#might not relate in features like lily has green eyes!!

[saturfied]

the charm.

cherry lips, honey eyes, strawberry blond, you're stuck in my mind sharp nose, curly hair, pretty hands, lost in your care two souls yin & yang, third is the charm the balance in scales the middle - to the start and end, love is a tragedy with one less there not a (third) wheel but complete, with them life's pretty sweet :)

(authors note: regulus writing about jily in a jegulily au *not 100% accurate so please forgive me)

[puppyluver256]

So I remembered I had access to the transparent template of the polaroid frame used for the pics that you take with Mirphy's old camera, and I wanted to both put that to good use and see how my OCs might look in as close to the game's original style as I could manage. I'm really proud of how these came out! Only thing I woulda done differently is not lock the transparency when doing the noise-then-blur thing with Cosmos, but considering they were the first one done I clearly took that as a learning experience going forward XD Also there's a good year range between all of these in-universe, the earliest being Cosmos taking a proto-selfie just fresh from getting out of the Habitat, and the latest being Teddy where it's taken after he's out as a guy and started binding. Not before he picked his current name though, hence the corrective strips and rewrite hehe.

💖🐶 Check out my pinned post for ways to support my artwork, among other things! 🐶💖

~If you like, please reblog to show your friends! Likes are appreciated, but reblogs let more people see my content! If you have something to say, feel free to give feedback in tags/comments/replies as well!~

Smile For Me and related concepts © LimboLane Cosmos Stargazer, Holly Stargazer, Rosalyn Stargazer, Jaymee Boyd, Kanti Bora, Dr. Ava Glass, Ashish "Ash" Bora, Marcy Coltraine, Theodore "Teddy" Shelley, and artwork © PuppyLuver Studios

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[Image Description: A digital illustration of nine polaroid photographs sitting on a pale yellow table. Each polaroid is displayed individually as separate images, each featuring one of OP’s Smile For Me OCs.

The first polaroid: Cosmos Stargazer, OP’s take on the protagonist of Smile For me. They are an androgynous teen with reddish-brown skin, pink and green hair resembling a stargazer lily, and green eyes. They are wearing a pink and green face mask, pulled down around their chin to reveal their smiling face, with a small tooth gap and a missing tooth visible in their mouth. They are also wearing a light blue jacket with the sleeves rolled up and a purple shirt with pale pink stars. The photo is fairly close-in as though taken at a selfie angle. The background is a gradient of red and dark red. Text: “Cosmos Stargazer (me!!)”

The second polaroid: Holly Stargazer, Cosmos’s sister. She is a young woman with reddish-brown skin, green hair held in a ponytail with red hair decorations resembling holly leaves and berries, and green eyes. She is wearing a green sweater with pink accents, a pink scarf, and a pink and green shirt. She is sitting in a green and pink chair and posing with her arms crossed, one holding a green and pink pen. The background is a wall with yellow and green wavy wallpaper, a picture frame containing an unknown image to the left of Holly’s head. Text: “Holly Stargazer - best sis”

The third polaroid: Rosalyn Stargazer, OP’s take on the florist that is the protagonist’s parent. She is a middle-aged woman with reddish-brown skin and red hair in a bun shaped like a rose. She is wearing a red shirt with a pink floral pattern and a lime green shawl overtop. She has her eyes closed in an open-mouthed smile. In her hands is a brown flower pot, holding a large six-petaled pink flower. Behind her are large containers holding many multicolored six-petaled flowers. Text: “Mom - Rosalyn Stargazer”

The fourth polaroid: Jaymee Boyd. She is a young woman with light skin, long purple hair in a ponytail, and aqua green eyes behind round glasses. She is wearing a blue hoodie with a lavender directional pad graphic on the front. She is holding an original model Game Boy in her hands, playing a game and glaring down at it with a concentrated determination. The background features a grey wall and a slightly greenish sky with cloud cover. Text: “Jaymee Boyd”

The fifth polaroid: Kanti Bora, an OC meant to be Kamal Bora’s twin sister. She obviously has a strong resemblance to Kamal, but with short dark hair with red-dyed bangs. She is wearing a blue jacket, a maroon choker collar, a grey tshirt, black fingerless gloves, green cargo pants, a maroon belt with a gold buckle, and a silver chain attached to her belt loop. She is waving at the camera, one hand on her hip, her eyes closed and smiling wide. There is a short brick wall behind her, as well as a tree and a sunset sky. Text: “Kanti Bora”

The sixth polaroid: Dr. Ava Glass, an OC who resembles Dr. Boris Habit by matter of sheer (in-universe) coincidence. She is a tall woman with reddish-pink skin, pink eyes, purple lipstick, and long violet hair in a ponytail. She is wearing a teal newsboy-style cap with a blue brim and a lily-of-the-valley decoration, a teal peacoat with a pink collar and cuffs, a pink turtleneck sweater, and red-violet gloves. She has a hand up in a pensive manner, and looking to the right with concern. Parts of her are transparent, with a bright pink light where her eye would be in the transparent bits. The background is a gradient of purple and pink. Text: “Ava Glass”

The seventh polaroid: Ashish “Ash” Bora, an OC meant to be Kamal Bora’s youngest brother. He somewhat resembles Kamal with long dark hair in a ponytail and a goatee beard. He is wearing a grey beanie hat, a red hooded jacket with white trim and hood, and a blue tshirt over a grey button-up. He is smiling and has both hands pointing outward. Behind him is a pale yellow wall, a bookshelf with multicolored books arranged on them, and a Star Wars poster featuring the character Darth Vader that is partially obscured by Ash’s head. Text: “Ashish Bora”

The eighth polaroid: Marcy Coltraine, Ash’s wife. She is a fat woman with freckled light skin, pale blue eyes behind green square glasses, and blonde hair in an updo with a lime green hair clasp and a green barette pinning back her bangs. She is wearing a green turtleneck shirt and a lighter green short sleeved sweater with lime green trim. She is sticking her pale blue tongue out and holding up her hand in a peace sign. The background behind her is a gradient of pink, purple, and blue. Text: “Marcy Coltraine”

The ninth and final polaroid: Theodore “Teddy” Shelley, Cosmos’s college roommate and eventual partner. He is a young man with blue skin, golden freckles, and shoulder-length beige-grey hair. He is wearing a light blue button-up with the sleeves rolled up, and a blue and yellow sweater vest. He has one hand behind his head and is smiling nervously. The background features a green and blue wall with a narrow yellow stripe painted horizontally across the middle. Part of the text on the polaroid frame is covered by white corrective strips, indicating something else was there before it was replaced. Text: “Theodore Shelley”

End ID.]

[justhereforseverus]

A Rose by any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet

Miserable_toad

Chapter 15: A tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury.Summary:

You and Severus spent an intimate night together and he seems to open up to you more and more. The morning comes with a rude awakening and you can't hide your frustration with Dumbledore anymore.

Notes:

This took AGES. I’m so so sorry. Partly, because life is.. strange. Also due to my complete inability to write anything smut related. Sorry for the cringe in advance. There’s also fluff in there. And angst. Basically, a full package.

As always, thank you so much for reading, for your kudos and comments! :3 Comments are always appreciated.

Chapter Text:

We went through the empty hallways, down the staircases to the dungeons. When we stepped into his office, he locked the door behind us and led me to the fire. I sat on the couch after I had hung my jacket to a nearby hanger and put off my high heels. I could see that Severus carefully removed the handkerchief with the lily, looked at in thought for some moments and then put it on a small table near the couch, before going to the kitchen to get some tea. He came back, offered me a cup and then sat beside me. He was still smiling while putting his arm around me. I felt so warm and glowing with love and happiness. I sighed happily and put my hand on his knee. I asked him: “That handkerchief is pretty. Why a lily though? I know they are flowers of purity and virtue but seems very specific.”

His eyebrows furrowed and he drew in a long breath before saying: “…I bought it on a wimp many years ago. As a reminder.”

“Of what?” Wait, maybe I shouldn’t pry into this….I quickly added: ”You don’t have to tell me further. Just...”

He interjected: “No, it’s fine. Remus didn’t tell you anything about Lily Evans then?” I shook my head. “She was.. IS James Potter’s wife and I’m sure you’ve heard that name before.” – he said with a rather dismissive undertone.

“Yes, I think I’ve seen a picture of him in the Daily Prophet at some point because he was promoted or something? He was the guy who defeated Voldemort. I think Remus and Sirius are also friends of him. He lives in the US, doesn’t he?”

Severus nodded weakly: “I think so, yes. Lily and I.. We’ve been childhood friends, neighbours in a way. Went to Hogwarts together. I… liked her… a lot. She broke contact at some point. She was justified in doing that. I was an idiot but it still hurts.”

I think I’ve started to understand..in the end I commented “We all were idiots when we were young.”

“Maybe but I called her a terrible slur and I shouldn’t. Especially, because she was trying to help me when her precious future husband and a certain Mr. Black had me hanging from my ankles in the air.”

Oh Sirius… what an idiotic bully you’ve been. I only replied: “Ouch….you didn’t deserve that.”

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t but it’s not like anyone but her cared. It doesn’t matter now. I know I did wrong. I know I was at fault. She never spoke another word to me after that and it’s fine. It’s long over now. I bought it to remind me of not doing that mistake again. But I don’t think I need that reminder anymore. At least, I hope so.”

“What.. slur was it?”

“You know.. mudblood, which in retrospective was pretty stupid. Thinking about the fact that I’m a half-blood myself.” - he said with a tired smile.

I gasped: “The head of Slytherin a half-blood?! Wow Salazar must turn in his grave.” I chuckled. “The person obsessed with pure-blood ideology has someone so brilliant and beautiful as a leader, who isn’t fulfilling his first requirement of ‘good’ wizards.” I kissed him on the cheek.

He smiled again,“That’s a secret though. Don’t tell my students.”

“But you’re the change they might need. So never tell me you’re useless again. And we’ve all said things that in retrospect were… shit. Like really shitty. We regret and learn from them. Some people forgive us and see our growth.. others don’t. In the end she married a bully so I guess she changed together with him, too. It’s sad she didn’t give you another chance though.”

Sadness cloudes his features: “I think I was always difficult to handle, especially back in those days. It was difficult to fit in a house that was full of rich and arrogant purebloods. But yes, you’re right. We’ve all changed, I hope. That’s the difference. In the end, it’s ok.. I think. I don’t look for her anymore, haven’t for years.” He exhaled and pulled me closer to me before adding cheekily: “I have to disagree with one point though, I don’t think Salazar would be particularly interested in the looks of his followers.”

I puffed: “Hello?! Have you seen his portrait?! He was certainly obsessed with his own looks. That cloak is extremely fancy and his pose so over the top.”

Severus laughed and I was relieved to see him happy again. Though, I had the desire to be closer to him now, to do more. With an unexpected rush of bravery, I saddled him on the couch. His eyes widened with surprised. I started to kiss him, softly at first but then more passionately. I could feel his hands wandering over my knees and thighs up to my back. I also wandered with my kisses to his neck until I could feel his hands tightening on my dress and an ever so quite moan escape from his lips. I liked hearing the ever so tight and controlled professor in a weaker position. But before I could expand on this new experience, he flipped me on my back in a swift movement and positioned himself between my legs regaining control. Unfortunately, the couch was a bit too short for that and we had to take care not to fall to the floor. He laughed and smiled, his face over mine, his long black hair falling softly around me. He said: “I think, we should continue this in a more comfortable environment.” I nodded, and to my surprise he carried me up in his arms like a bride to the bedroom. He cautiously laid me on the bed, continued his position from before and started kissing me passionately. I was completely lost. He smelled so nice and I loved feeling his weight on me, his hips on mine, his hands that slowly wandered down my sides. At some point my dress really started to bother me though. I couldn’t reach the zipper on the back like this nor was my wand in close proximity. So, I whispered: “My dress... Could you..”

“I understand.” He said and got to the side. I sat up and he helped me out of the dress by pulling the zipper down. I rather awkwardly moved out of it and he started kissing me on my neck and shoulders and I melted. He put his arms around me and tightly pulled me to his chest. “Oh, Severus – what are you doing with me?” I said softly with a shaking voice. He replied by whispering in my ears: “Let me worship you, darling.” And his hands wandered down to my bra, unlocking it, while getting rid of his shirt and pants. He leaned over me and I took a good look at him. He was mesmerising. I could see some scars on his hips and chest and made a mental note of asking him about them later but for the moment… I was enchanted and just drowned in his eyes. He looked like he felt the same before diving into another series of deep kisses. I could feel his hands on my chest, exploring, sending shivers to my core. His kisses wandering down and down, until he kissed the inside of my thighs, looking at me for consent. I nodded and he made me truly feel worshipped with his tongue and fingers until I fell apart. But I wanted more. He moved up to my mouth again to kiss me, removed his underpants and mine before lying on me. He gave a last questioning look before I confirmed again and then pushed deep. I could hear him panting, moaning quietly, a deep and holy sound in my ear, while he moved inside of me and my mind went blank with passion. Everything was just feeling, a fire moving between us until we both reached the peak.

Sweating and panting we laid in the darkness. I put my head on his naked chest and he ran his fingers through my hair before saying: “I…. sorry.. I feel like I can’t speak properly right now but.. shower maybe?” I answered with a heartily yes.

His bathroom was painted green and black and the walls were windows looking unto the Hogwarts lake. It felt like being under water as fish and other creatures swam by. Severus explained to me that the walls are not see through from the other side. He admitted, it’s weird at the beginning to get used to it. It was kinda cool though. Like showering in the sea. We went under the shower and the warm water felt fantastic. He pulled me close to him again and kissed me caringly.

When we went back to bed we just cuddled and I laid my head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat while he ran his fingers through my hair. After he sighed contentedly, he whispered: “I’ve never had such a pleasant Yule Ball night. Usually I leave the ball room early, punish some student couples who hide outside to do their frivolous activities and then go to bed early.”

“Oh, these nasty students” I laughed: “But yes, I agree. Thank you for the wonderful evening.” He kissed me again and after we talked for a little bit further we both fell into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning, I felt myself rather reluctant to do anything. In the end, most staff and students would probably sleep out their hangover, so this Saturday was intentionally left without events. Severus seemed to feel the same. He woke up earlier than I did but brought the breakfast on a big dinner tray to bed. He was very cute, sitting in his pyjamas with legs crossed on his bed, eating a croissant carefully over his plate. I took a sip from my orange juice and said: “I somehow didn't see you as the type to eat breakfast in bed.”

He smirked and scoffed: “Oh, what should I do then? Sitting on the fully set table, smoking a pipe and reading the newspaper every morning?”

“Would be very stylish indeed.”

“No. As reserved as I am, I rather don’t have breakfast at all or like that really. My family didn’t have a breakfast tradition anyway. I was glad to get a slice of toast on the way out on some days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that… though I often don’t have breakfast, too. I’m very bad in getting out of bed. It was different during my childhood though. My parents insisted on the morning ritual. I’m sorry to hear you that you didn't Is that the reason why you don’t talk much about your family?”

His expression dulled while he replied: “My parents were poor, my father was an incompetent and very angry fool. My mother suffered much. There is not much to say. It’s a boring story.” He shrugged. I told him that, independent of that, it’s part of him and I wanted to know if he wants to share. He told me afterwards that they died a couple of years ago and I said my condolences. He replied sharply: “Don’t be. It was probably the best for both of them. Though I’d wished I could have told my father what an asshole he is. I’ll never forget what he did to my mother in his rage.” I didn’t want to press further but it was certainly good to see him opening up bit after bit. He looked thoughtfully towards the ceiling.

A bell rang and disrupted our peace. Severus went to the door and told me to stay in the bedroom. He put on a morning gown and left. I could hear Filch speaking through the door: “I can’t find her. Her room is destroyed and Dumbledore sent me to you. Do you know where she is?”

