#i wonder how much of james reminds her of her son

[moonstruckme]

In a week-

I saw you did royal Bodyguard poly!marauders to sunshine!reader, ans I was wondering if we could get something like that but instead reader is a little sneakt bitch who uses escaping her bodyguards as a fun pastime?????

Thanks for requesting!!

join the party

bodyguard!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 979 words

You’re about to take a sip from your cup when your wrist is gripped by a strong hand, stopping it from reaching your mouth. 

“You have no idea what’s in there.” 

“Hi, Jamie,” you shoot him a smile, warm and loose all over from the drinks you’ve already had. “Sure I do. It’s a rum and coke. Pretty straightforward, actually.” 

“He means,” Remus says, prying your fingers from around the cup and setting it on the bar, “that you probably weren’t watching to see if anyone slipped something into it, and unfortunately for you, we weren’t here to do it for you.” 

You don’t have to look around to know Sirius will be here as well, your three bodyguards relentless and nearly impossible to shake. Still, you’re a bit proud you’d managed to get free for a little over an hour tonight. That’s not an easy task. 

“No one here is going to drug me,” you say, though you know that’s not strictly true, and you go on before one of them can contradict you. “How’d you find me anyway?” 

James gives you a deadpan look, the closest thing you ever get to anger from him. “If we told you, you’d just figure out how to get around it next time.” He sets a hand on your shoulder, pushing you gently away from the bar. “Come on, let’s go home.” 

“I don’t want to go home,” you say, and despite your best intentions, your voice comes out with a petulant edge. “Why can’t we stay here?”

“You know very well you’re allowed to go out,” Remus says as he and James steer you towards the exit. “But we haven’t had time to look around this place, and you’re supposed to be studying at Kate’s.” 

“So this is a punishment.” It’s not a question, but Sirius answers you anyway, draping an arm around your shoulders as you meet him by the door. 

“Yes, it is,” he says lightly. “You almost killed Remus tonight, doll, and attempted murder deserves a time-out at the very least.” 

Even whilst scolding you, Sirius’ voice is teasing. Between the three of them, you know he’s the least upset with you. He might be a bit frustrated, sure, but he seems to also harbor a tiny bit of respect or understanding for what he calls your ill-timed rebellious phase. Though to be fair, you’d never had much cause for rebellion before your mom had forced a security detail upon you. You were used to doing whatever you wanted, and what you wanted had never seemed so wild until one day you needed permission to go outside and your privacy was blown to smithereens. 

You step out into the cool night air, and Sirius rubs your upper arm when you shiver. Remus leads you all towards the parking lot, and you’re secretly glad to be able to get into a warm car even if you’re still stubbornly yearning for the mundanity of the bus. 

“I know you think of running off as trying to get back some sort of freedom,” James says, and his voice is gentler now if not quite friendly, “but it’s not going to feel like freedom if while you’re off by yourself one of your mom’s…critics,” he decides, using the most delicate term possible, “takes the opportunity to kidnap you.” 

“Or kill you.” Remus says gruffly, his posture extra-stiff as he scans the parking lot, eyes skimming over every dark corner and potentially occupied vehicle. 

“Their issue is with her, not me,” you sigh, somewhere between frustrated and resigned. “You should be protecting her.” 

“She’s got her own detail,” Remus reminds you. “And it wouldn’t be the first time extremists have targeted a politician’s family to get at them.” 

You’re silent at that, and the boys let you stew in it, the memory of your mother’s face when she’s gotten the news that her coworker’s son had been killed in their home. She’d grieved for her friend that day, but her panic had been for herself. For you. 

“We’ve got to find a way around this need to escape, angel,” James says, opening the door to the backseat and offering you a hand in. You nod hello to Marcus, your mom’s driver, whose duties have apparently been extended to picking you up when you go “missing” for an hour or two. Sirius gets in on your other side, Remus taking the passenger seat. “Are we really so awful to be around?”

“No,” you say, though you know the question was meant in jest. They deserve to know anyway. “You guys are great. It’s your job that’s the problem.” 

“Unfortunately, it’s still our job,” Remus says, turning around to fix you with a look. It works, and you shrink in your seat. Remus is such a kind, gentle soul, especially considering his profession, so when he focuses his disapproval like this, it always leaves you feeling thoroughly shamed. “Every time you slip off, we have to act as if you’ve been kidnapped, even if we know better. And you very well could be kidnapped. You just—” He shakes his head, and guilt sprouts, winding and thorny, in your gut. “—I don’t think you understand the danger you’re putting yourself in when you do this.”

You nod, forcing yourself to look him in the eye so he knows you’re really listening. “I’m sorry. I’ll…” you sigh, indignation eating at you even as you give in. “I’ll try to work with you guys more.”

“That’s all we’re asking, sweetheart,” James says, bumping your shoulder with his lightly, and you know you’re at least mostly forgiven. 

“For tonight,” Sirius drawls, “are you going to actually stay in your room, or is one of us going to have to tie you to the bed?” He winks. “Because if you need me to, I can totally do that, dollface.”

[saintsenara]

hello! I know you have said before that you believe Voldemort to have inherited Merope’s brown eyes and I am wondering what other traits you feel he got from her, if any ?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i am indeed on the record that voldemort has his mother's eyes - and i will not be persuaded away from the idea that this is the canon text's actual intention.

but i'm also on the record that i like to write the vast majority of his personality traits - especially his more negative ones - as coming from his father.

this is because it's a way of expanding the narrative purpose that tom riddle sr. plays in the series - which is to be the reminder that his son cannot outrun his muggle heritage - which also skewers the way the text [despite the centrality of choice, remorse, and redemption to the story] presents voldemort as irredeemable from childhood. the series - especially in half-blood prince - sets up voldemort’s slytherin heritage as dooming him to be incapable of change in either positive or negative directions. the way the gaunts are described in canon - violent, unstable, grandiose etc. - is meant to suggest that voldemort gets these aspects of his personality from them; that - like the parseltongue - being violent and having delusions of grandeur are just things the heirs of slytherin are bound to inherit.

and so i like the idea that actually voldemort's ego, his temper, his capacity for cruelty and so on all originate in his muggle genes, as a way of emphasising how much of his evil is pure choice.

but i also like it because this is - essentially - what the series does with harry and james [and i am all about the harry-voldemort narrative mirroring]. the ways in which harry takes after james are big and clear and demonstrative - he looks exactly like him, he's a talented flyer, he's impulsive and daring, he has the same patronus, he adores his father's best friend, he hates snape with the same ire james did, and so on. his similarity to lily is more subtle - and, indeed, the text often suggests he is not similar to her [the skills as a potioneer slughorn assumes he's inherited from lily are - of course - actually the result of him cheating, for example].

the series does this for narrative reasons - lily's centrality to the mystery of the series is something the text obviously wants to keep hidden until the end of deathly hallows, not least as a way of keeping the reader guessing about snape's loyalties until the last minute.

but the series also obscures the importance of merope...

voldemort's grief over his mother is absolutely catastrophic, and it drives several of his actions in ways the watsonian text [since the person taking us through them is usually dumbledore, who spectacularly fails to understand the way grief affects voldemort] glosses over.

for example, not only does he impulsively murder his father seconds after learning he returned to his comfortable home after abandoning his mother, but he also clearly decides to frame morfin for the crime after his uncle calls merope a "slut":

“Ar, he left her, and serves her right, marrying filth,” said Morfin, spitting on the floor again. “Robbed us, mind, before she ran off! Where’s the locket, eh, where’s Slytherin’s locket?” Voldemort did not answer. Morfin was working himself into a rage again; he brandished his knife and shouted, “Dishonored us, she did, that little slut! And who’re you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It’s over, innit... It’s over...”  He looked away, staggering slightly, and Voldemort moved forward. As he did so, an unnatural darkness fell, extinguishing Voldemort’s lamp and Morfin’s candle, extinguishing everything...

similarly, while dumbledore describes his murder of hepzibah smith as one of gain... it actually seems to be one of revenge, again targeting someone who insults merope:

“That’s right!” said Hepzibah, delighted, apparently, at the sight of Voldemort gazing at her locket, transfixed. “I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn’t let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value - ” There was no mistaking it this time: Voldemort’s eyes flashed scarlet at the words, and Harry saw his knuckles whiten on the locket’s chain.

[and it's also worth saying that his mother's locket is the only horcrux for which voldemort constructs an elaborate defence in a place meaningful to him from childhood.]

i love these little glimpses we get into voldemort's desire to be a mammy's boy - and i love them specifically because of how fragmentary they are. voldemort is forced to invent so much about his mother's life [his version of his parents' relationship, as told to harry in goblet of fire, is, for example, considerably more romantic than the reality], in a way which is a really moving - and very accurate - look at how bereaved children often think about someone they've lost.

and so i like, when thinking about things lord voldemort inherits from his mam, to continue along those fragmentary lines - and for merope to be the source of little things - little habits and quirks - which it never occurs to him that [unlike his face] could be inherited.

fans of the asenora cinematic universe will notice that she has the same sweet tooth [and preference for certain old-fashioned sweets] i always give her son. i also always write her as the source of the magpieishness - as someone who also hoards and collects and who like shiny things - and as the source of the fondness for long walks, the love of the seaside, and the fascination [no matter how hard he tries to pretend otherwise] with musicals.

that he never knows any of this is part of the - miserable - fun...

[wanderingsoul6261]

A Happy Ending

gif credit goes to supporter-of-my-fav-ships

james beaufort x reader (Requested by an anon)

synopsis: We all felt jipped by that ending. Admit it. This is a glimpse of the happy ending we wished that James and Ruby had gotten.

I hope I got these guys right, I'm trying.

warning: talk of suggestive activities, but nothing much, really.

-------

Many at Maxton Hall had wondered what exactly happened to James and Ruby after they had left. Ruby was keen on going to Oxford. James, however, was not. Maybe it had something to do with his father. Perhaps it had more to do with the fact that he wanted to be his own person. Of course, there was nothing wrong with that, and if anything, Ruby had preferred it. 

However, the true events of what happened were only known to a few people. The Beauforts and the Bells. Mortimer Beaufort had cut off all contact with his son after James abandoned them, hoping for a happier and more carefree life. Sure he still had the money that had technically still belonged to him, so no matter what, things would still be easy. Mr. Beaufort had attempted at even dictating Lydia’s ability to connect with her twin, but he was never able to stop her for long. The two siblings were always able to figure something out. Percy was also willing to take Lydia to “lunch” with her “friends”. 

Even if Lydia missed her brother heavily, she was happy for him. He had achieved the impossible and had escaped the life that two of them in the end, didn’t seem to have a care for. 

James and Ruby had both stayed temporarily with her parents, before they had found their own place. They both agree that something that looked nice, but wasn’t exactly over the top, would be good enough for them. The two of them didn’t have any need for a manor as large as the one that the Beauforts owned. 

And with what they had, James and Ruby were happy. 

—-

Ruby had just arrived home from a long day at Oxford. The workload was strenuous and had definitely kept her busy. James in the end had decided that he too would go back to school, but had vowed to stay as far from Oxford as he could. It reminded him too much of his father and expectations. He had a short day today, and had therefore beat Ruby home. 

Ruby set her stuff down by the front door, walking into the living room, where James had surprised her. He watched her with a large smile, splayed across the couch. The tv was on, likely to serve as some background noise for him, but now that Ruby was home, he’d be more likely to watch it with her. James never did care much for tv, although they didn’t have much of it when he still lived with his parents. 

