grief is a wound.

closed mumu penned by fifa

[nomcurners]

what i owe * ba dum tss * 

B

antonia & alastor

caelan & elijah

emir & carmen 

julian & eileen ( starter ) 

vivienne & adrienne 

BEEPS 

finn & carson

EMAIL

antonia & alice 

dani & jai

MARIE

evan & sinistra

SHLEBY

:)

[nomcurners]

Evan is not used to pain anymore. There was a time this would have hardly registered but this time it had left him gasping for breath. Evan closes his eyes and reminds himself that he has conquered far worse. Alongside what was once a familiar reminder, a manner of recentering himself, of convincing himself that there was no pain he could not get used to is the realization that he has not needed it in quite some time. Still, it is oddly peaceful now, the silence only broken by the waves crashing on the shore. The pain might have been blinding but Evan is focused on the weight of Alastor’s hand on his arm - on how he had never let it go even after bandaging the wound - on how he trails his fingers along his veins with a sort of gentleness that can still take him by surprise. 

He could never have imagined this life but war is their second nature - it echoes in them and it calls them back. He knows he can relearn pain - it will be far easier than learning peace had ever been. He knows Alastor is considering going back and he knows he will follow him anywhere. They know that they will not survive this - they know they will never be able to come home again. 

The sky has started to lighten and Evan tears his eyes from the horizon to look at him. His voice is steady when he speaks, despite the fact that he does not know his answer, “Stay with me.”

[nomcurners]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐇​:

@nomcurners​​

“ I don’t think it was that bad, ” Safiya insisted, not even believing herself. It was bad. In fact, it was horrible, mortifying, embarrassing, and any other applicable synonyms. Three mannequins had been massacred in her clumsiness. One fell prey to a flying pair of scissors, another was hit by a stray splicing charm from her dropped wand, and the third was messily embroidered by stray enchanted needles. Having so many moving parts in her studio required concentration and, usually, Safiya could manage it with little effort. But as she pinned the hem for Grace’s new skirt, Raveena decided to stop by and the chaos began. “ My head just goes completely empty. I don’t know where my brain goes, but it takes a nice long vacation when Raveena is around. ” She let her head slam down to the table. Muffled by the wood, she added, “ sorry for pinning your leg. ”

—

Grace offers an unbelieving roll of an eye and an eyebrow raise that seemed to say are you listening to yourself at Safiyah’s insistence that it wasn’t that bad. “You’re right,” she said, “It was worse.” She winces as Safiyah jabs her leg. Safiyah was sort of all over the place even on her best days but Grace is used to her being even worse when it comes to Raveena. She has heard some version of this from both of them and there are times she feels caught in the middle. Quite literally considering she shared an apartment with them. There were times when she wanted to shake them both and tell them to stop being hopeless and just talk to each other but since when has life ever been that simple. She sighs, putting a hand on Safiyah’s shoulder and squeezing in a weak attempt to comfort her. “You did bring this on yourself.” She says, amused. She sits down next to her, “Have you considered — and I know this will sound crazy — but maybe you can just talk to her?”

[ofvcnguard]

damien & cyrus - i’ll be damned if we can make it out of this alive

(part one) for @nomcurners

[nomcurners]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀.

who: genevieve fawley ( @nomcurners​ ). where: the nott house!! because sad!!  when: january 5th, 1983.

BREAKFAST AT THE NOTT HOUSEHOLD WAS CONSTANTLY FILLED WITH SUNSHINE. Literally speaking, the sun sneaked through the curtains and drew patterns around shadows. But, normally, Mitty said hello with a kiss on the cheek. Penelope told a story from her day, usually throwing in a unicorn or two, making Mitty laugh ( which was Lena’s favorite sound in the whole world ). Sometimes, she could even see Gen at the fourth seat, although her laugh was fading these days. 

Today, though, Penelope was already off to school, a fact that left Helena feeling a bit out of sorts. She’d only just started this year; had begged her and Mitty to let her go. Helena had found her want for knowledge absolutely adorable, but it had come tinged with sadness. Sadness because she didn’t have a sibling to play with, and Helena knew her daughter hoped to find friends at school; friends who would replace their siblings. It wasn’t hard to let grief grip her these days, especially not when she was reminded of sisters. Still, as she made her coffee, wand slipping back into her pocket as the water began to boil, Helena leaned on the counter to hold herself up, and to try not to think.

