her hair back and undressed to join him and was now lathering sweet smelling soap in her hands to do her best to rid him of the foul memories that stuck to his skin. “Your clothes are in the wash,” she whispered.

“(Y/N).” He stopped her hands. “I’m so sorry. There are things you need- you- you need to know what happened-”

She shook her head and ran her hands down his painted chest. “We will talk about it in the morning.”

“I’m so sorry. You have to know that you are-” He started to shake.

“Mitchell, just try to relax, babe.”

He watched her every move as she bathed him and washed his hair. Her palms rubbed cleaning circles over his chest and stomach, undoing Daisy’s work. He watched her fingers run down his arms and over his legs and barely felt them, like he was watching her with someone else. His breathing slowed as the floor of the shower faded from deep red to pink to white and the remnants of the night disappeared down the drain.

He avoided the mirror as he dried himself off and took her outstretched hand to let her lead him back into her bedroom. She dug through drawers and handed him a pair of sweatpants that were too big for her and an old t-shirt. He unfolded it and looked at the lettering on the front.

“This is mine,” he said.

“I know. I stole it.”

He huffed. “I’ve been looking for this.

A smile tugged at her lips for the first time in days. “Drink this,” she said, handing him a bottle of water. He fidgeted with the cap and watched her move to sink into her bed. She patted his side of the bed, inviting him to join her.

“I’ll sleep on the couch downstairs,” he said.

“No, you won’t. You’ll stay here.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Mitchell.”

He sighed and resisted the urge to throw the water bottle across the room. “I am not getting in that bed until you know what happened tonight.”

She sucked in her bottom lip and moved across the bed to sit in front of him. She grabbed his hands and looked up at him. “Then tell me because after seeing you like that, I won’t let you sleep anywhere else.”

“I don’t deserve your pity,” he said, watching her fiddle with his fingers.

“It’s not pity, Mitchell. I love you-”

“I almost slept with Daisy.” A shot of pain and regret ran through him as her fingers froze. He knelt before her but she avoided his eyes. “I let her kiss me and the blood on me- it was hers. She tried to get me to feed.”

“Did you?”

“No. Not on anyone. But she convinced me that it was us against them, vampires against humans. And she did it so easily. We almost… There was a train stopped in the tunnel tonight with at least twenty people on it and I wanted to kill every single one of them. I wanted to rip their throats and drink them dry. Twenty of them for thirty of us.” He paused, staring at (Y/N)’s hands still in his grasp. “We almost did it, (Y/N),” he whispered.

“’Almost’ is the key word here, Mitchell. We all almost do a lot of things but it’s what stops us that matters.”

He met her eyes. “How can you say that?”

“Did you sleep with Daisy?”

“No, but I let her kiss me and-and touch me-”

“Did you kill anyone tonight?”

“No! But I was so close to it!” He stood, dropping her hands. “I can still taste it! I’ve been going fucking insane all god damn day and you’re telling me it doesn’t matter?”

“Of course it matters! Look at how far you’ve come. You’re the person you’ve always wanted to be, aren’t you? You looked temptation in the face and said no! For the past one hundred and however many years you could never control yourself and you did tonight.”

“Barely!”

“But it was good enough.” She met him by the window, putting her hands on his waist. “Baby steps, Mitchell.” She rested her head on his chest and looked out the dark window, past their reflections to the lights of the city.

He kissed the top of her head and then lifted her chin to face him. “I’m so sorry. I should have handled all of this better. I shouldn’t have brought Daisy back into our lives.”

“I understand why you did it.”

“I betrayed you and I’m sorry.”

She kissed his finger and leaned back against him. “Where is she now? What happened to her?”

“She’s gone.”

Her chuckle reeked of disdain. “That’s what you said last time.”

He sighed and rocked (Y/N) in his arms as he kissed her forehead. “Do you remember I told you about the Old Ones?”

She hummed.

“They took care of her. I promise, she’s gone now.”

(Y/N) was relieved but jealousy and pain still bit at her chest. She sighed. “Let’s just go to sleep, hm? We still have a lot to talk about and probably to fight about, but...” she trailed off.

His hands framed her face. “I’ll fight for you. And for what we have.”

“Me too.”

He kissed her and tried to tell her just how much he loved her.

“Love you too, Mitchell.”

Taglist! Message to join! @emrfangirl @misslongcep @raindancer2004 @ladybugg1235 @xxbyimm @burningcoffeetimetravel @fizzyxcustard

Tagging those who may enjoy! @dashesofink @c-s-stars @marigoldvance @ailikananopop @sassyfrasy

#mitchell #mitchell x reader #john mitchell #john mitchell x reader #mitchell being human #being human #being human bbc #being human fanfic #being human fanfiction #being human uk #john mitchell being human #fanfiction

[medea10]

My Review of Fruits Basket (2019): 1st Season

#Fruits Basket #Tohru Honda #kyo sohma #Yuki Sohma #Akito Sohma #shigure sohma #arisa uotani #saki hanajima #momiji sohma #Kisa Sohma #ritsu sohma #ayame sohma #hatori sohma #hiro sohma #kazuma sohma #anime review

[varietywritings]

SOLACE

Draco Malfoy x OC!Esme Prewett

Solace Summary

CHAPTER ONE: THE SUNSET IS THE SAME FROM BRISTOL TO LONDON

Esme Prewett sat at her desk; the wood color was unknown even to her as it was covered in spare parchment, books, quills, and some liquorice wands—these were her favorite wizarding candies. Her audacious tabby, Sebastian, tried to fit his massive body between a pile of muggle books and an open bottle of ink. The ink tipped, spilling all over Esme’s notes from the wizarding book, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. Though this would be her third time reading the book and the notes weren’t for anyone but herself as it was summer, she cursed at the cat; Sebastian looked satisfied by his accomplishment.

