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happyyyandcrazyyy · 10 months

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liquid dreams (draco malfoy x reader)

summary: (y/n) is gone and if the only way for draco to see her is through dreams, so be it

“grief is the price we pay for loving.”

warnings: it’s written in non-chronological order, draco is really going through it, grieving process, mentions of blood (not detailed)

(if there’s any more warnings you think i should add let me know!)

a/n: i’m usually one to write fluff, but i wanted to write something more personal, more raw. this one was a roller coaster to write. hope you enjoy it!

i. five months and twelve days after the accident

Draco opens his eyes in panic, breathing labored and loud. He’s scared and confused, and he would be downright spiraling into an anxiety attack if this wasn’t such a common occurrence.

(The first night it’d happened he found himself unable to breath. He’d desperately stumbled out of bed, the haziness of sleep making everything distorted and disorienting. He’d hit his knee against the door, he’d bled on the white tiles of their bathroom floor. He’d spent two hours in the shower that night, fully clothed. The coldness of the water hadn’t been enough to soothe the burning heartbreak that gnaw on his soul, but it’d been enough to anchor him back.)

It takes him a moment to realize he’s frozen mid-action, one of his hands reaching forward and his fingers slightly curved, as if they’d been grasping something.

No. Not something. Someone.

Suddenly everything comes back, jumbled pieces of a half-remembered dream.

Her smile, the small crinkle by her eyes, the warmth of her skin under his fingertips.

Draco chokes out a gasp.

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

In desperation he reaches for his own throat and grips it tightly, just firmly enough to feel the thumping of his blood under his palm. The unsteady pulse tethers him to reality, reminds him that he’s still alive, helps him settle enough for air to fill his lungs.

He chokes out a gasp, coughs roughly.

Instinctively, almost as an afterthought, Draco reaches for her side of the bed only to immediately reel his hand back when he’s met with cold, unused sheets. It’s been months and he still doesn’t dare to sleep on her side, still keeps everything of hers untouched— her blue toothbrush by the sink, her favorite slippers, the book she left on the coffee table. He knows preserving her things won't bring her back, he does it anyways.

Draco sighs and the sound reverberates, taunts him. It’s a reminder that he’s all alone, a reminder that a room once filled with soft snores and gentle laughter is now quiet enough for him to hear the pounding of his own heart, a reminder that over the last couple of months everything around him has been slowly filling itself with grief and sadness and pain and regret.

No wonder Draco can’t sleep, he’s suffocating.

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, hard enough to have dotted spots of light fill his vision, firmly enough to keep the tears at bay. If he concentrates, he can still see the outline of the face he’d been dreaming about.

(Her, her, her. Always her.)

Once his heart settles and he can breathe properly, Draco reaches for the little vial by the bed. It’s already half empty. Without a second thought Draco downs the remaining liquid before tossing the glass aside, ignoring the way it smashes against the floor. He forces himself to lay still, wills his eyes to remain shut. He lulls himself back to sleep, lets the potion bring him under.

(It does not matter that waking up will feel like his soul is being carved out and his heart ripped out of his chest, that he cannot handle coming back to a reality where she’s gone. If dreams are the only place he can be with her, he’ll dream.)

The last thing he remembers before losing consciousness is turning to his side and hugging himself close; a poor attempt at replicating the safety her arms once provided.

ii. two weeks and six days after the accident

Narcissa Malfoy arrives through Floo Network on a Saturday morning. She turns up without a warning, completely uninvited, and makes herself at home. Draco reckons it’s partially his fault, after leaving the magical world he’d been the one that had insisted they connect their home to the Floo Network, for precaution. He’d never shared their location with his parents, but he isn’t surprised his mother had been able to easily locate him. She is a Malfoy, thoroughly resourceful.

She doesn’t hug him, neither does she make any attempt to offer words of condolences. Draco wasn’t expecting them, they’re Malfoys, after all; kind touches are scarce, gentle words even more so, but it still stings, like alcohol burning over a wrongly healed scab. His mother gives him a dismissive look, one that has Draco shrinking into himself.

“This is unacceptable,” is the first thing she says, voice as firm as the last time they spoke to each other, almost eight years ago. Draco can’t help the way he flinches. He doesn’t know if she’s talking about the state he’s in— because he's in disarray, hasn’t showered in three days, hasn’t changed clothes in even longer— or the mess around the house.

She steps closer, scrunches her nose and looks him over with something akin to disgust, then clicks her tongue in distaste.

“Go shower.”

Draco finds his feet moving before he can even process the instruction.

(It’s rattling, having her here after not seeing her for years. It’s also frightening how quickly he goes back to obeying her every order.)

As he showers Draco tries to shake himself out of the whirlwind of emotions that his mother’s presence has unleashed. It’s hard to do so when his mind feels as if it’s been split in half; one part mourning the loss of his wife and the other still expecting her to come home. He’s struggling to grasp his reality, trying to ignore the ever-growing emptiness in his chest. Draco closes his eyes and sighs deeply, he lets the cold water numb his skin, lets it steel him just enough to face his mother.

He thinks he’s handling himself better when he walks into the kitchen— new clothes on his skin and hair still wet —but then he catches his mother’s house-elf reaching for (Y/N)’s dirty wine glass, the one she left half empty when she walked out that night, and Draco loses it.

It’s been years since he’s used magic, but it’s instinctive the way he reaches for his wand. (He never did get rid of the habit of carrying it with him everywhere.) He points it at the creature, hand shaking, but voice surprisingly stern, “Do not touch her things.”

His vision blackens at the corners, blood rushing through his ears. He can’t let them erase the traces of her in their home. He can’t. He can't. Not right now, not when he sees pieces of her everywhere, not when his heart has an open wound that keeps on bleeding and Draco hopes he could just wake up from this hellish nightmare and go back to a place where she's still here, where she's still alive.

“Now, don’t be childish, Draco.” It isn’t until his mother speaks that he realizes that he’s been mumbling under his breath, loud enough for her to hear. His vision clears, the hazy feeling in his brain diminishes. He blinks back into reality, catches a glimpse of his mother’s impassive face from the corner of his eye, realizes the house-elf has backed away from the glass and is now bowing to him, limbs trembling in fear and nose almost touching the floor.

He lowers the wand slowly, almost mechanically, as he turns to his mother.

“You will not touch her things.”

She clicks her tongue. The sound makes him flinch away— because it always came before a slap in the wrist, or his ear being pulled tight — but he somehow manages to hold his ground, wand still held tightly, fingers becoming numb.

“You’re living in a dumpster, look at all the mess,” she gestures around the room with revulsion. Draco can’t see anything but residue of love around the house. It’s everywhere, in the doodled notes left on the fridge and the bottle of wine they never got to finish. He won’t let them take that away from him, take her away from him. Not yet. Not with his heart is still bleeding and missing and yearning.

“No touching,” he repeats himself. His voice doesn’t waver in the slightest, it sounds steadier than he feels, and there must be something in his semblance because his mother relents.

It’s with distaste that she spits out, “Fine, have it your way,” and sends the house-elf back home.

She doesn’t leave, however. She takes over the kitchen, the smell of sugar and cinnamon filling the air— and that’s how Draco knows she’s truly stressed, because his mother only ever bakes when she feels as if she’s losing control of the situation at hand and money can’t fix it. Draco swallows down the pastries when they’re placed in front of him and he’s given a pointed look. (He pretends they aren’t insipid; pretends they don’t feel like ash going down his throat. He doesn’t tell his mother that his appetite is mostly gone, that eating feels like an arduous task, that these days he throws up just about anything he eats. He doesn’t have the energy to do so, he reckons she wouldn’t care, anyways.)

Draco chews and chews and chews until it becomes a mechanical habit and then he disconnects his brain. He ignores the way the buttery, sweet smell that lingers around the house reminds him of the apple pie (Y/N) used to bake, he blinks away the tears when a little voice in the back of his head reminds him that he won’t ever get to taste it again.

His mother lingers in the background— just like she’d done when he’d been a child and she’d wanted to see how much he’d progressed on his French after a two-hour tutoring session, ready to make vile comments about his accent and his grammar —and Draco can’t do anything without hearing an offhanded mumble about how pathetic he’s being. Her lingering used to petrify him, it made him want to be perfect for her, but now it just irks him. Draco wants to yell at her to leave him the fuck alone, but his anger is feeble, and grief smothers the fire before it turns into rage. The words remain stuck at the back of his throat.

Sometimes, when the sorrow eases and Draco is lucid enough to pay attention, he catches the glimpses of annoyance in his mother’s eyes. He knows that the only reason she’s here is to play damage control, to make sure he doesn’t derail too far and tarnish their last name even further. (The reputation of the Malfoy family had taken a hard hit after the Second Wizarding War when his father had been declared guilty and sent to Azkaban. It’d only worsened when Draco failed to fulfill his responsibilities of stepping up as patriarch in his father’s absence, instead deciding to elope and disappear to the muggle world.) Draco also knows that his mother wishes for simple solutions, she expects to place a bandaid over his ruptured soul and have him immediately snap back to his younger self. That won’t ever happen— Draco won’t ever go back to who he used to be before meeting his wife, before discovering love and warmth and safety —and her slowly rising frustration is a sign that she’s beginning to realize that.

In the end it’s his inability to get out of bed that gets her to snap.

“I’ve had enough.”

Draco blinks up at her.

Today is a bad day, the kind of day where breathing hurts and the feeling of his heart pumping is just a reminder that he’s alive and she’s not, the kind of day where he feels as if he’s underwater and slowly drowning.

He sees her mouth moving, hears the distorted words she’s saying, but can’t engage. It’s like he’s watching her through a screen, witnessing a scene far removed from him.

“I’m done letting you play your childish games. I’ve been lenient enough.” Her irritation is palpable, but Draco can’t process it.

He’s sinking and sinking and sinking.

“Get up.”

Why is she yelling?

“Get up, Draco.”

He can’t.

“Unbelievable.” And now she’s grabbing the end of the sheets and pulling them off the bed. Draco can’t bring himself to care. He can’t bring himself to even lift a finger. It angers her. He might be slipping away, but he sees it in the way her mouth tightens into an ugly sneer. Instinctively, he prepares himself for the harshness that always accompanies that look.

“She was just a silly little girl, Draco.”

The words cut sharply through the water and the grief and the pain. Suddenly Draco isn’t sinking anymore, suddenly it’s like he’s been zapped with an electrical wire. The numbness is pushed to the back of his mind and replaced with something darker, something ugly.

His mother doesn’t stop there.

“I thought letting you have your fun would be enough. I thought you would grow tired of her.” And now his brain is functioning properly and the words are making sense and Draco can’t help the way his brows pull up in confusion. His mother notices, of course she does, and she lets out a mocking laugh, one that has Draco’s blood turning cold.

“What? You think you ran away and got married behind our backs?” she scoffs, arms crossing over her chest. “I knew all along, child. I let you run around and play out your foolish little fantasy of love. See how that turned out.”

Draco can’t breathe. There's pressure in his chest, tightening and contracting. Anger begins to ignite; it goes from a fleck to a small flame.

“It’s over, Draco. You’re coming home.”

He shakes his head, manages to find the strength to sit up. It’s the first time he’s moved in hours and his muscles protest.

“I am home.”

That makes her snort, a mixture of disgust and insulting laughter.

“This place?” His mother looks around in disgust. “This isn’t your home.”

She clicks her tongue.

“And that dumb girl? She’s dead,” she scoffs and under her breath adds, “and thank Salazar for that, all that mudblood ever did was stain our name.”

Anger takes over, the flame becomes a blazing inferno, scorching everything around, it runs hot through his veins until all that is left is unrestrained, seething rage. It’s the first time it’s burning enough to destroy.

And Salazar does Draco want to consume everything around him.

“Never talk about my wife that way again.”

The words come out strong for a voice that hasn’t been used in hours.

He doesn’t know when he moves but now he’s towering over her and his hands are shaking by his side.

Silly little girl.

Mudblood.

To dare use those words to describe the love of his life, someone who could light up a room with a single smile and could fix all troubles with a few kind words, makes Draco enraged.

Draco looks at his mother and he just wants her to hurt.

“You don’t know the first thing about love, so who are you to come preach about it, mother.” He spits the words with disgust, uses a tone he knows will sting.

He’s never talked back to her, ever, and her shock is evident in the way she gapes at him with disbelief.

“I won’t have you speaking to me in such—”

“Get the fuck out.”

Draco has never cursed at her before. He’s never interrupted her, either. His mother looks like she’s been slapped, like she doesn’t recognize the person standing in front of her.

“Draco—”

“Out.”

She looks him over one last time, something akin to disappointment in her eyes, before jutting her chin and slamming the door on her way out.

With a sigh, Draco walks back to bed and curls into himself. It doesn’t take long for the anger to evaporate and for him to slip back into despair, to sink and sink and drown.

Numb. Numb. Numb.

Hours, or maybe just minutes, later she comes back. Her tone has been schooled back into the indifferent one Draco is more than accustomed to. She tells him that she’s leaving because of his father, that ever since being released from Azkaban he hasn’t been coping well and she must return home to ensure his health. Draco doesn’t call her out on her bullshit, doesn’t even turn around to face her, he just hums.

Numb. Numb. Numb.

His mother doesn’t come back.

iii. five days after the accident

It feels like floating through a dream, everything hazy and limbs lethargic. He goes through the motions out of pure muscle memory, mind disconnected and hidden somewhere far away. It’s like an outer body experience, as if he's watching himself move and talk without having any true control over it. He hurts so deeply, and the pain is so raw that Draco pushes it away and stores it in a dark place in the corner of his mind, a place where it can’t kill him. He takes all other emotions, too, until nothing but numbness is left behind.

Reality doesn’t seem real, because how can the world keep moving and the sun rising and the birds chirping if she’s gone. How can his heart keep beating if hers doesn’t?

The muggles at work worry about him, even with his mind clouded by grief he can tell. Mrs. Bailey, the kind older lady for who he works by serving tables and mopping floors, hugs him tightly when he walks into the cafe shop less than a week after the accident. She doesn’t say a thing about him missing work, but rather pulls him close, shushing him gently and running a hand through his hair. It's a motherly act Draco is unfamiliar with. Her eyes show so much sympathy, but Draco doesn’t let himself think too much about that because that might end up causing him to spiral, and he won't allow himself to slip (he can't let himself slip, last time he slipped he spent hours in the bathroom floor, pulling at his hair to try to ground himself back to reality, biting down on his lip and bleeding).

Her hug should provide some sort of comfort, but Draco can't feel a thing. That should make him sad, and maybe it does, but all emotions are muted, and he doesn't even try to understand them.

His coworkers are also gentle with him, so much so that if he were in his right mind Draco would find it annoying, but he allows it because he feels as if a single wrong touch might break him apart beyond repair.

They try to reach out to him, too, but Draco finds himself hiding away at home, rejecting every offer to hang out or keep him company. He wishes to be alone— even when the loneliness sometimes claws up his throat and suffocates him —so he can wallow in the waves of sorrow and let them pull him under.

Draco wants to hurt, he thinks, because at least then he’s feeling something.

He floats away in dreams of despair and struggles to find a will to live, sometimes he’s not even capable of picking himself up from bed, and the only reason he doesn’t starve is because Mrs. Bailey drops him leftovers every night.

Draco is so unbelievably grateful for her, even if he doesn’t verbalize it, even if he just nods and offers him a half smile and closes the door in her face. He hopes she knows.

iv. two months and four days after the accident

Draco wouldn’t say he has withdrawn into himself, Pansy thinks otherwise. She never says so— she wouldn’t, she’s been unbelievingly gentle with him the last couple of months, far kinder than Draco ever thought her capable of being — but Draco overheard her talking to Blaise, tone filled with worry.

And Draco, well, he’s dealing as best as he can. It’s just hard to function properly when the sadness never settles and instead becomes stronger, grips his heart and squeezes at the most unexpected moments. Some days are good, and other days he’s drowning and sinking and choking on grief, always halfway through a nervous breakdown. Those days he can’t leave his bed, he can’t even eat, breathing and moving become the most painful tasks. Draco will admit he has become more quiet, more absent, but withdrawn feels like going too far.

In the past, he would've argued with Pansy that he hasn't withdrawn into himself, that he's alright, that he's managing as much as he can. In the past, he would've petulantly argued that she just doesn’t get it, explained that everything hurts and maybe— if ever under the influence of Firewhisky —might’ve even confessed that he feels as if sadness has its clutches so deep into his heart that the wound is slowly getting infected, admitted that he’s scared it will never heal. But this isn’t the past and Draco is nothing but the broken pieces of who he used to be, so he doesn’t open his mouth. He doesn’t argue, doesn’t call her out for speaking about him behind his back, doesn't even try to contradict her.

Existing is tiring and Draco just doesn’t have the energy to spare.

Pansy watches him with something akin to pity and fear, like she can see how he's fading and is scared he'll disappear if she looks away. (Draco doesn't blame her. Some days it does feel as if he could vanish, as if his body could fade into nothingness, as if his mind could give in into despair and anger and just never return. Part of him had hoped time would soothe the emptiness in his heart, but it’d been like applying salve on an open wound. Time hadn’t done a fucking thing.)

And it’s just because he doesn’t have any fight left in him that Draco lets Pansy be— he allows her to coddle him, he eats as much as he can muster when she begs and drinks the tea she prepares before leaving at night. It’s the only reason he’s here right now, back in wizarding London and walking at a stagnating pace through Diagon Alley, because Pansy said fresh air and a change of scenery would do him good and Draco just didn’t have it in him to argue.

He tugs at the hood of the cloak he’s wearing— it’s an old one of his, one Pansy found buried in the depths of his closet, one that fits awkwardly and smells musty but does a good enough job at concealing his distinguishing silver hair— and follows closely behind her.

It’s weird, he thinks to himself, being back in the wizarding world after many years spent in muggle London. He can’t deny that there’s a sense of familiarity at seeing and feeling the magic around, a warm tugging in his chest— probably his own dormant magic, one that hasn’t been used for far too long, responding to the energy around him —but there’s also an underlying sense of unsettledness.

He’d promised (Y/N) to return to the magic world once tension lessened and things sorted themselves out. They were meant to walk these streets together. Draco walks them all alone.

Something twists uncomfortably in his chest. He’s grown accustomed to the pain, so he pushes it down and allows Pansy to grab the hem of the cloak and pull him into a shop.

