#// so if you're going to inherit his memories and feelings and everything; its a very heavy burden even if you can accept all of that

[muraenide]

For lack of a better word, Jade has a repressed depression. It's contributed by many things that were part of his life while growing up, adding to the pile of feelings that were already repressed on top of his heavy heart. One can say it's the worst combination of many little things to form something intangible, immovable, that it's become a part of Jade that can never be undone. It doesn't help that Jade was born unfeeling, he's been that way since he was a child, so it didn't help that he's never really someone who is very outspoken in the first place. About his discomfort or anything that he plays down as being simply a minor inconvenience and therefore didn't matter.

Antonio has given strong implications that he wants Jade to succeed the Leech family ever since Jade was born. While his Father didn't ask him directly to accept the offer, he's been feeding Jade the idea that he was bred to become his next successor. The Leech parents were strict with their rules, ensuring their children won't be too spoiled to handle bigger affairs. Jade always had a bit more self-discipline and self-control compared to Floyd. He sticks to their parent's rules down to the last one, becoming the child they wanted but never the child they had. Part of the reason he places himself in the situation was also due to shielding Floyd from butting heads too often with their Father. Both are equally hot-tempered, reckless, and unwilling to bend or compromise their principles, which, more often, are the exact opposites of each other.

Jade's tendency to repress unpleasant feelings didn't help. If asked whether his family was happy, instead of defining it by "What makes me happy", Jade would define it with "Nothing here makes me unhappy." and therefore tells others that he guessed his family was a happy one. But the truth is, constantly living with someone like Antonio and being a witness to many other fucked up things he saw in the sea, Jade has slowly and surely been reduced to someone who had no real ambitions, desires, or wants. He doesn't think about his past or his future. He prefers to just live in the present and enjoy whatever is in front of him, enjoy the nice little things, the small happiness. He's happy that way, and he's never felt differently.

The only person Jade ever felt the closest to love to was Floyd (and Julliet, his mother, too in earnest, but she is a more complicated character and deserves an entirely different post), but even so, very little of Jade's love for Floyd can be described to be familial or brotherly. Most of them stem from possession and don't get him wrong, he doesn't see Floyd as an item or a belonging. Floyd is his own person and Jade often leaves him to do his own thing, but Jade is absolutely territorial over any news of Floyd upset or hurt. Akin to a pack member getting bullied by an unauthorized outsider. He can't stand it. It makes him ache with fury and that's the most feeling Jade ever experienced. Outside of rp plotting.

It's common for Jade's intentions to be misunderstood. As far as canon goes he's always someone who's seen as having an ultimatum or double-sided intention when deep down Jade's someone who has trouble even thinking of something he wants to ask from a wish. One way of really tickling him the wrong way is by questioning his intentions for Floyd. Any assumptions that he'd genuinely sell Floyd out upsets him, though Jade's own behaviours and actions don't help — he would never correct any misunderstandings about himself, but the truth is Jade chose Floyd as his brother since birth, he'd die for Floyd. If Jade were to truly hate Floyd, he'd have no reason to keep him around for seventeen years. And even if things between them get a little sour sometimes, Jade was not about to discard seventeen years of companionship like it's nothing. Floyd, to him, is less like a brother and more like an intangible presence he's watched growing up since he was a fry. Always close but also out of reach, separated by something invisible. He regards Floyd as a constant in his life, and he always knew that one day they'll go to separate paths, but until that time comes you just want to enjoy what you have in the present.

These territorial feelings can be transferred to anyone he starts to care about in a plot, in a slow but sure fashion. As long as the other party knows that Jade's not really a lover by the definition of the word. That he might act and look human, but by the end of the day he's just a wild animal in human form.

As for Jade, his fate is solidified that he'll go back to the Coral Sea and succeed his Father and run the Leech family's business. While in NRC he doesn't think of anywhere else he wants to go, to him, duty comes first, and everything else is second.

[ladymarycrawley]

Time to leave - Mason Mount

Request: Can you do a Mason imagine where you have a newborn son and his going away for England.

Warning: none, dad! mason at its finest

Tag list: @masonxomount @chelsealover @masterclassbaby

The moment you dreaded the most was about to happen. Again. 

Mason had to go to playing football away for England, meaning he would be away for two weeks. 

This time you weren't alone though since you had your baby boy, Nate Liam Mount, who was there to keep you company while his dad was away. 

He was the most beautiful baby you ever laid eyes on, not because he was your son: he had those little strands of brown, very dark blonde hair paired with those big brown eyes inherited from his father. He was still very small but you could affirm he also had the same facial expressions as his dad, when he smiled in particular. He was your whole world, everything revolved around him.

That night you couldn't sleep properly as it was the first time Mason was leaving you since your son's birth two months ago.

You were scared the the smallest of problems could turn into something bigger and hard to deal with, you got so used to him watching over you the thought you had to do it all alone for two weeks was unbearable.

He kept telling you his sister and his mum could come and help you anytime you needed but you always wanted to sort things out yourself, without weighing on others. Mason would roll his eyes and shake his head saying you were so stubborn and then kiss your forehead. It always went like that.

That morning, at a quarter to six, you were already wide awake. You took in the last moments of peace before the alarm would have gone off: Nate was peacefully sleeping in his crib, laying in the same position as his dad, on his back with his arms folded near his head.

Your glance then set on Mason who looked like an angel fallen straight from heaven. You smiled and placed two kisses: one on his bare chest and a second one on his forehead. Then you left the bedroom to go and prepare something for breakfast.

As you were doing those very simple actions that were now part of your routine, your mind started going through the happiest moments you lived during those two months: from the minute you held Nate in your arms from the first time to when all the family came to see you at the hospital.

You smiled at yourself as your eyes got teary thinking of those memories.

You were so caught in relieving those flashes that when Mason's strong arms wrapped around your waist you jumped, making you jump.

"Mason! For God's sake" You tried to catch a breath, your hand pressed to your chest to feel your sped up heartbeat. 

"Sorry, babe" He giggled, kissing your bare shoulder. "Didn't mean to scare you"

"Have a seat, breakfast is nearly ready"

He nodded and followed your order.

You brought his coffee mug to him, even if he hated drinking it he needed to face the long day ahead of him.

"Thank you" He said in a whisper before you could kiss him.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, sorta…"

You knew Mason was kind of nervous too at the thought of leaving two of the people he cared for the most.

You went back to the kitchen to take your own mug to go and have a seat next to him.

Mason glanced at the scan of your baby boy hanging on the door of your fridge. He smiled smugly, still in disbelief that the creature inside of you which was as big as an avocado was finally there with you, in flesh-and-blood.

When you caught your boyfriend looking at that picture you couldn't help but think back to when you did your first scan...

You were so nervous because it was the first time you'd have seen your baby. Mason took a day off to be there with you as he promised you he would've been there through all the most important steps of your pregnancy.

You're really scared something might have gone wrong, the ob might have given you some unpleasant news…Needless to say you didn't get any sleep the night before the scheduled meeting.

When you got there,you registered your name to the secretary at the desk and she told you the doctor would have called you in a while. You came back to the little sofa where Mason was seated, waiting for you.

You took a seat and kept playing with corners of the papers you had to show the ob.

Without saying anything, he squeezed your hand in his, looking at you with a loving smile.

"I'm here. Everything will be okay"

You huffed, laying your head on his shoulder. 

"What if something goes wrong?"

"The baby will be beautiful and healthy, nothing to worry about"

Mason entered the ob’s office with you and held your hand in his throughout the whole visit, squeezing it a little bit harder when she showed you your baby for the first time...

"It feels like yesterday, isn't it?"

"Yeah" He chuckled "And he's already 2 months old"

You walked towards him, hugging him from behind. Your lips placed a soft kiss at the back of his shoulder as your head nestled in the crook of his neck, that fitted like a puzzle piece.

"It wouldn't have been the same without you"

"I don't wanna leave him, nor you"

"We'd like you to stay here with us too but you have to go"

Mason kissed your fingertips, moving his glance to the left, to the picture taken the night you announced his family you were waiting for a baby boy...

Jaz and his mum organized this dinner in this very cute restaurant in London just for you to tell them the great news.

You were wearing a light, flowery, short sleeved summer dress that highlighted your baby bump. 

Mason couldn't stop looking at you, you were literally glowing. He kept his hand on your thigh the whole time, as a way to calm you and give you strength but also because he couldn't keep his hands away from you.

He was there looking so hot too with his emerald green, short sleeved shirt, over the white ribbed tank top and paired with a pair of black trousers.

"You look so hot, baby daddy" You whispered in his ear, making him blush.

"You don't look bad yourself, baby mummy" He brushed his lips against your cheek. "Or do you prefer babygirl?" He teased you, leaving a peck between your nape and your neck.

"Hey lovebirds, can you wait till you're alone in your room?"

"Stop it Lewis, you're just jealous" Mason stuck his tongue out towards his older brother, making you giggle.

The dinner went along smoothly, his family asking you about your pregnancy, your work and Summer playing with you and her favourite uncle.

"So Y/N, tell us: will we welcome another lady or a boy?"

"Okay, let's bet people! Who says boy and who says girl?" You both laughed at Lewis' eagerness. Mason caressing the side of your belly with his hand.

"The time has come, we'll see who won: is it a boy or a girl?"

"It's…a boy!!" You and your boyfriend announced it at the same time, making everyone squeal in excitement. 

"I only hope my nephew doesn't have his dad's nose…"

"Yeah, I hope it too" You laughed, teasing Mason as he grinned and got his mouth closer to your ear so only you could hear what he was about to say "But you don't complain when you have this nose between your legs"

You widened your eyes and blushed, hiding your face in his neck.

"Well, my body will get uglier day by day so I won't experience that for a long time" That quick mood change clashed with the joyful one of the people around you.

"Hey" He made you tilt your head up, pressing his forefinger and thumb to your chin. "You'll always be the most beautiful woman in the world and I'm crazy about your body" Mason kissed your lips so softly you weren't even sure it was him who did it or if it was just the summer breeze tickling you. Then he silently shifted his lips upwards, making them linger on your temple, under the proud and emotional stare of his mother.

"We had so much fun that night"

"Yeah…plus you looked so hot in that dress with your baby bump on show"

You blushed as he intertwined his hand in yours, bringing your fingers to his mouth to leave more kisses on your skin.

"You will come back soon, will you?"

"Very soon, two weeks will pass by so fast you won't even notice" Funny how the situation shifted, as Mason became the one comforting you when a few minutes earlier you were the one encouraging him to go.

Your cuddles were halted by your son’s cry. “I”ll go”

He smiled as he stood up to go and check on his baby boy. Mason came back soon after with Nate in his arms.

