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hopelesshawks · 2 years

Note

I'm a big fan of your work and your Hawks too, the way you write him is adorable. Since your requests are open, what about an extra jealous Hawks x hero reader where they like each other (but they're oblivious) and during a mission another hero (call it fatgum or jeanist or whoever) keeps hitting on her and at the end that hero helps her or rescue her after she gave her best, Hawks was busy doing his job but not busy enough to see everything.

I hope you like my idea! I'm a sucker for hero reader and Hawks. I just think working with him must be cool!

Oh my gosh you’re so sweet thank you anon 🥺❤️ I’m also a sucker for hero reader and Hawks. I love the idea of him being able to work alongside his s/o because work is such a huge part of his life so being able to integrate those two parts of himself would be so major. Anyway! I hope you enjoy this request <3 sorry it took me five years to write 💀 it basically turned into a wholeass fic

Hawks watches you laugh at something Fatgum has said for the third time since you two walked into the gala from inside an HPSC-issued surveillance van and he hates it. He knows you’re just playing the role of Fatgum’s date for this stupid sting operation but that doesn’t mean seeing you hanging off someone else’s arm is any easier. And why did Fatgum have to flirt so much? The other man had been a little too eager to volunteer to be your pretend date and frankly Hawks is still annoyed with the HPSC for mandating he not be the one to go in with you. He’s too known for his stealth capabilities now, they’d said, sending him in would tip the wealthy and suspect hosts of the gala off that the heroes may be on to the shadier side of their business dealings. If you ask Hawks he’s not sure why he’s being punished for being too good at his job when the HPSC are the ones who bragged about it to the public. Still, Hawks is nothing if not professional so he’s kept his mouth shut and his emotions schooled as he monitors the cameras and audio feeds from the event.

He lives up to his namesake as his eyes scour the screens for signs of trouble so he notices immediately when there’s a sudden flurry of activity in the camera by the luxe mansion’s vault. He honed in on it, noting how harried the employees seem as they rush to move something large and heavy from the vault. His eyes narrow as the tarp covering the object slips just long enough for him to spot the metal carrying crate it’s hiding. It’s not hard for him to figure out they must be moving the arms they planned to sell, a quick check of the loading dock cams revealing a truck rapidly being backed into the space. It’s odd. The arms deal isn’t supposed to happen for another week, so why are they in such a rush to get everything out of the house?

His eyes widen as he realizes the true intentions of your and Fatgum’s attendance must have been discovered. Immediately he’s on the comms unit, the static crackling as it takes a second to calibrate itself. Finally Fatgum answers.

“What is it Hawks what’s wrong?”

“You’ve been made, get out.”

Gunfire rings out through the courtyard the gala is being held in and shortly afterwards Hawks’ camera there goes out. He curses, trying to get a hold of Fatgum and you on the comms with no luck. He’s about to go flying in after you when his eyes instinctively go back to the monitor showing the metal cases being hauled out of the vault. Millions of dollars worth of black market weapons and quirk enhancing drugs, all being stacked in the hallway. If it gets to the waiting truck out back it’ll be in the wind. By the time they track down the deal and location again the items will already be back on the market or in the wrong hands. All of the hard work put into this operation will be for nothing.

His heart is terrified for you, wants him to drop everything and soar towards your location to take you away and save you. But he had a job to do and none of you can afford for that truck to get away. So when Hawks makes his way out of the security van, he flies the opposite direction from the gala itself and towards the loading dock instead. He’ll just have to trust that you and Fatgum have things handled on your end.

It’s a good thing Hawks made the call he did. He arrives just in time to stop the truck, round up all of the villains at the dock, and confiscate the contraband. Again he ignores the way his heart yearns to check in on you to make positively certain that the police officers who have arrived have everything covered. Only once they’ve assured him they can take over does he start to walk back towards the courtyard where you’re, hopefully, waiting for him.

The sight waiting for him when he arrives both fills him with relief and makes his heart drop. You and Fatgum both look roughed up but the older pro is entirely focused on you, checking you over for injuries as you rest a hand on his arm and assure him you’re fine. With his wings he can pick up on your conversation long before you notice his approach.

“Relax Taishiro, I’m ok. Thanks to you I might add. Thank god you were there,” you sigh, giving the man in question a reassuring smile.

“Alright but don’t scare me like that again ya hear?” He replies, finally stopping his check over although he doesn’t move out of your space.

“Hear you loud and clear,” you laugh.

It hurts but he swallows it down, turning and heading towards the security van instead of you. You were just fine with Taishiro there, so why should he interrupt the moment just because he harbored unrequited feelings? All that matters to him is that you’re happy and that’s exactly how you looked just now. He wouldn’t ruin that for you. Even if it left him feeling aching and lonely.

“Hawks!”

Keigo startles at the sound of your voice, turning in the direction of its source only to see you rushing towards him, leaving Fatgum behind. He barely has time to register your approach before you’re crashing into him at full speed, almost bowling him over as you wrap him in a tight hug.

“Don’t scare me like that again!” you demand, easing your grip just enough so you can look him in the eye as you say it.

“What? What do you mean, Kid?” Hawks asks, genuinely bewildered.

“Don’t ‘Kid’ me, do you realize how worried I was about you when the comms went out?”

“No? I was fine.”

“But what if you weren’t?”

He’s surprised at the genuine level of emotion in your voice. There was infinitely more evidence that you were the one in trouble so why did you seem just as frantic to check in on him as he’d been to check on you just moments ago?

“I’m fine, ok? You didn’t have to worry about me, you were the one in real danger. I’m glad you got out safe,” he assures you, although his soothing tone is carefully masking his bemusement.

You nod, squeezing him a little tighter for a moment before finally releasing him and stepping away, as if suddenly aware of just how long you’d been hugging him. He selfishly didn’t want it to end but that wouldn’t be fair to you or Fatgum so he doesn’t reel you back in the way he wants to. You seem to come to a realization then, eyes narrowing at Hawks as your worry clears and anger takes its place.

“Hold up, were you about to just leave without saying anything?” you ask incredulously.

Hawks gives you a sheepish goofy smile as he shrugs.

“You and Fatgum were having a moment, I didn’t wanna interrupt!”

His tone is light but the words burn as he says them. The way your brows furrow, head tilting like a confused puppy, doesn’t help matters. God Fatgum is a lucky man.

“What are you talking about bird brain?”

“You don’t have to play dumb, I heard you and Taishiro earlier. I’m happy for you.”

He means it. It hurts but he means it.

“I’m- hold on. Is this because I called him by his first name?” you ask incredulously.

“Yes?”

“I call everyone by their first name,” you huff with a roll of your eyes.

“You don’t call me by mine.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them and he almost immediately wishes he could take them back. They’re too sad, too obvious that he wishes it was him in Fatgum’s place.

“You never told me yours,” you explain softly, starting to realize that you’re missing what feels like a vital piece of this conversation.

“Everyone knows my first name Kid, it was national news,” he chuckles but it tastes bitter. He may not have been conscious when Dabi made the announcement but he still remembers every moment, every curious or judgmental stare, that came afterwards.

“Yea but you didn’t consent to that and you never told me your name,” you insist.

“Oh.”

He doesn’t know what to do with this information. His mind spins as he tries to align all the puzzle pieces he’s suddenly had dropped in his lap in just these past few minutes.

“It’s, uh, it’s Keigo.”

“Welcome to first name privileges Keigo. I didn’t realize they meant that much to you.”

“Yea well, wanted to be part of you and Taishiro’s club. It looked like a lot of fun.”

He means it as a joke but you completely ignore his teasing tone, eyes narrowing as if you’re analyzing Keigo extra hard.

“Keigo?”

His name sounds so perfect coming from your lips.

“Yea?”

“Are you… Jealous?”

Internally he freaks out, heart racing in his chest when he realizes he’s been caught out. Externally he doesn’t flinch.

“Nah, you know me. I’m not the jealous type!”

“Oh well that’s too bad.”

His heart literally stops in his chest, mask cracking for a moment as he looks at you stunned.

“What do you mean, Kid?” he asks hesitantly, voice embarrassingly airy as he speaks.

“Well if you were jealous,” you pause, shoring up all the confidence you can muster to finish your sentence.

“Well if you were jealous it might just mean you like me back, y’know?” you admit with a nervous chuckle.

Keigo closes the distance between you two in just a couple short strides, hands coming up to caress your cheeks as he searches your eyes for any hint of a lie or a joke.

“I was so fucking jealous you wouldn’t believe,” he admits breathlessly and suddenly your lips are crashing together in a kiss you’ve both dreamt of for too long.

From a distance Taishiro watches you both, sees the moment you start to put the pieces together about Keigo’s true feelings. When you and Keigo kiss Taishiro smiles, glad he was right that the two of you just needed a little push.

A/N: AHHHHHH I don’t usually put author’s notes at the bottom of requests but this one ended up so long it seemed fitting. I loved writing this, can’t believe I finally got it out. Thank you so much for being patient

General Taglist: @ahtsuwu @oikawaandkuroostan @larkspyrr @002opdestiny @black-rose-29 @touyasdollmain @izukiss @moonstormmyuna @fleeinghawks

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#hhrequests #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x y/n #hawks fluff #keigo takami fluff

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suesylvesterf · 3 years

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What was going to an all girls school like, if you don't mind me asking? :)

OK anon im so sorry this is so long and so convuluted I actually got so carried away jdbKJBGKSDBGH. i'm not even sure i properly answered your question i just got overwhelmed with Love for my same-sex schooling DHGKJSDFBHG anyway, if there's anything more you want to know lmk and I will try to be concise next time 💀

Essentially, my own experience at a single-sex secondary school was fantastic—however, I know my experience isn’t universal, especially since my school was a little bit different to most, I think.

That being said, I still think that sending your daughters to female-only secondary schools is something every parent should strive to do if they can. No other learning environment will ever be as good for girls as a same-sex school.

In terms of school staff, mine was about 95% female, and 5% male. The few male teachers we had were genuinely competent men and decent teachers, they were also watched like hawks. Our principal was female, all leadership positions in the school (such as House Leaders, Year Level Co-Ordinators, Department Heads, even the chaplain) were held by women. Our school psychologists, our nurses, our library technicians, our café ladies, our career advisors, our tutors—all were women. Our school houses (think like Harry Potter houses) were named after important women in our country’s history.

I went to a co-ed primary school. And whilst at twelve you might not have the words to describe it, graduating from a co-ed space, into an all-female space is really a giant weight off of your shoulders. You don’t realise how suffocating co-education is until you’re no longer having to bear it. It feels so much more natural, so much more free! You are welcomed as you are. You can be loud and unashamed of it. We joked frequently with each other and our teachers, laughed loudly and cared not whether our laughs were ‘ugly’. I found that teachers were far more supportive than they were in my co-ed school. For example, in a co-ed school I had been told frequently to ‘pipe down’ or to ‘reel it in’ from teachers, and more vexingly to ‘shut up’ from boys due to my boisterous personality. In high school? My teachers encouraged me to audition for the play because I had ‘great projection’. In every school programme (more on those later) that I was involved in, I was the one asked to give speeches about them at assembly. I was asked to be the lead of our house chants during our sports festivals. I was asked to join the debate team because of my passionate nature, which in primary school, had me known as ‘difficult’.

Likewise, I had a friend who was by nature quiet, and loved to draw. In primary school she’d doodled on the back of a work booklet, and when her teacher returned it, she’d taken off two points and had written a comment saying something about teachers in high school not accepting work that was drawn on.

Do you know what happened when she got to high school? Our English teacher had seen the eye she’d drawn on the back of our Romeo and Juliet test and had written, ‘beautiful!’ above it. The next test, she drew a two-headed cat with witches’ hats on both heads (I remember the left head was called Turpentine and the right head was called Esmeralda). Our teacher wrote, ‘wonderful!’ above it, with a smiley face.

The next day she got an email from our art teacher that had a PDF flyer of information on both in-school and local art competitions.

Anyway, she had questions and that teacher answered every single one of them. She also personally helped her select the works she wanted to submit. She ended up having two pieces shown in the school gallery, along forty pieces made by other girls. About five years later for our final year, on that art teacher’s recommendation (and tutelage!) she took all of the visual art subjects on offer. When she graduated, her final piece was shown at a public exhibition in our state’s capital city, that honoured the best pieces done by select graduating students in the state.

So yeah. Our teachers were pretty amazing. Of course, there was the odd teacher or two you would butt heads with but that’s just a universal school experience. Our humanities classes, like history, for example, often had a unit that would focus on the female experience of a certain time period. For example, when learning about WW2, we did projects on female resistance fighters et cetera.

We had health classes that were actually focused on female health. We learnt about female anatomy (even the clitoris! Though we were all about thirteen/fourteen at this time so we found it incredibly awkward to talk about), as well as symptoms of PCOS during our menstrual unit. We learnt about contraceptive methods and devices (however, as a Catholic school they did have to tell us that whilst these methods are available, the church-sanctioned method is of course, abstinence).

Whilst the majority of the girls shaved their legs and wore makeup, as someone who did neither of those things I rarely felt judgement about it (albeit, I think there was a little for my lack of makeup, but this only lasted the first two years). A good portion of our staff also did not wear makeup, I don’t recall this ever being commented on. And, by the time we’d reached about our third year, a good portion of my year level and the ones above did not wear makeup on a daily basis. Leg hair was not looked down upon by any of us I don’t think by this year either. In fact, if you were particularly hairy often your hairless friends asked to rub your legs!

