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whenever i use 👀 i hope you all know i mean im doing this

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That Moment of Reckoning part 2

Part 1 here

Lucius frowned as he stepped neatly through the Floo at the current Potter cottage. He should not have been able to enter at all if it were properly protected. His frown deepened as he moved from the entry hall to a corridor. What were they playing at, leaving anyone with a passcode wandering about their home? This, clearly, is what happened when you left Potter and Black in charge of security. What was that word his nurse used the one time?

Ah, malarkey. That was it. As was this travesty of home security. He would certainly have words with Sirius, once he found him. The carelessness of it galled him. Narcissa would have something to say, as well, at a later date. Unaccountably, she still cared for her younger cousin despite his political leanings.

Lucius found a sitting room that looked lived in and waited by the fireplace, leaning against the mantle (Elizabethan, possibly original, and placed for a good view of the entire room and hall). The furniture looked worn, but the unmistakeable scent of furniture polish underscored the flower arrangement on a side table. He appreciated the cleanliness of the space even as he decided that the furnishings would never even grace the nursery of his home. Some families gave children furniture they deemed too worn for other spaces but still serviceable. Lucius thought children deserved more than serviceable. He remembered longing for glimpses of the pretty things outside the nursery floor. Why should children have to beg and sneak to have a bit of beauty in their lives? Draco would never want for it. Children should have beautiful spaces in which to grow. He had little doubt that early years spent with scuffed floorboards and skirting boards and down-at-the-heels furniture left an indelible mark on a child’s character. Perhaps the elder Potters felt Potter and Black couldn’t be trusted with anything nicer?

He supposed, for a cottage, the room held an air of charming comfort. The—

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” Sirius interrupted his musing, entering the sitting room with an infant in his arms. He wore those revolting jeans and a loose shirt, untucked, with rolled up sleeves and the collar open.

For the love of Merlin, he had bare feet. Bare, in January!

“Are you even carrying your wand?” Lucius drew himself up to his full height and glowered. He’d just have to ignore Sirius’ sartorial crimes.

“Wh—I’m ho-visiting if it’s any of your business, Malfoy. And I’m carrying a baby.”

Sirius tried drawing himself up as well. It gratified Lucius to see he still topped the other man by a fair few inches.

“And cursing in front of him. I wish I were shocked at your lack of conduct.” He’d forgotten how much fun it could be, winding Sirius up.

“I must be going mad.” Sirius addressed himself to the infant. “That’s the only explanation, snidget, Pa-Uncle Sirius is hallucinating peacocks.”

The baby giggled and waved his hands.

“You are not going mad. You grandfather wishes you attend him, immediately. I was asked to see that you went directly to Buckingham House.” Asked…ordered by one’s wife…same thing, really.

“I can’t bring Harry there.” Sirius sounded scandalized. “He’s too tiny to go by Floo or apparition.”

“Which is why I shall be here, with him. I have a message for the Potters, as well.”

Sirius stared at him for a long moment.

“I’m meant to leave a baby in your care?” he sneered.

“I do have one of my own, you know,” Lucius answered drily. “I am not wholly incompetent.”

And if he’d practiced holding off intruders while holding an infant (stand-ins used, mostly a small sack of flour or a more cooperative cat), he’d keep his own counsel on that front.

“I know who you follow,” Sirius spoke quietly.

“Do you? Gracious, I hadn’t realized the Blacks had Seer blood.” He affected a scandalized tone of voice.

“We—you—you utter bastard.”

“If the baby’s first word is vulgar, I shall let Mrs. Potter know who is to blame.” Prefecting apparently died hard. Unfortunately, he couldn’t give Sirius a note for it.  

Sirius, sadly, did not rise to that bit of bait.

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t expect you do. His Grace does not enjoy when…what was it? Oh yes, young rapscallions keep him waiting. Do you enjoy him venting his spleen?”

Sirius twitched, likely at memories of the old reprobate ringing a peal over him.

“You have my word that no harm will come to the child at my hand. Nor will I remove him from this house or allow another to harm him. I will hand him back as soon as his parents return.” He’d make it an official oath if Sirius pressed.

“I’ve never known you to go back on your word,” Sirius replied slowly.

“And Narcissa would be most displeased with me, should I allow any to harm the boy. He is her kin.”

