#before i'd only ever heard the version they used in dear white people

[sunflowermp4]

just discovered a new version of one of literally my top 5 favorite songs of all time. depressive episode canceled

[razorsadness]

Jessie Lynn McMains, from Reckless Chants #25: dear you (August 2019)

[text version under cut]

dear xxx—

David Berman is dead & I'm fucking sad. sad about Toni Morrison too of course but I already said my piece on that & anyway she was 88. David was only 52. not much older than my partner. & god damn it when you've lived a life like mine the words of white sadboy poet/singer-songwriters mean just as much to you as (if not in some ways more than) the greatest writers of our time, of any race or gender. cuz I grew up on that indie-punk shit. cuz I'm a sad whiteboy sometimes, too. cuz Toni Morrison was a great novelist but Silver Jews lyrics had more of an influence on my own writing.

like "We Are Real," where D.B. wrote:

Repair is the dream of the broken thing Like a message broadcast on an overpass All my favorite singers couldn't sing

like "Tennessee," when he sang:

Punk rock died when the first kid said "Punk's not dead, punk's not dead"

like how I cry harder when my punk/music icons die than I can imagine crying for almost any established writer. Lorna Doom died the day before Mary Oliver died, then the next day Debi Martini died & I was more brokenhearted about Lorna & Debi than Mary. cuz Mary was 83 & Lorna & Debi were younger. cuz it felt like I should tattoo Punk Is Dead on my forehead & slamdance on its grave. cuz Mary Oliver's poetry meant a lot to me but it didn't explode my fucking world like the Germs LP did. I don't know how to explain this. If you know, you know. David Berman died & I'm devastated.

I was devastated in December, when Pete Shelley died, & I'm still not over it if I think about it too much. I was in my car, on the way to pick my oldest kid up from school, & the DJ's voice on my favorite radio station broke thru my afternoon motion-induced reverie. breaking news; that's never good. Pete Shelley has died from a heart attack, he said, & played "Ever Fallen in Love." & I cried, of course I did. it hurt to lose one of punk's great songwriters, one of punk's great frontmen, who took his stage name from a Romantic poet & wrote songs that showed me it was okay to be myself, that there were other people out there like me. showed me it was okay to be a hypersexual bisexual, an "Orgasm Addict;" that I could be a punk & also be a hopelessly romantic lovesick dork. & it hurt to lose him because his kindness meant a lot to me when I was young—yeah, I knew Pete; we weren't close friends but we'd met, & he was sweet & funny & irreverent. I cried for him & I cried for the kid I was when I met him, the kid I was back when I first heard the Buzzcocks—back when I was a teenage misfit always falling in love with people I shouldn't have.

but the day after Pete died was Tom Waits' birthday, & I used it as an excuse to partake in some nostalgic pleasures; to be my old self if only for an hour or two. or as much my old self as I can still be. I went to the Douglas Avenue Diner for lunch, with my youngest kiddo as my date. I thought of xxx. I always miss her most in November & December. & diners make me think of her, & Tom Waits makes me think of her, & the death of old punks makes me think of her. everything reminds me of her. I thought of Hearts Don't Break, the novella I wrote in '02/'03, which was heavily based on our friendship; thought of my description of 'the coffee-stained comfort of our favorite diner.' different diner, different city, different year, but it was comforting to be there. they were playing Xmas carols & the patrons were an equal mix of punks & old folks. Greek-American-owned diners like Douglas Ave. make me the most nostalgic, as those are the diners I grew up going to—there are so many of them in the Midwest. I thought of the Alps East in Chicago, the diner I haunted as a broke college student; how I'd go there & order a cup of soup & a bottomless coffee & sit for hours eavesdropping on other patrons, getting ideas for short stories. I thought of the diners in Kenosha, going to them with xxxxx back when we were dating, sharing an order of spanikopita & a side of rice pilaf. after I left the diner that day, I mailed out a bunch of zines & chapbooks & that, too, was the same as it ever was.

& now another hero is dead & I'm finishing the first full issue of my zine in over two years, thinking about who I was back when I listened to the Silver Jews a lot. that terrible summer of '03, summer of nervous breakdowns & strep throat, too much rum & whiskey, & my lovers all dropping me. summer of pirates & pills; photocopied midnights. now it's the summer of '19 & I'm here writing & thinking of everything that's gone. favorite places, people, zines, scenes. I miss everything all the time. same as it ever was.

[couragehopelovefaith]

The ranking of every Taylor Swift-song I've heard

tolerate it

Dear Reader

Castles Crumbling

Chloe Or Sam Or Sophia Or Marcus

You're Losing Me

Nothing New

This Love

mirrorball

Tell Me Why

happiness

So Long, London

You All Over Me

it's time to go

Change

champagne problems

my tears ricochet

The Archer

Never Grow Up

The Great War

epiphany

Come In With The Rain

State Of Grace

hoax

Forever Winter

Ronan

Should've Said No

this is me trying

Safe & Sound

Foolish One

New Year's Day

peace

coney island

The Story Of Us

Clara Bow

Haunted

Tied Together With A Smile

Back To December

cowboy like me

A Place In This World

Breathe

Renegade

Better Man

Cruel Summer

I Hate It Here

Bigger Than The Whole Sky

The Last Time

I Did Something Bad

If This Was A Movie

You Are In Love

exile

We Were Happy

Death By A Thousand Cuts

Would've, Could've, Should've

Untouchable

Wonderland

Innocent

evermore

Afterglow

Dear John

Paper Rings

Forever & Always (piano)

Now That We Don't Talk

Don't Blame Me

The Way I Loved You

White Horse

the lakes

Eyes Open

cardigan

You're Not Sorry

You're On Your Own, Kid

"Slut!"

Cassandra

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Holy Ground

the 1

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Wildest Dreams

Sad Beautiful Tragic

Enchanted

All Too Well (10 min version)

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

All You Had To Do Was Stay

Fifteen

Is It Over Now?

Peter

Long Live

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

Clean

The Other Side Of The Door

Sparks Fly

loml

State Of Grace (acoustic)

Cold As You

I Bet You Think About Me

Crazier

Girl At Home

I'd Lie

The Albatross

marjorie

mad woman

Run

I Knew You Were Trouble

The Tortured Poets Department

It's Nice To Have A Friend

Stay Beautiful

The Manuscript

I'm Only Me When I'm With You

The Prophecy

Midnight Rain

I Look In People's Windows

Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince

ivy

Carolina

Better Than Revenge

illicit affairs

That's When

I Forgot That You Existed

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

 Dorothea

Fresh Out The Slammer

Babe

Fortnight

 Come Back... Be Here

Snow On The Beach (both versions)

Superstar

Soon You'll Get Better

The Moment I Knew

All Of The Girls You've Loved Before

How Did It End?

willow

Picture To Burn

ThanK you aIMee

 Sweet Nothing

Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me?

