On the eve of Harry’s thirty-fifth birthday (seventeen years, two months, twenty-nine days, four hours and seven minutes since Harry watched Lord Voldemort fall at his feet), Harry receives his soulmate timer. It has been twenty years since each one of his peers received their own soulmark timers.
Harry sat at the kitchen table, sipping his tea, when his wrist began to burn. The teacup rolled off the table, shattered on the floor, spilling sweet tea in rivulets down the table legs.
– 33.08.29.22.24.15
Harry read the numbers slowly. It was a long, negative number. Longer than average for someone his age. 33 years, 8 months, 29 days, 22 hours, 24 minutes, 15 seconds.
Harry touches the small numbers on his wrist. As he watches, the timer ticks over.
– 33.08.29.22.25.03
It has been seventeen years, two months, twenty-eight days since the Battle of Hogwarts.
Harry is thirty-four years, eleven months, and thirty days old.
Who had he met thirty-three years, eight months, twenty-nine days, and twenty two hours from now? It is custom, in their society, to be able to calculate dates and times. It’s the difference between knowing one’s soulmate and not.
Harry feels his muscles lock, his breath freeze in his lungs, his throat swell.
31st October 1981, 20:13pm.
At one year, three months, and eight hours of age, Harry Potter had met Lord Voldemort.
— — — — — —
Harry’s birthday is on a Friday. He is supposed to go into work. There are stacks of incomplete reports on his desk that he must finish. Harry does not go to work. Harry goes to his vault.
This is not the first time Harry has encountered the thought that Voldemort was his soulmate. It had been theorized, over the years. The Quibbler ran an article on it, to Hermione’s rage. Everyone had received soulmate timers. Harry and Voldemort had not.
Harry sits in Gringotts, an angry goblin dropping him off at his vault, and he looks at the hollow horcrux corpses. There is a twisted diadem. A split locket. A cracked stone. A shriveled snake carcass. A destroyed diary. A bent cup.
Harry skims his fingers over the magical artefacts. They do not call to him. They do not reach out. They are empty.
There are two horcruxes not in this pile. There is one on Harry’s forehead, a faint lightning scar, and there is a pile of ashes, long blown out in the wind, on the outskirts of Hogsmeade.
It has now been seventeen years, two months, and thirty days since Voldemort fell at the Battle of Hogwarts.
Harry does not know what has changed, but something has.
When this broke and healed you at the same time
an ending not quite attainable
jk. i’m too weak. best ending canon
some thoughts under the cut
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"You often said how excessively lavish everything is in Vere," Laurent says, "yet I find Akielon men to be similarly excessive."
Damen peers at him from his position on the bed, on his front as he cradles his head with his arms. "How so?"
Laurent picks his nails as he hums, "the statues."
Damen directs an amused gaze at Laurent's prone form by the window's ledge. Expect Laurent to nitpick everything.
Shaking his head fondly, he explains. "Multiple have been commissioned to depict Akielon men in their glory."
Laurent snorts, as sophisticated as one can be when doing something unappealing. "How predictably vain."
An amused breath passes Damen's lips before shifting himself on bed. Now, he lays on his back, gazing up at the ceiling.
Teasing, he says, "I prefer Kings' monuments showing them in their glory rather than those sly ouevres mostly hidden in unfrequented annexes."
Laurent rolls his eyes. "Of course you do. But not every art is made to have the public's eyes set on them. They contain messages that aren't easily expressed in words, so they show it instead."
Damen hums contemplatively. "No, the public aren't always the audience" he agrees, "But they're still made to be appreciated by someone nonetheless."
"Then what of the others?" Laurent asks. Damen twists his head to face Laurent, but his lover is looking out the window.
"What others?"
"The pieces that show unusual subjects unlike your glorified Kings." Damen pauses but, unnoticed, Laurent continues. "I saw you looking at one, a statue of a woman crying on her knees, in the gardens earlier. What of pieces like her?"
Licking his lips, Damen answers. "A message, as you've said. She's mourning for her husband before she was turned into a fountain by a God who heard her sorrow."
