#but i just wanted to illustrate how long she’s known him now

[princessanneftw]

1987/2024 - Tim Laurence giving Zara Phillips a piggyback at the beach near Sandringham. 37 years later, Sir Tim Laurence hugging his stepdaughter Zara Tindall after she completed the cross country course at the Badminton Horse Trials.

[byeolbeloved]

Letters to Cupid -Kang Yeosang

Pairings> soldier!yeosang x typist!reader

Genre> childhood friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, use of flashbacks, slightly suggestive, setting takes place around 18th century

Summary> for centuries, women named cupids worked as typists to write letters on behalf of senders who couldn't write themselves. You were always the writer but never the receiver for a love letter, yearning to be picked up by a knight. What you didn't expect was for this knight to have a familiar set of eyes, only this time lost from the innocence they once had.

Words from pupa : This fic is inspired by the anime Violet Evergarden! Also note that the writings in small italics are meant to be flashbacks. I had so much fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it <3 The picture is also fanart I made myself hehe so I hope you like that too ^^

The typewriter clicked away, following a warm melody of the woman reminiscing her adventures with the other piece of her that is now battling the screams and horror of man. The warm scenery of her words contrasted the thunderous roars outside. The weather had no mercy on lovers under the moonlight.

"Please tell him I love him and I'll always be waiting for him" the woman said glass eyed. 

She's a gorgeous woman, with light make up and well done hair, although judging from the purple under her eyes you can tell she's had restless nights, tearful even, by her pink nose that was already prominent as she walked through the door. 

You always thought about how hard it must be to have your lover be in the military. You've seen many cases of these couples working as a typist. You had at least 10 letters a day of women writing to their husbands on how badly they miss them, some not knowing their ashes have become part of the land they fight to protect. 

"He will appreciate this letter dearly, Elenor. I will make sure to send it out by Friday" you say with a smile embossing a wax seal on the letter.

"Oh thank you Cupid. I was never good at using the typewriter so when an old friend told me about you I practically came here as fast as I could. It's been a month since he's been away, we've never been separated for this long.." 

"It must be so hard for you both. He'll be just fine El... I see the love in your eyes, he'll come back to them"

Education was a privilege, hence the reason why so many people were illiterate. For centuries women named "Cupids" wrote letters on behalf of senders who weren't able to write to their loved ones themselves or simply didn't know how to express their emotions on paper. It started from a voluntary organisation but has now turned into a whole company, well known throughout the land. 

You were born into the world of literature. Your father was a writer and your mother was a book illustrator. Work being the opening chapter for their own love story. From the moment you were born, books heavily dominated your life. Literally. Because even from the scene of your birth, where your mother delivered you unexpectedly at the house you grew up in, you were wrapped in ripped pages from books- that being the first thing they could grab instead of a blanket at such a chaotic scene of panic. 

You grew up with your mother reading you books and you accompanied your father while he wrote. Although you loved literature, writing your own book wasn't something you saw yourself doing. You much preferred experiencing a realistic event rather than coming up with a story, which is why you fell in love with this job.

You get to write true emotion while hearing another person's story and relationships. And you were clearly good at portraying what people wanted to express as you had tons of people personally asking for you to write for them.

Love; a topic you could rant on and on about. You dreamt about being picked up by a knight, running away from reality just to intertwine in each other's soul.  

However, you weren't such a hopeless romantic as you were very selective with the guys you talked to, let alone dated. No one has ever made you feel like a princess getting saved by the prince. Maybe reality isn't like the books, however, you felt that there must be someone in this lifetime who could make you feel like that.

The night was dark. Dark as the swelling wave of the ocean before the rising winds, when it bends its head near the coast. Rain fell hard against the concrete floor and the wind was so sharp it could cut you. 

The girl shut her eyes, trying to count sheep to calm her heartbeat but the sound of the rain only pictured her sheep drowning in the night alongside her.

"The rain won't get us here" spoke the boy, flashing her a smile that emphasized the pink red mark by his left eye. The red mark he told her was from a kiss from cupid after she pointed out how it looked like a heart. They were under the awning of a closed store.

"The rain is scary Yeosang" she frowned.

"It's only water" he held his hand out to the rain and let it get wet "see? I'm fine" 

"I know but I don't like the noises" 

"Then don't listen to the noises. You can just listen to me" he wiped his wet hand on the side of his pants and grabbed onto hers.

"I will protect you from the rain. I promise I will always hold your hand when it rains Y/N"

“Sorry I’m late, I just finished up with my last client for the day. Did I miss anything?” you place down your coat on the chair back.

“Only Jia swooning over mailman Tony again” Sakura chuckled while sipping her coffee.

“Seriously, when are you going to make a move? He might be single” Maya continued mouthful with a sandwich.

“Oh shush there shall be no romance at work. We have a business relationship and that’s how it’s going to stay. Now let’s get started with the meeting so we can head home before the weather gets worse.” Jia snaps and everyone hides their smiles at her shyness.

“Okay, this meeting is to just remind everyone about plans for next week. We will be accompanying commander Chan- everyone remembers him right? From last year. We will be writing letters for his unit, he has a different unit now. Make sure to pack warm clothes sinc-”

“Since there will be lower temperature in the North” Sakura and Maya said together in a monotone voice. “We’ve done this before Jia we knowww~” Sakura whines.

“Just relax and look out for the hot single soldiers” Maya giggles to Sakura who is now poking at Jia’s side.

“Business! This is business guys! We're going there for work. Plus, these hot guys are depending on us to bring back their messages to their families. No fooling around” Jia makes clear.

Once a year your team will visit military camps to write for soldiers. You’re usually there for 3 days excluding travel. Apart from some of the men being touch starved and looking as if they’ve never seen a woman in their life- most of them are really nice. Last time they even set out a mini farewell and thank you party before your departure.

The crisp sound of snow beneath your feet and cold sensation on your nose definitely woke you up from your nap on the way here. It actually felt quite nice, your surroundings bright from the white snow despite the sun not yet risen and the cold air felt like a splash of water to your face in the early morning. All nice except for the sound of Sakura and Maya’s whines from how their boots weren’t fit for the snow. This is exactly why Jia spent so much time whining about clothing. 

The soldiers shared cabins or tents. You girls too got your own cabin to share- unfortunately quite small so you’ll have to put up with Maya’s snores throughout the night, however big enough for the 4 of you. The main area had its own cabin. That’s where the soldiers mostly hang out and eat. 

As you girls made your way to the main area, commander Chan introduced you to everyone. There seemed to be at least 40 men in there, thankfully all divided into units so it was easier to organise when you’ll be working with who. 

Everyone gave you a warm welcome. You girls spent the first hour chatting with some of them, or you could say flirting for Maya and Sakura, before going into your cabin and unpacking your stuff.

Everyone was really sweet. Two soldiers, a long haired guy with a mole under his eye and another slightly taller than him with a dorito-like physique showed you around the area and let you know the schedule for breakfast, training and lunch. The area was quite open, you could see yourself getting comfortable here as it was very quiet. However, during all this you felt a pair of eyes on you. Though looking around you never saw anyone who could be staring.

“Slow down Yeo! It’s really rocky here” the little girl pants, trying to keep up with the energetic boy in front of her. He’s practically waddling like an excited maltese dog that’s about to get a treat.

“Just a little more, come on!” he grabs onto her hand speeding up her steps, now reaching his pace.

The two youngsters reach the top of the hill, overlooking the dazzling sight of flowers in different shapes and colours spread out across the field. 

The girl lets out a gasp eyes sparkling “This is… what you wanted to show me?”

“What do you think?”

“Yeo this is…. Beautiful” her eyes scan across the field, completely forgetting the distant yelling from her mom she was worrying about 15 minutes ago from why she took so long to get back home after school. 

“It’s gorgeous” says the boy, but he’s not looking at the scenery of flowers. He’s looking directly at her. Swimming in the ocean of her sparkling eyes reflecting the warm colours from the sunset. 

You are gorgeous he thought to himself.

The day was busy. Each unit who was on their breaks got their letters done and even though it was only day one, you managed to get lots done already. It was already pitch black outside and everyone was already tucked into their cabins.

Maybe you were still in work-mode but your body had no intentions to rest as you couldn’t stop tossing and turning in your bunk bed so you decided to take a step outside. You walked over to a corner with bright pink flowers contrasting the white snow, standing tall and so youthful.

“So beautiful…” you whispered, crouching to touch the soft pedals. They look like they have just bloomed. 

“Cyclamen” a deep voice from behind you startles you, letting out a light yelp from you as you turn around quickly. Your yelp almost turns into a loud gasp as you quickly identify the figure owning that deep voice. 

His hair is a light chocolate brown, long enough to be tucked behind his ears but not in a I haven’t thought about cutting my hair type of way- it was well maintained. He was taller than you but not enough so that you’re practically looking up. His body was clearly fit, arm muscles very prominent even from his camo print thick jacket. His skin was pale. So pale it looked like milk. So pale it emphasized the pink mark by his left eye.  

Kang Yeosang.

You had no doubt this was the same boy who used to have thick pitch black hair, sometimes patchy bangs from the self haircut his sister used to give him. The same boy who looked at everyone with sparkly eyes and clapped his hands together when he laughed. 

This was your Kang Yeosang.

“Those flowers are Cyclamen” he said expressionless, hands in his pockets. 

You don’t know if it's the cold air drying your eyes or your overwhelming emotion but you start to feel tears forming, so hot and full of sentiment they almost burn your skin. “Yeosang…?” you whisper but it comes out shaky. 

“They mostly bloom in cold weather” he says, still in the same stance.

“Are there any more flowers around here?” you sniffle out tilting your head.

“I’ve seen snow roses around here before. Would you like to see them with me someday?”

“I’d love to” you said with a smile, now earning a smile from him.

He takes his hands out of his pockets and steps closer to you, pulling you into a hug which you gracefully accept, your arms latching around his neck almost a bit too tight. 

“Hello Y/N” and that's your breaking point. You start sobbing into his chest muffling out I miss yous to which he responds with a hand on your head, caressing it gently. 

“I’m here”

The walk was quiet and heavy. Each step representing minutes lost from each other.

The girl is the first to break the icy silence “can’t you wait at least till next year? We just graduated”

“Y/N this isn’t my choice to make, I don’t have any other choice. It’s what I’m supposed to do” the boy says against his wishes.

“When will I be able to see you again?” the girl now looks at him glass eyed.

“I don’t know” he lowers his head but quickly looks at her holding her hand. “Hey, no matter how long it will take, I will always be here, yea? I promise Y/N”

“Please don’t break that promise Yeo..”

The following days you and Yeosang were practically glued together when you had the time. You caught up on each other's life events and even reminisced about your childhood together. It was almost like you were kids again, except you noticed how serious Yeosang is now.

You don’t expect him to have that same innocence as he had when you were younger. He’s a grown man now and also a soldier. Not a particularly happy go lucky type of job. However, apart from teeth smiles while covering his mouth with his hand, you haven’t heard him laugh yet. You missed it. You missed the days when you both ran around giggling at any little thing. Is that boy you loved, lost?

“But yea, let’s just say leaving a half opened can of soup in a tent for 2 weeks isn’t a great idea” he scratched his head and lightly chuckled.

You laughed at his stories with his cabinmates. So far he has only told you about silly fun stories with his friends, apart from him explaining the basic routine of what they do in training. You were glad he was able to make fond memories as a soldier, especially since you knew how nervous he was joining the military.

But something about you knew that wasn’t all. Has he really been doing well? What about the times he's been in battle? Has he been greatly injured before? Broken a bone maybe? Does he miss his family?

Did he ever think about you?

“Yeo…” you placed your spoon down. The main cabin was far too loud for both of you to have a conversation so you and him chose to stay in his tent for breakfast and dinners. His cabinmates barely stayed there unless it was for sleep so you had all the privacy you wanted. 

“How are you? Really”

“I’m doing well”

“No Yeo, I mean about everything. Do you like it here? Don’t you miss home?”

“Home? Well… Mom occasionally sends letters, I’ve visited sometimes but travel is so long I’d only have a day with them till I have to come back so… I’ve stopped visiting.” How long has it been since he’s had a home cooked meal?

“This definitely isn’t luxury heh, but I’m used to it Y/N. Don’t worry about me, I know what I’m doing here”

“Do you ever think about… me? Us?” immediately his gaze softens to your words. This is probably the first time you’ve seen a genuine expression on his face since being here. His hand is gently placed on your thigh and he brings his face closer to you. 

“Of course Y/N, I told you I’ll always be here. I promised” his eyes burn into your soul and your gaze meets his birthmark. Your finger moves by itself and goes to gently touch it.

“I don’t see you anymore Yeosang… everything is so different”

“I know. It’s hard. This is all very hard but we are going to work this out Y/N” 

Your faces are so close together you can practically taste his breath. His eyes land to your lips and for a second you could see the pupils of his eyes grow. He slowly breaks the space between you and you close your eyes, expecting to feel a touch on your lips  until he breaks off the moment with a whisper “I want to write a letter.”

“I don’t understand thissssss~ let’s just take a break” 

“We’ve already taken 2 breaks. Here, I started the first step for you, now remember what we did for question 6, it’s basically the same thing” the boy hands her the sheet of paper.

“Yeo I appreciate your help but maybe this is a sign from god that I should just give up on Math” the girl slouches on her seat kicking her feet.

“Math isn’t that hard, you just need to focus. Now come on we still have 5 pages left.”

“5 PAGES!? I might as well throw myself off the window” 

“If you finish this in the next hour” he leans in close to her ear “I might give you a kiss” he leans back to his chair with a smug look on his face.

You’d think the girl wore face paint on her face from the deep red that was now formed. Without a word she picks up a pencil and writes away on her paper. 

“Damn you Yeosang”

Some people get frustrated with slow walkers in front of them, slow drivers or even someone talking way too calmly, but the way Yeosang is working the typewriter makes you want to snatch it from him and do the job yourself.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to write the letter for you?” 

“It’s fine I got this” he continues on with his slow pace.

“Who are you writing that letter to anyway?”

“Just someone”

“Who is just someone?”

“A person I know”

 “Who is this person you know?”

“You don’t know them”

“Pleaseee Yeooo~” you lean in closer to him “I’ll give you a kiss if you tell me who” you giggle remembering his little tactic he used to use on you in school.

“Mmmm I’ll think about it” you huff in frustration and he laughs. 

He laughs. 

Your worries of losing the boy you loved dearly completely vanished as you finally see that innocent boy back. His laugh sounded like the doorbell of a childhood house, where kids would run to see if daddy is home. The last bell ring at school, when kids ran home to show mommy what they drew. The sound of the ice cream truck song amplifying as it rolled up from down the street. The clicking sound of riding your first bike, parents cheering in the background for balancing without training wheels.

He sounded like childhood and you felt like a child again. 

In what felt like forever, Yeosang finished his letter. Sealing the paper into an envelope ready to be read by this mystery person you so badly wanted to know. 

“Okay I’ll take it and make sure to send it out. Make sure to write the address.” you reach your hand out but he doesn't move.

“Oh no I want to keep it”

“What?”

“I want to keep the letter.”

“What do you mean? Don’t you want to send it to that person?”

“Not yet.”

 “We can withhold it and send it at any given time you want”

“It’s fine, I’ll send it myself”

Him protecting this letter made you even more curious as to who it was for. Surely he didn’t just write something for fun. Who was this friend? Was it a girl? Or possibly a lover? Surely not. Especially not when he almost just kissed you a while ago. 

He promised. You’re just overthinking. Right?

It was your last day with the soldiers. You only had a couple of letters to finish and by nightfall you and the girls were set off to travel back home. Absolute no bone in your body wanted to go back home. This meant being separated from Yeosang again and you weren’t ready to let him go yet, you only just reunited with him.

“Y/N, you have a visitor waiting” Maya points to the door, only to see Yeosang waiting for you. 

“I have a few more letters to write th-” you’re shushed by Maya when she lightly shoves you out of the room “Don’t worry, we got this, you go enjoy your last moments with lover boy” she whispers the last part although Yeosang surely heard judging by the way he looked away.

“Ooo he’s a shy lover boy too” Maya says before closing the door, you can still hear her giggles through the wall as you’re now left alone with Yeosang.

“Shall we go?” he quietly says. 

“Yeah, where are we going?” 

“You’ll see”

The two of you slowly walk side by side, occasionally bumping the sides of your arms. There isn’t much talking but the silence is comfortable. Almost too comfortable that you forget this is the last time you get to examine his features before the final goodbye for god knows how long it will be again.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when Yeosang hands you a big white flower, a snow rose. “This is the snow rose I told you about” he said with a smile gently handing it over to you.

“Yeos-”

“Marry me Y/N”

What.

Time stops for a second. A long second. Even the birds stop chirping and the wind halts. You aren’t sure what just happened but your heart knows for sure that it’s a big deal as it beats so hard, destined to break out of you and reach his own, intertwining with his and merging into one. 

“What did you say?” you mutter quietly.

In contrast with your tone, Yeosang is confident. His chin is up high, shoulders back and there's a look in his eyes that show no sign of hesitation. 

“I want you to marry me Y/N” he takes a step closer, and another, and another, till you’re now backed up into the rough surface of a tree.

“I’m going to make this work, I’ll find a way to leave this place if I have to but Y/N, I can’t let you go again.” he cups your face gently and swipes his thumb across your cheek “I’m done keeping promises and making you wait, I want to be with you Y/N, only you” he rests his forehead against yours.

“Come home to me Yeosang” you breathe onto his lips before locking them together. 

Your lips dance together so full of passion and need it almost feels as if your bodies are intertwining into one. You feel his small smile through the kiss as you deepen it, locking your hands in his hair while his explores the sides of your body.

Cold air hits your belly as he lifts up your shirt to slide his hand against your skin, caressing your chest. If you weren’t so lost in the kiss you would have noticed that he was practically spelling his name across your chest with his hand movements.

Remembering that you both need to breathe, he’s the first to break the kiss. You’re both a panting mess but he manages you let out a chuckle “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes in every language Yeosang. I will marry you” you smile out taking in his lips once again.

You asked for a rose, but Yeosang gave you a whole garden.  

Two years later

“Tell me Cupid, what should I tell her? I’m so scared. What if she’s waiting for another man?” the man from across you says, blowing his nose into his now 8th tissue in the past 10 minutes.

“Sir Walker, you clearly love her right?”

“Yes! Oh heavens more than anything, I-I’d kill for her, I’d crawl on my knees for he-” he sighs taking a breath “I don’t imagine a life without her”

“Then fight for her” you say softly.

“She’s lands away from me Cupid! How will I be a man to her if I cant even reach for her?”

“Make that happen. You said you would kill and crawl for her. Put actions to your words Sir Walker and show her you love her. You are living in the same lifetime, right here, right now, don’t regret your choices and lose her. She needs to see you fight for her” 

The man breaks down but looks up at you again, composing himself before saying “Have you experienced love Cupid?”

“Everyone experiences love. If not now, one day, just as you wait for love, there is another person waiting for the same. Everyone has someone awaiting them” you softly smile. 

“I’ll do it. Tell her I’m coming to get her. I’m not sure when but from today onwards, she will be my focus” the man lets out a broken smile. Broken yet mendable.

“She will be waiting for you Sir Walker” you say before typing away, a paragraph that awaits a new chapter for the couple.

Your night ends with that heartfelt love story. You hope the best for the couple and your heart nearly breaks with his as you also can’t help but think about your person you are waiting for. 

The weather outside is mean. Almost in hopes of drowning man in its rage. The thunder roars and you’re left counting sheep in your head- something you’ve been doing ever since you were a kid to calm down. 

As you’re walking out of the building Jia calls you from behind “Y/N you have a letter!”

She runs up to you and hands you the letter. “Who is this from?” you ask as you’ve never received a letter before. 

“Hm not sure” she looks into a room, clearly distracted by something, or someone as you look at the direction only to see the famous mailman who has been working here years before you joined the company- Tony.

“Um yea I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N I gotta go, bye! Let me know who that letter is from!” she says from a distance practically skipping her way to Tony,

You don't get the chance to even reply to her before she's gone. You look at the letter and there is no address to indicate where it was sent from, which could only mean this letter must have been dropped off by the sender here at the company.

You walk out the building, still sheltered from the awning covering you. Your steps are heavy, unable to move.

It's fine Y/N let's take this slow you thought to yourself deciding to just stand there for a while before making your way home.

You curiously open the letter and start reading it;

Dear Y/N,

How are you? I am writing this letter to you while you are right next to me. I hope you’re not mad about almost kissing you and asking to write a letter instead. It’s just that I wanted to capture my feelings towards you at this given moment, so we can hopefully both look back at this letter.

You asked me if I liked it here. I don’t. I hate the feeling of knowing every movement I make can be my last, and that I won’t be able to say my final goodbye to you. I hate that I go to sleep at night, responsible for another lost man from his lover. I wish I could be able to come home from work and tell you about my day. But what can I tell you? About how many screams I heard? How bloody my hands are after every battle? 

You asked me if I think about you. My answer is yes. Painfully yes. I always think about what you could be doing at any time. If you found yourself love. I worry everytime it rains, do you have anyone to hold your hand during thunderstorms? I force myself to repeat your voice in my head because I’m so afraid of forgetting what you sound like. I always remember about the day I took you to the flower field. You looked so beautiful in that moment. So everytime I find a flower, I make sure to stop and admire it, pretending it’s you. Because to me, you are far more beautiful than any flower out there. 

I will come home to you Y/N. I promised I would be there. I promised to hold your hand. And I will fulfil my promises, even if it means fighting for my life. 

Wait for me my love.

Love,

Yeosang. 

“Damn you Yeosang” you chuckled out, a crack in your voice causing tears to slip out. You look up to the sight of the man in reason for these tears. He’s still wearing his uniform, hat covering half his face. He seems to have gotten bigger in physique too. He drops his hat and you smile widely at the sight of his birthmark, now holding smiling eyes.

“It’s raining” he said, reaching out a hand “I’m here to hold your hand.”

You completely ignore the extended hand and crash your body into his for a tight hug. An embrace with no chance of him slipping out. 

“You came home” you said into his chest.

