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love how me posting my plushies somehow managed to make me consider a magical warrior / superhero au... the precure love is stronger than the sensibilitu
#tori talks#it may or may not be happening uwu#i might keep the same ages as oblivion or change things#maybe they'll be high schoolers#only god knows#did and dont as Normal Guys that get ambushed by a Cute Lil Guy Mascot just like every other character#lifty and shifty's mascot has to bribe them with money and assures them their transformation trinkets will be shiny#flippy isnt sure about it but fliqpy is like 'hell yeah im gonna kill all the monsters' and so he just agrees to it#i have a couple of ideas already teehee
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curiosity (an outsider)
Augustine sighed, leaning back against the wall. There was still a crush of fans outside the gym. Reinhardt had slipped out around the back door, intent on heading to the Neon Stein to ask Oblivion for help leaving. Riven and Sebastian were entertaining Neyuni, while Mathye was tending an injury on Sebastian’s back.
“Hey.” Augustine blinked, jolted out of his thoughts. Yaana was in front of him. Her arms were crossed and her tail was twitching.
“Yes?” Yaana didn’t answer. Instead her eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward to scrutinize Augustine.
“…You’re like the real deal. I mean—you already were, but even more so!” She exclaimed. “Like an honest-to-goodness real knight from out of the histories and fairietales! No wonder a lot of the fans are going nuts! Aside from those good looks.” Augustine blinked at the Hhetsaro.
“Thank you?” Then he frowned as the rest of Yaana’s words sank in. “Wait. Are knights not a rank of the military here?”
“Haven’t been for centuries, least that’s what I remember from my schooling.” Yaana gestured. “In fact, there’s not that many actual living people in the army in the first place. They’re mostly there to just order the machines around.” She frowned. “Guess that might change now, what with the pipsqueak in charge and the Dawnservants helping him. Not many people feel safe with what’s left of the machine army guarding things.”
“I see.” Augustine replied, careful to keep his voice neutral. Memories flashed though his mind of robot Otis, and a pang of grief made his heart twist. Yaana continued, and Augustine gratefully forced his attention back towards the teenager.
“There’s something I was meaning to ask one of you about. I remember our parents used to tell us stories, and one of them was about warlords across the salt. Is it true all they ever do is fight over there?” The paladin blinked in surprise, then chuckled weakly.
“Well…” Gods, Yaana’s parents weren’t technically wrong, but at the same time… “It…depends on the location. And up until recently, much of the fighting has been to keep invaders out. Except for where Mat, Reinhardt and I are from. We were in a thousand-year war against dragons.”
“Wait, that part wasn’t a lie?!” Yaana exclaimed. “Folk here said Oblivion’d been talking about that! That you and those other two been trained from birth to fight—and dragons are real?! They’re really real?!”
“I wouldn’t say trained from birth…and yes. Dragons are real.” Augustine replied. At least on the Source. “But as for myself and Reinhardt—while our situations were different, we were Neyuni’s age when we first started to learn how to fight. And I was your age when I went to the Bloodsands for further training.”
“Bloodsands?” Yaana repeated.
“Our…well, version of the Arcadion.” Augustine explained. “Only minus the regulators, technology…it’s gladiatorial combat.”
“Hold on! You mean like…the old, old, old ways?!” Yaana screeched. The ruckus got the attention of Riven and the others, who turned their heads as the rookie fighter continued.
“Like fight to the actual death against beasts and other people?! You trained in that?!”
“Not so much fight to the death anymore, they changed that some time before I started.” Augustine struggled to not laugh at the shocked look on Yaana’s face. “But yes. There were other fighters, fiends…I remember hearing that well before my time, they used to flood the area to even have mock navel battles.”
“Holy shit!” Yaana crossed her arms, considering the paladin. “I suppose then fighting here’s a piece of cake then.” To her surprise, Augustine shook his head.
“Fighting anywhere is dangerous.” He said. “Only a fool goes into battle thinking that they’re invincible and they’ve seen it all. I’ve lost my fair share of battles and expect to lose many more. Some will be because I’ve not encountered that type of enemy before, others will be because my skill may not be on par with my foe.”
“And you’re not afraid to die?” Yaana asked. Augustine paused for a few moments, considering the question. He inhaled, then exhaled.
“I am.” He admitted. “But…you get used to the idea. When you’re a soldier, it’s a fact of life. You might get lucky, you might not.” Yaana watched as his eyes flicked towards Riven, then at the others.
“If I could die protecting the ones I loved, it would be an honorable death.”
“An honorable death.” Yaana repeated. “Is there such a thing?”
“It would depend on what you consider honor to be.” Augustine replied.
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Kingdom Hearts: Nobody Anatomy, Physiology, Psychology, Ontology??? headcanons
saw people talking about more monstrous Nobodies a bit ago (okay it was a long while ago at this point, this has been in drafts for ages) and that reminded me to share some of my thoughts. it spiraled kind of out of control and now this post is ridiculously long. three parts: the physical side, the less physical side, and other thoughts. most of it’s under the cut. enjoy
The physical side
All of these apply to ALL Nobodies, not just the funny squiggly ones.
Alrighty, here’s my proposal: Nobodies don’t have any internal organs. Even the ones that retain their human form. They may look and act like they’ve got regular human body processes, but I like to think that it’s just a hollow imitation. This is why every single Nobody has an absolutely snatched waist
So they’d lack both their metaphysical hearts and their real hearts!
The Organization was founded by a bunch of researchers who got into this mess via unethical human experimentation so you know they tried to pin down the specifics of Nobody biology early on, but every time they tried to use any medical equipment it would come up empty or just straight up not work. And then none of them were willing to get vivisected for the cause lmao
I think the greater Nobodies (human-shaped ones) are made up of the same weird, rubbery flexible stuff that lesser Nobodies are, but just don’t have that flexibility because hey! They’ve got a human form to maintain! They may seem human, but on a biological level, they’re closer to the squiggly guys than an actual human. This is why it’s possible for Xemnas to turn greater Nobodies into Dusks. We never see him do it, but I doubt it’s an empty threat. I don’t think there were any other greater Nobodies in the Organization in the past, but he’s probably transformed one of the specialized Nobodies, like a Dancer or Dragoon, into one of the lowest-ranked ones, like Dusks or Creepers or something.
All Nobodies have the Nobody sigil somewhere on them. For lesser Nobodies it’s easily visible, but for greater Nobodies, it’s on their backs, and since they’re always wearing those coats, no one ever sees it.
If a Nobody is cut, they don’t bleed- instead, little wisps of darkness leak out of the wound, like what happens in the Org’s death animations but on a smaller scale. They can heal faster than regular humans thanks to ✨something something darkness and nothingness✨.
Though Nobodies are supposedly shunned by both light and darkness, they are more aligned with dark than light. Any Nobody can wield light, not just Roxas (as shown by Zexion in Chain of Memories), but it takes great difficulty. However, they can wield darkness with ease.
Nobodies do need to sleep as regularly as humans, but can last much longer without food or water. Rest? Yes! Nutrience? Unimportant
They have no body heat- that’s a corpse, baby!!! That does bring up some questions about thermoregulation. I don’t feel like thinking about it tbh. There’s lots of questions in this vein: can Nobodies get drunk? I think they probably can’t. In 358/2 Days, Demyx says “Wait, training!? That sounds like work, which means sweating. Which is gross.” and that... complicates things! I could chalk it up to how a lot of people in Organization XIII have a tendency to keep acting like they’re humans and nothing’s changed, even though it has.
Nobodies are “born” in any world in the Realm Between. Roxas first appeared in Twilight Town, but some might have shown up by Castle Oblivion, or even the Mysterious Tower (god bless). Showing up in The World That Never Was is probably the most common.
The less physical side
It’s quite an unlikely coincidence that every apprentice of Ansem the Wise had a standout, super strong heart that allowed them to retain their human forms as Nobodies. I think it had something to do with being stabbed by a keyblade, not just their wills alone. That would also align with 9-12 being tied to a keyblade legacy. A strong will is important, yes, but you only get to be human-looking if there was a keyblade involved.
In a Nobody, the most important part of this will is the will to live. Should that ever wane, they Nobody will begin to destabilize, and eventually, they will return to nothingness.
Nobodies have hearts, and they do not have hearts. They have feelings, and they do not have feelings. It’s like the observer effect in quantum mechanics. Anyone who can sense hearts or feelings or whatever will not be able to sense anything from a Nobody, no matter how far along in development that heart may be, reinforcing the belief that yeah there’s nothing there. But there is... and also there isn’t. Both statements are true. A friend described it as “Schrödinger’s Feelings” and it’s the most accurate “Schrodinger’s ____” joke I’ve ever seen made. Someone else described it as depression which is also accurate (source: i’ve had depression). There are bouts of emotion occasionally, but those emotions are dulled (and usually negative) and most of the time there’s only suffocating apathy.
There is some truth to the statement that Nobodies’ feelings are simply recreations of what they might’ve felt back when they had hearts, but it’s also bogus. Memories are important to the makeup of a Nobody, but that statement is often used as an excuse that covers up the reality that there was a feeling there. It’s very easy to lie to yourself when there’s mostly data supporting your argument and any evidence against is less common and easily disputed by “logic” like this.
The most prominent ��feelings” in Nobodies are an intense sense of longing and dissatisfaction. For some, the longing is for a heart, but for others it is aimless. That was the idea behind all the Nobodies having little hobbies like cooking and puzzles and reading magazines in the manga. They’re trying to fill that void with anything they can.
In one of the novels, Demyx, #1 proponent of the idea that Nobodies do have hearts actually, gives us this:
I play and play, but I can’t make a satisfying sound.
In truth, I know I won’t be satisfied in all eternity.
If you don’t have a heart, there’s no such thing as satisfaction.
You don’t even think you want to be satisfied.
And yeah, the novels aren’t canon, but it’s still interesting to see and think about. Nothing you do is good enough to fill that emptiness, but you can barely bring yourself to care about it anyway. Yep, depression!
Nobodies are prone to a high amount of introspection. It’s an inherited trait all Nobodies share- if you manage to survive past humanity in a bizarre fucked up state like this, you’re naturally going to be thinking about it. However, they’re all also incredibly bad at it, and generally do a horrible job at self-reflection. This is just an unfortunate coincidence
A Nobody can regrow a heart if they make connections, and are seen and acknowledged by others. Pretty sure that’s just canon. HOWEVER, Nobodies cannot help each other grow hearts- this is why none of the Organization regrew hearts after 10 years of being around each other, and despite connections within the group. 0+0 is still 0, after all. That’s what makes the policy of going undetected on missions so insidious. They’re never allowed the chance to regrow a heart. I’ve already talked about it somewhere else, but this is why Roxas grows a heart so fast- he ignores that rule, for the most part. Axel’s interactions with Sora are also what kickstarts his heart growth.
Hypothetically, since someone doesn’t have to remember a memory for Castle Oblivion to draw on it, the mechanics with the cards and the rooms could have been used to help Xemnas recall his past- considering how much time he spent talking to Aqua’s armor, I think that’s something he might’ve been interested in. HOWEVER! Since the Twilight Town card came from the memories on the other side of Sora’s heart, I propose that the properties of Castle Oblivion would have no effect on Nobodies. RIP.
Other thoughts
I’m not saying Ansem the Wise and Yensid were right about Nobodies! I do think they’re different from humans on a fundamental level, but demonizing them is Not Cool
On the idea that Nobodies aren’t meant to exist: Well. Just like before it’s total bogus bc the main perpetrators of that idea were either bigoted about it or liars or both but I think it’s a little more complicated than “everyone is flat wrong about this”. Nobodies are essentially naturally-occurring byproducts of Heartless. Most Nobodies (or, at least, the lesser ones, based on that one cutscene in kh2 where hearts rain down on The World That Never Was and we see a bunch of Dusks grasping for them) seem to have a drive to reclaim the heart they’ve lost- if reclaimed, that would mean they wouldn’t be a Nobody anymore. Creatures born in worlds of neither light nor darkness, created only through the destruction of another and only some of the time, who don’t even want to exist like this themselves... that’s what “Nobodies aren’t meant to exist” means to me, I think. BEAR IN MIND “MEANT” IS NOT THE SAME AS “DESERVE”
And then! There’s Nobodies who defy that! Or, uh, Nobody, singular. Roxas goes “bro I don’t care I want to exist as I am” and he does that (Naminé... didn’t really seem to share that opinion, if I’m remembering correctly. Probably because DiZ hammered it into her head that she didn’t deserve to exist). I wish we had seen something like that from one of the regular Nobodies- why should recompletion and/or regaining a heart be the ideal? Why do they have to die again in order to be “right”? It just further perpetuates that idea DiZ and Yensid pushed in kh2: Nobodies are Wrong and shouldn’t be around. Unless you’re special like Roxas or Naminé in which case it’s okay. But for everyone else it’s recomplete or bust... anyway this is a tangent I did not mean to go on with this post-
I think it’s interesting, how they’re made of nothingness and their existence is “nonexistent”. Nothingness is, as an element, something, as opposed to true nothing, which is the absence of anything. Nonexistence implies existence. It’s like how in math, sometimes an answer to a problem will be DNE-- that’s Nobodies, and “nothingness”. “Does not exist”, but in writing the answer, it does exist, as a nonexistent entity. As opposed to just... not having a math problem at all, and therefore not having a place to write a solution. That is true nothingness- all the Nobodies of people whose hearts weren’t strong enough to create Nobodies fall under this category. They don’t exist for real. Nothing as something vs nothing as nothing- ah fuck I just realized this is the second time I’ve used a math analogy for kingdom hearts. shit
in conclusion
that’s all of it. probably. i like nobodies a whole lot. now that i’m thinking about it i should’ve made this multiple posts instead of one huge one. if you read all of this you earn my undying love
#kingdom hearts#kh#organization xiii#nobodies#kh headcanons#me post#i dont expect anyone to reblog this one lmao#but it would be nice if someone read it#i spent a stupid amount of time thinking about this#oh my god wait#0+0=0 is technically also a math analogy#fuck ive done this three times#and with the mention of quantum mechanics this post outs me as a super turbo nerd multiple times
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"Que sera, sera" - Morpheus x Wisdom!Reader
[TW: grief/loss of a child]
Pillars of Eternity Universe: [Pillars of Eternity] [The Just and the Wicked] || [Sandman-inspired playlist]
SUMMARY: Following his invitation, Morpheus and Wisdom visit Time on the Seas of Oblivion. What seemed like a social call, turns out to be a call for help.
WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.5k
[Been gone for a while but look, guys, I just started a new term and I'm 'plotting' another novel.] I recommend listening to "To the Moon and Beyond" by Gavin Luke while reading
How have you been while I was gone? Oh, I'm pleased to hear that! Shangri-La was lovely, thank you. The tree where the Spear of Ages resided for centuries is still growing strong. The swing my parents hung on one of the branches is still there. It's a wonderful thing that our world keeps changing and Shangri-La refuses to.
