#my mum said only her grandmother was alive by the time she was born in the 50s

[breakfastteatime]

Feel free to stick more details in the tags ^_^

[obwan110]

Family Ramblings

I was reading a story online about 100-year-old lady from Canterbury area, New Zealand, and she was reminiscing about the past and that got me thinking about my childhood. I was born in the winter of 1977 Christchurch.

I remember having an old black and white TV in the Lounge and that didn't have very good reception so it hardly got used much and we also had an old rectangle radiogram, that my mother had purchased it only picked up AM radio and the record player would work sometimes until the needle broke. in about 1984 dad finally brought a color TV and then later followed a Commodore 64 computer, that I think my brother had asked my dad to buy.

In the hallway we also had an old telephone, one of those old dial ones, it was more of a toy to me as a child, it was disconnected. It wasn't till I was about 7 or 8 years old that we gotta push button phone I was so excited to have a phone I'd call my friends all the time and their parents would get angry at me, The novelty soon wore off.

I grew up in Spreydon, Christchurch New Zealand, my parents had brought a house For I think 28 or $30,000 just after my brother had been born. My parents stayed in that house until their deaths 10 and 13 years ago (2023). Before moving to Christchurch They were living in #Leeston where my brother was born (1973) Dad had been brought up in Leeston. His brothers and sister had all moved into Christchurch along with his father and stepmother, or should I say my grandfather and my step Nana, but I viewed her as my nana more as she was the only nana I knew growing up.

My mother was from Huntley, North Island of New Zealand. She was from a family of twelve brothers and sisters, I know I sound tired just saying that I don't know how Grandma Millie did it. My mom ended up down here because two of her sisters had moved down here, one was in Ashburton, and the other here in Christchurch.

Grandma Millie sent my mum down here to be with them, It wasn't long after that she met my dad. a few years later her sister got very sick with multiple sclerosis, MS, and passed away leaving behind my two cousins and their father,That hit my mother and family hard, as did losing any of her family.

All my Uncles and Aunties and Grandma Millie including my mum in Huntly circa 1960s. A few of them are alive today :-) Grandma passed away in 1984, With us being in Christchurch and Grandma being in Huntly I didn't get to know her, but some of my older cousins did, and have said she was a lovely women and grandma.

I have only gotten to know my other aunties and uncles and their children (cousins) through Facebook which is better than nothing, and had a relationship with my aunty in Ashburton and their children. Me and mum would go down and stay there in the School Holidays, I loved going there as a child and teen, they had a pool and my uncle played the guitar and sang, and their home had a nicer vibe and was light.

Dad's side of the family, my grandad on the left, and all his brothers and sisters, in front is my great-grandfather John, he was an early settler Farmer in Sheffield and Ashburton Canterbury and later farmed in what is now the suburb Sockburn Christchurch. John married a Prebble, and it was her brother that started the small town of Prebbleton outside of Christchurch.

My Grandmother Nancy Second left and her Brother Reg Great Grandfather Elis in front, also a Farmer his farm house still stands on the way out to Leeston. He was buried in Leeston Cemetery.

[kerloned]

Long island medium daughter dies

Long island medium daughter dies update#

Oftentimes, when a soul comes forward, it will apologize for their actions when they were alive. It's a feeling or energy, and Caputo said she'll often physically experience how they died, such as shortness of breath or pain in a certain part of her body.Ĭaputo said she's never had an angry spirit before she began doing readings, she asked God, "if this is my soul's journey," then she only wants to channel positive information that will help someone. When she's in contact with the dead, Caputo said, she doesn't see or hear them. “How in the world would I know that?" Caputo said. More: WOW To Do List: See the Ben Allen Band and moreĬaputo pointed to one mother who had died from COVID that she was channeling. During a reading with the woman's daughter, the deceased conveyed to Caputo that a nurse came into her room and the woman told the nurse how her daughter had just called, and they had a conversation and discussed a favorite song. “I have a greater respect for the frontline workers and I always had such respect," she said. Yet in readings, she found that people who died were not alone because nurses and other health-care workers were by their side, Caputo said. 11, 2001, many in the past year didn't know what the final moments were like for family members and friends who died from COVID-19. “I find it interesting how, in the same way, people died that day and didn’t know what happened to their loved ones," she said. And with the pandemic, people are struggling with the unexpected loss people they cherish, Caputo said. They got married last May, shortly after buying their first home together.She began her spiritual readings about the time 9/11 happened nearly 20 years ago. The couple got engaged in 2019 after two years of dating. They were also holding a scone to match a slice of pizza – a nod to her husband’s profession – to announce the news. Victoria and Michael revealed she was pregnant in a summer social media post featuring sweet moments of the pair in black t-shirts with pizza on them. We could have a mini on hand!” PREGNANCY RECOVERY “And all along, I thought she looked like me until this ultrasound. She told her followers: “In about 5 weeks my baby monkey will be here! Look at those lips 😍 # babyM # 34 weeks One photo shows the beauty posing completely nude with only a towel to cover her modest bust, while also cradling her growing swelling.įrom another angle, the restaurant owner can be seen standing behind the mother of one child while holding her pregnant belly.Įarlier that week, The Long Island Medium star shared her ultrasound imagerevealed the arrival of the baby was only a few weeks away. Last month, parents-to-be shared stunning photos from maternity shoot. In a follow-up post, she asked her followers to weigh in on when they thought she would give birth. She included the caption, “My baby is having a baby” along with a pink heart and smiley face with a heart emoji.Ī pregnant Victorian also shared a post before her daughter’s due date, capturing the baby moving in her mother’s womb with the caption: “I think she wants out.” “She should be here soon, very soon,” said Theresa excitedly. She hurriedly looked at the baby, saying that the baby would move every time she heard her grandmother’s voice. Theresa also pointed out that the baby’s date of birth could be the angelic day of February 22, hoping that she will be born at 2:22 pm that day. In the video, the TLC star scanned the camera around the room showing the 27-year-old lying on the bed, with her husband sitting on the chair next to her.īoth managed to stay calm during the process, with Mike admitting he was playing a game on his phone to relax his nerves. The mum went into labor for the first time on Tuesday as Theresa captured the exciting moment while waiting for her granddaughter to be born.

Long island medium daughter dies update#

The Victorian TV star’s mother Theresa, 55, gave her followers a previous live update on Instagram from Victoria’s hospital room. 5 Parents announced for the first time that they expect to return in August Credit: Instagram / Victoria Caputo

[lunmelia]

I’m gonna rant for a bit, because after thinking about it for a solid 1 minute Supernatural had so much potential to make Sam and Dean’s relationship with Mary extremely strange, but in a “I just came back from the dead and to a world I don’t know, I cannot handle being a mom to 2 grown adults who are older than me so actually we’re siblings now” kind of way. Hear me out.

Just... imagine. You’re 29, you have 2 sons, one who’s 4-years-old and the other who is only 6 months. You die. 33 years later, you’re alive again but you’re still 29, and you’re faced with your 2 now adult sons, one who is now 8 years older than you, and the other 4 years older. Your sons are literally now older than you. They have experienced life for longer than you have. Your oldest has wrinkles and you don’t. How fucking weird is that!!

Just the... complexity that kind of relationship would have. I did love how they approached Mary in the show, how they had Dean confront her and how we later find out that Amara brought her back just so Dean could face reality and not paint his mum as a saint but like... it could’ve been so much more weird. That kind of situation just calls for weird. 

That scene where Mary ordered them dinner should have been so much more awkward and not as comfortable and light-hearted as it was. What if Mary just outright told them “I don’t cook” and they’re like “uh... okay, well, we could order?” and she perks up like “order?” and she’s thinking oh cool they’ll just call the nearest pizza place but no, her sons pull out a mobile phone and they try to teach her how to use the app but she just gets frustrated and doesn’t get it so they give up, Dean orders and they spend the time waiting teaching her how to use a phone. And okay kids are usually teaching their parents how to use technology but this is just weird because her sons are older than her. Then the food gets there and she’s like “why don’t I serve it?” because that’s what mothers do, right? But it feels weird and awkward and wrong because they’re grown men so she shouldn’t have to mother them, right? And they eat in silence and it’s so fucking awkward and all of them know it’s awkward and after a moment Mary goes “... Dean, do you uh... do you still like pie?” and he says yes and it’s a huge fucking relief but at the same time it’s fucking not because that’s all she knows!! that’s all she knows about her son and thank fuck he still likes pie but that’s all she knows.

And just- Mary having a full breakdown because she always wanted to be a mother, that’s all she wanted. She just wanted to drop the hunter life and be a mother and just live a normal fucking life for once and she can’t. She can’t. That life was ripped away from her and now her sons are adults and older than her and she didn’t raise them and they’re hunters and she’s a hunter again and she can’t be a mother. Her sons are hunters and she never wanted that and it makes her nauseous and makes her head hurt. And Sam and Dean find her sobbing in one of the bathrooms next to the toilet and they hold her close until she stops shaking. They comfort her because she can’t comfort them. She only knows how to be a mother to a 4-year-old and a baby, she can’t be a mother to them. 

And you know what? Sam and Dean are oddly okay with that. All they wanted growing up was a mother to care for them, to cook them food and be there to hold them when things got bad. But now that they have their mother in front of them? They realise that they don’t really... need her. Not Mary sepcifically, but just a mother. They’ve survived the past 33 years without a mother, and sure it was shitty but it happened and they’re used to it. They’re grown men, they don’t need a mother. Sure, it would’ve been nice but when Mary tried again the next day by making them scrambled eggs with a forced smile they just cringed. They don’t need a mother. It sucks, and they wish so bad that they had one growing up, maybe things would’ve been better, but they’ve dealt with this for the past 33 years and they’re good. 

So, okay, she’s not their mum. She is, but she’s not. Really, they’re just strangers trying to get to know each other. And so they do. They spend time together, so much they eventually become insperable. Not in a separation anxiety kind of way, but when Mary isn’t desperately trying to play the mother role the three just click and make a kickass team. They can’t call her “mom” in public because she obviously looks younger than them so when they’re out shopping or anywhere else they just call her Mary and introduce her as their sister. It works, it’s believable because they look related, they are, but no one blinks when they refer to her as a sister. 

And eventually they stop calling her “mom” and start just calling her Mary. And “mom” becomes a rare word, a word used in dark moments where one of them is frantically putting pressure on a wound that won’t stop bleeding, or when Mary finally breaks free of the British Men of Letters’ brainwashing. But one day Dean takes a sip from a beer, puts it down and is quiet for a moment before saying “... I think we’ve accidentally adopted our mom as our sister” and Sam just goes “yep” and cue John Mulaney ‘you know those days when you’re like “this might as well happen”? adult life is already so goddamn weird’ and it’s just. that just becomes their dynamic. 

She’s not their mum, they’re not her sons, so the relationship dynamic they adopt is siblings. And the concept is so fucking weird but it feels more normal to them than her being their mum. She’s just now their little sister and they’re her big brothers and it’s like “huh. okay. didn’t expect this to happen but okay” 

Like it’s STRANGE but I think their situation calls for it!! This is SUPERNATURAL!! Let it be fucking weird!! She’s their mum but no! Now she’s their little sister!! Imagine the humor opportunities! 

Mary starts to date and she dates a hunter who isn’t aware of the situation and it’s like Sam and Dean act like protective older brothers and give the person the “you hurt her she’ll hurt you, good luck” talk but also

Hunter: so... ever thought of settling down and having kids? Mary, immediately panicking like should she tell them?? is this an appropriate topic to introduce on the third date? she can’t even wikihow this! she tried and nothing came up!: uhhhh

And also after Jack is born and I’m just gonna sprinkle some baby!jack AU in this, after Dean is like *points to Jack* this is my son and *points to Cas* this is my husband Mary’s like

Mary: damn... I’m a 30-year-old grandmother. I don’t wanna be a 30-year-old grandmother Sam: technically you’re 63 Mary: technically I died when I was 29, was dead for 33 years, got brought back to life and was still 29 so you can shut your face I’m a 30-year-old grandmother Dean: I thought we all agreed you’re more like our sister Mary: not when it comes to being a grandmother. I can’t handle being your mom but I can certainly handle being Jack’s grandma Cas: I’m confused... I thought you just said you don’t want to be a grandmother Mary, holding Jack up: I’m a grandma now

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

I would like to take a moment to talk about my Mum. She was born on a summer day in August of 1958, in Virginia. Given the name Rita after her mother, the middle name Theresa after my great grandmother.

My Mum was the middle child for a couple years till my aunt came along. Her family never stayed stationary very long, my Papa, her father was pilot for the Navy, so they were constantly moving. My Mum, never really knew just how much my Aunt loved, but I see it now.

Rita, she had didn’t have it easy growing up, her parents loved her but with my Papa gone a lot, and four children to be raised, a lot fell on my Mum. The burden carried on for years dark memories that haunted my Mum for years, but she hid it well, with a smile that lit up a room, with a gravitational force pulling people in to start a conversation with her, to become her friend. Your problems were her problems, she would stop at nothing to help you fix them.

Her favorite place to ever live was Asbury Park, NJ. She worked on the boardwalk as a teenager in a diner that Bruce Springsteen frequently came and had a cup of coffee. A story my Mum would tell me often, how she didn’t know him, but he knew her name, smiled she fill his cup, her manager asking if she knew who he was. My Uncle would sneak into a concert of his at the Stone Pony, where my Mum fell in love with his music, she would later pass on to me.

My parents met at the persistence of my Aunt, constantly bugging my father to take my Mum on date though they had never met. My dad said it was love at first, my mother, she was smitten. They dated for 6 months before she moved to Hollywood, CA, in search for the sun and warmth. My father, he followed her four months later. They married in front of my fathers parents in a small ceremony on St. Patrick’s 1979, in the Lutheran Church. Four months later they were married in front of all their family in a Catholic wedding though my Papa tried to get them to elope.

In the years that followed things weren’t easy, they lived pinching penny’s, my mum loss babies, and failed adoptions. My mum was blessed with my brother in ‘84, but life just seemed hard to keep going on, but she managed it but barley. I came along on accident in ‘90 and prematurely. I was the oops baby, but often referred to as the miracle baby, the baby no one thought would come or make it.

My mum had a really hard time after my birth, postpartum depression came down hard on her, the thought that she was horrible mother never leaving her, but she still took me to every doctors appointment, held my hand, and loved me to the best of her ability.

I know looking back with my Mum’s server depression, anxiety, and mental state she was the best Mum she could be. I still get moments where I get mad for the moments I watched her walked out the door, the moments she missed out on my life because the pills made her to sleepy, because she was in too much pain, her past was too painful. But she still loved me to the best of her ability. She made our vacations fun, she made each birthday and holiday so special, making sure I felt like a princess for the day, even if it was her birthday. My mum became my best friend.

No one loved my Mum quite like my Dad ever did. They were together 42 years and I used to watch how my dad looked at my Mum as if she hung the moon and how my Dad could bring a smile to her face in the most smallest of ways. The way that they didn’t need to do extravagant things for a date night that just being together was so beautiful to. I loved how they would sit and cuddle on the couch, even after my dad had just worked 12 hours, he would listen to everything my Mum had to say. They had their moments I was sure they were going to call it quits they stuck through it and it made me so happy. It made want to find a love like that, someone who would love me the way my dad loved my mom and the way my Mum loved him.

I lost my Mum in her sleep on April 21st, 2016, 5 years ago this year. Sometimes it literally blows my mind to think she is gone, I was only 25 years old when I lost my Mum. I know many lost their Mum younger, but both my parents mothers were still alive, I always thought I’d be like her sharing my children with her. I still have dreams where she comes home and I get angry and scream at her an all she does is give me her beautiful smile, and when I wake I know she was there visiting me. I think of her day in and day out, how she would have loved this song or this movie. I find her in everyday little things and miss her so terribly.

I wanted to share my Mum with you because my Mum had always been the one to inspire me to write, the one to read, to smile, and keep on living. I wouldn’t be Katy if it weren’t for my Mum.

[nadiaportia]

Prompt 2 - Parents: “De Rubalcaba y Saavedra”

For @arcana-echoes​

Summary: Ximena reminisces over two important people in her life she usually doesn’t think about. 

Word count: ~2000

I had the most annoying case of writer’s block for this one when I didn’t know which way of storytelling I wanted, changed what I originally had (the first draft featured a lot more Rubalcaba sisters and took place in Calpacia) and got the idea for this while cooking with a friend. Apologies for the delay and for any grammatical errors or typos but I had to get it out of my system. Enjoy!

“Y’know, it was my mother’s birthday yesterday.”

The words slipped out of Ximena’s mouth before she realized she had actually voiced them out loud and it wasn’t just a stray thought when she saw Asra looking at her with wide eyes. 

“Oh.” 

He stopped tying together the bundles of sage and reached out to gently touch her hand.

