#hullo new child

[aceyanaheim]

the Rebellious Preacher Kid trait of zeroing in on Edmund Pevensie on Sight tbh

#my dad's church: something something edmunds supposed to be about the disciple that betrays- #me: hes a smartass and doesnt wanna be here cool same hat hullo new child lmao #and then i had to suffer everyone saying hes a brat and mean to lucy but like thats a whole nother post #i just thinkits funny like does this count as meta am i walking meta/j lmao #preacher kid tag #personal #( lowkey i feel ike if you werent the rebellious preacher kid but you were the perfectionist one you went for Peter or Susan) #the only reason Peter got me lilke he did tbh was bc i am also 'eldest child ( diagnosis); but its got nothing on Edmund lmao #likei like peter/am fixated on his poor eldestbaby kid brain Now but like as a kiddo? #there as no other character but edmind to me the others i fixated on in re to Their Relationship #To Him #he was just..he was my favorite punkhead baby and i think its hilalrious on the context of the story ( and considering yes they absolutely #showed it in religion class) #juke don't look #religion mention #... #I Have A Normal Relationship With Fiction #mao

[monstrous-fusion]

MF Masterpost

🫶🏽 Hullo! We're the Bat Collective (🦇) the creator of Monstrous Fusion! We want to clarify that this is a Links Meet AU independent of Linked Universe or any other popular Links Meet AU. Our main account is @nebulapaws

Our Ask Box is; Open!

I ask that people be kind and respectful when answering questions. We are not a machine, we have a life outside this AU. You are completely allowed to draw fanart or write fanfics and don't be nervous to ping the account to show us! We love seeing what people have to create. We can't stop anyone from writing/drawing NSFW, we just ask that that not be shown to us. (This one is also common sense, but please do not write that about the children in this AU.) Thank you.

Detailed Synopsis;

Ancient forces have returned to the living world in the shadows of the divine. It struck before the goddesses can react and captured the goddess of courage, intending to spread their plague to the other three. Before she was fully imprisoned, she sent a warning to the goddess of Time; no one hero was enough, they needed as many hands on deck as possible.

Thus, the goddess of Time reached throughout the ages and pulled the heroes of old into one final adventure. They must battle the shadows of their past, present and future. One stumble, one falter or one wrong step, can lead to the end of the timeline and the creation of a new eternal age of darkness and despair.

Meet the Links (below the cut)

Artisan | ALBW/TFH (they/them) - A boisterous and adventurous young fellow. To the outside perspective, they can seem rather loud and oblivious--and they wouldn't deny it, either! What runs deeper, however, is a young person who has lost the deepest love, hoping desperately they can pick up the pieces left behind.

Engie | Spirit Tracks (he/they) - The Engineer is a smart young fellow. He's quite the boy scout--smart, kind and...a little too trusting for his own good--but he's terrible at fighting. He's shy, and not very people smart, but stubborn. In spite of his rather...poor sword skills, they've never heard the term "give up".

Eras | Hyrule Warriors (he/they) - In his prime time, he was the head of the Royal Guard, the most loyal soldier and best strategies. Now a retired war vet, Eras struggles in the shadows of the war. He's quiet, calculated but loyal to a deadly fault. He would do anything it takes, if that meant he could protect his family and kingdom.

Faye | OoT / MM (any/all) - A former hero that'd been turned into a monster upon getting lost in the Lost Woods. He's mistrusting of people, quiet and sneaky. If you aren't close with her, you'd think she's standoffish and unapproachable. Underneath that calloused exterior is a soft spoken child who wants to be loved. They just. Don't think anyone would love them enough to try.

Feathers | Skyward Sword (he/ae) - Determination is aer middle name. Feathers is confident, snarky and slightly egotistical. Ae had a taste of divine ichor and they're not afraid to drink from the devil's chalice again. Feathers is exceptionally skilled for a young man at his age. POTS has never stopped him, even if its gotten significantly worse since the beginning of this adventure...

Minish | Minish Cap / Four Swords (they/them) - Minish has never been one for talking. They're reserved and self contained but quite bright. As a system, they've never felt like they've had a place to slot into. Turmoil from their past still lingers as an echo in the back of their mind, and with the freshness of their adventure, even at the young age of 12 they have a lot to think about.

Mirror | alltp / Oox / LA(he/they/ze) - Mirror has had zer fair share of adventures--honestly, he was pretty sure he's seen everything. Once a glowing and legendary adventurer and mage, Mirror is quite happy to retire and settle down with Ralph. In their old age, they are snarky and imbittered. Though the hero's courage still rests deep in his soul, an inexplicable cowardice has taken hold--or perhaps it never left?

Tune | WW/PH (he/him) - Tune is a carefree sailor hailing from Outset Island. He's very intune with the winds, seas and the culture of his home. As such, he is carefree, reckless and a bit of a goofball, and that can often come off a bit childish if you don't know him personally. For someone his age, he's skilled with the sword and oddly nonchalant about the risk of hurting someone.

Rancher | Twilight Princess (he/she) - Though he is but a simple farmhand from Ordon, Rancher is exceptionally brave, often going out of his way to help those in need. Possessing a heart of gold and dogged loyalty to his greatest good, Rancher is the ideal hero. The only thing marring her perfect image is a shadowy form and a regret that boiled his blood.

Wild | Botw/Totk (he/him) - The traveler is a curious fellow. He's quiet, reserved and holds himself with an air of mystery that befuddles and intimidates those around him. He wears his life on his face and scars, yet no one knows much about him. Inside he fears the lack of control in his life. Though the shrine has cleansed him of his self imposed silent burden, he lapses occasionally into that silence. Under all that, he is quite the adventurous young fellow and enjoys a good challenge.

Zonau | 10k hero (he/it) - Zonau is a mysterious fellow. He is quiet, reclusive, and tired. Many years have passed since he had given up on adventuring. To say he is disgruntled to be on another adventure is...quite an understatement, really. In spite of that, he is not a barer of the hero's spirit for nothing. He adventures with a wild spirit, even if its been dulled over the years.

#Monstrous Fusion #Master Post

[impishtubist]

finish your shit december, part 2

I challenged myself this month to just finish all the things that are lingering in my drafts folder. Either that, or post the abandoned stuff so someone else can enjoy it. 

Part 1 is here. I posted 45K of an abandoned Remus/James raising Harry fic on AO3:  love's such an old-fashioned word. 

Part 2 is an abandoned fic where Sirius and Remus raise Harry, and Sirius has a difficult time with Harry calling him “dad”. It’s not a new trope and it’s been done so many times that I don’t feel like I have anything original to add to it, so I’m not going to finish it. 

So, without further ado, here are 1800 words of feelings about Sirius being called “dad.” Some of these scenes are unfinished, so they start and/or end abruptly. That’s just the way it’s going to be, sorry! 

-----

The first time Harry calls Sirius dad, it’s a punch to the gut. 

It’s a sticky evening in August. The late-summer air is thick and cloying when Sirius Apparates to Ottery St Catchpole, and he’s drenched in sweat by the time he reaches the Burrow, even though it’s only a short walk from the designated Apparition point. He steps into the blessedly-cool house and is immediately set upon by several delighted children. 

“Hello, Ginny m’dear,” he says, sweeping the youngest Weasley child into his arms, and she giggles when he kisses her cheek. “Percy, George, Fred, hullo. Ron, what’ve you got there? Oh, yes, that’s a very nice toad. Harry, lad, are you ready--”

“Dad!” Harry breaks through the crowd of Weasleys to latch onto Sirius’s hand. “Come see!” 

Sirius must black out for a moment. All of a sudden, he’s in the back garden, with no idea how he got there. Ginny is no longer in his arms--oh, Molly has her, good--and Harry is chattering happily away about a piece of art he’s made. Sirius’s mind is blank except for dad dad dad dad.

Dad is James. Dad is reserved for the man who wept the first time he held his son, for the man who was Sirius’s brother in all but blood, for the man who gave his life in hopes that it would give his wife and child time to escape. 

Sirius isn’t dad. He doesn’t deserve that title, not after his actions got James killed and made Harry an orphan.

“Harry,” he says softly, crouching next to the boy, taking the picture from his hands to examine it, “I’m Pads, remember?”

Harry gives him an odd look. “Yeah, I know.”

“Okay.” Sirius decides not to press the point, instead choosing to praise Harry’s artwork. “This looks great, Prongslet. Shall we find a place to hang it up at home? I think Uncle Moony would love to have it in his study.” 

***

The next time it happens, Sirius is trying to get dressed and pack a suitcase at the same time. He’s already missed his Portkey, which means he’s going to have to Floo, and the International Floos at the Ministry are hell this hour of night. At this rate, he’ll be lucky if he arrives in enough time to snatch a couple hours of sleep in his hotel room before the conference starts tomorrow.

Remus is down the hall, giving Harry a bath. From the sounds of it, he’s having about as much luck with that as Sirius is with his packing. Harry’s voice is high and distressed, and though Sirius can’t make out the words, he can tell that the boy is on the brink of a complete meltdown. He’s had a long day, and it’s already half an hour past his bedtime, and Sirius is leaving him for the first time. Remus is doing his best to soothe him, but it’s a losing battle. 

Sirius closes his suitcase and latches it just as tiny feet come pounding down the hall and hurtle into the bedroom. Harry, naked and wet, latches on to his leg and wails, “Daddy, no!” 

Remus skids into the bedroom, holding a towel.

“Harry James, for Merlin’s sake,” he mutters, crouching to wrap Harry in the ridiculously fluffy yellow towel. Harry squirms, trying to break free, but Remus gets him wrapped snugly in the towel and lifts him into his arms. “Sirius has to leave, but he’ll be back--”

“No,” Harry cries, reaching a hand out to Sirius. “Don’ leave, Daddy, no!”

There’s no mistaking what he’s said, not when Remus instantly pales. Sirius can’t pretend that he misheard it, that Harry said Pads instead. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius manages, and he doesn’t know who he’s apologizing to. Harry, for leaving? James, for usurping his place in Harry’s life? 

I never wanted this, James. I never wanted to take this from you. 

Remus recovers first. He bounces Harry gently in his arms and says, “Pads is coming back, Harry. It’s only for a couple of days.” 

Harry sobs, still reaching for Sirius. Sirius doesn’t know what to do. He stands frozen, warring with himself. He always comes when Harry calls for him, always, ever since that awful Halloween night when he pulled Harry from the wreckage of his home. Harry had sobbed for Pafoo and Sirius had been there. And now he’s just going to leave Harry? For a medical conference? 

“Go,” Remus tells him over Harry’s cries. “Sirius, go. This is important. We’ll be fine.” 

It’s a conference on new, experimental treatments for cursed wounds. It could change countless lives. Sirius still wants to throw it all away, because Harry is asking for him. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever forgive himself if he walks away now. 

“Harry, give Pads a kiss,” Remus says in a cheerful voice, and Harry stops crying long enough for Sirius to cover his pudgy cheeks in kisses. 

