Melarue



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  1. Public Bookmark 9

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    Ajax serves Zhongli his heart, bare and bleeding, on a silver platter;
    Childe fights the Traveller in a bitter struggle to prove himself; and
    Tartaglia watches his lover surrender his golden core to la Signora.

    Yeah, so what if he was used as nothing more than a honeypot? Big deal. Harbingers like him were not meant to receive any affection anyway. Just a means to an end, right?

    So why does it feel like there is a hole in his stomach? Why does it feel like something has been taken out of him? What must he do to ever feel normal again?

    The Abyss offers an easy answer: power. To become stronger, faster, deadlier. To wield in one's hands raw, crackling elemental energy. To finally be the taker and not the giver. To seize, mercilessly, and not face any consequence.

    Or, rather, just a *small* consequence.

    He finds it a pretty good deal.

    (aka Childe falls in love and gets crazy heartbroken after Osial and makes 'getting stronger' even more of a life goal than it already is. even beyond the limits of his life, actually. Zhongli gets crazy angry when he learns about this and tries to save Childe. And you, the readers, get crazy good (i hope?) angst.)

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    11 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 45

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    The words make Qifrey flinch. If Olruggio focuses, he can remember him saying—
     
    You always do this.

    You always hurt me.

    Oh, but Olruggio does not care. This man he loves, this silly man, so stubborn in his strange selflessness he is unable to see, is all Olruggio— is all Olruggio is. Were it possible, he would bury himself within his open ribs, and curl up there and never move again. His heart aches and his eyes water.

     

    Or. Olruggio and Qifrey are stuck in a snowstorm, and Olruggio doesn't know why.

    Qifrey is hurt.

    What Olruggio does know, is how to fix it.

    (It's not the first time he has to burn someone's wound shut.)

    Language:
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    11 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 9

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    At twenty-four, Harry Potter has everything he was told he wanted: the wealth of two ancient houses, a record-breaking career as an Auror, and a face that sells every magazine in the Wizarding World. But inside the pristine walls of Grimmauld Place, the silence is a physical weight, and the "Savior" is drowning in a void of his own making.

    When a black magic syndicate leads him undercover to the rain-slicked streets of Paris, Harry finally feels awake for the first time in years. He expected a fight. He expected danger. He did not expect to wake up on a trauma table staring into the stormy grey eyes of a ghost.

    Draco Malfoy was supposed to be a memory of the war—disgraced, defeated, and exiled. Now, he is a man who choicefully lives in a drafty flat and spends his nights mending what others break. Draco has spent five years scrubbing the blood from his hands; the last thing he needs is Harry Potter bleeding out in his trauma ward, demanding a reckoning for a past Draco has tried so hard to bury.

    Harry came to Paris to dismantle a syndicate. He didn't realize the most broken thing in the city was the man currently keeping him alive.

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    6/?
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    08 Jun 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 50

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    Qifrey knows better than to pretend no feelings exist between himself and Olruggio, but to accept them is another matter entirely. With his heart in his throat, Qifrey has done away with every confession Olly’s offered, meticulously intermixing them with his secret and erasing everything over and over. But then, of course, he’s bound to make mistakes sometimes—and should Qifrey find himself suddenly stuck, the consequences may just be enough to ruin him.

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    50
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    03 Jun 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “You know,” Olruggio says, roughly. He doesn’t move to take Qifrey’s hand again. “You know. You can’t not know, Qifrey.”

    Qifrey just looks at him. “I do.”

    The rain continues falling.

    (And so Olruggio forgets. And he inevitably figures it out again, because of course he does; and he inevitably chooses to forget again, and again, and again, because his heart is always the same. The story is always the same. Like a tale from under a silverwood tree, like a myth from the days of old, not so much tied by the constraints of the narrative so much as being narrative itself. Antigone must bury her brother. Iphigenia must be put to death. At a thousand turns, in a thousand ways, Orpheus must turn, and he must look, again, and again.

    And Olruggio forgets.)

    There is an old story about a witch and a silverwood tree.

    Language:
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    03 Jun 2026