Treacherous

A Perfectly Good Heart

Robin

august

vigilante shit

All Too Well

Daylight

 The Lucky One

Begin Again

 Jump Then Fall

I Can See You

Bejeweled

Love Story

 Call It What You Want

Say Don't Go

long story short

Message In A Bottle

But Daddy I Love Him

 High Infidelity

no body, no crime

Labyrinth

the last great american dynasty

Shake it Off

Lavender Haze

right where you left me

 closure

Stay Stay Stay

Tim McGraw

Anti-Hero

'tis the damn season

Our Song

The Black Dog

 Forever & Always

Bad Blood

Look What You Made Me Do

 Cornelia Street

Today Was A Fairytale

 We Are Never Getting Back Together

Teardrops On My Guitar

I Think He Knows

So It Goes...

 You Need To Calm Down

 Florida!!!

 Mine

Everything Has Changed

Mean

Fearless

 Speak Now

I Know Places

Mary's Song (Oh My My My)

Last Kiss

Bad Blood (remix)

 Starlight

The Very First Night

 Timeless

 When Emma Falls In Love

New Romantics

ME!

Bye Bye Baby

 Out Of The Woods

Getaway Car

 My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

...Ready For It?

End Game

Hey Stephen

 Style

 Red

Lover

The Bolter

The Best Day

 Guilty As Sin?

 I Almost Do

Gorgeous

 Don't You

Karma

 You Belong With Me

Hits Different

 22

 Mastermind

Suburban Legends

Blank Space

 Superman

Karma (remix)

False God

invisible string

Paris

The Man

 The Outside

So High School

I Wish You Would

imgonnagetyouback

betty

 Question...?

gold rush

Down Bad

How You Get The Girl

Invisible

The Alchemy

King Of My Heart

 London Boy

Hopefully I remembered everything..

[toscrollperchancetomeme]

Lestat de Lioncourt - A playlist

So, guess who made a Lestat Playlist (like there aren't enough already) and decided to sit down for 4-6 hours to find some excerpt corresponding with each song? Featuring 80s and 90s music (clearly showing my age...) as well as many european songs and showtunes. Enjoy!

1. Cathedrals – Ramin Karimloo (Original by Jump, Little Children)

In the cathedrals of New York and Rome There is a feeling that you should just go home And spend the lifetime finding out just where that is

And that was not a good year for me. I was wandering aimlessly. I was sick of things. I was furious with myself that the „beauty“ of life wasn't sustaining me, wasn't making my loneliness bearable.

I wanted to join them. Always do want to join them and never do. „Go home,“ he whispered. - Prince Lestat

(I actually feel like there are quotes that would correspond to this song in every one of the books and indeed have not yet found any other song that captures the general spirit of The Vampire Chronicles as perfectly.)

2. Edge of Seventeen – Stevie Nicks

Well, I went today Maybe I will go again tomorrow Yeah yeah, well, the music there Well, it was hauntingly familiar Well, I see you doing what I try to do for me With the words from a poet and a voice from a choir And a melody, and nothing else mattered

He sat next to me, hugging me and asking me why I was crying, and though I couldn't tell him, I could see that he was overwhelmed that his music had produced this effect. There was no sarcasm or bitterness in him now. I think he carried me home that night. And the next morning I was standing in the crooked stone street in front of his father's shop, tossing pebbles up at his window. When he stuck his head out, I said: „Do you want to come down and go on with our conversation?“ - The Vampire Lestat

3. I ain't scared of lightning – Tom McRae

No I ain't scared of lightning And thunder never killed I was born in a summer storm and I live there still

I wasn't part of the world that cringed at such things. And with a smile, I realized that I was of that dark ilk that makes others cringe. Slowly and with great pleasure, I laughed.

And the labor that brought it forth was rapture such as I have never known. - The Vampire Lestat

4. Junge Roemer – Falco (Young Romans – Full Translation)

Don't ask for new old values See white light, see only feeling The night is ours till morning We play every game Don't ever let this journey end The doing comes only from the being Only from dimensions, that Are worth illusions and sensations Give me more, give me more, give me more...

... and again she laughed. „Ah, but we are splendid devils, aren't we?“ „Hunters of the Savage Garden,“ I said. „Then let's go into Paris,“ she said. - The Vampire Lestat

5. Running up that hill – Candy Says (Original by Kate Bush

If I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, Be running up that building,

„Not even with Nicolas?“ „No, god, no!“ I looked at her. She nodded slightly as if she approved of this answer. „Why not with Nicolas?“ she asked. I wanted this to stop. „Because he's young,“ I said, „and he has life before him.“ - The Vampire Lestat

6. Florence – Notre Dame de Paris (Full Translation)

The little things always triumph over the large And literature will kill architecture The school books will kill the cathedrals The Bible will kill the Church, and man will kill God This will kill that

„I never lived in it. I push against the glass. But how do I get in?“ „I can't tell you that,“ I said. „You have to study this age,“ Gabrielle interrupted. Her voice was calm but commanding. He looked towards her as she spoke. „You have to understand the age,“ she continued, „through its literature and its music and its art. You have come up out of the earth, as you yourself put it. Now live in the world.“ No answer from him. Flash of Nicki's ravaged flat with all its books on the floor. Western civilization in heaps. - The Vampire Lestat

7. Go your own way – Fleetwood Mac

Loving you isn't the right thing to do How can I ever change things that I feel

If I could maybe I'd give you my world How can I when you won't take it from me

You can go your own way You can call it another lonely day

„Keep your promise,“ she said. And quite suddenly I knew this was our last moment. I knew it and I could do nothing to change it. „Gabrielle!“ I whispered. But she was already gone. - The Vampire Lestat

8. Désenchantée – Olympe (Original by Myléne Farmer - Full Translation)

If death is a mystery Life isn't exactly tender If heaven has a hell Then heaven can still wait for me Tell me how to handle this headwind Nothing makes sense anymore, nothing's fine

Laughter. That insane music. That din, that dissonance, that never ending shrill articulation of the meaninglessness... Am I awake? Am I asleep? I am sure of one thing. I am a monster. And because I lie in torment in the earth, certain human beings move on through the narrow pass of life unmolested. - The Vampire Lestat

9. A kind of magic – Queen

The bell that rings inside your mind Is challenging the doors of time It's a kind of magic The waiting seems eternity The day will dawn of sanity

And quite completely I understood that it was looking for me, this sound, it was seeking me out.

Blood like light itself, liquid fire.

It seemed beneath the roar of the flow he spoke. He said again: „Drink, my young one, my wounded one.“ I felt his heart swell, his body undulate, and we were sealed against each other. I think I heard myself say: „Marius.“ And he answered: „Yes.“ - The Vampire Lestat

10. La quête – Bruno Pelletier (French version of „The Impossible Dream“ from Man of La Mancha)

To try when your arms are too weary To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest To follow that star Ooh, no matter how hopeless No matter how far

I would remain in New Orleans if New Orleans could only manage to remain. Whatever I suffered should be lessened in this lawless place, whatever I craved should give me more pleasure once I had it in my grasp. And there were moments on that first night in this fetid little paradise when I prayed that in spite of all my secret power, I was somehow kin to every mortal man. - The Vampire Lestat

11. Wicked Game – Chris Isaak

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

Yet Louis gained a hold over me far more powerful than Nicolas had ever had. Even in his cruelest moments, Louis touched the tenderness in me, seducing me with his staggering dependence, his infatuation with my every gesture and every spoken word. - The Vampire Lestat

12. Do I disappoint you – Rufus Wainwright

Do I disappoint you, in just being human? And not one of the elements that you can light your cigar on Why does it always have to be fire? Why does it always have to be brimstone?

