#i just. people assume romantic love is required for happiness

[nonnydog]

Do you guys ever think about love. (Obvious question)

I’m now about three months out from ending my first ever relationship. It was complicated and good and great and sad and all of the above—somewhat tragic, yet inevitable. (Yes it was a wlw relationship, to everyone asking.) I finally got my first kiss at the ripe age of 21, lol. And we’re coming up on what would’ve been our one year in Fall pretty soon.

But, on the opposite end now. . . I finally feel like I’ve lost feelings for that woman. She’s still my friend, but that romantic energy is gone. I got rid of it. So did she.

I have always had complicated feelings about romance. I never felt it was something necessary to fulfillment in life (im birom/bisexual, for context, but there was a period where I wondered if I was aro/ace or some unique combo). I really value my independence and being able to do what I want when I want to. I know this is sounding trademark commitment issues, but I think it’s more that I’ve realized that maybe a romantic, long-term relationship isn’t for me.

Obviously, I’m happy for all those who want to pursue romance and long-term stuff, etc. And I know there are less tight relationships—like, I really like the idea of having separate bedrooms. But for me. . . I’m not sure if that life, in general, is for me.

I’m not sure that I want to have to take another person’s wants and needs into consideration when thinking about moving places, buying things, etc. Issa lot. I have friends who love me. I have friends who hug me. Obviously, other things would be nice, but it’s not like I’d be without people or touch should I choose to not pursue a partner.

I feel things about those posts that say “are they too close to be friends? Or are you just not close enough to your friends?” I think we should all be closer to our friends. And romantic relationships are not paramount. They can be enhancing, but, imo, they should not make or break life.

I just don’t think romance should be assumed as a default thing. As something required for happiness. As something everyone is expected to do.

I could be wrong about my personal preferences here—or, they may change overtime. I’m not sure yet. Just thinking about love, and such, as of late.

[byuntrash101]

realistic sex with san

san x f!reader fluff | smut | mdni a/n: welcome to this series. where i'll try to imagine how each member would actually fuck, as ✨realistically✨ as possible. happy sannie day. enjoy ♡ disclaimer: i say realistic but lets be honest this is pure delulu behaviour and total fiction. everything is solely based on the vibes the boys give off.

i feel like san isn’t the pursuing kinda guy. he’s really shy at the beginning, especially if he’s crushing on you. since he’s a cancer baby ♋ he would actually avoid you/ignore you. 

At first you would just think he just does not care about you, not necessarily hate you because he would seem so laid back about it but in reality his heart is racing when he sees you and it’s just easier for him to avoid you

so why doesn’t he just go for it? what??? no! you’re crazy? what if you weren’t interested? he would never be able to accept the rejection. so he’d rather have this crush stay as it is. unless you take actions into your own hands? (spoiler it's what you’ll have to do to score this man)

at some point the others are tired of seeing san snob you when you’re around then gush about you when you’re away so one of the member just spills the tea (spoiler alert it was either joong or woo because they were sick of it or yeosang but he didn’t mean to)

so with that new knowledge you’ll just have to make your move

i think he has a careful/cautious nature so he doesn't fold immediately because you could be playing games we never know but he definitely doesn't take long before he gives in because he’s head over heels and can't resist you

after a while, if your actions and words are consistent things change. he gets confident and he’s all over you all the time.

he’s pda line with mingi and woo

he just loves to have you near him, he wants to feel that you are near.

if there’s people around he wont care he just wants to hold your hand or for you to sit on his lap (if he’s feeling naughty he will even sneak his hand on your ass, give a light quiet little spank or just squeeze it in his large gym rat hand because this man just loves your ass)

he’s perfectly fine with you doing your own thing. he doesn't require to be doing every single little thing together but he wants to stroke your thigh when you’re reading and he’s watching his cheesy romantic kdrama. because yeah san is a whole ass romantic. the hopeless kind.

but he’s also realistic. he knows loves comes from trust and communication and oh boy he just knows how to talk to you. even if he’s a little susceptible sometimes (i think he is a sensitive boy thats who’s hiding being the muscle mountain) he always communicates with you effectively. and that's because of his nurturing nature (cancer baby ♋)

At the end of the day san wants to coddle you, cherish you, LOVE YOU.

he has so much love to give. i mean he said it himself he grew up receiving a lot of love so he knows how to receive it and give it

speaking of it love isnt san’s only infinite resource 

i feel like san has also a lot stamina probably the highest out of all of them doesn't mean he has the highest sex drive (that’s probs mingi or joong) but when he’s in the mood he can go for a looooonnng time he is tireless, he is relentless

for instance he never taps out first. when your body is exhausted and your shivering and trembling and he’s came thrice already you have all the rights to assume he is done but then he folds your legs up on your chest again and you whimper because you don’t know if you can take it anymore so he whispers “please baby i just need one more, okay? will you be my good girl, just one more time?” you moan and arch your back as he slides in and he shivers from slight overstimulation. but nonetheless you look up to him through your wet lashes and nod. so he instantly starts to sharply snap his hips against yours, making you whimper meekly. “that's right baby. I knew you could do it, you’re doing so well” he whispers as he gently holds your chin up to bend down and kiss you.

that would be a common occurrence if he’s domming BUT! san is a switch especially with you he likes to hand out the reigns once in a while because he trusts you.

and if he subs that stamina becomes your greatest ally. you can just tie him up and work him with a fleshlight for hours, milking him so many times that the last orgasm has his cock twitching but nothing coming out anymore. You make him cum so much that you both lose count at some point. if he finishes and he softens a little sloppy kiss, a little teasing of his nipples (i feel like he has sensitive nipples idk why kdslmfkdfdmlskf) and then boom he’s hard again. that man just can’t resist you. and he whines for you to stop, to continue, he’s not sure. you can just make him go insane and he loves that.

ok so i teased it in yunho’s part but i think san has a size kink. big one. 

the reason behind it i think is actually an insecurity of his. i don’t think he’s satisfied with his height you can kinda pick up in his body language that it’s a sensitive subject whenever it’s brought up by the other members and i think it’s also part of the reason why he works out so much. sure he will never be tall tall but he can definitely be big. so i think san would be into a partner that’s smaller than him (rip us tall girlies)

so he loves to tower over you, he loves that he’s able to hide you behind him, completely conceal you.

if he’s fucking you missionnary he loves to really emphasize that. “look at you, so small down there?” he loves taking the overly sweet and condescending tone when he doms (it makes you melt every time). “you’re doing so well for me baby. your tiny little body is taking my big cock so well” and he would lay his weight on you, really making you feel small.

also quick side note regarding 🍆 size. i don't think san is really long i think he’s average BUT he’s definitely girthy. He’s got some width to him and i also think he’s slightly curved upwards and god does he take advantage of that. if he fucks you missionary the angle is just devine and he loves to push down on your belly making sure you really feel him (dont mind me screaming rn because of san’s secret bulge kink)

he also loves when you tend to his size kink while he’s subbing. that could sound counterintuitive at first but hear me out

if he’s lying on his back on your shared bed and you are riding him and edging him he would keep his hands to his side not to influence your rhythm. he goes absolutely insane when you say “look at you big boy?” giving a particularly harsh bounce. “you’re suffering quietly? why aren’t you flipping me over and taking me exactly how you'd want” at this point he would beg and squirm so perfectly. “i know why because you know you must not. because you’re a good boy and you’d anything keep it that way right baby?” maybe teasing his nipples a little bit making him grit his teeth. “yes yes i wanna be good for you. i wanna be your good boy. p-please. ah fuck… pleaseplease”. so there you turn around and aim for the finish line he just can't get enough of seeing your perfect ass bounce on his cock. it’s his favorite position he just loves it whether he doming or subbing he loves it and it doesn't take long before he collapses and stuffs you full of pipping hot cum with grunts interspersed with small whimpers.

then when sexy time is done i feel like san is the kind of guy that has to hop in the shower he doesn't stand being sticky especially to bed. if you’re too tired it’s okay because he’s strong and he will carry you to the bathroom and wash you and then he’ll tuck you in bed and spoon you 

he’d rather be the little spoon because he’s a big pouty baby after sex. but he’ll settle for anything if he gets to sleep curled up with you

bonus: i think san’s special kink would be recording you, making a sex tape with you. then watching it together. he would actually love to see more clearly how good he makes you feel or how small you actually look next to him. something he cant really see when he’s in the heat of the moment. he would also definitely tease you about it. “look at you, love. you’re shaking. i guess i must be that good” he would get so cocky about it but if you retort anything his wits go from 100 to 0 real fast. “what about you? look at you fucking moaning and worshipping my pussy? you really can’t get enough of it can you?” then he pouts for a second. Then he wraps his strong arms around your waist and pulls you close to him. “you’re right i can’t get enough of your pretty little pussy.” gives you a kiss on your nape and breathes heavily against your skin “i love how wet you get for me.” an other kiss and another sultry whisper. “can you show me again?” (circle back to the stamina thing… he’s INSATIABLE 😵‍💫)

IF U WANNA HELP ME PLEASE REBLOG WITHOUT USING THE COMMUNITY LABELS 🖤

a/n: finally back with this series! san was so fun to write actually. who will be next jongho, yeosang or hongjoong? just request them in the comments hehe <3

realistic sex with seonghwa, with mingi, with yunho, with wooyoung

ateez masterlist | navigation

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

Hi! I would love to request some cuddling scenarios with Lucifer, Alastor, and Vox!

SOFT MOMENT OF NON SEXUAL INTIMACY?! IN THIS HOUSE?! Yes, please!

It's implied romantic but could be queer platonic or a queer/nontraditional couple.

Lucifer

This man wants snuggles. Any way he can get them any time, he isn't required to not be physically attached to you. He really struggles with derealization/depersonalization. His depression gets bad, he isolates, and time has pretty much lost meaning to him after being around so long, so he just kinda, wastes away into sadness. It's how he and Charlie fell apart the first time, and he really doesn't want it to happen again.

Having you around to just talk to, hold hands with, sit on your lap, or you in his, it helps. It's like a reminder that he's still alive and someone wants to be around him. Someone wants to spend time with him. That you care. It also motivates him to stay in contact with Charlie instead of convincing himself she's better without him.

He still loves Lillith, regrets they aren't together, but he doesn't blame her for leaving. He's more upset with how it affects Charlie. So he makes extra effort to spend time with you, to acknowledge how important you are to him. He's so paranoid about ruining this relationship. This man has centuries of being told everything is his fault, everything wrong with the world, and is forced to face that supposed truth every day he rules Hell.

His favorite thing is just pulling you on top of him like a weighted blanket, wrapping his wings around the both of you, and laying in a dark, warm, cocoon. He'll take deep breaths, pet your hair, and just let himself finally relax. The first few times you'd stayed quiet, assuming that's what he wanted, but it just makes it easier for him to disassociate.

Now you talk to him, softly, about your day, ask about his. You slowly get him to open up about his favorite things, good memories he has of Lillith, baby Charlie, the sins, times before the Fall. It's a long process to get him to talk about it. Please be patient and gentle with him. He likes when you play with his fingers while he talks, just holding his hand and twisting and turning it, moving his rings around, just don't touch his wedding ring please, maybe you even manage to do his nails in this position.

His second favorite is when you help preen his feathers, gently massaging his wing joints, polishing each feather with the oil from his glands, using your thumbs to work out knots in the muscles around the base. It always turns into a full back massage that leaves him purring, making happy sighing sounds and little moans. He usually falls asleep like this. Don't worry though, once he wakes up, he's definitely returning the favor. He does head massages too! He prepares a little personal spa day for you.

He isn't really looking for anything more intimate when he's in one of sadder moods and is cuddling with you to feel better, he wouldn’t turn it down, he's too afraid you'd be upset, but he really just wants to be held or to hold someone. It's the little things that really make you special to him, and he cherishes every second you guys are together.

Alastor

We all know Alastor isn't a fan of being touched unless he initiates it. There are very few exceptions to this, so you have to be pretty close to him to even get the option to cuddle him.

You'll have to start slow, like holding his hand. A lot of people think he's the type to not want to do too much PDA, but like, look at how he is with Rosie and Mimzy in front of everyone. He doesn't care. Not for small things like hand holding. This eventually leads to him putting his arm around your waist as you're walking together, or around your shoulders if you're sitting next to each other so you can lean on his shoulder.

Now more intimate gestures, like cheek kisses, forehead kisses, petting his ears, those are private. He will resist at first, preferring to lavish you with attention, but be stubborn, match his energy, especially the witty banter, and eventually you'll wear him down.

It's canon that Alastor's hardly ever sleeps, so I imagine if you're a motherly type, (regardless of gender), or someone he genuinely trusts (because its not about if he's safe. He's the Radio Demon, very few sinners are a threat to him, so being a little vulnerable with you is safe no matter the level of trust) he's going to pass out.

You're in his room (or yours, but he prefers his) and he agreed to let you pet his ears. You settle on the bed, his head on your chest or lap, and he closes his eyes, soft jazz music playing from some unseen source, and maybe you're watching something on your phone, (he allows it only if it's something he can enjoy as well, but he usually winds up listening more than watching because screens hurt his eyes after awhile) more likely you're listening to a podcast, Alastor likes listening to true crime with you.

Your fingers gently run through his hair at first. You tease him about the bob sometimes, but understand that he's prone to pulling his hair out otherwise. Eventually you notice the music has stopped and Alastor's fast asleep, the smile on his face is so small it nearly doesn't exist, and his breathing is slow and even. His ears twitch when you stop petting them, and he stirs a bit, so you quickly resume playing with them and he falls back asleep.

(His tail is sensitive too, if you ever wanna fluster him, just run a finger down his spine to that cute little tail and give it a gentle tug.)

Alastor is also prone to play biting, so if you're an excited nibbler who gives noms, expect your cuddles to end up with a few bite marks.

Vox

It's really hard for him to sit still long, so if he's working late and you want to spend time with him, just crawl yourself into his lap and get comfy. He'll grumble and complain about the distraction, but it's all for show. He'll put his arm around your waist and trace your hipbones with his thumb, or play with your hair, run his fingers up and down your back, just small fidgety things.

He understands his head is inconvenient for snuggles, and he may not be the most comfortable. (I headcanon his body is built like the Detroit Become Human bots, with like silicone padding to appear/feel like skin, but it's hard plastic and metal and wires underneath with biomechanical parts inside.)

He is warm, though, and has the constant hum of his internal fans and electricity, so he's great for sensory snuggles. He's great for when you're sore or have migraines (surprisingly, but he can turn his brightness down at will). He likes to do more traditional forms of PDA.

He walks with his hand on your lower back. (He and Alastor both absolutely do the subconscious walk with their partners on the inside and them closest to the streets or alleyways. Lucifer would, but he probably isn't even aware it's a thing.)

You're cooking/baking/doing anything with your back to him, he puts his hands on your waist and leans against you. He's 7ft tall so he probably won't lean his entire body on you, but enough to feel close to you.

His favorite snuggles are disgustingly domestic. Like, his all time favorite, is when you're both sitting together on a couch, enjoying a movie or show, or maybe you're reading or on your phone or gaming, and he's working, just anytime you're occupying the couch together and existing, he'll pull your feet into his lap and massage them.

It's not like, a fetish thing, he just thinks it's sweet. A nice gesture to show how much he appreciates what you do, how hard you work. He'll massage your ankles and calfs too. He's also prone to trying to play with your hair and massage your scalp when you're laying on his chest at night, but his claws get tangled easily. Settles for rubbing your shoulders/back.

He likes when you rub his back and neck too. The man spends way too much time hunched over his desk at work. His back aches from doing the gremlin hunch over his desk to standing ramrod straight in front of cameras, sitting properly and confidently, stiff as a fucking board. You once teased him about how he could just use one of his cardboard cutouts as a stand-in, and no one would know.

Other times, he likes to lay on you. The first few times he sprawled across your lap seeking affection and reassurance for his fragile ego, you'd been so nervous to crack his screen. But now you're more used to it and will even playfully try and poke it/tap it. Between you and Valentino, Vox has had to rule out ever getting a touch screen for a head, because neither of you will stop fucking with it. It does make him laugh, though, adorable little giggles he'd rather die than let the general public hear. It usually turns into a playful wrestling match and aggressive cuddles with a side of petty static electricity from Vox.

[i23kazu]

♡ TO BE LOVED BY

characters. albedo zhongli diluc alhaitham x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff + hurt/comfort. 1.6k words. an. part 1 , part 2 coming soon!!!! | to be loved by genshin men who appreciate art forms – where their favourite piece of art is you. ; reader is insecure + has low self esteem, and the men help them think otherwise. | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

the painter

to be loved by albedo, the painter — people realise that the faces that he paints every day seem to resemble one person and one person alone. the high cheekbones, the crooked smile, the monolids — its either the artist has a case of the same face syndrome, or there is only one source of inspiration for him . . .

albedo sits by his artistry room, the window tinting golden light that shines onto your features. it highlights parts of you that you dislike, you argue, but he tenderly kisses each spot that brings you distaste. if you cannot love yourself, then let him love you extra. if you cannot see yourself the way he looks at you – with all the love and admiration and sweet infatuation in the world – then let him paint you in the way he so lovingly sees you so.

he motions for you to tilt to your left with a flick of his finger, not looking up from the blended paints on his wooden palette. you freeze – you don’t want to make him unhappy by not complying but complying also means seeing the ugliness of you. you don’t want him to see you ugly.

“i don’t like that side of me,” you whisper blankly. “it doesn’t make me look good.”

it is at these few words that albedo looks up from his painting.

“you are beautiful.”

he says the three words so matter-of-factly that you wonder if he even means it at all. they are so quick to fall out of his mouth – does he love you too little to properly regard them so, or does he love you so much that it requires no hesitation on his end to reassure you?