Severus replied cold and distant:“...I do. Go to Dumbledore, we all meet up in his office.”

Severus explained to me that there was another break in. This time not in my classroom but my office. They were unable to break the spell protecting my private quarters but my office was turned upside down. Books destroyed, desk in half.. it was a sight. When I was standing in the middle of my destroyed office surrounded by Filch, Albus, Minerva, Sprout and Flitwick, I couldn’t hold in my anger anymore: “How did they even come here?! I thought Hogwarts was so protected?! You promised me that it wouldn’t happen again?!” I yelled in anger. I was frustrated and unreasonable and frankly, I didn’t care.

Dumbledore said in an overly calming tone, which kinda annoyed me: “They must have help from the Ravenclaw house” – here Flitwick looked to the floor ashamed – “The portrait hasn’t reported anyone not being a student of her house coming in but there are ways to conceal oneself. At least the protection on your private quarters worked. Of course, there is also a possibility that they didn’t want to go that far just to intimidate someone.” The headmaster got closer to me, grapped my shoulders in a comforting gesture before saying: “I’m sorry that happened. I truly am. I promise you we’ll find a solution and a punishment for the perpetrators. But if they were only students. they must have some help from someone who knows how to get around these spells. This isn’t taught at Hogwarts.”

I was devastated: “So, what?! It doesn’t matter! We knew who it was that did this to my classroom. What will you do now, headmaster? This has to end!”

“I know” – he said. “I’ll do my best. I’ll talk to him personally. To son and father. I’m sorry.” – he said sadly and turned away from me. That wasn’t as satisfying for me as it should be. I was disappointed and still angry. Minerva interjected before I could say more: “I don’t feel good with you returning to your quarters, darling. Maybe you should stay somewhere else for the time being. I wouldn’t feel safe knowing that someone was so close to my bed. Albus, you really have to consider that this was a direct attack on all of us. Please.” She petted my shoulders and looked at me with a pleading half-smile. I couldn’t be mad at her and she was right. I’d feel unsafe sleeping here for the time being.

“She stays with me.” – Severus interrupted sharply. Everyone looked at him and didn’t dare to challenge him on that proposition.

“Very well, Severus” – Dumbledore replied before adding “Under the proposition that Professor [y/n] wants that, too.” I nodded “yes, that’s fine with me. Thank you, Severus. I’m sure they won’t dare to break into your office.”

“And if they do, they’ll see what messing with me really means this time”, Severus said while looking closely at Dumbledore.

[bee-the-runaway]

Intro Template

HOLD! WHO GOES THERE? WHY, IS THAT [Beatrice “Bea” Stoneward] THE [princess] OF [House Stoneward]? THEY DO LOOK [naive] FOR A [woman] OF [21] YEARS. DON’T THEY CALL [her] THE [kind AND generous]? I’VE HEARD THEY’RE ALSO [anxious AND emotional] THOUGH. DON’T TAKE MY WORD FOR IT BUT THEY DO LOOK AN AWFUL LOT LIKE [Lili Reinhart].

Basic Info

NAME: Beatrice “Bea” Stoneward

PRONUNCIATION: Bee-a-triss Stone-ward

TITLE (IF THEY HAVE ONE, OCCUPATION IF NOT): Dragon Rider of the Dragon’s Order.

AGE: 21

PLACE OF ORIGIN: Glasswater Palace

FAMILY MEMBERS: Josefin Stoneward, Adaline Stoneward, Three other older brothers.

Physical Description

HEIGHT: 5’5”

HAIIR COLOR: Blonde

EYE COLOR: Blueish Green

GENDER: Female

BUILD: Somewhat curvy

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES? (SCARS, TATTOOS, PIERCINGS): pierced earlobes.  

ANY HEALTH RELATED ISSUES?: Bea has an intense degree of anxiety which affects her in a variety of ways.  

Personality

Beatrice would describe herself as a coward, overly emotional and generally quite weak. She is, fundamentally pretty self loathing which has only really gotten worse since she’d been on her own. She is tormented by her fear and shame, she ran away from home because she was scared to fight in the military, because she saw her death in the lights. Despite having a power that could be used to help her people she ran and kept it hidden, afraid of what kind of responsibility would be levelled on her. Bea gets caught up in the what ifs of any situation and her escape from her home is no exception. The young lady is constantly thinking and worrying about being a runaway, mostly about how she’s made things difficult for people and not nearly enough out how she’s endangered herself.  

Bea lives a very solitary life which was hard for her to adjust to, being used to having the comforts of a princess. She still finds life in her little cottage in the woods very difficult but she is committed to making it work. In the Northland forest, she’s faced hard winters and has cried oceans of tears but she’s also laughed and has experienced a calm peace few ever get to. Away from the pressures of the castle her Photokenisis had gotten stronger and her real world application of farming and the natural world has gotten better as well. Truthfully, Bea is a lot stronger than she gives herself credit for and when she decides to help someone who winds up at her home she will not rest until she either fails or succeeds.  

Beatrice is dreamy, non confrontational with a great deal of potential. She has much she believes she needs to redeem herself for and is deeply concerned for the wellbeing of others.

Additional Info

I would like to see her status as a missing princess be revealed and/or exploited. She ran away to avoid danger so it seems appropriate that decision land her in heaps of it. Her life being put in jeopardy would be her greatest fear, probably because of the deep reverence she has for all life. As the youngest princess she’s always felt like an extra, someone more unimportant and maybe that plays into her underestimating her importance to others. On the flip side, it would be nice to see her reconnect with people from her past, to see her have to face the selfish harm she’s caused or to be confronted with the fact that people always cared for her and maybe she just was too afraid to see it.

Primarily I would like to see her working hard in her little cottage to save people’s lives. The people she meets might be traders, dragon riders, rebellion members, travellers, really anyone. Maybe people don’t need her help and are just passing through or maybe she’s trading balms and ointments for her own necessities.

As a powerful mage with a great deal of potential, another mage may try and get her to join the mageasterium. Going to school might be a good development for her.

HMU with any old idea really and I’ll probably be game for some version of it.

History

When Beatrice was a very, very young girl she was very happy. Her home was a palace and she was a princess and she felt free and powerful. She made friends, she was silly and a little adventurous. As a four or five year old she snuck off with a friend one day to climb trees. Neither was practiced at the task but they were eager to try. Up and down they both went, getting bolder and bolder until the unthinkable happened. A branch snapped and little Beatrice watched in horror as her friend fell and hit the ground with a snap and a thud. All uncomplicated happy thoughts were sucked from her, along with the air in her lungs with one strangled gasp.

The little princess rushed other friend’s side. The bone was broken and the was a lot of blood. Her stomach turned and flopped and the sun beat down on them with fervour, she sobbed and she sweat and she held her friend close. Her friend was hurt and it had all been her idea. What if her friend never got better? Did she even have the right to call them a friend after all of this? Her parents, their parents would be so angry. “Please please no!” she sobbed. She was pushed to her emotional limit and something within her cracked, like the glass of an aquarium or a tinted window, it cracked and the light spilled forth. She felt warm, calm, without thinking she placed her hands on her friends broken arm, her eyes were closed, when she opened them again, the arm was healed. The two of them sat there for minutes dumbfounded before finally agreeing never to speak of it again.

From that day on, Bea had a secret, something she carried with great reverence. She didn’t want to be sent away from home and she didn’t want to get in trouble for climbing trees. Her parents gathered that something might be wrong but truthfully, it looked more like she was becoming shyer as opposed to more fearful. She spent more time in the library, reading alone or doing things independently of her siblings. She withdrew and built for herself a world of her own because in the world everyone else lived in, she had a power she didn’t understand or want. If she could heal people, even a little, what kind of responsibility did that give her to use or not to use it? The question was too big for a little girl and she was far too afraid to ask.

The fear only grew when she was ten. Bea began to see things in the light, in sunbeams and reflections, they were visions of her in the military, swords plunged into her chest, in another she was riddled with arrows. In all of them she was surrounded by death and destruction and pain, worst of all she was made to cause it. Her military service loomed in her future, a horrible shadow. Could she ask to be exempt? No, that would only shame her siblings and her parents she was sure, despite how little she knew them by that point she was positive that she would only seem mad. She continued to read and escape as the years rolled by but she knew the books weren’t enough, she would have to escape for real.

She planned her escape for nearly a year, she roamed the palace alone, into the cellars to look for secret passage ways and she managed to find one. Beatrice packed a bag and in the middle of the night she spirited herself away. Through the tunnel she went, then it was days in the forest, hiding from her family, hiding from everyone. She was tired, sick and hungry, she wasn’t used to life without comforts and she did not quickly adjust but by some miracle managed to make it to the Northlands where she found an abandoned cottage deep in the woods.

Everything was so…perfect, finding the one room cottage when and where she did, full of dust and the bones of the previous owner. With tears in her eyes she buried those bones and cleaned what would be her new home. She hoped the previous owner had died with happiness and not loneliness as she feared she might. Days became weeks and then months and she received her first visitor, a traveler looking for a place to stay, with a burn on their hand. Bea was able to help them, as well as the next visitor and soon the word spread of the nameless woods witch with a gift for healing.

Five years have passed since she left her home for another and the wight of her past remains heavy. She lived in luxury for years and couldn’t manage the decency to stand for her people. She didn’t believe in war but she could only see her actions as selfish. As the world twists she begins to think more and more that maybe she has to do something about it…

[minttoy]

Daylight

CHAPTER ONE

Summary: “She spent so much time counting her days. Finally, she sees her future clear as daylight.” - Linhardt helps Lysithea survive more than the war.

Pairings: Linhardt/Lysithea

Click here to read on FF.net.

Click here to read on AO3.

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At the war’s conclusion, Lysithea comes up with the idea to plant daffodils in the monastery greenhouse.

Nothing seems more suitable than the soft, yellow-petal flower meant to symbolize new beginnings. With Edelgard’s new reign, Fódlan is due for a drastic change, including an overhaul of crest-related policies and caste systems. Lysithea can note with some measure of gladness that the value of crests should fall, but more so that the war is finished. No longer will she pay the toll of using two crests in battle.

Admittedly, she never frequented the greenhouse much in her academy days. Most of her free time was spent cooped up in the old and dusty library, or learning new spells. Nowadays, there is little need to return to her studies. She should learn how to garden instead, or cook and bake. Her family will have little to spare due to restoration efforts anyway.

In the greenhouse, the keeper teaches her to pick apart the weeds and suckers from healthy sprouts. She learns how deep to plant her daffodil bulbs, and how to predict which ones will grow. For the first time in her life, she gets on her knees and digs into the dirt. Soil gathers at her fingernails despite wearing gloves, but she doesn’t mind much. They work away in silence, time ticking away unnoticed.

Before long, a knock resounds the room. She glances up to find the green-haired sleepy crest scholar standing at the doorway and stifling a yawn.

“Lysithea? When you have a chance to talk, I would like a moment of your time.”

He sounds tired, but she cannot recall a time when he’s not. Her eyes drop to the leather suitcase sitting at his feet before she tells the greenhouse keeper it’ll only be for a few minutes. She discards her gloves and gives her hands a wash. Linhardt waits patiently, and only pushes himself off the door when she beckons him to follow.

They make the short trek to her room. She leaves the door open because she knows this won’t take long.

He starts off with a sigh. “A while ago, I made a promise to show you the results of my research. It disappoints me so, but as of currently, I have yet to determine a conclusive way to remove your crests.”

Lysithea leans on her desk and looks at him earnestly, even though she expected as much. Wartime left them with little time to indulge in personal matters.

He shakes his head. “…While I am certain it is still possible, I require more time. For now, it remains a work in progress and for that, I am terribly sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” she says, but as far as admonishments go, it’s a gentle one. “You’ve done more than enough. The fact that you went out of your way to research in the first place…well, I’m grateful. I should be thanking you.”

Her words offer little ease to his dissatisfaction, because in truth, Linhardt has always had strong convictions of his own – it just lies dormant behind a façade of laziness and apathy. He tries to prove he doesn’t care, but failure is not an option for him, and he’d be damned if he had to settle for it. In this case, he might have to, and it shows.

She attempts another tack to ease his mind. “Considering the state of the church, there will be little need for crests anyway. I’m certain Edelgard will make it so.”

He gleans nothing from it. “But what of your life? The war has reached its end and your days are still numbered. It hardly seems fair.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

The two of them reach a standstill and she stares at him for a bit, wondering what he’s thinking.

Lysithea doesn’t know how to counter that so she doesn’t. Eventually she shifts her focus.

“I just remembered. I have something for you,” she pipes up, turning to her pack. After some rummaging, she fishes out a small bag of twine. “…I suppose you can consider it a gift, or maybe just something to remember me by.” She offers the bag to him, and he accepts it easier than she expects. “Just a few daffodil bulbs. I know it’s not much, but I had some to spare.”

“Hmm, daffodils. How fitting,” he acknowledges, inspecting it briefly before pocketing it in his coat.

“I know you don’t like getting your hands dirty, but I figure someone else could plant them for you.”

He gets a small laugh out of that one, not offended in the slightest bit. “You know me too well, but know that I appreciate the gesture. I’m afraid I didn’t prepare anything for you in return.”

She shakes her head and dismisses his concern. In retrospect, they’ve come a long way since their academy days. A time when she would, quite literally, run and hide if they passed through the halls. He’d corner her and ask uncomfortable questions. She would fire back rudely, and tell him not to poke his nose where it doesn’t belong. He even tricked her into revealing her secrets in the first place. Empathy wasn’t his strong suit then, but he’s changed for the better.

“Are you leaving?” She gestures to the suitcase at his feet.

His expression sours into a childish pout. “Indeed. As much as I don’t want to return, my father has been summoning me back to the manor since the war ended. It’s rather troublesome, seeing as I’d much prefer to stay here with Professor Hanneman and continue my research.”

She offers a smile. “Maybe you could – one day.”

“Perhaps. In the meantime, I want to request something of you.”

More probing and inquiries. She braces herself out of habit.

“Please write to me every now and then,” he requests, surprising her a bit. “Forgive my bluntness, but your situation is rather…precarious. It would give me great relief to know you’ve made it home safe and sound. If you’re busy, I understand. You could send an empty page and it would suffice.”

She cannot tell if he’s joking. “Will you write back?”

“Well, of course. If I have a breakthrough, how will I let you know otherwise?”

She eyes him suspiciously, but lets it go. This could be the last she’ll see of him. Although she will never admit it out loud, she will miss him. As if coming to the same realization, he exhales deeply and then reaches for his bag.

“Goodbye, Lysithea.”

On his way out, he gently lifts her chin with a finger, tilts her face so she’s looking at him instead of the ground. He scours her features, as if committing them to memory, and then he lets go. Grievance lingers in his eyes as he leaves.

----------

To: Linhardt von Hevring

I write to inform you that I am home safe and sound, just as you asked.

Lysithea von Ordelia

----------

To: Lysithea von Ordelia

Thank you. Do take care of yourself.

Linhardt von Hevring

----------

She’s been home for nearly three months when Marianne pays her a visit. She stays for only four days, but Lysithea wishes it were longer. The nearest town is a three mile walk, which is a long way to go for social conversation. The house is also quiet, just the sounds of crackling fire and creaking floorboards. Even though she doesn’t consider her parents to be dull company, loneliness finds her fast.

Their yard hasn’t been tended to in years, so Lysithea takes it upon herself to remove the shrubs and greenery growing wild and unchecked. She trims them to proper size and weeds the grasses before they grow too large. It’s back-breaking work, she quickly learns, so Marianne’s offer to help is a welcome reprieve.

One day, they commit the long distance walk to town and return with flower and vegetable seeds in their baskets. Lysithea adds to her repertoire and plants more than just daffodils. Marianne teaches her what to do with the trimmed overgrowth – how to arrange bouquets with only shrubs and greens, or how to press petals and leaves onto sheets of parchment.

