‘Then Carol slipped her arm under her neck, and all the length of their bodies touched fitting as if something had prearranged it. Happiness was like a green vine spreading through her, stretching fine tendrils, bearing flowers through her flesh. She had a vision of a pale white flower, shimmering as if seen in darkness, or through water. Why did people talk of heaven, she wondered.’
Patricia Highsmith, The Price of Salt (1952) // Carol (2015), dir. Todd Haynes
[tw for implied neglect/emotional abuse, I guess??, and alcohol/drinking. Big one for that.]
"What the hell is this?" She asked, unable to hide the tremble in her voice.
"It's a bottle of wine." Kris said, grinning.
"Don't be a smart-alec," she said, angry now. "I don't mean the bottle, I mean this. You." Kris ignored her, idly tapping the glass in his hand. "I haven't seen you drink more than a glass since you got here, and now you go and down half a bottle? What in the Morrigan's name is going on?"
Kris looked up and smiled. "Nothing's going on, besides the usual. I'm being kept at a reasonable distance until I stop being useful. But the joke's on you. I'm useless. So do yourself a favor and just send me home already."
Fallon's eyes burned with tears. "I don't believe you really think that. Whatever, whoever is going on here, this isn't you." Her voice shook, tears forming in her eyes.
Kris laughed, loud and sharp. "Oh, so you think you know me better than all of Oryn? Than me family? This is me. The drunk, the extra, the useless waste of space. I guess you don't know me at all."
The bottle slipped out of Fallon's hand and it crashed to the ground, wine spilling from the open neck. The tears she had been holding back came now, spilling from her eyes as she stared at him, speechless. Oblivious, Kris tipped his head back and took a long drink.
Fallon felt a bolt of rage shoot through her, and she crossed the space between them in two quick steps. Before she even knew what she was doing, her hand reached out and snatched the glass from his hand, and threw it. Hard. "What the f-?" The rest of his word was covered by the sound of shattering glass as the cup hit the wall and shattered.
"What the hell was that?" Kris asked, eyes sharp with anger.
Fallon grabbed his wrist, and looked him in the eyes. Her own burned with tears and anger, but her voice was steady as she spoke. "Don't you dare say you aren't worthy of love. Don't you dare go wasting yourself like this. You are a good man, Kristopher Pelle, and you'd better damn well act like, or I swear to you, you will be going home." She dropped his wrist and walked away, leaving the Prince standing, speechless behind her.
There are a number of fics in the drafts of this blog that I started a few years ago, and no longer feel the inclination to finish. But there are still some pretty fun bits and bobs, so I’m going to throw them all up in one post if anyone is interested in some disjointed excerpts.
--
Dueling - Jan 27, 2014
James has his hands on her shoulders, and she is calculating how best to catapult him off of her body when his lips descend to kiss her thoroughly.
“James,” she protests, as they pause for a breath, “we’re supposed to be fighting.”
“Sorry,” he murmurs, but the grin on his face contradicts his apology.
Later, when they are about to leave, Lily says, “I think we should compartmentalize our situations.” She does not meet his eyes, choosing instead to rub nonexistent grease off of her wand by running it against her jeans.
“How so?”
“Well… as much as I like snogging you, I think that we should have… snogging times, and dueling times. So we can be efficient with, er, both,” It sounds oddly formal and for reasons Lily is unsure about, a flush has risen in her cheeks. She still refuses to look him in the face.
James tilts her chin up, a gleeful look on his face. “Lily Evans, are you asking me out?”
She splutters out an indignant protest but James just grins all the wider. “You are asking me out,” he says, leaning closer to get her to look at him directly. Her cheeks are hot as his hands move to either side of her face. “Yes.”
--
And There Was Only One Bed - Feb 2, 2014
“One of you can come up and sleep with me.” As all four boys seem to prepare themselves for a smarmy comment, she adds, “Don’t start, gits. You know what I mean.”
“If someone’s joining you, Wormtail’s out,” Sirius says, his eyes flicking to the boy in question, “he’s a kicker.” From his tone, it seems that Sirius has experienced this very quality one too many times.
Peter huffs indignantly. “Padfoot’s a prat, I kicked him out of a hammock one time—” He cuts himself off as he sees the black-haired boy fingering his wand. “Fine, I’m out.”
“I’m out, too,” Remus says with a sigh. “I roll about too much, I’m afraid. I’d be falling out of the bed anyway."