“albedo, thank you, but i am not-”

“you are so beautiful, my love,” albedo repeats. “and it pains me so because you don’t seem to believe it for yourself.”

“i am not-” you blink back salty tears.

“do my words hold no weight to you?” he asks, not unkindly. there’s an awkward stare that the both of you share before he lets a soft sigh part his lips, and he gathers you in his arms.

you look at him tiredly. this was not the battle you wanted to fight today, you think to yourself.

“i am beautiful.” you repeat after him. maybe, just maybe – if you say it enough, you can believe it just as wholeheartedly as albedo believes so. you can see the corners of his lips turn upwards into a soft smile – your lover smooths back your hair, planting a sweet kiss in the middle of your forehead.

“i love you, my muse. it’s alright if you don’t believe it just yet. you’ll have me to remind you that you are beautiful, every day.”

the poet

to be loved by zhongli, the poet — the words he spins materialises out of his infatuation for you. at first glance, the words seem so bombastic – so huge, so big, that they don’t make any sense. but they are beautiful; his words are so sweet and lovely, endless love poems addressed to the one person he has fallen harder and harder for every single day. you.

“are you sure that’s a real word?” you laugh lightly, peering over his shoulder to glance at the newest word on his yellowed paper. eudaimonia, you read curiously.

“my dear, i would assume so,” he replies, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “i believe it means for a person to be of a flourishing, happy state. the thesaurus that tartaglia had obtained for me says so, but if you think otherwise, we can most certainly track down the author to contest that.”

“i trust the author.” you giggle.

“as do i.” zhongli presses a kiss to your forehead, and turns back to his pen.

you watch as he strings together sentences – sentences so lovely, you could never have ever imagined them to be about you. he describes the slight smile on your face when you reread one of your favourite books, or the fact that your laugh has two sounds – one like the tinkling of wind chimes, the other a boisterous, unbridled roar. his pen greets the paper once again, and you hear the gentle scratching of the tip against the sheet.

you are the reason i am able to rest at home with eudaimonia – my pillar, my rock, my lifeline.

“that’s beautiful. your writing is lovely as always.” you whisper, wrapping your arms tenderly around him from behind. he leans into the warmth of your touch, sweetly, lovingly, falling into your embrace.

“well, my dear – it would only make sense for my words to reflect the most pleasing of things to me.”

the photographer

to be loved by diluc, the photographer — you are his model, day and night. he carries his camera when he can, and needless to say . . . more than three quarters of his camera roll is filled with pictures of you. they’re not perfect pictures, but they’re beautiful to him. and that is the only thing he cares about.

”diluc, don’t! i don’t look nice here.” you giggle as he, in a rare bout of unbridled playfulness, pretends to be your personal paparazzi.

“you look good in every photo, my love.” he chuckles, and runs you through the most recent photos he took.

it’s blurry. your cheeks look huge. your chin… “you look good” – was diluc blind, or lying?

you tighten your smile and turn back to your work, waving away thoughts that turn into jealous green monsters over others who would look good in his camera, no matter how imperfect their pose was.

“hey,” diluc sees the frown on your face. “i mean it. you look wonderful.”

“how?” you blink back frustrated tears.

“diluc, open your eyes. my eyes are uneven in this one. my cheeks look like a chipmunk’s. my chin.. i don’t even want to think about my chin. i don’t look good at all, diluc.”

he stays quiet for a moment, and you wonder if that was the right thing to say at all. maybe just keep quiet next time, (y/n). don’t insult his work – your insecurities are yours to hold alone, right? he tucks your hair away from your eyes and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“i urge you – look again, (y/n).”

“you didn’t edit anything, diluc.”

diluc thumbs away a stray tear as he cups your face – a betrayal to your plea to your body to keep quiet. just keep quiet, (y/n). your lover takes your shoulders and sits you down gently, kneeling next to you, camera in hand.

“you don’t look good, you say? interesting.” diluc has a placid smile on his face as he runs through his camera roll again – you are afraid of angering him, of doubting his craft – but how can you see those pictures and be immediately satisfied with what they are?

“why don’t you believe me? i’m the one who sees it.” you reply indignantly.

“i don’t believe so, not at all. you see it, but i see that you are smiling in each and every one of them, my love. you are happy and you are beautiful, my sun. undoubtedly so – for that is what the camera captures. is that not what matters the most?”

the writer

to be loved by alhaitham, the writer — people often wonder who sparks these passionate feelings of infatuation in his writing; all they need to look at is the person he leaves his gaze to linger on for a little while longer. his smile seems to brighten a little when he’s talking with you . . .

he describes a love scene so tenderly. a man and his partner, dancing in the stillness of a living room in the witching hours of the night – sweet, loving words fall clumsily out of the man’s mouth – it’s obvious he’s infatuated with his partner. two words, my angel, stands out in the manuscript you read.

“hayi, why do you never call me your angel? ever?” you ask, a slight pout on your face.

“because you are not a metaphor for me to use,” he counters, not unkindly. “you are not someone who i want to compare a mere object to.”

you see the slight disappointment in his face, and you hate yourself for it.

“maybe being compared to something would be better.” you reply softly.

“you are so much more than that,” he cradles your face in his palm, so gently it hurts.

you don’t deserve this gentleness, do you?

“who am i to take that away from you?”

the silence that follows seems louder than anything else you have ever heard. he sighs softly, not with frustration, but with a tenderness that only alhaitham can muster. he gathers you in his arms – he is so, so much bigger and taller than you – he never wants to crush you. never with his anger, nor his fear, or his hurt or his sadness.

“i’m sorry for always asking that. i don’t want to be annoying.” you murmur, blinking away tears.

“you will never be annoying to me, (y/n).” he exhales.

another quiet moment is shared between the two of you – it’s healing. the silence seems to nod to a shared understanding of a love that need not be said.

“i love you, (y/n), most magnificently so. and if it would take a lifetime for you to remember that, i would like to ask for a chance to spend that lifetime with you,” he whispers these words with a quiet fierceness, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder.

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just for this post: @dailypenpen

reblogs w/ tags & comments are highly appreciated !!! <3 every reblog with a tag or comment gets a cookie from me hehe

[loveless-arobee]

Non-loveless arospec ppl stop assuming posts by loveless people talking about love only mean romantic love.

When I say love, I mean love! All of it!

I look at any post by loveless ppl that says anything about their feelings about love or something and the notes are full of people acting like it's of course only about romantic love, because what else could it be about? Because of course everyone experiences platonic love, because it's actually platonic love that is required to be happy and a good and moral person, of course you can live without romantic love, but who could ever not experience platonic love?! Don't be ridiculous! /s

Stop it. Get rid of the idea that any emotion is morally pure and necessary to experiencing happiness or any other positive emotion. Holy fuck.

You need to detach the idea that love, all forms of love, have anything to do with morality and happiness. Love isn't the only type of emotion. And it's not an inherently "positive" one, because no emotion is inherently morally good and "pure" or positive. This doesn't just apply to romantic love.

[a-cure-for-hysteria]

Crowley attracts neurodivergents because he smells like us.

(Expanding on my previous rant about how we see ourselves in him). No, not saying he's autistic coded or anything like that, just that - and you probably don't struggle to see where this is going - he kinda portrays several very common autistic experiences. 1: First, he's a naïve 'kid', clearly with a special interest (machines and building things), something he's very skilled at. He assumes he's allowed to ask questions about Creation, not trying to hide his frustration when he doesn't understand why things are the way they are. He does not mask. 2: Then, he's cast out of Heaven with the rest of the angels who asked questions, after them having waged a war on Heaven (?). He fights for good, he wants justice no matter what. 3: After the Fall, his naïvety is gone, replaced by bitterness and cynicism - but even on the walls of Eden, he's still nice to someone who presumably never hurt him. 4: We see him turning into a snake at will in Eden. He slithers around, tempting Eve, pulls strings - still, for justice. He has started masking, and does it well, but believes he does it for good. 5: Throughout history, he mostly spends his time alone or in situations that don't offer connection with others, completing tasks for Hell, gradually losing his sense of self. He still cares, he still want's to be a good person, but he doesn't know what "good" is. Everyone's a hypocrite, and he feels all alone. All he has is his sense of justice, and he comes to believe that he can only trust himself. 6: Aziraphale, arguably also portraying several common autistic experiences, is the only person who understands Crowley. Possibly because he has a different trauma to that of Crowley's, but definitely still a trauma caused by Heaven. Aziraphale knows WHY one masks in Heaven, something Crowley learns too late. 7: Crowley wants to isolate from the world, is angry, traumatized and wants nothing to do with Heaven or Hell. At some point, this requires him opening up just a little to that other weirdo he keeps running into, and they form a partnership - initially only because of common interests. I might be reaching here, but a lot of autistic people have "common interest acquaintances" morph into friendships, they often can't be friends with just anyone. They need a good reason to. And Crowley and Aziraphale's shared desire to do as little as possible (and later, save the world) is such a common interest. 8: Via engaging through their common interest, Crowley opens up more and more. Again, we see the naivety we witnessed earlier (In The Beginning, S2E1) - that happy kid who just enjoyed seeing his machinations take form. For him to dare a romantic relationship with Aziraphale, it is essential for Crowley to (at least begin to) heal the trauma caused by Heaven. Him allowing himself to experience pure, naïve excitement is a prerequisite for love, I think. Without this change, he will be on his toes at all times, never letting his guard down. 9: He finally reaches a point where he forces himself open, out of desperation. It wasn't done right - it was done with fear and anger, but he was vulnerable enough, and finally naïve enough to try. This was immediately punished by Aziraphale, who abandoned him (not necessarily what happened, but definitely what Crowley feels). 10: And so, Crowley might retreat back into his hard, cynical shell, having lost the only person who gets him. Better just self-medicate, with alcohol and whatever else not shown on screen that I can promise you Crowley does. It's the "autistic, care-free kid to bitter, cynical, functional addict/goth-adult"-pipeline.

[nikethestatue]

Hello there!

A bit new to fandom and I do apologize in advance if this has already been addressed in a previous post but what are your thoughts on when Elucien fans say that both Lucien and Elain are very similar? Personally, I think Elain and Azriel are more similar but my bigger issue with this is that it does not matter how similar two people are. If they aren’t into each other romantically, you should take it at face value versus trying to force them together. It’s a bit frustrating to see this so often-their personalities match, they are mates, she needs to give him a chance because he is a good male who deserves happiness, etc. I truly do not understand this fandom, tbh.

Thanks in advance for your much appreciated insight.

Hi Anon,

I think the mistake in this whole 'these two characters are similar' discussions is that it's not the similarity that's important, it's compatibility.

You don't have to be similar to be happy and to have a great relationship (one of the big problems with dating apps I think is that it's doing exactly that--looking for similarities between people, assuming that if both like sports and sushi, they'll make a great match), but you have to be compatible.

Yeah, on the surface, Elain and Lucien might have some commonalities--kind of the ignored and forgotten children in their families. Both at ease in social situations. Both polite and gracious (most of the time). But the funny thing is, exactly the same thing could be said about Elain and Azriel. In fact, the same WAS said about them--Elain and Azriel, the only polite ones. Azriel, graceful as any courtier. "Rhys could make Azriel a Prince of Velaris...' "No, Elain was his princess'.

But that's not the most important thing, even though of course SJM put all of it in the books for a reason. Note how Feyre never said that Elain would cling to Lucien...

But I think the important thing to remember is that compatibility isn't based on mutual likeness. Cassian and Nesta have NO similarities, but they are compatible. Lorcan and Elide have even fewer similarities, but they are drawn to each other and are compatible.

Lucien was in love with Jesminda. Thought even that they might be mates --they were very different in many ways, but obviously he found her vivacious nature very appealing.

At the same time, Azriel, for example, seemed to have loved Mor, but they are incredibly incompatible. Whether it's when she had to MAKE him, BEG him, CAJOLE him into things, or her being part of the group that gives him headaches, or them just being completely different temperament-wise and having almost nothing to say to each other, despite both being warriors, both being in the IC, having knowing each other for literal ages, etc. It interesting that it translates to friendships as well--Rhys and Azriel seemed to be fairly similar in many ways, yet they are not compatible. Azriel loves him as a brother, but I don't get the sense that they just adore each other. Whereas Cassian, who seems to be very different from Azriel has a much, much closer relationship to him, and Rhys as well.

It's a fallacy which is pretty popular in this fandom --they are so similar, they must be a romantic pairing! Look, Gwyn and Az are both Carynthians! They are so similar. Whereas Azriel kept thinking to himself how he can escape the interaction with her. Whereas with Elain, who certainly isn't a Carynthian, he could sit for hours, listening to her garden plans.

I think all we need to know is that Elriel have a mutual understanding that doesn't even require words. That's a high level of emotional connection. Pretty much the highest--to be able to understand the other person just by sensing subtle changes in them. And Elriel already have that.

[anime-moreanime-animeagain]

Good news! I can breath again. For the last week I have been absolutely devastated. After reading AoaB 4.8 I was physically ill I got so upset. But then I couldn’t really calm down cause I needed to know what happened to Ferdinand. So I may have….gotten zero sleep and spent every waking hour I wasn’t required to do life things like working and driving, reading nonstop through 10 books straight.

However! I am now on 5.9 and I feel like I can finally breathe and focus and do other things like clean and cook actually food, and make posts for other obsessors to relate to.

All kinds of SPOILERS are ahead for 4.8 - 5.9

There were things that made me less angry with the situation before this stopping point. Moments where I thought “okay…I’m not crazy sad/mad anymore.” Those moments are:

Rozemyne’s declaration that Ferdinand is family and of course she didn’t want to be Zent that’s so troublesome, but of obviously she’d do what she needed to do to save him like duh! And Ferdinand being like I’m sorry what? You think of me as family??? 🥺😭 😭

Please hug him more I cannot! This poor man doesn’t understand any type of love and it makes me SAD! But not going to lie I live for the type of devotion she was showing him. Like yeeeeessss!! Loyalty! Whether it’s romantic or platonic it is fantastic! That’s the personality characteristic I find swoon worthy.

But then there was the interduchy tournament and y’all….THE INTERDUCHY TOURNAMENT! Pretty sure I melted into a disgusting puddle of goo when he gave her the first true “very good” with fond headpat included. I just melted into the couch because okay. Okay. That makes up for a LOT of the grief I was put through. Like a ton. Like at that point I wasn’t even really mad or angry anymore. Not if we were getting THESE interactions in the interim.

And then the bench surprise! I’m not ashamed I definitely cried when he sat down on it and it was soft and he didn’t really say it but everything in his reactions screamed that he loved it and I thought how he’d probably never had anyone go out of their way for him just to make him comfortable and that was beautifully sad so of course crying was done. It felt a little silly to get SO emotional over that but I mean….he likes the bench so much and hadn’t brought it (I assume) cause he thought it would be taken from him like every other good thing in his life and how is that not something to burst into tears over. So yea. Good stuff.

And then things jumped forward again and we got near adult Rozemyne who is so pretty which thank God finally! But then Ferdinand nearly ‘climbed the towering staircase’ and my anxiety shot back up and then there was a whole war and honestly who ends a book in the middle of the battle! I feel sorry for everyone who had to wait and wait for the next volume my goodness.

But it’s okay because we had the mana hall reunion. YA’LL!!! The Mana Hall Reunion!!!! Cue the Aladdin free falling off the balcony onto carpet and taken up into the clouds because ya girl was on cloud 9 that entire scene. It was grand! Supreme! Perfect in every way! Look at this!

Pretty sure I thought this was some amazing fanart when I first saw this and I refused to read the text because spoilers but it’s not fanart it’s canon and I’m just beyond happy that it’s in color too!!! His little ‘when you said you’d defy everyone and everything I didn’t think you meant it’ and her little ‘well it’s your fault you don’t listen when I tell you how much you mean to me sooo your bad’. It’s… it’s everything I wanted. Absolutely everything!

Don’t get me started on their little talk in the gate about how to make their dreams come true together. At this point I’m actively squeeling every other moment I think about it.

I’m a little drained from speeding through 10 books in 8 days but this is fantastic why wasn’t there more to the anime? We were robbed I tell you! ROBBED! Anyway now in the middle of reading 5.9 and I can see I’m going to get super annoyed with people trying to distance my two unhinged shumils. And we still have the loose ends with the sovereignty and Detlinde to fix so I know I need to buckle up but like damn… can my two just chill and get a break?! Can she please finally meet her brother? Can Ferdinand please enjoy being valued without people telling her to stop?

Guess we will see. I should stop…. put on all the breaks until the final volume is out and translated…. yea sure, that’s what I’ll do….

[gabessquishytum]

Hey, Gabe. I’m so happy you're doing better and taking time for yourself.

I've had this thought percolating in the back of my brain for a little while, for Dream and Hob, and their darling wives, Calliope and Eleanor to have a lovely poly/qpr style thing happening, because, as much as I love all the romantic, sexy, and unhinged shenanigans on here, I would like to see something similar to my own situation floating about.

Dream and Hob have been attached at the hip since childhood, when Hob punched another kid for trying to kick them out of the sand pit. They love each other fiercely and have been through all the ups and downs of adolescence: the conflict of who they were as individuals, the struggle to stay together in a world that told them they were too close, exploring sexual identities, mapping out their dreams of the future, and last, but not least, figuring out how to share with a dating partner.

It's surprisingly difficult to find someone that doesn't assume you're cheating on them with your best friend when you're so close. If they trust sex isn't happening, they tend to get angry about the casual intimacy. Feeling blocked by or jealous of the already established bond.

At one point, Dream and Hob's friends told them they were so close they should try dating each other. So they did. Sadly, it wasn't meant to be. The sex was fun and engaging. They learned a lot about themselves, explored kinks and the kink community. There wasn't another person's feelings they had to navigate, but beyond the lust there was no spark of romance, no passionate love, no mystery. There was comfort, devotion, and the soft, mellow love of their friendship.