We were never short of female role-models, our staff made sure of that. We had multiple days per year when guest speakers would come and talk to us, mostly these were women who were experts in their fields—whether that be neuroscience or computer science, linguistics and literature or mathematics, politics, et cetera. The only times we really had male guest speakers was when police officers (one male one female) came to give us an assembly about sexual peer-pressure and laws around sharing nudes that was basically, “these are common (male) manipulation tactics used to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do, don’t fall for them”.

We were encouraged to take STEM subjects, and those of us that had taken interest in computer programming were sent to coding programmes in the city during school hours! That’s how keen our teachers were to get more women into the field! This was the same with the girls interested in politics, who got to go to Model UN events, as well as mock parliaments in the country’s capitol.

We had a lot of programmes generally. A few overseas ones for girls who were in LOTE (languages other than English) classes. A few interstate ones, too. And of course, local programmes and excursions. Most of them (aside from the LOTE ones which focused on immersion) were volunteer programmes aimed at helping women and girls. The rest were about furthering our own skills or learning new ones. Majority of these were year-level based, but a few depended on the clubs/groups/classes you were in. For example, I was part of the Writer’s Club, and we took an excursion to the state Writer’s Festival and listened to female writers as well as feminist panels. We also had self-defence programmes every year.

In terms of peers I generally found everyone to be quite amiable by the time we’d reached our third/fourth year. There’s a common myth about all girls schools being filled with ‘catty’ girls who are constantly bitching about one another, but I really did not find that to ring true. There were a few fights and arguments in the earlier years, I was part of quite a lot lol but that’s honestly… just something that happens at school, at any school. Largely, we were good to each other. If someone was crying there was always someone who’d ask her what was wrong. If you missed the notes on the slide, there was always a girl willing to share her notes with you.

I think going to an all-girl’s school, and not having that much interaction with the opposite sex generally for that six-year period truly does something, I think, to your psyche. We are socialised to look down on our fellow woman, socialised to look down upon ourselves. But actually being constantly surrounded by women, and almost ONLY women, really helps to undo that. Even now I could not describe the fierce love I have for all those women and girls I came in contact with during my time there—even the ones I bickered with. Each and every single woman I met there enriched my life in some way or another. I think that is the effect of consistently spending time in any female-only space: developing a true appreciation for women. It is the only reasonable conclusion to come to.

I have been out of high school for two years, and in university for one. Among the many men I have met since, none of them have even been able to hold a candle to the any women and girls I know.

Anyway. TLDR: it slapped, send your daughters to same-sex schools!!

#this is so long sorry #long post #radfem safe #separatism #radfem

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may-clouds · 3 years

Text

IRONY

ron weasley x f!potter!reader oneshot

― at a gryffindor party, ron can't stand the sight of ginny kissing someone, yet contradicts himself later in the evening, much to your pleasure and amusement

― fluff

― 2.3k words

― warnings: brief mentions of alcohol and underage drinking, pretty intense make-out session lmao.

masterlist

Drunkenly making out with one of your best friends wasn't how you thought your evening was going to go. Especially when you factored in the way that he was propped above you, one hand beside your head with the other firmly on your waist as you lay on top of his bed.

It had all started with the Gryffindor's usual celebratory party in the common room. It had kicked off like it usually would have, but this time something was different.

It was as if something inside of you had changed that night, there was always a tension between yourself and Ron, it was pretty obvious to almost everyone.

But neither of you acted on it before, too afraid about what the other would think. Harry being your brother and also Ron's best friend didn't help this situation at all.

Obviously he was one of your best friends too, as was Hermione, but there was some undeniable tension between you and the redhead, and Harry didn't seem to like it.

It may have been the alcohol giving you confidence, or maybe you were just fed up with suppressing your own feelings, but something made you want to stay by Ron's side that evening.

He was sitting beside Harry, a bottle of firewhiskey in each of their hands as they spoke idly to eachother.

"Hey guys," you greet them, sitting in the only empty seat on the crimson sofa, which happened to be beside Ron, "What's going on?"

"Ginny’s making out with some random guy over there. Ron’s trying to kill him with just his eyes." Harry said, filling you in.

Now that he’d mentioned it, you noticed the other boy’s deadly expression. You followed his stare and saw exactly what your brother was talking about.

Your jaw dropped a little at the sight, "Well that sure is something." you manage to say, turning away from the very visual scene that was going on in the corner of the common room.

"Yeah, a weird and very gross something." Ron replied bitterly, "How would she feel if I was snogging someone right in the open like that?"

That was when Hermione approached your group, resting her forearms on the sofa's back behind you, "I’m sure she wouldn’t care as much as you do." she said curtly.

"That's my little sister! Of course she'd care." the ginger exclaimed, "Besides, it's weird to see your sibling with their tongue down someone else's throat!"

"Then stop watching her like a hawk, she's old enough to do what she wants by now." you say, rolling your eyes at Ron. He could only shoot you a betrayed look.

"I hate to say it Y/n, but I kind of agree with Ron, I think I'd rather die than watch you..." Harry trailed off to gesture over at Ginny, "Do that."

"I can snog who I want." you reply bluntly. The bottle of firewhiskey you'd downed earlier had hit your system pretty quickly, breaking down any filter you would usually have.

"And who says I haven't kissed anyone here, I wouldn't need your permission." you added, mentally cursing yourself for actually saying all of that out loud.

Both of the boys' faces dropped slightly, and Ron's brows furrowed, "I'm going to get another drink." he muttered, making a sudden exit from the sofa.

"What's up with him?" Hermione asked, taking Ron's old place next to you.

"I don't know, I think I should go and check on him." you sigh.

Your brother quickly volunteers to take his place as if he knew something you didn't, "I can go." he blurted out.

"I doubt you're sober enough to even stand right now Harry." you scoff, "You're a weird drunk. You can still talk normally, but you can just never walk properly."

"Am not!" he retorted with a glare.

"Are too." you scowl, flicking his forehead, "Hermione, could you look after him while I'm gone?"

The girl nodded, taking a sip from her glass. She was the most sober of your friends, only allowing herself to get a little tipsy.

It was easy to find where Ron had gone, he was only a little way away from the drinks table, scowling at his cup. He was leant against the wall nearby the entrance to the dorms. Clearly he was considering whether to go up there or not.

"What's wrong, why did you leave so quickly?" you ask, appearing beside him.

Ron took a deep breath, not even looking up at you. He finished the remaining liquid in his glass and carelessly tossed it towards the table behind him.

"You haven't actually snogged anyone tonight, right?" he asked. His whole body seemed tense, and he still refused to look at you.

"Is that what all of this is about? You ran off because you don't like it when someone's sister kisses someone at a party?" you exclaim in disbelief, "That's unbelievable!"

"Answer my question." he demands through gritted teeth.

It was as if something had possessed him. You'd never known Ron to act like this in all the years you'd known him.

"No! No I haven't, and I wouldn't do that anyway because funnily enough I'm actually interested in someone." you blurt out, yet again cursing your lack of filter, "So if that's what you're mad about then you can calm down."

Your words seemed to spark something in him as he pushed himself from the wall. Now that he was finally facing you, he took a few steps closer. For every step Ron took towards you, you took one backwards until your back hit the wall.

The pair of you were now in the archway of the boys' dorm entrance, so it was cramped enough already without him towering over you.

"That's not what got me annoyed." he murmured, drinking in the image of your face.

Your voice dropped to match the volume of his, "Then what is it?"

His eyes roamed over your face, not knowing where to look until they finally froze on your lips. Your heart fluttered under his gaze, you felt like even breathing to sharply would shatter this moment like a hammer to glass.

Without another word, he lowered his head to your level, you could feel every single one of his warm breaths fan across your lips.

The world felt like it became silent, nothing in the room mattered and your full attention was on the boy in front of you. Ron's hand moved to rest on your cheek, giving you a chance to move away if you wanted to.

You let your eyes flutter closed as he leaned impossibly closer and finally pressed his lips to yours. If the world had slowed down earlier, it must have fully stopped in that moment.

The kiss was slow and gentle, if Ron's arm wasn't wrapped firmly around your waist you would've had the fear of falling over because of your weakened knees. Your hands found a place in his hair, fingers winding through the fluffy strands.

When you tugged at his locks gently, a small noise erupted through his parted lips as he shifted to have you pressed against the wall even further.

He pulled away by a fraction, his soft lips still slightly brushed yours as he spoke.

"You see, I don't like when the girl I fancy says she's interested in kissing other guys and not me." he admits sheepishly, suddenly looking away from you, but not stepping backwards.

You quickly reached out and cupped his face with your hand, guiding him to meet your eyes again, "I never said I didn't want to kiss you, did I?"

"So you're saying..?"

"Why would I kiss you if you weren't the one I wanted." you chuckle hoarsely.

This time you were the one to initiate a kiss, your hands left his hair and opted to keep cupping his face. He immediately reciprocated with a lot more energy than the first. More confidence had gathered inside of him after your confession and he wanted to show you how he felt through his actions.

He pulled away yet again to mumble, "That's all I've ever wanted to hear."

Not another second was wasted as your lips met for the third time that evening. This kiss was undeniably more intense and frantic than the previous ones, but you weren't complaining at all.

Well, that was until you thought of something, "I thought Harry said he'd rather die than catch me kissing someone." you chuckle breathlessly, "And you said you didn't like seeing your sister snogging a boy in public, but we're doing the same."

"Then let's go, we won't let him catch us." he replied, stepping away from you, but keeping a hand on the small of your back and gesturing to the nearby staircase with his other hand.

Your breath hitched and you forced your eyes from his to look where he was pointing. Only slightly to your left was the staircase to the boy's dorms, and that was where he was suggesting for you both to go.

"If that's okay with you, of course." he added, seemingly taken aback with his own forwardness.

"That's fine by me." you whisper, pressing a subtle, feather-light kiss to the corner of his jaw.

His hand tensed against you upon the contact, and you revelled in how such a small action from you could fluster him so easily.

You don't remember him leading you up the stairs with your hand in his, the mix of alcohol and the elation was making your head spin.

However what you do remember is the creaky dorm door closing behind you, and then suddenly your back was against it. Ron's lips found their way to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to any of the soft skin he could access.

"Fuck- Ron." you breathed out, whatever you actually wanted to say died on your tongue before you could force it out.

The way you said his name seemed to set a fire inside of him, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to kiss you like this." he confessed, lips brushing against your neck as he spoke.

"Then kiss me again, Weasley." you reply teasingly, voice barely above a whisper.

That was all he needed, lifting his head to meet your gaze with a giddy grin that made your heart swell. You waited a moment to take in his expression before pulling him back in with a hand cupping his cheek.

Your hands quickly moved to tangle in his hair, keeping his lips feverishly moving against yours. His tongue slipped through your lips, taking you by surprise, but it was a welcome surprise nonetheless.

He pulled you closer by your hips, slowly moving backwards, further into the room. Your back left the cool surface of the door, and soon was met by the plush comfort of a mattress.

Again, Ron parted from you, except now he was looking down at you, "You okay?" he asked, panting slightly in an attempt to regain his breath.

"More than okay." you smile back, giggling at his flushed appearance.

His hair was dishevelled by your hands and his tie was crooked and almost falling off, but he still managed to make your heart skip a beat.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as he cautiously crawled up the bed towards you. His cheeks flared a deep shade of pink under your watchful eye.

Slowly, you leaned towards him, and for one more time, he closed the gap between you. This kiss was somehow more passionate than the last, releasing years of pent-up emotions that both of you had kept hidden away from eachother.

He pressed you backwards so you were fully laying down again, but this time he was hovering above you. A hand gripped your waist with the other planted beside your head, keeping his steady.

You kissed him like he was the only thing keeping you from death - feelings you couldn't even attempt to put into words were explained to him through that kiss.

"Oh my Merlin- So this is where you both disappeared off to?" an all too familiar voice gasped from the doorway.

Ron's head jerked up and away from you, snapping towards the sound of the voice. You glanced over too, making eye-contact with none other than your brother.

"Well-" you start, but Harry interrupts again.

"You suddenly vanish and now I find him on top of you?" he sighs exasperatedly.

In that moment you realise that Ron was in fact still hovering over you, so you nudge him with your hand, and thankfully he rolls off of you. Both of you now sat upright on the bed, waiting for what was coming next.

"You were right, it is weird to see your sister with their tongue down someone else's throat." he says, this time directed to Ron.

"C'mon mate, you know how I feel about her." Ron's words take you by surprise, and your expression shows that.

With eyebrows raised, you glanced between both boys, who were currently having a stare-off between one another.

"Yeah, fine." Harry reluctantly says, "I'm leaving now."

The door slammed behind him, and both you and Ron stayed in silence for a moment longer, just in case.

"Well, that could've gone a whole lot worse." he laughed awkwardly, filling the silence.

"Yeah..." you agree, "I should probably go, don't you think?"

"No, stay! Please?" Ron pleads, moving so he's now kneeling in front of you.

You smile gently at him, "How could I say no to you?"

He matches your smile, not being able to help himself as he dips his head back down to kiss you again, drunk not only on the fading sensation of the alcohol, but the feeling of his lips on yours.

