#i survived and because I kept writing i kept that spark alive

[stylesispunk]

"You're always on my mind"

Joel Miller x f!reader.

summary: You are Joel's reason to live and he is yours.

word count: 3k

warnings: some fluff and heavy angst.

a/n: I'm still on my writing break, but I couldn't take this one out of my head, so you have it here. I don't want to go into details because it would spoil the whole fic, but this is pretty much based on a movie, and by the name and the song, you may get the idea which one is it. Reblogs and comments are appreciated, so please come here and tell me your thoughts. Happy reading 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Finding such beautiful things in a world like this was not an easy task. In a world like this, there was no spare room for distractions but survival.

In a tarnished world, you were a rose blooming out of the frozen ground, when neither the coldness of the cryptic winter could end your sweetness.

You were there even when your heart broke at the sight of him, defeated and lost without his Sarah; without the tiny baby he raised, he had also died that night back in September.

You were there when he became cold and Machiavellian, a distant ghost of the sweet man with the gleaming brown eyes that had smiled at you without asking anything in return.

And you were broken for him, anxious and afraid of him letting his life go away because the pain tightening inside his chest might have been stronger than all the love he had for you.

He was hurting you by hurting himself, and he knew it. He knew he was hurting you; he was aware of the pain he was causing just by looking at your somber gaze, lost in a state. Yet he couldn't care or see beyond his own pain. Beyond his own heart, shattered into pieces. He had lost his daughter and his baby, and he was losing you as you slipped through his fingers without a warning.

He had tried to end his life, but he had failed. He was going to leave you behind, to die alone, on your own, and hadn't even thought about it. He just simply decided he was going to die and find solace in the thought that he would be reunited with his daughter in the aftermath, in a peaceful world, while leaving you in the tarnished reality full of monsters and nightmares. Along with your fears and pain, suffocating your lungs. Alone, just by yourself, as if he weren't the only reason you were alive.

After the bullet rubbed the skin of his temple, you became silent. A ghost by his side. You weren’t able to look at the scar now healing on his skin, let alone look at his eyes.

And Joel’s heart was constricted against his ribs. Once he failed, he woke up from his trance, becoming aware that he hadn’t been looking after you as he should, but you were silent, and you were on his mind all the time.

You weren’t talking, but he knew you were broken because of him. Because he hadn't been strong enough to show you he loved you.

One day, as you were coughing, Joel's heart contracted against his ribs and lungs, and his breath had stopped as he listened to your complaints.

"You're sick," he said, looking at you, pacing angrily at him mostly.

Silence.

"You should drink water or-"

"Or one of those things is going to come after us, I know," you replied without giving a look.

“Do you want to get yourself-?"

"Killed? Yes, maybe I do want that." Your voice was motionless, as your eyes kept staring at the flames from the fire flying away to the sky, perhaps to the angels resting above.

"Don't you ever say that; you hear me?"

Silence, defeating silence. The kind you didn't like because it came from the darkest places of your mind.

"Answer me when I talk to you, please.” He looked for a glimpse of the spark that used to shine in your gaze. Joel's voice trembled with sadness as he stepped closer to you.

"You can't give up now," he pleaded, his voice barely above a tiny whisper.

You turned away from him, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze over your frame. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting flickering shadows across the ground.

“You were going to give up before, ” you whispered once you weren’t facing him.

Joel's heart sank at your words, the weight of them heavy in the air between you. He reached out a hand, hesitating, before gently resting it on your shoulder.

"I know," he admitted, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "I was lost. I was so consumed by my own pain that I couldn't see beyond it. But you brought me back."

You felt his touch, gentle over your skin, over your neck, but you couldn't bring yourself to face him. The wounds were so raw, and the pain was too fresh to even think about starting to heal.

"I'm sorry," Joel whispered, his voice filled with remorse and shame. "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I promise to do better."

Silence hung heavy between you, but it wasn't the suffocating silence of before. There was a tiny spark of fire, lighting up both of you.

Slowly, you turned to face him, searching his eyes for any sign of sincerity.

"You tried to kill yourself, Joel!" You called out, "You are in pain, but I am too! Sarah was mine too; maybe not by blood, but she was my daughter too." You sobbed, not being able to contain the tears from spilling. "You were going to leave me alone. Here and-"

He cut you off by pressing his lips against you, expressing all the love he held in his chest and on his whole body for you, as if he could send strength to you through his kiss.

"I love you; I love you; I love you," he murmured against your lips, recomforting, "I'm so sorry."

As Joel's lips met yours again, a flood of emotions washed over you: love, sorrow, forgiveness, and hope. His kiss was a silent confession, a promise to be there for you, to fight alongside you, no matter what challenges lay ahead. You were going to face them together.

Tears mingled with the warmth of his embrace as you melted into his arms, feeling the weight of the world begin to lift from off your shoulders. In that moment, you realized that despite the pain and the struggles, there was still beauty coming from the love you had built.

"I love you, too," you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with emotion. "I forgive you."

Joel pressed his forehead against yours, holding your face in his palms with such a delicate touch. "We keep each other alive," he murmured.

"We keep each other alive," you echoed softly, as your promise.

He kept the promise. He would live for you, and you would live for him; you were each other's reason to stay alive in this now mad world.

With time, he had let his guard down. Settling in a place like Jackson, in a world like this, it seemed like a dream and a nightmare at the same time. People were laughing, wearing nice clean clothes, and sleeping under a safe roof, and yes, it was nice, but Joel still felt reluctant. He didn't want this comfort to ruin what he had built with you.

But he couldn't help it. It was impossible to resist his sight in the mornings when the first rays of sunshine peeked through the window, directly at you on your side of the bed. He was astonished by you, by the effortless beauty of your creases and your ends, by your peaceful face during sleep, next to the warmth he brought to you.  

While his achy bones and silver hair reminded him that he was getting old, you still looked the same, as if time and pain never took their toll on you.

"You always do that," you murmured, your voice drained from sleep.

"Do what?" was his question, smiling widely.

"Staring," you blinked your eyes open, trying to wash your sleep away. "It's creepy."

"I love watching you sleep, so I can remember what you look like through the day."

You chuckled; the sound resonated in Joel's ears. It was a sound that made him feel everything had happened for a reason.

"Sorry if it creeps you out," Joel said, his smile softening. "I can't help it. You're beautiful when you are asleep and when you wake up."

You rolled your eyes playfully, reaching out to tousle his hair affectionately. "You're such a sap, Joel."

He laughed, leaning into your touch. "Maybe I am, yes, just for you."

Your smile dropped. “Don’t say that.”

Joel's expression softened, realizing he may have touched a sensitive nerve. He gently took your hand in his, his eyes searching yours with honesty in them.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you," he said softly. "But it's true. You've been my anchor through the storm, the light in the darkness. Without you, I don't know where I'd be."

A tiny smile graced your lips as you looked at him, studying his face, the creases on his forehead, and the silver hair growing. Time had hurt Joel, but it made him look beautiful to your eyes, and you felt a sadness within your body.

“What do you want to do today?” Joel asked, smiling at you.

You took a moment to compose yourself, letting Joel's words sink in before responding.

"I don't know," you replied, returning his smile. "Maybe we could take a walk around the town? It's been a while since we've explored together."

Joel nodded in agreement, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "That sounds like a great idea. It'll be nice to spend some time outside, away from these walls.”

Joel didn't like how people ignored you. His protective instincts kicked in as he noticed the way some people in the town seemed to ignore your presence. He tightened his grip on your hand in a gesture of support, if this hurt you. Even though he knew that you were the only one who could see him, he couldn't bear to see you being overlooked and dismissed by others.

“You seem mad,” you joked, nudging his neck with your nose as you walked.

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your attempt to lighten the mood, grateful for your ability to find humor even in the sadness that consumed him.

“Yeah, well, I hate how people look at me as if I were-" he replied, his voice tinged with warmth as he squeezed your hand gently.

“You know why,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment before turning his attention back to the path ahead. He didn't want to face it, not yet.

Just then, Tommy noticed Joel walking and approached him with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Hey, Brother, where are you off to?" Tommy called out, his voice breaking through the silent atmosphere in Joel’s little bubble.

Joel glanced at Tommy, offering a small smile in return. "Just taking a walk," he replied, gesturing the way.

Tommy's smile widened as he nodded, noticing Joel’s cheerful humor today, "Nice to see you out again.” He bowed his head for a moment. “Are you okay, right?”

Joel looked at Tommy for a moment, waiting for the words to come out of his lips: “Better than ever.”

Tommy nodded, though a hint of skepticism flickered in his eyes. "Good to hear, Joel. If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me."

With that, Tommy walked away, leaving Joel to grapple with the weight of his secret once more. As both of you resumed your walk, Joel couldn't shake the feeling of isolation that gnawed at him, knowing that no matter how much he longed for connection,.

“Don’t be mad. He’s just worried,” you said, picking up on Joel’s behavior.

Joel sighed softly, grateful for your understanding and support. He knew you were right; Tommy meant well, and his concern was genuine. Yet the weight of his secret still pressed heavily on Joel's shoulders, a constant reminder of the barrier that separated him from the rest of the world.

How hurt had made him grieve in a way he couldn't see.

"I know," Joel murmured, his voice tinged with sadness. "I just wish I could. I’m the big brother after all.”

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, offering a silent gesture of comfort. Joel found solace in your presence, in the way you understood him without needing words.

"I'm lucky to have you," Joel whispered, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

You smiled at him, not speaking more words, and you continued your walk together, hand in hand. 

Once you were outside the walls of Jackson, you led the way. As Joel noticed the surroundings, his apprehension grew with each step. Memories of that fateful day flooded his mind: the pain, the fear, the life leaving, and the aftermath.

"I don't like this place," he said, his voice tinged with apprehension as he halted abruptly in his tracks.

You turned to face him, noting the five-foot gap that separated you. "Please, Joel." You implored, your fingertips gently caressing his cheeks. His eyes closed, savoring the warmth of your fingertips on his skin, oblivious to the tears welling up.

"Baby," he murmured, his voice trailing off.

“Please, tell me you still have that sweet love inside you," you pleaded, still tracing delicate patterns on his face.

"You know I don’t have it," he finally answered, his voice breaking mid-sentence.

As the warmth of your touch withdrew, he opened his eyes, meeting yours with fear and longing. Tears shimmered in your eyes, and Joel felt his heart clench.

"It's been a year, Joel," you whispered, but he shook his head, unwilling to accept your words. "You need to let me go," you added, gently.

"I can't. I don't want to," he replied, his voice thick with pain pressing down on him.

Your heart ached as you listened to Joel's words, knowing the depth of his pain and longing. You wished you could ease his suffering; you wished you could erase the sorrow that weighed so heavily on his shoulders. But you also knew that holding on to the past would only prolong his agony.

"Joel," you said softly, reaching out to cup his face in your hands once more.

“I can’t,” he repeated. “This is the only way I can have you,” his tears falling down his cheeks. "I can't just let you go," Joel protested, his voice trembling, "I was so happy that you were mine.”

Your eyes softened with understanding, yet they were also filled with a profound sadness. "I know, Joel. But holding onto me like this is only hurting you more. You deserve to find peace."

Joel's gaze faltered, torn between the desire to cling to the memory of you and the need to find a way to heal. His heart ached with the unbearable emptiness that consumed him without you, a void that seemed impossible to fill.

"I don't know how to live without you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours, offering him a silent anchor amidst the storm of his emotions. "You don't have to do it alone, Joel. Let me be a part of your memories, but also let yourself live for the present."

Tears welled up in Joel's eyes, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of your words. Slowly, hesitantly, he nodded, a flicker of hope stirring within his heart.

“Close your eyes,” you told him, grabbing the same hand you had put on the wedding band the day you got married, when the world hadn’t ended and the story between you was just getting started.

As Joel closed his eyes, a sense of calm washed over him, knowing that whatever was to come, he was not alone. He felt the warmth of your touch and the gentle pressure of your hand in his, and he let himself be enveloped by the love and safety you brought.

With a trembling breath, you began to speak, your voice soft yet filled with an emotion you couldn't contain. "Joel," you whispered, your words carrying the weight of a lifetime of love and memories. "I want you to know how much you meant to me and how deeply I loved you."

Tears streamed down Joel's cheeks as he listened, hanging onto every word and every syllable that passed your lips. He felt his heart ache with bittersweet longing, the pain of losing you mingling with the warmth of your memories.

"You were my everything, Joel," you continued, your voice breaking with the intensity. "And even though I'm not physically with you anymore, I will always be a part of you, guiding you and watching over you."

Joel's grip tightened around your hand, his chest constricting with a mixture of grief and gratitude. "I love you," he whispered, his voice choked.

And then, as you finished speaking, Joel felt a shift in the air, a gentle breeze that seemed to carry your presence away. He opened his eyes, expecting to see you standing there before him, but to his dismay, you were gone.

"No," Joel whispered, his voice echoing through the empty space around him. "Don't leave me."

But there was no response, no comforting touch to reassure him. You were gone, leaving behind only the memories and an ache in Joel's heart that would never truly heal. And as he stood there, alone in the silence.

Ever since that tragic day, when you died while patrolling with Joel, he had been unable to escape the relentless grip of grief. It was a stupid accident, one he could have prevented if he had been faster, but he wasn't, and he was paying the price now.

Right now, every moment and every breath seem to echo with your absence. He had held himself to the memories of your laughter, your touch, and your presence by his side. Everywhere he turned, he saw traces of you. You were there, and he could touch you, but now your presence faded away with the air. He longed for the comfort of your embrace, the warmth of your smile, and the sound of your voice calling out his name.

But there was only silence. He turned around, and with the heaviness in his heart and tears spilling down his cheeks, he walked back alone to Jackson. This time, there was no reminder of you by his side. Tears blurred Joel's vision as he trudged along the familiar path, the memories of that day replaying in his mind like a relentless nightmare.

But no amount of regret or self-blame could bring you back, and Joel knew that he would have to find a way to carry on without you by his side.

And so, with a heavy heart and tears still streaming down his cheeks, Joel promised himself to carry on, to face each day with courage and determination, knowing that even though you were gone, your love would always be with him, that he was the man he was because of you.

You were always going to be on his mind.

[revelboo]

It Had to Be You Pt 2

Megatron x Reader-spark

• Awareness washes through Megatron as his servos wrap around the tiny organic. Everywhere bare skin touches his metal flesh, its biofield soaks into him. Startling and strangely, soothing that ache he’s done his best to ignore for so long. Denta gritting, he wants to crush you in his hand, squeeze until he can’t feel this eerie sense of connection and aching familiarity anymore. Because whatever this is? It’s a threat.

• And it chains him even as he rages against it. Because this creature won’t, can’t, die by his hand. However he much he hates this newfound need, he can’t let it go now. Expression darkening, his face lifts to the fight raging on. Snarling under his breath, he tucks the alien inside his chassis, protoarmor crawling at the feel of something inside him as it just keeps making that awful, screeching. He’ll break it of that noise, but first- the Autobots.

• You’re trapped, the dark space you’re wedged in forcing you into an awkward hunch, unable to stand up straight or sit. It’s a coffin, your brain whispers as you pound your fists against the warm metal in a panic to get free. You feel like you can’t breathe and when the monster who imprisoned you begins to move, you’re battered against the walls of your prison. That building panic seizes you by the throat, vision flaring white then black as your head bangs off a wall.

• Beaten again by a Prime. Fury is a living thing inside him, as he grits his denta. How many times now? No matter how much he pushes himself, he can’t overcome the Matrix of Leadership and the unfair advantage it bestows on the Prime. The other name is just there in the back of his processor, but he won’t speak it, much less think it. That mech is long gone, twisted into a tool for the aristocracy. A Prime.

• Inside his chassis, the alien is silent, its cries having quieted during the battle. Still alive, though. He can sense its weak field washing into him in little, reassuring waves. That vague sense of peace that comes with the contact only makes him angrier. Maybe he’ll let Shockwave take it apart to figure out what this is. Some sort of defense mechanism?

• He doesn’t remove it until he’s safely ensconced in his own quarters, his army off tending to their wounds. It’s unresisting as he lifts it free, hanging limp from his servos and sluggishly leaking something red from a cut above its eye. Moving to put it down, he finds himself strangely reluctant to do so. It’s must be something it’s doing to him. Weakening him somehow as it snares him with this strange need to not break this contact.

• Sitting heavily on his berth, he uses the tip of a servo to nudge a limp arm. He’s seen organics before, fragile little things that never survive being caught in their war. There’s a vague guilt there, but it’s old and kept chained away in a dark part of his processor with all other weakness, with that other name that had belonged to a brother. The leftover vestiges of a miner named D-16. Megatron has no need for them. Carefully tipping its head to the side, he soaks in that odd, peaceful sense of rightness that touching the creature brings. Despite how soft and weak it is, it’s curiously shaped like a Cybertronian. Bipedal, two arms, and two legs.

• And even though he realizes it’s dangerous, he can’t set the alien aside. Can’t relinquish that strange need pulsing in his spark that insists this fragile thing is his. That this contact is right, even as it’s very wrong.

Previous Next

I just want to write silly transformers nonsense, but my beta reader had to remind me that I do owe updates on two manuscripts- this story line is her fault. Trying to change gears between what I normally write and my for fun stuff didn’t go very well, but hey, I kept it SFW. I’m counting it as a win.