“I came to stay” 

“And to hold my hand” 

“And to hold your hand” he laughs out.

Yeosang was your childhood. Yeosang is your home.

[diejager]

hi so big fan :D, im terribly obsessed with literally all of your cod fics but oh my god stepdad könig + horangi drives me nuts-

just wanted to throw an idea in your brain because i cant stop thinking about it but imagine if reader used to go braless around the house (because its just her n mom) but after the introduction of 2 new unfamiliar guys in the house she puts on a bra when she leaves her room (but she also forgets sometimes and they call her a tease for it)

With time however, with all the fucking and the constant attention horangi and könig have been giving her nipples, theyre so fucking sensitive she like shudders when they scrape on surfaces on accident (ex. the edge of a table, fabric of her clothes) so she starts wearing a bra all the time to stop that from happening but könig and horangi don't like that so they take ALL her bras-

oh also another idea that popped up but what if reader who usually dresses rather tomboyish/masc also occasionally enjoys wearing very fem/provocative outfits. BUT könig and horangi have only ever seen reader wear masc outfits since theyve known each other. reader still wears her fem outfits but now she wears it under a bulky jacket and baggy jeans and changes out of it in uni/public toilet.

so like one day horangi is out and has to do a double take on reader out in public because they dont recognize them in their outfit (ex. a form-fitting sundress or a mini skirt with sheer tights and cute leg warmers) and he remembers reader leaving the house in something else. fuck i just know könig and horangi are going to get SOOOO many ideas on how to punish reader for that.

any ways thats it from me love ya <3

Hii, I looked at your illustrations and I LOVE them, they’re all so clean and nice.

Cw: DARKFIC, STEPCEST, DUB-CON/NON-CON, smut, size kink, possessive behaviour, delusional, tell me if I missed any.

König used to enjoy stripping you, the act of ripping your bra off and watch your breasts sway from his rough treatment. There was something empowering to it, a show of dominance and possession over you when he could strip you naked under him or watch Horangi straddle you and pull your shirt and bra off, sliding your panties down your thighs. He found pleasure in doing so when you walked around in baggy clothes, hiding your shape and curves from his hungry eyes, it was like unwrapping a long-awaited present that he’d been teased with for so, so long.

If he was especially lucky, he’d find you without a bra, your perky nipples pressing against his chest or peaking under your shirt, two small and hard nubs that tempted him with the prospect of something sweet to bite and suck. He liked admiring them, all swollen and slick with his or Horangi’s saliva, spitting or letting drool fall on your tits while they fucked you, marking your sensitive skin with the indentation of their teeth and dark splotches all across your chest. You always whined about it hurting, pushing them away with frail arms, fighting with weak hits and slow kicks. What you thought would be a deterrent, was fuel to their growing hunger, they were men who liked the fight, the struggle, a prey that wouldn’t fall too easily.

But now, he was growing annoyed that you always wore a bra, like an incessant pest that slowed him down from getting to his prize, even Horangi had complained about it and how intricate your choice of bra straps you bought, all the complicated knots and crosses that made their job much harder than it should when they were pleasuring you. How could you make it so difficult for them? They always made you come, their thick girth splitting you in half and filling you in hot and bitter cum. They tried talking you out of wearing bras, but in your rebellious phase, you glared and ignored their words. There wasn’t much they could do to convince you to stop wearing them, there wasn’t truly anything they could hold against you. So they took them away, making you ask for them if you wanted to wear one and it had to be reasonable.

It seemed that you didn’t like their decision, coming to them for a bra every two day to go out, it left them watching you walk out the door in nothing but jeans, a shirt under your jacket, headphones holding your cap down and a backpack slung over your shoulder, hanging low on your back. It irked him that you always hid your beautiful body, something you should be proud of showing off, but perhaps it was to keep your body for themselves, to dance and writhe in your nude for them only, a treasure that only König and Horangi were privy to. He figured it was something he should be proud of.

Then Horangi told him how he found you in a short skirt and a shirt that rode up your abdomen and showed your pretty bra if you raised your arms, the soft jacket you left home slung around your shoulders, dipping low enough to show your back, but your jeans, shirt and cap were gone, stuffed in the now-filled bag. König couldn’t help but mimic the deep sneer on Horangi’s face, teeth tearing into his lip at your audacity of wearing such promiscuous attire for the world to see and hiding yourself from them. It made them wrathful, a deep-seated anger and envy that boiled until you got home, changed into the same baggy clothes you left with. This warranted a punishment, to teach you a lesson about lying to them and holding out on them. 

“Come here, du scheiß Gör,” König growled, glaring at your shuddering figure. [you fucking brat.]

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess @maylovesyousomuch @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Commander Mayday illustration by @nika6q

A Match for Mayday: Chapter 1

Editor's note: This fic is a collaboration between @nika6q (artwork) and @dystopicjumpsuit (story)

Pairing: Mayday x Flower Farmer Reader 

Rating: T

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings and tags: fluff

A/N: dedicated to @nika6q ❤️‍🩹

Read Chapter 2 here!

Your sister has always had immaculate taste. From her gorgeous flat in a Coruscant high-rise, to the handsome trooper currently staring down at her with adoration in his soft brown eyes as she wraps her arm around his waist, to the selection of high-quality brews in the conservator which you are currently raiding, she has curated a beautiful life for herself. She’s been your best friend since the day she was born, and you couldn’t be happier for her. You didn’t have an easy childhood, and seeing your little sister settled and thriving is everything you had hoped for her during those difficult days. 

Her boyfriend—no, make that fiancé—practically worships her. As you watch them through the sliding glass door, you realize you’ve never seen her look as content as she does in that moment, smiling softly up at Hexx. Unbeknownst to you, an identical smile plays on your own lips as you close the conservator door. Just as you do, a latecomer enters the kitchen, and you turn automatically to greet him, your eyes widening as you take him in. 

He’s a clone, but damn, what a clone. He looks older than Hexx and most of his brothers, though that might be due to his beard and longer hair. He’s tall and solidly built, and even in civilian clothing, he looks imposing. His long sleeves are rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle, with a hint of tattoo ink peeking from the edge of the fabric.

“Hello,” you greet him, that soft smile still in place as you introduce yourself.

“Mayday,” he replies, and his voice is deeper and and more gravelly than you’ve heard from other clones. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

Up close, you can see faint lines around his eyes, and a sprinkle of silver in his hair. Definitely older than Hexx, then. 

“Can I get you a beer?” you offer. “Or are you a whiskey man?”

“A beer sounds great, thanks,” he says, and you hand him the cold bottle you just pulled out of the conservator. His fingers brush against yours, soft and warm, and his eyes follow you as you turn to pull another bottle out of the conservator. “How do you know Hexx and Sunni?”

“Sunni is my sister,” you reply.

“I thought I saw the resemblance,” he says. “Why aren’t you out partying with the others?”

“Just came in for a drink,” you reply. He arches an eyebrow, and you buckle immediately under his unspoken interrogation. “And to hide for a few minutes.”

“Now, why would you want to hide?” he asks, tapping his bottle against yours and taking a long sip.

You shrug. “Not a huge fan of crowds. They make me nervous.”

“You must hate living on Coruscant, then,” he says.

“I would if I lived here,” you reply.

“You’re not local?” he asks, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining the hint of regret in his tone.

“No, I live on Nakadia,” you reply. “I’m only on Corrie for the engagement party.”

“Nakadia?” he asks. “Then you must be the farmer.”

“Yes, I own a flower farm there,” you reply. “How did you know?”

“Hexx told me they were having the wedding at your farm. You’re a brave woman to agree to host that many clones for a party,” he says with a charming smile.

“I’d do anything for Sunni,” you reply. “But I have to admit it’s weird to think that she’s getting married when I still see the adorable little girl with fluffy hair and a face covered in jelly when I look at her.”

“I know the feeling,” Mayday says with an ironic twist of his mouth. “We do what we can for them, but in the end, we have to trust them to know what they’re doing.”

“Hexx seems like a good man,” you say tentatively. “And he makes her happy.”

“Have you known him long?” he asks.

“I’d only spoken to him on holocalls until I got to Corrie three days ago,” you reply. “What about you? Did you serve with him?”

Mayday nods. “I’m his commanding officer, at least for the moment. I can tell you that there’s not a more loyal soldier in the GAR. He’ll take good care of your sister.”

“When you say ‘for the moment,’ what does that mean? Is he being reassigned?” you ask curiously. Sunni hadn’t mentioned it.

“Not to my knowledge,” he replies. “But I am retiring.”

He seems too young to be retiring, but there is a weariness about his eyes that makes you think he’s earned it.

“What will you do then?” you ask, relaxing back against the countertop.

Mayday mimics your laid-back posture, leaning against the wall as he answers. “Haven’t decided yet. I might just spend some time enjoying being the only person in charge of my time.”

“You’re not going to rush down to RTL to find the love of your life?” you ask, a teasing light springing into your eyes.

“Nah, not for me,” he replies. “I’d prefer to meet somebody organically.”

“Understandable,” you reply. “Though it certainly worked out well for Sunni and Hexx.”

“And what about you?” he asks.

“What about me?” You take a sip of beer and enjoy its icy effervescence on your tongue.

“Any plans to visit the matchmaker?”

“I’m not really interested,” you admit.

Mayday nods slightly, his eyes unreadable. “So you’re taken, then?”

The door slides open abruptly, and Sunni bursts in like the force of nature that she truly is, tugging Hexx behind her.

“Are you hiding in here?” she demands with an infectious laugh. 

“Of course not!” you lie with dignity. “I was entertaining your guest.”

“Welcome, Commander,” Hexx says, subtly standing at attention.

“Relax, Hexx. You don’t need to salute me at your own engagement party,” Mayday says with that easy, charming smile.

Hexx and Sunni sweep you back outside to join the rest of the party goers before you get a chance to tell Mayday that you are very single.

Months pass before you see Mayday again. Sunni is swept up in wedding plans, and you head back to Nakadia to tend to your farm. There’s plenty to do, between your normal responsibilities and the additional work of getting the property ready to host a large wedding. If you think Sunni is a social butterfly, she pales in comparison to Hexx and his multitude of brothers. Sunni is going to have the largest family-in-law in the galaxy, and it seems like half the GAR will be attending the wedding, along with their plus-ones, most of whom had met through Right to Love Matchmaking. Several of the matchmakers are also invited, and you hope they aren’t so dedicated to their work that they will harass you to sign up for their services. 

A few weeks before the wedding, Sunni and Hexx arrive with a large contingent of clones to help with the labor of getting the farm ready for such a large gathering. Veetch is there, of course, along with numerous members of the 77th Heavy Brigade. 

And, of course, Mayday is there. 

It takes an unbelievable amount of work to get the farm ready, but given that Hexx has quite literally brought a small army to help, it goes faster than you expect. The entire first day is spent clearing brush to make space for the large pavilion where the reception will take place. It is dirty, sweaty, backbreaking work, even with the help of the droids. You are exhausted at the end of the day, and after taking a quick shower, you make your way out to the front porch to watch the sunset. It’s your favorite vantage point, and it’s a nightly ritual that you almost never miss.

Tonight, though, someone has already claimed your spot. His tall, broad form leans casually against the pillar as he surveys your lovely farm. In the golden light of early sunset, you pick up the glints of lighter brown and gold in his dark hair, and for an instant, you wonder what it would feel like to twine your fingers through it. On impulse, you stop in the kitchen and pull two bottles of ale out of your conservator. You join him and offer him a bottle wordlessly. He nods his thanks and goes back to staring out at the kaleidoscopic fields of flowers. 

You didn’t see much of him today. He has been busy working on a special project in the barn, and his sleeves are littered with a fine layer of wood shavings. Your knees creak a little as you lower yourself to sit on the porch step, and soon he joins you. 

“Nice place you have here,” he says at last, breaking the evening serenity. “Peaceful.”

“That’s what drew me here,” you reply.

He looks at you curiously. “Trying to avoid crowds?”

You nod, not wanting to spoil the tranquility of the moment by delving into your personal history. “It’s a good place to live a quiet life.”

“That sounds…” he begins, but he trails off. 

His eyes have a faraway expression, and you wonder what horrors he’s seen to make him look so karking tired. He doesn’t continue, and you don’t prod him. Instead, you quietly watch the sun paint the sky in a wash of pastel. As the light fades and the dusk creeps in, you exchange occasional desultory remarks, but mostly you sit in companionable silence, drinking slowly and simply enjoying each other’s nearness.

“It’s a good place for a wedding,” he observes.

“Yes, I always thought if I ever got married, it would be here.” You smile. “I wouldn’t want the big party, though. Just a few people. Sunni and Hexx, a few close friends. A simple ceremony, and then a cozy dinner party under those trees,” you say, gesturing at the nearby copse of acthorn trees.

“You’ve thought it out,” he observes.

You let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “Kind of hard not to with everything going on.”

“That’s fair,” he says. “I never thought much about weddings. Didn’t think it would be a possibility.”

“Is this the first you’ve been to?” you ask curiously.

He shakes his head. “The matchmakers have been busy. Half of the commanders have paired up, and the other half are just waiting for their turn.”

“But not you?”

He shrugs. “Can’t say I ever thought much about the war ending, until it did. By then, it seemed a little late to start planning a life I never thought I’d have.”

You frown. “It’s not too late. You’ve earned that life, Mayday.”

“Maybe,” he acknowledges. “But I won’t find it on a speed date.”

He’s waiting for you the next night, too, and the one after. Each evening, you open up more to him, and the two of you spend hours conversing in low voices late into the night.

“How many kinds of flowers do you grow?” he asks as he looks out across the vibrant patchwork of blossoms that stretches to the edge of your farm.

“Hundreds,” you reply. “Not all at once. I stagger the plantings to extend the growing season and keep the income a little more predictable.”

“Which ones are your favorite?”

“Fire lilies,” you reply. “They’re unpopular with buyers, but I still grow a patch of them just for myself.”

“I’ve never seen one,” he says.

“Would you like to?”

“Very much,” he replies.

You stand slowly. You’re accustomed to hard work, but the past few days have been a whole other level of manual labor. A tiny moan of relief escapes you as you stretch your tired muscles. When you turn to Mayday, he is watching you with an indecipherable expression. He’s very good at that, you’ve noticed. Sometimes he is very open and easy to read, and others he is incredibly guarded. He must be an excellent sabbac player, you reflect.

With a small smile at the thought, you lead him through the twilight into the garden. In the fading purple light, the lush perfume of the lilies surrounds you in a sweet, heady cloud.

“May I pick one?” he asks.

“Of course,” you reply. 

Most people don’t bother to ask, and you never realized how much it bothered you until Mayday’s courtesy reminds you that you have a right to say no. He plucks a blossom carefully, reverently, making sure not to damage the rest of the plant. 

“They’re beautiful,” he says quietly. “I can see why they’re your favorite. Why don’t buyers like them?”

“They don’t last long once they’re picked,” you reply. “It makes transporting them tricky.”

“Then I’m sorry I picked this one,” he says.

“Don’t be,” you reply. “There will be more tomorrow.”

The sun has fully set now, and his dark eyes reflect the pale light of the moons. He examines the blossom closely, taking in the graceful curves of the petals, the striations and speckles at the center, the delicate filaments of the stamens. His eyes rise to your face, and his hands follow nearly unconsciously. His knuckles brush subtly against your cheek as he tucks the flower into your hair. Your mouth suddenly feels very dry, and you swallow without meaning to.

“Beautiful,” he repeats.

---

Read Chapter 2 here!

[lazzarella]

Peaceful Property rambling incoming! I wrote it in like ten minutes, so it’s a mess, but I’ve been meaning to write this since ep 6 and I just wanted to finally get some of my thoughts out. This really is more for myself than anything I guess 😅

TL;DR I’m finding the writing in Peaceful Property really good and satisfying, especially when it comes to tropes I sometimes find frustrating or offputting or that are often poorly executed imho

The writing in Peaceful Property has been so good and so satisfying to me so far! The pacing in general is really nice, and there's been some nice misdirection/red herrings (I kept forgetting to write about this and now I can't remember what they were lol) and I think the pace of the reveals has been really good too. Like, if we knew from the outset that Peach was hit by a car and died for a while, I feel like it would've been easier to suspect Home's involvement? Similarly, if we knew that Home had been involved in a hit and run earlier, I don't think the audience would've sympathised with him as much (of course, some people have lost sympathy with him now, and that's understandable)

But the writing is also a good illustration of how tropes that aren't my favourite or can be frustrating for me can end up enjoyable in certain writers' hands. Obviously, this is just a personal preference, but I often find the 'person wants to confess something and takes their time doing it because they're nervous and then, when they're finally ready, the person they want to confess to finds out some other way with disastrous results' trope frustrating at times. But it worked SO well here! I think the frustration sometimes comes from it not fitting characters, but it fits Home and Peach so well and the setup worked well to make it believable for me too!

Like, Home has never had to take responsibility for anything ever. Of course he doesn't know how to own up to what he's done wrong! Especially not to someone he truly cares about! (Which also seems like a rarity in his life). Like, he literally has no precedent in his life to draw from as far as we know. And he has a family and he doesn't want to risk it and he wants the apology to be perfect. So, it makes sense to me that he would hesitate and take so long!

And, of course, Peach's devastation is believable, but him jumping to the conclusion that Home knew all along when he sees the video makes sense too! Yeah, he's learnt to trust Home, but seeing that video would just really mess you up, right? That the worst thing that's ever happened to you was done by this person you now see as family? I think it's easy to assume he'd known who he hit. And Home's family stepping in before Home can explain also makes perfect sense because they've done it before. So, yeah, where I can sometimes find this setup frustrating and annoying because it doesn't fit the characters or it's just sort of weak, I thought it was really strong here

(As a sidenote: I'm not necessarily mad at Kan, but really really curious about what's going on with her, so that's another nice piece of writing for me personally. I'm not saying she's not out of line, but she's so mysterious that, yeah, I'm just SO damn curious more than anything)

I can also go either way on the 'poor person rejects rich person's money out of pride, etc.' trope. But, again, I thought it worked perfectly here! There were a couple of other posts that went over why it made sense for them, and it definitely worked for me too. Peach is still very emotionally raw, he believes his friend—his family—has been lying to him all along, probably using the money to assuage his guilt, and now this attorney says he's there on Home's behalf, so he's reacting emotionally on some level. (I mean, we see him not long after sobbing on the bathroom floor) He feels used and betrayed and the money—even for the work he's already done—symbolises that to him. 

So, yeah, like a lot of the writing in the show, his rejection of return of the money is symbolic of severing ties with Home and rejecting what he sees as corrupt ideals, or whatever. He wants Home to know, without a doubt, that he wants nothing more to do with him. And, because Peach thinks Home cares more about money than anything else (and has good reason to believe so), this feels like a 'hit 'em where it hurts' thing to me too? 

But, yeah, sometimes I hate this trope, but it worked well for me here as well because of the way it was written

Anyway, I'm repeating what others have said, and I don't know where I'm going with this, but, in conclusion, I'm finding the writing SO satisfying. I could probably do a breakdown of every ep, but I won't because I'm lazy and also just parroting what's been said already haha

[corvus--rex]

Lance and Keith started dating early in high school, even before Keith came out and started his transition, and it's now just after college and they're engaged. They've been with Lance's family for the day, Sylvio and Nadia included.

The kids are 6 and 4 and have known Keith literally their entire lives. They were too young during various stages to understand what was going on, but they both know Keith's trans.

Needing a break, Keith is curled up against Lance in the living room, while Sylvio and Nadia are sprawled on the floor with a book each. Nadia's only just learning to read, but she already loves books. She's turning the pages, mostly looking at the pictures, when she looks up, interrupting Keith and Lance's quiet conversation.

"Tío Keef, why aren't there families in my stories like ours?"

It's been about 15 years since he's read a kids' book and doesn't understand where's she's going with this. "What do you mean, munchkin?"

Nadia puts her book down, turning to face him in all the seriousness a 4 year old can muster. "They all have a mami and a papi, but not - not -" her face scrunches as she tries to find the right word.

She doesn't need to find the right word, the realization of what she's asking hits him at full force. He sits up, leaning forward to meet her eyes. "You wanna know why there isn't anyone like me?"

She nods. "It's not fair."

It's an innocent question, but she asked it with such naive sincerity, genuinely upset that she didn't see her own family in her favorite books. It gave Keith an idea. He had a new sketchbook in the backseat of his car, a very recent art degree, and the few creative writing classes he'd taken.

Nadia's books didn't have her family in their pages, but maybe they could.

"Y'know what? I'll be right back."

He ran out to his car and back with the sketchbook, plus the mechanical pencil and ballpoint pen from his bag, and sat down on the floor with her, meeting Lance's confused look asking what the hell he was doing with one that said "trust me".

"Ok, munchkin," he said to Nadia, "If your stories don't have our family in them, how about we make a new story?"

Nadia's face lit up. "We can make a new one? With our kind of family in it?"

"We can, but I'll need your help."

Sylvio was pretending to read his own book, but Lance could see him listening in and sneaking looks at the rough sketches. That didn't last long, the book quickly forgotten in favor of throwing out wilder and wilder ideas for the story with Keith gently reeling him in. Sylvio was not one to be reeled in, and Lance soon joined them on the floor to help wrangle the kids' enthusiasm. They stayed there for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, neither one wanting to leave when their parents came to tell them it was time to go. They only stopped fighting it when Keith promised them they'd work on the story again.

He kept that promise, taking the kids out every few weeks, showing them what he'd done in between when he had time, and them continuing the story and illustrations.

After it was finished, he left it for a while, not forgotten, but resting. Eventually, he pulled the illustrations and their companion sheets of text from the shoebox-like storage box he'd gotten just for this, matching art to words.

Lance came home from work to their apartment that evening to find Keith on the living room floor, bristol board and printer paper in an organized chaos around him.

"Think it's really done?" Lance asked.

Keith sighed and leaned back against the sofa. There was one thing about the book he hadn't told anyone yet, but after the email he'd gotten earlier in the day, he finally could.

"Yeah I do." He paused and looked up, a little bit guilty, but mostly trying to contain excitement. "I found a publisher for it. They're a queer-owned company. I actually sent it off about a month ago and I finally heard back today. They love it."

