#amari articulates

[astral-amari]

started Pyre and man, supergiant really does not fucking miss on the visual standpoint!! this shit is so cool! also so far I'm really loving the gameplay it's loads of fun!

[amaritheartist]

Noel is fine. He's just in Spain. On a kayaking trip with Tim Stoker.

[sinkableruby]

do you think Ougi could make friends with which Monogatari characters?

oh what a wonderful ask

you came to the right person for this

spoilers (up to amarimonogatari, as well as ougimonogatari but you can skip them if you want) (none of the spoilers except the ones for ougimonogatari are specific i should mention, and even those ones are very minor. you should have read at least musubi id say)

hmm i have no ranking so i will go through them

i think they could be friends with nadeko (in fact i am writing a short fic about that that i will release eventually, probably after my next big fic). (! also some general spoilers for amari for this part !) i say this because nadekos on a path to become an oddity specialist, has met ougi a few times, and also (perhaps most importantly) gets along with yotsugi very well. i think yotsugi and nadeko's friendship is so sweet (the artist and the artist's modeling figurine...) but it makes me think that nadeko would have insight into an oddity's perspective (not to mention that she's Been an oddity) that would make her a candidate for friendship with ougi. like she could definitely handle ougi's chaoticness and i think it'd be a very fun dynamic between the two where nadeko wouldnt yield to or get pushed around by ougi. she'll always have a bit of darkness in her heart and ougi would probably appreciate that lol. not to mention ougi likes her manga and i cant articulate it but this is a crucial factor. like i think as of nademonogatari it couldnt happen, but as time goes on, like a long amount of time i think theres a possibility. itd probably always be a little shaky given their history but given all the changes i just mentioned i think it could happen eventually.

oh this is an aside, but ougi cant be friends with araragi. its not possible. its like. its like if youre already maxed out closeness with someone you cant just go redefining that relationship its already done. ougi and araragi start out with their social links maxed theyre the closest they could possibly be so they can only stay there or drift apart (which they do. which is a good thing). on that note i think they could be friends if they weren't the same person because they would actually be able to get closer and define the relationship instead of having the preset filled out which is also also something i am writing a (longer) fic about for a human/college au type thing

now with kanbaru i think it is possible even in canon. with araragi, not only would i say its bad for ougi to stay attached to him and for him to stay attached to them, but i would also say he's kind of cold and like. tries to avoid them lol. which ig makes sense for him but like ouch dude dont be such a stranger that was literally you once dont act like theyre gonna ruin your life again just cause u said hi to them damn. on the other hand kanbaru we learn in musubi does visit ougi and actually maintains the relationship (she was always more social than araragi anyway). we know what their relationship is like already its ougi torturing kanbaru and just being the funniest little fellow so theres not much to comment on here.

now theres an interesting tidbit in ougimonogatari (you can skip this part if you want but its not major) where hachikuji gets info on the current mystery from ougi, who gets lost at midnight to talk to her, and its implied that theyre close. i love the idea of this friendship between them it sounds really chill. its also implied that ougi is a night owl so i can imagine like them wandering around in the mystical late night/early morning hours and chatting with the local god. and i think they would even have a much different dynamic from araragi's dynamic with hachikuji, bc araragi only sees her when hes lost and so there's an element of hachikuji offering advice that defines their relationship, but i think this would be different in ougis relationship with hachikuji (esp considering they seem to just. get lost on purpose. which idk how that works but cool). if anything, ougi would probably help with protecting the town, pointing out things for hachikuji to watch out for, and then it would probably turn into pleasant conversation from there. i imagine hachikuji would want to check in on them as the god of the town (and as a friend, and just bc shes kind like that), and hachikuji could talk philosophy with ougi and offer her own perspective on things. in that sense it becomes a friendship where they r both trying to help each other. also since hachikuji still cant be seen by people who arent lost (i think this is confirmed in musubi), i think she'd enjoy talking to someone without feeling bad about knowing they were in some kind of bind or struggle. itd be less stressful for her i imagine. so yeah i think theyd just have a mutual help thing that would also include fun chill conversations for the both of them.

yotsugi and ougi... i think it depends a lot on how they meet, what point they meet at, and like. yotsugis mood. bc even with nadeko yotsugi sometimes says theyre not friends and sometimes says theyre besties. shes just like that so i dont think they could ever truly (or i guess, Always) be friends just bc yotsugi consistently is inconsistent. at the same time, ougi is also consistently inconsistent albeit in slightly more consistent ways, they are both kind of toxic, they both give off uncanny impressions (in the theoretical freudian/uncanny valley sense where ononoki is a corpse doll and ougi is just. clearly inhuman in some way but you cant put your finger on how exactly), and they both have the same oddity mindset of "functioning," as a tool in yotsugi's case (she says it a lot in amarimonogatari) or towards a purpose in ougi's case (she says it in owari ge and just. you can tell from how they talk that thats how theyre framing things). so itd be cool bc they have a lot in common... but also, because they both have in common a very work-oriented mindset they might not like. actually develop the friendship outside of like very coincidentally doing a job together for whatever reason (smh at these two girlbosses). i think if they did become friends theyd diss other people together LOL gossip crew. i dont think the friendship is that likely honestly theyre much much more likely to just tolerate each other but i guess you could see their similarities as more proof for why i think ougi and nadeko could be friends lol.

ougi and tsukihi!!!!! yes!!!!!!!!!!! yes yes yes yes yes yes i love it!!!! i want to see it!!!!!!! they have a nice conversation in ougi dark as well as an audio commentary together... what i like about it so much is that tsukihi is so unstoppable and good at putting people off balance that ougi cant completely evade it with their evasion techniques. even ougi can be forced to play the straight man when faced with tsukihi lol. tsukihi is a force of nature, and ougi is also fond of this about her. and tsukihi kind of respects ougi as well from what we get in ougi dark (again light novels) so they have positive regard towards each other and lots of potential for a good friendship i think. what sticks out to me is that in ougi dark i imagine ougi is probably aware before she tries to ahem do a bit of trolling on tsukihi that its not going to be successful because araragi wont see her as anything but his sister. so suddenly it feels like way more of an intimate thing there where ougi is just sorta talkin about stuff before she (presumably in her mind at least) goes to her death. like that whole scene is so cool because ougis strategy for sort-of-not-really-exterminating-tsukihi is kinda partly criticizing her but more than that relating to her (as they both have the same kind of 'false identity') and opening herself up to her a bit... and besides like. the last episode of ougi dark lol, its the biggest moment of vulnerability we see ougi in (and she is willingly putting herself in it instead of being so mysterious as always), and its something that tsukihi also sees! (and doesnt rly know what to do with, which is also kinda interesting to me because shes such a self assured person) and that feels like it could lead to smth really interesting later. and in that scene it really does feel like theyre just kinda enjoying each others company esp on the bike, its calm and quiet and relaxed. i feel like after ougi has separated from araragi some more is when they could have a really nice friendship with tsukihi. back to their dynamics, i think it would sometimes be just very lowkey like in ougi dark which seems rather uncommon for someone like tsukihi, like ougi would bring up interesting topics of discussions and they'd have little mini debates about it that would really be more like chill discussions and itd be nice. and then other times it would be like tsukihi is screaming and all and dragging ougi somewhere to do something with her lol. they have a nice understanding between them..... ah i love it sm. and not to mention they are both so good at fucking up peoples lives it'd be a bonding point b/w them tbh.

UGH SEE THIS IS THE SORT OF THING NISIOISIN SHOULD BE WRITING WHATS HE DOING??? "OUGI IS A SIDE CHARACTER" MY ASS THEYRE ONLY A SIDE CHARACTER BC YOURE MAKING THEM BE THAT WAY GIVE THEM MORE CAMEOS DAMNIT AGH BEING RELEGATED TO THE SIDE DOESNT HAVE TO BE THE END ALL BE ALL SMH SMH........ at least i can write fanfiction instead

thank you for this ask highlight of my day dropped everything to answer it

[ellabina]

The Rationale Behind Kim And Khloé Kardashian's Persistent Defence

Khloé Kardashian and Kim Kardashian may not endorse all of Tristan Thompson's actions, but they are steadfast in their decision to maintain a relationship with him. In the recent episode of The Kardashians, the sisters articulated their reasons for standing by and supporting the NBA player, despite his previous transgressions, such as infidelity towards Khloé on multiple occasions.These revelations followed Khloé, aged 39, sharing about Tristan, aged 32, and his responsibility as the primary caregiver for his younger brother Amari, following the passing of their mother Andrea. Tristan is currently residing with Khloé while his residence undergoes renovation.

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[amari-arts]

Hey! I’m an artist/animator who’s looking for some collaborative projects and a general following so I can get actual input on what works with my art and what doesn’t! could yall gimme a shoutout or mention me to your friends? thanks <3

[whispelanix]

@ghoulified-owl @hyper-cryptic

I SEE YOU BOTH WITH YOUR AMARI AS HANCOCK’S MOTHER FIGURE HEADCANONS, and I’d like to present to you a thought I had in regards to said headcanon:

I recon if he ever developed feelings for someone, Amari would be the first one he’d tell.

Just envision Hancock developing feelings for Sole but being unable to articulate what these emotions are because he’s not use to romantic feelings. He goes to Amari describing all these symptoms he’s having, thinking he’s coming down with an illness or rare disease. He mentions feeling flustered, increased heart rate, stumbling over words, feeling strangely warm inside. But that it only ever happens around Sole.

Amari gives him a checkup and Hancock’s like “tell me you know what’s wrong with me, Doc” and Amari’s like “I diagnose you with infatuation”.

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #34

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: The penultimate chapter everyone, can you believe it? How far we’ve come together. Just as a little heads up, I will be uploading the last chapter of this story (🥺) in one go with the epilogue. So if you happen to see the epilogue first, know there is a ‘little’ (totally not little) chapter still waiting for you.

Thank you to everyone who let me borrow their OCs, I did a little round up of everyone in this chapter. Lizzie’s wonderful friends are belonging to:

Katriona ,KC’ Cassiopeia: @kc-needs-coffee

Judith Harris: @judediangelo75

Ira Janda, Julian Bennett: @slytherindisaster

Azariah Steele: @cursebreakerfarrier

Henry McClarnon: @thatravenpuffwitch

Also massive thanks to my favourite girl @the-al-chemist for helping with the structure and reading over. You know I love you 💛

Word Count: ~ 5.600

_______________________________________

Chapter 34: Victory

“Hufflepuff is this year’s reigning Quidditch champion!”

Murphy hadn’t even finished shouting into his megaphone when Skye, Lizzie and everyone around them erupted into screams of joy. Skye flung her arms around Lizzie’s neck, hugging her mid-air, half sobbing, half shouting “We did it! We did it!” into her ear over and over again. Lizzie didn’t even have any words to articulate the rush of emotions running through her all at once. She felt euphoric, happy, exhausted and unbelievably relieved that her plan hadn’t backfired on them. Syke was right, they had really done it.