“Ah, it’s fine. I guess I was just too preoccupied with everything going on to remember it. And it’s not like I would have received an invitation to her birthday party anyway.”

Her attempt at a dry laugh was somehow deflated by the sad look Asra gave her, and she immediately felt bad for making light of it. 

“Don’t feel bad about it. I almost forgot about my father’s birthday once, it happens to the best of us.”

Ximena sighed but nodded. The thing was that the relationship between Asra and his parents had been vastly different than the one between hers. 

“What did you usually do on her birthdays?” Asra had leaned with his back against the kitchen counter. Oh, so this was officially a break from work and story time. Ximena thought about whether to indulge him or not; despite knowing each other for quite some time, she had barely talked about her, or her father for that matter. Her sisters, her cousin and her aunt were frequently featured but for some reason she herself didn’t even know both Marisol and Valentín appeared rather rarely in her stories. 

“There usually was a dinner with her favorite foods from all over Calpacia, and each year we gifted her something different - one time Cibela composed a piece for her, Heloisa wrote a play for her with us as the actors and I drew her as the mother of ancient gods once.” Ximena remembered how proud she had been that day when she saw the awe and happiness on her mother’s face. “The dinners were always attended by the nobles closest to her and occasionally also the Zaan, for her 50th they threw her a rightfully huge celebration on the palace grounds, with an orchestra, a huge buffet and everything her heart desired.”   

“Something tells me that this was even more over the top than Count Lucio’s birthday parties.”

Ximena shrugged. She avoided the Palace, and with it the masquerades thrown in honor for Vesuvia’s sovereign, so she couldn’t make a comparison.

“She definitely gave her love for pompous celebrations to Heloisa. They were the only ones who loved those parties and took it way too serious. Agustín, Esmé and I were fine with them, we just retreated into some corner and had conversations but Cibela hated them.”

“What about your father?”

“Well, he wasn’t exactly the social butterfly of the two, but he enjoyed himself. I think part of it is because they met at such a party.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, it was actually Tía Esmé’s birthday party which my mother helped organize. Mamá would occasionally tell us about the first time she saw him --” Ximena shifted her posture, adopted a dreamy look on her face and clasped her hands in front of her chest.

“‘There he stood by the window -- wearing that dashing costume made of golden silk, the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes upon.” She dropped her hands to her sides as Asra watched her with fascination.

“Wait, she invited him to the party despite not knowing him?”

Ximena shrugged. “She invited some members of the Merchant fleet, despite not all of them being nobles but since they were basically aristocracy-adjacent, no one really batted an eye. Now, as for marrying a non-aristocrat, that’s an entirely different thing.”

Asra scoffed. She had told him about the strict division of class back in Calpacia, and had called it horrendously intolerant. Part of this system had been what saw the peasants and ordinary people as disposable tools for the aristocracy to use according to their will, including to fight their petty wars. 

“They married regardless?”

“Well, back in those days, Esmé was the heiress to Marquesa Constanza, and she vouched for my parents. It wasn’t a scandal despite having potential to be one but given that my father was just a few steps away from aristocracy and had an aunt who happened to be a noble, it really helped their case.”

“Good for them.”

“Yeah. The wedding was really grand. Esmé told us all about it when I was younger, it always sounded to me like something out of a fairytale.” She sighed. “But I think if I were to marry, it’d do with as few people as possible. Hell, Segismundo can be the only witness when my spouse and I exchange vows for all I care for, I don’t care much for grand gestures.”

Asra nodded. It was then when Ximena realized just how awkward it was to discuss a potential marriage with her… well, ex-lover. They were too many things at once, roommates, co-workers, close friends, amicable exes, and most conversations didn’t really get weird; except this one. 

For a moment, she wondered what marrying Asra would be like. She doubted much would change between them; not a lot had changed while they were together, except that they became more romantically affectionate and the sex might’ve been gotten more frequent --

She stopped herself at once. Knock it off. Thinking about the sex with the ex with whom you still live and work with while you’re talking about your parents is weird. 

Ximena cleared her throat. “Either way… that’s how my parents got married and when Cibela was born, Tía Esmé abdicated the title of marquesa so my mother really won at the lottery that day. Yay for us, I guess.”

“She abdicated? You never told me that… but wasn’t your aunt a whole general?” Asra furrowed his brows. 

“Yeah, and choosing to not become a courtier was what made her fall out of favor in my grandmother’s eyes. She wanted a pawn at the court, not a grand marshal who acted independently. My mother fulfilled that role just fine by the time Cibela was born so Esmé gave her title and made a name for herself -- well, a bigger one than she already had. That turned my father into a marqués but it’d never be enough of a status elevation to override the Rubalcaba name so that’s why my sisters and me are ‘Rubalcaba y Saavedra and not ‘Saavedra y Rubalcaba.” Ximena gave a sardonic laugh. “Then again, technically speaking, I’m neither these days.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” Asra said. Something in his voice said clearly that he wanted to know more though, as did his body language. 

This was Asra she was talking to, who shared basically everything with her. The most she could do was give him a little back.

“No, don’t worry, I’m fine.” She paused for a moment and an awkward silence hung in the air between them.

“Sooo, what were your parents like?” Asra asked quickly. “I mean, what kind of people were they? I feel like your mum was the life of the party while your dad was more like… you.”

Ximena scoffed with amusement. “Yeah, I suppose that is kind of fitting. The quiet type, it rubbed off more on Cibela than me though. She was their favorite, which makes sense since she’s the firstborn, he even took her on one of his journeys when she turned fifteen. I don’t think he and Heloisa ever found a lot of common ground but then again, she always was sort of the troublemaker. I think he saw more of himself in me, and he loved the way I painted, how I closed myself off from the world when I was working to the point where I think he wanted me to pursue that career and not at the Guild. He was sweet, very gentle and whenever he sang, Mother would cry because it sounded so beautiful. She was a firecracker, turned heads wherever she went. She could always make me laugh even when I was sad as a small child, and loved seeing me do magic. I always wanted to be her as a kid, have the same way with words, to be instantly liked, hell, even be a courtier. I thought being an apprentice was awfully boring at first, which is hilarious because Heloisa thought being a courtier was boring as hell and all she wished for was to be a warrior like Cibela or a magician like me. But Tía Esmé said that I had gotten my father’s ‘tranquil mystique’ that drew people in, as well as his ability to read people.”

“I mean, you do have a ‘tranquil mystique’ which can be extremely charming.” Asra’s lips curved into a smile.

“Thank you, Asra, really.” Ximena replied. The smile on her face didn’t fade when she spoke next, and it had been something that had been bubbling underneath the surface ever since the conversation had turned towards this topic.

“And yet… in hindsight, they kind of sucked as parents. I mean, sure, they were nice, but… good grief, they were so absent in our lives from some point onwards -- even with Cibela, who they favoured to all hell and back! I really felt more like Esmé was my mother more than my actual mother at times!” She laughed. It wasn’t a particularly nice sound, much too bitter and dry but somehow she just felt the need to air her grievances.

“And then because Father was marqués he became more busy, went on more journeys, spent less time at the residence, and then didn’t come back from his trip to Fuck-knows-where alive and it changed Mother so much -- she was irritated more often than not, angry with Tía Esmé and by the time she became ill, she had all but locked herself up in the Summer Palace on our island in the Gulf of Cartagenth. And you know what’s the weird thing about all of this? I didn’t care about it at all. And that’s why I’m surprised in the first place about even remembering this birthday at all, because I’m so used to not caring that suddenly doing so just feels… idiotic.”

Ximena took a deep breath. Asra reached out as she sighed and rubbed her arm, obviously a bit surprised at her small outburst.

“I’m sorry. I wish… you had spent more time with them, and that they would have there for you when you needed them.”

Part of Ximena welcomed Asra’s sympathy, the other wanted to push it away and wrote it off as pity. She said nothing, merely nodded and wrapped her arms around herself. 

“Do you still want to make something for your mum’s birthday?” Asra asked slowly. “It could feel nice, and maybe then you won’t think of it as ‘idiotic’ anymore.” 

Ximena bit her lip. Maybe he was right… hell, Asra was by some miracle almost always right and taking his advice usually proved to be a step in the right direction. Perhaps swallowing her pride would be nice for a change, considering how admittedly damn hard it tended to be. 

“We could make a cake, and if you want it to not just be the two of us, Sayelle can join us.”

“Well, she doesn’t even know who I really am.”

Asra sighed. “You wouldn’t need to tell her, of course -- unless you want to do that as well. I know it took you some time to tell me, so I don’t wanna push you. But she’s a good person and a dear friend, I trust her to keep your secret.”

Ximena raised an eyebrow and eyed Asra. Truth be told, from the amount of time she had spent with the Bizateni magician who owned a shop for magical supplies as well as antiquities, she liked her but this… it was quite the thing to tell someone else. 

“I’ll think about it. The birthday is over anyway, so one or two days later won’t have my mother spinning in her grave more than she already might be.”

[my-happy-little-bean]

The Road Trip - Chapter 1

pairings: logicality (platonic or romantic, depending on how you view it) words: 3964  chapter warnings: familial death, talks about upcoming death, existential talks & debates on life/death, implied toxic familial relationships, implied suicide mention (never confirmed/elaborated on) chapter summary: in which patton and logan learn more about each other and also talk about the sunset.

note: the song featured in this chapter is called "means to a mend" by adam melchor :)

< previous chapter

[read on ao3]

[masterlist]

*credit to art in this chapter goes to @lemonyellowlogic​​ ✨*

---

The first hour or so was quiet, much to Patton’s despair. Logan didn’t even turn on his radio, making Patton think that he was expecting a bit more conversation as well. 

He leaned his head against Logan’s window, idly tuning his ukulele over and over again as the world sped past him. The strings and the sound of Logan shifting gears was all he could hear.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, in all honesty. Of course it was going to be quiet; they didn’t even know each other. 

Still, he feared the possibility that this is what the entire trip could be like; so he straightened up in his seat and cleared his throat. 

“So, um, Logan –” He sounded like he was testing how it felt to say his name– “what do you do?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Logan stiffen. He forced his stare straight ahead. Great. He was doing just... great. 

“I’m a teacher,” Logan finally said. 

“Really?” Patton latched onto the words as soon as he heard them. “That’s so cool!”

“I suppose it is.” Logan drummed his fingers against the wheel. “I enjoy it.” 

“What do you teach?” 

“Science.” Patton watched as a smile tugged at the corner of Logan’s lips. “I teach at a high school level, so it is not the most advanced content to teach; but it is fulfilling to give students a figurative...spark.” 

“Spark?”

“Just the motivation to pursue something more than what is on the whiteboard, so to speak.” Patton caught a glimpse of a small twinkle in Logan’s eye. “There is no experience greater than when a student comes up to you after class and asks you a question.” 

Patton smiled. How could he not have been given more time?

“That sounds...incredible,” he said instead. Logan just nodded, though the smile remained.

“How about you?” Patton finally turned his head to face him as he spoke. “What do you do?”

“Me?” Patton squeaked, blushing slightly. “Oh I, um, write...songs.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not really a big deal,” Patton said quickly. “I just, um...well, I upload some of them on YouTube.”

“Do you have a following?” 

“Not an impressive one.” He shrugged. “At least, not in today’s world.”

“Still,” Logan said, taking one hand off the wheel to grab his iced coffee. “I think it is an interesting occupation, being in the world of social media.”

Patton laughed nervously. “Heh, yeah! I guess.”

“Is that why you brought your ukulele?”

Patton blushed again.

“Yeah,” he replied meekly. “I’m hoping to write something before...you know.”

A quiet hush filled the car. Patton watched as Logan’s smile fell.

“Yes,” Logan finally said, clearing his throat and setting his drink back down. “I understand.”

“Though I– I’ve been having some trouble finding inspiration,” Patton continued, scrambling to pick the conversation back up. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “The chances of being struck with inspiration is less than like, being struck by lightning, heh.”

“Hm,” Logan hummed. “Well, where do you usually find inspiration?” 

“My family,” Patton said, almost instantly. “A lot of my songs are about my family.” 

Logan, to his surprise, smiled. 

“That is...well, adorable.” 

“I guess it is,” Patton laughed, looking back down at his ukulele. “It’s easy to find inspiration when I think of them because I played a lot for them. Especially my mum — it’s easy to think of something great when I think of her.”

“What does your mother do?”

“She was a scientist.” Patton saw Logan beam in the corner of his eyes. “She led a lot of field research campaigns for NASA before she retired.”

“Fascinating,” Logan said, as if his breath was taken away. Patton smiled.

“She is,” He said proudly. “She was given a lot of time.”

“I can imagine. She was truly deserving of it.”

"She still is.” Patton’s heart swelled as he spoke. “She takes care of Roman and Remus– my younger brothers– pretty much all by herself.”

He laughed. “They can be a handful sometimes. And I mean, I help around too when I can, but she...well, she’s the leader.”

“She sounds wonderful,” Logan said almost fondly.

“She really is.” Patton’s smile fell. “I just wish she didn’t have to do it on her own.”

Logan frowned. 

“Did...did something happen to your father?”

Patton sighed. “He wasn’t as lucky with his time.”

A beat of silence. 

“Ah, I see,” Logan cleared his throat. “My apologies."

“It’s okay.” Patton smiled sadly. “He...um, it was complicated, heh.”

“...Right.”

Logan fell silent once more. Patton cursed at himself as he felt the conversation die. That one...well, that was on him. 

The next half hour was quiet again. Patton didn’t try to resurrect their talk; instead, he fiddled with the strings on his ukulele, trying to come up with a few chords that could tell the story of this suddenly awkward adventure.

“I know what it’s like,” Logan finally spoke up, when the agonizing silence passed.

Patton lifted his head up. “What?”

“About your father.” Logan didn’t take his eyes off the road. “I know what it’s like to not know how to...well, feel .” 

 ---

The story of Logan’s parents is kind of a sad one. It made Patton wonder why good people had the saddest stories. 

His dad’s life was just cut short. Logan never understood why, and neither did Patton. He was an electrician, and a good one of that. Friend to many, a joy to all. It made Patton’s blood run cold, thinking of the Doctor who made that decision.

But his mother was a different story. 

“She left when I was 14,” Logan recalled as they sat in traffic. He leaned back in his seat, one hand on the wheel and the other leaning against his window. “My dad had only died three years ago when she dropped me off at my grandmother’s house. I...I don’t know where she is now.”

“Oh, Logan .” Patton’s voice went quiet, barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Do not worry about apologizing.” Logan sounded bitter; cold. “What she did was...it was illogical.”

Patton shifted in his seat nervously. “It was?” 

A beat of silence. 

“She was a Doctor,” Logan finally said. 

Patton immediately looked at Logan, as if his words became his prey. 

“A...a Doctor.” Patton tried to keep his voice levelled. “ Huh .”

“She believed the whole ‘ultimate sacrifice’ concept,” Logan murmured, not making eye contact with Patton. He looked almost ashamed. “As if it was the most valuable thing you could do with your time.” 

“Did she just not have enough time?” 

Logan stiffened. “She never told me. All I know about it is that she did her Procedure when she was 21, right before she left the Clinic after her mandatory appointment. She told me that they went through her files, disclosed to her the results, and then she simply made her decision.”

“Just like that?” 

“Just like that,” Logan echoed, his voice a quiet murmur. “For all I know, she could have been doing this for years; even before I was born.”

Patton winced at the small flame that suddenly flickered in his chest. 

“She had it all,” Logan continued. “Difficulty aside, the job was extremely rewarding. After my father passed, we probably could have had enough to live a very generous lifestyle. Not to mention having the limit on her time completely eradicated...”

Logan sighed. “I will never understand how she could just give that away.”

The flame intensified. Patton shook his head and stared out the window.

“I can’t believe she just left.” His chest hurt with every word. “That’s...that’s so awful.” 

A pause. 

“It’s a hard job, I suppose,” is all Logan said. 

Patton’s anger drifted out of him through a sigh, leaving as fast as it arrived. 

“Is she still…?”

“Alive?” Logan chuckled quietly. “I don’t know. All I know is that she is certainly not doing her job anymore.”

“I didn’t even know you could do that,” Patton murmured. “Because, like...they live forever, don’t they?”

Logan’s hands tensed up on the wheel. “They do.”

“And if they live forever, there’s really only one way out...isn’t there?”

A beat of silence. Logan then cleared his throat. 

“Do you want dinner?” he suddenly blurted out. 

Patton blinked. “Pardon?”

“Dinner,” Logan continued to drum his fingers against the wheel. “I feel like we need to raise our spirits — figuratively, of course. It is a road trip, after all.”

“Oh.” Patton didn’t even realize it was late; or that the tension in the car actually peaked high enough for one of them to notice. “Um, yeah! Gosh, I’m so sorry, um– dinner would be...swell.”

Logan just nodded. 