I'm still weary from my travel, so I'll tell you a shorter story today if you don't mind. I don't have as much vigour as I used to have in my younger years, I'm sorry, dear student. But despite the tale not being as long as the previous ones, I promise it is just as thrilling. It's about Dream and Wisdom, after all!
Before we start, have you ever heard people say they're running out of time? Ha! It always amuses me just the same. As if an ocean could run out of water! Hear me, little student, and remember this: water slips through your fingers because you're not holding it properly. Learn to handle time, become friends with it and not try to be its master. Befriending Time would be easier for people if they met that lovely old fellow...
Morpheus only heard stories about the Seas of Oblivion. He's never actually seen them, mainly because until now he had been unable to. Those uncharted waters lay beyond realms he was able to reach. Even dreams, as it appeared, were confined to a certain space but more importantly - they were bound to the grains of sand inside the hourglass and so was he. Morpheus may have been Endless but he wasn't Timeless like you.
"Seas of Oblivion are treacherous waters, dearest,” you warned him. “Underneath those sapphire waves lay memories of countless souls. The more vividly they are remembered by the living, the more vivid they appear: they might look alive, they might sound alive, they might even act like they're alive. But they are only an echo of somebody’s love."
With a blink of an eye, quite literally, Morpheus had found himself standing on a trawler, on the open sea. Cold water and salt spraying his face. A faint yet distinct aroma of algae and sludge filled his nostrils. The waters around him were about as black as the sky and if it wasn’t for the breathtaking aurora borealis, it would be quite impossible to tell where the horizon lay. There were neither stars nor moon nor planets above him - only stripes of beautiful colours so strange he wasn’t sure he could ever name them. The longer Morpheus stared at the lights the more he began noticing just how impossible they were in the way colours glided into different shades; the blues were purple after a while but when he focused a little more, he became sure that the lights were actually green. Or maybe yellow? They weren’t any colour he knew all the while shining in every shade he could possibly imagine.
His eyes, or maybe Morpheus himself, grew tired of the troubling aurora borealis and turned to examine the infamous waters. It’s hard to say whether he thought about it at the moment but in that cycle of life, he was to be the only Endless to ever see them. The impenetrable black waters were strangely shimmery as though there were silver particles drifting along the waves. Sometimes, he thought that the glimmering oddments took on meaningful shapes, only to scatter once more the moment he blinked. If he could only look at it a little longer, a little closer…
"Don't stare too long at the water.” Your words pulled him out of that strange headspace that lured him into leaning dangerously far out the side. “ It's hard to say what will stare back."
Understanding the seriousness of your warning, Morpheus looked up, away from the murky ocean but then his stare lay on something equally suspicious and thought-provoking: a black, slimy rock protruding from the indigo waters. As far as an eye could see, there was nothing resembling land. At first, the formation looked completely inconspicuous and perhaps that’s exactly why Dream’s gaze lingered on this black lump of slime - it was a little too unobtrusive.
Then, a yellow, fishy eye appeared on the surface of what Morpheus had assumed was a rock. A black rhomboid pupil stared at the Lord of Dreams with animalistic blankness as though the sea monster had the privilege of never entertaining even a single thought. Considering the distance between the yellow ocular and the boat, the eyeball itself must have been around Dream’s height in diameter. Morpheus felt a delicate shiver travelling down his spine: if that was only the eye, how big was its owner?
“Good day to you too, Charon,” you called out to the monstrum.
The beast let out a whale-like whine, then a low grumble before slowly submerging. Its yellow eye continued to stalk the floating boat.
“That is Charon?” Morpheus asked with a sense of wonder in his voice.
“Human legends do not do him justice, I agree. As they repeated the story of Time, Charon and Seas of Oblivion, the tale must have twisted and people now speak of Charon sailing Styx and a terrifying Leviathan lurking below the waves. Time should be down in the cabin.”
You turned the knob and the lock clicked. Although quiet, the Seas of Oblivion were exceptionally peaceful, so the sound of doors opening was well-audible. The two of you were about to go down the narrow steps leading to Time’s cabin when suddenly:
"Father?”
That voice… If Morpheus had a heart, it would stop beating at that very moment.
Sitting on the side of the ship, you saw a boy, barely old enough to be called a young man, with curly brown hair and an eagle nose. The tunic he was wearing was torn in many places with seaweed sticking to the material as well as his curls. He was absolutely drenched, black water dripping onto the deck of the trawler.
“Is that you?" the boy asked in a wavering, hopeful voice.
You put your hand on his shoulder and Morpheus winced slightly, suddenly and unexpectedly all the more aware of the reality surrounding him. "He's not real,” you whispered in a soft voice. “Not in the way you'd want him to be. I'm sorry."
Morpheus heard himself quietly gasp as Charon’s black, slimy tentacle wrapped around the physique of his late son, pulling the spectre under the tide. The Seas of Oblivion were quiet once more.
“I’m sorry,” you repeated while tightly holding his arm.
He didn’t answer. In the colourful light of the aurora borealis above you, his teary, bloodshot eyes glistened in a way that was both heartbreaking and poetically captivating. The thought of picking a fight with your siblings passed through your mind - you could undo this even if you shouldn't - but you discarded this idea about as swiftly as it had appeared. Impulse was unwise. Morpheus squeezed your hand and directed his steps down the stairs leading to the only cabin on the trawler. His silence was deafening.
Entering the inside of the trawler, guests were welcomed with a broken, old radio playing the chorus of one song on a loop. From the depths of the cabin, a hoarse, pleasant voice quietly sang along:
Que sera, sera Whatever will be, will be The future's not ours to see Que sera, sera What will be, will be
“Oh, there you are!” Time exclaimed in a raspy voice the moment Morpheus and you entered the small connecting room with a table and four barrels-turned-chairs.
The old man looked like the stereotypical sea dog: pearly white hair, a hat, calloused hands, wellies and a raincoat, even if it didn't rain in this part of the universe. As it so appeared, you had interrupted him while Time was sharpening an oyster knife. His steel eyes were barely visible as he smiled wide at you and chicken feet decorated his bright, wrinkly features.
“It’s so nice to see another face! Put the kettle on, will you? And grab something to eat out of the cupboard, dear.”
Morpheus sat across the table from Time as you walked farther into the cabin. Waiting for the turquoise kettle to whistle you looked for the aforementioned food. The inside of the cupboard was exactly what you had expected: oranges, sardines and jerky. Unchanged cuisine of Seas of Oblivion since, quite literally, the beginning of time. An amused sigh left your lips as you grabbed a few of each. Little did you know, Time had a good reason to ask you to complete this little quest for tea:
“Can you keep a secret, Lord of Dreams and Nightmares?” Time quietly asked when you were out of earshot.
“I know countless of them.”
“Good because Wisdom would hate for me to tell you this but seeing your pain hurts my old heart. Hear me, Dream of the Endless, just a sip out of the Seas of Oblivion can make you forget all that sorrow you carry. It will not change the past and its consequences but make the very fibre of your existence forget about it. You do not have to suffer.”
Morpheus stared at him for a moment, clearly pondering the extraordinary claim. He was seriously entertaining that thought. “Thank you, I…” he hung his voice for a moment, “Maybe one day.”
Just as he gave Time his answer, you entered the connecting room with the kettle in one hand and a less-than-impressive choice of food in the other. The oranges, jerky and sardines were piled up on your hand in a suspiciously physics-defying way but it would be a ridiculous lie to say that either of the men was even a little bit surprised. Their worlds were a lot stranger than the convenient ignoring of gravity.
Without asking him to, Morpheus got up from his seat only to take some of the things out of your hand and put them on the table. Watching the boiling water pour into the mug, you began the conversation: “How are you doing, Time? I hear that humid air is bad for joints.”
The man only laughed. “So is old age, dear Wisdom. I am doing just fine. The Seas are calm, the echos rarely make themselves known… It’s peaceful out here. Some days I think I don’t want my sail to end.”
"Why's that?" Morpheus asked him. To him, such reality sounded like a pipe dream and he tried his best to chase those bleak thoughts away.
"I grew to like this stubborn boy.” Time vaguely pointed at the small, circular window to your right. Out there, among black waves of the Seas of Oblivion, you noticed Charon’s tentacles peaking above the impenetrable waters every now and then. “Maybe he looks imposing and isn't exactly pretty but he's got a heart of gold, I tell you that. And to think that when I come alongside he will be unmade.” Time sighed and shook his head. Yes, that day must arrive no matter how unwelcome - the day he finishes his journey and another cycle must begin. “Speaking of Charon, he’s been strange lately as if he had fallen ill, all fussy and crabby... Or maybe he’s going to be?” Out of frustration, Time took off his cap and scratched his balding head. “You have to forgive me, old age makes me a little confused about timelines. On bad days, like today I suppose, it’s hard for me to tell future and past apart.”
“It’s alright,” you reassured him as you sat down next to Morpheus, across from your host. “Recently, one of the Palaces of Justice died. Perhaps that had made Charon unwell.”
"Oh, fiddlesticks! I didn't know they can die. Well, a time comes for everyone, I suppose." Time snickered at his own pun. “Truthfully, Charon is the reason I asked you to come.”
You furrowed your eyebrows. “Had something happened to him?”
“I think he’s just… lonely. He needs a friend. Endless seas and just one, poor, little Charon. I’d hate for him to grow bitter, he’s lovely if a bit tough on the outside.”
A quiet, repetitive cracking resounded in the room - it was Papsukkal, one of your crows, snacking on shelled peanuts spilling out of a massive bag placed in the corner near the stairs. Perhaps magical but he was a crow nonetheless and that meant peanuts had power over him. Used to the ever-present voice of Doris Day, you stopped even noticing the repetitive music coming from the scratchy-sounding radio.
"Why haven't you asked Aether?" you coaxed. It was no secret that your sister would be a better choice to ask such a favour.
The old man shook his head in a defeated manner. He let out a tired sigh before answering. "Wherever she goes, Abyss follows. I'm afraid she wouldn't quite understand this loneliness."
You raised your eyebrows at the bold implication. "Should I?"
Time’s steel eyes stared at you with a mildness that befits only people of ancient age. His calloused hand scratched his pearly white beard. "Only you can answer that,” he stated with a certain disinterest in his voice as though you had just asked him a question he could never even begin formulating a response to.
"I know the secret of Aether's power,” you said after a moment of silence. “I can imitate it but not recreate. Whatever ‘friend’ I make for Charon will appear alive and perfectly normal but will remain soulless. Such a creature will lack autonomy and awareness, doing only what it is told. Nothing more and nothing less. It will neither feel nor think,” you warned him.
“Please,” Time said in a quiet, mild tone. A sad smile appeared on his face. His wrinkly, calloused hand reached out to hold yours. “Charon deserves a better friend than I can be, someone to venture into the waters with him, to share his burden.”
“So it shall be,” you nodded quietly. “Come Papsukkal,” you called the bird.
Visibly reluctant to end his peanut feast, the crow flew to sit on your fingers. Morpheus and Time followed you outside of the cabin, both silently anticipating the miracle of creation they were about to witness. Although Dream had more occasions to see the scope of your power, he was just as smitten with the current possibility. Even more: he was a creator himself and yet your craft was so different from his. The major contrast was that his power was finite while yours was anything but, opening an entire uncharted realm of possibilities.
“Goodbye, dear friend,” you whispered to the bird. Its flaming eyes stared at you curiously.
Without much effort, your free hand barely tapped against the crow’s chest. Suddenly, the bird let out a deafening caw and it split into two separate entities: a black, completely ordinary crow still sitting on your hand and the strangest green ghost of a bird that appeared to be a flame brought into life. The crow-shaped spectre took flight, circling above your head.
"From the water I raise you and to water you shall return,” you said in a firm tone. Your voice wasn’t exceptionally loud and yet the black water began foaming restlessly. The trawler began shaking more than it should. “A monster of endless seas, protector of the damned. Guide the spirits of these waters, wash away the sorrows of their earthly lives. Do not fear the changing tides but learn to float along them. May the rivers of time flow in you, Silver Whale of the Oblivion Seas."
The green crow of fire let out a bright, booming caw before diving into the black water. For a moment, everything was silent, terrifyingly static. Then, a loud whine - a strangely white blue whale with green, burning eyes leapt above the impenetrable waves of Seas of Oblivion, only to fall back under the tide with a great splash.
“What a big boy!” Time exclaimed between chuckles. “Thank you, Wisdom. This is… I don’t know how to put it into words.”
“Then don’t. I know your gratitude, Time. Now we can only hope Charon and…”
“Barry,” Time stated. “He looks like a Barry.”
“Very well.” You couldn’t help a small smile entering your face. An entity so vital to the existence of this universe and he chose the simplest name one could think of. His exceptionality, like with everyone, lay not in his intrinsic nature but in his actions and choices. “Now we can only hope Charon and Barry get along as well as we want them to.”
In the distance, you could see Barry floating on his back and a thick, slimy tentacle curiously poking the whale’s exposed stomach. Once again, Time let out a raspy laugh.
“We should be returning to Dreaming,” you said as your hand gently grabbed Morpheus’s elbow. “It was a great pleasure, Time.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, dear Wisdom. Come by anytime you want.” You almost missed the quick, meaningful glance he gave Morpheus. “Thank you, again. Charon seems happy or at least happier than he was.”
The trawler, old sea dog and black, endless water faded into the marble walls Morpheus knew so well. Suddenly, it felt strange not to smell seaweed and sludge but the general dryness of his palace was incomparably better than the overwhelming wetness of the boat. Additionally, there were no ghosts haunting Dreaming.
Suddenly, someone barged into the room you had been in. Lucienne had her arms full of books and papers. Her lips were pushed together, no doubt an effect of the amount of work she had to take care of in a record time. Bless her heart for having such strength.
“Before you leave, my lord Morpheus,” she spoke fast and somehow impatiently but it was hardly her own fault, “the Order of the Burning Rose requested an audience as soon as possible. The patriarch sounded… upset, to put it lightly.”
“Thank you, Lucienne. I will take care of it,” he answered in a strangely absent voice. In rushed footsteps, she disappeared into the long halls of the palace and Morpheus looked at you with a curious glint in his eyes. “How long have we been gone?” he asked.
You shrugged your shoulders slightly. “I can’t be exactly sure but I’d say around five minutes? Maybe seven?”
He had a strange, and probably not at all conscious, habit of tilting his head upwards when he felt thrilled or fascinated. Morpheus could, of course, make a comment about how remarkable you were but it seemed pointless - who in their right mind makes a note of the wetness of water? Or the darkness of the night? “Now, if you’ll excuse me, lady Wisdom, I have a kingdom to reign.”
“Do what you must, my king.”
And with those words, he had to return to his regal duties. You, too, went back to what you did most of the time - sitting underneath the hazel tree, listening to the whispers of countless realms that were, are and yet will happen; the chattering of cycles of life.