A loud peck on the window startled Esme, causing her to forget all about her desecrated notes. Ron’s fiery owl, Pigwidgeon, stood on her window sill, staring at Esme with his gleaming amber eyes. She smiled, sliding the window open so the small bird could enter her room. Esme untied the letter and small parcel from his leg and he began to bounce around impatiently as she read it.

Dear Essie,

We miss you over here. Mum has been intense, making us clean all the time. We’re so bored. I don’t know if they’ve written to you, but Fred and George have created loads of new joke products and we’re the test subjects. Professor Lupin nearly ate a fainting fancy. Luckily, George smacked it out of his hand. Mum was furious; it was truly hilarious.

Professor Lupin? She thought. Why would he be at The Burrow? Why is Molly making them clean? Her house cleans itself. She shrugged her confusion away and continued reading. Pigwidgeon began rapidly flying around her room; Sebastian followed him with his eyes.

Oh, Dad and Percy got into it the other day. He was promoted at the Ministry. He’s so far up Fudge’s arse that he neglects his own family. What a load of bollocks. Have you heard from him? Mum and Dad are very upset. Dad’s broken countless muggle artifacts and mum will not stop crying. He said some really awful things about not accepting us as his family anymore.

Bill is back home by the way. He took a desk job at Gringotts. I think he misses Egypt more than he lets on. You remember Fleur Delacour, right? He’s been giving her English lessons. I think he fancies her, but he won’t admit it.

Why on earth would Bill have taken a desk job? He loved the tombs. He loved Egypt. Things weren’t adding up to Esme; nevertheless, she kept reading.

It’s weird not having you spend the summer with us. I’m guessing you’ve got a lot of reading done. Hermione has too. How has your mum been? Is she even home?

I’ve attached a bag of liquorice wands. I figured you were running out. Tell Seb I miss him and I wish he were here in place of Crookshanks. Are you packed and ready for Hogwarts?

Can’t wait to hear from you,

Ron

PS: Pig couldn’t wait to visit. I’m sure he’d love it if you let him stay for a bit.

Esme sighed as she looked around her messy room. She wasn’t leaving for Hogwarts for a couple weeks, so she didn’t feel a need to pack just yet. She added Ron’s letter to the immense stack of letters she had received since her mother cut her off from the Weasley’s. There were several from Bill and Charlie, Ron sent her one weekly, Fred and George sent a couple, and Ginny sent almost as many as Ron. Esme loved receiving letters from her cousins as she was used to practically living with them until reports of Voldemort’s return surfaced via Harry. Esme believed him even though it pained her to admit. Sadly, her muggle mother believed him too and refused to let her interact with the wizarding world. As a result, Esme carefully hid the letters in her sock drawer.

She had been trapped in Bristol all summer while her mother traveled on business. As nice as the silent—apart from the occasional meow from a hungry Sebastian—house was when she was trying to get work done, she was lonely. She missed the terrible pranks Fred and George played, helping them plan those pranks, talking with Ginny, chess with Ron.

Esme laughed to herself at the sprightly little owl who had now landed back on her nightstand. Sebastian, still on her desk, was starting to drool on the parchment. Esme snarled her nose slightly, but she refused to bother him. She grabbed a clean piece of parchment and some fresh ink and began thinking of her response to Ron. She took her time so Pig was well rested.

Dear Ron,

I miss you guys too!  I’m sorry you’re bored. I am too. Can only read so much. Fred and George haven’t written to me in a few weeks. Are they still apparating everywhere? They told me they were using each other as testers and Aunt Molly thought they had been fighting.

Why was Professor Lupin at the Burrow? Is everything okay? And Bill? Why did he move back? Egypt was his favorite place on Earth. I’m happy for him and Fleur. He hasn’t written to me in a bit.

Percy has written to me, but he didn’t mention the promotion or his quarrels with Uncle Arthur. I can’t believe Percy would say things like that.

I wish I didn’t tell me mum about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She freaked out. I get it, but she has to let me live. She’s not even here, and if she was, how could she possibly protect me?

I can’t wait to get out of this gloomy house and out of this town. Sebastian misses you guys. He is restless without you and the twins torturing him. He misses watching me destroy you in wizard’s chess and frankly I do too. Tell everyone I love and miss them. Tell Gin I’m awaiting her next letter.

Pig was a delight to have today. Thank you so much for the liquorice! Also, of course I am packed for Hogwarts. You know me, always prepared.

See you soon,

Esme

Esme threw the quill down on her desk and quickly rolled up the smudge-free parchment. She reused the leather strip Ron had sent to tie her letter to Pigwidgeon’s thin leg. His excitement heightened as she tightened the knot. He almost looked as if he was smiling. She petted his grey and white feathers before he took flight out the window and back to 12 Grimmauld Place—or the Burrow as Esme thought.