“Hey baby!” You smiled, holding out your arms to take him. You soon kissed his head, stroking his soft skin.

Mason smiled looking at you and took a picture of that perfect time he would've looked at the whole time while being away.

The three of you stood there for a little while before Mason called it quits.

"I really have to go now or I'll be late"

He kissed your heads one last time before going upstairs to get ready to leave.

You pouted, your lips still pressed to your son's temple.

"Shall we go and see daddy?"

He looked at you with his big brown eyes, fiddling with his tiny fingers in his mouth.

You caught a glimpse of Mason’s back before he covered it once again with his England jersey.

"Can't wait for him to be able to go to the stadium and watch you playing"

Your boyfriend smiled, getting closer to you.

"I can't wait either" He pressed his hands on your hips. Then he closed his eyes to press a kiss to your forehead before doing the same to Nate's head.

"I'll call you as soon as I get to St George's"

You nodded and watched him as he jogged downstairs, sighing as you were getting mentally ready to say him goodbye. 

"Don't forget to call mum or Jaz, okay? For anything" His voice underlined the last part of the sentence, knowing your reluctance in asking for help sometime.

"Don't worry, I'll do that"

Mason lowered himself a bit to look at his boy in your arms.

"We're strong baby, aren't we? We'll see dada in two weeks"

"Yeah baby, I know you're the strongest" He closed his eyes and let his lips linger on his forehead "Keep an eye on mummy"

He then got back to your height so he could look at you in the eyes. You leant forward to kiss him properly when you noted something changed in his eyes.

"Will he still recognise me??" Mason abruptly asked, panicking. 

"I'm sure he will, Mase" You  couldn't help but giggle. You smiled to him in a reassuring way, wrapping your left arm around his neck so you could pull him closer, your foreheads touching. "How could he forget about the best dad in the world?"

You both smiled as Nate looked at you and started babbling.

"See? He agrees with me"

Mason gave you both a final kiss, before taking his backpack and going away, as you could lip read one last "I love you" on his lips as he drove past your driveway.

[angrylizardjacket]

it's in the blood // this is tradition

Summary: Children inherit all sorts of traits from their parents. Not all these traits are good.

"My reputation preceded me before I was born."

[ charlotte & lola au ]

A/N: 2292 words. Halsey's new album killed me on the spot. i talk a lot about the next gen being mirrors of their parents, but i'd like to go into detail about that not necessarily being a positive. @misscharlottelee this made me feel things. i love these kids.

Warnings: overdose mention, addiction discussion, mentions of drug abuse.

Penelope Dingley-Lee

Tommy can count the amount of times he'd seen Razzle truly angry on one hand, and here and now he can see it again, written all over his neice's face. He'd thought she would look like Charlie when she's angry, and occasionally she does, the way her lip curls derisively, dismissively, that's very reminiscent of his cousin, but here and now, her blue eyes are hazy, cloudy, and her lips twist with an irate arrogance that is worryingly familiar.

Angry and high and wearing clothes that don't quite match, in this moment she's exactly her father's daughter.

She's been in the papers again. Her tits have been in magazines again. Tommy bites down on his instinctual desire to repremand her; she'd call him a hypocrite, call him an old man, tell him to keep his opinions to himself while she could still buy his sex tape out of a shady car boot down the street.

Charlie was like that too, on occasion, wit too quick for him to keep up with. When she got into a mood like this, Tommy didn't have to worry so much; usually Razzle would egg her on, but knew when to pull her back.

"It's my god given, motherfucking right to go feral -" he'd heard Charlie back in the eighties holler at three in the morning, high on amphetamines and waving a gossip rag above her head. Razzle would be on the sofa, equally fucked up, but gazing at her like she hung the stars in the sky.

"Lola gets photographed at least once a month stark naked along the strip like it's a sport, why is my Playboy shoot a national crisis?! My tits are fantastic!"

"They are, my love," Razzle nods seriously, and Tommy pulls his pillow from beneath his head, trying to either block out their voices through the thin walls, or maybe smother himself. The girl beside him, the groupie whose name he doesn't know, asks blearily why there's so much yelling. Tommy doesn't answer.

A week later, Tommy is the one to bail out Charlie and Razzle for public indecency, and they're both beaming from ear to ear.

Here in the present, Penny is draped out on the sofa, laughing low and pleased as she watches TV.

"TMZ blurred out my tits," she snorts, "cowards."

"Penny..." he can't help the faintly disappointed notes in his voice when he says her name.

"Thomas, I've read The Dirt," Penny fires back venemously. Hypocrite he hears in her tone, you have no power over me.

There's something hollow in her eyes in the photos he sees of her in the papers. She wears her father's inflluence and her heart on her crushed velvet sleeve, on the arm of a shallow, pretty, band boy who plays badly and loudly. But she laughs louder, though tthe sound is low and unconvincing if anyone bothered to listen hard enough, and Tommy wonders if he has enough dark hair dye left for when that boy breaks her heart.

Jupiter Lee

Tommy is proud to watch Jupiter on stage, but he is afraid.

Their anger is something he remembers from Lola, the way they cling to the past with vitriol echoes their mother, but on stage, they drink up the attention, get high off the love the audience gives, and he sees himself in those moments.

A child of addicts, Jupiter had drawn lines in the sand for themselves that they refused to cross; no alcohol, no drugs, and they'd stayed loyal to that. But highs come in all forms; they simply picked a different kind of poison without realising.

On stage, halfway between the gutter and a god complex, Tommy knows the smile they wear all too well.

Rebellion from Jupiter didn't shock the world like it did when it was Penny's name in the papers. Jupiter's trajectory was spot on in the eyes of the public, but rebellion wouldn't be the thing that broke them.

Once, so long ago that it's a miracle the memory survived, Tommy remembers asking Lola what she would be doing if she wasn't with the band. Lola gave him an easy, bleary smile, laughing sweetly when she told him that one way or another, she'd be here. In the moment it overwhelms him with love. In hindsight it breaks his heart.

"Come on, I think this is inevitable," Jupiter smiles on television as an interviewer asks them the same question; if they weren't making music what they'd be doing, "as if I'd do anything other than this."

'Don't you know where I come from?' is left unspoken, but Tommy still hears it.

He tries to picture himself in a life without the world at his feet the way he has now. No image comes to mind. Nothing else makes sense. Even if he wanted to do something else, wanted to grow up to be something else, he couldn't even begin to picture it for himself, tragedy and all.

They play their parts. They let history repeat itself. Jupiter makes mistakes Tommy and Lola had already learned from. Penny plays Jupiter's conciousness until the role grates on her nerves, diving head first into chaos, taking Jupiter with her with little convincing.

Tommy remembers this too.

When the world looks at Penny and Jupiter, they like to remember how Lola was seen as a bad influence on Charlotte, but forget that Tommy would have followed Charlotte in to Hell without hesitation.

Leo "Seo" Sixx

Lola has google alerts set up for her son, Seo, because he disappears for months without warning. Tommy asks how he is, and Lola looks to her phone with a tight smile, telling him that he's competeing in a skateboarding competition in Prague. She learned that from Twitter.

Seo comes and goes without warning, and talks to his siblings more than his parents. He loves them, but he hasn't allowed himself to stop for years. He doesn't know how. Then again, neither did Lola or Nikki.

"Jupiter thinks a lot about legacy, don't they?" He's in Tommy's kitchen, eating a poptart, when Tommy returns home one friday evening. He's waiting for Penny and Jupiter to finish getting ready, the three of them going out.

"Do your parents know you're in town?" Tommy asks with faint amusement, though there's a twinge of guilt in his gut when Leo considers that he should probably let them know. Says he forgot. Tommy's not sure if he believes him; like his parents before him, he tends to leave a lot unsaid. It's part of his charm, the world seems to think, but Tommy knows all to well how deliberate of an act it can be.

"Jup's got all this stuff in their head about legacy and who they should be," he continues his earlier thought, "which I guess makes sense, they tie a lot of themselves up in their identity," he shrugs, then, "I don't know Leo."

Tommy's not sure if he's talking about the grandfather he's named after, or himself.

"You've given this a lot of thought," Tommy says quietly, humouring him.

"I think a lot," Seo responds, "I've been thinking about going back on my meds, its weird being off of them." Of course this concerns Tommy, who knows objectively that Seo isn't his kid, but he's close enough that Tommy feels like he's allowed to be concerned. "I'm worried a doctor's note isn't going to be enough to let me compete at the Olympics on speed," falls too casually from Seo's lips, alarming Tommy in an instant. Though it must clearly show on his face, as Seo breaks out into an apologetic grin, "dextroamphetamine, for my ADHD. I've been trying to wean off it for the Olympics, it's been hard -" but his next words, said so blithe, so casual, have Tommy's heart stopping in his chest as he's thrown back thirty years, "I've been on them since I was like eleven years old; it was great, I could think, like the right amount, but now I... I think everything. I feel everything. Its a lot." He shrugs, like he didn't just become an echo of his father.

Seo's parents both died twice from overdoses, and now their son feels like he can't function without amphetamines.

Objectively Tommy knows that they work for Seo, that he's not abusing them he simply uses them to help him function, but the irony is not lost on him. It's a lot to unpack. He doesn't think to ask about the Olympics; it slips his mind until he sees Seo and a silver medal on his Twitter feed.

Lola calls Tommy in tears. She's proud, but she wishes she'd known, wishes she'd been able to watch it live, or go over and support him in person.

No-one in Seo's life seems to fully know or understand his intentions or actions, no-one can predict his next move. He puts up a bright facade, but like his parents before him, he does not trust the world to know him.

They don't know where he goes in the few months after the Olympics, all they know is that he doesn't come home.

Cerie "CerieThree" Sixx

Since she'd turned sixteen, Tommy has never seen Cerie Sixx without a smile. That is a very deliberate choice that she's made.

She's made a choice to rise above the percieved grime of her origins. She's halfway across the country, smiling for a camera she can control, editing her image before she lets it out into the world. Cerie Three - even the name the world knows reflects this; she's picked apart the context she was born into, disecting it, deciding which was useful to show the world, disposing of the rest.

She speaks warmly to her family, from what Tommy can gather, but the people on the peripheries of their life seem more like associates in the coldest sense of the world. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes half the time when she sees Tommy, and she shakes his hand when her brothers will hug him. The internet is closer to her than he is.

Cerie looks the most like her mother of all her siblings; she's 21, the exact same age Lola was when she met Tommy, but half the time he can barely see the resemblence. Lola had let the world see a villain at that age; Cerie had learned from that, had rejected that, rejected the cold, hard humanity of her mother's fronting. Cerie wanted to be perfect. Cerie had to be perfect, hyper aware of her own image, like her siblings seem to be, but the way she'd so effectively shaped her public identity was kind of terrifying.

