#i need to collect more yellow things so i can become like how lucy is with pink

[megacarapa]

i had to get a new strap for my watch so i got a yellow one🥰 now i have a yellow phone and a yellow watch🥰🥰 TEEHEE

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 12

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite

Alastair clutched his sharpest dagger in his hand as he followed Thomas to the ruins. He’d been carrying it with him, just in case. His cousin Jem was not fond of his dagger collection, but Alastair had found the daggers could calm him down. He liked moving twirling them in his hand, he liked the way the grip felt in his hands. He didn’t hurt himself, and even if he did he would never use his precious daggers. It was an odd interest, one Alastair had held since he was about twelve and had entered a decorative weapon’s shop with Cordelia by accident. His father had called it all rubbish, nothing compared to cortana, and while that was true, Alastair’s eye had fallen onto a beautiful, but simple and relatively affordable dagger. He’d asked his mother if he could have it for his birthday. She’d warned him, it wasn’t a toy, these were for decoration, but he did keep them for decoration, hanging them on his bedroom wall, occasionally holding them. They weren’t meant for use except under unusual circumstances like this.

He understood Jem’s concern, as a psychiatrist he must have seen many patients who struggled with self harm, but Alastair never had. With the current circumstances, he was glad to have something to defend himself with just in case. He hated not knowing what was coming though. He hated this constant fear that Thomas was right, that something was coming for him next and Alastair had no idea how to stop it.

He would never admit it to anyone but himself, but he was in love with Thomas. It felt a lot like when he’d just started his relationship with Charles, yet also different. It was wondrous feeling, falling in love. Wanting to be near him all the time when Alastair usually preferred solitude, wanting to see him happy and doing anything to make sure he was. The warm, fuzzy feeling when Thomas smiled at him. But there was a reason people called it falling in love, and Alastair had learnt by now that after the fall came the landing.

He’d do anything to keep Thomas safe. He had no idea what he’d do if he died. He didn’t think he could bear it. If anyone deserved to live, to be happy, it was Thomas. He wondered if he should tell Thomas how he felt. He knew now Thomas was gay, but if Thomas liked him, would he ask him advice for coming out to his parents? Then of course Alastair had confided in Charles, had asked him for advice all the time. He’d taken his advice to heart once, thinking Charles was so much older and wiser and knew what was best.

The ruins looked abandoned. Alastair knew there were plenty of ruins in Scotland, but he hadn’t heard of any being at walking distance. Lucie had come here often enough that she must have known about them, her grandmother lived here year round. Usually, ruins did not appear out of nowhere. He could make out the outline of what must have been a building once, an upright wall here and there.

‘This must have been a castle once,’ Alastair said. ‘Considering how big it is. Where are we?’

‘I’m guessing we’re still in the woods,’ Thomas said. ‘Perhaps it’s like in Beauty and the Beast and people are enchanted to not find it.’

Alastair couldn’t roll his eyes enough. ‘First of all, in Beauty and the Beast there was nothing keeping people from finding the castle, they just never did because they did not leave their village. Not that any of that made sense. And if people are enchanted not to find this place, why would we?’

‘I’m sure there’s a story somewhere that describes this,’ Thomas said. ‘Perhaps it can only be found under certain circumstances, on certain days or hours. Oh, there’s an inscription here.’

Alastair walked over to see where Thomas was pointing. ‘It’s in Scottish Gaelic, I imagine. I can’t read that,’ Alastair said.

‘Me neither,’ Thomas admitted. ‘But I’ll take a picture. Perhaps we can decipher at home.’

Alastair wasn’t sure it would be important but it was worth a try. Mysterious ruins no one knew were there had to hold some sort of important clue, right? Alastair remembered what they’d discussed about the possibility of people getting trapped in places by a supernatural entity. Was this what it looked like? He tried not to think about the possibility of being trapped here with no escape.

He took out his phone. No cell reception, but that didn’t surprise him. He took some pictures too, making sure to look at every part of the ruins and see if there was anything of interest. He remembered it all, of course, but being able to show people pictures was easier than dragging them all into his memory.

‘I think there’s a cellar down here,’ Thomas said, standing at a trap door.

Alastair leaned down and tried to open it, but it was stuck. He yanked as hard as he could but no effect.

‘You’re stronger than me,’ Alastair said. ‘Perhaps you should try.’

Thomas leaned down and started pulling. He really was muscular and Alastair caught himself staring at Thomas’ upper arms as he pulled. Part of him longed to touch those arms, those shoulders.

‘Did you start working out?’ Alastair asked.

Thomas looked up. ‘Yes, why?’

‘I’ve been trying to understand how you’re suddenly so muscular.’

‘Some muscle came with my growth spurt,’ Thomas admitted. ‘But I started working out with James too. I found it enjoyable. Do you?’

‘Not lately. I used to train with wooden swords with Cordelia, and I do try to keep active, but I’ve never really gone to the gym. Although I guess it would be entertaining to watch attractive men work out.’

‘You like muscular men, then?’ Thomas asked.

Alastair wondered what he could answer without giving too much away. ‘I’m not necessarily into body builders or the like, but I do appreciate some muscle. It’s not the main thing I look for in a partner, it’s not all about appearance.’

‘So, what do you look for?’ Thomas asked.

‘I like being able to spend time with someone, have fun with him,’ Alastair said. ‘My ex never took me anywhere, it was mostly making out in his apartment and for him it was very much about sex and about fulfilling his needs. But I would like someone who’s not ashamed of me and takes me places. Like going to a museum, or have dinner somewhere. I guess going to a museum is not a very typical date, but I would really like that.’

‘Really? I’ve always loved art and history museums,’ Thomas said.

Alastair guessed perhaps someday he could ask Thomas to go to a museum with him. It made him love Thomas even more, knowing he didn’t think it was weird Alastair wanted to go a museum, knowing he would like that as well. Charles had always thought he was weird, in a way that said “I like you, but other people won’t”. Or perhaps it was more like "I tolerate you but only as long as you can satisfy me."

‘Not everything has to be outside though,’ Alastair continued. ‘I dislike crowds. I would also like to be at home with someone, and just do nice things, cuddle on the couch, watch a movie, play a game.’

He’d missed that with Charles. The best he’d gotten was watching a movie together at his place, but even then Charles had been impatient to finish and start having sex. Charles had never taken him anywhere in public, claiming it was for his sake because what if someone he knew would see them together? But Alastair didn’t want to hide, and he didn’t want a relationship that was all about sex, or all about someone else’s needs. He wanted to feel loved and appreciated. He knew it wasn’t very realistic that would happen though. He wasn’t an easy person to love.

‘I think I’d like that too,’ Thomas said. ‘I never really thought about that, to be honest. I never thought beyond having crushes on boys and maybe going on dates. But it really sounds nice, going to a museum with someone you like.’

Alastair wondered if Thomas would like to go to a museum with him someday. They’d walked through most of the ruins, and beyond the inscription and the closed trapdoor Alastair couldn’t find anything of interest right now. Nor could he explain how they’d ended up here.

A howl interrupted their conversation. It was a loud sound, the howl of a wolf.

‘Come, let’s get out of here,’ Alastair said softly, grabbing Thomas’ hand.

They took the same route back, and not much later another howl pierced the air. Alastair wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but he held his dagger ready to attack, Thomas’ hand in his free hand, gently pulling him along with him. They wouldn’t get separated. They would make it back. They weren’t trapped.

There were no wolves in Scotland, no ordinary ones at least. They hadn’t been in a very long time. There was an old legend of the wulver, but as far as Alastair knew those were friendly and could sometimes be found fishing. Werewolves, though, were another story. In old stories, werewolves were villagers who went into the woods to change into a wolf. Some drank water from the footprint of a wolf, others wore a belt made of wolf fur. They returned to their villages to kill. They were extremely rare nowadays, the methods of becoming one lost. Many that remained no longer changed back into a human, remaining wolf forever.

Thomas gripped his hand tightly, nails digging into his skin.

‘Tom,’ Alastair whispered.

‘Over there.’

Alastair looked in the direction Thomas pointed at and after blinking a few times he saw it too. Even after training with Risa he still needed to make a conscious effort to see. It walked on its hind legs, using its front paws for support at times. Not quite human in built, but not quite wolf either. It was covered in dark gray hair, some bare patches and dark red stains here and there. Its eyes were a bright yellow, its mouth was opened just a little, sharp teeth visible.

Alastair gently tugged on Thomas’ hand, indicating he wanted to continue. He didn’t dare speak. The werewolf hadn’t seen them yet. Alastair hoped they could get past it without being seen. He could be quiet, he could be careful. Thomas followed, taking careful steps, and glancing back to the werewolf every once in a while. It lifted its nose into the air, sniffing in the cold air. Alastair didn’t feel any wind, couldn’t tell if they were on the safe side of it. Likely, there wasn’t any wind and the wolf could smell them. Its head turned, yellow eyes looking into Alastair’s own.

‘Run,’ he whispered.

He kept his grip on Thomas’ hand. They wouldn’t get separated. He wouldn’t let Thomas die. They ran, and Thomas’ long legs easily pulled him along. Werewolves were fast though, Alastair didn’t know if they could stay ahead of it and soon enough he felt something yank Thomas away, forcing him to let go of his hand.

Thomas had fallen onto the ground, the werewolf trailing around him, claws ready to attack. Alastair gripped his dagger firmly and turned back, running straight at the creature.

‘Alastair, get away from here!’ Thomas yelled.

Alastair plunged the dagger into the back of the wolf. The creature howled in pain, and Alastair pulled back his dagger before it turned around and hit him with its claw. Alastair fell over, and he felt warm blood on his shoulder. It wasn’t a deep cut, it couldn’t be, but he was bleeding. The wolf stalked towards him, careful as if to sense if he was still dangerous. It wasn’t dead. It didn’t seem too bothered by the injury Alastair had inflicted. Of course, werewolves were fast healers, only silver was a weakness. And cortana, of course, but he didn’t have the sword. His dagger wasn’t made out of silver.

He scrambled to his feet, dodging another attack from the wolf’s claws. Thomas was behind him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along. They ran, but they could only make few steps until the wolf crashed into him with its full body strenght behind it, causing both of them to fall over. Alastair held his dagger in front of him, desperate for some protection even if the dagger couldn’t hold the wolf away for long. As it slashed with its claw, Alastair struck too. He caught the paw with his dagger, severing it from the body. Warm blood gushed out, but only for a moment. The paw fell. When it hit the ground, Alastair could make out the rough shape of a pale human hand. The wound closed almost immediately, but the paw didn’t grow back. Even a fast healing werewolf couldn’t grow back severed limbs. Good to know.

The wolf came closer, giving him no room to get up or escape. He threw himself in front of Thomas in a hopeless attempt to keep him safe, to be a shield to him. He still held up his dagger. If he was lucky, he could cut off the other paw, but he didn’t think he would be able to behead the wolf with just this dagger.

Then it collapsed onto the ground, losing its body hair in the process and transforming into a naked human man.

‘Alastair!’

Behind where the wolf had been was Cordelia, cortana in her hand.

‘I was so worried!’ she yelled. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Layla,’ he said. ‘You killed the werewolf.’

Alastair scrambled up, and took Thomas’ hand to help him up too. He inspected the body, thankful it hadn’t collapsed on top of him. Cordelia had slashed through it, the head severed from the body. It was an average looking white man, maybe forty years old, with mousy hair. He had no idea for how long the man had been a wolf, there was no way to tell and the man was naked so he couldn’t date the clothing style either.

‘And just in time,’ Cordelia said. ‘You almost died.’

‘My dagger isn’t made of silver,’ Alastair said. ‘Only so much I could do. Thank you for saving us. Why are you here?’

He noticed Lucie was there too, standing behind Cordelia, clutching one of his daggers. Under normal circumstances, he would be very angry someone had touched his daggers without his permission but considering a werewolf had just tried to kill him and Thomas, he was tolerant. He’d probably be more upset if Lucie had come here unarmed. When they returned home, he should give Lucie another dagger. This one was the first he’d received as a gift, too precious to him and he didn’t want to get blood on it.

‘We came looking for you, of course,’ Cordelia said and Alastair had the sense she was angry with him. ‘You were gone for so long, we figured even you couldn’t stay in the woods for the whole day.’

Alastair frowned. ‘A whole day? What time is it?’

‘We left around four in the afternoon,’ Cordelia said.

‘Four? No, that’s not possible. We left quite early. ’

‘We left around eight,’ Thomas added. ‘There’s no way we’ve been gone for over eight hours when you arrived here.’

He took a picture of the dead human with his phone. Alastair wasn’t so sure that was a good idea but he figured they could have that discussion later, and he could always delete the pictures.

Right now, all Alastair wanted was some bandages on his shoulder, a couple of painkillers and a hot bath. Or maybe a bath would only hurt his shoulders more, in which case he guessed curling up on the couch in a blanket would do.

They took the same route back, Alastair looking around to take in as many details as possible. He could go over them again later and compare the details of the walk today to previous days when nothing strange had happened. It was the same path they’d walked on before, but some things were still different. Alastair still didn’t quite understand why they’d found themselves someplace else today.

They made their way back to the Lightwood’s cottage to find both sets of parents there, looking at them in shock. Sophie looked like she’d been crying, and Alastair felt guilty. He liked Thomas’ mother, he didn’t want to make her cry.

‘Where have you been?’ Tessa asked, her voice stern.

‘Is that blood on cortana?’ Will added.

‘We realized Thomas and Alastair had been gone for a long time,’ Cordelia said, changing her sword back into her necklace. ‘We couldn’t reach them, so we went looking. Just in time, because they were attacked by a werewolf.’

‘It didn’t feel that long to me or Thomas,’ Alastair added. ‘One hour, two maybe. We did find something strange, ruins in the middle of the woods we haven’t encountered before. I took some pictures, but we can go over the memory as well if the pictures aren’t clear.’

‘Later,’ Gideon determined. ‘The four of you look terrible. Is anyone hurt?’

‘The werewolf did claw open my shoulder,’ Alastair said. ‘I don’t think it’s deep, but might need to be cleaned and bandaged.’

‘Come, I’ll take a look,’ Tessa said.

He followed Tessa back to the manor. It was a bit far, but Alastair could still walk and he guessed Tessa had more first aid supplies at the manor.

‘I don’t think it’s bad,’ he said. ‘I feel it, but I can still move my shoulder.’

‘I’ll need to see it before I can make any judgements,’ Tessa said.

They entered the house and Alastair sat down on the couch while Tessa gathered some supplies.

‘Please take off your shirt,’ she said.

Alastair did, wincing in pain. Tessa inspected the injury. ‘It’s been a while since I did this. But I used to work in the emergency room as a doctor before I turned to research.’

Alastair vaguely knew Tessa had a PhD in medical research, but wasn’t sure which field. He didn’t know she’d worked as a doctor before that, although he guessed it made sense she’d started out there before turning to research.

‘You’re right that the wounds are very superficial, but with a wild animal attack I would recommend a rabies shot,’ Tessa said.

‘Right now?’ Alastair asked, very unmotivated to go to a hospital.

‘Not necessarily, but don’t wait too long,’ Tessa said. ‘If you don’t, and you get rabies, you’ll die. I’ll put on some bandages and let you rest.’

When Tessa was finished bandaging the wound, Thomas entered. His brown hair was a little damp and he’d changed into a clean green shirt and blue jeans. He looked worried. Alastair tried to sit up. He was suddenly very aware that he was half naked, his shirt discarded somewhere. It had blood on it, and a hole where the wolf’s claw had carved through it. He should probably throw it away, which was a shame because he liked that shirt. Thomas was staring at him, Alastair could tell. Would he like what he saw?

‘Are you alright?’ Thomas asked.

‘I’m better now, the wound is thoroughly cleaned and covered. Tessa didn’t think stitches would be a good idea considering the infection risk,’ Alastair said.

Thomas sat down next to him, his cheeks a little red. ‘I was so scared today.’

‘I know. Me too.’

‘You threw yourself in front of me.’

‘I wanted to protect you. I had a weapon, you didn’t.’

Thomas put his hand on Alastair’s. ‘You could have died. You had every opportunity to get away while it was focused on me.’

Alastair shook his head. ‘It would have caught up to me. We both would have died if Cordelia hadn’t shown up when she did. I can’t believe our luck.’

‘Can I hug you?’ Thomas asked.

A bit reluctant, Alastair consented. Thomas pulled him into a hug. It was an unfamiliar sensation to Alastair, Thomas warm hands on his back, careful not to touch his injury, feeling him so close, feeling his rough breathing. Thomas’ hair was damp, he smelt of vanilla. He must have taken a quick shower before coming here. Alastair leaned in, his head against Thomas’ chest. Thomas was warm, and it felt nice to be held like this. He felt safe and protected, and for Alastair a sense of safety was scarce to come by.

‘I was scared of dying,’ Thomas said. ‘But watching you die would be far worse.’

‘Don’t be dramatic, Tom,’ Alastair scoffed. ‘You barely know me.’

‘That’s not true. I’ve gotten to know you a lot in the past week, and I have much enjoyed our time together. And I realized… I… I love you.’

Thomas let go of him, as if to await his reaction. Alastair was tempted to put a shirt on, very aware of Thomas’ eyes on him. At the same time, he liked the attention, hoped Thomas would think he was beautiful even if Alastair had never felt that way. A bit uncomfortable and cold, Alastair instead grabbed the blanket on the couch and wrapped it around him as he tried to process the shock of Thomas’ words and find a proper reply. He suspected the blanket belonged to Lucie, it was decorated with Lilo and Stitch.

He knew he should say something, but he couldn’t find the words. Part of him believed he’d hallucinated what Thomas had just said, because it couldn’t be true, could it? Why would Thomas love him? What was there to love?

‘I’m sorry,’ Thomas said.

‘What for?’

‘You obviously don’t feel the same way, and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you with my feelings.’

Alastair looked at Thomas, trying to read his face. Was he serious right now?

‘I do feel the same way, you fool,’ Alastair said, staring at Thomas in disbelief.

Thomas seemed to freeze in the moment, hazel eyes wide, his mouth slightly opened. Before either of them could say anything, Tessa returned with several medicine boxes.

‘Here are some painkillers,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ Alastair said, taking two paracetamol. If that wasn’t enough, he could always add some ibuprofen.

‘Gideon and Sophie are on their way here to cook, you must be starving,’ Tessa said. ‘Alastair, be careful with that shoulder, give it some rest.’

Tessa returned to the kitchen, presumably to start preparing. Alastair realized he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and apparently it was now on the late end for dinner. It felt odd, since Alastair was fairly certain he hadn’t been gone for a whole day. It felt more like lunch time.

‘You look adorable with that blanket,’ Thomas said with a small smile.

‘I’m cold,’ Alastair said.

‘I’m not judging,’ Thomas said.

‘You were,’ Alastair said.

Thomas said nothing.

‘Come on, you definitely were.’

‘Can’t you just accept that you’re cute?’ Thomas asked.

Alastair made a show of rolling his eyes. ‘Alright.’

‘Can I kiss you?’

‘What?’

‘You said you liked me too. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for some time. So I figured I’d ask.’

‘I expected you’d just initiate. Asking is nice though. Keep doing that, I like it.’

Charles had never asked permission for anything. Charles usually initiated, he had been the one to decide what would happen and had assumed Alastair was fine with whatever he had in mind. And Alastair had pushed himself to accept things he wasn’t comfortable with too, terrified to disappoint. Terrified he would be abandoned if he didn’t do whatever his lover wanted.

He could not have anticipated how amazing it would feel to have Thomas ask him for permission to kiss him.

Thomas didn’t say anything else, just leaned in and closed his eyes, allowing their lips to meet. Alastair suspected Thomas didn’t really know what he was doing, but that was alright. He took control of the kiss, grabbing the front of Thomas shirt with his good hand. Thomas put his hands in his hair, gently tugging at the strands. It usually annoyed him when people messed with his hair, but right now it was a tangled mess anyway, and he had to admit it felt kind of nice.

They broke apart, faces still close, and looking into each other’s eyes. Thomas’ hazel eyes seemed like a mixture of colors this close and Alastair could see the light reflect in them. He felt a desire for more, but wanted to take it slow. This wouldn’t be like Charles, no rushed or pressured decisions. It would be gentle and sweet and they would have all the time in the world.

He leaned back, and pulled Thomas along with him, Alastair laying down on the couch on his back, the blanket slipping from his shoulders. He didn’t mind now, he allowed Thomas to admire him. Thomas looked a bit awkward, trying to find a comfortable position without crushing him. Alastair would probably be able to take Thomas’ weight, he liked being underneath a lover, just the right amount of pressure on his body to feel comfortable.

Although maybe not now with his shoulder injured, that was just going to hurt a lot.

‘Tom, your parents could be here any minute,’ Alastair said.

Thomas only shrugged. ‘Kissing a boy in front of them saves me having to write a speech. And I really don’t want to stop kissing you.’

‘Are you sure?’ Alastair asked. ‘You don’t want to give a speech?’

‘I’m sure,’ Thomas said. ‘I just want to kiss you.’

Alastair had nothing to say against that, and kissed Thomas again, gently opening his mouth and slipping his tongue inside. If someone had walked in, he probably wouldn’t even have noticed, too caught up in the moment. Thomas’ mouth tasted of strawberries, he must have eaten some before coming here.

After Charles, Alastair had never imagined another chance at love, and certainly not with someone as kind and beautiful and perfect as Thomas Lightwood. Part of him was still convinced he was too difficult to be loved. He pushed all thoughts of something bad happening to Thomas to the back of his mind and indulged in the moment. When they broke apart, they just sat lay, breathing carefully. Thomas’ hand in his hair again, wrapping strands of it around his finger.

After a moment Alastair decided with his injured shoulder, this wasn’t the most comfortable position for either of them, so he sat back up, climbing into Thomas’ lap, arms around him.

‘You’re a good kisser,’ Thomas said.

‘You will be too, with some practice,’ Alastair said. ‘Was that your first kiss?’

‘It was,’ Thomas said. ‘I’ve never been with anyone before. But I’ve also never felt about anyone like I felt about you.’

Alastair frowned. ‘Really?’

‘Really,’ Thomas confirmed. ‘I don’t fall in love easily. I’ve felt attracted to other boys at times, but I rarely really fall in love. When I do, it doesn’t really go away though. I’ve loved you since we went to school together.’

‘Since school? But I was awful to you back then. I’d done nothing to deserve it.’

‘You don’t always love the people who deserve it,’ Thomas said. ‘Back then, it was more of a schoolboy crush really. You were so mysterious and beautiful, yet I saw you were sad too. I could tell you didn’t mean what you said, I could tell you were in pain and I wanted to know what broke your heart, what let such bitterness spill out. And then I heard about you from Lucie, when you went to school with her. Although I still didn’t understand you, she confirmed you weren’t awful at all since you stood up for her and I felt like I was right, there was something special about you. And now this past week, I feel like I’ve finally seen the real you. And I don’t just mean that sadness, I mean your interests, your love for books and long walks. How you can rant for hours about the evil of capitalism and how passionate you are about wanting change. So my feelings have changed over time, but it’s always been you I wanted.’

Alastair found it difficult to believe, but he could tell Thomas was sincere. It was difficult to believe anyone could love him, he guessed. He still felt too broken to be loved, undeserving of it. He wanted to believe Thomas though, he wanted to make this work. He wanted to silence the voice in his head that it was impossible, that Thomas couldn’t possibly love him, because who could love someone like him? The voice was wrong, and Thomas gentle touch allowed him to push it to the back of his mind for now. Perhaps someday it would disappear for good.

[theolsentimes]

Ashley Olsen Spills Her Secrets

The personal-style icon and force behind two thriving fashion lines gives us a peek into her closet, and her life.

Written by Lucy Kaylin (Marie Claire, 2009)

VIEW GALLERY

There's something genius about seeing the chicest girl in New York all dolled up in tacky cowgirl fringe. I'm sitting with Ashley Olsen at a table in her Greenwich Village town house, looking through a scrapbook—compiled by her great-grandmother—that pretty much tells the story of her and Mary-Kate's blistering rise. The pages are filled with gently yellowed clippings from local newspapers chronicling their toddlerhood on the sitcom Full House through their early years as a two-headed pop-culture juggernaut: the Olsen twins on the publicity circuit in genie costumes; in fairy costumes; in terrycloth robes; in penguin suits; in trenchcoats; in mini-mogul drag; in, yes, cowgirl fringe ... "I look back at the things that we did and the clothes that we wore, and I think, Wow, we really were troupers," says Ashley—although, gazing at some hideous flowered overalls she was put in at age 6 or 7, she has to admit, "I remember really loving those." What comes across in the photos is the degree to which the girls' lives were engineered. "It was almost like I was in the army," Ashley says. "School, work, homework, fly to New York, get in at 2 in the morning, do a morning show at 5 a.m., then another one at 7, then a radio interview at 10, you know?" Cutesy, coordinated outfits were just part of the drill. The pressure was intense and the scrutiny even more so — "That's why I look at Britney, and I'm surprised I didn't end up like her."

To see Ashley now, it's difficult to fathom that part of her life. At 23, she is very much the master of her own fate, and an icon of defiant personal style. Today she's wearing beige corduroys made exponentially cooler by the fact that she's ripped them up the side seams from hem to shin—and the fact that she's owned them since she was about 15. (Understand: She never, ever throws out clothes. The genie and penguin costumes? All stashed in storage units in L.A. warehouses.) She's paired the beige cords with a signature piece from her and Mary-Kate's fashion line The Row—a supersoft white T-shirt with an artfully stretched-out neck, the short sleeves of which she likes pushing up over her shoulders. Add black flats without socks, tuck the fine blonde hair up under a floppy skateboarder's cap, and the look—at least on her—is just hip and effortless and right. "I think you're either born with a sense of style or you're not," Ashley says in her small, soft voice, giving her knuckles a loud crack. "Either you care or you don't. And we"—she and Mary-Kate—"love fashion. When we were going to NYU, I think that was the first time we were aware of the power of our personal style. Not the power of it, but the result of it. Between the big sunglasses and the Starbucks cup and the big sweaters, the hobo-chic thing, we were more shocked than anything"—by the endless commentary and tabloid coverage. "I get it; we were fortunate enough to have really nice clothes, and we put them together in this raggedy way. My mom wears glasses this big"—she mimes massive goggles—"from the '70s, and you wonder where we got it from?" She laughs. "The dark eyeliner, the scarf around the head—it's just so interesting and natural." Her family, she says, was "very bohemian." "Mary-Kate and I are very aware of trends and style, but at the end of the day, we don't even think twice about it. It's just, What do I feel like wearing today, and how do I want to put it together?" To some extent, Ashley buys the theory that years of being manhandled and styled bred an intense desire in both girls to dress themselves. Eventually, that meant cutting down and altering designer pieces to suit their petite frames—a habit that persists rather feverishly to this day. "The amount of beautiful things we've ruined—not having the patience for a tailor and cutting everything ourselves … My sister once took an Alaïa dress of mine and just cut the whole thing, and then she was like, 'I cut it too short.'" Ashley has to laugh. "Mary-Kate and I don't think about fashion as these clean, beautiful objects. We just kind of wear it and live in it"—and make it their own. When she bought the Daytona watch that's currently on her wrist, she promptly changed the white face to black and the gold links to a crocodile band. In other words, fashion is a way the otherwise elusive Olsens express themselves—most notably through two clothing lines that are somehow thriving despite the cataclysmic retail climate. Ashley and Mary-Kate collaborate closely on Elizabeth and James (named for their siblings), a line that commingles softness and toughness—for instance, slouchy boyfriend jackets and shirts with a flirty ruffle. The idea is to create "a tug-of-war in something with a masculine spirit and a feminine attitude," says Neiman Marcus Fashion Director Ken Downing. "The girls keep nailing it season after season after season. And they single-handedly brought the legging back into fashion." While Mary-Kate tends to conjure the overriding concepts—playing with movie references from Oliver Twist to Hook for the fall '09 collection—Ashley hones in on zippers and buttons and fit. "Nothing gets by them," says their Elizabeth and James partner, Jane Siskin. The Row, meanwhile, speaks more to their desire for a closetful of what Ashley calls "high-end basics": the perfect blazer, the just-so T-shirt, the cashmere sweater that sort of melts in your hands—with intriguing twists like a seam running up the back. "I just really wanted to make beautiful things," she says. "An educated garment." According to Debi Greenburg, owner of Louis Boston, "Because Ashley's a bit of a type A personality, there's perfection in the way the clothes fit, the way they're cut, that translates on the body beautifully. The Row has become one of my stellar collections here." Ashley leads me through a few rooms of her town house, haphazardly decorated in battered leather chairs with arms worn down to the stuffing; on the walls are a rare Basquiat self-portrait and three works by Keith Haring that she got at a pawnshop for $30 apiece. In the corner is a drum kit from the Wii game Rock Band, Ashley's new obsession (she plays it at least two hours a night). "I swear to you, it's brought out this whole new thing in me," she says. "I can be a very serious person, and I take my job very seriously, but at the end of the day, I need a break." Her boyfriend, The Hangover's Justin Bartha, also helps in that area. He just called from a press junket in Europe; Ashley signed off with, "Keep your phone by the bed" and "I love you." To say the least, it's been a relief for this pillar of self-sufficiency to have someone she can count on, who puts her ambitions in perspective. "It's more important than anything else in the world," Ashley says.

