#florence the magic of ordinary days

[everyonesonthespectrum]

Today’s Autistic character of the day is:

Florence “Florie” Umahara from The Magic of Ordinary Days

[jezebelblues]

forsaken | h.s

summary: florence 1583. a woman of fire, a man of fuel.

cw: smut18+ penetration (piv), oral fem!receiving, parent death, fem!reader, unedited. unrealistic happy ending if u seek tragedy 😔

world count: approx 17.2k

| omg will be writing more on these 2, renaissancerry is my heart <3 not rlly thinking a series, more like extras on them fosho. ps: am not a historian or time traveler–if u see something incorrect no u didn’t

masterlist

Florence, 1583

Harry Edward Styles was born to a mother, an older sister, and two fathers—one of blood, one of choice.

The man that bore his blood to the two Styles children preferred the sound of the way glasses of ale would clink in warm evenings, the twinkle of gold coins in the sunlight. Children were the continuation of a name, a bloodline—and that’s all he thought them to be. The only fathering a man was made to do was the ritual of burying their seed in a woman, her duty was to grow them.

So, after a son with his same eyes drew his first breath, he rose a dagger and marked his heel with one singular, vertical dash.

He had done the same when his sister was brought into this world, but he marked her with a horizontal dash.

Their mother, Anne, didn’t understand why—and hated it with every fiber in her being—watching her newborns cry for any other reason then being pulled from the comfort of their mother’s womb.

Once their father left after Harry’s first week on earth, she understood why, his words messily printed with ink on parchment.

Dearest Anne,

Thank you for bringing my own flesh and blood into this world. You are a woman I entrust most with them, having been chosen by God to bear such souls.

Which is why I must leave. A man has more to do with his time on this Earth than to nurture, I shall pour my being into others and bring forth more Brothers and Sisters for sweet Gemma and Harry.

My blood with course through this nation and find itself basking within the kingdom of heaven. I’ve marked my children to find them when God finally calls us forth.

Your womb is a gift from the angels above.

Until then,

– Desmond.

For a while, she mourned the loss of her lover and children’s father. But as time continued, as it always does, she realized that she had dodged the fatal strike of a sword.

She was unsure of the crimes committed by the hands of their father, but she remembers hearing the news of him being hung in the southernmost village of their country.

On Harry’s second birthday, she had fallen in love with a woodmaker, Robin. Shortly after, they moved to Wiltshire and Robin was always known as their papa.

Of course, Harry and Gemma had learnt their true parentage before the dawn of Gemma’s thirteenth birthday, but it was hard to mourn a man you had never known.

Anne would have never told them he was hung in a town’s square, but ascended to heaven of natural causes—the inevitable kiss of an angel.

The scent of turpentine and drying oils had long become as familiar to Harry as the earth beneath his feet. In the cool stillness of his studio, he paused, fingers stained with ochres and umbers, to stare at the remnants of his father’s brush—the one he had used all those years ago, before the fever came.

Harry’s father had been no renowned artist. He was a man of simple trades, a woodworker from the hills of Wiltshire, far from the splendor of Florence’s sunlit domes. But in the evenings, when the day’s labors were done, his father would sit by the window, painting quietly by candlelight. It was there, beside him, that Harry had first seen the magic of creation—colors flowing like rivers across rough wood and fraying canvas, ordinary scenes transformed by the wild, unspoken emotion in every stroke.

His father had painted not for fame, but for peace.

Harry had only been fourteen when his father’s hands, once steady and sure, began to tremble with sickness. His chest had grown tight, his breaths shallow, until finally they stopped altogether. He remembers the way the pads of his fingertips would prune from bringing a water soaked rag to his lips, how his father would drink from the drops of it.

For a while, he hated the color red and grey. His father’s lips would crack with peaks of crimson, leaving faint stains of red on the water rag in its wake. His skin greyed in a speed he didn’t think possible once his heart fell absent of a beat.

In the days that followed, the house had filled with the clamor of neighbors, mourners, and merchants, but Harry could only hear the quiet absence in the stillness.

In the flickering silence, he had picked up his father’s brush.

The years after his father’s death were a blur of movement, as though he had been running from some unseen ghost. He had wandered south, across valleys and mountains, always chasing the sun. By the time he arrived in Florence, he was a man of twenty three and had little more than the clothes on his back and a single paintbrush to his name.

Florence had embraced him like a reluctant lover. The city’s streets were gilded with Renaissance splendor, yet heavy with the weight of expectation. It was a place of grandeur and art, where even beauty was a form of currency—where the Medici and other noble families wore their wealth as a crown and commissioned artists to immortalize their names in frescoes and portraits.

Harry’s talent had bloomed in these streets, but it had come at a price. Every stroke of his brush, every commission, felt like an unspoken promise to a father who would never see what his son had become. The bright colors of his palette were often mixed with the shadow of his grief, and though his name was now whispered in the gilded halls of Florence’s elite, Harry felt as though he were forever painting in the twilight between joy and sorrow.

Sometimes his mind would wonder to the possibility of if he was an angel banished by God, his punishment being to bear the pain of not having lost one, but two fathers.

Three if he counted the absence of Jesus in his life. He felt fatherless, in all senses of the word.

Or maybe it was all well circulated fairytale, conjured in the thoughts of his father’s, the one he shared blood with, brain.

He had grown to resent the mark on his foot, and in the depths of his heart he would refer it as the the kiss of the devil, rather than the mark of God.

He would blame his struggle with faith on his fathers, the three men who sat behind the title.

Desmond, for abandoning his family.

Robin, who loved him like a son and died in front of his eyes.

And Jesus, who had ignored his prayers for his papa to stay and to take him instead.

But it was the pain, the deep and gnawing ache within him, that had given his art its soul. His patrons spoke in reverence of his ability to capture more than a face—how he painted the delicate tremor of a moment, a fleeting look, a breath before the breaking. His works were praised as vibrant, yes, but they also carried something deeper, something tragic. A hidden sadness, like the ghost of a love lost too soon.

In his heart, he knew: he painted because the world was filled with such unrelenting beauty, and that beauty was fleeting. To capture it was to hold on, however briefly, to something that could not last.

One afternoon, as golden light filtered through the shutters, a letter arrived. The wax seal bore the mark of a powerful house—the Candela family. A commission for their daughter’s portrait. A noble request, one that might cement his place among Florence’s greatest. But it was not the promise of riches or recognition that made Harry’s heart stir with something close to fear. It was the girl herself, the rebellious daughter who, rumor had it, could not be tamed by family or duty.

As Harry read the letter, his thoughts drifted back to the girl he had once seen in the Candela gardens. Her eyes had been bright, but wild. Free. In that moment, he knew what she was—a living echo of the spirit he had long tried to capture in his art: untamable, elusive, yet heartbreakingly beautiful.

It was a portrait that might change everything. Or destroy him.

He set the letter down and turned back to the canvas, but his hands trembled once more, just as his father’s had in those final days. A reminder of mortality. A reminder that every brushstroke was borrowed time.

But still, he would paint.

*

The heavy velvet curtains of the Candela palazzo had long felt like a prison to her. Born into one of Florence’s oldest and wealthiest families, Y/N had spent her life in the shadow of their legacy—one that was both gilded with fortune and bound by duty. From the moment she took her first breath, her future had been decided for her. Her days were filled with lessons in etiquette, music, embroidery, and diplomacy, while her nights were a symphony of forced pleasantries at banquets and balls, always under the watchful eyes of her mother and the judgment of the city’s elite.

But from a young age, Y/N knew she was not made for such a life. Beneath the layers of silks and jewels, beneath the carefully orchestrated smiles and curtsies, there was a fire burning in her—one that she had learned to hide from everyone around her, for fear it would consume her entirely.

Her earliest memories were not of the marble halls of the palazzo, but of the gardens beyond its walls, the wild olive groves that stretched out toward the hills. It was there, in the quiet spaces between her responsibilities, that she found her freedom. She had spent her childhood escaping into the fields, where the wind would tear through her hair and her laughter would echo through the trees, free from the rules that shackled her in the world of men.

Her father, the head of the family, was a cold and distant man, more concerned with his political alliances than with his children. He rarely spoke to her except to remind her of her place—her duty to the family, her obligation to marry into another powerful house and secure the Candela legacy. Y/N’s mother was no different, though her scoldings came wrapped in sweet, deceptive smiles. She had been raised to be an ornament, a living testament to her family’s wealth and power, and Y/N was expected to do the same.

But she refused to be molded by their expectations.

She had always been different from the other girls of her station. Where they dreamed of betrothals and courtly love, she dreamed of escape. She would slip out of the palazzo at night, dressed in the simple clothes of a servant, and wander the streets of Florence, blending into the crowd, invisible for the first time in her life. In the dim glow of lanterns, she would listen to the street musicians, watch the painters in the piazza, and breathe in the freedom that was denied to her by daylight.

By the time she reached womanhood, her spirit had only grown wilder. Her parents, exasperated by her refusal to marry the suitors they paraded before her, tightened their grip on her life. But the more they tried to contain her, the more fiercely she fought to break free. She began to push the boundaries of what was expected of a noblewoman—her wit was too sharp, her temper too bold, her opinions too dangerous. Whispers spread through the Florentine courts, branding her rebellious, unfit for the delicate role of a noble wife.

It was not that Y/N wanted to be unwed. She simply refused to give her life to a man who would cage her like a bird. She longed for something more than what Florence could offer her, more than a life of duty and appearance. There were moments—fleeting though they were—when she felt she could see the world as it truly was, raw and beautiful, and she wanted to live in that truth, not the carefully constructed illusion of noble society.

That was when her mother decided it was time to have her portrait painted, a desperate attempt to remind the world of her beauty, her value. It was, of course, more for show than for art—another piece in the game of noble alliances, another way to lure in potential suitors. But Y/N saw it for what it was: a final effort to tame her.

And that was when she had first heard his name—Harry, the painter from the north.

Her mother spoke of him with the same dismissive tone she used for all the artisans they employed, but there was something about this Harry that intrigued her. He was not born of noble blood, and yet his name carried weight in the circles that mattered. The Medici spoke of him with admiration, and even the Pope had once commissioned his work. His paintings, it was said, had a rare quality—they revealed not just the outward beauty of a subject, but the soul beneath.

Y/N had seen one of his works in the home of a distant cousin, a portrait of a young woman who had died tragically young. The face had been serene, the colors soft and gentle, but the eyes—the eyes had told a story of longing and loss that no courtly painter would dare to capture. It had haunted her ever since.

For days, she tried to convince herself it was just another scheme of her parents—another attempt to make her fit the mold she had spent her life breaking. Yet, she could not deny the flicker of curiosity that sparked within her. What would this man see in her? Would he, too, try to make her into something she was not? Or would he paint the fire she had spent her whole life hiding?

The day her mother informed her of the first sitting, Y/N had felt the familiar weight of resignation settle over her. She would sit for this portrait because she had no choice. She would smile, she would pose, and in the end, her mother would hang the portrait in some grand hall for every eligible bachelor to admire. It was all part of the game they had been playing for years.

But when the day came, and she finally entered the makeshift studio lended to Harry for the length of his time here, she felt a shift in the air, as though the fates had turned their gaze upon her.

Harry was not what she expected. He was younger, rougher around the edges than the other artists her family had employed. His dark curls were wild, and there was a certain sadness in his eyes, something she recognized all too well. He was no stranger to loss, that much was clear. His eyes were a vibrant green she had not seen before, unless she counted the gardens that sat in a rainy haze. Perhaps he was a painting himself. And he, too, seemed out of place in the glittering world of Florence’s elite. It was as though he was merely passing through, as though he belonged somewhere quieter, more distant.

Draped in heavy silks, with eyes as sharp as a hawk and a posture that suggested defiance rather than decorum, the daughter of the noble Candela family was unlike any of his previous subjects. Her name was Y/N, and she exuded an air of mischief that the delicate ladies of Florence rarely allowed themselves to entertain.

He did not greet her with flowery pleasantries, as other painters had. Instead, he regarded her quietly for a moment, his eyes flickering over her face—not in judgment, but as if he were searching for something hidden beneath the surface.

“You’re the one they cannot tame.” He said at last, his voice low, almost amused. His accent confirmed he did not have deep roots in Italy, it sounded more of the English suitors her mother would introduce.

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. And somehow, in that moment, Y/N knew that he had already seen more of her than her family ever had.

She smirked, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “That depends on what you believe needs taming.”

Harry’s lips quirked into a half-smile, and for the first time in years, Y/N felt as though she could breathe just from the few seconds in his presence.

Her eyes gaze around the studio as she waltzes further in, her lips in a closed smile. Her skin held the glow of the sun beautifully, hair bouncing with the scent of lavender. Her fingers feather across a few empty canvasses he has on stilts, messes of paint and brushes scattered onto a table. “They say Hephaestus molded your flesh and bones before sending you to Earth.” She eased, a smile still on her reddened lips. Her steps clicked closer to where Harry stood, eyes still drawn out the windows surrounded by nature. “I heard Aphrodite herself kissed your wrist, frame still soft with clay.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, though her tone soft, there was anything but sincere admiration laced in her words. “I assure you that there’s no markings of her kiss pressed unto me—m’just a man with a brush.”

She hummed, rounding the stilt between them and watching the sunlight glimmer in his eye as the sun would in the waves. There was no denying the shift in the air between them, an unspoken understanding that went beyond the typical dance of polite conversation. In this studio, amidst the scent of oils and pigment, they were stripped of the titles and roles society had thrust upon them.

“A man with a brush.” She repeated softly, almost to herself. She reached out, her fingers grazing the surface of one of the unfinished canvases. The texture of it was rough, still raw with potential, much like her own life—full of promise, but still undefined. “I wonder,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, “what you see when you look at me.”

Harry’s hands, stained with the colors of his art, stilled for a moment. He had painted many faces, each one a portrait of both beauty and sorrow, but this woman—this subject—was different. There was something about Y/N that made him hesitate. She was not like the others who sat for him with plastered smiles, eager to be frozen in time, their beauty immortalized for the world to see.

No, Y/N did not want to be captured in that way. She wanted something more, something truer. Her spirit was restless, untamed, and her gaze held a challenge, as though daring him to see beyond the layers of silks and expectations. To see the woman beneath.

Slowly, Harry moved closer to her, the distance between them shrinking. He studied her face, not with the detached gaze of an artist trying to perfect his subject’s likeness, but with a quiet intensity that sent a ripple through the stillness of the room. His voice, when it came, was low and deliberate.

“I see a woman who was never meant t’be caged.” He mumbled. “I see fire and wind—a calm in an eye of a storm that would bring no ruin; something wild, something the world doesn’t understand.”

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly at his words. It was as if, in a single moment, he had unraveled all the masks she had carefully worn her entire life. The world she had known, the roles she had played, felt fragile and false in the face of this raw truth.

“And yet,” Harry continued, his voice dipping lower, “they try to fit you into a frame, don’t they? As if y’could ever be captured.”

For the first time in what felt like years, Y/N let herself be vulnerable. She turned away from the canvases, facing him fully, the light catching the strands of her hair like molten gold. Her eyes met his, no longer guarded, no longer deflecting.

“I don’t belong in that frame.” She whispered, the words slipping past her lips like a confession. “But they’ve been trying to fit me into one for as long as I can remember.”

Harry nodded, his gaze never wavering from hers. “I know.” He said simply. “I’ve spent my life painting what people want to see. But you–”

He trailed off, as though the thought itself was too bold, too dangerous to speak aloud.

“Me?” she pressed, her heart beginning to race in her chest. She stepped closer, drawn to him in a way that felt both terrifying and inevitable.

“With you,” Harry continued, his voice a hushed murmur, “I want t’paint what the world can’t see.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension between them was palpable, charged with the weight of unspoken desires, and the world outside the studio seemed to fade away. In that small, sunlit room, there were no titles, no expectations, only two souls who had somehow found one another in a world that had tried to break them.

Y/N’s hand hovered near Harry’s arm, and then, slowly, as if testing the waters of some forbidden sea, she let her fingers brush against his. The contact was light, fleeting, but it sent a shockwave through both of them.

“I want that too,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the vulnerability of the admission.

Harry swallowed, the pulse of his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. He had never felt this way about a subject before, had never let himself blur the lines between artist and muse. But with Y/N, those lines had already been crossed the moment she had walked into his studio.

They stood there for a moment longer, hands barely touching, eyes locked in a silent conversation. And then, as if by unspoken agreement, they both pulled back—just enough to remind themselves of the roles they were meant to play, even as those roles were beginning to crumble.

Harry stepped away first, turning back to his easel, his voice steady as he spoke. “We’ll begin the portrait today. But I won’t paint what they expect.” He nodded toward her, “A caged dove to be set free.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a soft smile, her heart still pounding in her chest. She knew, in that moment, that whatever Harry painted, it would be the truest version of herself she had ever seen. And it would bind them together in ways neither of them could yet understand.

“This will displease them.” She smiled, pausing her words. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Her voice carried the weight of a promise, though she wasn’t sure who it was meant for—him, or herself.

Without another word, he jutted his chin toward the chair in the center of the room. “Sit.” He instructed, his tone soft but firm.

She followed his gesture, looking toward the seat and ambling toward it silently. She sat, keeping her spine stiff—something that was embedded into her through her training over the years. His eyes narrowed onto her face, cataloging each curve, line, and hint of emotion that sat in her eyes.

Their sittings became a ritual over the last month—an escape from the suffocating demands of her family, from the world that sought to control her. Each time she stepped into his studio, it was as though she left the weight of her name behind, shedding it like a heavy cloak. Here, she was not the Candela daughter, not the rebellious heiress trapped by duty. She was simply Y/N, a woman with dreams and desires that no one had ever cared to ask about.

Harry painted in near silence, his brush moving with a precision that bordered on reverence. But as the days passed, the silences grew warmer, more comfortable, and slowly, they began to talk. He spoke of his father, of the quiet life in England he had left behind, and of how he had found himself in Florence, painting for men who would never understand the depth of what he was trying to capture.

And she, for the first time, spoke of her own longing. Not for marriage or jewels, but for freedom. For the wildness of the world outside the palazzo gates. She told him of the nights she wandered the streets alone, the moments when she felt most alive, when the weight of her name fell away and she became just another face in the crowd.

With every word, with every glance, they both knew they were crossing a line—one that could never be uncrossed. Their relationship was not one of artist and subject. It was something deeper, more dangerous. And Florence, with all its grandeur, was not kind to those who broke its rules.

As Harry’s brush moved over the canvas, he realized he was no longer painting just a portrait. He was capturing the essence of a woman who had lived her entire life behind a mask, forced into roles she never wanted to play. With each stroke, he revealed her fire, her vulnerability, her defiance.

And Y/N, who had spent her life being told what she should be, saw herself reflected in his eyes—not as the noble daughter, not as the prize her family sought to offer to the highest bidder, but as she truly was.

In those stolen moments, as the sunlight filtered through the shutters and the world outside seemed to fall away, they became something Florence would never understand. They were freedom itself—dangerous, fleeting, and unbearably beautiful.

Y/N’s portrait only neared its finish as time continued to pass. They would always meet three times a week for about an hour or two. She would never say it out loud, but it began to become a favorite part of her weeks—meeting Harry. His soul was anything unlike she’s ever known, and all she wanted to do was linger.

They sat outside the cobblestone studio, lying upon a blanket adorned with fresh vegetables, cheeses and meats. Her mother and Father had been out for the day, and she thought it’d be a perfect opportunity to see Harry as he is, rather than the painter.

He spoke of his travels as he would eagerly show her he could catch the bites of cheese he would throw into his mouth—and he would order her to rank each catch one through ten.

Harry lied back, weight on his elbow as his curls tousled perfectly in the warm breeze. Y/N lied on her belly, kicking her feet in the air behind her as she lie her head on her folded arms.

The afternoon sun peaked from the trees above them, catching the light in her eyes perfectly. Harry always found her to be beautiful, but at this moment she looked ethereal.

He tossed another piece of cheese into the air, leaning his head back and catching it deftly with his mouth, smiling proudly as he chewed. “Well?” He asked, his voice teasing. “What say you? Surely that was a ten.”

Y/N laughed, the sound as bright as the sun and as sweet as the strawberry he head earlier. “A six, perhaps.” She grinned, voice lilting with playful challenge. “Surely you could do better.”

His smirk widened, and he threw another piece of cheese, catching it again with exaggerated flourish. “A six indeed.” He mumbled, feigning offense. “I think you’re quite mistaken, my lady.”

She bit her lip to suppress another laugh, shaking her head against her forearms. “Perhaps your talents lie elsewhere.” She mused, her voice dripping to a soft, flirtatious murmur as she gazed at him through her lashes. “Catching cheese seems beneath you.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something else in them too—something she hadn’t seem from him yet, something that sent a shiver down her spine. "And what talents might you suggest, then?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, though the undertone was laden with meaning.

Y/N's breath caught for a moment, her heart fluttering in her chest as the playful banter between them took on a new edge. Her gaze lingered on his lips before she tore it away, focusing on the light streaming through the leaves above them. "I think you know the answer to that.” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the world seemed to still around them. The laughter and lightness faded, replaced by the palpable tension that had been simmering between them for weeks. It hung in the air now, thick and undeniable. Harry shifted beside her, his playful grin fading into something more serious as he watched her carefully, as though waiting for her to give him permission to step closer to that edge.

He wanted to toss away the platter that lay between them, to grab her waist and flip her onto her back and show her the talents he possessed. It made his heart go into a sputtered mess, to cloud his gaze with need. He wondered if she knew how beautiful she was in that moment.

“Did you hear me?”

Harry blinked, shaking his head before letting a sheepish smile spread across his lips. “No. I suppose not.”

“Have you ever thought of leaving Florence, H? Of leaving all of this behind?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, the question pulling him from whatever unspoken thought had been lingering on his lips. He exhaled softly, rolling onto his back and staring up at the sky. "I've thought of it," he admitted after a moment, his voice quieter now, thoughtful. "But Florence has become something of a home. Even if it binds me, l've learned t’live within those bounds."

Y/N frowned, her heart tightening at his words.

"But don't you wish for more? Don't you long for freedom?"

He turned his head to look at her, and in his eyes, she saw a reflection of her own yearning, the quiet desperation that they had both been trying to ignore. "Of course I do," he murmured. "But freedom is not something easily won. Especially not for people like us."

She swallowed, the weight of his words settling over her like a shroud. She had always believed that Harry, in some way, was freer than she could ever be—an artist, a man without title or the crushing expectations of nobility. But now, she saw the truth. He was as trapped as she was, bound by the invisible chains of his station, his livelihood tied to the whims of men like her father, men who would never derstand the depths of what he truly wanted create.

"And you?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with quiet intensity. "If you could go anywhere, if you could leave all this behind, where would you go?"

She hesitated, the question stirring something deep within her, a longing she had never dared to voice. "Anywhere," she whispered, her gaze distant. "Anywhere but here. I want to see the world, to lose myself in it. I want to go where no one knows my name, where I can be just Y/N—not the daughter of Candela, not someone's prize to be won."

Harry's gaze softened, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the garden, but the air between them crackled with an intensity that neither of them could ignore.

"And if l asked you to go with me?" she said suddenly, her voice trembling with the weight of the question. "Would you?"

Harry's breath hitched, and for a moment, he didn't answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost pained. "If you asked me, I would follow you anywhere."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, the enormity of his words settling over her like a heavy cloak. The desire to reach out, to cross the boundary they had been skirting for weeks, pulsed through her veins. But fear-fear of the consequences, of what they would beer if they gave in to this—held her back. Harry could feel the weight of her thoughts, the far away look in his eye. He sighed gently, propping himself back onto his elbow as he took a cheese from the platter, lightly throwing it toward Y/N.

It pulled her from her thoughts with a smile as it bounced from her shoulder onto the blanket spread beneath him. He laughed, leaning across the space between them and stealing the cheese for himself. “That’s a zero, I’m afraid.”

*

Before meeting Harry around the same time she had been, she brought forth a bowl of fruits from the kitchen—both a snack and a small gift. The heat was unforgiving today, adorned with the same silk gown she was supposed to wear during these sessions, but her feet were bare. The ground was cold beneath her, blades of grass leaving kisses from the dew left behind.

The temporary studio Harry resided in was across the courtyard, a small, cobblestone building hidden between trees and a small pond.

As she reached the studio, the door slightly ajar, she paused, listening. Inside, she could hear the faint sound of Harry moving, his footsteps light as he adjusted the easel or mixed colors on his palette. Her heart quickened, not out of nervousness, but out of anticipation. Each day spent with him had become an escape, a release from the weight of her family’s expectations.

Pushing the door open with her hip, Y/N entered the room, the bowl of fruit balanced in her hands. Harry was bent over his canvas, his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing the sinew of his forearms, streaked with paint. His dark curls were unruly, as though he had been running his fingers through them absentmindedly. When he looked up and saw her, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“You’re early today, my dove.” He grinned, his voice warm, the familiar hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I brought something.”Y/N murmured, holding up the bowl of fruit. “A peace offering, perhaps.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, setting his brush down and wiping his hands on a nearby rag. He stepped toward her, his eyes flicking from the bowl of fruit to her face, as though trying to discern the real reason for her gift. But there was no pretense between them here, only the quiet truth of what they had started to build—a fragile, unspoken connection that neither of them dared to name.