Hot mug now in her hands, she went to sit down only to hear a soft rap on the door. Her brow furrowed, as she wasn’t quite expecting anyone. However, when the door was fully open, Lena couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. A surge of fear ripped through her. Ghosts, she thought, were only tied to Hogwarts from its magic. What was one doing here? Helena couldn’t hear. Couldn’t breathe. The ghost who looked like her sister was speaking, but Helena didn’t know what she was saying until she stepped back, and felt the wetness beneath her foot. Her eyes drifted down to see the broken bits of the mug she was holding. Somehow it had fallen, and she hadn’t even noticed. Still, when the ghost touched her, actually touched her, it broke her trance. 

“Gennie?” she whispered, eyes frantically searching her sister’s face. Her hands came up, pushing back that familiar red hair as a sob ripped through her. “But you’re… you’re not supposed to be… How are you–” Helena’s sob became a laugh and she quickly asked, “Would you like a spot of tea?”

—

GENEVIEVE KNOWS THAT there is no good way to come back from the dead. Allowing people she loved the most that she had been dead for more than an year was the worst kind of cruelty. She knows that it had been necessary but that did not change that it had been a betrayal in its own right and still she could not bring herself to regret it because it had kept her family safe. Helena had mourned - she was still mourning but she was alive and she was safe and that was a price Genevieve had been willing to pay.

It had taken her a while to gather the nerve to knock on her door. Standing there she felt the same way she had when she had knocked on the door to her own home the night before — as if she was disturbing something that was better laid to rest. As if she should let her sister move on with her life but she knows that is only her fear speaking. What was all of this for if not to find her way back? How would she ever live with herself if she didn’t try to explain herself to Helena? She has never let her fear cloud her courage and she was not going to start now. 

Genevieve drew in a deep breath before knocking quickly. It would be impossible to steel herself for this but Helena opens the door and suddenly she feels light headed. Helena is looking at her as if she has seen a ghost, the cup in her hand slipping from her grasp. Her sister hasn’t moved. Gen doesn’t think she has even blinked. She clears her throat, feeling as if she is swallowing around sand before saying her name. “Helena-” she says quietly and then again, this time louder, “Helena-” She reaches out to touch her, her hand closing around her wrist.

It is enough to undo her sister - undo them both and Genevieve isn’t even aware that she is crying as she pulls her sister in a tight hug. She laughs through her tears because of course the first thing Helena asks her is if she would like some tea. It takes her another long moment before she pulls herself back though she still doesn’t let go of her sister. “I would love some-” she finally says as smiles even as tears stream down her cheek. “It seems as if I ruined your cup of tea.”

[nomcurners]

HER HAND FEELS WEIGHED DOWN BY the ring and Vivienne knows that this has to end. They are promised to others now and this is far too cruel, far too heartbreaking. She knew that Adrien would be waiting for her at their spot but she had told herself that she wasn’t going to go. If she sees him, she will want to be close to him and she knows she will break the moment he reaches for her. If she doesn’t go, she know that he will wait for her. She knows that he would wait the whole night if he needs to and the thought of that is enough to break her heart.

She tells herself that this is the last time. One final meeting ; one last kiss and then they will say their goodbyes. She will be the maid of honor at his wedding and he will be the best man at hers and she will spend her life trying not to meet his eyes - trying not to be alone with him. He was never yours to begin with a voice whispered in her head but what did it matter? She was going to lose him just the same.

She is slightly late when she arrives at the bench under the stone arch. The ring on her finger glimmers in the moonlight and she crosses her arms across her chest, hiding it from view. She makes her way over to him and the sight of the smile on his face makes her heart ache. Her own smile is tinged with sadness, “Did you miss me?”

@ghostswish​

[nomcurners]

THE NIGHT IS BEAUTIFUL. It makes it all that much worse that Vivienne can’t wait for it to end. She knows that Loren has made this holiday so special - she sees how much thought he has put into every single aspect and yet, she is glad that they will be returning to London tomorrow. She feels as if she has left a piece of herself with Adrien and Vivienne knows how much of a betrayal it is to think of her sister’s fiance when she is so wanted - so loved - by someone else but she feels helpless in the face of this.

She knows that Loren has something special planned for tonight but it still takes her breath away when the place first comes into views. The glimmering night sky, the lights strewn around the place, the soft music. Oh, she wishes it was Adrien instead. The thought is accompanied with a crashing wave of guilt and she smiles brightly as she promises herself that she won’t think of Adrien for the rest of the night.