[bones4thecats]

What If Their S/O Died During Ragnarok?

Characters: Thor, Odin, Loki, and Heimdall Inspired By: My wish to write angst A/N: I have nothing to say so read the angst. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Death, fighting, details in death, murder, and just pure angst no fluff. ⚠️

Disclaimer: F! Reader in Odin's part because of Thor being his son

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╚═════ Thor ═════════════════════════════════╝

🌩️ Thor always adored your strength. You weren't as strong as him but you were quite a threat when you needed to be, so when you were called for Ragnarok, he wasn't surprised

🌩️ You stood before the human named Julius Caesar, and if you were being honest, his cunning nature was starting to annoy you even before your fight began, but now that you were far more advanced into it, it was beginning to make your anger come out

"I'm gonna tear your arms off your body and use them to beat you senseless!" You screamed, raising your weapons to strike him down.

"Bring it!" He yelled back.

🌩️ As you swung downwards, the male disappeared, making your eyes widen and you feel a pain hitting your midsection. Staring downwards, a large gladius blade poking through your body

🌩️ The sound of everyone gasping made Thor look up from his hammer in the private room. His eyes locked with the screen and his grip tightened around the handle, launching up from his seat, he began to practically run outside to the ring

🌩️ Thor ran as fast as he could go up the stairs, his sudden stop between you and the former Roman dictator causing a mass amount of sand to fall upon him. He looked back at you and saw how you fell to the ground

"Y/N..."

"I love you, Thor... after death does us part..."

🌩️ Your body began to shatter as your husband kept his grip on your body, trembling as you died. You, the love of his life, died in his arms

🌩️ He turned around as your green-shattered body began to float away, he then dug his fingers into his weapon, it almost shattering the object he held onto. Thor then looked back at the human, rage in his eyes as he let out a deep warning as thunder wrapped around them all

"You'll pay for this, human."

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╚═════ Odin ═════════════════════════════════╝

🪶 Vlad the Impaler, former Voivode of Wallachia, well-known blood-thirsty monster, and current-opponent against the co-leader of the Norse Pantheon, Goddess of the Afterlife, Y/N stood before one another, weapons drawn as Heimdall yelled for the round to start

🪶 Thor watched as his mother walked to the human, shook his hand, and readied to fight. Normally he would be just as calm as his father, but after the loss of Poseidon in the third round, it was worrying that they could possibly lose another God, specifically his own mother

🪶 Odin, his father and your husband, just sat there with a blank face as saw how your weapons clashed, leaving sparks behind as you danced around him

🪶 During your time ruling over those who have passed on in Valhalla, Hel, Fólkvangr, and Landscape, you would be able to move around their wispy-like forms with ease, as if you were a dancer. And while it was beautiful in those times, right now it was helping you survive

🪶 Odin's eyes narrowed as Vlad lifted his kilij and sent it smashing down onto your own spear, successfully smashing it in half while you flew back and sent attack after attack at the human who tried killing you multiple times

🪶 It only lasted 20 minutes when you knocked Vlad the Impaler down, causing him to cough up blood and see his blade get smashed underneath your foot. While he did have a Völundr, it was of no use, your skill in battle rose far above his own

🪶 Holding your blade to his throat as he pressed against the wall, he took the final attempt at hitting you by throwing his blade at you, though you dodged and allowed it to fly past you. You scoffed and chuckled at the action of the human

"How amusing, even after so long of trying to stay alive you still don't understand that I cannot and will not allow myself to be taken down by a man with longer hair than my nutcase-nephew. Now, accept your fate. Any final words for your fellow parasites?"

"Yes... I made sure I got my final head."

"What?"

"Y/N, look out!"

🪶 In the matter of a second, time stopped. A large mount of black hair launched in the air with shock while the rest of the beings all froze in fear. It was the leader of the Norse Pantheon, it was Odin who had gone blind in rage so quickly

🪶 Jumping down from his seat, Huginn and Muninn swarmed around your body, now holding a blade within the head and squawked in agony. Loki and Thor stood in complete shock as Odin held his hand up and sent a blast at the human male, killing him slowly and painfully while he picked up your body without any emotion and carried you away

🪶 All Gods watched silently as the humans just looked down or stayed with their eyes glued on the events. The Gods felt ashamed at the loss, yes. But seeing such a kind and loving part of their society fall in such a hurtful manner broke some hearts while Humanity just shook their heads with either shame or pity for the Norse Family

🪶 When Odin fought soon, everyone knew that he wasn't going to go down easy... not after this...

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╚═════ Loki ═════════════════════════════════╝

🐍 Loki and you have been amused watching the humans and Gods fight. At first, the fights went by smoothly, the loss of Lü Bu and Adam not fazing either of you, but as the humans began to rise in power, resulting in the loses of Heracles, Poseidon, and Hades, your nerves slightly grew when your name was called

🐍 Walking around the ring amusing yourself was easy, but standing in front of those they called 'History's Greatest Military Mind', did bring your ego down slightly, much to his surprise

🐍 As you clashed in the arena, your husband of many years, Loki, floated around and laughed at the futile attempts against you. It was pointless, with your mindset and similar, to his, abilities, you were practically invincible

🐍 Loki smirked as you fought, ignoring the calls of his Uncle Odin's birds. And while they were annoying, if he had to endure them to see his lovely spouse win, then so be it

🐍 His face only began to darken the Alexander began to advance with his Valkyrie-bond. Now his attacks were starting to land more often, and that was not good at all

🐍 You were a Deity who has fought in many wars, you knew how opponent's thought, but every time you knew what he was going to do, he'd switch it up on the spot. Now you understood his nickname to the fullest

🐍 Loki's eyes narrowed in worry as you lunged forward to stab him in the head, only for him to dodge, go behind you, wrap his legs around your neck, pin you to the ground, and speak his final words to you

"You were an amazing opponent, Deity of Order. And I wish you no pain."

"Why you-"

🐍 Dead silence.

🐍 With one blow, you had died. A stab wound to your heart, causing your once glowing, glimmering eyes to drown in a pool of darkness. Loki watched as your arms slumped down and as Humanity cheered for their heroine

🐍 But what he didn't know is that the Trickster God from the Norse Pantheon was standing right behind him, ready to make him feel the same pain he made his lover feel a couple seconds ago

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╚═════ Heimdall ══════════════════════════════╝

📯 He has seen all either fall or stand in this tournament, but there was one that he did not wish to witness end with a Gods' non-victory, and that is Round 5 of Ragnarok, Hannibal Barca vs Norse-Deity of the Sound, Y/N

📯 You two have been together since the very beginning, growing from friends to full-on romance in just a matter of a couple thousand years, which is fast for any average Deity-relationship, which normally appears after around four-times that!

📯 He watched you two look at one another blankly, but he knew how you thought. You were coming up with every angle you could hit this guy and he could go down like a fly, and he hoped those plans worked

📯 Heimdall blew into his horn and the match began, the sound of metal clashing and grunts being all he could hear whilst everyone else conversed and made their own sounds in reaction to everything

📯 You could hear everything better than anyone, and using your daggers, you tossed them in the air before they came flying down, making the loudest screeching anyone could ever hear. After doing this many times and having Hannibal come back with his own attacks unique to himself, which made you smirk and laugh

"If you believe such minor attacks with a Valkyrie could kill me, you're wrong human."

📯 Hannibal smirked and raised his weapon once again for an attack set like a joust. You just scoffed and aimed your sword for his heart, but before you could hit him, a pain was felt the back of your head... a shield had come flying down and smashed your head down

📯 You fell to the ground in pain as he grabbed the shield and hit you once again in your head, making you wail in agony from the pain. Like mentioned earlier, your hearing was exquisite, so having this crashing your head while he hit it with his sword wasn't very nice

📯 He then pierced your head with his sword, causing everyone to freeze slightly. Humanity then broke out into a cheer of celebration while the Gods stood in shock... how did he bring you down in a matter of 32 minutes?! What had he done?!

📯 Nobody was more shocked than Heimdall. He had just witnessed his spouse of over four-thousand years die before him. Everyone knew he wasn't going to speak, so, in an effort to help the man, Zeus came down and yelled out the rounds' results

📯 While Humanity celebrated and the Gods just stayed silent with either rage or pain for you, Zeus looked back at the Norse God and spoke gently as to usher him into a room to relax

"Heimdall, wait for me in the room with a soundwave on it. I'll be there in a little bit and we can speak of this."

📯 Heimdall nodded as he rushed away, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he ran. Why did you have to die... why did Zeus have to choose you... why was life such a pain...

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

Narissa Andersen

A/N: This is a pretty detailed backstory of my thunderbolts* oc, Narissa "Nessa" Andersen. If this piques your interest and if you'd like me to write the fic then do let me know in the comments because oc x character fics generally don't get many reads.

Also, this was written before any of the characters were names so there's really not a single mention of Nessa's name.

Read the whole thing below

TW: Mentions of blood and self harm (I deeply apologise for not adding a trigger warning sooner)

She picked up the pen with a sigh and reached out for the notebook she poured out her soul in. The notebook had patience, willingness to listen, the notebook cared.

It wasn't something she'd ever attained from a person.

She had realized it at a young age. Realized that no one would ever listen to her, no one would ever truly care how she felt

And once she'd realized that, she had stopped screaming it from the top of her lungs, she had stopped waiting and wanting to be heard, to be seen.

Her mother cared more about her next high than she did about anything her daughter had interest in

She kept her alive, gave her all the things she needed to remain that way. What more could she possibly wish for?

On the days it got bad, she learned to pick up the pieces her mother would leave behind. She started walking home from school at age seven because her mother would be passed out on the couch and had no track of time, or would be at a whole different corner of the city working odd jobs.

At age eleven, she started doing all the things her mother was supposed to. She cooked and cleaned and made the dump of their apartment a place where she could survive.

And eventually, she started to pick up after her mother's mess.

She would put a blanket over her on days when she couldn't get up from the couch, held her hair back as she threw up her entire meal, brushed her hair and cleaned her up when she couldn't do it herself.

She didn't do all of it because she was ever told do, she just felt the obligation to do it.

Her mother would have her good days too, days when she'd actually spark hope in her daughter's heart, hope that she was actually getting better.

She would clean the house, make her daughter's favorite dinner, picked her up from school. She even made terrible jokes to make her daughter laugh.

But whenever the struggles of living would become too much for her, she'd pick up the bottle again.

And the cycle would repeat.

Her daughter didn't quite understand it, the meaning of her life.

Whenever she would see kids her age go out on trips, whenever she would hear them talk about the future, she couldn't help but wonder how they all knew so well what they wanted.

And why she didn't knew it at all, what it was the she wanted

She hadn't ever been allowed to want anything.

Everyday was pretty much the same, the same routine, same thoughts.

She couldn't even imagine a life out of that cycle.

"You just need to find your purpose" her guidance counselor had told her at age fifteen.

So she had.

Well it wasn't exactly a purpose, just something to look forward to.

She started shifting her focus towards studying because in studying, there was always something new to learn, something to look forward to.

There was always a quiz to study for, an exam to give, so she did.

Eventually she took to playing piano when she'd found an abandoned one at school that no one had ever bothered to give a chance.

A dusty, crooked old thing.

And when the chance to break out of the cycle had come, she had taken it.

She'd been accepted to a university at New York.

And for the first time in her life, she could see the way forward, see the future she wanted to have.

For the first time, she had wanted something.

When she'd told her mother, she'd only lifted a shoulder, had looked up at her with her tired eyes and said "It was only a matter of time".

When she'd stepped out in the world, the big city, her whole perspective had shifted.

For the first time in her life, she had experienced thrill, excitement and for the first time, she was eagerly awaiting something.

And just like every other thing in her life, she'd given college her all. Got the best grades she could, passed each test, every exam.

She'd eventually made a friend too.

She wasn't antisocial really, she spoke to her classmates, kids passing by her in the corridors, had conversations with her roommate.

But the girl she truly cared for, the one that truly mattered to her, was much different.

The girl had made her feel like she mattered, the girl had cared for her, had liked her for who she truly was, and not the fake stories about her high school life that she would tell everyone.

The girl had made her feel wanted.

So she'd confided in her, spilled out her soul to her, drop by drop.

At age nineteen, she'd gotten the call from the local hospital, telling her they'd found her mother in her apartment, passed out on her couch just like all the other times. Except this time she wasn't coming back 

Her mother had od'd. 

Which was ironic because she'd actually called her two days back, had told her about the new job she'd gotten at a waitress, had even made friends with her colleagues.

And surprisingly enough, that was the longest conversation she'd ever had with her mother.

She didn't cry at the funeral, she didn't cry until she went back to the apartment to pack her whole childhood in a box and had no idea what to do with it. 

 There was a weight that had settled in her chest, one that was never going to leave her.

Her best friend had offered to accompany her but she'd simply refused.

It was her own burden to bear.

At age nineteen, she had actually started to love college. She would go out with her best friend on the weekends or sometimes just stay in, watching old romcoms together.

For the first time, her life has started making sense.

She had found her purpose.

But then it happened.

Her best friend was gone, her screams ricocheted through the walls as they had pulled her back, away from her body that was merely a hollowed out carcass now.

She went to class, ate the same cold meals because she had no willingness to heat them up, slept the whole weekend, and did the same every week.

The cycle had found it's way back to her.

Her scholarship was nearly over.

"Do you have no other assets to rely on?" The dean had asked her., to which she'd only shook her head in response.

She hand nothing, no one to rely on, not anymore.

She didn't feel anything anymore, her senses had gone numb as one felt after accidentally sitting on their hand for too long.

She hadn't fallen into the habit willingly, it had happened first when she'd accidentally cut her hand during dinner.

It was then she'd realized that she finally felt something, realized that she liked the pain, the sight of the blood pouring out like a slow stream.

She'd tried many different ways, keeping her hand on a burning pot for too long, "accidentally" dropping things on her feet, but nothing quite made her feel like the way that sharp little thing did.

She could feel again, even if it was just pain.

The pattern went on, getting better some days, when she would be able to stay clean for days, weeks even. But then again on a quiet evening, the blade would find it's way back into her palm again.

At age twenty, her life had turned upside down again

She heard of some experiment, some organization that would run tests on you for research and would pay her for it.

She was desperate, she needed the money.

But even more than that, she needed the pain.

The whole endeavor had left her with abilities she didn't quite understand, and soon enough, she was made to do jobs she didn't quite understand.

But she did it anyway, because nothing really mattered anymore.

Her purpose was gone.

But then the offer by shield came and without thinking much, she took it.

She started spending time with Natasha Romanoff whose company was something she'd grown to be found of. 

Natasha saw as the sister she had lost, and she began seeing her as the one she never had.

So when Natasha had asked for her help take to down hydra and stop the winter soldier, she'd agreed.

And she hadn't looked back ever since.

But everything has changed now. 

Too much has happened ever since, Ultron, the sokovian accords, Thanos, the blip, the five years, Natasha's death.

After it all, she no longer believes her life can do anything surprising to her anymore,

Until she enters that vault in the middle of nowhere, not knowing that her life won't ever be the same again.

[beevean]

🌻~

I don't remember if I talked about this, but!

Unpopular opinion, perhaps: were I to write Sypha, I would write to be a bit of an ice queen.

(... this was before realizing that Sypha is heavily associated with ice in SoTN and Vampire Survivors lmaooooo)

My logic is. How would you grow up to be, if as a child you were told to hide your very identity to stay alive? Sypha was persecuted for being a witch, kept hidden in the Church, the very same Church whose beliefs were used as a spark to execute people like her. She learned to masquerade as a man to survive.

Someone like this, I think, would not want people to approach her. She wouldn't trust easily. She wouldn't want people to even take a good look at her (hence the hood).

... but naturally, not even she would resist the charm of a certain Belmont, who proves himself to not judge people superficially, but by their inner character :P and if he can be besties with a thief and Dracula's own son, surely he wouldn't reject a witch, right? Surely he'd like her even after dropping the façade, right...?

So, yeah. Were I to write Sypha, I'd write her to be very blunt and earnest. Not afraid to call someone an idiot if absolutely necessary, and being generally introverted. But not a bad person, not one who constantly insults her Belmont :P one who wants to do good, and can grow to see the best in people esp with Trevor's help. Just keeping to herself, not talking much - someone whose smile feels earned. It probably makes more sense in my head, because I'm aware that this concept can be executed very poorly, but yeah. I'd like her to stand out from the mold of "kind caretaker", and I think that making her colder due to her tragic past makes more sense.

(also, I kinda like the idea of a "white" witch like her being more reticent to deal with people, and a "dark" witch like Julia being gentler and happier to help, although with her own trust issues)

[kirisjournal]

kiri's enchanted prompt book !

welcome to a treasure trove of prompts— feel free to wander through and find one that sparks your heart. when you find a prompt you love, simply whisper its category and number or quote in your request. i’ll be adding more little gems here whenever the stars align and time allows. ˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

who i write for ♡ i write for the worlds that linger—where heartbreak hums beneath moonlight, found families grow in the quiet, and chaos is always a little bit soft. these are the stories and characters i can’t help but return to.