#ron weasley #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley one shot #fanfiction #gryffindor #idk what to put here #potter!reader #weasley x reader #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts #ron weasley oneshot #ao3 #wattpad #reader insert #fanfic #writing #may-writes

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hawkinsschoolcounselor · 3 years

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I don’t usually do these things, but both @tsugarubecker and @strangertheory tagged me, so here we go...

three ships:

Mike x Will (Stranger Things)

Hawk/Eli x Demetri (Cobra Kai)

Mobius x jet skis (Loki)

last song:

Holding Out For a Hero by Bonnie Tyler (on my 80s workout playlist). If it’s not from the 80s, I don’t want to listen to it.

last movie:

Ladybugs, a guilty pleasure of mine from the 90s. Rodney Dangerfield is a businessman who tries to secure a promotion by volunteering to coach his boss’ company soccer team. Since he knows nothing about soccer, he drags along his administrative assistant (Jackee Harry) to be assistant coach and convinces his fiance’s son (Jonathan Brandis) to come on as a ringer. Oh, did I mention it’s a girls’ soccer team? Shenanigans ensue.

currently reading:

Culturally Responsive Teaching & The Brain (for work), but I’ve been slowly trying to work my way through the Complete Works of H.P. Lovecraft that I got a while back.

currently watching:

Literally The Simpsons, but I imagine this is asking what show I’m currently following, so Marvel’s What If...?

currently consuming:

I’m dieting, but I did indulge in some cherry Italian ice a little while ago.

currently craving:

Pasta bolognese. It’s something I’ve gotten rather good at making over the summer, but it’s going to be harder to find time to do it now that I’m back to work.

I’m not going to tag anyone in this, but I suppose I can just passively tag any of my followers who wish to do it.

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drkineildwicks · 2 years

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Those following my Patreon might have seen this already, but for those who haven’t...have some bird-people. \.o./

Anywho—did some character sketches for a story I’m writing, Edifice Coulee. Basically it involves bird-people and I’ve been having a very good time with it thus far. :D Hopefully I can get some more work on it done in the coming months….

So—from left to right, starting from the top left, we have:

Grace Dalinboros—American Robin—the leader of the little coulee, she’s constantly at her wit’s end trying to keep everyone in one piece.

Heiyu Dalinboros—European Starling—Grace’s adopted son, adventurous and sometimes troublesome.

Nathan Shrike—Shrike—head of the scouting team, often one of the people Grace can have a serious discussion with in regards to any problems they run into.

Neil Anser—Bean Goose—panicky and with a tendency to crack wise at inappropriate times, Neil does try his best.

Benji Harrison-Cooper—Cooper’s Hawk—part of the hatchery crew, Benji is snarky at times and has been trying to get a still working for a while now.

Hunter Harrison-Cooper—Harris Hawk—part of the hatchery crew, Hunter is a big fan of bird-kids and thinks they’re adorable.

Riley Harrison—Harrier Hawk—part of the hatchery crew and cousin to Benji and Hunter. Has the same sort of sass Benji does.

Bernice Cooper—White-tailed Kite/Grayhawk—mother to Benji and Hunter, was originally part of the hatchery crew until Nathan put her on guard duty.

Martha—Flammulated Owl—head of the hatchery crew, born mother hen, is often after Grace to at least take more naps.

Abby—Pacific Coast Pygmy Owl—part of the hatchery crew, keeps the books, mellower than Martha for the most part.

Anne Chanlek-Zapornia—Baillon’s Crake—part of the hatchery crew but also volunteers for the foraging crew. Body type falls under harpy.

Hugh—Northern Hawk Owl—part of the expansion team that occasionally gets rotated to the hatchery crew, Hugh has more affinity for expansion than eggsitting and eventually volunteers for Nathan’s guard crew.

Dorian Grayson—Northern Wheatear—part of the expansion team that occasionally gets rotated to the hatchery crew. Dorian is friends with Hugh but is much more mild than he is.

Marshmallow—Ptarmigan/Nightjar/Snowy Owl—big griffin that often works in the hatchery since he can keep a lot of eggs warm, Marshmallow only speaks bird and is one of the few first-gen members of the coulee who was never human to begin with.

Edith Strumaja—Tyto Alba/Spotted Owl—encounters the coulee shortly after escaping her captors alongside her niece. A griffin and a language professor, only speaking bird is currently an annoyance for her.

Luiza LeChuza—Elf Owl/Towhee—niece to Edith and taking being a bird-person in better stride.

Terry—White-collared Seedeater—part of the garden crew and one of the older members, is okay with the claws because it helps with the tending.

Alan—Sachman’s Sparrow—part of the garden crew and one of the older members, he can tell you that bird-people beards are actually feathers.

Bob Collins-Ridgeway—Chickens/Masked Bobwhite—somewhere between griffin and standard, Bob is big and burly and often at his wit’s end trying to keep from socking Benji a new one.

Honesty time, this story started off as a Big Hero 6 fic, but it resembled the initial inspiration so little once I started writing that I decided to axe that and go where the story wills. Does have characters whose starting inspirations come from shows like Baby Daddy, Owl House, Amphibia, and The Incredibles though, to be fair…but then again all stories but One takes their inspiration from somewhere else so I think we’re good. :)

Done in colored pencils.

#edifice coulee #original characters #original writing #original fiction #started off as a bh6 fanfic but it went so far off the rails that I filed the serial numbers off and let it go where it will #been having a lot of fun following the misadventures of a flock of bird-people #my art #my characters #now to hopefully finish it this year so I can start with the editing and maybe shilling #maybe on tapas with illustrations someday idk

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latenightsleuth · 3 years

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(Image from: https://disappearedblog.com/disappeared-episode-list/)

The Loxahatchee Horror – Could It Happen to Your Aviary?

If everyone in your household should suddenly disappear, would anyone notice? If they did notice, would they have the initiative or the authority to break into your house to rescue your birds from starvation? In the case of Moses Lall, the well-known bird importer, the answer was no–at least not in time to save the lives of most of the approximately 1,000 birds whose cages lined the open field behind his rented house. On June 15, l994, after the continued urging of several concerned parties, local authorities entered the property. The gruesome sight that they beheld was something that should appear only in ones’ worst nightmare.

What Happened

Moses Lall and his aunt, Lila Buerattan, both natives of Guyana, South America, had lived on a rented 5-acre ranch in Loxahatchee, Florida, since December of 1992. They had moved to the rural community with the idea of starting a large bird-breeding farm. They spoke with no one in the local avicultural community, nor did they interact with anyone at any of the surrounding ranches. They lived extremely private lives, and no one, except their veterinarian, was ever permitted to see their birds. In fact, they even refused to purchase a license that would have allowed them to legally breed and sell birds within the state of Florida. When approached by Florida Fish and Game officers the previous year and urged to purchase a permit and undergo the minimal inspection procedures, they declined. They claimed that the birds were not for sale or breeding, and were being maintained for their personal pleasure. Most of us locals who knew of them never saw them, and were aware of their existence only because we all used the same feed company. In fact, it was the feed company that began sounding the alarm that something was wrong.

On June 9th, the driver for Bird Haven Feed Company arrived to deliver the weekly supply of primate biscuits, sunflower seeds and dried corn to Lall’s farm. No one was there to let him in. Finding no one at the gate to receive the feed was highly unusual. Realizing that they never purchased reserve supplies, and not wanting the birds to go hungry, he piled the feed up in front of the gates. They tried to reach Lall by phone to make sure all was well, but no one answered. Feeling uncomfortable about the situation, they returned the next day. The feed was still piled up outside the gate and had been ruined by the rain. At this point, they called several local aviculturists, as well as Lall’s veterinarian. The questions put to all of them were the same: Do you know where Moses and Lila are? Do you now them well enough to jump the fence, walk through the pack of dogs and go around to the rear of the property to see if someone has been feeding the birds? They all gave the same negative answer.

Between the 11th and the 15th of June, several concerned parties, including the seed company and the veterinarian, began calling the authorities and demanding that action be taken. As birds were starving to death, the concerned parties were sent in a circular motion from one agency to the next. The Palm Beach County Sheriffs’ Department, upon hearing the story, said that animal abuse was the jurisdiction of the Palm Beach County Animal Control. When Animal Control heard the words macaws and parrots, they explained that jurisdiction over exotic birds had been taken way from them and given to Florida Fish and Game. Florida Fish and Game explained that since the facility was not permitted by them, they had no right to enter. They added that if, in fact, birds were starving, a misdemeanor had been committed and that was the jurisdiction of the Sheriffs’ Department.

On June 15th, the feed company contacted Bob and Liz Johnson, who rescue abused, mistreated and crippled birds through a branch of their nonprofit organization, Life Awareness Inc. At that point, Liz contacted me and Dr. Susan Clubb to get a full update on what avenues had been pursued. Upon discovering that pleas for action had been thwarted by “red tape,” she called the Sheriffs’ Office and made demands. After “much insistence,” they reluctantly agreed to send out someone to investigate. The deputy immediately called the Johnsons and reported that our worst fears had been realized. The Johnsons, Dr. Clubb, I and my daughter Stacie raced to the scene to offer assistance in the feeding and care of the birds. By that time, all three of the previously contacted agencies were present.

We were totally unprepared for the sight that we encountered. It was a horror beyond belief: row after row of cages with either dead or dying green-winged and blue-and-gold macaws. Literally every pair of macaws had at least one dead member. Several had succumbed to starvation and dehydration, with their heads in their empty food bowls–a final desperate move with the hope that food would arrive before their last breath was drawn. Although the collection was made up predominately of large macaws, there were also hundreds of smaller parrots and toucans. These included Amazons, hawk heads, African greys, Jardine’s, Pionus and mini macaws. Most of these had succumbed. There were several cages with 25 to 30 birds in them that had either one or no survivors. It was a miracle that any of the birds were alive.

The feed company had told us what the farm’s approximate weekly consumption was. By taking inventory of the feed that was left in the garage, we were able to determine that the birds had not been fed in at least 10 days.

Inside the house awaited another horror. Incubators, still operating, contained dead babies that had hatched but were never fed. Aquarium brooders that were lined up against the wall all had one or two dead baby blue-and-gold macaws. All had starved to death, sitting on clean bedding, while waiting for their next meal. An open bucket of handfeeding formula was on the kitchen counter with a bowl and spoon next to it. It appeared as if someone had changed the bedding in the brooders and was ready to mix up some formula when he or she was interrupted. With our assistance, Dr. Clubb was able to tube-feed those that were too weak to eat or drink. One died in Bob Johnson’s hands while it was waiting to be tube fed. Another 60 birds that were too far gone died the following day. In all, there were only 335 birds left alive from the flock of almost 1,000. The following morning, the birds were taken to the Palm Beach Animal Control facility. Food donations, as well as volunteer labor from all the local bird clubs and organizations, began pouring in. When Lall’s family from Guyana tried to claim the birds as family property, they were presented with a bill for $130,000. The majority of this bill was Animal Control’s standard charge of $10 per animal per day for the care of confiscated animals. Ten dollars per day multiplied by 335 birds adds up very quickly. As the Lalls fought to regain the birds at a more reasonable price, the bill rose to approximately $180,000. On August 22, a judge ordered that the birds be auctioned off individually to the general public in order to raise the most money. Exactly what happened to Moses and Lila is still officially a mystery. Those who knew them said that they truly loved their birds and would never have deserted them. Moses and Lila are now considered dead. The murder investigation cannot proceed any further until their bodies are found. There were also two other people staying at the farm that were originally considered missing. They were Daljeet “Harry” Gobin, a fellow Guyanese, and Felix Eyuom, a reptile dealer from Africa. Harry Gobin is being sought for questioning.

The purpose of this article is not to try to solve an unsolved crime. It is to make everyone aware that such things can and do happen. Although this situation may be unique due to its magnitude, it is not unheard of on a smaller scale. It is not uncommon to read about animals dying from lack of care due to the undiscovered death or incapacitation of those responsible for their care.

What You Can Do

To prevent such a calamity from happening again, each and every one of you should have a plan. This plan should ensure that, should anything happen to you, it will be discovered without delay and your animals will be cared for. This can be as simple as a regularly expected phone call to a friend, a relative or someone’s answering machine. A simple statement like “I’m okay” is all that is necessary. The receiver of the regular call must be ready to notify someone who has been given written authority by you to break into your house and aviaries to care for your birds if you cannot be located. It must also be specifically stated, in a notarized document, who will hold and care for your birds until your whereabouts are discovered, or until your estate is settled. Your birds must never be allowed to be considered legally abandoned.

Lall’s birds were considered abandoned. They suffered the ultimate fate of being sold to the highest bidder without regard to the bidder’s expertise. Two thousand people converged at the auction on September 10th. Most were there to buy a cheap bird for their kids. Most bought bronco wild breeder macaws with the intention of turning them into pets.

Luckily, due to some generous monetary donations, the Johnsons were able to purchase the birds that were blind or crippled. These were purchased to be retired to the parrot sanctuary that they maintain.

All the birds were sold in small temporary holding cages with no doors and with two tiny metal cups. The idea behind no doors was to keep the public from opening the cages at the auction site after the purchase. It was explained to the buyers that the birds should be transferred to suitable housing after they were removed. Unfortunately, two weeks later buyers were still showing up at local vets with their purchases still in the temporary cages with no doors and nothing but the two tiny cups for food and water. As time went on, a large percentage of the birds were diagnosed with papilloma infections.

All proceeds from the publication of this article will go to support the parrot sanctuary run by the Johnsons. Private donations are also appreciated. Their address is Life Awareness Bird Sanctuary, P.O. Box 641032, Miami, FL 33164.