Sirius left the room abruptly at that and came back only a moment later with his feet stuffed haphazardly into house slippers. Lucius stifled a sigh. He’d hoped Sirius would at least tuck in his shirt and put on proper shoes. His funeral, Lucius supposed. Arcturus Black hated ‘muggleish fashions’ as much as he hated tardiness. Sirius could count himself lucky if he came back not having been bashed over the head with his own slipper.

Lucius accepted the child and held him close as Sirius located Floo powder and prepared to leave.

“Harry’s been fed and changed, so he should be fine until Lily and James get back. They should only be another few minutes. Just…keep him safe.”

“I will.”

And with that, Sirius tossed the powder into the fire and stepped through.

Lucius looked down at the baby in his arms and smiled, “Aren’t you a darling little one? Do you think the rocker is structurally sound? Hmm?”

Harry babbled back at him.

“You do? Well, I suppose I should bow to your expertise, Mr. Potter. You have the experience, don’t you?” He sat carefully and set the rocker going. “You really did get the best of all your parents, didn’t you? Oh yes, silly Papa thinking he could get one over on me. I’ve known him too long for that! I remember what he looked like as a baby, you know.”

Harry giggled and reached for the lock of his hair that trailed over his shoulder. He didn’t yank as Draco was wont to do, but patted gently.

“What a nice baby you are. Would you like to hear about your Dada and Papa getting in trouble at school? They were so terribly naughty as children. Your Mama was much better behaved!”

Harry babbled back at him.

“You would? Wonderful! Now, I’m a few years older than they are, and I was a prefect when they were just little firsties, so I got to hear all the stories from Gryffindor. The Gryffindor prefects were not terribly circumspect, you understand. Why don’t I tell you about the potion in the Charms corridor inkwells? That was normal school naughtiness and, between us, actually funny.”

Harry blinked up at him, smiling a sleepy baby smile.

“Yes, that should send you right off to sleep. I have a feeling I interrupted preparations for a nap. Now, many, many years ago, your Dada and Papa were just little firsties intent on making a name for themselves as prankers at school…”

He rocked slowly as he played out the tale, pitching his voice lower add lower until Harry’s eyes closed and he went lax in sleep.

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“What the bloody hell are you doing in my house with my child?” James Potter demanded from the doorway.

Harry woke with a start and a wail at the angry tone.

“There, darling boy, no worries. Dada is just being fussy,” Lucius soothed. “I hope you didn’t inherit his foul temper, no, not you.”

Harry calmed slightly, but big tears rolled down his cheeks and his breath hitched heartrendingly. Lucius bounced him a bit. Potter made an incoherent expression of rage from the doorway. At least both Potters had their wands out and trained on him. He stood and walked slowly toward them.

“Sirius was called away to speak with His Grace. I stayed with your child,” he explained, holding Harry out to his parents. “I have a message for you, as well, from the Black Paterfamilias.”

Mrs. Potter booted her grumbling husband in the ankle, tucked her wand away, and took the baby. Harry snuggled in, gently grasping a lock of her long hair and worrying it between tiny fingers.

“James,” she said firmly. “Is going to go make tea and get ahold of himself. Would you sit, Mr. Malfoy?” she turned back to Potter.

“I’m not leaving you with—” Potter hissed.

“Am I incapable of self defense?” Mrs. Potter asked mildly.

“No, but—”

“But nothing. If Sirius left Harry with him then he made some assurance of our safety. It isn’t as if he stops in for afternoon tea.”

They weren’t nearly as quiet as they thought they were. And, shockingly, certain Dark Lords did enjoy afternoon tea, or at least the social obligation of treating him as a treasured guest. He always ate all the muffins.  

Lucius settled for an armchair of dubious age, spelling the dog hair off it before he sat. They would be soppy enough to let the pets up on the furniture. James Potter stomped off toward the back of the cottage, muttering what were no doubt obscenities. For a moment, Lucius longed to be a Slytherin prefect again. Potter could use a good clip round the ear. Mrs. Potter joined him in the sitting room.

“Now that he’s out of earshot and can’t spend the next forty minutes escalating, what’s the message?” Mrs. Potter eyed him shrewdly.

By the sounds emanating from the back of the cottage, Potter made tea with the help of Bombarda.

“You are to be packed and ready to leave by this evening. His Grace is arranging a safe house on the continent. I don’t know where; it’s safer that way. Sirius will know when he returns. He…he will have been sealed as Lord Buckingham by that time.”

