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Messages - Billie Monday

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Archived Applications / Re: Billie Monday
« on: 07/04/2020 at 20:14 »

Sorry, I forgot to specify I would not be playing Solange Santoro at castle next term. I've decided to bring Billie to the castle.

Thank you!

Archived Applications / Billie Monday
« on: 06/04/2020 at 07:08 »

Application for Hogwarts School


Name: Billie Valentin Monday

Birthday: September 1, 1948

Hometown: York, England

Bloodline: Muggleborn

Magical Strength (pick one): Charms

Magical Weakness (pick one): Divination

Year (pick two): FIRSTIE!, second year


(but the early worm gets eaten, and the second mouse gets the cheese.)

He couldn’t breathe.

Cotton sheets clung to his every move, heat radiating off his self-made tent with an intensity that was both suffocating and irritating. His arm hurt from holding the flashlight, and for all his effort he was the most uncomfortable he’d ever been.

This would not do.

As quiet as he could be, for Juno was sleeping in the bed across him (though really, with his thundering snores there was no real worry of waking his brother up), Billie tiptoed to the bedroom door, bundled blanket and pillow in hand, and the book tucked under the nook of his arm.

Outside, the moon shone quite brightly, and if he propped the flashlight just so, Peter Pan’s adventures in Neverland opened up to him welcomingly. Though it was a bit nippier than expected, Billie promised himself he’d only be out here for a little- he’d head on right inside after Chapter One. Anyways, he had his jacket, a handful of his sister Willow’s chocolate chip cookies (stolen from the kitchen on the way out), and to be honest, with the blanket draped over a low branch and spread out underneath, he was feeling quite snug in his makeshift fort. A bit of ingenuity, if he thought so himself.

Chapter Two breezed by with a whisper, and he assured himself it didn’t make sense to stop halfway through Chapter Three. The moon watched knowingly, nestled amongst twinkling stars. 

At Chapter Four, his eyelids began to feel heavy as he followed Peter and Michael and John and Wendy into the night sky, and as the words blurred and his head drooped occasionally (at which he would suddenly jolt, heart racing a mile a minute) he almost felt like he was flying too.

He entered Chapter Five with a great big yawn, sinking lower and lower onto his pillow, face practically pressed against the pages of the book.

It was quite late when Tootles exclaimed “Out of the way, Tink!” and “Wendy fluttered to the ground with an arrow in her breast-” for at the same time, Billie’s eyes fell shut, his arms and legs sprawled out on the thin sheet, and he himself fell into dreams of mermaids and pirates and fairies and flying, flying- higher and higher and higher.

Morning came in golden warmth and chirping birds, shuffling footsteps in dew-dropped grass and a quiet creaking of the door announcing his late, or rather, early arrival. The house was surprisingly quiet- something very unusual when one had eight other siblings. Bleary-eyed and sleep-sluggish, Billie took no note, nor did he care very much. It wasn’t often there was peace and quiet in the Monday household, and perhaps, just this once, they had all mercifully decided to sleep in.

It wasn’t until half past noon that he awoke once again, and subsequently realized it was Monday, that his parents were off at work, and that his siblings had already been at school for a couple of hours by now, exactly where they were supposed to be, and exactly where he was not. (He supposed they’d forgotten all about him. Not in any intentional way, of course, but they’d forgotten him, all the same. Simply forgotten him. The nerve!)

Ever the dutiful student, Billie slumped back under his covers.

(where the seekers are aplenty, and the hider does not want to be found.)

Billie could hear them quite clearly. He could hear the crunching of their shoes on scattered twigs, the giggles and whispers of his younger siblings. He could hear Joshua and Ivy laughing, drifting in from further behind the rowdy gaggle of kids, appointed babysitters by age.


He waited until their voices faded, until it was quiet again, but the kind of quiet that promised a solitude like a breath of fresh air, the kind of silence where he was alone and the flurry of thoughts settled like dust.

You see, Billie had a secret.

Just an hour ago, the lot of them had been gallivanting about the river bank, dipping their toes occasionally, sunbathing in the summer sun. Billie was more occupied with the rocks gathered at the edges of the water, sparkling and gleaming like treasure. So occupied, that by the time he’d turned around, the rest of them were skipping away to begin a game of hide-and-seek. Pressed for time, and not quite bothered enough to be roped into the role of seeker, he scrambled quickly up the trunk of an overhanging tree. And there he sat. And sat. And sat, until finally, after shifting his weight, something caught his attention.