They amicably broke up with a new, physical dimension to their friendship that only made dating harder in the end. Still, they persisted.

Eventually, Hob met a wonderful, dark-haired woman named Eleanor. She was fiery and beautiful, willing to barge into Dream and Hob's life and demand they make room for her. She was a raging river, filling in the ravines and creating estuaries where Dream and Hob had long ago learned they didn't meet. She was new life and new paths, and Hob fell hard and fast.

There’s a certain point, early on, in a relationship where you have to explain the complex dynamic between you and your best friend. It's the breaking point for many people. It's hard, to share, to be unintentionally excluded, to learn secrets from a third party, but the people that stand their ground and thrive are breathtaking.

Eleanor, when she is told, demands space. She does research, talks to people in similar situations, takes the time to suss out her own feelings, tries to feel out the edges of compromise and expectation she requires. In the end, she flows back into their lives with a willingness to try and an adventurous gleam in her eye.

She proposes a new dynamic between the three of them. She wishes to pursue a romantic relationship with Hob, but wants to learn how comfortable she can be with Dream in the bedroom.

Hob's quick to assure her that he and Dream don't have physical relations when dating.

Eleanor, brave woman that she is, tries to explain why she thinks that's part of the problem they have with dating. They're so entwined in each other's life that removing them from one area only causes more stress. “You're practically married already,” she snorts. “You just need to find people who can live with that. I’m willing to try. Are you?”

It takes work and patience, respect and communication. They still hurt each other. Life gets in the way. People judge them and cause problems. They make it, in the end, to a place where they are content and no one is left out. Eleanor and Hob are happily married. Dream has a special place in their hearts and marriage bed whenever he needs or wants.

Years pass, Dream has proof now, that he can have romance and his best friend. That he doesn't have to sacrifice a portion of his heart for love. He has taken lovers, tried to bring them into the dance that is his relationship with Hob and Eleanor. Reluctance, timidity, and selfishness ended those relationships. At some point, Dream starts to give up, maybe Eleanor was special, a miracle.

This is, of course, when someone new enters the scene.

Calliope, stunning and witty, drifts on the edge of their existence, darting forward and back to a tune only she can hear. She flirts, flutters, and flees. She's looking for something and she won't be caught until she wishes it.

Dream watches her from the corner of his eye, intrigued and wary. He watches, in the hopes of learning what he can before approaching. He knows what to look for now, those early signs that will tell him if she wouldn't be a good fit. He isn't nearly as subtle as he wishes.

It doesn't take long for to Calliope notice. She glides closer, flitting back when others pursue.

There are clues to be found in who she lets close, and why. The outline of what she wants takes shape as partner after partner fails to meet certain criteria.

They start to circle each other at parties, a corkscrew winding tighter and tighter. He waits with hard learned patience. She slowly grows bolder.

Eleanor and Hob poke gentle fun at him, waiting on the sidelines, wishing him well. No matter how it ends, he'll always have them.

When Dream and Calliope finally crash together it's quiet, a gentle brush of fingers, a soft touch at the hip or arm. There are walks and dinners and music. They go to theaters and museums and libraries. She slots into Dream's life seamlessly, confidently.

There are the typical growing pains of partnerships and cohabitation, discovering how to be part of a couple separate from Hob and Eleanor, and learning where the four of them line-up and interlock.

People outside the relationship try to cause problems at times. They look at Dream and Eleanor or Calliope and Hob and notice how visually similar they are and accusations of cheating fly around. Sometimes someone close-minded will notice their closeness and try to enforce ridiculous religious views. Those that are covetous and jealous try to tear them apart.

They've worked too hard to let such things tear them apart.

Dream looks up one day to realize he’s curled against Hob's chest, in love and happy. Eleanor and Calliope are plotting something a few feet away, smiling. The future is unfolding before him, full of laughter and affection, understanding and belonging. The long journey and heartache was worth it.

—🏵

This is such a delightful and loving depiction of a beautiful poly/qpr relationship! I particularly love the way that Dream and Hob manage to work out their situation in the way you've described. Because not all friendships are meant to develop into romantic relationships, and platonic love certainly isn't worth less than romantic love. I genuinely enjoy the idea of them trying out romantic dating for a week and mutually deciding that it just isn't meant to be! The way they express love (romantically) is so different - Dream is all wild grand gestures and extremes, and Hob just. Isn't about that life. It just isn't going to work, and that's absolutely okay because the sex is still wonderful, and they're still best friends. They still want to grow old together, doing kinky things occasionally. They've both kind of accepted that they're lucky to have each other, and wanting more is probably a bit greedy.

But it's okay to be greedy.

With Eleanor and Calliope, life is never dull. In the large house where the four of them live, there is always music. Always laughter too, unless somebody is upset - then the other three will descend on them, and do everything they can to make it better. There is always a queue for the bathroom (even though they have more than one bathroom, all four of them tend to gravitate together into one space - you'll find Hob trying to shave while Calliope does her makeup and Dream tries to shower and Eleanor sits on the loo singing along to the radio). Somebody is always available for a cuddle (it's usually Dream who wants a cuddle, or some kind of physical touch, and it's great because he never has to worry about being too much. there are three people to take the load). Sex is just... easy. Even if somebody doesn't want to participate, they're always welcome to watch.

Hob loves silly jokes, loves it when Eleanor says "this is my husband Robert, and this is my husband's boyfriend, Dream". But he also secretly loves arguing with people who are rude about their relationship. He loves it even more when he's able to throw a punch. Dream and Eleanor might try to hold him back, but he can always rely on Calliope to join him for a scrap. She's taught him some wonderful Greek insults.

And life is basically very good. Turns out that more partners DOES equal more happiness, as Hob loves to say. Dream will never admit it but Hob is generally absolutely right.

[hardly-an-escape]

In the February Sun

Square: D2 - Mistaken for a Couple Rating: T Word Count: 2671 Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling Warnings: No archive warnings apply Additional Tags: Dreamling Bingo fill, Valentine’s Day, mistaken for a couple, Dream is soft and a little bit needy, Dream is allowed to be kind of obsessed with Hob as a treat, first kiss, getting together, tooth rotting fluff, this took forever partly because Dream’s POV is (unsurprisingly) ding dang hard to write, the feelings are requited they’re just idiots, they’re sort of starring in their own weird romance novel Summary: Dream visits the Waking World, not realizing that it's Valentine's Day. After multiple people assume he and Hob are a couple, an emotional reckoning is required. Read on AO3 | fill for @dreamlingbingo

Of late he finds his own gaze lingering on Hob’s shoulders. His hands. Dream’s thoughts have turned, in his few idle hours, to the timbre of Hob’s voice and the smile lines around his eyes. He has allowed himself. To imagine Hob’s fingers, interlaced with his own. How that smile might feel, were it to be employed against his skin. How Hob’s skin might feel. He should, perhaps, feel embarrassed by these flights of fancy. Instead he is only exhilarated.

---

Dream steps into the Waking World on what he thinks is a random sunny Tuesday and is immediately bumped into by a starry-eyed young man clutching an enormous bouquet of flowers.

“Oh gosh, sorry! I was so not looking where I was going,” he laughs. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Ah. Valentine’s Day. Dream looks around, notes the shiny hearts in the shop windows and the unusual number of roses and boxes of chocolate being carried around. He dips into the dreams of the people around him: candlelit dinners and first kisses. Well-worn lovers and the thrill of new romance. Sex and wine and sweetness and love.

The emotion is. Tantalizing. Heady. Almost overwhelming.

Dream walks slowly along the river toward the New Inn, savoring the sunshine and the wisps of romantic daydreams. He had intended to drop in on Hob this afternoon, as he does more frequently these days. Had intended to savor a few hours’ worth of his company and his warm, welcoming smile. But now he is unsure.

Hob feels… complicated. He’s known for some time that Hob finds him attractive. But of late he finds his own gaze lingering on Hob’s shoulders. His hands. Dream’s thoughts have turned, in his few idle hours, to the timbre of Hob’s voice and the smile lines around his eyes. He has allowed himself. To imagine Hob’s fingers, interlaced with his own. How that smile might feel, were it to be employed against his skin. How Hob’s skin might feel. He should, perhaps, feel embarrassed by these flights of fancy.

Instead he is only exhilarated.

Dream can recognize these symptoms in himself, and they worry and thrill him in equal measure. He has been able to hold himself in check, but in the Waking World, on this day of all days, the tendrils of desire and daydreams are winding around the walls of his willpower and bringing it down, brick by brick. His eyes catch on a couple kissing over a sidewalk café table and he feels something inside him catch as well.

Perhaps. It was a mistake to come here. On this day, of all days.

But too late. His steps have brought him to the courtyard of the New Inn. And there is Hob, emerging from the side door marked ‘private,’ which Dream knows from experience leads up to his cozy little flat. And Hob has seen him, is waving and smiling in a way that crinkles the lines around his eyes. Dream’s heart flips over in his chest.

Oh dear.

“Hello, my friend!” Hob is saying. “This is an unexpected surprise. I just finished up my morning classes. I was about to go get a bite to eat, if you want to come with me.”

“If you have no prior engagements,” says Dream.

“Not at all!”

They walk together in the February sun. They talk, of everything and of nothing. This, Dream has learned, is what friends do: they chat about books and television, share little stories from their days. Hob tells him about his students’ shenanigans during a particularly amusing lecture on the Black Death, and Dream tells him about some of Matthew’s recent misadventures.

“No!”

“Yes.”

“I would not have thought ravens could get drunk. That’s hysterical.”

Hob’s laughter is a balm, a ray of sunshine, a jolt of caffeine.

They are nearing the café Hob has been steering them toward when a young woman walking in the opposite direction greets him by name.

“Professor Gadling, hi!”

“Hello, Britt, how’s it going?”

“Oh! Well, I actually had a quick question about the homework – sorry, you’re probably on a date, I was going to send an email but would you mind…”

“Of course not, go ahead.”

Britt’s question about Margery Kempe is lost as Dream’s mind circles around that phrase like a cat stalking an unfortunate mouse. You’re probably on a date. Is that – could that be what people see? He and Hob, walking side by side. Talking and smiling. Not touching. But together.

Hob clarifies the reading for the next class and with a cheery “Happy Valentine’s Day, professor!” the girl continues on her way.

Dream and Hob walk for another minute before Dream finds the words to ask.

“You did not disabuse her of her notion?”

“Which notion?”

“That you and I are. On a date.”

“Oh, that,” Hob waves a dismissive hand. “Nah, there’s no point. The undergraduate rumor mill is unstoppable – better to just ignore it. If I’d denied it, it just would have convinced her that we were secretly married or something. Pack of libidinous hyenas, the lot of them.”

“I see.”

“Sorry, was that okay?” asks Hob, suddenly worried. “If it bothers you, that they might think that, I can set the record straight, or try to at least…”

“It matters not,” Dream says.

It matters a great deal, he wants to say. That people could believe it. It matters, that he wants it to be believable, wants it to be true. In a way he has not wanted for a long time.

[Read the rest on AO3...]

green = complete, orange = WIP

[mafaldaknows]

Kylie and timothe are allegedly getting married next year. Now tell me how is thios PR and how he's still getting his cherry popped by Armie Haammer. And I want a logical explaination, not some cult guru shit about believing in love and all that nonsense.

Hello, Anon:

Let’s stop for a moment and consider what the word “allegedly” means.

It seems to me that an unfortunate by-product of our social media culture is that people conflate allegations with facts, to the point that all anyone has to do these days to make something true in many people’s minds is simply to say it somewhere on the internet. It doesn’t even have to be “official”.

Allegations are not facts. Speculation is not confirmation. Hypotheses are theoretical. None of these things assumes itself as the truth, but merely introduces a starting point for further discussion or investigation in order to discover the truth about something.

So why bother to come to my inbox to ask me what I think about something that you already seem to think is true? It seems to me that you don’t need my validation. And don’t worry, Anon. I’ll spare you the cult guru shit about love.

Because what’s love got to do with it?

It takes at least two years for people to stop being on their best behavior around their romantic partners, so making a lifelong commitment to love, honor, and cherish someone in less time than that is a serious gamble, and seems highly unlikely in this case, assuming that at least one of them still has functional critical thinking skills, and isn’t in the habit of setting their life on fire without first contemplating the consequences, as most reasonable grown adults do, especially when making such a major, life-altering decision like getting married to someone they barely know.

What’s ironic to me, Anon, is that if you wanted me to agree with you, this would be a good spot to give you some cult guru shit about love. Because I believe that there are some people who know right away that they’ll love someone for the rest of their lives. But they tend not to need a team of managers and publicists, and constant, chronic, random no-one-asked-for-it-but-here-it-is-anyway press attention to prove it to everyone on the internet, in order to seal the deal. Lovers just love, no press required.

They only just allegedly met this spring. One year’s time is most likely not enough time for them to know if they’re suitable life partners for each other, if they intend to stay married, especially if they’re not even “official in private” and only “casual” at this moment in time, depending on how their insider source is feeling that day, depending on which way the wind blows, even when no one asked. It might be helpful for someone on their PR teams to keep track of what their insider source is telling the media on an hourly basis on an excel spreadsheet or something so they’re at least all on the same sheet of bullshit.

If it happens, then mazel tov to the happy couple, and let’s hope there’s a prenup, to keep things simple when if it falls apart.

As for popping a cherry, that’s a one-shot deal. Once in a lifetime. You might want to brush up on your idioms, Anon. 💥🍒💥

However T & A chose to define their connection to each other is no one’s business but their own. I’ve said this time and again. And who T sleeps with is also none of my business.

How T chooses to share his business that’s nobody’s business like nobody’s business is the larger issue, imho. The fact that T&K’s presence together has become ubiquitous in the media has now made it my business, like it or not.

Selling their relationship seems to be the point, and that’s the part I struggle with. It’s difficult to see the truth of their alleged love story when it’s so deeply embedded within such an obvious PR sales pitch. Even if they’re madly in love, that doesn’t change the fact that they’re also using each other as a means to an end. Famous people marry each other all the time without ever having to ask one to commodify themselves for the sake of elevating the other’s image.

Unlike some other relationships, however, T &A do not make it their business to make it our business to know their business, every damn day, for months on end. So I have no idea about the status of their relationship; romantic, platonic, doesn’t matter to me, Anon. But I can still be hopeful and watch for signs, with both my feet firmly rooted in reality.

Only time or Tim will tell.

Thanks for your question. ❤️🧿☺️🍒👀

[thenightfolknetwork]

Helloooooo!!! I hope you’re doing well. I’ve been listening for a while now, but I haven’t written in before.

So! I’ve done ballet for a little over ten years. I started when I was six and a half, and I’m almost seventeen now. I probably won’t dance professionally, but I love it. A lot. The culture surrounding ballet has a… history of mistreating the liminal community—I mean, aside from the obvious body-based exclusion, there’s also the horrible appropriation in the so-called “romantic” period—but luckily, the ballet school I attend is founded and run by a fellow person of the night, and it’s very accepting of all sorts of creatures. People tend to assume that I’m Sapio when they first meet me anyway, but it’s still nice to be able to talk to the mice and cockroaches and not get strange looks, y’know?

And, two years ago, I finally convinced one of my best friends to start taking ballet classes! It’s been great. We review choreography together, help each other with different skills—I’m a jumper, she’s a turner—get enlisted by the costumers to do what we like to call “grunt work” (I am an expert at sewing buttons)—we even go to the library to check out books on stuff like "the use of physical motifs in ballet" and "creature traditions in classical repertoire." It’s really, really wonderful getting to be with someone who’s as excited about the art form as I am.

That’s not my problem. My problem is that she’s… she’s better than me now. Despite starting at 14 in something where being 9 is considered old, she has incredible turnout and gorgeous lines, never gets winded, is picking up épaulement far faster than really anyone ought to be able to—I could go on like this for a while.

You see, she’s a shapeshifter. Proud of it, too. One time when we were 12 or so, our painfully Sapio history teacher very nervously asked if anyone knew what it was like to be from “a genus with so-ma-tic var-i-a-bil-i-ty”—I swear he was looking at notes on his hand—and my friend kicked her scuffed converse up on the desk, said, “No, but I can tell you what it’s like to be a shapeshifter,” and then gave herself extra teeth while smiling. That’s the kinda control she has over it.

And she has a lot of options when it comes to which shape she wants to take on any given day. Since ballet is easier for certain bodies, she, very understandably, chooses a form for class that’s naturally flexible and strong and has exactly the required musculature and is easy to balance with and that’s fine. There is absolutely nothing wrong with her being comfortable and confident in her identity, and, by extension, her body. She doesn’t rub it in, or act like she’s better than the rest of us, or anything like that.

To be clear, she is a hard worker. I don’t want to dismiss that. She writes down notes after class and helps the teachers with the really young groups and takes the lower level’s class on Tuesdays and Thursdays to work on her technique and is generally doing everything right. But so am I! I do all of those things with her, heck, I'm the one who taught her how to seek them out! And I’ve been doing this for ten years! And when you come from a genus that rarely lives past 100, ten years isn’t something to sneeze at. It’s not fair. It’s not anybody’s fault that it’s unfair, but it’s still not right! Please help. I love my friend, and I want to be happy for her, but whenever I see her do a freaking quadruple pirouette in pointe shoes and then balance (because of course, sure, why not, it’s soooo easy) before landing, I just feel furious.

Oh, reader. This sounds extremely difficult and frustrating. You've worked very hard over the last ten years, and as you rightly say, that is not something to sneeze at – especially when you take into consideration how young you were when you started.

You talk a lot towards the end of your letter about what is and isn't “fair” or “right”. I would like you to take a moment and consider the alternatives. Would it be more fair for certain genuses to be prohibited from taking part in your classes? Would it be more right that your friend should sublimate her natural abilities in order to take part?

