some of y’all with printed copies of fanfiction are going to die someday and your books will end up at the secondhand book shop and someone is just going to innocently pick up blorbo/shitto enemies to lovers and when i think of it this way let’s keep printing fanfiction
Bring Him to his Knees: Man's tailor deserves an award for the generous inseam sewn in his trousers.
It's the Great British Sewing Bee meets @unhelpfuldramionesummaries. We all know what Draco is packing, don't we? Thank you @willhavetheirtrinkets for the endless daydreams...
No seriously I’m loving it. I’m on my second day of binging and I’m about 30 percent in and I already knows it’s one of my favourites if not already. The concept is just SO unique and I just LOVE this adaption of Draco. The scenes on the fleet were so creative and captivating. I could totally imagine it as a TV Series. The fleet being season one and I’ve just arrived at the manor so I’m moving into season two ahah. But it’s seriously a great piece of work. @rizzlewrites is extremely intelligent with her words and her plot writing skills are incredible. I’ve been blogging on my private story on Snapchat as I’ve been going along and my friends that have never even read anything dramione are wanting to pick up and read. Well done rizzle for capturing such a cool, different universe inside our already favourite one.🤍
Malicia- “ill-will or hatred toward another; a desire to vex or injure.”
“If it was tangible, and could take shape; it would take the shape of a boomerang.” That’s what Charley Reese told us. I find the shape it takes is in the form of karma.
Le temps nous dépasse et continue de nous fasciner.
That was what Narcissa Malfoy told her son. She told him this when he was an impatient baby. She told him this when he was an angry adolescent. She told him this whilst standing before the blueprints of a knackered, old vanishing cabinet in his youth.
One thing he did not have in this present moment was time.
Draco Malfoy was running a race. He couldn’t turn around to see who was chasing him. He didn’t have time, to see that it was time on his tail sprinting after him, long legged.
His legs hauled him into the corridors of the manor, ring scalding on his finger. Bursting open the double doors of the bedroom chambers he could feel time shiver over his skin. Draco and his wife are one of mind. But one thing that they share too closely, is that they’re both cursed.
Astoria Greengrass’ curse was purely physical, whilst Draco Malfoy was cursed with time.
His friends and family called it tragic, whilst others called it bad karma. He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t think on it because he simply does not have time.
Le temps nous dépasse et continue de nous fasciner.
Time exceeds us and continues to fascinate us.
That’s what Draco was thinking at this moment in time. Head reeling, as he mutters a counter curse to siphon the poison out of the arm that belongs to the mother of his child. He learned through his seventh year at school that there was a fine line between fascination and devastation. “Do not play with fire if you do not wish to be burned.” Was what Theodore Nott told him that year. Maybe if he had of taken the advice, he would not be praying to an unknown God at his bedside whilst holding a limp, alabaster arm in his hands as the words strung out of him.
As time rushed the days and nights on, the incidents were becoming a common occurrence.
On this warm August evening, time finally caught him…
Dragging him down, down, down into a stupor.
Now that time had caught him and the game was over, he lost track of it. He couldn’t comprehend how much of it he would spend kneeling beside that head stone.
Minutes, hours, days,
People came and went, feeding him lie after lie.
They told him time heals all wounds, but that assumes that the source of the grief is finite.