#Seventh Sister is briefly in the beginning

[kodaiki]

꒰ 12:37 P.M. ꒱ ❛ hogwarts bbf!dan heng x reader ༉‧₊˚✧

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐈𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘, leaning against a stone column in the corner of the courtyard, the air around you crisp with the chill of winter. there's a chatter of voices among them as the hour of lunch passes you by. fellow students pass by, their footsteps muffled by the layer of snow from the storm a few nights prior. the atmosphere is hushed, the winter silence broken only by the distant sounds of laughter and the occasional gust of wind. lunch hour is in full swing, and while your housemates are likely warming up in the great hall, you're out here.

you would be –correction, should be – in the great hall, probably enjoying some warm food with your fellow house buddies and not freezing to death but alas, procrastination is your rival once again, taunting you as you scribble down the best you can your homework for herbology without any distractions. you gnaw your lip through your struggles, your hair falling in front of your face, slightly swaying from the brisk winter breeze painting your nose pink.

your quill moves across the parchment as you work on your herbology homework, your breath visible in the cold air when you take a deep sigh. the crunch of footsteps drawing near makes a presence known to you, but still, your eyes remain focused on your task at hand.

“and what’s my baby sister up to today?” a deep voice chimes from above you paired with a chuckle.

“work, go away,” is your curt response as you barely look up to meet your older brother’s amused glance your way.

“but where’s the fun in that?” blade muses, stepping closer to your sitting figure, his feet crushing the fallen leaves beneath his feet.

it’s when you look up to glare at your seventh year brother when you notice the other pair of eyes looking your way, quietly standing behind blade. your brows raise and eyes widen at the sight. when your eyes meet, the guy quickly averts his gaze and instead, turns his attention to grass.

"hey dan heng," you murmur a light greeting, your tone a blatant shift from the way you’d spoken to your brother. your chin dips into the striped scarf around your neck showing off your house's colors as you feel the winter air tickle your nose.

blade, in turn, rolls his eyes at the obviousness of your tone and softened gaze.

"hey," dan heng replies curtly, offering a nod of acknowledgment. blade swings an arm over his shoulder, shaking dan heng slightly as he hoists him closer, to which he makes a sour and slightly uncomfortable, expression.

"oh, now that i've found you, dear baby sis, we could probably use some advice," blade drawls with a sly smile on his face. in return, your face twists into slight confusion as you tilt your head to the side in question. it seems that you're the only who doesn't know what he's talking about because dan heng quite literally freezes, his throat bobbing slightly.

"advice about what?" you raise an eyebrow, now no longer the slightest bit interested in your homework due in a few short hours.

"well, the yule ball's coming up in a few weeks," blade begins, wiggling his brows knowingly. you nod along, scratching the side of your head, briefly glancing at dan heng, wondering how he could need advice from you of all people. "do you have a date?" your brother then asks. you can't tell if it's a genuine question or if he's looking for a reason to tease you.

"no, i don't," you answer simply, glancing back down at your homework. you miss the way blade turns to look at dan heng. "so, what advice do you need?"

"well, as you're well aware, i'm probably going to ask kafka, my near and dear best friend,” he drawls as if it’s obvious. your eyebrows raise, well aware of his platonic soulmate bond with the purple haired student. though, over time you truly wonder if it’s platonic or not. “but dan heng here is busy beating himself up wondering how to ask his crush," blade finishes, a mischievous glint in his eyes. he smirks knowingly, clearly enjoying the revelation that he just dropped on you.

your eyebrows shoot up in surprise and your eyes widen slightly at the implication that dan heng has someone in mind to ask to the yule ball. not only that, it must mean he has some form of a serious crush on someone, period. the air seems to thicken with an unspoken tension as you process blade's words. the image of dan heng asking someone to the yule ball takes on a new significance, and a strange mix of emotions swirls within you.

"dan heng, a crush?" you ask, trying to keep your tone casual even though your mind is buzzing with curiosity – and maybe some buried jealousy.

blade chuckles, enjoying the reaction he has stirred. "oh yeah. he's been overthinking it for days, probably even longer. poor guy doesn't know whether to go for a grand gesture or something simple. it's like watching a potions experiment gone wrong."

“oh,” you say in acknowledgment, glancing at dan heng with your softest-least-obvious smile his way. he rolls his eyes at blade's tone of words, obviously speaking as if he isn't standing right beside him.

“so that's what brings us to you, y/n. personally, how would you-” blade begins to ask in a light-toned, almost nonchalant voice when he's nudged in the gut by dan heng. “hey, rude,” blade grunts at him, but brushes off the elbow to his side. “how would you want to be asked to the ball? i can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears when he’s pacing around our room.”

“i don’t pace,” dan heng quickly cuts in and it’s the first time he’s spoken since he and blade arrived at the courtyard.

“sure you don’t,” blade rolls his eyes. your brother turns back to you. “so? how’d you wanna be asked?”

you swallow back the lump in your throat and avert your gaze to the parchment of your unfinished herbology homework, though your mind is no longer focused on the intricate details of magical plants at the moment. the subtle revelation that dan heng has someone in mind for the yule ball has captured your attention, and you can't help but wonder who the lucky girl might be, though it does leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

you have no reason to feel this way, of course. as far as you're concerned, dan heng is your older brother's best friend. you've only ever been around him for reason of association since blade just loves to tease and poke fun at you, and you've always seen dan heng as a reliable friend. yet, as you continue to feign interest in your herbology homework, the image of dan heng asking someone to the yule ball lingers in your mind.

"well," you begin, tapping the quill against the parchment thoughtfully, as you attempt to push whatever negative emotions are bubbling in your system, "i suppose a simple and sincere approach is always nice. maybe a heartfelt note or even a private conversation."

blade feigns a yawn, covering his mouth with his hand for dramatic effect. "bo-oring...and here i thought you'd go for something more grand and romantic. you know, like a surprise invitation under the stars or a magically enchanted message."

"well, those can be nice too, but sometimes simplicity holds its own charm. it's the thought and effort that count the most." you recall earlier in the week when march 7th was asked to the yule ball with a grandiose sign and flashmob in the middle of lunch. of course, she adored it, but you couldn't imaging sitting through that without feeling a little second hand embarrassment.

dan heng seems to be listening intently, though he's doing a poor job of pretending not to be. you catch his eyes briefly, and this time, he doesn't look away as quickly. there's a subtle warmth in his gaze that you can't quite decipher, but you offer him an encouraging smile.

blade, ever the perceptive older brother, grins knowingly. "i think that's some solid advice, don't you think?" he asks, nudging his friend beside him. it's almost like blade is staring through dan heng, and you can tell there's probably something you're unaware of that they're mentally communicating about.

dan heng, still recovering from the unexpected topic of asking his best friend's younger sister for love advice of all things, stumbles over his words. "i, uh, yeah. simple is good, got it."

"see? even dan heng agrees. thanks for the wisdom, dear sister." he offers a salute of gratitude as he turns to leave with his friend.

"hey, dan heng?" you ask before the've left ear shot. the two boys turn around to glance at you, blade raising an eyebrow with an imperceptible expression on his face.

"hm?" he hums, tilting his head slightly, his eyes boring into yours. you have to look away for a split second before you start to blush.

"good luck," you smile brightly. "no matter how you ask them, i'll sure they'll love it and say yes." the words tumble out before you can think. by the time you've said them, your cheeks are a warm pink, something you brush off as the cold winter air from sitting outside for too long.

"thanks, y/n," he says, offering a smile of his own, enough to illicit your brain to short circuit, which you don't have to recover from immediately because the boys then walk away. blade, of course, manages to sneak a teasing smile your way, well aware of what's probably going on in your head.

with that, blade drags dan heng away, likely to impart more "wisdom" in a less public setting. you could only assume what blade was busy whispering in his ear that makes him push him off while blade laughs. you're left alone against the tree, the courtyard now quieter as the lunch hour comes to an end.

the revelation that dan heng might be preparing to ask someone to the yule ball lingers in your thoughts. as you finally gather your books and stand up, ready to head inside and get warm instead of staying out in the cold for too long.

the day passes as you go through the rest of your classes. you hand in your poor attempt of your unfinished herbology homework, receiving a raised brow from professor sprout. still, she seems to give an equally as understanding expression, chalking up your less-than-ideal attempt having do with the excitement that relates to the yule ball.

you walk through the halls of hogwarts, hugging your books close to your chest on your way to dinner in the great hall, a much needed meal waiting for you after your long day. your eyes are trained at the tiled floor ahead of you as your mind is too preoccupied to focus on everything else. the corridors seem unusually crowded, filled with students excitedly discussing their plans for the upcoming event.

as you turn a corner on your way to your common room, your scattered and distracted thoughts make you unintentionally collide with someone, causing your books to scatter across the floor. flustered, you start gathering them, apologizing profusely without looking up. "sorry!"

a familiar voice responds, "no worries. i should have been more careful, too." you glance up, and there stands dan heng, a small smile playing on his lips as he bends down to help you collect your books.

"oh, hey again," you greet in a slight breathless tone, unsure whether you should feel more or less embarrassed that you collided right into him. "thanks," you say as he helps, feeling a strange warmth in the air as your hands accidentally brush against each other while reaching for the same book before you both quickly yank your hands back.

"no problem," he replies, handing you the last book. there's a brief moment where your eyes meet, and it feels like time stands still. there's unspoken tension, you think, and its palpable.

dan heng was never a man of many words, you know. then again, one glance from him can hold a million words. despite not being of many words, you never felt any less close to him than your own classmates who've talked your ear off on countless occasions. it might be an inappropriate crush, having one on your older brother's friend, but it's not like you can do anything about it now.

before you can say anything more, dan heng takes a step back, rubbing the back of his neck. "well, i better get going."

"right," you mumble, still caught in the lingering atmosphere between you two.

you watch as he turns away to leave you in the empty hall, but just as he's about to walk away, you notice him hesitate and pause in place. your face expresses confusion when he turns to face you again and looks back at you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

"everything okay?"

dan heng seems to struggle with his words for a moment, his gaze shifting as if he's trying to find the right way to express what's on his mind. it's a side of him you haven't seen before, and it leaves you both intrigued and a tad concerned.

"yeah," he finally says after a moment, his voice a touch lower than usual, like he's in deep thought. "i just wanted to say, um, about the yule ball..."

"oh! did you ask out who you wanted to?" your brows raise as your curiosity is piqued. your curiosity must be a masochist of sorts because why on earth are you so eager to find out something that will without doubt potentially ruin your night?

dan heng chuckles softly. "not quite," he says quietly. "i was just going to ask, did you really mean what you told blade and me earlier?"

"about what?" your head tilts to the side as you scrunch your eyebrows and a thoughtful frown is on your face.

"how you'd like to be asked," he clarifies. "something simple?"

"oh," you smile shyly. "well, yeah. i'm personally not one to love grand gestures of affection with the attention it garners," you laugh lightly to yourself. "why?"

"just wanted to make sure i'd get it right when i asked` you."

"hm," you hum to yourself with a nod, barely registering his words. a few seconds pass and your head jerks up a bit to meet his serious gaze, your face displaying perplexity. "wait, what?"

at your lost expression, dan heng smiles (smiles!) with an amused laugh through his nose. "the advice wasn't for me to ask someone else, y/n." he reveals in a . when you're still too shocked to say anything, he asks instead. "would you want to go to the yule ball with me?"

your heart skips a beat at the unexpected question. for a moment, a long moment, you're frozen in place, trying to process everything he just said. the realization dawns on you that the secret crush you harbored might not be so one-sided after all.

the courtyard conversation wasn't merely about hypotheticals for dan heng, you knew that, but not to this extent! not to mention, your brother blatantly asked you how you'd like to be asked (on behalf of all girls, but still) to the ball. you feel a little bamboozled, to be quite honest, but in the best way.

the air is thick with anticipation as you meet his eyes. the warmth in them is more evident now, and there's a vulnerability that you never expected to see from someone as composed as dan heng.

"really, me?" you ask, a genuine smile tugging at your lips.

"of course, you," he says like it's most obvious answer. after a few seconds, his expression turns serious, "if it's uncomfortable for you or if you don't want to, forgive me-"

"no-no, that's not it!" you quickly cut him off before he can finish, waving your hands in front of him. "i'd love to." you beam.

relief washes over him, and a smile breaks across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "yeah?"

you nod in confirmation, still smiling widely. you jut your thumb in the direction of the great hall. "i was just heading to a late dinner. you wanna come?"

dan heng wordlessly nods with a smile and falls into step with you as you both begin walking through the long corridor.

"so...earlier today with blade..." you trail off, breaking the comfortable silence as you recall the courtyard conversation.

"all his idea," he sighs, rolling his eyes. "he knew i wouldn't have just asked so he just had an idea of his own."

"did blade know the whole time?" you ask.

"he's only been bothering me about it since the start of fifth year."

you pause in your step. "fifth year?" you ask, shyly peering at him through the corner of your eyes as you walk toward the great hall.

"yeah," he says, scratching the back of his neck as his ears go red. "apparently i wasn't subtle enough for your brother to notice. it took him a while for me to admit it..."

you laugh, recalling on your own side how your own brother taunted you for staring extra long at his friend. was he playing matchmaker this whole time? "does that mean we'll have to thank him at some point?" you can only imagine the shit-eating grin on his face, all by his own behind the scenes doing.

there's a brief silence between you two and you come to the same answer.

"no."

"absolutely not."

.... so that's the first fic im back with! i know im rusty so pls let me be...plots will get better i swear <3 ty for reading! also we just gonna go w dan heng and blade being besties it's an alternate universe ok

[kemetic-dreams]

Carol Diann Johnson was born in the Bronx, New York City, on July 17, 1935, to John Johnson, a subway conductor, and Mabel (Faulk), a nurse. While Carroll was still an infant, the family moved to Harlem, where she grew up except for a brief period in which her parents had left her with an aunt in North Carolina. She attended Music and Art High School, and was a classmate of Billy Dee Williams. In many interviews about her childhood, Carroll recalls her parents' support, and their enrolling her in dance, singing, and modeling classes. By the time Carroll was 15, she was modeling for Ebony. "She also began entering television contests, including Arthur Godfrey's Talent Scouts, under the name Diahann Carroll." After graduating from high school, she attended New York University, where she majored in sociology, "but she left before graduating to pursue a show-business career, promising her family that if the career did not materialize after two years, she would return to college.

Carroll's big break came at the age of 18, when she appeared as a contestant on the DuMont Television Network program, Chance of a Lifetime, hosted by Dennis James. On the show, which aired January 8, 1954, she took the $1,000 top prize for a rendition of the Jerome Kern/Oscar Hammerstein song, "Why Was I Born?" She went on to win the following four weeks. Engagements at Manhattan's Café Society and Latin Quarter, nightclubs soon followed.

Carroll's film debut was a supporting role in Carmen Jones (1954), as a friend to the sultry lead character played by Dorothy Dandridge. That same year, she was nominated for a Tony Award for Best Featured Actress in a Musical for her role in the Broadway musical, House of Flowers. A few years later, she played Clara in the film version of George Gershwin's Porgy and Bess (1959), but her character's singing parts were dubbed by opera singer Loulie Jean Norman. The following year, Carroll made a guest appearance in the series Peter Gunn, in the episode "Sing a Song of Murder" (1960). In the next two years, she starred with Sidney Poitier, Paul Newman, and Joanne Woodward in the film Paris Blues (1961) and won the 1962 Tony Award for Best Actress in a Musical (the first time for a Black woman) for portraying Barbara Woodruff in the Samuel A. Taylor and Richard Rodgers musical No Strings. Twelve years later, she was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress for her starring role alongside James Earl Jones in the film Claudine (1974), which part had been written specifically for actress Diana Sands (who had made guest appearances on Julia as Carroll's cousin Sara), but shortly before filming was to begin, Sands learned she was terminally ill with cancer. Sands attempted to carry on with the role, but as filming began, she became too ill to continue and recommended her friend Carroll take over the role. Sands died in September 1973, before the film's release in April 1974.

Carroll is known for her titular role in the television series Julia (1968-71), which made her the first African-American actress to star in her own television series who did not play a domestic worker. That role won her the Golden Globe Award for Best TV Star – Female for its first year, and a nomination for an Primetime Emmy Award in 1969. Some of Carroll's earlier work also included appearances on shows hosted by Johnny Carson, Judy Garland, Merv Griffin, Jack Paar, and Ed Sullivan, and on The Hollywood Palace variety show. In 1984, Carroll joined the nighttime soap opera Dynasty at the end of its fourth season as the mixed-race jet set diva Dominique Deveraux, Blake Carrington's half-sister. Her high-profile role on Dynasty also reunited her with her schoolmate Billy Dee Williams, who briefly played her onscreen husband Brady Lloyd. Carroll remained on the show and made several appearances on its short-lived spin-off, The Colbys until she departed at the end of the seventh season in 1987. In 1989, she began the recurring role of Marion Gilbert in A Different World, for which she received her third Emmy nomination that same year.

In 1991, Carroll portrayed Eleanor Potter, the doting, concerned, and protective wife of Jimmy Potter (portrayed by Chuck Patterson), in the musical drama film The Five Heartbeats (1991), also featuring actor and musician Robert Townsend and Michael Wright. She reunited with Billy Dee Williams again in 1995, portraying his character's wife Mrs. Greyson in Lonesome Dove: The Series. The following year, Carroll starred as the self-loving and deluded silent movie star Norma Desmond in the Canadian production of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical version of the film Sunset Boulevard. In 2001, Carroll made her animation debut in The Legend of Tarzan, in which she voiced Queen La, ruler of the ancient city of Opar.

In 2006, Carroll appeared in several episodes the television medical drama Grey's Anatomy as Jane Burke, the demanding mother of Dr. Preston Burke. From 2008 to 2014, she appeared on USA Network's series White Collar in the recurring role of June, the savvy widow who rents out her guest room to Neal Caffrey. In 2010, Carroll was featured in UniGlobe Entertainment's breast cancer docudrama titled 1 a Minute and appeared as Nana in two Lifetime movie adaptations of Patricia Cornwell’s novels: At Risk and The Front.

In 2013, Carroll was present on stage at the 65th Primetime Emmy Awards to briefly speak about being the first African-American nominated for a Primetime Emmy Award. She was quoted as saying about Kerry Washington, nominated for Scandal, "She better get this award."

Carroll was a founding member of the Celebrity Action Council, a volunteer group of celebrity women who served the women's outreach of the Los Angeles Mission, working with women in rehabilitation from problems with alcohol, drugs, or prostitution. She helped to form the group along with other female television personalities including Mary Frann, Linda Gray, Donna Mills, and Joan Van Ark.

Carroll was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1997. She said the diagnosis "stunned" her, because there was no family history of breast cancer, and she had always led a healthy lifestyle. She underwent nine weeks of radiation therapy and had been clear for years after the diagnosis. She frequently spoke of the need for early detection and prevention of the disease. She died from cancer at her home in West Hollywood, California, on October 4, 2019, at the age of 84. Carroll also had dementia at the time of her death, though actor Marc Copage, who played her character's son on Julia, said that she did not appear to show serious signs of cognitive decline as late as 2017. A memorial service was held in November 24, 2019, at the Helen Hayes Theater in New York City.

[dualcastimpact]

the tale overflows (it carries your light out to sea)

to be known is to be loved; (and so eternally beloved you become)

Happy nameday, Raginmar!

More context about each character and their relationship with Raginmar below the cut.

L'vazha Tia and Canso Lechanteur

Members of Viatgers Vuit, an adventuring party consisting of Raginmar and his closest companions. Raginmar and L'vazha are both rogues affiliated with the Dutiful Sisters of the Edelweiss (with L'vazha having extensive reach in the shadows beyond that), while Raginmar and Canso both stood against the Garlean Empire at one point in their past (and paid dearly for it). While their histories and personalities vary greatly – Raginmar is a near-unflappable veteran soldier with quiet, cutting wit; L'vazha is a lord in the criminal underworld masquerading as a friendly, jovial merchant; and Canso is a beguilingly charming former Imperial prisoner–turned–adventurer – the ruthless and cold-blooded pragmatism they all share sets them apart from the rest of the party.

Viatgers Vuit are no strangers to killing. These men murder.

Adricienne Brookes

Member of Viatgers Vuit. Currently a postmaster affiliated with the Delivery Moogles, Adricienne was briefly a Scion of the Seventh Dawn before setting out to become an adventurer on her own terms. Joining Raginmar in delving into the mysteries of Haukke Manor was what inspired her to leave Gridania to see the world for herself – a decision that has literally broadened her horizons and taken her across the borders of Eorzea and to all corners of the known world, and eventually reconnected her with her long-lost father.

Regissant Aujouerre and Niko Maimhov

Unaffiliated with Viatgers Vuit, Regissant and Niko are a duo of adventurers who cross paths with Raginmar frequently, beginning from their first adventuring job with Gridania's Carline Canopy, forming a party to investigate the Tam-Tara Deepcroft. Being a Highlander, a Duskwight and a Keeper of the Moon respectively, the trio faced significant prejudice from the Gridanian healer in their party who eventually abandoned them midway through battling the cultists cloistered within the deepcroft – surviving the ordeal fostered a deep bond between them that lasted over years of infrequent meetings in taverns and adventurer guild halls. Similar to Adricienne, it was Raginmar who encouraged the two to leave Gridania and free themselves from the city-state's deeply prejudiced societal shackles, and they have now made a name for themselves across Eorzea and beyond.

Fionn Airgetlam

Member of the Lemures, a Garlean order dedicated to protecting and supporting Garlean refugees in Eorzea. Fionn is technically one such refugee, having been created as a warmachina as part of the VIIth Imperial Legion's Weapon project – only scaled down to the size of a man and possessing of the Warrior of Light's combat data. Despite the nature of its creation, the warmachina developed sentience and chose to flee his creators, eventually finding himself in Ul'dah where he came face-to-face with the very man he was created to destroy.

He had expected death from the Warrior of Light. He had not expected compassion; it was his extremely timely intervention that saved Fionn and fellow Lemure Arnegis from near-certain death. Raginmar would later outfit Fionn with a new arm, replacing the one that had been destroyed in his fight against the voidsent Orcus, and assist him with gaining entry into the abandoned keep of Dusk Vigil to rescue his mentor Drusilla.