The smell hits him first, it's a mixture of wet parchment and mint with a hint of licorice. Surrounding him are what feels like a thousand objects— some small, some larger —but all unrecognizable to Draco. It's uncomfortable to see with his own eyes how the magical world has kept on evolving, even after they left. It's even more unbearable that his first reaction is to turn around to meet (Y/N)'s eyes, only to find his side empty. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, one that intertwines itself with melancholy and agony.

Draco distracts himself by looking around. Pansy follows him around for a while, and after realizing that he won't suddenly burst out into tears and collapse (which Draco can't blame her for believing as it has happened before) she leaves him to buy whatever she came here for.

It's as he's mindlessly looking through the stands, fingers flickering uninterested through small parchment pieces that transcribe whatever is mumbled to them, that Draco sees them; small vials, no bigger than his thumb, containing a blueish substance. There's a tag sticking to the lid. Draco moves closer, turns the paper around gently and is met with neatly written, italicized words.

He skips over the first few words, eyes drawn to the last few sentences.

"Our amazing liquid formula lets you control your dreams so you can visualize any event that has happened in the past with vivid detail. Imagine being able to wake up feeling like you just spent the night with your childhood best friend who moved away 10 years ago, or a loved one who has passed away. All it takes is a few drops before bed and voilà! You chose the memory, and we do the rest. The opportunities are endless with our state-of-the-art formula that helps you unlock the past and immerse yourself in memories like never before. Make sure to..."

Liquid Dreams, they call it.

Draco buys a few vials before he's even done reading the tag.

v. two months and three weeks after the accident

Draco stares at the little vial, unblinking. Somewhere out in the living room there's an old clock, the type they don't really fabricate anymore, antique, made of old deep wood and with its classic curvy shape. It's quiet enough that Draco can hear it ticking all the way to the master bedroom.

Tick. Tock.

The vial remains where it was placed by Draco when he bought it almost three weeks ago, contents untouched. It mocks him, an unwanted reminder that he could see her again if he wasn’t such a coward.

Tick. Tock.

He steps closer, reaching out for the glass, before hesitating and backing away, resuming his pacing around the room. The sole of his foot hits the wooden ground soundlessly, the lack of noise makes him feel all the more alone.

Tick. Tock.

Draco chews on his lower lip, makes it bleed. All he wants is within his reach, but he's so fucking scared. Because what happens if he sees (Y/N), or the memory of her, and it does nothing to soothe the burning in his heart. He'd be doomed then, destined to walk the rest of his life with a bleeding wound in his soul, destined to dance with grief until his feet ache and blister and his body just gives up and he dies, too. Draco’s heart wouldn’t survive that.

Tick. Tock.

But then again, a little voice chimes at the back of his head, it can’t get worse than this. It can’t get worse than days that blur into one another, than the way he loses control of his mind, fog condensing in his head, and he blinks awake only to find himself in a place he can’t remember walking to. It can’t get worse than coming back home to an empty house, a cold bed, to solitude, with his heart feeling so heavy it weights him down. It definitely cannot get worse than it is because he’s already missing her with his every breath, with every beat of his heart.

Tick. Tock.

It comes from somewhere within him, the sudden impulse, a surge of energy that has him moving forward to undo the lid. He tips the blue substance back, swallows it down in one go before he can second guess himself. No going back now. In the rush, Draco forgets to think of a specific moment.

Tick. Tock.

The taste is strange, indescribable: sweet and bitter all at once. Draco can feel the liquid burning as it goes down, it leaves an aftertaste that lingers heavily in his mouth. It tastes weirdly artificial, like someone tried hard to make it taste like fruits and flowers but failed, he can feel it at the back of his throat. The effect of the potion is almost instantaneous, the abruptness hitting Draco strongly and making him stumble into the side of his bed.

Tick.

He tries to fight the exhaustion, but it’s like his eyelids are trying to shut themselves together. Draco can do nothing but give in to sleep, let himself be swept under.

Tock.

When he opens his eyes, he isn’t lying in bed anymore. The sun shines brightly in the sky, it makes him squint and look away. He recognizes the smell immediately, salty and musky, like seaweed and sunscreen. Draco knows where he is— the beach near Sussex to which they apparated once they left the Wizarding World all those years ago —and he knows exactly who is behind him. With his heart beating so hard it’s almost painful, Draco turns around to be greeted with a smile he knows too well, one he could paint with his eyes closed.

(Y/N).

Her eyes crinkle with mirth. Something within Draco deflates. It feels as if, for the first time since the accident, he can finally breathe.

When he wakes up in the morning, Draco tells himself he'll be careful with the potion, won't abuse it. But he finds himself chugging down the blue liquid every night, buys a box of Liquid Dreams and keeps the vials hidden under his bed.

Anything to see her one more time.

vi. six months and a day after the accident

Draco could choose any memory, he knows that, and sometimes he does. He picks the first time they kissed (under the snow during a trip to Hogsmeade), he revisits their arrival to the beach near Sussex (because she’d never seen the beach before, had never felt the sand under her toes, and Draco basks on the feeling of her happiness), he relieves their short honeymoon (the dinner under the moonlight, the wandering hands, the stolen kisses, the feeling of her breath against his cheek and her skin pressed right against his). Most of the times, however, he brings himself back to that night. It isn’t intentional, it happens when he doesn’t focus hard enough on a memory, almost as if his mind wishes to torture him further. Because it is torture, going back to their last moments together— to the last time he ever saw her alive —without the blissful ignorance of what’s to come.

On nights like that he wakes with his heart ready to leap out his chest, sometimes halfway through a panic attack, tears cascading down his cheeks, and then he lays awake for the rest of the night, pulling himself together piece by piece, stitching the metaphorical laceration on his heart with deep breaths, before forcing himself to go through the motions, get through the day.

The sadness never disappears, it follows him like a shadow on the sunniest of days. Sometimes it seems to grow smaller— or maybe Draco gets used to its looming presence, it’s darkness —and it gives space to anger, which settles between his ribs and climbs all the way up to his throat and burns. Sometimes it feels as if the rage will seep out of his pores, tainting him. He’s angry at everything, at the world, at her, at himself. Waking up every morning to a reality in which she’s gone makes the anger increase by a tenfold, it’s so so fucking painful, but at night, when he sees her and feels her and holds her— even if it’s just in memories and dreams —the feeling mellows and that’s why he must return to her, must drink the cloudy blue potion every night, because if he doesn’t he knows the mixture of grief and rage and resentment will consume him.

It isn’t a problem, it really isn’t— so what if he sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night screaming for her to stay, what if sometimes he wishes he could stay in his dreams to keep on holding her close, what if coming back to reality just makes the whole in his heart deeper, that’s no one’s business but his own. That is, until he starts seeing her outside the dreams.

It begins with shadows, the outline of her body. Draco blinks once, twice, and then it’s gone.

“Malfoy? You good?”

He meets his coworker’s eyes. Mark is young, barely twenty, started working in the restaurant only a couple of months ago. He wasn’t here when Draco lost (Y/N), didn’t get to see the way he broke down and pieced himself back together, didn’t experience the gentleness and leniency with which they all treated him, but he seems to be acutely aware that something happened because he’s soft with him too.

“What?”

Mark cocks his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing, “You look like you saw a ghost.”

Draco thinks he might’ve. He decides to blame it on the lack of proper sleep.

“I’m fine.”

But he’s not fine, because he keeps seeing her. It becomes more recurrent as time goes on, and (Y/N)’s ghost goes from being a just dark shape to taking full on corporeal form. He can even see the little freckles on her skin.

It’s concerning.

Draco knows she’s not real, not really, just the remnants of a memory, a side effect of drinking Liquid Dreams every night when the wizarding company that produces the potion suggests a maximum of two vials per week.

He should stop.

He doesn’t.

He can’t.

He keeps on tipping the vial back, drinking the liquid, making a grimace at the flavor. He keeps being a spectator from within his own body, keeps going back to that night.

It's the only way to be with her.

It always starts the same way, the smell of garlic and oregano in the air, the soft jazz tune playing in the radio. Draco finds himself moving without his own permission, the glass of wine he holds in his hand guiding itself towards his mouth. He's long learned that the experience is gentler for his mind, and overall better, if he doesn't fight it. It's useless, anyhow, he can't change what already happened, he's just reliving his memories.

"Merlin, that smells so good," his voice sound foreign to his ears. He reaches forward to hug (Y/N) from behind, swaying her to the beat of the song and humming the last notes against her skin. She smiles and tips her head back a little, enough to allow him to place a chaste kiss to her neck. Draco's heart tightens at the ease in which they move around one another, the familiarity of her body pressed to his own.

"It's your favorite," she responds gently, moving the wooden spoon with which she's mixing the sauce towards him, tipping it back so he can taste it. It's thick and buttery, rich and only slightly sweet, just like he likes it.

Draco groans playfully, presses his forehead to the crook of her neck.

"I'm the luckiest man."

"And don't you forget it," she teases, moving aside to let him take over. She steals the glass of wine from his hand and moves away giggling when Draco makes a poor attempt at following after her. She drinks the remaining alcohol, sticking her tongue out at him.

He feels his throat close up, melancholy settling deep within his bones. He tries to memorize the curve of her smile, the sound of her laughter. Draco wishes he could change what comes next, wishes he could instead rush forward and capture her lips in a kiss, make her stay with him. He can't, because that’s not what he did that night. Instead, he rolls his eyes, soft laughter falling from his lips. It’s ironic how he’s laughing in his memory, but slowly dying inside as he forces himself to live this moment over and over again.

From the corner of his eye, Draco watches as (Y/N) refills the glass, taking a small sip. He cleans up some pieces of onion, listening as (Y/N) sings softly to herself, the cadence of her voice is smooth, it flows and mixes effortlessly with the one coming from the radio. Draco could hear her sing forever. There's a light patter of rain against the window as he preheats the oven, so he closes the window to prevent any water from slipping in.

It's a slow night, a Saturday night, the type of nights in which they'll cook together and drink a bit, and then some more, and dance drunkenly around the kitchen only to end up in their bedroom, discarding their clothes and rediscovering each other's bodies.

It should've ended that way.

It won't.

Don't say it. Don't say it.

"Hey, love, where did you put the mozzarella? Can't find it on the fridge."

There's a small, soft, "Oh, shit," in the background. Her singing stops. The rain becomes heavier.

"Forgot to buy it," she replies, already moving for the keys to their small car.

It's alright, he wants to scream out, we don't need it. Stay. I'll cook something else. Don't leave.

What falls out of his mouth instead is, "My forgetful little one."

Please stay. Please.

She scrunches her nose up, just the way she always does when he calls her by that nickname. Draco always thought it made her look cute. Now it only makes him want to cry. She crosses the room, presses a quick kiss to his lips.

"I'll be back soon."

He's yelling inside his own head, can feel the dread settling somewhere in his stomach.

Please don't leave.

Don't go.

Stay.

"Be safe," he calls out. He rages within himself, desperate to do something different, say something different.

I love you, and it feels like his throat is going raw with how loud he's crying out. He tries to open his mouth, to move, to do anything, but it's futile.

Because that night, (Y/N) walks out the door, and Draco doesn't tell her he loves her one last time.

vii. seven years, three months and two days before the accident

Draco falls in love quick and hard, and once he realizes it, he's in too deep. He doesn't know how it happens, he just knows that one day he looks at (Y/N)— watches the way snowflakes fall on her hair, slowly painting it white, and how she looks up the sky as if it's her first time ever seeing the snow, smile so bright it makes something in Draco's chest tighten —and he thinks to himself yeah, fuck, I would spend the rest of my life by her side.

(And Draco can't pinpoint where along the line he fell in love, but he knows precisely why. It's all in the way her laugh floats around the air and settles somewhere within his heart, the sound soft and comforting, and how her eyes become gentle when they set on him, like she can see through him and wishes to take away anything that could cause him harm. It's the soft caresses of his hair, the delicate kisses to his forehead, the way in which her hand subconsciously searches for his. It's in the way that (Y/N) sees all parts of him, including the dark and ugly, the sides of himself that he's ashamed of, and she doesn't flinch away in disgust, but rather pulls him closer. It's the way she loves, so effortlessly, and the way she teaches Draco how to be better every day, a better human, a better friend, a better lover.)

Falling in love is not something he ever planned on doing, the last thing Draco wanted was to drag someone into the mess that was his life, but by the time he has half a mind to think about stopping it, his heart has already crawled out of its place deep within his chest and has settled in (Y/N)'s hand, where it's being tenderly held and thoroughly cherished. It might just be the worse time to be thinking of love— because, despite what the Ministry of Magic insists on, the Dark Lord is back, and the unmistakable mark that contrasts his father's pale skin has never been darker, and there's people with masks coming and going around the Manor, and slowly the pressure on Draco's shoulders is piling and piling and piling and he's beginning to feel like he can't breathe— or maybe it's just the right time. After all, (Y/N) is like a breath of fresh air, like warm, soothing hands on his blemished soul. Draco feels weightless when he's around her, like all his troubles are unimportant and nothing in the world matters but the two of them. He feels at peace, like he can finally rest.

She becomes his best friend, his confidant, and so much more. Draco loves her, can't think of a life without her, wants to keep her safe, wants to be with her.

Maybe that's the reason why a couple of years later, when the Second Wizarding War comes to an end and they're holding each other close after the Battle of Hogwarts, skin torn open, wounds still oozing blood, muscles aching, but both of them undeniably still alive, that Draco cups her face between his hands and whispers against her lips, "Let's start a new life, you and I."

They do.

They leave a shattered Wizarding World behind. They escape the clutches of Draco's family. They abandon magic.

It's the beginning of the happiest eight years of Draco's life. It's also the beginning of the end.

Years down the line, a bottle of Firewhisky in hand and alcohol running through his veins, Draco will wonder if he should've kept quiet, if they should've stayed instead. They would not have been together, his family would've never allowed the union between a Malfoy and a muggleborn, but at lease she would still be alive.

viii. the accident

(Y/N) dies on a Saturday. Her favorite day of the week.

Draco is waiting for her, fingers working steadily to knead the dough for their dinner. She hasn't been gone long, maybe half an hour, but in that time, he's changed the radio station from soft jazz to something more pop. He knows she'll bicker about the music when she's back, will pout and definitely win that battle— because if there's one thing Draco is weak for, it's her —but for now Draco enjoys the bubblegum boyband music that's playing.

Outside, the rain has grown stronger, and the wind howls, creating a low whistling noise that resonates around the kitchen.

The landline phone rings, and Draco's already halfway through teasing her about forgetting her keys and the umbrella— something along the lines that the only reason she doesn't lose her head is because it's permanently attached to her body —when he picks up the phone.

"I'll come out to get you, but you'll owe me a kiss." He's already gripping the umbrella by the handle.

"Uh, I'm sorry, is this the Malfoy residency?"

The grin falls off his face immediately. The voice on the other side is deep and gruff, muffled by the static and the rain. Draco doesn't recognize it.

"Who is this?"

There is no gut feeling, no intuition to tell him there might be something wrong. It doesn't sink in that this has to be about (Y/N) until the voice starts talking again.

The man introduces himself, but Draco forgets the name by the time he's done hearing it.

"Sir, there's been an accident. Your wife..."

It's like Draco's heart falls to the bottom of his stomach.

The umbrella drops to the floor, a loud thud resonating around the room.

He can't breathe.

The man keeps going, his voice getting increasingly shaky as he keeps on explaining the situation, and Draco catches only pieces of what he's saying.

The rain.

A crash.

Dead on impact.

He really can't breathe.

For a second there's nothing but silence in his mind, stillness, and then there's everything all at once. Draco goes from being unable to hear his own breathing to being hyperaware of his surroundings. He can hear the static of the radio behind him, the light buzzing of the electricity in the bulb above his heads, the sizzling of the sauce, the pain on his feet where the umbrella landed before rolling to the floor, the ticking of the old clock (Y/N) bought. He suddenly can't control his body, can't control how he backs away slowly, tugging at the phone's cord— is he moving slowly? He thinks he is, he can't tell, everything around him is distorted— can't help it when his knees weaken beneath him and his hands tremble.

He grips the counter to steady himself.

He wheezes, tries to bring some oxygen into his lungs.

This can't be happening. This cannot be happening.

He saw her less than forty minutes ago. She was going to the store to get cheese. What do you mean dead on impact? What do you mean she's gone. She can't be. She'll be walking through the door any minute now, soaked because she forgot her umbrella. She'll pout about the pop music and Draco will begrudgingly agree to playing more jazz and they'll dance around the kitchen as they wait for dinner to be ready. She's not dead. She cannot be dead. They had survived a war, she cannot be dead.

"I'm sorry, sir." The words are garbled, but somehow, despite his distress, Draco manages to make sense of them.

"I, uh—"

"There's an officer here who wishes to speak with you, sir."

There's shuffling. Draco closes his eyes, presses his forehead against the cool counter. Merlin, this cannot be happening. This has to be a nightmare; this can't be real. It doesn't feel real.

"Am I speaking with Mr. Malfoy."

Draco hates to be called that; it reminds his too much of his father. His voice is soft, and it breaks when he responds, "Yes."

The policeman must hear it because his tone becomes slightly gentler, but no less formal. "I'm sorry to ask this of you, sir, but we need you to identify the body."

The body. Not (Y/N). The body. Draco clenches his jaw hard enough for it to hurt.

He doesn't mean to do it, but he's struggling to tether himself to reality and the officer is awaiting a response, talking to him so softly it's making him dizzy, so Draco does what he knows how to do best; he slips the Malfoy mask on, places it tight enough that it won't fall down and then tightens it further to prevent any cracks.

The mask stays on longer than he intends it to. He wears it to sleep that night, wakes up with it in the morning. It accompanies him to the morgue, loosens a little around the edges when he's forced to make the identification, but stays on otherwise. It keeps him from feeling anything, from facing reality, from breaking down in front of complete strangers who are already looking at him with so much pity. It doesn't really slip off until the funeral, when Draco watches her be lowered into the ground.

She's gone.

Something within him snaps, breaks beyond repair. The mask shatters against the ground.

