“White mask, white mask," Charlie watched silently as his mother sang to his younger brothers, tapping her nose to emphasize where the mask would be, and felt sick now that he was old to understand the meaning - the warning - of the song. ”Out on an evil task! Be still and silent,“ Here she put a finger to her lips as a shh gesture that had George giggle quietly when Fred copied it, ”Hidden from one so violent, as a white mask, white mask,“ Another tap on the nose at each ‘mask’, ”Out on an evil task!“
”Run, run far away,“ He watched as his mother spared Bill a terribly sad smile when Charlie’s older brother chimed into the song from where he was playing with Percy. ”When you see as clear as day,“
Charlie swallowed before joining in on the last two lines of the song, ”A white mask, white mask - out on an evil task!“
MOLLY RINGWALD: Growing up, were you obsessed with girls, as so many of your male characters are?
JOHN HUGHES: No. I was obsessed with romance. When I was in high school, I saw Doctor Zhivago every day from the day it opened until the day it left the theater. The usher would say, “Hiya, your seat’s ready.” And I just sat there, glued to the screen. Most of my characters are romantic rather than sexual. I think that’s an essential difference in my pictures. I think they are more accurate in portraying young people as romantic - as wanting a relationship, an understanding with a member of the opposite sex more than just physical sex.
MR: What about teen sex in your movies? You never show it in Sixteen Candles or Breakfast Club. Did you want to leave it up to the viewer’s imagination? Or were you just looking for a PG rating?
JH: No. What’s the point? In Sixteen Candles, I figured it would only be gratuitous to show Samantha and Jake in anything more than a kiss. The kiss is the most beautiful moment. I was really amused when someone once called me a purveyor of horny sex comedies. He listed Breakfast Club and Mr. Mom in parentheses.
MR: Oh, god!
JH: I thought, “What kind of sex?” Yes, in Mr. Mom there’s a baby in a bathtub and you see it’s bare butt. And in Breakfast Club, there’s some kissing.
MR: You wouldn’t believe how many people came up to me after they saw Breakfast Club and said, “So what really happened between you and Judd in the closet?”
JH: Older people or younger people?
MR: Mostly older people.
JH: Yes, older people asked me that question too.
MR: I never even thought about that. I did a phone interview and somebody said, “So, what really happened in the closet?” And I thought, “Why are you asking me that? What happened was shown there on the screen.”
JH: Yes. The only thing we took out of the scene was a bit of dialogue. You walked into the closet, and I cut away to the other story I was telling.
MR: You did cut out one great kiss between Judd and me, though.
JH: Too much kissing. I find that screen kissing wears very thin very quickly. I go into the editing room and say, “Less, less.” Why watch someone kissing when people really close their eyes when they kiss?
MR: I see your point, but I just thought you cut out a great kiss. Anyway, would a woman like Kelly LeBrock have been your ideal when you were a teen?
JH: No. Too scary.
MR: So why did you create the character she played in Weird Science?
JH: Well, the object there was -
MR: That she taught them a lesson, right?
JH: You’re making fun of me.
MR: No. I’m sorry. Go on.
JH: Two lonely guys tried to create the perfect woman. But, they didn’t. They created a physical fantasy who turned out to be an actual person. They hadn’t planned on getting a real person, just a great body. They were concentrating on the physical, which is only a very small part of anybody’s identity.
MR: Isn’t it a contradiction to talk about how kids have more on their minds than just sex and cars and then show two characters dreaming up the perfect mate? That was purely sexual. They didn’t even want to give her a brain at first.
JH: No. I don’t think there’s a contradiction, because when those guys got her, sex was the last thing on their minds. They wanted a girl, but they had no idea what girls were. They didn’t understand them at all, because girls weren’t really accessible to them. So, their concept of girls was media-based.
MR: Do you think that goes for most teenagers?
JH: I don’t think so, no. There’s a very fine line there. And it’s a line that I probably didn’t respect enough in directing the film. You know those sexy pinup posters people put up in their bedrooms? I always saw them as being kind of silly and vacant. That was to be the point of the movie - that this glistening body in this semi-revealing outfit with this come-on look on the face is a real empty, pointless image to carry around or to look for.
MR: So, which of your characters were you most like while growing up?
JH: I was a little bit like Samantha. A lot of my feelings went into her character. I was also very much like Allison in Breakfast Club. I was a nobody. And I’m also a lot like Ferris Bueller.
MR: But of all the characters, which would you say is most like you?
JH: Most like me? I’m a cross between Samantha and Ferris.
MR: How did you write the story of Pretty In Pink?
JH: You told me about the Psychedelic Furs’ song.
MR: About Pretty In Pink? I just love that song.
JH: And the title stuck in my head. I thought about your predisposition toward pink. I wrote Pretty In Pink the week after we finished Sixteen Candles. I so desperately hate to end these movies that the first thing I do when I’m done is write another one. Then I don’t feel sad about having to leave and everybody going away. That’s why I tend to work with the same people; I really befriend them. I couldn’t speak after Sixteen Candles was over. I returned to the abandoned house, and they were
tearing down your room. And I was just horrified, because I wanted to stay there forever.
MR: Do you think you’ll always work with young actors?
JH: Not every time, maybe, but …
MR: You won’t abandon them?
JH: No, I won’t abandon them.
MR: Do you think the Brat Pack’s recent obnoxious image is deserved, or does the press just pick on them because of their age?
JH: I think that this clever moniker was slapped on these young actors, and I think it’s unfair. It’s a label.
MR: People my age were just beginning to be respected because of recent films such as yours, and now it’s like someone had to bring them down a peg or two, don’t you think?
JH: There is definitely a little adult envy. The young actors get hit harder because of their age. Because “Rat Pack” - which Brat Pack is clearly a parody of - was not negative. “Brat Pack” is. It suggests unruly, arrogant young people, and that description isn’t true of these people. And the label has been stuck on people who never even spoke to the reporter who coined it.
MR: Such as myself. I’ve been called the Women’s Auxiliary of the Brat Pack.
JH: To label somebody that! It’s harmful to people’s careers. At any rate, young people support the movie business, and it’s only fair that their stories be told.
MR: A lot of people said in the reviews of The Breakfast Club, “Why should somebody make a movie about teenproblems?” I couldn’t believe that. I mean, we are a part of this society …
JH: I think it’s wrong not to allow someone the right to have a problem because of their age. “People say, "Well, they’re young. They have their whole lives ahead of them. What do they have to complain about?” They forget very quickly what it’s like to be young.
MR: Who would want to remember? I’m tortured. People forget the feeling of having to go to school on Monday and take a test in physics that you don’t understand at all. It’s hard. Right now, I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.
JH: Ferris has a line where he refers to his father’s saying that high school was like a great party. Ferris knows what his father was like, and he knows that his father has just forgotten the bad parts. Adults ask me all sorts of baffling questions, like, “Your teenage dialogue - how do you do that?” and “Have you actually seen teens interact?” And I wonder if they think that people under twenty-one are a separate species. We shot Ferris at my old high school, and I talked with the students a lot. And I loved it, because it was easy to strike up a conversation with them. I can walk up to a seventeen-year-old and say, “How do you get along with your friends?” and he’ll say, “Okay.” You ask a thirty-five-year-old the same question, and he’ll say, “Why do you want to know? What’s wrong? Get away from me.” All those walls built up.
MR: Do you think that society looks at teenagers differently today than when you were one?
JH: Definitely. My generation had to be taken seriously because we were stopping things and burning things. We were able to initiate change, because we had such vast numbers. We were part of the baby boom, and when we moved, everything moved with us. But now, there are fewer teens, and they aren’t taken as seriously as we were. You make a teenage movie, and critics
say, “How dare you?” There’s just a general lack of respect for young people now.
MR: I think so, too. What were you like growing up?
JH: I was kind of quiet. I grew up in a neighborhood that was mostly girls and old people. There weren’t any boys my age, so I spent a lot of time by myself, imagining things. And every time we would get established somewhere, we would move. Life just started to get good in seventh grade, and then we moved to Chicago. I ended up in a really big high school, and I didn’t know anybody. But then The Beatles came along.