They had won the House Cup.

Still hugging and jumping up and down on their brooms, Lizzie and Skye were slowly drifting downwards, landing roughly on the soft grass. The impact almost knocked them over but they couldn’t care less. They were basking in the cheers coming from the hollering stands, their grins so wide their cheeks were hurting.

Lizzie could see Skye’s father and Professor Sprout giving them standing ovations and even Professor McGonagall was clapping, albeit not as enthusiastically as the rest. Murphy was beaming from ear to ear, remaining silent for once and letting the team have the full attention of the crowd.

One after the other their teammates were landing next to them. Lizzie found herself hugging Judith and even Everett in her enthusiasm; all of their animosities were forgotten over the raw joy of achieving their incredible last minute win. In this moment what had happened wasn’t important anymore; the only thing that counted was that they had reached their common goal and the Cup was theirs.

And then, all of a sudden, Orion was there, his eyes shining with pride and a beaming smile on his face. He swept her into an embrace and spun her around, neither one of them caring the slightest bit what anyone else might be thinking. Lizzie was laughing as she held onto him, feeling nothing but elation; she couldn’t imagine a more perfect moment.

Orion sat her down and Lizzie was swaying for a moment, feeling slightly dizzy from being spun around, too much sunlight and the feeling of Orion’s arms around her. Still smiling, he raised his hand to her face and cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her flushed skin. The expression in his eyes was so soft as they found hers, the butterflies exploding in Lizzie’s stomach seemed to fill her up completely; the fluttery feeling combined with the adrenaline rushing through her body made her feel as if she was still flying.

He opened his mouth to say something when a sudden movement to their side made both of them turn their heads; Judith and Skye had sneaked up on them and were on the verge of upending a giant barrel of butterbeer over their heads. Lizzie tried to move out of its way immediately, but Orion quickly got hold of her wrist and pulled her back.

“You’re staying right where you are,” he laughed before the ice cold liquid was hitting them. Lizzie shrieked and closed her eyes as the butterbeer washed over her face and found its way down the back of her jersey. She buried her face against Orion’s now soaked Quidditch robes and could feel the vibration in his chest as he laughed. She couldn’t help her smile widening as he held her even closer.

“I knew you could do it, Chaser,” he whispered against her hair.

Lizzie pulled away and smiled up at him; a light giggle escaped her as she was taking in their drenched state. “We did it all together.”

Orion gently brushed a strand of wet hair out of her face. “As a team.”

She covered his hand resting on her cheek with hers, her eyes finding his again. His long, dark hair was just as soaked as hers was, but he obviously couldn’t care less. Lizzie’s eyes flickered down to his lips for a moment; the soft smirk forming on them made her hold her breath. Her wish to kiss him right here and now was close to overwhelming.

But before she could give in to it, her gaze flicked over Orion’s shoulder to where she could see the members of the defeated Gryffindor team lying in the grass. The misery they were radiating was a stark contrast to their own overjoyed celebration.

She could see Julian comforting a broken looking Henry; Azariah was lying on his back, staring into the sky with a blank expression and the two Chasers were silently talking between themselves, shaking their heads in disbelief.

Charlie was sitting apart from them; his head was hanging low, his windswept red hair obscuring most of his face. The rest was hidden his hand covering his eyes, while the other was still clutching the Golden Snitch, that was gleaming in the sunlight.

The sight of her friend's devastation felt like a jab to Lizzie’s heart. Her face twisting with sympathy, she placed a hand on Orion’s chest and gently pushed him away. He followed her gaze with a slight frown, before he nodded in comprehension.

He inclined his head in Charlie’s direction. “Go to him; he is in need of a friend right now.”

Lizzie knew she should go and it wasn’t like she didn’t want to; she just didn’t want to let go of Orion again so soon. Sensing her hesitation, he gently nudged her forward.

“Go,” he repeated. “We’ll have our moment later.”

Finally breaking free of him, Lizzie walked past her teammates and towards the Gryffindors. She stopped by every one of them for a moment, either trying to cheer them up or offer some words of comfort. When she reached the lone figure of her best friend, she stopped and knelt down beside him.

“Hey.”

At the sound of her voice, Charlie raised his bleak eyes to look at her for a moment. “Congratulations, I guess,” he managed to croak out before hanging his head again.

“Thank you,” Lizzie answered sincerely. She put a hand on his forearm, squeezing it gently. “You put up an incredible fight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

Charlie shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Didn’t help much, did it? You won, we lost; there’s no way of talking around it.”

“It could have gone down either way; it was a matter of seconds.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I can’t believe I caught the Snitch only one bloody moment too late.” He choked out a bitter laugh and held the golden ball up for her to see.

“Looks like it’s me who gets the consolation prize in the end.”

He looked past her to her laughing teammates. “What are you doing over here anyway, champ? Don’t tell me you’re ditching your team for us moping lot?”

Lizzie sat down next to him onto the grass and nudged him with her shoulder. “I’m ditching my team for a friend who could use a bit of comfort right now,” she responded with a smile.

Charlie’s eyes trailed from her towards the Hufflepuffs again, who were busy hoisting a laughing Orion up on their shoulders.

“Even him?”

She had followed his gaze and nodded. “Even him.”

Charlie huffed but gave her a small grin, nonetheless. “That means a lot, Liz, thank you. But you deserved to win this time; you more than anyone.”

Lost in thought, Lizzie had been watching Orion celebrating with their friends. It was only now that she saw Charlie had been watching her in turn. Not sure if he was still talking about the match, Lizzie blushed a deep scarlet that almost matched Charlie’s robes; her flustered state made him grin mischievously.

“You’d better watch out though, pineapple,” he teased her, “there’s always next season. I’ll be damned if I let you defend that title; we’ll make sure the Cup gets back to where it belongs.”

Happy to see Charlie’s fighting spirit return, Lizzie dipped her head back and laughed. “Not if I can help it, Weasley!”

She scrambled to her feet and offered Charlie her hand. “Do I see you at the party later?”

It was a tradition to celebrate the closing of the Quidditch season with a big outdoor event down by the Black Lake. Generally considered one of the highlights of the years, it wasn’t only for the members of the winning House but for everyone in the school. As it was the last chance to have a bit of fun before the stress of their exams would take up all of their focus, most of the students had been looking forward to it for weeks.

Charlie, however, didn’t seem too thrilled at the prospect. He looked Lizzie up and down with a sigh.

“Would you accept a ‘no’ for an answer?”

“No,” Lizzie chuckled.

“Then I don’t think I have a choice, really,” Charlie smirked before wrapping his arm around her shoulder to march her back to her team. “I’ve got to celebrate my favourite badger girl, after all.”

*

Lizzie was probably one of the last ones left in the castle when she was finally able to make her way down to the lake. The sunlight had turned from bright to golden and was painting the landscape around her in an alternating pattern of light and shadow.

After the potion Ira had given her had worn off, the bone crushing hug from a sobbing Penny had made the pain of her injury flare up again with full force. When her knees had buckled from the sharp sting, Orion and Ira had been adamant she’d go to the Hospital Wing at once; her ribs had hurt too badly for Lizzie to even consider objecting.

Madam Pomfrey had been miffed when she had checked her up, muttering something about “This bloody Quidditch business” under her breath. To Lizzie’s relief, Ira’s initial assessment had been right and her ribs weren’t broken after all.

“I’d much rather you’d have come straight to me, Miss Jameson,” Madam Pomfrey had declared sternly. “Teenagers,” she had sighed,” always think they know better.”

She had been watching Lizzie reproachfully while preparing the ingredients for another painkiller potion, which was supposed to get her through the night.

Before she had left, Lizzie had made sure to check up on Brian; as it turned out, he wasn’t allowed to leave the Hospital Wing due to a mild concussion. He was miserable about not being able to celebrate with the rest of them, but otherwise he seemed to be alright.

“Kiss the Cup for me, will you?” he had asked her with a laugh as she had been about to leave.

Lizzie’s answer had been cut short by the scolding look of Madam Pomfrey, who had appeared by Brian’s bedside. “I thought there was an event you were desperate to attend, Miss Jameson,” she had chided her, albeit with the hint of a smile. “If you don’t want to spend the night here alongside your friend, you had better leave now before I change my mind.”

As she was walking along the path that would lead her to the Black Lake, Lizzie was enjoying having a little time on her own. It was a welcome change to the busy moments after the match, when her housemates had flooded the pitch and congratulations had been passed all around. It gave her the opportunity to let everything sink in.

They had won; they had really, actually done it.

Her team had come out on top; even after all the mess that had been going down this year, they had managed to get a grip and pull each other through. Lizzie felt overwhelmingly happy; never before had she been so proud of her team, of Skye, of Orion, even of herself.

She remembered the feeling of weightlessness when Orion had picked her up and spun her around; neither of them had cared about anyone else in that moment and it had felt so right; today, everything was feeling right.

Lizzie smiled to herself as she reached the shoreline, an unmistakable bounce in her steps. Whatever the evening might be bringing, she was looking forward to it; she had earned the right to just enjoy herself for a change.

When Lizzie heard two voices calling her name, she slowed her steps and turned around. It was Andre and Charlie, undoubtedly headed into the same direction as her. Tapping her foot in mock impatience, she waited for them to catch up.

Andre smiled brightly when they reached her. “Look who it is, Charlie.”

“The reigning Quidditch champion,” Charlie continued, now in a decidedly better mood after he’d had time to stomach the match. “May we escort you to your victory party?”

Both boys went up to either side of Lizzie and linked arms with her as they marched her along. She had to giggle at their overly solemn expressions.

“You may,” she laughed. “But why are you so late?”

Charlie rolled his eyes and jerked his head in Andre’s direction. “Someone needed to get dressed properly.”

It was only now that Lizzie noticed the giant badger on Andre’s blue shirt he was wearing under his jacket. She raised her eyebrows in astonishment and chuckled.

“That’s a really nice gesture, Andre, but that’s not quite the right colour.”

Andre merely shrugged, however. “I’ve got to uphold some housepride at least or else Erika might kill me.” He glanced down at his newest design. “That one’s risky enough as it is.”

*

As expected, the party was already in full swing when they arrived. Several stalls had been set up at the shore of the Black Lake and the houselves had given it their all to provide them with delicious food and drinks. They were all centred around a giant bonfire that was blazing brightly in the slowly descending darkness of the evening.

The stalls were decorated in yellow and black banners, as were the comfortable looking seats that had been grouped together all over the place. The image of the Hufflepuff badger was a common sight wherever Lizzie was looking. To add to the atmosphere, numerous strings of fairy lights had been put up in between the branches and down the stems of the trees.