#moseslall #moseslallandlilabuerattan #lilabuerattan #missing #missingadults #missingrelatives #missing person #disappeared #thecharleyproject #charleyproject #lifeawarenessbirdsanctuary #voren #latenightsleuth

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ghostspideys-moved · 4 years

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chasing visions of our futures: chapter two

a/n: I meant to have this done much earlier today, but at least I got it finished!

word count: 2k

pairing: barry allen x oc

summary: River Matthews decides to cause some chaos in Central City, mostly for fun, but also for the attention she knows she’ll get from The Flash. When he catches her, and she gets a second chance, she has to decide whether she should take it or if there’s no changing for her. There’s a lot more to her the more Barry tries to dig, and the more he does, the more River’s afraid he won’t like what he finds out.

chapter summary: Team Flash has to decide what to do with River, and with Hawthorne’s help, things might start looking up for her.

Being stuck in the Pipeline for this long was already driving River insane. Maybe not literally, but she was extremely bored, and she didn’t handle her boredom well. Not that she could do much about it if she wanted to. Cisco really had done a good job of designing the cells.

While the rest of Team Flash - Hawthorne included - was deciding her fate, River was left to hope she wouldn’t be kept here forever. Yeah, so she’d been causing them a lot of trouble for several days now, but they couldn’t just keep her in here forever, right?

Luckily, Hawthorne came back eventually. She held onto the hope she had that maybe they’d let her go. After all, she could have done a lot worse, and River could be fairly persuasive if she tried. Not that she thought it would matter. Whatever they decided, they’d probably be set on it.

“So, I have some good news and some bad news,” Hawthorne said. “The good news is, apparently, they’re willing to let you out of here."

River, who’d previously been splayed out on the cell floor, shot up to her feet. "Seriously?” Honestly, she hadn’t expected them to actually do it.

“Yes, but on one condition.” That made her pause, the smile she’d had on her face dropping. “I convinced them to give you a chance as long as you try turning a new leaf.”

“What?” River exclaimed. That was practically impossible for her, and she already knew she’d just let them down if she even tried. “What even makes you think I could do that?”

Hawthorne sighed, crossing his arms. “I think you could if you actually tried. You’re not a terrible person, River. Maybe just a bit…misguided.”

That felt like the understatement of the year. She might be worse off than he thought.

River groaned and pressed her forehead against the glass of the cell. This was a lot to process. “Okay, so let’s say for a second that I even entertain that idea. What have I ever done to make you think I can even change?” Even she had her doubts, and she could imagine it would take some time before the team even trusted her if she went along. On the other hand, it might be a nicer alternative to being kept in the Pipeline for however long.

“Not much, but I care about you enough that I did what I could to convince them to give you a chance. Because I know what you’ve been through, and I think you at least deserve that chance.” It was clear that Hawthorne meant it, but she was still having a hard time wrapping her head around his words.

“They’re just stressed out with all the metahumans that are constantly popping up, and they’ve been through a lot, so it might take them some time to warm up to you,” he continued. “But if you just give it a chance, I think you’ll like it a lot better than being stuck with dad for the rest of eternity.”

River sighed and looked away as she let it all sink in. Realistically, she knew he was right, and squandering this chance might be her worst decision ever. “And what happens if I don’t go along with it?”

Hawthorne shrugged, feigning a casual expression. “More than likely, you go to Iron Heights with the rest of the metahumans. Which is just as hard to escape as this cell.”

The odds were stacked against her, and while River could be stubborn and unwilling to cooperate in the worst of circumstances, it was clear to her what her best option was. She’d have to play along.

“Alright, fine. I’ll give it a shot,” she decided. “But I’m not guaranteeing you this will even work.” In fact, she had a very good feeling his misplaced faith in her was only going to bite him in the ass eventually.

“I only ask that you try.”

Hawthorne relayed her decision to the rest of the team, and he came back with Caitlin to let her out. Of course, they were going to watch her like a hawk now that she was free, but River much preferred it to the boring cell she’d be stuck in otherwise.

“Are you ready for the bad news?” Hawthorne asked once she was free. In her eagerness, she forgot there even was a bad end to all this.

“I suppose.”

“I have my own team to work with, so I won’t be around much. So, as much as I’d love to have you stay with me, I won’t be in Central City to keep an eye on you. I’m a little busy with the Legends,” he explained. “But Caitlin’s agreed to show you around while I sort out everything else I need to.”

Admittedly, the thought of exploring a little was exciting. S.T.A.R. Labs seemed like a pretty big place, and to say she didn’t think it could be cool to look around would be a lie. “Sounds fun,” River said.

Hawthorne patted her back, giving her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be around for a little longer before I have to head out."

With that, he left her with Caitlin. River followed her around the building, curiously looking around. Already, she could tell she was bound to get lost on her own, at least for a while. She tried to create a mental map, which was easier said than done. Still reeling from the fact that she was even here, she’d only caught half of what Caitlin was saying in her tour of the lab. Part of her felt bad for not totally listening, but another part of her wondered why she even felt bad at all. Really, her thoughts and emotions were all over the place, but she made a mental note to thank her brother sometime for getting her out of the Pipeline. From what she could tell, he was pretty good friends with everyone on Team Flash, which was probably the biggest deciding factor in her release. Otherwise, she was sure she wouldn’t be following Caitlin through the halls.

River snapped out of her thoughts as they stopped in Cisco’s workshop. The only other person in the room, though, was another man who was definitely not Cisco. And he was throwing things out of frustration.

"This is Harry,” Caitlin explained, seemingly not even fazed by his behavior. “Don’t worry. This is normal for him."

It was almost comforting how strange everyone on the team was. At least from her perspective. While she still had her doubts about this working out, she felt a little better knowing she probably wasn’t much stranger than them, or at least that they’d probably accept how different she was if they could accept Harry’s weird outbursts.

"I can tell,” River said. Not the strangest thing she’d seen.

Caitlin pulled her away, letting Harry work through his problem as they finished up the tour. “Don’t worry if you get a little lost right away. It take a little adjusting to this place for everyone.”

“Yeah, no kidding. It’s bigger than I thought.” Though she didn’t say it, it was kind of exciting. She could definitely get used to this. And, if she was being honest, she kind of enjoyed listening to Caitlin, at least for as much as she’d listened.

“Well, I’ll be here if you ever need help,” Caitlin assured her. “We’re all supposed to make sure you’re supervised until we can fully trust you, but that wasn’t my idea.”

River wasn’t too surprised, and she wouldn’t have expected otherwise. It was probably a fair call, though. A smart move on their end. No doubt they knew better than to trust a stranger right away, especially someone they’d been trying to catch for a few days now.

“Speaking of which,” Caitlin continued, “We figured, since Hawthorne’s usually busy, you probably need somewhere to stay. So, I volunteered to let you stay with me for a while.”

Of all the people River could have ended up with, she seemed the most tolerable. Caitlin hadn’t been anything but kind so far, which kind of threw her off guard, admittedly, but it was kind of nice.

“You’re really sure you want me around?” Caitlin nodded, a smile still present on her face. “Alright, but I’m a lot to handle being around for that long.”

She didn’t seem too dissuaded, oddly enough. “Trust me, I’ve dealt with worse,” Caitlin said.

Seeing as it was getting pretty late, Caitlin wrapped up and let everyone know they were heading out. Everyone seemed worried about leaving her with River, even if they didn’t say. And surely Caitlin knew her friends well enough to see it, too, but she didn’t seem to carry the same unease as the rest of them. She simply dismissed it and lead the way to her apartment.

Caitlin’s apartment seemed nice than anywhere River had ever lived, though her standards weren’t very high. Hell wasn’t exactly a great place, so anywhere might have been nicer. Just from looking around, she could tell Caitlin must be a neat person. Nothing was really out of place, and she didn’t seem to leave many messes, if any.

Figuring River must be hungry, Caitlin found something for them to snack on in the meantime. Though she’d eaten a little while in her cell, she would never turn down food, and she did often found herself hungry quicker than she knew was probably normal. So the thoughtfulness didn’t go unappreciated.

It really was strange having someone actually being kind and concerned for her, even if it was just small things. It was just new and different, in a good way.

Caitlin made sure River was set for the night so she could sleep well. Tomorrow, they’d work on some training and getting her used to working with everyone else, so she’d need as much sleep as she could get. River knew that would be hard with how much difficulty she had sleeping, as if her brain refused to shut off, but she didn’t worry Caitlin with that. She could deal with it herself.

Once River had a decent layout of the house in case she needed the bathroom in the middle of the night or anything else, Caitlin let her be and went to her room to rest. As she’s expected of herself, River couldn’t sleep right away. Which was fine. It was normal for her. But now she had so much time to herself, and therefore more time to think.

Today had been so strange. Such a whirlwind as everything changed. If it hadn’t been for her brother, she wouldn’t be here right now, and though they had a lot of problems to sort out between each other, she greatly appreciated his help. And Caitlin was probably the first person to show her any kindness in a long time. As strange as it was, River welcomed it. And though she had some concerns and doubts about joining a team of heroes, she was kind of glad they’d even given her a chance. They certainly didn’t have to, though she knew it was mainly to do with Hawthorne.

This could be the start of something much better. And if she had anything to say about it, she was going to make the most of it while she could. River thought back to what Hawthorne said about her being misguided. By all means, she knew he was right. She might have done some horrible things - things she often regretted when she stop to think about it - but it wasn’t the end of the world for her. There might still be a chance for her after all.

It was with that small shred of hope that River actually found herself growing tired. It had been a long day, and she was far too comfortable not to feel sleepy. Her last thought before letting sleep take over was, I hope I don’t let them down too much.

#barry allen #the flash #the flash cw #barry allen x reader #barry allen x original character #barry allen x oc #barry allen imagine #the flash imagine #the flash x oc #the flash x original character

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wonjaekook · 4 years

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What the Cat Had to Say

A/N: This wasn’t something I was entirely comfortable with writing because I was never the biggest HP fan (I never finished the books oops) and I was unsure about some of the lore, but hopefully this is an okay take on it ^^ yes, the switching between past and present tense is intentional. Sorry if that makes it a bit difficult to read at times.

21 Tropes: 10. Harry Potter AU + white w/Taeyong

Description: Eight years ago, in your Care of Magical Creatures class, you met Taeyong.

Word Count: 9.6k

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: umm, there’s a pistol mentioned at one point? but there’s no actual violence, near-drowning?

You first met Taeyong in your Care of Magical Creatures class in your third year at Hogwarts. Actually, that’s a little bit of a lie.

You first saw Taeyong on the train to school in your first year. You hadn’t known him at the time, but you saw him through the window of the sliding door into the compartment he was in, sitting alone. Your childhood friend and a Ravenclaw one year older than you, Moon Taeil, pulled you along, taking you to sit with him and some other kids you didn’t know. It wasn’t much of an impression, but you can still remember a lonely boy looking out the window, his head resting on his fist as the forests and hills passed in a blur outside. You were later sorted into Ravenclaw and he into Hufflepuff, so you didn’t see much of him that year anyways.

Your second year, you heard a lot about Taeyong. At the beginning of the year, he was known for excelling in Herbology, but that reputation quickly shifted. As Taeyong likes to call it, second year was his “mean year.” He was still talented with herbs, but nasty rumors spread about him cursing another student who hadn’t re-enrolled that year. People started looking at him differently. You admit that you were influenced by what you heard as well, but it later came out that the people who started the rumors about him did it because his mother is a muggle. But, when people treat you differently, it affects the way you act, too. Taeyong told you he wasn’t proud of the things he said that year. You know he can’t help showing a twinge of the loneliness he remembers feeling when he thinks about those memories. Second year was a cold year for Taeyong.

Third year was when you met Taeyong for the first time. Really met him.

On the first day of class, you were lectured by the professor of your Care of Magical Creatures class for not bringing your textbook to class. Your professor was a hawk-like man, tall and lanky with a crooked nose that looked almost like a beak and he was already terrifying enough on his own without him directly lecturing you. The thing was, he wasn’t what you were most afraid of. You were terrified of your textbook. It was a living, breathing book that could bite off your hand at any moment and you had no idea what to do about it. The best thing you could think to do at the time was lock it in the chest by your bed and pray it didn’t get out. Even with the straps on it secured, you refused to touch it once you got it into that drawer. Your Ravenclaw friends gave you weird looks, as you were usually one of the most studious out of them, and all you could do was wither in shame as your professor lectured you. You remember the incident as if it had just happened yesterday.

“The first day of class and you’re already slacking, Miss L/N? I expected better.” He’s ruthless in his berating and you try to shrink away, as if you could disappear into your robes.

“I…” How do you tell your professor that you’re afraid of the textbook? That’s a pathetic excuse. You know you shouldn’t be afraid of it. You know your professor and classmates would think you a fool if you told them the truth. Luckily enough, your professor doesn’t ask for an explanation, but, to your great misfortune, what he does demand is far worse.

“For your irresponsibility, you will be our first volunteer.” That makes you look up. The rest of the class shuffles on their feet, looking between you and the young dragon a bit deeper into the forest. It’s a small thing, the size of a large dog and probably barely out of infancy, and chained to the ground, but your body freezes when you see it. As if it can smell your fear- which it probably can, now that you think about it- it meets eyes with you, letting out a sort of low trilling sound. Its golden eyes seem to peer into your soul, rendering you motionless.

“I…” You whisper, eyes wide as you maintain eye contact with the beast, “...I can’t.”

“You can’t? You must. Unless,” he pauses, straightening up from where he had bent down slightly to talk down to you, “we have another volunteer?”

A hand shoots up. Whoever it is stands in the back, so you have a hard time seeing, but your classmates murmur as the volunteer weaves through the crowd, emerging at the front, hand still slightly raised. Your professor watches him with sharp eyes.