Perhaps this was what it was like for people who didn't know Lola, only allowed to know the image she put out into the world, or people who only knew Nikki for his stage presence.

But the more Tommy thinks about it, the more he remembers just how effectively Lola had wrapped the band around her little finger when she set her mind to it, how she talked her way around exectives despite being dressed like she'd woken up in the gutter and fucked up on any number of drugs. Lola understood people, and it seemed Cerie did too.

Cerie Sixx, twenty one, doesn't stop creating content, doesn't stop studying, and doesn't stop smiling. Two of those three things are inhereted traits, inhereted determination, and the third is a choice.

Cyrus Sixx

Though Cyrus had inhereted much of his parent's musical talent, the same way Jupiter had, Cyrus had also inhereted a love of the high life. Even so, he's so full of love, kissing his mother on both cheeks before he goes out to get shitfaced in the bars she was decades before he was even born.

He works hard, at his job, on his music, but his partying matches it just as well. He knows exactly how far he has to fall before he meets the depths his parents' had sunk to, and though he doesn't voice this, his arrogance comes across in his actions.

There'd always be someone to pull him away from swan diving to rock bottom. He takes that for granted, and keeps getting closer and closer.

The only one of Nikki and Lola's children who still lives at home, he's the only one like them in the way they'd feared.

"He's going to have more success than he will ever be able to comprehend," Nikki had told Tommy, the day after Cyrus had been admitted to hospital after staying up for four days while high and obsessing over a song he had been working on. Nikki had found him having a fit after having fallen from his desk chair. Now, sitting on Tommy's patio in the sunset, he looks tired, he looks afraid, "if he doesn't end up killing himself first."

A month ago, the fire department and the police had to pull him, kicking and screaming and bareass naked from a tree in the middle of town. His parents had bailed him out, had felt a familiar sting of guilt as they find themselves reminded of their own youthful exploits. They repremand him, of course, but they both know the only reason they stopped climbing trees was because there had been no-one to pick them up after.

Nikki sees himself in his sons mistakes, but he'd had to learn concequences the hard way.

Tommy loves his family and all it's strange branches, as well as their raucous youth, but his closest friends were some of the most volatile people he'd known, and somehow he'd forgotten that as time as taken people and memories from him.

But these children were made in their image.

[spidernerdsblog]

Seven

A/N : Inspired by Taylor Swift’s song Seven from the album folklore. This can be read as a standalone as well as a continuation of the Homecoming fic.

Pairing : Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Summary : The first time you and Peter met each other but destiny pulled you apart.

Warnings : none just soft feel good vibes.

"Oh Peter! You're a lifesaver." You exclaimed.

"Thank you so much for letting me copy your chemistry assignment." You breezed into his room dropping your backpack on his bed.

"You should not keep things for last minute Y/N." Peter advises.

"Now you also don't start." You huff as Peter arched his brows shaking his head.

"I know, I know I shouldn't but with this whole hydra base infiltration mission it completely slipped out of my mind."

"Plus organic chemistry is not my cup of tea." You shrugged.

"Says the literal beauty with brains Y/N Stark that's quite hard to swallow." He looked at you skeptically.

"Oh now you think I'm beautiful huh?" You raised a sly brow smirking.

"Umm no - I mean yeah - not like the way you're thinking." He stuttered.

"Relax I was just messing with you." You chuckled.

"But believe me I hate that subject. What will I do if benzene has a constant problem with its electrons?" You complained dramatically.

"It's not that hard as you think, you just need to practice the structures daily." Peter began his lecture on organic chemistry.

"And once you understand the reaction mechanism it will be a piece of cake. Like for example during oxidation reaction.." You cut him off, unable to bear anymore of Prof Parker's lecture on organic chemistry.

"It's boring! Boring! Peter I'm giving you a boring alert!" You exclaimed.

"And If I had to learn about organic chemistry why would I come to you for help I would have straight away gone to uncle Bruce only."

"Okay sorry I just got carried away you know…"

"Yeah I know it’s your favourite subject which helped you make your web fluid blah,blah, blah but I don't have time for that right now so tell me where is your file?" You scrambled on his desk.

"I need to copy it fast!" Peter arched his brow questioningly at you. You gave your signature Stark eye roll that you obviously inherited from your dad.

"I mean take notes and write it down on my own." You clarified.

"In the right drawer of my desk."

"Okay I'll take it. You can now go for your patrolling or whatever spidermaning stuff you do." You waved your hand shooing him away.

You went near his desk and opened the drawer and rummaged around the things in it. You finally found the file and took it out when something caught your eye beneath it. You brushed away the junk stuff on it to find a cute little pink bow most probably it belonged to some little girl because it was quite old and dirty. You took your time to admire it and then turned to Peter who was about to change into his suit.

"Peter, why do you have this pink bow in your drawer?" His eyes went wide darting towards you.

"Give that to me!" He snatched it away from your hand.

"Hey!" You protested. Peter turned around clutching on to the bow.

"Whose is it Peter?" You nudged him.

"No-no one’s." He fumbled

"C'mon tell me about this special girl whose bow you have kept all these years, and we are best friends right? Best friends don't keep secrets. " You made a pouty face.

"It's actually a long time ago nothing interesting to tell Y/N." You went and sat on his bed resting your elbows on your knees and placing your chin on your knuckles. You blinked your eyes giving him your undivided attention. He understood that you wouldn't budge and shook his head in defeat smiling sitting beside you.

"I met this girl once at this park, Aunt May used to take me every afternoon to play. I was around seven that time so was she. She was like a ray of sunshine but the only thing was that her life was covered by dark gloomy clouds." Peter narrated you the story of this mysterious girl from his childhood.

Peter was a socially awkward kid since childhood so he never had that many friends. It was a lovely day Peter was strolling in the park on his own.He heard some noise it seemed as if someone was crying and it came from behind the tree. He walked around to find a girl sitting under the tree crying and went near her.

"Why are you crying?"

She didn't say a word and just looked at him teary eyed. Peter kneeled in front of her.

"Are you lost? I can call my aunt, she can help you.'' Peter asked her sweetly.

"No." she replied weakly.

"Then why are you crying?" fresh tears rolled down her cheeks again.

"Please don't cry." He wiped her tears with his small hands.

"I'm Peter. What is your name?"

"I can't say. Daddy will not like it."

"Okay." he tried to keep the conversation going.

"You come here everyday?"

"Yes. This is my playtime but I don't have anyone to play with."

"I can play with you." She smiled in return.

"What do you wanna play?"

"I don't know, you say." he was about to suggest something when a middle aged lady appeared from behind, most probably her nanny.

"It's time to go home, miss." she informed. And the little girl silently got up and held her hand as the lady took her back to the car parked in front of the park.

"Peter!" May called out as Peter looked back.

"There you are, I was looking for you everywhere." May said as she followed Peter’s gaze.

"Who's she?"

"My new friend, she was very sad as she doesn't have anyone to play with."

"Aww poor girl."

"I said I'll play with her."

"That's so nice of you Peter, you are such a good boy." May ruffled his hair.

Next day Peter was excited to go to the park to meet his new friend. She was sitting under the exact same tree like yesterday he went and sat beside her talking with her for hours. She finally started to open up to him. Both of them now always eager for afternoons a slight escape from their lonely lives. As they enjoyed each other's company laughing and running around the playground.

"Hi"

Her eyes sparkled seeing Peter as if she was waiting for him.

"Hi Petey!'' she exclaimed with joy.

"Can I know your name now?"

"I told you I can't Petey."

"Then what do I call you?"

"Whatever you want." She shrugged.

"Okay let me think." Peter frowned thinking hard when suddenly his eyes twinkled.

"How about Betty?" He asked, all excited.

"I like Betty." She smiled softly. He sat beside you as you talked about your day.

"Today aunt May took me to the cemetery to offer flowers to my mom and dad. I really miss them you know. You're so lucky that you have both your parents"

"My daddy doesn't love me." She sniffles.

"Why is that so?"

"He is always mad at me. He doesn’t like me."

"Hey don't be sad I will always love you to the moon and to saturn."

"When I collect enough pocket money we will move to India okay? I read in a book that it's a beautiful place."

"You pack your dolls and sweaters and I'll pack my Legos. Just you and me. You will never be sad again"

"Okay Petey." she gave a wide smile.

…….

"Hi Betty"

"Hi Peter!"

"I brought you something Betty."

"What Peter?" He handed her a yellow rose.

"May says yellow rose means friendship. And this will always remind you of our everlasting friendship, of me. "

"But I didn't bring anything for you Petey." she pouted sadly.

"It's okay Betty." Something went through her mind.

"Wait!" she pulled one of her pink bows from her braids and handed it to Peter.

"Here take this. This will always remind you of me."

A black Mercedes pulled over near the gate of the park. Betty's eyes went to the car and Peter noticed her body stiffen as soon as she saw a black suited man in black sunglasses step out of the car. He was most probably her bodyguard.

"Hey what's wrong?"

"I need to go. Bye Peter!" She hastily got up from the ground and ran away towards the car. The man opened the door for her. She glanced at Peter as she got inside the car. Peter stood there at his place as he raised his hand to wave her goodbye she waved back too. The black glass windows rolled up blocking them from each other's sight.

"And then she left and never came back. I never got to see her again." Peter exhaled.

"Everyday I went to the park in the hope that I’ll get to see her again but she was gone." Peter took a deep breath sighing fiddling with the bow in his hand.

"I don't know where she is now but I hope she is happy in her life. And all her issues with her dad have been resolved."

"Yup indeed they have got resolved and they are in better terms now." You chuckled lowly as your heart felt heavy.

"Yeah hope so."

"I'm sorry." You murmured.

"Why are you sorry?"

"I'm sorry I didn't come to say goodbye to you."

"What? What do you mean?" Peter asked, confused.

"That bow is mine Peter." You said softly gazing at the bow in Peter’s hand. Peter went silent as a sudden realization dawned upon him his eyes went wide. How could he forget the most important thing about that day, the man who had come to pick up Betty was none other than Happy. That means you're Betty, his Betty.

"You know after all the feud between Stane and my dad. Dad didn't want me to stay in such a dangerous environment and decided to send me to a boarding school."

"The day I was being sent away I cried, begged him to let me to go and see you for one last time but he didn't let me. And I'm sorry Peter that I left like that."

You turned to grab your backpack and took out your diary from it. You opened a significant page of your diary and delicately took out a dried yellow rose.

"I kept this too in your memory." You hold it out in front of him. You both were trying to fight back your tears but finally broke down as tears trickled down your cheeks. Those weren't sad tears, those were tears of joy. Of finally meeting your long lost friend.