[happosity]

The Best Love Quotes Given to Us from Literature

Reading romance novels allows you to fall in love over and over again. Here is a collection of sweet words that you can keep close to your heart.

1. "My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever." —Jane Austen, Pride & Prejudice

2. "Who, being loved, is poor?" —Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

3. “Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.” —Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

4. "Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same . . . If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger." —Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

5. “If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.” —A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

6. "He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking." —Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

7. “But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me.” —Pablo Neruda

8. "Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one's life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps . . . perhaps . . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath." —Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea

9. “Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.” —Percy Bysshe Shelley, Prometheus Bound

10. “So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.” —Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

11. “You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought.” —Arthur Conan Doyle, The White Company

12. “He was my North, my South, my East and West, my working week and my Sunday rest.” —W.H. Auden, “Stop All the Clocks”

13. "All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love." —Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace

14. "If I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If we were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one." —Michelle Hodkin, The Evolution of Mara Dyer

15. “For you, a thousand times over.” —Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner

16. “Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be.” —Robert Browning, Rabbi Ben Ezra

17. "Doubt thou that the sun is fire, Doubt that that the sun does move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt that I love." —William Shakespeare, Hamlet

18. “When we love, we always strive to become better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too.” —Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

19. "I have waited for this opportunity for more than half a century, to repeat to you once again my vow of eternal fidelity and everlasting love." —Gabriel García Márquez, Love In The Time Of Cholera

20. "Do I love you? My god, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches." —William Goldman, The Princess Bride

21. “Just in case you ever foolishly forget; I’m never not thinking of you.” —Virginia Woolf, Selected Diaries

22. "We love the things we love for what they are." —Robert Frost, Hyla Brook

23. "Every lover is, in his heart, a madman, and, in his head, a minstrel." —Neil Gaiman, Stardust

24. "I was about half in love with her by the time we sat down. That’s the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty . . . you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are." —J. D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

25. "To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life." —Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

26. "You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.” —Margaret Mitchell, Gone With The Wind

27. "You pierce my soul. I am half agony. Half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever." —Jane Austen, Persuasion

28. "I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for their religion—I have shudder'd at it. I shudder no more—I could be martyr'd for my Religion—Love is my religion—I could die for that. I could die for you. [. . .] My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you." —John Keats, A letter to Fanny Brawne

29. “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” –Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

30. "If you ever have need of my life, come and take it." —Anton Chekhov, The Seagull

31. “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” —Pablo Neruda, Sonnett XVII

32. "I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be." —Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

33. "I have for the first time found what I can truly love—I have found you. You are my sympathy—my better self—my good angel—I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wrap my existence about you—and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one." —Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

34. "Is love this misguided need to have you beside me most of the time? Is love this safety I feel in our silences? Is it this belonging, this completeness?" —Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Half of a Yellow Sun

35. "Explain! Tell a man to explain how he dropped into hell! Explain my preference! I never had a PREFERENCE for her, any more than I have a preference for breathing. No other woman exists by the side of her. I would rather touch her hand if it were dead, than I would touch any other woman's living." —George Eliot, Middlemarch

36. "You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful." —John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

37. “It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how I love him; and that, not because he’s handsome, Nelly, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same . . .” —Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights

38. "I do love nothing in the world so well as you—is not that strange?" —William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

39. “I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than any woman has ever loved a man, but a half hour after that I knew that what I felt before was nothing compared to what I felt then. But ten minutes after that, I understood that my previous love was a puddle compared to the high seas before a storm.” —William Goldman, The Princess Bride

40. "Always." —J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

For more romance, check out www.happosity.com.

[hotsummersimpingogacc]

bohemian rhapsody cast as today's teens

an: i got this idea while peeling potatoes so.

joe mazzello - the tiktoker

if this isn't obvious then idk what it

joe is definitely a tiktoker

because he just has this vibe

he's the class clown who's not even trying to be funny

like, he's not trying at all, it confuses him when people tell him that he is one

but one summer day when he's bored he thinks of this and creates a tiktok account

he finds it kinda cringe at the beggining but sooner or later it gets better and this becomes an obsession

he starts doing 10 tiktoks per day, only thing he thinks about is his new video

people are slowly finding his acc and some people find him funny

when people start recognizing him in the hallway he feels super flatered because he knows that his videos are actually funny and original

yeah, he can be a little narcissist about it, but wouldn’t be we all?

gwilym lee - the soft boy

he’s little nerdy

he’s like “i know more than you do and i’m gonna tell interesting facts you don’t care about”

he may seem very annoying with it to other people who don’t know him, but once you become his friend he often tells you stuff about stuff you love because he cares about you and wants to know about your passions more

he’s like the perfect friend

gwil helps you with homework no matter subject it is from [ okay maybe not languages ] 

he wears glasses 100% of the time

he’s always there for you no matter what

he rides on skateboard and wears vans all the time

his favorite color is yellow 

he also owns a collection of printed shirts like there’s a section in his wardrobe that is filled with flower shirts

ben hardy - athlete

he can’t like EVER hang out because he either has training or match

but when he does hang out he’s the best person to be around

since everybody knows him because he’s doing good in sports he can get you anywhere

all sorts of parties, restaurants...

even though he might seem like he’s tough and some bad boy he is the nicest person on planet earth

he has the best sense of both humor and style, he’s hot and really sweet

but that’s not the only thing that defines him of course

it can be misleading to someone but he’s also super clever

he’s not that basic jock boy who only cares about sport and how hot his body is

rami malek - eboy

i wouldn’t call him a 100% eboy

he has that sense of style

dark clothes, chains and lots of rings

he also has that hairstyle

and when he’s really bored he does a little heart under his eye

he’s definitely not that “eye roll” type of eboy

he looooves to wear black overalls

nobody knows when it got to him or how but he cannot stop wearing them

he thinks they’re very trendy and all girls at school think that too

also long socks and and ripped jeans are his thing 

he can be little edgy sometimes 

he used to pretend he’s skating but he really was not he walked all the way to school and like 2 streets before entering the school area he hoped on the skate and tried to do tricks he tried to learn at 2am but couldn’t learn because his mom yelled at him for being too loud

lucy boynton - the aesthetic vintage girl 

exclusively shops in thrift shops but owns a pair of gucci shoes which match every outfit

knows every thrift shop in 20 miles radius

can always find best pieces 

helps her friends with their clothes because she knows what they need to dress trendy

she also reads a lot of book, mostly poetry because that’s aesthetic™

her favorite band is beatles but she won’t pass on good indie music

her instagram is full of flowers, sunsets and pictures from fitting rooms

some people follow her for daily dose of cloud pictures with aesthetic music in background

she loves her flowers and her room is filled with them along side cutouts from old vogue magazines she stole from library

an pt. 2 : idek what is this. i finished after having it for 2 months in my drafts. but i guess it’s good {?}. also these are just my opinions yours can be different and i’d be happy if you shared them with me <3 

tagged

@queen-irl-af​ @royalydamned​ @diablvna​

if you wanna be tagged please let me know <3 :)

[elleonmybeloved]

Field Day

Title: Field Day Author: PinkPerfume Fandom: Shall We Date? Obey me! Pairing: Asmodeus/MC Rating: Teen & Up Chapter: 1/? Tags: Demon & Angel Blood AU, Demons are slightly larger than in cannon by about a foot or two each, Secret Crush, Awkward pining, Asmodeus is hoe-rny as usual, Flirting, Leading up to that explicit rating in the second chapter cause you know me Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25145122/chapters/60926767

Summary:

Once a week, the human exchange students, accompanied by the seven demon brothers as well as Lord Diavolo and a few of his subordinates make a trip to a rocky place out in the wilderness of the Devildom to conduct physical testing on the humans’ developing abilities. Mary-Catherine and her fellow once-humans aren't sure why Lord Diavolo injected them with the demon and angel blood that gave them their abilities, but participation in the testing is mandatory. But if you forget the part where they're being tested like lab rats, it feels a lot like a fun school field day! Complete with packed lunches and a friendly sense of competition.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I hope you’re ready to eat my dust this time. I’ve grown two inches since last week.”

“Don’t get a big head. You got dog demon blood, not speed demon. Besides, not being able to spit acid at obstacles in your way is gonna slow you down.”

“I’d really appreciate it if you stopped doing that. Just because you look a lot more like a snake now doesn’t mean you need to act like one.”

“- Demon cobra. Not just a snake.”

“I know you’re proud of that, but honestly, I’m more jealous of the girl who got hawk demon blood. You know she has wings now, right?”

“What?! They shouldn’t let her participate in the race, it’s totally not fair.”

“It’s not actually a race, you guys.”

“Just because they’re testing us doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun with it. Lord Diavolo encouraged us to be competitive.”

Excited chattering and the rumble of the vehicle’s engine made for a charged atmosphere that Mary-Catherine was enjoying listening to, leaning her head against the glass of the window to hide her amused smile at the antics. Choosing to survey the odd shapes of plants and pigmented rock passing by outside as she listened, she angled her head so that the small tightly curled horns at her forehead weren’t scraping against the glass.

Once a week, the human exchange students, accompanied by the seven demon brothers as well as Lord Diavolo and a few of his subordinates made the trip to a rocky place out in the wilderness of the Devildom to conduct physical testing on the humans’ developing abilities.

Piled into some kind of all-terrain vehicle with such ridiculous ground clearance that Mary-Catherine had needed assistance to haul herself up into it, they were shuttled to the testing site. The vehicle was huge and had several rows of seats, so everybody just called it “The Bus.” Before them on the long straight road, the Demon lord’s sleek black limo - driven by Barbatos - led the way down the path.

Turning off on the dirt path, they pulled up to the site. As the passengers - twenty-five strong, counting the brothers - filed out of the vehicle, they cordoned off into groups like a separation of oil and water.

Mary-Catherine confidently placed herself next to the people she knew best. Donte - a young man with horned-toad demon blood who she’d never seen not dressed up in attractive punk outfits that suited his dark brown curls and yellow-green striped horns perfectly. Despite all the purple dust out here, she had yet to see any of it attach itself to his outfit.

Meanwhile, both her thick cargo pants and her usual red tank top already had a few purple smudges.

To his left, Emma, a curvy young woman in all black whose sharp feline teeth glinted against her dark lipstick, and though the pair of furry black ears at the top of head twitched invitingly, you’d have to be stupid to touch them - or any part of her - without her explicit say so. Her claws were just as sharp as her eyeliner and stung quite badly.

Mary-Catherine had never heard her give anyone that say so. Only repeated threats to anybody who would listen about just exactly the kind of dark apocalypse she would continuously rain on Diavolo and the demon brothers & co. until they returned her cat Lucy to her, or vice versa.

Standing aloof with a familiar thoughtful expression to her right, a picture of elegance and maturity that M-C only hoped she’d one day achieve, was Annika. The blonde witch had a silent strength and seemed the least phased about her residency in the devildom of all the humans Mary-Catherine knew. She even stood up to Lucifer on a regular basis.

Mary had to avoid flinching like a startled lamb every time he looked in her mere direction. In her defense, she was part sheep now, and she had no reason to believe demon sheep were any braver than those in the overworld. Though as recent months had attested, they had the same urge for salt and were about 5 times faster than a regular one running at full tilt.

Once given their instructions, and oddly-shaped “evaluators” to attach to their D.D.D.s, the four of them plus a few she was less familiar with made off for the climbing ground. As usual, the groups moved around three areas in a rotation. A rock-littered circuit of road for testing speed, agility, and endurance, a level field of purple grass and several small, dead-looking trees with painted orange Xs on them that served as a combat ground for testing offensive abilities, and a large outcropping of porous green rock to test their ability to scale rough vertical terrain.

Something of a makeshift security team, the demon brothers spread out to stand their usual guard over the three groups. Considering their powers and how each demon towered at least a foot over any regular human even in their “human” forms, on their very first outing Mary-Catherine had foolishly assumed none of the other occupants of this realm would dare try to attack the group.

Grimacing as she tied up her hair and prepared to climb, she tried to blink away the image of the explosion of goop and gore and the charred remains that had been left of the few dissenting demons who’d scarcely touched her human companions before Satan had reduced them to pulp. Though unsure of how Lucifer had torched the ones who’d gone after his group, she was pretty sure she’d never get the image of their blackened skulls out of her mind.

“What’s with the long face? You’re still the reigning champion of this rock, goat-girl.”

Looking up, she recognized the self-proclaimed “cobra��� guy from earlier on the bus. Despite his competitive statement, the grin on his face was friendly. His curly black hair and olive skin tone made for a vivid contrast against his vertical pupiled green eyes. She’d seen him a few times at breakfast and wasn’t certain but she thought his name was Kevin?

“Oh nothing. I was just wondering if they were going to make me lick more rocks today. Kind of reminds me of when I used to chaperone church summer camp and all the kids would collect rocks and dare each other to hold it in their mouth for twenty seconds or eat a worm.”

Mary-Catherine paused, “-But my horns alone would’ve been even more scandalous than the time one of the adults caught someone with a Harry Potter book sooo I guess it’s not really that similar!”

“Oh trust me I doubt my mamá would be happy to see what I look like now, but that doesn’t mean I would say no to a chance to become spiderman.”

“Hey, if anybody is becoming spiderman, I think it might be me.” Donte spoke up from behind them, looking incredulously at his hand which was pressed against the wall of rock. “Check this out.”

He then demonstrated how with an odd suction noise, his hands clung to the rock of their own accord. Prying them off and then repeating the motion, he got better at the detachment process with each press.

“Maybe poisonous demon frogs can stick to things?” Mary-Catherine mused. “I watched this discovery channel episode on tree frogs once that explained how their secretion of toe pad mucous-”

“-Mucous?!?” Donte scrutinized his hands in dismay, but after finding no such secretions he breathed a sigh of relief. “The only thing getting on my hands is this rock while I climb it’s ass. See you at the top!”

Pressing the start button on her evaluator, she climbed up after him, hearing Kevin start his descent as well. She’d gotten a bit of experience with this sort of outdoors stuff at previously said church-camp, but that was nowhere near her current condition, as she easily overtook both of her human companions with no regard for the steepness of her path. Back then, she’d needed a hardness and ropes. Now, she sought out each handhold instinctively like the top of the rock was calling her.

“At least I’m not bleating.” She sighed, and from below her Kevin barked out a laugh.

“I imagine it would come out sounding more like a warbled growl.” He said. “I’ve seen the pictures you know.”

“Hey- don’t go looking at a girl’s demon pictures!” A girl lower down on the rock called up to them.

Mary-Catherine blushed and hastily pulled herself up the remaining few feet of the rock and rolled to the side as she clicked stop on her evaluator.

“Not her pictures, the pictures of whatever they injected her with!” Kevin complained, but M-C could hear the mirth in his voice.

Walking over to a smoother patch of rock, she sat down to wait for the rest of them to finish their climb. Gazing at the ground far below her, she noticed Emma and Beelzebub talking next to a couple of camp-chairs.

She had noticed before that as an act of cat-less mutiny, Emma often refused to take part in the tests, but as M-C watched her speaking amicably with the demon beside her, who was eating… something round and dripping a brightly colored liquid she could make out from here, Emma gestured towards the rock several times with a wistful expression.

Rising to get a better look, Mary-Catherine began absent mindedly stretching, catching her ankle and bending her leg with a gentle pull.

It was a bit too far for her to make out exactly what they were saying - though some of her genetically enhanced fellow humans probably could - but M-C imagined that Emma was saying something along the lines of how much she wanted to climb the ‘actual shit outta that rock’ but wouldn’t budge an inch until they gave her back her precious Lucy. Beel seemed to nod sympathetically and despite not halting in his eating process, continue the conversation.

And then he moved to grab another of whatever it was he was eating, revealing the other demon who had come to watch over the climbing group. Having used the absolute swole unit of his demon brother’s body to provide him with shade, the Avatar of Lust reclined elegantly in - well it wasn’t really a camping chair, but it looked like it could be collapsed and relocated - his seat, meticulously painting his nails.

Freezing awkwardly midstretch, both arms clasped high above her head, she was for the hundredth? thousandth? time struck by just how gorgeous of a man Asmodeus was. Not a man, she reminded herself, a demon. Good Lord in Heaven, those arms… he had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows to avoid getting nail polish on his shirt, and it exposed the beautiful lean muscle of his forearms. Burnt amber eyes focused intensely on his handiwork, his pale perfectly shaped lips pursed in concentration… he had an angular face that made him look like both like the dangerous being he was, and a sculpture of an angel at the same time.

As if aware he was being ogled, he paused his preening and turned his head, looking up her way at the top of the rock. Panicking, she hastily looked elsewhere, pretending to continue her stretches as if she hadn’t been meaning to glance in his direction…

Nothing to see here!

Soon the others joined her at the top of the rock, and with the protection of anonymity, Mary-Catherine risked another gaze his way.

Oh good, he’s back to working on his nails.

Getting caught looking at people was so awkward, hopefully he hadn’t thought anything of what he saw of her brief gaze. She was pretty sure she was safe, it was unlikely he was that interested in any measly humans anyways.

“So what was your score?”

Mary-Catherine spooked so hard she jumped, turning to give Kevin a wounded look.

“You’re a jumpy one, huh? Must be those prey instincts. Well, what was it?”

“A minute and forty three seconds.” Mary-Catherine said, wondering what kind of predator hunted sheep demons. Probably had lots of teeth.

“Guess I just need to be a minute and fifteen seconds faster next time.”

“I’m sure you can do it.” She said, giving him an encouraging smile. “If they ever decide to hand out a prize, you’ve got it in the bag.”

“Now there’s an idea.” Donte piped up, moving into step beside them as the group began to descend the smooth sloped side of the rock. “I already know what I want as a prize.”

“What do you want?” She couldn’t really think of anything a demon would have to give as a good present. She’d seen their food. And the mall. They had weird taste.

“Not telling.” Donte said in a cheeky tone that even she could read as being… salacious in nature. Annika gave him one of her disapproving mother looks and it just made him sprout a mischievous little grin.

“I’ve had my eye on a spellbook in Satan’s library I would very much like to have.” Annika said, as if trying to steer the conversation off the downhill path it was otherwise going. It was a good thing Emma wasn’t here or that’d be a moot effort.

“Uhhh, boring!” Kevin crossed his arms. “Come on guys, we’re practically in hell. I want a weapon or something with strong dark magic powers.”

One of the other girls agreed with him, and began a very enthusiastic conversation about swords and axes and other sharp pointy things. Mary-Catherine considered the question herself for a few moments, but the only thing she could think of was for Lucifer to give her her Bible back. He’d taken it away a couple weeks ago after she’d done something he hadn’t approved of and used it as an excuse to confiscate the book. She wasn’t even sure how he’d known she had it, but maybe he’d been under the false impression that she was religious?

Normally she wouldn’t have been upset about such a thing, but even though she was no longer the good devout Catholic girl her parents had raised her to be, her grandmother had given her that Bible. They’d been quite close before she passed away five years ago to lung cancer. She was much too terrified of the fallen angel to even try to get it back though. Regardless, as far as prizes go that was a bit more personal than she was comfortable with sharing.

“I think a week off school would be nice!” She said instead, and was met with a resounding murmur of agreement from the crowd.

“How about a whole month?”

---

Under the protection of Belphegor and Leviathan this time, Mary-Catherine and her group took turns sprinting on the track. Unsurprisingly, Kevin’s dog demon-blooded friend blew all competition out the water. Once that guy got started he was like Usain Bolt on steroids. Though she put in the effort expected of her to avoid getting chided, M-C didn’t bother to run full tilt. She didn’t really like this part anyways. It was the most like a test, grueling and repetitive instead of fun, and reminded her of how she was here against her will.

She was grateful when they broke for lunch, gathering around a few hastily erected plastic tables. Taking the brown bag and two water bottles, she found a somewhat shady spot to sit under a scary looking tree and redid her sagging ponytail, lamenting the state of her side braid. She downed a whole bottle of water before getting into her food.

It was kind of funny, it was the same typical sandwich chips and apple combo she was used to on outdoor events like these, but the meat was purple and the lettuce that poked out at the sides was bright red. The fruit looked like an apple, but tasted like an orange and was the color of a banana.

She’d learned to just trust Lord Diavolo to know what humans could eat, and didn’t ask what everything was anymore. One of the transfer students had been curious at breakfast and as a result she had become aware of the fact that on several occasions she had ingested eggs from a reptilian demon species called an angiphore which looked like a cross between a platypus and one of those monstrous looking fish that lived really deep in the ocean.

The thought made her choke on her mouthful of water and most of it escaped out her lips down her throat to soak into the fabric of her top above her breast.

“Oh, gosh darn it.” Of course she had nothing to dab at it with. Well, at least the cool water felt kind of nice dripping down her neck, as hot as she was after such rigorous exercise.

“Oh my, looks like someone overestimated how much they could swallow~”

Mary-Catherine scarcely had time to process that someone had managed to approach her so silently before, bending elegantly at the waist, Asmodeus himself was already pressing a handkerchief against her neck with a chiding tut.

At her stiff reaction, he smiled, looking very much like the cat that ate the canary. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of sweetie, you’re not the first one to do such a thing.”

Mary-Catherine flushed and searched for a sufficiently indignant reply, realizing he was making fun of her. But before she could come up with something, he moved in closer, dragging the cloth against her bottom lip. It was such a shamelessly demanding motion, silencing her with ease.

“You must’ve been thirsty, poor thing.” He crooned, and M-C decided to swallow her pride and just enjoy the opportunity to get such a close up look at his gorgeous face. At this angle, she could see how long his strawberry-blonde eyelashes were as they brushed the smooth, immaculate skin of his cheeks.

“It’s… pretty hot.” The words were already on her mind, so unfortunately that’s what came out of her mouth instead of denying such an obvious trap.

It was worth it for the delighted, full-teeth grin he made. “I agree.”

His fingers skirted the hem of her tank top, and with a gentle pluck, he lifted the fabric to dab a few times at the wet top of her breast. But instead of lingering, with a simple wink, he retracted the handkerchief and stood up before she could even begin freaking out about it.

“Thanks.” She said when her brain caught up, as he started to leave.

“Any time, honey.~” He replied without turning back, and was soon out of sight.