“Lee Taeyong. You want to take her place?”

You meet eyes with Taeyong for a moment before he looks at your professor. He’s a small, wiry sort of boy with a dark mop of hair that almost falls over his eyes. You might have thought his eyes were scary if it weren’t for the smile that lights them up. “Gladly.”

You don’t know Lee Taeyong. You’re bewildered by the fact that he just volunteered to take your place in an exercise involving a dragon. Does this boy have no fear of his life? Yet, you and the rest of your class watch as your professor orders him to remove the rest of the molting scales from the dragon and he steps forward and does it. The way he moves towards the dragon is almost a dance, with subtle, intricate steps and a little bow. When he reaches the dragon, he completes the task, coming back with a molted dragon scale in hand.

You listen to the way your professor praises Taeyong’s performance with awe before he dismisses the class. Before too long, the grove in the forest empties out and you’re left with just Taeyong. He’s watching the dragon, who is laying down to rest, but your eyes dart back and forth between the two. “How,” you say, careful not to be loud as not to disturb the scaly creature, “how did you do that?”

“Oh, I just read the book.” His own docile beastly textbook is tucked under his arm, barely moving besides the feelers on the edge, and he’s stroking it idly with his free hand. You notice in that moment that his book isn’t even strapped down. “I also practiced a bit during the summer. I had a lot of free time.”

“Thank you,” you say timidly, “for volunteering for me.”

“No problem,” he turns, the smile he gives you outshining the sun in that moment, “I was actually really looking forward to this class. I always wanted to meet a dragon.”

You’re a little mystified by the statement, but you push the feeling aside. “I’m sorry I never introduced myself. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Taeyong.” He extends his free hand to shake yours, but his eyes follow the way you watch his textbook stir slightly. “Are you afraid of it?”

“What?” You snap out of it, letting go of his hand and meeting his eyes.

“Are you afraid of the textbook? Because it’s… ya know. Alive.”

An embarrassed blush instantly lights your cheeks. “I’m… not…”

His lips part as he understands. “Ooh, you are! That’s why you didn’t bring it today!”

“I’m not afraid of it! I’m just afraid of… well… animals. And that’s...” You shift uncomfortably on your feet, not wanting to look at Taeyong anymore.

“They’re nice as long as you treat them right. The same goes for any other creature. Here,” he says, moving to hold the spine of his book out to you, “it’ll be friendly once you stroke its spine.”

You jump back and your heart beats a little faster when he tries to offer it to you. “No! The way it squirms is just… it’s so… unnatural. I can’t.”

Taeyong’s eyes furrow. “It’s not unnatural, at least not any more unnatural than you and me. You just have to be nice to it. I promise it won’t bite you. Come on.” He demonstrates, stroking a gentle hand down the book’s spine. It makes a quiet purring sound and seems to still even more. He keeps his hands extended to you.

“I can’t do it. Can we just go back? Please?”

“You won’t be able to pass this class if you can’t use your textbook, Y/N.” He says it with such dead seriousness that you freeze. That’s what finally gets you. He watches the expression on your face shift from fear to discomfort to mild panic before you finally shakily sigh.

“...fine.”

He instantly brightens up and has a gentle smile on his face as he extends the book to you. “I won’t let it hurt you. Just stroke its spine.” You slowly, very, very slowly, follow his command, edging forward until your extended hand makes contact with the furry spine of the book. Barely applying any pressure, you run your fingertips down the outside of the book. You’re stiff, but you start to relax a little when it doesn’t make any sudden movements after a moment. The book lets out another low purr at your touch and you slowly retract your hand. Taeyong takes the book back, beaming at you as he tucks it back under his arm. “See? Not so bad, right?”

“I guess not…”

“Let’s go back.” You nod and follow him, falling into step next to him. Dried brush crunches under your feet and sunlight dapples the forest trail as you walk next to him, the distant chirping of birds accompanying your footsteps. After a minute, he turns his head to look at you. “Are you afraid of all animals?”

You make a face, not wanting to admit it, but you figure that he’s only asking to confirm the suspicions he already has. “Yeah. Except Tora.” Taeyong tilts his head, prepared to ask the logical follow-up question, but you speak first. “Tora is my mom’s cat. We’ve had him since I was little, so he’s a member of the family. Mom made me take him to school with me.”

“Ah.” The little sound he makes is so uncharacteristic of the mean Taeyong you had heard whispers of last year that you’re a little confused. Then again, all of the traits he’s shown you in the last while don’t align with what you’ve been told about him. “Magical creatures aren’t mean, you know. You probably just don’t trust them immediately. Do you want my help?”

“Your help?” You frown. You’re almost back to the main school grounds, the forest floor giving way to well-kept grass. “When will I ever need to interact with magical creatures?” From there, you part ways with him, heading to your Divination class.

You sought him out a week later after that when you found yourself frozen in fear again at a phoenix during class.

It took a lot of exposure therapy and time away from studying for other subjects, but Taeyong worked with you. To this day, you’re not exactly friendly with magical creatures, but you can tolerate them and they can usually tolerate you.

At the same time, you learned a lot about your new friend. He was actually quite the soft-hearted boy, with a knack for herbs and animals, and you see hardly any trace of the unpleasant person you had heard about him being during your second year. He had a white owl named Snowball who helped him a lot in his lonely times. He had a Slytherin sister who graduated a few years previous. His father passed away, so he lives with his mother when he’s not at school. He had gentle hands, but he wasn’t afraid to get them dirty sometimes and he wasn’t quite as dedicated in studying as you, preferring to go explore the rest of the castle grounds. You were glad you met Lee Taeyong.

By the middle of third year, you were moving past your fear. You later found out that you couldn’t say the same for Taeyong. You really thought that boy was fearless for how he always volunteered during your Care of Magical Creatures class with even the most dangerous specimens. It wasn’t until the winter that you came face to face with the part of him that he was most afraid of.

Behind Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts is your second favorite class. It helps that your professor is a relatively kindly man, gentle to students and quick to protect them when the time comes. That’s why, even though the concept is scary, you’re not terribly worried about the boggart exercise today. When it’s your turn, an overly large and sharp-clawed lion appears from the closet and, after a moment of mild panic, all it takes is a flick of your wand and the word, “Riddikulus!” before the creature turns into a stuffed version of itself, all fear factor gone.

Then, Taeyong steps up. Though the two of you make a bit of an odd pair, your classmates had gotten used to you studying together and pairing up for activities. Some of your own Ravenclaw friends had befriended him as well, to your delight. But, when Taeyong steps up right after you, you don’t know what to expect. What could the fearless Taeyong that you had befriended have trapped inside?

The boggart morphs into a swirling grey mass of matter for a moment, as if it’s digging deep through his memories and fears, until, finally, it takes a very familiar shape. A quiet murmur goes through the class when, before Taeyong, is another version of himself. This one, instead of a wand, brandishes a pistol, and the look in its eyes is empty, a smear of blood covering its cheek. Its eyes turn towards Taeyong and he, wand stiff in his hand, stumbles back as it points the gun towards him. He falls, landing with his hands supporting his weight behind him.

“Taeyong-” You and the professor warn at the same time, and Taeyong seems to snap out of it, pointing his wand at the creature. The warding spell leaves his lips and a harmless flower pops out of the end of the pistol instead of a bullet as it pulls the trigger. The creature disappears a moment later as Taeyong backs away and another student takes his place, your professor encouraging the rest of the class to continue the activity. You offer him a hand and he takes it, standing and dusting off his robes.

Once the class is dismissed, you try to corner him, but he slips out the door, shouldering past the rest of your classmates. Your eyebrows furrow and you frown, trying to follow him. Despite your efforts, you lose him after a few moments. Luckily enough, you’ve been friends with him long enough that you think you know where he’s going.

You trudge through the snow on the way to the bridge and cross it, shivering as the wind cuts into your robes, before you see him enter the open-aired building where the owls stay just a few moments ahead of you. A minute later, you join him, plopping down on the cold stone floor next to him. Snowflakes dust his hair and robes, dotting it with white. His breath comes out in small clouds and he frowns when he sees you, but doesn’t move away.

“I wanted to be alone,” he huffs out, a larger cloud of foggy breath leaving him. He would never say that if he was feeling fine.

“You’re not okay.” He doesn’t deny it, so you know you’re right. “What happened?” He shakes his head, studying the floor. An owl hoots quietly above your heads. “Taeyong,” you say quietly, reaching for his hands. They’re cold in yours, so you lean down, blowing warm breath onto his fingers and then covering them with your own, trying to trap the heat in. “You’re helping me with what I’m most afraid of. Let me help you.”

He watches your hands for a moment, then his eyes shift up to look at the worried, earnest expression on your face. Finally, he sighs. “You’re right. I guess.” His cheeks are pink with the cold and because, unbeknownst to you, of the way your fingers wrap around his, trying to protect them from the biting winter air. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“That’s okay,” you say, smiling and looking at him with bright eyes, “I’m here for as long as you need.”

That day, in the company of winter winds and owls, Taeyong tells you about his mother, a superstitious woman who, once she found out about magic from his father, took to believing just about every washed up fortuneteller and magician she met. It only got worse once his father passed away and, one day, she took him to a so-called psychic. He hadn’t believed the woman at the time, but a nagging feeling in the back of his head kept him from ever completely disregarding the prophecy she spoke into existence that day. The psychic told him that he would become a killer, someone who takes lives in cold blood, with a glistening pistol in his hand and no fear of god in his soul.

“I know,” Taeyong rasps, swallowing hard, “I know she was just a con artist. That it wasn’t real magic. But, I just… I’m afraid that’s what I’ll become one day.” His confession hangs in the air for a moment, like he’s scared that he’s now speaking his fate into existence. You blink and the feeling is gone.

“Well,” you say, squeezing his hands tighter in yours, “I know for sure that she’s wrong.”

He seems confused, his head instantly snapping up so he can look you in the eyes. All he sees there is confidence and a sort of reassurance that he has been longing to feel for a long time. “You’ve only known me for like four months. How can you say that?”

“Because, you’re Taeyong. You’re the Taeyong who cares about plants and animals and came to the owl sanctuary because you felt bad. You’re the Taeyong who’s helping me get over my fear of animals just because you have that much faith in the good of the world. You’re the Taeyong who cries when you see a bird with a broken wing and tries to go exploring in the Forbidden Forest because you want to meet all the creatures living there. I might not have known you for a long time, but I know that much about you. I don’t think you ever have to worry about becoming that type of person.”

The strong belief you have in your eyes and the way you hold his hands has tears welling up in his eyes. With a smile, you pat his head with one hand, brushing some of the melting snowflakes out of his hair. After a short burst of silent tears on his part, you let go of his hands so he can wipe at his face. “Thanks, Y/N,” he sniffles.

“No problem. But, can we go back inside now? It’s really cold.” Once again, you’re pulling him to his feet. The two of you race back inside together, two figures cloaked in the black of your robes against the glistening white snow.

Thinking back on it, it’s a sweet memory. Perhaps you had feelings for him before you even knew it. It wasn’t long before Taeyong became your closest friend, and you his. It’s strange because, if you just saw him on the street one day, you probably would have been scared of him. But, knowing he’s a gentle Hufflepuff who’s more concerned about taking care of animals than anything else, you know not to be afraid. Even if his eyes and the serious set of his face does make him look a bit intimidating sometimes.

In the last week of your third year, you’re just studying for one of your upcoming exams when Taeyong speaks up from where he’s reading a textbook next to you.

“Y/N,” he says, breaking the silence of the library, “do you want to go on an adventure?”

You try to stay focused on your book, so you keep looking down, but you’re hardly reading the words on the page now that Taeyong is talking to you. “Tae, I’m studying.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. You’ve been studying all day and we have an hour until dinner.” He normally wouldn’t try to drag you away from your studies so easily, so you look up, tilting your head to prompt him to continue. “Johnny showed me the other day. It’ll be cool, so come on.”

“Johnny Seo? Gryffindor Johnny?” Hearing that the idea came from him, you’re a bit nervous, but, by this point, Taeyong is already standing up, tucking his textbook away, and grabbing onto your arm. You know by now that once he gets excited about something, there’s not much that will distract him from it, so you acquiesce, letting him tug you along.

By this time of year, spring is in full bloom, all the ice is gone from the lake, and it’s a breath of fresh air to be out of the stuffy library and into the courtyard. But, he’s not dragging you to the courtyard. He’s going further, crossing into the friendly side of the forest where your Care of Magical Creatures class is usually held. It’s another minute of wandering, him searching intently for something, before he finally finds what he’s looking for. He cracks a smile and lets go of your arm, approaching what you now realize is a massive, full-grown hippogriff. Your eyes widen in panic. From what you’ve read from your beastly textbook - who you had grown to come to terms with using - hippogriffs are extremely dangerous.

“Taeyong, be careful!” You yell, seeing him approach the creature. His grey and white feathers shine slightly in the spring sunlight and he doesn’t stand up from his resting position, his horse and eagle legs curled under him. He just watches as Taeyong bows and walks towards him. Taeyong extends his hand towards the creature and you pull out your wand, expecting the worst.

However, to your surprise, the creature butts his head into his hand, almost like he’s nuzzling him. “It’s okay,” he says, half-turning towards you and stroking him, “we’re friends.”

“This,” you say, exasperated, “this is what Johnny showed you?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong says, beaming while continuing to stroke the beast, “Johnny said the groundskeeper feeds him sometimes and his name is Greyhoof. Come closer, he’s friendly.”