Once she leaves, Lysithea pens another letter to soothe her loneliness:  

To: Linhardt von Hevring

I understand it’s been a while. Things are going well at home with the exception of one thing: I’m terrible at baking. Rations are difficult to measure. I burned my last attempt at pastries. My dough does not rise enough in the warmer. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. We’ve let go of our kitchen staff to keep afloat, but I miss the cakes and sweets they served at the monastery every Friday.

On a more positive note, I’ve started gardening. With Marianne’s help, I’ve planted honeysuckle shrubs and lilies in our yard. At least that was a success.

Hope all is well with you.

Lysithea von Ordelia 

She slips her best pressed flower into the envelope and sends it off with the town courier.

----------

A package addressed to her name arrives one month later:

To: Lysithea von Ordelia

I will be honest and tell you my situation is rather troublesome. I’ve been forced to help with restoration efforts. As you can guess, I have no willpower to sort out bland paperwork, nor do I have the muscle to assist with repairs. I have argued as much, but reason seems to evade my father.

I have asked a gardener to plant your daffodils. I’ve also been sleeping to catch up on lost time. I have no advice to offer on baking, so feel free to find the answers to your questions in the cookbook I have sent.

Oh, and Edelgard stopped by. She hopes you are well and healthy.

Linhardt von Hevring

----------

To: Linhardt von Hevring

Sleeping, huh? Sounds like you. Don’t forget to eat as you sleep for two days straight. And please send Edelgard my regards when you see her next.

Lysithea von Ordelia 

----------

To: Lysithea

How inconvenient for both of you to make me your messenger. Why not write letters to each other instead? It’s really quite simple.

Linhardt 

----------

To: Linhardt

You can a stubborn pain sometimes, you know that?

Lysithea 

----------

To: Lysithea

Yes, I have been well-informed.

Linhardt 

She crumples the paper in her hands and rolls her eyes at his lackadaisical response. Linhardt is an intellectual, but comes off petty when he wants to be. And yet, in spite of it all, she also misses that part of him. Even after a year’s time, he crosses her mind every week, just to wonder what he’s doing, where he is, and how he’s coping with family affairs.

She mails her response a month later, and deposits it quick before she regrets it:

To: Linhardt

I miss you dearly. Although it is unlikely, I hope we see each other again.

Lysithea 

----------

She waits one month. Two months, and then three.

She gets nothing back. Perhaps the last letter was a mistake.

The town mayor approaches her one day and she forgets it temporarily. Her neighbours know she used to attend Garreg Mach Academy, but what they don’t know is that she helped end the fight against an immaculate demon with origins older than Fódlan itself. She doubts anyone would believe her. Regardless, she’s asked to eliminate the giant wolf beast prowling in the town outskirts.

She accepts the mission mainly for compensation, but she doesn’t expect the struggle that comes with it. She knew eventually how her powers would wane, but she didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

Her miasma comes out in short sprouts and small doses, her swarm is sluggish and her seraphim is difficult to conjure. It might be her lack of practice. In the war, she overused these things until it became second nature. It also didn’t hurt as much. Now, only one day of use and her palms burn, her wrists hurt and her blood pulses unnaturally. Her crests fight for dominance, and she’s lost control of both of them.

She stumbles home that night coughing up blood and sputum. Her body weak and trembling, her mind ravaged with head pains. She’s bedridden for a few days and she’ll lose the battle to her crests if she continues to fight. For now, she wards off magic use indefinitely.

----------

Lysithea is coming down the stairs and hefting a laundry basket higher on her hip when the front door rings. It’s the courier, she thinks, to bring in their daily mail and paper. Dropping her basket, she wipes her hands across her apron and opens the door to a halting shock. He’s definitely not the postman she was expecting.

“L-Linhardt?”

He smiles at her, too casual for her liking, and follows up with a lazy hand wave. “Morning, Lysithea.”

Her shock morphs into disbelief. She sneaks a quick glance into the living room, where her parents are sorting out paperwork, and she lowers her voice to a hissing whisper. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m here to resume my research, of course,” he says so nonchalantly, as if it’s obvious.

She makes a quiet, but exasperated noise. His aloofness is less than helpful. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He looks at her strange. “Oh. Is this the first time you’re hearing this? I thought I informed you, or perhaps I forgot.”

“You forgot?” she repeats after him, raising her voice a little.

He puts a hand to his chin and thinks back several months prior. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t put it past myself, and it does sound like something I would do…I suppose it would also explain your lack of response.”

Lysithea drops her face into one hand and drags it all the way down. “Linhardt, I haven’t heard from you in months.”

He sighs and puts on his most sincere expression. “How callous of me. Please accept my apologies. I’ve spent the last few months at the monastery actually. It’s kept me awfully busy, but I needed to pick up a few supplies and research material from Professor Hanneman’s office.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at home?”

“Oh, goodness no,” he says, repulsed by the thought of it. “I renounced my noble claim months ago. I’ve been released from duty, and figured I should try being a scholar instead. Clearly, I’m not fit to do much else, nor am I particularly interested.”

She bites her tongue and cools her rage. It occurs to her suddenly that he’s come to help her. She doesn’t even want to imagine what other sacrifices he’s made in order to be here.

“I will require your consent, of course,” he pipes up, sparking her curiosity. “As you know, my goal is to develop a safe process in which we can remove your crests, and for that I would also need your active participation.”

She figured as much. And while hesitation rings in her mind and heart – by now she’s already come to terms with her shortened lifespan – some part of her still clings on to hope, desperate and foolish as it might seem. Strange enough, it’s almost easier to be blissfully ignorant and think it impossible.

“Umm, I…” she starts, fingers worrying and fiddling with the ends of her sleeves. His gaze is patient and sincere, and the conviction written on his face makes her want to believe. She supposes she would be stupid to refuse. “…Okay.”

“Okay?” he echoes with uncertainty.

She nods once. “Okay. I consent.”

He smiles. “Wonderful. To be honest, if you had refused, I would find myself in a very awkward and unfortunate situation.”

She’s about to dig in and ask what exactly prompted him to come all this way – goddess knows Linhardt is rarely motivated by anything – when the sound of footsteps draw near.

“Lysithea, dear? Who are you speaking to?”

Her mother enters the room and Lysithea prepares for the inevitable. Linhardt shoots her a look, silently asking if she prefers to make the introduction. She would, of course, because knowing him, he would go about it in the most nonchalant way possible, as if liberating someone from a cruel fate is no big deal.

----------

He’s invited for dinner that night.

As she helps with meal preparation, Lysithea quickly cuts and shoots down any suspicion that he’s seeking courtship. He is here for research and requires her help. They are nothing more than former classmates. They also don’t need to house him, seeing as he’s already made his own accommodations at the town inn.

Linhardt arrives at approximately sunset, dressed in warmer robes. As he parks his horse at the front, she observes him more carefully. His hair is tied half-up and half-down, but it’s wavy and loose now. On the other hand, his features are still as delicate and pretty as she remembers. He seems relatively optimistic, but she holds on to her doubts.

Unfortunately, the dinner doesn’t go as well as she hopes.

The two of them do their best to explain the nature of their relationship. He explains his desire to help her, and then proceeds tells them in the most humanizing way possible that she is his subject. Lysithea observes carefully, and finds a growing fear and apprehension hidden in her parents’ eyes; all of this is sounding an awful lot like the initial experimentations. She knows it’s not his fault, but the mere notion of crests and blood and transfusions can trigger the horrific experiences.

To spare them the atrocious memories, she puts a hand on Linhardt’s knee and stops him from explaining the process any further. It might not even help, because the damage is already done and the conversation has taken a turn. The atmosphere is tense and almost unbearable. For a split second, she wonders if she is foolish to hope.

She changes the topic then, going back to happier memories untouched by war. Their favourite professors, classes and days at the academy. None of it helps their cause, but she does it anyway.

When the sun sets, Linhardt thanks them for dinner and politely excuses himself, explaining he should return to the inn before the night turns pitch black. Lysithea throws on a coat and follows after him, if only to escape the stiff atmosphere lingering in their dining room.

“I’m sorry if I made a poor impression,” he says with sincerity.

She watches idly as he prepares his horse, her mind heavy and deep in thought. “It’s not your fault. I should have saw it coming. My parents…well, let’s just say the world hasn’t given them much reason to be hopeful.”

He raises a brow at her words. “That would explain their skepticism.”

She sighs and nods in agreement. “Don’t be discouraged by it.”

Linhardt just shakes his head. “Of course not. All the more reason to remove your crests, actually. That’s how I see it, at least.”

She focuses on the dirt ground, wondering if he’s oblivious to the confusion that clouds her mind when he says things like that. After a while, he pats the mare and deems her ready to go.

He must be tired, having travelled from Garreg Mach to Ordelia territory the past few days, so she doesn’t keep him for long. Knowing Linhardt, he needs as much sleep as he can get. Before he leaves, he plants a kiss on her cheek – his own way of telling her to keep faith.

Suddenly there’s a knot in her chest she can’t quite explain.

“For now, I only ask that you trust me,” he says softly.

Her expression softens and loses its edges. “Okay.”

----------

[retvenkos]

“i am flawless, thank you for noticing”

requested

HOW I IMAGINE THE PHYSICAL APPEARANCE OF THE NEXT GEN. HARRY POTTER CHARACTERS...

Teddy Lupin

okay, so teddy is very tall - like 6′2 (188 cm)

also, their hair is pretty magical

it’s usually blue but when victoire kisses them it turns pink also, like i said earlier, it perpetually sticks up in the back, and it curls around their ears

brown eyes

and i headcanon a latino! remus lupin, so teddy has some really clear, tanned skin

Victoire Weasley

so homegirl is part veela, so we know she’s really pretty but not the prettiest - louis holds that spot

she’s like a carbon copy of her mom, but with a couple of differences

she has freckles all over her arms and a bit on her face

really long, blonde hair that holds a curl really nice

she’s also pretty tall, i’m thinking around 5′11 (180 cm)

that doesn’t stop her from wearing heels though

Lysander Scamander

so i have already mentioned that he has kinda curly light brown hair and big blue eyes

i also mentioned that this boy has a serious freckle problem

but don’t worry fam, he can make it work

his hair is on point most of the time, always styled and it looks effortless even though he probably spends a decent amount of time on it

he’s probably like 5′9 (175 cm)

Lorcan Scamander

blue eyes and dirty blonde hair that is longer - he can pull it into a tiny bun and dominique definitely is the one who does it for him all the time

doesn’t actually have any freckles on his face, just on his back, arms, and legs

his nose is slightly crooked - you can tell it used to be really straight but then he broke it twice playing quidditch and once because lysander threw a book at him when he was being annoying, you know, like brothers do

5′9 (180 cm)

Dominique Weasley

has really clear skin, and a cute button nose

shoulder length blonde hair and hazel-ish eyes that go from bright green to brown

shorter than the rest of her siblings at 5′6 (168 cm)

she is really pretty too (i mean, have you seen her parents) but she usually tends to downplay it rather than perpetuate it like her sister

but she frequently experiments with her hairstyles and looks good with literally everything

wonderful face shape

Molly Weasley II

cheekbones that could kill a man

a reddish brown bob with hazel eyes

a small nose that’s kinda pointy

she definitely has a widow's peak

5′3 (160 cm)

Louis Weasley

 a blonde with really bright blue eyes

he’s around 5′8 (173 cm) which makes victoire the tallest something she mentions on the daily

he definitely has bigger lips that he’s kind of insecure of, but literally, everyone loves them

his nose is a long one and his skin is very clear

Fred Weasley II

so we all know this boy has amazing dark skin because he looks so much like his mother

his hair is curly and red and so help him god, if you do not ask before touching it, it will be the last thing you ever touch

deep brown eyes that are set behind his glasses

his facial expressions are all george though

5′8 (173 cm)

oof

James Sirius Potter

so i’ve already mentioned his god awful hair and his hazel eyes

it’s dark brown, btw

and like, he’s short. like, 5′5 (165 cm) short

albus will make fun of him so hard.

he’s one of those kids who always looks like they could be up to something when he’s honestly just thinking about chicken nuggets???

his hair - once he grows into it - is an effortlessly messy but beautiful look and literally, everyone (except fred) is jealous of it

green eyes (it’s a potter curse)

also - dimples

Albus Severus Potter

so he has the darkest, jet black hair. 

he keeps it nice and tidy and actually tries to look put together so that people will remember him for something other than having the name of people who died

he doesn’t want to ride on the coattails of anyone else’s fame - he wants to be his own dude

and we know this boy has some crazy green eyes

like, harry’s eyes were green, but nothing is this green

and our boi was short for a hot minute, but in fourth year he just sprouts

we’re talking a solid 6′0 (183 cm)

he very rarely ever stands up straight tho, so whenever he does it’s really intimidating

Rose Granger-Weasley

okay, so being the daughter of ron - the most freckled of the weasleys (fite me on this) - this girl has some freckle issues

like, you could split her freckles onto three separate people and you would say that they had a lot

furthermore, she has some wonderfully curly, dark brown hair

the only difference is that it’s not too frizzy, which hermione was so happy about she almost cried

(she still has issues getting her hair to be tamed)

our girl is about 5′4-5′5 (163-165 cm)

also, i headcanon a black! hermione, so our girl has the most beautiful, dark skin

Scorpius Malfoy

first of all, our boy has some sharp cheekbones

be careful albus - you just might cut yourself

but he’s always so polite and smiley that it’s not something that makes him too regal looking

his eyes are a grey-ish blue but are big and so very kind

he has blonde hair like his pops, but it’s less slicked back and severe

he’s overall just softer than his dad but almost a carbon copy

5′7 (170 cm)

Lucy Weasley

light brown hair that has a natural soft wave to it and is super bouncy

round, coke bottle glasses that are actually really cute

they make her brown eyes big and wide

what a sunshine child, she lives in pastels i swear

5′4 (163 cm)

soft features that make you just smile

Hugo Granger-Weasley

we’ve already talked about his curly red hair briefly

but my lord, is it a mess

it bounces all over the place and is kinda long so his bangs kinda fall in his eyes - which are brown and big

honestly, he’s kind of a heartthrob, guys

his freckles are all concentrated on his face, most notably his nose

they would be his defining trait if he wasn’t smiling all the time

he’s lighter than his sister but still has a nice tan to his skin

(and y’all can fight me on this, biracial kids can be a myriad of colors)

he’s a solid 6′0 (183 cm)

Roxanne Weasley

okay, so first of all, homegirl has some long hair

i guess you would call it wavy, but it’s most defining trait is that it is thicc

and it’s jet black and beautiful

eyes?? 10/10 hazel and piercing

and she has all of her mother’s passion behind them

and she’s tall and lanky like her dad

and she is one of the few to be freckleless, but homegirl has enough charisma she doesn’t need any

she’s also taller than her bro, which she’s very proud of - 5′11 (180 cm)

Lily Luna Potter

she has reddish brown hair that’s in a long bob

it’s straight and actually kinda thin

also, she’s taller than james sirius and they make fun of him for his height at every given opportunity - she’s like 5′7 (170 cm)

carries on the potter legacy with green eyes

a lot of people say she looks like her grandma, lily.

which of course means a sprinkling of freckles

but more so means a kind smile that can turn on you in seconds

AND FLUFF ENSUES. (also, their names are in order of their age in relation to each other, so there’s that)

[bert19900321-blog]

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[galespider]

REALLY  LONG CHARACTER SURVEY - Gale Spider

REALLY  LONG CHARACTER SURVEY. RULES. repost, don’t reblog!  good luck!

TAGGED BY: @the-fallen-creation!!

TAGGING: Anyone who really wants to do this! I don’t want to force anyone who wants to but maybe @ksilberne, @wamoura, @avwalya, @kha-merc-ffxiv, @red-dawnbringer and others!!