The place was packed with laughing and chatting students; Charlie and Andre went to get something to drink and Lizzie found herself wandering around the site, looking for any sign of her friends.

She spotted the familiar strawberry blond head of KC over to the side of the bonfire. She was sitting in one of the cushioned garden chairs with a bottle of butterbeer in her hand. Her head was dipped back in laughter at something Rath had just said; knowing the tall blonde girl, it had undoubtedly been some wry remark about the course of the game.

Where KC was Murphy was never far and sure enough, he was lounging in the chair next to her. He was gesturing wildly towards the two girls with sparkling eyes, confirming Lizzie’s suspicion that they were indeed still talking about the match.

Sitting next to Murphy, Orion was attentively listening to the ongoing discussion. He was looking as deeply relaxed as Lizzie had ever seen him. As if sensing someone’s attention being on him, he turned his head. As their eyes met, a smile tugged at his lips and he motioned for her to join them with the smallest movement of his head. The shift of Orion’s focus didn’t escape KC; she nudged him with her foot before bending over to him and whispering something into his ear, making Orion laugh and shake his head.

Lizzie felt a smile forming on her face. There was nothing she would have liked more than heading over to her friends right now. For the first time since she had arrived at Hogwarts last September, she felt completely certain of what she wanted; it was as if reaching their shared goal today had cleared her mind of all the doubts that she had been carrying with her.

But there was one thing she had to do first. Although it was incredibly hard to do, she turned her back on her friends and scanned the crowd for a different face.

After a moment, Lizzie spotted who she had been looking for; through a gap in between several groups of people, Lizzie could make out the familiar figure of Rowan. She was on her own and - just like Lizzie herself - she seemed to be searching the crowd as well. When their eyes met, they started walking towards each other.

“I’ve been looking for you!” both girls exclaimed simultaneously when they had reached each other, before they burst into laughter; it felt easy and carefree, almost like it used to be.

“Congratulations on winning the House Cup; you were amazing!” To Lizzie’s surprise, Rowan hugged her tightly. “Penny, Tonks and I were almost dying watching you play; what a match!”

A touch of worry flickered over her face as her eyes dropped to Lizzie’s ribcage, where the Bludger had hit her. “How are your ribs? Ira told us they’re bruised pretty badly.”

“She’s right, but nothing’s broken or anything,” Lizzie shrugged. “Madam Pomfrey gave me another painkiller potion for tonight, but it will probably hurt like hell tomorrow.”

Lizzie didn’t want to talk about her injury right now. She thought about how the whole school must have seen Orion embrace her after the match; Rowan must have done so, too. Lizzie was sick and tired of this ridiculous fight with her; she wanted to sort things out with her friend once and for all.

She took a deep breath. “Listen, Ro, we need to talk.”

Much to her surprise, Rowan responded immediately. “Yes, I know. That’s why I’ve been looking for you; I wanted to apologise.”

Lizzie had already opened her mouth to reply when her brain registered Rowan’s unexpected words. Not knowing what to say, she blinked in confusion.

“You want what now?”

Rowan’s gaze dropped to the ground and she rubbed her arm uncomfortably. “When that Bludger hit you and you were hanging from that banner, I was so scared for you,” she muttered quietly, her eyes still trained on the tips of her shoes. “I mean, we all were, of course; Penny even nearly cried. But Orion was there to help you immediately and even from the Hufflepuff stands you could see how afraid he was for you.”

Rowan raised her eyes to meet Lizzie’s. The different emotions shining in them were hard to pinpoint; it was a mixture of sadness, resignation and, strangely enough, something resembling relief.

“And seeing the two of you after the game was over…” Rowan’s voice trailed off and she swallowed the lump in her throat. “It’s just so obvious how much he cares for you.”

Lizzie slowly breathed out, not quite daring to believe what she was hearing. “So you’re not mad?” she asked tentatively. “I promised you to stay away from him after all.”

Rowan sighed. “Yes, and you did. I’ll be honest with you, I really thought if we could just pretend like none of this had happened, it would make me feel better; and maybe even make the two of us better again, too. I was so hurt and angry at you; you are such an admirable person, Lizzie, so many girls want to be just like you,” Rowan sniffed and her voice broke slightly, “I just didn’t want you to have him on top of it.”

Lizzie felt her own voice becoming breathy. “You don’t have to be like anyone else, Ro; you’re perfect just the way you are.”

But Rowan shook her head and pressed her lips together. “No, I’m not. I deliberately hurt you to feel better about myself. But it didn’t work, I only felt bad for asking something horrible like this from you and making all of us unhappy in the process.”

Her shoulders slumped as she hung her head. “I acted like the worst friend imaginable, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Lizzie asked incredulously. “If anyone should apologise, it’s me. I never should have risked our friendship like I did, I should have been honest with you from the beginning.” She laid her hand on Rowan’s arm and smiled when she lifted her head again. “Believe me, Rowan, no matter what you think, you’re always important to me.”

She hesitated to go on and gathered her courage before she continued. “But Orion is, too,” she said timidly. “It’s not for show or about wanting to be with someone I’m not supposed to be with. I really care about him.”

“I know,” Rowan sighed and pushed her glasses up her nose, “I guess I was more intrigued by the idea I had of him than by him himself.”

An encouraging smile formed on Rowan’s face. “But you, Lizzie, you know him, the real him. Not the Quidditch captain or the guy who loves broom balancing and nebulous answers, just him. And believe me, you matter to Orion as well, anyone can see that; you two belong together.”

Not knowing what to say, Lizzie took a step forward and threw her arms around her best friend’s neck. “Thank you.”

She was more than relieved when Rowan returned the hug. “What for,” she laughed before letting go again. She placed her hands on Lizzie’s shoulders, turned her around and pushed her forward.

“Now go and find him before I change my mind.” Rowan’s eyes swept over the crowd and a concerned frown appeared over the top of her glasses. “I need to check on Tulip and Tonks, they were talking about tinkering with some firecrackers earlier.”

She adjusted the Prefect badge on her jumper, gave Lizzie another smile and quickly vanished in the crowd. Lizzie watched after her for a second before she turned around as well.

Just as she started walking towards where Orion was still sitting with their friends, Penny jumped on her out of nowhere grabbing her arm.

“There you are!” she squealed. “Where in Godric’s name have you been?”

Lizzie wanted to reply but didn’t get a chance before Penny forcefully dragged her towards a big group of people standing close to the central bonfire. She was constantly babbling with excitement. “He is here, Lizzie, can you believe it! Ethan Parkin is here. At our victory party! This is incredible, he is incredible, all of this is incredible!”

She tugged at Lizzie’s arm impatiently. “Come on now, he has been asking about you several times already!”

As they were approaching the huge crowd that had gathered near the blazing fire, Lizzie could make out Ethan and Skye standing at its centre. The House Cup was sitting next to them on the grass, its silver handles decorated with black and yellow ribbons. The giant trophy was coming up higher than Skye’s knees; when Madam Hooch and Professor Dumbledore had handed it over to Orion at the ceremony on the pitch, Lizzie had been able to see how he had momentarily struggled to lift it over his head; Lizzie and Skye had only managed to do the same when they had tried it together.

Now, Skye was glancing down at the Cup every now and again, still unable to believe she had finally achieved what she had dreamed of ever since. Her father, on the other hand, paid the glinting trophy no mind; his hand was resting on Skye’s shoulder, his face beaming with pride. He was talking animatedly to his awed onlookers; Lizzie could see Skye was blushing and trying not to roll her eyes. She sighed inwardly; Ethan Parkin was probably talking about his favourite subject: himself and his illustrious adventures with the Wigtown Wanderers.

But when Penny pushed them through the crowd towards the front, Lizzie was surprised to hear that Ethan Parkin wasn’t gushing about his family’s club after all; instead, he was recounting the course of their match in such painstaking details it could have put Murphy to shame. He took a special joy in painting all of Skye’s free throws, goals and special manoeuvres in the brightest colours to the adoring masses; her last move in particular had him bursting with pride.

“If you ask me, that Keeper stood no chance from the moment she got her hands on the Quaffle,” he was declaring just now. “It’s a special technique my Skye has, Parkin family secret, of course; just knew she wouldn’t fail her shot.”

He interrupted his monologue and his eyes lit up as they discovered Lizzie. He nudged Skye with his elbow.

“Look who’s here, Skye; seems like we finally found your missing mate. Wondered where you might be at, lassie.”

Lizzie motioned to her ribcage. “I had to go and get my ribs checked.”

“Aye, that one looked like it hurt. I know what a Bludger to the rips feels like, but let me tell you, a good player always pulls through, no matter what.”

He clapped a heavy hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “Well done, lass, you did a fine job out there. You lot can learn from this one,” he proclaimed to his fans, still squeezing Lizzie’s shoulder. “Takes some strength of character to recognise when your teammate’s abilities are greater than your own; right decision of Lizzie to pass the Quaffle to Skye, it was the key to their victory.”

Like Skye before, Lizzie was trying not to roll her eyes. “If you say so, Mr. Parkin.”

“How often do I need to tell you, call me Ethan.”

Lizzie smiled noncommittally. “At least one more time, Mr. Parkin.”

He laughed jovially and turned to his fans again, recounting some other detail of their match; Lizzie wasn’t even listening anymore. Using her father’s distraction, Skye took her chance and pulled Lizzie away from the crowd for a moment.

Looking back over her shoulder, she rubbed her neck in embarrassment. “Sorry dad’s so enthusiastic. Don’t listen to him boasting about me, you were smashing today.”

“As were you,” Lizzie smiled.

A smug grin stole onto Skye’s face. “Yeah, we did quite a good job, didn’t we?” Seemingly out of nowhere her expression turned serious again. “But don’t you think I don’t know what you were doing.”

Out of nowhere Skye nudged Lizzie’s shoulder, maybe a bit more forceful than she had meant to.

“Ouch! What was that for!

Skye ignored Lizzie’s complaints. “You were at your favourite distance for that last goal; you always make that shot.” She set her index finger onto Lizzie’s chest to accentuate her words. “Don’t you ever dare to risk a win like that again, you hear me, Jameson?”

Before Lizzie could say anything in her defence, Skye had hugged her tightly. “But thank you anyway.”

Lizzie grinned when Skye abruptly let go of her only seconds later. “What’s that now, Parkin? Are you going soft on me or what?”

Skye huffed and laughed out loud. “You wish, Jameson!”

With a last genuine smile at her friend, Skye returned to her father’s side. Lizzie couldn’t help but smile to herself taking in the scene. Despite all the pressure he had put his daughter through, knowingly or not, Ethan was now looking down at Skye with overwhelming pride; Lizzie wasn’t sure if she had ever seen Skye being happier than in this exact moment.

She stayed with the Parkins for a little while longer until Lizzie felt it wouldn’t be impolite to leave anymore. She was tired of Ethan’s constant droning, even if it was about Quidditch.