He cries for the first time that day and it feels as if he never stops crying afterwards.

ix. eight months and eighteen days after the accident

He's doing groceries when it happens. From the corner of his eye, he can see the shape of (Y/N), always lingering, present ever since the day Draco saw her outside of the dreams for the first time. It's eerie. Draco hasn't grown accustomed to it— to her? He doesn't think he ever will. It's one thing to see her in his memories, within his dreams, because he knows she isn't real. It becomes more difficult to discern reality from dreaming when he constantly sees her in real life. (He tries reaching out to touch her once, recently woken up and still a little sluggish with sleepiness. His hand meets nothing but air. Draco jerks his hand back, runs to the bathroom to be sick.)

A part of him, at the beginning, thought that having her around with him every moment of the day would lessen the heavy weight around his chest, evaporate the remains of grief, but this isn't her, just a ghost of his wife.

Draco's so focused on ignoring the hallucination— its blank, emotionless face, the eyes that follow him around —and trying to manage the raging headache he's had since he woke up, that it takes him a while to notice the tapping on his shoulder. It's only when it becomes insistent that he turns around.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but you're bleeding."

For a moment the words don't make sense. Then, Draco feels the sticky substance running down his cupid's bow. His fingers come back red when he reaches to touch it.

The woman, small and old, offers him a blue handkerchief with a kind smile, "Take care, kid. It's been oddly warm these days."

Draco knows the nosebleed isn't in any way related to the heat, but he nods and thanks her anyways.

She lets him keep the handkerchief, "It was my late husband's. I have a feeling you'll be needing it more than I will", and over the next couple of days Draco uses it more often than he would like to admit.

It only gets worse from there. Nausea, vomiting, body tremors.

Draco knows it's the potion, but he can't bring himself to stop. He must see her. He keeps on tipping his head back and chugging the misty liquid.

Most days he wakes up exhausted, the bags under his eyes no longer disguisable. He's irritable, he snaps at the smallest of things. Mrs. Bailey tells him to take some days off, the concern evident in her eyes. It just angers him. He's alright. More than alright. He gets to see his dead wife every night, he keeps her alive. He's fine.

But then he isn't because his body begins to slowly shut down. He starts feeling feverish, fog condenses his head. He lays in bed and time becomes a foreign concept. He's sweating, hot and cold at the same time, it's like he's boiling from the inside and can't escape it. He sees (Y/N), standing at the corner. Is this a dream? Everything sways around him, the world tilts. He can't talk, can't move. He falls unconscious. But not before reaching for the little glass vial and its addicting blue contents.

He blinks awake to the dream.

It's always the same. Garlic. Oregano. Jazz music in the radio. A glass of almost finished wine in his hand.

"Merlin, that smells so good."

He hugs her from behind, sways her to the beat of the song. She twists around in his arms.

She twists around in his arms?

"We need to talk."

It's her voice, Draco would recognize it anywhere, soft and velvety. But she never said those words. She couldn't have said those words. Draco has relieved this memory seventy-three times, he knows.

She steps away, takes his hand, and the scenery around them swiftly changes. The background becomes distorted, it melts down and reconstructs itself. It makes Draco dizzy, the sudden change from dimmed lights and rainy weather to a bright sunny day. They're at the beach near Sussex.

This has never happened before. This shouldn't be happening. Draco opens his mouth, tries to swallow down the bright panic flaring in his chest, and finds out he can speak. This isn't a memory anymore.

"How are you—? You shouldn't be—" He stops himself, looks around. The beach is just as he remembers it, the air is hot, but the breeze is cool. It smells like seaweed and fish. In his memory (Y/N) is smiling. She isn't smiling now, just studying him carefully. "You're dead."

Draco has never said those words out loud before. The pain in his chest, the one that hasn't settled since the accident, burns and then becomes lighter.

"I am," she confirms. She doesn't sound sad, it's almost as if she's just stating facts. The sky is blue and (Y/N) is dead.

When he remains frozen, mind still going haywire, so she takes him by the hand and tugs him along. They walk closer to the ocean. Her hand is warm against his.

"How is this happening?"

She looks back at him, offers a gentle smile, and Draco knows his wife well enough that he recognizes the look in her eyes. You already know. It all clicks in his head. He focuses on the water, realizes that the waves aren't moving as they should, notices that the image is slightly deformed and misshaped. His mind is creating all of his, everything around him is becoming blurry because he never walked close to the shore. (Y/N) figure remains sharp and clear because her image is safely stored in Draco's mind.

"You're not you," he whispers to himself.

She stops dead in her track, turns around to meet his gaze. There's a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, as if she knows something he doesn't.

"Aren't I?"

"This is all happening inside my head. It's a dream."

"That does not mean it's not real."

She sits on the ground, not caring about the sand staining her clothes, and it's such a (Y/N) thing to do that Draco's heartstrings tighten and a part of his mind can't believe it isn't her. She pats the ground and he sits beside her.

They remain quiet for some time. (Y/N) plays with the sand, picking it between her fingers before allowing the breeze to take it away. She gives him time to gather his thoughts, and there's so much Draco want to say. So much. But it's like the words are stuck at the back of his throat and he can't manage to spit them out.

She speaks first, keeps on picking up sand and letting it go.

"You're killing yourself," her tone is soft, but there's a certain harshness in her words. It isn't at all what Draco was expecting to hear.

"What?"

(Y/N) turns to meet his gaze, eyes firm, "You're drinking the potion every night, are you not? You're getting headaches, nausea, nosebleeds. You're seeing me outside the memories."

Draco could lie, but she would see right through him.

"I am."

She nods absentmindedly, like he's just confirming what she already knows. Her gaze leaves his face and sets on the horizon.

"You'll die." There's a slight tremor to her voice, the kind she used to get when she was a few words away from crying.

"Is that so bad?"

She snaps her head back to him, tears on the corner of his eyes. "Don't say that," and her words are tainted with a rigidness he isn't accustomed to.

Her tone should unsettle him, but Draco pushes, "I would get to be with you, wouldn't I?"

She shakes her head. "There's so much left for you to live, Draco. So much."

Draco is the one to look away now, he tries to reign in the anger. She doesn't understand because she's the one that left, she's not the one that has to deal with the ever-growing emptiness and sadness and grief. Draco is the one that stayed. He's the one that was left all alone to cope, to try to find ways to live without her. He's the one that feels her absence, every day with every breath.

"What's the point if you're not around to live it with me."

He looks back just in time to see her eyes soften around the edges. She looks sad now, apologetic.

(Y/N) reaches for his hand and Draco lets her take it.

"Then live it for the both of us. Live it for me."

Just like that Draco deflates, he focuses on the circles her thumb rubs against the back of his palm.

"I just miss you," he confesses, "so so much. You wouldn't understand."

Her grip tightens.

"I know."

"I just want to be with you."

"I know, I know." There's a heaviness in her features, a twinge of pain in the corner of her lips and between her brows. Draco, for a moment, wonders if he's wearing a matching expression, if they both carry the hollowness in their hearts. "I'm sorry I left you." She comes closer, cradles his face the same way Draco did when he suggested they run away all those years ago. He wants to tell her she doesn't need to apologize, that it isn't her fault, but her words soothe some sort of internal ache. "I'm sorry about all the things that could've been but won't ever be." His throat constricts. He thinks about all the things they promised each other (to grow old together, to start a family), doesn't notice the tears falling down his cheeks until she wipes them away. (Y/N) presses her forehead against him, whispers the words against his lips, "I'm so sorry, my love."

Draco shatters, grips her wrists to anchor himself. The sobs that leave his mouth are muffled, quiet, but he knows (Y/N) hears them by the way her hold on his face becomes firmer. She hums, a soft jazz song, the one that was playing the night she died, and lets him cry to his heart's content.

It isn't until he quiets down, sobs becoming hiccups, that she pulls away. She lets her eyes trail over his face, brushes her thumbs against his cheeks and pulls a strand of hair out of his face. Her eyes are sad as she mumbles, "Trapping yourself in our memories and living off the past isn't going to bring me back."

Draco knows. He knows. But he can't bear the idea of never seeing her again, of never holding her, of never hearing her voice.

"I need more time with you."

She smiles softly, "We got eight years of nothing but happiness, my love. That's much more than what many lovers get."

"A lifetime by your side wouldn't have been enough."

It's true. Draco could've lived a thousand lives with her, and it would've never been enough. His soul craved her with an intensity that was almost overwhelming. No amount of time would've been enough.

"I love you." He needs to say it, needs her to hear the words coming from his own lips. "I didn't get to say it that day, when you left, but I do. I love you so much."

"I know."

Draco blinks up at (Y/N), finds her already staring back. In that moment, there's nothing but her.

"Draco, baby, you could've never uttered those words to me again, and I would've known. I felt it in every touch and every look. It was all around us. I know you love me, and you know just how much I love you too."

And Draco does know. Love is raw and primal; it leaves an indelible mark one must carry forever. Love builds and it shatters, it heals and burns. Draco presses his forehead against her collarbone and sighs, people leave, and they die, but their love stays. He loves her, will always love her, and she loves him too, even in death.

The dream begins to melt, to fold into itself. The colors blend together. (Y/N) begins to pull away and Draco panics, grips her a little tight.

"Please stay with me."

There's desperation in his tone, anguish.

(Y/N) comes back close, softly presses her lips against his. "I'm always with you," she whispers as she back away. "Here," she taps right above his heart, the place where her name is branded on his skin, "and here," she presses her finger to his temple.

Everything disintegrates.

When he comes back to himself it's due to a sound. He tries to open his eyes, but they feel too heavy, so it takes him a while to gather enough strength to do so. His tongue is heavy on his mouth, dry. The sweat is making his clothes stick to his skin. Draco feels like he could throw up at any moment.

He thinks of (Y/N).

I'm always with you.

The sound persists in the background. At first it appears to come from far away, it's muted and dull, as if he's hearing it from under water, but it becomes clearer as the haze slowly disappears from his mind. It takes Draco some time to recognize it; someone is pounding on the door.

He would move to open it if he could regain control of his limbs.

It appears like his presence isn't even needed because after a thunderous bang— which Draco somehow recognizes as his door being broken down —the pounding stops. Draco should be worried, someone is inside his house, he can hear the footsteps approaching, but he can't bring himself to care.

I'm always with you.

Blaise walks into his room, eyes frantic and unfocused.

They settle on him and there's a flash of anger before it twists into something more worried, something closer to panic. He looks like he just stumbled across a corpse.

Blaise's eyes dart around the room and Draco can tell the moment he notices the small glass vials that he never bothered to clean up because Blaise's face tightens, "You idiot."

And he's upset, Draco knows he is, can hear it in his voice, but Blaise is still walking forward and kneeling by the side of his bed. He's upset, but his eyes hold on so much concern.

"What have you done?"

The words are whispered, Blaise presses the back of his hand to Draco's forehead, ever so gentle, and Draco can't help it, he catches a peek of (Y/N)'s ghost looming over Blaise's shoulder, smiling softly at him before softly shattering and disappearing, and the tears begin to fall. He's still a little out of it, a little feverish, still thinking of his dream.

I'm always with you.

Draco clenches his fists. He doesn't feel the nails digging into his skin, deeper and deeper, until Blaise places his hands over his own and softly coaxes them open, "It's okay. You're okay."

Blood flows freely down his palm. It doesn't even sting. Nothing can ache more than his heart.

Draco shakes his head. Nothing is okay, it hasn't been okay since the day she died.

Blaise sighs softly, "I know."

Draco doesn't know if he muttered the words or if his best friend can read his mind.

"I just miss her," it comes out watery and weak, but Draco doesn't even care. He's breaking, falling, shattering.

He sees the way Blaise swallows hard, closes his eyes and looks up to the ceiling, breathing hard. "I know you do, but this..." He gestures at the tiny glass vials that lay empty by the foot of his bed, before setting his eyes back on him. "Draco..."

"Don't." He begs, because he can feel the anger beginning to simmer, buried underneath the steam of illness and confusion, but Blaise has always been one to speak his mind, ruthlessly so, and so he presses on.

"You're hurting yourself."

You're killing yourself, her voice echoes in his brain. You'll die.

"Leave it alone."

"I can't," Blaise stresses, tightening his grip on Draco's wrist. The words don't surprise Draco, Blaise has always been a fixer, unable to let go once he figures out a problem and has effectively resolved it, but they do anger him. "For Salazar's sake. Liquid Dreams, Draco? Really? Have you've got any idea how harmful the potion can be if ingested on the daily."

He does know, he does, he's seen the effects, has felt them on his body. His limbs shiver, his heart is racing, his skin shuffles between being unbearably hot to freezing cold. He might've ignored the warning tag on every vial, but Draco knows. He just didn't care.

"I just want to see her."

I just want to be with you.

A lifetime by your side wouldn't have been enough.

I'm always with you.

He presses the back of his hand against his eyes, tries to mute the resonating voices in his head.

"No," Blaise responds, "You're trying to keep her alive." Draco's breath comes to a sudden halt, eyes opening and focusing on Blaise, fire burning beneath them. Blaise doesn't shy away, doesn't even flinch. He's always been bluntly honest. Draco has never hated that quality more than he does know. His final words come out soft, "You can't. She's gone."

You're dead.

I am.

He doesn't know if it's the fever or the potion, but his next words come out manic, rushed, erratic.

"She isn't! Not when I drink the vials. Not when I see her every night."

Blaise's gaze softens. There's pain in his eyes.

"You've got to let her go."

Trapping yourself in our memories and living off the past isn't going to bring me back.

"You don't understand, Blaise." Now he's shouting, feelings jumbling within his chest and words tumbling out his mouth. He's confused and scared and hurt and sad and angry, and it comes out in the way of a sharp tone that cuts like a knife, "You couldn't even begin to comprehend what I'm feeling, what my life has been like for the last months."

Blaise remains impassive, but his features harden. Draco catches the brief flare of annoyance in his eyes.

"My sister died in the war, Malfoy." His words come back with the same razor-sharp edge Draco used. "So did my father, in case you forgot."

Draco breathes heavily, guilt pools at the bottom of his stomach.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, and Blaise doesn't say anything back, but Draco knows he's forgiven by the way his friend's shoulders relax. For all his tough exterior, Blaise has never been able to hold onto anger. Draco wishes he could be like that.

They stay quiet for a while, time that feels like an eternity.

It's Blaise who breaks the silence. "I know it hurts, and I know you miss her, but you're keeping her hostage in your dreams and you're holding onto the pain."

Draco exhales shakily.

"That's not going to bring her back."

"I know," he whispers, tears slowly filling his eyes once more. Trapping yourself in our memories and living off the past isn't going to bring me back, he hears being mumbled by his ear. "Fuck, I know."

He looks up at Blaise and by the way his friend briefly looks away Draco knows he must look absolutely shattered.

"How do I let her go, Blaise, when it feels like my soul was ripped in half?"

Blaise swallows hard. There are tears by the corner of his eyes, too, "You let yourself hurt, you let yourself feel."

Live it for me.

I'm always with you.

"I'm sorry I left you alone, Draco. I thought you wanted to... I don't know, process privately. I'm sorry I wasn't here."

Draco shakes his head. "Don't be," he closes his eyes with a sigh, "When I felt myself slipping, I should've said something." But it's difficult to do so, to reach out, when you feel so alone and alienated, and Blaise must know, must understand, because when Draco opens his eyes, Blaise is also shaking his head.

"And I should've noticed before," he responds, and Draco knows he isn't just talking about the grief, but also about Draco's borderline addiction to the potion. "You are my best friend, after all."

They stare at each other for a split second before Blaise sighs and looks away, "We'll talk about it later. Let's just focus on getting your fever down."

Draco has known Blaise long enough to understand what goes unsaid. Don't worry, I'm here now, I've got you, you're going to be okay.

And Draco isn't okay, not even close, but this feels like a step in the right direction. He feels lighter. His heart aches, but it's manageable. For the first time in months, Draco doesn't feel the overwhelming itch to go back to his memories.

x. two years after the accident

For the longest time Draco thought he would die without her, and maybe a part of him does. But as he stands in front of her grave, a bouquet of heliotropes on his hand, he thinks that maybe that's okay. The last year has taught him how to let go of the hurt, let go of the part of him that isn't really him anymore, and instead hold onto her, onto their love.

It never stops hurting, there's always a lingering, dull pain in his heart, but Draco learns how to live with it. He thinks that's okay, too. The pain is a reminder that he loved and was loved. Love hurts because it's everlasting, because it never truly goes away. Grief is the price we pay for loving. That's okay, he reckons, it's a small price.

Draco presses his hand to the headstone, squats down to place the flowers on the floor, closes his eyes and allows himself to feel. Healing isn't linear, he's learned, and it's okay to sometimes feel a sorrow so deep it pierces and reopens the wound in his soul, as long as he can release the sadness and the pain, as long as he swims with it but doesn't allow himself to drown.

Having Blaise and Pansy around helps and Draco is more than unbelievably grateful for his support system. (For Blaise, who helps him through the days of withdrawal, who opens up his house to him, who helps him look for a grief counselor. For Pansy, who teaches him how to paint with oil, and how to pour his feelings into blank pieces of parchment instead of bottling them up.) He learns that he's not alone, never was. He learns how to lean on someone else when he needs help.

It takes time, but he slowly regains parts of him he thought had shatter beyond repair. He cooks pizza for his friends, he drives to work, he listens to slow jazz songs and thunderstorms without the urgent desire to break down. He wears his wedding band around his neck.

He heals. Slowly, but surely.

Draco learns that the memories he shared with her will always be there, for him to think back upon, but they are not meant for him to live within.

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tsukimefuku · 8 days

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forgiveness is a collective resource ✦ satoru gojo

summary: as you're telling gojo about your most recent fallout, he ends up telling you in return the last question geto posed him before leaving.

tags: jujutsu kaisen, f!reader, platonic! gojo x reader, implied higuruma x reader, fluff, angst, our beloved white haired, blue-eyed sorcerer receives some well deserved comfort.

wc: 900

notes, etc: i wrote this to the sound of i'm only human. it felt like a good fit. i wanted to write this one for so long, but never knew where i'd put it on the story. i'm happy to have found its place.

✦ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

I'm no prophet or Messiah ✦ You should go looking somewhere higher ✦ I'm only human, after all ✦ I'm only human, I do what I can ✦ Don't put the blame on me

"So, that's what happened," you concluded, taking another bite from your sandwich.

"Yeesh," was all Gojo mustered up to say, not being the best at comforting people.

