#i drew this character now twice and each time i drew him with golden tears

[thesaart]

Reality in dream

#honkai star rail #hsr fanart #hsr sunday #honkai star rail sunday #robin hsr #hsr robin #hsr penacony #penacony #i drew this character now twice and each time i drew him with golden tears #he just feels like a character who would have some devine type tears

[distant-velleity]

"My Answer Is..."

Summary: Love and fear are deeply intertwined, aren't they? (Basically, FloYu angst.) Word count: 600+ A/N: So @nahelenia and I are driving each other insane, Shakespeare is driving us insane, and thus this was partly written both out of spite and as a request. I desperately need to go to sleep because I have a test tomorrow. Enjoy <333

-

Floyd arrives too late.

The grass beneath his feet is all black and withered, like seaweed washed up on the beach and left only as a nuisance to others. Akin to blood in the water, a strong stench and a darkly visible presence, blot collects on the ground and in the air in a smog-like form. It’s nothing like the sweet crimson that the injured leave behind for predators to give chase, though; instead, Floyd feels suffocated, as if he was the predator duped by what seemed to be prey. 

Prey?

Maybe, just maybe, you could view the inky Phantom—all gossamer fins spun in midnight black and golden scales glowing with the cruelty of sunlight—as that; dancing in the air around its host as it does, it looks delicate. It’s an ornamental fish, after all.

Pretty, like the sparkle of jewelry within a shipwreck. Fragile, like reefs adored by royalty. Flighty, like a school of fish darting about. And yet guarded, like an oyster protecting its singular pearl.

Pure, with the promise of more beneath the surface.

Something to chase. Something to be adored. 

By all means, something like that should be prey.

But—

“Just as I've interfered with everything before, why don't I undo my mistakes starting from the very first?”

—everything has changed. It’s finally decided to show its true colors.

Illuminated by the glow of frantic magic spells, Yu is—like always—at the heart of it all. Although blot drips like tears down his face, ashen and deathly pale unlike its usual flushed liveliness, he smiles. Freed by anguish, saved by pain. Serene in the midst of his other Phantoms confronting their former hosts.

He looks happy in a way that Floyd has never seen before, stepping on a fallen Phantom’s melting corpse without care as he walks forward. His steps are delicate, held in the air as if he’s levitating on clouds, and yet they hold the weight of the world in their importance.

“You’re just on time,” says Yu, voice overlayed with what feels like audible darkness. And yet, it’s bursting with hollow, meaningless joy. “So? Shall I fix you a ‘happy ending’ without me in it, too?”

“Koi-chan…”

Floyd doesn’t normally feel scared. He can count the number of times he’s experienced fear on one hand: once, for when he had just emerged into the world and none of his senses had solidified. Twice, for when his father first taught him what squeezing felt like. Thrice, for when Azul succumbed to an Overblot as nightmarish as this one.

And this fourth time…

(“Did you know,” Yu said idly, tapping an unfamiliar rhythm on Floyd’s closed textbook, “that the number four represents ‘death’ in my parents’ culture?”

Floyd looked at him, lifting his chin from where he’d been about to go to sleep on his crossed arms—interest piqued. “Why?”

“‘Cause in their first language, the characters are read the same way with the barest of differences.” Using his finger, the TA drew foreign but interesting characters on the hardcover. “‘Si,’ with the fourth tone, meaning ‘four.’ And ‘si,’ with the third tone. If you hear them, well… they’re almost the same, aren’t they?”)

Everything is wrong. So, so, so wrong.

Yu, anxious and walled yet vulnerable and sweet, once his ‘prey’ from another world—as it turns out, has always been the one in control. Ornamental koi may be, free for the killing in their open-air enclosures, but beautiful things have the strongest sway over the heart.

It just took Floyd too long to realize that he’d become prey to ‘this feeling.’

And now, if he doesn’t act, ‘these feelings,’ along with him—will be lost before they can even blossom.

“I’m waiting for your response, Floyd.”

“Some happy ending that is. I don’t need it.” It wouldn’t be happy without you in my life.

Something snaps. The smog thickens, impossible to breathe in. 

Floyd gasps for air, seeing only the chilling glow of Yu’s eyes ahead of him.

“Wrong answer.”

#kai's writing #twisted wonderland #twst #floyd leech #twst oc #yuusona #kai self ships #floyu <3 #im insane. i think #what is more horrifying than the feeling of realizing you like someone #right as they overblot due to loathing themselves so much #and if youre someone who feels feelings so intensely that you dont know how to grapple with it ... #isnt it scary to be 'prey' to love? #dies. i think im delusional

[dangermousie]

Mousie’s absolutely subjective, very biased Top 10 web novels list

Please note that this is hardly aiming to be objective, if one can even be properly objective about a work of fiction. It is 110% based on my preferences, which means this list is heavy on the angst and has nothing set in the modern day. It is also heavily danmei-centric, even though I read way more het romance than danmei, because for whatever reason, most of the danmei I’ve read has been insanely good.

10. Return of the Swallow - one of the two non-danmeis on this list. Smart and nuanced and with a large cast of characters. Our heroine is a long-lost daughter of the family that is brought back in and has to cope with familial struggles, crazy royals, court intrigue, invasion et al. It’s SO GOOD! There is romance with the sexy smart enemy general but honestly, it’s the heroine that is the main selling point for me.

9. Transmigrator Meets Reincarnator - the only other non-danmei novel on this list, this was my very first web novel and what drew me into this insanity. This is just a ton of fun, probably the lightest novel on this list, not an ounce of angst to be found. But it’s hilarious and features competent heroine and tsundere hero and I will always love it for opening a new world to me. Anyway, our heroine transmigrates into the novel as the female lead. Unlike the original lead though she doesn’t want to seek adventures and angst - she just wants to comfortably live with the wealthy, nice husband heroine has. Alas, said husband is no longer nice since he has previously lived this story where he was betrayed by FL and then transmigrated/reincarnated into the past. Oh well, the heroine opens up businesses and makes friends. And eventually, her husband realizes his wife is way different this time around. This actually doesn’t have much romance, not until close to the end, but this is so fun I don’t care.

8. Lord Seventh - I am only partway through this so far, but it’s already on the list because it’s smart and somehow intense AND laid-back (not sure how this works, but it does) and is honestly just a really really solid and smart period novel, with the OTP a cherry on top of a narrative sundae. Plus, I love the concept of MC deciding he is not going for his supposedly fated love - he’s tried for six lifetimes, always with disaster, and he’s just plain done and tired. When he opens his life in his seventh reincarnation and sees the person he would have given up the world for, he genuinely feels nothing at all. (Spoiler - his OTP is actually a barbarian shaman this time around, thank you Lord!)

7. Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (MDZS) - oh come on, how are you even on this tumblr if you don’t know MDZS/The Untamed? This was my very first danmei and it’s so much fun! I love everything about it - the unreliable narrator, the looping structure, the main OTP, Wei Wuxian’s laidback, traumatized insouciance, everything. Anyway, the plot in the event you somehow transported here from 2005 is that the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Wei Wuxian, was defeated by the righteous sects over a decade ago and fell of a cliff to his death. Only now that same Wei Wuxian opens his eyes in another body and everything that was supposed to stay in the past starts again.

6. Heaven Official’s Blessing (TGCF) - people either love its meandering narrative, picaresque structure and cast of thousands, or find it a detriment compared to much more compact MDZS. I love it even more than MDZS for those very qualities. It does have a rock-solid, darling OTP, but what really elevates it to me are the MXTX trademark combo of snarky/light tone hiding a ton of trauma underneath, the insanely intricate world-building, and what it has to say about the nature of grace and goodness. Xie Lian is one of my top 5 web novel characters and probably in top 10 from anywhere. Oh, and while MXTX’s stuff is not as angsty for me as Meatbun’s or even Priest’s, there are always exceptions, and there is one chapter in this novel that pretty much broke me and sometimes I still flashback to it and feel unwell.

Anyway, what is it about? There is a commotion in the heavenly realm - Xie Lian, the Crown Prince of a long-destroyed kingdom, has ascended to Godhood. That in itself is not so exciting. However for Xie Lian this is the third time (!!!!) as he’s ascended and lost his godhood twice prior. And now, the biggest joke of the divine realm is back, throwing the heavenly realm into chaos. And elsewhere, Hua Cheng, one of the four most powerful demons of that Universe, sits up and takes notice.

5. Golden Stage - my perfect comfort novel. Probably the least angsty of any danmei novel on this list (which still means plenty angsty :P) It also has a dedicated, smart OTP that is an OTP for the bulk of the book - I think you will notice that in most of the novels in this list, I go for “OTP against the world” trope - I can’t stand love triangles and the same. Anyway, Fu Shen, is a famous general whose fame is making the emperor antsy. When he gets injured and can’t walk any more, the emperor gladly recalls him and marries him off to his most faithful court lackey, the head of sort of secret police, Yan Xiaohan. The emperor intends it both as a check on the general and a general spite move since the two men always clash in court whenever they meet. But not all is at is seems. They used to be friends a long time ago, had a falling out, and one of the loveliest parts of the novel is them finding their way to each other, but there is also finding the middle path between their two very different philosophies and ways of being, not to mention solving a conspiracy or dozen, and putting a new dynasty on the throne, among other things. It always makes me think, a little, of “if Mei Changsu x Jingyan were canon.”

4. Sha Po Lang - if you like a lot of fantasy politics and world-building and steampunk with your novels, this one is for you. This one is VERY plot-heavy with smart, dedicated characters and a deconstruction of many traditional virtues - our protagonist Chang Geng, a long-lost son of the Emperor, is someone who wants to modernize the country but also take down the current emperor his brother for progress’ sake and the person he’s in love with is the general who saved him when he was a kid who is nominally his foster father. Anyway, the romance is mainly a garnish in this one, not even a big side dish, but the relationship between two smart, dedicated, deadly individuals with very different concepts of duty is fascinating long before it turns romantic. And if you like angst, while overall it’s not as angsty as e.g., Meatbun stuff, Chang Geng’s childhood is the stuff of nightmares and probably freaks me out more than anything else in any novel on this list, 2ha included.

3. To Rule In a Turbulent World (LSWW) - gay Minglan. No seriously. This is how I think of it. it’s a slice of life period novel with fascinating characters and setting that happens to have a gay OTP, not a romance in a period setting per se and I always prefer stories where the romance is not the only thing that is going on. It’s meticulously written and smart and deals with character development and somehow makes daily minutia fascinating. Our protagonist, You Miao, is the son of a fabulously wealthy merchant, sent to the capital to make connections and study. As the story starts, he sees his friend’s servants beating someone to death, feels bad, and buys him because, as we discover gradually and organically, You Miao may be wealthy and occasionally immature but he is a genuinely good person. The person he buys is a barbarian from beyond the wall, named Li Zhifeng. It’s touch and go if the man will survive but eventually he does and You Miao, who by then has to return home, gives him his papers and lets him go. However, LZF decides to stick with You Miao instead, both out of sense of debt for YM saving his life and because he genuinely likes him (and yet, there is no instalove on either of their parts, their bodies have fun a lot quicker than their souls.) Anyway, the two take up farming, get involved in the imperial exams and it’s the life of prosperity and peace, until an invasion happens and things go rapidly to hell. This is so nuanced, so smart (smart people in this actually ARE!) and has secondary characters who are just as complex as the mains (for example, I ended up adoring YM’s friend, the one who starts the plot by almost beating LZF to death for no reason) because the novel never forgets that few people are all villain. There is a lovely character arc or two - watching YM grow up and LZF thaw - there is the fact that You Miao is a unicorn in web novels being laid back and calm. This whole thing is a masterpiece.

2. Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - want the emotional hit of 2ha but want to read something half its length? Well, the author of 2ha is here to eviscerate you in a shorter amount of time. This has the beautiful world-building, plot twists that all make sense and, at the center of it all, an intense and all-consuming and gloriously painful relationship between two generals - one aristocratic loner Mo Xi, and the other gregarious former slave general Gu Mang. Once they were best friends and lovers, but when the novel starts, Gu Mang has long turned traitor and went to serve the enemy kingdom and has now been returned and Mo Xi, who now commands the remnants of his slave army, has to cope with the fact that he has never been able to get over the man who stabbed him through the heart. Literally. This novel has a gorgeously looping structure, with flashbacks interwoven into present storyline. There is so much love and longing and sacrifice in this that I am tearing up a bit just thinking of it. If you don’t love Mo Xi and Gu Mang, separately and together, by the end of it, you have no soul.

1. The Dumb Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha/erha) - if you’ve been following my tumblr for more than a hot second, you know my obsession with this novel. Honestly, even if I were to make a list of my top 10 novels of any kind, not just webnovels, this would be on the list. It has everything I want - a complicated, intricate plot with an insane amount of plot twists, all of which are both unexpected and make total sense, a rich and large cast of characters, a truly epic OTP that makes me bawl, emotional intensity that sometimes maxes even me out and so much character nuance and growth. Also, Moran is my favorite web novel character ever, hands down.

Anyway, the plot (or at least the way it first appears) is that the evil emperor of the cultivation world, Taxian Jun, kills himself at 32 and wakes up in the body of his 16 year old self, birth name Moran. Excited to get a redo, Moran wants to save his supposed true love Shimei, whose death the last go-around pushed him towards evil. He also wants to avoid entanglement with Chu Wanning, his shizun and sworn enemy in past life. And that’s all you are best off knowing, trust me. The only hint I am going to give is oooh boy the mother of all unreliable narrators has arrived!

The novel starts light and funny on boil the frog principle - if someone told me I would be full bawling multiple times with this novel, I’d have thought they were insane, but i swear my eyes hurt by the end of it. I started out being amused and/or disliking the mains and by the end I would die for either of them.

#cnovel #2ha #yuwu #to rule in a turbulent world #lsww #sha po lang #golden stage #return of the swallow #transmigrator meets reincarnator #lord seventh #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #heaven official's blessing #the dumb husky and his white cat shizun

[nikosheba]

The Mystery of the Vanishing Elf

First of all, this is not my meta; I’m posting this on behalf of Azh, who wrote it and wanted it on tumblr. (They did say I could take credit for bothering them to write it, and for helping kick around ideas, so I will :D)

Link to the meta on AO3

[all page numbers from the 2007 HarperCollins edition of The Children of Húrin, ISBN 978 0 00 724622 9]

Thanks to starlightwalking for beta-ing!

So I just finished reading the Children of Húrin—which, let’s be honest, I was mostly reading to get the expanded version of the Túrin and Beleg content.  So at first when I started reading the second half — after Beleg’s death — I figured the reason I was less drawn to the text was because, well, Beleg was dead and therefore was less present in the narrative.  After I’d finished the book and put it down, though, I realized it was a little more than that.  Beleg wasn’t just less present. He was completely absent. This is no exaggeration: between the last mention of Beleg’s name in Chapter IX (“The Death of Beleg”) and Túrin’s death, when Gurthang asks to forget the “blood of Beleg my master” there is a single mention of his name, and it’s only a passing description of Gurthang itself as “the Black Sword of Beleg” (pg. 237).

Túrin never says his name again.

What’s going on here?  This is, quite frankly, bizarre. The entire first half of the narrative pivots around the relationship between Túrin and Beleg.  Beleg is the one who finds Túrin when he’s just a child his mother is sending to Thingol in Doriath. Beleg is his friend when’s growing up on Doriath — one of two really mentioned, the other being Nellas — and when Túrin is grown and goes off to be with the marchwardens, “Beleg and Túrin were companions in every peril” (pg 86).  When Thingol and Mablung and everyone else are ready to assume the worst of Túrin, it’s Beleg who shows up with Nellas to tell them what really happened, and it’s notable that this means Beleg didn’t see what happened; he just implicitly trusted Túrin and was the only one to do so.  They care about each other a lot. There is a brief portion of time while Túrin is with the outlaws that they aren’t together (that’s a whole nother post in itself) but Beleg returns to Túrin on Amon Rudh, “in this way, Beleg came back to Túrin, yielding to his love against his wisdom.  Túrin was glad indeed, for he had often regretted his stubbornness; and now the desire of his heart was granted…it seemed to [the outlaws] there had been a tryst between Beleg and their caption.” (pg 139).  These boys are in love. It’s textual.  There’s only one other character Túrin is described as loving in a similar way, and it’s Níniel (Niënor), whom he marries.

In fact, it’s staggering that Níniel is the only other one (pg 218 “Turambar restrained himself no longer, but asked her in marriage”), because there is a very big elephant in the room, and it’s the person whom Níniel is occasionally compared to, Finduilas.  Finduilas is mentioned three times in the text after her death, including twice by Túrin himself in direct quotations:

- “Then Turambar who led the men started back and covered his eyes, and trembled; for it seemed that he saw the wraith of a slain maiden that lay on the grave of Finduilas.” (pg. 214, when Túrin first finds Níniel)

- "But even as he spoke, he wondered, and mused in his mind: 'Or can it be that one so evil and fell shuns the Crossings, even as the Orcs? Haudh-en-Elleth! Does Finduilas lie still between me and my doom?’” (pg. 229, when Túrin is preparing to fight Glaurung for the last time),

- “Therefore he arose and went to the Crossings of Teiglin, and as he passed by Haudh-en-Elleth he cried: 'Bitterly have I paid, O Finduilas! that ever I gave heed to the Dragon. Send me now counsel!’” (pg. 253, after he’s killed Brandir and is desperately trying to deny that Níniel was Niënor, his sister)

This is huge. And it’s huge, because Túrin is not in love with Finduilas. This, again, is explicit, and textual, "In truth Finduilas was torn in mind. For she honoured Gwindor and pitied him, and wished not to add one tear to his suffering; but against her will her love for Turin grew day by day, and she thought of Beren and Luthien. But Turin was not like Beren! He did not scorn her, and was glad in her company; yet she knew that he had no love of the kind she wished. His mind and heart were elsewhere, by rivers in springs long past.” (pg 166, ”Túrin in Nargothrond”). So.  Túrin never falls in love with Finduilas, and, in fact, the reason he doesn’t fall in love with her is that his “mind and heart are elsewhere”.  Hmmmm. I wonder where his heart is?

Okay, so then why is it that Túrin repeatedly refers to Finduilas but not to Beleg?  It’s really obvious based on the quotes I’ve given so far that he was in love with Beleg (and for god’s sake, the man doesn’t talk for a YEAR after Beleg’s death), that he was not in love with Finduilas, and that he was (or thought he was, at least) in love with Níniel, enough to ask her to marry him.  So where the hell is Beleg in his thoughts for all this time when he’s falling for Níniel and thinking back to Finduilas?

For the answer to this, we need to consider the dual nature of Níniel’s relationship to Túrin, and what its source is.

Yes, Túrin loves Níniel, as his wife, but we know he also loved his sister Niënor, as a sister, and part of the reason he kills himself is that he can’t handle that he’s driven his sister to her death via incest (albeit accidental incest).  It’s notable that Túrin loves Finduilas as a sister,

“Then Turin spoke freely to [Finduilas] concerning these things, though he did not name the land of his birth, nor any of his kindred; and on a time he said to her: 'I had a sister, Lalaith, or so I named her; and of her you put me in mind. But Lalaith was a child, a yellow flower in the green grass of spring; and had she lived she would now, maybe, have become dimmed with grief. But you are queenly, and as a golden tree; I would I had a sister so fair.’” (pg. 164, “Túrin in Nargothrond”.)

So these references to Finduilas make a narrative kind of sense — in addition to it mostly happening as Túrin is passing her grave, it’s a textual reminder of a hidden truth: Níniel is not just Túrin’s lover, but also his sister.  He even finds her upon the grave of someone he loved as a sister.  But there’s another truth hidden in the text as well, and it’s related to Níniel’s nature as Túrin’s lover.  Because let’s be real, if he found her on the grave of someone he loved very firmly in a non-romantic way, why does he become romantically interested in her?  She’s his sister—obviously he doesn’t know that, but the narrative is saying it very, very clearly.  Well…there’s a confounding factor.

Here’s how Túrin finds Níniel (pg. 214): “Now it chanced that some of the woodmen of Brethil came by in that hour from a foray against Orcs, hastening over the Crossings of Teiglin to a shelter that was near; and there came a great flash of lightning, so that the Haudh-en-Elleth was lit as with a white flame.”

And here is how Túrin discovers that he has killed Beleg (pg. 155): “But as he stood, finding himself free, and ready to sell his life dearly against imagined foes, there came a great flash of lightning above them, and in its light he looked down on Beleg's face.”

The narrative does draw a parallel between Níniel and Beleg, an extremely strong (if subtle) one.  It uses literally the same phrase to set up the scene: “there came a great flash of lightning”.  So there’s a pretty clear answer as to why Túrin might associate Níniel with romantic love—he doesn’t just find her on his as-it-were sister’s grave, he finds her in a way that hearkens strongly back to the last time he ever saw his lover’s face.

So why doesn’t he think of Beleg now?

Why is the thought of his lover—whose loss cut him so deeply he didn’t speak for a year—so far out of his mind at this moment that his name isn’t even mentioned, even when narratively there’s no way he shouldn’t think of him?

Okay, I’ve drawn this out enough, so let’s cut to the chase: Glaurung. Glaurung, who is responsible for the first hidden truth that I mentioned, the more textually explicit one, that Níniel is Niënor, Túrin’s sister.  He bespells Niënor upon Amon Ethir, “Then he drew her eyes into his, and her will swooned. And it seemed to her that the sun sickened and all became dim about her; and slowly a great darkness drew down on her and in that darkness there was emptiness; she knew nothing, and heard nothing, and remembered nothing,” (pg 209, “The Journey of Morwen and Niënor”) causing her to lose her memories and with her memories her name and therefore any way for Túrin to know who she is.  Glaurung earlier bespells Túrin as well, “Without fear Turin looked in those eyes as he raised up his sword; and straightway he fell under the dreadful spell of the dragon, and was as one turned to stone.” (pg. 178, “the Fall of Nargothrond”)  The first, obvious result of Glaurung’s spell (and the only explicit one) is that he leaves Finduilas and rushes off to try and find Morwen and Niënor.  Now, we’re meant to believe that this is all that the spell does, since in “The Return of Túrin to Dor-Lómin”, pg. 166, the text notes, “And suddenly a black wrath shook him; for his eyes were opened, and the spell of Glaurung loosed its last threads, and he knew the lies with which he had been cheated.”

But I don’t think this makes sense.  I think Tolkien is being poetical here and the “last threads” he’s talking about are specifically the lies about Finduilas.  A number of Túrin’s conversations with Níniel point towards the fact that he’s forgotten something really important and that in that regard the dragon’s spell is still intact.  For example, when Túrin tells Níniel what to call him (pgs 217-218, “Niënor in Brethil”):

“Then she paused as if listening for some echo; but she said: 'And what does that say, or is it just the name for you alone?'

“’It means,' said he, 'Master of the Dark Shadow. For I also, Niniel, had my darkness, in which dear things were lost; but now I have overcome it, I deem.’”

“My darkness” is eerily similar to the repeated motif of Níniel’s darkness, which explicitly refers to the spell cast on her by Glaurung.  

“Behind her lay only an empty darkness” (pg 213, “Niënor in Brethil”); “it seem to her that the darkness that lay behind her was overtaking her again” (pg 214, “Niënor in Brethil”); “it seemed to her that she had found at last something that she had sought in the darkness” (pg. 215, “Niënor in Brethil”); and the two most relevant quotations, “And at that name she looked up, and she shook her head, but said: 'Níniel.' And that was the first word that she spoke after her darkness, and it was her name among the woodmen ever after” (pg 216, ”Niënor in Brethil”); and “when at length she had learned enough to speak with her friends she would say: 'What is the name of this thing? For in my darkness I lost it.’” (pg. 217, “Niënor in Brethil”)

So here it is: Túrin has lost “dear things” in “his darkness” (Glaurung’s spell) and he thinks that Níniel is what he has lost, but she isn’t—or she isn’t the only thing that’s missing. Glaurung has ripped out of Túrin’s mind the memory of the only person he’s ever had romantic feelings for—Beleg—and because he’s confused and trying to find something to fill that gap, Níniel gets cast in a dual role—not just sister (with her ties to Finduilas) but also lover (with her subtler ties to poor, missing Beleg).  

This theory also has significant implications for Túrin’s death, since that’s the only time that Beleg is mentioned again, apart from a tangential sidenote.  When Mablung finally confirms to Túrin what he’s already beginning to fear is the truth, that Níniel was his sister Niënor, he runs up to the Cabed-en-Aras, from which Níniel has thrown herself, and he asks his sword to kill him. His sword is Gurthang, which was Anglachel, made by Eöl, the sword that Thingol gave to Beleg and that Túrin used to accidentally kill him, and the response is somewhat unexpected, since up till now we haven’t had any indication that it’s a talking sword,

“‘And from the blade rang a cold voice in answer: 'Yes, I will drink your blood, that I may forget the blood of Beleg my master…I will slay you swiftly.’” (pg. 256, “The Death of Túrin”)

Interestingly, this is after the sword has been reforged, and there’s no particular reason it should refer to Beleg as its master — after all, Túrin has been wielding it for years, and it was made by someone else entirely.  So then, why?  And why does it ask to forget his blood in particular?

Because Túrin has remembered, finally.  Whether the sword is picking up on the mood, whether it’s a narrative device, or whether it isn’t even really talking and it’s just Túrin’s mind playing tricks on him in his last extremis, I don’t know—though I favor the latter interpretation, particularly because Túrin himself is referred to as “the Black Sword” on numerous occasions.  But the important point here is Túrin has remembered, because Glaurung is dead, and his memory spells die with him, “Then Nienor sat as one stunned, but Glaurung died; and with his death the veil of his malice fell from her, and all her memory grew clearer before her, from day unto day, neither did she forget any of those things that had befallen her since she lay on Haudh-en-Elleth.” (pg. 243, “The Death of Glaurung”)

So Túrin knows by now exactly what he’s done—not only inadvertently marrying his sister but betraying the one great romantic love of his life.  The one he has probably just remembered accidentally killing in great detail.  It’s probably quite present in his mind when, rather than throw himself over the waterfall as Níniel did, he flings himself onto the very same sword that killed the only person he was ever in love with, whose name he has finally, finally been able to bring to mind…

In sum, Glaurung erases Beleg’s memory so thoroughly from Túrin’s mind that only tiny, hidden glimpses remain, even in the text.  This is the solution to the mystery of the vanishing Elf; it explains why Beleg vanishes right up until the very end, and it ties together the sense I had when I was reading the second half of something missing, something hidden, something incomplete.  It is, I imagine, the same way Túrin must have felt after he awoke—as he thought, completely—from the spell that Glaurung laid upon him the first time they fought.

