#dolores is a badger

[fandomnerd9602]

Laura stabs Y/N, the spawn of Deadpool, in the gut with her claws…

Y/N: penetration? Kinky!

Laura: eres un dolor en mi trasero!

Y/N: I know but just admit you love me. Cuz i love you, my little honey badger

Laura: what?

Y/N: it’s okay, sweetie, it’ll be our little secret

Y/N bops Laura playfully on the nose, earning a slight blush from X-23…

[upontherisers]

shush for mahalia & bucky pretty please 😁😁😁

a/n: no proofreading, we die like men, etc., etc. i've answered the prompt on a technicality. welcome back to lake harding, everyone. [ shush ] for a kiss to silence the other party

Jack calls it at 1:30 am, standing with an exhale and taking in the counselors spread along the waterfront.

“Already?” Ev asks from where he’s slouched in a fraying camping chair.

Jack shrugs. “I’m tired.”

“Hazel’s tired,” Bucky says. “You just want to walk her back.”

Hazel—in the middle of draining the rest of her beer as she walks over from the girls’ fire—pauses, looking between Jack and the rest of the group around the fire. Her arm lowers hesitantly and she huffs a flustered laugh before breaking into a smile. “I’m good by myself. This is your last one, I don’t wanna—”

“No, no,” Jack says as he steps out of the ring of logs. “Let’s head back.”

Bucky has to duck under the hand Jack flings out to smack him with and he grabs around at the sand underfoot until he finds a pebble and hurls it only for Jack to sidestep without having to turn around as he sets his jacket around Hazel’s shoulders.

They watch the pair go, their tall frames moving in and out of the firelight from the flames up the beach. Bucky waits for something, for Jack to wrap his arm around her shoulders, for her to reach for his hand, but they disappear past the Big House without incident and he shakes his head with a chuckle. Always professional, those two, very resilient to his badgering. They’ll break this year, he’s sure of it, with it being Jack’s last and all.

Then, it’s quiet. Waves run gently to shore and rock the docks to and forth, the creaking wood blending with the crickets and owls in the trees up the hill. The breeze is gentle and chilling and gives him every reason to stay by the crackling fire. Even the moon’s out tonight, lighting the lake all the way to Outpost Island and Camp Taylor at the other end, and into the mountains beyond. It’s peaceful—not just a night in at his apartment peaceful, but peaceful peaceful—the kind of peaceful they make movies about, the kind of peaceful that settles right to his bones and scratches the itch he’s had since he drove up from the city this morning. The kind of peace he can be alone in, even when he’s surrounded by friends.

The kind of peace that blends with the beer and the bud and the moon and nearly sends him to bed right where he’s sitting until he hears a laugh from the next fire over that cuts through the zen he’d reached in the last few minutes.

“Jesus, she’s loud,” he mutters, laying out on his log now that he has the space. There are a lot of stars when he looks up.

Buck snorts. “You’re loud.”

“I’m not that loud.”

“You are,” says Benny. Bucky flops out a leg to kick at him and misses. 

Mahalia laughs again from the girls’ fire and he turns his head toward the sound. She’s sharing a log with Willie and they’re cackling, falling over each other and wiping their eyes as Dolores tells a story that has her gesturing wildly with her hands. Their resident comedian saves her best work for nights like these and while Bucky would usually try to push his way over to be in on the joke, he’s caught by Mahalia in the firelight—the blush of her lips, the flame-washed dark gold of her skin, the smooth lines of her neck, and the delicate chain shimmering at the hollow of her throat. He’s cold suddenly, and sits up to grab his jacket.

Curt’s hand raises across the circle. “Last call. There’s, like, two hits left.” The joint in his fingers leaks thin wisps of smoke above the flames.

“Dibs!” Bucky and Mahalia say at the same time. 

Curt holds it out to Mahalia, who’s rising from her seat. Bucky glares at his friend. “That’s my weed.”

“I wouldn’t hear the end of it,” the younger counselor says with a shrug, his dimple popping out of his grimace. 

Bucky’s on his feet and bounding over before Mahalia’s halfway there, and she squawks as he plucks the joint from Curt and takes a hit. 

He really makes a show of it, taking a long drag and holding the smoke for longer than necessary before exhaling with a labored sigh pointed at the stars. When he looks down again, Mahalia is a few feet from him, arms crossed over her sweater, mouth open as she slides her tongue over her teeth in fury. She’s hot when she’s angry—round brown eyes burning in the flames of his fire, jaw tight and sharp—but she’d kick him in the nuts if he said it out loud.

Curt speaks up behind him. “C’mon, Bucky. It’s the last night.”

“I don’t know,” he replies, rolling the joint in his fingers. “Sounds like she’s got a problem if she needs it this badly.”

Mahalia’s stomping toward him in an instant. “Chick’s not here to stop me from beating your ass—”

“Okay, okay,” he says, “fine.”

She comes to a stop in front of him as her next blustery threat fizzles out. He debates going for it and dashing before her short legs can get traction in the sand, but as he looks down at her—her eyes pools of dark, still water now that he’s blocking the light—he’s cold again, and he doesn’t let himself look lower than her expectant face to the scars that now dot her left knee and crawl up her thigh. You owe her.

But, he can still do it with his usual… flare.

It’s slower than the first time as he takes another hit and her lips part, enraged. He takes advantage of the moment to press his mouth to hers and exhale. Her chest presses against his as she breathes him in and he ignores the twitch in his pants at the small whimper in her throat that’s only audible to him. You’ve done this before, he thinks. It’s just Mahalia. 

But her name sounds different in his head than it has during all the previous summers, and as she pulls away, exhaling with a blissful, lazy smile, he wants to suck the smoke from her mouth. Not because it’s his weed, but because it’s her.

A burst of laughter from a group of Lower Camp counselors further down the beach breaks him out of his thoughts and he steps away from her with a nod. It’s just Mahalia. “We good?”

She blows the last of the smoke in his face and chuckles cooly. “For tonight.”

Tonight won’t last much longer—the long drive is catching up to him, so are the High Noons, and they have an early start tomorrow when Chick and Red get in—but as Mahalia walks back over to her fire, already joking with Vera about something that makes her voice carry back to him on the breeze, he decides he’ll take it. Tonight’ll do just fine.

[playedbetter]

Winter Holiday Cheat Sheet 2023

My muses celebrate varying things throughout the winter season, as such here's a reference for who celebrates what. I highly recommend crtl+f.

For those from worlds without earth holidays I'll list what they celebrate in their verse closest to modern day earth.

Christmas

Jean-Paul Valley, Azrael, Jason Todd, Cleo Cazo, Maxwell Lord, Guy Gardner, Beatriz Da Costa, Owen Mercer, Grant Wilson, Lori Zechlin, Nick Necro, Bunny, Pierre Cobblepot, The Joker, Ragdoll, Lex Luthor, Hoxton, Vlad Kozak, Dallas, Kento, Joseph Baldwin, Dolly Harris, Pearl, Rust, Shade, Duke, Veron Locke, Jacket/Axel, Richard/Jacket, John Wick, Jimmy, Stephen Simmons, Cole, Cullen Rutherford, Zevran, Garrett Hawke, Zinna Lavellan, Sebastain Vael, Fjord, Caleb Widogast, Hajime Hinata, Izuru Kamakura, Mikan Tsumiki, Peko Pekoyama, Korekiyo Shinguji, Nagito Komaeda, Toko Fukawa, Syo, Juzo Sakakura, Kotoko Utsugi, Tsumugi Shriogane, Rantaro Amami, Mukuro Ikusaba, Kazuichi Soda, Yumeto Ariyoshi, Isami Kanda, Inuko Hachiya, Briar, Seraphine, Vi, Dr. Mundo, Mel Medarda, Sarah Fortune, Hana Song, Gabriel Reyes, Amélie LaCroix, Hanzo, Elizabeth Ashe, Quentin Smith, Caleb Quinn, Susie Lavoie, Lucy Westenra, Luis Serra Navarro, Billy Loomis, Norah Jakobs, Clara, Artemy Brukah, Peter Stamatin, Mark Immortal, Quentin Quire, Harrier Du Bois, Kim Kitsuragi, Goldilocks, Ophelia, The Narrator, Rosa Blackwell, Lauren Blackwell, Patricia Blackwell, Joey Mallone, Dolores Sinclair.