✧ secrets that don’t stay buried — pretty little liars ✧ shadows & spinjitzu — ninjago ✧ masked mayhem & final girls — scream ✧ twisted games and quiet rebellion — squid game ✧ treasure maps & broken hearts — outer banks ✧ sirens, second chances & L.A. nights — the rookie ✧ forest fire secrets & haunted friendships — yellowjackets ✧ upside down dreams & bike rides at dusk — stranger things ✧ survival, sorrow, and soft-spoken strength — the walking dead ✧ classified truths & reluctant heroes — jack ryan ✧ brotherhood in the bleakest dawn — band of brothers ✧ torn hands & unshakable faith — hacksaw ridge ✧ confessions, guilt, and those who sin — sinners ✧ summer lies, saltwater grief — we were liars ✧ gods among grief — marvel / mcu ✧ survival stitched in saltwater — the wilds ✧ love in apocalyptic hush — the last of us ✧ ghosts, gunfire & a heartbeat that won't quit — call of duty ✧ horses, heartbreak & the dust of old regrets — red dead redemption ✧ locked doors, loaded guns & the end of the world — resident evil ✧ card tricks, countdowns & blood-slicked mercy — alice in borderland ✧ bruised knuckles, buried debts & brotherhood in the dark — bloodhounds ✧ sirens, standoffs & hearts hidden under kevlar — s.w.a.t. ✧ secrets in taillights & guilt that won’t drown — i know what you did last summer

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

🌙 angst prompts

“don’t pretend you did this for me.” — character A discovers that character B made a devastating sacrifice... but not for the reasons they claimed.

character A forgets something important to character B. it’s not the first time. this time, B doesn’t say anything—they just smile like it didn’t hurt.

“i waited for you.” — character B comes back, months or years too late. character A has already learned how to live without them—but not how to stop loving them.

the love confession comes at the worst possible moment. — during an argument. or while one of them is bleeding. or when they both know it’s already too late.

one character has to pretend not to care. for safety. for someone else’s sake. for their own survival. but it’s eating them alive.

“say it. just say you don’t love me anymore.” — and character B almost says it. but the silence speaks louder.

one of them deletes unsent messages every night. — they've written everything they want to say. but they never hit "send."

character A is in danger, and character B can hear it over the comms—but can’t reach them. — all they can do is listen... and beg them to hold on.

“i saw you. with them.” — jealousy would be easier. but it’s not about being replaced—it’s about being forgotten.

a shared moment—ruined by a lie. — one of them says something sweet. the other says, “don’t.” because they know the truth doesn’t match the words.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

🌷 fluff prompts

“you talk in your sleep.” — character B stays up, listening to character A murmur their name in the dark.

found-family sleepover — one couch, way too many pillows, and someone wakes up with their head on someone else's chest. cue heartbeats and quiet panic.

“i kept this.” — a silly trinket, a torn note, an old photograph. character B didn’t think it mattered. character A had been carrying it for years.

the “fake dating” goes too well. they’re laughing in public, arms wrapped around each other... until someone says, “you guys are so in love.” And no one corrects them.

“you’re blushing.” “so are you.” — it’s just hand-holding. just a smile. just... everything.

they fall asleep on a call. — one of them wakes up hours later to a soft, steady breathing on the other end—and doesn’t hang up.

“you remembered.” — a favorite snack, a special day, a song lyric. it’s small—but character B didn’t think character A cared that much.

they dance in the kitchen—quiet, barefoot, half-laughing. — it’s 3AM. there’s no music (or maybe there is) . but something about it feels like home.

“i think your laugh might be my favorite sound.” — it slips out. neither of them knows what to do with it—except smile like idiots.

rain-soaked clothes and shared warmth. — character A offers their jacket. character B doesn’t return it.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

🕯️ hurt/comfort prompts

“hey, hey—breathe with me, okay?” — character A finds character B mid-panic attack. it’s raw, but quiet. gentle. real.

a long-overdue breakdown. — character A has been holding it together for too long. character B just listens, offering a soft “you don’t have to be okay right now.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” — a secret pain or injury. character B finds out, furious not at the truth—but that character A suffered alone.

a night spent keeping each other warm. — cold, hurt, exhausted—someone’s trembling, and the other wraps their arms around them like they mean it. maybe they do.

they fall asleep at the hospital. — one sits beside the bed, holding a hand like it’s a lifeline. the other wakes up to find them still there.

a nightmare brings one of them to the other’s room. — they don’t explain. they just sit beside the bed. the other wordlessly pulls back the blanket.

“you don’t have to be strong right now.” — character B always acts like they can handle it. tonight, they can’t. character A stays anyway.

a flashback they can’t shake. — character A zones out mid-conversation. character B realizes it wasn’t zoning out—it was dissociating.

one of them is sick or injured—and insists they’re fine. — character B loses it: “you’re not invincible. let me help you.”

a quiet apology whispered into someone’s shoulder. — not dramatic. not loud. just... “i’m sorry i wasn’t there.” and “you are now.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

🧸 silly prompts

“you stole my last slice of pizza? i will never forgive you.” — a dramatic showdown erupts over food that probably wasn’t even good.

character A insists character B is a villain. — because they keep stealing the blankets... every single night.

they argue for hours about who really forgot to feed the goldfish. — the goldfish is fine, but their friendship teeters on the edge.

character A bakes cookies to impress but somehow burns everything. — even the smoke alarm joins in the party with its own singing.

character B pretends to fall asleep mid-conversation. — just to get extra cuddles from character A.

character A accidentally sends a love poem to the entire group chat. — cue relentless teasing and a red-faced apology tour.

character A trips spectacularly, and character B can’t stop laughing. — then immediately helps them up with a sheepish smile.

one of them has a ridiculous allergic reaction to chocolate. — the other makes an emergency care kit out of whatever’s nearby.

character B has a minor panic over a spider. — and character A’s “brave” rescue attempt is more comedic than comforting.

a clumsy injury leads to a pile of awkward, soft moments. — with ice packs, goofy bandages, and whispered apologies.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

and that’s all—for now ♡ this little garden of prompts may grow with time, whenever inspiration drifts in on a quiet breeze. if something here made your heart skip, tuck it into a request and let it bloom.

stories often start with a whisper—so choose the one that lingers. i’ll be here, pen in hand, ready to turn your daydreams into words. thank you for reading, wandering, and wishing with me. ♡

[chronicallyunhingedpodcast]

Reclaiming My Sparkle: Breaking Free from Obsession and Finding Myself Again 📝✨

It’s strange how you can lose yourself in someone else—how obsession and fixation creep in so quietly you barely notice until it’s too late.

I’ve been in that place.

I lived in that place.

And I’m finally clawing my way out.

⸻

The Illusion of “Us”

We thought we were in love—two people thrown together by chaos, childhood wounds, and trauma that mirrored each other. But in hindsight, I see it now: it wasn’t love. It was a hypersexualized fantasy, a trauma bond, a reflection of pain disguised as passion. We weren’t actually into each other—we were into the idea of each other. The fantasy we built in our heads because we were both so broken and desperate for connection, for a home, for safety.

I hate that I let myself get caught up in it. I hate that he became infatuated with my sparkle—the light I’ve worked so hard to protect. He told me once he was jealous I could articulate my thoughts so easily, that I was a great writer. It was as if he wanted to absorb my energy, my creativity, because he couldn’t find his own words. But that’s not my job. That’s not love. That’s codependency.

100 Things I Like & Dislike

One of the first steps I took in finding myself again was writing a list of 100 things I like and dislike. It was harder than I thought it would be. I realized how much of my life had been about us—or rather, about him. I’d lost touch with what I liked, what made me happy, what felt good to me.

That list became my blueprint for healing. It showed me what I’d been missing all along—myself.

Honesty and Boundaries

For so long, I was afraid to be honest. I didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to rock the boat, didn’t want to admit that I was suffocating under the weight of expectations, trauma, and guilt. But honesty is freedom. And the truth is, I’m learning that I was never meant to be his savior, his muse, his everything.

I used to be hyper-independent—the girl who did her own thing, who wasn’t glued to her phone, who crafted, wrote, podcasted, and created on her own terms. Somewhere along the line, I lost that version of myself. But I’m finding her again.

Boundaries aren’t selfish—they’re survival. They’re how I keep my sparkle safe.

Breaking the Cycle

This isn’t about blame or shaming anyone. It’s about breaking the cycle. It’s about acknowledging the patterns that kept me trapped:

• The obsession

• The fixation

• The fantasy

• The codependency

It’s about naming the feelings, even when they’re messy. It’s about being honest: I wasn’t in love with him. I was in love with the idea of what we could be, the peer pressures, the sneaking around, but never were. And that’s okay. It’s okay to let go of the fantasy and step into the reality, even when it’s painful.

⸻

Reclaiming My Life

I’m writing again. Soon, i will be creating again. I’m slowly rebuilding the habits that make me feel alive—podcasting, writing, creating, spending time with myself. I’m re-learning my likes, dislikes, my quirks, and my dreams.

I’m not fully healed yet, but I’m healing. I’m not fully whole yet, but I’m getting there.

And most importantly, I’m reclaiming my sparkle—one boundary, one honest moment, one creative spark at a time.

[fayedartmouth]

can we please get a fix it snippet?

Sure! I am 1. going to start forgetting what I've posted 2. would love any suggestions for types of snippets people want. Like, S4 bits? The part where it goes AU? The aftermath with JJ's recovery and the Pogues in Lisbon? Characters you'd like to see bits about?

Otherwise I just feel so random picking things outs.

This is a scene from the extended boat ride sequence. I've made it clear I think the boat ride in cannon is one of the worst things the writers did. My version is much longer and gives the Pogues a lot more depth and humanity. So an example is below.

(I don't think I've shared this one, I hope!)

(I know, I know, I need to write faster. This fic needs to be shorter, but the narrative is doing what it wants, and I'm scrambling to keep up.)

When she made the choice to date JJ, Kiara hadn’t really thought it through.  Falling in love with him, after all, had been easy.  He’d fallen off the Coastal Venture, and she’d jumped in after them.  She could still remember how that felt, the fear in her chest as she pulled him back up over the water, pulling him close to her.  He’d been lifeless, bleeding and pale, and she’d thought for a second that she’d lost him.

It had been the worst moment of her life.

The impossibility of it.

The <i>grief</i>.

It had almost overwhelmed her.

It didn’t seem possible.  The Pogues without JJ.  The universe without JJ.

Her <i>life</i> without JJ.

He was a necessary piece of the puzzle.  He was the complement to her soul.  She needed him; she loved him.

That love had blossomed on the island, when she saw him be free for the first time.  It had been a struggle, sure, but JJ had never missed a beat.  Even with a bad concussion, he’d loved it, every second of it.  And his energy had kept them all going.

That spark in his eyes.

That electricity in his touch.

It had kept <i>her</i> alive.

Coming back to the real world had put it in perspective, maybe.  Now that they were playing by the rules again, now that they were back to normal conventions.  They had to define it.  They had to put it into boundaries.

Kiara had been open to that.

JJ had struggled with it.

She’d been so focused on getting him to say <i>yes</i>, that that logistics just hadn’t mattered.

And truthfully, after El Dorado, it had been easy.  They had had money.  They’d had a home and a job.  She didn’t need JJ to take her on dates or say <i>I love you</i>.  It didn’t matter if he felt uncomfortable holding hands or if he struggled to trust her when she said she wanted him.  Being patient was easy when all they had was time and money and resources.

She hadn’t thought about when things got hard.  She hadn’t thought about when he ran out of coping skills.  She hadn’t thought about when conventions crashed down on them, whether they  liked it or not.  Kiara had thought it through, why wedding vows said in good times and in bad.

Because bad times.

<i>Were bad</i>.

This, Kiara knew, was a bad time.

She suspected it might be the worst time.

At the very least, she couldn’t imagine worse.

Because here she was, crossing the Atlantic in a shitty little boat, chasing a murderer for a magic crown that might save them from economic ruin and jail time.  With a pregnant best friend, their worst enemy tied up in the bathroom, and her boyfriend drinking himself into oblivion.  If Groff didn’t kill JJ, he’d do it himself with the booze.

And it was her turn to watch him.

Yeah, that was how bad things were. They had a schedule to babysit her boyfriend.

Even if she had thought it through, she probably wouldn’t have envisioned <i>this</i>.

But JJ needed her.  JJ needed all of them.  If she wanted her boyfriend back, she had to make sure he survived <i>whatever</i> this was.  A crash out.  An identity crisis.  An absolute implosion.

She didn’t blame him.  It was a lot; with JJ it had always been a lot.  But with his mother and Groff – and the corpse and the attempted murder–

Well, yeah, she was all for the all-hands-on-deck approach.

If she could just find him.

She poked through the deck, finding John B and Sarah in the control room.  Below deck, Cleo and Pope were tucked into their cabin.  Rafe was still secure and mostly safe in his makeshift prison.  JJ wasn’t in the bedroom; he wasn’t in the engine room or the supply closet or–

She heard it, then.  The crash in the kitchen.

Her stomach dropped a little, and she picked up her pace.  She heard another crash, and a curse, and she broke into a job, navigating the narrow corridors until she came into the galley.

He was there, at least.  At the kitchen counter.

Holding a knife.

And bleeding.

“What the hell?” she said, heart pounding as she crossed to him.

He looked at her, eyes wide and hand covered in blood.  He blinked, and then staggered.  “Kie?” he slurred.

He was drunk, then.

Of course he was drunk.

When hadn’t he been drunk since they hit international waters?

“Damn it, JJ,” she said, snatching the knife from him easily.  She put it down on the counter hard.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“The vegetables,” he said, and he turned his head slowly back to the counter.  There were, indeed, vegetables on there.  Flecked with blood – carrots and broccoli.  “I was going to – going to – make dinner.”

Her breath caught, almost at a loss.  “It’s 3 PM,” she said shortly.  “And you’re too drunk to cook.”

“I have to do something,” he said, gesturing now, as if oblivious to the fact that he was bleeding.

“Yeah, well, not this,” she said tersely, and she reached for his hand.  Taking it, she tried to get a better look.  “How bad is it?”

He looked down, brow deeply furrowed as if he was noticing for the first time that he’d cut himself.  She found the slice – on his index finger – and pressed on it to gauge its depth.  He yelped, flailing a little, and she glared at him.

“You didn’t even notice it a second ago,” she reminded him.

His blue eyes were baleful.  She almost felt sorry for him.

Except for the fact that his drunk ass did this to himself.  “It’s not bad,” she said, assessing it and reaching for a cloth.  “Some pressure and I think it’ll stop.”

She held it tight, feeling the way his pulse throbbed against her touch.  He stood there, still in her grip, and she could feel his eyes on him.  “I just wanted to help,” he said.

She let herself look at him, and it was almost too much.  It was easier to be mad at him, honestly.  It was easier to just get pissed at him.

Than to see him like this.

To see how hurt he was.

Groff had come into his life and taken everything.  Luke had already left JJ with so little, and Groff came in and with one fell swoop took the rest of it.  JJ’s self confidence was in tatters.  His sense of self was nonexistent.  He didn’t even know what self worth was.

All he had was his utility.

What he could do for them.

And the blind need to numb the pain.

“JJ,” she said, her anger diffusing just that fast.  Her shoulders fell.  “You can’t help like this.”

Drunk as he was, his inhibitions were low.  He couldn’t hide his vulnerability anymore, and he looked like he was 12 years old.

Drunk and bleeding and <i>too young</i>.

“But I have to,” he said.  “I can’t be dead weight.  Not unless you cut me loose–”

Her gut constricted, and she felt the hairs on her neck rise.  “JJ, shut up.”

“I wouldn’t blame you–”

“JJ,” she said, letting her voice rise.  “Shut.  Up.”

The sheer force of her voice was enough to still him.  He pulled into himself, making himself look small as he looked down at his hand.  Kiara checked it, pleased that the bleeding was already slowing.

“Okay,” she said, easing the pressure.  “If we find the first aid kit.”

She let him go, and it was a mistake.  He pulled back, too drunk to keep coordinated.  And he crashed into the hanging pots and pans behind him, making a horrific clatter.  

“JJ–” she started, but he flailed again, nearly falling over this time as she rushed to catch him.  “JJ, stop–”

His lack of coordination meant it was all flying limbs, and it was all Kiara could do to thrust him into one of the chairs in the galley, panting breathlessly down at him from the struggle.  JJ thrashed another moment, even as she held him in place, a pathetic whine escaping him as she held him fast.  

“JJ, what the hell?” she asked, her anger spiking again as her anxiety picked up.  She had known him to be mean when he was drunk.  He could be belligerent.  He was prone to picking fights – but not with her. 

Never with her.

Whatever was happening now, this was new territory.  This was JJ at rock bottom.

She <i>hoped</i>.

“I just want to help,” he whined, head flopping back as his eyelids fluttered.

She drew back a little, her heart still pounding.  She was sweating.

Shit, she was exhausted.  JJ was wearing her out, plain and simple.

Whether it was his fault or not – it didn’t matter.  This wasn’t the blame game.

Except, it kind was.

For JJ, she was sure it felt that way.

She sighed, shaking her head.  “But this isn’t helping.  You have to see that.”

She was almost begging him to see it.

His eyes weren’t quite focused as they came to bear on her.  “Because you won’t let me.”

“Because you’re drunk,” she said, and she reached for the open bottle of alcohol and shook it at him.  It made an empty noise.  “Remember?  You drank the whole bottle?”