It was hard for you to say how much time had passed when you heard a bizarre and utterly unexpected sound: a whale’s singing. You opened your eyes only to see a large fin disappearing in the sky as though its owner dived farther into the firmament like it was water.
Sparing no time, you searched for Morpheus and possible answers to his sudden change of heart. Finding him wasn’t exactly difficult - he stood on the staircase leading up to the castle’s entrance. Wrapped in his ridiculously long coat, he simply admired his new creation, no matter how narcissistic that might have seemed.
“I see you’ve been busy.”
Morpheus looked at you but only for a moment. Something about the humpback whale swimming across the firmament was a little too captivating. “For the first time, I looked at my own sky and realized it was empty despite all of these stars.”
“It’s beautiful.”
As though the whale had heard your compliment, it sang happily eliciting a laugh from you. Your eyes followed the graceful, slow movements of the mammal, while Morpheus’s gaze was stuck on you. It appeared that there were things more captivating than whales in a starry sky.
I’m afraid my tale ends here, dear student. There is still some time until nightfall. You’re welcome to linger at my home but I’m tired and, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get some rest. There should be some oranges in the kitchen if you’re hungry. Oh, and before I go, because I might forget this and it’s quite important, there are two things I need you to remember: if you dream of a humpback whale, don’t be afraid of the challenges ahead, you will succeed. The second thing is when you visit me next time, remind me to tell you the story about the patriarch and the Burning Rose. I’ll see you soon, dear student.
#morpheus sandman#morpheus x reader#morpheus#morpheus x you#morpheus fanfiction#morpheus imagine#the sandman fandom#the sandman imagine#the sandman fanfiction#the sandman x reader#the sandman x you#sandman x you#sandman fanfiction#sandman imagine#sandman x reader#dream of the endless imagine#dream x reader#dream of the endless#dream the endless
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Guilty Pleasure, Part 2
Part One
One of a bard's greatest tools is the power of observation, Jehantel once said - a good bard knows to keep his eyes and ears open, and to pay attention. After all, adapting to changing circumstances is as much a bard's key skill as it is any other archer's. And, given their purpose for being in the city, Guydelot's been keeping an eye on the comings and goings of the Forgotten Knight's many patrons, both upstairs and down - any one of them might know something, sure, but more to the point, any one of them might know someone who might know something. A tavern's greatest asset is information, after all.
Which is to say, Guydelot knows when Sanson arrives that night. The door upstairs opens, letting in a burst of frigid air that makes the lights flutter, and then closes... but no one comes down the stairs.
That's three nights in a row, the bard thinks, smiling to himself. It's a bittersweet satisfaction: the stiff little prig is listening to him play and sing; there's no question about that. There's no other reason for him to lurk at the top of the stairs like that, when he could just as easily go directly to their room in the tavern's inn. Sanson doesn't speak to anyone while he's sitting there, and he can hardly keep an eye on the main room from that angle; no, Guydelot is sure he's there to listen - to listen, and for no other reason.
The question is... why?
Why any of this, really. Sanson's out here in this gloomy, frozen city chasing a song. He's not a bard - he's not even a minstrel; Guydelot hasn't so much as heard the bastard humming to himself in their short time together.
Not, of course, that they're spending much time together. Guydelot's set up shop here in the tavern, with the innkeeper's blessing, while Sanson... well. Sanson's been out making inquiries, and having a rough go of it; if he's turned up any leads, he hasn't seen fit to share them. Which, Guydelot reasons, must mean he hasn't found any yet: otherwise the man would've dragged him off in pursuit, surely. He's like a hound on a hunt with no scent to chase, circling the same ground over and over again...
Might be as it's time I made my own move then, eh?
Letting his current song wind down to the end, Guydelot heads for the stairs, waving off a few good-spirited protests. He'll be back. He just needs a little fresh air... aye, and mayhap to tweak Sanson's tail a little, that too.
And there he is. Right where Guydelot knew he'd be.
Tucked against the wall, politely out of the way of anyone who might want to come downstairs, but resolutely not going down, himself. Squinting in the poor lighting, scribbling in his journal nonetheless. The pinched little frown Sanson wears - already very familiar - tells Guydelot all he needs to know, but he can't help asking: "No luck again?"
He watches Sanson's grip on his quill tighten, then relax. Oh, the little shite wants to yell at him, Guydelot can feel it. "I am making progress," he says instead, exquisitely level-headed. Never mind that his eyes are blazing with fury. And something that might, might, be pure hatred. "I am making some connections that might gain me access to the High Houses, all of whom have employed bards in the past." He pauses. "And what have you accomplished today, Guydelot?"
A number of things, really. A retired knightly gent had made a passing comment about his playing, saying it'd been an age since he'd last heard a proper singer in this tavern - and that the last he'd known of had been a young knight. A knight with a scholar's heart; a fellow who'd won the heart of his beloved by singing traditional Coerthan love songs. Now, the Ballad of Oblivion's no love song, to be sure, Guydelot knows, but it is old, if Sanson's prattling holds even a grain of truth. Might be as this knight knows a thing or two about old songs? It's a start, anyhow, and a better start than anything Sanson's got.
But if he tells Sanson all this, what'll happen? Guydelot knows too well what men like this do when they hear an idea they don't like. And if it turns out to be nothing, he'll be yelled at for wasting time.
Best if he pursues this one alone, eh? He can look into it, and if a lead comes of it, then he'll tell Sanson all about it.
Easy as it gets.
For now, though, he shrugs, all innocence. "Me? I'm makin' friends and comin' up with new songs. You should come down and hear 'em."
He's not sure why he keeps trying to lure Sanson down. It's amusing, maybe. Maybe he just wants to see what's under that stiff exterior; there's gotta be something. Jehantel likes Sanson well enough. Eve likes Sanson well enough. Hells, Guydelot wants to like the bastard, if he wasn't so dead-set on making himself unlikable in every possible way-
"I can hear you well enough from here."
Like so.
"There's better lighting down there." Uninvited, Guydelot plops himself down on the stair beside Sanson, leaning back. "Can't be good for your eyes, writing in the dark."
Is he imagining it, or does color creep into Sanson's cheeks? Can't be. Must be the light. "You'll block the stairs."
"There's plenty of stair left." He grins. "They build big in Ishgard."
"Scoot over, then," Sanson snaps, waspish. "You're in what little light I have."
He is blushing! Fancy that. "First you want me to make more room on the stair, now you want less? Make up your mind." He scoots closer instead, right up close. He slips an arm oh-so-casually around Sanson's shoulders. Where's the fun in this mission if he can't get Sanson the Stiff a little riled up? "How's your light now?"
"You-" Sanson stiffens under his arm, indignant and furious. "You are insufferable!" He snaps his journal shut. Jerks to his feet-
Nearly pitches forward down the stairs.
Guydelot's on his feet before he realizes it, grabbing for Sanson's arm. He gets a grip on the man's sleeve. Yanks.
And then Sanson's in his arms, clutched reflexively against his chest as though he's something... something precious, instead of the biggest headache Guydelot's ever had. His own heart's racing like he's run a malm, when all he did was stop an idiot from breaking his neck-
"I'm... let go of me," Sanson says, a touch more subdued now; the bard does as he's ordered (for once). They step apart, abashed - and not quite able to meet one another's eyes. Finally, Sanson sighs. "That was foolish." And then, a little more strangled, "Thank you, Guydelot."
He shrugs, discomforted. "Aye, well, I was being an ass." So much for tweaking Sanson's tail! He'd nearly spooked the man so bad he cracked his head open. "Listen, Sanson," he says, while they're not at one another's throat for the moment, "There's this-"
"I should go," the man says instead, hurrying down the stairs with as much dignity as he can manage, retreating - as he does every night - to their room, before Guydelot can try to bridge the gulf between them.
Guydelot watches him go, hating the way his heart's still racing in his chest, aching against his ribs. What's that about, anyhow? Sanson's fine. Better than fine.
He drags a hand through his hair, heading for the door - now he really needs fresh air. Tomorrow he'll set out in pursuit of his own lead, he decides, simmering with something that isn't quite anger. Tomorrow, maybe, he'll show Sanson just what he can do. And then, maybe, he'll be able to convince Sanson to come down and hear him play, just for a little while.
Maybe.
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Hello, there, just have a quick little question. How screwed are Widderslaintes on the whole morality issue? Could it be possible for one to resist the darker impulses or will I be needing to break some lore?
Widderslaintes are a funny one, I think. While every major WoD book I've read has their own take on the 'irredeemable, possibly mad kill-on-sight asshole who wants you dead' type-- the Wayward in Hunter the Reckoning, Baali in Vampire the Masquerade, Spectres in Wraith the Oblivion and yknow... Black Spiral Dancers being the absolute poster child of that antagonistic near-absolute evil...
I do think that unlike Black Spirals, and like Waywards, it should be possible to mould individuals into something less wholly corrupted. I do think they'd need to keep that theme of having been corrupted by the actions of their Avater's previously Nephandic actions, but you could play with the idea of the people who are connected to that Avatar slowly becoming less corruption-touched over cycles.
Mages have a unique flexibility in the worldbuilding there and while I think it would be immensely hard for a singular Widderslainte to become arguably not-fucked up in one lifetime, I think it's not outside at least the spirit of Mage to have them try regardless. It's the most hopeful of the main books, and I think you should play with that hope versus cold hard reality, since what do mages deal in yknow?
Mages are still people at the end of the day, and I use the Hunters as a counterpart cause in many ways they're the most similar to each other-- people who find that the world isn't how they thought it was and powers from on high (or below) have saw fit to pull them into the broader meta-struggle for reality one way or the other. The Tellurian needs them, and they're human at the core (until proved otherwise).
So I think a healthy bit of 'yes, and' with the lore here could help you. Lean into what the lore says and use it as your core reason for why your Widderslainte might try to change anyway. Gives a good struggle, and a good core narrative, right? :D
Widderslainte should be monstrous, but as we see in Vampire and Werewolf and Hunter, the monstrous is what we contrast to the human. How much of their actions are truly an inhuman thing to do? Are they both sides of the same coin? Or are they supernaturally opposed to each other? Hundreds of Dark Ages Kindred scholars argued as many Paths over that same discourse.
I hope this helps, what little I can suggest, and if I come across further lore about them later I'll try and put it up here :D
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𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍
- Tagged by: @piltover-sharpshooter & @shimmerbeasts -
-Under 'Read More' for length-
What made you pick up the current muse(s) you have? He's one of my absolute fave League champions. There were hardly any out there and I dipped by finger in that sanguine pool for a moment and got pulled in instantly. To me he has a ton of potential to be fleshed out, that I hope to put down in writing. Riot seems to forget the 'unpolished' gem they have created at times. Especially since he seems to always end up as a joke to people in the community and even the playerbase, and easily gets ignored that way. Or at least in my experiences. The amount of times I've heard jokes like 'discount-ripoff-Lestat/Dracula/vampire/-clown are too.fucking.many...
Is there anything you don’t like to write? Slice of life stuff... I just don't get any motivation to keep anything going in that genre. The same goes for modern verses? I just don't get inspiration for anything on my muses for this either. And not even because I dislike them or anything, it just doesn't mesh with my brain.
Is there anything you really enjoy writing? A n g s t It comes naturally to me, with little effort. And considering how swamped my schedule is, this is a blessing. Though I am not that fuzzed about what genre I'm writing in. I enjoy most things, as long as there is something that moves forward. Development and something to work with to continue that pace and progression are absolutely <3
How do you come up with headcanons? Inspiration from other sources Trying to look behind the basic lore and colour stories, but also look at any potential related characters or other sources and see if anything meshes with Vlad. Like, besides his own lore, I also looked at Noxian lore, Camavoran lore, Viego/Kalista/Hecarim, the Blessed Isles, Ruination, the Darkin and so on.
Do you write in silence or do you play music? I write mostly with something playing in the background. This could be any relatable music to my muses. Or just any of my playlists. A Youtube series I'm watching/listening to. While at work I tend to write down keywords if something comes to mind, and then at home I'll see what comes out of it. (if I remember that I wrote something down)
Do you plan your replies or wing them? I wing them, 99%, mostly. I don't really enjoy planning out every step of muses interactions and relationships. And besides, Vlad is not one to let his life and actions be dictated as easily. He does as he pleases and so too do I write him.
Do you enjoy shipping? I am a shipping whore, but I am very passive in seeking anything in this regard due to really bad experiences where I got accusted of only seeking out interactions for ships, just because I like some characters together. Like, my absolute otp is VladVayne, but I never interacted with any Vayne for the shipping reason. I enjoy their antagonistic dynamic potential a lot too, but yeah stuff happened and now I just tend to not bother to seek interactions. It's a good thing Vlad is not an easy character to ship with, so that saves me a lot of issues as well in this regard.
What’s your alias/name? Cella
Age? 36
Birthday? May 20th
Favourite color? I have several: Black, red, green and purple
Favourite song? This changes whenever it does, But currently it is 'The Skies Above' by The Black Mages
Last movie you watched? I can't remember. It might have been a horror movie when I went to my bestie, sometime last year, to watch 'something'. But I have slept since then, and just don't remember a title.
Last show you watched? I think that has to be Hazbin Hotel? I don't watch a lot of series or shows. Heck, I haven't watched TV properly in a decade now. And rarely go online to watch anything.
Last song you listened to? 'Oblivion' by Masayoshi Soken (Yes, it is another Final Fantasy XIV song)
Favourite food? Listen, I love food, so I don't really have one specific dish or type that I consider a 'fave'. So I'll give a couple: sushi, steak (rare, I need it to bleed), chips (fries for you USA lot), kebab and ice cream (lemon being my absolute fave flavour)
Favourite season? W I N T E R No sun, no spiders (severely arachnophobic), no skin-blistering heat. What's not to love? And if I'm cold, I just. wear. another. layer. of. clothing.
Do you have a Tumblr best friend? Quite a few. Shoutout to @angelicxlly @piltover-sharpshooter @thegoldentigress @weapon-turned-jack These four have been with me through thick and thin for several years now. I love them dearly and they're precious to me. Heck, Monkey-brain-sharpshooter is practically my clone. Literal spiderman-meme stuff there and it gets creepy at times how much we act and think and say alike...
Tagging: You, yes you! I don't know who has been tagged or has done this already. But consider this your tag now~
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OCS AS LITERARY ARCHETYPES;
tagged by @leviiackrman to use this uquiz for some ocs, thank you sm! tagging @rkyloren @shadowglens @baldurians @arlathen @arklay @catacomb-chaos @noonfaerie @queennymeria @risingsh0t @thefathersbride
ECHO VALDÉS // CYBERPUNK 2077
the rebel
you were probably made painfully aware of the reality of the world at an early age. this might have left you a bit jaded, but it mostly has made you angry. why do things have to be this way? is there really no way to change things, or are people just afraid to do so? you’re very stubborn and determined, sometimes too stubborn for your own good. don’t forget that your way isn’t the only way, be open to discussion. your heart’s in the right place though, and i admire your spirit. the world always needs more people like you, that’s how the course of history keeps on rolling. remember, even small changes can do so much for the lives of others.