MR: Changed your whole life?
JH: Changed my whole life. And then Bob Dylan’s Bringing It All Back Home came out and really changed me. Thursday I was one person, and Friday I was another. My heroes were Dylan, John Lennon and Picasso, because they each moved their
particular medium forward, and when they got to the point where they were comfortable, they always moved on. I liked them at a time when I was in a pretty conventional high school, where the measure of your popularity was athletic ability. And I’m not athletic - I’ve always hated team sports.
MR: You’ve been sticking pretty close to Chicago, but now that you and your family have made the transition to L.A., do you think you’ll go back and film everything in Chicago?
JH: I think I will. I’m very comfortable there. It’s out of the Hollywood spotlight. And I like the seasons.
MR: What about what you were saying about the way Dylan and Lennon were constantly moving forward? Don’t you think you’ve done a lot of movies about Chicago?
JH: No, they weren’t about Chicago. Chicago’s a setting.
MR: But, they’re about suburban life …
JH: I think it’s wise for people to concern themselves with the things they know about. I don’t consider myself qualified to do a movie about international intrigue - I seldom leave the country. I’d really like to do something on gangs, but to do that, I’ve gotto spend some time with gang members. I’d feel extremely self-conscious writing about something I don’t know.
MR: I think one of the most admirable things about you is that you do write about the things you know and care about. I think that teen movies were getting a bad reputation because these fifty-year-old guys were writing about things they didn’t care about.
JH: I love writing. When I finish a script, it’s a joy to sit down and go all the way through it. It’s a very private thing, because a screenplay is not like a book. When a book is written, it’s a final product. But, when a script is finished, it’s really just a blueprint. And it’s an extraordinary experience for me to watch someone take what I wrote and imagined and make it three-dimensional. And it’s great if someone adds something I hadn’t thought of.
MR: Would you consider yourself fashion-conscious?
JH: Yeah, I think so, as far as I’m conscious of everything. I’m a former hippie, so clothes are important to me - your clothes defined you in that period. I guess clothes still defines people. But, I change a lot. I’m in my Brooks Brothers period now. I think when I first met you, it was -
MR: High-top tennis shoes.
JH: Yeah? But I’ve changed.
MR: So how does your wardrobe define you?
JH: My wardrobe is a hundred shirts, and I don’t like any of them. How does that define me? Well, I get bored easily. I have a real short attention span, and that feeling transfers to clothes as well. And if I see somebody else wearing the same thing I am, I always think he looks better. I admire people like Judd Nelson, who have an innate sense of fashion. Judd could wear a bathrobe and sanitarium sandals and a fedora and look good.
MR: If you weren’t in film, what might you like to do?
JH: I’ve always wanted to be in music, but I’m not talented at all. Now I just go to concerts, and I’m fascinated by the bands and their music. When I go to a concert, I can’t believe that people pay lots of money to see a band that they obviously like and then they dance the whole time.
MR: But a lot of people dance as a way of communicating.
JH: You can go home and put the record on and dance. I want to watch how the band does it. I want to look at their faces.
MR: When we went to see Squeeze, these girls were standing on their chairs and getting on top of people’s shoulders to dance with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. They were right behind me and my sister, and we were tempted to do something violent! It really bugs me when people act like going to concerts gives them license to act like jerks. But I don’t mind people dancing. In fact, I hate it when people say, “Sit down, sit down” when I want to dance.
JH: I suppose it would be really alarming to an artist to play in a concert and see everybody just watching.
MR: Oh, that’s terrible!
JH: I’m one of those who do that.
MR: Yeah, I’ve been to a concert with you.
JH: I’m not a good-time guy. I’m not one of those guys who says, “Oh, we had some good times last night.” I’m just not.
MR: But you wanted to be in a band at one point?
JH: Yeah, but I’m too old for that now. Rock ‘n’ roll is a young form. People over twenty-five ruin it. This whole censorship thing has come about because old people are playing with a form that is essentially young and rebellious. Do you know how brilliant it was for The Beatles to break up when they did?
MR: Yes, it was great. But I don’t think rock 'n’ roll burnout has anything to do with age. I just think that people can go only so far. People reach a point.
JH: I can’t deny people their art form. But you have to be challenged, and you have to meet that challenge.
MR: What are your favorite bands?
JH: The Beatles and The Clash are the greatest. I’ve listened to the Beatles’ White Album for more than sixteen years, and when we were filming Ferris Bueller, I listened to the album every single day for fifty-six days.
MR: That’s the album I listened to all during Pretty In Pink, remember?
JH: Yeah, I know.
MR: How do you see yourself changing in the next fifteen years?
JH: Growing older.
MR: I know.
JH: It’s a foregone conclusion. What’s next for you?
MR: I don’t know. I’d like to finish high school, and I’m totally late on everything to do with my SATs. I’m going to apply to colleges soon. So do you have anything you’re dying to do?
JH: I have a hundred things I’m dying to do. Make that a hundred and four. I’m going to write for a while. Going to see Pretty In Pink. Get to go sit in theaters and look at the film with great pride. I like watching you work - you know that.
SUMMARY: You’re Molly’s best friend and have finally helped her get over Sherlock and her douchebag ex and finally found her a nice guy. Tonight he’s going to propose so you help Molly get ready then send her off for her big night. But when you bump into someone strangely familiar you decided to just go for it. It is only dinner!
A/N: Guys, I’mm sorry this sis so shit I’m so stressed and busy with college work I haven’t had time to write anything properly any anything I have started is getting done very slowly. So I will post those eventually, for now, you’ll have to deal with this. SORRY
Molly held up the dress she had picked out and grinned as she checked herself out in the mirror. I was so happy that this match had actually worked. Molly finally had a boyfriend and after tonight a possible fiancée not that she knew about that, though.
I’d been friends with Molly since university. We shared a flat during the first year and became firm friends since. She was shy and quiet while I was generally quite loud and outgoing, not to say I didn’t have my quiet moments I just was better at speaking to people I didn’t know. I’d set Molly and James up, had Sherlock double-check my assumptions on him to see if he wasn’t a complete pyscho like the rest of Molly’s choices had been in the past and the rest, as they say, is history.
James had called me yesterday asking whether I thought it was a good time to propose and of course I agreed. The pair were practically inseparable, so loved up it was almost sickening. But I was happy. My best friend had got her happy ending. And as much as she protested I did not need my own to be happy.
I had an amazing job, an amazing flat and an amazing set of friends and a dog named Richard. I didn’t need anyone else.
Molly got dressed and we chatted while she got ready. She did her hair fairly plainly and her make-up was a slight glammed up look of her usual. She looked gorgeous.
I walked her to the restaurant that she was meeting James, cursing when I realised how far it actually was and how bad my shoes were at long distances. Either way, it gave me time to give Molly her ‘pre-date pep talk’ not that she really needed it anymore, she practically lived with the guy nowadays but it had become a bit of a tradition between us. She gave the same speech to me before any date I went on too so it was equal.
I dropped her off and waved, pretending to act like a proud mother crying as she sent her children off to school for the first time. This made Molly laugh and I knew everything was going to be okay. My Molly was growing up!
I began walking back, deciding to go the different way home through Central London, my favourite part of the city. It took a lot longer and I really should take a taxi but it was such a nice evening and I loved walking beside the Thames at this time of day. The water always looked so pretty, reflecting the burning colours in the sky, much nicer than the murky grey visible during the day.
I strolled along, humming a song I’d heard on the radio earlier having a really nice time when suddenly someone crashed into me. They knocked me back so I fell onto the pavement, tripping on my feet.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” They apologised, helping me up.
“Oh crap I’m sorry,” I apologised at the same time, as I bent down to pick up the man’s umbrella. A strange thing to be calling round in the middle of summer but whatever.
“It’s no problem, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” The man shrugged.
“No, you weren’t really,” I laughed, “I’m sorry but I feel like we’ve met before. Do you know Sherlock Holmes?”
“Sherlock? Yes… who are you?”