The car shifted off the highway and towards softer lights from nearby town buildings and homes; and Patton finally decided that perhaps it would be best to just sit in the silence for a little while.

---

 “You could have ordered more than just a salad, you know?” Patton said as Logan gave the waitress their menus. “This can be my treat! It’s the least I can do.” 

“I want to keep spendings to a minimum,” Logan hummed. “For a night or two in a motel, and meals when the time arises. After all, it is important to conserve resources when pursuing a trip that may involve some detours.”

Patton giggled as he leaned back against his seat. His eyes drifted to the slowly-darkening sky out the window. 

“Wow,” Patton sighed. “Are sunsets just prettier when you’re on a road trip?”

“Perhaps,” Logan said, pushing his glasses up as he snuck a glance at the sunset as well. 

“It’s so beautiful.” Patton absentmindedly put his chin in his hand, almost dreamily. “I could stare at it for hours.” 

“You know,” Logan began, still looking out the window with Patton, “the human eye can perceive only a small part of sunlight that falls in the visible spectrum.”

“Yeah?” Patton asked, still dreamy, until his smile faltered and he asked; “Wait, what does that mean?”

Logan chuckled. 

“It means that we are not able to see all the colours of a sunset,” Logan explained. “See, as the sun starts to set, its light travels a longer distance. Particles in the atmosphere act as a prism for the light refraction; which is why we see red, orange, and pink hues within a sunset.”

“ Wow .” Patton smiled at the colours in the sky, which suddenly meant so much more. 

“It is quite fascinating,” Logan murmured. “You know, while humans are unable to see all the colours of a sunset, there are some organisms who can; particularly, those who can perceive ultraviolet light. It is theorized that they hence see a more colourful sunset.”

“That’s so cool! ” Patton grinned. “I wonder what colours they see. Maybe some that don’t even exist yet!” 

Logan gave him a small smile. “Perhaps.”

“How do you know so much about this kind of stuff?” 

“...I am a teacher, Patton.” 

“Oh!” Patton giggled. “Yeah, that would make sense!” 

Logan just gave him an amused nod as he watched the sunset with Patton through the diner’s slightly-dirty windows. 

“This is really nice,” Patton finally said after a bit of silence between the two. 

“I do not quite understand how being in a slightly...unmanaged roadside diner with an aesthetic emulating the 50’s leads you to this conclusion–” And here, Logan smiled– “but I am glad to hear that, Patton.”

“Of course!” Patton turned to face Logan. “I’m having a good time. And I really enjoy your company on this– let’s be honest– really weird adventure we’re going on.” 

Logan just chuckled again. 

“I know I’ve been kind of...well, awkward doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Patton continued, looking down almost shyly. “But that’s only because it’s all still hitting me, you know? It all doesn’t feel... real yet.”

Logan slowly nodded. 

“I can understand that. It takes a while to adjust, I suppose,” he said with a shrug. “But at least you can rest a little easier, now that you know how it happens. There has to be some solace in that, hm?”

Patton laughed, though it felt too small and sad. 

“I, um...I don’t know how it happens.”

Logan blinked. “You...you don’t?”

“Part of me was scared to know, obviously,” Patton explained, “but there’s– there’s just this other part of me that knows I shouldn’t be allowed to know...you know?”

“Everyone is allowed to know,” Logan said with a frown.

“No, I get that! And I respect people who choose to find out, obviously.” Patton sighed. “I guess I just don’t think it’s...fair.” 

“How so?”

“Well, it’s natural for us not to know!” Patton shrugged idly. “It’s sorta like not knowing is the most human thing out there. We never knew before– why should we know now?”

“...Huh.” When Patton looked up, Logan’s face was...well, unreadable. “I never really thought about it that way.”

“Do you know?” Patton asked.

A beat of silence. 

“Yes.” Logan cleared his throat. “It is peaceful, which I am thankful for, at least.”

Patton just smiled sadly. “You deserve it.”

Their food came not too long after and it was quiet for a while until Patton decided to sweep in with a lighter story; one that didn’t show too much of the edge Patton sat on. 

But to his surprise, as he began to talk avidly about something he thought Logan wouldn’t be really interested in, Logan smiled at him.

And then, they ended up talking about everything — funny family anecdotes, stories about their jobs, their likes and dislikes; everything. Halfway through the conversation, Patton realized that the sunset had disappeared and the diner was almost empty. It shocked him for a split second — he didn’t even feel like a minute had passed, let alone an hour or two.

And it suddenly hit him how interesting Logan was; and how easy it suddenly was for him to talk to Logan without thinking too much of it, or of anything around them. They were talking as if they knew each other from a different life; like old friends with the same mind. 

“I cannot believe you met Hans Zimmer,” Logan said, his eyes uncharacteristically wide and starry. Patton blushed. 

“I didn’t really meet him,” Patton said meekly. “One of my friends from school was interning at a movie studio in LA and they were showing me around when I came to visit them. I just happened to bump into him and be...well, over enthusiastic about it until he left.”

“Amazing,” Logan murmured. 

Patton giggled as the waitress came over to their table to take their bill.

Suddenly, a familiar tune floated out of a jukebox in the corner. Patton’s eyes lit up. 

“They’re playing my song!” 

Logan blinked. “What?”

“I chose a song out of the jukebox like, an hour ago!” Patton stood up, slowly bobbing his head to the beat of the music. “They’re finally playing it! Thank goodness, I was starting to think I did it wrong or something!”

“When did you even–”

“Come on!” Patton exclaimed as a loud, colourful burst of instruments blared from the small jukebox. He outstretched a hand to Logan. “We have to dance.”

Logan shook his head, but was smiling. “We do not have to do anything.”

“Yes we doooooo!” Patton waved his hand in front of Logan. “It’s a 50’s diner! There’s a jukebox playing a bop– a juke-bop! We have to dance! That’s what they probably did– um, back then!” 

Logan looked down at Patton’s hand and then back up at Patton, who did his best to smile as wide as he could. 

“We could do the juke- box step,” Patton said, waggling his eyebrows. 

To his surprise, Logan kept staring at him. 

And, for a split second, his stare lacked that knowing he was familiar with.

Patton lowered his hand slightly, a bit confused. 

Then, Logan took his hand. 

“Yay!” Patton cheered, filled with that vibrant feeling once more. He grabbed Logan and pulled him towards the empty space near the jukebox. Logan rolled his eyes, and Patton felt the tense-feeling in Logan’s hand loosen. 

“Okay, just follow my lead.” Patton began to bob his head in an exaggerated way, motioning for Logan to echo the movement.

Logan sighed, rhythmically bobbing  his head to the music while rooted in his place. His foot tapped to the beat as he crossed his arms.

Patton laughed. 

“Oh come onnn!” Patton took Logan’s arms and shook them free, grabbing his hands and spinning him around. Logan broke into a wide smile. 

And when Logan laughed, it sounded prettier than any music Patton had ever heard.

---

Patton was already closing his eyes when he heard Logan speak.

“You’re...different.”

Patton lifted his head to look at Logan. “Hm?”

“You’re different from the people I know,” Logan said, his eyes still on the road ahead of them.

Patton straightened up in his seat. “I am?”

“For starters,” Logan began, “I have never met a musician before. I was always fascinated by the industry, but from a distance. I never understood how one could just...draw inspiration from nothing to make, well, anything .”

Patton chuckled. “It’s a lot less difficult than you’re led to believe! The world is just stuffed with little nooks and crannies where inspiration hides. It’s just a matter of finding it, which is the fun part!”

“See, and that’s why I am just so...confused by you,” Logan murmured. “You treat music and family and, well, life as something so fun– and you give so much love to everything you are a part of. Tonight was just further proof of that.”

Patton blushed. “Aw, Logan! Thank you!”

“It’s true,” Logan sighed. “And so I am just confused as to why you weren’t given more time.”

A beat of silence. Patton’s smile fell. 

“...Oh.” He laughed nervously. “Well, isn’t that just the million dollar question?”

“It’s just that the Clinic is supposed to reflect a system built on payoff and reward–”

“The system is wrong ,” Patton cut him off. More quietly, he added, “That’s all.”

Logan was seemingly stunned in silence because he didn’t respond. Patton sighed. 

“Sorry,” he said meekly, rubbing the back of his neck and fixing his stare on the road in front of them instead of at Logan. “I’m...well, I’m no expert on politics or whatever, but I do have a pretty good idea on what is right and the Clinic? That’s...that’s not it.”

“How so?” Logan’s words seemed like they were walking on a tightrope. Patton shifted in his seat. 

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Patton explained, feeling his words grow more bitter as he continued. “Not to get, like, all philosophical on you, but it just doesn’t seem fair. I said it before, it’s natural for us to not know how it happens. And then you have these– these people , out here deciding how a complete stranger should be allowed to live their life before it even started?”

He snuck a glance at Logan. His jaw was seemingly clenched and his hands were tightly gripping the wheel. Patton winced.

“Gosh, what am I talking about.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his frustration deflating. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to sound so rude. I...I get that it’s a ‘gift’ or however people describe it. And if I was really that upset about my time, I could have made an Appeal to see if there was at least some possibility that I could have more. It’s just…” 

Patton closed his eyes. “I guess part of me just wishes I was on the luckier side of it all.”

He shook his head with a soft chuckle. 

“It’s selfish and wrong to be so self-serving. I’m sure they’re giving time to people more deserving of it than some one-hit-wonder musician.” Patton leaned his head against the window with a sigh. ”But...but I know people who deserved more time; people who didn’t get the chance to give even the smallest amount of anything to the world. Who knows, it could’ve been enough for them to be granted the time they deserved in the end.”

“Like your father?”

Patton grew tense. He averted his glance. 

“No one should know,” he ended up saying. “Knowing something just makes it easy to...to exploit it.

Logan’s breath hitched.

“I…” Patton watched as his grip on the wheel loosened. “Knowledge is an incomparably valuable, multi-purposeful tool. And it is instrumental in identifying and solving any problem.”

“I don’t know if I’d call death a ‘problem’.” A pause. “Well, I mean it’s a problem for me right now, sure, but in general? I don’t think life can exist without it.”

“You raise a valid argument,” Logan hummed, “but life is the only thing we humans truly know. We know nothing about death– it’s not like it is a problem, it’s just something that has changed so drastically. Death, at some point in time, was inevitable; but now… now it’s something we can control and learn more about. It is one of the most harmful forces we can ever come across in our lives and now we know how to stop it. And I understand your argument but...but don’t you think that we’re getting closer to knowing how to save everyone from it?”

There’s a twinkle in his eye as he spoke. Patton frowned. 

“I don’t know if it’s something, like...hurting us.”

“It’s just taking away our potential.” Logan took a moment to look at Patton. “It’s taking away the potential for people like you to truly explore all of what life has to offer.”

A beat of silence. 

“Agree to disagree then,” Patton murmured. He gave Logan a small smile after sitting in the silence for a bit. 

“You know,” he said, “I don’t know if I’d want to live forever.”

“Yeah?” Logan was no longer looking at him. Patton idly looked out the window and sighed. 

“Because at some point...wouldn’t it just come full circle?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you already know everything about living,” Patton explained, “wouldn’t you just end up wanting to know more?”

Logan didn’t respond. Patton shrugged. “I just don’t know if I want to spend my whole life worrying about not knowing. At that point...well, I think I’d just be content with leaving it up to imagination.”

Patton was met with silence once more; though it felt less unsettling than before. Still, Patton ended up nervously humming to try and fill the void of their conversation. 

After what felt like hours, Logan finally said, “Huh.”

“What’s up?”

“...You are different.”

And from the corner of his eye, Patton saw Logan smile.

--- 

“...Patton?”

“Mhm?”

“If I were to ask for a song–”

“Ah, sure! Any requests?”

“...Surprise me.”

- 

Logan listened intently to the way Patton plucked the strings of his ukulele; and the way Patton’s breathing sounded like (slow, deep; ready ) before he sang. 

“You had a dream you were up in the sky, down from the stars you then started to fly…”

Logan couldn’t help but smile as he exited the highway to find a motel, the night sky stretching far beyond them.

“And from there you could see as you fell through the miles, the place where you lived through the telephone lines…”

His eyes were beginning to feel heavy, but he stifled his yawn behind his hand so he wouldn’t miss a word Patton sang.

“There’s the yard and the trees, the roses you like; When you woke up and you knew you’d be fine.”

It kept Logan awake– no, alive – to hear his voice. 

“If it happened to be the place where it ends, at least you would know how to land on a means to a mend…

---

next chapter >

[charlottedabookworm]

So, idea for how the Aulea!Ardynson idea might go! (Thought you might be amused!)

So, Noctis, for a school assignment, has to put together a family tree.  It’s - almost stupidly easy to get the information regarding his father’s side of the family; there is literally an entire department dedicated to the lineage of the blood of Lucis Caelum. It is - extensively documented, to say the least. But when Noctis starts looking into his mom’s side of the family - that’s a bit more complicated.

Noctis has. Pretty much no memories of his mom. But he looks through the information available, he finds out the name of his maternal grandmother - and he never knew his mom was from Galahd! That’s actually pretty interesting - marked as ‘deceased.’ But, no matter how he looks - he can’t find out a ‘date of death’ for his maternal grandfather.

Meaning that the man might still be alive.

Noctis asks his dad about this. Regis is stunned, because - how did they miss this?! Aulea never talked much about her parents; he knew that her mother was dead and her father was - not estranged, but there was something about how he had a very busy job and liked to wander and ended up missing their wedding because he was simply too far away when the announcement went out to get back in time (a lie; Ardyn was there in the crowd, watching as his daughter became Queen of Lucis - the title that, unknown to all but his family, was hers by right of blood as well as marriage). And then it just. Slipped his mind?

They have the name that Aulea listed - a fake, not that they know it, but a very well-forged fake that’s successfully withstood the test of time - and they start looking. Noctis is. Tentatively hopeful/excited? A new family member, someone related to his mom, someone who might - might be family, might see him as family and not as Prince Noctis? Regis is baffled - why didn’t the man, his father-in-law, and gods, but that’s a strange thought, get in contact earlier?

And then the investigation turns up the fact that one of the ‘glaive has the same identity listed as the former Queen’s father as his father.

Nyx doesn’t know why he’s in medical, or why they’re politely asking him for a blood sample, but he’s not particularly worried? He only starts getting suspicious that something is going on when the Prince comes bursting in and stares at him, before going ‘You’re my Uncle?’

Submitted by @hamelin-born

Okay, wow, I love this. Just, Noct finding out by sheer accident via school project that his maternal grandfather is alive and that he has a uncle in Lucis and just wow.

Also:

Fuck. Nyx thought, staring at the Crown Prince - his nephew, Lea’s son and he had her eyes and oh, but Nyx hadn’t realised that it’d hurt this much to see a lack of recognition in his sister’s eyes - even as the kid stared back at him.

And he was all set to deny it, it wasn’t safe - for Noctis more than anything - for him to be a known relation of Nyx, not after what the Draconian had done to Lea, but there’s heartbreak and hope in his eyes at the thought of Nyx pushing him away and the King - Lea’s husband who she’d loved so much, and is part of the reason Nyx is so loyal to Regis - was standing behind him and this was Lea’s son and he’d promised Lea that he’d be there for him.

Nyx sighed and hoped his father would forgive him. “Ramuh protect them,” he whispered, hearing the comforting rumble of thunder in the distance, before crouching down in front of the kid. “Yeah. Yeah, kid, I’m your Uncle.”

“You knew? Why didn’t you say anything?” Noctis demanded, eyes flashing with anger and bitterness and something darkly vulnerable, and Nyx closed his eyes for a second.

Lea’s son should never look like that.

But he did and it was his fault, and he deserved every moment of that anger.

“Of course I knew,” Nyx scoffed, shoving away the pain. “Lea - your mum, she called me to scream for an hour after she found out about you. We got calls after every appointment and Lea sent copies of the ultrasound photos and, gods kid, she was so in love with you, even when you were just a little bean. And I’m sorry that I never told you. But it wasn’t safe. It still isn’t safe.”

“Safe?” The kid asked, disbelieving and incredulous, and Nyx got that, he did, the kid was Crown Prince of a country at war, he was never safe, but still…

The smile he directed at his nephew was bitter, dark with a sort understanding that had the King straightening with a frown. “Our family- we have a lot of powerful enemies, little light.”

“We have a lot of enemies, many of which would target even a babe to get back to us. It’s why my father so rarely visits. It’s why your mother said so little about us before her death, why she never mentioned her family and why we weren’t here for the wedding or your birth. It’s why I said nothing, even after I came to Insomnia. Our family has powerful enemies and it was decided before you were even conceived to limit contact to keep Lea, and then you, safe from them.”

[betratyal]

                       the first clear thought in years:                              I REFUSE TO DIE.

