#and they've been around a lot longer then you have

[baphometsss]

The Inquisitor's need to hear from Rook about how Solas helped them rescue the Dalish Clan is really interesting if they're Dalish, and especially so if you play as romanced Lavellan.

By his own admission in Trespasser, Solas didn't see anyone around him as true people in the beginning of DAI. In fact, he kills Felassan for refusing to help him any longer and suggesting that the modern elves deserved a chance.

It's why the Inquisitor needs to hear it from Rook, that he actually did save their lives. 'He's always thinking about where it ends.' He wants to be remembered as more than what the Dalish currently remember him as. He wants his sacrifices to mean something to the modern elves, for them to recognise the evils of the Evanuris and see that they are not worth worshipping. It stung him badly to see that his legacy was just as the great adversary, because it suggests that the elves who remained after the fall of Elvhenan did not think much of him, even after all he did for them. That one codex from the Vir Dirthara in Trespasser shows that people knew what Fen'harel did and it was viewed almost like an act of terrorism.

The fact that the Inquisitor goes on to call out Solas's prideful nature reflects that. He can't bear to be seen as truly evil because then he's as bad as his enemies, then all he did was for nothing.

He calls the Dalish 'our people' to an elven Rook, and I don't think he's lying, there. He didn't really have any reason to save the Dalish Clan. He could've let them die. He even describes saving them as a privilege, almost like he's atoning for what he did to the elves by protecting their children. Of course, he knows a lot more people will die when the veil comes down, and it doesn't make it any easier , as he says in Trespasser.

It's interesting for the Inquisitor to bring this up though, because it shows that they've been wondering if their time together in the Inquisition had any effect on him at all, if their pursuit of him over the years has changed him in any way. They're looking for tangible signs that he doubts himself, and that he actually wants his mind to be changed.

A romanced Lavellan will say that he forbade them from following him because he didn't want them to see what he would become, but that they don't believe this is the true reason. They know him better than anyone, they got closer to the real him than most. They know he doesn't really want to do it. They know he can't accept the notion that all the terrible things he's done have been for nothing. They know he's acting from a place of grief and trauma. Saving the Dalish Clan was just the proof they had been looking for.

[johanna-swann]

Sorry if this feels vent-y but I am kinda done with the ppl that keep blaming Buck for the break up and absolving Tommy completely. I get so many saw him breaking up with Buck to be OOC but to go as far as to claim that it's Buck's fault for moving too fast when it's clearly about Tommy's insecurity is a bit fucked up. I have yet to see a person talking about how it was Tommy who fucked things up, if it was someone else acting out based on insecurity they would have been eviscerated and rightfully blamed but not Tommy ig he's a perfect angel who even if he hurt others it's not his fault for being fragile and insecure.

Well, personally I blame the writers for the break-up, but maybe that's just me.

Jokes aside, the simple answer is that everyone probably has their own personal opinion on this. Depending on your personal point of view, your own experiences with past relationships and so on, you will sympathise with one character more than the other or maybe with both of them equally. It's not a "Team Buck or Team Tommy" situation, we have two men here who both care about each other very much, but who also both bring issues to the table which the other one doesn't know about. It's not a cut and dried case, there's plenty of blame to go around. I have a lot more thoughts about this and I will take this as an excuse to rant, so settle in and buckle up.

The thing about Buck is that we see his thought process. We know which steps he went through, we know his train of thought, we know he's serious about Tommy. So it's easy for us to empathise and understand his journey up to the actual break-up. It's also easy for us to pick up familiar patterns though. Like Buck jumping all in all at once and putting his foot in his mouth a little in the process.

Because Buck definitely shouldn't have dropped "I want you to move in with me" on Tommy like that. As far as we know they've never talked about this topic before, they haven't exchanged "I love you"s yet, Buck doesn't even know if he loves Tommy. In my opinion he should've approached the subject very differently. He could've said: "I've been thinking about the future and I think we should talk about maybe living together in the not so far future." Have an open conversation about it instead of presenting Tommy with a fait accompli. At the very least he should've phrased it as a question, not as an "I want you to do x" statement. Not at this point in the relationship.

But all in all Buck's words and actions are somewhat relatable or at least comprehensible and show that he wants a future with Tommy.

On the other side of the break-up we have Tommy. The only piece of information about his dating history we have is Abby - a relationship that was never quite real, that he probably still feels ashamed about a little and that happened, what, 9 years earlier? At least 9 years. (The timeline is not lining the time as it should, somebody please check if Tim Minear knows how a calendar works.)

My point is: We don't know what Tommy is looking for in a relationship. We don't know if he's been hurt by a serious romantic relationship before. We don't know what he wants for his future in the long run. All the things that made us root for Buck and for this relationship to succeed - we know none of that about Tommy. But we do know that he thinks Buck has the power to break his heart. We know he already likes (loves?) Buck so much that he's terrified what this will do to him if he lets it continue. He'd rather turn tail and run than risk getting hurt by Buck. At least this way he's in control of the situation.

[This is very much the reason they broke up. Buck's mistake was a stupid mistake, but fixable. Tommy ended the relationship and ran. You can't fix something that's already over with someone who's no longer there. But I digress.]

A lot of what we get from their canon dialogue and overall relationship still doesn't add up. If Tommy thought he was just Buck's starter boyfriend, then why did he give Buck a second chance in the first place? If he thought this was never going to get serious, why did he agree to go to his sister's wedding with Buck after only one failed date? If he was afraid of liking Buck too much and getting his heart broken, why did he stick around for 6 months? 6 months is a very long time for a relationship you think will never go anywhere anyway.

It doesn't make sense and even throughout the scene where Tommy very abruptly dumps Buck they framed Tommy as a considerate guy with a big heart who truly cares about Buck. So we assume that there must be a reason. That something must've happened to Tommy at some point which makes him believe that this sort of relationship is not something he can have and that he can't trust this happiness.

If Tommy had a healthy sense of self-worth to go with his genuine feelings for Buck, he probably would've said something like: "Slow down, let's talk this through before we make any decisions." He wouldn't have run. And that absolutely was Tommy's mistake. Yes, Buck was a little over-eager upon discovering that he really can see a future with Tommy, but it was Tommy's responsibility to communicate his thoughts, feelings, needs and doubts. Instead he came up with some half-baked excuse and bailed.

TL;DR: They both made a mistake here. While Buck's mistake was relatively harmless in nature and not the one that put the final nail in the coffin, his mistake was definitely the more stupid one though. Buck fell back into an old pattern and thoughtlessly made a huge jump while just assuming Tommy would jump with him. His mistake was fixable and they could've probably talked this out, but Buck was a little reckless here and didn't really consider Tommy's side. He was too caught up in his own enthusiasm which, again, understandable. But still a little inconsiderate tbh.

Tommy's mistake came from a place of deep seated hurt. Yes, his mistake had the bigger impact, but it's the kind of mistake you empathise with instead of roll your eyes at. He was a coward, but he was a hurt coward.

We've all been there at some point, probably. Maybe not in the context of a relationship, but I've been a hurt coward almost every day of my life, self-sabotage is my second middle name. I feel for Tommy here. And I also feel for Buck of course, he barely even registered what was happening and then Tommy was already out the door. But when we break it down to the mistakes they made Buck's mistake gave me "not again you idiot" vibes and Tommy's mistake gave me "I'm so sorry, who hurt you?" vibes.

[mucking-faori]

Venting here but it's been deeply frustrating since the treaty principles bill came out to see just how wilfully misinformed a lot of people are. I mean, I expected it of the right, have all my life, and I /know/ a lot wasn't taught in schools, but you know what? Most NZ schools don't teach you deep leninism or about the electoral college, and yet I keep running into kiwi commies who can explain roe v Wade back to front but not who Hone Heke was.

This one time, it's become a social media trend, and I certainly appreciate it right now, but will it stick around when this is no longer a hot button issue? Will people examine the racism running deeply through this country beyond tiktok history rundowns and taking selfies with their meme signs?

Kiwis are so proud of our history of resistance and how good "we" have been to our indigenous people. "We" ensured the language stayed alive. "We" ensured Maori had land rights. But Te Piringa at the office never /complained/ about how we say her name, so we don't /really/ need to learn. And oh, this brown boy is so well /spoken/, using big words like "egregious"!

This refusal to confront uncomfortable truths is partly what allowed David Seymour and the rest of the coalition to stir up so much misinformation and hate. Too many new Zealanders don't know enough basic national history to immediately refute what Seymour is saying because they've spent their lives comfortable not knowing, and now they're playing catch up.

I'm praying people catch up and /keep learning after that/. After Maori politics, and the whole Maori /world/ stops being a trend. Even if something else happens in america that makes pakeha feel less uncomfortable to learn about because NZ looks great by comparison.

Anyway. Peace and love peace and love. Thanks for reading my rant. Check out Te Ara dot com.

[atlasdoe]

I find it so funny when i see Regulus, Barty and Evan stans throwing up over the "Slytherin boys" side of the fandom.

Just because you hc your slytherin boys as gay doesn't make you any different to them

(it also doesn't mean that they're committing a crime by including Regulus, Barty and Evan. They fit the criteria perfectly)

[ffsg0jo]

same universe as this post. you don't have to read it beforehand, but it helps 🤭

even when yuuji's much older and has his own room, he's still woken up by sukuna's old man noises™ in the bathroom at 7am.

the poor, almost adult just wants to sleep in for a little longer and rest his weary bones, but sukuna's snorting and coughing and hacking his life out in the bathroom down the hall.

yuuji doesn't know how you do it, to be honest. between the snoring and old man-isms, the way he seems to have a permanent frown on his face. you've been by his uncle's side for as long as he can remember, acting as a mother figure to yuuji. always patient and caring, standing your ground against sukuna who can be bull-headed sometimes (a lot of times), and ultimately doing everything you can for the little family they've created.

he truthfully doesn't remember life without you, and quite frankly, he doesn't want to remember. ever since he was a toddler, you were his sun, yuuji your sunflower, absorbing your warmth and love.

you stayed by their side throughout everything; the ups, the downs, the twisty turvies. never once have you tried to replace his biological mum or even referred to yourself as his mother. but yuuji sees the way your eyes shine with pride and joy when looking at him.

he can see it in your face now as he walks into the kitchen, yawning. you notice him immediately while plating up everyone’s breakfast and attempting to escape sukuna's embrace, who's clinging onto your back like the leech he is.

“dammit woman, just let me hold you,” he growls, tightening him arms around you and kissing up and down your neck.

“sukuna,” you gasp, “not in front of yuuji!”

the giant of a man slowly lifts his face up from your neck and turns to side-eye yuuji. he lets go of you and sighs, grabbing the plates you’ve prepared, setting them on the table.  

“mornin’ brat, sleep well?” he asks yuuji.

“not with all your snoring, he didn’t.” yuuji laughs at your response.

“i don’t snore woman.”

you and yuuji share a look, completely in disbelief at the man’s denial. he’s woken himself up with how loud he is, many, many times. neither of you can believe he has the audacity to stand there and lie with a straight face.

you both scoff and yuuji sits down at the table, in no mood to deal with his uncle’s nonsense this early in the morning. you move towards yuuji planting a soft kiss on his cheek and ruffling his hair.

“sorry he woke you up yuuji,” you say warmly, kissing him once more.

“if anything i should be apologising to you, you’re the one that has to put up with him for the rest of your life,” the boy responds, looking up at you solemnly, genuinely sorry for you.

“i can hear ya both,” sukuna rumbles, mouth full of egg. “anyways, finish eating and make sure you’re ready by 10”

yuuji turns to you in confusion, and sees your face light up, practically buzzing with excitement.  

“where we going?” yuuji asks

you wrap your arms around him tighter and press his cheek onto yours. he basks in your affection and leans impossibly closer towards you.

“it’s a surprise,” you giggle.

yuuji’s face twists in confusion as he stares at the shiny, brand-new motorbike in front of him. it was beautiful, and he’s always dreamed of having that exact model, but he was confused at to why they were there at the dealership. is this some cruel joke? he looks at you though, and shakes the thought out of his head. you would never do that to him.

“you like it, yuuji,” you ask, a broad smile on your face, eyes shining with glee.

 “s’ beautiful,” he nods in response.

his uncle pats his back and lifts his hand up, his own tattooed hand pressing something sharp and chunky into his palm. yuuji looks down and sees… keys?

“she’s all yours,” sukuna smirks, revelling in the disbelief on yuuji’s face. he seems to be frozen for a good 20 seconds, just processing what he’s heard. you and your husband share a smile. it suddenly hits yuuji that the motobike is all his, and his face splits into the widest grin.

“i love you both so much” he whispers, tearing up and throwing himself into sukuna’s arms and an arm around your neck.

the man steadies himself as you both tumble into him, heart suddenly panging at how big his nephew has gotten. it seemed like only yesterday when he was barely up to his shins, and now he was eye level?

sukuna hides his teary smile in yuuji’s hair, tightening one arm around you and softly rubbing his nephews back with his hand.

“yeah yeah, love ya too brat.”

© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Oh god exhausted Dean in season 5 on Bobby's couch nodding off on Cas's shoulder after a night of insomnia spent talking. Bobby spying them as he quietly comes down for a beer (he's got plenty of shit going on in his head too). Castiel looking with such careful awe at Dean's sleeping face. Oh. So it's like that.

Castiel only flicks his eyes up to Bobby's when he lays a blanket over Dean, and he doesn't change position. Good.

"You taking care of my boy?" Bobby says, quiet as he can without it turning into a whisper (which would definitely wake Dean).

It takes a beat, Castiel's gaze tracking down to Dean, but he answers, "Yes." With appropriate decisiveness.

"He's put a lot of trust in you. We all have."

"Yes. I do not bear it lightly."

"Right answer.

"I feel sometimes...I fear our efforts will not be enough. I fear that certain people are becoming too precious for me to lose."

"Welcome to humanity, angel."

Cas shakes his head with a faint smile, suddenly looking more like a guy you might see at the gas station than a celestial being, but then he settles back into austere. "I am welcomed every time I complain. I wish there were less to complain about."

"You and every unlucky sucker on this craphole we call a planet. There's plenty good around too though."

A snuffle from Dean which turns into half a snore into Cas's shoulder get both of their attention, so Bobby only catches a flicker of Cas’s smile before he schools it neutral. The air's so sweet, Bobby's going to end up with toothache if he stays here too much longer.

"He'll thank you to wake him up before Sam gets down," Bobby tells him, and Cas’s nod is serious. Maybe he already knows. How often has this happened? What's that boy been telling him? For his own peace of mind, he adds: "Ain't nothing to be ashamed of, you hear that? Alls I'm saying is to be careful."

Castiel's head tips to the side just a little, and he gets that look Dean complains of all the time, like he's examining the contents of your soul through the eyes. Then he blinks, and they've reached an understanding. "Thank you."

Bobby waves it away, then slopes back towards bed with a final "'Night Cas. Give my regards to Seeping Beauty."

On his way up the stairs, he hears Castiel murmer, "Goodnight, Dean." and he huffs a tired laugh. Maybe they're not going to do too bad out of this Apocalypse after all.