Peter couldn't believe that the always sad and scared girl he knew has grown up to be such a fearless, intelligent girl who speaks her mind without giving a damn what others think of her.

When you saw the bow in his drawer you instantly remembered everything that is why you nagged him on telling you the whole story. You wondered how can you both be so oblivious about the fact that you have known each other for years. How couldn't you recognize each other even when you promised each other to remember for lifetime. Maybe you were destined to cross paths and then forget each other to be reunited again for some reason which none of you understand.

"I missed you Betty." Peter sniffled, smiling.

"I missed you too Petey." You held his hand brushing your thumb on the top of his hand resting your head on his shoulder. You remained like that for a while cherishing the moment. Peter silently listened to your slow and steady heartbeat smiling with content.

"You still wanna go to India?" You looked up at him smiling.

"I have got a private jet now." You gave a half shrug, the corner of Peter’s eyes crinkled as he laughed softly.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXLI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: That’s right PoA gifs are making a comeback -Danny

Words: 3,121

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Three: A Brief Talk.

Mel was packing up the stuff she'd taken to the mission when someone knocked on the front door. 

She heard Erick said he'd get it a second later. Mel put everything in her bag and hung it over her shoulder, rushing out of her room. Dumbledore stared at them with a smile.

"I must say you worked faster than expected."

"We did our best — Oh!" Erick went to the living room and grabbed his bag, drawing out the men's wands. "These are from the death eaters — maybe you'll be able to track them down?"

"I could, if Ollivander hadn't gone missing," Dumbledore said sadly. Mel didn't ask about it, she wasn't ready for any more bad news. "Anything I should know?"

"Yeah," Mel approached. "I'm upset."

Dumbledore gazed at her quietly.

"I said I'd tell you everything and I will, but you must wait a bit longer. We'll visit Harry's house tonight, and pay a visit to Slughorn."

"You said we couldn't talk to him."

"This time will be different. This time I'll go with you."

"How wonderful," Mel said sarcastically.

"I'll get my stuff," Erick gave her a look that was meant to stop her rudeness.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded, "do close the door on your way out, Mr Flint."

She followed him out in silence, her uncle approached the entrance of the Dursley's house and knocked on it.

"Were you in danger?"

"No."  

"Then you know I didn't lie."

"You didn't tell us everything," She replied. "You keep withholding information and I'm not some disposable thing you can use as you please —"

"That was never my intention," Dumbledore interrupted. "By the end of the year you'll know all, and you'll understand why I've acted this way."

Mel seriously doubted that but she'd been proven wrong before, she was willing to hear his side of the story.

Mr Dursley complained all the way to the door, he opened it abruptly, freezing at the sight.

"Good evening. You must be Mr Dursley. I daresay Harry has told you I would be coming for him?"

Harry rushed down the stairs and stopped at a considerable distance from his uncle. He looked torn between amusement and panic, holding a pair of trainers in one hand and a telescope in the other.

The young witch eyed Mr Dursley up and down and held back a smirk. He was wearing a reddish dressing-gown. The last time she'd been standing this close to the man he'd looked gigantic, now he was barely able to reach her nose.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you that we were coming," Dumbledore said happily. "However, let us assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times. It is a long time since my last visit, I must say, your agapanthus are flourishing. What do you think, Mel?"

"Oh, it's been years," Her voice trembled with contained laughter. "The house looks exactly as I remember, though. Is your chimney still the same after the Weasleys burst through it?"

Harry snorted at this, and this caught the old man's attention.

"Ah, good evening Harry... Excellent, excellent."

"I don't mean to be rude —" Mr Dursley spoke.

"— yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often. Best to say nothing at all, my dear man. Ah, and this must be Petunia— Albus Dumbledore, we have corresponded, of course. And this must be your son, Dudley?"

Mel looked at the boy, it had been almost two years since she'd last seen him: He was muscly big, with the body of a trained wrestler. She didn't like that he'd be able to kill a child with his bare hands and call it a sport.

"Shall we assume that you have invited us into your sitting room?

Dumbledore crossed the hall and she followed, Harry jumped the last steps and approached them.

"Aren't — aren't we leaving?" He inquired.

"Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we need to discuss first. And I would prefer not to do so in the open. We shall trespass upon your aunt and uncle's hospitality only a little longer."

"You will, will you?" The Dursleys were all glaring at them.

"Yes, I shall."

He drew his wand so rapidly that Harry barely saw it; with a casual flick, the sofa zoomed forward and knocked the knees out from under all three of the Dursleys so that they collapsed upon it in a heap. Another flick of the wand and the sofa zoomed back to its original position.

"We may as well be comfortable."

"Sir," Harry started anxiously. "What happened to your — ?"

"Later, Harry. Please sit down."

The boy looked at her searching for an answer, but she had none. It was her first time seeing Dumbledore's injury as well. She walked up to the armchair and stood next to where her uncle had seated. Harry sat in front of them.

"I would assume that you were going to offer me refreshment, but the evidence so far suggests that that would be optimistic to the point of foolishness."

A third twitch of the wand, and a dusty bottle and five glasses appeared in midair. The bottle tipped and poured a generous measure of honey-coloured liquid into each of the glasses, which then floated to each person in the room.

"Madam Rosmerta's finest oak-matured mead," said Dumbledore.

Mel took her glass and inhaled the sweet scent before drinking it, hiding her grin. She was starting to feel less annoyed now that Dumbledore was torturing the Dursleys with his displays of magic.

"Well, a difficulty has arisen which I hope you will be able to solve for us. By us, I mean the Order of the Phoenix. But first of all, I must tell you, kids, that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago."

"Oh. Right..." Harry muttered.

"This is, in the main, fairly straightforward. You add a reasonable amount of gold to your account at Gringotts, and you inherit a few of Sirius's personal possessions. Emily knows this of course, but Sirius left the other half of his gold to you and your brother, Mel. As well as the rest of his belongings, which you'll be able to use once you're of age."

It was obvious Leon was going to inherit stuff from Sirius, the man was eager to provide for his new family, he wanted to be there, make sure his son would never be left to his luck.

"The slightly problematic part of the legacy —"

"His godfather's dead?" Mr Dursley interrupted. "He's dead? His godfather?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore without further explanation. "Our problem is that Sirius also left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place. To the three of you."

"He's been left a house?" Mr Dursley questioned.

"He's not done talking," Mel snapped, Mr Dursley turned purple at her statement.

"You can keep using it as headquarters," said Harry. "I don't care. You can have it, I don't really want it."

"Me neither," Mel accepted. "I don't need it, nor I think my brother will want to use it once he's old enough."

"Brother?" Mrs Dursley asked in bewilderment.

"That is generous," said Dumbledore. "We have, however, vacated the building temporarily."

"Why?"

"Well, Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of 'Black.' Your brother should be the one to take it, but we can't be sure if the rules apply since Emily and Sirius decided to use her last name. While Sirius' will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pureblood."

"I bet there has," Harry lamented.

"Quite. And if such an enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Harry stood up in distress.

"No..."

"Well, obviously we would prefer that she didn't get it either. The situation is fraught with complications. We do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon it, for example, making it Unplottable, will hold now that ownership has passed from Sirius's hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any moment. Naturally, we had to move out until such time as we have clarified the position."

"But how are you going to find out if we're allowed to own it?"

"Fortunately, there is a simple test."

"Will you get these ruddy things off us?" Mr Dursley yelled.

Harry looked around; all three of the Dursleys were cowering with their arms over their heads as their glasses bounced up and down on their skulls, their contents flying everywhere.

"Oh, I'm so sorry... But it would have been better manners to drink it, you know."

Mel left her glass on the coffee table and waited.

"You see," Dumbledore continued, "if you have indeed inherited the house, you have also inherited..."

There was a loud crack, and a house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat's ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the Dursleys' shag carpet and covered in grimy rags.  Aunt Petunia let out a hair-raising shriek; nothing this filthy had entered her house in living memory.

"Kreacher," said Dumbledore.

"Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't! Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix, oh yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress, Kreacher won't go to the brats and the Black bastard! Kreacher won't, won't, won't —"

"As you can see," said Dumbledore over the yelling, "Kreacher is showing a certain reluctance to pass into your ownership."

"I don't care," said Harry with repulsion. "I don't want him."

"Won't, won't, won't, won't —"

"You would prefer him to pass into the ownership of Bellatrix Lestrange? Bearing in mind that he has lived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for the past year?"

"Won't, won't, won't, won't —"

"No," Mel replied, "we need him far from them."

"Give him an order," said Dumbledore. "If he has passed into your ownership, he will have to obey. If not, then we shall have to think of some other means of keeping him from his rightful mistress."

"Won't, won't, won't, WON'T !"

"Kreacher, shut up!" Harry demanded.

It looked for a moment as though Kreacher was going to choke. He grabbed his throat, his mouth still working furiously, his eyes bulging. After a few seconds of frantic gulping, he threw himself face forward onto the carpet (Aunt Petunia whimpered) and beat the floor with his hands and feet, giving himself over to a violent, but entirely silent, tantrum.

"Well, that simplifies matters," said Dumbledore brightly. "It seems that Sirius knew what he was doing. You three are the rightful owners of number twelve, Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher."

"Wonderful, I own a haunted mansion," Mel sat heavily on the armrest of Dumbledore's chair.

"Do we have to keep him with us?" Harry asked.

"Not if you don't want to. If I might make a suggestion, you could send him to Hogwarts to work in the kitchen there. In that way, the other house-elves could keep an eye on him."

"Yeah," said Harry, "yeah, let's do that. Er — Kreacher — I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens there with the other house-elves."

"You're not allowed to leave your duties unless we ask you otherwise," Mel added.

Kreacher, who was now lying flat on his back with his arms and legs in the air, gave Harry one upside-down look of deepest loathing and, with another loud crack, vanished.

"Good. There is also the matter of the hippogriff, Buckbeak. Hagrid has been looking after him since Sirius died, but Buckbeak is yours now, so if you would prefer to make different arrangements —"

"No," said both of them, then Harry added, "He can stay with Hagrid. I think Buckbeak would prefer that."

"Hagrid will be delighted. He was thrilled to see Buckbeak again. Incidentally, we have decided, in the interests of Buckbeak's safety, to rechristen him 'Witherwings' for the time being, though I doubt that the Ministry would ever guess he is the hippogriff they once sentenced to death. Now, Harry, is your trunk packed?"

"Erm..." Harry blushed.

"Doubtful that I would turn up?" Dumbledore smiled.

"I'll just go and — er — finish off," said Harry, picking up his telescope and trainers.

"I'll help," Mel said.