Mary-Catherine gave a dry swallow and reached for her water bottle.

~~~

The rest of the afternoon proved uneventful. Oviumalum, or the certain species of demon sheep blood she’d been injected with, apparently had the ability to rapidly elongate and thrust out their 4 sets of horns in front of them like some kind of projectile impaler. Their horns were also a key ingredient in a certain type of hallucinogenic drug, when ground to a powder.

The meager set of horns on Mary-Catherine’s forehead was sharp, and made of the same components, but so far showed no signs of developing any projectile abilities. As such, she simply had to hold still while they took a sample of her horns, ears, and tail and then was free to sit on the sidelines for most of the hour.

Lucifer had handed her a textbook about the properties of various demonic plants and encouraged her to study during the downtime.

“Like many here, you would do well to improve your academics. Here.” He’d said in that aloof tone, like she was some filthy human bug under his boot.

“Oh…” She’d said. “Well, actually, that’s-”

“You’re welcome.” He’d cut off her attempt to decline with a glare. “I hope I see an improvement in your grade reports soon.”

Mary-Catherine couldn’t help but shut up after that and bitterly open the book in obedience. His crimson stare, like the blood she was sure he was not hesitant to shed, was just too frightening. But, more interested in watching the increasingly bizarre developing abilities of her fellow humans, she’d just skimmed the pages and pretended to read.

Beside Lord Diavolo’s delight at Donte’s newfound ability, nothing else of note happened. It was amusing to watch Emma claw several inch deep scores into a variety of materials she’d never assume could even be scratched, so that’s what she’d done until they’d blown their whistle to announce that it was time to return to the House of Lamentation.

Now, she was trailing after the gaggle of tired, test-tried students, thinking about whether she was going to bathe, sleep, or eat first when they got home.

“Heeyyy, M-C!”

Looking up from where she’d been zoning out staring at her D.D.D, she glanced around. Had somebody called her name?

“Mary-Catheriiiine!!” A girl was jogging towards her, waving a hand to get her attention. It took her a moment, since it wasn’t someone she was very familiar with, but she connected the face to a name before the girl reached her.

“Yes? - Um, Hoya, right?”

“Yeah.” The girl said, smiling with a - ah. Shark demon blood. - large set of teeth. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course! What is it?”

“I lost my ring up on the rocks.” Hoya said, pointing to the climbing wall. “I can see where it is but I can’t reach it myself. Can you get it for me?”

“Sure!” May-Catherine chirped, but then bit her lip. “Uh, did you tell Lucifer? It’s time to go and I’ll be fast but we’re going to make them wait…”

“Don’t worry, I told him. He said it’s fine as long as I hurry.”

“Oh. Okay!” M-C said, but couldn’t help squinting a little skeptically.

“...He said they’re leaving in ten minutes with or without us.” Hoya admitted. “But it won’t take us that long!”

Mary-Catherine was already moving. “Oh gosh, well I hope you didn’t mention my name…”

Hoya jogged next to her, long smooth grey tail wagging oddly like a dog. “Uh, I did. Sorry!"

Mary-Catherine groaned and high-tailed it to the rock.

[accio-kitty-malfoy]

A Breath of Fresh Hair

Chapter Four: Memories

Chapter Four: Memories

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633025/chapters/59662606

When Harry got back to the kitchen, Arthur and Lucy were carrying baskets of vegetables into the kitchen from the garden.

“Those vegetables are looking magnifique, Arthur.” Fleur exclaimed, and Arthur thanked her, eyes sparkling with pride.

“Well, I’ve had a fantastic little helper.” He grinned, ruffling Lucy’s hair. She giggled, swatting his hand away.

“I can’t wait for the food at the wedding. I mean, the food here is always lush but I’m sure Ron and his mum have outdone themselves with the menu.” Dean looked off into the distance with a faraway look on his face, as though he was imagining the food.  Arthur rummaged around in one of the cupboards for a while, letting out a triumphant “aha!” when he found what he was looking for. He held up a stack of large buckets so everyone could see them.

“Who wants to help me pod some peas?” He asked, distributing the buckets between people as they all agreed. He pulled Lucy onto his knee when he’d done giving the buckets out and carefully showed her how to pod the delicious peas. Dean watched carefully too, smiling proudly to himself as the small green spheres popped out and fell into his bucket.

“The Secret,” Arthur whispered theatrically, the whole room leaning in slightly to hear the revelation, “Is to eat some of the peas from every fifth pod, for quality control.” He held one of the peas out for Lucy and she sucked it up out of his hand, giggling.

 As more people came into the kitchen, they began helping to sort through the vegetables, putting them away however they needed to be stored. Harry made everyone cups of tea and when Ginny came down, they gratefully accepted theirs. They looked around the room nervously, but everyone just acted normal, or smiled reassuringly. Some of the tension seemed to leave their shoulders and they relaxed into helping with the vegetables.  Neville and Arthur chatted excitedly about Arthur’s next plans for the garden and Seamus offered to make him some more raised beds. Harry looked around at the smiling, happy faces and a wave of affection for his friends and family washed over him. When Audrey walked into the room, she pulled Ginny into a hug.

“Percy’s sulking upstairs at the minute, but he’ll come round.” She whispered into Ginny’s ear, before picking up a drowsy, heavy eyed Lucy and taking her into the living room to put her down for a nap.  They could hear Audrey singing softly to the little girl. When Lucy had fallen to sleep, Audrey went back into the kitchen to see if anyone needed any help with anything. They gratefully accepted her help and she got stuck in.

 Hermione and Ron arrived later with Hermione’s parents and fish and chips for everyone. They decided to eat outside as the weather had cooled slightly, making it a lovely late afternoon. The sweet smell from the flowers that Neville had been working on wafted in the air, and Arthur provided the group with more cider, but this time he gave fresh lemonade to the people who weren’t drinking.

“This cider is to die for, Arthur.” Hermione’s dad, Christopher, wrapped a large, muscular arm around Arthur’s shoulders. Christopher towered over Arthur, but he was one of the sweetest, jovial people that Harry knew. Jenny, Hermione’s mother, rolled her eyes at her husband.

“Don’t mind him, he doesn’t get out very often with work, and when he does it’s to go golfing with his colleagues. He looks bloody ridiculous in those damned socks.”

“Now Jen, you’re just jealous I won’t let you steal them, aren’t you, my love?” She swatted him and Hermione shook her head, telling them to behave. Molly remarked that at least Christopher didn’t have a collection of multicoloured wellies; something that Arthur had discovered a couple of years before. It was not tradition for people to try and find the most outrageous ones they could for him. The last pair that Harry had bought were pink with yellow rubber ducks in bobble hats printed on them. Arthur had nearly cried with joy when he’d opened them.

 As the sun began to go down, the flowers that were entwined around the gazebo opened, revealing twinkling lights within them.

“I will never get tired of magic.” Christopher sighed. We were so proud of our Hermione when she got her Hogwarts letter. McGonagall came to visit us to explain it all and I just couldn’t believe it. Our girl, going away to train to be a witch. Of course we never imagined what she’d go through, but she’s strong, stronger than we ever could’ve imagined. I can’t believe what a beautiful, smart, caring, strong, independent young woman our little girl has become. Well, that’s a lie, I can; just look at her mother.’ He looked at Jenny and Hermione in turn, his eyes misting with pride. A lump rose in Harry’s throat and he had to look away. The conversation soon turned to memories and achievements. Harry was thankful that no-one mentioned anything to do with Voldemort, but instead spoke about the more mundane, yet still amazing, things that everyone had been working on since the war had ended. While the adults were talking, Lucy was running around the garden playing with the dogs. Percy had come down for food before leaving again, insisting that he had lots of work to do. Ginny sat as far away from him and they could, purposefully not talking to them but instead conversing with others around the table. Harry didn’t blame them.

 People split off and went to their respective rooms or hung out in the kitchen or living room when the sun had finally gone in completely. Harry went up to his room to read for a while. He enjoyed reading so much more than when he was in school. He was in the middle of a book called ‘The Magic Cottage’ by James Herbert at that point and he looked forward to reading it each night before bed. He found it to be a brilliant way to relax his mind and therefore fall to sleep easier. He also usually didn’t have nightmares if he read before bed. It was something that the mind healer that he’d seen after the war had suggested. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t still have nightmares; he often woke up in a cold sweat, shaking. Sometimes he could calm himself down, but usually he got out of bed and sat in his desk chair, looking out of his window and the moon and stars. A lot of the time he thought about Sirius. He sometimes wrote letters to him, trying to put his thoughts, feelings, confusions and worries down into words. It made him feel like someone was looking over him. Of course, he missed his mum and dad, but he’d never really known them. Sirius and Remus had been tangible. He’d known them and loved them and learned from them.

 He put his book down and wandered over to the wardrobe. There was a box at the bottom of it and he pulled it out. Lifting the lid, he took out a bundle of pictures. They were polaroids and depicted his mother and father’s transition from youth to adulthood, along with their friends’. The first one was James in his first set of school robes. He was stood next to his mother, Euphemia, who was grinning proudly, red Sari shining in the sunlight outside Madame Malkin’s. The next was four young boys standing in the Potter’s garden. They must’ve been around twelve, as it was taken at the end of the first school year. James was in the centre, ruffling Peter’s hair and laughing. Sirius was stood somewhat stiffly next to him and Remus was caught in a half yawn, auburn hair falling into his eyes. There were more of the boys from that summer, and the summers after. In each one Sirius seemed to relax, though he still retained some of his pureblood arrogance. Harry stared at the next one for some time. It was one of Sirius after Sirius had run away from home and started living with the Potters. It had ‘My first Eid with my real family’ written on it in Surius’ loping handwriting. In the picture Euphemia and Fleamont stood at either side of the boys. They were all dressed in traditional Indian clothing and Euphemia had beautiful, intricate henna designs twisting around her fingers and up her arms. Harry had learned that James and Sirius had helped her with them, and Sirius had been particularly good at it, taking a lot of care to get the design exactly right. Sirius’ eyes looked sunken and he looked pale; the picture had been taken mere days after he’d left home, but he looked happy. As the boys got older the pictures began to include his mother. Her skin was fair and freckled, and her hair was long and red. Her friends also appeared in the pictures. There was Mary, a small girl with blonde hair and blue eyes that crinkled as she laughed. Then there was Marlene whose afro was so big that she was often bending down in the pictures to make sure all of its magnificence was captured. There was also Dorcas who was tall and willowy with long, straight brown hair and chocolatey brown eyes. As they got older, the pictures also began to include looks between Remus and Sirius that they obviously thought were sly and discreet, but it was obvious from a mile off that they idolised each other. In the picture of them all on the day that they left Hogwarts, James had his arms wrapped around Lily, kissing her wetly on the cheek. Peter was stood Proudly at the side of them with Mary, Marlene and Dorcas next to him. Mary had her hand around Marlene’s waist and Dorcas had her hand on Marlene’s shoulder. Remus and Sirius stood on the end, holding hands and obviously lost in one another. There were more pictures of the group from that day, some individual one and some with other friends. Harry had one of his parents with Neville’s parents and he’s made a copy of it and given it to him. The next set of pictures were post-Hogwarts. There were some from his mother and father’s wedding; a glorious mix up of Indian and western traditions were depicted in them. One of his favourite pictures was from when he was born. Remus was carefully holding the tiny baby Harry, smiling widely at the camera. Sirius had his arm thrown around Remus’ shoulders, but he wasn’t looking at the camera. It was as though he couldn’t take his eyes off Remus with baby Harry nestled into his arms. Sirius looked like the proudest, happiest man alive at that point.

 It was this picture that Harry was looking at when he heard his door creak open. He lifted his head to see Ginny poking her head around the door.

“Mind if I come in?”

“Not at all Gin.” He replied, moving the pictured to give them space to sit on the bed. They spent a little while looking through some more of the pictures, making comments about each one. Harry carefully put them away when they’d finished.

“Did you want to talk to me about anything Gin?” Harry asked, sliding back to sit against his headboard.

“The letters.” They said, thinking carefully about their words. “I’ve been talking a lot with Luna lately. I mean, we’ve always spoken a lot; she’s one of my best friends, but we’ve speaking a lot more lately. I thought that she might be able to help me understand some of the feeling’s I’ve been having about my gender lately. I remember when she came out as trans when we were in school and I spoke to her about it a lot. She always seemed so secure in her knowledge of who she is, but I’ve just felt so confused for so long. I wondered if I was trans, but when I really spoke to her about it, I realised that there really was more than just male and female. She really helped me to understand that it’s okay that I feel like this and that I’m not just confused, and I don’t have to ‘pick a side’. The only problem is that I think I’m in love with her and I know she’s not interested in me that way. Or, I didn’t think she was but the letters have been getting more frequent and longer and I think we might even be flirting. But I don’t know. I don’t know if that’s just me wishful thinking or just completely making it up in my head because of how I feel, and I don’t even know if I just feel this way because she’s been so nice to me and I’m just thankful that I’ve had her to talk to and thankful that she understands me. But then again you’ve been super lovely and I don’t want to kiss you.” They took in a deep breath and looked up at Harry. “No offence.”

“None taken.” He laughed, drawing Ginny into a hug. “It might take some time to work your feelings out. You’ve not seen her for a while have you?” He asked. “Maybe when you see her at the wedding and speak to her in person it might help you to make sense of a few things in your head”

“Yeah.” They sighed. “Or maybe I’m destined to always have something that I’m confused or panicking about for the rest of my entire life.” They flopped backwards into a laying position on the bed.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out Gin, you always do.” Harry assured her. They spoke for a while longer before Ginny left to go back to their own room and Harry settled down to sleep. That night his dreams were filled with his parents, their friends and a hair salon.

[burncrashbromance]

Bloom - Masterpost

This is the entirety of my fic ‘Bloom’ in one post, since I figured people might want to read more it if it’s all in one place. :)

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Original Female Character but she’s mostly undescribed

Words: ~13k

Description: Hogwarts AU where the main character, Lucy, gets paired with Luke for an herbology assignment. Lucy’s not looking forward to spending time with him since he seems like a bit of a douche, but she soon finds out she may have judged him too hard.

Chapter 1

Herbology is easily my worst subject. It’s embarrassing to be a Hufflepuff who is bad at what seems to be the defining subject for our house, but then again I’ve always hated clichés.

The greenhouse is packed with students and the day is sunny, so it’s nice and toasty in here. Too bad that I feel out of place. Professor Sprout is explaining something at the front of the class but I’m lost in thought looking at the plant in front of me; it’s got bright yellow flowers and is softly humming a soothing tune. We can’t touch it though; it bites. Or so I’ve been told. The gloves I have on have multiple scratch marks on them already; a testament to my lack of green fingers. My friend Alix nudges me in the ribs and my head snaps up right when professor Sprout seems to be talking about an assignment.

“You’ll be paired up and the exercise is to take care of the plant in front of you for a month,” she explains, pointing at the plants in front of us, “You have to write up a report of how it’s doing throughout the month and need to bring it to class. If you take care of it well, the plant will be fully grown at that point and the flowers should emit a full song that can cure most headaches.” I look over at Alix and want to snort. There’s no way I can keep this alive. That’s not cynicism; it’s realism. Luckily though, Alix is the epitome of a garden witch and if I pair up with her, there’s no way it can go wrong. Alix has been my best friend since I started here, and we’ve been through a lot together. An assignment like this should be a piece of cake with her. But then Professor Sprout takes out a piece of parchment and clears her throat again. The parchment unfolds comically, but it’s less funny once she starts talking.

“For this exercise, I’ve paired you up. This way you’ll learn how to work together with someone new, which is an important skill in herbology.” Panic surges through me as I look across the room. Brigette, my other best friend, looks at me and shakes her head, as if she’s saying ‘don’t fuss, Lucy, you’ll be okay’. Well, how can she know? I swallow hard and wait to hear my name. This class is comprised of sixth-year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. I know most people by name, but a lot of them I only have a vague idea about. I mostly keep to myself and my friends, so I’m not exactly popular.

“Alix Bridgewater and Nolwenn Sweet.” Professor Sprout calls out, and I see Alix’s shoulders sag in relief. Nolwenn is a kind girl. I see Alix give Nolwenn a nod, her brunette bob swaying a little.

“Jake Holmes and Brigette Masters.” Brigette rolls her eyes as Jake points finger guns at her, the Gryffindor excitedly standing next to her. Ok, so Sprout is not pairing me up with my friends, which I should have expected. But then who? The pool becomes smaller and smaller as more names are called out, people pairing up at an alarming rate.

“Lucy Graves and Luke Hemmings.” I choke on air a little bit and look at the Professor, surprised. Luke? I look to my left and Luke just smirks at me, not showing any emotion. And why would he? Luke Hemmings is not my friend. In fact, I’ve done my best to avoid him and his band of friends as much as possible. As far as social circles go, him and I are on the opposite sides of the spectrum. Is this some kind of joke? I don’t even know if he’s any good at herbology. If we’re both bad at this, we’re screwed. Professor Sprout dismisses the class after she finishes reading her list and I turn to Alix again, sighing.

“So, you and Luke, huh? That’ll be interesting.” She says as we lift up the pots with the plants and place them in their respective holders at the side of the greenhouse. Even with my careful handling, the plant still manages to snag my index finger as I set it down.

“Kill me now, please. I’ve never even talked to him before. You got off well with Nolwenn, you lucky bastard.” I say, looking down at the plant I’m supposed to keep alive. Poor thing.

“Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s just some homework. You don’t have to become his best friend.” I snort.

“As if Luke and I could ever be anything but acquaintances.” I take off the gloves and tuck my hair behind my ears. Brigette painted the ends purple with a spell a few days ago.

The truth is that I’ve never considered Luke to be someone I could get along with; he seems cocky at best and is probably rude at worst. There’s no use trying to become friends with someone like him, he wouldn’t give me the time of day anyway. This assignment better be over fast.

“Well, better get that acquaintance started. He’s coming over.” She winks and turns on her heel, joining Nolwenn and Brigette at the end of the greenhouse. I close my eyes for a second and collect myself. When I face Luke, my face betrays nothing.

“Hi, partner.” He says simply. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“Hey, partner.” I shoot back, gauging his reaction. He just smirks again, tucking a strand of errant blond hair behind his ear. The sun lights up his curls. He’s easily two heads taller than me.

“So, how do you want to do this? Professor said we need to do some preliminary research. Meet in the library this weekend after Quidditch?” He suggests. I look at him, taken aback.

“Uh, yes. Sure. Meet you there.” I say, eyeing his face. He looks back at me, completely neutral. He nods at my reply and says bye. And that’s it.

I’m the last to leave the greenhouse, questioning what my life has become.

Chapter 2

The weekend comes around and Alix needs to remind me that I need to calm down.

“Seriously, what’s gotten into you? I thought you didn’t like Luke.” She says over a spoonful of porridge. I squirm in my seat and shoot her a look.

“I don’t like him. It’s just making me nervous that I need to talk to him. He seems like… like…” I struggle to find the words.

“Like someone you could like?” I groan and push away my breakfast plate, half uneaten. Alix doesn’t understand.

“We’re just so different, that’s it. I don’t feel comfortable spending time with him. He’d never even look at me unless he had to.” I cross my arms over my chest and rest them on the table.

“Sorry to be harsh here Lucy, but you don’t have a choice. And come on, it’ll be okay. He at least seems like he actually wants to put in some work.” Brigette chimes in. I have to agree with her on that. I sigh and shake my head.

“Okay, that’s it. I’ll have to suck it up and just go for it. In any case, I hope he knows more about herbology than I do.” Alix snorts and we keep chatting about nonsense until finally it’s time for Quidditch.

Gryffindor are playing Ravenclaw today, so the Hufflepuff stand is quieter than usual. Some people have donned different house colours to support friends from other houses, but my friends and I just wear our usual clothes. I spot Luke in the crowd, which isn’t difficult. He easily towers above all of us. He’s wearing two scarves; one Ravenclaw and one Gryffindor. He looks a bit silly but he somehow makes it work.

The match is a hard fought one, but Gryffindor end up beating Ravenclaw by 20 points. I involuntarily watch Luke and see him cheer for both teams equally. I wonder what’s up with that. I see Alix looking at me from the corner of my eye now and again, but she says nothing. When the match ends, we pack up our stuff and leave the stand. People are pouring out of the stadium, talking excitedly.

“Quite a match, wasn’t it? That Ashton is quite the Beater.” Brigette says as we make our way down the stairs.

“Ashton who?” I ask.

“Ashton Irwin. He’s one of the Beaters for Gryffindor.” I nod and rack my brain to remember who he is. I must’ve seen him, but I’m not sure.

“Lucy wouldn’t know, Brig. She was too busy looking at Luke.” I roll my eyes so hard they might fall out of my head, and I shoot daggers at Alix.

“Alix, please! I was just wondering why he was wearing two scarves, that’s all. Since when have you become so attuned to everything  I do?” I shoot back, only half annoyed. Alix can be astute, but she’s still my best friend.

“Since you’re being weird, my friend. But I’ll drop it, seems like it’s a sensitive subject.” She winks as she says it, but I don’t reply. It’s no use anyway.

Lunch is an odd experience. The Great Hall is still buzzing from the match, the Gryffindors being applauded as they walk in. I’ve never quite understood the fuss about sports, but that’s just me. Brigette and Jake are in a heated debate about the best kind of fertilizer to use for their plant, which is uncharacteristic for her. It’s like she enjoys riling him up. Anyhow, it’s quite entertaining.

After lunch, I run up to my dormitory to collect some things. As I check myself in the mirror before I leave, I smooth down my hair and straighten the skirt I’ve put on. Being out of uniform on the weekends is one of the small ways in which I find a little freedom, since we all look the same during the week. The shirt I’m wearing has a Muggle band on it that I adore, and I’ve put on slightly more makeup than I usually would. The dark lipstick complements the purple in my hair nicely. I think to what Luke and I agreed on. We’re supposed to meet in the library. I’ve never seen him in there before, but I have to admit that I never specifically looked there for him, either.

Alix is off with Brigette to sit outside on the castle grounds to enjoy some of the good weather. I sit down at a vacant library table and take out some parchment and a quill. The library is quiet, which is probably due to people studying outside since the weather has been so nice lately. I play with the hem of my skirt as I wait, thinking of things that could happen. I always do that. Mostly they’re disastrous scenarios.

So far, Luke has been exactly like I imagined he would be. Distant, trying to be suave, tall. You can’t really act tall, but somehow he does. I’m trying to figure out why he makes me feel so weird, but I can’t put my finger on it. I just tell myself it’s because he seems like the kind of person who would pass me by without a second glance if we weren’t in this situation.

Five minutes after I’ve sat down, Luke walks in, his bag slung over his shoulder. He’s in his regular clothes, like I am, except he somehow makes it look more special. He’s wearing striped pants and a black shirt, a leather jacket over it. When he sits down, I realise I’ve been staring.

“Hey, Lucy.” He says, and I smile, almost involuntarily.

“Hi, Luke.” I take up my quill and start fiddling with it. He eyes my hands and looks at me.

“So, you ready for the assignment?” He asks, taking out parchment and a quill of his own. Some of his parchment is earmarked but when he starts writing, it’s neat and precise. His head is bent over the parchment, carefully jotting things down. The curls on the top of his head threaten to tickle my cheek if I don’t sit away.

“I was thinking of making a list of properties for the plant first and then explaining them. And then maybe we could see what properties our plant develops during the month.” I’m once again taken aback by how down to business he is. No fooling around, no comments. I don’t know if that’s better or worse than I expected.

“Uh, I’m really not good at this. But yes, what you said sounds good.” I say, and I feel foolish. I need to make myself sound at least a little smarter. I tuck my hair behind my ears, a nervous habit, and speak up.

“Perhaps we could check on the plant every other day, and note the changes?” I propose, and he nods.

“Yes, I was thinking that too. Keep a close eye on it. Maybe we can meet at the greenhouse every other day and write together? That way we’re sure we’re doing equal work.” All I can do is nod. Luke looks up from his writing and smiles a little at me.

“Is something wrong? You’re very quiet. I see you with your friends and you’re never that quiet then.” He looks down at the table when he stops speaking, and I stare at him. How does he know that?

“I… I don’t know. I guess because I don’t know you that well.” I manage to get out, and I want to sink into the ground. It’s the truth, but it also feels like the worst excuse ever. Hey, Lucy, why can’t you behave like a normal person?

“Well, then we should get to know each other. I’d rather have a partner who talks than someone who only nods, no offense.” I want to bristle at his comment, and I almost bite something back, but I realise he’s being quite reasonable.

“That’s fair. Although I wouldn’t know what we could talk about besides the assignment.” I say, turning my quill over in my hands.

“Then let’s start there.” He says simply.

And just like that, Luke Hemmings somehow becomes my friend.

Chapter 3

 “Okay… the flowers are definitely changing from yellow to orange.” I observe, Luke taking notes on the piece of parchment on his lap.

“Their song has changed, too. The melody is more complex.” Luke says without looking up. We’re sitting on stools in front of our plant. I try to water it gently and almost get my finger bitten straight off.

“Damn! Stupid teeth.” I pull back my gloved hand and inspect it. The greenhouse is once again bathed in light, the atmosphere nice and warm. This is day 4 of the assignment. So far, Luke and I have talked about nothing but plants, and that’s been going well, somehow.

We made the list of properties, pouring over herbology books and piecing it together. Apparently, this plant is quite special, not only because it sings, but also because it’s labelled as ‘quasi-sentient’, which creeps me out. Luke explained to me that plants like that can develop bonds to people, remember the sound of their voices, read their emotions, even react to it. I try not to shiver at the thought of a plant trying to comfort me when I’m sad. The last thing I’d want is a plant with teeth in my vicinity.

Aside from that, he’s also seen me be a complete idiot at herbology, when I tried to look at a special kind of cactus and it almost exploded in my face. He pulled me back right before it happened. I’ve noticed, though, that Luke has a bit of a façade going on. Not that I know him that well. But I’ve noticed he loses a little of that nonchalance whenever it’s just us two talking.

“It’s a miracle you’ve made it to sixth year.” He says, and with a bemused grin, I realise he’s teasing me. Putting my glove back on, I think of what to say.

“Well, it’s a miracle your cheeks haven’t set themselves permanently in that smirk of yours.” I shoot back. I stand up from the stool and stretch my legs a bit. We have class in an hour; I didn’t think we’d be done so fast with the assignment today. Keeping this plant alive is not such a big deal, as it turns out. Luke figured out a schedule to water it and keep the soil fresh, making it that much easier to stay on track. All I’ve done so far is getting scratches.

“That’s fair. Anyway,” he says, standing up next to me, “where are you heading? I’m meeting my friends in the Great Hall.” I tell him I’m meeting my friends there as well, which is just great. More time to talk.

“How are they doing with the plants?” Luke asks, clearly trying to keep up the conversation. I can’t imagine him actually caring that much.

“Well, Alix says she’s doing fine, but Brigette is having some difficulties with her partner.” I don’t feel like expanding on that, so I divert the question.

“How about your friends?” I look over at him and am greeted by his blue eyes looking back at me. I’d never before noticed that he has kind eyes. Why am I noticing that?

“Ashton’s lost, I think his partner never shows up for their meetings. I’ve been helping him out a little. Calum and Michael somehow got grouped together, which is unfair, but maybe Sprout thought they weren’t friends since they’re always making comments at each other.” I laugh, shaking my head.

“Isn’t Ashton in the Gryffindor Quidditch team?” I ask, thinking back to my conversation with Brigette that day of the match. Luke nods, and he holds open a door for me as we make our way through the castle.

“Yes, he’s their Beater. Calum and Ashton have a bit of a friendly rivalry going on; Calum is the Beater for Ravenclaw.” I nod, things slowly clicking into place.

“Oh! Is that why you wore both scarves?” I ask, and I scrunch up my nose when I think about how that sounded. Luke just laughs.

“Yes, exactly. You saw that?” Well, how do I respond to that? Better to be vague.

“Yes. Uh… I saw you in passing that day, you stood out with the scarves, that’s all.” I don’t know if that did any damage control at all. I clear my throat and thankfully, we arrive at the Great Hall.

“Well, see you in class!” I say quickly, waving and walking off. As I walk towards my friends, I notice a small group of boys in varying house robes. They look at me when I walk past them, which is odd, until I hear them call Luke’s name. So those are his friends, then.

“How was it?” Alix asks as I sit down. I don’t know what to say.

“It was… oddly pleasant. We talk about plants the whole time, because I wouldn’t know what else to say. Luke’s somehow not as distant as I thought he was.” I say, not really realising what I’m saying. Alix quirks an eyebrow.

“What did you base that on though? You never talked to him before.” Alix remarks.

“I don’t know… he walks around like he owns the castle. I just thought that meant he really was like that.” Alix laughs, but it’s a gentle laugh, as if she’s indulging me.

“People can surprise you, you know. Your opinion of him is something you control, not him.” She puts away some books as I process her words.

“So you’re saying I’ve judged him without knowing if any of it was true?” I ask, trying to make some sort of conclusion.

“Basically, yes. And now you’re realising he’s not who you thought he was, and you get confused. It was exactly the same when we first became friends.”

That’s true. Alix and I met on the Hogwarts Express on the very first day. At first I didn’t even say anything because she intimidated me so much. I imagined she must be really tough and scary, even though we were both 11. But then she introduced herself and I learned that she was the opposite of what  I had assumed. Later, I confided in her what my first impression had been.

Alix really is wise beyond her years. Which also means that she dishes out some hard truths. And usually they’re truths I need to hear. 

Chapter 4

I’m going to do something I might regret.