[aphel1on]

the longer i look at this panel the more deranged i feel about it. this is environmental storytelling at its finest.

the eodio stand-in doll in particular makes me crazy. where did it come from? did thistle just pop into the village like "hey ungrateful wretches, one of you needs to make me a life-sized mannequin, For Reasons". did he make it himself? seems quite unlikely, yet the possibility haunts me. i mean, i guess there could've been one just lying around the dungeon somewhere. it's the act of replacement itself that really gets to me. (edit: it's been pointed out to me that the eodio doll also could have been left behind as part of delgal's escape plan. slightly different kind of madness but tbh, just as funny-sad to me if that happened and thistle went Ok, Guess That's Eodio Now.)

both the wives are there too. we know very little about them, which makes me tend to assume thistle wasn't all that close to them, but they're still included. when did they end up here? did he kick their souls out of their bodies at some point, or were they among those who left their bodies voluntarily to try and escape? when did yaad become an effective orphan, delgal an effective widower? women in the margins of the narrative, tell me your stories!

and the fact that they're surrounded with the living paintings, which thistle habitually wanders through to relive the past. this truly is his inner sanctum, his place of utmost comfort... and it may as well be a tomb.

that panel is so creepy when you first see it. just a sense of "ohh jeez, there's a lot to unpack there".

and actually, yeah, it remains creepy from pretty much any angle, but the more you think about it the more it's also tragic.

this is where many of thistle's happiest moments took place. everything he had in that picture is now gone. first he lost their warm regard, then one-by-one their bodies became hollow shells. before the end, none of the people here needed or enjoyed food anymore. the dinner table, as a center of both family life and nutrition, became obsolete.

a line from someone else's excellent post about thistle has stuck in my head ever since i read it: "to eat is to live, but to eat together is to be loved". to me, this is the sentiment and symbolism at the core of everything that happens in dungeon meshi.

it makes this bit all the sadder and more disturbing.

there's several things to note here:

thistle has gone from seated and eating with them as part of the family, to a lonely and ominous figure hovering over delgal's shoulder

eodio is conspicuously absent from view, and his body would have been a husk by now, but yaad says parents, which forces me to assume that they are sitting at the table with eodio's soulless body, hidden under yaad's speech bubble

they're not actually eating anything.

those plates are empty. you could assume that they've already finished eating, maybe, but yaad refers to it as sitting around the dinner table. in fact, he compares it to what he's currently doing; sitting at the dinner table watching the touden party eat, not eating anything himself.

it paints a pretty grim picture. for some time even after the fantasy had fallen apart, even after there was no need or desire to eat, they kept gathering around the dinner table. at that point, i'd guess only so as not to provoke thistle's wrath.

but even that last happened a long, long time ago.

this is a callback to what senshi said in the golden kingdom: the reason the people keep maintaining their fields and silverware and so forth is that they need to do so in order to stay sane.

paradoxically, the dinner table is the most striking evidence of thistle's insanity, and at the same time, it's the only anchor to sanity he has left.

he kept enforcing the ritual of dinner together long after it lost significance. when even that was impossible- because almost everyone's souls were gone- he kept their bodies at the table anyway. it's fine. it's fine! he's protected them, physically, just like he set out to. they're all still breathing. at a glance it looks like they could wake up and resume dinner at any moment. like this, it's easy to pretend.

isn't that what being a dungeon lord is, at the core of it? rejecting reality, staying in the prison of one's impossible desires. it's just one long game of pretend.

thistle did all this to protect his loved ones. no matter how obsessive and twisted he became in pursuit of that over the years, his core motivation never changed. this is all he has left of that dream: his loved ones' bodies gathered around the locus of their happiest memories together. like this, he can tell himself he's succeeded.

when eodio's body vanished with delgal's soul in it- when he couldn't even have that anymore... well.

i want to reach through the screen and shake him. no, they're not, thistle. THISTLE, NO, THEY'RE NOT! the doll of eodio is the closest thing to him in this panel, underlining the point. when that final illusion was shattered, he became completely unable to cope with reality.

therefore casually forgetting the creepy eodio doll isn't real.

thistle isn't stupid. eodio's body vanished at the same time as delgal's soul. shortly after, more adventurers came pouring in than ever before. deep down, he knows what happened. if he didn't, being confronted with the truth by mithrun wouldn't have made him panic so hard he summoned chimera falin to the first floor.

yet still...

he absolutely can't admit that to himself. he is clinging to the last scraps of the illusion with everything he has.

this is a dungeon lord at the end of desire. this is a lotus-eater machine left running long after its conclusion. this is mithrun lying listlessly in his bed, his replica lover having given up any pretense of being human. the illusion is all that's left. (an illusion is all it ever was.) thistle and the citizens of the golden kingdom- they're ghosts just as much as the ones who wander the dungeon floors. and if it weren't for thistle sealing the lion away, he would've been eaten by it long ago.

all of this encapsulated by that single panel of the dinner table.

[teaboot]

I do not have Boy Knowledge to trade, but can I ask for dinner party hosting tips???

Sure!

I grew up broke but the great-grandparents passed on all their old etiquette, so *fart noise* got a lot of old fashioned shit kickin around, this is what we'd do

PREP:

Clean the house in advance. And not just common areas- the whole place. Minimum the kitchen, living room, bathroom, entrance. Take out all the trash, no dirty dishes, scrub out the toilet. (This is less vital with super casual close friends and family.)

Have snacks ready before arrival. Ask in advance about any allergies and accommodate. Same for actual food.

Aim for business-casual clothing. Jeans are okay if they're well-fitted and clean, with no holes, but nothing acid-wash. Sleeveless shirts should be at least three fingers wide, typically women-only but fuck gender conformity I don't give a shit.

Put coffee or the kettle on a minute or two before you expect people to arrive. Coffee should be fresh and kettle should be boiled around the same time folks arrive.

Have a place for people to put their coats and shoes. An area rug works for shoes, ans if you don't have a coat rack or closet for jackets it's handy to have a bedroom cleaned out and a bed made so people can keep coats, scarves, bags, and purses somewhere.

In some cultures cooking doesn't start until guests arrive. The way I was raised, cooking starts much earlier, and things should be coming out of the oven after they've been there a few minutes and had time to chat.

Set the table before guests arrive: Typical setting when I was younger was matching placemats at every seat, plate next. Fork on the left, knife and then spoon on the right. Wine glass on the right, saucer on the right, cup on saucer for hot drinks. Cloth napkin under the spoon and knife on the right, unless rolled with a napkin ring, in which case it could be set at the top of the plate, on the plate, or on the right hand side. Salt, pepper, and a butter dish is to be set out- one of each for every four to six seats is a decent rule of thumb.

DURING:

Guests are expected to announce themselves by knocking or ringing the bell. When this happens, usually a younger member of the family is sent to answer the door and let them in. Hosts follow shortly after, and hugs and greetings take place. The host offers to take people's coats and bags, or otherwise indicates where they can be placed. Shoes come off and are left at the door.

Tour of the house. This doesn't happen every time, but a quick, "let me show you around" may happen if you expect to be there a full day or longer, or if someone needs to politely stall for time, or if the host is especially happy to have you there or to show you something. This usually skips bedrooms, but a nod will usually be given to indicate adult's rooms, and kid's rooms may be peeked at to show off or do introductions with small children.

Offering seats. Usually starts in the living room, where, "can I get you anything?" Is asked. Options usually include wine, beer, water, some kind of juice, coffee, or tea. Possibly ginger ale or cola, but not usually much in the way of sodas.

At this point, a tray of cookies, biscuits, crackers, or other small snacks might be set our to be shared. Here, it's polite to eat a little and join in on smalltalk.

Dinner. When food is ready to come out of the oven, someone in the host's home will announce that dinner is ready, and guests and hosts will relocate to the dinner table and pick seats. (If there is not enough room at the dinner table for everybody, children's plates will be set at a folding table elsewhere, or in the vacated living room area.)

Some hosts will have guests line up in the kitchen and serve their own food one at a time. The way I was taught, hosts bring food and serving utensils to the table and sit once everything is placed. Dishes are then passed in a circle from person to person as people fill their own plates. It is generally assumed that you will take your portion in such volume that everyone else can receive the same amount as you, or more.

Meal usually includes a meat-based dish, a starch like rice or potato, one to three vegetable dishes, and a bread like a bun or roll that may be buttered.

It is here preferred that you ask for something to be passed rather than reach over food. "Could you pass me the..." or "may I borrow the ..." are good ways to ask.

Elbows stay off the table. You may rest your forearms on the edge if you like, depending on how formal we're talking, but no elbows.

Napkin is spread out flat on your lap to catch anything that may drop or spill. Some people may choose to tuck I into their shirt collar to protect their suit or tie, but I've only really ever seen old folks do that, or people doing it to babies and small children.

It is polite to eat everything on your plate, especially if you served yourself. Once everyone has eaten their plate, seconds may be offered or mentioned. It's considered rude to go in for second servings if others haven't finished their firsts yet. This is a good place for conversation to pick up.

Once everyone is finished eating, a member of the hosts' house (usually a kid, sometimes a volunteer guest assisting) will clear the table, gathering empty plates and such from the guests and taking them to the kitchen to be cleaned. Drinks might be refilled now, and dessert forks or spoons might be brought in.

Dessert usually happens. While the meal itself is traditionally homemade, it is perfectly normal for dessert to be store-bought.

The serving of dessert is much less communal than dinner. The person dishing dessert will normally take a stack of plates and send a runner (again, usually a kid) to take stock of who wants dessert and carry theirs to them.

After dessert, dishes will again be gathered and removed, with the exception of cups. Coffee and tea is customary at this point, and alcohol will disappear. This is when conversation comes back in full swing- talking and unwinding is the goal here, and letting any liquor digest so drivers who may have had a sip will be safe to drive afterwards.

END:

Someone will sigh and take note of the time. This is different depending on the group, but a second round of hugs will be in order. Farewells will be made at the door. If there are plenty of leftovers, the host may insist the guest take some. Borrowed dishes and containers will ostensibly be returned at a casual future meeting, possibly as an excuse to meet up and chat over coffee.

It is polite of the guest to offer a hand with cleaning up. It is polite of the host to insist they not. If they are an acquaintance or someone to be impressed, the guest will not be allowed to help clean unless they make it clear that offense will be taken otherwise. If they're a close friend or family member, they may be accepted with some minimal pushback.

The host might start cleaning while the guest is still at the table. This is not intended as an insult.

It is polite to leave around the same time that children begin getting ready for best- usually around 8, 8:30, 9-9:30 on special occasions.

If the weather is especially terrible, or driving conditions are poor, the host might offer the guest a bed for the night. If this is done, it is best to fetch them clean sheets and blankets, a fresh towel, and whatever else they might need. They will be expected to stay no later than breakfast the following morning, unless further plans have been agreed upon. An especially prepared host might have a spare set of pajamas (close friends and family only, usually) and a new toothbrush ready for use.

I think that's everything? A lot of it is weird unspoken shit but yeah lol that's most of what I remember.

I'd love to hear what everyone else grew up with!! Share with me your food culturrrrrrre

[suna-cerely-yours]

Break Point ft k. sakusa

synopsis: tennis!au -you shouldn't be letting your boyfriend's rival feel you up in the locker room, and you certainly shouldn't be getting on your knees for him, especially given the history between the two of you

warnings : mdni, smut, fem! bodied reader, reader has she/her pronouns, degradation, cheating, oral (m! recieving), public sex, pussy jobs, hair pulling, reader is called a good girl

song rec : fetish -selena gomez

"and we're back folks! that was some first set- of course, we are in the US Open semi-finals, and it is sakusa and terushima on the court!"

the crowd roars as you adjust your sunglasses and pick up your honey deuce to take a sip, eyes trained on terushima sitting on the bench with a towel over his head. unwillingly, you find your gaze pulled towards the player on the other side of the umpire's chair, sakusa kiyoomi uncapping a bottle of electrolytes before tilting his head back and bringing the bottle to his mouth. you take another sip, watching the strong column of his throat move as he gulps his water.

"this infamous rivalry's brought everyone together today. over in terushima's box, is, of course, his beautiful girlfriend- joined by his high-school friends!"

you raise your head and smile, raising your honey deuce as the cameras pan over to your seat at the commentator's words. in the row behind you terushima's friends holler and whistle, waving a banner with his face on it.

"terushima's partner is pretty private, so it's a real treat that we managed an interview with her before the match- she's had some fun stuff to say about this rivalry and today's match."

you watch as you pop up on the big screen, dressed in the blue and white dress you'd picked out specially for this match- makeup and hair fresher than it currently was. the string of diamonds around your throat winks in the light as you nod at whatever the interviewer was saying.

"what do you think about sakusa? he's given your boyfriend quite a good amount of grief this season."

the video-you laughs at the question, red lips curling upward. "well, he's been a household name for some time now. yuji thinks more about him than about me, if we're being frank."

"do you think his victories are earned? sakusa's won 5 out of the 6 times they've met so far, and their rivalry goes way back to their juniors days."

"sakusa's definitely a really good player, and he's improved a lot since his defeat at last year's wimbledon final. i- we, yuji and i both think he's someone to watch out for, especially if he can clean up his net play a little more. he, for sure, has the potential to surpass the big 3."

the interviewer raises her eyebrows at your admission, and Arthur Ashe clamors in real time. you sink your teeth into your lower lip, as the other screen shows sakusa's reaction to your words. as usual, the man is stoic, showing no signs of having heard your praise. however, his sharp eyes are focused on the screen showing your interview, having stopped all his inter-set preparations.

"and what about terushima? do you think he can surpass the big 3?"

you're silent for a touch too long before showering yuji with praise, however it doesn't seem like anyone except you had noticed the pause. yuji's grinning from his bench on the court making kissy faces at the screen. he has everyone's attention.

you swallow, shifting your focus back to sakusa, who's no longer looking at the screen, but has his eyes trained on you, a faint smirk evident on his face. well, that pause hadn't escaped everyone's notice. kissing your teeth, you avert your eyes- taking another sip of your honey deuce. arthur ashe titters one final time before silence settles again as the players take their positions, sakusa's serve.

"and at 144 mph that's this season's fastest serve yet! i would not want to be the one who faces that serve, that's for sure."

you lean forward, taking off your sunglasses as the men enter the fifth and final set, sakusa breaking in the first game itself. you, as well as the rest of the centre court, watch with bated breaths as the game gets tense- so focused that you completely miss the dark clouds rolling in and the thunder rumbling ominously. there's not a moment of notice as the sky opens up, the downpour brutal. fat, cold raindrops assault your senses as you scramble for cover- dress already sticking and hair frizzing. making your way down the stairs into the gallery, you hear the commentators announce the official postponement of the match.

going down a level further, you push open the double doors to reach the locker rooms. surprisingly, there's no one around. there's a clang of a locker closing somewhere, and you walk towards the sound- your heels clacking loudly. turning the corner, you freeze as a pale, muscular back- scattered with moles- comes into view. sakusa kiyoomi stands with his back to you, shirtless, with his shorts riding low and a towel slung over his shoulder. at your sharp intake he turns, hooded eyes pinning you in place.

"sorry, i um- i'll just-"

you shouldn't be here. (you've been here too many times to be anywhere else.)

he says nothing but keeps his eyes on you as he towels his hair. your gaze unconsciously strays to his biceps as they flex at the motion, before snapping back to his face. he stares at you for a moment longer, before throwing his towel back into the locker and slamming the door shut. you feel heat creeping up your cheeks as he turns to you again.

"why are you here again?"

"sorry, i just- i thought-"

he keeps quiet, cocking his head to the side, waiting for you to continue. you stammer once more before shutting up.