VIOLET SHEPARD // MASS EFFECT
the caregiver
you've spent so long taking care of others, you don't know what to do with yourself if you aren't. you probably suck at taking care of yourself though, maybe you feel like you aren't worthy or deserving. but deep down, i know you wish to be cared for too. you want someone to show you that you are worth even just half the effort you put into caring for other people. dont neglect yourself.
IVY NIGHTGROVE // THE ELDER SCROLLS IV: OBLIVION
the siren
this archetype is one of the most misunderstood and misrepresented in my opinion, which i assume fits with you nicely. people see you as some cold and awful person, seducing others only to discard them when you get bored. in reality, you probably didn’t have a lot of control over your life before, did you? this is the same case as the ruler, both lacking in power and autonomy. the difference between you and the ruler, however, is that you only care about reclaiming that power for yourself. you also seek the feeling of being wanted, truly and wholly, and this quest seems never ending. try your best to avoid putting yourself into horrible situations just for a brief moment of respite from the loneliness.
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Z-Awakening
The flood gates have opened and i have been on this mobile game kick for weeks. It started with BLEACH: Brave Souls and I've been legitimately entrenched in this weirdly satisfying form of gaming ever since. Now, I'm not going to sit here and say mobile gaming is super great, it’ not and wildly predatory, but i am going to say i have found a few that don’t outright suck ass. Brave Souls turned out to be more of a mixed bag than i expected and has kind of fallen on the back burner. Since my Fate/Grand Order account got yeeted into oblivion and I've started over fresh, i have realized how goddamn terrible that sh*t is. FGO is bad. It’s the worst! Outside of the overall narratives (Fate, at it’s core, is a visual novel), there is no substance to that “game.” It just prints money for Type-Moon. That said, i stumbled across one that has the same energy as my beloved Azure Lane. I get so much of the same vibes with this one that i feel like it might become a proper option in my gaming repertoire. The game i;m talking about is Dragon Ball Z: Dokkan Battle!
Now, I'm a sucker for Dragon Ball, period. This blog is riddled with essays and rants about that franchise. I’ve loved that sh*t since before i knew what Dragon Ball even was. I saw a little blurb about Hyper Dimension in a Gamefan magazine in the Nineties. I had no idea what the f*ck i was looking at but i knew it was the coolest sh*t, ever. When i got older and more familiar with the franchise, i realized it was SSJ Goku firing off a Kamehameha at Perfect Cell but, back when i first saw that sh*t, it was straight up bewildering. Imagine seeing Perfect Cell for the first time, with no contest, in the throwaway space of a video magazine that was about Sonic 3? Yeah, it was a confusing time. As i got older, i absorbed more and more understanding of DB through cultural osmosis. Being an otaku (Weebs before the term “Weeb” was coined), i came to recognize such things as Super Saya-Jin, Broly, and Freezer. When i finally got the opportunity to take in the franchise personally, i felt like i had been watching this sh*t for decades. And i loved every second of it. Dokkan Battle is kind of a love letter to everything Dragon Ball and i ma her for all of it. Before i get into why i adore this game so, i need to pay some bills. Basically, explain to why this mobile game doesn’t suck like MOST of it’s kin.
Dokkan Battle is just Bubble Bobble. That’s it. This sh*t is Bejeweled with Super Saiyans. It’s just Puzzle Fighter, on a slant, with dope ass Dragon Ball cutscenes. That, alone, gives it more wight than the VAST majority of games in the Play Store. Full disclosure, the mechanics of this game aren’t super unique. Like, you’ve played Bubble Bobble in your life. You’re probably playing a clone right now. If you can do that, you can do Dokkan. There are, of course, little quirks to it’s specific dynamic. Like, there’s an Elemental Wheel where certain things are stronger than others and the Spheres you select correlate to those rules or whatever. It’s diversified further by the characters you pick to go into battle, having these same Elemental aspects. Buffs and debuffs re given to them in battle depending on if said character matches said bubbles or whatever. Dokkan isn’t changing the wheel with there game play loop but I've been playing this sh*t for decades so I'm pretty comfortable with that. Seriously, who doesn’t know how to play Puzzle Fighter? Well, let me rephrase; Who under the age of forty-five, doesn’t now how to play Puzzle Fighter? That type of game is basically Oregon Trail for my generation. In terms of playability, Dokkan is, arguably, a better game than Azur Lane and i f*cking have a blast with that sh*t but that’s not why i love it so much. It’s a real bonus, but not the thing which has me gushing over it right now.
The history is what keeps me coming back to Dokkan. This sh*t spans the entire Dragon Ball franchise. The shows, the games, the manga; All of it. There are characters, multiple versions of characters, that have been on scree or on the page, for the blink of an eye. Super deep cuts like Western Supreme Kai or Towa, are represented in this sh*t. They get a back story. They are developed as characters, to an extent. We all know I'm a sucker for lore so this sh*t really, REALLY, speaks to the core of my entertainment experience. It’s just mad dope being able to see Super Saiyan 3 Vegeta, Final Flash a guy into oblivion. That never happens in Dragon Ball proper. Vegeta hates that form but in this game? Yeah, he’s a perennial component to my team. There is just so much depth in terms of team structure, and even more when it comes to leveling them up. Awakenings, Z-Awakenings, and Dokkan Awakenings are available to a great many of these characters, with a significant power increase to these characters. Each has a skill tree unlocked once out get to a certain level and, as a Final Fantasy guy, I'm all about a Sphere Grid. Like, everything about this game is built for me to absolutely lose myself in it and i have willingly done so. I am all over Dragon Ball Z: Dokkan Battle and, if you are like me or like my sh*t here, you probably will, too.
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Z-Awakening
The flood gates have opened and i have been on this mobile game kick for weeks. It started with BLEACH: Brave Souls and I've been legitimately entrenched in this weirdly satisfying form of gaming ever since. Now, I'm not going to sit here and say mobile gaming is super great, it’ not and wildly predatory, but i am going to say i have found a few that don’t outright suck ass. Brave Souls turned out to be more of a mixed bag than i expected and has kind of fallen on the back burner. Since my Fate/Grand Order account got yeeted into oblivion and I've started over fresh, i have realized how goddamn terrible that sh*t is. FGO is bad. It’s the worst! Outside of the overall narratives (Fate, at it’s core, is a visual novel), there is no substance to that “game.” It just prints money for Type-Moon. That said, i stumbled across one that has the same energy as my beloved Azure Lane. I get so much of the same vibes with this one that i feel like it might become a proper option in my gaming repertoire. The game i;m talking about is Dragon Ball Z: Dokkan Battle!
Now, I'm a sucker for Dragon Ball, period. This blog is riddled with essays and rants about that franchise. I’ve loved that sh*t since before i knew what Dragon Ball even was. I saw a little blurb about Hyper Dimension in a Gamefan magazine in the Nineties. I had no idea what the f*ck i was looking at but i knew it was the coolest sh*t, ever. When i got older and more familiar with the franchise, i realized it was SSJ Goku firing off a Kamehameha at Perfect Cell but, back when i first saw that sh*t, it was straight up bewildering. Imagine seeing Perfect Cell for the first time, with no contest, in the throwaway space of a video magazine that was about Sonic 3? Yeah, it was a confusing time. As i got older, i absorbed more and more understanding of DB through cultural osmosis. Being an otaku (Weebs before the term “Weeb” was coined), i came to recognize such things as Super Saya-Jin, Broly, and Freezer. When i finally got the opportunity to take in the franchise personally, i felt like i had been watching this sh*t for decades. And i loved every second of it. Dokkan Battle is kind of a love letter to everything Dragon Ball and i ma her for all of it. Before i get into why i adore this game so, i need to pay some bills. Basically, explain to why this mobile game doesn’t suck like MOST of it’s kin.
Dokkan Battle is just Bubble Bobble. That’s it. This sh*t is Bejeweled with Super Saiyans. It’s just Puzzle Fighter, on a slant, with dope ass Dragon Ball cutscenes. That, alone, gives it more wight than the VAST majority of games in the Play Store. Full disclosure, the mechanics of this game aren’t super unique. Like, you’ve played Bubble Bobble in your life. You’re probably playing a clone right now. If you can do that, you can do Dokkan. There are, of course, little quirks to it’s specific dynamic. Like, there’s an Elemental Wheel where certain things are stronger than others and the Spheres you select correlate to those rules or whatever. It’s diversified further by the characters you pick to go into battle, having these same Elemental aspects. Buffs and debuffs re given to them in battle depending on if said character matches said bubbles or whatever. Dokkan isn’t changing the wheel with there game play loop but I've been playing this sh*t for decades so I'm pretty comfortable with that. Seriously, who doesn’t know how to play Puzzle Fighter? Well, let me rephrase; Who under the age of forty-five, doesn’t now how to play Puzzle Fighter? That type of game is basically Oregon Trail for my generation. In terms of playability, Dokkan is, arguably, a better game than Azur Lane and i f*cking have a blast with that sh*t but that’s not why i love it so much. It’s a real bonus, but not the thing which has me gushing over it right now.
The history is what keeps me coming back to Dokkan. This sh*t spans the entire Dragon Ball franchise. The shows, the games, the manga; All of it. There are characters, multiple versions of characters, that have been on scree or on the page, for the blink of an eye. Super deep cuts like Western Supreme Kai or Towa, are represented in this sh*t. They get a back story. They are developed as characters, to an extent. We all know I'm a sucker for lore so this sh*t really, REALLY, speaks to the core of my entertainment experience. It’s just mad dope being able to see Super Saiyan 3 Vegeta, Final Flash a guy into oblivion. That never happens in Dragon Ball proper. Vegeta hates that form but in this game? Yeah, he’s a perennial component to my team. There is just so much depth in terms of team structure, and even more when it comes to leveling them up. Awakenings, Z-Awakenings, and Dokkan Awakenings are available to a great many of these characters, with a significant power increase to these characters. Each has a skill tree unlocked once out get to a certain level and, as a Final Fantasy guy, I'm all about a Sphere Grid. Like, everything about this game is built for me to absolutely lose myself in it and i have willingly done so. I am all over Dragon Ball Z: Dokkan Battle and, if you are like me or like my sh*t here, you probably will, too.
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Hi!!! Do you have any recs where Harry and/or Draco smoke week?
I sure do, anon! I have a feeling a did a reclist for this before but I’m losing track of the new ones as I can’t add more links on the masterlist post and I’m too lazy to start another one hehe 💀 anyway here are some recs for you, enjoy!
Options by @mintawasalreadytaken (2021, E, 2.5k)
Harry's looking for company; Draco fits the bill.
A Shorts Story About Love by @shealwaysreads (2019, E, 3.5k)
House-sharing with Slytherins, student life, magic weed, and short shorts. Harry's life at university might be strange, but he wouldn't change it for the world.
push and pull you down by @bonesliketambourines (2020, E, 5k)
Harry's resigned himself to petty, inconsequential cases and no real connection to his job at the Auror department—after all, what else would he be doing with his time? He's not happy, not really, but that hardly matters.
What’s My Age Again? by @lazywonderlvnd (2018, E, 12k)
Harry Potter has had enough of pleasing the public, and his reckless tendencies are finally getting out of hand.
Secret Admirer by Cassiopeias_shadow (2021, E, 12k) - thanks for the rec, anon!
Fresh out of training, Harry discovers that life as an Auror isn’t at all what he’d imagined - it’s much better actually, and there are stickers. As he settles into the team, a case lands quite literally on his doorstep... who keeps sending the Knight Bus to his house?
Discretion is Key by orphan_account (2012, M, 14k)
In the months following their return to Hogwart for their 8th and final year, Harry and Draco bond over a shared interest in marijuana, snack foods, and other boys.
holemate by @vukovich (2021, E, 19k)
Most people never get a soulmate. Harry has buried three. When the mark appears again, this time alongside an American Auror, perhaps a diversion can keep everyone alive. A diversion that looks a whole lot like a chaotic, fuckable Malfoy.
Nice Things by aideomai (2020, M, 22k)
The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.
Famous by @fw00shy (2021, E, 24k)
It's a couple of years after the war, and Harry's bored of models now, the same way he's bored of Ron's constant nagging, bored of his Weasley monogram knitwear, bored of the same fucking grin that greets him when he hands his fire-truck red Bugatti over to the valet every night. He wants to find—well, he isn't sure what he wants.
Fearful Trill by @vukovich (2021, E, 29k)
Harry should have come out and met someone when he was younger. He should have seen a doctor about the pain in his hip while youth was still on his side. Now, he's made his peace with dying young, but maybe not with dying alone.
Colloquy by @dracoladon and @lazywonderland (2021, E, 30k)
Harry's not gay, Malfoy just smells good.
In Our Blood by secretsalex (2018, E, 38k)
Draco is an accomplished pure-blood curse breaker, and Harry is tasked with accompanying him on his latest job—cleaning up the Van Boer mansion, which has been under a devastating fertility curse for seven generations.
Dreaming Darkly by @quicksilvermaid (2019, E, 40k)
It's five years after the war, and Harry is not okay. He hates his job. He hates Robards. He hates Ron's promotions and Hermione's concern. He chases oblivion in booze and weed and quick dirty fucks, but it's never enough.
Here's The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout (2013, M, 49k)
Harry thinks "Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?" is a much simpler question than, "Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don't, what will you do?"
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Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 1
Summary: Draco meets and accidentally falls in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP). Part 1 of a upcoming series.
Warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of blood, crying, panic attacks
Words: 6.4K words (I made this so longgg)
A/N: my first Draco writing !!! i am sorry ahead of time if there are any misspellings, typing with long acrylics is hard omg. ALSO PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SEND ME REQUESTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also i do not own this gif.
It was almost satirical how Draco managed to fall in love with someone at what might be, is, the lowest point in his life. It was his sixth year at Hogwarts, the dark mark burned into his left forearm, the restless mending of the vanishing cabinet, the impossible task of killing his Headmaster, the Dark Lord looming over him and his family with promises of torture and death if he didn’t follow through with the orders he was given.
Draco was an empty shell of what he used to be. The playful and mean remarks that would leave his mouth to anyone that stood in his path were gone. The devious twinkle in his eye and the smug smirk that used to grace his face almost 24/7 was reduced to a permanent scowl and red-rimmed eyes. He looked as if he had aged a rough 10 years since the last year he was at school. Everyone noticed it.
Everyone noticed the skipped meals, the lack of sleep, the empty look in his eyes, the falling behind in class. But no one dared say a thing to him. It almost seems as though people were afraid of him now more than ever. The sneer on his face and the reckless and impulsive attitude he held now was like a repellent for anyone that tried to come near. He was completely alone, whether he liked it or not and he decided to keep it that way.