“Y/n. Y/n l/n. I used to live upstairs from him a while ago. I swear I saw you there before,”
“You’re the girl with the assassin for a brother,”
“Yep!” I laughed, trying to hide my embarrassment. “Unfortunately so,”
“Well, Y/n. You were right in thinking we’d met before,” The man nodded with a smirk planted on his lips. “Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock’s brother,”
I was taken back for a moment. This was Mycroft? The big, bad, drug searching, the British government, eating all the cakes Mycroft. Sherlock had certainly painted a seriously warped picture of his brother for me. The man that stood before me now was nothing like how I’d imagined. Though, to be fair I had imagined someone that looked like the fat controller mixed with Sheldon from The Bing Bang Theory.
The real Mycroft was very well dressed, obviously intelligent and had an air of high class and mystery about him. If I didn’t know any better I would have just taken him for some stick up the ass bank CEO.
“You’re Mycroft?” I asked, amazed and in disbelief. Mycroft laughed and seemed surprised that I was so amazed.
“Yes, that’s my name,”
“I’m sorry, it’s just Sherlock has told me a lot about you and well-“
“He is a drama queen,” Mycroft rolled his eyes, I laughed in agreement.
“Well, how about you tell me about yourself over dinner tonight,” I sudden flurry of confidence suddenly coming from nowhere, “Seeing as Sherlock has over dramatised everything about you that I can visibly see,”
“Sure,” Mycroft shrugged, “I have nothing else to do tonight I suppose,”
“You had dinner with my brother!”
“Yes, I’ve had dinner with your brother lots of times now, Sherlock. Is it really that bad that someone might be interested in him?”
If they where to ever redo the Dresden Files show I would love to have it animated, one thing they missed that was so minor on the shows in the height different between Karen and Harry. Paul Blackthorn is tall at 6'4 almost as tall as Dresden (over 6'6) but Valerie Cruz is only 5'6 not nearly short enough. Animated this would help with the difference.
Also if you wanted to have Molly grow up, the books she ages to a young lady. Then to do it on live action you have to one, change her age at the beginning, which ruins her child infatuation, change actresses, though possible I hate when they do that or CGI the actress to a younger self and I don’t like that either.
Another bonus with it animated is you can get amazing actors to be character who would not fit in the series. Because I’m addicted to the audio books I would love James Marsters to play Harry, and as a voice actor he can, live action at 5'9 again he is not tall enough. You can get amazing voice talents who do not look anything like the character they voice.
Finally animated you can do far more amazing displays of magic and scenery without special effects or expensive prop work. The stone table can be done easily. Magic and summoning, Sue, even Demonreach can be done without worry about blowing a large budget.
Hopefully they get a good crew to write the show. Keeping the same rules of magic that Jim Butcher has made. That’s the largest complaint I heard about the tv series. The first scene is Harry sleeping with a girl, he uses a hockey stick not a staff, non verbal spells, even Bob is totally wrong. No I would insist that Jim have a large say in the series making it so it’s very accurate to what we love. I know every episode can’t be a book or short story, but even the new episodes follow the way the universe is set up already.
Damn…. The whole fandom is upside down…
Sherlock season 4 was a hectic, chaotic, impressive and intense season.
With high ups and deep downs. We saw Sherlock and John hit the ground. But we also saw them coming back up. We saw a side of Mycroft we’ve never expected, we got to see Greg working on his future, we saw that Mrs. Hudson is more than just a landlady, we saw John telling Sherlock he isn’t a machine, and we saw Sherlock getting more human than he ever had been before. We’ve seen how his brain works. How he is capable to delete things from his brain and create his own reality instead. We saw how friendship becomes more important then ever before.
It was gorgeous. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, there were a lot of open endings and a lot of questions that stayed unanswered.
But that’s were the fandom comes in. We make our own story’s, our own deductions.
Some of us will let Sherlock find love in his new found family, some of us will make Mary into a hero, some of us will make Mycroft and Lady Smallwood a thing. While others rather see Sherlolly instead of Johnlock, or Mystrade instead of Smallcroft. What will happen to Eurus? What will become of Molly? How will Rosamund grow up? There are a lot of story’s to tell.
And that’s a gift. A gift given to us from the writers. They gave us the opportunity to create, fantasise, dream. They gave us the opportunity to make our own story’s.
So let us just enjoy this great series, these great actors and writers who made this happen. Who made this real for us. And stop being negative about this season. Even if there isn’t going to be a fifth season, we shouldn’t see this as an ending, but as a new beginning.
I’ve just finished re-watching a TJ*C video about Molly being a mirror for John. I won’t get into details as this post would turn out to be the longest I ever wrote and I’m not even that competent with the English lanuage to get the point across.
What really annoys me, beside the cherry-picking technique used to support J*hnl*ck being endgame (which works like this: I will ignore anything that goes against my idea and pick the good things only and make them HUGE), is the fact that Molly is being dismissed as someone Sherlock simply doesn’t like, because he’s actually in love with John.
I’m nobody to say that is 100% wrong and I’m positive it will never happen, since that would be untrue. I’m the first Sherlolly shipper to think Sherlolly has little to no chance to be canon (and, guess what?, I couldn’t care less. I will go down with my ship and have a terrific time while doing so), therefore if J*hnl*ck will turn out to be canon, well, there must be a good reason… go for it, Moftiss.
I have good reasons to believe Molly is not just an unlucky, forlorn version of John and his feelings for Sherlock.
First of all, we tend to forget a simple truth: the bond between John and Sherlock is not their affection. That came second. The first thing that made them the couple we know them to be is their need for a fix: John is adrenaline addicted and Sherlock must use his racing mind on tricky cases otherwise he’ll get crazy. Sherlock, just like Mycroft soon afterwords, identifies John as such (an adrenaline addict) as soon as they meet. Mike Stamford, who seems to know John quite well, immediately reckons he would be the best flatmate for Sherlock because they share the same problem: they both need action, mysteries and crime solving. What would be an issue for most people (having a crazy flatmate with a thing for crime solving) is actually a great thing for John - who complains that nothing happens to him. At the same time, John is a soldier - someone who lives on the battlefield and fights - and a doctor: he fights, he solves crimes and he has a lot of fun doing so, but he also cares for people and makes sure Sherlock doesn’t hurt them too much with his behaviour. That’s why they are so great together. Sherlock brings action to John’s life while John gives Sherlock the chance to solve crimes with some humanity. Their affection is an inevitable consequence of this new found balance, this win-win relationship.
So what about Molly?
John entered Sherlock’s life through an open door - the need to solve crimes - and gained his affection doing what they both love the most.
If you have any experience with children, you will know that the best thing to educate a child and make him a decent human being one day is to enter his world at his own level, which usually consists in playing.
Try to gain the respect of a child you’ve only just met simply telling him off! You won’t have any good result because you must show him that you actually want to do interesting things with him: laugh, run, play hide & seek.
You do that, then you give him rules and teach him things.
Now, Sherlock might have the body and the mind of an adult and a genius, but when it comes to his heart and social skills he’s very, very much of a child. Mycroft recalls the one time they tried to make friends as children and how unsuccessful their attempt was; while he seems to have found his own place in the world (with a great dose of cynism, that’s for sure); Sherlock has not been able to cope with the great difference between himself and his peers because he’s actually much softer and sensitive than he seems. The need to relieve this uneasiness brought him to drug use and crime solving as a distraction. Both these things isolated him even more, so we got a thirty-something, S1 Sherlock with no social skill whatsoever. A child in a man’s body with a brilliant mind. (Another evidence is the terrific interaction between Sherlock, John and Mary at the end of TSOT, where Sherlock clearly states he won’t be John’s only child for long).
John managed to gain his affection because they immediately, instinctively shared something vital for the both of them. Mycroft himself sees that and he promptly understand how important John will turn out to be for his little brother’s inner growth (S01E01).
Molly, on the other hand, could only choose the worst way ever to enter Sherlock’s life: sentiment. She offers him her heart together with her help, ignoring that Sherlock is totally not prepared to understand her feelings, and he will therefore use her to get the only thing she can actually give him - help, that is. This soon turns into something else: Molly grows up and learns to show herself some respect and make others do the same; Sherlock, thanks to what John has taught him, finally sees the real value of Molly - the one person who mattered the most to him.