He frowned at the bottle, suddenly quite concerned.  He shook his head.  “No, that’s not–” he started, turning to grapple with the food supplies on the other counter.  “There’s – another one–”

At that, she could only roll her eyes.  “Right, since we need another one,” she muttered, stilling his hand.  He looked back at her, with the wide blue eyes again that made her second guess everything.  This plan they had to wait it out.  This idea they had that JJ would be okay.

She wasn’t sure.

She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

If JJ could survive this.

If any of them could. 

“Look, why don’t we try sleep,” she suggested, wetting her lips as she pressed her mouth into some version of a smile.  “Sleep would be good for you.”

He furrowed his brow, head rolling loosely on his head as he almost looked at her.  “I’m not tired.”

She couldn’t exactly deny it, but it also didn’t matter.  “But you are very drunk, so I think the effect is the same, J.”

That was logic, and JJ was well beyond logic.  His expression betrayed his confusion, and she sighed, taking him by the arm and pulling him to his feet.  This time, at least, he was compliant.  With his arm over her shoulder, she wrapped her other hand around his waist, cajoling him forward.  One step, then another.

They crossed the threshold of the galley without much trouble.  JJ at least had some semblance of coordination left, so that was good.  

It would be better if he weren’t drunk.

But a lot of things could be better right now.

If she could just go back, right?  Back to letting JJ go with Groff to Goat Island, back to the town council meeting.  Back to all of it, right back to the race and the auction and Kitty Hawk, when she should have told him it was okay.  He was okay.  That he had always saved her as much as he thought she saved him.

Even now, his weight heavy on her, she could feel him shaking.  His head tipped forward, bangs in his face, and he made a sound, something soft and whimpering while she led him forward another step.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled to her.

She looked at him, but his eyes didn’t quite open – and they certainly didn’t focus.  It was a short walk to their cabin – but not short enough.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” she said, adjusting her grip.

Even as she said it, it didn’t ring true.  They’d blamed him, hadn’t they?  They’d laid it all out, back in the OBX.  They’d forced JJ to take accountability for all of it, every last thing.  And JJ had.  JJ had taken the blame.

And it was pretty clear he hadn’t let it go.

It was a fine line, wasn’t it?  Needing JJ to recognize his mistakes and shortcomings.

And not letting JJ drown in them.

Because JJ would.  JJ <i>was</i>.

For JJ, it was the same story that Luke had beaten into him all his life.  The lesson Groff had taught him when he left him for dead in the ocean.  It wasn’t JJ’s mistakes.  It was that JJ <i>was</i> the mistake.  They had every right to be upset with JJ.

But they hadn’t made it clear they still loved him.

They still wanted him.

They hadn’t done anything at all.

Now, Kiara worried, helping him to the door, it it might be too late.  If JJ was past the point of listening.  If JJ no longer wanted to be saved.

“Yeah, I do,” he said.  He shook his head, taking a stuttering breath.  “I screw everything up.”

She shimmied them through the door, and JJ staggered.  She grunted, pulling him upright the rest of the way.  “You don’t,” she said, pushing him onto the bed.  He rocked there for a moment before she eased him back, supporting his neck.  “You don’t.”

From his prone position, his eyes finally cleared enough to look at her.  “I do,” he said.  And there was a startling clarity to him now.  “You’re lying to me.  I know you think it.  I know you all think it.  How none of this would have happened if not for me.  You’d be back at Poguelandia.  You’d be happy.  You’d still have money.  You’d have everything.  But instead you’re stuck here.  <i>With me</i>.”

Her breath caught as the words formed.  With his inhibitions stripped away, JJ had no artifice left.  The truth was harsh and raw.

And part of her couldn’t deny it.

She’d thought it.  They all had.

In their anger.  In their frustration.  In their disappointment.

It was hard to reconcile.  JJ had made her happier than anyone else on this planet.

And he’d hurt her more than anyone, too.

Luke had taken so much from JJ.  Groff seemed keen to take the rest.

What was left.

God, Kiara thought looking at him.  <i>What was left</i>.

She never should have let him go with Groff.  She knew JJ; she’d seen him go back to Luke time and time again, even until the end.

What chance did he have with Groff?

And she’d stayed behind to <i>pack</i>.

While serving up her boyfriend to his abuser with nothing more than a smirk and a handshake.

JJ’s truths were uncomfortable.

So were hers.

“Just it’s fine,” she said, the words weak as she patted him on the arm.  “Get some rest.”

Drunk as he was, JJ still knew when she was putting him off.  He knew when she meant it, and he knew when she didn’t.  He <i>knew</i>.

His expression was absolutely crestfallen, like he would have crumbled to pieces right there on the bed.  He turned his head away.  “It’s okay,” he mumbled.

She reached up, tipping his face back toward her.  “What?”

His eyes were clouded again, chest heaving as he labored for air.  “If you want to break up, it’s okay, I get it,” he said, tipping his head away again.  He shook his head, eyelashes wet as he blinked.  “I think you should.”

It was a punch, straight to her gut.  “What the hell, JJ?” she said.

He rolled his head back toward her, eyes focused on her just barely.  “You should break up with me.”

At this point, all she could do was gape.  “Is that what you want?”

The idea of it made her head turn.  She felt like she was reeling.  Everything that had happened – the ups and down – the mistakes they all made.  The blame they all carried.

She hadn’t thought – had she?

She’d thought it would be easier.

But she <i>hadn’t thought</i>.

She’d just assumed that it was her and JJ.

She’d assumed he knew that.

His face creased, nearly crumbling.  “No, never, you’re – perfect.  I love you so damn much, Kie, I love you,” he said, words slurred as they came out.  His next breath came heavier, more strained.  “But I keep hurting you.  I’m dragging you down.  Your parents were right about me–”

She shook her head, refusing to blink as her own eyes stung.  “They weren’t, and they know it,” she said, still remembering the conversations she’d had with them before leaving the OBX.  These legal troubles would make it harder – but her dad had been there.  Her dad had stopped the cops from shooting.  They had changed.  “And it doesn’t even matter.  What matters is what we want, right?”

He sighed, so tired that she wasn’t sure how he was even still awake.  “All I know how to do is hurt people,”  he said.  “Kiara, no one has wanted me all my life.  Everyone figures it out eventually.  You might as well figure it out now, before I take you down.”

That was what Luke had taught him.

That was what Groff had shown him.

God, she hated them.

She <i>hated</i> them.

They’d taken this boy and broken him.  They’d shattered him.

How the hell was she supposed to put him back together <i>now</i>?

Her silence was too long, and JJ’s soul was already too twisted.  His face crumpled, and this time he didn’t recover it.  “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, rolling away from her as he curled up on his side.  “I’m so sorry.”

It was horrible to watch.  She’d seen JJ cry before, but this was different.  His walls weren’t just down – they’d been stripped away.  And not just the alcohol.

Groff had done this.

Groff had taken JJ apart, bit by bit.  He’s stabbed him and left him to drown.

And <i>shit</i> they’d let him do it.  They’d practically served JJ up to Groff on a silver platter.  

What could she do now?  She could pull him from the ocean – but could she pull him from this?  Could you save someone who didn’t want to be saved?

Could you save someone who didn’t even think they could be saved?

Chest clenched, she lifted her hand up, she ran her hands through his arm, humming softly to him as the cries shook him.  It took a few moments, a few long moments, before the cries started to taper off, and he eased – slipping into an uneasy sleep.

She sat there longer, just watching him breathe, wondering how she could live without this.

Much less how she could live <i>with this</i>.

Sighing, she checked his breathing – just to be sure – and brushed his hair back from his forehead.  He was still on his side, and she pulled the sheets up, tucking them around him as best she could.

How had it gotten this bad?

How had she let it get <i>this bad</i>?”

She hadn’t thought this through; she hadn’t thought any of it through.

Falling in love – that shit was easy.

Staying together, though – that was hard.

And keeping JJ alive?

As it turned out, that might just be the hardest task of all.  She liked to think she wouldn’t fail.  But failure, when she looked at JJ, was starting to be all she could see.

JJ’s failure, yes.

Her own.

Because he shouldn’t have bet the money, and she never should have let him alone with Groff.  His failure was action; hers was inaction.  The penalty might cost them everything.

Leaning down, she kissed his cheek.  He made a noise beneath her, something small and desperate before she shushed him again and he settled back into stillness.

She loved him.

She didn’t have to think that through.

She <i>loved him</i>.

And that, she hoped, had to be enough.

[coolcattime]

👀

So, I’ve been looking through my notes for different AUs because as it turns out I have a lot (and half the ones I open turn out to be about OCs, which I could ramble about, but not right now). So I wanna ramble for a little bit about my Mianite Blades in the Dark AU, which I have written a one shot for (and have a second one on my list of things to write), but I have no idea when I’ll actually get around to writing more of.

So I’ve talked previously about the Ianitees in this AU (here and here), mostly because that gang was important for the set up of the oneshot, but I haven’t talked about the full plot I actually wanted to go through.

So, Sonja has learnt that Capsize is alive, despite her death having been widely accepted, and that Jordan has gotten himself possessed by a demon. Once their reunion has had time to sink in, Wag joins the ladies to start presenting the actual full situation with what’s possessing Jordan: The Shadows - a demon whose true name has been lost to time but has been kept trapped inside the Shadow Diamond jewels. The arcane seals were beginning to fail, typically not the biggest deal as people with occult power like Wag will just strengthen the seal before it can break out and possess anyone and the whole thing will be fine for another hundred years. Unfortunately Capsize and Jordan touched the pieces, allowing the demon to fully break the seal and possess Jordan (due to Capsize’s demonbane’s charm protecting her).

Wag goes on to explain that the easiest way to get the demon out of Jordan without either killing him or them all having to fight a demon that full strength, is to redo the original sealing ritual, for which they’ll need to collect every single one of the jewellery pieces without alerting possessed!Jordan to either the fact they’re collecting them or that Capsize is actually alive. Sonja asks why they need to track them down at all, given that Ianite should have all the pieces but the ring that Wag has and a pair of earrings (that she saw Jordan wearing) in her private collection. Wag says they had assumed so too, but that pieces of the collection have been sold through some of the city’s shadier methods, to buyers far richer than himself.

So, with very few leads on where exactly to start, Capsize suggests that they need a bigger crew. Sonja assumes she means getting someone from Ianite’s crew into the know, but Capsize shakes her head, there’s too much of a risk of being caught by the demon and it just running off with Jordan’s body. They need someone connected enough in the criminal world of the city to get them leads, but also someone who won’t rat out that Capsize is alive and will believe them about Jordan not being Jordan.

Enter Tom: the right-hand of one of the other two major gangs in the city, Jordan’s sometime’s maybe boyfriend, and a good friend of Capsize despite their opposing gangs. Tom is a Slide, known for his two methods of criminal activity either being subtle social manipulations or extremely loud heists typically involving explosions. For the past month, he’s noticed odd changes in Jordan. At first he’d attributed it to watching Capsize die, but he slowly started to think that something was completely and utterly wrong with how seemingly callous he’s become. When he’s summoned by Wag, he thinks the invitation is odd, but still visits the man, surprised but overwhelmingly happy to see Capsize alive. They catch him up to speed on the situation and he agrees to help them, and also says he’ll gather some makeup and clothes so Capsize can go around the city without her survival being made clear.

Then the story is a bunch of heists with a slowly growing crew. I don’t have too many ideas for heists, except for one taking place at a charity ball/auctions run by Spark (who had “miraculously recovered” one of the Shadow Diamond pieces and is auctioning it off with permission of the original owners), where they need to publicly steal the jewel both without being caught and without Spark (or any other members of Ianite’s crew at the venue) realising that Capsize is alive.

[createandchaos]

#god finally someone who Gets It #the fanon interpretation of haha himbo idiot rodimus passes me off so much #like part of it is jro's fault for playing it up #but there's so much nuance to rodimus that most of the fandom just skips #like read the rest of the comics #mtmte and ll were both good#but there's so much more to rodimus than that#read his spotlight#read primacy and autocracy #when I was still rping rodimus so much of his characterization came from the other comics #and I still got anon hate for being ooc bc “lmao roddy's too stupid and irresponsible for these things” #like ??? no??? he's not???? #he is just as traumatized and exhausted of war as the next mech#he's not some frat boy himbo #@ op sorry for the tag rant #I literally got so tired of this fanon interpretation it booted me from the rpc #and mostly tf in general

@ganonthot Do not apologize for this, this was a delightful read.

I will say that with James Roberts, I think it wasn't him purposefully portraying him that way in the actual canon but fans actually taking him too seriously on social media when he was clearly joking. Because the way he writes him in More than Meets the Eye and Lost Light shows he IS a competent leader, he's capable of doing far more than people give him credit for and the way he talked about him at the 2017 TFCon panel is really deep and considerate.

This lines up with what we see throughout MTMTE and LL!!! This isn't new, it just probably wasn't as intense as it is now because he was amplifying parts of his personality in small increments because they were still at war. To do it to the degree it was at in MTMTE/LL wouldn't just be dangerous, it'd have actually gotten people killed. So he likely only did enough to not be a liability.

It's also probably as bad as it is in MTMTE and LL because before the series starts he almost dies (or possibly did since Roche drew his spark being gone) at Megatron's hands, he's stranded on an alien planet with the Matrix fused to his chest, AND he discovers Ironhide and Sunstreaker are alive on Cybertron and what Galvatron plans to do with Vector Sigma. He has no time to amplify, he needs to warn the Autobots of what's happening. And when it's all done and the war's actually over he's left with four million years of trauma, his latest traumatic experience, and he's no longer in full-time survival mode.

It's at the end of the Remain in Light arc that Rodimus has stopped using this coping mechanism, instead trying to better himself during the entirety of The Sound of Breaking Glass and Dark Cybertron.

But then Optimus completely wrecks this, @decepticonsenual and @autisticthassarian having great posts on Rodimus' leadership and his regression here and here respectively. And personally, I think Autocracy also played a big role in his regression which JRo might've kept in mind.

Autocracy is where we get Rodimus' origins and see one of the most traumatic moments of his life: Nyon's destruction by his hands. Both Megatron and Optimus justify it but I think he took it deeply when Optimus justified it because he framed leadership as making hard choices, loneliness, self-doubt, and having the strength to do what needs to be done and make the hard choices. To Rodimus, who was an empty (destitute) and had just destroyed his home, killed his community, friends, and family to spare them from a far worse fate leaving only a handful of survivors he must've clung to this, placed all his trust, hopes, and wishes in the enforcer who tried to help only after the Omega Destructors arrivedCOUGH and told him at the end of Autocracy that maybe one day he'd carry the Matrix. So when he takes the initiative to make the hard choice and be honest with his crew and placed his fate in their hands, it's a slap to the face when his idol told him that no, it was the wrong choice and he's not fit at all to be a leader only to then later put Megatron on the Lost Light without consulting him at all. He finds out from Ratchet of all people that this is what's happening and he has no say in it because Optimus is the paragon of everything that is a "good leader."

Thinking about how the mtmte/ll fandom tends to portray rodimus as a manchild and/or a himbo to such an exaggerated degree that he's unrecognizable in the way that it loses that his story is that of someone who's painfully flawed and coping in life post war and has made really terrible mistakes and tries so hard to make up for it and the refusal to acknowledge and incorporate these aspects into your fan creations hurts what he's supposed to be and makes him static. He was homeless, he was an insurgent, he joined the autobots, he lost friends because of it, they died right in front of him, he's lost people under his command, he's reckless, he's arrogant, he's caring, he prefers to work alone as to not drag anyone down with him, he puts his life on the line to help people, he continues to make mistakes, he hides them, he owns it, tries to be better, he falls back into the worst of himself when he's essentially told it doesn't matter, he inspires people around him, and he stands by them despite their flaws and welcomes them to his crew. There's just so many things about him that aren't explored that I wish would be, especially when you bring in conversations from panels at TFCon.

[kimbap-r0ll]

Hi, just wanted to send this in! Headcanons for two characters of your choosing plus Chrollo about their reactions after their s/o’s death? Maybe like the grieving process. Bonus points if their death was caused in/directly by them 😈 angst angst angst

Hi, thank you for the ask! Ooh this is quite sad, I think I have two others that might be interesting to write for here

Chrollo, Feitan, Kurapika reactions to their s/o's death (inadvertently caused by them)

Chrollo

He had pushed you too far this time, telling you to go on the mission by yourself since you kept insisting you could do it. How foolish of him to let you go without thinking a certain chain user might be in the way. You hadn't returned after many hours. The mission shouldn't have taken that long, and the rest of the troupe was also agitated

The search started as soon as the sun began to rise. The troupe members scattered throughout the city to see if you were accidentally sleeping somewhere and forgot to come back. However, Chrollo stumbled upon your lifeless body in a rubbish dump. How fitting, you were from Meteor City, a junkyard.

"Y/n, are you sleeping?" He laughed, but as he kept calling out, you weren't responding. Touching your face, he felt his heart stop. You were cold. "Y/n," he breathed out. The sun's rays caress your face as if you were reached by the heavens. But this moment was nothing peaceful inside Chrollo's heart.