JACOB BATALON? No, that’s actually PETER PETTIGREW from the MARAUDERS ERA. You know, the child of AMBROSIA PETTIGREW and ALISTER MCALISTER? Only 20 years old, this GRYFFINDOR alumni works as a DISH WASHER and is sided with HIMSELF. HE/THEY identifies as AGENDER and is a HALFBLOOD who is known to be CUNNING, HUMOROUS and ALLOCENTRIC but also OBSESSIVE, PASSIVE and COWARDLY. 

LINKS – pinboard, stats, app. CHARACTER PARALLELS – winston bishop ( new girl ), sid jenkins ( skins ), charles boyle ( b99 ), edmund pevensie ( narnia ), eric forman ( that 70s show ), bunny corcoran ( the secret history ) AESTHETIC –  ketchup stains on band shirts, an incomprehensible minute long string of curses, tracing the veins in your wrist, the smell of breakfast and fresh coffee, card tricks at three in the morning, freddie mercury impersonations, lying on the floor of the kitchen staring a the ceiling for three hours, trembling hands holding a joint, a guilty grin. HEADS UP – this intro contains mentions of bullying, death, mental illness (eating disorders (bed & bulimia) and depression and anxiety), self destructive tendencies and weed. ive trigger warned each bullet point where it comes up.

history ( 1960 - 1978 )

peter was born to ambrosia pettigrew, a halfblooded scottish-filipino witch. his father -- a muggle -- was not in the picture and hadn’t been ever since he’d learned of ambrosia’s pregnancy; he would sent her money every now and then, in the first years of peter’s life, but was never in the picture. ( and that was for the best, thought ambrosia; she didn’t love him, and he was a muggle, but still --- she was heartbroken and wished that she could give more to her son ).

peter grew up living with his mother in a small flat in glasgow. his grandparents lived nearby, and he spent a lot of time with them. peter learned how to be alone from a young age, with his mother working a lot and he himself lacking friends and peers to waste the days with --- as a child, he delved into fictional worlds ( superhero comics, roald dahl novels, animated tv shows ) and found friends there.

bullying tw / went to muggle elementary as well, but never felt at home there. he was the odd one out: his clothes didn’t fit well, his nervous habits were annoying to his classmates, his words were too clumsy and his eyes too shifty. he didn’t mind not having friends ( or so he thought, until he did have them ) but he did mind being picked on and teased. end of tw

death tw /  his grandmother died when he was seven and it was devastating; peter’s family was so small and compact, his social world so limited, that it had a huge impact. his relationship with his grandfather did grow much stronger through it. end of tw 

and then peter finally went to hogwarts! and peter made friends for the FIRST TIME. and he found a second home! ah, my god --- peter was so happy, he was really so hyped and in awe of his life and his friends. it all felt a bit surreal; especially because he looked up to james and sirius and remus so much --- james, mainly, but all of them were so amazing, and he was so amazed that they liked him, too.

peter always loved heroes. he loves comic books and people who save the day and get the girl and do it all. i think he kind of … projected that onto james and sirius especially? did not know how to do this friendship thing as an 11 year old tbh, was a mess, was blinded by their amazingness damn, and thus kind of hero worshipped them, didn’t see their flaws and faults.

re: peter being a gryffindor; peter admires heroism and bravery and chivalry, and it’s your values that get you sorted some place. and he always did try to be brave, and he WAS in a lot of moments, because he became a damn animagus for his bud! i mean! he was not a hatstall btw  — i choose to ignore that stupid bit of post canon. it took a while for the hat, sure, but no more than two minutes.  

peter was a pretty bad student, to be honest. not because he was stupid, but because he’s just not build for school. deadlines? exams? homework? no thank you --- those were both sources of stress and horribly tedious things and peter was much too occupied with shenanigans and having fun. peter learned better in different settings: he got very good at certain charms because they allowed him to be lazy ( hello, accio! ) and was able to put his mind to becoming an animagus because there was a necessity and a proper motivation, and became better at potions because of all the hangover potions he brew. 

becoming an animagus for remus was ! important ! to peter ! he did it for remus, not because of peer pressure, or anything else — he did it because it was right, and his friend deserved it and ! he did it, too, because he could. sure, his transfig grades may have been more than poor, but the kid did have some skill. he just needed motivation, which mcgonagall didn’t give (bc. she scared him.) and this situation? motivated the hell out of him.

peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t taken a bit aback when he learned about remus’ lycanthropy — not because he was scared of him, to be honest, but he was just ? shocked ? he was more scared for remus, and so sad? so fucking sad for him? : ( he cried

he also loved spending his time at hogwarts playing games; from muggle card games to chess to gobstones. collected chocolate frogs Very Seriously as well, and still does tbh.

weed & anxiety tw / peter started smoking pot in the summer between his fourth and fifth year, and never really stopped. it made him slack more at school, but also eased his anxiety, which had started to develop in his fourth year. as months passed, peter became more and more of a stoner, which made him both more relaxed and funnier, but also … a whole of a lot lazier. end of weed tw

peter had always been a bit … fidgety, easily on edge, a bit nervous, but he’d never really known anxiety until around fourteen years old. his insecurities grew, as he started comparing himself more to his friends and finding nothing but things he lacked in comparison to them, and questions as to why they put up with him. end of anxiety tw

so his schooldays mostly looked like … doing nothing, playing games, having fun with his mates, getting high, forgetting his homework, stressing about homework, and somewhere, in a tiny corner of his being, worrying about the war. whenever those worries started coming up, though, he was able to push them away, because the war was not yet there, not for him at least. there was graduation to worry about first, and once that was done, then he could worry about the war.

post graduation - now ( 1978 - 1980 )

peter joins the order along with his friends, because it was what was right. peter believes in their cause, hates the death eaters, hates discrimination and racism and terrorism --- of course he fucking does, and so he joins, even though he feels incompetent. i have written a lot about this in his app too, which is linked above! 

he starts working as a dishwasher in muggle glasgow, preferring a bit of a break from the wizarding world every now and then. peter’s not unambitious, per se, but he doesn’t have enough faith in himself to try and pursue a career ( and besides, what’s the point in the midst of a war? ). plus, peter doesnt need any more stress on his plate, and dish washing is laidback and at least kind of fun. 

depression & weed & eating disorder (bed/bulimia) tw | peter feels useless in the order, though. he seems to lack the skills, the guts, the everything that the people around him have. before, their heroics mightve inspired him; now they just make him feel like a shitty person, like a burden. peter starts secluding himself a little, hiding in his mother’s home. he smokes more pot. he sometimes goes almost week without seeing someone besides his mum and his coworkers. he watches too much telly and reads comics and drowns in fictional worlds and he becomes depressed. he sinks into it without noticing and can’t come back from it. his eating habits ( which have always bordered on unhealthy ) turn worse; peter binges, and then restricts, falls into a cycle. it’s the only routine he has.

when he’s around his friends, he lives up a little. he cracks jokes and wants to play games and laughs and feels a bit more alive, but he always craves his time on his own. that’s his new way to feel safe: to stick to his newly found routine, hidden in his room, away from reality. | end of tw

the idea to join the death eaters comes out of fear. peter feels like the order is losing, and feels like death is inevitable. i dont know how true this is, but the fact is that the death eaters are ruthless and that his life is on the line because of his position. i wrote a Lot about this in his app too, so if u want a more comprehensive explanation i’d def read it here, its the second hc!

he joins, because he thinks it will give him a saver position. play both sides, play for the winning side --- he’s always had a bit of an opportunistic streak, which definitely helps sway his decision. in the end he’s just afraid of dying, and that’s why he joins; he’s twenty, his life has hardly started --- he doesn’t want to die, no cause is worth that, none at all. ( he should have just ran )

he joins in may 1978, for timeline reasons, so he’s been a death eater for only a few months. it’s been a lot different than he imagined ----- peter thought he’d blend in the background quietly, that he’d have to do shitty jobs ( which is true ) and that he’d be left alone. he underestimated it, because well --- he was desperate when he joined, and he didn’t think about the consequences, and he didn’t think about how voldemort’s cruelty wasn’t just reserved for his enemies but for his followers, too. there’s no stepping out of line with the death eaters; mistakes are not treated lightly and peter --- afraid, a bit of a bumbling idiot, learns this quite soon.

his function is mostly just to be a spy; relay information and share plans, name members, etcetera. he’s not very active because he’s a spy, but i imagine that he is present at the bigger meetings. AND FML HE’S GOOD AT IT! he’s good at lying and sneaking and being a sly bastard --- he used those skills for pranks, once. now he uses it to betray his fellow prankers : D

peter, at that point, hates himself. he’s always had a bit of self loathing, but it’s gained the upper hand now and he’s drowning in it; it does allow for him to ignore his conscience, though, for him to ignore the reality and just stew in his negativity. he’s got a woe is me mentality, for sure, and he’s so god damn passive about his situation. 

timeclash reaction.

peter’s reaction to the timeclash was ... a lot. i wrote about it in his app, so if u want to read my whole ass rambling, i rec that. but tldr: he’s shocked, at what he becomes. the peter he is now is a traitor, yes, but he’s not yet the person who ends up betraying james and lily and harry, who frames sirius --- and it’s ground shattering to find out that he’s on the road to become such a person. 

self destructiveness, weed, alcohol tw / his self loathing grows more. peter wasn’t doing very well before, but the timeclash makes something snap inside him --- he abandons his needs, punishes himself in small ways, loses sight of himself. he drinks and smokes too much. he’s so scared of himself. he’s in hiding, when he first finds out, scared of his friends and the death eaters and the order members and the people from the future who have met a worse version of him end of tws

part of peter is also like “i havent done any of these things yet, i know i am not the BEST person but i am still . not That Bad! stop being mad for something i havent done yet!”

around this time, he’s realising that he can either keep hiding, that he can completely destroy himself and all the ties he has, or he can take this opportunity to change his course. to not become the person all these people from the future know, to change change change, to make up for the wrongs he has committed and the wrongs he will commit if he keeps on going the way he is --- and that’s where he’s at now.

on another hand, he definitely watched all the star wars movies that came out over the past 50 yrs and hates kylo ren and cried when han died!!! he is in awe of the mcu movies but also thinks they did the comics dirty. i wish someone would introduce him to video games bc he would cry from happiness.

personality & details

OKAY onto the fun stuff, that was way too depressing and peter is usually a comedic icon

peter parker is his favourite superhero just because … they share a first name and because peter parker is a bit of an underdog too and peter is just like! amazing! he named his owl parker.

he hates cats. used to love them — he was allowed to take the cat from home with him to hogwarts when he was eleven, but he brought him back home after an unfortunate incident where his cat nearly ate him while he was in his animagus form. “sorry ma, i don’t love him any more. here. have him.”

peter is actually a solid cook. this is because he learned to make some basic food when he was still a kid, first with his grandma, and later on his own. he liked doing it for his mother and he was. .. good at it? peter is also just passionate about food and finds comfort in cooking. breakfast food and baked goods are Prime Food Categories.

he is asexual af, panromantic. has kissed both guys and gals and nb pals but did not like it??? confused. does not understand sexuality and all that jazz but tries not to think abt it because like! he’s got enough stress! doesnt need to think abt this!

peter is also agender, but i think he’s a lot less aware about this, because it’s confusing and so he just tries not to think about it. he does feel okay with he/him pronouns, but just doesn’t feel connected at all to being a boy/man

peter has abandonment issues because his dad, well, never even bothered to be there. not even for a second. he’s just constantly scared that people will leave and it’s funny, because he will probably end up abandoning all of his loved ones KDJFHSDF.

peter is quite non confrontational but also not … meek? he just avoids it, either by physically staying out of people’s way or by dismissing most of the things said and getting out of there. a Passive Kid. 

he’s such a fucking dork i swear to god. but he’s funny! peter is really funny. i deeply believe in this. he makes great puns and is able to just come out of nowhere and make a comment that just. hits the nail right on its head.

peter curses a lot and has a scottish accent and sometimes he will have a minute long cursing session that no one rly understands.

[goldenvindication]

annie’s christmas 2009

whoops // @pleasantprefects

The train ride home was silent. At Brighid’s urging, Annie had decided to go home, much to her mother’s delight. The Express was bustling, full of students excited to see their family for the holidays, but Annie’s compartment was silent. She sat next to Brighid, the air stuffy and suffocating. Annie pressed her face to the window, watching snow fall across the English countryside.

She’d resorted to pushing all thoughts of Professor Murray and the Vindication out of her mind. That wasn’t close to being the least of her troubles, but there were more pressing issues. This would be the first Christmas without Papa since Annie had been alive. She’d always gone back home for Christmas and Papa had always met her at the station, and they’d drive back home singing Muggle Christmas carols that played on the radio of his station wagon.

Now, it would be Mum coming to meet her. Mum had never done this, the only time she’d been to King’s Cross with Annie was to see her off her first year. It didn’t feel real. The last few months had felt like such a bad dream, the only bright points had been Divination, for a little while, until Ira had made her destroy the tower, and Brighid.

Before Annie had a chance to even smile at her companion, the train had stopped and both of them got up, grabbing their trunks. Annie’s fingers brushed over Brighid’s hand as they left the train.

“Write me, yeah?” Annie murmured. Brighid’s eyes met hers, and the darker haired girl nodded. “Happy Christmas,” She said, giving Brighid a quick smile. Brighid returned the sentiment, then left to find her own family.

A petite, blonde woman stood towards the back of the platform, looking spectacularly out of place in her yellow a-line dress and string of pearls. Annie had her father’s eyes and smile, but when Louise Castellaine laid eyes on her daughter, it took all of her strength not to scream. Annie searched the crowd of parents for her mother, and upon seeing her mother, she ran, politeness be damned. Louise gathered her daughter in her arms, kissing her head.

“I missed you, dear one,” Louise murmured, rubbing circles on Annie’s back. “Your grandparents missed you too. They’re excited to see you.” Annie nodded, holding back tears as she hugged her mother tight.

Louise pulled back, eyes glimmering. “Let’s go home. Is that your cat?” She gestured to the crate that Annie had put down next to her suitcase. Cat’s ears perked hearing her name.

“Erm, yeah, that’s Cat.” Annie picked up her case and Cat’s crate, then followed her mother back home.

Annie’s grandparents lived in a small house in between hers and her cousins’. It had been like this since before Annie was born, when the mansion her mother and uncle had grown up in was destroyed during the War. During Christmastime, the whole street smelled like gingerbread and Christmas pudding from Aunt Malia’s bakes. There was always a big gingerbread house to decorate in Grandmother’s kitchen on Christmas Eve, and Papa used to help Roscoe and Annie decorate it, when all of the other cousins were too old or disinterested.

This year, none of that was the case. As Annie entered her home, there was no warm glow from the fireplace. Papa’s easy chair was vacant, and the latest copy of the Gazette was nowhere to be seen. Mother must have cancelled the subscription. The house was messy from a lack of Papa’s meticulous Sunday cleaning, and the sofa looked slept-on, the quilt that usually lay across the back was in a crumpled mess at the floor. This wasn’t the home that Annie looked forward to coming back to each December. This didn’t feel real, this was like an awful fever dream where everything was turned upside down.

Annie let Cat out of her carrier. Ignoring her mother’s hospitable questions, Annie went back to her bedroom and breathed out a sigh of relief. It was exactly how she’d left it -- a canopy bed, a white wooden desk, a soft blue comforter, all untouched. She let out a sigh, flopping down on her bed. It smelled like home.

She fell asleep fast, a long day of travel and trying to prepare for this day filled her with emotional exhaustion. Her sleep was dreamless, as it should be. She couldn’t bear seeing her Papa, or Alis Murray, even if they were contrived.

A sharp knock on her door snapped Annie out of her slumber the next morning. She woke up to see her mother, waiting in the doorway with a plate of pancakes.

Annie followed her mother into the dining room, and the two ate in silence. The food wasn’t in any way near as good as the Great Hall’s, nevertheless the ones that Papa would make on Christmas Day.

After breakfast, Annie stood up, picking Cat up in her arms, and walked past her mother into her mother and father’s room, blindly hoping he’d be there sleeping like normal. The sight she saw… shocked her.

Only one side of the bed was messy, her father’s. Her mother’s side of the bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in for weeks. Papa mustn’t have made the bed even when he was alive, and he was always meticulous about how the house looked. Annie felt sick to her stomach. She put Cat down and turned to her mother.

“What went on while I was away?” She snapped, staring her mother in the eye. Louise sighed, putting the tray of cookies down on an end table. “What happened with you and Papa? Why was he at the pub that night? He never used to drink for fun, I knew something had happened, I knew it.”

Louise took a deep breath. “Your father and I, Annie, we- you know we were having troubles, dear,” She began. Annie’s brown eyes darkened with hurt. “We- before your father left for the bar, I asked him if- if he would move out of the cottages, just for a little bit, and he-”

“He didn’t take it well.” Annie interrupted. “He didn’t take it well, and he went out drinking, and it’s all your fault,” She accused, backing out of the doorway. “It’s your fault! It’s your fault he’s dead! Get out!” Annie’s eyes filled with hot tears. “Get out!” She yelled, running into her room and slamming the door in her mother’s face.