James does not say anything, but instead he and Sirius seem to communicate something with a glance between them. James gives Sirius a warning look, but Sirius simply grins and pats the wooden arms of the chair, saying, "I’m comfortable where I am,”
“C'mere, then,” Lily says to James, gesturing to the spot next to her. Shooting a loaded glance at his best mate, he sits down.
--
Pecker Parody - April 22, 2014
James Potter had a problem. This particular dilemma was approximately five feet tall, freckled, and had a habit of popping up at inopportune times.
This problem was his diddly-doo. His magical wanking stick, if you will. You see, while having a dingler the size of a broomstick was all well and good when he was a boy, due to the fact he could ride it around like a pogo stick, at the age of eighteen, it was a bit more troublesome.
The truth of the matter was that he wanted to put his party popper inside Lily’s cash register, but he didn’t know how to tell her.
--
Birth - March 15, 2015
“I can’t believe you just did that,” he says in awe. “Did you know you could do that?”
Brushing some of her hair out of her sweaty face, Lily laughs. “I’d had some time to get used to the idea, yeah.”
James looks back at the bundle in his arms, and then again at his wife. “You just pushed an entire person out of you. Our person. He’s not tiny, either. I mean, he is tiny, but only because he’s a baby. Otherwise, he’s quite a large thing to be exiting any orifice.”
“If we ever do this again, you can do that part,” she says leaning back against the pillows.
--
Grease AU - June 25, 2015
(Also posted here.)
“This is… ridiculous,” she murmurs against his lips.
James laughs. “It’s a little late to denounce snogging on the beach, Evans, since we’ve been doing it for the past few weeks.” As he speaks, he drops his mouth to her neck, smiling as her eyes flutter.
Lily pulls his face up by the chin to meet his gaze. “I meant this whole thing.” She gestures around them. “After what happened after the Defence O.W.L. at the end of last term, how can you find any of this normal? Everything was such a mess after. Hell, if we hadn’t both come to the same place this holiday, I’d still be stewing in it by September.”
“But we did,” says James, brushing his nose against hers. “We talked and we yelled and we talked more and then you threw yourself at me.”
He dodges her swat at him much too easily to satisfy her, but at her raised brow he makes an amendment. “Alright, so I may have done some of the throwing. I’m a Chaser. I need to hone my reflexes.”
“My point is, it doesn’t feel like you’re Potter on this beach,” Lily says, ruffling his hair pointedly. She smiles. “You’re just James.”
“Just James,” he repeats, adjusting so he lies beside her instead of half atop her. “You make it sound like I’m two different people.”
It is Lily’s turn to laugh. “Aren’t you? I can’t imagine this version of you hoisting someone up by their ankles.”
“Of course not,” says James immediately. “I’m wearing trunks. Where would I keep my wand?”
Lily is already giggling by the time James begins suggesting locations on his body that he might be hiding his wand, and by the end of his lewd list, she is nearly having a fit on the sand. When she catches her breath, she looks at him. “I know I don’t get to keep Just James forever,” she says, leaning on his arm. “But at least try to preserve the illusion for me when we get back to school by avoiding me.”
James is quiet for a moment, but when he speaks his voice is soft. “You’re being silly, Lily,” he tells her, pulling her closer. “This is who I am. Caring about your feelings, about anyone’s feelings, isn’t exclusive to this beach.”
She kisses him, slowly and deeply. “Try to remember saying that.”
James grins. “If I’m going to be reliving a memory from this holiday, I reckon I have to choose the night under the pier—”
Lily laughs, cutting him off with her lips. “Be quiet, James.”
--
Masquerade - Dec 16, 2015
“So you’re Muggle-born, then?” he says thoughtfully. She stiffens, and he hasten to add, “It doesn’t matter to me. I’m just trying to figure how that narrows down the options for who you are.”
She smiles, but then looks a little put-out. “That’s hardly fair, I don’t know anything about you.”
“Pureblood,” he tells her, kissing her neck.
“A pureblood that doesn’t care that I’m Muggle-born? That does narrow down the options.” Her fingers tug at his robe. “N.E.W.T. classes?”
He shakes his head, kissing her lips quickly. “Too easy. Do you play Quidditch?”
“No. Do you?”
After a moment of hesitation, he says, “Yes,” so she is quick to follow with a suspicious, “On a team or for leisure?”
He laughs. “Both.”
--
Problematic.jpg - March 29, 2016
“James Potter,” Lily says to Mary suddenly, “is my problematic fave.”
“Receipts, please,” says Mary, not looking up from her copy of Witch Weekly.
“Plus, he’s like, a pureblood. So he’s got the whole legacy of all that fucked-up culture.”