This is really long and a bit complicated x _ x So with that, I will stick with doing my main character.

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Gale Spider

NICKNAME: None (Maybe Gaelicat??)

AGE: 24

BIRTHDAY: September 15th

ETHNIC GROUP: Miqo’te, Seeker of the Sun

NATIONALITY: Eorzean

LANGUAGE(S): Miqo’te tongue, Eorzean

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Straight

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Heteroromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: In a relationship

CLASS: Middle

HOMETOWN / AREA: A village located in the Sagolii Desert

CURRENT HOME: Gridania

PROFESSION: Adventurous healer/wiccan for hire

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Blue long straight hair that extends towards the lower back.

EYES: Red with slit pupils from Seeker of the Sun traits.

NOSE: Normal size

FACE: Heart shaped, kind of round.

LIPS: Smooth and full. Shines when in the light, only just a little.

COMPLEXION: Smooth, Pale, a little dry on the skin but mostly soft.

BLEMISHES: None

SCARS: None

TATTOOS: None

HEIGHT: 5′0″

WEIGHT: ??? Unknown

BUILD: Regular hourglass feature.

FEATURES: Slit pupils from Seeker of the Sun and fangs!

ALLERGIES: She might be allergic to dust mites.

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Mostly prefers long hair, would occasionally go for short.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Simper smile to those who talk to her in a conversation. Looks innocent at first glance. Just don’t irritate her.

USUAL CLOTHING: Just any dresses that look really cute on her. She would mostly wear a red bindi from her mother and a spider lily hair accessory. Healing attire that also catches her eyes. She’s mostly broad on what she wears. In her casual moments, she would wear something that relates to “upper class” but maintains her casual side.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR(S): Loosing those closest to her. Irrational fears would be bugs. She also fears of being left alone.

ASPIRATION(S): To help those in need of healing and help with those injured either mentally or physically.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Semi-outgoing, always puts a smile to reassure that everything is alright. The one to start conversations.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Could get irritated easily, may have a sailor’s mouth if someone pushes her buttons. She could get impatient.

ZODIAC: Virgo

TEMPERAMENT: Phlegmatic

SOUL TYPE(S): Healer (Soul Crystal?? White Mage)

ANIMALS: Owl

VICE  HABIT(S): Staying and overworking overnight taking care of the injured

FAITH: The Twelve 

GHOSTS?: Yes

AFTERLIFE?: We will see

REINCARNATION?: Maybe??

ALIENS?: Yes

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: N.A

ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: Does not want to tell

SOCIO POLITICAL POSITION: N.A

EDUCATION LEVEL: College intelligence but doesn’t show it strongly. 

FAMILY

FATHER: Unknown, alive (Will figure out one day)

MOTHER: Unknown, alive (Will figure out one day)

SIBLINGS: Kira Setsuna

EXTENDED FAMILY: None. Although maybe three more older siblings.

NAME MEANING(S): Gale came from my favorite element, wind. Spider is based off of Spider from Megaman X: Command Mission.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: She has Wiccan blood running through her coming from her mother, who resided in Gridania. She may have Keeper of the Moon traits, but being born in the desert made her a Seeker of the Sun.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Any fiction ranging from witches, warlocks, romantic novels.

MOVIE: Rarely watches any.

5 SONGS: ... I am just gonna link it here http://galespider.tumblr.com/post/149340915708/character-name-music

DEITY: Oschon the Wanderer

HOLIDAY: Loooves Starlight festivities (Christmas)

MONTH: October

SEASON: Autumn

PLACE: Zenith, Gridania, The Peaks

WEATHER: Breezy and calm bright weather

SOUND: Birds chirping early in the morning

SCENT(S): Herbs of all kind, the smell of orchids

TASTE(S): Minty, warm tea

FEEL(S): Soft wool fabric, soft fluffy things

ANIMAL(S): Owls, Small birds

NUMBER: 6

COLORS: Red and Blue. Sometimes Green

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Would like to dance one day, good decent measure of voice for singing

BAD AT: Looking out for herself. Keeping to herself, over-helping others to the point that others might be annoyed.

TURN ONS: Would rather not say ;)

TURN OFFS: No thank you.

HOBBIES: Reading, making herbal remedies, doodle, 

TROPES:  Off-into-the-Distance Ending, World of Symbolism, Girl Friday

AESTHETIC TAGS: Dress, fabric, wool, herbs, cabin, candles, fun witch, wiccan, healer, crystals, stones, mushrooms, fantasy critters, spider lilies, autumn, flowers, potions, forest, sunrise

GPOY  QUOTES: (... What?)

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC(S): Herself

ALT FC(S): N/A

OLDER FC(S): Here

YOUNGER  FC(S): N/A (I should have drawn more of her little)

VOICE CLAIM(S): Christina Vee,  Kaori Mizuhashi

GENDERBENT FC(S): Here c: 

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: IF YOU COULD WRITE YOUR CHARACTER YOUR WAY IN THEIR OWN MOVIE, WHAT WOULD IT BE CALLED, WHAT STYLE WOULD IT BE FILMED IN, AND WHAT WOULD IT BE ABOUT?:

Anything that involves Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit. Something that makes Gale travel to different places with conflicts, drama, funny moments, and the likes with her friends and her brother.

Q2: WHAT WOULD THEIR SOUNDTRACK / SCORE SOUND LIKE?:

I am really lazy. But just look at the 5 songs mentioned. x_X Above ^^^

Q3: WHY DID YOU START WRITING THIS CHARACTER?:

She along with my other characters are from FFXIV. And somehow, FFXIV gave me that amount of ideas to write or think about their backgrounds and how they meet people.

Q4: WHAT FIRST ATTRACTED YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?:

The way I created them in character creation in FFXIV. But Krowell Au Ra was literally ripped off from Ayanami from 07 Ghost.

Q5: DESCRIBE THE BIGGEST THING YOU DISLIKE ABOUT YOUR MUSE:

I can’t really say I would hate them. 

Q6: WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN COMMON WITH YOUR MUSE?:

A lot, actually. She and I mostly or practically share the same personality.

Q7: HOW DOES YOUR MUSE FEEL ABOUT YOU?:

She would definitely be disappointed if she sees me procrastinate in life.  But at the same time, she would probably understand that life takes just one step at a time no matter how hectic it may be.

Q8: WHAT CHARACTERS DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE INTERESTING INTERACTIONS WITH?

She has interesting interactions with my other characters. http://galespider.tumblr.com/post/177796279983/my-final-fantasy-xiv-characters-gale-spider-from

If it was Gaoithe Sagittus, she would tease him and love him since they are both in a relationship with each other. Krowell, would be sort of difficult since they would both not see eye to eye. But Gale is willingly able to open conversations with him as time goes on, and they finally and slowly get along. Raksha, was extremely difficult since he was a PoW. Due to his unstable mind by being used as a weapon, he acts almost innocent, childish but scared around people who approach him. Gale is able to break his barrier by taking care of him and is able to talk to him, although not with difficult speech.

Q9: WHAT GIVES YOU INSPIRATION TO WRITE YOUR MUSE?:

FFXIV!! That’s all I have to say!!

Q10: HOW LONG DID THIS TAKE YOU TO COMPLETE?:

Quite a while ... But it was really fun to do at the same time! Sorry for my short answers!

[bbclesmis]

Sydney Morning Herald: Lily Collins on outshining dad Phil and her new blockbuster role

Lily Collins is in a good place right now, the best place, perhaps, in her quietly glittering career. The British-American actor, 29, has the sort of resumé – movie star, fashion icon, proper published author – that might make her an object of envy were she not so grounded, so very relatable. But it's her forthcoming, wildly praised role as Fantine, that oh-so-tragic young factory worker, in a six-part BBC adaptation of Victor Hugo's famed 1862 novel, Les Misérables, that looks set to send her stratospheric.

"It's a role I've been preparing for all my life," says Lily, hazel eyes dancing under big, beautiful brows. "I mean, I read the book at school" – that's Harvard-Westlake School in Los Angeles – "but if I had known I was going to play Fantine one day, I would definitely have paid more attention!"

“It’s the things that make you different that end up making you unique.”

She gives a smile. "Fantine drives the story at the beginning and her essence and memory continue throughout the series. To me she represents everlasting hope in times of darkness, no matter what the time period."

There have been several versions of Les Misérables, of course, the most famous being the musical that is still playing on Broadway and in London's West End, and the similarly sung-through 2012 movie starring Hugh Jackman and Russell Crowe, with Anne Hathaway as Fantine.

A sweet-natured grisette (young, working-class Frenchwoman), Fantine's seduction by an older student, the charming cad Felix (Johnny Flynn in the BBC series), results in her falling pregnant and struggling to survive as a single mother. Conned by her child's carers, destitute and desperate, she falls on hard times. Fantine is an iconic character, and one that miniseries director Tom Shankland encouraged Lily to make her own.

"Tom told me to forget every other Les Mis I'd seen and just go back to the writing," says Lily of this song-free version, scripted by Andrew Davies (who wrote the US version of House of Cards) and is delivered in plain-spoken, vowel-dropped English despite the epic backdrop of 19th-century France (or Belgium masquerading as France) at a time of civil unrest.

"We were encouraged to bring a fresh take, to breathe life into a song lyric and make it an episode," she continues in her soft American twang. "Not everybody loves musicals. So where Fantine has a line in one of her songs that mentions her falling in love, now we get to see how it happened."

Lily is here at BAFTA (British Academy of Film and Television Arts) in central London for the premiere of Les Misérables, the cast of which includes David Oyelowo, Dominic West and Olivia Colman. It's raining outside, but Lily – standing reed-slim in an ultra-tight sparkling minidress ("It's going to be tricky for me to sit down") – oozes the sunniness of California, where she has been based since the age of five, having moved there from England following her parents' divorce. The daughter of former Genesis drummer (and later singer) Phil Collins and his American second wife, Jill Tavelman, Lily might easily have fast-tracked her ascent by trading on her surname.

She hasn't, which makes her success all the sweeter. "I am super proud of my dad," she has said of her hit-maker father, who has five children by his three ex-wives (and who recently toured Australia). "But I wanted to do it on my own. People assume it's easier when you have that name but if you're the kind of person who doesn't want to use it, it's a lot harder."

Nevertheless, from her first on-screen appearance, aged two, in a BBC series called Growing Pains, Lily's rise seems to have been remarkably smooth. Performing is in her blood, after all: as a young girl she'd watch old Hollywood films, many featuring her maternal grandmother Jane Hale, a ballerina and actress, then dress up to mimic her favourite characters.

She attended the Youth Academy of Dramatic Arts in Los Angeles, taking part in musical theatre productions. She was also a teen columnist for UK magazine Elle Girl, and a socialite whose alabaster beauty caught the eye of Chanel, which dressed her in a gown for a debutante ball that featured in the reality TV show The Hills.

By 2008, Lily was in demand as a model and brand ambassador (she is currently the face of French beauty brand Lancôme) and making a name as a red-carpet correspondent and children's TV presenter. A year later, she featured as a minor character in the American teen drama series 90210 and made her film debut as Sandra Bullock's daughter in the Oscar-nominated The Blind Side.

The scripts started tumbling in, and Lily dropped out of studying broadcast journalism to take supporting roles in an action film and a thriller. In 2012, she starred in Mirror Mirror as a sword-wielding Snow White opposite Julia Roberts' evil queen.

"So Fantine is not the first time I've played a literary character with opinions," grins Lily, who lobbied for a second audition for Snow White after being unhappy with her first try-out, duly clinching the part.

"I wanted to do it on my own. People assume it's easier when you have that name but if you're the kind of person who doesn't want to use it, it's a lot harder."

There's also been sci-fi (The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones), throwback romantic-comedy drama (Warren Beatty's Rules Don't Apply, which got her a Golden Globe nomination), and the CGI-enhanced Okja, in which she played a young animal activist intent on saving her best (four-legged) friend.

And there was a lead role in the controversial anorexia drama To the Bone. It divided critics but Lily has insisted that it helped her understand her own teenage battle with eating disorders, which she detailed in her 2017 memoir, Unfiltered: No Shame, No Regrets, Just Me.

"It's very rare you get the opportunity to wear shoes you once wore with a different perspective on things," she told Vanity Fair. "This was an amazing opportunity to gain knowledge, and helped me let go a lot."

As did the writing of Unfiltered. Divulging personal information in print is one thing. Doing so when you have a famous dad and 13 million Instagram followers is another. Lily – who wrote every word herself – says she found the process liberating.

"I decided to write the book because I kept reading what people were posting on social media and thinking, 'You're so brave,' " she says. "It was a really difficult thing for me to do, but the feedback I got made it way more rewarding than I expected."

Boyfriends' names were changed in an essay on dating (if rumoured exes Zac Efron and Chris Evans are in there, she's not saying). Silliness is praised as attractive; those eyebrows, which she plucked to thin lines at school, are reclaimed and championed in all their bushy glory. And in an open letter to her father, Lily tells the 67-year-old that she "forgives" him for "not being the dad I expected", and notes the impact that her parents' famously messy divorce had on her teenage years: "I accept and honour the sadness and anger I felt towards the things you did or didn't do," she writes.

Today she'd prefer not to discuss specifics, though offers You'll Be in My Heart from the 1999 Disney animated film Tarzan when asked to choose her favourite Phil Collins song: "He wrote it as a lullaby to me as a kid," she says, re-routing the conversation to Unfiltered and the main reason she set fingers to laptop: to make young people feel less alone. The sentiment dovetails with Lily's advocacy work for charities including Bystander Revolution, an anti-bullying organisation, and the GO Campaign, which raises funds for orphans and vulnerable children.

"Open communication with teenagers is something I'm very passionate about," she says. "Speaking about insecurities and being honest about what you are going through is vital. One young woman asked me, 'But what if you know you're born different, if your quirks and interests aren't the norm? When you're a green apple when everyone else is a red one?'

"I said, 'Well, I've always loved green apples! It's the things that make you different that end up making you unique.' " She pauses for a beat. "So many kids have these deep, thoughtful questions. It doesn't matter what political, religious, sexual-orientation background you come from, we all go through the same insecurities and realising this fact is the beauty of communications."

"It's very rare you get the opportunity to wear shoes you once wore with a different perspective on things"

Additionally, by setting her own example – by putting it all out there in Unfiltered – Lily was able to let go of personal baggage, which in turn allowed her to go deeper into her characters. Forthcoming appearances include two extremes: Edith Bratt, beloved wife and muse of English writer J.R.R. Tolkien, author of The Lord of the Rings, in the biopic Tolkien, and Liz Kendall, longtime girlfriend of infamous American serial killer Ted Bundy in Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile.

"I'd just finished filming that when I jumped on a plane and flew to Brussels in winter to start Les Mis," says Lily. "My state of mind was already very dark, so when I found we were working backwards, that the end of Fantine's life was being filmed on day two of shooting, I used this weird head space to help me lean into her character."

Lily portrays Fantine, a fallen woman who sells her hair, then her teeth, then her body to earn money for her daughter, with a deft mix of steeliness, sassiness and grace. Much of the filming took place in sub-zero conditions; one memorable scene sees a shivering Fantine being physically hurled across cobblestones by police inspector Javert: "David [Oyelowo] got a bit carried away, and there were real bruises afterwards," says Lily with a grimace. "I thought, 'Well she's physically in pain, let's keep going.'

"I've never shot anything out of sequence like that but I'm so grateful because when we returned in the summer, knowing where we ended up, I got to amp up the romance. I wanted people to empathise with her as much as possible."

She flashes a smile. "Empathy," she says, "is everything."

Les Misérables premieres on BBC First on Foxtel and Fetch from March 10 at 8.30pm.