“I did not understand us to be at war.” Harry teased gently, his voice dropping to that low, familiar murmur that always seemed to make Y/N’s pulse quicken.

She smiled, setting the bowl down on a nearby table. “In these walls, we are always at war.” Her tone was soft, the weight of her words lingering in the air. Her gaze shifted to the canvas behind him, where her likeness had slowly begun to take shape. He was capturing her in a way no one had before—not as the carefully polished daughter of Florence’s elite, but as the restless, untamed spirit she had always been. She stepped closer to the easel, studying the way he had painted her eyes, the intensity of her gaze, the subtle fire that simmered beneath the surface.

“You paint me as though you know me.” She paused, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s eyes softened, his expression unreadable as he stood beside her. “I am beginning to.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the quiet intimacy of his words. She felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she had never allowed herself to be before. For so long, she had worn her defiance as armor, a shield against the world that sought to control her. But here, with Harry, she didn’t need that armor. She could be raw, unguarded, free.

Y/N turned to face him fully, her bare feet making no sound on the cold stone floor. She had spent her life being afraid—afraid of disappointing her family, afraid of not living up to their expectations, afraid of being trapped in a life that wasn’t her own. But standing here, inches away from Harry, she realized that the only thing she was truly afraid of was losing this—this feeling, this connection, this fleeting glimpse of what life could be like outside the constraints of duty and decorum. “I am no artist, but your own beauty belongs on canvas.”

For a moment, Harry’s hand hovered near hers, as though he was about to reach out, to close the distance between them. But instead, he stepped back, turning to the easel once more, a breathy chuckle escaping him. “Okay, Shakespeare. Let us thank our lucky stars that you are not.”

She laughs with him, placing the bowl of fruit on the table beside the paint. She shook her head, popping a grape into her mouth. “Here I thought you to whisper me something poetic—we all have an art about us, we are art ourselves.” She mocked in his accent, rolling her eyes.

“Well that would be simply untrue.” He grinned, adjusting the canvas before him. “I am much too talented for you to compare your hand to my own.”

She scoffed, though it was humorous. Through her feigned offense, his lips only spread wider. “Show me to be wrong.”

“Show you wrong?” She raised her eyebrow, parting her lips. “You want me to paint you?”

He nodded, glancing at the blank canvases behind him. She only rolled her eyes as she gently grabbed his wrist, pulling him to the chair into the center of the room. He sat expectantly, his dimple cratering his cheeks as she retreated back toward the bowl of fruit, fishing out a deep red cherry, skipping back toward him. He knit his brows in confusion, but Y/N’s lips parted to speak before him. “You are to be my canvas.” She smiled, bring the cherry to his lips like a challenge. His expression was amused, though he couldn’t deny the way she made his chest tighten with tension. His eyes flickered between both her eyes and the fruit as he gently bit into the fruit, his lips brushing against her fingertips.

It was slow, deliberately intimate. Their eyes still burrowed into each others, she watched as the bead of crimson juice dribble down his chin. She thumbed it away, her touch light and fleeting before she feathers the fruit across the apples of his cheeks, adding to the already flushed pigment. Hesitantly, she pressed her fingers into the glistening flesh, patting it in and leaving his cheeks and lips painted red.

She steps back ever so slightly, putting the rest of the cherry into her mouth and letting a quiet laugh escape her lips. “Consider yourself to be painted.”

He shook his head, his cherry red lips widening into a smile as he stood. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s how it works.” Harry leaned in close, his breath a whisper against her cheek, but he made no move to wipe the remnants of cherry from his skin. His eyes, still dancing with amusement, searched hers, lingering with a quiet intensity. “I’ll grant you this.” He murmured, his voice low, carrying the hint of a jest. “Your methods are..most unconventional.”

She smirked, refusing to be daunted by his nearness. “Unconventional?” she quipped, her chin rising with a flicker of defiance. “I would call it a work of art. Would you not?”

Harry raised a brow, feigning deep thought as he smeared the red juice across his chin with a casual flick of his finger. “A work of art, you say? If by that you mean I appear as though I’ve just stumbled from a duel with a fruit cart, then aye, I’ll concede to your genius.”

Her laughter rang through the studio, a sharp contrast to the quiet that had hung heavy in the room moments before. It echoed off the stone walls, a sound so free that it banished all thoughts of duty, of propriety. The half-finished portrait on the easel, the weight of her family’s name—all of it melted away. In that moment, it was just them. Two souls bound in a fleeting absurdity, lost in shared laughter.

“Delicate sensibilities,” she teased, her brow arching as she wiped the last of the cherry’s stain from her hand. “I never thought to find such in a man.”

Harry’s lips curled into a slow, wicked grin. “Delicate, am I?” He drawled, his voice thick with mischief. In a single swift motion, he swiped his thumb across her cheek, leaving a streak of red in its wake. “There. Now we are even.”

She gasped in mock indignation, taking a step back as her fingers flew to the sticky mark on her face. “You’ll rue this day, Harry Styles.”

“Will I?” he challenged, his tone now deep and laden with mischief of its own.

Y/N moved closer, closing the space between them with a deliberate slowness. Her heart raced, but not with the trepidation that had gripped her so often in this room. No, this was something far more exhilarating. The world outside this studio—the rules, the expectations, the rigid walls of her life—it all felt distant, unimportant.

“I’ve never claimed to be a master of painting,” she whispered, her voice dropping like the edge of a velvet curtain. She took a few steps backward, reaching into the bowl and pulling out a plum. She looks at it expectantly in the gleam of sunlight, trotting back toward the painter. “Yet I do believe the best art thrives with a hint of chaos.”

Before he could form a reply, she bit the dark fruit pressed it hard against his chest. The plum burst, sending dark juice cascading down his tunic, staining it deep purple.

Harry blinked in astonishment, his expression hanging in the space between disbelief and amusement. But the moment of shock passed swiftly, and his laughter came, full and bright. “Your peace offering was a coup!” he declared, lunging forward with a handful of cherries.

Y/N shrieked and darted away, her laughter filling the air as she dodged him. They circled the room, the once-serene studio descending into joyful chaos. Fruit flew, staining the floors, the easel, their clothes—a riot of color and recklessness.

By the grace of God the portrait remained untouched through the ordeal.

It was madness. Glorious, reckless madness. And for the first time in her life, Y/N felt utterly, completely free. Free from the chains of decorum, free from the burden of her family’s name. In that riot of fruit and laughter, she was simply alive.

When at last they collapsed onto the floor, breathless and sticky, the room a ruin of color and laughter, neither of them could stop smiling.

Harry lay beside her, still chuckling as he tugged at the ruined tunic. “If my patrons could see me now, they’d see me cast out of Florence faster than y’could say ‘masterpiece.’”

Y/N propped herself up on her elbow, a grin dancing across her lips. “Then we shall flee to the hills. I’ll hide you amongst the olive groves. We’ll live like rogues, artists and outlaws.”

“Artists and outlaws,” Harry echoed, his smile softening, his eyes lingering on hers with a look that carried something far deeper than the playfulness of a moment before. “I think I could grow fond of such a life.”

And in that quiet, as their laughter ebbed into the late afternoon light, Y/N felt the air shift between them. What had started as a game, as flirtation, had become something real. Something undeniable.

And try as they might, neither could outrun it.

As they lay there amidst the chaos, the moment stretched on, teetering on the edge of something neither could fully name. Y/N’s pulse thrummed in her ears, her heart racing not from the frivolity of their earlier play, but from the weight of his gaze on her. The air between them had thickened, laden with an unspoken tension that neither laughter nor fruit could break.

Just as her lips parted to speak—to say something, anything to diffuse the intensity—a sound, sharp and echoing, pierced the air.

The door to the studio had swung open, and there, silhouetted by the fading light of the late afternoon, stood Y/N’s mother, Lady Candela, her presence a sudden, jarring intrusion into their world of fleeting freedom.

Her eyes, dark and sharp as the blade of a dagger, took in the scene before her: the floor littered with the remnants of their childish game, the streaks of fruit staining both their clothes and skin, the disheveled state of her daughter and the painter. And in an instant, the mask of propriety that Y/N had so desperately sought to tear away snapped back into place.

“Y/N.” Her mother’s voice was cold, clipped, a tone that could freeze the blood in one’s veins. “What, in God’s name, is the meaning of this?”

Y/N scrambled to her feet, her breath catching in her throat, but her defiance flickered in her eyes. She had been caught, but she would not cower. “Mother,” she began, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart, “it was nothing—just—”

“Nothing?” Lady Candela stepped forward, her posture rigid, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. “This disgrace is nothing? You, a daughter of the Candela family, covered in filth like a common servant? Is this how you choose to honor your name?”

Harry, who had risen to his feet beside Y/N, cleared his throat, stepping forward as if to shield her from the wrath of her mother. “My Lady, it was my doing,” he lied smoothly, his voice respectful but firm. “I allowed myself to get carried away during our session. The fault is mine.”

Lady Candela’s eyes flickered to him, her disdain barely concealed. “And you—an artist—think you can speak on matters of decorum in this house? You are here to paint, not to play the fool.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing more. He could feel Y/N tense beside him, her fists clenched at her sides. The silence that followed was thick with tension, the weight of Lady Candela’s expectations pressing down on them both like a vice.

But Y/N, ever the rebel, would not be silenced.

“I am not a child, Mother,” she said quietly, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “I will not be tamed.”

Lady Candela’s gaze snapped to her daughter, her eyes narrowing. “You will be what this family needs you to be, YN. This behavior—this foolishness—ends now. You are to be married, and your actions today have only made that more urgent.”

Y/N’s heart sank, the reality of her mother’s words hitting her like a blow. Marriage. The cage she had spent her entire life trying to escape was closing in around her, tighter and tighter.

She glanced at Harry, her chest tightening. The fleeting freedom they had found in one another was slipping away, vanishing like a mirage in the desert. And yet, she knew she could not let it end like this.

“Perhaps I wished for something more than just another hollow painting to hang on the walls of your prison,” Y/N said, her voice stronger than she felt inside. She could see Harry stiffen at her side, his gaze flickering between her and Lady Candela, but he stayed silent, letting her words hang in the air.

Her mother’s mouth tightened into a thin line. She took a deliberate step forward, her eyes narrowing as they bore into Y/N. “A prison?” she hissed, her voice dropping dangerously low. “You speak of this house as if it were a cage, when all we have done—all I have done—is ensure you live in luxury, surrounded by the finest of Florence. Yet here you are, acting the fool with a common painter.” She spat the word like venom, her eyes flicking toward Harry before returning to her daughter. “Do you want to ruin yourself? To become nothing but a scandal whispered about in the courts?”

Y/N’s fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms, but she kept her voice level. “What you call ruin, I call freedom.”

Her mother’s eyes blazed, her nostrils flaring, but before she could retort, Harry stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “My Lady, if I may—”

“You may not,” Lady Candela snapped, cutting him off with a sharp glare. “You are here to paint. Nothing more. Your thoughts and opinions are of no concern to me.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, but he bowed his head, stepping back in silent acquiescence.

The silence that followed was thick with tension, each breath Y/N took feeling heavier than the last. Her mother’s gaze never wavered, cold and unyielding, but Y/N refused to back down. Not this time.

“Mother,” Y/N began again, her voice softer now, though no less resolute. “I do not wish to ruin the family’s name. But I also do not wish to be something I am not. I have given you my obedience for years, attended every ball, entertained every suitor you’ve paraded before me. But I cannot—will not—live a life that is not my own.”

For a brief moment, something flickered in Lady Candela’s eyes—something that looked almost like uncertainty, or perhaps a recognition of her daughter’s growing resolve. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same cold, unyielding stare.

“You have a duty, Y/N,” her mother said, her voice flat, as though the very word—duty—was the end of any argument. “To this family. To this city. And if you cannot understand that, then you are more lost than I thought.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, the weight of her mother’s words pressing down on her like a heavy cloak. But before she could speak, her mother turned sharply on her heel, heading toward the door.

“You will be expected at dinner,” Lady Candela called over her shoulder, her tone dismissive. “We will discuss your upcoming engagement. I suggest you clean yourself up and remember who you are.”

With that, she swept from the room, leaving Y/N and Harry standing in the wreckage of what had once been a moment of shared joy, the heavy door closing behind her with a finality that echoed through the studio.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Y/N could still feel the burn of her mother’s words, each one a reminder of the gilded cage she had been trying to escape her entire life. She swallowed hard, turning toward Harry, who was watching her with a mixture of concern and something else she couldn’t quite place.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You shouldn’t have been involved in that.”

Harry shook his head, his eyes softening as he stepped closer. “You don’t have to apologize, Y/N. I knew what I was stepping into when I took this commission.”

Y/N let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Did you? Did you know you’d be caught in the middle of a battle between duty and freedom?”

Harry smiled, but it was a sad, knowing smile. “In a way, yes. I’ve seen it before. This city—this life—demands so much from those born into its upper echelons. But I think you are stronger than you know.”

Y/N met his gaze, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. She wanted to believe him, to believe that she could somehow break free from the chains that bound her. But the reality of her situation felt suffocating, as if the walls of the studio were closing in around her.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “I don’t want to be trapped in a marriage I never wanted. But I don’t see a way out.”

Harry reached out, his hand gently brushing her arm, a small gesture of comfort. “There’s always a way out,” he said quietly. “But it’s not always easy.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for some kind of answer, some hint of hope. But all she saw was the same uncertainty that gnawed at her heart.

“I don’t know if I’m brave enough,” she whispered.

Harry’s grip on her arm tightened, just slightly, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, but full of quiet conviction. “You are. You’ve already proven that.”

For a moment, they stood there in the quiet, the weight of the world pressing down on them, but together, they felt just a little lighter. The path ahead was uncertain, and Y/N knew the battle was far from over. But for now, in this small, sunlit room, with Harry by her side, she felt just a little bit stronger.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

The heavy, golden hour light had faded, replaced by the muted grays of twilight, casting long shadows across the stone walls of the palazzo. Y/N stood before the mirror in her chambers, her reflection staring back at her, cold and distant. She had shed the stained silk gown and washed the remnants of the fruit from her skin, but no amount of scrubbing could remove the weight of her mother’s words or the tension coiled tight in her chest.

Dinner. The final act of the day’s charade, where her mother’s sharp gaze and her father’s stony silence would frame yet another conversation about her future—a future she had no say in. The idea of sitting through another meal where her fate was decided without her input made her stomach twist with dread.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and her maid, Lucrezia, entered the room, her face a mask of quiet concern. “My lady,” she said softly, “your mother has requested your presence in the dining hall.”

Y/N let out a slow breath, her hands gripping the edge of the vanity as she steadied herself. “Of course she has,” she muttered, her voice thick with resignation.

Lucrezia stepped forward, her hands moving to adjust Y/N’s gown—another silk creation, pristine and flawless, as if nothing untoward had happened earlier. “Shall I tell her you are not feeling well?” the maid asked gently, her fingers lingering on the delicate fabric.

Y/N smiled weakly, shaking her head. “No, Lucrezia. I must face it. I always must.”

The maid nodded, though her eyes were filled with sympathy. She knew the weight that rested on Y/N’s shoulders, the burdens placed upon her by a family that demanded perfection at all times. But even Lucrezia, with her quiet understanding, could not offer a solution to the problem that had no easy answer.

With a final glance in the mirror, Y/N straightened her posture and lifted her chin. She would face this evening the way she had faced every other trial in her life—head on, even if it tore her apart inside.

The walk to the dining hall felt longer than usual, each step echoing in the vast, empty corridors. The palazzo, so grand and full of splendor, felt like a prison tonight, its marble floors cold beneath her feet, its towering walls closing in on her with every breath.

When she reached the dining hall, she paused just outside the door, gathering her courage. She could hear the faint clinking of silverware and the low murmur of voices—her mother’s sharp, clear tones and her father’s deep, measured replies. It was the sound of a family accustomed to routine, to the rigid structures of their world.

Taking one last breath, Y/N pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The dining room was grand, as always, with high ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes and a long, gleaming table set with the finest china and crystal. Her father, Lord Candela, sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable as he idly cut into his meat. Her mother sat opposite him, her posture perfect, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes sharp as they flicked up to meet Y/N’s.

“You’re late,” Lady Candela remarked, her tone light but edged with reproach.

Y/N forced a tight smile, lowering herself into the seat that had been prepared for her. “I apologize, Mother. I lost track of time.”

Her mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing more, her gaze lingering on Y/N for a moment before turning back to her plate. The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable, broken only by the clinking of silverware and the occasional murmur of servants as they moved in and out of the room.

For a few minutes, Y/N focused on her meal, her appetite nonexistent but her movements precise, each cut of the knife and placement of the fork a carefully rehearsed act of decorum. It was a routine she had perfected over the years, a mask she wore to survive these dinners, to navigate the unspoken landmines of her family’s expectations.

But tonight, the weight of that mask felt heavier than ever.

It wasn’t long before her mother broke the silence, her voice smooth but laden with intent. “Y/N, your father and I have spoken, and we believe it is time to move forward with your betrothal.”

Y/N’s fork froze halfway to her mouth, her pulse quickening as she set it down with deliberate care. She had known this conversation was coming—she had felt it looming over her for weeks, like a storm gathering on the horizon. But now that it was here, the reality of it hit her like a blow to the chest.

“Engagement?” she echoed, her voice steady but her heart racing.

Lady Candela nodded, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as though she had just solved some great puzzle. “Yes. We have received an offer from the Montellini family. Lord Montellini is a man of considerable influence, and his son, Leonardo, is a fine match for you.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her hands gripping the edge of the table as she fought to keep her composure. Leonardo Montellini. She had met him once, at a banquet—a young man with slicked-back hair and an air of arrogance that made her skin crawl. He had looked at her the way one might look at a prized horse at auction, and the thought of spending her life chained to him made her stomach churn.

“Mother, I—” Y/N began, her voice faltering for a moment as she searched for the right words, something that would convey the storm of emotions rising within her without sparking her mother’s ire. “I do not wish to marry Leonardo Montellini.”

Lady Candela’s fork paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she regarded her daughter. “What you wish is irrelevant, Y/N. This is a matter of duty. Of ensuring the future of our family. You cannot afford to be selfish in this.”

Her father, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat, his deep voice rumbling through the room. “Your mother is right, Y/N. This marriage is important. The Montellini family’s wealth and influence will secure our place in Florence for generations to come.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing as she tried to find a way out, a way to make them understand. But how could she make them see that she couldn’t—wouldn’t—live her life in a cage, bound to a man she didn’t love, trapped in a world that suffocated her?

“I understand the importance of family, Father.” Y/N said carefully, her voice measured, though her hands trembled slightly in her lap. “But I cannot marry a man I do not love. I cannot live my life as something I am not.”

Her mother’s gaze hardened, her lips curling into a faint sneer. “Love,” she scoffed, the word dripping with disdain. “What nonsense. Love is a fleeting thing, Y/N, a frivolous notion for those who have the luxury to indulge in it. We are not those people.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, her breath shallow as she fought to hold back the rising tide of panic. She could feel the walls closing in on her, the future her parents were trying to force upon her looming like a prison, cold and suffocating.

“But I am not you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but full of quiet defiance.

The silence that followed was thick, the tension between mother and daughter palpable as they stared at one another across the table. Lady Candela’s expression remained cold, unyielding, but Y/N could see the flicker of frustration in her eyes.

“You will marry Leonardo Montellini,” her mother said at last, her voice like steel. “And you will do so without further complaint. That is the end of this discussion.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her heart sinking as the weight of her mother’s words settled over her like a heavy shroud. She felt trapped, suffocated by the life they were trying to force her into, and for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to fight it.

As the servants moved quietly around the table, clearing the plates and refilling the wine, Y/N stared down at her hands, her mind racing. She knew she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t marry Leonardo. But how could she escape a future that had already been decided for her?

Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Harry—to the quiet strength in his eyes, to the way he had seen her, truly seen her, in a way no one else ever had. There was something in him, something that stirred in her a desire for more—for freedom, for choice, for a life lived on her own terms.

But that life felt impossibly far away, separated by the vast chasm of her family’s expectations and the iron grip of tradition.

And as the dinner dragged on, Y/N sat in silence, her heart heavy with the knowledge that, for now, she was still very much trapped. The clinking of silverware and the quiet hum of conversation felt distant to Y/N, as if she were trapped in a cage of sound, separate from everything around her. Her mother, satisfied that her edict had been given, spoke no more of the engagement. Instead, she shifted her attention to her father, discussing household matters and social engagements as if Y/N’s entire future hadn’t just been decided without her consent.

Y/N’s mind, however, was far from the table. It kept circling back to Harry, to the moments in his studio where, for the first time in her life, she had felt something close to freedom. His presence had stirred something within her—a quiet rebellion, a fire that had been smoldering beneath the surface for so long it had almost gone unnoticed. Until now.

As her mother droned on about the upcoming ball and the importance of making a good impression, Y/N’s fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass. The thought of standing beside Leonardo Montellini, paraded like a prized possession for Florence’s elite to admire, made her stomach turn. She had seen his eyes on her before—hungry, possessive, as though she were nothing more than a means to an end for him. The Montellinis wanted to solidify their power, and she was the key to that door.

She could feel the bile rising in her throat, the suffocating weight of her family’s expectations pressing down on her like a vice. How many more dinners like this would she endure? How many more nights would she be forced to smile, nod, and pretend that her life was something she could control?

No. She wouldn’t accept this.

“Y/N,” her mother’s voice cut through her thoughts like a blade, sharp and sudden. Y/N blinked, realizing she had been staring down at her untouched plate for far too long. Her mother’s gaze was fixed on her, cool and assessing. “What fare you? You have been rather quiet.”

Y/N looked up, her heart racing as she met her mother’s eyes. For a brief moment, she considered telling her the truth—telling her that she wasn’t well, that she couldn’t bear the thought of marrying Leonardo, that the life they had planned for her was suffocating her.

But the words died in her throat. Her mother would never understand. To Lady Candela, duty was everything, and love was nothing more than a foolish indulgence.

Y/N straightened her spine, steeling herself against the rising tide of emotions that threatened to betray her in front of her family. Her voice, when it finally came, was measured and cool. “I am well, Mother. Merely tired.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she did not press further, turning her attention back to the meal with a dismissive wave of her hand. Y/N, however, could feel the weight of her father’s gaze lingering on her for just a moment longer. He was quieter than her mother, but no less powerful in his expectations.

The remainder of the dinner passed in a blur, with Y/N’s mind distant from the conversation at the table. As soon as the final course was cleared and her parents rose from their seats, she made her excuses and slipped away, retreating to the sanctuary of her chambers.

Once inside, Y/N locked the door behind her and pressed her back against it, her heart pounding in her chest. The events of the evening, the threat of her future being sealed with a man like Leonardo, weighed heavily on her. She crossed the room to the window, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the sill and stared out into the night.

The city of Florence lay before her, bathed in the soft glow of lanterns and moonlight. From her window, it looked peaceful, almost serene, but Y/N knew better. The world outside her family’s palazzo was teeming with life, with freedom that she could only dream of.

And in that world, somewhere amidst the winding streets and narrow alleyways, was Harry.

Her thoughts drifted to him once again, to the way his eyes had softened when he spoke to her, the quiet understanding that passed between them without words. In his studio, she had felt something she had never known before—something raw and unburdened by the chains of her family’s name. It wasn’t just attraction, though she couldn’t deny the pull she felt toward him. It was more than that. It was the promise of escape, of possibility. With him, she could breathe.

Y/N closed her eyes, letting the cool night air wash over her as she made a decision.

She could not stay in this gilded prison any longer. She could not marry Leonardo. She would not be used as a pawn in her family’s games. And if there was anyone who could help her find a way out, it was Harry.

Her heart raced at the thought, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through her veins. It was reckless, perhaps even dangerous, but she had no other choice. She had to act before it was too late, before her fate was sealed by forces beyond her control.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Y/N slipped into a simple cloak, pulling the hood over her head to shield her face. She moved quickly and quietly, slipping through the darkened corridors of the palazzo until she reached a small, hidden door that led to the courtyard.

As she stepped outside, the cool night air wrapped around her like a cloak of freedom. She paused for a moment, glancing back at the towering walls of her family’s home, the place that had held her captive for so long. And then, with a determined breath, she turned and disappeared into the shadows of the city, her feet carrying her toward Harry’s studio.

The narrow streets of Florence were quiet at this hour, save for the occasional flicker of lamplight or the soft murmur of voices carried on the breeze. Y/N kept her hood low, her steps quick and purposeful as she moved through the labyrinth of alleyways. She had walked these streets before—many times in the dark of night—but tonight felt different. Tonight, the weight of her decision pressed down on her like the stone arches above.