[A/N: I also wrote a fic based on this premise: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28980519 ]

#Túrin #Beleg #Silmarillion #the silmarillion #Turin Turambar #Beleg Cúthalion #Beleg Strongbow #meta #not my writing

[crimsonrae]

Disintegration

Chapter One

Summary: He witnessed the worst night of her life, he just never expected for her to become the love of his life.

KlausxCami

Rating: Mature

A/N: First a warning, there is a mature, though brief, sex scene. Hopefully, you all read the author's note. I was originally going to have this be the final chapter to this story... but, I thought it gave it a more interesting perspective as a story to the Mikaelson Clan. Plus, I truly hated that Camille died and part of my grieving process of her character's death was giving her a way to survive Lucien's bite in this story. So I snapped this chapter forward to the day Camille was supposed to die. I hope you all enjoy. The next few chapters will be Klaus's and Cami's journey after that night at the bar and how they got to where they are in this chapter. I promise the bond will eventually be explained.

Please read, review, and enjoy.

Chapter One

New Orleans, 2016

"You will find peace..."

As he uttered these final words to the first woman in a thousand years to have completely stolen his heart, Klaus unconsciously reached for the bond that had been severed upon her turning. The intangible link that had provided him peace for so long... It was only at the last second that he remembered the bond was no more and he would brush against a wall... but he didn't. The wall was present, but not as finite as it had been. The brick had turned to a picket fence.

He could feel her. He could sense his Camille. Still there, still bright, simply out of reach. He pressed against those planks desperate to break that final barrier... if only to have a few more minutes with her.

"Camille..." He whispered, unable to keep his impetuous need from his voice, "Camille... Stay with me, love. Please."

His hand grasped hers with a fierce intensity, "Reach for our bond. I need you to reach for it, push for it, please. Camille. I am begging you. Twice now, you have made me beg and I do not beg. Do not deny me again."

Tears crawled down his cheeks as he battered frantically at those planks. She was so close.

Blood entwines. Blood enshrines

He choked as he remembered the night of their binding. They had exchanged blood.

He had given her his when he had seen Lucien's bite. Had that weakened the barrier?

He ripped open his wrist without a second thought, "Camille, I'm going to bite you, love. Drink from me when I do. Drink and seek our bond. Please, Camille. Please."

His strained pleading had brought in his siblings as they felt the end was here. Placing his wrist over her mouth, Klaus sunk his teeth into the tender flesh of her neck – never noticing the distraught cries of Freya and Elijah as he took her poisoned blood into himself. He was still locked in Jackson Square, cradling Camille to his chest as he drank deeply... all the while straining for their bond and praying that she heard him.

It was so tentative, he swore he had imagined it at first, the tepid glance of her tongue against his flesh. Yet, as his blood dribbled down into her throat that pull grew stronger, and gradually, he matched his pulls with hers.

Blood entwines. Blood enshrines.

Please.

Those tedious planks warbled, and his heart surged. Drawing her blood further into him, he felt her do the same. He struck out at that barrier again and near crowed as he felt it crumbled.

Neither he nor Camille witnessed the light that spilled from their laced forms. Elijah and Freya stood dumbstruck as they bore witness to the final cementing of a bond that neither had been aware of existing. It was with this startling flash that the otherworldly beauty came crashing to an end.

Simultaneous cries of pain and anguish filled the air as the light receded back into the shadows. Camille's body arched and her jade eyes flew wide as fierce fire spiraled through her limbs. Her blood had turned to a molten river, and she swore she was burning from the inside out. Never once noticing how Lucien's bite gradually disappeared from her arm.

Klaus was in no better condition as he snarled into the crook of her neck. The veined lines around his eyes vanished as yellow glowed with sun-like intensity into the threaded fibers of his bedsheets. It was as if oil had spilled into his veins, simply to be lit by a torch. Only a millennium's worth of torment allowed him to find enough semblance of control not to dig his claws into the woman below him as he fought against wave after wave of pain.

Cami did not have the same fortune as she screamed vainly. Her blunted nails bit into his sides as she fell victim to their strange torture. Yet, she was the first to feel the kiss of their bond – more open to the renewed and strengthened link as she lost her battle against the riptide.

She could feel him.

Klaus.

She couldn't remember that last time she felt him so clearly. All his conflicting and contrasting emotions, his shaky control and tireless rage, his unbounded love, and endless fear. He swarmed her like a hurricane. The same fire that had burned her spurned him and unthinkingly she reached out to soothe him. She hated his pain, far more than she ever did her own. Her soul met his like a spring storm, showering drops of relief as the two meshed for the first time in several months. It was the connection that was needed as her pain spiraled back and the heat that ensconced her turned carnal.

She wanted him... needed him.

As if in answer to her unspoken desire, his golden gaze seared hers. Klaus felt her essence enshroud his and was struck with muted elation as her dwindling presence burst like a nova within him. She was strong once again and she was here. She was his.

His mouth crashed against hers, drawing lurid moans forth as a new wave of the bond pulled them under.

The older Mikaelson siblings quickly departed the room as it became obvious that there would be no stopping of the amorous couple. Their presence had been soundly overlooked as clothes littered the floor and sheets cocooned naked limbs.

Freya turned wide eyes to her brother, "Did you see..."

She paused unable to voice what exactly it was that they had just witnessed.

Elijah was of a similar disposition as he soundly ignored the lewder noises coming from his brother's bedroom, "Yes... but what has just occurred, I have no Godly idea. Best wait until Niklaus and Camille reappear for answers."

Freya could only nod, "From death's door to life's garden. I need a drink."

"Quite right." He concurred and as one they went downstairs and to the reserve liquor cabinet. Neither certain of what was to come.

___________________________________

Their coupling was frenzied, wild, and raw. There wasn't an inch of skin that Klaus hadn't clawed, bit, or fucked as he rammed her greedy womb with single-minded determination. He had wished their first tryst to be more languid. He had wanted time to explore her body, to draw her delicious notes of satisfaction to a crescendo before starting the process all over again. But like all his desires and plans for them, that plan laid slain on the roadside. He was lost to the nearly unbearable need to slake his lust... no, that wasn't right. It was more than lust that drove him. A primal need he had long since thought dead roared with renewed life, demanding him to claim, to breed and he had never been good at denying his baser urges.

Her creamy flesh had become littered with dark bruises under his ministrations and the only thing that kept his guilt at bay was that Camille seemed to be just as lost to this carnal storm. She tugged and bit and urged him on – meeting each of his thrusts and demanding more. It wasn't until he felt her fall apart for what felt like the hundredth time, but was really the fourth, that he released for the third and final time. His need dwindled as he felt their combined passions spill from their connected bodies.

Camille twitched and trembled against him. Her shapely thighs locking him in place as her wonderous cavern milked him of everything he had to offer. She wasn't ready to let him go, and he wasn't ready to leave. His sweaty brow met hers as he nuzzled her cheek, silently asking what he could not voice.

It was a relief when she brushed her mouth against his, but a thrill when he felt a sudden billow of affection – her affection, her love awash the bond. It was only then that Klaus opened his eyes to meet her dazzled gaze.

"Hey." Camille breathed a smile and could not help her chuckle as he stared at her in bemused marvel, a giddy grin painted his lips.

Klaus couldn't stop his laugh. The hell of the past twenty-four hours, the painful confessions, and drawn emotions of the end, their exuberant ardor and last-minute save all came crashing on him and the only word she could utter was a shy greeting.

Gods, did he love this woman.

It was this unfettered sentiment that made him silently vow to not waste further time with her. His laugh choked back a ragged sob as his fingers tangled into her soft locks, "Hey, love... you're here."

"Yeah." Camille murmured, a few stray tears spilling down her cheeks as she leaned into his touch, "Yeah, I am."

The pads of her fingers drew him closer still, neither was ready to return to the real world, but questions gnawed at her. A thoughtful frown clouded her expression, "Klaus...what happened? What did we do?"

Mildly annoyed and wholly unsurprised that it was Camille to push aside their contented bubble, he could only sigh, "I'm not sure, but our bond... Our bond has proven far more beneficial than I could have ever realized."

"This doesn't make sense. I thought my turning had severed it."

Klaus frowned, not sure how to answer. He had followed his instincts the second he realized that he could still feel her. Easing his weight off her, he bit back a grin as she mewled in discontent. He felt much the same, but he had no desire to crush her. Yet as he moved, he noted her bruises weren't fading nor was his bite.

Unease crawled down his spine. She should be healing, between his blood and her... Klaus paused as he ran his hand over her chest to rest on her quickly beating heart, "Camille... are you hungry?"

He was ravenous. His need for blood was being vastly ignored and he would only be able to tolerate such deprivation for a short while longer. A newborn vampire should not have such control, unless -

"A little. More thirsty..." Camille trailed off as she realized she was about to ask for water. She hadn't required water for weeks now, "Oh my God."

"You're human again." Klaus murmured in awe; his mind raced with the implications of this change. Unthinkingly, he bit into his palm to give her his blood – He had no desire to look at the myriad of bruises that decorated her flesh.

Camille breathed in sharply and he froze as her fingers rested next to his eye, "Your eyes... they had been gold earlier while we were – They're back to blue now, but gold and black, no veins."

"Drink." He whispered, ignoring her momentary hesitation at the sight of his opened palm. He was aware that her mind had drifted back to the last time she had imbibed vampiric blood while human.

Klaus wasn't sure what to make of all of this, but he had his suspicions. One of which had much to do with his driven need to breed Camille. Despite the fact that it should be impossible, he already had one child that defied expectation. His gaze drifted to her smooth belly, "We need to talk with Freya. I think I may -"

"Have knocked me up?" She finished shakily, not sure if the sudden spike of anxiety in her veins came from her or him.

Klaus hummed, not surprised that she had cottoned on to his line of thought.

"Even if I'm pregnant, we won't know for a few weeks." Cami murmured, as her thoughts began to spill quickly from her mouth, "It takes time for fertilization to occur... I don't know if it's better or worse that I'm human now. With Lucien suped-up into... whatever he is, his bite is no longer toxic to me, but he can rip me apart so easily."

A cold rage poured through her veins, taking her breath away. Christ, she had no doubt that was all Klaus.

"You will go nowhere near Lucien. You'll stay here, every time you're out of my sight..." He drew a calming breath, barely controlling his temper, "I will take care of Lucien."

"Like you took care of Aurora?" She couldn't help but ask, there was no keeping the bitterness from her tone.

Hurt flared from both of them and Klaus barely bit back the more caustic words on his tongue, "I will not lose you, Camille. This was too close."

Cami stared long and hard at him, before softening. There were too many unknown factors for them to continue with this discussion and arguing would do neither of them any good. Instead, her fingers delved into the shorn locks at his nape, caressing him in a silent truce, "You need to feed. I can feel your hunger and we need answers. We'll table this discussion until after."

For Klaus there would be no discussion, his mind was already made up. He would not risk her. Not again. He brushed a kiss to her temple, "A few more minutes, I'm not ready to stop touching you yet."

It was only then that Camille realized he was still in her

___________________________________

It was over an hour later when the two stepped from his bedroom freshly showered. Klaus threaded his fingers through hers. He was still staving off his hunger and it was driving her slowly crazy. Camille was at once flattered and exasperated by how literal he was being about not letting her leave his sight. She would have chided him for it if it weren't for the fact that she felt the same. It was irrational, but she wanted him within reaching distance like a child needing a security blanket. It was the fact that this impulse was so strong that she knew it couldn't continue. She couldn't expect Klaus to be with her every second.

Fortifying herself, they had only made it two steps when she called out, "Elijah."

Irritation crawled down her spine and she sent an admonishing glare to her left as she felt the air displace to her right.

"I see you two have decided to come up for air." Elijah greeted drolly as he eyed them speculatively, relief pouring through him at the sight of Camille up and about, "I am glad to see you are better, Camille. You're positively glowing."

His word choice must have been poor as the couple before him froze, exchanging a strange glance.

"Thank you, Elijah." Camille smiled wryly, "Klaus needs to feed, but he's being stubborn - "

"I will grab a bag - "At Camille's baleful stare, Klaus sighed and prodded her toward Elijah, "Keep an eye on her, brother. I'll be back soon."

Elijah nodded, even as he watched his brother depart with a frown. It wasn't until he turned his appraisal back onto Camille that he noticed what he had missed the first time around, "You're human."

"Seem to be." Camille replied with a shrug, "I'm not entirely sure if it's going to last if I'm honest. I feel like Klaus threw a Hail Mary and it worked, but what if it's temporary? What if in a few hours I'm knocking on Death's door again?"

The words flooded from her in a rush, it was an anxiety that she hadn't worked up the courage to share with Klaus just yet and she suddenly felt horrible for dumping it on Elijah. He looked as uncertain as she felt and she smiled sheepishly, "I'm sorry, Elijah. My mind hasn't stopped spinning since I realized I could breathe again."

"Indeed, you have a right to feel concerned, Camille. But, whatever it is my brother has managed, I can't bring myself to be upset about it." He smiled softly, "I truly am happy that you are still with us... and I'm sure it will be for more than a few hours. Niklaus wouldn't allow for anything less."

"You're probably right." She murmured, though her fear hardly lessened. She shook off her more morbid thoughts as they walked into the common room and she noticed no one around, "Where is everyone? Klaus and I need to speak with Freya, but I have the feeling it'll be better to have this conversation once and with everyone present."

Elijah shifted uncomfortably, though a mirthful glint had entered his gaze, "Yes, well, I believe it was a tad too noisy here for everyone."

"Noisy?" Camille blurted as she took in the stalwart silence of the compound.

She missed the humorous twitch of his mouth as he needled, "Yes, you're quite vocal."

It took a second for the implication of his words to sink before she flushed scarlet. Her hands flew to her face in horror as embarrassment swelled, "Oh. My. God! Elijah!"

He barely held in a laugh as he teased, "Of course it probably would have helped if you had closed the door."

"I can never look anyone in the eye again." Camille groaned and collapsed onto the couch, "I'm going to regret asking this, but why are you still here?"

"I had the onerous task of giving everyone the all-clear. Might I suggest never play rock-paper-scissors against a witch. You always lose. Speaking of..." Elijah reached into his coat pocket and removed his phone. He sent a message out to their group chat, "Done. Everyone should be here shortly."

"Wonderful." She uttered dryly, "I've been saved from a suped-up hybrid bite only to be killed by mortification. Sounds about right."

"Oh nonsense, it won't kill you. You'll just merely wish it had." The delighted smirk that crossed Elijah's lips was positively devious.

And absolutely familiar. It was moments like these that Camille had no problem seeing the familial resemblance between Elijah and Klaus. Her gaze narrowed, "Oh shut up."

"Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one she says that to."

Elijah and Camille turned to the entryway to see Klaus striding back in with a glass of blood in hand. This time the thrill of irritation that crawled down her spine was hers at the sight.

Klaus sensed her displeasure and held up a hand, "Before you start, I did feed from a tourist on the corner. Just took enough to take the edge off and came back for a bag."

Unconsciously, she brushed their bond to find his hunger mildly sated and no longer cloying. Tolerable was a good word for it, not that this made her much happier.

Klaus arched a brow at her and purposefully sipped from his glass, "See compromise."

Her unimpressed glower let him know she wasn't pleased, but as Camille shifted to let him sit beside her, he also knew she wouldn't fight with him about it. He produced a bag from his back pocket and held it out to her. Cami's expression brightened as she recognized the white paper and swirly cursive before snatching the small parcel from him. He flopped back into the corner and tugged her against his side as she pulled out two cookies from the bakery down the block.

The byplay didn't go unnoticed by Elijah as he studied the silent way that they were communicating with each other. Something had changed, but he couldn't put his finger on what besides the obvious. His brother had always shared an unspoken connection with Camille, but he sensed a shift more profound than one garnered from a romantic entanglement.

Klaus ignored his brother's studious stare and delved his senses out to locate his sister, "Where is everyone?"

Camille stilled and Elijah huffed a quiet laugh. Bemused at the reaction he was seeing and feeling, he pressed his query, "What?"

"You were a bit rowdy earlier. No one wanted to intrude." Elijah reiterated mildly. He was unsurprised when Klaus merely blinked.

"I didn't think we were that loud." A stream of embarrassment flared in his chest, and he turned his gaze to the top of Camille's head.

She stared determinedly at the cookie in her hand with a quietly murmured, "God."

"Yes, I believe there was quite a lot of sermonizing being shouted." Elijah couldn't help the taunt.

Klaus snickered as he watched her chuck the cookie bag at his brother, "I suppose that's why Camille resembled a tomato when I came in? Tormenting my bo-beloved, brother?"

Bonded. He was going to say bonded, and Camille wasn't sure why that thought sent such a rush through her veins, it wouldn't be the first time she had been addressed as such.

If Elijah noticed his slip, he said nothing as he wryly stated, "Hardly tormenting. Merely teasing my little sister."

Klaus and Camille stilled in surprise at the familial bequeathment. She had no expectation of such recognition, and he was merely astonished by the acknowledgment.

Their twin stares made Elijah roll his eyes, feeling mildly insulted, "While you may not carry our surname yet, Camille, you've proven to be a part of our family on more than one occasion. So please do try not to look so shocked. You too, brother."

An affectionate smile pulled at Klaus's lips which he quickly hid behind his glass. Yet, Elijah's knowing glance told him he was fooling no one.

___________________________________

"How long have they been like that?"

"Shhh, don't wake them."

There was a weight on his chest. Klaus blinked slowly as gentle murmurings rushed past his ears. A swath of blonde hair rested in his eye-line, and it took him a minute to realize that Camille was soundly sleeping against his chest.

How long had he been asleep?

He just remembered being hit with a wave of exhaustion as they waited on everyone to return. He had a vague memory of Marcel entering the compound as his eyes had drifted shut, but nothing beyond that.

"What time is it?" He asked, shifting to sit up a little more properly as he tried not to jostle Camille. It surprised him that he had slept while others surrounded them. He was normally a light sleeper. It made him leery how much deeper his rest became when Camille was beside him.

"Nearly seven." Freya supplied from her perch at the bar.

His gaze drifted around the room as he took stock of who was present. Marcel was pouring himself a drink, Vincent sat next to Freya, Elijah and Hayley had taken residence in the armchairs. It somehow felt wrong to not have Rebekah present.

A swift pain clamped through his gut and Klaus suppressed an irritated sigh as his fangs edged along the inside of his cheek. His hunger had returned in full force. He was loath to admit that Camille had been right, he had needed more fresh blood.

"Go feed."

He blinked as he noticed Camille's sleepy glare. It took him a minute to realize that his hunger had driven her awake. He tried to mute his end of their bond but couldn't seem to find the edge to tether it closed.

As she continued to glower, Klaus rolled his eyes, "What do you want to eat?"

"I'm fine, just would like some water," Camille answered, as she shifted to sit up.

He returned her unimpressed stare, "You haven't eaten anything besides those cookies. You need something more substantial. If I'm to leave, I might as well get you something."

"Surprise me." She yawned, exhaustion still clinging to her limbs.

He nodded and grabbed his phone. He already had a meal in mind and if he called it in now it'd be ready by the time he was done with his own meal. He pressed a quick kiss to her temple and slipped past Marcel.

"No bags!"

He cursed the fact that she had ever been a vampire. She had learned the restorative value of pulling their food from the tap far too quickly. Though in truth, he normally wouldn't take issue with this request, he still felt uncomfortable letting her out of his sight.

The feeling echoed with Camille as he disappeared. She had to fight the urge to call him back, but her attention soon fell on the gathered crowd, and she smiled as she took in their curious and relieved stares, "Hey guys."

"I see you're amongst the living again." Vincent greeted with a grin and she knew he wasn't referring to her near-death experience.

Camille smirked, "Who knew it would take almost dying to make me human again? How long were we asleep?"

Elijah answered with a light, "An hour if that. You both fell asleep relatively quickly. Are you sure you shouldn't be resting now?"

She could only shrug, "Klaus and I aren't sure about what we triggered. I think it better that we start looking for a few answers sooner rather than later."

"What exactly did you guys trigger?" Hayley queried curiously; she had done a double-take when she had spotted their slumbering forms. She was sure that she had never seen Klaus look so peaceful and it had only been more startling to note Camille's new state. Old state?

"Yeah, you were a step away from desiccating when Vincent and I left earlier." Marcel chimed in, "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy you're alright, Cami...it's just, what the hell?"

Cami shifted uncomfortably, tempted to ask for a whiskey as she sensed the interrogation commencing, but the lingering thought of her potential pregnancy stilled her tongue. Instead, she sighed and shook her head, "We should wait for Klaus, part of what happened has to do with something that occurred a long time ago and... and I'm not really sure what he – we did to initiate such a cataclysmic change. Can't say I'm not grateful for it though, wasn't really keen on dying."

Her words brought a round of murmured agreement before Hayley prodded again, "Yeah, but what was that with Klaus? You practically ordered him to eat and he...obeyed. It was like you guys were speaking a different language for a minute."

"Well, that's hardly new." Freya piped up, "From what I've witnessed those two have all kinds of silent conversations. It's like they have their own bandwidth they can tune into, but no one else can."

That comparison wasn't too far from the truth, Camille thought dryly as she took note of the various degrees of agreement once again.

"Yeah, but this was different. It was like she compelled him or something."

She frowned, "How often are you guys watching us?"

A smile quirked on Elijah's lips as he shared a knowing glance with his sister. Hayley raised a brow as Marcel and Vincent hid grins behind their drinks.

"You have no idea, do you?" Hayley uttered sagely.

"No idea of what?"

A few breathy chuckles broke the tense atmosphere and Camille blinked.

"Klaus is different with you, Cami." Hayley pointed out, but she could see Cami didn't fully comprehend, "He's more patient, protective. He acts like an honest to God person with you, more than that he treats you like one."

In her favor, Camille had known that he was more gentle with her than most others, but she didn't think it was a huge difference. She also didn't think their interactions warranted such close scrutiny

"I know – I know he loves me." Camille said carefully, it felt strange to verbalize those words, "But I didn't think you guys were watching us like we're the local telenovela."

Marcel bit back another grin, "It's fun to see that Klaus isn't all bite and bark. And admittedly, he is dramatic enough to have his own show."

Hayley snorted as the thought took root, "Really, we should write a book about our lives. We may end up getting a movie deal or something."

"As long as we don't sparkle." Elijah interjected drolly, "Honestly, who would be terrified of a vampire who sparkles?"

Laughter erupted in the common room and Cami felt herself relax into the couch cushions as Elijah's comment ignited a storm of banter. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Hope woke and cried plaintively from her room. Camille could no longer hear it, but all the vampires suddenly shifted their attention and Hayley was out the door before anyone could say a word.

It was mere minutes later she came in with the cranky toddler. Camille smiled softly as she watched mother and daughter. So much time had been stolen from both that it always warmed her heart when she was able to see these precious moments. Yet, as she watched the duo, dread began to pool in her belly.

Would that be her? Would she have to battle for every second with her child should she be pregnant?

Klaus and Hayley had done nothing but fight to keep their little girl safe since she had been born. She would be doing the same thing... and Camille had the distinct impression that Klaus would be as unwilling to let her depart to a remote area with their child as he had been with Hope. He had loathed every second that his daughter had been removed from his home and she couldn't blame him. It would kill her to have to stay away from her child in order to keep him or her safe.

So lost in her thoughts she barely noticed Davina's arrival or Klaus's return until a styrofoam container was placed in her lap. She blinked as she noticed quite a few bags and boxes being set out. He had gotten enough food for an army, but then she had seen the way Vincent, Hayley, and Freya put away food.

Concerned cerulean eyes locked onto hers and Camille realized that Klaus had been taken on her emotional rollercoaster ride. She smiled reassuringly at him, but his arched brow let her know that he wasn't prepared to let it go. Which was fine. They would need to have a series of difficult discussions once the group meeting was over. She cast a pointed gaze to the room, and he nodded in understanding but sent her a look of his own that clearly communicated that they would talk later.

She barely refrained from rolling her eyes and turned her attention to the box on her lap. Her mouth watered as familiar smells floated through the air.

An appreciative grin lit her face as she took in the gourmet burger and fries that he had brought her. Klaus's idea of substantial was barely a step above fast food it seemed – but then she also had the notion that he had been looking at efficiency as much as quality.

Klaus slipped next to her and opened the packets of salt and pepper and made a small mountain on the inside of the lid. She passed him the spare napkin from her box before removing the pickle from her burger. Condiments passed between them, as did a handful of fries with little thought. Camille didn't look up until Klaus set a bottle of water next to her and found everyone staring at them.

Klaus was munching on her fries when he followed her gaze, "...What?"

"You guys didn't even speak," Hayley murmured mystified, barely noting Hope stealing a fry from her plate.

Freya held up her drink pointedly, "I told you. Bandwidth."

Klaus frowned bemused as he turned an inquiring glance toward Camille. For her part, she had pointedly taken a bite from her burger feeling a strange chasm of exasperation and embarrassment. She barely held in the urge to stick her tongue out.

Klaus blinked and decided he was better off not knowing.

"So, Klaus is back. What did you guys do?" Marcel pressed impatiently, "I mean, Vincent and I were pouring through everything you had in that storage room for a miracle when Freya called us."

Klaus and Camille exchanged a loaded look as she tepidly asked, "How far back do we start this story?"

"Probably best to go all the way back." Klaus answered reluctantly before sighing, "By all means, love, tell them our little secret."

"What secret?" Hayley blurted.

Curiosity shined at them from all corners of the room. Klaus arched a brow but deferred to Camille. He would let her tell as much or as little of their story as she wished.

Camille shifted uncomfortably, feeling strangely like a little kid tattling, "Well, Klaus and I didn't meet three years ago. We met six – no, it's been almost seven, seven years ago."

There was a moment of stunned silence before of cacophonous storm of questions erupted.

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#Disintegration #the originals #klaus x camille #The Orginals fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #klaus mikaelson #camille o'connell #klamille

[vannahfanfics]

A Smile Like the Sun

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Lucy Heartfilia

Hey, everyone! :) This here is my submission for Day 7 of NaLu Week, for the prompt “Smile.” Unfortunately, with so many requests and events happening right now, I’m not able to do all the prompts, but I wanted to show just a little love for this adorable couple! Hopefully, I can go back and do the rest. Regardless, enjoy! :D

If Natsu had to choose the thing he loved most about Lucy, it would be her smile.

Natsu had never seen a smile as radiant as hers. It illuminated rooms like a beacon, filling the space to every corner with a warm, gentle light that no darkness could taint. Her smile seemed to be a sun in itself; not only was it bright and radiating, it possessed its own gravity. Natsu would find himself lured in by its magnetic pull. Lucy’s smile embodied everything about the luminous girl that Natsu adored- her kindness, her optimism, her friendliness, her beauty. Yes, Natsu Dragneel loved Lucy Heartfilia’s smile.