Lizzie was impatient to finally get her chance to talk to Orion now, but when she turned to the place her friends had been occupying earlier, she found it deserted; none of them was anywhere to be seen.

Not really knowing what to do, Lizzie started aimlessly strolling around the party, hopping from group to group, chatting with all sorts of people here and there.

So many happy faces were smiling at her as she moved through the crowd, congratulating her and clapping her on the back. Even her Gryffindor friends were seemingly enjoying themselves in this cheerful environment.

Lizzie could see Azariah laughing with Charlie and Andre, his arm draped around Ira’s shoulder; the curly haired Hufflepuff had her head resting against him and smiled from time to time. A bit further on, Julian and Henry were joking with each other, both raising their butterbeers in her direction when they saw her walking by. Sitting a little more secluded from the rest of the crowd, Lizzie could even spot Judith and her boyfriend Talbott; she was surprised to see the evasive Ravenclaw boy make an appearance at such a busy place, but then again, judging by the adoring looks he gave his girlfriend, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Judith.

Upon seeing all of her friends so relaxed and happy, a warm and fuzzy feeling was spreading inside Lizzie’s chest. As she leaned against a tree and took a sip of her butterbeer, however, she couldn’t help but feel a bit lost without having one of her own close friends to talk to.

Completely lost in her thoughts, the sudden sound of a familiar voice close to her ear almost made her jump out of her skin.

“Looking for someone, Chaser?”

Turning around, Lizzie found Orion standing behind her with a smirk on his face. Trying to ignore her wildly beating heart, Lizzie broke into a smirk of her own.

“What makes you think I’m looking for someone?”

“Aren’t we always looking for something or the other?” he responded casually, but the smile on his lips was mirrored in his eyes..

“I guess you’re right,” Lizzie mused, “but the someone I’ve been looking for is rather hard to catch tonight.”

Orion laughed quietly, the warm sound making Lizzie’s heart skip a beat. “I take it you’re drawing from your own rich pool of experience. You’ve been as elusive as a beam of sunlight this whole year; always visible, but impossible to get hold of.”

“Well, here I am.” She sighed in mock exasperation and rested her elbow on Orion’s shoulder. “But alas, the one I was looking for isn’t.”

Orion chuckled, clearly unimpressed by her teasing. Lizzie fought to not lose her composure as she felt his hand on her back, his touch giving her goosebumps all over.

“Is that so?” he whispered into her ear before drawing back again. “I fear you’ll have to make do with me.”

Lizzie tilted her head and grinned. “I think I can live with that.”

The atmosphere between them felt different; even when they had been nothing but friends, they had never spoken to each other in such a light, teasing manner before. However, this new dynamic felt completely natural. All the tension and strain that had hung between them for the better part of the year had vanished into thin air; Lizzie was loving every second of it.

Her breath hitched as she felt Orion adjust his hand on her back, his fingers grazing lightly over her spine.

“In fact,” he conceded, “Rowan mentioned you were looking for me.”

Surprised, Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “She did?”

Although Rowan had said she was alright with it, Lizzie was still glad to see that she had actually meant it. The thought of not having to lie to anyone anymore felt wonderful and strange at the same time.

“I’m as surprised as you are. I take it, the two of you were finally able to make peace?”

Lizzie sighed with relief. “Yes, neither one of us was what you’d call a perfect friend lately.”

Orion’s smile grew softer. “Perfection is a matter of perspective, isn’t it?”

Unable to think of a witty response, Lizzie’s cheeks blushed a deep scarlet and her eyes dropped to the ground. The atmosphere had shifted yet again, and she could feel the butterflies dancing in her stomach; she wasn’t entirely sure whether they were stemming more from nerves or excitement.

She was spared an answer, however, when a high, whistling sound suddenly cut through the air, directly followed by a mix of shrieks and laughter. The unmistakable cackling of Tonks and Tulip was clearly discernible above it; Lizzie recalled Rowan’s concern about seeing them meddling with some firecrackers.

Unimpressed by the commotion, Orion shot her a sideways glance. “What do you say, let’s leave the crowd to themselves and their fireworks for a bit?”

Lizzie tore her gaze away from the colourful sparks erupting over where the two troublemakers were undoubtedly working their magic and smiled at him.

“Sounds like a good plan, Captain.”

They left their spot under the tree and moved through the crowd that was flocking towards the commotion. Orion was walking in front of Lizzie, quickly gaining ground on her as the stream of people was thickening.

Breathing in deeply, Lizzie gathered her courage and lightly placed a hand on his arm before he was out of reach.

“Wait for me, will you?”

Orion looked back over his shoulder and waited for her to catch up with him. When she was closer, Lizzie let her hand travel down from where she had touched him to his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. Her heart was beating frantically as she felt the slight pressure of his fingers against the back of her hand.

Neither of them saw the surprised looks they were attracting as they broke free from the crowd, nor the badly contained smiles of their friends as they passed them. And even if Lizzie had noticed, at this very moment, she couldn’t have cared less.

[mushroom-gt]

1 then 7 for morty and thana

1 - favourite oc? - last time i answered this i said amari, and i do still adore her (and all of my ocs), but i think thana has taken over as my number one fave. i can't even really articulate why, i just love her a lot

7 - what type of music would this oc listen to? - thana enjoys soft, synthy chip music and other electronica. morty canonically only knows about math rock and the happy birthday song and he doesn't understand what the big deal is about music

[docholligay]

Pharah / Mercy: Who’s the big and little spoon?

Fareeha Amari had never quite figured out a way to explain that she required little in the way of physical affection, owing to being passed about so much as a child and becoming unaccustomed to it.

It was not that the words were difficult, but that the reaction she got was impossible to negotiate.

“I never grew accustomed to being held as a child, and so I have no need for it.” She had once said in response to one of Tracer’s incessant, questioning prattles about missing her family or the touch of a woman or some other nonsense that had nothing to do with the Raptora project.

It had been a very long six weeks, and Pharah knew more about Tracer than she had ever wanted to know about any coworker.

Tracer had fallen uncharacteristically silent, then, and when Pharah looked up, she saw the quick flick of Tracer’s eyes across her, lips pressed together in thought.

“That is the bloody saddest thing I’ve ‘eard outside a Dickens novel, Fareeha.”

“Lieutenant Amari.” She had replied.

That had been an important lesson, once again, in the necessity of simply avoiding the question. Even as the years had gone on, and her response to Tracer was less a correction and more a teasing retort that taking Emily to Oliver hardly counted as reading Dickens, however, it had never stopped being true.

But Mercy needed it. And anything Mercy needed, Pharah was happy to give.

Which wasn’t to say she didn’t enjoy it, but there were a great many things Pharah enjoyed that she had learned to go without, that she had trained herself out of needing. She had become a soldier and as hard as it had been to become that, it had proven even harder to undo it.

Mercy had lost her parents on a horrible night in Zurich when the wind was high, and there were still nights when Pharah could sense the touch of faraway horror, something that had never quite retreated into the distance, no matter how long it had been, or how many other joys and sorrows and fears had come to crowd it. It was like a patch of salted earth where nothing else ever quite grew.

And so, Pharah held her. Pharah held her because it was a thing that she could not fix, a thing she could not supply, a battle she could not win on Mercy’s behalf. This had been true from the first time Pharah had noticed the need, long before she was ever able to articulate the words “I love you.” Mercy at her right side, tucked in close, held tight against the wind and the dark and the memory.

When Pharah had lost her arm, she had simply switched sides of the bed. An inconvenience at best. She would curl herself around Mercy and protect her, all the same.

Pharah could never quite explain herself to others, not in a way that didn’t make them look at her strangely, or worse, pity her, but Mercy held her in her own way. Mercy never asked her to explain, or forced her say the things Mercy already knew were true. Mercy saw the things she said in the lunches she packed, the laundry she did, and the way she held her. Mercy heard the things she did not say, and this was her extraordinary gift.

She may not ever have needed to be held, but she did, she had come to realize, need to be loved, and appreciated, and every time she held Mercy she felt it in every beat of her heart.

[astral-amari]

I try not to talk about my personal life but I will say one thing; I'm so glad I survived. I hope you are also finding those moments that make you step back and say to yourself the same, wherever you may be and whatever you find that value in.

[amaritheartist]

[words-and-coffee]

Favourite reads of March

(In order read, trigger warnings in the ‘keep reading’)

All Boys Aren't Blue by  George M. Johnson

All Boys Aren’t Blue is a wonderful memoir, it's beautifully written and incredibly moving, I would recommend it to young adults and adults alike, it follows George from early childhood to current day and follows them through trauma, self discovery, bulling, sexual intimacy and so much more, the way George writing is incredibly approachable, candid and powerful.

4.5/5 Stars

The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett

The Vanishing Half is just a fantastic book, I adored Brit Bennett’s writing style, it’s accessible but still complex and nuanced. I read this book after hearing a lot of high praise and I found it definitely lived up to the buzz. It is the story of Desiree and Stella a pair of light skinned African American twins who run away from their colourist hometown to New Orleans, where they end up parting ways, the story follows their families as one returns home years later with her very dark skinned daughter and the other goes on to live as a white woman.

4.5/5 Stars

Passing by Nella Larsen

I read Passing as part of my 30 books I want to read before 30 and I really enjoyed it, it’s a very short book but boy does it pack a punch it’s written with depth and a tension that Nella establishes early on with high stakes for both her main characters... I also kind of enjoyed imagining that this was taking place at the same time as The Great Gatsby was happening since both were written and set in New York in the 20′s.

4.5/5 stars

Amari and the Night Brothers by  B.B. Alston

My god guys this is such a fun read, I would have been obsessed if I was younger. The story follows Amari a young girl who’s genius brother goes missing, as she determined to find him as she pursues her one clue, an invite to the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs (think harry potter meets MIB) summer camp where she must pass trials and prove that she belongs to buy time to investigate what happened to here brother. It’s really just a joy to read Amari is a fantastic protagonist and the story is phenomenal I will defiantly be picking up a copy of the squeal. 

5/5 Stars

Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 By Cho Nam-Joo

This book blew me away if I had to a favourite book for this month it would be this one, I don’t know how to properly articulate the range of emotions this book inspired in me for the many different women featured in this story. The book covers the lives of woman in all stages of life in Korea and the systemic misogyny that effects them through their lives.