Annie sat down on her desk chair, tears still falling down her cheeks. She grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment and began to write. Annie didn’t care that she’d seen Brighid not even twenty four hours ago. Hadrian wouldn’t care about Annie’s problems, Lia had a perfect family, the only one who would understand was someone who’d been betrayed by a parent too.

Dearest Brighid,

I am sorry for the lack of reprieve from my company -- I would have given you a break from my words if only I were able. I am afraid I write to you in anger, as I have found new information about my father’s death and the time surrounding it.

Don’t worry, it has nothing to do with our friends, though I have little doubt that they were involved in his death, somehow. The way that  Superbia spoke to me during the party has given me suspicion, more than I’d already harbored.

My father’s presence at the pub that night was no coincidence. It was my mother’s fault. Apparently they’d been fighting for weeks on end. I do not know how I missed this, but it must be because of my endless selfishness, I used to only see what I wanted to see. I believe this has grown less prominent due to my involvement with our little group, although I would not know. I am nowhere near that self-aware.

My mother asked for a divorce that night, which is why my father left for the pub. I knew there was foul play somehow involved there, but I had no idea it was my mother’s doing. After all, I knew Papa would never go to a pub on his own volition, he was never that kind of man.

But Brighid, I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know how to face my mother. I don’t even know how to face my grandparents -- they were never quite in favor of him, due to his… muggle-ness.

I don’t expect advice, but you said you’d write. Just reading your words would be a comfort. I realize that I am quite vulnerable with you, and of course I never expect you to do the same. I have been told that I am much too trusting.

Write back whenever you are able, I’m sure that seeing your grandfather is taking up much of your time.

Sincerely,

Annie

Tears stained the parchment that Annie folded into the envelope, then sealed with wax. She’d have to face her mother to get this to the family owl. The thought sickened her as she placed the envelope back on her desk and her feet carried her back to her bed.

Annie’s pillow was wet by the time she fell asleep.

[rcseskies]

INTRODUCING VALDEZ’ LOCAL :

                                                        T H E    V I X E N

have you seen leilani vrioni? they sure have been hanging out at warehouse a lot recently. they are a/n twenty three year old known as the vixen, and they currently work for the savages as a soldier, which they’ve been doing for two weeks. a heterosexual libra, they are reliable + resourceful, as well as calculating + deceitful.

tw; death and illness mentions

leilani roze vrioni van buren was actually conceived in berat, albania but was born in london, england. she is the product of a one night stand her mother, althea vrioni, had in her hometown with a foreigner. her father was ( or is he’s probs alive possible connection idk ) from the netherlands and would soon return to his home and leave behind a pregnant althea. therefore, her father was never someone who was in her life. 

upon the realization that she was pregnant, her mother had gone in search of her one time lover only to be told that he had left to the states. his mother, however, was a major and key role in leilani’s upbringing. it was her father’s mother who had asked althea to give the girl her father’s surname. her mother would oblige in adding the surname but as her second one, unhyphenated. this meant that it was not to be used unless for legal reasons. she was named by her paternal grandmother, technically, but the woman had given lani the name her father had always said he wanted for a daughter. so... really, she was named by her father who did not know she existed. 

the van buren family had bought althea a flat in london and would proceed to pay for leilani’s education the moment she was old enough to attend. so althea spent her pregnancy in london where her daughter would be born on october 17th, 1995. 

growing up, it was lani and her mum - always. ( up to around the age of eleven when her mom would marry a nice french man that would sadly pass away four years later leaving behind a son and baby girl on the way ) she would become fluent in three languages, english for school and with her mum, albanian with her maternal family ( occasionally at home when her mother wanted to practice ), and dutch for her paternal family. every summer they would fly to albania where they spent half of the vacation with her mother’s family and then they would fly to the netherlands were they spent the rest of them with her father’s family. holidays were alternated between the families but birthdays were always in london. nobody spoke of her father, he was but a distant memory to most with the occasional calls he made to his mother. he’d left to the states and never looked back. 

at the age of three, leilani was enrolled in dance lessons. ballet, lyrical, jazz, flamenco, salsa, anything and everything would be taught to her in the studio and perfected by a personal teacher her grandmother had hired. miss claire had toured europe with the russian nutcracker and had been in countless shows. she was of italian origin and would not only mold leilani’s dance technique but contribute to her learning of the italian tongue. 

eventually, leilani would go on to compete and win, many, many titles. however, in addition to her dancing career - she would double in the modeling field as many dancers did. she began to model at the age of fifteen but made it big when she was eighteen because her contracts would expand and more companies showed interest. she’d made the cover page of four different magazines a year later and europe knew her name. ( she just barely made the height requirements to model by being exactly on the cutoff at 5′6 but it was enough to keep her in the game. )

her paternal family had set her and her mother off to a stable financial level before she was born and her mother had made needs end with her job as a chef but it was leilani that brought the wealth. her, her looks and her talent. 

at the age of twenty one, the states would call and the next thing she knew - leilani was off to america with her mother and little siblings. upon arrival, she was offered four different contracts but would follow the guidance of her trusted agent whom came along as well and would make millions working for a modeling agency that had her shooting with the finest fashion lines. 

her family was well off and she’d worked hard to ensure their stability. however, at the age of four, her baby sister was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy, the disease in which it is harder for your heart to pump blood to the rest of your body. she would proceed to undergo treatments, all of which were paid for by leilani. her little sister's illness was a major contributor to her moving to the states for the bigger modeling gigs because she knew there were outstanding cardiologists to further aid her health. 

however, a month before lani’s twenty third birthday - her little sister was rushed to the hospital and two days later her heart failed. leilani was devastated at the loss of her beloved sister.

with a heavy heart, leilani would force herself into the shadows. modeling gigs would be denied and the press was left wondering where leilani vrioni had gone. they knew of the vrioni’s loss but not how deep it ran and would ease up after one final interview where lani announced that she was not returning to the spotlight. instead, she’d leave her fortune in her mother’s hands and ran off to a small town by the name of valdez. 

the world of hollywood, modeling and the lime light meant there needed to be claws and spark. lani had far too much spark and her claws were far too sharp. she was sassy and quick with her comebacks which made it that much easier to remain on the top. nobody dared to cross the european model in fear of having their careers ruined before they could even begin. she was sweet to her family, more than anyone else but was kind to her fans because she knew they were the main reason for her success. 

before reaching fame, she had been the meaning of rebellion and adventure. her mother would beg her to fall in line and she would laugh lightly, kiss her mother’s forehead and promise that she would be fine.

however, she’s falling back into the life of a normal person in valdez. except, well, she’s still a bitch. just, now she’s a heartbroken bitch so her patience is thin and her comebacks are meant to hurt.

her confidence hasn’t wavered, though - she’s still very sure of herself and knows she’s very good looking. does not react well to being tried - she’ll fight you. verbally or physically, the girl will resort to violence without a second thought. deep down, however, she means well.

truly, she’s a sweetheart just nobody really sticks around long enough to see her kind hearted side.

back in london, she hung out with the wrong crowd more often than not and so gang life is not new to her nor does it scare her. 

kind of not afraid of anyone or anything ?? she’s cold hearted currently so like she's mean sorry anyways please love my newest trash child, she’s not all that bad. not true, she’s awful, sorry but like love her anyways.

[epicfics]

Humans Fic: 15 After Zero - 1) Know My Name

A/N: I wasn’t sure whether I should try this, as it’s so unorthodox. But my blog was feeling stale, so I did it anyways!

I’m sorry if I get the British educational system messed up, I tried to be as vague as possible but some things you can’t fake.

My name is Louisa Bell. I like football and electronica, and my favourite colour is red.

I recite these things like an actress, loud enough for a fly on the wall to hear, but not my mother. But even as I speak to the girl in the mirror, she mocks me with silence, her dark curls and hazel eyes stripping every word of it into a lie. Even the last bit – I doubt you’ll ever be so unfortunate to need to lie about your favourite colour.

But for me, the world is held together by a connected sharpness; the pitch of black, the blinding of white, and every vivid detail in between. There is no simple answer for anything.

Tension clenching my shoulders like claws, I close my eyes and allow my mind to run backwards in time. Memories flicker like brief commercials, until I settle upon one of Sophie Hawkins. Her medium-length hair is plaited back, displaying the silver chain around her neck – I’d given her the heart charm myself just before she left for university. With a wistful smile, she says, “This planet doesn’t need more people like me. It needs more like you.” Easy words for a girl who grew up like a flower under a sunbeam. I had about all the optimism of a lemon. And there isn’t enough sugar in the world for Sophie to sweeten that into lemonade.

I open my eyes to a bedroom that looks like the aftermath of a disaster film, surrounded by clothes that haven’t yet made it to the wash, and unlikely ever will. Household-cleaning Synthetics had stopped being manufactured altogether when I was seven. When the war hit its peak.

Mum reminds me it’s not safe to start attending school now. Some groups of Green-Eyed Synths are more radical than others, and I cannot speak against them or I will be in danger. I cannot speak for them, or I will be in danger.

“Lou?” Mum’s distant summons from the foyer is expected, as is what follows. “I’m not kidding around – if you want to stay home, feel free to just ignore me.”

Understandably, the situation has made her a bit terse. The news has never been easy on us, but when justice for Day Zero had at last been fully served two years ago, we’d needed to relocate to Bristol. In London, our name has spread like a virus through every district, and my last act before we moved away had been to temporarily paralyse a boy in another class that was organising a guerrilla-style revolt on a Synth army. Undoubtedly, here as Louisa Bell I would be commended for using my skill with pressure points to prevent tragedy. I would be famous as a holistic medicine practitioner rather than a crossbred creature.

“Louisa!”

I sigh, looking at the face in the mirror one more time. My father’s face.

My favorite colour is a prism. I like sharp objects and fire, and the sound of water crashing with the wind makes me feel alive. My name is Louisa Hawkins, and when I grow up I want people to know it.

 *** 

From Google Maps, Bristol looks largely like one large postcard-ready suburban utopia. Our neighbourhood seems to have sprung up out of a golf course. The school is a pile of neatly-stacked copper coloured bricks on a patch of black concrete. Mum sits in the driver’s seat of our parked compact car, shaking her head.

“What?” I ask her, ready to get out.

She mutters, “It looks like Waltringham.”

Waltringham, one of the earlier Synth free communities in England. Or as my grandmother calls it, Pleasantville 2020.

“Cool,” I say, blatantly nonchalant, opening the door with a click and a punch.

“Lulu?” I turn my head at the sound of my nickname. She uses it whenever she’s thinking about my father. But I know what she’s worried about.

I step out of the car and say, “I promise, Mum. I know what’s at stake this time.”

“Actually, I was gonna say…” she drew a breath. “It might not be worth it. You shouldn’t have to force yourself into this other person. It’s not healthy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell her, although I also want to laugh. Does anyone tell a chameleon not to change.

It’s only the third time we’ve been through this. Each year I make a mistake that pushes me further towards prison. And my father is not in prison anymore.

I can’t meet him if he doesn’t know where to find me.

I slam the car door shut and make my march toward Pleasantville 2.0.

 *** 

Contrary to my mother’s anxiety, the only fear I really had for today was being underdressed. I was expecting tidy jumpers and slacks, rather than biker jackets and jeans. Thankfully, I’m not entirely out of place here.

My classes run by quietly. Only when teacher announces discussion groups for current events does a knot in my stomach start stretching, waiting. We’re to choose a freestyle debate topic – an insane idea, really, as a band of fourteen-year olds might not grasp logic before passion in arguments better than some college kids can.

To my right, Owen is scribbling our ideas onto scrap paper. “New taxes. Continuing effects of Brexit. Copyright rules on fan-generated media.” He frowns. “No one’s gonna suggest resolution for the Green-Eye War?”

Well, I’d known that was coming. To be cool, I raise my eyebrows patronisingly and say, “I’d rather avoid starting a war in here.”

Clearly confused, Owen asks, “But who here’d want to side with the Synths?”

“You tell me, if you’re the one who wants to do a two-sided debate on it.”

“She’s got you in one, Owen,” says the girl on my right. Veronica. Striking, with dark red hair, and fair skin surrounding ruby lips and eyes as blue as a swimming pool. “Although, I don’t know why we’d rather spare this box of morons when anarchy is so much more fun.”

Her eyes catch mine, and she winks. And…I’m in love.

“Right, well because you said it,” sighs Owen, circling a topic. “Copyright issues it is. “Veronica will be on the side of the Internet, I’ll take on the concerns of the copyright - .”

She warns, “I will slaughter you.”

Showing no sign of fear, Owen then points at me, “Louisa, is it? You’ll play moderator.”

I twist my lips in frustration. I should be used to this designation as my former classmates refused to allow me more active participation, but still. New school, new rules.  “You reckon I’ll be better at listening to you both argue than having my own say?”

“What, you know right now already you’ll be good at this debate?” says Owen, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose. He stares at me in doubt.

“Probably. I’m good at everything.”

“Bully for you.” He groans, and then says to Veronica, “I suppose that’s the real debate right here.”

Veronica laughs, the sound bearing the carefree joy of a child. “Can you blame her though? You just went about putting us all in our places without any help.”

Looking as helpless as though Veronica paralysed him with pressure points herself, Owen snaps, “Okay. It’s Anarchy, 1 at Law and Order, 0. Little Miss Good-at-Everything gets to play the side of the copyright holders.” Then he leaves us to report our decision.

I smile sweetly in his direction and say softly, “Such a nice guy.”

Veronica snorts at this. “You can take the position of the content creators. I don’t mind a challenge.”

“Neither do I,” I confess. And while her smile warms me, I also think, I have no experience with the subject. I’ve never done anything creative in my life. In truth, I would be better moderating the debate between Veronica and Owen. But I hate it when my choices are made for me.

“By the way,” Veronica interrupts my thoughts. “That classroom war over the Synths? Already happened last year.”

I take care to ensure my tone is neutral before asking, “How did it end?”

Veronica smirks. “Bloody. About half of us wanted to crack down and use government resources to research a way to shut down all of their systems externally. Of course, there’s no telling how such a hack through that electronic network would affect other co-existing electronic networks. Your smart microwave could turn on and blow up your house!”

I shudder at this, but Veronica continues, “The rest of us, being the awesome freaks that we were, suggested looking for a truce with Leo Elster. Since, you know, he’s got some sway for all of it, being the son of the man that created them ,and the mastermind of Day Zero.”

Mastermind? There was no mastermind of Day Zero. Only a girl trying to save a Synth’s life, and later on a boy trying to save hers.

Does he have that much influence over the warring Synths, though? Doubtful, or there would be nothing to fight about now. But then, he’s only been out of prison for two years, thanks to my grandmother Laura’s strenuous efforts to get his sentenced reduced. For all I know, he could be starting a change.

I’ve never met Leo Elster. He was arrested before I was born. He claimed responsibility for delivering consciousness to every Synth on the planet so my mother didn’t have to. I’m not supposed to see him yet, not until Mum has deemed us safe. With who we are haunting our shadows, we’ll never be safe. Yet still, Veronica’s endorsement on his behalf makes me want to run out and find him. And maybe grab her by the arm and take her with me?

I want to say all this aloud and more. But with Owen returning, I shrug instead. “I wouldn’t know anything about it.”

Inwardly cringing from Veronica’s crestfallen expression, I open my notebook and write, Why Copywriters Should Negotiate a Truce –

I stop, rereading what I’ve just jotted down.

Maybe Leo Elster can negotiate a truce. Or maybe I can. With him. Because with the girl sitting next to me as living proof that there are humans with goodwill towards conscious Synthetics, I realise I may be able to reach people in a way that he, closed off as he is, cannot.

Forget what Mum said. By the synthetic additive in my DNA, I’ll find my father all on my own.

to be continued

[chooseywoozy]

Desire & Decorum, Book One: Chapter 1 - The Journey Ahead

(NOW PLAYING AS CARROT MILK)

The year is 1816 in your small, country village of Grovershire, England. You’re sprinting up a hill, the tall blades of grass hitting your knees. Your arms fly out to the side, catching the wind the faster you run.

Carrot: Ahh! It’s so nice just to escape for a moment…

Woman’s Voice: Carrot, there you are!

You turn around and see your best friend, Briar Daly, at the bottom of the hill. You smile and run down to greet her.

Miss Daly: I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised to find you here. You’ve always been a bit wild.

Carrot: I prefer free-spirited! But can you earnestly blame me, Briar? Look at all these flowers!

The two of you laugh as you set down the path towards town. As you turn down the road, a horse suddenly gallops across your path! The rider looks back at you…

Miss Daly: Can you believe the nerve of him? We are walking here!