It had started as a picture book, but evolved since then into something a little bigger. Nadia wanted cats - all different colors, and not little kitties, no she wanted lions. And the lions had to have knights to ride on them. Sylvio was the one to insist on a princess and that she had to be their honorary Tía Allura. Gradually, all of the knights and princess ended up based on people the kids knew, Keith and Lance included. It made sense and Keith loved it and the idea of family including the one you make for yourself.

When it came time for a name for this story of found family and adventures, Sylvio yelled "Defenders of the UNIVERSE!" at the top of his lungs in the middle of the park. Nadia had been taking a break from the playground, sitting next to Keith with her coloring pad. She'd drawn the lions from their story, facing out in a vaguely star shape, their tails meeting in the middle.

Keith asked for her opinion on a story name and also what she was drawing and without looking up from her coloring, she said "Its name is Voltron."

Keith put the two together, and when the book was published, its cover was the lions Nadia had drawn that day, only by Keith's hand this time, framed on top and bottom by the book's name: Defenders of The Universe, a Voltron story.

No one had seen the dedication, not until Keith got the advance copies, giving one each to Sylvio and Nadia in the same living room the story had started in. Nadia climbed into Keith's lap with it, Sylvio squeezing himself in between Keith and Lance on the sofa.

Looking over Sylvio's shoulder, Lance read it aloud.

"For Sylvio and Nadia, the original Defenders, this book wouldn't exist without you. Don't stop reading or dreaming."

[ssukidesu]

i guess (songfic)

Fandom: The Apothecary Diaries

Pairing: Jinmao

Rating: T

Summary: They'd known each other for years now, but Maomao still didn't understand Jinshi even a little bit. She didn't understand why he felt the way he did about her. She didn't understand why he wanted to give up all the power in the world to be with her. She didn't understand how he could sit there contentedly while she was only just starting to reciprocate with her half-mute heart.

Yeah, they've known each other for years now. And while she still isn't any closer to understanding him, he is certainly beginning to rub off on her—because she's starting to turn into someone she doesn't understand any better. (based on the song "I Guess" by Lizzy McAlpine)

Read on AO3

Chapter 1: interlude

Straighten your tie

We're not alone

I'll tell a lie just to bring you home

This was going to get... tiring.

Damn the emperor and his stupid diplomatic methods. It was bad enough with every female who was already in the capital vying for Jinshi’s attention every day; why did he have to go inviting more here for that sole purpose? Especially considering he knew Jinshi couldn’t marry any of them anyway because of his scar…

Maomao shook her head. It was probably some sort of disciplinary ploy to get back at him for that very incident. The public couldn’t know anything was amiss, after all. 

But that wasn’t her business.

At least, it shouldn’t have been.

Maomao scuffed her shoes against the floor as she made her way toward Jinshi’s chamber. She felt bad for the guy, honest—but she felt worse for herself. Being his default food taster meant that she had to be present at every meal, even and especially those in which the female attendees fought to get as much of his attention as possible. The very errand she was on now was to deliver a letter to him from some unmemorable woman who had the audacity to invite him for evening company. The woman had handed her the sealed envelope with a half-measure of both passive disgust and delusional giddiness. Poor woman.

No—poor Maomao.

She knocked four times when she reached his door. He hadn’t been in there long—he’d only left the dining room about ten minutes before her—but she was in no position to barge in. About five seconds later, he cracked the door just enough to peer out at her. His one visible violet eye immediately softened upon recognizing her, and he revealed the rest of his clearly exhausted face by opening the door all the way to let her in.

“What’s the matter?” he asked as she walked past. He shut the door behind her.

Maomao would have gotten right to business, but her attention was immediately grabbed by an open book on his paper-infested desk. 

“Were you reading?” she asked absently, approaching to inspect closer.

“Nosy tonight, are you?” he observed. She heard his steps approaching behind her.

Her eyes were trained on an illustration. It was of some sort of tree, one she didn’t recognize. “Are you studying botany for fun in your free time now?”

He scoffed. “As if I had any.” Now at her side, he lowered his finger to the page and traced the ink. “I’m researching trees to learn which would be the most sustainable to cultivate for paper. If we’re going to increase production to incentivize literacy, I figure not all trees are made equal. There are the few variants we use in our country, but it never hurts to do research on what other places use.”

“I see,” she hummed. “And here I thought you’d be daydreaming of all the lovely ladies you had the honor of meeting tonight.”

His lip curled at her sarcasm. “I don’t understand what he wants to achieve with this. He knows I can’t marry any of them." Jinshi's pout spread beyond his mouth and into his voice. "If it’s all for show, he should make it a comedic one, at least.”

“Oh? And how would he do that?” She was getting worse day by day at stomping out her curiosities with him. She knew it was better to be curt, to say only what needed to be said, but sometimes she spoke without thinking and just… said what she was thinking.

Jinshi plopped onto the foot of his bed and unceremoniously kicked off his shoes. He brought his hand to loosen the neck of his robe, which had been clipped with some kind of royal brooch. He cracked his neck, once on each side, and leaned back on his hands. He pouted, “It’d be so easy. Just tell them all I only like women who wear green, or women who only breathe through their mouths.”

Maomao couldn’t help giggling at the image. Jinshi latched onto the sound right away and leaned forward to meet her gaze. He motioned for her to sit on the cushion beside the bed, so she did. He continued, “That’s all I was thinking about, that whole time. What I could send through the grapevine to give me something to laugh about. I thought about telling them I preferred when women wore entirely black makeup and styled their hair in novel ways.”

“That would be cruel, sir,” she said evenly with a moderate amount of genuineness. 

“It would.” Jinshi leaned back on his hands again, but he kept his downward gaze locked to hers. “Thank you for being there for me.”

Maomao broke away to peer at her folded hands in her lap. “It’s my job.”

“Tasting my food is your job. Sitting here now, on the other hand…”

She heard the tease in his words, and she remembered all at once why she had come. She stood and poised to reach inside her robe for the letter. She watched him as she did so, and her fingers hesitated. There, laying on his bed, she felt that he looked like an entirely different person from whom the writer of this letter thought he was. He had not yet freed himself from his royal clothes, but he had loosened them where he could. She could see the top of his chest. His shoes were thrown haphazardly beside the bed, and his bare feet were stretched out, toes no doubt breathing in relief. His face, too, was no longer what it had been when they were at dinner; his smile, once practiced, was now sloppy; his posture, once perfect, was now lopsided and lax.

She liked him best like this. And perhaps not even just for selfish reasons; she liked how he looked when he was just being himself—not the prince with a name she dared not use, but Jinshi, the man who had managed to become her friend.

The word echoed in her head. Had she ever used it so flippantly in her mind before? Why did it feel like she was doing something wrong by saying so? By all objective measures, it was not inaccurate.

She hated the constant bags beneath his eyes, the dull pallor of his cheeks. Maomao knew she cared for his well-being, and had for a long time now. How could she not?

Hands having frozen in the air, Maomao moved to crack her knuckles, as if that had been her intention for lifting her hands from the start. He wouldn’t answer the letter, anyway; why should she waste his time with it? He should go ahead and get to sleep. 

She wouldn’t give it to him. At least, not tonight—not when a mere knock on the door, which even her ears were passively anticipating at all times, could choke out every ounce of relief he currently felt. Just a knock, and his mask would instantly return. His clothes would immediately be refastened. His tired feet would immediately adopt the burden of his body weight. She hoped silently to herself that no visitors would come to him tonight, welcome or otherwise. She thought about leaving a note on his door requesting as much.

His warm voice breached the air. “You won’t speak?”

Her eyes lifted to his. She’d been staring at his exposed clavicle. “Huh?”

“We were talking about your job, and what you do and don’t get paid for.”

“Ah. Are you offering to pay me for my babysitting you at night?”

“You’re forgetting already that you’re the one who came to me, presumably for no particular reason at all.” He was smiling still, but Maomao noted that it was now certainly not the polished smile of a palace prince. It still looked beautiful on his face, of course, but it was a smile she’d often seen on the faces of sparring soldiers or gambling drunks. 

“It wasn’t for no reason,” Maomao snapped, but she couldn’t come up with a secondary excuse quick enough to escape his doubt. When her lie finally came, he was ready to recognize it as one. 

“There are about a hundred additional people in the palace who want to become your partner. I figured I’d make sure you got to your room safely.”

Jinshi fell onto his back with a thump. “Maomao is my protector, then? What would you have done, if indeed you had found me compromised?”

Luckily he was no longer looking at her—he didn’t see her face turn pink. Her words tumbled out quickly. “I’d toss you a tonic and get the hell out.”

He laughed once. “How rude. I’m still young enough to not need a tonic.”

“That so?” she teased, grateful for the opportunity for offense. “I figured your years of taking a eunuch philter would make you inept forever.”

His voice lowered, and he brought his arm up to cover his eyes. “Bold of you to say something like that when you’ve come alone and unbidden to my bedroom.” 

Under normal circumstances, Maomao would seek adamantly for a topic change. But just before she could corral them elsewhere, an image from earlier that night inexplicably invaded her mind: her master the moon prince, at his banquet table, bearing the weight of dozens of fawning eyes at any given time, cheeks fixed in a smile, eyes both politely flicking between guests and secretly glazing over, his chopsticks picking at his otherwise untouched entree. To the untrained and unfamiliar eye, he was near angelic; but to Maomao—who had been sitting adjacent to him behind a few rows of guest tables, close enough to see him clearly but far enough to not hear any of his spoken words—he was hanging by a thread. The few times she rose to deliver his plates after confirming their safety, he eyes would land on her, and he would let his smile slip ever so slightly. She knew it was not because he was unhappy to see her; rather, it was because, out of all the other people in the room, she was the only one who didn’t require it of him. At her final delivery, a fruit tart dessert, when their eyes met and his lips loosened, something within her wished to give him comfort. Without thinking, she felt her own lips curl upward, and she smiled softly at him. His eyes widened slightly at the sight, and from then on till the end of the banquet, she noted that he seemed a bit more energetic.

Kind of like how he seemed right now.

“I meant no offense. I only wanted to tease you a little,” she said finally.

Jinshi sat up again and shuffled so that his butt was on the edge of the bed. This brought him close enough to reach out to her, and he did so. After a second of hesitation and a skeptical look, she accepted his outstretched hand. He tugged her forward until he could wrap his arms around her waist. Looking up at her, as she was about a head taller than him, he sucked in a deep breath and sighed.

“Tease me more,” he grunted. 

Maomao raised a brow. “How can I be so heartless as to tease someone so pitiful?”

“Yes, like that. More.”

She smirked despite herself. “If only one of those ladies knew what a masochist you are. All she’d have to do is slap you in the face and you’d become her slave.”

“Only if the slap was followed by a kiss.”

Touché, she thought.

And then, just as she opened her mouth to retort, the moment they both had dreaded came: another human being, an outsider from this safe bubble of theirs, rapped their knuckles on his door.

“Moon Prince?” the voice said, muffled by the door. It was Basen. “Someone has requested a word.”

Maomao had been watching Jinshi’s face, not noticing how her own fingers clutched at the fabric of his shoulders when his arms tightened around her frame. His eyelids had fallen closed; his brow furrowed. They both were thinking the same thing: if it was someone Basen could not dismiss for the night’s late hour, then it meant it was a very high ranking guest, or a servant thereof. He would have to answer.

“One moment,” he said with a mostly collected voice. 

He loosened his arms from her body and began to resituate his robe. Maomao’s own fingers came to the unclasped brooch, and she refastened it while he gathered his hair to be repinned. His shoes were near enough that he could drag them close with his feet, and he slipped them back on.

Unthinking, Maomao remained close to him despite no longer being in his grip. When he was altogether the Moon Prince again, at least outwardly, he met her eyes. He seemed to find something there, but before she could ponder about what it was, he stood, caressed her face with a single hand, and brought his lips to her cheek. 

Then, he was gone, walking to the door. As he opened it, Maomao did her best to look as if she belonged but also didn’t belong, as a servant would.

She heard Basen’s voice introduce someone, but her mind did not accept the sounds as articulate words. Whatever occurred in the conversation, it resulted in Jinshi leaving the room. 

She returned to her own, knowing she would not see him again until morning.

[kyouka-supremacy]

ooh how about Yosano for the ask game?

Yay Yosano!!! I love her so much <33

Favorite thing about them: Her backstory,,, It's just a masterpiece, for me it's really the peak of bsd's writing. “We don't want your skill. We want that kindness of yours” and “You don't need a skill at all. There's real value in your sadness.” ueueueueueueue. In two chapters it made of a relatively flat character a complex and human one, and we love to see that.

Least favorite thing about them: Nothing, she's great??? I can't think of anything.

Favorite line: There's no line that hits me in particular I can think of, but I really like the emotion / delivery of some of them. This one I like tons:

brOTP: Aaaaahhh I love her I want to see her interact with everyone. Older-sister kind of characters are ALWAYS my favourite. I love her dynamics with Ranpo and I like to think they have this sort of sibling complicity of two people who have known each other for a very long time and love each other deeply. I like her relationship with Fukuzawa, I like how explicitly protective he is of her, I'm glad she has someone she can trust who looks after her and makes her feel loved. (Actually, the Yosano / Fukuzawa relationship makes me emotional. Because Yosano was so deeply traumatized and broken and basically dead when he took her under his wing, and she looks so healthy and confident and serene in the canon timeline, it's basically a miracle; and the only way this could have happened is by having someone who deeply loved and cared for her, someone who kindly guided her through every step of rehabilitation. It moves me a little). I really enjoyed her interactions with Atsushi!! And I like to think Yosano and Kyouka would hang out, I feel like Yosano would be happy to sort of return the favour and help back a little girl who was able to slip out of the darkness just in time; I can see them have this kind of inter generational relationship where they go shopping together and chat about girl things.

OTP: I really like kousano!!! I feel like Yosano deserves her spicy pm love affair too ahah. I think it's got lots of potential for both fluff and angst, and I believe it's a cool relationship to explore for both characters!! I wish they'd meet in canon. When I first watched the anime I was low-key into ranposano, and though I don't feel very strongly about them anymore, I think it's a nice ship nonetheless!

nOTP: Nothing. Really I don't dislike ships pffttt.

Random headcanon: Something I don't think I ever brought up but that I firmly believe in is that whereas all the other ada members live at the ada dorms, Yosano, Ranpo and Fukuzawa have their own house where they live together. Fukuzawa took Ranpo to his home when he adopted him, and then Yosano joined them when they took her in because I mean, there was no way that they could leave her alone, right? So they've always lived together, and they are happy together, they never felt the need to change that. That's the real ada found family for me if there ever was one. Really like deconstructing the idea of nuclear family or of the fact that children can't live with their parents as adults while still being independent. Also it just makes sense? And it's heartwarming to think that Fukuzawa, the lone wolf with no friends of relations, now lives in a happy and lively household.

Unpopular opinion: Yosano existing isn't enough to beat the bsd being sexist allegations, I'm so sorry everyone I wish that was the case.

Song i associate with them: Kilmer by Niru Kajitsu, I just wish I didn't (个_个) There's even a beautiful fanart of Yosano in the style of the Kilmer pv here. Also Fräulein=Biblioteca by nyanyannya, just based on vibes alone (the purple butterflies!!), to mention something a little less depressing lol.

Favorite picture of them:

Favourite panel from the manga:

(Took me like. One hour to pick just one. She's always stunning in Harukawa's art style.)

Favourite illustration:

Favourite illustration in the anime art style:

Favourite Mayoi card:

Send me a character?

[jiliansky-blog]

The Labyrinth of Dreams. Chapter 1. King of goblins

Pairing: Morpheus x FemaleReader

Rating: PG

Words: 1480

Summary: The idea of crossover came to me after a few arts and rewatching Labyrinth (1986). Jareth is a nightmare and while Morpheus was captured, he escaped to reality. And he wants to take down Morpheus. Elisabeth is a daughter of Sarah and want to find Labyrinth. And Jareth wants to use her against Morpheus. But something went wrong...

I was looking into a crystal with irritation. Morpheus was back. And now my time as a real thing was gone. While he was away, I could live whatever I liked. Outside the labyrinth. Not exist only in girls' dreams of escape. Now he will lock me up in the labyrinth again. But this time I won’t make it easy for him. I have my own little nightmare kingdom to rule. And maybe, I can make Morpheus pay for everything. I just need to find someone who helps me.

And I knew who could. The daughter of my precious Sarah. She was eighteen years old already. And she looks like just her mother. Maybe, she will be more agreeable than her mother. And I also can send “hello” to Sarah as well. Elisabeth, her name, is such a dreamer. Just like her mother again. She wants to have a fantasy dream and I will give it to her. And I know that Morpheus will be charmed by her. And do everything, especially if he thinks that she is my prisoner.

Elisabeth “Mom, when I can get into this world of yours?” I asked, looking through the books. My mother actually wrote her own story about the Labyrinth and illustrated it herself. She wanted once to be an actress just like her mother, my grandmother, who I’ve never known. But her wish disappeared after the Labyrinth and the school play. And she wanted to be the children's writer and illustrator. I couldn’t blame her for this. I’ve grown up on her books and stories. “How I can get here?” I asked.

“I think, you already forgot about it”, she said. “I didn’t tell you the story for a long time. And you are grown up already”. “Anyway”, I said. “I'm still interested in this”, I said. “You shouldn’t wish for this”, she said firmly. “I said foolishly once about taking my stepbrother. And he took him. He can listen to you too”. “Well, you can make him go away, so can I”, I smiled. “Oh, Beth”, she sighed. “There is nothing for you there. He is not a charming prince. He is cruel and can steal you away”. “I don’t want to be with him”, I assured her. “I just want to see his world myself”.

“Why?” she asked. “It’s not beautiful. You can’t even find the way out”. “If you can find the way, I can find the way too”, I denied. “Perhaps, I can even meet your old friends. It would be…” “No!” This time her voice was sharp. “You need to know, I made this all up. Because I was lonely after my mother’s death and felt like Cinderella”. “What?” I asked surprised. “I didn’t want to upset you”, she sighed again. “It was just a story. And I want you to move on and live an ordinary life”.

“Then why do you make me believe in this story all this time?” I asked, not quite believing her this time. It was too sudden. “You need to understand, Elisabeth”, mother said. “Your belief in magic is charming, but you need…you don’t need to prevent it from living your real life”. “I can’t believe”, I said and stepped back. “And I don’t know what is worse. The you could lie to me, or you to break everything I believe in”.

“Beth…”, she said softly. “Because of course all the conversations that grandpa made with you help you grow up, don’t?” I asked and went to the door. “Beth, come back!” she called. “I’m not Beth!” I replied. “I’m Elisa”. And I angrily leave my parent’s house.

Morpheus “We have a problem, my lord”, said Lucienne, when I was trying to create a new dream.

“What else, Lucienne?” I looked at her. “It's Jareth, my lord”, she said. “He returned to the Labyrinth”. “And why this is a problem?” I asked. “He supposed to stay there”. “Yes, I know, but while you were away he escaped and had affairs with the human woman”, she said. “And now some of the nightmares gathered there”. “They gathered in the Labyrinth?” I asked. “Why?” “I think he is up to something”, the librarian said. “He may not be as obvious as Corinthian and may more be subtle”. “Corinthian tried to communicate to Vortex”, I said. “It wasn’t subtle”. “Anyway”, she answered. “I would suggest looking after him”. “I will, Lucienne”, I nodded. “Thank you for telling me”.

She nodded also and left. And I sighed. Another rebellion Nightmare. He should provide a sweet escape for lost girls. And now what does he want? I dissolved a new dream because I couldn’t concentrate on my work anymore. I need to check him and see myself. Jareth wasn’t surprised to see me in his castle when I appeared. He was sitting on his improvised throne and smirking. “What’s so funny?” I asked. “I was just thinking, when you will pay me the visit”, he replied. “Don’t you try to go through the labyrinth? It would be so much fun”. “I know all your tricks, king of goblins”, I said. “And I don’t need to go through your labyrinth for this is my kingdom. And you are still my subject”.

“And you come all this way to remind me of this, my lord?” he asked sarcastically. “I almost forgot, while you were…gone”. “I’m here now”, I admitted. “And I heard that in your castle some nightmares found the shelter. Why?” “You told it yourself, lord Morpheus”, he smirked. “They want a shelter. They want a leader. At least, while you were gone”. “I hope, you won’t be foolish enough to make a stupid decision”, I said coldly. “Like make a rebellion. I’m still king of dreams and nightmares”. “Of course, you are”, he said. “I don’t want to repeat the fate of Corinthian”. “Good”, I nodded and went back to the castle.

Jareth Morpheus getting suspicious, but it doesn’t change anything. He won’t see what’s coming. And as far as I can see, little Elisabeth has a fight with Sarah. Just like her mother did before she went to the Labyrinth. Perfect time to interfere.

Elisabeth I can’t believe she told me that. She made me believe that everything in Labyrinth happened in real. And now she told me it was a lie. It just doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t matter. I will find a way to prove that everything is real. I will bring something from that place. Mother not only gifted me her book, but her copy of the original book. It was another story of the princess Sarah, who got into the Labyrinth. And she also faced Jareth, the Goblin king. So if my mother could get there, then another girl was there too. And she probably left too and took the child that Jareth had stolen. I didn’t know what I would do in their place. Perhaps, I would stay and can turn this unwelcome and hostile labyrinth into something else. Something far more beautiful. And with these thoughts, I fell asleep. Some noise wakes me up. And when I opened my eyes and turned on the light I saw that the window was open. It was strange. When I closed it, I sensed someone’s presence in the room. And turned around slowly.

“Hello, Elisabeth”, the stranger said. It was a man tall man in dark sparkly clothes. His hair was messy and white. Eyes were grey and cold. He wasn’t handsome but was charming. “It is you”, I said. “You're the Goblin king, aren’t you?”

“Yes”, he smirked. “My name is Jareth”. “I didn’t call you to steal some of my family”, I admitted. “But you were thinking about me”, he smiled. “Sarah…Your mother told you about me. She told a story about it”. “Yes”, I nodded. “What do you want then? An act of revenge?” “I want to make you my queen”, he smiled. “I know what you dream about. Adventures, love, to have an interesting life in another world”. “Is that some sort of trick?” I asked. “No, I can give you all of that”, Jareth said. “And in return, you will help me with something. To defeat someone who can threaten our life”.