Or perhaps you would simply not allow anyone to participate at all if they seem to be more naturally flexible, or have better balance, or a stronger core than… Well, here is the other question. What is it we're comparing to? The national average, the average ballet dancer – or simply, you?

Did you know, in the world of professional cycling, there is one trait which is most likely to affect a cyclists chances to reach the upper echelons of their chosen sport? More than height or weight, more than time spent training, more even than their genus. This trait is: being born at high altitude.

But that's not fair, you say! It isn't right, that a simple accident of one's birth should lend such an advantage. Perhaps we should set a cap on natal altitude in such competitions. And what of the second most impactful trait – the wealth of one's birth country? Do we have different leagues for rich and poor, high and low altitude?

I hope you can see how ridiculous that sounds. Life is not a mathematics equation. You can't just add time and effort and get success. There is so much luck involved – lucky births, lucky bodies, lucky brains and lucky bank accounts.

You aren't doing anything wrong by happening to have been born into a family that supports your interests. So too, your friend isn't doing anything wrong by happening to have a body that makes ballet more accessible to her. It is simply the luck of the draw.

Furthermore, 'being good at ballet' is not a finite resource. Your friend isn't taking anything from you by doing well, and her accomplishments in no way diminish your own.

These feelings of jealousy are natural and normal. But they are not healthy emotions, or helpful ones. Acknowledge them, then let them go. Concentrate instead on what you love about ballet, what you love about your friend, and in taking pride in your own achievements. You have worked hard and accomplished a great deal in your own right, and those accomplishments deserve to be celebrated in their own right – not only in comparison to someone else.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[myriadparacosm]

Black Beats Black - IV. Dentelle de la Reine Anne Part.2

Part 1. (Sorry Tumblr can't handle the size) Chapter I. - II. - III. Read on my AO3

“I could drop my pot of ink from here… it will kill him.”

Next to him, Evan leans a bit further into the window to squint down at the people crossing one of the castle’s bridges. It’s easy to spot Lupin walking with Evans and Pettigrew– just as natural for Regulus to slowly push off the edge of the window. He sits back down amongst the opened books and the brewing cauldron between them. They are in one of the highest towers to be left alone as it’s rarely used except for the hidden snogging, though with the cold no one wants to risk their tongues frozen together. Perfect for them to experiment and study in peace with no eavesdropping.

“Better use a cauldron, squish him like an insect,” he advises. “It’s difficult to piece a brain back together.”

Regulus glares at Lupin who escapes through one of the heavy doors before he can decide on the perfect murder. After reminiscing with Sirius and now that they have clarified everything that was needed - Regulus has prepared his share of the Animagus potion and even freed space in his potion’s pouch made to transport potion without shaking them. Despite Sirius and Barty’s night, Which-Must-Not-Be-Remembered, Evan is still friendly though he more than often likes to remind them that he is here if they even look at each other.

He coughs petals and grabs some to put them in their dedicated bag to use them for more experiments. Some flowers are also there and neither ever wilt.

“Do you know why Em’ is avoiding Sirius?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Emmeline hasn’t changed but she is staying away from Sirius outside from when they all hang out in the Room of Requirement. She doesn’t appear to hate him and he doubts that she has a problem helping him ever since their adventure to the Kelpie’s Dance. It’s been two weeks since that. Regulus still has the mandrake leaf in his mouth and they have managed to come up with a potion within days that should eliminate the poison and also hold the coughing for a few hours.

“She carries a torch for him.”

“What?” Regulus startles, looking up from the potion they are brewing. “Emmeline?”

“Not romantically,” Evan says, turning a page of the book, “this happened with all of us, don’t you remember?”

Whilst Regulus, Barty and Evan almost immediately hit off, which was followed by Dorcas helping them before Pandora dropped herself on their laps– Emmeline has only really been friends with them starting third year. She wasn’t alone as Slytherins tend to stay as tight groups and it’s by the clamorous lot of girls. Contrary to what most people thought, Emmeline was at the head of the group even if she appeared distanced if not absent. She watched them though but they only managed to get close when they started working on their first arithmancy project.

Emmeline kept offering Regulus to work on arithmancy together and she always seemed quite happy but it’s only when Pandora mentioned at random that maybe she has a crush on him; which would have make sense if Emmeline hasn’t started partnering with Evan during potion or gossiping with Barty and laughing at any of his joke even if at first the depraved ones surprised her. Dorcas sort of confronted her too, as she assumed that Emmeline had a crush on her because she always sat with her in the common room and complimented her works, and she gently let her down but Emmeline quickly corrected her that she has no interest. Pandora offered to kiss, just like that, but was also shot down, quite funnily from what she said but Emmeline refuses the story to be shared.

They quickly understood that Emmeline has what you might call ‘fall in friendship’. Though it’s not related to her own disinterest in love. Like for all of them, Emmeline appears intense once she is interested in someone but she only means it platonically, easily blushing only because she is happy. She is quite embarrassed about this part of her and she avoided them up until they dragged her back in their group.

“Oh. Right. I forgot that,” Regulus admits and automatically steers the potion. “Sirius?”

“Are you really surprised? Your brother is alright once he shuts his mouth.”

He rolls his eyes. “Please, don’t try to fool me. I know you two like to chit-chat about these rancid books.”

“I don’t!”

“Yes you do. Sirius is maybe a worse romantic than you but I have tried one of your books and I know you’re not that different,” he replies with a smile at his glare. “Pirates, uh?”

“Do I need to remind you that I’m the one deciding whether you two stay married?” Evan hisses with his cheeks red. “Or that the whole school would feast on that gossip if it ever got out?”

Sirius Black is already rumoured to either be a Gryffindor spy in Slytherin or a Slytherin King to be with Regulus. Better leave it aside that Evan obviously likes Sirius but only holds a grudge because Barty likes to say dumb things out loud.

“Well, I wouldn’t have thought that Emmeline would like my brother that much.” Any of his friends really. “So she is avoiding him now.”

“You know how she is,” Evan says. “She is probably trying to be discreet about it considering how Sirius might think the same as us.”

“Him and his fat ego certainly will take it that way.”

Sirius actually doesn’t make the connection. He asks Regulus if Emmeline has tons of homework or started a painting that took up most of her time since he has barely talked to her; she often finds an excuse to leave when their number diminishes. That’s the only reason why Regulus decides to talk to Emmeline. Sirius might ask her what’s wrong and who knows how that will go.

The Slytherin dorm isn’t openly hostile to them but many people look at them with a wary look. Snape or his minions haven’t tried anything on them yet but who knows how stupid they can be even at their lowest. Sirius, often if not always, lets his door appear so they have started to mingle in the Room of Requirement instead; it probably doesn’t help with their reputation.

“Are you free Em’?”

Emmeline moves her eyes away from her new painting to greet Regulus with a smile. “Of course. Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine.”

It was still an abandoned classroom up until Emmeline started her art club during fourth year. They have all helped her clean it even if it was just a small wand movement. Regulus has almost considered practising the piano or even ballet, which he has liked to do even if it’s their parents hammering them into them but they have stopped once they got to Hogwarts. The upcoming war is more important. Sirius also got these classes but preferred to draw, which is considered as a meaningless skill compared to music.

“What are you painting?”

“Just… my current inspiration.”

They are alone for now and Emmeline is the most frequent one, even getting detention because she left the club in the middle of the night. The painting is still at its early stage but Regulus can recognize a tower next to what appears to be water. The shades are for most, dark and icy, for now.

“Do you mean Sirius?”

Emmeline’s brush is squashed on the painting before she quickly withdraws it. She stares at the smudge of black before clearing her throat.

“I can salvage this later…” She trails off, putting down her tools, with red cheeks.

“He has only noticed that you are busy, perhaps avoiding him,” Regulus reassures and holds back his amused smile when she looks at him, embarrassed. He sits down on the ottoman. “You’re making a portrait of my brother?”

She nods before brushing her dark hair behind her ears. “I showed him yours and he quite liked it. And he agreed to let me paint one of him. I hope to finish it– soon.”

“It looks like a good start.”

Regulus knows the basics of arts but it has never called him more like Sirius. It’s definitely going to be pretty anyhow considering that Emmeline is the one painting; though how she pictures Sirius is still a bit of a mystery as all the colours are so far leaning toward dark.

“Is it obvious?”

“To us, yes,” Regulus admits. “Though I never thought that you would like Sirius that much.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” She mutters, rubbing her bottom lip with her teeth.

Regulus frowns, slightly surprised that she seems to feel embarrassed or for him to have a real problem with that. He isn’t jealous, to his own surprise, and if anything he is elated that all his favourite people have accepted each other further than appearance. If Emmeline actually liked Sirius then it would be sad for her considering that his brother is spoken to, to death. Regulus wishes Sirius would fall in love with someone else as wonderful as Emmeline and not a stupid jerk.

“No. Of course not,” he says. “I can actually understand how you two would get along. Sirius can act as rebellious as he wants but I know he isn’t as disattached to what we were taught. He loved the violin but only when he could play what he enjoyed so he was awful with our personal professor. I’m– I wish he didn’t throw all our childhood away but I know it was harder for him than for me.”

“Now that you two are talking, you will make many more good memories and perhaps it will help Sirius too,” she says with a small thoughtful smile. “The violin, though..? That’s interesting.”

“You wouldn’t think so, right? I don’t know if he completely forgot about it or not.” She nods but it hasn’t cleared her spirit completely so Regulus considers his next words. “Sirius isn’t the type to lie, even though he perfectly can. So I didn’t think– that everything would go as smoothly as it is now. Sirius could have been awfully difficult to deal with. With the circumstances and what happened with his friends, I doubt Sirius has the strength to play nice with anyone. If you all hated him or didn’t give him a chance, he would think he deserves it.”

“I find this unnecessarily sad,” she admits.

“But that’s exactly why I’m sure that Sirius sees you as a friend, just like you do.”

Emmeline nods and tilts her head before closing her eyes. “I feel like I’m already mourning him… I can’t imagine what you must feel,” she whispers. “I have barely gotten to know him and yet it’s so easy. I’m scared that– all of this attention will feel unwarranted to him but I also don’t want to regret him when I have barely even known him.”

Regulus swallows down and takes a deep breath before opting to ignore the heavy subject. “You do sound like you have a crush on him.”

“A friendly one,” she argues with flushed cheeks. “We have already settled on that, haven’t we? Friends! I do not-”

“I’m only teasing you,” he chuckles and she purses her lips with a menacing squint. “It’s rather cute.”

“I just hope that Sirius doesn’t assume that either. You all understood me but what if he finds it weird that I don’t… care for a lover. I do not want to bring that up considering his position.”

“He will understand it,” Regulus says without a doubt. “I’m sure that either way it will feed his ego, even if he doesn’t need it, and make him happy. He might tease a tad bit.”

Emmeline sighs. “But isn’t Marlene McKinnon his closest friend, outside of his dormmates? I’m nothing like her… Or any of his original friends. None of us are. Wouldn’t he find it weird that someone like me wants to be– close friends when only a few weeks he never knew me?”

“You do not plan to steal McKinnon’s spot or anyone else, do you? Then you shouldn’t worry about that. I still doubt that Sirius’ old friends will ever try to talk to him.”

“Didn’t you say that Potter wants to talk with Sirius?”

“He is only pestering me because he is scared that Sirius will talk about whatever secret broke their little group,” he argues. “Maybe he really is avoiding Potter but Lupin will be nearby and who knows how that will affect Sirius so it’s better to forget about him.”

“But he hasn’t told you, right?”

“No. I doubt he will.”

Emmeline sighs. “This is so unfortunately complicated.”

He watches her, offering a hand that she squeezes with a shy gaze. “Are you worried that Sirius won’t be happy that you want to be friends with him? From what I have seen, I should be jealous of how you two get lost in conversation while I’m right there.”

“Oh, Reg-”

“So I can assure you that he values you. Pandora always surprises him and he enjoys this kind of game, just like Barty who I worry might start an enormous prank with him that will close the school.” She chuckles and he smiles. “Evan was more difficult because-”

“Barty also didn’t help.”

“When has he helped willingly?” He snorts. “But thankfully they found some common ground. Even our Purebloods upbringing, being above each other and how backwards our supposed evolved society works— they talk without attacking each other and I noticed that despite the subject they are somehow giving each other hope too.”

“Every empire falls at some point,” she whispers and squeezes his hand.

He nods. “Dorcas is more similar to Sirius I suppose, they match each other and I can see that they are having fun. You were here at the Kelpie’s Dance, they were in their own little world. I guess McKinnon is also more of this type but this doesn’t mean that Sirius can’t see you as a proper friend. Salazar, Barty and him get along which doesn’t terrify me enough so please be the best of friends just so Sirius doesn’t end up in Azkaban.”

Emmeline considers it with a frown before nodding. “They would.”

“But really, you should just tell Sirius that you really like him,” Regulus says. “We are all friends with you and I doubt that he will find it weird that you have no interest in love, if you want to specify it.”

“I think so too… But it’s so strange for some people.” She purses her lips before clearing her throat. “Friends satisfy me and I don’t see why I should marry anyone. I love all of you. I made the mistake of mentioning it before and the looks they gave me.”

“Who?”

She shakes her head. “It’s alright, I dealt with it in third year. But you’re right, I should talk to Sirius.”

“He misses you.”

Emmeline blushes with a chuckle. Regulus smiles and squeezes her hand one last time. He doesn’t know how this conversation went but he is sure that it happened since Sirius commented out of nowhere that Regulus picked the right friends. He doesn’t have anything to complain about so he focuses back on his heavy old latin reading that might concern the Hanahaki. It has become a kind of ritual that Regulus sleepovers - not because of the list.

They manage to come up with one potion that should kill the Hanahaki but Sirius only got a stomach ache from it. His coughing hasn’t increased despite what happened when he hallucinated but it’s still here. Regulus isn’t sure but he feels like more petals are coming up in his throat, building up for his series of coughs. It’s relieving and a bad omen since it means that the bond is working but the Hanahaki fights back.

Only one week left before they take the Hogwarts Express for the short, yet determinant, break. His parents answered to his insignificant letter, only meant for Kreacher to get his message, only to talk about what Regulus should do and some meaningful comments about his upcoming destiny. The war might be close but he doesn't care about it - not when Sirius is right here. Once his brother is healed then perhaps he will care about this blasted mess.

It’s probably because they are this close to this dangerous jump into the future that Regulus is too distracted to shield himself from a sudden explosion. He was just about to join Sirius for dinner in the Room of Requirement when he finds himself glued to a liquid that keeps bubbling from a knight’s armour that fell to pieces.

“Hah! Got you!”

Filch rounds the corner, finding Regulus' knees deep into the sticky mixture and trying to shake it off his hands, with James Putain de Potter.

“Oh, Reg’,” he says with the fakest worry ever, “I told you to be careful with these potions.”

Regulus is going to make him his glasses the moment he gets a chance– but first he cursed him as loudly as he can before he needed to justify that he wasn’t some part of this stupid prank.

“Then what is that?” Filch asks with a mean smile, taking out a small potion from where Regulus’ bag spilled when he fell. “This looks exactly like what Mister Potter had.” Potter winks at Regulus with an impish smile. Filch doesn’t hear him despite the many complaints. Regulus has no idea how he slipped that potion in his bag, he couldn’t have thrown it or one of them would have noticed, plus with the explosion it should have been triggered. His bag is the safest option but he would have noticed Potter slipping behind him.

He gets detention with Potter - because apparently Regulus doesn’t have enough on his plate. Because the break is nearing, the detention is barely the day after so Regulus has digested nothing which leaves him in a horrible mood. With Fitch on his ass, he was sent back to the Slytherin dormitory which meant that he didn’t even see Sirius. Not that he wants his brother to hear about this especially when his friends are teasing him enough about Potter.

It’s in Care of Magical Creatures that they need to do the detention and Regulus is late on purpose even if he really likes the class and Professor Kettleburn. His parents had complained that he picked this course but Regulus enjoys it too much to drop it off. It’s cold so he hopes that whatever they have to do will be quick because this only diminishes his patience to deal with Potter.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“I will cut your tongue and feed it to a hippogriff.”

“Now what an inspiration!” Kettleburn exclaims as Regulus glares at Potter. “But this time we only need to rework the paddocks and prepare portions to feed all our magnificent friends. Mister Black, can you guide our new guest? I need to check on the unicorns.”

“Of course, Professor.”

He lists the creatures they need to check also on or will require immediate feeding before wandering off in the forest. Regulus decides to finish this list as fast as he can and then feed Potter to the hippogriffs; the head of the pack likes him, even got to pet him once, so he can indulge his favour.

“I didn’t know you liked this class,” Potter says with quick steps to follow him.

“Don’t talk to him.”

“It’s great, really,” he chirps with a small laugh. “You always surprise m-”

“Shut up,” Regulus barks, twisting on his feet to face him with a burning glare. “You bloody planned this, didn’t you? You better back off because I know a lot of creatures ready to eat you alive.”

Potter still follows him in the shed, diligently picking up what Regulus does before he walks out. “I told you that I needed to speak to you!” He points out. “You left me no choice.”

“I understand why Sirius is avoiding you now,” he huffs out, dropping the bag of cabbages for the flobberworm before throwing some in the group. “Don’t put that here! It’s for the streelers!” Potter does as he says, even if Regulus’ tone is as sharp as a whip, and somehow manages to keep his smile on. It goes like that for a moment but he has never been infamous for keeping his mouth shut.

“Look Regulus, I’m sorry that I pulled off but you really left me no choice,” Potter says, sounding almost sorry which is why Regulus dropped a large box on his foot. “Ouch! What was that for?!”

“Didn’t see you. It was in the way of the hay.”

Potter sighs but continues to follow him through all the tasks. “I tried to talk to you politely so you really left me no choice but force you in the same spot with me for a time, alright?”

“You could have left me alone instead of being your idiotic self.”