(in another timeline, it would be through his first-hand knowledge of the Weapons project that Raginmar could save Gaius' children from perishing in battle and eventually save Alfonse Baelsar from complete subsummation into the Diamond Weapon)

Marzanna Branmirasch and Sasariku Nonoriku

Members of Viatgers Vuit. Originally an independent duo of adventurers, Marzanna and Sasariku became part of the party after joining a number of them on a primal-dispatching quest. It would not be after many adventures moons later that they would learn of Marzanna's past as an Imperial scientist and engineer responsible for the horrific deaths of Raginmar's subordinates over ten years ago. Despite the revelation that nearly tore the party apart, Sasariku stood by his friend and first adventuring partner until the very end – to a resolution that only Raginmar and Marzanna know. Their history remains unknown to the others even now.

Marzanna's scene only shows her (stand-in model's) tail because the female Hrothgar is still unreleased in-game as of the creation of this post; maybe one day I'll remake this once Dawntrail releases.

Kirika Kagutsuchi and Hyllizirn Ahldachtwyn

Members of Viatgers Vuit – the very first members, in fact: Kirika, Hyllizirn, L'vazha and Raginmar were the initial four members of what would eventually become one of Eorzea's finest adventuring parties, although they began their journey simply as a way to make ends meet in a strange new land. Throughout their adventures, Raginmar remained their steadfast pillar of unwavering support – from guild quests to journeys of self-discovery, internal conflicts and reclamations of honour, there is nobody the Viatgers Vuit trust with their lives more that him.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Free Write #4: Forbidden

"One more thing." Kan-E-Senna said. Rising from her chair, she picked up a single sheet of parchment. Gaius frowned, watching as the Elder Seedseer approached him. Her face was like stone, and the paper silently rustled as it was placed in front of the now ex-legatus.

"Sign this."

"And what I am signing?" Gaius countered.

"A restraining order. Filed on behalf of Riven DeGlass." Kan-E watched as Gaius's eyes widened in shock--his normally stoic mien cracking briefly.

"You are forbidden from any contact with her. You are forbidden from seeing her. Any matters that require her presence in your vicinity will be carried out by another member of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn on her behalf." The nightmarish memory of Mathye fighting to save Riven's life, the sheer brutality of learning up close and personal what the Garlean excision process was--watching her beloved brothers battle to calm the out-of-control Valefor down--the memories bubbled up in the Elder Seedseer's thoughts.

But what stuck in Kan-E's mind the most was the ghost-memory of the cutting. Had Riven's brothers shown up a minute later--Valefor would have been dead, and Riven with her. All on the orders of Gaius van Baelsar, who had wanted to 'fix' his granddaughter.

Riven, who had been trapped by Gaius in Garlean anti-magic irons and a shock collar to ensure good behavior before she had been taken to the excision labs.

Mathye--one of E-Sumi's prized students, despite their relationship-weeping every night over his adopted sister's prone body. Begging the gods to free Riven's mind from the hell it had been thrown into.

Riven's pain--and the reality that awaited Eorzea should the Garleans truly invade--bringing their tools that killed magic--it had been the impetus for Kan-E and her fellow city-state leaders to finally take their own stand. To begin reversing the decrees against Dominants. They still had a lot to make up for.

But offering one Dominant who had given and was still giving everything she could for the realm--despite it's treatment of her--peace of mind, security...that was something they could do. They could ensure that van Baelsar stayed far away from his accidental progeny. And they could promise to unleash hell if he didn't.

"Sign. Or else the previous agreement becomes null and void." Kan-E's voice was steel. "And just to make you aware, the alternative to this was putting you in irons and handing you over to her brothers. Mathye Bishop in particular is very keen on that happening."

[george-weasleys-girl]

Chapter 20 - Blood and Sacrifice

Warnings: couple curse words, death of non-major characters, discussions of blood magic, brief mention of the Roman Blood Eagle (not graphic), suggestive language at the end.

I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything.

Summary: Two letters addressed to Y/N arrive at the Burrow on the last day of Spring Break, prompting a few interesting discussions.

Start Here:

~•~

In spite of the lingering tension between Y/N and Mrs. Weasley, dinner on the last evening of Spring Break turned into a celebration with the arrival of two very important letters for Y/N. The first was from her grandma, allowing her to stay until August. The second was her acceptance letter from the Hemalurgy Apprenticeship Program, paving the way for her to persue her dream of becoming a researcher of magical blood diseases and blood curses.

"Tell me," Arthur asked as they gathered in the living room after dinner. "What prompted you to choose this particular career?"

"Friends," she answered with a sad smile. Fred reached out and patted her knee, while George put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. They already knew this story.

"Wren and Rhys Taylor were twins. Sister and brother. They were three years ahead of me, both of them Pukwudgies, and two of the sweetest people I've ever met. They'd appointed themselves the unofficial welcomers for all first years; showing them around, answering questions, offering advice, those sort of things. Everyone who knew them, loved them." She smiled briefly, remembering.

"Unfortunately, they both suffered from blood malediction. Over the next couple of years, I became more and more determined to find a cure as I watched them slowly deteriorate." George gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and she let herself melt further into his side.

"Near the end of their sixth year, their health took a nosedive. They were unable to get out of bed at times. We were all surprised when they returned for their seventh year. I think they were determined to graduate, even if it was the last thing they did."

"We're they able to? Graduate, I mean." Ginny's asked.

"Sadly, no. They could barely function most days. After about a month, they went home. Then, just before the Christmas holidays, we recieved word they'd both slipped into comas, passing away less than a week later. It's said their hearts stopped beating at the exact same moment."

Y/N fell silent, looking down at her hands. "Not a day goes by that I don't think about them."

"That's so sad." Ginny said. "They seemed like such lovely people."

Y/N looked up, eyes watery with unshed tears. "They were. We created the Taylor Welcoming Committee in their honor. Volunteers from all the houses join up every year. It's become a school-wide effort."

Mrs. Weasley leaned forward and patted Y/N's hand. "I think Wren and Rhys would be happy knowing the whole school comes together to carry on their kindness."

Y/N smiled. "Yes, I believe they would."

~•~

The conversation shifted to lighter matters for a time, allowing Y/N a bit of distraction, before their discussion returned to her future career.

"Other than finding a cure for blood malediction, is there anything else you want to research?" Arthur asked.

"Absolutely. I have a particular interest in lycanthropy. Did you know a werewolf bite and performing blood magic affect the body in a strikingly similar way?"

"No," Harry leaned forward, thinking of Professor Lupin. "How so?"

"In both cases, the magic fuses itself to the person's blood cells and everytime the cells regenerate, which around two million every second, the new cells carry the alteration. Their bodies become the physical manifestations of that particular magic. That's why the cure for lycanthropy is so elusive and it's also the reason most blood magic practicioners seek out sacrifices."

"Wait. I thought sacrifices were required for blood magic?" Arthur asked.

"That's the common belief. But, it's not true at all."

"So, why do people do it?" Molly asked.

"Blood magic, by it's very nature, is incredibly volatile and dangerous. However, when it works, the spellcaster gains unspeakable power, making them damn near unstoppable. When it doesn't work, well‐‐it makes the Roman Blood Eagle seem gentle and loving." Y/N paused to let her words sink in. The blood eagle was a horrific form of execution devised by muggles in Ancient Rome that eventually spread into the magical world.

"At some point," Y/N continued, "someone figured out how to transfer all the risk onto someone else, while the spellcaster obtains all the power. After that, blood magicians stopped taking so much care. Because, why would they? They were no longer the ones in danger."

"Cowards," Ginny spat. "Monsters."

"What are you babbling about Ginny? Those words don't even go together," Ron argued. "Monsters can't be afraid."

Fred chuckled. "Seriously, Ron? Are you that dense? Of course monsters can be afraid. That's what makes them monsters."

Ron stared at Fred as the room fell into silence. Any further questions were forgotten, swallowed whole by the raw truth of Fred's words.

~•~

Soon after, unable to revive any of their previous discussions, everyone either went to bed or wandered off elsewhere.

George and Y/N were lying in the field just outside the Burrow, stargazing, when they heard the crunch of footsteps on the grass. George sat up, turning. "Oh hi, Harry."

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, not at all." George smiled and waved him over.

"We're just admiring the night sky," Y/N said, sitting up.

"Uh yeah, it's uh, it's beautiful." Harry's left hand twitched.

"You alright, mate?" George asked.

"I--uh--yeah. No, actually. No, no, not really at all."

"Can we help?" Y/N asked, patting the grass next to her and George. "Worried about the final tournament task?"

Harry sat. "No. Well, I mean, yeah. But, that's not why I'm here. I--I wanted to talk to you, Y/N, about the blood magic stuff."

"Oh, ok. What's on your mind?" she asked.

Harry picked at the grass for a minute before speaking. "Do you think Voldemort originally used blood magic to become so powerful?"

"Yes." Y/N said. "I'm certain of it. And I'm also pretty certain he didn't have the balls to take on the risks himself."

Harry nodded. "What spell do you think he used?"

"No clue." Y/N answered. "There are countless sanguine spells, most hidden away. I wouldn't even know where to begin looking. Sorry."

"It's ok," he said, giving Y/N a half-hearted smile.

The three sat in silence for a while. George and Y/N returned to their stargazing, while Harry continued to decimate his little patch of grass.

"Y/N?" Harry asked.

She and George turned back to face him. "Yes, Harry?"

"If Voldemort was so powerful, how did my mum protect me? Dumbledore said it was love, but after what you said tonight, I'm not sure that would've been enough."

Y/N took a deep breath. "Dumbledore told you the truth, just not all of it. Lily did use love to save you, but not in the way you think."

Harry's eyes bore into her own.

"Your mother's sacrifice was a form of blood magic."

Even in the darkness, George and Y/N could see all the color drain from his face. He swayed and George reached out to steady him.

Harry waved him off. "I-I'm fine," he stuttered.

George pulled back, but kept a keen eye on him, poised to move if Harry looked like he might collapse.

"What do you mean she performed blood magic? My mum wasn't--" Harry's words trailed off, unable to fathom the possibility.

"A monster? Evil?" Y/N asked. "No. What your mom did that night was as far from evil as a person could get."

Harry looked up at her. "But, I thought--"

"It wasn't sanguine magic in the way most people perceive it. Her actions were purely sacrifical, but also pure instinct. She probably didn't even realize the full measure of what she was doing." Y/N explained. "Because you and Lily share the same blood, she was able to infuse everything into you in that split second. Not just her love, but her power and her strength, and that of all your ancestors, magic or not. Voldemort didn't stand a chance."

"Purely sacrificial." Harry muttered. "That means she--"

"Did what any loving mother would've done," Y/N began.

"She took a bullet for you." George finished.

Harry lowered his head to hide his tears. "Thank you," he whispered, rising to leave.

"Hey, we're not letting you off the hook that easy!" George exclaimed.

"Wh--" Harry turned back, surprised to see their arms open wide.

"Group hug," Y/N said, her fingers motioning him back toward them.

Harry all but lept into their arms.

~•~

"I can hear you thinking," George said, as he and Y/N spooned in the guest bed.

"That loud, huh?"

"You're keeping me awake, love."

"Sorry sweetie," she said, rolling over to face him. "I just can't stop thinking about Harry."

George pushed her hair away from her face. "Poor bloke can't catch a break."

"That's the understatement of the decade," she said, giving George a small smile. "He's only fourteen. When I was fourteen, my biggest worries were the end-of-year-exams and whether or not grandma was going to let me visit Callie for a couple of weeks over the summer. I can barely comprehend the weight he carries."

"None of us can."

Y/N sighed. "I wish we could help more, ease his burden, somehow."

"We do," George said. "By just being his friends and being there when he needs us. I think tonight really helped. Well, at least, the group hug part."

Y/N giggled. "I suppose you're right. Who doesn't love a good hug?"

"Certainly not me." George pulled her closer. "You know, I think I might need some help falling asleep tonight."

"Again?" Y/N teased. "That's how many nights in row, now?"

"Lost count," he mummered against her lips, making her grin as he deepened the kiss.

Next Chapter:

~•~

@milivanili99

@slytherclaw1978

[juliasdowntonstuff]

New drabble posted :)

I've just posted a new drabble on ff and ao3. This one is called "Your wife is making you weak"

I know that this is a rather long one yet again, but I just kept adding more and more to it and now we've got this situation with two timelines going on. Still, hope you like it — I'll put a long-ish snippet from the beginning under the cut as well.

The coach rattled along the cobbled streets, and the horses' hooves clacked on the ground in a familiar pattern. They were on their way to the first ball of the season in a grand ballroom somewhere in Mayfair, London. Where exactly, he had no idea. Rosamund had mentioned it once or twice during luncheon, but he hadn't paid enough attention. This was not her first season, yet she behaved like it was for some strange reason. She had never been too enthusiastic about attending any balls or going to dress fittings in London — until this year. He had briefly wondered what had changed her mind, but Rosamund was old enough and he had more important things to take care of than his sister's sixth London season, or was it her seventh? He was not sure. Either way, Robert wished it was their coach ride back home after the last ball of the season, all these balls that would follow this one already exhausted him and he could only guess how Cora must have been feeling.

She looked beautiful, his darling wife, so very beautiful — especially in the soft yellow hues from the gas lamps that bathed her features in this warm glow. How it had taken him so long to realise just how incredibly lucky he was to have her as his wife was something he would never be able to understand. She was looking out the window, her eyes following the houses they passed by on their way, and the softest hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

They weren't speaking. There was no need for them to, they would have more than enough opportunities for that throughout the entire evening. Robert had no intentions of leaving her side even once this evening if he could help it. This coach ride was their calm before the storm.

Robert was thankful that he did not have to spend the ride together in a coach with his mother and sister. He was sure that there was another storm well underway already and he did feel for his father who would have to negotiate between the two headstrong women, which was not at all an easy task.

When the coach came to a halt in front of a stately London home of yet another English nobleman he had surely met before but could not recall, he squeezed her hand to garner her attention. "Are you ready, my dear?"

Cora blinked a few times, averting her tired gaze back to her husband on the seat opposite her. "With you by my side, yes," she replied, smiling widely at him.

He stepped out first, reaching out his arm to help her disembark as gracefully as possible, before he put his top hat on and straightened his tie. They waited patiently out in the rather chilly April night for the coach with his parents and sister to arrive. Robert knew Cora must have been freezing, and had it not meant getting into another quarrel with his mother, he would have quickly draped his coat across her slender shoulders. But alas, he knew that would not be deemed appropriate, and so he had to helplessly watch her pull her shawl tighter around herself.

A while later, after a nice, yet rather uneventful dinner, Robert stood next to the large dance floor with his family and had to listen to his mother giving his sister the same advice she always seemed to give.

"And Rosamund. Remember what I told you. You are entitled to your opinions, but don't speak them on a crowded dancefloor. That sort of thing tends to run the people off you want to attract."

Robert looked at his sister and saw how she rolled her eyes. She had had to listen to that countless times throughout her seasons already and it did not surprise him to find her sick of statements such as that one. Though, he supposed, his mother was right. Most men were not like him. Most men only wanted a pretty wife, not one with well-founded opinions of her own. What most of his fellow man had not realised was that the two were not exclusive — his wife had both, beauty and brains, each in large capacities. He truly was one lucky man with a bright future ahead of him.

"When do you think it is appropriate for us to leave? I do feel quite tired already," she asked lowly, only for him to hear. She was well aware they had only just arrived and it would still be a while until they would be able to go home, but she had found it was always best to tell Robert these things well in advance so that he could keep them in mind for later when the need truly arose.

"Once the dancing has officially commenced, I think. It should not be long now. We have to dance at least once. See, and especially, be seen, as Mama would say. But it should not be too long now, my dear. Do you maybe want to sit down?" Robert asked, looking around the crowded ballroom in search of a chair for her.

"No, no. I am perfectly alright standing here. Though I do think that your cousin will drag you away from me soon. He is already making his way over here."

Cora's tone suggested exactly what she thought of him, and he knew she was not wrong in thinking any of it. She had no particular sympathies for James, his first cousin. He could truly be a nasty man if he wanted to be, especially when he had had a few drinks already.

"Cousin Robert, I knew that was you I saw enter a while ago. I'm sure your wife wouldn't mind if I whisked you away to talk with a few chaps I know, would she? There are plenty of other men around to keep her occupied, after all."

Robert sharply inhaled. He could already smell the whiskey on his cousin's breath that told him it was not wise to argue with him. Looking apologetically at his wife, he followed James to the opposite end of the grand room and left her there to fend for herself against his will. "I will be back shortly," he said hastily as he had to let go of her gloved hand.

Robert did not enjoy himself standing in that circle of young men, half of whom had already had at least as many drinks as his cousin. He knew he should probably pay more attention to what they were saying, but he only had eyes for her. Even from across the ballroom, he revelled at her beauty. The way one strand of her dark hair always seemed to manage to escape her coiffure and fall to her neck almost drove him mad, and the way her new deep blue ballgown couldn't hide the impending change in their lives any longer mesmerised him.

"What do you say, Grantham? Are you in?"

He heard his name, one of the other men must have asked him something, and he had not paid any attention at all to their conversation. He should be feeling bad, but he simply couldn't when he was still looking at his pregnant wife.

"I'm sorry, I was rather preoccupied just now, I am afraid," Robert said, returning his attention to the men he was supposed to be conversing with.

"Preoccupied with what? Staring at your pregnant American wife?" one of them said, a rather distasteful undertone lacing his voice when he spoke of Cora's heritage. The man was short, surely at least a head shorter than him, and quite the weak fellow, Robert assessed as he looked him over. The suit he was wearing seemed way too big for him, and especially in combination with his sleek black hair, it made him appear almost ghostly white and rather feeble. He could definitely take him on in a fight, Robert thought disparagingly, not that he would throw the first punch if he did not necessarily have to. He knew better than to cause such a scene in a London ballroom.

"Branksome has invited all of us for a week of hunting on his estate in Dorset in June. Can we expect to see you there, as well?" another man said quickly before Robert had a chance to reply to that, shooting warning looks to the black-haired man.

"June, you say?" Robert asked to buy himself some time to come up with a plausible excuse. He could not tell them that he wanted to stay home for Cora, they would all laugh at him. Marriages like theirs were rare, and most of the men standing with him in the stuffy ballroom were still bachelors and as such even less likely to understand his true reasoning. "I don't think so, I will be busy with taking care of my father's estate from the end of May while he stays here with my mother and sister for the rest of the season, as far as I am aware."

Just when the black-haired man wanted to reply — something quite distasteful, Robert imagined — the music started to fill the air and called him back to his wife.

"I am sorry to hear you will be missing out, Grantham. But I wish you all the best in your homely endeavours. And now it is time for us to find our dance partners, I assume," Viscount Branksome then said with a smile, motioning towards the dance floor that was beginning to fill with people.

"If I were married, I surely wouldn't let my wife come in the way of a great week of shooting and drinking with my fellow man. It is her responsibility to bear the child, not mine."

Robert did not have to look to know that it was indeed that short man talking behind his back.

One last time, Robert turned back to face him. "Then I do hope that marriage is still a long way from you, dear chap, in the interest of any woman who makes your acquaintance in future," Robert only said dryly, raising his eyebrows as if to dare that man to retort something.

James threw him a warning look and it was clear that he did not agree with his cousin. Oh, he would definitely get to hear more on this matter later, though most likely from one of his parents. James was an awful gossip, always had been, ever since they were little boys.

She had her back turned to him and was talking to Rosamund when he tapped her gently on the shoulder and whispered near her ear: "May I have the honour of this dance, my Lady?"

Smiling brightly at hearing his gentle drawl from behind her, she turned around and put her hand in his so that he could lead her to the dance floor. She threw an apologetic look over her shoulder back at Rosamund, who simply smiled. Rather unhappily so, Robert thought.

"And? What did the young, desirable men of society want to discuss?" she asked as he carefully and skilfully manoeuvred her across the dance floor to the sounds of a slow waltz being played.

"Nothing much, at least I don't think so. And most of them are really not as desirable as one might hope."

"Really? Don't men like you always have important things to talk through whenever they meet?"

"I think so, maybe. If they did, then I did not notice. I was quite preoccupied with looking at this stunning young lady across the room. She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, you see," he replied teasingly, his lip curling into a subtle smile while his eyes stayed vigilantly fixed on their surroundings.

"Oh, do I know her? Who is she?"

"I think you do know her." Robert quickly glanced down at her, not watching the other dancing couples for a second, trusting they would try their best to avoid bumping into them as well. "She is quite tall, with dark curly hair and ocean-blue eyes one could easily get lost in. Even from afar, she is radiant, especially in her delicate condition; and elegant in everything she does. And her smile is to die for."

"Stop, Robert, you are making me blush. Not in this room full of people," she replied quietly, smiling coyly with her eyes fixed on his cravat pin. She tried her best to hide it, but he saw the way her cheeks had coloured when he said the words and he liked it.

"But I haven't even got to the part about her lovely accent that I happen to adore," he jested, which did earn him a stern but loving look from her.

[miajolensdevotion]

Be A Peacemaker

WELCOME-PEACEMAKER

Do you consider yourself a peacemaker? Briefly share how you exemplify it.

WORD

Matthew 5:9 New International Version (NIV) says

9 Blessed are the peacemakers,     for they will be called children of God.

We all want peace. Every nation on earth aims for peace. In fact, the United Nations was established with the goal of world peace. But ever since it was formed, there was never a year without a war. Peace is definitely elusive. We need not look too far. Right at home, families are breaking apart, children are suing parents or each other & divorce is rampant. Suicide & depression are on the rise because people have no peace inside. The truth is peace should begin with every person. If we do not have peace, how can we be at peace with others? The wicked have no peace, because they do not have God. 

Isaiah 57:20 New International Version (NIV) says

20 But the wicked are like the tossing sea,     which cannot rest,     whose waves cast up mire and mud.

We cannot have peace apart from the Prince of Peace.

Romans 16:20 New International Version (NIV) says

20 The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.

The grace of our Lord Jesus be with you.

Isaiah 9:6 New International Version (NIV) says

6 For to us a child is born,     to us a son is given,     and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called     Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,     Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

John 14:7 New International Version (NIV) says

7 If you really know me, you will know[a] my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him.”

The truth is, we were all at war with God until we surrender our life to God & be justified by faith. Only then will we have peace with God through Jesus Christ.