It almost works. She almost wants to believe that her and Loren could have this - that she could find her way back to him. He still makes her laugh and his eyes still light up every time he looks at her. She almost wants to remember what it was like when it was the same for her. Loren puts on some of her favorite music and asks her to dance and as she moves across the floor in his arms, the careful lies she has told herself to get through the evening threaten to fall apart and she closes her eyes, leaning her head against his chest. She still wishes it was Adrien.

Loren stops swaying after what feels like a long while and Vivienne pulls back slightly and even though she knows it is cruel of her, she still raises her hand, resting it against his cheek. “This is lovely.”

@nitwitisms​

[nomcurners]

THEIR FAMILIES HAVE HARDLY been on good terms for years now and Cyrus knows that Damien resents every single thing about him. There is far too much bad blood between them, far too many lies and far too much anger for him to ever hope to mend fences. There are times when Cyrus feels as if had dreamt the years they had spend so inseparable - never one without the other -  but the memories are always tinged with the sort of nostalgia that takes his breath away every single time. A sliver of fondness that had somehow survived the test of time.

Cyrus wouldn’t do for this city ; for these people. He knows what they need to do to save the city - he just doesn’t understand how Damiel could be so blinded by his own pride to not see it as well. It wasn’t as if he wanted to work with Damien but he knows that there is no other way for them to see this thing through. That is the only reason he is here. It is what he tells himself as he stands outside the stone facade of the manor. Cyrus doesn’t pause to doubt himself as he walks into the place, not missing the look of surprise as he is led to the sitting room.

It has been so long since he has walked through these halls but he still remembers them ; he would still be able to find every single hidden passage. He tells himself to focus on the task on hand as he is left along to wait. Cyrus paces infront of the fireplace, too restless to sit down but he doesn’t have to wait long until he hears a voice.

“ what are you doing here? it’s the middle of the night. ”

He turns around to look at him and Damien’s face is set in stone. The distance between them suddenly feels far too great. He does not know how this can work but he knows he has to make it work ; he knows he has to convince him. “You hardly gave me a choice,” he replies smoothly, running a fingertip along the fireplace mantel before turning to face him. “You know, the settling of old scores have never settled anything.”

@ofvcnguard​

[onceweptarchive]

kisses for oc bodyguard :urlyloveme: a kiss on the jawline OR a kiss on the shoulder blade

SHE KEEPS HER DISTANCE AT FIRST, watching with reserved interest from the doorway. Emir’s actions are practiced, fluid as they always are and she is content in this moment of observation. Fingers move to work on the buttons of his shirt, and if he knows she’s there he doesn’t bother to say it. Something unspoken has grown between them, made up of fleeting glances and small touches. It has sparked a curiosity in her, steady as a current, pulling her closer and closer each time. They are a test, the first few steps she takes towards him. And then they are a dare, a defiance of her own will.

Figure appears in the mirror beside him and it’s as if he’s noticed her for the first time; it’s useless for him to pretend, Carmen has woken to his footsteps in the hallway on more than one occasion, seen the way he snaps to attention at the tiniest of sounds. Yet still he stands a stiffer than before, fingers pausing in their work. Gaze locks onto his in the reflection of the mirror, steady there until he raises his eyes to meet hers. There is a question there, which he seems to answer by resuming the task at hand. When at last the final button is undone, Carmen tugs the fabric down his arms, breath catching as bandages come into view.

White cloth is stark against his skin, and even in the dim light the crease in her brows is evident. To him it is just another scar, no different she’s sure than the faded one that mars his shoulder. She directs her attention to it, something from his past, not quite as fresh. The shirt lies forgotten on the floor and before she can stop herself a finger tip ghosts around this faded line——searching, curious, suddenly eager to know this part of him too. Her lips follow, brushing over the spot as she speaks. Who gave it to you, she thinks of asking. Yet something else leaves her lips.  “  Do you ever consider putting this all behind you?  ”  Carmen is close to him now, close enough to see the way he tenses as her fingertip continues to trail down the curve of his arm. She wants an after for him, something beyond this endless accumulation of scars that he has committed himself to. Something more than a half life.  “  Aren’t you tired?  ”

[nomcurners]

𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀.

gianna & finn ( @nomcurners​ ) ( flashback )

GIANNA HADN’T REALIZED FREE TIME could be so….boring. It was so rare these days, after all, between the crushing weight of schoolwork and the stringent expectations of her family. It was even more rare that she spent these sporadic moments alone; as much as she loved her freedom, loved her solitude, neither she nor Aleksi ever seemed to pass up on a chance to spend time with each other. But, of course, Aleksi was busy. No matter. Gia had dragged herself down to the seaside for some much-needed god damn alone time–just her, a book, and not a single medical matter in sight.