"sorry. i'll leave."

you feel a lump in your throat at his curt words, but you have no right to be upset. you know that very well. you're almost at the corner when his words cause you to stop.

"the big three?"

you pause, memories of younger kiyoomi talking about his dreams flashing through your mind. swallowing, you turn around.

"you know you could do it. coming from me it means nothing."

"nothing?"

you pause again, feeling your neck prickle with heat against his intense stare. he hasn't moved an inch, yet you feel cornered- like prey.

"it should mean nothing."

he scoffs at this, taking a step closer.

"is that what helps you sleep at night? do you say it before you slip your hand into your panties imagining it's my dick inside you, or do you say it after- as long as there's no guilty conscious right?"

you blink at his words, before retorting sharply, "kiyo you can't speak to me like that, watch your words-"

"so i'm kiyo again? what happened to sakusa? you said it so sweetly in the interview. i'm a regular at your perfect white picket fence household, right?"

you step back, hitting a locker, unaware that you'd been backing up. he's in front of you before you can blink, pressing up against you, one hand gripping your waist the other flat against the locker beside your head. leaning closer his breath fans across your face as he pants, still breathing deeply from his match.

"you show up- as you always do when he's playing against me- wearing the dress i bought you, the dress i fucked you in- wrapped in diamonds i bought you, diamonds that rest where my hands used to-

and that's fine. that's perfectly fine. but showing up here? in this locker room? and saying your words mean nothing to me?"

you whimper, eyes falling shut as he grips your face, smearing your lipstick with his thumb. the scent of his cologne mixed with his sweat crowds your senses, dimming them. slipping his thumb into your mouth he presses against your tongue. you obediently part your mouth, pressing your thighs to relieve some of the pressure. sakusa scoffs again, slotting his thigh between your legs, allowing you to press down and rut against him.

"what a slut, do you get wet like this for everyone? or am i just special baby? do you let every fucker who plays against your darling boyfriend feel you up in the locker room? does the idea of you getting fucked by someone he'll lose against turn him on too?"

your eyes roll back as you moan, sliding a hand to your breast, before it's snatched back by kiyoomi, pinned against the locker. his touch is too familiar for you to consider him as sakusa, he's always been your kiyo.

"you're going to get off humping my leg like a dog in heat baby, i know you can do it," he coos, grip on your face tightening.

you whimper at his words, grinding down harder. everything feels so hot, with kiyoomi pressing his body against you- weight heavy. his scent is everywhere.

"actually- i don't think you deserve that."

your eyes fly open as he shifts his thigh and moves away, leaving you cold and slumped against the lockers. you breathe heavily, fingers scrambling for purchase behind you to keep yourself upright.

you open your mouth to say something, anything- but you draw blank. what can you even say?

kiyoomi stands still in front of you, arms crossed- but with his shorts tenting it's clear he's not entirely unaffected. his dark eyes remain fixed on you, but he says nothing. the two of you remain suspended like this for a few heartbeats. you see his adam's apple bob as he swallows once, twice- before taking a step back.

"you should leave. he's probably waiting for you."

you should leave. he's definitely waiting for you.

you nod slowly, straightening your spine. taking a deep breath, you reach for your bag which you had dropped sometime during and dig through it for a tissue. your makeup must be a mess.

glancing back at kiyoomi you pause- watching as he sinks down on a bench and leans back to rest on his elbows. his legs part as he breathes, chest rising- erection still straining against his shorts.

the sight is so familiar, your heart aches. your mouth feels dry as he drops his head back, revealing the strong column of his neck.

your panties stick uncomfortably, pussy still throbbing. your breasts feel heavy as you drop your bag again, turning towards him. heat trickles down your spine as you reach for the zipper of your dress, unable to move your eyes from his physique. your dress pools by your feet as you step out of it, now dressed in nothing but your panties, heels, and his diamonds.

kiyoomi still hasn't moved.

teeth sinking into your lower lip, you reach to unbuckle your heels, your brain on autopilot. now barefoot, you pad towards kiyo, sinking to your knees in between his parted legs.

you should leave.

you reach forward to mouth at kiyo's erection, pressing open-mouthed kisses on his cock through the fabric. above you kiyo still hasn't moved, but he sighs, carding a hand through your hair. pressing a hand to his thigh for balance, you move to pull him out, continuing to mouth at his shaft. leaning forward you take him in your mouth, slowly easing him in until you feel him hit the back of your throat. eyes watering, you breath slowly, sucking him the way you know he likes it. you feel kiyo tug at your roots, and you look up at him, eyes locking. his eyes are hooded and impossibly dark, mouth bitten red as he pants.

"my pretty girl, so good for me, only for me," he slurs, grip on your hair tightening. you moan, taking him deeper, swallowing him. kiyo groans, head tipping back again. you slip your hand into your panties, desperate for some friction, moaning again. before you can move however, you find yourself being lifted straight up onto his lap.

now straddling him, your pussy slides against his dick, as you grasp his shoulders for purchase.

"you just couldn't stay away could you? what a filthy little whore. what would those reporters say if they could see you now, hmm? tennis's favourite girlfriend is nothing but a cock hungry slut, but not for her boyfriend, no- for her boyfriend's rival," he coos.

"kiyo, fuck," you whimper, everything is too much.

he moves you again, this time standing up to push you against the locker once again. your legs tremble as you lean back. he slaps your tits, as you jerk, gasping.

"kiyokiyokiyo, please," you whine, unsure what exactly you want him to do. yanking your panties down, he pumps his cock once, before tapping the head against your clit. bullying the head between your lips, he groans, rutting against you.

slapping your tits once again, he grips his cock, inhaling sharply- and he cums all over you pussy and panties. you whine again, reaching to pull his head down, needing to kiss him.

"fuck. fuck, you're so-," he pants into your neck. you nod deliriously, you need to cum so badly it hurts.

the doors clang loudly.

"yo, sakusa, you in here? the weather's cleared up, they're sayin' if it's cool with the both of us we can continue in 30 minutes."

the two of you spring apart, alarm bells ringing in your mind as you pull up your panties. rushing to your dress, you struggle to put it on.

kiyo shoots you one last look, before calling out, "sure man, you mind letting them know on my behalf? i'll be right up."

the footsteps stop just you're stumbling into your shoes.

"of course my guy, no problem."

the doors open again, and you sigh in relief.

"say, you wouldn't have seen my girl anywhere, would you? she's disappeared."

you freeze again, but sakusa's moving past you now, rounding the corner with his tennis bag hung over his shoulder.

"nah, haven't seen her."

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Their Favorite Show

Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader

Summary: Sirius and James have a secret. They love watching Remus fucking his girlfriend, you. Without both of you knowing.

Warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT, Remus is a gentleman in the streets but a freak in the sheets, rough sex, masturbating, everyone is of age!!

Word Count: 1.6K

It all started when Sirius and James ran down the hallway to their dorm room. They were running late to quidditch practice, they didn’t want to get an earful about their tardiness. James was captain which meant more pressure in attending practice on time. Barging into the room, they quickly grabbed their stuff and was about to head out when a voice called out, a girl’s voice. They froze in mid step when they heard giggling followed by the sound of Remus’ voice, “Need you so bad, love.”

Even though they were running late, they were pranksters after all. They didn’t want to waste a good moment like this to prank their dear friend and his girl. They've been waiting for an opportunity like this. They were fond of you and accepted you into their little friend’s group. Sirius and James wouldn’t tell Remus this, but they had a small crush on you when they first met you. Which ended when Remus and you came out as a couple but once in a while, James and Sirius’ gaze would linger a little bit too long on you whenever you spoke or when doing something.

Running into the bathroom to hide, they left the door ajar. They had a clear view of Remus' bed. They held their breath when they heard the knob of the door jiggling.

“Remus.” Sirius’ ears perked up at your voice as both of you came walking in.

Sirius sees Remus leaning down to kiss you. Remus’ hands cups your face as he makes out with you. The boys freeze when they witness the sight of tenderness between Remus and you. Remus is mumbling your nickname to you as he lays his forehead against yours. His lips meets yours again before pulling away to lay you down on his bed, you’re on your back.

About to jump out and scare both of you. You began to moan when Remus started to nip on your neck, planting wet open kisses.

It takes a lot to make playboy, Sirius blush like a school girl but seeing Remus kiss you like that flipped something in him. Remus’ fingers were working quickly to unbutton your shirt. James gulped when Remus took your shirt off, showing your bralette.

“Prettiest fucking tits, I swear.” Remus says as he pulls them down, showing your bare breasts.

Sirius and James’ eyes grew wide as they saw Remus sucked your nipple while squeezing the other. They were practically salivating when they saw your wet hard nipple when Remus pops it out of his mouth.

“Don’t forget to lock the door.” You tell him as Remus quickly removes his sweater and throws it across the room.

“Don’t worry. Peter is in the library with Lily. James and Sirius are at practice. They won’t be back until a few hours.” Sirius and James glance at each at the word practice.

Practice will not be on the agenda today that was for sure especially when they saw you removing the rest of your clothes. Remus follows you and it is not the first time they have seen Remus naked. All the years they have helped him with his transformations. They were always amazed by his body. His tall frame was something out of a painting. His fair skin looked so soft even with the scars. His hair was getting longer, and his piercing eyes peeked behind the strands of hair as he leans over you.

Their cocks grew hard when they saw you riding Remus. The sound of skin slapping together, your wet cunt and Remus groans were so arousing to them. Your breasts were bouncing up and down as you rode Remus’ cock. James rubs the back of his neck as he hears Remus calling you his pretty slut. Sirius starts to play with the belt around his waist when you cried out that you were going cum.

Remus brings his hand to your neck and Sirius is hard when he sees you, go crossed eyes for a sec and a grin appears on your pretty flushed face when you cum on Remus’ cock.

It’s been three weeks since James and Sirius saw Remus fucking you. After watching Remus and you, they had to go their separate ways and deal with themselves. They felt bad afterwards, the guilt was eating them up every day. Jacking off to the thought of their best mate fucking his girlfriend.

They vowed to never tell Remus or you about this. Not even a living soul, they couldn’t tell anyone that they enjoyed it. Remus and you had ruined porn for them completely, nothing was exciting them like before. They had to hear Remus and your moans. They had to see your cunt gushing all over Remus’ cock to cum. It had gotten to the point that Sirius and James would pretend to forget some details. The boys would “recall” how your ass looked or how Remus’ cock slid into you. They wanted to talk about you and Remus in order for them to cum.

“Remember that face she made?” James nods at Sirius.

“When he started to choke her..fuck.” Sirius says as he cups himself through his trousers.

Remus and you never suspected a thing and they kept doing it. James and Sirius would hide in the closet, bathroom again, and use the cloak of invisibility. James and Sirius thought they were close before but nothing was like being close with each other like being under the cloak with their cocks out in their hands as they watched Remus fucking you from behind.

They had front row seats to their favorite show.

Remus had you on your hands and knees on his bed. He’s panting above you as he holds your hips while thrusting into you.

Sirius bites the inside of his cheek as he squeezes the head of his cock gently. James is breathing heavily, his round glasses start to fog up a bit as he strokes himself.

“Remus!” You cry out as he pushes the side of your face down on the mattress, you are facing James and Sirius now and they see a smile on your face when Remus holds your neck down. You love this just as much as Remus did.

Your moans become louder as Remus slams himself inside of you. The mattress springs creak so loudly by his rough thrusts. Your cheek is squished against the blankets. You hold on for dear life, your pussy pulse around Remus’ cock as he praises you for being a good girl with her ass in the air and head down.

They never would have thought Remus as a dom, he was too bashful and too respectful towards you. This was the same Remus that blushes when you call him baby and kisses his cheeks in the hallways. The same Remus that would walk you to class, carrying your books and even your bag.

That Remus is gone, this Remus is using your pussy as his personal pocket pussy and you’re just loving it. Even with his rough strokes, Remus leans down close to your face pushing his cock deeper inside of you.

Remus is muttering sweet words to you. Pushing your hair back, as he coos about your pretty face. He kisses your shoulders, as he calls you his.

“Mine. All mine.” He says before continuing ramming his hips against your ass.

James was the first to cum, he always is. He just couldn’t help it. You looked so fucking good with teary eyes taking a pounding from Remus. Sirius cums when you cry out for Remus to cum in you.

You are begging your boyfriend to fill you and Remus whines when he holds you in place. He leans over you and pulls your hair back, almost making your upper body fold back. He pulls you back by your hair and you look up at him with a pout, he kisses you.

Remus cries your name when he fills you to the hilt and paints your wall with his cum. James and Sirius just stare at both of you as Remus rolls you carefully on to your back. He’s gentle with you as he opens your legs and makes room for himself. He goes on you to lay there with you. Caging your head with his forearms as he kisses you. You wrap your legs around his waist.

They liked watching the aftercare, something so sweet and tender. Remus kisses you so gently, it leaves you out of breath. They would watch Remus stare down at you with so much intensity and love.

“You okay, love?” You nod at your boyfriend’s soft voice. Remus holds you until your breathing is back to normal. James whines softly at the sight of it and Sirius glances over at him. It’s hot and humid under the cloak.

James and Sirius give each other the same look after every time they watched Remus and you. They always say this will be the last time. That’s what they tell themselves but the moment they see you pulling Remus into another room during a party or whispering in his ear during lunches and breaks. They see the look on Remus’ face and he grabs your hand telling his friends something had come up. Sometimes they know by the way Remus walks up to you.

They watch him walk up behind you when they see you talking to your friends in the courtyard. He politely greets your friends with a smile as he grabs your waist, hugging you from behind and kisses your forehead. He grabs your bag, telling you a lady shouldn’t be carrying a heavy thing. Your friends are all in awe of his gentleman nature. You say goodbye to them as you walk with Remus who’s hiding his hard on with your bag. Both of you are off to the nearest empty classroom. James and Sirius are quick to make an excuse to leave. They always leave Lily, Peter and Marlene baffle by their sudden departure.

[helloilikepurple]

Danny Fenton is fourteen when he dies. He's fifteen when he ceases to exist.

All traces of Danny Fenton just gone. No records, no photos, no memories. It's like he was never born. Naturally, without Danny to turn on the portal comes no ghosts, so no Danny Fenton also means the GIW never came to be. Time is carefully set back on Amity Park. There are no longer any ghost sirens, charms, merch, or cracks in the pavement from Vlad knocking him out of the sky or scorch marks on the side of buildings from Skulker's stray shots.

The Fenton's only have one child, a smart, ginger woman who's pursuing psychology in some top-league out of state college like Harvard or Yale or Brown. There's no little brother to keep her confined to the little town in nowhere Illinois where she was born.

Sam and Tucker never became friends, because there was no Danny Fenton to bring them together.

The Fenton's portal never turns on, so they focus their research on the ambient ectoplasm in the air around them. They become leading scientists in clean energy. Ectoplasm is the perfect resource; endlessly reusable, infinite supplies that never deplete, no negative effects on the environment.

Danny Fenton is no one. There is no Danny Fenton. There never was.

And the world is better for it.

Danny doesn't exist, there is no place for him, nowhere for him to go.

This was the only way to stop the GIW from starting a war with the Infinite Realms. It was the only solution.

It still hurts.

Danny is fifteen. He has no last name anymore, no family, no friends, and no home. He could live in the Ghost Zone, but he doesn't want to. He's still human, even if it's only half. He doesn't want to go. It feels final, like turning his back once and for all on all he knew and was.

So he does the only thing he can think to do and watches the stars.