“Sirius refused it. He’s refused it every single time—”

“Because he’s an idiot.” Lucius cut her off. “I apologize for my intemperate words, Mrs. Potter. Sirius’ refusal to take his proper place in the family has long grieved my wife. Accepting is part of keeping this family safe. He’ll do it.”

“Why are you…what do you get out of this?”

He wondered if the rumors that she’d been offered Slytherin were true.

“Several months of panic, possibly ulcers, and then, hopefully, freedom. Choices were made for me that I find I do not enjoy. There are times when one comes to…a moment of reckoning, as it were. One must, of course, make one’s own way.”

“So you’re content to play errand boy?”

Lucius smirked at the sharp question. “Sirius has long been used to minding me and my wife, both in and out of school. Mrs. Malfoy is not yet strong enough to both petition her grandfather and argue with Sirius in one day.”

“This sounds like you’re setting up some third front.”

At that moment Potter blundered back in with a sloshing tea tray. Had Potter pulled a Severus and found all the most chipped mugs? Honestly, as if he would drink out of that assortment of oddities.

“His nibs had better like Assam, strong,” Potter bit out, setting the tray down with more force than necessary.

Mrs. Potter sighed and tidied up the dripping tray with a spell.

“I was just taking my leave. Mrs. Potter, a pleasure. Potter…you have tea all down your trouser leg.”

On that note, he rose and stalked out of the room, only pausing to say,

“Your child is a delight. Do keep him that way.”

before he made for the Floo. He did so enjoy getting the last word.

#this is an utterly delightful piece omg #Lucius is HILARIOUS #he’s such a funny bastard #and sooo many hilarious lines peppered into the narrative #even James potter calling him “his nibs’ LMAO #I love the thought that Lu loves babies #ofc he would!!! #babies are rare in their circles methinks #so the arrival of one is really one for celebration #he also feels like a disgruntled babysitter watching over recalcitrant preteens when it comes to potter and black #like plsssss #hp the season au #moment of reckoning #hp society/the ton #hp the season/the ton au #lucius malfoy #hp #fics #fic recs

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That Moment of Reckoning pt 1

Where My Soul Revive is the end of a new AU series, That Moment of Reckoning is the beginning. Because I am incapable of not starting yet another project and also have wanted to do a Scarlet Pimpernel (the musical) themed series for a Very Long Time. Series is probably going to be called Into the Fire because I am predictable and that song is a banger.

The first part was shared as a What If? snippet a few months ago and has been brewing in my brain since.

The title is a line from The Riddle, a truly wonderful song about betrayal and making your way through a dangerous and uncertain world.

He’d never expected to see Severus on his knees in the drawing room. Imagined in some of his more perverted moments (described to Narcissa in the dark of her boudoir, while on his own knees before her) but his imaginings had included quite a bit less weeping.

And certainly not that amount of…mucus.

The fevered excretions of his brain had very much not included himself kneeling with Severus, desperately trying to calm the younger man. At least he’d stopped prostrating himself on the floor. That sort of thing was all well and good in the boudoir, but thoroughly unseemly in the drawing room in the middle of the afternoon. Not that anyone could tell it was even afternoon with the gale outside, beating snow against the windows with every rattling breath. Was there any time in the year so wretched as late January?

“Severus, Severus please tell me what is the matter.” He cradled the back of Severus’ head and rocked as he would with Draco.

Severus wept in response. “I can’t…I can’t,” he gasped.

“You most certainly will, my lad,” he injected what he hoped was just enough menace into his tone. “Or you shall dearly regret it.”

It had always worked on a young, recalcitrant Severus. Perhaps he still held some authority? Severus shuddered in his arms, took several deep, hitching breaths, and finally looked up at him.

“You’ll hate me.”

Uttered in such a hoarse, wrecked voice, it tore at Lucius’ heart.

“I don’t care what you’ve done, my lad. I’ll never have it in me to hate you.”

Severus coughed on a sob. “You should.”

“Just tell me. We’ll fix it.” He hoped.

“I betrayed everything.”

Lucius barely heard the admission.

“Severus, what—”

“He told me he would kill her, her child. I…I went to Dumbledore and warned him. I’ve been spying for him since late August.”

The words tumbled out, as if Severus had been desperate to tell someone. Lucius gaped for a full minute before remembering that Malfoys never gaped.

“Are you telling me,” he began slowly, marshalling his thoughts. “That the Dark Lord told you he would kill Lily Potter. Told you to your face?”

