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broomsticks · 2 years ago

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HP fic rec list: underrated gems of 2022

AO3 collection here. mostly ultra rare pairs, gen fic, character studies, and G/T rated fic. all are short <10k-ish reads (plenty of <1k ficlets) - do give them a read if any look interesting!

transports of delight by @swoontodeath (1.7k, G). The Knight Bus meets the Catbus. Sometimes destiny looks a lot like driving in the same direction.

pairing: Knight Bus (Harry Potter)/Catbus (My Neighbor Totoro). come for the crack ship, stay for the autistic stan shunpike. i’m a sucker for outsider POV and this is why — such great opportunity for some unique characterization, which this author took full advantage of here!

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Life of Pye by @houseofhebrideanblacks (9k, E). Augustus Pye sees patients at St. Mungo's.

SUCH a creative unique fic - love it when authors take their deep IRL expertise and weave it into the canon HP verse. as the author put it, for anyone curious about what a nonmagical doctor sounds like writing about what they imagine magical medicine is like, day in and day out.

“It’s Puddlemere versus the Cannons tonight. The cup final.” Pye stopped mid-stride and mid-thought, shoulders seeming to weep under the weight of realisation. “Oh no,” he almost whispered. “Oh yes,” Marge glowered, “and you’re alone tonight, Rupert is off sick.” “Good heavens,” Pye whimpered, his coffee seeming to shrink in his hand, both in potency and relevance. In the waiting room behind him, three blokes hurricaned in chanting “CANNONS, CANNONS, CANNONS,” their unconscious friend slumped and dragged between them. “You know how it is, Pye,” Marge turned and shuffled back to validate the young witch’s national insurance card. Speaking over her shoulder, she finished, “never a dull moment at Mungo’s.”

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Strangers In A Strange Land by @sleepstxtic (7.5k words, T). Helga, Salazar, and Godric dock in a strange land looking for the elusive fourth member of their team.

helga/rowena, founders friendship with POC Rowena Ravenclaw and Viking Helga Hufflepuff. CANON NODS and POC REP and FEMSLASH and a wonderful fascinating setting — ticks every single one of my AU boxes. another incredibly inventive and criminally underrated story.

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A Different Truth by @paulamcg (2.8k, G). A week before Halloween 1993, when a colleague appreciates his company, Cuthbert may feel alive, even though he's dead and it's Saturday.

ok this is the last time i will say criminally underrated. canon-compliant POA first person cuthbert binns & remus lupin. this could’ve been slash and i would’ve been sold on it. i love their friendship, bonding over literature (of course) and a walk in the woods (so unexpected, but works so well.)

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Meagre Pieces by @vdoshu (1k words, T). The Muggle-born Registration Commission is announced, and Andromeda feels sick.

The fact that the first Muggle-born Minister for Magic was a great victory for equality . . . one which was never again repeated.

@thistlecatfics’s trans teddy tonks x andromeda is taking over the world and i’m here for it. the political commentary in this. doshu you absolute wizard — you’ve got such range and you nail it every. single. time.

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O let the world come at you, love (currently anonymous) (5k, T). Twelve-year-old Harry tries to figure out his parents' polyamorous relationship with Peter Pettigrew.

the first fic for the peter/lily/james tag on AO3, gifted to me for this year’s rare pairs exchange, and it’s all the wholesome fluff i i could’ve wanted from this ship and more!!! so much poly rep!! background wolfstar+tonks (ish), dorlene+implied others, and just the perfect epilogue 🥰

"Does it bother you that your parents are with Pete?" Sirius asked. "No! I know they're polymers."

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Nirmal by @crazybutgood (2.8k, G).

postwar cho/padma. i ADORE this fic. there are literally LINKS to all the places and foods and songs mentioned, it’s an ENTIRE immersive multimedia experience in 3k words - a beautiful and horrendously underappreciated fic, imo.

hawa paani ka badlaav hona chahiye—A change in atmosphere is often needed to improve one's health or state of mind. Literally, a change in the winds, and the water. Parvati quoted that saying to us one evening last month, suggesting that it would be good for Cho and me. My parents knew that I had been with Cho for just over a year then, and welcomed her to stay with us after the Battle … Cho actually looked interested at the idea and suggested our home countries for a month each. And so, we’re currently visiting Mumbai first, staying in a Muggle area at my Muggle maushi’s place, in July—during the monsoon season.

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a heart the size of jupiter (a smile like the sun) by gghostish (300 words, G, no archive warnings).

linny, epileptic luna lovegood. such a lovely achy hurty little thing ❤️

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métamorphoses by @venom0usbarbie (5k, M). The blood curse took her grandmother. And now, she has to pay the piper if she doesn't want it to take her too.

astoria greengrass-centric, astoria & hermione (gen/possible pre-relationship). this fic wow. where do i begin!! the descriptive writing. the angsty family feels. the way barbie writes the blurring of thoughts and feelings and emotions into physical sensations is harrowingly good. check out everything else by her if you liked this, her style is inimitable.

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wood-rush and wildflowers by @nanneramma (500 words, G). Lily has a secret, and it's time to tell Petunia.

wonderful little canon compliant alternate character POV vignette, gorgeous writing. also reccing this horrorific pansy/tom (ad te omnis caro veniet, 1.3k, M), this gorgeously sad canon-compliant alice & neville (gaps, 300, G), and every single one of nan’s summer femslash double drabbles!

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covered in your ivy by @girl-with-goats (1.5k, M).

smutty BDSM remus/lily with planty metaphors that just work so well for this pairing!

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I Always Underestimate You by @patriceavril (10k, M).

sirius & lily friendship! multi-era, canon compliant, sirius/mary and jily. i love the way patrice characterizes this friendship -- it’s not always easy, and that’s why it feels so earned!

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Madam Smith by @lumosatnight (200 words, G). HOKEY/WINKY! SO charming and sweet and lovely and fluffy.

A Bleak Midwinter by @bluesundaycake (500, T). A Fenrir Greyback character study. feel sorry for baby fenrir thank you bye <3

Pray by @krethes (300, T). A Hope Lupin character study. yes hello hi read and CRY WITH ME

The Prince's Poems by @inmyownlittlecorner5. seven poems, misc formats. this author writes the most enthralling snape, and making it poetry is just !!! unfair. such powerful writing in so few words.

#my fic recs #harry potter fanfiction #hp fics #fic rec list #hp rare pairs

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endlessly-cursed · 2 years ago

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Founder’s Era- Henriette of Wessex

"𝙋𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣."

Name: Henriette of Wessex

Nicknames: TBD

Birthdate: 2nd of May, 966 AD

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Personality Type (MBTI): TBD

Blood Status: Muggleborn

Nationality: Anglo-Saxon (British)

Physical Appearance

Hair: Golden blonde

Eyes: Blue

Height: 1.58m

Weight: 62kg

Body Type: Slim

Skin Tone: Fair

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): None

Background

Hometown

Henriette grew up in a small part of what would become an impressive manor of Winbourne, which was by then a small fort built during the times of Charlemagne, though she grew up as a lady-in-waiting to Emma of Normandy, Queen of England and wife of Aethelred the Unready and Cnut the Great. She grew up in the lap of luxury.

Family

Mother: Dorothea of Bristol ‘the Belle’

A beautiful and traditional Anglo-Saxon woman, she was the daughter of warrior Aelfgifu of Kent and Aeldestan the Boneless, and after a relative peace, she was allowed to have a regular raising in the traditions of Anglo-Saxon England. She was beautiful, talented, smart and a young healthy woman. She was soon married to a wealthy landowner as well, and though she did her best to conceive a son, the only child that survived out of twelve pregnancies was Henriette. She gave her an over-the-top education, and when she knew it was time she married, she did so... with an incredible alliance with Denmark with the help of Queen Emma

Father: Marcus the Spineless

A savvy, power-hungry, smart and smart warrior, he was a loyal servant of Aethelred the Unready and was one of his closest advisors, for he had one of the best educations in England, which landed him a match with the beautiful Dorothea as a gift from the king. He proved to be also very cunning, for when Aethelred died and Edmund followed, he was one of the first lords to subdue to Cnut and was ready to serve him as loyally. Under his rule, he thrived and his connections helped him marry his only child to a man worthy of his name and glory, and would be behind his grandchildren’s great matches...

Hogwarts

House: Hufflepuff

Mirror of Erised: Herself, married and making amends with Betwixt

Amortentia (what she smells like): pine wood, perfume of the time, expensive soap, rosemary and lavender

Amortentia (what she smells): TBD

Career

8-18: Lady-in-waiting to Queen Emma of Normandy

19-22: Ally and advisor to Helga Hufflepuff

23-Death: Lady of Winbourne

Personality & Attitude

Priorities: Her loved one’s safety, her position at court, being happy

Strengths: Kind, smart, can be cunning, perspicacious and generous

Weaknesses: Naive, hard on herself and always aims for perfection

Stressed: During her pregnancies, when there’s conflict

Calm/Comforted: In Freddie’s arms

Favorites

Colors: Golden, purple, red, white and black

Weather: Sunny, with a bit of breeze

Hobbies: Sewing, dancing, reading, riding and singing

Fashion: Henriette dresses to the late fashion, and dresses in rich silks of white, yellow and blue

Relationships

Significant Other/Love Interest: Geirmund Eriksson, later known as Frederick of Kent ( @that-scouse-wizard )

Frederick was a Danish man, son of Vikings and a Viking himself, who also suffered losses on St. Brice’s Day, and grew up resentful of the king. When he was older, as an alliance proposed by King Cnut himself, he was offered for a wife the wealthy, beautiful and intelligent Henriette, who was the favourite at court of Queen Emma, whom he viewed better than her first husband.

