#thoughts from my grave
GRETA VAN FLEET I CANT WAIT TO SEE YOU
HOLY SHIT CHRIS KREIDER
Roles Reversed
Fred Weasley x reader
Content: angst, war themes, use of female pronouns, death, fred doesn’t die, italics indicate what the reader is thinking
wc: 300 ish
From the mind of her.
Him and her. Together again as they always were. Fuck, that hurt. What the hell was that? It was the castle, the lesser known weapon of the war. Spraying its concrete and glass over the bodies of the ones fighting and the ones lost. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Seven Weasleys, good. One her and one him. Everything was not okay. He’s still here, everything is okay. Bombarda. White sparks flew from his wand creating a barrier between her and bombarda, wordlessly. Remember to thank him when this is all over. Man, I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.
From the wand of the death eater.
Confringo.
From him and her.
The wall was crumbling. Seven Weasleys. The wall is coming down. They lock eyes. Him. He was too far, but that didn’t halt the yelling and running. Her. What would come of this war if he didn’t get to her? The only place he knew in that moment of time was her eyes. Slow motion. Looking over her shoulder. Freddie, freddie. He knew her eyes, and the last whisper of life that shot from her scream. Seven Weasleys still standing. One him, and all that was left of her. Dust plumed. Dust taunted. Dust gave way. There she was, large bricks covering her.
From the mind of him.
No.She looked like something out of a movie. Pale, bleeding, dying. Dead. He dragged her from the rubble. The fighting stopped. The ghost of what happened danced around him. Her eyebrows taught, lips drooping. Please. The eyes he just knew. Lifeless.
From his lips.
“Wake up!” Strained cries from him. “Please?” He was asking her.
The blonde woman has killed me once again
Come in With The Rain
Post Azkaban!Sirius Black x Reader
Warnings: angst train, death, this takes place after Sirius’s death. Let’s pretend it was raining when he died :,)
wc: 232
Sirius. Sirius. Sirius. Sirius. Sirius. Sirius. Sirius. His name played like a mantra in her head, over and over.
His name was the most bittersweet thing she had ever tasted. Sirius. It tasted of regret, hatred, power, love. Like the Greek translation of his name, Sirius, he was scorching, burning everything in his path leaving no trace but the embers slowly dying from the wake of his footsteps, Sirius.
She felt sparks every time she dared to utter his name. Two months since their last meeting, two months and the door was still unlocked, the plants unwatered, the foundation crumbling. He left when it was raining. In her mind, rain was synonymous with Sirius. The door unlocked every rainy day and night.
He would be there. He would come and hug her. He would, he would, he would, he wouldn’t. Not now, anyway. Not while the Veil still had him, Sirius, in its deathly clutches. Never. But, she still sat watching the door, every rainy night, door unlocked, plants unwatered, her foundation crumbling beneath the weight of sorrow and hatred.
Sirius. Sirius. Sirius.
“Where are you?” a whisper of lost time.
His name was the most bittersweet thing she had ever tasted. The only thing she could taste now was death. Sirius.
First year everyone in the entry draft is younger than me, I feel old as fuck
ADAM FOX THE GOAT !!!!