“But like, a lowkey pureblood. He’s 12% Muggle-born.”
--
Junks the Trash King: The Sequel - April 18, 2016
“I’ve met the Rubbish Man,” announces Lily upon entering her flat.
“Good, tell him we need a new recycling bin,” says Mary absently. “There’s a family of raccoon living in ours.”
“Not him, Junks.”
The name catches Mary’s attention. “The soulmate?” she asks, straightening up. “How was he?”
Lily drags herself over to their kitchen table and collapses into a seat. “Not named Junks, for one.” Lily holds up her palm for Mary to inspect. “Apparently this is supposed to say ‘James.’”
“Shame. I’d rather hoped to one day receive a wedding invitation inviting me to the marriage of Lily and Junks. Though I’d have to bin it for the wordplay, you understand.” Lily turns her hand so she can flip Mary the bird, but from the look in her eyes, her friend has already spotted something new. “Got his number already, did you?”
--
Baby Brain - June 15, 2016
“I think I'm pregnant,” says Lily, so quietly that James almost doesn't hear it.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” she repeats, turning over in bed to face him. “I tell you I might be up the spout and all I get is, ‘Oh?’”
James grins at her in the dark. “Would you have preferred ‘Blimey?’” He expects the pillow that's aimed at his face.
“James.”
“Yes, dear?”
“Would you be okay with it? If I am?” It's hard to see her eyes clearly with such little light, but James can hear in her tone that she's nervous.
“I... Yeah, I would,” says James, seeking out her hand. “You know I want kids with you. I mean, I might not have seen this starting so soon, but I think we're pretty great at improvising. Remember our wedding reception?”
Lily laughs. “Somehow I don't think using Dumbledore's hat to catch projectile vomit is the same thing as raising a child.”
“I think you'll find they're remarkably similar.”
She laughs again. “I'm trying to work myself into a worry, James, and you're making it very difficult.”
He leans over to kiss her on the cheek. “Sorry, dear. Feel free to treat our child as a sign of impending doom.”
Lily leans her head onto his shoulder. “We're nineteen, James.”
“Old enough to be married,” he replies, poking her with his ring finger.
“We don't know anything about children.”
James smiles. “Children don’t know anything either, so we’ll be on a level playing field.”
--
(ʘ‿ʘ)ノ✿ Hold My Flower - August 17, 2016
“Lily, no.”
She scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘Lily, no?’ I didn’t say anything.”
“Lily,” he says cheerfully, throwing an arm around her shoulder, “We have been married for forty-five years now—”
“Dating for eight months,” she corrects, holding back a smile.
James waves a hand dismissively. “So, in that time, I am confident that I’ve grown to recognize what your faces mean. And that face said, ‘I’m going to put frogspawn in his tea.’”
“I don’t carry around frogspawn, James.”
He looks at her dubiously. “But you’d find some, wouldn’t you?”
--
Countdown - October 31, 2016
“Padfoot gets back from his assignment tomorrow,” Lily tells him, eyes on their calendar.
James pauses in trying to convince his son of the merits of pureed beets. His eyes drift towards the day on the calendar circled in red. Lately, they’ve taken to marking their calendar with the events of their day, if only to make the days seem more distinct. August 27th: ‘At 3 o’clock, Harry said his first full sentence.’ September 12th: ‘At 6 in the morning, the cat brought James a present and left it in his mouth.’ Tomorrow, October 31st, is a rare date that marks the future.
“Good,” he says. “I was hoping he’d be back before his birthday.”
A small, hopeful smile blooms on her lips. “Perhaps we can finally give him a nice celebration. I know Moony is still underground, but Wormy said he’d stay close by. I could bake him a cake.”
“Cake!” says Harry, and James laughs. He takes advantage of his boy’s opened-mouth enthusiasm to give him a spoonful of beets. The look he receives is nothing short of betrayed.
Victorious and still chuckling, James turns back to his wife. “We can ask him to come by as soon as he’s home.”
--
Baby I’m Trying: The Sequel Pt. 1 - Jan 4, 2017
He wishes his mum were still around, but since she’s not, in his desperation, James consults his neighbour, Batty Bagshot. Though she’s had no children of her own, she’s looked after many of her nieces and nephews over the years, and James has never been more thankful to hear her drone on.
After his conversation with Bathilda, he comes home, arms laden with all the supplies she recommended he find. Sirius’s eyes are wide as James brings the load inside the flat. “Reckon you got enough?”