That’s why he immediately noticed its absence when he slipped into Lucy’s house to find her morosely lounging on her living room couch. A handful of crumpled tissues were scattered on and around the coffee table. Lucy lay on her back, sniffling despondently as she stared at a tear-stained piece of paper in her hand. Eyebrows knitted together in concern, Natsu walked into the living room and timidly asked, “Lucy? Are you okay?”

The celestial mage jolted into the sitting position and stuffed the paper behind the throw pillows. Laughing amiably, Lucy hastily wiped her tears away with her wrist and smiled at Natsu.

“Of course I am! What’s up?” Natsu hunched down, like a wary cat inspecting a new room. Her smile wasn’t right. The light was dimmed, like a lightbulb flickering in its last moments of life, and rather than a summery bright yellow, its aura was more of a sickly off-white. His green eyes bored intently into her form, taking note of the slouch in her shoulders and the unkempt crimps of her normally brushed and shampooed hair. “N-Natsu? What’s that look on your face for?” she chuckled nervously. She pressed her body into the disarrayed throw pillow where she had hidden the paper, obviously trying to shield it with her body. “I’m okay! Really! It’s just my allergies.”

Natsu’s nose wrinkled as he smelled the nervous sweat blooming on her body.

“You’re lying,” he accused. A pink flush appeared on Lucy’s cheeks, and she shook her head insistently.

“Nuh-uh! I’m perfectly fine, see?” She flashed him that smile again as if to use it at evidence, but it only affirmed Natsu’s suspicions. Lithe and cautious so as not to startle the edgy girl, he crept around the edge of the coffee table with slow, deliberate steps. Lucy fidgeted on the couch, sneaking her hand around the throw pillow. His keen ears heard the parchment wrinkle as she gripped it.

 “Lucy… What’s on that piece of paper?”

“Nothing!” she screamed and leaped from the couch to take off toward the hallway, flailing the parchment over her head. Natsu’s nostrils flared as he vaulted over the coffee table to spring in front of the girl. She squeaked and ducked under his arms as he lunged for her, veering off at a ninety-degree angle to flee into the kitchen. “Natsu! Leave me alone!” she wailed as he stormed after her. She scurried behind the kitchen table, heading for the exit to the entryway, but as Natsu came tromping around the other side of the furniture, she squealed and back-tracked. She stopped on the long side of the table while Natsu paused on the other, and they became embroiled in an intense stare-down. Each time Lucy shifted like she was going to flee, he stomped his foot threateningly and lunged in that direction, making her squeak and reconsider her decision.

“Lucy, I am not above climbing on this table!” he warned. He placed a foot on the cushioned seat to emphasize. Lucy cringed and retreated within herself, clutching the letter to her chest.

“What is it gonna take for you to give it a rest?!”

“Tell me what you were cryin’ about!”

“I wasn’t crying!” she protested and clutched the paper further into her bosom, crumpling it up. Natsu growled and stepped up onto the chair, preparing to scramble over the table’s surface. Lucy shrieked as he came shambling on all fours over the wood, but as he snatched for the paper, she shimmied away and took off back into the living room.

“Dammit, Lucy, c’mere!” Natsu roared, hopping off the table to scurry after her. He found her straddling the back of the couch, pushing up the window with one hand and swinging one leg over the windowsill. “Gotcha!” he grinned as he jumped onto the couch cushions and wound a thick arm around her waist.

“Natsu, nooooo!” she whined as he easily flung her like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. As he stepped down from the couch, he plucked the paper from her hand. Lucy bleated protests and pounded her fists into his upper back and shoulders; she then fell limp like a fish and groaned when he refused to budge, and just resigned herself to her defeat. Natsu’s leaf-green eyes scanned over the neatly printed letters on the page, a frown deepening on his face with every paragraph he read.

“… You got rejected for a publishing deal?”

Lucy sniffled wretchedly, then nodded with a tiny whimper. Natsu balled up the rejection letter in his hand and tossed it across the room so he wouldn’t have to look at it, because it would only anger him. How dare they reject Lucy? She’s a great writer! He thought haughtily and stamped his foot. He began grumbling under his breath about the publishing company’s incompetence, and for a moment, he was completely oblivious to Lucy. He blinked when he felt her shudder on his shoulder and glanced down between his arm and his body to see tears rolling down her cheeks. “Lucy!”

“That isn’t the first one. Six different companies have rejected my latest manuscript,” Lucy said dolefully. She scraped at her eyes with the heels of her palms, but the tears continued to flow. They beaded on her lashes like dew on grass blades after a morning rain. “I’ve lost my touch… I’m going to be a one-hit-wonder,” she sobbed. Natsu pursed his lips and walked back over to the couch. He fixed the cushion before plopping down, then resituated Lucy so that she was seated on his lap. She straddled him as she miserably wiped at her face, openly weeping and crying out in shame. “What do I do, Natsu?”

“Listen to me,” he grunted and grabbed both her wrists. Lucy offered no resistance as he pulled them down to rest on her thighs. Leaving them there, he cupped her face and swept his thumbs over her cheekbones to catch the tears still rolling over them. “You are not going to be a one-hit-wonder. Your stories are amazing! So what if those jerks are too blind to see it?” he huffed insistently. “Lucy, you’re going to be a famous author someday with tons and tons of published works under your belt. I know that because my Lucy never gives up.”

Finally, there it was. Lucy’s shaky lips wobbled into a tiny smile, like the first glimpse of the sun after being concealed by roiling gray storm clouds. She giggled, scrunching up her eyes like she always did, and leaned forward a little to lay her hands on his chest.

“You really think so?”

“I know so!” he frowned haughtily. Lucy chuckled again and leaned back, a blush alighting her cheeks. Natsu smiled warmly as that smile he adored so much finally broke out on her face, all teeth and glee. Her warm brown irises barely peeked out of her blonde lashes as she smiled with every ounce of energy in her body. The gloom in the house immediately evaporated, and sunlight streamed in from the open window behind them to bathe the living room in golden light. The natural sun’s glow couldn’t compete with Lucy’s smile, though- it was too warm, too bright, too gorgeous. He reached up to pinch her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and she opened her eyes to regard him curiously.

“There it is. I missed it.”

“Missed what?”

“Your smile, Lucy. It lights up the whole world. I’m sad without it.” Lucy blinked, then smiled affectionately. She melted over him, pressing her torso against his and winding her arms around his neck. Natsu was not prepared for such an overtly romantic gesture, and so he reflexively grabbed her hips. She seemed not to mind, for she began twisting the ends of his salmon-colored locks around her index fingers.

“That’s interesting. You wanna know a secret?” Blinking, he nodded. Lucy leaned forward some more, brushing the tip of her nose against his. “Your smile lights up my whole world.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm,” she nodded, cocking her head to the side as her fingers traveled further up his scalp. “I remember it so fondly- when you grabbed my hand, said we were going to Fairy Tail, and gave me the biggest, most beautiful smile.” Natsu, not used to so much overt praise, flushed as pink as his hair. Her chocolate-brown eyes smoldered with an intense heat that rivaled the temperature of his fierce flames, and they fixated intently on his face. Unable to hold Lucy’s searing gaze, Natsu’s green eyes dropped down to her lips. Suddenly, he was gripped by the overwhelming urge to kiss her. The little smile playing over her plump pink lips was simply so inviting; that gravity, stronger than the largest planet in the universe, effortlessly drew him in. He barely realized what he was doing before he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to hers.

She hummed serenely and relaxed against him. Natsu appreciated how every contour of her plush, pliant body molded so perfectly against his rugged contours. One of his hands swept a swathe of her golden hair away to tuck it behind her ear, while the other migrated to her waist, hugging the divot of her body. She tasted like strawberries with a faint hint of zesty lemons. He kissed her lips once, twice, three times, before pulling back a hair and looking into her eyes.

“What was that for?” she asked teasingly. Natsu flushed pink and looked down meekly.

“I dunno. I just felt like it ‘cuz you’re so gorgeous,” he admitted. Lucy snickered and reclined against him, laying her head on his shoulder and continuing to play with his tufts of soft pink hair. Natsu purred in contentment and nestled back into the couch, wrapped his arms around her lower back. She was so cozy and warm that he was beginning to drift off to sleep.

“Natsu?”

“Hnn?”

“Thank you. I feel much better.” He glanced down at her to find her smiling again, smiling truly like she ought to. He gave her a lopsided smirk and kissed her forehead.

“O’course.”

They drifted off together on the couch, like a couple of lazy house cats snoozing in the sun. However, Natsu’s sun wasn’t hanging in the blue sky outside; no, it lay in his arms. He held her tight to his chest, his Lucy, his bright golden sun and center of his universe.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

 Tag List: @nalu-week​ @deliathedork​ @searchfortheonepiece​

#naluweek #naluweek2020 #nalu #natsu x lucy #lucy x natsu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail #fairy tail lucy #fairy tail natsu #ft lucy #ft natsu #fairy tail fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction #ft fanfic #ft fanfiction

[grapefruitsketches]

Always Have Your Back

For fytheuntamed’s Untamed Fall Fest Day 4: Thankful

Rated T, 1,807 Words

Sizhui-centric, Junior Quarter, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Mild Panic

Also available on AO3

It happened fast. One moment, they had the demon cornered, trapped under Jin Ling’s shaky but stable golden dome, the next moment, there was a sound of branches snapping, leaves rustling from behind and something – he didn’t see what – grabbed Sizhui from behind, pulling him back along with it into the dark woods.

Sizhui heard the surprised shouts, the calls of his name, before he and his captor were far out of earshot. And still, they kept moving, deeper and deeper into the woods.

Sizhui breathed in, filling his lungs as best he could against the crushing grip of the creature. He took a moment to assess, even as the backwards rushing of trees to his left and right made him dizzy.

He looked down, seeing purpled, decaying skin. Claws that doubled the length of the fingers gripped into his chest, his stomach. He ignored the flash of pain that accompanied seeing just how far in the claws dug.

This looked like the same sort of demon they’d been dealing with before. Vulnerable to being attacked on all sides, quick enough that fighting one on one was much harder.

But he wasn’t dead yet. So the demon must have had another motive, other than killing him outright.

And whether that motive was keeping him as its own or there was some more specific method it wanted to use to dispose of the young cultivator, there was no way it was good, though the former would give him more time to escape, he supposed.

Ok. So what could he reach?

The demon’s arms clamped his arms close to his body, and there was no way to contort his arm to reach his sword, and not much he could do with it even if he somehow could.

His sleeves then. What was in his sleeves? He tried to remember, moving his arms softly to see what he could find without attracting suspicion as the demon dragged him ever deeper, as the trees grew ever denser.

Perfect! His skin brushed paper. He was still carrying blank talisman paper from earlier – Wei-qianbei had been teaching him some basics these last few months and he had been practicing before he and his friends had set out on this night hunt.

Ok. Good. Talisman paper could help him do all kinds of things so long as he could cut his finger on something and manage to get the paper into his hand and somehow write the characters and symbols needed.

He bent his wrist, flinching in anticipation before… WHAM, a branch whacked into his fingers, slicing the skin. The branch had certainly let the blood flow, but had maybe broken a finger or two in the process. Something to worry about later, hopefully.

So now to shift the talisman paper down. Slowly… slowly. There!

The paper fell into his palm. He shifted it awkwardly to the tips of his pinkie finger and thumb, trying not to get any blood on it, hoping the air rushing by hadn’t dried the blood too quickly. He stretched his index finger back and touched the paper, relieved to find his finger slid across easily, plenty of blood still running freely, though he flinched as his maybe-broken-maybe-not finger pressed against the page.

He worked quickly, and, hoping the talisman was well drawn enough to work, stuck it onto the demon wherever he could reach.

The demon dropped like a stone, Sizhui able to celebrate only a moment before the ground met him and the demon. There was a loud crack, and Sizhui had no doubt that his arm had just broken. But that was not important right now.

Sizhui, as soon as they hit the ground, had been ready. The demon released its grip in its shock only momentarily, but Sizhui used this time to roll quickly away.

The demon was pinned to the ground by the charm, but this would not hold for long. Taking only a few moments to calm his breaths, Sizhui drew his sword, grateful that his sword arm had only potential finger fractures, not definite arm breaks. He swung his arm high.

But before he could lower the blade, three sets of arrows landed in the demon’s core. It struggled, shuddered, then lay still.

Sizhui stood, frozen in shock, arm still raised though the strike was now unnecessary. He blinked once, twice. The only sound his heart, pounding in his ears.

“Sizhui!” Jingyi’s voice shook him out of his trance. He lowered his sword, sheathing it.

He turned. Jin Ling, Ouyang Zizhen and Lan Jingyi stumbled out from the brush into the small clearing created by the demon crashing down into it. He beamed widely at his friends, even as tears of fear, of relief, filled his eyes, “Y-you’re h-here!” he managed, voice shakier than he had anticipated.

“Of course we’re here, where else would we–“ Jingyi’s eyes widened, spotting the odd angle that Sizhui’s arm hung at, the tears in his robes where the monster had gripped him, the probably not insubstantial cuts on his face from the branches on the way down, “You’re hurt!”  

“Ah,” Sizhui smiled weakly, “It’s nothing, really. I’m fine.”

He really wished his knee hadn’t wobbled, buckled, just as he said that. He straightened back up quickly though.

“Sure you are,” Jingyi replied.

“You’re bleeding!” Zizhen said.

Jin Ling, eyes wide and staring at the place where Sizhui gripped his arm, said nothing, but moved over to Sizhui, sliding an arm under his (mostly) uninjured arm, supporting him.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Jin Ling said.

And suddenly Jingyi was at his other side, gently supporting his back, avoiding touching his arm, “Yeah, let’s go. We sent up a signal. Help should be here soon.”

Sizhui’s smile wavered. “Help” would certainly mean some combination of Hanguang-jun, Wei-qianbei, and Wen-xiansheng, and if any of them saw him half-carried in like this…

“Ah, I’m really fine! I can walk!” Sizhui chuckled, trying to make light of the situation, “It was my arms, not my legs, remember?”

“Sizhui…” Zizhen said skeptically, casting his gaze backwards towards the clearing, the mess made by Sizhui and the demon’s fall, and traced the path from there up to Sizhui’s still bleeding wounds, his broken arm, “I don’t really know if you’re in a state where you should…”

Sizhui sighed, “Well… Zizhen, I think you said you brought bandages with you? Can we at least, ah, wrap the worst of it before we get back?”

Sizhui couldn’t see his face, but he knew Jingyi well enough to know he had just rolled his eyes, “You really think they’re not going to notice if we just ‘wrap up the worst of it’?”

Sizhui let a smile flicker across his face, “Are you refusing me treatment, Jingyi?”

“You know, everyone thinks you’re so nice, but sometimes, you’re insufferable.” Jingyi laughed, but he and Jin Ling set him down.

Sizhui closed his eyes, trying to focus on breathing, on healing as Zizhen wiped his face clean with a dry cloth, wrapped his arm, his torso, and his fingers in bandages. Sizhui smiled gently, without opening his eyes, at his friend’s occasional sniffling as he uncovered more of the wounds, “I’m really ok, Zizhen.”

“Stop that.” Jin Ling cut in sharply.

Sizhui frowned, confused, “Stop what?”

“Stop just…”  Jin Ling huffed in frustration, “Stop acting like we’re the ones who need help, who need comforting. You’re… you’re hurt! We should have been there to help you before, and now at least let us help you now!”

“But…” Sizhui was at a loss for words, concentration completely broken. He opened his eyes, “But you were there to help? I was the one who got caught off-guard, got taken, got…” his breath quickened, remembering those moments of fear. Where all he could do was consider whether he was in immediate or more long-term risk of harm. Moments where he wasn’t sure yet if he was defenseless, subject entirely to the demon’s whims.

“Sizhui?” Jingyi cut into his thoughts, voice full of concern.

“It’s… it’s nothing. Just thinking.” Sizhui smiled again.

“You know…” Jingyi crossed his arms, watching as Zizhen pulled the bandage tight around Sizhui’s arm, holding it in place, making Sizhui flinch involuntarily, “I don’t say this a lot, but I agree with Jin Ling. You’re allowed to lean on us, even just for a moment.”

Sizhui opened his mouth to protest, but lost any hope of winning this argument as Zizhen nodded easily alongside Jingyi’s comment.

If all three of them were agreeing, then he supposed maybe there was something to it. They all looked at him. Bandaging done, waiting for him to tell them how they should proceed, varying degrees of concern, skepticism, and disapproval on each of their faces.

“So?” Jingyi asked.

Sizhui relented, “Fine. I’ll take your help,” he smiled mischievously, “as long as none of you take any blame, or guilt from this?”

“No promises, but I’ll try.” Jingyi said, smirking as the other two nodded. He moved a hand back behind Sizhui, boosting him from one side as Jin Ling helped from the other.

“I’ll take it.” Sizhui laughed.

They chatted about nothing on the way back to the field in which they had started.

To Sizhui’s dismay, but also a little to his amusement, he spotted an endlessly pacing Wei Wuxian, a tense and stiff Hanguang-jun, and a nervous and watchful Wen Qionglin all waiting for them.

At the sound of movement, all three tensed, preparing to defend against anything that might emerge, but immediately relaxed at the sight of the four juniors. Smiling and (mostly) well.

At the sight of Sizhui, Wei Wuxian fussed. Hanguang-jun asked many questions. Wen Qionglin pulled out some tinctures he had brought “just in case.”

They made it back to Cloud Recesses, and Sizhui was sent immediately to bed – no arguing allowed. As Sizhui lay back on his bed, he thought about the day, the demon, the panicked moments when he had thought he was one his own, that if he couldn’t figure it out himself, it could be his end.

But now, reflecting on it, he realized he had had nothing to worry about. He was fine. He could take care of himself. He knew that. But even if he wasn’t, even if he couldn’t, those six people would always have his back, just as he would always have theirs.

Sizhui loved his family. He adored his friends. And even if, sometimes, they could be a little much, he was thankful for these six people. Six people who would be there for him. To rescue him, to tend to any injury, or to relieve any worry.

He smiled to himself as he tucked himself into his bed. He wasn’t alone. He would never be alone. And for that, he could only be grateful.

#untamed fall fest #lan sizhui #junior quartet #lan jingyi #jin ling #ouyang zizhen #cql #the untamed #mdzs

[justathoughtfulangel]

The One That Got Away (Draco Malfoy Mini Series, Part Two)

Hellllooooo! Here is the second part of my Draco Malfoy Mini Series, The One. If you’d like to see more details about the series as a whole and a summary of this part or the parts to come, you can do so here. If you’d like to read more about my OC, Amara Grimaldi, you can do so here.

PLEASE read part one, The One Who was Lost, before you read this one. You can find it here. 

Word count: 13, 254 (literally twice as long as part one, YIKES)

Please don’t hesitate to message me if you have any questions/comments/concerns or if you’d like to be tagged whenever I post a new part :) 

Whenever you see “~~~”, I’m transitioning to a different scene. If you see “~” instead, we’re in the same scene but different characters are being shown. 

If you have a hard time following the scenes, please use this scenes list as a resource.

Happy Reading! 

Amara Grimaldi stood outside her home, wanting to take it in one last time. Everything was the same. The fountain flowed beautifully, birds chirped happily in the mornings, and her father, strong and unwavering, was always there to welcome her. 

Ambrosi Grimaldi had watched his daughter grow in this house. It was here she discovered her passion for potion-brewing. It was here she took her first steps. It was here where he and his Lucianna had brought her after she was born. Grimaldi Manor is and always will be her home. 

“I’ll see you at the wedding in a few days, Daddy.” Ambrosi smiled as much as he could and held his daughter close. Both of them knew the dangers they were in. Yet, if only for a moment, they were safe with each other. 

Miles away, Harry Potter watched his cousin, aunt, and uncle drive away forever. Elsewhere, Ron Weasley stared out to the horizon, watching the setting sun. Meanwhile, Hermione Granger erased the memories of her parents, walking away from her home with just a small bag in her hand... 

~~~

Amara had been braiding Gabrielle Delacour’s hair when she heard the unmistakable sound of someone apparating. “Excusez-moi, ma petite cherie.” Gabrielle nodded and smiled at Amara. “Merci beaucoup! Je peux finir seule, Amara.” Amara smiled back warmly, ducking to kiss the top of Gabrielle’s head before descending down the long, winding stairs of the Burrow.

~

“Herein is set forth the last will and testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore…” Minister Scrimgeour released the parchment, letting it float near him as he read from it. “First, to Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, a device of my own making, in hope that when things seem most dark, it will show him the light.” Ron reached out hesitantly to take the Deluminator and clicked it once. Two orbs of light from the nearby lamps floated into it, and then returned once he clicked it again. 

Amara smiled softly as Ron mumbled, “Wicked!” under his breath. Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow, but he continued. “To Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard in hopes that she finds it entertaining and instructive.” Hermione took the book, flipping through its pages once. Ron babbled about the stories in the book while Harry and Hermione looked baffled. Amara assumed Scrimgeour was getting impatient, and he was. “To Amara Lucianna Grimaldi, I leave my copy of Hogwarts: A History, in hopes that she finds solace in the knowledge it provides.” 

Amara took the book gingerly. The book was immensely fragile with age and she took great care in opening the cover. Its contents were very different from the copy Amara owned; Dumbledore’s copy was certainly an earlier edition, perhaps one of the first to be written. “Lastly, to Harry James Potter, I leave him the Golden Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch game at Hogwarts as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.” Amara’s head snapped up from the book. She shared a look with Hermione as Harry reached out to accept the Snitch. Yet, when his fingers grasped the cool metal, nothing happened.

Amara was expecting Scrimgeour to bid them goodbye but found he had more to read. “Dumbledore has left you a second bequest, Mr. Potter, the sword of Gryffindor. However, the sword was not Dumbledore’s to give away. It belongs to-” 

Hermione quickly interjected, “Harry. It belongs to Harry. He drew the sword from the hat in our second year. It came to him in his time of need.” Amara knew that didn’t make the sword Harry’s, and she would’ve said so had the Minister not beat her to the chase. In any case, Amara was thinking about why Dumbledore left Harry the sword. 

Dumbledore did not do anything without reason. Everything they had received was given to them for a purpose; who received what item was equally important. 

Amara was brought out from her thoughts when Scrimgeour tried to tell Harry to give up. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Mr. Potter, but you can’t fight this war on your own. He’s too strong.” Amara happened to be sitting closest to Harry and she placed her hand on his shoulder supportively. Harry had always known he would either win this war or die trying; he didn’t need a reminder of how difficult things would be. 

~~~

For now, things were brighter. Bill and Fleur had a beautiful wedding. Laughter and smiles could be seen everywhere, despite the dark times. Amara’s hand went to her bag and she clutched it, knowing she had everything should she and her friends have to Disapparate without warning.

From the corner of his eyes, Ambrosi noticed his daughter’s fingers tightening anxiously around the handbag he bought her for her 15th birthday. His hand rested on top of hers gently. “Amara, everything is fine.” Amara took a deep breath and managed to smile up at her father. Worries still plagued her mind and Ambrosi could see them in her eyes, but he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Dance with me, sweetheart.”

This time, Amara beamed genuinely. Hermione happened to be nearby and took her bag from her, gesturing her head towards the dance floor which at the moment was occupied by Luna and her father as well as Fleur and Monsieur Delacour. Amara took her dad’s hand and still found peace in it. 17 years of life and her father’s hand was still the one she turned to for guidance. It was still what she needed to reassure her when everything seemed strange.

Ambrosi held his daughter close and danced with her slowly, fighting the tears welling in his eyes. When Amara noticed them, she very gently wiped one away. “Don’t cry, Dad. We’ll see each other soon.” Ambrosi smiled and kissed his girl’s forehead. “When did you get so big, my dear? I remember when I would waltz around with you in our living room. Now you’re about to run off and save our world. Before I know it, we’ll be at your wedding.” Amara’s life had seemed to drag on in her mind, but it was quite the opposite for her father. He hadn’t realized when she had transformed into a beautiful woman from his adorable little girl. Time had passed too quickly for his liking. 

“I want you to keep this, angel.” Ambrosi’s hand slipped his heavy golden ring from his finger, placing it in her palm. It bore the crest of the Grimaldi family. “I know you have your own, but I want you to have this piece of me when you’re off with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Return it to me the next time you see me.” It was far too big for Amara to wear, so she closed her hand around it. “Thank you, Daddy.” She reached to unclasp the thin chain she always wore. That necklace had one of her mother’s rings hanging from it, and she slid the Grimaldi family ring onto it as well. 

“This way, you and Mumma will always be close to my heart, no matter how far we are.” Ambrosi’s eyes twinkled as he hugged his daughter. “I’m so proud of you. I know your mother would be too. I love you with all my heart, Amara. Remember that, always.” Amara couldn’t find her voice, so she just nodded. Eventually, she was able to speak. “Please stay safe.” Ambrosi smoothed Amara’s hair soothingly and kept his voice calm and reassuring. “I will, dear, I will.”

Before anyone had the chance to say anything else, Kingsley’s Patronus ran right in between Amara and her father, who held her close as it spoke. “Scrimgeour is dead. The Ministry has fallen. They are coming.” Ambrosi gave his daughter one more kiss before letting her go. “Get out of here, Amara. We’ll hold them off.” Death Eaters began Apparating into the tent and Amara frantically looked for Hermione, Ron, and Harry. “I love you, Dad!” 

Ron and Hermione finally reached Amara and Remus shoved Harry to them. Within seconds, they had vanished. 

~

Draco thrummed his fingers against his sleek, mahogany desk. He opened the first drawer to his left, one that he kept locked. Within it was a picture of Draco and Amara from when they were 10, among other memories he wished to treasure alone.

The picture was bright and colorful; Little Amara’s smile shined through her eyes and Little Draco, even then, looked at the camera only momentarily before looking at her. Draco closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, he saw his Amara as she was now: kind, brave, loving, and still beautiful as ever. 

He knew that she was likely at the Weasley wedding. In his cowardice, he was grateful that the Dark Lord didn’t force him to partake in the attack. Draco wouldn’t have been able to stand hurting Amara or those she cared about. He wanted Potter to win. He wanted all of this to be over. 

Just as Draco went to put the picture away, he heard a woman scream downstairs. His first instinct was that the scream came from his mother. Leaving the picture on his desk, Draco Apparated down to his foyer to see his Aunt Bellatrix bleeding from her cheek as his mother hovered over her. Before he could sigh in relief at his mother being safe, he heard his aunt spit out curses and vow to kill every single member of the Order. 