When he arrived in British soil, he was converted to Roman Catholicism by the Archbishop of Canterbury himself, and changed his name from Geirmund to the English-sounding (but with Danish roots) name Frederick, adopting as well his future wife’s land, Wessex. As commanded by the king of Denmark, whom he himself was a favourite of, he was to establish the alliance with several children. The dowry on Henriette’s one made him a wealthy man, which provided nearly a million shillings, rich English clothing, many animals such as cows, horses, sheep, among many others, 120 servants, jewels fit for a lord, weapons, as well as rare goods of the time.

MORE TBD

Friends: Monarch Betwixt ( @hphmmatthewluther )

Despite Betwixt being on Salazar’s side, they were thoroughly impressed by Henriette: not only she was a beauty, she was smart on her own right, perspicacious and the best of it: she didn’t aim for something greater. She genuinely wanted to do something good for the world, and her kidness and loving nature made him fall for her, though it was mostly one-sided on the romantic side.

Betwixt became her shadow, something greater and bigger than a best friend, beyond the carnal desire of a lover and the romantic emotions of a husband, theirs was an incredible connection and could speak with one another better than anyone.

But this friendship wasn’t approved by many, and their enemies spread rumours that they were indeed lovers and that they may even have had a secret child, though nothing is yet to be proven nowadays. Even after Henriette’s several pregnancies, in which contemporaries of the day agreed that they resembled Frederick greatly, many still hoped to find an explanation to such a complex relationship.

After Henriette married Frederick, Betwixt left, dejected, to Spain, where he found love while Henriette plunged herself in a succession of constant motherhood and pregnancies.

Rivals: None. Why would you want to antagonise this woman?!

Trivia

Henriette can play the fiddle, the cithara and the flute

She also knows Danish, especially after she marries Frederick

She’s also an excellent dancer

She has such a soothing voice, she often recites the Holy Bible for the queen

She became aware of Betwixt’s departure the same day she learnt of her first pregnancy

She never once admitted on having slept with Betwixt, and swore to the Archbishop before her wedding that she had always been a maid, and Betwixt had never touched her

Her mother didn’t approve of Betwixt and tried to bribe them several times to leave her, which they declined

She ended up having a loving relationship with Frederick, and soon sort of took Betwixt’s place, though their connection wasn’t as big, but he was certainly the love of her life

Her descendants would found the House of Somerset in the 1300s

She had more daughters than sons, and they all made auspicious matches, especially with the help of her father, wanting to ally himself with as many lords as he could

#founder's era #founder's era oc #oc: henriette of wessex #frederick of kent #frederick eriksson #henriette x frederick #henriette x betwixt #betwixt the changeling #hufflepuff #oc sheet #character profile

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yukiwrites · 7 months ago

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The Duchess and the King

Thank you for the support and the patience, @mistressofdeathsblog! I hope you like it~ Beware ye who enters for the sin!

Summary: To Claude, competence and wit were much more attractive than simple beauty. As long as someone was good at what they did and had a good head on their shoulders, he wanted to keep that person near, if only to help with his future plans. When the person is both competent, beautiful and interesting, however, matters could get a little more personal...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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Selene Helga Beaumont. A minor noble prior to the war, who governed the people under her fairly and justly. Although small and located near the mountains, her territory prospered greatly with her as the head — she prioritized trade, road constructions, fair pay and sturdy buildings made to last through the worst of the Faerghus blizzards.

During the war, seeing as how her lands were located southwest to Fhirdiad, she soon saw her people engulfed in battle as the frontlines receded and the neighboring lords defected to the Empire. Her people were sturdy, as it was the norm with any Faerghus native, but they were not built for war. Her policies focused heavily on trade, mutual cooperation and human resources.

Thus, she led her people out once it was clear that there was no maintaining the status quo during the war. Although that was the land they had been born and raised for generations, such was Selene’s charisma and leadership that the evacuation proceeded smoothly — the people believed that, as long as they were following her lead, they would come back and rebuild.

At the end of the war, her once small territory saw an explosive expansion — over three times the previous size — the corrupt nobles were destitute of their positions, allowing the Crown to distribute them amongst the remaining lords. The Beaumont House amassed a few nearby territories, thereafter being known as a Duchy, second in size only to Fraldarius.

Rightfully so, Selene’s workload increased by a hundredfold, but she welcomed the challenge.

The now Duchess saw that the development of her land took priority over anything else — there was a need to build schools non-reliant on the Church, as the new Archbishop decreeted; medical facilities; more investment on mining and a proper regulation on hunting for rare furs… Truly, her work was basically endless.

Not only that, she also had added duties as a higher noble — her gaze should not go solely inwards, but also towards Faerghus, nay, towards the new Unified Kingdom of Fódlan, as a whole. Her votes and ideas at the State meetings had brought many improvements to the post-war chaos.

Her deeds had not gone unnoticed, nor inside their borders, nor outside.

Exponential growth, however, could also be detrimental to a land — especially to a lord.

There were trade routes that needed to be prioritized, deals that needed careful examination not to bankrupt the Duchy’s coffers, not to mention the increasing appearance of Almyran commodities as the Kingdom saw fit to open trade with their neighbors.

Selene, as a Duchess of Fódlan and as a lord of her territory, had been chosen to formalize the trade between countries. The fate of the everlasting peace with Almyra — whom Fódlan had had much strife against for centuries — hung on her shoulders.

It felt as if she worked better during wartime. She excelled in making short-time decisions, those that were needed for survival rather than for continuity, despite having been working towards that goal from the start. It was simply that now, years after the war had ended and the economy headed towards a stalemate, she felt that there was much more at stake than before.

Still, it was her duty to see this trade going through, so she would see to it no matter what.

Selene studied almyran customs so as not to commit any social faux pas, and practiced them during the month-long trip it took from Faerghus to Almyra.

The moment she stepped out of the carriage at their destination, Selene widened her eyes in awe at the sandy splendor all around her. The buildings were multicolored, sported round rooftops and had many small windows to allow the air to circulate; the streets were molded after the terrain instead of beating the earth down to accommodate the buildings, allowing a multiple-story city, with a central path leading to the castle.

Of course, she tried not to show such child-like wonder in her face as much she could, but there was no hiding the glint in her eye at the inspirational structures all around her. Still, she conducted herself properly down to her garments — she had procured almyran dresses, specifically ones that hid most of the body and hair, so she could display a clear intent of bridge-making — when she greeted the King of Unification, Khalid, himself.

“Duchess Selene Helga Beaumont greets his Majesty the King,” she curtsied, lowering her head in the perfect angle.

Claude, who had come out to the gates to greet her, flashed a mysterious smile before nodding. “Lift your head, Duchess. Come, come, let us not be strained by formalities. We greet ourselves as friends on this day, don’t we?” He winked at her once their eyes met, making her furrow her brow, but nod in acceptance.

“... Of course, Your Majesty.”

“You all as well,” Claude looked over Selene’s shoulder to her entourage. “We’ve a feast prepared for our guests, let’s not cook in this sun more than we have to!” He warmly welcomed the red-in-the-face knights and attendants, most hailing from Faerghus and unaccustomed to the heat, let alone the scorching almyran sun.

That was all that it took. Thirty seconds and a smile from Khalid for all of them to let their guards down and be swept by his rhythm.

He had used that tactic since moving to Fódlan as a child, but it was always amusing how it kept working even well into adulthood.

The Duchess, however, kept her cool despite being clearly covered in sweat under the hijab. She smiled politely and took Khalid’s outstretched hand as they went up the stairs towards the castle.

“It’s an honor to finally meet the fabled Duchess Selene in the flesh,” he said in an exaggerated tone, watching her reaction with the corner of his eyes. “It’s almost like meeting a celebrity, honestly. Have you ever met with a favorite actor or bard? It’s the same feeling.”

“I’m afraid I’ve had few of such experiences, Your Majesty, though I am certain that you are truthful in your words,” she refuted without missing a beat, lowering her gaze so as not to look the King directly in the eye.

“Haha, then by all means you must accompany me when I slip out of the castle next time. There’s this traveling troupe playing a world famous adaptation of the book ‘How to make him fall for you in a fortnight’. It’s hilariously good.”

Selene’s hand on his flinched at the mention of ‘slipping out of one’s duties’ but no such emotions showed on her face — not that the action went unnoticed, however. She, overwhelmed with the pressure to make this trade succeed at all costs, overheated by this hellish climate and intent on doing whatever it took to stay in Claude’s good graces while still maintaining her composure, simply smiled coyly.

“By all means, should Your Majesty invite them over, I am certain that they would be delighted to perform. Naturally, I would be delighted to accompany you then.”

Khalid smirked at her proper rebuttal, biting his lower lip to avoid licking them.

Her reputation preceded her, truly. She was even more interesting in person.

Not a single thing felt out of place in her: perfect manners, perfect speech, perfect rebuttals, even the way she respectfully avoided looking him in the eye. Not only that, she was also a talented individual whose ideas had been used throughout Fódlan during its post-war rebuilding effort.

Even while her territory tripled in size, she still managed to keep it all together while looking ever so forward.

There was no way to overlook such a capable person.

During the welcoming party, as a distinguished guest, Duchess Selene was the one who sat closest to the King, a few steps below him with his immediate family separating them.

It made for the perfect angle for Claude to observe her during it all.

She sat on top of her legs as if she had done so her whole life, though Claude was looking forward to when her legs would fall asleep and she would need to change positions. Would her mask fall then? It was so interesting!