In the frozen tundra, no one around for miles, Phantom lays in the snow and stares up into the speckled darkness. He doesn't move. He doesn't breathe. He stays so completely still he's entirely dead.

The snow doesn't bury him. The sun never rises.

It doesn't stop snowing.

Danny doesn't exist.

He's dead.

What is he supposed to do now? Go and be Prince of the In Between? He doesn't want to. He wants to go home. He wants to cuddle up with Jazz and play Doomed with Sam and Tucker. He wants to hug his dad. He wants his mum to sing to him like she used to when he was little enough they still tucked him into bed.

Maybe he just won't do anything. Maybe he'll just stay here forever, not Danny or Phantom and far from alive. Just nothing. He's nothing. Nothing and no one.

---

Nobody can see the sun.

It's still there, of course. All you need to do is leave the atmosphere and bam, there it is. On Earth though? No sign of it.

It's like they've fallen into an eternal night.

Best part?

It's caused by very powerful magic.

Listen, Batman has a lot of patience. A lot. But it's been two weeks of this, Zatanna's off-world, Constantine's only just answered his goddamn phone and the planet has collectively decided panic is the only course of action. He's been Bruce Wayne for a collective ten hours in the past fourteen days. It's ridiculous.

Thankfully it only takes Constantine a few minutes to track the source to somewhere in the Antarctic after he finally shows up.

[luveline]

If you have any interest, how about a Spencer blurb where he's off on a case and gets or misses a late night call from the reader and is super worried, only to call them back and find them drunk and missing him. And of course the team rags on him after.

thank u for ur request! fem!reader

Spencer looks down at his phone and goes ghostly white. 

"What?" Emily asks. "They had a sale at Waterstones and you missed it?" 

Spencer clicks a bunch of buttons on his phone and brings it to his ear, crushing limp hair to his neck. "Seventeen missed calls," he says. 

Derek comes to the rescue, though the lightness in his voice is slightly forced, "Don't panic, wonderboy. Who wouldn't be eager to talk to you at… two AM?" 

"Is that the time difference?" Emily asks, leaning forward in concern. 

Even Hotch puts down his pen. The team listens to the phone ring. It loops, loops, loops, and everybody breathes a sigh of relief when you finally answer. If something happened to you Spencer wouldn't survive it. Nor after everything he's already been through. 

"Hey?" he says. There's a gap of silence. "Y/N, are you there?" 

"Spencer!" 

Spencer turns away from the table they've congregated at and looks through the open window at the parking lot, police cars roaming in and out of spaces. "What's wrong?" 

"I miss you so much." 

Spencer's nose wrinkles of its own accord. "Yeah? You sound odd. Are you– are you drunk?" 

Derek laughs. Like marionettes held tight with strings suddenly cut, the team stop their stressing and send each other knowing, amused looks. 

"Just a little bit!" you promise, clearly lying. Your voice catches on the syllables like they're coated in sticky honey, the slightest slurring tripping you up at the end. "We went for– to Chilli's. I had a blooming onion and seven margaritas!" 

"I can tell." 

"I'm really sorry, Spence, I know I'm not s'posed to call when you're away," you begin. 

Spencer glances back. Rossi and JJ have returned with coffee and a late dinner, neither of them bothering to act as though they aren't listening to the conversation. 

"No," Spencer says, turning back around and hunching inward, "that's the opposite of what we talked about, isn't it? You can call whenever you want to, but I can't, you know, always answer. I thought something bad happened. Maybe next time you could text me?" Rather than call almost twenty times and give him a heart attack.

Laughter echoes from behind. They team act like a teasing family sometimes, Spencer their teenage son who's never dated. 

He would fluster if you weren't talking to him in loud but loving tones, "I can barely walk, texting wasn't happening. I'm para-spelgic." 

"You're not," he says, firmly at first. "Are you? Who's with you? Is Rebecca there?" Rebecca being your best friend. Spencer trusts her to take care of you.

"She was, but she said that I– uh… She said I talked about you too much and made her nauseous. I feel kinda sick, too, but I just needed to talk to you, Spence. I miss you. I miss you, are you home soon?" 

"Is Rebecca really not there?" he asks. He thinks about the room full of special agents he's standing in and drops his voice to a murmur. "I miss you too." 

"She's making toast or something." 

"That's good. It'll soak up the margaritas." 

"I don't want toast, I want you! Please come home safe, angel. I really wish you were here to do that thing with my ear." 

Spencer has to give in. You're speaking so loudly it's impossible the team hadn't heard it, but he can't find the will to be embarrassed any longer. You're drunk and ridiculous and all you can think about is him.

"I wish I was home, too. Do I need to worry about you? Make sure you're drinking water, okay? Alcohol makes you dehydrated, you'll get a bad headache." 

"It makes me miss you," you whine. 

He smiles fondly. "There's no cure for that." A door opens over the line. "Is that Rebecca?" 

"Yeah." Murmurings. "She says sorry for letting me get so drunk, but she didn't let me do anything. It's like you always say, Spence, I can do whatever I set my mind to." 

"And you set your mind to getting drunk at Chili's." 

"Exactly!" 

You talk a little more before he hangs up. He knows you're getting taken care of. 

A gaggle of smiling faces greet him as he turns around. "Everything okay, 'angel'?" Derek asks. 

Spencer puts his phone in his pocket. You'll text him in the morning with a hankering for Tylenol and sore eyes, but you'll be fine. "Everything's great." 

[periprose]

Hi! :)

I’m craving some Logan Howlett angsty fluff and I really like your writing style… Do you think you could maybe do a fic where either Logan and reader are in the heat of the moment and his claws come out and he scratches her. Or where Logan has a nightmare and the same thing happens. Either way the reader ends up comforting him.

Thank you! 🩷 :)

Hi!! So sorry for getting to this so late 🥹 loved the idea btw :) ended up doing a bit of a mix of both? If that makes sense.

/

"Out with it."

Your voice rings out clearly among the X-Men, the throng of battle no longer around you all. It was a more exhausting battle than you would've thought, but nothing irks you more than knowing that Logan has been apparently thinking of you as someone to play babysitter to. He hadn't trusted you to make your final blow to the enemy, and instead scooped you away to safety before lashing out with his own claws.

Logan clearly has something to say to you, and you want to hear it. You're not going to let him escape again- the way he always does, nonchalantly, refusing to acknowledge how he treats you.

Charles stiffens next to you in the helicarrier. Watching the tension, feeling the palpable heart-wrenching sensation between you and Logan. He doesn't know how you got to this point.

"Listen. Just because you didn't have it doesn't mean you're not a good X-Man-" Logan starts dismissively.

"But I did! I did have it!" You shout back at him, and then inhale carefully. "Nobody told you to rescue me, Logan. If I was about to die, then I was. I wanted that to be on my own terms."

"Don't talk like you're a fucking martyr when you've never had the privilege, kid." Logan's unnecessarily harsh tone has you flinching. "Do you know how many people I've seen die, for no good reason? Do you really want a bunch of Pentagon psychos to be your last memory?"

"Shut up." You shift in your seat, feeling small. "We don't get to choose when we die. Not like you."

Logan becomes visibly angered with that, the little taunt you've made towards his immortality. "That doesn't mean you have to go seek it out, dumbass."

"Oh really? Don't tell me you're getting soft, Logan." You glare at him, and Charles and Jean and Scott look at each other uncertainly. "Just because your life is so long doesn't mean the rest of us have forgotten what it means to be alive."

There's an unspoken, sudden charge in the air, now that you've mentioned what everyone else has the good sense to shut up about- Logan having lived so long and not caring about the consequences of his actions. Logan's eyes narrow until you feel sure that you've pushed him too far this time- he looks more animal than human, more Wolverine than ever- and you feel yourself inching forward, letting the anger of not being understood push you to fighting him- and Charles suddenly raises his hand in protest.

"Please, you two. I'm not sure what has transpired today, but I know you are better than choosing to have a physical altercation on a helicarrier flight." His calm, soothing tone makes you feel a little disappointed in yourself, and you settle back in your seat, refusing to meet his or Jean's glances of concern.

/

All you really wanted was an apology. A "Sorry, I won't do that again." Or even an explanation for why Logan keeps tabs on you all the time, never letting you be a real part of the X-Men, always safely on the sidelines. Were you just too weak?

Should you even be here?

You feel guilty for what you said to him. It's not a bad thing, you know, that Logan doesn't want you to get hurt- it's just that you want to do your job. You're not a kid.

It almost, almost justifies how you treated him, but even you know that was too far. You can't act as if you know Logan's life story- not even Charles or Jean would claim to do that, and they've searched his mind for memories several times.

Like it or not, the man was mysterious. He kept to himself on a lot of things, citing past hurt as his reason why- and you should've respected that.

"Maybe I am weak." You mutter to yourself, wondering why you can't restrain your emotions around Logan.

You're practicing shooting small, psionic blasts towards the target in your room- it's a great way to pass the time when you can't sleep- when you hear a groan, a shudder, an angry, deep growl-

It sounds like Logan. His room is right above yours, and the sounds are definitely coming from there- you hear him yell, and before you can stop yourself, you're bounding up the stairs to the third floor of the X-Mansion, bursting through his room's door with a ready hand, in case you need to fight.

/

Logan watches as you berate him in his dream.

Actually, it's not quite you- it's some venomous, evil, witch wearing your face. You giggle at him- you call him old- you don't take him seriously.

With every taunt, you fire another bright purple blast at him- and for once, his body doesn't heal instantaneously. He is getting old, getting hurt, watching as blood pools out of him. It's agonizingly painful.

He's going to die this time, without making it right with you- he's afraid that you're right about him, that he's a washed up sad old man who can't ever let people in.

"We don't need you anymore, Logan..." The not-you whispers softly, smiling a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes, and Logan can't help but believe it.

His self preservation instincts kick in, and he launches forward, snarling, claws out with a sharp snikt sound. He feels that even though he'll regret your death, he'll miss you immensely, it's just one more tally mark to several others.

/

"Logan. Logan!"

You're leaning over Logan's sweaty, clammy body in his bed. You watch as his hands fist in the sheets, and he tosses and turns in agony- you breathe in hesitation, in fear that he's not going to be okay- he grunts suddenly, and you're reminded of how Rogue tells you about his nightmares. They're frequent.

How out of touch could you have been today?

You gently-yet-firmly grab Logan's arm, shaking, and his arms move forward in a self-defense mechanism that seems practiced, as if he's been attacked in his sleep before, and before you can move away, there's a sharp snikt sound, a quick wave of claws, and a searing pain in your side.

It all happens before you can even blink. You fall off to the side, on the floor, writhing in pain. Logan's claws just nicked your side, it's essentially a scratch- but the pain is so much worse than you're expecting, and you fall to the floor again as you try to get up.

You breathe in harshly, holding back a sob, as you feel wet blood pooling through the side of your night dress.

"Jesus Christ." Logan pounces off the bed, waking to blood all over his claws, and he's leaning over your body, as you blink up at him hesitantly. He immediately panics, lifting you up and resting you on his squatted thighs. "Kid! Hey, kid, don't close your eyes-"

"..." You're just barely hanging on, but you listen.

And Logan feels that same sense of shame he felt when he attacked Rogue, when Jean "died", every single time he had accidentally unsheathed his claws towards someone who didn't deserve it.

Doubly so, considering it's like his terrible nightmare has come to life. But you absolutely didn't do anything wrong- he can't believe he was so angry with you.

He calls for help, in a slightly broken tone, and no one seems to be coming.

"Just a scratch." You try, but Logan shakes his head.

"No, no, no." Logan spits out. "How could I- I never meant to-"

"I'm sorry, Logan." You cough, and Logan feels awful that you're apologizing while bleeding out due to his actions. "I shouldn't have said what I said. You're not some unreliable old man who doesn't care..."

You flinch at a sudden, sharp pain, and Logan motions for you to stop talking, but you keep going.

"If anything, you're the opposite. You're there for me. And I'm sorry that I got so... so angry at you for that." You mutter to yourself, not aware of how Logan hangs onto your words. "You're protecting me from making mistakes, and I'm grateful."

"No, kid. You had a point before." Logan interjects, but you shake your head.

"Did I? Or was I being a brat?" You grimace at yourself.

"You did have a point. I was being selfish," Logan shakes his head and then swallows that urge to push you away. "I don't always know how to leave people well enough alone. Sometimes I'm too much."

He hesitates, and then continues on. "Like, I treat you as if you're a nuisance, right? But I always... I always want you next to me. And I know I should just sort my shit out like an adult. But I'm scared."

"Scared?"

"Of what happens. What always happens." Logan sighs in defeat. "I fall in love, and they die. I find my people, and they leave me because I'm such a jackass. There's too much surrounding me that just... ruins everything."

"No, no. I won't leave." You tighten your hand around Logan's, and he, despite wanting to say that you're wounded because of him, believes you. He's so grateful to hear you say it- he had no idea that's what was weighing on him so badly.

He loves you, he knows he does. Logan has never been the best with feelings, but for once, he's glad he was honest.

The first thing Scott sees when he finally makes his way to Logan's room, from all the way across the X-Mansion, is Logan whispering "I'm sorry," and... he thinks (he's not 100% sure), "I love you," to your very forlorn, softly curved-around-him body.

It's a very tender moment, and Scott feels he should leave.

Then Logan presses a firm, shaky kiss on your forehead, and then your lips, and you, with your limited reserve of energy, kiss him back, and then Scott interjects with:

"Hey!...?"

He seems taken aback as you both look at him. "I heard screaming? What is this, some sort of weird cult sacrificial scenario?"

"Logan... had a... nightmare..." You wince, and Scott sees the red on your night gown. "I need... medical attention."

"On it." Scott glances at Logan for permission, and he's currently trying to push all these mushy feelings back into his chest where they belong, and he wants to be there to help you in the clinic, but he's flustered with everything that's happened and he can only hand you to Scott without looking at him.

Scott smirks to himself as he runs you to the clinic of the X-Mansion.

"You and Logan, huh? I knew there was something in that fight today." Scott remarks as you cling to him.

"It's taken an embarrassingly long time for me to figure it out, but yeah." You blush. "Has everyone else...?"

"Jean's been running a bet for the last year." Scott laughs. "She says you both are two sides of the same coin."

You can't help but agree.

[heartfullofleeches]

Carnis [Cow Hybrid Yan] with Farmer Witch Reader- A witch and their lab grown giant cow puppy who stumbled onto their farm one day. Witch Reader judt might end up putting off meat entirely despite being aware of Carnis' immortality/regenerative abilities after Carnis works up to courage to tell them what happened in the lab. Eating living fruits and vegetables is one thing, but Carnis has been through so much already they couldn't possibly make the poor butcher themselves for their benefit. Witch Reader is relatively neutral to most things that happen on their farm, but they aren't a monster.

Carnis is intentionally hurt that the farmer doesn't want their meat. They've heard Reader reminisce about the days before they moved away to the countryside where it was quite easy for them to exchange their magic in return for goods from the humans. Do they not like beef? Do they think Carnis would taste bad? Witch Reader hardly wants anything from Carnis besides the cow helping them finish any left over produce, but they can see how sad Carnis is with no way to repay their kindness. They give Carnis small tasks around their farm which lifts the hybrid's spirits and gives them more locations to check for trespassers. If Witch Reader doesn't want their meat the least they can do is offer the witch the same protection they've given them.