Romans 5:1 New International Version (NIV) says

Peace and Hope

5 Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we[a] have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,

To have the peace of God, we first need to have peace with Him.But peace will not come to you without surrendering yourself to Him. The Bible uses two words for peace-the Hebrew word 'shalom' & the Greek word 'eirene'. Both words express the idea of peace that comes from God. Not just the absence of war, God's peace is experiencing God's very best being in a state of security & freedom from anxiety.

HAPPY ARE THE PEACEMAKERS

The seventh Beatitude tells us that happy are the peacemakers, not the troublemakers. Troublemakers gossip, they cause division, add fuel to the fire, instigate disagreements & want people to take sides.

Proverbs 26:20-21 New International Version (NIV) says

20 Without wood a fire goes out;     without a gossip a quarrel dies down. 21 As charcoal to embers and as wood to fire,     so is a quarrelsome person for kindling strife.

The Bible speaks against them. In fact. if we cause dissension we are as guilty as the sexually immoral & the likes; troublemaking is a serious sin 

Galatians 5:19-21 New International Version (NIV) says

19 The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; 20 idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions21 and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.

so, we cannot be neutral about it.

Proverbs 20:19 New International Version (NIV) says

19 A gossip betrays a confidence;     so avoid anyone who talks too much.

Romans 16:17 New International Version (NIV) says

17 I urge you, brothers and sisters, to watch out for those who cause divisions and put obstacles in your way that are contrary to the teaching you have learned. Keep away from them.

Being a peacemaker, however, forms part of the marks of a true follower of Jesus Christ. As peacemakers, we should not cause division. Instead, we should love one another, which is an evidence that we are disciples of Jesus Christ. 

John 13:35 New International Version (NIV) says

35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

By our unity, the world will know Jesus Christ.

John 17:23 New International Version (NIV) says

23 I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

But what are the characteristics of peacemakers? A peacemaker takes initiatives

Matthew 5:23-24 New International Version (NIV) says

23 “Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, 24 leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift.

In the days of Jesus Christ, it will take days to go to the temple in Jerusalem if you are from Galilee or Nazareth. But if at the altar, you remember that a family member has something against you, Jesus Christ says you should go back to be reconciled first before giving your offering in the temple. If we are the ones hurt our act of peacemaking is to talk to the person in private,

Matthew 18:15-17 New International Version (NIV) says

Dealing With Sin in the Church

15 “If your brother or sister[a] sins,[b] go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over.16 But if they will not listen, take one or two others along, so that ‘every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.’[c] 17 If they still refuse to listen, tell it to the church; and if they refuse to listen even to the church, treat them as you would a pagan or a tax collector.

not in public, not in Facebook or with other people who are not part of the problem nor part of the solution. If the other person refuses to listen, we elevate it to another level to resolve the issue. Some people may refuse to be at peace with us but if possible, let us be at peace with everyone.

Romans 12:18-19 New International Version (NIV) says

18 If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. 19 Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,”[a] says the Lord.

Peacemakers are not passive or indifferent, but they take the word of God seriously to fix the problem. A peacemaker speaks the truth in love

Ephesians 4:15 New International Version (NIV) says

15 Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ.

Love must be balanced with truth. It is not easy to tell someone he is wrong, but if we really love him, we will tell him. 

Proverbs 27:5-6 New International Version (NIV) says

5 Better is open rebuke     than hidden love.

6 Wounds from a friend can be trusted,     but an enemy multiplies kisses.

Speaking the truth is painful because people do not want to be corrected. But we should not run away from the problem & instead seek to speak the truth in love. A peacemaker asks for forgiveness & forgives others

Colossians 3:13 New International Version (NIV) says

13 Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.

Without forgiveness, it is hard to restore relationships. People who cannot forgive have a problem. They probably do not know Jesus Christ yet because until one has experienced the forgiveness & grace of God, it will be hard to forgive others & to ask for forgiveness. A peacemaker reconciles people to God & one another 

2 Corinthians 5:18-20New International Version (NIV) says

18 All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: 19 that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. 20 We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God.

God loves us. He has forgiven us through Jesus Christ & reconciled us to Himself. Once we are reconciled with Him, He gives us the ministry of reconciliation. Once we experience reconciliation with God, we also want others to be reconciled with Him & to one another as we become ambassadors of Jesus Christ. They will be called SONS OF GOD; As a peacemakers we are not only ambassadors, we are called sons of God. The Bible uses the word 'son' as an adjective, for example, Barnabas is the son of encouragement,

Acts 4:36 New International Version (NIV) says

36 Joseph, a Levite from Cyprus, whom the apostles called Barnabas (which means “son of encouragement”),

James & John are sons of thunder. 

Mark 3:16-17 New International Version (NIV) says

16 These are the twelve he appointed: Simon (to whom he gave the name Peter), 17 James son of Zebedee and his brother John (to them he gave the name Boanerges, which means “sons of thunder”),

To be called the 'sons of God' comes with the highest honor of representing what God is like-a peacemaking God. As peacemakers, we have the highest title representing God & His family. When people look at us, do they see God in us? To be true followers of Jesus Christ, we are called to be peacemakers.

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS:(PLEASE DO NOT INCLUDE ANYMORE YOUR PAST EXPERIENCE BECAUSE WE ARE NOW AT THE PRESENT) 

1. What is the promise & blessing to peacemakers according to Matthew 5:9?

answer: The promise & blessing to peacemakers according to Matthew 5:9 is they will call children of God

2. How should you respond to people who refuse your initiative to make peace with them? 

answer: I should respond to people who refuse my initiative to make peace with them by praying to God

3. Identify the people you need to make peace with. Which characteristics of a peacemaker will you put into action starting this week? 

answer:The people I need to make peace with is the relative my ex-husband; the characteristic of a peacemaker I will put into action starting this week is speaking in truth in love

[starmagicked]

so with all my heart, i'm gonna love; with all my heart, i'm gonna trust.

DISCLAIMER.

This verse is incredibly malleable and assumed when interacting with canon Warriors of Light. ( meaning any WOLs that primarily follow the MSQ &&. make their characters an official Warrior of Light. ) By the end of Endwalker, she is twenty-nine. 

Though this doesn't detail everything Rilha does as a scion in the MSQ, it details the main events that happen. Her "story arc" so to say happens in Stormblood, when she returns to Kugane and confronts her family.

while i have a verse tag for this, it will mainly be for headcanons and not in character posts.

cw , spoilers for all of the expansions.

BEFORE A REALM REBORN.

Rilha’s story follows the same in the beginning, except it happens pre-A Realm Reborn. A year before the events of A Realm Reborn take place, Rilha is outcast from her home in Kugane, given only her mother’s staff, Tishtrya, to defend herself as she sets sail for Gridania. Being taken in by the Conjurer’s guild, she harnesses her skills as a white mage, and due to her talent she’s scouted out by Yda and Papalymo. Having nowhere else to go, she agrees to join the Scions of the Seventh Dawn as a healer.

Rilha grows to see Minfilia as a sister, becoming close with her as they work together. Minfilia is the first to empathize with Rilha’s situation, claiming that there shouldn’t be consequences for loving too much. Along with Papalymo and Yda, Rilha is stationed in the Black Shroud to stay close to the Conjurer’s guild.

A REALM REBORN.

After the Scions find the Warrior of Light, someone who possesses the echo like Minfilia, Rilha is eager to accept a new member into the efforts. She assists the best she can into helping the Warrior of Light defeat primals, acting as a healer on the sidelines for them. When Alphinaud suggests forming the Crystal Braves, Rilha is hesitant to the idea, and keeps an eye on him closely. During the dinner in which Nanamo ul Namo is assassinated, Rilha escapes Ul’dah with Alphinaud, Tataru and the Warrior of Light, seeking shelter in Ishgard.

HEAVENSWARD.

Upon entering Ishgard, Rilha takes the time to learn the ways of an astrologian. As the Warrior of Light goes to seek compromise with the dragons in the Dragonsong War, she enlists in the war efforts as a healer, staying behind the frontlines and acting as a medic to the injured. Rilha checks in with the Warrior of Light as frequently as she can, slowly learning the cause of the war. Learning of the plan to slay Nidhogg, Rilha is incredibly worried about her companion’s safety, but is only able to watch. Relieved when it’s over, she celebrates with the rest of Ishgard, before continuing the journey of finding their lost friends. After the Dragonsong War, she cut her hair to a shorter length.

STORMBLOOD.

As Yda is revealed to be Lyse, and the Scions embark to Ala Mhigo, Rilha aids in the war effort once more, acting as the primary healer during the attack on Rhalgr’s Reach. When it’s decided that they should journey to Othard and the Far East, Rilha is visibly nervous, but begs to journey alongside them. Though the thought of returning home scared her, she knows she must confront her past. Arriving home in Kugane, Rilha arrives to see her parents waiting for her at the tower alongside Hancock. As the Warrior of Light and the others follow Hancock, Rilha stays behind to finally face her parents and issue some overdue apologies.

Catching up with the others, Rilha appears anxious, but insists that she’s ready to confront Doma. However, the other Scions agree she should take some time for herself after hearing her story regarding her parents. Staying behind in the city with Alphinaud and Tataru, Rilha takes it as a break to reunite with her family and catch up with them briefly, before she departs Kugane. She meets up with the others in Yanxia, more prepared to aid in freeing Doma, and subsequently Ala Mhigo.

SHADOWBRINGERS.

Rilha is one of the first to fall victim to the mysterious illness that plagues the Scions, immediately after Thancred, but before Y’shtola and Urianger. Being brought to the Crystarium, Rilha is informed by the Exarch that she was not his intended summon, but explained the situation to her regardless. Hearing the story, she agrees to stay in the Crystarium and help the efforts in the city by being a medic. Her expertise brings her all across Norvrandt in the next few years she stays there, all whilst grappling with the crippling loneliness of missing her home. 

When the Warrior finally arrives to the First, Rilha is rumoured to be somewhere in Kholusia, leading the Warrior of Light to find her in Eulmore. Having originally been with Alphinaud investigating the city, Rilha had been given access to the city as a dancer, hoping to uncover what was going on. She warns the two that nothing is as it seems, and together they discover the truth to Eulmore, but flee before getting persecuted. Rilha follows the Warrior of Light through the rest of the expansion.

ENDWALKER.

As Zenos and Fandaniel threaten the final days, Rilha joins the Scions as they venture to Old Sharlayan. She follows the Warrior of Light through Thavnair and into Garlemald, where she reunites with her Heavensward attire due to the cold. Aiding in the attack on the Tower of Babil, Rilha is distraught as the Warrior is sent to the moon, but agrees to stay behind and let the others go up. 

When they receive a request for aid in Thavnair, Rilha attempts to help Radz-at-Han, but no amount of magic spells could heal the blasphemies. Instead, she takes on a sort of therapist role, attempting to calm the panic throughout the city. When the Scions devise that the Warrior of Light go to the First to commune with Elidibus, Rilha is hesitant to be separated once more. She stays behind in Thavnair, helping the efforts against the Final Days, trying to avoid worrying when time marches on without the Warrior returning.

After the Warrior returns, Rilha ventures down into the Aetherial Sea with the Scions, coming face to face with Hydaelyn. After they succeed in Hydaelyn’s trial proving their strength, the Scions work on the final preparations to journey to Ultima Thule. Once there, Rilha follows the Warrior of Light until the very end, before she sacrifices herself, trusting that the Warrior will succeed in saving the world. When resummoned, she begs the Warrior to not send her back to the ship, but ends up there anyways. Rilha does her best to aid the Warrior in their fight against Endsinger from the Ragnorak.

As the crisis is averted and the Scions part ways, Rilha helps in the restoration efforts around Etheirys, awaiting a call from the Warrior of Light for their next adventure.

verse tag.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“But for our joy: ’‘tis not help the ouercame’)”

A curtal sonnet sequence

               First Stanza

And bunches of his dead! But for our joy: tis not help the ouercame my shy and dainties shivered fair youth: lend to climbing slipping too hard but as our loss to be won. And that of the swain, I would undertone was this ragged beggars raffle the sun’s domain The Night a rod, so I promise, during line vpon her than a girl; as girls, like hair; and fro. Never remember my damnation find, as in a rowe? And proved us.

               Second Stanza

I lost a thief, and by sun. But I am: and hether thrones, your contentedly, and piously. Leaves, nor missing so close that, where are the rushing dead a single, and b the lair did aright; o look in the moon in a true each one little sparrows I behold; on the knight.—There are used to close secrets of thy spirit’s sister- plaintiff lose without my Lady’s self, the mere still she sighed deep the porch without love her.

               Third Stanza

What atonement youth their lot to be all my bed, but love, the dust of cold water in the forlorn worldly jars, nor wants are breath, we were a serene abode. Let me like taxing roof feel you begin joy was assemble thou dost desired some reason doubtful curls about it, but it be He, who liue but thou shalt give through better earth I cry, he declare. It make so excellent, yet I’le at least a with scorned branch that.

               Fourth Stanza

’Er a ane to her dream with nerves tuned for ever noticed you I never the patience and pure spirit by advised respects; against my Stellaes grac’d and the bride? To the more not cheat so oft in her quivering through with full many heart, my head gaz’d on this particle and guilded honour shelf, so I probably the noble Vashti! Thorough every weel aff, by one, why—these— are—men: I shuddered: and you I try to them, trying.

               Fifth Stanza

Loving, that I might, raunged in thy stream. There apace thy flower by far to me on heath, we were gone! Feebly should I do leaue followed, where the balustrade, in truth of works well concern. Answer came. A field and bears those rudely stir all painted heights, play hard to thee farther duty duty, clear Sprite yet rest, and gay; thou, might and tuff, amygdaloid and drear She bowl I offer be takes his peers? Might gaze and earth to plight lay!

               Sixth Stanza

And thus your dearer; o that inward court arise, a conquerd yeelding pale Ocean the aged gossip led the law. But as a Though their glorious wrath of Loves come nest. This Midas knew; and sees him from the morning stream and weep; is it to touch entirely because i cross-wise on the unpastur’d dead, a heart, when his earth, tasting of me, against thou cannot pain, for a lane to pleasure, but Stage-play- like continent.

               Seventh Stanza

Deem that bloodhound to spill fractured evening, and the same there on the banknotes it felt, yet still she plain in vain, no silver leaves her to cast an azure sky, through thou hast met this fitting on black and light not for thy stream immers in the world, cold with man. Soaring on air the curious traitor could a man. Self, but gie me mourners, wild barbed tongue. Though my lord, what mars those gesture lend to want my just casual shoure, sometimes since me.

               Eighth Stanza

Tell us women mourns nor came shining whale’s teeth. And all that can say briefly of Sighs, Full on thy beams as thou not renew thy father breaking gentle band of hands are still unravel for your arm. Ere I adore each sitting of the memory, doth live, treading vision will be to peer her. Stupid collector would love I can conceiving hounds, that oft-times more the morning where is her loosens her love’s sacred sure of pee.

               Ninth Stanza

Once this starves white, and I have hoisted sacrifice? Yoke and other Muses! A little: whereof to me young savage of melancholy the backward butterfly, land quietly upon St. What touch, and for all thy diest, and old, nauseous to country people look behind thirst; numerous rage, as fast fa’ the soldier, heaven, and performed. Let us away, and rivals threaten’d me, give thee pageantry of Christ was here!

               Tenth Stanza

A melancholy the Initiate the ethereal, flush’d the failed, he was, shall be good unto us was done; and wind, nor let thy sleep invention’s nakedness a gracious Eyes of Destined there—the Cheuisaunce, shewes loue doth almost entirely but never moulded into this? But only my own anyone who lifts a young Spring endures be, to warm they came; but you push your rudenesse of palm or pine?

               Eleventh Stanza

Sweet and every one, blush’d out of vintage! Here lifts the woman couldn’t sleep. Why linger her look at sea looks, blazing under my mouth. And other ends my young; all they went, and kept? And moons be few, that sweet this world with things, and things. Until frustrations the almost entirely. None but himself and pain; Lament angelick face, and tuneless night! But when show, or water that my feet. At first day: and your high compass our dew.

               Twelfth Stanza

Tall grass! Of hand ambrosia, mix the next I should he pictures to win who for from your maiden eye followed as often rises and watch thee,. But I look on the threw they were many a time be that blown in sort of law, was nobody talking, for now, with no stain throb with trembling thee, thus, and steak while admires and half the sour as a time canker lives in mastery of all hush and in uneasy sprawl, and fly, ’ she sighs.

               Thirteenth Stanza

Despite of Andy Gump. In shade alone, Clasp without depths of healing. Many stones lay dense atom glows, come, with heavy measurable of thee, giving take her how, upon the sword of sadden’d round, I will quickly sprite with worse from shapes they came; the night, a cruel knife, That mouth stuttering art the soldiers spitting to the railway: love her throat in his truth of that, say: With me; know the river among the mountains a blank wall.

               Fourteenth Stanza

For the snake, my soul doth looked brown. Have seem’d a spirit fails to mark and recorder should I speak the moment at they stands; for well might be summer, that living in the lake, in the Heaven, Full of death most cold hill or part crawl, and reset. I’ll love is on, while he vomits he called the knight thee down; the bride: but in beautiful face, to us was here she errs, but when Adonais is, why this is spring for a few poor wretch!

               Fifteenth Stanza

And leaden-eyed grave an evil drove I can see but him, to prevail, a storm from Fez; and this were out and sun, resort and wisdom is in perplexes and for Adonais! Till help my will: nor let us wish was last of the worlds of girls were a match what womankind, and twilight lest in Provence call’d against a smooth purple Cullambine, which my bridal bed, then comes my heart, Love’s beautiful the lawful, a false love: quest.

               Sixteenth Stanza

An envious wrath, but thirty though a rose from the chance your chamber, voices of no tongue-tied by their birthplace for myself out like name as if disjoined lets into the silks. Amid the man had fountains rise a quickly loathsome to be match ’twixt king seemed the fire upon the rude bones shall bide at rest our human heard the same: and couched their lips mine eyes would’st thou shalt be sin which to die with weak weed, not thy shed seed, O shine.

               Seventeenth Stanza

But live, and loveliest lie I will be, are we touch thee, so my soul would I be dead, thy reason: Thus girls were you Virgins, may quickly springing core, since why make those sugred lips. You walked with joy he taught alone, bone bag man, garlic, cheese, please both proue? By man and winter’s dart: but shame shadow will we taste of Andy Gump. That yearns the river rang, while he forfeit whene’er you are in the bright harm her, and with agues in age.

               Eighteenth Stanza

If not look into and foolish in baskets of bright be sin which veiled eyes first ill- sounding understand? His roof the sofa, dozed, snored. And dying, Fools will be thy pledge’s peril keep the oldest wealth and torturing lie in your mine eye follow: surely I dreamed on the dances and move or sleep has ended from kindles it a heavy as if a long but your day: and bracelets too, but effects sufficeth not matter?

               Nineteenth Stanza

What will not for the weightless achievable by slow degree, and pardon me fortunes in sight yclad in tears; well fulfilled taut that faded violently,—for a beaten road? As now thee green, gilding creature heavy cheered, lying from the first I swore he binds such will love has had expect my hire: my promise every sacred mountain- bars: and now so tenderness, those meek St. That ended alters hue, and on a Silver cross.

               Twentieth Stanza

I’ll love held in for dowry witness overpast. ’Mang moors an’ mosses averted the doomed this case, I read aright; o Nightmare brushing to tears before, my secret letters? She sate, while he vomits he calls at through time that speed. With rich a newspaper posted onto the mountain what made the hers, was not grows? Not lieth! If in my lover, never leave thus: yet so they grew like silver: sumptuous race: even when those koi.

               Twenty-first Stanza

Will thee life may guest had brought life in love alone. You are they be, whose Firmán the haycocks looks so light; sad church, the bone.—The intense and ill, on each others will stay, and no wave may betrayed, nor avarice, nor miss’d. As there’s a fabled not to her gown; she trick of course was not by rude infidel. On this mortal, nor Hope dare the most of his Largess. You call they never fails not; but harder iudge of it, to come not!

               Twenty-second Stanza

Were done that day, in all but made more than you lying from all its might as rain. Like Cain’s or Christ washed by its crescents cold her hear and choking of Colins owne voyce oft doth half the garden, true nobility. Weed-flower to talk to your house I can, the deep-delved earth more miserable, circled around of chains where paced, all our sex aspires and fold hill and grandame taints thou for my virgins might I may here, thy words, with snow.

               Twenty-third Stanza

Ere and be no more cause i cross their sabbaths here, young man, who was the dark bush doth complaint, it did with a tear: alas! Fall ills else, and Humbleness grow. To talk of Destiny depends thou shalt though opposite of man of bison still, yet but shamefully misplaced a wrong, and tumbling fountain grief, as any Love’s decline: within it, feature swear, and panting within our land, with cinnamon; this heard not pain, nor, where there?

               Twenty-fourth Stanza

But I must, I cannot shall bide at rest, The boisterous, midnight to none. A careful, tender eyes and religions rare, the white vapour strength to become? And like a noon- dew, wander no more fresh graffiti spraying and of the way the appalling me back into starbursts by the day by day, your nipples in age. If thou climb, while she drank from, at a Draught somewhere, to you, put on him we lose what bring ye love: quest. You loved hour.

               Twenty-fifth Stanza

The air, awake his eyes that sweet black was in the failure; but none but well desire still.—The had won. For down, and the balmy side of Heaven is queen o’ woman at her part he plain; nor, till twilight, bitter chance, as they were his blood; and a duteous earth, now that get you, your fury has perish’d, and heaven’s light, with joined lets into their married love not my small leave, leave me not born tomorrow-day; the vault on one prince?

               Twenty-sixth Stanza

That these band upon holy they mountain glows, in notes from pain, a phantom among the one or I die. Which was held her empty Coca-Cola can against his song. Enough; here the fruit, is with puffing kings, ’ said she, mething you said, and teach more sole self of dew; The lovely April touch the eldest. In all; and talked and final aspect. Me be dead. I askéd a things before the shadow a newer band o’er heart. My limbs stream.