That all changed a few months into the year, however, when you were rushing to DADA, your long house colored scarf getting tangled underneath your feet causing you to trip and lurch forward, dropping all your books, your wand, and crashing into, you guessed it, Draco Malfoy himself. There was a loud cracking sound as you both tumbled onto the ground, a yelp slipping past Draco’s lips as he held his hand in pain.
"Oh, Merlin,” you gasped, Draco shooting you the dirtiest glare. “Draco, I’m so sorry.”
Before he could open his mouth to tell you off and incessantly insult you into oblivion, you reached forward and took his wounded hand in yours, the softness of your hands and tender touch throwing him off guard. He watched you as you examined the damage on one of his fingers.
“It’s just a sprain,” you finalized after inspecting it for a couple seconds. Draco recoiled his hand from yours as if he had touched a hot surface. He moved to get up and you huffed out a “wait, hold on,” as you scrambled around the ground for your wand. When you felt the wood underneath your fingertips, you clutched it and jumped to your feet, gently grabbing onto the sleeve of Draco’s robe who was already trying to retreat.
“Get away,” he snarled, snatching his arm out of your grasp.
“Let me help,” you pleaded softly, “it’ll be quick, I promise.”
Draco looked down at you with annoyance. He was about to leave again until he felt that same tender touch from just a few moments ago. The feeling stunning him again as he looked down at his hand that was now lying palm up in yours.
“Episkey,” you drawled the wand over his injured finger, the both of you watching the swollen and purple bruise beginning to form suddenly fade away.
Draco gave you one last scowl before he snatched his hand out of yours and turned around to leave the corridor, leaving you standing there dumbfounded as he quickly walked away, his cloak floating behind him like the professor, who’s class you now realized you were very late for.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
That night, Draco lied awake staring at his ceiling he had charmed to resemble a starry night sky. His mind wandered off to think about spells he could try to help fix the vanishing cabinet and different ways he could kill Dumbledore without actually having to face him. He thought of his parents, mostly his mom, and how much he wishes he could save her and himself from this life. He thought of this school and how much he missed being an unknowing child who just did his schoolwork, played quidditch and bully the Golden Trio. He missed the two-dimensional life he used to live. Even if he used to be a complete ignorant and snobby arse, he was a happy one at that. Only now he knows that life isn’t what mummy or daddy say it is, in fact, it is so much worse.
He found his mind wandering to his uneventful day of dragging himself through his classes and failed attempts on the cabinet in the room of requirement. He then all of a sudden remembered the klutzy y/h/c girl that tripped into him and sprained his finger. He remembered how soft her touch was and how gentle she was in fixing said finger. That feeling was hard to forget. He hasn’t felt such tenderness since he doesn’t know how long. He recalled his mother’s hug before he boarded the train to Hogwarts, but that was ages ago.
In his ever growing turmoil, there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in Draco’s life since he’s returned to school. The coldness he was feeling on the inside was just as apparent as it was in his surroundings. He catches himself wishing he could feel that touch again, something about you radiated warmth, and just as quick as that thought appeared, he pushed it away.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
The next day, as Draco was leaving the room of requirement and into the empty corridor, he felt the familiar ache in his chest that began to flow through his body. He had made little to no progress today on the cabinet. He felt a panic attack on the horizon, his breathing becoming staggered and tears pricking his eyes. He hated it. He hated feeling so weak.
He began rushing towards Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, his tears blurring his vision and just like the day before, he crashed right into someone. Instinctively, he held the other person in place by their biceps so neither of them would fall. But that still didn’t stop how upon impact, the other person’s head had collided with his bottom lip. He squeezed his eyes in pain as he felt the skin break and blood quickly escaping it. When he pulled back, he focused on the figure in front of him and realized it was you. The same klutzy girl he bumped into yesterday.
“Oh no, not again,” you frown, placing your hand on the part of your head that met Draco’s lip.
“You ought to watch where you’re going, you twit,” he snarls, stepping away from you in anger.
“It was an accident,” you responded just as harshly. You take a deep breath and throw the attitude aside. He was bleeding for Merlin’s sake and you felt bad that it was because of you. “I’m sorry, please let me heal you again,” you offer, taking a step towards him, closing up the space he had made.
“I think you’ve done enough,” he backs up, eyeing you down.
“Draco, please, just let me heal your lip and i’ll be out of your way,” you ask again, your soft and guilt ridden e/c eyes peering up at him through your lashes. Draco’s heart flutters, his anger subsiding for a second and he nods.
You step towards him once more and unexpectedly place a warm hand on his face while the other brings your wand up to his lip where it hovers. It was a non-verbal spell you used this time and he felt the pulsating pain in his lip subside to nothing.
Even though he was healed, you both stayed in that position, your hand still on his cheek and his eyes gazing into yours. He didn’t realize it at that moment, but the pain in chest had also subsided, just a little. The tears had gone. His breathing was drastically slower.
“What’s your name?” the question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. You gave him a small smile, your hand falling from his face and he frowns when he feels the cold on his skin from the loss of contact.
“It’s Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N” you answer. “We have potions together this year, actually.”
Draco thought back to that class, now that Slughorn was teaching it he hardly paid attention, especially since he felt he was skilled in it anyways so he would let himself slip into his thoughts and let the whole period pass by in a haze. He feels as though he might have heard your name here and there, but he wasn’t so sure.
“Hm, funny, I’ve never noticed you,” he says, not intending it to sound rude but it did. He watches your face fall and he feels a slight guilt poke at him.
“Well, like I said, I’ll be out of your way now,” you mumble to him, brushing past him softly as you continued your path out of the corridor and out of his sight.
He didn’t know why, but he felt a little sad to see you go. He shook his head, shaking the thought from his mind and instead of the bathroom, he decided to go to his room, no longer feeling like he did before your little encounter.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
As days went on, Draco ended up paying more attention in Slughorn’s class. Not to the chubby old professor, but to you, who he shared subtle glances with throughout classes and half-hearted smiles.
You wanted nothing more than to continue talking to him. To be in his presence. He was like a magnet to you, while everyone else thought the opposite of him. Even Pansy, who usually was up his ass, distanced herself from the ghost of the boy she once obsessed over. You couldn’t lie, the small crush you harbored on Draco had only grown more and more each day. It started about three years ago, during your third year when you had seen him in the hospital wing after his run-in with Buckbeak.
You remember the sheer shock you felt when you had seen him for the first time that year. The slicked back hair was gone, he had grown several inches taller, maybe even a foot taller now that you thought about it. His voice had deepened into that haughty tone you somehow couldn’t get enough of. But just like you, many other girls noticed these changes too and began pursuing him. Something you’d never had the guts to do.
Until now.
The feelings you had been suppressing for the past 3 years had come back in overflow the second you bumped into him the other day. Even worse this time since you’ve actually had a conversation with him now and the fact that he won’t stop looking at you.
Slughorn pulled you out of your thoughts when he announced to everyone to partner up to brew the potion he had been lecturing us on all week. Draught of Peace.
“This is your chance,” your friend besides you sings to you as you looked longingly in Draco’s direction who hasn’t moved from his spot.
“No, he usually works by himself, I don’t want to bother him anymore than I have,” you sigh, slumping down in your seat.
“Y/N, you’ve been in love with him since third year,” she huffs, “besides, maybe he only works alone because no one can stand being near him.”
“Shhh, someone might hear you,” you hiss, slumping even lower into your seat. “I am not in love with him, it’s just a stupid crush,” you whisper angrily to her while she only rolls her eyes.
“Okay, well, have fun working alone,” she smirks, getting up from her seat and scurrying across the room to join another classmate. You gape at her in distress, she returns the same gesture, mocking you. She then points over to Draco and smiles, giving you an encouraging thumbs up.
You rest your head in your hand for a second, feeling the hot blush that had made its way onto your face and focused your gaze onto the table in front of you. You mentally hexed your friend, who thought it’d be a good idea if she were ditch you so you would be forced to look for another partner. Jokes on her, you’re not getting up from this seat.
‘I can’t go up to him,” you thought, ‘he probably thinks I’m some annoying creep who won’t leave him alone. I’ll just work by myself.”
Draco looks over at you, noticing the empty space beside you and the frown on your face as you pushed your Potions book to the side and sat up to get your cauldron ready. You were alone, and so was he. He fought himself on whether or not he should join you. It was a bold move, especially for him. He was used to working alone, but the longer he looked at you, the more he found himself missing the sound of your honey sweet voice and soft eyes. Before he had any more time to argue with himself about it, he gathered up all his things and walked over to the empty spot next to you.
“Do you want help?” Draco asked awkwardly, immediately regretting his decision to move. Your eyes shot up from the potion book, not expecting to see the blond next to you with a faint blush on his cheeks.
“Um, yes, actually, that’d be nice,” you mutter out to him, moving some stuff around on the table so that he would have space for his. You could hardly contain the deep red blush that was already on your face from intensifying at his presence. You swallowed thickly as the realization set in that your longtime crush was right beside you and even offering a helping hand. Which in Draco’s case was extremely rare, almost unheard of. Matter of fact, this is something the Slytherin Prince has never done.
He sets his bag down and his supplies and takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves so that he could get started on crushing the porcupine quills into the moonstone powder. The amount of times he has made this potion by now for himself was sad, but good in this case since he would be able to impress you with his skill.
He worked diligently and quietly and you watched as his long slender fingers worked everything with attention and precision. You were looking up at him every now and then which you now realized was a terrible idea considering you were in the middle of cutting ginger root and you weren’t exactly coordinated to begin with. You felt the sharp blade slide across your finger and a small gasp left your mouth when the pain instantly began once the first drop of blood fell.
Draco looked at you in confusion, his eyes widening slightly when he saw the blood dripping from your hand and your face contorted in pain. You ignored the looks Draco was giving you, afraid that he might be looking at you with contempt for being sloppy.
“Y/L/N, perhaps you should go to Madam Pomfrey,” Draco suggests, now seeing that the cut was very deep as you inspected it. In fact, it was so deep he swore he could’ve seen bone.
“No, it’s fine, I can heal it,” you ignored the sharp pain and placed your hand on the table and pointed your wand at the cut with your uninjured hand. You focused on the cut and closed your eyes, letting your wand do its magic with your unspoken spell. When you opened your eyes, the cut was gone, just a small scar in its place and drying blood around it. “You see,” you smile, turning towards Draco and waving your finger, “brand new.”
“You don’t want dittany for the scarring?” Draco asked with an eyebrow raised.
“No, I don’t mind them and this one is small anyways. They’re like memories to me. Some come from good experiences, some bad. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a little clumsy,” you explain, a small smile on your lips.
“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” he sighs, “so you’ve managed to become your own healer because of that?”
“Exactly that,” you hummed. “That’s actually what I’m studying to be. I plan on being at St. Mungo’s once we graduate. I’ve been studying for it my whole life.”
Draco was silent for a moment. He watched as you carefully threw ingredients into the cauldron and stirred them with caution. He noticed that despite your clumsiness, you handled everything you touched with a care and gentleness. It was a calming sight to him for some reason and he faintly smiled.
“I think you’d be a great healer,” he complimented quietly. You looked at him with one of the brightest smiles he’s ever seen and his heart swells at the thought of it being because of him. He feels a smile mirroring yours that tries to break through, but he fights it.
“You know, you’re a lot nicer than you let on,” you say quietly, waiting for his reaction from the corner of his eye. Draco wants to give you a snarky remark, just to uphold his cold reputation he’s given himself since his first day back at Hogwarts, but he doesn’t.
Instead of saying anything, he just shrugged and gave you a small smile, turning his attention back to the task at hand. You do the same, choosing to enjoy the comfortable silence that had settled.
When Slughorn came by to check when you finished, he eyed you and Draco and smiled.
"Ahh, Mr. Malfoy, I’m glad you’ve finally decided to partner up with someone,” he gleamed. “Miss Y/L/N here is an excellent potions student such as yourself.”
“Yes, she is,” Draco responded, keeping his eyes trained on the professor. He didn’t want to look at you, feeling embarrassed that he has now complimented you twice in the last 20 minutes. You smiled to yourself, something you’ve been doing a lot of since the slytherin boy sat next to you.
“Well, I suppose you’ll be pleased to know the two of you have brewed an outstanding potion,” Slughorn grins, “both of you will receive perfect marks on this. You can be excused from today’s class now.”
“Thank you, Professor,” you begin gathering your things and turn towards Draco. “I’ll see you next class? Or maybe somewhere around the castle when I accidentally bump into you.”
Draco chuckles and shakes his head, “perhaps. I’ll see you soon, Y/L/N.”
With that, he strides out of the class, you staring at the back of his platinum blond head with a stupid smile on your face.
“You’re welcome,” your friend suddenly appeared next to you, playfully slapping your arm. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen Draco look so... calm.”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
Weeks had gone by, and several Potions classes. The seat beside you now belonged to Draco and the two of you had in a sense, become friends. Or acquaintances. You couldn’t quite say.
He was still brooding and mostly kept to himself, but he would converse with you here and there about things, almost always school. The two of you continuously getting outstanding marks on everything you produced much to Slughorn’s delight.
Sometimes he would come to class looking disheveled or angry and those were the days where no matter how much you tried to talk to him to at least maybe get his mind off things, he would ignore you. Wouldn’t even look at you. You couldn’t deny how it had hurt your feelings, but you would brush off the hurt and remind yourself that it wasn’t personal. He was obviously going through something, you didn’t know what, but you had to respect that sometimes he just didn’t want to talk. That was hard. Especially because you just wanted to hear his voice or see him give you that rare smile when you would say something he found amusing or you would accidentally drop something off the table with your elbows or knocked over with your hands.
You were rounding a corridor when you saw the flash of blond zoom past you. He didn’t see you, but you saw the pointed look in his eyes and the tears that were pooling in the stormy gray eyes that you adored. You mentally fought yourself on whether or not you should follow him, he looked so upset and all you wanted to do was give him a peace of mind. So you followed him, all through two corridors until he disappeared into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.
Your heart broke at the sobs that filled the bathroom. They were full of pain and despair. The sound of his rapid breathing mixed in with his cries was more than enough to let you know that he was having a panic attack. You pushed open the door slightly to see him hunched over a sink, his robe discarded on the ground along with his vest and tie leaving him in only a white long sleeved dress shirt.
You wanted to run in and help, but stayed back, realizing that this was something that was extremely personal. You knew he would be livid if you or anyone saw him like this, so broken and emotional. You were about to leave, all of a sudden feeling very ashamed for even following him in here. You watched as he looked up into the mirror, an anger flashing in his eyes as he stared at the reflection looking back at him. Not yours, but his. All he could see was a monster staring back at him. A failure. A weak man. He was disgusted and angry with what he saw and before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled his fist back and you watched it collide with the middle of the mirror where he had been. The glass shattered upon impact, the shards now flying in all different directions and embedding into his knuckles. He fell to the ground on his knees, in pain and clutching his fist as his cries only got louder.
That was when you threw open the door, rushing in to help him, not caring that you were going to have to put up a fight in order to even get near him. Draco’s eyes shot up to meet yours, and just like you thought, he was beyond pissed to see you.
