danidangerbear
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Few of us can even begin to imagine the horror of Regina Mills – with all that destruction sketched into her temporal lobe. It must be like the highest level of hell. A funhouse of fire and twisted glass. A condemnation. That she walks through every single night in her sleep. And then when she wakes, carries around her neck like a hangman's knot. While we just stand there, greedily immersing ourselves in everything that is behind the mirrors. This is a story about breaking. About the feeling of fragmentation as it runs through her. Where out of the cracks comes pure anguish, and then nothing at all. No queen, no mayor, not even a woman. The cracks were all she ever was. An arabesque of broken glass that was painful to look at. But she isn’t the only one wandering off-balance on the brink of some chasm. Everyone is. It's this place. It has a way with people – its way with people. With its very own intentions. And with Emma fast approaching — like a storm — with that something in her eye. A mystery sprinkled with hesitation and some other unidentified emotion. For some reason that Regina can’t explain, looking into those eyes makes her feel like she's ready to drown. Little does she know, death really is only the beginning.
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Hermione Granger and the Flower of the Court by danidangerbear
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
21 Jan 2022
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Forget what you know about Harry Potter and the…
But remember all the parts and pieces that framed its silhouette.
The Second Wizarding War was over. Hermione was trying to find her place in a world that no longer needed a harrowed savior. She wanted normalcy. Armed with nothing more than her wand and a medical degree, she was sent to Versailles to finish up her residency. But what if she never made it there? What if the war was only just beginning? Hermione Granger would be there in the thick of it. Because that’s just how it was always meant to be.
Forget what you know about Veelas.
They are a secret unlike anything you’ve ever come to know. And what you will learn of them could change the very fabric of their story.
Fleur Delacour was in the middle of a war of her own. Tangled in the complex web of political subterfuge and social unrest among her people. And wrestling with the weight of what felt like a never-ending battle between her unique morals and her Veela nature. All she really cared about was her sister. And that strange young doctor who always seemed to be dying to save anyone but herself.
Forget what you know about love.
This could be one for the ages.