As she neared Harry’s studio, her heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. What was she even doing? She had no plan, no real escape beyond the hope that Harry would understand, that he might offer her a path out of this life she couldn’t bear. A reckless hope, she knew, but it was the only thing she had left.

The studio was tucked away behind a row of trees, secluded from the main roads. The small building, though unremarkable to most, had become a haven for her—one of the few places where she could let go of the expectations that had weighed her down for so long. And Harry, with his quiet strength and sad, knowing eyes, had become the embodiment of the freedom she craved.

As Y/N reached the door, her breath hitched in her chest. She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the handle. What if she had misread everything? What if Harry did not want to be a part of her rebellion, her escape?

Yet she stood at his door anyway.

She pushed the door open, the familiar creak breaking the stillness of the night. Inside, the soft glow of a few candles lit the room, casting long shadows over the walls. The scent of drying oils and turpentine filled the air, mingling with the earthy smell of wet canvas. Harry was at his easel, his back to the door, lost in the rhythm of his work.

For a moment, Y/N stood there, watching him in the golden light. His dark curls fell over his brow, and his hand moved with a kind of precision that made her chest tighten. He was absorbed, unaware of her presence, and the sight of him in his element, so quietly powerful, made her heart ache with something she couldn’t name.

“Harry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness.

He froze for a moment, his brush poised in mid-air. Slowly, he turned to face her, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in the sight of her standing there, cloaked in shadow. “Dove?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge of concern in it. “What are you doing here?”

She stepped further into the room, her hands trembling beneath the folds of her cloak. “I had to see you.”

His brow furrowed, and he set his brush down, wiping his hands on a rag before crossing the room toward her. “It’s late. If anyone sees you—”

“I bear no sentiment to it,” she interrupted, her voice sharper than she intended. Her breath came quickly, the weight of everything catching up with her all at once. “I cannot stay there any longer, Harry. I can’t marry Leonardo Montellini. I cannot live that life.”

He studied her for a moment, his green eyes searching hers, and she saw the conflict in his gaze—the pull between wanting to help her and knowing the dangers of what she was asking. “What are you saying, Y/N?” he asked quietly, though there was a heaviness in his tone.

“I’m saying I need to leave. I need to escape before they lock me into a life I never wanted.” Her voice trembled with the intensity of the confession, and she took a step closer to him. “I don’t know where to go or how to do it, but I cannot stay here.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. His eyes flickered with something—worry, perhaps, or fear for what this might mean for both of them. He glanced at the door, then back to her, the weight of her words sinking in.”

“Do you know what you’re asking?” he said, his voice low. “If you leave, there’s no going back. Your family—Florence—”

“I know,” Y/N whispered, her eyes pleading with him to understand. “But what is the alternative? To be sold off to a man who does not care about me? To live my life in a cage, pretending to be something I am not? I cannot bear it, Harry. I won’t.”

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process what she was saying. She could see the battle in his eyes, the part of him that wanted to protect her warring with the part that understood the gravity of the situation. “And what do you desire from me?” he asked softly, though she could hear the strain in his voice.

Y/N stepped closer, her heart pounding in her chest as she met his gaze. “I want you to come with me.”

The words hung in the air between them, charged with a kind of desperate hope. She knew it was asking too much, knew that she had no right to pull him into her escape, but in that moment, Harry was the only person she trusted. The only person who understood her enough to help her break free.

Harry’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he looked as though he might say yes. His hand reached out, brushing against hers in a gesture so small, so intimate, it made her chest tighten.

But then he pulled away, shaking his head. “Y/N, I—”

“I know it’s reckless,” she cut him off, her voice filled with a kind of raw vulnerability she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years. “But I can’t do this alone. I need you.”

Harry’s expression was torn, his hand still hovering near hers as if he wanted to take it, to pull her into his arms and promise her everything. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice heavy with regret. “If we run, they will come after us. Your family will not let you go so easily. You know this.”

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let the weight of his words crush her hope. “Then we’ll be careful. We’ll go somewhere they can’t find us. Please, Harry.” Her voice broke, and she reached out, gripping his arm as though she could will him to say yes. “I know not of heaven nor hell. I know not of Lucifer or God, I know only what I see before me, and If i were to draw my last breath tomorrow, I would perish with all this regret—my soul bound to my grave for eternity.”

For a long moment, Harry didn’t move. He stood there, staring down at her with an expression so conflicted it made her heart ache. And then, finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat.

“We’ll need to leave before first light,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Pack only what y’can carry.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, a mixture of relief and disbelief washing over her as his words sank in. “You’ll come with me?”

Harry met her gaze, and though his eyes were filled with uncertainty, there was a quiet determination in them as well. “Wherever.” He murmured. “But we must be careful.”

A flood of emotions rushed through Y/N all at once—relief, fear, gratitude, and something else she couldn’t quite name. She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest as tears of both joy and fear slipped down her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against him. “Thank you, Harry.”

He held her for a moment, his hand resting on the back of her head as if trying to steady them both in the face of what they were about to do. “We shall figure it out,” he said quietly, though she could hear the weight of the uncertainty in his voice.

But for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N believed him.

As they stood there in the quiet of the studio, the world outside slowly fading into darkness, Y/N felt a small spark of hope flicker to life within her. She didn’t know what the future would hold, but for now, she wasn’t alone.

*

The night air outside the palazzo was thick with the scent of jasmine and damp stone, but to Y/N, it felt more like freedom than anything else. The distant sounds of Florence, the murmur of distant conversations and the soft rush of water from the Arno, filled the silence as she made her way through the narrow streets, her bag slung over her shoulder. Her heart raced, but her steps were sure now. This was her choice, her rebellion.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting its pale light over the winding alleys and quiet courtyards as Y/N hurried back to Harry’s studio. Her thoughts were a whirlwind—but she couldn’t think of it now. The only thing that mattered was what lay ahead. She had to believe that there was a life waiting for her beyond the walls of Florence, beyond the expectations that had shackled her for so long. And with Harry by her side, perhaps—just perhaps—she could find it.

As she reached the secluded courtyard where Harry’s studio stood, Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The small building was bathed in moonlight, its wooden door slightly ajar, as if waiting for her. She paused for a moment, her hand resting on the doorframe, listening to the soft rustle of the wind in the olive trees.

Inside, the studio was quiet, save for the gentle flicker of the remaining candle on the windowsill. Harry stood at the far end of the room, packing his own bag—his movements careful and deliberate. When he heard her enter, he turned, his eyes immediately meeting hers. There was no need for words; he could see the decision in her gaze, the finality of it. She was here, and there was no going back.

“You are prepared?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge of tension there, a quiet understanding of what they were about to do.

Y/N nodded, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “I am.”

Harry’s eyes softened as he crossed the room toward her, his hand reaching out to brush against her arm in a gesture of comfort. “We shall be leaving soon. I’ve made arrangements to head south, toward Siena. s’not far, but far enough. We will be out of reach, at least for now.”

Siena. The name sounded distant and unfamiliar to Y/N, but it didn’t matter. Anywhere was better than here, better than the fate that awaited her if she stayed. She met Harry’s gaze, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes as she nodded.

“I trust you,” she whispered, the weight of her words hanging in the air between them.

Harry held her gaze for a moment longer, his green eyes full of that quiet, steady strength that had always made her feel safe. “Then we’ll make it through this,” he said softly. “Together.”

He moved to the door, pulling it fully open and stepping outside into the cool night air. Y/N followed close behind, her heart pounding in her chest as the reality of what they were about to do sank in. They were running. Not just from Florence, but from the lives they had known, from the expectations and the rules that had governed them for so long.

The streets of Florence stretched out before them, dark and silent, like a sleeping beast. They would have to move quickly, before the city woke, before her family realized she was gone. Harry led the way, his pace measured but urgent as they slipped through the narrow alleyways, avoiding the more well-lit streets where guards might patrol.

Y/N kept her hood pulled low over her face, her heart racing with every step they took. She glanced over her shoulder more than once, half-expecting to see her father or Leonardo rounding the corner, chasing her down. But the streets were empty, save for the occasional whisper of the wind.

They moved in silence, the weight of their decision hanging heavy between them, but there was no hesitation now. They had crossed the line, and there was no turning back.

It wasn’t long before they reached the outskirts of the city, where the walls of Florence loomed high above them, casting long shadows over the ground. The gates were closed, but Harry had anticipated this. He led Y/N to a small passageway, hidden between the stones and covered with vines. It was narrow, barely wide enough for one person at a time, but it led out of the city—an old smuggler’s route, known only to a few.

“This way.” Harry whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they hadn’t been followed.

Y/N nodded, following him through the narrow gap in the wall, her heart pounding in her chest as they squeezed through the passage. The air was cooler on the other side, the scent of the open countryside replacing the dense smell of the city. When they finally emerged, they found themselves on a small, winding road that led away from Florence, disappearing into the hills beyond.

Y/N paused for a moment, turning back to look at the city she was leaving behind. The towering domes and spires of Florence rose into the night sky, bathed in moonlight. It was beautiful—so beautiful it made her chest ache. But it was also a prison, a place that had tried to shape her into something she could never be.

She turned back to Harry, her breath catching as she realized the full weight of what they had done. They were free. But freedom came with a price—a price they had only just begun to pay.

Harry met her gaze, his expression soft but serious. “There’s no going back now,” he said quietly, as if reading the thoughts running through her mind.

Y/N nodded, her hand instinctively reaching for his, their fingers brushing in the cool night air. “I know,” she whispered. “And I am ready.”

Together, they turned and started down the road, leaving Florence behind them—its walls, its expectations, its suffocating weight—everything. The future was uncertain, full of dangers and unknowns. But for the first time in her life, Y/N felt a spark of hope flicker within her. She was free. And with Harry by her side, perhaps—just perhaps—she could build a life that was truly her own.

As they walked through the quiet countryside, the stars above them shining like tiny, distant beacons, Y/N knew that they were only at the beginning of their journey. There would be challenges ahead, and dangers they couldn’t yet foresee. But for now, she allowed herself to breathe in the cool night air, to feel the weight of the past slowly lift from her shoulders.

She glanced at Harry, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the moon, and felt a sense of calm wash over her. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together. And that, she thought, was more than enough.

It had been two days since they left Florence behind, and the journey had been long, filled with the quiet tension of fear that someone might catch up to them, might discover their flight. The sun had dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the rolling hills as Y/N and Harry approached a small inn nestled at the edge of a sleepy village. The inn was humble, tucked between groves of olive trees and fields dotted with grazing sheep. It wasn’t much—just a small stone building with weathered shutters and a modest stable for travelers’ horses—but it was enough. For the first time since leaving the city, they could breathe.

Inside, the inn was warm, the smell of bread baking in the hearth mingling with the faint scent of wood smoke. The innkeeper, a woman with kind eyes and silver streaks in her hair, greeted them with little more than a nod, motioning them toward the narrow staircase that led to their room.

As they climbed the stairs, the weight of the past two days seemed to settle over Y/N like a heavy cloak. The adrenaline that had carried her through the journey was fading, replaced by the quiet realization of what they had done. They had left everything behind—their lives, their families, their very identities—and now, here they were, standing on the precipice of a future they had yet to define.

Their room was small, with a single window that overlooked the fields beyond the village. A modest bed stood against one wall, and a small wooden table with two chairs sat near the hearth. The fire had already been lit, the flames flickering softly in the dim light of the evening.

Harry set their bags down by the door, glancing around the room before turning to Y/N. His expression was calm, but there was a tension in his eyes—a quiet awareness that they had crossed a line they could never uncross.

Y/N crossed the room to the window, her fingers brushing against the cool glass as she looked out at the fading light. The sky was a deep, dusky blue, and the first stars were beginning to appear, faint and far away. For a moment, she said nothing, her thoughts swirling like leaves caught in the wind.

Y/N finally broke the silence, her voice soft and uncertain. "Do you think we made the right choice?"

Harry turned from the window, his gaze settling on her. His green eyes, illuminated by the firelight, were filled with something unreadable-fear, perhaps, but also a quiet determination. He stepped closer, the floorboards creaking beneath his boots as he walked toward her.

"There was no other choice, Y/N.” He said gently, kneeling beside her. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against hers, grounding her in the reality of their shared decision. "Not for you, not for me. Remaining in Florence..it would have destroyed you.”

She looked up at him, her heart aching with the weight of his words. "But what have we done, Harry?" she whispered “I–” her voice trembling. "I have abandoned my family, my name. What if they find us? What if–" Her words trailed off, the enormity of their flight catching up with her. Her thoughts tangled in Fear. Fear of what might come, fear of the unknown future they now faced together.

Harry's gaze softened, and he took her hand fully in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a soothing motion. "I do not know what will come," he admitted, his voice low and steady. "But I know that staying in Florence vould have been a life you could not live. You would have been chained, Y/N, to a life of duty, of expectations that would have suffocated you. What we have now, it may be uncertain, but it is ours."

She blinked, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "And you, Harry? What have you given up for me?"

Harry smiled faintly, shaking his head as if the question was unnecessary. "Florence never belonged to me.” He murmured. "| painted for men who looked down on me, for families who never saw what I could truly do. l've left behind nothing of importance." He paused, his gaze deepening as he looked into her eyes. "But y–you are the first thing that's ever felt real to me."

Y/N's breath caught at his words, her heart thudding in her chest. She had never expected this-never imagined that leaving Florence would mean finding something, someone, who saw her not as the Candela daughter but as herself, YN, in all her flawed and wild glory. "And what do we do now?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "We are not nobility here, Harry. We bear no titles, no claims to protect us."

Harry stood then, his hand still holding hers as he pulled her gently to her feet. His expression softened, though there was a hint of something deeper in his eyes, something that made her pulse quicken. "We live Y/N.” he said simply, his voice low and intimate. “For the first time, we live as we choose. I have land in Siena, now—it isn’t much, but it’s a roof and four walls.”

He drew her closer, their bodies inches apart, the warmth from the fire mingling with the heat of his presence. Y/N could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breath hitching as his gaze settled on her lips for a brief, tantalizing moment. “You are free now.” Harry murmured, his voice a whisper in the quiet of the room. "Whatever comes next, we face it together."

Y/N swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling deep within her. She could feel the walls between them crumbling, the barriers they had built around themselves dissolving in the heat of the fire. And as she looked up at him, her heart in her throat, she knew that whatever lay ahead, she wanted him beside her—no matter the cost.

Slowly, tentatively, she reached up, her fingers brushing against his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath her touch. Harry inhaled sharply, his hand sliding to her waist, pulling her closer still. The air between them seemed to crackle, the unspoken tension that had simmered for so long finally rising to the surface. "Y/N," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, drawing her lips closer to his. Their kiss is slow, appreciative—full of months that had gone without it. He cupped her cheek as he parted briefly, holding her eyes into her own before he smiled. Harry's lips crashed against hers in a fierce, desperate kiss, his hands tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer still. Y/N gasped against his mouth, her fingers gripping his tunic as the heat of the fire surrounded them, enveloping them in warmth. The kiss deepened, becoming something raw, something that spoke of all the things they had left unsaid —their fear, their hope, their unspoken love.

They stumbled back toward the hearth, their bodies pressed together as Harry's hands roamed over her, pulling at the ties of her gown, freeing her from the constraints of fabric. Y/N's breath hitched as the cool air touched her bare skin, but Harry's warmth, his touch, was all she needed. He held her close, his lips tracing a path down her neck, sending shivers of pleasure through her body.

The heat between them became unbearable, a fire that consumed all reason. Harry's hands moved with purpose, deftly undoing the ties of Y/ N's gown, his fingertips brushing against her skin with a tenderness that belied the hunger in his gaze. Her breath came in shallow gasps as the fabric fell away, baring her to him. His eyes, darkened with desire, roamed over her with reverence, as though he was seeing her not as a woman of noble birth, but as someone entirely his, a secret kept only for him.

Her pulse quickened under the weight of his gaze, and her hands, trembling slightly, moved to the front of his tunic. She tugged at the laces, fumbling as her fingers brushed the hard planes of his chest beneath the linen. Harry let out a low groan, his own need palpable in the way his breath hitched, the way his body responded to her touch. He shrugged out of his tunic, tossing it aside, revealing the lean, muscled form that had been hidden beneath.

For a moment, they simply stood there, the space between them charged with a tension that was nearly unbearable. The firelight flickered across their skin, casting shadows that danced along the stone walls of the inn, but all Y/N could focus on was Harry—the way his chest rose and fell with each labored breath, the way his eyes darkened as they traced the curves of her body. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached for him, her hands sliup his arms, feeling the strength in his muscles. Their breaths mingled, and as Harry leaned in to kiss her, the tension between them reached a breaking point. His lips were soft but insistent, claiming hers with a need that mirrored her own.

Y/N's hands found his hair, pulling him closer, desperate to feel him against her, to erase the distance that had always lingered between them until now.

He guided her down onto the fur-lined rug before the fire, his hands caressing her with a tenderness that made her breath catch. The warmth of the flames flickered around them, casting their shadows on the walls, but in this moment, there was only the heat between them, the way their bodies fit together as if they had been made for this. They had stripped away the layers of propriety, both figuratively and literally, leaving only the raw desire that now pulsed between them. Y/N's heart raced as Harry’s body hovered over hers, his eyes dark with a hunger she had never seen before. Her skin flushed under his gaze, the anticipation swirling in her belly like a storm.

He kissed her softly, his lips moving against hers with a tenderness that made her melt into him, but there was something else in his touch—something deeper, something more primal. As his hands roamed her body, tracing every curve and dip, Y/N felt a strange mix of excitement and nerves coiling inside her. She had never known this kind of intimacy before, never been touched in such a way.

Harry pulled back slightly, his breath warm against her neck as he pressed a trail of soft, lingering kisses down her throat, over her collarbone, and lower still, to the curve of her breasts. His hands slid down her sides, gently parting her legs as he kissed his way lower, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Y/N's breath hitched, her body trembling beneath his touch, and she instinctively pressed her thighs together.

Harry paused, his lips hovering just above her skin, his hands still resting on her hips as he looked up at her with a soft, knowing smile. "Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice low, rough with desire but tender, too.

Y/N nodded, her breath trembling as she met his gaze, the flickering firelight casting shadows across his face. “I do, H." She whispered.

Harry's smile deepened, and he pressed a soft kiss to her inner thigh, his hands gently coaxing her legs apart once more. "I got you, dove. Promise.” He murmured, his voice a quiet, confident assurance that sent a shiver of anticipation through her.

Y/N's pulse quickened as Harry kissed his way higher, his lips brushing her skin in a way that made her body ache with a need she had never known before. Her hands gripped the fur beneath her as his mouth hovered just above her most intimate place, and when his lips finally made contact, a gasp escaped her, her body tensing with the unfamiliar sensation. It was unlike anything she had ever felt—a warmth, a softness, and then the slow, deliberate flick of his tongue against her bud, sending a jolt of pleasure through her core.

Y/N's head fell back, her breath catching in her throat as Harry continued, his mouth working with skill and precision. He moved with confidence, as though he knew exactly what she needed, exactly how to coax the pleasure from her body.

Harry's hands slid up her thighs, his fingers pressing gently into her skin, grounding her in the moment. His tongue moved in slow, teasing strokes, building a rhythm that made Y/N's body tremble with each touch. Her hips moved instinctively toward him, a soft moan escaping her lips as the pleasure began to build, layer upon layer, each stroke of his tongue pushing her closer to a place she had never been.

"Harry," she gasped, her voice breathless, her fingers tangling in his hair as she arched her back, the heat between her legs overwhelming. She had never imagined this kind of pleasure, had never known it was even possible.

Harry hummed softly against her, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through her as his tongue moved faster, more insistently. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer to his mouth, and Y/N's entire body shuddered with the intensity of it, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The world around her blurred, the crackle of the fire fading into the background as she became lost in the sensation of his mouth, his tongue, his touch.

The tension in her belly coiled tighter and tighter, the pleasure building with every movement of his lips, every flick of his tongue. Y/N had never felt anything like it before—this burning, all-consuming need that made her body tremble, her breath catch, her heart race. She was on the edge, teetering between control and surrender, and with one final, skilled movement of his tongue, she fell.

A cry tore from her lips as the pleasure crested, washing over her in waves that left her breathless, her body trembling beneath him. Her fingers tightened in his hair, her hips lifting off the rug as the pleasure pulsed through her, intense and overwhelming. Harry didn't stop, his mouth working her through the height of her release, his hands holding her steady as she writhed beneath him, lost in the sensation.

When the waves of pleasure finally began to ebb, Y/N collapsed back onto the rug, her body spent, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Her limbs felt heavy, her skin flushed and sensitive, and as Harry pressed a final, soft kiss to her inner thigh, she shivered, her body still tingling from the intensity of it all.

Slowly, Harry rose, his hands sliding up her body as he kissed his way back up to her lips, his breath warm and soft against her skin. He settled beside her, pulling her into his arms, his lips brushing her forehead as she nestled against his chest, her heart still pounding from the intensity of her release. “Told you I had you, hm?” He cooed, combing his fingers through her disheveled hair.

She nodded, the sound of her heart thumping in her ears as she cupped his cheek, pulling him into another kiss. His hands roamed from her hips to her breasts, rolling back on top of her with a smirk. His hands roamed her body, caressing, exploring, a though trying to commit every inch of her to memory.

Y/N arched beneath him, her body responding to his touch with a need that had been building for weeks, months even. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate for the connection she had longed for, and Harry groaned, his body trembling with the weight of his desire. Slowly, reverently, he guided himself into her, his movements gentle, careful, as though afraid to break the fragile spell between them. She gasped at the sensation, her fingers gripping his shoulders as he filled her, their bodies finally coming together in a way that felt inevitable, as if they had been meant for this moment all along.

For a heartbeat, they stayed like that, perfectly still, their breaths mingling, their hearts pounding in unison. He was entranced by the feeling of her walls fluttering around his cock, the way she stretched around him.

Then, slowly, Harry began to move, his hips rocking against hers in a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. Y/N’s head fell back further into the rug, a moan escaping her lips as she gave herself over to the sensation, to the connection that seemed to bind them together more deeply than any words ever could.

Harry's movements were slow at first, deliberate, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through her body, but soon the restraint he had tried to maintain began to slip. His pace quickened, his body moving against hers with a raw, desperate need that matched her own. The sound of their breathing, of their bodies moving together, filled the room, mingling with the crackle of the fire and the whisper of the wind outside.

Y/N's fingers dug into his back, her nails leaving faint marks on his skin as her body arched beneath him, her breath coming in gasps. Every touch, every kiss, every thrust was a promise, a declaration that neither of them could speak but both understood.

"Harry," she whispered, her voice trembling with the intensity of her need, with the overwhelming sensation building inside her. "I–” But she couldn't finish the sentence. Words seemed inadequate to describe what she felt, the way her body and soul seemed to be unraveling in his arms.

Harry's lips found hers again, silencing her with a kiss that was all-consuming, his body moving against hers with an urgency that mirrored her own. He groaned against her mouth, his breath ragged, his hands gripping her hips as though afraid to let her go. “Y’like that, huh?” He grunted, bottoming out with each thrust. “Sound so pretty, the way you sing f’me.”

She nodded, eyes glossed over in pleasure as she wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder with whimpers of praises. And then, with one final, desperate thrust, Y/N felt herself fall over the edge, her body trembling with release as the pleasure crashed over her like a wave. She cried out, her fingers tangled in his curls, her heart pounding in her chest as the world seemed to fall away around her.

In that moment, Harry pulled away, his breath hot against her neck as he pressed his forehead against her shoulder, his body shuddering with restraint. His hands tightened on her hips as he pulled back, separating them just before the inevitable.

A moan fell from his lips, and Y/N swore it was the prettiest melody she’s ever heard.

He fisted his cock, coaxing his hand back and forth before he lets out a low whimper, spilling himself right onto her abdomen—decorating her in opaque that marked her as his.

His sigh was heavy as he fell back beside her, placing a kiss to her temple as she lie there breathlessly. For a moment, they lay there in the quiet, their bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all, the only sound in the room the soft crackling of the fire. Y/N's chest rose and fell with the aftershocks of pleasure, her heart still racing, but she felt safe. “S’warm.” She giggled, his release glistening in the flames of the fire.

He couldn’t help but smile as he maneuvered his arm beneath her neck, turning to his side as he rested his chin atop her head. “Promise I’ll clean y’up.” He chuckled, draping his other arm across her chest, to which she reaches up and holds his bicep with a smile.

He presses a kiss into her hair, breathing her in. “Ad vitam aeternam.” He murmured, listening to the fire crackle and her even breaths.

Her eyebrows furrowed, recognizing some of the words but she figured the meanings are different, because what she interpreted made no sense at all. He tilted her head back, looking at the man expectantly as he shifted his own head ever so slightly to place a soft kiss against her lips. “To eternal life.”

Her cheeks flushed as she stared into him, the color almost as red as the cherries from the other day. She runs her fingers through his curls, a small smile spreading across her lips.

His own eyes searches hers, the tips of their nose almost touching. His hands cup her face, thumbing gentle strokes onto her cheek. “What?”