Now, my shipper goggles would make me see how that could actually give us Sherlolly, but I’m not a very optimistic person, so I’ll just stick to this: Molly is no mirror. Molly is something completely different; and if you don’t see that, you have completely underestimated John Watson’s importance as well.
Hi! Could you do a Fred Weasley imagine where (actually can you use my name? Lyric, but if not that’s totally okay!) is at the burrow with her long time boyfriend Fred and it’s Christmas time. And Molly, Arthur, George, Harry, hermione, Ginny etc. are all in on a plan for Fred to purpose to Lyric or y/n!? And Fred says stuff along the line “I know we are young but…” Thank you so so much! xxx tbh your like one of my favorite blogs OMG
I was currently packing all the clothes I needed to spend Christmas break at the burrow. Fred seemed very nervous but very excited when I said yes to his proposal of coming to his house. Fred and I have been together happily for about three years coming up to our fourth next month. I went towards my closet to grab one last coat but, before I got in reach with it I heard a knock on the door. I ran to the door and opened it slightly to reveal a tall ginger smiling down at me. “Hi Freddie!” I opened the door all the way before giving him a light peck on the lips “I was just wondering if you were done packing? The train leaves in about an hour” he said wrapping his arms around my waist pulling me closer to his chest. “I’m almost done I just need one more sweater!” I said trying to get away from him so I can get the last item but, of course Fred was always stronger “Not until you say ‘I love you’” he smirked. I rolled my eyes Fred always did this to me; he started tickling me in the stomach making me scream “say it” he chuckled “I-l don’t love y-you! Stop I-it!” I screamed “say it!” He laughed putting me on the bed tickling me still. I screamed on last time before saying the words “I love you!” I laughed. I hit him in the chest when he stopped “I love you too” he said before leaning down and kissing me fully on the lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck tightly bringing him closer and he grabbed the bottom of my shirt trying to lift it up.
I pulled back “Fred we can’t! I mean like not right now we might be late for the train!” I laughed pushing him away “Five minutes is all I need honey!” He joked before pecking me on the lips again “Fred you dirty boy! Go get ready!” I giggled before pushing him out the door “see you later!” He yelled running the stairs. I laughed to myself grabbing a coat and stuffing it into my full luggage. I put on my boots, beanie and coat; and made my way downstairs with my luggage by my side. I met Fred in the common room where he surprised me with a large bouquet of red and gold roses “oh my… Thank you Freddie!” I said cheerfully as he put the flowers in my arms and kissed me passionately. I saw a flash of light which made me jump and pull back “sorry it’s for the…. Never mind!” squeaked Hermione putting the camera down. “It’s okay Hermione take one more!” Fred said putting an arm around me “smile!” He whispered looking at the camera. I smiled widely at the camera “Fred what’s this for?” I asked still smiling “it’s just something I wanted to do because I love you with all my heart Lyric” he smiled placing a kiss on my lips. “I love you too Fred” I almost cried “now let’s get going pumpkin! Don’t wanna be late for the train!” He smirked interlocking our fingers as we made our way out of the Gryffindor common room.
We went down to the station and out of nowhere The Golden Trio just took our luggages bringing them inside “Don’t worry about them pumpkin, we’ll get them later” he said pulling me into the train. He lead me into a compartment filled with pink Candles, Butterbeer, and Chocolate Frogs. “OMG Fred! This is beautiful!” I gasped “Anything for you” he whispered kissing my neck, I turned around “okay tell me! What’s all this for?” I giggled “You’ll just have to wait and see” he smirked. For the rest of the train ride we sat down, drank butterbeer, ate a few frogs, and shared a couple of laughs. Once the train slowed to a stop, the door opened and there stood Fred’s twin brother, George Weasley, with both of our luggages “well thank you my kind brother” Fred said royally “it was no problem your majesty” George smirked and left. “Let’s go mum’s dying to see you!” Fred laughed “why? I just saw her a couple weeks ago” I said confused “don’t worry you’ll know soon” he smirked. I sighed 'Fred’s up to something I just know it! But what is it?!’ I mentally screamed in my head.
Once we jumped off of the train I heard a voice sob my name “Oh Lyric!” I turned around and saw Mrs. Weasley crying into a handkerchief. I ran up to her and hugged her tightly “It’s nice to see you again Molly but, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I asked patting her back. “I-It’s just t-that my little F-Freddie is growing up s-so fast a-and he c-choose the p-perfect g-girl!” She wailed “Thank you, but it’s okay Molly everyone grows up quickly” I said giving her a warm smile. She hugged me tightly as I did the same. “Okay let’s get going so I can make dinner!” She sniffled leading the family to the car.
~Later That Night~
“Dinner’s almost ready! Five more minutes!” Mrs. Weasley yelled from the kitchen “Okay!” Everyone yelled so that she can hear our response. “Lyric! Come here!” I looked up from the fire to see Fred standing right next to the hallway entrance. I jumped out of my chair and made my way over to him. He grabbed both of my hands “look up” he smiled, I looked up slowly scared there might be a prank but, saw that it was a mistletoe. Once I looked at Fred he kissed me passionately grabbing my face with one hand, the other around my waist pulling me closer. I put my arms around his lower back area still kissing him with the same passion and roughness. I saw the same flash of light again from earlier but, when I whipped my head to the side I saw that it was Ginny holding the camera this time. I turned back to Fred with a wide smile in my face “Anymore Surprises handsome?” I giggled “yes, just one more” he said giving me a nervous smile and taking out a red velvet box.
My eyes widened when I saw Fred get on one knee and open the box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring. “Mum! It’s happening!” Ginny screamed loud enough for Molly to hear. She came running into the living room and started crying when she saw Fred on one knee. Another light flashed before Fred started to say something “Lyric, I know this is crazy of me to do, but I love you with all my heart and I want to start a family with you soon. I know were young but I couldn’t wait another day just to call you my beautiful wife. I love you Lyric and I want to marry you” he breathed out “so will you marry me and make me the happiest man alive?” He asked nervously. “Y-yes! Yes!” I screamed jumping into his arms and crying. “I-I love you s-so much F-Fred Weasley!” I sobbed into his shoulder “I love you too Lyric!” He said happily pulling back to slip the diamond ring onto my finger. “I love you with all my heart” he whispered into my ear hugging me again.
💙Oh My Lord! 801 Followers! You guys are just amazing! Thank you for all the support and kind words you guys give me!💙
“The crew and cast at Castle becomes more of a reality than the people I’ve known all my life” - Stana Katic
GQ: There is a special memory from this tv show that is dear to you, something you could share with us?
SEAMUS: Not one specific moment really, but a collective memory of spending most of my 30s with Nathan Fillion, Stana Katic and Jon Huertas and laughing my ass with those guys.
“The four of us, we’re there on a daily basis, we get along amazingly. I know that I wish I was able to work with Susan Sullivan a lot more, I wish I could work with Molly a lot more. I wish I was able to work with Tamala and Penny a lot more, because I like the true ensemble cast. It’s just the way the show is designed. But you know, we’ve watched Molly grow up, which has been amazing. And I really love Susan. She’s beautiful. I would make out with Susan Sullivan. I will make out with Susan Sullivan one day.” - Jon Huertas
“The guys are like brothers. Adorable, but dorks, but adorable.” - Stana on working with Nathan, Seamus and Jon
“Once I saw Tamala Jones in person, I was like, ‘I gotta put my lips on her!’” - Jon Huertas
“Oh, we are so girly. I’m not there all the time but when I do come we’re always catching up and talking about my personal life and her personal life. One of the latest conversations was when were we both planning to have children — if we did, when would we? We talk about taking care of our bodes and eating right. And, you know, talking about the guys on the show. We’re pretty cool.” - Tamala on her relationship with Stana Katic.