Luke is packing up his things after our little meeting at the end of the day. Our plant is growing nicely, somehow surviving my terrible attempts at keeping it alive. We’ve entered the second week of the assignment, the days going by at an alarming rate. Our report is growing steadily as well, so we might need to cut some bits from it when we hand it in since we have so much data. Aside from that, Luke and I have been spending more time together, of course. We talk about other things besides plants sometimes now, which is weird. It’s also the reason why I’m about to say what I’m half dreading to say.

I gather my courage as I say his name.

“Luke?” His head turns to me and a soft smile is on his lips. He has dimples in his cheeks sometimes, especially when he smiles like that.

“Yes?” He says, prompting me to go on. I try not to show any nerves.

“I wanted to ask if you feel like working on the assignment tonight. We have some extra writing to do since the plant is developing so much and-“ My question dies on my lips as he begins to frown. Why did I think this was a good idea? Even if it’s about homework, why would he want to spend even more time of his day with me?

“I’ve actually got some potions homework to do tonight. I’m way behind.” He says, turning to me. I eye his face and conclude he’s not making up an excuse; we do have potions homework.

“You mean the essay on amortentia? Can I help you with that? I’m bad at herbology but potions is my best subject.” I say, not knowing if I’m overstepping a boundary. Luke smiles brightly.

“That would be great! Are you sure it’s not a nuisance though? You don’t have to help me.” My heart sinks a little, and I’m unsure how to reply. I do anyway.

“No, I mean, I’ve already finished it and I’d like to be of help. It’s not a problem.” I stand up and throw my bag over my shoulder. The cardigan I’m wearing feels hotter than usual.

“Then yes, I’d appreciate it. Find me after dinner?” He asks me, and I nod. He smiles at me again and I smile back, the tension in my shoulders easing a little. I don’t know what has gotten into me lately, but spending time with Luke somehow makes me want to spend more time with him. I really did judge him too harshly before.

***

“And then he, and I’m not exaggerating, took our plant and it bit him right in the face! He’s with Madam Pomfrey now, she almost had a fit when she saw him.” Brigette is telling an exciting story about how her assignment is going. Alix laughs and I stir my pasta around on my plate, only half listening.

“Jake is a weird one.” Alix remarks, and Brigette hums in agreement.

“And how are things with Lukey?” Alix asks me, prompting me to drop my fork. I look at her and see that she and Brigette are sharing a look.

“Lukey? Is that new?” I ask, laughing. Alix shrugs.

“A nickname seems appropriate somehow. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Things are good. The plant is alive and we’re getting along. Actually…” I say, trailing off. I don’t know if I even want to tell them, but I’ll have to.

“I’m helping him with homework tonight.” I say, looking down at my plate again. Brigette makes a small sound of surprise and I can practically feel Alix’s eyes burning into the side of my skull.

“You mean with the assignment? I thought he was the one helping you?” She says, confused.

“No, it’s potions. The essay we have to turn in at the end of the week.” I finish my plate and wait for it to disappear.

“So you’re hanging out?” Brigette asks. She pushes her plate away as well, and rests her chin in one of her hands.

“I guess so. But it’s still for school, it’s not a big deal.” I say, and I know they don’t believe me. Why are they so pressed? It’s not like it means anything. Even though thinking about spending more time with Luke is making me feel some kind of nervous. But I was the one who asked him to hang out, so it’s my own fault. I’m confused even by my own thinking.

“Of course, Lucy. We’re just teasing you. When are you meeting him?” Brigette asks, digging a spoon into the pudding that just appeared in front of us.

“I’m supposed to find him after dinner, so he’ll be here somewhere.” I say, looking around. I think I see him sitting at the end of the table, near the Professors’ table at the front. He’s laughing about something with some people. I look away when he turns his head.

“Sounds good.” Alix says, and we silently finish our dessert. Alix is meeting Nolwenn at the greenhouse and Brigette feels obligated to visit Jake, so they leave me after dessert. Alix can’t help but wink at me though. I stand up from the bench, trying to do it as dignified as possible, which is a challenge. I look at where I saw Luke earlier but don’t spot him. Frowning, I cast my gaze over the room, finally finding him at the Ravenclaw table, where he’s sitting with the other boys I saw a couple of days before. It makes me nervous that I need to pull him away from his friends, but there’s no use procrastinating. I walk over to the long table, trying to be casual.

When I approach, I recognise Ashton and he looks at me, beaming. They’re joking about something when I get there, and the conversation lulls.

“Lucy! You ready to help a potions disaster?” Luke says, standing up. His tie is loose, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. His collarbones pop out slightly and I pull away my eyes from them.

“Uh, yes. Are you ready?” I ask, feeling a slight blush creeping over my cheeks.

“He’s ready, don’t worry.” A Slytherin boy says, and I look over at Luke again.

“Right, that’s Michael, resident smart ass. This is Calum and this is Ashton.” They all do a little wave. They look funny together, all representing a different house. But they seem to be okay. Why did I think they would be douchebags? Once again I’m faced with my own prejudice. I wave back at them and smile, not knowing what else to do.

“Let’s go.” Luke says, and I join him as he walks in the direction of the double doors out of the Great Hall. I wave goodbye at the rest of the boys again and Calum and Ashton look at each other, as if they’re sharing a private thought.

“Sorry about my friends, they’re weird sometimes.” He says, pulling a hand through his golden hair.

“Don’t worry about it. They seem nice, though.” I say, speaking the truth.

“You sound surprised.” He observes.

“Oh? Yeah, I don’t know. I didn’t know how they would receive me, you know. It’s like how I didn’t know at first if we,” I gesture between the two of us, “would get along.” I feel silly admitting it, but Luke nods understandingly.

“Luckily we do, right?” He says, smiling down at me. I smile back and look down, flustered without wanting to be.

Luke and I end up spending most of the evening in the library, pouring over his essay. He can’t seem to grasp the subject, and I feel for him. If he feels as lost in potions as I do in herbology, he must be feeling pretty bad.

“So the conclusion would be that…” He says, scratching his brow with the feather end of his quill.

“… that amortentia is a dangerous substance, even if it seems harmless.” He says, looking at me. His eyes seem to be asking for confirmation. I nod slowly, adding another sentence to it.

“Ah yes, makes sense. Thanks.” He writes it down quickly.

“No problem.” I say, rolling back my shoulders. Sitting in this cramped position is making my body ache a little, but I don’t want to disturb Luke’s concentration. He adds the last punctuation mark to his essay with a flourish and puts down the quill.

“That’s it, I’m done. I can’t believe I finished it. Thank you for helping me.” He says, turning to me. In the small space we’re both taking up next to each other, I notice the faint freckles on his cheeks. I’d never noticed them there before. The candles in the library are giving off a faint glow, just enough so that my eyes don’t strain.

“You’re welcome. Uh…” I say, neither of us moving. Clearing my throat, I check the time.

“Oh, it’s just gone 9 pm. We should probably head back.” I say, closing the small pot of ink he’d been using. Luke looks at the essay and starts rolling it up carefully. He puts it away in his bag, his hair falling forward, the curls tumbling around. He has such lovely hair. Ugh, stop it Lucy, this doesn’t help.

We make our way from the library to the Hufflepuff common room, talking about school. When we get to the hallway where the painting is, Luke stops walking.

“What do you say we go ask the house elves for extra dessert?” He asks, and I look at him with an undoubtedly confused expression. There’s a glint of excitement in his eyes.

“You mean walk into the kitchens and demand more food? Isn’t that… rude?” I say, fiddling with one of the rings on my finger. Luke laughs at my worried expression and tries to reassure me.

“They’re always up to make something if you ask. Come on, it’s one of the perks of being in this house! Don’t tell me you’ve never done it before?” He says, walking backwards towards the kitchens, his body turned towards me. I shrug.

“Of course I know people do it. I just never thought to try it out.” I say sheepishly.

“I promise we won’t get in trouble, and if I’m ever rude, you’re allowed to scold me. Now come on, cake awaits!” He says, gesturing me to follow him. Rolling my eyes, I give in to his arguments and make my way towards him.

***

“Miss Lucy! Do you want another slice?” A friendly house elf called Binky says. I shake my head, my mouth too full to reply properly. Luke is sat next to me, holding a mug of hot chocolate. His amused expression tells me that I must look silly. I swallow the bite of cake and say: “Really, I’ve had enough. Thank you so much.” Binky nods and walks off, followed by a small army of other house elves. Luke sets down his mug and smiles at me.

“Wasn’t this a great idea?” He prompts, making me quirk an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve eaten my weight in cake.”

“And?” He says.

“… and it was awesome. Happy now?” I concede, making Luke smile from ear to ear. I shake my head and stand up from the table, flicking off the crumbs that have accumulated on my robes. He stands up next to me, finishing his hot chocolate in one go. He has a bit of a moustache after that.

“You got a little something there, it’s highly amusing.” I point to my own upper lip, and he laughs and cleans it off with the back of his hand. We walk back to the door of the kitchens, waving bye to the house elves. Closing the door behind us, I turn to Luke.

“Thank you for that, that was fun. Even though I feel like I need to be rolled into the common room.” I joke, taking a deep breath. He smiles down at me.

“You’re welcome. I’m happy you came along. I’m happy we’re friends.” He says, and his eyes go slightly big after he says it, as if he didn’t mean to. I blink at him, taken completely by surprise.

“Yes. Yes, I’m happy we’re friends, too.” I say, smiling at him. He relaxes a bit and his dimples show again, and I forget that we’re supposed to be in the common room in 5 minutes. 

Chapter 5

The following week is one of the best of my days here at Hogwarts. Alix, Brigette and I take full marks on a transfiguration test, and I can now transfigure my owl into a rat. Should come in handy, I guess.

Alix is still giving me a hard time over Luke, so I try not to bring him up. I told them about our kitchen adventure and Alix said I’m fond of him if I allow him to insinuate me in breaking school rules.

“We weren’t breaking rules, it’s perfectly fine. If it wasn’t fine, the kitchens wouldn’t be open.” I reason, gesturing with my spoon. Alix rolls her eyes over her morning cup of tea.

“And now you’re defending him! Dear Cerce, he’s got you now.” I laugh, half annoyed and half embarrassed.

“And how are you doing with your partner?” I ask her, skilfully diverting the subject. I’ve gotten good at this.

“I’ll have you know, Nolwenn and I are doing great. In fact, next time we go to Hogsmeade, we’re going to shop for candy together. Her brother at home loves wizard candy, apparently.” I smile at her, happy it’s going well. She doesn’t even mention the assignment.

“Jake and I, on the other hand, are now discussing the benefits of Gillyweed versus a bubble charm.” Brigette says. Alix and I snort in unison, then high five each other.

“Jinx!”

“But the assignment is not even remotely about Gillyweed,” I say, “unless Luke and I are way off with our own research until now.” Brigette laughs and explains.

“We got bored talking about the assignment all the time, and we seem to have nothing in common except for herbology, so that’s how we got there.” I nod understandingly.

“Well, whatever works for you.” I say, and Brigette nods.

***

“Listen! Don’t you think the tune changed again?” Luke asks excitedly, bending closer to the plant. I don’t understand how he’s not scared of having his ear bitten off. I listen carefully and tell him he’s right, the tune has changed. It’s putting me at ease.

“That’s great! If it keeps going like that, it should be fully grown by the end of the month.” He says, noting it all down. I look from the plant to him. It’s been three weeks since we started, but somehow it feels like much longer than that. Luke looks up after he finishes writing.

“I think we’re good. Let’s water it and call it a day.” I take up my watering pot and carefully soak the soil. The plant, for once it seems, doesn’t take its chances on my extremities.

“Hey, do you think you could sneak away after dinner? I have something to show you.” He says. I eye him suspiciously, but his expression is open and friendly.

“This feels like a prank.” I say slowly, putting on my robes. He shakes his head as if to say ‘please, don’t be daft’, and says: “I promise you it’s not a prank. Trust me.”

Do I trust him? I suppose so, because I say ‘yes’ faster than I have time to think it through.

***

That night after dinner, after having endured Alix’s jokes and Brigette’s attempts at making Alix cool it, I find Luke once more. Ashton is sitting next to him, and he holds out his fist for what is to be the most awkward fist bump in human history. I laugh, embarrassed, but Ashton just beams. That boy is always beaming. I wonder what it’s like to be so happy all the time.

“Good evening! I hear all is well with your plant?” He says, giving me an easy in to the conversation.

“Yes! Although all the credit goes to Luke, I just kind of sit there most of the time.” I say, and this is not me trying to appear humble, it really is like that. Ashton laughs, Luke looking at me as if I should give myself more credit.

“Happy to hear it. Good thing you’ve got Lukey here, my partner on the other hand prefers to charm the plant into singing ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’, which I hear is a Muggle song, and I hate/love it.” I crack up laughing, hardly believing he could be speaking the truth.

“And on that note, Lucy and I have somewhere to be.” Luke says, shaking Ashton’s hand. Ashton waves at me and we leave the Great Hall.

“Where are we headed?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me. Luke doesn’t really give me an answer, tells me to wait, and leads me to the dungeons, to a practice class room.

I’m thoroughly confused, until he walks briskly up to a shelf full of vials, with a note attached to it. Luke and I never have potions together, since our group is too large to have the class in one go, but if I recall correctly, we were supposed to be making amortentia this week…

“Look!” He says, handing me the vial. The note says ‘Luke Hemmings, H, Amortentia, A’. I beam at him when I finish reading, holding the vial like the precious cargo it is.

“You got full marks! Luke, that’s amazing!” I say, opening my arms and hugging him without thinking about it. He hugs me back, even lifting my feet off the ground, his curls tickling my cheek in exactly the way I imagined they would. When he puts me down, I have a hard time taking a step back.

“It’s all because of you! After the essay I finally understood what I was supposed to do, so brewing the potion was a piece of cake!” He says excitedly, eyes glittering. I’m still holding the vial, looking at the iridescent liquid.

“Oh please, you were still the one who had to brew it. I’m proud of you, you know.” I say, never feeling like I was more truthful than I was in this moment. I hand it back to him, and he puts it back in its holder. I wonder what it smells like. But no, I don’t want to know. Not really.

“Thank you. Now, to say thank you, I’ve asked the house elves to make you your favourite dessert.” He says, an almost smug smile appearing on his lips. A smile I once mistook for arrogance. A smile I now wish to see as much as possible.

“You know my favourite dessert?” I ask, laughing. I can’t help but be endeared.

“Yes! You told me that night we snuck into the kitchen! Red velvet cupcakes are waiting on you.” He says, grabbing my wrist and pulling me towards the door.

It was a good week indeed. 

Chapter 6

The next weekend does not go as well. And that’s an understatement.

Hufflepuff are playing Quidditch against Slytherin today, and it started out well enough a couple of days before. Luke asked me whether or not I’m going to the match, saying: “Michael says he found a spell that makes a bunch of confetti shoot out from your wand. He’ll use it if Slytherin win. Well, he technically said ‘when’, but I’m not about to betray my house.” And I happily said I was going, even if it was just to see if Michael could pull it off.

So on the day of the match, my friends and I put on the most hideously Hufflepuff outfits we can find, for once putting effort into supporting our house.

The stand is loud and excited, and the teams are circling the Quidditch pitch when we arrive. I don’t see Luke right away, but I try to pay it no mind.

“Who do you think will win?” Brigette asks thoughtfully. Her long hair is wrapped in a bun, a bright yellow ribbon laced through it. She really is a genius with hair.

“Dunno. I’m just here for the drama.” Alix says, her eyes big and full of energy. I laugh at her, shaking my head.

“Since when are you such a Quidditch fan?” I ask her, keeping an eye out for Luke, even without wanting to.

“I’m not. I just like the atmosphere.” She says, shrugging. She turns back to the pitch and starts clapping her hands.

When the game is almost beginning, I see Luke emerge from the stairs of the stand. He’s wearing his house scarf and has yellow stripes on his face. Why on Earth does he still look good?

I’m about to wave at him when I notice he’s not alone. He’s talking to someone who emerges right after him, and my heart skips a beat. The girl he’s talking to is someone I’ve not really seen before, but one look at her is enough to know she’s gorgeous. Her blonde hair curls around her face, her smile enough to brighten a dreary day. I try not to let that fact get to me, and I try not to be an insolent child about it. But I do anyway. Alix, ever observant, follows my distracted gaze to where Luke is talking animatedly to the girl.

“Who’s she?” She asks, and I shrug. I rip my eyes away from them and try to focus on Madam Hooch, who has just blown her whistle and let the golden snitch escape.

“Dunno. But by the looks of it, they’re very close.” I say, basing that statement on the fact that they’re standing close enough together they’re practically sharing body heat.

I spend most of the match actively trying not to look at Luke, so of course that means I spend most of the match watching Luke. Since when have I become a jealous person? If Luke wants to spend time with an attractive girl who clearly likes him, he’s free to do so. But still, part of me wishes I’d never seen it.

Hufflepuff do end up losing, and the atmosphere in the stand diminishes progressively. The weather takes a turn halfway through the match, dark clouds taking over the sky. A couple of people are holding up their wands with an umbrella charm to combat the soft drizzle that’s falling down.

I almost forget about Michael.

When the Slytherin Seeker catches the snitch, a loud roar erupts from the Slytherin side of the stadium, the students ecstatic. Then, from somewhere in the crowd, a gigantic explosion of green and silver shoots out, clouding everyone in a 10 meter radius in a blanket of confetti. Laughter sounds through the stadium and the Slytherin students disperse quickly, not wanting to give away the culprit. It does wrench a laugh out of me, and the defeat of my house doesn’t feel nearly as heavy when you’re laughing.

I turn away before I get the chance to glance at Luke again.

During lunch, people are giving a standing ovation to the Slytherin team as they enter the Great Hall, Michael walking behind them, receiving applause of his own. Either the professors don’t notice or they don’t really care, but Michael gets away with it.

I’m not hungry, and I plan to spend the rest of my day wallowing in self-pity, until Alix says: “Hey, chin up. She might be a friend of his. He’s allowed to have friends, you know.” I close my eyes for a second, but I can’t seem to control my mouth.

“Of course he’s allowed to have friends. He’s allowed to have a girlfriend, too. He can have a girl on every finger! I couldn’t care less, what does it matter what I think anyway?!” I almost yell, feeling my voice rise in volume. I stutter out the last sentence and stand up, snatching up my sandwich to eat as I storm off. I don’t even look back to see if anyone noticed. I don’t care.

My feet take me to the greenhouse. I wipe away a stray tear from my face, a tear of anger, I tell myself. The sweater I’m wearing is stifling in this environment, so I take it off and throw it on a table. The plant Luke and I- The plant is sitting in its usual spot, and I go up to it with a fresh pair of gloves.

My heart sinks as I look at it. A flower has fallen off, leaving it with a large gap on the side. Its song is sombre, melancholic. I don’t dare touch it now, but I try to water it. It nips weakly at my hand. What’s wrong? I look at a small chart we have hanging off of the table – Luke’s idea – and it doesn’t look like the plant has been watered too much. I frown. Then what’s wrong with it? I let the chart fall out of my hand, the wood board clattering against the table. The sound startles me, and I shake my head to regain my senses.

As I spend time there, I have time to think. There’s no use denying it now; why would I be jealous of someone Luke hangs out with? Because somewhere, a part of me must like him, I guess. I suppose it was obvious. I want to yell, but instead it comes out as a sob. Why do I make things needlessly difficult? Do the assignment. Make it work. Don’t fall for him. Simple as Expelliarmus. Yet my dumb heart doesn’t listen to my dumb brain and now I’m sitting at the end of the greenhouse, in front of a plant that’s dying.

I sit there for a while. I take a small tour through the greenhouses to check what else is there, and find some amazing things. I also find some not-so-amazing things. Herbology truly is an interesting branch of magic, but one that will literally bite you in the butt. It’s after finding a not-so-amazing flesh eating fruit tree that I run into the last person I want to see right now.

“Lucy? I was looking for you. Are you okay? Your friends said you were upset.” Luke says, his expression filled with worry. I belatedly realise my eyes must be a little red and do a vain attempt at wiping my face. It’s no use.

“Checking up on the plant. It’s dying.” I say, matter-of-factly. I ignore the rest of what he says. Why would he check up on me or ask my friends?

“It’s what? Let me see.” He says, walking over to our plant. He kneels down in front of it, not caring about the potential bites. It doesn’t even try to make a go at him.

“It was like that when I got here.” I say, pointing at the flower that’s fallen off. He takes it gingerly in his hand and looks it over. The colour is fading from it. Its song seems to have picked up slightly, though.

“It looks like it’s sick somehow. Like…” He says, frowning deeply. He seems to be running something over in his head. He looks up at me and stands.

“When did we last check it?” He asks me, and I think back.

“Two days ago, like always.” I check the chart to make sure.

“And…”, he hesitates, “how did you feel two days ago?” He asks, and I can’t seem to follow why that would be a logical follow-up question. I shrug, trying to pass for being nonchalant.

“I was fine. I’m fine-“ He gives me a look, showing me he doesn’t believe that for a second. I shake my head.

“Okay yeah, regardless of how I feel…” I start to say, but the phrase dies on my lips. He’s looking intently at me, figuring out the puzzle at the same time as I am. Until something clicks in the way he’s looking at me and the flower.

“Merlin’s beard…” He whispers. My eyebrows knit together, and he realises I’m not catching on.

“It reads your mood. That’s why it’s sick right now. It has bonded to us, and if it senses something’s off, it withers.” He says, and I detect a sense of hurt in his voice. I stare at the plant, shocked that it actually bonded to us. Even though we’d read about it, I still doubted that was a real thing.

“Well then, sorry for ruining the assignment. It was bound to happen anyway.” I say, not caring about the venom in my voice. I’m still upset with him, and now it’s threatening to come out. He’s taken aback by my small outburst, and actually takes a step back as well.

“What’s gotten into you? I haven’t seen you all day and when I finally find you, you’re more than upset about something. You can tell me, you know.” I look at him, probably not cutting an impressive figure in my shirt and with a splotchy face, but I try regardless. The fact that he’s clueless somehow hurts more. I wish him to understand without me having to explain, but I know that’s impossible. Instead, I lash out.

“Don’t worry about it, Luke. You don’t have to care.” I say, and I see it cuts. He blinks, looks down, looks back up again and his eyes are betraying his hurt. My heart aches a little.

“Well then, have it your way. Come find me when you want to talk.” He bites, and he stalks off, leaving me feeling like the biggest fool at Hogwarts. I sink down to the ground and try not to cry, the plant above me singing its mournful tune.

Chapter 7

I apologise to my friends first.

Alix sees me and huffs, but I waste no time. We’re in our dormitory, I’ve just gotten back from the greenhouse and my disastrous encounter with Luke, and I’m ready to sleep and cry. But not until I at least try to get one thing right. I walk up to Alix and Brigette’s beds, both of them eyeing me.

“Hey, I don’t know if you want to talk right now, but I want to say that I’m so sorry. I’ve treated you unfairly, it wasn’t okay of me to react that way. I was upset but it didn’t give me the right. I hope you can forgive me.” I say, looking each of them in the eye. I know I was harshest to Alix, so I say: “You were right. I was just jealous and chose to work that out on you, I’m sorry.” I look down, waiting for them to say something. It’s silent for a moment and I’m scared they’re not ready to talk, but then Alix clears her throat.

“Apology accepted.” I sigh in relief, but I’m waiting for what she’s going to say next.

“But don’t do that again. We’re your friends, Lu, we just watch out for you. We know you like him, even if you don’t want to admit that. But at least it’s good you realise you were in the wrong.” She opens her arms and I plop down in them, hugging her like there’s no tomorrow. Brigette joins us and together we sit there for a minute, hugging it out. When I let go, Brigette says something which makes my night both better and worse.

“You know, he came to us because he was looking for you.” Her voice is soft, as if she’s unsure of whether she should be saying this. I nod for her to go on.

“He saw you walk away and stuff. I think he was worried.” I sigh, looking down at my hands.

“He found me, alright. I sort of… yelled at him.” I say, squeezing my eyes shut. “Merlin, I messed up.”

“Today really wasn’t your day, was it?” Alix remarks, and I laugh darkly at the comment.

“Sure wasn’t. But maybe it’s for the best. If Luke and I just finish the assignment and be done with it, we can go back to how it was before. Then my feelings won’t get in his way.” I say, standing up from Alix’s bed. Alix and Brigette share a look.

“What is it?” I ask, careful to keep my tone neutral. I’ve already upset people enough today.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Brigette asks carefully. I look between the two of them.

“What other option is there? There’s no way he’ll want to be my friend after this, let alone…” I don’t finish the sentence. “Besides, he’s clearly already taken.”

“You don’t know that. Talk to him, that’s the only way you’ll be sure. You can’t live life running away from problems.” Alix says, a yawn escaping her mouth as she says it. Even half asleep she could still crank out an inspirational quote.

“Fine. Maybe you’re right. But I still don’t know if he’ll want to hear it.” I say, putting on my pyjamas.

“You’ll have to find out.” Alix says, and before I fall asleep that night, I think her words over.

I need to find Luke tomorrow.

***

Sunday is supposed to be a relaxing day, but the weather outside is so bad that the castle seems to be shrouded in darkness. Alix, Brigette and I drag ourselves to breakfast, most people looking sleepy and subdued. The mood between the three of us is better, and I’m thankful to have friends like them.

I see Luke. He’s sitting with the girl again, joined by Calum and Ashton. Without trying to be too obvious, I try to take a better look at her. She’s wearing formal clothes, which is weird, and she seems to be close to Calum as well as Luke and Ashton.

“When are you talking to him?” Alix asks me, once I get done staring. I look at her and take a piece of toast.

“I don’t know. What do I even say? Hey, yeah, sorry about that. I got super jealous of a girl I don’t even know and was upset that you’re not madly in love with me, my bad.” I say, taking a huge bite out of the toast. I’m pretty sure there’s marmalade all over my cheeks. I take a napkin and wipe my face as Brigette says: “Yeah, maybe not that. But you can at least start by apologising about yelling, that’s good.” I shrug, continuing to eat.

During breakfast I keep stealing glances at them sitting there, the girl still with them. At one point she looks over at me, and I pretend to be looking at some floating candles.

“Maybe you should just get it over with. You have to see him for the assignment anyway.” Alix reasons, taking a sip from her cup of tea.

“True. Today is watering day. Ugh, I have no choice, do I?” I say, feeling dramatic. Just as I look up from my now empty plate, Calum and Ashton walk by with the girl in tow. I hear a snippet of their conversation as they pass.

“… changed much, hasn’t it?” Calum says.

“No, it’s still the same.” She says, her voice soft. The heels she wears make small clack sounds on the tiles of the Great Hall. I watch them exit the Hall together, Calum and the girl sharing a laugh.

Alix clears her throat and I spin my head around, only to be faced with Luke walking by us, him looking away when I look at him. I freeze until he’s passed us, then look at my friends.

“Do I go after him?” I follow him with my eyes and he makes a right turn out of the Hall.

“Just go. You can do it.” Alix says, making arm movements to shush me away. I stand up from the bench, take a deep breath, and follow him out.

When I get to the doors of the Great Hall, though, all courage fades away. Luke is standing with Calum, Ashton and the girl, and they seem to be hugging each other goodbye. I stand back a bit, like the stalker I apparently am, and pick up just enough to make me want to sink through the ground.

“Get home safe, sis. And when you visit Mum and Dad, tell Duke I love him.” The girl, Calum’s sister, laughs and shakes her head.

“I’ll tell them you love them, too.” And then she turns to Luke, hugging him as well.

“It was good to see you, and you too, Ash.”

“Get home safe, Mali.” I hear Ashton say.

After they’re done, she turns around and leaves the castle, leaving the boys to talk among themselves. I walk away from them as quickly as I can, squeezing my eyes shut for a second to combat my feeling of shame. That was Calum’s sister. I see it now, their family resemblance. How dumb can I be?

My feet, once again, take me to the greenhouse. Luke’ll know if I’ve watered the plant, so I intend to do just that and mark it down on the chart. My hands are squeezed into fists at my sides, and my step is brisk. I feel like a complete and utter fool. Of course it didn’t make sense to him that I was upset, because there’s nothing to be upset about. And I have to admit, even though it’s painful, that if the girl had been someone special, it still wouldn’t have been my business. Especially not my business to get upset about.

I water the plant gingerly, gloves safely on. Its song is still quite sad, and I whisper: “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to. I got carried away. Don’t die, please.” And it nips at my finger, but not in a painful way. Huh. That’s a first.

I mark down that it’s been watered and I make a quick note that the flowers have become a slightly darker orange, attaching it to the chart for Luke to see. I feel like a coward for avoiding him, but how can I face him now?

Chapter 8

Only two days left of the assignment. The amount of data we have is insane, and I know we have to look into it soon or else we’ll run out of time to finish it. I haven’t spoken to Luke. He’s seen my notes, because they’ve been gone every time I checked the plant. Any classes we have together, we sit on different sides of the room. I can’t believe I’ve let it come to this. All over a misunderstanding that was completely my fault.

Whenever I see him, he looks like his usual self, except I’ve become more attuned to how he acts so I can tell his shoulders are more slumped than usual. His friends sometimes look over at me and my group of friends, while Luke seems to be trying his best to avoid looking as much as possible. I don’t blame him.

“Lucy, you’re my friend and I love you, you know that. But if you don’t talk to him, I’ll smack you with a broom.” Alix says after charms class, when we’re making our way to herbology, the last class of the day. I know she’s right, of course. Maybe a good broom smacking is what I need to push me into doing something.

“You’re clearly miserable. Not to mention the fact that he still doesn’t know what’s going on.” She goes on.

“I know, I know! Just… what do I tell him?” I say, spreading out my arms.

“The truth.” Brigette chimes in. I look at her, and she’s not joking.

“The truth is the only thing that’ll explain everything.” Alix adds, nodding in agreement. I sigh, annoyed at the wisdom of my friends.

***

“I hope you’re all doing well! Your reports are due in two days, ladies and gentlemen! From the looks of it, I’ve seen some plants that are growing nicely.” Professor Sprout says at the end of the class, when we’re putting away our equipment. I’ve managed to actually repot something successfully, and I put my handiwork away, filled with pride. It’s the little victories in life.

The pang in my chest when I hear Luke’s voice as he talks to Ashton is enough to knock me down a bit again.