«Our life?” I asked, confused. “Yes”, he nodded. “You will be the queen of my kingdom. You can rearrange it however you want. What do you say?” It was a temptation. But my mother’s voice echoed through my head. She said don’t call for Jareth. And here he is. Anyway. And I always want to find the Labyrinth. And that’s it. My chance. “I agree”, I said. “Good”, he smiled. “You look like your mother. But you are not like her at the same time. Then come with me, future queen of mine”. He gave me a hand and I took it. That was the adventure I was waiting for.

@shadowqueen1318 @mypsychoticlove @justathirstyhoe​ @ladymoztaza

[saiyanmazen]

Rest

Another tiny ficlet for today. This one is heavily inspired by this art by @310knt (who's sadly no longer possible to find). Also this illustration by @ukyryo. Go check it out, just know that it hurts.

This ficlet also uses the prompt Rest from day 6 of the @vegebulocracy D&D event. Can also be read here on AO3.

Be warned: I cried while writing this which I've never done before. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

--------------

If only he had gone to hell. Surely that would have been less painful than this.

He watches her day in and day out. Taking care of their son. Fleeing the androids. Helping survivors. Desperately inventing something to change the past and hopefully their future.

Night and day he watches her. She rarely rests; there is no time for rest, she mutters to herself late at night.

He wants to tell her to rest.

In the beginning, he tried to contact her constantly, yelling and screaming in a fruitless attempt to reach her. But he never did and he knows never will.

He understood immediately that he was dead. His body was out there for days, along with the other killed warriors. Only Gohan survived as far as Vegeta is aware, but he is just a boy who recently lost his father to an unexpected disease.

Bulma buried their bodies after a few days when the androids traveled to another part of the planet. She cried silent tears as she dug, careful not to wake the sleeping toddler she had been forced to bring along with her. There was no one else to take care of him and the small boy needed his mother. He could likely feel the sudden decrease in ki around him and it made him uneasy.

Vegeta is there when his son takes his first steps and when he says his first word: safety. He knows that these are moments he would have missed if he had still been alive. He would've been busy destroying the androids or training. If anything good has come from his cruel fate, it is that he gets to experience his son growing up.

But mostly, it is torture. It is torture to see his son, but never being able to talk to him or spar with him. Trunks is strong, more than Bulma or he himself knows, and he has inherited his mother's intelligence. Vegeta is beyond proud of him, a feeling he wants to share. With her.

There is so much he wants to say to her, so many times he is desperate to hold her. But all he can do is watch. He can go everywhere on this blasted planet in this purgatorial plane of existence he is caught in, but there is nowhere else he wants ho be. His place is with her.

He longs to touch her, just one last time. At least to provide her a little comfort. During the late nights where she cries herself to sleep, he tries to lay his hand on her cheek and caress it. He can't feel it, but he hopes that she can. He whispers comforting words in her ear and he likes to imagine that her sleep is a little more peaceful because of it. And he lets his lips hover over hers, trying to remember how her kiss felt.

If he had known that there was a fate worse than hell… no, he can't pretend that he would've acted any different during his time under Frieza’s thumb. But he would have cherished his time with Bulma more and given in to his yearning for her a lot sooner. He would've told her how magnificent she is and that he loves her.

It is too late. All he can hope for now is that she will find some rest. Maybe then he will be able to do the same.

[jamiegeode]

Why yes I would love to know more. I’ve only ever read The Wizard of Oz (and seen the sequel movie to The Wizard of Oz a long time ago) so please feel free to tell me all about them. Also who’s the pumpkin man??

YESSSS YAYAYAY

SO! Jack Pumpkinhead is a scarecrow made by Ozma(at the time known as the boy Tip) and then brought to life by Tip’s guardian, Old Mombi, one of the illegal witches* of the time. Jack is then taken by Mombi and locked up, and she tells Tip(who she never wanted in the first place**) she will turn him into a marble statue and use the Pumpkinhead as a servant instead. Also Tip’s basically been a slave, and Mombi’s like ‘hm. Less annoying AND I don’t need to feed it? Bye kid.’ This leads to Tip and Jack running away, and the rest of the events in The Land of Oz

It’s also worth noting that Jack Pumpkinhead? He has a deep, severe fear of death. Like he gets anywhere near water and goes ‘dear god, will my head start rotting from the inside?’ He also calls Tip his dad for the entirety of The Marvelous Land Of Oz(second book in the series) and ends up starting a pumpkin farm after his adventures, so that he never has to worry about running out of replacement heads. He’s great. Anxiety rep at its most whimsical.

*Mombi’s brand of magic being made illegal after the laws the Scarecrow passed upon becoming king, mostly prohibiting ‘unnatural’ or harmful magics, but pretty much stopping the majority of magicians and witches not directly loyal to the crown from doing any magic. Which. Mombi herself ain’t great but BRO he essentially banned TRANSITIONING SPELLS! **she was paid by the Wizard of Oz to take the heir to the throne of Oz and hide her so she would never be found- so she turned the princess of Oz into a boy. He doesn’t give a shit about gender tho bc of being what we would in modern terms call ‘a genderqueer icon’, but this did make it pretty hard to find them.

Ok. NOW TO THE ICON HERSELF, POSSIBLY BEST KNOWN FOR THESE ILLUSTRATIONS(WHICH APPEAR IN THE OFFICIAL COLLECTION, AND FROM THE BOOK PUBLISHED IN 1909):

(Yes these photos are from my own copy of the collection of books 1-5, Twas a gift)

OZMA, TIP, THE MONARCH OF OZ!!

She’s an icon. He helped a revolt led by the women of Oz. He then helped the scarecrow escape that same rebellion by making a cursed beast out of some rope, couches, palm fromnds, and a deer head. The curse is how much it hates its own body, being more confusing than a chimera. He fathered a horse. She gave another girl free rein of the palace, including Ozma’s private chambers, and that girl is Dorothy. She helped Dorothy’s entire family move to Oz to escape Debt, and might’ve also helped them commit tax fraud. She then took Dorothy’s family on a tour of the entirety of Oz, usually sharing a room with Dorothy. It was literally love at first sight(paraphrase: she loved the other girl when she first saw her). Before Dorothy moved in, they used a magic portrait/mirror set to call each other at a specific time each day. Dorothy can’t always make the calls, but Ozma is always there. Ozma gave Dorothy a magic belt so she could come and go from Oz as she wished. He’s part fairy. His cousin is part rainbow. Said cousin lowkey flirts with Dorothy. She made Dorothy a princess of Oz, with as much say in what happens as they have. They don’t give a fuck about gender but will perform gender roles like it’s a 30s television show, and I legit think that’s just for the fun of it. He made sure everyone in Oz has a minimum of one bread tree per family. He told the gnome king to fuck off and then stole his trinkets. Those trinkets were actually a neighboring kingdom’s royal family. She freaked out a little when she transitioned but then her friends went ‘it’s still you, we don’t care as long as youre you’ and it was deemed the smartest and wisest thing ever said by the speaker. She’s friends with the guy who paid Mombi to hide her.

I could go into the impact that having a canonical queer character in such an old and well known franchise had on me as a kid, and how reading Oz books helped me feel like I was stepping into a safe place, but tbh I’m kinda stuck on the amount of batshit she got herself into in the second book. Wild.

By the way, all of this was written in the 1900s, the decade, not the century. Frank Baum was a real one.

[felassan]

its that time again! 🍵 

Thoughts/wonderings on Dragon Age: The Missing #4, under a cut due to spoilers for The Missing -

I'm probably becoming a lil unhealthily obsessed with this building. what do we think it is? the Archon's Palace is the highest building in Minrathous (tho I guess not, as it has sewers and this is floating). A Circle? it has a similar shape to the logo for the Circle of Magi. the meeting place for the Magisterium senate, lording over everyone below from high above? whatever it is it looks cool and it must be important to be featured on the map. I wanna go there (๑*ᗜ*)

I love Neve Gallus' design. it's fresh and cool, and she just looks so cute and neat okay. also full of detail - the snake pattern on the headpiece, shoulder 'scales' and scales elsewhere, collar & jacket like one of those hooded snakes, snake-'tailcapped' footwear (rather than steel toe-capped), the serpent belt and of course most of all the beautiful snake design of her prosthetic limb. 10/10 character/costume design

this page had me on my knees basically. my heart.

surely this panel is a new meme format hh? same goes for the one where Varric is saying "Then perhaps all this is linked" and Harding says "And we've led them here"

you walked into the wrong neighborhood bro

I also liked this pair of illustrations, they had a nice 'bookend' feel and reminded me a lot of Lord of the Rings.

Other thoughts:

Minrathous looks kinda cyberpunk and (despite what Harding says in the opening panels) feels quite clean in this comic

Is that the person tailing them lurking in the doorway that Harding is catching sight of here?

These holes in Varric's ear seem to be new. What happened? Injury from the leopard attack?

confused a bit by the perspective flip in this issue. In issue 1, Varric was more like 'stop', and Harding was more like 'talk to him'. it's flipped around a bit here.

Varric smiled when he thought about Neve and then lit up when he saw her. she calls him an "old friend". I wonder how they met and how long they've known each other. something to do with varric's spy network?

This panel felt a bit meta hh.

When Neve says "Your friend is quite intense" is she referring to Solas or Harding?

Then we come to the two main things we learn in this issue:

We learn that Solas has been in Minrathous causing trouble. He's been attacking Venatori locations in the city, stealing artifacts from them and freeing elven slaves in the process, which has greatly angered the Venatori. The Venatori now want revenge and a "bunch of rebellious elves" are "causing trouble throughout the city, presumably in the name of the one who freed them". I wonder if the artifacts weaken the Veil, are connected to the idol somehow, or are simply sources of great power that Solas either needs for himself/his plans or that he simply thinks should be taken away from the Venatori so that they don't cause harm using them? Tevinter Nights showed agents of Fen'Harel seeking artifacts and referenced rumors of elven artifacts that strengthen the Veil, like the ones from DA:I. freeing folks also makes sense, "I am not a monster" and it's something he has a history of doing

In this issue we also learn that Neve works with a group called the Shadow Dragons, who have been trying to help the former slaves. indeed they're trying to help anyone who is held as slaves in Minrathous. this is our first time hearing about this new group. they make it their business to help those in need and Neve makes it her business to help them. I'm a bit ¿ about their name, just due to how it sounds, but it's exciting to learn about a new group/faction. Each issue of this DA:D prequel comic has shone a spotlight on a faction - Grey Wardens, Antivan Crows, the Veil Jumpers and the Shadow Dragons. two new, two old. it's a nice balance. and it brings to mind the common fan theory/speculation about the PC of DA:D having a different faction background depending on the player's choice. at the very least it feels like a way of saying 'these four groups [or characters from them] will feature in a significant way/be 'players on the board' in DA:D".

thinking about the Shadow Dragons' name in an in-world context, like thinking about why they may have chosen their name: dragons are emblematic of Tevinter. dragon imagery is everywhere there, dragons are a symbol of power and Tevinter heraldry shows a dragon. the Tevinter Imperium is a 'dragon', or several (metaphorically) - Magisters, ruling over the classes below. the "shadow dragons" feel like "the other side" of Tevinter, the side in shadow, the underside, the 'anti-Tevinter'. I'd guess that they are the "Tevinter you forgot", i.e. the Viper's faction. (and if you look at Tevinter heraldry, there is also a snake 'in opposition' to the dragon.) before Missing #4 I wondered if “the Tevinter you forgot” "means they are a group of folks who have fallen through the cracks in Tevinter society or who are the downtrodden in Tevinter society. is it some sort of uprising or anti-Magisterium movement?" - here we learn they're trying to help people Tevinter 'forgot' like slaves and former slaves. I also commented "from the story it sounds like the dark-clad card dealer is the Viper. the magister in the story is afraid of him and tries to claim that the Viper is just a tale, implying that the Viper’s name has become known as a sort of shadowy, stealthy urban legend in Minrathous and that it has a sort of bogeyman effect on magisters." Shadow indeed. Neve later comments that the Shadow Dragons are trying to "help anyone held as slaves in Minrathous". I think it was in the Dorian short story in Tevinter Nights that there's a reference to how there's now an anti-slavery movement in Tevinter. Is that the Shadow Dragons? you can see possible echoes of "the Tevinter you forgot" in later comic dialogue "The Shadow Dragons have vowed to help us restore our dignity. To get back the lives that were stolen from us by the Venatori. To make sure we don't have to scrabble in the dirt for food and warm", imo.

I wonder if Dorian, Mae and the Lucerni know anything about the Shadow Dragons? maybe they've done some work together?

and while the Viper/Viper's faction/the Shadow Dragons themselves didn't appear in issue 4, issue 4 still highlighted them, continuing the pattern I speculated about, of the DA Day short stories (Evka/Antoine/Wardens, Teia/Viago/Crows, Strife/Irelin/Veil Jumpers and Viper's faction/Shadow Dragons), one from each of those short stories per issue.

Varric is still having a bad time. also he was born in 9:1, and so if DA:D is set in 9:52, he's now over 50. from these comics, he's feeling old and tired. I don't expect that he'll be a companion in DA:D. more like an advisor (off-field), a contact or quest-giver, or the person that recruits us.

"But why? What did he get out of it? Surely, he wanted something in return" was an interesting line. because like on one hand "I am not a monster", he has a history of freeing people who were enslaved and he's shown as valuing freedom and not enjoying needless suffering. setting people free definitely is the only decent thing. but he's also smart and does things with purpose, always playing 4-D chess, and has been outwitting Varric and Harding at every turn throughout these comic issues, always one step ahead. it seems like a 'it's both' situation. like two birds, one stone. he would free people and it's the right thing to do, and he also gains from it strategically. Varric lampshades this in the final page: and it's three stones, actually. Solas freed people, dealt with the Venatori on his tail and slowed Varric/Harding down long enough to escape all in one move.

Also, at first I wondered if the brown-haired elf was sort've projecting his own perceptions on Solas (with the "his kin" lines). but look here. the leader of these Venatori has a pouch round their neck. the others don't, it's prominently placed and it's consistent on this Venatori in every panel they're in here. and where have we seen that before? around the neck of the Venatori stalker that saved Varric from the leopard in Issue 3. I think we're supposed to conclude that the ringleader of the Venatori that attack the elves in this issue is the Venatori person that's been tailing Varric and Harding all throughout these comic issues. the Venatori ringleader seems to recognize Varric in a later panel, with the "You!". They fight and Varric starts demanding answers from the Venatori leader. but then, just as he's about to get answers, the brown-haired elf intervenes and kills them at that very moment. they won't hurt their people anymore, and conveniently also (more than one purpose to things again..), now Varric and Harding won't get any answers. and also this:

another - not two, but - three stones. when the brown-haired elf kills the Venatori ringleader, A) preventing them from further harming his people and B) preventing them from giving any answers to Varric and Harding, C) the killing blow also cuts that pouch from their neck. a very specific thing to depict. presumably in the chaos of the Venatori leader's death (you can't see the elf's hands in the very next panel) the brown-haired elf has grabbed the pouch, and part of his goal all along was to take it. I think we're supposed to conclude that the pouch contained the crucious stone and that the brown-haired elf works for Solas. so the "You're too late, I already have the crucious stone" letter from issue 3 was a Solas fakeout, the Venatori at that point in time did in fact have the stone (having beaten Solas to the vault, and as-shown by the Venatori who saved Varric from the leopard having the pouch around their neck), and the events of issue 4 were part of Solas' plan to steal it/steal it back from them (and going by Neve's earlier dialogue, it's not the first artifact he's stolen from them). so two things here: one, Solas' 'three stones' are actually-actually four (free the slaves, deal with the Venatori on his tail, delay Varric/Harding long enough to escape, and steal the crucious stone artifact from the Venatori [my head hurts]). and two, the brown-haired elf was working for Solas after all. he'll give the pouch (and the contents, the stone) to Solas, "he set us, his kin, free" wasn't projection considering that he does work for him, and him being there in the alleyway when he was, with the information that he had, was part of Solas' plan to escape and get the stone. otherwise, it's pretty convenient that one of the former slaves at the place Neve's aware of where former slaves have been eating scraps, at the time when she takes Varric/Harding there, just happened to have helpful info about the meeting that Varric/Harding needed and also happened to kill the Venatori leader and in the process cut the pouch from their neck. idk if it means all the elves here were working for Solas or just the brownhaired one or the brownhaired one & the blond one, but yea. definitely the brownhaired elf is I think.

Neve fighting was cool: staff-less magic and then as a mage using a dagger or shortsword.

party combo-kill! ice spell + finishing blow - a comic depiction of Shattering :)

Brown-haired elf missing his elven ear here.

A cool panel. Also, you can't see his other hand..

just really liked these two panels :) also, they missed their chance, they missed this chance, in this, a comic called The Missing... is that why it's called that?

[clenches fist] vowing to protect Neve and her good heart at all costs

and he stole the crucious stone artifact from the Venatori.

I am not sure that I agree with the premise of this article that BioWare retweeted, that The Missing is required reading before DA:D. I enjoyed issues 2 & 3 a lot! I was hoping for a bit more from the end of issue 4, perhaps a small Solas appearance like at the end of Dark Fortress or just a bit more insight into his plans or things in/the setup for DA:D. finishing on the Dread Wolf mural from the DA:D TGA 2020 trailer as a reminder was neat but the highlight reveal from these comics as a whole was definitely the new mural depicted in issue 3.

"He knows us too well, we need to find/use people he doesn't know" is the same conclusion that was reached at the end of Trespasser (and Harding was present for that conversation). I guess the meta irl reasons for The Missing are: A] since it'll be almost 10 years irl between games, to refresh folks about that conclusion and the fact that it will be a new PC and why it has to be 'someone he doesn't know', since most new players to the franchise at DA:D aren't going to buy years old DA:I and DLC and play til it the end of Trespasser B] fill some irl time C] do some marketing/advertizing and D] highlight these four groups/factions and introduce the two new ones (Veil Jumpers and Shadow Dragons) in advance of DA:D, and possibly highlight these specific characters (Strife, Teia, Evka etc) the same way (though I speculate those characters are more like DA:D 'contact' cameos rather than that they will be companions themselves). Certainly if I was Varric at the moment when Harding asks "So who are you thinking?" at the end here, after the events I had experienced and people & groups I had met in recent weeks, with those being fresh in my mind, I would be thinking about the Grey Wardens, the Antivan Crows, the Veil Jumpers and the Shadow Dragons, both as groups and terms of the mental list of people that I had recently met who Solas doesn't know. again it makes you think about the popular speculation that the DA:D PC will have the background of being from one of these groups. also, those 4 groups aren't ones which were referenced in Tevinter Nights as keeping an eye on Solas/as Solas having some info on them in turn (unlike some other groups like the Mortalitasi, the Executors, the Ben-Hassrath etc).

[lilac-cat-draws]

youe flower shop au is so so so so cute pls tell me the little details youve figured out for it- like litterally info dump anything you want am just so curious thank you wow- also i have too many drawins to do rn but at some point could i make fanarts for your au? so so cuteeee

Oh I didn't expect to have an ask about this AU again, but thank you!

Even though I haven't been back in the fandom for a while, I'll gladly share what I could from what I can remember. I don't know when I'll get back into this, you can say that this AU is on a very long hiatus for the time being.

The Flower Shop and Tattoo Parlour AU was of course something I've made on a whim just to write my ships in but the more I got into it I got invested into writing little headcanons while at the same time having some parts of this AUs story be somewhat similar to the original.

Also I thought I'd say it here but if anyone else is invested in this AU as well, I wouldn't mind seeing anyone else have a go at this AU concept too, so I'm giving full permission to use as some inspiration. I'd love to see what others could do with this story.

This is long so I added a cut

The things I haven't brought up in this AU are mostly the other PM and ADA member's roles in the AU these where the other ideas I had in mind that I never though of posting, not including Soukoku and shin soukoku (unfortunately I didn't have any illustrations of them so it's just text for now) :

ADA (Tattoo Parlour)

Yosano - I had posted about her once before and I think the information about her is still the same. Works at the Tattoo shop part time and as a doctor for her main job, she's one of the workers who are skilled in applying piercings

Ranpo - He was the trickiest one to come up with because of who he is as a character, but the closest I could think of is that He could also be a tattoo artist and a really skilled one in fact, but he prefers to just sit back and do his own thing so he doesn't work with a lot of client unless he wants to himself

Kunikida - He would be the manager of the shop and would of course still be a former math teacher turned manager to a Tattoo Parlour, but for the reason on why he chose this, I never got into why or I probably forgot

Junichiro - One of the shops other piercers he's taking this job also part time in order to earn money to support him and his sister. Speaking of, Naomi is also very well known at the shop from how often she visits him at work and is often asked to leave by Kunikida when she stays for too long

Kyoka - She's a regular junior high student as well as Atsushi's neighbour. Her parents were the ones to have introduced her to him after a friendly encounter and would ask him to tutor their daughter when they're away for work on occasion. Kyoka personally sees him as an older brother figure to her and would keep her company as she would be often by herself

Kenji - a close school friend of Kyoka and he personally know Atsushi as well after being introduced by his friend. The two would also visit the shop sometimes whenever they walk back from school

Fukuzawa - the owner of the shop but also let's his workers operate freely as long as they're not causing any serious trouble, he has a past that he prefers not to bring up and the interaction between him and Ranpo is the same like in the original

PM (Flower Shop)

Kouyou - On of the best and oldest workers at the shop and is Chuuya's superior, she's the first to rely on as she provides the best bouquet arrangements for any special occasion whether it be events or weddings

Higuchi - A new worker at the shop and looks up to Akutagawa, she's well antiquated with both him and his sister Gin. Over time she had slowly developed feelings for Ryunosuke but is unfortunately unaware that he has eyes for someone else, a certain silver haired tattoo artist

Tachihara - He is also a new comer he worked at the shop before Higuchi, he's very laid back and would regularly hang out with Gin and Hirotsu during breaks

Hirotsu - Another experienced worker at the flower shop, for his age he's still capable of carrying large portions of supplies with no issue and would regularly smoke at the back of the shop whenever he's on break

Kajii - Tasked on looking over the quality of the flowers and maintains their quality but at the same time is very curious of the capabilities of the plants and would often be stopped by the other workers from wasting any more of their stock

Mori - The mysterious owner of the flower shop, it's unknown on why he chose to run one but apparently there are some rumours about the shop's owner having possible crime connections as well as former workers disappearing but they all lack information to confirm it's validity

[bibliophilea]

tension (release)

Written for the @dpauzine. Special thanks to all the mods for working with me to get this story in the zine on time, and to @ecto-american in particular for being an excellent beta!