She lied her hand atop the one on her face, dipping the tips of her fingers to hold onto his grasp. “I’m falling in love with you.”

He exhales through his nose, a chuckle laced with content emitting from his mouth. He nudges his nose with hers, brushing their lips together softly before pressing it into a kiss. He smiles, pulling back after a beat. “I already have.”

[bookished]

( a collection of starters. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post 💛 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips

The old, leather-bound journal was found hidden under the floorboards of the abandoned mansion. Its pages contained cryptic messages and a map that seemed to lead to something of great value���or danger.

In a world where the stars can be plucked from the sky and turned into powerful talismans, a young orphan discovers a constellation that has never been seen before. It points to a destiny that could change the fate of the entire realm.

During the height of the Renaissance, a young artist discovers a hidden chamber in the heart of Florence. Inside, she finds sketches of inventions far beyond her time and a letter addressed to her, written centuries ago.

Two strangers meet on a delayed train during a snowstorm on Christmas Eve. As they share stories to pass the time, they realize they have more in common than they ever imagined—and that fate might have brought them together for a reason.

In a small, isolated village, people start to vanish without a trace. The only clue left behind is a symbol carved into the doors of their homes, a mark that matches ancient legends of a vengeful spirit.

In a future where emotions are controlled by the government, a young woman discovers an underground movement that aims to restore true feelings to humanity. She must decide whether to join them or stay in the safety of her regulated life.

Every night, a small café in the city transforms into a magical place where time stands still and dreams come to life. Only a select few know about its existence, and one day, an ordinary person stumbles upon it by accident.

A high school student finds an old camera at a garage sale. When they develop the photos, they see glimpses of the future. Now, they must navigate high school life while trying to change events they know are coming.

"I don't believe in coincidences, especially not ones involving missing people."

"You mean to tell me you've never seen a dragon before? Where have you been living, under a rock?"

"The prophecy spoke of a hero, but I never imagined it would be someone like you."

"This isn't just a piece of space debris; it's a message."

"Our planet was destroyed. We're the last survivors, and we need your help."

"Do you really believe the king will pardon us if we find the lost treasure?"

"She's a woman in a man's world, but she'll change history, mark my words."

"I didn't come here to fall in love; I came to find myself."

"Every letter I wrote to you, I wrote with my heart in my hand."

"That house has been abandoned for years. Why would anyone go inside willingly?"

"The shadows in this place…they move when you're not looking."

"There's a map, but it's missing the most crucial part—the key to decoding it."

"I've been to the highest mountain and the deepest sea, but I've never seen anything like this."

"Freedom is an illusion they sold us to keep us compliant."

"We've been living in a lie. It's time we uncover the truth."

"Every night at midnight, the old clock shop comes alive. Haven't you ever noticed?"

"They say the forest spirits grant wishes, but only to those who ask with pure intentions."

"I found this old diary in the attic, and it’s like it’s talking directly to me."

[mzannthropy]

It's not every day that an international star turns out to be approachable and easy-going. Instead, while I'm talking to Sam Claflin, I feel like I'm chatting with a friend with whom I can discuss any topic, even astrology. "But is my star sign, Cancer, really resentful? Just like my Edmond Dantès," says the English actor. Yes, because on January 13, a blockbuster version of "The Count of Monte Cristo" will be broadcast on Rai1, a story of the most famous revenge in literature, written by Alexandre Dumas in 1844. And Claflin is the protagonist. The miniseries directed by Danish director Bille August, two-time winner of the Palme d'Or at Cannes, is just the latest in a long series of adaptations. The first short film dates back to 1908, the first film was in 1922, and sound hadn't been invented yet! Since then, there have been 12 other films, five TV series, a stage musical and even a Japanese animated series. This new international TV version, produced by Palomar with Demd Productions, Rai Fiction, France Télévisions, Mediawan Rights and Entourage Ventures, promises to do justice to the over 1,200 pages of the novel. The beginning of the story? Dantès is a sailor who on his wedding day is unjustly accused of treason and thrown into prison. After 15 years, he escapes with one goal: to take revenge on those who framed him. Claflin knows a thing or two about adaptations: he made his debut in 2010 with the miniseries “The Pillars of the Earth,” based on the novel of the same name by Ken Follett, and in 2013 he became famous in the role of Finnick Odair in the “Hunger Games” films, based on the famous literary saga.

With such a “bookish” CV, who knows what a thrill it must be to play one of the most famous characters in literature. «Actually, I confess that I only knew the title of the novel, I didn’t know anything else. But I understood that it was a big deal when I told my friends: they were more excited than me».

But it's one of the most famous books ever! "I know, I know ( laughs ). But I have to make a confession: I'm not an avid reader and, as an actor, I prefer that my first approach to a role comes from the script, without having preconceptions or judgments about the work itself."

But did he read the novel? "Of course, and I understood why it's so long: readers of the time read it in installments in the newspaper. For them it was a bit like today's TV series. In those days, people didn't travel much, so a book like "The Count of Monte Cristo", which touches on so many different places, allowed ordinary people to explore the world with their imagination, from the comfort of their homes."

Have you seen any of the adaptations that have already been made? «During filming I watched “Monte Cristo”, the 2002 film with Jim Caviezel because I was curious to find out how they managed to concentrate so many events and characters in just two hours. It seemed impossible to me, we take almost eight!».

The production actually seems impressive: how long did the shooting last? «About six months, and we traveled a lot: we started in Paris, then we went to Turin, Rome and finally to Malta».

Had you been to Italy before? "I had already visited Rome, Florence and Amalfi in the past. Turin turned out to be a hidden gem, I fell in love with its architecture. Coming back to Rome is always magical: it is a unique city, an open-air museum. It is my favorite European capital. And then there is no other: Italian cuisine is too good!"

“The Count of Monte Cristo” is an international series, with English, French, Italian and other actors. Ask us a question: did Lino Guanciale and Michele Riondino teach you how to pronounce a few sentences in Italian? «Yes. I would have liked to show off my new linguistic knowledge, but I have a terrible memory: I’ve already forgotten everything!».

So we are still waiting for him in Italy to speak our language together. In the meantime, he confides in us what were the most tiring moments on the set? "Definitely the endless make-up and hair sessions when I was filming the scenes in prison, with a beard and very long hair. Imagine that to make the wig more realistic they had to apply almost every hair individually. We started at dawn!"

The hardest day? "When we shot the opening scene, with the ship in the middle of the storm. We had a machine to create the wind and another for the rain, and on top of that the ship was rocking: the noise was so loud that we couldn't hear the director's instructions! On top of that, we shot it in winter, so it was freezing."

Edmond Dantès is a master of disguises. Do you also have some “tricks” to avoid being noticed by people on the street? «The secret is my children ( Pip and Margot, 9 and 7 years old, had by his ex-wife, the actress Laura Haddock, ed. ). I don't know why, but when I walk around with them no one recognizes me. However, when I finish shooting a film or a series, I immediately change my hairstyle to distance myself from the character. If I haven't had a beard for many months, for example, the first thing I do is let it grow back. Maybe this also helps to muddy the waters a bit».

Would you prefer to be recognized more often? "Not a chance! In recent years I've worked with fellow actors who are so targeted by paparazzi that they need bodyguards 24 hours a day. A nightmare. I think the best thing to do to not attract attention is to behave normally: if you wear sunglasses indoors, people will notice you."

You play one of the most vengeful characters in history. Are you a resentful person or do you forgive? "I would like to belong to the second category, but the truth is that I bear resentment. I am willing to give a second chance to those who have wronged me, but if they continue to behave badly I don't want to know about it anymore."

Have you ever taken small revenge? "No, I try to avoid conflicts, I never fought even as a kid ( laughs ). And then I'm lazy: taking revenge requires too much time and patience. I prefer to hope that karma punishes those who make others suffer."

What did the character of Dantès teach you? "Every role I play allows me to discover something more about myself. Edmond Dantès certainly has admirable qualities because he is methodical, loyal and full of motivation. Of course, then he is blinded by revenge, so perhaps he taught me precisely this: to never lose sight of the things that are truly important."

Dantès moves to Paris. You too have moved to a metropolis: after high school you moved to London to study acting. "I grew up in a small town 150 kilometers from London, which has always had an incredible fascination for me. When I took the big step and moved there, I understood that it was my place. I have lived there ever since and I am happy."

Let's close with a movie question: a movie that changed your life? «“Notting Hill”, the amazing 1999 comedy directed by Roger Michell with Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts. It's a perfect movie and I watch it every time I feel down. I'm an incurable romantic, it helps me believe that there's the right person for me out there».

Translated by Google Chrome. I amended Margot's age from 6 to 7 as she's just had her birthday.

[yurimother]

The 2022 Yuri Pride Guide - Yuri Light Novels

Your ultimate guide to Yuri pride with over 170 diverse titles from every genre and medium

Pride month may be over, but that does not mean the celebration has to end! With a priority on quality storytelling and positive representation, this curated list features anime, manga, light novels, games, and webcomics that showcase love and passion for Yuri.

Bloom Into You: Regarding Saeki Sayaka

• School • Drama • Romance

The light novel spin-off to the hit Yuri series Bloom Into You. Saeki Sayaka has always been an old soul–serious and reserved, preferring to focus on her studies rather than make friends. Until, that is, a romantic confession from another girl in middle school turns her carefully ordered world upside down. Though none of her classes have prepared her for this, Saeki must now come to terms with her sexuality in this gentle, coming-of-age novel about grappling with first love, growing up, and relating to other people.

~Written by Hitoma Iruma, Illustrations and Created by Nakatani Nio~ Licensed by Seven Seas Entertainment

The Executioner and Her Way of Life

• Action • Fantasy • Isekai • Enemies to Lovers

When Menou, an Executioner of deadly interdimensional “Lost Ones,” encounters a Lost One named Akari who can cheat death, she sets out on a mission to kill the unkillable girl — but her newly stirring feelings might get in the way of her blade.

~Created by Mato Sato, Illustrated by nilitsu~ Licensed by Yen Press

Girls Kingdom

• School • Romance • Comedy • Master/Servant

All Misaki wanted was a free education. Instead, she accidentally lands an exclusive contract with the most prestigious girl in school... to serve as her personal maid! Misaki soon discovers that Amanotsuka Academy for Girls is no ordinary school—her classes are all about how to be a maid, too! Students who impress the school’s elite young ladies with their domestic service skills might be lucky enough to become a “Seraph,” guaranteeing them a job with an upper-class household after they graduate.

~Created by Nayo, Illustrated by Shio Sakura~ Licensed by J-Novel Club

Girls’ Love of the Dead

• Horror • Mystery

When Mitsuki’s best friend suddenly dies, she decides to seek out the old abandoned building of their school, the Romero Private Academy for Girls. But when she meets her dear Rin again, there are quite a lot of reasons why the other girl doesn’t remember her…

~Created by Nanaoku Hoshii, Illustrated by Akiko Morishima~ Licensed by Manga Planet

Last and First Idol

• Anthology • Sci-Fi • Horror

"Bye-bye, Earth! My idol activities here were so much fun!” A wannabe idol turned reality-shattering entity, existential isekai organisms, and a space opera about murderous voice actors… Award-winning author Gengen Kusano presenting an astounding collection of three harrowing existential widescreen yuri baroque proletariat hard sci-fi idol story has carved out a new legend in science fiction history! These high-concept stories are crammed full of horrific imagery and exceptionally detailed science that will leave your mind reeling.

~Created by Gengen Kusano~ Licensed by J-Novel Club

A Lily Blooms in Another World

• Isekai • Romance • Fantasy • Enemies to Lovers

Miyako Florence isn’t sad when her fiancé breaks off their engagement after two years. It’s all according to plan! Whisked into the world of her favorite otome game, Miyako frees herself from a dull noble to pursue her true soulmate: the game’s villainess Fuuka Hamilton. Proud Fuuka only has eyes for their mutual ex-fiancé! Miyako confesses her love to Fuuka and proposes that they run away together. Fuuka agrees on one condition: Miyako must make her say “I’m happy” in 14 days. With conniving nobles, strange diseases, and magical rituals pulling them apart, can Miyako win the villainess’s heart?

~Created by Ameko Kaeruda, Illustrated by Shio Sakura~ Licensed by J-Novel Club

Lily Clairet

• School • Slice of Life

A young girl is arguing with a cherry tree. That's a new one for Lily, who's managed to reach the end of her first year at high school without too much weirdness. Unfortunately for her, it's not long after solving this odd mystery that her untroubled life begins to unravel. Discovering an abandoned room at the end of the music department corridor, she finds that aside from it being utterly run-down, it's also devoid of its sole occupant: Sonata Sonoda, the missing journalism club president.

~Created by Kaye Ng, Illustrated by Rumikuu~ Independently Published

LOVELY! My Adorable Mamecchi

• School • Romance • Friends to Lovers

Everyone may have their eyes on the charming, prince-like Hikaru, but there's only one person Hikaru's got her eyes on - her darling childhood friend Mamecchi! But between Mamecchi's hot-and-cold personality and Hikaru's subconscious denials, this sure doesn't look like a recipe for success...when a certain repeat customer gets into Mamecchi's good graces, will Hikaru finally muster up the courage to confess to her first love?

~Kumako Nanbu, Hiromi Takashima~ Licensed by Manga Planet

The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady

• Fantasy • Romance • Comedy

Despite her supposed ineptitude with regular magic, Princess Anisphia defies the aristocracy's expectations by developing "magicology," a unique magical theory based on memories from her past life. One day, she witnesses the brilliant noblewoman Euphyllia unjustly stripped of her title as the kingdom's next monarch. That's when Anisphia concocts a plan to help Euphyllia regain her good name-which somehow involves them living together and researching magic! Little do these two ladies know, however, that their chance encounter will alter not only their own futures, but those of the kingdom...and the entire world!

~Created by Piero Karasu, Illusrated by Yuri Kisaragi~ Licensed by Yen Press

Pianissimo of the Lips: Angels After School

• School • Romance • Drama

Rina Shiina’s life was suddenly ripped apart and, as a result, has to repeat a year, making her infamous among her classmates. Always alone, Shiina finds refuge at the emergency stairs where she shares her lunch with an injured kitten. When an old-fashioned nerdy-looking girl with thick glasses comes to care for the injured stray, Shiina invites her to share the space. Shiina and Glasses Girl -Kurumi Kamiya- become more and more comfortable in each other’s companies.

~Created by Kumako Nambu, Illusrated by Yuu Keijima~ Licensed by Manga Planet

ROLL OVER AND DIE: I Will Fight for an Ordinary Life with My Love and Cursed Sword!

• Fantasy • Action • Horror • Master/Servant • Slow Burn

Flum Apricot was never meant to be a hero. Despite zero stats across the board and a power she can’t even use, she somehow finds herself included in a party of heroes. But Flum’s life hits rock bottom when the party’s renowned sage, Jean Inteige, decides that the useless girl is dead weight, and arranges to have her sold into slavery. Tossed to monsters to be feasted upon for her master’s entertainment, Flum makes the desperate choice to reach for a cursed weapon…and something new awakens within her. A grimdark tale about one woman’s blood-soaked quest to reclaim her life!

~Created by kiki, Illustrated by kinta~ Licensed by Seven Seas Entertainment

Sasayaki no Kiss -Read my lips.-

• School • Romance • Drama

Haruka has always lived in a soundless world. But not in her dreams, where she can hear her own voice - and the voice of the only other person in the dream with her, a beautiful high school student wearing an adorable, unfamiliar school uniform. Haruka knows this is just a dream, but why does a part of her think it's more than that? Is this girl she finds falling asleep in the park really the literal girl of her dreams?

~Created by Kumako Nambu, Illustrated by Akiko Morishima~ Licensed by Manga Planet

Seriously Seeking Sister! Ultimate Vampire Princess Just Wants Little Sister

• Comedy • Fantasy • Yuri Harem

Long ago, on the continent of Ephenia, there existed the feared tribe of vampires called “True Bloods,” whose great strength allowed them to reign supreme over all other tribes. However, a millennium has passed, and any trace of them has vanished off the face of the planet. That is, until the youngest and most talented royal daughter of the True Bloods awakens in the modern day.

~Created by Hiironoame, Illustrated by Siso~ Licensed by J-Novel Club

Sexiled: My Sexist Party Leader Kicked Me Out, So I Teamed Up With a Mythical Sorceress!

• Fantasy • Comedy • Action

Tanya Artemiciov is a talented Mage-class adventurer who just got kicked out of her party by a sexist scumbag. So what's a girl to do? Go to the wasteland and blow stuff up of course! One small problem though: she inadvertently frees a mythical Sorceress named Laplace who was sealed away for the past 300 years… Surprise! Turns out this so-called "wicked" Sorceress is actually pretty cool. Laplace wants to start a party of her own, Tanya wants revenge, and the solution is obvious: team up. It's time to kick ass, kiss girls, and dismantle the patriarchy!

~Created by Ameko Kaeruda, Illustrated by Kazutomo Miya~ Licensed by J-Novel Club

Side-By-Side Dreamers

• Sci-Fi • Supernatural • Action • Fated Lovers • Love at First Sight

Unbeknownst to the common citizens, a battle has been unfolding between the Suiju, beings that possess people's spirits in the land of sleep, and the Sleepwalkers, who have the power to move about freely in their dreams. Saya Hokage, a high school girl who is unable to sleep due to insomnia, encounters Hitsuji Konparu, a girl who can put anyone to sleep as a “lover” in a dream. When Hitsuji's senpai sees potential in Saya, she ends up joining them and their group of Sleepwalkers on their mission.

~Created by Iori Miyazawa~ Licensed by J-Novel Club

Two Guns Under the Sheet

• Action • Drama • Enemies to Lovers • Shakaijin • Love at First Sight

All Aya wanted was a one-night stand that could take her mind off her lost love, but with Sakura, she may have finally gotten more than a one-night stand - she may have finally found "The One"! But before she rushes into imagining their future together, there's one uncomfortable question Aya has to face first - could it be possible that her beautiful new love is somehow related to the same organization she's bound by duty to destroy?

~Created by Kumako Nambu, Illustrated by Akiko Morishima~ Licensed by Manga Planet

Yuri Will Not Blossom at Work!

• Shakaijin • Drama • Romance • Enemies to Lovers

Just as Rikka thinks the matchmaking event she grudgingly signed up for can’t get any more dreadful, she runs into her colleague-slash-rival Yuri Kisugi. Using Rikka’s embarrassment as leverage, Yuri compels Rikka into helping her find the perfect candidate to marry. Rikka goes along with Yuri’s antics with the hopes it will lead her rival away while she climbs up the company ranks. But what happens when Rikka’s nurturing tendencies coincide with Yuri’s secret vulnerabilities?…

~Created by Mai Yanagawa, Illustrated by Ruri Hazuki~ Licensed by Manga Planet

Yurizen! Salon -Shirayuri’s Comforting Food Therapy-

• Shakaijin • Romance • Slow Burn

(Guest submission by Frank Hecker) Was it fate that led to Miiko meeting Doctor Shirayuri that one rainy day…or was it just her cramps? Pâtissier Miiko works through little pains like the rest of us, but when her ailments begin to affect her work, there’s got to be something she can do about it. Enter beautiful, mysterious herbal medicine doctor Shirayuri, who might be the solution to Miiko’s problems – in more ways than one!

~Created by Kumako Nambu, Illustrated by Miso Higashikawa~ Licensed by Manga Planet

Read More 2022 Yuri Pride Guide

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[toscrollperchancetomeme]

Lestat de Lioncourt - A playlist

So, guess who made a Lestat Playlist (like there aren't enough already) and decided to sit down for 4-6 hours to find some excerpt corresponding with each song? Featuring 80s and 90s music (clearly showing my age...) as well as many european songs and showtunes. Enjoy!

1. Cathedrals – Ramin Karimloo (Original by Jump, Little Children)

In the cathedrals of New York and Rome There is a feeling that you should just go home And spend the lifetime finding out just where that is

And that was not a good year for me. I was wandering aimlessly. I was sick of things. I was furious with myself that the „beauty“ of life wasn't sustaining me, wasn't making my loneliness bearable.

I wanted to join them. Always do want to join them and never do. „Go home,“ he whispered. - Prince Lestat

(I actually feel like there are quotes that would correspond to this song in every one of the books and indeed have not yet found any other song that captures the general spirit of The Vampire Chronicles as perfectly.)

2. Edge of Seventeen – Stevie Nicks

Well, I went today Maybe I will go again tomorrow Yeah yeah, well, the music there Well, it was hauntingly familiar Well, I see you doing what I try to do for me With the words from a poet and a voice from a choir And a melody, and nothing else mattered

He sat next to me, hugging me and asking me why I was crying, and though I couldn't tell him, I could see that he was overwhelmed that his music had produced this effect. There was no sarcasm or bitterness in him now. I think he carried me home that night. And the next morning I was standing in the crooked stone street in front of his father's shop, tossing pebbles up at his window. When he stuck his head out, I said: „Do you want to come down and go on with our conversation?“ - The Vampire Lestat

3. I ain't scared of lightning – Tom McRae

No I ain't scared of lightning And thunder never killed I was born in a summer storm and I live there still

I wasn't part of the world that cringed at such things. And with a smile, I realized that I was of that dark ilk that makes others cringe. Slowly and with great pleasure, I laughed.

And the labor that brought it forth was rapture such as I have never known. - The Vampire Lestat

4. Junge Roemer – Falco (Young Romans – Full Translation)

Don't ask for new old values See white light, see only feeling The night is ours till morning We play every game Don't ever let this journey end The doing comes only from the being Only from dimensions, that Are worth illusions and sensations Give me more, give me more, give me more...

... and again she laughed. „Ah, but we are splendid devils, aren't we?“ „Hunters of the Savage Garden,“ I said. „Then let's go into Paris,“ she said. - The Vampire Lestat

5. Running up that hill – Candy Says (Original by Kate Bush

If I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, Be running up that building,

„Not even with Nicolas?“ „No, god, no!“ I looked at her. She nodded slightly as if she approved of this answer. „Why not with Nicolas?“ she asked. I wanted this to stop. „Because he's young,“ I said, „and he has life before him.“ - The Vampire Lestat

6. Florence – Notre Dame de Paris (Full Translation)

The little things always triumph over the large And literature will kill architecture The school books will kill the cathedrals The Bible will kill the Church, and man will kill God This will kill that

„I never lived in it. I push against the glass. But how do I get in?“ „I can't tell you that,“ I said. „You have to study this age,“ Gabrielle interrupted. Her voice was calm but commanding. He looked towards her as she spoke. „You have to understand the age,“ she continued, „through its literature and its music and its art. You have come up out of the earth, as you yourself put it. Now live in the world.“ No answer from him. Flash of Nicki's ravaged flat with all its books on the floor. Western civilization in heaps. - The Vampire Lestat

7. Go your own way – Fleetwood Mac

Loving you isn't the right thing to do How can I ever change things that I feel

If I could maybe I'd give you my world How can I when you won't take it from me

You can go your own way You can call it another lonely day

„Keep your promise,“ she said. And quite suddenly I knew this was our last moment. I knew it and I could do nothing to change it. „Gabrielle!“ I whispered. But she was already gone. - The Vampire Lestat

8. Désenchantée – Olympe (Original by Myléne Farmer - Full Translation)

If death is a mystery Life isn't exactly tender If heaven has a hell Then heaven can still wait for me Tell me how to handle this headwind Nothing makes sense anymore, nothing's fine

Laughter. That insane music. That din, that dissonance, that never ending shrill articulation of the meaninglessness... Am I awake? Am I asleep? I am sure of one thing. I am a monster. And because I lie in torment in the earth, certain human beings move on through the narrow pass of life unmolested. - The Vampire Lestat

9. A kind of magic – Queen

The bell that rings inside your mind Is challenging the doors of time It's a kind of magic The waiting seems eternity The day will dawn of sanity

And quite completely I understood that it was looking for me, this sound, it was seeking me out.

Blood like light itself, liquid fire.

It seemed beneath the roar of the flow he spoke. He said again: „Drink, my young one, my wounded one.“ I felt his heart swell, his body undulate, and we were sealed against each other. I think I heard myself say: „Marius.“ And he answered: „Yes.“ - The Vampire Lestat

10. La quête – Bruno Pelletier (French version of „The Impossible Dream“ from Man of La Mancha)

To try when your arms are too weary To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest To follow that star Ooh, no matter how hopeless No matter how far

I would remain in New Orleans if New Orleans could only manage to remain. Whatever I suffered should be lessened in this lawless place, whatever I craved should give me more pleasure once I had it in my grasp. And there were moments on that first night in this fetid little paradise when I prayed that in spite of all my secret power, I was somehow kin to every mortal man. - The Vampire Lestat

11. Wicked Game – Chris Isaak

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

Yet Louis gained a hold over me far more powerful than Nicolas had ever had. Even in his cruelest moments, Louis touched the tenderness in me, seducing me with his staggering dependence, his infatuation with my every gesture and every spoken word. - The Vampire Lestat

12. Do I disappoint you – Rufus Wainwright

Do I disappoint you, in just being human? And not one of the elements that you can light your cigar on Why does it always have to be fire? Why does it always have to be brimstone?