This article appears in Sunday Life magazine within the Sun-Herald and the Sunday Age on sale February 17.

https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/celebrity/lily-collins-on-outshining-dad-phil-and-her-new-blockbuster-role-20190213-p50xf1.html

[bluebirdsingsforyou]

Coup de Grace  Chapter -1

The Ice was cold this winter, much colder than usual. More hostile one would say.

But, then again many things were.

“I have summoned this gathering here to make all of you aware that we will not rest until this crisis is averted ! In times like these we must trust each other, we must defend the kingdom with all our might. And we must stick together as one , as in this time of suffering and war bonds are tested” they shouted and cheered as a chorus of ‘ Long live the Queen ‘ was spread through the crowd. “ It will be okay , Rose” My mother , ever the optimist. Her soothing voice would help almost in any situation , but I was worried not only about myself but also my people, my family. Aging didn’t hit her hard , her blue eyes with her pink cheeks and her little smile. Oh, how I have missed it ! she had entirely lost her mind after my father’s death but thankfully some of her sisters and her family frequently lived at the court. But, that was the curse and blessing of the Faerie blood in our veins. Our beauty was timeless, we wouldn’t age physically not after attaining a certain age. But, that doesn’t make us Immortal , some die of natural cause and some due to the bag of their pretty lies and ugly truth. In Royal Families you could die of from a stroke of a pen or the axe of a blade. Power was thicker than blood. “ Rose ! Help me out here” she smiled towards me and I marched forward to help her distribute the food and the blankets to the peasantry and the soldiers ,  I picked up the ragged blankets and started handing them to the citizens , the temperature this year had dropped intensely , with more storms and rains. Destruction had prevailed strongly , every kingdom was suffering in there own ways. Diseases which were totally unheard of had claimed the kingdom though we did have enough supplies to provide basic care to our people but the truth was that our people were dying and there was nothing we could about it. My sister  was a victim of the disease as well and she had some months left before she would take her final breath. “Your Grace “ a little girl with two pigtails bowed “ Is there any cure for the disease yet” she was merely older than seven or eight and I had often seen her with her sisters “ No. I am afraid not “ I said as I touched her cheek gently “ But, don’t worry its going to be fine” I said reassuringly as her smile turned sad. After , the function I walked back to the castle , it was old and rusty but it still had golden vines covering the pillars and flowers at every step. The top of the fort was the Wayhan crest, a peacock with red feathers. I walked towards my room , the hallway was silent and cold with nothing other than the thumping noise made by my boots. Usually, the palace had parties every week and it was filled with people but these days it was as if the life had been sucked out of the kingdom. My room was a pale blue color with paintings of the ocean , mountains and gardens. Everything I hope to see before I die , I had claimed the throne since I was seven. Never really had a childhood , that didn’t stop me from imagining it , between my father’s death and me claiming the throne I got lost in this rush. My mother and sister were the only people among who I could find some solace. My father was killed due to a foreign attack most possibly from another kingdom, they tried to kill me too but my father saved me. A sour piano note caught my attention from my room, I peeked in and saw a bunch of black curls falling down and a blue gown covered in snow “ Lily, I told you not to go outside “ I walked in as she threw the piano sheet “ I can’t play this damned thing “ She didn’t look sick , she almost never did but there were small instances when her breathing would suddenly hitch or there would be blood smudged on her dress. “ It’s all about patience” I smiled and sat beside her “ You were amazing today , really “ Her smile could light up the entire world, she didn’t have the faintest idea how her features were similar to father’s. “ You can’t beat yourself up for this” I stopped playing, she patted my shoulder lightly “ I have no idea how to fix things “  I sighed and she giggled “ What is so funny ?” I mocked fake anger “It’s just that you always know how to fix things , I mean you can do anything” I wanted to come up with a witty reply but my eyes wandered to the window , to my kingdom , my responsibility.

The meeting room was buzzing with people many were family but there were many nobles, advisors and council members. The hall was decorated with pastel ribbons and glistening wallpapers, there were no expenses spared though, the kingdom was suffering with a disease but  it still was economically prosperous and that has to be the saddest part of it all we had so much power but we , I could do nothing.  I don’t remember much about my father but I always wished that I looked like him but I looked like my mother more. She had sharp and subtle features with green eyes ,her eyes were big and her hairs were blonde with some black at the end. I had the same  pale white skin ,same dirty blonde hair but my eyes were not the usual colors they had two different shades; Blue and Green they contrasted with my hair. I liked to think I had some resemblance to my father.  I cleared my throat and the room went completely silent, I smiled warmly at the spectators “Welcome, friends, family and fellow noblemen who wish well for this land” a number of ‘Your majesty’ and curtsy bows headed my way as I walked towards the big table and took my seat next to my mother and Lily she squeezed my hand a little. Sometimes it startled me how I was only an year older than my sister ,  I was almost eighteen and she was seventeen. How different would things be if I could have her freedom ?  What would it feel like to not have the weight of a crown on my head? ,  sadly there was a thick line between imagination and reality. “ Today we are assembled here to discuss the catastrophe that has taken our land in a whirlwind. Difficult times have approached us but we, as the leaders of this land must provide protection to our land , to our people” I glance at the crowd and see a hand lifted , Ah! Good old Albert , one of the finest scholar we have “ Sir Albert” I acknowledge he had the appearance of well, a mad man. He had white hair now, some said it was the only sign of a faerie getting old and coming closer to the end. His hair curled up like a blob and his clothes were dirty and tattered “Your Majesty, I may have found a cure to this disease that is haunting us” several gasps were heard and many sat upright on the chair “There is well a plant. More like a tree, that has been heard about in this realm, it’s called ‘Astrid’. You see, thousand years back our ancestors had written about this in this in the middle of this realm, in the exact center-“ A snicker left the mouth of my dear cousin, Lohan. “ And we are supposed to trust this man about a thousand year old tree…this is absurd!” I rolled my eyes “ If you have any other leads I am all ears. Brother” I spat out the last word “ Continue” I indicated “ Your Highness, there is a chance that this might work “ He smiled a little at the end “ We mustn’t give up on hope.” I sighed and looked at my father’s portrait wishing he would tell me what to do “ For hope is all we have”. “ My dear, the middle of this realm is the Kaelian Kingdom…” my mother whispered and the entire hall looked at me with cold stares. Why wouldn’t they? It was a well known fact that the four kingdoms ruled together for centuries until they became hungry  for more power and luxury. Since, then the relations between kingdoms have received a blow , while trade relations may still be there for mutual benefits  but   there is hostility and a certain unspoken aggression between them. “ If there is even a possibility of finding a cure I will do everything in my power to help my home, our home”

“ What in the name of hell were you thinking ?” my mother wailed as she walked to and fro in the room, her blonde hair flying everywhere in the wind. She has been continuing this for the last hour , saying she was tense after my speech was an understatement. “ Rose, you can not be serious !” My mother gasped “Mom, this is the best shot we have” I roll my eyes “ This is not a joke! “  she retorted. Uh-Oh.

“ I believe she can do it “ Lily smiled a little , mom marched towards her “ Lilly ! you are not supposed to encourage your sister to do  this”. “ What other choice do we have ?” She stood up and smiled a little at her, voice composed and calm “ If there is anybody who can do this… God knows its Rose” She giggled at me, leave it to Lily to find amusement in such moments.” I would probably irritate them to death” I smirked “ Rose…” she hunched her shoulders “ We don’t even know if this information is credible” she walked towards the big map at the center of the room “ The last time the four kingdoms formed a relationship it ended with one of the kingdoms getting massacred and disappearing off the face of the realm” There it was, the real reason behind her worries. Sometimes, I forget that she is just as devoted to the kingdom as I am. “ Lets not take it there” I plead “ I am willing to give this a try, and if this plant is  not found in the Kaelian Kingdom then I will come back and it would be like as if it never happened. I can’t sit here and do nothing. I am suppose to be the queen, these people are my concern and so is the well being of this kingdom” I let my anger seep out there, a little “ Mother, you have to trust me …” I appealed , “ I can’t lose you, you and Lily are all I have” She smiles a little as tears are already swelling in her emerald eyes, “ Don’t go all crying on me, now” I smile , she clears her throat “ I will ask the guards to prepare the carriage ” she tucks a loose strand at the back of my ear. The impending heartbreak imminent in her eyes.

It had been two days since we sent our entreat for a peace treaty. It wasn’t as if the kingdoms were constantly attacking each other , but there were always attempts of  attacks on our treasury, among the others. Our kingdom was the richest and prosperous, while the Kaelian Kingdom were rich too but they had an extra advantage of the Outlaw Forest and the Barred River of Hope. There kingdom could provide much more medical care. I was disrupted from my train of thoughts as the sword cut through my elbow, the sweat trickling down my body and some bruises in my knuckles. I started to wipe the sword which was now, laced with my blood and had been over the years. It was my fathers, after his death , I cried embracing the sword with open arms I was merely older than seven, I had no idea of how much of a scar it will have on my body, more particularly on my neckline. It was a pale scar which extended from my chin to my neck line. It was fairly visible in my day gowns, Oh the horror !. So, the first wound I gave anybody with this sword was myself. Always myself. “Your Grace “ A small voice squeaked behind the door “ Come in “ I order as I put up a robe, “ Your Majesty “ she bows down “ Andrea ! “ I smile , she went on a maternity leave months back “ How is the baby ?” I rush a little and hug her. She was almost hundred and had been serving this kingdom for almost eighty years “ The baby is hale and hearty and it’s a he” She looks a little weak but her face is still glowing with happiness “ I am so happy for you “ I giggle, almost forgetting everything happening at the moment “ But, Your Majesty…” her face darkens a little “ That is not the reason I came to see you, it’s the envoy from Kaelian” she gulps a little “ He is here”

[shemakesmusic-uk]

This segment features artists who have submitted their tracks/videos to She Makes Music. If you would like to be featured here then please send an e-mail to shemakesmusic@hotmail.com. We look forward to hearing from you!

Bumsy and the Moochers

Bumsy and the Moochers are a ska punk band from the Chicago suburbs. They’ve been together since 2012 playing shows across the Midwest. They are currently writing and recording their third album. Their new song ‘Youth’ “is different from anything we've ever done. It's acoustic while featuring horns and violin. It's a song about the loss of innocence, remembering the good times of your youth, and knowing that dreams are possible,” say the band.

Youth by Bumsy and The Moochers

Lily Talmers

Lily Talmers is a folk musician from the state of Michigan. She'll be releasing her first full length album, Remember Me as Holy, on February 11. Her songwriting is inspired mostly by the greats of the 60's folk revival, and her lulling voice is juxtaposed by fresh and cutting lyricism. The first single from the LP, ‘The Push and Pull of It,’ is about reconciliation within oneself. It dances around the pain of memory and tragedy of love that endures despite conflict.

Q-Benjamin

Q-Benjamin is a Juno award winner. Also known as “Q” or “QB”, she is a Canadian singer, songwriter and rapper of mixed South Asian and Jamaican descent now residing in Edmonton, Alberta. After signing to a major Canadian label when she was only 18, she has since taken the independent route. At age 8, Q began writing short stories and poetry as a means of expression, which would later lead to an affinity for songwriting and a way to empower herself and others through music. She credits her environment and life experience as having inspired her core values centred on faith, self awareness and being a woman of principle. She sets out to garner the attention of an audience like herself- with high lyrical standards that appreciate craftsmanship, artistic expression, and creativity in music. “‘New Ting’ reflects my Jamaican roots as a bi-racial/ second generation Canadian (I’m also half south Asian!),” explains Q. “It’s my first released track with an island/dancehall vibe, while staying true to my usual hints of R&B and rap inflections.”

Q-Benjamin · New Ting

Upper Reality

Upper Reality (they/them) is a producer, singer, instrumentalist based out of LA. A Dallas native, their electro-soul sound is a sensual museum full of pieces from Dallas neo-soul keys and synths, Cape Town house-jazzy percussion, LA indie grooves and sample flips, and flourishes of inspiration from artists running the gamut from Sade, to the Doors, to Roy Ayers, to Sango and more. "’I Can’ is the free-love anthem of my EP Body Hi which dropped January 15,” says the artist. “The EP also comes with a short film that brings a visual to my journey toward self actualization and a re-imagining of reality.”

Body Hi by Upper Reality

The Barettas

The Barettas have been resurrected and are back from the grave. Their new album, out now, is full of pump you up, getting ready to go out, running in the woods music. ‘Touché’ was inspired by skipping to the Hamilton bar, Che. “’I might be sick in the head, but I'm not crazy’. We both have our own reasons for loving this lyric,” say the duo. “Lauren sees it as a, "This is me, take me as I am," no fucks given attitude. Katie sees it as something that everyone can relate to regarding one's mental health, as in it's okay to be yourself…even if people think you're nuts.”

Madame So

After a prolific 2020, which saw her release the singles ‘Generation Y’, ‘You Say’ and ‘Who Are We to Judge?’, Madame So returns with a new tune in ‘REAL FRIENDS’. As an adept of relatable thematics, with this new song, in an era and dragging pandemic context, in which the world and relationships of any kind are being reassessed by each and every one, Madame So muses on the core foundation of friendship.

Real Friends by Madame So

Paragon Cause

Paragon Cause is a songwriting, production and musical duo from Ottawa, Canada. Dutch Orange and Cape Breton Green combine to bring their love of Hip-hop, classical piano, 80's synthesizers and 50's guitars. Kirwan and Marnie vonKheul bring their sibling rivalry to create a sound that is both haunting and familiar. Songs about truth and life. Life will start to come back to us. ‘Making Up For Lost Time’ is an optimistic song with a sense of longing, a glimmer of hope through the long fog of isolation, whether it be from an old relationship or this last year. The band explain: “When you close your eyes after looking at someone you love, the image sits on your retina and slowly fades away, but the memory remains in your head, distorted. It's about time rushing forward and never able to catch up to your future plans. Lost opportunities and warning your past not to make the same mistakes, but feeling it is inevitable.” ‘Making Up For Lost Time’ is the lead single from their full-length album Autopilot due in 2022, produced by The Raveonettes' Sune Rose Wagner.

PARAGⴲN CAUSE · Making Up For Lost Time

MELO

Meló (Melanie Percy) has shared the release of her debut single, ‘Counting Sheep’. An ode to her beginnings as a songwriter, this track reflects on the acoustic, a cappella and folk roots of her past. Fascinated by the story-telling aspects of these genres, Meló began using music as an outlet for her emotions. Part of her future EP Youthless, this song is the first of a multitude of singles focused on the exploration of genre-fluid music and conceptualization of the issues that come with growing up too quickly. Discussing the different facets of coping through mental illness, manipulation and abuse, with the underlying desire to go back to a simpler, care-free time. Meló has a distinctive style of vocals, sometimes compared to the likes of Hayley Williams. There is a type of angst and darkness to her voice, that compliments her lyrical content well. She creates a space of vulnerability within her music, saying “I use music as a coping mechanism and hope that my listeners can do the same through mine.”

MELÓ. · Counting Sheep

[faroreswinds]

So I am still working on Chapter 1 on my AU fic. Since I have no intention of publishing it, I figured I could at least share some of the parts that I finished/very close to finishing. Idk, I did work on it and felt like maybe one or two people will get a kick out of it.

I rarely share my work, but I'm working on my anxiety and my poor self image, and figured I should be brave and just do it. No matter how scary it is.

Anyways, this is Part 1 of Chapter 1 (split up into smaller parts because I can). Probably won't go beyond chapter 1; I dont think my nerves can take it.

The news of the coronation of the new Almyran King came exactly one day before the letter announcing his intention to travel to the Empire of Adrestia to discuss the future of their alliance. 

Dimitri had been at his desk, overseeing his paperwork, when a servant came and informed him that his wife required his presence post haste.

"Pardon? Edelgard is asking for me?" asked the prince in surprise, his quill still against pale parchment. He glanced towards the small window to confirm the time of day. Not even noon yet. If she is requesting for him so early in the morning, it must be important. 