The troupe returned and saw Chrollo carrying you. The rest of them asked what had happened, he remained calm however. "We lost another it seems," he says quietly. Though he looks composed, the entire room fills with bloodlust that fades just as quickly as it came. He asks to be left alone and the rest of the spiders oblige.

Chrollo does not show his emotions to others, especially because as a leader he must be strong. But he breaks down, he had failed his role in keeping the spiders, no, you safe. Though revenge is something he wants, at the moment he wants nothing more than for you to hear his apologies of not keeping you safe

Feitan

He knew he was rough, that was why at first he didn't want to be in a relationship with anyone, especially someone outside of the troupe. You were just a regular person, you didn't know about anything related to the troupe nor nen, you were fragile. But maybe it was that fragility and that brightness that drew him to you.

This time however, you found out about his business with the troupe. You were upset at him hiding this fact from you, and this sparked a fight between the two of you. Feitan warned you to calm down, but it was really him that should have calmed down because the minute you threatened to let the officials know he quickly aimed his hand for your neck.

Had you been any other nen user or opponent he was used to, you would have survived and maybe had a sore throat for a few months. However, he punctured your neck, causing blood to spill and for you to splurt out a weak "Feitan" before slipping to your knees. Ater a split second he realized what he had just done.

"Y-y/n," it was the first time you had seen any emotion from him. It was fear. His eyes grew wide, he held you up, trying to keep you from falling. You tried tell him sorry, but blood kept spilling everywhere and your words were reduced to nonsense choking. Feitan kept telling you to shut up and that you had to stay alive.

It was an agonizing two minutes before you lost consciousness and eventually stopped breathing. Feitan stood up, not knowing what to do with your body. He was used to cleaning up corpses with what his job demanded, but this time he was lost. The next time the troupe saw him, he was a lot colder than usual. No one knew what had happened, other than that when Phinks asked where Feitan's lover was Feitan gave him a punch but his eyes held sadness more than anger

Kurapika

He shouldn't have prioritized his path of revenge over the lives of people he cared about. Sure, the Kurta seemed to call to him to avenge their deaths, but those that were living were also calling to him to not go down the path of destruction. He should've listened a little harder to those that were still with him in the physical world.

Being someone from Meteor City, someone that was close to the troupe didn't exactly translate to you being sympathetic to the spiders. But an argument got heated, and he lost control. You were trying to get him to stop his fight to hunt for the rest of the Kurta eyes and even the troupe but he thought you didn't understand his pain. Nen was involved soon enough.

Though you tried to fight him, he was skilled. Being Kurta made Kurapika much stronger too even in terms of sheer physical strength. He couldn't use Emperor Time on you, but that didn't stop him from using his chains in general. When you thought he was done with his chains, you rushed to restrain him from continuing his anger but he only grabbed for a nearby pen.

The anger blinded him from seeing what had just happened. The next thing he remembered after you told him that he should stop his revenge was that he had a pen in his hand that was stabbed into your chest. You were coughing violently, eyes wide and brimming with tears. You told him you were sorry and that you should've understood him better. Weakly, you reached up to his face, meeting his red eyes that soon faded back to brown. But you were too weak, your eyes closed and you slumped.

"No," Kurapika breathed out, "No no no no, y/n, y/n don't leave me," he shook you, holding you up and trying to get you to wake up. His actions took someone's life once again, another burden to shoulder. He knew his anger could be deadly, but never did he think it could kill you. How was he to forgive himself any longer when he was already feeling the anguish of his clan? Kurapika cried as he held you, repeating apologies and refusing to let go of you.

[kujojotarolover]

Queen of the meadow for Jotaro, please!

cw: Yandere Themes, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Assault, Injury / Injury Imagery, Possessive / Obsessive Thoughts, Isolation, Allusions to Isolation, Death, Mentions of Death, General Dark Themes not Suitable for Immature Audiences. Reader-Insert, Gender Neutral, pre-6taro. Uncomfortable scenarios included, read at your own discretion! 18+ ONLY!

author's note: This is the last request for these prompts! I hope that you enjoyed them and that this one is to your liking as well! I had a lot of fun writing these. These "Yandere Prompts Flower Language" were written and coined by @/nanasparadise . That original post can be found here. I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is not a good situation. Please, stay safe!

PROMPT: Queen of the Meadow (uselessness): "Be grateful you've got me. Who else would take care of such a useless thing like you?"

word count: Approximately 1.1k

Kujo Jotaro knew that this would happen. 

Since the beginning, days and months and years long gone to the winds of time, he’s known this. Before everything skewed, before everything turned for the worse and Jotaro didn’t think there was much to life besides growing up, getting a life, and then growing old. That death itself was merely just the destination, the end of the narrow and winding and precarious road that stretched for miles and miles on rocky terrain. That life was a pass-time meant to be spent filling it with whatever one so desired. 

And then, in the blink of an eye, Jotaro’s life flipped and suddenly the world lay beneath the top of his head. 

Life was no longer fun and easygoing. The hardest part had only just begun. And it was the longest one. Jotaro would never be the same. Death was his new beginning. The end of the way that Jotaro recklessly drove to because the hazardous roadblocks along were just too much. Too much lost, too much decayed. All of it—gone. 

But at least Jotaro had you. 

The flagger that guided Jotaro through the detour of denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and—the one Jotaro never thought he would be able to fathom—acceptance. To process the change of his new life, to accept the reality that Jotaro will never be able to live a normal life. 

You’ve been there since the start. The rev to his ignition. The spark that sent electricity coursing through his bones and made him feel alive. You’ve been there through it all. You’ve known Jotaro for all of these years. For so many years. You knew him and you stayed alive. You’re here, you’re breathing. You’re flesh and blood. Jotaro can stretch his arm out, let his fingertips trace the smoothness of your arm, and embrace you. You didn’t die. 

You survived it all and Jotaro couldn’t handle change. 

So, through the dark and harrowing black of the whispers in his mind, Jotaro stole you away. 

He took you away from the dangers of the world, away from all of the deadly and ominous threats that lurked in the shadows of his peripherals. He was keeping you safe, protecting you. Jotaro wanted nothing more than to make sure that your body remained unscathed and that beautiful mind stayed intact. To make sure you didn’t perish in the world that wanted nothing more than to eat you alive. 

Jotaro had done such a good job so far. He had. Keywords. 

Everything had been going so well. He was so in love with you, in love with a past he could never experience ever again. He had spent years perfecting himself, his methods, and your wellbeing. Trapped away, hidden in a place not a single soul would even dare to look. Jotaro kept your existence transparent. Everyone who could even be someone had forgotten that you’d even been a person, faded away from the claws of memory and disappeared within the flow. 

Stored in the walls of his home. Always there. Always smothered. Always suffocating. Caged where nothing could bring you harm. 

Years. Since that fateful trip to Egypt. Over twenty years. You’d been there. Crying, begging, sobbing, sniveling. You pleaded and you prayed—but Jotaro didn’t budge. How could he? Though you were completely shattered, you were where Jotaro could always protect you. 

So why? 

Why did you run away whenever he wasn’t looking? 

Jotaro reprimanded himself. Vicious and terrible words of anger stung his skin and he felt a gross spit in his mouth that he swished around and spat to the ground as he stormed forward. Cold tensions made him compress and shiver, but he was nothing except on fire. Embers of rage broiled and bubbled beneath the top of his skin, down deep where no scratch would alleviate. 

His eyes prickled with a temperature Jotaro had never known before as he glanced down at you. 

There, in his arms, lay your absolutely ravaged and demolished body. Bleeding, bruised, broken. So small, so weak, so tiny in his grasp as he clutched you closer and tightened his hold with a hushed snarl. Seafoam eyes roved down the cuts on your body, on the wounds of fate that would never heal no matter how much ointment he applied, and Jotaro felt like he might just go crazy by the sight alone. The curves of his filed nails left grooves into your clothes, into the marred flesh. The skin of his knuckles pale. 

Jotaro was furious. 

Furious at you? At the enemy Stand User that attacked you? At himself? 

Jotaro couldn’t answer that. 

The fact that he’d been right made him itch with this crawling sensations of pins and needles and Jotaro felt like he could flinch and arch away from himself as that realization dawned on him. As soon as you faced the world with those doe eyes, that naïve air, that joy and innocence and hope and love that made Jotaro feel like he was but a young boy again, Jotaro knew someone would prey on you. He’d been correct! You should have listened to him! DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND WHY HE DID THIS? WHY HE COVETED YOU?

Yet, you selfishly ran away from Jotaro! You fled and someone that wanted to make Jotaro suffer smirked and stalked your frail self like a cat to a mouse. An enemy that must have been watching his house, keeping a close track on him, and see? Even whenever Jotaro thought he was safe, something had to happen to make him doubt himself. 

Death had almost taken you and Jotaro couldn’t comprehend. 

Had Jotaro not arrived in time to save you, there might not even be a heartbeat pumping through your body. You would be dead. Dead. And Jotaro feels like his stomach is turning and twisting into knots that make him feel drunk. He almost staggers. The Kujo Jotaro. A man that’s so collected, so prepared, so still. Weaving and wobbling like he was absolutely plastered and it’s all because he can’t stop the eventual panic searing his poor mind. 

Jotaro feels his vision go for a spin and he grits his teeth with a disgruntled groan. 

He can’t believe it. 

He was right. 

He was always right. 

And Jotaro feels a scalding conflagration of blinding white fill his world as he stares down at your body in pinched agony and growls, 

“Tch, dammit. You don’t understand. Everything I’ve done is for you. Now you could die. Be grateful you’ve got me. Who else would take care of such a useless thing like you?”

Jotaro’s head veered forward, dangling and swaying over your heaving body like a slurred riff of musical static, and he stared at the wince of sleepy pain etched onto your features with a gaunt and haunted swallow. 

“Because I can’t lose the only thing left.” 

Not again.

[doruumon]

[crawls out of my hole to discuss meta in public]

I have thought about this before. Including right now, as I’m writing a fic about it.

This is long as hell.

First off, according to the published story “Force of Habit,” Rodimus is on the hunt for Cyber Planet Keys and lost colonies during the events of Cybertron, and while not communicating directly with Team OP, he is kept in the loop via reports.

By this point it is known by the Autobot and Decepticon high ranks that Sideways is Unicron’s highest harbinger; Armada made that very clear to Optimus and Megatron, and while OP may not have gone back and told his team Everything that happened in Unicron’s spark chamber, he likely would have said at least that much.

Even if he didn’t, the rest of the teams knew they got screwed over by Sideways.

Rodimus read through the reports of what happened in Armada—I’m willing to bet my dinner on it. How else would he know who to contact in Energon to best get his plans going. He knows who is close to Optimus, so he’d know what gets written down. So he would have at least read the name Sideways before.

The thing about Sideways in canon is that he is practically invisible until it’s too late; he shows up when Unicron senses a planet that is out of balance in terms of chaos, going either one way or the other, and he shows up to survey the scene. Once he’s there, this is your only chance at survival. He goes back and forth to try and tip the scales one way or the other, and if things get too bad, he dips and Unicron comes to feed.

So there are rarely survivors to tell the tale of Sideways.

And the thing about Planet X is that seemingly no one remembered it. There were legends of Gigantion, but none of X—that we know of, anyway. They were an advanced society, so there are likely aliens that knew about them. And Rodimus went around speaking to many alien species (that is how he met Alpha Q before their home world was eaten). So the chances of him at least hearing of the lost world are higher than most Cybertronians.

X was deeply tied to Unicron in some way. So the dots are easy to connect.

Rodimus knew that Unicron could Create; the Minicons were proof enough, even though he wouldn’t know about that until everyone else learned it. But, when he met Q again/when they were attempting to harness Unicron’s energy, he listened. They did their research. It made sense. Turns out the problem is uhhh no one can control Unicron. Oops.

However.

However.

Unicron and Primus both speak of balance. The universe cannot exist without both of them. If one is gone, everything will eventually collapse. He understands this. He was there. So he would hear these two, who they are, what they want to do.

They want their home back. That’s all.

These two are Unicron’s highest-ranking heralds.

The universe NEEDS Unicron to continue being stable. Right now, he’s trapped behind a black hole.

If anyone could sway Unicron, it would be those two. Bringing back a world that seemingly worshipped Him, AND His spark? He might be willing to see reason.

Primus is speaking again. He’d be open to reason because He knows the same thing everyone else does, and then some.

I firmly believe Rodimus would find a way to have a truce of some kind with them. Optimus has had MULTIPLE severe anxiety attacks over the course of TF Cybertron, he needs that help more than he’s willing to admit. They need everything they can to ensure their universe survives. Without Unicron, if there is just Primus, eventually everything will still collapse. Optimus is Light. He IS a part of Primus. He can’t hold up everything by himself. He needs the Chaos. Unicron and Primus both told him he thrives in it—and it’s also what keeps him alive.

It took Kicker to help Optimus recognize that Rodimus wasn’t being unreasonable in siding with Alpha Q, and he took being proven wrong fairly well. They may not be friends, but in a round 2, I believe Rodimus would convince him they need Sideways and Soundwave.

So. Yes.

I do firmly agree that Rodimus would have worked with them, even if he didn’t fully trust them. Because if they want their home, they need Primus.

Also Soundwave tried to revive Unicron on his own in the comic “Balancing Act” and that ended REAL BAD for him so yeah he knows they need help from the Light. Which is why they want the Lock and Keys. Light saves the Darkness, just as Darkness protects the light.

Somethin’ tells me (Energon) Rodimus would be a lot more sympathetic to Sideways and Soundwave’s situation than any of the other Autobots are rn…

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

@nessianweek Day 5: Music. A scene I wished we had in ACOSF: Cassian filling the symphonia with Nesta's favourite music because he's a massive simp who knows no limits when it comes to the woman he loves.

Overture

Overture: noun. An orchestral piece at the beginning of an opera; an introduction to something more substantial. 

Hope springs eternal amongst optimists and fools, but Cassian was hoping he was neither.

It had taken root within him last night. A hope he wanted desperately to believe was neither foolish nor needlessly optimistic, a hope that had bloomed in the darkness of the Hewn City. So far removed from the sky littered with stars, Cassian had felt hope ignite like a fledgling flame last night— so tremblingly new, so fragile. Hope he didn’t ever want to see die. 

All because of a dance.

The second Nesta had stepped onto the dance floor, Cassian had been mesmerised. She was a thing of beauty spearing through the horror and cruelty, and he’d never seen a thing more wondrous, more magnificent.

Language had failed him. Words hadn’t been enough, didn’t do her justice. 

She was stunning. So agonisingly beautiful in Night Court black that he’d almost fallen to his knees. Glamoured to mask the scent of him that clung to her, Cassian hadn’t thought he could want her more— but he was aching now, burning with longing that had nothing to do with the marks he’d left on her skin, the dress that made her look like a conqueror, a goddess. No, ever since last night, he had been desperate for her in an entirely new way, all because of the way she had sparked when the band struck up.

In the cradle of the melody, in the arms of the sonata, Nesta had come alive. 

It was a sight he wanted to treasure forever, one that he would carry with him to his dying day, and one that he would do anything in his power to see again. She’d told him she liked music, but he hadn’t realised just how much, and it was with that knowledge that he had woken early that morning and returned to the Hewn City. Willingly descended into the darkness and let the mountain swallow him whole. 

He could think of nothing but her. His siphons burned as he stood once more in that throne room, thinking solely of how she’d moved across that floor but hours ago. How, if these walls could speak, they’d write eulogies about the night Nesta Archeron danced in their hall.

He hadn’t tasted fresh air for over an hour, nor glimpsed a single shaft of sunlight. All that survived down here was darkness and cruelty— and, apparently, music.

The Court of Nightmares had music. Refrains he’d never before paid attention to, ballads he’d never had much reason to note. The band in the corner had been there at every celebration he’d ever attended here, but he’d never before stepped onto the dance floor. For centuries, he’d spent each agonising engagement leaning menacingly against a pillar, but all of that had changed last night. Nesta had been lost in the music, and Cassian had found himself lost too. Suddenly the music wasn’t just a combination of instruments and notes, scales and arpeggios. It was her. A piece of her she’d kept hidden, one that made him breathless with longing. She had echoed the beat, followed it, anticipated it, as if it were a part of her. As if it were a song composed for her and her alone, and the rest of them were just lucky bystanders— blessed to even witness it.

Fucking Nesta was one thing, but oh, Cassian wanted so much more. Yearned for so, so much more. No matter how many times he’d had her, how many times they met, frantic, clawing at one another in a rush of tearing clothes and plundering kisses… It wasn’t enough. He wanted to fall asleep at her side. To wake in the mornings and see the sunlight kiss her face, to brush her shoulder with his fingertips, his touch one of devotion.

The look in her eyes as she danced… The way she moved to the music as if it were a language created solely for her… Cassian wanted to see that look on her face every damn day for the rest of eternity.

So as soon as dawn had broken, he’d sought out and paid a small fortune for a tiny device Helion had once told him of. One that trapped and contained music, to be played again and again as much as the heart desired— as much as Nesta’s heart desired. 

With the symphonia in hand, he’d flown right here— back to the Court of Nightmares, the place that, despite everything, had the music Nesta so adored. Hope glistened, warm in his chest as he looked at the symphonia and thought of her. He hoped to see that smile again on her face, dreamed of the way her eyes would light up as she realised what the symphonia was, what it did. He hoped that she’d let him kiss her the way he’d wanted to from their very first meeting— softly, reverently. Not just to get her into his bed, but to show her how deep his devotion ran. He hoped the symphonia would prove to her how much he adored her. How much she meant. 