„And suppose the vampire who made you knew nothing, and the vampire before him knew nothing, and so it goes back and back, nothing proceeding from nothing, until there is nothing! And we must live with the knowledge that there is no knowledge!“ „Yes!“ he cried out suddenly, his hands out, his voice tinged with something other than anger.

And then I sensed it. He was afraid. Lestat afraid. - Interview with the Vampire

13. Ordinary World – Duran Duran

What has happened to it all? Crazy, some'd say Where is the life that I recognize? Gone away

But I won't cry for yesterday There's an ordinary world Somehow I have to find And as I try to make my way To the ordinary world I will learn to survive

I do not remember when it became the twentieth century, only that everything was uglier and darker, and the beauty I'd known in the old eighteenth-century days seemed more than ever some kind of fanciful idea. - The Vampire Lestat

14. I'm still standing – Taron Egerton (Original by Elton John)

And there's a cold lonely light that shines from you You'll wind up like the wreck you hide behind that mask you use And did you think this fool could never win? Well look at me, I'm coming back again

But after the third night up, I was roaring around New Orleans on a big black Harley-Davidson motorcycle making plenty of noise myself. […] I was the vampire Lestat again. I was back in action. New Orleans was once again my hunting ground. - The Vampire Lestat

15. Catch my fall – Billy Idol

I have the time so I will sing, yeah I'm just a boy but I will win, yeah Lost song of lovers, fellow travelers, yeah Leave me sad and hollow out of words

It could happen to you so think for yourself If I should stumble, catch my fall, yeah

I've survived, obviously. I wouldn't be talking to you if I hadn't. And the cosmic dust has finally settled; and the small rift in the world's fabric of rational beliefs has been mended, or at least closed. I'm a little sadder for all of it, and a little meaner and a little more conscientious as well. - The Queen of the Damned

16. I want it all – Queen

I'm a man with a one track mind So much to do in one lifetime (people do you hear me) Not a man for compromise and where's and why's and living lies So I'm living it all, yes I'm living it all And I'm giving it all, and I'm giving it all

It is not enough any longer that my little rock band be successful. We must create a fame that will carry my name and my voice to the remotest parts of the world. - The Vampire Lestat

17. Let me entertain you – Robbie Williams

Hell is gone and heaven's here There's nothing left for you to fear Shake your arse come over here Now scream

I'm a burning effigy Of everything I used to be You're my rock of empathy, my dear

So come on let me entertain you

"I AM THE VAMPIRE LESTAT!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as I stepped way back from the microphone, and the sound was almost visible as it arched over the length of the oval theater, and the voice of the crowd rose even higher, louder, as if to devour the ringing sound. - The Vampire Lestat

18. La bien qui fait mal – Mozart l'Opera Rock (Full translation)

I can feel a violent urge I feel like I'm sliding towards the ground If I don't find out where this plague is coming from I adore having it under my skin Bewitched by mad ideas Suddenly all my cravings take off The desire becomes my prison Until I loose my mind

Yet I was in her arms in this chilling darkness, in the familiar scent of winter, and her blood was mine again, and it was enslaving me. When she drew away, I felt agony. - The Queen of the Damned

19. Tainted Love – Soft Cell

And you think love is to pray But I'm sorry I don't pray that way Once I ran to you Now I'll run from you This tainted love you've given I give you all a boy could give you Take my tears and that's not living, oh

„What do you think I am that I am so easily swayed? I was born a Queen. I have always ruled; even from the shrine I ruled." Her eyes were glazed suddenly. I heard the voices, a dull hum rising. "I ruled if only in legend; if only in the minds of those who came to me and paid me tribute. Princes who played music for me; who brought me offerings and prayers. What do you want of me now? That for you, I renounce my throne, my destiny!" What answer could I make? - The Queen of the Damned

20. Dancing in the Dark – Ruth Moody (Original by Bruce Springsteen)

They say you gotta stay hungry Hey baby, I'm just about starvin' tonight I'm dyin' for some action I'm sick of sittin' 'round here tryin' to write this book I need a love reaction Come on now, baby, gimme just one look

"I want you to put the book aside and come join us," he said. "You've been locked in here for over a month." "I go out now and then," I said. I liked looking at him, at the neon blue of his eyes.

"Do you love me now?" I asked. He smiled; oh, it was excruciating to see his face soften and brighten simultaneously when he smiled. "Yes," he said. "Want to go on a little adventure?" My heart was thudding suddenly. It would be so grand if- "Want to break the new rules?" "What in the world do you mean?" he whispered. - The Queen of the Damned

21. I want you – Savage Garden

Oh, I want you, I don't know if I need you But oh, I would die to find out

"You don't think you'll be back?" he asked. "I think you will, whether I call or not." Another little surprise. A little stab of humiliation. I smiled at him in spite of myself. He was a very interesting man. "You silver-tongued British bastard," I said. "How dare you say that to me with such condescension? Maybe I should kill you right now."

I thought of David Talbot's face, and that moment when he'd challenged me. Well, maybe he was right. I'd be back. Who said I couldn't come back and talk to him if I wanted to? - The Queen of the Damned

22. Lay your hands on me – Bon Jovi

I'm a fighter, I'm a poet, I'm a preacher I've been to school, oh baby, I've been the teacher If you show me how to get up off the ground I can show you how to fly and never ever come back down

I sat down on the bed beside him. And then I bent down and kissed his face again gently, as I had in New Orleans, liking the feel of his roughly shaven beard, just as I liked that sort of thing when I was really Lestat and I would soon have that strong masculine blood inside. I moved closer to him, when suddenly he grasped my hand, and I felt him gently push me away. „Why, David?“ I asked him. He didn't answer. He lifted his right hand and brushed my hair back out of my eyes. „I don't know,“ he whispered. „I can't. I simply can't.“ - The Tale of the Body Thief

23. 20th Century Boy – Placebo (Original by T-Rex)

I move like a cat, charge like a ram Sting like a bee, babe, I wanna be your man, hey!

He drew back with a speed that astonished me, cleaving to the wall. „Don't do this, Lestat.“ „Don't fight me, old friend. You waste your effort. You have a long night of discovery ahead.“ - The Tale of the Body Thief

24. Way down we go – KALEO

Oh, Father tell me, do we get what we deserve? Whoa, we get what we deserve And way down we go

„In chains, to my friend and my scribe, I dictated these words. Come with me. Just listen to me. Don't leave me alone.“ - Memnoch the Devil

25. Personal Jesus – Depeche Mode

Reach out, touch faith

"Don't tell me," Gabrielle said slurringly, "that it's a matter of faith." She sneered and shook her head. "You come like doubting Thomas to thrust your bloody fangs in the very wound." "Oh, stop, please, I beg you," I whispered. I put up my hands. "Let me try, and let him hurt me, and then be satisfied, and turn away." - The Vampire Armand

26. Papillon – Editors

Darling Just don't put down your guns yet If there really was a God here He'd have raised a hand by now Now darling You're born, get old, then die here Well that's quite enough for me We'll find our own way home somehow

"And if I spill my blood down into this coffin now," Lestat asked her, "what do you think will come back? Do you think it will be our Louis that will rise in these burnt rags? What if it's not, chérie, what if it's some wounded revenant that we must destroy?" "Choose life, Lestat," she said. - Merrick

27. Sunday Light – Choir Boy

Why, why, why, are you silent on the ride home? I'd love to see the temple with you Heavenly and bright, golden angel twisted scathing You were one of us, one of us, one of us, you were one of us

"Then come, Little Brother, take me to where you want to talk," he said, and I felt the soft squeeze of his fingers on my arm. "Why are you so kind to me?" I asked him. "You're used to people being paid to do it, aren't you?" he asked. - Blackwood Farm

28. Für mich solls rote Rosen regnen – Hildegard Knef (It should rain red roses for me - Full translation)

It should rain red roses for me All wonders should encounter me The world should rearrange itself And keep its worries to itself

I want to be a saint. I want to save souls by the millions. I want to do good far and wide. I want to fight evil! I want my life-sized statue in every church. I'm talking six feet tall, blond hair, blue eyes- Wait a second. Do you know who I am? - Blood Canticle

29. Constant Craving – K. D. Lang

Even through the darkest phase Be it thick or thin Always someone marches brave Here beneath my skin And constant craving Has always been

I was hunting, thirsting though I didn't need to drink, at the mercy of the craving, the deep agonizing lust for heated pumping human blood. - Prince Lestat

30. Kalte Sterne – Jan Ammann (Cold Stars from the musical Ludwig² - Full translation)

Get up, ride home, on your horse, through your land Across the morning with your reins trailing behind you Build a castle like a dream, build it with mighty hands And it shall be named „future“

Build a castle like a dream Up from the ashes and close to the heavens Build a castle like a dream And realise the future as king

If we wanted to survive, if we wanted to inherit the millenia […] then we had to meet the future with respect as well as courage and count fear and selfishness to be small things. - Prince Lestat and the realms of Atlantis

31. C'est une belle journée – Mylene Farmer (Full translation)

I'm going to bed To bite eternity With my mouth wide open It's a beautiful day

And I felt the cold numbing shell of alienation and despair which had imprisoned me all of my life among the Undead – I felt that shell cracked, broken, and dissolved utterly into infinitesimal fragments. - Blood Communion

32. Princes of the Universe – Queen

Fly the moon and reach for the stars With my sword and head held high Got to pass the test first time, yeah I know that people talk about me, I hear it every day But I can prove them wrong 'cause I'm right first time

„I know that you meant full well to bring Rhoshamandes down, of course you did. But you had no way of knowing that you could. And no one would have predicted that you could. And with the willingness to die, you gave yourself over into his hands... and you disarmed him and destroyed him.“ – Blood Communion

And finally, because I can, a bonus track:

33. Primadonna – MARINA

And I'm sad to the core, core, core Every day is a chore, chore, chore When you give, I want more, more, more I wanna be adored

[shintorikhazumi]

(Dianakko Week) There’s no way she- (3): “There’s no way she tamed that.”

@dianakko-week​

A/N: Okay! So I’m really sorry if day 2 confused y’all ;-;. I just couldn’t reveal as much info to be clear as I thought ;-; I dunno if this chapter will do any good of explaining, but here’s to hoping  that it does! T-T Also apologies if the whole story goes south or off the rails since I’m really running on fumes this week and am at peak exhaustion capacity woo! So these chapters/days might just be getting weird and incoherent idk. Sorry. This is kind of like... going back and forth between days 2-4 in terms of theme, I think. But well. uh... Idk anymore.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

Day 3: Familiars/Animals

“There’s no way she tamed that.”

“I’m just glad you’ve all settled in just fine.”

“Honestly? Same.” Barbara sighed, looking into the orb that showed Lotte and Sucy’s faces. “I guess it’s just that we’ve been here for a few months- two? Three? It’s a good start.”

“How’s her majesty holding up?” Sucy asked teasingly, but with concern clear in her visible eye.

Barbara bit her lip, not really sure of the answer herself. “She never showed me or Han, but I know that she’s cried to Akko-with Akko” Barbara shook her head fondly, recalling their sweet dork. “-when we all went to bed. It went on for a few weeks. Right now, she’s... she’s holding up. She’s tough, we all know.”

“Yes. You all are.” Lotte said with a smile that quickly melted away into a deep frown. “I can’t believe they burned down the mansion.”

“I can’t believe they were able to get through Diana’s cloaking spell.” Sucy commented. “Something isn’t right, but no one can pinpoint just what it is yet.” She said, swirling an ominous-looking fluid in one of her flasks.

Barbara nodded. “Well, anyway, I’ll get back to you later. I’m on dinner duty and the sun has been sending me warnings.” She chuckled, noticing the changing hues of the horizon. “Talk to you again sometime?”

“We’ll update you on the situation.” Lotte assured, waving to her friend before the connection cut and the orb turned blank.

Barbara sighed, standing up from the table to return the orb on their shelf in the living room of the cozy stone cottage they had settled in, deep in a forest of some unknown country far away from home.

It was a new world with so many unknowns. Maybe too many. Including why Diana and Akko had been targeted this way. Diana had told them that she’d been stripped of her position on the magic council, and had been ‘warned’ that she would someday suffer the consequences of not complying with the other members. So far, that was all they knew. They just found that Diana had a hunch that they needed to leave soon. They were so glad they did.

Barbara began prepping in the kitchen, getting all her ingredients from the fridge that she’d need for the dish she wanted to cook. Suddenly, a chorus of yells from her two teammates caught her attention, telling her that they were close to home, along with their other friend whose name was pronounced loud on their lips-

“AKKO?!”

//

“What?” Akko shrugged, clearly not getting why this was such a big deal. Florence was one of her sweetest familiars!

“No, no, no. Not ‘what?’, Akko... how... why? Who? Where did you even-” Hannah stammered. “There’s no way she tamed that. Right, Diana?” She turned to their team leader, still staring up at the very real, and very large griffin.

“Akko... how did you even... you say this is your familiar??? A gryphon of this size? We all know that contracting familiars are difficult, but you just-”

She and Hannah watched as Akko continued to play with the somehow puppy-like griffin, Akko rubbing it’s belly as it rolled on the grass in front of their home.

“Diana.” Akko deadpanned. “You literally kept a Kelpie at home.” She saw Diana open her mouth about to deny the statement, and cut her off. “Don’t lie. I saw you feeding it by the lake the other day.”

“Well...”

“I watched you train it the other day.”

“I-”

“I’ve also seen it playing in the fountain in the yard back at home-” As that word slipped, Akko realized her mistake, seeing Hannah giving her a disproving look as Diana’s face looked momentarily downcast, before masking it with a smile.

“Diana-” Akko tried to reach out, but her girlfriend had taken a careful step back, leaving a pang in Akko’s heart. “I’m sor-”

“I’ve been caught red-handed, I suppose.” Diana laughed mirthlessly, a hand rubbing up and down her opposite arm as she looked off into the distance. “Oh look at that! The sun is setting. We should go inside.” She quickly changed the topic, being the first one to turn around and head for their house, not waiting for her companions to follow.

Hannah groaned, smacking the back of Akko’s head. “Nice going, Akko.”

“Hey!”

“Make sure to hide that familiar somewhere and wash your hands before dinner! Barbara’s going to have your head the next time you touch her table with those filthy hands.” She warned before disappearing into the cottage after Diana.

“I already know that. You don’t have to tell me.” Akko scoffed, crossing her arms before getting nuzzled by her Griffin, a cute confused look on his face. She smiled, petting it’s side before doing what Hannah had told her to do. “Come on, Florence. Let’s get you back in with the others?”

Reaching into her shirt, Akko pulled out a locket, casting a spell on it that made it larger, revealing a briefcase that looked like any other. However, as she turned the dials of it’s lock code, multiple sounds spring forth from it as the case shook.

Florence nuzzled against her back, whining about her actions. Akko got the message. “Sorry, buddy. I know it’s been a while since I let you out free, but I don’t have anywhere better to keep you all yet. Hang on just a bit more? For me?” She rubbed the Griffin’s head before holding the briefcase closer to him and Florence disappeared into the container. “Thank you.” She patted the lid.

After closing it securely, she spun the numbers to form a different code that brought about silence before shrinking it back into the size that she kept around her neck.

“I hope they waited for me for dinner.”

//

“Are you alright?”

Diana looked up from her seat on the small porch, gaze warming as she was met by the sight of her old friend with two mugs in hand, steaming and warm. She simply nodded, patting the seat next to her.

Hannah nodded, settling down next to Diana and handing her her drink. Before Diana could even greet and thank her, a thick blanket was draped across her shoulders from her other side. Barbara promptly took seat on that free space, leaning her weight against Diana and closing her eyes.

“Girls...”

“You can trust us with your pain as much as you do with Akko, you know?” Hannah murmured, Barbara nodding against Diana’s side.

“...I know.” Biting her lip, Diana tried her best to form the appropriate words. Seconds slipped by and she continued failing at being open to her best friends. “I’m sorry. It’s still a little difficult.” She felt the pair sigh on each side of her, and felt a little bad.

“We suppose that one is on us for constantly placing you up on a pedestal. Both then and now.” Barbara chuckled, the statement supposedly lighthearted despite all three knowing it was the heavy truth. “Just know that when you’re ready, we will always be willing to listen, yes?” She turned her body around, enough to embrace Diana, Hannah mirroring the action as they both squeezed her tight.

Diana squeaked as they planted a kiss on each side of her face before laughing at how bashful she was being.

“Well, that’s all from us. We’ll be heading in now.”

Diana had wanted a few more minutes of time with them, but as she followed them with her eyes, she saw someone else waiting by the door.

“Fix this.” She heard Hannah whisper to the dejected-looking Akko, loud enough for all of them to hear. Barbara giggled as she entered the house first, and Diana found her own chuckles slipping out as Akko grumbled her way towards Diana until she stood face to face with her.

“...”

“...”

“Hi.”

“Hello, dear.”

Diana felt her heart ache in a bittersweet way as she saw tears form in Akko’s eyes, and the girl kneeled in front of her, relocating Diana’s mug of hot chocolate somewhere safe on the wooden porch before taking both of her hands in hers and kissing each knuckle.

“I love you...” She whispered, holding Diana’s hands to her forehead as Akko bowed her head to hide her face from her. “And I’m sorry...”

“Darling...” Diana sighed with a smile. “Come here.”

Diana watched Akko briefly hesitate before gingerly snaking her arms round about Diana, snuggling into her fully.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. You didn’t mean to hurt me or anything.”

“But I did.” Akko sniffled, remembering that Diana had entrusted her sorrows and fears to her for nights and nights since they lost their old home, and how carelessly Akko had mentioned it while Diana was still touchy about the subject. “So I’m still sorry.”

Diana turned her head slightly to the side, enough to place a tender kiss on Akko’s cheek, “Then, Thank you. Thank you for apologizing, Love.”

“Mmm.”

They stayed that a way a few moments before Akko pulled away, a big grin plastered over her face.

“I have something to show you. Just to make it up to you.” She’d said, turning to the sky with lips pursed to release a unique whistling sound that Diana was not so familiar with.

She decided to face where Akko had been directing her attention, squinting at the night sky dotted with stars she knew all too well. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, so what was Akko trying to do-

There was a flash of gold and of a passionate color. It wasn’t lightning, Diana knew; neither was it the twinkling of the stars overhead.  So what exactly...

Then it came closer, perching on Akko’s arm that she had left outstretched.

Diana’s mouth gaped, a surprise much similar to what she had experienced earlier today, returning.

“Akko, this is a...”

Akko scratched the back of her head sheepishly, smiling adorably awkward as she attempted to ‘introduce’ them. “Alfred, this is Diana. Diana, this is Alfred.”

Diana nodded at the creature that stared at her with it’s bright beady eyes. Literally bright, it was in its entirety.

“He’s a baby phoenix.”

Diana nodded solemnly, still in awe. Of both the creature and Akko who was currently petting it with a magically protected hand.

Diana knew that Akko always had a strange affinity for communicating with animals. Even back in her years as ‘Luna Nova’s Dunce’- or so many had labeled her as (Diana was forever mad at that fact)- Akko had already shown her uncanny ability to empathize with non-human beings. She so easily befriended fae, was able to get along with both of Chariot’s own familiars: Alcor and Arcas of all creatures. There was also the fact that she had learned fish language in her own unconventional way and had become increasingly fluent in it and other magical creature languages over the next few years.

Now that she really about it, she realized that she usually saw Akko tending to the magical animals used by the security sector of the council, or doing work related to that. She had at first seen it as them pushing all the mucky work onto her like cleaning stables for pegasi, or feeding the more exotic research birds.

Seeing Akko right now, she felt like it should explain a whole lot more than she thought she knew about her. It made Diana feel slightly ashamed and insecure that she had yet to uncover this fact about her own lover that she had been with for so long now.

Diana shook her head to rid herself of those thoughts. This wasn’t the time to doubt their relationship with one another.

In this new light she was now viewing Akko in, Diana now suspected one of the reasons why the council desperately tried to keep Akko from quitting back then despite not making much use of her at her actual supposed job. They had probably realized all too quickly, and for reasons Diana doubted were good.

But did Akko know this? Was she aware?

Diana fiddled with her hands. Maybe she should ask.

“Akko?” She tugged on the girl’s shirt sleeve.

“Hmm?”  

Diana took a breath. “I know... that one of the reasons you left your old duties behind was because you didn’t really love the job at the council... and all that.” She watched Akko nod slowly, hands stilling from caressing Alfred.

“Go on?”

“But I can’t help but think now that there’s another reason... you know, something more?” Diana looked at her dearest friend and lover with hopeful eyes, wondering if she’d tell her something she didn’t know. Something that wasn’t in the written letters Akko’s various familiars had brought to her during the moments they were apart, something that she couldn’t have observed despite having worked in generally the same establishment because they had been firmly kept apart.

Why did it suddenly feel like Diana... didn’t know a lot about Akko?

She felt a pang in her heart, only supplemented by the silence that Akko had met her with.

“Sorry.” She quickly said. “Maybe it wasn’t right of me to ask.” She was about to get up when Akko stopped her, a hand holding onto Diana’s, silently bidding her to stay.

Diana sat back down and Akko rested her head on her shoulder, rubbing patterns on Diana’s hand with her thumb as she began to speak.

“Diana, did you know? That magical creatures have so much more magical energy stored in their bodies than any other living things? So much so that a magical sparrow could probably power Luna Nova for almost a week, maybe.” Akko chuckled and Diana smiled at the lovely sound.

Nodding, she responded. “Well, I knew something of that nature, yes. Did Pisces teach you that? Chariot?” She asked, squeezing Akko’s hand gently in hers.

“Partially... but...” Akko sighed. “I also found it out myself.”

Diana nodded, not wanting to interrupt anything.

“You know me so well Diana, so I’m sure that you’ve noticed by now that I have...” Akko paused, in thought of how she should word it. “Quite a few? Familiars?”

Diana snorted, bringing their joined hands up to her lips and kissing the back of Akko’s hand. “A lot, dear. A whole lot.”

Akko giggled alongside her before calming and adopting a more serious look. Diana lent her ears once more, preparing herself for what was to come.

“It started when they discovered I could easily befriend them. The magical beasts and creatures.” Akko frowned, surely remembering things she did not want to. “They sent me out to catch, acquire, and well tame magical beasts. Pfft-Like I could do that.”

Diana was about to argue that Akko could- as could clearly be observed, but was beaten to the punch.

“It was much easier than I believed it should be.” She admitted. “At first, I had no clue what they needed it for. I assumed more research on animals, extending our knowledge, and all that good stuff, you know?” Akko huffed, lifting her other hand up to guide her little phoenix into flight so that it would return to where it came from.

Diana guessed it was because Akko didn’t want it understanding what she was about to reveal next.

“Of course, I had felt bad about intruding into their habitats and taking one of their kind, but I had hoped that after whatever observations the council and researchers had, I could just return them to their families and homes.”

Diana felt Akko’s grip tightening around her hand, breathing shallowing.

“Then one day, I saw these beautiful, beautiful creatures in one of the outer courtyards...” Akko squeezed her eyes shut, painfully recalling the memory of what she saw that day.  “They killed them, Diana. Killed them in order to power some device that I have no clue about. I saw it in passing when I accompanied the secretary around before I was shut out.” Akko confessed.

Diana leaned her head on Akko’s, mind flying to places she had tried forgetting about because of the pain they caused her as she tried to make sense of what Akko knew, and what she had also found out.

“That’s when I decided to quit and go to the places I believed more beasts resided in...  especially the more endangered and possibly more powerful ones from what I had looked into, and what Chariot and Pisces had told me. I thought that maybe I could keep them safe that way. I’m sure the council had someone replace me in my... ‘work’.”

Akko allowed herself to fall over and lay herself on Diana’s lap, turning around to bury her face in the woman’s stomach.

Diana felt arms wrap around her waist, and she brought her hands atop Akko’s head to comb through silky chocolate strands. She felt the tension in Akko’s body release, before hearing another quiet, “I’m sorry”.

Diana would have asked what for, but they both already knew that.

“I just couldn’t tell you at that time. Not when you were also trying your best to establish your position in that very same council. I thought it would put you at risk of losing your job... or worse.”

Diana could just hear her choke up on that word, having now been acquainted with the ‘worse’ bit.

“So I decided to distance myself for a bit. I’m sorry, Diana. I’m sorry.” Akko murmured against her stomach. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Diana could feel a wet patch growing on her stomach. She continued to gently run her fingers through Akko’s hair in hopes of soothing her lover and reassuring her that it was all alright. That she understood. That she was grateful that Akko did it to protect her.

“I just wish I had told you back then, now that all of this happened. It’s still very much my fault, isn’t it?” Akko sniffled, turning away to wipe her nose on her sleeve. “Aaagghh, I really am sorry. To you, to Hannah and Barbara, and to everyone else.” Akko tried to slow her breathing in order to stop crying as she looked straight up at the night sky. “This is all my fault.”