You shake your head, making a slightly pained expression, before you put away your wand and approach slowly, giving in. The creature watches you do your ceremonial bow and he lowers his head towards you as well. Trying to keep your mild panic bottled up, you finally get close enough that you can extend your hand and run it over the feathers of the creature’s neck. He welcomes the touch, so you relax a bit, continuing to stroke him.

“See? Friendly.” Taeyong looks at you, the smile still glowing on his face. “Now that introductions are taken care of, let’s go.”

“Go?” Your relaxed state turns back to anxiety when your friend pats Greyhoof’s neck and he rises to his feet, causing you to jump back and retract your hand as he towers over both of you. Taeyong quickly and easily climbs onto his back, reaching out to you afterwards. You stare at his hand. “No way are you expecting me to-”

“I told you it’ll be fun. Trust me.”

All reluctance leaves you a minute later when you and Taeyong are soaring over the lake on the back of the hippogriff. Your hands are tight around his waist, the wind blows through your hair, and exhilaration fills you. High up, on the back of a hippogriff, there’s only you and Taeyong. Every person is small below you, a dot of color against the beautiful spring landscape.

By the end of your third year, Taeyong had taught you what it was like to fly.

For the first time, during the summer between your third and fourth year, you remember missing being at school. You still have all the letters you and Taeyong wrote back and forth to each other during every summer, but one letter stands out particularly in your memory. In July, right around his birthday, Taeyong had written that he wished he could have celebrated it with you and that he missed you. That “I miss you” written in his messy, boyish handwriting made your heart beat too fast and too hard to be normal. It’s then that you realized you had fallen in love with Lee Taeyong.

When you took the train back to Hogwarts on the way to start your fourth year, you were far more awkward than you like to admit. Taeyong told you years later that he felt like he did something wrong or that you didn’t like his hair - something else that had changed over the summer. Somewhere along the few months away from school, Taeyong had started to style his hair and your poor teenage heart could not handle how handsome he looked when you saw him for the first time going back to school.

Other than the fact that Taeyong made your heart to do cartwheels every time you saw him, which was practically every day, fourth year passed by with relative monotony. It was torturous in the fact, though you felt like you were going into cardiac arrest every time he was near, he never even looked at you differently. In all of your fourteen year old wisdom, you tried everything - changing your hairstyle, wearing your robes a bit differently, applying a bit of makeup. Your fellow Ravenclaws looked at you weirdly every time you came back from studying with a defeated look on your face. You even considered using your skill in potions to brew a love potion to make him fall for you back, but you quickly dismissed the idea. You could never have done that Taeyong.

With all that angst, you never told him. You left fourth year still very much infatuated with him and without confessing your own feelings.

Your fifth year, the Triwizard Tournament was held at Hogwarts. The summer was a good opportunity to settle down and prepare for the festivities to come, and you distinctly remember trying to keep Taeyong off of your mind for most of that time. You didn’t write him as much that summer - only sending the occasional letter - for fear of seeming obsessed and giving away your ever-growing feelings. However, as usual, you sat with Taeyong on the train ride to school. In that time, you remember that he was oddly silent. You feared that maybe he had figured you out and felt uncomfortable. Yet, after a week, things had normalized between the two of you again. Taeyong later told you in seventh year that he had thought you hated him because you didn’t write that often that summer and he had developed his own enormous crush on you.

An older Hufflepuff friend of yours and Taeyong’s, Lee Taemin, is chosen to represent your school in the tournament and you spend your time dragging Taeyong along to support him. Despite your senior being from the same house as him, Taeyong seems unenthused. You try to prod the answer out of him, ask why he isn’t excited about the tournament, but he doesn’t give, just tells you it’s nothing. The first event - a dragon trial - Taemin completes with ease, holding up his golden egg victoriously.

The clue tells him that the next trial will have to do with water. Between studying for your own classes, you try to help Taemin. Your strong suit has always been potions - you figure there has to be a potion out there that will help him breathe underwater and, if there isn’t, you could invent one. Taeyong is with Taemin and some of the other male Hufflepuffs when he opens the egg and hears the song that comes from it. When he comes back from it, he seems off, staring out the window when he would usually be busy studying alongside you. You try to ask him questions, but he just gives you vague answers, always looking out towards the lake, his textbooks unopened in front of him. With your building stress about helping Taemin, falling behind in your own school work, and, as you’ve been reminded by one of your professors who takes the steps of teaching your entire house how to dance properly, the impending Yule Ball and your lack of a date, the sight of Taeyong distracted so often makes you snap.

“If you have so much time to be spending looking out the window, the very least you could be doing is helping with Taemin’s trial.” The words come out far more bitterly than anything you’ve ever said to Taeyong. His normally relatively soft, carefree expression turns hard and he stands up.

“I guess I’ll go help, then,” he says, as if he can hardly move his lips at all, and stares at you with a sort of misty look in his eyes. You immediately regret snapping at him.

“Taeyong…” He’s already several paces away when you say his name, quickly disappearing from the library. With immense guilt weighing you down, you quickly pack up and trail after him, trying to see where he went. Towards the lake?

You’re at the end of the hallway leading outside when you see Taeyong, walking straight towards the dock. Confused and concerned, you follow him from a distance. He disappears into the line of trees that lies between the shore and the castle, so you hesitantly follow him. “Taeyong?” You call out to him, wondering if your voice will reach him. You’re barely emerging from the woods when you see Taeyong leaning towards the water. When he doesn’t stop leaning forward, perilously close to pitching over the edge, your heart flutters with worry. Something more has to be wrong, right? You start to run, feet pounding on dirt and rock and then the wood of the dock. “Taeyong!”

Your shout comes just as he falls into the water. You run faster, skidding to a halt by the edge of the pier. A few seconds pass. Then a few more. He doesn’t come up. Without a moment more hesitation than to strip off your heavier robes and shoes, you dive in.

The water is cold and you feel heavy, but you swim down, down, down, for what feels like far too long, until you see Taeyong. There, close to being wrapped in the shadows of the deeper part of the lake, is a mermaid. Her features are a distortion of a human’s, eyes too big and fish-like, skin too grey and scaly, hair made out of what looks more like the plants at the bottom of a lake than normal locks. She holds Taeyong’s face in her hands, singing a beautiful, haunting song that you know muddles your thoughts and is something an ordinary person shouldn’t be hearing. Taeyong floats in place, still, his eyes wide open, hair billowing around him. Your breath strains at your lungs, your heartbeat pounding in your eyes almost drowning out her singing, so you grab onto Taeyong, catching the mermaid’s attention. She screams at you, a horrifying sound that’s like someone dragging a metal fork against a piece of china, and lets go of your friend. You grab for your wand and lift it, casting a protection spell, before casting a spell of speed, launching you and Taeyong to the surface. You both land with wet thumps on the dock, coughing up the bit of water that had managed to enter your lungs. Taeyong heaves himself up onto his elbows, wheezing and gasping painfully as air fills his body once again. Your lungs burn like nothing you’ve ever felt before and the adrenaline rushing through your body eventually subsides, leaving you colder than before. Lying there for a few minutes, both of you work to catch your breaths, the autumn wind cooling your skin even further. Finally, Taeyong speaks.

“There’s merpeople down there,” Taeyong murmurs, half to himself.

“I could have told you that without you trying to drown yourself!” You cry out, tears starting to mix with the lake water covering your face. You try to wipe at your cheeks with your robe sleeves, but they’re soaked through, proving your efforts fruitless. “Why would you do that? What’s wrong with you?”

Taeyong looks confused at your pained expression. “I thought you wanted me to help Taemin?”

“I would rather you stay safe than hurt yourself trying to help him,” you weep, “I was so scared you were going to die.” It takes you a minute to calm your crying, but you eventually stop, sitting there and shivering with your arms wrapped around your legs. Taeyong watches you, a guilty expression on his face. Once you’re done crying, you remember the heavy robes you had stripped off before diving in and crawl over to them, grabbing them and moving closer to Taeyong so you can wrap them around the two of you once you both stand up on shaky legs. “Are you okay, Taeyong?”

“My head has felt weird since I heard the song in Taemin’s egg,” Taeyong mumbles, looking back at the water. “But I think I’m okay now. That mermaid must have enchanted me or something.”

You nod, leaning to pick up your shoes. “I’m sorry for what I said to you. I know it wasn’t right and I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“That’s okay. You still came to save me, after all.” The smile Taeyong gives you is almost enough to make you believe him. The smile falters as he apologizes. “I’m sorry I made you cry.”

“It’s better I’m crying that you’re alive than that you’re dead.” You huddle under your robe with him, tugging him along so you can get back inside and warm up. Taeyong takes your hand in his and you share the tiniest bit of warmth in that touch.

“Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?” Taeyong’s question nearly shocks the life out of you.

“Do you still have lake water in your brain?” You laugh, trying to follow if this is a joke. You really hope it isn’t.

He shakes his head, looking at you with slightly wide eyes. “No, I’m really asking you. Do you want to-” “Yes!” You rush out a bit too quickly, interrupting him. You shy away slightly, looking down at the ground in embarrassment. Your heart beats too fast in your chest and you feel like your body is finally warming up, even though your clothes are still soaked. Taeyong’s hand in yours is particularly warm. “...sorry. Yes, I’ll go to the Yule Ball with you.”

The way he looks at you, showing all his teeth, lips curled upwards, and his eyes scrunching together in happiness, almost makes you forget that the two of you had been practically drowning a few minutes ago.

In the few weeks leading up to the ball, you and Taeyong talk in hushed tones in the library about the occasion, wondering about who is going with who and what music there’ll be. Sometimes, you swear you even catch him looking at you when you’re studying and, before you can meet his eyes, he’s looking away, a slight pink on his cheeks. Once, you ask him about it, but he just avoids the topic, jittering out that it’s cold in there or something. Both of you know that the library never gets that cold.

The night itself comes and when your housemates ask who you’re going with and you only respond by smiling and blushing, they know who it is. You spend the time eagerly getting ready, adjusting your dress over and over again. When you had told your mother about your date to the ball, she had sent you a parcel via owl containing a pretty white pearl necklace, the color that reminds you most of Taeyong and matches your white and grey dress. You follow the other girls as they make their way out of your common room. You had promised Taeyong that you would wait for him on the stairs leading to the Great Hall, so you stand there, hands clasped together in front of you and bouncing on your heels excitedly. You watch as other people link up with their partners and enter the hall, as the champions all take their partners’ arms and walk in to the sound of trumpets and string instruments, as the entranceway empties out save for you.

It’s been an hour. Lee Taeyong has left you waiting for an hour. With each minute that had passed, your shoulders had slumped a little more and the bounce slowly left your body, replaced with the heavy feelings of loneliness and embarrassment. You know that it’s not like Taeyong to ditch you and he had seemed so excited, but…

It seems your crush is one-sided after all.

As you trudge back to your room, you rip the pins out of your hair one by one. How could he? Twenty, thirty minutes might be understandable, but a whole hour? You want to cry. You do cry. Your fellow Ravenclaws call you a crybaby sometimes and you know they’re right, but the indignance that you feel at being called that isn’t enough to overpower the growing pain in your heart. Hot, salty tears slide down your cheeks, surely smudging your makeup. You don’t want to use the lacey sleeves of your dress for fear of ruining the material, so you let the tears slip down your face quietly. At the base of the Ravenclaw Tower, there’s a little room with a balcony, open to the outside air. Despite the winter cold, you find yourself in that room, finally mopping at your tears with the heel of your hand, sitting on a bench and being miserable. The cold feels good against your warm face as you cry. They aren’t loud tears this time, just sniffling and rubbing at your face, but it’s enough to fill the silence. If you hold your breath and listen closely enough, you think you can almost hear the music of the ball drifting over from the other side of the castle.

Then, the door of the room is bursting open with Taeyong behind it. He almost looks more distraught than you do, his bowtie slightly askew on his fine tuxedo and his once-styled hair disheveled. He walks over to you quickly but carefully, standing a few feet away and breathing like he had just run across the entire castle to get here. “Y/N,” he says between heaving breaths, “I’m so sorry.”

You’re so shocked that he’s here that you don’t have the energy to be angry. “I didn’t… I didn’t think you were going to show…” You say, voice nearly a whisper.

“I’m so, so sorry. Taemin lost his cat but he had to be at the ball to do the opening dance and I promised I would find her and it took forever and I’m really, really sorry!” His words fly out of his mouth so fast you almost don’t understand them, staring up at him with wide eyes. He stops talking to take a few more breaths, trying to read your face for your reaction. All you can do is look at him, so he starts speaking again, much more slowly this time. “Do you… still want to go back to the ball?”

You shake your head, not breaking eye contact with him. “I just pulled out all the pins from my hair and I’ve cried half of my makeup off. I probably look like too much of a mess.”

“Here,” he still appears upset, but reaches up, mussing up his hair even more, “now we’re even.”

You can’t help sticking out your bottom lip in a small pout, still sniffling a bit as the ghost of a smile pulls at your lips. “That’s not fair. You’re still too handsome.”

His face drops into a look of surprise at the same time that you realize you had just called him handsome. “Ah, well,” he says, nudging at the ground with his foot, his eyes darting away from you, “you’re always too pretty.” Silence hangs heavy between the two of you as you try not to look at each other, both of you too embarrassed by the situation you’ve put yourselves into. “If you don’t want to go back to the dance,” Taeyong says, finally looking at you at the same time that you look at him, “do you want to dance here?”

He offers you his hand, appearing like a prince out of a fairytale. You take it, a smile finally reaching your face. “I would love to.”