“I can’t figure out where you’re hiding with Sirius but he also doesn’t want to talk to me and I really need to.”

“Write him a letter. We need something for the fire-place.”

Regulus tries to elbow him when his arm is grabbed but Potter quickly traps him against the crups’ fence.

“Regulus, I’m trying to solve what happened with Sirius, alright?”

“Let me go.”

One of the crups is tugging on his pant’s leg. Potter stares at him, lips pursed, before straightening himself and taking a step closer. Regulus considers climbing over the fence because rolling in a sea of crups would be better than whatever is going on.

“You have no idea how happy I am that you and Sirius are talking again,” Potter says. “I wish I had been here to see that but– things were difficult. We never meant to kick him out of the dorm and we could have talked to him but… It was hard on Remus.”

“And I’m supposed to feel bad for you all?” Regulus sneers.

“No,” he replies before wetting his lips. “Well, maybe. What happened was really difficult to understand because I frankly still can’t believe it and I should have been here for Sirius too. That’s my bad.”

“Oh really? Almost made me think otherwise.”

Potter huffs out, almost laughing and his face doesn’t fully lose it as he observes Regulus. There is a smudge on his left glass that he probably could clean. If he starts considering what he can touch though there are many other options that are far more entertaining.

“I’m trying to solve what happened,” Potter whispers as his eyes drop to the ground. “We all got hurt and I didn’t try to reach out for Sirius. Which is what I’m trying to do now because we haven’t really listened to him… Marlene is going bonkers too because Sirius avoids her too. Even Remus is open to talk.”

He quickly closes his eyes and swallows these treacherous ideas. Potter is an enemy, no matter how he looks, the amount of warmth he exudes like a salamander. This is a dangerous trap. Regulus pushes him off as far as he can before shoving him so he lets go of his arm

“Like I said,” he articulates with a precarious voice. “Write a letter.”

Potter lets him storm off but shadows him quickly and even takes the bag of fresh meat from his hands. “I get it that you are on Sirius’ side Reggie-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“But everything went so fast. Remus needed time.”

“So what?!” He exclaims. “It’s not my problem what happened! And you’re right, I’m on Sirius’ side. At least I know better than to throw him away like some forgotten toy that you have no use for anymore!”

“That’s what I’m trying to solve!”

“Yes, well maybe Sirius isn’t open to that anymore,” he hisses and furiously picks up hay before stomping away.

“He can’t just stay out of the dorm!” Potter says and pursues him. “I know you haven’t slipped him in the Slytherin dorm even if with your frie-”

Regulus needs to clear his throat because his voice is muddled. “Because the problem is now me and my friends and not yours?!”

He startles, stepping back, with wide eyes behind his glasses. “Wait, that’s not what I meant-”

“Of course that’s what you meant! Sirius is choosing to be with me right now and you can’t swallow that because you think you’re better than us, the screw-ups!”

Potter almost steps back, shaking his head, with a weak retort. “That’s not-”

“That’s exactly what you think,” Regulus spits out despite the rash climbing up his throat. “You are all better in your red and gold better than us little snakes, right? This must kill you to see that Sirius is staying with us. In fact he chooses to be with me! Have you ever thought that he just doesn’t want to talk to you again? Of course not, what matters is what everyone else thinks! Lupin is hurt? Well Sirius too but apparently that’s not important.”

“I never thought that! This was hard for everyone,” Potter argues. “I even tried to tell Sirius to talk to you before! I know you’re not like Snivellus-”

Regulus coughs. He forgets about it for a moment too busy wrestling with his thoughts and emotions, picturing how far he can throw James Potter in the lake, and how his brother is dying while all they care about is some stupid secret. Except that Potter notices his cough, eyes trailing after the petals trickling down his lips, and gasps with a shock that only stains his handsome face.

“Petals?”

Regulus quickly steps back, hand flying to his mouth, but Potter follows him like a mad man. His words are swallowed by more coughs. He shakes his head and stumbles on his own feet before focusing on getting away.

“Are you coughing flowers?” Potter croaks out, voice louder at each syllable. “Wait, isn’t that– that’s the Hanahaki!”

Potter still calls him when Regulus is rushing to the castle, coughing petals. He sprints through the corridors with his heart trying to burst out of his chest - it doesn’t help the petals that he tries to swallow. His first proper breath is only when he manages to close the door of his dorm behind him.

“Reg’! Are you alright?” Emmeline asks, standing up from her game of chess with Barty.

Evan looks up from Barty’s laps, frowning and sitting up. “Didn’t you have detention?”

“A date with Potter,” Barty jokes, moving a chess piece.

“He knows.”

“Who? What?” Emmeline frowns. “Please breathe before you faint.”

“Potter!” Regulus hisses, throwing his bag down. “I coughed!”

She gasps. “He saw?”

“Yes! He even knew that it was the Hanahaki!”

“Did you try to tell him it’s not?” Evan asks. “You could have gotten that from something else.”

Regulus freezes before groaning, falling against the door. “I–”

“You ran away?” Barty supposes. “Well that’s compromising.”

“Maybe we can come up with something,” Emmeline retorts. “The after-effect of a potion or-”

“Potter is smarter than he looks,” Regulus hisses. “I should have knocked him out or obliviated him… I could still do that.”

“Is that so bad if he knows?” Barty asks. “It’s not like he knows that you are actually bonded with Sirius who has it.”

His focus has been bitingly settled on James Potter and his infuriating face which is why he completely missed out on his throat twisting around a mouthful before he starts coughing. Regulus doesn’t consider that he has the Hanahaki– Sirius does and Regulus tries to find the cure.

“Merde,” he curses and furiously shakes his bangs with his hands before glaring at the discreet golden ring. “I didn’t think of that. He doesn’t know about the bonding.”

“You don’t think of much around Potter, actually become stupid once we mention him.”

“Like you’re any better Bartemius!” Regulus snaps.

“I am,” he proudly replies, “did you see who is on my lap?”

“Alright,” Evan cuts and lets Barty kiss his cheek. “So Potter might think you have the Hanahaki. What were you talking about?”

“He was pestering me about Sirius. Even dared to complain that Sirius is with us now.”

“Hah! He is going to think you are in love with Sirius!”

Emmeline slaps Barty’s head. “Not funny,” she chastens.

“Wait, Potter is still trying to talk to Sirius?” Evan asks.

“He is trying to make me feel sorry for them.”

“Well, I’m not picking his side but it might be a good thing for Sirius.”

“What?” Emmeline says with a frown. “Are you saying Sirius should go back to his friends?”

“No.”

Evan raises his hand but it doesn’t help Regulus’ scathing mood. “Look, perhaps his friends have decided to forgive him or whatever. But Sirius’ Hanahaki could be slowed down if he and Lupin talk again.”

“It won’t happen,” Regulus argues, crossing his arms. “Lupin rejected Sirius one way or another and I’m confident that it’s closely related to this ugly bastard in the first place.”

“I’m not saying that it will solve the Hanahaki,” Evan says and stands up. “We all looked through enough to know that the curse won’t disappear like that. Some people actually died even when the feelings were requited.”

“Really?” Barty frowns. “Is it stupid?”

“It’s hard to satisfy. If you don’t believe that they really love you back then in a way you’re also telling that to the flowers,” he explains.

“That’s why they can’t know that Sirius has the Hanahaki,” Regulus reminds. “Lupin will probably try to be all sorry for himself and try to save Sirius but there is no way that it will work. Potter might piece it together if he knows that Sirius has the Hanahaki.”

“It’s too risky,” Emmeline agrees, eyes jumping to the ground before she grimaces and looks up. “Actually,” she whispers with a sorry smile, “I think Lupin and Sirius already talked.”

“What?!” He hisses. “How did I not know that?”

“Because I’m not sure.”

“If he rejected Sirius another time he would probably be dead,” Barty points out.

She shakes her head. “I didn’t come to watch the Quidditch game, remember? And I crossed the path of Lupin with Pettigrew, looking like they were heading there,” she explains. “But they seemed to be arguing, though I’m not sure about what but Lupin seemed mad.”

Regulus squints at her and needs to focus to relax his jaw before he breaks a tooth. “And?”

Emmeline twitches with guilt and joins her hands nervously. “Well I thought I might check on Sirius, considering that he would probably not want to watch the game with everything going on… I found him choking in a corridor.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Reg’ calm down,” Evan quickly says and steps in. “Sirius was fine after, right?”

Emmeline quickly nods. “Yes! It wasn’t– it wasn’t as bad like at the pub, I promise Regulus… I cleared his lungs so he could breathe again but he was dead tired so I brought him to his room.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?” He hisses. “Why didn’t you!”

“Because I didn’t want to stress you more!” She exclaims. “Maybe Sirius would tell you, I didn’t know.”

Barty clears his throat. “The point is that it could have only been triggered by Lupin, right?”

Regulus clenches his fists and looks at her. “Did he talk to Sirius?”

“I’m not sure. But they could have easily crossed paths,” she admits. “Sirius probably won’t tell.”

“Well, that clears this up,” Barty says, lounging in the bed with crossed legs. “Sirius’ friends knowing about the Hanahaki will make Lupin try to save him, if he doesn’t want him dead.”

“Even if Lupin loves him back… If he confesses to save Sirius then his feelings won’t be seen as honest for the Hanahaki, we have proof of that over history.”

Evan sighs. “Right. I didn’t consider that.”

“That’s exactly why I’m not going to help Potter talk to Sirius,” Regulus says. “Lupin rejected him once already and I’m not risking my brother’s life just for the chance that they might make up. Even if they did, if Lupin doesn’t love Sirius back and tells him then he will still die.”

“Regulus… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Emmeline says.

He tries to not glare at her, forcing himself to look down. “Don’t do it again. Please,” he clips before taking a deep breath. “Well, now I have to deal with noisy Potter. Better that he thinks I have the Hanahaki.”

“Tell him it’s me.”

“What?” Evan spins to Barty and his wide grin. “What are you saying?”

“In case Potter pesters you about it and come on, it’s obvious he will, if you need to be in an unrequited love with someone let it be me.”

Regulus deadpans at him. “Why on Earth would I fall in love with you?”

“Hey! Who cares about that detail?”

“Fiore mio,” he purrs and Regulus gags out. “Picture Potter trying to help Reggie, especially because you’re Sirius’ brother, he will try to figure out a solution. If he comes mad at me then I will have a free shot at punching him.”

Regulus sighs out, stomping into the bathroom because he needs a change of clothes, and Emmeline pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Of course that’s why you want to do that.” She sighs. “We aren’t sure that Potter will try anything, if we are lucky he might not jump to the conclusion that Regulus actually has the Hanahaki.”

“Wait, wait, wait a second,” Evan blurts out. “I actually want to see Barty punch Potter.”

“You’re no help!”

“None of you are helping,” Regulus snaps. “And Potter can go to hell! He isn’t going near me any time soon.”

“Except in your dreams,” Barty sings out but he is cut by a slap.

“Sirius doesn’t need him, none of them. He can try to pester me again but this time I will make him mute for the rest of his life.” Regulus growls before taking a deep breath, walking out of the bathroom once he finished putting on clothes for the evening. “I’m going to see Sirius now. We have plans.”

“Wait, Re-”

He walks out of the dorm without listening to Emmeline. It’s his second mistake. First, he froze at the Kelpie’s Dance instead of helping Sirius and now he obviously indulged in speaking to Potter which is why his brain completely left him helpless out there. The advantage of him and Sirius not talking was that at least Regulus was free of any Potter’s presence and shenanigans.

If only his stupid heart could be smarter than this. First year he was too young to understand that liking James Potter and his sunny laugh, charming eyes that can’t see beyond his nose and charisma like some kind of stupid golden god. Eleven year old Regulus was a fool and he wouldn’t want to slap him but apparently his younger self just had to be enamoured enough that he can’t be moved on. Regulus would throw himself down some stairs to put some sense into his treacherous heart but now he needs to cure Sirius’ stupid weeping heart.

Sirius still doesn’t tell him the full story. Regulus lets it go only because it’s a full moon, which means that they need to prepare the animagus potion and they have to do it tonight. His brother assuredly leads them out of the castle, showing him even more secret passage and promising at least a hundred more, as they head out for the Forbidden Forest for the potion preparation. They are lucky that there are no clouds, otherwise they would need to wait another month, but somehow Sirius doesn’t bear looking at the full-moon.

Regulus can see that he seems sad, quite anxious, as he leads them almost at the opposite of the more visited parts of the Forbidden Forest. He even jumps when he hears a distant howl and Regulus would have joked if he is scared of werewolves, as if there would be one around Hogwarts, if it wasn’t for his pale face. Sirius insists that he is fine, only cold and itching to get back to bed, so they hurry.

His brother places the phial under a perfect moon ray once they find a dew untouched by human or sunlight that they fill in a silver teaspoon. Regulus spits the mandrake leaf into the phial, grimacing at the after taste and finally freed from the rough texture against his inside cheek, before putting one strand of hair and the chrysalis of a Death’s-head Hawk Moth.

“Are you sure that your bag won’t move it?”

“Sirius, I know my bag,” he replies. “It’s perfect and completely stable, it’s made to keep potions.”

The phial is immediately sealed and slipped in his potion pouch, charmed to keep the potions safe and sound without any feeling of the outside - be it movement, light and temperature. The perfect tool to prepare potions as needy as this one.

“Alright, let’s hurry up to the castle.”

“Do you have something else to do?” Regulus asks with a frown as his brother hurries off. “Sirius!”

“Sh!” He hisses and turns around. “Whisper.”

“Then reply to me,” he huffs out, joining his steps thanks to Sirius slowing down before speeding up.

“I just want to get back to the castle because it’s freezing.”

With Sirius’ jumpy behaviour and his lack of enthusiasm, it’s probably a lie. Regulus fears that he forced him to be at his side; after all, he could easily prepare the animagus potion by himself. To be honest, he probably would have never been interested in becoming an Animagus before that. Not that it’s a useless skill, if anything it’s quite brilliant and could be useful, but it never crossed Regulus’ mind. Sirius showing him Padfoot, proudly and quite playfully, made him realise that it’s worth the try. This would give them a connection, even if he is convinced that the Marauders are all animagi, but Sirius helping him is special and whether or not they find a cure then Regulus will hold on that memory alone.

“Sirius, talk to me,” he says, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice, as he takes a hold of Sirius’ arm to force him to slow down and look at him. “Are you scared of something?”

A long faraway howl echoes through the night. It seems sad, lonely even, which is why it shouldn’t make Sirius startled and aghast. He looks around like he might spot the wolf, before fiercely dragging Regulus behind him.

“Yes. I am.”

He tries to follow his speed but he is still confused. “Why? You are the one who told me that you know the Forbidden Forest! You convinced me!”

“I’m not scared of that!”

“Sirius-”

“I just want to sleep, alright?!” He snaps but his voice isn’t there, only quiet and whiny. “Just… Let’s go back. Hopefully we will still be lucky and storms will come soon so you can finish the whole process.”

He doesn’t push it. Sirius stays wordless up until they are in the Room of Requirement before finally babbling out about the rest of the process, mentioning that it’s a pain to wake up at dawn to cast the spell and that he almost missed it a few times. Regulus can see that he is nervous or stressed so he lets him do it, answering at the right times and following with questions to help distract him.

The Hogwarts Express pulls up at the train station on a rainy day. It’s not a storm and Regulus is a bit disappointed. He has no inkling about his animagus form whereas Sirius showed off that he dreamt of a dog on the first night. Regulus is convinced that the dog attacked or at least pursued him in his dream. He feels weary but tries to keep himself upright.

The only flaw in his secret message with Kreacher is that the elf doesn’t have a way to write back. He manages to read the code even if the letter is in his parents’ hands but their replies are always sealed by them; Kreacher has never opened them probably because it would be noticed. Once they reach the 9¾ platform, they will go to the bathroom and hopefully Kreacher will wait for them there with some of their affairs. If he isn’t there then they will simply apparate with Alphard’s pocket watch, which will be triggered at 3:05pm. Their uncle probably left this small window so they can say goodbyes to their friends.

There is only Dorcas and Emmeline with them. It’s a short break which makes it quite peaceful. Most people wouldn’t bother to make the trip back but when you have controlling parents like Emmeline, or doting ones if you’re lucky like Dorcas, then you will take the train. Apparently Potter and Lupin fall in that category. The latter looks dreadful even behind his blank face, eyes quietly shifting toward Regulus, his brother and friends, and the book open in his hands appears useless considering he hasn’t flipped one single page ever since they arrived there.

Potter has a lack of manner compared to him. He has been painfully obvious in his stalking. As if staring and moving his face around is a way of communication. Regulus thankfully has his friends around him so Potter stayed back but he often caught him watching. It’s annoying, especially since he appears worried, but he sticks to his initial plan to keep him away as much as possible. From him and Sirius likewise.

His brother isn’t as impassible as he wants to be about them so he keeps his eyes on Dorcas or Emmeline, chatting about the simplest thing. Regulus is up to the task to glare at Potter with the hope that it will push him under the rail of the train. McKinnon joins them a bit late, rushing through the rain with a few curses and pushing herself under their shared umbrella. When she spots Sirius, she seems ready to go see them - slightly furious - and Potter looks like he will follow but the Hogwarts Express arrives right on time.

On the ride back, they picked a compartment for themselves. Regulus closes the door magically just in case a parasite, like James Potter, tries to burst in. He wouldn’t put it past them and he only remembers now that Sirius was supposed to run away with James at first - whether that’s why he tries to talk to his brother or not.

Regulus is woken up by Emmeline, who smiles at him, whilst Dorcas tries to hold back her laugh.

“We’re here,” she says with a quiet voice. “Better leave the train as soon as you can, right?”

“Right,” he croaks out, voice hoarse, as he sits up and startles when Sirius falls on his laps, snoring.

“He drooled on you,” Dorcas snickers and points on his shoulder. “But we didn’t want to separate you two.”