You and Gojo were having a snack in the woods that surrounded Jujutsu High's HQ, and you had just told him about Hiromi's departure to Morioka.

"Having people leaving is shit," you noted, "especially when you care deeply about them. Feels like being left alone to fend off for yourself."

At that, he fell weirdly silent, and you wondered if maybe this would be the best moment to inquire about Geto. After a while, you had learned everything about their fallout — the death of Riko, how Geto had a sharp descent into madness, how he murdered an entire village and had been awarded the death penalty for that.

"The last thing Hiromi told me before he left was that he loved me," which was a twisted, painful little kindness, you thought. "What was the last thing Geto told you when he left?"

You noticed Gojo's demeanor changing a little, and his body becoming stiff. You gave him a few moments before he'd resume his talking.

After a sigh, he ensued.

"'Are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest, or are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo?'" He took a bite from his sweets, and continued to speak with a half-mouthful of sugar. "That was his final question to me before he left."

"What a stupid question."

"Huh?"

"What? You don't know the answer to that?"

He was silent.

You sighed. "You really think that low of yourself? Ugh. The latter, obviously."

The sorcerer was thoroughly surprised and somewhat dumbfounded, so he simply stayed silent in order to hear your observations, something that could be considered the highest form of respect Gojo Satoru was able to display for someone.

You shook your head before proceeding.

"First of all, Geto didn't know what he was talking about, because he wasn't seeing you, only a distorted reflection of his own resentment towards you for supposedly leaving him alone to spiral down madness on his own. Stop blaming yourself. You did what you could, all of you did."

You involuntarily sighed, trying to push the heaviness away from your heart.

"We sorcerers really need to put our God complex aside and learn to forgive ourselves."

Then, you took a pause to sip on your soda, proceeding.

"I blamed myself for years, just to have it all blow up in my face a decade later. Hiromi left a good new life he had built for himself to chase ghosts from the past," and Nanami, arguably the best one of us all, made a terrible decision that rendered him miserable, you thought, "all because of this wicked little thing called guilt. Guilt weighs us down, tethers us to the past and prevents us from moving forward. So here it is: I forgive you. Have my forgiveness."

"Your forgiveness? For what?" Gojo asked, slightly confused.

"For whatever you want to use it for. Use it to forgive yourself, since you couldn't find it in you for your own benefit. Have absolution. Forgiveness is a collective resource, and we can all forgive each other for our shortcomings. We're all human, after all."

For the very first time ever, you saw Gojo's expression softening underneath his blindfold, and you wondered if the one looking back at you right now was the teenager that failed Riko Amanai and Suguru Geto so many years ago.

The real Satoru Gojo, underneath all the silly cockiness.

"And just to finish answering the question Geto posed, that's precisely why you're the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo, and not the other way around. It was from your failure that the strongest could emerge, and your fallibility stems from you and your humanity."

You now knew how those days went, especially Toji's plan of wearing Gojo down to strike, and the way Gojo told you mindlessly about the first time he let his infinity turned on for days on end.

"You tired yourself in Amanai's benefit, and it put you in a vulnerable position, something only Satoru Gojo, and not the abstract concept of 'the strongest', would ever do. That's why that question is fucking stupid and offensive. You're more than the six eyes and infinity, and more than the people you couldn't save. Let it go," you concluded, taking another sip from your soda.

You were both silent for a moment, and you briefly wondered if you hadn't stepped over a boundary.

"Please, get up" he solicited, an indecipherable voice and expression to his blindfold covered face, getting up from the ground himself.

"Oh, okay," you answered, slightly surprised at the unexpected request.

In a second, Gojo leaned down his huge frame and embraced you, remaining still like that for a minute as you hugged him back, having your chin hooked above his shoulder.

At this moment, even if he was a giant in comparison to you, he seemed and felt remarkably small.

"Thank you," he said, his voice but a whisper behind your head.

You smiled, tightening your grip around his back, happy you could finally reach him and keep him true company.

"No problem, pretty boy. You saved my ass so many times. Thought I'd try to return the favor, which you should know is not something easy to do, since you're the strongest," you said with a laugh, "not all kikufuku in the world would pay off that debt."

He huffed a brief chuckle, letting go of you, feeling he might not be so alone anymore.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #jjk satoru #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen gojo

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xenosaurus · 11 months

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I have a page for my worldbuilding projects that’s a huge WIP, but in the mean time, here’s a list of the ones I can remember off the top of my head! I’ve done my best to split these by genre, although some obviously fit in multiple categories. You can also browse through my "original stuff" tag for things that haven't made it as far as a concrete project, if you can tolerate the mess.

UPDATE: Tumblr changed their tag system, so I had to fix the links. They SHOULD be working, but chronological links don’t cooperate with mobile, so I’ve made them general links. Please add /chrono to the url if you can, a few of these are very weird out of order (looking at you, Boar’s Blood).

Urban Fantasy

Witchmouth General; comedy about a hospital in a city that is mostly monsters and aliens

Freedom Over Gold; a comedy-drama about a trio of homunculi killing their masters

Immortality and Tax Fraud; a comedy about gods who possess people and the hosts that are still resisting them (slightly NSFW)

Mundane Motherhood; a slice of life/recovery story about a woman who adopts a kid who was being raised to fight demons

The Empty City; a drama about a limbo world entered in dreams by people who compete for “days”, which give them another day of life in the real world

The Mortal Forge; an adventure story about a group of cursed people putting together an expedition to find a legendary cure

Tethered; a slice of life story in a setting where everyone has a familiar, starring two teenagers who are “tethering” their familiars, allowing them to become more physical and sentient

Fallen Angels in YOUR Area!; a comedy about a group of angels who are banished to earth for gaining too much individuality

Arlan Kingslayer; a comedy about classic high fantasy book characters being brought to the real world and not wanting to leave

High Fantasy

Boar’s Blood; an adventure story about a magical society built on the grave of an undead dragon that is rapidly falling apart (NSFW)

The Phoenix Bride; an adventure story/romance about a woman exploring an ever-expanding magical tower to confess her feelings to the woman who created it

God Hunters; technically closer to magical steampunk, an all-women drama about monster hunters (NSFW)

Scales and Bonedust; in a setting where some humans live in dwellings draped over the backs of dragons, a man and a dragonling try to find their way home after their whole community is killed

Rabbitheart; a fairy tale of sorts about a young jester (and would-be sorceress) trying to reclaim her familiar to earn a princess' hand in marriage, with a large section of backstory about the setting's version of Arthurian lore

The Mayfly; a dark fantasy about a mortal half-elf prince learning the truth of elven immortality

Whalefall; merfolk dark fantasy about a "bloodsalt knight" (a soldier who bites themselves to draw attacking predators to the blood and away from their school) who is separated from her people

Mark the End; trope manipulation on 'everyone grows up and has babies' endings where the children are the reborn god-monsters their guardians fought as teenagers. heavy on monster lore and character drama

Vampire Prince Walter; a romantic comedy about childhood sweethearts (who have since become a vampire and a werewolf) being arranged to marry each other... as long as their fathers don't find out they like each other too much to spy on the other.

Science Fiction

New Apocalyptia; a comedy about a world where all movie apocalypses happened at once (slightly NSFW)

Salt Water; an adventure story about a group trying to reach the bottom of their world’s incredibly deadly oceans, also mermaids and surfing as a death sport

Peppermint Circuits; a gay love story set in a world where everyone has a chip in their brain to influence their behavior (slightly NSFW)

Spycaller; a murder mystery about humans who interact with the intergalactic community from within mech suits

Superheroes

Superfish; a traditional coming of age superhero story about an LGBT group for college-aged sidekicks

Isaac is Okay; a very gentle story about a timetraveling superhero that traps himself in the past to raise his younger self away from their abusive father

Villain Risk; a superhero drama about an illegal hero team being arrested, told after the fact by a social worker, a kid in juvenile detention, and a shapeshifter who killed a cop and stole his life

Fate and Switch; a soulmate au fakeout about psychically linked superheroes who have been brainwashed, and their partners’ attempts to find them

Tooth and Nail; a superhero/kaiju mashup about bioengineered superheroes fighting monsters, and the protagonist’s attempts to protect his new apprentice from the horrors of their work

You Can Keep the Mask On; a superhero story intended to be told through sexual encounters between characters, obviously (very NSFW)

Overpowered; a comedy about a city's extremely, well, overpowered supervillains

Abelsons; a superhero story focusing on the "support" members, such as the people who make costumes and the medics

Bonus Individual Posts

that one about the destiny orphanage that one about the silkworm aliens

#original stuff #finally an updated pinned post!

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noelwho · 8 months

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Ultimate Chronological Order Imodna Playlist!!!

Hello! I feel like I have to introduce myself ‘cause I’m barely on Tumblr. I’m still learning how to use it, I posted a couple of fanarts and they went really well, so I want to try and make myself a spot in here. My name is Noel (they/them) and I’m a big fan of Critical Role. I started watching a few months ago, with Exandria Unlimited. Once I was done I went ahead and started Campaign 3. I’m currently on episode 49 (I know, I have a lot ahead yet). I also watched the first season of Candela Obscura and a couple of One-Shots.

Today I’m here to talk about the Lesbian Southern Gothic Witches. Earlier this week I started to obsess over a playlist. An Imodna playlist, to be more specific. It started with me listening to one I found on spotify (I will credit below because it’s been a huge inspiration for this project) and I got the urge to make my own. At the beginning it was something chill, something normal…until it was not. Over the course of the last 3 days I haven’t thought about or listened to anything else. I got the idea of making the playlist in chronological order and I started to take it very seriously. I divided their history in 10 different chapters and assigned each song to the correct time period. At first it was just gonna be into chapters, but then I started to put them in order inside the chapters too, and it became very personal. For real, this playlist has been the one and only thing I wanted to talk about for days. Last night I finally finished it. I’ve played it for run tests several times and I think it’s finally ready to see the light (kinda feels like the project of my life even though I only spent a few days working on it).

After all this brainrot it didn’t feel right to just tweet a link to the playlist, I wanted the world to know everything that went through my head in the process of making this. I also don’t have many people around who care about Critical Role, and I thought it was a good opportunity to connect with the fandom. So all of this took me here, to tumblr. All of a sudden it became very clear that this was the perfect place to set my baby free.

There’s some things I wanna make clear before you start reading, the first being the classic: english is not my first language. Sounds like a joke at this point but for real, it’s very likely that this thing is full of grammatical mistakes and I want to apologize in advance (specially about the in/on/at situation, I’ve been having lots of trouble with those for some reason) This is also the first time I do something like this so it may not be perfect. The second thing is that this will obviously be filled with spoilers. In fact I actually haven’t even got to The Scene, I saw it around on Tumblr and Twitter (impossible to avoid that spoiler, but I don’t really care). I’m aware that there’s a lot of Imodna moments that I haven’t seen yet, but I couldn't wait to start this playlist. I don’t know if the episodes I have left to watch will translate into new chapters or into new songs for the chapters I already have but either way, I will keep this post and the playlist updated.

With that being said, welcome to this ride through an unhinged mind. Fasten your seatbelts and enjoy!

The tether scene is one of my favorite ones. I love that metaphor with a passion. That’s why I chose this name for the playlist. With the photo I wanted to make an allusion to the red thread myth given that Laudna herself carries around a spool of red string. I even edited the picture so the hands on the right are slightly gray like Laudna’s.

There’s not just one specific vibe to this playlist, but I find it to be a very calming one, with the exception of some specific moments that we will talk about later. I tried to avoid strong and distracting beats so I could keep it a little ethereal. Lots of acoustic guitar (which I love). I’m not going to talk about every single song because some of them have pretty obvious meanings. Usually the songs aren't a 100% match, but they do have a part to it that speaks to me and to the story on a certain level.

× Imogen and Laudna’s separate lifes ×

At the beginning of the journey that is this playlist, I wanted to introduce the characters. Intertwining their songs, we get to know Imogen and Laudna’s pasts, before they have each other to face the terrors of being witches in a world that doesn’t quite understand them.

Delilah - Florence + The Machine (Laudna)

I sometimes wonder if Marisha has ever listened to this song, because oh my fucking god. I wanted to start the playlist with Abbey, I didn’t because with the intertwining I couldn’t make it fit, but this one is a very good start as well. This song shows perfectly how it must have been being brought back by Delilah and having that power all of a sudden.

Abbey - Mitski (Imogen)

Matilda - Harry Styles (Laudna)

Imogen - Nick Mulvey (Imogen)

Laudna's lullaby - Ginny Di (Laudna)

Time comes in roses - Bess Atwell (Imogen)

The Tradition - Halsey (Laudna)

Burn it down - Daughter (Imogen)

There’s several songs from this album on this playlist. It couldn’t fit better. It reflects perfectly the moment Imogen started to develop her powers. It even refers directly to the way she parts ways with her town (which doesn’t happen for a few chapters but still I felt this one belonged here). Her fear of being a disappointment, her father becoming absent, the feeling of being cursed. It’s all here.

The hanging tree - The hunger games (Laudna)

Still I wait - Anna Leone (Both)

Even with everything they had to go through, they both still wait and cling to hope.

× Imogen and Laudna meet ×

Finally, their paths cross. They experience the feeling of warmth for the first time in a long time. They both feel the need to keep the other one close and begin to appreciate the little things in life, learning how to be taken care of. Goodbye loneliness.

Season of the Witch - Lana Del Rey

I'd like to walk around in your mind - Vashti Bunyan

How important is this song knowing what Imogen can do…

Comfortable Silence - Bella Porter

Without you without them - Boygenius

A hole in the earth - Daughter

That Moon Song - Gregory Alan Isakov

Love brought weight - Old Sea Brigade

That distant shore - Steven Universe

Sick of losing soulmates - Natalie Dawn

I Hear a Symphony - Cody Fry

Sidelines - Phoebe Bridgers

The bug collector - Haley Heyderickx

Sometimes I feel that it’s always Laudna taking care of Imogen, as if she didn't have anything on her own plate. It can't be easy to live with a voice in your head and paranoia. This song shows how Imogen is there to hold Laudna too when it becomes too much.

Look up - Joy Oladokun

If the last one was an Imogen’s POV, this one is totally a Laudna’s POV. Her and her silly little pep talks. “You’re so capable”.

Daylight - Taylor Swift

I love the idea of them learning that life can be good if you find someone to share it with. This song encapsulates that perfectly.

Spell - Dora Jar

I wanted this one to be the last one of the chapter because it introduces the idea of leaving together.

× Imogen and Laudna run away together ×

“Would you run away with me?” They learn what it’s like to have a home that’s not a place, but something entirely new. The past still follows but they’re no longer crushed by it, because they don’t have to sustain it on their own.

Departure - Daughter

Second child, restless child - The Oh Hellos

Just the two of us - Grover Washington, Jr.

I really like to imagine Imodna slice of life scenes when I listen to this song.

Dandelion Wine - Gregory Alan Isakov

Homesick - Dwara, Khotton Palm

Graceland Too - Phoebe Bridgers

When I realized how much of a Laudna's POV this song is, I almost cried.

Telepath - Manchester Orchestra

I really really like Manchester Orchestra, it's one of my favorite bands. I never let go of the chance of spreading them around, and this one is the best song they have. Laudna's POV for sure.

everything i wanted - Billie Eilish

With songs like this one and Intertwined, I wanted to introduce the idea that even though they're definitely better off now that they left the town, that doesn't instantly solve all of their problems. As I said before, the past follows, but they're no longer alone with it.

Savior Complex - Phoebe Bridgers

Intertwined - Dodie

Nothing else matters - Phoebe Bridgers

As long as they're together, nothing else matters.

× You lied ×

Even though I only have a few songs for this precise moment of the story, I thought that it was very important to include their first fight. The gem is broken and Imogen feels betrayed. Laudna is left abandoned and thinks she deserves to be punished for Delilah’s wrongs. We explore jealousy for the first time.

Witches - Daughter

The silence at the end of this instrumental song represents the loneliness that Laudna felt when Imogen left her alone after her incident with Delilah

Landfill - Daughter

There are two possible ways of reading into this one. This is in my opinion a Laudna's POV. She could either be talking to Imogen, expressing her deep rooted desire for a punishment for what she’s done; or to Delilah, alluding to the attachment she has to her own powers (that at least as far as she knows are there because of Briarwood) opposed to the hatred she feels for her and for herself for wanting those powers (this is a theme that they explore later on future chapters)

Are you okay? - Winnetka Bowling League

Afterglow - Taylor Swift

The archer - Taylor Swift

× Laudna’s death ×

Otohan Thull relentlessly kills three members of Bells Hells. A coin is flipped and Laudna is gone, again. What awaits beyond the afterlife? Perhaps a little girl, a monster and a tree.

DVD menu - Phoebe Bridgers

If death’s not exactly DVD menu by Phoebe Bridgers, then someone tell me what’s like because I can’t imagine otherwise. I freaking love how this song connects with Daffodil.

Daffodil - Florence + The Machine

Death with dignity - Sufjan Stevens

Bells in Santa Fe - Halsey

I like to imagine that Laudna didn't appear in Nightmarish Whitestone immediately. Up until this point, she's in a limbo, accepting her own death. Bells in Santa Fe marks the moment she sets foot in that Upside-down kind of world. The constant repetition of “All of this is temporary” is like a mantra for her, the only hope she has of getting through it with her sanity intact is believing that this will also end and she will finally find peace.

Willow Tree March - The paper kiss

Hard times - Ethel Cain

Tether me - Galleaux

With this song and the next one, I wanted to express desperation. We don't get to know in the series how she feels throughout all of this, but I can only imagine how terrifying it must have been. There's a point where anyone would have started begging for help.

Matilda - alt-J

× Imogen’s grief ×

“Is she your favorite?”. Imogen feels deeply guilty for what happened. The possibility of bringing Laudna back is the only thing that’s keeping her from losing it completely. All the regrets, all the words she wishes she said before, all the times she didn’t approached her when she wanted to, come afloat. Grief, disassociation and sorrow.

Words - Storefront Church, Phoebe Bridgers

This song is meant to represent the exact moment of Imogen floating and losing control, with Otohan in her head pushing her to let go.

Goner - Twenty One Pilots

No other song in existence can express better the moment Imogen realize Laudna's gone for good.