But the sun wasn’t quite warm enough, and her book couldn’t quite hold her attention for more than a few pages at a time, and when she’d heard the unmistakable babble of a toddler nearby, well, that seemed far more interesting. As the youngest Lockhart with no cousins to speak of, Gianna hadn’t yet become disillusioned with screaming children, even with her brief pediatrics rotation the term before. Okay, maybe watching the toddler and his–father? brother? babysitter? was creepy, but no one had called her on it yet, so she figured she could get away with it for a bit longer.

The tiny child flopped quite impressively to the ground at the water’s edge and let out a piercing wail. Before she could even think it through, Gia was on her feet and navigating her way through the loose sand, feeling a bit guilty and a bit embarrassed for the spark of excitement that went through her at the chance of something to do, a puzzle to solve. “You look like you could use some help.” Amusement glittered in her eyes as she took in the man struggling to calm the very upset child, even as a blush colored her cheeks. “Is he hurt? I’m a doctor–almost a doctor–I can help.”

—

IT WASN’T OFTEN that Finn babysat. At the very least, not alone. Rory was far better with Seamus than he was but then almost everyone was better than him when it came to kids. They had been one of those rare good days though ; one of those times when Finn actually felt present for once. The sun was warm if not hot - or at any rate, it wasn’t raining which at times felt like the best they could hope for and Seamus seemed to be enthralled with the way the light glimmered over the waves. 

He wasn’t usually allowed to watch over Seamus on his own - had even be accused of kidnapping in the past ( which was completely untrue since he had left a note every time ) but his cousin had needed to be somewhere urgently and it turned out that desperate times called for desperate measures. It wasn’t often that Finn didn’t feel as if he was weighed down by something heavy and invisible but being around the toodler brought its own sense of peace. It’s own sense of joy. 

They had been trying to build a sandcastle or well, Finn had been trying to and Seamus was more interested in knocking it down. That was, until there was a gust of wind and the next second Seamus started wailing at the top of his lungs. It was as if an alarm went off in his head and he could feel the panic rising as Seamus cried louder, pushing his hands in his eyes. He tried to talk to him while pulling at his hands but Seamus flinched away from him, his sobs starting to sound choked up now. Her voice seemed to slice through the growing dread but it took a second for him to process her words. “Uh yeah-” he shook his head, “Think he got sand in his eyes.” He was just making it worse, rubbing his eyes like that. 

[nomcurners]

𝖗𝖍𝖞.

—–

THERE IS A WARMTH TO RHY, there always has been. Quick to forgive, quick to laugh, quick to open his heart–the world can try its hardest to beat him down, but it never seems to stick. Sure, he will protect those he cares about with his life if it comes to it, but any transgression against himself? There are too many things he’s refused to hold a grudge over. Abstractly, that part of him that still dreams of the intimacy of a drowsy smile in the morning, of a familiar touch when the going gets tough, had figured that he could grow to forgive Alucard, too. After all, Rhy was the foolish one; Rhy was the one who pulled Alucard into dark corners and convinced himself those kisses meant something. But this–Rhy’s heart pounds, and there are a million feelings swirling through him, and he’s not quite sure he can name any of them forgiveness.

He had a word for it, once, these feelings he has for the man before him. It was simple, then, a complicated word for a complicated feeling that had seemed so easy in the moment. Sometime in the last three years he removed that word from his dictionary, carved the very idea of romance from his heart. Rhy is a prince, Rhy is the heir, Rhy has a duty to his kingdom that he knew better than to ignore. Besides, he loves his parents–loves Kell, and even though that’s a different kind of love, he sometimes wonders if his heart isn’t so full that there’s no room for anyone else, anyways.

They are walking a familiar path, playing a familiar game, and he wonders if he should be thankful for it. It’s an out, after all; if neither of them acts as if there is a fire, maybe the room won’t burn. Alucard’s lean is as familiar a move as any of his owns, even still, even now. Rhy mirrors him, lips tilting up as if the whole thing amuses him. “After three years to hone his vendetta, this time might stick.” It’s a bit like testing the waters, this oh-so-casual mention of the elephant in the room. He can’t decide if he’s serious about calling Kell in to settle his debts–he can’t decide if he wants Alucard to think he is.

