Lirael and Sameth from the Old Kingdom novels by Garth Nix, with Mogget, and the Disreputable Dog. They are camping on their way down the Ratterlin at the start of their journey to try to rescue Nick. Sameth’s clockwork frog is catching bugs: an asset to any riverside campsite!
This painting was created for the Fandom for Oz charity auction, thanks to my lovely recipient for being patient about the development in this very odd period of life.
Australia is currently undergoing one of the worst fire seasons on record. At least 30 people have died and over 2000 homes have been destroyed; meanwhile, approx. 1 billion of Australia’s native wildlife have been affected, and some 10.3 million hectares have been burnt.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/3
Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Angels (Good Omens), Demons (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling, Adam Young (Good Omens), Anathema Device, Gabriel (Good Omens), Original Daemon Character(s)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion
Summary:
The relationship between humanity and their daemons has always been a curioustiy of Crowley's, ever since he was present at both the first Settling and the creation of the first Witch. Six thousand years of having to fake one - with Aziraphale's help at times - has given him a constant awareness of them that he can't quite shake. Even if he cannot quite grasp what it would be to truly have one, to never be alone.
Not that he would want a daemon (he does, he does, oh how he does) but with the end times coming, well. Things are changing rapidly and who can see what the fall out is going to be?
(Or Good Omens, but with daemons. And pining, because it's not Good Omens without pining)
First chapter of the second fic I owe for @fandomforoz, this time for @elvendorkinfinity
I may have gone a touch overboard, this is chapter one of three.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Characters: Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister, Addam Marbrand, Podrick Payne
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Historians
Summary:
There's only one thing Brienne detests more than the super popular reality show Race Thru Time - and that's its host, Jaime Lannister.
Once upon a time, I decided to join the list of contributors for @fandomforoz. The ever generous @justajjfan made me the honor to “buy” a story from me.
At her request, here is Everlark in Paris, with a bit of museum, and a bit of fire.
This fic would be nothing without the help I got from @xerxia31 for her awesome beta skills as well as for her help with the image :) Thank you my friend for making everything better.
Katniss was late.
Katniss was never late.
It had become their weekly Monday routine, to meet in the Grande Galerie. Peeta would show her a painting, or a piece of art he particularly liked, or she would take him to the hidden places of the Louvre only a few people knew. She had the keys to all the rooms, knew all the secret stairs, her nightly routine taking her throughout the whole museum.
She was one of the firefighters whose place of work was the most beautiful museum in the world, yet she had almost no knowledge of art.
She had laughed at the Joconde, wondering aloud why people would line up to take a picture with her.
“Look at her,” she had told him. “She isn’t even beautiful. Why do people make such a fuss about her ?”
Peeta had moved towards the painting. It was such a privilege to be able to approach such a masterpiece so closely, without anyone around.
“For today’s tastes, she’s not special. But for Italian Renaissance she was everything. The thing is, it’s all in the eyes and the smile. If you look at her while moving, it’s like she follows you. Try it, Katniss.”
He had smiled when he had seen Katniss cautiously walking around the painting, staring at Mona Lisa, while he could see the astonishment in her features.
“And if you look at her, you’ll see her mouth will fall and turn from a smiling face to a sad one.”
To this day, Peeta still remembered how Katniss’s face had shifted from disbelief to admiration, from curiosity to understanding.
The memory brought him back to reality. Katniss was late. He hoped everything was okay, that the strange sensation he was currently feeling in his stomach was nothing to be worried about.
Yet…
The sound of the sirens brought him to the large, beautiful windows. On the street, dozens of fire trucks were speeding towards the Pont-Neuf with their lights flashing. A few seconds later, another convoy of trucks passed by, again at full speed, heading in the same direction.
Something was going on. Something bad.
He tried not to think of the last time he had seen so many fire trucks, but he took his phone out anyways. He needed to know.
The news had already made the headlines.
Notre Dame is on fire.
Five little words that took the wind out of him.
Peeta had to reread the short sentence several times to be certain he understood it.
Notre Dame, the masterpiece of all cathedrals, the most elegant building of all of the city of light was on fire.