-

"Carnis. I know you're excited, but you have to stay still just a bit longer. I would hate to cut your hair, but there's still lot of dirt I need to scrub out."

The hybrid wriggles against the porcelain floor of your bathtub, splashing soapy water all over your lower body as you kneed your finger through their hair. You're sure an apology would've followed had they no been so preoccupied getting a good look out the window. Your fields are all they've been able to keep an eye on since you gave them free range of the property. A part of you wished to inquire more about their life before now. All you could do to settle your curiosity now was give them time.

"Want....."

The softness of their voice catches you off guard.

"You can go outside after I'm done washing your hair, Carnis. It won't be long."

Carnis shakes their head, the smooth side of their horn bumping against your wrist. "I want to stay inside - with you... If....if that's okay?"

"This is your home now if you wish to stay. Do as you please."

[woso-dreamzzz]

IKEA

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Sam Kerr x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You go to IKEA

It was Guro's fault.

Everyone could agree on that, though Guro insisted it was actually Millie's fault for bringing up the idea of a trip to IKEA in the first place.

Everyone else disagreed because Guro was the one that was meant to be holding your hand before you disappeared.

Either way, you were gone and they were fucked.

"I mean," Erin says as they wander through the winding halls of IKEA," She's Swedish so this place must be a second home. She's probably not lost."

"She's practically a baby," Millie replies bluntly, dipping into one of the showrooms to check you're not hiding there," I think we should be more worried about someone kidnapping her."

"You don't think she's been kidnapped, right?" Guro asks, gnawing on her bottom lip as she glances around," I mean, no one actually kidnaps kids, nowadays? Right? I thought we've moved past that."

"No one's kidnapped her!" Sam insists," She's somewhere around this place. We'll grab her and not let Magda and Pernille know she even got lost."

The others nod in agreement before Millie makes the choice to split everyone up. They'd cover more ground by themselves and hopefully find you a bit quicker.

IKEA is already a maze for normal people. She doesn't want to think about how confusing it must be for such a little kid.

Although, you don't think you're lost at all. It's not your fault that Guro got distracted by something and told you that you were free to wander for a little bit. You didn't mean to go so far and out of sight but this shop is exciting.

It got even more exciting when you hit the toy section. There's lots of toys for you to choose from so you're not quite sure which one you would like.

All of them would be a good choice but Momma only gave you a little bit of money to spend and you're just learning your numbers but you know that it's not enough to buy everything.

That's a little sad but Morsa's always told you that you can't have everything so this must be one of those times.

You keep staring at them though, eyes wide as you try to decide which one you want to take home with you.

You can hear movement behind you, footsteps pounding on the shiny floor. You don't turn around though.

This shop is busy so it must be someone trying to find something. You don't want to get in their way so you press a bit closer towards the toys.

Sam doesn't want to let you remain lost any longer and she certainly doesn't want to call Magda and Pernille to let them know.

Her feet pound against the linoleum as she tries to find you.

Erin's stayed behind to check where they've lost you while Sam, Millie and Guro have moved forward to check in the other areas you could have wandered to, peeling off from each other to cover more ground.

Sam's hoping she can sprint to the exit before you can get there with your little legs. Even if she can't, she's sure none of the staff will ignore a little girl wandering around by herself so hopefully, one of them can nab you and announce your disappearance through the tannoy system.

Sam's sprinting so fast that she almost misses you.

Almost.

Before she got to take you out for the day, Magda and Pernille made her memorise what you're wearing, just in case you wandered off a bit like now. She'd been made to stand on their doorstep with her eyes closed as she recited exactly what you wearing, straight down to your sock colour and pattern.

It comes in handy now as, out of the corner of her eye, Sam catches sight of the exact same colour of your shirt and leggings.

She skids to a stop, turning around to look properly.

You're right there, head tilted up to study the big bear toy in the crate in front of you.

"Hey!"

You recognise the sound of Sam's voice behind you and turn to look at her.

"Sam!" You say," I have enough?"

You hold out your fistful of money out to her to inspect.

"W-What?!"

"I have enough money for the bear?" You elaborate, pointing at the toy you want and shaking your hand to draw her attention back from your face to your money.

"You scared us!" Sam says instead," Why did you leave?"

You frown. "I didn't leave. Guro said I could walk by myself for a bit."

Sam's just about to tear her hair out at your clear misinterpretation of Guro's words. "Okay, well-"

"Sam!" Guro comes sprinting up behind her. "Pernille's calling! What do I do?!"

You tilt your head to the side in confusion. "Why are you scared of Momma calling?"

"Oh my god! We found you!"

"I found her," Sam replies, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't hide!" You say stubbornly, stamping your foot on the ground," Making a new friend!" You point at the big bear you want to buy.

"That's nice," Guro says before her phone is pressed against your ear," Talk to Pernille."

"Hi Momma!" You chirp," I'm buying a bear!"

"Hi, princesse," Pernille coos in your ear, finally feeling settled and calm now that Guro finally picked up her fifth call," Are you having fun?"

You nod before realising this is a phone call and Momma can't see you so you speak again," Yes! Sam was running to find-"

Sam's hand covers your mouth and she hurries to speak. "To find a new lamp! Helen broke my last one."

At home, Pernille frowns, waving over Magda and putting the phone on speaker.

"You were running to find a new lamp?"

Sam chuckles awkwardly. "Er...yeah...I'm really into lamps. Did I not tell you?"

It's clear this is the first time Magda's hearing of it too, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Sam?" She asks.

Sam squeaks hearing Magda's voice and her own goes very high pitched as she replies. "Yes, Magda?"

"What kind of lamp do you recommend?" Magda asks," I've been thinking of getting a new one."

"Er...One that fits next to your bed?"

"Uh-huh. What about decoration? Just plain or pattern?"

"Er...I think...Erm...You can get patterned lamps?"

Magda rolls her eyes. "Put my daughter on the phone, Sam." There's a rustle. "Princesse, can you tell me what Sam was searching for?"

"She thought I was hiding!" You giggle and Magda can hear squabbling in the background. "Which is silly because I wasn't! I think she thought I was lost!"

You keep giggling and Pernille takes a very deep breath.

"Princesse," She says," Please put Sam and Guro back on the phone, please. Morsa and I need to talk to them."

"Okay, Momma!"

"Sam, Guro," Magda says through clenched teeth," You get Erin and Millie and you get back to this house within the hour."

"Do-Do we have to?"

"Yes!"

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER FIVE

05 : SIRIUS : FIRST DAY

CHPT. SUM. : Sirius goes to Hogwarts and his sorting causes a stir at school and at home.

LENGTH : 11.8k

TAGS : fluff ; hurt/comfort ; marauders origins dob ver. ; friendship beginnings ; mini-therapy session with the sorting hat ; regulus being a cutie ; sirius finding his place ; regulus needs a hug ; first day at hogwarts ; orion being the worst husband and father ever ; momma bear reader ; not canon compliant

← PREV. | 04 : BEGINNINGS | SERIES M.LIST

1st September 1971

Sirius smiles faintly at his younger brother, the two of them separated by the window of the Hogwarts Express. For a moment, all of the excitement that had been bouncing around in his stomach suddenly compressed into a weighted ball of anxiety. Hogwarts was going to be a fun, new adventure, you had reassured him of such that morning, however, seeing Regulus looking up at him through the window made his stomach drop into an unknown abyss.

"Take care, Siri," Regulus smiles toothily, having to tilt his chin up to see his older brother better. He didn't want to forget a single detail about how his brother looked. It was an unreasonable fear but Regulus was scared stiff over forgetting a single thing about his older brother.

"'Course! You take care too, Reg," Sirius looks up at you for a moment but you don't meet his eyes, seemingly distracted by something that catches your eye in the crowd, "I know Mother is different now but I'm worried about you..."

Shocked by his brother's concern, Regulus feels a small urge to look over his shoulder and observe you in the hopes that the swelling of apprehension in his stomach can settle, somewhat. It's easy to trust you now but it's also just as easy to fall back on being guarded, for his own self-protection — with Sirius gone, his only brother, who often acts as his shield and protector, fear is one stray, all-consuming thought away from devouring them both. They've never been without the other for any extended period of time. This was going to be a first.

"I know..." Regulus nervously tugs on the hem of his sleeves, trying to ground himself with the action, "but I don't think she'll change back... and besides, I have Kreacher," Sirius' lips pull into a thin line. Yes, he's started getting along with the house elf a lot better recently, mainly due to Regulus and his mother's influence but Sirius knows the truth. If Kreacher was ever forced to choose between Regulus and his mother, Kreacher would pick you, the Matriarch of the Black family. His little brother is too naive and soft-hearted for his own good.

"Write to me if anything goes wrong, okay?" Regulus only nods before they silently decide to let go of the tense subject and, at least, part on a lighter note, "I promise I'll write to you about everything that happens, I won't miss a single detail!" the two grin at each other, "By the time I come back, you'll be an expert about Hogwarts and you won't be fumbling around and making mistakes like me on your first year,"

A sharp whistle tears through the air and the brothers share a tearful look before Regulus rushes back to cling onto your skirt, the both of you keeping your eyes solely on Sirius whose heart can't stop clenching — in distress or excitement, he cannot fathom what the emotion behind it all is. In the distance, he watches his mother's lips move to form the words 'I love you'. It's like she's whispering it to him, loving and kind and full of warmth, like the wonderful mother she's suddenly become. Just one month... he wishes you had been whispering that endearment to him for longer than that.

Despite his worries about what may happen to Regulus in his absence, Sirius meets your eyes with a smile and whispers an 'I love you' back. Deep in his chest, his heart settles in content, happy and blissfully optimistic over your disposition. Your eyes hold such bountiful amounts of love, that he feels slightly ashamed for thinking the worst of you. There's no way you would dare lay a hand on Regulus the way you used to, in a cruel means to elicit 'appropriate' behaviour. Not when you adored cuddling him so much, not when you adored pressing soft kisses into his head of curls, not when you catered to his preferences for every meal ever since that fateful day, and especially not when you would always be the first to step in between him and their father during every irate spat.

The train begins to move away from the platform, leaving you and his brother behind but Sirius occupies his seat unworried. His little brother and mother are good with each other. They're perfectly fine. Looking around him, Sirius observes the completely empty compartment aside from himself.

As the train journey continues, he stays alone. Anyone who pops their head in immediately turns away at the sight of him, fumbling with the half-hearted excuse of already having found an empty cabin elsewhere. He almost rolls his eyes at their behaviour. His family was feared for their status and 'etiquette' but that didn't mean he was the same, he was still a kid. Then again, those who peaked in were kids too...

This was going to be a long journey.

James Potter wasn't one to waste time, he was a doer. So when he finds himself unable to find a free cabin along with another two blokes, both rather shorter than him, one with brown hair, who's swamped under a grandpa sweater while the other adorns sandy-blonde locks and a neatly pressed polo shirt with slightly tattered ends, he takes charge. He leads them from one end of the train to the other, all in the search for a free cabin. The hunt was looking bleak at first but that was another thing about James Potter, he wasn't one to easily give up... even when the only cabin that seemed available was the one occupied by Sirius Black.

"Do you mind if we sit with you?" James asks, trying to mask his tense attitude towards the pureblood wizard, "It's full everywhere else,"

"Go ahead," Sirius smiles with a slight tension to his shoulders as well, gesturing to the empty seats around him. James sits directly opposite Sirius with Peter beside him, while Remus takes the seat opposite Peter and beside Sirius. It appears as though Peter knows who Sirius is and Remus is completely oblivious, his polite but blithe smile directed at the Black family firstborn being the main indicator.

"I'm James Potter," James finally introduces, confident and with his chest. The three greet him back before introducing themselves in return. The round, sandy-blonde bloke was Peter Pettigrew, the brunette dressed like a grandpa was Remus Lupin and the last of them, neat as a pin with paper-pale skin, sharp features and shiny black hair was Sirius Black but most people already knew that.

"Aren't you part of that really old pureblood family?" Remus mentions cooly, as if not understanding the gravity of his question as a muggle-born (or half-blood, James doesn't know yet).

"Yeah," Sirius replies, not appearing too pleased with the observation and remains quiet.

"You'll be in Slytherin then?" Peter blurts without knowing, catching himself only after he's voiced his invasive thought and claps his hands over his running mouth. Beneath his hands, Peter's cheeks glow a bright pink and he avoids all eye contact with everyone in the cabin, his limbs beginning to shake in fear the longer Sirius holds off on answering to his thoughts.

"I don't really want to end up there," Sirius shrugs and turns to stare out the window, perfectly happy to occupy himself with the passing scenery. He's fed up with everyone's judgemental attitude. Can't a single person give him a chance?! He isn't asking for the world!

James was shocked, "Really?!" it made him stammer how far he'd misjudged the Black family's first son.

"I'm not like the rest of my family,"

"Thank Merlin!" James dramatically sags his shoulders in relief before grinning toothily and leaning forward to clap Sirius over the shoulder, "I thought you'd be another dark pureblood prick with a stiff lip and no sense of humour,"

The tension is completely broken as soon as Sirius throws his head back and laughs without restraint, clutching his belly and shaking at the shoulders with mirth. Even Peter is relieved at Sirius' reaction, momentarily pausing in his frantic rummaging through his shoulder bag. Remus only seems to have realised the previous tension in the air from the dramatic shift it takes but continues smiling anyway, this time with more ease than before.

Sirius returns his grinning gaze to James, who mirrors his expression, "Not a prick and definitely not stiffed lip. Sense of humour, you'll have to find out later on," all those high society wizard dinners, events and soirees could have been spent in better company, James and Sirius realised. If only they dared to approach each other sooner, without their family's prejudices hanging over them, puppeteering their actions. They could have shared laughter, made fun of the boring atmosphere and become close friends. But regrets like these were minimal in the grand scheme of things. They had a full year at Hogwarts to make up for it and grow the friendship they'd missed out on.

It's then that Sirius' vision is suddenly invaded by Peter's outstretched hand and a singular, colourfully wrapped chocolate on his palm, "I'm sorry for speaking out like that," Sirius smiles and accepts the gift happily.

"You're not bad, Peter,"

Seemingly spurred on by Sirius' show of forgiveness and kindness, Peter launches into a joke he had memorised for the sake of calming his nerves at the thought of struggling to make any friends, "Hey, so why do you think toddlers are so bad at magic?"

His statement seems to be taken seriously by the three boys at first as they ponder thoughtfully for a moment. But ultimately, with no answer in mind, they shake their heads and look to the portly bloke for the solution.

"Why?" Remus prompts.

"Because they can't spell!"

It was a bad joke, so bad that Remus released a small giggle while James and Sirius laughed boisterously, more so at Peter's expectant expression than the joke itself. They couldn't believe that he thought that joke would land well but his eagerness to elicit laughter was all they needed to lose themselves in the merriment. The four of them quickly dive into meaningless but fun conversations, sometimes splitting off into conversing pairs before returning to speak as a group again. Remus tended to be quiet and leaked a more nervous disposition than others whereas Peter eagerly tried to partake in whatever conversation was around, trying to land more jokes and input his opinion wherever, even if the mismatch of tone and timing wasn't always ideal. James and Sirius were the most enthusiastic and smoothly went from one subject to the next, it was a seamless river of constant conversation that was occasionally interrupted by chewing on the delicious treats carted over by the trolley lady, as well as the need for easy silence — a necessary, trouble-free pause.

Hours passed like this and eventually, an older prefect was knocking on their compartment door to peek in and ask that they change into their school robes.