The words hit him somewhere deep, and everything in him freezes. Oh, it would be so easy to fall into this. They are too close, Rhy thinks. Having Alucard within touching distance is too dangerous. Affecting a bored air, he turns away, fingers dragging absentmindedly across the table, heading towards the low chaise. Alucard called him nothing more than a spoiled prince, once; if that is the mask he wants, that is the mask Rhy will give him. But Alucard keeps speaking, and something in Rhy sparks at the familiarity. “You forget yourself,” he snaps, and he hates, hates, hates how much of a comfort this flash of anger is. “You can travel to the ends of the earth if you want, but that won’t make me any less your prince.”

Movements stiff, he sinks into the chaise, but his eyes never once leave Alucard. A challenge has been issued, maybe by him, maybe by Alucard, maybe by fate itself. Although he leans back, leg thrown over an arm, the picture of casual grace, tension lines his body. “Why are you here?” He asks sharply, bluntly. Why are you back?

—

It hurts being this close to him. Alucard had thought he was strong enough to face him again - to face their history. He had thought he was brave enough to finally come home. Now that he is here, he cannot help but feel as if it would have been better for him to stay gone. There are too many lies, too many secrets between them. His presence here is nothing less than an intrusion. He knows this, he does. And yet there is a part of him that will always wish that there could be more to this. The part of him that hopes that despite all the years between them, this time he could stay.

He could make this simple. He could tell Rhy everything that had happened which had led him to leaving. He could tell him about the threats and the violence that had been threaded through his life since he could remember - he could tell him that Rhy had lit up every dark corner but Alucard had never been able to be brave when it had counted. He had never been able to be brave until it was too late. It sounded far too much like making excuses. He had still left without a word - what else was there to it? Besides, he wouldn’t even know where to begin. He had grown so used to burying his past under easy smiles and his reckless charm that the thought of being faced with it fills him with shame. He does not think he could bear Rhy’s pity.

“In that case, I am hoping I will have you to save me,” he replies with a shrug. The way he says it is careless. His tone is teasing and bordering on amused, refusing to acknowledge the weight of those words. There is honesty in them still and there is hope in them. His eyes dart around the room before meeting his and for a moment, the mask that he wears so well, slips. 

Rhy is entitled to his anger. Alucard knows that he deserves this and more. He is rarely at a loss for words but Rhy had always been able to leave him speechless. Now, more than ever, he knows no words that would make everything he has done seem any less than the betrayal it had been. He leans against the table for a long moment before straightening up. He walks towards him slowly before sitting down on the chaise, leaving space between them. He leans his head back and a grin appears on his lips at his words as he turns to look at him. “So you admit it then-” he raises an eyebrow, “That you are mine?” 

Alucard holds his gaze for a long moment, the words lingering in the air between them. “My prince,” Alucard repeats the words softly, almost as if to himself. He takes a long sip of his drink. For you. Why else? He offers another shrug, “For the tournament, of course. When have you ever known me to give up an opportunity to show off?”

[nomcurners]

𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖗​.

HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW IT’S GOTTEN TO THIS POINT. How he’s let it get to this point. Because as much as it isn’t his choice to make, Conor feels like it is. It has always been the two of them, for as long as he can remember and even before it had always been Conor and Grace. He’d told her to get help before, in passing comments cushioned by a naive hope that she has this under control. But as she asks him to pull over, sudden and unexpected, this is the first time it is really setting in. They sit in silence, her trying to work up the nerve to ask and him trying to find it in himself to refuse.

“   I’m not doing this shit for you,   ”   he keeps his eyes trained on the road even as he speaks, sparing her the trouble of asking. The words are definitive, thought they are soft spoken, more steeling himself than anything else. The truth sits between them as real as the silence: for Grace, anything. She’d get it whether he helped or not. At least in this way, he might be able to keep her safe in whatever ways he still could. The windshield wipers crossing his eye line and settle back again, blurring his vision.   “   Don’t ask me to do this for you, Grace.  ”

@nomcurners​ (ft. grace)

—

LATER, SHE WILL REGRET THIS. She will remember how he had asked her not to ask this of him and how she had asked anyway, knowing that he wouldn’t deny her anything and she will hate herself for it. She will tell him that it was the last time ; she will make promises she won’t keep and both of them will know that it is a lie but they will want to believe it regardless. Right then though, there is little on her mind except how badly she needs those drugs. She had been staring out the window, the wind blowing on her face. 