Hanukkah

Zatanna Zatara, Zachary Zatara, Theodore Kord, Eddie Bloomberg, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Badger, Anders, Justice, Viktor.

Diwali

Dorian Pavus, Beauregard Lionett, Mollymauk Tealeaf.

Kwanzaa

Ekko.

Yule

Lori Zechlin, Alune, Aphelios, Mikaela Reid.

Lunar New Year

Jason Todd, Bunny, Alune, Aphelios, Hana Song, Mollymauk Tealeaf, Korekiyo Shinguji, Lukai Hwei, Shieda Kayn, Rhaast, Kim Kitsuragi.

None

Komand'r, The Adjudicator, Naafiri, Micheal Myers, Anna, Caliborn, Ayumi Maeda.

[dvarapala]

It's probably a good thing that Five doesn't have the additional power of telepathy. But then again, he doesn't need to be a mind-reader to realize what just happened, does he?

One of the corners of Udyati's mouth lifts briefly, pleased with the result.

Got'cha.

All she wanted was for him to talk to her and when the regular way didn't work, she went to plan two: poking and prodding. Kalari is about identifying just where you need to strike, after all. And strike she did.

In her own way.

By badgering him until he talked.

Udyati may not be book-smart, but she is people-smart. And most people forget that.

Her eyes soften, however, when Five confesses that he cares about Dolores - of course he does, out of the two of them, his heart bleeds so much more - and that he can't be around her, otherwise he'll fall in love.

Of course he would. Udyati's seen Dolores. Has spent time with Dolores. She's an absolute delight and she would fit in so, so much. In this universe. With him. With all of them. She can already see it in her mind's eye. And she figures that Five can see it too.

"Thank you for telling me, Nana. That must've been... a lot. If I upset you or opened old wounds of any kind, I sincerely apologize and I want you to know that I didn't mean to. I just wanted you to talk to me. And you weren't. And we don't not talk. And we can't help Nani - Dolores - unless we keep each other in the loop."

She doesn't say anything anymore about Five potentially not caring. Because he cares most of all, duh.

There is an I love you in there too somewhere, if Five feels like reading between the lines, and it goes unsaid. Though, hopefully, not unnoticed. Because he's family, now, too.

"I'm not saying you've gotta be glued to her hip in order to help. You can be the guy in the chair for once. I don't know. What I do know is that we're gonna need your expertise to pull this off. Because, as I've said before, you're the smartest person I know. You know stuff. A lot of stuff. So, how do you want to do this?"

@dvarapala / continued from here

"Can't you just drop it?!" Somewhere in the very back of his brain, it occurs to him that maybe he said it a little bit louder than he strictly needed to, and certainly a whole lot louder than he's ever said anything to her before — he's always tried his best to protect Udyati from him, to smooth and soften his sharp edges for her, to give her that one microscopic piece of his personality he can call good, but now he's all teeth and claws and burning, white-hot, knife-sharp rage, because she just won't stop pushing him. "Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, it's not as simple as oh, she's not my version of Dolores, so I don't give a shit about her? Of fucking course I give a shit about her! She's my wife! You think I care what universe she comes from?!"

Five doesn't remember exactly when he pushed back his chair and got to his feet, or when his hands clenched themselves up into white-knuckled fists, but he can feel the smooth hardwood floor under the soles of his shoes, and he can feel his own blunt nails digging into the soft skin of his palms, and he has to pull in a very deep, slow breath, and tell himself to calm the fuck down, before he can uncurl his fingers.

"Look," he says, finally, and far quieter than he expects from himself right now, all the fury draining from him in an instant, "it's not a matter of whether I owe her anything or not. And it's not a matter of whether I want to help her or not. It's that—it's that I—I know she's not my Dolores. I know that. But she's—she's exactly like her. All the things she says, and all the things she does… her eyes, and her smile, and the way she walks, and that weird sense of humor she has, and the way she rolls her Rs—it's all exactly like the Dolores I knew, down to the smallest detail, and I—I can't—"

Five swallows hard, trying his best to pretend he can't feel the red-hot flush in his cheeks, probably glaringly obvious to Udyati thanks to the sunlight pouring in through the window on the other side of the room. It's a testament to how much he trusts her that he hasn't ducked his head down or turned away to hide his face from her yet. It's a testament to how much he trusts her that he hasn't just teleported away into another room and neatly sidestepped this whole godawful conversation, actually.

"I can't be around her." It comes out just a little too much like a confession, and maybe that's what it is. "I have to stay away from her. Or I'll fall in love with her. And I can't do that."

[littlerit]

Dolores as Five's Daemon

[ID a charcoal portrait of a European badger looking directly out of the screen]

First off... This was not meant to be a solo piece - I'm working on a more detailed drawing with Five and Dolores together in the apocalypse, but RL has kicked my ass a bit this month so it's not finished in time, so that'll be coming...soon.

Secondly... When I saw Daemon on the @tuaaugust prompt sheet I knew I had to do daemon Dolores the badger. I headcanon this so hard. Cute and sweet looking, completely feral if needs be, and will eat anything they can scavenge... It seems perfect to me!

[runillholdhimoff]

here have a headcanon:

picture 1st year zacharias smith, from a family of gyffindors, entering hogwarts for the first time. he’s so excited, so ready to prove his bravery. the hat calls out hufflepuff, and his family laughs at him. no congratulations, no gifts. he is mocked, they call him weak. and then he meets 4th year cedric diggory. popular, athletic, and proud to be a hufflepuff. and zacharias is in awe. he’s blown away by the confidence and the kindness that is cedric, and for the first time since his sorting, he’s excited. cedric teaches him, mentors him, finally gets him on the quidditch team when zacharias was convinced he was too clumsy to play. cedric treats zacharias with the kindness that zach never received before, and he finally feels needed, valued, seen. jump to zacharias’s fourth year, see him cheer louder than anyone, clap cedric on the back when his name flies out of the goblet of fire. he cheers him on through every task, every victory, because that’s what cedric would do for him. and then the maze, and cedric is gone, he’s really and truly gone, and zacharias can’t breathe, because his best friend, his role model, the one who saw him when no one else did is dead and no one will let him grieve. so a year passed, and zacharias hears that harry potter, the boy who survived the grace yard, is starting a rebellion, so he joins, because it’s what cedric would have done. and yes: he’s rude to harry, doesn’t trust him, because goddamnit, zacharias’s best friend, his brother, is gone, and no one will fucking tell zach what happened. and he’s so angry, because is it so wrong for zach to resent harry, because why is it that he survived and cedric did not? zacharias scoffs at the boy who lived, because he knows far too many who did not.

[in-tua-deep]

Hufflepuff Five! He has traits that would help him fit in any of the houses, but underneath, everything he does is motivated by his love for his siblings so Hufflepuff would be the best fit. Also, just the idea of the house full of sweethearts dealing with Five the undercover sweetheart is funny and adorable. In this au would Delores be a fellow Hufflepuff that Five bonds with or would she be a ghost or a painting?

Hufflepuff Five is a valid child, bless. Me? Purposefully sorting the Hargreeves so that there’s two to every house except Five who is alone? It’s probably about as likely as you think actually but in hindsight it’s a cool move

Five isn’t sure what to make of Hufflepuff at first, admittedly. Someone told Five that Hufflepuff is for “everyone else” and is a catch all house for rejects from the others, so he’s not exactly thrilled about it. Especially because he’d rather be in a house with his siblings 

(Ravenclaw definitely because he loves Ben and Vanya best, but he’d grudgingly accept Slytherin - maybe not Gryffindor though because quite frankly he doesn’t want to get between Luther and Diego butting heads ugh)

Five is sorted last of the siblings because his name is listed as ‘5 Hargreeves’ and they weren’t sure whether they should put numbers before or after letters and they ended up putting it after so Five got sorted last. 

But his new housemates are surprisingly fierce. They tell him that they’re not the catch all house, and even if they were all that means is that one of their ideals is acceptance and no one gets left behind. 