“Everybody is always teasing each other all the time. I work with a room full of boys basically - which is great because I get to be a little stinker too. For instance, sometimes when I am doing a scene with Jon Huertas… It will be my close up and we both share an affection for ‘The Princess Bride’. So he’s a big dork and I will give him an order as Beckett and he will sashay out of the scene as Esposito and just before he does - and it’s always on my close up - he’ll go “As you wish!” …and you’ll see sometimes they’ll keep it on my face and there is always a little twinkle in my eye.” - Stana Katic
“I even had to go to Andrew, “Andrew, are you sure? Am I enough? Can I do this?” And of course he was very nice, and he said, “We wouldn’t give it to you if you couldn’t.” We’re a family. We’re an absolute family, and that comes along with all the squabbles and everything. So I think we’re very normal, actually. We’re a very normal family doing extraordinary things on film, so I am very excited, and it has been just a wonderful journey.” - Molly Quinn
“Just really quickly, if you know me, and you guys - you know me, you know that I don’t like to learn anything. But despite my best efforts, I have learned in 100 episodes how much I rely - on how heavily I rely - on all of you. When people tell me, and they do, that they love this show I don’t think of the polished piece that we see on TV, I think about the hours we pull, the freezing outside, the laughs, hanging out, and being here. And I appreciate you all, and I look forward to coming to work and being with you all, all the time. Thank you very much.” - Nathan Fillion speech for the 100th episode
“It’s probably a tossup between Seamus and Nathan. Seamus doesn’t know he’s funny. So it’s funny to kinda listen to him and laugh a little bit at what he says, cause some crazy things come out of his mouth.” – Jon Huertas on who does make him laugh the most
“We’re like a love fest over there and it’s rare in this business. We really, really love each other.” - Tamala Jones
“I am crazy fortunate to have Andrew as the executive producer and creative entity on Castle. There are a couple of things that are amazing about working with a guy like this. First of all, the communication and the collaboration, and the clarity that this man has. I’m really a fortunate actress because I don’t know that a lot of people get that kind of producer to work with on a television show, especially on this kind of piece where you’re working many, many hours. He’s always open to dialogue, and he’s always got a reason for everything that he’s doing, and he’s always protective of the characters and of the story and of the show, and it’s truly wonderful to work with someone who’s just crazy intelligent and really just like a genuinely lovely guy.” - Stana on Andrew Marlowe
“I look at the way I interact with Nathan and Jon and Stana and we have a lot of fun together. People probably watch us in between takes and wonder how we get anything done. I’ve had a lot of laughs with those three in the past 5 years. I think the fun we have in real life permeates into the characters and the performances onscreen.” – Seamus Dever
“No, it’s that fun we have. It’s real. I’m so thankful they cast good, funny, interesting, warm, kind people in “Castle”, because we blend very well together. At this point it’s like a family. We help each other. I constantly ask them: “What’s funnier: if I do this or I do that?” And I don’t think we care anymore about looking weak or unprofessional. We all just want the best for each other and for the show.” – Seamus Dever
“We always have the writer of the episode sitting there on set so we can start fooling around with ideas, you know I have millions of ideas, 90% of them are terrible but when we have good ideas they’re so open, I’ve never had a job where it’s such a collaborative effort and really so open to any idea you have, even if it’s a terrible idea, you can say just give me one take and throw it in there, they indulge me they really do.” - Nathan Fillion
“I love doing ‘Castle.’ We pump out 24 episodes in 10 months, and we work long hours. We do lots and lots of takes, and everyone there is a talent machine. It is a taxing endeavour to say the least, but when you get into a groove, it doesn’t matter if you’re tired, it doesn’t matter if you’re sick. You can do it.” – Nathan Fillion
“I mean, I come to work every day and I don’t really think, ‘What’s in it for me?’ This is a real team effort, and when you’re here every day, when there’s 60 guys here and we’re all doing the same thing, and we’re all plugging away — and a lot of people here are working a lot harder than I am — I tend to think of it in terms of the well-being of the show.” – Nathan Fillion
“I love when a TV show, or entertainment in general, makes me feel something; be it positive, be it negative, be it happiness, be it awkward, uncomfortable… if it can make me feel, it’s done it’s job.” - Nathan Fillion
If you liked the Nieces preferences, this involves a couple of those little girls.
He was happy. He was supportive. He was proud. However, Michael was feeling incredibly sympathetic.
Never before had he properly appreciated the pain behind a goodbye hug at the airport. He had always been the one doing the leaving and while it was hard to walk away from home for months at a time, it felt a lot worse when you were the one being left behind as opposed to the one getting on the plane.
There wasn’t a selfish bone in Michael’s body that wanted to ask you to stay, to continue to be his supporter and visit him on tour, but he was still struggling to release his arms around your neck or take his chin off of the top of your head, even if your messy bun was making it hard for him to breathe. He didn’t care about the sound of clicking cameras and phones recording your departure, he could close his eyes and let the rest of the world fade away.
“You going to text me when you’ve landed?” He lifted up his head and smiled down at you, eyes wide with excitement for you. The last three years had been a constant adventure for him and you had soaked it all in through visits, phone calls, and video chats, but now you were going to have your own grand experience to write to him about and send him pictures of. Never in his life had he been so interested in Haiti, but now that you were off to spend a year building wells and helping run a girl’s shelter, he had been reading up on the Caribbean country. Of course, he was nervous for you, but he couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend who was cool enough to take something like this on. He was too chicken shit to go and live somewhere so different than where he was from. People thought Michael was brave to tour the world, but without a guitar in his hand, he was a knight without a shield, a soldier without any means of defense.
“Yeah. I promise.” You were sure that you had promised him about a dozen times since he picked you up for the airport that morning, but what was a thirteenth time? “We’re going to talk all the time, just like we do now.” You slid your hands from his back to his sides, comforting him by holding him place right in front of you.
“Are you and I ever going to be in the same place?” He looked down at the space between both of your sneakers and checked. His music was important to him as was your life, but he wondered sometimes if you two would ever sync up. Somehow, the connection you shared never wavered or died while you put oceans and miles between you both, but he always worried. You had to admit that it would be nice to wake up next to Michael every single day, but you had the rest of your life for that.
“One day.” Nodding, you confidently assured him, the bun on your head sliding back and forth like an unsteady marble on a table top. “And we’ll have interesting stories about all the things we did when we are finally living together, old and wrinkly by the beach.” You laughed and lit him up as well.
“I’m not going to be wrinkly, speak for yourself.” He unwrapped his arms from you and stroked one hand across your chin playfully before he picked up your hands off of his sides and held them between you both. “Promise me one more thing?”
“Oh my God, Michael, I’m not going to meet cute Haitian and stay there for good.”
“No.” He just laughed loudly at the thought. It hadn’t even occurred to him. Michael didn’t feel very confident about much, but he knew that you were as loyal as they came. “Promise me you’re going to have the best time, okay? Have fun, take pictures, make friends…” He watched your eyes with determination, making sure you were hearing everything he said. “Have the best six months of your life.” He didn’t want to let you go. Michael wouldn’t have complained for a second if you decided to stay. He wouldn’t try to talk you out of it, but he knew that you had to begin your own explorations. You were too amazing to keep to himself, so he was going to let you take on the world as long as he could watch you reign from the sidelines.
“Are you nervous?” In the mirror, Calum checked while waiting behind a row of cars in morning rush hour traffic. He hadn’t been in it for a long time since he had been away on the tail end of the South American leg of a tour, he had forgotten how painfully inactive the roads could be.
“No.” Daphne answered without having to think. She was sitting with remarkable patience in the backseat of her father’s sleek black sports car, staring out the window with her owl eyes, her stuffed bear thoughtlessly held in one hand. It was her first time wearing a uniform, the tartan blue tunic making her look something like an Australian Madeline. She wasn’t fidgeting with it though despite how she complained about being itchy at the breakfast table.
“Are you sure?” Calum asked, reaching over to turn down the volume dial of the radio. Daphne was immune to loud noise as she had grown up watching her father perform his music to screaming crowds, but Calum always tried to be mindful of her small ears and underdeveloped canals. He was nervous whether or not Daphne was. The first day of Kindergarten was a milestone. He remembered how she was slow to walk and thought that, maybe, they were rushing school on her. She was only four after all. What was one more year? “Are you excited?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, looking away from the row of shops she had been mindlessly staring at and looked ahead of herself, the back of her father’s head always recognizable. “’Nelope is there.” Luke’s daughter, older by two years, attended the same primary school and she had filled Daphne in on how much fun recess was.