It had started out as something innocuous ; the drugs made her focus better on game days and she told herself that those were the only days she would take them on. She tells herself that this is nothing but a small inconvenience. She will stop or at any rate, she will most definitely cut back. Just this one last time and then she can focus on fixing herself. The silence between them has rarely been so heavy but as much as she needs to, she cannot bring herself to form the words. Grace hates the relief she feels when he speaks first. It makes it easier somehow as she turns to look at him, pressing her shaking hand in her lap. “Just this one time Conor-” she closed her eyes, “This last time. I need them for the game later- I-” She takes a deep breath before repeating her words. “This last time.”

[nomcurners]

DESPITE WHAT OTHERS in the office ( including her own sister ) might say about Alastor, she had seemed to hit it off with the man from the very start. She was sure that Alice regretted getting her this job but then watching her sister get infuriated over it had to be up there as one of her favorite parts of this whole thing. She kicked open the door to Alastor’s office, since her hands were occupied with the bags of food. She kicked the door shut behind her, standing wordlessly over his desk until he gets the hint and starts moving the stack of paperwork on it. Antonia puts the food down on the table and leans back in the chair, kicking her legs up on the table. “There’s a betting pool going on about who you’d fire next,” she said, “I bet on Scrim-” Antonia paused, then rolled her eyes, “Whatever his name is. But I think Alice would be funniest.” She nodded towards the food, “I didn’t know what you liked so I just got everything I liked.”

@ghostswish​

[nomcurners]

𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖓𝖆.

—–

SOMETIMES, DEVNA THINKS SHE CAN trace all of her choices back to Iliana. In the past century, she has never let herself fall for anyone, not since her, not since she knows she can’t be trusted with those feelings. She never lingers, never sets down roots–not since her, not until here. Abstractly, Devna knows her life has been a good one; she has made the best out of a terrible curse, she has taken her monstrous ways and helped others with them.

And yet, she’s dreamed of this. And yet, that most selfish part of her has always hoped that they’d find each other again. Devna knows that she doesn’t deserve Iliana’s forgiveness, but she knows too that Iliana has always been better than her in every way that matters, in every way that she loves. It’s saved for the darkest hours of the night, for the loneliest years, but it all boils down to this: underneath the terror of seeing her again, there is unrelenting relief. Underneath the terror, there is a sense of calm that says, of course they would find each other again. It’s just that now that she’s seen her again, Devna doesn’t know how she can give her up a second time, no matter how unworthy she is, no matter how rightfully hated and how monstrous she is in Iliana’s eyes.

It hurts. She knew it would, she knows she deserves it, but it feels like a knife to the chest, a stake to the heart. Words escape her, and she feels so small, so young and foolish in a way she hasn’t felt in a century. But Iliana’s touch sends a full body shudder through her, and when her breath hitches, she knows she never could’ve walked away from this meeting. It’s with a sense of hopeless desperation that she reaches out, catches Iliana’s hand in hers before she can move her hand away. Disappoint. The idea that Devna could ever be disappointed to see her is so ridiculous that she barks out a laugh, but she’s too stunned to think any deeper on the words. “I thought I’d never see you again.” The words are breathless and wild and she feels so far from that calm and happy girl she’s worked so hard to become.

It’s with a sense of hopeless desperation that she says, “Do you want to go somewhere? To—“ she catches herself, knowing she’s gone too far. But it’s rude to stop in the middle of a sentence like that, she tells herself, and so she swallows her cowardice and clings to the shreds of bravery she ignored so wholly so many years ago. “To talk, maybe? I live just a few blocks over, or there’s a park, or that tea shop has the tea you used to like.” The words tumble out too quickly. She wants to run away, she always wants to run from this, but now that Iliana is here she never wants to leave her side. “You can say no, of course. I can—I can go, I mean.”

—

ILIANA HAD SOMETIMES wondered if it had only been her seeing something where there had been nothing. If she had given more meaning, more life to something that might not even cross Devna’s mind anymore. It was easy enough to let herself get lost in her own thoughts, to go over every memory of them and view it through a new lens when she had more time than she knew what to do with. Iliana had always had to stop herself - she didn’t want to taint their time together.

In a sense, Iliana knew she had meant something to Devna. She would not have turned her otherwise ; not unless she couldn’t have beared to see her die. It was just something that was easy to forget in the face of how alone she had left her. Iliana knows why Devna had done it ; knows that she might only have been running from her own demons but she still wished that she had been enough to make her stay. She still wished they had, had more time.