He felt his knees starting to buckle under him, had to lean onto the wall to support himself.
Notre Dame was on fire.
A treasure born in the 12th century, proof of the genius of the men who built it, a splendid building with treasures inside, with unparalleled elegance and grace.
Notre Dame was on fire.
Peeta read that firefighters from all over Paris and the suburbs had been called to join the fight, to try to save the building, the treasures, the stained glass.
The stained glass he wanted to show Katniss one day.
Katniss … As her name entered his mind, he realized what had happened.
With trembling hands, he dialled the internal number nobody ever wanted to use. The one that would reach the team of firefighters of the Louvre.
“Thresh.”
“Hey Thresh, it’s Peeta, Peeta Mellark, from the -”
“The guys from the paintings, I know you. Sorry but Katniss isn’t here tonight.”
“How do - “ Peeta started before realizing with the amount of cameras in the museum, their private visits maybe weren’t that private.
“She’s at the fire. She volunteered.” Thresh answered the question Peeta hadn’t dared ask.
Peeta closed his eyes.
Of course she had volunteered to go. He hung up, not caring anymore what Thresh had to say. Surely something like ‘it would be too dangerous to go’, or that she wouldn’t be able to see or answer him anyway.
The words were lost in a haze.
Peeta ran through the corridors of the museum, for once never stopping to look at the paintings lining the majestic walls, not even taking the time to stop by his office to grab his jacket.
He had walked the Rue de Rivoli so many times, looking at the lovely shape of the windows, the imposing stature of the former kings’ palace, or taking a detour through the Place Vendome, savouring the pleasure of the architecture. This day, though, he ran the whole length of the so long street, ignoring the other pedestrians, running until he reached the Place de la Concorde.
That’s where he spotted the column of smoke for the first time.
From behind the two towers of the building, elegant against the blue sky as always, a dark cloud of smoke was rising, threatening the wooden spire.
Peeta stopped, his breath taken away by the sad sight in front of him.
Something deeper, though, made him start running again. A litany, in his head. Katniss is there, she’s at the fire. Katniss is there, she’s at the fire playing in loop, over and over, with the rhythm of his feet on the pavement.
He couldn’t tell how he managed to get so close to the building, despite the amount of people who rallied towards the cathedral, so close he could almost touch the fire trucks. Yet, instead of looking at the cathedral, he could only focus on the men and women working with their heavy PPE, focusing on the small ones, so he could try to spot who he was looking for. Katniss.
As the day melted into the night, as the spire of the cathedral fell, as people on the perimeter sang, Peeta grew worried.
There were just too many things.
Too many flames licking the heavy stones of the cathedral.
Too many columns of smoke escaping through the stained glass or the open arches of the building.
Too many litres of water that seemed to do nothing to extinguish the fire.
Too many people rushing around, carrying the heavy material, doing their best to save the cultural heritage of the building.
Peeta never thought that one day he would see stone burning. Never thought it would be possible.
He never stopped looking for Katniss whenever he caught sight of a slender frame.
There were just so many firefighters, so many of them running around, connecting fire hoses to the trucks, or to the boats that were pumping water directly from the Seine.
He finally caught sight of her, when she took her helmet off, her braid falling down on her fire jacket, black against red.
He could see the exhaustion radiating off of her when she sat down on the pavement, her head hanging between her hands, shoulders slumped.
“Katniss!” he shouted, hoping his voice would carry over the wind, over the noise of the sirens, over the crowd chanting hallelujahs and ave marias. He thought he saw her turn her head towards him, before she turned back to the tall and lanky man in front of her. It was only a matter of seconds before she was back on her feet, hauling her equipment on her back, as if she were getting ready to dive back into the fire.
She was walking towards the entrance of the cathedral.
“NOOOOOO”
He couldn’t let her go there, couldn’t let her enter a building on fire - yet he wasn’t able to cross the barriers and the policemen blocking the access.
There was nothing he could do.
Nothing.
He felt what heartbreak meant that instant. His soul was torn, his body ached to be close to her.