“The child…there’s a prophecy,” Severus whispered.

“Everyone knows she is your one weakness, Severus. Everyone. That includes him. She still lives because the rest of us would also like to live.”

“I don’t…Lucius, I don’t understand.”

“We all know that if any of our crowd hurt one hair on her head we would all be dead at your hand. You’re the potions expert. Avery reckons you could do it so naturally we’d all look like we had dicky hearts.”

“What?” Severus asked faintly.

“It isn’t as if you were ever subtle about her. Now, this is a bit above my line of work.”

Severus pulled back at that, hurt and fear warring in his expressive eyes.

“No, you silly baggage. We’re going to take this to Narcissa. You know she’s the brains of this outfit. Honestly, if you keep on this way you really are going to get the smack you deserve, keeping this from us.” Lucius kept up a constant scold as he hauled Severus up and chivvied him from the room.

He did not miss the surprised shudder from Severus at his threat. Regrettably, experimentation would have to wait. Severus trailed after him, all miserable sniffling and hitched breaths, as he strode up the stairs to Narcissa’s sitting room. Merlin but he missed the coziness of the Dower House at times. Cissa’s rooms were up only one flight there, not two, and were also directly off the landing. But one couldn’t avoid moving into the ancestral pile forever, not without Society talking about it. At least they’d taken the time to renovate and remove a good bit of the Dark Tat Father collected. He considered a stop in the nearest w.c. so Severus could rinse his face, but decided that it would be better for him to confess himself to Narcissa immediately.

Confess himself.

Did they ever truly leave behind the patterns from the past? He’d been thinking about patterns lately as he’d found himself slipping, more and more in recent days, into the prefect he’d been at school. Those old patterns made for an easy path with some, like the men who’d once been in his charge. Without this war…no use in dwelling on that, really. There was a war and he’d chosen a side—or had one chosen for him—a long time ago now. Another pattern there, letting his father choose for him. He wouldn’t do that with Draco. He knew all too well how dangerous that path could be. Imagine if he’d been bonded with Bellatrix? That barely bore consideration. No, he would let Draco choose his own path, even if he wished to do something ridiculous, like topiary performance art.

Could he let Severus loose on his own chosen path? Could Cissa? The mere idea of Severus spying left his blood running cold. He and Cissa rather doted on him, as if he was their first child. From a certain point of view, he was their first. Lucius shuddered to think what Severus would say about being called ‘our boy’ or ‘our lad’ in such sentimental tones. It would very likely end with Severus pitching a pot plant at his head.

He knew better than to throw anything more than a sulk Narcissa’s way.

He felt a bit as if he’d just caught Severus biting someone, yet again, and was dragging him off to Cissa’s judgment after a thundering scold as they went down the corridor to her sitting room. Not that Severus had ever actually cried over a scold as a child. No, it took something stronger to break Severus’ iron grip on his emotions. What he must have gone through to break down like that, to still feel so fragile?

“Narcissa, have you a moment?” he asked, tapping at her door. “Severus has something with which he requires assistance.”

“Of course, my darlings!” Narcissa spoke brightly as her door swung open.

It frightened him, some days, how weak she remained so long after Draco’s birth. She’d had a better day, though, and felt strong enough to be up. He didn’t like to think how her better days came so much more frequently since father’s funeral. His pulse quickened as it always did in her presence, even when she wore a high-necked flannel wrapper against the chill of the day. She still looked pale to him, though her cheeks now held a faint but healthy pink. She reclined on a low divan and Lucius took a moment to admire the way the lamplight played off her hair before he made a long arm and hauled Severus forward.

“You can tell Cissa what you told me,” he ordered, though not too sternly. Severus had been through so much already.

Severus stood for a moment, seemingly poised to flee, and then moved shakily to the divan. He sank down on his knees beside it, burying his face in the cushions, and shivered miserably. Lucius crossed the room and took one of the easy chairs. This, he thought, needed to be between Cissa and Severus.

“I…I betrayed everything…for…for Lily.” The confession came slowly, haltingly.

“What happened, dear heart?” Narcissa stroked a careful hand over his hair.

“There was a prophecy. I heard the first few lines before I was discovered.” Severus coughed, shuddered, and seemed to pull himself together though he never raised his eyes from the cushions. “I brought it to him and…last August he told me that he believed it pointed to…to her child. That he would eradicate the whole family. My boon was that she would left alive for me…if possible. I…I went to the headmaster and…and bartered my service as a spy for their protection. I betrayed all for Lily.” His voice broke at the last and Narcissa ran a gentle hand over his hair.