Laurent's brows rose at this. "How miserable."
Damen nods. "It is. It was commissioned to warn men of a wife's pain if they become careless with their own life."
Laurent nods in understanding, of what, Damen does not know. "And did it?"
He nods. "Some have had practiced caution since."
Laurent diverts his gaze to him, his eyes gleaming a beautiful blue from the moon's light., like water under night's glow.
"But you don't perceive it as a paragon of a mourning wife," Laurent says with a steady and firm gaze.
Damen smiles, shaking his head. "No, not really."
Exhaling, he closes his eyes. "When I looked at her weeping face. I imagined her mourning of another's death rather than her husband's," he quietly admits, "I thought of the life she could've lived and desired it to be her reason for crying. I appreciated her tears."
Laurent pushes himself away from the window and walk towards Damen, who doesn't move when he felt Laurent's shadow covering him, nor when a firm hand pressed on his chest.
Laurent drapes himself over Damen's chest, rising and falling under him.
"What's her name?"
Damen's chest expands with his inhale before he releases it, loud in the quiet of the night. "Egeria."
NOTES: excuse this since everything is rushed. But I just had to contribute something because Damen is lovely, duh.
adjcjcbehcimfbakxlf.... Chuuya in heels just saved me from an internal crisis
CHUUYA IS WEARING HEELS
CHUUYA IS WEARING HEELS
CHUUYA IS WEARING HEELS
Chuuya is wearing heels
CHUUYA IS WEARING HEELS
CHUUYA IS WEARING HEELS
These two do not hate each other! Yes, they hate each other to a degree or to an extent but most of it is superficial and an example of that is empty death threats. If they truly hated each other, Chuuya wouldn't trust Dazai to stop him every time he uses corruption and Dazai wouldn't save Chuuya every time he uses corruption. I'm not saying they're lovers, friends, or anything for that matter! But calling their relationship toxic would be an understatement and so does calling it a love-hate relationship. Their relationship is very very complicated to comprehend to someone's brain.
Do you sometimes read a fic writer’s work, and just… thank all the gods this person managed to get obsessed with the same fictional people you did?
I like how Harry sneaks a look at Tom. This better have some angsty story behind it.
the dark lord and his most loyal officer
Finally done 。゚(TヮT) I did 16 pages of these while guessing the characters' proportions, I'm so stupid for not making character sheets. Everything would be nth times easier if I did.
Oh well, they turned out great anyway.
Yasss, I can still catch up with Damenfest ٩(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)و̣̩⋆̩
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Okay, I'm rambling BUT
I think people forget that Chuuya is one of the very few people who know Dazai. Like, actually know him past his masks. That Dazai isn't the only one who can hurt Chuuya, that Chuuya can hurt Dazai just as much. Because Chuuya knows Dazai. Knows what makes him angry and what makes him act in certain ways to some extent and can understand his plans with no words sometimes
People focus on Dazai hurting Chuuya. But nobody thinks Chuuya can strike back just as hard. You really think Chuuya didn't at some point absolutely made Dazai feel like shit to the point it made his mind spin for nights? You really think Chuuya hasn't made Dazai feel guilty at least once?
I headcanon that when Chuuya is so pissed he becomes serious his words are pure poison. I headcanon that Chuuya can hurt Dazai more than anyone else could think. I headcanon that Chuuya even has said some very hurtful things to Dazai from time to time and has regretted them terribly. That there were points when Chuuya broke Dazai right back.
Soukoku are equals in ways not many would think. They are soulmates. I'm pretty sure if there's someone who could hurt Dazai for real, it isn't even Mori, but Chuuya.
I bet they struggled at some points to understand when their bickering was okay and when it actually came too far and one or both got genuinely hurt.
Chuuya keeps much to himself, so I think everyone should be absolutely terrified for the moment he actually bursts. Genuinely bursts.
wip
this is actually a collection of my scribbles, then i just decided to compile and color them.
A place where I express all my obsession through art. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST any of my works.
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