“I love you,” he whispers. Then, he kisses Remus, grabs his suitcase, and practically flees the room. 

Harry’s wretched sobs echo in his ears for days. 

***

None of the dozens of parenting books Sirius read in the first few months after Harry came to live with him prepared him for the horrid, soul-sucking pain of hearing his best friend’s child call him Dad. He doesn’t know how to deal with this. He’d tried to correct Harry, once, gently reminding him that he already has a dad and that Sirius is perfectly happy being Padfoot, but it all ended in tears. 

“Sirius, he doesn’t even remember James,” Remus tells him softly in bed one night. “You’re all that he knows.”

“We’ve told him about James and Lily.”

“But it doesn’t mean anything to him. Yes, we tell him that he had parents and that they’re gone now, but I don’t think he grasps what that means yet. Because as far as he’s concerned, he’s already got two parents who take care of him and love him.” 

“James would hate me if he knew,” Sirius mutters. 

“What are you talking about? Of course he wouldn’t.” Remus strokes Sirius’s hair. “Sirius, what do you think the point of making you godfather was? That it was just something James and Lily did on a whim? That it was just symbolic? They wanted you to raise Harry if anything happened to them. We all know that James is his father, but to Harry, you’re the only father he knows.” 

“So I should just let him call me dad?”

“That’s what you are to him,” Remus says. “And I’m afraid if you push back on it too much, he’s going to start to think that you don’t want him.” 

“James should be the one who’s here for him.”

“But he’s not,” Remus says gently. “We are.” 

***

When illness descends upon the Potter-Lupin-Black household, it usually takes them all out at once, and Harry is typically the culprit. Not that he can help it, but he is the only one of them who spends his day surrounded by thirty other less-than-hygienic five-year-olds, and so he often brings their illnesses home to his guardians. Remus is usually the one who is affected the least, but this time it’s only two days until the full moon and he’s already moonsick, so catching the ‘flu from Harry knocks him immediately out of commission. Sirius, though he feels like death himself, can’t curl up in bed next to his lover like he so desperately wants to. Someone has to look after Harry.

“Sick, Siri,” Harry moans against his shoulder, his skin fever-hot and burning through Sirius’s shirt. 

“I know, baby.” Sirius paces the kitchen, rubbing Harry’s back as the boy clings to him. He’s already given Harry the maximum amount of pain potion and fever reducer allowed for a child his age, so now there’s nothing to do but wait it out. Harry’s too young for a sleeping draught and too uncomfortable to fall asleep without one. The only thing Sirius can do is offer him this paltry comfort.

Slowly, Harry grows heavy against his shoulder, and his wheezing breaths start to even out. Sirius aches all over and his head is spinning and there’s a fierce pounding behind his eyes, but he keeps up his steady pacing. Anything to keep Harry calm and comfortable. 

When Harry finally goes limp against him, Sirius carries him upstairs. He eases Harry carefully onto his bed, drawing up the blankets and tucking him in. 

“Stay.” A small hand grasps his finger just as Sirius shifts his weight, preparing to get up. “Daddy stay.” 

“Daddy has to go to bed, too,” Sirius says softly. The word is ash in his mouth, and his eyes sting. I’m sorry, James, I’m so sorry. 

“Stay,” Harry says again, his voice wavering, and how can Sirius say no to that? 

“Okay, Haz,” he whispers. Harry’s bed is much too large for the five-year-old, but can fit them both easily. Sirius scoots up to lay next to Harry, his head on the other pillow, his body curled around Harry’s. 

***

On the morning of Harry’s sixth birthday, he wakes them both up at dawn by climbing into bed with them. He thinks he’s being quiet and subtle, but he’s all knobby knees and sharp elbows, and they both come awake instantly.

“Harry,” Remus groans, shoving his head under his pillow. Sirius, more of a morning person than Remus is, merely chuckles and cuddles Harry close.

“Let’s give Moony five more minutes, hm?” he murmurs, knowing that if he can get Harry to lie quiet and still for a moment, he’ll inevitably fall asleep again. 

“No,” Harry says, sticking out his lower lip. He’s clutching a book in both hands, and he says, “Papa read?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, Remus surfaces from under the pillow. He stares incredulously at Harry, who rolls over to face him. 

“Papa?” he tries again, and though Sirius can’t see him, he knows Harry’s giving Remus the biggest puppy-dog eyes he can muster. “Please?”

Remus seems incapable of speech, so Sirius clears his throat and plucks the book from Harry’s hands. “How about I read to you, sprog?” 

“No,” Harry says again. “Papa does voices.” 

“Papa does do the best voices,” Sirius says, shooting Remus an imploring look. Remus can fall apart about this later, just like Sirius did a couple of years ago

Remus clears his throat and sits up, the blankets pooling in his lap. He pats his thigh, and Harry crawls over to him, presenting him with the book. It’s a wizarding children’s story about a prince who falls in love with a dragon, and it’s been Harry’s favorite for the past three months. Sirius can recite the whole thing in his sleep, but Harry’s right--Remus does it better. 

***

Sirius steps into the house and knows immediately that something is off. The house is quiet. Too quiet. When you have a seven-year-old--especially a seven-year-old who is the progeny of James Potter--silence is suspicious. This is the kind of quiet that means the house’s inhabitants are Up To Something. 

“Remus?” he calls cautiously, shutting the door behind him. “Harry?”

“In here, Pads,” Remus says, and Sirius follows the sound of his voice to the main room. Remus is seated in the armchair closest to the fire, his knees pressed together, bending over something that’s on his lap. Harry stands next to him, peering intently at whatever it is that Remus is tending to. 

“What’ve you got there?” Sirius asks, setting down his bag and shedding his jacket. He drapes it over the back of the couch.

“Come see,” Harry says, grabbing Sirius’s hand and pulling him over to the armchair. “I found her.” 

It’s a kitten. She’s tiny, far too young to be away from her mother, and Remus is painstakingly bottle-feeding her. 

“She was in the garden,” Remus supplies without looking up. “The mother cat isn’t anywhere nearby.”

And Remus would know, his werewolf senses able to scent her in an instant if she was around. 

“Can we keep her?” Harry asks.

“Ah, well…” 

“I told him that he had to ask you,” Remus says, the traitor.

“Cats are a lot of work,” Sirius tries.

“I can take care of her,” Harry says. “Moony got me a book.”

“Did he, now?” Sirius says, trying to shoot Remus a glare, but Remus is ignoring him. Of course.

“Please?” Harry tugs on his hand, looking up at him with wide, imploring eyes. “She doesn’t have a mum, just like me. I can look after her.” 

Sirius drags a hand down his face. Oh, how this kid has played him. Despite himself, he feels faintly proud. 

“Yes, fine,” he says, and Harry shouts in glee. “But she’s your responsibility, Harry.” 

“I know. Thank you, Dad!” Harry throws his arms around Sirius’s waist, squeezing him tightly. Remus also gives Sirius a pleased smile, and Sirius rolls his eyes. As if he could ever deny the two of them anything.

Harry spends the rest of the evening attending to the kitten, learning how to bottle-feed her from Remus and debating various names for her. He rejects all of Sirius’s suggestions (even though Sirius thought that “Salome” was an excellent choice, actually, and “Minnie” was a close second) and eventually settles on Cleo. 

“S’pose she’s kind of cute,” Sirius says when they’re up in the middle of the night to feed her. She’s still tiny, too young to be away from her mother, and needs feeding every few hours. Remus wasn’t about to make Harry get up to do it. 

“Want to hold her?” Remus asks, and Sirius snorts. 

“Nah, ‘m not a cat person.” 

***

He’s been a Healer for the better part of ten years now, but no part of his training adequately prepares him for the sight of Harry, pale as death, standing at the bottom of the stairs with blood streaming down his arm and dripping onto the floor. 

“Sorry about the carpet, Padfoot,” Harry says weakly.

***

Sirius is napping on the couch when the Floo roars and Harry comes tumbling out of it, followed closely by Remus. The boy’s talking a mile a minute, excitedly recounting to Remus every moment of his weekend with the Weasleys. Remus takes Harry by the shoulders and steers him quickly into the kitchen, murmuring, “Harry, we talked about this, Dad isn’t feeling well, so we need to keep it down.” 

Their voices fall to quiet murmurs, and Sirius drifts off again. 

Remus wakes him at dinnertime with a glass of water and some more potions. Sometime during his nap, Cleo had joined him, and she’s curled up and purring on his stomach. 

“‘m not a cat person,” Sirius mutters dejectedly. Cleo, oblivious to this fact, purrs away.

“I know, darling,” Remus says, sounding amused. “But Cleo seems to think otherwise. Come on, potions first, and then some food.” 

Sirius grimaces as he swallows the potions, then manages half a bowl of soup. Remus goes off to make dinner for himself and Harry, but Cleo is content to stay right where she is.

“You’re s’posed to be Harry’s, y’know,” Sirius murmurs to her. 

Cleo only purrs louder. 

***

Sirius hadn’t been prepared for the memories that would slap him in the face when he stepped onto Platform 9 ¾. Seeing the Hogwarts Express for the first time in many years--and yet, at the same time, in hardly any time at all--transports him instantly back twenty years ago, to the day that changed his life for good. 

Remus’s hand finds his and squeezes. Harry’s taking everything in with wide, wondrous eyes. 

“Got everything?” Sirius asks him, even though he knows that Harry does. The boy’s been packed since mid-summer, and if by any chance he’s forgotten anything, Sirius can owl it to him immediately.

“Yep.” Harry looks at them both, sudden apprehension tingeing his expression. “I should...probably go find a compartment?”

“Probably,” Remus says. “We’re cutting it a little bit close. I’m sure Ron and Neville are already here, and you can sit with them.” 

Ron is indeed already on the train, and Remus helps Harry get his trunk and Hedwig settled in his compartment. Sirius opens his arms for a hug, and Harry falls into them. He’s so thankful for this boy who is as affectionate as James was, and hugs him tightly.

“Don’t forget to write to us,” he says. 

“I won’t.” 

“And use the mirror if you need it.”

“I will.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Dad.” Harry presses his face into Sirius’s chest. Sirius squeezes him tighter.

“We’ll see you at Christmas, baby.” He drops a kiss on top of Harry’s head, then releases him so that he can hug Remus.

#sirius black #harry potter #remus lupin #wolfstar #imp is writing #wolfstar raising harry #finish your shit december

[frankhightower]

2024 Size Drive: Introduction

Aaand it's March and the page is done! I got a lot to say about this one so let's do a sort of FAQ:

Second drive? Where's the first? The First Size Drive ran from late March to late April 2023. I'd been trying to do it for years but that was the first time I was able to before Macro March was over. This is also why there was nothing for Micro May last year, but I've planned one for this year. And if you're new here, welcome!

What do you mean by "one panel every day"? Last year, I would only make a page when I got a donation. I soon discovered this was terrible for visibility, so I tried a regular schedule for my other drives, which soon proved unmanageable. This time, I'm just going to post a single panel every day that I'm able, and we'll see how many panels I can end up doing by the end of it.