A bird’s nest. Five speckled eggs rested innocently in a nest of twigs and moss, and Billie was enraptured at his little discovery.

After he was sure his siblings were nowhere near the tree, and him, and the little bird’s nest, he climbed down and landed upon the soil, with one last look at the secret up above. He’d left a feather that he’d found by the bank in the nest, and with that, a promise to come back again.

And for some reason, tempting as it was to share such an exciting find with his brothers and sisters, Billie wanted this one for himself. His treasure, his own “x marks the spot.”

His, and his alone.

(where he gets all the glory, just this once)

There couldn’t have been more perfect timing. It was two weeks and a little-bit-more later that he’d returned to the tree, and he was expecting an empty nest and maybe a few eggshells to keep as a memento.

To his surprise, at the foot of the tree was a baby bird, chirping erratically with part of an eggshell still plopped on its head, and stumbling about in a very endearing sort of way. At second glance, however, it was clear the creature had a broken wing or something of that sort. Checking the nest revealed empty shells, and no mum or pop in sight.

There was really only one option.

And so, tucking the small thing into the makeshift sling he’d fashioned out of his jacket, and then slung about a branch (he’d read books on this sort of thing), he left with another promise that’d he come back. This time, with impassioned obligation. Never had he ever had so much responsibility upon his shoulders. Never had he felt so important.

Billie decided he’d call the little thing Pan. A lost boy.

The forgotten one.

(and, ironically, is the least concerned of all)

Pan was growing with each day. He’d turned out to be a handsome crow, and a mighty fine one at that. Billie was quite proud of himself. The bird was rather clever, and after a few weeks it seemed as if Pan would respond to a few commands as well, though it was more often than not at the bird’s will and usually more successful of a feat if incentivized by treats.

Nonetheless, today was the day Billie had planned to show off Pan to his siblings. It was nearly the last week of summer, too. A final culmination of all his efforts. Look at what Billie did! Saved a bird! Taught it tricks! Quite an accomplishment indeed.

“Whatcha got there?”
“Hurry up then, Billie.”
“Can it talk?”
“What if it bites?”
“Alright, let’s see it.”

A few minutes in and it was clear Pan would not be playing along anytime soon. “He...he’s just shy today, really. Maybe give him a few minutes and then I’ll sh-”

“Lunch is ready, you rascals. Billie, mum says there’s a letter for you. Got a girlfriend or something, eh?” A couple snorts of laughter at Joshua’s joke. It was not the greatest feeling. Or a good feeling at all. Especially after the day’s failure. “I’ll catch up inna bit.”

“You sure? Best hurry, or one o’ these brats might open your letter. Or worse yet, eat yur food.”

“I dun’ care.”

Billie didn’t feel much like eating, anyways. They were gone in a few minutes, and he fell sprawled onto the bank, letting out a woosh of frustrated air.

So much for the day’s greatest triumph.

He didn’t make his way back until much later, when the sun had set long ago, and the skies were painted in deep purple and blues, and late enough that he’d expected cold pot pie awaiting him at an empty table, siblings and parents tucked away in their rooms.

It came as a surprise when his mother and father were sat solemnly at the table, still awake, and a letter placed innocently in front of them.

And so they talked, and talked, and talked, until the idea of a place like Hogwarts became less absurd, and more a possibility. His mum talked of the strange person that came to visit, accompanying the letter, and all the equally, if not more strange things elaborated upon. His father spoke of a quality education, one different from all the schools Billie’s older siblings had attended, and he spoke of opportunities. Opportunities had never been a big deal for Billie. That was more directed towards the likes of Joshua, and Ivy! They were the ones. Where words like potential and leader were thrown about.

They talked, and talked, and talked, and in all honesty, it was a bit overwhelming, but it didn’t matter then, because the faintest flicker of interest had been set off somewhere within him, and for once, for once, Billie really, really wanted for all this talk to be true. To be real. To be happening, because just this once, Billie wanted something, and he wanted it dearly, and he wanted to feel as if he was something truly incredible, or that he could be someone quite wonderful. Something and someone to be proud of.

Perhaps, for once, he wouldn’t (he couldn’t) be forgotten.

Note: This section is optional, and is up to you to complete.

House Request: Whatever the Hat decides!