„And suppose the vampire who made you knew nothing, and the vampire before him knew nothing, and so it goes back and back, nothing proceeding from nothing, until there is nothing! And we must live with the knowledge that there is no knowledge!“ „Yes!“ he cried out suddenly, his hands out, his voice tinged with something other than anger.

And then I sensed it. He was afraid. Lestat afraid. - Interview with the Vampire

13. Ordinary World – Duran Duran

What has happened to it all? Crazy, some'd say Where is the life that I recognize? Gone away

But I won't cry for yesterday There's an ordinary world Somehow I have to find And as I try to make my way To the ordinary world I will learn to survive

I do not remember when it became the twentieth century, only that everything was uglier and darker, and the beauty I'd known in the old eighteenth-century days seemed more than ever some kind of fanciful idea. - The Vampire Lestat

14. I'm still standing – Taron Egerton (Original by Elton John)

And there's a cold lonely light that shines from you You'll wind up like the wreck you hide behind that mask you use And did you think this fool could never win? Well look at me, I'm coming back again

But after the third night up, I was roaring around New Orleans on a big black Harley-Davidson motorcycle making plenty of noise myself. […] I was the vampire Lestat again. I was back in action. New Orleans was once again my hunting ground. - The Vampire Lestat

15. Catch my fall – Billy Idol

I have the time so I will sing, yeah I'm just a boy but I will win, yeah Lost song of lovers, fellow travelers, yeah Leave me sad and hollow out of words

It could happen to you so think for yourself If I should stumble, catch my fall, yeah

I've survived, obviously. I wouldn't be talking to you if I hadn't. And the cosmic dust has finally settled; and the small rift in the world's fabric of rational beliefs has been mended, or at least closed. I'm a little sadder for all of it, and a little meaner and a little more conscientious as well. - The Queen of the Damned

16. I want it all – Queen

I'm a man with a one track mind So much to do in one lifetime (people do you hear me) Not a man for compromise and where's and why's and living lies So I'm living it all, yes I'm living it all And I'm giving it all, and I'm giving it all

It is not enough any longer that my little rock band be successful. We must create a fame that will carry my name and my voice to the remotest parts of the world. - The Vampire Lestat

17. Let me entertain you – Robbie Williams

Hell is gone and heaven's here There's nothing left for you to fear Shake your arse come over here Now scream

I'm a burning effigy Of everything I used to be You're my rock of empathy, my dear

So come on let me entertain you

"I AM THE VAMPIRE LESTAT!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as I stepped way back from the microphone, and the sound was almost visible as it arched over the length of the oval theater, and the voice of the crowd rose even higher, louder, as if to devour the ringing sound. - The Vampire Lestat

18. La bien qui fait mal – Mozart l'Opera Rock (Full translation)

I can feel a violent urge I feel like I'm sliding towards the ground If I don't find out where this plague is coming from I adore having it under my skin Bewitched by mad ideas Suddenly all my cravings take off The desire becomes my prison Until I loose my mind

Yet I was in her arms in this chilling darkness, in the familiar scent of winter, and her blood was mine again, and it was enslaving me. When she drew away, I felt agony. - The Queen of the Damned

19. Tainted Love – Soft Cell

And you think love is to pray But I'm sorry I don't pray that way Once I ran to you Now I'll run from you This tainted love you've given I give you all a boy could give you Take my tears and that's not living, oh

„What do you think I am that I am so easily swayed? I was born a Queen. I have always ruled; even from the shrine I ruled." Her eyes were glazed suddenly. I heard the voices, a dull hum rising. "I ruled if only in legend; if only in the minds of those who came to me and paid me tribute. Princes who played music for me; who brought me offerings and prayers. What do you want of me now? That for you, I renounce my throne, my destiny!" What answer could I make? - The Queen of the Damned

20. Dancing in the Dark – Ruth Moody (Original by Bruce Springsteen)

They say you gotta stay hungry Hey baby, I'm just about starvin' tonight I'm dyin' for some action I'm sick of sittin' 'round here tryin' to write this book I need a love reaction Come on now, baby, gimme just one look

"I want you to put the book aside and come join us," he said. "You've been locked in here for over a month." "I go out now and then," I said. I liked looking at him, at the neon blue of his eyes.

"Do you love me now?" I asked. He smiled; oh, it was excruciating to see his face soften and brighten simultaneously when he smiled. "Yes," he said. "Want to go on a little adventure?" My heart was thudding suddenly. It would be so grand if- "Want to break the new rules?" "What in the world do you mean?" he whispered. - The Queen of the Damned

21. I want you – Savage Garden

Oh, I want you, I don't know if I need you But oh, I would die to find out

"You don't think you'll be back?" he asked. "I think you will, whether I call or not." Another little surprise. A little stab of humiliation. I smiled at him in spite of myself. He was a very interesting man. "You silver-tongued British bastard," I said. "How dare you say that to me with such condescension? Maybe I should kill you right now."

I thought of David Talbot's face, and that moment when he'd challenged me. Well, maybe he was right. I'd be back. Who said I couldn't come back and talk to him if I wanted to? - The Queen of the Damned

22. Lay your hands on me – Bon Jovi

I'm a fighter, I'm a poet, I'm a preacher I've been to school, oh baby, I've been the teacher If you show me how to get up off the ground I can show you how to fly and never ever come back down

I sat down on the bed beside him. And then I bent down and kissed his face again gently, as I had in New Orleans, liking the feel of his roughly shaven beard, just as I liked that sort of thing when I was really Lestat and I would soon have that strong masculine blood inside. I moved closer to him, when suddenly he grasped my hand, and I felt him gently push me away. „Why, David?“ I asked him. He didn't answer. He lifted his right hand and brushed my hair back out of my eyes. „I don't know,“ he whispered. „I can't. I simply can't.“ - The Tale of the Body Thief

23. 20th Century Boy – Placebo (Original by T-Rex)

I move like a cat, charge like a ram Sting like a bee, babe, I wanna be your man, hey!