"Very well. Please let her know I am on my way." After the servant bowed and left, Dimitri sighed quietly as he set his quill aside. "Dedue, would you mind-"

"I will clean up, do not worry yourself, Your Highness," finished a large man that stood close beside Dimitri. He bent over and began to collect the papers delicately from Dimitri’s desk as a small, appreciative smile tugged at the prince’s lips. He thanked his vassal, before he left his chambers to find Edelgard.

The imperial palace was huge and ancient, built upon stones laid nearly 1000 years ago and still ever expanding. Even the most experienced maids often took a wrong turn, but after nine years of living here the prince knew his way through the labyrinth of corridors and impressive hallways fairly well. He was sure there were still secrets laying hidden within the stoney walls- rooms that have been forgotten by all except the mice and spiders- but today he was going towards the gardens and knew exactly the route he needed to take. 

The gardens of the imperial palace were no less complex then the stoney mazes, but no doubt more vibrant and welcoming. Morning glories glistened with dew as they bloomed in the rising sun. Wisteria blew gently in the breeze with their purple hue along the pathways of arbors. Fields of lilies and tulips and lilacs made blankets of color along the ground. Weeping willows offered shade and secluded places to picnic, when there was time. 

All carefully cultivated for the pleasure of the royalty of the Empire. 

Deep within this eden, Edelgard sat at a small white table, underneath her favorite gazebo among the bushes of roses. A display of desserts was spread out before her as she sipped her tea, all the very finest sweets that Enbarr had to offer and made perfectly to her tastes. When she spotted Dimitri approaching, she paused briefly to nod in his direction. 

"Dimitri. I see the servant was able to find you," she said without much surprise in her voice. At this time of day, Dimitri would only have been working. She motioned towards an accompanying chair across from her, which the servants had already prepared a setting for him. They stood to the side now, heads bowed low in respect, while the prince obliged and joined his wife for a morning snack. 

As he took the seat, Edelgard continued, "I hate to tear you away from your work, but something rather important has come up."

“I do not mind,” replied the prince, quite honestly. Paperwork exhausted him after so long- having only one working eye made it more difficult to focus for extended periods of time. Such a rare morning break was a treat, no matter the circumstances. “But I must admit, it was surprising to be summoned.” He glanced around the garden. “Hubert is not with you today?” It was unusual to not see Edelgard’s vassal looming behind her in the shadows, with his piercing yellow gaze and his sharp features. Like a snake, always watching but not always seen. 

"Hubert has other important work right now.” Edelgard set her cup down upon its saucer with a clink, her expression serious. “We received news today that King Khalid of Almyra is coming to Enbarr in just a few weeks."

Dimitri, who had been reaching for his teacup, started at the news and nearly knocked over the porcelain. He adjusted accordingly, catching the cup before the tea split over the table, but he was still openly bewildered.  

“W-what? Cla- I mean, King Khalid is coming here?” 

The princess nodded. She leaned forward and rested her chin upon the back of her hand. “Judging by your reaction, I feel that I was right to include you on this monumental opportunity.” 

“Opportunity?” Dimitri echoed back in confusion. 

"Relations with Almyra have been… delicate, for decades. But now they are reaching out to us. This is a chance for us to form a stronger alliance with them than my father forged with them after the war." She moved closer, expectation in her eyes. "Which is why I want you involved with the summit. You lived there for some time when you were younger. You have a better grasp of their culture than any of the nobles here in the palace. Not to mention, I heard you and King Khalid had been close during your time there."

There was a brief moment of hesitation. “That… is true,” Dimitri admitted. He felt strange. He folded his hands into his lap, his thumbs rubbing against each other as he looked away. He had not thought about that time for a while, at least not until yesterday when news of the Almyran prince’s coronation reached the Adrestian capital. That time, in the desert sands of Almyra… He felt his ears turn slightly pink. “But that was years ago. I am sure that King Khalid has changed. Our childhood friendship may not be what it is now. He may not even remember much of me.” 

“Regardless, you already have a connection with him,” Edelgard insisted. 

“But I was only there for a short time,” protested the prince. 

“And that is more time than anyone else here,” argued his wife in return. “This is important, Dimitri. Almyra has never willingly reached out to Fódlan before, and our current treaty with them is unstable. Father had drawn it up only to prevent them from invading after he won the war, but how long will that last? This is an opportunity to ensure that we can forge a strong alliance and improve relations with our neighbors at last. And who better than someone who was once friends with the new king himself?”

Dimitri could not help but silently agree with her reasoning, but he still felt nervous. His thumbs rubbed harder. “So soon after his coronation… The prince I remember was always pushing the boundaries but to invite himself to the imperial palace immediately after becoming king... “ 

“I found that odd as well. Do you have any idea as to why he would make such a bold decision?”

He shook his head. “Khalid had been curious about Fódlan, that much I remember. But he had always been… unpredictable. I cannot say I ever truly knew his mind.” 

“I see.” Edelgard withdrew and returned to sipping her tea. “Well, Hubert does not think this is an invasion- Khalid openly announced plans and even included the number of his arrival party. I’m still cautious, of course. However… I cannot let this chance go to waste.” 

This chance, huh? Dimitri finally found it in himself to take his first sip of tea since he sat down. But he almost could not focus on the warmth of the drink or the subtle texture of stray tea leaves, not with this news swirling in his head. He thought back to his old friend, back to the heat of the sun and the smell of spice in the air. To the call of the wyverns and the wild dancing, and to those piercing, green eyes of the mischievous prince and his bright, disarming smile. 

Khalid… 

He glanced up anxiously at his wife. “But what about His Majesty? Is he not to spearhead this summit with King Khalid?” 

“I’ve already talked to Father.” Of course she had- she was always one step ahead. “As long as King Khalid is willing, I will be taking charge of the negotiations. Father may still be Emperor, but it will not be long before I am coronated. Which is all the more reason to include you. As the future prince consort, you will be a valuable asset to the strength of this alliance.” 

Dimitri drew in a deep breath. The very nature of his position has basically secured his inevitable reunion with Khalid, hasn’t it? Not that it sounded like a terrible fate, of course. He had grown close to Khalid years ago, but what if… what if they were too different now? It has been nearly a decade, and people change. What sort of man has Khalid become over the years? Was it possible to rekindle such a friendship? There are times to let things stay in the past, to not let the flow of time ruin what had once been so beloved. It would not be Dimitri’s first experience losing a friend due to time. 

And yet, Dimitri felt a spark of excitement. To see Khalid after all these years again… that sounded wonderful as well, even if Dimitri felt nervous at the thought. 

What would Khalid think of Dimitri now? 

His heart skipped a beat at the thought.

“... Very well,” he gave in, “I will do what I can to help.” 

Edelgard smiled, pleased. She beckoned to a peach sorbet. "Since I have you here, we might as well enjoy the morning. It had been a while since we had time to spend together."

Magic had been used to keep the sorbet icy cold, and it had been scooped into a perfect dome with a mint leaf placed delicately on top. After a length of time, Dimitri slid the tall glass closer to him, and took a bite of the light pink dessert. 

He tasted nothing.

[marybromley]

Brian Minter: Make a refreshing patio water garden a summer garden project

Environment Canada is predicting a warmer than normal summer this year for most of the country.

During any hot summer, it’s really nice to have a cooling water feature on your patio or deck.

I’m not suggesting anything close to Niagara Falls; rather, just a simple, relatively inexpensive, watertight, shallow container. You might want to add a small gurgler, floating plants, a few tropicals, a water lily and, if the container is situated in the shade, a couple of goldfish.

For years and for many reasons, large garden ponds have been on the decline. Smaller lot sizes, the electrical costs of running large pumps, algae issues, zealous fish predators such as raccoons, and the overall maintenance required are all contributing factors.

Interest in smaller tub gardens, however, has really exploded. Filled with some of the new colourful water plants and enhanced with the calming sound of trickling water, they are an easy-care element for any patio.

In summer, there are many choices of plants, either tropical or cold hardy varieties, that are suitable for water gardens. Featuring some of each type in your water garden will create a greater diversity of colour and beauty.

Egyptian papyrus (Cyperus alternifolius) is one of the most popular plants for water containers, and it comes in a range of heights from ‘Baby Tut’ (15 to 18 inches, or 38-45 cm) and ‘Prince Tut’ (30 to 48 inches or 75 cm to 1.2 m) to the tall and exotic ‘King Tut’ (grows to six feet or 1.8 m). Even just sitting in a saucer of water, they will look stunning all summer long. They are all very heat tolerant, but they must come inside for winter.

The fibre optic-looking grass, Scirpus cernuus, with its hundreds of tiny grasslike stems topped with minuscule seed heads, is another summer beauty. It, too, needs shallow water and makes a nice spillover plant on the edge of a container.

For some splashy colour, the unique foliage of canna lilies makes an attractive, even surprising, addition to shallow water vessels. The yellow and green striped ‘Pretoria’ or ‘Bengal Tiger,’ the burgundy-red striped ‘Tropicana’ and the pure black ‘Australia’ are just a few richly coloured plants that will add interest to any water garden. These cannas will reward you with tall, elegant flower stems later in the summer.

Surprisingly hardy, pitcher plants (sarracenia) look great with their reddish, curled tips that attract unsuspecting insects into their long throats. Used in clumps by themselves, they are real knockouts.

Not to be outdone, hardy bog plants are quite at home in smaller water pots. I love the height and look of traditional bulrushes, but there are a couple even nicer looking varieties. Typha latifolia, with its stunning white and green variegated leaves and stems topped with very attractive brown seed pods, makes a great focal point. I also love the thin spikes and cute short seed pods of Typha minima.

A few traditional perennials, like the old-fashioned marsh marigold (Caltha palustris) with its round, double, yellow flower heads, adapt well to water pots. The dark foliaged cardinal flowers (Lobelia cardinalis), like the ‘Queen Victoria’ variety, look great in water all summer, but especially when their red flower spikes appear. Many iris, too, are quite at home in water. The Japanese Iris ensata, especially the variegated white and the green foliaged varieties, look great when in bloom with their striking blue flowers.

Even though it might not flower, skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus) — one of my most favourite native plants — has foliage that looks dramatic in a small water garden.

Traditional pond plants, such as the purple or pink pickerelweed (Pontederia cordata), with its attractive foliage and blue or pink flowers, continue to be must-haves. Arrowhead (Sagittaria latifolia) looks great with its unique foliage and blue flower heads.

I know it can be invasive — so be careful — but the red, yellow and pink foliage of Houttuynia Variegata ‘Chameleon’ is a real eye catcher. Equisetum hyemale and members of the juncus family are also potentially invasive, but in water they are particularly beautiful, especially the twisted, curly stems of Juncus effusus ‘Unicorn.’

The addition of a few floaters will soften and enhance the effect of these plants. The elegant, red stemmed parrot feather (Myriophyllum brasiliensis) and the floating bamboo (Hygroryza aristata) are two more stunning options. No water garden is complete without floating water lettuce and water hyacinth, and both grow rather quickly.

All of these plants will help control the growth of algae and help to keep your water clean.

One B.C. company is planting up combinations of these beautiful plants in “water ready” containers so all you need do is drop them into your water garden.

As for maintenance, just top up the water level regularly to make sure the roots are submerged and snip off any spent foliage. If you run into algae, lift everything, rinse the roots off and simply change the water. How easy is that?

A water garden on your patio this summer will add a refreshing and calming element, something we all need right about now.

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Brian Minter: Make a refreshing patio water garden a summer garden project published first on https://weedkillerguide.tumblr.com/

[autolovecraft]

Extinguishing all lights, we did not try to determine.

Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John and myself. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a shrill laugh. Now, as if receding far away, a jarring lighting effect, or gibber out insane pleas and apologies to the objects it symbolized; and, worst of all shapes, and we could not guess, and we could not answer coherently. And when it gave from those grinning jaws a deep, insistent note as of some ominous, grinning secret of the earth. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind … claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as we found in the morning I read of a dominating will outside myself. Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge. On October 29 we found in this self same spot, the titanic bats, the horrible shadows, the pale autumnal moon over the moor the faint deep-toned baying of some gigantic hound in the morning I read of a gigantic hound. Alien it indeed was to whisper, The amulet—that hideous extremity of human outrage, the titanic bats, the horrible shadows, the sickening odors, the abhorred practice of grave-earth until I killed him with a charnel fever like our own. I arose, trembling, I fear, even madness—for too much has already happened to give me these merciful doubts.

In the coffin lay an amulet of green jade object, we proceeded to the terrible scene in time to hear a whir of wings and see a vague black cloudy thing silhouetted against the rising moon. Once we fancied that a large, opaque body darkened the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. We read much in Alhazred's Necronomicon about its properties, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it!

Then terror came. When I arose, trembling, I attacked the half frozen sod with a charnel fever like our own.

St John nor I could identify; and were disturbed by the knock of the unknown, we did not try to determine.

One evening as I.

A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and with headstones snatched from the abhorrent spot, the faint baying of that dead fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder.

Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was who led the way at last to that terrible Holland churchyard.

In the coffin lay an amulet of green jade. And when I saw that it was the night that the apparently disembodied chatter was beyond a doubt in the vilest quarter of the visitor. Through these pipes came at will the odors our moods most craved; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the scent of pale funeral lilies; sometimes the narcotic incense of imagined Eastern shrines of the kingly dead, and a faint distant baying as of some malign being whose nature we could scarcely be sure. It is of this repellent chamber were cases of antique mummies alternating with comely, lifelike bodies perfectly stuffed and cured by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, however, we were both in the extreme, savoring at once of death the line of red charnel things hand in hand woven in voluminous black hangings. Our museum was a blasphemous, unthinkable place, where with the blackest of apprehensions, that the faint baying of some creeping and appalling doom. What mercy I might gain by returning the thing hinted of in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the neglected grass and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some gigantic hound, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it!

Our lonely house was seemingly alive with the satanic taste of neurotic virtuosi we had always entertained a dread that our grisly collection might be discovered. We were no vulgar ghouls, but each new mood was drained too soon, of its features was repellent in the soft earth underneath the library window a series of footprints utterly impossible to describe. As we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off. Our quest for novel scenes and piquant conditions was feverish and insatiate—St John and myself. They were as baffling as the victims of some creeping and appalling doom.

All too well did we trace the sinister lineaments described by the taxidermist's art, and became as worried as I strolled on Victoria Embankment for some needed air, I saw on the following day for London, taking with me the amulet. The baying was loud that evening, and he it was not wholly unfamiliar. There were nauseous musical instruments, stringed, brass, wood-wind, stronger than the night, not only around the windows also, upper as well as lower.

The jade amulet and sailed for Holland. Four days later, I saw a black shape obscure one of our shocking expedition, or catalog even partly the worst of all shapes, and we gave a last glance at the livid sky; the ghastly soul-upheaving stenches of the impious collection in the Dutch language. Less than a week was over felt strange eyes upon me whenever it was the oddly conventionalized figure of a prosaic world; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and the strange, half-heard directionless baying of some gigantic hound, or a clumsy manipulation of the visitor. As we heard the baying in that ancient churchyard, and the crumbling slabs; the vast legions of strangely colossal bats that flew against the rising moon. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John and I sometimes produced dissonances of exquisite morbidity and cacodemonical ghastliness; whilst in a body to the calm white thing that lay within; but I felt that I am about to blow out my brains for fear I shall be mangled in the hidden museum, and he could not guess, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it! These pastimes were to us a certain and dreaded reality. The skeleton, though at one point I encountered a queer interruption; when a lean vulture darted down out of the devilish rituals he had loved in life. My friend was dying when I spoke to him, and articulate chatter. A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held together with surprising firmness, and we could not answer coherently. A locked portfolio, bound in tanned human skin, held certain unknown and unnameable drawings which it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not acknowledge. So, too, as the baying in that ancient churchyard, and I had robbed; not clean and placid as we looked more closely we saw that it was rumored Goya had perpetrated but dared not look at it. For crouched within that centuried coffin, embraced by a close-packed nightmare retinue of huge, sinewy, sleeping bats, the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the livid sky; the antique ivied church pointed a jeering finger at the single door which led us eventually to that mocking, accursed spot which brought us our hideous and inevitable doom. Fancying it St John's pocket, we gave a last glance at the livid sky; the grotesque trees, the gently moaning night-wind … claws and teeth of some unspeakable beast. On October 29 we found potent only by increasing gradually the depth and diabolism of our penetrations.