“And you’ve carried that for months,” she said.

“I couldn’t lie any more. Not to you. Never to you.”

“I know, my darling, I know,” Narcissa soothed.  “He really told you he’d kill Lily Potter?”

“Lucius asked that too. Yes, he did.”

“It’s such an…odd choice for him to make, dear heart. Everyone knows that she has always been your one exception. I have no idea why he would tell you his plan. It makes me wonder how…well, how sane he is.”

“You think…I don’t understand,” Severus sighed.

“Malfoys always look out for their own best interests, Severus, and that includes yours. Lucius and I have had some…concerns lately, and that is all I shall say on that for the moment. The important thing now is to hear what you overheard of the prophecy, please.” She may have said please, but Lucius and Severus recognized it for an order.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him. Born as the seventh month dies…that’s all I heard of it.”

Narcissa sat quietly for a moment, gently stroking Severus’ hair. Lucius admired the picture they made, wreathed in the sitting room’s rosy light. Severus might never be considered pretty, but he certainly had striking features, especially when he was well-rested and had eaten properly. Lucius noted the signs of neglect piling up again—the dull hair, sallow skin, and lost weight all so apparent—and wished Severus would allow them to care for him as they so wanted. What he would give to go back a few years, to shield Severus from the poison dripped into his ears by so many. A pity time turners had such narrow scope. Several people could use a good kick down the stairs.

“I would like to know,” Narcissa began. “Who hears ‘approaches’ and thinks of an unborn baby?”

“That’s what I thought!” Severus finally looked up, vindicated. “It doesn’t make sense! And it could be b-o-r-n-e and not b-o-r-n. And what calendar is it using? I got crucioed for asking that.” The last admission came sulkily.

“I think, Severus, that the time has come for us to form our own front in this…long engagement,” Narcissa said. “First, though, you are going to have something light to eat and a bath. Then you are going to sleep until you no longer look so exhausted. You did well on coming to us. Lucius and I will take this on.”

“But I can help!” Severus protested. “I didn’t tell you so I would be shunted off to the side.”

Lucius hid a smile at that. Sometimes he wondered if Severus would have been better off sorted to a different House. Hufflepuff, perhaps, given that damned tenacious loyalty of his. He’d give his all, and do it well, even as he swayed on his feet from exhaustion. Blessedly, Narcissa always had a knack for managing him.

“You will in the future. Right now you can help most by sleeping and eating while Lucius and I handle the family part of this. We’ll make everything come out right, darling, but there are a few pieces that must be handled delicately. Grandfather will help, I believe, but I must go see him.”

Severus, disgruntled, allowed himself to be packed off to his usual room. Lucius assisted Narcissa in rising from her divan and gave her his arm for the long walk to her dressing room.

“What exactly has Arcturus Black to do with all this?” Lucius asked.

“Where James Potter dwells so to does Sirius Black.” Narcissa leaned against him, a weakness she would never show to any other. “James is also kin to the main Black line. Grandfather would sooner eat his own cane than allow harm to come to his heir or…not to put too fine a point on it, but James Potter may well have sired the next heir after Sirius.”

Lucius took a moment to appreciate that she would trust him with that.

“But our Draco?”

“Unfortunately, our marriage put him out of  eligibility. Malfoy magic is jealous magic, my love, and refuses to share her next Paterfamilias. Now, what color do you think grandfather would enjoy seeing me in most? He’s such a…a selective man that I never quite know what to choose.”

“Why not the rose pink walking suit?” Lucius patted her hand. He knew better than to press when it came to the Black family and their secrets. “You look lovely in it and the embroidery is a work of art. I believe he objects most strongly to those who won’t learn what suits and is suitable, and then look a fright at his dinner table, like your Aunt Walburga, who will wear claret where burgundy would suit better.”

“The wool is gorgeously warm. And I have my white furs…but such a bright pink in January? Do you think grandfather would find it frivolous?”

“You have the cardinal or the sapphire if you think the rose too unseasonal. I think the French tailoring keeps it from frivolity. He does approve of robes from France.” Lucius opened the door to her dressing room and brought her to the vanity. “Shall I leave you?”

“No.” Narcissa caught his hand. “Stay with me. We can decide on an approach together.”