When you take his hand, he helps you to your feet, his hand warm compared to yours, which had been cooled by the winter air. “Oh,” he breathes out, digging into a pocket on the inside of his tuxedo. He pulls out his wand and points it towards the ceiling, whispering a spell you’ve never heard before. A flash of light starts in the wood of his wand before quickly shooting into the air, filling the little room with tiny balls of light that hover near the ceiling and cast pale crystalline light on your faces. You had never entered the Great Hall, so you never saw the pretty decorations in there, but you know this is more than enough. He whispers another spell and the room fills with a soft waltz, an ethereal symphony that fills the space, bouncing off the cold stone walls and making the area feel that much warmer. Tucking away his wand, he places his hand on your waist and smiles. He counts off softly. “One, two, three.”

Your feet glide across the floor in rhythm with Taeyong’s, though he’s definitely better at this than you, and you feel like you’re in your very own world. The light of the hanging orbs fills Taeyong’s eyes and bounces off the material of your dress as it trails slightly with your every step. You can’t stop looking at him, to the point where you almost trip on your feet and mess up the steps of the dance. The cold no longer feels so cold at all.

Eventually, the lights start to dim and the music fades out, leaving you standing there, breathless in the best way, holding onto his hand and shoulder. You see him swallow heavily. A moment later, you’re stepping away from each other, hands floating awkwardly at your sides, unsure what to do with them when you’re not holding each other.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his honest apology displayed clearly on his face, “for making you cry again.”

“I’m sorry for freaking out and crying again.” As you stare at each other, the looks on your faces slowly morph until you’re smiling and giggling. You reach forward, taking his hand in yours and tugging him towards the balcony. “Come on, let’s look outside. It’s really pretty.”

When you reach the railing, you don’t let go of his hand, so he takes it as a sign to step closer to you. He moves closer until your arms are pressed together, some of his warmth transferring from his jacket through the thin lace of your sleeve and to your skin. You look out at the scenery, but you’re really not seeing anything because you can tell Taeyong is looking at you and that’s all you can pay attention to. He swings your interlaced hands back and forth gently and his breath clouds as he speaks. “I really like your dress. It reminds me of Greyhoof.”

The comment takes you so off guard that you let out a little noise of surprise before tilting your head back so you can laugh. “Really?”

He flushes at your reaction, but stills the swinging of your hands and presses his lips together tightly before turning to properly face you and continuing. “What I mean is that you look really nice. You always look really nice. I… I like you a lot.”

Your mouth dries up and butterflies erupt in your heart, sending pleasant shivers tingling through your body. You almost don’t remember to respond to him, too lost in the sensation that is really happening. You feel lighter than air, flying, but heavy and tied to the ground. His hand in yours is what keeps you grounded. You finally see his nervous expression and have the presence of mind to whisper it back. “Taeyong… I like you, too.”

Of all the ways you imagined this happening, it wouldn’t have been after you cried your eyes out when Taeyong seemingly ditched you before he created a miniature ballroom in a room at the base of the Ravenclaw Tower. Then again, as Taeyong quietly asks permission and you give it to him so he can lean down to kiss you, you figure that it makes just as much sense as any other part of your relationship.

Above you, the sky opens up and it begins to snow.

You spent the rest of fifth year balancing continuing to keep up with your studies and help Taemin with his trials. It was a little hard to complete a potion for breathing underwater when all Taeyong wanted to do was hold your hand or hug you from behind in the sweetest way, but you managed. You didn’t know until a few hours after the last test that Taemin won the Triwizard Cup because you were far too busy practicing kissing with Taeyong behind the bleachers to spectate. That summer, you spend a lot of time writing to him, trying to make up for all of the letters that you had missed in all of your moping the summer before. As per tradition, every one of his letters was delivered by his owl, Snowball, with frightening speed. Taeil, your friend and neighbor, joked about you falling for a Hufflepuff every time he witnessed Snowball nearly barrel head-first into the side of your house.

When reflecting on it, you call your sixth year your ‘honeymoon year.’ Though you didn’t spend any more time with Taeyong than you did before, a much greater amount of it was spent with his hand in yours as you studied.

In your Advanced Charms class, you and Taeyong make a point of not sitting close to each other. You know by now that you would distract each other too much and that people in your year are getting annoyed with your lovesickness. As he’s passing by you while leaving class one day, Taeyong subtly slips a note onto your desk, continuing his conversation with one of his Hufflepuff friends like nothing is happening. Sliding the note into your sleeve, you start to pack up your own things. Once you’re alone, you pull out the seemingly blank note. All it takes is a tap of your wand before the words, written in what you now know very clearly is Taeyong’s handwriting, reveal themselves.

‘Meet me on the bridge at 1 -Tyong’

You smile to yourself. Upon his own insistence, you had started calling him that. He’s already waiting there for you, leaning on the railing of the bridge and gazing out at the water, when you walk over. Over the summer, he had dyed his hair a brilliant white and, though the roots are showing a bit now, you can’t help but think the color suits him well. Your footsteps alert him to your presence and he greets you with a peck on the lips. “Hi.”

“Hi, Taeyong. Why’d you call me here?”

“Because I missed you.” Those four words melt your heart and make you feel warm in the best way. He continues. “Do you want to go on a Hogsmeade date this weekend?”

“I was going to study, but I suppose I can spare Saturday for you.” You try to act a little coy, but he just uses that infectious grin of his on you and you can’t help smiling back.

“Oh! Also,” he reaches back, digging in the pocket of his robes for a moment. He pulls out a white flower a moment later, twirling it by the stem in his fingers. “I grew this in Herbology today. Professor said we only needed the root of the plant and that I could take the flower if I wanted, so…” He leans forward, fixing the flower in your hair.

“Thank you, Taeyong. It’s really pretty.” You don’t stop looking at him as you say it, the happiness on your face reflected on his.

Sixth year was a good year.

Seventh year, the closest in time to you now, and the most trying of all of them, weighs heavily on your mind still. You wish you had done something differently. Something that would have kept your paths from diverging.

“You’re going to Seoul?”

Plans after graduation is a topic that you and Taeyong tend to avoid. Of course, it’s inevitable that you can’t dodge it forever, no matter how much you want to. Now, you’re nearly heartbroken when Taeyong tells you his plans.

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for a while and… I want to reconnect with my dad’s family back there. Plus, the wildlife there is so different from what’s here! There’s a whole other world to explore over there.” The excitement is so clear on his face that it breaks your heart even more. That look falters when he sees the expression you wear. His next question is gently prodding, timid. “Y/N? What are you going to do?”

“I… I was planning on staying here. Working under the Ministry to become a proper Potions Master.” He studies your expression, eyes becoming more weighed down by sadness as the seconds tick by.

“Oh.”

You both know each other well enough by now to know how the other is feeling. Well enough to know that neither of you will change. Well enough to know where this is leading.

You hang on to the few threads of hope and happiness you have left until the winter. Those fall months, the grip he has on your hand starts to tighten, but somehow become looser at the same time. In the snow, on the bridge to the owl sanctuary, you and Taeyong agree to end it.

The few remaining months of school after that passed emptily. You did well on your exams, as expected of a Ravenclaw, and you didn’t see much of him. You tried not to keep eye contact with him whenever you did pass each other in common areas, but you know his eyes always followed you for far longer. It almost hurt more to not look.

Even when it’s one year, two years past graduation, you have a hard time not thinking about it. Snow, owls, herbs, all remind you of him. You keep telling yourself that you shouldn’t be so hung up on a teen crush, but you know that he was more than that. More than anything, Lee Taeyong was the most incredible person you had ever met. And you lost him. No - you let him go.

In those two years, you spent countless hours in your lab, mixing old potions and creating new ones for the Ministry of Magic, even trying on multiple occasions to brew a potion that could cure heartache but always failing, staying long hours into the night because you know that when you go home, it’s more than likely that Taeyong will cross your mind. But, all things fade.

Finally, after three years of not seeing him, Taeyong no longer occupies a lot of space in your mind. As one of the youngest of the Potions Masters, you spend almost as much time traveling on errands to retrieve items from around the world as you do brewing your own concoctions. That’s how you ended up here, in Seoul, four years later, tasked with finding a rare herb that is only grown in South Korea. You push open the door to the shop you were told about, a bell hanging on the handle jingling softly as you enter, letting the cold winter wind in. The shop is warm, tucked in a corner next to an alleyway, and smelling of all sorts of fragrant herbs. Different materials rest in jars lining the walls, arranged by what you think is color. By color? Who would organize by color and not by name or usage?

“Hello?” You call out, finding the shop empty save for a few small creatures running around, including a small grey tiger-striped cat. With a small smile, you reach down to stroke the animal, which arches into your hand when you stroke it. “You’re so pretty,” you say quietly to the cat, continuing to pet it, “you remind me of my friend Tora.”

“Coming!” There’s a small clattering noise from the entryway behind the counter of the shop before a face you know well pops out from behind the doorway, his hair a chestnut brown that you’ve never seen on him before.

And, finally, he’s in front of you again.

He blinks. “Y/N?”

“Taeyong?” You know it’s him - he couldn’t possibly be anyone else - but it’s hard to believe your eyes. In a city of millions of people, you run into the one person in the world you would know here.

If it’s possible, he’s even more handsome than the last time you had seen him, but so much of him is very much the same. He still has that little scar by his eye from when something had gone wrong in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class in fourth year, he’s still thin enough that you want to check if he’s been eating properly, he still has that soft voice that is so, so sweet and familiar when he says your name. Suddenly, all the time you had spent trying to get over him is gone and you’re back in your seventh year again, staring at Taeyong and feeling your heart beat faster and heavier in your chest.

“Why are you here? Not- not that I’m unhappy to see you! It’s really nice to see you.” With those words, your heart tells you that he never really forgot about you, either.

“I’m here to get an ingredient. I work for the Ministry now. Potions.” You feel like you can barely move your lips to answer his questions.

“Oh. Like you always wanted.” He smiles, a thin smile like he’s holding back. You wish he wouldn’t hold back. Not again.

You try to pull yourself together enough to tell him what you want, watching as he walks alongside the shelves until he locates what he’s looking for. You smile a little when you realize that organizing potion materials by color is a very, very Taeyong thing to do. As you’re standing there, patiently waiting, the cat you had greeted earlier rubs against your legs, purring quietly, so you reach down to stroke it. “How have you been, Taeyong?”

“Mm? Good. I’ve been running my uncle’s shop. On the weekends, I do a magical creatures class for kids who are magically inclined. There’s not too many wizards willing to teach that kind of stuff here.” He chats as he locates the correct jar and pulls out the right amount of the material you need. He turns to you. “Is… is this all you need?”

You nod. “Yeah. That’s all.” That’s not really all. You want to stay longer, find out how he’s really been, what he named this cat, how the kids he teaches are, if he still thinks about you.

As he rings you up, handing you your change, he pauses, the bills in his hands. His eyes lift to meet yours. “Do you want to stay for coffee or something? We can catch up. If you want.”

“I would love that.”

In the few hours you spend with Taeyong, sipping at coffee that disappears from your cups slowly, staying long enough so that he has to go make more, the space of the years between you disappears. It feels good to talk with Taeyong again. It feels good to know Taeyong again. Regrettably, the sun dips behind the horizon and you look out the window of the shop, seeing the orange sunset reflect onto the shining silver and black buildings before the daylight disappears completely, replaced by the streetlights that blink on one at a time. As the light outside of the shop flickers on, Taeyong speaks up.

“You could stay with me. We could always use more Potions Masters in Seoul.”

“Taeyong-”

“Please.”

Taeyong has always had too much of a habit of shocking you with his words and now is no different. When he says that, you know that he feels the same way that you do. He’s always felt the same way that you do. Somehow, destiny brought you back together again. It would be insane, but-

You set your coffee cup down. You can tell from his expression that he’s expecting a rejection, even with his pleading. But, by now, you think you’re done running from him.

“Do you think the Ministry takes two weeks notices?”

#taeyong fluff #taeyong angst #nct fluff #nct angst #neowritingsnet #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #this turned out to be another loooong one #not as long as my last but still #i hope you enjoy my attempt #superm fluff #superm angst

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thepartyresponsible · 5 years

Note

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

listen, i’m glad you asked, and i hope you’re volunteering. i’ve got a whole list.

fics i want someone else to write:

harry potter/mcu crossover in which the avengers were a resistance group similar to the order during the second war. except better, and with a higher body count. after the war, clint gets hired as the new muggle studies professor and bucky (who’s been oblivated to hell and back and doesn’t remember their wartime romance) is the new defense against the dark arts professor. pining! magically-induced amnesia! clint’s animagus is a hawk! someone write this immediately!

dc/marvel crossover focused on the five years post-snap where clint barton, frank castle, and jason todd murder their way through the world until they feel better about everyone they lost.

dc/marvel crossover that chronicles the many times jason todd and tony stark encountered each other at galas and banquets. bonus points if, during tony’s early twenties, jason took him on a tour of all the terrible bars in gotham and got into at least four fist fights defending his honor. or wallet. or both! whatever.

fics i want someone else to finish:

listen. okay. just listen. i know i’ve kinda carved out a niche for myself that consists of strange au’s and crossovers, but this one’s a doozy. here we go.

mcu/baby driver crossover in which tony stark recruits baby from prison to be peter parker’s driver.

no, stay with me.

wanda’s dead in this one, but pietro survived and is currently living in may parker’s building, making a sad, drunken menace of himself.

baby and pietro are two orphans who 1) like to go real fast and 2) need to redeem themselves after being lured into destructive, toxic, criminal work. and so really this is a fic about the two of them teaming up to careen through new york at horrifying speeds, save peter parker multiple times, eat lots of snacks, and fall in love.

i have 4788 words. you just need to write the rest.

ask from here.