When she first took a bite of their food, her face immediately lit up, then caught on fire from the amount of spice characteristic of their cuisine. She choked for a bit, fumbling in front of her for a glass of water before gulping it all down in one go. She even stuck her tongue a bit as if it had hurt her physically, while looking around to pretend that everything was okay.

Khalid shook in glee, hiding his laugh under one hand.

More and more interesting!

He watched as Selene followed the norm with claps as the dancers entered the hall, then how she glared at the food she had already put on her plate as if she could purge the spiciness out of it with her eyes alone. Again he snorted a laugh, but in the organized chaos of the party, no one noticed.

Selene steeled herself to eating more of what she had already chosen for herself, asking a nearby servant to bring a new jug of water. Sure, she had read that their food had a stronger taste than the one she was used to, but to think that it would be that much stronger…

There were children, teens and women slender than her gobbling that food up without batting an eye; it even made her wonder if only her portion was that spicy, but it could not have been. The way they all shared the same food was commonplace in Almyra. There was a long table filled with large platters of mostly bite-sized food scattered about, and each took whatever they wanted to eat on their plate.

Unaccustomed to eating with her hands as opposed with the numerous utensils she had grown used to from her noble upbringing, Selene was having a difficult time in adapting, but she wasn’t about to give up just because she was a bit awkward eating their food.

Besides, they had been provided plenty of forks, knives and spoons in consideration to the difference in their table etiquette, but Selene wanted to properly show her willingness to adhere to their customs, so she would, from here on after, do everything in the almyran way.

That meant, however, eating their spicy food.

She glared at her plate, cursing her past self from taking one of each treat. Still, she was resolved.

It took the whole night and two jugs of water, but she managed to eat it all. Some were sweet, some were spicy, so Selene was able to balance out the flavors in a way that most definitely destroyed her sense of taste for the foreseeable future.

In one of her many trips to the toilet, Selene saw Claude at the corridor, sitting on a balustrade as he looked up at the moon. As night fell, so did the temperature, to a comfortable degree to one born in Faerghus as herself, so her mind felt a bit clearer than it had been earlier in the day.

“Duchess Selene greets His Majesty—” she started curtsying, but Khalid’s gesture stopped her midway.

“No need for such formality, Duchess. You’ve greeted me today, already.”

“Still, I must show due respect,” she said without lifting her head. Khalid sighed, but couldn’t hide his amused expression.

“Sure, sure. Consider me greeted. Now off you go, I’m sure all that water’s gotten you quite distressed already.”

“...!” Selene lifted her head in a flash, her cheeks bright red and her eyes like a surprised kitten. “I— I must, well, you see. Your Majesty…!” She stuttered, looked around and tried to find her long lost composure, then turned to scolding. “That was not— This isn’t appropriate—” she huffed, then turned on her heel and left. “Good night to you!”

Watching her vast array of expressions slightly caught Claude off guard — especially when he thought of her as so cute he wanted to tease her more — so he stood there without expression for a few seconds longer after she left, then burst into laughter.

So interesting!

The proper meetings started a week later so as to allow the diplomats to acclimate themselves to Almyra, so the Duchess made it her personal goal to get used to Almyra as quickly as possible so as not to bring shame to Fódlan as its representative.

She took frequent walks around the castle and was even given permission to go to town, albeit incognito, to take in all of the new landscapes. Somehow, she kept bumping into Claude whenever she left her room.

They met at the gardens, at the corridors, even at the library, once.

The most perplexing one was when they met outside. True to his words back when they met, they were together in town after he slipped away from the castle.

“Your Majesty!” She chided, immediately covering her mouth with both hands as he shushed her with a smile.

“Not so loud!” He chuckled, pulling her closer. His touch felt hotter than the sun burning down her back, for some reason. “Call me Khalid when we’re outside, it’s a common enough name around these parts, so no one should notice.”

“Y-your Maje—” she stuttered, then gulped down the word before it left her lips. “I shouldn’t address someone such as yourself by your name only…”

“It’s better than ‘hey’, don’t you think?” He winked, offering his arm. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

The Duchess hesitated, looked around the busy market and sighed in defeat, slipping her hand around his arm. “Very well… Khalid.” She whispered his name like it was something forbidden, feeling a little thrill bud inside her chest.

Claude’s smile widened, albeit involuntarily, and he looked away, his body flaring up with the sweetness that left her lips in the form of his name. He pointed to no path in particular, guiding them through the stalls like he was used to.

They stayed together most of the afternoon, until Selene finally convinced him to go back to the castle or stay there on his own, to which he complied with a strangely satisfied smile on his face.

The next time they saw each other was at the following day’s meeting.

Selene, with her proper mask back on, greeted Khalid once again, this time making sure to always look at their feet the whole time.

Well, when it was properly time to talk business, however, she had no choice but to look straight at his face. Sometimes he would flash a smirk and put his index over his lips as if he was keeping a secret, making her shift uncomfortably on her seat, fighting down the heat rising to her cheeks.

Diplomats from both sides — her, her attendees, Khalid’s and his attendees, not to mention translators and scribes — focused on heated debates over what to trade, which route to take, what commodities to release first, which price, price conversion and so, so many little details.

There was very little demand for what the Duchess could offer from her own land — she specialized in fur, sturdy wood, stone and jewels — and while the almyran jewelers were the most prized artisans in their country, there wasn’t much incentive to import from somewhere so far away from Almyra while Derdriu was right there.

Sure, she could strike a deal that would be beneficial to all of Fódlan, but she wanted her own Duchy to be personally involved as well. It would help maintain the amicable bonds between the countries if she spearheaded trade as an individual lord — many others would surely follow, and she wanted to be the lead example of such.

The meeting ended after half a day of heated debate — even her head felt hot from thinking on the spot and talking so much. King Khalid was truly a man of many talents; he kept up with her demands with his own, finding potential loopholes in contracts she had failed to detect.

As the attendants left the room in hordes, Selene stayed in one spot, staring at the first draft they had agreed on. Khalid watched her from the door and, once everyone was out, closed it behind him.

“Didn’t drink as much water today, Duchess, I see.” He teased, making her flinch.

“Your Majesty, I…” she looked up at him at her wit’s end. If this trade ended poorly on her side, it would impact much of her land’s economy. She could be scorned in society and ousted of some alliances she had painstakingly constructed over the years. “This is not a matter between Kingdoms, it is… very personal to me as well.”

Claude nodded. “I’m listening…” he leaned on the door.

“I would…” she gripped at the papers under her hands. “I would do anything to make it happen. I can draft a more ideal rate for our goods and bring it to you tomorrow, or, or even—” her eyes darted around the table, looking for more clues. Her brain was overclocking, and smoke could almost be seen coming out of her forehead. “If we use the roads I built and over which the rights of passage I own, we could—”

“Say, Duchess,” he interrupted, placing a very hot hand on her shoulder.

Selene flinched, snapping her head up to him. “Your Majesty?”

“Did you not notice how I made things seem more difficult for you? I’m sure you must have.”

Selene narrowed her eyes, then looked away from him. Her silence was confirmation enough.

“See, there’s this thing I really want that only you can give,” he said, roping her interest back in, noticing how her neck slowly cranked up to meet him again. He then pointed to her.

She looked down to her chest, finding nothing out of the ordinary, then frowned. “Your Majesty?” she tilted her head to the side, oblivious to his meaning.

“Pfft, haha!” he laughed heartily, shaking his head at her innocence.

She tried to keep a straight face as he laughed, but soon pouted. “Your Majesty!”

“It’s you, silly,” he said after a few huffs. “I want you.”

The Duchess’ eyes shot open in surprise, then she gulped. “I am… Me…?”

“I’ve heard so much about you even before you arrived. A master at managing the territory, someone who led the little people she had under her out to safety, allied herself with great nobles and kept up with them during the war! Then, as a reward for her hard work, she was given MORE work, but never broke down under the pressure, and made a name for herself in the entire county, then to my ears, so far from where you were. Who wouldn’t want to make such a person theirs?”

Selene’s throat ran dry and a frown covered her brow. “I have a duty to accomplish as a lord of my lands—”

“Of course, of course. At first, I wanted you as an asset,” he approached carefully, touching the hem of her hijab. “But now, you’ve been amusing me as a person,” he slowly pulled it down, revealing her well braided hair. “Did you know that you tend to raise the tip of your eyebrow,” he passed his thumb over her forehead, “when you see something you dislike but have no power against its change? And then, you pout so adorably it makes me want to pinch those cheeks,” he lowered his thumb to her lips.

“Y-Your Majesty, I— I am afraid I am not such an interesting woman.” she looked away as pink shaded her cheeks. She bit her lower lip in the way Claude expected, but felt even more aroused by seeing it first hand.

“I beg to differ,” he chuckled, touching her opposing cheek so she would turn back to look at him. She started to huff and even the hot breath leaving her lips felt alluring somehow. “So?”

“S-so, um,” she glanced at the papers, then at the man in front of her, her heart beating so fast she was dizzy. She had never married nor had any contact with men in that regard at all, so she was at a loss. It wasn’t as though talks of succession hadn’t happened at all, but she had placed marriage so far down her list that she barely even considered herself as someone with, well, means to go through with it.

There was so much left open with this demand. So many exploitable variables, so many ways this arrangement could bring them both harm, but…

The way he looked at her and talked about little things she never knew about herself made her feel seen. Recognized in a way she never thought she would be.

Slowly, she raised one hand to touch his chest, hesitating when she touched his bare skin. “Um…” she bit her lower lip, making Claude lick his own in anticipation.

“I won’t do anything until you say ‘yes’, though,” he teased, laughing inside when she pouted again, her face so red she could be mistaken for a tomato.

