#dragoon writes

[duranian]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Okay, so… this was me trying to write a simple touch starved Jamie fic, and it ended up more intense than I was expecting. I finished this and edited it late last night so I can’t tell if it makes any sense, but I’m really proud of it.

If you like watching Jamie suffer, and some mutual hurt/comfort, give this a try!

[duranian]

I’m at fifty fics on my ao3!! I’m so happy!

I’ve posted five so far this year and I posted 23 total last year! I’m so glad I find the time to write and get invested, and I wish I had the time and energy to finish up the countless wips I’ve started over the past five years TT I love writing so much

[duranian]

im so proud of myself!! ive written 14 fics so far this year and that is like double of most past years AGHHH so happy.

[duranian]

my first beatles fic hit a hundred kudos!! sooo happy

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[duranian]

He felt dead inside. It had something to do with waking up late, and accomplishing nothing in the few hours of daylight left. Or maybe it had to do with the everlasting boredom of loneliness. 

Being content with yourself only lasted as long as you knew how to entertain yourself, which he was horrible at. 

Just simply having something to do… alone. The thought bored him today. 

It was a dreary grey day, and he hadn’t even left his room once. He could see it was so through the window. 

…That might’ve been the problem. He hadn’t had much water either, or much to eat. 

He went outside, and got a bite to eat too. That could fix it. 

He still feels off. Maybe uncomfortably full, although he didn’t eat much. 

Water was the next step. Water. Soda. Same thing. He had some soda. 

Going outside had been nice. Real moment in the day. Felt about as exciting as every other indistinguishable moment he’d had so far. 

When would someone speak to him? Would that fix things? Or would he still feel as desolate. 

It was just one of those days. One of those boring days. No adventure would fix it. 

The only thing to do is entertain oneself. Somehow.

[dragooned-speaks]

I just skipped my homework writing this. I gotta speedrun it soon. Anyways, enjoy the last post in what will probably be a while until I finish that fanart of Grian. Okay, tws.

TWs: Blind character, orphans, not much else. Pretty fluffy. Oh! Inprisoning (probably not hwat you imagine.

Also, this is my first fluff fic in a while, as I haven’t written, and it’s editted, but probably still a little cliche and cringy. Idk lol. Also, this is my OCs, as this is just an editted version of a story I wrote a while ago.

Cloud Gazer

Ophelia sighed as she looked into the sky she knew was there. Only a couple days ago, she thought the world was bright, full of joy and equality. How naive she was. Nowadays, she knew better.

“Hey.”

She turned toward the area the voice had come from.

“It’s me. You know. Violet.”

Ophelia could clearly remember Violet. Her violet eyes, the bright smile that believed everyone was good deep down, the black hair that curled more near the bottom. Even the time she attempted to dye part of her hair purple, which succeeded, leaving her with a bright purple streak in her hair for months until the dye faded.

“I remember.”

“Are you… alright?”

She could practically hear the concern dripping into Violet’s voice like an undried piece of art. She laughed, but it was dry, without humor.

“Well, this could be better. You know? I’m only going to be blind for who knows how long!”

Violet’s wince could have been heard for miles around, pained by her friend’s outburst.

“Sooo… Are you okay?”

Ophelia closed her eyes- not like it did anything. Was she okay? She remembered the shock and betrayal, stabbing and eroding her brain how it saw fit. The light, glaring into her eyes until all she could see was a painfully bright white.

“Well, I’ve been better.”

Violet sighed out of relief.

“Do you want some alone time?”

“Nah, it’s nice having you with me.”

“You do remember it is only temporary- right?”

Ophelia was quiet. Finally, she sighed.

“Well, I’m finally used to this now. So, if it does turn out to be permanent, at least I’ll be used to it.

“Hey, at least we’ll have each other. You know? Like we always do.”

Violet winced at that. Ophelia, from knowing her for so long, all these years, immediately knew something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Ophelia asked, curious and concerned for her best friend’s welfare. “Is something happening?”

Violet wished she could quite literally disappear. Why would Ophelia ask this now, when there was finally a break in the dark clouds obscuring her friend’s light?

“Well, I’m getting… adopted.”

Ophelia blinked, confused. “That’s amazing, V, and I’m really happy for you, but why is that making you upset?”

The tables seemed to have turned, Ophelia congratulating and assuring that, no, she was genuinely happy for her friend.

“But-” Violet’s voice cracked in her guilt. “T-then- I won’t be there for you.”

The truth seemed to dawn on poor Ophelia like a bucket of ice cold water.

No more whispered late night secrets? No more comforting words when she felt castigated, punished by all around her?

Why, she cried out, why would Violet, after all she’s been through, be taken away from her to who knows where? She forced a smile, but it wasn’t nearly as pretty as before.

“It’s fine, as long as you're happy.”

Before Ophelia could comprehend what happened, a warm pair of unseen arms wrapped around her, making her freeze in surprise.

“Opal, it’s fine to share your emotions, you know. They're not a burden. They’re meant to be shared, not held by one person. I’ll be here for you.”

Finally, Ophelia’s dam cracked. She cried into Violet’s shoulder, and Violet tugged her closer until they were in a proper hug.

Ophelia hugged Violet back, unwilling to say the thought lingering in both their minds: but not forever.

“Good news, girls!”

Ophelia and Violet nearly jumped out of their skin when the director of the orphanage, Dr. Clara Solace’s voice interrupted the peaceful environment.

“While you two were off being cute, you guys got adopted!”

“I know,” Violet sighed. “A nice, happy couple wants me for a daughter.”

“Yes,” said Dr. Clara. “However, the couple wants two daughters. And I told them I knew just the cute duo they would want.”

“Who?” Ophelia asked.

“Why, you two!” Clara grinned.

Almost comically, the two heads turned until two eyes met- one pair a striking violet the most dumb witted boys in the orphanage thought delicate, and another a cloudy shade of pale, unseeing blue.

“Do you know what this means, V?” Ophelia grinned- in what she thought was V’s general direction.

“I think I do, Opal,” Violet grinned right back, not yet ready to spoil the moment by telling Ophelia she was facing the wrong direction.

“I can stick you in a blanket fort dungeon!”

“I can still smack your head with a pillow!”

They stared right back at each other at the ridiculous answers.

“You want to smack my head with a pillow?” Violet questioned.

“You want to trap me in a blanket fort dungeon?” Ophelia asked right back.

Before the girls started what looked like another play fight, Dr. Clara hurried, “Girls, why don’t you go to your rooms? You should be ready for your new home by tomorrow evening!”

The girls raced up, and in that small orphanage room, many people heard squeals of laughter and the dull thud of pillows hitting what sounded like another human. The next day, however, two happy, smiling girls left the room looking like they had no clue that there was a broken blanket fort and a pillow on the floor.

Maybe the world was bright, and it just needed to be shown it could be. All that’s known is at that moment, light was shed upon the living and the dead, all happy and equal in their celebrations.