✶✶✶

Esme was up rather late redoing the notes Sebastian so gracefully destroyed. She didn’t mind though; it gave her a chance to make them neater. Esme could swear she heard the front door creak open, but decided ultimately that she had just stayed up entirely too late and was incapable of proper cognitive functioning. She closed the newest ink bottle she was using and got up from her desk. She saw a sleeping Sebastian on her bed and decided to join him until she heard a loud thud from the living room downstairs. She quietly ran to her desk and pulled the middle drawer open, grabbing  her spruce wand with a white-knuckle grip.

It’s probably just your mother home early from her trip. She thought. She checked the time: 1:34 A.M. Her flight could not have landed this late. She was hesitant to open her bedroom door. It could definitely be your mother, but it could also be a murderer or two. It’s probably fine, right? How often do bad things truly happen? But Voldemort is back. Bollocks. She reaches for the door knob, but then pulls her hand away and backs up. The staircase creaks as if multiple people were walking up it.

“It’s going to be less dangerous to take her than Harry.” An unfamiliar female whisper came from the hallway.

Esme furrowed her brows and adjusted her ever-tightening grip on her wand. Less dangerous? Where exactly do they think they’re taking me?

Esme’s bedroom door flew open and a gust of wind disturbed Sebastian. The light from the hall made it difficult for Esme to see because her room was dark. Once her eyes adjusted, they met with the eyes of an unfamiliar face. She was a witch with violet hair. Esme froze before her, her heart beating at an unnatural pace.

“Ron said you’d packed already.” This violet-haired witch sighed, leaning against the door frame.

“I’m so—who are—” Esme tried to gather her thoughts to speak.

“Ms. Prewett.” A familiar voice came from a tall wizard standing behind the witch.

“Professor Lupin?” Esme smiled. Her shoulders relaxed; she didn’t even notice they were tense. Lupin was her favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to date. “What are you do—”

“No time to explain, sweetheart.” Arden, tenacious auror, Harry’s godmother, and Esme’s hero stood beside Remus Lupin reaching his chin. The Arden Walker is in my home. Esme was ecstatic as she hadn’t seen her idol since she visited Lupin’s class as a guest speaker in her third year.

“I’m Tonks.” The violet-haired witch smiled. “We have to get you packed.”

Esme smiled back at her. “Where are we going?”

“London,” Lupin chimed.

“London? Where are my aunt and uncle?”

“London.”

Esme gave the three an incredulous look. “Why?”

“Again, no time. Let’s get you packed,” Tonks declared impatiently.

Esme motioned for Tonks to enter her bedroom. Lupin and Arden went downstairs to get the brooms. Esme opened her brown trunk and began shoving clothes and parchment into it. Tonks waved her wand and everything Esme needed—books, parchment, dozens of ink bottles, her cauldron, scales, clothes, and even her postcards from her mother—chucked themselves into her trunk.

“That works.” Esme shrugged. “Thanks.”

Tonks nodded. Esme picked Sebastian up and shoved him in his blue carrier. He was less than excited, so she placed a few treats with him.

“Locomotor trunk.” Tonks said with her wand in hand. The trunk hovered and followed her wand motions downstairs.

“Ready to go?” Lupin questioned.

“I need to leave a note for my mother. She’d figure out how to contact the ministry just to spite me if I didn’t.”

“Nonsense, I already left one explaining the situation,” Lupin reassured.

“Well, then I’m ready!”

“Can you fly?” Arden asked.

“Uh—”

“No, she’s terrible,” Lupin teased.

“Hey!” Esme yelled in defense.

“Well, can you?” Tonks questioned.

“Well, no. Not well. I don’t even have a broom. I—er—borrowed George’s for class my first year and nearly snapped it in two only three feet off the ground.” Esme looked to the floor.

“You can ride with Arden. Tonks will take your trunk and Sebastian can come with me.”

Esme was elated to ride with her idol. The trunk stayed just behind Tonks as she led it outside into the streets of Bristol. The Hogwarts Crest on the lid beautifully reflected the moonlight. She used her wand to place it in the harness hanging from her broom. Lupin started to put Sebastian’s carrier into the harness below his broom.

“I’m not sure he’s going to be okay with that.”

“It’s a straight shot. Less than an hour,” Lupin reasoned.

“Your point? He’s a cat. A very pretentious cat I might add.” The three aurors looked at her with blank expressions. “He’ll be screaming the entire way there.”

“He’ll be okay.” Arden placed her hand on Esme’s shoulder. Esme relaxed and gave in.

Remus carefully placed Sebastian’s carrier in the harness. Everyone mounted their brooms. The night was warm, but windy making the flight a little rough. Arden was amazing at controlling the broom. She landed it serenely and methodically in front of a row of houses not so different from the one Esme and her mother lived in.

“I forgot to get Dumbledore’s deluminator from Moody.” Lupin grumbled.

“It’s almost three. I’m sure there aren’t any muggles looking out the window.” Tonks justified.

“Plus, they’re the least of our worries at this point.” Arden maundered.

Esme and Tonks removed her trunk from the harness while Arden grabbed Sebastian and his carrier.