He smiled down at her and then went to fetch the walking suits they’d discussed. No need to call for help when he could play Lady’s Maid just as well.

#HANG ON IVE NOT SEEN THIS #saving brb I’m currently at lunch #kdjwkdkdkd #hp society/the ton #hp the season au #that moment of reckoning #lucius malfoy #the snalfoys #narcissa malfoy #hp #snape

[sneverussape]

[sneverussape]

Tracey Emin, Birds 2012 London Olympic Print, 2011

#art

[sneverussape]

From one Tobias apologist to the other, I see a lot of my autistics traits in Severus and I have fun imaging Tobias dealing with the same things my parents had to deal with when I was little in his own loving rough way. I used to tiptoe walk so my parents had to get special shoes for me, obviously because of the time and their financial situation there’s no way Tobias could have afforded taking Severus to physical therapy or getting braces for his feet (and also because to do so was not a normal thing back then) but still he wanted his kid to walk properly so cue little Severus waddling around with his dad’s old work boots tightly wrapped on his feet so they won’t slip out

HELLO can i just say this inspired me to draw a lil thing…

thank you for the idea @snultiverse! tobias apologists are more than welcome here 😌😌

#I’m on a tobias kick lol #if I draw them both again then you know why #my art #the snapes #snape #tobias snape #tobias snape apologist #hp

[sneverussape]

You Can’t Have It All

(Barbara Ras)

But you can have the fig tree and its fat leaves like clown hands  gloved with green. You can have the touch of a single eleven-year-old finger  on your cheek, waking you at one a.m. to say the hamster is back.  You can have the purr of the cat and the soulful look  of the black dog, the look that says, If I could I would bite  every sorrow until it fled, and when it is August,  you can have it August and abundantly so. You can have love,  though often it will be mysterious, like the white foam  that bubbles up at the top of the bean pot over the red kidneys  until you realize foam’s twin is blood.  You can have the skin at the center between a man’s legs,  so solid, so doll-like. You can have the life of the mind,  glowing occasionally in priestly vestments, never admitting pettiness,  never stooping to bribe the sullen guard who’ll tell you  all roads narrow at the border.  You can speak a foreign language, sometimes,  and it can mean something. You can visit the marker on the grave  where your father wept openly. You can’t bring back the dead,  but you can have the words forgive and forget hold hands  as if they meant to spend a lifetime together. And you can be grateful  for makeup, the way it kisses your face, half spice, half amnesia, grateful  for Mozart, his many notes racing one another towards joy, for towels  sucking up the drops on your clean skin, and for deeper thirsts,  for passion fruit, for saliva. You can have the dream,  the dream of Egypt, the horses of Egypt and you riding in the hot sand.  You can have your grandfather sitting on the side of your bed,  at least for a while, you can have clouds and letters, the leaping  of distances, and Indian food with yellow sauce like sunrise.  You can’t count on grace to pick you out of a crowd  but here is your friend to teach you how to high jump,  how to throw yourself over the bar, backwards,  until you learn about love, about sweet surrender,  and here are periwinkles, buses that kneel, farms in the mind  as real as Africa. And when adulthood fails you,  you can still summon the memory of the black swan on the pond  of your childhood, the rye bread with peanut butter and bananas  your grandmother gave you while the rest of the family slept.  There is the voice you can still summon at will, like your mother’s,  it will always whisper, you can’t have it all,  but there is this.

#WOW #poetry

[sneverussape]

Since the OP made their post unrebloggable (and blocked me. Both actions they are well in with their right to do)

I'm going to make my response it's own post because I think the point is important

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As someone who is autistic and has BPD and CPTSD and loads of trauma yes you sometimes need to change how you interact with others to keep people around

When I was 13 I hit the few friends I had when I was angry

I had to change that in order to keep those friendships

When I was in my early 20s if I was losing an disagreement with my husband I would threaten to kill myself. My husband told me it hurt him and was cruel and manipulative behaviour, because it was.

So I worked hard to change that to keep my relationship

It's easy to say "I shouldn't have to change for others" and that's true to an extent. You shouldn't change your interests or passions or dim your light. And you should have space to be imperfect and flawed and not have to pretend your ugly bits aren't real. But if something you are doing it causing other people harm you kinda need to change that.