He drew back with a speed that astonished me, cleaving to the wall. „Don't do this, Lestat.“ „Don't fight me, old friend. You waste your effort. You have a long night of discovery ahead.“ - The Tale of the Body Thief

24. Way down we go – KALEO

Oh, Father tell me, do we get what we deserve? Whoa, we get what we deserve And way down we go

„In chains, to my friend and my scribe, I dictated these words. Come with me. Just listen to me. Don't leave me alone.“ - Memnoch the Devil

25. Personal Jesus – Depeche Mode

Reach out, touch faith

"Don't tell me," Gabrielle said slurringly, "that it's a matter of faith." She sneered and shook her head. "You come like doubting Thomas to thrust your bloody fangs in the very wound." "Oh, stop, please, I beg you," I whispered. I put up my hands. "Let me try, and let him hurt me, and then be satisfied, and turn away." - The Vampire Armand

26. Papillon – Editors

Darling Just don't put down your guns yet If there really was a God here He'd have raised a hand by now Now darling You're born, get old, then die here Well that's quite enough for me We'll find our own way home somehow

"And if I spill my blood down into this coffin now," Lestat asked her, "what do you think will come back? Do you think it will be our Louis that will rise in these burnt rags? What if it's not, chérie, what if it's some wounded revenant that we must destroy?" "Choose life, Lestat," she said. - Merrick

27. Sunday Light – Choir Boy

Why, why, why, are you silent on the ride home? I'd love to see the temple with you Heavenly and bright, golden angel twisted scathing You were one of us, one of us, one of us, you were one of us

"Then come, Little Brother, take me to where you want to talk," he said, and I felt the soft squeeze of his fingers on my arm. "Why are you so kind to me?" I asked him. "You're used to people being paid to do it, aren't you?" he asked. - Blackwood Farm

28. Für mich solls rote Rosen regnen – Hildegard Knef (It should rain red roses for me - Full translation)

It should rain red roses for me All wonders should encounter me The world should rearrange itself And keep its worries to itself

I want to be a saint. I want to save souls by the millions. I want to do good far and wide. I want to fight evil! I want my life-sized statue in every church. I'm talking six feet tall, blond hair, blue eyes- Wait a second. Do you know who I am? - Blood Canticle

29. Constant Craving – K. D. Lang

Even through the darkest phase Be it thick or thin Always someone marches brave Here beneath my skin And constant craving Has always been

I was hunting, thirsting though I didn't need to drink, at the mercy of the craving, the deep agonizing lust for heated pumping human blood. - Prince Lestat

30. Kalte Sterne – Jan Ammann (Cold Stars from the musical Ludwig² - Full translation)

Get up, ride home, on your horse, through your land Across the morning with your reins trailing behind you Build a castle like a dream, build it with mighty hands And it shall be named „future“

Build a castle like a dream Up from the ashes and close to the heavens Build a castle like a dream And realise the future as king

If we wanted to survive, if we wanted to inherit the millenia […] then we had to meet the future with respect as well as courage and count fear and selfishness to be small things. - Prince Lestat and the realms of Atlantis

31. C'est une belle journée – Mylene Farmer (Full translation)

I'm going to bed To bite eternity With my mouth wide open It's a beautiful day

And I felt the cold numbing shell of alienation and despair which had imprisoned me all of my life among the Undead – I felt that shell cracked, broken, and dissolved utterly into infinitesimal fragments. - Blood Communion

32. Princes of the Universe – Queen

Fly the moon and reach for the stars With my sword and head held high Got to pass the test first time, yeah I know that people talk about me, I hear it every day But I can prove them wrong 'cause I'm right first time

„I know that you meant full well to bring Rhoshamandes down, of course you did. But you had no way of knowing that you could. And no one would have predicted that you could. And with the willingness to die, you gave yourself over into his hands... and you disarmed him and destroyed him.“ – Blood Communion

And finally, because I can, a bonus track:

33. Primadonna – MARINA

And I'm sad to the core, core, core Every day is a chore, chore, chore When you give, I want more, more, more I wanna be adored

[lovelystarlings]

Chapter Two - Hermione Granger

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

When Camille was a little girl, her mother and father used to tell her the tale of Lily Potter; the woman who saved her son with love, the same son who defeated the Dark Lord and survived the killing curse. Camille never realised that Harry Potter was the same age as her, nor did she realise how young he was when he defeated the Dark Lord. So as she sat opposite him, she gained an insane amount of respect for him.

"I thought Fred and George were just joking around but, god you're him?" Ron spoke, his eyes wide in anticipation as he leant forward at the same time as Camille slammed her book shut and got up, squashing next to the two boys; much to the embarrassment of Ron who was heavily blushing once again.

"Have you got the, um, you know?" He pointed to Harry's forehead.

Harry nodded and pulled his bangs back to show the lightning scar that sat right in the middle of his forehead.

"Is that where the Dark Lord, you know?" Camile uttered out quietly, not wanting to offend the boy in anyway but curious, as any person would be, as to how he survived the ultimate curse.

"Yes," Harry replied, "But I don't remember it very much. Some green light but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at harry for a few minutes than snapped his head back to the window, realising what he was doing.

"So you two must know loads about magic already." Harry spoke, looking at Camille, who hadn't really spoken to much.

"Oh yes," Camille spoke, her hands falling into her lap to fiddle with her cardigan ends, she hated small talk. "In France I was lucky to be tutored by the headmistress of my older sister's school, Beauxbaton's. My mother insisted I wasn't behind with my education, so she had me start reading and learning a year early." She explained, both boys leaning forward, her French accent making it impossible not to listen.

"Though I heard you had to live with muggles, how was it?" She spoke, instantly regretting her question when a look of despair flashed across the boy's face before he covered it with a mask of tranquillity. "Yeah that must have been terrible. My mums got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him." Ron began, Camille suspected that the Weasley's were one of the Sacred Twenty Eight, the twenty eight pure-blooded wizarding families, unfortunately the Delacour's were not a part of that twenty eight due to her grandmother being veela and her grandfather being a pureblood therefore leading to her mother being a half blood, breaking the Sacred Twenty Eight rules.

"Muggles are horrible -well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers or a wizard sister."

"Witch sister actually Harry, if you're gonna be a wizard you have to get the pronouns right."

"Five, actually" said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy, but Camille supposed so would she if she had five versions of Fleur, one was quite enough. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left -- Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good mark's and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

He gently took the rat that had previously been asleep off of his lap to display to the group. "His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff - I mean, I got stupid old Scabbers instead." Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Harry began to speak about his experience with muggles, how he had hand me down everything, and how he lived in a cupboard under the stairs, and how his aunt and uncle practically treated him like slave, or rather a house elf, Camille thought. Ron seemed to cheer up at the news that he wasn't the only unfortunate one in the carriage, and when both boys looked at Camille, as it were her turn to share the pity party, she froze. Despite having the perfect life to others, she had suffered from anxiety since she was a child due to an event that she wasn't quite ready to share just yet.

"My parents have always favoured my older sister over me, and it hurts you know. It's always about her, and her feelings, and how she succeeds, and sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be here you know? Like if my parents don't truly love me than who will. I mean they do all these things for me so they look good and fair enough but sometimes I wish they treated me like Fleur, and not some random that lives with them. Even when Fleur's boyfriend rap-" She cut herself off, her eyes beginning to water as she remembered how her parents had treated her after that. Her sister was just a loving as always, but naïve to the hardships that some faced, as she had never faced them herself.

Looking up at the two she felt a hand on her knee, Harry's hand to be specific.

"You don't have to carry on, it's okay." He spoke, Ron nodding in agreement, trying to find something to distract the poor girl.

"Hey look! We're out of London!" The redheaded boy pointed out the window as the trio smiled at the endless evergreen that surrounded them. They were finally on their way to Hogwarts.