James slumps over to the floor and leans his head on the pram. “This stuff is only for the first six months,” he says, staring into space. “Do you know how many times a day a baby needs formula? D’you think McGonagall will let me take the baby to class?”
Sirius considers it. “McGonagall does let her cat into the lectures. Although,” he says, wrinkling his nose and holding the baby out to James, “she knows how to use a litter box.”
James wonders if it’s pathetic to google ‘How to change a nappy.’
--
Baby I’m Trying: The Sequel Pt. 2 - Jan 4, 2017
In three days, James has a paper documenting that the baby is one hundred percent, undeniably his. He hadn’t doubted that he was, but it’s something different to see it on paper. It makes the whole thing more real for him. He sets about telling the rest of his friends, and while they are as surprised as he is, they take it in stride and help him sort it out, as they’ve always done.
“What are you going to name him?” asks Remus.
“Wilberforce,” suggests Sirius, grinning.
James cracks a smile at that. “Maybe something unisex. Elvendork?”
“You’ll have no trouble calling out for him if you ever lose him,” says Peter fairly.
James laughs. The baby fusses a bit in his arms and he runs a hand over the dark mass of hair that is already on this boy’s head. “Could go with a family name,” James says thoughtfully.
“I’m going to take a moment to remind you that your father’s name was Fleamont,” says Remus.
He shakes his head. “My grandfather,” James says.
None of the boys know much about his grandfather, since he died while James was still in primary school, but Sirius lived with his parents for a time, and he knows James better than anyone else. So it is Sirius who asks, “Henry?”
“Harry,” corrects James. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but the baby stops squirming. “His name was Henry, but they called him Harry.”
“Harry Potter,” says Peter. “I like it.”
His son has a name. “Harry Potter,” James repeats quietly.
--
Ring Out - June 15, 2017
“Frank and Alice are engaged,” Sirius tells him as he slides a drink to James across the table.
James lifts the pint into the air. “Congratulations to them,” he says, and he means it. He knows many couples rushing to the altar these days, but Alice and Frank seem the best-suited for marriage of all of them. He takes a large swig of his firewhiskey.
Sirius raises an eyebrow. It takes no more than this movement for James to know what he will say next. Still, Sirius asks, “When are you going to ask her?”
“What, you reckon because everyone else we know is getting married, I ought to as well?” James asks, mirroring his friend's expression.
Sirius snorts. “No, I reckon that you're horrendously in love with Evans and want to ask her to be your wife.”
James takes another drink. “We're in the middle of a war, Padfoot.”
“Seems to be reason enough for everyone else,” Sirius counters, shrugging.
“Exactly," says James firmly. “I don't want Lily to marry me because she's afraid we're doing to die.”
Sirius pauses, reaching for his own firewhiskey. After a moment, he lowers his glass and shrugs once more. “We might.”
“We might not.” James retorts. He runs a hand through his hair. “I'd rather wait for her to be certain.”
“You're living together," Sirius says, and when James opens his mouth he shakes his head. “You say you live with me but you spend more time at Lily's than you do at ours.”
James chuckles. “So your concern is that we’re living in sin? Talk about glass houses, mate.”
thanks for the ask!! let’s have some angst for lilith now, ,,
1.
I’d already slipped my shoes off, my jacket discarded on top, and I went to curl up to the stone. Earth crawled between my toes, but I liked it. It wasn’t like the soil at home— there was no nourishment in these bone-sands that could help in any way— and the poppy I’d planted was already withering. I plucked it out, tossing it onto the tarmac.
2.
They say not to speak ill of the dead. Especially if the dead was someone you loved and had forgotten, someone whose grave was your safe space. ”She didn’t seem like a good person, ” was all I muttered. Traitor.
3.
”Can you guys not?” A sudden rage puppeteered the simple phrase, a physical manifestation of the recent week. Like the whirlpool of chaos had trickled into those four words. They started back at me in surprise. I knew the feeling of shock that would jolt through you when you realise that someone’s voice could cross their average frequency. Strange, how that feeling mirrored on other people’s faces could stir up the unease in your gut.
ahh lilith my love i’ve so much more in store for you 🤠
‘I self destruct and run away. I rather call it off and not deal with the pain of a simple fight that will eventually end with heartbreak down the line,’ she whispered. He glanced down at her, slightly moving his head at an angle, a solemn look crossed his face, ‘Then how about you just push it off,’ he flicked his hand as though waving something away, ‘self destruct later. And when you feel as though you’re about to again, let me know and I can persuade you to push it off again.’