Lupin moved his head back and forth to ensure there was no one around. He leaned closer to Esme and whispered, “12 Grimmauld Place. Where would it be?”

Esme, confused at first, looked to the house numbers in front of her. She found they were labeled as 11 Grimmauld Place and 13 Grimmauld Place. She blinked and all of a sudden, houses eleven and thirteen parted and an identical—except for the dirt and grime—one appeared in the middle labeled 12 Grimmauld Place. The dark night was as silent as ever before. The muggles didn’t seem to notice the sudden movement.

Lupin swiftly walked to the front door, holding it open for Tonks and Esme to carry the trunk in and Arden to carry the large cat in. Lupin checked his surroundings before joining them and quietly closing the door behind him. The hallway was dim and empty. The house was silent. Arden sat Sebastian’s carrier down and opened it. He quickly darted out of the carrier and across the room.

“Let me show you to your room. I can imagine you’re just yearning to get to sleep,” Arden said in a hushed tone; her Southern American accent almost disappearing into a more plain American accent. “Hope you don’t mind sharing a room with Ron until Harry gets here.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Esme whispered following Arden upstairs. Arden placed her trunk and the now-deserted cat carrier in the hall outside the room. Why does Harry get to take my bed? Where am I going to sleep when he gets here? Esme was too tired to figure that out. She snuck into Ron’s room as best as she could—he was snoring lightly, but she didn’t mind as she was used to sharing a room with Sebastian. She didn’t bother to change and plopped down on the bed which had what seemed like a centimeter of dust garnered on top. She suppressed a cough. I thought they were cleaning all summer.

✶✶✶

After breakfast, Esme found Bill in the lounge going over some parchment.

“What’s that?” She asked hopeful to get some information from him. No one had explained why they were in a dingy old house in London.

“Jus’ some stuff for The Order.” He quickly rolled the parchment up and sat it in his lap.

“The Order?” Esme questioned.

“They haven’t explained everything to you?”

“Nope. Just arrived early this morning.” Esme sat on the couch diagonally from  Bill.

“The Order of the Phoenix: they’re a group of retentive witches and wizards fighting against You-Know-Who’s cause. They were active during the Wizarding War.”

“Who was in this group?”

“Well, Remus, Sirius and Arden, James and Lily Potter, The Longbottom’s, and—erm—your father and Gideon. Of course, there were others too, but their names are escaping me.”

Esme’s olive-green eyes widened and her mouth fell open slightly; she was nearly the spitting image of her father, Fabian Prewett; she had a long, thin face accompanied by a long, protruding nose. “My—my father?”

“Yep.” Bill smiled proudly thinking of his uncle’s accomplishments.

“Is that why death eaters killed him?”

His smile quickly faded and he dolefully looked at his cousin. “Yeah.”

Esme looked to the floor. “And now you’re a member?”

Bill nodded realizing Esme wasn’t looking at him. “Er—yeah. Along with mum, dad, Charlie, Tonks, and a bunch more. Charlie’s staying in Romania trying to recruit witches and wizards.”

Esme looked at Bill again. “And Percy?”

He hardly winced at the mention of his name. “Don’t bring him up in front of mum and dad.”

“I know. Ron mentioned the promotion and his fight with Uncle Arthur in his last letter.”

“It was horrible. Mum hasn’t been in a good mood since. Percy doesn’t believe Harry saw You-Know-Who because Fudge doesn’t believe it. Dad tried talking sense into him, but it was no use.”

“That’a a shame. So, how do I join?”

“The Order?”

Esme nodded.

“You don’t. Mum won’t let you; you’re too young. Besides, we’ve got this handled.”

“Do you? You had to leave your job—one that you absolutely love—to join this Order. I want to help.”

“Es, you can’t help. Maybe when you’re of age, but hopefully by then this will all be over.”

Esme wanted to continue arguing but decided it was best to bite her tongue as she still had information to get from him. “So, Fleur Delacour, hm?” She smirked.

Bill was surprised Esme didn’t debate him more on joining the Order but ultimately didn’t want to question this refreshing turn of events. “And who told you about her?”

“Ron. He told me you’ve been giving her English lessons.”

“She just wants to improve at her English and I’m fluent, so what’s the big deal?” His cheeks were an almost unnoticeable shade of pink, but Esme noticed.

“Do you like her?”

“Of course I like her. She’s extremely kind, really smart too.” Bill was looking off into the distance, daydreaming of Fleur.

Esme started to further inquire about her, but a loud crack interrupted her thoughts and made her jump out of her seat. The twins appeared in front of the couch. Fred was holding Sebastian.

“You arseholes.” Esme’s voice quavered. Her heart was beating rapidly. “You apparated with my cat?”

“He was fine,” George said calmly.

“He rather enjoyed it actually,” Fred reasoned. “Jumped right into me arms.”

Esme’s blinks were slow as she was trying to comprehend what exactly went through Fred and George’s minds. “I’m going to take my cat now, if you don’t mind.” She didn’t wait for a response and reached out for her traumatized tabby who gladly snuggled into her chest.

“So, what have you two been talking about?” George asked.

“Sod off.” Esme sat back down on the couch; Sebastian curled up in her lap and started purring.

“Woah, Esmie. That’s a bit harsh don’t you think?” Fred smiled.