Why are you suddenly un-fluffy? Where's your winter coat? In-universe (even though these events are non-canon), the size drive is supposed to be a 30-ish minute live event that takes place at the end of the month. Although it has been rather cold lately (which, don't get me wrong, I'm happy about!), I'm drawing everyone in "spring" fur for this reason: I'm hoping for "normal" spring temperatures by the end of this.

So how does the "grow or shrink multiplier" work? Each donator specifies if their donation goes to growing or shrinking. If someone donates $10 to grow, 10 is added to the numerator of the multiplier: i.e. my size is multiplied by 10. If they donate $10 to shrink, 10 is added to the denominator: i.e. my size is divided by 10.

What do you mean you "corrected" it? Last year, I wrote the multiplier as "size = size × fraction", which means that I wasn't multiplying my original size, but my new size, meaning the multiplier wasn't being added to, but multiplied to. I didn't realize the mistake until the second donation, at which point I decided to run with it since most growth/shrink drive "stories" are about how the growing or shrinking malfunctions.

So how does it work now? If the fraction stands at 10/5 (i.e. 11 ft since 5½'×10÷5=11) and someone donates $10 to grow, the fraction will become 20/5 (i.e. 22 ft). If they donate it to shrink, the fraction will become 10/15 (i.e. 3 ft). The fact that my size can change wildly is part of the fun, and creates a friendly competition between the viewers who want me bigger and the viewers who want me smaller!

Who are Bobby, Jason and Jeremy and why do you "not have them" this year? Part of the reason for doing the drive was to introduce my characters. They each had a role if certain milestones were reached, and the only milestone we didn't reach was Camila the fairy's. There are in-universe reasons for why they wouldn't return for a second year, but mostly, the reason is because having to draw them all severely upped the drawing time, even when they were just a background blur. We really only "need" two camera operators.

Who's Camila? A childhood friend of Susan. This actually makes her hard to draw because I really only had a solid story design for what she looks like as a child!

Who are Jane and Susan? Frank's in-universe wife and daughter, respectively.

Your "daughter" looks taller than you Yes, she's an adult here, and she takes after her mother (who is taller than me when we're both mouse-sized). Also, she's standing on tippy-toes to avoid damaging the camera.

Is she wearing jeans?! Unlike her parents, Susan prefers wearing pants/trousers. It's her little bit of teen rebelliousness that stuck with her as she grew up. (She was wearing a dress last time because she thought she should look formal if she was going to be in front of the cameras, but now that she's behind them...)

Why does she say "Hullo"? I had a few British teachers in elementary school, so I say some words "the British way" (like "aluminium"). Susan had mostly British teachers in elementary school, but since her mother has a very strong American accent, it had a similar effect on her.

What's that thing behind her? An archway.

No, the other thing! Stairs. The fountain is in a lower area.

What's with the permit? Jane is a lawyer by trade and one of the milestones last year was "getting so big the police gets involved". It would be fully in-character for her to file for a permit as soon as she knew we were doing this again: she's good friends with the police captain and wants to keep it that way. Note that getting a permit for this requires authorization from three separate entities: The Human Government, The Mouse Government, and The Magical Government so she is properly proud of having procured it!

What's this about the dentist? Due to (among other things) genetics, most of my teeth have had to be filled and this means the fillings periodically break and need to be redone (periodically meaning each tooth breaks about once a decade, don't panic yet). After about, wait for it, a decade of not being able to go to the dentist, last year we tried to fix all my teeth in one go... and quickly ran out of money. The situation was made worse by a combination of other factors which I hope to explain later, but the priority was paying off the debt to the dentist so she could finish the job.

For this reason, the previous Size Drive's stated reason was "to pay off my dental bills". It was a big help, but didn't quite reach that goal, and the "combination of other factors" has been keeping me from paying it off since so I haven't been able to go back to her.

What do you mean you'll be "showing us the kingdom"? If the first size drive was to introduce my characters, the second one is to introduce the world. There's a branching script of sorts in my head so that, especially on days when there's no donations, there's something for the characters to do. (Branching because "what if I get too small by the time we get here? what it happens over there?" etc.)

What's with the church in the background? It's a town square. Town squares have churches.

I suppose you'll explain more about the setting as the month goes on? Yes.

So... where can I donate? The donation link is http://PayPal.me/FrankHghTwr and any amount is much, much appreciated!

#shrink drive #growth drive #size drive #mouse #furry #anthro #donation #worldbuilding

[realfakesmiles]

(  jung eunbi ,  female , she/her  )    : ̗̀➛   twenty-five years young , a firebender and lightningbender dreamer from the royal house of yi  . many know them to be merciless & ambitious . how unfortunate , truly … i’ve always found them to be graceful dedicated & cunning . they oft fulfill the duties of captain of the city watch . oh , i should tell you — they support the rule of house yi . well , you know how every storyteller bends the tale they tell .  

x intro x history x plots x mun x pinterest x

(  koo junhoe / ju-ne ,  cis-male , he/him  )    : ̗̀➛   twenty-six years young , a fire bender from the noble house of jeon . many know them to be unintelligent & disoriented . how unfortunate , truly … i’ve always found them to be earnest & charming . they oft fulfill the duties of a cultural advisor . oh , i should tell you — they are impartial to the rule of house yi . well , you know how every storyteller bends the tale they tell .   

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hullo friends, my name is lyna and i am here with my lil newborn brain child yi yeongja. the muse for this one is strong so i'm super excited to be here and plot with you all! it's been a hot minute since i've rped on tumblr really so please be patient with me. my discord is plumboss in case you'd like to plot on there, feel free to add me and lemme know who you write and such and we can get to plotting asap. if you prefer tumblr ims just like this message and i'll bug you. i have some premade connection ideas and some prepared headcanons based on canons, as well as a small backstory and an introduction to yeongja's character all set and ready to go, links above for each. yeongja's... not a nice person lol, i was really inspired by that royalty character trope of the competitive, ambitious girl that pretends to be the nation's sweetheart but is actually a sinister viper. there's more to yeongja than just the trope ofc but she's heavily inspired by that and powerful female characters in general. thank you for reading and happy writing!

! NEW !

hullo again friends! lyna back with another brain child named jeon joonsoo. he's a big ole himbo essentially lol - a pretty face with a heart full of gold and a head full of rocks. fairly opposite to yeongja, joonsoo is a very warm, happy, friendly guy who always means well and loves showering people in compliments and affection! he's a serial flirt cause of this though, so be careful! his commitment issues are through the roof! he's a cultural advisor at the capital and improvises his way through a lot of his public facing job, because it's easy enough to charm his way through, rather than being a historian or something that requires more intellect. he knows all the latest trends and fashions, keeps up with current affairs, represents the fine tradition of fire bending and dabbles in art (rather horribly, but he's very unaware how bad his poetry, dancing, and painting is). let me know if you wanna plot with him!

#rs.intro

[siriuslychessi]

“If one day I decided to leave, would you run away with me?”

Collection AO3 | FF

Christmas Break was something Marlene loved, she got to spend time with her family in Scotland, the siblings that graduated, and the new niblings that came during her time at Hogwarts.

It was a warm and festive time that she got to enjoy in the middle of a stressful year. 

Of course every family had her ups and downs, but going home had an invigorating effect on her. Maybe because she adored to be the favourite aunt, or maybe because she was still pretty much a daddy’s girl, even nearing her 16th birthday, but she found it special and it replenished the battery for her to go back and face the fuckery that was Hogwarts pureblood population.

She had spent her day with her friends, unpacking, catching up, promising herself that she wouldn’t be one of those people that would change as soon as she had a boyfriend. 

Were they even in a relationship?

She assumed they were, but they never said anything clear in that regard, and she had pushed Sirius enough to date, she didn’t want to push more than that. 

At least not yet.

It didn’t dawn on her, until she entered the Common Room, that Winter Break wasn’t as thrilling for everyone else as it was to her. 

While she was bubbly and eager to talk about Lily’s new neighbour, and Mary’s fling, Sirius was sitting alone, near the fireplace, just staring at the fire, like all his energy had been taken in a swift of a wand. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t look for him earlier, he had been with James and the boys. She had seen him laugh, they shared a few moments with all the friend group, together. But now, in the almost empty Common Room, Sirius looked depleted, even sad.

Something that didn’t agree with Marlene at that moment. 

She excused herself from the girls, so that they could catch up when she went out to bed, which both Lily and Mary knew would be rather late, or not happen at all. However, they understood as Marlene went to sit next to Sirius. 

“Hullo love, something on your mind?” she said, making herself fit in the space between Sirius and his arm.

Sirius, who was mostly energetic, barely moved as she adjusted. He was still reliving some of the things that happened at home, wondering how it got to that. Even if he hated the bastards now it didn’t used to be like that, he remembered once liking being at Grimmauld, but now… the constant struggle just to have a normal conversation, the repetitive standards he had to fulfil even when he didn’t want or care for them, chipped away at his tough exterior and the child inside that just wanted his parents to see him for who he was and not what they wanted him to be.

He tried to play it down, to make it seem like he didn’t care, that he was just a Gryffindor, brave through and through, but some nights, like that one, it was simply too much for a 16th year old to carry with the burden of the world. 

They stayed like that for a few moments, it was odd that they weren’t bickering or snogging, just sitting there, watching the fire burn. Not a word to be said, just the crackling of the wood and the distant buzz of the few people still in the Common Room getting ready to go to their dorms.

“If one day I decided to leave, would you run away with me?”

It startled Marlene when he spoke, it was softer than anything that he ever said to her, but it spoke louder than many of the things that he said.

She looked at his hollowed eyes, usually there was a spark of mischief behind them, but not at the moment. All she could see was rage and hopelessness. It broke her.

“That depends, do we bring you emotional support boyfriend with us? I feel you wouldn’t last a day without James.” it was an attempt at teasing, maybe to bring him back from the darkness, maybe to just distract him from the intrusive thoughts. 

A small smile appeared on Sirius' left side, it was tiny but it was progress. 

He had to give it to her, she had a great way to bring him back to himself, to remind him that there were people that see something more in him than an heir and a way to carry on with the family's delusional ideas. 

“He is the one dependent on me, the poor bloke already ditched his girlfriend. I think he’s gonna propose soon, do you think I should do my nails for the occasion?” 

“Oi! No one is going to propose to my boyfriend, that’s weird!” she laughed, not realising what she said, just happy that he wasn’t brooding anymore.

“Boyfriend?” He asked after a few moments, not sure if he heard her right, they never discussed it, they never talked much, they mostly snogged, but he guessed that after almost 3 months of that they needed to be more than just a fling.

“I… oh… we don’t have to… I mean I thought we were there but if…” she stumbled, she didn’t want to pressure him into this, they were supposed to be having fun, just teenagers, even if she wanted more she would rather be slow than nothing.

She was about to defend herself some more, to explain that they didn’t have to, that things could be the same way as they had before. But her lips failed her on the account that Sirius’ lips were on top of hers at the moment.