"We'll be arriving soon,"

Everyone's robes were black and didn't adorn any of the Hogwarts house colours. For now, they were a small group of friends, eagerly awaiting their new chapter of life to begin.

Sirius stood on the edge of the lake as a deep sense of anticipation churned within him, replacing the excitement evoked by getting dressed on the train. Pulling on those robes and seeing his mother's capricious but careful stitches brought a realness to the situation — he was going to be attending the most prestigious wizarding school in all of England. It felt surreal but oh so tangible from where he stood.

The small boats that would ferry the many first years across to Hogwarts bob gently in the water before them, each one enchanted to move with a simple command. Beside him, Remus, James and Peter also look forward with James appearing to be the only one still in possession of his earlier eagerness. The journey to Hogwarts was incredibly long and, by now, it was already nighttime. There was a chill in the air as the sky draped over them, coloured in the deepest twilight hue with a scattering of stars spread across it. Looming ahead was the prodigious silhouette of Hogwarts Castle. Its many turrets and towers stretched up, trying to pierce the sky as its many windows were alit with a golden glow from within — inviting and warm and magical. Once again, the excitement was back...

It appears as though the constant fight between his enthusiasm and terror of the unknown will be giving him unsteady feet and fidgeting hands for the rest of the night.

Rubeus Hagrid, the half-giant gamekeeper and groundskeeper steps into a boat with his rusty, incandescent lantern and encourages the first years to follow along behind him. Everyone was to be seated in one of the many boats as a group, some as strangers, some as newly made friends. Luckily Sirius had already found his group of friends and they were one of the first to follow along behind the half-giant. Peter was a bit scared to step into the boat but with some encouragement and light teasing, they were soon setting sail with everybody else.

"See? It's not so bad, is it, Peter?" James grins, catching sight of the sandy blonde's entranced expression as he gazes into the lake's glimmering, moonlit waters.

"We don't even need to paddle," Sirius shares a look with James and the two grin widely.

Peter musters a taut smile and nods, attempting to calm his racing heart. He seems to finally find some comfort in the glittering waters below them, "Y-yeah, not so bad,"

"Be careful not to lean too far over the edge though," Remus warns politely, "overtipping the balance might capsize the boat," Peter pales and hastily rights himself, earning a chuckle from everyone on board.

"Capsizing the boat, huh? What an adventure that will be!" James laughs brightly. He's a carefree spirit, one that Sirius can't help but be entranced by. Being around James is addictive. It's a new experience being in the presence of someone so opposite to his family's disreputable 'noble' ways. It's gotten a lot better because of his mother's recent change of heart but James is the type of person who elicits a lasting impression. Looking around the small boat they share, Sirius can tell that he's not the only one; Peter and Remus seem to be just as enchanted by the messy-haired boy's charm.

Steadily approaching Hogwarts makes the castle's colossal size more apparent. It's a massive, ancient structure that breathes with so much magic, that there's an evident vibration in the air surrounding it that makes the hairs on his skin stand up. Seeing the impressive castle in person was overwhelming but in the best way. A feeling of adventure begins to bubble in Sirius' lower belly and slowly begins to rise through him — a feverish anticipation for what he may get up to within its stone walls. It's a place where he can be truly free... finally. His mother's new attitude has been a solace and a comfort and has given him a small taste of what freedom was like but there was always the danger of his ill-tempered father. Here, Sirius feels as though he can finally, truly be free.

What a feeling...

Beneath the castle were a set of docks that the boats smoothly slid into. Hagrid was already out of his boat and holding his lantern up by the time they managed to reach him followed by the other first years. After clambering out of their buoyant vessels, Hagrid proceeds to lead everyone up a winding path, all the way up to the castle's front entrance. Its large front doors creak open and they were quickly ushered into the Entrance Hall. The vast space was cool but also warmed by the fire torches strategically placed about the perimeter, their dancing flames casting across the polished stone and giving rise to the first years' blended shadows. There's an apprehensive but electrifying buzz in the air as Hagrid bids them a temporary farewell, leaving them to a teacher.

Professor Minerva McGonagall is who she introduces herself as, the deputy headmistress and head of Gryffindor House. No wonder she was the one tasked with leading them into the Great Hall. She stands as a figure of authority and elegance.

McGonagall was not yet old. Her sharp, angular features were softened slightly by the subtle laugh lines framing her observant eyes — she isn't a stranger to smiling, though Sirius was finding it a little difficult to envision her with a grin. Her hair was a deep brown that pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, with not a single strand out of place. Her meticulous appearance only added to the impression that she was someone who did not tolerate nonsense. And yet, there was something about her that made Sirius believe she wasn't just a disciplinarian. There was an underlying warmth to her, hidden by her strict exterior as a prestigious Hogwarts professor. It's a warmth that spoke of the deep affection and care held for her students. He could see it in her eyes the same way he saw it in his changed mother's eyes — although sharp, they seemed to soften ever so slightly when looking over the younger students.

Her robes were made of a rich and heavy fabric, a dark emerald green that was almost regal in its fashion when draping over her silhouette. She moved with a grace that tactically concealed the strictness in her demeanour, each step was purposeful and her posture remained impossibly straight — the kind that his previous etiquette teacher desperately tried to force upon him, with no such luck; he was too stubborn for his own good, and he had the faded welts to prove it.

"Behind these doors is the Great Hall. And it is where you shall be sorted into your houses. There are four: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin," she explains briefly, "I will call out your name and one by one, you shall be seated and sorted by the sorting hat before the student body. You shall then sit with your house where you will wait until everyone is sorted and then we can have the opening dinner," she spoke with a clear and precise voice that had a very slight Scottish lilt to it, making her spoken words crisp and authoritative. Her voice was similar to the one his mother once had, it was the kind that cut through the chatter of a room with ease, immediately silencing those she cast her unwavering gaze upon. His mother's voice has since become much warmer and gentler as of late. And, although such an imperious voice usually made Sirius stiffen up with alertness, McGonagall didn't prompt any sort of reaction from him. She embodied a form of discipline he was familiar with but there was something more to her, and she balanced those opposing features very well.

With that, McGonagall led the group of first years into the Great Hall. Above him, the ceiling was enchanted to mirror the night sky he had just witnessed on the boat across the Black Lake, however, instead of blinking, distant stars, the night sky of the Great Hall was illuminated by floating candles. Four long tables stretched and occupied a vast amount of space in the large room. Most of the chairs by the tables were predominantly occupied except for the ones closest to the front of the room, near where the teachers had their own table, gazing over the students and smiling fondly at the first years walking in for the first time, led by the deputy headmistress.

The many students that were already seated were dressed in similar black robes but had embellishments of differing colours, colours that differentiated them into their different houses, one red, another, blue, the other, yellow and finally green. The students' eyes eagerly followed the newcomers, the youngest in the large pond that was Hogwarts. To the front of the hall, there was a raised platform with a singular stool on it, where an old hat sat — the sorting hat.

Sirius's heart pounded violently against his chest as he assembled behind the stool with the rest of the first years. McGonagall stepped up to the left of the stool and was given a scroll of parchment that listed all the names of the first years who were to be sorted. Without wasting a second, she immediately began to call them out. It was in alphabetical order according to surnames so Sirius knew that he would be one of the first to be sorted. Nevertheless, the few that came before him had a very welcoming experience. It was simple enough. Once seated, the hat would be placed on their head and after some time or very little time at all, the hat's voice boomed through the hall, echoing its final and irrevocable decision of where the student should be housed. The student was then met with the loud and welcoming cheers of their fellow housemates, who eagerly beckoned them over to their table while the head of house clapped and smiled from their seat by the rest of the staff.

Sirius's hands clenched into tight fists as he waited. The tension paralysing his limbs was unbearable. He knew what was to be expected of him. Slytherin, like all the Blacks before him. But the thought of even joining that house, of being surrounded by the same cold, pureblood superiority that he had grown up with made his intestines knot themselves up and his stomach fall into a bottomless pit. However, inside him raged an inner battle... Sirius remembers the kind softness of his reformed mother, the vivid image appearing in his head along with the ghost of her warm embrace and loving kisses — he didn't want to disappoint her. He's been granted such happiness by her recently, he didn't want to have that stolen away from him all too suddenly because of his house sorting. He wouldn't know what to do if he should be faced with the familiar disappointment and rage in her eyes once more—

Suddenly, his name was called.

"Black, Sirius!"

Silence swept the hall as Sirius stepped forth. Hundreds of eyes lingered on him all judging and wondering and evident with the same supposition he had grown up with — Slytherin. He even saw some eyes drift away after the initial call of his name. It was as if they knew what would come of the sorting and felt he didn't need the assistance of the hat to be put in a house.

As Sirius climbed the steps and sat on the stool, bitterness over the expectation placed on him, not just by his family but by complete strangers too lit his heart ablaze with stubborn denial and renunciation of the elitist house. The hat decedent far enough to cover his eyes, done past his nose, blackening out the rest of the world as the hat's voice began to ring between his ears and within his mind.

"Ah, another Black," the hat mused thoughtfully, "But not— your mind is different, you, yourself are different, aren't you? Not like the other Blacks..." The statement from the hat makes Sirius' heart skip a beat and soar higher than the sky. It was a relief, a validation of his circumstance that he deeply yearned for without even knowing until that moment. He lets the words echo in his ears and hopes to permanently stamp them into his brain. "And you're happy about that are you?" the hat chuckles, somewhat, condescendingly at him, "But you're plenty cunning and ambitious too, much like your many kinsfolk," his heart stutters in his chest again, this time with dread. The hat's words steal his breath and make his mind race with alarm. There's a pause, the hat seeming to delight in Sirius' inner conflict, his scrambled mind being the perfect entertainment for the tattered garment, "And yet, it cannot be denied how different you are, also," Sirius calms ever so slightly, able to breathe again, "yes, brave... with a fierce independence. You want to prove yourself, that's very easy to tell, to be more than what they expect or is it merely petty disobedience?"

Sirius holds his breath once more.

"Well then," the hat says decisively, its voice doubling and suddenly coming from two places at once, "it better be... GRYFFINDOR!"

His irrefutable house placement was shouted aloud, the shock giving way to a momentary, extension of silence before the hall erupts into massive applause. Sliding out from under the hat's cone body, a broad grin splits across Sirius' face.

Gryffindor! Not Slytherin!

He rushes down the steps and hurries to the Gryffindor table, who cheer wildly and smile broadly at him becoming a member. They were happy, cheering and in celebration of him. The moment he sits down, he's immediately bombarded with congratulatory slaps on the back and introductions. A boy who looked a little older than him clapped him on the shoulder with a bright grin, "Welcome to Gryffindor, mate!"

"Thanks," Sirius replied, breathless from the experience. A weight had lifted from his shoulders. For the first time in his life, he was presented with solid evidence that he was nothing like his many other rotten family members, and it felt... incredible.

The sorting ceremony continued without pause and Sirius eagerly awaited for the sorting of the friends he had made on the train. Lupin, Remus a little while after him (Gryffindor). Pettigrew, Peter came soon enough (Gryffindor). Right after him, Potter, James was sorted (Gryffindor). All of them were sorted into the proud house of the lion, symbolising bravery and courage, their robes immediately donning scarlet and golden accents.

"What luck!" James expresses as soon as he sits by them again. They share a look, their eyes twinkling and their grins pinned high up on their youthful cheeks. To think that they would be in the same house after becoming friends on the train!

Curiously, Sirius glances back at the other tables, quickly skimming over the blues and yellows to land on green accents. The Slytherins pinned him with narrowed eyes, their expressions ranging from surprise to outright disdain. Their transparent judgement, however, was easy to ignore, he wanted nothing to do with them anyway. Instead, he focuses on his fellow Gryffindors, his found family at Hogwarts. These were his people now, and he was determined to prove himself worthy of the lion's crest on his chest.

The feast began shortly after the last student was sorted. The tables were filled with an array of food that made Sirius' mouth water. Roasted chicken, platters of mashed potatoes, steaming bowls of vegetables, and an assortment of pies and puddings appeared before him — all accumulating into a delicious combined fragrance. There was no hesitation when it came to piling his plate high with every dish his heart desired. The food looked delicious but...compared to the loving and hearty meals his mother had been cooking for him the past month, only the sheer amount he was able to consume was able to satiate him after the long journey. The carefully curated flavours and the touch of a mother's love weren't there anymore. He supposes not everything can be perfect. Thankfully, the atmosphere was alive with chatter and laughter, an infectious combination that distracted him easily.

The night wore on, the food slowly disappearing from the tables, and when many of the students were no longer occupied by their food the Headmaster finally saw it fit to make his welcoming speech. Albus Dumbledore rose from his place at the staff table, surrounded by his many other professor colleagues and calls for silence. Almost immediately, the room quieted and all eyes were trained on him.

"Welcome," Dumbledore begins, his voice ancient like a dust-covered book but amiable, "welcome to Hogwarts, to those of you who have just started, I hope that the reception was favourable. And to those returning, hopefully, you are just as thrilled to spend another year with us as we are. I trust that after the long journey and heartily filled bellies, you are all ready for bed." He raises an arm and prompts the rise of several older students donning embellished badges decorated with their house colours, "your prefects will be the ones to escort you to your dorms,"

A password is required to gain access to the Gryffindor common room where only Gryffindor students are allowed. The password this time is 'sola libertas' (solitary freedom). It was exciting like having a secret place nobody else was allowed into except Sirius and his many other Gryffindor brethren.

"Your dorm rooms would have already been assigned to you and your luggage, moved accordingly," the prefect begins telling the first years as the older students head to their respective dorms, already assigned to them in their first year. Sirius can't help but feel slightly anxious at the idea that he may have to depart from his already close group of friends. Looking around, Peter, Remus and James appear to share the same sentiment; at least he wasn't alone in that regard, "these shall be your dorm room assignments for your entire education at Hogwarts. The boys' dormitories are on the left, up the staircase and down, the girls are the same but on the right," Sirius would have eagerly taken in the aesthetics of his new house's common room if he wasn't so anxious about who he would be sharing a dorm with for his entire seven years at Hogwarts. Rushing up the left staircase and down another set, he quickly finds the dormitories and goes searching for where his belongings should be, however, there wasn't any need to. On a few of the dorm room doors were a piece of paper that listed the new students that were to occupy the space. The dorms that didn't have a piece of paper attached presumably belonged to the older students who were already settled in.

Sirius scans the first door but doesn't find his name or any of the others. The second door, however, made him grin brightly. Looking over his shoulder, he attempts to turn and call out to his three new friends but is met with their curious expressions and already-approaching figures.

Catching sight of Sirius' grin, James breaks out into a light sprint, matching Sirius' grin with one of his own, "are we all sharing a dorm then?"

"You bet we are!" With a cheer, the two raise their arms to drape across one another's shoulders before facing Peter and Remus together. As soon as the remaining two heard the good news, all of them were eager to step inside and begin unpacking.

Entering the rather generous space, they find that their sleeping arrangements have already been chosen for them with their trunks placed at the foot of their beds. Everyone had a single bed to their name, a desk area, a full-length mirror, a wardrobe, a bedside table and a tall, standing lamp at their other bedside. One side of the dorm had tall windows to let in some natural light but it seemed as though a majority of their lighting would be coming from the lamps or candelabras littered about the room. At the centre of the space was a freestanding, cast iron fire heater to keep everybody warm on cold days. Most of the room was left sparse for them to decorate as they wished, there were even some empty plant pots available for those with green thumb hobbies. Or maybe it was in anticipation of a future herbology project? Nevertheless, the space was cosy and Sirius immediately felt at home as he began to unpack his things with the rest of the boys, occasionally joining in idle conversation to pass the silence.