Draco closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. His thoughts found their way to Amara once more. Wherever they were, he hoped that she and her father stayed safe.

Up the stairs and through the door to Draco’s bedroom, Little Draco looked at Little Amara once more, his eyes gleaming with innocence and happiness. Draco hadn’t felt such joy in years, nor did he know if he ever would again.

~~~

A week or so had passed since they had run from the wedding. They had taken shelter at number 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry was exploring the house, and Ron was playing Fur Elise rather badly as Hermione tried to teach him; Amara could hear it even though she was in the kitchen. They had nothing much to do until Kreacher came back with Mundungus Fletcher. 

Amara spent most of her time flipping through Hogwarts: A History, simultaneously looking at her copy and the one Dumbledore left her. She wanted to find the difference between the two, needing to know why Dumbledore left her this copy specifically. There was something hidden in here that he wanted Amara to find. She had already found numerous details that weren’t in her edition, such as more details regarding Slytherin’s thoughts behind making and sealing the Chamber of Secrets or a cup that Helga Hufflepuff created which was likely one of the first utensils ever used in the Great Hall. They must have been edited out with time or deemed irrelevant.

Amara was about to give up for the night before she paused. This page was entirely blank. She knew the Ministry had thoroughly examined each object bestowed to them. Whatever was hidden on this page would not reveal itself by a spell. “Hermione!” Amara wracked her brain as the piano keys stopped ringing immediately and Hermione rushed into the kitchen. “What is it?”

She took a minute to respond, the wheels in her mind churning with determination. “You know the Ministry has searched all of the items Dumbledore left to us in his will?” Amara turned the book to show Ron and Hermione the blank page. “They were looking for enchantments, spells, etc. What if Dumbledore hid something on this page using a non-magical method?” Hermione’s eyes lit up in recognition and summoned a lemon, a knife, and some cotton swabs.

“That’s ingenious, Amara. If Dumbledore has hidden something on this page in a non-magical manner, it would most likely be invisible ink.” Hermione was slicing a lemon just as Harry walked in; Ron leaned over to fill him in quickly in the background. When Amara gently brushed the lemon juice over the page, everyone watched with bated breath. 

Gasping softly, Amara saw the message appearing beneath her fingertips. Noticing how faint it was, Harry quickly cast Lumos, his wand hovering over the page. It wasn’t a message, it was a riddle. Hermione read it aloud as Amara finally moved away. The four of them stood around the table, reading Dumbledore’s handwriting as it gleamed up at them. 

“For one destroyed, false security was the answer. 

He first tried with a memory.

Then, he relied on his grandfather.

He craved excellence, wisdom, and victory.

He had one companion left

When he tried to escape his downfall, he left himself there.

In the end, there was only him.”

Ron groaned in frustration. “If he wanted to hide a message, why did it have to be another puzzle to solve?!” Amara said nothing, still reading and rereading Dumbledore’s message. Harry sighed as well, though he was the one who discerned why. “Dumbledore must have known they would search his things. If he felt the need to hide this specific riddle, it must be crucial information Dumbledore didn’t want in the wrong hands.” 

They were interrupted with the resonating crack of Apparation, and Amara slammed the book closed, the words imprinted on her mind. Kreacher and Dobby appeared, dragging Mundungus Fletcher along. “Dobby?!” Dobby began explaining why he tagged along as everyone in the room cornered Mundungus. “Look, I panicked that night, alright’?! Could I help it if Mad-Eye fell off his broom?” Hermione dangled the locket in front of him as Harry shut him up quickly. “While you were here, did you steal a locket- don’t deny it!- that looked like that one? What did you do with it?”

“Why, was it valuable?” He had quite the audacity to ask such a question. “Do you still have it?” Amara chimed in, while Ron scoffed. “He’s probably worried he didn’t get enough money for it.” This time, Mundungus had the sense to look remorseful. “Bleedin’ gave it away, didn’t I? I was scuffling ‘round Diagon Alley when some Ministry hag asked to see me license. Said she had a mind to turn me in, ‘til she took a shine to my locket.” 

“Who was she? This woman. What did she look like?” Mundungus began to respond once more until his eyes fell to an old copy of the Daily Prophet. “Well, that’s her right there. Bleedin’ bow and all!” 

Amara grabbed the paper to set it on the table, and the four of them shared a look. Though the image was black and white, Amara could see the sickening pink of her suit. “Umbridge.”

~~~

The clothes of Marietta Edgecombe’s mother, Madame Edgecombe, were beginning to loosen around Amara’s body while Albert Runcorn’s face bubbled and morphed back into Harry’s. Realizing they had no time to waste, Amara stunned Umbridge and Hermione ripped the locket from her neck. Ron took Mary Cattermole along with them and they sprinted into the elevator before the Dementors got too close. 

Harry cast the Patronus charm and they were immediately off. By then, the effects of the Polyjuice Potion had worn off for everyone besides Ron, and Amara was sure she’d seen a camera flash behind them. Ron spoke to Mary Cattermole, instructing her to take the kids and run. As she pulled her ‘husband’ into a kiss, Ron began morphing back into himself. He looked rather embarrassed, even more so when the real Reginald Cattermole saw his wife kissing a stranger.

“Long story, sorry!” They had no time to indulge this awkward moment. Yaxley shot a spell aimed at Harry, and Hermione noticed that the grates to the fireplaces were slamming down one by one. The four of them managed to enter one, but not before Yaxley got a hold of Ron’s arm. 

When Amara landed on her feet, she saw they had not returned to Grimmauld Place but had landed in some forest instead. Gasping softly as she saw Ron’s torn shoulder joint, Amara immediately opened her bag and dug around for Dittany. She threw the bottle to Hermione and tried to catch her breath. “Hermione, I thought-” 

Hermione was soothing a whimpering Ron, trying to administer the searing droplets of Dittany. “Yaxley must have gotten ahold of Ron, Harry. It wasn’t safe for us there anymore.” Hermione nodded, wiping away some tears. “I had to get us out of there, but Ron got splinched.” Amara’s eyes softened and Harry looked like he was at a loss for words. She patted Harry’s shoulder gently. “The tent is in my bag, Harry. Set it up, please? I’ll do the enchantments.”

Harry was frozen for a few moments. So many people had gotten hurt for him. How many more would before this ended? Amara’s gentle hand to his shoulder broke him from his daze, and he went to begin building the tent. 

Amara glanced back at her friends once more, worry flitting through her eyes. “Repello Muggletom, Salvio Hexia, Muffliato Maxima….”

~~~

Ambrosi sighed concernedly, setting the paper down. Amara was pictured, clear as day, running from numerous Ministry officials who fired various spells at her. When he turned the page, he saw his daughter’s face on a Wanted poster. 

Artemis had come to settle next to him, hooting sadly and nudging Amara’s picture with her talons.  Ambrosi brought his hand up to pet her gently and she nibbled on his finger affectionately in return. He was doing his best to keep his promise to Amara, but it was immensely difficult to stay safe. While Grimaldi Manor was protected, Ambrosi wouldn’t be should he have to leave for any mission for the Order. 

He had lost his beloved wife because of this darkness; he hoped and prayed for his Amara’s safety every day. She would not lose him because of this War, he would make sure of it. 

~~~

Amara was pacing around the perimeter of their safe haven, her arms hugging a black shawl to her body. From her neck dangled the two rings on a small chain, clinking softly as she walked. As she got closer to the tent, she overheard Harry snapping at Hermione for not doing enough for Ron. Amara, too, had been working on brewing a healing potion, but it was proving to be very difficult with the limited number of ingredients she brought with her.

Amara stood in front of Harry, stretching out her hand. “Take it off. The Horcrux.” Harry tugged the locket from his neck aggressively, immediately letting out a loud sigh of relief. “Better?” Harry nodded silently, and Amara clasped it around her neck. “We’ll wear it in turns.” 

From inside the tent, Ron’s radio crackled, and Lee Jordan’s voice rang out clearly. The locket now hung right next to Ambrosi’s ring, chittering maliciously as always. As night fell, Harry, Hermione, and Amara headed into the tent. Amara had made her way into the kitchen, not quite thinking of anything but dinner. Deciding on some quick spaghetti, Amara got a pot of water boiling and dug around her bag for a jar of sauce. 

“And now for some sobering news. We’ve just received word that our beloved friend, Nectar, has been murdered by Death Eaters just miles away from his home. Let’s all have a moment of silence in his memory.” The jar of pasta sauce fell from Amara’s fingers and crashed to the floor. Hermione rushed over to her but faltered slightly. Amara’s face was entirely expressionless.

No one spoke or moved for the next minute. The crackle from Ron’s radio broke the silence. “To those that knew him, Nectar was a benevolent man, an unwavering father, and a strong friend. He died a hero. In Nectar’s honor, the password for our next broadcast will be Grimaldi. Stay safe everyone, Potterwatch will be back as soon as possible.” Amara walked over the broken glass and clung to her shawl, exiting the tent numbly. 

Ron came out from the bedroom, his eyes wet with tears and one trailing down his face. Hermione went over to him and hugged him close, both of them sobbing silently. Harry felt his heart shattering. Of all of them, he could understand Amara’s pain best. Ambrosi was beloved by all. He was one of the few men he trusted dearly, possibly the one he trusted most after Sirius and Remus. 

Amara stood outside the tent, the snow falling around her, contrasting harshly against her black shawl. Silent tears were streaming down her face. The cold air was thinning around her, suffocating her until she couldn’t breathe. Her knees gave way from her shock just as Harry came out, quickly catching her. When she felt Harry’s arms around her, something in Amara snapped. 

She let out a wail, one that could have been heard for miles had they not put up a sound barrier. That wail gave way to broken, choked sobs as Amara clung to Harry. The cold around them couldn’t compare to the shattering grief inside her, threatening to consume her at any second. 

Inside the tent, Hemione placed a hand over her mouth and Ron closed his eyes in pain when they heard Amara’s scream. Harry didn’t know what to say or do besides holding her. He knew this pain, and in this pain, no one could say anything to make it better. Things would be dark until something -anything- gives you a glimmer of hope. Amara had been there for him the most after Sirius’s death, and he would do the same.

~

Bellatrix’s cackles rang through the foyer of Malfoy Manor. Draco gritted his teeth, not interested in another gleeful rant about which Order member or muggleborn family she had killed now. His fingers clutched his mug of tea, burning with the heat encircling them. 

“I told you, Cissy! I told you I would kill that blood-traitor!” Draco managed to take a sip, the hot tea scalding his throat. He stood, about to make his way to his bedroom for the night. “That Ambrosi Grimaldi got what was coming to him.” 

Draco’s mug hit the floor, shattering into tiny shards. The tea swam across the wooden floor. Draco said nothing. He couldn’t. He didn’t trust his voice, nor his ears in this moment. 

In her cheerful reverie, his aunt ignored it completely. Narcissa’s eyes immediately shot to Draco. Lucius, too, hardened as he stood, unreadable as always. Somehow, Draco got his feet to move. The winding staircase to the bedrooms seemed even longer to Draco now, his feet dragging with effort as he moved. 

While Bellatrix danced around the room, her sister’s eyes followed Draco as he trudged upstairs. She wanted to follow him but thought otherwise when she heard Draco’s door slam shut. 

The Muffliato cast over his bedroom would have stifled his scream had he not gone out to his balcony. It rang out across the immaculate lawns, frightening the peacocks roaming around. He lost the man who cared for him just as Amara did. Amara… 

Swallowing hard, Draco closed his eyes, letting himself feel the hot tears streaming down his face. How much more would she have to lose? How much more was this War going to take from them all?

~~~

Amara had been in a daze these past few days. They weren’t making much progress with the search, nor were they any closer to deciphering Dumbledore’s riddle. She couldn’t sleep. Should her eyes droop shut for even just a few minutes, the Potterwatch broadcast played in her mind like a reel on replay. 

Hermione’s rhythmic snipping of scissors was nearly silent as she attempted to give Harry a haircut. Harry found it entirely unnecessary; it was just something to pass the time. His mind was elsewhere: the night of Bill and Fleur’s wedding when he last spoke to Ambrosi. He found it more important than ever to remember these words.

The wedding had transitioned into the reception seamlessly. Harry found himself surrounded by many red-headed Weasleys and members of the Order, the atmosphere high with celebrations. He was sitting at a table alone when he was joined by Ambrosi who put a fatherly hand on his shoulder. 

Ambrosi knew they would be leaving tomorrow; before he went to dance with his daughter, he wanted to come talk to Harry. The war brewing and the lives lost had a devastating impact on Harry. Ambrosi felt the responsibility of lightening his burden as much as he could. “Harry… It can be very easy to blame ourselves for grievances in life, especially when we are there to witness them. For years, even before I knew of Sirius’s innocence and Pettigrew’s deceptions, I did not blame Sirius for the death of Lucianna... I blamed myself. I believed I should have been the one to go to Godric’s Hollow that night in her stead.” Harry swallowed softly, and Ambrosi’s eyes gleamed softly with his wisdom and kindness. It was the same look Amara often had in her eyes. She was more like her father than she knew. 

“In some ways, that feeling has never gone away. And yet… When I think of our world now, I think of the other eleven people who were murdered that night and the countless lives being lost because of the darkness in our world. People leave this world and new souls are created every second. Our proximity to death doesn’t make death our fault.” Ambrosi’s voice never wavered. It was strong and reassuring, and Harry absorbed the words as much as he could. “This war has been building for a long time. Lives have been lost, and unfortunately, we’ll lose others we love as well. Remember who you are, Harry. Not what is happening around you, not what may happen. Remember who you are, and this war will not be able to steal you away from yourself.” 

“Oh my God!” As the scissors clattered to the floor, Harry was pulled away from his thoughts. Hermione rushed to the kitchen, digging through her bag and pulling out one of her many books. Harry followed her quickly, ignoring the incessant crackling of Ron’s radio. Amara stepped into the tent, shivering from the cold outside. Her emotional numbness dissipated slightly when she took in the excitement exuding from Hermione. “The sword of Gryffindor… it’s goblin-made!” Amara’s eyes widened and she went to join Hermione at the table. “That’s amazing news!” 

Harry looked at the two of them in bewilderment, completely not understanding why the sword being goblin-made had anything to do with the sudden cheer (and also because this was the first time he’d seen light in Amara’s eyes in weeks). Hermione exhaled in exhilaration and spoke, “You’ve already destroyed a Horcrux, haven’t you? Tom Riddle’s diary.” 

“With a Basilisk’s fang! Don’t tell me you and Amara have one of those in your bloody little bags.” Harry reached across the table to see the book Hermione was flipping through. “You don’t understand. The blade of the sword does not rust or dull over time... It only takes in what makes it stronger.” A glimmer of understanding shined in Harry’s eyes. “The sword is impregnated with Basilisk venom. Which is why…”

“Why Dumbledore left it to me in his will! You are brilliant, Hermione, truly.” Hermione babbled in her exhilaration, humbly disregarding Harry’s compliment. “There’s only one problem, of course.” Before Harry could continue, the lights in the tent suddenly switched off, plunging them into momentary darkness. When they came on again, Ron was standing to their immediate left, the Deluminator clenched harshly in his fist. “The sword was stolen.” 

Amara was the first to recognize Ron’s anger. “Ron… the Horcrux. Have you been wearing it all day?” He completely ignored her, plundering on as his emotions overruled his mind. “Yeah, I’m still here. But you two carry on. Don’t let me spoil all the fun.” His tone made the girls blanch with worry. “What’s wrong?” Ron scoffed as if Harry’s question was utterly ludicrous. 

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Not according to you, anyway.” Harry’s jaw began to set, hardening with irritation. “Look, if you’ve got something to say, don’t be shy. Spit it out.” The argument escalated; Ron was seething internally, and it was only a matter of time before his anger bubbled over like lava and burned those near him. “Alright, I’ll spit it out. But don’t expect me to be grateful now that there’s another damn thing we’ve got to find.” 

“I thought you knew what you signed up for.” Harry’s eyes were wide, not used to this kind of behavior from Ron. This wasn’t like him at all. “Yeah, I thought I did too.” Harry began to get up and approached Ron, ignoring Amara’s hand as she reached out to grab his wrist and hold him back. “Well then, I’m sorry, but I don’t quite understand. What part of this isn’t living up to your expectations? I mean, did you think we were gonna be staying in a 5-star hotel? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Did you think you’d be back with your mum by Christmas?” 

“I just thought, after all this time, we would have actually achieved something. I thought you knew what you were doing! I thought Dumbledore would’ve told you something worthwhile.” Hermione came to stand next to Ron, not knowing how to help. Ideas on how to deescalate the situation ran through Amara’s mind, but she wasn’t confident that anything would work at this point. “I told you everything Dumbledore told me, and in case you haven’t noticed, we have found a Horcrux already.”

“Yeah, and we’re as close to getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them, aren’t we?” Hermione reached for the Horcrux, begging him to take it off. “Ron, please... You wouldn’t be saying any of this if you hadn’t been wearing it all day.” He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Do you know why I listen to that radio every night? I listen so I don’t hear Ginny’s name. Or Fred, or George, or my mum.”

“You think I’m not listening to? You think I don’t know how it feels?” “No, you DON’T know how it feels! Your parents are dead; you have no family.” The scathing words thundered around the four as Harry jumped forward, wanting to expel his anger but unable to hurt his best friend. “Fine, then go! Go then!” Ron tugged the Horcrux off furiously, not even faltering when he saw Hermione’s tears. 

Amara’s heart panged, the cracks in it searing her painfully. “And you? Are you coming or you staying?” Hermione looked at Ron and then to Harry and Amara. She couldn’t say anything, but Amara nodded to her softly. Ron would need her with him; it was far too dangerous for him to leave alone, and it wouldn’t be right to leave Harry alone either. 

Hermione wordlessly agreed, and Amara knew she would bring Ron back as soon as she could. Dumping some of her books onto the table, she grabbed her bag with the tears streaming down her face. Harry understood though he couldn’t honestly say he didn’t feel betrayed. Ambrosi’s words came to his mind as they Disapparated. Remember who you are, Harry. Not what is happening around you, not what may happen. Remember who you are, and this war will not be able to steal you away from yourself.

~~~

Harry came to join Amara outside. She was sitting with her back against a tree, her eyes closed as she breathed in the frosty, winter air. When she heard the scuffle of Harry sitting beside her, Amara didn’t open her eyes but rather just leaned to rest her head against his shoulder and made sure her blanket covered him as well. He hummed softly in contentment, asking her what she was thinking about. 

“I was remembering a trip I took with my father and Draco one winter. His parents were taking a vacation and Draco hated being left behind, so he came to stay with us. We would spend the day skiing or flying or building castles of snow… My dad would turn in around an hour or so before we did, and we’d sit by a fireplace, reading together or just talking.” Harry’s arm came around Amara’s shoulder and he smiled softly. That didn’t sound like the Malfoy he knew, but he could hear a smile in Amara’s voice. She truly cherished these memories… she truly cherished him.

“You love him.” Harry didn’t ask a question. He knew, just as she did. “Yes, I love him. Even if he may not show that he loves me too.” They sat together in comfortable silence. A few birds chirped around them and a soft wind blew through the grand conifers. Harry and Amara were both hurting, but just for these silent moments, their pain could be pushed aside. 

~~~

As Amara woke the next morning, the day felt brighter. There seemed to be a palpable hum of energy in the air, something that had all but vanished in the last few months. Harry was nowhere in sight, but Amara heard people talking outside. Shooting out of bed immediately, she grabbed her cardigan and rushed out of the tent, worry clearly etched onto her face. Her feet faltered once she made it out of the mouth of the tent; her features lit up with relief.

Hermione rushed to Amara and threw her arms around her. Harry was smiling for the first time in a while. From the corner of her eyes, Amara saw the Sword of Gryffindor in Ron’s hand, the morning sun reflecting off of the blade and shining onto the destroyed locket in his other hand. “You found it! Where?” Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, both of them remembering last night’s events and Hermione sighed softly as she thought of the locket’s torturous words to Ron. 

The quartet headed into the warm tent and Amara began making some tea as she was brought up to speed with the events. The searingly harsh Horcrux was not a surprise to Amara; she remembered all too clearly how the Horcrux in Tom Riddle’s diary had wanted to kill Harry. It made perfect sense, actually. Twisted, dark souls could only bring pain and destruction. 

Even so, the energy didn’t dissipate from around the four friends. There was a shining sense of hope when they were reunited. No one forgot at how quickly that hope could be torn away from them, but they all clung on to it anyhow. 

When Amara gave Hermione her tea, she handed something to Amara in return: Dumbledore’s copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Amara flipped to the page that was marked, her fingers brushing against the inscription that followed “The Tale of the Three Brothers.” Harry peered over Amara’s shoulder curiously while the wheels in Amara’s mind churned away. Surely this wasn’t a rune she had seen before. 

“I’ve seen that… Xenophilius Lovegood was wearing that symbol at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.” Amara’s eyebrows shot up as she experienced a stifled epiphany. She had an idea about what the symbol could mean, but voicing her idea was not the best way to go about this, not when Ron’s motive for leaving was based on more things they had to find. She would wait for Luna’s father to confirm or deny her suspicions before she brought this up. “We need to go see him.”

~~~

“That treacherous little… Is there no one we can trust?!” Ron’s agitation spilled from his mouth and echoed against the trees surrounding them. “They took Luna, Ron. He was desperate.” Harry was angered as well, but not at Xenophilius. He was angry with himself. The thoughts he often tried to dispel spun around in his head again. He did not want more people to get hurt for him. Before Harry could recall Ambrosi’s words and ground himself, Hermione froze in his peripheral vision. 

Just a few feet from them, Snatchers lounged against the trees, looking for their next targets lazily. “Well don’t hang about, snatch ‘em!” Amara had to take Hermione’s hand and drag her out of her shock. In his shock, Ron stumbled and ran as fast as he could. Even as they began to run, Amara knew they would not make it away safely; they could not Disapparate away together, they wouldn’t get close enough. 

As discreetly as she could, Amara sent a Stinging Jinx in Harry’s direction. His cry of pain was muffled by the bracken covered ground as he tripped. Hermione, now completely back to her senses, grabbed Harry’s glasses and stuffed them into her bag. Harry’s glasses were far too recognizable. At the same time, Amara took up some mud and caked it onto her neck and cheek. She knew it wouldn’t be enough. Amara Grimaldi’s face was next to Harry’s on the Wanted posters. 

Wracking her brain for whatever she could do in the limited amount of time they had, Amara thought of only one spell: Crinus Muto. It was an exceedingly difficult spell, one of the last she had learned from Professor McGonagall. If performed incorrectly, the results would be disastrous. 

Yet, by some stroke of luck (or perhaps by the skill Amara had), she was no longer recognizable. Her long, mahogany locks had transformed into short strands of blonde silk. The Snatchers had thankfully been unable to see Amara’s transformation and were stupid enough to assume that one member of the group got away. No matter. There were four more prizes to collect.

Four of the Snatchers grabbed each of the four friends while the leader sauntered around them arrogantly. He questioned them individually, trying to see which would crack first. Hermione chose to say she was Penelope Clearwater, and Ron said he was Barney Weasley. Amara’s lie had come to her quickly: Marietta Edgecombe, the pureblood daughter of Madame Edgecombe whom she had impersonated a few weeks ago. 

Her breath caught in her throat when the leader, Scabior, paused in front of Harry. His eyes lingered on Harry’s forehead for much longer than necessary. “Change of plans… we’re not taking this lot to the Ministry.” 

~

The days were passing. Each moment suffocated Draco more and more. His thoughts never strayed too far from Amara. Was she safe? What was she doing? When would he see her again? When could she be allowed to properly grieve? When would this all end? Would the two of them be able to walk away from this alive?

Narcissa paused at Draco’s door, observing as Draco’s shoulders slumped forward. Long gone was the laughter that warmed this household. Long gone was the light in his eyes. “Draco…” Her heart broke even further when her son looked into her eyes. Every inch of her was aching to grab her child and shield him from the horrors of this life, an instinct she had been attempting to ignore for years now. 

“Yes, Mother?” His voice echoed his desolation. Draco had lost the capacity to feel anything. “Your Aunt Bellatrix is calling you. We believe you can identify some traitors.” Even before she came to get her son, Narcissa knew that these were no traitors. Traitors to the Dark Lord, perhaps, but not traitors to the good in the world. Amara had transfigured herself physically, which was a remarkable feat in itself, given that she was not a Metamorphagus. Human transfiguration spells were known to be exceedingly difficult and even dangerous to maintain. Amara could not, however, transfigure the mannerisms ingrained into her. How she carried herself. Her facial expressions. The way she pressed the pad of her thumb to her index finger when she lied, a movement so small you’d have to look for it to see it. Narcissa could see it was her almost immediately.

Draco stood and passed his mother. His lifelessness had scared him once, too, but now it was just who he was. It was who he had to become since he rejected Amara in the hospital wing months ago. Narcissa did not have time to warn her son; their house was no longer safe, their walls had ears. His descent down the winding staircase was not rushed. A memory flitted through his mind: Amara at age eight, daring Draco to slide down the banister. Would they ever know such joy again?

“Ah, Draco! So good of you to join us.” Draco looked up at the sound of her voice just out of habit. When he did, his feet faltered. He prayed it wasn’t noticeable. His eyes fell on Granger and Weasley, and then to the blonde girl standing next to them, mud drying on her neck and left cheek, obscuring her features. Draco’s confusion lasted only a fraction of a second. His aunt’s next words cleared them up immediately. 

The Snatchers had not been dismissed. Bellatrix enjoyed an audience. Whether that audience would witness the Dark Lord’s reward to the family or if they would witness a murder by her hands was irrelevant. “I have reason to believe that the imp I am holding is none other than the chosen one himself.” The biting sarcasm tore through her voice, but he no longer heard anything. Noises muted in the background. If this was Potter, Granger, and Weasley… then the blonde girl was Amara. There was no other option. 

Bellatrix tugged on Harry’s hair, revealing the scar which stretched across his forehead. “Well?” She looked at Draco expectantly, growing frustrated when his answer was weak. “I can’t be sure.” Lucius had been listening silently up until this point. His loyalties had never externally wavered, but he, too, wanted this war over. “Look closely, son. If we are the ones to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, all will be forgiven. All will be as it was, do you understand?” Draco swallowed hard and took a cautious step forward. 

“Don’t be shy, sweetie. Come over.” Bellatrix pulled Draco by the arm gently, bringing him to his knees in front of Harry. “If this isn’t who we think it is, Draco, and we call him, he’ll kill us all. We need to be absolutely sure.” 