Her view of the starry sky was obstructed, but replaced with the blues of a summery morning, even though it was the dead of night.

She was entranced, just like she’d always been since a long time ago.

Akko felt her eyelids flutter shut as Diana leaned down, closer, closer, and closer...

Thwack-

“Ouch!”

Akko’s eyes shot open as she was met with a stern Diana.

“Don’t just take all the blame like that and treat this whole thing as your decision solely. We all came here on our own accord. Hannah, Barbara, and I. Actually, didn’t we drag you hear in the first place?” Diana scolded a thoroughly shocked Akko.

“Y-yes.”

Diana’s expression relaxed as she chuckled, finally giving Akko the kiss she’d been expecting. “That’s why, my love, please. Continue to trust us.”

Diana could swear she could read a million I love you’s written all over Akko’s face. The sweetheart.

“Besides. I have things I need to discuss with you all as well. And I think- no. I know that it is connected with what you’ve just told me tonight.”

Diana nudged Akko up, guiding them both back on their feet.

“But for now, can we finally get some shut-eye?” She looked at Akko with a pleading face that the latter dared not say no to.

“Definitely.”

Diana squealed as she was hoisted up into strong arms and carried into the house, across their small living room and into their shared bedroom, careful not to make as much noise when they passed by their friends’.

As Akko lay Diana down on the soft sheets, she peppered kisses about her face, the pair giggling and whispering until they were all out of mirth.

Tomorrow was another day, and it might just be another frightful one.

But well, they had each other and it didn’t matter as much anymore.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Snuggled beneath the covers, to the soft cooing of the breezes of the forest, they began to drift to slumber-

“Oh, that’s right, Love.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you mind showing me your other animals?”

“Not at all, dear.”

“Great.”

“Any reason why?”

“I just want to see Hannah’s shocked face again if we ever find something like a manticore or minotaur with you, haha.”

“...”

“I’m jesting, Love- Akko... why are you wearing that expression? Akko... no way... No. Really?!”

“...You see...”

“There’s no way you tamed that!”

A/N: If you’ve seen fantastic beasts- I just loved the suitcase concept. Also I dunno, I thought of the whistling thing and wondered if it was an actual summoning technique and found a transcendental- was it- whistling. Welp. It’s almost 2am and I’m doing this while also doing my lab reports skgmdsoigndfngsdr okay. Time to di-p. Time to dip into work. Ciao!

~Shintori Khazumi

[rockislandadultreads]

Queer Fiction: book recommendations

lists in celebration of PRIDE month 

Find Me by André Aciman

No novel in recent memory has spoken more movingly to contemporary readers about the nature of love than André Aciman’s haunting Call Me by Your Name. First published in 2007, it was hailed as “a love letter, an invocation . . . an exceptionally beautiful book” (Stacey D’Erasmo, The New York Times Book Review). Nearly three quarters of a million copies have been sold, and the book became a much-loved, Academy Award–winning film starring Timothée Chalamet as the young Elio and Armie Hammer as Oliver, the graduate student with whom he falls in love. In Find Me, Aciman shows us Elio’s father, Samuel, on a trip from Florence to Rome to visit Elio, who has become a gifted classical pianist. A chance encounter on the train with a beautiful young woman upends Sami’s plans and changes his life forever. Elio soon moves to Paris, where he, too, has a consequential affair, while Oliver, now a New England college professor with a family, suddenly finds himself contemplating a return trip across the Atlantic. Aciman is a master of sensibility, of the intimate details and the emotional nuances that are the substance of passion. Find Me brings us back inside the magic circle of one of our greatest contemporary romances to ask if, in fact, true love ever dies.

Darius the Great Deserves Better by Adib Khorram

Darius Kellner is having a bit of a year. Since his trip to Iran this past spring, a lot has changed. He’s getting along with his dad, and his best friend Sohrab is only a Skype call away. Between his first boyfriend, Landon, his varsity soccer practices, and his internship at his favorite tea shop, Darius is feeling pretty okay. Like he finally knows what it means to be Darius Kellner. Then, of course, everything changes. Darius’s grandmothers are in town for a long visit while his dad is gone on business, and Darius isn’t sure whether they even like him. The internship isn’t what Darius thought it would be, and now he doesn’t know about turning tea into his career. He was sure he liked Landon, but when he starts hanging out with Chip–soccer teammate and best friend of Trent Bolger, epic bully–well, he’s just not so sure about Landon anymore, either. Darius thought he knew exactly who he was and what he wanted, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe he deserves better.

Peaces by Helen Oyeyemi

When Otto and Xavier Shin declare their love, an aunt gifts them a trip on a sleeper train to mark their new commitment--and to get them out of her house. Setting off with their pet mongoose, Otto and Xavier arrive at their sleepy local train station, but quickly deduce that The Lucky Day is no ordinary locomotive. Their trip on this former tea-smuggling train has been curated beyond their wildest imaginations, complete with mysterious and welcoming touches, like ingredients for their favorite breakfast. They seem to be the only people onboard, until Otto discovers a secretive woman who issues a surprising message. As further clues and questions pile up, and the trip upends everything they thought they knew, Otto and Xavier begin to see connections to their own pasts, connections that now bind them together.

Love After Love by Ingrid Persaud

An electrifying novel of an unconventional family in Trinidad mended by their individual, and collective, quests for love After Betty Ramdin's husband dies, she invites a colleague, Mr. Chetan, to move in with her and her son, Solo. Over time, the three become a family, loving each other deeply and depending upon one another. Then, one fateful night, Solo overhears Betty confiding in Mr. Chetan and learns a secret that plunges him into torment. Solo flees Trinidad for New York to carve out a lonely existence as an undocumented immigrant, and Mr. Chetan remains the singular thread holding mother and son together. But soon, Mr. Chetan's own burdensome secret is revealed, with heartbreaking consequences. Love After Love interrogates love and family in all its myriad meanings and forms, asking how we might exchange an illusory love for one that is truly fulfilling.

[swynlake-rp]

“All you need is a little faith, trust, and pixie dust.”

FULL NAME: Tink Bell BASED ON: Tinkerbell (Peter Pan) FACE CLAIM: Florence Pugh PRONOUNS: She/her BIRTHDAY: July 30, 1997 CURRENT STATUS: Taken

Character Information

Tink was born on a warm summer’s day in Pixie Hollow. From a young age, Tink showed that she was a strong willed young fairy. It was quickly clear that Tink was not going to be ordinary. During her Arrival ceremony, even though her talent had already presented itself, Tink tried to convince other fairies that she had to have a different talent. She caused a commotion and attempted to take an item from another talent.

However, her talent was what it was and so when she started her schooling, Tink wanted to prove that she was an exceptional tinker. Her talent wasn’t as obviously amazing as some of the others that helped with the seasons but her determination to prove that got her into all kinds of trouble before she even reached her apprenticeship.

When she finally hit the age for her apprenticeship, Tink was still kind of convinced that tinkering wasn’t actually supposed to be her talent. Shouldn’t her talent be something that served a better purpose in the Hollow? Tink attempted to test for all the most interesting elemental talents: garden, light, water, fast-flying, and animal. She failed each one of them. It was only then that she tested for tinkering and ended up in the apprenticeship she would stay in.

Each time she tinkered she wanted to come up with something more exciting than what she was instructed to do. Eventually she graduated from her apprenticeship and started to help out in the Hollow. Only…she still felt like there was something missing in her life. Soon she found herself venturing out from the Hollow more and she fell in love with mundus culture. Tink chose to attend Pride University there and get to know more. She didn’t love the structure of classes but the music and people with different magic was all too exciting. 

Giving up on the university as it was too difficult, Tink came up with a new plan: Pixie’s, a club that would be magick friendly and a safe community. With the help of her good friends, it became her first big success. Or so it felt like to her. Pixie’s was bustling and exciting, and every day brought something interesting to her. Only Tink still felt like she needed to do more. Learn more. This brought her to an engineering study abroad in the states. It would be an exciting new adventure in New York City!

Tink had never packed her bags faster, whisking herself off to the states to discover new things. She also discovered her disaster of an ex. He was gorgeous and fun and they had good chemistry. Only…Tink had a jealous streak a mile wide. And even though he’d never suggested in any way that he’d cheat, the mere visual of him with another girl had her steaming. She lost her head and they had a horrible fight, after which he broke up with her in a horribly public location.

This sort of helped Tink lose her steam in the city and with her engineering degree. Tink dropped out of her study abroad program and booked the first flight out back to England. Now she was coming back to Swynlake ashamed and without much to show for her departure.

✓  Warm-hearted, fearless, intuitive

✖  Envious, impulsive, temperamental

Character Suggestions

None

Current Relationships

Periwinkle Frostbrittle (half-sister)

Possible Relationships

click here!

Magical Abilities

Fairy – can manipulate pixie dust (making things float) and turn into a miniature fairy with wings. Tinker talent.

[witchesversuspatriarchy]

Sorceress of the High Tower: A Maximalist Witch Inspiration Album

Since I was very young all things fantasy and magical within fiction have been of interest to me, including cautionary tales and folklore. Equally I’ve also been drawn to most of the glamorous, slightly dark female characters I’ve read about and seen on screen though the years.

When I gave up goth fashion years ago it took me a while to reconcile my witchy fashion tastes with wearing less black; I eventually learned how to continue the look using colour and have seemingly come up with something suitable for most situations in my life.

The witchy items and outfits I've featured are within a sort of 'Witchy Spectrum' going from fairly ordinary looks or pieces to be styled in a specific way and with the right accessories, perhaps a slightly more professional look, to dramatic dresses with billowing sleeves and skirts that brush the floor, best saved for days out in warmer weather. (Or if you’re like me, a trip to the shops any day of the week, weather permitting.)

INSPO: Howl and Sophie from Howl's Moving Castle, Pre-Raphaelite Art, Florence Welch, 70s fashion, Rococo and Baroque interiors, Arthur Rackham illustrations, Rodarte F/W 16, Court paintings, Old embossed book covers, Yennefer of Vengerberg and Sile de Tanserville, Dutch Still Life paintings.

KEY POINTS

Dramatic fabric choices: velvet, lace, silk, brocade, embroidery, sheer layers, ribbon/lacing details, beading,

Flowing fabric and long layers - flares, bishop and bell sleeves, drapery, floaty garments with a defined waist, wrap front tops

Midi and Maxi length everything

Floral and leafy designs

Stars, astrology and planetary symbols

Pointed ankle boots and lunar themed jewellery

Cloaks, capes and long coats

Dark rich colours, muted hues or the occasional bold look

Large hats

[malarkay]

To Walk With Dreams and Darkness

Chapter two up!  For the perusal of the two of you who are actually seeing this and, presumably, reading it.  Thanks, gatorkid509 and yami268!

Chapter 2: Goodbyes and Greetings

Piper pushed her eggs around her plate as she tried to decide how to tell her family about her being magical.  "Hey, eat up," Robert told her as he deposited a pancake onto her plate and dusted it with confectioner sugar.  "Florence said the train leaves at 11:00 sharp, with or without you on it."

 "I'm just not very hungry," she told him as he gave Finn and Aaron each a pancake before returning to the stove to get a new batch from Agatha.  She had barely finished her sentence before Finn snatched the pancake from her plate.  "Hey!"

 "What?  You said you aren't hungry.  I am!"

 "Finn, we do not steal food off other people's plates in this house," Agatha chided from where she was pouring the last bit of batter into the pan.

 "But she didn't want it!"

 "Yes, I did!"

 "You're only saying that because I took it!"

 "It's a pancake! Of course I wanted it!"

 "Then don't say you're not hungry!"

 "You don't have to be hungry to eat a pancake!"

 "It helps!"

 Beside Finn, Aaron just shook his head slowly as he quietly ate his own breakfast.  Robert came back and gave her two pancakes, then added another one to Aaron's plate.

 "What about me?"

 Robert gave Finn 'The Look' and waited.

 "May I please have another pancake?"

 "Yes, you may, thank you for asking so politely," Robert told him, giving him one more.  He added the rest to his own plate while Agatha came to join them with her own.  

 "Are you excited, Piper?" she asked.

 "Nervous."

 "That's understandable. I think everyone is feeling a bit out of sorts this morning," Agatha said, looking at Finn, whose brow was furrowed in a frown as he shovelled food into his mouth.

 "You're going to be just fine," Robert said.  "People are going to love you."

 She smiled at him, and breakfast finished up without any further arguments.

 Ms Davies arrived a little after 9:00 and pulled her aside as Robert loaded her things into the boot of their car.  "Have you told them?"

 "Not yet.  I didn't want them to think I was crazy, so I thought I'd wait until we get to King's Cross Station.  If what Professor Skeelur told me about how to get onto the platform is right, then there's no denying that magic is real when they see it for themselves."

 "Well, you're not wrong about that," Ms Davies agreed.

 All six of them couldn't fit into one car, so they split up for the ride to King's Cross.  She and Aaron went with Ms Davies, while the Wrights took Finn with them.

 "Promise me you'll write," Aaron told her as they drove.

 "Of course I'll write," she assured him.

 "Every week."

 "I'll do my best, as long as you do the same."

 "I will.  And if you have any problems with any of the other kids and you can't handle it, not that you won't be able to handle it, but if you can't, let me know.  I'll come up there, and I'll deal with them!"

 She laughed.

 "I mean it!"

 "I know you do. That's very sweet, but I don't think you're going to have to."

 Once at King's Cross, they reunited with the others.  "Where'd you put your ticket, Piper?" Robert asked her.  "We need the platform number."

 "Um, about that," Piper said, pulling her ticket out of the messenger bag she had slung over her shoulder.  "There's something you need to know first."

 "You're having second thoughts?" Finn asked.

 "No.  It's just the school I'm going to; it's no ordinary school."

 "Pfft, okay, we knew that already.  It's for super-smart kids like you," Finn said dismissively.

 "Not exactly. It's, well, it's easier if I show you. We need to get to Platform 9 ¾."

 She watched for their reactions.  Robert and Agatha exchanged concerned glances before looking to Ms Davies for confirmation. Aaron looked confused while Finn laughed.  "Good one, Piper.  Seriously, is it platform 9 or 10?"

 "Platform 9 ¾," Ms Davies confirmed.  "You have to run at the wall that separates platforms 9 and 10."

 "I'm sorry? Florence, we've known each other a long time, but this sounds absurd," Robert said.

 "You want us to run into a wall?" Agatha asked.

 "No, I want us to run through a wall."

 The Wrights still looked rightfully sceptical, so Piper spoke up.  "Let's just go, and then Aaron, Finn and I will show you."  

 Robert shook his head but gestured for her to lead the way.  "Alright, but I really don't want to spend the rest of the day in hospital while the three of you get patched up."

 For their parts, Aaron and Finn looked excited at the prospect of either running through or into a brick wall.  When they got to the column between the two platforms, they backed up to give themselves a good running start.  "Okay, on the count of three," Aaron said.  "One."

 "You're really not even a little bit hesitant?" she asked them.

 "No, we trust you. Two."

 "This is the stupidest thing we've done all week!" Finn said, grinning.

 She glanced over to her foster parents.  Agatha was shielding her eyes from what she must assume would be imminent disaster. Robert stood with a hand covering his mouth, looking perplexed.

 "Three!"

 They raced each other to the column, and when they reached the brick, there was a moment of darkness as they passed through, and then they were on the other side.  The platform was packed with families seeing their children off to school.  On the tracks behind them was the Hogwarts Express, an impressive-looking steam locomotive, all shiny red and black and looking brand new even though she had read that it was 150 years old.    

 "Awesome!" Finn yelled, drawing several eyes toward them.  "This…this is magic!  You're magic?"

 "I'm magic!"

 "The school you're going to is a magical school?"

 "Yes."

 "That's so cool! And unfair!  Why can't we be magic, too?"

 "It's a rare gift," Ms Davies said from behind them.  They turned to see that she and the Wrights had made the journey through the platform.  The Wrights were looking around as if they thought they were having a shared nervous breakdown.

 "Aww."

 "By the way, the school isn't named Saint Cyprian's," Piper explained to the Wrights and Aaron while Finn was busy pouting.  "It's called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  When you write, just put my name and the school's name on the envelope and drop it into the post.  Professor Skeelur said it will get to me."

 "I don't understand. That professor didn't look like a wizard," Agatha said faintly.

 "To be fair, Ag, Piper doesn't look like a witch," Robert replied.

 "None of them do," Aaron said, looking around.  "Aren't witches supposed to be green?  With warts?"

 A girl a few years older than them shot him a dirty look as she passed, shaking her head. "Bloody stupid Muggles," she muttered under her breath.

 Piper crossed her arms, "That's just in the movies."

 "They do dress kinda funny, though," Finn said, getting over his disappointment.

 It was true.  While everyone was wearing Muggle clothes, not everyone was doing a very convincing job of it.  Most of the kids had managed to pull together a look that wouldn't raise too many eyebrows.  The same couldn't be said for the adults.   One woman in the crowd was wearing an elaborate ball gown, which wouldn't automatically be a problem except that it was 10:50 in the morning on a Wednesday.

 "Well, they do have their own world that's separate from ours," Piper reasoned. "It makes sense they dress a little differently."

 "As much as I'd love to stand here and discuss wizard fashion, we better get you and your luggage boarded," Robert said.  "The train leaves soon."

 Piper nodded and turned to Aaron first, hugging him.  "I'm going to miss you," she told him.

 "I'm going to miss you, too.  But you'll be back for Christmas.  And we're going to write each other all the time," he reminded her.  "It'll be like you never left!"

 She let him go and turned to Finn.

 "Well, I'm not gonna miss you even a little," Finn said.

 "Good, because I'm not going to miss you either."

 "I suppose you expect a hug."

 "This is the last time we're going to see each other for the next three and a half months, but I'm not going to twist your arm."

 He scoffed and hugged her, surprising her a little with the fierceness of it.  She hugged him back just as tightly, and he buried his face in her shoulder.  She felt a bit of dampness seep through her shirt.  "Are you crying?" she whispered, even as she felt her own eyes start to sting.  

 "No," he lied.

 They broke apart after a long moment, and Aaron threw an arm around Finn's shoulders as she went to hug Agatha goodbye.  She even hugged Ms Davies.  Once her goodbyes were said, she and Robert went and got her trunk settled into the luggage van.  After that, there was nothing left to do but board the train herself.

 Students crowded the corridor, congregating to greet old friends or looking for a compartment to settle down in.

 She picked her way slowly down the corridor, searching for a seat. The compartments were filling up fast, but she managed to come across one that carried only three occupants, two boys and a girl who all looked to be fellow incoming first years.

 "Do you mind if I sit in here?"

 The three looked at her appraisingly before exchanging glances, coming to an unspoken consensus. One of the boys, a stocky kid with shaggy brown hair, spoke, "Compartment's full."

 She put her hands on her hips, frowning at the blatant lie. If they didn't want her around, the least they could do was have the guts to be honest about it. "It doesn't look full to me."

 The group's spokesperson scowled, but it quickly shifted into a grin as he looked over her shoulder and waved to someone behind her. "Lark! Saved you a seat!"

 Piper glanced around and spotted the girl from the wand shop. Their eyes met, but if she recognized her, she did a good job of not showing it.  "How very thoughtful of you, Alex," she said dryly as she slipped past Piper to join them.

 "You know me, always thinking," the boy said.  "Besides, I haven't seen you since you've been back.  We've got a lot to catch up on."  He looked back to the doorway, feigning surprise that Piper was still there.  "I thought I already told you that there's no more room.  Find somewhere else to be.  Oh, and close the door for us on your way out, would you?"

 "Close it yourself!" Piper turned on her heels and stormed off. Her departure was met with a chorus of snickers from the group.  In her annoyance, she failed to watch where she was going and ended up nearly bowled over a lanky boy with ginger hair.

 "Whoa!" He reached out to take hold of her shoulders, steadying them both after their collision. "Are you alright?"

 "Yes, I'm fine," she snapped and immediately felt terrible.  "Sorry I ran into you," she told him more gently.

 "It's okay.  And are you sure you're fine?  Because I might not be if I had to deal with that gang of tossers."

 She looked up at him, wide-eyed. "You saw that?"

 "Yeah. You're better off, honestly. You don't want to be friends with them."

 "You know them?"

 "Well, no, not personally," he admitted with a slight frown. "More by reputation. Come on, let's find somewhere to sit, then we can talk more."

 She trailed along behind him until he found a compartment that was empty save for a blonde girl.

 "Mind if we join you?" he asked her.

 "Not at all. I'm Dierdra Macmillan."

 "Bill Weasley. And this is," he paused to let Piper introduce herself.

 "Piper Cochran," she said, sitting next to Dierdra. Bill sat across from them.

 "Is this your first year at Hogwarts?" Dierdra asked. They both nodded. "Mine, too. I can't wait! What House do you think you'll be sorted into?"

 "My mum and dad were both in Gryffindor," Bill answered. "It wouldn't surprise me if I'm put there."

 "My father was in Ravenclaw, my mother in Hufflepuff.  But I'm not sure where I'll be placed, honestly."

 Piper's face grew hot as they spoke. She curled up in her seat and tried to stay out of the conversation, but Bill had other plans.

 "I'd wager Piper is going to be sorted into Gryffindor. You should have seen how she had a run-in with a group of bullies and didn't let them intimidate her," he grinned.

 Dierdra's face twisted as if she'd been force-fed a lemon. "Bet I can guess who you're talking about. Alex Nott and his friends?  I saw them earlier."

 "Do you know him?"

 "Unfortunately. We're distant cousins on our mothers' sides.  Not distant enough for our paths to never cross, sadly.  He's always been an insufferable prat."

 "My condolences."

 "Thank you. Anyway, I don't understand why the Ministry is even allowing the children of Death Eaters to attend Hogwarts."

 Bill shrugged. "You can't really punish them for what their parents did, can you?"

 Piper chewed her lip as curiosity warred with her embarrassment over not understanding what they were talking about. In the end, curiosity won. "What's a Death Eater?"

 Dierdra looked at her in surprise before realization lit her face. "Oh, you're Muggle-born! Why didn't you say so? Death Eaters were followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

 Piper's lack of comprehension must have shown because Dierdra elaborated, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was a dark wizard who believed Pure-bloods should rule the world. A lot of good people who disagreed with that died in the war against him."

 Piper gaped at her, "There was a war? When?" How could there have been an entire war going on right under their noses, and they had never noticed?

 "It went on for practically our whole lives. It just ended last October when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was finally stopped. As for his followers, a lot of them have been sent to Azkaban."

 "And a lot of others managed to lie their way out of trouble," Bill added.

 "Or buy their way out of it," Dierdra added with distaste. "And who knows how many others are out there who haven't been caught yet?"

 "So those kids back there, you're saying their parents are Death Eaters?"

 Dierdra shrugged, "The Ministry suspected Thaddeus Nott of being one.  They even put him on trial, but in the end, they couldn't prove it. That's Alex's uncle, though.  They never suspected his father, but as someone who has met the man, I can tell you that the odds are good that he was one, too.  The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

 "The Cyclonis' definitely were," Bill said. "It was a real shock when that came out after they died. Cyneric Cyclonis had a good reputation within the Ministry. My dad works there, too.  He says a lot of people thought it was only a matter of time before he'd run for Minister for Magic and that he'd probably win."

 "How'd they die?"

 "No one knows. My dad says it was probably You-Know-Who," Bill answered.  "He'd do that, sometimes, kill his own followers if they upset him badly enough."

 "Was there never an investigation?"

 "There was, but…"

 "But what?"

 "But they were Death Eaters.  The Ministry wasn't going to put too much effort into solving the murder of a couple of Death Eaters, no matter how popular they may have been before their secret came out," Dierdra finished bluntly when Bill hesitated.

 "That's awful."

 "A lot of awful things happened in the war," Dierdra said, in a tone that suggested that the story they had just told her was amongst the least of them.

 Piper knew what it felt like to lose both parents. Dierdra may not feel any sympathy toward Lark, but Piper couldn't help it. But the way that Bill and Dierdra spoke made the Death Eaters sound more like terrorists than soldiers in a war. She couldn't make herself feel too bad for Lark's parents in that case. Still, it'd drive her crazy if her parents were murdered, and no one cared enough to find out who did it or why.

 "You still with us, Piper?"

 "Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just thinking."

 "That was a lot of information we hit you with all at once," Bill said apologetically. "I'm sure the school library will have old copies of The Daily Prophet if you want to read up on the war. Some of the stories are pretty bad, though."

 Piper nodded, "I'll take a look. I want to be able to understand what people are talking about, after all."

 "You'll get used to the wizarding world pretty quickly," Dierdra assured her. "It can't be all that different from the Muggle one, can it?"

 Piper laughed. Just from what she'd seen so far, she knew they were very different. "You have no idea."

 "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

 Piper looked toward the door where a kindly looking old woman stood with a trolley laden with sweets.

 "I brought something from home, thank you," she said.

 "Me, too," Bill said.