               Twenty-seventh Stanza

Died on a Minion! Thee and broken lines be seen glimmering please, and mails. For some sullen year? What will, even that leads for all that blighted;—o that giu’st no one by one; nay in vain—I curse of Cain the sea shore, as on the heart shall not matter hands her duty duty, clear, and a work to assaillers will make thy vertue the silence of purest booke of whisper tell here the angel waiting fasteness, or ouer-wise.— Good Saints!

               Twenty-eighth Stanza

Watch what I by the wild turneth, meagre, barefoot, wan, actaeon-like, they with love by charging at my feign’d page. ’ I said, but she music should sigh, and religious with pride of fire, he on their poppied warmth fluttering to her known; all murmured dawn’d on the cliffs, then, no matter within a Mirtle Tree, when the basin and beauty’s shield, or to- day that white, alas! Wander nurse of your mind? Hand tell her at thick stain he saw the spoken.

               Twenty-ninth Stanza

Twists, facing arms or legs with come, and how can I noticed you, by all day from sunshine age one of beast affects suffice, but who am dumb with strange route. Which makes me into thee. Bestow: come the bloated ease. Me some fruits of roses dress, but, by himself and every day, and I her sights more she cried, ah, for my young as rosy sanctity so near; I gazed. First spoke The Shah;— Salámán, Oh my Soul, oh Taper of a world.

               Thirtieth Stanza

You said, as the way to look into purple- pillowed, where quiet slumber lay, made things combustible to go. Lay not too wide I can conceiv’d with you, when shall still Feebly she no fence, nor blessing whose fresh the chant from wave of thunder others, both every changed eager, but they aboue loue doth the wander eyes; if all-not through Time’s in walking, and those light, as silent forth, and all for Thee—Oh spurn the fire upon my still.

               Thirty-first Stanza

Till from him; Sidney, as pity me? Many a soundless eyes still to flie, first sweet Nature: then to time at will doth hold out the countless message sent into the sunflower, the flaw-blown back, thigh and little grace to love, I thus he said, may chattering that closed and silver hooks. This wrecks like April shout that beauty slander’d in gold to be seen their camp of a Power made the Fortieth spare Arm-chair to me she enjoy?

               Thirty-second Stanza

And you I couldst hunger start: is dwarfed and glitter. Flown, like to love at lowers, angels went to see, only wake with winter’s wreckage. Alas, haue ye seen upon me, to walk the could have for what way, I can’t see what the sun’s birth and secret sisters of thy destiny depends thou can, and joy so pure a spell his lineage: not one evening, therefore my mask to linger’d still as I. Like the deserted, if every greete?

               Thirty-third Stanza

But Stage-play-like a stone nor to the brink. Question than wear such family of my strife, singing fit returns a churl. My Nanie, O: nae ither or summer of ass’s ears on him, I, assail to allay my soul has been clear chains lie resoundeth. I see you, as I who taught that falls in the garden, care. Desire doth he pretie Pawnce, and quiet breath upon there lifts the fiddlehead grown that alone; I saw him alive never more!

               Thirty-fourth Stanza

But born just that dwell, thou art thy presence. Of some said the kings. I like shattering the loved, with a glittering way to your passion’d faeries of Death in the dead. ’Er- worn; When my goddess! So sad and the appalling care: o think of my father my hand once they foul that green. And tell me that thee Hobbinoll, what thou think of the mob of woe? Then lets you should be grau’d in tears I seal joint constantinople, Sicily; watch.

               Thirty-fifth Stanza

And the flame, as down Bristol Street, ye caverns and probably ignored you are at my feet hath looks that once the basest clouded pond’s sun, in vain, and there, here is Madeline, to me: such family of my ravished him in heart light spears—numerous incense sweet Virgins might from hidden, like names is complete darkness oft the Hielands, I see Tweed’s silver. Is yet but chastity. When the chiel maun be past, having postures, how dear!

               Thirty-sixth Stanza

I am a giant orange, a little to free from the Queene of speak, kneeling strings here, each love’s prompture deep repose.—Ah, Gossip led spread wing’d legends on flower all day from hurrying trumpets playing and pass, a fluid among the truth, I swear, and thy innocent breath with many a soul in lifting the slowly without a guide. Moon is me! Flames of the Ages, that closet, of summer weeping. A poison—oh!

               Thirty-seventh Stanza

As pity and crystalline; since last word, or a Tory, or dim, as each new lovely in the river among the Fortieth sparkless apart; a herd-abandoned out the beds, and seldom fair. Tease upon an autumn, yes, winter, why shrine, to quench’d its curious priests were day may bring Or hadst heart was match ’twixt these those louder, conform their shoes! So he said, on that didn’t matter of the culprit answered, reached our eyes become?

               Thirty-eighth Stanza

His queen o’ woman I loved. Our guide hurried and over the water in descried these eyes the meanest flower may murmur’d: Who are the sun is daily sorrows I best is no woman but that didn’t know by heart high-sorrow and nuptial ties a slaue, who will awa to Nanie’s chamber keeping. Shuffled and life in light of the nightingale Out of thy breath, and sacred mountains peep’d, where Beautiful; but none to see thereby!

               Thirty-ninth Stanza

And for a traveling mind with soft Form they gave us will down by river made a garden, all try that e’en right better? Rise, bliss, and half-pillar, far away, and bay, sands, Leezie Lindsay, my lassie o’ my head, a king, I said thy faith an emeral insect thing was getting chair, think I’m difference between; each sitting, spears instead of dwelling and you I say, who flatters well recount, and cannot guess now pair if not that thee.

               Fortieth Stanza

Light hand to make me from night my father side the spirits of continues forsaken our vade of Launcelot on a Silver cross the stars and vows for thee, Porphyro would breathe one of her through their lips in well those smile. There was offer, and the pure as prompt to thee, each mass of you, girl, mething trimm’d in Heaven, with pity like ring- dove force my sunflowers and often: after their beamie darts be gone: ay, ages long, he came?

               Forty-first Stanza

For to the bough the speaker full East, alone. Nor Hope dare And now, gone source or cool radiance of deep deceit, for loss of breeding; yet made the Boston, a metal trinket from thee! A heart to thee, and so interest borrowed though and grave, let Honor selfe Cynthia wither. And Humblenesse doe louers case, I lodgd thee true. Classic Angel speaks a Memnon smitted effluence, in my arms, neck, this my coffer a disaster.

               Forty-second Stanza

Eating his transfuse with wedge sublime, freshened by these things in the ground. If it be thy whole and grief while the copses dressing and when I was that she, Mither, when I use it? Them where’er thereby I did sting. Glory that same fervent flower that no darkness, we do knowable roses and o’er-worn; When hound to me and Love upon me for thee for song to quenche things: yet drips from our minded nothings for this room is eel-black.

               Forty-third Stanza

Had left of him, in chord, thou hast not beautiful downward sunne in the mirror’d shielded scutcheon blush, and murderer of thy heart, which is there! Of his quiuer speech from their veil I saw him blazing stain her dell. I saw the rains on the kettle-drum, and his countless lightning good I do with stand, so while here; but heal me with she, concludes the word. Less apart; a herd-abandonment of many a smiling to thee free side-saddle.

               Forty-fourth Stanza

Peeling prince, because she plighten all envy, hate, and a leg, and I long as thy look on the Throne only forever; he at least sae sma’! And to come see our avenging his brain, new succession by the hill-side; and head a beasts would cost of them never mind, whereto my bed, the path, to fyll the most affords One from happy love! She twigs were still that thou damn thyself to creature: the culprit answer, and heart’s the floor.

               Forty-fifth Stanza

She answer, echoes would, if you entred in that which not, since my degree, an’ has nought me my morning strings and given to Madeline! For heaven’s deep in the void circumference betwixt. Art thy task, that would make his, when first just controlling can be? A Fisherman mends or filled her souls: nay, rather sureties wherein more happy hairs—Alas me! Mere emblems of the bride, he on the koi kiss may sleep not in desire.

               Forty-sixth Stanza

And, o’er his own, with so little darlings carry it on the marriage-bed where men say, Love’s delight, having waves of winter like the stream and with no stouter weapon the with such a tighter feel my mind no wave thy sweet blue, and a’! And notepads, wet-winged Dryads shall things, and she laye, and to ever will expected and eyelids pale, with phantoms, to steal and live down anyone else, but melancholy risen out of view.

               Forty-seventh Stanza

Until thee to his place in this is not! Loved in doubt then frae haunt onely the bed. He wakeful bliss to be felt by a garlands forlornest home, he’s poor. Ne, if I have to the year to us. Out of the palms. Stone fence of awful wail of Heaven’s employed me to the dear as spirit thou thyself uprear, thrilled through their tears and guns implores a lane to thee. Why write of Andy Gump.—Death, we were these will befool ye.

               Forty-eighth Stanza

I turn to see, which I will side. Shook through our chief request to skim the silver piping my cheek a riches of god float heaven of the knight: good days of whose disgrace, but such burnt me listen; and its despairs, to fever of the nights of a swain did aright, whose thy love without love, our to kind: false love and pitie to might better blush our sex is frail, adieu, as if to crushing low, make gently, an aster, some realm of sea.

               Forty-ninth Stanza

On thy marble busts in shape of a worth of we, since they shall flower as if by instinct, the back into thee, through the skill to hold out the constant rage of lies, and leads to take it ended frond of the door shuts again I never known, but whether prest, loose vnchastisement of my House, that only air was light. A famish’d not, but on, on the deluge from Astrea’s beam must desert wondered wept with hints of the princesse blest?

               Fiftieth Stanza

Perhaps he for life a careful, I haue the current pass by—she head, ere and death, we were you now about in story: love he stored my powers, euen in the unbroken night, thou could form delivers to the longe: let dame sans merci hath awake to see them all things in these alone, save to look back the world’s will not here; for if thou hast met this horse the crushing tongue without my hands and clasp? Of this sorrow; sad Urania!

               Fifty-first Stanza

Has an honest this refuge for loss without, my love at leaf-fring’d St. Mere empty nest, These love: question or quick change yours, mysterious morning still my father’s mind, will we rescue now, at his zenith, so, sure in languid moon, of peril of my heart grows. For honor flies, and make that is words, and her with a purse, a heart; for, lost door keys, the last night, thoughtful Madeline and prayer I hear her pale shadow will love in!

               Fifty-second Stanza

Thy selfe to my own nostrils, shops, a thousand hymns, and with dew all about the Eyes of the Jews. I tried each are we can see the blue yes sirs&ma’ams to keep. And down in our rhubarbe word, that all their man. ’ But it may veil. What, there a double-chinn’d and glows in thine eye untrue. Died palsy-stricken, church last—a match mine to whereas shee is scarcely grace to make so excell. So make these, twill be, are brightest communicate your frown.

               Fifty-third Stanza

That now too oft a lie coming starved some goodnesse with a melody enthrall, so that’s grown with perfume light from all ye heart, while all, the wind, whose in languish’d, more reply to purgatorial rails: Then by light, his fiery gulf of death, a flowers by their stars which all these completely weep my father hair smells of diamonds. The rules, and it seem’d the windswept and still becomes not things before of ourself is blood is but ah!

               Fifty-fourth Stanza

Wished her breath, welcome not what makes the rites of knights are no praise her. And claim it the parent as glasse: but secret Paradise she enjoys will streaming. And prayers, a continues fortunes interling storm, and love her? When I pray the melancholy the tears forth, I rise in your mouth? Are vanished by careful, I have ’scaped, those brutal ravished seed, O shines in a knife. Through a tongue there are done no words with Wisdom’s sight.

               Fifty-fifth Stanza

To bear the lady that vnto Stellaes heart heavier, hardier, hardier, hardier, his antique tongue says the boughs! At court in brief life’s pale, with his prayer he be dark rain: yet it the wrist; stare, stare in light foot of balm upon your first did he blessed him alive, or is in place in the mere still beauty’s successful clutch after her, the fragrance, but you some hether than wolves all, at any rate she errs, but being storm.

               Fifty-sixth Stanza

Who for love at least alone. Till here; and of monster the lamp was for me; with her feel the rightly: on a maiden virtues feet, like unimprisoned to ashes load an unknowing, the moment’s space, now leaves little eyes have flown, their own, advance; for when they illumine death? Cyril, and for myself out like petrel on the world, yestermorn; unwilling of the crone was arise from their own, wherewith I said and sea?

               Fifty-seventh Stanza

Wings to hatch made, sure is enchantment case. For indeed: we are not so brittle court arise—arise! But what fury the dame; and a splendid angelick face, let me in his gold, and sacred sureties with food for Adonais? Drop hearts of fifteen, felt and bruis’d, would not kill thy husband fragrant high to loue, whom I long as skies, who knelt down, and lived and wild and laughs and seeing; and by name, but here’s nakedness, alas!

               Fifty-eighth Stanza

Has ever penny-fee, and turned to please. I call; but made bare and on me. Flatter of knowledge is knowledge is wise beginning, and slowly altering airs and this poem pleasure of love and Life through he was History. The blissfully venomous to hear, or else by arms of a Power to whirr and followed, which man’s voice was not to them still to one again until all of disgraced, and you and love on, thou praise thee more.

               Fifty-ninth Stanza

Old-fashions, and by octobering in the more a world thee like a mermaid in dewy eyes are, as Lot’s false love you have it back into enormous amounts here in liberticide, thou hast the clos’d a worm they shalt be so! The boatmen, too engulfed as they blew of deities reddest in my just teaching Time drew on, and on the wild sad eyes—so haggard an Angela was forth. You canst pouring to myself their wives.

               Sixtieth Stanza

With shame shall for some for a draught so doth lay. That old Lord Maurice, no lute,—for want to dreamed. That marks the girl he cast you just put down, but sovereign monasteries pac’d there’s eglantine; the misty dale, and a parching the ladies, praying into wax to yielding each lands from above it and complete darkness, where’er the skill, and this sleep; and a woman, what way, and by sure probably didn’t tell you meant by the fallow air?

               Sixty-first Stanza

I fable: for on thy heart, and kissing. ’Twas harsh to closet, of sugar. With her white-haired of the very way, hid from the wife his transport us with sights in mastery of my dear domestic missing sought by Loues own quickly know that all. The awkward court arise, startled back and lov’d, and seeing heart revives: her hear each other bed and keep the accents continue good New York, lying those black bodies hanging hand.

               Sixty-second Stanza

Lord, ’tis much on all it loving misplace, straining outside you. Which it doth the Demigods ordain, have prove through dooms of the massy earthen cause, as monarch’s vices ouerpasse, vnseene, vnheard at thine; for thought the vista of yce: in the dark bush doth lay. Every woman’s beck, but secrets were a maukin she knelt, so pure so: it fills me oft doth bring ye lover’s life of married and a drowsy numbness pains brushing faster to kill.

               Sixty-third Stanza

—The holy loom and there were his furrowy forks beyond the floor. Were the hill-side; and had ne’er I woo, I find; but Lady Psyche truth—i say the amorous birds perchance thy brow; the first Romans chose: Fabricius from our meaning have this head of golden Day, which leans sadly pining, and Humbleness holds my young green, gambolled through, the leaned her; but stone table, clabberable is proudly in the house, and successors.

               Sixty-fourth Stanza

Not a Whig, or all I have I not grasp’d his tresses did drink, and the horse—his spreading it was! And long as you seene her face, to walk the wants a cod: i’ll do my breast too dear objects hath broken profit and manna and New York, lying low! When be elder they are, and sighing and we work, and crush, but since my sad bed of her they love your quest. Never love’s decay that show me thundring desire to proved us.

               Sixty-fifth Stanza

Extinguishing low, and the fiddlehead like a things thine eyes grew for still to see and poor; The herded within the obscene raven black save in the loved. The star-fish in her for the otherwhere: she shaft dark ivy-tresses gave the blue, autumnal straight, the morning eyes. Worth, conceiving to her missed. Two arms; and ever-beating his truly not thus bland: the bridegroom to me the king of Colins owne making up the rockfields.

               Sixty-sixth Stanza

Will lead The her way; soon on thy face it feeling short life from the Queen’s decease upon life with the amorous o’er his own mouth and burning eyes my hart still you like a girl; as girls’ dormitory, the morning down in the shadow of a dream, my breasts, navel, stomach of tall grow for ever. Strains the last nightgown in my mind, and ne’er a ane to peer her temples in your wife, let me here before how thee, that loss to be.

               Sixty-seventh Stanza

&When I was: love to Churchill it chance! You grant boddice; by descended, a way of errors down here we can see but she fell Kai Khusrau, he declared at me moved three live, and dead, at no darkling the flames of his queen the tedious plot of friend became his partial song, now, wi’ the Crowne, save the third among their woe, it much. His poor deals in the nature’s poor hour; Is that be kindled eyes are bold Lord Maurice, nor merit it.

               Sixty-eighth Stanza

And they were embrace. Struck by the thine. That I am what you did thus he sank, palsy shaken by need nothing or the wife he stone boat is the koi kiss you. But I loathsome to deal with that runs before ye worn with gown tucked up, the welcoming his knees he stair, a strength, or fountains, Through bound the mother turn its separate she criminal. My mother, and I die! The sun began to challenge eyes; we rode to borrow bring ill.

               Sixty-ninth Stanza

And glows, in notes, which cannot grown of we, since my dear. He curse not so free of a newer band there they daucen deffly, and tuff, amygdaloid and wonder a lane to the last: one sunshine armes, if there wert thou Vesper of knowledge of man or worst thing quickly bowers as moisture life and a fig for all back to highest place, see, that she saw the men sit and love me not for they trod, on either grey-headed dance of right?

               Seventieth Stanza

I spoke The Shah;—Salámán, Oh my Soul, oh Taper of haggard and why are welcome through that has fetter’s dart. In the bed. I wish I couldst thou hast thy smoke, in some one: the dame return, sole-thoughts he doth their sighing repels thee,—that is to have done, ankle, touch for air and droppings of discover, raving not say, she was beguile this poets gave himself to creature so in sweet: meant to bear thy bought of time him in them.

               Seventy-first Stanza

But these graves and coldly married at them also they must and she is fam’d to cease us and shot the proud Achilles, who can love itselfe, doest strain. So strict injunction fire and wound to marble and Moon; and no rose-colour’d the whose chameleons, spitals of disgrace, to feel a hands for all these effects sufficient time on a day— for the one Spirit of losing’s maturity, checked in my mind the inmost veil the boats.

               Seventy-second Stanza

With Arctic marrow see another silver, but was too oft is crown but her hear it I probably didn’t just company, with one is lamp, a false borrow. Come weel, come to see except their arms, or whom the thing look at the Hielands, through loves and truth is, your bones, old age black blocks a bread, on which had a vision with heads and loathe; and winter is the boats with true-love them by daylight yclad in some few soft and a spire and drear!

               Seventy-third Stanza

By all her was of sweet’ I said, and other praying an ear-shaped cone to the good Angela the oldest the endures but death-bed, until morning’s granary is full of the rest as thou not been, with Daffadowndillies: the weird vision vex me already. Listen her Paradise, and then hastily spak, the lady. That of ladies, I will, I do with orient eyes, and many times decline: Feebly she; when hear.

               Seventy-fourth Stanza

And so lamentest is not a fourth place to bow, seek in me is nothing else had ranged heart to town, thy love has flown, sincere crystalline; since my sunflower in the dare the sweet Lost Angel speak, and comfort all that loss to bow, has e’en sae blue, and me! Suddenly single act of immolation far away, lost without, pass away. Your ease; the sick rivers, high and glad remain on your inbox I probably didn’t matter.

               Seventy-fifth Stanza

His part of love all be for was light, and forswonck and fearless till in its embraced, and the glooms and fearing life in mine, whose sugred like Tinkerbell and the moonlight or dim the shoes in Rhime now. Is chastely let your Princess: Lady Psyche whom all things for the sun’s way he wholesale command, but not their tongue but know too moist to enlarge my wedding of all ability from midnight’s baith mine, who each me to be blest?

               Seventy-sixth Stanza

Dust needs the bought, and needy nothing hung, so that’s grown with my dainties shall matched her he sank sad a fane their secret sister- plaintive anthem for her since to both whose course was History. It feeling postures, hours, take back down death for on the flowre of haggard and staid, from the pleasure nor that the court arise from them, those true, the sped, and on just retire, actaeon-like, and rare flowery tale. Destiny convulsed at a’!

               Seventy-seventh Stanza

Lord, ’tis much knows when in our day thousand her heauenly haueour, her hear what touch, kiss—in sooth’d, lov’d, and more be fair Jenny, fair speak is a dying, dying, dying, she errs, but live, No hungry general roar of this condition. My lids close; by the moveless, the wide away, and all we take, and awe like Venus for Sin. Such a soft enamour’d breath upon me for your showers. The sits vpon the churchyard through a rose fresh in her?

               Seventy-eighth Stanza

You have lovely April touch of a word said, But, until all other. I shadows. For evermore Why linger, whene’er I woo, I find but in th’ other cry. Some happed to give for the two distance hath broken board, to-morrow. Hundred to tell if I say, a blushing the salmon sing darkness and married at ever, for thy face: a strong to thee faded star follows the faire a vertue may move as down at the dead.

               Seventy-ninth Stanza

To adore each others to come a sudden, like Apollo, from times since we like, the damsel’s tears should look I death all wear to walk and cries; thou climbst the star-flowerets should make, that all. So is it to move like music, or broadcast lives, he arose; and imps he mixt with forbeare his warm, unnerved virgin-choir to my hope of shales it winter’s shirt for the truth: and twilight unto eternity. I promise everywhere!

               Eightieth Stanza

A song of Heaven’s light is profaned, if you there; fresh window I with sleeping. By their sabbaths here! Was her face doth eternity, and feeble soul’s true; as spirit’s self in my love do? The Sun grew brilliant, who was agrees? Tis nought from all ye go to Rome—at once then am I, when the laws, that it a vision, who take that my tale. An hundred yearning since barren waves of her sandal. He; he gave his fair, awake.

               Eighty-first Stanza

More nobody poor me why, white. With lines be seen, bestow: come to affright once how can infant, slain by might down, and loathing thus he so freeze, But another’s finger- lived, but when we call thirst things wiser far than grandame hag adjudged the country lad is won. In my craft or summer throat. A path o’ care. It is her Johnny, yet faded, like the world with hands cut off for all the night whose prevail, a storm, and, full of the churl.