Carrot: That rider was at least pleasant-looking. A glimpse of him may be the best part of my day.

Miss Daly: He had eyes for you. I could tell.

Carrot: Briar! He simply looked at us as he rushed by. That’s all.

Miss Daly: Ah, but it was a lingering look. If only he had stopped…

You shake your head and laugh. As the two of you continue walking, you hear Briar’s mother call out from far down the road…

Mrs. Daly: Carrot! You’d best hurry home! It’s your mother!

Carrot: No… Not Mama…

You take off sprinting down the road, kicking up dirt as Briar hurries behind you. You soon return to your cottage, hesitating outside the door. Briar takes your hand.

Carrot: I knew Mama’s illness was worsening, but… this could be the end. What am I to do?

Miss Daly: Have faith, Carrot. You’re strong enough for this.

Carrot: I hope you’re right.

You enter your mother’s room and fall to her bedside. Her brow is covered in sweat. Her voice is barely above a whisper…

Mama: Carrot, my sweet, I must speak to you before it’s too late… about your father.

Carrot: My father? But he died before I was born!

Mama: No… he didn’t. I have no been honest with you… He’s alive. In truth… your father is the Earl of Edgwater, the head of a large, powerful estate, just a day’s journey from here.

Carrot: What? Why would you hide this from me?

Mama: We were in love, but… his father forbade our marriage. The family cast me aside before I discovered I was with child. I did not want you to endure the heartache as I had and only be known as the bastard child of an earl… so I hid the truth.

Your mother grips your hand tight as she coughs violently. You rub her arm, waiting for it to pass.

Mama: I… made the best decision I could for you. Please… forgive me.

Carrot: Mama… There’s nothing to forgive. I understand your reasons. You wanted me to have the best life possible. I wouldn’t change a thing about our lives here. I only wish we had more time.

You kiss your mother’s hands, warming them in your own. Your mother tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.

Mama: I know, Carrot, but you ease a poor woman’s heart…

Your mother takes a deep breath, struggling to find her next words.

Mama: I wanted to tell you now because… I’ve written your father. He’s sending someone to take you to Edgewater Estate in a week’s time. He will watch over you after I… after I go.

Carrot: But why would he care now? After all this time?

Mama: He never knew about you before, but I know he’ll give you everything I could not. Will you go… for me?

Carrot: Yes, Mama. If that is your wish.

Your mother smiles weakly at you, cupping your cheek in her hand. Her breathing slowly as you notice her fading…

Mama: Be strong, my darling girl. Never forget who you are….

As she takes her next labored breath, your mother begins gasping for air.

Carrot: It’s okay, Mama. I’m here. You can sleep now.

You kiss your mother’s cold hands as she closes her eyes for the final time…

One week later…

You and Briar stand outside your cottage as a large carriage arrives. You hug Briar tightly.

Carrot: It’s time, but… how am I to survive at Edgewater without you?

Miss Daly: What if there was another way? I’ve spoken to my mum, and since there’s always work to be had in great estates like Edgewater… I could be your lady’s maid!

Carrot: Briar… I could never ask that of you!

Miss Daly: And you’re not! You know I’ve been looking for work lately. This would be a step up from Grovershire, and we’d still be together. Besides, someone needs to watch your back.

Carrot: Very well. Together.

Miss Daly: Good. Because I already said my goodbyes to my family, so I’m ready to follow you wherever.

Carrot: I suppose this is fair, seeing as your mum is looking after my house.

You look back at the cottage, and Briar squeezes your hand reassuringly.

Carrot: Wherever Mama is, I’m certain she’s smiling to see us still together.

Miss Daly: I doubt she would have wanted it any other way.

The carriage comes to a stop in front of your cottage, and a footman hops off the back. He bows courteously to you both.

Mr. Woods: Miss Milk, I presume? I’m Mr. Arthur Woods, under-butler and head footman at the Edgewater Estate.

Carrot: A pleasure to meet you. Allow me to introduce my dear friend, and now lady’s maid, Miss Briar Daly.

Briar offers her hand to Mr. Woods, grinning widely. He kisses it, locking eyes with her.

Mr. Woods: It’s enchanting to meet you, miss.

Miss Daly: I can only hope all the men at Edgewater are as charming and fine as you, Mr. Woods.

Mr. Woods: Well, I can say for certain you’re now the most alluring lady’s maid.

Mr. Woods blushes and finally pulls his gaze away from Briar.

Mr. Woods: If it pleases you, the Dowager Countess of Edgewater has made arrangements at a dressmaker’s shop along the way. When you’re ready, we’ll be off.

You and Briar slide into the carriage as the horses pull away from your house and arrive at a lavish shop not long after. You and Briar enter, noting the exquisite gowns, dresses, and hats surrounding you.

Carrot: I can hardly believe my eyes. I’ve never seen such marvelous clothes in my life!

Miss Daly: And I still cannot believe you’re an earl’s daughter! You need an outfit befitting of such a wealthy and powerful family.

Carrot: You do realise I’m still the same person I was a week ago, yes?

Miss Daly: That doesn’t mean you can’t wear something worthy of the title!

Briar flits around the shop, returning soon with several dresses.

Carrot: Are those all for me?

Miss Daly: Well, they’re not for me. Go ahead and try them on!

Carrot: I’m ready for my arrival at Edgewater!

Miss Daly: You look absolutely stunning! It’s as if I’m looking at a portrait! Let’s away. There’s not a moment to waste.

Soon, you’re back on the road, watching the countryside blur past your window. A few hours later, Mr. Woods calls out from the front.

Mr. Woods: Miss Milk, Miss Daly, we’re pulling into the drive now!

The carriage comes to a stop, and Mr. Woods opens the door. You step out, taking in the estate.

Miss Daly: Your father owns all of this?

Carrot: My word… This estate is absolutely breathtaking! I’ve never seen a place more gorgeous than this!

A groom rushes forward and takes care of the horses. He smiles warmly at you and Briar.

Groom: Welcome to Edgewater, miss. I’ve… We’ve been looking forward to your arrival.

Carrot: Thank you, sir. I’m glad to be here as well.

Groom: I hope it’s not out of place, but I wish you the best stay… and hope I’ll see more of you.

He bows curtly and escorts the horses back to the stables, while Briar mutters to you.

Miss Daly: Whoever he is, I do believe he’s taken a fancy to you already. Are all men as fine as him here?

Carrot: I concur. He was quite agreeable.

Miss Daly: Falling for the stablehand? My, Carrot, what a scandal you’ll cause.

Carrot: I highly doubt it. Besides, I’m sure I’d get lost just trying to find the stables.

You spin around once more, looking at the grand estate in front of you.

Carrot: I still can’t believe we’re here.

Noblewoman: If I were you, I wouldn’t become accustomed to it.

You spin around and notice a noblewoman glaring at you.

Carrot: I beg your pardon?

Noblewoman: Regardless of my dear husband’s intentions, you’re his bastard nonetheless.

Noblewoman2: That is quite enough, Countess Henrietta. Carrot is a guest of this house, and I don’t believe the earl would appreciate her being treated as any less.

Countess Henrietta: ‘Treat her less’? I’m simply reminding Carrot to know her place as the natural daughter she is.

Miss Daly: (whispered) Do you think all estates come with wicked stepmothers like her? Or were we fortunate enough to find the only one that did?

You stifle a laugh as Countess Henrietta sneers at you and Briar, then turns on her heels towards the house.

Noblewoman2: So sorry. Countess Henrietta insisted upon greeting you… But then, I suppose it’s her right as lady of the house.

Miss Daly: (whispered) I’m glad I’m not her lady’s maid. I should think I’d go completely mad.

Noblewoman2: You must be Carrot’s lady’s maid. Why don’t you settle her luggage into her room? I should like to speak with Carrot in private.

Briar curtsies to you both, and disappears into the house with your bags. The older noblewoman turns her gaze towards you, eyeing you carefully.

Noblewoman2: Hm, yes… I do see my son in you.

Carrot: Your son? So you’re…

Dowager Countess: Dominique, the Dowager Countess of Edgewater… and your grandmother. Turn for me, Carrot. I need to see what we’re starting with.

Your grandmother twirls her fingers, waiting for you to comply.

Carrot: You want me to turn? All right, since you insist…

You slowly turn in place, looking pensively at the dowager countess.

Carrot: Like this?

Dowager Countess: Precisely. It’s good to see you can take direction well.

Your grandmother nods to herself and continues to observe you fully.

Dowager Countess: Hm, good figure, strong facial features, demure personality… And a decent sense of style too. Perhaps we’ll make a lady of you yet.

Carrot: Thank you… I think?

Dowager Countess: You’re quite welcome. As soon as your mother wrote my son, he insisted on bringing you here. It won’t be easy going from a village girl to an earl’s daughter…. But if you have any of my son in you, you’ll be an accomplished lady, and a great jewel of Edgewater in no time.

Carrot: I’m honored that you think of me in that way, Lady Grandmother. I will try not to let you down.

As the two of you head towards the front door, it suddenly flings open! A familiar, brooding nobleman walks out briskly, coming to a full stop directly in front of you.

Carrot: Oh! You’re quite handsome!

The nobleman raises an eyebrow at you.

Nobleman: And you’re…

His eyes wander over you, and you notice the hint of a smile play on his lips.

Nobleman: Tolerable.

Carrot: Well, don’t mince words on my account, sir.

Your grandmother looks between you and the nobleman, her eyes lit up with amusement.

Dowager Countess: At long last. I’ve been anticipating this meeting for a while now… Especially when my granddaughter looks quite handsome today. Would you not agree, sir?

The nobleman smiles briefly, but quickly shakes it off, and nods in agreement.

Nobleman: I’ll admit the look is not entirely unbecoming.

Carrot: Thank you, Mister…?

Dowager Countess: Carrot, allow me to introduce Mr. Ernest Sinclaire, master of the nearby Ledford Park. And Mr. Sinclaire, may I present Miss Carrot Milk, my granddaughter?

Mr. Sinclaire: Ah, yes. You must be the Earl of Edgewater’s… natural daughter. He mentioned you would be arriving soon.

Carrot: At long last I can put a name to the face that nearly trampled me in Grovershire.

Mr. Sinclaire looks puzzled, thinking back. After a moment, his eyes light up in recognition.

Mr. Sinclaire: Oh, I do remember you! From when I rode through the village…

Dowager Countess: The two of you are acquainted?

Carrot: Only in passing, but the encounter remains etched in my mind. How could I forget such a hasty and ill-mannered meeting?

Mr. Sinclaire: Did you ever pause and take into consideration that I had pressing matters to attend to, miss?

Carrot: So ‘pressing’ that you could not afford one minute to apologise?

Dowager Countess: My dear, don’t tease Mr. Sinclaire so. He is one of the most eligible bachelors around…

Your grandmother drops her voice so only you can hear.

Dowager Countess: And one of the wealthiest landowners around as well.

You turn back towards Mr. Sinclaire, staring at the two of you with one brow raised.

Carrot: No wife, sir? I must admit I’m surprised that a man of your fortune is unwed. But perhaps your fortune will change shortly. I cannot imagine someone such as yourself remaining unmarried for long.

Mr. Sinclaire: ‘Such as myself’?

Carrot: You have wealth, position, good looks… Any young lady would be fortunate to be your wife… but only if she could get past your rough exterior. For I should imagine your faults would create quite the test for anyone labeled as your wife.

Mr. Sinclaire’s gaze remains fixed on you. You stare back, challenging him, while your grandmother smiles mischievously next to you.

Dowager Countess: My dear girl, I just realised you haven’t seen the gardens yet! In fact, Mr. Sinclaire’s grandmother helped me design them years ago.

Carrot: Truly? They look magnificent from here even. I can only imagine what they look like closer.

Mr. Sinclaire: I’m sure the dowager countess could tell you more, but there’s an array of flowers and statues next to Edgewater lake. My grandmother always said the best time to stroll through them was on a crisp spring day… much like today, in fact.

Dowager Countess: Why don’t you show Miss Milk the gardens yourself, Mr. Sinclaire? With your strong connection to the garden, you would be the perfect guide.

Mr. Sinclaire: Me? But I.. It’s not my property--

Carrot: Oh, is that all? I thought you were afraid to know me further, sir.

Mr. Sinclaire: Nonsense. You and I… What I mean is… Ahem. It would be my honor, miss. Would you accompany me a turn in the gardens?

Carrot: I’d love to explore the gardens with you.

Mr. Sinclaire: Shall we?

You slide your hand around Mr. Sinclaire’s outstretched arm. The two of you walk towards the nearby gardens as the dowager countess calls after you.

Dowager Countess: Enjoy. You will not regret the sight.

You and Mr. Sinclaire stroll through the gardens together, passing large statues and flower bushes along the way. Your eyes wander over the surrounding greenery…

Carrot: This is stunning!

Mr. Sinclaire: Indeed, it is.

Mr. Sinclaire says nothing more as the two of you continue your walk.

Carrot: I believe it was my grandmother’s intention for us to become better acquainted during our stroll…

Mr. Sinclaire: It seemed as much.

Carrot: Perhaps you can tell me more about yourself?

Mr. Sinclaire: Such as?

Carrot: Like your family! Is there anyone else apart from you?

Mr. Sinclaire: No.

You sigh and glance at Mr. Sinclaire, smirking.

Carrot: You are a man of few words, Mr. Sinclaire.

Mr. Sinclaire: I find idle conversation to be a waste of time. Why remark of such things like the weather and mere gossip? My time is valuable, Miss Milk. The same cannot be said for others.

Carrot: Have you ever stopped to consider ‘idle conversation’ allows you to grow closer to someone? Or are you too afraid of opening up your heart?

You feel Mr. Sinclaire’s arm stiffen beneath your touch. He gives you a sideways glance.

Mr. Sinclaire: I…

He clears his throat, turning his gaze back to the path.

Mr. Sinclaire: We should press forward.

Carrot: As I said before, a man of few words.

Mr. Sinclaire: Hmph, you give your mind rather freely. Is there not an opinion you would deign inappropriate to speak aloud?

Carrot: Sir, why should I curb my tongue and allow others the opportunity to misconstrue my meaning? I’d rather my words to not become so easily twisted. But it would seem you do not share my good opinion.

Mr. Sinclaire suddenly stops and stares at you quizzically.

Carrot: What?

Mr. Sinclaire: I honestly don’t know what to make of you, Miss Milk.

Carrot: Is that a bad thing?

Mr. Sinclaire: I’ve not yet decided. You’re clearly different than the other woman I have encountered at Edgewater.

Carrot: Let me take a gander. I’m ‘different’ because of my… handsome looks.

You notice Mr. Sinclaire look you over. He quickly turns away, blushing.

Mr. Sinclaire: I did not say that…

Carrot: But you thought it. It is written across your face! Come, Mr. Sinclaire, can we not be truthful with each other?

Mr. Sinclaire scowls at you, returning his focus to the path ahead.

Carrot: Why ever did you agree to the dowager’s request in the first place? You don’t seem all that fond of me.

Mr. Sinclaire: Forgive me if it came across that way… but don’t presume to know my mind.

Carrot: So then, enlighten me.

Mr. Sinclaire: I simply thought you were… It does not matter.

Mr. Sinclaire continues to walk, but you stop and look at him squarely in the eyes.

Carrot: But this is your opinion of me! I believe I deserve to be informed!

Mr. Sinclaire: Do you inform every person you encounter of your personal impressions of them?

Carrot: Not every person.

You find yourself closing the distance between you and Mr. Sinclaire, now only a couple steps away.

Mr. Sinclaire: So then indulge me… what do you think of me, Miss Milk?

Carrot: I find you to be rather alluring. There’s something about you that draws me in. I can’t quite figure out what exactly.

Mr. Sinclaire: When you do, we can revisit this topic of conversation.

Carrot: Oh, so there will be a second meeting. I’m glad to see you no longer think I’m ‘wasting your time.’

Mr. Sinclaire scoffs and hastily walks off. He looks back over his shoulder at you.

Mr. Sinclaire: Shall we continue with the tour or not?

Carrot: Of course, sir. Lead the way.

As you and Mr. Sinclaire stroll through the estate gardens, you come across a bench next to the lake. The two of you sit, admiring the lake in front of you.

Carrot: Oh my… I adore this view.

Mr. Sinclaire: As do I. I walked these gardens with my grandmother practically every day growing up… For years, it would take my breath away when I came across this view.

Carrot: And now?

Mr. Sinclaire: It reminds me of happier times.

Carrot: There was a lake near the village I grew up that looked quite a lot like this… but without the large mansion off in the distance. My mother and I would often visit there together before she fell ill.

Mr. Sinclaire: You miss her.

Carrot: Yes, of course, but I appreciate the little reminders of her… I feel like she’s here again.

Mr. Sinclaire: it’s as if no matter how long you’ve parted, those memories never fade completely.

