kyosaya
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Words Not Spoken, Actions Not Done by sillyashie
Fandoms: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
07 Jul 2024
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Summary
A short story taking place between after Madoka became a god and before Homura became a witch.
Kyouko reflects on the interactions she’s had with Sayaka and what she could and should have said to change her fate.
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you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling by missiletoe
Fandoms: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
27 Aug 2024
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The stained windows are broken, light seeping in between the shards of glass but even broken, they are beautiful. Even shattered, they reflect the light.
Kyoko hangs on one such window now, the meat of her palm digging into the rough lining of the glass. She tosses her head out into the open air and hears the wind whistle by.
“Sayaka, where are you?!” she yells. “Talk to me!”
Silence is her answer.
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Precipice by ToxicPineapple for Rankaloid
Fandoms: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
02 Dec 2024
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“It’s your fault that we can’t have that, isn’t it? I’m not the one who threw the first punch back then.”
That was different. Kyouko was different—it is largely on Sayaka’s behalf that she is different now. She swallows back the words because somewhere, intrinsically, she knows that begging won’t help. Crying won’t help.
Besides, it’s never been in her nature to beg or plead.
“Can’t I at least offer you some company?” Kyouko tries. “You don’t have to—”
“Don’t I?” Sayaka glances over her shoulder. Kyouko finally gets her first glimpse of the other girl’s eyes; pale and emotionless, as they always seem to be, at this point in the sequence. “You know how this ends, Sakura.”
“Call me Kyouko,” Kyouko croaks.
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Kyouko has a reoccurring nightmare where she loses Miki Sayaka.
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there are dead bodies under the cherry trees (how else could they flower that beautifully?) by missiletoe
Fandoms: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
23 Dec 2024
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And she always hated that story, laughed, even, at the ridiculousness of it all.
“Why did she turn around?” she asked on her father’s lap, fingers small enough to trace the words, the colors on the book washed out from overuse. “Why did she look back?”
Her father’s expression shifted, his cheeks smoothed. Something stern rippled through his face and left behind scars.
“Because her heart was full of sin and greed,” he said finally. “Because she loved something else more than God.”
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"They were supposed to be sleeping. Or, at least, that’s what they had told themselves when they’d first climbed into the fort. But the night had been quiet—eerily so. No nightmares to fight, no looming sense of danger that usually kept them on edge. It was almost strange, this kind of peace. They weren’t used to it.
So instead of calling it a night, they decided to make the most of the stillness."