“Yep. She is.” That should have comforted Calum some. All three of his bandmates had children in school, they had got through the first day of school hump, so he would survive too. They hadn’t really sounded emotionally torn though. He remembered Michael explaining that Emmeline screamed while his wife carried her from the car to the school building. Emmeline Clifford was calling her father before noon, in tears and wanting to be picked up. He hadn’t had any time to realize his daughter was growing up. Molly Irwin was so advanced that Ashton had put her into school when she was three. She spent two years in kindie and could already add and subtract with ease before the first grade. Luke looked on the bright side and just felt excited and proud when Penelope started to go to school. He said he felt old, but still happy. Calum wanted to sob. He just wanted to sit in traffic and keep Daphne to himself. She could already tie her own shoes and now she was about to learn other skills that he would become meaningless to her. He would have no use. “You know if you don’t like it, you can call me or your Mum, right?”
“You remember our numbers?” Since she was small, Calum and his girlfriend had been drilling all the phone numbers of important people into their daughter’s heads. It was just in case of emergency since she so far hadn’t had to use any of them. As if on cue, Daphne recited his cell phone number by heart and paused before saying the house phone’s digits. “And what did I tell you to do if someone is being mean?” He had never had to deal with bullies growing up, but he knew the reality of them and since his daughter wasn’t necessarily as quick as some kids, he worried she would be a target. Daphne was a little too oblivious and passive for her own good, but he prayed that would change overtime.
“To tell a teacher.” At first, Calum had prepared Daphne with cruel lines to use one anyone who dared to try and hurt her feelings, but he came back after a little re-thinking and just advised her to get a teacher.
When he finally pulled up in front of the school, Calum gripped the wheel and breathed deeply as he watched other parents hold the hands of their children on the way to the wooden doors, some even let their kids merrily skip in front of them without any concern for on-coming traffic. He unhooked his seatbelt from across his body and turned to watch Daphne in the backseat, kicking up her legs and staring at the blur of her reflection in her tiny black Mary Jane’s.
“Are you all set?” He checked only to earn a nod in return. “You’re not nervous?”
“I’m not nervous.” Confidently, she told him before picking up her bear and hugging him to her chest. In the letter they had received in the post from the school, the headmistress suggested a new child bring something comforting if need be and while Daphne didn’t say she wanted Mrs. Bear with her, Calum had suggested she bring it. It went all over the world with her when she came on tour with him and he liked the idea of her having it there when he wasn’t around. It had been the gift he bought her from the hospital store just hours after she was born.
“Alright. Let’s go.” He pushed open the door his car and then opened up the backseat, staring off at Sydney’s number one primary school ahead while Daphne wiggled out, nearly stepping in a puddle. He reached in after her and took out her Tom and Jerry backpack with it’s matching lunch tin inside and carried it with two fingers under the top flap, reaching down for her hand with his other.
“Some people are big.” Daphne noted as she walked fast in an effort to keep up with her father and his gangly legs. They stopped before crossing the road that separated the parking lot from the school, her eyes up and watching the older kids run around her.
“Are you nervous?” Calum checked again, but she insisted that she still wasn’t.
He thanked the man coming through the door as they entered, presumably another father, and led Daphne to room 112 where they had been told to go on the letter. Daphne peered inside the door and stepped back at the first sight of all the excitement buzzing inside. The room was practically screaming like a girl at a 5 Seconds of Summer concert.
“Are you feeling nervous, Daph?” Calum bent down on one knee, his eyes searching into hers as they matched in size. She was still looking into her soon to be classroom, but she wasn’t showing any signs of real emotion.
“No. I’m okay.” She licked her lips and nodded. “Are you okay?” Finally, she looked back at him and checked. He didn’t look okay, but she wasn’t sure how to verbalize her thought.
“I’m okay.” He couldn’t exactly tell her that he felt like he swallowed a brick and was terrified to let go of her hand even if he was covering her tiny fingers in his sweat. “You know you can wait another year if you want…if you’re not ready.”
“I want to go.” Daphne nodded, a half smile turning her lips sideways on her face. “There is Legos.” On the open house, she had sat on the clock themed rug and played with only the yellow building blocks while her parents chatted with the teachers and looked around the school. For her, that was all that mattered. There were Legos and Penelope Hemmings was just down the hall. Not to mention this thing called recess had captured her interest greatly.
“Alright. If you think you’re ready,” Calum nodded, trying to prepare himself. “Let’s go.” He picked up her backpack off the floor next to her and helped the blue straps over her frail arms before standing up and leading her into the classroom. She waddled right over to a round table and helped herself to an pint sized empty chair, squishing her backpack right against it. “I’m Daffy.” She rested her head on the bare table top and eyeballed the dark haired boy with frizzy hair beside her.
“My name is Flynn.” He said to her like he was reading off of a cue card.
“Dad?” After a moment, Daphne spoke up and held her head up on her neck, nearly dropping it backwards as she stared at him while he was standing.
“Yeah, baby? You wanna go?” He checked, snapping out of his thoughts as he had been looking around the classroom and looking for different fire hazards.
“You’re holding my hand still.” She reminded him, shifting her gaze from him to her hand to him again.
“Oh, sorry.” He hadn’t noticed, but he relinquished her quickly and put his hand up in his hair for something to do. Calum bent down at her side and gave her a tiny wet kiss on the forehead, lifting up her blunt bangs to do so. “You have fun today, okay?” Right as Daphne was nodding, another little girl rushed over to Calum, poking him sharply in the side.
“You’re from that band!” She shouted. “I know you.” She shrieked.
“That’s my Dad.” Daphne replied for him, reaching for his wrist with both her little hands that couldn’t fit around it.
“That’s cool.” The redhead girl giggled and gave her attention over to Daphne. “I’m Hannah. You should play house with us.”
Without a second thought, Daphne dropped her Dad’s wrists and slid out of her chair, following the girl who had just given her one of the greatest invites you could give a toddler. Calum sat on his bent knees for a moment, watching his daughter try to make friends in the far corner of the room. He could have sat there all day, but then Flynn sneezed right in his face, spraying him. Calum took it as a sign that he was too old to be there and stood up, brushing his knees, and left the room, looking forward to 4 PM when his daughter could come home and report to him the details of her first day.
He was trying to be cool. He watched against the kitchen sink, staring out the window with droopy hound dog eyes, as bags were being loaded into the bed of the used Ford parked outside his house. Ashton didn’t want to go out just yet and be a buzz kill. He felt very far away from ready to say goodbye, but he knew that she was going to be on her way in a matter of minutes. He had been warned be his own parents that this day would come, the day Molly grew up and was ready to be on her own. Life had tried to prepare Ashton for when his daughter was grown up. There had been the first time she told him that she didn’t need him to tuck her into bed followed a week later by her whining that she didn’t want him to cut her meat on the dinner plate for her. Ashton nearly had to excuse himself from the backstage makeshift dinner table to sob at the latter, but he held himself together and let Molly hold the fork and knife all on her own. He could still hear the dull metal scratching against the ceramic dish. The evenings where she insisted that she didn’t need to wear a jacket or when she waited for her one friend with a car to come pick her up in place of asking him for a ride to the cinema should have made this day easier, but it didn’t. He felt a bigger pain in his chest than he ever had at any point in Molly’s nineteen years of life. He remembered the time he left the stage in the middle of a set, dehydrated from a week of nonstop movement, and then Calum accidentally whacked him in the groin. Even that pain didn’t compare to the aching inside of his body right now.
Molly’s tight ponytail whipped around behind her head like the propellers of an airplane as she lifted another duct taped box from the ground and struggled to push it into the nearly full trunk. He knew he should have been out there helping, but his mind was in a different state. He was remembering how she would giggle at the top of her lungs, ponytail bouncing like her knees, as he chased her freely around their yard until she would stop abruptly and ask for a nap. He smiled at the memory and then exhaled in preparation. He couldn’t put it off. He had to face the day.