Devna catches her hand in her own and warmth spreads across her chest, as light and bright as hope. “Would you have preferred that?” The words escape her lips before she could stop them. She bites her tongue because she doesn’t want to blame her. She doesn’t want to let her hurt show. She doesn’t want to drive her away and ruin this. It seems so fragile as it is. “I’m sorry-” she waved her hand, “I didn’t mean that-” She had but Iliana hadn’t mean to say it. She shook her head. “I wasn’t sure if I would ever see you again either.” Which was to say that a part of her had always hoped. 

“Yes-” Iliana said almost immediately. She wonders for a moment if she had sounded too eager but she doesn’t want to dwell on it and she doesn’t want to let this pass by. She smiles hesitantly, “You remember how I used to take my tea?” And this time, she is sure that she sounds far too eager - far too hopeful. Iliana shakes her head. “No, I’d like to but-” she paused for a small moment, “You don’t have to feel as if you owe me anything.”

[nomcurners]

SAILORS WERE A SUPERSTITIOUS LOT. There was no limit to the sightings of spirits in these waters and there were times when Evan found himself wishing for it —if only to see him once more. He would have welcomed the sight and yet the only place Evan saw Alastor was in his dreams and it always ended in blood. He still hears his voice in his head. His life had been so close to his own that Evan always knows what Alastor would say even if he no longer remembered the sound of his voice. 

He had seen Alastor hang and he saw it over and over again every time he closed his eyes. The rest might be a blur: his escape or the destruction he had left in his wake but Alastor’s last moments are imprinted in his mind as if it was his yesterday.  There is nothing that can explain him being here now. He had thought him a phantom when he had first seen him moving through his crew while they stood frozen in place but it had been real when he had attacked him. It had been only Evan’s reflexes, honed after all these years in battle that had led him to bringing his sword up to block a blow that would most certainly have been fatal. It had been real when he had backed him against the wall; when he had pressed a knife to his throat; when he had said his name. It had been real when he had cut his throat. The pain had been blinding but Alastor had put his hand over the wound even as blood had flowed between his fingers. His touch - more than anything else - had almost brought Evan to his knees because he knew he could not be imagining that. He lets his sword fall to the floor. Evan had tried to say his name but it had been so long since he had said it. What good was a name when he no longer had him to call it by?  Instead he reached for his wrist, holding his hand there as he had leaned in his touch. He would gladly spill his own blood if it meant he would always stay this close. 

Bellatrix’s arrow had hit Alastor in the shoulder moments later and Evan had felt a sharp sting of anger even if it was the only way. He had felt far away from himself even as he tried to claw his way back to control, back to reality. His crew had come back to itself as soon as Alastor had fallen unconscious. Evan kneeled by him, looking at him, at the blood seeping through his dark shirt and for a moment, a crippling, irrational sort of fear gripped him. He wanted to stay with him, he wanted to be alone with him. He didn’t want to look away from him. They needed to get out of here though because he knew that they would come for Alastor. and Evan had to remind himself that he was still the captain of this ship, he was still the most feared pirate on the seven seas and he would not let himself be caught. He did not know what this meant but he knew he wouldn’t lose Alastor again. “Weigh anchor and crowd the sails,” he had called, tearing his eyes away from him. The effort of raising his voice tore through his throat and the flash of pain makes him see black for a moment until he feels Bellatrix’s nails digging in his arm, pulling him back. 

Later - after they had put enough distance between his ship and land, after he had destroyed the two warship that had pursued them, split them down the middle and left them to sink in the ocean, ( he shouldn’t have been able to; not with this sort of distance in the cover of the night. Not when he was bleeding out and barely able to stand but Evan would break the world if it meant keeping Alastor with him. The Cut had cost him though and he knows it was only Bella who had kept him standing ) and after Bellatrix had taken care of his wound - he paused outside of his cabin door, gathering his strength before entering. He had survived so much and yet this had left him undone. Evan noticed that someone has bandaged his shoulder as well as bound his hands with cuffs and he sat down on the bed besides him, raising his fingers as darkness slithers from his fingertips, finding its way into the locks. There is a small click and then the cuffs fall away. Its only then that he allows himself to look at him properly. He looks calm in his sleep and Evan reaches for him though his hand hovers in the air for a moment. If he touches him, he might just disappear in thin air.

Evan had never considered what it would mean to lose Alastor because he had never thought he would go anywhere he couldn’t follow. After all what had the past twelve years been but Evan trying to find a way to do just that? He hears his name whispered and Alastor is still sleeping though he no longer looks peaceful and Evan touches him finally, brushing his thumb over his forehead. Alastor opens his eyes, saying his name again and something breaks inside of Evan. Alastor starts to sit up and Evan arcs his thumb over the curve of his cheek and he wants to tell him not to move but he doesn’t have it in himself to speak and then he is leaning into him, needing to be close to him. 