“Humph…” she hit her forehead on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist in a flash of boldness. “Yesh…” she bit her tongue.

“Hahah!” he threw his head back in laughter, then quickly lifted her face for a kiss.

“Mmmph…” she widened then closed her eyes in surprise, hesitating to open her mouth to allow his entry. Once he did, his tongue explored every corner of her, teasing her own into a dance. Her legs gave out after a few seconds, but Claude held her tightly, placing her on top of the large table. “Hahh… Y-Your Majesty…”

“Call me by my name,” he huffed, kissing her neck and collarbone, his hands traveling down so as to liberate her from her dress.

“I mustn’t…” she huffed as his hands brought out so many new sensations.

It was as if the climate wasn’t hot enough anymore. Each time his hands and lips moved, her body behaved as if it was on fire. She was sitting on top of very important documents! And yet, she could only divert her attention to the man in front of her, her entire body waiting in anticipation of his every movement.

Honestly, Khalid wasn’t even planning on doing this. He wanted to tease her and court her over the course of a few days.

But her reaction was so cute, and so unexpected! She just jumped right in, overthrowing everything he had planned to happen.

His body moved on its own, eager to explore every curve of hers that had been so cleverly hidden this whole time. She had managed to hide her expressions — albeit not from his keen eyes — and shown only a proper persona of a noble. Yet, he wanted to find out more. What was underneath it all, the woman whose hair she herself hid in accordance to their customs, the woman behind all those stories.

The more his lips discovered her body, the more he took in her reactions. Her voice was so melodious, and her uneasy yet firm grip on his clothes were so alluring!

He wanted to find more, to explore more.

Still, the most he could do was lift her skirt instead of undressing her entirely — their dresses were too complicated for him to fasten back by himself — and drop down to the world beneath her legs.

“Eep…!” She squealed once his hot breath was by her sex, instinctively closing her legs. “This is…” she huffed as he spread her legs back, huffing right by her entrance.

“What a sexy smell,” he teased, inserting his tongue into her.

“It-ahh…! It doesn’t smell…” She covered her face with both hands in shame, unable to tone her voice down. Claude chuckled, exploring her depths like no one else had ever done. He sucked her in, then licked around her, then inserted his tongue into her.

It was unbearable! She arched her back in pleasure as her whole body shook with orgasm, then deflated right back down when he pulled himself up, as he licked his lips.

“Hmm,” he relished, as if he had partaken of a delicious meal. “Incredible appetizer, I will be needing more of these in the future,” he winked at her disheveled appearance, prodding his waist on her.

“Ah…!” Selene flinched, realizing what, indeed he had prodded her with, looking at him through the gaps between her fingers. “T-this is…”

Claude bit his lower lip, slowly rotating his bulge right on top of her, making her body flare up again. “Not yet, though,” he teased, bending down to her eye level and kissing her cheek, then licking her ear. At the same time, he pressed his hands down to her opening, inserting one, then two fingers into her.

His entry was easy due to her previous orgasm, but nonetheless a tight fit. He played with her for a bit, teasing her clit with one finger as two went him, enjoying how her body quivered and her breath failed with each of his movements, like the world’s most well tuned musical instrument.

Her voice was much more melodious and arousing than any instrument or singer ever could, however. With each gasp, her eyes moistened and her body flinched; with each muffled moan, her legs spasmed slightly, sneakily wrapping themselves around him; with each passing second, her lips came closer to uttering his name.

“Ah… Y-Your Maj—... Khali—” she squeezed her eyes in pleasure, wrapping her arms around his neck like a lifeline. It had taken her the whole day to get used to saying his name yesterday, and today she had steeled herself to only see him as a King and potential business partner.

And yet, whenever their eyes briefly met during the meeting, her heart couldn’t help but thump; whenever their fingers brushed against each other as they exchanged documents, she felt his heat linger for a while longer.

Now, such heat permeated her entire body, starting from her womb. She felt the epitome of pleasure enclosing her slowly, making her almost beg for more — just a little more, just twist a finger a little in that direction…

“Say it, Selene…” he huffed in her ear, purposely slowing his fingers to torture her a bit more.

“Mhghn…” She grumbled, but the heat was so unbearable she wanted to let it all out at once. “P-please… Khalid…” she huffed, and barely was the word out of her lips, they were covered by his in a passionate kiss.

Instead of twisting his finger, Khalid directed his hand to his pants, freeing his pulsating erection so as to put it in her, as a treat.

The moment the tip went in, Selene’s body jolted in pleasure, almost at the peak. Once the length slipped in, her whole body shook in pleasure.

“K-Khalid…” she bemoaned during the short time they took to breathe. She squeezed her eyes as her body felt like it wasn’t hers anymore — it was at his behest, at his whim. He pulled it out, and she felt empty to the point of squeezing her grip on his waist with her legs; he thrust it all back in, and she felt overwhelmed.

It was all so much and just right at the same time.

It was as if she had waited her whole life for their bodies to connect like that. For him to penetrate her and them both feel like they had found their missing piece. Their bodies fit perfectly together.

“D-Don’t stop…” She begged deliriously, shaking with her third orgasm in such quick succession. Khalid, spurred by her mews of pleasure and adorable countenance, finally allowed himself to accelerate his movements, thrusting quicker and quicker as his own climax approached.

They huffed each other’s names between kisses, their breaths intertwined in the way that only couples could ever understand. His words became hers and her words became his as their lips could not be apart anymore.

As the climax approached, Khalid thrusted in one last time, pounding her to another orgasm herself.

“Hmm… hmmm,” she groaned as her whole body hardened, then relaxed as the pleasure washed all over her.

There was still so much going on, and so much to go through yet.

Still, for the evening, for the moment, for that very second, they were together, they were one.

And that was all that mattered, for now.

#fire emblem three houses #claude fire emblem #khalid fire emblem #fire emblem #my writings #fodlansona #yuki's commissions #a sin a day keeps the thirst at bay

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dontyouknowitszakra · 8 months ago

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It's world poetry day so here are some (more) of my favorite poems:

What You Missed That Day You Were Absent from Fourth Grade by Brad Aaron Modlin

All Trains Are Going Local by Timothy Liu

Rural Boys Watch the Apocalypse by Keaton St. James (@boykeats)

HOPE YOU’RE WELL. PLEASE DON’T READ THIS. by Lev St. Valentine (@dogrotpdf)

Time of Love by Claribel Alegría

Every Job Has a First Day by Rebecca Gayle Howell

ALL THAT WANTING, RIGHT? by Devin Kelly

Reading by A.R. Ammons

things i want to ask you by Helga Floros

Night Bird by Danusha Laméris

Prayer for Werewolves by Stephanie Burt

The Two Times I Loved You the Most In a Car by Dorothea Grossman

The Yearner by Rachel Long

If I Had Three Lives by Sarah Russell

I Dream on a Crowded Subway Train with My Eyes Open But My Body Swaying by Chen Chen

We Have Not Long to Love by Tennessee Williams

Jesus at the Gay Bar by Jay Hulme

Cracks by Dieu Dinh

and here's part one <3

#already working on next year's list <3#these are a few of my favorite things#brad aaron modlin#timothy liu

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devoutpriest · 9 months ago

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wildmoored:

A wry smile turned up the corners of Godric’s lips, and for a moment he hesitated, for his disagreements were many, and most of those were not the kind to share with strangers. To explain those reasons would be to expose his magic, and he had no wish for that debacle at present. He was a wizard, friends with Helga, and had a wand from Ollivander's. “Forgive me, friend, but those are personal, and deeply rooted within my family. To follow the Christian god was to be dishonest to mine own heart and mind. And I’ve long believed that to acknowledge a lack of faith is better and truer than to promote false faith. I had little initial belief to even leave by the time I first came to Uppsala. Any good memories I have of the years when I called myself a Christian had little to do with the religion, and more to do with my family while my brothers and my father still lived.” Athelstan mentioned the statues and so Godric looked up at them, grand and impressive, certainly sights to inspire - and yet his response to his countryman was a simple “No.” He elaborated. "I never saw the statues until a few years ago – my first time here was maybe two years after the family I met had last come to the temple. I’ve work and other obligations that take me far from here – to the golden pyramids in Cairo and beyond even there. And I’ve spent most of my life going from one place to another. But still I carry the gods with me. I do not believe them stuck inside something carved by the hands of men - they are everywhere, and so too their strength does not leave me, even under the southern sun… when perhaps I need it the most.“ Godric nodded along with Athelstan’s story, HMMing or saying ’RIGHT’ in the appropriate spots. "I’ve heard a great many things about Earl Ragnar, though I’ve yet to meet him." He hears him speak quietly about Ragnarok, nigh whisper, understanding this man was confused about viking customs. Was he not met well with his curiosity in Kattegat? "The world passes by very differently here, compared to back home, doesn’t it? Our people were not always Christians - we used to believe in gods just like the Norsemen. To come here feels like returning to my roots - do you ever have this thought?”

Athelstan notices the smile on the man’s lips. It looked illuminated by the candles, and scant natural light forcibly dispersing into the temple.

He nods, accepting the man’s apology in stride, as blood was splattered on his face, as the priest spattered in all journeyers here. The priest had paused upon seeing him, sensing something different about him. Then he splashed onto his face, trickling into his goatee, hair on his chin. It was strange having more hair once more, as he had been used to tonsure during monastic time. He had cut his skull with a knife to shave, feeling lonely of God abandoning him, the monks abandoning him and mocking him in the darkness. Offence was not taken in any way, even if the man had not apologized for denying him.

“Of course, and I do not wish to intrude in any way. Yet, were you ever afraid what people may think of you, when acknowledging such? I am sorry to hear of your brothers and father’s demise, and I hope that they are at peace in Heaven.”