Esme playfully rolled her eyes at the two who sat on the couch on either side of her. “Congrats on passing your apparition test!”

“Thanks,” the twin boys sang in unison.

“Is it freeing to practice magic whenever you want?” Esme asked longingly.

“Not when mum yells at us for doing it.” Fred forced a laugh.

“Speaking of unbearable, how’s Margot?” George sneered.

“Don’t know. She’s been gone on a business trip the past week, s’posed to come home tomorrow.”

“We’ll see about that.” Bill laughed through his nose causing Esme to smile.

✶✶✶

The next couple of days were monotonous; this made Esme a tad anxious. She was almost joyed by Harry’s arrival as it was something that didn’t have to do with dusting every surface on every floor of 12 Grimmauld Place. Sebastian rapturously greeted Harry at dinner evoking a groan out of Esme.

Esme sat in the center of the table between Ron and Fred. Molly droned on and on about them all, especially Harry, being too young to be a part of the Order. She could tell Harry felt it was a load of rubbish as she did too.

Sebastian jumped into Harry’s lap, prompting Harry to shift to the left side of his seat to make room for the pudgy tabby. Sebastian sat in the empty space of the chair facing the table as if he were trying to join the conversations.

“He doesn’t need to be at the table.” Molly ordered.

“Sorry.” Harry mumbled.

“What is he harming?” Esme questioned.

“We’re trying to eat here.” Molly’s tone was stern.

Sebastian seemed to be offended as he glared at Molly.

“He hasn’t seen Harry in a while. They missed each other.” Fred chimed in.

“Yes, well, we’ve all missed Harry, but he needs to get down.”

Harry carefully picked Sebastian up and placed him on the cold floor. Feeling defeated, he curled up underneath Harry’s chair.

Esme carried on with Ron and Arthur throughout dinner. The conversation in the kitchen was trifling and whimsical until Sirius told Harry it was okay to ask questions. Molly blew up causing Esme to jump slightly.

“He’s too young.”

Esme rolled her eyes as Molly always used the same argument. Sebastian didn’t even want to be a part of it; he ran off to disturb Crookshanks.

Molly started to give in and decided Harry could stay for a bit and learn a minimal amount of information about just what the Order and Lord Voldemort have been doing.

Arthur convinced Molly to let the twins stay and Ron convinced Molly to let him and Hermione stay with, “Harry will tell us anyway.”

“Fine. Ginny, Esme go to your rooms now.”

Esme knew she could do better than Ron. “I don’t have a room. Harry took it. Besides, I was stuck at my house this entire summer because you made me tell my mother about You-Know-Who, so the least you could do is let me stay.” Molly’s face was an unmistakable shade of red. “Let me just add that I spent my summer researching legilimency.”

“Fine. Ginny, bed now.”

Esme regretted staying for the conversation because they weren’t given any information the Extendable Ears didn’t already hear for them.

She went to Ron and Harry’s room to gather her belongings, but found that they were already neatly placed in the hall. She exhaled deeply and turned around to find Arden walking up the steps.

“I can make you a bed.” Arden offered.

“Really?” Esme asked hopefully.

“Yep. Come on.” Arden’s accent, though subtle, was especially discernible in the last two words. She led her downstairs to Ginny and Hermione’s room where Hermione was telling Ginny everything that occurred in the kitchen.

“I’m going to make Esme a bed in here, if that’s okay with y’all.”

“Of course it is,” Ginny said.

With a wave of her wand, Ginny’s bed turned into a bunk bed. The top bunk, with white sheets and a comforter perfectly made, was for Esme.

“Thank you.” Esme smiled.

“Anytime.” Arden returned the smile.

She left the three girls to converse until they heard the creak of the floorboards that meant Molly was coming to check on them. They all dove under their covers and didn’t make a peep until they heard her heading upstairs.

✶✶✶

“Esme, you’re going to help me wash the dishes tonight.” Molly ordered.

Esme looked to Fred and George with pleading eyes, but they laughed and then vanished with a loud crack. She groaned quietly so Molly wouldn’t hear.

Esme stayed silent with every plate she washed. Finally, Molly was concerned as Esme was usually a garrulous young witch.

“Have something on your mind?”

“Hm?” Esme’s mind had trailed off to random things, such as which Ravenclaws would make prefect, which books she would need for this year, who Dumbledore would have hired for Defense Against the Dark Arts which brought her back to Harry not being allowed in the Order of the Phoenix.

Molly repeated herself.

“Oh, um just thinking about things.”

“Such as?”

“Just Hogwarts and stuff.”

“Stuff?”

Esme knew she was going to regret the next thing she said, but she couldn’t not confront her aunt. “Harry deserves to be a member of the Order of—”

“This is not up for discussion.” Molly almost dropped the rag she was holding to give Esme a flinty stare which was ignored. Molly began vehemently scrubbing the dining table.

“You-Know-Who does everything in his power to spite Harry. That’s all he wants: world domination and Harry dead. It’s inhumane to keep him in the dark about it.” Esme continued to scrub a bowl riddled with leftover food particles.

“Esme, I am warning you.” Molly nearly had steam coming from her ears.

“The ‘you’re too young’ excuse is a load of bollocks—”

“ESME JOANNA.” Molly had stopped cleaning altogether.