It was the first time she'd ever been in his room. The only time she'd managed to look around was when they rescued him on the Ford Anglia. It was evident this was the only place in the house Harry was allowed to exist freely: A bit messy from running around and packing everything in a hurry, but she didn't mind it at all.

"Cozy," She teased.

"Shut it," He replied, hastily picking up his stuff. "I should've known... of course he wouldn't leave me..."

"You had your reasons to doubt," She shrugged, then added. "We both do..."

Harry stopped and looked at her, but she wasn't in the mood to talk. Mel helped him pack and soon enough everything was in place, she grabbed Hedwig's cage and smiled at the creature.

"Hi there..." She looked back at him. "I'll never forget the look on your uncle's face when we arrived, he looked so frightened!"

"I'm glad I don't have to stay," He picked up his stuff and guided her out. "Because he would murder me if I did..."

Mel snorted, following him to the hall. However, Dumbledore hadn't moved.

"Professor?" Harry spoke. "I'm ready now."

"Good. Just one last thing, then... As you will no doubt be aware, Harry comes of age in a year's time —"

"No," said Mrs Dursley.

"I'm sorry?" said Dumbledore.

"No, he doesn't. He's a month younger than Dudley, and Dudders doesn't turn eighteen until the year after next."

"Ah," He smiled, "but in the Wizarding world, we come of age at seventeen."

"Preposterous," mumbled Vernon.

"Now, as you already know, the wizard called Lord Voldemort has returned to this country. The Wizarding community is currently in a state of open warfare. Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even greater danger now than the day when I left him upon your doorstep fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining about his parents' murder and expressing the hope that you would care for him as though he were your own."

Dumbledore's air changed, and although it wasn't obvious, he was once again emanating power, now more than ever he looked like a man no one should try to upset.

"You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. I'm thankful Emily agreed to move in next door all those years ago and relieved a bit of Harry's misery. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you."

"Us — mistreat Dudders? What d'you — ?"

"The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Harry has powerful protection while he can still call this house 'home.' However miserable he has been here, however unwelcome, however badly treated, you have at least, grudgingly, allowed him houseroom. This magic will cease to operate the moment that Harry turns seventeen; in other words, at the moment he becomes a man. I ask only this: that you allow Harry to return, once more, to this house, before his seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protection continues until that time."

Mel would've loved to add a few insults of her own, but she knew there was no use, they would never learn, would never feel guilty for treating Harry the way they did and to be honest, Dumbledore was right, Mel and her mother were his real family.

"Well... time for us to be off," said Dumbledore, standing up. "Until we meet again."

Mel looked at them one last time without saying anything, something in her felt different, there was a bittersweet emotion that kept her from enjoying herself, and at the same time stopped her from snapping.

"Bye," said Harry shortly.

"We do not want to be encumbered by these just now," Dumbledore said, pulling out his wand and pointing it towards the boy's trunk and owl. "I shall send them to the Burrow to await us there. However, I would like you to bring your Invisibility Cloak... just in case. And now, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."

Erick was waiting patiently against the front of her mother's car. His backpack was hanging from one shoulder, and when he saw them he quickly approached.

"All good?"

"Yes, we just wanted to chat a moment before leaving."

"Chat?" Erick raised a brow, he knew the Dursleys weren't friendly people.

"We'll explain later. C'mon, time to go."

"We're not taking the car?"

"No," said Dumbledore. "It'll be faster if we use magic. Keep your wand at the ready."

"But I thought we're not allowed to use magic outside school, sir?" Harry asked.

"If there is an attack," said Dumbledore, "I give you and Mel permission to use any counter jinx or curse that might occur to you. However, I do not think you need worry about being attacked tonight."

"Why not, sir?"

"You are with me... This will do."

He stopped at the end of the street.

"You have not, of course, passed your Apparition Test," he said.

"No," said Harry. "I thought you had to be seventeen?"

"You do," said Dumbledore. "So you will need to hold on to my arm very tightly. My left, if you don't mind — as you have noticed, my wand arm is a little fragile at the moment."

Erick looked down briefly at his hand and paled.

"Professor, I passed my apparition test last month, I can take Mel so you don't tire yourself out."

The idea of Dumbledore 'tiring himself out' was laughable, but Mel didn't want Erick to feel stupid, and it appeared that Dumbledore was of the same mind.

"Very well, Mr Flint, if it's not much trouble..."

"It's not."

"You know where to go."

Erick offered his arm to her.

"Ready?"

"Like we have a choice," She groaned, firmly holding onto him.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

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[sardinesandhumbugs]

i would be very interested in learning more about horwood (derogatory) if you're interested in explaining?

okay so

so William Horwood was is (apparently he’s still alive and kicking in his 70s) a writer who wrote perhaps the best-known sequel to The Wind in the Willows in 1993: The Willows in Winter. (He wrote three more following after it: Toad Triumphant, The Willows and Beyond, and The Willows at Christmas, but the first one is the one most will be familiar with due to the 1996 movie.)

(He wasn’t the first person to write a sequel to WitW; that honour goes to Dixon Scott in 1983 with A Fresh Wind in the Willows although that had some funky copyright issues) 

The Willows in Winter does its best to mimic the style of the original book, and to some extent it does succeed. It is, however, still essentially published fanfiction and, as such, it has some wonderful ‘misses’ that I will mock this 27-yo story for. (I admittedly kinda love the movie it was adapted into, so this is all done with the same kind of ribbing my friends lovingly bestow upon me after I walk into glass walls or eat notably dodgy apples like some modern-day snow white)

These misses include but are not limited to:

awkward character decisions 

These Characters Are Aggressively Not Gay 

But Sometimes It Will Read Very Gay Anyway 

hilarious character names

I Will (Almost) Kill Mole Multiple Times

Sometimes Twice In The Same Book

you will read “The Water Rat” more than you ever did in witw

Rat has river-speaking abilities now  

Badger has one (1) response to “someone has vanished” and it’s to organise a funeral

Rat sees heaven for, like, a moment

Toad nearly gets hanged 

Anyway, because I have A Lot of thoughts about the book, here’s a spoiler-inclusive breakdown of the plot for your enjoyment below the cut: 

The story starts with Mole’s nephew who we will call “Nephew” for the sole fact that Horwood never deigns to give him any other name. (I have been reliably informed that the next story has Badger’s grandson creatively named... Grandson, just in case anyone thought this might be a one-off.)  

It has been... an indistinguishable number of years since the original book, and Horwood decided the natural character development for the polite and loyal Mole is for him to have become a grumpy old soul who has been passing his recently orphaned Nephew around his friends because he doesn’t like company. 

The biggest issue Mole has is that he erroneously told Nephew that he could stay “as long as [he] wants” and, well, you have to see this for yourself: 

...for ‘as long as you want’ soon feels like a life sentence to a bachelor like Mole, unused to sharing his home with another for more than an evening at a time. 

(Mole is a Bachelor, okay? He’s definitely not accustomed to living whole seasons with Ratty, to the point that he nearly forgets what his own home looks like.)

So Mole is beginning to think that perhaps Nephew isn’t The Worst Thing Ever when Portly turns up in the middle of a horrible snow storm and, in attempting to warm him up, Nephew gives him too much alcohol and promptly sends Portly off to sleep, but not before he imparts that he came running all this way because Rat said that he needed Mole. 

So Mole heads out into the terrible snow storm, gets to the River, and carves his will into a tree because this is Horwood’s fanfic and he can write angst if he wants to, dammit! And, naturally, everything goes wrong. a la Don’t Carry It All style.

You may be saying, oh plot! This sounds dramatic! I regret to inform you that Rat was not, in fact, in danger, but was actually just snowed in with Otter and drunkenly remarked that it’d be so much jollier if Mole joined them (no homo), and then carried getting so drunk that neither of them realised that Portly was gone until three days later. 

[A helpful comic illustrating Otter’s parental abilities]

(This is, of course, the same Portly for whom Otter spent days trying to find in The Piper At the Gates of Dawn chapter of the original book. Turns out his  parental approach has drastically changed since then.)  

After some searching, they find Mole’s will carved into the tree and deduce that Mole attempted to cross the frozen river and failed and they decide to leave off searching until it’s light again. In the meantime, we get this lovely passage that I actually adore for how tender it is: 

The Water Rat knew a night of shadows and half-dreams, memories of Mole in the hot afternoon sun of summer, reflecting upon life. Such remembrances tormented the poor Rat till dawn came once more and he stared bleakly out of the window, tears trickling down his face, listening to the quiet bustle of the other three round the corner in the kitchen. 

During all of this, Toad has discovered a love of flying machines (biplanes, to you and me) and the Riverbankers claim use of his newest one to search for Mole. Long story short, Toad tricks his way into being the pilot, flies so badly that he unseats Rat (who manages to deploy his parachute in time, but has a near-death experience beforehand) and then crashes the plane into a greenhouse in town. 

The other Riverbankers find Rat, who has survived his fall (even if he has seen Beyond the Veil) and he’s currently Talking to the River (Horwood decided to take the “water” part of Rat’s name as a personality trait) and Rat assures the Riverbankers that Mole isn’t dead because the River Said So.

Badger is like, cool, cool, okay he’s suffered a mental break from losing Mole, and possibly Toad too, so we’re going to do the sensible thing and host a funeral for Mole. (Have I mentioned how much they are definitely straight?) 

Anyway, in a move that would make any soap opera green with envy, Mole manages to find his way back to the Riverbank just in time to crash his own funeral, scaring everyone witless until they realise their mistake. (I did say this was published fanfiction.) Everyone is happy, Mole is not dead, and life goes merrily on. 

Meanwhile, Toad has had a few misadventures, that include: 

crashing into a greenhouse that belongs to the judge who sentenced him in the original book

somehow no one realises he’s Toad, so he stays in bed as the heroic pilot who risked life and limb to stop his plane from crashing into the town

escaping disguised as a chimney sweep

turning up to a wedding that the judge was attending and getting arrested

being accused of murdering the missing chimney sweep 

being sentenced to be hanged for murdering the missing chimney sweep

being acquitted from the crime when it turns out the chimney sweep is still alive

(Yes, Horwood really went, hey I should raise the stakes from the original, and then put Toad on trial for murder under threat of hanging.) 

(If what I’ve heard about the later books, Horwood decided that what the Extended WitW Universe was missing was an overarching antagonist, which he rectifies by having the judge return several times.)

Toad is set on his way and he slowly returns back to the Riverbank, mostly because he’s under the impression that not only is Mole dead, but that he probably killed Rat too (this is a Fun Kid’s Book) whereupon he eventually discovers that, uncared for, Toad Hall has fallen into flooded ruin. He mopes and drinks and lights candles before toddling off to Badger’s home, where Badger is having a thoroughly miserable party that has pretty much turned into a Mourning Toad party and they all celebrate Toad’s return. There’s even a sweet moment:

Toad, very drunk and sad: What am I, Badger? Badger: You are home, Toad.