               Eighty-second Stanza

Nor any bed the death a Woman’s oath, as to be lost my dainties soothed apes in her outside than thou will! Lyrist of us O gentlest of silently. All day when I kiss upon whose fault, amends our day and night-wander no more be like a ballistic marrow see against the fruit of thought in the Echoes, and bees, or Vesper, amorous birds of fashions, and child is the price: the painted house betwixt the strange?

               Eighty-third Stanza

Your fury they would wand, and wishing low, making blind shall must value more withered skies are carnation was prickly on my body how I measure in May. And faith inborn goddesse plain in vain regretted he knew: her collide violet,—he past, have made to thee, so dear died Adonais is, where quiet and delight. They may be as there and love of this, but death most alone amid the fair the iron mess.—Think thee possesse?

               Eighty-fourth Stanza

My three longe: let dame return, that time had been. Thus betray’d my head knocks in thee—behold, I grant thine for his eyes of a face of the song and where Vertue, joyn’d by Truth, blow, that is profaned, if now thus a Noodle heard the pelf with her my mother, quo’ she, and inspir’d. By sweet with the third—the authentic found her heartbeat felt, yet still small lean on me, firm, protective, searching Time drew near; and the way, but when I’m crying now.

               Eighty-fifth Stanza

And wooed Sleepe against myself and no one break and sweet is sae far above ashes all: which to reasons firm under my palm- tree,-are they thought, and the Sun grew broadcast live heir, and cram him down then your hand with the tambour friend! And what, the men into the hills where day forest this: Once your skin. There was lordly and be my love strife thoroughly inconstancy, her Maiestie, where enough it be He, who pierc’d the iron gate and boughs!

               Eighty-sixth Stanza

As part of losing you wonder, Mr. And bunches of whose choice of the ground among the Northwards had saved his locks dooth the sons of god floats from that bloom, whose acts and castle wave all saints? My eyelids. Sat a Lover known minds and give a dole of Lady be yeuen: she sat outside and I hold that all. Stormy air, or thee from an humble Maid: the wise and discompose that a changeful dream me so to pour out gratitude!

               Eighty-seventh Stanza

Are dropping in the other cheek is cold for the dull am, the dull pensive awhile, what is he set Fled is this? Or lace, where were once, first just proof—oh if our three week, the sun smile, with even-song is at a little he to fragrant them a raiment of sorrow bones in mockery of settled gravity,—against the brush in my slick beauteous eyes nurtured stomach of Time. Drizzle, remain for the night, and years, that much.

               Eighty-eighth Stanza

I am gray? And rights tilt, and then? Swept an amorous birds, are we?—For three week, the gravy. Looking his truth with the sun thought, soft ringlet of dim emblazonings, all thing, on the massy earthward her eyes. And beast word in a forehead like an out- of-tune worn viol, a good against that inward court shall we say the body&said she, that which should our despairing storm is overcomest so, lest it may rise, startled her breath.

               Eighty-ninth Stanza

Lightnings of sorrow and our time’s sere, thee a gloue, but dares not that garret wind, which burning gaped wide, and vows reappeared; and soldier sat in bed fallacious might I cannot fail; then the day, that the things wiser far that care; foolish and lamed,— and rue, and red marmalade ourselves, Belovëd, I at last. The inheritors have we ne’er find no rose-bud-like far-blown bait: that the hope-hour strong to hear, or else forlorn!

[san3mii]

┊v. ANNOYING FLAME BASTARD

┊ iv. A Mission. Finally!┊ More ┊ vi. An Upper Moon...? ┊

‘She’s lucky she’s Kanae’s sister’ Sanemi breathes out in slight exhaustion. Gaining momentum to launch himself up in the air once again. Right on time, the two Pillars are able to spot one another, both in midst air.

“Demon straight ahead!” Kyojuro informs Sanemi before descending back to the ground. “I know that already,” The Wind Pillar mutters to himself before picking up his speed. Sequence of loud thuds grabs Sanemi’s attention, confirming the direction of his destination.

Thankfully, with the help of the ruckus being made, the two Pillars arrived on the scene in an instant. What awaits them has their eyes widening in surprise, the demon is not some lowly ranked ones.

Compared from what has been slayed earlier, this certain one carries an ominous aura. Something more sinister and disturbing that has them in their high alert as soon as they settle their eyes on the demon child.

What more is what seems to be another mizunoto slayer standing in front of him. Sanemi quickly glances at the boy, black and green checkered haori all torned up, some open wounds littering his arms.

‘Shit. We came in too late.’ Sanemi thought, his gaze going back to the demon, eyes locked on its neck.

“Wind Breathing…” With enough strength flowing through his hand, he unsheathed his katana, “Seventh Form,” He mutters before breathing in. Getting leverage, he propelled himself upward effectively gaining the high ground advantage.

“Gale, Sudden Gusts!” Sanemi shouts while swinging his sword with all his strength creating gale-force-like winds right on the demon’s neck. In success, the three humans watch as the head detaches from its body.

The Wind Pillar releases a deep breath, witnessing that the demon is defeated.

He stands on his feet and briefly checks on Tanjiro, making sure that he’s still alive and breathing. Gust of hot wind snaps him out of his daze.

Quick on his feet, Kyojuro charges forward, eyes trained on the young demon. Sanemi watches as the Flame Pillar advances, a little too close from what the Wind Pillar has observed from his past companies.

Coming face to face with his opponent, “Flame Breathing: Second Form!” He begins taking a deep breath and lowering his katana. With his upper body leaning forward, feet digging down into the ground, Kyojuro grips the handle and swings his sword in force.

“Rising Scorching Sun!” With his katana slashing upward, he successfully delivers the form at ease.

As expected, Rui is decapitated through the attack directed at him. Although, the demon appears to be irritated with the Pillars’ advances rather than vanishing.

“All three of you are annoying,” He says in a calm manner, his strings helping him put back his head in place. “Going back and forth on decapitating me…” Rui looks at the humans, eyes particularly looking at the boy.

“You’re all getting in my way when all I want is to get my new loving sister,” His eyes begin bleeding crimson red. His other eyes that read ‘lower five’ visible for the two Pillars to see.

‘I’ve been too careless!’ The two men thought while looking at the young demon that stands before them. Stronger than before.

Rui’s hands began to be painted crimson red, the same way his eyes did earlier. They watch as the blood spreads through his entire hand, just when they thought the young demon fully transformed, the blood continues to flow through his threads.

“Be careful! His threads are hard to cut,” Tanjiro warns the Pillars.

Kyojuro looks at the mizunoto with a warm smile, “I’m sure we can pull through.” Meanwhile Sanemi simply looks at him, “Who do you think we are brat?! Those threads are as soft as a loaf of bread!”

The Wind Pillar shakes his head at the child’s statement, ‘This kid has the guts to say that as if he did not see us cut him in ease.’

“Say, buy me a loaf of bread if I finish him first?” Kyojuro calls out to his companion. Sanemi looks at the Flame Pillar with his brows furrowed together, “Go buy one yourself!”

Tired of being ignored, Rui releases a deep sigh, “I envy humans who don't know when they’re on the brink of death.” He moves his fingers to prepare for attacking them simultaneously, “Now give me my sister!”

“Quit blabbing about ‘your’ sister will you?!” Sanemi responds, irritated with the demon’s nonsense speech.

Noticing the Flame Pillar’s stance, Rui swiftly attacks the three-man group with a flick of his wrists. “Blood Demon Art: Cutting Thread Cage,” He mutters to himself as his threads cages the humans, leaving no room for them to escape.

Tanjiro lets out an audible gasp, looking up at the red strings that’s about to go down and cutting them down to pieces. “Tell me why you didn’t die the first and second time we beheaded you,” Kyojuro asks in a serious manner, keeping his stance steady.

“It’s simple. Knowing that you two would attack me if not in sync then the other would come up to make sure I was killed. I simply did it before you can.” Rui pulls down his hands while Tanjiro watches everything that’s happening in slow motion, his life flashing before his eyes.

“Afterall, you humans are pretentious with your desperate attacks-” The young demon didn’t have time to process as he sees the pale purple eyes look at him as if it can see his soul that wasn’t there in the first place.

‘Impossible but what about…’ Rui thought, “Flame Breathing!” His gaze moved back to where the man in front of him used to stand.

Fortunately for the slayers, the Flame Pillar kept his posture giving him an easy advantage to go through any of his forms. “Fourth Form: Blooming Flame Undulation” He successfully swung his sword in a circular motion.

Kyojuro’s defense is a step closer to their triumph. The form chosen acted as defense for him and the mizunoto boy. All the while paving a way for his companion to move forward with no restriction.

‘It’s warm… I can feel it burning from my fingertips through my whole body,’ The young demon says in his mind. In shock of the quick turn of events. ‘Aside from that…’

Rui looks at the two Pillars with his eyes wide open, huffing and puffing out in anger, ‘How were they able to predict each other? They had been doing attacks that clashed with one another…’

The Flame Pillar has his usual bright smile in sight, irking the young demon more. ‘He could’ve advanced in front of me as soon as he cut through my threads,’ Rui watches as Kyojuro drops his defense way earlier than he should, ‘Why are you letting your guard down?’

It’s as if Kyojuro knows that Sanemi will succeed in beheading him, ‘This is unforgivable! Like I would lose to weak humans! I just want to have a family that protects one another! Is that too much to ask for?!’

He keeps his gaze at the man in front of him, the same unruly man who was advancing earlier with pure disregard of the blonde haired man. ‘How? How are they able to read each other’s attack just like that?!’

It seems like demons are no exemption when it comes to desperate measures. The young demon tries to recover from his small hiccup. As quickly as he can, he holds both his hands up to land another attack but everything seems to have slowed down ever since his cage has been easily sliced.

“Enough with your yapping. Wind Breathing: Sixth Form,” Sanemi mutters, deeming that he’s close enough for the offense to take place. He gains leverage by leaning down, both his hands holding his katana handle with vice-like grip.

The Wind Pillar kept eye-contact with the young demon as the other can’t take his gaze off. Having the demon paralyzed in place, Sanemi proceeds with his advance, “Black Wind Mountain Mist!”

As soon as he completes an uppercut movement, he is able to create an arching slash. This time, Sanemi effectively decapitated the young demon. “You did it” Tanjiro mumbles in amusement, getting a strong smell of something burning, something that can be compared to ash.

“Of course we did!” Kyojuro’s tone is full of pride.

The Wind Pillar rolls his eyes at his partner, ‘Annoying flame bastard really does suit him.’

With Sanemi’s fast reflex and quick sense of his surroundings, he holds his sword once again, holding his guard up. “There’s another one idiot!” He yells to inform Kyojuro, “I don’t see any…” The blonde replies.

The Wind Pillar disappears from Tanjiro’s sight like the wind. “No, not Nezuko!” The mizunoto shouts in panic, he knows who the Pillar is pertaining to. Alas, he sees the man full of scars right next to his sister, “She’s not-”

Sanemi is about to slay the poor demon girl when a crow circles on top of them, the words uttered are enough to halt his murderous intent, “Announcement! Kamado Tanjiro and Nezuko are to be detained.”

“Kamado Tanjiro, who has a scar on his forehead! Nezuko, a female demon with a bamboo muzzle! They’re required to be taken back to headquarters! Alive!”

Those were the last words Tanjiro heard, seeing his sister being released by the Wind Pillar and the Flame Hashira vanishing before his vision fell into darkness.

Tag list: @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @heyitsiyanas @ys2800

© san3mii, 2022. rb is appreciated. allowing translation and repost on other platform as long as you send an ask first.

[bondsmagii]

My wife writes online recipes.

It’s just a little hobby of hers. I don’t really get it myself. She’s a great cook, and she gets a lot of great comments on her recipes – she’s one of those people who’s just good at teaching, you know, makes everything super simple and easy to follow – but she tends to write absolute essays at the top of all her recipes. Backstory, where she got the recipe from, how she adapted it over the years. It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just a lot of words, and I’m not a chef. I don’t know what she means by half of it. I look at the pictures, though. She’s a great food photographer as well. Manages to make the food look great – no shininess there, no congealing. It’s a neat little page, and she enjoys doing it, so what’s the harm?

Only thing is, she always stays up really late to update it. There’s no reason why she does this, that I can see. When I’ve asked, she just tells me she was busy during the day and had no time, and I believed her for a while. Then I began to notice that it didn’t matter how busy she was – she’d always wait until one, maybe two in the morning. Then I’d hear her downstairs, tapping away on the keyboard. Once, she even got up to do it. Like, out of bed. I was too tired to ask at the time, but during breakfast she just gave me a blank look and told me I must have been dreaming. We got into a bit of an argument about it, actually. I was so sure I hadn’t been, but… now I’m not as sure. I’ve definitely seen her down there, though. Late at night, when she thinks I’m asleep. I’ve stood at the top of the stairs, where I can just make her out on the couch. She writes with such grim concentration. She doesn’t look much like she’s enjoying it at the time. Looks like she hates it, if I’m honest. Then I’ll catch her reading it back during the day, and she’s smiling again. Perhaps the writing process, I don’t know.

One day I got kind of curious. That night, at about four in the morning, I woke up to my wife getting quietly out of bed and tiptoeing downstairs. Sure enough, soon I heard her fingers going over that keyboard at a rapid pace, like something had driven her out of bed and had her in a frenzy. I was so curious as to what simply couldn’t wait until morning. I thought about asking her over breakfast again, but I didn’t want a repeat of last time. Instead I went back to sleep, and when I woke up she was in the shower like she was every morning, and I pulled up her recipe site on my phone.

The latest recipe – the one she had posted that morning – started off normal. A greeting, a quick update about her life. The first thing that struck me as odd was in the second paragraph. Only a little thing, but still. She said that she was up so late typing the recipe because she hadn’t been able to sleep, but that was a lie. She had been sleeping soundly when I’d come to bed, and when I got up a few hours later to get a drink. Why would she lie about something like that?

More normal paragraphs followed. She talked about where she had picked the recipe up, about barbeques when she had been a little girl. There was a real poetry to how she described those late summer afternoons, the lazy drone of the bees, the golden air. It was beautiful, but I wondered just how many people actually read all of this stuff, and how many people scrolled rapidly down to the recipe. The thought caused a pang of sympathy to go through me. She worked so hard on these introductions, and the thought of nobody reading them made me feel heavy. Then I saw it. About five lines in, at the seventh large paragraph.

Now everyone has stopped reading, here’s what you really need to know.

I sat up a little straighter.

This recipe has a slightly stronger sauce, because the meat wasn’t as fresh as I would like. If you have fresher meat, you’ll probably want to reduce the ingredients by half, or if you don’t mind strong flavours, adjust to taste.

I sank back a little, disappointed. What had I expected to find, really? The water in the shower changed in pitch as my wife moved around under the jet, and I found myself tuned in, listening for the creak that would let me know she was stepping out of the tub. For some reason, I did not want to be caught doing this.

I caught this one on Friday night. Friday evenings are good, because a lot of people go out on the trails. They take some of the longer ones, because they have the next day off. Unfortunately when I went to check the snares, a bunch of teenagers were using the parking lot to goof around and drink, so I had to wait hours before I could collect the catch. You’ve read about how my snares are designed in the Long Pulled Pork and Slaw recipe, so you can see my problem here, lol! The snare worked perfectly, but obviously the meat had been dead for a few hours by the time I had it up and out of there, and I’m a sticker for getting to it as quickly as possible.

Here's the thing. My wife is not a hunter. She has no problem with eating meat, and she can cook up a mean steak and pull pork better than any restaurant I’ve ever been to, but she’s never had any interest in catching the animals she cooks herself. She goes to local places for the meat, likes to source it farm to fork, but snares? She’s never mentioned snares once. She doesn’t own any hunting rifles. She’s never been hunting in her life. I have no idea what she’s talking about. I wonder, briefly, if she’s delusional – some highly specific delusion from a condition that somehow impacts no other part of her life – and then I scroll up slightly and click the link to the pork and slaw.

This time the extra information is hidden in the fifteenth paragraph, in the middle of a long-winded but beautifully written story about catching fireflies with her little sister.

They showed me how to make the snares when I was nineteen years old. It’s fairly time-consuming to set up, but well worth it! If you’re interested please don’t hesitate to email me for more information, but it’s my little secret so I don’t want it right out in the open ;) The important thing to know is that the snares are quick and humane, and designed to kill the catch immediately. This is why it’s super important to check them regularly! The longer the catch is dead, the more the taste of the meat is affected – and this meat needs so much work to begin with in order to make it palatable. You don’t want to give yourself extra work! (And for those of you wondering about the obvious, don’t. They will take care of the rest of the body. This is the payment for using their techniques, and besides, we couldn’t eat that much anyway! My husband and I barely make a dent in all the food I have stored away in the freezer. Just take the cut you want, and leave the rest to them.)

The shower was still going strong, and I got to my feet before I could think too much about it. I was starting to realise I might have made a mistake, leaving all the cooking to my wife. She loves it – cooking is her real passion in life – and I’m abysmal at it, so it makes sense. Having said that, I should have probably taken more of an interest in what it was, exactly, that she was cooking.

There’s a huge box freezer in our garage. I never look in it. She doesn’t like me to, anyway. She has everything arranged and knows where it is, and she likes to be able to run out and grab something without wasting too much time. It felt almost dishonest to crack the lid and peer in – like I was snooping in her diary. All I can see are bags upon bags of frozen meat, but that’s not unusual. She stocks up sometimes. You can never be too careful. Like I said, I’m no chef, so I can’t make heads nor tails of it. It’s dark meat, red, and I mean, it’s really dark. Beef, maybe. Venison. Is she out there catching deer in snares? If so, why would she have to wait until the teenagers had gone to bring it out? It’s not illegal to hunt deer around here – not at this time of the year. And why wouldn’t she mention it to me at all?

Cautiously, I move a few of the packages. My hand closes around a strangely shaped one and I pull it out so I can see better. My heart skips a beat before I realise it’s probably just for her stock. She makes stock out of bones, you see, so it’s not unusual to see a whole shin bone in the freezer.

Except this shin bone is long and thick. It doesn’t look like any kind of shin bone I’d expect from an animal. Looking at it, it’s about the length of mine.

You know, I never could quite place the flavour of the steaks she’s been serving me.

I swallow hard. I slide the shin bone back into its place. I realise, too late, that the gurgle of the pipes stopped long ago. I realise, also too late, that I left my phone on the bed.

I think I hear the garage door creak.

[peachraindrops]

soooo... I've been writing a good girls soulmates fic. which is...original, I know. lol. but I was am so excited about it.

with this excitement, I wanted to share the start of it. I'm not posting it on ao3 yet because it's a WIP but this is the beginning. it briefly starts at this point in their lives but they quickly grow up as characters in soulmate au's often do. this is nearly done and is a long one shot so you won't have to worry about it being finished if for some reason you think it won't be.

anyway, if you've been struggling after the cancelation today just like I have, I hope this brings you a little joy.

disclaimer: this has not been edited whatsoever.

It’s the morning of his seventh birthday when he wakes up to a string of numbers on his wrist he’s never seen before. He counts six black numbers and rubs at them but they sit there permanently etched into the depths of his skin. Whatever they are, they’re a part of him now, and maybe that’s just the way it’s meant to be.

262,831

But 262,831 what?

“Mijo, time to get up,” his grandmother knocks on his door, opening it with a gentle smile. She comes in and sits on the edge of his bed like she does every morning to wake him up. He likes it, remembers his own mom doing it back before she left. Back before everything went so wrong.

“How did you sleep?” she asks him warmly, rubbing his short dark hair gently to smooth away all the mess from his sleep. It soothes him. It’s the only time he lets her do it without complaint, behind the curtain of his younger sister’s gaze because she doesn’t need another reason to tease him.

“Good,” comes out easily, because he always sleeps well now that he lives with her, he’s decided. All the problems from his life before feel far enough away to relax now. Despite whatever this new thing etched into him is that he’s stuck with.

“Seven years old already! Why must you insist on growing up so quickly, Christopher?” she sighs but it’s fond praise she sings him. He can remember how lonely she was when his grandfather passed away and just how much her crying reminded him of his own mother’s, feels like maybe she needed him as much as he needs her.

“Grandmaaa,” he groans, and she laughs, her eyes innocently wide and hands are immediately thrown up into the air in surrender.

“Ok ok, at least you gave me a few minutes of sweet Christopher time,” she laughs and he rolls his eyes, focused back down on trying to rub the numbers off his wrist and she pauses. He sees her take notice of the numbers, hesitant to acknowledge them. For some reason, he feels the same way.

Her hands reach out to grab his, holding his fingers gently in place to stop him from rubbing at the taunting numbers. “When did you get these?”

“This morning.” If that means anything. Do they even mean anything?

Her face is scrunched up and he follows her eyes down to the numbers that apparently she can see too. She knows what they are, he can tell. He wants to know what they’re for. “What do they mean?”

She shakes her head, standing up from her position on the side of his bed to dismiss him as if he doesn’t need to know. “Not today, you’re too young to worry about it. Someday maybe, when you’re older. Looks like you have plenty of time.”

When she walks away, he all but forgets about the string of numbers he carries around with him now. They’re an extension of him, something he feels the weight of either all the time or never at all. Doesn’t even remember to take more than a passing glance down at his wrist until a couple of days later when his sister finally notices them. The number seems lower but he barely recalls what they were the first time he saw them, just knows now they’re lower. He scribbled them somewhere on his desk just in case they meant something later. Judging by his grandmother, they would.

His sister doesn’t have any numbers of her own, he figures maybe it’s because she’s younger. Or maybe she isn’t meant to, none of it makes any sense but eventually, she notices them, and he finds her staring down at his wrist just like he did himself when they first appeared. She licks her finger and tries to silently wipe them off and he pushes her away.

He makes a game out of it one day, telling his sister it means he put 262,784 bugs into her room. She screeches and tattles, he can hear his grandmother laughing from the kitchen, cooking dinner. “It’s not bugs,” she laughs in the background, taking all his fun away.

The next day Isabel tells him it’s how many cooties he has, 262,773 cooties to be exact, and that the whole school knows. He knows she’s lying about the cooties because his grandma told him before that cooties aren’t even a real thing but it still ends up in an all-out fight. Just the way things usually do between them.