Students are filing out once they’re done, my friends leaving in unison. Alix gives me a pointed look over my shoulder. When Luke is about to pass me by, I turn around and put out my arm. It takes every bit of determination not to run away from this moment.

“Hey, sorry, can we… talk?” I say, my voice soft. I almost don’t look at his face, because I don’t want to know how he looks at me, but I force myself to do it. His eyes are set in a neutral expression, again not betraying what’s going on behind them. Like he’s distant again. My heart thumps loudly in my chest.

“The assignment is due in two days, and-“ He scoffs, and I look at him again.

“What?” I ask.

“Just, that’s what you’re saying? You want to talk about school? That’s fine. Let’s finish the assignment then.” He says, turning on his heel towards the back of the room. I follow him, having a hard time matching his long strides.

My friends must have shuffled out of the room without me noticing, because all of a sudden, we’re alone.

“So, it’s still not doing that great, but at least it’s not dying.” He says, looking intently at the chart. My big handwriting is a contrast to the small check marks he always makes.

“I’ve been working on the report, but it’s a lot. Your notes told me most of what I needed to know, though.” He continues, and I stare at his face. He’s been working on it without me?

“Luke, that’s not… I’m sorry, I just… I messed up, okay?” I stutter, not knowing where to begin. Knowing the truth doesn’t necessarily make it easy to say it.

He looks at me, and I see that his eyes are searching for something in my face. He hangs the chart back, turning his body towards me. I have his full attention. It’s the best and the worst.

“I don’t understand you, Lucy. I thought we were friends. Then you got angry at me for something, I don’t know what, and you don’t talk to me for days. What have I done that made me deserve that?” He asks, and I see the hurt flash in his eyes. He’s clearly been going through it the past few days, and my heart aches for him.

“I know. I… it’s hard to explain.” I say sheepishly. I know that’s not an out. Instead, Luke grabs two stools and sets them down in front of me, occupying one himself.

“Please, try.” I sit down on the stool, taking a breath. The words that leave my mouth are not eloquent, but they work.

“Okay, so… I didn’t expect us to become friends, right? But then we did. And I like spending time with you, and getting to know you. And realising that was confusing, because somehow I’d convinced myself that we’d never have anything in common.” I say, and he’s listening closely, his chin resting on his hand. I continue.

“And anyway, as time passed I liked spending time with you more and more. And then,” I say, bracing myself for the part I’m dreading the most, “and then, remember the Quidditch match against Slytherin?” He nods, showing me he’s following, even though he looks confused as to why I’d bring it up.

“And well, I saw you with that girl, and…” I don’t finish the sentence, hoping he catches on. He doesn’t let me get out of it easy, though.

“Go on.” He says, still listening.

“Oh Merlin, okay, so I sort of assumed you liked her, and… and it made me upset. That’s why I lashed out at you. I’m so sorry about that, it wasn’t my place, I realise that. I acted like a jealous twat. And then the plant started dying and it all went to shit, and then I didn’t know how to tell you this.” I conclude, looking at my hands. The plant’s soft tune fills the room.

“Lucy…” I hear, and I look up as he says my name. His expression has changed. His eyes are no longer sad, they’re almost… relieved? He pulls a hand through his curls.

“First of all: that girl is Calum’s sister. She’s practically a sister to me, too.” He says, and I nod. I already know this now, but it’s still good to hear it from him.

“So you were upset because you thought I liked someone else?” He asks. I nod slowly.

“You do realise I’ve been sat wondering about what it could be for days, right? I thought you’d never speak to me again.” I look up, my eyes big. It’s the way he says it, as if he really means it, that strikes me. I know Luke likes being friends, he has literally told me that, but somehow it never processed as much as right now.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me some day.” I say. The tentative smile on his lips is like a blessing.

“I forgive you. Now that I know what it is, I can place it. Even though I can’t believe you thought I liked Mali.” He says, and he shakes his head a bit, as if the idea is so ludicrous.

“Well, you could have. I didn’t know her. And she is really pretty.” I say, enjoying the fact that the mood is slightly lighter. He continues to shake his head.

“Fair enough, but just, no.” He stands up from the stool, walking around a bit. I follow him with my gaze, taking in the sight of this golden boy. I’m so relieved we’re talking again.

“I was surprised, though. When you yelled at me, I felt that in my bones.” He says, and I put my head in my hands.

“Sorry. I behaved like a fool, okay?”

I think of the fact that it’s out there that I like him. He knows now. I mean, there’s no other way he could have interpreted my explanation. I stand up from the stool as well, stretching my slightly shaking limbs. He turns towards me, and suddenly I’m swept up, getting a hug so all-consuming that my feet don’t touch the ground for several seconds. I hug back as best I can, once again feeling those curls tickle my cheek. I hadn’t noticed before that Luke smells like vanilla.

“You are a fool, yes. But I’m one, too. It was too suspicious that Mali was here and suddenly you were different. I just didn’t think…” Now it’s my turn to prompt him to speak up.

“Think what?” I ask, looking up at his face. He looks away for a second, gathering his thoughts.

“Think that you liked me. You know, that way.” The emphasis on the ‘that’ says it all. I suck in my breath almost without wanting to. The air in the room becomes too hot and the plant’s melody rings in my ears. I’m acutely aware of my sweaty upper lip and the fact that my hair’s in a messy bun.

“You mean…” I say, unsure.

“Well, uh, yes.” He says, not as confident as I would have expected him to be.

“Huh.” I say, the sound feeling like it’s being knocked out of me. He laughs, a beaming smile on his face.

He looks away for a second and his eyebrows shoot up, and I follow his eyes to our little plant that’s not so little anymore. The flowers are in full bloom, a vibrant shade of red. Its song is a relief to hear, not only because this is proof that it’s not sick anymore, but also because it physically relieves pain now.

We squat down in front of it, mesmerised by it. I forget about its teeth, but when it inevitably lashes out, it merely nibbles on my nose. I laugh, sitting back and touching my face. Luke pulls out some parchment and makes notes, occupied completely by the magical thing in front of us.

I look at him from the corner of my eye, noting the open and happy expression on his face. The face of the boy I’m in love with.

Chapter 9

Luke and I finish the report right on time. We stay up in the library until past midnight, making adjustments and adding or deleting things. I even made a photo of the plant and put it on there. We fall asleep in the library until I snap awake and shake Luke’s shoulder, a piece of parchment stuck to his cheek. The laugh it pulls out of me echoes through the empty library.

We don’t talk about anything but the report. The elephant in the room is taking on massive proportions.

“Great work, Ms graves, Mr Hemmings! Your report is remarkably complete, and your plant is thriving. Madam Pomfrey will be pleased to hear she can add yours to her personal collection.” Professor Sprout says, handing us back our report, marked with a big A. I beam at Luke, his face a perfect picture of happiness.

“I can’t believe we made it.” I say as we walk back from her office after our personal feedback moment. The skip in my step is undeniable. Luke is holding the report like it’s a trophy.

“You did really well, even for someone who claims they haven’t got green fingers.” He says, nudging my shoulder with his. I smile, thanking him.

“Even though it still would have gone terribly wrong if you hadn’t been there to keep us on track.” I say, making him blush just a little.

It’s weird to be done, now. The assignment was the red thread in our lives this past month. Where do we go without it? Luke and I haven’t talked about that day in the greenhouse, and I haven’t brought it up. Our momentary excitement over the wellbeing of our plant had clouded anything else, and after that there hasn’t been a moment to talk. Not the kind of talk we need to have, anyway.

Part of me is scared that we’ll go back to how it was before. I really don’t want to go back to how it was before.

Telling him the truth was the best course of action and I’m happy I did it. But how do we go on? There’s nowhere to go now.

Neither of us walk anywhere in particular, instead chatting about the report and how proud professor Sprout seemed to be. I can’t handle the way Luke laughs when I crack a joke or when he pulls his fingers through his curls. Every time he does it, the flutters in my chest flare up so hard I think I might explode.

Without realising it, Luke and I walk to the greenhouse. It’s almost like a second home to me now, given how much time I’ve been spending there. I never thought I’d get fuzzy feelings thinking about that place. But here we are. We stop at the entrance, Luke’s arm against my shoulder. He really is ridiculously tall. He puts the report away in his bag and turns towards me.

“Lucy, I need to show you something.” He says, and he looks at me. His eyes are soft, just like the smile on his lips. He tucks some curls behind his left ear and takes a deep breath. What is happening?

“Okay… what-“ I start to say, but he just takes hold of my wrist and walks me to the farthest greenhouse, where they keep those flesh eating fruit trees I ran into that one time. Why is he bringing me here?

“So I’ve been thinking a lot these past few days, and with the assignment and all it’s been pretty hectic. So now that we’re free, I felt it was time.” He says, looking ahead. He’s rambling a little, almost like he’s nervous. We stop at the door, and he makes me face him so I can’t look inside.

“What are you doing?” I ask, laughing a little. My amused expression seems to comfort him.

“You’ll find out. Now close your eyes.” He says, and I oblige. I hear him walk away slowly and I feel a little lost as I’m trying to make out the sounds. The greenhouse smells like nature, but with a touch of cinnamon. Wizard plants really are the weirdest things. Luke comes back, and I feel a small pot being put into my hands.

“Open them.” I look at him, and then down at my hands, and I’m met with the cutest little roses I’ve ever seen. They’re in a pot, almost like a miniature rose bush, and their scent is so sweet and fresh it ought to be a perfume. They’re light pink, and they shimmer somehow, like the sun is reflecting their radiance.

“Luke… they’re beautiful. And they’re for me?” I ask, just to make sure. He laughs, nodding.

“They are. I’ve been growing them for a while and figuring out how to care for them, and this past month, the research for our assignment helped me grow them out. And you know what the best part is? If they need to be watered, they chirp, so you can never miss it.” He says, and I want to roll my eyes, but I’m so deeply endeared that I can’t do it.

“But why? This seems like a lot of effort.” For me, I want to add. I set the pot down on a table, scared I might break it somehow. The quiet elegance of the little roses is mesmerising. I look back to Luke, who is scratching the back of his neck.

“I wanted to give you something so you’d… if you look at them, you would think of me.” He says, more candid than I could have hoped. I blink a few times, trying to figure out if this is the conversation we are in desperate need of having.

“I think you succeeded in that.” I say, looking back at him. I fiddle a little with the hem of my skirt. Now or never.

“Good. Merlin, I’m bad at this.” He mumbles, looking down at his shoes. When he looks up again, his eyes are suddenly a lot sadder.

“I don’t want this to end, Lucy. I want to keep seeing you, and spend time with you. I don’t know what else to say. We haven’t talked about it yet because I’m the worst at talking about feelings, but I just… this can’t be the end of it.” He’s gesturing with his hands, the feeling behind his words making his movements bigger. I take a step closer and take his hands in my own, grounding him. He looks at our hands and then at me, eyes big.

“Me neither. Thinking of spending days without you kills my soul a little.” I say, a laugh being forced out of me as I say it. Luke smiles wide, a slight blush covering his cheeks. He takes a step closer.

“That day, when we made up. I meant it. I like you, like, a lot. I’m crazy about you.” He says, and the unmistakeable honesty is clear in his voice. His dimples make his expression that much more adorable, and I lose myself a moment in looking at his face. I feel like I’m allowed to, now.

“That’s really good, because I like you like crazy, too.” I say, not breaking eye contact as I say it. He’s searching my eyes again, and we stand there for what feels like minutes, just assessing what’s going on. Until I can’t take it anymore.

“Okay, if I don’t kiss you now I’m going to lose my absolute mind.” I haven’t fully finished my sentence yet when Luke bends down, taking my face in his hands, and I have just enough time to put a hand in his curls until our lips meet, and I’m kissing Luke, and everything feels right.

My hands lose themselves in his hair and he’s holding me like I might disappear if he doesn’t. Every small moment, every doubt, every pang, every little bit of confusion and anxiety fades away as finally, we know exactly what the other feels. Our kiss doesn’t last long, but the intensity of it is enough to make it feel like it lasts for hours. When we break apart, he touches his forehead to mine, sighing.

“You have no idea how badly I needed that.” He confesses, his hands resting comfortably on my waist. I chuckle, my hands on his broad chest.

“I can imagine it, though.” I say. We stay there for a bit, not wanting the moment to end, content in just existing.

We end up leaving the greenhouse just in time for dinner, and I actually bring the rose plant with me to the Great Hall. Luke finds his friends and gives me a kiss on the forehead in front of everyone, which makes my cheeks feel so warm I must look like a proper tomato.

I sit down with my friends, proudly setting the rose plant on the table. The look they give me is both of pride and of utter smugness.

“Looks like you’ve got some news.” Alix prompts, looking between us. I just smile, my heart feels so full. I never believed I could feel this way about someone.

“Yeah, we got an A on our report.” I say, making even Brigette groan. Alix actually slaps my arm.

“Oh”, I add, “and Luke and I are kind of together now.” I say, making both of them squeal a little, until they compose themselves enough to start asking all sorts of questions. I love them so much; without them I’d have never confronted anything I was feeling.

I talk to them about everything that happened, we somehow stuff food into our mouths before dinner disappears, and afterwards, Luke walks by us, making small talk with my friends.

We leave the Great Hall together, Luke taking my hand as we walk, and that night the two of us sit in the kitchen together surrounded by every kind of dessert you can imagine.

The report now hangs above my bed, right over the rose plant.

THE END

[whythinktoomuch]

Reincarnation AU

a.k.a. the one where Kara seeks out the company of her loved ones again and again and again.

Kara’s bones ache constantly, which is only worth noting because they had never done so before. By all accounts, they shouldn’t be aching. Not like this, not while the yellow sun continues to exist in this world. Winn’s seventh iteration suggested that the pain was just all in her head, and he’s probably right. But this knowledge isn’t necessarily new to Kara, nor does it do anything to ease the hollowness gnawing through and throughout all 206 of her ageless, weary bones. 

Her bones ache. 

It’s a visceral fact, and Kara has long since accepted it and moved on.

At first, Kara stays away from everyone. She vows to just watch as their lives unfold how they’re meant to, from a distance that’s both appropriate and respectful.

Alex usually matures with only the conventional amount of teenage angst in her life. It inevitably culminates in a rocky college career and a rather difficult adult life, but she gradually finds enough of herself in her late-20s to survive. She is as good at being an only child as she is an older sister. Sometimes, even better. 

When Kara finally gives in and tries to insert herself into Alex’s life, it isn’t easy. Not at first anyway. Alex is reserved, occasionally standoffish, and doesn’t take to Kara’s go-to bubbly persona. But Kara is nothing if not relentless and desperate and, not to mention, emboldened by the possibility that Alex just might need her as much as she needs Alex. Eight times out of ten, they end up becoming best friends for the rest of Alex’s life.

Kara eventually starts approaching Alex as herself: the lonely Kryptonian who’s repeatedly outlived all her loved ones just one –– two, three, four, and counting –– too many times. And something about Kara’s grief resonates with Alex’s own heavy heart, and their sisterly bond forms all the more quickly for it. It consistently saves Kara a good three to five years in relationship groundwork, which gives her an extra three to five years with her beloved sister. 

It seems like cheating, but if Kara is to indulge in anything anymore, it’ll be in more time with the one person who’s always made Earth feel like home.

She usually tells Winn the truth. His natural curiosity and love for sci-fi make it easier for him to understand and even embrace what she tells him. Alex tends to push back –– What the everloving fuck do you mean by “reincarnation,” Kara? –– and Kara has managed to convince her only on the rarest of occasion. But Winn believes her almost every single time. He even brings up various theories involving quantum mechanics, though his excitement wanes whenever Kara explains that yes, she does in fact know that consciousness is just another collection of versatile energy and whatnot, because she had listened to the first five of his predecessors say the same exact thing. 

Kara always, always, always appreciates every little interaction she can contrive with her loved ones, no matter how far removed these new relationships seem from the original. They’re close enough. Sometimes, she has a beer with Alex at a seedy bar and they share a laugh and she’s Kara Danvers again. Other times, she nails a horrendously cheesy pun and Winn rolls his eyes and Kara feels 26 for the first time in nearly a century.

She has spent many a human lifetime getting to know Alex and Winn and Eliza and James and Lucy and Cat and all the rest, until there can’t possibly be anything left for her to learn. And still, she does. She finds them again, loves them even harder, and gratefully relearns everything she’s never had the chance to forget. 

In fact, out of everyone she had loved during her very first venture as Kara Zor-El Danvers, there is exactly one person she’s been trying to avoid all this time. Her resolve in the matter only continues to redouble with each subsequent iteration, and she fully intends on keeping to the pattern. Indefinitely.

That is, until one fateful day, around Kara’s 750th year on Earth, when that adamant decision of hers is dutifully plucked right out of her unsuspecting hands. 

Kara is listening intently to Dr. Alexandra Danvers’s steady pulse as she performs open-heart cyber-surgery for the first time almost two neighborhoods over. That’s what Kara will later attribute this highly inevitable misadventure to: her super-hearing being preoccupied with her adoptive sister at least twelve times removed, dozens of miles away, surrounded by the unfamiliar buzzing and hums of medical technology that they hadn’t gotten around to patenting just yet.

“Hi, is this seat taken?” 

Kara blinks and drags her gaze heavenward, and absolutely everything hurts. Not just her bones or her fluttering heart or her eyes now spiking with the most unwelcome heat. But everything. 

“I don’t mean to intrude. It’s just that... everywhere else is taken and I’d rather enjoy my coffee and pastry out here in the sun.” 

Well aware of how her shaky voice would betray her, Kara just nods and gestures at the empty chair across the table. 

“Thank you! I really appreciate it,” says the woman, taking the seat with a dazzling smile. 

For one precious moment, Kara thinks that nothing else will happen. That they will just finish their respective coffees in silence, maybe share one polite smile when it’s time to leave, then Kara can live out the rest of this lifetime avoiding the woman now sitting before her for as long she lives. 

But life, if nothing else, is cruel and wretched and oh so very lovely.

“My name’s Lena, by the way,” the woman needlessly introduces herself as she tears her almond croissant into tiny bite-sized pieces. 

“Kara.” 

Lena smiles so wide that her eyes crinkle a little. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kara.” 

[georgiecarrfilmreview]

Detective Pikachu

This review originally appeared on Ghoul Magazine:

https://www.ghoulmagazine.com/home/2019/5/15/detective-pikachu 

The central premise of Detective Pikachu is simple and disquieting. Pikachu - the sweet, yellow, fluffy Pokémon who can shoot electricity from his body - has become a cop. The film, a magic-infused child-friendly film noir, follows Tim (Justice Smith), as he searches for his father - a detective in the Ryme City Police Department -  who has mysteriously disappeared. His investigations are assisted by his father’s erstwhile partner, Pikachu (voiced by Ryan Reynolds), Lucy, an unpaid journalism intern with aspirations to investigative reporting (Katherine Newton) and a rich and powerful philanthropist, news baron and inventor, Howard Clifford (Bill Nighy). Most humans have Pokémon companions but Tim does not - he lives with his grandmother and works in insurance. He thus acts as the ideal interloper through which we can vicariously explore the wonders of the Pokémon universe (a bit like a Pokémon video game).

Detective Pikachu takes place in a society of actually existing Pokémon. Pigeottos soar through the skies, Bulbasaurs stomp through the marshes and Snorlax naps on a zebra crossing. In the shiny new development of Ryme City, built to ‘celebrate the harmony between humans and Pokémon’, Pokémons cohabit and co-work with their human counterparts; Lickitungs commute and Squirtles fight fires. Big shiny adverts tell us how wonderful life is in Ryme City. At night, the neon streets and dive bars may look a little like Blade Runner Los Angeles, but the threatening smoke and shadows so common in film noir hide only Jigglypuffs and Aipoms.  In daylight, Ryme City has a brighter, more utopian aspect, its shiny business centre lent an added magic by the joyful presence of Pokémon everywhere. Certainly some real-world recognisable flaws persist - Lucy is an unpaid intern forced to ‘write Pokémon listicles all day’ and Clifford, Murdoch-like, has accrued a worrying amount of power. We are also aware that, beneath this glitz, something is wrong; a crime has been committed. But this is, after all, cannot be a perfect city. What role would the police serve if there were no crimes to solve?

References to the crime/noir genre are central to Detective Pikachu. It deals knowingly with cop movie cliches, often inverting these, or Pokémonifying these, for comic effect. Angels With Filthy Souls plays in Tim’s father’s flat. Pikachu is reprimanded when he refers to Lucy as a ‘dame’. In place of the usual moon-eyed stranger who approaches the detective with suspicious information (à la Evelyn Mulwray in Chinatown or Agent Annabella Smith in The 39 Steps ), Tim is followed by a neurotic Psyduck, a platypus-like yellow Pokémon. This anxious, yelling Psyduck with explosively powerful migraines also fills in the traditional/annoying role of the Screaming Woman, a stock character in the action/adventure genre, who must be coaxed out of hysteria by the leading man whenever things get tense (exemplified by Willie Scott in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom). Liberally scattered throughout the film, these jokes are successful for two reasons. Firstly, the youth of the central cast reassures us that these we can laugh at the cliches of the genre and can reject the unsavoury aspects of police movies inherent to the form. Secondly, many of these lines are spoken by a magical fantasy Pokémon. I guess you either find this funny or you don’t. But beneath the humour are some interesting tonal and ideological acrobatics. The original Pokémon is based on collecting, training and battling Pokémon, often solving mysterious quests along the way. The film needs to retain this sense of excitement and wonder whist enmeshing it within the satisfyingly clear three act structure and familiar tropes of a police detective movie. This forces Tim and Pikachu to constantly reposition themselves - one minute they are cops - Pikachu the professional, Tim the amateur sleuth who is learning the ropes, the next moment they reject the association. As they question a witness Tim shouts ‘we are not cops!’. Unsure of who to trust, they work alone, distancing themselves from the bureaucracy and uniforms of the Ryme City PD. But the visual and dialogic references of the film, the development of the characters and the overarching structure of the film continuously reasserts them as policemen. The violence of these associations are comically softened - they carry staplers instead of revolvers - but beneath the magic and sparkle of the Pokémon experience, the ideology of the state has been introduced, placing limitations on the scope and magic of the quest -  both in terms of the cop film genre rules, and the rule of law.

But what type of cop is Pikachu? Is he a seedy private investigator, an institutionalised drone, an arrogant hobbyist or the iron fist of the state in a yellow velvet glove?  Pikachu is best seen as a composite of cop archetypes. His Sherlock Holmes hat signals at an independence of spirit and a firm commitment to traditional deductive reasoning. Any effete associations are undercut, however, by his easy slang, fast-talking humour and addictive coffee swilling.  He is a buddy cop, the consummate partner; he stays up late and rakes through the paperwork; he is wryly comedic in stressful scenarios; and he will touchingly put himself in danger to protect the public or fellow law enforcement (Tim, a policeman’s son, seeking justice and answers, but firmly rejecting the title of ‘cop’, represents both). In Hollywood, there are particular mythologies for particular cops; there is the new recruit defined by steadfastness and a hungry attitude. Detectives, by contrast, are usually marked out by their intellectual flair and epiphanic tendencies.Pikachu, notably, has reached detective rank (rather than a more mundane ‘Policeman/Procedural Pikachu’) but he fulfils all these roles. At times he even finds himself in bad cop territory - cheering Tim on as he interrogates a witness by pouring gasoline over a Mr Mime Pokémon. But Detective Pikachu cannot be a bad cop, he will never really torture witnesses with immolation because his cuteness is just as important as his investigative efficacy, both in terms of audience expectation, plot satisfaction and the market value of the billion dollar toy. Pikachu as conspirator to mock torture is funny because it is unexpected, it gives edge and something like grey areas to a character who has been characterised by a gormless wholesomeness since his first TV appearance in 1996. But the matches and the petrol must remain imaginary, and the joke, through mime, must be realised in the audience's minds - nothing like real flames can ever be shown on screen. The interactions between cops and toons in Who Framed Roger Roger Rabbit were often grim and violent - toons were roughed-up, melted and traumatised. This level of police-toy violence is unthinkable in Detective Pikachu.  Cuteness is what Pikachu (and Disney’s 2016 Zootopia) adds to the Hollywood construction of the policeman. A yellow fluffy aesthetic, sure, but also an unimpeachable wide-eyed goodness has been added to the canon of on-screen cop behaviours. Detective Pikachu is thus an important development in the mythology of the Good Cop. In times of crisis his large eyes, perky ears and red cheeks are, and must remain, as powerfully and cinematically reassuring as the blue and silver policeman’s uniform.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Nocturne (11/30) - Ao3 Link

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairings: Mostly Gen (variety later to come)

Summary: In which Cor Leonis loses his temper, accidentally acquires a kid, and tries to single-handedly dismantle the Lucian immigration system – and that’s before he and his lawyers find out about this Prophecy business. If the Astrals think Cor’s going to let his kid’s best friend die without a fight, they’ve gotten the wrong cheetah ‘taur.

(a young adult novel set in @kickingshoes’ ‘taur AU)

—————————————————————————————— ——————————————————————————————

Galadh is just as Clarus remembers it: a positive riot of color and sound.

Each house is painted in startlingly bright tones with different colors for the windows and doors and sometimes - often, really - having twisty, almost flowery designs painted as further decor, and buskers and street-sellers line virtually every street to sing out their wares or play an instrument. Even the people follow the same theme: with the exception of those in black mourning, the clothing they wear is bright and cheerful and noisy, their hair worn long and woven through with beads and feathers and braids. Even the Hunters here find that greens and yellows work better to blend with the wild jungles deeper in the islands than the dark browns and blacks preferred on the mainland.

And there are birds everywhere.

Colorful birds, loud birds, talking birds, birds perched on rooftops and on trees growing in the center of the sidewalk and on parked cars and bikes and even some birds sitting casually on people's heads as they sit at the cafés, speaking as much with their gestures as with their words.

And that's not to mention the monkeys. Just casually there, sitting on garbage cans and chowing down the way raccoons or squirrels do on the mainland, or at least did before the Starscourge started to reduce their numbers and turn them into mutated creatures out of nightmare.

Ah, Galadh. Nowhere quite like it, in Clarus’ view.

Interestingly, despite Galahd's long history as undisputed Lucian territory, the population here tends towards canidaetaur rather than felidaetaur, with inlanders generally being woodland creatures, like wolves and foxes, while beachsiders are often creatures that enjoy water, like bears and beavers and jaguars - though of course the population here, like everywhere else in Lucis, is growing increasingly mixed and diverse over time.

And, of course, let Clarus not forget to mention the food – the heavy scent of spice in the air, peppers and chilis and other mysterious spices that are hot enough to burn even people from Leide, who pride themselves on their spicy peppers, right alongside the stalls filled to the brim with freshly-caught fish or unusual fruit brought down from the jungles.

Clarus must admit that he enjoys Galahd's determined fondness of food and their resulting appreciation for heavier figures. He knows the tendency probably stems from the famines that still sporadically strike the islands whenever more severe hurricanes than the usual yearly fare batter them, but – as a tiger with, shall we say, not as much time to exercise as much as he probably should – he still appreciates it.

Oh, yes, and there’s the hurricanes.

Can't forget those.

That is, of course, the part of Galadh that Clarus doesn’t like, particularly as midsummer marks the onset of the rainy season, or more accurately the rain-and-storm season: Leviathan’s blessing, Ramuh’s curse, as the islanders liked to joke.

Galadh, wild child of the sea and storm.

Poetic, really.

At least their passage here was pretty quiet, thanks be to Leviathan – the Tidemother is generally blissfully calm for the period right around midsummer, her favorite day of the year – and they arrive without any large fanfare, just as planned.

The poor Harbormaster who came to collect their papers had something of a bad moment when he saw his King and Queen holding the paperwork with polite smiles that only barely covered how amusing they found this whole situation. It was rather funny, but, more importantly, it allowed them to disembark with remarkable swiftness and without all the ridiculous pomp that usually accompanies pre-announced royal visits - speeches and surprise presentations by local choirs and bands and whatnot. Always extremely charming, always extremely irritating to a traveler who just came rather a long way and just wants to take a nap.

Of course, no matter how quickly they managed their arrival, there still managed to be just enough time for Regis to be swamped by the (very surprised) local Galahdian politicos, but Regis is an old hand at these sort of events: he and Aulea are very effectively glad-handing them with the goal of putting them off their scent and reassuring them that there's no reason to be concerned. By all rights, Clarus ought to be helping with that, but instead he’s with Scientia, watching the children run around acquainting themselves with the harbor town – something he prefers by far.

The children, at least, are having a positive blast.

They're all keeping quite busy – Gladio looking through the stalls selling bright clothing and beads and jewelry made of shells, Ignis staring enraptured as one of the street vendors efficiently butchers and then sizzles up a giant shrimp in a medley of spices, Noctis and Prompto leaping over each other and rolling around in the sand of the beach...even Luna seems to have escaped her usual reticence, looking around her with a broad smile.

"Hey, pretty lady!" a local girl around Luna's age, holding a basket of brightly colored flowers with more flowers woven into her hair like a crown, calls out to her. "Buy a flower for your hair?"

Luna turns to look. "Oh, they're lovely!" she exclaims, clapping her hands together and trotting over to look closer.

The local girl – a maned fox 'taur, if Clarus is getting his more obscure species right – gapes at her. "Oh, wow," she says. "You've got the daintiest hooves I've ever seen."

Luna blushes.

Clarus is reminded, suddenly, of the first time Luna met Cindy, back in Hammerhead – her eyes going as wide as saucers and her cheeks going pink as the normally precociously self-possessed girl stuttered over a basic introduction – and he smiles. A pity, really, that the Glaciad is so far away at the tail end of winter – it looks like Luna will have her hands full of people she might want to ask to join her for that romantic festival's traditional joint cup of hot cocoa.