James brought up the question of what everyone would like to do for the rest of tonight, other than unpacking. Remus was happy to just sit and read before bed, Peter simply shrugged his shoulders, already appearing exhausted by the day's events. It was up to James and Sirius to commence a game of exploding snap.

2nd September 1971

You've already sent off Sirius' letter, congratulating him on a job well done for his first day, you've even included a little gift to commemorate his sorting into Gryffindor. Thankfully, you thought to arrange everything in advance or else you wouldn't have gotten it to him on time – the prototype stage was very tedious but incredibly worth it. You only hope Sirius sees your effort and wears it religiously or else all that work would have been for nothing.

It was lonely to be in the house without him but you and Regulus are managing, it helped a lot that you still had your youngest with you — he was so incredibly precious and sweet; he almost managed to sweep your mind clear of Sirius at some points. Your developed routine didn't change much, once Regulus was in his appointed tutoring session with Peony, you went about your errands, sometimes, it required getting out of the house so you needed to be careful with your timing. You weren't comfortable knowing that, if you were late, Peony would be gone and Regulus would be home alone with his wretched father.

Over time, your sudden change of heart has had an adverse effect on Orion, who wasn't very good at hiding his anger regardless of how much he tried to suppress it. His mounting outrage was set to explode soon enough so you weren't surprised to hear his raging voice booming through number 12 Grimmauld Place, shaking the tenuous walls with his ferocity.

It didn't take a genius to foresee such an outburst and, because you knew about Sirius' sorting beforehand, you easily remained composed in the heat of Orion's violent rage. The sounds that came from his home office were unmistakably the destruction of a vase following the overturning of furniture, as well as the breakage of other miscellaneous things. You couldn't tell the extent seeing as you remained as far away from his office as much as possible, the way one would avoid a radioactive area. Orion himself was made of pure radiation.

Soon enough, Orion's seething figure barrelled out of his office with a force that had the door slamming against the wall. Stepping through, his imposing silhouette was ablaze with dark flames that were rooted to his sizeable, shaking shoulders. He didn't seem satisfied with the rampage he had in his room and immediately went to throw about the hallway furnishings as well. What a baby... (Eye roll).

Regulus should be in the home library reading up on material Peony asked him to review, a diligent and bright student, your perfect baby boy. However, when you turn in the library's direction, you see Regulus peeking out with the most horrified expression you've ever seen. It breaks your heart and quickly make your way over to him, ignoring your pathetic excuse for a husband.

"I'm sorry about your father, dear," you whisper as soon as you get to his side.

"M-mother—" his stutter comes to a stop when he sees you shake your head and observes your soft expression. You've been able to sense his thoughts a lot more clearly, always attentive to his needs and wants, like a good mother should. You assume he was feeling at fault for his father's rage when he couldn't be further from the truth.

Just in case, you reiterate the fact to him, "It's not your fault, sweetheart," bringing him into an embrace, you give his shaking figure an assuring squeeze while you press a kiss to his temple, "Let's go to your room, okay? Ignore your father," you didn't wait for an answer and whispered a 'muffliato' charm around his ears. Rather than hearing his pathetic father's rage, he is accompanied by you and a slight buzzing sound whilst traversing the hallway from the library to his bedroom.

You don't immediately release the muffliato charm from Regulus' ears. The first priority was getting him into bed, nice and cosy, the next was soundproofing the room with the imperturbable charm and ensuring that the door was locked, just in case Orion wanted to invade Regulus' space too. As an additional measure, you call for Kreacher and ask him to warn you if Orion ever sets his eyes on Regulus' bedroom, to which the house elf immediately obliges. With everything set, you finally lift the muffliato charm from Regulus.

"What's father upset about, Mother?" Regulus curls in on himself beneath the covers, tucking his chin over his knees as his arms wrap around his covered shins. The sight makes your heart clench painfully. He looked so scared and small, he didn't look like your bright and shining boy anymore... Orion that prick!

"Your father received news of Sirius' house sorting," the dreaded look that crosses Regulus' face saddens you further. You do your best to calm him down by sitting at his bedside and combing your fingers through his hair. "Your father isn't setting the best example by throwing a tantrum over something so trivial," the comment was your attempt at distracting Regulus from the situation, "don't worry about him, okay? He's only being a big baby for throwing such a fuss,"

"H-he can't do anything to Sirius though..." Regulus responds, his mind far too occupied with worry for his older brother, "he's all the way in Hogwarts, Father won't be able to get to him," your youngest's pleading eyes blink up at you for confirmation, seeking comfort. His only comfort is the knowledge of his brother's safety.

"No, he can't," Regulus relaxes ever so slightly as you press another kiss onto the crown of his head, "Not to worry, my dear, everything will be okay," with some gentle prodding, you manage to get Regulus into your lap where you lock him in a comforting embrace and begin to hum a random but soft tune. Your pathetic excuse of a husband should know better than this, he's being such a sensitive little prick. No wonder Sirius had such issues with his anger before you got here. It was all Orion's influence... and probably the original Walburga too.

"What a bad influence he is..." you mutter absentmindedly, the bitterness in your expression tangible.

"You're not talking about Sirius are you?!" Regulus looks up in alarm, pushing against you so he can stare into your eyes and seems to want to pull away completely.

"Of course not," you reassure in a hurry, wanting to curse yourself for being so loose-lipped. He's still pulled away slightly and you thought it best to allow him to return to your embrace in his own time, "I was talking about your father," Regulus watches with observant eyes as you shake your head disapprovingly and tut, "even though Sirius has been angry for a long time, he's gotten much better with managing his emotions, don't you think?" Regulus nods and slowly begins to fold into your arms again, "I bet you that Sirius would respond much better to bad news than your father,"

"...what happened mother?..."

With the happiest smile, you whisper the news against your youngest's soft, inky locks, "Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor,"

Regulus pulls away in shock but his eyes are sparkling with wonder, "really?!"

"Really,"

"That makes him the first one ever in our family,"

Nodding enthusiastically, the both of you share a smile, "yes it does, aren't you proud of your big brother?" you ask with a giggle. Naturally happy for Sirius, Regulus nods without missing a beat.

"You're proud of him too, mother?" you almost miss Regulus' concerned tone due to your own excitement.

"Always," you hold him close and squeeze him once more, "I'll always be proud of my beautiful sons. Seeing the two of you grow into your personalities and into men will always be cause for celebration," Regulus wraps his arms around your shoulders and presses his face into the base of your neck, inhaling the new fragrance against your skin — his mother never used to wear such gentle fragrances, Regulus doesn't believe his mother ever used to wear fragrance at all but having such a pretty and pleasant scent to associate you with after your change of heart makes him so happy.

"You won't be mad if I'm sorted into a different house like Sirius, right?"

"Never." you were resolute and felt the smile curling Regulus' lips against your skin.

"Not even if I'm in Gryffindor too?"

His cheekiness makes you laugh freely, "It'll be tough being outnumbered by two Gryffindors but even then... even then, I'll be so proud and so happy for both of you,"

Your moment is broken by the sudden appearance of Kreacher who warns you of Orion's approaching figure, as promised. The warning has you jumping to your feet and tucking Regulus back into bed. His small hand reaches for your own and you easily weave your fingers together for comfort.

BANG!

For the man to have the audacity to kick at Regulus' door makes your blood boil. Living in such a magical world, you know that the door wouldn't stay locked forever so you step over to block Regulus' view of Orion, subsequently hiding Regulus and keeping him from the danger that was his father's irate gaze.

"LOCKING DOORS MY HOUSE?!"

"Get out, Orion," you order plainly and with an unamused expression.

"WHAT?!"

"Regulus and I have every right to lock our doors if we don't want your company, especially when it's so unpleasant. Now, get out,"

Ignoring your words, Orion steps to the side and makes direct eye contact with Regulus, who begins to shake. His small hand clenched around your fingers with such force that your circulation gets obstructed but you pay it no mind – whatever he needs to feel safe in that moment.

"If you don't go to Slytherin, you're going to be as big of a disappointment as your no-good brother!"

"Orion!" you shout in disbelief, too shocked at the asshole's audacity to do much else.

"You shan't go anywhere else! I'll throw you into the vault for an entire month otherwise! And then you're gone from this family! DO YOU HEAR ME?! LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M SPEAKING TO YOU REGULUS!"

Rushing forward, you push Orion back with such force, that he almost makes it out of the door. And before he can protest, you continue pushing him until he is out in the hallway. If it wasn't for Regulus being there, you would have clobbered him the good 'muggle' way but you had to set a good example for Regulus and managed to repress your emotions until the bedroom door was closed. Finally, you and Orion were alone in the hallway.

"Walburga you—!"

"Calm yourself, Orion! You're frightening Regulus and you're frightening me! Stop it this instant!" Orion looks at you with utter disbelief, his eyes, still ablaze with anger, gradually mixed with swirling pools of shock and perplexity. The woman who stands before him is not the wife he married and disciplined his sons with.

"Have you not read the letters?!" Orion tries to put logic behind your actions, his befuddlement completely disorienting him — thankfully, he's managed to lower his voice, somewhat.

"Of course I have!" you hiss, lying through your teeth. The night of Sirius' first day, the letters already started to pour in but you hadn't opened a single one, already knowledgeable of the news you were going to receive from them. With a dramatic huff, Orion crosses his arms and looks at you with an expression of 'well?', silently asking you to explain yourself but instead, you're turning away completely. "I'll be right back," I have something more important to address right now.

"Walb—!" you pay the bastard no attention and re-enter Regulus' room. On his bed, you find your youngest shaking in fear and with the most distraught expression you've ever seen him wear. His appearance peaking out from the library couldn't match the astronomical distress he was now experiencing.

Regulus is definitely more important right now...

"Don't worry, my darling," you whisper, embracing him as soon as you seat yourself at his bedside once more, "let mommy handle him. You're going to be alright, I promise. I won't ever let him harm you or your brother," kissing his forehead, you call for Kreacher once more and request that he keep Regulus company while you have a talk with Orion.

"Kreacher will be happy to stand by the young master Regulus," in your peripheral, you see the two share a small smile with Regulus's coming out much more hesitant and shaky. He's such a sweet, brave boy it makes your heart swell with pride but also ache with remorse that he's having to be like this at such a young age.

"I'll be right back, dear," you make sure to give him another kiss on the forehead before leaving. In your periphery, you glimpse Kreacher reaching out to take his young master's hand.

"How dare you speak to my son that way!" you finally burst with rage, pointing an accusatory finger at Orion and poking into his chest with your nail repeatedly, "Threatening him is not the right way to raise him! Leave Regulus out of this! I can't believe you're throwing such a huge tantrum over a school house! You aren't setting a good example! You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Orion, despite his bafflement, is quick to talk back with just as much bite and snark, "What in the world are you talking about?! Are you telling me that you're willing to accept that our son was sorted into Gryffindor?!" Orion is shocked at his wife's hypocrisy. There was a mounting urge within him to confront her new attitude, however, the matter of Sirius' sorting was much more urgent for the time being.

"It's a Hogwarts house, Orion, it's not the end of the world," his jaw hits the floor but you simply roll your eyes at him, "Our blood running through his veins is enough. Knowing that he's our son is enough. He should be free to live in the house the sorting hat puts him into — and you should be happy, being sorted into Gryffindor means that Sirius is brave and chivalrous, both are amazing qualities for our son to have!"

"It also means that he'll be spending most of his time around blood traitors and mudbloods who will surely corrupt his mind!" you try not to outwardly cringe at his use of such derogatory terms, and in such a spiteful tone too. This man is so full of hate and menace – it isn't safe to have him around your sons. "I'm making a trip to Hogwarts tomorrow! Whether you accompany me or not will be your choice! I'm sending the letter to Hogwarts tonight!"

He storms back to his office without allowing you the chance to retort or offer your opinion on the decision. His blatant disregard of you and Regulus makes you bristle with rage, you feel like a cat who tensed up in warning. If he bothers you again for the rest of the day, you'll drop-kick his sorry ass. Thankfully, a few deep breaths were good for placating your annoyance — besides, this occasion gave you the perfect opportunity.

"Kreacher," you call in a calm voice. In a heartbeat, your dedicated house elf stands before you, willing to obey. The smile you wear is a complete contrast to what you ask of him and you almost have to keep yourself from snorting in amusement when his eyes make to pop out of their sockets from shock.

"M-mistress be wantin' a s-s-separate room?"

"Yes, Kreacher," it was plain and simple, "Please transfer all my belongings as well. I won't be able to stand sleeping next to such an idiotic husband," Kreacher flinches at the insult as if it was directed at him personally. The wrinkled house elf has never seen the proud patriarch and matriarch of the Black house argue to the point of demanding separate rooms. It was already such an insult for the Mistress to request a sleeping elsewhere that it was almost unnecessary to call the Master an 'idiot' after that point. "But before that, would you mind clearing up Orion's mess in the hall? — Not his office, however, he can clean that disaster up himself,"

"It be best if Kreacher transfers Mistress' room first t-to avoid Master Orion's wrath..." Kreacher only realises what he's said after he'd already spoken the words. He couldn't believe he had felt comfortable enough—impudent enough to suggest doing the tasks differently to how his mistress directed, it goes against how house elves should behave! Before you can react, Kreacher drops to the floor and grovels at your feet incoherently. You're only able to make out the words 'sorry', 'bad elf' and 'punishment' before Kreacher crawls to the hallway bannister and begins aggressively hitting his head against the railing. The awful sound of his head making contact with the bannister makes you gasp and rush forward to stop him, hauling him back by his small shoulders.

"Kreacher stop that!" you plead, worried eyes falling over his forehead as your hand goes up to gently trace the area, "Goodness, there's no need to punish yourself for making a helpful suggestion, Kreacher," you release a breath of relief when you hardly see any lasting damage. Thankfully he was built tougher than steel. Kreacher continues to look at you with widened eyes and parted lips. First, it was his Master Regulus being kind to a lowly elf like himself, and now, it was his Mistress. He's such a blessed elf, he can't help but feel joy from being given such kindness so freely, "I was going to say that it's a good idea and you should do it in the order you feel is best. But now I demand that you rest for an hour, at least, I'll get you some dittany to put on your bump,"

"K-Kreacher will do it, Mistress! Mistress is already being too kind to this unworthy house elf,"

"Unworthy?" you arch a brow and kneel before the elf with a frown, "Kreacher, you have served me and my family well for many years. Regulus thinks of you as his friend and you've been getting along well with Sirius too. You even put up with my idiotic husband," you offer a gentle smile, "even if you weren't those things, everyone deserves rest and to be treated with care when they are hurt. It'll only take a moment, I'm not angry at you—" you move to stand back up and make your way to the potions cupboard downstairs but Kreacher is already shaking his head in protest.

"Mistress is too kind, Kreacher will do it!" he states firmly and disappears with a snap of his fingers. For a moment, he looked a little taller and not so gloomy. The image makes you smile slightly before sighing in defeat — what a stubborn elf you have.

You have Regulus in your arms once again, the two of you sat atop his bed and against the headboard. Thankfully, Orion hasn't been as disruptive after isolating himself in his office and you were able to lift the imperturbable charm from the door.