And then in the last two minutes of the book, Toad Hall burns to the ground because Horwood couldn’t resist a last-minute sprinkling of drama into the story.

(Also, also, the last few lines of the book seems to imply that the name of “The Mole” is something that’s inherited like the title of Caesar was, and Nephew will one day be The Mole and I can’t get over that.)

The End. 

Anyway, Horwood is evidence that fanfic writers have always gone, “I can add angst to this,” and that you really shouldn’t feel so bad about that edgy OOC fanfic you wrote when you were 13 because it turns out some people go and get theirs published.

And that’s why some of us have “Horwood (Derogatory)” as a meme. 

[shesclearlya3]

(Dandy anon here!)Ok switching it up now! A tristan x reader where basically the reader is a vampire turned by the countess (when the reader tried commit suicide in the cortez in the 1950s after the death of their husband who was drowned 😉) and the countess see's a little bit of herself in the reader and tries to cheer them up by introducing them to Tristan ~also I really apericate you answering my asks! Its great!❤~

warnings: mentions of death, suicide, and depression

word count: 1,851

"y/n?"

You paused in front of your door, Room 237 when you heard the sound of your 'mothers' voice. It was very late, just past three in the morning when you decided to wander back home. 

When you didn't respond, she continued on, "I never see you around. You hide from me." You felt a hand on your shoulder, turning you around to face the woman you had despised for years. Elizabeth looked stunning, even her face free of makeup, and dressed for comfort rather than vanity. Her eyes observed you quietly, seeing that you looked well-fed, and you weren't missing any limbs. 

"It's that time again. You know how it is," you respond, brushing her hand from your shoulder. Elizabeth nodded, her eyes casting downward as you refused her attempt to be a mother figure towards you, again. 

"I know. I worry about you, y/n. You think I don't, but I do." Elizabeth said, watching as you fiddled with the handle to your room. "Which is why I want you to meet someone tomorrow evening."

"Elizabeth, I'm not interested in a relationship, you know that-."

"Just come," Elizabeth nodded, gripping your free hand tightly in hers. You allowed it, finally meeting her eyes as she smiled at you, leaning in. As much as you hated to admit it, you almost liked it. You hadn't known the comforting touch of another for years.

"I think it would be good for you," Elizabeth said. "He is a bit troubled, a little lost, like you. Trust me." 

So you agreed. As you watched the clock tick by slowly, you wondered who it could possibly be that she wanted you to meet. You stayed in your room as the morning and afternoon hours ticked by, catching up on some reading and browsing through social media. Elizabeth swung by and told you to be in the lobby by eight. 

When the time came, you changed into better clothes before heading downstairs. You dodged Sally as she stumbled down the hall, laughing and yelling in gibberish at nothing. You could hear her voice ricocheting off the walls as you sat at the bottom of the staircase, seeing an empty lobby, like always. Not even Liz was around. 

You had waited on the stairs for a little while until you heard the sound of heavy boots coming down the stairs behind you. They paused, and you could feel a presence behind you, causing you to look. 

For a moment, you thought that Elizabeth was playing a cruel joke on you. You didn't believe your eyes as you looked at this man, his cerulean eyes observing you as if he also thought Elizabeth was fucking with him. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, glaring at you as you gaped at him. 

"I... I... I, uh..." you stuttered out, fumbling over your words like nobody's business. 

He raised an eyebrow at you, before he smirked, coming down the rest of the way. You stood up, seeing as he towered over you by a few inches. "Are you y/n? If you are, I gotta say, you're better looking than I thought you would be."

"You look like someone," you said calmly, finding yourself taking a few steps back from him. "What's your name?" 

"Tristan. Tristan Duffy." he said gruffly, "So... you are y/n, then?"

You nodded, "That's me."

Tristan kind of laughed, "You don't say much."

"I'm sorry, I just..." you decided to shut up, knowing that you'd only be spending one night with this man. He didn't need to know the details of your life, he was just going to be gone tomorrow, anyway. 

"Come on, I'll buy you a drink," Tristan said, gesturing for you to follow him. You did, wondering what Elizabeth's deal was, asking you to meet this guy that looked identical to your dead husband. 

You had sat at the bar with Tristan for a few hours. He seemed pleased that you finally seemed to open up after a bit. Despite his gruff appearance, he was rather endearing and had a great sense of humor. You found yourself laughing at his jokes, and before you knew it, you had moved to one of the couches in the lounge, sitting side by side as you talked.

"Who do I look like that, you know?" Tristan asked, "It's weird, Elizabeth said the same thing to me when we first met." 

You picked at a piece of string on one of the pillows sitting in your lap. You realized that you were starting to like Tristan. After all the time you had spent at the Hotel Cortez, it took you years to tell anyone. And why you have moved to California all the way from Southern Florida. 

"You look like my husband," you said quietly.

Tristan sat up straight, giving you a confused look, he almost seemed disappointed, "You're married?"

"No! No! Not anymore, at least," you said, watching as his posture relaxed. "He died. A long time ago."

Tristan quirked an eyebrow at you, "Are you..."

"Yes."

Tristan nodded, "Me too."

You sighed, "Elizabeth?"

"Who else?" Tristan laughed. 

You smiled, "I've been this young since 1954."

"You're really old," Tristan said, eyeing you up and down. "You're still banging, though."

You threw the pillow at him, smacking him directly in the face. He laughed before tossing it back. "Seriously, though. What's your story?"

"I'm afraid to tell you," you said honestly.

"Why?" Tristan frowned, his arm draping over the back of the couch. His hand itched to touch your shoulder, but he refrained. "I'm good at keeping secrets, sometimes." he joked.

"Everyone I have ever cared about, or loved, has left me," you whispered. Tristan watched you silently, and you continued on. 

"I was born in Florida in 1930. I was born to a wealthy family, and we lived next to the same family ever since I was born. They had a son who was just a few months older than me, his name was..." you swallowed, you haven't talked about him in so long. "His name was Dandy."

Tristan snickered, and you found your lips twitching at the sound. However, he quickly masked it, giving you a solemn look. "I'm sorry, please continue," Tristan said.

"Anyway, we went to school together, some fancy private institution that started allowing girls a few years before we enrolled. We spent a lot of time together, he didn't have many friends, except for another girl and me. When we were in high school, things between us changed. I had a boyfriend at the time. We dated for two months before he went missing." you swallowed.

Tristan perked up, "He went missing?" 

"Yes. They never found him, I don't think." you sighed. "But after that, many months later, we started dating. We dated nearly five years before we finally got married. His mother liked me, but when we announced her engagement, she tried to break us up. We both came from wealthy families, but she was afraid I was going to take their money." you rolled your eyes. "It was all a big mess for a while. When we got married, it was only the two of us."

"What about your parents?" Tristan asked.

"They died not long after graduation. They were driving home from a party when a storm came through, it looked like they lost control of the car and drove off a hill." you frowned, "Ironically, I was supposed to go with them that night, but... Dandy begged me not to go, I ended up pretending to be sick last minute, I watched them drive away from my window, and I never saw them again."

Tristan didn't say anything, but you felt his hand finally press against your shoulder. Much like the night before, you enjoyed the contact from another person. 

"We got married in October of 1951. We were married only a few months before he was taken from me." you sighed. "Dandy never wanted kids growing up, but after we got married, he talked about them. It was actually the last thing we talked about before he died."

"How did he?-"

"He drowned." you said flatly, "I came home one day and found him, someone had moved his body after he passed."

"y/n, I'm so sorry," Tristan whispered.

"You look just like him," you continued, "I still have all of our photo albums. The few photos I had of us in color disappeared," you frowned. "I look at them all of the time, but everything else about him exists only in my memory. Tomorrow is the anniversary of his death, he's been gone almost seventy years."

"How did Elizabeth find you?"

You smiled weakly, "After he died, I inherited his money. I still had the large fortune left to me by my parents, including the money I received selling my parents' house. I lived in Florida for a few more months. I went into a deep depression, I hardly left my room, I lost so much weight that I ended up being hospitalized. Until finally, I just packed some things and left."

Tristan was still interested, and you continued telling him your story. You went to Los Angeles after traveling the world. Dandy had always talked about going to LA or moving there eventually. You came for him, but Elizabeth found you one night, sleeping in Dandy's car. 

"She could practically smell the tragedy wafting off me," you said. "She offered me a room here, said that I could stay as long as I wanted as long as I wasn't living in my car. I lived here for a few weeks, but staying in one place, especially the same city Dandy had always spoken about visiting, caused my depression to get worse." 

"On his second anniversary, I tried to kill myself," you laughed dryly. "I tried to drown myself in the bathtub, but it was hard. It made me think of what he went through in his final moments. So I took a bunch of pills, not wanting to wake up the next day."

Tristan winced, his hand still lingering on your shoulder.

"But I did. I woke up in Elizabeth's room, standing over me. She was crying, asking what happened to me that made me want to die. I was very angry, I stormed off, and I stayed away for a few days. Until I couldn't take the hunger anymore, and I came back, asking what she did to me."

"Do you still hate her?" Tristan asked.

You looked at him, seeing how intensely he was watching you. 

"I did." you answered honestly, "I hated her for a long time. I felt like she took away my one chance to be with him again, to finally stop all of the suffering I was going through. She told me about all the loss she suffered, but I always said she never understood how I felt." you frowned. "Now, I think she always did."

Tristan smiled at you, and you smiled back. For the first time in a long time, you felt hope. 

[excusemewhileiplaykh]

The new trailer has me thinking a lot.

People are already speculating that the Keyblade Graveyard or wherever it is that the “final battle” takes place is most likely Scala ad Caelum. This is due to the fact that the Keyblade Graveyard (in recent trailer scenes) shares symbols with Scala ad Caelum (as seen from this image below from reddit)

This would seem to suggest that the Scala ad Caelum we see at the end of the last trailer must be a version of it from the past. It’s Keyblade Graveyard form must then be its present form or a later form in general after a great war took place.

Moreover, Scala ad Caleum seems to be the place where Master Xehanort and Master Eraqus trained as young keyblade wielders (see this reddit post)

This also points to time traveling. This would mean that Sora and Xehanort, after everyone disappears in the final battle, somehow time travel to Scala ad Caelum.

How did they time travel?

We already know Xehanort and all his other version can time travel courtesy of Dream Drop Distance.

But Sora has never really time traveled the same way. He time travels in the dream world with the use of magic. However, technically speaking, Sora does have the ability to time travel as Xehanort can.