"Thank you," Luna is saying. "I love your legs, too – they're so long and graceful –"

"Oh, you don't have to say that –"

"No, really!"

Now both girls are blushing. Clarus pretends to inspect a vase, enjoying the little childhood romance unfolding in front of him – it's like something out of A Springtime's Stroll, the paperback romance novel he's currently reading. Cyrella thinks he's ridiculous for enjoying them, but Gladio certainly enjoys them as well when Clarus reads them aloud to him – he’s currently very invested in the resolution of the ongoing love quadrangle...

"Would you like a flower, then?" the girl blurts out, clearly desperate to get back onto some sort of even footing. "For your hair?"

"Oh, yes, I'd love one," and here Luna falters and glances down at the ground, "but I’m afraid I don't know how to put them in my hair."

"Oh," the local girl says. "Well – if you like – I can show you..?"

Oh, smooth, smooth! Clarus thinks admiringly. Well done, Luna!

(He is particularly amused by the idea that Lady Lunafreya, born amongst the beautiful blue sylleblossoms of Tenebrae, might find anything to do with flowers difficult.)

"I couldn't possibly bother you while you're at work –"

"No, no, I was just about to go out on break – my name's Crowe, by the way –"

"And I'm Luna. Do you mind if we go to the shade somewhere? It's only that I'm not used to it being so bright – it's my first visit to Galadh –"

"No wonder, what with you being so pale. Sure, come with me – you know, if this is your first visit here, I could show you to a nice ice cream parlor – the best one on the islands - my parents run it, it's just down the block –"

Luna glances briefly at Clarus, who nods his approval. "If it's just down the block, I don't see the issue. Keep your phone on," he advises. "I'll tell Scientia."

The two girls beam and run off.

Clarus is barely able to restrain himself from laughing at how efficiently Luna secured herself a date, even though he suspects that neither girl is entirely certain of what it is – after all, Crowe can't be much older than twelve to Luna's eleven. Ah, kitten love! Or puppy love, in little Crowe's case, and fawn love, in Luna's.

Oh, he wishes that Cyrella was here for him to share the joke! If only that damn doctor hadn't absolutely forbidden her from sea travel...

Ah, well.

He goes over to Scientia, who has her nose buried in a book that's half the size of his torso. "Luna –" he starts.

"Has run off with that Crowe girl to the ice cream shop, yes, I overheard," Scientia says, not looking up from her book. "They'll be back shortly – I saw it as we passed earlier; there's no room in there for them to sit. We should plan our next steps after that."

"Technically, the Hydread isn't until tomorrow, on midsummer itself; it’s only the Eve," Clarus offers. Luckily, he's already gotten used to the way Scientia's mind is already five steps ahead of everyone else's – he's learned to take it as a compliment that she doesn’t feel the need to explain herself to him. When she's in court, or dealing with people she thinks are slow, she suddenly becomes remarkably clear and straightforward and just a touch judgmental. It's a bit frightening, not least of all because Ignis does the same thing – and Clarus suspects that Gladio and the other boys are starting to pick up on it. They’re going to be terrors, each and every one of them. "We could spend the day doing tourist things, instead."

"What a marvelous idea," Regis says, limping up towards Clarus – no worse than usual, Clarus is pleased to note. He's managed to lose his Galahdian escort, probably by fobbing them off by promising to go to some fancy dinner later, and leaving it in their hands to prepare something suitable to his rank. "I don't think I've ever gone tourist-ing. What's there to do?"

"There are several famous landmarks," Scientia says dryly.

"No, thanks," Aulea says, following Regis closely. "Those we'll see by necessity when they want Regis – or I – or Noctis – to appear at all of them to wave at the local populace."

"Probably true," Clarus agrees ruefully. The price of being royalty...

"We could go to the beach and sun ourselves," Cor suggests. He looks rather fond of the idea. He would be, the overgrown kitten.

"Beach!" Noctis shouts. "We want beach!"

"Yeah! Beach!" Prompto joins in.

"No, thank you," Ignis says, wrinkling his nose fastidiously. "I don't want sand in my fur, thanks."

"The sand's somewhat inevitable everywhere you go in the beachside," the girl from earlier, Crowe, says. She and Luna have indeed returned, holding ice creams in one hand and holding each other's hands with the other.

Clarus is going to die of cuteness overload, he just knows it.

"Sorry, kid," she says apologetically to Ignis. She clearly hasn’t recognized any of them, which clearly pleases Regus immensely. It won’t last, of course, but it is nice to go a little incognito for a change, and Regis is clearly relishing every moment of it. “It really does get everywhere.”

"Is there anywhere we can go that won't have sand, then?" Ignis asks with a sigh. "I assume going inland would be too burdensome..?"

"Sadly, yes," Aulea says. "We need to be here tomorrow for the Hydread ceremony. Besides, I rather like the sound of sand."

"Well, there's always the caves," Crowe offers hesitantly, Luna squeezing her hand supportively.

"The caves?" Regis asks.

"Oh, they're lovely," Crowe says effusively. "They're technically inland, but they're right by the waterside, not far at all. No one ever goes to them in the summer, since they're lots prettier in the winter, but you can't come to Galahd and not see the Caves of Wind and Wave."

"Are those the ones with the cave paintings?" Scientia asks, even putting down her book – a major achievement. "I've heard good things."

"That's where the old ceremonies to raise Leviathan used to be held," Luna murmurs, leading the adults to glance at each other meaningfully.

"I could do caves," Gladio says, glancing at Ignis. "Caves are cool. They're spooky."

"I don't want to do spooky, though," Noctis pouts. "I want to go to the beach."

"Well, how about we split up?" Regis offers, smiling. Clarus likes the look on him: he looks years younger, and lighter. He's needed a vacation for far too long. This isn't a real vacation of course – they're here for the Covenant with Leviathan – but it's just close enough to one for it to already have good effects. "I'm rather interested in these caves myself – Aulea, Cor, why don't you take Noctis and Prompto to the beach, while the rest of us go look at these caves?"

"Really, no one goes in the summer," Crowe says hastily, clearly embarrassed now that they're taking her up on her suggestion. "The tides are high, you know – you can't really get the full impact of it –"

"The paintings are still supposed to be visible, even in the summer," Scientia says crisply. "We'll take our chances, I think. Will you show us the way to go?"

People do not generally say no when Scientia asks something of them. Crowe does not do so now.

Clarus arches an eyebrow at Regis. He knows his old friend well enough: this little splitting up isn't really about preferring the caves to the beach. It's about Luna's statement – that this might be where they need to go for the Covenant – and the fact that Regis wants to check it out first before letting Noctis anywhere near.

Regis smiles back, utterly unashamed of being seen through.

"Fine," Cor says. "You take three-fourths of the guard."

"What? No. Half, at most. Someone needs to watch over Noctis."

"Two-thirds. I’m watching over Noctis."

"Fine."

"Guard?" Crowe echoes with a frown.

"Don't worry about it," Luna says with a bright smile. "Can you show us the way?"

"Sure," Crowe says, smiling helplessly back, utterly distracted. "Come with me."

"Have fun at your beach," Clarus tells Cor with a grin. Cor rolls his eyes back.

Cor and Aulea head off towards the beach with Noctis and Prompto, while Regis, Clarus, and Scientia take Gladio and Ignis and follow Crowe, with Luna in tow close beside her, on a much less crowded trail inland. Their Crownsguard escort drifts along with them, quiet and unobtrusive.

It's a pleasant walk – somewhat steep, but nothing they can't handle, especially at the slow strolling pace they've adopted – for the first half-hour.

Then they discover that the main road to the caves is apparently closed for repair.

"Damn," Regis says mildly, frowning at the roadblock with its large and very unhelpful sign. "Guess we'll have to go back."

"Nah," Crowe says dismissively. "We can go in the other end, if you don't mind walking single file."

"We don't," Scientia says. "Other end?"

"Yeah," Crowe says. "It's not really an official entrance, but all the local kids go through that way. Cuts down on the line. And you end up on the Oracle's platform, the ancient one, which is pretty cool."

Clarus frowns. He's not sure this is a good idea –

"Excellent," Regis says. "Let's go."

Clarus sighs faintly. The vacation business is clearly going to Regis' head.

Still, Crowe is starting to stride down a much smaller dirt path and Regis is following, not to mention Ignis leaping along the rocky road like – well, like an excited goat kid. So there's clearly no choice but to go onwards.

It's another half-hour, this time padding along increasingly small and shabby roads before they get to the cave entrance. Still, that's more due to their slow pace – Gladio and Ignis keep dashing off to look at flowers or plants or even small animals – than the distance, even if the last portion of the descent towards the cave is, in fact, such a narrow path that going down single-file is the only way to proceed.

Crowe seems to have belatedly realized that she's guiding around some moderately important people (it was probably the Crownsguard's presence becoming increasingly less subtle as they left town and trees behind and forcing them to go out in the open despite their best attempts to remain subtle) and has been spending the last few minutes attempting to downplay the loveliness of the caves she spent the first half of the trip boasting about.

"– really, it's summer, so you won't get the full effect, like I said," she's saying, somewhat desperately. "The light's all wrong, you know, and the water level's pretty high, so you don't really get a sense of scale – there's a reason people don't ever come here in the summer –"

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Luna says, not for the first time.

"I mean, the cave paintings, they're there, sure, but we're coming in at the weird end, you know, since the other road broke down, so I don't know exactly how many we'll be able to see –"

"I'm sure it will be fine," Scientia says sternly.

Crowe shuts her mouth with a small peep.

Clarus and Regis share amused looks. It's rather nice not being the intimidating one of the group, for once.

Unfortunately, Crowe's nervousness is such that even Scientia's implacable force of will can only stop her for a while. "It's just that I wanted to say it up front," she murmurs as she pushes aside the vines growing on the cave wall to reveal a battered old door so well hidden that even the Crownsguard that preceded her couldn't find it, and stepping straight though before they could stop her and insist that they go first, "so that you won't be disappointed when...wait, hold up, what in Leviathan's name is –?"

Clarus, who slipped in second – he's the King's Shield, he doesn't need a Crownsguard escort to go gawk at some cave walls – puts his hand firmly over Crowe's mouth.

"Say nothing," he murmurs into her ear, his eyes fixed at the sight over her shoulder, even as the rest of their party filters in through the door.

The caves are lovely – as huge as promised, with the famous blue-and-green sheen – but Clarus has no time for that.

The caves which no one visits during the summer, the caves with the main road to them marked as being under repair –

The caves are not empty.

"What is that?" Scientia asks, keeping her voice as low as possible. She's picked up Ignis and covered his mouth with her hand; Gladio stands by her side, looking with increasing alarm at the grave-faced adults around him, but luckily he's had enough training to know that it’s time to go quiet.

"That," Regis says grimly, his voice low, "is a Niflheim airship."

"No," Clarus corrects quietly, looking at the gigantic ships wrought in black metal, with glowing red windows – it's not one ship; it's two, no, three massive airships, each one of them a fleet ship capable of holding multiple attack ships filled with MT soldiers or the carrier ships which Niflheim traditionally fills with daemons to help terrify the local populace after the initial conquest, and next to those behemoth ships there are also a number of smaller sea-ships equipped with tows designed to pull the airships into and out of the caves. "That is an invasion force."

Crowe starts struggling in shock for a moment, but then it fades and Clarus feels comfortable releasing her. "Invasion," she whispers, pasty-faced with terror. "Of Galahd? But..."

She trails off.

Clarus knows what she meant to say. Galahd's long history as undisputed Lucian territory is primarily for two reasons: one, sea-averse Niflheim wasn't particularly interested in a territory that dealt with yearly hurricanes that ranged unpredictably from 'problematic' to 'devastating', and two –

Two, whether they came by air or by sea, the isolated Galahd would see them coming.

But that didn't apply if they were already here.

They must have started smuggling the ships here piece-by-piece the very second the tourist season ended and built them up in Galadh itself.

"What are the forces available on Galahd?" Regis asks, quietly but forcefully – the relaxed father on vacation gone and replaced by the King of Lucis. The ring on his finger is glowing faintly, only noticeable because of the gloomy darkness of the caves.

"Not enough, your Majesty," Clarus answers, knowing what Regis really wants to know. "Not to resist a force of this size. The Galahd Coast Guard is formidable, but it will be utterly overwhelmed. We could call up reinforcements from Insomnia Port, but their warships will take hours to equip, and then more to get here – particularly since they'll need to keep some back to protect the Port itself."

"Still, a few hours will surely be enough –" Scientia starts.

Clarus cuts her off with a firm shake of his head. "They were probably originally planning on attacking during the notoriously calm weather of the Hydread tomorrow," he says, his sharp eyes fixed on a platform on one of the airships furthest away from them and closest to the supposedly "closed" main road to the caves. He recognizes one of the figures there, one of the Burgomasters of the port town in which they landed. He was part of the party greeting Regis and Aulea with vaguely panicked expressions earlier, except evidently his panic wasn't because he need to find a way to host the royal family in a suitable manner. "It would've been a massacre, all those people unarmed and celebrating, Insomnia Port all cluttered up with the paper ships for the holiday and slow to respond...if they kept to that original schedule, we’d be able to summon help in time.”

“You don’t think they will?”

“No. They weren't expecting the King of Lucis to arrive with a squadron of Crownsguard, and it's thrown off all their plans, since they don’t know why we came. Regardless, the reason doesn’t really matter: whether we’ve come to try to fight back against them, or whether it’s an accident that gives them an opportunity to strike at the royal family and shatter Lucian morale, they know they need to move quickly, before back-up arrives. They'll be attacking now, instead."

Even as he watches, the first of the great airships creakily begins to cast off, the ropes and chains holding it in place by the dock starting to fall loose, one by one.

"My parents –" Crowe croaks.

"Scientia," Regis says, taking control. There's that tone in his voice, the one that draws the eye irresistibly towards him - that deep, almost-growl that precedes the roar of the lion. There can be no doubt in anyone's mind, now, that the King of Lucis is speaking. "I need you to take the children back up the path as quickly and quietly as possible. When you get back to an area with cell service, immediately inform my wife and Cor of what is happening, then alert Insomnia Port. The local town must be evacuated at once, with their Coast Guard and every able-bodied member of the militia – or who's willing to try to fight – told to expect invasion. The Crownsguard will go with you to assist with preparations."

He turns to Crowe. "Do not despair. This is Galahd, and you, its children, are born of the sea and storm," he says to her, and her back goes straight, her head lifting higher under his regard. "You will not fall so easily before Niflheim's might, and I swear to you that Lucis will not stand aside and let it happen. Are your people trained in civilian evacuations?"

"Oh, yes," Crowe says eagerly. "We're all trained – but the alarm is only meant to go off in the event of an unexpected tsunami –"

"You will go at once to activate that alarm," he says. "You may do so on my authority. Know that Insomnia Port will send what reinforcements it can as soon as it can."

"Will – do you think we’ll be able to hold them off, your Majesty?" she asks.

He puts his hand on her shoulder and looks her in the eye. "We will fight to defend your country," Regis Lucis Caelum vows, and no one who looked at him would doubt that he meant it with every fiber of his being. "Whatever we can do to ensure that Galahd does not fall, we will do. But even should it fall in the end, know that Niflheim will pay for the privilege in a river of blood."

Crowe's eyes are shining. If she survives, Clarus would wager that Cor will have another new recruit for the Crownsguard in a handful of years. She nods and goes without another word.

Scientia lingers a moment longer after Crowe has left running at full speed. "Your Majesty," she says.

Regis looks at her.

"There is – another thing," she says, uncharacteristically hesitant. "That we could do. Perhaps. To make the odds a little less – overwhelming."

"At this point, all suggestions are very welcome," Clarus says wryly. "We're facing a force that's likely four times the size of the existing military power on this island, assuming Niflheim hasn't changed their typical approach to invasion. Every little bit might help."

"More than a little bit," Scientia says, and her habitual impassive calm has settled over her once more – her hesitation before was merely uncertainty as to the extent of their need, Clarus realizes, and now that he has confirmed the direness of the situation, she has put aside all doubt. "Let me remind you that we stand now at the Oracle's platform, where once, long ago, they called upon the sleeping Leviathan."

They all stare at her, Clarus and Regis and even the head of the Crownsguard escorting them, a sturdy 'taur named Riyad. Her meaning is quite clear.

Scientia turns to Luna, who has very nearly been her adopted daughter this last year and who she loves dearly, and yet her voice is calm and certain when she asks, "Can you do it?"

Luna swallows, and nods. "If I had the Trident –"

"The royal Armiger," Clarus says, looking at Regis. "It's only a shadow of the real Trident, of course; the real one is in Sylvia's care, but it might do the trick regardless. And if Leviathan rises –"

"Then the raging sea will come with her," Regis finishes. The Tidemother rather famously does not enjoy having her slumber disturbed. "I see the mission I sent Crowe on was more accurate than I realized - there may indeed yet be a tsunami here today."

Luna stands up straight – only eleven years old, dressed in a white frock selected more to be appropriate for the beach than for formal ceremonies, but with steel in her eyes. Sylvia's steel, but Scientia's, too. "I will do it," she says. Her voice brooks no disagreement – not any of theirs, nor even of Leviathan herself. "With or without the true Trident. I will summon Leviathan."

"You will, and you will do it well," Scientia says, and Luna's back, somehow, goes even straighter with pride. "Two instructions: do not die, and return safely to us when you are done. Come along, Ignis, Gladio."

"But –" Gladio starts to protest, looking at Clarus. "Dad –"

"I need you to go, Gladio," Clarus says firmly, fixing the image of his son in his mind. He prays this will not be the last time they see each other alive, but he knows all too well the risks of war. He’s always known. "I am needed here, to guard my King and Luna, but I need you to go to the town to help with the evacuation, to help save lives. You are an Amicitia, my son: a Shield. This is what we do. Go now."

Gladio's lower lip is trembling, but he nods firmly. This time, when Scientia begins to move, he goes with her without complaint.

Clarus watches them until they disappear up along the face of the cliff, then turns back to his King – and his Oracle.

"Let us begin," Regis says, and summons the Armiger.

Cor ends the call on his cell phone.

Aulea, standing beside him and listening to Scientia's report from the second he realized what it was, looks grim. "What do we do now?" she asks, her eyes fixed on the surf where Noctis and Prompto are still leaping over each other, splashing and rolling in the wet sand like the excitable kittens (well, kitten and puppy) that they've barely outgrown being.

"Scientia reports that Crowe has gone up ahead, so the evacuation alarm should sound any minute now," Cor says. "Everyone will go inland, I assume; we'll join them. Once I see you and the children are safe, I will go help with the resistance efforts."

"There's nothing else..?"

"The priority is keeping Noctis and Prompto safe," Cor says firmly. He knows he should add that Noctis' safety is especially important now, given the Prophecy, but he can't bring himself to do so – it's true, of course, but he can't voice anything that would suggest that if Aulea finds herself in a terrible position of being only able to rescue one child, she ought to pick her own, the Chosen King, future savior of the world, instead of...

Instead of his own.

Aulea puts a hand on his shoulder. She understands, without words, what he means. "I will look after them both," she promises, grabbing her bag and tossing him the sword he brought, because he always has at least one sword even for supposedly innocent trips to the beach. And to think Clarus was teasing him for being paranoid! “Remember, should the worst come to worst, I can in times of dire need call on Regis' shadow Armiger, too, and I'm pretty handy with that bow."

"You always were the cleverest," Cor tells her, but he's unable to laugh at his own joke, so it comes out sincere. "Come on, let's get them."

Neither Noctis nor Prompto particularly wants to stop playing, but one look at the faces of their guardians puts an end to their complaints.

The alarm begins to ring.

Alarms, plural, would be more accurate – blaring sounds start coming from all directions, and flags colored red suddenly unfurling from the tops of all the highest buildings.

"Tsunami!" someone shouts.

"On the Hydread?" someone else exclaims disbelievingly.

But, disbelief of no disbelief, they all start moving inland. The people of Galahd do not play games with the sea, Cor is pleased to see.

The noise of all the beachgoers abandoning their bags and towels and picnic baskets and trudging up towards the town, and the safer high ground of the inland beyond, is very nearly deafening, but Cor's ears have been trained since childhood to hear and identify sounds even through the roar of the battlefield. That talent has saved his life more than once.

He identifies such a sound now.

"Aulea, stop," he orders, and she does, clutching both children's hands in hers and pulling them in closer as Cor draws his sword, turning just in time to deflect the dagger thrown at their backs.

They look like regular Galahdians, out for a day on the beach – loose clothing, one of them even shirtless – but they move like soldiers, and there are weapons in their hands, pulled out of baskets and sun-umbrella poles.

Niflheim trained, Cor determines, even as he darts forward to attack those nearest to him. If Scientia's report of Clarus' prediction of an attack expected tomorrow is right, and he has no reason to doubt it, these people would have been mingling with the crowd for days to ensure that they looked familiar to the others, safe, and then they would call out for people to follow them, and people would have done so – and only once they had led them somewhere out of sight would the swords and the guns come out –

They're good, these infiltrators. They have to be to do their jobs – to go alone into enemy territory to murder panicked and unarmed civilians who might try to fight back is not a job for the weak or the untrained – but, at the same time, they're infiltrators. They're disposable; they have to be, to be sent ahead into such danger.

They're not that good.

Cor kills the first three before they've taken another step, and the next two after that before they've even fully finished drawing their weapons.

But there are more still coming.

Many more.

Cor lifts his sword in a ready stance, his mind calm and clear. Niflheim’s forces have identified them, then; this many infiltrators all blowing their covers, all at once, can mean nothing else. They have been given new orders – to get these particular targets – that supersede all others.

Good.

That means none of them will be left to murder innocent civilians in the retreat.

Aulea has put Noctis and Prompto behind her, producing a gun from her beach-bag.

Cor’s trained on sand before, and he doesn’t let the uncertain surface slow him down, even as the ‘taurs rushing him trip and fall as they try to pounce. He ducks and darts between them, rearing back on his hind legs to rip at their bodies with his forelegs while he strikes at them with the sword in his hands. The daggers he rips free from their hands he throws back at the ones with guns, and he can hear Aulea start firing at them as well.

The crowd has started to run away from them now, leaving them alone on the beach – his Crownsguard are here, Basiana and Serio and Maero and Tristus and a bare handful more, and on his orders they form a protective ring around Aulea and the children – but the infiltrators are doing a good job separating them from the crowd.

And the sea has started churning.

“Leviathan is rising!” Aulea shouts, jerking her head towards the sea – it very effectively distracts the ‘taur Cor is fighting now, and Cor uses the opportunity to strike him down before glancing at the ocean.

The waves are coming hard now, large and choppy and frothing white at the tops as if a hurricane is approaching, and yet Cor is standing on the beach: there is no wind to explain the winds, and only a scattering of clouds in the sky.

Leviathan is, indeed, rising.

“MTs!” Maero bellows. “From above!”

Not good. Cor leaps ahead, cutting down two more infiltrators – he’s gotten most of them, now – but he sees what Maero saw: a drop ship, buzzing in from above. It’s been sent ahead from the fleet ship Scientia had reported seeing undock itself, no doubt in response to the infiltrators’ report that the Queen and Prince appeared to be (relatively) unprotected.

Cor glances towards to the town. The nearest Galahdian Coast Guard outpost – a lone station – has seen the oncoming threat, and the poor lone ‘taur that was manning it is screaming on his radios, shouting out orders and gesturing towards their little group, but back-up will clearly be some time in coming.

He gestures to Basiana and Serio – stay back, watch them – gestures for Maero and Tristus to back him, and he charges straight into the MTs as they land on the sand.

This is much harder – the infiltrators were more agile on the sand, having been trained for it, but the MTs are wearing full armor, and their unnaturally jerky movements sometimes make them harder to predict than standard fighters.

Niflheim MTs, soulless robots with armored metallic bodies shaped like a standard hound ‘taur, like machines but with the intelligence and reaction times of regular ‘taurs behind those empty glowing red eyes – Cor knows, from the information that he obtained from Justina’s laboratory, the monstrous way in which they are made, but it doesn’t matter to him now. It can’t matter now.

Now, all that matters is the fighting.

Cor has always known that one day he would come across a battle he would lose, and this one isn’t looking great. But he will not let them have Prompto or Noctis, even if it costs him his own life.

One MT – a gigantic axe-wielder – manages to get him with a nasty backhanded swing, forgoing the sharp side of the axe in favor of just walloping Cor on the side of the head, knocking him off his paws, but just as he’s lifting the axe to bring the sharp end down at Cor – Cor struggling to lift his sword in an attempt to at least deflect the blow –

The MT’s head gets blown off with a massive blast.

That’s not Aulea – she only has a pea-shooter, really – and none of his Crownsguard have a gun that powerful.

The Coast Guard...?

No.

There are ‘taurs charging out of the water, guns in their hands – two otters, a capybara holding the rifle that probably saved Cor's life, and even a frankly massive hippopotamus ‘taur dual wielding two-handed bastard swords, one in each hand. They’re not dressed like Coast Guard – in fact, Cor’s never seen the slick wet fabric they’re wearing before, something like waterproof neoprene that shimmers wet in the light.

“Queen Mother!” the capybara ‘taur calls out. “Bring the Chosen King here; we can keep him safe!”

Aulea starts, badly, and one of her shots goes wide.

Cor understands her concern – no one should know that Noctis is the Chosen King of Prophecy, because they haven’t told anyone – but he can see more drop ships in the distance, the gigantic fleet ship not far behind, and he doesn’t think they have a choice about who to trust right now.

He gestures to his Crownsguard – keep formation and advance – and calls to her, “Bring the children, Aulea! Quickly!”

She nods, putting her gun away, and snatches up both crying children from where they were hiding behind her.

They’re only six.

Cor’s eyes narrow in a burst of fury, and he takes advantage of the MTs trying to cope with this unexpected threat from an unexpected angle to throw a lightning bomb at them. He’s standing close enough to it that his fur goes on end, but the vast majority of them go down all at once, and between him, his Crownsguard and the otters from the sea, they’re able to kill the rest of them quickly.

“Quickly,” one of the otters says, glancing back at the ocean with concern. “The bubble won’t last that long at the surface.”

Cor doesn’t understand, but he runs towards the ocean, his Crownsguard at his heels, because Aulea is nearly there, coming up to the hippopotamus.

“Into the surf,” the hippopotamus ‘taur is bellowing. She’s a massive woman, with deep black skin and tight corkscrew curls that are already defying gravity despite the thrashing waves of water all around them. “Now!”

They follow her into the raging tide.

Prompto is crying, Cor can hear him, crying and howling; Noctis is wailing, a high hollow shriek; Aulea is shouting, desperate for answers; the waves are crashing around them, louder and louder and –

They all tumble forward into what Cor can only describe as - well, as a giant bubble.

The water is held back by the clear almost plastic-y sides of the bubble and the roar of the waves is muted. Perhaps most importantly, they seem to be breathing without difficulty. The capybara is at the front (Cor thinks) of the bubble, doing something on some sort of keypad, and the bubble begins to move forward, first simply away from the beach in a straight line and then, once they’ve gotten past the shallower waters of the beach, starting to turn down to head deeper into the waters.

“Woooooow,” Prompto – always inclined to look at the bright side of life – says, his tears drying up. He elbows Noctis. “Look, Noct! Fish!”

There are indeed many brightly-colored tropical fish around them.

“You should also look at the coral reef,” the hippopotamus ‘taur suggests kindly. “We’ll be passing that soon.”

Noctis sniffs a little, still not fully recovered. “Coral reef? I think Iggy was talking about that on the boat ride over…”

“Yeah, he was,” Prompto says. “He had that book – with all the colors! When will we see the reef, Ms. – uh, sorry, what’s your name?”

“I am Dido,” the hippopotamus ‘taur says. “The capybara is Bomilcar; the otters are Mago and Minthos.”

“My name’s Prompto Argentum,” Prompto says proudly. “That’s Cor Leonis – he’s my Cor – and this here’s Noct and that’s his mom, Aulea. And then there’s Basiana an’ Tristus an’ Maero an’ Serio an’ –”

“What sort of ship is this?” Basiana interrupts to ask, looking around. She hasn’t put her weapon down: good. They might be trusting these 'taurs, but there's a limit to any amount of trust. “I’ve never seen anything like this before – where did you get this tech?”

Aulea has different concerns. “Why did you call –” She hesitates a moment, since the other Crownsguard members are not necessarily in on the secret yet. “Why did you call Noctis what you called him?”

“Because he is, of course,” the capybara ‘taur – Bomilcar – says, relinquishing control of the bubble to one of the otters in a practiced hand-off. “We were sent by our King to yours, so as to offer our aid when you approach the Hydrean for the Contract. We are the closest land to the Tidemother’s domain, after all.”

“Your King?” Cor echoes, eyebrows arching. As far as he knows, there’s only one King – that of Lucis – while Niflheim has an Emperor, Tenebrae an Oracle, and Accordo a Secretary.

“Oh, yes,” Bomilcar says. “King Hasdrubal the Third – the King of Atlantioi.”

[ladye11e]

Deception pt 13

The conflict between the Assassins and the Templars is getting out of hand. Lies, deceit and subterfuge, now you must pick a side...

Tagging @geekgoddess813 @ermergerd517 @sweet-flash @i-wontgivein  💕

Link to the full fic so far is Here

Characters: Jacob Frye/Reader

You had been here over a week now, and you were starting to become impatient at there being absolutely no sign of any activity around the warehouse. Connor had been reaching out to his contacts here in hopes they would have even a scrap of information on a timeline for the deal, but they had all come back to him empty-handed. Even Jacob who had been prancing about rather cheerfully for the past few days (forcing you to lie out of your ass when everyone started bombarding you with questions as to why he was in such a good mood) had begun to become surly with the lack of action as he put it. In hopes of boosting everyone's morale, Henry in his world of wisdom had decided to cook one of his legendary dinners tonight, and you had been tasked with fetching the obscenely long list of ingredients from the market.