And thank you, SleepySpacey, for illustrating this work! All images here belong to SleepySpacey on twitter, deviantArt, and tumbl!

Contains: TUE Farmboy AU, Grief/Mourning, Alicia POV, Alicia and Danny bonding, Danny being a bit of a cryptid, Flynn mention

ao3 | ffn

“I’m not okay! I will never be okay!”

The outburst is sudden. Explosive. Like the kid’s been holding it in for far too long. Alicia has known this was coming — saw it in the tension in the boy’s shoulders, in the redness of his eyes, in the way he never smiled and never cried and was always terse around her — and yet. And yet. She is not prepared for it.

“You — you don’t get it! You’re strong, and you’re tough, and I’m — I’m not, I’m just not, okay?!” His voice cracks, but the floodgates are open now. Alicia doesn’t think he can stop, even if he wants to. “You’re fine, ‘cause you’re you, and you’re always fine! I can’t — I can’t do that, okay?!”

He glares at her, and oh, he looks just like Maddie. When their momma died, Alicia needed to be strong enough for the both of them, strong enough to carry them through, and Maddie, she cried and cried, but she got angry, and she glared so hard, too hard and too old and it broke Alicia’s heart to see it. Maddie bellowed — Don’t you care?! — and Alicia couldn’t say anything because of course she cared but she had to be strong and she had to be tough and she had to keep going and couldn’t let it get to her and Maddie screamed something fierce, screamed so loud and so long it was amazing her tiny body didn’t give out, she was so small —

Just like her little boy.

He’s so small.

*~*~*

Alicia needs to find him.

He doesn’t know these woods — probably doesn’t know any woods, and that bit of scrub Amity Park calls conservation doesn’t count. This isn’t some patch of green in the middle of a city where the most you’ll see is a stray cat. This is rural. This is wilderness and farmland, where the nearest anything is two miles away.

And this is nighttime. No local would dare go out at night. Alicia more than anyone knows why. Her city slicker fool of a nephew doesn’t stand a chance out there. And like hell she’s gonna just stand by and wait for it to happen. She ain’t giving up the only family she has left to the woods without a fight.

But she’ll be damned if she doesn’t go out there prepared.

*~*~*

“Danny!”

Alicia knows it’s foolish to call out his name like that. She knows it might not be Danny that answers.

But she’s at a loss.

His tracks should have been easy to follow — and they were, for a time. Danny may be smart, but he’s a city kid. He never learned how to hide his tracks the way Alicia and Maddie had growing up in the backwoods of Arkansas. Never learned to pass through these woods without a sign, like the ghosts in the stories Alicia’s momma liked to tell her and Maddie before she died. Never learned to navigate any woods, Alicia reckons, without help from his mom.

But his tracks disappear.

They stop abruptly, in a small clearing, not too far from the fairy circle she hasn’t had the chance to warn him about because he’s hardly ventured off the farm, let alone this far into the woods and —

She takes a breath, and she realizes she’d been holding it for the past minute. Calm down, Alicia. Panicking here won’t do anything but make her lose him for good. And she can’t have that. She won’t have that. Not again.

She takes another breath, steadying herself, and scans her flashlight over the tracks she can see.

Danny had broken through several branches and a thicket of thorns to get here — then fallen to the ground. Probably tripped on one of the roots that arched just above the dirt, hard to see those in the moonlight. She winces in sympathy — a fall like that would leave a mark.

But even so, he had gotten back up again. She sees it clearly in the footprints that follow the fall — stumbling at first, but they grow stronger as they push on into the clearing. The final tracks he left are the clearest — deep footprints facing the other side, the faded treads of his sneakers’ soles pressed firmly into the soil. It’s like he had jumped into the air.

But there’s no sign of where he landed. No hint of where gravity could have pulled him back down to Earth.

Like the moment his feet left the ground, he had disappeared.

Just like —

No.

She wouldn’t think it.

Not here, out in the wilderness at night, where anything could breathe life into those very thoughts.

Not now, when the only family she has left is all alone out here.

But how is she supposed to find him?

Alicia stands up straight, grimacing in frustration at the pop of her back. She’s getting old. Too old to be out at night searching for her fool of a nephew. Not that she’s any wiser, when she’s the one who drove him away.

She takes a deep breath to call Danny’s name again — then chokes on her voice as a wail brutally murders the silence of the night.

The wail — she can’t call it anything else, the way its cries linger in the air — howls through the night, making the hairs rise on the back of her neck and setting her teeth on edge. It echoes over itself, multiplying into a cacophony of moans and keens and shrieks — voices of the damned, screaming in agony and grief.

And before she can think, she finds herself sprinting towards the ghastly sound, gritting her teeth as it grates at her ears and pierces her soul. But she can’t give up, can’t slow down, can’t — can’t think as the wail fills her head and pounds against the inside of her skull —

Only one thought breaks through the cacophony, tolling like a funeral bell, pushing her to move faster, to get there before she’s lost him forever.

Not again.

Not again.

Not again.

*~*~*

“Danny, I’m so sorry.”

It’s all Alicia can say; but it isn’t enough, and they both know it. She’s losing him, she can feel it — feel the gulf between them stretching further, even when she steps forward, even as she wraps her arms around him, engulfing him in a careful hug — as if holding him too tight would shatter him; as if holding him too loose would let him slip away.

Foolish.

She isn’t much of a hugger, but even she can feel that this hug is awkward and wrong — in the way his muscles tense when she gently pats him on the back, the way she towers over him and holds him in place, the way he holds himself like a wall of ice and doesn’t hug her back.

She finally lets go, and he steps back, away from her, glaring at the floor, shoulders risen to his ears.

Then his eyes snap to hers, and they are icy blue like his fathers, and deadly sharp like his mother’s — but the fire in them is cold, and it chills her to the bone. His voice matches his eyes.

“I don’t need your pity.”

And before Alicia can do anything, he brushes past her, and he storms out the door, into the night. Into the wilderness.

He doesn’t look back as he slams the door shut.

*~*~*

By the time she finds him, the wail has long since petered out, leaving a deathly silence in its wake. She spots him facing away from her, kneeling at the edge of the lake just northwest of her property, the moonlight catching on the edges of his figure but leaving the rest in shadow.

She wants to run to him, to look him over, make sure he’s okay, to bring him back inside. But that’s not what he needs. So instead, she surveys the area, and she approaches slowly, making her footsteps loud in the unnatural silence.

Alicia knows this part of the lake — has spent a good amount of time sitting where Danny kneels, thinking or just taking in the world. There’s always something a little bit different every time she comes this way — some new growth in the plant life, or some new animal tracks after the rain, or even a tree fallen in the wake of a storm. A couple storms have passed since she last came here.

Nothing natural could have changed the landscape to be what it is now.

Multiple trees have been torn from the ground, violently uprooted and radiating outwards from the lake. Some of them almost look like they’ve been hit by gunfire — large chunks of them missing, splintered wood clawing outwards from the gaping wounds. Greenish smoke rises from the exposed wood.

The same smoke curls from Danny’s fists at his sides.

Carefully avoiding the craters and downed trees, Alicia makes her way to the edge of the lake. Not too close to Danny — she doesn’t want to spook him — but not too far, either. She wants him to know that she’s there, that she’s there for him, for as long as he needs it.

She lowers herself to the ground with a huff.

And she sits with him, in the stillness of the night.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches as the smoke dissipates from Danny’s hands; as his fists relax; as he slowly shifts from kneeling, to sitting, to holding his knees. She can’t help the small sigh that escapes her — the way he’s curled up, hugging himself, staring intently at the lake so he doesn’t have to look at her — it’s just like her son.

Just like Flynn.

She sighs again, deep and long. Then she speaks.

“You had a cousin, you know.”

Danny doesn’t respond. But she knows he’s listening.

“Flynn,” she continues. “He was my son.”

She pauses as memories wash over her. “He could name every fish in this lake — and he would, too, when given the chance. Tell you all about the peepers, too. Sometimes, I caught him just sitting and staring into the lake — right where you’re sitting now — just thinking, I guess. He was a smart kid.”

Alicia takes a breath, and can’t help the way it shudders.

“He’s gone now. And it was my fault.”

She swallows, and feels her throat click. “We had a fight — can’t remember what about, it was so long ago — but he ran out of the house. And I went after him, of course I did, but it was broad daylight — he should have been safe — and I didn’t get there fast enough.”

She can remember it like yesterday: the way the sunlight had shown as he ran, warming her skin against the gentle, cool breeze that ruffled the grass and the trees. She’d been glad it was nice out — meant neither of them would catch a cold when she could finally catch up to her fool of a son. She remembers her confusion when Flynn had stopped running — then her dread as the dark green of the forest in front of him had slowly warped to something brighter, swirling and glowing and radioactive and growing with each passing moment — then her panic as she had realized what it was.

“It was one of them ghost portals,” she tells Danny. “I’d never seen one before, but your momma, she’d told me all about them. And she’d told me what all came out of them, too. I ran as fast as I could, and I told Flynn to run; but something reached out and grabbed him. And by the time I got there, it was too late. The portal closed. And my boy was gone.”

She can’t help the shudder in her voice, in her chest as she breathes, in her arms as she tenses them to hold herself together. It’s been a long time since she’s talked about Flynn. Too long. But she can’t break over it. Not yet. Danny needs to know — she gets it.

“Losing Flynn like that — knowing he was right there, that if I’d been a bit faster, or if I’d just listened, he’d still be here — it does something to you. My no good ex-husband, he didn’t get it. I’d be a fool to say he didn’t grieve, in the end — but he wasn’t there. He didn’t see. He didn’t understand.”

She watches from the corner of her eye as Danny stiffens.

“I hunted these woods for anything to get my son back,” she continues. “He just thought I was crazy — me spouting about ghosts and fae, like he knew anything about these woods. It ruined our marriage. And I don’t regret that; but it was a bad time. I had nightmares every night about losing him; and every day I did everything I could to find him. Your parents came out here, too, with all their fancy equipment. Didn’t find a thing. And everything I found out in the woods — none of it helped.”

She sighs and ignores the way her breath shakes.

“I never found Flynn, or the thing that took him. It was my fault. And by now, my son is probably dead.”

Danny’s head lowers into his knees as Alicia speaks. She doesn’t expect him to say anything once she’s run out of words. But a moment later, his voice, hoarse and quiet, echoes out from him.

“How do you do it? Keep going?”

Alicia huffs gently. “One step at a time, I suppose. The world keeps going. No matter how much it feels like it should all stop.” She rubs her face, and she’s only a little surprised to find it damp. “It’s hard, with him gone, knowing it’s my fault. There are times the guilt eats away at you.”

“Does it ever go away?” Danny squeezes his legs to his chest. His voice is small. He’s just a child.

Alicia takes a deep, shuddering breath, then lets it go. “No, Danny. It doesn’t.”

She’s not going to lie to Danny — he deserves better than that.

“Losing someone like that? It never goes away.” She pauses. “It gets easier — or maybe you get used to it. Hell if I know. But it never goes away.”

“Then what’s the point?” Danny sounds… angry. Frustrated. Desperate. He’s on the brink of tears, and he looks tired, so so tired, exhausted even — but it reminds Alicia of… something. Maddie? Maybe Flynn? And she chuckles ruefully.

“See, that’s the hard part. Is there any point to death? To losing someone and knowing it’s your fault?” She sighs. “Danny, I’ve had a long time to think. Ain’t much else to do around here.”

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts.

“You’re always gonna miss them — that won’t change. And they’ll always be a part of you — that won’t change, either. But the world keeps going, one step at a time. And that’s how you gotta take things. There’s work to be done. And there’s people you gotta keep going for. When Flynn was taken, it was your momma that kept me going. Then your sister and you.

“But out here, in the middle of nowhere, that don’t work forever. Here on the farm, you got structure, and you got hard work to keep things going. But mostly, you got solitude. And you got a lot of room for thinking.”

She pauses. “It took a while, but I think I learned how to keep going for myself. Not saying it’s easy — but anything worth doing takes hard work. And I’ll be there for you, as long as you want it, and as long as you need it.”

Alicia looks down properly at Danny then, from where she sits. His face is buried in his knees, and he’s gripping his legs like he’ll fall apart if he lets go. His whole frame trembles with tension.

He’s so small. And it breaks her heart to see him hurting like this.

Alicia puts her hand on Danny’s shoulder, and it nearly engulfs his upper arm. His head shoots up, and he stares at her with wide, glowing green eyes.

Then he starts to pull away from her, turning his head away and blinking his eyes.

“Hey.” Something in her tone makes him stop. She continues. “You don’t have to hide from me, Danny. You can let it out.” And so should I.

Danny searches her face for something — Alicia doesn’t know what. But after a moment, his face crumbles, and he gasps out a sob before launching himself into her arms. Alicia rocks back a bit with the force of it — then catches herself, and holds him tight, rocking him and rubbing circles in his back like she used to do with Flynn.

“I’m here, Danny. I’m here.”

She won’t tell him it’s okay — they both know it’s not.

Maybe they’ll never be okay.

But she’s there for him. And she’ll be there for him, for as long as he needs. Maybe forever, if Maddie was right about ghosts, if Danny is somehow ghostly.

“I’m here.”

She’s there for him when he lets go and leans against her in his exhaustion. She’s there for him when she keeps her arm around him, and they sit, and breathe, and stare out at the lake, under the stars, under the moonlight.

I’m here.

[bridgeportbritt]

Okay, so. First of all this is an awesome question, Sarah! Thank you for sending this. Now, I promise that I had every intention of being chill with this. First I'm like just answer it normally. Then, I thought I could throw some cute little covers together with pics I already had, then it just continued to spiral out of control lol so in true me fashion here are the full covers I created just for this ask hahahah

VOGUE - Ella

So I started with photos I had and this one of Ella from Simblreen last year is one of my favs. I feel like Vogue is very artsy with fashion but loves to highlight women doing the damn thing. So, here's Ella fitting right in with that.

This is long so the rest are under the cut!

SPORTS ILLUSTRATED - Emmitt

So, I've mentioned this before but Emmitt used to be a soccer pro back in his day. He played on his high school's soccer team. There was even talk of him going pro, but his soon after acting out ruined that chance. But, Sports Illustrated def would've been apart of the hyping up of Emmitt's soccer career.

TIME - Diana

Time is known for featuring influential people and who's more influential than a Queen? I got some asks about Royals doing interviews and it got me thinking how rare that is. Things like this happen often without the person's involvement. As you can see, all these photos are from public portraits she's done. Nothing new.

PEOPLE - Bria/Kendall

I really needed an excuse to use these photos I took recently of Bria's first visit to SimDonia for fashion week lol but People is all about gossip and two Simerican influencers visiting or Fashion week makes good gossip. It was hard to think of the side pieces because my worldbuilding was not as fleshed out back then as it is now so enjoy some random stuff lol

FORBES - Bria

This one is kinda sad!!! But, our girl has that business mindset so it only made sense for her to be on this cover. Again, this would be a profile of her, not an interview. The photo is a pap shot of her.

WOMEN'S HEALTH - Olivia

Here's when things took a turn. I did not have a good photo of Olivia for this, so in game we went lol. Next thing you know I'm looking up the exact fonts used for the titles omg. Anyway, Olivia's culinary classes have taught her how to eat better and living with Bria has her working out more. Liv is looking good! But, she's also not about crazy diets so she made sure the cover reflected that. Normally this mag is all about dieting and hating your body garbage. Our good Liv said absolutely not and we love her for it.

MEN'S HEALTH - Gerhard

Poor Gerhard is often getting lost in the background of my story but a lot of his causes are about fitness and health. So, here he is on Men's Health. He did not choose the King of Quads lol Something like this a royal would participate in so they could talk about their charity work.

US WEEKLY - Gianni

Another gossip magazine and this time Gianni is caught in the crossfire. The boys aren't in the tabloids very often especially Grayson as you can see he keeps things very low profile. But, every once in a while something like this will happen. Luckily it's cute and exciting and makes us want to read more!!!

Okay, thank you goodbye.

[littlestarabove]

One Master of Death

➼ pairing: Harry Potter x reader

➼ summary: This drabble illustrates your years with Harry and his friends all leading up to the present… and what a dark present it is.

➼ word count: 13.9k (this is too long to be considered a drabble… oops)

➼ what to expect: “I would say something witty… but my mind is blank.”

➼ additional warnings: angst, character death, deathly hallows part 1 spoilers, almost graphic injuries (if you squint, i don’t like blood either)

➼ talk to my characters!

➼ IF YOU HAVE SEEN THIS SOMEWHERE ELSE, it was posted to a different blog, also owned by ME, so it's still my original work

You never thought it would come to this.

Things didn’t turn out the way you expected them to, and certainly didn’t fall in line with your previous years at Hogwarts had gone.

All your life, being a witch had been a dream. Magic was absolutely fascinating to you. When you received your invitation to join Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you weren’t shocked, scared, or even nervous. You were ecstatic. You’d always known there was magical presence within your life, though your Muggle parents always chalked it up to your over-active imagination. You couldn’t find any other way to explain the strange occurrences when you were sad, angry, scared, or even happy. Objects levitated, valuables shattered, and other unexplainable things happened with your emotions that not even the best doctors could understand.

You could finally tell your family “I told you so,” when your letter came in the mail- well, rather by screech owl. Next thing you knew, after converting all of your allowance to galleons, you were on your way to Diagon Alley.

Now, this place was your dream. Every where you looked, magic inhabited every nook and cranny. You didn’t even know where to start. Of course, you had your list of school supplies, but you weren’t paying it any mind as your head ran ramped with thoughts about where to begin. You hadn’t even arrived at Hogwarts and you were planning out the next seven years of your academic career with extreme detail.

You were wandering aimlessly when you saw her- through the musty window The Magical Menagerie inside of a golden cage- your future companion and confidant. She was the most majestic creature you’d ever seen, and you wanted nothing more than for her to be yours.

You walked out of The Magical Menagerie with your very own screech owl, who you later decided to call Maggie. There was no particular reasoning as to why you picked that name- it just seemed fitting.

Your wand ceremony was probably something you would remember for the remainder of your life. It was one of the most magical and ethereal events you’d experienced in your entire life. The wand that settled on you was made of reed wood, 15 inches long, with a core of dragon heartstring. Mr. Ollivander specified that you were destined for a dramatic, adventured-filled life, but also warned you of the dangers that lied ahead of you.

Whatever that meant. You didn’t take him seriously. You were 11.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

You want to say you met Hermione Granger due to the fact that you’re both amazing people adept with social skills and the ability to integrate with other witches and wizards, but that would be a big, fat lie.

You met her when you both stayed in the library after hours, which resulted in the two of you being locked in for the night until someone came to open it up in the early hours of the morning.

Which wasn’t for a long time.

It was your second year at Hogwarts, and this mistake was understandable… for a first year. Had you been 11, you wouldn’t have been so hard on yourself. But, no, you were at the grand age of 12 years old, you should know better.

That’s what your tween brain thought, at least. You used to look back on this memory with Hermione and laugh.

Speak of the devil, this is how you got to know the brilliant witch, through forced socialization behind the locked doors of the dimly lit library.

“Guess we’re stuck here, huh?” you were the first to speak. Hermione looked up at you and nodded.

“Guess we are.” She pouted.

“I’m Y/N L/N.” You stuck your hand out for Hermione to shake, which she did, politely.

“I’m Hermione Granger.” She smiled brightly, to which you returned.

“So… how did you end up in here past closing?” you asked cautiously.

“I simply lost track of time, I was looking for something.” Hermione explained vaguely, the both of you seated hopelessly in front of the doors to the exit. You sighed deeply.

“I fell asleep on my book.” you admitted. Hermione giggled, which pulled a laugh of your own through your throat.

“The boys are never going to let me live this one down.” Hermione sighed with a hopeless grin. You tilted your head at her.

“The boys?” you questioned curiously. Hermione smiled sheepishly. “My friends, Harry and Ron. They’re going to tease me about this endlessly.” Hermione chuckled.

“Harry? As in, Harry Potter?” you questioned, to which Hermione confirmed with a nod. “I’ve seen him around, but never here.”

Hermione snorted and shook her head. “That’s because I don’t think they’ve ever set foot in the library.” she snickered.

“That’s a shame, I love it in here. It’s where I belong.” You joked, beaming.

“I practically live in here, how come I’ve never seen you before?” Hermione inquired with confusion. Your cheeks turned a dull shade of red as you ducked your head.

“I sit near the back, it’s quieter back there.” You explained nervously.

“Ah, that would be why. I sit near the front.” Hermione giggled.

Next thing you knew, the two of you were chatting and sharing life stories while playing with the cards with a pack that you had buried in one of your robe pockets.

“What are you actually doing stuck here, Hermione?” you raised an eyebrow as you adjusted your hand of cards. Hermione sighed in defeat.

“I guess I could tell you. I’m looking for a recipe for polyjuice potion.” she admitted as she scanned her remaining cards.

“Wow, that’s quite complicated, I hear. I’m impressed. What do you need it for?”

“We’re trying to figure out who the heir of Slytherin is, and we need the potion to sneak into their common room undetected.” Hermione explained thoroughly.

“Oh, that rumor with the horrid message written in blood on the wall? I thought it was all an elaborate prank, but then the professors began to worry, so I knew it was serious.” You clarified with a grimace.

“We think it’s Malfoy.” Hermione announced. You snorted. “Doesn’t everyone? Malfoy is the perfect git to be the heir to a Muggle hating wizard.” you grumbled.