This man seemed so much more assured of where he stood in his faith than Athelstan.

“How was your experience in visiting the Cairo pyramids? Did you find them beautiful to behold?" He remembered painting sandy dunes in the desert, a light brown cathedral with a glass dome. "I have started to feel the gods’ presence as well. I have found that Thor is in the thunder, is the slayer of frost and fire–although I do admit that I may have felt his presence later than you. ”

Upon hearing the man’s question directed towards him, Athelstan pauses once again before answering. He thinks to the cross hidden onto his wrist and the crumbling Bible of St. John buried in a hidden compartment, things he could not bear to get rid of just yet.

“Ragnar is here now if you wish to meet him, although at this very moment, I think he may be busy. I have never been to Uppsala until now, but I do find myself interested by it. I recognize all these gods that I’ve learnt in Kattegat.”

#rp partner | wildmoored #ic

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libertychee · 10 months ago

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Hello Tumblr, it's been a while.

This morning I attended an online info-session about a new funding scheme by the Volkswagen Foundation on "societal transformations". In what appears to be an accelerating trend among funding institutions, what is required of the 21st century researcher will no longer fit the old Cartesian divide between knowers and the known. What they are looking for are "change agents", where the focus is on "transformation processes". The basic premise is that scientists are increasingly asked to co-produce with non-academic entities for "socially robust knowledge". In the European context, the kernel of this idea likely began with the work of Helga Nowotny, Peter Scott and Michael Gibbons from the late 1990s on the science-and-society interface. Helga Nowotny, an STS scholar, was vice-president and then president of the European Research Council from 2007 to 2013.

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renatedagmarmilada · 1 year ago

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Pressing LUNGS by remote--OLAF of Munich Human Research.

re covert destruction program by remote over UK till 20 80--Someone is pressing my lungs /by remote'/ from lab st barths human Research- this compresses the grey matter in your lungs tighter and makes breathing even more difficult besides being horrendously painful, called sport by lab members, ofcourse as a refugee from one years old, I had TB etc Sadism rather than any form of skill or knowledge is the key to being a mental assistant. They love inflicting extra pain-- said former bossess Anna who got her job with sex, she was a sex worker of Peckham alias Jean Clark, prison sentence, thrown out of Hospital for Tropical Medicines : Fekete's life has been so hard she won't even notice -- OH But I DO..and the pain is horrendous-/lab st barths human Research- quote just now, I pushed two of the break-ins and thefts at your house. It's getting very difficult as the old teacher has very little left now worth the time and bother of robbing, by John Turnbull's friend he calls himself, dare not give his name though watched at the lab?? JT drags anyone and everyone into t he lab. so they are guilty and cannot complain when the time comes, that was Anna's method too \quote ''Jean Carsted was my whore so I am permitted..''/ All and everything they do is pain-inflicting at that lab. - trying to say we are voluntary patients- never a patient and not voluntary -

Human Research runs only on lies, which they call ISSUES.. never been to the place-re covert destruction program by remote over UK till 2080 - now running extinction program from it.

The lab St barths human Research killed an art woman lecturer at the Psalter Lane Art College Sheffield with this technique. They pressed her lungs so hard they collapsed and she died. Also my own lecturer, they put this mind thing into victim's thoughts and then they kill themselves- a friend on A levels was also used for this technique, hung himself and others---used fairly regularly. The Lecturer tidied his desk on the day of the results and put a gun to his brain and shot his brains out. I should have guessed it was coming as he let me see his art, black boxes, endless black boxes. As a sensitive artist, he was expressing his thoughts in his art. All UK is on this program paid for by Kissinger for the future of USA.

pss evidently someone called OLAF /??/ friend of Helga.. they are all shown the film made at BBC by Joanna of lab porn artist with my head supplanted on it /New York Hum Res advised St barths HumRes/ and then imagine they will find something not little tiny kiddy patients used horrendously- Joanna, porn model, 'quote You are getting greedy Joanna'.. has long been asphyxiated in 'THE ROOM' at the lab where all are sent once they are no longer of any use- now closed-- /?/ of Munich Human Research..''excellent I've got your looted work to copy. '' Someone saw you in the classroom at East Ham College, /they used sound threatening /none stop there and at Langdon School London, but the lab put on endless diarrhea for simulated cancers, which is another technique they us a lot, people think they have it when they haven't, it is simulated from the lab. st barths human Research.......Allan Lieberman Cross of Finchley, 86 illeg children and former Insurance Salesman, killed my dad with that one and they also had his very strong heart taken out- /put actual heartbeat on for me to hear when I visited him/ let him have an artificial one, as he was in a german prison.. so they could watch him die from it...unfortunately, my parents come from the East and TRUST doctors and the English implicitly ...... to ensure I didn't get the PGCE..Russian and German from Institute of Education..

Jorg Feldman from Basel Switzerland is coming back./ugh from Basel?? madman just so he can have it off with tots/ Lab created a fatal accident on one of the Swiss mountain..

LAURA of Hereward St Sheffield fortyish, not a known thief, but stole some dozen things from my home..some get away with it repeatedly, broke into my home looting, twice...

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sainthelgas · 2 months ago

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They got Matpat on Tubi wtf

#from st. helga

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weaselbeaselpants · 3 years ago

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A very necessary expansive list of every animated Disney death

- (resurrected, resuscitated, "Disney Death")

+ (dead before the events of the films; died off-screen)

** (death unconfirmed; died in deleted scene)

-Snow White poisoned

Evil Queen fell off a cliff and crushed by a giant boulder

-Pinocchio drowned???

Living Broom hacked to bits; life taken away by Yen Sid

Stegosaurus neck broken and eaten alive by badly drawn T rex

Bambi’s Mother shot

Pheasant shot

The Wolf shot and killed by Peter

Willie Whale harpooned

Ichabod Crane ** (("spirited away"= decapitated by headless horseman))

+Cinderella’s parents ((IDK honestly)

Oysters eaten alive by the Walrus

Cards decapitated

Nutsy gassed in pound

Diablo turned to stone

Maleficent stabbed in chest and fell to death

+Mowgli’s parents ((implied to have been killed by wild animals))

Tod’s Mother shot

Black Bear fell off of waterfall

-Gurgi suicide by jumping into cauldron

Gwythianth ** crushed to death by falling castle

Unnamed Horned King soldier ** killed by cauldron born in the one deleted scene that's apparently more important than any other deleted scene from this movie

Horned King sucked into the black cauldron entrails first

Bartholomew eaten alive

Felicia ripped apart by royal guard dogs

Fidget** ((fell into the river Thames; never clear how dead he is))

Professor Ratigan fell off Big Ben

Desoto and Roscoe electrocuted to death on subway rail

Sykes ran over in collision with a subway train

Flotsam and Jetsam electrocuted and blow to pieces accidentally by Ursula

Ursula impaled by ship and electrocuted to death

Percival Mcleach fell off a waterfall

Gaston lost footing and fell to death off Beast's castle

-Beast stabbed in vital organs

Gazeem 'eaten'/crushed to death by the jaws of the cave of wonders

Mufasa thrown off a cliff and trampled by a stampede of wildebeast

Scar eaten alive by hyenas

Hyena clan ** ((consumed by flames))

Kocoum shot

Quasimodo’s Mother broke her neck and skull when kicked against cathedral steps

Judge Claude Frollo fell off of Notre Dame into boiling coals and lava

-Megara crushed under pillar

Cyclops titan tripped and head split open

Great Wall guard ** ((possibly murdered after alerting the other guards of the wall))

Chinese Soldier shot in the back after defying Shan Yu

Village slaughtered by huns

General Shang slaughtered by huns

Shan Yu’s army crushed under an avalanche

Shan Yu torpedoed into a fireworks display and blown up

Kerchak and Kala’s baby eaten alive by Sabor

Tarzan’s parents mauled and possibly eaten by Aabor

Sabor stabbed to death by Tarzan

Kerchak shot

Clayton unintentionally hung himself from the vines of the trees

Aladar’s mother ((may have been eaten))

Island of Lemurs killed in meteor shower

Bruton crushed to death

Kron fell to death

Carnatourus 1 crushed to death

Carnatour 2 fell to death

Queen of Atlantis taken by the crystal

+Milo’s grandfather ((I think natural causes))

Crew of Ulysses killed in leviathon attack

King of Atlantis succumbed to wounds inflicted by Roarke

Helga St. Clair succumbed to wounds after being thrown out of ship by Roarke

Roarke infected by the crystal after being cut by it then blown the shit up by helicopter turbines

+Lilo and Nani’s parents died in a car accident

Pudge ** ((murdered by seagulls no thanks to Stitch))

Billy Bones wounded after altercation and crash

Mr. Arrows lost in space

Scroop lost in space

Sitka sacrificed himself by breaking the glacier he was standing on apart and falling with it to his death

Koda’s mother stabbed by Kenai

Doris quantum aborted by Lewis

+Tiana’s father ((implied to have died in WWI))

Dr. Facilier dragged into the other side by "friends"

Ray crushed to death by Dr Facilier

-Flynn Rider stabbed by Mother Gothel

Mother Gothel rapidly aged and disintagrated

+Calhoun’s first husband eaten alive by cybug

King Kandy/Turbo killed outside of his game by volcano

King and Queen of Arendelle died in shipwreck

-Anna iced

Tadashi blown the fack up

-Baymax body left floating out in space

Tala died peacefully wow that's nice

-Olaf melted

-Elsa iced

-Everybody in Kumandra unstoned

Disney Sequels

Forte unhinged himself and died I don't know exactly please don't make me rewatch that film to make sure

Nuka crushed to death in flood

Zira fell ((deleted scenes willingly)) into ravine

Morgana iced

-Stitch glitch AIDS

Athena crushed against rocks and a ship

Extra

+Teddy Valiant "dropped a piano on his head..."