5/5 Stars

Trigger warnings:

All Boys Aren't Blue by  George M. Johnson  Sexual assault, Homophobia, Racism, Racial slurs, Sexual content, Death, Grief, Deadnaming, Violence, Hate crime, Transphobia, Cancer, Drug use, Terminal illness, Incest, and Bullying

The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett  Death of parent, Domestic abuse, Dementia, Hate crime, Violence, Sexual content, Racism, Racial slurs, Pedophilia, Transphobia, Murder, and Drug use

Passing by Nella Larsen  Racial slurs, Racism, Infidelity, Toxic Relationship, Murder, Suicide, and Death

Amari and the Night Brothers by  B.B. Alston Bullying, Racism, Grief, Kidnapping, and Murder

Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 By Cho Nam-Joo Misogyny, Sexism, Sexual assault, Mental illness, Stalking, Abortion, Miscarriage, Body shaming, and Suicide

[matildashoney]

All I’ve Ever Known // The Prologue

MOODBOARD // PREVIEW // TAGS // PLAYLIST // ASKS // LYTA

Let’s talk about Harry and Amelie!

Harry’s routine is always the same before a show. All of Live on Tour has been routine, at least.

That’s because Amelie has been around for nearly the entire tour, scheduling shows around when the meetings for her latest exhibition, her biggest exhibition – twenty pieces of art centred around boundaries and the journey to accepting them as they are – are going to be held, especially the mandatory meetings in-house with Susan – the agent that she’s started working with since she saw her work at an exhibition for up and coming artists two years ago and was thoroughly impressed – and Harry wanted to be as supportive as he could be. That meant being around, even if there was a world tour of eighty some dates across the globe.

Harry’s had the threat of losing Amelie once. He wouldn’t make that mistake, again.

His schedule for the day usually begins with getting to the venue, then soundcheck and tech rehearsal while the stage is being finalised, a light meal of some sort – usually that’s just Amelie eating and Harry having coffee and sitting with her because he’s a tad bit clingy – and a workout. Harry will shower and change, dragging Amelie into the bathroom and talking to her about any emails that she’s gotten, an update on any of the art and the designs that’s she’s been working on with the film that she was signed an artistic creative director for – which he was unbelievably proud of her for – and the dates that she would have to fly home to California to attend their meetings and go over the designs that the crew was working on.

Amelie and Harry were apart for a majority of the years before, nearly nine months apart two years ago and four months last year, graciously able to reconnect towards the end of the Live on Tour dates in late October when the major meetings were coming to a close regarding the exhibition and much of the creative direction was being sent through private emails and phone conferences. Harry was grateful that Amelie was with him, now, but he knew that she was stressed beyond measure. Amelie wears herself too thin, too often, and Harry doesn’t want to see her burn out like she had a year and a half before.

Harry would get changed shortly after his shower, getting in the chair and giving hair and makeup time to do their work, this being the moment that Amelie steps aside and tends to her computer work or talking with her cousin about where the best photographs would be taken for her to sketch out for a project she was working to give Harry for Christmas, that year.

Not that Harry knew this.

Then it’s Amelie’s turn, getting dressed in an outfit that most likely matches Harry’s suit to an extent. Harris designed a few dresses and pant suits for the final show to match what Harry had had selected for himself, giving her the options. Tonight, for the final show, Amelie is wearing the black and gold sparkled pantsuit that’s tight fitting to her chest and thighs, flaring at her calves, a new nose ring hooped into her piercing, her hair a new shade of platinum and curled the way she – and he – loves so much. Not that she admits it often, but it’s always her favourite when they match; it’s their hinted way of saying that they’re together without anyone actually catching on.

Three years in, and crowds are still oblivious to the relationship that they have, and it’s something they cherish, especially with how Harry is painted in the media more often than not. Helene is always very careful with their photographs, too, never sharing too much but always giving the pictures that she has of them backstage. Those might be their favourite shots, the ones where they’re kissing or Harry’s arms are tightly wrapped around her waist, or she’s wiping lipstick off his cheeks. Always a sweet reminder that they’re there, in this together, whatever it may bring.

And by the time everyone is done getting ready, Harry is ready to eat something light, warm his voice, and head on stage. Outside is buzzing with excitement, and they can already hear the crowd singing to “Olivia”, which is Harry’s favourite. Amelie’s computer is away, all of her attention ready to be set on her man, the love of her life, and admire him do what he loves on stage.

Harry was made to be there, to be the star of the show.

And tonight, this show, is bittersweet in a lot of ways. It’s the final Live on Tour date. Coming to a close of eighty-nine shows, all around the world, ninety minutes that tens of thousands can be themselves in one room, one arena. It’s special. It’s something that not many could do. Amelie knows that she surely couldn’t. It’s admirable and brave to be vulnerable to so many people. And although Harry would have liked to write an album a bit more authentic to his sound, what he loves, Amelie is encouraging him every step of the way that now he’s seen how many people adore him and want to see him be himself. He has a million chances to get it right, to grow, to change.

Anne is there. Fay and Luca. Phoebe and her girlfriend, Deb. Brandon and Autumn. Jenny and Dan, Amaya and Amari. All of their friends.

And Amelie. Always where Harry can see her. Always where Harry can know that she’s there to support him, and love him, and be the one that will hold him tight and say that’s she’s proud of him when the show comes to a close.

All of their entourage for the evening is gathered backstage, Amari on Jenny’s waist and Amaya standing close by to Uncle Harry as they all talk and decide on where the children will stay towards the end of the show. Harry’s extremely protective of his goddaughters – and his entire family – to say the least.

Jeff walks into the dressing room, telling Harry that’s it’s time to go, that the show is about to start. Sarah and Mitch walk in behind him, greeting everyone, Adam and Clare shuffling in. Harry is smiling, his heart full of love and so much happiness that isn’t quite sure what could be better.

That’s until Amelie brings him to the side, to the quiet corner in the hallway, taking a polaroid out of her pocket, one with Amelie kissing Harry’s cheek with a smile spread ear to ear on his lips, and sticking it inside the tiny slip in his suit jacket.

“Not one person in this arena could be prouder of you than I am,” Amelie smiles, her eyes wet with tears as Harry swipes a stray beneath her lashes, “and I want you to have this near your heart, to remind you that I fucking adore you and everything you do. All the songs, all the tears, all the love. That’s all you, inside of you. Less than two years and you’ve acted in a film, released an album, done two tours, and you’ve supported me like no one else ever has. Not one person on this planet will ever know the way it is to love you, and I’m beyond grateful that you chose me. I’ll do this with you forever, Harry.”

Harry’s on the verge of tears, now, cupping her jaw and kissing her in a way that could say everything he isn’t sure how to articulate. He loves her. God, he fucking loves her. And he’s sure that he loves her more than anyone could ever love another person in the entire world. That’s why there’s a ring in his duffle bag, a ring that her grandfather gave him the day they went to visit a day before his show, telling Harry that her grandmother always said that the person that falls in love with Amelie should have it, because it would mean more to her than she would ever admit. And Harry wants to give it to her, and everyday feels like the day.

“All for you, all of this is for you, you know that? Everything I do.”

Amelie wraps her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, soaking in the way that for a moment, it’s only them and their love and how much of their life is surrounded by the way that they support each other. Her fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, not wanting to ruin his hair, even though she knows that he wouldn’t mind. And they stand that way for a few minutes, knowing that someone is going to come and whisk him away for the show to start, and Amelie will stand right where the stairs are to be the last person he sees before going on stage.

“I adore you, Harry Styles. More than anyone has ever loved another person,” Amelie whispers into his neck, and Harry pulls away for a moment to look at her. “And I am unbelievably proud of you. Not just as your girlfriend, but as your best friend.”

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” Harry stares at Amelie as if she’s hung the moon and the stars in the sky and aligned all the planets for them to live the life they’re living. Helene is hidden behind a wall, snapping pictures of the two in the middle of their moment, unable to hear the way they’re speaking so fondly of each other. They’ll want the memories, the photographs of the moment that only they shared. “You’ll be at the B Stage, right? I’m ready to sing my heart out to you.”

“Always.”

And Amelie’s right. Not one show has she missed being right there, standing in front of him, singing the words to the songs that he wrote for her, as his way to show the love that couldn’t be said in an everyday conversation.

“Harry, it’s time to go,” Tom says, kindly taking the two out of their bubble and patting Harry’s cheek. “Know where you’re going, Ames?”

Amelie smiles at the name, knowing that it’s all Harry’s doing that so many people in their life have taken to calling her that. “Always.”

“Great. Have to take him away but you’ll see him soon.”

Harry takes a deep breath, nodding to his manager and taking a few steps away and towards the huddled group in the centre of the corridor, all of his band and team and crew gathering to have a final few words before the show would begin. Amelie squeezes Harry’s hand reassuringly, stealing a kiss – not that she’s stealing much when she has about a hundred a day – and smiling, releasing him and gently nudging him towards the group, taking her backstage pass between her fingertips and walking towards the walkway of the stage, slinking down and hiding herself as security lights a path for her to the stairs. All of the band is shuffling quickly behind her, Harry talking to Jeff and giving Anne a kiss to her cheek before walking in their footsteps.

And standing there, listening to the arena cheering and screaming his name, the lights fading and the screens lifting, Harry knows that there is nothing that will replace this feeling. Euphoria, in a sense. Feeling completely at home and loved and free. He is well aware that having the love of his life there is a big part of that, because there is no better feeling than making the one you love proud of you.

There Amelie is, waiting for him at the edge of the stairs, his favourite smile on her lips, waiting to give him one last kiss before he steps on the stage, before he’s home.

“Enjoy every moment of this, baby,” Amelie smiles, taking his cheeks in her hands and kissing him sweetly. “This is all for you, you did this. I am so proud of you.” There’s a moment where they’re staring and it’s perfect. “Only Angel” is beginning to play, and the clock is ticking. “I’ll be right there singing back to you.”

“I love you,” Harry says, and there are no more words for him to express how wonderful he feels at that moment.

“All the way back to wherever you are, I love you. Always.”

One final kiss, and Harry is bounding up the steps, his in-ears pressed in place and the screams of the arena overwhelming him in the best way. His attitude changes to the stage presence that everyone loves, and he knows that this is the moment that he’ll remember forever. That this will be his, always.

Harry’s, and Amelie’s, and theirs – the fans – because there would be nothing, none of this, no opportunity to fulfil his dreams without them.

And for that, he will be forever grateful, beyond words.

Amelie rushes to walk around the stage, everyone beginning to file around her as security leads them into the arena and weaves through the audience, making sure everyone is settled in the area that Harry wants them, where he can see them. As always, Phoebe grabs Amelie’s hand, the two happily unaware of anyone recording them and the way that the tech and sound engineers are overly endeared by them. All that there is in the room is love and happiness and a whole lot of freedom that nobody could take away from them.

Amelie can’t not think about what the songs mean. Harry gave her the opportunity to really have her own interpretation of the lyrics before telling her what they’re about, the ones that she wanted to know, at least, and for a few minutes, she would sit in silence, listening to the track all over again, taking in the way he writes so elegantly about things that have cut him deep. For that, Amelie is unbelievably proud of him, because there is a lot of courage that comes along with being honest, even if Harry was still working up to being authentically himself.