Draco has never felt such humiliation in his life. The beautiful and kind y/h girl he had acquainted himself with, was now looking at him with pity. He grabbed his wand from his pocket, pointing it at you with such quickness that you faltered in your steps.
“Get. Out!” He yelled, his wand shaking violently in his uninjured hand. He would never hex you, but he figured you would fall for his bluff and leave. But you didn’t. You only sat yourself down a few feet away from him and felt your own tears begin to fall. “Y/L/N, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t leave, I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” you challenged. “I just want to help.”
“I don’t need your help,” he sneered, his wand still pointed at you.
“You’re bleeding, a lot, Draco,” you point to his bloodied hand that curled to his chest. “You know I can save you a trip to the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey’s interrogation.”
After a few moments of silence and a wand still pointed at you, you slowly scoot towards him. Your hand encloses around the one holding his wand and you lower it for him while he watches you. He was still crying and breathing heavily. His panic attack somehow getting worse now and no longer having the energy to fight you. You finally reach him, now knee to knee with him and you place a hand on his shoulder.
“Draco, just breath with me,” you say calmly. “In,” you took a long exaggerated inhale, and after a few seconds, “out,” and let out an equally exaggerated exhale. You did that with him for a while, his pained gray eyes focused on yours the whole time, never breaking eye contact. Once he was calmed down enough and was just left with the post crying hiccoughs, you took his injured hand in yours. There was shards and particles of glass stuck in his reddened and bloody skin.
You reached into your robe pocket and pulled out a set of tweezers you kept with you. You often found yourself getting splinters or tiny rocks stuck in your skin when your hands hit the pavement when you’d fall you try and catch yourself.
“This might hurt,” you warn, starting to remove one of the biggest pieces. He sharply inhales as you try your best to do take it out carefully.
It was quiet the rest of the process, just sniffles and gasps from Draco when you had removed a piece that especially hurt. When you were done, you waved your wand over the gashes and watched as they faded into faint pink scars. You got up, pulling him with you and took him to the sink where you rinsed off the blood from both your hands and his.
He couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know what. He just stared at you, dumbfounded and confused. You turned your body to face his and he did the same, eyeing you carefully and still very cautious to any move you made.
“I can leave now, if you’d like me to,” you offer quietly. He stayed silent, wondering if he should just send you off. But he didn’t want to. You had already seen him at his worst, and he was terribly alone, so he just shook his head ‘no.’ You looked up at him and decided to risk it all. “Can I give you a hug?”
Draco was stunned at the question, his heart pounding against his chest. “I suppose,” he managed to let out in a strained voice.
You slowly stepped closer to him and slid your arms up his biceps until your hands met behind his neck. You stood on your tippy toes and pulled him into you, his chin now resting on your shoulder as your hand smoothed the back of his head. You felt him stiff under your touch and as he got comfortable in your embrace, his arms raised from his sides and snaked around your waist, pushing you flush against him. You stayed like that for what felt like forever, and he held you tightly, not wanting to let go.
This was the first time in a long time that he had felt any type of relief. It had been such a constant uphill battle for him, day after day. He took a deep inhale accidentally, but the smell of your perfume and shampoo filling his nose and his mind made him feel at ease. The warmth of your body from underneath his fingertips brought him peace and succor.
“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair so quietly that if you weren’t so focused on him, you would’ve missed it.
“Anytime.”
That was the day Draco Malfoy became your friend.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
Potions class was no longer the only place you would see Draco. Now that the two of you were comfortable with one another and he trusted you more than anyone else, he found himself hanging out with you every day during his free time when he would be done messing with the cabinet.
It would be taking walks around the castle. Sneaking out at night and meeting behind statues to talk. Sitting together at a bench in the courtyard. Skipping stones along the Black Lake. It’s been months of this. Months of friendship he so desperately needed. You had helped him through several more panic attacks and meltdowns, each time coming closer together. He never told you about what caused them. The worst ones were when he found he had almost killed Katie Bell and Ron Weasley, and as much as you begged him to tell you, he kept his mouth shut.
He had spent so much time with you that it was affecting him. But for the better. He found himself eating again at the Slytherin table and his friends were more than excited to have him back. He still wasn’t too buddy-buddy with everyone as he once was, but he joined conversations and shared a couple jokes. He was even sleeping a little more. He was still beyond stressed, but it wasn’t as gut-wrenching. He enjoyed Potions again and even started paying a little more attention in his other classes. His new found energy even helped him greatly progress in mending the vanishing cabinet, finally making a breakthrough in fixing it.
He would lie awake at night sometimes and thank Merlin you crashed into his life, literally. You were like an angel to him, healing his heart with every word and smile and touch you sent his way. It was easy with you. He tried his best to keep his emotions at bay, reminding himself that when he would have to follow through with his task, he would lose you and that thought pained him to no end. But he was selfish, and he adored you with every fiber of his being so he couldn’t leave you alone. And especially not when he needed you most.
Today, you lied in the grass, shoulder to shoulder and staring up at the sky and watching the clouds. You were a little ways from the castle, away from all your other classmates and teachers and it was nice. Finally being able to enjoy time with the Slytherin Prince without people gawking at the two of you.
“My mother used to do this with me when I was a small,” Draco trailed off, his eyes following a particular funny shaped cloud. “She would take me out to the garden behind the Manor, usually when father was doing some work at the ministry. But we would sit against this tall oak tree and I’d be on her lap and she’d have her arms wrapped around me and she would point out the funniest shaped clouds and try to pinpoint what they resemble. Sometimes she’d even joke around and say the weirdest shaped cloud looked like father.”
You giggled at that last part, your heart swelling at the story. He rarely talked about his family, but when he did, it would always be of his mother and a happy memory he had with her, never his father.
“Draco, can I ask you something?” you turn onto your side, your elbow holding you up as you gazed down at him.
“What do you wanna know, darling?” you blushed at the nickname but brushed it aside, knowing he only meant it in a friendly way.
“Forgive me if it’s rude, you don’t have to answer,” you begin, “but do you miss your father? I know it’s none of my business and I’m so sorry the Daily Prophet put your family business on blast like that. I can’t imagine how that must have felt.”
Draco frowned and followed you in turning onto his side and propping himself up with his elbow to face you. You remembered the image of Draco and his mother on the newspaper, bright lights flashing across their faces as all the press tried to get picture of them after the sentencing of Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban. You remembered seeing Draco look so sad, yet strong beside his mother as he looked from her and then into the camera with disdain.
“Sometimes, I do,” he answers, eyebrows furrowed as he thought of his father. “My whole life, he’s expected nothing short of perfection from me. There were no room for mistakes, and if I made any, I would be punished for them. I remember coming to Hogwarts was like an escape, a place where I could finally sort of relax and be a child. I don’t miss his scolding or his coldness. But I miss having a father, I miss going home on that first day of summer and seeing both my parents even if he was going to reprimand me for something later on in the day. He’s been with me my whole life, and now he’s gone, stuck in a cell in Azkaban. He’s never going to be the same. Home is never going to be the same.”
You felt tears prick your eyes as you listened to the boy beside you, a distant look in his eyes as he turned back over on his back to look at the sky in the middle of his explanation. You sat up and he did the same, looking at you with a frown when he noticed you were about to cry. You took your hand in his and held it tightly.
“I’m sorry, Draco,” you mumble. “You don’t deserve any of the bad things you’ve been through.”
“I do,” he shrugs. “I’ve been a real git since I’ve been at Hogwarts, you know.”
“You’re different now,” you say. “Sure, you still haven’t lost a little bit of the Malfoy snobbishness and you’re still a bit of a git, but you’re kinder and more gentle. You’re a lot more empathetic and perceptive. I mean, I’ve never spoken to you prior to this year, but your reputation follows and the Draco in front of me doesn’t seem anything like the Draco you were.”
“How you’ve managed to insult me while complimenting me is something I’ve never seen anyone be able to do successfully is astonishing,” he laughs, a smile growing on his face as you laughed with him.
“I’m serious, Dray,” you giggle, “I think you’re a good person.”
“I’m not good,” he thinks to himself. The compliment leaving your lips made him feel foul. He didn’t deserve to have such a kind soul complimenting him to be something he’d never amount to. He frowned and harshly stood up, and you quickly followed. Suddenly afraid that you might have overstepped your boundaries.
“Where are you going?” You ask, fear trembling in your voice. He begins to hurriedly walk off and you chase after him, stopping in front of him so you could place your hands on his chest to stop him.
“Y/N, let me go,” he pleads. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“I think I’ve been around you long enough to know who you are.”
“Not long enough.”
You stare up at him, but he refuses to look at you. His body feels rigid under your touch and it pains you to see him beginning to shut down again.
“I know something has been bothering you this year, and I know it’s not just because of what happened with your father,” you start. “I don’t know what is hurting you so deeply enough to make you hate yourself, but I’m here to tell you that whatever that thing is, it doesn’t define you.”
Draco swallows thickly, the tears already falling down his cheeks. “It does, it does.”
“No, it doesn’t,” you cry with him. “Even if you don’t see your goodness, I do.”
Both you and Draco are crying, the tree you were now standing under was swaying violently in the wind, as if it was picking up on your guys’ emotions. You placed a hand on his cheek, and he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours.
“I’m not good,” he whispers to you, “and once you see that, you’re going to hate me.”
“I could never hate you, Draco Malfoy,” you promise, a complete sincerity in your voice that it makes his heart jump.
Draco lifts his head up and sniffles, he watched you do the same, peering up at him through your wet lashes. He brought his thumb up to smooth the crease in between your eyebrows, letting it fall down to your cheeks where he wiped away the stray tears that had stilled. His hand then landed on your mouth that was pulled down in a grimace that matched his own. His thumb grazed over your lips, the softness of them nearly driving him mad. He wanted nothing more than to feel them against his own, but he couldn’t bring himself to kiss you. He didn’t want to drag you into the darkness of his life more than he already has.
“Kiss me,” you said to him, so softly but it rang loud in his ears. You had seen the way he looked at you and how he seemed so focused on your lips. You knew what he was thinking because it was exactly what you were thinking. You wanted this just as badly as he did. “Kiss me.”
Every argument he had in his head vanished and suddenly he closed the small space between the two of you and gently placed his lips onto yours. It was a fluid movement, like two puzzle pieces fitting together.
Your hands found their way in his hair, holding him closer to you and he did the same by gripping onto your hips. His lips were soft against yours, filled with fervor and desire. He was gentle with you, but you could still feel the deepness of his kiss and how it intensified with each second. He had put all his emotions into it, his care, his appreciation, his want, his sadness, his grief, his love.
When he pulled away and the two of you stood there staring at each other with love stricken eyes, he realized he had made a grave mistake.
He realized he was in love with you. He realized that he would never be able to let you go, and you would never let him go. And he knew that with the direction his life was going in, one way or another, you would get hurt and he would lose you, maybe even to death itself.
So in that moment he knew. As much as he loved you and wanted more than anything to be with you, he couldn’t put you in that position where you would be staring evil and death in the face. He wouldn’t tarnish your beautiful soul like that.
“I have to go,” he breathed out. “Please, leave me alone. For good.”
And with that he turned away, leaving you standing under the tree with tears falling down your face, a sob escaping your throat and the sound of your knees hitting the grass below you. He held back his own cries and walked faster away from you, knowing you had finally done damage to yourself that you couldn’t heal, and it was all his fault.
PART 2
#draco malfoy#draco x reader#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader#draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader#draco malfoy x gryffindor#draco malfoy x slytherin#draco x y/n#draco malfoy x y/n#draco x you#draco malfoy x you#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco imagine#draco malfoy angst#draco malfoy fluff#draco malfoy series#draco malfoy x female reader#harry potter writing#harry potter imagine#harry potter
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The inn at Border Watch was at first glance populated; and I assumed that meant it was jovial; hence it was quite to my surprise, when closing the door, and inspecting the place from the shoe-scraper (for Blackwood is as damp as you have heard), I found my impressions at once dashed. Certainly there were plenty of patrons; but rather than entertain some animated chatter, they held their heads together in close conversation; and every so often looked witheringly at their landlady.
That this woman equally disparaged her customers, was perfectly evident by the vehemence with which she ran her dishcloth over her plates; and the cutting politeness with which she received me.
‘Full this evening,’ said she.
‘Oh!’ said I: ‘I suppose it has become more popular of late?’
‘Of late?’ said she.
‘The name Border Watch,’ said I, – although I was beginning to doubt it, under her damnable stare, – ‘is on a lot of lips these days.’
Her eyebrow did not raise quite enough; I was discouraged; I interrupted myself to order a drink, – which she poured slowly, and without feeling. I began to wonder if I had got the thing right; and regretted that I had not brought my sources.
At last, when I had sipped from the drink, and found it to taste mostly of dishcloth, she blinked and said:
‘I suppose you’ve come about the cheese.’
‘Cheese?’ said I.
‘Stinkiest in all Cyrodiil,’ said she: ‘maybe the world. There is none brave enough to check.’
With that she gestured to a cabinet next to the bar, in which she was keeping a moderately blue cheese; although whether it had started out blue, was very much debatable. The cabinet was apparently merited; and once I had stared at it for a few moments, I took another mouthful of my drink, which rather against my intentions somewhat diminished my confidence. Nevertheless I said:
‘Is this the place which had the hail of flaming dogs; or, –’
‘No.’
‘Oh!’ said I: ‘I was sure it was here. It was in the Courier, –’
‘Then you read wrong,’ said she.
And with such unreasonable force, that I sceptic, turned to the other patrons. They having heard the conversation, shrugged as if to say: You will not get any further than we did.
‘Apparently you really thought it was the end of the world,’ I ventured: ‘I should not blame you.’
‘If it had happened,’ said she: ‘which it did not.’
I had touched a nerve; and as if to pacify her, stared at the cheese once again. – Wondered quite off-hand, what sort of visions one might get, if one were to attempt eating it. – The other patrons had also come in the expectation of a story; and had been likewise disappointed. The landlady was stubborn, almost to the point of madness, –
Of madness!
‘I believe,’ said I feigning change of subject, ‘that we are a couple of miles from a shrine to Sheogorath. I wonder: do its patrons ever bother you, here?’
‘Sometimes they did,’ said she. ‘Sometimes they did…’
Did not look at me; but I saw some wildness in her eyes, which brimmed beneath, and hardly suited her. Another vicious wipe with the dishcloth, – of the same plate, always the same plate. I made to put some other question to her. Before I might even open my mouth, her eyes glinted and she said:
‘Not any more, though, madam, – not any more,’
and I half mad myself with curiosity, nevertheless said nothing; and then at last, mildly, inquired about the cheese.
------
(from an oblivion character prompt from ages ago, from @elavoria, that i write about s’thasa, the landlady at border watch)
#breton girl writes#had this sitting as a wip for absolutely ages because i didn't know where to end it#still not quite satisfied... but here it is anyway#the voice is possibly julianne's possibly just the 'interested traveller' voice i put on sometimes
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Arrange marriage where they knew since they were kids. How will this affect their school life?