Toon Shoe dipped

Toon Patrol dipped

Judge Doom dipped

Oogie Boogie flayed alive, insides boiled, and then crushed under Santa's boot

+James parents eaten by either a real rhino or an elderitch storm rhino who the frack are you trying to explain James and the Giant Peach? eat a dick Doug Walker!

-Sparky hit by car; died in windmill fire

Sea Monkeys exploded after eating salt

Shelly electrocuted back into corpse

Colossas crushed in pokemon battle

Mr. Whiskers impaled and left to burn to death

Pixar

Hopper fed alive to hungry baby birds

+Coral eaten by barraccuda

+Nemo’s siblings eaten by barraccuda

Legion of Supers genocided by Syndrome through the Omnidroid

Syndrome’s goons blown up and left to die a lot

Syndrome "no capes!"

+Gustau health declined after falling into depression

-Wall.E crushed under the gears of the Axium

Ellie Fredrikson natural causes???

Charles Muntz fell off of Carl's floating house into the jungle and died

Mor’du crushed to death under boulder

Bing Bong forgotten

Henry killed in flashflood

Thunderclap knocked out by Arlo and fell inconcsious into rapids

Ernesto DeLa Cruz crushed to death during live performance

+Imelda natural causes

Hector poisoned by his best friend before wanting to return home for Christmas wow that's evil, Ernesto

Coco natural causes

-Joe Gardener fell into manhole

What better way to write myself asleep than with an arbitrary Disney list?

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lumosinlove · 4 years ago

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Relic Keel

(Warnings in tags)

part i

Sirius woke up with the sun for one reason only. He wanted to see the far off, white sails of Lupin’s boat.

Some people came to Hogwarts Island for the yearly trade show in Helga. Some people came for the resorts. Some came for the waves, perfect for surfing. Some came for the history.

If Sirius hadn’t already lived there his entire life, he would have come for those white sails. But he’d always been here. This island didn’t let many go. Not even Lupin’s boat truly went. It always stayed in view, never even close to a dot on the horizon. Sirius only ever saw the tourists really leave. And they didn’t count. They were strangers.

Sirius pushed himself up from the mattress he’d dumped on the floor one day and never bothered with again, and glanced at Saint, who had fallen asleep on the porch hammock. A book was clutched to his chest. James got them for him, from the island bookstore or his father’s library. Anything he wanted. He even told Saint to keep them sometimes, but Saint never would.

“If I’ve read it, I’ve got it up here,” Saint would say. “I don’t need people asking questions about how I got them anyway.”

“Tell them the truth,” James would say. “I got them for you.”

Saint would just laugh. Everything about Saint was sunny, all the way down to his honey brown skin and bright smile, his golden hair and his amber eyes. Sometimes his laughs weren’t though. Sometimes things about Saint promised storms.

“Or one of the Gods,”—a Hollow word for Godric’s inhabitants— “could say I stole them,” Saint would always reply. “And it’d be all over from there for this St. Clair.”

St. Clair was the name given to all the kids of the island who didn’t have one. It was the name of Godric’s church and orphanage, and Saint Clair was the saint of the island. They thought they were doing a nice thing, giving orphans a name.

The Hallow called him Saint because he wasn’t one, though, and that was why Saint liked it. He wasn’t a St. Clair. He was no saint. No one was.

“Pretty fun,” Saint would laugh. “To be known for what you’re not.”

“Not to mention,” was another one of his sayings, “I get to go around telling all the people of the island that they can worship me in bed.”

Only Sirius knew his real name.

Hogwarts Island had four neighborhoods. Hot all year round, and just off the coast of Guadeloupe in the French territory of the West Indies Islands.

Your island paradise! said the sign on the main port dock in Rowena.

Sirius had spray painted that sign. More than once. Saint liked to replace the dice with site, just to freak people out a little. The tourists took pictures of it anyway, and then of each other. Zinc covered faces, or barely covered girls on spring break. It didn’t matter. They would all be gone in, at most, two weeks. Hogwarts was small, and the neighborhoods kept to themselves. Tourists were both a part of and outside the dynamic.

First, and northward, there was Godric. Money, money, money. Great manors lined the streets, built in the days of French occupation. They were still mostly filled with the old families—Potter, Lupin, McKinnon, Evans, Deveaux. Sirius always swore that more money went to these peoples’ golf courses and gardens and swimming pools than to food and water. It was also where the main hotels were. Griffin Beach was lined with villas and hotels and resorts, all either pointing outwards towards the endless ocean, or inwards, towards the pools and bars and Gryffindor Golf course.

In the western part of the island was Rowena. Rowena was where the island’s port was. It was where the tourists came in, only to get swindled into paying too much for crappy hotels, for their drinks, and for surfboard rentals.

To the East lay Helga. Anything anyone needed, they found it in Helga. Rows and rows of the finest craftsmen. Helga held the other part of Hogwarts’ main income. What the tourists didn’t cover, Helga’s treasures and their yearly trade show did.

Finally, there was Salazar. The snake of the South, people called it, because it wound all the way out to the skinniest, most pointed part of the island. Salazar was equal part money and dirt. Salazar held more old families, more old money. The Montagues and Capulates, Saint liked to say, the Jets and Sharks. Lestrange, Carrow, Meadowes. Black. The houses, Gothic and looming and built within inches of each other, were the maze of the drug dealers. One quarter of it, at least. Normally, Sirius Black would have nothing but hatred for his home arrondissement, the one he hadn’t re-entered in almost seven years now, for fear of never escaping again, but Salazar had produced Dorcas, after all. And Dorcas was one of Sirius’ closest friends. Doras gave Salazar, if not a redeemable image, proof that it wasn’t a complete hell-hole. There were rarely any cross-over. Godrics stuck to Godric, Salazars to Salazar, and so on. Unless there was trouble.

But then there was The Hollow. It was a sliver of a place, right on the northern-most shoreline. Ironically placed beside Griffin Beach, just outside of Godric. A small slice of land dedicated to…no one really knew who. Runaways, like Sirius? Do-what-you-wants, like Dorcas? Godric-rich-boy-looking-for-a-thrill, like James? Or had you been born there, like Saint?

To the island, they were like the poor of Ancient Rome, slanting wood against the outside of the city’s walls for shelter. But it didn’t feel that way. Not to the people inside.

Some knew what they had done to end up there. Some didn’t. Everyone knew that was it though. You didn’t make it out of The Hallow. Saint liked to say that you had to make it in. Like some A-lister Godric club. A tangle of too low wires, stollen cable, junk yards and thatched, patched houses. More surfboards outside of houses than cars.

They called their little piece of wood leant against the Roman wall Grimmauld Place. Grim old place, in French. Sirius didn’t know why. It wasn’t grim to him. It had always been called that, forever, named by just another somebody that no one knew. A shelter, gorgeous and haphazard, built by different inhabitants over the years, that was half on the ground and half in the trees. Rope ladders, rope bridges. Spirals and spirals of it. Warm, hanging lanterns all the way up into the branches of the biggest oak tree Sirius had ever seen. Like fireflies. None of Godric’s window screen mania. You wanted the sun on your face, you wanted the ocean breeze, you’d deal with a few mosquitoes. Sirius knew that the sun, the sand between his toes, his friends, just a level below…it was worth it. He’d never forget the first time he’d seen it, Saint looking over the railing, much younger, and telling him to fuck off. He’d take it over the dark halls he had grown up in any day.

Sirius planted his feet on the floor and pushed himself up, going to the sink for a glass of water and so he could stare out the window some more. There it was. Sirius loved that boat. The sailor sailed it like they were trying to escape, too. Only, Sirius couldn’t think of a reason a Lupin would want or need to escape. He’d seen their house plenty of times, almost everyday when he went to work at the Potter’s. But that boat…it didn’t fit anything else about the Gods, except perhaps that they could afford it. Sirius loved that boat, he loved its billowing sails, and the looping script reading, Wolfsbane, its name, across the side.

The sky was just beginning to give up dawn, and Sirius wanted to be closer.

He put his glass down and shoved his feet into his flip-flops. Saint was closer to falling out of his hammock now, and dappled in the pale light between palm trees. Sirius gave the hooked fabric a kick, and Saint flailed awake.

“Fucker,” Saint said, one eye open and voice groggy.

“I can’t sleep,” Sirius said. “Let’s go do something.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost dawn.”

It was all Sirius needed to say. Saint threw a hand over his eyes before rolling to his feet and stretching his back. Sirius stared out over one of the railings of Grimmauld and all he could see was ocean. He looked for his boat, his white-sailed perfect thing, and then turned away. He’d have time to watch again at the beach.

The Hollow was grand to Sirius, mostly because it was the farthest away from Salazar that one could get. At this point, Godric, as much as Sirius hated it, felt like a point of protection. If Salazars hated the Godrics, they’d hate having to go through them to get to the Hollow even more. But the Hollow was great for other reasons.

Shack Beach was theirs. No tourists. No villas or hotels that shooed you away from the private bars and lounge chairs. It was empty, and so it was full. And the waves. Oceanic rollers that pushed you up, that let you get your feet under you, or forced you down beneath the surface in a tumble of salt and sand. Not so great during a hurricane, but glorious for this.

Sirius hefted his board under his arm before throwing it into the sand and stretching his arms back, then up above his head. Saint was doing the same beside him, his wooden, sea-soaked cross hanging around his neck.