They weren’t forceful, they weren’t trying to take more than they were given, but they were firm and she found herself relaxing a bit.

“I’ll go break up with James in a bit, I’ve got a girl now, can’t make her jealous.” he smirked at her, making McKinnon roll her eyes.

“Like I would be jealous of him, I’ve got a better sense of style. Quidditch jerseys can only do so much.” she joked, and Sirius laughed, that wonderful loud and contagious laugh.

#blackinnonfest2023 #blackinnon #sirius black #marlene mckinnon #sirius x marlene #fanfic #mine

[winthorntales]

Femslash Friday: Couples That Never Were But Should Have Been Vol. 4

Mother Sappho can sure be cruel.

In the tv series The 100, we have a lady-lovin’ side character with an interesting background who is criminally underdeveloped and killed off too soon.

With the limited time we are graced with her presence, this side character is somewhat reduced to the role of the evasive love interest of a protagonist who spent half of their initial time together grieving her dead boyfriend. A dead boyfriend, mind you, who was gruesomely deaded on the lezzie side character's orders! I mean, Holy Jacob Black, does it get any worse than that?

Yes.

To top it all off, the attempted romance ends cheaply tragically before it even truly kicked off, casting this shadow of shallow placation over the whole tchotchke affair.

*begrudged index finger clap for on-screen same-sex love tho*

And then… *lights cigarette pinched between teeth*

Then there’s the staple character with several seasons’ worth of engaging, divisive, heart wrenching internal and interpersonal development, who is as intolerably sexy as she is strong, caring, and deeply flawed. The sugar, spice, and everything damaged that draws this angst-addicted, lovelorn moth (me, hullo) to the flames of everlasting love.

And this character, of course, is straight. No bi-no buts-no bends straight.

Octavia Blake, played by the magnetic Brunette Goddess Marie Avgeropoulos, is the sapphic sister we deserved but never had a chance in hell of getting.

She was a phantom on The Ark (illegal child hidden under the floor never to be seen or acknowledged by the world in which she lived), turned ace survivor in the new world, turned assassin, turned trauma-plagued warrior queen, and I lived for every gutting second.

She loved Lincoln with such fiery depth that her heart sank into some dark waters when he was torn from her. She never lost it completely (her heart), but trying times, like the increasingly intense circumstances of everyone's survival, didn't help her recover it any faster.

But new love could have. New love with someone worthy of it as a person and deserving of a greater story as a character.

The only thing that would’ve salvaged The 100 as a whole, to my viewing pleasure, was a slowbloom-to-true love romance between Octavia as Blodreina, the tormented Dark Queen of Wonkru, and her Right Hand Healer - the only woman who was still willing and able to see the heart of a tortured hero behind her blood-stained crown.

The potential of a perfectly squeetastic a.k.a. overtly romantic relationship between Octavia and Niylah sat in the room like an elephant in a tutu every time they were on screen together.

We’ve got Protector x Nurturer roles, Seme x Uke dynamics, reasoned heart-wrenching angst, and earned trust. Throw in some hurt/comfort scenarios with a little mortal danger or sexual intimidation directed at Niylah by the enemy, and Octavia losing her shit on the asshole who dared threaten/hurt her lover, and I would’ve given up all my earthly possessions to board this ship.

If Niylah had become Octavia’s second chance at true love in a hopeless place, I would be singing The 100’s praises ‘til the end of time as having one of the best sapphic love stories to grace the small screen. But she didn’t. Because she couldn’t. So, I don’t. But I can dream.

#sapphic suggestions #sapphic concept #wlw concepts #wlw mood #femslash february #femslash friday #the 100 #octavia blake #niylah #octavia x niylah #clexa #niytavia

[zapsoda]

hullo!! which one(s) of your OCs, if any, sleeps like a ill victorian child? (or, any weird & funny sleeping positions in general)

hmm im not sure what that means so i will take some creative liberties ehehehehe.....

i imagine tax and bally are very restless sleepers (wonder why). literally nightmarish to share a bed with honestly. kip is far less so but he sleeps so lightly that like a pin dropping will wake him up. also terrible and scary. you roll over open your eyes and there he is. staring back. his eyes and antennae glow in the dark

contrastly (new word), diesel and tanner are both the type to conk out in a really odd position and sleep like the fucking dead for 8-10 hours. like actual corpses.

#if thats not what u mean feel free to say i can add on lol #these are the most interesting sleepers i think probably #asks #oc stuff #ty btw :D

[dmsden]

Monster of the Month - Otyugh

Hullo, Gentle Readers. September is here, the heat seems to finally be dropping a bit, and we have a new Monster of the Month. This month, we're looking at that delightfully disgusting garbage-dweller - the Otyugh. As always, big thanks to Scott Fabianek for providing the wonderfully gross original art.

Otyughs are one of those monsters that're pure D&D. They aren't based on mythology or a story; one must assume they came out of Gary Gygax's imagination. appearing first in 1977's Monster Manual. I've seen speculation that they may be based on the trash-compactor monster from Star Wars (the dianoga if you're as geeky as me), but the Monster Manual came out only about seven months later, so that doesn't seem super-likely.

Otyughs inhabit an important place in a dungeon's ecosystem; they get rid of carrion, offal, and other nasty waste. It's not hard to imagine dungeon dwellers learning to take advantage of an otyugh's presence, throwing their leavings down a pit to be dealt with the nasty thing. "Dump that bucket down the well, but if you hear or see anything funny, move away quick. Old Slargbargh's down there, and he'll eat fresh as soon as rotten."

Looking at an otyugh's stat block, we see a lot of interesting stuff. They're aberrations, which suggests that they originally hail from the Far Realm. This makes sense, given their monstrous appearance, their tentacles, and their touch of psionic power in the form of their limited telepathy (more on that later). Their abilities are decent, but their high Constitution save makes them extremely hearty creature...makes sense that a beast that wallows in filth is unlikely to succumb to poison, disease, and the like.

It has a nice, solid multi-attack of a bite and two tentacles. Given that the tentacles have a 10 foot reach, and they enforce both the Grappled and Restrained conditions on their targets, this is clearly its primary mode of attack. The bite, although shorter in reach, does more damage and carries a very nasty disease. Not only does that impose the Poisoned condition, but it carries a wasting sickness as well that slowly drains the sick person's maximum hit points. While this sounds scary, characters able to take on the otyugh (with its challenge rating of 5) are likely to have access to the lesser restoration spell.

The really fun sounding ability an otyugh has is its power to tentacle slam creatures. The image of this bloated, monstrous creature either slamming grappled opponents into each other, the ground ,a wall, the ceiling, etc is very cinematic. And not only do they take a decent amount of damage (more than the original tentacle damage, actually), but they can be Stunned as well. Very dangerous situation for the PCs.

By far the most unique element of an otyugh encounter is the creature's limited telepathy. Otyughs only speak their own language, but they can transmit simple messages and images to creatures. Since they're not particularly stealthy, this seems like a good way for an otyugh to lure its prey in. As you get closer to the pit, you hear a cry, like a child, from within. You can't make out the words, but they sound so pathetic. Surely you can't abandon the tyke!

As I mentioned before, an otyugh seems like a really likely creature for other dungeon denizens to know about and to use. The bullywugs might pretend they have treasure hidden in the midden pit, or they might tell the PCs that's here they've got the prisoners stashed. When the PCs seem to hear a call for help, that'll add to the scene the bullyugs are laying. But what emerges as they approach, or lashes tentacles out at them, certainly isn't the prisoners. Let's hope the prisoners are elsewhere, because, otherwise, they're likely in the belly of the beast!

This is a monster I would be sure to describe in lavish detail, especially when describing the nauseating smell of it, the sucking, smacking sounds of its huge mouth, the pain of the piercing tentacle barbs, and the foul breath and rotten teeth as someone gets dragged into a bite. I would 100% play up the scene for complete grossness.

I hope this article has you drooling to add an otyugh to your adventure. Next month is October, so we're bringing a creepy creature of darkness from Japanese mythology into the light. Until then, may you spot the otyugh in the garbage before it spots you!

[blizzardsuplex]

About Me, I Suppose?

Hullo there! You can call me Mel - I use she/her pronouns, am in my 20s, and live in the GMT +8 timezone. I like to say I enjoy the three “r”s of reading, roleplaying, and wrestling, but I also enjoy music, comic books, and turn-based RPGs.

Since this is a wrestling sideblog, though, obviously it’s time to talk about that. I joined Tumblr because I was getting desperate to interact with fellow wrestling fans who wouldn’t think it was weird to write and/or read fanfiction (shoutout Drea from @shes-a-voodoo-child, who tumblr will actually let me tag now!) I’d love mutuals, then, who are part of that subgroup, though ofc I’m just happy to find people in general to talk to about this medium. What I watch/which wrestlers whose careers I make an effort to follow are as follows:

Promotions: AEW, NJPW, TJPW, assorted American indies (2014-2016 PWG was the formative promotion for me...for better or worse). Wrestlers: Zack Sabre Jr., Speedball Mike Bailey, Miu Watanabe (and most of the TJPW roster TBH), Roderick Strong, Robbie Eagles, Chuck Taylor, Max Caster. I also pay at least some attention to the people who’ve crossed these people’s paths, of course (like ELP, Taichi, MJF, etc.) I also have written some quite a bit of wrestling fanfiction; some minor NJPW stuff, but I’ll link only the fics I’ve written under anon here on my shiny new fics page!

That’s all for now, I think. Hope to continue having a good time on here with you all!

#mel's writing tag

[colossal-red]

CandyLand au Chapter One: Candy Men

Tw: Candy People, Swearing, mentioned vore (none happen), fear, unintentional fear. WC: 1800-ish.

Tommyinnit led a different life from most boy’s. You see, his dad, Philza ‘Candy’ Minecraft, owned a candy store. That was fairly popular in the city of L’Manburg, and Tommy just so happened to work their. He remember’s the day when his dad gave him the job at this place, “Now Tom,” his dad had told him. “One day, you’re gonna be the owner of Philza’s CandyCraft, but before that, you’ll need to do some work here.” For the first year, he was unpaid. But as time passed and he got good at his job, Phil had started paying him. It was a pretty routine life.

Wake up, eat breakfast, get ready for work, work, go home, eat dinner, sleep, repeat. With a lunch break in the middle obviously. Of course, Philza could’ve chosen his other son Wilbur to take the reigns of the Candy Store, but he was off trying to become a famous musician with his band. But today he was closing up shop, saying goodnight to Karl as he closed the doors, and prepared to sweep the entire fucking store. Sigh, he absolutely fucking hated this part. He ended up making a little game out of it, sweeping up these dumb ass dust bunnies. “Hullo! Thought you could get away huh? Ya bitch.” He swept away several dust bunnies while providing witty banter to his imaginary audience.