#asks

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bandarai · 5 years

Photo

‘Foden’

Foden is a young Harris Hawk.

He is the brother of one of my Harris Hawks (Clayton) and was trained by a friend of mine who volunteers at the bird of prey centre I work at.

Recently, my friend gave me some wonderful gifts. No reason, just because he could. I figured this kindness should be repaid, so I did this picure of his beloved boy for him! :D

---------------------------------------------------------------- Pencil, Pastels, Metallic Ink, and white Gel Pen on A4 Paper.

#my art #foden #harris hawk #hawk #hawks #bird #birds #bird of prey #animal #animals #traditional media #traditional art

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jbaiata · 5 years

Text

The making of “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace”

Stephen Hawking once famously observed that even those who believe everything in life is predestined look both ways before crossing the street. And while I don’t believe the arc of our lives is entirely predetermined, I do think it is contingent on us to be open enough to recognize seemingly chance encounters for what they are: opportunities. Or, as Jackson Browne more eloquently puts it: “Pay attention to the open sky/you never know what will be coming down.”

In April of 2016 I was presented with an amazing opportunity: to give voice to a story that was just begging to be told. Each year I volunteer for a fundraiser in Ridgewood, NJ - Saylestock, to benefit The Matt Sayles Foundation for Salivary Gland Cancer. It’s an inspiring day - an all day music and arts festival that inevitably creates some magic moments for organizers and attendees alike. Toward the end of the day I was approached by a town resident and asked about the origins of the fundraiser. I told her how Dave and Kathy Sayles had turned the most convulsive, painful event of their lives - the death of their young son to a rare cancer - into an urgent, vital cause. That resident, Lisa Paterson, could unfortunately relate. We fell into an hour long conversation, and Lisa bared her soul to someone who had been a complete stranger to her moments before.

Widowed on 9/11 when her husband Steven was among those murdered by the terrorists, Lisa was left to raise her twin four year-old’s, Lucy and Wyatt, alone. And to work through her own searing grief while trying to ensure her children did not become collateral damage to the worst terrorist attack in our country’s history. She endured a Sisyphean, near decade-long struggle to get Wyatt, who is developmentally disabled, to accept that his father was gone. I was incredibly moved, and determined that the story needed to reach a much wider audience.

While driving down to Philadelphia the next morning, I was fixated on two things. The first was the conversation with Lisa, and replaying in my mind something she had recounted about Wyatt’s finally turning the corner. She’d found a working farm the then teenaged Wyatt had really taken to, and when asked why he liked it so much, he’d replied “Daddy’s in the sky there.” The second was how much I’d thoroughly enjoyed one band in particular - a self-described “funk, soul, jazz and rock fusion” outfit that I wanted to see again. What the hell was their name? I had thrown one of the Saylestock handout brochures into my work bag, and quickly pulled it out. Ho-lee shit. “SkyDaddy.” The name of the freaking band was SkyDaddy!

Photo: Lisa Paterson (second from left) poses with the band SkyDaddy and a friend. Credit: John Baiata

In that moment, chance encounter begat providence. Lisa and I began a long series of spoken and written conversations that, half a year later, culminated in this story, and a second on “NBC Nightly News.” Lisa was a completely open book, confiding her private pain and doubts, and granting me access to those who knew her best. She invited me out to Wyatt’s farm to spend the day there. I interviewed Wyatt’s longtime doctor. I interviewed Lisa’s therapist. But it was a conversation with Lisa’s exceptional daughter, Lucy, that would eventually birth “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace.”

Lisa had shared with me the extraordinary, lifelong bond Lucy and Wyatt had developed, and even credited Wyatt with saving Lucy’s life as an infant. Lucy was failing to thrive, in trouble, and nothing the doctors had tried was working. It was only after Wyatt was laid beside his sister in the NICU that Lucy began to respond. Still, speaking at length with Lucy directly was revelatory. I came away with a much clearer understanding of the “two unique souls united by birth” dynamic associated with twins in general, with an even deeper appreciation of the lifelong, unbreakable bond Lucy and Wyatt has forged - and with the inspiration for a song.

Photo: An infant and endangered Lucy Paterson . Credit: Paterson family.

I’ve been writing song lyrics since I was a teenager. To see the vast majority of them is to understand just how difficult good songwriting is. In each case, I set out to write about a specific subject. I wrote the lyrics. This will inevitably sound cliche` but I can think of no other way to describe it: for the first time, with “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace,” the lyrics wrote me. They started coming to me in the days after that phone interview with Lucy, and kept up a steady patter in my brain until I finally reached for a notebook beside my bed, and began to capture the voices in my head.

Wyatt and Lucy became Charlie and Grace. I cribbed Charlie’s name from Charlie Greene, an outstanding young man who had also lost his father in the 9/11 attacks. I’d gotten the chance to work with Charlie in the summer of 2011, and had recently introduced him to Lucy. I cribbed Grace’s name from John Newton, the poet and clergyman who wrote “Amazing Grace” a hundred and forty years ago. In all, the lyrics contain references to fifteen other songs, and eight bible verses. (If you’d like to see how many you recognize or are just a glutton for punishment, they are all annotated at the end of this blog.) Once finished, I had a thought I’d never conjured before about lyrics I’d written: “These don’t suck.”

I shared the lyrics initially only with Lisa, a fellow music nut like me, and with my wife Anna. Encouraged by their enthusiastic responses, I made my best decision yet, and shared them with my cousin Flynn - along with the story I’d written about Lisa, Lucy and Wyatt for context.

Photo: Wyatt and Lucy Paterson today. Credit: Paterson family.

My wife Anna has long pondered how to leverage all the music trivia in my brain for financial gain, and I consider myself pretty knowledgeable about music in general. But Flynn (That’s his full, legal name) is an actual musician, and someone whom I’ve always looked up to. Music has long been the common thread between us. As teenagers I was enthralled listening to his takes on local rock heroes the Stray Cats, and many others. As adults he would often invite me on Friday nights to come sing and play a little percussion with a small group of his musician friends. Nothing serious - “basement band” stuff. But it meant a lot that a group of musicians whose talent level far exceeded my own would include me. Since moving to southern Florida, Flynn has played extensively and cultivated an impressive network of musician friends in the area. He plays guitar beautifully, writes and records, and has notebooks filled with original lyrics of his own. And so when he got back to me, I was not quite prepared for his reaction.

It was beyond encouraging. He was effusive in his praise, and inspired by the story behind the lyrics. Flynn became the driving force behind the project. It took more than two years to bring to fruition, and in all that time his north star for it was clear-eyed. He wanted to give the lyrics a musical home to be proud of, for sure, but more than anything he was driven by his heart, and by doing something special for the Paterson family. Without his recruiting and wrangling of musical contributors, his booking of studio times and overseeing sessions, the steady stream of ideas and feedback he ran by me, this song would not exist. I am grateful beyond words.

In February of 2018 Flynn and I went into Rain Cat Recordings in Jensen Beach, Florida to lay down the first and most important building block of the song, a gorgeous guitar track that he had written to accompany the lyrics. We had home field advantage. The wizards behind Rain Cat, Jeff Coulter and Bryan Lamar, were well acquainted with Flynn. Having been briefed on the project’s origins in advance, they were happy to get involved.

Photo: Flynn working the guitar track at Rain Cat Recordings

Flynn had recorded a scratch vocal track that day as well, but it was a placeholder until we could identify a vocalist. He offered up a wide array of vocalists he knew and could approach - men and women. I felt strongly that it should be a woman, as the chorus is sung from Grace’s first person point of view. In the end we decided to try and recruit Summer Gill for the project. I confided in Flynn that I’d kept a running list in my head for years of my own “heavenly choir,” the voices I would choose to sing me home when my time came: Mavis Staples, Emmy Lou Harris, Aretha Franklin, Linda Ronstadt and Alicia Keys. Summer’s voice moved me in the same way those others did, wringing emotion from every verse. I had my doubts that we could get her onboard. She was gigging constantly in support of her latest EP, working on songs for her next one, and our little song seemed a trifle by comparison. And so we were both thrilled when Flynn reported back that she’d readily agreed to work with us - and all the more so upon hearing her evocative vocal.

Photo: Summer Gill during one of our sessions at Rain Cat Recordings

Along the way there were plenty of setbacks. While at Rain Cat with Summer during the first session to record the vocal track, Flynn got word that his Mom had passed. Another session was scuttled last minute after Summer was involved in a car accident. Some musicians proved more difficult to schedule than others, and a good chunk of time was lost trying to schedule one in particular.

That disappointment was more than made up for by the contributions of Adam Emanuel, a multi-talented musician who, in Flynn’s words, was “all in from the beginning.” From Adam we got a vital piano track; one he tinkered with and improved over several sessions. Adam also gave life to Flynn’s vision for a “sweetener” track. After considering a couple of other paths - a pedal steel guitar? Nah. Flute? Nope - Adam came up with the synth strings that really enhanced the song’s emotional resonance.

Photo: Adam Emanuel laying down the piano track at Rain Cat Recordings

And then there’s the guys behind Rain Cat, Jeff and Bryan. It’s no given that artists who are really good at making music are experts at mixing it, and these guys are both. They also support their artists out in the community, and have developed a fiercely loyal client base because of it. It’s got to be all kinds of cool to be in the business of bringing others’ musical visions to life. Serious respect for these guys.

Photo: Jeff Coulter and Bryan Lamar. Courtesy: Rain Cat Recordings

Throughout the process, Flynn and I engaged in a grand jury level of secrecy, so as not to spoil the eventual reveal to Lisa and Wyatt. Lucy, however, was conscripted as a necessary co-conspirator. Her first reaction to the lyrics she helped inspire was moving and heartfelt:

“I had to take a step back from the computer in order to compose myself... Thank you so very much for depicting my family’s story, specifically mine, in such a poetic and gorgeously bittersweet way.”

Her words also further incentivized us to finish. Lucy was responsible for gathering the bulk of the family photos that helped imbue the lyrics video with the personalized look her family’s remarkable story deserves. Finally, a big shout out to my daughter Alexa for her time and help editing the video.

The song is available on Apple Music, Google Play & Youtube Music, Amazon, Pandora, Tidal, Napster, iHeart Radio, etc Any proceeds from the song are going to help support Wyatt’s farm. You can also make a direct donation.

Thanks for reading this far, but I am reminded that where words fail, music speaks. I hope “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace” speaks to you. Click here for a listen.

“The Ballad of Charlie and Grace”

One mother, two cords, one shared space

Brother and sister, Charlie and Grace

Grace soon fell ill, her parents dismayed

But grew strong once Charlie’s sweet head was laid

Beside her own on the pillowcase

The first time he started

amazing Grace

“The boy’s not right,” they said. “His mind’s addled.”

Grace took up armor, prepared for battle

Be not afraid, her flag unfurled

Then had a thought that could change the world

In Charlie, redemption she could see and taste

And he’d only begun

amazing Grace

(spoken) And she sang:

He showed me the roll in the hills, a bird on the wing

A little bit of beauty in everything

The life in the day, the call in the breeze

Lucy in the sky, the magic in believe

Far too young when their daddy was taken

Charlie sat and wailed, “Why have you forsaken me?”

Grace took up his battle cry

While Charlie paid attention to the open sky

And blessings from space

And he carried on

amazing Grace

Charlie grew up to work the land

Planting seed written in the palm of his hands

And Charlie taught Grace to sow some seeds of her own

How some will grow, some you just call a loan

To tend to your gardens where the land is laid waste

And he never failed at

amazing Grace

He showed me the roll in the hills, a bird on the wing

A little bit of beauty in everything

The spirit in the sky, sorrow in the fountain

Smoke on the water, and fire on the mountain

Charlie grew frail, his head a crown of splendor

Grace held firm; a loss she thought might end her

But Charlie’s voice rose in song she could believe

How sweet the sound, her fears relieved

And even as the light fell from his face

He never once stopped

amazing Grace

He just might have saved her from going under

Charlie boy, the boy wonder

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.

Source material/references for “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace”:

“Amazing Grace,” John Newton

“For a Dancer,” Jackson Browne

“Fountain of Sorrow,” Jackson Browne

“Call it a Loan,” Jackson Browne

“Grace,” U2

“Fire on the Mountain,” The Grateful Dead

“Spirit in the Sky,” Norman Greenbaum

“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” The Beatles

“A Day in the Life,” The Beatles

“Call Me the Breeze,” Lynard Skynard

“Do You Believe in Magic?” The Lovin’ Spoonful

“A Man Who Was Gonna Die Young,” Eric Church

“Me and Charlie Talking,” Miranda Lambert

“Away in a Manger” Charles Gabriel

Psalm 40/U2’s “40” “He set my feet upon a rock, and held my footsteps firm.”

Isaiah 41:10 “Fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will hold you with my righteous right hand.”

Matthew 27:46 “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Ephesians 6:13 “Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm.”

Proverbs 16:31 Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained in the way of righteousness

Isaiah 49:16 ”See, I have written your name in the palm of my hands.”

Psalm 34:8 “Taste and see the Lord is good, blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.

Ezekial 36:35 “They will say ‘This land that was laid waste has become like the garden of Eden; the cities that were lying in ruins, desolate and destroyed, are now fortified and inhabited.”

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