Let's review the rules of time travel as they’re given to us in Dream Drop Distance (again this is from reddit):

How does somebody time travel in the Kingdom Hearts universe? First, you must abandon your body and become just a heart. One way to become just a heart is to extract your heart with a Keyblade. Another method would be to become a Heartless, since Heartless are technically just corrupted hearts. Once you become just a heart, then you have the ability to move through time.

Becoming just a heart also gives all versions of yourself from across time the ability to time travel. But, they're not actually able to do so without assistance from someone who actually has a time travel power. Just because you have the ability to travel through time, doesn't mean you're actually able to do so. You can only time travel if you are just a heart, or if you have the time travel ability plus assistance. I will elaborate what I mean by "assistance" later in this post.

What are the laws of time travel in the Kingdom Hearts universe? You are only able to travel through time if there is a version of yourself present at the time you want to travel to. Also, you cannot change what is destined to happen. All that really means though is that you cannot change the future, because everything is already set in stone. Once you return back to your respective time, you will forget everything that has happened during your experience time traveling. However, these memories and experiences will be etched into your heart and could influence your decisions and the paths you take.

Since you lose your memories after you get back to your respective time, there would be no point in traveling to the future to try and find out what happens.

That is what we know so far about time travel in the Kingdom Hearts universe. Now, I will explain various characters' involvements with time travel.

...

Sora and Riku In the beginning of Kingdom Hearts 3D: Dream Drop Distance, Sora and Riku traveled back in time to the day Destiny Islands fell to darkness. They had the ability to move through time because both of them have become just hearts at one point in the first Kingdom Hearts. Sora became just a heart/a Heartless when he stabbed himself with the Keyblade of Heart, and Riku became just a heart when his heart was sort of kicked out of his body into the Realm of Darkness when he was possessed by Ansem, Seeker of Darkness. This caused all versions of Sora and Riku from throughout time to gain the ability to time travel. But, they weren't able to do so without assistance, so Yen Sid assisted them. Yen Sid used magic to send them back in time, which is a different method of time travel than Xehanort's method. Instead of becoming just a heart and going back in time to give a version of themself the time travel power in order to assist other versions of themself through time, Yen Sid just assisted them by using time travel magic to send them back in time. Characters like Yen Sid and Merlin have time magic. But, Yen Sid's time travel magic still follows the rules of time travel that this post has been explaining. He could only send Sora and Riku back in time to a point in time where versions of them existed/were present.

Sora and Riku are younger in Kingdom Hearts 3D: Dream Drop Distance simply because of Yen Sid's magic as well. He used his magic to make them younger again in order to sort of help with the whole starting over from scratch for the Mark of Mastery exam thing. They didn't inhabit their younger bodies contrary to popular belief. They didn't need to become just hearts in order to time travel, because they had the time travel ability plus assistance. Them becoming just hearts would've been a big mess as well. They would've turned into Heartless/Nobodies.

In short, Sora and Riku have the ability to time travel because they were once hearts. They are able to time travel without reverting to a “just a heart” status due to Master Yen Sid’s magic. They also didn’t have to inherit time travel from a “heart” version of themselves like the Xehanorts.

With that context in mind, Sora can very well time travel like Xehanort. But we have two problems:

1. How did he time travel without Master Yen Sid’s assistance and without turning into a pure heart?

2. If Scala ad Caelum is in the past when Master Xehanort existed, how is Sora there if he is significantly younger than Master Xehanort?

The first question is less of a problem I think. If Master Yen Sid’s time travel magic helped Sora go back to the past, I am sure Master Xehanort has similar magic.

The second question gets sticky because the only explanation would be that Sora existed in that timeline. Or someone extremely connected to his heart existed in that timeline.

Why do I say that? Well keep in mind people like Terranort and Saix can time travel, yet they technically have hearts of their own which are in essence under control by parts of Xehanort’s heart. Having part of Xehanort's heart is enough to allow them to time travel.

This would suggest that someone from that timeline, someone who coexisted with young Xehanort and young Eraqus is connected to Sora’s heart, enough so that in essence their hearts are intertwined.

Who is that person? Three possibilities:

1. Master Eraqus

2. Eraqus and Xehanort’s Master

3. Xehanort

Master Eraqus is a likely candidate because the scene where him and Master Xehanort are playing chess implies he knows more than he lets on. He might have some knowledge of who Sora is and what is to come, but that seems like a stretch because he is seemingly swept up into Master Xehanort’s plan in Birth by Sleep

Eraqus and Xehanort’s Master is a complete mystery for the most part. We can imply that his master is somehow connected to Luxu, since No Name appears in one of the chess game trailer scenes. Other than that, we know nothing about this figure

It would seem his connection to Xehanort is what allows him to go to Scala ad Caelum

Xehanort requires 13 vessels. In this scene, there are only 12 vessels shown here. That would make Sora the 13th vessel.

This would imply that either at the end of Dream Drop Distance, Sora is fully or partially norted, despite Lea blocking the blast. That, or Sora somehow gets norted at some other point in Kingdom Hearts 3.

I still have a feeling something bigger is happening here though. I cannot shake the fact that Sora is not only connected to Master Xehanort, but the other perhaps even greater puppetmaster of this series. But as the Master of Master once said himself:

[irepookie]

Infinity Chapter 4-

Meet The Family (PT.1)

Summary: QUEEN AU where Rog (aka Rowan Queen) is a young single dad struggling to make it into music industry.

Warnings: not really. Just fluff, sappiness and swearwords here and there

Disclaimer: I don't own the pictures. The boys are based on Queen, but Piper, Gina and Callie are mine

John: Rick Lincoln (Cause he is John Richard Deacon born on August 19th 1951™™™™™)

Brian: Terry Garrett (Cause my uncle used to have a black puddle named Terry and I had no choice)

Freddie: Len Mars (Yea I couldn't help myself)

Chapter 4- Row opens up with the boys about the raisin.

“I'm a dad”........

"Okay, let's... let's get over this again: A daughter?" Terry, the band's guitarist couldn't believe his ears.

"Yes, Terry. A daughter" Row repeated for the 19th time from the other side of the phone.

"A baby." Len said, taking another sip of his tequila.

"No, a 30 year old alpaca." Row said sarcastically. "Yes, a goddamn baby. Fucking gorgeous, just so you know"

"And you're gonna keep her." Rick, who had been quietly plunking his bass' strings, added. "Are you sure?"

"It's done. I've already kept her. And it's not like I'm rescuing a shelter dog. She's mine. Period."

"Sorry, was just trying to... Wrap my head around it"

To be honest, Row still couldn't quite believe it (that he was a father). Not even now, as he tried to convince his best friends while holding his girl with the other arm.

"And is your mom okay with it?" Terry asked

He scoffed, clutching his Lil raisin close at the thought "My mom has no say in this".

"But she knows" Rick said.

He sighed "Yes, she knows. And she was a bitch about it, okay? She can disown me for all I care". It's not like there was much to inherit, anyway.

There was a general sigh from his three best friends.

"And what are you gonna do?"

" 'bout what?"

"Um, I don't know, man. About School? Maybe about your life in general?"

"School ain't something I'm worrying about".

"What a surprise" Rick rolled his eyes.

"But you're still in the band right?" Len said

"Oh, of course. Of course. You guys are gonna be the only ones keeping me sane"

They chuckled

"But we ain't gonna babysit for you, huh?"

"As if you knew anything about babies"

"Well, the same as you." Terry said

"Just what I was saying: nothing at all" Row grinned

"Her future looks bright, then" Len half teased.

"Incandescent, in fact" Row could pretty much hear Terry's arched eyebrow.

The youngest member could only roll his eyes and try not to take it as an insult. He knew this was a lot to process all of a sudden and that in the inside, beyond the sarcasm and teasing, they were happy for him.

"Whatever, guys" he replied, as Pips began to frown. He sighed, knowing that meant smelly treat was on its way "Gotta go. By the way, she just told me she thinks you guys stink" he grinned, before hanging up.

The other three men exchanged a confused glance, and stayed in silence for a minute, until Len broke it:

"I say he'll go completely nuts in seven days".

"That long? Nah, I think less than 24 hours after they leave the hospital." Terry said

Len smirked "Bet?"

"I'm a bit tight at the moment, pal"

"Then not money. If I win, you'll be my model for the midterm design project. It's 30's fashion. For ladies, of course".

"Ok. But if I win you'll do my chores for a whole weeks."

"A whole week?!"

"Seven days, if you prefer it."

They shook hands "Deal. Rick? Join us?"

"I actually rather believe that they'll be alright" Rick got up and stretched.

"Well of course they will. Eventually. Row always figures things out." T said

"The fun part is to watch him go crazy in the meantime" Len chuckled "Like when he first moved in and left a fork in the plate when first using the microwave"

They laughed, remembering how their friend had called them at 9 PM in panic, screaming the microwave had exploded.

"Let's just hope for the best. I mean he seemed quite sure of himself this time. And who knows, maybe being a dad is the best way to grow up." Rick defended

"Yea, well a bit radical, don't you think?" Len said

"Like sock therapy. If smokers quit when diagnosed with lung cancer, maybe Row settles down now he has a baby"

"I just still don't get why he didn't just put her in adoption" T said

Rick shrugged "Would you if you were in his shoes?"

"Absolutely"

"That's exactly how Row would've answered, say, a week ago. That's what we all answer. Until it really happens. I think it's one of those situations where you can't really picture until you live it."

"But this is Rowan Queen we're talking about. Rowan <<Made out with both Jones Twins at the same party Cause I didn't remember which was which>> Queen. I mean, he does know that a kid is gonna freeze his sex life for indefinite time, right? What the hell was going through his head?" Terry said

"I can't believe you think that." Len interjected "I mean, I'm the one who's never gonna be a dad here, and the one who failed biology, but even I get it. He met her right? Before any decision was made, he met her. Once you meet your kid, you're tangled up forever. And you might think you're not but if you give them away you'll never get rid of a feeling of remorse."

"Wow, Lenny, that was deep"

"Yea, where'd you get that from?"

"Just common sense."

"Funny, considering you're the one who's started the bet" Rick grinned

"One thing doesn't prevent the other. And out of the two of us, I'm the optimistic! He gave him one day, I gave him seven! I trust him"

"Well I'm not sure if I do. I mean, I love him, he's a great guy, a great musician, and everything else, but he's not reliable. Remember his first job as a waiter? I'm still waiting for the fish and chips I ordered last April"

The other two chuckled "I once lent him a t-shirt, and I swear I saw Liz Michael's wearing it" Len said

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, well, we can't do anything about it, T. It's his life"

"But this affects us too, one way or another. This affects the band. And he didn't even consult us"

"Well what did you expect him to do? Call and go <<Hey guys, are you fine with me having a daughter? No? Okay, just checking. Bye>>?" Rick imitated a phone with his hand, doing a decent impression of their friend's high voice.