Hoped, too, that he wasn’t a fool for dreaming.

***

Casting a red glow on the smooth cut floors, his seven siphons made sinister shadows of the carved walls. The dips and crevices in the rock, the monstrous engravings… made all the more fearsome when bathed in crimson. Yet Cassian barely gave them a second look. Didn’t even blink as he paced before Rhys’ vacant throne and looked out at the musicians assembled before him.

“Again,” he instructed, voice echoing in the emptiness of the throne room. The vast space was almost bare, all decoration from the night before vanished. As if it had never happened, as if Nesta hadn’t damn near brought this entire court to its knees without uttering a single word. 

The instruction was for the musicians. For the conductor standing there, looking slightly faint. 

It was not for the steward of the Hewn City, the bastard standing closer to that throne than any of them. To Cassian’s utter fucking chagrin, he had insisted on bearing witness to this entire thing, and Keir smirked now— triumphant, wanting to ruin this in any way he could. Cassian had never loathed him more. 

With a furrowed brow, the conductor practically trembled as he stepped forward, as if just being in the presence of the mighty general of the Night Court was something to fear. Cassian even let his siphons flare just a little. He had never relished or enjoyed the reputation Rhys cultivated in this court, but today… if it got him what he needed, if it let him give Nesta what she needed, then Cassian had precisely zero qualms about a bloodthirsty reputation. He’d embrace it with open arms if it meant those arms could finally hold Nesta as she slept.

“It was perfect that time—“ the conductor began, but his words died as Cassian shook his head sharply.

“No,” Cassian countered. “It wasn’t.”

He cast a glance at Keir, standing to the side, right next to that carved throne. Keir had coughed. Cleared his throat deliberately whilst the piano and the violin reached a crescendo. The bastard had coughed, and though Cassian couldn’t be sure the symphonia had picked it up, it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. If he didn’t have other places to be, he might well have broken each and every one of Keir’s fingers.

“Who knew the Lord of Bloodshed had such a discerning ear,” Keir remarked archly, eyes narrowed in distaste as he took in all seven of those gleaming siphons, the fists Cassian had clenched. He kept his temper tightly reined whenever he suffered the presence of Mor’s ghastly father, and he had endured so many slights and insults over the centuries that there was generally little Keir could say to really get under his skin. But in this, in something that wasn’t for him at all but for Nesta… It was swiftly becoming unbearable, and Cassian needed to get this done before he really did break Keir’s fingers.

“Keep it up, Keir, and the only music these halls will hear for the next decade will be your screams as I peel your skin from your bones.” 

The threat only earned Cassian another smirk, one he ignored as he stepped forward towards the small wooden table set up beside the conductor. The small silver symphonia sitting atop looked so out of place here— so bright and beautiful, practically glowing in the dim light, that Cassian thought it was fitting, really. He’d endure centuries of this darkness, plunge himself into the deepest, most malevolent parts of the world, all for her— Nesta was the bright and beautiful crack in the blackness, the light at the heart of his world. 

He tapped the symphonia the way he’d been instructed, and when it began to glow softly, he nodded to the conductor and the assembled musicians and said, “Again.”

This time when the violinist drew his bow over the strings, Cassian gave Keir a look that said he didn’t make idle threats. Letting his hand drift to the hilt of the dagger at his thigh, Cassian kept his eyes trained on him as the music built, and built, and built, and only when it was done - truly perfect, this time - did he uncurl his fingers from around the leather-wrapped hilt, pluck up the silver device from the table, and leave without a backward glance.

***

It was an overture.

The symphonia, the music— it was a promise of something more, a prayer for something more meaningful.

A foundation laid, a promise given. Cassian kept his fingers wrapped tightly around that tiny piece of wondrous engineering as he navigated the narrow streets and back alleys of the most unsavoury part of Velaris. He hoped she’d know— that she’d see this for what it was. A beginning. The prologue of the story he so desperately wanted to write with her. Hoped that when she heard the music, she’d read in the symphonia the words he couldn’t yet say aloud.

I love you.

I love you, every facet and every piece. I love you, and I am yours.

Hoped that when he next kissed her, when she next let him in her bed, she’d ask him to stay.

He reached a battered oak door beneath an aged and swinging tavern sign. The White Hart, renowned for its gambling den and watered down beer— hardly famed for its orchestra. And yet, he’d found Nesta here on several occasions since the war, and each time she’d sworn she’d only came for the music. He’d never believed her, but after last night, he realised how foolish he had been. 

He was met instantly with the scent of old ale and cheap wine. His feet stuck to the floor as he walked, spilled drinks and Mother only knew what else thick beneath his boots. Oh, he’d been so foolish. He should have taken Nesta to the opera. Should have gotten her tickets to the theatre, accompanied her to musicals and proms, concerts under the stars. Instead, he’d left her alone to search for a melody in the seediest of taverns, down the darkest of alleys. Guilt and regret settled heavily in his gut as he cast his gaze about this tavern, and he swore that after Solstice, after he’d gifted her the symphonia and all but surrendered his heart entirely, he’d take her to every show, every performance. Every genre, every theme— he’d promise her all of it. 

He’d give her the music she wanted, the songs and the symphonies, because he’d failed her before, and he refused to do so again. 

Ever.

***

“You’re out of your mind,” the barkeep scoffed, little impressed by Cassian’s seven siphons. He towered over the bar, a burly figure almost as tall and as broad as Cassian, with no hair on his head and a thick beard covering his jaw. Unlike the conductor at the Hewn City, this man would not be swayed by a fearsome reputation. Cassian supposed you didn’t run an establishment like this, in this part of town, without growing a thick skin so… Threats wouldn’t get him what he wanted this time. 

“This lot play their best when they’re deep in their cups,” the barman continued, waving a hand towards the group of fae sitting at the edge of a raised platform that served as a stage. One was restringing a lute, the only indication that they were, indeed, the musicians Cassian was looking for. The rest sat smoking, playing cards, their instruments mostly discarded around them. “They’re far too sober for what you need, General.”

“I don’t care,” Cassian shrugged, leaning on the hammered bronze-topped bar. “Tell them to play.”

A curt, dismissive, shrug was his only response. 

“It’s important,” Cassian pressed. “I need them to play for me.”

With an exasperated sigh, the barkeep shook his head. He wiped at a puddle of ale with a rag that had seen better days, before looking Cassian up and down and saying, slyly, “For the High Lady’s sister then, is it?”

Cassian didn’t know if he was just that obvious, or if the barman could scent Nesta on him, her perfume lingering on his skin. He rather hoped it was the latter— hoped that she’d marked him in some way, that he carried a piece of her with him wherever he went. Still, the sly smile of the barkeep made him scowl. “What would you know of it?” he asked flatly. 

“I know you came here looking for her once or twice,” the barman shrugged, “and I know that she’s the only fucking soul that actually seemed to like the music they put out.” He hummed lightly, contemplatively. “I figure if you’re here here wanting them to play, it’s for her. Which is fine. I liked her.” He braced his arms on the bar, looking at Cassian with interest. “Never gave me any trouble, always tipped well.”

His eyes drifted to the stage, to the small space that served as a makeshift dance floor, little more than a wide gap between tables. Cassian wondered if this man had seen Nesta lost in the music too. If it had dragged him under her spell the way it had Cassian. 

Pulling out a heavy gold coin, enough to buy an entire night’s worth of ale, Cassian raised an eyebrow. Holding it up between his thumb and forefinger, he said, “If you truly liked her— tell them to play.”

The barman considered the coin, his gaze flitting between it and the dance floor Nesta must have once made her own. After a long moment, he shook his head ruefully, pointing at the symphonia Cassian had pulled from his pocket and set on the bar.

“It’s no good,” he insisted. “You say it stores sounds? Then what am I to do about my patrons?” He waved a hand at the handful of fae lingering by the bar, refilling their tankards as soon as they were drained. At the four occupied gambling tables. Cassian had thought he’d find the place empty since it was early in the afternoon, but Solstice made the people start early, it seemed. “They’re far too loud for such a thing, surely.”

With such perfect, ironic, timing Cassian half wondered whether it was deliberate, a glass was smashed on the other side of the room, a fight breaking out over a game of cards. The barman did nothing to intervene, only folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow as if to say, see?

“So get them out,” Cassian said simply, dipping into his pocket and producing a small purse, one heavy and weighted with more golden coins. This was swiftly becoming the most expensive gift he’d ever given anybody, ever— but Nesta was worth it. Each gold coin and each copper penny— worth it. “All of them.”

Warily, the barman sighed. “They won’t be happy,” he warned, but he took the purse in hand nonetheless. Cassian shot him a wicked grin, and let his siphons pulse brighter. 

“Leave it to me.”

***

By order of the High Lord this establishment is to be closed immediately, effective until this evening.

Cassian snorted to himself as the musicians lingering in the corner picked up their instruments and, with no small degree of exasperation, prepared to play. Rhys would be furious when he found out— that Cassian had made such a declaration, in a voice that carried, echoed, drowning out the grunts and groans from the disgruntled patrons of the White Hart. That he’d muscled several drunken citizens out of the backstreet tavern, all ostensibly at the High Lord’s command— in the name of filling the symphonia with Nesta’s favourite songs.

An absurd abuse of power but… What else was he to do?

Stroll casually over to a table of gamblers and say, you need to leave because I want the band to play some songs for the woman I love? Hold the door open for them and say, I’ve closed the place down because Nesta’s solstice gift requires it, and I’d apologise for the inconvenience except I’m not sorry at all? 

The barman polished glasses as Cassian sat at a table before that little stage, the symphonia ready and waiting. The lutist began to play, flautists following, and when he heard the strains, Cassian couldn’t help but think of what would happen when he handed the symphonia over. After he placed it in a tiny little box, tied it off with a pretty little bow… What then?

This clever little device was so much more than something to just record sounds.

It was his entire heart, held out, offered on bended knee. It was him telling her that, though they’d spent months mindlessly fucking, he didn’t want that anymore. He saw every piece of her— each melody, all of her harmonies. Each note, each rhythm. He saw it all. Loved it all.

He’d hand her everything. Give her every piece of him until there was nothing left, if only she’d take it. 

Gods, he wanted nothing more than for her to take it. 

As the band continued to play, Cassian watched the symphonia glow, storing the sound of Nesta’s favourite song. This wasn’t just a collection of music— not just a novelty gift he’d picked up at short notice. This was every last piece of hope Cassian had, held within it like the songs it captured. It was his dream for the future, one where Nesta could never doubt how completely he was hers. One where she was his, too. 

The piece reached its crescendo, loud and vibrant, echoing down to his very bones, and Cassian closed his eyes, praying that whatever happened when he gave her this gift…

It was just the overture. 

[dramioneficrecommendations]

Best Draco/Hermione Fics Dramione Shippers Read in 2020

A few days ago, I asked you what were the best Dramione fics you'd read in 2020. Here's the huge list of your excellent recs (in alphabetical order):

A Creature Most Unusual by JMilz: Draco Malfoy is on a mission. Unfortunately, Hermione Granger catches him in the act. When she sees that he has adopted a rather unusual magical creature, she becomes determined to make sure he takes care of it. Little does she know, the animal may hold her key to eternal glory . . . and a whirlwind romance. M, 9 Chapters, 24,460 Words

A Little More Alive, Far Less Lost by MGL_Dramione_Lover: After Draco's post-war trial, he finds himself attending his 8th year at Hogwarts with Hermione. As remorse and acceptance replace anger and hate, the old enemies begin a friendship that sparks into much more than they ever hoped for. Hermione's goal as Head Girl is to banish old prejudices and unite the school while Draco's only wish is to become a man worthy of her love. M, 22 Chapters, 84,823

A New Light by mithrilstarlight: Draco spent six years doing his best to keep his head down. Then he runs into Hermione Granger. Turns out, they actually have a lot in common.Chapters posted M/W/F. T, 18 Chapters, 33,876 Words

A Second Look by RiverWriter: Her best friend's life was a mess and she would have done anything to make things better for him and his sons. So, when she found her former enemy in a similar situation her heart went out to him as well... and the beautiful blond baby in his arms didn't hurt his case. It was certainly enough for her to give him a second look. M, 30 Chapters, 127,243 Words

All that is Rare by smithandbarrowman: In the wizarding world, it has long been assumed that men are Alphas and women are Omegas. However, when Hermione Granger discovers that assumptions are rarely factual, her status as one of only a handful of female alphas that has ever existed has men falling at her feet.But there’s only one man she wants, and like the male alphas before her, the hunt is on until he bears her mark. E, 31 Chapters, 119,755 Words

All the Wrong Things by LovesBitca8: Sequel to "The Right Thing to Do" - Draco's POV. Part 2 of the "Rights and Wrongs" series. E, 24 Chapters, 160,297 Words

All You Want by senlinyu: Eighth Year at Hogwarts was supposed to be Hermione’s. And it is, just not in the way she expects. Omegaverse fic. E, 36 Chapters, 172,651

apples & cream by LovesBitca8: She could have taken her things and gone through his Floo without a word. She could have ignored him on Monday morning, as though last night had been no more than a fever dream and too much Firewhisky. But she’d come back to bed. Inspired by the lovely NikitaJuice's "apples & cream." E, 1 Chapter, 1,426 Words

Beginning and End by mightbewriting: Years. Broken into months into weeks into days—into hours, minutes, seconds—into moments. Simple at one end, complex at the other. In Draco’s experience, moments, even when simple, had a habit of becoming irretrievable. Moments grew, stretched, multiplied into ages and eras that defined whole stretches of measurable time. Draco regretted several moments in his life, some within his control, some without: all of them irretrievable in nature. At a certain point, wedged between ‘what-ifs’ of his own devising, he’d stopped trying to keep track of those regrettable moments: now and then, pushing and pulling, coming and going, beginning and end. Moments were only moments for just as long. After that, he had no control. A Draco POV prequel to Wait and Hope. E, 48 Chapters, 242,100 Words

Bells on a Hill by HeyJude19: Left by his fiancée a month before the ceremony, Draco never got his dream wedding, so agreeing to assist Granger with her own wedding planning to distract himself from his broken engagement seems like a great idea—though Draco probably shouldn't fall in love with the bride-to-be. Based very (very) loosely on The Wedding Singer. T, WIP

Bending Light by scullymurphy: Draco Malfoy was in exile, though they called it protection. It was the summer after sixth year and he'd taken Dumbledore's offer, defected to the other side and been sent away to a small town in Italy for his troubles. No magic, few rules, and not a lot to do - until Hermione Granger showed up. M, WIP

Break for me by Ada_P_Rix: COMPLETE _______________ "-I told them this wouldn’t work.” He cut in through gritted teeth as he kept his eyes on Hermione, making her pulse quicken and she couldn’t help but clench her thighs together at the rough, husky tone of his voice. He didn’t miss it; his eyes landed on her thighs and they darkened even further. “I can’t help her when all I feel like I want to do is pin her down and fuck her into the mattress.” _______________ Hermione gets into a little accident at work and is infected with a hybrid potion created to cause certain heightened side effects. Draco offers to stick around to give his work partner a little support ... if he can Occlude long enough to resist her... E, 7 Chapters, 45,107 Words

Breath Mints / Battle Scars by Onyx_and_Elm: For a moment, she's almost giddy. Because Draco Malfoy's been ruined by this war and he's as out of place as she is and — yes, he has scars too. He's got an even bigger one. She wonders whether one day they'll compare sizes. E, 51 Chapters, 148,908 Words

Bring Him to His Knees by Musyc: Draco is on the case of a murderer, but to investigate, he needs a fake relationship - and a kink club play partner. When Hermione volunteers to take the role, both do their best to maintain the lie without letting each other know the truth: neither of them are acting. E, WIP

Calendar Boys by anne_ammons, Nadiapolyakova (Rijaya83): She had thrown out the idea on a lark, but now Hermione Granger was tasked with bringing the charity calendar to life. What was one more thing on her list? An art/writing collaboration between nadiapolyakova and anne_ammons - twelve photos and a piece of the story behind them. M, WIP

Cherry Mint by dirtymudblood: "He could smell her. Even multiple train cars away, he could smell her. Except, Draco didn’t know who she was. He ignored his natural instincts to pant like a dog and follow the scent to the omega in the beginning stages of heat. Instead he willed himself to rub his knuckles against the rough wood of the table in front of him." E, 27 Chapters, 58,081 Words

Dark Water and Dying Eyebrights by bexchan: One of them is desperately trying to remember their past while the other is forever trying to escape theirs. It's seven years after the war and Draco has managed to avoid almost everyone from Hogwarts, living a lonely life on a small island, far away from the wizarding community. But a familiar face in a cafe window capsizes his world into chaos. Dramione. EWE. Memory fic. M, WIP

Difficult by provocative envy: COMPLETE: "I should," I repeated. "But I don't want to." And then he smiled, and I was wrecked. HG/DM. M, 30 Chapters, 87,041 Words

Don't Look Back by Onyx_and_Elm: It’s the smell of it. Chemical. Bitter and sharp as a raw edge on metal. Just a hint of it as she passes him at breakfast — but enough to stop her dead, mid-step. There is Wolfsbane in his tea. E, WIP

Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time by monsterleadmehome: She scoffs. “If you must know, he ‘elected’ me because he thinks our shared animosity will keep you in check. He’s also not worried about you trying to shag me as a distraction.” He leans back, stubbing out his cigarette on the banister. His eyes rove over her from crown to toe and back. She lifts her chin and tries not to shiver. “Well, he’s right about that.” Lucius Malfoy hires Hermione Granger to whip his son into shape so he can find a pure-blood bride and receive his inheritance. What could go wrong? E, 10 Chapters, 48,092 Words

Draco's Gift by TriDogMom: Draco gives Hermione a gift because of an instructional YouTube video. M, 1 Chapter, 1,705 Words

Dragon in the Dark by GracefulLioness: The battle is won, Voldemort is dead, but the war is far from over. In the new Death Eater regime, Draco Malfoy does what he must to survive and keep his mother safe. Now a highly trained assassin, Draco has learned to think of his targets as inhuman beings, but when he is tasked with killing someone from his past, he can no longer hide from the horrors of the world around him. E, 31 Chapters, 164,782 Words

For a Present Under the Tree by grace_lou_freebush: When Draco and Hermione eloped, the Wizarding World turned against them. Hermione is stuck in a low level, low paying Ministry job with no hope of upward movement. Draco can't even convince someone to hire him. Now, it's Christmas, and Draco knows Hermione deserves the world - or at the least a Christmas gift. He finds the perfect hair comb to replace the horrid Muggle brush she's been making due with, and he'll do anything to afford the paltry present so he can have something to put under the Christmas tree for his wife. Making a beeline for the jewelry box containing the hair combs, Draco rifled through them, landing on an ivory comb with queen anne rose carvings and gold filigree detailing. He brought it to the startled shopkeeper and set it down gently. Pulling his sixth generation Malfoy heirloom pocket watch from his coat, he shoved it in the wizard's face without second guessing himself. "I would like to make an exchange." E, 1 Chapter, 10,141 Words

Fortuitous by MrsRen: Recently divorced Draco doesn't believe in the ideology of having one true love. He certainly doesn't expect to meet his match in a Halloween themed coffee shop, but fate has a peculiar way of giving you just what you need. M, 13 Chapters, 93,695 Words

Fuck, Marry, Avada by Lilian_Silver: Some years after the war, the gang meets up at the Leaky to play a silly game, with very real consequences. E, 1 Chapter, 3,106 Words

Give Me An Hour by RZZMG: As the war continues to rage on around them, Hermione Granger decides to seduce fellow Order Member, Draco Malfoy, one night while at Grimmauld Place... and everything between them changes after that. Fic follows the "five times" trope, and is dedicated to raspberryjukebox. One-shot. A/U-Extended War scenario. Dramione. Drama-Romance-Hot Shag! COMPLETE! M, 1 Chapter, 3,251 Words

Good Girl by arabellaleyes: Hermione is tired of their normal routine in the bedroom. What will happen when she asks Draco to spice things up? One-shot. Complete. M, 1 Chapter, 9,000 Words

Hindsight by floorcoaster: It's a New Year and Hermione decides it's time to make some changes. T, 12 Chapters, 167,694 Words

How to Love Thy Neighbour by WhatSoMalfoy: After her relationship with Ron falls apart, Hermione attempts to juggle a personal muggle life with a professional wizarding one. After encountering her high school nemesis in the most unlikely place, Hermione adds another ball to the juggling mix. M, 14 Chapters, 41,992 Words

How to Move On by longdistance: It's been nearly a decade since the war. A long time since she locked herself away. A long time since he faced his mistakes. She's what he wants. He's what she needs. It's time for both of them to figure out how to move on. M, WIP

Hydrotherapy by eilonwy: Draco finds a trip to the showers after playing Quidditch... enlightening. E, 2 Chapters, 7,163 Words

I Choose You by melanoradrood: At the end of Fifth Year, Hermione finds out why It is that none have approached her with a Marital Contract, the only way she can remain in the Wizarding World after Graduation. It has already been signed by her Magical Guardian, someone she has never met - she is to be the next Lady Malfoy. A year and a half later, she is a married witch, but still, Draco Malfoy, who had chosen her above all others, had not spoken of it. In fact, they barely spoke at all. And when trouble heads their way, Hermione means to change that. Really, she means to change a lot of things. E, 5 Chapters, 24,527 Words

Isolation by Bex-chan: He can't leave the room. Her room. And it's all the Order's fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something's going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. "There," she spat. "Now your Blood's filthy too!" DM/HG. PostHBP. Now complete with epilogue. M, 49 Chapters, 284,050 Words

It Happened in Egypt by bionically: Wandless in Egypt: Draco's stranded in Egypt, but luckily, there's a Granger in sight. Now, if only he could be prevented from strangling her. Fun times abroad: It was supposed to be a leisurely solo trip down the Nile. Hermione didn't factor in one blond man from her past and all his drama. Then, of course, there's the fact that everyone's after him. Much hilarity ensues. Maybe. *** A rom-com adventure/mystery featuring two unwilling partners on the run from Lucius Malfoy, alien-hunters, Muggle police, and local wizards engaged in a civil war. T, WIP

Love and Other Misfortunes by senlinyu: Draco Malfoy is dying. He's part-Veela and needs his mate to survive. Post-war, Hermione Granger is a workaholic, up to her eyeballs in legal activism on behalf of Magical Beings, and hasn't yet noticed that Malfoy is the Magical Being who needs her most. “Because I don’t want to be saved by you just because you feel like you have to.” He was properly furious now. “I’m in love with you." Hermione stared at him. She knew but somehow hearing him say it made the air shimmer with magic. "I’m in love with you,” he said again, despairingly. “And that means I want you to be as happy as you possibly can. And you won’t be, not with me.” M, 23 Chapters, 98,584 Words 

Manacled by senlinyu: Harry Potter is dead. In the aftermath of the war, in order to strengthen the might of the magical world, Voldemort enacts a repopulation effort. Hermione Granger has an Order secret, lost but hidden in her mind, so she is sent as an enslaved surrogate to the High Reeve until her mind can be cracked.Now illustrated by Avendell. E, 77 Chapters, 370,473 Words

Measure Of A Man by inadaze22: To truly know someone is to differentiate between who they once were, who they are now, and who they're capable of being. Hermione realises the duality of one man as she rectifies what she knows of the past and begins to understand the pieces of who Draco Malfoy is now: a father, a son, and a man. E, WIP

Meet the Malfoys by raven_maiden: 4 Works, 21, 442 Words

of flavoured names and coloured sounds by Pink Panda (Ejacyeolation): "He doesn’t question it at first, the fact that sounds have colours and words have flavours. He grows up with it, grows up seeing powerful ruptures of colour when his mother plays the piano and softer, translucent bursts when the people around him speak. His father’s voice fills his vision with sombre oranges and lilacs while his mother’s is a pleasant mix of delicate greens, blues, and greys. The word father tastes like wet wood and the word mother tastes like the pumpkin juice the house-elves frequently serve him."In which Draco just wants to know what colour Hermione's moans would be. He also wants to know if her skin would taste as sweet as her surname or maybe as intoxicating as her given name. E, 2 Chapters, 10,351

Once Upon a Night by longdistance: One night will change everything. M, 17 Chapters, 57,444 Words

One and Done by PacificRimbaud: Hermione Granger has a career she loves, friends she can depend on, and a nice set of hand towels for her new flat. She's single and tired of tiresome men, but that doesn't stop her from wearing beautiful lingerie underneath her serious Ministry skirts. Or having pictures taken in naughty knickers. Just once. For herself. Draco Malfoy doesn't get upset at the sight of blood, which is good, because he sees a lot of it. What he doesn't see a lot of is Hermione Granger in her unmentionables. Usually. A series of meetings and mix-ups in which one cannot possibly mean done. E, 4 Chapters, 35,011 Words

Our shared silence by Vofastudum: She wakes up one morning and everyone is just gone, vanished like they never existed at all. Everyone but Him. And in this silent solitude, he's all she has. Hermione and Draco alone in empty castle. Mystery and a plot twist you didn't see coming! EDITED 10/2020 M, 17 Chapters, 40,149 Words

Pinned by bionically: Draco doesn't know what he's expecting when he follows Blaise down a dark alley, but it certainly isn't this. For a man with an addictive personality, this isn't going to turn out well. Assigned trope: Voyeurism *** Or, a chance encounter with a frizzy-haired witch from his misbegotten past in the last place anyone should have expected to see her sets Draco's disordered life on its ear. The path to redemption is truly paved with unexpected surprises. E, 20 Chapters, 110,886 Words

Really Sell It by RoseHarperMaxwell: Draco's having a rough eighth year, and Hermione's going to make it better for him. "Well, it’s clear what needs to happen.” She gripped his chin, tilting his head to make sure she hadn’t missed any injuries, before looking straight into his eyes. “You’re my boyfriend now.” *Featuring fake dating, exhibitionism, and sex-positive Hermione Granger. Submission for Farewell to Summer: The 31 Flavors of Smut Fest. E, 1 Chapters, 7,612 Words

Remain Nameless by HeyJude19: How did it feel? It felt like he was barely holding it together. She, of all people, should shun him. Or yell at him. Curse him. Spit at him. Take out her wand and blast him off the face of the earth. It was crushing guilt and relief and confusion all at once when he looked at Hermione Granger. The monotony of Draco’s daily routine had become both a lifeline and a noose. But this new habit of grabbing coffee with Hermione Granger is quickly becoming a reason to get out of bed and is unfortunately forcing him to re-evaluate his inconsequential existence. Hermione is living her life in fragments, separate pieces scattered about, and she can’t find a way to step back and let the full picture form. Why are morning meetings with Draco Malfoy the only thing that make sense anymore? E, 51 Chapters, 312,315 Words

Remember Us As War (but call us forgiveness) by Anyaparadox: Following the devastation of the Battle of Hogwarts, The Wizarding Population Growth Act is put into effect. All witches and wizards will be matched with their most compatible partner. Failure to comply will not be tolerated. Survival is key. Hermione reminds herself of this. Survival. She can fix this, if only she can survive. The war has made this a task she is equipped for. Marrying Draco Malfoy will hardly be the worst thing she's ever endured. M, WIP

Ring A Ring O' Roses by Gallivant: Dark Magic, Dark Wizards and a mysterious and deadly Dark Flux, which, in the wrong hands, has the terrifying potential to mass-murder Muggles and Muggle-borns ... It’s been fourteen years since the end of the Second Wizarding War and the Wizarding World is settled, stable and seemingly safe… Hermione Weasley has it all: a loving family, a successful career - and happiness… of sorts. But a series of unexpected events is about to turn her life upside-down, threatening those she loves, fatally undermining the peace between worlds that has prevailed for centuries … changing life as she knows it, possibly forever. If working with Draco Malfoy was the last thing Hermione Weasley ever wanted, falling for your enemy was the least expected. A quest to thwart a magical weapon of mass destruction has devastating consequences. A race to save the world, becomes a race to save themselves… M, 65 Chapters, 527,141 Chapters

Set Fire to the Rain by HarleyQuinn1317: What happens when the one you're destined for is the last person you should ever be with... When the Ministry of Magic asks for volunteers for their Marriage Initiative, Hermione Granger must come to terms with the one terrible deed she committed during the Second Wizarding War. Can she find it in her heart to forgive herself and finally learn to let love in? E, WIP

Sex and Occlumency by Graendoll: Hermione didn't escape from the war unscathed, and when she finally decides on a solution to her problems she's left to explore it on her own. A chance encounter with Draco Malfoy sets her world on it's head and leads her down a path towards healing that she would never have anticipated. E, 18 Chapters, 65,079 Words

The Art of Seating Etiquette by inadaze22: Hermione believes that every problem has a solution, and that solution can be found in a book. That is, until Draco starts sitting to her right every Friday. She has no answers until help comes in the form of an unlikely source: Ron Weasley. E, 1 Chapter, 9,734 Words

The Auction by LovesBitca8: In the wake of the Dark Lord’s triumph over Harry Potter, the defeated must learn their new place. Hermione Granger, former Golden Girl, has been captured and reduced to human chattel. Sold to the highest bidder as the top prize at an auction of Order members and sympathizers, she is thrust into the rabid, waiting hands of the Death Eaters. But despite the horrors of Voldemort’s new world, help—and hope—seem to arise from the most unlikely of places. PART 3 of the RIGHTS AND WRONGS series. E, 41 Chapters, 325,702 Words

The Binding by Curly_Kay: “Okay, what we know so far.” Hermione listed, "One, our magic is drawing us together. Two, we can use each other’s wands. Three, there were actual sparks when you touched me."After an infant binding ritual magically joins Hermione and Draco to counteract the Black family blood curse, they must navigate the secret binding through their years together at Hogwarts. E, 35 Chapters, 175,451 Words

The Carnal Club by Ada_P_Rix: COMPLETE The Halloween Ball is fast approaching with Hermione at the helm.... What a delightful time to suddenly learn of a centuries old secret sex-game club that is currently ran by a Blonde haired Slytherin. Oh, and it only happens once a year every October, when the winner takes all at the Halloween Ball ...The First Rule of Carnal Club: You do not talk about Carnal Club. E, 8 Chapters, 43,306 Words

The Disappearances of Draco Malfoy by Speechwriter (batmansymbol): The night that Harry and Dumbledore return from the cave, the Death Eaters are delayed from reaching the top of the Astronomy Tower for one more minute. Draco Malfoy lowers his wand. A Deathly Hallows rewrite in which Draco accepts Dumbledore's offer to fake his death and go into hiding with the Order of the Phoenix. T, WIP

The Erised Effect by Ada_P_Rix: Hermione and Pansy work in a shop together. Draco, Harry, Theo and Blaise all work together at the Ministry. They all meet up every Friday at the pub to have drinks. Pansy has a new fantasy potion that she likes to call 'The Erised Effect' that she's keen to try out on willing participants ... Boys are so easy to manipulate when alcohol is involved .... E, 13 Chapters, 88,852 Words

The Fallout by everythursday: Hermione learns about growing up through the redemption of Draco Malfoy. E, 49 Chapters, 310,229 Words

The Figures of Figuring Out by Vofastudum: You were the biggest riddle in my life. You were the one I couldn't figure out. You were the only thing I couldn't find a pattern to. You were something I couldn't look up from any book. Unwritten, with no instructions. And I was used to finding solutions! Post-war eight-year secret romance. Edited 12/2020 M, 13 Chapters, 26,951 Words

The Flat in Bath by Ada_P_Rix: Loosely inspired by 365 Days...-- Malfoy grabbed her chin, forcing her to look directly at him. “Don’t you dare, Granger...” He told her roughly as his intense gaze bored into her own. “I fucking forbid you to come until I’ve had enough of you...” Draco caught her cheeks now between the fingers of his free hand and then snapped her head to the side and licked her earlobe, trailing down to her jawline. “...one flutter of those delicious walls of yours and you’re going to wish you never opened your legs for me.” -- __________________ Hermione is kidnapped during a raid and taken captive by someone who doesn't plan on 'torturing' her in the conventional way... E, WIP

The Gloriana Set by ThebeMoon: The War is won, and Hermione Granger is back at Hogwarts as an “Eighth Year”, feeling reckless and determined to shed her prim bookworm persona. She will do as she pleases, and anyone who doesn’t like it will see the business end of her wand. Also returning is Draco Malfoy, universally hated but determined to restore his family’s name. Hermione’s hopes for a quiet school year are quickly dashed as she contends with mischievous First Years, killer plants, enchanted hair accessories, a totally inappropriate Moaning Myrtle, renegade Death Eaters, a nice vampire, a poorly named study group, a depraved party, and mysterious, threatening blood messages on the castle walls. We have redemption, partial redemption and (sadly or hilariously) no redemption at all. Throw in a snarky, disturbingly attractive Draco with his own secret agenda, and we have a very slow-burn Dramione with a side of who-dun-it. COMPLETE! M, 81 Chapters, 271,830 Words

The Library of Alexandria by senlinyu: The Library of Alexandria is not for just any witch or wizard. Many bookworms may try but few are permitted to pass through its doors. The books residing there are ancient and powerful and, if one happens to make a mistake, the consequences can be rather—novel. E, 6 Chapters, 26,383 Words

The List by AureliaBlack90: After her divorce, Hermione decides to get out of town to recover from the pain of her lost relationship and the miscarriage she suffered a year previously. She arrives in the Cotswolds depressed and aimless but compiles a list of things to do that she hopes will help her get back on her feet. In the midst of her journey to find healing she keeps running into Draco Malfoy, who is nothing like she remembered him. He invites her into his world, and Hermione finds exactly what she was looking for - in the place she least expected it. E, 10 Chapters, 70,526 Words

The Manuscript by alexandra_emerson: Five 1/2 years after the war, in the middle of a big fight with Draco, Hermione finds a manuscript. It’s a retelling of her and Draco’s love story, written by him. She never realized how much he was struggling before she read his words. Snippet: I could spend my whole life apologizing to you Hermione, and it would never be enough. Post-war, angst-filled Dramione with a happy ending. M, 21 Chapters, 154,918 Words