Your eyes meet for a brief moment, then you both turn back towards the water as you clear your throat.

Carrot: Well… it’s clear your grandmother had an excellent eye with landscaping.

Mr. Sinclaire: She always had a way with nature… So when the dowager countess requested help, she couldn’t possibly refuse.

Carrot: I get the sense not many people can refuse her.

Mr. Sinclaire laughs, trying to hide his smile.

Mr. Sinclaire: You may have a point.

Carrot: Mr. Sinclaire… was that a genuine smile?

Mr. Sinclaire’s face falls, returning to his serious expression.

Mr. Sinclaire: No.

Carrot: I know what I saw! You cannot convince me otherwise!

You suddenly realise how close you are to Mr. Sinclaire on the bench. His hand rests on the edge, only inches away. You slowly move your hand nearer, delicately brushing Mr. Sinclaire’s…

Mr. Sinclaire: Miss Milk…

Carrot: Yes, Mr. Sinclaire?

Mr. Sinclaire: We…

Mr. Sinclaire shakes his head and abruptly stands up.

Mr. Sinclaire: We should get back to the house. I’m sure you want to meet your father.

Carrot: Yes, I do have a few matters to attend to.

Mr. Sinclaire offers his arm once more, and the two of you return to the estate and come to a stop outside the front door.

Carrot: I suppose this is where we part ways. Thank you for the tour, Mr. Sinclaire. I hope we will see more of each other. I’ve enjoyed our time together today.

Mr. Sinclaire: It wasn’t as dreadful as I feared.

Carrot: That might be the most favorable thing I have heard you say all afternoon.

Mr. Sinclaire: Until we meet again…

Mr. Sinclaire bows. His eyes flicker up and lock with yours.

Mr. Sinclaire: Good day, Miss Milk.

Carrot: Farewell, Mr. Sinclaire.

He turns on his heels and walks down the drive, while you head into the house behind you. As you enter into the mansion, your eyes sweep across the foyer’s interior. To your left, the open door leads to a large sitting room. Through the doors ahead, you can barely make out various parlors and dining rooms. Your grandmother saunters in from an adjoining parlor, followed by Mr. Woods. A smile spreads across her face upon seeing you.

Dowager Countess: I thought I heard you come in! How were the gardens?

Carrot: They are magnificent to see. You’ve done a great job with them.

Dowager Countess: And how was our dear friend, Mr. Sinclaire?

Carrot: He was a delight to meet.

Dowager Countess: I’m so happy to hear that. Remember, he’s one of the most eligible bachelors in the area.

Just then, a young woman turns the corner from the drawing room and bumps into you!

Noblewoman: Oh!

You reach down to pick up the noblewoman’s dropped fan.

Carrot: I believe this belongs to you.

Noblewoman: I beg a thousand pardons, miss. I really should be more careful where I go.

Carrot: You’re quite all right. No harm done.

Her hand lingers against yours for a moment as she takes the fan from you… then shakes herself out of her daze.

Noblewoman: Oh, heavens! It’s so late! I’m afraid I can’t stay and chat. My parents are awaiting my return.

Dowager Countess: I understand. We will see you tomorrow, then.

Noblewoman: Of course. Good day, Dowager Countess… miss.

Mr. Woods opens the door for the noblewoman. She takes one last peek at you and smiles warmly, before she leaves.

Dowager Countess: Yes, where were we…

Your grandmother motions to the staircase immediately up ahead. It leads up to a balcony overlooking the foyer you’re standing in.

Dowager Countess: Your father’s study is just up those stairs and on your left. He’s waiting for you.

Carrot: You want me to go in there alone?

Dowager Countess: You, my dear, are the daughter of an earl. You can take care of yourself. Don’t ever forget that… Besides, I’m an old woman, and it’s teatime. Woods, please ring Mrs. Finley and inform her.

Mr. Woods: Yes, my lady.

Your grandmother heads into the adjoining sitting room, Mr. Woods trailing after her. You glance at the grand staircase in front of you.

Carrot: Up there and to the left…?

You climb the stairs and head down the hallway, stopping outside the door… You take a deep breath and knock three times.

Man’s Voice: Come in.

Carrot: (That must be my father. I do hope he approves of me…)

You open the door and step inside the earl’s study…

Thoughts on the episode…

Well… it was certainly enjoyable. I had no immediate issues with it. Perhaps the most irritating thing was that everything was spelt using american spelling except for ‘mum’. If you’re going to write speech in British English, do it like that way for all speech or don’t bother doing it? It seems a pointless addition. But not really a complaint, so…

I do have one concern that I don’t see this being a truly captivating story so far. It’s pleasant, but by no means exciting. So far, nothing to keep me hooked. No amount of love interests will do that. And certainly not if I keep having this many diamond options per episode. I spent SEVENTY-TWO diamonds in the first chapter alone. Not acceptable in my opinion.

If part of the storyline is that the dowager countess arranged for us to go to a dressmakers to get something nice, don’t make only one new option free and everything else a diamond option.

Our relationship with Mr. Sinclaire is interesting so far. We seem completely unfazed by how cold he is. Personally I’d be quite intimidated meeting someone like that for the first time, especially if I had gone from an orphaned village girl mere hours earlier to the bastard child of an earl destined to be harshly judged for the rest of my life. So far I am completely convinced our MC is a robot. Eros’ first attempt, no doubt.

Our other Love Interests are the stable boy with no name and the noblewoman from the end of the chapter, also with no name. I hope they get a proper chance to shine because so far it just seems like Mr. Sinclaire is going to be shoved down our throats. Not that I’m complaining because I’m a basic bitch and I’m gonna go for his money but still, it’d be nice to have the opportunity to get to know the other love interests just as much.

I’m also hoping to see the relationship between Mr. Woods and Briar Daly. To be honest, I think I prefer Mr. Woods to the stable boy, but we can’t have it all. So a blossoming romance between him and Briar will have to do. I want lots of cute, sweet moments from the both of them!

Lady Grandmother or whatever we called her seems very nice. Very understanding of the situation… something I was not expecting. But then I suppose PB have provided us with Countess Henrietta as the Evil Bitch from Hell.

Fave Character of the Chapter: Grandmother/Dowagess

Least Fave Character of the Chapter: Briar Daly

[incorrectunrulyprincesses]

Underland’s Unruly Princesses: March of the Witch Hunters (aka the crossover) chapter 4

Rosalind II

It was no secret that Ember hated my father, Ilosovic Stayne the Knave of Hearts. She said he was an ignorant one eyed gorilla who cheated on mother several times with various ladies of the court when she carried me inside her and that's why he lost his eye. I knew better than to ask either of my parents if there was any truth to this. When I was nine, she also claimed that he attempted to spoon her in her bedchamber. I don't know if this is officially true or not, but after that claim, mother made both of us sleep in her bed for about a year, and I didn't see my father at all during that time because he was put on ice in the dungeon.

But once I realized I wasn't going to get anywhere with Auntie Mary and Auntie Sarah, apart from my birthday gifts that is, I knew I had to ask him for help. I got all the attention I wanted from Mother, Ember, my aunties, and mother's old friend and our cook, Mrs. Nellie Lovett, but my father was distant. He was probably busy carrying out Mother's orders. Still, the only time he spent with me was with everyone else, or when he tried to teach me how to spar which mother quickly stopped him from.

"Princesses don't fight with steel." Mummy insisted when she caught me fencing with my father on her croquet lawn and promptly dragged me off by one arm. In hindsight, I think Daddy wanted me to be a boy.

The Resistance made a big deal out of the fact that Mother executed her husband, took several lovers over the course of her reign, and had no "legitimate" children. Ember and I were often referred to as "Royal Bastards." Mummy countered this slander by saying that Ember's father was the resistance leader, Tarrant Hightopp, the Hatter, and that the only reason she killed her husband was that he tried to kill Ember when she was a toddler and pushed him off her balcony. Not only that, but she was also pregnant with me at the time and couldn't keep him around long enough for him to find out that she had another child who wasn't his. Besides, he was a cheating asshole just like my father. Worse than my father in fact because he'd been screwing her own sister!

I wish I looked more like my mother. She and Ember had the same red hair, only Ember's hair was more ginger than red. I had only my mother's porcelain skin, dainty features, long eyelashes, and aching feet, and my father's bright sky blue eyes, but unlike either of them, I was born with an abundance of long, thick, wavy honey-colored tresses falling almost to my knees which was strange at first, but then it was revealed that my maternal grandmother, Queen Elsemere was a blonde, so I guess it wasn't that odd. Like my sister, I had a curvaceous, voluptuous body and had always been rather busty for my age.

As we walked to Daddy's chamber, I thought about my interaction with Auntie Sarah and Auntie Mary. They were quick to praise my singing of Nellie's songs and rewarded me with my birthday presents. Auntie Mary gave me a beautiful cake, six layers high decorated with red buttercream roses with golden leaves. Two layers were chocolate fudge cake filled with cheesecake, two were chocolate chip cookie dough cake filled with cheesecake, and two were red velvet cake filled with cheesecake. The whole thing was frosted in fudge and cream cheese frosting. She told me I was getting too skinny and insisted I eat the whole thing myself before I started singing. Auntie Sarah gave me some a beautiful choker, black velvet ribbon with a golden rose briar pattern embroidered into it, three new gowns, and a red bow made from the same fabric of my mother's favorite gown with a miniature version of mother's scepter as the clasp. I thanked them and asked them where Auntie Winnie was.

"In your mother's study," was Auntie Sarah's reply,

"In the garden," said Auntie Mary at the same time. Then they looked at each other oddly.

"In your mother's study," said Auntie Mary.

"In the garden," said Auntie Sarah.

I knew now that she was neither in the garden or Mummy's study and grew suspicious. Ember's story confirmed these suspicions and I knew we had to send my father out to find the Witch Hunters in our world and arrest them immediately. We would put a bounty on their heads and snuff them out. If not, I could use my baby Jabberwockies that mother gave me when I turned fourteen, Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, on them. They were my babies. Drogon was now large enough to ride, but the others could set things on fire and probably burn people alive.

I rapped sharply on door to my father's room with Ember close behind.

"Exactly why are you dragging me to visit your father?" Ember asked me.

"Because he listens to you and not me." I said blankly, stating the obvious and trying to school the twinge of envy from my voice.

"You're his daughter, though," Ember torted. "Not me. Besides, he abandoned you."

"I think you scare him." I smirked. "Why does Mummy even keep him around anyway?"

Ember chuckled lowly. "I haven't a clue, sis. Sometimes I swear Mum forgets why she does things."

"Well either way you get through to him better than I do that's why you're coming with me." I banged on the door again. "DADDY! GET YOUR STUPID FUCKING DEADBEAT ARSE OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!" I yelled.

"Or I'll tell Mummy you sometimes like to wank to pictures of Aunt Mirana!" Ember chimed in an annoying tone. I giggled like a little girl.

Ember laughed as my Father whipped the door open. She had Aunt Winnie's book in the crook of her arm. She had not stopped carrying it around since Mum gave it to her.

"The fuck do you brats want?" he demanded. I stared him down.

"Well, well, well, Stayne, I'd expected you to be thrilled by our appearance," Ember cooed in a sarcastic tone. "I guess I was totally wrong with that assumption." Without even asking, Ember just shoved her way into his room. Giggling, I followed her.

My father's single good eyes followed Ember as she went to the middle of the room and sat in a chair by the hearth. "It's an emergency." I insisted.

Oddly enough, my father sighed, then he crossed the room and sat across from Ember and I. "Considering that I have nothing better to attend to, I guess I will listen to your little pitiful sob story."

"It's the witch hunters. We have reason to believe there are some in our world that will stage an uprising and kill us all. We need you to find them."

My father's face twisted into a disgusted expression. "Witch hunters, you say?" He drew a small knife from his belt and began to wave it around. "What's in it for me?" he demanded of us.

Ember's cheeks began to flush red, and I could tell that Mum's temper was about to take over. "What's in it for you? You ignorant buffoon! If these Witch Hunters are even allowed to execute a single witch, they will begin to destroy the rest of us! Can't you see that we are peculiar compared to those from Above? We are nothing but alien to them. If they infiltrate the different worlds, we are all doomed. Underland and Above will be wiped clean. That includes everyone and everything!"

Ember had the ability to talk very, very fast when she was pissed off, much like Mum. I had always thought that she could easily out-talk anyone when she was about to rage. "If you don't do this for me, your own flesh and blood, do this for yourself!" I snapped.

Ember sprang from her chair. "DO IT FOR YOUR QUEEN!" She hissed stridently. It frightened me a little how angry she was getting. "Do it for the sake of having a woman to stick your dinky little prick into!" I clapped a gloved hand over my mouth in an attempt to stop the laughter that threatened to burst out.

I don't know whether it was the idea of not being able to lay again, or Ember's temper, but my father's jaw dropped. "Yes, your highness. Right away." He stumbled to his feet. He came over to me, dropped a peck on my cheek, dropped a heavy coin purse into my lap.

In one swift motion, he swiped his sword from the rack on the wall, and he began to jog from the room.

I wiped it off, quickly, but shoved the money into my cleavage. I wasn't used to his fake affection, but the money was nice and very much appreciated. Ever since his latest betrayal, Mum demanded he pay child support for my upkeep. About two million pounds sterling a month to be exact.

Ember sniggered next to me. She wrapped her fingers around Aunt Winnie's book and she giggled. "Well, Sis, looks like we got that taken care of."

"We make an excellent team. Remind me never to piss you off like that. Ever."I joked.

"Not to worry, Ros, dear. You shall never know the extent of my true temper." Holding the book to her chest, she rose from her chair. "Now, then, I suggest we go and find Mum."

"She'll be happy to know your favorite person paid his child support on time. How long do you think he'll last out there?" I wondered, walking out with my sister.

She shrugged. "Who knows? Hopefully long enough for us to find Aunt Winifred before the Witch Hunters take her down."

"While we're on the subject, there's something you should know." I confessed. "I've been having these weird nightmares about a black cat loitering around a condemned building in the Above. Do you think it has anything to do with Auntie Winnie?"

Ember stopped dead in her tracks. "That's funny, Ros. I, too, have seen the apparition of a feline, black as coal. I didn't think anything of it at all. You know what this means?" I shook my head.

"We must question Mum," she said flatly. "Even if you leave the talking to me. I think she knows more that she lets onto."

"I'll go with you...for moral support. But I don't want Mum to be mad at me." I said.

"It's decided then. I will do the talking." And with that, she trudged down the corridor. I followed.

[sardonicnihilism]

A Biography of the Woman Who Never Was

Part 3 The Young Adult

Chapter 30

Shannon and Sam sat on the hood of her car, looking out over the view. They were parked in a clearing overlooking the ridge of the mountains. It was approaching evening, and from where they sat, they could see the transition lines in the sky. Blue closet to the ground, golden bands of clouds sectioning off the layers of red, orange, and pink, hazy purple above that, and the blackened night sky crowning all of that. It was like looking at time itself. Bellow the sky lines, was a sea of green tree tops, stretching into the far horizon.

"Mate! This is gorgeous!" Sam said in awe.

"Don't you have views like this in Australia?" Shannon asked, somewhat amused and proud at the same time.

"Not where I'm from. We got the beach. But after awhile, all the sunsets look the same. This is something else."

"Well, I've never seen a beach sunset before, so it'd be new to me, but, yeah, this is pretty amazing." Shannon was pleased that this place was having the effect on him that she had been hoping for.

"How'd you ever find this place?"

"My one aunt lives over the ridge here. I saw it when I was driving past to visit one day. I come up here to think sometimes; clear my head. There's horse trails over there I sometimes walk in the daytime."

"Well thank you for sharing this with me. I'm unbelievably grateful and humbled."

They both continued to look out over the ridge and watch as the night sky slowly melted down over the other layers, taking them over.

Sam began to have a gnawing sensation in his conscience. He bowed his head and spoke softly. "You know, Dan warned me about you. He said you were a spooky girl. That you were dangerous."

Shannon just shrugged, never turning her gaze away from the horizon. "I'm not surprised. It's a reputation I got honestly. I'm not even sure I regret it. It has its advantages and disadvantages; like most things in life I suppose."

By now, Shannon was almost hypnotized by the night sky. It's infinite blackness called to her and her mental barriers started breaking down.

"I love horror. Horror novels, movies, short stories, I even read the reprints of the old EC horror comics. My favorite type of horror is cosmic horror.

"Cosmic horror is about how humans are an insignificant speck in an indifferent and even malevolent universe, controlled by things we couldn't possibly understand and would go insane if we tried."

Sam turned his head to Shannon. "Is that what you believe?" He asked worryingly.

Shannon shrugged again. "I'm a Christian. I believe that the universe was created by a just and loving god, who'll one day come down, make everything perfect, raise the dead, and we'll all live forever with perfect, beautiful bodies. At least I think so. That's what I tell myself. That's what I want to believe.