Esme didn’t flinch and continued, “—and you and I both know it. He’s the best at Defense Against the Dark Arts in our year, besides me of course.” She knew Harry exceeded her talents at the subject but couldn’t pass up the chance to rag on him.

Molly took a deep breath before speaking. “It doesn’t matter how good he is; I have a right to protect him.”

“You don’t have a right to control him and his every move. He’s not your chess piece. He’s not your son.” Esme put the sponge and the bowl into the sink and turned to her aunt.

“Well, I am the closest thing that poor boy has to a mother. I will not continue this conversation with you.”

“He has Arden.”

“Who didn’t take him in after they died.”

Esme rubbed her brow. “—and Sirius—”

“Who was gone for twelve years.”

“Locked away in Azkaban against his will, framed for thirteen murders. And Arden was told by your beloved Dumbledore that she wasn’t allowed to have him because she was a target.”

“That’s not the point.”

“That’s exactly the point. He has both of them now. His parents named Sirius and Arden his godparents because they wanted them looking after him.”

“I’ve been looking after him for five years. I can’t stop now.”

“I’m not saying you have to stop caring for him. He just deserves to know what is happening. You can’t keep that from him.”

“He needs to be protected.”

“How is he to be protected when the Order isn’t around and he knows nothing?”

Molly didn’t have an answer for this and Esme knew she had struck a nerve.

“Enough. I’m done having this conversation.”

“Because you know I’m right. Harry needs to be in the know, so he can be safe.”

“Esme.”

“If you keep him isolated from all of this, not only will he resent you, but he won’t ever be able to handle You-Know-Who.”

“Go to bed.” Molly pointed toward the kitchen door. Esme stayed silent and headed for the door. “Why must you argue me on every little thing?” Molly lowered her voice as Esme was leaving.

A/N:

Sorry this took so long, but the wait is over. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter!

-Ghost

TAGS:

@virgiill @yourfriendly-neighborhoodfuckup

#Draco Malfoy #dracomalfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fic #Draco Malfoy x OC #draco malfoy imagine #Fred and George #fred weasley #george weasley #The Weasley Family #malfoy #the Malfoy family #weasley #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #ginny weasley #Esme Prewett #esme joanna prewett #askesme #ghostwritings #AskGhost #varietywritings #variety writings #solace #Harry Potter #harry potter series #Harry Potter fic #hp #golden trio era #Order of the Phoenix

[zombiesbecrazy]

Every Day Like This One

Summary: Four times Jason Todd had the very best birthday

AO3

Jason didn’t care what the other kids at school said. Pink wasn’t a girl colour and even if it was, it didn’t matter because strawberry was the very best flavour of ice cream.

This was the fancy stuff too. Not the one dollar cone that you could get at McDonald’s or the bucket that they could get at the corner store when it was on sale that was bright neon in colour either. Those were both good, but they weren’t this. No, this was the pale pink that had the chunks of actual strawberries in it and was soft enough to scoop perfectly, and cold enough to maintain its shape for just a little bit longer before starting to melt into a delicious pool of creamy milk at the bottom of the cone.

This was the cone of perfect strawberry ice cream that he and his mom had walked twelve blocks south into another neighbourhood to find. Jason had peered into the display case with wonder, looking at all the flavours to choose from in wonder. If someone didn’t already know their favourite flavour, how could they possibly choose?

He knew it was silly to get excited by something as simple as ice cream, even at nine, but he knew that the grin on his face was enormous when he accepted the cone from the man on the other side of the counter, eyes growing larger as he held it in his hands, waiting for his mom to pay for it. This was a five dollar ice cream and it was all for him. It was even in a sprinkled waffle cone. She got a small strawberry cup for herself as well, nowhere near as big, but still as tasty. She led him to one of the tables in the corner of the small shop and they sat in silence, watching the people walk by outside. He was careful not to let any drips fall from the cone and onto the table, not wanting to let any of it go to waste, and to savour every last drop.

Cones were always a race against time, trying to finish it before it melted from the heat of his hands, but taking the time to enjoy it. Before too long, his hands were empty, sticky from the cone. He turned back to smile at his mom, who surprised him by pushing her small bowl of ice cream across the table at him. She hadn’t eaten any of it. Instead she had stuck a small white candle in it, small flame flickering.

“Happy Birthday, Jason.”

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and blew out the candle.

He wished every day could be like this one.

***

Rich people were weird. Jason had decided this long before he had moved in with Bruce, but living in the manor had solidified it. For weeks Bruce had been asking him what he wanted to do for his birthday. Was there a tradition that he wanted to do? Did he want to go on a trip? Was there any specific presents that he wanted?

When Jason had said that he wanted to camping in the backyard, Bruce had blinked at him for a few seconds in confusion.

“Are you sure you don’t want to camp anywhere more exciting, Jay? We could go to one of the parks.”

“Nope. Backyard is good.”

“We always camp in the backyard. We camped out there last week.”

“I like it,” he said before quickly adding, “Can we make the fancy s’mores?”

“You are turning 15 and the most exciting thing that you want to do is put peanut butter cups on graham crackers and marshmallows in the backyard? The backyard that is on the other side of this wall?”

“Yep.”

“Alright. Backyard camping it is,” laughed Bruce softly. “With the fancy s’mores.”