Timed past quickly, and at half past twelve a faint knock was heard on the door of the compartment, waking Camille suddenly from her sleep, the book that had been rested on her face banging loudly as it fell to the floor, Camille bending down to pick it up awkwardly.

A smiling elderly woman poked her head around the sliding door gently, Harry and Ron already starting to thorough through their pockets for change. Camille assumed this was the trolley lady. 

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Ron made the decision to stay sat down and pulled out a bag of sandwiches that Mrs Weasley had obviously made, the French girl melting inside at the sweetness of his mother. He stared at the girl strangely, as if he expected her to get up like Harry.

"I left my money in the trunk," she shrugged, before going back to her book. She didn't need to eat anyway, as her mother had told her countless times.

Hearing a gasp from Ron, she lifted her head to see Harry return, arms filled with everything you could think off; chocolate frogs, every flavoured beans, blowing gum, pumpkin pasties (Camille's personal favourite) and cauldron cakes. He had basically bought out the whole trolley, making Ron's sandwiches look inferior compared to his full course meal or rather dessert.

"Bloody hell Harry. Hungry, are you?" Camille spoke, but was silent soon after as her stomach chose the wrong to rumble loudly, most likely the result of skipping breakfast and lunch.

"Bloody hell Camille. Hungry, are you?" Harry spoke mockingly, after taking a huge bite of his pasty and causing crumbs to spray everywhere.

"Harry!" Camille scolded, whipping her napkin out of her pocket to wipe off the crumps that had landed in her lap. "You never talk with your mouthful, it's vulgar!" She muttered to herself, Harry and Ron began to laugh at her antics as she furiously wiped her dress down, and threw the napkin onto the seat beside her, stomach rumbling once again.

"Camille?"

"Yes." The girl said frustratingly, blowing a stray hair that had fallen on to her forehead away, looking at the boy who lived in annoyance. She despised bad etiquette. "Would you like a pastry, in return for forgiveness for my devastatingly terrible manners in front of a lovely lady like you?" An annoying tone of confidence dripped from his words as Harry held out his hand, in it a pumpkin pastry.

"Well," Camille spoke slowly, hand reaching over to Harry's, "They are my favourite."

"You too, Ron. I'm not just gonna leave you with a beef sandwich." The boy who lived spoke, pushing a pasty over to the ginger boy. It was nice feeling, Camille thought as the three sat there munching their way through the endless pile of sweets, Mrs Weasley's homemade sandwiches far forgotten.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills. Excitement built in Camille, making her rather giddy as she thought of their arrival at Hogwarts.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and a round-faced boy with shaking hand entered. He looked tearful, and Camille felt the need to give him a hug.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, surprisingly loud considering they were on a train full of people, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"Well I'm sure he'll come back soon," spoke Camille in a matter of fact way, "We're on a train it's not like he can get far!"

"Yes, I suppose he will." The boy spoke miserably, before leaving their cabin in a hushed manner, heading straight to the opposite compartment, asking them the exact same question he had asked them.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron, patting the rat on his lap aggressively. "If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought useless old Scabbers, so I can't really talk."

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..." He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway."

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toad less boy had returned, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes, her puffy brown hair and front crooked teeth noticeable. But Camille thought that she was quite pretty.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. Ah, thought Camille, so Neville's his name.

"We already told him we haven't seen it but we'll let him know if we do." Camille spoke softly, pitying the poor boy, Neville, she corrected herself, who still had tears pouring down his cheeks.

The girl however seemed distracted at the sight of a wand, a smile appearing on her face as she began to step further into the compartment, sitting herself down next to Camille. "Are you doing magic? Show us then." Ron seemed taken aback at forwardness of the brunette girl, who had made herself comfortable nest to Camille, even going as far to rest gently on her shoulder; Camille had found her new best friend.

"Uh-ok?" He cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

Nothing happened, and Camille just had to let out a tiny giggle, not noticing the looks she gained from Harry and the girl beside her.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you." She spoke extremely fast, Camille having issues simply catching her name.

Hermione. Camille thought. That's pretty.

"Oh, w-well thank you I guess." Camille was just about as red as Ron's hair. She hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Um you're welcome. I'm Camille." She locked eyes with the bushy haired girl, immediately looking away when she saw Hermione was as red as she was.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered, his mouth once again stuffed with food.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

[anghraine]

I have a very, very vague memory of there being more of Subsequent Connections than show up on AO3 -- am I totally wrong? It's a delightful series that definitely shows how two very different people deal with finding a birth family -- and in their case, it wasn't something they'd sought for themselves. I was rereading it today and really enjoying it, and thought I'd ask.

Oh, thank you very much! 

It’s such a weird concept for a P&P fic—I would never have thought of it on my own, but I read a couple with the idea of Jane and Elizabeth as Fitzwilliams, and was like “well, if I wrote it, I’d do x and y to make it less painful and then z to make it MORE painful and wouldn’t it be interesting if…” Therein lies the path to hell.

I thiiiiiink the eleventh chapter of SC on AO3 is as far as that particular version of the story ever got, though I had some “missing scene” side pieces that it doesn’t look like I crossposted. I’ve been catching up on crossposting anyway, so I could move those over.

Also, there was an original (substantially different) version of the story that might be what you’re thinking of? With this one, I really wanted to focus more on exactly what you mentioned—the discovery as more than a plot device, the profound effects of Jane having memories of her birth family where Elizabeth doesn’t coupled with differences in personality/situation, the really bizarre position that Darcy ends up in, a more subtle take on the Elizabeth vs Eleanor tension, Milton’s melodramas, and so forth. It’s a lot more gradual.

Bearing in mind that I last updated in *squints* 2009, I dug up my folder for the fic (I save everything), and it looks like I actually was working on something in 2010! And… oh hey, it says Ch 12. I genuinely have no memory of working on this, so this is about as new to me as to anyone else, but … here is what I’d written:

ChapterTwelve

“Goodmorning, Miss Fitzwilliam.”

Elizabethsmiled. “Good morning. How is my grandmother?”

“Herladyship is … she will be pleased to see you, madam.”

Sheis always pleased to see me, Elizabeththought, with more than a trace of regret. Lady Ancaster, haughty,whimsical, and often disordered in her mind, was regarded withvarying degrees of trepidation by all the others.

Eleanor,usually fearless, would greet her with a white face and icy,trembling hands, and turn paler and colder until she fled. Elizabethfelt not the smallest surprise that Eleanor’s brash sort ofcourage, if courage it could be called—all good nerves and boldspirits—would desert her in such a matter as this, and disliked herall the more for it. Yet even Cecily could endure only a few minuteswithout palpable discomfort. Edward refused to come without hisbrother or sister, correcting Lady Ancaster in a flat, humourlessvoice nothing like his own, while loquacious Richard rarely spoke.

Elizabethherself neither felt nor understood any of this. She sat with LadyAncaster almost every day, and treasured thequiet hours she spent with her, away from the rest of the world—reading novels aloud or eagerly listening to her reminiscences. Itwas such a relief to escape from everything,just for a little while; the troubles and irritations of her lifeseemed to weigh much less on her mind, when she could confide them insomeone who listened evenwhen she did not understand.