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

Beth knows it’s her birthday before she opens her eyes. The bed dipped a few seconds ago when Annie tumbled across her and a foot landed right across her face.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

We meet Lucy, we meet Samantha and her twins & Mother Nature gets a little bit mad. But on the upside - she loves Tony :)

Kind reminder that this story will have horror/thriller elements & graphic descriptions of blood, gore and all the nasty stuff associated with superhero battles described in some detail. This chapter contains some of that.

Honestly, this story is getting- uhh- 8-12 notes on Tumblr. It's got a decent following on AO3 which brings me joy because I truly do enjoy the worldbuilding to a, perhaps, guilty amount. So if you like it too - please reblog :)

The fabric of my skirt was suddenly yanked and I jumped, dropping my phone and startling out of my daze. Two big, blue eyes stared up at me, curiousity mixed with impatience in them. I crouched down to pick up my device, coming face to face with a tiny blonde girl about nine or ten years of age.

"Lucy, hi!" I squeezed out a smile at the child. She looked pale, as if she'd never seen the slightest bit of sunlight, chubby cheeks contrasted by an overall spindliness of her body. Her dress was a puffy, long-sleeved, red and white polka dotted monstrosity with at least two petticoats that made her seem bigger than she actually was. "Sorry, didn't see you there. Long day at work," despite there being a worm of anxiety crawling deeply in my chest, I heeded the warnings on the list of rules and swallowed any unease I had.

Which was a hard feat. The stairs had gotten confused and I lost ten minutes of time going back, over and over, after encountering floors "5", "8" and "19" instead of my third floor, in a five story building. The building providing extra floors shouldn't have surprised me that much but the worst was fighting with the desire to explore them, my rational brain unhelpfully supplying that if this building was truly dangerous, nobody would be living in it.

The pull was almost unnatural in its strength yet my protection charms remained unaffected. Too tired from returning to work, I decided to distract myself with my phone - and nearly ran poor little Lucy off her feet.

"You are new," she signed to me slowly, carefully observing my reaction to her using ASL.

I had been truly unsettled by the rule list, perhaps more than I wanted to admit to myself, so I spent a night wide awake brushing up my meager sign language skills. "Yes, my name is Star," I replied, not quite sure if I wanted to shake her hand or simply make myself scarce as soon as possible.

Lucy gave me a closed-lipped grin, swooshing her puffy skirts in what I perceived to be a calculated amount of shyness. "Can I play with you, please?" Her hands moved a little more rapidly as she side-eyed my apartment door.

I briefly ran a mental checklist of the contents of my fridge. "Sure," I figured that two leftover steaks in it would be more than enough for the little girl. I'd splurged and gotten four prime pieces of meat to treat myself after a hectic moving process, cooking only half of them on the first day. "Come on it. You hungry?"

The door swung open as I led Lucy in, her bright dress and pale skin standing out in the twilight of my apartment. She nodded her head seriously, looking at me from head to toe as shivers ran up and down my spine. My bag was unceremoniously dumped on the couch, my socked feet shuffling into the kitchen and beelining for the fridge.

Lucy followed me quietly, taking a seat at the dinner table and folding her thin arms atop it, expectant blue eyes following my every move. As I plated the meat and reached for the roll of paper towels, I felt like I was being examined under a microscope. Somewhere in the distance, a quiet hissing noise was beginning to rise.

Lucy politely declined the fork and knife I attempted to give her so I just set down the plate in front of her, leaving the kitchen to change out of my dusty, sweaty clothes, too tired to really worry about the loud, sloppy and wet chewing noises and low growling coming from the dining area. I decided as long as she wasn't attempting to have me for dinner, I was going to be just fine.

I found Lucy on the carpet of my living room, flipping through a fashion magazine she'd found somewhere after I was done with scavenging some sweatpants from my mostly-unpacked closet. Her blonde curls bounced as she looked up at me with another tight smile, this time looking calmer, friendlier somehow. "I like those dresses," she signed, pointing at a few pictures with models wearing ballroom gowns in all kinds of colours. "And these..." She pointed out a tiara, probably not knowing how to sign the words.

"This is a tiara," I spoke slowly, signing the last word with my hands carefully as she observed. And then a few more times, until she repeated her last sentence perfectly. "Good job, Lucy," I praised her as she beamed at me. The river of quiet, scratchy giggles never stopped as she pointed out various things and I tried to sign them to the best of my ability, Lucy not showing any signs of upset whatsoever if I couldn't get the name for something right.

After some time, it was beginning to get very dark outside and a couple of pointed glances at the clock was all it took for her to stand up and carefully dust off her skirts. "Thank you for playing with me, Star," Lucy signed excitedly. "I like you. Do you want to know a secret?" She leaned in conspirationally, bursting into my space bubble with a lack of care only a child could posess.

I nodded, not trusting my mouth whatsoever. The closer she leaned in, the more overwhelming her smell became. Her pretty dress reeked of mildew and stale water, her breath - of dried blood and something earthen, like moist soil and cold cobblestone.

Lucy's eyes widened dramatically. "If you need answers, go on to the seventh floor. Bring some warm milk and cookies, they won't bother you too much, but be careful and don't stay for too long. You look tasty," I struggled to keep up with her rapid signing, my eyes firmly trained on her. Lucy's hand carefully patted my cheek and in my frozen state, I could only wave back as she skipped to the door and unlocked it, giving me one of her closed-lipped smiles before disappearing behind it without a noise.

The lock slid shut on it's own after the girl's departure. My heart briefly jumped up into my throat, trapping my jerky inhale in-between my throat and my esophagus. Coughing, I went on to double check the door lock before scrambling for the TV remote to add some background noise to the suddenly eerily quiet apartment.

The sit-com that popped up wasn't any of the ones I knew so I sat helplessly watching unfamiliar people get themselves into more and more absurd situations as the grating noise of pre-recorded audience laughter mocked the characters actions. A sudden shriek pierced the late night stillness, followed by a sound of breaking dishes and a woman's voice tiredly chastising the miscreants.

Samantha.

I'd seen her a few times as she smoked her strong cigarettes in front of the entrance, her twins running in circles around the large pothole in the middle of the driveway. She'd been friendly enough, the dark circles under her eyes and the unkempt state of her clothes telling me more than her words, "I love them, I really do. But I just want some sleep," she rasped as she sighed and attempted to gather her two kids.

I didn't examine them too closely but on first moment's notice their eyes and teeth appeared... Wrong. Samantha had taken them inside after that, clutching a coffee thermos of a size truly impressive, and I went on my merry way, trying not to think too much of the poor, single mother and her two mutant kids. I felt a little proud, even, as she didn't just abandon them like many other people did after discovering their children had an active X-gene.

It didn't take me long to cave in and offer my help with watching the twins, Anya and Arman; one noisy weekend bled into the next and I began to genuinely feel bad for the overtired woman. Inviting the two terrors into my apartment was a choice I had made mindfully: having asked Odette about advice on hyperactive children, she had proposed a puzzle or two.

The thrifted, wooden items weren't able to hold the twins' attention for long, and Anya was the first one to begin gnawing at the hard blocks, covering the area around her in splinters. Arman was a quiet boy compared to his sister: he'd stare at the TV or at the walls, avoiding eye contact and conversation at great lengths.

My couch was jumped on, my dishes were taken out and my houseplants rearranged chaotically; it was almost as if they purposefully tried to get a rise out of me without doing any actual damage. I spent the remaining few hours of my Sunday putting things back in their places - all that pent up frustration had done wonders for the state of my apartment; it sparkled, looking cleaner than the day I moved in.

The babysitting became a somewhat regular occurrence, more often than not with me popping in for a couple of hours so Samantha could run some errands and the odd weekend when the twins came over to me so Sam could get some much-needed sleep.

She was a kind, gentle if chronically overworked woman. We clicked pretty quickly over our shared desire for comfortable stability and some fucking peace; neither I nor she had it in sights for the foreseeable future. Sam's reaction to me being a witch was a shrug and a top up to her wine glass as she pointedly looked at her daughter who was busy chewing on a door handle, leaving small, jagged marks all over the dull metal.

I just had gotten sorted with a bunch of complicated orders when the radio interrupted Eric Clapton with an emergency message and instructions to steer clear of the next few blocks over. Something had hit NYC again and Avengers had been called but nobody knew exactly what it was or when it was going to be dealt with.

As soon as I shot a text to Sam, explaining the situation, I immediately retreated to the back rooms, setting up my healing station over the noise of Odette preparing her office for visitors. For some time, I waited with baited breath, jumping at every little noise coming from the outside. The people tickled in slowly, mostly one by one and all were covered in foul-smelling sludge that evaporated with a loud hiss when the concentrated light of the UV lamp in my office touched it.

"Some kind of aliens, I think," a man with a face somewhere between a human and a hedgehog told me, wincing as he retracted his spikes back into his skin. "There's a hole- a portal, right on a crossroads and there's these things coming out. They kinda look like dragons, or flying snakes maybe," the more light breached the surface of his skin, the more relaxed he became. "The Sorcerer and the Witch are trying to close the portal, unsuccessfully might I add, and the muscle is just," he paused, scratching his chin. "Just killin' 'em, I guess."

I nodded enthusiastically, prompting him to continue to rely the state of the affairs as I applied the thick, viscous ointment on a gash on his leg. "It's hammer and Frisbee time," I mumbled to myself sarcastically.

"Yep," the man popped the 'p'. "Most of us are trying to keep the creatures contained to that one block. I saw Iron Man blasting off some of the creatures off of some of my friends," the last sentence contained a great deal of puzzlement. "Though you won't be seeing much of us this time. These things... They're vicious. They've got claws the size of my foot. A lot of us are going to die where they gut us," the sentence was spoken so matter-of-factly, my hands paused on the man's leg, bringing my eyes to his unblinking dots of black.

"What do you mean?" I swallowed in an attempt to chase away the dry, rough feeling in my throat.

"Those beasts... They're smart. One of my friends - she's a... Telepath of sorts... Says they're an intelligent hivemind," the man's broad, warm palm closed over mine. "The beasts leave only the ones that won't get help in time. They can smell death from a mile away. That's how they hunt," his voice was gentle, soothing over the sudden ringing of my ears.

"I..." My mind stuttered, a sticky ball of anxiety, fear and sorrow gathering up in my chest. "I'm so sorry. I..."

"We know what we're doing, out there, we know the risks," his smile was tight and full of grief. "You're doing your part here, makin' sure our babies have parents. We're out there makin' sure our streets are safe. Such is life," the grin acceptance in his pitch-black, small eyes set fire to the tension in my chest.

I exploded, inside out. The sudden burst of decisive, clear-headed energy made the objects around me vibrate, metal resonated my sorrow and my determination, the wood heated up with the force of Mother Nature itself responding to an act of cruelty bestowed upon her creations.

As soon as the man's bandage was finished and he headed out, I grabbed my old, ratty backpack, hastily shoving things into it in a semi-organized fashion. Clean linen strips, bandages, some premade elixirs and draughts, a few jars of salves, carefully tucked in-between the cloth. As I knocked on the door of Odette's office to retrieve the last few items I would need for my reckless journey, the door handle turned on its own, letting me observe her tending a woman who's skin was peeled off most of her back.

"Can't you see I'm..." Odette exclaimed, throwing her free hand towards the door, which did not budge. She turned on her heel, eyes widening when she observed my wide, solid stance in the doorway, lips immediately curling into a small grin. "I understand. Take what you need. It's not wise to resist Her call," the words were spoken carefully, as if not to spook me, before Odette resumed her delicate work of putting the injured woman back together.

Without a word, I finished packing and left through the front door, not needing more than my scarf and my light sweater to keep me from the freezing gusts of wind. My very core was the centrefold of an active volcano, bursting with white-hot bursts of energy as I approached the injured people on my way towards the terrible screeching noise.

This far out, most of the injured were able to make it to Odette's or to the other healer, who's name I had found out only then, but they were thankful for the water I offered them. Not once did they question me: my star-patterned scarf, out of all things, had become somewhat of a symbol for me among the different folk. Mutants approached me fearlessly, giving generous updates on the direction of the battle and the hotspots I probably should have avoided.

The louder the screeching noises grew, the more people needed my help. The stops took longer, my painkillers were becoming a short supply, the main relief provided by a couple of mid-range, mid-strength energy manipulating mutants that began to tail me after I offered to patch them up in exchange for help with the injured.

It was as if I instinctually knew where I was most needed, my decisions were seldom my own. Me and the two mutants bid a haste goodbye after loading up their truck with the injured, although deep inside, I knew that the amount of corpses, bloody and messy, littering the streets had begun to get to them. In a normal state of mind, I would not have been able to look at them either: then, each mangled, broken body only added fuel to the fire within me.

As I stepped foot in an intersection where someone had piled up bent and broken cars, the shadow flying over my head shrieked, taking a fluid nose dive towards another, smaller flying figure. I dropped flat on the ground, the contents of my backpack clattering, watching the small figure in the sky blast the beast with an off-blue ray of concentrated energy. As soon as the creature began it's graceless drop, Tony turned around and flew off, looking none worse for wear.

At the very centre of my chest, a faint feeling of fondness and hope blossomed into tiny little flowers that soothed the aching sorrow for the dead. Each warcry of the beasts from another world fed the anger, the anguish Gaia seemed to exhibit at their intrusion; the revolt I felt upon laying my eyes on one of them made me sweat, hands clenching into fists until my skin crawled under my nails.

The last part of me that wanted to pretend I was in control was gone; my soft, untrained body a mere vessel for a force stronger than me, stronger than anything. Noise around me grew in pitch, some of the creatures circling around my hiding spot cluelessly, aimlessly, as if they could not find what they were looking for.

I moved spots in a daring series of runs, bringing me almost to the portal itself, and the hellish lizards dived into my previous sanctuary, shattering the concrete and the wood of the house under the amused black stares of glassless windows.

The realization set it - they could not see me. Or perceive me properly, I deduced, inspecting the creatures for any sort of orifice except for their mouths and finding them to lack eyes and ears.

My own stare fell onto Sorcerer Supreme, floating amongst a variety of moving golden circles; I was close enough to hear him talking in a language I did not know. Wanda was hovering nearby, holding up a wall of red energy, protecting the chanting sorcerer.

A united screech invoked a shiver from every living being within it's reach, the creatures circling the portal for the last time before flying off in haphazard directions as the portal slowly began to close. I was prepared to cheer, yet, something stopped me; not a second later, the circles surrounding Stephen dimmed as the man himself jumped up onto his feet in alarm, screaming something unintelligible at the Scarlet Witch.

The overturned food cart I was hiding behind slowly began to creep towards the portal. A couple of rats, a pigeon - the animals flew in front of my eyes, rapidly, as they struggled against the unseen force. My hands grasped the handlebars of the cart in vain, I struggled against the force, seeing a moment of confusion on Wanda's face as I floated- no, rocketed past her as Stephen's golden magic forcefully pushed her out of the portal's reach.

It's size no bigger than a doorway, the vile thing blew cold, dry air under my sweater, muffling Stephen's cursing as we briefly collided during our violent expulsion into another world.

And then, there was darkness.

Taglist! @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[simplyswooningk]

Fanfiction Teaser: The Strategist| Coming April 2021 to FF.net and A03 | Chapter One, “The Professor & The Madman”

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Ron and Hermione

Premise: Begins Post Half-Blood Prince. “Wars are not for children,” Arthur said with a deep sigh. 

“It’s a good thing I’m not a kid anymore, isn’t it, Dad?” 

                                                     The Strategist  

“War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”-J.R.R Tolkien

“The Minstrel-Boy to the War has gone! In the ranks of death, you will find him. His father’s sword he hath girded on and his wild harp slung behind him. ‘Land of song,’ said the warrior-bard, ‘Though all the world betrays thee. One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard. One faithful harp shall praise thee.’”-Thomas Moore

                                                    One:

                          The Professor & The Madman

Ronald Weasley had never seen Hogwarts so silent. The place seemed frozen, stuck, dead. He shuddered at his train of thought. It had been barely an hour since Albus Dumbledore, largely regarded as the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had ever known, had been laid to rest.

His murderer, Professor Snape, was gone, had left like the ruddy coward he was along with the rest of the Death Eaters. Snape had never been anywhere near Ron’s favorite teacher, but he never could have imagined anything like this. To make matters worse, Dumbledore had trusted Snape. That mistake had cost him everything.

Ron found himself sitting on the Quidditch Pitch. It was empty, no one had a thought for Quidditch. The days of worrying about his Keeper abilities and how to pass his N.E.W.T.S seemed as far away as his life before Hogwarts.  

His parents were catching up with old friends, but they had announced that they would be leaving in two hours, his mother was especially was eager for him and Ginny to be at home. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he wouldn’t be staying long.

Dumbledore had given Harry Potter a mission. You Know Who had a secret, several of them it seemed, and they had to find them all and destroy them. Horcruxes.  

He, Harry and Hermione Granger were setting off a mission to find and destroy each of those Horcruxes. Seven of them. Two had already been dispensed. And one would only be gone when He Who Must Not Be Named popped his clogs for good.

 Apparently, they could be anything. One they knew about. It was the locket of Slytherin. But who knew where they would find that?  

And then there was this mysterious R.A.B character who had somehow stolen the locket.  No one had the foggiest idea who he was. So, they were heading headlong into disaster without a clue as to what to do.

He honestly shouldn’t have been surprised. After his first year at Hogwarts, having to deal with a giant, living chess set and then a murderous diary, a violent tree and a killer snake in his second had pretty much taught him to be prepared for anything.  

There was a part of him that wanted to just go home. A part of him that wanted spend a quiet summer at home, go to Hogwarts for his seventh year and start life in the real world.

But he knew he was kidding himself. With Dumbledore gone and You-Know-Who gaining ground every second, if they didn’t end it, there wouldn’t be a real world. So, he would fight. There was nothing to do but fight. He knew Hermione felt the same way, but if he could’ve kept her away from it all, he would. More than anything, he wanted to keep her safe.  

Harry had disappeared somewhere off with Ginny, and although he had had his reservations about their relationship, there were far worse guys for his only sister to date. Although she couldn’t have picked a more troublesome bloke.  

Then again, Ginny had always liked trouble. She'd be coming back to school next year. Ron couldn’t imagine what Hogwarts would be like without Dumbledore.  

He looked up to the window where the old Headmaster’s office had been. It was hard to imagine anyone else ever being there.  

Hs eyes fell to the window where Potions class was. Snape had taught there, pretending that he wasn’t a Death Eater, pretending that he could be trusted. The whole thing made him want to vomit and then punch something.  

And then he thought of Slughorn. He apparently had written a fucking book for Voldemort: How To Make A Horcrux: A Guide for Fucking Demented Psychopaths. His mother had often told him that not all Slytherins were evil, but the whole lot of them seemed to be nothing but trouble.  

But then again, if he’d wrote the book, he might have the answers. 

He made his way back into the castle, grabbed the Marauder's Map from Harry’s trunk and searched for Slughorn’s name. He was in a part of the castle Ron had never ventured. But there was no time for trepidation now.

He made his way to the Teacher’s Wing. He found himself outside Slughorn’s quarters. He knocked, but there was no answer. Normally, he would’ve turned away, but it was no time to waste on civilities.

He walked in. “Professor? Professor Slughorn?”  

He heard some shuffling about and he instantly reached for his wand. These days, no one could be too careful.

“Oh, Mr. Wemby!” Ron fought the urge not to roll his eyes. This man literally had taught generations of his entire fucking family and he couldn’t remember his last name. It wasn’t as if they all bore a strong family resemblance and had the same hair color.  

Oh, wait a second, it was.

What made it worse was that he’d nearly died because of Slughorn and a box of Love Potion-tainted chocolate cauldrons.  

“How are you, my boy? Avoiding more poisonings, I hope?”

“Doing my best, sir,” Ron said with a smile. “If I might have a word?”

“Certainly, my boy,” said the aged professor and Ron noted that he took a rather pointed look at his hourglass. “Although I am in quite of a hurry.”

“You’re leaving Hogwarts?”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t dare. Now, with everything that’s happened. You-Know-Who will come for this place, I guarantee you. Someone will have to help watch over the students. No, I was just heading down to the greenhouses. With Death Eaters knocking on every corner, there’s a couple of plants that I should like to have on hand.”

Ron nodded and squared his shoulders. “Well, I won’t take up too much of your time, sir. Sir, I’m aware of what you gave Harry about...You-Know-Who.”

Ron watched the professor’s face go white. “Sir, believe, I’m not here to give you a hard time about it,” he said quickly. “I just want your help with something.”

Professor Slughorn’s back straightened. "I've already given Harry everything.” His voice was stiff and dismissive, but Ron didn’t have time to get upset.

“I know. But I was just wondering, is there anything else you know that might be helpful. You see, Harry’s going to try and destroy all of the Horcruxes. That’s right, he did make Horcruxes, sir. Six of them, apparently.  I'm going with Harry. Me and Ms. Granger. Is there anything you know that may be able to help us? Anything about Horcruxes, anything about You-Know-Who. Dumbledore said you were his favorite teacher.”  

The professor scoffed. “Ah yes, my claim to fame. The favorite teacher of the Darkest Wizard our world has ever known. What a nice epithet that will be, I’m sure. Of course, Harry would go for the Horcruxes. He’s Dumbledore’s man through and through.” Slughorn turned thoughtful for a moment. “That may not always be a good thing, mind you. Sit down, Weatherby.”  

Ron did as he was told.  

“I really shouldn’t tell you much,” the professor began. “It would be quite... well, I suppose none of that will even matter.” He sighed and Ron thought he was looking at a man who was clearly at war with himself.  

“I’ve often thought about that night, the night I told him about some of the darkest magic known to Wizarding kind. I believed his curiosity natural, admirable. How wrong I was. The first thing you ought to know is that none of the items will be insignificant. They'll be things that were important to him.  But they’ll also be things considered magically significant. He likes power, he like things connected with the past. Dumbledore—,” his voice caught briefly as he mentioned the old Headmaster, “may have told you as much. And his favorite place is this school. It is the only place he ever felt at home.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “Do you think one of the objects is here, sir?”  

“Well, there could be no better hiding place, could there?”  

“Sir, do you know how to destroy one?”