The problem with knowing his entire life that he was going to marry Sirius meant that there was never any time to get to know each other. Oh they were forced together plenty of times-- more times than James could count, to be honest-- but they never spent time together just to talk, as friends. Of course, that was probably because they weren't friends. The chance of friendship had been hexed into oblivion when they were all of two years old and their parents signed a marriage contract for them.
They didn't like each other, and that's all there was to it. James tried to stay optimistic and tell himself that they'd grow on each other after they were living together, but every time they were in the same room, his hope for that sank into nothingness. They glared; they sniped; they played pranks on each other that were more mean than entertaining. It got to the point where their parents didn't tell them the location they were meeting at ahead of time so they didn't have time to put anything together.
And that was all before they got to Hogwarts. After that, there was nothing their parents could do to keep them from picking fights with each other.
A month into first year, and they had their nights filled with detention. Their fellow Gryffindors had taken to shunning them for all the points they'd lost, which meant that they spent more time around each other; they just didn't enjoy themselves very much. A while later, they both received strongly worded letters from their parents telling them to clean up their act. At once. Naturally, James and Sirius both went out of their ways to make sure they didn't get caught as often instead of actually being nicer to each other.
When they were thirteen though, they called a truce. James was tired of polishing old trophies-- he was pretty sure he'd cleaned up Hogwarts's entire collection during his years of detention-- and he knew that Sirius was tired of checking his bed for traps every night before he went to sleep.
Calling a truce didn't make them nice to each other, though.
"What the fuck are you eating?" James asked.
"Toast, you berk. When was the last time you got your eyes checked?"
James rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I can see that you're eating toast, arsehole. I meant why?"
"Because it's breakfast. That's when most people eat things like toast."
"Toast doesn't have enough calories. You need to eat more."
"Don't tell me what to do," Sirius said, glaring at him.
Peter sighed heavily. "Aren't you two getting along? I thought you said that."
"What we said was that pranking each other was no longer worth our time," Sirius said. He then took an overly large bite of toast and chewed it angrily.
"It keeps the dormitory quiet, like you asked," James added. "Really, add beans or something. You're going to starve to death."
"I've managed to not die my entire life without you sticking your nose in my eating habits, and I will continue to be just fine without your input. So bugger off."
"I'll bugger off when you start eating more. You're going to get pissy halfway through Potions, and it's not going to get any better until hours after lunch. We did this exact same thing yesterday! And the day before. And the day before that, too. This entire bloody term, as a matter of fact."
Things continued in that vein until Sirius and James both stalked off for the library, ostensibly to finish their essays for Transfiguration. In truth, they had found out-- separately, of course-- that Remus was a werewolf and come to the same conclusion: the best way to help him out during the full moon would be to become animagi. Far more important than doing homework-- though their homework had already been finished.
*
It was the summer before sixth year, and they had had one glorious month apart. The Black Family had taken a trip back to Thailand, which meant that James had had a glorious thirty days without having to see Sirius or hear his parents tell him that he should go visit him.
Unfortunately, they were back in Britain, and their parents hadn't wasted any time in setting up a date for all of them to have dinner together.
James sighed but didn't put up a fight when it was time to get ready. He'd put up years of resistance, to no avail. Now that they were nearly of age, his parents had been cracking down even harder about his behaviour when it came to Sirius. He prepared himself for a boring evening of sitting in an uncomfortable chair while either ignoring Sirius or exchanging glares with him. The glares would be few and far between because it would involve actually looking at each other, and past that, they couldn't risk getting caught by their parents. They'd mostly taken to being silent while in the same room; it was the easiest way of keeping their truce intact, they'd learned. They didn't say a word to each other in the dormitory unless they absolutely had to.
He thought he knew exactly what to expect from tonight, which is why he was completely thrown when he saw Sirius again.
Sirius was... gorgeous. There was no other way to describe the changes to his appearance. It was nothing big. He hadn't experienced any major changes to his features, but he was different. He'd gone and gotten handsome in their time apart, and James couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was that had changed. All he knew for sure was that when he saw him, his heart skipped a beat, and he felt the familiar stir of arousal in his stomach-- a familiar feeling in general, but never when it came to Sirius. He didn't like Sirius. He'd never fancied him or thought about him with anything approaching happiness. He was stuck with Sirius, and that's all there was to it.
Except... well, except it felt different now. He couldn't take his eyes off Sirius. Or- he could, but his gaze kept going back to Sirius like they were magnets, drawn together. No one said anything to him about his staring, but he didn't fool himself into thinking that meant no one had noticed it.
After dinner, James and Sirius were left alone. The idea was that they could talk and get to know each other better before they got married. They'd never really used the time for that. Last year during the summer, they sat in separate chairs and didn't say a word the entire time. It had been better than the year before, where they kept poking at each other-- sometimes literally, sometimes only with their words.
This time, James felt too uncomfortable to sit. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood awkwardly. Sirius threw himself into a chair, managing to look graceful instead of flopping around like a fish out of water, which is what James looked like when he tried to do the same thing at home.
"Are you feeling alright?" Sirius asked. "You were acting weird at dinner."
"Fine."
Sirius snorted. Instead of annoying James like it usually did, he found himself reluctantly charmed. "Right, because this is what you act like when you're fine."
"If you're such an expert on how I act, then why don't you already know what's wrong with me?"
"I didn't say anything was wrong with you; I said you were acting weird. And you are. If you want to pretend like you're not, that's your bloody business, and I'm sorry I bothered to ask."
James wanted to snap back. At this point, it was a reflex. Sirius was right; he didn't have to ask, but he had anyways. Sirius had been under no obligation to ask if he was feeling alright, but he had. It was a sign of him reaching out. James had no idea why he had tried, but now that he was feeling differently, maybe he shouldn't discourage it. After all, they were going to be married. They were going to have to spend the rest of their lives together. He might as well try to get along with Sirius before they were forced to live together full time, with only each other for company in the house. (At least, alone until they had kids, but that was a completely different problem, one he didn't want to worry about for another ten years or so.) "No, sorry, I just... I dunno. I feel out of sorts." He forced himself to relax and sat on the couch. "How was your trip to Thailand?"
Sirius looked at him suspiciously for a moment-- likely wondering why he was asking-- but he replied, "Regulus was so nervous he barely left the house, but other than that it was good."
"Why was he nervous?" James asked, frowning.
"He thinks that he isn't fluent in Thai. Which he is. But because of it, he didn't want to talk to anyone or go to any stores, and if we went out to eat, he refused to order for himself."
"That sounds really buggering annoying."
"He's just a nervous sodding berk. At this point, I'm not convinced that he's made of anything but anxiety."
"Lovely."
"Mm," Sirius hummed. "What've you been up to this summer? Quidditch?"
"How'd you guess?" James said dryly, but he was smiling.
"Don't you think you practice enough?"
"Normally, yes, but I'm going to be captain next year. I need to do better."
"Right, because being better than everyone else at Hogwarts is a clear sign that you're slacking."
"Why Sirius, that almost sounded like a compliment."
Sirius tossed him a smirk. "Don't let it go to your head."
It was too late for that. Sirius was horribly attractive now, and on top of it, he was being nice to James. James didn't stand a chance.
*
"What the hell are you doing?" Regulus asked.
Sirius didn't jump in surprise-- which was good, because it would've ruined his eyeshadow-- but he was startled. Regulus usually couldn't sneak up on him. "Putting on makeup, what's it look like?" he responded evenly.
"Right, but why? You're going over to the Potter's; it's not as if you need to look nice."
Sirius ignored that. He decidedly did not appreciate the realisation that came across Regulus's face.
"You fancy him. You've hated James for years, but now you fancy him."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Sirius said, putting down the brush and checking his work.
"You're a sodding liar," Regulus said, grinning widely. "I am happy for you. It would've been horrible if you married him while still despising him. That being said, does he know that you like him now? Because I don't think all the makeup in the world is going to clue him in to how you feel."
"I don't feel anything."
Regulus snorted. "Sure. Have fun getting lunch with your fiance."
"I will. You can have fun sitting in your room refusing to go anywhere or do anything."
"I will," Regulus said, sticking out his tongue because he wasn't nearly as grown-up as he liked to pretend. Fortunately, Sirius couldn't care less how grown-up he was or wasn't.
Sirius none-too-kindly shoved Regulus out of the washroom and checked his hair in the mirror. He didn't have time to do anything fancy, but he needed to make sure it wasn't sticking up or summat. Unfortunately, it wasn't behaving. He grabbed some gel and tried to tame it into place.
He didn't quite know why he was bothering. Regulus was right; if James still thought that Sirius didn't like him, then it wouldn't really matter how good he looked. And beyond that, there was the concern that, well, even if James did know that Sirius liked him and thought that he looked good, he'd seen Sirius looking all kinds of mussed and grumpy. It didn't make a difference how good Sirius could look now, because James knew how not good he looked first thing in the morning.
And all of that being said, Sirius was pretty sure that James fancied him. At least a little. Okay maybe it was a stretch to say that he fancied Sirius, but he definitely found him fit. His eyes lingered far too much and in too fond a way for him to still hate Sirius. Besides, he might be going over to the Potter's house right now, but James was the one that had asked him, not his parents. Sirius thought this might count as their first official date, and instead of making him nauseous-- like the thought of it had for so many years-- it made him excited. The two of them had spent their entire lives hating each other simply because their parents had gotten them engaged, but now they were finally talking. Sirius knew things about James that weren't connected to what bothered him and how much.
*
Moony and Wormtail blinked at them. "You're sitting next to each other," Wormtail said, stunned.
"Well spotted," Sirius said.
"Voluntarily," Moony added.
"Are you going somewhere with this?" James wondered aloud.
"I think mostly we're wondering what the hell happened over the summer. Do you like each other now?" Remus asked.
Sirius and James shared a look. Then they turned to Remus and nodded.
"That's... good, right?" Peter said. "Like, you're getting married next year. I was half-convinced you were going to murder each other, but you'll be fine now, right?"
"Yes, but I feel the need to point out that we wouldn't have killed each other. It's in the marriage contract," Sirius said.
"Please tell me you're joking," Moony said, making the face he always did when he learned about pureblood norms.
James shook his head. "Nope, it's in there. You lose your magic if you murder your spouse. Besides, we didn't hate each other that much."
"Could've fooled me," Peter said. "And, y'know, everyone else that's ever seen the two of you interact."
"Ancient history, mates," Sirius said carelessly. It was sort of ancient history, at least. He could see it happening again if he tried to kiss James and was rejected. Sirius was self-aware enough to know that he wouldn't take that rejection with grace. In fact, he knew that he would become positively impossible to live with if that happened. He was counting on that not happening, though. It's why he hadn't tried it yet. He was giving it time. Enough time that James should make the first move, in his opinion.
He had personally made the first several steps to repairing their relationship, so this one was on James. Hopefully, James would clue in to that before too long. Sirius was willing to wait for him to catch up, but that didn't mean he wanted to wait forever.
*
Sirius had his hand held out in front of him, admiring the engagement ring. James, he'd learned, was an incurable romantic. They had both known that they were going to be married the summer after their eighteenth birthdays for as long as they could remember. It had been a political move by their parents, and no one had been surprised that they weren't immediately in love with each other. Now that they were horribly, sappily in love, James said that he wanted for their engagement to feel different now.
There had been several stipulations to it, some of which Sirius was happily on board with, others more reluctant. The engagement ring, for example, felt nice. James had picked it out himself-- had designed it, actually, since he'd said that buying one already made didn't feel right. Getting a ring made Sirius feel like their relationship was different. He also liked James (half-jokingly) calling him Mr. Potter-Black when they saw each other first thing in the morning. It was sweet, even if it was clear that James liked to say it a lot more than Sirius liked hearing it.
The things- well, thing, because it was only the one thing that Sirius didn't like-- the thing that Sirius didn't like, leading up to the wedding, was that James said they shouldn't do more than some light snogging. He said it would make their married life feel more special if they saved the rest of their physical relationship for after the ceremony. Sirius saw the appeal to that in an abstract way, but in the tangible way, he was horny and James was sodding fit. Not to mention, he was a bloody teenager. He was never going to be more sexually frustrated than when he was this age-- at least, he hoped so, because if it got worse he was going to die-- and he had a boyfriend who he knew for a fact was attracted to him, and yet they weren't going to do anything.
This was his fault. He'd agreed to it. If he'd stuck out his bottom lip and looked James directly in the eye and whispered, "Please?" James would've caved. But no, Sirius had wanted to be a good partner, so he'd said they could wait. And okay, it's not like he really minded, and he had no intention of changing his mind, but it was impossible not to imagine what it would be like to be able to roll into James's bed and finally have a hand other than his own.
Point is, his engagement ring was gorgeous, and it was much nicer to look at the ring and feel butterflies in his stomach rather than stress about the fact that he was going to be a husband soon, and he didn't know if he knew how to fill that role.
Next to him, Regulus groaned in annoyance. "If I had known you would be this insufferable, I never would've wanted you and James to like each other."
"How rude," Sirius said mildly. "Isn't it pretty?"
"Yes."
Sirius looked over at him. "You didn't look at it."
"I've seen it before, shocking as the concept might be to you. I swear, falling in love made you lose half of your brain."
"Still smarter than you are."
"You're older; you're supposed to be smarter right now."
"Keep telling yourself that."
Regulus glared at him. "Don't you want to go bother James about something?"
"No," Sirius said shortly, and his brother raised an eyebrow. "He's busy all day."
"Then write him a letter, telling him how much you miss him."
"You know, Reggie, if my pining is bothering you, you're welcome to go read in another room. Say, your own?"
"What's stopping you from pining in your room? Why do I have to be the one to leave?"
"Because I was here first," Sirius said with a smile. "And you're the one who's getting annoyed."
Regulus hmph'd but didn't move, other than to sink down further in his seat.
Sirius turned back to admiring the ring. It really was gorgeous. He wondered if it would look better if he painted his nails. After a minute, he pulled his parchment back to him and wrote James a letter, as Regulus had suggested. It wasn't anything terribly important, and it didn't contain anything he hadn't said a dozen times before. He missed him, he loved him, he couldn't wait until they got to see each other again.
He sent it off, and it was less than an hour later that he got a reply.
Sirius,
I wish I had time to say more, but I miss you too. Everything's so sodding busy right now, but I should be free this weekend, if you wanted to spend some time together?
Yours,
Love James
Sirius stroked his thumb over the word 'love', treasuring it. It was silly and it made him feel like maybe he was too heavy in this, but James loving him was nothing short of a miracle. And it was a miracle he was going to appreciate every day.
#prongsfoot#fanfic#marauders#james potter#sirius black#regulus black#remus lupin#peter pettigrew#filled#hogwarts time#no voldemort au#getting together#siriuslystarbucks
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What is a Fairy?