“Hello and welcome home.” He jumped up from the couch to greet her. Ruby looked confused, turning her gaze from him, to the takeout on the coffee table, and the various candles lit around the room. She had actually appreciated the cozy ambience that it brought to the house. It had almost reminded her of home back with her parents and younger sister. 

“What is this?” Ruby asked. James looked around the room. 

“What? I can’t create a romantic setting for my girlfriend at home?” he asked. James paused slightly on the take out, then turned his head so that he could see her. “Do you not like it?” 

Ruby shook her head, took a few steps forward, and grabbed ahold of his hands. 

“No, of course I do. I absolutely love it. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.” Ruby reasoned. The two of them went on plenty of dates when they had the time, even if they were often reserved for the weekend because of how busy they were with classes during the week. James had actually felt bad that their date nights had often frequented only the weekends, and thus therefore wanted to do something for her during the week, which is what sparked this very moment. The way that he had viewed it specifically, it was kind of an apology. Like, “sorry that we are so busy and can only really do anything on the weekends, I hope this makes up for it”, kind of thing.

“Well, whether you expected it or not, you deserve it.” James tugged her towards the couch and ultimately, where the take out was laid out in front them. Ruby took in the sight and smell of the food, a smile growing on her. She turned her head to James to thank him, only to find him already staring. 

“Thank you.” She spoke softly, a smile matching the one currently on James’ face. 

“The pleasure is all mine, love.” He leaned over and captured her lips into a quick kiss, smiling against her lips before pulling away. 

“But.” Ruby started. “I’d say that we both deserve this.” He flashed her a smile. “You know? We are a couple doing couple things.” 

“What happened to being ‘bffs’ ?” James teased her, resulting in her rolling her eyes. “Careful now, roll your eyes any further into the back of your head and they might stay there.” It was silent for seconds before James spoke again. “Although, if you want, I can definitely give you a reason to roll your eyes into the back of your head.” He whispered softly. It resulted in his receiving a smack to his shoulder and him laughing out loud as Ruby became a blushing mess. 

The two sat in silence and ate their food, often breaking said silence to ask how their day was, even if it always tended to be the same thing throughout the week. Attending classes, doing homework, turning in assignments, and so on. It was a never ending cycle throughout the semesters. 

“My parents did call me earlier though in between classes.” Ruby mentioned, before shoveling more food into her mouth. 

“Did they now?” James looked at Ruby, giving her a look of amusement as she hurried to chew her food so that she could respond. He let out a short laugh. “Slow down. I don’t need you choking and dying on me” 

She gave him an embarrassed smile after she finally finished chewing and swallowed. “Sorry. Anyways, they invited us to dinner next weekend. I told them I would talk to you and that we would see where we were with classes.” James nodded, agreeing. 

“That sounds like a good plan. Your sister won’t use me as another mannequin for her suit designs will she? I felt like I was a human pin cushion last time.” Ruby snorted, taking a sip of her beverage. 

“Hopefully not. But I can’t make any promises. You know her. She prefers the real thing over the fake thing, no matter how many times it’s suggested that she gets one. She’s stubborn.” 

“Oh. Much like you then.” James flashed her a cheeky smile, receiving another playful punch to his shoulder. He feigned being hurt, rubbing his shoulder. “Oh, you wound me so.” Ruby only rolled her eyes, a smile on her face. Then she blushed, remembering James’ earlier comment, and it had seemed that he had also remembered it, a smug smirk on his face. 

Once the two were finished eating their dinner, they had reclined back to watch a movie. James was laying on his back, his head tilted towards the tv screen, his eyes dancing across the screen as he watched it. Ruby laid on his chest, her ear pressed against his chest, hearing not only the movie that was playing, but also heard the prominent beating of James’ heart. Her fingers rubbed gentle circles on his clothes chest. One of his hands rested on the small of her back, while the other slowly and gently played with her hair.

 They had put on some romance comedy. Ruby was the only one paying much attention. James was also paying attention, but his mind was split between watching the movie and thinking about his life with Ruby. A small smile graced his lips. 

Sure, they’re relationship had gone through its ups and down, especially during their time at Maxton Hall, but they were at their happiest in this moment, that much was known, and he would do anything to keep things as they were. 

taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[suzyq31]

A little slice of bittersweet

A micro that grew rapidly out of control, whoops! @jilymicro-oops. I've wanted to write a larger piece for ages centered around this type of premise (ie one of them lives). Reading KSFM by @nodirectionhome-ao3 has only cemented this desire. Not sure whenever I'll get to it, or what it may end up looking like, but it was fun to play with this for now. Thanks for the inspiration Cam! I definitely borrowed a bit from your Lily here. Also some inspiration comes from the book Bittersweet which had a really cool chapter about the making of the film Inside Out.

Prompt: Inadequate

 Lily always found it hardest to be with herself when the house fell quiet. Rain fell against the window pane, blurring the reddened trees in their back garden. She rested her forehead against the cool glass, her breath adding to the condensation. She wrapped the throw tighter around herself, shivering from the coldness seeping through the pane, matching her insides. 

It was the same every year, the sudden turn of season that never failed to catch her off guard. A natural reminder that time continued, and that another year had passed in a daze. One that felt simultaneously slow and quick. 

Her eyes closed. Even moving across the country, the memory of Godric’s Hollow haunted her, following her all the way to Brighton. Her last view of it was one of charred ruins. Then there were the other images, the ones that made her wake with a scream caught in her throat night after night.  Tears burned, hot and prickling, and she wiped them away as they came. 

She could picture him now, knew he would encourage her to get up, put a record on and get to it. He’d pull her up with his large hands, saying something ridiculous to break her out of the ruminating she’d always been good at.  When she quieted herself enough, she could almost hear it, the timber of his voice saying her name; how James had always been able to say so much with just those two syllables. 

A creak on the stairs brought her back to the present. She glanced over her shoulder towards the hallway where the staircase was just visible. Between the banister was a small face, a mop of dark hair falling into green eyes that blinked at her sleepily in the faint light.

Despite the ache in her chest, she smiled. “You’re up.”

Harry remained silent but continued his descent. In his hands was the blue crocheted blanket Mary had made him in another lifetime, golden snitches stitched into the edges. His bare feet padded softly on the hardwood until he reached where she was perched on the built in window seat. Without any prompting she reached down and scooped him up, enveloping him in her arms and tucking him amongst the fold of the fuzzy throw blanket. His body was soft and pliable with his leftover sleepiness. Lily breathed in the sweet smell of her son, growing warmer with him there . 

“Did you have a good nap?” she asked against his neck. 

Harry shrugged his small shoulders, burrowing further into her.

Lily stroked his silky dark hair, the exact same texture and look as James’s. Most of the time these reminders were manageable, wonderful even. She was grateful that he’d left a part of himself behind. But at that moment her already tender heart squeezed like a vice in her chest. 

She closed her eyes and willed the tears to stay put.

Eventually Harry pulled back and she opened her eyes to find his combing over her features, hot little hand coming  to her cheek, voice gravelly from sleep. “Are you sad?”

Lily’s breath hitched as she stared into his face. Of course Harry didn’t just look like his father. Even at three he so eerily read her moods—despite how hard she worked to keep the worst of her grief tucked away from him.

Harry’s brow furrowed and Lily released a breath, taking his hand in hers she pressed a kiss to the back of his dimpled fingers. “A little,” she said softly.

His brow furrowed further. “Mummy, you have to be happy.”

Lily stilled, heart skipping at the certainty in his tone. Another trait he shared with James. She brushed the fringe of his wild hair and kissed the soft skin of his forehead.

“I am happy,” she replied. She touched the apple of his cheek, already less full then they’d been a year ago. “Sometimes grown ups feel happy and sad at the same time.”

Harry seemed to think this over. “How?”

“That’s a good question,” she said, her throat tight even as she couldn’t help smiling at Harry’s intense expression, this side of him the one that was more like her. “I don’t really know. I like to think as we get older and our bodies grow…you can hold more feelings inside you at once.”

“Because you get bigger?”

A wet laugh caught in her throat. “Maybe.”

She didn’t have the first clue how to really answer him. How did you explain to someone so young the way that the years built up around you, unexpected and hard won in many cases. That like a muscle, your ability to carry it all grew stronger, mainly because there was little other choice. Grief wasn’t exactly something you set down.

She continued to run her fingers through Harry’s hair, willing herself to think. She had a pile of books on how to talk to children about death and loss. Purchases she’d made out of desperation when Harry had begun speaking in more complex sentences, which had soon turned into questions she felt completely inadequate to answer.

Really, that was the matter of it all. She felt inadequately up for the task of raising Harry without James. Trying to explain to him again and again why his father was gone. That there was a sadness inside her that would never leave. That a piece of them would forever be missing.

Then there was everything else that came along with parenting. The big emotions that often took hold of her young child, the curious questions that were only growing more frequent. James would be a million times better at answering them than her. At all of it. He’d always known what to say and do. He’d always been the light that kept them all going. 

She looked down at the crown of Harry’s head, now resting against her chest. All of James’s light shone through him. For Lily he kept the darkness at bay. She knew this was an unfair burden to place on a child. But it was true. He was the reason she kept going at all. The purpose that made her pry herself from bed each morning. Still, she wanted to do better. 

She pressed her lips to his hairline. “Do you remember when Padfoot brought you a new broom?” Harry tilted his head, eyes meeting hers before he gave a nod. “You were so excited and happy, but then what happened?”

It only took a second for her to read the memory in his eyes. “I fell down,” he murmured, “and my knee got blood on it.”

She remembered that afternoon clearly. The bittersweet feeling of watching Harry fly higher than he had in the past. His small body already so adept and confident. He’d flown in large circles around the forested garden surrounding the tiny cottage that had belonged to Remus’s parents in Wales. The entire time she’d been unable to avoid remembering James encouraging a tinier Harry on his first broom ride. The sheer pride on his face—that would still be on his face if life was fair. 

Not that she wasn’t grateful for Sirius, Remus and Mary, who were there to cheer him on, but James’s absence had been glaring and unshakable. Then Harry had taken a corner too fast, slamming his legs onto some rocks. 

Lily traced the side of his face. “How did that make you feel?” she asked quietly. 

Harry paused, squeezing his well loved blanket. “Sad… and scared.”

“I know sweetheart. You were hurt and that’s normal to feel. Do you remember what happened after though?”

He went still, then his eyes brightened. “We ate ice cream.”

Lily smiled. “Exactly. Uncle Padfoot saw that you were sad, so he cheered you up.” Harry nodded along and she tilted his chin so they were gazing at each other. “Sometimes sadness helps other people see that we need them.”

There was far more complexity to it than that, but she knew this type of conversation would happen over and over throughout her son’s life. She’d already had to explain difficult things to him, swallowing down the pain of Harry slowly forgetting his father outside of pictures and memories shared by her and others. Another cruel part of time passing. Though the memory of a much younger Harry searching repeatedly for James in the months afterwards had been its own agony that she would never want to repeat.

The pain was inevitable, and Lily didn’t have all the answers, but she was determined to do her best. She refused to have Harry be afraid of his feelings. James had been brave with his love. They would be too. 

Harry was quiet and she kissed the top of his head again. “It’s okay to feel sad, it doesn’t mean you won’t be happy too.”

“You’re happy now?” he asked and she smiled through the tears gathering in her eyes.

“I’m very happy to be here with you right now. But I’m also sad because I miss your dad today.” Harry nodded thoughtfully and she continued to run her fingers through his hair. “I also think my heart has grown a lot, so it can hold all of that.  Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Harry said softly. His small fingers fiddled with the buttons of her blouse. Lily let the rain fill the silence, hoping that she was saying the right things.

When Harry looked back up at her, there was curiosity shining in his eyes. “Mummy?"