Lanterns lit - Son Lux

True Faith - Ashley Johnson

Hurt for me - SYML

Carry you - Novo Amor

My love - Florence + The Machine

Lucky for you - Novo Amor, Gia Margaret

Killer + the sound - Phoebe Bridgers, Noah Gundersen

Should have known better - Sufjan Stevens

Ya'aburnee - Halsey

Show you a body - Haley Heyderickx

Imogen (even Laura) loses hope for a moment during the ritual they do for bringing Laudna back. The end of this song summarize this repeating a lyric over and over (you can clearly see through this playlist how much I love repetition).

× Back together ×

After Bells Hells confront Delilah at the Upside-down-Whitestone of Laudna’s nightmares, Pike manages to bring her back to life. Imogen and her are back hand by hand, and nothing can ever tear them apart again. Here’s where I think something awakes inside them, but they are far from realizing it.

I am the Antichrist to you - Kishi Bashi

Like an angel “fallen from the sky with grace”, Laudna’s back on Imogen’s arms.

Darling - Halsey

This love (Taylor's Version) - Taylor Swift

Now that you're home - Manchester Orchestra

Lose you again - Manchester Orchestra

Halloween - Phoebe Bridgers

But not kiss - Fayer Webster

Like I said, something changes after this. What they’ve been through is not nothing. This song is here to show that something is born deep inside them, on their subconscious far from their reach yet

× Back to Gelvaan ×

Same as with the “You lied” chapter, I felt that this one was important even though I just have one song for it. It just matches perfectly. Imogen and Laudna visit Imogen’s hometown and the place where they met, searching for answers. Old wounds, some closure and an emotionally absent father.

My tears ricochet - Taylor Swift

× Tethered ×

In this chapter the platonic bond is peaking. It takes place right before The Unraveling, giving in to the “Can I kiss you?” phase and becoming romantic. They’ve been through hell and back just to stay together. This is my personal favorite bit of the playlist, everything is extremely intense but not yet explicit.

Tethered - Sleeping at last

I Will - Mitski

Anchor - Alli X

Don't let them see you cry - Manchester Orchestra

Crosses - José González

Quietly - Manchester Orchestra

Francesca - Hozier

Moon song - Phoebe Bridgers

Capital Karma - Manchester Orchestra

Everywhere, everything - Noah Kahan

In a week - Hozier

Monster - King Princess

j's lullaby (darlin' i'd wait for you) - Delaney Bailey

I will follow you into the dark - Miya Folick

I wouldn't ask you - Clairo

× Can I kiss you? ×

Finally, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. The beggining of something new, the next and most logical step of this journey. The platonic becomes romantic and they get to truly explore the feelings they always had, and some novel ones. This is the moment I know less about, but I’ve used my imagination and my own headcanons.

Can I - Genevieve Stokes

I debated a lot whether to put this one at the end of the last chapter or the beginning of this one because I don't know how relevant Laudna's death is up to this point, and there's a huge reference to this in this song. I know for a fact that the Delilah’s plot is not over and things will change, but I couldn't resist the urge to put it in here, given the name of the song and its obvious connection to the chapter.

We'll never have sex - Leith Ross

Wading in Waist-high Water - Fleet Foxes

This is the last time - The National

All my ghosts - Lizzy McAlpine

Prière pour la nuit - Barbara Pravi, November Ultra

Chewing Cotton Wool - The Japanese House

Bandages - Rachel Bobbitt

This is it, this is The Ultimate Chronological Order Imodna Playlist. I don't know if I'm the first one doing this, probably not, I don't know if this has any value to anyone beyond myself, but I had a hell of a lot of fun. If only one person were to read this till the end I would be more than satisfied.

I’ll link here the playlist that started all of this. Massive respect for this person whoever it is, I took lots of the songs from here

Infinite thanks to anyone who gets here or saves my playlist, feel free to respond with any song that you think adds to the story!! Something tells me this isn't the end of my Imodna brainrot so,,,, more things could be on their way (a fanfic, perhaps?).

No idea how to end this so… long live Lesbian Southern Gothic Witches!!!

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appalamutte · 2 months

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Writing Patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Thank you so much to @doggernaut for tagging me!! This was definitely eye-opening, to say the least lol.

seeds to supper:

You're sixteen, moseying through your local bookstore when you come across it.

number thirteen:

Haus Bylaw Number Thirteen: Fuck the Lax Team.

hey, sweetpea:

Hey, Sweetpea.

with all of yesterday inside of me:

When Jack opens his eyes, they're standing in a field.

you with a suitcase:

Eric knew this day would come.

tether:

Sometimes Jack feels like he's outside his own body.

mr. bittle:

Mornings have always been Jack's favorite.

the many homes of mine:

It's been two years since Eric's been back to Madison.

always so forgetful:

Reiner has this recurring dream.

within the void:

Marco knew he was going to die.

And since I've only posted eleven fics total, I'm throwing the eleventh (first? chronologically speaking?) fic in too--

gravity in my orbit:

They lived in a small village due west of the canal, a half-day ride from Wall Rose, where trees climbed high above them and deer flocked through the billowing grass.

I assume we can all see the pattern here...haha. What can I say, I'm a sucker for short and simple openings, but I never realized it was to this extent. I do think it's interesting that my very first fic's first line is a long-winded establishing of a setting, and that my most recently posted fic is somewhat similar, while everything else is 10 words at MOST. But yeah, across two fandoms, two years, and 26k+ words, I seem to prefer shorter :)

Tagging: not sure who's already been tagged or not, but @thoughtsofthegirlwiththecurl, @vitaliskravtsov, @a-very-gay-disaster, and anyone else who wants to play!!

#this was fun!!#tag game #omgcp #fic rec #<- shamelessly

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metamorphosisff · 11 months

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|Interlude| II. FaceTime

[Author’s note: Interludes are not in chronological order as they are scenes that were deleted from chapters.]

Call Ms. Lena

The alert popped across the top of my phone screen in the midst of me watching a Tik Tok that explained Avengers: End Game that Xavier sent. Sighing, I finished the video but not nearly as into it as before. My thoughts were transformed by having to fulfill my one true duty as a sibling. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Ms. Lena, she counted as one of the people I loved but it was a love I could only maintain from afar. When I got too close, the love we shared hurt from the past that still tethered us together. Even at my big age I felt like a burden to her and Lonso. Something on a to-do list much like keeping in contact with them was for me but what choice did I have? They were the only remnants of my family that I had left. Closing out of the app, I found her name in my contacts, and pressed the Factime icon.

As prompt as ever, she answered on the second ring. Her mahogany smile filled the screen inciting my own. Ms. Lena was the epitome of ‘Black Don’t Crack’, with regal cheek bones, a small pointed nose, arched brows and full lips, she commanded attention. It was easy to see why she and my father had fallen for each other, no matter how messy it was for them to do so while he had been engaged to my mother. I didn’t hold my father’s transgressions against her though.

“My other baby decided to finally give me a call,” she beamed, excitedly.

“I’m sorry, my current schedule leaves a lot to be desired,” I chuckled, even though we both knew I was only good for a call per quarter, warehouse job or not. “But I had to call because it’s your birthday and I wanted to wish you happiness to your face.”

I truly meant that. There was a time in my teens when I resented Lena for grabbing Lonso and leaving me to deal with the aftermath of my parents but as I grew older I understood there wasn’t much for her to do. Legally anyway, my grandmother had more rights over my custody and Lena didn’t want to stay behind to fight for me with a new life waiting for her in Virginia. I would have left too. She made the right choice for her family. I just wished I could have been a part of it.

Her face lit up as she pressed her free hand to her chest, “Thanks MiMi, that means a lot to me.”

I almost physically cringe at the nickname my parents used to call me but restrain myself in time. The muscles in my cheeks work overtime to retain my smile. “Any plans for today? I know the party is this weekend but I hope you’re taking some time for yourself.”

“I took the whole week off. Wasn’t about to let them folks at the office stress me out during my celebration time,” she cracked, as she propped the phone against something, allowing me to see the rich burnt Sienna sundress she wore. “Speaking of my party, we were hoping to see you. I know Lonso is a little disappointed.”

My eyes rolled then, leave it to him to complain about my absence when my presence was barely wanted by him.

“Now I know you two have been more like oil and water lately but he does miss you. That I’ve heard him say verbatim,” she added.

“Then maybe he should lead with that instead of being a judgmental prick,” I said.

“He does come on...strong, get’s that from me and the tactless part from y’alls daddy,” she said, causing me to snort.

Our father used to always say the first thing that came to his mind whether it was proper or not. His candid nature is what gave me my non-bullshit attitude. I hated when people beat around the bush. I preferred honesty. However, I had no tolerance for brutal honesty. There was always a way to be straightforward without making someone want to punch you in the face.

“That he does,” I agreed. “I will be there for Thanksgiving promise. The whole week according to the flight information he sent. Right now I’m working on a few things and can’t get away. I’m sorry it can’t be sooner.”

The work I was putting in on myself took precedent over everything and well...almost everyone. I was in the middle of a shift that couldn’t be threatened by examining things I was not ready to face. Lonso thought all my problems could be fixed with a military career and change of address. Truth was, my biggest problem stared at me in the mirror every morning. My reflection had to be something I could stomach before I could start proving my worth to anyone else.

Nodding her head in understanding, “I understand baby, I do, I just miss you that’s all. Looking forward to being able to hug on you and really see how your doing with my own eyes.”

I chuckled nervously as I said, “You’re looking at me right now.”

“No, I’m looking at your defense mechanism. Something I know can be lowered with a scoop of my peach cobbler,” she said with a conspiratorial wink.

At that we both laughed knowing how I used to bug her every holiday season for her signature dessert. I know Lena means well, that her love could probably pave the cracks in my heart if I let it but I needed to be the one to heal me. That way if it broke again I would know how to fix it.

“I miss you too.”

#metamorphasisff #slow burn romance #black romance #Black Fiction #zendaya x mjb

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bearholdingashark · 6 months

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WIP Tag Game

Tagged by @midwinterspringwrites (Thank you! <3)

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

And yeah....I know I have a problem (I didn't think the list would be this long though)

Darklina Phantom of the Opera (partially posted)

Darklina "monster in the closet" fae Sasha meet cute

Darklina modern grishaverse sex pollen fic

Darklina The House AU The Little Palace kinktober '23 (partially posted)

Darklina ep 5 au light bondage/edging to get answers

Darklina stylist Sasha actress Alina

Darklina ex FIL

Darklina baby trapping exes

Enola/Tewkesbury smutty dance lesson canon divergence

Enola/Tewkesbury/Sarah/William celebration

Darklina season 2 fix it double agent!Alina Brand New Heretic (partially posted)

Darklina first time roleplay

Darklina high school sweethearts second chance (when we were young modern au) (partially posted)

DITW Alina instead of Annika Darklina tether au

Darklina canonverse 13 Going On 30 au

Let Me Love The Lonely other Alina Darklina follow up

Darklina witch hunt

Darklina And They Were Roommates modern au

demon!Allina/witch!Sasha shared custody of Ivan Darklina

Darklina professor/single dad modern au

Ludarklina soulmates

Ludarklina dreams

Darklina No Notion first time regency marriage of convenience

Darkzoyalina voyeurism prompt

in public scream prompt Darklina invisibility

Darklina ceilings soulmates au

Darklina Jurassic Park/World Ellie/Alan AU

Darklina Harper's Island AU

Happy Blended Families Darklina Ulla/Luda

Anastas/Aleksander/Luda Birthday suprise

Lusander summoning each other's powers fix it

Darklina Beauty and the Beast pregnant Alina au

Darklina Old West au sheriff!Sasha/papa!Alina

Luda resurrection Shadow and Bone eventual Ludarklina (partially possible)

Darklina Father's Day card

Darklina house husband/mob boss washing the blood off

Prefold Darklina feat time travel (partially posted)

Darklina can't lie to soulmate (partially posted)

Darklina Addams Family crossover meeting the family

Darklina fake dating holidays omegaverse

Darklina baby girl Sasha ddlg 5+1 acceptance

Darklina circus au

Darklina demon possesion

Darklina baby girl Sasha breeding kink

AAA afterlife Darklina

Darklina puppy siblings modern au

Ludarklina Star Trek TNG wedding

Baghra visions lotr inspired

Darklina homemade Christmas gifts

Darklina ghost!Sasha Halloween fic

Darklina switchcraft au (Twitter 'stay' prompt)

Darklina ddlg marriage of convenience

Alternate Ravka Darklina

Spiritfarer Darklina au

Darklina post Malarkling

Baghra Mrs. Bennet Parenting Darklina

Tattoo Artist Alina non chronological multipchapter follow up Darklina

Darklina Rich Groom Poor Groom follow up

Darklina Pirate Song AU

Hallmark Darklina Royal Playground Marriage au

Vera Matilda AU Darklina

Titan AE Darklina

Mob boss/police chief prequel Darklina

Darklina DMs modern au (partially posted)

Darklina mob boss/police chief going public

Darklina dimension travel sequel (partially posted)

Letters to my Sun Summoner Darklina fic

While You Were Sleeping Darklina angst

Married At First Sight Darklina

Port Gamble Darklina fic I'm not tagging 70 people, so I'll tag @strangelock221b, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @fiora-miriel, @ditaliaa, @sternfleck, @ammarantas, @nightquills, @holy-muffins, @goatsandgangsters, @wingardium-fic (but only if you want to!!) and anyone else who wants to do it!

#it's the adhd #Jen writes #sometimes #and this doesn't include the WIP ideas that don't have a doc created yet #Darklina #and a couple other ships #long post

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ei-banana · 2 years

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Fic master post (ongoing)

I’ve been meaning to make one of these for a while so that my fics are easier to find! The list is chronological from most recent to oldest, and separated by fandom.

———

Little Goody Two Shoes

lie with my brittle bones

freya x lebkuchen | sfw | 4k | one shot

Freya couldn’t remember a thing she’d said after that—could only remember the warmth in her chest, though the cold cut to the bone. She stared agog from beneath her fur-lined cowl, breathless even as Elise pivoted for another’s distant beckon. Even as the snow continued its heavenly fall.

Buried and trembling, her father at last found her, mittened palm pressed to her chittering lips. By the crash and tumble of brimful chance, Freya was smitten.

She had fallen in love.

Or, Freya lets go in time.

———

Baldur’s Gate 3

sing to me that motley gospel

shadowheart x tav | nsfw | 3.7k words | one shot

And fear did not sit idle. It grew hungered with neglect, burrowing out of its prison to feast upon her deeper marrow. A weed left sowed now ensnared her in vines too knotted to unravel, though Tav had remarkably defied those odds.

Or, Shadowheart had always been afraid of the dark, in truth.

in the shadow of the evening trees

shadowheart x tav | nsfw | 3.8k words | one shot

Most nights, Shadowheart dreamed of her mother’s eyes. Olive like her own, they tracked her steadily as she worked, sundering her parents to bloody heaps.

Or, Shadowheart remembers, she grieves, and Tav remains a loving tether throughout.

a call to flame

shadowlach | nsfw | 2.8k | one shot

By the light of the moon Shadowheart stood, refulgent at the verge of a babbling brook. Shirtless, wreathed in silver, thin fingers working through the twine of her braid—she was a siren of the dark and unseen. Her hair fluttered down past the small of her back, long and silky like skeins of pure starlight.

“Care to join me?”

Or, Karlach is touch starved and Shadowheart is depressed. They kiss about it.

———

Octopath Traveler II

absolve me before the dawn

castthrone | nsfw | 3.4k words | one shot

The bedside casement window let in faded moonlight, the lump atop her sheets awash silver and gray. Castti dropped the bucket by the bureau, toeing off her boots to search for a nearby chamberstick, bath long forgotten.

“Throné?” She had expected the other woman to turn up, though not quite so late. This thing between them— an understanding born of their mutual want for closeness, the looming shadow of loss at their backs— left them silently desperate, seeking out the other when the coming dawn posed too great a threat.

Or, both their pasts haunt them, but here, while the world sleeps, they have each other.

———

Fire Emblem Engage

among the flowers, something more

aleivy | mild nsfw | 4k words | one shot

“Have you been to Lookout Ridge yet?”

“I don’t suppose I have.”

Alear was already walking, dancing her fingers through the air as if to twine them in the flossy clouds. “You have to see the Somniel from higher up… the night comes alive,” she said quietly, voice gauzy with wonder. It struck Ivy then, just how new this world was to Alear too.

Or, their relationship blooms, and so too the flowers.

irascible daze

aleivy | nsfw | 5k words | one shot

In her dozing mind’s eye, Alear held her close, pressing her into the sheets until the warmth of their cloister had Ivy sweating, panting, grappling for more…

The luring, amorous phantasms had been haunting her as of late, though she didn’t wish to impede Alear’s delve into erudition with her crazed want for closeness. Work posed the most vexing barrier; Alear hadn’t truly touched her in nearly a fortnight.

Or, Ivy wakes up alone and agitated, tearing through the castle just to find her salvation.

what had always been

aleivy | sfw | 5.9k words | one shot

Ivy squared her jaw, curling her numb fingers into fists. She hated that dress, she hated how the Lords and Ladies leered at her. She was half a decade of age, and Ivy already battled the court for Mother’s love.

Heartbreak had found its home in her, leaving her forlorn and resolute. It was better to be thrown to the wilds than to the gluttonous maw of the people, Ivy was certain.

Or, Ivy was born in the cold, and she spends her following years searching for warmth.

long may she reign

aleivy | mild nsfw | 5.4k words | one shot

“Marry me,” she spoke with slurred ardor, the words no louder than her clamorous heart.

“What?” Alear’s crystal clear astonishment silenced the whir in Ivy’s ears, sobering her so thusly that she stepped back with a gasp.

She didn’t have far to go before the door halted her escape, frigid fingers pressing to her own lips in self-admonishment. Ivy cursed her carelessness, her ill-timed slip of the tongue.

“I…” Silver tears of mortification clumped in her lower lashes; she couldn’t meet Alear’s awaiting stare. “Please, just forget I said anything.”

Or, Ivy ponders the prospect of marriage.

take my praise, take my heart too

aleivy | nsfw | 4k words | one shot

“I don’t understand.” She found her voice at last, already following after Alear’s sure gate. “Go where?”

“I’d like to be alone with you somewhere quieter, away from the bevy.” Alear stopped short in one of the western hallways, the life-size portrait of Lumera regarding them kindly from astride the floor to ceiling windows. “Is that alright?”