It helped, too,that Lady Ancaster always loved her, whether she knew her or not. Elizabeth found it strangely easy to accustom herself to being called“Catherine” or “Laura” or even “Cassandra,” often in thecourse of a single conversation.

“Good morning,Grandmama,” she said gaily, kissing her forehead. “How are youtoday?”

“Very well.” Lady Ancaster cast her a sly look. “I heard that you danced thricewith Lord Bertie. I hope you are not thinking seriously of him.”

Elizabethhad never heard of him in her life. She laughed. “Indeed not. Idid go to an assemblylast night, however; we all did. I did not sit down once.”

“Youhave always enjoyed dancing,” Lady Ancaster remarked. Elizabethchose to believe this was true—true for her,not one of the phantoms of her ladyship’s memory.

“I expect so. Icannot remember a time when I did not—so I enjoyed the assembly. Perhaps you do not know, but it was my first since my f—since Icame to Houghton. I cannot remember all the people I met, but theywere all pleasant to me.”

Lady Ancaster casther a sharp look. “Only to you, Phylly?”

“ ‘Tis Elizabeth,not Philadelphia,” she said easily, “and of course they were not. At least—well, everybody was very deferential to my uncle,naturally, and people always seem to like Edward for some reason.”

“Charm andcharity do not always have very much to say to one another.”

Elizabeth’sbrow furrowed. “Er, quite so. Then there is Richard; he makeshimself agreeable everywhere. Eleanor, I suppose, intimidates theworld into fearful awe, but Cecily—I could not help overhearing—”

“Do you refer to the elder MissFitzwilliam?” Sir George looked incredulous. He was abaronet, Elizabeth had been reliably informed—a young, attractivebaronet of good family—four thousand a-year—and expectationsof a doting godmother, too—

“The younger is, er, dancing with,er, Mr Talbot, I believe.”

“I believe,” he saidicily, “that a man of family and refinement, such as myself, mightaim a little higherthan a witless, penniless girl with no greater claims than those shealready makes on the earl’s charity. Forgive me if my requirementsare too nice.”

Elizabeth,scarcely able to believe her ears, turned to Cecily in astonishment. She immediately wished she had not; Cecily’s bloodless face crumpled—in humiliation, misery—in everything but surprise, then wentblank.  Elizabeth was strongly reminded of a kicked puppy.  

“I know you are fond of Cecilia, and her circumstances certainlyattract an undesirable degree of attention,” Lady Ancaster said,“but Laura, dear, you must know by now that your cousin is quitecapable of managing her own concerns.”

Elizabethpressed her lips together. “Forgive me, madam, but Cecilyis nothing of the kind.”

Something flickered in her grandmother’s eyes. “Cecily?” sherepeated. “It was not Henry’s Cecilia, then? I never heard thatshe was called—oh!  'Twas little Cecilia, then?”

“Yes, Grandmama.”

“Ohdear.”

Elizabeth snatched at the moment of lucidity. “Sir George Pelham—I don’t know if you are acquainted with him, but he declined to dancewith her in very uncivil terms. No; I believe it was more than awant of consideration, but active cruelty. Poor Cecily heard everyword.”

“I detest all the race of Pelhams,” said Lady Ancaster.

“I certainly detest him.” Elizabeth sprang up, unable to remainquiescent in her chair, and paced furiously before the window. “Heasked to dance with me later. I am no handsomer than Cecily and wehave all the same connections, so I cannot think what made thedifference.”

“I trust, my dear, that you managed to refuse the compliment in thespirit it deserved.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I persuaded him that he must have mistaken mefor Eleanor.”

“Theresemblance is not thatstrong.” Lady Ancaster gave her a sharp look. “You must havebeen very persuasive, Elizabeth.”

Sheopened her eyes very wide. “Oh, but Sir George could not haveintended such a great compliment to me, a mere poor relation of LordAncaster’s. He made that perfectlyclear when he disparagedmy cousin to half the room; only the earl’s daughtercould possibly be worthy of such a discriminating taste.”

“I see,” murmured the countess.

“Naturally,” Elizabeth added, her tone sharpening, “I alwayswish to be of use to my superiors, so I explained his error to himbefore I returned to my proper place. He must have understood, forhe asked Eleanor to dance immediately afterward.”

“Did she accept?”

“Eleanor? Of course not.” And her brusque refusal had expressedall the astonishment and contempt that Elizabeth could have hopedfor. Sir George had been humiliated before everyone in earshot.

Hergrandmother laughed, then fell silent; Elizabeth remained at thewindow, staring at the dirty, melting snow. In retrospect,she supposed she should not have done it. Polite set-downs were onething; with her sharp tongue and quick temper, and even a sort ofinnocent vanity, she had certainly delivered more than one of those. But this was not an intemperate remark. Spur-of-the-momentthough it had been, she had contrived—schemed.  

Elizabeth shut hereyes. She had been so angry, the blazing fury blinding her toeverything but herself and that stupid, self-important littlepopinjay. Since her father’s death, apathy seemed to have consumedevery slice of rage she ought to have felt, until that moment. Thenall at once, she felt it all.

Mr and Mrs Bennet—and Mr and Mrs Fitzwilliam—were gone. She could hardly returnEleanor’s abrasive manners or Edward’s caustic insouciance in kind,not without descending to their level of incivility. James and Janedeserved nothing less than the gentle kindness they dispensed to all. As for Darcy, she could not say with any certainty what she thoughtof him, or felt toward him. He was clever, interesting; hehad not thought her handsome enough to dance with; he had started allof this; he was at Pemberley.

In some fashion oranother, they were all beyond the reach of her anger; but Sir George,standing before her—smiling—

“Goodmorning,” whispered Cecily, her smile bright and brittle. “How is she today?”“Well enough,”Elizabeth said. “She had a few lucid moments, atleast.”Cecily bit her lip. “I—I washoping I could steal you away, Elizabeth. The snow is nearlyall melted, and my uncle says we may walk out again.”“Oh! I should very much enjoy that—just permit me a moment to put apillow under—thank you, Theodore.” She bent to kiss LadyAncaster’s wrinkled cheek, then hurried after Cecily.“Thankyou,” she said. “You see, Sir George called; SirGeorge Pelham, who—you remember? He—Ella refused to dancewith him last night. Apparently he has some business withEdward.”Elizabeth laughed. “I did notknow anybody had business with Edward.”“Hedoesn’t.” Cecily quickened her steps. “Ofcourse he came to see Ella. Brown thinks so, at any rate; Ididn’t see him myself—did not even know he was here, until she toldme. Then I went down to Lord Ancaster’s study, and found you,and—well. I would rather not see him, and it is a niceday.”“It is a very nice day,” Elizabethagreed, uncertain whether she felt more pity at Cecily’s quandary, oramusement at Eleanor’s.“That is exactly what Ithought! And—and perhaps you would like to see Gulliver? I am sure you haven’t.”Elizabeth, though lighter andseveral inches taller than her cousin, almost ran to keep up withher. “Who is Gulliver?” she asked breathlessly,blinking when they stepped outside, into the daylight.“Mydog,” said Cecily, smiling more genuinely. “Oh, I amglad to be outside again. Are not the gardens pretty?—He’s twelve years old; Fitzwilliam gave him to me when he was justa puppy. He said it was a favour, that Gulliver was sougly that nobody else would take him, and he certainly didn’t wanthim, but I knew better. It was my birthday, and boys—youknow how they are.” “Oh, yes,” saidElizabeth.“Edward and Richard’s dogs frightened him,poor thing, so he doesn’t sleep in the house any more. EvenAunt Milton’s pug terrified him. It was ridiculous,really, to see Gulliver cowering before a little dog like that.”“Ishould like to see him very much,” Elizabeth said, rememberingJane’s account of her early quarrels with Pugsy. “I adoredogs. Where do you keep him, Cecily?”Cecilyhesitated, then grinned up at her, her usual manner entirelyrestored. “I shan’t tell you until we get there,” shesaid airily.  “It will be a surprise.—Do not worry,it isn’t far.”They talked lightly as they walked,somewhere between enjoyment and relief. Cecily spotted a bunchof chrysanthemums with a cry of delight, promptly picking them all. Elizabeth only shook her head and asked about their second cousins ontheir mothers’ side.Within a few minutes, she foundherself staring at a small, square, ridiculously picturesque house. It was built on a small eminence, backed by three stands of trees,and looked out upon all the splendour and elegance of Houghtonproper.  Snow still adorned the roof, cheerful yellow curtainshung in the windows—windows undoubtedly covered by honeysuckle inthe summer. Gilpin himself could not have improved upon it.