"Yes, love?"

A smile tugged at his lips as his hands framed her face. "Do you need ice cream?” 

A hiccupped laugh escaped her and she hugged Harry tightly. All of the happiness and sadness swirling inside her as she felt the weight and feel of him. That the cheeky baby that James had known and loved was still there, even as he continued to grow and learn in leaps and bounds.

“You’re a bit of an ice cream monster,” she said finally, when she relaxed her hold.

He eyed her like he’d suspected her of having gone mad.  “No. I’m just Harry.” 

She taped his nose, smiling as she took in every detail of her sleep rumpled little boy. “Is that so? Alright, Just Harry…should we have a teeny tiny bite of the good stuff?”

His returning smile was all mischief, and right then the familiarity filled her with gladness. She stood up, hoisting Harry onto her hip, the blanket falling away. 

“Let’s get to it then.”

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 45

chapter 68:

1. “Some of those ashes could be Marlene.” bro wtf

2. listing out the names of the people who died in war destroyed me

3. james reacting to his father’s death by flinching away from effie had me broken. i’m destroyed. unwell

4. “The worst part is, when he says what he does next, it's not even a question. "After that, you're leaving."

Sirius' eyes flutter shut, and he croaks, "Yeah, Reggie, I'm leaving again."”

SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING IM UNWELL I WILL NEVER BE OKAY AGAIN!!! I WILL NEVER BE FINE AGAIN

5. “”Sirius, I love you more than anything. You're the first person in this world I ever loved at all. Not Mother, not Father, not James; it was you.”” STILL SCREAMING STILL CRYING STILL SOBBING STILL UNWELL

6. okay just all of the stuff with the black brothers has me in tears. their bond is unbreakable and my heart is in fact very breakable. i’m shattered over them

7. dorcas hasn’t left that spot in over twenty four hours and boy am i worried for her. she needs water. she needs to go pee, i’m sure. she needs to eat something and to rest

8. “Just not afraid to die, then?

No, I'm rather used to it, actually.”

STILL SCREAMING OVER MARLENE!!! STILL SOBBING ACTUALLY

9. “"You. Even you," Dorcas declares harshly, glaring at her. "I'd rather it be you. Instead of her, I'd rather you be dead."”

WOAH! hold up!!! i love marlene as much as the next gal, but nobody goes after my girl lily. she fought and fought and fought as well. she deserved to make it to this side of war too! she tried to keep marlene alive too. hold your horses dorcas.

10. 😧 did you just shoot my lily??? MY LILY??? holy fucking shit. she’s insane.

11. “Some of that blood must have been Marlene's. Dorcas wishes she had bathed in it; Dorcas wants to turn back time and drown in it.” 😟 i’m worried

12. “Never, through any of this, did [James] imagine losing his dad.” kill me. it would be more merciful than making me live after reading that

13. “Monty loved Sirius like a father did; Sirius is allowed to mourn him as a son would.” calling my freind again while sobbing brb

14. god I don’t know how to explain it, but every time pandora is mentioned and she’s alive i let out a huge sigh of relief

15. AROACE PANDORA SUPREMACY

16. i’m so horridly upset that lily lost almost everyone. she lost her family, she lost sybil, she lost kingsley, and dorcas tried to shoot her, so i’m pretty sure she lost her too. lily tried to not love anybody because she was scared of losing them, and sure enough, she was right

17. i get upset when everyone talks about going separate ways. i want everyone to live in one big town and live right next door to each other. i’m thinking hogwarts vibes (except better, ya know) or maybe the mansion they all lived in at the start of ahb!

18. as much as it upsets me that sirius is going to be leaving james and effie and regulus, i’m genuinely so happy that sirius is going to stay with remus

19. oh. i see why sirius has to leave. it’s best for everyone to heal a little before sirius sees his james and regulus again. because otherwise they won’t be able to heal

20. i love wolfstar, and this is so emotional but like, “Just—for right now, what I need is to be with you. I want—that's what I want.” all that does is remind me of high school musical with the “ALL I WANNA DOOOO IS BEE WITH YOU! ONLY YOU! NO MATTER WHERE LIFE TAKES US, NOTHING CAN BREAK US APAAAART, YOU KNOW ITS TRUE, I JUST WANNA BE WITH YOUUUU”

21. ““I wish I did love him that way," Regulus confesses, "because it would have been easier than this. It would have been easier to define how losing him feels, but it's not. James, it's not."”

god, i ache for him. like so badly. i so badly want him to have barty back. more than any other character. (sorry to marlene and monty and sybil and literally everyone else who died)

22. “It's still been three days since the end of the war, and Regulus wonders when they'll stop measuring the passage of time that way.” 😟

23. “Doomed to be a great, big tragedy.” *eye twitch* i’m fine. *even bigger eye twitch*

24. look, i know in the future, everyone will be together again and as happy as they can ever be. but rn, i’m sad

chapter 69:

1. “"I don't care!" Aberforth shouts. "I don't give a damn about your fucked up love story with our sister's murderer, Albus! The fact that you even came to love him to begin with sickens me, let alone that you continued to after he killed Ariana, and still do to this day!"” hell yeah put him in his place

2. “The dead sister card is a little underhanded, admittedly, but Aberforth knows a thing or two about manipulation tactics. He'd have to. Albus is his older brother, after all.” LMAOOOOOO

3. lily mentioning children and sirius and remus just locking eyes and panicking was so fucking funny. bro i’m wheezing

4. BRO AND THEN REGULUS BEING LIKE “you’ve??? never thought about kids??????? wtf??? me and james are having four you little loser??????”

5. dorcas just marching in has me so fucking scared ngl

6. oh god, dorcas became the president coin in this. she wants to make a new hunger games. oh god. oh no

7. as horrifying as it was to see sirius’ train of thought, him being the first one to say no is so fucking satisfying oh my god

8. good for remus fucking standing up for lily. everyone is blaming lily, and finally remus speaks up that the blame cannot rest on lily alone

9. 😧😧 not albus suggesting the jegulus wedding to help with the aftermath. bro he’s fucking insane. it’s so hallow-like of him to suggest that oh my god

10. oh my god dorcas has gone insane, is she about to tell everyone how albus was in love with grindlewald. that’s fucking insane oh my god i can’t wait

11. oh my god it’s even better. it’s that he came up with the rule for the quarterly quell. oh my god this is gonna be great

12. 😧 holy shit. sirius just killed albus. imma be so real, i expected one person to not leave that table, and i thought it would be dorcas, not albus. i thought she would be killed

13. minerva asking lily to be a medic and help save albus, and lily just not will forever be iconic to me

14. as a punishment they banned sirius from the hallow 😭😭😭 babes they knew they had to come up with some punishment as like a way to show actions have consequences, but they chose one that sirius would love 😭😭 that’s so funny to me bro

15. alberforth finally leaving his home is a very satisfying character arch

16. “this story is, first and foremost, about siblings—primarily sirius and regulus ofc—like that is the whole point of this fic, the core of it over anything else. and that feels right considering the source material, like in thg, it was always about katniss' love for prim and how important that was over peeta or gale or anyone else. and i just. i really adore that, and hope i paid a good homage to that, because i really admire it.”

you did. you did pay homage to that. it was abundantly clear that this was about siblings. and i love you for it. thank you, if you see this

alrighty six more chapters to go! i’m in the home stretch yall

[aconflagrationofmyown]

You’ve definitely become one of my favorite Elvis writers on here, Marina.

And I wanted to ask you, are you planning to do more Elvis series? Like a series of Hollywood!Elvis, where he fights to be a serious actor and falls in love with one his co-stars. Or more Elvis AU, since we already have Pirate!Elvis. For example Cowboy!Elvis. Spy!Elvis like a James Bond or Agent Elvis. Mafia!Elvis. Even a Superhero!Elvis.

I think you’d do such a good job bringing all those concepts to life 🤭

My sweet anon, thank you so much, what a kind thing to say, I’m so glad my writing has brought you joy. 💋🌸💋 As for AU’s I did start a series about Hollywood E, yet never finished it. And for now I’ve got riverboat Captain E and father figure E to chew and that’s a lot on its own…but never say never. I think this would be something I’d have to have pitched to me and see if it resonates? So far I’ve not fully cooked up anything else original that hasn’t been done better by others. I’m always happy to dish out recs, fyi.

BUT THAT SAID…I’m messing around with little snippets, a filthy fairytale in collaboration with @elvisabutler and this demented Regency Elvis headcanon below that “my sexy secretary” @ab4eva took down from a chat. Enjoy…

I Bet on Losing Dogs -🥀 A Regency Elvis Blurb

18+ blurb, warning sexual content ahead, arranged marriage, romance novella style stuff

Imagine this: Regency Elvis whose wife has recently left him for a foreigner, taking with her his only child -a daughter who cannot inherit. He needs an heir.

Zero promises of love or fidelity or even bare respect for his new wife but…there’ll be position and status and jewels so long as you perform your wifely duties without complaint.

Jaded and lonely, I need freshly betrayed Elvis buying off a nobleman for his daughter, a Baron who’s mortgaged his estate for debts, Mr. Presley gets the association with your family’s nobility and you get the much needed wealth that new money brings.

And so your new husband comes in nightly in an embroidered robe and a solitary lit candle to consummate your union. He’s got all that chest hair displayed and a lil ponch of a belly showing out his robe as he slowly undoes the tie every night, never rushed, and you can feel the jitters down to your toes every time as you hug the sheet to your chin.

*Let go, Darlin,* he’s always murmuring as he pulls the sheet from your grip, *must do what needs done*

He fucks you hard and fast for such a delicate woman and then tosses you spending money to make up for it.

Reminds you after each visit to yoru chambers that you have a job to do. One single job.

*Gimme that son and maybe you’ll get that sea bathin’ ya been hankerin’ for*

(Elvis is from Yorkshire if he was ever transported to an English Setting AU, ok? No question, unless the question is Irish versus Yorkish)

Each time, when he finishes and pants into the humid crook of your neck, his hand blindly strokes away your tears and he whispers in gravelly apology, *I’ll leave ya alone, moment ya start to swell, I swear it, I’ll leave ya alone lil girl*

But that’s not why you’re crying, you wish he’d stay, he doesn’t know how cold you get when he leaves you and his sweat and spend cools on your skin and leaves you shivering.

You could curse the woman who laid here before you, who broke his heart and still haunts this place, like the wall opposite the bed with its outline of a portrait missing on the sun-bleached wall.

You wonder what she looked like, this missing wife.

You wonder if she secretly craved the burning stretch of him like you do, possibly not if she left for someone more…continental. Was he too voracious for her? Or was it the loneliness that finally ate her through like the moths who try the same with the bed canopy.

One night, Mr. Presley’s hand slips from your shoulder down to your breast, very rarely does he maul you there except in his direst paroxysms of pleasure, but tonight he slips and grabs and it’s so sore you nearly cry aloud from the ache.

*I swear I’ll leave ya be* he had said and you bite your lip savagely, cinch your corsets cruelly and wonder how to make him love you, tolerate you even. Anything so that you’re not left alone like he promises.

Are your breasts sore from being with child? You worry so.

So the next night you scheme, and when he shakes atop you and catches his breath and makes to roll away, you grab hold of him and keep him close.

*Six months* you murmur, and he seems confused by your meaning, *six month’s you’ve visited me nightly save for menses and Lent, and no child to show for it. Won’t you stay? Nurse says if the man remains…after…the chances are greater.*

Ensuing cockwarming between two people who’ve barely spoken outside of bed…little chats…because neither can sleep and in fact, he doesn’t really sleep that much at all, he admits.