"A head's up would have been nice"

"Terry, just chill for fucks shake. I mean, this is unexpected, but Row's our best friend, our brother, and we have to support him. Because, if he's a dad, that's makes us her uncle's. And it'll be fun having a little niece we can spoil" Len smiled at the idea.

"Spoil? With what money?" Terry, always realistic, put his hands on his hips

"With the upcoming tour's, of course darlings" he twirled majestically around the room

"First, that's in four months" Rick reminded

"If it does happen at all"

They still had one last song to arrange And record. Plus, they didn't know how Row was gonna make it work now he had a baby. But nobody addressed that concern out loud.

"Oh don't be so goddamn negative, fellas! C'mon! We're uncle's! Row's made a very important, life-changing, mature decision, and we should be proud of him. So" he went to the fridge and returned with three beers "I say we toast for him and the lil Queenie"

The other two grinned and accepted the cans, opening them.

"Oh, I say we Split a fourth beer in his behalf, cause parents shouldn't drink while breastfeeding" Terry mocked, earning a laugh

"To the Queens" Rick raised his can "For our little bro to take this seriously and not fuck this kid up"

"To the Queens" Terry and Len crashed theirs as well.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

Meanwhile, in the hospital...

"Goddamn it, raisin! How can someone so small produce so many colors of something so stinky?" Row exclaimed, holding his breath as he clipped the fresh nappy on his daughter "We only feed you milk! Like... Like white milk! How can you turn a white liquid into rainbow pudding? Holy shit" he held the dirty one at arms length and threw it in the bin "It's a damn good thing I love you, cause I won't do this for anyone else" he told her, lifting her up to his chest again before walking around the room

"You gonna be a good girl for me for the next eighteen years? Huh?" He kissed her chubby cheek "What am I saying? You're my daughter, of course you're gonna be a trouble maker. But we'll get along, you'll see. I ain't gonna be like my parents. Don't worry. I won't be a bloody pain in the ass like mom, and I will never ever do anything my old man did. That I can promise. But I gotta admit I do want you to be like Gina. Yea, she's a control freak sometimes, but let's face it: she's gotta be the strongest person I've ever met. You should've seen her kicking the bastard out the house. She took no shit."

He smiled somewhat proudly at the memory, and for a second forgot how mad he was at her for turning her back on them.

"You wanna be a badass gurl like her? Huh? Yes you do. Yes you do" he cooed, craning his neck so he could brush his nose with her little button one. Her fist chose to close around the nearest strands of blond hair on reach, which he found secretly adorable.

But a part of him did wish he had mom's support. After all, despite the rough patches through his teens, they had always had each other's back; through thick and thin. She had have to raise him all alone, and although he hadn't even begun with Pips, he already knew it hadn't been easy. She may be stern, and a bit inflexible when it came to negotiating allowance. She could come across as rude if you caught her in the wrong mood (which many neighbors had) but above all she was a good person and a good mother.

And looking back, he hadn't been such a great son. He could have been more responsible, less handful and more obedient. Less rebellious, too. He could have thanked her more often for the thousand things she did everyday. For the meals. For all the jobs she had taken to provide for the two of them. For the surprise birthday gift she had got him with the money she had been saving: a real drum kit. For helping him move out her house into that one room crappy appartement which would be Pip's home.

But still she had rejected Piper without a second thought, regardless of her anger towards him; Pips was her granddaughter, she had done nothing wrong and as her father, Row doubted he would ever forgive Gina.

He sighed, untangling the hand of his hair and bringing it to his lips "But you don't have to worry about all that. Just concentrate on staying strong and growing up. And I promise I'll focus all of me on being the best dad. That you'll never miss a mom cause you don't need one. You've got me and I swear I'll be enough. Even if I'm still young: I'll have it all more fresh won't I?" He grinned "You're the one person who's never judged me yet, and I don't wanna let you down"

That a was vow. And he was determined to keep it.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

This one goes to my mega-paragraphist @definitely-darcy who's got my engine going through the usual inspiration blocks, and who's reviews help me improve. She's made me believe in this fic, and encouraged me to keep going despite the one digit notes.

Xx- Pookie

[tadghpairceir]

🍀 And you smile when you dive in, Like you're never coming back 🍀

Born to an abusive alcoholic father and addict mother in Carrick-on-Suir, Tadgh’s mere birth was an Olympic-level feat. At just a few days old, he was traded as payment for drugs the very drugs that would kill his mother. Thereafter, death had a way of being Tadgh’s constant companion. His father, shaken by the death of his wife, drank himself to death next to her corpse and the pair wouldn’t be found for weeks, after a neighbor complained about the stench. Of course, these little details remained a secret as he was raise, at least for a short time, by the biggest Irish crime ring of its time. They raised him as normally as one could expect, albeit also raising him to be scrappy and independent. There was no spoiling of him, no toys or sweets, and any peace he found in those first few years of his life were in the books that were read to him by the rotating prostitutes that used his bathroom to freshen up before they went back on the streets.

Eventually the truth came out, as the bright blue eyed boy with his sandy blonde hair not only looked out of place in the cluster of criminals but looked exactly like his parents. Upon investigation his only living family members, maternal grandparents, were contacted and take in the, by then, seven year old. They kept the name given to him, Tadgh, because they liked the strength of it, but they were quick to change his surname to theirs in hopes of protecting him from anyone trying to find him. Truthfully, there were always signs he would never be free of them, but his grandparents were unaware of it as their health declined. Ultimately, Tadgh was in the same boat of ignorance because he was left to care for his grandparents. The years up to that point were enlightening. His grandparents quickly realized he was gifted and sought out advanced placement courses for him. For a while, Tadgh had been a self declared explorer, insisting he would one day see the whole world. Little did he know, his journey to being an explore would be a complicated but inevitable one.

By the age of thirteen Tadgh’s grandparents were completely incapable of managing day to day life without a carer. He began to voraciously read books on all types of mechanics. Then, the teen would take apart and reassemble various appliances, the family car, and his bike. It was all a coping mechanism, his way of relaxing through the stress of his inevitable loneliness. By the time he was sixteen he took odd repair jobs around Dublin until he had his own unofficial business. In just shy of two years, his grandfather would die of lung cancer. Then, a week after, his grandmother died of breast cancer. There was a guilt that came with his ignorance in the conditions. Tadgh had no frame of reference for what dementia and diabetes looked like, and assumed that they were simply getting more ill from those conditions and that because of their old age he could only help to a certain degree. His teachers at Gaelscoil had no idea what his home life was like and only a few were made aware of his grandparents passing because he was already a legal adult.

The few teachers that knew about Tadgh’s situation took particular interest in encouraging the brilliant young man to continue his education. He’d been truant because he was working more to afford his grandparents’ funerals. They made accommodations, helped him fill out his college paperwork, and apply for scholarships. Finishing Gaelscoil in December, one semester early, he continued to work while he sold his boyhood home to pay off debts. By the end of the official school year he was accepted to the Dublin Institute of Technology (DIT) and pursued a degree in business management starting August. Since he knew he would be in Dublin for at least another four years and really couldn’t see his life taking him anywhere else despite his wanderlust, Tadgh bought a small apartment near the cemetery where he’d purchased memorial space for his family members.

By his junior year and after maintaining a perfect GPA, Tadgh was offered a fellowship to spend his junior year studying abroad in France. Quickly accepting the opportunity to attend Grenoble École de Management, he didn’t realize the decision would change his life. Just two days into his first semester he met Beatrice. The pair became inseparable, sharing a love of literature as she taught him French and he offered her Gaelic. With a dread of possibly not seeing her after returning to Ireland, he decided to spend the summer with her in California, meeting her family as her “friend”. Flying home three months later the only thing on his mind was finding a way back and never letting go. It was a relationship of back and forth, but he made it to her own graduation, where the pair made the relationship official roughly a year and a half after they’d met. If you’d asked Tadgh would say a year and a half after he knew who is soulmate and future wife was.

After Tadgh finished college, he waited for his Work Visa approval to move to the United States, but he knew it would be a continued back and forth until he could obtain citizenship. On his first endeavor back to Dublin he wanted to make his intentions clear and he proposed to Beatrice. A month later, she arrived in his city and just three months after that, when they were in their mid-twenties, they eloped at the same church his maternal grandparents were wed. His citizenship was approved two and a half years later but life quickly took a turn. Just a few weeks afterward his apartment was robbed. Tadgh quickly sent Beatrice back to the states to her family and when he followed he was shortly thereafter arrested for international money laundering and other business related crimes.

With no means of paying for a decent lawyer and no clue as to who framed him aside from the criminals that had taken him as a child, Tadgh asked his wife for a divorce, to change her name and lose contact. He was afraid of what this person would do to her and the shame he was putting on her wealthy family. It was then that she told him her own secret, she was pregnant. Losing his case seemed inevitable with an appointed lawyer that couldn’t care less about his case. So, Tadgh took it upon himself to study law and appeal his case. In the time this took his son Tomás was born and, just nine days after Tomás turned one, he managed to win his appeal and his freedom.

Law books weren’t the only things Tadgh was reading when he was incarcerated. He moved through every book in the library and when he left he decided to officially launch his own business and put his tinkering to good use while assisting formerly incarcerated non-violent offenders. With the success of his business he bought a home in northern California near Beatrice’s parents and lived a seemingly routine and average life. That was until Thomás was nearly six and Tadgh’s family, along with his in-laws were murdered before his eyes by the same Irish crime ring he’d run from. Despite being beaten within an inch of his life he woke up a few weeks later to having lost everyone. He buried them in Inglewood Memorial Park, sold everything again, and rented a small flat, living aimlessly for years.

There were only a few point in his life after their deaths when things ‘made sense’. First, if he engrossed himself in literature he felt like he was in another world, transported from the pain. Second, when he was with his best friend, a Scottish girl with a heart problem who died before they could stop biting at each other over feelings. In a world where his timing was never right, his realization that he had finally fallen in love again was far too late. She’d fallen for someone he respected and died shortly thereafter. The collapse of friendship and the revolving door of death in his life made the states feel like another place of hurt. The Lattice changed everything for him.

Tadgh’s company had become self-sustainable due to the United State’s rampant incarceration rates, lack of government support to rehabilitate, and a rise in college bound students lacking trade skills. He didn’t have to worry about his finances for years because of the inheritance from the murders of his family members, but he did prefer to work. So, he settled into a quiet home outside of Malmö, travels the world, and spends his weeks tinkering or selling his work at conventions in major cities across the world.