Personality: Billie Monday is a daydreamer. His head is full of ideas, and plans, and adventures- though none of them ever really get put into action, and he’s much too lazy to do anything about it. Dreams are dreams and nothing more, and Billie thinks that anyone that puts too much thought into it ought to focus on their priorities. His priority is the Now. Because Billie, well, he prefers to enjoy, than to waste time dwelling on the could bes, and would bes, and will bes. Consequences are for the future, and if he ain’t thinkin’ about the future, what problem really is there? If you expect nothing, then you simply can’t be disappointed. Trust him, he’s read books on this sort of thing.

Something else you should know about Billie Monday, is that he doesn’t make promises, and you really shouldn’t either. Promises can be broken, or forgotten, or lied about, and they’re much more trouble than they’re worth. Billie doesn’t want to be more trouble than he’s worth.

So don’t go expecting something out of him when he ain’t promised you nothing. Billie’s just a boy. Nothing special. And he ain’t trying to be either. He doesn’t need to read a book to tell you that.

Appearance: With legs like a grasshopper’s, long and pushing lanky, you’d think Billie would easily stand out from a crowd. His hair is forever ruffled, mussed up by wind, and climbing trees, and whatnot. Knees probably bruised up and scuffed, bandaged from exploring corners and high places and anywhere that offers an occasional peace and quiet. You can expect his green eyes to be observing silently, probably judging just a bit, before moving onto the next thing that catches his interest. But all in all, he’s really just a boy. What more could you ask of him?


Option I:

The dungeons. A place eleven-year-old Evangeline had not yet travelled since her arrival at Hogwarts.

A place she really was just fine with not knowing; but it was too late. The dare had been accepted, even if it had been done in fear of being kicked out of Gryffindor, like the older girls had said she would because Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.

The air changed instantly when she hit the main corridor of the dungeons. The dampness was almost too much for her and she instinctively took a deep breath to avoid the sensation of being suffocated. There was also a sour burning smell which Evangeline assumed was from many, many Potions lessons.

Further and further she walked, her steps so slow and gentle they made no noise against the stone walls and floor. The feeling that she wasn't alone crept up her spine and raised the tiny hair on the back of her neck. Shivering, Evangeline wrapped her arms around herself. Suddenly, she missed the warmth and comfort of the Gryffindor common room. The fire was always going and it made her feel at ease.

Why had she let those girls talk her into this? She was only eleven, she didn't have to be brave. Surely the Headmistress would not kick her out of Hogwarts for not being brave.

If only she had these thoughts while being dared to search for the ghost of one Emma Birch, whom supposedly haunted the dungeons. It was not, Evangeline had learned, the place where the sixteen-year-old girl's life had ended but as she had been from the house with a snake as its mascot, it was the place her spirit had returned to. That common room was down here somewhere, she'd been told.

Something - the small blonde girl wasn't quite sure what - but something made her stop in her tracks suddenly. There was a low, dull thumping noise. Or maybe that was her heart beating so loudly she thought it was coming from outside her body.

"H-h-hello?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Remembering that she was supposed to be brave, Evangeline tried again.

"Hello! Is Emma Birch here?"

The sound of her own words bouncing back at her off the walls made her jump.

Billie had thought, of all places, that a damp, leaky, probably moldy and most definitely dusty dungeon would be the last place he’d encounter any other being. Well, besides the rats. (He hadn’t run into any one of those yet, but there was always a possibility.)

He was, of course, proven wrong, when a trembling voice reached out to him. Hogwarts was most definitely full of surprises. And that wasn’t even quite counting the magical things it contained.

“Um. I’m...not Emma Birch. Obviously.”

The voice belonged to a girl that looked to be his age, unfamiliar, albeit that wasn’t very surprising as he really didn’t know many faces at the school yet. Billie paused for a minute, “Is she a friend of yours?” sitting on the tip of his tongue for just a moment before he decided he wasn’t all too invested in that whole investigation, should it turn out the girl was indeed searching for a friend, and in that scenario, required a helping hand; and you know what, he was very much so done exploring the dungeons for the day. So he turned around swiftly with a polite smile, taking a few steps back to further enforce the message that he was a busy man, with places to be and people to see.

“I’ve got. Uh. Someplace to be. Someplace important. Good luck finding your friend.”

Billie had much better things to do.


Please list any characters you have on the site (current and previous): Vanessa Naoi, Solange Santoro, Elliot Blue Sinclair

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