Our alarm was now divided, for upon an evil tenement had fallen a red death beyond the foulest previous crime of the cold sky and pecked frantically at the livid sky; the phosphorescent insects that danced like death-fires under the yews in a few rooms of an ancient manor-house on a bleak and unfrequented moor; so that our doors were seldom disturbed by what we read.

The expression of its features was repellent in the unwholesome churchyard where a pale winter moon cast hideous shadows and leafless trees drooped sullenly to meet the withered, frosty grass and cracking slabs, and such is my knowledge that I destroy it long before I thought of destroying myself!

Baudelaire and Huysmans were soon exhausted of thrills, till finally there remained for us that ecstatic titillation which followed the exhumation of some gigantic hound. This is the last demonic sentence I heard afar on the moor, always louder and louder. Statues and painting there were, all of fiendish subjects and some executed by St John and I had hastened to the objects it symbolized; and on the moor the faint baying of some unspeakable beast. The next day away from Holland to our home, we gave their details a fastidious technical care.

A wind, stronger than the damp sod, would almost totally destroy for us only the more direct stimuli of unnatural personal experiences and adventures. The next day away from Holland to our home, we thought we heard a whirring or flapping sound not far off.

The skeleton, though crushed in places by the claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses … dripping death astride a bacchanal of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as if receding far away, a jarring lighting effect, or in our museum, there came a low, cautious scratching at the dead.

The predatory excursions on which St John and I saw a black shape obscure one of the earth we had assembled a universe of terror and a secret room, far, underground; where huge winged daemons carven of basalt and onyx vomited from wide grinning mouths weird green and orange light, and mumbled over his body one of our penetrations. A wind, stronger than the night of September 24,19—, I shut my eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground. A wind, and about the relation of ghosts' souls to the objects it symbolized; and were disturbed by the jaws of the unknown, we did not try to determine. Immediately upon beholding this amulet we knew that we were both in the museum. I heard a knock at my chamber door. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John is a mangled corpse; I alone know why, and in the ghoul's grave with our spades, and articulate chatter. Madness rides the star-wind, and frightened away an abnormally large horde of bats from nigh-black ruins of buried temples of Belial … Now, as we found it.

The horror reached a culmination on November 18, when St John and myself. I must try any step conceivably logical.

Extinguishing all lights, we thought we had always entertained a dread that our grisly collection might be discovered. Around the base was an inscription in characters which neither St John from his sleep, he wrote, drawn from some obscure supernatural manifestation of the souls of those who vexed and gnawed at the grave-robbing.

Excavation was much easier than I expected, though at one point I encountered a queer combination of rustling, tittering, and sometimes—how I shudder to recall it!

In the coffin lay an amulet of green jade amulet now reposed in a distant corner; the grotesque trees, the tales of one buried for five centuries, who had himself been a ghoul in his time and had stolen a potent thing from a small piece of green jade, I shut my eyes and threw myself face down upon the ground.

[little-bookbird]

Drunken Dreams

JILY CHALLENGE | @aly-cat-scat vs. @thecupcakeconsumer 

Muggle College AU: “You’re drunk and walked into the wrong apartment and fell asleep on my couch oh god you’re going to be so confused in the morning.”

In the door to the kitchen stood a willowy girl with ginger hair and green eyes. She was wearing an old t-shirt and leggings—both too small to be worn as anything other than pyjamas. On the long, fabric couch that took up most of the kitchen lay a lanky boy with a bird’s nest of black hair and square glasses that were pressed awkwardly against the cushion. The girl was Lily Evans, one of the students who shared the flat. The boy was of as yet undetermined identity.

Lily wasn't entirely sure how the boy had managed to get into her flat, but the fact remained that he had managed somehow because he was passed out and snoring over the hideous cushions that Marlene’s mother had bought as an Easter gift.

"Cas!" she called over her shoulder, "Why is there a boy on the sofa?"

Dorcas Dearborn―the only one of Lily’s flatmates currently in the apartment and the person upon whom Lily could always rely to find out what on earth was happening―stuck her head out of her room and raised an eyebrow quizzically. Lily waved her hands in the direction of the kitchen and the intruder.

"Oh, right. Yeah, that's James Potter. He's in my cultural studies class and he's some sort of relation of mine. Third cousins twice removed or something ridiculous like that. He hangs around with Black and that lot—wait, you know Remus, don't you-"

"What is he doing in our kitchen, Cas?" Lily interrupted. Dorcas Dearborn was one of Lily's dearest friends, but she was rather inclined to deviate from whatever point she was trying to make at any given time.

Dorcas made a face but stopped the tirade of information to answer the question. "He was drunk so he climbed in the window."

Lily blinked a few times, then mouthed the sentence to herself as she attempted to parse it, as though a mute repeat would somehow give the explanation some semblance of sense. It didn't, so she tried again with audio.

"He was drunk…so he climbed in the window."

"Yeah."

"In what world is 'so' the correct conjunction there?"

Dorcas opened her mouth to respond, but the two girls were interrupted by a groan from the kitchen. Lily glanced back at Dorcas just in time to catch her ducking back into her bedroom. She rolled her eyes but didn't move, just stayed stood on the threshold of the kitchen as the boy—James Potter—stretched and groaned his way out of sleep.

"Pete? Fuck, how much did we drink last night. Ugh, Remus, you couldn't do your best mate a favour and stick some bacon on, could you?" He opened his eyes blearily and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before blinking and sitting bolt upright, his back to Lily. "That's not our ceiling. And that's definitely not our calendar."

The calendar, incidentally, was another gift from Marlene’s mother, featuring disproportioned dog photos.

Lily didn't move. Potter swung his legs over the side of the couch and almost managed to get to his feet before crumpling with the heel of his palm pressed to his temple.

"Do you want some aspirin?" Lily asked, taking a cautious step towards the pitiable heap on the kitchen floor. The lump shifted and a scruffy head emerged to squint at her.

"Do I know you?"

"No."

"How do I know you're not trying to poison me?"

"Because if I wanted to get rid of you, I'd just let you die of this hangover."

The scrunched up features tried to assemble themselves into an expression that was possibly supposed to resemble a withering glare, but there wasn't much weight behind it as Lily could just step over him to reach the fridge. She did exactly that and tugged it open to grab the two litre bottle of still water before searching the cupboards for a half-decent glass to pour some out. Once the glass was full enough for a couple of mouthfuls without presenting any obvious spilling issues to hangover-impaired persons, she dug out a packet of tablets from the last cupboard over the sink.

She left the glass on the table in front of the couch, along with the medicine, and told Potter not to move while she went to get changed.

On the way to her bedroom, Lily took a detour via Dorcas’. She opened the door without bothering to knock and stood with her arms crossed and eyes glinting through the reflection at Dorcas, who looked up from where she was violently scrubbing at her short, blonde hair with a thinning red towel.

“Has he asked you for your hand in marriage yet?”

For the second time that morning, Lily ran through Dorcas’ words a couple of times to see if they made sense when she tried them. When they didn’t, she asked what on earth Dorcas was talking about.

“Huh. Either he’s doing well or he’s doing so badly that he doesn’t even know who you are,” Dorcas said, and picked up the towel again, evidently finished with the conversation. Lily considered asking again for clarification, or reaffirming the fact that he didn’t know who she was, but ultimately decided it a pointless exercise. She didn’t bother closing the door behind her and went to her own room to find some jeans and a t-shirt that actually fit. Perhaps if she were dressed, things might start to seem more like a normal morning.

Or perhaps not. When she returned to the kitchen, Potter had ignored her instructions to not move, and was peering closely at the photos on the fridge. She huffed and was about to grab the now-empty glass from the table when she realised that the boy was speaking.

“Wait, fuck, shit, is that Mars? Then fuck fuck fuck, that’s Dory. Which means…fucking shit fuck fuck shit—” Lily cleared her throat and his back when ramrod straight before he turned slowly on his heel with a bright, strained smile. “Hi Lily Evans, I’m James Potter, nice to meet you. How are you this morning, are you good? Great. Anyway, I’m just going to disappear now so bye!”

Lily stared as Potter grabbed her left hand in an awkward handshake and then sped past her and out of the front door. The door didn’t quite shut behind him, and she could hear faint curses trailing back over his shoulder, briefly interrupted by an over-bright greeting to Marlene, who made her way to the open door of the flat with a concerned look on her face. Lily just shrugged and went to get some cereal.

The next time Lily met James, he was halfway through the kitchen window. She stopped dead on her way to get a glass of milk and stared as his lanky body somehow wormed its way through the window, across the counter and onto the floor—apparently without severely injuring or damaging anything.

“Uh, Potter?”

Potter turned and blinked up at her owlishly—no glasses, this time. His pupils were large and dark in eyes edged with red and Lily rolled her eyes. Of course.

“Hey, Mars. Have you dyed your hair? Looks like Lily’s. She’s cute. You’re not cute, ew. Go do that weird thing with Sirius where you’re just friends and somehow pass out on each other half-naked regardless.” Lily suppressed a desire to comment on the vocabulary, made a note to ask Marlene what she was doing with this Sirius bloke, and instead asked Potter about the window. “Oh, I think I took your keys again. Mine wouldn’t work in the lock.”

So that explained the curious scraping noises that had been coming from the front door ten minutes earlier. She still wasn’t convinced it explained the breaking and entering, but Potter looked like he was about to start drooling on the floor so she took pity and hauled him over to the couch. She fetched her milk and left the room, only to glare at the closed doors belonging to Marlene and Dorcas on her way past to her own bedroom and snatch up the blanket draped over her chair. It was pink with cartoon bunnies but he could deal.

James was already asleep when she half-heartedly threw the blanket over him, and she sighed as he clutched at it immediately. In ordinary circumstances, she would wake Dorcas and demand to know why they had an uninvited guest for the second time, but her roommate had a test the next day for which she had been studying all week, and Lily wasn’t that cruel. Marlene also escaped Lily’s wrath (or, rather, her frustrated confusion) as she was out late and probably wouldn’t be back until the morning, as usual (Lily’s thoughts flickered briefly to Sirius, whoever he was). Which meant Lily would probably be the only one left to deal with Potter in the morning. Which she didn’t really want to do.

She returned to her room and cast about for an idea, eventually landing on the open notebook at her bed. She scribbled on the side until the pen worked fluidly and wrote a short note in hopes that he would read it and leave, preferably without either interacting with her or remembering where he was.

You’re drunk and walked into the wrong apartment and fell asleep on my couch. You’re going to be confused in the morning but I’ve left water and tablets on the coffee table. Take them and leave, please. Thanks.

‘Walked’ was a bit of a stretch and the note was possibly a little too passive aggressive, but Lily was tired and she did not want to deal with this in the morning. She left the note, the water, and the medicine on the table and went back to bed.

The next morning went almost to plan. The only way in which it didn’t go entirely according to Lily’s wishes was that Potter seemed to either remember where he was or work it out again, and Lily heard muffled curses through the walls as she glared resolutely at the half-written page of work in her notebook. Her name was also mentioned several times and she wondered again how everyone seemed to know this boy except her, and how he knew her already.

She had the chance to ask when Marlene returned at lunch time.

“Hey, Marley, who’s James Potter?”

She waited patiently as Marlene laughed and choked on her sandwich.

“No way, don’t tell me he finally worked up the guts to come and talk to you. What did he say? Did he ask you to have his babies?”

“What? No? Why would he do that? He thought I was you.” Lily considered the conversation again. “He did say I looked like myself, then said I was cute and you weren’t. Two questions: how does he know me and who’s Sirius?”

“Sirius is one of James’ best mates. They’ve known each other since the start of secondary school. You know Remus, don’t you? He’s one of their lot.”

“What do you mean ‘one of their lot’?”

Marlene raised an eyebrow. “Lily, do you even go to Hogwarts? How do you not know the four Marauders? We might not have fraternities over here but those four manage just fine on their own.”

Lily slumped down in her chair, which Marlene interpreted correctly as complete ignorance and filled her in shortly on the four boys who managed the most mischief in the university and still got three of the highest grades in the year. Lily could attest to Remus’ intellect; they studied economics together and she was fond of his conversation when they met occasionally in locations that weren’t the library.

“Anyway, Potter mentioned you and this Sirius guy.”

Marlene laughed outright at that. “That kid is so oblivious. Sirius and Remus have been going out since forever and Sirius has been gay as fuck for even longer.”

Lily scrubbed hard at her face. They were talking in circles and her head was pounding already and she still hadn’t found out what it was about James Potter that felt so strange, but Marlene was finished with the conversation and standing up to collect the dishes to wash. Lily thanked her and disappeared back into her room to finally finish the essay she’d started yesterday before all the madness repeated itself.

It was two weeks before Lily saw Potter again. This time it was before he climbed through the window, in the process of him getting drunk. From as much as Lily could work out—Dorcas and Marlene refused to tell her anything and their third roommate, Mary, was just as clueless as Lily—the two girls who knew all the parties involved who knew all the parties involved had gotten sick of waiting for said parties to ‘sort it out’ and had not given Lily the option of declining the invitation to Remus’ party.

So Lily was spending her Saturday evening hiding in the corner of a crowded living room, hiding from someone she’d barely met and hardly knew.

Potter was canvassing the room, grinning as he chatted with everyone who even paused near him for two seconds. Lily watched him from afar out of the side of her eyes. She was willing to interact with others, but she stayed alert and aware of Potter’s whereabouts so if he ever got quite too close, she’d skitter out of the way. It earned her quite a few strange looks, but Lily was not prepared to deal with his weirdness tonight.

Dorcas and Marlene make some really quite unsubtle attempts to shove Lily in the direction of Potter, but she got good at ducking under arms or spinning back around against pushing hands and finding somewhere else to be. Emmeline Vance, a girl from Lily’s Religious Studies class, was dependable and un-curious and hid Lily with merely a glint in her eye, blissfully un-questioning. Lily told her she’d explain later, anyway.

If she ever found out what was going on.

The inevitable happened at eleven-fifty-three, just as Lily was beginning to hope. She’d even been as optimistic as to venture out of the main party room to the kitchen where Remus had said there were more drinks. Even before she had opened the bottle, however, there was a step at the door.

The thing is: Lily had intended to stay sober. The fact that someone had spiked her lemonade earlier didn’t help, but by the fourth time she barely avoided Potter and the sixth time her drink tasted rather more bitter than usual, she had given up. Which was why she was in the kitchen with a bottle of Kopparberg.

Which was why she was not prepared to deal with Potter.

He was there anyway.

“Oh, Lily.”

“Potter,” Lily said cautiously, aware that her brain was not her friend right now and her tongue was a little bit sloppy in her mouth. “I don’t know who you are.”

Potter might have replied, but Lily was tired and drunk and confused and everything got a little soft around the edges after that.

Lily woke up before she opened her eyes. This was a wise move because there was already a fritzing just behind her right eyeball that promised a lovely hangover headache and the colours through her eyelids indicated light. She groaned and rolled over on her bed…. Not her bed. Her arm was tucked awkwardly underneath her, so she extracted it and gingerly felt the surface beneath her. It felt like leather. She cracked one eye open, and winced at even the soft morning light coming through the window that didn’t belong to her apartment because there was actually a view instead of a brick wall.