Hermione laughed. “Ron and Harry would like you, you’re funny and you hate Malfoy. That’s two things they look for in a person.” Hermione joked with a hint of seriousness.

“I think I would like them as well.” you smiled with a polite undertone.

Hermione looked at her cards and groaned. “I fold.” She placed her cards face down. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I thought we were playing go-fish?”

The two of you burst into a fit a laughter. That was the night that began a lasting friendship between two extraordinary witches.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡ Hermione determinedly strode towards the library with Ron and Harry in tow.

“Hermione, why are we in such a rush?” Ron whined as he struggled to keep up with her fast pace. Hermione huffed.

“I’ve got a friend keeping the book we need safe. We’re already late meeting her there.” Hermione explained in exasperation.

The trio burst through the doors to the library and Hermione began to scan the crowd when she remembered something important.

“She sits near the back, come on.” Hermione waved urgently as she began her path to the back of the library.

She peeked into every row with the hope of finding you sitting alone with the book you’d promised to find in your free time. Much to Hermione’s surprise, you weren’t as close to the back as she had originally thought. She found you in no time.

“There you are! I was beginning to worry.” You noticed them as they came barreling down towards you, all with heavy breathing.

“Sorry. Lost track of time.” Hermione apologized. You shook your head.

“No worries. I’ve got the book here.” You shook the book in your hand to indicate your findings.

Harry and Ron stood utterly confused behind Hermione as she took a seat without hesitation.

“Who are you?” Ron asked quite bluntly. Hermione groaned.

“Must you be so direct?” Hermione gestured to you. “Harry, Ron, this is Y/N. Y/N, this Harry, and that’s Ron.” Hermione pointed to each boy respectively. You beamed widely at them.

“Pleasure to meet you both.” neither of them replied, only stared at you.

“Warm welcome.” you chuckled awkwardly. Hermione noticed your distress and hurried to confront the boys.

“Be polite. She’s helping us.” Hermione gestured violently for them to sit. They both did as they were told.

You tried your best to ignore the fact that Hermione might as well have promised that you would be well-liked by her friends. You chewed on the inside of your cheek nervously as you presented Hermione with the book you’d promised her.

In the dark nook, you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddled around the book entitled “Moste Potente Potions.” The spotted pages were littered with disturbing illustrations.

You flipped to your book mark and dragged your finger under the sub title.

“Here it is: ’The Polyjuice Potion. Properly brewed, the Polyjuice Potion allows the drinker to transform himself temporarily into the physical form of another’…” You read directly from the text, trailing off as you reached the end of the important information.

“You mean, Harry and I drink some of this stuff and we turn into Crabbe and Goyle?” Ron leaned forward to clarify his suspicions.

“Yes.” Hermione assured. Ron beamed widely.

“Wicked! Malfoy’ll tell us anything!” Ron exclaimed excitedly.

“Exactly. But, it’s tricky. I’ve never seen a more complicated potion. Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed. And, of course, we’ll need a bit of whoever we want to change into too.” Hermione worried her bottom lip as she read over the ingredients for the overly complicated and advanced potion.

“Hang on now. I’m drinking nothing with Crabbe’s toenails in it.” Ron grumbled with a grimace.

“How long will it take to make?” Harry leaned forward over Ron’s shoulder to take a more intricate peek at the instructions.

“It looks like a month.” you scanned over the pages carefully.

“A month? But if Malfoy is the heir of Slytherin… he could attack half the Muggle-borns in the school by then.” Harry cautioned. Hermione shivered.

“As if people like us need more reason to be targeted by Malfoy.” You placed your chin in the palm of your hand with a pout.

Hermione beamed. “You’re a Muggle-born as well? I knew we were going to be great friends.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Harry and Ron made their exit from their library as you and Hermione remained seated to further study the potion to better learn the ins and outs.

Ron pulled Harry aside with a worried expression. “I don’t think Y/N being in our group is a good idea. We do not need another Hermione to nag us about every little thing.” Ron was practically livid. Harry shrugged.

“I dunno. I think it would be nice to have another girl around. Someone… to keep Hermione occupied.” Harry’s lie wasn’t the most clever, but he figured it was enough to throw Ron off his scent. Quite frankly, the prospect of having another girl join their group made Harry quite flustered, especially due to the fact that you’re probably one of the prettiest 12-year-olds he’d ever seen. But, of course, it didn’t take much to convince Ron otherwise.

“You’re right. That would be a big weight off our own shoulders.” Ron agreed. Harry smiled in spite of his lie.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Third Year

Silence. A room of shadows. While those around him slumbered, Harry lied awake, unable to sleep. Finally, he turned to his cupboard, took out the Marauder’s Map, and whispered,

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The crooked corridors and serpentine passageways of Hogwarts radiated across the parchment, then… a tiny dot caught Harry’s eye. He frowned. It read: “Peter Pettigrew.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Harry moved down a dark corridor, map in hand, wand aglow. In the paintings he passed, the subjects snored softly.

Harry’s and Peter’s figures on the map drew closer and closer.

Harry squinted toward the end of the corridor. Down at the map. Pettigrew moved quickly down the adjoining corridor. Twenty yards away. Ten. Only seconds away…

Wand trembling in his hand, Harry glanced from the map to the dark corridor ahead, again and again. Then… as the two dots were about to collide… he looked slowly up, turned the corner, heart in his chest… and met-

You?

“Oh! Harry!” You exclaim as you nearly rammed right into Harry.

Harry blinked, startled, then glanced down at the map. Pettigrew had moved past him, but your figure stood adjacent to his. Odd, how hadn’t he noticed that before?

“Y/N. What are you doing down here?” Harry raised an eyebrow in question. You were quick to explain yourself.

“Hermione wanted to conduct some research on werewolves… can’t imagine why… but she mentioned something about it being far too late for her, so I went instead.” You gestured to all the rolls of parchment in your arms- your diligent notes.

“I was just on my way back… hold on, what are you doing up at this hour, Harry?” you redirected the conversation onto Harry. He froze.

“Um… well…” Harry glanced down at the map, flustered, and back up to you.

“Is that the Marauder’s Map? The Weasley twins mentioned that they gave it to you.” You pointed at the map in curiosity. Harry’s expression turned confused, but, yet again, you were quick to clarify.

“I was helping them set up a prank… they needed to know the precise angle a… certain bucket had to be placed at on the top of a… certain professor’s door.” you grinned sheepishly rocking on your heels. Harry smiled softly.

“I was just… looking for someone. I think the map is mistaken… says Peter Pettigrew is heading… that way.” Harry pointed in the direction he’d come from. You follow his finger.

“Pettigrew? Hermione mentioned he was dead.” You shrugged. Harry mimicked your actions.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s follow it.” you gestured in the direction that Harry had pointed to. Confused but excited, Harry turns on his heel to follow you, casting his wand along the walls.

“Watch it there, boy!”

You and Harry jumped. But it was only an old man in a painting, scowling in the glare of Harry’s wand light. On the map, Pettigrew continued to move away. Harry made to follow, with you in tow, then stopped, hearing footsteps. The wand’s spot danced across the parchment, and found another dot. Approaching fast: Severus Snape.

“Put it away!” You hissed urgently. Harry fumbled to put the tip of his wand on the map. “Mischief managed!” He stashed the map away, extinguishing his wand, and turned… into the harsh glare of Snape’s wand.

“Potter.” Snape sneered. Snape moved his wand slightly to the left and illuminated you, grinning sheepishly.

“L/N.” He grumbled.

“What’re you two doing wandering the corridors at night?” Snape questioned.

“We were… we were sleepwalking…”

A sneer curdled the corner of Snape’s lips.

“How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter. He, too, was exceedingly arrogant. Strutting about the castle-”

“My dad didn’t strut. Nor do I. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate you lowering your wand.” Harry straightened and nodded towards Snape’s wand, aimed directly to his face and nearly blinding him.

Snape eyed Harry coldly, containing himself. He lowered his wand.

“Turn out… your pockets, the both of you.” Snape demanded.

You nor Harry moved, Harry’s eyes still boring into Snape.

“Turn out your pockets!”

Finally, the both of you obliged. You turned up with nothing but your scrolls. But, seeing the map, Snape’s eyes glittered.

“And this. What might it be?” He asked.

“Spare bit of parchment…” You came up with hastily. Your mind worked quickly when it came to confrontation, it was one of your skills.

“Really…” Snape poised his wand over the map. “Reveal your secrets!”

To both of your horror, words began to appear. Snape studied you both, a sadistic half-smile on his lips. He turned the map your way.

“Read it.” Snape ordered.

“Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs… offer their compliments to Professor Snape… and…” Harry glanced up at professor Snape after reading the rest, unsure.

“Go on.” Snape urged. You leaned over Harry’s shoulder and snorted.

“And request that he keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business.” You snickered, your eyes locked with Snape’s.

Snape’s smile drooped. “Why you insolent little-”

“Professor?”

Snape turned to see Professor Lupin standing in the shadows.

“Well, well. Lupin. Out for a little walk in the moonlight, are we?” Snape sneered.

“Harry? Y/N? You all right?”

“That remains to be seen. I’ve just now confiscated a rather curious artifact from Mr. Potter and Miss L/N. Take a look, Lupin. This is supposed to be your area of expertise.” Snape snatched the parchment from Harry’s grip and presented it to Lupin. Lupin took the parchment, which now displayed a rather unflattering caricature of Snape and a pair of potions.

“Clearly, it’s full of dark magic.” Snape continued.

“I seriously doubt that, Severus. it looks to me as if it merely insults anyone who tries to read it. It suspect it’s a Zonko product. Nevertheless, I shall pursue any hidden qualities it may possess. As you say, it’s my area of expertise. Come, Harry, Y/N.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

The two of you walked aside a fuming Lupin, who gripped the map fiercely.

“I don’t know how this map came to be in your possessions, Harry, Y/N, but I’m astounded that you didn’t turn it in immediately. Especially you, Miss L/N. For all that time you spend with Granger, I would have expected her behavior to rub off on you in some way.” Lupin fumed. You hung your head. Lupin directed his next comment to Harry.

“Harry, did you ever stop to think that this- in the hands of Sirius Black- is a map to-”

Lupin stops when he realizes that he and Harry were not alone, and stops himself from going any further. Harry waved his hands in defense. “Don’t worry, Professor… she knows… about Sirius.” Harry was referring to the information Hermione had entrusted you with recently- About Harry’s relation to Sirius and the plot against him.

You nodded in confirmation. Lupin sighed with an expression of relief.

“A map to you?” he finished. Harry walked alongside silently, you hot on his heels. Lupin could barely contain his anger.

“Your father didn’t set much store by rules either. But he and your mother did give their lives to save yours. Gambling their sacrifice by walking about the castle unprotected, with a killer on the loose, strikes me as a poor way to repay them. I won’t cover for you again, Harry.”

Lupin entered his office, tossed the map on his desk, and began to sort through some papers. You and Harry lingered briefly in the doorway. You absently eyed the waxing moon that glimmered beyond the window, then stared to turn away.

“Professor. Just so you know, I don’t think the map always works. Earlier, it showed someone in the castle. Someone I know to be dead.” You directed your attention to Lupin, away from the moon.

“And who was that, Y/N?” He was only half-listening.

“Peter Pettigrew.” Harry finished.

Lupin hesitated ever-so-slightly, then returned to his papers.

“Very well. I’d like you to return to your dormitories now. Oh, and don’t take any detours.”

As you and Harry looked back, Lupin tapped the map. “If you do, I’ll know.” Lupin smirked slightly.

You and Harry rounded the corner and set on the path back to the Gryffindor common room.

The moment you’re out of sight of Lupin’s office, your burst into a fit of giggles, catching Harry by surprise.

“That was amazing. When you spend all of your time with Hermione, you never almost get caught like that! Oh, it was exhilarating.” you sighed happily, turning to Harry.

“I… never would have thought that you liked things of the sort.” Harry nervously scratched the nape of his neck as the two of you neared the common room.

“There’s a lot you’ll have to learn about me, Harry. I’ll see you later?” You murmured the password to the common room and stepped inside, Harry not far behind. You moved to disappear up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories when Harry stopped you.

“Have breakfast with us tomorrow.” he blurted. It was enough to stop you in your tracks and to make you turn to face him.

“Hm. I suppose I could. I’ll see you there, Potter.” you disappeared around the staircase.

Harry smiled to himself, his heart pitter-pattering in his chest as he stared off in the direction you disappeared in.

Oh dear, was he in trouble now.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Fourth Year

It was almost as if your fourth year (so far) had gone by in a blur. You arrived at school, got a new, suspiciously shady professor, and all of a sudden, Harry as a contestant in the infamous Triwizard Tournament. You were worried because of what the tournament was infamous for- severe injury and competition to the death.

You, Hermione, Ron, and Harry were sat in the Great Hall, scowling at the latest addition of the Daily Prophet. Hermione had been made out to look like she was after two famous wizards- Viktor Krum and Harry. She was livid, but you all managed to distract her for a limited period of time.

“Parcel for you, Mr. Weasley.” a small boy approached the table and presented Ron with a particularly large parcel.

“Ah, thank you, Nigel.”

The boy stared in jittery awe at Harry.

“Not now, Nigel.” Ron urged Nigel off.

As Nigel stumbled off, you, Harry, and Hermione eyed Ron. He shrugged.

“I told him I’d get him Harry’s autograph. Hey look. Mum’s sent me something… Mum’s sent me a dress.”

Harry watched Ron lift a lace-trimmed gown from the box.

“Does match your eyes. Is there a bonnet? Ah- hah!” Harry pulled a matching little collar from the box and tossed it at Ron. You giggled from beside Harry, not-so-subtly drinking a sip of pumpkin juice to hide it.

“Nose down, Harry.” Ron grumbled. He moved to Ginny hopefully. “Hey, Ginny. This must be for you.”

Ginny grimaced at the manky old thing. “I’m not wearing that. It’s ghastly.” She gasped as she laid eyes on it.

Hermione, back of her hand pressed to her mouth, suppressed a laugh.

“What are you on about?” Ron grumbled.

“They’re not for Ginny. They’re for you. Dress robes.” Hermione clarified with a smile.

“Dress robes? For what?” Ron panicked.

Professor McGonagall seemed to appear out of no where, making herself known by answering Ron’s question. “The Yule Ball. Which, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to you about, Potter.”

Harry nodded as he let McGonagall pull him off to the side to speak to him privately.

“The Yule Ball, Professor?” Harry questioned as they were out of earshot from his friends.

“It’s traditional during the Triwizard Tournament for the host school to put on a Christmas ball. It is also traditional for the three Champions- or in this case four- to be the first to dance.”

Harry cocked his head, as if he had water in his ear.

“Dance? With a girl?” His voice shook slightly with the question.

“Traditionally with a young lady, yes. Why don’t you take…” McGonagall searched the area where Harry’s friends sat for a suitable date. Her eyes settled on you and she smiled.

“Miss L/N? You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with her, recently. And she’s a lovely girl. A lot like your friend, Miss Granger.” McGonagall beamed as she gestured to you.

Harry followed her line of sight as his eyes settled on you as well. You sat in your seat quietly, sipping absentmindedly on your goblet of pumpkin juice as you watch Hermione and Ron converse heatedly about the condition of his ancient dress robes.

You open your mouth and make some kind of remark, which Harry can’t hear, but it caused Hermione to laugh whole-heartedly, which Ron soon joined in reluctantly, and even Ginny snickered to herself.

Harry beamed unconsciously. “She is lovely, isn’t she?” He sighed. McGonagall’s smile widened but Harry quickly caught himself.

“Oh, um, I mean, I could… ask Y/N. As friends, of course.” He added hastily. McGonagall’s smile slightly faltered but she continued nonetheless.

“I leave that decision up to you, Potter. But know this: the House of Godric Gryffindor has a reputation as long as it is illustrious. It demands and receives the respect of the entire wizard world. No house has produced more witches and wizards of consequence. You stand upon the shoulders of giants, Potter. Shame yourself and you shame all who came before you.”

Just then, a commotion was heard. Turning, McGonagall watched Seamus pelt Dean Thomas with a custard pie.

McGonagall’s face dropped.

So much for honoring the house of Gryffindor.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

The entire rank and file of Godric Gryffindor’s current roster- girls on one side, boys on the other, stood before a fierce McGonagall in what you could only conclude as some sort of dance class.

“You have to get a grip! Your behavior barely rises to the level of the common toadstool! I WILL NOT HAVE IT!”

The students exchanged nervous glances.

“Now. To dance is to let the body…” McGonagall took a deep breath as demonstration, “… breathe. Inside every girl a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst free and take flight. Inside each boy, a lordly lion, prepared to prance.” McGonagall illustrated.

“Something may be about to burst out of Eloise Midgen, but I don’t think it’s a swan.” Ron snickered.

“Mr. Weasley.”

“Yes?” Ron jumped and yelled his response, surprised to have been caught.

“Would you join me, please?” McGonagall glared intensely.

Ron glanced about in a panic, then slumped forward like a man heading to the gallows.

“Now then, if you will, put your left hand on my waist…”

“Where?!”

“My waist, Mr. Weasley.”

Grudgingly, Ron obeyed. As Fred and George whistle, Ron raised his right hand in a rude rejoinder when McGonagall closed her hand over his just in the nick of time.

“That’s right, extend your arm… and, Mr. Filch, if you would…”

Filch dropped the needle onto an old record player and a musty waltz filled the courtyard. Instantly, Neville smiled, bobbing his head, as if transported by the music.

“And one and two…” McGonagall kept the tempo skillfully.

“Oi!” Harry leaned back to Fred and George, who leaned forward to accommodate his height.

“Never going to let him forget this, are you?” Harry grinned. Fred and George shook their heads.

“Never. ” They replied incredibly in sync.

“Everyone! Come together…” McGonagall urged as she continued her waltz with a reluctant Ron.

The music swelled as the girls and boys nervously crossed the divide and began to pair off.

You shuffled anxiously through the crowd, watching as it seemed that every girl had a partner save for you.

You could feel your anxiety begin to spike and your self-esteem drop to an all-time low when-

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing over here all alone?”

You spun around quickly at the familiar voice and found the teasing face of Harry Potter standing before you. You sighed in relief.

“Oh, um… just observing, I guess.” You replied unconvincingly.

“Don’t observe. Come dance. I need practice.” Harry took your hand and led you to the floor.

Harry placed his his over your rib-cage while you placed your hands on his shoulder and in his other hand. You giggled.

“Harry, your hand goes on my waist, dear.” you mimicked McGonagall the best you could. Harry snorted with a faint flush dusting the apples of his cheeks in the most flattering way.

“I know.” He scoffed. You rolled your eyes and removed your hand from his shoulder to encase it over his wrist and pushed it down on to your lower waist.

“You do need practice, Potter.” you moved your feet according to the music as Harry clumsily attempted to mimic you. He did end up stepping quite harshly on your toes, however.

“Ow!” You gasped, removing your hands from him to hop on one foot.

“Sorry! I’m just… extremely uncoordinated.” Harry groaned at himself. You dusted off your now unpolished uniform shoe and waved him off assuringly.

“That’s what this class is for. Just follow my lead.” You nodded down to your feet and Harry followed your eyes.

“One, two, three… one, two, three…” You began softly as you moved slowly to accommodate Harry’s speed.

“How do you know so much about dancing?” Harry asked without taking his eyes from both of your feet.

“My parents are Muggles, I attended cotillion as a child.” you reminded with a smile. Harry looked up at you, realizing your faces were in very close proximity.

“Well… um… lucky me, I guess.” He chucked nervously. You beamed brightly at him, resulting in his heart jumping into his throat and being unable to keep himself quiet.

“Would you teach me how to dance?” He blurted instinctively. Your mind blanked for a moment as you were making sure you heard him correctly.

“I just… McGonagall told me not to embarrass Gryffindor and I thought that I should take some lessons from someone with dancing experience…” Harry avoided eye contact with you. Your heart sank into your stomach. Why on earth did you think he was going to ask you to be his date? You’re only friends.

“Oh, um… right, yeah. Sure. I’ll teach you a few things.” You tried to keep your voice from shaking, but the disappointment was clearly present.

Harry grinned half-heartedly. “Great.”

If only the both of you knew how much the other’s heart was sinking down into the depths of hopelessness.

You were beginning to think Gryffindor, known for courage, was not the house for you. You wondered what was going through the sorting hat’s mind when he placed you.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

After a few days of unsuccessfully acquiring a Yule Ball date, Harry made his way to the Owlery, which stood like a stranded scarecrow in a sea of white. Suddenly, an owl fluttered forth and Harry halted. Footsteps sounded and a figure descended the Owlery’s snow-laden stairs, flickering in and our of view. Seconds later, a girl appeared.

Cho.

“Harry.” Cho acknowledged.

“Cho.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment. Cho gestured all around. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” She questioned quietly. Harry nodded.

“Yeah, splendid.” he replied.

He glanced away, face hidden from Cho, and grimaced, mouthing ‘splendid’ in miserable mortification.

“Well, watch yourself on the stairs. A bit icy at the top.” Cho informed bashfully as she intended to make her leave.

“Okay. Thanks.” But as she smiled and turned, Harry pressed further. “Cho!”

He said this so forcefully, she nearly stumbled stopping. “Yes?”

“I just wondered if, maybe, you… wannagoballwime?”

“Sorry… I didn’t catch that?”

Harry collected himself with a deep inhale and repeated his question, “I wondered if you’d like to… to… go to the ball with me?”

Cho’s face fell grimly. “Oh. Harry. I’m sorry. But someone’s already asked me and I’ve said I’ll go. With him.”

“Oh. Well, good. I mean… okay. No problem.” Harry looked away, flexing his fingers within his mittens. Cho chewed her lip, frowning, then turned away. As she went, Harry exhaled, shaking his head, when-

“Harry?”

He looked up and saw her staring him straight in the eye.

“I really am… sorry.” She turned then, and Harry watched her dash back toward the distant castle, filling his footprints with her own.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

“Hermione! You’ll never believe what happened!” you rushed quickly to Hermione’s side the moment you entered the common room and found her in one of the comfortable arm chairs. She silently urged you to finish your statement.

“Dean Thomas asked me to the ball.” You bit your lip in excitement and Hermione beamed. “Congratulations! I knew you’d find a date in no time.” Hermione grinned.