*what do you do then? At nights?* you ask.

He reads a lot, he tells you and he’s got a telescope, and you tentatively ask if he’ll read to you.

He agrees with a shy *i-if ya want that, I will*

About the books. You asks if he will tonight instead of leaving and he says yes.

Then he hesitates and asks lowly, *can we…once more?…before?*

He asks if he can do it again, before he grabs the books, because he firmed up again while acting as a stopper in your warm cunt.

You’re already a wet mess down there and perhaps he moves you around, spoons you.

Puts himself back in and you’re so wet from what he gave you before and your excitement at the intimacy you feel in this movement.

And due to the difference in angle, for the first time, you actually come from the feeling of your husband inside you. His flaming hot body behind you, his thick arms wrapped around your body, the delicious rub of him in your womb.

And you’re quite sure you’ve already made a child but he doesn’t need to know. Not yet.

Anything to keep him coming back.

[andreabaideas]

Rewriting...Volume I

Today I'm rewriting/ fixing the movie Every breath you Take :

~*Spoilers for that movie , obviously.....~*

Tw: death, abuse, infidelity, mental health issues, suicide, grooming, incest...etc.

1- No abuse on the toxic romantic relationship between James and Daphne, they are just an insane little family of two siblings here they would be real siblings, no fake identify shit...

Also if you lean into horror and fucked up things,  maybe there was an incestuous relationship between the siblings. Like...If it was in GoT , why not here?

 2- Screw that he IS lying : he can both be truthfull and a psycho, he can be a dangerous man and have his sister killing herself , that isn't incompatible. I would make him the avengeful insane -maybe incestuous- brother he pretended to be from the beginning , but for real,  that would've been better or at least more interesting.

3- He wouldn't had killed her, she suicides as she was depressive, and her therapy and therapist sucked ,like i felt Philip was grooming her?

It would work for the plot, and It would be logic.

4- Screw underage abuse , Lucy, well that teen was dumb and needy ,she needed love or at least kindness, so she has instead a one sided crush on the man that is nice to her. And He IS nice because she reminds him to his sister , that he loved waaay too much XD. No relationship with an underage, ugh.

5 - Screw the mistreatment he did on Grace (the wife) on that car , instead of that, she enters his car, they confess their undying love, and then they run away together...They felt in love first because they both lost someone they loved (son and sister respectively) and they bonded for that.

Also I think Its a way better revenge to steal the wife to make Philip lose the woman he loves, just like he did. Also Philip keeps his daughter and has to deal with her, so he wouldn't be alone.

And I think that It would have been better than all the plot we got. They both Philip and James would be villains and heroes at the same time, you wouldn't know Who to root for, thats how complicated fucked up scripts get done. Ambiguity works wonders.

It would be more interesting.

Thats It

[demigodofhoolemere]

Things I can’t stop thinking about from Jamie and Zoe’s Tales of the TARDIS episode

- The very concept of them remembering and seeing each other again in general.

- How pointed it is in calling their mindwipe unforgivable and insisting that they’ll definitely never forget again. I get the feeling RTD or someone else involved in the writing of it has been carrying a grudge against their ending for decades and used this as therapy lol. Relatable.

- The recorder and the reverence with which they both treat it. 🥺

- “I missed him every day of my life. Didn’t even realize it.” 😭

- “I’d still be with him now if I could, trying to keep up with him.” This line hits so hard both because Jamie truly never would have left and because Frazer has said this same thing about himself and Pat, that they’d still be doing it if he were alive and if they hadn’t both been convinced that it was time to leave. My heart.

- This is true of these episodes generally but I love so much that they both had happy and fulfilling lives. Jamie got to have a wonderful big family and Zoe was still able to keep her growth from her travels and escape just being “all brain and no heart”.

- ZOE NAMED HER SON JAMES. NOBODY LOOK AT ME.

- ^ Jamie’s reaction to the above. The way his face and voice go so soft, I can’t deal with it.

- The fact that they were still influenced by their experiences even if they couldn’t remember them. Especially meaningful for Zoe because she needed those experiences so badly, so it’s a relief to see that she was able to use them and carve out a happy life for herself because of them even if she couldn’t remember. It brings such a happy bit of closure to the Doctor’s concerned question, “She’ll be alright, won’t she?”

- “I want to forget about the Cybermen!” with Jamie’s shifty eyes of disdain, lol. I bet he does considering he had to see them more times than any other companion!

- Lovely to hear names like the Krotons and the Quarks, along with a classic Jamie-ism in “wee little beasties”.

- I like the specific reference to Jamie’s face mishap lol. It was probably just to bring up a funny part of the story they just reviewed but it also serves as a nice shoutout to Hamish Wilson who passed a few years ago.

- “Well, who’d’a thought? President and a Highlander sharing stories.” That highlights something I love about the 60s era of the show, how you get people from so many times and places who never would have known each other but come to mean the world to each other. Jamie and Zoe couldn’t be farther from one another in time or background and they never should have met but here they are, both sharing so much love for the other and having had a bond so strong that Zoe subconsciously named her son for him.

- Jamie’s, “I could get used to this,” and happy wiggle in the chair, lol. That felt very Jamie and reminds me of his amusing character arc wherein he becomes more and more attached to future conveniences or technologies or comforts. I bet you could easily get used to it, Jamie!

- Jamie suddenly destroying the vibe by wondering if they could be in Heaven, rofl.

- Hearing them talk about Victoria made me so emotional, partly for the characters and partly because Debbie’s passing is still in fairly recent memory and it very much felt just as much like a tribute to her as for the character. I lost it over Jamie’s emotional face and hoping that she had a nice life. It felt so painfully real, an old man looking back on a girl he once knew and loved in his youth and hoping she lived well.

- These two, generally. I love them so much and this was so healing.

[diana-bookfairchild]

Reading Cast Long Shadows post The Last Hours freaking SLAPS.

Matthew’s usual good humor had already been sorely tried. His best friend, James, was being blamed for the incident, simply because James happened to have a tiny, insignificant amount of demon blood and the— Matthew thought prodigiously lucky—ability to transform into a shadow. James was being expelled. The actual people to blame, unmitigated wart Alastair Carstairs and his rotten friends, were not being expelled.

Prodigiously lucky, indeed. Also, one of your other best friends has a crush on that unmitigated wart. That's why he idolizes him.

While I'm sure the James and Matthew's reactions to Thomastair at this point would be both hilarious and devastating, I'm really glad it didn't come out till The Last Hours when they're more different, more willing to acknowledge that Alastair might be different from the boy they knew.

I think I've seen a fic or two dealing with Gideon and Sophie finding out that their son's boyfriend had spread rumours about Gideon and Charlotte. They're always fun when done well.

Matthew’s smile spread. It was an extraordinarily engaging expression. His warmth was closer to the surface than Charlotte’s, Jem thought. He had never been taught to close himself off, to do anything but delight and trust in the world.

My poor Matthew.

His generation had suffered so they could bring the next one forth into a better world, but now it occurred to Jem that those children, taught to expect love and walk fearless through shadows, would be shocked and betrayed by disaster. Some of them might be broken. Pray disaster never came.

Yeah, Jem, because that always works.

Matthew had his doubts about Cordelia Carstairs. Lucie was going to be parabatai with Cordelia one day, when the Clave decided they were grown-up ladies who knew their own minds. Lucie and James were acquainted with Cordelia from childhood adventures that Matthew had not been part of, and which Matthew felt a bit jealous about. Cordelia must have some redeeming qualities, or Lucie would not want her for a parabatai, but she was Alastair Loathly Worm Carstairs’s sister, so it would be strange if she was entirely amiable. “She sent me a picture of herself in her latest. This is Cordelia,” Lucie continued in tones of pride. “Is she not the prettiest girl you ever saw?” “Oh, well,” said Matthew. “Perhaps.” He was privately surprised by the picture. He would have thought Alastair’s sister might share Alastair’s unpleasant look, as if he were eating lemons he looked down on. She did not. Instead Matthew was reminded of a line in a poem James had read to him once, about an unrequited love. “That child of shower and gleam” described the vivid face laughing up at him from the frame exactly.

Poem about UNREQUITED LOVE. As much as I hated the Matthew/Cordelia/James love triangle (though can it really be counted as one, since I don't think many people actually believed Matthew had a chance, not in the least Matthew?) this is so on the nose.

Matthew suspected he had a secret love. He sometimes wondered whether James would have confided in him if he had been a different sort of person, more seriousminded and dependable.

The Mask! And more evidence that Matthew's self-esteem issues long preceded the incident.

Matthew decided to give unrequited love a try. He stared out the window with all the pensive force he could muster. He was preparing to pass a hand across his fevered brow and murmur, “Alas, my lost love,” or some other such rot when he was abruptly rapped upon the head with a book

With how much he ponders on unrequited love, is it a wonder he gets into it so often? Especially with the self-esteem issues like thinking James wouldn't have asked him to be parabatai if he hadn't done it first (and I don't think he would have, from what I remember of Nothing But Shadows but not because of Matthew not being good enough, but simply not imagining the prospect).

When Jamie was a little boy, he had his own beloved special spoon. The family always reminisced about this. It embarrassed Jamie to death, especially when Uncle Gabriel presented him with a spoon at family gatherings. Uncles thought all sorts of sorry jests were a fine idea. Jamie kept the spoons Uncle Gabriel gave him. When asked why, he said it was because he loved his uncle Gabriel. James was able to say such things with a sincerity that would shame anyone else. After James said that, Uncle Will loudly asked what was the point in even having a son, but Uncle Gabriel looked touched.

This is nothing to do with TLH, I just love this so, so much. Though reading the part about Gabriel not understanding Christopher is hard post knowing about Christopher's young death.

Charles had bolted out of his chair and was shouting for help. He turned back in the doorway, staring at his parents with a wretched expression that was very unlike him. “I knew how it would be, Portaling back and forth from London to Idris so that Matthew could be near his precious parabatai—”

Blaming Matthew for something he has nothing to do with, when Matthew is actually looking for guidance?? Really, Charles? And I thought his behaviour towards Alastair and Ari was bad enough.

James would not let his parabatai travel any shadowy paths alone. No matter what catastrophe came, Jem believed the son had as great a heart as his father.

James does have a heart like that, as much as The Midnight Heir might have advertised otherwise (and even then, James' cruelty was from sorrow and his supposed damnation). And yet Matthew did have to travel shadowy paths alone, for a long time, until finally he didn't, thanks to the Gracelet and the Mask.

But at least ultimately he had a somewhat happy ending. I can't wait to read the Matthew novella.

Bonus from Every Exquisite Thing:

He had been like this a lot in recent weeks—what was fun and light about Matthew had taken on an edge. On some level, she felt a bit of worry rising. But this was Matthew, and he did not do well under confinement. Perhaps the summer night had just gotten his spirits particularly high.

[thistuesdaynight]

You're Good

Jegulily angst guys, I wrote another sad one, whoops

It was two in the morning when Lily woke to find a ribbon of light shining from beneath the closet door.

Her heart anchored into her stomach, and she was wide awake in an instant. It had been 2 months, 3 weeks, and 5 days since they'd had a night like this. Secretly, she'd hoped they had gotten past it. But some demons were hard to exorcise.

Lily slipped from the bed, her feet silent on the wood floor as she crossed the room.

"James!" she hissed, shaking him awake.

"Wha-" James startled, blinking up at her.

But when Lily tilted her head to the closet door, he sobered quickly. They stood together outside of the closet, knocking to let Regulus know they were out there.