I suppose they probably need some explanation, especially nowadays. Fairies (Faeries, Fay, Fey, Fae, or even Fair Folk) could be considered a type of mythical being. Some have described them as spirits, others as ghosts of the deceased, some deified ancestors, prehistoric precursors to humans, personifications of nature, pagan deities, or even angels and demons in the way of Christian traditions. Often they encompass a metaphysical aspect, being depicted as spirits or beings who transcend the physical universe and world that we know. Or given features of the Supernatural, such as magic or extrasensory perception, which allow them to violate or go beyond the laws of nature. Even sometimes Preternatural, which something abnormal or strange and explainable but still within the boundaries of the natural laws of the universe (for example I could say someone is a preternaturally good cellist, and mean that they are impossibly good beyond expectations or even belief, but I’m not saying that they are actually magical...just that their apparent abilities and how they gained them are unknown and very strange to me.) But what is a fairy? Well you already know what some of them look like. Many people might immediately picture Tinkerbell from the animated Disney feature film, or even from the original Peter Pan novel by J. M. Barrie. And they would be correct, in part. Tinkerbell is a depiction of a Pixie, a specific type of fairy. But there are lots of fairy types, I don’t actually think there’s a complete list. (I should probably try to make one at some point, but no promises.) During some points in history the label of fairy was used to mean magical beings who had a mostly human shape. Gnomes, leprechauns, goblins, pixies, dwarfs, elfs, etc etc etc. And at other points it also included non humanoid magical creatures such as Unicorns, Dragons, Kelpie, Basilisk, and more (Sometimes these were referred to as Fairy Creatures). So where did they come from? Well the funny thing is that Fairies don’t actually come from only one area or set of myths. They are a strange combination of the folklore from all over Europe (and possibly beyond) and include ideas and stories from Celtic, Scandinavian, Nordic, Germanic, French, and English Folklore and Mythology. As these stories were passed around and intermingled and changed they brought about the collective creatures we know today as the Fae or Fairies. The Renaissance, Romantic Era, Victorian Era, Edwardian Era, and even the Celtic Revival Movement of the 19th and 20th centuries all had their influences on the stories and ideas connected with the Fairy folk, some significantly less helpful than others. Even the Fantasy Literature Genre, with Tolkien at its forefront, has added and changed much about people’s view on these creatures. So lets talk about some basic things you’ll want to know when dealing with Fairies. The first thing you might want to remember is that many people view the Tuatha Dé Danann (Supernatural gods, goddesses, heroes, and kings of Irish Mythology) as being the source for Faeries, or at least one of the strongest influences. Celtic Folklore and culture is easily one of the most visible bits of Faerie lore that you can find these days, but there’s a lot more that starts showing up when you begin to dig. Another thing to note is that the Renaissance, Romantic Era, Victorian Era, Edwardian Era, and the Celtic Revival Movement had a massive influence on how people saw fairies. They would mix folklore from different areas of Europe, attempted to prove the existence of fairies through scientific means, created artistic depictions of fairies, and much more. Often they sanitized and shrunk the fairies until they were mostly harmless or relegated to the outskirts of human life as a curiosity. Which brings me to the next point. In a lot of older folklore, from all over Europe, fairy beings are often depicted as being incredibly dangerous. Kidnapping humans or human babies, causing crops to wither, water to dry up, food to rot. They could lure people in with magic into a fairy ring of mushrooms and make them dance forever or make them forget their life. Sometimes they even played with time itself. A person could dance with the fairies only to find that they’ve been gone a hundred years when they try to go home. And many beliefs have depictions of some kind of Otherworld, a world apart from our own, or layered over it like an extra dimension we are unable to perceive or directly interact with. Sometimes its a land of the dead or a hidden underground kingdom, other times is a strange and fantastical country with its own laws and ways of doing things. As these stories meshed together we got what is known as Fairyland. The land which the fairies dwell in. Though some believe they simply live on Earth, hidden in the wild, or among us. Some reoccurring ideas are often connected with fairies, though not all have stayed the same as the original lore they were born from. The idea that Faeries, for whatever reason, are unable to or will not lie. This is a very important idea because the Folk are also simultaneously depicted as deceptive. Like particularly vicious lawyers they will play with words, never quite lying, but purposefully leading you astray or tricking you into a bad deal. They will often obey an oath, promise, or deal exactly to the letter, but ignore the intent behind it in order to twist it to their own benefit or amusement. Whether or not fairies are immortal depends entirely on where you draw your folklore from. Sometimes they are immortal; deathless, not mortal. Unable to die in spite of starvation, terrible wounds, age, or anything else. They are bound to life for all time. But some stories depict the stranger Fae Folk as being Eternal. Beyond time, always having existed and always existing, sometimes cycling, sometimes directionless and boundless and everything. Some tough concepts to get your head around, but nobody really agrees which one fairies are. In some folklore they’re even depicted as mortal, same as you and I, but a lot longer lived and harder to kill. A reoccurring motif in older Folklore is the need of humans to try and ward off fairies with charms and totems. When they were not depicted as outright malicious and dangerous, sometimes being thought to cause illness and death or bring about disastrous misfortune or steal a person’s name and voice, fairies were still mischievous and valiantly unhelpful. So people had all kinds of lucky charms to protect from them: like four leaf clovers, various plants, or actions like wearing your clothes inside out to confuse them. Iron is said in many beliefs to burn them, and certain herbs they view as sacred and will refrain from touching the bearer. A few more things. Christianity plays an important part in this discussion, though many people don’t like that. In many places myths and legends were wiped out by Christianity, either intentionally or simply by the very fact that it was trying to convert people in Europe and old pagan beliefs were seen as nonsensical. But still stories persisted despite this. Many old Myths and Folkloric beliefs were recorded for posterity by Christians, and some stories were altered and we are unable to see exactly how much (Beowulf). A lot of fairy stories remained too, only Christianity painted them as fallen angels or even demons of a kind, who could be kept away from Holy Ground, or were forced to kidnap humans to pay a tithe to Hell (or be taken themselves if they couldn’t pay). So folk beliefs, though generally discouraged by the church as superstition, remained quite strong all over Europe for a very long time. The last three things you need to know. One, there are many people who still believe in Fairies, though their beliefs often vary, sometimes wildly. Witches who claim to work with them. People who believe in them through their religions (usually pagans and other non christian groups). People who claim to have encountered or been abducted by them. And many others. While I personally do not believe in Fairies (though I like to keep an open mind, just in case), I do believe that the beliefs, cultures, and and rights of these people ought to be respected. Which leads me to other mythical beings that are similar to Fairies but hail from cultures and peoples outside of Europe. It might be tempting to label some of the spirits from various Native North American Tribes or from Chinese Folklore (or many others) as fairies. Don’t do that. If Fairies are real, you have to consider that there might be other mythical beings who fall under different categories and groups. And even if they are not real, it is extremely disrespectful to the people of those cultures to take their stories, myths, beliefs, and folklore and try to mesh it in with European Folklore. (this is exactly what the Victorian and Edwardian Era were guilty of.) And finally... Some people might tell you that they know everything there is to know about Fairies. Don’t believe them. Even I, who have spent years and years studying European Faerie Folklore, find new things about them every day. I have sources I’ve found and haven’t yet had the time to look into, areas of study I’ve had to neglect. There is so much about Fairies to explore that it’s quite literally impossible for any one person to know all of it. Personally I’m doubtful that a single person can even know an eighth of it all, you can hardly imagine how much there is. And while there is a great deal of it buried on the internet, there is even more offline. Books which are out of print or have never had their contents uploaded, cultural stories passed down in various European groups which are saved from oblivion only by the oratory tradition, and the remains of all kinds of long dead or vastly changed civilizations who believed in the Fairies and tried to work with or avoid or appease them. All the misinformation and personal gnoses out there also make it a lot harder to find accurate information about traditional folklore. And that’s not even counting the multitude of inventions and ideas spawned by fictional literature surrounding fairies. There is simply too much. But of course... Since when has something being impossible ever stopped a human from trying anyway? If you’re still interested, then who am I to discourage you? Go, jump right in. There’s so much to learn about the Faerie Folk.
#what is a faerie#faerie#fairy#fae#folklore#mythology#european folklore#brief explanation#(hah. I've never been brief in my life. I'm not going to start now)
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So, inspired by Shuttershocky’s own character opinions, I think I’ll start doing my own.
And no, I’m not doing Mordred first. She comes later.
Nah, considering a certain Ruler’s recent reveal, I think I’ll talk about a certain Shirou-face.
So quick overview of Angra Mainju-
He’s not actually the Zoroastrian god of Evil. No, he’s actually more like Sasaki Kojiro- The guy who the myth of Angra Mainju is BASED off of. He was just some ordinary villager who drew the shortest of straws and was used as a scapegoat for the sins of his villagers, tortured for decades until he died of old age. Because of this, he has a pretty nasty hatred of humanity. Which you would think would disqualify him from being a Heroic Spirit (I mean, logically who would consider him a hero?) but it’s said that his torture put the villagers at ease, meaning he did technically do a heroic deed and thus was preserved by the Throne of Heroes.
In the Third Holy Grail War, the Einsberns tried to summon the evil god but, for a multitude of reasons that include it not existing in the first place, they got him instead. Problem? The guy isn’t a normal hero, he’s a village boy who got tortured. He doesn’t have any special powers or even a proper Noble Phantasm. So of course, he gets his ass kicked. But thing is, he was so weak the Grail thought he was a human and thus tried to grant his wish.
Which was to actually BECOME All The World’s Evil.
And so the Grail tried to do it...but things got fucky. So the next two wars are basically just attempts at bring his wish to life. He...kind of exists here? Issue is that in Fate/Zero and Fate/Stay Night, Angra Mainju is more a force of nature or a being of pure evil rather than the tortured village boy he actually is. So for simplicity’s sake AND due to how radically different ‘All The World’s Evil’ is- I’ll just skip over his supposed presence in those two and move on.
Despite his wished for form’s destruction in Fate/Stay Night, Angra Mainju survived. In fact, his time as “All The World’s Evil” turned him into a proper Heroic Spirit, giving him an actual Noble Phantasm and actual status as a Heroic Spirit. Here, he gains a sort of obsession with granting wishes. So he goes around looking for someone’s wish to grant. During this time, he finds Bazett Frega McRemitz (AKA The ACTUAL Master of Cu Chulanin before Kirei decided to do what he does best: Fuck people over) dying, wishing not to die. And thus, Angra Mainju does his best to keep her alive. For 6 months, this meant keeping her alive but in a vegetative state.
After being discovered by Caren Hortensia (Kirei’s daughter. ... This is kind of important later), this meant keeping her alive AND sustaining her consciousness. To do this, he creates Fate/Hollow Ataraxia’s four day loop (the same length of time he survived his war.) Through this, he tricks Bazett into thinking that she’s participating in the Fifth Holy Grail War. Issue being, Angra knows little more than jackshit about said war so what ends up happening is that he uses the Third Grail War structure with Fifth Grail War players as stand-ins. He is also only active with Bazett at night, the catch being that the person that the player thinks they’re controlling (Shirou) is actually an unaware Angra, living out his own wish of a normal life.
At first, Angra is just being selfish and indulging himself during this time. However, over time, his interactions with the people in Shirou’s life, Shirou’s own influence over him (as having lost his identity, he effectively needs to adopt another’s to exist) and, most importantly, his new found relationship with Bazett and Caren causes him to try and end the four day loop. This going against his Master’s wishes, as she fears that she will die due to finding out about the loop and losing Avenger, who is assumed to become nothing once again. However, he manages to convince her by revealing he really did save her life and that she had to move on. So at the end, he and Bazett race to opposite ends of the Grail, Bazett back to life and Angra Mainju embracing oblivion once again.
So...yeah. Pretty heavy stuff even with me skipping some stuff.
We only really learn about Angra Mainju in Fate/Hollow Ataraxia, since that’s where we truly meet him as a person. And at the beginning...he’s not a good person. Avengers in general are known for being highly destructive, malicious and dangerous Servants because their Class effectively puts them on edge at all times, constant consumed by hate. As the first Avenger, Angra both embodies this and subverts it at the same time.
Yes he is consumed by hate. ... But said hate is not an emotional state like other Avengers. His hate is his nature by the point we meet him. Meaning he isn’t on edge like his fellows, he isn’t clouded by extreme emotion. For all his cynicism and malice, he’s by far the calmest and most rational Avenger we have seen so far. Which makes some of his actions (like killing a family to draw out his enemies) come across as even worse than normal since he isn’t openly insane. Even beyond this, Angra is a sarcastic asshole who loves fucking with people and being insulting.
However, as things go on, as he lives the life of Shirou Emiya and the Servant of Bazett, he gets better. Sure, he’s still rude as all hell. But the guy does show he cares about Bazett and thinks about her well being. He falls in love with Caren, who does love him back (if you’re wondering how: I believe it’s implied Caren suffers from the same condition Kirei did in regards to empathy. So makes sense she’d love an embodiment of hate and vengence) and he did enjoy living as Shirou, revealing that beneath the hate that became his nature- He’s just a normal guy who got SEVERELY fucked over. Hell, when Medusa was on the verge of morphing into Gorgon, Angra walks by and talks to her. He gives her a speech on what it means to be a monster and ends up helping her prevent her transformation, even though having her become a monster would help him make people suffer (and maybe even someone who understands him, as Gorgon is an Avenger herself.)
Just as his lack of emotional distress makes his evil actions worse, it also means he’s capable of change and becoming good. He learns love and care despite having lived a life no one could even comprehend, forced into a Class that is more like a curse than an honor. Despite his hatred of humanity, he still believes in it somewhat. He adopts some of Shirou’s heroic traits through living his life. And at the very end, this jackass who started things off by killing random innocents...ends up making the ultimate sacrifice, one where he gains nothing but loses everything, where he really doesn’t want to do it...all because he came to care for Bazett.
I’ll admit, I sobbed at the end.
Now, Angra isn’t really used in any serious manner after this. He appears in the Accel/Zero and Christmas in the Underworld events...mostly as jokes. However, I would like to note his Bond 10 Craft Essence. These CEs are effectively summations of the characters themselves. For example, Mordred’s Bond 10 effectively sums up her identity issues. And Angra Mainju’s?
It’s all about how he was a necessary evil, his life taken from him, hatred burned into him...
...and how Caren, despite seeing it all, still loved him.
And the CEs effect? A Guts buff and the ability to hurt Beast class enemies in a way no other Servant can replicate.
In essence, that love gives him the ability to keep living (with his strongest skill KILLING him btw) and to more effectively protect the world. And considering how the Beasts are related to humanity, it might just be because that love made him human again.
In short, Angra Mainju is a person forced into a role, his nature overwritten by his torture, cursed by fate because of others, indulging in his role because it’s all he knows-
And yet, even he finds a way to become a better person. All culminating in a sacrifice that can only be described as ‘Heroic’.
He truly is a Heroic Spirit.
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