Harry Styles is not about her entirely, and that’s nothing that’s ever upset her. Amelie knows there were experiences, relationships, love, heartbreak long before she was around, and there would never be a time that she would say something to make Harry think differently about what he was writing, because at the end of the day, his writing is the same as her art – therapeutic and cathartic; a way to release all of their thoughts and emotions in a healthy way, to get everything on the surface and share in the best way they know how.

Opening the show with “Only Angel” and “Woman”, there really was no need for a thoughtful interpretation. Harry including the line that Brandon said to him the day they met, that his younger sister is less than an angel and he would have to wait to find out, clearly oblivious to how their relationship came about to begin with. Harry writing in the line that was said to her as his face was between her thighs when she visited him in Jamaica while writing the album, only there for four days and he took full advantage of having her at his fingertips and as his muse. “Carolina” was always the song that made Amelie try to hide away, remembering particularly the night that they all went out and got absolutely plastered, blacked out, somehow winding up with a story of Harry nearly dragging Amelie to a toilet and taking her there, their friend bringing home a girl and telling the story of their night together the next day; and thus the song was born, a messy tale of sex and liquor and one night stands – for their friend, at least.

And everyone is dancing, singing, having the time of their lives. All of their friends and family are cheering and supporting the man she loves most in the world, and there is no greater feeling than how much she adores him and all that he’s doing.

Amelie’s arms fold in front of her chest as soon as the opening chords of “Meet Me in the Hallway” begin playing, thinking about how far they’ve come from the moments that inspired such a desperate song. That was the first song that Harry played for Amelie when showing her the album – not simply because it was first, but because he wanted to tell her why he wrote it – and there will never be a time that she listens that she doesn’t think of how much hurt their break, their arguing, their conversations caused for him barely two years ago. That’s how Harry felt, in devastating pain. There is something to be said for the way the outro to the song leads him straight to where she’s standing. Maybe Harry’s done it on purpose, maybe he hasn’t, but seeing the way his eyes light up with her standing right there says more about their love for each other than any words could.

Harry grins at Amelie, gathering his guitar and microphone and getting ready to sing the songs that are all for her, that were chosen to be sung to her, right there. He smiles as Amaya waves from where they’re standing, their Amari already falling asleep on her father’s shoulder, her headphones chunky on her head and making for a difficult way to be comfortable. His tongue wets his lips, taking a drink and playing the opening chords to “Sweet Creature” as he always does, trying his absolute best to have his emotions in tact as he stares at the love of his life crying in front of him, her eyes wet and her hand over her heart – with their niece’s hand over hers – the tiny h tattoo that she impulsively got in Amsterdam at the small of her wrist.

All of this, whether she believed it or not, was for her. All of the songs. All of the emotions. All of the writing and travelling and work, because all he wanted was to make her proud, to make her happy. And she is. Completely and utterly happy.

“Hugs, Auntie?” Amaya whispers into her ear, noticing the tears on her cheeks as the song comes to a close.

“Absolutely,” Amelie smiles, hugging her tightly to her chest and kissing her forehead and adjusting her on her waist to have her tuck her face into her neck. One of them would bring them backstage once the miniature set was over, to have them there for when everyone hurries out and they all begin to make their way to celebrate the end of tour. “Uncle Harry’s going to sing a song for Auntie and then Daddy will take you back, okay?”

Harry grins as Amelie mouths the three words that mean the absolute most, his fingers beginning to strum against the guitar that she decorated as a birthday present before tour began in March. This was their song, the song that was meant for Amelie and only Amelie. All of the lyrics are about her, about how he would do absolutely anything for her.

Harry’s eyes meet Amelie’s, eyelashes wet with tears as she sings along, singing to him and him to her. “For your eyes only, I show you my heart. For when you’re lonely and forget who you are. I’m missing half of me, when we’re apart. Now you know me, for your eyes only.”

And for those four minutes, it’s as though they are the only two in the arena.

Amelie really thinks that, maybe, she and Harry might be.

“Kiwi” has the ground shaking, and by the time Harry is at the B Stage standing in front of her, once again, the smile on her face is unmistakeable for one that only can be caused by him. Her shoulder is tapped near the end of the third go, ushering her backstage where Harry would be waiting to squeeze her and kiss her as he always does.

Around the dressing room, there is a freshly made cake and champagne and liquor and balloons celebrating the show. Harry’s clothes are folded neatly on the vanity, waiting for him to change and get to greet everyone and give his gratitude to everyone that’s supported him – his team, his crew, his band, his family and friends, and his girlfriend when they’re home – and stay a bit later to watch the stage get taken down and absorb the last moments that existed of Live on Tour.

“Hi, baby,” Amelie grins, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and laughing as his hands grab her bum and lift her onto his waist, hugging her as tightly as physically possible. “That was fucking incredible. All of it. Every single second.”

Harry kisses her neck, gently setting her feet on the ground and feverishly kissing her, his hands tied in her hair, soaking in the way she is smiling against his lips and clinging to his arms. His mind is oblivious to everyone clapping and cheering around him, giving the two a minute to themselves before whisking him away to the makeshift party. “I love you. Merci pour tout.”

“This is all you,” she says, turning her head and kissing his palm as his lips touch her hairline sweetly. “Never need to thank me for doing what a best friend should do, what you should do for someone you love.”

“Amelie Fay, you are so much more than my best friend.” Harry kisses Amelie once more, interlocking their fingers and walking towards the crowd that is cheering and congratulating and sharing hugs.

Amelie hugs Harry’s waist, slinking away and walking in the dressing room, leaving him to talk to everyone and have his moment alone. This was Harry’s moment and Amelie knows that he’ll get distracted with her around and talking nearby. Her mother and father are talking with Anne, Phoebe and Maya talking with Brandon and Autumn as they all get ready to leave sooner rather than later. Jenny and Dan and talking mindlessly on the couch, their children sleeping on their chests and enjoying the quiet that surrounds them.

“Harry always gets them right to sleep,” Amelie laughs, taking a seat next to Jenny and staring lovingly at her goddaughter as she cuddles into her mother’s chest. “Did you like the show?”

“Loved it, as always,” Jenny says, pursing her lips together and staring into the corridor, likely ensuring that Harry wasn’t walking inside before speaking again. “Thought about this earlier when I saw you two outside.”

“Thought about what?”

“You and Harry getting married,” she says, shrugging her shoulders as her husband shakes his head. “Don’t shake your head at me, Daniel, I want to officiate it.” Jenny’s attention goes back to her best friend, “Do you think you’ll even get engaged soon? Don’t have to get married, right away. Thought about how great you two are so great together, in love more than anyone could’ve guessed you would be. Age is a stupid excuse, so I don’t want to hear that.” Jenny’s eyes narrow at Amelie as she opens her mouth, knowing what her best friend would say. “Obviously, you two are living very chaotic lives, right now, but have you thought about it? Talked about it, at least?”

“From time to time, yeah,” Amelie says, running her fingers through her hair. “Don’t really think about it much, right now, with tour and the exhibition and the movie, and everything. I mean, that’s not to say that I wouldn’t say yes if Harry asked me.” Harry’s voice gets louder as he nears the dressing room. “Think that us living together and having a cat and buying a house is what works for us, right now. Don’t think Harry would want to settle down that fast at twenty-four.”

“Think you’d be surprised,” Jenny shrugs, kissing her daughter’s hair and rubbing her back soothingly. “Harry talks about having a life with you all the time.”

“Maybe it’s because having babies almost feels inevitable after you get married, you know? Neither of us want to have children when everything in our future is so uncertain.”

“Makes sense,” she says, pursing her lips and taking a sip of her water. “Don’t ever rule anything out, though, alright? This is good for you. Harry’s good for you.”

Harry smiles as he walks into the dressing room, kissing his mother on the cheek, graciously accepting her tight embrace, hugging Amelie’s mother and father, and walking straight towards his love sitting on his chair at the vanity. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.”

Harry instinctively moves into a spot where Amelie’s arms can wrap around his shoulders, where she can hold him. His hands hold hers, kisses set all over his cheeks as he laughs, their best friends murmuring something about how obnoxious they are together. His heart is obsessively full of love, nearly breaking his ribs with how swollen it is, his chest tight in the sweetest way. Harry grabs his clean clothes, tugging on Amelie’s hand and bringing her into the quiet bathroom with him, squeaking when his hands immediately move to her waist and his mouth attaches to hers.

His kiss is heavy against her swollen mouth, feverish and lusting and slightly out of breath. Her fingers thread through his curls, absolutely obsessed with the moment that belongs to only them, only their eyes, only their mouths. All Harry wants is to immerse himself into Amelie’s skin, her touch, her kiss. His yearning for her isn’t necessarily sexual, but craving the moments that they’re alone that all of his attention is on her, and he doesn’t have to speak to anyone, simply listening to her ramble and talk about what she loves about life and art and music and always most importantly, him. His greatest wish would be to be inside her mind, to know all that her thoughts are when she isn’t telling him, to know all that he doesn’t already. Harry loves Amelie so deeply, that he wants to know absolutely everything, feel everything, love everything.

Amelie gently nudges Harry away, smiling softly at the whimper that leaves him and the way his hands hug tight around her waist. “Everyone is going to look for you, Mr Styles. Can’t have sex in here and disappear from the world.”

“Can disappear if you really want to.”

Harry swears his heart could burst when Amelie giggles, laying her head on his sweaty skin and kissing his neck. “Get changed and we can celebrate.”

His fingers start undoing the buttons on his shirt, his trousers loosening around his waist. “Are you going to watch them take the stage down with me?”

“’Course,” she says, smirking when his head rolls against his neck, frustrated with the buttons that won’t come undone. “Let me.”

His tongue licks his lips as Amelie begins unbuttoning his shirt, each button slow and drawn out, giving him a moment to talk to her. “Having that picture in my pocket made me feel really,” he pauses for a moment, thinking, “loved. Made me feel even more loved, t’night. Thank you for it.”

“Have about three years’ worth of polaroids to take on stage with you.”

“Like having one of only you, only us, though. Gave me a reminder of who I’m doing it for,” Harry says, his eyes squeezing shut as Amelie kisses him, her warm hands on his sweaty skin, her thumbs pressing into the butterfly on his abdomen to steady her on her toes. “You.”

“Good thing I do the same for you, then, isn’t it? Otherwise that’d be awkward,” Amelie giggles, handing over his shirt and sweats and smiling to herself. “Couldn’t be more freaking proud of you, baby.”

“That’s the best feeling in the world.”

“Feeling?”

“Making you proud,” he states matter-of-factly, tying the inside of the waistband and folding the suit neatly, tucking the polaroid in his pocket safely and kissing her forehead as they walk outside. “Alright. There’s a party in the kitchen. Let’s go!”