Ivy floundered in the face of her stately zeal. “Of course.”

Or, Ivy and Alear escape oppressive noble ramblings to find solace in one another.

———

Honkai Star Rail

my love is mine, all mine

kafstel | nsfw | 2.5k words | one-shot

“Would you marry me?” Stelle asked, her air of nonchalance almost comical.

“Marry you…” Kafka repeated, fingers twitching when Stelle pressed down on the tendons of her forearm. She worked at them a moment more, kneading her into pliancy it seemed.

“Me, yes.” As if Kafka would wed anyone else, and then: “I’m feeling just witless enough, aren’t you?”

Or, after a mission of little intrigue, Kafka and Stelle get married on a whim.

———

Genshin Impact

the devil is in the details

eisara | nsfw | multi-chapter, ongoing (4/?)

Sara—waylaid by heartbreak, disillusionment, and the fruity dregs of alcohol—summons a demon.

What happens after that is a blur.

Or, Sara is a medical student down on her luck, and Ei is a demon who yearns for company.

athyrium

kokoei | nsfw | 6.2k words | one shot (follow up for ‘beneath the roots’)

“If I didn’t know any better, Your Excellency,” Ei whispered to match the room’s lull, gaze falling to Kokomi’s lips, “I’d say you were courting me.”

Kokomi blinked, slow and cat-like. “It’s a good thing you know so much then, isn’t it?”

Or, Kokomi finally returns Ei’s letter.

and there is beauty yet unknown

furina-centric (gen) | sfw | 4k words | one shot

She hoped to feel a stirring deep within, a sprightly spark of hope like some grand pedagogy of the waters might lead her out of befuddlement. No such calling befell her, though the next rushing headwind brought with it the promise of snow.

Or, Furina finds a reason.

renaissance

furina-centric (gen) | sfw |3.5k words | one shot

How did one mourn the death of oneself? Furina wondered often, stared blankly up at the ceiling until her vision grew spotty, unsure whether to cry, or laugh, or shout her frustration.

Or, Furina mourns, she breaks, and, in time, she finds solace.

behind this house, an orange tree grows

eisara | nsfw | 7.7k words | one shot (sequel to ‘of dividends and dubious hearts’)

Her fingers dipped into the waistline of Ei’s skirt, the fabric fluttering to the floor as she sank to her knees. Sara pressed her lips to the crosshatch imprint that remained, chasing after each errant freckle in her descent, mouth half open and searing by the time her words finally settled.

Ei blinked, dazed, shoving at Sara’s forehead as gently as her mounting thrill would allow. “You mean…”

“Yoimiya helped me with the last of my things.” Sara kissed the jut of her hip, the marked notch of her pelvis, etching her smile into the plush of Ei’s stomach. “I’m officially moved in, as of this afternoon.”

Or, their life in bloom, one summer later.

where the white jasmine grows

makomiko | sfw | 5.8k words | one shot (prequel to ‘beneath the roots and further still’)

She made a ghostly visage, though not so haunting. She was otherworldly, straightening with a huff, and shoving her half-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of her nose. Makoto tossed her hair over her shoulder— the cascade of it rippling like the grander waters against her back— and the swelling bud behind Miko’s breastbone burst open to bare its waxy petals.

She gasped at the initial jolt, a sharp pain that melted to ataractic warmth. “Mako?” she called out without thought, voice small and tremulous, barely louder than the patter of foot traffic just beyond the window.

Or, Miko loves her, like flora do the sun.

take me under the blue

ayasara | nsfw | 2k words | one shot

Ayaka sounded amused, lips sliding over the hinge of the general’s clenched jaw. Sara lay prone, agog.

“What do you think about?”

“Missing you.” Ayaka kissed the apple of Sara’s cheek, propping up on her elbows until their lips ghosted. “Wanting you.” She rolled her hips in punctuation, swooping her tongue past Sara’s parted lips before the general could register the throaty proclamation.

Or, Ayaka and Sara elect to stay in bed for the morning.

of dividends and dubious hearts

eisara | eventually nsfw | 43k words | multi-chapter, completed (4/4)

The woman across from Ei seemed awestruck by the mere sound of her voice. Her smile slackened, a nearly imperceptible slip before she responded, “Sara Kujou.” Kunikuzushi sniffled loudly, severing their prolonged contact; Sara stepped back, looking almost bashful when she bowed her head and laughed. “But the kids call me Ms. Kujou.”

“How strange,” Ei hummed, cocking her head just enough to catch a glimpse of the other woman’s sharpened jaw, observing with open-eyed blatancy. “I can’t recall seeing you in the school directory last year.”

Or, Sara is Kunikuzushi’s teacher, and Ei is a single mom doing her best.

come away with me

dehyarzad | sfw | 1.5k words | one shot

Her childhood home, her gilded prison— coming back here had only brought her greater pain. Father and Mother always feared her dreams, but that had never stopped her from running.

Or, Dunyarzad’s parents can be stifling, but Dehya is always a welcome reprieve.

in this palace in chains

dehyarzad | nsfw | 4k words | one shot

She wound her arms around Dehya’s neck, urging their lips to brush when she spoke, “if this is what you want, then I have no reservations with you taking.” Dunyarzad slid a hand down to the dip of the mercenary’s back, breath catching when their bare skin touched. “I want you to make me feel alive.”

Or, Dehya is there, blindingly brilliant, and Dunyarzad yearns despite it all.

over the garden wall

eisara | eventually nsfw | 13k words | multi-chapter, completed (2/2)

Sara despised nothing more than being akin to a caged oscine— trapped and pinned by monotony and over frugality— and so she fled. Battered car and tentative determination guided her to the coast, down the winding roads of town, and up the gravel path to the house of promise. She would start anew, beginning in the garden where revelation waited.

Or, Sara moves to a small town and meets a ghost who uproots her world (an eisara ghost au)

between the lines

kokoyae | nsfw | 3k words | one shot

Nothing pleased Kokomi more than a good book and titillating conversation— the Guuji Yae offering both in droves— and so she boarded the resistance branded transport vessel on the last day of each month, Narukami island bound and heart fluttering with the promise of fulfilling literary analysis.

Or, Yae tells Kokomi to keep reading, no matter how dizzying her touch.

beneath the roots and further still

yaesara | nsfw | 100k words | multi-chapter, complete (23/23)

Driven by the gripping force of erosion and grief, Ei flees Tenshukaku without a word. She traverses beyond the city with ease, leaving her beloved general and kitsune to give chase. Both Sara and Yae struggle to see eye to eye, but this much was clear: they must work together if they want to bring Ei back.

meet me beneath the old otogi tree

yaesara | sfw | 6k words | one shot

Spring gave way to summer, and though their hands joined with ease, Sara still floundered. There was no easy way to speak directly from the heart.

Or, Sara goes to Yoimiya for advice and spends a week trying to ask Yae on a date.

like chocolate (a taste that lingers)

eisara | nsfw | 6.8k words | one shot

Brisk winter air and chanced first meetings— Sara was certain the smell of chocolate had permeated the walls of her office by now, though she found she quite liked it.

Or, Ei and Sara run into each other in front of a coffee shop and never look back.

ode to evermore

eisara | nsfw | 6k words | one shot

When the fog of war and loss finally clears, the Almighty Shogun stands before her, hand outstretched; Sara grasps at her splendor, but the words never come.

Or, Ei asks Sara to marry her, and Sara doesn’t know what to say.

coalescence

eisara | sfw | 7.8k words | one shot

Sara had seen much of what Teyvat had to offer, very little was cause for surprise, but the way Ei looked at her now— open and fervent, dazzling— had the general positively reeling. What did it mean when she touched her like that?

Or, it's Ei and Sara, and the ways in which they come together.

is it alright if i call you mine

jeansara | nsfw | 5k words | one shot

Surely one drunken kiss isn’t enough to derail their day at the gym, never mind how good Jean looks when she sweats.

Or, showering with a friend is a surefire way to work through some tension.

sweetest devotion

yaesara (implied eimikosara) | nsfw | 4.8k words | one shot

A wrapped lunch and soft caress go a long way, though Sara wasn't expecting this. Maybe she was spurred on by the heat of the summer sun, but the general was desperate for it.

Or, Yae Miko takes a break from work, with Sara's help of course.

in my heart is a christmas tree farm

yaesara | eventually nsfw | 19k words | multi-chapter, complete

Miko Yae, foreman of Yae Publishing House, doesn’t have time in her busy schedule for the leisure that often comes with the holidays. When she begrudgingly agrees to spend Christmas up in the mountains with Saiguu, Makoto, and her ex, Ei, she doesn’t expect to meet Sara as well.

Or, a yaesara hallmark christmas movie au

the smell of sunny places

eisara (implied eimikosara) | sfw | 5k words | one shot

The Raiden Shogun is insistent that Sara join her on a tour of Inazuma's sparse villages to provide reparations following the war. Despite her apprehension, Sara follows as always, braced for the worst to come to pass.

Or, Ei and Sara have each other, and perhaps that is enough.

dig those claws into this fragile heart of mine

eimikosara | sfw | 4.6k words | one shot

Atop Madam Kujou's thighs was Yae Miko's throne, so why was it that her reserved spot was now taken?

Or, Sara gets a cat, and Yae is jealous

realize not too late (loved you always)

eisara (implied eimikosara) | eventually nsfw | 18.5k words | multi-chapter, completed (5/5)

Following La Signora’s defeat, Sara is left despondent as her livelihood— her ambition— is stripped from her. How ironic. Sara decides she needs to get away for a while.

———

The Legend of Zelda

follow you anywhere

zelda/malon | sfw | 3k words | one shot (sequel to ‘my summer song’)

Zelda is nearing the end of her stay in Gerudo Desert, and each day away from Malon makes her longing grow stronger and more oppressive. They meet for a picnic and the Princess gives into her selfish desires; she asks her to stay.

all that’s left unsaid

midzel | sfw | 3k words | one shot

The Mirror of Twilight remains intact, and Midna stays. She makes a promise to Zelda, and even as the boundless days pass them by… she keeps it.

my summer song

zelda/malon | sfw | 11k words | multi-chapter, completed (3/3)

Following the Hero of Time's victory over Ganondorf, Zelda travels Hyrule on a mission to rebuild where tragedy hit over the last seven years, beginning with Lon Lon Ranch. She encounters Malon and is immediately drawn to her, much to Zelda's growing frustrations.

Lastly, I have an ongoing ko-fi request series (fandoms are varied!) My ko-fi requests are generally always open unless stated otherwise; all request info is on my ko-fi!

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mareastrorum · 11 months

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More tinfoil hats for LitMoR!

Oh boy, so I posted a conspiracy theory chart here (pre-chapter 24), for the connections between characters in @grayintogreen's Life in the Margins of Redemption series on AO3. Here is the updated version:

Quite a lot of messy updates. I also added unhinged/unsupported ideas in teal, but everything else is supported by text.

More excerpts under the cut:

So first, let's look at Lucien's captures/kidnappings. I didn't get that deep into any of them in the last post, but we'll go in chronological order.

Jagentoths (815)

As mentioned in the earlier post, the Jagentoths offered Heather Dougal 1,000 gold for Lucien, which she turned down. Then their thugs murdered the Dougals and took Lucien to the Jagentoths. Reese mentioned they could sell Lucien for 800 if they passed him off as a girl. The numbers didn't match up.

It turns out that A. Allard specifically wanted to "make sure the brat bleeds," to whatever end. That explains the discrepancy with the amounts.

2. Dodger (815)

This wasn't discussed in the last post, but in there's something divine in the way screams can sound, Dodger also caught Lucien and forced him to join his gang.

Of course, Dodger was then murdered by one of the other kids 4 years later (819), and Lucien was alone on the streets until he met Cree, Tyffial, and Jurrell.

3. Jagentoths (824)

Then the Jagentoths caught Lucien and his friends in 824, beat the living crap out of them, and sold them off. Turns out Lucien's big buyer on the coast was A. Allard:

There was also a letter to provide context:

So, for whatever reason, A. Allard was not satisfied with Lucien living on the streets with other orphans. Why didn't he care what the Jagentoths did with him in 815, but he was disappointed in 824? Did something change? Or was living on the streets of the Run not terrible enough? What was their goal in making Lucien suffer?

(Note: I don't think Lucien was actually 12 here, probably just so slight that he seemed younger than he was.)

4. Claret Orders (824)

Next, the Claret Orders rescued the kids before they reached the coast (from OUADYA):

This one turned out to be relatively benign, and judging by Vax's comments in the Commune (discussed below), this was the Raven Queen taking action.

5. Somnovem (833)

So, this is a pet theory: I don't think DeRogna killed Lucien for her own purposes. I think the Somnovem wanted her to.

Think about it. DeRogna had nine red eyes. If she got all of them before the ritual, why did the Somnovem give her more eyes than any of the Tombtakers? If she got them after the ritual, why did she have any after killing Lucien? Neither makes sense unless the Somnovem had some special purpose for her.

In addition, the Somnovem's plan for the Nonagon hinged on getting Lucien's soul into Cognouza so they could force him to fix things. But if an Astral Projection spell had worked properly, then Cree could have gotten him out with a simple Dispel Magic, unless the tether to his body was cut. Destroying such a tether is only possible with very specific things that explicitly are capable of it, like a Githyanki sword or an Astral Deadnaught's attack. So the Somnovem probably couldn't break an Astral Projection tether.

But DeRogna didn't break the tether. She broke Lucien's soul. When Lucien comes to in Cognouza (also in screams), Ira suddenly decided to bring up DeRogna and tell Lucien that she took the tome:

Why? What purpose was there to tell Lucien that unprompted? I think Ira wanted Lucien to fill in the blank because the Somnovem didn't say DeRogna sabotaged the ritual--Lucien assumed it.

And if that's the case, then Lucien never had a chance once he was convinced he needed to do the ritual. The Somnovem had been planning to kill and capture him from the start. And that explains why Ophelia had nightmares of the Somnovem when she was pregnant in as in the painted parlor, ophelia dreams.

So, yeah, the Somnovem have been planning to get their Nonagon for a long time, and I think DeRogna was just the final piece to get that done.

Anyway, the remaining kidnappings (6-8) were in the LitMoR stories themselves, so I won't recount them. That's just keeping track. Lucien's almost to 9! I bet he gets a prize. (The prize is suffering.)

Onto the second topic: The Allard Family!

As discussed above, there was an A. Allard that tried to buy Lucien, but Ashley's too young, so it must have been someone else. Then Jester sent Sendings (TO ASHLEY) that got us more.

So Ashley had an uncle that was also an A. Allard, but he's dead. This also confirms that Ashley was NOT involved in the Jagentoth's torment or the attempts to abduct Lucien earlier. So Jester sent to her mom, then Ashley again:

So now we know Ashley had an uncle named ALDER (A TYPE OF TREE) and a brother named Pomeroy (APPLE ORCHARDS), both dead. HMMMM. And based on Alder's letters, Marion was deceived that he was nice. They're all shitheads.

Considering that the prior post noted that Ashley wasn't supposed to get the Blade of Broken Mirrors, he might have been the reason they're both dead. After all, if Alder was actually doing the work of interfering with Lucien's life (and theoretically fucking with Cognouza), then he was probably the one with the knife. If Ashley was the "black sheep" maybe he was rejected by the people carrying it out. No way to know for sure yet.

Next is Rowan, or her new name, Marianne Mardoon:

Honey hair, hazel eyes, and asymmetrical bangs. SHE'S ROWAN! I KNOW IT! She even visited the coast a few months back--perfect timing for the Court of Nightmare's party. Even though Rowan was a half-elf and Marianne is a human, that just bolsters the idea that she's a changeling!

(Note: Alder died 3 years ago... the same year that Lucien died. That's quite a coincidence. If it really was Ashley that did it, why did he do it at that time? And if he did, why is Rowan/Marianne helping Ashley now? Maybe she doesn't know. THE PLOT THICKENS.)

But anyway. Marianne was engaged to Alder from the coast. The only Alder from the coast that we know of now is Alder Allard! So since someone had to have tipped him off about the purple tiefling being raised by a nice elderly couple, that must have been Marianne. And if the Allards were trying to make Lucien "bleed," then Marianne probably also was the reason Ophelia was adopted by Jack Mardoon to take over.

And now Marianne is leaving for the east:

What is to the east that the Seven would be interested in? Bazzoxan and the King's Cage! That's the last champion the Seven need to break the fanes, and that would complete their group of 7.

(Note: Because they have Zerxus, they don't need Yasha for the fanes. But considering Jayne's prior interest in Yasha (especially how her in danger triggered Molly going berserk), I don't think that means the Seven don't have plans for Yasha.)

Next, let's look at the stuff we learned in the Cleric Club's Commune:

First, the Court of Nightmares wasn't a front for anything.

Yves Allard was just doing his own thing, not some ulterior motive beyond the Court's activities. But as the last post showed, Jayne was there messing with stuff. So that suggests Jayne wasn't working with Yves when she was messing with Molly. Considering that Jayne is truly devout to Tharizdun, perhaps that just solidifies that Yves was a poser like the rest of the Court.

Second, the Betrayer Gods as a group aren't involved in this conspiracy:

Judging by the description, that it "begins and ends everything," they "tried to contain it," and it's not really anyone's ally, I bet this is Tharizdun. And it seems Tharizdun can affect fate just as well as the Matron--suggesting that the glimpses of creepy stuff we saw in Ophelia's side story wasn't just Cognouza reaching out, but the Chained Oblivion as well.

Of course, that might have still been Cognouza, but the darkness and ooze makes me think Tharizdun was involved in putting Ophelia (and Lucien) in the Somnovem's sights. Since it can affect fate, perhaps it was the reason Lucien was Ruidusborn too.

Third, Vax cheats with the Commune a bit.

Lucien wasn't meant to "live." Like, Vax is bending the rules here, but he might be keeping in the spirit by being cryptic. Did he mean that Lucien wasn't supposed to survive or is it the distinction of survival/living that Lucien threw at Molly previously? Hard to say. Maybe Vax is referring to the theory that the Somnovem might have been the reason DeRogna killed him, so his death was always the plan. Or maybe he wasn't supposed to have control of his own life. Cryptic jerk!

