garret room

Ladies and Gentleman

I would like to induct
Chris Cornell into my personal Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

No one is ever prepared to hear about a death in the family .

And today Chris Cornell my brother from my Seattle music family is gone.

Devastating.

He was such an unwitting and reluctant BIG STAR .

Such a purist with a problem.

What we used to call “the Seattle musicians disease”

Chris was among the greatest of Seattles most reluctant rock heroes.

Like Elvis Presley in the wrong decade Chris was way to handsome and way to talented. He was never going to be a poster boy.

Instead he raged and railed like all of us in the 90s against the blatant 80s commercialism and marketing with the pure Seattle punk guitar rock ethic.

We were not tan and squinting at cameras just soul searching sequestered souls indoors from the ever present blue Seattle rain.

From those basements garrets phosphorescent rehearsal rooms came the soul of a sound like no other.
The Seattle Explosion.

Chris Cornell’s astounding god gifted voice cut through all that thick grey weather like a sun bolt.

His beyond good looks and beyond talent were an embarrassment of riches.
I knew that was his big problem before I hardly ever had a chance to hang with him.

He was so moody singular and complex.
From all accounts he was self absorbed and hard to love.
Like the best lead singers are required to be.

I thought he was judgmental of Heart since we had succeeded through a cultural system that he pushed against.

I thought his voice would forever grace the world of music.
But today the grey clouds rain tears.
And the tears taste salty.
Just like the ocean.
- Nancy Wilson’s statement on Chris Cornell’s passing

The Dark Horizon: Chapter 1

AU. Liam survives the journey back from Neverland, and he and Killian become outlaws on the run, fighting the corrupt king and faced with adventures and dark secrets beyond their imagining. Will be Lieutenant Duckling in later chapters.

From where he stood at the window of the cabin, Killian Jones could see all the world reeling below him, the glittering sunlit sea unfurling like splashes of paint to every corner of the map. The ship soared lower and lower through the drifting clouds, the Pegasus sail blooming in the wind as they angled in for the landing. It had been a nerve-wracking journey back from that place called Neverland, especially knowing what waited for them at the end, but all he cared about was his brother’s life. After that horrifying episode with the plant that turned out to be a deadly poison (the bastard had always been too stubborn for his own good) and the mysterious boy in green showing him the spring behind the vines and its healing water, everything had been a blur. How deciding to rebel against the king, taking a stand against his cruel and cowardly deception and leaving the Navy that had been their entire life and purpose, had gotten fit into the agenda he was still rather unclear, but Liam was alive and breathing and safe, and so the world could go on another day. I will follow you to the ends of the earth, brother. And might well have to, depending on how far the king’s wrath would chase them. But not now. Not yet.

Killian braced himself as the Jewel touched down, kicking up a fantail of water. A smile spread across his face as he peered out at the docks hurrying closer. “What do you think?” he asked. “Care for a bit of company when we get back to the admiralty?”

Keep reading

Second Year House Wars

“I can’t believe we’re finally back to this school. I thought for sure I was going to get kicked out last year,” Emerald smiles to her best friend as they walk into the castle with a large smile on her face.

Originally posted by fre4aky-princess

“Tell me about it, I thought for sure that you would have gotten kicked out by now,” Garret teases back, taking in the interior of the wizard school around them. He really missed his days at Hogwarts, especially since things have not been going well at home with him and his mom. Being back at the wizard school with his best friend made him feel like nothing could go wrong.

As they walked to the to the dining hall to watch the sorting, both of the second years’ eyes scanned the crowd for familiar faces, whether it made them happy or mad.

While he was scanning the room, Garret caught his eyes on a Slytherin male. The Hufflepuff found himself staring at the attractive male, wanting to walk over to him. He couldn’t seem to get control of his feet, however, just leaving him to stare at the Slytherin.

@aandag

Books, books, books!
I had found the secret of a garret room
Piled high with cases in my father’s name;
Piled high, packed large,–where, creeping in and out
Among the giant fossils of my past,
Like some small nimble mouse between the ribs
Of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there
At this or that box, pulling through the gap,
In heats of terror, haste, victorious joy,
The first book first. And how I felt it beat
Under my pillow, in the morning’s dark,
An hour before the sun would let me read!
My books!
—  Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh

thepurplemadness  asked:

Your OQ Crusades fanfic made me tear up. That is very difficult to accomplish in me. You're very talented with your historical knowledge and intense descriptions of the fics you write!!! Wow!! Could I please ask you to do a prompt on OutlawQueen during WWII?? If you don't want to, I would understand, though. :-)

Regina does not want the boy to come to Briargate Manor.