“Is it notpretty?”

“Very,” saidElizabeth. “Is this the parsonage?”

[theradioghost]

Okay so MAYBE I've been reading too much Xmen but I'm really into the idea of characters meeting their time displaced future kids and I'd die to see a Penumbra version? Bonus points if they're from ~the darkest timeline~ where their parents are dead 🖤🖤 (I love u and your headcanons so much ur a gift to us all)

ohhhh, Anon, I have spent the last two weeks binging arsPARADOXICA, and trust me when I say right now my head is full of future selves and dark timelines and people making terrible, terrible decisions with time travel. consequently this may have gotten away from me and I may have written this instead of taking notes in my last class, but please accept this totally unbeta’d 2.5k.

The person following Nureyev down the alleyway was good; very good. No one else would have heardher footsteps, mirroring his exactly, without echo. She could have crept up onanyone else.

But not on him, which seemed almost a shame as he spun, caughther, had her pinned to the ground in a heartbeat. He’d never been one forprolonging a fight, and he’d never had the brute strength for the kind ofhand-to-hand that Juno went in for; but his spouse had insisted that Nureyevbroaden his technique to include a number of useful throws and holds after afew too many close shaves and a few too many dead bodies. And besides, he had afew questions.

“Now,” he said politely, pressing the swearing girl’s faceinto the pavement. She really was a girl, barely out of her teens at theoutside, and he was glad he hadn’t gone for the knife. “We meet at last.”

“Get off!”

“After all,” he continued, unperturbed, “aren’t you the onewho’s been trying to interfere with my work for the past week and a half?Trying very admirably, I’ll admit. This was uncharacteristically clumsy of you.So, who hired you?”

“I’m not working for anyone.” Her voice was impressivelypetulant, considering it was muffled by most of his weight and the grittyconcrete beneath her.

“I don’t appreciate lying,” Nureyev said. “You’re certainlyvery talented for your age, but not talented enough, I think, to have had thekind of information on me which you clearly do. Those pitfalls were very personalized. You know how I work,which means you’re with someone I’ve workedwith before. Or worked against. It makes no difference. If you were foolishenough to try mugging me in an alleyway, they can’t have told you enough aboutme.”

“You’re making a mistake,” she said.

“Wrong again. I’m making a profit off yours,” Nureyev said,placing his knee in the center of her back and hearing the air leave her withan oof. He loosened his hold justenough to reach down and begin rifling through her pockets, the work of onlyseconds; she wasn’t carrying much, although he noticed some kind of sleek,complex personal device which wrapped all the way around her arm. It was alittle petty, perhaps, but the prospect of rethinking his technique enough toevade this mysterious new adversary was irritating, even as it excited him.Juno would be furious.

As soon as he touched the device, the girl started tostruggle far more desperately. “Do nottake that,” she said. “That is a bad, bad idea – ”

He tightened his grip, and something on thedevice beeped. There was a second ofrapidly gaining white noise, a sensation of heat, a bright flash –

Nureyev sprawled backwards on the concrete of the alley, thegirl next to him. There was someone coming around the corner, he realizedblurrily, disoriented; he could hear the footsteps.

He could have half sworn that the girl ran with him behind the storage container,but at any rate, they ended up pressed against the metal, Nureyev twisting herarms up behind her back with one hand and covering her mouth with the other,but not really paying attention because he was staring through a chink in themetal at himself, walking down thealleyway.

It was unmistakable, a living mirror. Nureyev knew ahologram when he saw one, and this wasn’t it. And when the girl’s doppelgangerappeared around the corner, following behind him, and his own double turned andpinned her to the ground, a surreal, impossible thought occurred to him.

The other Nureyev reached for the girl’s wrist; she tried topull away, and both of them vanished.

There was a long silence, broken only by the muffled soundsof the city at the end of the alleyway and the dripping of water from a nearbypipe. Then Nureyev lifted his hand off the girl’s mouth and said, “You have tenseconds to explain what just happened.”

“You’re not stupid, it’s obviously a time machine,” the girlsaid hurriedly. “I’m from the future and I’m trying to help you.”

Nureyev frowned. “So you’re not the person who’s been sabotaging me?”

A pause. “Uh, no. I am,” she said. “That’s how I’m helpingyou.”

“Excellent logic,”he said. “What just happened?”

“There’s an emergency switch on the device,” she said. “Movesyou in time one minute. You activated it.”

He considered it. And to his surprise, he believed it. Afterall, he’d seen stranger. Or things as strange,at least.

“You could let me go now,” the girl suggested hopefully.

“Alright,” Nureyev said, not letting go. “Let’s presume thatyou are, in fact, from the future. I think what you need to tell me now is whyI should believe that you’re sabotaging me for my own good.”

A pause, and then she said, “I know your name is PeterNureyev.”

Nureyev considered this for a second. Then he twisted one ofher arms ever so slightly further. “Certainly a dramatic choice,” he said. “Butjust as much of a threat as an assurance. Who are you, then, that you wouldknow my name? What’s yours?”

“Mona,” the girl yelped. “Harmonia, Harmonia Steel, go easy!”

Every one of Nureyev’s trains of thought stopped and rerouted to the same destination. “Steel,” he said. “What do you mean, Steel?”

“It means that you and Juno weren’t stupid enough to give meyour last name, Dad,” the girl snapped. “Now would you let me go?”