From a distance, Harry could hear every word. His heart sank into his stomach. You were plan A, of course, but plan B ended up unfolding before he could stop himself. Now you weren’t a plan at all.

Suddenly, Ron tripped through the portrait hole, staggered across the room, and collapsed into a chair. He looked shell-shocked. Ginny, who’d accompanied him, fought hard to suppress a smile.

“What happened to you?” Harry asked curiously.

“He’s just asked out Fleur Delacour.” Ginny answered quickly.

“What?!”

“What’s she say?” Harry added before Hermione’s shock could be voiced further.

“No, of course.” Hermione guessed. But, in a pleat of doubt, “She did say no…?”

Ron shook his head.

“She said yes?!”

“Of course not! I don’t know what got into me. There she was… walking by… you know how I like it when they walk… and I couldn’t help it… it just sort of… slipped out.”

“Actually, he sort of screamed at her. It was a bit frightening.” Ginny grimaced.

“So what’d you do then?” Harry pushed.

“What else? I ran for it. I’m not cut out for this, Harry.” Ron groaned tiredly.

As they were all conversing, the Patil twins strode by, arm in arm with each other. They each glance at each other and in unison, “Hi Harry.” and they were gone as quickly as they had appeared.

Harry murmurs a half-hearted greeting before doing a double take in the direction they’d strode off in.

“Don’t worry. I think I’ve got an idea…”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

“Hello, boys.” The Patil twins greeted in unison.

Parvati and Padma, doubly delightful in shocking pink and bright turquoise respectively, waited below for their dates.

“Don’t you look… dashing.” Parvati’s eyes raked over Ron’s robes as she took Harry’s arm. Padma stared in open horror. Just then, McGonagall appeared, looking a bit flustered.

“There you are, Potter!” McGonagall called as she urgently made her way through the crowd to Harry and Ron.

“You and Miss Patil will wait here and enter with the other champions. Weasley…” she faltered, goggling at Ron’s robes, then collected herself.

“… you and Miss Patil may proceed inside, to the Great Hall.” she ushered them to the entrance.

“C'mon then.” As Ron dragged Padma off, she looked back desperately to her sister. Parvati just shook her head.

“We have a cousin who dresses like that.”

Just then, a gust of win stirred in the air and the Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students filed inside. As Fleur Delacour appeared, her silk wrap flew free, fluttering like a dove into the air, leading Harry’s eye to… Cho, who arrived hand in hand with Cedric Diggory.

“Omigod. She looks… Beautiful.” Parvati mumbled in disbelief.

Harry nodded glumly, staring at Cho, then realized Parvati was looking not at Cho, but a girl in blue robes.

Her hair was twisted in an elegant but messy knot with glittering butterfly barrettes littered amongst her locks to enhance the mystical facade, swan’s neck shining. She was simply ethereal. She was…

You.

“I know I’m late! Couldn’t figure out the button on the back of my dress.” You turned to demonstrate the intricate backing of your dress.

Harry remained speechless as you turned back around to face him with a wide smile. “You look handsome, my friend.” You slightly played with the collar of his dress robe, but Harry still didn’t utter a word.

“Close your mouth, Harry. We’re not a codfish.” You quoted one of your favorite Disney movies.

When he still didn’t reply, your teasing smile faltered for a worried expression. “Seriously, Harry. What’s wrong? Is my makeup smudged?” you patted your face to ensure that nothing was wrong.

“Oh! Nothing’s wrong… you just look…” Harry was quite unable to finish his sentence and you frowned.

“Is it that bad?” You looked down at your dress with your heart thumping in your chest.

“No, not at all. Quite the opposite actually… you’re stunning.” Harry’s eyes scanned you up and down. The smile returned to your features.

“Thank you… Hermione helped, of course.” You giggled bashfully.

“Well… erm, Dean is.. waiting for me so… I better go. I’m sure you’ll be expected to dance first.” You chewed the inside of your cheek anxiously, and Harry nodded.

“Right, yeah, you go. Have fun. I’ll see you later.” Harry’s arm was taken by Parvati. You nodded as well.

“See you.” You turned to disappear into the crowd to find your date. Harry watched you go longingly. Parvati smiled to herself, but said nothing nonetheless.

A path of light spilled from the Entrance Hall, revealing a darkened hall glimmering with icicles and mistletoe. The house tables had vanished, replaced by dozens of smaller ones, each glowing with lantern light around a central dance floor. Flitwick conducted a string quartet.

As the champions entered, applause arose. Fleur led the way, on the arms of a stunned-looking Ravenclaw boy (Roger Davies), while Harry and Parvati entered last, Parvati waving like a beauty queen. Harry scanned the room for Ron and found him, staring open-mouthed at Hermione as she passed with Krum.

“Is that Hermione Granger? With Viktor Krum?” Padma Patil was in shock.

“No. Absolutely not.” Ron denied with the curt shake of his head.

As the champions reached the dance floor, Flitwick’s baton froze in mid-air- bringing the hall to a hush.

“Take my waist.” Parvati urged forcefully when Harry didn’t move.

“Huh? Oh… right.” Harry places his hand on her waist and took her hand when Flitwick’s baton dropped and the waltz began.

“Go. Now!”

More out of fear than anything else, Harry took a step and then another. The music swelled. Fleur swept past, rigid as a queen. Next was Cho, dark eyes glimmering as they briefly met Harry’s own. Finally, Hermione- adrift in Krum’s strong arms- shot Harry a goofy, excited grin.

Dumbledore led McGonagall from the Tall Table and, with a short bow, swept her onto the floor, where they danced formally, beautifully. Quickly, the remainder of the staff paired off and joined them. Even Madame Maxime yielded to Hagrid and his horrible suit, though she casted her eyes askance while in his arms. Only Moody remained on the sidelines, eye whirling madly in time to the waltz.

Finally, the students converged, led by Neville, who glided like Astaire, much to the astonishment of his date- Ginny Weasley. Lost in the crush, Harry felt less self-conscious about his own clumsy feet and actually managed to smile.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Later in the evening, a jagged razor burn of guitars, courtesy of the Weird Sisters, shattered the calm as the dance floor was now a mosh pit, hopping with bodies.

Fred’s hand reached up and snapped off one of the icicles and slipped it down the back of Angelina’s robes and she squealed, darting after him, passing Hermione and Krum. Hermione yelled above the din.

“Her-my-oh-nee!”

“Herm… own… ninny?”

She started to correct him, then shrugged. “Close enough.”

Harry and Ron sat watching grimly from the sidelines, while Padma and Parvati sat on opposite sides of them, arms crossed in aggravation. Ron eyed Krum lethally.

“Ruddy pumpkinhead, isn’t he?” he grumbled.

Harry’s eyes shifted from yours and Dean’s gyrating figures.

“Well, I don’t think it was the books that had him going to the library.”

A handsome Durmstrang boy approached Parvati, who looked ready to put a gun to her head.

“May I haff your arm?”

“Arm. Leg. I’m yours.” Parvati exited eagerly, following the boy at his heels.

Harry watched as Hermione pulled you from the crowd and your date, both with beautiful smiles as you approached the boys. Hermione dropped into Parvati’s vacant chair, flush from dancing. You stood awfully close to Harry, causing him to tense.

“Whew! Hot, isn’t it? Viktor and Dean have gone to get drinks. Care to join us?” Hermione asked cheerfully.

“No, we would not care to join you and… Viktor.” Ron spat his name like venom, and Hermione’s smile disappeared along with your own.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Hermione seemed offended.

“He’s from Durmstrang! You’re fraternizing with the enemy!” Ron accused loudly. You scoffed.

“The enemy? Who was it wanting his autograph? Besides, the whole point of the Tournament is international magical cooperation. To make friends.” Hermione clarified angrily.

“I think he’s got a bit more than friendship in mind.” Ron grumbled to himself. Your mouth dropped open.

“What are you suggesting?” your voice had dropped an octave, indicating your aggravation.

Harry spun around to face you, and instead of voicing his jealousy, voiced his frustration.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? With Dean as well. You’re friends with Margaret Stone, aren’t you? That’s who Dean’s really after. Heard him talking about it the other day.” Harry huffed and sat back in his seat with crossed arms.

It wasn’t a total lie; Harry had heard Dean talking about Margaret Stone, but it wasn’t the other day. It was about a year ago.

You stood taken aback by Harry’s words. Not once had you heard him speak in this tone of voice, especially to you.

“W-… what do you mean?” You could feel your voice wavering as Hermione looked up at you.

“Y/N. He doesn’t mean it.” She urged. Harry stood.

“Well, of course I meant it! You’re easy enough to go out with and get closer to Stone without a second glance from anyone. Thought you were smarter than that. Aren’t you supposed to be like Hermione?” Harry’s arms remained crossed as he glared at you with fury.

But he quickly regretted his words when he watched as your eyes welled up with tears, threatening to spill over as you bit your bottom lip to keep from quivering.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Dean with two drinks in hand, looking confused between you and Harry. “What’s going on?”

You choked on a sob that threatened to rip through your throat and dashed off, brushing past Dean on your way. Hermione glared at both Ron and Harry before jumping up to chase after you. “Y/N! That’s not true!” She called after you.

Dean spared Harry and confused glance before turning off in the same direction to follow you.

“Are you going to ask me to dance or not?” Padma asked Ron as she sulked.

“No.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

As Ron and Harry exited, after the fiasco with Hermione, Ron broke off by himself in a rage. Harry found himself alone, Parvati no where to be found, not that he cared at all where she was.

He rounded the corner out of the Great Hall and found you, leaning against a wall and dabbing under your eyes so as to keep your tears from ruining your makeup.

The two of you make eye contact and you froze.

“Y/N-”

“No, don’t touch me.” you jerked away from his grip like you’d been burnt with a ragged breath, avoiding eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. I didn’t mean it like that…” Harry began slowly, gauging your reaction.

“Harry, you humiliated me in front of Ron and his date, your date, and Hermione, and might as well have embarrassed me in front of Dean.” You moved to cover your face with your hand to hide your expression.

Though Harry knows what he’d done, the thought still made his heart wrench. He’d made you cry, and he never wanted to be the cause of that, not now, not ever.

“That’s… not what I meant to do.” Harry sighed in spite of himself.

You looked away from dabbing under your eyes and up at Harry, watching as his face filled with genuine concern.

“What did you mean, then?” you sniffled, averting your eyes to the ground as you gripped your heels in your hand.

Harry was taken aback at your question. You were giving him a chance to explain himself. He wasn’t daft enough to waste this opportunity.

“I was just frustrated, and I wanted to look out for you… I didn’t want you to get hurt.” Harry’s shoulders slouched as he began to explain himself. You slowly gained the courage to glance up at him as he spoke.

You exhaled deeply, “Dean was overrated, anyway…” you sniffled again, a small smile spreading across your face.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion. You sighed exaggeratedly and threw yourself at Harry and wrapped your arms around his neck, your cheek pressed against his shoulder.

Harry grunted and stumbled back from the impact, his arms wrapping themselves around your form. He let out a breath he didn’t know had been stuck in his throat at your action, but smiled nonetheless.

“This whole night has been a disaster. Take me home, Harry.” you buried your face into his robe as you let your eyes relax and your tired brain rest.

“Oh, um, okay…” Harry gave a brief stroke to your slightly more messy, but still gracefully decorated hair.

“But you’ve gotta help me out, here.” Harry chuckled as he attempted to lift you. You groaned and secured your arms more tightly around his neck and jumped, allowing Harry’s arm to fold under your legs and hoist you up, bridal style.

He managed to bring you the rest of the way to the common room, but you somehow managed to fall asleep on the journey. Harry chuckled to himself when he noticed you’d gone limp and your jaw had fallen slack.

Through that disaster of a night, Harry learned that all friends fight, but the ones who stayed true were the ones that persisted.

He only hoped that his friendship with you would be a result of persistence.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Fifth Year

Harry quietly dismissed the weekly gathering of Dumbledore’s Army for the Christmas holiday. The progress they’d made was impeccable, incredible, and some might dare say, unfathomable.

Though, the tragic death of Cedric Diggory in the past year at Hogwarts had taken a tole on every student, especially one student in particular; Cho Chang.

She remained in the classroom, staring longingly at a cut-out clipping of Cedric’s portrait when he’d participated in the Triwizard Tournament that was taped to a musty mirror.

Harry approached her from behind, cautious so as to not startle her.

“Are you alright?” He asked carefully, keeping his voice as level as he could.

“I heard Umbridge gave you a rough time the other day.” He continued when he knew he had her attention.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Cho glanced down at her scaring hand, matching many other trouble makers in the school.

“Anyways, it was worth it.” Her gaze returned to Cedric’s, the moving picture smiled back at them as if it knew they were watching it.

“It’s just… it’s just, learning all this… makes me wonder, whether he’d known it.” Cho observed the room carefully with a longing expression. Harry was quick to assure her.

“Cedric- Cedric did know this stuff. He was really good. It’s just… Voldemort was better.” Harry decided on.

Cho cast her eyes down to the floor, then back up at Harry. “You’re a really good teacher, Harry.” In response, Harry smiled shortly.

“I’ve never been able to stun anything before.” Cho grinned cheekily

A faint rustling came from above the two, causing Cho to look up curiously. What she spotted was mistletoe, curiously growing from the ceiling above them with haste.

“Mistletoe.” Cho whispered quietly. Harry was still fascinated by the plant’s growth above them.

His eyes returned to Cho’s face, but couldn’t think of anything worth saying. “Probably full of Nargles, though.” He blurted.

“What are Nargles?” Cho asked with confusion. Harry shrugged.

“No idea.” They wasted no more time and brought themselves together to seal the silence in a tender kiss. Harry’s first, it happened to be.

“Sorry to barge in, but I forgot my-”

You stopped dead in your tracks when you found the couple snogging in the middle of the practice room. You found yourself speechless as your heart shattered into thousands of pieces at the sight.

Harry and Cho separated immediately when they both acknowledged your presence. “Oh… Y/N.” Harry scratched the nape of his neck and avoided eye contact with you.

“Dear Merlin, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” you were quick in putting up a facade of nonchalance as you frantically searched for the tie you’d recently shed when practicing spells with the group.

“It’s alright… no harm done.” Harry threw a worried glance in Cho’s direction as you find your tie.

“This was all I came for. Again, I apologize for the disturbance- I’ll be going now- Oh!” in your haste to back away, you’d knocked yourself into the wall near the entrance. You laughed nervously and rubbed the back of your head to soothe it.

“My bad, wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m leaving now.” You spun around on your heel and rounded the corner quickly, sprinting down the hallway and back to the common room as quickly as you could carry yourself.

As both Harry and Cho watched you disappear, Harry let out a long sigh. Cho turned to him. “Was that Y/N L/N?” she asked curiously. As Harry began to pack his things, he nodded.

“Yeah… it was.” Harry nodded towards the entrance as he stowed his wand away. Cho nodded grimly.

“She seemed upset.” Cho acknowledged as she watched Harry move about the room.

“Did she?” Harry questioned. Although, he had noticed your odd behavior but thought nothing of it.

“Yes, quite jealous, actually.” Cho hummed in thought.

Harry pondered that a moment. Jealous? You? Of him? Impossible.

“Yeah, right.” Harry scoffed. Though he didn’t mean anything by it, of course.

“I always thought you liked her.” Cho carefully worded her statement as she watched Harry’s back tense.

“I guess.” Harry shrugged shortly. His tone was becoming curt and short.

“Then… why are you here with me? Not going after her?” Cho gestures to the entrance to the classroom. Harry follows her gesture with his eyes and contemplated this a moment.

The next thing he knew, he’d thrown his bag over his shoulder and quickly departed with a “thank you” thrown in Cho’s direction as he hurried away.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Sixth Year

Harry peered through ripples of an imperfect windowpane in the Weasley’s Burrow, studying the others down below. A floorboard creaked. He turned and watched you emerge into the light, in a robe, twisting your wet hair into a towel.

“Everyone gone to bed?” You asked nonchalantly as you approached Harry.

“Soon.” Harry nodded.

“I don’t sleep these days. So I wash my hair. Silly, right?” you giggled at yourself, folding the towel over your arm

Harry just stared at you, the air prickling with silence. You eyed him knowingly.

“Happy Christmas, Harry.” You grinned sweetly.

Down below, Lupin continued to peer into the reeds. His pupils contracted.

“Sweetheart…” Tonks approached him.

“There’s someone out there. I can smell him. There’s more than one-”

“Suddenly, throughout the reeds, torches blazed.

Back on the second floor, the rippled window behind Harry blushed with light. Your eyes shifted from Harry to the trees beyond.

"Oh my god…”

Harry turned, his breath fogging the windowpane as, far below, flames snuck out of the reeds and slithered toward the house. Bellatrix emerged, peering up through the darkness toward Harry’s silhouette, a mad grin on her face. As she shrieked eerily, his eyes flashed with hatred.

Harry burst through the front door, wand draw, and pelted toward Bellatrix. She grinned, turned, and vanished into the reeds.

“Harry, no!” Arthur Weasley called urgently as he disappeared into the reeds.

Flames raced up the porch steps and climbed the walls of the house. Lupin drew his wand and raced after Harry.

“Remus!” Tonks called.

Ron, Fred, and George appeared and joined Arthur as he dashed toward the smoking marsh. Arthur glanced back as you emerged.

“Y/N, stay with Molly!”

Without hesitation, you raced for the reeds.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Harry careened through the marsh, reeds flashing past, then spied Bellatrix. She grinned, looking like a crazed wood nymph, then flitted off, her laughter mocking him. As he pursued, fire snaked through the reeds toward him.

Fred, George, Ron, and Arthur fanned out, running full-out, their feet kicking up sparks as shadows splintered throughout the reeds. It was like chasing ghosts.

You raced through the reeds, (h/c) hair gleaming.

Bellatrix lead Harry on, grinning madly.

You came dashing to a halt, chest heaving as you peered into the smoking marsh. A huge figure quivered through a veil of smoke. You eyes shifted, saw Bellatrix racing forward through the reeds, then shifted back as the veil of smoke evaporated and revealed… Greyback.

Bellatrix made an odd, clicking noise, like a signal, and Greyback edged forward, sweeping away reeds in front of him and revealing…

… Harry as he pelted forward.

“No, Harry! It’s a trap!”

Harry faltered, looking toward your voice and spied Greyback. Bellatrix stopped dead, wheeled in her tracks, and seeing you, shrieked with rage. Raising her wand, she fired a bolt of red light which exploded in a shower of sparks around you. You shrieked and ducked, but fired back and wheeled away, flashing through the reeds and coming face to face with-

Greyback, sharp teeth glittering.

“Don’t you smell clean.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at him in pure terror.

Just then, a bolt of blue burst off Greyback’s back and he turned, seeing Harry standing several yards off. As Greyback gave a chase, you pelted after, both of your breaths shortening until…

Greyback rushed into a clearing, panting, glancing about.

Just then, twin bolts of light blasted from opposite sides of the clearing and Greyback was lifted in the air and slammed to the ground. As he regained his feet, he looked into the reeds and saw you and Harry, wands poised. He grinned… when Bellatrix’s odd, clicking signal carried through the night once again. Turning away, he disappeared.

You and Harry slowly stepped out of the reeds and stared at each other wordlessly. You let out a whimper and threw yourself at Harry, wrapping your arms around his middle in relief. He immediately reciprocated, his arms flying to hold you steady and stroke through your hair. It oddly reminded you of your experience at the Yule Ball, your mind flashing back to when you threw yourself at Harry after hearing his side of the story. You breathed a shaky sigh into his chest and Harry rested his chin atop your head.

Then… Ron, Fred, George, Arthur, and Lupin came thrashing into the clearing and stopped. All around them, the reeds smoked, the flames dying. Across the marsh, Bellatrix’s cackle rose briefly on the air- then all was quiet.

“You’re lucky you two weren’t killed.”

Hermione. Who else?

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Present…

This all brings you to today.

How did you end up sitting in Xenophilius Lovegood’s home, reading a children’s tail about the Deathly Hallows in the middle of what was supposed to be your seventh year at Hogwarts? You’ll never know.

You’ve all just finished listening to Hermione read from the Tales of the Beedle Bard children’s book of wizarding fairytales.

Xenophilius Lovegood stares out out the window. The sun has nearly vanished over the lip of the hill.

“Well, there you are. Those are the Deathly Hallows.”

Harry glances around the room, still confused.

“Sorry… I still don’t really understand.” He shrugs.

Lovegood turns and, taking quill and parchment, draws a straight vertical line…

“The Elder Wand…”

… then adds a circle on top of the line…

“The Resurrection Stone.”

… then encloses both in a triangle.

“The Cloak of Invisibility. Together… they make the Deathly Hallows. Together… they make one master of Death.”

The four of you stare at the symbol in disbelief.

“Mr. Lovegood, does the Peverell family have anything to do with the Deathly Hallows?” You asked curiously. You noticed Ron, Harry, and Hermione staring at you in curiosity.

“That was the name of the grave with the mark on it in Godric’s Hollow. Ignotus Peverell.” You clarified with detail.

“Ignotus and his brothers Cadmus and Antioch are thought to be the original owners of the Hallows and therefore the inspiration for the story.” Lovegood’s focus abruptly wavered, sadness in his eyes, then blinks, eyeing the tea kettle.

“Ah, but your tea’s grown cold. Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” Lovegood heads downstairs with the tea kettle in hand.

As Lovegood exits, Ron speaks. “Let’s get out of here once he’s back. I’m not touching this stuff, hot or cold.” Ron grimaced at his cup of half-empty tea. You nodded in agreement.

“Which one would you choose if you could? Of the Deathly Hallows?” Harry asks the group, lost in thought.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Hermione glances around.

All four of your speak at once:

“The Wand.”

“The Cloak.”

“The Cloak.”

“The Stone.”

You all glance at each other, amused. You and Hermione share a look, knowingly. You’d each picked the cloak for a reason.

“You’re supposed to say the Cloak, but who wants to spend all day being invisible? Dead boring if you ask me. But an unbeatable wand!” Ron grinned.

“Its owner grew drunk with power and was murdered.” Hermione raises an eyebrow at Ron accusingly.