 "What?" Dierdra sounded absolutely scandalized. "Piper, you at least have to get your first chocolate frog."  She hopped out of her seat and handed the trolley attendant some money. "Three chocolate frogs, please."

 She was handed three fancy looking boxes. She passed one to Piper, one to Bill, and retook her seat with the third.

 "Thanks, Dierdra, but you really didn't need to buy us anything," Piper said.

 "But I wanted to. Open it up! Each chocolate frog comes with a collectable card."

 Piper pulled off the seal that held the box closed and flipped open the lid. As she did, the chocolate frog within leapt right out of the box. She made a grab for it, snatching it out of midair before it could hit the ground.

 "Whoa, nice reflexes!" Bill exclaimed.

 She held the squirming frog out at arm's length. "Is it supposed to do that?" she yelped.

 Dierdra covered her mouth. She was trying not to laugh and not doing a good job of it. "Sorry! I know I should have warned you, but I really wanted to see your reaction."

 "The frogs are enchanted," Bill explained with a grin. "They're fine to eat once they stop moving."

 Piper tentatively opened her hand. Luckily, the frog's enchantment really had worn off, and she was able to put the now still frog back in the box after retrieving the card.

 She looked down at the pentagonal card. A blonde-haired woman wearing an old-fashioned aviator cap and goggles smiled up at her. At the bottom of the card read the name Jocunda Sykes. As she watched, the woman waved and snapped off a little salute.

 "They're animated!"

 "Well, sure, why wouldn't they be?"

 She flipped the card over. There was a little blurb about Jocunda's accomplishments printed there. She was the first witch the fly across the Atlantic Ocean on a broom back in 1935. Piper thought that sounded like a lot of fun.

 "Are we going to learn how to fly on a broom at Hogwarts?"

 "Of course! Not only that, but if you're any good at it, you can try out for your House Quidditch team."

 "Quidditch? Oh!  There was a shop in Diagon Alley that had that in its name, but I didn't think to ask what it meant."

 Dierdra and Bill grinned at each other.

 "You might as well get your lunch out and make yourself comfortable; we've got a lot to talk about."

 ~*~*~

 Talk they did, until some older students came along, walking down the corridor and knocking on doorframes. "One hour to Hogsmeade Station. Time to start thinking about changing into your robes."

 Dierdra pointed a finger out into the corridor. "Out, Bill. We'll change first."

 Bill went to stand out in the corridor, and Dierdra slid the door closed, pulling down the window shade.

 They changed into their uniforms without much chin-wagging, so they didn't keep Bill waiting too long. Piper had to admit that she felt a little silly as she slipped her robes over her uniform.

 Once ready, they swapped places with Bill. By the time they were all dressed, the older students were making their rounds again. "Half an hour to Hogsmeade Station! Make sure you have everything you brought with you! The train won't be coming back until the Christmas holiday!"

 Before she knew it, the train was pulling into the station. They made their way to the exit and stepped out into the night. The station bustled with activity.

 "All luggage and pets over there! They will be brought to your dormitories!"

 "Second through seventh years, make your way to the carriages! Four students per carriage, please! We won't have a repeat of last year! Looking at you, fifth-year Gryffindors!"

 "Firs' years? Firs' years this way, follow me!"

 Piper and the others followed the sound of the last booming voice and discovered that it belonged to an immense man with long dark hair and a beard. He was broad, but more than that, he was tall. Taller by far than anyone she had ever seen before. Twice her height, easily, and then some!

 Looking around, she saw many of the others openly gawking at him. So, some things took even wizarding children by surprise. Good to know.

 He led them to the edge of a lake, where a small fleet of rowboats waited.

 "Alrigh' then, in the boats yeh go!" he told them, overseeing them all. They sat four to a boat. Piper, Bill and Dierdra were joined by a boy who introduced himself as Liam Logue.

 Once all the first years settled into their boats, the giant man stepped into one of his own. It creaked loudly under his weight but stayed afloat. His boat moved of its own accord, pulling out in front of all the others, and all the other boats followed.

 She looked out over the lake to their destination and inhaled sharply. An expansive castle rose from the craggy shores at the far side of the lake. A gibbous moon rose into the clear, starry skies behind it, casting its glowing reflection into the lake in front of them. It was beautiful. A low murmur of appreciation rippled through the fleet of boats at the view.

 As they drew nearer to the castle, the man called out, "Watch yer heads!"

 She ducked slightly as the boat glided through an ivy-covered opening in the cliff. They sailed on through an underground tunnel before coming to a stop on a rocky shore. They climbed out and followed the man up a flight of stone steps to a heavy wooden door. The man knocked three times, loudly, and the door swung open.

 They followed him into a large entry hall, coming to a stop in front of a strict looking woman with her black hair pulled into a tight bun.

 "Professor McGonagall," the man greeted. "The new firs' years for yeh."

 "Thank you, Hagrid," the woman replied. "Follow me," she said to them. She led them across the large entrance hall, stopping before another large door.

 She turned to address them. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin. But first, there are a few things you should know. There are four houses at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each of you will be sorted into one of these houses, where you will remain throughout your years here. Over the course of the year, you will have many opportunities to win your house points. Any misbehaviour, however, may lead to the deduction of points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the house cup. Now then, are you all ready?"

 They all nodded, and Professor McGonagall pushed open the doors, striding into the Great Hall beyond. They trailed after her, and Piper stared in wonder. Four long tables stretched along the length of the hall, two on each side of the walkway they followed the professor down. Dozens of kids already sat at each table, watching them. At the head of each table hung a banner depicting what she assumed was each house's crest. Green and silver emblazoned with a serpent, blue and bronze with an eagle, scarlet and gold with a lion, and yellow and black with a badger.

 Hundreds of candles floated in midair above them, casting a soft flickering glow throughout the hall. The ceiling, well, she wasn't sure there was a ceiling. It looked exactly like the night sky had outside. Even the phase of the moon was the same.

 Upon a raised dais, at the front of the hall, sat another long table where the teaching staff sat. She spotted Professor Skeelur amongst them and tried not to gawk.  His hair was styled into a tousled quiff; the long top section dyed green while the shorter sides were purple. Even his goatee was purple. He was dressed in robes, black with silver trim on the outside, but with a violently fluorescent lime green lining that glared out from the inside of his hood and sleeves.  She could just imagine the look on her foster mother's face if he had shown up to their house looking like that. Aaron and Finn would think it was the wickedest thing ever, though. She felt a twinge at the thought of them. She really wished they could be here, too.

 In front of the table, right in the centre of the dais, sat a stool with a wide-brimmed, pointed hat sitting atop it. The hat looked ancient and worn, and she wondered what purpose it served in all of this.

 Professor McGonagall led them right up to the steps leading up to the dais before climbing the steps herself to stand behind the stool.

 An expectant silence fell over the hall, and after a moment, the hat began to sing.  Because, of course it did.

 Before I Sort you all tonight, there's one thing to make clear,

A note to both the tall and small that I find apt this year.

When Godric, Helga, Rowena and Salazar began,

They joined forces to achieve their illustrious grand plan.

For all four were well aware that they could not unaided,

See their great ambition reached; they were not yet so jaded.

So all together they succeeded in their common quest,

To build a school that the wizarding world would name the best.

And while it's true that each had certain values that they sought,

When it came time to fill these halls, it's everyone they taught.

So, while it is my job to place in Ravenclaw the wise,

And make sure that it is the true that Hufflepuff comprise,

And while in Gryffindor it is that boldness must reside,

And into Slytherin go those whose aspirations guide,

I bid you to remember that united we are strong,

And don't forget that each and every one of you belongs.

 "When I call your name, come up and take a seat on the stool," Professor McGonagall said once the hat fell silent.  She retrieved a scroll of parchment from a pocket in her robes, unrolled it, and called the first name.

 "Agarwal, Arjun."

 A nervous-looking boy wearing a black turban climbed the steps and took a seat, and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head. They all waited in eager anticipation to see what would happen next. They weren't kept waiting long. About fifteen seconds later, the hat called out, "Hufflepuff!"

 The kids at the yellow and black table broke into applause, and the boy smiled and hopped off the stool to join them.

 She watched as the same scene played out for a couple more kids, and then the professor called out, "Avery, Josephine."

 Piper frowned. She recognized the plump, bespectacled girl as part of the group that had rebuffed her on the train.

 Less than ten seconds went by before the hat yelled, "Slytherin!"

 The green and silver table burst into loud applause as she joined them.

 "Boo!" someone called from the scarlet and gold table, and Professor McGonagall shot them a look that Piper was very happy to not be on the receiving end of.

 "Decorum, ladies and gentlemen," the professor said sharply. "This is your one reminder! Brimble, Claudia."

 "Gryffindor!"

 That was met with riotous celebration by the scarlet and gold table.

 Bryne, Elliott and a pair of twins by the name Cadwallader all went to Hufflepuff. And then...

 "Cochran, Piper.'

 She slowly mounted the steps and sat on the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head, and the brim slipped down over her eyes, obstructing her view of the Great Hall.

 She nearly jumped when a voice spoke to her. 'Let's see what's in this head of yours, shall we? Hmmm, interesting. You're quite intelligent, aren't you? I see a great deal of curiosity. You're studious and creative. You'd do very well in Ravenclaw. Very well, indeed.'

 She waited for the hat to shout that out to the rest of the room. Instead, the hat spoke again.

 'Not so fast. I'm not done with you yet. There's more here. I see bravery. I see a desire to do the right thing. You're someone who won't tolerate injustice when you see it, who won't back down from a fight. Fine traits in a Gryffindor.'

 Again, she waited for the hat to make its announcement, and again it did not.

 'I haven't decided yet. You're a difficult case. I believe you'd excel in either house. But what about you? What do you think?'

 'I don't know,' she thought to the hat. 'I don't know enough about either house to decide.'

 'You don't need to know anything about them. You just need to know yourself. What matters to you?'

 'I don't know!' she thought, frustrated. 'I want...'

 'Yes?'

 'I want to feel like I'm part of something, like a team or a family. I already miss mine. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited about learning magic. Really, really excited! But I worry I'll end up too homesick to enjoy it.'

 'I see. Each house is like a family to its members, but it is true that some form closer bonds than others. Of the four, Ravenclaw is the most individualistic. And so, I believe, the matter is settled.'

 "Gryffindor!"

 The hat was pulled off her head, and she made her way to the cheering Gryffindor table.

 "I told you!" Bill said as she passed him, and they grinned at each other.

 She found a place to sit at the table, getting handshakes and backslaps from everyone within arm's reach. She couldn't stop smiling as she turned her attention back to the sorting.

 "Coventry, Maximus."

 That did make her smile falter a bit. The scrawny kid with dark, curly hair who took his place on the sorting stool was the other silently judgmental boy from the train. It came as no surprise to her when the hat called out, "Slytherin!"

 "Everyone is getting sorted so fast," she commented to an older girl who sat next to her. "When I was up there, it felt like it took forever!"

 "You actually were up there for a while," the girl told her. "Close to two minutes. Some people aren't as easy for the hat to figure out as others. It's not a bad thing. The hat wants to make sure you end up in the house that's right for you. I don't think I'd trust it if it sorted everyone in five seconds."

 "I suppose that's true," Piper conceded as she turned her attention back to the ceremony.

 "Cyclonis, Larkspur."

 Piper expected her to be sorted as quickly as the Coventry boy, but ten seconds passed, and the hat remained silent. Fifteen seconds. Thirty. A minute. It was a minute and a half before the hat made its decision.

 "Slytherin!"

 "See?" the older girl told her reassuringly. "It's not uncommon."

 The sorting went on for some time. Their boat mate Liam went to Hufflepuff. Dierdra ended up in Ravenclaw. Alexander Nott landed in Slytherin. Eventually, the group was whittled down to three.

 "Weasley, William."

 The hat had scarcely settled on his head before it declared, "Gryffindor!"

 He took a seat across from her and smiled. "Mum and Dad will be happy."

 Winters, Gideon was sorted into Hufflepuff and Woodlock, Aisling into Ravenclaw. And with that, the sorting was complete.

 The stool and hat were replaced with an elaborate owl lectern, and a man stepped up to address the room. He looked exactly how she expected a wizard to look. He was a tall, thin man draped in midnight blue robes, with long white hair and a long beard. He studied them through gold-framed, half-moon glasses.

 "I'd like to start with a brief announcement. As many of you may have already noticed, Professor Skeelur has returned to us. He will not be resuming his role as Divination professor, however, as Professor Trelawney will be staying on in that position. Instead, he will be taking over the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

 Professor Skeelur stood and gave a jaunty bow as the students applauded.

 "Now then, for those of you who may not know, I am Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of this school, and it is my pleasure to welcome you all to a new year at Hogwarts. You know, I've always found the beginning of a new school year to be a magical time, a time of new beginnings and new possibilities.  And this year, I feel it even more keenly.  We have been through tumultuous times in recent years.  For some of you, that is all you've ever known.  But we have weathered that storm.  Those days are behind us now, and we are free to look to the future with a renewed sense of hope.  And that is what I feel when I look at all of you now.  Hope.  The hope that we can help guide you into becoming the best possible versions of yourselves.  You are the future of the wizarding world, and it is my fervent wish that your future is a bright one, one full of peace, and prosperity, and progress.  That is the world you deserve to know."

 He paused, letting his words sink in as his gaze slowly swept across the hall.

 When he spoke again, his tone was more light-hearted, "But that's enough talk for one night. Enjoy the feast!"

 With those words, a multitude of steaming serving bowls and platters laden with food appeared in the centre of the table.

 She helped herself to a slice of roast beef and one of baked ham, roast potatoes with garlic and rosemary, Yorkshire pudding, peas and glazed carrots and tucked in for a night of good food and conversation.

 She discovered that the older girl she had spoken to during the sorting was a fifth-year prefect named Cathy Wells. She assured Piper and the other first years within earshot that they could come to her with any questions or concerns.

 She also learned that two other first years at the table were Muggle-born and just as excited as she was to be here learning real magic. Connor Monohan was from Wexford, Ireland, while Edgar Grant was from Leeds.  When they found out that she was from Brixton, they wanted to know all about her experience with the riots from the previous summer. Her foster parents had kept her and her brothers well clear of the violence, but she told them what she could of those days and their aftermath. The conversation fascinated the wizarding kids, who didn't seem to grasp the concept of racial tension until one of the older Muggle-born students compared it to Pure-bloods versus Muggle-borns. That had everyone chiming in with their own stories from that same summer. Apparently, the Death Eaters had been particularly emboldened in the months leading up to You-Know-Who's downfall.

 Cathy only let the conversation get so far before she steered it away from the grim turn it had taken. No one complained.

 The dinner dishes vanished as Bill told them funny stories of his five little brothers and baby sister. In their place, an entire spread of pudding appeared. Being stuffed from dinner didn't stop her from taking a slice of Victoria sponge cake.

 About half an hour later, all the plates disappeared. Professor McGonagall, who Piper had learned was both Deputy Headmistress and the Head of Gryffindor, announced that it was time for the prefects to lead their houses to the dormitories.

 Piper followed Cathy out of the Great Hall and off to the staircases. "Pay attention," Cathy instructed them. "The staircases change, and you don't want to get lost on the way to Gryffindor Tower later when you're all on your own."

 Sure enough, as Piper watched, some of the staircases overhead shifted from one landing to another. "We're this way," Cathy pointed out before mounting the steps. "Seventh floor."

 She led them up several flights of stairs and down a hallway to another spiral staircase that led to a large landing where a portrait of a large woman hung on the wall.

 "The Fat Lady guards our common room entrance," Cathy explained.

 "Password?" the portrait requested.

 "Frabjous day!"

 "Callooh!  Callay!" the Fat Lady replied with a delighted laugh, and the portrait swung open to reveal a round door that opened into a circular common room. The room was warm and cosy, with a fire roaring in a large fireplace. A lion portrait hung above the mantle, and the walls were lined with paintings and tapestries in varying shades of red and gold. Overstuffed scarlet chairs and sofas dotted the room. Several long tables could accommodate multiple students for studying, along with smaller side tables that held books or chessboards. Tall windows were spaced in even intervals along the walls. During the day, the common room was sure to be bathed in sunlight. A few nooks and alcoves were cut into the walls, which would lend a small amount of privacy to the few occupants they would allow. Near the door stood a message board. Cathy explained that they could find announcements such as Quidditch tryouts, club meeting schedules, and changes to the common room password posted there.

 "First-year girls, follow me. I'll show you to your dorm," Cathy said. "First-year boys, follow Matthew. He'll show you to yours."

 She pointed to a blond boy who looked about the same age as Cathy. The boy saluted, "Matt Higgins, at your service."

 Bill and the other boys broke away from the group to follow Matt while Piper and the girls followed Cathy up a side staircase to a room that housed five four-poster beds in a circle around the room, each bed draped with heavy scarlet curtains. Their trunks were placed at the end of the beds for them, and they each had a plain wooden chair and nightstand of their own.

 "Breakfast is served in the Great Hall from 6:30 to 8:30. You'll get your class timetable at breakfast tomorrow. Classes begin at 9:00. Whatever you do, don't be late! We don't want to start the year with negative house points. Curfew is between 9:00 PM and 6:00 AM, except when you have astronomy. Other than that, no wandering the castle in the middle of the night. It's against the rules, but besides that, it's dangerous. Lights out at 10:00.  Bathrooms are one flight up the stairs we took to get here. Any questions?"

 They all shook their heads no.

 "Well then, sleep well!"

 With that, Cathy left them to their own devices. They chatted as they prepared for bed. Her dormmates were Claudia Brimble, Maeve McCarver, Catriona Taggart, and Jocasta Erskine. None of them were Muggle-born, although Claudia and Catriona both had one non-magical parent, so the Muggle world wasn't a completely foreign concept to them. They all seemed friendly, and Piper thought they would probably get on well enough during their time here.

 "We should probably get to sleep soon," she said as she laid out her uniform for the following day. "Like Cathy said, we don't want to be late."

 The others agreed, and soon they were all tucked snugly into bed for the night.

[tomystar2]

Answer 30 questions and tag others~

Tagged by @maddiesup Thank you Maddie!!! 💖

1. Name - Zoe

2. Gender - Female

3. Star Sign - Aries ♈️

4. Height - 5’4

5. Time - I finished this at 6:35 PM

6. Birthday - April 1st (I know it’s April Fools Day... lol)

7. Favorite Bands/Groups - Currently bts, seventeen, the weepies, black eyed peas, and the Beatles, vertical horizon, the chicks, oasis, Florence + the machine, and many more

8. Favorite Solo Artists - Right now I’ll say Rihanna, Regina Spector, Billie Eilish, The Weeknd, Michelle branch, Lizzo, H.E.R., Lewis capaldi, janelle monae, post Malone, etc.

9. Last Movie - I don’t watch movies that often. So it was probably avengers endgame.

10. Last Show - I watched manner of death and great British bake off yesterday

11. When Did I Create This Blog - Like 1 month ago

12. What I Post - Random stuff 🤪 Mostly tv shows

13. Last Thing I Googled - The untamed

14. Other Blogs - @you-okay-honey is my main blog

15. Do I Get Asks - No 😔 Pls send some!

16. Why I Chose My URL - This URL comes from a show called the good place. I want to change it but I can never think of anything. My main blogs url comes from a RENT song.

17. Following - 124

18. Followers - This one has 20. My main has 91.

19. Average Hours Of Sleep - Around 8 or 9 😴

20. Instruments - I used to play flute in middle school. I would love to be able to play the guitar and piano 🎶

21. What I Am Wearing - Long sleeve shirt and sweatpants

22. Dream Job - Idk I’ve always wanted to pick the songs that go on shows/movies so whatever that is

23. Dream Trip - Absolutely ANYWHERE. I don’t really go on trips that often. I’ve been to like 3 states in America including the one I live in 😭

24. Favorite Food - Idk I really like French fries and chocolate

25. Nationality - American

26. Favorite Song - I have SO MANY! It’s impossible to list all of them. Some of my favorites are dynamite by bts, waving through a window from dear Evan Hansen, this is me from the greatest showman, all the songs from RENT, defying gravity from wicked, jumper by third eye blind, you learn by Alanis morissette, life less ordinary by carbon leaf, have a little faith in me by John haitt, lifestyles of the rich & famous by good Charlotte, just a girl by no doubt. Ok I’ll stop. I could go on and on....... ❤️

27. Last Book I Read - I don’t think I’ve ever read a book fully except for school (even then I’m not sure if I’ve read the whole thing)

28. Fictional Universe I Want To Live In - The ones I think of at night before I go to sleep 😂

29. Fictional Universe I Want To Live In Part 2 - Cherry magic because the characters are lovely and supportive of each other! Or friend zone because they are MESSY and I think it would be fun!

30. Fictional Universe I Want To Live In Part 3 - The untamed because it’s one of my favorite shows and I want to have spiritual power!

Tagging - @theblbois, @heliannthuus, @almondhonrey, @hopepalm, @littlequeenlilyapple, @thelastoftheredhotswamis2, @crapyouknowme, @lazymuffinrebelexpert, @namicilla, @prince-yixing, @rest-in-bees, @n25a, @phanphandom-idjit, @dean-winchester-is-my-cherry-pie, @sirksj, @sensiblekitty, @strangegames, @tinyreadinglifelight, @funyasm, @multifandomstan20 and anybody else who wants to!

[aforrestofstuff]

Okay! I have a burning question for you, my dude. Music is my life, and I wanna know what kind of music the OPM casts listen to. Thanks, my guy!

I had a feeling this would be inevitable lol. I don’t really know a whole lot about music or genres or anything like that so I’m just gonna give you a rundown of each character individually and some song recs along with that just to smooth things out a little. Thanks for your ask, by the way! ❤️ Now my playlists will be put to good use.

A Brief Rundown of the Major OPM Characters’ Music Tastes:

Blast: hc that he doesn’t even have ears since he never fucking LISTENS

Terrible Tornado: Stuff that makes her feel powerful. Loud vocals and good instrumentals. Also, she’s a little angsty since she’s saltier than the gotdamn Pacific almost all of the time. (Recs: Florence and the Machine - How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, Susanne Sundfør - Delirious, Florence and the Machine - What Kind of Man, Kali Uchis - Dead to Me, Let’s Eat Grandma - Falling Into Me)

Fubuki: some of that real classy shit. Slow songs that are nice to just have a cup of tea with. Nothing too meaty or fast-paced, she enjoys taking a moment to breathe every once and a while since life gets pretty hectic when you’re managing a gang of some 30 hooligans. (Recs: Wes - Midnight Low, any song from Lana Del Rey’s entire discography lol, Florence and the Machine - Grace, The Marìas - I Don’t Know You, Yellow House - Ain’t Gonna Call, Feng Suave - Toking, Dozing)

Silverfang: Stuff from his time. I hc that he was a bit of a party animal back in his prime so he’s gotta have those grooves. Disco to the extremo. Also, another hc: Garou absolutely hates his music. He would play it during training and Garou would contemplate homicide. (Recs: Frankie Valli - Grease, The Edgar Winter Group - Free Ride, KC and the Sunshine Band - I’m Your Boogie Man, Matthew Wilder - Break My Stride, The Main Ingredient - Everybody Plays the Fool, Andrea True Connection - More, More, More)

Bomb: save as Silverfang, although I hc that Bomb was a little more of a nerd growing up. Still, he never missed out on a good party. (Additional Recs: KC and the Sunshine Band - Get Down Tonight, The Trammps - Disco Inferno, Tierra - Together, Cornelius Bros and Sister Rose - Too Late to Turn Back Now)

Atomic Samurai: Old shit. Shit older than Silverfang. He’s really not that old, but his soul is fucking ancient and he’s got that classic “grrr music these days sucks” kind of shithead attitude. (Recs: Jim Croce - Time in a Bottle, Dion - Runaround Sue, The Carpenters - The End of the World, The Band - The Weight)

Child Emperor: Upbeat synth. Stuff to listen to while he’s working on his machines and whatnot. Probably has meaty beats to keep him in tune with what he’s doing, like working around a clock. Probably some groovy citypop in there too. (Recs: Taeko Ohnuki - 4:00 AM, Junko Ohashi - Telephone Number, Tatsuro Yamashita - Magic Ways, Hiroyuki Sawano - NEXUS, Superfly - Kakusei, Mariya Takeuchi - Plastic Love)

Metal Knight: Intrumentals that Disney villains listen to. Deep, dark shit that makes you feel sad. He probably feeds off of negative emotion. What a toolbag. (Recs: Lucas King - Sociopath, Abel Korzeniowski- Table for Two, Max Richter - Never Goodbye, Max Richter - She Remembers, Evelyn Stein - Quiet Resource, Mac Quayle - Adagio in G Minor)

King: video game soundtracks, obviously. Might be some electro funk in there too, as a treat. (Recs: Metal Gear Solid 3 OST - Snake Eater, Mick Gordon - Rip and Tear, Xenoblade Chronicles OST - Main Theme, Persona 5 OST - Last Surprise, Daft Punk - Verdis Quo, Toby Fox - Hopes and Dreams, Disasterpeace - Prologue, iamthekidyouknowwhatimean - Run, Darren Korb - Old Friends)

Zombieman: Dad Music. Old rock that makes you wanna rail some lines of white thunder and dance on top of a car. He’d be reluctant to try out new stuff but does so nevertheless. Just a little bit of weird alternative here and there. (Recs: Poison - Unskinny Bop, Mötley Crüe - Dr. Feelgood, Black Sabbath - War Pigs, Def Leppard - Animal, CRX - Walls, MGMT - Little Dark Age, Pink Floyd - Money, Queens of the Stone Age - Villains of Circumstance)

Drive Knight: Dark synth, obviously. Need I say more? (Recs: El Tigr3 - She Swallowed Burning Coals, Trevor Something - Enjoy the Silence, Greg Drombrowski - Devour, GUNSHIP - Woken Furies, GUNSHIP - Thrasher, Carpenter Brut - Invasion A.D., Kavinsky - Nightcall)

Pig God: this guy probably just listens to ASMR of people eating food lol.