Vax also said "every single bit" of Lucien is at risk. I feel like he's also including Molly as part of Lucien there. Then Vax warns Cree not to let him falter "for love or for selfishness." So there's going to be risky choices where choosing love or selfishness could ruin everything. But if he included Molly as a "bit" of Lucien, could that also mean Molly might make such a choice? Maybe!

Next, let's talk about the Pattern.

During Beau's presentation of her conspiracy theory chart (hahaha), Lucien and Cree noted that the shape of it was reminiscent of the Pattern. However...

Lucien never got that good of an understanding of the Pattern despite that it was something apart from Cognouza and the Somnovem. As mentioned in the prior post, patterns are important to the Allards, strengthening the idea that the Pattern has something to do with Tharizdun. It could be how Tharizdun influences Cognouza's corruption, but it doesn't seem like it would be outright control. If it was control, then there'd be no need for the Allards to do anything to fuck with Cognouza because Tharizdun would do that itself.

And speaking of the Pattern, the Somnovem previously hinted that even though they don't have the book, they might be able to reach out to people that have survived Molly's/Ira's attack:

And the only known survivor is Trent Ikithon. Oh, boy! Looks like this could get way worse.

(NOTE: READ THE SIDE STORIES. THEY HAVE JUICY BITS.)

So that's all the updates for now. This is getting even more juicy!

#litmor #life in the margins of redemption #you can't deny high noon #once upon a damn you all

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7grandmel · 2 months

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Todays rip: 08/03/2024

Reach for the Submission, Immortal Fes

Season 5 Featured on: Bloodstained Bounties ~ The SiIvaGunner All-Star Summer Festival 2021 Collection [Event Side]

Ripped by minindo, Myeauxyoozi

youtube

Requested by crickqt! (Ask Box)

And so we reach the third installment of this, I guess "Trilogy" of Minindo Touhou rips. It's fascinating, especially as someone who doesn't really know much about the games, to see how Touhou music gradually became more and more prominent on SiIva over the years - it began as mostly just Princess Sylvyspirit's passion project on the channel back in Season 1, yet gradually grew into becoming one of the channel's most known sources for good ass rips. Touhou creator ZUN was featured in both King for a Day Tournaments, we finally got the long-awaited Touhou album right before Season 5 began, and as Season 5's big summer festival event drew to a close, it was a Touhou rip - Reach for the Submission, Immortal Fes - that co-signed its ending.

I've gone on record saying that Season 5 was the time where I was...least engaged in the channel's activity. I believe I described the Season as feeling "aimless" back in my rip :), which in hindsight I wouldn't exactly say is accurate, It's moreso just that it was a period where the channel was doing things I wasn't quite as enthusiastic about. In a way the change was to be expected: the team had put the main narrative of the channel on hold since Season 3 and spent both episodes of Season 4 specifically on building up to, performing, and celebrating the King for Another Day tournament. Season 5 (and the final months of Season 4 Episode 2) was then, in a way, the first time that the channel wasn't really tethered to any recently set-up beats to follow through on, with the Christmas Comeback Crisis already long on hiatus and the King for Another Day tournament officially wrapped up. As a result, we got a ton of interesting, out-there projects that we likely wouldn't have otherwise: The beginning of SiIvaGunner Fusion Records/SGFR in snow halation but it shreds and Running Through Cookie Country, the debut of Friday Night Funkin' and the ridiculously high-effort rips made for it such as Epic Rap Battles of History: Funny vs. Funnier; and of course the continued emphasis on voice acted side stories, with various audio dramas such as Curse of the Fallen Angel in Knowledge of the Depths and today's topic, SummerFes 2021.

SummerFes 2021 may not have had as much immediate emotional pathos as its predecessor in Season 4 Episode 2, but used its standalone nature to great effect - a super distinct western theming with some of the best art on the channel, tons of left field events like Christmas in July with Nostalgic Blood of the Gregg ~ Old Source and Dream's birthday with Five Dreams at Night 1.16, and so much more. In closing out this vast, varied fun time of rips, Reach for the Submission, Immortal Fes is more than just a meme medley mashup - most all of the jokes are, in chronological order, reflecting each part of this greater SummerFes event. The annual PSY Day, the Spirited Away anniversary event, the Dream event (synced with *Dream* Land's music from Smash 64 to also cover Super Star Symphony), Beatles Day...its a full-on journey, a trip down memory lane of the entire event and just how much fun it all was.

Minindo's ripping prowess is something I've emphasized before in the prior Touhou rips of his I've covered, particularly Beautiful Dreamer, but it absolutely bears repeating: a rip this varied and large in scope only works because the guy is exceptionally good at what he does. And while I definitely prefer Beautiful Dreamer as a listen due purely to how focused and refined it is, Reach for the Submission, Immortal Fes still manages to give me those same feelings that the smaller-scale Fusion Collabs on the channel have always done, of sending me on an audio journey through an super-event that, though less fondly than others, I do still hold very dear to my heart. A lot of people became fans of SiIvaGunner through King for Another Day and its subsequent celebration in the Season 4 duology, and SummerFes 2021 did an excellent job demonstrating just how good the team is at keeping you engaged even with seemingly so little to actually work with.

#todays siivagunner #season 5 #siivagunner #siiva #minindo #Myeauxyoozi #Youtube #touhou #touhou project #touhou music #woodman #wood man #king for another day tournament #kfad #mashup #mashups #ytpmv

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starburstfloat · 7 months

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been seeing a lot of moatwt theories saying that the tnc: freefall concepts are revisiting the chaos chapter: freeze concepts but grittier since they’re back to reality/left the magic island??

tbh my brain can’t keep up with the theories rn but what do u think!!

Oehhh a revisiting of the chaos chapter tbh it's clever because wasn't the chaos chapter all about a boy experiencing his first heartbreak and realizing the world isn't all sunshine and butterflies?

Perhaps this is a fresh take, albeit more related to the religious motifs of purity versus sin and paradise versus hell (assuming we're continuing the sacrilegious tone from tnc temptation).

My guess for now given the rough and tethered looks of the last two concept photos is that the album picks off from the boys departing Neverland, believing that leaving the devil's so-called paradise and back to the world of truth would lead them back to themselves, when really they find that reality/the real world is super tough. Especially when you don't distract yourself with hedonistic pleasures.

Or, given how anarchic and dystopian the reality and melancholy pics look, respectively, they may have fallen straight from paradise into some sort of hell??

Side tangent here but I'm finding it very interesting that back for more, which we'd previously discussed as being potentially narrated by the devil figure, is not placed as one of the first songs on the album, but rather one of the last. If we are assuming that tnc ff like tnc temptation is a concept album and therefore follows a chronological storyline from song to song...does that mean the devil is far from finished with them?? When can my boys get some peace hahaha

#anywho!#super curious how this album will thematically tie everything together #also sonically what can we expect??#people have pointed out the electric guitar abd keyboard set from the melancholy pics #and we know kai has been practicing guitar lately 😉#soooo...??#guess I'll die lol #txt comeback

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bi-bard · 1 year

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The Yearbook Series - Sleeping At Last Writing Challenge

This is the masterlist for a writing challenge dedicated to the "Yearbook" project created by Sleeping at Last.

Each story will go with one month. Each month has a dedicated EP with three songs. Each song will get its own part of the story.

So, to put it simply, each story will have three parts.

I hope you enjoy this writing challenge.

[Note: parts are listed in chronological order of my stories, which may not be the same as how they appear on the original EPs]

January [Will Graham X Reader]

Wires [Release Date: 2/20/2023]

Catch Our Breath and Let Go Summary: (Y/n) and Will have worked together for a long time now. As time goes on, the pair seemingly dance around each other. When the people stuck working with them get tired of watch it, Will and (Y/n) find themselves forced to confront how they feel.

January White [Release Date: 2/22/2023]

If Nothing Else, We're Given a Little Time to Change the Heart in Which We Change Our Minds Summary: The year has come and gone. It's meant to be a season of new beginnings and letting the past lie. The question is whether Will and (Y/n) can hold that lesson to heart and move on from each of their mistakes.

The Ash Is in Our Clothes [Release Date: 2/24/2023]

The Ash Is in Our Clothes Summary: Will wasn't one to credit fate for what has happened in his life. However, (Y/n) may have been the exception to that rule. If only the universe wasn't just as cruel as it was kind.

February [Dean Winchester X Reader]

Land or Sea [Release Date: 3/2/2023]

Our Process Implies Our Progress Summary: Hunting was sometimes a painful reminder that no day was promised to you. When (Y/n) is given that harsh reminder, Dean takes it upon himself to help them as much as possible.

Learning Curve [Release Date: 3/4/2023]

No Learning Curve Could Ever Bend Us Too Far Out of Shape Summary: It wasn't rare for a dream to be more tempting than reality. But sometimes- just sometimes- reality can come through and put that dream to shame.

Dear True Love [Release Date: 3/6/2023]

What Little That I Have to Give, I Will Give It All to You Summary: After years of avoiding and expecting the worst from the world, Dean finally feels like he's won.

March [Twelfth Doctor X Reader]

Pacific [Release Date: 4/5/2023]

Pacific Summary: The Doctor saves a kingdom from falling apart. The soon-to-be-ruler finds themself intrigued with the man who to literally fall from the sky. That man offers (Y/n) a chance to see so much more than the world that they know for most of their life.

Outlines [Release Date: 4/7/2023]

I'm Crossing My Fingers for Something to Hold Summary: Traveling with the Doctor offers (Y/n) more of a purpose than they have ever known before. Not that the doctor would ever believe that.

Birthright [Release Date: 4/9/2023]

But All Impossible Odds Foreshadow Our Means Summary: (Y/n) returns home to find their army on the verge of war. They're ready to fight for the people that they care for. The Doctor understands that but all he wants is to keep them from making the same mistake that he did.

April [Jay Halstead X Reader]

Intermission [Release Date: 5/3/2023]

I'm Here, Somewhere Between Victory and a White Flag Summary: (Y/n) jumped around from place to place for a long time. They never thought that they'd find a place that felt right. After finding out about these thoughts, Jay does what he can to make 21st District feel like home.

Tethered [Release Date: 5/5/2023]

You'll Be the Oxygen I Need Summary: After a case takes a bad turn, Jay is taken hostage by the very person that the team had been chasing. The peace of getting him back only lasts for a few hours before the aftereffects start to rear their ugly head.

In the Meantime [Release Date: 5/7/2023]

Maybe There's No Answer Here, At Least One We're Ready to Hear Summary: Jay and (Y/n) planned for forever. However, no one can plan for everything. Now, Jay begs for one night of normalcy before everything falls apart.

May [Dick Grayson X Reader]

Segue [Release Date: 5/14/2023]

Segue Summary: Dick never planned to fall for someone. However, when a new vigilante shows up in Gotham, he finds his attention torn from his work. And he can't find it in himself to feel upset about that.

Pacific Blues [Release Date: 5/16/2023]

Imagine How Brave I'd Be, If I Knew I'd Be Safe Summary: Dick's life has been marked by loss. (Y/n) understands that. Still, they want to try to be with him, no matter the risks.

Silhouettes [Release Date: 5/18/2023]

When It Surfaces, Just Hold Your Breath and Swim Summary: (Y/n) never expected Dick to come back to Gotham. When he does, they wanted to forget all that had happened between them. However, after Dick gets into a fight with Bruce, (Y/n) finds themself remembering the things that led him to run away in the first place.

June [Kaz Brekker X Reader]

Hourglass [Release Date: 7/3/2023]

How Did We Get So Good at Dismantling These Hearts? Summary: Kaz gets word of a new job for the Crows. On the surface, it appeared to be nothing other than a normal job. However, when he tells the crew, (Y/n) has a reaction that immediately catches his attention. He just needs to find out why.

Atlantic [Release Date: 7/5/2023]

Atlantic Summary: Kaz goes to (Y/n) for help in preparing for the upcoming heist, much to (Y/n)'s confusion. Luckily, all is made clear soon enough.

The Sea of Atlas [Release Date: 7/7/2023]

Such Careful Words That We Can Barely Speak Out Loud Summary: The Crows return from their latest job. With Kaz back in Ketterdam, (Y/n) sees no better time for them to discuss what had happened before he left.

July [Arthur Shelby X Child!Reader]

Aperture [Release Date: 7/24/2023]

I Know that I've Asked it Before but Please Let the Scale Tip Here in My Favor Summary: Arthur finds a kid hiding in the shadows of an alley. He never thought that a single act of kindness could lead to anything bigger than that. And yet, he finds himself hoping that he doesn't screw everything up in the long run.

Hit or Miss [Release Date: 7/26/2023]

Only Time Will Tell On Which Pedestal We Were Meant to Stand Summary: Polly talks some sense into Arthur after his behavior becomes out of control and he ends up pushing away the one person that seemed to care for him no matter what.

Wilderness [Release Date: 7/28/2023]

Be Your Best for Her Summary: Arthur faces the reality of (Y/n) growing up... and he despises it.

August [Karen Sirko X Reader]

Page 28 [Release Date: 8/11/2023]

I Guess I'm Trusting That There's Such a Thing as Elegance in Dissonance Summary: An old friend of the original Dunne Brothers finds their way to the band's doorstep. At one of the worst points of their life, (Y/n) is forced to reevaluate their life so far. The biggest question is where (Y/n) is going to end up once they get through all of their self-reflection.

No Argument [Release Date: 8/13/2023]

Only Love Can Change the Shape of Such Permanent Truths Summary: After their first kiss, Karen finds herself pushing (Y/n) away. The tour for the band's new album "AURORA" seems like the perfect chance for her to get over her feelings. However, when (Y/n) comes to visit the band at their hometown show, Karen realizes that distance did nothing to help her.

Households [Release Date: 8/15/2023]

Households Summary: Karen and (Y/n) find themselves at complete peace when Karen comes home from tour for the first time since their bought their first home together.

September [Sebastian Sanger X Reader]

Noble Aim [Release Date: 10/13/2023]

Chances are We are the Same; Against the Odds, Against the Grain Summary: Two damaged people find that there are more similarities between them than they originally thought. That discovery leads them to becoming closer than either of them thought that they'd be.

Goes On and On [Release Date: 10/15/2023]

In Your Disbelief, You'll Clear Your Eyes as If You're Seeing Light for the Very First Time Summary: (Y/n) and Sebastian find themselves in the care of the Titans. While they are dealing with the reality of being suddenly pulled away from their lives, (Y/n) tries to keep hopes high with the promise of what could be after all of this is said and done.

Resolve. [Release Date: 10/17/2023]

What was Kindness in Our Eyes is Now a Blemished Masterpiece Summary: In which two people want the other to see their side of something monumental, only to be met with stubbornness and refusal.

October [Connell Waldron X Reader]

Watermark [Release Date: TBD]

Dive In, With Your Eyes Closed For the Life You Were Born to Claim Summary: (Y/n) and Connell find themselves talking about their futures. This discussion leads to a fixation on the past and the idea of just how far someone can run from it.

Homesick [Release Date: TBD]

If Love's Elastic, Then Were We Born to Test its Reach? Summary: Connell and (Y/n) find themselves separated from each other. They try to make it work but their new environments and pressures lead to cracks in their foundation. The only question now is whether or not the distance is too much.

Next To Me [Release Date: TBD]

Honestly, Nothing's Felt More Sure Than When You Were Next to Me Summary: Two lost souls find themselves home at the same time for the first time in years. They reconnect and realize that instead of missing home, they may have only missed each other.

November [Genya Safin X Reader]

101010 [Release Date: TBD]

Change is Slow, but I Feel It Taking Shape Summary: Genya and (Y/n) didn't stay in the Little Palace because of their devotion to the cause; they were there because they had no other choice. Their steps to their perfect life were slow, but they were there. All that the pair had to do was remember that.

Emphasis [Release Date: TBD]

A Spark of Life Can Reignite the Sun and Swallow Darkness Whole Summary: The fear of the expanding Fold and growing war only become worse when Genya and (Y/n) end up separated. However, that same fear may be the only thing that can lead them back to each other.

Bright & Early [Release Date: TBD]

But Why Couldn't I Have Been Safe From the Start? Summary: After the Fold falls, Genya and (Y/n) find a safe place for themselves. However, peace was not promised to their minds merely due to the fighting coming to an end.

December [Doric X Reader]

Snow [Release Date: TBD]

Unconditionally Cared for by Those Who Share Our Broken Hearts Summary: (Y/n) finds themself feeling like they truly belong for the first time when Doric introduces them to the group that she sometimes "worked" with.

Accidental Light [Release Date: TBD]

Some Call It Reckless, Some Call It Breathing Summary: Doric finds herself becoming incredibly protective of (Y/n) when she sees just how much they're working themself to the bone.

From the Ground Up [Release Date: TBD]

It Grows and Grows, Our Home Sweet Home Summary: Doric and the crew spend a day planning (Y/n)'s perfect day... they should have known that it wouldn't go to plan.

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

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

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bluest-planet · 8 months

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Unfathomable Rage, snippet.

Even if Yoruhua's Heart is no longer made entirely of Darkness, their body still is. And sometimes it feels like they just swapped one steel cage for another made of bone.

Vanitas just wants his keyblade back.

Part of this series of a loosely connected OC and Vanitas' roadtrip snippets. Non chronological. And loose continuity.

Yoruhua honestly has no idea what he was doing anymore.

He is old, and he is tired.

He didn't want to do this again; there's was so much left yet to to do, he felt overwhelmed as to which path to follow next, along with worrying over taking care of both himself and Vanitas from any harm in their weaken states. Be it Light or Darkness.

He has no thought out rescue plan, no supplies, no protection in Quiet Regalia, no idea where he's going in such a vastly unrecognizable realm, one that's moved on without him after all these years.

He's just going, anywhere that'll take him. He has nothing to guide him, except his broken piece of heart. Even then, the mountain of work left ahead of him made him so exhaustively frustrated.

Yet again he was forced to restart his life from nothing. To figure out how to climb that infinite mountain.

First it was being born; created by his mourning sisters' misplaced hope in seeing their brother again- left to assimilate in the night, in the Dark. When he hadn't been what they were expecting.

Then, it was being forgotten in a rushed retreat- abandoned to a hostile foreign Realm. Completely detached from the collective he was apart of, like drifting like broken, dying coral.

At least then he had her to keep him company and teach him about her realm. She who allowed him to graft himself onto, anchored to her shadow.