“D’accord, Black,” Saint said. “Wagers?”

“Whoever gets the most air has to play lookout for Dorcas,” Sirius said. “And dinner.”

“High stakes,” Saint whistled lowly. “Fine.” Saint’s smile was sharp. “Go.”

They took off at a run.

The water, although warm, was the shock Sirius needed. Saint beside him, as always, and the unknown weight of creatures and water below them. It was terrifying and thrilling. The ocean floor was dark this early, but Sirius stared down at it anyway as they sat on their boards, waiting. They didn’t need light for this part anyway. Sirius could recognize the telltale pull of the tides in his sleep.

“Oh,” Saint drew out the sound, tilting his head back. “I feel it, baby.”

Sirius turned wordlessly back towards the shore, Saint following with a flash of a smile, as they began to paddle. Sirius felt the lift, the curl, heard the water begin to rush and rush, faster and faster. The water kissed his feet and hands. Sirius jumped himself up and let out a long whoop, laughing as he gained his footing with a few twirls before pushing himself up towards the crest. He curled around the top of the wave and there was the Wolfsbane again, just for a moment, before it disappeared to the sea again. Sirius, for a moment, had felt like he was sailing beside it, with it.

They could stay out there for hours, always had been able to, but Sirius had work soon. They went until Sirius felt thoroughly salt-drenched, lips parched. Dragging their boards, they collapsed together in a small thicket of palm trees, up the beach a little. It was like a small cave of bark and wind-rustled leaves. There were still a few stars visible, and Sirius closed one eye and connected them with his finger.

“Dipper?” Saint said.

“Just Orion,” Sirius sighed and dropped his hand. “We learned that in school.”

Saint snorted. “When’s the last time we went to school?”

“True,” Sirius laughed, then, “You should steal the Wolfsbane for me."

Saint looked over at him. “What is it with you and the Lupins’ boat?”

Sirius just shrugged. He didn’t know. “I miss sailing, maybe.”

“You know Kris will let you take one of his out at the marina,” Saint replied.

“I don’t want to get him in trouble. He already lends us the motorboat, anyway.”

“You’re all trouble,” Saint said, and then he knocked their ankles together when they had been quiet for a few moments.

“Well?” he asked quietly as the sun began to warm them.

Sirius turned to look at Saint, sand in his hair. He laughed. They both knew what that meant.

“That sort of day, huh?” Sirius said.

“I’m asking for you,” Saint said. “I can go wherever I please, Dorcas has Marlene, but you…” Saint made a tisking sound. “Oh, Sirius Black. You lonely creature of the sea.”

Sirius scoffed. “You’re always so romantic.”

“Come on,” Saint propped himself up on an elbow and pressed a warm palm to Sirius’ bare chest. “It’s nice. It’s nice because we know each other.”

“Why do you always do this to me in public places?”

Saint raised an eyebrow and looked around the empty sands.

Sirius knew Saint could feel his chest rising and falling beneath his hand, knew that if he dragged it down some he would feel Sirius stirring in his swim trunks. Saint was his best friend. It was easy with Saint. There was no risk of losing Saint. Except maybe to Saint Clair, but they never went to Salazar, and Salazar had yet to come to them.

“Come here,” Sirius sighed, as if he was entirely put upon, and Saint made a pleased noise and leaned down for a kiss. He tasted like the sea, salty and smooth. Sirius pressed a hand to his back, coated with sand.

“Sandy hand jobs,” Sirius grumbled into his mouth. “My favorite.”

“There’s no sand in my mouth,” Saint breathed out and threw a leg over Sirius’ hips, mouth moving down to suck at Sirius’ neck. Sirius let his eyes close, hand squeezing around one of Saint’s strong shoulders.

“That’s true,” he said.

The barely there light in the sky cast Saint’s skin in blue, his light curls taking on the color, too as he kissed down Sirius’ chest, whose breathing was coming faster. He bit playfully at Sirius’ hip when he reached the band of his swim shorts and Sirius laughed, hitting his head lightly.

“We gotta go soon.”

“So?” Saint looked up with one of his sharp smiles, his freckles sprinkling his brown skin and honey eyes.

Sirius did love Saint. They loved each other, in their own way. For a long time now, they had been all each other had. Some type of love had to grow out of that. It just had to.

He was warm and felt safe as Saint’s mouth slipped over him, nursing him slowly. Sirius threaded his fingers into Saint’s salt-tangled hair and let his head loll back in the sand.

Sirius didn’t relax often. Saint knew that because he was the same, even if he pretended he wasn’t. The closest Sirius got, besides this, was in the ocean. Something to focus on. Something to look for and be careful about. Something to love.

He breathed out slowly, trying to quiet his mind and pass all his attention to Saint. He was stiffening quickly to full hardness from the wet heat, and his hands in Saint’s hair moved with his movements, sounds soft.

Sirius let himself stare out at the ocean again. The Wolfsbane was filled with wind, the double pontoons tilted so that one was a little ways out of the water. He could only barely make out the sailor’s silhouette. He didn’t know which Lupin it was. They was skilled though, very skilled. Sirius would do anything to have a sailboat of his own that he could take out every single day. He envied the sailor.

It didn’t take him long to come, not with Saint knowing his body so well. Soon, he was open mouthed, back arching as Saint pulled his orgasm from him.

Saint smiled when he leaned back, sitting on his heels and tucking Sirius back inside his shorts. “Worship me yet?”

“Always,” Sirius panted. “What do you want?”

“Have you seen your mouth?”

Sirius hummed and surged up to kiss him before knocking him back into the sand. They wrestled, rolling and laughing together in the dune, before settling with Sirius on top, hands pinning Saint’s wrists.

“Go on,” Saint grinned, then parroted, “we gotta go soon.”

“So romantic.”

Sirius reached into Saint’s suit and took his cock, hot and throbbing into his hands, biting his lip at the way Saint’s mouth dropped open. Saint really was beautiful. Sirius thought there must be something wrong with him to not want him in the way that he should.

“Life’s not too bad,” Saint sighed after, as Sirius rolled to lay next to him again. “Island. Surfing. Sex. We’re basically The Beach Boys.”

Sirius laughed. “Basically.”

Saint made a disgruntled noise. “Is it weird that we aren’t in love?”

“Yeah,” Sirius replied. “It sort of is.”

“Do you wish we were?” Saint looked at his profile.

Sirius returned his gaze, their noses close. He nodded, sand shifting in his ear. “Sometimes.”

“Gosh, we suck.”

“We really do,” Sirius patted near where Saint’s swimsuit was still askew. “Literally.”

Saint let out a loud laugh, pulling his trunks up, and Sirius a long groan.

“Gotta go to work.”

“Poor baby,” Saint said.

“You also have to go to work.”

“Poor me.”

“You also owe me dinner. And your Dorcas’ look out. I won.”

Saint sat up. “Then I gotta go to work.”

Sirius smiled and looked back out over the waves. The white sails were pushing back West, towards Lupin House to dock. He’d have to wait until tomorrow to see them filled and tilting again.

Dorcas slung her backpack on while Saint all but forced the Jeep into park. She hopped out of the door-less side and turned to grin at him, elbows resting against the hot metal of the rusty blue sides.

“One hour,” Saint said, already kicking his seat backwards and pulling out his earbuds. “Then I have work. Don’t think I won’t leave you here.”

“You’re a saint, baby, really.”

Saint flicked his sunglasses down over his eyes. “Don’t I know it.”

Dorcas waved him off before jogging lowly around the back of the McKinnon’s gardens, skirting the gate until she found the bent out posts. She threw her backpack through first, before sliding through herself on her stomach. The manicured grass stained her tank top green in places, but Marlene wouldn’t care. Marlene was an angel. Dorcas was positive.

Marlene’s father, not so much.

Dorcas kept away from the vast windows until she could pull herself up one of the drain pipes that led straight to Marlene’s bedroom window. She crouched, sneakers wedged against roof tiles, and tapped on the glass.

At first, all Dorcas could see through the window was Marlene’s familiar bedroom, the sunlight partially reflecting herself back at her, her chin length dark hair, backwards hat and tank top. In the rest, Marlene’s bright walls, once white but now covered with posters and Marlene’s paintings. Concert posters, random letters from the Hollow’s old abandoned movie theater marque that Dorcas had brought her, and the oil paint in swirling shapes or stroked to form friends’ faces. Dorcas saw her own face many times, and the sight was warmer than the hot sun.

Then, Marlene was there, blonde hair falling over her shoulders. She pressed her forehead to the warm glass briefly before pushing the window, sticking with the heat, open.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Dorcas said.

“D,” Marlene sighed, and pulled her in.

Marlene was an angel. Dorcas was sure.

Saint felt uneasy in Godric. He probably always would. He kept his earbuds in, but tapped off beat and nervously, glancing back at the McKinnon house every once in a while. All these houses looked the same. The lawns were so green that they rivaled the sea, aqua and glimmering in the sunlight. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like the women, seemingly ever out for a morning speed-walk with each other, died blonde hair piled high on their heads, who stopped to ask, Do you do lawns? What about pools?

Saint merely slid his sunglasses off, smiled at them, and they were lost. Their eyes went bright, their mouths giggly. Boy from The Hollow, they would whisper to their friends later, so sad to waste such a face—

Saint had always been beautiful. He knew that. But it didn’t matter so much when you were from where he was. In Godric, beauty was key. Anywhere else, it was a waste.

And then they’d see his neck. The cross with the 7 singed there, hanging around his neck.

Oh, they’d gasp, oh, sweetheart, you’re one of those St. Clair Church orphans aren’t you?

A waste. A waste.