Draco was sure. “What’s wrong with his face?” The scar didn’t give him away, his eyes did. Draco had glared into them enough times to know what they looked like. “Yes, what is wrong with his face?” Bellatrix echoed the question. “He came to us like that. Something he picked up in the forest, I reckon.”

Harry was not entirely surprised that Draco had not given him away. He was slowly starting to see the Draco his friend loved. He was there, hiding underneath the surface, just as Amara always said. “Or ran into a Stinging Jinx.” Amara’s heart thudded in panic. Hermione glanced at Amara anxiously, but she held her ground as Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed on her. Narcissa clutched Lucius’s arm, frightened for the girl whom she loved like a daughter. She was unable to protect her, just as she was unable to protect Draco. “Give me her wand, I want to see what her last spell was.”

A pleased, evil giggle came from Bellatrix and she continued to step towards Amara. “Got you.” She paused then, her glee molding into fear. “What’s that?” Bellatrix’s voice was no more than a whisper. Her eyes gestured toward the Sword of Gryffindor which was being held by a Snatcher. “Where did you get that from?” Scabior seemed a bit bored, having seen many such encounters. “It was in her bag when we searched her.” He took the sword and pointed it at Amara. “Reckon it’s mine now.” 

The grin on Scabior’s face was wrenched away with Bellatrix’s spell, casting him back towards the stairwell and the Sword flew into her hand. “Get out!” Exuding a whip from the tip of her wand, Bellatrix attacked the other Snatchers, beating them until they scrambled away. Her eyes came to narrow on Amara. “Cissy, put the boys and the mudblood in the cellar.” Ron, Harry, and Hermione were pulled away by Narcissa and then pulled down the stairs by Pettigrew. Their screams and protests fell on deaf ears. 

Amara’s face had not changed, even when she had a very good idea of what was coming. “I want to have a little conversation with this one.” Bellatrix wasted no time with theatrics now. She made her way to Amara very quickly, pausing only when the necklace Amara wore gleamed in the light. Amara inhaled sharply, and her focus slipped. Her magic could no longer maintain the disguise. Even if it did, it would have been meaningless. The necklace held her father’s ring; the crest of the Grimaldi family was all too recognizable.

When Harry and Ron were tossed to the dungeon floor, they heard Bellatrix’s cackle. It was joyful once again. She had found another motivation for torturing Amara, not that she needed convincing. Amara’s blonde hair reverted to its natural state, and Bellatrix took a handful, using it to throw the girl to the ground. Despite her pain, Amara clenched her jaw shut, refusing to scream or speak. She would not give this murderer any form of satisfaction. “I had hoped to kill you the same day I killed your father, but I suppose that can be taken care of now.” In her taunting, Bellatrix did not see that Narcissa and Lucius had to restrain Draco. Attacking his aunt would only bring more pain to Amara, and a part of Draco knew that. How could he be expected to watch the girl he loved -he had stopped denying it long ago- be torn apart? 

“How brave. Your father was brave too. But bravery doesn’t save anyone, now does it?” Something in Amara snapped. Perhaps it was foolish, she knew it would only invite more torture for her. She stood and grabbed Bellatrix’s wand arm, twisting it behind her back. “Don’t say another word about my father.” In their surprise at Amara’s actions, Draco was nearly able to wrench out of his parents’ arms. They caught him again before he could help her. Bellatrix freed her arm from Amara’s grip and backhanded her with enough force to send her flying to the ground once more.

Amara did not show her pain; her will was no match for the Cruciatus curse, however. Bellatrix’s bloodlust and anger fueled the spell. Amara’s body convulsed as the spell seared through her brain, and she could no longer hold back the screams of agony. It took all of Narcissa and Lucius’s strength to keep Draco restrained, and Amara’s screams were echoed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the cellars. “Not so brave now, Grimaldi?” The spell intensified for a moment before it relented. 

Amara gasped, trying to prepare herself for more pain. The cries of her friends grew louder, and it took every ounce of control Draco had to not harm his parents and rush over to Amara. Bellatrix tucked her wand away and grabbed her dagger, harshly flipping Amara over and laying over her. “That sword is meant to be in my vault at Gringotts. How did you get it? What else did you and your friends take from my vault?!” Her voice started out as a whisper and crescendoed to a scream. 

Draco felt unbelievably useless. In all the years Draco had known Amara, he had never heard her sound so broken. “I didn’t take anything. Please… we found it.” He could not stand this. Narcissa looked at her son once he slumped in her arms, sharing a look with her husband as well. Watching Amara writhe in agony was torture for them too. “I don’t believe you.” As silently as he could, Draco took the wands of the quartet and slunk off to the dungeons. His face contorted with pain as Amara’s screams echoed throughout the foyer and down the stairs to the dungeons. It only took seconds to stun Pettigrew and Draco faltered when he saw Dobby. “Dobby?” Luna and Ollivander were gone, to Draco’s relief. The cries were unbearable for all those who loved Amara. It didn’t seem possible, but they got even louder. 

Draco had tears in his eyes, as did Hermione. Harry did not fail to notice them. The five worked on a plan to get them back upstairs and safely away with Amara. Draco had to sneak back upstairs first, leaving the wands with their rightful owners. Dobby Apparated them up to the top of the stairs. Amara lay on the floor. Her blood pooled out of her forearm; the words ‘blood traitor’ were etched into her skin. Bellatrix kicked her once more in anger and questioned Griphook about who could have possibly entered her vault. 

Silent tears streamed from Amara’s eyes. The tears could have been from the assault she had endured, but she didn’t think so. Her heart thudded painfully when she saw Draco’s eyes, broken and helpless as he looked at her. “Liar!” The dagger that had torn through the skin on Amara’s forearm had grazed Griphook’s cheek. Bellatrix was not going to get any substantial answers from him because they had never broken into her vault. “Consider yourself lucky, goblin. The same won’t be said for this one.” 

Amara did not have the energy to defend herself. Not anymore. Bellatrix was slightly disappointed. Having her victims struggle and scream was part of the fun. Just then, Amara’s friends ran from the shadows and attacked. Draco was bound by his love for his family as much as he was for his love for Amara. He pretended to fight against Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Should he concede too easily, his aunt would see and would kill Amara so much faster.

As soon as they came into sight, Bellatrix pulled Amara up to her feet. “Stop!” Hermione, Harry, and Ron faltered when they saw Amara. Draco bit down on his tongue so hard he drew blood. “Drop your wands” The dagger pressed against Amara’s throat. One slice and she would be gone. “I said drop them!” They had no choice but to obey. “Draco, pick them up, now!” Draco picked them up without hesitation, knowing well that he would return them as soon as he could. 

“Well well well… look what we have here! It’s Harry Potter! He’s all bright and shiny and new… just in time for the Dark Lord!” Amara whimpered softly, and Draco had to look away. This was worse than any of his nightmares. “Call him.” Amara’s life was at the mercy of his deranged aunt, and he did not have the strength to watch. Her screams and his sheer helplessness would be etched into him forever, just like the cruel words would be on her. “Call him!” 

Before Lucius could begin calling Lord Voldemort, the silence in the foyer was met with a squeaking sound. Bellatrix looked up to see Dobby on top of the chandelier, not realizing what he was doing until it was released. In her haste, Bellatrix shoved Amara away from her as she dove backward. Hermione caught her and in the chaos, Harry tugged the wands away from Draco who didn’t put up much of a fight.

“You stupid elf! You could’ve killed me!” Griphook had joined their little group and Hermione held Amara upright. It was taking all of Amara’s strength to stand. “Dobby never meant to kill. Dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure.” Narcissa swirled her wand around as if to cast a spell, though her movement made it only too easy for Dobby to disarm her. 

“How dare you take a witch’s wand? How dare you defy your masters?!” Bellatrix’s screaming did not affect Dobby. The only one terrified was Amara. Her voice would haunt Amara’s dreams just as Amara’s suffering would haunt Draco. “Dobby has no master. Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!” They all reached for Dobby and he began to Disapparate just Bellatrix threw the dagger towards the group. Draco’s blood ran cold when he saw the dagger disappear along with them.

~~~

Dobby’s death had shaken all of them to the core. The four spent as much time together as they could, planning and recuperating. Amara spent much time mulling over the riddle Dumbledore left her. There wasn’t much else for her to do. She and Harry would remain hidden with Griphook when they broke into Gringotts. It was certain that Bellatrix was terrified of something else being taken from her vault… they just don’t know what it was. 

Hermione stood at the doorway of the guest room where Amara was, her hand hesitating above the doorknob. She was not going to have her impersonate the woman that killed her father and tortured her, Hermione would do it instead. “Harry! Ron! Hermione!” Amara’s voice rang through the cottage. Her friends burst through the door without wasting another moment. “What happened?” 

Amara was busy scribbling away on some spare parchment. Dumbledore’s riddle finally made sense. “I figured out what the riddle means!” Amara laid the riddle and her incomplete notes side by side. “For one destroyed, false security was the answer. He first tried with a memory.” Amara shook her head incredulously, not understanding why it took her so long to figure this out. “The riddle gives us clues to his Horcruxes.” She had to be careful not to say the name. 

“A memory… his diary?” Hermione caught on quickly, relieved. “Then, he relied on his grandfather. Marvolo Gaunt’s ring.” Harry gingerly lifted the book up and Ron noted the next line. “He craved excellence, wisdom, and victory.” This gave them all pause. Amara took a moment to think not of Lord Voldemort, but of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the child with the dark life and past. Hogwarts had been his home. “Hogwarts. Excellence, wisdom, and victory… the traits of the Hogwarts houses. Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor!” 

The four huddled on the bed for another hour, trying to determine what each line meant. “Ron destroyed Slytherin’s locket! But victory… victory could also be a trait of the Hufflepuff house…” Amara was running her mind over what object of the Ravenclaw family could Voldemort have defiled. She was coming up with nothing. “If we know it’s an object of victory, perhaps we’re looking for a trophy… a cup of some kind.” 

By the end of their brainstorming, they had concluded that four Horcruxes remained. One would be linked to Ravenclaw, the other to Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. One was a companion of his… though they were unsure about who this could be. Voldemort had an army of followers; any one of which could be holding a Horcrux for him. 

The last two lines bothered Amara. She believed she understood what they meant. ‘When he tried to escape his downfall, he left himself there.’ Voldemort had gone to kill Harry… A Horcrux was not going to be found in Harry’s old home, he would have already found it when they went to Godric’s Hollow. But what if Harry himself was a Horcrux. Amara didn’t want to entertain the possibility, but her rationality did not allow her to dismiss it. Harry had known for a long time that he may not live through this War; Amara could not be the one to confirm her friend’s death.

~~~

Before they knew it, the quartet was back at Hogwarts. Seeing Neville and all of their friends brought everyone a renewed sense of relief. Quickly, the came up with a plan to find the remaining Horcruxes. Harry explained that the Horcrux they needed to find had something to do with Ravenclaw. The suggestion of the lost diadem was echoed by Luna and Amara was about to leave when students were being summoned to the Great Hall. 

They wouldn’t get away with ignoring the summon. If they tried, it would have brought about much torture. “I have a better idea.” Harry quickly changed into Hogwarts robes as Nigel made a Potterwatch broadcast announcing that the four were at Hogwarts. Amara, Hermione, and Ron were alerting the members of the Order.

The march to the Great Hall felt like a march of prisoners rather than students. Amara swallowed a whimper of pain as she watched. Where was the Hogwarts that was her home? Was it lost forever? 

“Many of you are surely wondering why I have summoned you at this hour. It has come to my attention that earlier this evening, Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmeade.” A murmur rose from the student body. Harry was beginning to twitch with anger. “Now. Should anyone, student or staff, attempt to aid Mr. Potter, they will be punished in a manner consistent with the severity of their transgression. Furthermore…

“Any person found to have knowledge of these events and fails to come forward will be treated as equally guilty.” Snape left the head of the Hall and made his way down the center aisle, his eyes searching. “Now then, if anyone here has any knowledge of Mr. Potter’s movements this evening… I invite them to step forward…. Now.” His feet stopped. His eyes glanced directly at the old members of Dumbledore’s Army. 

Harry could not stand it any longer. He stepped out from the group of Ravenclaw students as the student body gasped in shock. Snape’s eyes narrowed like those of a snake. “It seems, despite your exhaustive defensive strategies, you have a bit of a security problem Headmaster.” The grand golden doors of the Great Hall opened, revealing Amara, Ron, Hermione, and numerous Order members. “I’m afraid it’s quite extensive.” 

Harry blinked for one moment, imagining Dumbledore at the Head of the Great Hall, where he had seen him daily for many years. “How dare you stand where he stood? Tell them how it happened that night! Tell them how you looked him in the eye, a man who TRUSTED YOU, and killed him! Tell them.” Snape brandished his wand, aiming to attack Harry; before he could, Professor McGonagall stood in front of him.

Amara, Ron, Hermione, and the others took a step forward. A few of the members of Dumbledore’s Army stepped away from the crowd of students. Professor McGonagall threw every spell she could at Snape. In his cowardice, Snape Apparated away. A cheer rang out through the Great Hall, and light returned to the flaming lanterns. Before the joy could last very long, however, a cold, shrill voice impregnated everyone’s mind. 

“Harry Potter…” Harry’s eyes glazed over as he stumbled backward onto the stone steps. Two students began screaming, and before anyone could help them, the voice continued. “I know that many of you would want to fight. Some of you may even think that to fight is wise… but this is a folly. Give me Harry Potter. Do this, and none shall be harmed.” Harry’s face was blank. The words were a lie. They all knew it.

“Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched.” The voice of evil rang clearly, compelling obedience from those it tormented. “Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have one hour.” 

~~~

Before the hour was up, Order members worked to protect the castle. Ron and Hermione went down to the Chamber of Secrets to retrieve another Basilisk fang while Amara and Harry split up in search of the Ravenclaw Horcrux. 

Harry was starting in the Ravenclaw common room. If he brought this idea up to Amara first, she would have pointed out what a fruitless endeavor it would be. Instead, Amara found herself in the restricted section of the library. Perhaps there was some clue here.

Pacing through the bookshelves, Amara looked over the titles as swiftly as she could. One the side of one shelf, she found the crest of the Ravenclaw house. She stopped in front of it. Amara had been here numerous times and had never seen it before. 

Suddenly, Dumbledore’s words rang through Amara’s mind. “Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.” Biting her lip anxiously, Amara brushed her fingers against the wings of the eagle on the crest. “I wish to see what you hold.” The silence in the library was deafening. She waited with bated breath until the crest began to turn, slowly embedding itself into the wood. Above her head, a compartment opened. 

Within it was a diary… the last diary of Rowena Ravenclaw. Amara took the book, gingerly opening it while trying to find anything she could on the diadem. Her fingers stopped on the last page. A drawing of the diadem greeted her; below it were the words “to be bestowed upon my daughter, Helena, after my death.” Her eyes widened. The Grey Lady. Taking the diary with her, Amara ran to Ravenclaw tower as fast as she could. 

The hour was up; Death Eaters had begun attacking the protective dome around the school. It was only a matter of time before they would infiltrate the castle. Just as Amara rounded the corner, she ran straight into Harry. “Harry! You need to speak to the Grey Lady! She’ll know the location of the Diadem.” Harry caught her by the shoulders, stabilizing them both. “I already did. It’s in the Room of Requirement.” Her eyes widened with confusion and recognition both.

~

The battle raged on above them. Hermione and Ron, miles below the ground, had destroyed the cup. For a moment, they just looked at each other. The water trickled around them. Their arms came around each other in a loving embrace; their lips met for the first time. Both knew they might die tonight. It didn’t matter. Hermione and Ron had denied their love long enough. Ron took her hand, vowing to not let it go.

~

Amara and Harry rushed up many flights of stairs. Ginny began running towards him. “Ginny! I-” She cut Harry off with a sweet kiss. “I know.” Amara’s steps had faltered for a second but she continued, letting Harry have a moment with Ginny amidst the horrors around them. She swallowed softly, blinking away tears. It was quite possible she would not get to tell Draco she loved him ever again. 

Within minutes, Harry and Amara began searching the Room of Requirement. They split up to cover more ground, and Harry was the first to realize they weren’t alone. Draco, Goyle, and Zabini were ten paces away from him, all three of them pointing their wands at him. “You have something of mine. I’d like it back.” Draco had willingly let Harry snatch the wands from his hands that night, a fact they both knew. “What’s wrong with the one you have?” This conversation was more for the sake of Goyle and Zabini. “It’s my mother’s. It’s powerful… but it doesn’t quite understand me.” 

  Amara found herself deep into the room when she spotted it. Pixies were hiding within the piles of forgotten items and a few flew out when she tried to grab it. She made it back to Harry just as he asked Draco another question. “Why didn’t you tell her? Bellatrix. You knew it was me.” Amara stepped into Draco’s sight just then, and Goyle urged him to stun Harry. Draco did nothing but slightly lower his wand. Harry was reminded of the night in the Astronomy Tower just a year ago. Draco had lowered his wand in the memory of Amara once again.

Draco looked to Amara. The air was thinning around both of them. Suddenly the few steps between them were like a chasm of miles they had to cross to get to each other. Harry just observed the silent moment, noting Draco’s eyes and reactions. He really did love her. He had no choice. He was bound by his family. Without warning, Goyle shot “Stupefy!” at Hermione while Ron disarmed Zabini. Someone -Amara couldn’t see who- cast Avada Kadavra. In her haste to deflect it, the diadem slipped from her fingers; it flew to the top of a heap of junk as the spell ricocheted off of it. 

Ron ran after Goyle and Zabini. Draco and Amara were both frozen for just one more moment before Harry called for her help. She was the first to tear her eyes away. Draco watched her climb the precarious pile before he, too, ran off. Harry grabbed the diadem and tossed it down to Amara who let it fall into Hermione’s waiting hands. Just then, Ron’s screams and a strange light began to fill the grand room. “GOYLE SET THE BLOODY PLACE ON FIRE.” He grabbed Hermione’s hand and pulled her along with him, running for the door. 

This was no ordinary fire; this was Fiendfyre, a dangerous form of dark magic. Harry took Amara’s hand and pulled her along, but the fire had a mind of its own. It found them wherever they ran. Before it could corner them, Harry was able to cast a wall from Aguamenti to protect them. Ron stumbled to the ground and fell against four broomsticks. Before they could make their escape, Harry glanced back to see Draco and Zabini clutching onto a chest for dear life as the fire roared below them. “Harry!” 

Amara’s eyes followed Harry’s and she immediately turned around. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS SHE DOING?” Ron screamed after Amara, but she heard nothing. “We can’t leave them!” Harry tried to reason with Ron, quickly following after Amara. “He’s joking, right?” Amara reached them first and tried to grab Draco’s hand without losing her momentum. His fingers grazed her palm before they came down to clutch the drawer once more. “If we die for them, Amara, I’m gonna kill you!” Harry’s hand grabbed Draco’s and Ron grabbed Zabini. Hermione and Amara led them out as the room began to crumble around them. The six hit the ground hard and Amara stabbed the Diadem, kicking it into the Room of Requirement and letting the fire engulf it.

Amara fell backward as the dark soul within it escaped, encroaching on hers. Draco made it to her before her head hit the ground. The pain in her eyes reminded Draco of the night just a month ago, when he listened to the girl he loved scream as she was tortured. He couldn’t do anything to help her then, but she was with him now. “Amara…” A soft sob escaped Amara’s lips as a tear rolled down Draco’s cheek. They were two sides of the same Galleon; they always had been. Draco kissed her deeply, almost furiously, as if he were trying to make sure she was real and alive. Amara clung to his blazer, her ashen fingers clutching the fabric and holding him close. He pulled away abruptly as his arm began to sting.

Walking away from her was the hardest thing Draco had ever done. He let his fingers brush against her cheek just once before he ran off. Hermione and Harry knew of their love for a long time now, and Ron had chosen to ignore it. He couldn’t any longer. When Amara straightened up, she saw Harry’s eyes glazed over as he fell into another vision.

~~~

The castle was silent and desolate. They had lost so many loved ones. Harry was nowhere to be found. Amara, Ron, and Hermione sat on the crumbling stone stairs. Harry was descending them, his eyes blank. “Harry!” Ron was the first to see him. His voice mellowed when he saw Harry’s expression. “We thought you’d gone to the forest.” 

“I’m going there now.” His voice was determined yet lifeless at the same time. Amara and Hermione knew he had figured it out. “Are you mad?” Ron stood in disbelief, staring at the girls who said nothing. “No. You can’t give yourself up to him.” Silent tears began streaming down Amara’s cheeks and she reached for Hermione’s hand. She, too, nodded. Her lashes were decorated with teardrops that threatened to spill over any moment. “There’s a reason I can hear them. The Horcruxes.”

Amara’s breath caught in her chest and suffocated her as if it was being squeezed by a boa constrictor. “I think I’ve known for a while… and I think Hermione and Amara have too.” Hermione’s tears were no longer silent. “I’ll go with you.” Amara ran forward and threw her arms around Harry. He hugged her tight… his best friend… his sister. “No… kill the snake. Kill the snake and then it’s just him.” Hermione moved to hug him too; Harry and Ron looked at each other with broken eyes. Harry had to be the one to pull away. He couldn’t glance back as he walked towards his death. He couldn’t. 

~

Harry walked the empty grounds, looking at the corridor where Fred and George showed him the Marauder's Map. Behind him was the fountain where he launched himself into the sky on his Firebolt for the first time. The Forbidden Forest was where he served his first detention. The Snitch weighed heavily in his pocket. He took it out and read the words once more: I open at the close.

“I’m ready to die.” His breath shook as he pressed the cool gold to his lips. From within it rose a black diamond stone. The Resurrection Stone. Harry took it in his hand and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw his mother standing before him. Next to her was his father. Remus and Sirius stood to his right, and Ambrosi stood to his left. Lily held her hand out to Harry, but he could not touch it. “You’ve been so brave, sweetheart.” 

“Why are you here?” He swallowed softly, turning to look at them all. A soft, loving smile was on his mother’s lips. “We never left.” Surrounded by his loved ones, Harry’s fears began to resurface. “D-does it hurt? Dying.” Sirius absorbed the face of his godson and tried to reassure him as gently as possible. “Quicker than falling asleep.” His eyes fell on Ambrosi standing next to his father. “Ambrosi…. It was hard to remember them… your words. But I had to. I did.” Ambrosi nodded warmly, his eyes gleaming with the wisdom Harry found sanctuary in. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted any of you to die for me. And Remus, your son-” Tears brewed in Harry’s eyes now. They’d been held back for who knew how long.

“Others will tell him what his mother and father died for. One day, he’ll understand.” Swallowing his emotions away, he looked upon their faces -their mirages- one last time. “You’ll stay with me?” James was the one to respond, “Until the end.” 

“And he won’t see you?” Ambrosi denied this, and Sirius pointed to his heart. “We’re here, you see.” A few minutes ago, Harry had said he was ready to die. Now, he was. “Stay close to me.” 

“Always.” 

~~~

As the early hours of the morning came upon them, Voldemort brought his army back to Hogwarts. At the sight of them, people came out from the Great Hall. Neville led the way, the Sorting Hat clutched in his hand. 

“Who is that? Who’s that Hagrid’s carrying?” Tears spilled from Hagrid’s eyes. Nagini slithered at Voldemort’s side maliciously. “Neville, who is it?” Hermione and Ron stood silently, knowing what had happened but not ready to believe it yet. “Harry Potter is dead!” Amara’s eyes closed in pain as Ginny’s pained screams of anguish echoed around the broken stone. Draco held Amara’s hand. His face, too, was crumpled in hopelessness.

“Silence! Stupid girl. Harry Potter is dead. From this day forth, you put your faith in me.” Voldemort was victorious. It was time for his regime to begin. “Harry Potter is dead!” Behind him, the Death Eaters cackled. All but Narcissa and Lucius, whose eyes were on Draco and Amara across the courtyard. “And now is the time to declare yourself.” 

Voldemort’s glee was met with silence. “Come forward and join us… or die.” No one moved. “Draco!” Lucius urged Draco to come, and he didn’t move. His grip on Amara’s hand tightened, and he looked into her defeated hazel eyes. “Draco… Come.” His mother’s voice was one he couldn’t deny. Amara gave him the briefest of nods, but she understood. His hand slipped away from hers once more. Something in Amara hardened painfully. She had loved Draco for years and would love him forever. Yet, he would always be the one that got away.

Draco’s feet felt like lead as he soldiered across the courtyard. Voldemort appraised him, wrapping his arms around him awkwardly. “Well done, Draco. Well done.” Draco went to join his mother, who pulled close to her. Her face was as emotionless as could be, but her eyes spoke volumes. If she could, she would protect Amara too. But she knew the chances of that were very slim. 

Neville limped forward too. Ginny and Arthur Weasley looked at him in shock. “Well, I must say I’d hoped for better.” Voldemort’s followers chuckled again. From behind them, Hermione’s face was etched with pain and the tear stains seemed to never dry. “And who might you be, young man?” 

Despite everything, Neville’s voice was strong as he said his name, once again earning laughter, some of it especially loud at his last name. “Well, Neville, I’m sure we can find a place for you in our ranks.” “I’d like to say something.” Neville all but cut Voldemort off. This manner of foolish bravery amused him. “Well, Neville, I’m sure we’d all be fascinated to hear what you have to say.” 

“It doesn’t matter that Harry’s gone.” If Amara didn’t know any better, she’d have sworn Harry’s arm had moved. “Stand down, Neville.” “People die every day! Friends… family… Yeah, we lost Harry tonight. But he’s still with us! In here!” Neville pointed to his heart and Voldemort’s grin grew wider and wider as he listened. “And so is Fred, and Ambrosi… Remus… Tonks… All of them. They didn’t die in vain. But you will!” 

Voldemort’s smile turned into laughter. Surely there was nothing else left. “Because you’re wrong!” Amara made her way up to Neville, standing next to him in solidarity. “Tom Marvolo Riddle…” Amara’s voice was quiet, but everyone could hear it. “How many of your followers know of your true identity? How many know that your blood is dirty, by your own definition? Do they know that you are the son of a witch and a muggle… one proclaiming himself a Lord?” Voldemort’s jubilation vanished. No one had the audacity to speak to him in this way. Ever. “Harry’s heart did beat for us! For all of us!” Neville brandished the Sword from the Sorting Hat. “No matter how many followers you gather, they will never respect you the way we respect Harry.” Before Voldemort could attack them, Harry fell out of Hagrid’s arms, attacking Nagini. 

A renewed sense of hope spread across the crowd, a renewed will to fight. They would win. Harry ran, avoiding Voldemort’s attacks. Neville and Amara’s words hit them deeply. Death Eaters began Apparating away. From the corner of her eye, Amara saw Narcissa and Lucius running from the castle. It was then she gave up hope of seeing him again. 

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Amara regrouped in front of the gates. “I’ll lure him into the castle. We have to kill the snake.” Neville ran forward, the Sword of Gryffindor in the air. Before he could attack, Voldemort cast him back and Apparated away with Nagini. Spells were flying everywhere, and at times it was difficult to differentiate who to protect and who to attack. 

Minutes later, when Neville’s eyes opened, he was disoriented as well. Green, red, and white bursts of magic were all around him. His eyes fell on the Sword a few feet behind it. He took it up quickly, rushing to find the snake. Nagini was being distracted by Hermione as Ron attempted to stab her with a Basilisk fang. Before he could, she turned to him, hissing and snapping at him. 

Voldemort and Harry collapsed in the courtyard. This was it. Their wands met, just like they had three years ago. Hermione and Ron were running from Nagini. Amara attempted to cast spells to deter her but it was no use. She could not watch her friends die. Before Nagini got any closer, however, Neville sliced her in two. She exploded into a dark cloud. 

There was just him. Harry felt Voldemort falter as a piece of his soul disintegrated. He cast against him with fervor, and Voldemort could not hold it back for long. He, too, disintegrated, crumbling into dust and ash like any other in the yard. It was over.