As he finished sweeping up the last of the bunnies, he saw something, really goddamn strange. “What the fuck…?” He whispered as he moved closer to get a closer look, on the floor next to a door to a storage room, lay two pieces of Candy. But, Tommy had just swept there not five minutes ago! He leaned down and examined the pieces, they were two pieces of sweets that were shaped like people, and were somehow standing on their own, backs turned from Tommy. The one on the left was a teen made of Crystalized honey, weird, Dad was just working on a new product made out of the shit. And the one in the right was a teen made out of a black and white frosted cookie, with some purple as well.

If Tommy didn’t know any better, he’d say that the two had tensed up when his breath hit them. He picked the two treats up off the ground and held them in his hand like he would any other piece of candy. He finished closing up shop, locked the front door, and headed upstairs to their apartment, and subsequently, his room. He laid the pieces of candy on his nightstand, and decided that he’d have them as a little snack in the morning to get the day started with something sweet. (You’d think that since Tom’s old man runs a sweet shop, that his kid would be allowed to eat a load of the shit, but apparently fucking not. Because it’s “Bad for you”.) He laid his head in his pillow, and closed his eyes.

Tubbo was absolutely scared out of his mind. It was a miracle that both he and Ranboo had managed to remain quiet throughout that entire time while being held by that human’s hot ass hand. Fuck. But there was no time for Tubbo to get his own feelings sorted out, by the look of Ranboo, he was about to have a full on Panic Attack. “Boo, you need to calm down.” Tubbo comforted Ranboo putting his hand on his shoulder. “We need to figure out a way to get down and to get the fuck out of here.” Ranboo nodded, still unable to speak, and let Tubbo lead the way to get out.

While Tubbo is exuded confidence as he searched the child’s desk for anything to help the two down, he was fucking terrified on the inside. He’d heard the child’s monologue about eating them in the morning. (But weird that he spoke aloud, but ok.) Tubbo could probably survive a fall to the ground, and only gain a small dent. But Ranboo would literally crumble if he did that, so Tubbo had to figure out a better solution. Thankfully, the desk was plentiful in resources, but not all of them were helpful. “Alright, we have 12 pencils, 11 paper clips, 10 toy cars, 9 candy wrappers, 8 small animals, 7 stray Lego pieces, 6 framed photographs, 5 random stickers, 4 stacked books, 3 piggy banks of decreasing size stacked, two erasers, and a lamp in a pear tree.”

That was oddly fitting to a song he’d heard the Candynapper singing earlier. So, the majority of stuff was useless, including a water bottle he hadn’t mentioned earlier. He looked over the edge of the nightstand, and saw that the wire of the lamp could more than likely be scaled downwards. He shared this plan with Ranboo, who initially declined before realizing it was the only real way he could get down. Tubbo walked down it a bit, before sliding the rest of the way, and waited for Ranboo. So, with a little encouragement from Tubbo, Ranboo also made it soon after, sliding straight into Tubbo’s arms. “Alright, now let’s get the hell out of here.” Tubbo told him punching the teens shoulder.

“Darn it, I think I still lost a few crumbs…” Boo finally spoke unprompted as they got about halfway across the floor to the door. “Oh now you choose to speak normally? Don’t worry ‘bout them Boo, Human’s are hopefully pretty dumb and won’t notice it.” He assured him. “Oh really, he just won’t think anything of it when his treats have magically disappeared?” Boo retorted, making Tubbo pause for a moment. “We don’t need to worry about what he’s gonna think, we just gotta be long gone before he wakes up.” Ranboo snickered slightly as they finally reached the damn door after an eternity.

“What’s so funny?” Tubbo asked Boo, finally getting annoyed by it. “It’s just, you said Bee-heheh.” He said laughing just a bit more. “Oh ha ha, because I’m made of honey, you’re a prick Ranbus. Let’s just get under this bitch already.” But try as they might, unless they suddenly became chewy squishy candy, they would t be getting under the door any time soon. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Tubbo was promptly pissed off as he kicked the door, leaving a small honey dent in his foot. “What are we gonna do Tubbo?” Ranboo asked, tone getting increasingly more worried and anxious as the sun began to rise outside. And Tubbo felt like murdering the birds that were chirping outside.

Tubbo wracked his brain for all the possible things that he could do, but his mind drew a blank. But that was nothing compared to the blank terror that spread across the honey teen as the alarm clock went off…

@beckyu

#mcyt g/t #candy boi’s au #giant!tommy #tiny!tubbo #tiny!ranboo #implied giant!karl #giant!philza #implied giant!wilbur #honey!tubbo #cookie!ranboo

[greypetrel]

For the intimate moment prompts: "telling each other I'm here" for Aisling and Cullen?

Hullo!

Thank you for the prompt! I used and finished a piece I had jolted down and could fit... And that I don't know if I'll ever use in the fic, so here you go. xD

It's set not so much after this morning's prompt, it LONG (...have you people noticed I'm wordy, I don't know if you noticed)... But it comes with a 2 hugs at the price of 1!

Tis, on the other hand, is the prompt list!

20. Telling each other I'm here

Aisling’s for once thankful that her room is so awfully big and so awfully detached from the rest of the Keep, when she wakes up screaming after a particularly vicious nightmare.

She scrambles up, sitting upright and watching her fingers in the practiced exercises she knows to realise whether she’s still in the Fade or not. It’s a poor attempt, given how much her fingers are trembling right now, any fine mobility is severely impaired and she grows antsier with frustration at not being able to do it. It’s something that Deshanna taught her as a child and always insisted with both her and Pavyn to keep on practicing every day, all day. She has committed to the exercise, she’s been teaching the same to the Mages she recruited! And yet, now she’s to wrung up, too trembling, her sweaty skin itself feels uncomfortable, and she’s struggling.

She resorts to the second best exercise: close her nose pressing her nostrils with her traitorous fingers, shut her mouth, see if her body needs to catch up with breath. She’s still trembling like a leaf, but eventually her lungs start to burn, and she gags in reflex, gasping for air. Not the Fade, after all. She can relax, sure that’s really her room, really her space and not yet another vision of the Nightmare. She curls on herself and starts crying.

Truth is, she hates sleeping alone, she has never slept alone before Haven, and even if the first few weeks of it felt frizzy and wild with the new-found freedom of spreading and curling up in blankets as much as she wants, no one snoring or waking her up, it quickly faded out. The new bed in Skyhold, insanely big and plush, gave her the enthusiasm back for maybe one night of spreading as large as she could in the middle of it just because she could. But honestly, the only fully restful nights had been before the Western Approach, when Radha shared the room. In this moment, feeling alone and upset by her nightmare, no one to talk to or comfort her, she would give a arm for someone beside her to hug. She’s stayed in Adamant, if not physically, at least with her mind, the Demon had got through to her and managed to convince her, at least in moments when she’s more vulnerable, that she is alone after all. And with the recent news of her Clan being attacked, sleeping on her own at night is becoming rather difficult.

Biting back a whine, she raises her face to look out of the windows: it’s still dark outside. She considers putting on some more clothes and slip in Dorian’s room and take shameless advantage of his kindness. Except, she’s now afraid he may reject her, just tell her to go away because it’s definitely too late or too early, and she’s just being whiny. A little part of her brain tries to tell her that it’s Dorian, he wouldn’t, he would just complain because he likes to complain mindlessly, while giving her one extra pillow and tucking her in without asking. Except, that part is the weakest one. As weak is the one that suggests her that if not Dorian, go to Radha. She knows, she wouldn’t mind, you already did the same so many times, she wouldn’t even need many explanations over sharing a bed platonically. But the night still whispers, and it whispers that they’re not children anymore, she can’t keep on relying on the older elf so much, it won’t do any good to either of them and Aisling knows Radha’s feeling guilty already because when the bridge got destroyed, the Rogue tried to catch her and didn’t manage, and is now blaming herself, hard. She won’t add to her guilt, she won’t make her feel even more miserable, not when she’s staying in Skyhold just because of her.

Without anything better to do or person she feels close enough to seek for help right now, she hugs herself, because she needs a hug and there’s no one around, and keeps on crying.

There’s a pop on her left, and the mattress slightly shift under the weight of someone.

“Lonely, unwanted, nobody can quite reach, I should have stayed, not Stroud, all those deaths are my fault, I killed them, I killed them all. But they’re all still alive.”

It’s Cole, in his dreamy tone. She hasn’t in herself to explain to him that appearing in someone else’s room it’s not quite polite, she just cries more at his words, without replying or even looking at him. She’s vulnerable and she hates being so, but she’s grateful there’s at least one person who can see her, and that makes her cry more.

“I’m not the only one, tho. He’s not sleeping either, he rarely does. Solid, protecting and proud, can see where you can’t, would understand this.”

“Cole, please.”

It’s not the time for that, it’s not the time to be reminded she has some interest. She feels pretty uninteresting right now, little, lonely and guilty. So, so guilty.

“Do you want me to make it better?”

He asks, and she wants to cry because it was her to teach him to ask before acting, at least with people who can see him. She doesn’t need any more clue to unfold herself and throw at him in a hug, circling his bust with her arms and bawling on his chest. He hugs her back a little awkwardly, but doesn’t say anything and lets her feel everything and throw everything out. She squeezes him and tries to concentrate on how grateful she is that he’s here, how fond she is of him and how she wants him to be happy.

“Thank you, Cole.”

When his arms hug her back and she can feel his cheek on her head, a sigh ruffling her hair, she hopes she got through.

---

It’s almost dawn, which means it’s almost a proper time to visit the gardens and start the day, she decides, minding both the doors and her steps to be as quiet as possible, as she exits her quarters and quickly pads through the main hall. It’s still empty, save for a couple of tired guards on night’s watch, whom she waves at in silence. She’s quiet and careful in opening the door, and in closing it behind her, welcoming the crispy air and the cold with joy as soon as she slips in the columnade around the small garden she insisted in dedicating to herb gardening. As she thought, she’s the only one there so early in the morning, but it’s another kind of loneliness than her room. Here it’s more welcoming, the air is fresh and full of the familiar, homey smells of earth and grass wet with dew, and of all kind of greenery that grows. It’s not the perfume of woods and forest of her childhood, but the background humming of Skyhold’s silent presence, welcoming and peaceful, barely caressing the back of her mind, feels like a welcome embrace, feels like peace and quiet and a promise of something good.

Not that she can do much of anything as for actual gardening, as Elan Ve’mal had tactfully made her notice, knowing where plants like to grow in the wild and what to cut and prune to make them grow better has little to nothing to do with where and how they like to grow in vases or in gardens from a seed, and it’s as delicate a matter than combining them for poultices and medicines. So, what she can do to keep herself busy, what Elan has checked that applies for vases and greenhouses as well, is gathering and pruning. That she can do, and that she sets up in doing, grabbing a basket and a pair of scissors from the rack and getting to work.