Growing up in the city, there wasn’t a lot of opportunity to see the stars. Despite being so dark, there were too many lights in Gotham, clouds too low and the stars mostly stayed hidden. Out in Bristol though, the houses were few and far between and the stars were out in abundance. He loved lying on his back, staring up at them on nights when the city was quiet and patrol had been cut short. It was extra nice when his belly was full of fire roasted weenies, s’mores and Alfred’s chocolate gateau.

“Jay.” He lifted his head to look at Bruce, still sitting by the fire, light of the flames reflecting in his eyes. “Present time.”

“I told you I didn’t want anything.”

“And I didn’t get you anything.” He pulled two parcels out of his backpack beside him. “Alfred did. And Dick.” Jason highly doubted that Dick got him a present and assumed the Alfred had forged his name, but the small card on the packaging wasn’t actuallyfor Jason which peaked his interest. It was for Robin, from Nightwing.

Tearing off the wrapping, he turned the gift over in his hands carefully before looking at Bruce. “Nunchucks?” Bruce looked almost as surprised as Jason was. He held out his hand and Jason passed them to him. Bruce turned them over carefully in his hands and examined them closely before handing them back.

“Those look like authentic hand crafted nunchaku.”

“Can you teach me? How to use them properly?”

“I can, but Dick would be a better teacher for those, which may be the point of that gift.” Jason raised an eyebrow and Bruce’s lips quirked up, almost in a smile but not quite. It was the same look Batman got when Robin did something impressive in the field. “I’m competent with them. He is an expert.”

Jason looked down at the sticks again, thoughts whirling around in his brain. What did it mean? “He doesn’t even like me.”

“He doesn’t not like you. He’s angry with me and there is a difference.” This time Bruce did smile, and he reached over to give Jason’s shoulder a light squeeze. “I think this might be a sign that he might like to get to know you better.”

Jason’s hands started to shake the more that he thought about it, and he quickly put the nunchucks to the side and started to unwrap the second gift just to cover up the reaction.

Alfred’s card gave nothing away, simply wishing Jason a happy birthday in perfect cursive. The box was small and flat and when the wrapping was removed it, the box was velvet. Jason opened the box and immediately closed it again, which made Bruce stare at him strangely.  Jason swallowed, and opened the box slower, prepared for what was inside.  

“It’s a pocket watch.” Jason whispered. He had never seen one before he had moved to the manor. Not until he had seen Alfred remove it from the pocket of his waistcoat to check the time and he had been transfixed with the idea. He lifted it out of the box carefully and held it up, engraving catching his eye in the light. “It has my initials on it.”

J.P.T.W

“Looks like we may have a matching pair. Alfred got me one as well when I was 17.” Bruce leaned back to look at the stars. “He said that every proper young man needed a proper watch. It’s a Pennyworth family tradition.”

“I can’t accept this, Bruce. It’s too much.” How could he accept something this extravagant? People like him didn’t have pocket watches. People like him barely had regular watches.

“It’s a gift. Do you really want to try and give it back to Alfred?”

Jason ran his thumb over for cool silver casing, feeling the engraving and committing it to memory. “No.” He placed the watch back into the velvet box, and closed it carefully, before putting it carefully into his bag for safekeeping. Being Robin was one thing. Being included as Wayne was something harder. Jason didn’t know how to process Alfred’s apparently inclusion of him into being a Pennyworth.  

“Hey.” Bruce held out another s’more that he had somehow managed to put a candle in, held in place by an extra marshmallow. How long had Jason been sitting and thinking about the watch if he hadn’t known Bruce was making another fancy s’more. “Happy Birthday, Jaylad.”

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and blew out the candle.

He wished every day could be like this one.

***

This entire situation was fucking insane.

Over his two lifetimes, Jason had seen a lot of things. Done a lot of things; good and bad. Continued to defy the odds and expectations. Not once had he ever imagine this; never in his wildest dreams would he have expected to be in space. And not just Watchtower space.

Space Space. With unknown constellations and planets surrounding him, in a spaceship, trying to outrace a bunch of little green men, none of whom were actually green or little or possibly even men, who were definitely trying to kill them because the three of them had maybe taken something that didn’t legally belong to them.

Jason wasn’t sure if Finder’s Keepers, Loser’s Weepers was a saying on other planets, but they couldn’t exactly stop to ask without their ship being blown to tiny pieces.

To be fair, the Tamaranean crystal Roy had pocketed didn’t technically belong to the Roglodites either, so Jason wasn’t sure why they were so mad about it. It’s not like they were using it for anything anyway, and with Kori on board, they had more of a claim to it.

At least that was the logic he was sticking to.

Any now they found themselves being chased by two larger ships that were firing at them, fortunately with not great aim, but they were being gained on.

“Starfire! Does this ship have a warp drive?” shouted Roy over the alarms that the ship was sounding around them.

“I do not know what you are talking about!”

“Warp drive! You know! To go super-fast and jump to a faraway place where these jerks can’t find us?”

“That is not a real thing, Roy,” snapped Kori, eyes focused on the panels in front of her. “And you should not have stolen the crystal.”

“All sci fi movies have them! Your ship has to have one!” Roy shot back. “And it’s your people’s crystal! It should be with you.”