~~~

Harry walked through the Great Hall with a serene smile on his face. They had lost many, but they would not lose any more to darkness. Aberforth chatted with Dean and Seamus. Professor Slughorn believed it was his time to retire and was telling this to Professor Sprout. Harry walked to Hagrid, who gave him a loving hug with a chuckle of peace. 

Amara was helping Madame Pomfrey administer healing potions when she saw Harry. Setting the potion down, Amara came to join him; Hermione and Ron did as well. The four walked out onto the bridge. The destruction wasn’t wearing down on them. The sun and the promise of a new beginning were both coming to fruition. 

Harry stared down into the chasm below, the Elder Wand in his hand. “Why didn’t it work for him? The Elder Wand.” Amara sat on the ledge of the bridge, her feet dangling down over the edge. “It answered to someone else. When he killed Snape, he thought the wand would become his. But the thing is, the wand never belonged to Snape.” Harry’s eyes looked down at Amara, pausing before he continued explaining.

“It was Draco who disarmed Dumbledore that night in the Astronomy Tower. From that moment on, the wand answered to him. Until… the other night, when Malfoy let me disarm him at Malfoy Manor.” Amara laid back onto the bridge, closing her eyes and letting the sun sink into her skin. “So that means…”

“It’s Harry’s.” Harry came to lay next to Amara. “What do we do with it?” Ron seemed giddy with excitement. “We?” Hermione was flabbergasted at the insinuation. “Just saying… that’s the most powerful wand in the world. With that… we’d be invincible.” Harry stared at the wand for a moment, watching the sleek wood shine in the moonlight. Then, he snapped it in two, sat up, and handed half of it to Amara. 

Amara twirled it over in her fingers for a moment. The wand once belonged to Draco. She had given up hope of being with him, but she had this small piece of him. They shared a look, and then, at the same time, Harry and Amara threw the pieces of the wand away below the bridge. Ron and Hermione stared at the pieces flying through the air in surprise. They came to sit next to Harry and Amara. Amara’s arm came around Hermione’s shoulders; Harry grinned at Ron. 

It was a real smile. There they sat, hand and hand, just as they had years ago. None of the four friends were afraid. The bright depths spread out below them like the future ahead. 

Our heroes have triumphed and can lead peaceful, calmer lives from now on. 

Thank you to everyone who is reading my story. It truly means so, so much to me to share this with you. The Fall semester of my university has begun, but I am already working on the third and final part of this mini series! 

Don’t hesitate to reach out to me, please! I’d love your feedback/comments/reactions/constructive criticisms :)

Lots of love, JustAThoughtfulAngel <3 

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #Malfoy #DM #Harry Potter #Harry #Potter #Hermione Granger #Hermione #Granger #Ronald Weasley #Ron Weasley #Ron #Weasley #Draco Malfoy love story #Draco Malfoy fanfiction #Draco Malfoy fanfic #Draco Malfoy oneshot #Draco Malfoy twoshot #Draco Malfoy Imagine #Draco Malfoy X OC #Draco X OC #Draco Imagine #Draco twoshot #Draco oneshot #Draco fanfic #Draco fanfiction #Draco love story #Amara Grimaldi #The One Who Was Lost

[brooklyn-1918]

Desert Rose: Part 4

Characters: OFC, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker, Tony Stark, and more to come.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC

Summary: Paige Chapman has decided to leave her life in the city behind for a life in the Arizona parts of the Mojave desert. She spends her days painting, and more recently, fawning over the cowboy across the way.

Warnings: Language, eventual smut, slow burn, mentions of toxic/abusive relationship. Let me know if you find anything else that should be warned against!

A/N: Sorry this chapter is shorter, and I want to say uneventful, but its kind of not. I don’t know. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. 

Previous Part

______________________________________________________________

Skipper lumbered on quietly, an occasional soft snort to expel the dust from his nose. Neither Paige nor Steve spoke. At some point in the last half hour of riding, Steve’s hands had slipped down to cover Paige’s hands, gently pulling them so she could steer his steed. 

The sun was starting to fall lower in the sky, but it still lit the earth in golden rays of warmth. And despite that warm, Paige shivered slightly, shivered with every gentle shift of his skin against her’s. She wanted so desperately just to snuggle back into his warm chest, feel his large arms wrapped around her.

Steve pulled back on her hands gently, closing her fingers even more around the smooth leather. Paige had been so lost in her own head that she didn’t notice that they had arrived at… Where were they?

Two 20 foot tall rock pillars leaned against each other, other, smaller boulders surrounded the tall rocks, with bushes and dead grasses sticking out of the cracks. Paige thought she could hear running water, but wasn’t sure. 

Steve slid out of the saddle, landing and sending up small clouds of dust around his boots, then held out his hand for Paige. She landed next to him, her legs more stable than they had been the last time she had been on Skipper. 

“Steve--” She grunted, losing her footing and falling into him.

“Where are we?” She questioned. He gave a chuckle and set her upright before reaching around to flip Skipper’s reins over his head, leading him forward. He then reached back to grab her hand, pulling her along.

“You’ll see.” He teased, a cheeky grin on his face. Paige huffed in annoyance, but reveled in their clasped hands. She shook her head with a smile and followed him around the rock formation, where she stopped short. 

It was beautiful. A small waterfall cascaded down from between the two rock formations, feeding a crystal blue spring. Lush green grasses shot up in patches all around, concealing the mud just around the bank of the water. A red rock ledge jutted out over the water, forming a small cave underneath. 

Steve tied Skipper to a rusted metal ring that had been embedded into the rock wall a long way back.

“Found this place some time ago. Never thought to bring anyone till’ now.” Steve said, guiding her up to sit on the ledge, before pulling himself up. He sat back on his elbows, giving her a warm smile. Paige’s stomach bubbled warmly, and she shifted so she was laying on her stomach, also propped on her elbows. 

“It’s beautiful here.” She murmured, eyes sweeping around again, before landing back on Steve, who was watching her with a smile. 

“Like you.” Steve wanted to say. He wanted to reach up to gently swipe the hair out of her eyes, to tuck it behind her ear. He wanted to grab her hand once more, lace her fingers with his. 

Paige caught as his fingers twitched towards hers, before he curled them in to make a loose fist. She smiled and grabbed his wrist, sliding down to squeeze his hand. He squeezed right back.

“Thank you for showing me.” She said as she crossed her free arm in front of her, placing her chin on her forearm. She refused to let go of his hand, and god, it was so nice. 

“Anytime.” He replied, placing his own free hand behind his head as he lay fully down. 

______________________________________________________________

They sat in silence for a long time. A comfortable silence, but neither were complaining. But the sun was getting almost unbearably hot. 

“Steve…” She whined, lifting her hand up and dropping their still clasped hands into the rock twice. 

“Yeah?” He chuckled. 

“I’m getting hot.” She looked over to him, and she felt bad. He was sweating more than a cold glass in the hot sun, but he hadn’t said anything. In fact, he looked like he was wilting. She reached over to wipe her thumb across his brow, swiping away some of the condensation. 

“Care for a dip then?” He jerked his free thumb over his shoulder to the spring, where Skipper had already waded in on the other side. 

Paige’s eyes went wide, and she sputtered. Looking back and forth between him and the water a few times, she pointed out the obvious. 

“I don’t have a swimsuit.” He laughed, and sat up, dropping her sweaty hand. First, he flopped his hat in the middle of the ledge, then tugged off his boots to join the headpiece. She watched him as he pulled off his flannel, then his grey tee-shirt, exposing his muscled chest. Her eyes drifted to the long scar that ran up his chest, but was distracted quickly.

Paige swallowed thickly as he slipped out of his pants, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, then jumped off the ledge and into the water below, sending stray water droplets to land on her. 

She sat up and scooted to the edge, fingers grasping the end. He smiled at her, the top of his head just reaching where the rock started. He had water dripping from his hair, beard, and lashes. 

“You comin’?” He asked, wrapping his wet hands around her wrists. Paige laughed and slipped out of his grasp, sliding back so she could pull her shirt over her head. Off followed her shoes, socks, and shorts, leaving her in her undergarments. 

She paused for a moment, then shook her anxious thoughts out of her head as she slipped off the rock. Steve caught her around the waist and twisted so he was between her and the rock as he set her down in the water. 

The water came up to her shoulders, and she laughed as she slipped on the slick rock floor, falling into the water and bringing Steve with her. They broke the surface with large grins and boisterous laughter, startling Skipper out to lay down on the bank. 

“It's cold!” She squealed, hands subconsciously going around Steve’s shoulders. 

“It's a spring.” Steve said, grin on his face.

“Holy shit!” She giggled, shivering slightly. Steve snorted and put one arm under her knees, the other around her shoulders, carrying her bridal style. 

“Do you know how to play colors?” He asked, turning his head so he was almost nose to nose with her. She nodded, then paused in contemplation. 

“Wait, isn’t that a childrens’ game?” He nodded and flicked one eyebrow up. 

“I’m thinkin of a color.” He said. 

“Blue?” She asked. She shrieked as he dipped her under the water, and was brought up laughing. 

“Orange?” He dipped her under again. She proceeded to go through the entire rainbow, and threw in a few random colors for good measure. Each and every time she got dunked. 

“Oh, come on! I give up, what is it?” She questioned, expecting to be put down. She wasn’t. 

“It’s the most beautiful color I ever lay eyes on. Constantly changing with the way you get mad, or with how your face lights up in joy. It’s the kind of color you could get lost in, deeper than the surreal forests, lighter than the frothy oceans.” Paige’s eyes started to tear up as she slowly realized.

“Even now, changing how it looks with a few simple tears. The most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen.” He finished quietly. Paige lifted her hand to the back of his neck, bringing her head forward, brushing her lips against his, before pressing them there more firmly. 

She smiled as she drew back, loving grins on both of their faces. His thumb rubbed circles into her shoulder, and she let her fingers brush the hair back. 

“You’re such a sap.” She chuckled. Steve’s face broke into a mock shocked expression, playful.

Needless to say, he dumped her in the water.

______________________________________________________________

They lay, hands clasped, fingers intertwined together, back on the ledge. They hadn’t put their clothes back on yet, but were letting themselves dry off. Steve glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, taking in her dreamy expression. 

“Do you want to come for dinner again?” He questions, lifting both their hands up and dropping them gently back to the rock. She shuffles to look at him, frown playing at her lips. 

“What?” He asks, laughing gently. Paige flips onto her stomach, and props herself on her elbows, dropping his hand. 

“I don’t think everyone in your household likes me.” She states bluntly, with a slight nod of her head. Steve laughs again, flipping onto his own stomach. He takes her hand again with another squeeze. 

“Bucky? He’s just cautious. He could be nicer, I admit.” Paige nods, raising her brow and scrunching her nose. Steve tilts his head with a small smile, reaching up to brush the hair from her eyes. 

“I’m sorry ‘bout him.” He supplied. Paige shrugs with a smile, crossing her arms and dropping her chin down. 

“How about you come to my place, and we can eat as just the two of us?” She asks hopefully. To this, Steve chuckles again. Her expression of hope, her small voice, her posture. 

“Sure, darlin’. Do we need anything?” He asks, dropping down so he can match her position. She crinkles her brow in concentration, then shakes her head. 

“I don’t think so. I have stuff for steaks?” She asked, and he smiled, playfully licking his lips. She laughed before reaching to pull her phone out of the pocket of her crumpled jeans, checking on the time. 

“Shall we go then?” She asked, showing him the time. Steve grinned and pushed himself to his feet, before helping her up. Paige stood, and Steve gave her a twirl as she laughed, hand clasped in his. 

______________________________________________________________

The pair moved around Paige’s kitchen like they were dancing, ducking and twirling around the other with graceful precision. Paige chopped vegetables for a salad with deadly speeds, and Steve was army neat with the way he set the table, everything in its place. 

“You ready?” She called over her shoulder, watching as Steve set out the two glasses of her iced tea. 

“Ready.” He called back, turning on his heel to face her. Steve walked up behind her, resting his hands on her hips and leaning forward to give her a peck to the cheek. Paige smiled and felt her cheeks heat just the slightest, and as he leaned in to give her another small pack, she maneuvered so that their lips caught each other. They both grinned into the kiss before breaking apart to sit down, Steve grabbing the bowl of salad. 

“This is nice.” Paige commented, grabbing Steve’s hand as he reached for it. He nodded with a smile and swallowed the bite he had just taken. 

“Indeed.” Steve smiled, and stayed quiet for a moment. 

“So I was thinkin, about this.” He motioned first to her, then to himself. A small frown pulled at her lips before he went on.

“I was thinkin that we should go on a more official date. If that’s somethin you want.” He added the last part quickly, nervously chewing on the bottom of his lip. Paige’s face lit up, and she nodded her head vigorously. 

“Absolutely. Where should we go?”

“I was gonna ask you that.” 

“Oh. Well, uh, I know it’s not exactly date material, but…” Paige trailed off, looking off to the side, where Juniper sat watching her, his face looking almost as if he was saying for her to go on. Luckily, Steve did that for him.

“Where? Now I’m curious.” He said, drawing her attention back to himself. Paige blinked and sighed, before letting out a small chuckle. 

“I’ve always wanted to go to the Grand Canyon. I find it fascinating. Have you ever been?” She asked, watching him expectantly. Steve gave a hearty laugh, tilting his head back slightly. 

“The Grand Canyon is like a prerequisite if you live in Arizona. We can check it off your list though.” He squeezed her hand before dropping it. They fell into a comfortable conversation, moving from topic to topic, the candles in the center of the table burning down until they were finished. 

______________________________________________________________

They stood at her door, the sun long past set, Paige’s frame glowing from the warm light of the entry. Each had one finger hooked together, not speaking, just staring, goofy smiles on their faces. Paige fought back a yawn, and Steve shook his head slowly. 

“You get some sleep. I’m pickin you up at 8 tomorrow mornin.” Steve brushed the hair from her forehead before planting a kiss there. Paige sleepily nodded, then wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her ear against his chest, listening to his heart thump. 

He embraced her, his arms secured snugly to her. She took a step back and brought her hands up to rest on his cheeks, the bristles of his beard prickleing at her palms. Gently, she pulled his head down so they could kiss one last time, firm yet soft, lovely. They broke apart with small smiles.

“Goodnight darlin.” Steve whispered, taking a step back so she could close the door, eyes never leaving hers. 

“Goodnight Steve.” 

@luckyvee​ @patzammit​ @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines​ @pagesoflauren​ @jtargaryen18​ @brooklyns-boys​

#captain america x ofc #captain america #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x oc #marvel #cowboy au

[threadofdestiny]

The opportunities we may take

(The Picture was a comission I odered from a friend. Check her out -> Fantasiamind_art)

Sinbad x oc

Soulmate AU

Part 1

The path he refuses to go

---In the middle of the sea, on the way to the dark continent---

„Go to sleep Ja´far. I´ve got this!“, the young man assured, while he kept one hand loosely on the steering wheel. His golden eyes fixed on the compass which rests in his other one, blinking ones, twice, before he looked up to gaze at his silent companion.

“Are you sure, Sin? You look like you've barely slept for days, either”, the younger one asked, after looking thoughtfully at his friend. Ja´far came a step closer to him, examining his physical state doubtingly.

“You look like shit!”, the white haired teenager finished his investigation, entwining his arms stubbornly in front of his chest.

“Ouch, don't be so mean! Now I want you to go. Get some sleep and let me smolder”, Sinbad answered, as he theatrically digs his fingers in his tunic that lingers above his torso, as if Ja´fars words had actually hurt him. Before Ja´far could start again, Sinbad interrupted him, waving the younger one of: “In a few days we are going to reach our new destination. I´ve got plenty of time to rest until then”, Sinbad responded now with a broad smile on his lips. Still unconvinced, but finally giving in, Ja´far nodded as he slowly turned away.

“Well, if you say so...but before I lie down, I ask Hinahoho to replace you later”, He  responded over his shoulder, referring to the nordic tribesman who had accompanied them since the beginning of their journey, before he disappeared into the darkness to go to the sleeping quarters.

Now on his own, the only noises that broke the silence around Sinbad were the calm waves hitting the ship's wood and the wind that made the sails flutter.

A sigh emanated from the young man as he let his gaze glide over the stars that filled the night sky. His next destination was the dark continent, looking there for a place where he can found his own Kingdom.

He knew that he was someone special. That he was bound to do great things. Blessed by the rukh with a view of this world that no one else was able to see. He had a vision that he strives to accomplish and the gods gave him the skills to do just that. If he concentrated he could see it. His next step to achieve his goal. But not just that... He could see them all clearly in front of him. All those people that are destined to cross his way. Although they were still unknown to him, he could identify every single person that would be important to him in the future. Like waves they are connected to each other.

Friends

Foes

In the end they will all be the key to his eventual success.

Many various paths opened up to him, ready for him to choose which way to go, but he normally has always been someone who prefers the direct route. The clear route. It´s not like him to bother over an occasional storm that crosses his path, because he was flexible and confident in his skills. He wouldn't let anything stop him. No way. Even if the straight path is going to be a stony one, he would pay the price if it means that he accomplish his goals in the end. Furthermore, a few hurdles on his journey makes the adventure exciting in the end after all, right?

Reader of the waves. First class singularity

Many followed him because of his courage and his determination. Because he seems to know where to go and how to archive his goals. Despite his chaotic nature, he always overcome his own destiny, bending it to his will, while he was able to convince the people around him to follow and aid him. No matter how far-fetched his plans often seemed, he knew that he was charismatic enough to convince them all that he knows where the path will take them. Yes ... he was indeed blessed.

But sometimes he secretly finds it hard to keep his eyes on the thinks his mind was set on...

It was completely contrary to his character to question himself, but here he stood, doubting his choices.

His gaze once again wandered over the clear lines that drew all those possible paths he could choose to take, until he got stuck with a very specific one.

At the end of this line stood the silhouette of a young woman. Her back was turned towards him as she gazed up at the stars in front of her, like she was waiting for someone. Her braided brown hair was lying over her shoulder as she slowly raised her hands in front of her chest and out of his view. As he imagined her to slowly turn her gaze in his direction, he hastily turned away.

It seemed silly to him that he was so anxious. That every time he thought about her his heart thundered in his chest for a girl unknown to him, but he couldn´t give in to this infatuation, because while after every other person he would meet on his way, a clearer path continued in his line of sight, the lines became pale and inaccurate behind her. It was as if her mere presence blurred the paths so much that he could no longer make them out. But why? He had no choice but to speculate about it, but he had never come to a result that seemed to please him.

As he squeezed his golden eyes tightly to get rid of the image of her, his heart painfully pulled together, taking his breath away in a strangely manner.

He couldn't follow her path.

No.

Because he has to have his goal in his mind. He couldn't be distracted. Not now. Not after he had come this far.

Convincing himself to keep his course to the dark continent, he was comforted by the thought, that he might follow her path at a later date.  Yes, that's what he kept talking to himself for a while now. At some point he would visit her after he accomplished his goals, or maybe if he was willing to accept the uncertainty that seems to come with her presence. And then he would finally find out why he was so attracted to her. Why he felt so keen to get her to him. Because this was something that just didn't make sense to him. He didn't know her, didn't know who she was and why his feelings went crazy, when he thought of her.

How ironic to see every path except that one that would come after hers, as if his own abilities wanted to mock him and his strange desires.

For now it was better as it was at the moment. He was young, just 17 years old. He wanted to experience so much more, discover new places, make friends, meet women without bindings...

At this thought, a cheeky grin spread on his lips. Deeper feelings, whatever they may be, must not stand in his way. Yes, she could wait, he lied to himself.

And yet, as he now clutched the steering wheel tightly with both hands, while he kept his gaze stubbornly in front of him, he wondered why it felt like he was sacrificing something important just to fulfill his goals. Only so that he can continue to see the path clearly in front of him.

---- Far away,  on the island of Dalmasca-----

Candles that have been distributed individually on the furniture shrouded the room in a soft light. On a bed, a young girl, barely 17 years old, crouched down as she cried bitterly in her pillow. The silk curtains attached to the bedposts cast a shadow over her, as she leaned against the backrest.  Little golden birds, that were invisible for most humans, chirped carefully around her as if they wanted to comfort her, but she had heard enough, she just wanted to process what was going to happen now. Or rather what will not going to happen.

He won't come

As it was now, it shouldn't have been, shouldn't it? She was told that when the time came, she would stand alongside the next singularity. That he would come for her, to take her with him, so she could be there for him. To aid him. To guide him. To protect him from himself. To keep him in the light. Were they all wrong? No, they can't have made a mistake, because it was the will Solomons, right?  The prophecies cannot be wrong. But were they perhaps misinterpreted? Wasn't she created for him? But way does she feel their connection, then? Doesn't he feel it, too, the pain of being separated? But what was fate in the eyes of the only man who able to see it in front of him? Whoever can control it the way he wants it?

It doesen´t matter what the scriptures say, if the reader of the waves don´t want to collect the listener of the flow, she will have to live with it.

Too bad she always wanted to be with him.

“Why wouldn't he want to come?” she asked sadly as she lifted her face and stared heartbroken at her bracelet. Her braided brown hair fell off her shoulder as she moved. Some strands that had detached from her braid stuck to her tear-strained face as she tried to blink away the next tears that gathered in her eyes. Her fingers trembled over the engraved octagonal star, that glows on the center of her jewelry, but as always she received no reaction from the creature who lived in it. If she didn't know better, she would slowly doubt that it existed at all.

“Alexander, please tell me”, she whispered. However, she only got more silence from her supposed aid.

Why wasn't she strong enough to get her Djinn to hear her plead?

The rukh chirped louder, gained her attention when they took it upon themselves to fill the silence. Mildly comforted, she raised her hands in front of her chest and folded them into each other while she closed her eyes, listening. All at the same time they whispered to her, pleased to speak to the only person who could truly listen. They spoke so quickly that she struggled to understand what they wanted to explain to her, when it suddenly knocked on the door.

Shocked, her concentration slipped away as she cracked her eyes and let her gaze drive towards the noise. She hurriedly wiped her face free from her remaining tears and brushed her loose strands of hair behind her ears.

“Y-Yes?” she answered aloud.

“Salome? Are you okay? You missed dinner. May I come in?”, her younger brother's muted voice sounded from outside.

“Of course!”, she answered as she crawled to the edge of the bed, pillow long forgotten at her side.

The door opened slowly and revealed a slightly younger teenager with the same shade of brown hair like herself, tied together in a short tail at the back of his head. His searching gaze became soft when he saw his sister's weeping face.

“Heya...I brought you something to eat” he whispered gently, as he lifted up the tray he was holding in his hands.

“Thank you, Malik”, Salome returned, while she accepted the food. Now that Maliks hands were free again, he lifted them to her cheeks and gently wiped over them as he slowly settled beside his sister.

“Are you alright?”

“You don´t have to worry, brother”, she dodged his question, while hoping that he would not continue to rake. In response he smoldered his lips, as he thoughtfully looked at her face.

“This is not the answer I wanted to hear, sister. It doesn´t matter anyway, It´s plastered all over your face. You are all red from crying. Quite ugly if you ask me.”, he teased, as he dodged her newly found pillow she was trying to attack him with.

“You are so mean. If you just want to annoy me, you can go again right away”, She whined, as he yanked her pillow out of her hands to gently punch her on the head with it.

"I don't like it when you cry!" He chided softly before sitting down next to her and stroking her back without another comment. A faint smile spread across her lips when she understood that he was just worried about her. Quietly, they looked at each other smiling sadly as they enjoyed the silence around each other. After a while, Salome made institutions to break the silence, however, the relaxed mood abruptly faded as it knocked urgently on the door again.

Before either of them could answer, the door was already opened and a man in his mid-20s, with blonde wild curls and wide flying robes, stormed in. Surprised by the new guest's appearance, the siblings stared at him in shock, waiting to see what he wanted to tell them. An uneasy feeling spread in Salome, when the Rukh began to flutter in panic, just to match the ones that twirled around the older men´s.

“Salome, The other priests have confirmed it, the wall is weakening. You were right, they will come to get you ”

What the reader of the waves didn't know was that it will probably be too late if he changes his mind to come and get her. That this was probably his last chance after all.

Now surprisingly calm, the brown haired girl rose from the edge of the bed and walked quietly past the two men, approaching her window. Once again, her gaze wandered to her bangle, hoping to get a reaction from her metal vessel. Nothing. With a sigh on her red lips, she looked out of the window as her long, slim fingers slowly danced over the cool glass. The oppressive silence of her two companions was only tempered by the quiet chirping of the golden birds, but she hardly cared as she looked up at the stars and listened to what the rukh were trying to tell her.

How ironic it was that they say that her time had not yet come, as if they didn´t told her earlier,  that her live was about to fall into pieces before her very own eyes.

But she knew it for a few days now. She could feel it. However did that give her the necessary strength to change something on time? Unfortunately not as she would´ve liked, but that was fine for now. When the time came, she would be ready. At least she hoped so. All she knew was that she was not going to give up. Not now, nor ever.