She sits down on her knees in the patch of Elfroot: the light is still not enough to clearly see colours and details, even for keen elvish eyes, but she has handled enough Elfroot to know from tact alone which leaves are dry and dead and which aren’t, and where to cut the leaves if she goes slow. She’s a little out of it anyway, so she picks leaves indiscriminately and puts everything in the basket. As much as Elan complains about it, nothing gets thrown away of elfroot. It’s mechanical work and it’s all the more grounding, with the dampness of the dewy grass, the pungent smell of the plants and the light, chilly breeze prickling at her ears, everything reminds her that she’s there, not in some distant nightmare. She concentrates on the work and on her body. She’s sleepy and her eyes are still a little dry from having cried, but it’s still too early to nap somewhere, and she doesn’t really feel like it. Not yet.

As the first rays of sun starts to pink the sky and illuminate somewhat more her surroundings, she can assess how the other plants are doing. She really doesn’t want to bother so much as to collect rashvine, she forgot to pick the gloves and they feel too far away to go and fetch on her own -a pity Cole didn’t want to follow her, she muse… But she notices something that reminds her of childhood.

Embrium, two flower beds to her right, is on the verge of blooming. Meaning that the flowers are still closed in little buds of the same red of strawberries… And they’re sweet and sour and delicious. That has her smiling in bittersweet memories, and decides instantly to head there. Before people arrives and she’s caught in the act.

She’s flooded with memories as she settles beside the flowers, smiling at thinking of her, at 6 following Pavyn like a duckling with his mama, hand clutched on his vest and hiding behind his legs when he stopped to greet other clan members, Radha walking quietly behind. The Keeper was out of the camp with the scouts, she was there since too little and still didn’t speak, and the two siblings were usual presences in the Keeper’s aravel and just what she needed. Pavyn and his ability to make friends with a wyvern, and Radha who shared her silence and just… Was there, comforting and reliable, not expecting her to speak or stop crying as the rest of the children. It was her who found the Embrium in bloom, eventually, and Pavyn praised her, leading their already well-established trio towards the flowers. It was the first time she had laughed in weeks and weeks, eating the buds and playing who has the reddest tongue...

She misses dearly the Pavyn of old times. She hopes he is happy, now, back as First by role if not by name, and who knows how long not by that as well.

She’s so lost in thought, rolling one bud between her fingers so it easily detaches from the stem, that she doesn’t hear the door opening and closing behind her. She’s chewing and relishing in the sweetness, when someone startles her with a supposing innocent

“Good morning.”

She jumps on her spot, swallowing badly and instantly starting to choke on a mix of tangy fruit pulp and spit. She pats her chest, bending over and coughing loudly. Deshanna was right in getting angry whenever she caught her eating them, they WERE dangerous.

Someone kneels beside her and starts to fumble around her -she catches some movement with the side of her eyes, but is too preoccupied to not dying to really notice much- before awkwardly patting her back.

“Maker’s Breath, I’m so sorry, are you- Ah, let me call someone. Or-“

“I’m -cough- fine!”

She manages to reply, finally able to swallow properly and breathe after the moment passes and she coughs her airways free. She takes a couple of gulps of air and assessing, finally, that the early visitor is Cullen, who’s now staring at her with worry.

“I’m fine, I swear! I didn’t choke, see?” She takes a big breath, puffing her chest up and exhaling noisily as a show. He chuckles.

“I see. I’m sorry I startled you again, I thought you heard the door.”

“Don’t worry. Serves me right to get so lost in thought, anyway.”

“It was very unwise, tactically.”

She snickers in agreement, and for a minute none of them seems quite sure where to go there. He is quick in getting back his hand from her back, and she notices that since news of her Clan arrived, he’s even of fewer words than usual. At least with her. She clears her throat and thinks of the best thing that comes to mind.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not quite. You?”

“Neither.”

She admits, rather sheepishly, and there’s silence again. She would smack her head against a column if she could for making it so awkward. After he kissed her knuckles at Adamant and defended with words of gold against those horrible Duchesse, she was forced to admit that she may have some deeper interest. But, since apparently nothing changed for him and she’ll be dead before repeating another stunt like she did with Cassandra, she must keep as normal too. So, she wills her brain to abandon the idea and not go that way, it’s just that it’s been a difficult night full of nightmares and he’s there, and she’s fragile, and he looks like it’s been a rough night for him as well. Nothing more, she won’t get the bait. But then again, staying there silently looking down won’t do. So…

“Here, try this.”

She says, picking another bud -and that she chooses the biggest and reddest one is merely a coincidence- and offering it to the Commander, with a smile she wishes was confident and not shy. He looks at the bud and at her, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s this?”

“Elven candies.”

“What?”

“Try it!”

She giggles, but he takes her offering nevertheless -still a little suspicious- and tentatively eats the flower, chewing a little before opening up in a surprised expression.

“It’s sweet.”

“See? Embrium buds are so tasty at this stage, They’re really great if you don’t eat too many.”

“Speaking for experience?”

“Mpf, yes. I still remember the cramps, it was awful.” She snorts, picking another one nevertheless and chewing it with a smile.

“How many did you eat?”

“Mh, I don’t know? Ten or more… But I was seven and scrawny, so the effect was only worse. The Keeper was so angry at Pavyn… I wonder if he still eats them.” She snickers, absent-mindedly, and doesn’t notice until it’s too late that it’s maybe the first time she spoke of her clan umprompted and unasked for.

“Is Pavyn your brother? You mentioned him in your letter as well…”

“N-no… As if, but not by blood. He’s Radha’s older brother, the other Mage in the clan beside me and the Keeper. We were very close as children and teens but he… Got angry at me when I became First in his place. It was never the same between us, after… And now…”

Her mood drops once again, realising that she may not have a chance to settle things up with him ever again, if things go south in Wycome, rolling another bud between her fingers, absent-mindedly and looking how it stains her fingertips if she pressed enough.

“We’ve sent help, they’ll reach them in time.”

The way he says it, it’s half an order and admits no denial. She almost wants to believe him, but the recent nightmare still gnaws at her heart. She doesn’t want to cry in front of him, tho, so she nods, and get back to the Embrium. There’s light enough to check the leaves.

“Yes, we will.” She simply replies, hating how destituted she sounds. She wants to believe him, she really does.

“I’m-“

“I spoke of them. I was thinking of them, I can’t not think about them. That’s a bittersweet memory even on normal days, you didn’t do anything wrong. Either we’re both sorry, or no one is.” It’s her Keeper tone, the one she uses when she really wants to make a point or be listened to. She casts a glance towards him, see snapping to attention, and nodding. She smiles, hoping to sound reassuring. “Bad dreams?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about them?”

“Not really.”

“Wanna help me?”

She asks, kindly, and watching how he raises a brow sceptically at her.

“Are you sure whom you’re asking to help with gardening?”

“Are you sure you know who is asking it in the first place?” She laughs, softly.

“You’re great with plants.”

“I’m decent at using plants. Not at growing them. Dalish, remember? We forage and care for the plants we meet, not grow them in vases.” She offers him the scissors, invitingly. He doesn’t seem so sure of it, but accepts them nevertheless, huffing through his nose and raising to his knees beside her.

“All right. But if Elan Ven’an gets angry, she’s all yours.”

“Oh, she’ll know it’s me. Just cut the dry leaves out, see? These ones… There, yes.”

“And no eating the flowers.”

“Ah! Nope, that’s enough.”

They fall into work side by side, and it’s easy enough to snap dead leaves with her fingers, no matter how cold and chilly they’re getting in the morning. The sun is rising, and the clouds are getting pink and lilac, and not being on her own really helps. Silence with Cullen is comfortable, it always has been outside of the moments, lately, when she’s too occupied in thinking she would really like to tread her fingers in his hair and see why exactly Varric calls him Curly and she’s afraid she’s readable enough for him to see. But if he does, he’s delicate enough not to mention it. And now, with hands occupied and her minds upon something she has control and -some- knowledge about, everything is back as before she realised she wanted something more than friendship. Comfortable, and warm. He isn’t apparently, because this time it’s him that breaks the silence.

“You know you can- Ah, I meant.” He starts fumbling again, after a while.

“Yes?”

“I came here because Cole told me.”

She was smiling, but her smile drops instantly, turning back to the flowers and working quicker -antsier- than before.

“Did he.“

“He told me to check on you.”

She shakes her head, vigorously. She has just regained a parvence of stability and peace, she would not go back there again.

“I’m fine, it was just a nightmare. You should not be worrying about me.”

“I worry because I can relate, and I know what happens if you go on like this.”

“I’m not-“

“I’m sorry but-“

He gets closer and gently -too gently that she’s not startled again- grabs her left wrist with his hand, effectively stopping her from her frenzied pruning. His hand is cold against her skin, but she shivers involuntarily.

“I’ve seen you getting so riled up and crumbling not too long after, for tiredness and nerves. I don’t mean to pry or tell you what to do, but please, I- Ah.”

He seems to gain knowledge of exactly how close they got, his shoulder pressed against hers, her arm still in his hand. She can’t look up but it’s something, right? She hears him swallow, and move the other hand -calmly and slowly, giving her plenty of time to move back or give him a signal to stop. She doesn’t, so he gently moves her face sideways and up with warm fingers, so she’s looking at him. Cole was right, he is steadfast and solid, and she feels even more tired than before.

“I only meant to say that if you want to talk, I can listen. Or if you prefer Dorian, Cassandra or Josie or Solas, just please, tell me you need some time, I’ll manage to spare you some hours. Just-“ He sighs, and shakes his head, averting his gaze, she feels his finger under her chin contracting minutely. “-If you get to worry about me I get to worry about you, right? You’re not on your ow- oomph!”

She can’t take it anymore. Fuck ruining friendships or minding his supposed attention for personal space. Aisling Lavellan expresses her feelings physically, and through physical touch. So, since she’s a second before crying, she launches herself forward and circle his bust with both her arms, hugging him tight. She’s started to cry again and she will be embarrassed by it in some minutes. Right now, she relishes the fact that Cullen’s not wearing armour, for once, and crying on his chest is warm and comforting, and she hopes he can feel how much that means to her.

“Thank you.” She just says.

“I’m here.”

Which may sound stupid and so close she can hear him grumble and groan in embarrassment. It makes her giggle, it’s endearing and adorable, and she just hugs him tighter, grateful. She’ll need to bring some sweets to Cole, or show him where her secret candy stash number 2 is. But right now, she just moves a little away from him -ignores that her heart is stupidly beating faster than usual- to look at him in the eyes.

“I’m here as well. If you want to talk about it.” She declares maybe too solemnly that what would be needed, but. “I mean, if you want… It helped me, speaking about it, and-”

He smiles, shaking his head fondly and just dragging her again in another hug, holding her tight.

“Thank you.”

He just says, and even if he doesn’t say anything, it’s comforting and Aisling can feel him melting slightly around her, as he sighs heavily and hugs her tighter

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #cullavellan #cullen x lavellan #cullen x inquisitor #aisling lavellan #greypetrel #dragon age fic #most likely Leliana will bribe Cole to close them in the same room together #writing petrel

[murielismyname-waterismygame]

I don’t ever multiship because I’m usually an all-in kinda gal. But I am torn between Romiome and Dramione because I love the redemption aspect of Draco taking ownership for his hateful youth and being kind and genuine to Hermione and appreciating her as a person beyond who bloodline (that is the ONLY way I accept dramione, he can’t be a prejudice shithead but uwu he’s only nice to her but still looks down on impure bloodlines). But I grew up reading HP and so Romione just has a wholesome, nostalgic feel to it. Kind of the childish idea of what love is, in a sense.