Ashton pushed his weight off of the sink and jogged out of the kitchen, closing his eyes in order to avoid seeing the pencil marks on the door frame that recorded his little girl’s growth over the years. He let the front door close behind him and rushed over to his bustling family, all gathered around the Ford.
“There you are.” Luke, Molly’s self-appointed Godfather, frowned at his friend as he finally made an appearance, backing away from the open door of the truck. He only just fit in a laundry hamper of her bedroom décor and knick knacks after what felt like an hour of struggling and cursing under his breath.
Ashton took a heavy box marked “BOOKS” from his wife’s hands and carried it the last few steps to the trunk, lifting up the tailgate after and slamming it shut.
“I was just making sure she had everything.” He lied, smacking Luke on the back playfully. “You got everything?” He checked, walking right up to Molly as she was squeezing her brother into a tight hug, the kind they had not shared in years.
“Yeah. I’m ready.” She ruffled her brother’s hair and nodded at her father, her smile so large that it practically stretched her entire face.
Before she could move even a step, looking to say ‘goodbye’ to her mother next, Ashton had her gathered up in his arms and holding her to his chest. He was squeezing her while actually considering that if he used enough pressure she may stick and have to stay.
“I love you so much.” His words all together as if they were one, he mumbled right above her head, rubbing his nose and lips into it. To say, he was going to Miss Molly was an understatement. He let her go hesitantly, her shoulders shimming to escape his grasp. He would have held her there forever until it grew too dark to drive to Gold Coast, but she had more goodbyes to say.
“You okay, man?” Luke chuckled, but he reached over and squeezed Ashton’s shoulder for support. He had small children of his own back home and watching Ashton send his eldest off to college only made him nervous for what the future would bring to him.
“Yeah, it’s cool.” Swallowing around his desire to stop this whole thing from happening, Ashton nodded and slid his hands into his pockets. He remembered when the idea of becoming a father sent him into a tailspin. He had nearly walked the length of King St W in Toronto when his wife told him she was expecting and now, nineteen years later, he was absolutely crushed that Molly was all grown up and spreading her wings. “You know, I’m proud of her…” He shrugged and looked over at Luke, concentrating on his brother of a band mate as he was less likely to cry when thinking about Luke. Ashton tried to think of the positive side of this. Molly was going to University. She was going to get an education and follow her own path. She always had a sense of herself and Ashton was happy that she was forging ahead with her dreams. He wasn’t even nervous about things beyond his control happening. He believed so much in Molly as she was more intelligent and headstrong than he could have even imagined being at her age.
The sound of car keys pulled Ashton’s attention back to Molly as she drew closer and wrapped her coltish arms around her Uncle Luke’s neck, smiling thinly as she hugged him. He could remember carrying her around open stadiums when she was light as a feather, singing Good Golly Miss Molly at sound checks in order to make her dance like a tiny bobble head doll. Now, she was a grown up. All limbs and big ideas.
“Thanks for all your help today.” She sincerely said before pulling away from him, shifting her eyes to catch her father looking fondly over her. It made her nervous how his eyes made it plain that he was going to lose his self-control at any moment.
“No problem. Drive safe.” Luke advised, giving her a last nod before she started for her open truck, swinging her keys in a circle around her fourth finger.
Molly was singing goodbye as she climbed in behind the wheel of her truck, practically dancing as she put the keys in the ignition. Before she could close the door, her father appeared right beside her, holding the roof with both hands, his armpits exposed to her as well as his lifeless smile.
“You remember how to drive stick?” He had gone over it with her twice over the week, but the truck was new to her and all Ashton could do was worry.
“Dad, I’m ready.” She insisted, sounding slightly annoyed by his smothering love. Molly reached over and pat the gear beside her as if to prove her point.
“I put money in the glove box, if you need it.” She had told him that she was fine for gas money, but Ashton took it upon himself to make sure she had back off. She had never had to drive this long before. He didn’t trust that her friend she was picking up would be smart enough to plan ahead either. He shook his head as her jaw opened in order to tell him to take it back and she didn’t need it. “Just let me be a Dad, okay?” He rhetorically asked, so Molly closed her mouth in compliance. “You know you can come home at any time, right? Or you can call and we’re there, it’s just an hour flight.” He wished she was flying, but his wife was all about her having the experience of a road trip, of going to college with her friend and getting there. Apparently getting there was half of the fun, but Ashton wasn’t concerned about fun right now. His priority was her safety.
“I know, Dad.”
“Call me when you get there, okay?” He let go of the roof finally and rested his arms at his side, trying not to reach out and wrap her up in a hug again.
He exhaled loudly, the word ‘goodbye’ waiting to be said, ready at the back of his throat, but he shut his eyes and couldn’t manage to let the word out.
“I’m really proud of you, you know?” She was about to start school at Bond University, studying Biomedical Sciences with an interest in veterinary health. Molly had always loved animals and hated her brother’s allergies that kept them from getting another pet after their family dog passed away when she was six. She credited her Uncle Michael taking her to duck parks as a little girl to half of her intense passion for animals and providing for them. She had aspirations to tag elephants in Sri Lanka, save Whales in Hawaii, and study and protect pandas in China.
“Thanks, Dad.” Rubbing her lips together, she tried to capture the moment on the filmstrip in her mind. Ashton had always been an affectionate father, unafraid to tell Molly how he felt at any time, but she knew this was important and needed to be cherished. “I’ll call you all the time. I promise.” They had been close, closer than a lot of teenage daughters and their parents, even the ones who weren’t rock stars, so she knew this was difficult for him, but she had to go. She was more than ready and so excited to take on the world. “I love you.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek, sending his memory reeling to when she was just two and would jump into his hotel bed at the first spot of sunlight to wake him up with kisses and sweet ‘I love yous’. Ashton had never appreciated sunrise and mornings until having a daughter, waking up to her giggles and astonishment over every new day. Water was rushing to his eyes, so after running his hand through the tangles of her ponytail, he let go of Molly’s head and backed away, his hands heading into the pocket of his trousers.
“Drive safely. Use your signals!” He called while backing away, wiping his eyes somewhat discreetly on his t-shirt sleeves. Molly slammed the door and buckled herself up, starting to pull out with one hand on the wheel while she waved goodbye to her family with the other hand out the window. “Both hands! Put both hands on the wheel!” Ashton shouted, standing between Luke and his wife with his son right in front of him. Molly was perfect, but Ashton couldn’t deny that his daughter was one of the worst drivers in all of Sydney.
He chased his dreams. It might have all started in his bedroom with an acoustic guitar, but Luke made life explode. He was surrounded by four walls, but he played guitar until they all became doors. No one should have understood your need to explore like he did, but for some reason, he was having a really hard time watching you prepare for your own adventure. No one, not even Luke, could understand his hesitance to let you go. Due to his hectic touring schedule and working on their debut album, you two had hardly had any time to hang out, but he was home now and all he wanted was for things to stay the same. Wherever he went and no matter how long, he wanted his home to freeze and be just how he left it when he returned through the door, more luggage in hand than he originally left with.
“Mum said you need another suitcase.” Standing at the door, Luke mumbled, his recently emptied bag knocking against your bedroom wall.
Pushing your hair from your face, you looked over at your brother brightly, your eyes ready to become fireworks as you packed as much clothes as you could into one bag. You had gone on a major overhaul of a shopping trip with your mother just a few days ago, loading up on new clothes and black dress pants, but you managed to find sentimental t-shirts and ratty clothes in your drawers that you didn’t want to leave behind.
“Yeah, one just for shoes.” You joked and nodded your head back as a sign that he was invited to come into your room. When you hit puberty, years ago, you had been bombastic about your brothers not being allowed in or near any of your personal belongings, but it didn’t matter so much anymore now. You were far less easy to embarrass than you were years prior.
“How many shoes are you taking? You’re only going to be gone a year, right?” Scrunching his brows together into one fuzzy line, Luke asked. He lugged the suitcase over and placed it down right by your bare feet.
“I’m only taking like five, I was kidding.” Lightly, you laughed. “And I’m going to be gone as long as I need to be.” Sure, your course over in Paris was only a year, but you were hoping opportunities would arise as you were out there at one of the world’s most prestigious culinary school. If a window opened, you were prepared to jump out and free fall. If someone offered an open door, you would waltz right through with your bravest face on.