Squinting to try and decipher the man's ridiculously swirly handwriting for the next thing he required, you gave up with an exasperated sigh and handed the slip of paper to the spice vendor, hoping that he could figure out what you needed. While you waited as he began spooning some kind of yellow powder into a bag, the tingly feeling at the back of neck erupted and your eyebrows raised when you spotted Gist at another stall, directly behind the one you were at. He had followed you it seemed, as when you caught his eye he tilted his head in a subtle gesture to the right, confusing you at what he could possibly want. Paying for your purchases and stuffing them in your backpack, you continued to walk down the narrow pathway between the stalls, keeping your gaze on him out of the corner of your eye as he followed his own route to the end. Just as you reached his position, he took an abrupt left turn and stumbled, crashing into you and almost sending you flying. Usually, you would have been annoyed at someone doing something like this, but as soon as you felt a slight pull at your coat pocket, you knew there had to be a good reason for him to approach you this way.

"So dreadfully sorry miss, how clumsy of me. Are you alright?"

You waved your hand dismissively at his unnecessary gesture and pulled your bag back up on your shoulder, walking briskly away towards the side streets eagerly to find out what he slipped into your jacket. As soon as you were alone and convinced that no-one could see you, you closed your hand around the contents of pocket and slowly pulled it out, quite surprised to see an earbud in your hand. You hissed when the whistle of interference screeched in your ear for a second as you put it in, pretending to look for something in your bag when a couple strolled past you leisurely as you were now on high alert.

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes, very subtle Christopher." You whispered mockingly, but it was completely lost on him through the transmission. "What's the matter? I haven't got long."

"I know, I'll be quick. I have no idea where you got your intelligence from, but I can assure you it's wrong. Starrick is not at the warehouse that you have been watching."

You literally felt the colour drain from your face as he spoke, staring into space as you contemplated just how on earth such a grave error could have been made.

"(Name) are you still there?"

"I'm here. How did you?.... Actually, it doesn't matter. Where is he if he's not at the location we've been told?"

"Just over the river from where we docked. In Southwark, Butlers Wharf. You need to hurry, the deal is happening tomorrow night."

Breaking out into a sprint back towards the curio shop; narrowly missing several cyclists who were on the pavement, you tugged out your phone and sent a mass message to all of your colleagues, telling them all to meet you at Henry's as soon as humanly possible.

"Gist. Thank you."

"Not a problem dear. Arms should never be sold onto the streets, especially when they could find their way into the hands of children and it's easier for you to stop him than us. One other thing...."

"What?" You panted, encouraging him to hurry up with whatever he was going to say when he just trailed off.

"Nothing, we can talk about it another time. You're nearly back, so I'll say goodbye for now. Good luck."

It was not lost on you that you were an Assassin working for the Templars, who were helping the Assassins, stop a Templar. You would have laughed if it had not been so ironic. Pulling the earbud out and slipping it into your jeans, you glanced around briefly when you realised that he knew exactly where you were at that moment in time, actually chuckling and picking up your pace when you saw a drone fly off into the distance. Men and their toys...

You were met with four gawking expressions when you burst through the door of the Curio shop, two of them turning into glaring as Jacob rushed over and rubbed your back when you held on to the counter, trying to slow your breathing so you could speak.

"We... were wrong... Starrick. Wrong.... warehouse.." You puffed, grabbing a map off the side and unrolling it in front of Connor.

"What?! Are you sure? How did you come across this information? I was certain that the intel I received was correct."

"Someone must have paid your contacts off to feed you lies. I still know one or two people around here, trust me, I'm right. And I've been told it's happening tomorrow night, so we've gotta act fast. That's where he is."

Everyone leant over to see where you were pointing at on the map, slightly bewildered before immediately scrambling to gather the equipment that you would need to relocate, all silently hoping that you weren't too late.

Peering over the side of the Tower Bridge, you picked up the camera and zoomed in when you saw another van stop outside the warehouse, watching several quite heavily armed men with red shirts get out.

"That's four in the past hour. What on earth are they doing?" You whispered to Evie as you passed her the camera so she could take more photo's if she needed.

"I have no idea (name), but it's big whatever it is. It seems that you were correct after all. Now, where is that idiotic brother of mine?"

At that exact moment as if he had been waiting to do a dramatic entrance, Jacob dropped down from the ledge above and sauntered over to where you were, leaning on the edge of the rail casually and staring out into the distance.

"You rang?"

"At last. You need to follow that van when it leaves, find out where they're bringing those crates from. Do you think you can manage that? Do stay out of sight, the last thing we need is somebody spotting you."

A devious grin crept up his face when he saw the men re-emerge from the warehouse and get back in the truck, cracking his knuckles and rubbing his hands together now that he had actually got something to entertain himself with for a while.

"Of coooourse. I am the night....."

"Jacob, no."

"I am. Batman." He growled mischievously.

Both you and Evie slapped your foreheads at the same time, dragging your hands down your faces as Jacob let out a 'Mwa ha ha' and shot his zip line to the factory next to the bridge, swinging out of sight.

"You're sleeping with him again."

You slowly turned your head to Evie as she just came out with that matter of factly; your eyes as wide as saucers and panic consuming every fibre of your being when you saw that she was staring at you, her face completely void of expression.

"Evie... we're not.."

Trailing off when she just raised her hand and turned her attention back to the warehouse when yet another van pulled up, you racked your brain in the several moments of uncomfortable silence in trying to figure out how she could have possibly found out about what happened between you and Jacob last week.

"That was not a question, so I'm not expecting an answer. Don't even think I've not noticed the way he's been acting around you. I am only going to say one thing. Break his heart, and I break you. Is that understood?"

You nodded somberly at her ultimatum, not even for a second doubting everything she had just said. In the middle of cursing yourself for getting in a predicament that you had hoped to avoid entirely, you jumped when a hand lay on your shoulder; turning around to see Connor carrying a large black case.

"Are you okay (name)? You seem disturbed."

"Er yeah, I'm fine." You blurted, clearing your throat before you adorned a face-splitting grin when you realised what he had brought with him. "Is that what I think it is?!"

Crouching down beside him when he took a knee and lay the case on the floor; undoing the clips enthusiastically, you couldn't help but gaze in envy at the newest addition to his collection. You trailed your fingers over the smoothness of the recurve bow, plucking the string gently before tugging out a small leather clad box and shaking it gingerly. You moved out of his way when he pulled the bow out along with several untipped arrows, taking the box off you and flipping it open to reveal what looked like miniature cameras attached to a vast array of tips.

"I had to call in a few favours to get these, but given our circumstances, I believe it to be worthwhile."

Both you and Evie watched Connor admirably as he assembled six of the arrows and lay five of them neatly on top of the rail, knocking the last and taking aim at the top of the building next to the warehouse.

"Connor, wait!" Evie hollered when she suddenly spotted something that made her face twist up in loathing. You looked out into the distance to where she was pointing, seeing a well dressed red-haired woman, carrying a briefcase and yelling at a short, stocky man who looked to be some kind of doctor.

"Lucy Thorne. I must find out what's in that briefcase, I'll meet you back at the train."

You stood there at a loss for words when she jumped down the side of the bridge and onto the street without a moment's hesitation as a town car pulled up beside the woman, then turned to face Connor who had the same bewildered expression as you. Shrugging your shoulders and turning your attention back to the warehouse, you nudged Connor with your elbow when you saw that everyone had left and he could carry on placing the new cameras. It only took him a few seconds to get the whole street entirely under watch, firing the arrows rapidly with deadly accuracy before anyone came back and noticed something whizzing through the air.

"Pleeeease teach me how to use one of those? I'm a good student, promise."

Connor chuckled when you made grabby hands at his bow as he began packing it away, passing you a small remote type contraption which you stared at quizzically while he adjusted the strap so he could carry the case over his shoulder.

"I am surprised that you don't already know, I will happily show you when we return home. Fix that somewhere safe, it will transmit the signals back to the Frye's train."

You let out a little excited squeal and threw your arms around him briefly before hunting around for somewhere decent to hide the black box, snapping your fingers when you spotted an ideal nook in between the rails. Skipping back over and linking your arm through his with a huge grin, he tutted and frowned at you when you cursed out loud as the unmistakable sound of a steam train came from your left.

"Shit! Oops, sorry. Come on, I don't fancy running around London chasing the thing!"

You made it to the tracks just in time; the driver had apparently been told you were coming as he had slowed down significantly considering he was in between stations. Grabbing Connors extended hand after he had jumped up first, you made your way into the middle carriage; inhaling deeply and smiling when the familiar smell of gunpowder and old books tickled your nose. Other than the couple of laptops that were on the desk and a few boxes stacked up in the corner, it was just how you remembered it. Your reminiscing was suddenly cut short when two heavy thuds echoed out from above, followed by some very loud arguing. Evie was the first to barge through the door with a resounding bang, making you and Connor wince when Jacob came in straight after and continued with the quarrel.

"Please tell me, dear sister, how is it MY fault you lost Thorne?!"

"You know exactly how!" Evie growled as she stormed over to him and poked him in the chest forcefully. "Always getting in the way, your incessant need to be in the middle of everything! You always let your personal feelings compromise our missions!"

"Excuuuse me?!"

You looked up at Connor again when Evie stared at you pointedly, seeing he was to trying to get a word in edgeways for probably the third time since the twins came in, pursing your lips together and sighing when you could see that he was getting riled up at the bickering. You couldn't hold back the giggle that erupted when he suddenly pulled out his tactical tomahawk from his belt and slammed it into the desk; taking a rather hefty chunk out of it, making the siblings instantly clam up and stare at him wide-eyed.

"Enough! We have more important things to be doing than arguing over something so frivolous! No better than children the pair of you, I suggest that the matter is dropped so we can carry on with our preparations."

Both Evie and Jacob nodded shamefacedly before giving each other one last death stare, Connor dragging her off to the other side of the carriage and leaving Jacob with you.

"Well, now that I definitely didn't miss. So what happened?"

"Oh, nothing much, just Evie blaming me for her mistakes!"

You elbowed him hard in the ribs when he said that last bit purposefully louder, making him grimace from both the pain that you had caused him and the seething expression from Connor.

"You know that's not what I meant, I've never gotten involved in your arguments, you know that. The crates, where are they coming from?"

Standing there with your hands on your hips irritably as he flopped down on the sofa and put his feet up, you lashed out and knocked his hat off his head when he pulled it down over his eyes without answering you.

"Oi! Don't you start, I've had enough of women harassing me for one night thank you."

You rubbed your face when he picked his hat up off the floor and exaggerated brushing it off before placing it back over his eyes, then tapped your finger on your bottom lip when you knew you weren't going to get anywhere like this, so as usual, you had to come up with some other way of coercing what you needed out of him. Glancing over your shoulder to see Evie and Connor with their backs to you and deep in conversation about some documents on the desk in front of them, you gracefully sat down on top of Jacobs' legs, shuffling about slightly and leaning over close enough so he could hear your whispers.

"You've never been able to hold back from me, what makes you think you can start now?"

A sly smirk crept up your face when you could see him biting the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from grinning, so you decided to push things just that little further, knowing it wouldn't take much more to get him to break. Putting all your weight on the balls of your feet, you slid yourself up him a bit more so you were sat straight on his groin and wiggled your lower half suggestively, which made him lightly groan and grab your hips firmly.

"Fine! Bloody tease. They're coming from further down the docks, there's a whole shipping container full of them, way more than we thought. Was tempted to take a look but I couldn't be bothered."

"That wasn't so hard now was it?" You chuckled as you pried his hands from around you so you could get up and tell Connor this information, then scowled when he silently imitated what you just said tauntingly.

Leaning around Connor so you could see at the blueprints he was looking at on the desk, you chewed at your bottom lip when you realised that this mission was not going to be as easy as you initially thought.

"Jacob said that there are more of those crates than we expected, It's gonna be hard to get them all."

"Did he now?" Evie grumbled, scoffing when she looked over to see him on the sofa half asleep.

"Well before I was interrupted earlier, I overheard when the deal is going to be made. We shall have to split into two groups to start, Henry will stay here on surveillance. You can take him with you to the warehouse, Connor and I will start at the docks, then make our way down to you."

Shrugging your shoulders when that was fine by you; actually preferring being paired with Jacob as you would both go off and do your own thing, you nodded when you saw she was still staring at you, waiting for an answer.

"Then it's sorted. Eight o'clock tomorrow night is when we will make our move."

[ivelostmyspectacles]

“Why are you here?”

Ignis holds up the bottle of wine. The liquid catches the sunlight, golden yellow on golden yellow, warms his hands where he has taken his gloves off, and he arches his eyebrows at Ravus. “Toasting a long journey, perhaps.”

Ravus’s eyes linger on the bottle of wine; it’s vintage, imported from Tenebrae. Noctis has acquired a taste for it, but he had given a bottle to Ignis with orders to take it to their mutual friend, and Ravus seems all the more surprised to see it offered.

“Brought on orders from the king of Lucis himself, even,” Ignis adds, and Ravus rolls his eyes as he gestures him in.

“He is well?”

“Very.”

Time, in some ways, has not changed Ravus. In others, it has changed him immensely. He has been a stalwart companion to their cause for the past ten years. Dare Ignis even say friend, after their complicated partnership in Altissia so long ago. There had been many nights spent in Tenebrae in the past ten years, huddled around the table with books and lore and Ravus, with varying degrees of frustration and elation.

Ignis’s mind latches onto one particularly bad night, when the long night had still been young and Ignis had been, too. His frustration had gotten the best of him. Ravus had merely looked at him and told him to “remember your calling” in the same, stern voice he had become used to. He remembers now, with mild self-consciousness, how the strain had gotten to him that night, and how over-emotional he had become. Ravus has, kindly, never reminded him of that day.

Their companionship has become comfortable over the years. Ignis is grateful for it.

He has never been one for drink. Social events only, and on messy days following Noctis going to the Crystal. A drink or three has him feeling pleasantly warm, buzzing beneath his skin. Ravus is still not one for idle conversation, but the silence is companionable. Even maybe too much so; Ignis thinks he might be dozing, right there on Ravus’s couch. His Kingsglaive coat has long been discarded over the back of it, and he’s slouching.

Ravus is sitting in the chair, half full glass of wine in one hand. One leg crossed over the other, and there’s now a folder of paperwork balanced on his knee. Ignis recognizes the look on his face as he stares at it; it’s a look Noctis would always get on his face when he had been forced to analyze reports back before he had come of age. Looking without seeing.

Ignis quirks a smile, splaying a hand against the sofa to straighten his spine.

“You are a poor drunk.”

Damn. He had mostly certainly been sleeping. “I am not drunk.” He argues without conviction, and then clears his throat. “Merely tipsy.”

For a moment, it seems like Ravus smirks at the comment. But then it looks like he’s making every effort to look absorbed in his work; he leans forward to read something, but his hair falls into his face, and that’s concentration shattered. He groans, under his breath, batting it out of his face.

“You could always tie it back, you know.”

“Capital idea.” A sigh, and Ravus leans back in the chair. “The dog chewed the ribbon. It seems I need to locate another.”

Ignis doesn’t know what prompts him to his feet and across the room to Ravus. Perhaps it’s the wine. He rests a hand on the back of Ravus’s chair. “May I?”

He turns his head, eyes wary as he looks at him over his shoulder. “May you what?”

Ignis’s laughter is warm, slightly uninhibited. “Have faith, Majesty,” he says, and reaches around to pull Ravus’s hair away from his face. “Have I ever done you wrong?”

“That is debatable.”

“I take offense.” He sweeps the long, silver strands back from his shoulders. Ravus is tense. He’s learned through the years that the man doesn’t necessarily like to be touched, and Ravus is hesitant any time anyone does. But Ignis has no desire to use the knowledge against him. He’s simply fixing his hair. “Is there a hairbrush nearby?”

“Don’t be asinine.”

He can remember those words. So many years ago, when they had both been desperate in their own ways. Racing to save Noct, fighting to avenge Lunafreya. Don’t be asinine, when asked if he would lend Noctis a helping hand. Ignis chuckles. That particular aversion has long since worn itself off.

Not much has changed. Ravus’s personality tends to err on the side of acerbic, seemingly cold. That had almost heightened, with his own ascension. But those closest to him know better. Especially Ignis.

Ravus has a kind heart. Like Noctis, he makes a fine king.

“Is something humorous?”

Ignis merely hums a reply; he figures Ravus knows exactly what, and Ignis won’t stoke the fire. They rarely talk about that day at all.

He may not have a hairbrush, but he accommodates by carefully combing his own fingers through Ravus’s hair. Gentle. Methodical. Taking care not to pull at a stray tangle here and there. Slowly, as if warily, Ravus relaxes beneath his touch.

It doesn’t take long to smooth it all out; his hair is soft and smooth and well kept. Ignis doesn’t return to the sofa yet, instead sets to separating the silver hair into three sections and continuing to work.

Ravus notices. “Ignis.” His head raises, and Ignis shifts his hands to accommodate.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Removing your hair from your face.” His fingers are quick and nimble, weaving each of the sections together. The repeated motions are relaxing, and somehow the earlier wine doesn’t affect them terribly.

The braid is finished quickly. It isn’t perfect, but it serves its purpose. He completes it organically and takes a moment to admire his handiwork.

Ravus, too, reaches up to run his fingers over the braid. “… You continue to surprise me,” he says, and drops his hand back to his paperwork. “You have my gratitude.”

“It’s not too tight?”

“No.”

“Good.” Ignis finally trails away from the chair, winding his way back to the sofa. He plans to collect his things and leave; the king of Tenebrae is busy, anyway, and there is no point to bother him further. “I should be off. It’s a long flight back to Lucis.”

“No.”

A simple command. It makes Ignis pause with his hand outstretched to pick up his jacket. “No?” He looks over his shoulder.

Ravus hasn’t even looked up. “We haven’t finished the bottle,” he says, and gestures with his glass.

“I’ve had my share,” Ignis says, and Ravus is having none of it.

“Sit.”

He gives him another dry glance, humor feeling alight in his eyes. He suspects that Ravus takes it in from the corner of his eye. And then, “is that an order?”

He is graced with what is assuredly a smirk. “An order from the king.”

“Well then.” Noctis won’t expect him back tonight, at any rate. He plucks his glass from the end table and fixes Ravus with an equally challenging look. “A top up, then,” he replies, and king and advisor will have a late night once again for the first time in ten years.

“This is, after all, meant to toast your king’s victory,” Ravus says, and sets his own glass aside to pick up the bottle for Ignis.

“Our king’s victory,” Ignis reminds as he pours.

Ravus seems to contemplate, finishes filling Ignis’s glass, and returns to his own. “Yes,” he agrees, and raises his glass.

[killian-whump]

Funko Fun for Lazy People

Hi everybody! Today’s randomly off topic post is about Funko Pops. There’s no real reason for it - I’m just bored and I like Funko Pops.

I’m also really lazy. Like, reeeeeally lazy. I’d love to make custom pops, but, you know, I’m lazy. So that totally prevents me from doing anything remotely crafty, time-consuming and skill-requiring like making customs.

Thankfully, I’m also not at all picky. As long as I look at something and think, “Hey, that could be so-and-so if I squint a little...” I’m good with it. I don’t need exact details or perfect matches, as long as the overall image resonates with me.

So if you’re like me (lazy and not too picky), there’s a lot of fun Pops out there that you can add to your Once Upon a Time Funko Pop collection without needing to customize anything...

For starters, given the nature of Funko Pops and their minimalist design, animated characters and live action characters end up looking the same. That means that any Pops of animated Disney characters can easily work for their live action OUAT counterparts, so long as they wore similar enough costumes at some point. Adding even just these Pops to your Once set will practically double your collection - and without the need for any customizing...

The Frozen crew: Thanks to Disney insisting that the Frozen characters wore perfect replicas of their iconic movie costumes in Once, the Funko Pops of all three of the main characters from the animated film are basically perfect for their Once versions, as well.

Jasmine and Aladdin: Once didn’t give them identical costumes to their animated counterparts, but they’re certainly close enough.

Some Other Folks: There’s a bunch of other animated Pops that can work perfectly for other characters, as well. Merida, Cinderella (S1) and Rapunzel (S7) all have animated pops that could easily work for their OUAT counterparts, who wore costumes close enough to what’s shown here. (It also needs mentioning that Funko did release some Cruella De Vil Pops that would easily work for Once’s Cruella, but they are extremely expensive (as Pops go) and not really recommended, as you might as well buy a custom at that price.)

Unfortunately, not all matches are quite as good. This is really where your own level of pickiness comes into play. Can you handle things being a little (or a lot) off as long as the overall idea fits the Once character? If so, these next ones might make your Once collection even bigger yet...

Belle in the Iconic Yellow Dress: Technically, you can go with either the animated movie Pop or the live action movie Pop. They’re pretty much equally accurate/wrong in their own ways, so it’s really just a judgement call of which one of them meshes with your own mental image of our Belle in this dress.

Ariel: Really, none of these fit as well as we’d like. The mermaid Ariel is the closest match, as she DOES appear in the show in the iconic purple bikini top with her fin (albeit a fin that has more blue in it than this one does). However, the mermaid Ariel is very noticeably an older Pop, meaning it’s likely to stand out as “not belonging” in your Once collection. The other two Ariel Pops’ outfits weren’t recreated by the show, though she DOES wear a pink dress in a ballroom scene, even though it’s a much, much paler shade of pink.

Tiana: Mind you, Tiana hasn’t worn either of these dresses yet, but there’s still half a season to go, and it would be a damn shame if they didn’t recreate her beautiful lily pad dress on the show. Also, with these Pops and Ariel’s, as well, when a character wears enough of a variety of dresses/outfits on the show, it becomes a little less important to perfectly match any one specific outfit. At least, that’s my opinion. For example, a Pop of Mayor Regina could really be wearing any stylish skirt/pant suit and It’d seem “right” to me, regardless of whether it was a specific skirt/pant suit she’d worn on the show. With that in mind, really, Tiana and Ariel could both be suitable.

...and that brings us to the really fun part. Have you ever looked at a Pop and thought, “Ah! They made one of [insert thing here]!” only to find out it was of something else entirely and not that thing you thought it was at all? Well, that happens a lot, and while it’s rare to have one truly work for something other than its intended source, there are some totally unrelated Pops out there that could easily pass for a Once character. Keep in mind, the “fit” will always seem better if you’re not familiar with the intended source character. Your mind will obviously jump to form the intended connection if you’re familiar with who the Pop is meant to be. But if you’re not, then some of these might work for you...

Battlestar Galactica’s Six as Pilot Episode Emma: Luscious blonde curls, slinky red (okay, it was pink, but a lot of people remember it as red) dress, black heels. This pop could very easily represent Emma from the OUAT pilot.

Princess Diana (Chase Version) as ‘Princess Leia’ Emma: Dramatic red off-the-shoulder dress, upswept blonde hair, crown. The details are a bit off, and this is a Chase version, which will make it harder and/or more expensive to get... but short of getting a custom, you couldn’t ask for a better match.

Miss Peregrine’s Jacob Portman as Henry Mills (S7): While Henry’s Enchanted Forest outfit would make a better Pop for most folks, this is undeniably a pretty good match for the casual, laid-back style Henry exhibits in Hyperion Heights, as well as a nice call back to the button-down shirts and jackets young Henry was often seen wearing in the first 6 seasons of the show. Incidentally, this Pop could also work for a clean-shaven Colin O’Donoghue - complete with brown shoes, blue jeans, button down shirt... and grand-dad sweater ;) Your call, really!

Parks & Recreation’s April Ludgate as Ivy Belfry: Yes, the outfit isn’t one Ivy’s actually worn, but Ivy’s consistently in short skirts and trendy separates, so the outfit looks like something she would wear - and the hair and coffee are on point. It feels like a good fit to me, at least ;)

Tim Burton’s Alice as Robin Mills & Alice Jones: Both of the Pops above are intended to be of Alice herself, from Tim Burton’s Through the Looking Glass and Alice in Wonderland, but the clothing and hair styles just speak to me of being perfect for OUAT’s Robin and Alice. We haven’t really seen enough of Robin to fully determine her style yet, but this pop seems fitting. And while Alice’s outfit doesn’t match anything she’s worn yet, it feels like a great mix of Alice Jones’ eclectic personal style melded with the iconic blue pinafore of the Wonderland character.

Elena of Avalor’s Isabel as Lucy Mills: This Pop gives me major vibes of 8-year-old Lucy in the Enchanted Forest. You could even print out a tiny cover of the Once Upon a Time storybook and glue it on the book/box she’s holding.

Some Disassembly Required: Here we have Ash vs. Evil Dead’s Kelly on the left and Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s Giles on the right. However, if you were to remove the objects they’re holding... You could just as easily be looking at Roni and Archie Hopper. In fact, picture that Kelly Pop with a fricking baseball bat. Are you seeing it yet? Are you? Depending on how good you are with an Xacto Knife, you could probably do something with these two... or maybe they just got new weapons/hobbies? Whatever works for you.

Well... That’s that. I’m always keeping my eyes open for more, so I might add some later on if they release some more contenders... but for now, this is all I’ve found! Let me know if there’s any you’ve found, too!

[ihal9000]

Lucy; Chapter 1

The Sun Is Too Bright

“Hush” 

Says the sunset, sinking over the mountain 

The dry air seems more alive than me

There is no fog in the desert 

But somewhere I can feel it

“Say something” 

Says the sunrise through the fog

Morning dew gathering on grass and graves

Colors dull in the hazy morning air

Unaware 

of what has been lost

    I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how I got here, and I don’t know where I am. I can feel my heart beating a mile a minute, but it’s distant like an anxiety attack that you haven’t noticed yet. Everything is warm and fuzzy, but my fingers are cold. They feel far away like they belong to someone else. 

   The details of my surroundings won’t come into focus. I’m outside, it’s sunset, and I’m standing up. I think. There are pins and needles in my legs, but it’s distant and I’m too tired to care. I’m so tired. My eyelids are somehow defying gravity. I sway to the side, but I don’t move. I’m standing between reality and something else. I want to be scared. I want to be terrified and kick and scream for help, but my mind won’t let me, and my body is frozen in time. 

   Where am I? I ask myself. Focus. Focus. Focus.

   The blurry picture in front of me starts to focus like a camera lens. Sand. Am I on a beach? I don’t hear waves. I don’t smell water. The air is warm and clear. I can see the outline of mountains in the distance. There are Two distinct peaks with a bunch of smaller ones off to the side. Sun beams are streaking across the ocean of gold hitting me in my eyes. A desert, probably.

   How did I get in a desert? Why can’t I move? Did someone drug me and dump me out here? Who would do that? 

   My thoughts are starting to come back. 

   What’s the last thing I remember? Think. 

   Flashing lights appear before my eyes. I think it’s dark, and I think I’m outside somewhere in a city. I can hear a woman yelling. The sound of rushing air, wind maybe, drowns her out. A train is passing by in the distance. It’s more of a collection of snapshots than a memory. I don’t even know how long ago that was. That could have been days or weeks or years ago. 

   There’s a weight in my chest, and the cold in my fingers creeps up my arms. It’s getting harder to breathe. It’s like I’m being buried alive. This is not normal. This can’t be okay. I get a rush of adrenaline and I try to move, but I’m paralyzed. My eyes go out of focus and I sway to the side again without moving. 

   Beside me I hear something. It sounds like someone crying. They’re out of my field of vision. I try to turn around only to remember that I can’t. 

  “Hello?” I ask. 

   No reply. 

   It makes no sense that I can move my mouth. Maybe my poor drugged brain has convinced itself that I can’t move. 

   “Are you hurt?” I ask. “Do you know where we are?” 

   No reply. I wait a few seconds just to make sure. 

   “Are you paralyzed, too? Can you not talk?” 

   Still no reply. Okay then. Maybe they’re just scared. Oh, god, what if it’s a kid. 

   “Hey, do you see that sunset?... It’s one of the best I’ve ever seen.” I’m doing my best to try to comfort or distract them or I don’t know, but I need to get them to stop crying because I can’t handle a crying person and be drugged and hysterical at the same time. My heart beat is slowing down and it’s becoming easier to breathe. My eyes focus, and the world stops spinning. I guess, having someone to take care of is forcing me to focus, or at least I hope that’s what it is. 

   “So…what’s your name?” I wait a few seconds and there’s no reply. 

“My name is…” I trail off when I realize that I don’t know. I don’t remember my own name. If I don’t know my name, then what else have I forgotten? I look back at my life and try to think of something, anything that could lead me to who I am. I realize that the only thing I can remember is bits and pieces. Snapshots of people and landscapes, voices, sounds, smells. That’s it. I don’t even know how old I am. 

  “Huh.” I say. Whoever is behind me is already scared. I don’t want to make this worse. “Well, it seems that I can’t really remember right now, but it’ll come back when this wears off.” I’m not entirely sure about that, but pretending I know what I’m doing helps. 

   The cold is creeping up my legs now. It doesn’t hurt. It’s more like a far away, chilly numbness than a block of ice. It’s weird and I should be terrified that it’s closing in on my chest and head, but all I feel is calm. 

   The sunset is so pretty. A light baby blue fades into pinks and purples that fade into yellows and oranges and reds all framed in cotton candy clouds that are strange for this climate. In the center of it all the sun is an orange-ish red fruit, melting it’s sweetness over the mountains and the metalic, shimmering sand dunes, calling for someone to reach out and pick it from the sky. 

   “Hey, are you still there?” I asked, distracted. 