Evan doesn’t know how long they stay like that but it is long enough that Evan can no longer hear the beating of his own heart, until the sound in his head quietens and he can feel the brush of Alastor’s hand on the back of his neck and it is nowhere near long enough. He presses his face against the side of his neck and it doesn’t feel close enough either but it does feel as if he is no longer drowning. For the first time in twelve years he feels more man than a shadow. He pulls away just slightly, afraid to tear his eyes from him. He tilts his head slightly, trying to find the words. He wants to say: stay with me. He wants to say: if you have to go again, take me with you. He wants to say: i have been so lonely without you. 

[nomcurners]

THIS IS A PRIZE no one else would have dared to dream about let alone take and yet they had done it. Three of the largest ships in the British treasure galleon and they had brought them to their knees. They had suffered losses of their own but their victory had been decisive - their crews now richer than they could have ever conceived. Evan walks across the thin wooden plank connecting their ships, glancing up at the black raised over the British warships. There is the barest flicker of satisfaction but even victory tastes like ash in the face of the realization that no matter how he makes them pay it will never be enough. He is restless now that the fighting is over and the dust has settled.

Evan crosses the deck of Sinistra’s ship, joining her at the bow. He takes the spyglass from her hand and takes a look but the horizon is clear. In all these years, after everything that had happened, she is the closest he has come to a real attachment. She would slit any man’s throat who called her comforting if only to prove a point but Evan has no need for comfort and he does not bother pretending that he isn’t far more at ease  - far more himself - with her than anyone else. “I will give the prisoners no quarter,” he braces his hand on the bow before glancing at her, “I will hang them from their own ships and leave them for the King to see.” Their attack had been brutal even after the ships had struck their colors and anyone else would have flinched at the sheer violence of it but he knows that Sinistra’s bloodthirst rivals his own.  Evan knows this is a blow that will be felt through the kingdom - that will demand an answer and Evan finds himself looking forward to it. He does not know what to do with himself in the absence of a fight and he knows that this war ends with him dead but he intends to leave a mark. He glances at her. “We should get moving as soon as possible. Secure the gold.”

@ofvcnguard​

[nomcurners]

𝖕𝖔𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖆​.

@nomcurners​

Pomona looked Finn up and down with shrewd, judging eyes as she watched him fuss over her planter of dittany. The Finnigan boys were an odd case. They were adopted by Hogwarts - more by its professors, really - at a young age. She was only an assistant professor then, teaching third years and below, and closer in age to the students than most of her colleagues. It was because of this that she became somewhat of an overbearing older sister to the two boys, worrying over their clothes and coursework, handing out generous detentions to whomever crossed them (justified or not). It was a disappointment when neither actually graduated from school, only because she had seen their brilliance. But life had been cruel. She’d watched Finn protect Rory from it as best he could all this time, and tried to protect both of them herself. If the current state of the more sullen brother was any indication, Pomona had done a rotten job at it.

She leaned against the long work counter lining the greenhouse, planting a hand firmly on her hip. “ When was the last time you ate something other than soda bread and butterbeer? ” Pomona had cared for him, worried over him, for ten years now. The boy was no mystery to her, although he may have had everyone else fooled.

—

FINN HAS ALWAYS BEEN ABLE to find a rare sort of peace with Pomona. It has always been hard for him to accept that he doesn’t have to do everything alone - there is always a part of him that protests at even the barest hint of kindness from others, that can’t help but wonder what sort of strings it comes with but it is different with Pomona. With her, he knows that it is safe. She has looked out for him countless times for him to come to trust her. He could easily spend hours working silently alongside her in her greenhouse and Finn is struck by how simple it is every single time. He has always felt guilty for how Hogwarts had ended - it felt far too much like letting her down. Still, Pomona has always given him her understanding without him ever having to ask for it and for that he always feels a little less alone whenever he is with her.

He looks up from the line of plants at her question. Finn scoffs in reply though his lips curve in a slight smile as he finishes off cutting the leaves and moves on to the next one. He has come to expect this sort of fussing from her but that doesn’t mean it has ceased to surprise him. “This morning actually. Made nuggets.” Finn sounds almost smug. They had been dino shaped - like the ones their mother had used to get for them as a treat. He rolls his eyes before going back to the plants, “I’m fine Pom.”