It’s been over a decade since I read the books, so I don’t remember a ton and I kinda like it that way; it’s more of a whimsical, childhood memory I get to revisit, and that sort of makes Romione sacred in a sense? I can’t read fanfic about it because it has to stay in my childhood. But a Draco redemption ft. BAMF!Hermione who can be soft?? I’ll eat that shirt for dinner.

Maybe one day I’ll get around to rereading the HP books. I’m definitely conflicted because of TERF-JK and her controversy, and idk how I’ll feel re-familiarizing myself with something that’s become more a feeling than an accurate memory. This time of year always makes me nostalgic for Hogwarts and the imagined “memory” of it during winter.

Idk if I’m describing the feeling well, but because of my intense imagination, reading the books was a fully immersive experience as a child. And that memory of imagining the HP world is such a sacred thing the pops it’s head up at this time every year for a brief “hullo!” It’s the feeling I get from listening to the John Williams soundtrack from the first two movies, or the way the first two films were lit (compared to the rest of the films, the first two are very warm and golden while the rest contain more blues and grays, which to me always signified Harry’s expedited maturing). The first two movies/books had that youthful glow as Harry, and the kids in the audience, are first introduced to the magic of this new world through the lens of of a child’s eye. It had the whimsy, the kookiness, and the warmth of being child and having the world at your fingertips. And as the story gets darker, so too do the films. The musical score becomes more mature (also probably just a consequence of the times as music trends developed; to me the scores from John Williams definitely sound orchestral, while the others, especially Alexandre Desplat, sound clean to the point where the orchestra is being hidden??? That makes no sense lol).

Anyway I’m over sharing because m friends are definitely tired of hearing me examine HP every year and have heard these takes before but the thoughts won’t get outta my head and I need to go to bed.

#harry potter #dramione #romione #multishipper #nostaliga #just some thoughts

[spikybanana]

@wolfstarmicrofic - prompt: fireside - guys I'm officially less than 1 week behind - masterpost

Sirius helped heal the young boy the best he could, before he and Remus brought him home. His siblings, a boy and a girl, cried and shouted angrily, but his mother was terrifyingly aplomb. 

“I see.” She only said, like she’d already accepted the fact. Perhaps it was all she’d thought about the whole night, when her son didn’t come home. Perhaps she “already knew” it would happen, the way all of the village seemed to just “know” about the future.

“I’m sorry.” Remus said, looking at the ground.

“It’s not your fault, Remus.” she murmured, taking the boy from Remus’ arms, and swiftly slipped away.

Now, they sat in the stone cottage, by the fireside, waiting, as the mother tended to the boy. Sirius watched the silence strain in Remus’ shoulders, and spoke up. “Remus. It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” He snapped.

“Do you?”

And Remus didn’t reply again. 

At some point, the youngest boy of the pack came calling, asking to talk to the boy who’d just been turned. He snuck along walls, and never opened a door wider than he needed to slip through. From across the room, he recognised Sirius as the stranger who gave him the cards, a gift from outside this world, and smiled timidly at him, despite the sadness in his eyes. 

And Sirius couldn’t help it. He saw Remus, like he did in every single one of the young boys— their conscientious softness, so quietly brave about the hurt that got buried deeper and deeper as they grew older. He wondered if Remus thought the same. He wondered what Remus thought at all, when all of them looked up to him so much. 

The boy crossed the room to Remus, picked up his hand, and silently led him towards the inner room where the new cub was probably just waking up. When he stood up, Remus gestured for Sirius to follow as well. So all three of them crowded into the tiny nursery, Remus and Sirius staying by the door, while the boy walked to sit on the younger boy’s bed. 

“Hullo.” He said, and his friend eagerly sat up, trying not to wince at the soreness in his shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright, just lie down.”

He laid on his front next to the other boy, and reached out to take the other’s hand.

“You went looking for the moon, didn’t you?”

The boy looked down and seemed to curl in on himself, but his friend’s voice had not a hint of accusation.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I did too. It’s not your fault, you hear me?” He echoed the repeated refrain, and his unconvincing attempt to sound stern with his childish voice made the other boy smile.

Still, his voice was on the brink of tears when he said, “Then whose fault is it?”

“The wolf who attacked you! And no one else. He is the only one who did a bad thing. Not you.” He asserted confidently, then continued, “And don’t you ever worry about being lonely or sad, because we’ve got the pack. We’re adopting you, you’re a child of the moon now.”

“A what?” The boy frowned through sniffles. 

“Moony. You’re Moony.” he grinned toothily. “It’s what the older boys had called me— littlest Moony of the pack. It’s cute, isn’t it? But you’re Moony now.”

“Oh.” 

And to Sirius, it was the quietest, most heartbreaking sound. The surprise, the hope.

“Welcome to the pack, Moony.” That was Remus’ voice, softly spoken from where he’d leaned against the door frame. The look on his face, the thousand shades of tenderness, of grief, was silently knocking Sirius’ heart into a hundred pieces.

But the boy, Moony, as he had just been named, looked towards Remus glowingly, with such plain admiration. Slowly, his mouth drew, probably for the first time since the attack, into a small, tentative smile. At that, Remus only smiled back. He nodded at Sirius and the other boy, signalling for them to give the two a moment alone with each other. Sirius retreated from the room. As the boy passed him, Remus ruffled his hair, hesitated for half a moment before he bent down and embraced him, and whispered sincerely. 

“Thank you.”

#sorry about the spam today!! #once upon a green haze #my writing #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar fanfiction #sci fi au

[siriuslychessi]

Blackinnon Fest Day 01

“If one day I decided to leave, would you run away with me?”

For @blackinnonfest I'll be compiling them here: AO3 | FF

Christmas Break was something Marlene loved, she got to spend time with her family in Scotland, the siblings that graduated, and the new niblings that came during her time at Hogwarts.

It was a warm and festive time that she got to enjoy in the middle of a stressful year. 

Of course every family had her ups and downs, but going home had an invigorating effect on her. Maybe because she adored to be the favourite aunt, or maybe because she was still pretty much a daddy’s girl, even nearing her 16th birthday, but she found it special and it replenished the battery for her to go back and face the fuckery that was Hogwarts pureblood population.

She had spent her day with her friends, unpacking, catching up, promising herself that she wouldn’t be one of those people that would change as soon as she had a boyfriend. 

Were they even in a relationship?

She assumed they were, but they never said anything clear in that regard, and she had pushed Sirius enough to date, she didn’t want to push more than that. 

At least not yet.

It didn’t dawn on her, until she entered the Common Room, that Winter Break wasn’t as thrilling for everyone else as it was to her. 

While she was bubbly and eager to talk about Lily’s new neighbour, and Mary’s fling, Sirius was sitting alone, near the fireplace, just staring at the fire, like all his energy had been taken in a swift of a wand. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t look for him earlier, he had been with James and the boys. She had seen him laugh, they shared a few moments with all the friend group, together. But now, in the almost empty Common Room, Sirius looked depleted, even sad.

Something that didn’t agree with Marlene at that moment. 

She excused herself from the girls, so that they could catch up when she went out to bed, which both Lily and Mary knew would be rather late, or not happen at all. However, they understood as Marlene went to sit next to Sirius. 

“Hullo love, something on your mind?” she said, making herself fit in the space between Sirius and his arm.

Sirius, who was mostly energetic, barely moved as she adjusted. He was still reliving some of the things that happened at home, wondering how it got to that. Even if he hated the bastards now it didn’t used to be like that, he remembered once liking being at Grimmauld, but now… the constant struggle just to have a normal conversation, the repetitive standards he had to fulfil even when he didn’t want or care for them, chipped away at his tough exterior and the child inside that just wanted his parents to see him for who he was and not what they wanted him to be.

He tried to play it down, to make it seem like he didn’t care, that he was just a Gryffindor, brave through and through, but some nights, like that one, it was simply too much for a 16th year old to carry with the burden of the world. 

They stayed like that for a few moments, it was odd that they weren’t bickering or snogging, just sitting there, watching the fire burn. Not a word to be said, just the crackling of the wood and the distant buzz of the few people still in the Common Room getting ready to go to their dorms.

“If one day I decided to leave, would you run away with me?”

It startled Marlene when he spoke, it was softer than anything that he ever said to her, but it spoke louder than many of the things that he said.

She looked at his hollowed eyes, usually there was a spark of mischief behind them, but not at the moment. All she could see was rage and hopelessness. It broke her.

“That depends, do we bring you emotional support boyfriend with us? I feel you wouldn’t last a day without James.” it was an attempt at teasing, maybe to bring him back from the darkness, maybe to just distract him from the intrusive thoughts. 

A small smile appeared on Sirius' left side, it was tiny but it was progress. 

He had to give it to her, she had a great way to bring him back to himself, to remind him that there were people that see something more in him than an heir and a way to carry on with the family's delusional ideas. 

“He is the one dependent on me, the poor bloke already ditched his girlfriend. I think he’s gonna propose soon, do you think I should do my nails for the occasion?” 

“Oi! No one is going to propose to my boyfriend, that’s weird!” she laughed, not realising what she said, just happy that he wasn’t brooding anymore.

“Boyfriend?” He asked after a few moments, not sure if he heard her right, they never discussed it, they never talked much, they mostly snogged, but he guessed that after almost 3 months of that they needed to be more than just a fling.

“I… oh… we don’t have to… I mean I thought we were there but if…” she stumbled, she didn’t want to pressure him into this, they were supposed to be having fun, just teenagers, even if she wanted more she would rather be slow than nothing.

She was about to defend herself some more, to explain that they didn’t have to, that things could be the same way as they had before. But her lips failed her on the account that Sirius’ lips were on top of hers at the moment.

They weren’t forceful, they weren’t trying to take more than they were given, but they were firm and she found herself relaxing a bit.

“I’ll go break up with James in a bit, I’ve got a girl now, can’t make her jealous.” he smirked at her, making McKinnon roll her eyes.

“Like I would be jealous of him, I’ve got a better sense of style. Quidditch jerseys can only do so much.” she joked, and Sirius laughed, that wonderful loud and contagious laugh. 

#blackinnon #blackinnofest2023 #sirius black & marlene mckinnon #sirius black #marlene mckinnon

[camelliacats]

The Weight of a Name

More on the Weasley fam bloodline, since Septimus needs to fill Cedrella in on some things. ;3

Fic: "The Weight of a Name" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: established!Septimus Weasley/Cedrella Weasley, Arthur's brothers, & an Arthur cameo in a way XD

Rating: K

Words: ~1,870

Additional info: romance, family, fluff, Maydayverse, pre-Marauder era, 3rd person POV

Summary: As their family continues to grow, Septimus enlightens Cedrella of the ups and downs of the Weasley bloodline.