“You are believing human science fiction entertainment over my knowledge of my own ship and how space travel works?”

“Don’t answer that,” Jason slapped his hand over Roy’s mouth to stop the words in their tracks. “and stop mansplaining how space works to Kori.” His hand was suddenly wet and he pulled it away quickly. “Gross! Did you just lick me?”

“Maybe.”

“Can the two of you stop being children and do something useful?” Kori flipped some switches that seemed to up their speed, but not enough to lose the ships behind them. “Even if warp drives were real, how would they help? If I had a warp drive, they would have a warp drive and we wouldn’t get any farther away. Ridiculous.”

“Would an asteroid field help?” Jason pointed to something on the screen in front of them that they were quickly approaching. “Your ship is smaller than theirs. Maybe we could sneak through where they can’t fit?”

Kori bit her lip as she looked at the monitors. “It may be our only chance.”  The field was large, but the debris looked small and close together. It would be tough even for the most experienced of pilots. Jason was glad he wasn’t the one flying. “Roy, take the back weapons in case any manage to follow and buckle up.”

“We are in space, running from angry aliens. How will buckling up help?” said Roy as he strapped himself, Jason taking the seat next to him and doing the same.

“It will keep you in your chair. Now be quiet!”

It was astounding how quickly things could go from ‘holy crap we are going to die’ to ‘how on earth did we pull that off’ when Kori managed to get them through the field with minimal damage to the ship, and Jason had been right; the other ships were too large to chance following them through and they were in the clear.

“Kori, you are my hero.”

“Was I not already?”

“Yeah, but that solidified you into the top spot for eternity.” Jason slumped back into his chair, closing his eyes as he felt the tension drain from his body. “Thank you for not letting me die again on my birthday.”

“Jason Todd.”

“Yeah?”

“You did not tell us that it was your birthday.” Kori sounded upset that she hadn’t known. Jason felt a little bad because he knew how much she liked to celebrate the people in her life.

“Oh. Well, it is.” He cracked his eyes open a little and smiled at her “I’m 21. Or 20 if you don’t count the year I was dead, but personally I go by year of birth.” He closed his eyes again, and heard Roy shuffling around in the one of the cabinets beneath the consol. He may have drifted off to sleep until he was jerked away by the sound of a cup being put down beside him. Roy had placed a suspicious looking glass beside him, amber liquid reflecting off the lights of the control panel.

“What is that?”

“Whiskey.”

“And why is it on the ship?” He didn’t want to make it sound like an accusation, but as far as he and Kori were aware, there wasn’t any alcohol on the ship.

“Maybe don’t ask too many questions about that today.”

“Roy.”

“Don’t. Not today.” He nudged the glass closer to him. “It’s for you. You’re legal.”

“Very little of what I do is legal.”

“Shut up and have your drink. This too.” Roy placed a chocolate chip cookie in front of him with large wax candle on top, almost double in radius of the cookie.

“No flame?”

“Not in space, dingus,” said Roy, but Kori leaned around him from behind with a lighter and lit the candle. Roy spun around and glared at her. “What? You don’t have a warp drive but you can have open flame? That is ridiculous.”

“Why would there be candles on board if we could not use them?”

“I hate space.”

Jason grinned, laughing at his two best friends arguing about space, after being chased by aliens and totally not dying. “I don’t know. I think it’s pretty cool.”

Two pairs of arms wrapped around him. “Happy Birthday, Jay.”

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and blew out the candle.

He wished every day could be like this one.

***

Except for the summer thunderstorm hammering away outside his apartment, it had been a quiet day and Jason had quite enjoyed having the time for himself. Power had been knocked out on his block, but it was nothing that a few candles around the living room couldn’t fix, as he curled up on his couch with a well worn copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide, two fingers of whiskey on the table beside him and a bowl of strawberry ice cream in his lap, listening to the rain as it pelted against the window.

He was overdressed for what seemed like a relaxing afternoon in, with his deep burgundy waistcoat and Tom Ford suit, but he was killing time before his ride got there to pick him up for what he had been told was charity benefit at the manor, but what in reality was a surprise birthday party that Dick had ‘accidentally-but-on-purpose’ spilled the beans on knowing that Jason didn’t typically react well to having people jump out of him in the dark, no matter how much he cared about the people doing the surprising.

If someone had asked him as a child what his 25th birthday would be like, he wouldn’t have had an answer. It wouldn’t have been a black tie dinner with his friends and family at Bruce Wayne’s house, that was for sure. There had been a time, many times, when he would have thought that seeing 25 would have been impossible, but here he was. Quarter of a century old. He had taken the rocky road to get there, but he couldn’t be happier.

His thoughts were interrupted by a honk down on the street, and Jason double checked the time before sliding the pocket watch back into his waistcoat. He slipped his jacket on, knowing that it was Tim waiting for him, punctual as always. He carefully blew out each of the candles, before picking up his glass and bowl and leaving them in the kitchen sink.

Jason paused beside his front down after putting his shoes on and gazed around his apartment one last time. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and blew out the final candle by his door, leaving his apartment in darkness, only light coming in through the windows.

He wished every day could be like this one.

#Jason Todd #Catherine Todd #Bruce Wayne #Roy Harper #koriand'r #Happy birthday jason todd #Jason deserves only good things so this is all fluff.