He didn't always answer right away. Sometimes, he'd keep the door locked until morning and when he emerged, he'd refuse any comfort. But Lily and James stayed up with him no matter what. Whether he opened the door or not, they were there.

"Reg, sweetheart. Open up, please," James coaxed.

The silencing charm fell, and they heard a sniffle and a thin voice from behind the door.

"I'm alright."

Lily hated when he sounded like this. Like he was trying his hardest just to not break apart. She preferred him any other way: cold, superior, terse. Never like this.

"It's okay to not be alright, love. We just wanna be here for you."

A tense silence followed, with more sniffling and hushed sobs. Lily found it troubling how he locked himself in there when his mother had often used it as punishment. He still got nightmares sometimes. About his mother, about being tutored by his cousin Bellatrix, and about being trapped as the Black family heir with no way out.

Finally, the lock clicked, and the closet door opened a crack to reveal Regulus' pale and tearstained face.

He looked so small that Lily didn't even think before crawling to him and gathering him into her arms.

"Oh, sweetheart." James joined them too, tucking himself against Regulus' back and nuzzling his nose into his neck.

Regulus was shaking from head to toe, and Lily rubbed her hands up and down his arms to remind him that they were there. They were there and they weren't going anywhere.

"I don't deserve it. I don't deserve this."

"Yes, you do," Lily said firmly. "We love you so much and you deserve every bit of it."

She pressed kisses into his hair, wishing that she could get him to believe it. She knew what it was like to live in a family that didn't love you for who you were. A family that was trying to put you into boxes where you didn't fit. It was different of course, not violent. But she and Regulus had always seen themselves in each other. They had both spent so much time contorting themselves to be what they thought everyone wanted, that it resulted in estrangement from the people that they loved most: their siblings.

"She said... she said that..." Regulus spluttered between heaving breaths. "I- I was bad, and…"

"She's wrong, Regulus." James assured him. "She's a liar, and she never deserved having such a wonderful son."

"You're not bad," Lily smoothed her hands down his cheeks, wiping away tears. "You're good. You're so good, I promise."

"I want to," Regulus sobbed. "I want to be good."

"You are, sweetheart. You are."

He didn't believe it yet, but James and Lily would tell Regulus every day until he did.

[verypersonalscreencaps]

INTERVIEW WITH LESLEY MANVILLE ABOUT WORLD ON FIRE S2 How important was it to do a second series of World on Fire? We always intended to return. Of course, we made the first series back in 2018 which screened in 2019 - and we all know what happened then! But we’re back and the scripts are just so lovely and rich, with new characters coming in. Robina is again holding the fort with all sorts of family problems she couldn't possibly have foreseen. Robina has some fantastic lines - you must love playing her. I do! I think that Peter’s written her so well and he's surpassed himself this time - she's got some corkingly good lines that are so arch. Robina is so deliciously posh, eaten up by the protocol of everything. There’s also something more than a little theatrical about her. She reminds me of one of those women in a Restoration or Feydeau farce. I mean, obviously, I can't play her quite that large, tempting though it is sometimes... Is that why you enjoy playing her, the way in which she’s suffering in silence, putting up emotional barriers? Peter has written some really moving scenes, but Robina is eaten up with a conviction that you mustn't show your emotions, you're not tactile, you can't hug anyone, not even your own family. These are the unspoken rules handed down through the generations. She finds it really difficult to show her son, Harry, love and affection - but she's broken when she sees news footage of the soldiers fighting out in Cairo, wondering if he’s dead or alive. It's a very rich tapestry of emotions. There are also some lovely funny bits, which are delicious to play, because she's steeped in class snobbery, but you can't help liking her. She's a real person with deep feelings and emotions but they’re buried, buried, buried… Robina is very protective of Jan and baby Vera, showing wonderful tenderness. Jan is now living with Robina who finds herself becoming the mother she never thought she would be. Obviously, she's not young, but she realises that being a surrogate mother is as important as being a real, biological mother - and she's also looking after her baby granddaughter, Vera. She might have been a terrible mother, but she's turning into a really good grandmother and grows to love Vera. She also feels very strongly that Lois should not have abandoned her daughter, however much she didn’t want to be a mother. But Robina picks up that baton and takes on the challenging responsibilities of looking after a new-born baby. Robina is very direct and doesn't mince her words, as is Kasia who comes to live with her. How does that work out? Robina doesn’t rate her daughter-in-law very highly as a woman. In her view, being married comes with lots of responsibilities, whilst Kasia just wants to go off and fight - which isn’t what women do. All of this is making Robina question everything - she realises that she was an unhappy wife, an unhappy mother – but now she sees these young women doing it all differently which leaves her in a state of emotional chaos. Tell us about Sir James, the suave, sophisticated man who arrives at Robina’s door. Sir James, played by Mark Bonnar, is very gently wooing Robina, and she's not prepared for that at all. At first she’s wary - he's a good guy who's a bit edgy. But that makes her like him even more. He's definitely a smooth operator, pulling out all the stops… he’s also a bit younger than me which makes me look really good! And there’s a different look to her this time around… Robina’s been flirted with for five minutes, so she's let her hair down – literally! Can you describe the relationship between Robina and her son Harry? If only Robina could hold Harry and tell him: “You’re my son and I love you” - but she’s incapable of doing that. She's also very disappointed in him because he's got a ‘factory girl’ pregnant and a Polish wife who really doesn't want to be married to him. If there was one thing Robina expected in her life, it was that it would be linear and clean, but there are frayed edges and messiness everywhere - and in her opinion, Harry is the cause of all of that chaos. There are lots of period dramas – what makes World on Fire special? World on Fire is unique because it deals with so many different storylines meaning you see the war from many angles, from very personal, private, small stories to great big epic tales and you see what those people fighting on the front lines were going through. Characters like Robina feed in a bit of light relief which I think is needed in a drama about a horrific subject. But it’s a timely story and one we must never forget. WORLD ON FIRE SEASON 2 (Premiere on July 16, 2023, on BBC One)

[welldonebeca]

I could have chosen you (and yes, I would) - 5

WC: 950+ words Warnings: Tension. Angst.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

You watched with near-suspended breath as your things were loaded into the Royal Ship.

Your centre was still sore from the night. Just the morning after your wedding, you were leaving with your new husband to his home.

“I will certainly miss you, ma’am,” Anne declared, her voice a little affected as she spoke, sniffing as she hugged you.

“Are you sure you can’t come with us?” you asked, squeezing her hand. “They might let you if you ask.”

It was something had practically begged your father - after your engagement was settled, and you knew you had to move - but your stepmother was insistent she needed Anne, and that your husband would hire as many ladies-in-waiting as you wanted or needed.

As if Anne was replaceable and just a lady-in-waiting, and not your closest friend, not the one person who stayed by your side when your family changed.

She sniffed and kissed both of your hands.

“I can’t,” she lamented. “I would go if I could. Your family needs me, and my family is here too.”

You nodded, sad, and she continued to look at you, eyes watery and lips trembling a little.

“I’ll miss you,” she told you. “We will miss you very much.”

You shook your head, not quite believing the second part of her words.

Still, you let her go and then turned to hug and kiss your little brothers. Along with Anne, they were probably the only ones who would actually miss you. But they were young. Soon, you’d be forgotten, just another sister living far away.

It would be a long, long time until you met them again.

You waved goodbye, and looked at your husband when he came to your side, taking his arm and stepping into the ship with him.

The cool wind blew on your face, and you were grateful that he had reminded you to dress up for colder weather. You two stopped, and you looked down on the water.

An ocean would separate you now.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked softly, resting a hand on your waist.

You looked at James, and then your family.

Your little brothers were sniffing and crying, waving goodbye to you as your stepmother embraced them in comfort. She was a good mother to them. Just not to you.

Your father was watching you with a hardened face, and you wondered what was in his mind.

You were the last daughter to leave. Your sisters were spread around the continent now, living their own lives.

Would he miss you? He never seemed to miss them.

“Will I ever be?” you asked.

He sighed and shook his head.

“Never,” he told you.

You looked at James and then down, closing your eyes for a moment.

How many people had he left behind? You didn’t know anything about your husband, and he wasn’t eager to share either.

Who did he have to say goodbye to before departing to fight for his King? A wife, who was now dead? A bride who didn’t wait for him?

Parents? Siblings?

All you knew was that he had no child yet, son or daughter. He wouldn’t have married you if he did.

“We can go,” you decided, at last.

He squeezed you a little, and you looked back at him.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Yes, please.”

James nodded and stepped away from you, probably to tell the captain you were ready.

You stood alone when you felt it moving under you, and Peter and William sobbed into his mother’s skirt, making your eyes water too, and you held back your tears as you waved goodbye to them.

James moved to your side, and took your free hand in his, squeezing it tightly, but said nothing to you.

Eventually, he left your side, but you stayed until you couldn’t see your family or the pier anymore, and closed your eyes when the wind blew on your face again, nearly freezing.

Just then, you walked inside.

Your cabin was beautiful, warm and as comfortable as a cabin on a ship could be.

The way wasn’t supposed to be long, the continent wasn’t too far.

You sat on your bed and looked out the little window by your side. You were surrounded by water, officially.

Maybe it would be nice. A good change.

You raised your eyes when you heard a soft knot on your door, and your husband opened it.

“Are you settled?” he asked.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

“Could you come out with me?” he asked. “Your Lady-in-Waiting is waiting.”

You stood up quickly, confirming, and followed him out.

The Lady waiting in front of you was on the younger side. A brown-haired girl, probably dressed in her country’s fashion.

“Lady wife,” James looked at you. “This is Lady Cassandra Lang. She is going to assist you during our journey.”

You nodded, and she curtsied briefly.

“Nice to meet you,” you greeted her.

“I know she is just one lady,” he told you, sounding a little embarrassed. ‘But it’s a short way there. I don’t mean to leave you unassisted, I’ve hired more people.”

“Thank you,” you looked at him. “I’m sure Lady Cassandra can fulfil her duties properly in this short journey. Anne was my sole Lady in Waiting at home, and she did just fine.”

Lady Cassandra confirmed shortly, and James cleared his throat.

“Well, I will be on my way now,” he told you two. “I have to speak to the captain and the crew. Make sure things are functioning properly.”

You nodded, watching him go, and then turned to Cassandra.

“Well…” you looked for words. “Do we have plans for this afternoon?”

She looked at you for a bit of time, and then pointed in a direction inside.

“Well, I brought games,” he told you. “Cards. Chess.”

You nodded slowly.

“Lead the way,” you decided. “Please.”

. . .

"i could have chosen you (and yes, i would)" was posted on my Patreon in October 2022 and is fully posted on my page. To read it before anyone else, consider subscribing! It's just $2 a month and it helps me a lot during these hard times.

. . .

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[trashpandato]

Treats and Collars

Hey, can you take care of the till for a few minutes? I have a mom and son who want a fish.”

Kara nodded. 

“Sure thing.”

Winn grinned and practically bounced towards the young mother hovering near the fish tanks and Kara shook her head smiling. He was about to put on a show and she knew how much he loved this, helping newbies with their first foray into the world of freshwater fish, tanks, and all the accessories needed to introduce a pet fish to the family. She caught the first two sentences of Winn launching into his signature speech about the wonderful world of goldfish and their friends before she turned towards the checkout counter.

The pet store wasn’t particularly busy that afternoon. It was a Wednesday, too late for the people who came in on their lunch breaks to pick up supplies, and too early for the after-work crowd. It gave Kara some time to organize the selection of cat and dog treats they kept right near the checkout area to encourage last minute impulse purchases. 