She and her son have lived alone for eleven years in the wild, rustic Yorkshire countryside, in the sprawling old ivy-crawling house that she inherited from her father, Sir Henry Mills. Theirs is an ancient and wealthy family line dating back to the Conquest, but they’ve fallen on hard times during the war (like everyone else) and the promise of being paid to take in a child from London, escaping the Blitz, is one she can’t pass up. She can only imagine what her mother would say. Lady Cora’s shade haunts these old halls, stalking her daughter whenever Regina thinks she’ll find a moment’s peace. A relentless social climber, always thinking her husband was a buffoon to stop at settling for a knighthood, a heartless, diamond-bedecked matron who somehow arranged for Regina’s youthful love, a manservant at the estate named Daniel, to meet a conveniently tragic end. She married Lord Leopold Whitesnow soon after, a properly pedigreed match. Loveless. She was profoundly grateful when he died after catching a chill during a fox hunt.

Regina adopted her son, Henry, soon after. He is the only person who has ever loved her, since Daniel. She’s never seen the need to remarry. She’ll never give up her position and power. Yet it’s only a dream now. Only a dream.

The boy’s name is Roland. He’s five years old. His mother is dead. His father is a pilot in the RAF, flying bombing runs on the war machines of Nazi Germany, engaging in aerial dogfights with the Luftwaffe, quickly becoming so infamous for his kill count that it’s rumored Hitler will personally pay a bounty for his head. They call him Robin Hood, after another legendary English hero. The troops need anything to keep up morale. Britain is being pummeled. America refuses to enter the war.

Regina keeps Roland in a spare garret room. It’s drafty up there, but she supposes he can endure a bit of privation in exchange for not being bombed. She’s fine with the arrangement until Henry complains; he’s befriended the boy, despite her best efforts to impress on her son that Roland is something lower than a guest and certainly not part of the family. Henry calls her an evil stepmother, which stings. But she lets Roland move his bedroom closer to the main house; there are countless unused rooms in Briargate, dusty and closed off and cold. There’s plenty of space to run on the moors, though she gets nervous when Henry’s out of her sight too long. This place is still wild, she knows. She can’t shake the fear he might be snatched under a faerie barrow, even though it’s ridiculous. He will grow up and go to Oxford or Cambridge, become a barrister or a MP or something else suitable.

She’s become more like her mother than she thought.

She wonders if there will even be an Oxford or a Cambridge for Henry to go to. She wonders if there will even be a future.

Sometimes she dreams of the bombs falling in London. Imagines Roland’s father flying over the Channel in a tiny screaming Spitfire. Can see her whole world crumbling to ashes, and doesn’t know how to fly.

Time passes. America is bombed by the Japanese, and finally enters the war. Italy surrenders. Erwin Rommel, Hitler’s Desert Fox, proves too honorable for his Nazi superiors and is quietly taken out of action (it is rumored) by the Reich itself, after whispers that he was linked to the plot to assassinate the Fuhrer. The D-Day landings stun the world. The Pacific theater remains a bloodbath. Victory in Europe inches closer.

Somewhere along the way, Regina has started to hope that there is a future for herself and her son after all.

Somewhere along the way, she’s started to care so intensely for her foster child, the one she used to force to sleep in the drafty attic, that she knows it will break her in half when Roland leaves.

They celebrate with half of Yorkshire when the news crackles over the radio that Germany has surrendered.

A few weeks later, Roland’s father arrives to claim his son. His name turns out to be Robin after all. He is tall, scarred, blonde, rugged, with eyes that always seem to see through her, relieving his years in the war. He doesn’t talk about what he’s seen or where he’s been. Yet his smile is still enough to light up the drafty halls of Briargate. Henry takes an instant shine to him. Robin means to stay a week and then leave, but somehow it gets delayed once and then again. He plays with both Henry and Roland; he has an effortless manner with them that Regina can’t help but admire. He completes their lonely little household. He walks her to evensong on Wednesday night, along the country lane to the tiny Norman church; it’s the first time Regina has gone in years.

When they sing the Magnificat, she weeps so hard her heart breaks.

Robin quietly gives her his handkerchief. Squeezes her hand.

She cannot stand to let him go either.

Now or ever.

As they’re walking home in the warm summer twilight, she blurts it out. Asks him if he wants to stay. Him and Roland both. For as long as they want. She can’t believe she made herself so vulnerable, can’t believe she’s such an idiot. Now he’ll go. Of course he will.

They’re married in the same church six months later.

The world will go on after all.