“Urgh.”

Regulus slaps his cheek until Sirius tries to fight back. “Get up you lazy arse, we’re there. And I will drop you here.”

“Tu es chiant,” he groans, sitting up before grunting when Regulus throws his luggage in his laps. “Hey!”

“I said hurry!”

“Fine! You better run before I kick your arse!” Sirius barks.

“Wait!” Emmeline shouts.

Dorcas freezes and lets go of the door handle. “What?” She asks, turning to look at her. “What is it?”

“Your mother,” she blurts out. “She’s here!”

“What?” Sirius hurries to the window but Dorcas stops him.

“She might see you through the window!”

Regulus swallows. “Are… Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure,” Emmeline confirms with a voice clean of emotions. “She is alone.”

“Bloody hell, what is she doing here?!” Sirius exclaims.

“Calm down,” Dorcas says. “You can outrun her, I will distract her or something?”

“Why is she here?” Regulus repeats. “I didn’t tell them anything. How could she know–”

“Dorcas is right, you ought to run before she notices you. At what time is the portkey?”

Sirius flips out the pocket watch from his pocket, opening it. “At 3:05. It started ticking now that it’s 3.”

“Alright, let’s just walk as far as we can. You get through the barrier and rush to the toilets at King’s Cross,” she says with confidence. “She might not spot you in the crowd.”

Regulus gasps when he feels himself shaken. Sirius is at his side, hand around his arm, with a concerned frown. Something must be written on his face because he purses his lips with a tortured smile.

“Reggie, if you don’t want-”

“What? I’m going,” he snaps, grabbing his luggage, “we’re going.”

“Re-”

“We need to go. I’m sure Kreacher is going to be here,” he quickly says and yanks the door open.

James Potter blinks down at him, face twitching with a tensed smile. “Oh-”

Sirius coughs harshly behind Regulus who immediately straightens up when he spots Lupin at Potter’s side, probably looking at Sirius. It’s oblivious they were waiting for them

“Back off!” Dorcas snaps and pushes them to shove right into Potter.

He falls into Lupin who tries to not fall but still hits the person behind them. The corridor is already full of students trying to go out, not as many as usual, but it’s enough for it to be crowded and for Dorcas to spread chaos through it as she keeps pushing them back.

“Go,” Emmeline insists and pushes them out of the compartment.

Potter tries to fight back, though with less conviction compared to her aura, and even calls for Sirius and Regulus between his attempts at pleading Dorcas to let him pass. Regulus drags Sirius by his hand, rushing through the corridor and pushing people away as he tries to calculate which exit out of the train is the best for them; the closest to the barrier to leave the 9 3⁄4 platform and escape their mother.

A lot of people curse at them when they push through but he gives them no attention. They have changed three wagons already and he thinks the next exit is the right one for them. Sirius is behind him but Emmeline might have stayed with Dorcas to stop at least these two parasites.

“Hey!” A student squeals when Regulus barrels out of the train with Sirius. “Careful!”

He catches his breath once they are mingling in a small crowd of students and parents. “Do you have everything?”

Sirius nods and opens the pocket watch before slipping back inside. “We got four minutes.”

“The toilets are not far once we get through the barrier.”

“Are you sure Kreacher will be here?”

“Hopefu-”

“Regulus Arcturus Black!!”

His heart plummets. A brisk cold smothers his whole body and he feels like he is falling but he is held.

“Putain de merde,” Sirius swears and pulls him back.

Walburga Black strides furiously through the crowd with her eyes hateful and burning like a vicious Crucio.

“And you,” she growls, louder than the brouhaha and shrieker than any happy squeals. “Sirius Orion Black!”

“Run,” his brother says and tugs him. “Reggie, run!”

Sirius yanks him and almost makes him fall but Regulus manages to find his footing as they run toward the barrier. Their mother screams at them and her heels clink stronger than before, perhaps even crushing the stone, but his brother doesn’t let go of his hand as he speeds up.

“Padfoot!”

Regulus looks behind to see James Potter rushing to them too with a quick panicked look at their mother. Sirius only pulls on his hand harder.

“Come back here immediately!” Walburga screams.

They are close to the barrier, only needing one last desperate dash to reach it. The guard just deemed the passage safe to traverse for the next student to go through without getting Muggle’s attention.

“Oh Merlin!”

A rough crash cuts through the air, distracting everyone from their initial focus. Sirius slows down just a tad to look behind his shoulder. He completely stops with a wide ecstatic smile. Regulus turns to look and freezes too.

Their mother is lying on the floor next to a toppled cart with two big luggages. She is still alive but clearly in pain, it’s not enough to distract her as she immediately tries to sit up with a deadly hiss and glare at Emmeline.

“Salazar,” Regulus gasps out.

“My apologies!” Emmeline shouts with a panicked voice, hands in front of her mouth, as her parents run to her spitting alarmed apologies. “I’m so sorry Madam! I didn’t see you!”

Sirius blurts out her laughing and tugs Regulus before he can follow. The guard is still in surprise but he notices their duo rushing toward them. He doesn’t manage to stop them even shouting at them but Sirius jumps straight into the barrier with Regulus still in his hand.

They don’t stop even if the landing is a bit clumsy. The toilets are not a completely safe destination considering the Muggles around but they still burst in it, out of breath. Regulus glances around, throat dry and clumped with all the events. The door closes behind them and Kreacher appears with two big luggage.

“Master Regulus. Master Sirius.”

“Kreacher! Thank Salazar,” Regulus says and crouches with a trembling smile. “Thank you so much-”

“Kreacher got Master’s message,” he articulates with a vicious glance at Sirius before looking at Regulus. “Kreacher gathered all Masters’ affairs in secret but Kreacher doesn’t understand where Masters are going.”

“Oh Kreacher-”

“2 minutes Reggie,” Sirius whispers.

“Kreacher I’m sorry, we need to go and I won’t be able to write to you again.”

Kreacher slowly blinks, looking down at the luggages. “Kreacher doesn’t understand.”

Regulus can’t help but hug him. The house-elf has always been his first and most precious friend. It’s probably why Sirius never handled living at Grimmauld Place - he had no allies whilst Regulus at least had Kreacher.

“I will miss you and I will try to see you again, alright?” He says, taking a good look at the confused face of the elf. “It’s not safe for me and Sirius to go back there-”

“Did you tell our mother that we were here?” Sirius asks, tone sharp. “Answer Kreacher.”

“Sirius!”

“Master Sirius is mistaken. Kreacher left Grimmauld Place without telling anything or even to Mistress Walburga.”

“Kreacher would have not told her,” Regulus hisses.

Sirius rolls his eyes, taking out the pocket watch, and turns his back to them. Regulus can discern the ticking and quickly takes out from his coat’s pocket a worn-out white tissue with messy embroideries and stubborn but clean stains.

“Master Regulus?”

“A gift for you Kreacher,” he whispers and forces it into one of his hands.

Kreacher looks at it, panicked, and tries to pull away. “This is Master Regulus’ old handkerchief!”

“Yes and now this makes you free.” Regulus nods. “Do you understand? Kreacher I’m freeing you.”

“Kreacher wants to stay at Grimmauld Place! Kreacher loves serving the Noble and Ancient B-”

“Kreacher,” he raises his voice. “Listen to me! In case you want to go somewhere else, you can from now on.”

He can see that the elf has trouble understanding what is happening. It’s a lot since he already got to sneak behind his real masters for Regulus and now Kreacher must realise that he might never come back to his home. He doubts that he will but if he safely can then he will make the trip to at least check on him. The handkerchief is the first one Regulus ever got and it’s with it that he tried his first attempts at calligraphy and embroidery with Kreacher’s help, now it’s his lucky item that he kept on him at all times.

Kreacher stares at him without any emotion and the handkerchief in his loose hand.

“Where is Master Regulus going?”

“Less than a minute,” Sirius says and grabs the big luggage, with his initials on the handle, beside Kreacher.

“I can’t tell you,” Regulus sighs out. “But I will try to reach out to you, I promise. Kreacher please understand.”

“Kreacher doesn’t understand why Master Regulus doesn’t want to come back to Grimmauld Place.”

“Because it’s not safe for us, not anymore.”

“Reggie.”

“Fine!” He snaps and takes his own heavy luggage, jungling with his second one from school. “Kreacher, stay safe please.”

“Is Master Regulus saying goodbye?” Kreacher whispers with his eyes reddening by the minute.

Sirius softly grabs Regulus’ hand, pocket watch in his other hand ticking like a clock, and he squeezes it back. He sighs out and tries to fight the uncomfortable feeling crawling through his eyes but this really feels like he is throwing away too many good memories at once.

“I will see you if I can Kreacher, I promise,” he articulates, “but for now it's goodbye.”

“Mas-”

Regulus falls ass first. Sirius almost loses balance because of that but manages to sidestep him as he bursts out laughing. The nausea isn’t strong but still affects him more than Regulus expected, his brother’s mirth is still the one bothering him the most.

“You better not be laughing at Krea-”

“Em’ hit Walburga with a cart!” Sirius wheezes. “A cart!”

Regulus guffaws with him before even realising it. He recalls the shout of their mother and the sound of the cart falling to the ground but the way she laid on the platform is even more absurd because Walburga Black does not fall.

“You alright there?”

He coughs in surprise, trying to calm himself down with a last hiccup of mirth, whilst Sirius keeps snorting with lips pursed. It takes him a second to recognize the man looming over them, albeit their striking aura is only because of their height - Alphard still has the same kind playful smile with soft eyes.

“Uncle Alphard?” Sirius gasps out, cheeks flushed from their recent hilarity.

“Good afternoon Sirius.” Alphard grins and offers his hand to Regulus. “Rough landing Reggie?”

He clears his throat and grabs it. “Just a bit surprised.” His uncle has more strength than he thought, almost jumping mid-air from that pull.

“Thank you for the portkey,” Sirius says and offers it to him. “Here is your pocket watch. It’s still the same one.”

“Well, I’m sentimental,” Alphard grins and glances at it. “And sorry for that rush,” he says and rubs a hand between Regulus’ shoulder-blades which surprises him. “This is all a bit expeditive but I didn’t want your parents to track you down.”

“Well, though luck. Walburga was at the train station,” Sirius drawls out.

Alphard shakes his head in surprise before playing with one of his long, ridiculous Regulus wants to say, moustache. “I was afraid they might have contacts in the ministry… Even if we pass through the French Ministry of Magic the British Ministry had to be notified,” he sighs. “This is probably how she sniffed you out. Sacrebleu, we are going to be late if we don’t go drop to the Ministry now.”

“The Ministry?” Regulus frowns. “Why?”

“The Trace will still be active on you, Regulus,” Alphard explains. “Sirius’ birthday is coming soon but they could have followed it to find you anywhere you go. That’s why I had to declare you under my care but the Ministry still needs your inputs… Are you alright though? She didn’t do anything?”

“No, no,” Sirius chuckles. “Emmeline hit her with a cart when she was screeching at us.”

“A cart?!” Their uncle bursts out laughing, a deep one with a melodious rhythm, and his tall frame folds slightly as he puts his free hand on his Sirius’ shoulder. “Morgana, I would have loved to see that!” Sirius smiles at him and looks at Regulus, looking fonder. He is surprised when Alphard brings them both in his arms to hug them. “Oh, how I have missed you two. Mes petites terreurs.”

Regulus is a bit stiff, surprised by it, but he relaxes himself in his grasp with Sirius softly knocking their heads together. The affection is welcomed but still a wonder as it’s been years since they have even seen each other. He figured that Alphard would prefer Sirius, during the family dinners he has always been closer to him; although Regulus was never talkative either and tried to stick to Kreacher’s side.

Alphard doesn’t appear to have changed much although he has more wrinkles than before. His hair is as black as theirs and his silver eyes, a well-known trait only belonging to the Black’s lineage, and he is quite touchy. He is still chuckling about their mother and her experience with a cart at the Ministry where Sirius and him are interrogated over this decision of changing custody and also checking if they aren’t bewitched to follow their uncle. They don’t give them any troubles so they are quickly off and their uncle apparates them in the middle of nowhere beside a muggle device.

Their uncle takes the luggages to put them in a space in the back of the car. Sirius appears familiar with cars, immediately climbing in one of the back seats with a sign at Regulus to follow, whilst he has only heard about them from Dorcas.

“Put the belt on,” Alphard says and smiles encouragingly at Regulus. “Don’t worry, these are safe. I’ve been using them for years.”

“You really are living as a Muggle?” He asks and tries to not obviously startle when the car starts to shake and leaves the side of the bumpy road to take it.

“Partly yes. I have a floo but I have sealed it for now, until we’re sure your parents can’t storm through. The Ministry should update us tomorrow.”

“I don’t think the Potters would have done that,” Sirius points out with a frown at him. “I wouldn’t have even thought of it…”

“Well, if you had left and I stayed behind, they probably wouldn’t have cared,” Regulus argues. “They need one heir. Which means they would have probably left you with”

“You weren’t going to run away together?” Alphard asks with a curious look at him through the mirror in the middle of the car front.

“I would have offered,” Sirius argues.

Regulus huffs and crosses his arms. Alphard glances at Sirius before focusing back on the road. They continue in silence for a little moment with the landscape unfolding to more up and downs, forests and mountains.

“Well, it’s also easier for me as Black. I might be exiled from the family but paper-wise I’m still one and that made the process easier. I also pulled some strings to ensure your safety with the Ministry.”

“Like what?” Sirius frowns and leans in the middle. “Do you think they will really try to drag us back? Or Regulus at least?”

“This is going to make news,” he points out. “The two heirs of the Black family running away? This will shake some things up. If something happens to me you two will inherit everything I have so you won’t have to return there.”

“Oh… That’s,” Regulus trails off with a puzzled look at Sirius who seems as surprised. “That’s a lot Uncle Alphard but-”

“None of that Pureblood manners, call me uncle or Alphard,” he cuts. “And truly I have enough for the both of you. I’m glad you contacted me when I left the family, I had to figure things out on my own and I wouldn’t want to wish that on you two.”

Sirius purses his lips and leans back against the backseats. Regulus is as speechless as him at all the preparation. He hasn’t even thought of the details with the Ministry, the only thing that mattered was to get out of there for Sirius. If anything, Regulus could have stayed behind and closed himself off as he always did. This, right now, is completely out of his comforting habits.

“Thank you,” Regulus articulates with a wobbly smile because there are many emotions to divide and bury, “tonton?”

Alphard looks excitedly at him with the mirror. “Your French is still perfect!”

“Yes well, when it’s beaten into you,” Sirius growls with his chin in his palm.

Their uncle hums and they finally spot a village in the landscape.

“Where are we?”

“East, near the border to Germany, if you want to be exact,” he says. “It has the most beautiful landscapes. Most are muggles, which is also a nice change, so you will have to be a bit careful when you go out. It’s not that isolated and one of the neighbours is going to show you all the nice spots for your age.”

It looks rather nice. It’s not like Regulus is fond of big cities or anything. “Why not apparate us home? Do you use no magic?”

“I do,” Alphard replies. “But like the floo, I have also blocked the house to be found by apparating and harmful letters. It’s safer.”

Regulus nods but he is relieved that they might at least get some letters. He will need to write a letter to Emmeline and Dorcas to thank them for their help. Alphard has been banned from the family, loudly, which means no one tried to contact to him and he doesn’t sound like he tried to do so either way; though now there is risks that their parents might try to retrieve them and that Alphard thought of written them in his will isn’t a good omen. Hopefully the Ministries will manage to do something but the Black are the more, if not the most, important Purebloods family so who knows how that will go.

“I have to ask but is there a reason why— you suddenly needed to run away?” Alphard asks with a cautious look. “You don’t have to say but I hope you know that I wouldn’t kick any of you out. No matter the reason.”

Regulus glances at Sirius, who squirms with an uncomfortable purse of his lips.

“Because Sirius’ personality is ‘how much bent can I be before it becomes a crime’.”

His brother whirls with wide eyes and flushing cheeks before swatting him. Regulus returns the favour and they soon are tugging at each other’s hairs while trying to stomp on their feet.

“Hey! Hey!” Alphard calls just as the car jumps on a cobbled road. “No fighting in the car! Let go of each other’s hairs. Both of you.”

“He started it!” Sirius shouts.

Regulus tugs even harder at his hair and hisses in pain when his foot is stepped on.

“You two, stop this now. You might break something and I don’t want to cause an accident.”

“Fine,” Regulus growls out and shoves Sirius who reiterates in the same way. “Crétin.”

“Abruti.”

Alphard laughs and shakes his head with a big smile. Some people are in the small animated street, it’s more a town than a city, and they appear to recognize Alphard or his car as people greet him on their road who returns the waves and nods. Sirius anxiously squirms in his seat, looking outside before glancing at the back of Alphard’s head.

“Is it— a problem?”

Alphard frowns. “Well, yes. I know how to drive this muggle transport but I’m not sure I could repair it or have the right reflexes if you br-”

“No I meant about the bent thing.”

“Oh,” he chuckles and shakes his head. “Of course not. Though being with the same gender or not doesn’t mean there is no risk of, er, getting a disease or pregn-”

“Please let’s just change the subject,” Regulus groans out and Sirius shoots him an incredulous look.

“You bloody brought that up,” he accuses.

“Yes, well have you seen yourself?” He scoffs back.

“No fighting!” Alphard warns before they restart.

His house, half-timbering, is at the end of the village it seems. It’s not as big as Grimmauld Place but comfortable looking with two floors painted in a radiant green except for the wood. There is a large door on the left part of it, looking like an extension of the house.

“There is a garden and a small field in the back,” he says once they walked out of the car. “Let’s bring all your luggages inside then I will show you everything.”

Sirius takes his luggage and Alphard is about to grab the two biggest ones just when the neighbour’s house opens and a woman steps out.

“Alphard ! Barnabé est encore dans mon jardin !”

“Encore?!”

“Oui !”

Their uncle sighs.

“Who is Barnabé?” Regulus asks as the woman appears to notice them, eyeing them with an avid curiosity and she quickly signs at someone inside her house.

“One of my geese.”

“Why do you have geese?” Sirius articulates as he tries to hold back his laugh. “And why is it in her garden?”

“Because Barnadé hates being alone,” he sighs out and hands Regulus keys. “Go inside, I will go catch him then I will bring these two inside, they are too heavy for you two. J’arrive Hélène !”

Hélène waves at them and stumbles on a shy ‘hello’ before she appears to be too embarrassed, quickly whispering to Alphard when he reaches her.

“What is the use of a goose?”

Sirius shrugs and turns toward the house. “Give me the keys.”

Regulus throws it at him and stares at his brother walking to the door. He focuses back on the luggage with a tired quiet sigh, almost this close to just going to bed even if it's barely the start of the evening. The luggage that Kreacher prepared for him is really heavy. He manages to put it down without crushing one of his feet, glancing at the boy who is walking up to him.

“Hum, do you want help?”

The English is understandable despite the nonexistent accent but Regulus admires the attempt. The door from the neighbour is still open so he probably came from there. They seem to be the same age although the boy is tall, not dreadfully, but enough to show that he hasn’t fully grown into his limbs. The blond smiles nervously at him with a look at the car and the last luggages, starting to furiously blush. Regulus starts to find it funny so he stays quiet, openly staring at him.

“Erm, nice the meet you,” he squeaks out, balancing his arms with a slight panicked laugh. “To meet you? I’m Nathan.”

Alphard didn’t tell his neighbour that Sirius and him speak in French then, it shouldn’t make him that amused but Nathan appears to really try hard as he points at the luggage.

“Help?”

“Reggie! Move your arse because I’m not going to carry your stuff, lazy twat.”

“Alphard said he is going to take it,” he argues when Sirius runs back to his side with a menacing squint until he notices their guest.

“Oh, hello.”

Nathan’s eyes widen on Sirius, blushing harder like he is going to explode. “Bonjour ! Hum– Hello!!”

Regulus snorts at his volume and French accent and quickly turns to his brother who looks curiously at Nathan. Sirius glances with an accusing look.

“Are you torturing him?”

“How would I do that?”

“You didn’t tell him that we speak French!”

“Do we?”

Sirius elbows him with an exasperated hiss before offering his hand with a smile to Nathan, whose eyes widen like saucers. “Hi, sorry we actually speak French but my little brother here is an arse. I’m Sirius.”

“Oh, oh, it’s fine,” he gasps out and shakes his hand, completely ignoring Regulus now that his eyes landed on Sirius, “I’m Nathan.”

“This little prick if you haven’t noticed is Regulus.”

Nathan laughs far too loudly at his joke and Regulus has the thought to just glare for that. Of course their neighbour’s possible son is already under Sirius’ charm. In fact, he hasn’t let go of his hand and Sirius tilts his head at it with a grin.

“I see what you meant by ‘bent’,” Alphard whispers in Regulus’ ear who can’t help but let out a genuine laugh at that.

His uncle grins at him proudly before the goose in his arm honks and startles all of them. Nathan shakes himself off, letting go of Sirius’ hand like it burnt.

“Oh they look so much like you Alphard,” Hélène exclaims with a happy gasp. “They could be your sons. Hum, how do you say ‘welcome’?”

“Thank you, that’s nice of you,” Regulus answers in French, only to mess with Nathan, and she seems thrilled that he does.

“They learnt it since they were children,” Alphard comments. “Reggie, take Barnabé and don’t let go of him while I bring the rest inside. One of his eyes is blind so be careful he doesn’t always know where he goes. Also he is heavier than he looks.”

“What?!”

The goose is pushed into his arm just as Sirius laughs. Barnabé stays still but looms over Regulus with clumsy movements.

“Sirius, take the cake from Hélène please.”

“It’s to welcome you here!” She smiles and hands him a plate with a tall cake. “It’s a Kugelhupf, one of our famous desserts here!”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Alphard you all need to eat dinner at our house once, I would love to cook all for you,” she excitedly offers before smiling at Nathan. “And you seem to be the same age so you might show them where to have fun here!”

Nathan laughs nervously and barely looks at Sirius before glancing at the ground.

Barnabé starts honking in his arms and Regulus grimaces at it, unsure on how to hold it since it’s trying to jump, and they quickly say their goodbyes to their neighbours. Alphard tells him to put the goose outside, by the kitchen’s door.

“But be careful of the chickens!!”

Regulus hesitates at his fussy tone but manages to step outside. There are a myriad of chickens walking around in the garden, clucking and picking at the grass, and they don’t appear mean or threatening. He quickly puts down Barnabé who starts flapping his wings and he jumps back when the goose seems ready to rush at him but he only tries to climb on his shoes.

“Are you scared Reggie?” Sirius guffaws from the kitchen’s window.

“I would like to see you here,” he seethes.

Alphard appears beside Sirius and nods gravely. “Barnabé has some abandonment issues, that’s why he tries to go to Hélène’s garden when I leave. Just push him and come back inside before the chickens attack you Reggie.”

“The chickens?”

“Dreadful creatures. I would rather have dragons,” he mutters and walks away leaving Sirius and Regulus baffled.

“Alright, he is mad too.”

Their uncle prepared them each a bedroom. They are similar, facing each other, with a large bed and the space for their clothes and to work. In his living-room there is an antique piano that Regulus can play if he wants, Alphard says as he remembers that he had classes. His house is warmer than Grimmauld Place ever was, colourful and soft, with the stairs in front of the large living room with two couches and one voluminous seat. He uses magic to start the fireplace but other than that everything appears to be Muggle.

Alphard mentions that once they have the Ministry’s confirmation, he will bring them out to shop a bit. Though he assures them that they are free to rest and do whatever they want. He seems quite happy that they are here and whilst he is tactile, he starts to ask Regulus before touching his shoulder or even hugging him when he decides to go to sleep. Sirius follows him too, probably more tired because of the Hanahaki and he even coughed several times. He quickly said that he only had a cold and Alphard prepared a grog for them both.

Regulus sleeps like a baby the first day and in the morning Alphard is already up and ready for the day, grumbling about cursed chickens. He prepares a coffee for him, mentioning that Sirius told him that Regulus prefers tea except for the morning. There is a lot of familiarity, as if their uncle never forgot about them even if the last time Regulus saw him he had been at best 6 years old. He asks him about what he does here and all the animals in his backyard. Compared to the chickens, Barnabé and his wife - Maria, who is very shy of strangers and is more dependent than Barnabé who sometimes cries when he can’t find her - are simply for pleasure. Though apparently they are good guard dogs too, Alphard mutters that chickens could eat someone if they want to and he advises Regulus to only go outside with him to be sure nothing happens to him.

He is pretty sure he is exaggerating but he indulges in his words and asks to show him what he does to keep himself busy. They had the time to feed the chickens and gather some of their eggs, all the while Barnabé sticks to Regulus’ side like some kind of lost puppy. Alphard mentions that he is considering getting a cow to have milk because he likes to work with his hands and get dirty to have food in his plate - the opposite of the Black family - and points out a chicken he plans to kill and prepare for them this week because it has a nasty infection starting in his eye so it’s apparently better to kill it now before it gets to another one or worse.

An owl swoops by with a letter just when they come back inside to find Sirius in the kitchen eating the breakfast Alphard prepared for him with Hélène’s klougof, toasts and drinks. Alphard takes it and casts various spells before handing it to Sirius.

Apparently, Potter took Regulus’ advice and wrote a letter to Sirius. He doesn’t know if it’s good since Sirius runs to his room to read it. It’s a bit hard to not feel left out but Regulus is aware that he should leave his brother some space. Thankfully Alphard offers him distractions without asking more questions. He offers to teach him cooking, how they will make homemade pasta today with some of the tomato sauce he made over the summer.

They talk easier than Regulus ever expected. Alphard is closer to Sirius personality-wise and like his brother planned to, he cut ties with their family by disagreeing with them. The more they chat though, the more comforting it starts to be and Regulus feels like Alphard understands him as much. He talks about his own childhood and how at first he never did much but obeyed before he learnt better.

“It’s going to be ready soon,” Alphard says. “Go fetch Sirius, please, in case he fell asleep.”

Sirius is in fact more awake than ever. Regulus freezes a bit at the look on his face, wide eyes empty of any clear emotions as he sits with his knees against his chest on his bed. He hasn’t brushed his hair so the letter sitting beside him must have taken all his attention.

“Sirius?” He needs to step closer to catch his brother’s attention who quickly clears his throat and rubs his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he croaks out.

Regulus glances at the letter and hopes that Alphard can wait a bit more. He sits in front of Sirius who finally looks at him even if it’s with red-rimmed eyes.

“What did he write?”

He sighs out and settles his face against the top of his knees. “James said that… They all want to talk to me. About what happened and– that he is sorry that he didn’t try to talk to me before.”

“All?”

Sirius nods, face still hidden, and his throat sounds full and sticky. “James, Peter and-and Remus.”

Talking about Lupin would only torture his brother so Regulus crosses his knees. “Didn’t you avoid Potter at Hogwarts too?”

“For good reasons.”

He purses his lips. Sirius has hidden the possible meeting with Lupin and how Emmeline found him choking in a corridor and Regulus wishes he had shared about it. It’s not out of retaliation that he won’t speak about how many times Potter pestered him but on the off-chance that Potter believes Regulus has the Hanahaki, it will probably be more useful that it stays unsaid rather than shared. Sirius is already tortured over what happened with his friends and Regulus adding that he is bothered by one of them indirectly will only add more guilt.

“Does that mean you will talk to him now?”

Sirius chuckles without real pleasure and looks up with a tearful smile. “You know… James is actually worried about where I am, where we are, because I was supposed to go to his place.”

Regulus frowns. “He is mad at you for that?”

He shakes his head. “No. He said that he should have reached out to me because I will always be welcomed at their place, even his parents are asking about me…”

His next words feel dreadful and tighten around his throat. “Do you want to go there?”

Sirius looks at him with vulnerable eyes, wetting his lips before shaking his head. “No,” he articulates as he starts to tremble.

Regulus scooches over immediately, reaching out to hug his brother even if he stays tensed in his initial position. He rubs a hand over his back and tries to not appear as relieved as he is. It’s a nasty satisfaction that Sirius still stays at his side even if another place is open to him.

“I don’t know what happened with your friends, Sirius,” he carefully says. “But I doubt that they are all innocent. They never tried to bring you back to the dorm and… You look sick.”

“I’m not going to talk with them,” he roughly replies.

“Really?”

Sirius coughs, immediately pushing him off to lean to the opposite side as he empties himself in a bed next to his bed. Regulus clutches his free hand and tries to not let his eyes linger on the opened letter; it looks quite long.

“What I did is unforgivable,” he articulates with a rough sob. “I can’t– I can’t go back like I never did that. I can’t believe that I did it and even if they are open to talk now then what will I say? I didn’t mean to? It wasn’t me? I can’t lie to them!”

Regulus observes him but Sirius avoids his eyes, rubbing his sobbing eyes, as he tucks himself against him. He needs to hold himself to not fall as he squeezes his brother. The door creaks just so lightly and he notices Alphard peeking before closing the door to leave them alone.

“Sirius… I really doubt that wha-”

“I almost killed SnIvellus.”

He freezes before quickling restarting to rub Sirius’ back. “What do you mean?”

“I– We have a way.” He clears his throat and digs his face against Regulus’ shoulder. “We have a secret passage to go to the Shrieking Shack but we have to go through the Whomping Willow.”

The Shrieking Shack is the birthplace of many legends around Hogsmeade and even people at Hogwarts are scared of some vengeful ghost screaming from there. Regulus has no idea how to go through the Whomping Willow and has seen it managing to knock down the fastest flyers.

“Is that why Snivellus is spying on you all?”

Sirius shrugs. “He is always lurking…”

“Did you… try to trick him into approaching the Whomping Willow so he can be squished?”

His brother stays still with his eyes on the bed’s sheet. Regulus could almost think that he is dead until finally he breathes out.

“I didn’t think he would believe me. I thought that I could tell him how we got to the tunnel but he would never trust me– that he would do something else out of frustration or that he might attack me and I could hit him with a well-deserved curse.”

Regulus frowns. “But Snape did as you said?” Sirius nods against him. “So he discovered the secret passage and that’s why Potter and all were mad?”

“That’s a part of it,” he whispers. “But I never thought that Snivellus would believe me.”

The Marauders must be hiding something in the Shrieking Shack. Regulus really wants to figure it out but Sirius has asked him to not overthink it– maybe they all go there to shift as animagi and Snape found them transforming. He could easily send them to Azkaban.

“You… wanted to trick Snape by telling him the truth about the Whomping Willow?”

“I don’t bloody know what I was thinking,” he snaps with a sob. “If that wasn’t clear already.”

Regulus can’t help but remember their parents. That time when Sirius asked their father if he could get more paint, he was barely six and still a child scared to disobey who worked on their classes without much complaint. Regulus has been practising the piano and his father asked him to pause so he can answer.

“Do you remember,” Regulus wet his lips. “Do you remember the cupboard in the corridor?”

Sirius looks at him. “What cupboard?”

“At Grimmauld Place,” he says. “You asked for paint one time– and Father told you that you can get more from the cupboard beside the stairs.”

“I don’t… I don’t remember that.”

Regulus can still see it clear as if it happens in front of him right now. “I was surprised because Father immediately told you: ‘Yes. You can find some in the cupboard.’ I never saw the inside of it and they have never let us draw much… You were shocked that he replied to you because they always complained about your painting as a useless skill.”

“What? Reggie, I don’t get it.”

“Just– just listen to me,” he insists and his voice quivers. “You didn’t move and then Father rose from his seat. I thought he would beat you but he only led you in front of the cupboard. ‘Go on, Sirius, open it’ he said but you looked terrified of it.”

“I stared at it for hours,” he articulates with a shaky frown.

“You were.”

The same happened to Regulus who had made the mistake to ask for a small candy, after a rough session of piano with his tutor, to his mother. She had smiled like a predator and accepted like it happened every day, saying that there are some in the cupboard. Regulus has also stared at the cupboard’s door, afraid to trust but torn by desire.

“Why are you reminding me that then?”

“I think… that’s what you did with Snape,” Regulus admits. “You told him the truth, what he wanted, but knew he wouldn’t trust you so he would be t-”

“I’m exactly like them.”

“What? Sirius, no-”

“Regulus. Leave me alone,” Sirius warns, white as a sheet, and heaving loudly. Regulus tries to reach out but his hand is slapped away. He tries to talk but Sirius furiously shakes his head and gasps, screams at him to get out. Sirius stays in his room the whole day after he manages to kick Regulus out of his room. Alphard prepares a plate for Sirius, leaving it in front of his door without a question though he asks Regulus if there is something he can’t do or not. Regulus himself isn’t sure and forces himself to eat a bit when Alphard insists.

He feels like he has to Sirius but his brother doesn’t open his door or reply to him. Sirius only comes out for dinner but changes the subject whenever Regulus tries to apologise. To him, it all makes sense what he tried to do with Snape and if he hadn’t told Regulus that Snape believed him then he would have never thought so. Snape must have been desperate or particularly stupid to believe Sirius or perhaps he planned to be hurt for Sirius to be punished. Potter and the rest of his friends probably never expected Sirius to do something as dangerous as that, risking someone’s life and their secret. Regulus isn’t sure what to think but if Snivellus had died– then it would have been a blessing. He has seen enough in the Slytherin dormitory.

Sirius wishes them goodnight and goes back to his room after showering. Regulus doesn’t feel up for much and turns to bed early too.

“Regulus.”

His fingers freeze over the piano’s keys. “Yes, Mother?”

“You have not finished the garden,” she seethes. “Finish what you started. Now.”

Regulus swallows and stands up. “Yes Mother.”

His feet are heavy, fighting against his will, but they bring him to the garden of Grimmauld Place. The air is smothering and bites at his eyes like poison. He spots a slightly big black cat with a thick tail and digging furiously at a patch of dirt before hissing furiously when they come close. It has disturbed a group of wolfsbane and moonflowers, completely turned over the dirt.

“Bloody cat!” His mother hisses. The cat spits back but jumps away at her hex before climbing up the tree and disappears in it. “Damn these parasites,” she growls before turning to Regulus. “Well, Regulus? Finish what you started.”

“Yes Mother,” he says with an empty breath as he tries to not cry.

Sirius’ dead face looks up at him, buried in the recently dug up dirt. Regulus falls to his knees, bare hands pushing back the soil over his brother’s dead eyes staring right at him. His mouth is painfully opened with flowers bursting out from all his orifices. One wolfsbane is slowly digging its way in the corner of his eyes. Regulus trembles but his mother leans over him as he diligently covers his dead brother.

“That’s the flowers you picked Regulus,” she spits. “It’s your choice. They are hideous. But you wanted it. Thanks to you at least we have good manure– our family’s disgrace will have a use at last.”

The bed is drenched in sweat and Regulus tumbles from it as he screams for Sirius, he manages to stumble out of his room to charge into his brother’s room.

“Reggie?” Sirius croaks out before gasping at the sudden weight crashing him down. “Wha-”

“I’m sorry! Please, please– don’t leave me,” he cries out.

Sirius holds him to sleep. They repeat this over the next nights without a question or a comment and Regulus’ bed is left cold. If Alphard notices it, he doesn’t say.

Their uncle hasn’t mentioned anything about their coughing either but he always prepares them some tea with honey and lemon. Their new home, which surprises Regulus himself that he thinks of it that way, is great. Once they receive the Ministry’s response, Alphard brings them both to Paris for a day. It’s a great day that ends with Regulus getting to pick a familiar for himself, to which Sirius whines but Alphard tells him to be patient.