Harry and Amelie leave a bit early, saying goodbye to their family and friends and taking to sitting in the seats in the arena to watch as the last of the stage comes down. All of the bittersweet feelings that remain clinging between their interlocked hands and Amelie’s cheek resting on Harry’s shoulder. Her head is buzzing with champagne, Harry’s mind slightly foggy with exhaustion and liquor and the adrenaline. All of it is perfect, the way it should be. Harry couldn’t have asked for anything better to finish out his tour.

Harry’s eyes sting with tears as they leave, clinging to the hand in his and savouring in the kiss that is wet on his cheek as they get into their car. Harry nearly laughs thinking about how this might be their first drive together where there is absolutely no music, and there is the temptation to bring about their very first conversation about having music on in the car from the very first day they met. His mind is going in a million different directions, and as they’re going into the garage, the engine turning and the door closing behind them, the realisation settles in that they’re about to have time to be together.

“Can we watch the sunrise?” Amelie whispers tiredly, reaching for Harry’s hand as she walks around the car and follows him inside, their cat waiting at the door expectantly. “Says it should be rising in about thirty minutes.”

“Gives us time to shower, then.”

Harry squeezes her hand, kissing her forehead and walking closely behind as they walk into their bedroom and begin lazily taking their clothes and tossing them into the laundry bin, a laugh echoing around the room as she shivers under the water. Holding hands and sharing kisses, the water washes over them warmly and comfortingly, soothing Harry’s aching muscles and drawing Amelie into relaxation that is more than enjoyed.

After their shower, Harry draws the curtains open on their balcony to watch the sunrise, admiring how the light shines over Amelie as she shrugs one of his sweatshirts over her torso, disregarding any underwear or shorts or leggings, climbing into their bed and waiting for him to tug clean briefs onto his legs and settle beneath the comforter. Her hand is holding their favourite poetry book – the one they’re reading, at the minute, at least – and lays on his lap, letting the dim light of his bedside lamp cast over the vanilla pages and lifting her neck slightly to let him bring all of her damp hair onto his thighs, his fingers gently scratching her scalp and carding through the curls. Her eyes fall over the words written in the scattered form, always reading silently to herself – although she always reads quietly aloud, which he loves – before reading to him.

Amelie’s voice is almost shy when she speaks, making Harry immediately turn away from the rising sun to meet her hooded eyes. “Harry?”

“Hm.”

“Do you think–” Amelie hesitates for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts and emotions before speaking aloud. They’ve never really had this conversation before, surely not at nearly six in the morning. Usually it would be the casual, I want to be with you forever or This is it, you and me, that would settle the lingering question that seemingly everyone but them would ask. “Have you thought about us getting married, about proposing? Maybe a future, with me, I guess.”

“All the time,” Harry says, his soft movements making her eyes fall shut every so often. “Have you thought about it?”

“From time to time, yeah. Like what we have going,” she says, staring at the man she loves dearly, a soft smile on his features as she licks her lips. There’s something in Harry’s demeanour that changes, as though her words are saying that she wouldn’t marry him, which is far from the truth. “But that title doesn’t really matter to me, at the end of the day. I want you, more than anything. As my boyfriend, my husband, my best friend, you name it. Could ask me to marry you and I’d say yes. All that matters to me is that we’re together.”

Harry thinks that their best friend might’ve said something about the engagement ring sitting in his duffle bag with the polaroid from his suit, and his heart falls to his stomach. He didn’t want to ask this way, sleepy and fatigued, the sun rising, their bodies utterly exhausted from the rush of the last two days.

“Not saying I am,” Harry laughs, kissing her hairline as she lays the poetry book on her chest and stares at him. “But, if I asked you to marry me, let’s say today, would you say yes?”

“Doesn’t matter if it was yesterday, today, tomorrow, or a year from now,” Amelie whispers, grabbing his wrist and bringing his hand to her mouth, kissing his palm as he caresses her cheek, “I’ll say yes whenever, wherever.”

“Mean that?”

“De tout mon coeur.” Amelie says, with my whole heart, and Harry knows that there is nothing that could be more perfect.

“Can we hold off on the babies, though? Like to enjoy you as m’wife for a bit.”

“How does four years sound? Think we can get married by then? Have a nice house in London and Malibu. Living lavishly.”

“Is that what you want, angel? Lavish?”

“Truthfully,” Amelie breathes, turning her cheek on his thigh to watch the sun rise over their balcony and through their window, Harry’s fingertips trailing up her neck and through her hair, “none of that matters to me as long as we’re together. As cliché as that all sounds, and I absolutely hate a cliché. Mama always said that nothing really matters if there isn’t love in it. Don’t think anything would be what I want if I didn’t love you and you didn’t love me.”

“Good thing that I’m absolutely in love with you,” Harry smiles, gently taking the book from her hands and kissing her cheek and her jaw. “Think the Universe made you for me to love, you know that? All along, the stars were aligning for us to have something special.”

“Think that we’ll make it through anything? Not like the relationships that have something bad happen and they’re irreparable.” Harry leans over to shut the light, the dimness in the room casting over her, reminding her of how tired she really is. “Can’t see us being that way.”

“Nothing could be irreparable with us. Not you and me, Ames.” His accent is thicker, now. He’s exhausted, his body and mind are craving sleep. But this is a conversation that he’s willing to stay awake for, that he would deny sleep for hours if that’s what she wanted. “Nothing could make me not love you.”

Amelie adjusts her body slightly, giving Harry space to lay flat on their mattress, his head sinking into his pillow. His hands nudge at her waist, sighing deeply when she lays her weight completely on him – well, nearly half of her body is slung over him – his arms around her waist. Harry liked to sleep like this sometimes, especially when they’re feeling especially close and intimate. Amelie doesn’t mind it. It makes her feel loved.

“Guess we should tell everyone to be expecting a ring soon, then,” Amelie laughs, kissing Harry’s neck and breathing in deeply as her eyes fall shut. “I’m proud of you. I love you.”

“Love you more.”

Amelie kisses Harry’s lips sweetly, sinking into his embrace and falling asleep, her breathing evening out against his skin and her lips parting on his chest. And Harry stays silent for a few minutes, kissing her hairline, soaking in the tenderness that surrounds him, thinking of the tiny diamond ring sitting in their wardrobe.

FOUR WEEKS LATER

Harry is sitting at the edge of the bed, fingertips picking at his trousers, his palms sweating against the quilted comforter. Amelie is in the bathroom, the door shut quietly behind her – which is awkward in itself because they’ve not shut the bathroom door since they moved in together two and half years ago – and there is the sound of the running sink echoing around the bedroom. Tigger is purring against Harry’s leg, and Harry wants to tell him to stop, to leave the room and give them a moment, but he knows that there is a sense of comfort in all of three of them being together in such a defining moment, a moment where they are nervous for what’s to come and what to make of their situation, a moment that could certainly change their relationship forever.

Harry’s eyes flick to where his girlfriend is standing in the bathroom doorway, moving his hand away from their cat’s head and holding his knees. He can see the tears in her eyes, the wobbling of her chin, the shakiness in her hands. Her anxiety is written in the furrowed brows and lines creasing her forehead, the redness lining her mouth as her teeth bite into her lips. His arms open, waiting for her to walk forward and sit with him, grateful that she decides to straddle his waist and wrap her arms around his shoulders rather than sit far away. His hands rub her back, kissing her neck lightly and waiting until she’s ready to speak.

“This isn’t what we wanted,” Amelie whispers into his shoulder, tears wetting her cheeks, her fingertips gripping his sweater as if he is going to disappear from beneath her. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” Harry soothes, trying to mask the fear in his voice, “don’t apologise, baby. Not all your fault, you know. Certainly, had my part in it.” His throat goes dry for a minute. “All your decision what you want to do, once that timer goes.”

Amelie can feel Harry shake his head against her neck as she speaks, his fingertips tracing along her spine beneath her oversized shirt. “Harry, the album–”

“Album can wait. Tour can wait. All of it can wait. Can’t do that without me, can they?” Harry wants to lighten the anxiety lingering in their chests, but he very well knows that that won’t happen until that timer sounds and the answer to their question is given.

“Don’t want you to resent me for ruining your life.”

Harry immediately pulls away to face her, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at how she could ever think such a thing. “Amelie Fay, do you really think I would resent you? And who said anything about ruining my life? Do you really think that having a family with you would ruin my life? How many times have I told you that I want forever with you?”

“Don’t know.”

“Didn’t you say to me, ‘all that matters is that we’re together’? Didn’t you say that?” Harry pauses for a moment, waiting for Amelie to silently nod to answer his question. “Have to believe that we’ll be alright, as long as we’re together.”

Amelie hides her face in Harry’s neck once more, ignoring the ringing timer going in the bathroom. “This anxiety is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”

“Come with me,” Harry says, squeezing her waist and kissing her cheek, “and we’ll do this together.”

Amelie nods into his chest, standing and taking Harry’s hand in hers, walking nervously into the bathroom and taking a second to turn the timer off and let Harry see the results first. He always has a steady hand, even if he’s feeling anxious himself. His stability grounded her in more ways than one, and it was something that made her feel as though, if this were to be real, maybe they would be alright.

“Can you look first?”

Harry nods, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles, squeezing her fingers as he turns the test over on the counter, his peripheral vision catching Amelie turn away. Harry gulps, taking in the blinking Pregnant + sign on the digital screen. His voice caught in his throat, unable to speak through his parted lips, his mouth going dry. Amelie was right, this isn’t what they wanted, what they planned. Harry wants a family with Amelie – of course he does – but that certainly wasn’t the intention until after they were married. Hell, Harry hadn’t even proposed yet. All of his thoughts are swimming in his brain, almost going unnoticed when her hand slips out of his and takes the test from the counter, staring at the words written on the screen and taking a minute to really take in all that this meant.

“I need you to not hate me for what I want.” Amelie sucks in a deep breath, tears stinging her eyes, a sob wracking through her body as Harry brings her into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders and touching his lips to her hair, desperately trying to soothe her.

“Could never hate you for that,” Harry says reassuringly, kissing her forehead and gently cupping her cheeks, bringing her to face him. “I’m with you, always.”

Amelie gulps, taking the test in her hands and staring at the way the bolded word is so intimidating to her anxiety, to the pressure that is felt on her chest as if there is a brick weighing on her lungs. Maybe this is another way to test her strength, to test how much she wants to be a better person, because this would be the perfect opportunity to slip into an anxious state, a depressive episode. Her mind is begging for it, for the comfort of being numb.

Harry nudges her chin, making her meet his eyes and all of the thoughts are subsided by ones that make her want to cry into his arms and say that she loves him. “Don’t get swallowed into it. Can shake these feelings, but we have to do it together, Ames. Look at me.” He knows her better than anyone does. He knows her better than anyone ever will. “I’m here, angel. I’m right here.”