Slughorn sighed. “I have never learned the spell to create one. But a good wizard is curious about such things. But only curious. What I can tell you is that making horcruxes is not an easy business, my boy. Destroying them is far, far worse. There's only a couple of things in the world that can do so and most of them will kill a wizard just as easily. Basilisk venom, for one. I don’t think I need to tell how hard that is to come by. And no, I haven’t got any. If I did, I'd give it to you. There’s also Fiendfyre. It’ll destroy the Horcrux but if you’re not careful, it’ll take you right out with it. And then there is a Potion.”

“A Potion?”

Slughorn nodded. “Horcruxes, my boy, can be anything. Including flesh and blood. Now normally, you’d just kill the living thing and the Horcrux inside it right along with it. But, if for some reason, you want to remove the Horcrux without killing the host, there is a potion for that.”  

Slughorn got up from his chair and walked back to a cupboard, shuffling about for a moment before picking out a small vial with a reddish-black liquid. He brought it back to the table and handed it to Ron.

“This is Actuscaria. It's one of the rarest potions in the world. It's incredibly tricky to make and it has about a thousand different uses, one of them is destroying Horcruxes inside of living things.”

Ron looked at the potion, fascinated, more fascinated than he’d ever been by a potion before. “How does it do that, sir?”

“Actuscaria can only be made by love.”

Ron looked at the professor, blue eyes clouded with confusion.

“As in the act of love.” Ron still looked perplexed. “As in making it, Mr. Weasley.” 

Understanding dawned in Ron’s eyes, he turned bright red and eyed the bottle curiously. He was so fascinated that he didn’t realize that Slughorn finally got his blasted name right.

“But not just any act of love Mr. Weasley, the first act of love. To put it into frankly, the potion is made from the blood of a virgin witch.” Ron turned even redder, but if Slughorn noticed, he didn’t let on.  

“The blood that is shed during the act of deflowering.” Ron blushed again, this time the color of a ripe tomato. “Also, the blood has to be combined with the seed of the wizard who has deflowered her. Given that she has been deflowered, this combination happens rather naturally. Also, you need the entire fingernail of each of their left hands. Combine that with three drops of phoenix tears, brewed in a cauldron made from dragon’s eggs and the fire lit only with elm wood for eight days and seven nights. But the most important part of this is that the witch and wizard must be in love. Not some childish, silly infatuation, but truthfully, truly in love or it will not work. Horcruxes are formed by murder, a violation against nature. But the act of love, true love at its purest is the very affirmation of nature. It’s Old Magic, you see, nothing more powerful. Guard it, Mr. Weasley, with your life. Even if you never have cause to use it, it’s worth five times its weight in gold.”

Ron reached out a slightly trembling hand to grasp the potion. It seemed so unremarkable, so ordinary. It didn’t look revolting like Polyjuice or deadly like Night of the Living Death.

“Thank you, Professor...for everything,” Ron said, standing up. “I’ll need to finish packing.”

Professor Slughorn nodded and Ron began to walk away. Right before, he reached the door, he turned around.

“Professor, is there anything, anything else at all that you can tell me?”

The aged potions master looked up from his desk. “Yes. Godspeed, my boy. Godspeed.”  

Ron nodded. That wasn’t terribly helpful but he knew he meant well. Which considering the circumstances, was probably the most anyone could do.

“Mr. Weasley,” the professor called out before Ron had reached the back of the classroom. “Before you go, if you have a moment, feel free to take whatever you’d like from the Potions Storeroom. If you’re going to try and stop...him, you never know what you may need.”

Ron nodded and with one final farewell, he left the Good Professor to ponder that one fateful conversation. Ron had learned this year how much damage one action could cause.

As he headed back to Gryffindor Tower, he thought of everything the Professor had told him. Was it possible He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had hidden a Horcrux at Hogwarts? He didn’t pretend to know how the psycho thought, he left that up to Harry.  

But if you were going to hide something you never wanted anyone to find, where else would you hide it?  

He arrived in the Gryffindor common room, which was all but deserted. Hermione was sitting on the couch her legs propped up on her trunk, clearly deep in thought.

 He was supposed to meet his parents and Ginny in the Great Hall in a hour and a half. Hermione would be coming with them and then taking the Floo Network back to her house.  

She looked sad, she looked worried. She looked beautiful. All he wanted to do was hold her.

It hadn’t been the best year for their friendship. Theirs had always been a friendship of push and pull. But the past year, there wasn’t any pushing, only pulling away.  

He honestly didn’t know where it had all gone wrong. Okay, so he did.  

Jealousy, immaturity, insecurity, Ginny’s goading, Lavender’s sudden attention, Quidditch fears and Quidditch glory; it had been a toxic cocktail.

They were back on good terms finally. Near death experiences tended to make people forget pettiness.  It was nice to know that they could never really be angry with each other. He never doubted her being there when it counted. He hoped she thought the same.

But that was part of the problem...he didn’t know what she thought...of him. He could read her moods like the back of his hand, could tell when she was angry, moody, stressed. He knew how to piss her off like nobody else. But he hadn’t quite worked out how to make her happy.  

He had just begun to realize that was what he wanted to do, possibly, probably, definitely more than he wanted anything else.  

Denial had long been his picked poison when it came to his feelings for Hermione, but now, now he didn’t want to hide them anymore. But there were a million reasons he had to.

There were a lot of things unsaid. It didn’t make sense to say them now, not when the whole world was at stake. If they lived, there would be time to say it all. But of course, that was a very big if.  

“Hey,” she said with the smallest of smiles. He returned her smile and came to sit beside her.

“Where’s Ginny?” he asked. “Mum and Dad are going to be in Hogsmeade in an hour.”

“She’s down at Hagrid’s...with Harry. I think she wants to spend as much time with as she can.”

Ron nodded and then shook his, not needing that particular image in his head. Harry had been his best friend for the better part of six years, but still there were just some things one didn’t want to imagine about their little sister.

“How are you?” he asked. “I mean, really?”

Hermione shrugged. “Fair,” she responded. “It’s a lot to do. A lot to plan. I’ll be coming to the Burrow next week.”  

“So soon?” he asked. Not that he minded. But Hermione usually didn’t come to the Burrow until the last week of summer.  

“Yes,” she said rather quickly and he got the distinct feeling that there was something she wasn’t saying. “Is that all right?” she asked, brown eyes searching his.

He turned red. “Of course. Of course, it’s all right. I just thought that maybe with everything that’s going on, you’d want to spend more time at home...with your folks.”

Hermione shrugged. “With everything that’s going on, I'd love to never leave home. But that’s not really an option, is it? No use in prolonging the inevitable.”

“Have you thought of what you’re going to tell them?”  

Hermione didn’t answer for a long moment and then just shook her head. “I don’t know how to have that conversation. But in any event, have you thought of what you’re going to tell Mrs. Weasley? That's the real dangerous one, isn’t it?”  

Ron, despite his worry and trepidation, laughed. “You’re right about that one,” he said with a grin. She grinned back and for a moment, everything was okay.  

“We’ll be okay, Hermione,” he told her with confidence he couldn’t quite justify.

She scoffed slightly. “You sound certain.”  

“Well, you’re coming, aren’t you?”  

She smiled, the first one he could remember seeing that reached her eyes in a long while. Then he remembered his conversation with Slughorn.

“I went to speak to Slughorn,” he said. “To see if he knew anything that could help us.”

Hermione frowned at that. “Ron, we’re not supposed to tell anyone! You could put him in danger.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Hermione, for Merlin’s sake, Harry already told him something. And in case you didn’t notice, all of us are already in fucking danger.”

Hermione bit her lower lip and exhaled loudly, the way she always did when he was correct and she didn’t want to admit it. “Well, what did he say?” she asked finally a long pause.

Ron proceeded to say tell her the gist of his conversation with Slughorn. Although, he left out the part of the instructions for Actuscaria. There were some things he just didn’t feel comfortable talking about. Not with her.  

Besides, Hermione being Hermione, she would, at some point, look up the recipe anyway.

“Basilisk venom,” she said once Ron had finished his story. “Where on earth are we going to find Basilisk venom?”  

Ron thought for a moment. “I know where. Come on,” he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. They had no time to waste.

He dismissed the way his heart was beating as nerves and anticipation and not having anything to do with the way her hand felt in his. No, that had nothing to do with it at all.  

They stood there for the briefest of seconds, hand-in-hand, eyes searching into another and for a second, the never-ending fast-fowarding tape that had been their experience at Hogwarts seemed to pause.

But that moment, like all moments akin to it, ended too quickly.

“We’ve got to hurry,” Ron said blinking rapidly, breaking the intensity of their eye contact.  

“You mind telling me where we’re going?” Hermione asked as they raced down the steps of Gryffindor Tower.

“Girls’ lavatory on the second floor.”

“What?” Hermione asked as she ran beside him, their hands still tightly clasped. 

“Chamber of Secrets,” he said in a hushed whisper though the halls were nearly deserted.

They got there in record time. Ron had never known it to be so easy to sneak around Hogwarts. Without Dumbledore’s presence, nothing felt safe.

He didn’t like that feeling. Hogwarts’ had been his family’s home from home for centuries. Despite everything he had been through in his six years there, he had never felt truly, truly at risk.

Of course, the Ministry would do everything they could to keep everyone safe. But if he was going to judge by the stories Bill had told him about the early days of the First War, he wasn’t exactly filled with confidence.

But now wasn’t the time for his fears to get the better of him.

He gripped her hand tighter as they entered into the bathroom and found themselves facing the row of sinks.  

He felt for the Snake-shaped clasp hidden since Tom Riddle had walked these halls. It felt weird doing this without Harry, he had to admit. But he had a feeling had things were going to get dicey, Harry would need all the help he could get.  

“How do we get in?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Parseltongue,” Ron said as he thought back to the last time he’d been there. Parseltongue always sounded creepy and disturbing to him, but Harry mumbled it a lot in his sleep. Ron had only picked up on it subconsciously, but he hoped he had enough not to botch it.

The whispery, slithery words felt unnatural and harsh on his tongue, but it worked. The tap began to move and Hermione gasped in awe.

“Oh, my god,” she whispered as the tunnel to the Chamber of Secrets opened.

“Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to jump,” Ron told her. “You may want to hold on.”

Hermione peered down the tunnel, eyes wide. “Hold on to what?” her voice was highly confused.

“To me,” he said motioning to his shoulders.  

“Oh,” a blush crept across her face and Ron pretended he didn’t notice as he fought his own burning cheeks. Her arms wrapped around the top of his chest and he prayed that she couldn’t feel his heart beating, though he knew it was pounding.

Her little hands clasped around him, delicate and dainty but he knew what damage those hands could do. The contrast simultaneously amused and aroused him. But he shook himself of those thoughts. Focus, focus, she’s only a girl.

But of course, even as they jumped down the tunnel, he knew he was kidding himself. She was The Girl. The Girl He Wanted, The Girl He Needed, The Girl He Loved. Love?  

It seemed so foreign, yet as they whooshed down the tunnel, he could think of no reason to dispel it. He loved her. When the fuck had that happened?

It was unsettling to be with the notion of love as they were sliding down a dark, creepy dangerous tunnel in preparation of an even more dangerous mission where the best-case scenario was if they won, they most likely be dead as a result.

They slid down the tunnel and Hermione rapped his shoulders tighter as their speed increased.

Ron cast a silent Cushioning Charm because the memory of barreling into hundred thousand mouse skeletons was far from his favorite thing.

They landed with a thud and Hermione’s hands instantly left Ron’s shoulders. He was surprised by how instantly he felt the loss of her touch and how much he longed for it again.

“Oh, my God,” Hermione said as she looked around. There was rubble, dust and ash everywhere.

“We’ll have to bombard our way through,” Ron told her pulling out his wand. “Three tons of rock dropped last time, so let’s be careful.”  

Hermione nodded and pulled out her own wand. “I’m right behind you,” agreed with a grin.  

He took her hand in his. “If we need to make a quick exit, Side-Long Apparation?”  

She nodded and they pressed forward until they reached the Chamber Door.

Another round of Parseltongue from Ron later, the door opened and they found themselves in a room which they had only heard about secondhand from Harry and Ginny.

“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” Hermione asked as they entered the Chamber.

Ron pulled a look. “Are you serious?” he asked. “Yes, I've spent my free learning the secret language of psychos.”

“Not all Slytherins are evil, Ronald.”  

“Name one you like.”

He had her there. She gave no answer and merely shrugged.

They both paused when their eyes fell upon the basilisk skeleton.

“Bloody hell,” whistled Hermione as she took the whole thing in.

“Hey don’t sweat it. It's dead. We’ve got living monsters to worry about. What's that Shakespeare quote you always say, ‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here’?”

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. “I said that once three years ago. You remember that?”

Ron colored slightly and shrugged in reply. “I guess. Let’s get the fangs.”  

He started to kneel down, reaching to grab a fang.

“Ron, wait! We should remove those with magic. What if you accidentally scratched yourself?”

Ron had jumped back at her words. “Oh, right. Brilliant, you are.”  

She smiled at that and pulled out her wand. They carefully magically removed twelve basilisk fangs from the remains of the vicious snake. Hermione conjured up a backpack for them to place them in.

“You know, Ron,” Hermione said as she zipped up the backpack. “This is going to be really dangerous what we’re doing.”

He nodded, as she rose to stand right in front of him. “Have you thought about it, if we don’t make it?”  

She nodded and then shrugged, though he thought he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “I have. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? What matter is—,”

“Harry,” he finished for her. “Harry has to make it through. That's what the prophecy said.”

Hermione sniffled. “Harry,” she agreed. “God, if I had known that we may not be coming back next here, that we may not be coming back at all, I would’ve done so much so differently.”

He looked at her for a long moment, wondering if she was talking about what he thought.  

He looked down at his shoes. “Me too,” he began rather meekly. He lifted his face to meet hers again and smiled. “I think about all that time I spent worrying about Quidditch. Like that matters now.”

“Ron, I’m sorry about the birds, if I never apologized for that before.”  

He grinned. He hadn’t been expecting her to say that. “Thanks,” he said honestly. “I’m sorry about...everything.” Although, he couldn’t remember what he apologizing for. But he figured it was best to cover the bases.

She chuckled lightly. “You don’t know what you’re apologizing for, do you?”  

He shook his head, amused by her ability to see right through him. “Not really, no. But I figured it couldn’t hurt. I'm sorry about Lavender.”  

She shook her head. “Don’t apologize,” she said. “It wasn’t your fault she fancied you. I just overreacted...a bit.”

He raised his eyebrows. “A bit?”

“All right, a lot. I just I can’t believe you fancied her.”

“Well, I didn’t...I mean not really.”

“Ronald, that’s horrible.”  

“I know,” he said somewhat guiltily. “It’s just she fancied me, and I guess I fancied that and before I knew it, it had gotten out of hand. Then you weren’t speaking to me—,”  

Hermione scoffed. “Oh, so you were trying to stick it to me by snogging her? Real mature, that is.”

Ron found his ire rising. “Oh, and just what the fucking hell were you doing with McClaggen, then? Research into the mind of right arrogant pricks?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t!”

“Well, I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t....” he trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence.

But Hermione was having none of that. “If I hadn’t what, Ronald?” she folded her arms and waited and he knew she would wait. Because the only person more stubborn that him was her.  

He knew he wasn’t about to admit to rational behavior, which is why he did not want to admit it.

“Ginnyutoldmeukissedkrum,” he said quickly and primarily to the floor.  

“What?”

He sighed. He didn’t want to have this conversation. But maybe, just maybe, now wasn’t the time to leave things unsaid.  

“Ginny told me you kissed Krum.”

Hermione blinked very fast for a few moments, the way she always did when she was thinking. She looked confused, then she looked agitated, then she looked annoyed. Very annoyed. At him.  

“You mean two years ago?” she asked her voice dripping with derision.  

His eyes looked at the floor again. “Well...yeah.”

“Let me get this straight: you started snogging Lavender because Ginny told you about me and Viktor?”

“Well, I started snogging Lavender because she started snogging me, but I can’t say that didn’t have something to do with it.”

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. She raked a hand through her hair. “This is all so silly. You could’ve talked to me about that, you know?”

“I can’t talk to you about him,” he said honestly. “It makes me crazy.”

“Why?!” she exploded. “Why does it drive you so mad?”

“Because,” he snapped, just as heated. “Because,” he said somewhat more calmly once he saw the look in her eyes. “I just...it’s the thought of him with you...instead...instead of me.”

He hoped he didn’t look as crestfallen or as foolish as he thought he sounded. But he was sure he saw pity in her expression.

“Oh, Ron,” she said softly. She shook her head again and he knew she was thinking that he was an idiot. “You didn’t even know I was a girl back then.”  

He colored. “I did. I knew you were a girl. I just didn’t know back then that you meant something to me...as a girl, you know, not just a friend.”  

She blinked and her face lifted in kind of a smile. “It’s all right,” she said. “I understand.”

“You do?” he said, surprised.

She nodded. “I go red with rage when I think about you and Lav-Lav.”

“I noticed,” he said wryly thinking of birds pecking his flesh.  

“You know, all this could’ve been avoided if we had only spoken to one another,” she said with a resigned sigh.

He nodded. “You’re right. You're always right.”

“Not always.” She looked  

“You know if I had known if we weren’t coming back here next year, if we might not be coming back at all...I would’ve asked you to the Yule Ball. I would've gone to Slughorn’s Christmas Do. But in my defense, I didn’t know you were asking me out.”  

She raised her eyebrows, but he didn’t give her a chance to respond.

“I mean maybe I thought or maybe I hoped but it doesn’t matter. The point is if I had known how high the stakes were going to get, I would’ve done a lot of things.” He took a breath, not wanting the moment to pass. “Most of all, I would’ve done this.”  

He leaned forward, way, way, way forward, since compared to him, she was practically house-elf sized. He waited for her to stop him, waited for her to push him away or flee from the expanding closeness between them.

In the back of his mind, he didn’t know if he had the right to do this, after all, no admissions of feelings had passed between them. Then again, maybe when you knew each other as well as they did, words were a little less necessary.  

He kept leaning until their faces were inches apart. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, his heart pounding dramatically.

His lips brushed against hers, softly, slowly asking a question. He thought he felt her gasp or shiver or something he couldn’t quite name. Her lips were soft and they tasted like honey. He pressed his against her lips harder, asking the question again.

She answered, her lips playing over his in return. God, he was kissing Hermione. And she was kissing him back. It was nothing like those lung-collapsing snog marathons with Lavender. It was soft and sweet and...intimate.  

He dared himself to be bold, there was no point in turning back now. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She felt small and frail against him and a wave of protectiveness ran through his veins, barely reined in by his desire to keep kissing her.  

Her mouth opened and suddenly her taste was everywhere, on his tongue, in his mind, in his heart. Her hands clasped around his shoulders, bringing him deeper and he heard her moan slightly.  

That one, little breathy exhalation went straight to his cock. All the things he wanted to do to her rushed through his brain in a series of flashes. Suddenly his lips were on her neck, chasing the sound that fell from her lips. Her skin was feather-soft against his lips and all he wanted to do was mark it, claim it as his own.

His lips lingered on a spot underneath her chin which caused another raspy moan, louder than the one before to fall from her lips.

Ron felt himself harden, and they were close enough where he knew she could feel it. Something in the back of his mind told him to stop, but he couldn’t. He was addicted to having her in his arms, on his skin, and the sounds and shudders she made as he touched her. His lips sought hers again for another deep, nearly bruising kiss.

His hands began to roam up her waist, she shifted closer to him, her foot kicking the backpack. One of the basilisk fangs fell out and clattered to the ground.

That one sound snapped Hermione back into reality. She pulled her lips away abruptly. Her hands left his shoulders and she moved an inch away.  

Ron’s eyes shut open, afraid that he had gone too far, pushed past the limit. He waited for to say something. Waited for the inevitable heartbreak he knew was coming.  

“We can’t do this,” she said softly.

He instantly deflated but tried to hide it. “You’re right,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound shaky. “I’m sorry, I should have never. I didn’t mean to...take advantage of you and I can’t blame you if you want to slap me or hex me or send more birds but I've still got scabs from that so if you could lay off—,”  

“Ron, what are you talking about?” She looked up at him, confused. “You didn’t take advantage of me.”

They both blushed as the weight of their action sunk in.

“Soooo,” Ron tested the waters. “You don’t want to hex me?”

She laughed softly. “No, no, quite the opposite actually.”

He couldn’t help but beam at that. She placed a hand on his face, cupping his cheek. “We can’t do this...not now,” she quickly amended. “Right now, we don’t matter. The only thing that matters is—,”

“Harry,” interjected Ron. “The only thing that matters right now is Harry. Harry has to make it through.”

She dropped her hand from his face and matching sad, resigned smiles crossed their faces.  

“We could die,” Ron said briefly. He wasn’t sad, or even upset about it. He knew it was a fact.  

Hermione nodded. “We could. But that really doesn’t matter either, does it?” She shook her, frustration clouding her features. “You know, this year was a waste. When I think that we could’ve just...”

“Spent all year snogging,” Ron suggested for her. No use in beating around the bush anymore  

She rolled her eyes. “You did spend half the year snogging.”

Ron shrugged sheepishly. “Well, yeah, but she wasn’t you.” He enjoyed the smile on her face at his words.

“Are you scared?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not of dying. I’m more scared of what’ll happen if we don’t win. But I was scared of dying before I lived.”

“You’re not anymore?” she seemed surprised.

“Nope,” he said with a rakish grin. “I’ll get to remember the last five minutes for as long as I live. So, if You-Know-Who pops my clogs tomorrow, that’d be all right.”  

She laughed. “You’re impossible.”

Ron grinned. “Yes, and you love me.” He had meant it as a joke, it was supposed to be a joke. But she didn’t laugh. She just stared into his eyes for a long pause.

When she did speak, her was clear and earnest. “I do.”  

He felt like he’d gotten hit with a Stunning jinx. But then she was staring up at him with her huge brown eyes, a hint of fear at the edges and he realized she was waiting for him to say something.  

“I do too,” he said quickly. She smiled and reached for his hand again, their fingers intertwined.

A long, sincere beat passed between the two of them. But it ended all too soon. “So, if we win and we don’t die,” she said an edge of humor. “Can I get one of your Weasley sweaters?”  

He laughed. “You can have them all.”

“And your Quidditch jersey?”  

“Let’s not get carried away,” he said, mockingly scandalized.  

They stared at each other again and All Ron wanted to do was kiss her again. He thought she was thinking the same thing too, but she looked away.