(Five refused to leave any of his siblings behind, not even Luther who he thinks is an idiot every day ending in a y. So he understand that ideal on a personal level.)

They tell him that Hufflepuff means loyalty and hard work. It means forming ranks and protecting one another, of standing firm and tall and strong. Bending, but never breaking. Hufflepuffs are unassuming, everyone discounts them, but it was a Hufflepuff who was chosen to represent the entire school during the triwizard tournaments.

(They whisper Cedric’s name with reverence, with mourning, but also with pride. He wasn’t the Chosen One, he was just an ordinary boy and he was still chosen and performed admirably, with noble intentions and kindness. He was a Hufflepuff.)

So the older years look at the boy with a number for a name who is wary of everyone and protective of his siblings and they soften. Strangely enough, the child abuse cases usually end up in Slytherin with far more frequency that then other houses (there is something to be said, for cunning and resourcefulness sitting in the hearts of eleven-year-olds) but Hufflepuff has had their share.

So when they catch Five sneaking out in the middle of the night, the prefects show him the secret passageways and the quickest routes to the other common rooms and look the other way. When they notice Five stealing away food in napkins in the great hall, they take all the little firsties on a field trip to the kitchens and show them how to tickle the pear.

(When Five approaches a seventh year with hands clenched into firsts and asks how to cast silencing charms around his bed, the seventh year takes him to the library and presses books about wards into his hands. If the pages with wards to chase away bad dream is bookmarked well, it came like that.)

(Five spends the next week sneaking into the Slytherin dorms and carving runes into Klaus’s bedposts. He only does his own as an afterthought, honest.)

Five pretends he doesn’t really care for his housemates, except they keep sneaking under his skin. The magicborn ones have nightmares, too. They lived through a war. Some of them tell Five they’re orphans, but he learns later that their parents are in wizarding prison for following a genocidal maniac. Five ends up carving good dream runes on almost every bed in the dorm.

They teach him how to play exploding snap and gobstones. They beg him for help in charms and ask him to read over their transfiguration essays. They show him all the good passageways. They drag him along behind them when a handful of them want to go investigate the Forbidden Forest because Five is the best at defense spells! Please! They’d be so much safer with Five there.

Abby keeps snacks in her pockets and is always offering some to Five, who takes them because his ability to jump tends to jumpstart his metabolism and takes a lot of energy. James helps Five with wand movements and sends for books from his family’s personal library when Five can’t find what he needs.

Jasmine is a fifth year who ruffles his hair and picks him up and spins him around, but she always telegraphs her intentions and gives him the option to back up and duck out. Hamish is a seventh year who fusses over all the first years and walks them through difficult homework assignments in his spare time. Rowan teaches him all the fun jinxes which aren’t actually in the curriculum but they insist are extremely important for every little witch and wizard to learn. 

No one minds when Five ditches them at meals and muscles his way into the Slytherin table to pile more food on Klaus’s plate and trade barbs with the Slytherins (who are all secretly fond of the Very Slytherin Hufflepuff). No one minds when Five steals Ben and Vanya from the Ravenclaw table and drags them to eat with him so they can regale him with the riddles they’ve answered and slip Five books they they stole from their common room 

(not that Five couldn’t get into the Ravenclaw common room. he can and will get into every house common room. It drives all the other house prefects and house pride kids insane. No one can figure out how he keeps popping up and bypassing the security. The other Hargreeves children roll their eyes but keep their lips zipped as well.

The other houses have approached Hufflepuff to beg them to put a leash on Five, but they close ranks and smile and tell them that if they can’t keep a first year from their common rooms, then it’s really their problem, isn’t it?)

sometimes Five mentions something offhand that he thought was normal but then the others just look like someone hit the ‘pause’ button for a few seconds as they process before giving Five a look which screams on god i will escort you to a psychologist myself

One of the seventh year prefects corners Five early on and asks him if he’s safe at home and basically offers to smuggle him out of Hogwarts come break if necessary. Five, who assumed it was common knowledge, is just kind of like “oh we lived with McGonagall for most of the summer. I dunno where we’re going next summer, but we’re staying at Hogwarts for winter break and stuff, so. yeah.”

and that prefect breathes a sigh of relief and passes on to the other prefects (in Hufflepuff and out of it) that the Hargreeves kids are Not In Custody Of Their Shitty Abusive Father

James: wow muggles sure have to get creative to abuse their kids huh

Five: i think dad was just. a special case. most parents can’t just toss their kids off a roof and expect no repercussions.

Abby: oh hey you could bond with Mr. Longbottom - the guy who’s training under Professor Sprout and is always around the greenhouse? I think his family tossed him out a window.

honestly the ONLY reason Five and the squad were probably taken away wasn’t even the Rampant Abuse because let’s be real Neville and Harry were never looked into. The reason was that Reginald was planning to ‘expose’ the magical community through the kids ‘powers’ and they couldn’t have that, especially not by a muggle goodness gracious. 

(Honestly, there’s a high likelihood that Reginald/Pogo/even Grace if that’s possible were probably obliviated - with contact with government people in the know to fix records etc. - and the knowledge of the magical community and the kids was straight up erased. After all, if Reginald was planning to expose ‘magic’ then he can’t be trusted with any knowledge even related to it)

as for Dolores

Five is thirteen and he learns about the chamber of secrets and all that and everyone is like “yeah only a parselmouth can get in there” and Five is like “haha you thought” because he can jump regardless of apparation wards so he trots on over to the girls bathroom, inspects the sink for a while, and then jumps

which was probably a mistake because he jumps into the empty space underneath yeah but it’s a dramatic slide down fuCK and he just pinwheels down and ends up in the chamber of secrets. Nice.

and so he does what everyone in the books didn’t seem to do - he explores. And look, Slytherin clearly spent a good amount of time down there, he probably left a bunch of stuff. It’s probably booby trapped, but Five has a passion for wards after the bad dream ones and he’s a malicious little shit so he also loves booby traps so. 

Slytherin would probably roll in his grave to know that a thirteen-year-old goes down to the Chamber of Secrets to systematically dismantle all the fun curses and traps just to pass the time. 

And within one of the booby trapped rooms is a painting, and within this painting is a teenage girl with close cropped hair and a raised eyebrow. She’s older than Five (for now) and she asks him what he’s doing here.

“Exploring,” Five says, with a shrug, rifling through some of the pieces of parchment still on the desk. “What about you?”

“What do you mean?” The girl asks, looking confused. 

“What are you doing down here?” Five clarifies, poking at a suspicious looking jar with his wand. 

“I’m a painting.” The girl says, crossing her arms, “Someone put me down here.”

“Who?”

“None of your business!”

Five shrugs, “Okay. Do you have a name, then?”

“Dolores.” Dolores says, not offering a last name. “You?”

“Five.” He shrugs through her incredulous look, “Yeah, like the number. Do you know what’s in this jar?”

It turns out she does. In fact, she knows an awful lot about pretty much everything down in the chamber, though she refuses to give him hints when it comes to what curses and wards and traps there are. She laughs at him when his attempts blow up in his face and ruins his umpteenth uniform for the year

(“Honestly Mr. Hargreeves.” Professor McGonagall says severely when he shows up with burned holes in his robes and a mildly sheepish expression. “This is the fourth time this week.”

“I can’t seem to get a hang of this spell.” Five says, mild as milk even though they’re both fully aware that he’s lying. 

McGonagall just fixes his robes and tells him to ask a seventh year to help or something with his ‘spell difficulty’ and Five thanks her brightly and flounces off to go directly back to the chamber and do some more wardbreaking while Dolores critiques everything he does)

“Did you know Salazar Slytherin?” Five asks her, frowning down at the book on ancient runes. 

Dolores sniffs, “I don’t want to talk about Sally. He wasn’t even that impressive.”

Five pauses in his writing for a second, “I am calling him Sally every day for the rest of my life and especially when I sit at the Slytherin table holy fuck.”

“He sucked at arithmancy.” Dolores offers with a shrug, “And his charm work was mediocre.”

“And yours was better?” Five asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Please,” Dolores scoffs, “I could cast circles around him.”

“Teach me?” Five asks, because he’s never been one to discard any leg up or resource.

“I’m just a painting.” Dolores says, frowning. “I can’t actually cast spells.”

“You don’t have to. Just explain them.”

“Oh,” Dolores bites her lip, “Oh. I don’t think anyone’s really cared about what paintings know before.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be the first.”

“Just for that I’m teaching you the shitty ones first.” Dolores tells him.

Five doesn’t tell anyone about her. He doesn’t tell anyone at all about the chamber, though he initially wanted to go down there to set up a spot for him and his siblings to gather. But it ends up being a place he can just go and escape to be by himself - because not many people know how to get down there.

“You know I’m not real.” Dolores tells him one day, when he’s trying to tackle the curses on one of the hidden rooms. 

Five shrugs, “You seem pretty real to me.”

“I’m just a painting. An imprint of someone who died years and years ago tied to paint. I’m - ”

“Two dimensional?” Five asks with a grin, and she swears at him colorfully for his cheek. “Look, Dolores. I never knew whatever version of you walked among us mere mortals - though I’m sure she was appropriately terrifying - so I don’t care about that person. I know you, as you are. I don’t care if you aren’t ‘real’ or whatever. Does it matter? I like talking to you.”

Dolores is silent for a long while after that. Five turns his attention to his notes while she thinks - sometimes she needs a moment to process. 

“Hey Five?” She asks, only continuing when she hears him hum. “Can you figure out how to destroy a magical painting?”

He looks up at her, a question in his eyes.

“I spent - I was down here for a really long time, Five. Alone. You’re going to leave Hogwarts one day, and you’re going to get all old and gross and wrinkly and then you’re going to die. But I won’t, because I’m not alive. I just want - ” Dolores trails off, looking frustrated. “I just want to know if it’s something even possible.”

Five considers this, and then he shrugs. “Yeah, okay.”

“Just like that?” Dolores sounds shocked, but Five just nods. 

“Yeah. It’s your immortal not-life, I figure you should get a say in it, right?”

Dolores is quiet after that, but when Five goes to leave, he hears he whisper a quiet thank you. Five only offers her a smile as he mentally carves out time to raid the library and maybe the Ravenclaw common room for information. 

I think Five keeps her company until she’s ready to let go (unlike the actual show where he lets her go). I dunno it’s just a really sad and poignant side story in Five’s life about letting go and mortality and agency and choice and what it means to be a person and how to live and how to die

Five and Dolores’s relationship is really complicated in the show so I wanted it to ALSO be really complicated in the wizarding world oof so yeah there you have it in this particular hp au Dolores is a painting in the Chamber of Secrets of a teenage girl who is just a little too smart and just a little too sentient and just a little too lonely

[ofmymuses]

꒰♡꒱ —  NAMES BY AESTHETIC.

part two of ??  ;  under the cut, you’ll find a bunch of name ideas based on different aesthetics  (academia, cottagecore, etc). if you find this post useful, please consider giving it a like / reblog so that i know ♡♡

grandparentcore—

alice

arthur

arlene

blanche

benjiman

billy / billie

betty

bernadette

constance

clara

clifford

clyde

dennis

dolores

dorothy

esther

elaine

edwin

ernest

frances

frederick

florence

gladys

geraldine

glenn

gertrude

henry

howard

helen

hazel

irene

irving

ida

jolene

judith

jude

jack

kenneth

loretta

louise

marjorie

margaret

miriam

marlon

nanette

otto

oswald

otis

phyllis

patsy

peter

ruth

randy

ruby

randall

ralph

roy

sue

susan

samuel

theresa

theodore

ursala

violet

vincent

victor

winifred

wilma

willie

wilbur

cyberpunk—

alexia

avalon

azura

bellatrix

badger

blade

bee

cyno

cressida

clarity

delphine

dixie

denari

delmare

dot

electra

ellio

ember

finnick

fluke

futura

genesis

glory

helvetica

haven

juno

jinx / jinkx

kay

ky / kai

kilo

luna

link

laya

magdelene

merrick

molly

neve

niander

nyla

niko

nymph

octavia

orion

onyx

oriana

pixie

parris

priya

rue

rainn

stitch

zero

kidcore—

aaliyah

alex

ariel

brynn

bobby

blue

connor

cassie

chloe

dodie

daisy

darcy

emmeline / emmilina

ella

freddy

gaten

grace / gracie / gracen

gianna

gabriella / gabby

holly

india

iris

indie

jeanie

joanna

kylie

kaylee

lacey

lia

lucy

macey

max

mika

maddison / maddy / maddie

may

melody

nia

nessa

olivia

oliver / ollie

poppy

rose / rosie

sydney

sadie

sam

teddy

taissa

tyler

vanessa

wybie

[the-bluest-of-blues]

How the Post-Movie Madrigals Would Defend Each Other Headcannons Part 1: Alma

Félix: The town doesn’t hate on him often (or ever really), so he doesn’t exactly need to be defended. Even so he can defend himself if need be. Alma may not consider him as needing to be defended but she will give a stern talking to if she hears someone talk shit about her son in-law.

Julieta: If Alma heard people talking trash about her daughter she would probably give them all an earful. Perhaps she would tell Julieta to not heal that particular person for a while.

Pepa: Same as Julieta except perhaps Alma would encourage Pepa to let loose a storm cloud or two over that particular person’s house.

Bruno: This would probably be the one that happens most often. The villagers are still very wary of Bruno and whisper about him, sometimes to his face. If post-movie Alma heard what they said about her son, you bet your ass they would get an earful. And perhaps a shoe to the head for good measure.

Agustín: Would probably be the same as Felíx, only it would occur more often as the villagers talk shit about how clumsy he is.

Isabela: If the villagers made comments about how she should be ’perfect’ or ’should have married Mariano’ Alma would give them an earful. She may still be trying to work on herself and her expectations, but you better believe she wouldn’t let anyone else say these things.

Dolores: The villagers would probably talk smack about her ’stealing Isabela’s man’. Alma would probably react similarly to how she defended Isabela.

Luisa: If the villagers try to ask too much of Luisa and Alma catches them, she would figure out which tasks absolutely needed to get done and reprimand all those with trivial tasks.

Camilo: If she catches people trying to get him to fill in for them too much or badgering him about his pranks, she wouldn’t hesitate to defend him.

Mirabel: If the villagers ever whispered about her lack of a gift, post-movie Alma wouldn’t overlook it. She’d definitely throw hands.

Antonio: As the certified baby of the family I don’t think people would be bad to him but if they were you better believe Alma would lose her mind.

(In case you couldn’t tell I don’t have many ideas for Alma)

*Here* | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Bonus

[alix-in-july]

Okay I've recovered from Omicron: Revenge of the Covid so I'm going to sort Encanto because I am OBSESSED with this super Badger movie. I've watched it several times and I get chills and I cry and I love it.

Before I actually sort anyone, I want to point out the similarities between the Badger authority figures in this film and in the Harry Potter series. Bruno disappeared and the magic might be dying? We absolutely do NOT talk about it. No one is allowed to talk about it. WE DON'T TALK ABOUT BRUNO. Just like how they try to hide Voldemort's return in HP.

Oh and because this movie is so focused on the family and there are sooo many characters that not all of them get focused on, for some of them I'm only going to sort the secondaries. Because almost everyone in the movie seems like a Badger primary and it's hard to figure out if it's real or a model.

Mirabel: Double Badger. Her main problems in the movie are that she is trying to save the family and that she feels excluded by the family. She still has to live in the nursery, people don't take her seriously, and she doesn't feel like she's a real Madrigal even though that's what she bases her identity on. For her secondary, she is a pretty loud Badger. She even mirrors her sisters' dancing in some of the songs. She's always trying to support the others and when she realizes there's a problem, she goes to various family members for answers. And the house is treated like a person and she relies on it for help A LOT.

"I've been patient and steadfast and steady."

Abuela: Authoritarian Double Badger. I mean, yeah. She sings about helping the community through hard work and dedication. She keeps everyone in line. She doesn't view Mirabel as not a person, but she kind of scapegoats her and views her as less than. Her pain and fear led her to explode and become an authoritarian figure.

"We swear to always help those around us/And earn the miracle that somehow found us/The town keeps growing, the world keeps turning/But work and dedication will keep the miracle burning/And each new generation must keep the miracle burning."

Luisa: Badger Lion. Her gift is super strength and she literally kicks a house back into place. Mirabel pesters her for two minutes and she completely spills her guts in song form about how she's worried about the family. I think she's exploded in a different direction from Abuela and just sees herself as a tool to help the family.

"I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service."

Isabela: Bird Lion? Isa is tricky because she's putting on an act for 90% of the film. She acts like a Badger, doing all these things she doesn't want for the good of the family, but then she does this sudden heel turn in "What Else Can I Do?" after making the cactus. You can almost hear her brain making the GPS "recalculating" noise. Which makes me think Bird primary. For secondary, I'm leaning toward Lion. When she's not putting on her act, she's confrontational and yells at Mirabel and hits people in the face with plants. And she just dives right into making all these new things and goes nuts with it.

"I make perfect, practiced poses/So much hides behind my smile/What could I do if I just grew what I was feelin' in the moment?"

"I'm so sick of pretty, I want something true."

Dolores: Lion secondary. I'm not sure about her primary because this Absolute Queen didn't get enough screentime. She can't keep a secret for more than 5 seconds and is brutally honest. "Mirabel didn't get one." Once the way is clear, she jumps right into confessing to Mariano.

"Okay, I'll take it from here, goodbye!"

Camilo: Snake Secondary. He's a shape-shifter and uses it to play tricks on people, get seconds, and entertain everyone.

Antonio: Badger secondary. His animal friends help him out. He goes to Mirabel for support when he's afraid at the beginning.

Pepa: Burned Lion Secondary with Badger Model. She wears her emotions on her sleeve because of her weather gift. But that's disruptive so she's always trying to squash her feelings down. She also worries a lot about making everything perfect and following the rules, which makes me think Badger model. But like Luisa, she needs only a few minutes of pestering before letting loose in song form.

"We don’t talk about Bruno, no, no, no/We don’t talk about Bruno, BUT--"

Julieta: Badger secondary. She heals people with her food. This is the epitome of Badger.

Bruno: Badger Bird? He only left the family because he felt his presence was doing more harm than good. He kicked himself out of his own community but still stayed in the house with his sad painted place setting, trying to fix the cracks. I'm not sure about the secondary but I'm leaning towards Bird because of the prophecies and his weird personas. But that's very tentative.

"And I wanted you to know/That your bro loves you so."

Bonus: Abuelo: Lion secondary. We see him leading the people away from their village and then turning to face the men on horseback, sacrificing himself.

This part makes me sob:

Lay down your load (Lay down your load)

We are only down the road (We are only down the road)

We have no gifts, but we are many

And we'll do anything for you

[aeoneri]

[What We Don’t See] Chapter 43: Guardar Secretos

Summary:

Bruno barely escapes before his secret can be revealed. -- Written in Bruno's and Gabriela's POV.

++++

“You’ve been distracted lately, Tío Bruno. Why is that?” Mirabel asks me as I help her make the spackle to plaster onto the walls. “Where are you escaping to these days?”

“Hm? Who’s Tío Bruno?” I joke as I hand her the trowel. “I’m Jorge.”

Her skirt makes an airy swishing sound as she quickly turns to face me. “Okay, Jorge,” She sighs defeatedly, a slight hint of impatience in her tone. “Where has my Tío Bruno been these days?”

“Oh, I haven’t seen him. I don’t know where he goes. You should ask him that. I’m just here to make spackle…”

Mirabel lifts the bucket off my head and I squint at the sudden light. “I’m being serious, Tío.” She gives me a leveling glare. “You’re acting very strange. Stranger than normal.”

“Heh…hey, Mirabel! Am I?”

“Tío Bruno…”

“Fine, fine. I…uh…just go into town.” I lie, knowing she won’t drop the subject unless I respond properly. There’s a scary glint in her eyes that I can’t quite place. “You know, checking everything out. It’s no place special…” 

“Really? Because I see a mishmash of flowers hidden in your ruana. Are you…meeting someone today, Tío Bruno?”

I immediately scoot away. Busted. 

It’s been two months since my sisters and I dropped by unannounced at the Álvarez household. 

Two months since…everything else.

Julieta and Pepa have been quiet up to now, though Pepa is getting impatient with the lack of progress. There are moments when she would do nothing but badger on if I’ve found Gabriela, sometimes within earshot of the rest of the town. I incessantly steer clear of the conversations, quelling the suspicions with fibs and half-truths.

The fear of losing my beloved again is reason enough to keep my mouth shut. Sometimes I feel guilty. I know they both treat Gabriela like a sister.

But I want to keep my time with her a secret for a little while longer.

It’s not easy to do so when everyone keeps a watchful eye on my actions. I’ve been increasingly more reclusive, always sneaking away whenever I get the chance. There are a handful of times when someone in the family comes too close to figuring everything out. When it happens, I hold out a bit longer and hope for the best. I haven’t had much luck in convincing Gabriela to come back home, but at least she’s slowly warming back up to me. Having anyone hot on my tail would complicate things.

Redirection is the only option I have.

Mirabel has her arms crossed, waiting for an answer. “What flowers?” I pretend not to know what she’s saying, deflecting her comment. “I, uh…think you’ll be able to handle the renovations on your own for today. I do have somewhere to be, so I better get going…”

I quickly break towards the exit, but Isabela suddenly appears out of nowhere, blocking my way. “HOLD ON, where do you think you’re going, Tío Bruno?” 

“Isa!” I shriek. I’m still getting used to her ‘wild child’ look. It suits her, though. “Didn’t see you there. May I…pass?”

“You’re going to run off to somewhere and leave us with your share of the work again, are you?” Her eyes turn into slits. “That’s not pretty fair.”

“No, I’m not! It’s just that…I have somewhere really urgent to be.”

“He’s hiding something!” Mirabel yells to her sister. “There are flowers hidden in his ruana!”

Santa mierda. I was hoping to avoid being the target of attention. Mirabel just placed the spotlight on me. “Your eyes are probably playing tricks on you, mi mariposita. No, no flowers!”

“What’s this about flowers, Mira?” Isabela asks, trying to peek behind me. “For whom?”

“De nuevo, ¡sin flores! And if I do have any, it’s not for anyone…”

“Don’t listen to him, Isa!” Mirabel insists. The way she talks comfortably around her sister makes me beam with pride but also fills me with dread. Who knew that the embrace would be the beginning of their rekindling relationship? The two are now attached at the hip, working together and even successfully matched Dolores with Mariano Guzmán, much to her glee. Their newfound bond reduced the amount of bickering that Julieta had to deal with, but meant that there was more trouble when they play pranks on the family. And when someone is the subject of their interest, it’s hard to shake them off. “Tío is lying, look at his face! He won't tell me who or what it’s for, but I think he’s probably going off to see someone special.”

That stops Isabela in her tracks. “Wait. What?” She stares at me. There’s a terrified look on my face knowing the pieces are coming together in her mind. “You...you’ve…?”

“OKAY, I have to go now. ¡Adiós! I’ll be back before dinner!” I exhale in one breath and retreat, not daring to look behind me. 

++++

I break into a sprint towards the mountains the soonest I get myself out of the house, careful to take alternative routes to ensure I don’t get followed. If I’m not yet ready to let the truth be known to the world, I’m sure Gabriela isn’t keen on it either. Why else would she be living in seclusion instead of being in town?

“Gabriela?” I call out when I finally reach the clearing. I find her outside, tending to her small garden. Her hair is tied up high on her head, stray ringlets grazing her forehead. My breath catches in my throat at the sight.

Tan hermosa, mi amor.

“There you are,” I find my voice moments later. “You look so beautiful. I mean…hi. Sorry, I took so long. I had a little bit of a mishap at home.”

“Oh, hey,” She beams at me and my heart immediately jumps. “That’s okay. I wasn’t expecting you for at least another couple of hours. Are you done with the renovations for the day or did you leave early again?”

I offer her a weak smile and fight the urge to replay the events in my head. In the past, Gabriela avoided using her gift unless needed, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t 'hear' bits and pieces of anyone’s thoughts. 

I don’t want to take any chances. 

She tuts at me disapprovingly as she pats the dirt off her skirt. “Mmmhmm. Figures. The house won’t be finished in time before the rainy season starts again if you keep escaping to see me, Bruno.”

“There are three more months before that even happens,” I assure her, relieved that she didn’t pick up on my nervousness. I allow myself to relax. “I think we’d be able to finish the house fairly quickly given the whole town is helping out.”

“Still, that’s not much time. Casita is big.”

“Ay, trust me, it’s more than enough. The second floor is almost set and we’re now working on the tower wing.” I shrug nonchalantly. “They’ll be fine. I have ten years' worth of catching up to do.”

Gabriela rolls her eyes. “Hm. You’re illogical sometimes, Bruno Madrigal. I’ll never understand you.”

“Ah, but you love me anyway, don’t you?”

She shoots a look and I reel myself back in. Too soon? “Um…” I gulp when the silence becomes a little awkward. Sometimes I forget that Gabriela doesn’t see me the same way as I do with her. “...I wasn’t thinking again. I’m not trying to rush you into anything. Ah, I…I got these for you.” I hand her the flowers I’ve been hiding in my ruana. “A gift. Sorry, they’re a little smooshed.”

I wish I knew how to woo someone. I didn’t need to court Gabriela in the first place when our relationship then just simply…happened. I feel out of my element, but I want to make her feel special every chance I get. I missed out on so many years.

If only I could give her the entire world.

Better late than never.

“What’s with that expression? I’m not mad at you,” Gabriela says as she takes the bouquet from my hands. “They do look messed up, but I love them. Gracias, Bruno.”

“I thought I said something stupid.” I chuckle nervously. “I know…I still have to prove myself.”

“Yes, but…ay, I don’t know what to expect with you. You always leave me wondering. Maybe that’s why I like you.”

“You do?” 

“Don’t let it get to your head, you’re still not forgiven,” Gabriela bumps my side with her hip playfully. She presses her nose to the flowers and breathes in. “Anyway, you didn’t get a sneezing fit when you were getting these, were you?”

“What?” I’m in the clouds at this point. “A little, but…you remember?”

“How could I forget?” She grins. “I mean, you shouldn’t put yourself in harm’s way for me, but this is such a nice surprise.”

“Oh, heh,” The cool metal of her ring that's hidden around my neck feels like it’s burning my skin. Or maybe it’s just me. “It’s not much trouble. I like seeing you smile. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for mi princesa.”

Gabriela’s face immediately flushes pink at my words. “Speaking of which,” She coughs, turning away to enter her home. “Can you hold on for a moment? I’ll put these in a vase.” 

“It’s okay. I’ll just be here.”

I blush when she suddenly kisses me on the cheek. Before I can say anything else, she leaves me alone, softly closing the door behind her. My heart is beating so fast and I wonder if I’m imagining things. A wide grin spreads across my face.

The feeling of the kiss lingers.

It’s slow, but it’s progress. 

Just like the house, I’m rebuilding our relationship all over again.

++++

I stare at the flowers Bruno gave me earlier with a big, goofy smile on my face. We just spent the afternoon together by the river, quietly enjoying each other’s company. He told me the next installment of his telenovela, new stories about the family, and even gossip in town. It warmed my heart knowing he’s finally doing well, and that people are treating him the way he should have been treated in the first place. Bruno is much livelier and less alone, though it's sad to know Casita had to fall for their family to become whole again.

He looks a whole lot more attractive when he’s happy.

“You’re being crazy,” I tell myself for the umpteenth time as I burrow into my arms, trying to quell the excited feeling sitting in the pool of my stomach. Recently, I find myself looking forward to his visits. He’s making an effort to rekindle our friendship first and didn’t push me to decide right away. It made everything easier.

I’m drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. He feels familiar. He feels like…home.

Home. I haven’t been home in so long, ever since that day. Bruno and I are so similar and yet so different in so many ways, forever watching and guiding our families from the shadows. Maybe that’s why we are a perfect match.

WERE. I suppress the thought, but the more I do, the more Bruno comes to mind. All of my emotions start jumbling together into one hot mess. “Him calling you ‘mi princesa’ doesn’t mean anything." I chant the reminder. "I’m not in love with Bruno Madrigal. No. No way.”

As soon as the words leave my lips, my mind betrays me. My pulse quickens, pounding in my ears when I remember kissing him on the cheek like a shy schoolgirl. I groan in embarrassment. Why am I acting the same way I did when we were younger? “We’re starting to become friends again." I fret. It can't be, can it? "I’m not FALLING in love with Bruno…”

Denial, denial.

A knock on the door breaks me from my reverie. I turn to the wall clock behind me to check the time. Who would be here this late? 

Another knock. “Is anyone home?” A voice calls out. 

“Yes! Um, coming!” I say as I get up from my seat. I’m thankful for the distraction, but it makes me wonder who's outside at this hour. I rarely get visitors, what with me living in the densest part of the forest. Most of the time it’s just a random villager that mistakenly took a wrong turn and needed to find their way back into town.

I ignore the goosebumps rising from my arms as I turn the knob. I'm probably overthinking things. “How may I help–” I stop short when I see who it is. “–you?”

Qué diablos. Joder.

What in heaven’s name are they doing here?

++++

Glossary of terms (in order of appearance in-text): De nuevo, ¡sin flores! - Again, no flowers! Tan hermosa - So beautiful

-- Research links for this chapter: Best time to visit Colombia (for the weather)

Back to main | Previous chapter | Next chapter

[painted-crow]

Has anyone sorted Dolores Umbridge?

If I'm remembering right, Inky and Kat Sorted her as a Hufflepuff primary who dehumanizes most people really strongly. (@sortinghatchats)

I forget what they said her secondary was. She's not a Snake (she never really changes her tactics). You could say she uses some Courtier Badger, in that she gets power from other people and wins allies by doling out authority herself, but I don’t like that much; it's very limited. If anything it's probably a performance. And Bird... nah.

I think she's probably a Lion tbh. She kinda just barges in and hammers people with the "I'm from the Ministry and have Unregulated Authority" card, over and over again.

I'm not sure how on board I am with Dolores as a Hufflepuff primary, honestly. It doesn't not work, but I just don't remember seeing her prioritize people she actually sees as people, because idk if they're ever on screen. I feel like she might be an exploded Lion who just doesn't give a crap about people who don't agree with her ideals, and she seems loyal to the Minister because he does.

[ashes-and-ashes]

For the kisses list.. if you want 75 or 13... Good life :)

Okay so I did a speed write thing? This took me 30 minutes, and is 1.7k words. Sorry if it is crappy - I just was trying to write as many words as I can! (And I know it’s not 2k’s!! Sorry!!! I tried, but I’ve only written 2k words ONCE and that was when writing that Drarry fic!!)

#75 - Kisses meant to distract someone

~

Distraction

He stares at the paper, crumpled in his hand. The ink is smudged from where he grasped it, the edges ripped and slightly torn.

The words are darkly printed, carved into the parchment in a writing that is so familiar to him, a writing that haunts his dreams every night. Regulus’ writing is elegant, clean lines and defined print, so different from Sirius’ untidy scrawl. He supposed Regulus had always been like that, always willing to do anything to please his parents.

The words are burned into his memory, from the countless number of times he’s read the letter. The owl came at breakfast, landing in front of his porridge bowl, and he still remembers the feeling of nausea fishing up in his throat as he swallows.

Sirius,

Don’t come home. You can’t. I know you’re thinking of it, but you can’t. They will kill you. Actually, physically kill you.

Mum has burned you off the family tree. You can’t be a Death Eater anymore. You’ve been disowned.

I’m fine. They haven’t hurt me too bad yet.

Don’t respond. They are watching my mail.

-R

There’s something like Shane burning in his chest, a thick oily feeling that fills his stomach, his heart, his soul. He abandoned Regulus, left him at the mercy of his parents, unprotected and vulnerable and he feels vile rise up in his mouth. He swallows, hard, trying to banish the feeling.

He remembers when they were 7 and 6, both hiding underneath Sirius’ bed. Hiding from their mother, who even back then had no qualms about taking her fury out on her two sons. She had lashed out at Regulus, making his nose bleed, before Sirius had stepped in. He had earned a nasty cut in his forehead, and they huddled under the bed, trying not to sneeze from all the dust lurking in the cracks.

Regulus had whispered, keeping his voice low. I hate it here.

Sirius nodded. Me too.

Regulus tugged at Sirius�� sleeve, pulled at his hair. I don’t like it here. I don’t like being hurt. He pauses. We should run away, Sirius! We can escape, to that school you’re going to! Hogwarts or something, and we can ask if they would let us in early and - .

There’s something like hope in his chest, imagining the life they would have if they did decide to run. Run, far away, where Walburga couldn’t catch them, where they didn’t have to live in fear of the curses, the screaming, the pain and the injuries.

He scoffs, punching himself. It was a foolish thought, a hopeless one, and Sirius bit his lip. He had learnt, years before, that screaming only infuriated Walburga more, encouraged her to keep cursing, and so, he had taught himself not to make any noise. No. But I promise, I will always protect you.

From her? Regulus had asked.

Sirius nodded his head. Yes. I’ll always be there for you. Always.

He grimaces now, that broken promise slicing up his chest. It had shattered, into sharp, ugly things, twisted remains of past vows, and Sirius swears, under his breath.

He’s alone in the common room, taking up one of his favorite desks, and he sighs as he bends over an essay. Transfiguration, a 6 inch roll of parchment on the dangers of vanishing living objects, and it was due in roughly 8 hours.

Sirius glances at the clock, and he bangs his head on the table. 2 am in the morning, and he still had another 5 inches left to go.

He bites his lip. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate, ever since he left, the guilt and the anguish eating him up inside. The nightmares had returned, Regulus chained up and screaming, Remus writhing under silver weights, Peter being burned alive and James drowning. Dark dreams for someone so young, and yet, they never faded away. It was harder to concentrate, to laugh and speak, getting harder and harder to sometimes breathe.

He can feel the panic, at the back of his throat, bitter and metallic and raw. He swallows hard, trying to banish the feeling, trying to ignore it, trying to think of something else other then the mindless, suffocating terror that always starting to overwhelm him -

He hears the door creak open, and his heart stops. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this, on the verge of shattering completely, and he hastily arranges his mouth into a smile, causally rests his feet on the couch. He stares down at the essay, the words swimming together, praying that whoever walked in would just leave him alone -

He recognizes the person before they speak, recognizes the way their footsteps scho against the ground, the lock of brown hair that falls over his shoulder, the cool hands on his face. Remus frowns, reading over the 1 inch of his essay, the rambled words and slurred writing. “Si. You know this is due tomorrow right?” He pauses. “Well. Technically today, seeing as it is 2:26 in the morning and you still haven’t finished.”

“Shut up,” Sirius mutters, letting his head rest against Remus’. “It’s fine. I’ll get it down. Hell, I may even call it quits. Suck it up and accept a detention or something.”

Remus shakes his head, frowning over Sirus’ shoulder. “Look...this isn’t like you, Pads. Seriously, you’re disorganized, but not this disorganized.”

Sirius shakes his head. “Tell me about it.” He yawns. “Anyways, I need to finish. I…”

He trails off, cursing himself as he watches Remus’ eyes fix on the piece of paper lying on the ground by Sirius’ foot. Sirius jumps, trying to wrench it away from Remus’ eyes, but Remus is too quick for him. He lunges forward, snatching the scrap of paper and flattens it out. “What the hell is thsi, Si?”

Sirius shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit.” Remus eyes are dark, scanning the page in front of him. “You’ve been disowned?”

The cold sinks into Sirius’ gut, the shame of the words eating him up inside. He sinks down, onto the floor, biting his lip as he did so. “I don’t know. It’s...it’s from Regulus. I…” He lets out a bitter laugh. “I abandoned him. Left him alone, with my fucked-up parents. And...guess they disowned me.”

Remus looks up. “Why can’t you get the Dark Mark now?”

Sirius sighs. “If I’m disowned...I’m not part of a family, right? I’m not part of the Sacred 28. I can’t be a Death Eater. I’m not considered a pure blood.” He shakes his head. “God. I don’t even know why I care so much. I shouldn’t care, right? I should be celebrating, because I got away from my parents! I’m finally free.” He bites his lip. “So why do I feel like I’m being ripped apart inside?”

Remus reaches over, packing a hand on Sirius’ cheek. “It’s natural. They raised you. They are still your family.”

“Buckshot. Family wouldn’t torture their own child.” Suspensions dogs the words out. “Family wouldn’t use Crucio until their own son passes out. Family wouldn’t lock their child in a cellar with no food for 3 days because the child spilt some water. Family wouldn’t tell their son every minute, every hour, every second of the day that he is wrong, because he’s in a different house then them.” Sirius’ voice is quiet, drifting off, shattered and dull and broken. “Family wouldn’t do that. They are not my family.”

Remus nods, glancing over at the essay lying on the ground. “I’m sorry, Sirius. I’m so sorry.”

Sirius shrugs. “Life is screwed up. Can’t do anything about it.”

“Why didn’t he leave?” Remus glands back down at the paper. “Why didn’t he leave with you? Why didn’t he run?”

Sirius lets out a short chuckle. “That’s Regulus. Always worried about the family’s reputation.” He bites his lip, hard, hard enough that the blood wells in his mouth. He welcomes the pai, the sudden bite of the air against the bleeding cut, and he scoffs. “Probably too scared to riks badgering mother.”

Remus frowns. “He sent you the letter.”

“Not that hard, to get one measly letter out the door.” Sirius mutters. He turns to the essay, almost ripping the paper in his ferocity. “I have to get this out.”

“Sirius - “ Remus sighs. “He’s your brother, Sirius. He cares for you.”

“Cares for me?” Sirius’ voice is flat. “I protected him. For 16 goddamn years I protected him. I took every Crucio, every Lacero, every Dolor and Confodere and Spinam and I did it to keep him safe because if he was hurt, it would kill me.” He stabs at the paper, tearing a rip in the side, smearing the ink over the page. “And I carry the scars around, all over my back, and he didn’t do anything. He did nothing, nothing to help me, nothing tos save me and when I finally snapped - “

“He let you go.” Remus’ voice is calm, gentle. He pulls away from the desk, cradling his shaking body with his own. “I could never imagine, what you go through. I’m just saying that maybe Regulus planned this out. Maybe he wanted you to hate him.”

Sirius lets out a short laugh. “Why would he want you to do that.”

“Because.” Remus brushes the hair from Sirius’ face. “You wouldn’t feel inclined to stay behind if you hated him.”

The words sink deep, slicing Sirius up inside, and he glares down at the floor, trying not to cry. “That’s not true. Why would he - “

There are gentle hands on his face, tilting his chin up, and Remus cuts him off with a kiss. It’s sloppy, at an awkward angle, Remus bending over him, just a slight brushing of lips, but Sirius feels himself melting. He reaches up, grasping Remus’ face, cupping his cheekbones with his palms, pressing them closer, pressing them harder, so close until all they can do is breathe each other in.

Remus huffs a laugh. “Distracted?”

“Shut up,” Sirius mutters, pulling Remus on top of him.

~

When Sirius wakes up the next morning, the couch is cold.

He sits up, frowning, running a hand through his already disheveled hair, glancing at the clock.

He almost falls off the cushions with shock. It’s 7:30, classes start in 45 minutes and he still has another 5 inches left on his essay -

The thought dies off as he looks beside him, sees the roll of parchment on the desk. Sirius gapes as he walks over, sees the scroll resting neatly on the table. Beside it is a note:

Sorry for distracting you. xoxox Re

[kristie-rp]

we don’t have to dance | leo & rita

“Did you see what Dolores was wearing?”

“I know, right? It’s like she thinks she’s half her age!”

Leo excuses himself from the insipid nattering and schoolgirl giggling of the more permanent members of the biology and genetic department of PLU, feigning a need for another drink. It’s an act, but he still goes to the counter and deduces what the least foul tasting thing is on the menu, settling on bourbon and removing it from the barman with absolutely no patience.