   They probably didn't hear me. I’m focused on the image in front of me. The beauty of it all. I can imagine the best painter to ever exist brushing this across the sky’s canvas with all the colors to ever exist, the paint dripping, trying to capture this scene so one day someone would see it and feel something. I try to take a step toward it. I can’t. I try to reach out. And… I think I felt my finger twitch. 

   “Yes!” I shout. That’s it, baby steps. Closing my eyes, I focus on the fingers of my left hand. 

   “Baby steps,” I say, “baby steps.” 

   An electrical shock jerks my entire body backward. The warm, fuzzy pins and needles come rushing back, and the cold is all but gone. I’m back in the hazy dream state and the world is spinning into oblivion. Everything around me goes dark and now all I can see is the burning red sun. 

   The crying beside me is louder and more intense now. I try to reassure them, but they start to speak. It’s a woman’s voice. Something about it is so familiar, but I can’t place it. I recognize her.

   “Please come back.” She says. The pure grief and pain in her voice makes me feel sick. I know her; I’m sure of it. Why can’t I remember her? 

   “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” I try to say, but another voice cuts in from my left.

   “I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.” 

   Who is that? What are they sorry about? Now I’m really losing it. I try again to wiggle my fingers. More frantically this time. I scream, but it’s like they can’t hear me pleading with them. It’s not going to work is it? Am I dying? 

   “Time of death is-” the voice to my left starts to say. The voices are getting further away and the cold is creeping back up my arms. 

   “No!” I say. “I’m not dead; I’m right here! Bring me back!” The voices don’t answer, but I have to try. I have to make them hear me. 

   “I’m not ready to die. Not yet.” The bottom of the sun hits the top of the mountain and bathes the landscape in orange. 

   “Please come back. Please come back.” The woman’s crying is growing further and further away. She says something that I can’t quite make out, but it sounds like a name. Maybe it’s my name. She says it again, but she sounds like she’s under water. 

   I sway to the side, and this time I fall into the sand. The pins and needles disappear and everything is cold. I jump up turning around, flecks of gold flying with my panic and dread. There’s no one there. The voices shrink to whispers and whispers shrink to silence, and all that’s left is me, the sunset, and silence. 

   I’m alone. 

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

This is the first chapter of Lucy in the Afterlife with Dante (working title.) I wrote this a couple of years ago, but the ideas for where this story could go keep on coming. By now I’ve already fallen in love with all of the characters, and know their entire life’s stories up until the beginning of the book. Hopefully this blog will help me add a bit of structure and realness to the story, so I can broadcast it to the multiverse. 

Thanks for tuning in this week, 

hal. 

[chikkachu]

Mahrid

A/N: I’m so sorry this is very late for the mythical creature’s event. Anyway @nalu-nerd13 Surprise! I’m your partner. I hope you find this worth the wait. I don’t know what this turned out being but here it is anyway haha 

Let me know if you guys like this world and I’ll actually try my luck at a multi-chapter (plus, I love to talk you all 😉). Also if anyone knows Arabic or a lot about Arabian mythology please get in touch with as I’d love to talk to you :D 

I made a little mood board for this one which you can see here ---> Link

Please check out my writing master post if you want to read my other stories and the links to my ff.net & AO3 are there as well ---> Link

The quote in the summary is Oscar Wilde ;) 

Songspiration:

You’re… Immortal? - Marcin Przybyłowicz

Mystery Man - Marcin Przybyłowicz

-x-

Summary

“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden itself.” Lucy was about to find out this rang true when her true identity started to reveal itself. NaLu.  

-x-

She felt nothing.

Darkness surrounded her, flickers of white formless hands clawed at her sub-conscious, coaxing her forward. To call her current state an abyss would be inaccurate, it was more a vacuum. The white ethereal energy sunk heavily into her skin, as it did so, her blindness seemed to lift. Heavy eyelids lifting, swirling with what seemed like grey mist crawled along rugged, thirsty land.

Bitter cold nipped at her nerves. Bone deep exhaustion tumbled into her spaced out mind, her fingers dug, trying to find a perch on the barren terrain. Questions of why it was so cold in the desert briefly crossing her mind. From her paralysed state on the ground, she notices large fissures forming in the sky, their colour a blinding white. Grey fog started to whirl becoming the deep black of burning material.

Perspiration dotted her skin, sub-zero temperatures morphing into unforgiving heat.

Trying to breathe, she felt her diaphragm spasm as she attempted to inhale. The air was thick with smoke, her lungs burned as tar polluted the air. Coating her airways, coughing and breath sounding a staccato as she struggled for her breath. Needles prickling under her skin as she started to suffocate. Blind and unable to breathe Lucy tried to yell, why wasn't anyone helping her?

Pricking turned to a stabbing pain, gasping she felt her body numb. Fear filling her as her body was dragged across the floor. Groaning, Lucy felt her muscle spasm as her wrists and ankles felt like they were being crushed into the ground.

The pressure in her lungs released and she spluttered as the air filled her lungs. Strange. Thick liquid coated her chest, dripping down her sides. Confusion consumed her, why were her senses no longer being attacked? Dropping her head to the side, still, she could see nothing but swirling smoke.

Cracked, barren earth offered no comfort as she shifted, sharp gravel digging into her back. Bringing an elbow up to support her body weight, core muscles still sore from earlier spasms, she looked down. It felt as if corrosive acid was eating at her skin, the burning unbearable.

Her chest cavity was gaping, congealed blood-forming thick globules around the wound situated above her heart. Ripping her hands from the ground she clutched the saturated fabric, a scream forming in her throat. A piercing noise rattled her ears, relentless and loud. She feared her eardrum would rupture. Hands stained crimson clutched over her lobes in a desperate attempt to stop the damage.

Then she felt translucent hands once again pull at her psyche, this time ripping her from her surroundings.

"Lucy!"

Her eyelids felt like lead as she tried to respond to the call. This wasn't the first time she had been pulled into vivid daydreams. If you could call it that, the event felt real, every pain, every emotion was hers. Coming to her body always felt clammy, as if the stifling heat had evolved into a fever. Lucy scrunched her face as she felt a damp cloth blot underneath her ear.

"Lucy?" Recognising the chirpy tone of her best friend, she slowly opened her eyes. Her vision distorted and blurred as her pupils adjusted to the light.

"Thank the heavens you're okay," Making out blue hair and Levy's signature yellow ribbon. Lucy welcomed the additional weight, arms enveloping her in a hug.

"I don't know about okay." She wasn't. Lucy tucked a blond tress behind her ear, cringing when feeling the sweat clinging to her forehead. Sitting up Lucy felt the cushions of Levi's lush sofa cave under her weight. Truly the thing was too comfortable and undoubtedly the reason she had fallen asleep during their meditation session.

"What happened to you?" Levy asked, plopping down at her side and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know. It's happened before." Flashbacks of falling from her bed, or getting injuries from her dreams frightened her. Especially how her ears rang, as they are now, from the cry that tore her from the world.

"What? And you didn't say anything before we started?"

"It's only occurred at night before. I thought they were dreams." Lucy shrugged, nightmares were normal. She wasn't the type to make others worry about something trivial.

"Your eyes were open Lucy. Your sclera morphed, I could see outlines." That didn't sound good. In fact, the thought was starting to creep her out.

"Outlines?" She asked.

"Yes." Levy nodded, clapping her hands together standing abruptly, "Which reminded me of something I read a while back."

Scuttling into her bedroom, Levi returned minutes later with a tome that Lucy suspected would kill someone if you dropped it on their head. If the impact didn't kill them then the centuries worth of dirt caked onto the cover would.

"That looks like it's about to turn into dust," Lucy said, observing the state of said object. The tatty state of the leather binding the pages belied the golden plated spine.

E.N.D the letters were barely discernible, age eroding at the ink.

"That would be because it's old as dirt," Levy quipped, holding the book proudly, "I borrowed it from the Asmodeus Library at the college."

"Borrowed?" Lucy's mouth dropped open, " Levy, you're not allowed to take books out of there."

Honestly, her best friend never failed to surprise her with boundless temerity.

"As I said, a short loan they may not know about currently." Her best friend shrugged, "I've had it for 3 months so they obviously don't miss it." She dropped the tome onto the solid oak coffee table in front of them. The resulting dust cloud causing them both to cough.

"Three months!" Lucy didn't want to think about the overdue fines that would have incurred if the book was loaned out officially.

"Which isn't important Lu-chan." Levy wagged her finger in the familiar way Lucy had come to associate as her 'this is serious' gesture. "What is important is the name of the library."

"Levy, I don't know what you're talking about."

"The library is named after the first Djinn to rule over the modern world," Levy said, flicking the cover over revealed mottled pages, time staining the paper a sepia tone.

"And why would I care about Djinn?" Lucy asked, wondering the reason for the random mention, she sat forward to listen, "Djinn haven't been documented for thousands of years, even the scribes believe they are beings of pure myth."

"Since when has magic been about what we can and can't see? Besides those old crusties are set in their ways." Levy's scolding look said all Lucy needed to know, she should shut up and listen. History was her friend's forte, especially magical history. The girl's apartment was filled with weird and wonderful artefacts and a collection tacky merlin fridge magnets. Lucy didn't share her opinion on those for fear of her friends resulting conniption.

"Hey! I want to be a scribe." Lucy argues the fact they are all old crusties. Because she certainly wasn't.

"Lu-chan you are so much more than that. Which is the point I am getting to if you would stop interrupting me." Shushing her once again Levy opened the book to a certain page, with an accuracy that hinted this book was her latest project. If there were secrets to be found, Levy was on a mission to reveal them.

"Anyway, I did some research into this Asmodeus and he was the first djinn to break free from Alhalqa which translates directly to 'the ring'." Picking up a pair of glasses from the side, Lucy recognised them as seeing glasses. They were useful for reading quickly and translating all languages to the user's mother tongue.

"I still don't see why this is relevant to me."

"Alhalqa are rings made of blessed copper and iron, made to enslave the Djinn or as we know it a genie." Levy continued, explaining melted metals are manmade, their properties are forcefully changed. The metals deviated from nature and therefore have an adverse effect on beings that are intrinsically tied to the earth and magic.

Djinn were powerful beings and their magic reduced significantly in its presence, direct contact with their skin makes magic use potentially lethal i.e they can no longer use it limitlessly. Making them easier to control, but by no means helpless.

The sorcerers of old used to capture them as a living magic source. One that didn't require recharging and could cast catastrophic magic they would be unable to cast otherwise.

"To stop the ruthless greed for power of humans, Asmodeus cast a spell that sacrificed his body. His body became a gate, his blood the key and placed a curse on the earth that prevented humans having access to Eden." Eden, the dimension of paradise, a place of endless magic and unimaginable beauty. Lucy had heard many pipe dreams of discovery in the literature. She wasn't as enthused to come across it, as life had taught her; if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was.

What was the price of existing in such a place?

"I still don't know why this is relevant to me Levy?" Lucy asked, brain swirling with the information.

"This book is called the book of E.N.D and it is written in the ancient tongue or as some like to call it the language of angels."

"E.N.D? Sounds like your typical Indiana Jones artefact."

"To be honest that's not far off. Even some of the most talented tribes across the colleges' history have been unable to crack the code in this book" Face lighting up, Levy placed the book in Lucy's lap pointing to the foreign symbols that seemed to meld together, the harder she looked the blurrier it became.

"Code?" She asked.

"Yes. Knowing the ancient language isn't enough with this baby." That didn't matter to Levy, she had a talent for runes and hieroglyphs. "I managed to find out the Djinn live like the humans but they thrive in the alternate dimension and only crossed over to feed. They fed off our spirit but in return the kept the managed the cycles. I haven't managed to discover exactly what these cycles are."

"Levy." Lucy prompted her with her name, beginning to get interested.

"Okay, Okay. I just wanted to let you know if this wasn't my latest project. You wouldn't have a clue about what's been happening to you."

"Fine. I see your point."

"Good." Levi stated, diving straight back into her flow, "Another thing I found out is the djinn have a hierarchal society. The more power, the higher your status and the power is known from birth. All djinn are born in Alnnar Alhariqa which translates to 'the scorching fire'. It burns with the djinns sihr, their colour. Lucy your eyes went white but blue runes glowed on your skin whilst you were 'dreaming'." She tapped underneath her eye indicating the entire socket, "It was faint but it was there."

"Runes are branded by Alnnar Alhariqa," Levy sighed, lips pursing in frustration, "I can feel the magic pulsing within the book when I try to decipher as if the book is alive and choosing what it wants me to know."

"So, you're saying I might be a genie…" Lucy said the words slowly hoping it would make sense voicing them aloud.

"Basically. You've always been a gifted witch Lu-chan"

"That was down to hard work and studying, not because I'm this thing."

"There's always been something too natural about how fast you learn magic when you cast spells; the ethernano dances with you, not against you." It was true during spell combat training classes she had to rein in her spells, where others struggled to gather enough. Powerful spells had a rebound that wasn't pleasant, yet her instinct was to push, let the magic consume her, to yield.

Another reason was the magical community wasn't as accepting of abnormality as many would assume. Lucy didn't want to become a scholar's lab rat, to be examined and caged for the rest of her life. The only people who knew were those who had proven themselves trustworthy. Levy proved that ten times over when her life went to shot.

"Isn't that normal?"

"No, it's not. Most witches must concentrate to stop spells overwhelming them. Not with you."

"What am I supposed to do now?" As she said it, Lucy remembered her father had never allowed her to travel outside the city after her sixteenth birthday. She remembered that day clearly. Jude had been distant. In fact, he had been outright cruel, proceeding to take away everything that made her solitary life bearable. Her mother's pond was filled in, the statue of the water bearer smashed to pieces.

Aquarius.

Childhood memories of dancing running around in the serene waters with her mother, crumbled along with cold marble. Confined to her room, left feeling barren and akin to a prison when her furniture was removed. All traces of her mother being removed and replaced at a rapid pace.

Something a lonely child would perceive as normal for controlling parent, now it seemed like panic.

Asking her father should be easy enough if it wasn't for the fact he died of a heart attack last year. Very mortal and very human until his last breath. She knew going home was the best chance of finding answers. Even if the place was full of memories she'd rather stay in recesses of her mind.

Nostalgia filled her as she looked at her old home, desolate of life. Remembering a time of servants and merchants going about their day, at her father's behest. The rattle of old carriages on cobbled paths and the clopping of hooves as they made their way from the port, filled with souvenirs collected from all corners of the earth.

She loved to sit on the sea wall, listening to the waves break beneath her feet, sea birds calling from their nests atop the dainty harbour roofs.

Seaside cottages painted a vibrant white were now a smudged grey from years of neglect. The villagers that used to live on their land had long since deserted the village. Despite his faults, her father was a brilliant business man, his ingenuity keeping the place alive and thriving. As for Lucy, too many painful memories surrounded her hometown to consider staying here. So, she left and with no one to run the company, people left to find work and prosperity elsewhere.

Trekking her way up the steep path to the mansion, in her mind's eye, she could see the tradesmen who called out in greeting. The young master's little miss Lucy, who would smile happily from her mother's side as they browsed the shops for new interesting things to fill their home. Her mother used to buy her a book every week from a second-hand bookshop at the seafront.

Books that told the story of long-forgotten events and tales of mystery and adventure. Stories she couldn't wait for her mother to read to her at bedtime and as she got older, to read herself. Their home sat at the top of the village, obvious in its grandeur above the humble sloping rooftops.

A home that became a place to sleep in after her mother's death.

Passing through the wrought iron gates wasn't an easy task. Lucy found herself arguing with the rusted lock, almost cutting her palm as she forced it open. The scrapping of iron against brickwork echoed into village behind her, it's empty ricochet sending a shiver of mourning through her body. Squeezing her body into the garden she looked upon the place that might hold the answers to where she came from. The fountain she had fondly remembered stood outside the entrance, the stone still beautiful, setting it apart from the unkempt grounds surrounding it.

Gravel crunched under her weight as she carefully avoided overgrown bushes. Branches that once belonged to the topiary her mother has painstakingly sculpted jutted out into the path. As she neared the fountain she noticed the smell of stagnant water, moss and dead leaves coating the surface. Thankfully the stone was holding firm, no cracks marring the structure, albeit she could see dirt that clung to its side courtesy of the sea air, escalating the erosion of stone without the proper maintenance. She didn't notice that it was no longer the mess she had left it in. The past forefront in her mind.

Finding a purchase on the wall, Lucy sat on its ledge, like she used to as a child, laying her legs out flat and resting her back against a pillar. Grime stopped bothering Lucy when her life had taken a sad turn, showing her there were more important things to worry about than dirty clothes. Clothes could be washed anew. Loved ones, however, could not be brought back. No matter how many times she prayed. Thoughts of sitting at her mother's bedside surfaced, of gripping her hand desperately as if the touch would keep her on this plain.

Ashen skin looking dull against her porcelain glow, sores and tears covered her body, her eyes sunken life no longer dancing in their depths as she stared at the ceiling. Layla Heartfilia had stopped acknowledging people a long time ago, her vegetative state exhibiting no movement or recognition, for her husband or her beloved daughter. The moment Layla became sick her father changed, withdrawing from the world. An almost resentful look on his face in the rare moments he visited.

Lucy read her stories, called her name, held her hand and sang their favourite songs. Nothing worked. One day as she lay curled into her mama's side, telling her about her tutoring session, she heard a gurgle. Excitement filled her. Jumping off the bed she fetched a glass of water, placing it to her lips waiting for her to respond. She never did. Later in life, she realised it wasn't a gargle but a death rattle.

Lucy never found out what killed her, none of the medicine books she had read described the symptoms exactly. And her father refused to talk about it, keeping the knowledge with him in death.

Dipping her fingertips into the water, ripples from her touch cleared a patch of moss and shrubbery, allowing her to see the mirrored tones of twilight.

Paying attention, she could see blood orange accompanied by daffodil yellow. The water was stagnant, it shouldn't be clear, but murky and diluted. Glancing over the rest of the water she noticed it had changed to a clear state, algae now a neon periwinkle blue creating intricate swirls. It was breath-taking, the blue lights were little stars at dusk.

She could lean in and feel like she was touching the milky way, a single moment of her imagination taking her to an abyss. Where she could reach and the stars would reach back. Looking down, blue tribal marks started forming on her skin glowing in tandem with the algae. Sharply inhaling Lucy traced the bevelled lines following her arm upwards. Her feet poking out from under her skirt had the same pattern. Her eyes glanced back at her from the water, an eerie glowing white.

Leaning closer she saw the raised flesh around her eye, taking the form of speckles in an intricate mosaic, reminding her of Venetian masks. Shimmering and rippling, Lucy watched in amazement as her reflection started moving. A hand that should have stayed on the ledge was placed against the surface. As if it were a barrier.

Jerking backwards, the action causing her to slip and fall. Closing her eyes, she waited for the impact of the hitting a shallow bottom. It never came. Opening her eyes, she found herself floating in an expanse of water, vast and seemingly infinite. Panicking she spun around, throwing her body upward, holding her breath.

Looking up she could see the wall, ignoring the cold settling into her bones and making her body ache she tried to propel herself upwards. Instead of grabbing onto the side, she hit a barrier. An invisible force was stopping her from breaking through, forcing her back with a blast of magical energy. Pain threaded through her nerves, accompanied by a pounding headache said she was in trouble.

Swimming forward, she tried to free herself from whatever enchantment has been placed on the fountain. It was futile. The second blast draining her remaining strength. Darkness swallowed the world around her and she felt it latch onto her spirit, tearing it piece by piece from her body. Unable to move she watched as her soul was syphoned. Lucy had spent years of studying and she had never come across black magic of this magnitude. An enchantment that drained life. This wasn't witchcraft, it was sorcery.

Chattering birds, a light breeze caressing her cheek, and the sound of crickets in the height of summer permeated the silence of her mind. Coming too she realised, her body felt sticky in the humid air. The weight holding her in the darkness lifted, enabling her to bring her knees up, feeling lush grass under her soles.

Toes curling for better grip, Lucy pulled herself using her core muscles, folding her arms. Taking in her surroundings, Lucy noticed the bold colours that adorned the plant life, irises the size of which she had never seen grew at the bases of towering evergreens. Standing on shaky legs, she gritted her teeth as she felt needles pricking her skin. Walking forward, the jewellery adorning her attire jingling with each step.

Expanding her aura outward she tried to get a scope of the enchantments holding her in this world. It was powerful magic, to construct an entire plane of existence. To alter those who enter its realm, changing her attire was a feat she couldn't even contemplate, the cost to caster would be extreme.

The biggest question was the reason and she didn't anticipate a good one.

Unfortunately, breaking the enchantment required the know-how and as users of dark magic didn't want their hard work being undone. Figuring out the clues wouldn't be an easy task. Lucy hoped her natural lady luck would aid the process.

Smoke rising above the forest canopy was the first spate of fortune after hours of aimless wandering.

Smoke meant a fire and a controlled fire indicated life.

Seeing someone was better than being alone. Rushing in the same direction, keeping her eye on the smoke rising up to the red hues of the sky. If the bold and vivacious colours of the world didn't tell her she was far from home, the rose ether confirmed it. Undergrowth dug into her bare feet as she ran, her chiffon and cotton rags tangling in her legs.

The forest density increased as she progressed, it shouldn't be possible for them to have a will of their own, but Lucy could have sworn that was the case. Her foot snagged on what felt like root before her body catapulted upwards, hitting her head on a branch before falling. Snare tightening painfully around her foot as it stopped her hitting the ground, leaving her swinging. Lucy cursed as she felt her ankle pop, surmising the impact must have left her with a nasty sprain or fracture.

After hanging for a moment Lucy curled her body upward to try and grab the rope. The nerves in her ankle protesting extra pressure, shooting a warning signal straight up her leg and spine. Shuddering Lucy whimpered giving in momentarily, trying desperately to focus on something else and not the sensation wracking her system.

"I wouldn't do that."

Not expecting company Lucy jumped, twisting her body to the source. Yelping as her injury throbbed with vigour.

"What are you doing?" Irritation sparked from the stupid question.

"What does it look like?" She shot back, catching sight of the stranger for the first time.

Shock filled her as she took in a tall man, wearing a tatty black cloak, a hood covering their head and a white scarf was looped around broad shoulders.

"Hmph," Snarling with a tenor deep and rumbling, Lucy had to double take. Humans didn't have that kind of vocal capability. At that realisation, she could feel her heart rate increase.

What exactly was she looking at?

"Finally, a fitting reaction. Human." Spitting the word out, as though it was vulgar, she could hear accusation in his tone.

"What's your problem?" She asked, annoyed at his attitude and the fact he hadn't released her. The pain not helping with having no filter between her brain and mouth. At the back of her mind, she did register that strangely she had no fear of the being standing in front of her.

"You."

"Look, can you just let me down?" Scoffing, he brought his hand up and clicked his finger. Screeching Lucy barely had time to protect her head as she unceremoniously hit the floor when the rope disappeared. Snickering had her careening her head to the right, seeing his shoulders shaking in mirth.

"You look like a weirdo."

"No thanks to you!" Outrage filled her voice, her ire seemed to encourage him as chuckling turned to laughter.

"That face is an improvement, perhaps more humans should be captured like game. Then you wouldn't be so ugly." His sneer was unmistakable and she didn't need to see his face to know he was smirking.

"I am not ugly!"

"Not on the outside." He conceded but it wasn't the victory Lucy wanted.

"You are so rude."

"To those who deserve it" His reply was flippant, the way his body stiffened said he meant it.

"How do I deserve it?" She asked, rising to her feet trying to keep weight off her injury, "I was sitting in my garden minding my own business and now I'm here, talking to a jerk."

Huffing, he turned stomping off. Lucy attributed his body language to that of a child, his knees raising unnecessarily high and large hands cupping the back of his head. She didn't want to be left behind, she had been raised in a town and consequently had no idea how to survive in the wilderness. Numerous beasts could be waiting to kill her. Resolute in her decision, Lucy sprung forward in a burst of bravery. Hearing movement he turned as she tackled him, sending them plummeting to the ground.

Hearing an exasperated sigh fingers bit into the skin of her shoulders, a little too hard, as he tried to disentangle her from his person. Warmth spread rapidly through her system as though she submerged herself into a hot spring, her body absorbing his aura without question. Investigating where he gripped her shoulders, there were tribal looking marks similar to the patterns now emerging on her skin.

Red started to bleed into blue and recognition from an unknown source filled her, feeling her own spirit rise to interlace with his. Glancing up amazement etched on her face she went to question this new turn of events. His face neither pleased or inquisitive was fixed on the ground beside them. Lucy noticed her bag had opened its contents over the earth, including the book that Levi had lent her.

Initial shock over Lucy observed the man below her, his skin glowing akin to her own, however, his marking appeared to be aggressive in their symbology, engraved into his skin with energy that promoted power. As their auras moulded, she could feel his age and power in the marrow of her bones. In her years of study and practice, never had she met a being that held such vast energy.

Amber eyes narrowed into slits, the colour morphing between shades in his heightened state of anger. Briefly, she noted the shocking shade of pink crowning his angular face, accompanied by the nose of someone who had seen plenty of hand-to-hand combat. A look that was common of the young men joining gangs in the city. Judging by the solid mass of muscle that made up the man, he was no casual street fighter.

The glint in his eyes was that of an animal assessing its prey.

"Wha-!"

For the second time, Lucy found herself being flung back. Residue energy from his attack clung felt like lead on her psyche, magic was, of course, both physical and ethereal. Healing magic soothed mentally and bodily, similarly attacking damaged both. As quickly as he flung her back, he was out of sight.

"I-I know you're still there." Air head with magic power, its potency creating intense humidity.

Silk clung to her skin as her body struggled to adapt to the heady atmosphere. Her aura shimmering around her as it reacted to the foreign presence. Bubbling noises caught her attention, to her astonishment earth and trees started to smoulder, scorching holes opened in solid rock in seconds. Hot steam rising, the climate now akin to a natural sauna as it superheated the moisture in the air making it hard to breathe. Flashbacks to her visions, the choking, of dying, made panic rear its head.

What was this place?

Everything seemed to be void of life, barren just like her dream but this time she was conscious.

Red smoke started to wisp around her legs, crawling up her skin feeling like the patter of a thousand insects marching up her body. Despite having no experience with magic mutated to this extent, it didn't take much to figure out hostile intent. When casting a spell her body floated, blissful and at peace with the surrounding energy, a hug from the powers that be. The power surrounding her now was anything but friendly, malevolence imbued into its makeup.

"Alkhawna." A growl that tickled her ear, rasping, filled with bitter anger. Rage accumulated over aeons, longer than she could comprehend, mutated a husky tenor into a snarl.

"I don't know what you're saying"

"Kathaab," He said, she felt his mass against her back, hand applying pressure against her throat "You expect me to believe you don't know your own tongue."

"I wasn't raised as...djinn." Swallowing, the pressure of his hand not making it an easy task. Adrenaline pounding through her system as she desperately tried to think of a solution. There was no way she could overpower him; her best hope was the fact he hadn't killed her yet.

"Kathaab!"

"I told you I don't know what that means." And she didn't, however, Lucy was aware of the way nature seemed to respond to the language, magic palpating and vibrating as the sound rolled off his tongue.

"Liar."

"I am not a liar."

"You come here as her and you expect me to believe that." The mention of this her was spat from his tongue like poisoned blood. Pain and betrayal apparent, old memories loosening his grip but still it wasn't enough for her to break free.

"I still don't know what you're talking about," She said, trying a different approach with a soft tone. Hoping to appeal to kinder emotions in the man behind her. He was quiet, seconds ticked by and Lucy noticed his magic started to simmer down into a tolerable warmth once more.

"Zahri."

"What?"

"You are blue blood, Mahrid." He stated, the guy was full of confusing statements with no explanation. "Did they send you? Is their fucked-up game now?" And they were back to the anger. As for being Mahrid, Levy did mention something about the djinn were divided by a hierarchy.

"No one has sent me, I just," Exasperation laced her tone, what did she have to do for him to get the hint, "ended up here."

"You don't 'end up here'. This dimension was made for me, imprisons me." Releasing his grip, Lucy found herself being spun around to meet stunning eyes, the colour of the evergreens that had bordered her estate at home. Transfixed by the transformation, gravity was lost on her wandering mind.

"What?"

"Fond of the word?" Lucy recognised his playful tone, her mind whispered this is how he should sound.

"Shut up."

"Enough." Rough hands cupped her cheeks, a thumb silencing her retort, "Why are you here habibti?" Lucy noticed the fire still flickering in his eyes, the furrow in his brow said the man didn't trust her. The white haze from her vision flashed across her consciousness. A heavy sadness and foreign familiarity settled on her chest.

Habibti.

Beloved.

Lucy blinked, realising a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Why did he say it so sadly?

Natsu.

-x-

Glossary

Alkhawna - Traitor

Kathaab - Liar

Habibti - Beloved

Mahrid - Blue Djinn

sihr - Djinn Magic

Zahri - Blue