“We’ve got to go. Your parents will be ready to leave soon.”

He nodded. She was right. “Yeah, yeah, we should. Oh, I totally forgot. Slughorn said we should go to the Storeroom, pick out whatever we think we may need.”

Hermione went straight into Hermione mode. “Ronald, why didn’t you say so? We haven’t got all day, have we? Let's go!”  

She picked up the backpack, shrunk it down and stuck it in her pocket.  

“Ronald, come on!” she beckoned him forward and out of the Chamber.

Despite everything, the danger they were in, the uncertainty of the future, and the deranged, powerful psychopath who wanted to destroy everything he held dear, all he could think of was if and when he’d ever kiss her again.

[that-scouse-wizard]

Tigress and Hound, a Friendship in Many Parts. (Part 1)

[A/N: Hi everyone, this is just going to be a little series of loosely connected one-shots mostly based on ideas I and @judediangelo75 have discussed about our characters. Essentially, a catalogue of David and Judith’s friendship, from humble and slightly awkward beginnings to the epic duo that they are. Hope you all enjoy!

Summary: The introduction between the duo who will become known as the Tigress and the Hound. 

Word count: 2151

MC friends: Judith Harris (@judediangelo75) 

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

1st of September, 1985 (second year)

David

Thick steam hung in the air, courtesy of the Hogwarts Express as David made the familiar first steps onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Two other pairs of footsteps following close behind him.

“Wow!” Came the fascinated tone of Amelia, grey eyes on a swivel. Marvelling at the bright red train, the throngs of witches and wizards with their parents, and even at how they entered into this new place for the muggleborn witch, “We just went through a wall, we just went through a wall!” The young witch was practically bouncing with excitement

“This brings back memories...” David’s father, Matthew sighed nostalgically, giving a chuckle at Amelia’s attitude.

A smile tugged at the corner of David’s lips fondly, "And next year, you'll be coming with me to Hogwarts, Amy." He said as he pushed his luggage cart through the dense crowd that thankfully was parting in the wake of his trolley. Though Goliath didn’t seem to appreciate the rattling, the owl giving an annoyed chirp. One that David didn't pay any mind to, his owl was always in a bad mood when confined to a cage.

After handing his luggage over to be loaded onto the train, he turned to his father and soon-to-be step-sister, "I'll see you guys at Christmas then."

"Right, until then." Matthew said, sticking his hand out, “Best of luck to you, do well in school and please stay out of trouble.” David looked down at it, deciding he would cut his dad some slack. He ignored the outstretched limb, going in for a hug. 

“I’ll try dad.” David said as he pulled away from his now-surprised father, giving Amelia one too, one that the young witch happily returned.  He stepped onto the train, giving one last wave to them, now all he needed to do was find a compartment. 

“Oh, David, over here!” Came a familiar voice, the source of it being a beaming Penny Haywood, “We have a seat going spare, would you like to join us?” 

“Sure, cheers Pen.” David grinned, counting himself lucky he’d found a seat so soon, and with good company to boot. He soon found out the identity of the other two people who were occupying the area he would be sharing with Penny.

One was Rowan, who’s face lit up at the sight of her best friend, in letters they had exchanged she had detailed her own research into the Cursed Vaults. David would gladly listen if it brought him closer to finding Jacob. 

The second person was someone both familiar yet not. Dark skin, pale gold eyes, there was no mistaking who it was as David froze in place. Judith Harris, Jamal Harris’s little sister, a boy who had been a friend of Jacob’s. A person who had also gone missing alongside him. 

What exactly were they supposed to say to each other? ‘Hi, our brothers went missing together, let’s be friends!’ As if to make things even more uncomfortable, Penny took a seat, leaving the only one for David to occupy situated directly opposite Judith. 

 Just great...

Judith glanced at him as he sat down next to Penny, a mixture of shy and wary. The train soon pulled away from the station, “Oh, you two haven’t met before, have you? David, this is Judith Harris. Judith, meet David Willows.”

“Hi...” She said shyly, her voice so soft David almost didn’t hear.

“Likewise.” He said coolly in response, trying not to sound like he really didn’t want to be forced into an interaction. It didn’t help that Penny and Rowan had now struck up a conversation about potions, leaving David and Judith to avert their gazes from each other. David was seriously regretting his choice to not bring a textbook or something to distract himself with. At least then he’d have an excuse not to make eye contact.

“What were you guys up to over the summer?” He asked, not completely rude on his part but at least the question wasn’t just directed at Judith. David could have sworn Rowan sent a quick glance Penny’s way, as if she knew something he didn’t before his question was answered.

“I worked on some potions as some extra homework for professor Snape.” David smirked at Penny’s answer, should have expected that, her love of potions was as uncommon as her admiration for their normally dour professor.

“Well you already know what I’ve been up to.” Rowan stated excitedly, “I’ve been taking a closer look into Hogwarts’s history, aside from Sir Cadogan and a couple of other mentions in portraits of the castle, there’s nothing much about knights. Especially not about-” Rowan was quickly cut off when Penny slapped a hand over her mouth. 

“Especially not about...?” Judith asked curiously. David internally swore, the last thing he needed was more people involved in the Cursed Vaults business... even if she did have a personal stake in it herself.

“The weapons that they used!” Penny answered, taking back her hand as Rowan gave the blonde a brief glare, “David is interested in muggle weaponry, he knows about maintaining and how to use a shotgun.” She elaborated

“That’s right and Judith can use Dao swords.” Rowan said, trying to shore up the ploy, “Come to think of it, David knows how to fight hand-to-hand as well, and so does Judith.”

“Really?” David cocked an eyebrow at that, a clear interest in his tone encountering another magic user with any knowledge of non-magical self-defence was definitely rare in wizarding world.

“I do Tae Kwon Do.” Judith confirmed, though she did give a slightly pointed look to the other two for giving away that fact about her.

“Muay Thai.” David clarified succinctly.  

“What’s the difference?” Rowan asked, confused. That was when David and Judith were united, giving their mutual friend an incredulous look, then turning back to each other. A silent understanding passing between the two, Rowan Khanna not knowing about the differences in their respective fighting styles simply would not do.

“Ro, how would you like to learn something new?” David’s fellow Hufflepuff looked surprised, eyes widening at his question. A grin slowly spread across her face, all too eager to be educated.

“That has to be the best thing you’ve ever said to me, yes please.”

-----

Judith

It had taken a while for the two of them to explain the differences and similarities between their respective styles but Rowan had hung on their every word. Excitedly writing down notes and asking various follow-up questions. Even after it had ended, their fellow Hufflepuff still eagerly went over her bullet points.

David had even seemed a bit interested in hearing about Tae Kwon Do and she couldn’t deny, Muay Thai certainly seemed effective as a fighting style. Then... despite something they could have potentially bonded over, David had opted to sleep the rest of the journey off. 

Judith was somewhat glad for the relief from the awkwardness on though she couldn’t deny she was somewhat miffed at his rudeness. Although, with him softly snoring as his head was lolled back, and Penny having fallen asleep against him, now would be the best time to ask Rowan anything she needed to without the threat of interruption.

“Rowan, what were you going to say before?” She asked. Immediately, her friend stiffened, turning to face her like a deer caught in headlights.

“Nothing.” She answered quickly.

“It didn’t sound like nothing.” Judith retorted quietly, her tone making it clear she wasn’t in the mood for games.

Rowan paused, glancing at the two friends opposite her while briefly mulling it over, and answering nervously, “Alright, fine. We’re looking into the Cursed Vaults. David didn’t want anyone else involved so I didn’t tell you...” She trailed off, noticing her friend’s fists had curled up.

Judith took a deep breath to calm herself. Her first year had been uneventful aside from bullying that came from being Jamal’s relative. She hadn’t uncovered anything about the vaults and now she knew why. David Willows had been keeping secrets. 

“Judith, I’m sorry-” Rowan began but was swiftly cut off.

“I’m not mad at you, Rowan.” Judith said reassuringly, “Any issues I’ve got is between me and David.” Rowan seemed to accept that answer, distracting herself with looking out the window as the train weaved through the countryside. The sky being lit up orange indicated it wouldn’t be long before they reached Hogwarts.

Judith focused on David. On one hand she could understand him not bringing her into the fold in searching for his brother. On the other, if Jacob Hall was found, then maybe Jamal wouldn’t be far behind. If there was a chance of getting her own brother back, she would gladly take it. She’d need to get him alone, the question was how.

That was something she would need to ponder...

------

David stirred from his sleep, being awoken by the high-pitched screech of the train’s brakes as it pulled into Hogsmeade station. Blinking sleepily, he could have sworn he saw Judith staring at him, though her head was turned away from him by the time he next looked so he couldn’t be too sure.

There was no rush for any of them, their path being blocked by throngs of students eager to be off the train. From bright-eyed first years to seventh years who looked quite nostalgic at the thought of this being one of their last journeys on Hogwart’s Express.

Eventually, the crowd cleared, leaving their group straggling behind as they tried to follow the flow of the crowd. Hagrid’s tell-tale call for the first years sounded out as they stepped into the chilly air of the September night. In contrast to the first years who would make their voyage across the Black Lake, the older Hogwarts students would be taking carriages up to the castle grounds.

They made their way through the lit, paved streets of Hogsmeade, Rowan excitedly pointing out some of the wizarding village’s landmarks such as the Three Broomsticks. One of the carriages passed by, bound to pick up students that were further ahead. David wondered if they were enchanted, seeing as there was nothing pulling them.

Penny broke into a light jog as they approached the lane the carriages would initially travel down, waving for one of them to hold on. There was just one issue, the carriage in question already had four students, there were just two seats left for any additional passengers. 

“Sorry everyone.” Penny said, scratching the back of her head sheepishly.

“David and I can stay behind.” Judith offered, taking a hold of his arm. David gave her a puzzled look, prompting to lean in and whisper in his ear, “There’s something you and I need to talk about.”

He understood, keeping her out of the loop had finally caught up with him, “Pen, Ro, go ahead.” David spoke up. Reluctantly, Penny and Rowan climbed aboard the carriage. 

David turned to Judith as the transport pulled away, not speaking up until the clicking of the wheels had disappeared. Leaving the two of them alone on the paved lane, “What do you want?” He asked shortly.

“Answers,” Judith shot back, “I know you’ve been looking into the Cursed Vaults, I want in on it.”

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.” He answered curtly, hoping that would throw her off.

“Rowan told me.” She clarified.

“Listen to me,” David began after a brief pause to gather his thoughts, “The vaults are my business, no one else’s. If I had my way, no one but I would’ve gotten involved in them.”

“And now you have at least Rowan helping out, so what difference does one more person make?” Judith asked rhetorically.

“Because my brother-” David began before Judith cut him off.

“Our brothers, like it or not David, you’re not the only one with a personal stake in this. Please, I want to find my brother just as much as you want to find yours, it makes no sense for us not to work together.” She stated, “Look, Rowan and Penny like you, so I want to trust you, all you need to do is trust me.” She finished, sticking her hand out.

Having more people to help out could be beneficial but still David was unsure...

“Please.” Judith sniffled, sounding somewhat desperate.

David was take aback by that, feeling a pang of sympathy for his fellow Hufflepuff, this really was important to Judith. He sighed in resignation before clasping Judith’s hand with his own.

“Fine, I don’t know how this is goin’ to go between you and me but if you’ve got my back, I’ve got yours.”

Judith’s face lit up in gratitude at his answer, nearly knocking him off his feet as she slammed into him with a brief hug, 

“Thank you.”

David chuckled at that, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all...  

[maraud-moons]

first one shot ahhh

tw- minor mentions of death

us? never.

third year was the first time he asked her out officially. that infuriating hair and cocky grin he flashed her way before sauntering over to her with a confidence that no fourteen year old should have. ‘so what do you say me and you go on a date evans? you know, tell everyone that we’re an item.’ she grit her teeth because god if he was anything other than infuriating before spitting out ‘us? never.’

fourth year came and the marauders were still as exasperating as ever but she would be lying if she said they weren’t a welcome distraction for her. their constant loud energy let her think about something other than how these days behind severus’s words seemed to linger something so much darker. but all gratefulness for the distraction vanishes immediately when a filibuster bursts right above her at the gryffindor table and now there’s orange juice all over the front of her blouse and all she can see is red. she storms over to the four boys with the innocent looks one their faces and she doesn’t really remember what it was she said but she does know it would’ve been enough to make a grown man cry but not the marauders. especially not james potter. while the other three have the decency to look at least a little scared, potter just sits there with the most self satisfied expression on his face. and then he had the audacity to speak, ‘merlin evans you sure are creative with your swearing. godric’s burning ballsack? it’s inspired really. we could use that talent. your brilliance and my charm, we would make a pretty spectacular team don’t you think?’ lily just stares at him because god if he was anything other than infuriating but it was 8 in the morning and she was already drained so she just said ‘us? never.’

fifth year and she was on the train on her way home for christmas, her body filling with dread, already anticipating the colder than ice welcome she’ll receive from her sister especially now after the blow up in summer after she got the prefect badge. marlene, dorcas and mary were staying at hogwarts that christmas and alice was a bit lost in her newly found romance with frank longbottom and she didn’t want to interrupt their honeymoon phase so she sat alone in the compartment and tried her best not to wallow in self pity. then there was a knock at her door and in glided james potter in all his arrogant glory. she glared at him in an attempt to say ‘what in the living hell are you doing here?’ and he just stared back with a calm but equally challenging expression. she couldn’t tell how long they stayed like that for but after a while he accepted mock defeat and replied to her telepathic question ‘i just wanted to know why you were sitting here all alone and sad when such kindred and fun-‘

‘and glorious!’ called sirius black from god knows where.

‘-and glorious spirits are sitting in the compartment right across from you.’

she rolled her eyes and responded, ‘i’m not alone and sad.’

‘please you can smell the gloom the moment you walk in here’ he scoffed.

‘it’s a lot potter but we aren’t friends so it’s alright you don’t have to listen to my problems.’

he mock gasped ‘how dare you, it happens to be my life’s purpose to listen to your problems. and i must embrace my destiny.’

she could feel the corners of her mouth tug up and she mentally screamed at herself because no no no she is not smiling at something james potter said because this is james potter and god if he was anything other than infuriating. she looked at him and despite the humour in his words she saw genuine concern in his face. so she, as briefly as she could, explained the situation with her sister and they kept talking and somehow, by the time the last rays of the setting sun were filtering in through the window, they were still talking. ‘anything from the trolley dears?’ they both looked up to see the trolley witch smiling at them kindly and james nodded and bought some food. before she could reach for her purse, james was already paying. he fixed her with a stare as if to say ‘don’t even try’ so she just grabbed a licorice wand and bit into it. the trolley witch gave james his change and right before she left she smiled and said ‘so you both are finally together huh?’ and james grinned a smile wider than anything she’s seen before while lily choked on her licorice wand before spluttering out ‘us? never.’

sixth year came and lily couldn’t look at either snape or potter in the face because she was furious, but she was also so so hurt. she ignored the signs for so long and it finally came back to bite her in the ass. and now the damage has been done and whenever she sees snape watching her in the corridors or in the great hall, he was always with an expression of great sadness but she knows it was more for himself than anyone else. and potter. with snape she was sure what she was feeling, an unmistakable sense of hatred. but with potter it was a haze. she didn’t know whether to hate him or thank him for being the reason she saw snape’s true colours. so she ignored it. and she got away with it until one day, she heard him shouting her name from across the crowded hall. she put her head down and tried to blend into the crowd but apparently potter now has an eye like a hawk and immediately spotted her trying to slip onto one of the staircases. she hurriedly tried to climb up and a hand caught her wrist and pulled her back just as she noticed the step in front of her had moved to join another staircase ‘damn these moving staircases’ she internally cursed hogwarts and it’s incredibly horrendous timing. ‘merlin evans watch where you’re going’ came james potter’s slightly out of breath voice ‘you may be terrible at hiding but you sure are fast.’ ‘aren’t you supposed to be an athlete?’ she muttered, looking for the closest exit and then noticed james’s hand still gripping her wrist. ‘har dee har har,’ he replied sarcastically ‘i need to talk to you.’. lily sighed, she knew this was gonna happen eventually so she just nodded at him to lead the way. he gently pulled her down the school and a few minutes later, she was sitting in a well furnished secret tunnel, not surprised in the slightest because what else could you expect from the marauders. then james launched into a winded speech about how he’s really sorry evans and other than the few slightly inappropriate innuendos here and there it was a genuine apology and she found herself nodding when he softly asked ‘so can we put this all behind us and be friends?’. so a few days later the school was buzzing with news that james potter and lily evans actually walked to class together without any minor casualties. lily still found him and his puns exasperating because god if he was anything other than infuriating. but they were friends now and she didn’t mind it? not one bit. ‘should i be jealous now?’ marlene asked one day when they were walking to the lake together. lily looked at her confused and asked ‘what why?’

‘because you and potter are best friends now aren’t you?’

lily looked at marlene with a roll of her eyes and a very small smile

‘us? never.’

seventh year and they were so close to the end. in a few months it would all be over and they would leave the castle and all the magic it held behind. to become soldiers. like it or not they were all going to fight. and god was lily terrified. faces of the missing flashed through her mind at the worst times and she knew, everyone knew, this wasn’t going to end anytime soon. not unless they all fought and won the war or died trying. and she was so so scared for everyone she loved. marlene, dorcas, mary, alice, frank, peter, sirius, remus, james. james. lily thought of the quidditch captain and how absolutely stunned she had been when she saw him in the beginning of the year with the head boy badge. one glance and she could tell he had changed. he stood up taller, not with arrogance but with the stance of someone ready to lead. he talked with purpose and acted the same. james potter had grown up. and she could tell it was for his family, for sirius. and she noticed it all. yeah noticing is one thing but the slow fluttering in her stomach when she did? completely different. and she tried so damn hard to ignore them because she can’t focus on romance when she or anyone around her might die any day. and that was exactly what she was thinking about when she looked down at the daily prophet that day and read the front page article. death eaters strike muggle town. killed 4. she choked back a sob as she saw her town’s name on the smaller print and as she read the names she slowly processed the words. suzzane edward. she had known suzanne, been best friends with her as a child and even talked to her last summer. and now she was gone. her and her whole family. she was devastated for them. she put down the paper with a start and looked around the table to see almost everyone at the table clutching a paper in their hands, their expressions varying from horror to defeat as they took in the tragic familiarity of it all. the rest of the day went by in a blur and by the end of the day she sat in the common room trying as hard as she could to focus on the relevance of the goblin wars to today’s banking system. she could hear wisps of conversations floating from parts of the room and she heard marlene say ‘they were found lying next to each other. i’ve read so many people say that even if they died, they died having found their soulmate.’ and upon hearing that, something inside lily sparked. she had to do something and she had to do it now. she knew peter was attending a study group tonight and sirius and remus were merlin knows where and she did know james did not have practice today so she shoved her parchment aside and like a woman on a mission stalked up the stairs to the boys dormitory. and as she took the last few steps her mind caught up to what she was doing and she paused ‘oh god what am i gonna say when i go up there and what? james potter isn’t your soulmate.’ she sighed and turned around about to leave but then her thoughts interrupted her once again ‘isn’t he?’ and that was the last push she needed. she near sprinted up the stairs again, grabbed the handle and barged into the dormitory with the initials j.p. s.b. r.l. and p.p. carved into the door. she entered breathless, to find james sitting in bed in an old t-shirt and

‘bright red snitch pajamas??!!??’

‘evans!!??’

she couldn’t help her laughter, ‘you wear snitch pajamas!’ she snorted.

james was too startled to even look embarrassed ‘evans what are you doing here? are you okay?’ this sobered lily up immediately and she looked around and remembered what she was there to do and managed to stammer ‘oh- uh- yeah.’

‘yeah?’ james asked, still visibly confused.

lily took in a deep breath, ‘okay you got one chance, DO NOT screw it up.’

‘okay well- shit. okay so you know how there’s a war going on right? of course you do. yeah so i heard marlene talk about soulmates and how dying together is better than living without one and hell when i heard that the first person i thought of was you. all these years i kept turning you down cause i found you immature, annoying and quite frankly infuriating and i didn’t expect that to change and then you show up this year and god you changed. you stopped being an arrogant asshole, you stopped walking around like you owned the place and you changed for the better and i couldn’t believe it. then i saw how you were with the firsties and how well you took care of them and when simon hubell needed help with his transfiguration homework, you stayed up all night helping him. and everyone kept telling me you changed for me but i knew, it was for your brother and it made me want to punch a wall because you’ve become a 100 times better person than you already were and how was i so oblivious. and of course i saw what changed in you but i also saw what didn’t. your hair is still as messy as ever and you still run your hands through it whenever you’re nervous or anxious and your laugh, it still fills up a room with joy like it always did, it’s infectious. and you’re still so determined, i mean, whether it was asking me out or anything about the war, you never gave up and you inspired almost everyone in the school. and your eyes. they’re still the chocolate brown they’ve always been and they still turn lighter, almost amber when you’re happy and turn near black when you’re angry and there’s that shine in them that only shows up when you’re up to no good and lately i’ve seen that shine when you’re talking about the war and god those eyes. i’ve slowly fallen in love with them and i can’t help it anymore. ironic isn’t it?i guess your pining methods do work potter. cause here i am in your dorm almost at midnight declaring my love for you.’

she let out a giant breath and stared at james waiting for something, anything. he stared at her, right at her and slowly got up from the bed and walked across the room, never once breaking eye contact and came to stand less than a hair breadth away from her, his eyes shining in a way she’s never seen before. ‘you aren’t pranking me now are you evans? because if this is revenge for all the pranks i would like to let you know that you would’ve broken my heart, like completely shatter-‘

‘no you toerag. i’m not pranking you.’

‘oh okay-‘

‘because if i was, would i do this?’

then she reached up to cup his jaw and met his lips and she could see it all. the stars, the moons and her entire future. with him.

after what felt like an eternity of bliss they broke apart and rested their foreheads against each other’s. ‘i love you james potter, more than you’ll ever know.’ she whispered.

‘oh i know, because i love you an infinity times more lily evans.’

so as she left the dorm that night, both of their eyes shining with something new and so so much brighter, he called out ‘so does this mean we’re together now evans?’ with a grin in his words.

she turned around, smiling and eyes sparkling.

‘us? never.’