He regrets agreeing to come to post-networking drinks with the department staff. He attended the formal little party attempted by the university, forging connections he didn’t need, playing a part he didn’t have much of a use for except as a means of social experimentation. The girls – specifically Enid or Ella or Eris, even, for all the discord she seems to be sewing – asked him along and, after enough badgering, he’d resigned himself to agreeing. Only after a promise that this would be the last time this semester had he agreed, and even that had been pushing the limits of his willingness to socialise. Particularly when it turned out their location of choice was Clandestine, a bar-club hybrid home to heavily discounted drinks if clients could prove they’d taken to filling the dancefloor.

Needless to say, he wasn’t impressed with the grinding mass he had to dodge to get what he wanted.

“What do you know, professors do exist outside of class.”

Leo stifles a groan, pasting on a mild smile and turning. “Yes, well, I have been told that leaving the classroom is healthy sometimes – Miss Partridge,” he adds, somewhat surprised to see her. She’d been in the front row of a lecture he’d given on developmental theory, with an emphasis on biology and genetics too advanced for most of the class, there to satisfy an elective. Miss Partridge had argued with him off and on throughout the lecture, and when she wasn’t, she was scrawling notes, her handwriting spidery and cramped when Leo got a look at her notebook. He’d taken her for a curious busybody, clever and enjoyable to argue with, but hadn’t expected to run into her again so soon – let alone outside a classroom. “Finished your homework, Miss Partridge?”

She scoffs and grins, which he notes mostly because it doesn’t seem to reach her eyes. He wonders, initially, if the dim lighting are minimising her expressions, but no – a flash of light as the bartender switches something on behind the bar, and he’s confirmed she’s forcing a larger smile than he thinks seems at home on her face. “I was done before it was given a due date,” she claims, and he raises a brow in response. “And call me Rita, please. Miss Partridge is my sister.”

“That seems unlikely, then, Rita. And did any of my lecture content prove useful?”

“Did anything in your lecture on genetic abnormalities and expression of unique genes prove useful to an assignment on education-development development? No. It was more interesting, though, I’ll give you that.”

He opens his mouth to ask another question – namely, to figure out what she’s actually studying, because those topics seem at odds, and she clearly understands the more advanced content he prefers – but the music flares louder, catching both their attention as the lights die and a spotlight roves the crowd.

“Oh no,” Rita says, barely audible to him over the audience chanting – it takes him a moment to parse the slurred chaos: dance, dance, dance. He remembers, too, one of the reasons Clandestine is so dearly loved by much younger people: the dancelight, a spotlight controlled by the DJ who picks out a couple and tries to force them on each other.

He’s not particularly surprised when the spotlight lands on them, if he’s honest.

Rita is chewing on her lip when Leo looks at her again, but she pastes that strained smile back on and grabs his hand, dragging him from the bar and towards a door, away from the dance floor. The crowd whoops and the DJ announces another successful match, turning the spotlight on the masses again; he thinks he hears maybe-Eris cheering him specifically as the door swings shut behind them.

“Look,” Rita starts, not giving him a moment to take in the alley back-entrance to the club. “I was going to attempt flirting and waste probably far too much time building this up, but I don’t actually want a romantic connection. You’re smart, and that’s hot as anything I can come up with myself, and I could pay heed to culturally ingrained disapproval of overt sexual advances, but frankly that sounds boring and exhausting, so. Are you attracted to me or not?”

Leo blinks, looking at Rita properly. Her appearance caught his attention to start with – orange hair is unusual in their society, at least enough that they stand out, and despite her clearly being ginger, she isn’t freckled; her skin is almost flawless, an ethereal quality to it in the grey half-light that came in through the classroom window where he first encountered her. Now, she’s dressed for a club, her dress tight and black and flattering, but she’s pulled a coat on over the top, apparently sensible and dressed to be rained on, as is certainty in Port Lyndon. She isn’t smiling, none of that forced farce from earlier so much as hinted at. Her eyes – they hold a spark that draws him in, and when she opens her mouth, she is constantly surprising, intelligent and well-reasoned and with a clever, sharp wit that she wields like a knife.

“I’d take you here against the wall, if you’d let me,” he says.

She nods, once, sharply, and steps closer, kissing him intently, all passion and fury he expected, when he imagined doing this after the one class he’s led with her. “Not in an alley,” she murmurs against his lips, returning to a kiss.

They don’t have to dance, or smile, or be friends, or anything like that; she is not interested in social tedium, and she has made that abundantly clear. So he escorts her back to his apartment, and has her again and again and again, fucked into the mattress, with her riding him, with him tasting her directly, drinking from the source, lapping it up as she rewards his ministrations by cumming again and again.

He wakes the next morning to grey light in the window, rolling onto his side to find Rita sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling her clothing back on. Her tight black dress had turned out to be a precisely matched top and skirt, and she is pulling the top on now, over the top of her bare chest. He hums in faint protest as she covers herself, and she casts a glance over her shoulder, no sentiment in her gaze as she knocks aside his questing hands. “I have a class in 30 minutes,” she says, clearly uninterested. He blinks at her, half expecting whiplash for the change from last night, which she was abundantly, vocally interested in. “Thanks.”

She collects her belongings and leaves, smelling of sex and looking almost too put together, leaving him with a hard-on that seems to want her, and far too many questions. He sits up in bed to dwell on them, sheets falling around him, frowning at the reflection of a well-fucked man cast by the mirror attached to the wardrobe door.

They aren’t friends, he thinks. They only on a first name basis because she flinches whenever she hears her own surname. They fell into bed because she didn’t want to dance with him, and, admittedly, because he had no interest in dancing himself; what they did instead was preferable, and he’s happy to have done it, and he doesn’t have any regrets, but – but. He isn’t any closer to solving the riddle of Rita Partridge, and maybe that’s the most frustrating thing. If this happens again – when it happens again – he resolves to talk more, to get some answers, instead of more questions.

(It happens again, and again, and again, until Rita moves on from college and becomes more and more occupied with whatever it is she seems to be doing to fund college. He has very few answers, and the questions only increase, but – but. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.)

[littlerit]

Dolores as Five’s Daemon

[ID a white on black canvas style drawing, featuring a shoulder up drawing of Five Hargreeves, who is facing away from the viewer and looking back at them over his left shoulder with a frown. to his right shoulder is a side on portrait of a european badger (Dolores) looking up and away from Five.]

hey @tuaaugust I'm not too late right? its only 10 months after the event…..

anyway, I've headcanoned Dolores as Fives daemon, and specifically as a european badger so hard, and apparently it still wont leave me alone.

I was hoping to have a little drabble to post with this today but the creative juices were dry.

[teabooksandsweets]

Top five Narnia characters. Top 5 CotIG characters, Top 5 historical CotIG characters, Top 5 literary villains, top 5 Celtic Women songs? Sorry if that’s a lot. Al, CCaPoN

Ah, the more the merrier! Thank you for asking!

Top five Narnia characters

(I will not include Aslan, because he has an extra position!)

Digory Kirke

Lucy Pevensie

Jill Pole

Puddleglum

Polly Plummer

Top five CotIG characters

All three badgers (no contest!)

Laura Glue

Charles Williams

Rose Dyson

Archimedes

Top five historical CotIG characters

(I will include neither Charles nor Archimedes in this list, because I’d rather not have them twice!)

Jack-Jack the Giant Killer (C. S. Lewis)

Ron Jon Tollers (J. R. R. Tolkien)

Shacksberd (William Shakespeare)

Purple Unicorn Detective (Aristophanes)

The Man I Love But Who Didn’t Exactly Show Up (Oscar Wilde)

Top 5 literary villains

Ledroptha Curtain (because amazing villain)

Mordred/Madoc (because amazing redemption ark)

Dolores Umbridge (because very successful as a villain - I detest her!)

The Dark (because portrayed in so many, so very real ways)

Miss Rawgabbity (because she’s from my book, so...)

Top five Celtic Woman songs

The Soft Goodbye

O Come All Ye Faithful

Mo Ghile Mear

One World

Isle of Hope, Isle of Tears