The Memory of You by PotionChemist: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger fell in love against all odds, but there was one big problem — he was already married. Pressured, Hermione does something she promised herself she would never do again and erases their affair from his memory. Completely devastated, she avoids seeing Draco or the Malfoys at all costs. But is their love too strong? Are they inevitable? What will happen if he finds out about their previous relationship? E, WIP

The Mountain and The Sea by AlexisDanaan: Hermione Granger was perfectly happy with her life, her job as a Healer Trainee, her ugly cat and her cute little house in the countryside. And then Draco Malfoy had to go and mess that all up, typical git. Post-Hogwarts, EWE, OOC, creature!fic. E, 12 Chapters, 40,441 Words

The Nietzsche Classes by Beringae: The Ministry takes action against the remaining prejudice in the wizarding society and asks Hermione for help. “What do you want? Money? Power? Name your price, Granger. I’m not about to let pride get in my way when an Azkaban sentence is on the line.” M, 15 Chapters, 45,807 Words

The Phoenix Potion by FedonCiadale: Twenty years after the battle of Hogwarts.... Harry is head auror and is worried about cases where Muggleborn children meet with accidents, Ron is a famous Quidditch keeper. Both haven't talked to Hermione for ages and certainly not to her husband, Draco Malfoy. Narcissa Malfoy struggles with a curse, and Neville and Luna try to stay friends with all. The key to solving the problems may lie in the past, a time nobody really wants to revisit and some can't. T, 111 Chapters, 237,745 Words

The Potioneers by omnenomnom: They need each other unfortunately. Hermione has tricked Draco under her tutelage, arrogant attitude and all. But she would be simple to think he would accept it quietly. They have both have secrets to hide, old wounds better left to fester, and a world full of mermaids, dragons, and magic to explore. T, 53 Chapters, 196,559 Words

The Pretense by Colubrina: Voldemort died, but the Death Eaters live on. Hermione Granger traded herself to Draco Malfoy in exchange for safe passage for core Order members. Now he's pretending to love her, Narcissa is pretending to believe that, and Hermione is walking a tightrope behind enemy lines as she figures out what is going on. Unfortunately, people fall off tightropes. (no non-con) T, 50 Chapters, 108,164 Words

The Right Thing To Do by LovesBitca8: Hermione felt the pounding in her ears again. She would see him for the first time since the Great Hall, gaunt and stricken at the Slytherin table with his mother clutching his arm. She hadn't meant to look for him. Not in the corridors, not beneath the white sheets of the fallen, not on the way to the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, but she was a stupid girl. E, 36 Chapters, 174,911 Words

The Seven Year Witch by TheLastLynx: A boy and a girl have been meeting – coincidentally – for seven summers. While they pretty much hate one another most of the year, for those secret summer moments, they manage to see each other in a different light. But will that be enough to bring them together? A Dramione story about growing up and changing perspective, told along - and in-between - the lines of canon. M, WIP

Thirty Times Lucky by galfoy: "Granger, I can't hire you on any longer," Draco said. Hermione stared at him. Losing her job might actually mean losing the War, and she had to bargain, but there was literally nothing she had that he would want. Or was there? M, 2 Chapters, 7,128 Words

Traditions by raven_maiden: She straddled him slowly, still biting her lip, her hands on his shoulders. He held her hips tightly as he stared up at her. “So beautiful,” he whispered, and she flushed prettily, like she always did from his compliments. “You never need to hide from me.” ** Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy fell in love during the war. One year later, they're heading home for the holidays so he can finally meet her parents. There's just one teeny little problem: her parents think they're both Muggles. E, 14 Chapters, 68,767 Words

Waifs and Strays by Kyonomiko: War leaves a lot of orphans in its wake. Hermione is one, by her own hand, and she struggles with the realities of her situation. When she finds an orphaned familiar, it seems meant to be, giving and receiving comfort helping to heal her fractured heart. Unfortunately, the animal is actually a wizard, and he has his own issues. M, 31 Chapters, 118,152 Words

What You Think Is Right by icepower55: Six years after the war, Hermione parents are dying and her marriage to Draco is crumbling. Nothing seems logical in her life anymore. Her healer tells her to start writing about it, so she does, as a way to figure things out, and remind herself along the way. Hell is proximity without intimacy -Dante's Inferno M, WIP

When the Bell Tolls by everythursday: As a Dark revival begins to rise four years after the war, Hermione Granger is placed on the assignment of putting an end to them – and her first task is to recruit the Ministry's best hope and last option in the form of Draco Malfoy. E, 20 Chapters, 148,033 Words

Wreck by JMilz: Serving as Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger is finally at the peak of her career. With a beautiful family, a successful book, and the public on her side, her life should be a fairytale. Unfortunately, there is trouble in paradise, and when Draco Malfoy pays her a visit, she begins recalling their history and questioning her marriage. The reality is: every relationship is hard. M, 53 Chapters, 187,992 Words

Thanks to every person who contributed (I hope I've mentioned everyone. If not, let me know. 😊): @certified-arsehole @fedonciadale kiwim22 @really-sad-devil-guy endless-musings @headfullofnargles @pinksunsets-world @rosseliz01 @dramioneden @all-consuming @elricsister @injailoutsoon12 reclusivebird @mariakov81 @notthatchhavi @mordanbooqs @haaatch @hpsassenach @ybaeby @farmgirl-in @coyg-81 @eiramrelyat metterschling-plus-two @a-maidens-fantasy @sansacat @vofastudum @lexayeon @1800-rewrite @aneiria-writes @anonymouslydramione 

It took much longer to compile this list than I thought it would. Hopefully, I didn’t skip anything. 🙈

Happy New Year. May it be better than the previous one and full of great Dramione fics and fanarts! 🥳🥳🥳

And here’s the 2019 list: https://dramioneficrecommendations.tumblr.com/post/190216354767/what-is-the-best-dramione-fic-you-read-in-2019

[mintffxiv]

My thoughts on FFXVI - Full Game Spoilers

Ranking 7.5/10

As I only completed it a couple of hours ago some thoughts might change with time and if there are DLC's or other information after time has passed. My thoughts are also emotionally charged and sporadically disjointed but I will try to keep on point. Speaking of points I'm going to bullet point each thought to try and not ramble as I always do so I can get personal catharsis from writing my feelings out. So this is definitely also a release post because I need to get my feelings out.

Also has Encanto spoilers but I've pointed out where but just to add prior so it can be easily avoided.

The first thing I did after completing the game during the credits was check Google which of course took me to Reddit. This,

was the first post I saw and I've been reading and mulling over it since.

From that post and other comments I did feel some relief that Clive is alive. And for me and thankfully others that Joshua and Dion are alive.

I don't think Clive wrote the book, I think it was Joshua. Even though Tomes gave Clive his quill he also said that Joshua was also quite the historian or something like that. Now I could be misremembering but even so I don't think it's Clive who wrote it.

And speaking on that, I don't like seeing the far off future. I always feel sad when magic is gone because it's so important for this type of fantasy style. I get that it's powerful but the world looses it's spark for me. Like recently I watched Encanto with my friends. Avoid this next part of text if you don't want Encanto spoilers.

Encanto Spoilers start:

Like at the end I was so happy they all kept their magic. I mostly always dislike it when stories lose their magic because that's what made them special. That's what symbolised their strengths in a fancy and literally magical way.

Encanto Spoilers end.

I know it's Squares route to always say yadda yadda humans are magical without magic but they spend their whole damn games with magic as a core standard. I know 16 is different to an extent but it feels like overkill and almost making it too Earth-like. Like I myself am not a stable person so I need these stories to boost me up, so coming back down this way doesn't feel complete or good for me. I think it would have been better if maybe dominants wouldn't be possible anymore or just that simply the blight would stop from the aether being sucked from the land and that everyone would have the chance to use magic. Like magic wasn't the problem it was the abuse of magic so getting rid of it feels too drastic and even too easy. Like Ultima made humanity here, so they are magical beings. The flaw if any is that not all humans can use magic so ideally breaking the original crystal would restore balance to the planet. I'm sure the curse would still be present in a way of overuse but that's what happens to anything with overuse. If you exercise too much you're at risk of damaging your body from pushing too hard etc and as it's balanced now the blight would stop spreading and eventually the land would recover especially with the new survival techniques born from The Hideaway.

I get symbolism is present in all Final Fantasy games, but when it comes at a cost of clear closure it's a problem. I was finally feeling relieved that this game had clear intentions. Such as yes the people have sex lol. Yes they swear. Yes they bleed. But suddenly at the end we aren't given that? 15 really did a number on me and not just because of the ending it was a lot of issues I had so I was tentative with this but as I trust the XIV team and as I was going through the story I was starting to believe in a clear triumphant victory. But no it's just vague to be... I dunno why. Like after all the uncertainty in the game having a clear happy ending would have been so so good and appreciated. I don't feel the catharsis I needed and I expected. Even with the hope and logical thoughts that Clive and co are alive I don't feel closure and it really hurts so bad. And yes I do get heavily invested but that's just my way for many personal reasons but even so I've seen a lot of others feel the same way so that is something at least.

At least they didn't kill Torgal. However I wish he had more of a stronger role. He was our soul mate. I understand how he couldn't get on Bahamut's back but I dunno maybe he could have howled and restored Clive's health during a part of the fight, like how our friends voices cheered us on. And their first meeting was lackluster. Especially after we see how tireless Torgal was collecting Clive's things. There are a lot of jarring disconnects at times which sucks considering a lot of things are said to connect characters and events. A few lines here or there would go a long way.

Continuing on that thought, I was really expecting and then hoping for past scenes and gameplay of the brothers childhood but they had to just jam the knife in at the end. Like it just hurts, really hurts and I hate that. I was also expecting and hoping for politics but that all ends at Phoenix Gate. Like the disappointment when we get to the city of Sanbreque and the brothel only to not explore it but then move fast on rails away from it and never to step once in its city properly. Like that grand palace hello!? I was expecting some sort of masquerade stuff infiltration and seeing our mother there only she doesn't know it's us. But nope they just go off to Twinside but then we can't even explore there and then it gets flown up into the sky like? We're only stuck in the hideaway that we can't edit which would have been really cool and when we're not we're stuck in very similar landscapes outside which are pretty but it really makes the world feel small. Especially that the blight has already limited our exploration having the cities we have being taken away from us really sucks. And Barnabas! I was hoping he'd invite us for a grand dinner and during it we'd get drugged and hallucinate because he's aiding Ultima to easily take possession and then it'd switch to Joshua and we'd play as him going with Jill and Gav to infiltrate the castle and rescue Clive. Going further into my fantasy lol, imagine after recovery which would maybe take some time with Joshua reminding Clive of who he is with flashback game scenes, and maybe even after Clive comes back they end up recruiting Barnabas but I know that's definitely a stretch haha! The point is I felt we weren't given the full tour of the world and I know all Final Fantasy games are lineal but this was very on rails only stopping for side quests and with me personally running around to listen to updated voice commentary on what NPC's had to say which was cool but also distracting and long but I didn't mind especially at the time because I was enjoying figuring out the world.

Too many side characters. I really did like the lore account and information for each NPC big or small but at some point some characters really should have been one instead of two. Example Gaute and the woman next to him (I've forgotten her name and cba to look) who gives us appreciation points, should have been one person. It would also give more chances to have a stronger character we could get to know more and bond with.

Along with that was the bond and war table really necessary? I appreciated it at the time and I do still appreciate the effort but this energy could have been used for making the ending not unnecessarily vague or having all the characters voice lined and not being randomly non voiced. Like I thought my game had a bug before I realised it was doing that style for those parts but it was really confusing and not expected!

On reflection I don't think Metaia disappeared or died, I think it went to tell the moon the wish to be granted and will be back again. But if not I think it definitely went to tell the moon which also symbolises a power higher than what Ultima wanted us to believe. I think it also shows when Clive senses and partially sees his dad at his grave showing bonds and life beyond death which is extremely comforting and valid.

It would be great to learn on Leviathan properly. I know it was destroyed but perhaps there still in a defendant. Some have said it could be the baby in Edda or even Gav who is unaware. I think it's probably a whole other character we might meet in DLC however it'll be something to see how to manage that post world without magic or they do an alternative timeline or even go back in the past though that would also be sad because we know they are 'lost'.

I feel they killed off big characters too quickly which made the passing off. I knew Cid would die from his constant coughing blood and also because he's 'old'. Most characters die if they're old in these games or they are full side NPC's that half their character is being the old person. Also because he's too powerful of a character and they need Clive to take the reigns but it would have been really cool if Cid was still alive and we helped him recover, it would have been cool to have quests for him. Benedikta too, I feel like we didn't get enough of her. She drove a lot of the story well and then was cut out. I feel like they were inspired clearly by GoT but as it went on went back to final fantasy style which had a clash of styles hence the vague ending which most likely would have not been so stark if the full game was that style.

Oh and Jill. Along again with the wish that characters had more character Jill is one. I like Jill she is just above the line of being a basic boring pretty love interest. With Ice unfeeling it would have been great to have Clive melt her icy heart and in doing so she would cool his fiery anger. And I feel Clive didn't get angry enough. Like her whole story part was once again on rails, I feel like we got more emotion and character from Dory's side story because we got to read and somewhat experience this horror. We never one on one talk to Jill about our experiences and she hers to us. And on that I really thought we'd start the game from Clive being imprisoned and branded. We really missed out on a lot of lore building that really would have elevated the driving force of characters.

The bar was stupid and a waste of time. This would have been a great moment to be able to de-stress with the cast and get to know them more. Ben Starr Clive's voice said Clive was funny at least to him so I was expecting more funny and light hearted scenes but it's note like moments and it's not super funny or even cheeky just aha yeah. I wish we got the chance to learn about Clive. The whole game is about revenge to getting the choice to live and throughout that Clive is only that. What does he like to eat or not eat like Joshua and his carrots, does he like music, what does he want to do in life aside from this grand dream. We never get full bonding and comfort moments with the brothers, only a small part that ends in the space of a brief punch.

Our mother's death was disappointing. I think because the reunion was so quick and sudden. I was thinking she had more play in the story and also her bloodline thing makes no sense it's our dads bloodline not hers unless there's some unspoken fucked up GoTs shit going on lol. I was hoping when getting the eikons she'd realise that not only was we strong but far stronger than anyone and try to manipulate us to get a piece of our glory only to fall from grace from rejection just like she had rejected us all these years. Death of a character doesn't always have to be actual death but social death would be amazing. The disgraced Ana groveling to her son's would have been so so damn delicious. But naaa she just cuts her throat. As I said I was expecting and now wished for more political gameplay. Even giving us choices of how to approach a crystal would have been cool planning it, giving Vivian's map a really cool play. And having our Uncle help us with politics.

Like with Torgal I wish we got more chances of love with him and Ambrosia. They stayed loyal all this time and Clive doesn't even get the option to pet her.

I wish we got more clothes and not just us but the cast. We go to the desert in our leather clothes. The only person who ages is us and that's getting slightly more hairy lol like Jill looks the same. I thought the side quest for fabric would get her a new dress but nope.

I'm getting a bit fatigued now but I'll try to finish my thoughts. I gave this a 7.5/10 because of the ending. -2 for Clive and Joshua and 1.5 for Dion because although I want him alive I can understand if he did in fact die though the hope of him seeing with his flower and reuniting with Terrence and maybe even adopting the girl would be really comforting.

I think the only way I could fully be at peace is if DLC not only gave closure and a true happy ending but more loose ends tied up and a look to a fresh bright world not some future book with random people. After all the world isn't as important without the people in it and even more the people we know make it what it is. That's even what Clive said to Ultima that his bonds made him stronger, that because of love for others than himself he was able to beat him.

It's a shame, I was seriously contemplating getting platinum but now I don't want to even look at the screenshots I took and I want to delete them which I might later.

But yeah I do hope for clarity. Clive and Joshua and Dion deserve it. They deserve the world they fought for.

As for now I'm trying to recover, even if it was the ending I wanted and expected finishing a game is always bittersweet. I've been crying and felt shit so writing this helped a little to get it at least off my chest.

🗒️Notes: As usual there might be spelling and grammar mistakes. I might add more thoughts later. These are my thoughts and opinions which rely heavily on my strong emotions. I get extremely attached to games and things for personal reasons so my thoughts might come as even more personal because I take it too heart which is just my way I try to get past that but it's hard so I don't want to force myself. Anyway I'm nodding off now as I took meds for a headache lol so yeah. At least I don't have to worry about spoilers which was stressing me not stop whilst playing which made me anxious to complete it.

Also I wanted to make this short but as always it's long but yeah. I wonder if anyone read all this lol either way I got it out so I don't have to keep talking back and forth to myself as hard as I was. But if you did and even more so agree that means a lot because I'm a fragile person and I know I'm weird or I just don't manage things well so when I see people agree or I see others have my similar thoughts it helps. Anyway sleep now, I've been yapping for 2-3 hours.

New additions

I do like Clive and Jill together and how they were mostly portrayed. Same as most of the relationships but I just wanted more. I know they are busy with the plan and also have to be to defeat Ultima in time but they even said at the end Ultima would wait lol so totally could have time before then or before Clive was ready. I feel it was done well for a FF game and in general Japanese RPG games but the bar isn't very high so can't really compare. Anyway more talking moments would have been top.