I gave up on homework to do fic things. I also obviously don’t need sleep.
nai she didn’t day 1
word count: 2 264
When he was a year old James Potter got his first broom for Christmas. It was a small training broom, hovering two feet off the floor and moved at a snail’s pace but young James cherished it like no other. Every day he would insist on riding it for hours at a time and never went to sleep unless it was lying beside him in his cot. He named it ‘Ba,’ and clutched it tightly in his chubby fists whilst slobbering all over it, carrying it wherever he went.
When he was four years old, his mum and dad brought him a new toy broomstick as the old one was losing twigs and now only managed to roll over feebly before hovering an inch or so before dropping down again, much less able to fly. The evening he got it, he immediately sped out into the orchard and kicked off, this time hovering at a maximum of ten feet and moving at a sloth’s pace instead. He rode it for the entire evening and when night fell, his mum found him curled up with it under the apple tree, deep asleep. This one did not have a name but it did become an almost extension of his already long and scrawny arms. Wherever James was, you can be sure that the broomstick was almost always there too. Unless it was in the bath. His mum drew the line after she found him in the tub, surrounded by bubbles and hovering on the broomstick.
When he was nine, he received his first real racing broom. A Comet 360, one of the best back then, having only just beaten out the Nimbus 500 by a slight margin. According to his quidditch magazines (which he was of course reading religiously by that time), the Comet 360 was only available for quidditch teams across the country and not yet ready for mass production, so when he ripped over the wrapping that morning (on his birthday no less) he more or less flung himself at his parents, giving them each a quick hug and peck on the cheek before tripping over his own feet in his haste to get outside. He spent the entire day flying and then spent the entire night moaning in pain as he managed to slip off during one of his dives and break his hand.
When he was ten and finally perfected the sloth grip for the first time after seeing it in a quidditch match, James decided that he wanted to try this quidditch thing for real, and not the mock games that his dad refereed between him and House Elves.
I get personally offended when someone shitty listens to my favourite band
For example, you can:
- be in a shampoo commercial
- start a boy band:
- spot some choice booty:
- break into song:
- see some people in frankly offensive outfits:
- attend a metal show:
- listen to some sick jams:
- discover zombieism:
- sample some tasty snacks:
- watch someone get burned bad:
- find something you really like:
- find something you really, really like:
- find something you REALLY REALLY LIKE:
- and wonder if you left the stove on: