#but i had a lot of fun! w line weights…….

[jays-supersonic-dynamo]

something for @ataraxixx ‘s super cute dtiys real quick!!

[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

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.2) NSFW

W/C: 3.2k #NSFW, THEY FUCKIN', bottom!reader, top!sukuna, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna ignores feelings through the force of sheer willpower, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, blood as lube (SORRY), Sukuna unhinged horknee, ABO elements

A/N: I wanted to make this include more parts, but I am so flabbergasted and in awe of the response to this fic that I feel the need to feed y'all feral creatures LMAO. JKJK but 👀 Thank you for all the feedback and support! It really gives me the motivation to continue writing and to interact with the JJK community. I'm having a lot of fun!

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah

“What the fuck is this?” Sukuna drawled, an intense fury simmering through his being. His gaze couldn't tear free from you, not even to size up the blindfolded weirdo watching him intently. 

He shattered the coffin, freeing you from the makeshift cursed bath some freak had forced you into. He smoothed damp hair from your sickly face and searched for sparks of life somewhere in the cold stillness that'd overtaken you. And there was something. He found it, a little glimmer of vitality in the smallest, shakiest inhale. 

“Good,” he praised, brushing your hair back more and more to get a better look at your face. You looked like the frail little thing he saved all those decades ago.

“You know,” Gojo interrupted, but Sukuna paid him no mind, “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you actually cared about that kitsune.” 

“Then you don't know what this is,” Sukuna decided blandly. “Figures.” Kenjaku kept him off the record, huh? Guess that's a bonus.

“Oh? Do you wanna enlighten me before Yuuji comes back?” Gojo smiled, as if he really expected Sukuna to play nice and be honest with him. “Come on, come on, it's your chance to be vulnerable~” 

“Tch. Pretty damn sure the fox'll be the one to tell you.” His hand smoothed over your stomach and rubbed slow, gentle circles against your skin as reverse technique sought to bring you all back to him. “He yaps about as much as your insufferable ass does. Granted, he talks a lot nicer.” 

“Wow, rude.” Gojo sighed and clapped twice as if clapping on a light. “Okay! I've had enough bullying. Yuuji–” 

“Brat, don't you fucking dare–” 

Yuuji inhaled sharply. He blinked owlishly at your calmed expression, your eyes now closed and breathing now steadied thanks to Sukuna's aid. 

Aid. That wasn't something the king did. 

“Sensei,” Yuuji managed, voice quivering under the weight of memories’ emotion. “Can you fix this?”

Somehow, you were stuck in the throes of flirtation with the malevolent king of curses. 

“It may be courtship,” Uraume guessed, soft smile brightening their cold exterior. 

(They'd been smiling more recently, actually, ever since you completed that overcoat and presented it to them. Nary a day went by when they did not don the sentimental garb.)

But you weren't so sure; the event of courtship was serious business across all lucid creatures. Animals and creatures of primal existence sought out partners with favorable genes and strong constitution, whereas humans and the like yearned for merit or love in their coupling. You didn't quite grasp the way humans thought. Not yet. 

Well, save for flirting. You decided it was a sort of pre-courtship where nothing became serious and nothing was on the line, but frivolous touches and haughty words of praise ran rampant when those concerned crossed paths. 

Much like today.

(Much like the days before and after.)

You walked along the stone-paved path most mornings, lost in thoughts and mumbling to yourself bits and pieces of poems. Most were unfinished, but in their own time, verses would find one another and complete the incomplete. 

A groggy yawn hummed from the palace entrance. And moments later, Ryoumen Sukuna fell into step with you, grumbling and mumbling complaints about the nippy Spring morning while he tucked his arms away into his sleeves. 

He followed you, idly looking around the expansive space you'd helped curate and maintain when you weren't busying yourself with the girls or decorating clothing. The gardens weren't a mess before, not at all, but now they had a certain taste–trees and flowers were planted with specificity, stones were moved, paths reworked. You took the outside over completely. The king didn't mind. 

“Sukuna-sama,” you said, voice melting in kind with the morning frost. “I'll need to leave for a short while.” 

Sukuna quirked a brow and looked at you. You gazed upon the large, thick koi flashing their beautiful scales and ornate patterns of orange and white as they swam and followed you. Tch. How come even the fish were drawn to you? 

“And how do you think you'll accomplish that?” Sukuna tossed a rock into the koi pond, making the fish scatter. “Getting away from me isn't something you can do.”

You huffed and looked at him. “I understand. I simply seek your permission.” 

“Denied.”

“Ah.” You deadpanned. “Why?”

“You're mine; I decide where you go, how you breathe, if you eat. Or are you forgetting that?” 

You sighed and let your ears droop sadly with your tails. “Surely you jest.” 

“Are you laughing?”

You whined like a sad, sad street pup before cozying up to him, slipping your hands up his stomach and chest like you were supposed to. “Please?” 

“No.” 

You chittered and pressed your face against him, but didn't protest and complain much more. 

Sukuna’s thoughts whirled. The show was amusing, sure, but you didn't do anything without reason, especially when it had to do with breaking character and acting out like this out of–

Oh? 

Sukuna leaned down and sniffed you, searching for the intriguing coil of flowery citrus he nearly missed on the warming breeze. It was so, so faint, but decadent and alluring in a way that made the master of toxins cautious–most poisons tasted sweet, after all. 

You pulled your head back, shrinking down the slightest bit with your ears flattened against your skull. Your eyes, wide as a full moon, stared up at him, expectant. The touch of your hands on him never left, though.

“Brassavola nadosa.” Sukuna tilted his head. “You smell like it.” 

You blinked curiously, relaxing. “Is that so?” 

We don't have that orchid in the garden. Sukuna hummed and lifted a lock of your hair, catching another weak waft of the flower's faint scent. 

It's coming from him, then. Hm. 

“Tell me again why you want to leave the palace?” Sukuna asked on a hunch.

And that hunch doubled down when you fidgeted with the cloth of his haori and looked aside. 

“I wish to bear children," you admitted, shy and quiet. "To try, at the very least. Perhaps find a mate, too.” 

Children. You wanted children. After everything those sorcerers put you through for who knows how many years, you still wanted to mother a runt of your own. And you were willing to run off into the wild to, what, let some random man knock you up? Fill you with seed of unknown origin, unknown value, unknown potential?

Sukuna's ego flared. He leaned down to you, tilting your chin up to make you look him in the eyes regardless how small you felt in that moment. He deserved to witness you. You deserved to witness him. 

“You're not leaving,” he breathed, and he swore he could hear your heart break. “If you want a brat, you'll get a brat–only if you stay here 'n give up on those shitty thoughts of finding a sire out there.”

Your eyes scanned his face, tracing over serious lines and honest creases. Clearly, you searched for an answer–

“How?” 

–one that Sukuna didn’t have. Or maybe he did. Perhaps he just couldn't find the words for it. 

He scoffed and ruffled up your hair, unable to answer you. “You're not leaving. Not unless I say so.” 

The first time he let you go, he left scars. 

He found you in your chambers come early evening. Your tails swished and flicked as you sat amidst a nest of his robes and the missing linens from his chambers while you futzed over the embroidery of another haori, this time adorning the plain thing with the darkest scarlet one could find. Sukuna could already guess why. 

Your being burns as wildfires do. Lively. Emphatically. Devouring more and more so long as the earth lets you. Yet where you do not lay ruin, you grant warmth and light in a divine way. Wildfires are not such horrible things if one stays a respectable ways away. 

Your poetic nonsense irritated him to no end, but he fell enamored all the same; you spoke to honor him with every utterance of his name. You didn't try to kiss his feet nor did you bask him in compliments–you only spoke into existence that which hummed through your mind, unprovoked. It just so happened to be everything Sukuna liked to hear. 

So when he found you secluded away, beckoning so sweetly with intoxicating scents of citrus and gardenia, what choice did he have but to lay claim, to give you the brat you so sorely yearned for?  

You sensed him. Your gaze flicked to him, stoic and unmoved as ever, as the energy in the room built into suffocating silence, something like tectonic plates caught in deadlock, holding their disastrous energy, waiting for the right moment to devastate the world with a single, cataclysmic shift.

And of course, it was the impatient predator that moved first, setting a catastrophe into motion. 

The hours blurred together. 

Every minute of the chase was thrilling, invigorating, surprising–you were filled with tricks and traps, never slowing down for a second to think or doubt as the beast of a sorcerer pursued you through his palace, through the city below, and now into the looming forest in the mountains. 

Admittedly, he'd gotten carried away. He lost himself in the rush of it all, the adrenaline and pure, destructive desire pushed his self-control into unraveling just the slightest bit; honest attacks tore through space and time, hoping to maim and cripple you if they were to hit. And, honestly, the way you avoided his attempts to strike you down enthralled him as much as it enraged him–he was seconds away from unleashing his domain until a less-than-satisfying ripple of cursed energy tore across your thigh and put you down.

It was then, walking up to you, to his prey, that Sukuna remembered you weren't a sorcerer. Most would be able to stand and walk it off, maybe even heal with reverse technique, but you could only grasp at your weeping wound and grimace. Because you were not a sorcerer, you were a kitsune: a trickster, a creature full of mischief and void of cursed energy. 

Yokai. Not a human. Not a curse. Not like the rest of the boring souls wandering his earth. 

Sukuna pinned you the second you tried to make a break for it. Fangs and claws gnashed and tore into him while his hands strained to keep you down and rip those damn clothes free from your burning skin. 

Mating's never a pretty thing when it comes to nature. Humans like you made it something more.

Sukuna clasped a hand over your mouth and forced his weight onto you, ripping reedy yowls from your core as you twisted and turned, primal mind urging you to run, run, run, don't make this easy, make him prove his worth–

Rip.

Ribbons of what were once your robes fluttered to the ground, useless and unsalvageable. They were plain black, so unlike what you usually wore. You wouldn't miss them. 

“Make this as difficult as you want, pet,” Sukuna whispered as he loomed over you. His hand slid from your mouth to your throat when you stilled.  

“You know how this ends.” 

His pants were pulled down while another hand wiped slippery blood against your pliant entrance–and that was the only warning you got before he pushed into you. 

Where you should have screamed, you instead sighed. Your back arched off the ground like a work of art. Two hands gave up on holding you down in favour of gripping your waist and hips, pulling you closer to him, forcing you flush against his body. 

He noticed it then: a litany of old scars and discoloured marks shining against your skin. Marks left by those who did not deserve to taste such a delicacy. 

Unsightly.

Blood painted the grass. Cleaves and slashes ate away at those tainted scars, painting over the ugliness left hidden for too long–now, his marks would decorate you. Now, those hidden scars would mean something. They’d mean everything. 

Yet Sukuna's selfish maiming wasn't fitting the bill, and your antsy-ness was proof of it. You tried for the last time to pull from him, but his grip tightened around your throat. You gazed at him, then, eyes so wide and hungry, eager to fight or fuck–whichever came first. 

He braced over you and nearly winced as he dragged out of your suffocating heat. A sharp snap back inside loosened you, the glide of blood and slick aiding him. 

“I'll take you the way you need it,” he drawled as he built the pace quickly, already feeling his own obsession and excitement reverberating through his body, filling every fibre of muscle with electricity.

“Then,” he growled, leaning closer to your face. “I'll fuck you the way you want it.”

“More,” you sighed, digging your nails into the pillow you had your face buried in while the beast fucked you from behind. Sukuna groaned in compliance and lanced into your guts deeper, harder, faster than before–you were the only one that could handle the brutal way he let loose, and he was more than willing to indulge in that privilege. 

The hands all over you rose to the occasion, too; one had your tails fisted in his ruthless grasp, rudely holding you still and pulling you back against his hips; another rested on the curve of your ass, only moving to give a sharp slap or to knead your soft, perfect skin; the last two held your hips in a crushing force, his calloused fingers digging into your plush sides and sharp hip bones like you might disappear at any second. 

A sharp, sweet whine signaled the beginning of the end, as did the restless fidgeting and shifting in the king's grasp. Seeing you, a poised, powerful, mischievous being, come undone beneath him came to be one of Sukuna’s favourite sights, especially knowing it could only be because of him--only him. 

He leaned over you, his heavy chest pressing into your back as one hand released your waist in favour of fisting in your hair and tugging your head back and out of the futon you so desperately clung to. 

“Ah-ah,” he scolded breathily. “No hiding.” It was a familiar sentiment, one he had no problem reminding you of now and again. You had a horrible habit of trying to vanish when overwhelmed, after all. 

“Terrible beast,” you snapped back, scoffing indignantly when the deep bassy laugh of the man rolled through your body. “Horrible.” 

“You love it,” Sukuna growled back, grinning through every word. 

Something about it clearly struck a chord with you, judging by how fast you choked on your voice and came undone, legs trembling and body tightening around the too-big intrusion. The king groaned and bit at your neck, licking whatever blood beaded at the surface in between rushed, hushed words of praise for you and your efforts–most, if they heard the things he said, would call it out of character for the beast. Most didn't get to see beyond his raw power and crippling cruelty, however. 

Sukuna grunted and spilled inside you, pulling you back by your hair, hips and tail to ensure he forced every bit of his offerings deep into your core. Your body rocked and twitched against his, accepting all he had to offer you at the end of yet another coupling, before he let go of your locks and let you collapse face-first into the futon. 

He pulled out slowly, watching as every inch slipped from your abused hole before popping free and uncorking a dribble of whiteness from inside. He tutted and scooped it up with two fingers before stuffing it back in. 

“Oi, oi, are you even trying to keep it in?” He teased, smirking as you huffed. 

“You've exhausted me. I have no energy to attempt the impossible,” you lamented, nuzzling your nose further into the soft sheets smelling of cedar and fresh blooms–something so uniquely Sukuna. 

Your king sighed and gave your ass a firm few pats. “Guess I'll have to spoil you even more.” He settled onto his back and easily pulled you onto him, yanking you up to straddle his waist right where that second mouth laid open and eager to taste you. 

“This is uncouth,” you sighed. But you rocked back against the thick, heavy tongue pressing into your pliant heat, licking deep into you with a mind and hunger of its own. 

“Seems couth enough for you,” he commented, watching you ride his centre with rapt attention. “Little harlot's getting off on this, hey? Such a needy little brat.” 

His hands smoothed up and down your legs and sides as you shamelessly chased a second high. Your hands clasped over his as he took you into his hand and stroked you back to ample stiffness, the soreness of too many rounds of fucking making you far too sensitive to touch. 

“S-Sukuna-sama,” you stammered. “I can't–”

Sukuna's head tilted with a pleased smirk. “Ho? I thought you wanted to bear children? Are my offerings not enough for you?” 

You scrunched your face up into something of a prissy glare, but the shine clinging to your lashes and the shuddering of your body against his betrayed your crumbling demeanor. Of course, he was impressed with how his fox was fairing considering everything he put you through. 

He maneuvered you onto your back, grinning as you growled and weakly struggled against him. You looked perfect–stomach swollen, hair fanned out behind you, eyes teary but unable to tear away from the creature that’d tormented you for hours upon hours with no desire to give you a break. 

“Greedy god,” Sukuna lamented. One hand came to rest on your bruised neck again, fitting around so perfectly. “Nothing’s ever fucking good enough for you.” 

“You are.” 

That gave Sukuna pause. He stared down at you, all eyes looking over you with rapt attention as he tried to think. Tried to understand. Tried to parse those words and uncover what exactly you tried to convey. 

But it didn't click. 

“Tch. You're lucky I'm a generous god,” he scolded, releasing you from your torment in favour of collapsing down beside you for some much-needed rest. Not only did your beautiful body wear him out (not that he'd admit it), but your whimsical words wore his sanity thin. The worst part was you didn't even intend to damage him so. 

“I am truly honoured to merely be in your presence,” Your voice, light and dreamy as petals fluttering, laughed, and Sukuna's soul did something odd. 

He stared at the ceiling as you shuffled beside him, quickly returning to his side, donned in one of his haori and determined to make a comfortable nest of blankets and clothes around you both for the rest of the night–ah, morning? Huh. What an ordeal. 

You curled up next to him, shoving your back firmly against his side the way you often did when resting as a fox, and Sukuna huffed. 

“Turn to me,” he commanded, and you obeyed. 

He, too, turned to face you to envelope your lithe form with invincible arms and divine protection. Your soft purrs rolled through him, settling his wild spirit into a lazy tempo of an early morning stroll through a garden filled with one sort of white orchid: 

Brassavola nadosa. “Lady of the Night.” Your calling card. Your divine essence.

"Brassavola nodosa (Lady of the Night) is a medium-sized epiphytic or lithophytic orchid species boasting extremely fragrant flowers throughout the year. The blossoms, 4 in. across (10 cm), emit a citrus fragrance at night. Each flower features long, slender, pale green or creamy-white sepals and petals and a large, heart-shaped lip sometimes adorned with purple or dark red spotting." - gardenia.net

[hannie-dul-set]

EXTENSION: AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING.

p — LEE JENO x female! reader. g — gang leader! jeno, actress! reader, humor, tension tension tension, jeno realizes his type in women after getting kidnapped by his celebrity crush. w — swearing, kidnapping, crime in general. 1.4k words.

note — part 2 to an unlikely fanmeeting. to the anon who said that they envisioned eric from tbz as the ex boyfriend, this one's for u. enjoy.

a swoosh on the top. a loop at the bottom. two slopes intersecting before breaking of to scratch a little heart at the tail end. the ink is red. it’s always red.

“is this all?”

you remove the cardstock from the table, and with a sharp movement you snap your arm straight, presenting it to him. jeno looks at your signature— with the pretty loops and all, but he smacks his tongue in disappointment. there’s an impatient twitch on your brow as you eye him, waiting seated on the other side of your desk. jeno snatches the autographed card, “of course not," then tucks it into the chest pocket of his no longer damp shirt.

there’s a clench of your jaw, a tightening of your stare. your eyes stopped quivering even since starting the deal. a shame, because jeno had a lot of fun backing you into a corner.

still, he likes seeing you mad too— sharp gaze, knitted brows, lips on the verge of a sneer— almost foreign to the gentle and sweet expressions natural to your features. there’s no mix of melancholic blue like when you’re acting out a scene. this one’s impersonal, like you’ve got no shits to give. it’s red. all red.

jeno prefers red.

he leans a little closer. your annoyance shifts to suspicion. he rests an arm on your desk, shifting his weight to it. a single tap on the stack of blank cardstock. “i need a couple bit more,” he says, a quirk of the lips. “my boys like you a lot, too.”

a pause. then a sigh. you roll your eyes and shoo him off your personal space with a wave, to which he hums and obediently follows, and while the scratches of pen against paper fill your office space, jeno takes the once in a lifetime opportunity to snoop around a celebrity’s room.

the whole is flushed with dark mahogany, a singular lamp illuminating the area from the ceiling. there’s a case lined with countless trophies and plaques and certificates and awards. there’s a wall with a giant poster of your face on it. he flits his eyes over to you on the desk, blank faced as you sign each layer of cardstock one by one like a machine, then back to the bigger version of your face on the wall, smiley-eyed and innocent.

there’s a laugh trying to claw out of his throat. he spins his heels and returns to your desk.

“wait," he says, interrupting you from finishing the last card on the pile. your hand jerks to a stop. you look up at him, what now? on your expression. jeno is pretty sure he’s done a negative amount of good things to deserve seeing all these different kinds of faces from you. “can you put park jisung on that one?”

“what?”

“nice kid. a little clumsy. good with the bat,” jeno answers and you look like you could care less. “he cried three times watching sunwater. give him a little treat.”

you, once again, let out a exhale and continue writing with a rather aggressive scribble, ending the note with a pressure-pointed dot in the bottom right corner. “happy?” you deride.

he hums, “that’s not the attitude of someone who wants something from me,” and slides the stack of cards to his side of the desk, collecting it between his hands and slides them in between each other with a shuffle. “but anyhow, let’s get to talking.”

“finally.”

three loud taps on the table as he sets down the autographed cards. jeno takes the plush seat in front of your desk and drags it closer.

“you want us to abduct your ex boyfriend.” you affirm. “who is it? the eric sohn guy i keep seeing you on the news with?” a look of judgement overrides your expression. jeno simply shrugs. you can’t blame him for the fact that your face and name is everywhere.

“whatever,” you sigh. “anyway, yes, i want that bitch back here. he ran away to japan after i caught him fucking shin yona two days before our god damned anniversary.”

“damn. his loss.” 

“the fucker knows i can’t run after him because my schedule is packed this week. one of which is an ad shoot with the bitch yona, by the way. if she doesn’t pull out voluntarily, i’ll see to it that she does.”

you sure do swear quite a lot. “i think i’ve seen her before. was it firefly? i don’t know, that movie was crap.”

again, with the look of heavy judgement. makes him want to keep egging you on on purpose.

“i get it that you’re a fan, but this isn’t a god damned fanmeeting, you know.”

jeno looks at you, a ghost of a grin on his lips. “does your company know you act like this?” 

“of course not, how’d you think i stayed in the industry for so long if i don’t know how to act fake,” you roll your eyes. “back to the point. eric sohn. japan. can you bring him back here?”

“consider it done,” he says. his phone is out. you returned his shit earlier after wrapping things up in the basement. he then keys in a couple texts to a few contacts, eyes flickering between you and the screen. “and then what do you want? how badly do you wanna see him ruined? a few broken ribs and bruises? ‘til his face is unrecognizable? or—”

jeno closes his phone and drops it back into his pocket. he leans forward to get a better look at your face. 

his voice is low, quiet, and hushed, yet pulls down the air into the ground with a gravity heavier than that of the earth’s.

“want him dead?” 

silence permeates the room. he can’t read the thoughts running inside your pretty little head— save for the inkling that you don’t find his last suggestion the very least bit appealing.

“are you stupid? don’t you dare fucking touch him.”

your voice is aghast— offended. well, what did he expect. you might’ve acted the entire night like you had little to no regard to violence and the law— sending a bunch of men to kidnap him and all and waking up tied in a shady basement inside your own home, a few suspicious materials here and there, that’s got him thinking you’ve got graver intentions than a simple splash of water and a probably slap in the face.

“i only asked you to bring him to me and nothing more. don’t get ahead of yourself.”

but maybe there’s still a line that you you’re not willing to cross. 

“what’s the point if i don’t get to fuck him up myself?”

jeno feels a rattle in his bones.

he drills his eyes into you— your face, devoid of any jest or hint of hesitation. it’s all red and raw reprehension.

“what? the hell are you staring at?”

the words tumble out of his lips before he knows it.

“think you could let me watch?”

there’s a pause. it’s cold and quiet in your office. you’re looking at him like he just desecrated your parents graves. in jeno’s defense, you put the image in his head and his mouth doesn't have the safety on. when he doesn’t take it back, you sigh, place a set of fingers on your temple, and say, “get the job done first before making any extra requests.” 

well, that’s not a no at the very least.

“i’ve already made my payment so you better see to it that you accomplish your end of the deal.”

eyes flicker to the thin stack of autographed cards. he gets up from the chair with a rattle and takes it off the desk. “you sure about this, doll?” he asks, gaze flitting back to your face. “if word gets out, you’d be pretty much kissing your career goodbye, you know.” and after receiving your payment, he sets his arms down on the surface, leaning forward, grabbing taking out the red pen you’ve been using and scribbling his contact information on a spare sheet of paper.

he drops the pen with a clatter and takes a look at your expression.

“that’s fifteen years down the drain.”

you look like you’re tired of his shit.

“if word gets out that means you’re crap at your job,” you sneer, slapping your hand over the note as he finished writing. you slide it over to you with a screech. “didn’t you say you could handle this better than the incompetent fucks that brought you here?”

you’re looking up at him like you’re looking down, eyes snapped up, expectant and unforgiving.

jeno puts his hands up in a surrender, a sliver of a smile playing on his lips.

“you got it.”

AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[riinkun-art-stuff]

Howdy ho! I'm very excited to finally be able to share this illustration I worked on as part of this year's @bumblebybigbang for @tahnex's lovely and super fun fic (with no pain attached whatsoever), "Of Dragons and Panthers," which you can read here! As soon as I read the original notes on it this scene captured me so much I had to do something dramatic for it. It's been such a pleasure watching the whole collab come together, tysm for having me!

First time joining an event like this, and I'd love to again if the opportunity comes around hehe. Still a few postings to go on this one, the pieces before us this year have knocked it out of the park and I'm super excited to see the rest once they come around!

Made a few process cuts just for fun, which I left under the cut!

I did do a few sketches roughly before I started out, especially based on other parts of the chapter, but this particular composition was so fixed in my mind that I ended up just sticking with it. In retrospect, I would've loved to go back and do some more thorough exploration for it. Here are a few of the sketches I managed to fish back up:

I also was thinking of trying a few other doodles/another big piece, but ended up not really having the time between other obligations :')

And the sketch I finally settled on:

Inking was SUCH a fun process on this piece in particular. I'm a huge fan of how dragon!Yang's mane turned out, especially, and all the detailing on the head and around Blake's fur and such. Feel like I'm really satisfied w the particular way the line weight variations came out, and it's where the piece shines the most imo.

Panther!Blake, too. Oh gosh. I feel like it took me a lot of reworking to get her structure to a point where she felt very leopard-like, rather than any other type of big cat- especially around the head.

Colours were such a challenging part. There was a big feeling I had for that glow coming off dragon!Yang in the middle of the heavy rain- I love seeing that sort of effect in real life so that's something I'm really hoping to work to capture better as I practice. Trying to get dragon!Yang's slight iridescence in there and to balance out the lighting on panther!Blake's fur each took a long time, too- I'm only a pinch sad that a good chunk of it is covered by other lighting effects XD

Blake's rosettes were SO fun. Augguhugg.

In terms of backgrounds. HOO boy I was going through a strange patch in life while working on the background and final polish for this piece, which is why (at least I feel like) it looks kinda rushed. I have been practicing natural landscapes and doing some observational studies but still struggling to get those rock shapes quite right, which I think is a big make or break point of something like this. I did really enjoy toying around with inking on the foliage and foreground layers of the ground, though! And in the end, lighting and effects ended up masking a lot of the big weak spots :D

I think natural effects like smoke/steam, and rain, are big things that I got to practice more of in this piece, but also really would like to get better at in future. Esp since I feel like it's been a great opportunity to mess around with different colours and brushes that I use way less, which I'm always grateful for w painting. I think just layering the rain on its own ended up being about 10 odd layers?

I think the only other thing I would have loved to improve is to just help the piece feel more Bumbleby™ in the final look. I think I like the cool colours of the lighting for this particular outcome, but I also would have probably tried to have made things much clearer (ahem at the very least switch to yellow/purple) in the long run in terms of representation and resemblance. Ik that at least for me it is fairly easy to associate the two characters with dragons and panthers since I'm more familiar w the fandom lingo around these two, but esp for outsiders I feel like it's probably not great at conveying who they are, and why they are potentially in this situation.

I'd also love to try and find a shading style that still has a painterly quality but compliments the inking a bit better, rather than overpowering it.

I think that, on the whole, I am pretty satisfied with the piece and had a great time working with Tahnex on the whole collab! And I've also has a fun time reading his work and notes in return, and thank you so much for being so so patient with me even as my updates were slow n rocky at points :'D

That's about all I got, have a great day y'all! Still a few big bang postings to go, so very excited for those once they come around!

[lilacgaby]

day four

~2.2k

chapter select!

she woke up well-rested and smiley.

she decided to go ahead and prepare for the day as well, greeting mirko as she got a drink of water before going to shower.

the mission wasn't until two in the afternoon, which meant they'd have to be at best jeanist's agency at noon.

so she had three hours just to herself.

she soaked in the sun, effectively getting her meal for the day, as she scrolled mindlessly on her phone.

huge weights were off her shoulders with bakugo, but still

she'd promised she'd explain her feelings after the quirk wore off.

"you really shouldn't be worrying about that today,

not unless you really wanna die. and i kinda don't want my best partner to die so.. leave it for later."

rumi (mirko) said, while handing her tea.

she accepted, and sipped it slowly.

"yeah, you're right. for tomorrow then.

tomorrow."

for the rest of the time, she relaxed around, soaking in just enough sun so she wouldn't get a stomachache, but not too little so she wouldn't get a headache.

she watched some t.v, ate some snacks for fun, doom scrolled again,

all until rumi ordered her to start her ready.

it's not like they weren't late yesterday already, but she guessed real missions were a lot more important than debriefings.

the only sound in the huge room was music as rumi and [name] both prepared for the mission at hand.

[name] admired herself in the hallway mirror as she waited for rumi to hurry up.

as soon as mirko stepped out, [name] opened the door for them both, and shut it behind them.

as they walked, [name] texted mina, thinking she'd be too busy to respond.

                                                      flowered[name]

                                crazy stuff happened yesterday

                           accidental confession gone right

                    but i worked it out with bakugo so my

                                  life is no longer the worst :))

                                                                    delivered

now that that's out of the way-

oh mina texted back.

alienqueenslime

NO WAY

YOUR LYING

            

                                                     flowered[name]

                                                                          youre*

                                     and i'm telling the truth so

                                       do w that what you will

  i got a mission tho so i won't respond at all :D

                                                             

alienqueenslime

you can't just drop that and leave ong

omg**

the second u step in the dorms your explaining what's up [name]

read 10:47

she muted the suddenly lively "OPERATION [NAME] x BAKUGO" chat.

she had to focus, her life was on the line from now on.

after a familiar walk, with an even more fmailair annoyance at the time they lost because of mirko's rabid fans,

they arrived at the agency, [name]'s heart in her throat.

she'd be dealing with real murderers, people who viewed her as a disgrace to society. people who wouldn't care about killing her.

she had to be flawless. it's all she could afford.

⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ❁

the walk to the area was calm.

she couldn't stop her hands from trembling as she walked. the missions she'd been on before had involved murders, injuries, and blood splattered. it'd involved her hurting people to the brink of death, seeing the destruction she caused.

but in her mind this was another level of cruelty though. they were killing heroes just to prove something.

how many bodies would they let fall to prove their point? would she become on--

she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"calm down. you're strong, and the rest of us are too. you're not gonna get hurt. or fucking die or something, got it?"

"got it."

best jeanist and mirko continued to lead them through a building, they had to climb to the top.

now was the waiting game.

genie would pass through this alleyway at approximately three o-clock sharp. it was currently two-forty.

the twenty minutes of waiting was pure anxiety manifested.

katsuki kept annoyingly walking around in a circle, seemingly bored as hell.

mirko wasn't any better, the thumping of her foot revealing her anticipation.

best jeanist had been eyeing the same spot in the alleyway for the entire duration.

and [name] was fighting off the internal deja vu that came from being on the building.

"you scared?" katsuki suddenly asked.

"yes."

"oh yeah, almost forgot you're a truth teller now or some shit."

"right."

she continued to mess with her hands, now  shaking slightly. even more with his added presence.

"so, you think i'm too weak to save you? is that it?"

[name]'s face scrunched up in confusion as her truth left her mouth. "no. where did that come from?"

"do you think dumb and dumber behind me can't save you?"

"no. why are you asking me this?"

he turned to look her in the eyes, his arms moving dramatically to make his point.

"then wipe that look off your face and focus. we're all strong as hell, you're strong too, you being on this team is proof.

so, get the fuck out of your head already. it's pissing me off."

he turned and got back to his strolling around.

he's right. [name] thought.

he always is.

just as [name] was about to thank him, she suddenly sensed the presence of a group of people in the building under her.

nine.. no.. twelve vigilantes were waiting for genie too.

mirko sensed it too, and immediately signaled to bakugo and jeanist not to speak anymore.

it was time.

as genie did their routine inspection through the alley, calling out for any homeless or lost civilians  along the way, they suddenly became surrounded by.. it had to be at least twenty villains.

one of them suddenly spoke out to them.

"does it feel nice to be rich because of us?"

"what?" genie replied, genuinely confused.

"you're only rich off the suffering we cause to people. the suffering of humanity as a whole."

"what are you talking abo--"

"if people like you didn't exist, heroes who are only in it for the money, heroes who misuse their quirks to hurt people, villains or not, we wouldn't need heroes at all."

"maybe, but that's not what's happening. that's not the society we live in, so you all should stop playing hypotheticals." genie reasoned, trying to discreetly call for backup.

before one of them noticed and used a string quirk to snatch the device out their hands.

genie scoffed. "so what? you kill me and a couple heroes, go back and feel good about yourselves? why not kill a couple villains instead--"

"we have. and don't worry about your future, it was set in stone the day you began to study as a hero. playing hypotheticals might be what we're doing now but,

soon it could very much be a reality."

the twenty villains all assumed fighting stances, it seemed at least five of them were quirkless or had non-combative quirks, as nothing manifested directly from their bodies.

genie was suddenly bound by strings, and before they could manifest their three wishes, they were silenced by another villain's quirk.

mirko and jeanist motioned to both bakugo and [name] to get ready for battle. they were jumping in.

with mirko and bakugo as close-range fighters, and jeanist and [name] as support, they ran in to stop the fight from progressing.

"oh, so more heroes joined the party? don't you feel bad using literal children to fight your battles?"

"oh shut the hell up! you don't know what you're talking about, i'm here because i'm destined to be the best, number one. and you losers are nothing to me!" bakugo proclaimed, letting out a huge explosion with his gauntlets.

while it managed to knock out a couple of the villains, the talkative one seemed to have a deflective quirk.

"so, you're interested in heroism just for the money and fame too huh? guess we have to take you out before you become a future problem, kid."

the same explosion that was absorbed by the man's reflective ability was then released back,

with his aim on mirko.

she dodged just in time.

jeanist used the fibers in the clothes around them  and managed to restrain another handful of villains.

it seemed they had  only had a small number of actual combative quirks, and used their pure numbers as an intimidation tactic.

the six left standing were protected by some sort of force,

they thankfully had no bargaining power, as genie had escaped during bakugo's first attack.

the force didn't extend to the ground beneath them, so [name] let out a devastating attack that scattered the group evenly across the wide alleyway.

it seemed whoever made the force field couldn't keep it up unless they weren't at harm.

only two of them had now revealed their quirks, with the rest being unknown.

bakugo and jeanist blazed through their enemies, explosion after explosion was let out as they plowed through.

the energy-absorbent man became no issue as jeanist focused on him instead, giving him no power to bounce off of.

mirko and [name] however waited for the others to make a move first.

a villain finally did, with blades unsheathing from every part of his body he ran in to attack mirko.

if [name] didn't have to worry about the two suddenly charging her, she would've had an easy advantage over him.

"you heroes think you're so much better than we are, you're not! take this!" he threw a star shaped object at her, and it clung to her body.

she tried to rip it off fast, but she was suddenly winded by a punch,

crap. that other lady.

she was thrown into the ground, a painfully harsh exhale leaving her lips as she made contact with the floor.

"[name]!" katsuki yelled, attempting to rush over to her aid.

jeanist had finished restraining the other villains, the ones she and mirko were facing were the only ones left.

but a forcefield suddenly overcame her.

the realization set in as she saw the strange purple field set over her.

she'd have to beat the two herself.

katsuki, who skidded to a stop at the sight of the forcefield, felt at a loss.

he needed to help her, but he couldn't. he felt so helpless.

"fuck! [name] don't you dare die or ill fucking kill you!"

his words didn't reach her as the villains started to mock her.

"are you scared little girl? you picked a big fight."

"i'm scared as hell." i didn't want to say that.

"but ill try."

"try what?"

"try to win."

she was so terrified. terrified at the realization that these people didn't care if she died. they'd even prefer it that way. she was so preoccupied that she didn't notice mirko had taken down the blade-filled man, and was now attempting to break down the forcefield.

the villains mocking words and laughs were incoherent as she tried to form a plan and fast.

okay, if i take out the force field. i can get help.

the woman is the one who's upholding it, so i have to focus on her, no matter what.

the grass that had been under the laid concrete that was destroyed as she fell was now partly exposed. a small leaf from the overgrown side of the building right on top.

i can win.

she got up, and feigned attacks at the man with the--

wait, what was his quirk anyways?

as he dodged her attacks, he started counting down out loud.

"ten, nine, eight,"

she didn't know what would happen, but she didn't want to find out. his words revived the huge pit of despair that she had grown accustomed to. she frantically used the rocks around her to attack as fast as she could, while slowly growing a vine towards the force-fielder.

"seven, six, five"

the vine was almost reaching the lady's leg, just a little further. her arms were burning from the force she was exterting.

"four, three, two"

all the tenseness had finally left her body.

a smile adorned her face.

it made it.

"one!"

as the star shape object blew up on her body, the vine had rapidly grown to fully restrain the other villain.

while the damage on the exterior of her body was a wound that resulted only from the small explosion that occurred on her body, it sent a paralysis through her that sent her falling.

i won.

mirko tackled the star-wielding man, effectively knocking him out.

jeanist quickly restrained the remaining villains and called for a medic, as katsuki ran to her side.

she was awake, just in shock.

"hey, [name], you okay?" katsuki said, his voice unsure, and softer than usual. He shook her lightly."

"i'm so scared, but happy.

i won.

did you see?"

it felt like katsuki was the one hit with a truth quirk at the question.

"of course i did, you went insane [name]."

she let out a satisfied laugh, accompanied by an "ow!" afterwards after she had tried to reposition herself.

"okay, well, as my victory reward, i'm gonna go to sleep.

don't think i'm dead or anything."

she shut her eyes immediately after. what she didn't know was that her absolute happiness at being recognized by her crush, who she respected so much, made small pink roses blossom out of the crack in the floor.

all that she remembered before she drifted off to sleep, was the feeling of being picked up, and the distinct smell of caramel.

prev | next!

taglist (comment to be added!): @cc1306 @reads-stuff-quietly @dazqa

[ladytauria]

and lets do a "Tim got turned into a cat" au

your pick who picks him up and takes care of him

didn’t expect this to be the one i finished first but i’m not complaining. anyway you get a small snippet plus uh. more than 5 points xD

yknow for as much as i enjoy reading them i don’t think i’ve ever written OR plotted one out before!

hmmm… 🤔

very tempted to go damian for this one bc i love the whole. ‘see a different side of someone’ trope with animal transformation & when it comes to tim i find that trope yummiest w jason & dami lmao

hmmm, am thinking…

Tim gets turned either on patrol or while researching an object. I lean more toward the latter bc I like the idea of them finding him at his apartment or in his nest, and while that’s possible with the first option it’s easier/more likely with the second. And I like the idea of him having been stuck there for a short time lmao.

Could also be fun if maybe he was on research duty bc he had a broken/twisted/sprained arm or leg, so little cat Tim also has an injured limb… Teeny Tim cat with a li’l cast on…

Anyway! Damian and Dick are on patrol together when Babs asks them to check on Tim bc he hasn’t reported in over 24 hours and she just wants to make sure he’s good. Dami is aggravated to be interrupted but also he IS a little concerned bc Tim is generally prompt about his check-ins. And ofc when they get there there’s no sign of Tim, just a little black cat holding one of its paws kind of weird.

They look the place over, collect any evidence, etc. Damian makes some disparaging comments both to hide his own worry but ALSO to distract Dick from his. Def takes charge of the cat, bringing him back to the Cave/Manor to get him some food and medical attention. Maybe says something about Tim’s carelessness, which bothers Tim, making him growl/hiss/scratch at Damian.

Obviously how he acts with everyone around vs just with the cat is different; he’s less prickly when it’s just him & Timcat. The main inspo for me picking Damian and writing all of this was a couple of lines of dialogue that popped in my head when I read this. Something like—

“Just between you and me,” Damian says, his voice low and almost conspiratorial, “I find myself worried for Timothy as well.”

Tim’s ears prick slightly, his head raising ever so slightly off of his paw. His body has turned liquid under the touch of Damian’s hand; gentle yet firm as it runs over the length of his spine.

“For all of his faults, he would not have left you alone. Especially not if you were injured.” Damian’s hand stills, settling just under Tim’s shoulder blades. It’s a warm, comforting weight there—almost as comforting as the words themselves. A soft rumble starts in his torso.

As much as he tries not to care what Damian—what *anyone*—thinks, it… bothered Tim, that Damian believed he could be so callous. To know that it was an act is a relief.

Though it begs the question of *why*.

Damian scratches lightly behind one of Tim’s ears, and his eyes close without his meaning to. He tilts into it, sighing; the soft rumble in his ribs turning louder.

His questions will keep.

Not sure how they ultimately figure out that Tim is the cat, only that I do want Damian to be the one to figure it out. I also want Damian to end up doing a majority of sifting through Tim’s files—lol, maybe taking over for Bruce or Dick bc he didn’t like how they were doing it, and Tim being surprised at how well Damian knows him/his system. (Bc Damian has been studying him.)

Oh OH, also want Tim to decide to take advantage of being a cat to learn more about Damian since Damian talks to him a lot? So he learns more about how Damian feels about him but also more about Damian in general. But then maybe it gets awkward bc Damian maybe starts talking about Tim being pretty and how that just makes his feelings (jealousy, admiration, guilt) even MORE complicated.

Final thought: I kind of want this to be pre-Alfred the Cat? So Damian doesn’t have a cat at all, and Tim gets him one after bc “he knows Damian will take good care of it” and “he always wanted a cat growing up so maybe he could visit it sometimes…”. Cat could maybe be an apology for Tim letting the ruse go on, though I am thinking he DID try to signal early on, they just missed it? But anyway.

[ send me an au and i’ll tell you (at least) 5 things i would have happen in it ]

[ninyard]

inspired by the last anon: do you have any unhinged kevin hc's?

(cw; abuse, sh, briefly) (this isn't a headcanon at all really. more of an au i guess. just thoughts. just a little what if?)

The sight of blood makes Kevin feels sick, not necessarily because it reminds him of his injury - though that's a big factor - but because it reminds him of what he is capable of, and some of the things he did with Riko by his side. When Neil's father cut up that man in that room - Kevin was there. Riko was there, too, of course, but Kevin has been around death and violence for a very, very long time.

Teenage boys are young and stupid and impressionable, and maybe there was a point where Kevin fought back and matched the pain Riko inflicted on him, at least until Riko went through puberty and became stronger, more evil, more interested in truly hurting Kevin than just having "fun".

Think of them being twelve, and Riko has just drawn lines into his own legs because he likes how it feels to bleed, to be in pain, and him and Kevin are sat on the floor of their bedroom. Riko hands Kevin the knife, and tells him to do it. On myself? Kevin asks, but Riko guides the point to his own skin. Kevin tells him to stop, but when he flinches at the sight of Riko's blood, Riko grabs his hair and asks him if he can see how good it feels to make someone bleed.

But then think of them a little bit older, and Kevin is on his bed, and as Riko crawls up towards him, he kicks him hard in the chest, so hard that he ends up winded and sits at the end of the bed, cursing him in Japanese until he can breathe again. One time Riko puts his fingers into Kevin's mouth, and Kevin bites down hard enough to break skin. He spits in Riko's face as he recoils, and Riko slaps him hard enough to leave a mark. They're young enough at this point that Kevin has not yet become truly afraid or aware of what Riko is truly capable of. So maybe one time, he pins Riko down, his hands above his head held down by his wrists, his free hand wrapped around Riko's throat, and for just a moment, Kevin wonders what it would feel like to watch the life leave his eyes. Riko has done this to him enough times that Kevin wants to know what it feels like, to hurt someone like this, to wrap his hands about their throat and feel them desperately try to find a way free. Riko's face gets redder and redder, and he's struggling under his weight, struggling harder the longer it all goes on. Kevin regrets it when he lets go, and Riko is too quick with his punches. Kevin regrets it when Riko does the same thing to him, but until he loses enough oxygen that he passes out, until he's unconscious and Riko has bound his hands to carve his name into Kevin's skin.

What if there was a point where Kevin had the strength in him to fight Riko? What if, for a short time, they fought like they were equals? Before Riko's abuse "became" abuse, before Kevin realised that this is not normal. Before Kevin truly felt scared of what he could do.

Riko gave Kevin a lot of fear, the guts of a PTSD diagnosis. As the years went on, things got worse, and Kevin became unable to be an equal with Riko any longer. but in those formative years, he also gave him a lot of knowledge on how to hurt people, too. He knows what Riko got off on. He knows what moves and attacks hurt the most. He knows where to hold a knife that any movement will hurt the person it's held up to. He knows where to punch someone, where the bruise will linger for weeks, and the pain even longer.

Maybe there’s a dealer out there, somewhere, that Kevin thinks of every now and again, who has a permanent scar from the first time Riko asked Kevin to try and see how it feels to cut someone up. Maybe there’s someone out there that Kevin burnt with a lighter, or matches, or maybe there's a handful of scars on Jean's body that Kevin has apologised far too many times for. Do you think he had to hold Jean down when Riko waterboarded him, or when Riko drew swirls into his chest with a knife? Do you think Riko held him down then, too, and handed Kevin the knife, and watched as Kevin apologised with his eyes, and cut Jean up from his neck to his stomach?

Maybe in this universe Kevin hides that part of him because he's so ashamed of the stupid, awful, disgusting things he did as a teenager. Maybe Kevin feels so much guilt and shame about who he was at one point that there is nothing in the world that can possibly clear his conscience.

Maybe in this universe, Kevin wishes he had never stopped fighting back. Maybe he ponders what it would've been like to be in Riko's position.

[channoticedmeuwu]

💭 txt's choi line as . . . EVER AFTER HIGH CHARACTERS ! ☆ ♡ ༶⁠ 

p — CHOI LINE × FEM!READER | g — fluff, suggestive, eah!au + soobin has princess charming!reader | w — yeonjun's is suggestive, a lot of destiny&fate talk, eah terms used

a/n — I couldn't get choi line and them as eah descendents out of my mind so lo and behold, I caved. never forgiving them for cancelling this show + posting cuz it's my bday we gon party like it's my bday

♡ DON'T FORGET TO READ TAEKAI'S VERSION !!

YEONJUN, SON OF SLEEPING BEAUTY

rosy pink lips and a piercing gaze, choi yeonjun was the definition of the rose his mother was destined to represent. from his harsh grip on your waist to the soft, peppery kisses he'd leave on your neck when you'd sneak into his room after night curfew, choi yeonjun was casting a spell upon you. your heavy eyelids threatening to shut as he had his legs thrown over you while he spooned you, whispering “how pretty you are” and how lucky he is to have you. sharp yet maintained nails combing your scalp as he ran his fingers through your hair, the sensation sending pulses down to your toes.

choi yeonjun would fall asleep in a class, only to be woken up by a smack on his wrist and the threat of "DETENTION!". he'd have his fun with the gawking looks of everyone as he'd walk by, a pink mist of flowery drowsiness settling through the halls, making everyone's stomachs feeling like they'd just digested thorns.

but with you, oh, he was on his knees. puffy red lips and eyes bright n’ shiny when you'd kiss him, his lips leaving different shades of roses on your skin, like he was a rose himself— the color of his petals bleeding into the cracks of your skin. he'd find himself hiding between the alleyways behind the son of cinderella's shoe shop, your fingers tracing the wrinkles his smile would make near his eyes as he gazed at you like you were a happily ever after he was promised.

and he knew that even if his destiny didn't allow it, he'd prick his finger a thousand times only to be awoken by the drowning feeling of your lips on his own.

SOOBIN, SON OF SNOW WHITE

when choi soobin's mirror answered your name instead of his after he questioned, “who's the fairest of them all?” things got a bit messy. who even were you, making your way to ruin his happily ever after? rolling his eyes and shutting his locker, he'd come face to face with you, wearing a charming, a prince charming, smile and tilting your head at him. now, children of the prince (or now, king) charming weren't exactly his type, but god, who on earth gave you the right to charm him with that pearly, enchantingly cursed smile? even if you technically belonged in his destiny, you weren't supposed to rob off his title of being the fairest of them all, anyway.

but as he stared from across the classroom, he started to understand why tones of red and blue were such an eye-catching match. from the way you'd glow in the silvery moonlight with your blue, he'd watch from his window, gold in his candlelight, as you'd practice lifting the weight of a sword passed through generations of your family. he'd mumble to his pet animals, telling them how embarrassing it was for a son of snow white to fall for the princess charming before he could even choke on that fucking apple, before his roommate would tell him to shut up!

and when he finally buried his ego into the glass coffin he was destined to lie in, poisoned and cursed for eternity, he faced you—heart throbbing in his chest and silky black hair flowing in the wind as he took your hands. it was unsettling, how he went against his destiny at that moment just to find you and give you an untraditionally abrupt kiss on the lips, even if no one was poisoned.

but, his true love's kiss promised, it sure woke him from a slumber he didn't know he was already in, reality seeping into his eyes like a curse finally being lifted. and his chest heaved, breathless, staring at you like you were the apple of his eye—the true fairest of them all.

BEOMGYU, SON OF THE BEAUTY & THE BEAST

choi beomgyu was like streaks of gold sunlight peering onto a flowing river. with his sharp teeth and hair destined to flow perfectly in the wind, he would sprinkle his charm into any situation to win whatever he wanted. being the son of the beauty and the beast, he got the best of both worlds, athletically charming and annoyingly witty. and if you do say for yourself, unfairly attractive.

it was not irregular for choi beomgyu to intrude wherever and whenever he wanted to—a charming wink to a group of girls and they'd be squealing over him, or guys lifting him into the air when he'd score the winning goal for the bookball game, he had it all. and beomgyu wasn't really much to you, either.

except, when he'd sit with you in the enchanted forest, book in hand and pencil between his teeth, confused glances and nervous smiles as you tried to teach him the course for home evilnomics to impress a crush he had on a rebel. choi beomgyu didn't faze you— his smile cast no spell upon your senses; his beauty was meant to just be savoured by the eyes. his voice like honey didn't sooth your soul like it did to everyone else, and beomgyu was starting to realize that the more time he spent with you, the more he was drawn closer to you.

the genuinity in your smile set his cheeks rosy pink, the way your fingers would graze over his ever so slightly to show him how to cast a spell, the way you bit your lips and stared at him sheepishly when you didn't know the answer to a question he asked— you were finding ways to make him experience aspects of romance he's never witnessed first hand. and he'd find himself looking for you on the bleachers after scoring the winning goal for yet another bookball game. and he wouldn't shoot a wink to a group of girls who'd coo his name until he'd see you nearby. and he'd startle you from behind when you'd look for books in your locker, leaning nearby to shut the space between you two and watch your focussed eyes, a rosy tint in his line of vision.

you had the school's pride and joy wrapped around your finger, following you around like he were underneath a trance, head on your shoulder or arm around you as you roamed around town together. and you knew the rhythm of his heartbeat would change when you'd get especially close to him, finger on his chin as you'd smirk up at him. and you'd see the way his eyes would dart around your face, his light brown locks cast in front his eyes, glittering gold as his fingers would sneak up your blouse to feel the skin on your waist grow warmer at his touch.

txt — masterlist

main taglist (hmu to get added!) — @koishua @navyhyuck @allegxdly @daystiny  @kdyism  @neotism  @bluejaem  @radiorenjun  @sleepylixie @oifelixcmerebrou @mrkcore @imdamnconfused  @sicluvz @abhirami20 @tyongishs @emvrd @brxght-world

I’d appreciate if you’d give me a little feedback on the drabble if you read, whether it’s an ask, a reply or in the tags of the rb! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[puckpocketed]

i have no idea what's happening (i know nothing about ty or ceci or anyoneelse involved), but it's very clear to me that you and the girlies (gn) are the only ones Enjoying Hockey Correctly 💕

ough thabnk u!! though i think there's no right or wrong way to be a fan as long as everyones having a good time <3

as for what's going on. um.

1) marc-édouard vlasic (pickles) is sorta like our resident cody ceci in that he's seen as a bit of a disaster and catches a lot of friendly fire for it (he used to be really good... ouhh... the passage of time.... and honestly he wasn't even the worst dman we put on the ice this past season LOL) anyway we cherish him dearly for his bitchy auras and divorcee swag!!

2) and uh last season on account of all our guys getting disease of bonebroken we stapled William Eklund to Luke Kunin, i think just so we had two lines that wouldn't get completely smoked (they still got smoked). kunin is analytically Fucking Terrible and watching him play is Also Terrible BUT management love him bc he brings the ""intangibles"" and fights a lot and fun trivia for people who didnt watch sharks games: somehow he was always where one of our d-men should've been when we inevitably gave up a rush chance........hes defending women (goalies) in stem (net) . WE love him because sometimes hockey aint about silly things such as scoring goals... backchecking effectively... not losing your man in dzone coverage... sometimes its about being a personality hire and glue-guy <3 (also hes married to Sophia Shaver, hence: goonwag) because wekky was forced to play w him on a line we think of him like the training wheels for every prospect now....macklin celebrini are u ready for ur leg weights....

and its like HOW can we make this trade as funny as possible? we r puttign these guys in situations.. proposed outcomes so far: ceci-pickles shambling corpse senior dog pairing or make ceci our d-man equivalent of luke kunin and pair him with one of our youth.

[nillegible]

(Part 7 of Stay, the MY time travel fic. Well, Chronologically follows Part 3, But you can read them any which way! Read the others using: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7)

“I can take a hint, you know,” says Qin Su a few days later. “I’m not going to keep chasing you if you’re not interested, you didn’t have to tell my father to interfere.”

“I. I did not do such a thing, Qin-guniang,” says Meng Yao.

She glares at him as if to divine how truthful he was being. An interesting precaution but ultimately futile. She wouldn’t ever be able to see through him if he chose to deceive her. “I suppose I’ll believe you,” she says. “Meng-shidi should know that I had the most uncomfortable discussion with my father today. Since it’s your fault – regardless of what you told anyone – you owe me!”

“This Meng Yao has little to offer, but is yours to command regardless,” he says, sweetly.

“Then call me Su-shjie. If you’re part of my sect, you should act like it.”

“Alright, shijie,” says Meng Yao with a smile, hoping that she’ll accept it.

“Better,” she says approvingly. Then, lighter, “It is hard to stay angry, Meng-shidi’spractically weaponized those dimples.” It startles a genuine laugh out of him. She really was the loveliest person; proof that Jin Guangshan’s seed was not all rotten.

“This Meng Yao will find Su-shijie to continue our conversation later? I’m to help demonstrate muffling talismans for the junior disciples today.”

“Of course, go on! I’ll see you later!” The last is a promise, she obviously intends to see it through.

It hurts a little less when he nods and agrees, before hurrying to the class he was meant to help with. They could be friends, this time.

This time, Meng Yao wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

(This time, he wouldn’t hurt her.)

---

If everyone else is also strangely kind to him for a few weeks after, then Meng Yao doesn’t really notice, nor make the connection, until he’s following Su-shijie and two of her friends on a trip to the market. He’s being used mostly to hold packages; the girls had picked up quite a lot of novels; more than fit into the few qiankun bags they had brought with them.

“Apologies to Meng-shidi, we didn’t think we’d be stopping here,” they’d said, or something along those lines, at four different places already.

Aside from the packages, he was only occasionally consulted over the appearance or worth of some small trinkets – one of the youngest disciples had recently received a sword, and they wished to give her gifts for the occasion – but as Meng Yao’s being treated to snacks as an apology for every hour the trip extends, he barely minds. He is free for the day and it’s almost fun.

Li Feilong finds a green ribbon, almost exactly of a shade to match with official Nie robes. Huaisang would like that, he thinks, just as she says, “Oh, doesn’t this look lovely?” holding it out. She wraps it around her wrist to observe the colour.

“Feilong-shimei’s partiality is showing again,” ribs Qin Su, eyeing the other wares, and picking a midnight-blue one for herself.

“Shijie,” Li Feilong huffs, before releasing the ribbon, saying under her breath, “But he is handsome, I don’t know how he’s only ranked seventh on that blasted list.”

“We’ve all heard it before, Feilong-shijie,” laughs Lin Biao. “Well, I suppose Meng-shidi hasn’t.”

“Meng-shidi!” says, Li Feilong suddenly, whirling towards him. “You used to be Sect Leader Nie’s deputy, were you not? Come, tell me if this colour truly matches his robes,” she says, and Meng Yao steps closer even though he’s sure it is close enough.

“It would be hard to tell them apart,” he says. “Though such a light silk would be more Nie-gongzi’s style than Nie-zongzhu’s. He doesn’t know if it’s because Nie Mingjue’s cultivation was so advanced that he could not tell the weight of his robes, but his silks were heavy.

“That doesn’t matter, thanks, shidi! Auntie, may I have three lengths of this, please?”

“Three lengths, Shimei?”

“Hush, Shijie. I’ll wear it to the hunt on Phoenix mountain, next season! I can edge my cuffs with it, to match.”

The three women pick out other ribbons as well, a pretty pale periwinkle, a few yellows and roses, and some Qin-sect blues. Meng Yao finds his eyes being drawn to the green ribbon again and again. He can’t really believe that he thought that, so what if Huaisang would like it? There was no shortage of green silk in Qinghe, and Meng Yao is no longer... no longer beholden to him.

Some habits were clearly hard to break, that is all, and ‘Huaisang would like that,’ is a decade long habit, that led to him buying multiple pretty things for him. Fans yes, for birthdays, but he’d spoiled him with other things, too.

Meng Yao had always treated him like a child, and somehow missed what was right in front of his face.