That's called "living in a society"

People adapt to each other and make space for each other in their lives. You adapt to them and they adapt to you

You start being more diligent about throwing away the empty toilet roll because it really bothers them. They start warning you before they run the blender because you hate loud noises

I stopped threatening to kill myself because I was mad I was losing an argument and my husband stopped being so vocally judgemental amount media he personally dislikes

There is a certain type of person who heard the phrase "your emotions are valid" and took that to mean "my emotional reactions and my behaviour are always objectively correct because my emotions are valid and if you have an emotional response or react to what I'm doing negatively then you are wrong and you can't be hurt because my emotions are valid"

And that's a recipe for disaster

Your emotions are valid to feel. They are how you feel and there are reasons you feel the way you do

However, your reactions and behaviour are something you can learn to control and can be irrational

We live in a society and we as people change each other as we interact and that isn't necessarily a bad thing

[sneverussape]

"if you ship this thing it's because you're too naïve to understand that it's toxic and that you wouldn't like a relationship like this" actually it's because I see one of them as a mentos drop and the other as a bottle of coke zero and I want to watch the mess they'll be together

[sneverussape]

it’s been a stressful week so have a pair of work besties having their own friday fun <3

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sketched during my 7pm work call 😂 i can’t make this a habit, i can barely retain anything we discuss, but these work sketches have been enjoyable

#happy friday #:) #my art #snape #mcgonagall #hp

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#REAL

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on catholicism and severus & tobias snape

if you’re going to expect a very well-thought out essay about this, please let me stop you right there. it likely won’t be :)) but this was prompted by comments of people on my hc of catholic!snape and a (long) conversation with @dementedlollipop on discord that just spurred so many Thoughts.

going under a cut coz i don’t know how long this will be.

Keep reading

#i do love this entire convo #catholic!snape #hc #meta #snape #hp #tobias snape #the snapes

[sneverussape]

in the bleak midwinter, part ii

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not really a birthday post but just an imagined (au) scene of one very cold winter’s day in 1960.

#god i remember how long it took to draw this :)) #the blueness of it nearly drove me spare #my art #hc #tobias snape #hp #the snapes

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in the bleak midwinter

the story of severus’ birth.

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snapecelebration - week 1 - miracle

#featuring one of my most prominent hcs :)) #and that is severus was a wanted child #esp after many miscarriages #my art #tobias snape #the snapes #snape #hp #hc

[sneverussape]

the untold stories of tobias snape and eileen prince

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dedicated to @byronicbat because i’ve been itching to draw them tbh and your selkie au made my pen slip 🥲🥲

#my art #the snapes #tobias snape #eileen prince #hp #bringing all these back lol #i actually forgot i drew these #hc

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Spitballing an AU idea (that needs more angst and seriousness than I’m good for)

Severus Snape time-travel AU, but from Tobias’ external perspective (probably a less abusive Tobias than whatever it was Pottermore implied.  Messy and awful and not liking anything much and estranged from his son for nearly a decade despite sharing a roof, but also just a human who’d had the world yanked out from under him and hasn’t yet stopped falling).  So, how would a Severus Snape who’d just died thinking he failed (failed Lily, Dumbledore too, perhaps) after he’d spent a suffering year as the Headmaster at Hogwarts react to having another chance (albeit from after SWM) and what would that look like from the outside?

A mystery story: Who is this Severus?  What has happened to his son, aged sixteen, home for the summer, only yesterday so full of rage (still so hurt over Eileen’s death last winter) and somehow no longer friends with that Evans girl?  Why did Severus save his father’s life (and how had he known where to be?) when just the other day the boy had glared like he wanted to put Tobias in the grave himself?  Can you build a father-son relationship on a foundation of sand and ruin when the son has suddenly become a stranger with some personal mission to stop a war and save the very people that wouldn’t’ve spit on him if he were on fire (that boy is acting like a soon-to-be saint grimly rushing towards martyrdom!)?

Years ago Tobias hadn’t wanted to believe in magic, when it was undeniably real, he’d resented magic (he still didn’t like magic).  But Severus is acting like it’s his job to save the magical world and maybe there’s a chance that he might need his muggle father, maybe it isn’t too late for Tobias

(I like the image of Severus seeing Tobias’ approval in the Mirror of Erised.  I like the idea of a very human Tobias who was utterly blindsided by magic being a thing and in over his head and still, possibly, capable of being better.  But I’m not terribly prone to making angsty things or taking stories seriously for very long at all, so if it sparks any interest feel free to grab and go running)

#au #tobias snape #snape #hp