Superalloy Darkshine: Upbeat stuff that’s good for exercise; loving those new jams along with some of the old. He’s got a pretty groovy style. (Diane Ross - Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, Saint Motel - Puzzle Pieces, CRUISR - All Over, Barry White - Never, Never Gonna Give Ya Up, Sade - Kiss of Life)

Watchdog Man: 10 hour loop of wolves howling on a summer night.

Flashy Flash: classical. Some nice instrumentals to listen to while training. Stuff that preferably doesn’t have any or very little lyrics so it’s not too busy on his ears while he’s fantasizing about killing someone. (Recs: Vaughn Williams - The Lark Ascending, Debussy - Rêverie, Grieg - Peace of the Woods, André Laplante - Une Barque sur L’Ocean)

Metal Bat: Modern alternative. A little bit harder than say, Mumen and Kama, but not as hard as Zombieman or Death Gatling. He’s that middle ground where he’s still got some real bangers, but Zenko can listen as well. He’ll play this stuff loudly as he’s doing chores and working out, no headphones ever. It gets pretty annoying. (Recs: Foals - Exits, The Blue Stones - Black Holes, Solid Ground, CRX - Broken Bones, Jungle - Happy Man, The Strokes - Reptilia, We Are Trees - Girlfriend)

Genos: synth. But not just any synth, some heavy, fast-paced synth that’s just like him: speedy, relentless, and powerful. He listens to shit that’ll make you wanna get up and start killing Terminators. Probably. There’s some other synths in the mix too because we love a three-dimensional king. (Recs: Carpenter Brut - Division Ruine, The Protomen - I Still Believe, Carpenter Brut - Leather Teeth, Gunship - Tech Noir, TWRP - Phantom Racer, Le Castle Vania - Red Circle)

Tanktop Master: Dad music but the type of dad music that makes you think your dad was a sappy nerd back in the day. Long tracks that are good for workouts. (Tears for Fears - Woman in Chains, Pink Floyd - Us and Them, Duran Duran - Ordinary World, Billy Idol - Eyes without a Face, A Flock of Seagulls - I Ran, The Alan Parsons Project - Eye in the Sky, Tears for Fears - Sowing the Seeds of Love)

Puri-Puri Prisoner: Pop. Dance music. He doesn’t really get to listen to a lot of music in prison, so he holds on to whatever he can and savors every second of it. (Coldplay - Talk, Bruno Mars - Runaway Baby, Lady Gaga - Bad Romance, Flo Milli - Beef Flomix, Doja Cat - Say So)

Mumen Rider: Hes a lighthearted, soft boy. Likes some fluffy indie tunes. It helps to motivate him when working out or doing hero stuff. He might need to cry every once in a while though, so there’s some sad songs in the mix too. (Recs: Varsity - The Dogs Only Listen to Him, The The - This is the Day, Amarante - Don’t Look Back, Alvvays - Saved by a Waif, The Monkees - As We Go Along, Acid Ghost - Hide my Face, Mogwai - Take Me Somewhere Nice)

Sonic: same as Flash. He’s a little more hip with the times however, so he’s got some more groovy, electronic instrumentals to listen to in addition to some elegant stuff and isn’t opposed to having a little bit of lyrics sprinkled in there as well. In fact, he’s not opposed to uppity pop either. He thinks dancing is frivolous but he secretly does it when he thinks nobody is looking. (Additional Recs: Odesza - Bloom, Pretty Lights - One Day They’ll Know [Odesza Remix], BØRNS - Electric Love, Hembree - Culture, The Cinematic Orchestra - Arrival of the Birds)

Garou: same as Metal Bat. Bang let him have a little MP3 player during his time at the dojo and has since collected a few songs on there. They’re very near and dear to his heart since it’s one of the few good things that came from his absolute disaster of a childhood. (Additional Recs: Foals - Inhaler, CRX - Slow Down, Deep Sea Arcade - Close to Me, Gorillaz - Empire Ants, The Fratellis - Chelsea Dagger, Glass Animals - Take A Slice)

Death Gatling: Shit your old Vietnam-vet grandpa would blast on the back of his F150. He gives me self-righteous asshole vibes, if I’m honest. Like, don’t get me wrong, I like Death Gatling, but he seems like the type of trailer park-dwelling sewer rat to carry a revolver into a Walmart for “self defense” and that’s probably the type of music he listens to, too. (Recs: Megadeth - Trust, Megadeth - Angry Again, Creedence Clearwater Revival - Fortunate Son, Glen Campbell - Southern Nights, Mötley Crüe - Kickstart My Heart, Quiet Riot - Cum on Feel the Noize)

One-Shotter: I hard hc that he had an emo phase he never quite grew out of. He doesn’t quite listen to emo anymore but he’s still into that alternative shit. Homeboy also likes some slow tunes every once and a while because he’s an emotional dude who’s not afraid of a good cry. (Recs: Anything from Blink-182, Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know?, MGMT - When You Die, Mazzy Star - Fade Into You, Cigarettes After Sex - Dreaming of You, Yon Ort - Other Matter)

Lightning Max: Same as Genos but without the terminator-killing. Fast-paced stuff because he’s a fast lightning dude. A little more upbeat because he’s not as much as an edgelord as Genos, however. (Additional Recs: Carpenter Brut - Hang’em All, The Flaming Lips - Do You Realize, Worn Tin - Sensitivity, B.E.R. - The Night Begins to Shine, Martin Hall - Different Kind of Love)

Stinger: he’s all about that FUNK! Stuff that gets him moving! Stuff that makes him wanna dance! (Recs: Daft Punk - Doin’ it Right, TWRP - Body Image, Wild Cherry - Play that Funky Music, Chemise - She Can’t Love You, Saga - Wind Him Up, Saga - On the Loose, TWRP - All Night Forever)

Okamaitachi: they give me electro vibes! New, modern shit that’s good to dance to or to just sit down and have a listen! Also, some shit that’ll probably play in a coming-of-age teen movie or something. They don’t really vibe with heavy music and that’s alright, babey! Keeping it light and bouncy. (Recs: Tei Shi - Bassically, Varsity - Must Be Nice, Class Actress - Weekend, CHVRCHES - Richard Pryor, Alvvays - Marry Me, Archie, Sobs - Telltale Signs, Goth Babe - Sometimes, ALASKALASKA - Meateater)

Iaian: Nice, low tunes that are good for meditation and to be used for background noise during training sessions. He never really sits down to listen to music, it’s always in the background of something else he’s doing so he prefers to have some soft beats that don’t really interfere with his senses. Tunes so quiet, he sometimes uses them as lullabies; especially since the trauma of losing his arm has since made it hard to sleep. (Recs: Boy Scouts - Saddest Boy, Susanne Sundfør - Mantra, Vashiti Bunyan - If I Were the Same but Different, Starman Jr. - Blue Fairy, Patrick Watson - Je te Laisserai des Mots, Sibylle Baier - I Lost Something in the Hills)

Bushidrill: same as Atomic Samurai just without the shitty attitude. He’s happy to listen to some newer stuff, he just doesn’t like it and that’s okay, baby! Probably some classy shit your wise old grandpa would listen to. (Recs: Dean Martin - Volare, Dion - The Wanderer, Peppino Gagliardi - Che Vuole Questra Musica Stasera, anything from Luis Miguel lol, Franco Micalizzi - Sadness Theme)

Amai Mask: probably just listens to his own music like a putz. If not, he’s listening to the sound equivalent of glittering diamonds. He’s probably got this shit playing at the end of a long day while he’s chilling in a hot bath or something. (Recs: Fergie - Glamorous, Rita Ora - Hot Right Now, Lana Del Rey - Freak, Lana Del Rey - Art Deco, Tame Impala - Feels Like We Only Go Backwards)

Saitama: He doesn’t listen to music much anymore, sadly. He did, however, have a killer motivational mix to get him through his vigorous training prior to becoming a hero. (Recs: Paul Engemann - Push it to the Limit, Journey - Don’t Stop Believin’, College & Electric Youth - A Real Hero, Joe Esposito - You’re the Best Around, Survivor - Eye of the Tiger, The Bee Gees - Nights on Broadway)

Here’s the playlist with all of these songs in order (mostly):

It’s on YouTube because I’m allergic to Spotify. I’ve got a doctor’s note. Also, all of my other playlists are on my little profile thingy so if you want to listen to my pile then go right ahead.

Thanks for your ask, my dude! ❤️ this took up ALL of my energy lol but it was fun.

[papermoonloveslucy]

THE JIMMY DURANTE SHOW

“Women in Industry” ~ April 28, 1948

“The Jimmy Durante Show” aired on NBC from October 1, 1947 to June 30, 1950. It was a continuation of the NBC / CBS radio series “The Durante-Moore Show” after Garry Moore left when he was offered his own show on CBS Television. The series originally starred with recurring guest stars Peggy Lee and Florence Halop. In its last season, actor and personality Alan Young was brought in as Durante's straight man.  At the end of the 1947-48 season, the show was tied for the number 7 show on the air along with “Philco Radio Time” on ABC and “Dr. Christian” on CBS. The show managed to stay in the top ten throughout its entire run. The series ended in June 1950 after Durante made a move to television with a starring role on NBC's “Four Star Revue.” 

The program was televised at Club Durant. Each episode usually ended with Durante's catchphrase, "Good night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are!", an apparent reference to Durante's deceased first wife. This program was sponsored by Rexall Drugs. It was produced and directed by Phil Cohan.

Synopsis ~ Jimmy and guest Lucille Ball tour the country to see how women fit into American industry. 

CAST

Jimmy Durante (Host)  was a multi-talented performer who was distinguished by his bulbous nose. In “Lucy Meets Harpo Marx” (ILL S4;E28) Lucy Ricardo dons a novelty store mask and trench coat to impersonate Durante for a nearsighted Carolyn Appleby. His classic profile was featured on “I Love Lucy” when Lucy goes to the Hollywood Brown Derby, where his caricature takes up two frames above her booth. Lucille Ball has an uncredited role in his 1935 film Carnival. In “Lucy Goes to a Hollywood Premiere” (TLS S4;E20) on February 7, 1966, Durante makes a cameo appearance accompanied by his wife, Margie Little. 

Lucille Ball (Guest Star) had previously been on Durante’s radio show on October 29, 1947. She had played an uncredited role in his film Carnival in 1935.  Ball was just a few months from staring her radio series “My Favorite Husband,” which launched in July 1948.  Her film Her Husband’s Affairs was in theatres. At the time of this broadcast she was filming Sorrowful Jones with Bob Hope. 

Peggy Lee (Regular Cast) was a singer and actress who, like Lucille Ball, was also born in Jamestown - but in North Dakota, not New York.  Lee was a Grammy-winning singer and composer. 

Roy Bargy and his Orchestra (Music)

The Crew Chiefs (Singers)

Howard Petrie (Announcer) would appear with Lucille Ball in Fancy Pants (1950). 

Victor Moore, usually part of the cast, is not in this episode. 

EPISODE

Announcer Howard Petrie opens with a few bars of his signature songs “Inka Dinka Doo” and “You Gotta Start Off Each Day with a Song.”  Petrie and Durante talk about the wedding of the year: Lana Turner to Bob Topping. Durante says that he picked out her torso. Petrie corrects him saying her ‘trousseau’ cost her $30,000. Durante says he picked out her wedding gown, especially the train.    

DURANTE: “It wasn’t an ordinary train. Lana was wearing the Super Chief!” 

Lana Turner married Henry 'Bob’ Topping Jr. on April 26, 1948, just two days before this broadcast. He was her third husband, but she would marry four more times in her life! 

Durante jokes about President Truman throwing out the first ball at the Washington Senators first game. Durante sings the novelty song “I’ll Never Forget the Day I Read a Book.” 

After a Rexall commercial, Durante introduces Lucille Ball. Lucy talks about making Sorrowful Jones with Bob Hope. Durante is jealous of Hope’s nose!

LUCY: “When it comes to noses, he’s a retailer. You’re a wholesaler.”

Lucy wants to get down to the reason for her visit: woman in industry. They travel into the future to see how things might be different if women were captains of industry.

In the future, Lucy comes home from the office and Jimmy is doing housework. The banter is classic domestic role reversal. Lucy compliments him on his housekeeping.  

Back in the present, Lucy and Durante introduce Peggy Lee. Lucy says her gown is an original by Schiaparelli. Peggy says hers is by Hattie Carnegie. 

Before coming to Hollywood, Lucille Ball was a model for Hattie Carnegie in New York. 

LUCY: “The shoes are by Capezio, the handbag is an Evans creation, and the hat is by John Frederick.” DURANTE: “Notice they didn’t say anything about Adrian, who’s spending every moment whipping up my new spring halter.”

Peggy Lee sings “It’s the Sentimental Thing To Do”. 

After another Rexall commercial, Peggy and Lucy are still interested in pursuing women in industry.  Jimmy, Peggy, and Lucy sing “Any State in the 48″ as they take a magic carpet around the country.  

First stop: Milwaukee, Wisconsin to visit the Shultz Pickle Works.  Mr. Schultz mistakes Durante’s nose for a cucumber.  They are curious to know if the pickle industry would be good for women. Lucy tries a pickle to see if it will make her pucker. While she is puckered, the phones rings and it is Governor Folsom of Alabama asking Durante to keep Lucy ‘puckered up’ till he gets there! 

On March 3, 1948, Governor Jim Folsom's name was in headlines across the nation when the 30-year-old Christine Johnston, a widow who had met Folsom in late 1944 while she was working as a cashier at the Tutwiler Hotel in Birmingham, filed a paternity suit against the governor by alleging that he was the father of her 22-month-old son. Nine days after the suit was filed Folsom appeared on the sidewalk in front of the Barbizon Modeling School in New York City, where he kissed a hundred pretty models who had voted him "The Nation's Number One Leap Year Bachelor." Johnston dropped the suit for a cash settlement. Years later, he admitted that he was indeed the father of Johnston's child. On May 5, 1948, Folsom married 20-year-old Jamelle Moore, a secretary at the state Highway Department, whom he had met during his 1946 campaign and had been dating and seeing "almost daily" since then.

Next stop: Paris, Illinois. They are visiting the second largest perfume factory in the country, owned by Hot Breath Houlihan. 

DURANTE: “Now I know who set B.O. Plenty’s house on fire!” 

B.O. Plenty was a character from Dick Tracy comic strip by Chester Gould. In March 1948, his house mysteriously burned down and everyone feared the character was dead. Readers actually wrote to the newspaper begging Gould not to kill off B.O. Plenty and Gravel Gertie! 

Houlihan sells perfumes named Abandon, Yield, Retreat, and Surrender.

DURANTE: “Haven’t you got something with a bit more will power?” 

Houlihan says she became a success by developing a perfume called Go Away Henry Wallace.  

HOULIHAN: “When a girl is sitting on the sofa with her boyfriend, she don’t want a third party!” 

Henry Wallace was the 33rd vice president of the United States. He was also the presidential nominee of the left-wing Progressive Party in the 1948 election.

Last stop: Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. They visit a steel factory and talk to the head man (who is obviously voiced by a female).  She says that women have no place in the steel industry.  But Lucille convinces her otherwise, and they conclude their magic carpet tour of the USA.  

[recentanimenews]

J-Novel Club Licenses Slayers, Holmes of Kyoto, and More

  Light novel and manga distributor J-Novel Club were on hand today for Anime Expo Lite, the West Coast convention's answer to the current social distancing measures in place. During their industry panel, they rolled out an exciting slate of 13 light novel and manga titles, some of which are available to start right now on their website if you're a JNC member!

  Here's the full list of new titles:

  The Bloodline

publishing first on J-Novel Club

  After the fall of civilization, a hierarchical society was born where blood determines everything. The rich steal both the blood and lifespans of the poor, rejoicing in their now-eternal lives.

Nagi is a commoner fated to die, while Saya is royalty, gifted with eternal youth. When fate brings their unlikely paths together, their innocent love set the gears in motion to tear down the walls of a society built upon tremendous inequality and racial discrimination.

  Slayers

Beautiful and brilliant sorcerer girls just can't have nice things, huh? All I wanted to do was swipe a little bit of bandit treasure. Now suddenly I'm being chased around by icky trolls, nasty demons, mean mummies, and brooding golem bad boys. And for what? A tiny little artifact that can bring about the end of the world? Hah! I'll show them there's a reason you don't cross Lina Inverse…

  Start reading now

I Love Yuri and I Got Bodyswapped with a Fujoshi! (manga adaptation)

Meet Reiji Yoshida: a yuri otaku that loves yuri more than anything else in the world. All he wants is to enjoy his hobby in peace, but trouble ensues when he crosses paths with Mitsuru Hoshina, a fujoshi who is obsessed with boys’ love. Hijinks ensue, and a vengeful ghost residing in their school’s manga club swaps their bodies!

Polar opposites in both personalities and hobbies clash in this exciting first volume—follow the adventures of their comedic body swap experiences!

  Start reading now

My Instant Death Ability is So Overpowered, No One in This Other World Stands a Chance Against Me!

Awaking to absolute chaos and carnage while on a school trip, Yogiri Takatou discovers that everyone in his class has been transported to another world! He had somehow managed to sleep through the entire ordeal himself, missing out on the Gift — powers bestowed upon the others by a mysterious Sage who appeared to transport them. Even worse, he and another classmate were ruthlessly abandoned by their friends, left as bait to distract a nearby dragon.

  Although not terribly bothered by the thought of dying, he reluctantly decides to protect his lone companion. After all, a lowly Level 1000 monster doesn't stand a chance against his secret power to invoke Instant Death with a single thought! If he can stay awake long enough to bother using it, that is…

Start reading now

WATARU!!! The Hot-Blooded Fighting Teen & His Epic Adventures in a Fantasy World After Stopping a Truck with His Bare Hands!!

It's a wonderful day for Wataru Ito, high school student, master martial artist, honorable and humble teenager, and all-around awesome guy. During his daily run to school he happened to get hit by a large truck barreling around a corner.

Not that this is the kind of event that would be the end of the likes of Wataru, of course, but when a truck runs into you, you get sent to another world. That's just the way things are sometimes. Still, Wataru's not about to take this kind of thing lying down! The first thing he sets out to do is find who's the toughest hombre in this land and go up against the greatest challenges this new world has to offer!

Oh, and the greatest fighter in this place also happens to be the Demon Lord who is kidnapping people all across the kingdom in an attempt to wipe out humanity? Even better! Wataru's main interest is in facing a tough battle; saving the world in the process is just icing on the cake!

Start reading now

Record of Wortenia War (manga)

Ryoma Mikoshiba, an ordinary high-schooler adept at martial arts, one day finds himself summoned to another world. The ones who summoned him, the O’ltormea Empire, cite the fact that 'when those summoned kill another living being, they can absorb a fraction of their strength and make it their own' as their reason. But upon learning the empire uses those they summon to strengthen themselves by foul means, Ryoma is consumed by hatred and slays an important member of the O’ltormean court.

Attempting to escape the Empire's borders while keeping his identity a secret, he is accosted by two twin sisters— one golden-haired, the other silver-haired— in a meeting that sets the gears of fate in motion. The curtain rises on a record of the wars of a young supreme ruler in this other world fantasy!

  Start reading now

A Lily Blooms in Another World

a J-Novel Heart title

Miyako Florence isn’t sad when her fiancée breaks off their engagement after two years. It’s all according to plan! Whisked to the world of her favorite otome game, Miyako frees herself from a dull noble to pursue her true soulmate: the game’s villainess Fuuka Hamilton. Proud Fuuka only has eyes for their mutual ex-fiancée! Miyako confesses her love to Fuuka and proposes that they run away together.

Fuuka agrees on one condition: Miyako must make her say “I’m happy” in 14 days. With conniving nobles, strange diseases, and magical rituals pulling them apart, can Miyako win the villainess’s heart? A tentative bud blossoms in this twisting romance from the author of Sexiled: My Sexist Party Leader Kicked Me Out, So I Teamed Up With a Mythical Sorceress!

Start reading now

Mapping: The Trash-Tier Skill That Got Me into a Top-Tier Party

  Note Athlon was really looking forward to becoming an adventurer with his best friend (and crush) Miya. That is, until he drew Mapping—a rare skill with practically no purpose. In other words, it’s trash. This kicks off a vicious spiral for Note, who plummets further and further into the depths of self-loathing despair when Miya leaves him. He now spends his days drinking away his earnings, wondering how things might have been different if only he’d pulled a better skill...

But little does he know his trash-tier skill is about to score him an invite to a top-tier adventuring party! Note’s now determined to find his way through life—and a dungeon!—in order to make something of himself.

  Start reading now

Mapping: The Trash-Tier Skill That Got Me into a Top-Tier Party (manga adaptation)

  Start reading now

The Sorcerer's Receptionist

a J-Novel Heart title

  In a world of everyday magic, Nanalie has always dreamed of becoming a receptionist at the prestigious Sorcerer's Guild. To achieve her goal, she needs to attend a magic school full of princes and the daughters of nobles. Determined to prove that a commoner can be the number one student, she must compete with Rockmann, the son of a duke. When she graduates, she lands her dream job and they go their separate ways.

Nanalie enjoys spending each day alongside her familiar Lala and her kind co-workers, but it seems that fate won’t let her escape her entanglement with Rockmann that easily...

  Start reading now

Black Summoner

Waking up in a strange new place with no memory of his past life, Kelvin learns that he’s bartered away those very memories in exchange for powerful new abilities during his recent transmigration. Heading out into a whole new world as a Summoner — with his first Follower being the very goddess who brought him over! — Kelvin begins his new life as an adventurer, and it isn’t long before he discovers his hidden disposition as a battle junkie.

From the Black Knight of the Ancient Castle of Evil Spirits to the demon within the Hidden Cave of the Sage, he revels in the fight against one formidable foe after another. Join this OP adventurer in an exhilarating and epic saga as he and his allies carve their way into the annals of history!

  Start reading now

Black Summoner (manga)

Start reading now

Holmes of Kyoto

a J-Novel Heart title

    Half a year after moving to Kyoto, high school girl Aoi Mashiro brings her late grandfather’s old scrolls to Kura, an antique store nestled in Kyoto’s Teramachi-Sanjo shopping arcade, for an appraisal. One thing leads to another, and she winds up working there part-time. The manager’s son, Kiyotaka Yagashira—nicknamed the “Holmes of Kyoto”—is uncannily perceptive, and together, they solve strange cases relating to the antiques brought to them by clients.

  Start reading now

    >> J-Novel Club Website

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[hallmark-movie-fanatics]

Hallmark Movie Spotlight

The Magic Of Ordinary Days (2005)

Based on the novel by Ann Howard Creel.

Directed by Brent Shields.

Written/adapted by Camille Thomasson.

Starring Keri Russell, Skeet Ulrich, Mare Winningham, Tania Gunadi, Gwendoline Yeo, and Eric Winter.

Originally aired January 30, 2005 on CBS, part of Hallmark Hall of Fame.

Synopsis:

1944. World War II. Denver. Livy Dunne has essentially been thrown out of her home by her stern father, Rev. Dunne, because she’s pregnant and unmarried. She’s banished to rural Colorado, to go through an arranged marriage to a lonely farmer, so her child will have a “father.” When she arrives in tiny Wilson, Colorado, Livy and her “betrothed,” gentle but strong Ray Singleton, are wary around each other. Worldly Livy is bored by Ray and the hardscrabble life he leads --despite his inherent goodness and wisdom. As the months pass Lily learns more about this calm, practical, self-effacing farmer and his sister Martha – “a queen among women” – and her family. Slowly almost imperceptibly, Livy realizes she may have found “home,” quite accidentally. For his part, Ray becomes a regular visitor at the town library, reading the classics so he can converse intelligently with his educated wife. Livy befriends two Japanese-American girls who have been interned with their parents at a nearby camp; Florence and Rose are smart and beautiful. They end up teaching Livy a valuable lesson about life and love.Livy has her baby, elects to stay with Ray, and as she tells her sister-in-law, “I’ve learned more about love in my six months with this family than in the 25 in my father’s home.”