He had no idea his feelings for her were so strong. So pure. So deep.
He had no idea he even had feelings for her, prior to seeing her entering this burning cathedral of stone.
Now it felt like his heart was breaking into pieces.
After what felt like an eternity, he spotted firemen coming out of the building, heavily loaded with what seemed to be paintings and small statues, stopping only to drink some water before diving back into the furnace.
It was a never ending cycle, in and out of the fire to the hymns of the people who had spontaneously gathered around the cathedral, needing to see what was happening with their own eyes.
To Peeta it was endlessly terrifying when he spotted the familiar silhouette coming in and out, again and again.
The cries of the crowd turned his attention towards the building, towards the flames that could be seen above the two towers, so high in the sky.
The forest was burning.
The 1300 oak trees from the 13th century that made the framing of the cathedral were burning to ashes.
Loud cracks could be heard, even from a distance.
Not loud enough to mask the sounds of the ambulances coming near the building.
It took hours and hours of relentless battle, thousands of tons of water, hundreds of firefighters who fought until the very last minutes of the night to extinguish the fire.
As dawn started to rise, as the sun made its lazy ascent, the fire was out.
The cathedral was still standing.
Burnt, injured, but still standing.
Torn, empty, dirty, but still standing.
Peeta couldn’t believe his eyes as the cathedral remained firmly in place, beaten but not broken.
He saw the Paris firefighters taking off their PPE. Exhaustion was written on their faces, along with something else … pride.
He heard the crowd cheering, the bells of the other Parisian churches ringing, yet he couldn’t join them for now. His eyes were scanning the faces of the men and women who had spent their night fighting against the fire.
Until he saw her.
“Katniss!!!” He shouted in the hopes of being heard, over the shouts and prayers, over the sirens and the water still being thrown on the cathedral.
He thought she couldn’t hear him, until he saw her move her head, as if searching for someone. He felt her eyes pass over him, then saw the perfect moment when she realized he was there.
He hoped the smile that graced her face was for him. He really hoped.
Then she was running towards him, leaving her PPE behind, the loud stomping of her boot clad feet echoing on the pavement. In no time, she was at the barrier, jumping over it just in front of Peeta, ignoring the shouts of the policemen around.
She was in his arms the next second.
--
April 15th 2020.
He checked the time on his watch, smiling.
Katniss was never late, he knew that. That day, though he was a bit more nervous than usual, was a bit unsure of how the day would go.
He finally saw her, looking even more beautiful with every day he had the chance to spend with her.
“Sorry! I was with Prim, she’s the one who insisted on the beret!” She pointed to the little hat she had on her head, that she was wearing a bit on the side like most Parisian women did. In his opinion, it was a game of equilibrium on how they never fell. He was just happy she had left her hair down, as he had every intention of having his hands tanngle in her locks later that day.
“She was right. You are cute.” Peeta grabbed her hand as they started strolling along the quays of the Seine, one of their favorite walks. For once, they were both off work on the same day of the week, something quite rare with their schedules. The Louvre was open every day but Tuesday, yet there was still so much to do in the museum besides ensuring it didn’t catch fire for Katniss.
She had to go through training on how to save the masterpieces displayed, to prioritize which ones to save in case of a fire (which led to a lot of disagreements from Peeta who clearly didn’t agree with the choices of the firefighters), or simply memorizing the museum’s rooms.
Even the small alcove they both had started to visit, trying to find a bit of intimacy out of the eyes of the security cameras. They still both blushed when they remembered the comment from Thresh, about the arrow tattoo Katniss had on her left hip.
They had kept their private sessions to just making out from then on.
(Even though they never walked through the Egyptian Department without thinking of that time Peeta made her cum next to the statue of Amon).
He was brought back to reality when she slapped his arm at his comment.
“I do not look cute!” She scowled, but he could see the spark in her eyes. He knew better, knew she liked his compliments.
“If you say so, Love, if you say so. You ready for a session with Monet?”
“Monet, Monet, Monet, must be funny, in a rich man’s world….”