She lost herself in the task. She loved this job, this store. At first, she had only agreed to work here part-time as a favor to James when he opened the store a few years ago. It had seemed like a strange step for him at the time. He’d left his job as a photographer for a local newspaper, saying that he was tired of taking endless photos of the mayor and his cronies, chasing one ribbon-cutting photo-op after another. Kara had understood, having listened to many of his rants about his job over the years. But the move to open a pet store had been unexpected nonetheless, prompting some pointed remarks from James’ friend group and his sister. Seeing the initial pushback he was faced with, Kara decided to be a counterweight to that and offered her support and her time for a few shifts here and there. And sure, maybe some of her motivation at the time was that she liked James, as in liked liked him, so spending more time around him seemed like a good idea. But even after they both decided to be friends and only friends, Kara stuck to her commitment to help him out.

Three years later, she was still here and loved every minute of what had turned into a full-time gig instead of the occasional shift here and there. Eliza sometimes questioned Kara’s motives for working at the store and reminded her that she had completed college with excellent grades and had every opportunity to find a real career. And Kara agreed with her. She wasn’t planning on working here for the rest of her life. But for now, and until she had a clearer idea for what to do next, this job was perfect. She got to meet new people every day, help them with their questions about the various pet products they sold, and best of all, many customers brought in their dogs to help them pick out food or treats or a new toy, which meant that on any given day, Kara got to interact with at least one dog, often more.

Best job ever.

Kara was very good at it, too. The store had many customers, mostly those with dogs or cats at home, who would come in specifically asking for her. Winn, on the other hand, was the go-to guy for folks looking for fish or reptiles, and Kara happily deferred to his expertise in those cases. Overall, many of their customers would travel well out of their way to come to the store simply because they cherished Kara’s and Winn’s friendly and knowledgeable service, a fact that prompted James to hang a large banner in the store about a year after they opened that proudly declared it to be the Best in the Galaxy. It was a little over the top maybe, but Kara still smiled when James hung it up with a broad grin on his face.

So yes, Kara loved her job, loved interacting with customers, especially the four-legged ones, and she always made sure to keep a jar of high-quality treats near the cash register so she could hand them out to the dogs that came to the store. She was in the middle of refilling said jar when she noticed a new customer approaching the checkout area and immediately launched into a well-worn routine before the person had even fully stepped up to the counter.

“Hi, welcome to Super Pets. Did you find everything you were looking for?”

Where Kara usually received a clear yes or no answer, the woman who now stood in front of her merely let out a small chuckle.

“Super Pets. Who on earth came up with that name?”

Feeling somewhat defensive, Kara straightened her shoulders and made eye contact. The woman was young, around Kara’s age, and for a moment Kara wondered if she was some famous celebrity, mostly because she was hiding half of her face behind a pair of oversized expensive-looking sunglasses. But even without seeing her eyes, Kara could tell the woman was beautiful. Long dark hair, pale skin, a sharp jaw and bright red lips that held a small smirk that made Kara’s stomach feel funny.

“I mean, presumably you are here to buy something for your pet, who you love and who is awesome. Some might even say super. So…”

The smirk on the woman’s face bloomed into a proper smile and Kara couldn’t help but smile right back.

“But if you really want to know, my friend James, who owns the store, came up with the name. Though I would say it was a bit of a group effort that involved a few friends, too many drinks and some board games.”

“Ah,” the woman said, amusement clear in her voice ”so the name was properly tested in a focus group.”

Now it was Kara’s turn to chuckle.

“Sure. Let’s go with that.”

The woman nodded, still smiling, and slid a dog leash towards Kara before pulling out her wallet to pay for it.

Kara didn’t know why she had to make a comment about it. Maybe it was because she felt a little dazed from their little back-and-forth so far, or maybe she didn’t want their interaction to end too quickly, so as she pulled the leash towards her to scan the tag, she said:

“And who’s this for?”

The woman paused for a few seconds, long enough for Kara to wonder if she had crossed a line, said something wrong, though she couldn’t imagine why her simple question might have come across as offensive. But then the woman leaned forward a little, as if she was about to share an important secret.

“Oh, it’s for bad girls who don’t behave.”

Read the rest on AO3

[izzythehutt]

Hello! I just wanted to say that I really love In the Black and Black Mask! I adore your take on the Black family because to me it makes so much more sense than the usual Walburga and Orion casually Crucio-ing Sirius at every mistake take. I really enjoy seeing how history tends to repeat itself in terms of familial relationships, because it's something I see often on families. Also most of their relationships with one another are complicated, and never clear cut.

I loved the most recent chapter, it was honestly hilarious. Ted is absolutely the hero of this chapter, he's the only sane man there and I love how he takes the Blacks being well... The Blacks, in stride. Also Dora just latching onto Cygnus was wonderful and him getting offended when Dora said "but I thought you didn't like us?" was so funny. Seeing Walburga break down was so painful, I think in part because she always appears as strong. Sirius calling her Mama and then hugging her was so wholesome. Also, his 'Reason You Suck' speech to Arcturus had me gasping with both awe and horror in real life because all of these characters are so alive they feel like actual people. Your dialogues are absolutely brilliant, and so much of their personalities shine through from how they speak and react to things.

Also I absolutely love Colette, she's definitely someone who keeps Sirius grounded. Her touching his wrist and telling him to speak to James was so intimate, it felt much more intimate than a spicy smut things or things like that. It reminds me of Pride and Prejudice where there's not actually much PDA going on, but it's infinitely more romantic to me because you can feel the affection between these two people. Also, Colette just shamelessly kissing Sirius in front of everyone (including her own parents!) and calling him darling got me grinning.

I'm excited to see how her parents will react (her mother in particular), because Fabienne (I'm sorry I can't remember her mother's name) strikes me as not having much hope for Colette as long as she marries a respectable pure-blood wizard because she set her sights on Rabastan who is a second son, thus unlikely to inherit, instead of someone like Evan Rosier who is already the head of the family. But then Colette went and snagged the heir to one of the most powerful families in Britain.

I'm sorry for the long comments. Kudos <3

This is a very sweet comment! Thank you!

To be compared with Austen is so flattering, because tbh she is a major inspiration to me in general as a writer and storyteller and in particular for this story. I was re-reading a section of the story and realized that I had flat out stolen phrases from Austen/Austen adaptations (1995 P&P in particular.) Sorry, Jane!

Sirius's rant to Arcturus was peak Reasons You Suck speech, good use of the trope.

I'm glad you enjoy my interpretation, I find it far more interesting (and frankly, fun) than the popular fanon portrayals of over the top abuse and crucio-ing etc.

It's become a bit of a sticking point for me, because I've been accused directly/publicly of putting the blame for the dysfunctional family relationships on Sirius/white-washing abuse more than once. Which I resent, a bit—I don't think I've ever presented the Black parents as healthy or good (though they are entertaining in their problematic manipulativeness at times and I can't deny that I do occasionally play that for laughs.) What I've tried to show (with mixed success, clearly) is that Sirius's coping mechanisms are the product of their bad parenting and don't actually make him a happy/healthy person because he still loves his family, in spite of them being objectively awful. Which I think is probably relatable to many humans on the planet? There's a desire for a relationship with our parents.

As it's a version of characters who never appeared in canon, I would call my softening of them "alternative character interpretation", though I will maintain until the end of time that there's nothing in BSDU characterization directly contradicted by canon.

[faithfromanewperspective]

very long comedown snippet

(this was almost 6K words but I finally got out what I was thinking about re the midnight heir, mental health headcanons, and a bit of carstairs generational trauma)

“I did all that?” James looked horrified. Matthew, who had heard the story before and had had his time being horrified before coming to terms with it, simply said, “I told you there is a reason why we are parabatai. Several, actually.” He tried to school his face into nonchalance, which was hard while he felt Jamie’s distress through the bond—but that was all the more why it was important not to let it get to him too.

“There’s more,” Magnus said, “but perhaps I should spare you that for a later time. James, I knew your father when he was your age. It really isn’t that strange—I thought you were him when I first saw you, having not seen him for twenty-five years, until I remembered that most people don’t stay unchanged for twenty-five years. I even had to remind your parents that you are your father’s son.” He frowned. “Shall I keep showing you more recommendations for you honeymoon? Or was this for your travel year, Matthew, I admire your insistence on taking the idea of a ‘travel year’ literally rather than staying in one Institute for the whole time.”

Matthew was about to reply and ask for more recommendations, even though Magnus had already told him about nearly everywhere in the world, when James said, “Stuff the honeymoon. Stuff holidays. I can’t believe no one told me this. What else am I capable of doing, without realising it? Who else do I need to apologise to? I’m meant to be keeping mundanes safe. Someone should have told me if I end up doing the opposite on a night out while heartbroken under a spell, and I would have realised then that I’d do best to never touch alcohol.”

Cordelia half-tumbled off the bed where she was sitting next to James and left the room. The door slammed behind her, reverberating in the silence, and Matthew didn’t have to look at James to know he was spiralling into now-look-what-you’ve-done territory. He felt it, he’d spent too much of his life there himself. Fighting to be calm but just glad Jamie was there, neither of them alone, Matthew put a hand on his shoulder.

Magnus looked at the two of them, now the only ones left in the room, thoughtfully. Her father, Matthew belatedly realised. Alastair would have been mad at James, cutting words masking his fear and hurt from the past. But Cordelia, as much as he tried not to think about her—he didn’t think she had been exposed to most of it. Maybe this was it. Another thing she didn’t know, that made it difficult to trust those around her. Even now, Matthew could feel whatever Cordelia felt a little too strongly.

“Before you go after her, James,” said Magnus, “before you start promising not to drink or shoot things or hurt anyone, you might like to hear something I inferred from a tiny detail in what you said. You said you were under a spell? I assume it was from Grace?”

Matthew felt James stiffen as if he had been shot or doused with cold water. Then there was a pause as he did whatever breathing exercises calmed him down, and said, barely more than a whisper, “How did you know?”

“I went to visit her later that night. I was in London because Tatiana had asked for me—I noticed her enchantment when I saw her. I offered to help her get away—which she said no to as did you—” Magnus sounded tired as he said that, and Matthew wondered what else had happened that night. Perhaps reuniting with old friends after decades was often emotionally exhausting, especially when you’re only doing so to return their son home. He was starting to realise how much cause Magnus had to believe that Shadowhunters mostly just wanted to hurt him and take advantage of his services.

“—anyway, the spell may have influenced how you behaved. It’s a far shot, but I would not worry so much about how you behaved until we rule that out. The James I’ve gotten to know over the past seven months is not who I first assumed you to be.”

But sometimes it does happen, sometimes someone does act in ways that are not like themselves, even without magic or alcohol or opium, they just get deranged for a few days or hours or even weeks and return to themselves after, a little bit sad and tired, assuming they haven’t gotten badly hurt or in too much trouble. Matthew had good cause to know that, though he didn’t want to think about it. Surely not. Surely it couldn’t be—

“As for Cordelia, I trust that you know what she needs, and that you will do what is responsible and kind to her. Your parents should have told you what I told them, but I can see why that would have been a difficult conversation to have. I should never have left London so abruptly.”

Matthew was sick of people berating themselves for things they didn’t need to. “Magnus, you need not take care of us Shadowhunters all the time. Angel knows that you do enough good. Perhaps I shall berate Will and Tessa for you, Jamie, I remember how worried I was when we lost you as well. Perhaps they will berate me for losing you. But you did more than you had to, Magnus, you did more than enough. And we shall inform Jamie of his outrageous adventures another time, and keep planning more outrageous adventures that each of us will have, but I fear that we may both need to accompany my parabatai to check on his wife, or everyone will be unhappy.”