“Yeah, but imagine what a short wicked life you’d lead.” Ron counters.

Hermione rolls her eyes. “Why the Stone, Harry?” she directs her question to Harry now.

“Well, you could bring people back, couldn’t you? Mad-Eye. Dumbledore. Sirius. Anybody.” Harry shrugged.

“But according to the story, they don’t want to come back. It’s all rubbish, anyway. There’s no such thing as the Deathly Hallows.” Hermione’s counter is gentle.

“But I have one. The Invisibility Cloak my father left me.” Harry reminds quickly.

“There have always been Cloaks-”

“Not like Harry’s. I’ve seen a fair few. Dad used to bring home the ones the Ministry confiscated from petty thieves and the like. They always got holes or tears. Harry’s is different. It’s perfect.” Ron explains before Hermione can finish.

“And I think I’ve actually held the Resurrection Stone in my hands, that night in Dumbledore’s office when he showed me the ring he’d destroyed, the Horcrux. It had a symbol on it. Now I think it was the mark of the Hallows.

The four of you stand silently when Lovegood returns.

"Mr. Lovegood. Thank you, sir-”

“You forgot the water.” Ron points to the tea kettle.

“The water?” Lovegood inquires.

“For the tea.” Ron raises an eyebrow as if it were obvious.

“Did, didn’t I? How silly of me?” Lovegood breaks out into a nervous smile.

“No matter, sir. We really ought to be go-”

“No, you mustn’t!” Lovegood panics, his hands searching for any type of purchase on any surface he can find.

“Sir?” Harry questions.

“You’re my only hope. They were angry, you see, about what I’d been writing, so they took her. They took my Luna…” Lovegood’s eyes find Harry with malicious intent. “But it’s really you they want…”

“Who took her, sir?” You try gently.

Hermione eyes the print press. A copy of the Quibbler lies stuck under a roller. She reaches out and pulls it free, the ink streaking over the cover, over Harry’s face and the blazing headline: UNDESIRABLE NUMBER #1.

“Him. Surely you call him You-Know-Who. But his real name is of course… Voldemort.”

As if on cue, instantly, out the window, figures on broomsticks appeared in the sky, getting directly toward the house. As you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hit the floor, ropes of light ricochet off the windowsill. The printing press explodes, raining Quibblers everywhere, like a flock of doves, smoking with flames. Lovegood waves madly from the window.

“Stop! I’ve got him-”

Lovegood is blasted off his feet by a stunning spell so great the chain around his neck flies across the room and settles at your feet. You glance down, watching the symbol of the Deathly Hallows dissolve like mercury, then looked up, seeing Lovegood streak out the door.

“Ron, Harry, Y/n! Take my hand!”

You, Harry, and Ron begin to crawl on your knees toward Hermione when another volley of spells ricochet about the room and- ping!- strike the Gurdyroot teapot. As Hermione watches, it flies into the air, tumbling end over end toward the Erumpent Horn. Harry’s hand closes on hers, then Ron’s, you reach out and…

… the teapot strikes the Erumpent Horn.

There is a colossal explosion. The second floor of the black cylinder ruptures. Quibblers belch into the air like confetti as Lovegood narrowly escapes and the Death Eaters are engulfed and you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione…

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡ … tumble and roll to your feet, barely visible in the darkness.

“That treacherous old bleeder! Is there no one we can trust?!” Ron grumbles as he dusts himself off.

“They’ve kidnapped Luna because he supported Harry. He was just desperate.” You explain softly.

Ron says nothing, then spits, clearing the grit from his teeth and peers toward the river. Unlike the raging force it was the last time you were here, it is a little more than a trickle now. The trees are eerily quiet.

“I’ll do the enchantments.”

Ron takes out his wand… when you raise your hand, stopping him. You eyes rise. Your breath catches. Ron, Harry, and Hermione look. Clinging to the branches of the trees above, almost as if part of the trees themselves, are…

Snatchers.

A wand blooms above and illuminates the face of Scabior. Your red scarf, now faded and filthy, dangles from his neck. He presses it to his grimy nose, inhales, and grins.

“Hello, beautiful.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡ The four of you dash through the trees.

You flicker through the trees, swift as the wind, as Scabior pursues you.

Harry slashes through the river, looks up, and sees a Snatcher leap across the divide from one tree to another.

Ron pounds through thick brush, over a fallen tree.

Hermione expertly avoids sticks and stones covering the forest floor, her focus unwavering.

The forest grows more dense, the shadows thicken. Spells splinter through the trees, ropes of light lace the night.

Hermione stumbles, but regains her footing and finds herself in a clearing. You come along not long after, glancing at her with panic. Another figure pelts towards the two of you: Harry.

You all freeze briefly, then the clearing explodes with light as spells ricochet. They hit the ground. You hear the snatchers closing in.

You look to Harry. The tip of your wand glows and your face blooms in the darkness, looking mildly demonic. You reach out, strip his glasses from his face, then point your wand… at him. A burst of white light strikes him in the eyes. As your wand goes dark…

… he is flying toward a fortress, gliding around the high walls, up to the topmost window of the highest tower. He passes through the window- little more than a slit- and…

…finds a skeletal figure lying beneath a ragged blanket. The figure stirs, looks up, and grins with broken teeth. It is the young man- the thief- grown old. Grindelwald.

“Ah, Tom, I thought you would come one day. But surely you must know I no longer have what you seek.”

A shadow- Voldemort’s- falls across Grindelwald.

“If not you, then who?”

“You’re so innocent, Tom. Like a schoolboy. There’s so much you don’t understand.”

“Tell me, Grindelwald. Tell me where to find it! Tell me who possesses it! The name, Grindelwald! The name!”

“Can’t you guess, Tom? It lies within him, of course. Buried within the earth. It is he who possesses it, even in death. Your old friend and mine… Dumbledore.”

Harry blinks and in a swollen blur, peers at you and whispers quickly.

“They exist. The Hallows.”

You and Hermione look at him expectantly. He nods, his face shrouded in shadow, barely visible.

“But he only wants the one, the last one. That’s what he’s been looking for.”

“What are you saying?”

“He knows where it is, You-Know-Who. He’ll have it by the end of the night. He’s found the Elder Wand.”

As you and Hermione stare in stunned disbelief, figures emerge from the trees. Ron is shoved to the ground next to them. Scabior strips you, Hermione, and Harry of your wands.

“Don’t touch her!” Harry exclaims urgently. A fist hits Harry hard. It’s Greyback.

“Stop it!” You gasp desperately.

“Your boyfriend’ll get worse than that if he doesn’t behave, lovely.” Scabior grins misshapenly.

Scabior paints your face with light then casts it on Harry. Harry peers up, his eyes swollen to slits, his face horribly misshapen.

“What happened to you, ugly?” Scabior grimaces.

Harry’s hand finds his face, feeling the lumps.

“What’s your name?”

“Dudley. Vernon Dudley.” Harry blurts quickly.

“Check the list. And you, ginger?”

“Stan Shunpike.” Ron grumbles.

“Like 'ell you are. We know skinny Stan. Try again.” Scabior scoffs.

Greyback, his boot to Ron’s neck, presses harder.

“Weasley… Barney Weasley.” Ron makes up the name on the spot.

“Weasley, eh? Wouldn’t be related to that blood traitor Arthur Weasley, would you?”

“Piss off! Arthur Weasley’s ten times the wizard you are!” Ron struggles.

“Worth ten times you if I can find him. Wasn’t you that tipped him off, was it?” Scabior growls. Ron stays mute. Scabior turns to Hermione.

“You?” He asks quickly.

“Penelope Clearwater. Half-blood.” Hermione struggles in the snatcher’s grip.

Scabior turns to you with a sickly sweet grin.

“How 'bout you, lovely? What do they call you…?”

You jerk away from his finger under your chin and glare.

“Lavender. Brown. Pure blood.” you whisper quietly.

Scabior strokes the nape of your neck, then takes your hair in hand, sniffing it. You groan at his proximity.

“You smell like vanilla, Lavender. I think you’re going to be my favorite.” He grins.

“There’s no Vernon Dudely on 'ere.” A snatcher waves a book in the air.

Reluctantly, Scabior turns from you to Harry.

“Hear that, ugly? The list says you’re lying. How come you don’t want us to know who you are? Hm?”

“The list is wrong. I told you who I am-”

Scabior puts a finger to his lips, silencing Harry, his wand probing Harry’s face more closely.

“Change of plans, boys. We won’t be taking this lot to the Ministry.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Scabior and the others escort you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione past the yew hedges of the Malfoy Manor. You eye the white peacock, looking like a ghostly lawn ornament. Harry whispers to you.

“What did you put on me?” He inquires.

“A Stinging Jinx.” You inform quietly.

“How long will it last?”

“Not long.”

Harry glances down and sees his glasses cupped in your palm. As he slips them into his pocket, the group suddenly slows. Up ahead, on the other side of the gate, Bellatrix, Lucius, and Narcissa approach. Scabior grabs Harry’s arm and pushes his face up to the iron bars.

Bellatrix steps close. “Show me.”

Scabior reaches out his dirty fingers and pushes Harry’s hair roughly off his forehead.

Bellatrix shines her wand. Despite the swelling, one intriguing feature can be seen: a scar, in the shape of a lightning bolt. Bellatrix studies it long and hard… then smiles.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

As Bellatrix leads the procession inside, she speaks to Narcissa.

“Get Draco.”

Narcissa eyes her sister briefly, warily, then strides off, toward the brightly-lit room ahead, where her husband Lucius stands, cradling a nearly-empty wine glass.

“Why Draco?” Lucius inquires. Narcissa passes her husband without a word.

“Just sit back and watch, Lucius. Hm? Pour yourself another glass of wine.” As she passes, she flicks her finger off the rim of his glass.

Bellatrix turns, eyeing you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“Where’d you find them?” She begins.

“In the North Forest.” Scabior answers.

Wormtail quietly enters the room. As Harry eyes him, Bellatrix pauses, studying his scar again.

“Lovely scarf, Scabior. Though I’m not sure it’s your color.” Bellatrix teases.

“It’s not mine.”

“You don’t say.” Her eyes slide, catching him looking to you.

“Fancy her, do you, Scabior? Can’t say I blame you. Maybe we’ll work out a little reward for you, hm? That is, assuming all is as it appears. Ah, Draco. Come here, darling.”

From the shadows at the far end of the room, Draco separates from Narcissa and steps cautiously forward.

“My friends here say they’ve got Harry Potter. Seeing as he’s an old school chum of yours, I thought you could confirm the fact for us.”

Draco stares at Harry.

“Well…?” Bellatrix urges.

“I can’t… I can’t be sure.” Draco grimaces. Lucius steps forward, wine glass sloshing.

“Look close, Draco. If we’re the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiven. Do you understand-”

“Now, we won’t be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?” Scabior reminds, quietly menacing.

“Of course not.” Bellatrix’s eyes harden. “Narcissa. Tend to your husband.”

Lucius staggers back nervously next to his wife.

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart. Get up nice and close.” Bellatrix nudges Draco forward until he’s only inches from Harry.

“What’s wrong with his face?” Draco grimaces as he gets a closer look at Harry.

“Yes, what is wrong with his face, Scabior?” Bellatrix cranes her neck to look up at the snatchers.

“He came to us that way. I reckon he picked it up in the forest.” Scabior shrugged.

“Or ran into a Stinging Jinx.”

You feel your heart clench as you cast your eyes downward. Bellatrix notices your destress and her eyes flash, stepping up close to you.

“Was it you, dearie? Give me her wand. We’ll see what the last spell was.”

You’re alarmed as the Snatcher steps forward.

“What is that?” Bellatrix’s tone is quietly murderous. She pushes past Scabior and Greyback and steps before another Snatcher.

Your beaded purse dangles from one hand. In the other, he holds… the Sword of Gryffindor.

“It was in her bag when we searched her. Reckon it’s mine now.”

Bang! Quick as lightning, Bellatrix stuns the Snatcher and catches the sword as he drops. Scabior wheels.

“Are you mad?!” Bang! Bellatrix drops Scabior to his knees before his wand escapes his cloak. He bellows in fury.

“How dare you! Release me, woman!”

Bellatrix stares at him, eyes full of fire, then flicks her wand as he slumps forward, wincing.

“Go. GO!”

Scabior eyes her resentfully, then exits with Greyback an the others. Bellatrix turns.

“Wormtail. Put these three in the cellar. I want to have a little conversation with this one. Girl to girl.”

“No!” Hermione steps forward and covers your body with her own, staring Bellatrix down with confidence. Bellatrix merely smirks.

“Fine. Put the boys in the cellar, then. We’ll have a girl talk.”

As Wormtail jerks them away, Harry’s eyes flash with panic and meet yours. You mouth, “It’s okay.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Wormtail prods Harry and Ron down a steep flight of stairs and slams the door. Ron throws himself against it and turns to Harry.

“Harry! What’re we going to do? We can’t just leave them alone with her!”

“Ron…? Harry…?”

Harry peers into the small, shadow space below and senses movement.

“Luna…?” ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Bellatrix twirls a silver dagger in her fingers.

“This sword is meant to be in my vault at Gringotts. How did you get it?” Bellatrix pins you to the floor as Hermione lays motionless beside you, watching helplessly.

You draw in a shaky, sobbing breath as you try to regain your composure as you cry out. “I didn’t take it!” You exclaim desperately.

“Liar!” Bellatrix moves to your arm and slices open the skin in a rhythmic fashion, carving a word out of your skin. You let out a scream in agony and struggle in her grip, shrieking as your skin burns.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Harry eyes Ollivander cautiously, when Bellatrix’s voice echoes through the vent.

“I’m going to ask you once again: what else did you and your friends take from my vault?!”

Harry’s heart nearly shatters when he hears your sobbing response.

“I told you! I don’t know what you’re talking-” you scream in pain. Harry slams his fist against the wall and turns.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Hermione whimpers as she watches Bellatrix’s use of the Cruciatus curse on you for answers. You let our a piercing wail of anguish as she strikes you again.

“Stop it, please.” Hermione lets out a gentle sob and whisper as she watches you struggle to keep sane.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Quickly, cautiously, Harry and Ron, now brandishing Wormtail’s wand, pad toward the main room as Dobby, the newest arrival, slips off in another direction. As Ron steps past the lifeless Snatcher without a glance, Harry hesitates and glances down.

Something flutters weakly in the Snatcher’s pocket. The tip of a golden wing. Harry crouches and looks; it’s the Snitch.

“Sss.”

Harry looks up and sees Ron gesturing for him. Quickly, he takes the Snitch and slips it into his pocket.

Harry joins Ron as the watch Bellatrix, who comes into view, towering over Griphook, who holds the sword, studying it. You lie at Bellatrix’s feet. Seeing you, Harry begins to lurch forward. Ron restrains him.

“Well?”

“I left Gringotts employ many weeks ago, but when I was last in your vault, the sword was there.”

Hermione studies the two and then watches as a strand of Bellatrix’s hair drifts free and, as if in a dream, floats through the air…

“Perhaps it just walked out on its own then.”

“There is no place safer than Gringotts, Madam Lestrange.”

… and catches on Hermione’s shirt.

“Liar! You can’t deceive me!” Bellatrix slashes the dagger across Griphook’s cheek and a deep gash opens. He barely flinches, the hint of a smile on his lips. Bellatrix looks mildly unnerved by his reaction.

“Consider yourself lucky, Goblin. The same won’t be said for this one.” Bellatrix poises the dagger over you and pushes your limp body with her pointed heel. You whimper at the contact to your sore body and flip over at her command.

“Like hell!”

Bellatrix wheeled, seeing Harry pelting forward.

“Expelliarmus!”

Bellatrix’s dangling wand shoots free and tumbles end over end, right into Harry’s hand.

“Stupefy!”

Lucius Malfoy drops instantly, his wine glass shattering in a burgundy bloom on the hearth. Narcissa and Draco draw their wands. Jets of light spray across the room.

Hermione had been snatched up by Ron at this point, but no one was able to get to you.

“Stop or she dies!”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione freeze and see you leaning limply against Bellatrix, the dagger at your throat.

“Drop your wands.” Bellatrix commands.

Harry stands rigidly, staring balefully at Bellatrix. She presses the dagger into your neck enough for a small cut.

“Ah!” you exclaim painfully.

“I said drop them!”

“All right!” Harry grunts angrily.

Ron flings away Wormtail’s wand, Harry drops Bellatrix’s.

“Pick them up, Draco. Now! Well, well, look what we have here. Harry Potter. All bright, shiny and new again. Just in time for the Dark Lord.”

Harry glances in the mirror opposite and sees that the stinging jinx is wearing off.

“Call him, Draco.”

Draco hesitates. But Lucius doesn’t, pulling up his sleeve and touching his finger to the Dark Mark on his forearm. Harry’s scar constricts and he grimaces in agony. Bellatrix cackles maniacally, her knife pressed against the tender flesh of your neck. A bead of blood bubbles on the blade and then… and grinding noise in heard. Harry glances up and sees the chandelier begin to tremble. As the tinkle of glass fills the room, Bellatrix stares directly upward, watching as…

… the chandelier bursts free of the ceiling and plummets. Bellatrix bolts and you stagger clear, falling into Harry’s arms. His arms immediately reciprocate and you fall into that familiar memory once again. Your body is sore and limp, but there’s no where you would rather be than in his arms at this moment.

Griphook grabs the sword as glass explodes in razor-sharp slivers, Draco screams and covers his bloody face. Harry wrests the blood-soaked wands from his hands after transferring you to Ron and Hermione and, wheeling, points all three at Lucius.

“Stupefy!”

Lucius flies off his feet and drops in a heap.

“You dirty little monkey! You could have killed me!”

Harry turns and sees Bellatrix raging at Dobby. The elf stands fearlessly across from her, defiant.

“Dobby never meant to kill. Dobby only meant to maim… or seriously injure.

"For God’s sake, Cissy, you’ve got a wand! Use it!”

Narcissa hesitates. Crack!- Dobby waves his little fist and Narcissa’s wand flies from her hand.

“How dare you take a witch’s wand! How dare you defy your masters!”

“Dobby has no master! Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!”

Harry tosses Ron and wand, grabs your beaded bag, and joins the others in the center of the room.

“Give the Dark Lord our regards.” You call out weakly with a cheeky smile.

Harry almost smiles back at you. You always have to have the last word.

His hand closes on Dobby’s and the drawing room begins to spin. Bellatrix’s face twists into an ugly blur. Her arm rises, dagger in hand. There is a flash of silver. Then all goes black for a long time.

Then…

… with a great WHOOSH, Harry and the others tumble onto solid earth and hear the crash of waves.

As Harry staggers to his feet as the stars whirl above him. He sees he is on a cliff overlooking a dark sea.

Ron holds Hermione gently. Tears sting her eyes.

You feel a sharp pain in your stomach and your breath hitches.

You can already begin to feel life leaving your body as you become numb to the pain.

“It’s all right, Hermione. You’re safe. We’re all safe.” Harry begins to assure as he searches for you.

She doesn’t respond, nor Ron. Then Harry realizes they are looking past him, even Dobby and Griphook, the sword hanging limply in his hand.

Harry turns.

You stand alone, a queer smile on your face, hand resting just below your chest, the hilt of Bellatrix’s dagger protruding between your fingers.

Hermione opens her mouth and lets out a blood-curdling scream at the sight of you. She covers her mouth with one hand and tears spill from her eyes as Ron holds her tightly.

“Y/N… no…”

As Harry rushes to you, you crumple in his arms, your eyes rolling up to the stars.

“It’s okay… here… just hold on, Y/N. I’ll fix you- Hermione- her bag- Essence of Dittany- something… Hermione! Help me!”

Harry is desperate now as he watches you become more and more lifeless in his arms. He can’t watch you go now, not like this. Not when they are so incredibly close.

Hermione merely stands, tears streaking her cheeks.

“Don’t worry about me, Harry.” You manage. Harry’s face contorts in a sob.

“No, but I have to worry about you! You’re dying! Please… help.” Harry searches frantically for anything.

“I would say something witty… but my mind is blank.” you manage a chuckle as you reach up to grip Harry’s arm. Harry yanks your hand and brings it up to his cheek and nuzzles himself against your palm with closed eyes.

“Hey, look at me.” You stroke his cheek the best you can manage. Harry opens his eyes and stares down into your paling eyes, his own flooding with tears.

“You’re gonna be alright, I promise.” you whisper gently.

“I never meant for you to get caught up in all of this. I promise.” Harry draws in a shaky breath and squints his eyes shut.

It has to be a dream, he’s going to wake up any moment to you shaking him awake in the tent and telling him it was just another one of his nightmares.

But when he opens his eyes, you’re still lying limp in his arms, the dagger in your body and the life leaving your eyes.

“I wanted to, Harry. It was all worth it. For you.” Your smile is sad as you watch the emotional pain that wrenches his heart.

“Please don’t leave me… I’m in love with you…” Harry sobs desperately.

You can’t tell if it’s the dagger in your chest, or if your heart palpitates from his words. That was all you ever wanted to hear. Those words from him and him alone.

“I’m in love with you too, you twat.” you giggle. Harry’s frown twitches into a sad smile for only a moment, before he regains his awareness of the weight of the situation.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” he sniffles pathetically.

“Me too.” Your hand on his cheek begins to grow numb and limp, if it weren’t for Harry gripping it to his face.

You use your last burst of strength and wind your hand around his neck and tug him down to your level, pressing your lips to his in your first and final kiss. Harry wastes no time and reciprocates, only separating from you when he needs air to breathe, but keeps the proximity between your faces.

“Take care of them for me, yeah?” You whisper as your eyes become hooded.

“W-what? No! Y/N, please! We’re going to fix you, I promise, I’ll-”

But he stops himself when he notices that your eyes have fluttered shut and your hand falls limp around his neck. He’s close enough to your face to feel your breathing has stopped and your body has gone mostly cold.

“I’m so sorry.” Harry cradles your head against his neck and lets out heart-wrenching sobs unabashedly.

Hermione hides her face in Ron’s neck as she cries, and Ron sheds tears as he watches his best friend cradle your limp body.

They never thought it would come to this.