"Except, that's not what I see. How could a just and loving god sit back and watch His children die? Either by there or natural causes? Why would He create a reality with diseases, earthquakes, floods, and other natural disasters? How could He sit back and watch war, murder, rape?

"I was born the illegitimate offspring of an alcoholic mother from a one night stand. She was physically and emotionally abusive. One night, when I was about five, her boyfriend at the time, came into my room and molested me. Thanks to him, I knew what cum tasted like. I eventually went to live with my biological aunt who I call mom because she actually did the fucking job of raising me, but my sister remained with my birth mother.

"I was severely, morbidly obese for most of my life. I was picked on, hit, ostracized from all others. The only friend I had, used me and almost let me drown. Meanwhile, I lived with my grandmother who was quite literally insane. She pissed and shit in a bucket beside her bed. Sometimes I would wake up during the night and see her just looking in at me like some ghost.

"One time I tried to kill myself by slitting my wrists. When I got out of the hospital, my one uncle asked what I did. I told him. He asked how. I showed him the scars going across my wrists. He said, 'oh no, that's not how you do it. You got to cut down your forearm, not across '. I told him I'd try to remember that for next and he responded that he was just trying to help.

"I eventually got mixed up with a bunch of self proclaimed witches. They told me I was a natural witch. I started learning witchcraft underneath them. Then, one night, I did a vision quest ritual with them. They gave this sour, red liquid, and I had a vision where I was proclaimed the new Lilith and Shub Ni' gureth. Millions of horrible creatures tore out of my body, each becoming a new universe, because all universes are born of pain. Then what was left of me was devoured by Azathoth. When I woke up, I was terrified. I told them I didn't want to go any further, so they kicked me out.

"I tried to rededicate myself to my faith, but I started hearing voices and seeing things; shadows and specters, just outside my view. I started hearing other noises and things seemed to move on their own. I never feel alone. No matter where I am, it always feels like millions of eyes are looking at me, watching me, waiting to pounce.

"It got so bad, I started believing I was an angelic warrior and this was God testing me. I started carrying a dagger around with me everywhere. One night, I attacked my mother and almost killed a homeless man. I think. I can't be sure if he was real or not. All that right before I started school.

"When I started, everyone I met, I talked about witchcraft and demons too. I scared a lot of people. Traumatized a couple. So, yeah, I am a creepy girl. I'm still trying to find out about the book the coven used, 'The Book of Forgotten Nightmares'. So far, I can't find anything on it. I figure that's either because it doesn't exist or it's so obscure, no one knows about.

"And God sat back and saw all of that and did nothing to intervene. How could He do that? Why would he do that? Maybe because if He does exist, He's not benevolent. Maybe He's a sadist. Or maybe he doesn't exist at all. Maybe we all are just a dream in the mind of Azathoth and the most merciful thing he could do is wake up."

Shannon suddenly realized everything she had said and bowed her head in embarrassment. "Sorry. I guess I scared you off now."

To her surprise, Sam softly said, "No."

Shannon looked at him in shock and noticed that he, now, was too, looking off into the night horizon.

"Me dad was a drunk. He started out ok, owned his own business, only the occasional drink with the lads on the weekends. Then the business started to fail, he started drinking more, becoming violent. More so to mum than me sister and I, but we still got our share.

"Our next door neighbor, he had always been nice to me. I thought of him like a friend, like an uncle, hell, like a bloody father. One day, he says he has a bike for me in his house. I walk in, he shuts the door behind me, next thing I know, he's on me and then in me. Eventually he gets me to start bringing my sister over and he makes us 'perform' while he videos us for him and his pedo friends.

"One night, Dad gets extra wasted. Starts beating on all of us. Mum says she's had enough and tells him she's leaving with the kids. He goes, gets his shotgun, lines us up against the wall and says he's gonna kill us and himself. Mum says he might be evil enough to kill us but he's too chicken shit to pop himself and he's not man enough to survive prison. So he throws us out.

"We go to Mum's mum and dad's but they say that we're an embarrassment and she made her bed and now she had to lie in it. Luckily there was a women's shelter nearby and they took us in. We lived there for about a month before Mum found a job and a place to live. Never saw Dad again after that. I heard he got remarried and has a new family now. Good on him if he did, but I can't give a rat's ass about him.

"I had dreamed of being a professional dancer. Trained nearly all me life for it. Then, one day, I realized that if I ever did get famous, the tabloids would go digging and knowing that there's pictures and videos of me, out there, somewhere, being forced to rape my sister, I couldn't take the chance, and gave up on that dream."

Shannon just stared at Sam in horror. "So you know," she said slowly and methodically, watching her words carefully, "the world is a cruel and indifferent place, set up to destroy us and drive us insane. It truly is best to never have existed at all."

Sam suddenly spun around and looked at her in shock. "No! To the contrary. Life isn't fair but it's not unfair either. Life is just a series of physical and chemical reactions. Fairness is a human construct we try to impose on nature. But that's the thing, it's up to us to say what is fair, to hash it out, to make life fair for us.

"I don't regret being born. I'm glad I'm alive. Sure me life ain't be easy, but it hasn't been all bad. There's been a lot of good too. Even in the darkest night, there's still light. Life is a tapestry. Like all tapestries, there's light colors and dark, but all together, they form a beautiful picture. We just have to learn to appreciate it."

Shannon shook her head and smiled. "I don't know if I should hug you or punch you for being so wonderfully naive."

"Well, if I have choice, I know which one I'd pick, especially given those arms of yours."

Shannon laughed and said, You dork!", and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Not that's its my business, but what made you go this route?"

"What, the muscles? Well, like I said, I was morbidly obese as a kid. Larger muscles burn more calories. Also, it makes men think twice before trying anything. I mean, you could be 300 pounds of pure muscle, a black belt in every martial art, and a champion boxer, but if you're out cold because someone spiked your drink, it doesn't matter, but, still, they see how big I am, it causes them to think twice. The best way for prey to avoid a predator is to become one herself."

"Fair enough," Sam said and they both turned to look at the night sky.

For the first time in a long time, Shannon didn't just see the infinite darkness but the billions of stars within. Each one giving out unfathomable heat and light. Even with all that, they couldn't dispell the darkness but, each, in their own way causing it to retreat just a little bit and in the process, shine that much brighter.

It was then she thought about how far away those stars were - hundreds, thousands, millions of light years away. Surely some of those had burned out long ago; dead, yet their light still shone, going on forever. She started to fell like she was on the verge of a profound epiphany when she suddenly farted. A loud, long, rumbling fart.

Both Shannon and Sam started busting out laughing. Maybe in the end, the only true and appropriate response to the eternal infinite is just to let one rip and laugh your ass of about it. It's not like the universe is going to mind.

[somekind0fmagic]

Chapter 6. Happy New Year

I do not own Harry Potter or the characters created by Rowling

So, I know in the first chapter I said that Anneliese has black hair, I actually meant to change that before I posted it, but I can be really forgetful. She actually had her hair dyed a reddish brown and by the beginning of Christmas break her hair was down to her shoulders and flipped out, kinda like Tracy’s hair from Hairspray (the 2007 version), and the hair dye had faded out into her natural light brown hair.

Plus, I wanted there to be a little bit of stuff from others POV, I was mostly doing a 3rd person with Albus, but I’m throwing some other people in there. It will be important for later dates

( Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14 )

Chapter 6. Happy New Year

Albus sat on the couch in the living room. It was the 31st and he was waiting for Scorpius and Anneliese to arrive. He sighed as he flipped through the pages of the comic his aunt had gotten him. She tried to talk to him about Rose when she gave it to him, but he got out of the talk by claiming he was needed somewhere else. 

He heard the roar of the fireplace and he looked up, he saw the dirty blonde hair of his friend appear. Albus sat the book down and stood up, “Hey Scorp!”

Scorpius smiled and stepped out of the fire, “Hey Al, how’re you doing?”

“Good, you?”

“Same, so are we just waiting for A?”

“No, no you are not.”

“Oh my god.” Albus gaped at Anneliese. “Your hair!”

Her hand instinctively raised up to her hair. “Oh, yeah, asked my aunt to cut and dye it. You don’t like it do you?” The smile on her face fell slowly.

“No, I like it, it’s cute. It’s...you!” She smiled again, “Honestly, not many people can rock half shaved hair, but you look good with it.”

Scorpius nodded, “He’s right, it suits you.”

“Good because I like it.” She looked around, “What room are we in?”

“Our living room, c’mon, let me show you my room.” They followed Albus out of the room and up the stairs. He stopped when he reached the door. “So, my sister, Lily, will be home in, maybe an hour or two. That’s her room, she said that you can stay in there if you feel more comfortable, mum also said you guys can stay in the extra rooms as well.” He opened the door and let them in, “It’s not much, but it’s comfortable.”

“I like it, but it’s just so….” Scorpius started, but he couldn’t seem to find the right word.

“Gryffindor.” Anneliese stated easily, “So not you.”

Albus shrugged, “It’s been like this my whole life, I never really noticed or cared. Maybe I'll ask mum and dad if I can repaint it over the summer”

“It's up to you, and I'm not surprised that you never noticed, you never notice anything.” She walked over to his desk and picked up the radio, “I have one of these.” She turned back to Albus, “My mum always has been interested in Muggle things, anything that can play music she has fallen in love with. I have one in my room.”

Albus nodded, “There’s more muggle technology downstairs if you’d like to see.” They walked out of his room and back down the stairs. \

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“I don’t understand muggle sports.”

“I don’t understand sports in general so I beat you. Well, that is unless you count dancing, gymnastics, ice skating, or ice skating a sport, then I understand it.”

Albus shook his head at his two friends, “Of course that’s all you understand L.”

She shrugged, “They’re less dangerous and make more sense then Quidditch, Futball, Soccer, Tennis, and other sports.”

Everyone jumped when they heard the front door slam. “Lily?! Is it you?!”

Soon later Lily came into the room, her face was red from running in the cold, tear marks stained her face. She ran over to Albus and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her. “I hate her.”

“Who Lils?”

“Maria.”

“What happened?”

She sniffed, “She made fun of the fact that you and James go to Hogwarts, but since she believes it’s just a fancy private school, she said that it’s probably a centre for troubled youth and called you strange and then called me weird!”

“Oh Lily,” He murmured.

“Then she told me I look horrible and then said things about daddy’s scar and I wanted to tell her why he had it but she wouldn’t stop talking and making fun of me!”

“Lily, I’m so sorry that she did that to you...well, if it’ll make you feel any better, you can hang out with me and my friends. I’m sure they’ll be okay with it,” He looked over at his two friends, “Won’t you?”

Scorpius just nodded and Anneliese spoke, “Of course! Now I won’t feel alone as being a female!” Making everyone laugh, she walked over to Lily, “Us girls gotta stick together,” She held her hand out to Lily, “I’m Anneliese.”

Lily smiled, “I’m Lily!”

“What a pretty name.”

“I was named after my grandmother! Hey, do you know the muggle movie Barbie: Princess and the Pauper?”

“Of course! I babysit some of the little kids in the town near where I live and I’ve seen it about a dozen times! Wanna hear something cool?” Lily nodded, “My middle name is Erika. The movie came out the year before I was born and my mom has joked about saying that was why she named me that when in actuality she named me after her grandmother, my great-grandmother, and her brother, my uncle, his name was Erik.”

“Wow! That’s so cool!”

She nodded softly, Scorpius walked over to Lily, “I’m Scorpius.”

Lily shyly smiled, the blush that came to her face was only noticed by Anneliese. “Hi.”

Anneliese smirked and held back a small laugh. Little Lily had a crush and it was painfully obvious to the elder girl.

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Everyone was getting their pajamas on before they were walking downstairs to watch the countdown for the next year. Albus and Scorpius were sharing Albus’s room while Lily and Anneliese were sharing Lily’s room (mostly because Lily begged for Anneliese to be with her). Anneliese was slipping a shirt on while Lily was reading a magazine. “Anneliese?” The other girl looked at her, “How...how is Albus doing?”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know, I just overheard my family talking on Christmas Eve night. Uncle Ron was saying things about Al being in Slytherin. I don’t get why he hates them so much, what did they do wrong?”

The black haired girl sat across from the small redhead. “How much do you know about the Wizarding Wars?”

“I know that many died and that it was a terrible event, why is that important?”

“Just wait, do you know what Voldemort’s followers were called?”

She nodded and Anneliese motioned for her to say, “Death Eaters.”

“Good, well, the majority of them were from Slytherin house. It’s a stereotype that all Slytherins are evil. I bet he’s upset because Al befriended a Malfoy, the Malfoy’s were big Voldemort supporters. Lucius Malfoy went to jail because of it. Draco Malfoy was tasked to kill Dumbledore, but he didn’t. But, Narcissa Malfoy, she saved your dads’ life. She lied to Voldemort and said he was dead, just because he told her that her son, Draco, was alive and okay.”

“But just because they were like that then doesn’t mean they still are.”

“I know, but some people can’t see past that.”

She sighed, “I’m happy that Al met you two, he seems happier than he was before he left.” 

Anneliese smiled softly, “I know, even on the train, he seemed miserable.” Then she sighed, “Has he always had a bad relationship with James?”

She nodded, “Yeah, they always fought. Never did it physical like it does now though. When mum and dad were talking about it when they started to happen-”

“Wait, physically? I just knew of their verbal fights, never did I know they got physical.”

Lily nodded, “Yeah, a few weeks ago James broke Albus’s nose even, apparently, according to James, that was because Albus ‘attacked’ Rose. I know she attacked him first, he was only defending himself.”

Anneliese let out a breath, “Huh, I never knew, Al just said that he ran into a wall in the dungeons, which isn’t surprising because well, it’s Al.”

Lily laughed, “Omg, we have a treehouse in the backyard and when we were little he fell out of it while trying to climb out and broke his arm. He also broke his leg from falling down the stairs.”

Anneliese began to laugh, “Why can I see that happening?”

Lily just shrugged her shoulders and died her laughing down. “What time is it?”

Looking at her watch she immediately bolted up, “11:58!”

Lily’s eyes widened and they both ran out of her room. They ran down the stairs, almost tripping on the way down. Making it into the room just as the 30 second countdown started. “You guys almost missed it.”

They rolled their eyes and Anneliese swatted at Albus’ arm. The 10 second countdown started and they all counted down. 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1, Harry and Ginny shared a kissed, along with Victoire and Teddy, who decided to come over a few hours back. “A year closer to going to Hogwarts.” Anneliese heard Lily say softly while she heard Albus and Scorpius mutter, “A year closer to graduating.” She just rolled her eyes and the boys and gave Lily a side hug.

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It was the next morning. Albus was laying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Reflecting on his last year. Getting accepted into Hogwarts, meeting the two best people, being put in Slytherin, his family hating him just because of his house. Sure, not all of it was fun, but the majority of it was.

There was a knock at his door and then it opened, “Albus? Are you and Scorpius up?” He sat up when Ginny asked the question, “Okay, well, if Scorpius isn’t up, then maybe wake him up in about 30 minutes. I’m making breakfast. Lily and Anneliese are downstairs playing Wizards Chess and James left about an hour ago.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s 10 am sweetheart.” Albus nodded and she left the room. He crawled over his bed and shook Scorpius’ shoulder.

“Dude, wake up, moms making breakfast.”

Scorpius shot up, “Food?”

Albus laughed at his friend. His dirty blonde hair was sticking out everywhere. “Yes, food. It’s 10 am. Apparently James left and the girls are downstairs.”

Scorpius scratched the back of his head, “We probably should get down there then, should we?”

Albus shrugged, “It’s up to you man.”

He got up and off the blow-up mattress, “Then let’s go.”

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It had been two hours since his friends left. He and Lily were playing a muggle game called Go Fish. That was until James’ voice appeared, “Are you done investing the house with snakes?”

Albus rolled his eyes, “Are you done being a dumbass?”

“Y’know, mum and dad are fighting with our family because of you. Did you know that? I overheard mum and Aunt Hermione complaining about dad and Uncle Ron fighting over your house.”

“Well at least I don’t pick fights with people who don’t do anything. 3s?”

“Go fish. 7s?”

“Are you just going to ignore me?”

“Actually, I’m being factual, something you don’t understand. Here.”

Before James could continue Ginny walked in, “Is everything alright?” She looked at Lily, “Lily?”

“Oh, James was just saying some stuff to Albus, but yeah, everything's fine.” Ginny nodded and left the room. “Y’know James, would it hurt you to be nice for once in your life?”

“Would it hurt you to take my side for once?”

“I take the side of those who are right and don’t deserve to get shit said to them.” Instead of continuing to argue, he stormed out of the room. “Baby.” Lily looked up at Albus, “You okay?”

He nodded, scared to use his words. Scared that if he did, he would cry.