The nuns—waste of space, wasteofspacewasteof—

Saint hated the Godric men, with their linen pants and green juices. Walking their property lines and greeting each other each morning, like Roman elite on their salutatio.

Saint was here for Dorcas, who for some reason had decided to love one of those men and women’s daughters. He could never.

That was the surest way to be a waste. Why love them? Why love anyone who was raised like this? By these people?

There was an excitement that came with The Hollow for the Godrics. A strange fascination, animal and exotic. Marlene, to her credit, didn’t have it. She loved Dorcas, too. James Potter…Saint liked James well enough. But both he and Marlene could still go home every night. They didn’t live it. Not like Dorcas, not like Sirius, not like himself.

Yes, Saint would say. I do lawns. I clean pools.

Saint grinned sweetly. Sultry.

He’d also steal their favorite gold necklace.

“So, Remus, what do you plan to do with yourself this summer, sweetheart?”

Remus looked across the dining room table at his parents. His mother was looking at him expectantly, knife and fork poised, and his mind had still been with the wind and the sea.

“I know the history museum is always looking for volunteers, which looks wonderful on a college application,” his mother continued when Remus had paused for too long.

Remus nodded, hoping to keep his expression pleasant, and cut his pork chop. “Maybe. I was hoping to lean in a little bit of a different direction.”

“Oh?”

“Just sailing, I mean. Racing. There are prizes, some of them with money attached. Good for scholarships, or…”

Remus’ father chewed slowly. “Oh. Well, yes. But you have the mornings to do that. Something more productive with your day, maybe. What are the other boys on the team doing, for example. Maybe ask James or Luke or Thomas. Well, maybe not Luke, given everything that happened this year.”

Remus only nodded again, biting down everything else. But he wanted to race sailboats, run with them, he wouldn’t say. What could be more productive?

“Yeah,” he said instead. “I’ll look into some options around town.”

That, made his mother and father smile.

Julian sat to Remus’ left swinging his legs and looking between them all.

“Can I go out on Wolfsbane?” Julian asked hopefully. Julian, through Remus, had developed an incredible love for Remus’ sailboat and wanted nothing more than a ride.

“Absolutely not,” Remus’ mother said. “Not until you’ve finished your lessons at the Club.”

The Club. Dreaded words. Gryffindor Club, what Remus and Marlene secretly called The Yacht, was the most prestigious private club on the island. You needed a two-member invite. It was beautiful, but it was all walls. Closed off from the rest of the island. People came here, stayed at the club, and didn’t even see. The pools were not the ocean, and the cuisine was not Hogwarts cuisine. Remus wasn’t even sure his parents knew anymore, although he knew they had once. Early on. He didn’t know what had changed. You fall into a crowd, maybe.

He would get Julian out and about one day, when he was old enough. Remus himself spent his time on all parts of the island, in all neighborhoods—almost. He loved Helga more than anything, with its nicknacks and beautiful, dream-like creations.

Except The Hollow.

He’d never gone. Almost, once, on a dare from James when they were thirteen. There were nasty rumors. He’d only seen it from the sea, the deserted sands of Shack Beach and clusters of houses. And the rumors looked true enough. He knew James went sometimes, knew who he was friends with. The only reason he didn’t get shit for it at school was because everyone liked him too much. Remus thought they liked the fact that James could get away with it, too. James could get away with anything. He was a Potter.

Everything except me, Lily always said, and Remus smiled at the thought.

They’d all be out of here in a year anyway. At least for a while. College was like a promise-land. Remus was so sick of this island, but not the ocean. He’d miss the ocean.

The Lupins had been on Hogwarts for nearly one hundred years—a short time, compared to the Evans and McKinnon families. An even shorter time compared to the Potters and Deveaux. One hundred year old new money? Remus thought it was a ridiculous statement but, compared to the other Godric families, they were new. It was relative. Relative money. The Salazar families had been there even longer, Remus couldn’t quite remember their stories.

Remus couldn’t imagine how no one had wanted to go out and see the world. This island was his home. He loved its every shore and nook. But he…wanted. He wanted with the sea and the wind and his Wolfsbane with its twinning pontoons and white sails. It’s tiny below deck cabin that snugged in a bed for nights lulled by the waves. Nothing outside but water and the stars.

After dinner, Remus climbed up the tall, winding stairs to Bane Tower. It had been named by his great, great, great, grandfather, also named Lyall, like his father. A play on words. Lupin, wolf. Wolfsbane. Bane Tower. Sometimes Remus felt like he was just another word game. Remus and Julian. Raised by the wolves.

“It kept him sane, the stars,” Remus’ grandfather had always said. “Quite literally, I mean. Madness runs in our family, Remus. Who knows when it might pop up again. And they kept him almost sane, I should say.”

The stars kept Remus sane, too. They were a map on the ocean, and an escape on land. He didn’t have to think when he looked at them. Maybe that was what was dangerous about them. Hypnotic. Mirrored by the haphazard lights of The Hollow, right along Godric’s shore.

Remus’ grandfather had died of madness. That’s what they said. Remus had watched him go. He missed him.

It didn’t stop Bane Tower from being the perfect place to see the stars.

For Gods, the Potters were good people. Really, for anyone the Potters were good people. They were kind to Sirius, and payed him well. Mostly he looked after their boat, but he would also do chores around the house, run errands for this and that for Mrs. Potter.

It was how he had met James. Really met him. School didn’t count, Sirius had disappeared when he was eleven from his old life and that meant, what friends he might have had at Hogwarts Academy were no more. No one liked a run-away. No one really liked a Black.

The Potters weren’t prejudice. Did they have more money than Sirius could picture? Yes. But they were good. It was the only reason Sirius had even considered liking James again. And still, that didn’t mean he understood why James still hung out with him—them. James was the only one from Sirius’ old life who had decided to reconnect. It was strange. Sirius had nothing to offer him.

It had only gotten stranger when, about two years ago now, he’d brought Lily Evans, who had in turn brought Marlene McKinnon. The boys and the girls had been taught separately when Sirius had still be there, and so Lily and Marlene were vague memories for Sirius. Dorcas—homeschooled—and Marlene were gone for each other almost immediately, and Sirius had theories about Lily and James. None of them had ever brought anyone else, so, Sirius assumed, the rest of his old schoolmates had turned out to be the assholes he expected. Gods in their own territory, up on Olympus, reaping their spoils on the backs of others. Lacrosse playing, secret addicts to something, who drank too much, lived for the summer, and liked boobs more than themselves. Then again, James hung out with those people, too. It was hard to figure out.

But weren’t they all.

“Black!”

James, in all his leather boat shoes and pink swimsuit galore, was jogging up the dock to meet him. Sirius gave a nod, but kept sweeping last night’s rain from the decks, the morning sunshine hot on his neck.

“What’s up?” Sirius said.

“Throwing a party,” James said. “Thought maybe you and your crew would want to come.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “You’re inviting us to a party?” They were famous, Godric’s boisterous parties. Drugs, alcohol, swimming pools, and the ocean. The best mix.

James nodded. “That I am.”

Sirius laughed. “Pots, that place will be crawling with Gods.”

“I thought you liked that sort of thing.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “On our turf, where we aren’t so outnumbered that, when the police show up—because they always do—we’re the ones who get blamed just for existing. And for the Crucio that’ll be there—and don’t try to tell me someone won’t bring some.”

Crucio. Hogwart’s powdery nightmare.

“Fine,” James said. “We’ll make it one of yours, then. Your turf, you name the place.”

“Why?”

James grinned. “Maybe I like transcending boundaries.”

“Maybe Marlene wants to see Dorcas.”

“Maybe.”

Sirius straightened and leaned on his broom, looking at James squint at him in the bright sunlight reflecting off his glasses. He was wearing a navy Castle Lacrosse t-shirt that decidedly did not go with his shorts.

“Maybe,” Sirius said. “But it’s gotta be at Shack Beach.”

James whistled. “That’s pretty deep territory. You know Felix will make its rounds.”

Crucio was the island’s greatest gift, and its greatest curse. Some people called it Crucio, some called it Felix. The drug wasn’t very addictive chemically, but its effects were powerful. Sirius had heard that it allowed the user to hallucinate memories. Past, distant or near. It could keep people coming back for more, time and again, hoping to relive things—or desperate to see something different. Crucio wasn’t addicting, but memories definitely could be. Good thing Sirius didn’t value his past.

Sirius stuck to the name Crucio. It was torture to live like that, not luck.

Crucio meant a good and steady cash flow for the suppliers. Like Dorcas. Sirius and Saint basically lived off of her income—not that she could do much without answering for how she accumulated it. It was a strange gift, a tedious life, but Dorcas seemed to like it.

Sirius stared James down. “And if it does, no cops will show up to tell about it.”

“Deal,” James sighed. “You’re fucking hardcore, Black.”

“Sure,” Sirius said.

“Potter,” came a voice from the end of the dock.

They both looked and Sirius stiffened as soon as he did, feeling self-conscious clutching his broom. Remus Lupin and Luke Deveaux were standing there, aviators on and Castle Lacrosse tank tops. Luke’s flashy Jeep was waiting in the circle driveway of James’ house. It was Luke who had spoken. Remus stood a few steps back. With their sunglasses, Sirius couldn’t tell where they were looking.

“Let’s go,” Luke said simply.

Sirius turned away before they could, pushing rain water harshly into the sea.

“Yeah,” James said, voice softer this time. “Coming.”

Pity. Sirius could practically feel it.

“Ten tonight?” James said to Sirius. “Sound okay?”

“Okay,” Sirius said without turning around.

He felt the vibrations of James jogging back down the dock, but didn’t turn to watch the three Gods go.

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