“Katniss ….” he sighed, trying to prevent the smirk he could feel forming on his lips.
“What? You can’t go wrong with ABBA!” She laughed, making his heart grow even bigger.
Before their first kiss on a sad April morning, a kiss of tears and ashes, Peeta had never thought he could be able to love so much, so fiercely, so deeply, and yet feel so free.
“Where are we going? Orsay is the other way?” Katniss asked, looking around them. “We’re not going to see your painter friends?”
“Surprise, Love, surprise.”
“You know I hate surprises.”
“Yup.”
“Yet you keep on planning them.”
“Yup.”
“You’re irritating.”
“And you love me for that.”
“No, I don’t love you for that.”
When Katniss spoke those words, Peeta felt his heart break a little.
Sure, she had never told him she loved him in such terms, rather shown him in so many different ways …
“Sit down with me…” he hadn’t realized that she was now sitting on the quay, her hand held out for him to take it. He hoped he was able to conceal how much he was hurting at the moment.
“There’s something I need to tell you, Peeta. That I have wanted to tell you for some time now..”
He could feel the cool pavement under the fabric of his jeans. It felt like cold was spreading inside of him. Katniss wasn’t even looking at him, her head turned towards the other bank of the Seine, facing away.
He saw her take a deep breath before she turned to him, before her hand went to his head, cradling it in her warm palm.
He was sure the killing blow, the coup de grâce was coming.
“Peeta, look at me…” Her voice was soft as the wind, light as a feather. He mustered all the strength he had in him before raising his eyes, before blue met grey. She had the most fascinating eyes he had ever seen. That would never change.
“Peeta, you keep calling me ‘Love’…” He closed his eyes, willing the tears to fade away, wishing for the heartbreak to stop. “Nobody’s called me ‘Love’ before. I’ve been… damn, this is hard!”
This was hard? He couldn’t believe his ears.
He was opening his mouth to tell her to go for the kill directly when she put her hand on his lips.
“Don’t, Peeta. This is something I have to do. For me, for you… for us.” He could feel her fingers shaking as she took a deep breath.
”You took me by surprise, Peeta. I never thought I would… feel so much. At first I blamed it on the fire, on the pain that it brought us, you, that it brought me. It was so awful being inside the cathedral, seeing all this stone being eaten by the fire. I thought something inside me had broken… and then I saw you… you’d been waiting for me all night. All night. And I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t know what was happening inside me then. Didn’t know the effect you’d have on me, Peeta.”
She turned to look at the water, letting her hand fall from his face before she continued.
“I never thought I had so much joy in me, how the little things could become so important. How a single person could have such an impact on me. How three words could make my heart grow so big I thought it would explode.”
Peeta listened, as she went on. It felt like he was living a dream.
“You call me courageous and strong, Peeta. You rave about how you’re impressed when I run into a fire, on how strong I am. Yet, I am not strong enough to say these three words, even though I want to. I’ve wanted to tell you them since the day you told me… Why is it so hard?”
She turned to him, her eyes shining.
He felt something blossoming inside of him. He knew it was love, spreading its wings. Peeta moved closer to Katniss, taking her hand in his.
“It’s hard, because once you say it, it becomes real. The question is… Do you want it to be real?”
She nodded. He went on.
“You don’t have to shout them. You can whisper them in my ear if you want…”
She smiled, and her smile was brighter than the sun. She seemed to hesitate for a second, before leaning into him. He felt her breath on his neck, on his jaw as well as the kisses she left there., Her hair tickled him. It was not enough, yet it was too much at the same time. He wanted to take her lips with his, wanted to ravish her mouth, wanted to take her to his place where they would make love until the early hours of the morning, wanted her.
He knew though that it would have to wait a few seconds. Because Katniss was about to give him the gift he hadn’t dared wish for.
He felt her take a small breath, before the words were spoken softly, for his ears only.
“I love you.”
Something exploded inside of him. It felt like he could achieve anything.
The only thing he wanted to do in that moment though was to kiss her until they ran out of breath.
So he did it.
When the bells of Notre-Dame rang for the first time in a year, they were still kissing.