Cordelia wasn’t downstairs, she wasn’t in her room either or in the library with her cello or the drawing room. James felt like he had that day he’d found her in Shepherd Market, the rage and terror that had gripped him and the thought that if only he’d done better by her, if only he’d found out about the curse sooner, he might not have hurt her so badly she felt like she—but she hadn’t, he reminded himself, she had just been reckless and heroic, like she always was. And this time, he knew through the fog and terror and self-directed rage, she was probably more worried about him than the other way around. It wasn’t a helpful thing to think about at all, but what if he did hurt her, truly hurt her, what if she feared who he could be now that she knew some things he’d done that he had only just become aware of? He would rather die than hurt Daisy. Maybe that was part of the problem, simply another side to the coin. He remembered a time at Anna’s, the jarring pain of landing under her window and not being able to take it, all that he’d done wrong without ever realising. When had James become so violent?

“Breathe, Jamie,” said Matthew, and maybe it was good that he hadn’t found her yet. That she didn’t have to witness whatever was happening with him now. “Daisy will be fine.” But Matthew hadn’t seen her, hadn’t seen how absent she had been lately and the feeling of everything catching up James knew all too well reflected in his wife. “Think, Jamie, you know where she would have gone. Magnus checked, she took the carriage, where do you think she went?”

Not the Institute, Lucie wasn’t at home today: she and Jesse were spending time with Grace (James wondered how that was going).

“She’s at her mother’s house,” he said. “I’m almost certain.”

“Shall we walk then?” Matthew asked. “Cool off and all?”

James wanted to see Cordelia desperately, but walking was probably a good idea. She had the carriage, she was safe, and now he had to make sure he was in a fit state to talk to her. Magnus had appeared next to Matthew—surely he wasn’t going to come along? “I think that might be for the best,” he said. “But I simply cannot stand the way I’m going to keep thinking about it, Magnus, if you would be able to tell the rest of the story I would greatly appreciate that.”

“In that case,” said Magnus as they headed for the door, “why don’t you start by telling me what you do know of that night. It is possible also, in discussing this that we may find out whether there is any implication of the spell in your behaviour.”

Sona had just gotten Zachary down for a nap when she saw her daughter’s carriage pull up to the front gate. When she stepped out—alone, without James, she looked as if she had been crying. Sona hurried to the front door before Alastair or Risa could get there first. She met Cordelia on the steps, who, once enveloped in her mother’s arms, started crying again.

“Layla? What is wrong?”

There was a pause for a while as Cordelia regained her composure. “Maman,” she said, “after you married Baba, you said there was some time before you realised the extent of his troubles. How did you realise it, that he was a hero but he was also—” she hiccupped and her eyes started filling with tears again.

That was an odd question to ask, Sona thought, but perhaps, though she was able to talk more freely about what had happened in their family now than in years past, there was more that she needed to go over with Cordelia.

“I used to find bottles hidden around the house, and he’d have these headaches often, especially when I was pregnant with Alastair and sick early on, and he wouldn’t always be able to take care of me like he always promised he would. Is there any reason you wanted to ask, Layla? Did you find out something?”

After a short silence, Sona asked, “Layla. Please tell me—you came here in your carriage, crying, on your own. Did something happen with James?”

Cordelia just stood there, blinking back tears. Sona missed when she was a child, who would come to her for things still, before she found out about Elias and spent most of her time with her friends and now husband. Sona had learned a lot about being a mother since then, and relished every opportunity to show Cordelia any kind of support she could offer.

“Come on, let’s go inside to your old room and Risa will get us some tea. I always wanted you to follow your heart, and I can tell how much you love him. Just come on upstairs, and we can figure out whatever it is. You can figure it out, I will be here to listen and make sure you know I support you in whatever you do.”

Ten minutes and a warm blanket and tea from Risa later, Cordelia had stopped crying and she was sitting on her old bed next to Sona.

“Maman,” she said, “don’t worry, James hasn’t been drinking, that’s not why I was asking about Baba. But he’s sad, he’s so sad, we all are after Christopher, and he’s troubled because of his heritage and his time at the Academy and everything with Belial last year and being parabatai with Matthew who is unhappy too. And today we were planning out a nice honeymoon with Magnus to advise us, and somehow we ended up hearing a story of one time James was drunk, over a year ago now, some things that he did and he doesn’t even remember and now he’s freaking out and I just had to leave. I don’t know how to be there for him—I can’t even look after myself. I don’t want to be on the run like you and Baba. I’m worried for James and I’m worried for myself too.”

“Oh Layla,” Sona said, rubbing her daughter’s back like she was a small child again. She was reminded, oddly, of the time she and Elias had to take the Herondale children in while Will and Tessa were attending a series of meetings in Idris—meetings that had something to do with the status and potential powers of their children, though none of the children knew their specific purpose and Sona thought it best to keep it that way. She remembered the energetic little thing that Lucie had been, finding an injured blackbird which she had rescued from a fox and insisted they nurse back to health. She remembered James, quiet as always, walking into their house with a tall stack of books and the look of someone who was carrying far too much for a child so young. The pain in Will and Tessa’s eyes as they told her he had not been treated well at the Academy and just needed space and love in equal measure, and some things she probably shouldn’t mention as they would be bad reminders. Remembered him getting the fever—Cordelia had been worried for him then, too. The way he had said his goodbyes shyly after he was feeling better, and how much more sure of himself he seemed as a charming young man, now her son-in-law, when they moved to London. Sona would always have a soft spot for that boy, even though she was loyal to Cordelia. And he was still only seventeen.

“James is only a child, Layla, and so are you. And it’s normal to grieve, after losing such a dear friend. Angel knows that I have, even though I had your father for twenty years. I know you have been grieving for him too, and now for Christopher also. You have done a very adult thing, getting married, but both of you are still children, who still need to be cared for and allowed to make mistakes. Your father was forty when I married him, and had been an adult and a hero for many years before I knew him. We all have our troubles, Layla, his were worse than most—and yet what made things most difficult was that he would refuse to confide in anyone, refuse to let anyone in, to ever tell of his pain as well as his heroism. His tales of the Basilas were the same, how heroically he had healed himself—and I believed it, for a while, until Alastair told me what he had asked of James the night that he died. I still love him, but my feelings are mixed. If you should ever need understanding in that, I am here.”

“Thank you, Maman,” said Cordelia, and they sat in silence until there was a knock at the door.

Magnus had to admit he was curious as to James’ recollection of that night, curious as he had been that night when he had forsaken warmth and relaxation to chase after the boy fourteen months prior. Not that he was counting—but the realisation of just how welcome he was with the London Shadowhunters, once the shock of seeing the state of Tatiana and Grace and even James had worn off, had warmed him in a way he didn’t know he needed. So much that he’d packed up his New York apartment, leased it out to a mundane who could keep secrets for an outrageously low price, and gone to seek the places with kind and beautiful people for a few months before winding up back in London. James seemed to feel more comfortable with his eyes on the path ahead as he talked. Shadowhunters could get emotional, Herondales more than most, and they rarely did well sitting still. Magnus found the way they burned bright to be something of a contagion, restoring his own zeal for life, and it was why he had invited Thomas Lightwood to the party he had been called away from on emergency during his brief stint in Spain a year ago.

James, it seemed, was belatedly realising that he hadn’t recognised Ragnor from the Academy, even though he couldn’t think of a logical explanation as to why. He led them expertly through the streets towards South Kensington, seeming to actually prefer to be doing two things at once. He didn’t remember anything after introducing himself to Magnus, until flashes of being carried home to the Institute. So the warming spell Magnus had used had made him sharper as well—it often had that effect.

“I just remember seeing my parents and feeling this resentful despair, a feeling I can’t quite draw up a clear memory of, but I know I felt it. I could feel them worrying for me, and I just wanted it to stop. And then I was being coaxed off the sofa because Bridget had drawn a warm bath, and all of my clothes were wet. I remember sitting in the bath, wishing I could fall asleep then and there. Then Uncle Jem gave me some medicine when I finally went to bed and I woke up in the afternoon, a little more able to face the day. I’m missing a lot, Magnus, what else did I do?”

So Magnus told the story, this time not leaving out the details he hadn’t given to Will and Tessa. He still remembered it clearly: it was an odd fever dream of a night, not the oddest experience he’d had but one of the more memorable, if bittersweet, ones during which he’d been completely sober. Matthew interjected with humour at some points, sometimes changing the topic with barely related little encouragements that were clearly very important to him. James always asked Magnus to continue his story after every interruption, though he was gradually growing paler than normal, his navigation growing more frantic. Finally, as they entered Hyde Park, Magnus got onto the conversation they had before he left.

“I just need to be alone for a bit,” James said, disappearing into the shrubbery.

“I know he doesn’t seem grateful,” said Matthew, “but he is. We are. Jamie always likes to know, and when he’s finished feeling things he’ll come up with some plan to figure out what was happening and when he has, that will be that.”

“I can look into the spell if you’d like,” Magnus said.

Matthew, uncharacteristically quiet, deposited two halves of a silver bracelet into Magnus’ hands. “Jem was asking Grace about this a while back,” he said, “and I grabbed these as we left Curzon Street. Just in case.” He smiled, a sad smile but more genuine than most Magnus had seen from Matthew, and said, “Thank you. Thank you for being there that night and saving my parabatai’s life. Thank you for being there for us even now. My father has talked highly of you for my whole life, and I have idolised your sense of fashion and adventure for years, and now you are here and I have experienced your kindness, it truly is extraordinary. I should like to be more like you as I travel the world and try daring fashions, but mostly care about those who might not be expecting it. It has been a pleasure to see you as always. Right now I have a parabatai to attend to, and then we will go and find Cordelia.”

“A Shadowhunter who will express admiration for a Downworlder is rare indeed,” Magnus said.

Matthew grinned. “I have been told I am something of an oddity. Stuffy lot, the rest of us.”

Magnus had to agree.

James did not know how long he’d been sitting here, his head laying on his arms, resting on his knees as he held his legs close to his body. He was glamoured, and so didn’t worry about concerned or judgemental mundanes. Daisy is fine, he told himself. Breathe, and you can make sure of that soon. Hyde Park surrounded him: he had known Magnus rescued him from the Serpentine that night—but it was frustrating. James always thought he couldn’t have better parents, but when they didn’t tell him important and difficult things, he wondered—mostly he wondered why. Surely they must have been worried. Surely it would be best to discuss things with him. But he remembered himself a year ago, remembered the feeling—though distant now—of being apart from Grace and the way it pained him, distracted him from anything else. He remembered how he was in winter, irritable because of the cold—even this year, with Daisy, how he had felt so much and there was little that could get him out of his own head. Last year he had tried drowning the pains he didn’t even understand with Matthew, struggling to get out of the house but feeling even more restricted inside. Last year there had been no Cordelia to ground him, not even Thomas, just Matthew taking him out to get drunk and Christopher exploding things and making him weapons that felt satisfying to break things with. It was after that night, wasn’t it, after Grace had written back the following day and he couldn’t take the worried looks his parents gave him that he spent days in the training room, leaving the Devil Tavern first to go to bed or read something at home but hardly talking to his parents when he got there. And spring had come, with longer, warmer days and less rain and snow so he could patrol on rooftops more comfortably again. Spring, like it was now, which meant summer wasn’t far off and he would see Grace. Somehow he’d survived until Cordelia came. Gotten used to the ache in his chest and found it within himself to be kind until it felt a little more manageable. But that had taken time. No, maybe he couldn’t blame his parents for not telling him about that night.