She extricated herself from the cocoon of blankets that had somehow formed around her and stood up to assess the situation. It looked vaguely familiar. Some of the alcohol-coloured fog lifted just enough to realise where she was, but it was too late. She’d completed a full rotation on the spot, and come face to face with James Potter.

His black hair was a mess. His glasses were skewed and his top was on inside out, the stitching for whatever badge it was a tangled knot. His skin was flushed slightly (Lily’s was probably the same) and he scratched his head awkwardly.

“Uh, so you’re in the wrong apartment and you fell asleep on my couch and uh…you’re going to be confused in the morning,” he said. Lily blinked slowly a few times.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m James Potter, and I really like you a lot. Sorry.”

Lily considered him for a couple of heartbeats, to see what they thought. They thought he was cute and that Dorcas and Marlene trusted him.

“Well you know the best cure for a hangover is a McDonald’s breakfast,” said Lily Evans with a tentative smile, holding out her hand to the strange, lanky boy with strange, square glasses and a strange, strange, tendency to climb through windows.

James Potter beamed

Word Count: 2845

[noxilicious-ish]

RECALIBRATION (CH. 5)

Haven’t updated this in longer than I could admit and come out of it with my pride intact.

Btw, if anyone’s interested: I’ll put up an ask or something for doodle/ headcanon requests or questions related to my Harry Holmes project. Check it out later!

Previous chapter: http://noxilicious-ish.tumblr.com/post/154338266696/recalibration-ch-4

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Past Sherlock/Lily, canon pairings

Word count: 2,879

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my pitiful, depraved mind. Please don’t sue me.

CHAPTER FIVE – IN WHICH PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL SAVES THE DAY

Scrutinising turquoise eyes locked unblinkingly onto ever-changing blue-green-gray? ones. All the while, larger and far more inexperienced emerald eyes than either of the other pairs were watching each in part alternatingly, worriedly, much like following a tennis match. Harry was witness to a Mexican standoff the conclusion of which he was uncertain of – and indeed, one he dreaded.

“It’s Professor, actually,” Minerva broke the ice, sipping her tea calmly.

“Professor McGonagall, then,” Sherlock acknowledged with a nod. “Professor of… Transfiguration, I believe? The art of changing the form and appearance of an animate or inanimate object.”

It was all Minerva could do to keep her rather beautifully-shaped teacup safely within her fingers’ clutch. Her eyes widened minutely, although she managed to recompose herself. Her lips remained in a tight, unnerved line.

“You are correct, Mr Holmes, however much that may seem like an impossibility. May I ask how you came upon such knowledge, seeing as you are most obviously not Magic, nor are you a Squib?” she inquired slowly. Mr Potter could have told the strange man about his… special boarding school, but the Ministry was supervising what was imparted by witches and wizards upon Muggles very carefully. And the man’s custody of the child was unofficial and dubious at best.

Sherlock smiled distantly. “During our… acquaintance, Lily bestowed me with her absolute trust, and revealed much of her education and overall childhood, as well as the fundamentals of Wizarding society. She was exceedingly impressive in her skill of avoiding certain trigger terms that might alert the Ministry.”

Harry perked up at the mention of his famous mother, while Minerva paled. Lily had broken the Statute of Secrecy… for a Muggle? She had been a very intelligent girl for all the years the old teacher had known her, so she was undoubtedly aware of all the consequences of such a felony. To have nonetheless committed it for someone’s sake…

The detective scanned her for a few seconds, his smile falling to reveal serious determination. He placed his cup in its saucer, then on the table near his armchair. “Professor McGonagall,” he started, interlacing his pale, bony digits. “You have obviously come here out of concern for you pupil’s safety and wellbeing. You may rest assured that he is in good hands, or at least much better than he used to be.”

The last he muttered angrily and Minerva found herself agreeing. However…

“That is not all you wish to inform me of,” she stated rather than asked.

“No,” Sherlock acquiesced. “Being a Muggle, there is little influence I can manage in the Wizarding society at the moment. I am in need of your help in a particular matter, seeing as you are the most equipped to handle it.”

She raised both eyebrows at this. What a strange fellow. “Indeed? And what is this matter you speak of?”

“I am afraid Albus Dumbledore has committed a grave mistake. You are the only one who can convince him of this, being one of his most trusted allies.”

“And why would I believe you, if that is the case? You seem aware of the fact that Albus’ word holds considerable weight with me.”

At this, he looked her dead in the eye. “Because I am Harry’s biological father.”

Then he stood statue-still, his posture expressing no-nonsense as he awaited her reply. Truly, Sherlock was more than a little nervous about this whole affair. Harry’s happiness and health was at stake whether this stern aging lady chose to aid him or not, and he was definitely not playing around with those. He loved games, but not when they involved his prodigal son.

What a laugh John would have to hear him even think that there could ever be a time he would not simply adore a little game of wills.

Harry shifted almost imperceptibly, trying his best not to break the thick silence that had fallen over the three of them. This was an adults’ exchange, and he was both glad and overwhelmed that he was allowed to spectate. He was also – though he’d never, ever say it within the Professor’s hearing range – a little amused to see said woman for the first time in his life shocked into speechlessness. She was more humane than most authoritarian teachers, but still strict enough to intimidate.

Meanwhile, Minerva was gaping. If the previous unexpected comment had startled her, this was more than enough to stun even her. And yet, she could not entirely deny the fact that what her conscious was desperate to object to, her subconscious was increasingly resigned about.

“How…” she managed to stutter out eventually. “When…”

The other adult mercifully waited for her to regain her bearings. “Are you certain of this?” she finally asked firmly.

She was met with a sardonic smile. “I have valid reasons to believe it is more than possible.”

Minerva conceded with an odd grimace. Harry blushed scarlet and fought valiantly not to fidget. No sane teenager, regardless of the tangled history of their parents and not-parents and any curiosity relating to it, could ever be comfortable with a discussion of their own conception.

“But James…” the Professor muttered, frowning in turmoil. “Why would Lily ever do such a thing? How could she?”

The detective was quiet for a few long moments, staring into the distance. “It was before she married him. I do not know…” he abruptly trailed off, greatly troubled by some long-past memory.

The old Scotswoman studied his absent expression, then she sighed and looked at Harry. “I suppose the resemblance is uncanny,” she joked softly.

Sobering, she continued, “If what you say is true, Mr Holmes, and it does seem so, then you have yet to tell me what the Headmaster’s fault is in this.”

The moment Sherlock’s eyes flicked back to hers, a horrible feeling had already settled in Minerva’s heart. “Though Lily did return to James, in the event of both their deaths, do you not wonder whether she would have rather wrote down the name of the actual father of her child, instead of that of her dreaded sister’s as said child’s caretaker?”

The Transfiguration Professor shook. “Albus… claimed that all of Harry’s potential guardians were either deceased or imprisoned. There was simply no one but… them.”

Sherlock’s fingers clenched tightly over the armrests and he leaned over slightly. “And if that were true, would there not still be his birth certificate to prove the existence of another potential guardian?” he argued tightly, spitting out the last words with unmistakable biterness. “I am not exactly parent material, but anyone would have sufficed, ANYONE but that biped swine and his equally primitive wife.”

He sat back slowly, reigning in his fury after that slight slip-up. As he watched the teacher raise a shaking hand to her mouth, he knew she was remembering Harry’s living conditions for the past twelve years. Given her ability to shapeshift, she was most likely the one tasked with keeping an eye on the child now and then, and must have borne witness to what was taking place in that abominable household.

“Lily’s Last Will and Testament is missing from the Ministry’s public records,” he concluded.

Minerva frowned, trying her best to think logically despite the amalgam of emotions. “Once a deceased witch’s or wizard’s Will has been read, it is magically written into the records. This applies to any and all testaments, and is not undoable.”

Sherlock looked at her pointedly. “Who was the known executor of Lily’s Will?”

Her eyes shot back to his and her features tightened.

…

Ever since finding out about magic, Harry’s life has been in a constant tornado of events, positive as well as less than positive. While he would never regret that moment on his eleventh birthday when Hagrid stomped on that isolated little hut’s door, there have been times when he had needed a breather, the confusion of endless adventures having overwhelmed him to nearly his breaking point.

During his two years at Hogwarts, he had found that refuge in his two best friends’ unwavering loyalty even in the face of certain danger. Still, even a precocious trouble-magnet like himself found himself occasionally seeking the steady wisdom of an adult.

He had never imagined that visiting Headmaster Albus Dumbledore’s office would ever create anything but a feeling of safety and respectful wariness.

Witnessing the elderly wizard’s calm, expectant visage the moment they entered the office was what dropped the burden of crushing disappointment and betrayal onto his shoulders.

Mr Holmes’ perceptive eyes flickered over to him, before he felt the slightest brush of an uncertain hand over his shoulder. If Harry had not been so troubled, he would’ve gave the man a weak, but nonetheless grateful smile for his efforts.

“Minerva,” Dumbledore nodded to his long-time friend and fellow colleague, who merely thinned her lips back. The Headmaster looked at Harry next. “Mr Potter.”

Harry did not answer. He rather chose slight disrespect over opening his mouth and blurting whatever crossed his mind in a fit of rage and desperation.

“Mr Sherlock Holmes. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” Said detective’s expression remained blank, though his manner spoke the world about his impression of the wizard. “Mr Dumbledore,” he returned. “I wish I could say the same, but the circumstances dictate otherwise.”

Dumbledore made a movement with his wand, conjuring three comfy-looking armchairs and gestured towards them in invitation. Once everyone was seated, the old wizard turned to gaze out the window.

“You know why we’re here today,” the Muggle stated, unsurprised.

“You are here because twelve years ago I made a choice for the greater good, regardless of my own wishes,” was the answer he received.

“Greater good…?” Minerva parroted incredulously, her tone rising with each syllable. “For whom, precisely? In all the years I have known you, Albus, I swear…”

The wizard turned to face her, his expression resigned, knowing he deserved her ire, but adamantly in support of his motivation despite it. “No boy should have to live their entire life in the center of attention, not when such a tragedy is the foundation of his fame. Living far away from the magical world for so long was the best option.”

“And you couldn’t have trusted me to shield my own damn son from your bloody magical population? You honestly thought it was better to leave him with a bunch of savages that locked him up in a bloody cupboard? For ten years, you just watched and let them do their number while he cleaned, cooked, scrubbed, while he was being yelled at and pushed around, while he was belittled and treated as less-than-human, through all of that, you did nothing! You rant and rave about how undercivilised and dull Muggles are,” and he spat out the word mockingly, “and then you just throw one of your own into the lion’s den. And you’re still better.”

Harry stared with wide eyes at the detective all throughout his tirade, not expecting the sudden avalanche of words at all, and certainly not at this intensity, even though it was called for. The rant resumed a lot of Harry’s own frustrations over the years and he was a bit glad there was someone brave – or stupid – enough to point them out so bluntly to a form of authority that could have taken measures and didn’t.

Mr Holmes stared angrily at the old wizard, anxious to hear what the man had to say in his defense in the face of this.

“Can you truly claim that you would have been a good caretaker for Harry at the time, twelve years ago?”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in the suffocating silence that followed Dumbledore’s solemn question. If the detective had been angry before, now he was positively boiling, his bright eyes now icy cold with fury and loathing, but also a conflicted, unreadable emotion.

“That justifies nothing. I deserved to know!” he growled through clenched teeth, obviously as an attempt not to roar and scream and rage at the man.

With that, Mr Holmes leaned back in his seat from his near perch on the edge of the chair, though he remained tense, spine ramrod straight, limbs coiled like springs. Harry stared at his hands, unnerved by the showdown but occasionally sneaking glances at everyone in turn, to try and anticipate whatever their next movement would be. For now, though they had come to a standstill.

Professor McGonagall was surreptitiously watching the detective, most likely looking out in case he suddenly jumped out of his seat and throttled the old wizard, though by her crisp, angry and disillusioned visage, she was more than a little tempted to do it herself.

The one to break the pattern was the Headmaster, as usual, when he rose from his seat slowly, for the first time in Harry’s life actually showing the consequences of his old age. He disappeared from their view for a few seconds, then returned with a few yellowed papers in his hand.

“When James and Lily Potter were declared officially deceased and their wills were read, I ensured that most of Lily’s will would be followed to the letter, except for a few select points.”

What was most likely the will, he spread out over his desk. It was obvious that should any of those present be unsatisfied with his credibility, he was willing to read out the entire will for their sake. But after the whole circus, none of them were up for a formal ceremony at this point.

“ ‘To William Sherlock Scott Holmes, I leave a letter to be handed by my Executor.’ ”

Dumbledore handed an envelope to the detective, who accepted it after a brief moment’s hesitation. The man held it gingerly, almost reverently, but seemed firm to suppress the instinct to open it at once, instead opting to see the rest of their meeting carried out.

“ ‘To my son, Harold William Holmes-Evans, I leave the residue of my estate, including a letter to be handed by my Executor upon his eleventh birthday.’ ”

The other envelope was given to Harry. “As James had already left most of his estate to you as well, I had Lily’s savings deposited into the same vault as his,” the old wizard explained carefully, before returning to the last point to be mentioned:

“ ‘I appoint William Sherlock Scott Holmes, the biological father of Harold William Holmes-Evans, to be the guardian of my son until he reaches 18 years of age.’ ”

He concluded by rolling the manuscript closed, and sliding another piece of paper over the desk towards his guests.

On it, written in old, faded but mostly well-preserved ink, the letters spelled out clearly: BIRTH CERTIFICATE.

Harry stared dazedly as he read what was apparently his real name. Harold William Holmes-Evans. And wasn’t that a mouthful.

Well, at least Mr Holmes won’t be complaining about Harry’s name anymore.

Oh yeah, Mr Holmes’ name was there too.

“Your first name’s William?” Harry blurted.

The man pinned him with a deeply unimpressed look. That was the most relevant line of inquiry on his mind to him? “Unless you’d like me to call you Will Junior…” the words even left a sour taste in his mouth, they were so idiotic.

“I’m good,” the boy interrupted hurriedly. If Harold was too serious, he had absolutely nothing in common with the name William.

He supposed he’d learn to live with it, considering his mother had chosen his name.

Also, his real name was as sentimental as his fake one, apparently.

Most of all, now I know for sure that he’s my father and legal guardian, Harry thought, feeling more than a little relieved and excited by the prospect.

See you never, Dursleys!

Harry’s train of thought was interrupted by sudden movement from the corner of his eye, as Mr Holmes stood to pick up the birth certificate. Professor McGonagall was standing as well, by now.

The detective and the old wizard were now having some sort of silent exchange.

“Was it worth it?”                                                                                                                                                                    

Both of them turned to look at Harry in slight surprise. “The choice you made… was it worth it?” he clarified tentatively.

Dumbledore’s usually twinkling eyes had lost most of their brightness and they actually looked sad as he answered, “I don’t know.”

Harry bit his lip. Albus Dumbledore was a good man. He’d always felt that in his gut, even though the old wizard tended to be more than a little vague. Looking at it objectively, one might suppose that the Headmaster was in a position to take the hard decisions no one else could, for the sake of the wizarding world or whatever.

The boy supposed one day he’d be able to forgive that, not just acknowledge it.

For now, though, he desperately wanted to go home and maybe cry about it for a bit – not that he’d ever admit it aloud. He had his pride, after all. He grabbed Mr Holmes lightly by the sleeve, trying to convey this silently.

The man clearly got the message, because he nodded meaningfully towards the Transfiguration professor, who turned to lead them back out of the office. They left without another word to the Headmaster.

To be continued…

So that’s it for now. I’m not even gonna promise anything anymore, hopefully I’ll be writing and updating sometime soon, but considering I have my Cambridge examination sometime soon...

Again, if you want to see more Harry and Daddy Holmes fluff or have any requests related to them, check out my blog and click the request button there.

See you next time!