“I already know. Let´s prepare then”

#adventuresofsinbad #ocxsinbad #sinbadxoc #sinbad #adventures of sinbad #magi #sinbad magi #fanfic #xoc #romance #magi kingdom of magic #magi labyrinth of magic #adventures of sindbad #sinbad no bouken

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, KAY! You’ve been accepted for the role of HELENUS. Admin Rogue: I will be honest and say I must have read this app six times since we got it, minimum. There was something about your words that made me want to live in them forever, to tell Hugo all my secrets and let him tell me his. Hugo is so easy to turn saintly or push toward martyrdom, and your Hugo is a good person with all his flaws on display, humanity shining forth so clearly from him that he breaks my heart. He reminds us that sometimes God’s will brings down the crusades; he understands peace the same as he has made war, and Hugo knows the sanctity of blood in how he cannot wash it from his hands. I think I fell a little in love with him in this app, in spite of his Jimmy Buffet obsession, and that’s when I knew we couldn’t go another day without him! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Obiwan Kaynobi

Age | 25

Preferred Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | I feel like I’m active on the dash at least twice a week, and if I’m not posting replies I’m able to lurk the dash on mobile and plot on discord. But, with the quarantine and finally getting into a rhythm, I think I’ll be able to get on the dash more often!

Timezone | The Twilight Zone jk it’s PST now!

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the rp?  | One day Pandora showed up in my brain and I couldn’t get rid of her. Now Hugo also lives there with his Catholic guilt and honestly it’s a nightmare.

Current/Past RP Accounts | Here’s Panda’s blog!

IN CHARACTER

Character | Helenus, Hugo Kim. Hu-go, (German); meaning mind. Kim, (Korean); meaning gold, iron.

What drew you to this character? | Honestly, the thing that struck me about Hugo was that he’s the guiding light for so many people - and it’s ironic. He’s the prophet of the people, telling them each Sunday to do well, to be good and then he turns around and commands the other Capulet soldiers to harm others. And honestly, I think there are times that Hugo questions the good word. His hands are stained with blood and it doesn’t matter how many confessions he sits through because they’ll be stained red forever.

I also love that despite his affiliation with the Capulets, he does hold sermons on Sundays. Religion is the one thing that he has left of his parents - his mother - and Cosimo can pry that from his cold, dead hands. There’s a sort of natural confidence Hugo exudes when preaching and it spills over into his missions. In his bio it says, “They flock and he guides them, a SHEPHERD to Cosimo Capulet’s people.” He’s someone that people will listen to regardless of whether he’s leading the mission or not.

But, the one thing that really stood out to me with Hugo is his devotion. Whether it’s to his mother, God, Halcyon, he’s 100% devoted no matter what. He puts the time needed to do a job well done and I think that’s something most people look over with Hugo. There is no person more devoted to the morals he’s bound to than him. It’s something that makes him stand out from the rest of the gang members.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

a. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. The Cathedral is technically Capulet territory, but Lawernce wandered in one night and let every sin fall from his lips, tethering the two of them together whether the liked it or not. This encounter is something that can and will tear Hugo apart. He’s bound to both the church and the Capulets - neither of which he ever planned on crossing. Watching him struggle between his faiths is something I would love to see happen on the dash.

b. Sister Saint Monica, you’ve got me on my knees. Halcyon, his personal angel sent from Cosimo. She’s his guiding light, his angel of mercy, the one he’ll pray to each night - and I would love to see how far he’s willing to go for her. How much blood will he spill in order to feed the person he sees as a God? And of course, how will that guilt manifest after he’s done it? How often will he find himself on the bathroom floor, shaking and sobbing from the faces that haunt his dreams and the souls that claw at his throat all for the sake of Halcyon?

c. Bathe me in holy water and erase my sins. Killing his own brother is something that Hugo has yet to forgive himself for. The memory of his parents on the floor, the gun in his hand, the sounds coming from his mouth after he pulled the trigger play on repeat in his mind daily. How does he deal with the constant onslaught of this? Does he find himself crying in the confessional over what he’s done or does he simply let the memory play out and avoid thinking about it? It’d also be interesting if another character knew what he did and used it as leverage over him.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | As long as he gets to marry Brat first, feel free to kill him. That can be the first and last thing I do with him, please just let him marry them.

IN DEPTH

In-Character Interview:

What is your favorite place in Verona? | We recommend looking at the location page and reading it over to figure out where your character’s favorite place is – if it’s not their own house/room.

He’s positive that the woman across from him expects to hear the Cathedral. But, the stained glass and golden pews have long since turned sour to Hugo. Now, they remind him of blood and guns and the rush of guilt that burns in his throat like bile. He thinks of the theater, how he and Albert used to hide underneath the seats to sneak into a second showing. The library, once a place that he was able to roam without hesitation and devour any book he desired, now stings in his memory since it became off-limits. Finally, the corners of his lips quirk up. “Twelfth Night Museum holds a dear place in my heart. I can’t say much about the attendees who show up at night, but during the day it’s beautiful.”

What does your typical day look like?

Hugo pauses for a moment, mulling over the words before he speaks. He glances at the watch on his wrist, then his shoes, and finally meets the eye of the interviewer. The interview is for a profile on him, a puff piece to lighten the city when all it knows is death and destruction. “Well, it’s Saturday. I host evening mass then head over to Phoenix and Turtle for the bread donation. My days are typically the same, depending on whether or not the farmers market is here.” He graces her with another smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. What he leaves out is that his nights are filled with the scent of gun powder and his fingers brushing eyelids shut, a prayer whispered under his breath.

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

How was he supposed to pick just one mistake? There had been plenty of missteps through the years that would certainly be labeled the worst. The stolen liquor from the bodega, the moans in the backseat of a car, the night he killed Albert. Far too many things have been deemed his biggest mistake. “Even I’m allowed to have secrets.” Hugo glances out the window and watches the couples walk by. They’ll have to try harder than this to get him to reveal what it is. “That one is between me and myself.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

His gut reaction is to say preaching his sermon. The words of the good book that fall from his lips and into the ears of the parish are nothing but lies - but now was not the time nor place to discuss that matter. “There are times I’m asked to stop helping those in need. I have to respect their wishes, but it’s not in my nature to walk away from those who need help.” He thinks of the dying who were left to bleed after he shot at them, of the unfortunate souls who end up injured by falling into debt with them, of the addicts who pump their veins with Theo’s latest experiment and can’t escape the warmth the drug gives them. Ignoring these souls only to have them haunt him later is the most difficult thing he’s done.

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

He nearly chokes as he takes a sip from the mug. As the interview continued, it seemed as if the questions were diving deeper and deeper into unsafe territory. Perhaps it would’ve been smart to let one of the emissaries approve the list of questions before he arrived. “As a man of God, I can only hope that no more bloodshed happens.” His lips press into a thin line. “Hasn’t our city seen enough?” His answer is honest, one that he never dared utter before now. The war his boss wages against the Montagues is one that he finds despicable. So much has been lost in the names of each family and yet, they continue to take more and more and more.

Extras: Bold of you to assume I don’t have any extras. Here is his mockblog, a Pinterest board, and as always, let me sprinkle some hcs here:

Hugo’s very into the arts. His favorite artist is M.C. Escher.

This man is not straight. Local disaster bi preacher is at your service.

There’s a photo of his parents tucked into his wallet so he’s able to carry them everywhere.

He does yoga whenever he gets the chance.

Hugo’s a huge Jimmy Buffet fan, I’m sorry but it’s true.

He’s also a huge Florence and The Machine fan so it balances out.

More often than not, there’s a bottle of cheap scotch in his chambers in the Cathedral. It’s hidden inside of a hollowed-out Bible.

#accepted #accepted: helenus

[jack-andthestalk]

Our Son, Arc II, Storytime, Chapter 12

@notevenjokingfic​​ took a small idea I had and used her wonderful mind to help me build on it for this chapter. Both she and @balfeheughlywed​ give me their time, advise and support and I really value it all as I know they've hectic lives outside of fanfic land. As usual @laythornmuse​ and @ladyviolethummingbird have been hugely helpful and supportive, and the DM's over our combined fics could fill a novel lol.

7 weeks later. Boston.

    With my phone tucked under my chin and Jenny Fraser’s persistent questioning in my ear, I fumbled in the bottom of my bag in search of the house keys.

  “Jenny, honestly I’m fine. We're back in a routine now, Willie is happy to see his old school friends. – I – am fine.”

    “Ye have repeated fine twice, so ye must be then.” She quipped sarcastically, before her tone softened – “ye are not and I ken it well, mam and Da want to go out to see ye and Willie in a few weeks would that be ok?”

  “Of course, I would love to see them, and Willie would be delighted.”

  “aye,” Jenny agreed quietly. I could almost hear her mind working over the phone.

  “Wot?” I blurted out more testily than Jenny deserved and kicked myself.

  “Ach, it’s nothing Claire, it’s just I ken ye dinna want to talk about him, but I only wondered if ye had heard anything from Jamie? His calls are becoming less and less frequent here, Mam and Da are worrit and I – don’t want to upset ye, but there is something off about what is going on there.”

  I wasn’t capable of answering without sounding bitter, but I heard the weary, worried tone in Jenny’s voice and wouldn’t hurt her for anything.

  “He rings Willie every second day.” I said sighing, since the first phone call after I returned to Boston, I just hand the phone to Willie, so I haven’t really spoken to him myself – I can’t just yet.” I finished honestly.

  “aye – off course Claire.”

  The vice-tight grip on my heart as I even discussed Jamie was the reason I wasn’t capable of holding a conversation with him. My days and nights spent missing him, followed by the wave of gripping pain overcoming me every time I imagined him with Geneva Dunsany, her high pitched giggle haunting my dreams as I saw her, at work, at play and in his bed.

  Willie tugged impatiently on my coat, “Will ye open the door mama, I’m burst’n.” I looked down at him as he danced from foot to foot while holding his crotch.

  Pushing the door open, I dropped my bag and swapped Jenny to my opposite ear.

  “Look I’m sure, he is just busy there Jen, it’s all new – ” I trailed off lamely.  Geneva is new; I thought to myself and felt the lump run from my stomach up to my throat.

  “Claire – “Jenny began hesitantly “I dinna think Jamie is busy for the reasons you do; I have spoken to him – I told ye what he said.”

  I blinked back tears, “Yes you did – but I really can’t think about it anymore – I need to be strong for Willie and working myself into a weeping heap thinking of the what if’s will not help me function.” I admitted in resigned sigh.

  There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few moments, and Jenny’s tone was almost unrecognisable when she spoke again.

  “As mad as I am with him for putting you in this position, to even give people the chance to question him. I don’t believe it. – Claire, I heard him. There is no way that man loves anyone but ye.”

  The bitterness in my retort surprised me as much as Jenny, “He doesn’t need to love her Jenny.”

  I could hear static and the sound of Jenny picking something up and placing it down again. I didn’t need to see her to know she was pacing, a tell when Jenny was thinking, similar to Jamie’s fingers running a rhythm on his thigh. Fraser quirks.

  “Claire – ya ken ye need to speak to him, yer not being honest with him either. “

  “Not yet- its – too ” I cut off mid-sentence when my eye fell on an envelope amongst the post that was  strewn across the welcome mat. 

  Mr William Fraser, followed by our address and in Jamie’s very distinguishable scrawl.

  “Claire, are ye there?”

  “Oh yes sorry- yes –yes I am.” An urgency to get Jenny off the phone made me blurt out “I promise I will talk to him soon.”

  “Jen I have to go Willie needs – “

  “Aye, aye, go on then I will speak to ye tomorrow.”

  I heard a click at her end and grabbed the envelope from the floor ignoring the rest.

                    ___________

    Willie ripped open the package with gusto, tongue hanging from his mouth in concentration. Toppling the contents on to the table, he clutched something resembling a brightly illustrated, bound journal.

  He cast it up into the air and excitedly declared “Da send me a book.”

  “So it would seem” I replied throwing my dubious gaze over it.

  The front cover was a sweeping landscape of fields and meadows, a little mole family standing front and centre arms and hands entwined with each other. I only needed to glance once to know that it was Jamie’s work. He had inherited Ellen’s artistic streak, and often drew funny cartoon characters to entertain Willie, this work had the same detailed sketching but with bright wisps of colour illuminating it. 

  It wasn’t unusual for Jamie to buy or send books to Willie; bedtime story was their thing whenever they were together. Jamie excelled at it, he read animatedly to Willie, giving each character a funny accent, making background sounds and explaining any detail Willie failed to grasp. In the short time he had lived together in Lallybroch I found myself being lulled into Willie’s room at night to hear Jamie read to him.

  The bound storybook I held in my hand now, was a first; Jamie had made an actual book just for Willie.

  The title at the top of it read, The Mole family and at the bottom, it said written and illustrated by James Fraser.

   “Look Mama” Willie was jumping up and down excitedly, “those moles are us, see.” His little finger jamming each animal. “The big mole looks like Da, he is really tall and has red curly hair, and he is wearing a kilt!” Willie’s eyes were wide as saucers as his gaze drifted to the littlest of the moles, who was wearing Willie’s favourite jeans, sweater combo, this mole had the same straight floppy red hair as Willie that made it so easy to pick him from a crowd.

  “That one is me –” he continued voice getting pitcher with each similarity he could find “oh and look” – he almost screeched – “that pretty mole is you, mama.”

  I had never seen a pretty mole before and had to admit the mole Willie was now jabbing eagerly, was quite eye-catching, and there was little doubt this mole was female.

  She stood out from the rest of her family, wearing a pretty floral dress resembling something I owned and wore regularly, a matching flower stuck in long curly hair.  However, what made her different to the others wasn’t just her lack of red hair or feminine wardrobe, it was the detail Jamie went to in adding golden flecks to her eyes making them look like they were glowing. She had long fluttering eyelashes sweeping wide across her upper lid and a wide smile lighting her face.  Her femininity was further emphasised by the usual lack of roundness moles typically possessed, this mole had an accentuated curvy figure with a controversial voluptuous cleavage for a children’s book.

  Jamie had further personalised this mole to resemble me by adding a shiny stethoscope, which hung loosely around her neck.

  I bristled at the happy little family bounding up from the page, suddenly angry at whatever Jamie was trying to pull off. Paint a picture of a happy mole family running through a pretty garden, make it resemble the woman you fucked over and all should be forgiven?

   Willie peeked inside the front cover which had an inscription a printed version of Jamie’s scrawl, he hastily thrust the book into my hand, “what does it say mama?” rubbing his little hands together, smile wide and brimming with delight.

  I inhaled deeply as I glanced at the typescript and cursed Jamie with everything I possessed.

  “Well” I began evenly, “the name is called the Mole Family” I traced my finger lightly over the title. Imagining Jamie bent over a desk plotting his story out.

  Willie nodded his head, “aye and what does that say at the bottom?”

  I puffed out an incredulous  breath and damned Jamie Fraser to hell and back.

  “It says: Mama please read this to Willie, all my love Da.”

  My childish heart felt like picking up my phone and texting him to read his own bloody story.

  However, I wouldn’t deprive Willie of anything and certainly not something that had lit up his whole face the way this book had.

Letting out a shaky breath I told Willie to brush his teeth and to hop into bed, “I will be there in a minute.”

  ________

  Holding Willie under the crook of my arm I opening the first page of Jamie’s book, feeling ridiculously nervous for someone about to undertake what most parents routinely went through every evening.  I couldn’t shake the feeling that this book was more than just a bedtime story.

  Once upon a time, way up in the Scottish highlands lived a mole family.

Da Mole, Mama Mole and Baby Mole.

They loved their home, and their little farm and being together –

    Jamie had illustrated each page, showing the moles living and working happily on their farm, to build the story he had included the moles with different types of dialogue, riding horses, playing with the baby mole,  all lending to the storybook happy family image most children’s books captured.

  I turned a page to find the mole family standing outside a house that looked eerily familiar to what the finished product of our house at Lallybroch should have looked like; Willie didn’t seem to notice my hesitancy at turning the next page, as if I was waiting for something to explode from the book.

  Willie pointed at the smallest mole riding a large black horse, tilting his head up to look at me,

  “look mama I’m riding Donas”  he declared proudly.

  “So you are.” The next page showed the mole talking to a new family of animals. “What are those?” Willie asked, his brows creased in confusion. “Wait until I get to that bit” my curiosity had me skimming ahead quickly, suddenly desperate to know where this story was going.

  One day a weasel family came to visit. They asked Da mole to go and work for them at their home, far away from Scotland.  Da Mole didn’t want to work for the Weasel family, so he said no thank you, he would hate to leave Mama mole and baby mole. However, the Weasels were a mean family and _____

    My heart beat fast in my chest as I read on to Willie, revealing the Weasel family threatened and fought with the moles until Da mole went with them.

  Willie’s brow creased and his chin dimpled while he listened to each twist and turn.

   I couldn’t deny I was more familiar with the beginning of the story but once I turned the page to see Da mole working at the weasel farm and a new character introduced on the page next to him. I almost forgot I was reading a four-year-old story and found my eyes jumping ahead as  I eyed a puffin dressed in a police uniform that Jamie had drawn in great detail.

  The puffin had floppy blonde hair, with boggle eyes, he was dressed head to toe in police uniform.

  Da mole was working one day on the Weasel farm when Puffin the policeman came to see him –

  My lips trembled, and my sweaty palms fumbled with the pages as I read over the piece about the policeman to Willie and again in my head.  The policeman said the weasels had a lot of money that didn’t belong to them, and if Da mole could pretend to be their friend, the weasels might show Da mole where they hid their money.

  I almost forgot to read the bit to Willie where the puffin would watch and listen to everything Da mole did so he could catch the weasels I was so intent on working out what this meant for Jamie in Hellwater.

  “ye skipped a bit mama” Willie pushed his hand to where the puffin was observing Da mole from a distance.

  As the story played out, I found myself ignoring Willie’s requests to put different accents on the animals as Jamie did. Instead carefully piecing  together the plot Jamie was laying out, and the message he sent when the policeman told the mole of the risks to his family should they find out what he was doing.

  Jamie had worked towards Willie seeing how much the mole missed his family, a little thought cloud bubble over the mole’s head, imagining what it would be like to be home again in bed with his family all of them curled up contently in one bed.

  Willie’s head bent solemnly, “that’s like pur Da.”

  I turned the next page to images and text of Da mole befriending the weasels so that they led him to the money. Willie complained I was reading too fast.

   The quality of the bedtime story taking a backseat as I grappled to understand what this all meant.

  As I reached the last few pages, Da mole was stood in a room filled with money, showing it to a little army of puffins. Willie laughed at the funny caricature faces Jamie had given each one.

  I licked my lips nervously as the story concluded with Da mole back and happy with his family. The weasels locked up. Willie sighed contentedly, “that was sooo good mama, will ye read it one more time?”

  I could barely stop myself from tearing out of the room to scan the book alone. Turning off the light I promised Willie I would read it one more time in the morning before school.

  A few minutes later I was bent over the book in the kitchen, going through each detail. Panic rising in my belly as I examined each picture again, this time noticing small details that my addled brain had missed, the puffin pointing at a phone and telling the mole not to use it, ‘if the weasels should find out.”  Written in the dialogue box about the puffins head.

  I let my fingers feel each drawing, feather-light touching the words images of Jamie plotting, planning and taking the time to sketch something to match each twist and turn so that he could tell me a story.

  This wasn’t the action of someone who was cheating with another woman; this was someone who was caught and still found a way – to make me see.

  My fingers suddenly felt something like brail along the last page.

  I traced each letter with my finger before hastily jotting it on a notepad beside me.

  Gaelic words, I knew few but recognised the first two instantly. Jamie used the first one when he slipped his ring on my finger. My bhean, my wife. The second he regularly used when talking about Willie. Mo Mhac, my son.

  I grabbed my phone from the table and typed in the last two, tears flowing down my cheeks when the translation popped up on the screen.

  Mo bhean

Mo mhac

Mo h-uile rud.

Na dìochuimhnich

  My Wife, My Son, My everything, don’t forget.

#ourson #outlander fanfic

[tokidokitokyo]

It’s summer! And even though I work full time, I want to be sure to make some time to read books. I have made my own personal reading list, and I wanted to share it with you. There is a mix of novels in Japanese and English, and manga in Japanese. This is by no means comprehensive but I hope to finish at least these books. If you have any additional novel or manga recommendations please let me know!

夏が来た！社会人なのに、本を読むための時間を作りたいです。自分の夏に読みたい本のリストを作って、皆さんに見せたいと思いました。様々な日本語と英語の小説、後は日本語の漫画がリストに入っています。これしか読まないという訳じゃないけど、このリストの本位読もうと思います。他のおすすめの小説や漫画があれば、是非教えてください！

Novels・小説（しょうせつ）

「１Q８４」（いちきゅうはちよん）     Author: Haruki Murakami (村上春樹)     English Title: 1Q84          Summary: The year is 1984 and the city is Tokyo. A young woman named Aomame follows a taxi driver’s enigmatic suggestion and begins to notice puzzling discrepancies in the world around her. She has entered, she realizes, a parallel existence, which she calls 1Q84 —“Q is for ‘question mark.’ A world that bears a question.” Meanwhile, an aspiring writer named Tengo takes on a suspect ghostwriting project. He becomes so wrapped up with the work and its unusual author that, soon, his previously placid life begins to come unraveled.     My note: I’ve read this in English and I loved it, but now I will challenge myself by reading it in Japanese. It was originally published as 3 separate volumes in 6 books (each volume has a part 1 and part 2).

「犬と私の10の約束」（いぬとわたしのじゅうのやくそく）    Author: Hare Kawaguchi (川口晴)     English Title: 10 Promises to My Dog         Summary: This is the story of Akari Saito and her dog named Socks. The pair supported each other as they grew up together. This story is closely tied to "The Ten Commandments of Dog Ownership", a list of ownership rules written from a dog's point of view.     My note: This sounds like a tear jerker, but I honestly bought it because of the adorable Golden Retriever puppy on the cover. This is another novel for Japanese practice, but there’s a movie too.

The Catcher in the Rye    Author: J.D. Salinger     Japanese Title: 「ライ麦畑でつかまえて」（らいむぎばたけでつかまえて）         Summary:  The hero-narrator of The Catcher in the Rye is an ancient child of sixteen, a native New Yorker named Holden Caulfield. Through circumstances that tend to preclude adult, secondhand description, he leaves his prep school in Pennsylvania and goes underground in New York City for three days. The boy himself is at once too simple and too complex for us to make any final comment about him or his story. Perhaps the safest thing we can say about Holden is that he was born in the world not just strongly attracted to beauty but, almost, hopelessly impaled on it.     My note: I wanted to read this because it is famous for being banned in US schools, but other than that I had no idea what it was about. After some light research I found out that it was banned for being about Communism and that there is a theme of teenage rebellion. So this is part of my effort to read books that are famous in the US.

Good Omens     Japanese Title: 「グッド・オーメンズ」         Summary: According to The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch (the world's only completely accurate book of prophecies, written in 1655, before she exploded), the world will end on a Saturday. Next Saturday, in fact. Just before dinner.So the armies of Good and Evil are amassing, Atlantis is rising, frogs are falling, tempers are flaring. Everything appears to be going according to Divine Plan. Except a somewhat fussy angel and a fast-living demon—both of whom have lived amongst Earth's mortals since The Beginning and have grown rather fond of the lifestyle—are not actually looking forward to the coming Rapture.And someone seems to have misplaced the Antichrist . . .     My Note: My friend recommended this book, and the summary got my attention. I also found out there’s a series on Amazon Prime.

Manga・漫画（まんが）

「黒崎くんの言いなりになんてならない」（くろさきくんのいいなりになんてならない）     Author: Makino (マキノ)     English Title: Defying Kurosaki-kun (lit. I won’t become subservient to Kurosaki-kun)        Summary: Kurosaki is nicknamed "Kuro Akuma" (Black Devil) and is feared by his peers. He demands Yu's "absolute obedience." On the other hand, Takumi, Kurosaki's best friend, is adored by girls and is called "Shiro Oji" (White Prince). He is very warm and kind to Yu. The two boys treat Yu in opposite ways. This is the story of a love triangle but also of friendship.     My note: This is not a profound manga series by any means, but it’s funny and it drew me in when I picked it up in Japan last year. It’s classified as a romantic comedy shōjo manga series, but has some overt sexual overtones. I will be reading volume 12 only as I’ve already read the other 11.

「思い、思われ、ふり、ふられ」（おもい、おもわれ、ふり、ふられ）      Author: Io Sakisaka (咲坂伊緒)     English Title: Omoi, Omoware, Furi, Furare (lit. Loving, being loved, rejecting, being rejected)          Summary: Yuna Ichihara is in the spring before her first year of high school and is pained to be separated from her best friend Sacchan who is moving away. On her way to the train station, she is stopped by a random girl who asks her for money for her train fare. Although Yuna is somewhat afraid and reluctant, she gives the girl money, who in turns give Yuna her bracelet as a promise she will meet her tomorrow to pay her back. On the same day, Yuna runs twice into a boy who looks like the idolized prince of her childhood. After the girl, named Akari, returns Yuna's money, they head home together only to find out that they live in the same apartment building. The girls instantly become friends. However, they find that they explore love in completely different ways, and Yuna may be in love with Akari's brother and Akari in love with Yuna's childhood friend.     My note: This is a really cute shōjo manga series (I have a manga type) that is well written with some interesting twists and turns. The author has written many other famous shōjo manga series such as Ao Haru Ride/Blue Spring Ride and Strobe Edge. I will be reading volumes 9, 10, 11, and 12 as I was waiting for the final volume of the series to be published in June. There are plans for an anime movie and a live action movie in 2020.

「 月刊少女野崎くん 」（げっかんしょうじょのざきくん）     Author: Izumi Tsubaki (椿いづみ)     English Title: Monthly Girls’ Nozaki-kun         Summary: High school student Chiyo Sakura has a crush on schoolmate Umetarō Nozaki. When she confesses her love to him, he mistakes her for a fan and gives her an autograph. When she says she wants to be with him, he invites her to his house and has her help on some drawings. Sakura discovers that Nozaki is actually a renowned shōjo manga artist working under the pen name Sakiko Yumeno. She agrees to be his assistant in order to get closer to him. As they work on his manga Let's Fall in Love (恋しよっ Koi Shiyo, Let's Have a Romance), they encounter other schoolmates who assist them and/or serve as inspirations for his stories.      My note: I’ve watched the anime series in January, and my husband bought me the complete series (except the 10th volume) for Valentine’s Day. Life got in the way and I haven’t read it yet, but I am ready to binge read it now. This is an ongoing shōjo manga series but I feel like it doesn’t flow like a typical shōjo manga, exaggerating some typical character types and making fun of the genre while telling an engaging story.