There was a rustle of leaves now and he could feel Matthew’s presence. He let himself feel the relief that came from having one’s parabatai nearby for a while, then lifted his head up and rested it on Matthew’s shoulder.

“Magnus is investigating the curse,” Matthew said. “He told me that given the nature of the bracelet it is likely that it was controlling your mind in some way, more than just your feelings about Grace—making you feel things that you otherwise wouldn’t, and stopping you from thinking about what you otherwise might. He says you likely have little to worry about, but he’d like to come back in a few days to examine if any residue of magic has been left on you, just in case.”

Matthew paused.

“But the things you did with whatever you were feeling were still you. They were likely what anyone would do in those circumstances—and I wanted to apologise, Jamie, for never seeing how odd it is. For trying to get you to have fun with me when it never really was fun for you.”

“It wasn’t fun for you either, Math,” James guessed. “We were both escaping things and you can’t blame yourself for me, nor for the fact we got split up. You gave Magnus the bracelet I assume? Very enterprising of you, though I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Matthew nodded, and out of the corner of his eye James saw him smile at the compliment. “I was going to ask you first, and then—“

“No, you made the right call. I think I need to ask Uncle Jem about this. And then my parents—I thought the confrontation with them was over, about what—what had been done to me, but it seems that worried parents are a constant fixture in my life, even if I don’t live with them.”

Matthew flinched very slightly at this, and James wondered if he had been insensitive. “Are you okay, Math?”

“I am as long as you’re okay. And I’m not sure if you are.”

A few months ago James might have just lied and said he was fine, shutting down conversation about feelings he didn’t understand and if he stopped to think about it, often felt judged and misunderstood for. Now everyone important to him know that he had been under a spell and—maybe even if they didn’t fully understand, they respected him enough to want to listen. They thought he was brave, and he was beginning to come to terms with what that might mean.

“Math,” he said. “It was winter. The Serpentine was frozen, a thin crust of ice I would have had to step through. If it had been anyone but Magnus I would have died of hypothermia.”

“I thought you didn’t care about that,” Matthew said, and the raw honestly in his voice broke James’ heart. “I thought, this is the gamble I made, being parabatai with the little brooding Herondale boy who avoided people at the Academy, at parties, who hated me at first because I was so charming—and yet was more stubborn and resilient than anyone I knew. Who was kind in a cruel world and grew up to be an incredible friend, stayed such a good person yet told me nothing of how you felt. I thought you understood me better than anyone but maybe you would never truly be ready for anyone to understand you and I should just be grateful for the good times which were more than I deserved anyway.”

James wrapped his arms around Matthew. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you thought that. I do understand how scary it must have been, because all this time I have been afraid of losing you. Carrying you home from various bars and clubs and having my parents worry about me being the one who was out late—I couldn’t tell them that I feared for you. Assignations with older men and women—and I know Downworlders aren’t dangerous, necessarily, but some of them are bitter, justifiably so, and might find it funny to hurt the Consul’s son. Feeling a shadow over you keeping you behind a wall from me, more and more until you were holding me up like you always did but I had no idea how to help you, or if one day it would become too much for you to bear.”

“I’m sorry,” Matthew said. He hardly ever apologised.

“I’m sorry too,” James said, “because you did deserve to have a parabatai who let you in. As much as I know it’s not my fault that I couldn’t, and it’s still hard even now—let me try to make it up to you.”

Matthew was silent, speechless for once, but James felt his parabatai’s—anger? Perhaps it was simply residual stress. Then he said, “You’ve told everyone now, haven’t you?”

James supposed he had. His friends, his parents had been the hardest, Uncle Gabriel and Aunt Cecily—that had gone better than he had thought—and now, almost without meaning to. Magnus. Who was doing now what probably should have been done all along, figuring out if there was any remnant of the spell on James and what had happened that night. “I guess—I have.” James thought he should feel lighter, and he did, in a way, but mostly he felt dread and shock about today’s revelation. He needed time to process it.

“Sometimes it happens,” Matthew said, and there was trepidation in his voice as if he was sharing something very personal or painful, “that people get this wild burst of energy and do things without thinking, without concern for their safety or anyone else’s. It lasts for maybe a few days or even weeks and is often followed by sadness and tiredness. It happens, people have written about it.”

James had heard about this. When Cordelia’s father had been in the Basilas he had read some cases of people who were there to make sure he could comfort her if she ever worried about her father. He had read about similar stories before, too, both Shadowhunters and mundanes in the years after the Academy: some who were terrifying in their madness, who hurt others without even realising what they were doing, and others who were excluded from society for being a little odd or sad. Some were blamed for things that they didn’t do simply because they were different, and, after realising at thirteen years old how cruel the world could be, James had found from these stories that he was not alone. With family and friends by his side James had slowly worked up the courage to start over. He had done so then, and he was doing it again now. But if he might sometimes hurt people, mundanes, without realising it—

Stop. Focus on the present.

“I think we have to wait for Magnus to find out more about the spell. Hopefully that made it worse than it would have otherwise been—I don’t see the need to assume that’s what happened to me.”

“Jamie,” Matthew said, “I’ve even asked Christopher about it. About when I burned down the academy and asked you to be parabatai. About the nights I spent at the Shadow Market all those years ago with no regard to my safety. When I bought that potion. I think that’s what might have been happening to me.”

“Oh Math. You’re—“ James was about to say you’re just energetic, running after excitement and being entertaining and dramatic is just a part of who you are, tell Matthew that he’d always looked out for James’ safety even when he himself didn’t—

But he thought about the Matthew who hid behind his charming smile and constant movement, the shadow that had hung over him for years, the sorrow in his heart he felt alongside his own. Soul-sickness, Matthew had called it.

“You know if that has happened to you it doesn’t change who you are one bit. You’re kind and generous and so brave and whatever you’ve done, any time you weren’t yourself, none of it changes who you are.”

“Believe that for yourself too, Jamie,” Matthew said, “no matter what happens with this, no matter the reasons why. I wasn’t even under a demonic spell and I—I almost killed Alastair. He remembers it.”

James did not remember it. “What? When?”

“I put some of his belongings in the south wing of the school when I mixed the explosives for Christopher to blow it up. And I told him about it—you were there Jamie—and he was very nearly going to fetch them when the whole thing blew up. And yet he still saved my life, over in Westminster Abbey when we were trying to get Cordelia to you.”

James had not realised this at the time. He must have been distracted, lost in his own head. How many things did he not remember? And yet he remembered the carriage ride home, Matthew asking him to be parabatai and the warmth that filled him and made him think that maybe he wouldn’t completely be alone, maybe someday things would be okay. He still kept the shirt wore that day, that day he realised that despite everything that had gone wrong Matthew had chosen him. He remembered running around with Matthew for hours after they had gotten home, stopping to spy on his father and Uncle Gabriel arguing about the stolen carriage and then running around more with Lucie, telling her the good news, Christopher arriving still crying about how he blew up the school, comforting him, telling him they were going to be parabatai and the way his face had lit up all of a sudden and he said “Thomas thought you would.”

He had not thought about how that day might have been for Alastair, having his things blown up and almost getting blown up himself too. On one hand James didn’t blame Matthew after what Alastair was like at the Academy, and on the other hand, Alastair had apologised to him that day. He still remembered that. And the thought of how hurt Cordelia would be at the prospect of her brother getting hurt—not to mention Matthew having this on his conscience—

“Thank the Angel he wasn’t in that building,” James said.

Matthew just nodded. “Thank the Angel Magnus was there to get you home safely.”

James wished that hearing about that night didn’t set him on edge as much as it did, horror at the thought of hurting mundanes and what if it happened again? How would he explain it to Cordelia? The knowledge that he had gone into the Shadow Realm then. It didn’t happen anymore, at least—but to have happened and him not remember it, right in the middle of what he had thought had been the longest he’d gone without it happening was jarring. During the years he’d spent under the bracelet’s spell, he might not have been so shaken by this, the thought of those mundanes and Downworlders who had done nothing wrong, and yet he’d treated them as if hurting them was some kind of twisted entertainment. James didn’t doubt the truth of what Magnus had told him. And yet—part of him wished he could simply assume it wasn’t true. The thought of having done all of these things and not even remembering them perhaps made it worse than if he did. He couldn’t justify it to himself, couldn’t justify it to anyone else. What had been going through his head at the time?

“Jamie, breathe,” Matthew said. “Remember what you told me after I told you of what I did. What would you say if it was me who had done those things? No one was seriously hurt—would you not simply be glad I made it home safely? You hold yourself to such high standards. Some things are not worth fussing over.”

Even after his confession. Matthew was still trying to comfort James. He was so lucky Matthew had chosen him to be parabatai. Focus on what you can do now. You can do good things, good for the mundanes and Downworlders, James told himself. He could do a lifetime of good: now, at almost eighteen, freed from the spell he had been under so he could feel love and compassion fully. But first.

“I think I’m ready to go find Cordelia.”

[megamindsupremacy]

Misc PJO fic recs (part 3)

Meg McCaffrey, Master Matchmaker by ceruleancats

Apollo, in all his terrible trendy glory, shows up at the Hunters of Artemis campground at an unholy hour with a plea for advice. A teenage Meg flexes her people skills (so to speak).

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In Dreams by m_arnie

Zoe did not like Lord Apollo. He was too arrogant, too vain, and flirted with her and her fellow hunters incessantly. He always appeared in their camp at the most inconvenient times, offering archery tips that no one wanted and being a persistent source of annoyance to Lady Artemis near constantly.

Zoe did not like Lord Apollo, but sometimes, when Zoe asked a Hunter how they knew something they couldn’t have possibly found out by themselves, and they told her about their dream, she would look up at the sun, and she would wonder…

or

Zoe did not get demigod dreams… until she did.

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Too Much Time by TheTimeTraveler24

Magnus Chase is an einherji. Einherjar are immortal. Never (permanently) dying, never aging. Not everyone is like that, and it's kinda hard to watch it all go by. It's even harder to let go.

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The Request Revolution by tiredpjofan

"I … I don't get what I’m meant to do. I just throw my food into the fire and … talk?" James, a son of Hermes asked -- Percy could recognise those blue eyes and elfish facial features anywhere.

Percy grinned, "Yeah, that's pretty much it."

James hesitated before looking down at his feet, "But ... Hermes has a lot of children more powerful and more popular than me. What would I even ask him for? It's not like he cares."

Maybe it was because Percy was reminded of that promise he wrangled from the gods at age sixteen, but one moment he was looking at the younger camper, and the next he was throwing some of his food into the fire and asking Poseidon for some Disneyland tickets very, very loudly.

But even though he wasn't quite sure how it happened, the small, shocked laugh that James let out made it worth it.

Or

Percy sees that some of the newer campers don't feel 100% comfortable with requesting stuff from their godly parents, so he decides to rectify that the only way he knows how -- dramatically.

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Build it Bigger than the Sun by furnaceglow

An eternity. And an end.

There are nearly unreconcilable differences between now and then, between boy and god, but one thing remains the same: the Fates can never let him stay, and they can never let him be happy.

This is no longer looking like a good idea.

Apollo chooses to remain mortal. Surprisingly, it’s not the end of his journey.

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the long wandering has finally come to an end by brekkerfiied (enhattps)

Graduation is not something that Meg McCaffrey ever thought she would get to do.

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The Bomb in the Baby Carriage by the_oncoming_stormageddon

Nico had always just assumed that Will’s mom is dead. It isn’t until he’s trying to propose that he learns he was very, very wrong. So if she’s not six feet under, where has Naomi Solace been all these years?

aka, Will may or may not have forgotten to mention that his mom is in prison for murder

Title from the song "The Boy in the Bubble" by Paul Simon

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