After that, he returned to an immature collective, regained his crown, his power, his title, and his hour of night. But he didn't want any of it anymore, he couldn't, so he gave it up to be one with her forever; promising to share the same heart and shadow, mind and matter.

I am thou, and thou art I.

He thought that was the end of it, he finally had everything he ever wanted. Even if they weren't accepted in either grace of Night and Day. Now he existed in a state fuller than he's ever felt before, heart unbound by natural law, free to traverse between dawn and dusk. He had nothing left and wanted nothing more. Free to make their own choices.

Until... Well, nothing ever seems to last long enough.

Again it was all taken away again. Grossly ripped apart and without mercy. Unwillingly annullling his promise, left to watch the life he didn't even get to finish building, pass by him through a narrow, unfinished window. Leaving permeant angry claw marks on the sil and cracks in the stained glass.

And now? After all that time? He's free, he was alive, he was here, and he made it. But that wasn't very true was it? He's still waiting for her near the end of the finish line, as he promised. He refused to cross the line without her word. Not when he still has to gather all his pieces up again and again.

Over, and over.

It was grounding those pieces down, into nothing but dust.

And you can't fix dust, can you?

Nor can you get it back when it's been blown away. Lost in the wind.

Ash to dust, left to rust, all time fades away...

...

I'm going insane.

It would be so easy to fall back into that ever present anger that still simmered just under his cold skin. Boiling him alive. It was making him sicker by the minute.

For so long, his anger kept him tethered to this existance, using negativity to recreate his own well gravity where there was none; furious at his imprisonment, he used it to crush his foes and bind other hearts to his own, in an last attempt to drag the one he so desperately wanted back,

Her.

Orichalchemi.

His Heart's Promise.

A shuddered breath escapes him as he walks through the small village. It's barely audible under the humid and heavy, down pouring rain. He briefly looks over his short companion for a distraction. There, Vanitas walks beside him quietly for once.

Was he enjoying it? The heavy, oppressive rain practically flooding the streets, creating small waterfalls falling from old clay rooftops tiles into gushing streams atop gris weathered cobblestone. A loud swirling sound coming from the round drain grate in the middle of the street. And though they were largely protected walking besides the storefronts and under their awnings, the wild wind still manages to land a few droplets on them.

Yoruhua tries to enjoy it; having been stuck in a Keyblade for so long deprived of any sensation- this should feel... Euphoric, shouldn't it? Their anger should be washed away with the rain; they had no use for it, now that they were free- it should've instead burned out to give way for fiery determination only.

But...

Another deep breath escapes them, stealing petrichor rich air immediately after, hoping to extinguish the stubborn fury still burning in their lungs like fire in a coal mine. And they swallow saliva to banish the tight bitterness clogging their throat, the toxic fumes that escaped from the hell underneath.

Yoruhua is unable to stop the way their brows furrow into an unwanted hateful scowl on their face.

Immediately, they feel Vanitas' questioning stare. Always quick to pick up on their mood, likely able to smell the intensifying burnt copal wafting from them, even under all this rain. Regardless of the smell, he's annoyingly perceptive like that; able to read people in an instant, always anticipating for hostility.

They used to be the same; but now, they've lost that too, just like they did everything else upon being freed. Walking, talking, breathing, reading, sleeping. And so much more. All of it digested by gluttonous fury that deemed it unimportant to preserve.

They stifle a deep sigh. Guess they'll just have to relearn that too, they've done so many times before.

Except this time Orichalchemi isn't right there by their side to learn along with them, their mind circles back, entirely intrusive. They shift the tracks on that dreary train of thought to something more positive; on her never wavering support and fun mischief. Gone, but not forgotten.

They longed so deeply to hear another of her dumb jokes and puns, get sidetracked listening to whatever rant about some odd plants she found, or just goofing off while the furnaces smelted iron in the privacy of her forge.

He feels the ghost of Orichalchemi's metal touch on her cheeks. It would be warm, heated up by a day's work blacksmithing, comforting on Yoruhua's cool icy skin. Always trying to keep them warm even if she herself couldn't feel the temperature. Smudgy ash would get on his skin, but he wouldn't mind, not when she'd always wipe it off with that well worn, patchy handkerchief of hers.

What Yoruhua would do just to be able to dance with her one more time, or collaborate on creating a new keyblade, or gardening in peaceful silence.

He wanted her and Vanitas to meet. To show Vanitas that not all hope was lost; there were some Lights that accepted and respected them for what they are. That there was a chance at a normal life for them, he didn't have to walk only at the edges of sunrise; the day was theirs for the taking too.

They just knew she would share the same admiration and love for the Dark in him as she did for them.

But their rose tinted memories and dreams do next to nothing to soothe their pain. It only fans the flames.

If... If she didn't find her, then neither her nor Vanitas would be able to truly stop running. She'd never be able to claim the day for herself again. Yoruhua doesn't think she can do this all on her own, so it's not an option. She must find her.

And instead, she's here. Wasting time.

This time, there's no mistaking it, another frustrated sigh seethes past their increasingly blackening teeth. Their icy breath misting miasma into humid, hot air.

Ironic that their emotions burned them inside out within a frosted shell.

They can barely breath. Charcoal black copal suffocating their lungs.

Another step, keep walking, the rain is never ending. His footsteps next to yours; my footsteps next to his.

They're his, they'll always be his, I can recognize his gait anywhere. I would know, I've watched him since birth. You're irreplaceable, you're me, so I'll never forget what you sound like; but when he walks next to me like that, it's like he's stepping in the footsteps you left behind.

Did you make this desired path for us to take? To make this journey ever so easier for me, just as I tried to support him? I hope it leads back to you. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, where are you? Why am I here at the end of the line, without you? Did you take a branching path I somehow missed? Please wait for me to catch up!

...Will you always be out of reach?

...

Light flashes over the village, a blinding white in less than a second. Lightning. A very old fear plucks at her heartstrings, stopping her in her tracks.

"What's got you so spooked?" Vanitas jeers.

Yoruhua's fingers twitch, and they resist the urge to clench right into a fist. Or to let their claws unsheathe. Ruining their white leather gloves.

Instead, they bring their hands close to their chest and crack their knuckles against their palms. A satisfying string of boney pops and cracks echo between them. Then they twist their atrophied wrists, it's louder, and sounds painful. But it isn't. It snaps instead like pulled rubber.

The space between their joints feel looser, less tight, lest upset.

For now.

Vanitas seems mildly put off by their actions and lack of reply, but puts on a mean smirk, "well, whatever, I'd thought you'd never shut up."

That gets a response.

Yoruhua's miscolored eyes snap to look him directly in the eye. His own red pupils scorned by hers; yellow stained sclera, with birthed red on the right, and adopted blue on the left.

She doesn't say anything, just stares at him as if she's looking right through him. It's... Terrifying. It's not at all what he wanted or expected trying to get another rise out of her.

She shouldn't look at me that, his mind tells him, so vacant but so full of fragile, ancient agony, just waiting to spill out. He feels like he's staring down death.

Maybe he is.

How many lives has Yoruhua taken, as Void Gear? And before that, as a creature of pure Darkness?

In an era where keyblades hadn't been created yet; the first, baby Lights unable to defend themselves against hoards of Darkness.

Her one blue eye has always upset him- how illfitting and horribly familiar it was. It was filled with Light; it made his skin crawl when she looked at him. As if she could find him anywhere and always would. He always expected her to see him for what he really was eventually, like all the other Lights. Just another disgusted, hateful, or scared holy blue added to a growing chest full of ultramarine.

But it never came.

He looks at Vanitas, and his blue eye never averts. Only staring at him with unbridled attention and... Care.

It wasn't pity; just care and attention. It tracks him because it didn't want him out of its loyal sight; Yoruhua was afraid of loosing him. She watches him because it brought her comfort, because she was protecting him.

Not because he needed it, but because she did. Not willing to loose her one connection to the real world in eons.

And then he realized; it wasn't just like the Lights. There was only one other blue eye, recognizable sapphire instead of lapis just as ancient as hers, that he felt- not a fondness, but trust, reliability- when it looked at him. Void Gear.

The realization made him sick to his stomach. He hadn't lost it, his keyblade, he hadn't lost her. His one true companion, and constant since he was brought into this world.

Maybe it wasn't Wayward Wind, and maybe he hated her at first for not being his original keyblade, the one born of his heart and made for his palm. He blamed her, as if she was a symbol of all his failures and proof that he wasn't worthy of reclaiming his old identity. The only keyblade fit for a monster like himself, equally rejected by the Light.

She never belonged to him, but was lent to him. She, a dying keyblade without a wielder, and he a doomed wielder without a keyblade.

A pact made out of survival rather than trust or worthiness.

Haunting sapphire forever forced to silently serve possessed ruby turned tyrant topaz.

Regardless of his vitriol and violence, how he abused the blade in day and night. Refusing to properly maintain the blade as a punishment for the both of them. Waiting for the blade to finally give up on him and break during battle; she stubbornly stuck by him.

Till the bitter end.

And still does now.

She's watching him, like she would when he'd sleep, or when he'd be caught in a fight. Never sparing a look at his opponent, only him. Wondering if he'd make it out unscathed.

But this look, this old, detached rage.

He didn't want to be right this time; all blue eyes would come to hate him eventually.

They always do.

Both of them don't say anything. Vanitas doesn't have the guts, and Yoruhua knew that once she did- she wouldn't be able to stop the floodgates.

Then...

in the distance-

-THUNDER!

"Shit!" Vanitas jumps, turning to see another flash of jagged lightning striking a far off mountain and away from their staring contest.

He doesn't realize his mistakes until it's too late.

The sudden movement, the fact that he looks human, his uniform particularly triggering, the loud thunder and blinding lightning-!

Yoruhua finally snaps, unable to reign in the destructive wildfire festering in their body.

They char within hungry rage, eager to swallow them back in and sink it's teeth into his battered body. Like slipping into an old shoe, he fits in its between its protective fangs perfectly.

Bones snap to relieve the building pressure inside, allowing Darkness to reshape itself into something bigger and meaner.

Vanitas gets the wind knocked outta him, thrown into flooded streets.

"Ahugh-!?"

He twitches on the ground, unable to think straight while so lightheaded. Water soaks into his expose hair and face, the rain has no mercy; filling up his nose and ears.

The shadow cast over his body is what tells him Yoruhua stands above him; hanging oppressively tall and dead silent.

Their sharp golden feet barely make a sound, the ripples following their long strides disrupting the flow of floodwater in front of his face. It gives him a second's reprieve to surface his face to for desperate gulps of humid air.

Uncomfortable cooling droplets fall down from his black hair to his face. He tries to wipe it away to see better, but it's a pointless endeavour while vulnerable in the middle of the storm.

His lungs tremble inside; wracked with exhaustion and heavy pain. A deep bruise settling over his chest where he was struck by pure muscle.

Heaving, he brings a hand to cover his face, about to yell at her for hitting him in the first place, when he finally looks up.

Endless black hollowness.

He stifles a swear. Looking directly at her was a mistake.

As a pure Dark being, Yoruhua has no face and her body was the epitome of her entire existence; Instead it's a hollowed out heart with curled heart shaped horns ending into a sharp point. Long claw like hair tiredly falling down their back. Ending with an upsidedown crown choking their neck. But, with no mouth or nose to breath, her cries have nowhere to go.

The same atrophied, spindly hands- now thin claws- wrap around under their shoulders. A warped mimicry of a hug, or strangulation. Kept in place by white leather belts and golden chains, preventing them from reaching out. Unable to defend a larger heart shaped hollow on their chest, much like an other Darkside. The rain passes through them as if she isn't real; nothing to be concerned about with little impact on the world around them.

Small bat like wings peak from his hips, sharp enough to cut anything trying to get close, but are rendered useless by the long, heavy dragging tail behind them. It almost looks painful to carry, in contrast with the much thinner and weak looking body. It's awkward, really. The sharp halberd point adding unnecessary violence.

The silhouette reminding him of mixture of various monsters made of Darkness, the Heartless, Nightmares, Unversed and the emptiness of a Nobody. But no where did he see a unique mark.

Fitting, considering Vanitas had no idea what Yoruhua really was; she refused to fit into any one definition since he met her.

< When.... When does this end...? >

Vanitas cringes, the sound of Yoruhua's... Voice, grates in his mind. Like it was trying to scrape its meaning into his soft brain with a jagged rock.

But he recovers fast enough, this time, he knew what to expect and could adjust.

His own voice comes out haggard, "you're gonna... 'ave t'be more clear.... 'bout that..."

He couldn't fight back like this, so against his gut instincts he didn't move. Glaring at her gold crown instead.

Wind blows through her hollow face, whipping past to sound like clamoring howl.

< When does it end? > Yoruhua asks.

Vanitas shakes his head annoyed, "I... I don't k-know what you mean!"

One of their hair claws crack like a wip, dredging him up by the neck to force him to look at them.

< WHEN DOES IT ALL END?! >

Vanitas bites down a yell, the loudness pounding against his skull. Angry now, himself, he tries to fight back.

He repeatedly claws at the hair around his throat, even his his fingers just keep slipping through, he doesn't stop trying to break free.

This isn't how he wanted this to play out; he wanted to see the extent of their Darkness, but not with it turned against him like this.

At first he just wanted their power for himself; wanted them to revert back into a sapphire eye caged in black steel for him to wield again. But now he wanted nothing to do with it. Not whole they were possessed by lapis, it looked wrong on them, like they were at its mercy rather than the other way around.

They'd promised to share their shadow with him, but this? This was just their stygian rage.

"I DON'T KNOW! MAYBE IT NEVER WILL!" he spits in their face. Braving the emptiness. He needed to dredge that sapphire out of them instead of endless black.

He manages to wrap a hand around their hair, clutching it tight together hoping it hurt, "it'll never end at this rate, so get yourself together! You don't get to complain to me, of all fucking people, for it to end!"

He pulls on the hair, tugging her head forward by just a bit. He hears and sees nothing; no breathing, no eyes.

Regardless, "I was finished. I was fucking done, Yoruhua! You were the one to bring me back, to drag me with you on this stupid quest, and keep us safe- It's your fault we're both still here!"

He screams in her face, "so don't you dare give up, and finish was you started!"

The monster in front of him recoils, its horns point towards him and graze his cheek as it withers in anguish.

< All of this, was a mistake. >

He barely flinches when blood spills from the cut but her words gut his stomach more painful more than any wound, a horrible sadness and indignation settling.

He used to be jealous of them; of the fact they never seemed to hate themselves as much as he did himself.

He hated being wrong, he hated being wrong so much more than he liked being being right.

He was a mistake. He never should've come back,

And neither, apparently, should've Yoruhua.

No... he thinks, after everything he's done? It can't have been for nothing.

Just like Vanitas; even where everything but the end goal was pointless, it was that one goal that gave him enough to keep going. His was the X-Blade and the peace that came with it, and he failed, so death was his consolation prize.

If Yoruhua refused to give that back to him, they owed it to repay him with something far greater.

Her own quest, to save her Light. To become whole.

Well, maybe he wanted to see the product of that.

And maybe... Maybe that would sustain him, to live through vicariously.

Yoruhua was more like him than he wanted to admit; chasing after the right to exist without pain. And she might just be able to do what he could not. She's done it before, so there was no way he'd believe she'd just stop trying when they've already done the hardest part of doing the impossible. That was just illogical.

Bitterly, he seethes, "Aren't you the one who said... Coming back was yours greatest moment? I thought you reveled in your existance."

< ... >

Vanitas scoffs a humorless laugh, the rain easily drowns it out, but Yoruhua is close enough to hear the mocking sound.

Their grip on Vanitas tightens around his throat, ready to squeeze the life out of him.

This death, could never live up to the first. He was a dying wielder, and they a doomed keyblade.

Well, even in this greatest betrayal, he refused to give her the last laugh.

"So much for your pride, Void Gear." He hissed. Never breaking contact with the shadow of his former sister, even as spots started to fill his vision and his body seized in her traitorous strangle.

What I am is Darkness, so to it I'll always return.

...

......

.........

Faintly, he can hear rain. It's a soft pitter patter against glass; nothing like the aggressive deluge of before.

The air is cool; not humid like before. Brisk, even. He wondered why, but nothing makes sense in the Realm of Darkness.

The wood beneath him is smooth and just as cold. A thin sheet under his body reminding him of the one he kept within his shelter in the Graveyard. Entirely impersonal.

He tries to get a gulp of air, but his throat trembles in weakness. It's scratchy and just shy of turning into a sore throat soon. He regrets it almost immediately. But a whiff of something in the air shakes off his grogginess instantly.

Faint Petrichor... bittersweet, burnt chocolate almost coffee like?... And thick smoky copal...

He almost chokes on it, which thankfully he doesn't; it would have made the tightness in his throat so much worse.

He doesn't have the strength to move his neck, let alone his body, stars, he's light headed...

His eyelids feel so heavy... And the familiar scent so comforting...

Maybe, he can go back and rest.

So he allows his eyes to droop, resting with his eyes closed for a few minutes. Entirely unaware of what conspired before this moment other an exhaustive hate.

Now was his time to rest.

He manages to turns on his side, using his arm to cushion his head, and the other to reach out for-

-Void... Regalia...?

Too tired to ponder if it was the right name, he accepts the summoned keyblade. It fits perfectly in his grasp, and that's enough to ease him back into a dreamless sleep.

The keyblade's resigned sapphire eye faithfully watches over him, quietly. Like it had hundreds of times before.

#kh #kingdom hearts #kh fanfic #kh vanitas #kh oc #starry stories #JESUS CHRIST THIS WAS A BEAST TO DO AND I JUST CUT IT SHORT LOLLLLL #Sorry ive been working on this for a while all on the tumblr app itself that where i usually do #this is not the norm but we were already in deep soooo #anyways please enjoy this angsty mess it was done on pure vibes alone #good night it is 5 am back to ponied #ponies* god mm a mess excuse typos lol #i really do be throwing vanitas against the wall soaked in milk huh #sorry boy ur a ragdoll now my b its just to fun to see him have to be taken care of/manhandled by Yoru cause shes almost 2x his hight #im not kidding. yoru is taller than any other kh character bc i said so #which means hes probably like. 7'5 or smth #allowed tho cause they're a homunculus lol #meanwhile Ori is- *gunshot* sorry no one is allowed to know until we get the Ori chapter actually

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