All of the strength he was not using to hold her down was suddenly going to making sure his hands did not start to shake. “Prove it,” he said.“Give me one piece of evidence that actuallyproves – ”

“He didn’t call you Peter until your wedding vows and whenyou asked he said he was scared of being the first person to say it to you intwenty years but it seemed stupid to leave it out,” Mona said, all in onebreath. “You two bicker constantly about whether sawdust coffee is even worthdrinking, he has a birthmark on his lower left back and you like to poke himthere to make him jump, you’re allergic to shellfish but he still doesn’t know because you think itmakes you look silly – ”

His hands seemed to let go, his legs to move him up and awayfrom her a step or two of their own accord. Nureyev stared at her, observingwith new eyes, awed eyes. “You’re…”

“I’m your daughter,” Mona said, rolling upright with awince. “And wow, you are heavier thanyou look.”

Nureyev looked at her – a young woman, sharp-eyed,tentatively smiling at him after her attempt at joking. A young woman smilingat her father, a young woman that hehad raised – that he would raise, andwho had, improbably, arrived in his now. Itall made sense, of course – he wouldn’t have admitted it for a heartbeat, butthe uncanny accuracy with which his previously unknown adversary had beenanticipating his every move had frustrated and spooked him. But that wasperfectly reasonable if she’d learned them straight from him. If he’d raisedher to the job.

He felt sick.

“You’re a thief,” he said flatly. “I don’t know what I’ll belike in the future, but let me tell you, in the present I do not approve.”

“Oh, hell, no,” Mona said. “No, you and Juno, both of youtaught me a few things, but believe me, there were always two big rules in ourhome, no growing up to be a thief or a detective. Both of you are gonna be really emphatic about that.”

“Then what do youdo?”

“I’m working on it,” she said. “I was thinking anthropology?Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that, it was a joke. Anyway, I’m not here togive you spoilers for the next twenty years.”

Nureyev caught the thought that he had at least twenty goodyears with Juno coming up, and filed it away to spend some time with when there was not business toattend to. “Alright then, Mona. Tell me, why did you travel twenty years intothe past to mug your father in an alleyway?”

“Someone hired you to steal a data chip from the Duchess ofNew Ithaca,” she said. “I’ve been trying to stop you without having to tell you all of this, and maybe screw upour entire timeline.”

“Unfortunately I think it’s too late for that on a number ofcounts, dear,” Nureyev said, reaching into his pocket. On its chain, the datachip caught the dim light of the alleyway, and its crystal circuits sparkled. “You’vetold me everything, and I’ve already stolen the chip.”

“I know,” she said miserably. “This was my last resort – I thoughtmaybe if I could steal it back off you I could return it quick enough.”

Nureyev stared at her. “And you decided to do that bysneaking up behind me in an alleyway,” he said, half in disbelief.

“…I’m Juno’s daughter too?”

Caught off guard, he laughed, and she did too, for half amoment. “Wow,” she said, “this is… so weird.You just look so young.”

“I take it I’ve gone gray in the future, then,” Nureyevsighed. “Hm? No? Oh, no, I haven’t gone bald, have I?”

The smile had faded from Mona’s face, and she stared at him,as though she didn’t know how to find the words. “In the future,” she saidslowly, “where I came from – when Icame from, you’re – you’re dead.”

He stopped laughing, and looked back at her, the anguish inher eyes.

“That’s why I’m trying to stop you,” she said. “It’s – we don’treally understand yet, you know, how this thing works, what effects it willhave – it’s half cannibalized Martian teleporter and half Dark Matters tech andwe’re half sure that if you create a paradox with it it’ll tear apart realityitself – but I had to, because yousteal that chip, and twenty-four hours later they realize it’s missing, andunless that doesn’t happen, unless it’s notgone by that time, then there’s nothing I can do, nothing that will stopthe chain of events that ends in twenty years with the Duchess killing you, andnow it’s too late.”

Twenty good years.

Nureyev had been roped into watching a few of Rita’s showson occasion, and time travel was a surprisingly frequent plot point. Hesincerely doubted the programs were what you might call scientifically accurate, but he’d paid enough attention to be awareof the theoretical problems of changing your own past. And he’d paid attentionwhen Mona said tear apart reality itself.

“There’s no other course?” he asked, very quietly.

“I had one shot,” she said. She wasn’t crying despite herchoked voice, which didn’t surprise him; he had no doubt that he and Juno wouldbe more than anxious to do their best as parents, but both of them were awfully good at bottling things up. “Itried everything I could think of, and I can’t just go back and do it over. IfI meet myself, that could be the end of everything.Literally everything, the entire universe. And knowing it’ll happen isn’t – isn’tgoing to help you.”

That settled that, then. This had been the tightest, mostfinely planned heist of his career, and the obstacles Mona had given him hadcut it yet closer. There were no further gaps, no place left to jam themachinery, much less without paradoxically contacting himself.

“Mona,” he said, as gently as he could manage. He didn’tknow this girl, didn’t love her yet, but the knowledge that he would, the wayshe was looking at him, the fact of a kid of not more than eighteen or nineteenwith the life or death of their father in their hands, weighed against uncountable lives  –

The world, or your life. Everyone else, or the one whomattered. He knew the choice he’d make.

“Mona, I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry that fate has led ushere. And I want you to know that I don’t blame you.” He put one hand overhers. “So I want you to go back. Go home.”

“You – ”

“I’ve always known the risks, my darling,” he said, managinga sad smile. He even meant it, in that moment, he really, truly did. “This isnot a job that tends to lead to a long life, after all – but you’ve just given me that, Mona. Twenty years is –is more than I ever could have expected. Twenty years with you and Juno is morethan I could have ever dreamed of. I nevercould have predicted such a piece of happiness coming into my life as Juno –I never could have predicted you,Mona. And knowing will make every second of it that much more precious. So go back and take care of him for me.”

Mona stared at him in disbelief for a second, and then hereyes hardened. “Dad,” she said, “she killed Juno, too.”

Nureyev’s world stopped.

“What?”

“I can’t stop that either,” she said. “This was my onlychance. All or nothing. I took a gamble and I lost.”

Juno was dead.

No, he thought, forcing his mind to organize, forcinghimself to think – no, Juno was fine, safe on Mars, safe for another twentyyears. But then, yes, dead.

Peter Nureyev reconsidered his decision.

The near-certain risk of ending reality itself. Or living twentycontented years knowing he’d done nothing to save the life of Juno Steel.

Absolutely everything ending. Or a universe that kepthappily, blindly turning, but without Juno Steel in it. Either way, no Juno.And then the slimmest chance of saving him.

He weighed the options. It wasn’t a hard choice. Not evenclose.

“Well, then, Mona,” he said, brushing alley grime off hiscoat. “You’ve been acting here for about two weeks, yes? Back three weeks, thistime, I think that should be enough – ”

“I told you,” she said. “I don’t think there’s anything elseI can do. You’re unstoppable on thisjob. You bragged about it my whole life. I’ve had fifteen years to figure itout and I still couldn’t do it.”

“You very nearly did,” Nureyev said. “But you’re you, Mona, and not quite me, for which I’mvery thankful. And you’d need a thief exactly as experienced as I am to come upwith a way to stop me from stealing that chip.”

“Which I’m not,” Mona said. “I know.”

“No,” he replied brightly. “But I am. And really, isn’t beating yourself at your own best con infinitely more worthbragging about?”