#日本語 #japanese #japanese language #japanese langblr #langblr #studyblr #小説 #漫画 #おすすめ本 #夏に読みたい本 #summer reading list #Japanese novels #English novels #manga #my summer reading list #tokidokitokyo #tdtbooks #tdtrandom #tdtphoto #1q84 #犬と私の１０の約束 #the catcher in the rye #good omens #kurosaki kun no iinari ni nante naranai #omoi omoware furi furare #monthly girls' nozaki-kun

[narumippi]

a cup of coffee and a whole amount of concentration

made me type a nosaka yuuma + mikado anna oneshot

good Lord

Title: Fireworks

Characters: Nosaka Yuuma/Mikado Anna

    Arriving thirty minutes earlier at the place was a little too much. Normally, ten minutes would have been fine. However, she arrived earlier than she thought.

     Her long, light orange hair tied up into a neat bun. With a few front locks of her hair swept to the side. Thanks to a friend of hers, who also helped her out in decorating her hairstyle. Adding simple golden pins on the sides of the bun and even placing a few small gems for the finishing touch.

    The female wore a red wine kimono, which had leaves and cherry blossoms painted all over the fabric in golden stitches. Emphasizing the intricate and beautiful patterns of her clothes. Matched with a light gray obi that was wrapped around her waist. Overall, she looked stunning.

     Mikado Anna decided to gamble.

    Whether or not Nosaka would come, she still came.

    What was the purpose of all this? She would ask herself numerous times as she made her way forward. Taking small steps as she squeezed herself between the crowd of noisy teenagers.

    Nosaka Yuuma is her rival. An opponent of theirs. The enemy they should keep watch of.

    Yet there she was, meeting him privately.

    Remembering the words that Nosaka told her the day before, it only made her regret coming to the place. Mikado didn’t even know why she decided to invite the guy, but to her, it felt like it was the right moment. Not to confess, but to prove him something. At first, the guy simply stared at her with those same lifeless gray optics of his. Perhaps he was slightly surprised? Or was it because he didn’t know how to respond to her sudden invitation. Then, the male let out a light chuckle and made another comment about her having a crush on him. However, this time, he was pretty convinced that Mikado certainly has feelings for him even if she was still trying to figure that one out.

    In the end, Nosaka gave out an honest answer. One that got her thinking.

    I won’t make any promises.

   He said and left.

   Understandable. Given that Nosaka has his own priorities. Especially being the captain of Outei Tsukinomiya. A popular icon for most soccer players around the country. A student who is being educated by the Scales of Ares.

   From then on, Mikado felt a heavy weight on her chest. As if she just got rejected. Half of her expected that this would happen. So even after hearing that reply of his, at least, it didn’t hurt that much. Only a little.

   Just then, she heard a loud siren coming from afar, somewhere around the beach.

   “Five minutes until the fireworks competition commences.”

    Said the voice, echoing all throughout the place. People began making their way to the beach where they tried to find a comfortable place for themselves. Some even brought a few picnic baskets, fans and even a mat good for two people to sit on. They came prepared.

    Mikado stood there and waited. Staring at the night sky above her. Darkness coated the entire sky with faint, glowing dots. Her sapphire blue hues followed one star from another until she saw a shooting star. Her eyes widened, shocked to actually see one.

    “One minute.” The voice echoed once more.

     Mikado blinked twice. Her locks being blown away by the cold breeze.

    “What did you wish for?” A voice asked, coming from her side.

    She was too concentrated on the shooting star that she failed to recognize that someone was already standing right beside her. A boy with vibrant red locks and gray eyes that stood a few feet taller than her. Wearing a black long sleeve shirt paired with his casual everyday jeans and a pair of sneakers.

    Nosaka Yuuma’s eyes were glued to the dark sky. The half-crescent moon that was shining above them both.

    Mikado was taken aback. Eyes widened while her head turned to face him. Her expressions said it and disbelief was written all over her face. It didn’t even take Nosaka to figure out what her reaction would be.

    “Let me guess,” This time, the red-haired emperor faced Raimon’s manager. Locking his eyes on those icy blue optics of hers. The corners of his lips tugging into a tiny, mischievous smirk. “You wished for me to come here.”

    “Nosaka-kun.” Unable to say anything else.

    Mikado shut her eyes and lightly shook her head. Quite thankful that they were meeting at night and not in daylight. Hiding the faint blush that just formed on her cheeks was easy. Effortlessly turning her head slightly to the side as she added, “Sadly, you got it wrong.”

    “Mind sharing it with me?”

    “Only if you’re willing to tell yours.”

    “I didn’t wish for anything.”

    “I never thought Outei’s emperor would be this bad at lying.”

    “Wishes are for the weak. For those who only rely on chances, opportunities, and miracles. As for me, I plan to make everything that I want—a reality.”

    That was the difference between them. Just then, Mikado felt the gap that drew them both apart. The line that signified that they have different beliefs and opinions.

    “I’d like to call myself as an opportunist.”

    “Are you, Mikado-san?”

    Obviously, she thought to herself. That was the reason why she invited Nosaka to come here.

    “Let’s just say, I’m not afraid of taking chances.” She replies.

    “A risk-taker, then? You don’t seem like one to me.”

    “I just asked the captain of our opposing team to come with me to the summer festival. Is that what you call playing it safe, then?”

    This time, Nosaka was unable to say a word.

   Suddenly, a whistle-like sound was heard. A tiny dot swiftly moving all the way up towards the center of the vast sky. Then, there was a loud explosion. An array of bright yellow lights moving in spiral motions that transformed into glowing white raindrop-like crystals. Illuminating the darkness in a matter of seconds.

   Both Nosaka and Mikado were still staring at each other. Waiting for whoever would speak up. However, after hearing the sound of the starting fireworks, they both turned their heads and looked up at the sky. Awed by the incredible sight that was right before them.

   It only appeared for a few seconds, however, it felt like time itself froze for that very moment. Then the gradation of colors soon faded away.

    As soon as it disappeared, another shot of fireworks exploded into the sky. Light blue sparkles overlapped with striking red circles that blended together that before it faded away, for a sixteenth of a second, it seemed like the colors blended together. Making a huge, lavender oval-shaped disk leaving the spectators awestruck.

   Then another appeared. Then another. Like a domino effect.

   “I wanted you to see this.” Mikado spoke while her eyes were still staring up at the sky.

   Now, it became clear. Why she invited Nosaka to come by. So that he could also see this sight. The colors that gave life to the dark, endless sky. The different shades and how each of them stood out from the rest. Each second, leaving you breathless and eagerly waiting for the next to come. That stark contrast between light and darkness and how they both complemented each other.

   “You told me earlier that wishing is for the weak. Well, I’m not denying the fact that I am one. I can’t even dribble or make a goal like you, Nosaka-kun. I’m not as strong as you are.

   But it doesn’t hurt to believe. To have a little hope. Even if it’s just a fraction of a whole, I’m still willing to take that chance.

   That is why I wished for you to be better, Nosaka-kun. I’m willing to bet on that small ounce of hope, that you’ll get through this.”

   It felt good to actually let everything out. For Mikado to tell him the truth. She felt like crying, but at the same time, laughing. Glad that Nosaka came and also a little disappointed that the night isn’t going to last forever. Mikado knew deep inside that the fireworks were about to end. When it does, everything will be set back to where it was.

   So Mikado turned and faced him. Flashed him one of her brightest smiles as a tear formed in the corner of her eye. It slowly trickled down to her cheek. But before it could even reach her jawline, she felt a hand touch her skin. Nosaka extended his arm and wiped the tear with his forefinger.

   “You’re not the only one who wants to believe, Mikado-san.”

#for those who are interested #please give it a read #jfc #this is waht happens when I watch too much inazuma eleven #inazuma eleven #inazuma #ares #nosaka yuuma #mikado anna #someone pls tell me their shipname #raimon #outei #katrie's posts

[autodiscothings]

LI Asks

Wanted to do this without being asked, so did it! For my Surly Boy and his Socialite, since I need to get a handle on them before they turn into angst muffins. I know some who follow are interested in the “ship” side of things, so I’ll share here too. Tiny bit spoilerish.

For the couple:

1. What drew your character to their LI and vice versa?

They were both bystanders standing in the shadows of literal heroes, and had a shared secret history neither could talk about before without the other person completely understanding everything.

2. What was the first moment that they knew they were in love with their LI?

Kolyat fell in love first believe it or not. She was talking about genetics and how they mean shit, that nurture rules over nature; he stopped seeing the alien and saw the person. That, and her butt looked nice in her wiggle dress.

3. When they are having a fight, what is it about and how do they deal with it?

Avoid the other and distant themselves. Distract with work.

4. Their favorite physical feature on each other?

He likes her eyes and her thighs and her voice. The Lawson genetically perfect booty is top tier too, obviously.

She likes his shoulders and his scales and yes, that chin. His eyes amuse her now, whereas before they unnerved.

5. How do they comfort each other when they are sad?

Ori is more demonstrative with affection and touching. Kolyat likes it to a point. He’ll make her tea and leaves it next to her, and will hold her hand awkwardly and try to talk through her problems like it’s a case to solve.

6. Who is the big spoon?

Oriana. Kolyat doesn’t like hair in his face when he’s hugging her.

7. Favorite date activity?

The only thing they can tolerate together is ballet (of all things) and vids. Food is tricky; Kolyat is a man who will eat over the sink if he has to, but likes to indulge in fried trash which Oriana is okay with. 

She has dragged him to fancy sushi joints, to which he secretly enjoyed but bitched about the money. “400 credits for three pieces? Honestly Oriana, that’s my entire food budget for the month.”

8. What are their most prominent memories of each other? 

It’s the same:

“I’ll remember her looking over her shoulder at me, always one step ahead. She is always smiling, always.”

“He was scowling at other passengers, waiting for me at the docks. And when he saw me he smiled. I laughed at the time, couldn’t help it. He asked me what was funny, and was annoyed I couldn’t explain why.”

9. How open are they with their feelings?

They’re getting better but Kolyat is still a bottler. Oriana gets upset to the point of tears and is angry that she’s crying, but wants to explain why she’s upset in precise words.

10. Do they have pet names for each other?

‘Ori’ is a nonsense syllable word in Kolyat’s mothertongue, so he has plenty. Oriden. Ma’tori. Tunorien. Orishen is his favourite- it means fish dumpling. White, wobbly balls usually eaten on sticks. He pats her tits and calls them that. (Such a romantic.)

He’s just Kol to her. If she’s being snippy he gets called “darling” or “sweetheart.”

11. Do they have any inside jokes?

Plenty. Fish the Cat has an entire backstory written by them both, where she helps solve crime as a caped crusader, and is in fact Blasto’s secret love child.

12. Do they have similar goals? If they clash, how do they deal?

No. And this is what worries me as their writer. Oriana is getting fed up of Citadel life and probably will only last a few more years before she wants to see stars in the sky and breathe in fresh air. Kolyat loves his damn Ward and job too much.

13. How do they react at being away from each other?

He misses her terribly and will say this to her, but usually in an inept way. She’s never far from his thoughts; in Disconnect he uses memories of Oriana as mental treats to get him through the day.

She will sleep in an old shirt of his, and send him more emails than usual.

14. Is their anything they associate with each other?

Kolyat on Ori: music, violins, make up, tea, tulips, expensive shoes, piles of mess. Pale skinned humans will sometimes trigger a memory. Blue skies.

Oriana on Kol: cats, trivia vids, C-Sec, smell of leather, smell of his scale cleaner.

15. How do they think each other sees the other, and is this different from their own view of themselves?

Oriana understands C-Sec is important, but thinks he’s more than just a cop. Kolyat can see through the smiling “darling-” air kiss “-thank you for coming your donation is so important” falsities Oriana puts on.

16. Jealous at all?

Oddly, no. Kolyat knows Oriana can handle herself and will come back to him. In fact you know what? He finds it hilarious when humans are disgusted he’s with her; he’s happy to lean against the bar and have the place watch her saunter. 

On the other hand Oriana’s had worse experiences with jealousy from others, which Kolyat feels a bit guilty over. Aliens with drell have a certain wild child “party” reputation thanks to the after effects of venom, especially humans.

Drell in general don’t think too kindly to those dating outside their own kind- something you do in your youth, but you best settle down with your own sort young man, and soon. There’s only half a million of us, you know.

17. Their ways of expressing their love.

Kolyat is practical, but he will buy the occasional “saw this thought of you” gift. Oriana’s is also gift based, but she is more quick to tell him she loves him.

18. Is their any way they disappoint each other?

His bottling of emotions.  Choosing work over her. Oriana’s occasional slip into rich girl privilege annoys him- money can’t solve everything, and not every problem can be patched over.

19. Describe how they communicate

Badly. Better in person than in email/vid form, though. There are no distractions facing each other.

20. Did either person change at all, to be with their partner?

Yes. Both are less selfish.

For the creator

21. Personally, do you think they are a good couple?

Yes and no. He loves her, but he also loves work. She loves him, but also wants a life off the Citadel. 

She’s also human- Oriana will live longer than him, probably twice as long thanks to her fancy genetics. They’re both in their 20s now, but are approaching four years together; the subject of building a life somewhere has to come up soon.

22. From the outside looking in, what is their dynamic like?

Oriana is straight up told by Kolyat’s friends (aka his work colleagues) regularly how in the universe did he end up with her, he is punching well above his weight there. Oriana’s friends see the devotion Kolyat has, but find him odd; he’ll drop by her office for lunch sometimes, but he’s seen as polite but distant.

23. Did you tailor your OC for the other in the romance?

Nah it just kind of happened. I based my Oriana on 50s Hollywood glamour icons, where dames were feisty and their lipstick never smeared. I’m still not sure how that happened, let’s blame the detective noir feel of Disconnect.

24. Is their any moment that happens between them that you know happens and just makes you melt?

He holds her and hums ‘you are my sunshine’ sometimes. She has a little creepy musicbox on her shelf that plays it, and one day Kol touches it- it plays, Oriana breaks down, explaining the significance of sunshine (Oriana means golden dawn.) So he hums it to her -albeit badly- when she’s feeling sad.

25. Share any headcanons about their relationship.

Since I know someone is probably thinking it: yes they do and often, (oh hi Mark) and neither will go beyond the silk tie stage of kink. Kolyat’s venom is countered with meds, though at this point Oriana is immune thanks to good ol’ human adaptability and self-induced Mithridatism. 

She’ll still get the occasional mild rash, usually on her chest. Gone after a hot shower and expensive cream she had made (because the pharmacy one smelt disgusting.)

26. How important is the romance in your their overall story?

It’s Kolyat’s first real relationship and the first woman he loved outside of his mother- so very. It’s Oriana’s first ‘proper’ boyfriend too, the one where she is considering getting a place with.

Essentially both are that First Serious Relationship most people have in their 20s, the first person you live with, etc.

27. What makes you excited about their relationship?

Seeing what I can throw at them and how far they can bend. Looking forward to writing them in the same room at some point, rather than memories.

28. Is their any similarities to your character’s relationship to one you have had IRL?

Kolyat’s somewhat practical approach to romance is from my Swedish beau. “Do you really want a Christmas present? If we wait until the sales I can get you something bigger.”

How they met I based on a girl I fell in love with in my 20s. The first day we met we walked all from Waterloo to Shoreditch, just talking.

29. What are your favorite moments that happen between them?

How they met, which I know and you don’t.

30. How does their love change as they get older?

My mind goes … when I plan their relationship beyond three years of where they are now, so who knows.

31. Share anything you would like about the couple

I want them to stay together, but unsure if they will.

…christ this is depressing. I should go do Dixon/Cam now to cheer myself up.

#Kolyat Krios #asks and prompts #oriana Lawson #Disconnect

[ecotone99]

[RF] Passengers

I.

I opened my eyes to the sound of my phone. I turned to my nightstand and picked it up. You would think hearing the same series of beeps and buzzes throughout the day, every day, would eventually dull the excitement of the next notification, but the hope that the next one will bring me happiness with that message I’ve always been waiting for seems to be enough to keep me hooked. Text, from Jeff. “Did you hear anything about the new job? Tell me as soon as you find out!!” Email. “Dear Applicant!” it began. Glad they went out of their way to personalise this for me. “We are pleased to officially offer you the position of Vice President at our company! Below are the details of your offer, including our outstanding benefits, as well as the details of your relocation to San Diego.” This was it. The message I was hoping for. The message of happiness. 3 months of interviews and waiting had finally paid off. I had spent the last 5 years since college working my way up through different positions and companies to get to this point. Each new position I had had seemed like the “one” at the time, yet somehow they all eventually left me wanting more. How could I have let myself get fooled by these recruiters? Each with their promises of glory and purpose. Each ending the same. This time was different. This was a top position at a top firm, meaning money and perks. I would be in San Diego. The sun, the women, the beaches, the food. I had spent far too long surviving the winters in Chicago. How did it never bothered me when I was a kid? I’ve spent my whole life here, but only recently have the hard conditions been on my mind. This is something I could fix. Everything will be better.

II.

I was immediately struck by the energy of the bustle as I walked through the doors of the airport. Being surrounded by people in motion, each going their own way, but none as important as mine. Mine was the most life changing, and knowing that made me stand a little taller. I turned to face my parents, who insisted on parking the car and walking inside with me. “Well, I guess this is it” I said nervously. I knew an emotional moment was upon us, which I was not looking forward to. “Remember the golden rule” said my dad stoically as we shook hands. That’s it? Is he that indifferent to me leaving? Does he not actually care? “Oh, my boy” began my mom. This was going to be hard to stand through. She stopped herself from continuing as she felt the tears coming, so I went in for a hug. Better to get this over with as quickly as possible, and to save her from more pain. I pulled away and looked at her as she brought her hand over her mouth. She was always so protective over us. Always worrying. I deeply respected and cared about my parents, but I felt like they never understood my motives. They grew up in a different time, in poverty, on the farms in Eastern Europe, they couldn’t have understood what I was going through. This was my journey to success and happiness.

III.

“Boarding for flight A34 to San Diego will begin in 5 minutes” called the attendant. I glanced up from my ebook towards the gate as the crowd started to gather. I caught the stare of a little boy wearing a blue backpack and red cap holding his big sisters hand and gave him a half smile, which made him quickly turn towards her in embarrassment. If only he knew that he was in the best time of his life. Every step for him was an embraced unknown, not worrying if what’s coming next is good or bad. He acts purely on instinct, shaped by the teachings of his parents and by the experiences he’s lived. As he is led by instinct, we adults seem to be led by other forces. At what point have we traded the trust of this instinct for the trust of other people, like the “experts” in all areas we find online? Where this boy cries when he’s hungry, I’m forced to feel hunger at the time of day for the amount of calories given to me by the current fad diet. Where he reaches for the toy in the store that excites his curiosity, I reach for the newest smartphone to display on my belt so that others can see it. Would I not feel the same hunger as him if I simply waited for that feeling? Should I not reach for the things that excite my curiosity? Where else would our instinct lead us if we just let it? My phone buzzed with a text message. Without changing my glance my hand went right for my pocket. Haven’t I already recieved my life changing notification? Why am I still immediately reaching for my phone?

IV.

“Good evening!” said the flight attendant as I boarded the plane. “Hey” I replied as I walked past her. She was wearing a navy jacket and skirt, which did a good job of showing her figure, with her blonde hair tied in a not so neat bun. She did her smiling with her eyes more than with her mouth, which made me feel like I already had someone I could trust on this flight. I was hoping she would be working in my section. I continued walking through first class to make it to my seat, looking at the different characters who felt it was worth spending twice the amount of a regular ticket to arrive at the same place. One man in particular caught my eye, businessman rather, who already had his laptop out, phone up to his cheek, sprouting a sharp suit and glass of dark liquor. He seemed to be completely engulfed with what he was doing, using a voice anyone would deem as being an outdoor voice, smiling neither with his eyes nor mouth. “Ok, let’s go through the presentation again, we need to be completely prepared for this. Half million dollar account potential here.” he yelled. The word “million” attracted other nearby glances. Money, success, here it was. Half of the motivation for my move. What was it about this man, this image, that drew the attention of so many people? Watching this man yell at his laptop was like a form of entertainment, but was the businessman entertained? Not able to sit in peace, needing liquor to settle the stress of potentially botching a presentation with a prospective customer, always on the move. How many other people’s jobs depended on this presentation, on meeting sales quotas and revenue forecasts? This man was so focused on what he was doing, I doubt he noticed a single other soul on this flight. What a lonely man this must be.

V.

As I reached my seat, I hoisted my carry-on up into the compartment, felt my pocket to make sure I didn’t crush my cigarettes, and took my seat. I knew smoking wasn’t allowed on flights, but I wasn’t the biggest fan of flying, and for some reason just having my cigarettes on hand was comforting enough. I was beyond tired of everyone I knew telling me to stop smoking. Everyone knows smoking isn’t healthy, but this just wasn’t the right time for me to quit. I wasn’t ready. New city, new job, I needed them now more than ever. Once I became comfortable in my new life, then I’d stop. I plugged my headphones into my armrest and found a rock album I listened to as a teenager on the infotainment system. I had the aisle seat, and so far the other two seats in my trio were empty. I hoped it would stay that way so that I could lay down and have them all to myself. I sat there staring into space, getting into the music, when about halfway through the first song I saw red in my peripherals. It was that same boy from before, stopped in the aisle right in front of me. I saw hands on his shoulders and looked up, to see his father. I removed my right headphone. “We’ve got these two” he said. I stood up to let them through. The boy took an enthusiastic jump into the middle seat next to me, while the father was removing his own backpack to put under the seat in front of him. Unfortunately, the boy was still wearing his blue backpack when he got into his seat, crushing whatever little he fit in there. The father moved ever so calmly, removing his son’s backpack to put under the middle seat in front of him, not even giving a thought to see what broke inside. It was as if the boy was fueled off of his fathers energy, leaving him with none. Perhaps that’s why Chicago winters didn’t phase me at his age. Whatever energy I needed to ignore the cold I took from my parents, leaving me nothing but to enjoy the good parts and leaving them with worse winters than I’ve ever felt. Why am I blaming the weather for my source of unhappiness then, when it’s so much harder for others and yet they don’t leave? Is a never ending summer not the answer? I thought about Jeff and his text, always excited to hear what I’m doing. I thought about my mom, always so happy to see me every time I visit. When once I was drawing energy from her, is she now drawing energy from me? Do we not do that with each of our friends and family? Who then will I have in a never ending summer to draw from when the heat of the sun draws the energy from me?

VI.

Bing, Bong. I heard a faint voice mix with the song I had on. Normally the infotainment would mute on its own, but I guess I had a broken one. “...this is your Captain speaking. I would like to welcome you aboard our flight A34 to San Diego. Looks like we’ll have calm weather the entire way, so sit back, relax, and let us take care of you” said the voice. “Aye Aye, Captain!” said the boy next to me. Aye Aye, Captain. I was glad we wouldn’t be seeing any turbulence on the way. The crew took care of the other formalities, and we were in the air after a short while. I was back into my music when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Navy. I took my right headphone out again and saw the flight attendant from when I entered the plane. “Hello again” She said. “Would you like something to drink?”. “Oh, um, no thank you. I’m good.” I stuttered. “Well how would you know when you still have the other headphone in your left ear? There’s no way you can be listening to me and the music at the same time.” She said. “Sorry, you’re right” I said, as I took my other headphone out. “What’s your name?” she asked. “Nate. What’s yours?” I replied. “Beth. Nice to meet you Nate. Are you from San Diego?” she asked me. “No, I grew up in Chicago, but I’m moving there. Just got a new job, but I’ve been thinking maybe I’m doing it for the wrong reasons. After seeing that guy in first class, I’m not sure that life is for me.” I explained to her. “Oh ya?” she mocked. Her light-heartedness snapped me out of the deep thought I was in. She went on to explain “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, but you shouldn’t compare yourself to anyone else. We all have our assigned seat on this plane, you just need to make the best out of yours. Now, about that drink, I know exactly what you need. It’ll be a surprise.” She bent down out of sight to fetch something from the cart, poured it into a styrofoam cup, and handed it to me. I didn’t get a chance to see what she poured. “What is this?” I asked her. “The only way for you to really know is to try it for yourself” She said with a smirk. I looked down and took a sip. It was hot chocolate. I don’t remember a drink ever making me feel that warm. I turned back to thank her, but she was already making her way down the aisle.

VII.

Bing, Bong. With no music playing I was able to hear the Captain. “Ladies and Gentlemen, looks like we’ve run into a slight mechanical issue. Nothing to be alarmed about, but we will need to make an emergency landing in Denver. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to take off again, so all passengers will need to deboard. We’re terribly sorry for the inconvenience.” I looked down the aisle to see the business man throw his hands up in frustration, laptop still glowing. Past him was Beth, who met eyes with me, and gave me a smile and wave, which I returned. I sat back in my seat and closed my eyes.

VIII.

I awoke in a panic. I felt the sensation of the plane being in a nose dive. I didn’t know what was going on. I started looking around, and noticed everyone was in a panic, even the businessman. He was looking at the passengers around him for any sort of help. I guess this is what it took for him to notice them. Everyone, that is, except for an elderly man who was sitting in the seat just across the aisle from me. He had some playing cards thrown around his tray. He was looking back at me, smiling. What is wrong with this old man? Why is he just sitting there look at me? My mind was racing. My anger shifted from the old man to the Captain. Did the Captain fall asleep and forget about us? He said calm weather, that implies no turbulence. What is going on? The old man saw my anxiety and leaned closer. “There’s no use being angry unless you’re able to fly the plane yourself. And since you can’t, might as well be happy and join me in a game. The Captain knows what he’s doing.” At that moment the plane leveled out. Everyone slowly calmed down, while the old man started dealing the cards. That awful moment, which at the time felt like an eternity, was now a fleeting memory. During our game I thought back to my father’s words at the airport. Instead of emotion, he gave me the golden rule. He knew there was nothing within his power to stop me from leaving, just as this old man knew there was nothing we could do with the plane. If all we have in our control is the way we treat each other in the bad times, what else would we have in the good times?

IX.

The fasten seatbelt sign turned off as we pulled up to the gate in Denver. Everyone stood up and started collecting their bags. I was struck by the bustle of the passengers in motion, each going their own way, all as important as mine. Learning that made me stand a little taller. As I approached the exit, I saw the cockpit door open and the Captain sitting in his chair. He had turned to face the aisle, but the lower half of his face was blocked by his chair. As I walked past, I gave him a head nod, and I saw his eyes narrow in return. I stepped out into the jet bridge, feeling the cold air hit my face. I walked up to a garbage can just a few steps ahead of me, reached in my pocket, grabbed my cigarettes, and threw them in. I was not comfortable in life, and it felt good. It was a perfect time to stop. I continued down the bridge towards the terminal, every step an embraced unknown.

X.

I opened my eyes to the sound of my phone. I must have fallen asleep again. I turned to my nightstand to pick it up. Text, from Jeff. “Well??” Email. “Dear company” I began. “I regret to inform you that I will not be taking the position…”

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