List Of Stories, Headcanons And Meta (or How I Mostly Write About Fluff)

06

Society is an oyster with lips of ignorance settled tight.

05

Midnight tendrils leave frost in their uneartly wake.

It’s so difficult finding good fics, this is great

List of Fave HP Fanfics

These are all on Fanfiction.net

Keeping Appearances by TheEscapeFromReality

Don’t Touch My Mudblood by SkySloane

Neko and Seek by Golden Dragon Girl

The Challenge of being a Veela’s Mate by Triola

Crossroads by jade-requiem

Emerald Twilight by RestartingInsanity

There Be Dragons, Harry by Scioneeris

Cauchemar Vampire by Golder Dragon Girl

Strange Connections by CrimsonSnowflake

Arcane Academy by ame3565

Wizards, Elves, Mates, Oh my! by kitmistress

Little Brother by hyper active pixie

Kissing You by DrarryTLA

Paralyzed by SasunaruTLA

Being a Veela’s Mate by Chereche

Little One by hyper active pixie

Kissing You by SanunaruTLA

Cat Nip by Because I Can

Arms of A Dark Angel by Snapegirlkmf

The Silent Killer by She Who Cannot Be Turned

Between A Tiger and A Stag by Copper Vixen 

A Panther’s Heart by Copper Vixen

07

Black leaves crumble under guarded claws; bright eyes gaze benevolently.

You feel your soul warm immediately, you feel loved. You feel at home.

No.

You refuse to call this prison your home.

Those kind eyes swell with knowing pity.

She knows. But so do you.

Your rebel act will rot you from within.

Slowly.

Till only a husk remain, another toy, another trophy, left alone, left discarded.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇ,

sᴏ ᴡʜʏ ғɪɢʜᴛ ɪᴛ?

̶W̶̶h̶̶y̶ ̶f̶̶i̶̶g̶̶h̶̶t̶ ̶M̶̶e̶̶?̶

08

Although they had no breath they were shallow, pained. Forced to exist between life and death, never to live never to die.

Acceptance was theirs to control.

Acceptance was their only relief.

Acceptance was their freedom, chains.

Acceptance was their order.

To disobey led only to pain. An eternal punishment, the pain of death. To be taunted with the very thing so many of them yearned. Kept on the edge; can see but can't touch.

Cuͬtͣeͯ.

01

The void beckons to the faulted.

09

The Messengers pad through scorched fields, their targets in their view. They, unlike the Shepherd, do not pity the husks nor their stories, they do as told.

Their masks merely accessories to the red beauty, made to contain themselves. Their faces fragile beauty.

Their targets, often unconscious, always receive : you cannot escape from what makes you. They become unaware of the process, shielded from the pain. A mercy.

Over time they begin to forget, it is of no worries, they do not need to remember.

It is easier when they forget.

...

The Messengers return home once the job is done, there is nothing for them there.

02

The gentle mind shrivels under the glare of purity.

Golden eyed and juvenile, advicor to the missing and tragic.

Not all his creations are fearsome.

04

They watch with questionable wisdom from the dark premises of the sins of mankind.