It doesn’t stop Meng Yao from buying a length of it before they leave, as well as some colours of thread to go with it. He slips it all into his sleeve, and pretends not to notice the curious looks that he gets form his three companions.

“Shall we return then?” he asks.

“Just a few boxes of tanghulu for mother, and then we can go,” Qin Su decides, and they nod, trailing after her.

On the way back, Qin Su asks, voice mild enough that he’s instantly on guard, “Will Yao-shidi be wearing a green ribbon to the hunt as well?”

Wait, what? When on earth had he given her that impression?

“This shidi will of course be in Sect colours,” he says, while he frantically tries to pick out how this misunderstanding had come about. “The ribbon is for a gift.”

“Oh, of course,” says Qin Su.

“At least agree with me that Nie-zongzhu should be ranked higher, Meng-shidi,” says Li Feilong, from behind them. Meng Yao had assumed they were not listening, and when he quickly glances behind them, Lin Biao is elbowing her, trying to shut her up.

Oh?

Too startled by the byplay and its potential implications, he demurs politely, “I have no opinion on the matter, Feilong-shijie.” Then he smirks, “But I do know why the ranking is in the order that it is!”

Lin Biao gasps, and bounds closer. “You know who makes the rankings?” Conversation neatly diverted, Meng Yao spends the rest of the walk back coyly refusing to reveal his source – not that a drunk Huaisang in the future, confessing to ranking Jin Zixuan above Wei Wuxian just to see Wei Wuxian’s face, and putting his brother seventh because he had to be somewhere is much of a source – and the three ladies graciously allow for the change in topic.

If he returns to his room and skips dinner that night, well, he had been treated to a lot of snacks that afternoon. And it gives him time to try to figure out how exactly he’d convinced Sect Leader Qin that he was a cutsleeve. (He pretends that this is pressing enough that he doesn’t need to think about the green ribbon he’d bought so impulsively, and shoves it beneath his simple sewing kit.)

---

Meng Yao very very cautiously observes his disciple-siblings over the course of the next few weeks, but except for two offhand comments – quickly shushed – no one comments on his supposed inclination for cutting his sleeve. He’s a little bemused but after some thought and delicate probing, he works out the evidence for their “deduction”. In addition to his unexpected rejection of Qin Su, there was the matter of his apparent fear of Jin Guangshan; who was well known for his intolerance for such “deviancy” within his sect.

It's so absurdly sensible a conclusion to draw from the limited evidence available that Meng Yao has no defence to offer. Surely it made more sense than Meng Yao having returned from the future.

And most importantly: no one cared. They were trying to be kind.

If he didn't know better he would think he had developed a second golden core; so warm is the feeling that fills him up and settles in.

[jays-supersonic-dynamo]

bunch of mr e echo doodles. mr eechos if you would

[intertexts]

WRITER ASK GAME B4 I GO SHOWER!!!! how about 28 and 29 :3 talk abt ur fics boy!!!!!!

YAYYY HIIII JAY myfriend jason ^_^

Favorite work you wrote this year?

GOD it has 2 be turmoil and wonder i think. i love you ghostkicks i love you weird complicated intimacy i love you blood and internal organs... i feel like i might have said this b4 but the inception of that fic was like. me staring at the ceiling for an hour trying to figure out what parts i do & don't like of reading smut (aroace*) & why im fine with it or enjoy it occasionally but for the most part am bored and annoyed w/ it because i have the chronic need to be able to say exactly why i like or dislike anything ever. came out going Oh its because what i resonate with is physical and emotional intimacy and an emphasis on the weight and trust of vulnerability & the like. intersection of fear + desire + trust. cool! how do i cherrypick those elements and transplant them into a nonsexual context. which was so easy actually & like ridiculously self-indulgent & also its just really really fun to write poking around in someones guts. i love when organs <3 runner up is i want to be cold which i love a lot & had a lot of feelings abt writing. yeagh.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

the crack echoes through the room when he backhands him, bringing with it a bloom of pain spreading across his own face as his knuckles contact failsafe's skin. it sounds louder than it hurts, still sends him lurching back against the restraints. he took his mom's rings off days ago for the job: if he was wearing them, they'd have ripped the skin open already, something he knows from experience. left him with even more scars. it doesn't feel right to count as a blessing. he can picture the gouges they'd leave, the way the hot blood would drip down his face.

“you're never going to use your fingers, right? it's the palm and the knuckles and the heel. you throw a punch and you're leading with your fingers, you're wearing jewelry?” she wiggles his fingers back and forth, hands bigger and stronger than his. he does feel kind of breakable, compared to her. “you’re gonna break your hands. like this:” and she shows him how to make a fist right, thumb on the outside, wrist braced. 

“okay, why do you have rings, then? aren't you gonna break your knuckles?”

she grins in approval and winks, never mad at him for asking questions or talking back. “i’m your mom, it's different.”

the sound of the hit echoes into silence, and virion realizes he's been standing still, staring.

failsafe snarls. “that's all you've fucking got, traitor?”

VIRION MOMENT!!!!!!!!! ^_^ i still wanna write a follow up for this one it was a lot of fun. had a real hard time picking out anything specific bcos i don't think like. individual lines r something i'm particularly good at. but. i like this section a lot it makes me go :(

[mooreaux]

I know it was months but, but the "Weirdly Specific Artist Ask Game", if you're still interested in answering; 1) Art programs you have but don't use 2) Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even) 5) Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself and 8) What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

O hello there! I still love this game so I will defo still answer 👀

1. Photoshop and Clip Studio.

I tried. I bought a whole new desktop PC to learn those damn programs *weeps* I still haven't given up hope. But in comparison to how light weight and intuitive procreate on the iPad is, those programs really quickly overwhelm and confuse my poor brain.

2. Depends on the day honestly. If I get to use the symmetry tool then forward no contest. But I would say facing left if I had to choose.

5. I actually post a fair amount of my stuff. I used to have a real issue finishing work or sketching w out fully rendering so I would put stuff out either slow or messier than I would have liked to share. But these days I'm actually having a lot of fun with lines and flats and it's made drawing quicker and easier if I'm just trying to get an idea down (huevember). I'm always hungry for that sweet sweet validation haha.

It's actually deciding what to draw that factors a little more for this question. I have a bad habit where I get self conscious of the subject matter I draw not appealing to my audience. If I think I can't post it and have it do well I tend not to be able to get inspired to draw it. Which is a real shame! And something I would like to work on changing!

8. Oh God how could I even narrow it down. I have the attention span of a goldfish. Looks at my fandom graveyard guiltily.

I thought of doing tarot cards for my OCS once. Like, the whole deck cuz I have so many. Yeah. No. That didn't happen.

Thank you so much for these questions! I always love hearing from y'all 😊💕

[collaredrose]

Oh man, this was supposed to just be a sketch (>w< ; ) Anyways, here's a really over-rendered May that i had, just a fucking blast with. I think I've got some ideas for drawing going forward >:3c I also messed around with my lines a lot: different brush, using line weight, trying to make longer and fewer strokes in my sketches and linework. I feel like it helps the drawing feel less like plastic to me.

Well, enjoy! And remember: The first rule of highlighting is to be yourself and have fun :3

[stormblessed95]

https://twitter.com/army__tww/status/1672225679252013057?s=46&t=xZfMNrysfzaHDchIEDZ2ZQ

What do you think happened that day bc it obviously means a lot to them since they posted sm about it. Like jk making it his first post then his profile picture and then posting it twice on his story and adding the dates to it as well (this was after jm got dragged into those dating rumours w the girl from lovelyz seemed like he was tryna prove a point and be like yea jm was w me not her) and also turned it into a highlight. And jimin who posted the pic of him alone and then of him and jk looking at each other and one of the water too and in late 2022 it was his wallpaper so I think smth bug happened then or they just really like those pics from that day.

Honestly, I think they probably just had a really fun time while they were there. I think the photos are beautiful and well taken too so they probably just really like them too. Lol I mean when you go on vacation to the beach and if you get some really good shots, you'd probably post them and enjoy them alot too? 🤷🏻‍♀️😂 the simplest explanation is the easiest one for me. Idk about any rumor denying or claiming of jimin happening. Those were just stupid tkkr rumors that held zero weight. Like honestly just made up stuff. So I lowkey doubt they even knew about any Jimin girlfriend rumors 🤷🏻‍♀️ such a good and sweet and lovely domestic looking date photo too. Lol I love the maknae line beach photo series 😍