      When Septimus arrives outside his home with a POP!, the tension from a long day of haggling with customers who know better than to fall for sales tricks vanishes from his shoulders, and he eases into a smile. When he steps onto the path and takes the final step onto the welcome mat (a handmade wedding gift from Aunt Pea, well-worn beyond readability now but well-loved) in front of the door and hears children's thunderous footsteps on the other side, his smile stretches from ear to ear.

      But, when he catches his wife's shushing the boys, Septimus can't help but stifle a laugh, even when the door swings open and his family catches him red-handed—er, red-faced, that is. "Er, hullo there."

      "Welcome home," Cedrella says, though she purses her lips and raises one blond eyebrow, meaning she can see how entertained he is. "Rough day at work?"

      "Easier I reckon than what you fared, luv," Septimus says, leaning across the threshold to peck that bemused smile.

      And good thing he leans, too. He's not about to go anywhere with the two weights that anchor themselves to either of his legs in that moment, ignorant of their parents' stern looks.

      "Ah, boys? Might I come in?"

      The eldest, Cyril, has the Black family smirk down at the precocious age of six…plus he's getting to be a wee bit large for this show of affection, reedy though he might be. "Maybe," he says.

      Bilius, four years old, mimics his brother, right down to the way he says, "Maybe," but the chubby-cheeked lad is too happy to keep the bit going. He bursts into a fit of giggles right after, which Cyril catches when their father walks into the house with them attached this way.

      Cedrella rolls her eyes and shuts the door behind them. "Oh, good grief! It's been a ruckus in here all day long, Sep. You'd think Christmas was tomorrow, not weeks behind us."

      Septimus just manages to shrug off his outer cloak with Cedrella's help. Then he gives each of his sons a long look. "Boys, is this true? You didn't let Mum have her peace and quiet?"

      Cyril switches from rambunctious to guilty in a flash, his cheeks faintly colored red just like his hair (their firstborn is so equal parts them, Septimus thinks, from looks down to personality). He detaches himself from Septimus' left leg, clasps his hands behind his back, and bows his head to Cedrella. "…sorry, Mum."

      Cedrella purses her lips again, but it's to stifle a chuckle, Septimus knows, especially when she locks eyes with her husband. She draws their oddly meek child to her middle and hugs him tight. "Oh, Cy… Thank you, dear. I appreciate it."

      Partly to mimic Cyril, partly to behave, partly for the reward of Cedrella's warm hug, Bilius follows suit, springing up with an "I'm sorry, too!"

      Now the parents do laugh, and Septimus tousles his boys' hair. "All right, all right… Why don't you two head upstairs and tidy up then? Give Mum some of that quiet time for a bit now."

      "But supper—"

      "Supper will be done shortly," Cedrella assures their growing boys. Her eyes follow them upstairs, but then she turns to Septimus with a haggard sigh, half collapsing in his arms. "…it will, but. Sep, I dunno how I can make it another month or so."

      At that, Septimus steadies her with one arm and drops his free hand to her round belly. His touch doesn't linger long before he feels the kick. Internally, he heaves a sigh of relief as he leads Cedrella to the nearby armchair.

      He doesn't doubt that they'll greet a new baby next month, when February brings new chills and the promises of spring around the corner. But he also wonders…

      As if sensing his hesitation, Cedrella lifts her lolling head from the back of the chair and reaches for his hand, their fingertips brushing in her tiredness. "Septimus?"

      He musters a smile for her. "Cedrella?"

      She shoots him a look. All this time, and it'll never change, him replying with her name when she simply beckons with his. "Something on your mind?" She tugs on his ring finger and taps his wedding band for emphasis.

      "Oh, not that worry again," he insists as he pulls up the ottoman to sit in front of her.

      Cedrella lowers her voice. "I know it's not ideal, but. So my parents don't see me as their own anymore. And…Callidora and Charis stopped answering my owls years ago." She tries so desperately to feign strength, but her dark eyes drop to her lap (…well, to her belly) at talk of her immediate family. "But not everyone in the house of Black has the same opinion. There have been others before me who've gone against the family's unappealing 'ideals,' and I certainly won't be the last. So, if we're stumbling a bit right now, Sep, I know I can find some sort of support. True family helps true family."

      He winces. He doesn't disagree, and it's a value she shares with his own father, funnily enough. But Septimus has done…all right to support them, on his own ability. A fifth mouth to feed will make things extra tight, yes, but they will manage, and without the charity of the family who excised his wife from their family tree. Still… "Cedrella…," Septimus starts with a sigh in his voice, "I…never told you the origin of my name, did I?"

      The non sequitur takes Cedrella by surprise. "Sorry?"

      Septimus smiles and pauses to let his eyes rove over her, tracing the subtle wave of her dark blond locks before the knot in her hair and sinking into the depth of her stone brown eyes ("Gray eyes run in the Black blood," she told him back in fifth year after their first kiss, "but mine don't quite want to be gray"). He muses on how she used to be sallow, too, like her sisters, their first few years in Hogwarts before she started rebelling and flying during her breaks and eventually befriending "that Weasley boy." But now? Now she spends time with her family outside and radiates warmth around the clock, as evidenced by her rosy cheeks, upon which his gaze rests now.

      "…Sep…?"

      "Ah, right. Sorry." Plucked from his appraisal, he cups her cheek in his hand and runs his thumb along her cheekbone, and the feel of her calms him. So, starting again, Septimus clears his throat. "My name normally would've gone to a seventh son."

      Cedrella furrows her brow. Of course she's confused; they both know he's an only child.

      "My parents never had or lost any before me… And I'm not the seventh Weasley generation."

      "No, your family's older than mine, even."

      "Yeah, color me surprised by that one." Septimus takes another breath and slides both of his hands into Cedrella's. "You…met my parents and all the assorted uncles and aunts and cousins at our wedding. My grandparents, too."

      Cedrella chuckles here. "The Weasleys are a big but warm and welcoming bunch," she remarks.

      "Cedrella, we weren't always that way. Actually—we aren't always that way. The big bit, not the warm and welcoming."

      Once more, she furrows her brow, over his correction of tense, but it sinks so low over her dark eyes that it borders on glare (in this, she's almost the spitting image of her elder sister, who never lost a chance to scoff whenever Septimus passed them in the school's corridors). "Septimus," she warns.

      He squeezes her fingers lightly but doesn't let go. "Look, it's. Sort of superstition, one might say?"

      "'Superstition'? Was there magic involved?"

      "Well, I know how you feel about Divination…"

      Cedrella sighs. "If ever they nix a subject from the curriculum—" She squeezes her husband's hands in response. "Nevertheless, continue."

      Septimus bites his bottom lip and offers her a consoling smile. "…it began generations ago, y'know. And they thought it was a fluke, at first. It wasn't until Great-Great-Granddad Trick that they believed in it for real."

      "Believed in what, Sep?"

      "Well…that, through a combination of Arithmancy, Divination, and moderately sound business advice…the Weasley family could, would be fruitful. Just. Never all at once."

      "How?"

      He sighs. "We've reserved numerical names for ages, and they've been the ones with large families."

      Cedrella blinks in the quiet of the house. Off in the distance upstairs, they hear the boys shuffling about in their room.

      Septimus knows his wife, though, because they've been together since their school days, so he knows when she needs just a little more information before she reacts. He swallows a lump in his throat and cautiously proceeds: "So Old Trick…er, Triconius, that is…had a handful of sons. They didn't all have families, but one of his sons had a single son of his own, Grandpa Quincy. Grandpa Quincy was an only child like Trick but had many sons, the second of which was my dad, who had…only me." He stops there and raises his eyebrows.

      Some days she feigns ignorance on account of the hormones, and Septimus happily takes care of this and that around the house, because a first or third pregnancy can't be easy on Cedrella. But her eyes are sharp and clear right now as she pieces things together. "You mentioned Arithmancy."

      He nods.

      "So—these names aren't just a quirk of your family, like star names in mine?"

      "Quirk? Somewhat. Done entirely on purpose with full intent? Yes."

      Finally, her mouth pops open in a small "o." "Then…Cyril and Bilius and our new baby…"

      "I want whatever size family you want, Ced. But the magic's in the family's favor, just so you know." His shoulders sag, unsure of what to expect next.

      Cedrella frowns. But, after a beat, she ventures, "Well, you've told me before that it's been ages since a Weasley witch was born into the family, right?"

      He perks up at that. "Yes. Loads of wizards for generations."

      "Perhaps it's time to wish for a witch, then," Cedrella states with a small pat of her belly. "Although, I have a feeling it's a boy," she admits a second later.

      Septimus quirks an eyebrow at her. "Then what now?"

      Cedrella pecks his cheek and leans back in the armchair with a content sigh. "Then we do what we do best: We raise another healthy, happy boy. But, this time, Septimus, we'll warn him and his brothers about the family tradition…and perhaps we'll let them decide their own fates and families and names when the times come." She tugs his left hand and his ring finger once more, cracking one eye open and sharing some of her confidence with him with a secret smile.

      …and, honestly? It works. Her expression and gesture convey what she won't say, that perhaps family tradition is something not quite keeping the Weasley family alive but bogging them down. And, if there's an expert on flying free of their family's musts, it's Cedrella (formerly Black) Weasley.

      So Septimus shares in her smile. Because he's never been very good at flying, but he's always been prepared for something brand-new or terrifying so long as Cedrella's at his side.

Done for the If You Dare Challenge (for prompt #806: deep roots) in the HPFC forum on FFN. THESE. THESE ARE THE HCS I thought I could squeeze into "The Future of the Bloodline" and was so woefully wrong, *lol*. I long ago decided that Bilius was one of Arthur's two brothers, and I only recently gave a name to his other one; here, too, I wrote for the second time (first was ynusly ch79) that Arthur's their youngest, so that was fun. But just…egads. The idea of the Weasleys being a long, established, big family but how marinated in my brain for a long time and didn't properly form until my recent Septdrella (and some Prewett) hcs took shape. Now, me being a maths major, I enjoyed naming some Weasley forebears, since "Septimus" has the root for "seven," so does "Quincy" have the one for "five" and "Triconius" for "three" (all prime numbers, btw, altho "Triconius" is of my own making and mixes Greek and Latin, but we're gonna breeze over that XP). Whether the fam members in btwn are named for "four" and for "six," respectively…eh, couldn't decide. XD Anywho! Cedrella has been warned: They rly could've had a larger fam…but I like how her rebel streak gave Septimus some confidence that things don't have to be that way. The Black family has traditions that ought to be retired, so perhaps the Weasley family did, too! Final thoughts: The hc of the Weasleys being older than the Blacks is derived from the etymology of the surnames, and it's implied that the Weasley disdain for Divination is inherent (Ron got it from Grandma Cedrella XD).

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

#hp #harry potter #septdrella #septimus weasley #cedrella black #<2500 #romance #family #fluff #maydayverse #rated: G #older generations #3rd POV