Regulus has always wanted a familiar but their parents only have an owl because it’s useful and neither Sirius nor him ever got the chance to have one. The cat that Regulus had found when he was younger had been killed so he never tried to get one ever again. Sirius never really mentioned if he really wants one, albeit he looks a little jealous when Regulus gets to pick a ferret for himself.

Alphard doesn’t mention the reason for this sudden gift until they are back home and they find Nathan in their uncle’s garage, the part added to the house, with a motorbike. Which Sirius immediately recognizes as a 1959 Triumph Bonneville T120, which Regulus has no idea how he can since it looks dirty and absolutely not working. Though Sirius has mentioned to him that he wants a motorbike once he gets out of Hogwarts, planning to make it fly as one crazy experiment, and Regulus has no idea Alphard even knew about it.

Their uncle explains that since Sirius’ birthday is coming up, he decided to give him his gift in advance - but that he missed enough of Regulus’ birthdays to offer one in advance. Nathan is an apprentice mechanic, and unable to not ogle or blush next to Sirius, so he is here to help him to repair the motorbike. Sirius appears completely ecstatic at the prospect of learning about mechanics and how to take care of his motorbike and drags Nathan to their home everyday to work on it. Regulus enjoys watching just because the to-be mechanic doesn’t seem to stop embarrassing himself around Sirius and almost knocks himself unconscious because Sirius has no tact and is too focused on his bike to notice that cleaning with his shirt is almost a free show for their neighbour. Alphard joins the watching with Regulus several times.

They eat once at Hélène, with her husband Yves, and Nathan who tries to act natural but his eyes always drift toward Sirius. Regulus manages to spook him several times when their gazes meet. On another day, Alphard brings them to a small forest not far from there that grew on a small mountain to gather chestnuts that he plans to cook with cabbage and a chicken. Sirius starts throwing chestnuts at Regulus first, who reiterates in the exact same way before they are rolling in the colourful leaves. They get back home in one piece and help Alphard cook.

It feels like they are at home.

“Reggie!” Sirius bursts out in his bedroom, mid-afternoon. “There is a storm!”

He sits up on the bed, hesitating for a second before closing his book. “You mean–”

“Did you cast the spell?” He whispers with an excited look. “At dawn and dusk?”

“Yes, every time without a fail.”

“Then the time is here!” Sirius cheers and throws him a jacket. “We’re taking my bike, his first ride!”

“What? Why not here?” He asks, keeping his voice down. “Alphard is busy in the backyard so he won’t see.”

“What if you are a gigantic thing? We don’t want to break the house. It’s better outside, trust me,” he promises as he grabs some clothes to put them in a bag. “Come on, let’s go!”

Regulus follows him downstairs after taking his potion pouch, putting on a jacket and his shoes the fastest he can, just as Sirius shouts that they are going to try his bike. Alphard doesn’t have the time to say anything before they are out. He puts on the second helmet that Sirius spent a day decorating and climbs cautiously behind him before holding on to his brother’s waist as instructed.

The rain wipes in their faces and the thunder growls around them but Sirius only laughs, speeding up through the paved road as they head toward the forest where they gathered chestnuts. He even goes off road and Regulus grimaces at all the bumps. All the trees shake with the wind and they are hit by more leaves than necessary. Sirius is still thrumming with excitement and Regulus finds himself smiling to him despite the cold and the bad weather.

“You need to undress.”

“What?!”

Sirius gestures at him. “Shifting the first time will vanish your clothes, trust me. But if you want I brought a spare. You never know what will happen to them.”

“We’re in the middle of a forest!” He shouts back.

“Exactly! And no one will go on a walk with that weather! Come on, I saw you naked, before it’s not a problem.”

“No way!”

Sirius rolls his eyes before sputtering when his hair hits his face with the wind. “Fine. Lose your clothes then!”

Regulus glares at him before storming behind a rock. “If it’s a joke Sirius I swear-”

“I lost my uniform like that!”

He sighs out and quickly undresses even if the cold bites him in the ass. The potion is a striking blood-red. His eyes look up at the sky with the small question on why he even ended up in this position.

“Sirius?” He shouts.

“Yeah? You alright?”

“I’m fine.” He breathes out despite a furious chill.

“Do you want to go back home?” Sirius asks.

“No,” he says. “I’m going to drink it.”

“I’m right here Reggie, it will be alright!”

“I know.”

It’s not painful, almost as easy as blinking, but he is lost for a moment. He cautiously walks out of the rock, sniffing the air before startling with his fur raised at the steps closing on him. Regulus needs to look up, far more than he is used to, to spot Sirius with a wide grin on his face.

“Reggie?”

He glances down at his black paws before hissing at a sudden lightning strike that sounds too close to be alright.

“I’m not even surprised that you’re a cat,” he chuckles and crouches with his hand reaching out. “Though you seem bigger than the normal cats.”

Regulus can only meow out and sniffs his hand before Sirius swipes him in his arms with a loud hiss of protest. His brother only cackles and scratches his neck– which oh is the right spot.

“Oh wow, purring sounds actually nice,” Sirius says with a small coo in his voice and avoids Regulus’ attempt at scratching his face. “Hey! Be nice or I'll leave you here… You need a name and Twatass doesn’t sound good when you look this cute,” he muses. “I read that cats have a pouch of fat, I thought it was because they are lazy. But some people call it a love’s pouch because if you take care of your cat and it’s healthy and happy, then the bigger will be the pouch filled with love.”

Regulus meows and tries to grimace at how stupid that sounds just as Sirius raises him with his hands to be face to face. His brother frowns at him playfully.

“But you, Reggie, you are full of mean thoughts.You almost blinded one of my eyes with a chestnut right here,” he coos. “So your name will be Meanpouch-”

Regulus manages to swat a big scratch over Sirius’ annoying face.

They only have one day left before their trip back to Hogwarts. He wants to shift, finally believing him when Sirius told him it can be like a stubborn scratch once you do it the first time, but he doesn’t want Alphard to know; not yet at least. For now it will stay a secret for him and Sirius.

His brother and Potter have written to each other almost every day after their second night here and Regulus isn’t sure of what it means but Sirius’ mood is overall better. That’s why he is standing in front of the running fire with the letter that just arrived, ready to throw it in there. This wasn’t from Potter, the owl had been different and the writing is unfamiliar. Regulus has seen enough of the letters to be certain that it’s not Potter.

Maybe he opened it. Only to check the name at the end. It might be Remus Lupin who wrote the letter. He is tempted to read all of it, just to figure out what kind of curse he will throw first at his face.

“Reggie?” He startles, clutching the letter in hand before turning to face Alphard. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

His uncle squints at the letter before observing him. “Is that letter for Sirius?”

Regulus swallows. “Yes.”

“And you opened it?”

“I– I only wanted to check who it was.”

“Is it the boy that caused the Hanahaki?”

Regulus’ eyes widen and let out a weird croak. “What?”

“Sirius told me,” his uncle confirms and walks up to his side. “When you had your nightmares and slept with him. I came to check and Sirius told me what was going on.”

“Really?” He gasps out. “But– he didn’t tell me.”

“Probably didn’t want to worry you. You two are the same like that,” he points out with a fond smile. “I also noticed your regular coughing. Did you think I didn’t care if you two were sick or not?”

Regulus shakes his head. “I just thought that you were giving us space,” he admits, still in shock. “What else did he tell you?”

“The bond that you two have, which means you also have the Hanahaki. That’s a smart way to slow it down but it won’t save Sirius…”

“Do you know of a way?”

Alphard stares at the fire with a small shake of his head. “I have tried to look for one since Sirius told me this– sad mess. So far nothing though.”

“Oh…”

“But you can’t hide Sirius’ letter from this boy,” he says. “Your brother won’t like it.”

“What if he rejects him again? This will– It will kill Sirius,” he argues. “I would rather have him live mad at me than dead!”

Alphard softly pulls him against his side, hugging just the lightest possible to leave Regulus a way out if needed. “Let me check on that then. I know a spell.”

Regulus hesitates and glances at the cursed letter in hand. Sirius will soon be back home from his short drive with Nathan at some shop for his motorbike. He briskly hands it over before storming upstairs.

When Sirius comes back home, Regulus can hear from his room that Alphard casted the same spells as last time to check on the letter but it has already been a bit teared up probably from the owl’s claws. He isn’t sure if his brother buys it but he climbs up without a complaint. Regulus’ door is open and they see each other but Sirius quickly looks down and slips in his room with the letter in hand.

Regulus purses his lips before sighing and turns back to the writing of his own letter. The one option he really didn’t want to see happen but he supposes this time there is no choice. Even if it means dealing with James Potter regularly. If Sirius and the Marauders are back together– then Regulus, or Meanpouch, will be right there too.

[springsaladgaming]

💗 GROWING HEART - if they have a crush, is it noticable? what changes when they’re in love?

hi, anon!

I reblogged those oc question lists so long ago that I was surprised to get more asks for them. Thanks for including the questions with them and saving me some time!

Alex - I think this depends on so many factors! On the one hand, if the crush is on someone they are very close to, it might be less noticeable because Alex tends to act flirty even in purely platonic situations. On the other hand, they may have other tells that an especially observant person might notice. In general, it's more noticeable if they have a crush on someone they don't know well because they will flirt with them and would not otherwise. In general, Alex might be more touchy or go out of their way to spend more time with a person they are in love with, and these are probably better tells than general flirtatious behavior.

Ansel - When Ansel has a crush, it is not obvious assuming he is actively trying to hide it—he has a pretty superb poker face when he wants to. That said, he wouldn't see much reason to hide a crush on someone unless he thought pursuing anything with that person was a bad idea for whatever reason. Ansel is nice to almost everyone, but he'll be especially doting on someone he's in love with, always checking in during free moments to make sure they are comfortable, fed, and generally taken care of.

Teagan - It's not obvious to anyone else because it's probably not obvious to him either—further complicated by being demiromantic. Teagan generally doesn't experience the 'crushing on someone' phase of emotion, at least not like most people. When any such phase happens, it probably just looks like he's being a good friend, because close friendship is kind of a requirement before he can feel anything romantic for someone. It will be obvious once he's in love, though, because he'll want to spend the majority of his free time around the person he's in love with.

Cherry - Highly variable, I think, depending on who she's crushing on, how badly she wants to hide it, and how badly the other person wants to hide it assuming they reciprocate. Cherry can not only read the emotions of others, she can also adopt them to a certain point. So, for example, if she was crushing on a person who was not interested in her romantically whatsoever, it would be pretty easy for her to just mirror whatever emotions that person has when they are around her and hide her crush that way. So, yeah, highly variable. Figuring out how she feels can sometimes get very sticky and messy. If she's in love, though, I think her own emotions would supersede any that she picks up from the other person, so it would be pretty obvious because she'd often be blushing and awe-struck.

Lucia - She's a bit of a hopeless romantic, so it's probably obvious to everyone. It would take a lot of effort for her to hide a crush if she wanted to, but she probably wouldn't want to anyway. When she's in love with someone, she tends to devote herself wholly to their comfort and happiness—to a fault, really. It's definitely gotten her into trouble in her past major relationship where she was clearly more invested than the other person.

Rene - Middle of the road I guess? If he is crushing on someone, he's likely to just ask them out on some dates to test the waters, so it's obvious in the sense that it's not going to stay hidden for long regardless. When he's in love with someone, he's likely to do a lot of acts of service—little things like making them dinner, cleaning up for them, etc. As an ace-spec person myself, I think that it would all be pretty obvious, but I suppose some people might be looking for clues of sexual attraction, and those won't happen with Rene, so I guess it also depends on what a person considers "big tells."

??? - Assuming the person isn't a threat to her or her family, a crush would be pretty obvious because she is used to "taking what she wants," in a sense. She would make that crush known and only stamp it out entirely if it was unwelcome. She can be a very intense person, so her expressions of love can range from as mundane as "I will make dinner for you (or pay to have someone make dinner for you)" to "i would literally blow up a building for you." If she cares about someone, you'll know it.

thanks so much for the ask! 🧡

[mmm-asbestos]

wrote a little entry for the robot girlies

[VOICE_LOG_ RECORDING_537271]

_ Dr. Eva.

- Yes, darling?

_ ... I have a query. However, the contents of that query are yet to be determined.

- Ha-ha! You have a question but don’t know what to ask? How so?

_ I require further information. …Additional queries.

- How many?

_ Five additional queries.

- So what you have is five queries then. Ask away.

_ Acknowledged. Dr. Eva, what is the purpose of my creation?

- Heh, starting out strong!

_ ...

- ...I’m surprised you even have to ask, darling. Access code zero, one, Delta: initiate playback of your directives.

_ ACCESS GRANTED. RESEARCH, ADVANCEMENT, PRESERVATION OF HUMANITY.

- Well look at that, you can answer your own question!

_ ...Second query: What are your duties in this facility, Dr. Eva?

- A-ah what kind of questions are those? I’m the head of the research department, where you happen to be the main subject of research. I overlook your development and try to make sure you function as intended.

_ How does teaching me human mannerisms fit into your duties?

- Is that a third query?

_ Correct.

- Well, it doesn’t really. I would call it a personal project. My theory is… If I teach you the little things about being human, you may be able to imitate our emotional response; you may be able to "feel". I just think that it would be nice to allow you to feel what I can, you know? 

_ ...Why do you think it's "nice"?

-  ...Darling?

_ Query playback: Why do you think it's "nice"?

- ...Well...You see... It might make you feel good, make you feel happy. I want you to feel happiness too, I suppose.

_ ...I see.

- ...

_ ...

- ...So, I believe you still have one additional query, if I counted right.

_ Correct. I will now... Proceed...

- Oka-ay.

_ ...Do you love me?

- …Wh-?!

_ ...

- I- Well! Um… Ha-ha...

_ ...

- You see.. Sigh. Okay. You see, love is a very complicated concept, but you can't just ask people if they love you without context, you know? They will assume you have romantic intent, while you probably meant platonic and-

_ No.

- ...

_ Do you experience the feeling of romantic love towards me, Dr. Eva?

- !...

_ ...

- I-... Hm... I-... I love you as my creation.

_ ...I see.

- ...

_ ...My final query is formulated. Request to proceed.

 - ...Right.

- Why have you granted me the ability to feel pain, Dr. Eva?

[RECORDING TERMINATED]

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Gayle!! I'm still fawning over your last cleganMarge drabble, can we get more? Maybe some soft Marge & John with Gale looking on fondly?!

For the final in the first English class Buck takes in college, he has to write an essay defining "True Love."

He sighs when he reads the requirement in the syllabus during the first week. Creative essays have never been his strong suit, and when he sees a term like "true love" he knows he thinks outside the norm.

Not just because he has a legal wife in Marge and a lifetime commitment in Bucky. But because he's never assumed "true love" must mean "romantic."

There was true love between Buck and his crew in the fort. Love built of learning together, of wanting to keep each other safe. of looking the horror of war dead in the eye and surviving.

There's true love between Buck and the Tuskegee Airmen he met at the Stalag. He hates that he met them in such circumstances, but he also knows he likely never would have known them without those circumstances. It makes the love simple--soldiers who survived together but complicated--soldiers who weren't allowed to ever serve together.

There's true love between a man and his dog--like Demarco adopting Meatball the moment he met them and tracking down an oxygen mask so he can make it to England. Meatball, well-loved and cared for by the rest of the boys after Buck and Demarco went down, who was confused on his first sniff of Demarco after the camp and then turned into a giant puppy after it seemed to work through his brain who it was.

There's true love between people who have been together but separated for an entire war, like Rosie and Ken. Who made it through the worst of everything with one always going up and nearly dying, and the other on the ground and trying to ignore the fear in his belly about what could happen.

And, okay, that last one is romantic, but it's not the expected romantic.

Buck looks up from the smudged notes he's made on a piece of notebook paper. He's at the desk in the living room. It's set up near the front wall of the house, so Buck can sit with the door in view but also see the whole living room.

The record player is turned low, humming slow love songs into the room. Bucky and Marge are in the open part of the room in the middle, swaying to the song that's currently playing. Bucky's wearing green and white pajamas with little black swirls on a white background. Marge had come home two weeks ago, delighted to have found the material on sale.

"I have found you the ugliest pajama pattern," she'd said to John, throwing her arms over his shoulders and the fabric onto his lap.

"Oh, my god, that's hideous!" John had replied, turning to kiss Marge on the cheek. "Buck! Look! It's terrible!" He'd said and held it up so Buck could see it.

"Honey, that's a new low," Buck had said and pulled Marge into his lap when she'd scurried over to kiss him.

"I found you a very nice plaid," she says, her nose wrinkling in pleasure. "Blue and green. Very respectable."

And Buck had laughed. She'd been so happy, finding them each what they'd like the most.

And now Bucky is dancing with Marge while wearing that terrible pattern in pajamas. Marge had made the collar out of a complimentary green, then embroidered John's initials in a shockingly awful bright pink.

And she's wearing the peach-pink silk nightgown Buck bought her when he and Buck were in Paris after it was liberated.

"It's real silk, Buck," Bucky had said. "I know she already agreed to marry you, but come on, seal the deal."

"You are the seal to the deal," Buck had replied, and Bucky's shy, blushing pleasure at that had made him laugh and pick a nightgown he wouldn't have picked without Bucky there to help.

Buck watches them, dancing close and slow, both of them smiling. In their pajamas and in the middle of the living room. No shame or concern about Buck seeing them. Knowing it makes him happy to see it.

He looks at his smudged notes and turns to a clean page.

The pajamas are made from a sewing pattern picked up just before the war ended. The material was on sale and the pattern unpleasant if one doesn't care for modern design.

"Darling, it's perfect," he says, seeing his favorite shade of green alongside the loud pattern. "Promise me you'll monogram them."