Amelie nods, sucking in a breath through parted lips, leaning her forehead against his chest and blinking away the remaining tears in her eyes. Harry’s fingers brush through her hair as they always do, comforting her in the ways that he’s learnt over the three years they’ve been together. “Everything we do is together, right?”

“Always.”

And silently, Harry and Amelie turn to stare at the tiny word that is going to change their lives forever.

[amari-arts]

AND IVE BEEN POSTING TEXTPOSTS TO MY ART ACCOUNT!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!

[keyofjetwolf]

Something Like The Truth

First up, for Entertain Recovering Holligay Day, I have this little ficlet snippet. @docholligay wanted some Pharah and Tracer, and I hope I have managed to deliver something she’ll enjoy. And for the rest of you too, I SUPPOSE. ~950 words.

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Tracer’s incessant need to talk was going to get her killed one day.

It was a truth, one of several immutable facts around which Fareeha Amari built her understanding of the world. She was desperately in love with her wife. Justice would prevail, so long as there was the will to fight. Blue was complementary to her colouring. There would always be those who seek to cause harm. Those who seek to cause harm must be stopped. Ana Amari was wrong. Coffee should be sweet. It was impossible to overplan. Angela could not be trusted to do laundry. Sam would never not call her “pumpkin”. Rigor and structure were as vital to life as oxygen. Tracer’s incessant need to talk was going to get her killed one day.

It was a thought that crossed Pharah’s mind as they strolled together down Charing Cross Road. Though perhaps “strolled” was not the most correct description. Pharah rarely achieved the state of relaxation necessary to stroll, and Tracer found it difficult to move with such calm. The journey down Charing Cross Road was more a march and a bounce, then, with Tracer’s endless chatter their constant companion.

“...and so ‘Lena,’ I says to meself, ‘So Lena--’ Funny, innit, ‘ow we can know so many names. You talk to yourself as Fareeha or Pharah? I think of you as either, mostly, though now as I think on it, depends, doesn’t it? See you in your suit, all--” And here her voice dropped in pitch and she affected an accent so terrible that Pharah physically winced. “--’Justice rains from above!’ and you’re Pharah, yeah? But catch you shoving another doughnut in your face, and that’s Fareeha all over. ‘aven’t had a doughnut in donkey’s ears, guess that’s me offering at the next staff meeting. Oo, need to shop for ‘annah’s birthday, that’s coming--”

“I do not shove doughnuts in my face.” That Pharah was several sentences behind was the norm for their conversations. No one could keep up with Tracer when her mouth simply opened and spat out every thought crossing her brain. Not even Tracer.

A bright bubble of laughter peeled from Tracer as she heard what was clearly the funniest joke told in the history of humankind. “Saw you inhale an ‘alf dozen with me own eyes, love. Counted, and all.”

“That is ridiculous,” Pharah replied with absolute seriousness, her face immutable. “You must have confused me for someone else.”

Tracer clapped Pharah on the arm and nodded vigorously. “Right you are! Was the OTHER six-foot Egyptian we ‘ave wandering about. Mix you two up all the time, I do. So I won’t be needing those chocolate frosted ones, then, yeah?”

Had someone told Pharah years ago how easily she would fall into these little verbal sparring matches with Tracer, she would have dismissed them as a fool. Tracer was disorderly and loud, and talked too much, and worried too little. She was a good heart with a brave soul, as well as a brilliant pilot, which had earned her latitude with Pharah, however grudgingly. Still, Tracer was something to endure, not indulge. Even the rock eventually gave way to the insistence of the wind, however, and so the stone of Pharah’s expression carved away, revealing the kiss of a grin at the corner of her lips. 

“And risk angering the other six-foot Egyptian? I recommend a full dozen. To be safe.”

The brick and stone that rose around them reflected Tracer’s delight up and down the busy London street. It would be impossible to say what Tracer loved most in the world, as the list itself could change every second depending on what was in front of her, but mutual teasing with Pharah would likely always rank.

It was with a small note of irritation that Pharah was forced to admit that it would rank for her as well, and she was contemplating when that had also become one of her truths when she felt the world around her change.

There was no real way to describe it. Words were never Pharah’s strength, given as she was to precision and efficiency. How did you describe what wasn’t there? How could you articulate the feel of something you couldn’t touch? There were people who could do this, she was certain they existed in the world, but Pharah was not one of them. She had been given many gifts in her life, but this would forever elude her.

Pharah could not describe it, but she knew all the same.

The world slowed for Pharah in that moment. The Nothing swirled into existence as they passed the alleyway. It was emptiness, a thread of void, but still somehow managed to catch a discarded Tesco bag that danced and spun in the growing oblivion. Sound became muffled, absorbed by the Nothing that pulsed and grew, hungry and furious. Distantly, Pharah realized  that Tracer was still talking, jumping two or three topics in the intervening seconds, happily tumbling down one rabbit hole to the next.

She hadn’t noticed.

She continued to not notice as the Nothing coalesced into a form, nor as that form stepped forward with intent and fury and murder somehow sparking in the dead holes where eyes should be.

Tracer’s incessant need to talk was going to get her killed one day. It was a truth around which Fareeha Amari built her understanding of the world.

But not today, Pharah’s will screamed in defiance as she enveloped the smaller woman with her own body, refusing to buckle even as Reaper’s bullets slammed into her flesh again and again, tearing muscle and chipping bone.

Not today.

[ba-mi-soro-orisha]

Do you think you could write an analysis on what makes Zélie such a raw and interesting character! While part of the reason I can relate to her so much (i’m also Nigerian) it’s hard to put into words what makes me love her so much. I love character analysis and am so glad to see someone else love this book so much!

I LOVE this ask so much. Seriously. You’re amazing, anon, and I hope you’re still hanging around the blog!

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1.a. She’s a Chosen One with flaws beyond “too good”.

Zélie Adebola isn’t the purist Chosen One we’ve become accustomed to. She’s not here to shame us for hating our oppressors and wanting them dead. No, Zélie knows that oppression firsthand, and she’s mad about it. And she’s not just mad because being mad is the righteous thing to do. Her anger is not disconnected from the situation. She is living that life. Her anger stems from experience: loss and grief and years of being hated and hunted. Zélie isn’t doing what’s right because she is stepping up to be some hero. She’s doing what’s right because she deserves it. She’s lived down in the gutter for too long, and she wants out. She wants the life she deserves, the life others have kept from her.

A common trope with heroes and Chosen Ones is that they struggle with always trying to walk a path free of death and killing, and as soon as they take or almost take a life, they go into a negative spiral trending on the dark side before their loved ones remind them who they are and bring them back on their path of righteousness. Of course killing will mess a person up and is a terrible person to do. But the way this trope is usually done is, quite honestly, condescending. It tends to be anti-self-defense, and that only serves the purpose of the oppressors. The message tends to be centrist non-violence, which is lost amongst viewers because we don’t have the advantage of superpowers, so we can’t have this struggle of “I can’t use too much force or I’m abusing my privilege”.

Zélie is a refreshing breath of air away from this trope. Zélie hates her oppressors and doesn’t try to hide it. She’s antagonistic and distrustful of Amari simply because people who look like Amari do have never treated her right or fair. She’s not shocked when someone who has been raised to hate her then mistreats her. We don’t have to sit through a book of someone learning about injustice meant as a metaphor for real world suffering. We start the book with someone quite aware of what other’s think of her and how they’ll treat her, and there’s no pretending or denial of what’s happening. Zélie puts a voice to all that anger and exhausting and depression and mess of emotions that you’ve been feeling and been told over and over again that it’s somehow inappropriate to express. Zélie shares your sentiments and therefore makes it okay to acknowledge your pain and how that pain makes you feel.

Zélie is not some super amazing, unrealistic heroic protagonist that comes off as more of a lecture on how we should act. She is touchable, reachable - relatable.

1.b. Zélie isn’t just a mouthpiece for the injustice she’s fighting against.

She has actually lived as one of the most vulnerable to Orisha’s bigotry. She’s not here to make that behavior seem like it’s just a poor, misunderstood position that love can conquer. She’s not going to be a White Knight. She is you.

2. Zélie makes incredibly frustrating but very human bad decisions.

Zélie pissed off pretty much the entire fandom by her will-they-won’t-they dance with Inan, but that’s just another facet of her personality and characterization and why we didn’t put the book down. Ever been frustrated with a friend who seems to have their career on track and all sorted out, but keeps making bad romantic decisions and you just want to YELL AND SCREAM AND SHAKE some sense into them!? Ever been frustrated by yourself when you yet again fall for someone who you knew couldn’t give you what you wanted, but you kept giving them chances anyway? Ever had just a teensy moment where you made an emotional decision instead of the logical one?

This is Zélie!!! We all knew going down that path with Inan was going to lead to hurt. So many of us so desperately wanted and hoped against hope that maybe, just maybe, it could turn out okay with Inan because Zélie deserves more than that. But just like all those times where we’ve had to sit back and let a friend go through with their bad decision and live their life for themselves, we had to watch Zélie walk the path she was walking and have it hurt all the more when it burned just as we expected.

Zélie’s human, just like us. She makes very human mistakes like we do, about seemingly mundane parts of her life when juxtaposed next to the war that’s brewing.

3. Zélie isn’t some martyr just obsessed with a quest.

She has a mission, yes, but there is an emotional depth to the mission. Because Zélie doesn’t just care about wrong that’s being perpetuated: she cares for the people its hurting and keeping down. The mission isn’t about finishing the quest or finishing it very specifically. It’s about purpose. Zélie doesn’t lose sight of what’s important, and that’s people.

But she’s also not about to just roll over and die because she thinks she deserves it or that there’s no other choice. Zélie is a fighter. She represents everyone’s decision, their urge, to keep going, keep moving forward, to not stop. Even when she’s been tortured and she’s hurting and scarred and ashamed and embarrassed and generally feeling terrible and downtrodden… she doesn’t have time to stop and give up. She isn’t a message that sacrificing yourself is the answer to solving problems. She’s a reminder that you can keep going and that you can heal. Like Zélie, you just have to keep trying.

4. Zélie breaks the mold.

The story may not be a new one, but Zélie is certainly a bold, new take on the usual types of protagonists we get. It’s hard to ever see yourself represented when we keep centering stories with the same types of protags over and over again. When someone like Tomi finally breaks through and gets to share a protagonist that not only has a culture similar to yours but also has features similar to yours and feelings and experiences similar to yours, it’s hard not to get swept away by that. And you should get swept away by that. You deserve that.

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(Not completely happy with where this is at. It could use some editing, and I’m sure I could add a few more points, but it’s far past time for this to get posted! If I ever can articulate more or just have more time, I’d love to come back and add to this post! Thank you so much for the wonderful ask!!!)