“Well, how long do you think you need?” Luke crossed his arms tightly, hugging himself out of a new desire for comfort, and sat at the edge of your bed right by the open bag. He was purposefully keeping his back to it in order to keep from seeing any of your unmentionables. You had ruined the idea of a woman in lingerie for him as the first time he ever saw the inside of a Victoria’s Secret shop was when he followed you into one.
“I don’t know!” You shook your face, eyes wide, into his and chuckled. “Why do you sound so upset about this?” Everyone else was excited for you. You finally felt like you had an idea of the direction you wanted to take your life. Most importantly, you seemed really happy.
“Because…” He grumbled and wrinkled up his forehead, looking down at his knees and then yours. “I just got home and now you’re going away. When are we ever going to see each other now?”
Luke’s life was unpredictable. He was waking up in Los Angeles and going to sleep in Milan. You were a rock. He could call on you whenever he needed to, you were constant and reliable and had been since you were both children rolling around and pretending to be farm animals in the backyard. He wanted you to reach all your goals as he had his, but he wasn’t ready for change. He loved coming home and seeing his family, you being a very huge part of that. Now, he would see you even less than before (or so he assumed).
“Luke, this isn’t new. I’ve been getting ready to go for months.” He had nearly broken out into a chair dance when you showed him your letter of acceptance over a video chat. Where was that proud brother now?
“Yeah, well…we’re touring Australia finally and I thought you’d be coming around with us.” He was too bummed out to pick up on how selfish he sounded. “Who’s going to be our cheeky merch girl now?” Completely serious, he asked you, blue eyes shooting at you like the sharp ends of bar darts.
“Oh, you’re right. I should really hold off on culinary school to pursue the avenue of a merchandise girl for my brother’s band.” Sighing, you pushed away your bag as if you were stopping packing all together and sat down beside him, hands between your bare knees as your denim shorts rode up. “You know you can still call me whenever you want. Paris is closer to London, so we can see each other when you have time off or I have a weekend…” It was easy to say at the moment since you hadn’t any insight to how busy your own schedule was about to be, but no school or career would ever become more important than your relationship with family. Luke had spent months in Los Angeles and you made time to come down and visit him multiple times despite working part-time in a food truck and having finalized a lot of summer plans before he went to America. He would always be a priority. “Stop pouting.” Hard, you poked your elbow into his side causing him to wince and massage at it. “I didn’t do this to you at the airport the first time you left. Be happy for me.” You urged him, but his face hardly lit up. He still looked like a puppy wandering the roads without a place to call home.
“I am happy for you.” He really was. “It just sucks for me.”
It hit Luke as he watched the excitement leave your face the more he spoke that he shouldn’t have been being so honest. This was your life and he wasn’t given the right to tell you how to go about living it especially when you hadn’t even warned him about internet creeps when he began posting his acoustic covers online. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut, but he had never had to hide or be shy around his sister. You had always taken him exactly as he was.
“You know what, I said the same thing to Mom when you left.” You patted his knee with one hand, just a squeeze, and then laid your head down on his shoulder. “But I survived and you are, too. There’s room for two superstars in this family, you know?” You gave him your million dollar smile, the one he knew was your best only because the guys always talked about how you had the prettiest grin and it drove him nuts.
“So, you’re not going be too busy for four am phone calls?” Luke checked with the first glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“I won’t.” Lifting up your head, you jumped up and started to get back to folding clothes. “But they’ll be still annoying.” Partially kidding, you reached over and messed with his hair, his hands instantly reaching up to fix it.
“I hate when you do that.” Right back into his normal brother mode, he whined and reached over to give your nearest elbow a flick. “I take it all back. I want you to go.” He sat up, laughing. You both knew what he was really saying was ‘please, don’t.’
Some thoughts about Molly Carpenter and her future
Molly has always been my least favourite of the main characters in the Dresden Files. I don’t think she’s a bad character - when we first saw her in Death Masks, I really liked her - but as the series progresses I’ve begun to realize that unlike every other person in the series, Molly doesn’t seem to be in control of her own life at all. Almost everything that happens to her happens because other people directly or indirectly influence her in some way, forcing her to make choices she isn’t prepared to make, and as we all know in The Dresden Files and Harry Potter both, it is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities (especially if those choices are a result of being influenced by older guys).
When she’s younger, Molly tries to “be herself” and get out from under the thumb of her mother. She rebels in almost every way she knows how - nipple piercings, tattoos, skimpy clothes, marijuana, and of course black magic - but as messed up and deliberate as her choices are, IMO this is the only time we ever see Molly acting out, the only time she decides “You know what? Fuck what [insert authority figure here] thinks.” As Molly grows up she loses the bright hair and the make-up and the Gothy McGoth outfit (things that are very much tied in with the expression of her own identity, as silly as they appear to Dresden), and somehow she becomes even less in control of her life. As much as Harry tries to empower her, she puts a hell of a lot of faith in him, and her crush on him only makes her more inclined to look out for him, rather than the other way around. She doesn’t question his opinions, she doesn’t argue. She simply does what she’s told, her own psychological welfare be damned. She doesn’t learn to make decisions by thinking “what should I do”, partly because she believes she’s not good enough to make those decisions. So instead, she learns to think about what other people would do and decides her actions on that basis. In Bombshells (the short story told from Molly’s perspective post-Ghost Story), she asks herself: “What would Harry do?” and she contemplates what “Auntie Lea” might say. Molly is powerful and competent, there’s no question about it, but there is always someone guiding her hand and influencing her choices, whether she knows it or not.
And her personality seems inconsistent, too. IMO Molly is at her best when she’s having fun and being kindhearted, when she’s learning at her own pace rather than being pushed to act. But compare Molly in Turn Coat to how she is in Changes, and then again in Ghost Story, and you get wildly different versions of the same character. Let’s just say I don’t think her psychic defenses has a Star Trek theme just for the lulz. There’s this idea of distinctly different “versions” of Molly within herself, the same way there was in the soulgaze, and I really don’t think it’s a coincidence. Even that far through the series, Molly’s entire personality is undefined, her path unclear.
And now she’s the Winter Lady. She’s been instantly handed a name, identity and purpose in life, and she’s now on her way to becoming Maeve, who also struggled with identity, who also felt betrayed by her mother, who also made sexual advances on Harry that weren’t entirely unsuccessful.
Based on the bad decisions she’s made in the past, the way Molly expresses her feelings for Harry and her lack of belief in herself, I personally don’t think that Molly will escape the mantle’s influence. The effect won’t be immediate, but I think she’s just come too far down the rabbit hole, she’s dealing with people who are masters of manipulation, with a power that enhances her base instincts… She’s one hell of a powerful lady, and she knows it. But she doesn’t get it.
The problem Mab has with Harry is that he’s so hellishly powerful and strong-willed, that nothing - no Denarian, no Mantle, no prisoner on Demonreach, literally nothing - can influence him enough to change who he is. Not with power, money, sex or immortality. Harry’s lived his entire life alone, he experienced physical and emotional abuse as a child, he had to grow up fast and he’s constantly, constantly aware that people might be trying to take advantage of him - especially the Sidhe. More importantly, he knows the value of free will and choice, and won’t give that up. Not for anything.
Molly didn’t learn any of that. Her parents loved her so much that she wanted to escape it. She relies on the opinions of people she admires for strength and assurance, rather than making up her own mind. The moment Harry died Lea swept in to become her mentor, and by the looks of it Molly genuinely believes that Lea has her best interests at heart…
I just don’t think things are going to work out well for Molly in the coming books. I think Michael could probably help her, if she ever decides to tell him about it, and Harry could help potentially (although *yawn*), but Charity will actually kill Harry if she finds out about the Winter Lady thing. Like, I’m betting 90% of the violence that’s supposed to happen Peace Talks will be just Charity on the war path once she’s discovered Molly somehow got “adopted” by Mab whilst she was with Harry, who just happens to be the Winter Knight. Mostly, I’d like it if Molly saves herself, drops her crush on Harry and lives her own life, but IDK. As always, IDK.