"You've got nothing to worry about, my love," combing your fingers through your youngest's dark curls, you whisper the assurance into the air. You've notified him of what Orion plans to do the next day and he immediately freezed up again. It was a reaction you anticipated and wished you didn't have to deliver the news at the foresight, but it was always better to be honest. And you're sure you wouldn't be able to hide the news for long, seeing as his father would be taking action by early morning, tomorrow. "Nothing bad will happen to Sirius, I'll make sure of it,"

Regulus still has his face pressed up against the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he clings to your figure for dear life. His worry was evident and, although it was saddening to see, your heart soared knowing of the close bond the brothers had. You won't allow them to have such a horrible falling out in the future, knowing that they care for each other so deeply, "Sirius is so lucky to have such a caring and thoughtful younger brother like you," Regulus sniffles and pulls away to look at you with glassy eyes, his lip slightly wobbly. He feels guilty for basking in your praise and feeling so happy by it when Sirius was in danger. Gently swiping your thumb under his eye, you whisper an alliance, "Let's promise to protect Sirius together tomorrow, okay?"

"We're going to see him?" Regulus couldn't believe his ears. Hope began to wrap around his heart. The feeling was and allowed him to smile once more, blinking away his tears as he did so.

"Your father insists on it,"

"I thought it was only father going,"

You shake your head and smirk deviously, "we're going too~"

For a moment, Regulus really thought Sirius was going to be harmed by their father but, knowing that you plan on accompanying him, was a comfort. And you planned on taking him with you too! Regulus doesn't know what he'd be capable of doing when it came to protecting his older brother but he had full confidence knowing that you would be there with him. The two of you share a smile — a silent union with the same purpose.

"What would you like me to read to you tonight?" you ask ever so softly, a gentle way of diverting the subject matter for the sake of Regulus' bedtime.

"The Wind in the Willows," Regulus immediately answers. It was an enchanting tale and nothing like the stories from 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. Muggles were really creative and, although it was bizarre trying to imagine forest creatures living a lot like how humans live, it was enchanting. Regulus was grateful that you were willing to read him books written by muggles — he wouldn't have known how wonderful their stories were, otherwise.

"You really like that story don't you?" you joke, already accio-ing the book into your hands. It was one of your favourites growing up too and you always dreamed of reading it to your future children. Now that you had Regulus and Sirius for sons, they weren't about to be the exception.

Regulus flushes a soft pink beneath his adorable freckles, "it's just so charming,"

Kissing his temple, you smile and open the book to the first chapter, "I understand, darling, you have amazing taste," he looks away when you send him a wink before finally beginning his favourite storybook. 

2nd September 1971

Breakfast was just as grand of an affair as the previous night’s extravagant first dinner. Again, the food didn’t have as much loving care put into it nor were its tastes carefully curated for his palette, unlike his mother’s home cooking. However, Sirius was still managing to satiate himself with second helpings. Some students were still dressed in their pyjamas for breakfast, which made perfect sense, considering breakfast was from 7:30 to 8:50 in the morning – getting their stomachs filled was far more important than getting dressed earlier than necessary.

“Have you guys tried the pancakes?” Peter raved through a half-eaten mouthful of said pancakes.

“Oh yeah!” James responds, also with a half-eaten mouthful of pancakes. Remus manages a weak laugh at their display, clearly not a morning person as he sips his tea and slowly butters his toast before reaching for the jam. Sirius and the boys, like many other students, were still dressed in their pyjamas from the night before. Morning announcements were relayed to them by their respective house ghosts, who made brief introductions the night before, after dinner and on the way to their common rooms. It was a good thing too, because Sir Nicholas –the ghost for Gryffindor House– had the horrible habit of showcasing his near-headless-ness as if he was tipping a hat in greeting. It was a fascinating sight but not when everyone was enjoying their meal.

“First years are to spend the first half of today with prefects touring the castle,” the ghostly Nicholas announces, thankfully having the decency to repress his usual urge of tipping his head.

“Thank you, Sir Nicholas,” Remus smiles politely over the rim of his tea cup. The ghost nods in acknowledgement before proceeding to the other first years further down the table.

Breakfast continued with the usual chatter between mouthfuls until a slew of hoots permeated the air and owls swooped through with a flourish. Some delivered newspapers to the teachers at the staff table, but groups carried a stack of parchment to the head of each house table before dispersing. Groups of prefects sorted through their respective house stacks, grabbing piles of each and proceeding to hand them over to the other students. For the names they didn’t seem to recognise, the prefects carefully shouted them out and asked for a raised hand. In due time, the boys received their timetables. First-years were told that today was the only exception to the schedule as they were going to receive a tour of the castle from the prefects, who were being overseen by the head boy and head girl. There were excited whispers between those who were especially eager, about doing their best with the tours so that they may be able to become next year’s head boy or girl.

From all the activity, it seemed that most people were finally beginning to blink away the sleep from their eyes and gain some alertness for the day. Sirius thought most of the activity was done with, however, already loading up his plate for his third helping when another hoot sliced through the air. It was Owletta, Sirius’ owl. When everyone looked up, they saw the elegant barn owl swoop down and gracefully deliver Sirius’ letter along with a small, neatly wrapped box. She was gone as quickly as she had entered, all in a looping ribbon of gold and white feathers.

“A letter already?” James asks, the surprise evident in his wide-eyed and jaw-dropped expression, “It looks like you got a gift too, I’m kinda jealous,” he teases as whispers erupt from the Slytherin table.

Sirius turns his chin over his shoulder, curious about the whispers and immediately meets the smirking gaze of his elder cousin, Bellatrix Black. She’s openly snickering at him and doesn’t break away from his stare. Her eyes are dark and challenging, daring him to open his letter and see what’s inside, eliciting a feeling of dread from deep in Sirius’ stomach. The panic and fear and unease had been building since the previous night’s sorting ceremony. It never seemed to calm despite Sirius’ countless efforts to ignore it. He stares down at his letter and the small gift beside it, both vibrating in his hold, appearing to build towards their timely detonation. But they weren’t going to explode… Sirius realised it was because of his own hands shaking.

Surely his mother was disappointed in him, right? That was what the letter would say…but why a gift?

“Aren’t you going to open them?” Remus prompts as the two other boys look on with piqued interest, Peter disregarding his plate to do so.

Sirius does not answer as he continues to observe his postal deliveries. The letter doesn’t appear to be a howler. Instead of the screaming letters’ signature red envelope, his letter was in a simple off-white envelope — a normal letter. His gift was decorated in matte-black wrapping paper. It was wrapped in such a way that the folds crossed over each other in neat and crisp lines, creating a design that was immediately recognised by James.

“That looks like the gifts I got wrapped when buying stuff in Japan on a family holiday,” James alerts with interest, “but it never came with a plant,”

Sirius pulls out the arrow-shaped plant with it’s stems tucked in the crisp folds. It had many small leaves and a slightly bumpy stem, “what plant is this?”

“It looks like a fern to me,” Remus inputs helpfully.

“I see…” Sirius finds himself staring down at his letter and gift once more. He’s stalling.

“It feels too pretty and neat to unwrap, doesn’t it?” James asks from experience, remembering how he didn’t have the heart to undo the artistry put into wrapping the gift, “I felt that way too but you’ll be missing out on your gift mate. Open it,”

“Yeah! It must be special since you’re getting it so early,” Peter adds, eagerly leaning forward to closely observe what Sirius may unravel. Steeling his nerves, Sirius forces his hands to stop shaking before proceeding to carefully unfold the carefully wrapped gift, on the table the delicate sprig of fern it came with.

Unwrapping the black paper revealed a small, sturdy box that looked as if it held precious jewellery. After a brief moment of pondering what may be inside, Sirius finally lifted the lid and revealed a beautiful red pin, shaped like a shield with gold accents sitting on a black velvet cushion. The metal pin was decorated with a gold, standing lion in the middle. It was a sleek and minimalist design that begged to be picked up and put on. Turning the pin over in his palm, Sirius gasps at the message engraved on the back, his heart racing in his chest as he fights off a beaming smile and the flood of tears threatening to streak down his cheeks in rivers.

‘A Shield To Protect My Brave, Daring And Noble Son’

Above the quote was his name in beautiful cursive and below the quote, in the same elegant handwriting read: ‘Love, Mother’.

Others who observe his state, look on in concern, not knowing what’s happened as Sirius curls in on himself and clutches the pin to his chest with both hands. Worried for their new friend, James, Remus and Peter look at each other with worry. It was Remus who was the first to react, however. The brunette brings up a hand to softly pat Sirius on the back, being the one closest to him in the seating arrangement.

“Did it say something bad?” Peter gently brings up, frightened at the prospect of upsetting his emotional friend by bringing up the subject.

“I don’t think so,” Remus observes and responds in a whisper.

James keeps his focus directly on Sirius, frowning deeply at the sight of his friend’s suddenly much smaller frame, “What’s wrong, Siri?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong…” Sirius manages to smile up at them, blinking away the tears and biting his lip in a vain attempt to suppress his beaming smile. Finally seeing his smiling face, his three friends breathed a synchronised sigh of relief.

“Don’t scare us like that, mate,” James laughs weakly and claps him on the shoulder, “we thought something horrible happened,”

Sirius only shakes his head before looking upon his still unopened letter. He thinks he can finally have the courage to open it now. The handwriting belongs to his mother so, with the knowledge that the pin was a gift for his sorting, Sirius concludes that the letter’s contents can only bode the same congratulatory message… right?

When Sirius finally unfolds the letter and reads its contents he begins to cry silently. His vision gets blurred by the river of tears falling from his wide, disbelieving eyes and he has to rapidly blink them away to try and read his letter intelligibly; he has to know that the words on the letter paper are real and that it isn’t an illusion his mind conjured up to cope with the thought of losing his newly loving mother’s affections. Growing concerned, James and Peter cross the table to stand behind Sirius and look over his shaking shoulders to read what the letter says along with Remus.

‘My dearest son, Sirius,’ 

The letter opened, the tone already loving and so so proud.

‘I have received the wonderful news of your sorting and to say that it brings me such great joy would be an understatement. My beautiful son, sorted into the house of lions, brave and courageous — today, I am given the blessing of being an even prouder mother than I already stand.’

Sirius chokes back a sob and ends up releasing a strangled laugh instead. He could never have anticipated such a letter from his mother. Ever. To read the words on the elegantly decorated parchment felt surreal.

‘In celebration, I have prepared a gift for you. I hope it gives you protection and good fortune. Please wear it with pride, the same way I will happily announce to the world that you are my son and the first son in the Black family to be sorted into Gryffindor house. How special you are! And how lucky I am to be the mother of such a noble and brave son.’

The words make Sirius’ heart clench in an almost painful joy as his chest swells with pride and relief. For a moment, he goes about attaching his pin to his robes but finds that his hands are too shaky and his vision too blurred to be able to do it properly or safely. Disregarding the task altogether, he returns to reading his letter with a defeated laugh.

‘I wish I was there to see you sorted personally. Although, I’m afraid I would have embarrassed you in front of your new friends if that were the case, for I would have been the loudest to cheer in the entire hall,’

Remus, James and Peter chuckle from behind him and over his shoulder when they read about your suspected reaction.

“That would’ve been a sight,” Remus comments with a suppressed chuckle.

“The thing is… I think my mum would have been the exact same,” James adds with a lopsided smirk, showcasing his singular, asymmetrical dimple.

“Y-your mum sounds so different to the rumours…“ Peter whispers almost too silently, making Sirius’ breath hitch. He’s so glad for his mother’s change in demeanour, he can hardly remember the last time she scowled in disappointment or disgust at him — he doesn’t care much for trying to remember such a sight however; his mother’s loving smile is so much more suited to her face and so much easier to remember.

‘Regulus is just as thrilled at the result of your sorting. The both of us are current rivals in the feelings of pride and joy over your destined house. I believe that he’s become especially eager to join you in Gryffindor one day.’

Sirius chuckles at the prospect, laughing through the tears as he imagines his younger brother, soft-hearted and demure but witty and sharp as a knife in, both, knowledge and humour, sorted into Gryffindor. If Regulus were to be sorted in the same house as him, Sirius would happily accept the result with open arms. He loved his brother so much that being able to spend time with him at Hogwarts, in the same house, breathed promises of the most fun times and precious memories he could ever experience.

‘If that were to come true, I’m afraid I’d have my hands full being completely outnumbered by two Gryffindors in the house. You’ll have to excuse this mother’s inexperience but I’ll be happy all the same, so it can’t be too bad of an outcome, can it?’

The good humour makes Sirius giggle to himself, overcome with a dopey enchantment he just can’t seem to shake. His tears have dried up and left behind were a pair of rosy cheeks, glittering silver eyes and a beaming grin. His friends share in his happiness, the loving and prideful words on the paper seeping beneath their skin and influencing their moods as well.

‘Without any further embellishments, all I want you to know, my darling son, is that I am proud of you. And so incredibly happy too. You were always very daring and valiant, you had the heart of a lion without even knowing it. It was an unexpected sorting but I can’t say that I’m too surprised. A mother just knows these things. You are where you belong, I only hope that they treat you well there and that you continue being as audacious and fearless as you’ve always been. I love you, Sirius, please never forget that. Love, Mother’

Sirius tucks the letter back into its envelope sleeve before placing it in the breast pocket of his pyjamas, along with the custom pin, carefully stored back in its cushioned box. He will treasure these two simple items forever. He didn’t believe happiness like this could have ever existed but here he was, experiencing it first-hand. It almost felt too good to be true but when he reads it over and over again as soon as he returns to his dorm room to change into his school robes for the day, the realness of the letter and the gift are reinforced over and over.

“I forgot you’re in a family full of Slytherins,” James comments absentmindedly as he throws on his robes without much care for their alignment. Sirius mirrors the action, the lack of care for his appearance is new but freeing and he enjoys it, guilt-free. “I bet you’re relieved to receive a letter like that, considering what most of your family were sorted into,” Peter is nodding along in the background, flashing Sirius a moderate smile, still finding it hard to act freely in most interactions — it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with some valuable time spent together.

Remus perks up and eyes Sirius with sympathy, “That is a relief then…your mother seems to really love you though,” Sirius nods in confirmation, elated that he can share things about his mother happily like this. It no longer feels right to complain about home negativities nor did he feel as though he could openly disgrace his mother’s name.

He’s spoiled by happiness and love, now, even if it was only for a short period of time. And he’s slowly growing a greed for it. Sirius wants to keep making you happy and knowing that all he has to do is be himself, like he was at the sorting ceremony, allows a grin to spread over his lips in pure joy.

He cannot wait to receive your next letter…

NEXT. | 06 : POTIONEER → | SERIES M.LIST

A/N : what a long chapter that was, but very appropriate for my official come back eh? how was it for you darlings? are you excited? I'm sorry about what happened to reggie and what may happen to sirius but we're going to be there for them so don't worry too much, this is a fix-it-fic after all! hehe~ i hope you're excited for what'll happen next because i certainly am! there's so much i still have planned so i don't think there'll be many slow chapters in the future, I'm just a little worried about my execution -- nevertheless, i'll do my best! 

lastly, thank you, everyone, for your support of this series so far! it means so much to me to know that this is being received so well and that more people than i originally thought are enjoying the plot. i was originally going to write a simple imagine/timestamp of this and just leave it at that, but I'm happy my friends encouraged me to turn it into a series. thank you again, my darlings! see you in the next chapter! 

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites