#im back from the dead though

[can-of-slorgs]

I'm personally blaming @starbiology and everyone who has reblogged or commented the other piece for this.

Bonus comic featuring my grundo:

[littleliterarylesbian]

Dear, James -4

| part 1 part 2 part 3

Harry has seen his Papa in many states before, whether he remembers them or not is different, but he knows he was there.

He has never seen Papa as angry as he is now, clutching at the front door, rage rolling off him in the form of magic, causing the ceramic key and trinket holder near the door to crack and the wood under his feet to splinter. He can see how Papa is clutching at the door so hard his fingers turn white as he peaks into the front hallway.

Papa told him to stay in the kitchen, to continue eating, but he didn't listen, shoveling in the last of his cereal so it didn't get soggy in the milk before he carefully walked to the front door. Harry can't see who's past the door, Papa has the door mostly closed and his body in the opening. He wants to know so badly, he itches for it, but Papa always said that curiosity isn't a good thing. But Papa is also very angry right now, and maybe Harry can get a kick in before he's sent to his room...

"I heard of what happened... Mr.Black" The voice of the stranger paused between the words oddly, and Harry watched as the wood on the door started to peel from where his Papa was gripping it.

"Sadly I still insist, you have the wrong house. Please get off my property." Harry can see how Papa's jaw clenches, and well, Papa is wrong, he is a Mr.Black, and he did also get fired from his job recently. It was upsetting, but as Papa said, they still had enough money so that Harry could have seven children and those seven could have seven children each and they'd still be comfortable for life and then some.

He doesn't want to have seven kids though, but that's not important.

"I don't believe I am ever wrong," The voice said, and Harry wrinkled his nose. Apparently Papa has the same reaction because when he opened his mouth to speak, the stranger spoke again.

Harry is glad they have magic, as the ceramic piece by the door finally shattered, keys and rings and one of his mini plastic dinosaur from several years ago that he keeps forgetting about scattering along the surface of the hall table.

"You're son is very like you, despite appearances." Shit. Caught. He tried to shuffle back to where he wouldn't be seen, but Papa turned his head too quickly, a glare being pinned on him, and Harry couldn't help to shuffle in place before rushing up to his parent's side, holding the back of Papa's shirt. He's been caught already, why not ride it out?

"Get off of my property." Harry nods enthusiastically, frowning at the old man in front of him because his Papa is right and the man needs to go.

Though the stanger's beard is very long, it's funny, the grey compared to the colorful... something or other that the man is wearing. He still isn't welcome hear though.

"I have a job opening for you, Mr.Black." The man says and Papa rolls his eyes, groaning, giving up all pretenses of pretending. Harry would have kept with it though, if he was Papa, just until the man gave up.

"Oh? What a coincidence. I just get fired from my job as an astronomy professor and suddenly you're here, telling me you can solve my problems." Harry has to fight down a smile at his Papa's tone. So sassy.

The stranger raises an eyebrow, and Harry can feel the anger flare again, so he tries his best, leaning against Papa and he thinks it works. He can't feel it much anymore, but Papa is still so angry.

"I wouldn't know what you are implying Mr. Black."

"Really." Papa doesn't ask a question, keeping his glare and, personally, is Harry was in the strangers position he would have already been sent up to his room.

"I believe it would be best to talk about inside however." The stranger smiles and Harry can't point it out, he's never been too good at that, but it doesn't feel like a nice smile. Harry doesn't know how that's possible.

"How about you go and suck the dick of the lover you left rotting in prison again." Harry should tell Papa to put a coin in the swear jar, but he holds it in. It can be excused just this once he thinks. Papa deserves a swear once in the while.

The stranger doesn't say anything, just staring and staring until finally Papa bites out a "Fine." and lets the man in.

Harry would have just shut the door on the man, but oh well.

The stranger walks in like he knows where to go already, and after a few seconds Harry is surprised that the man does, walking right past them and going to the sitting room. Papa sighs and turns to Harry.

"I thought I told you to stay in the kitchen."

Harry shrugs, "You were taking too long."

Papa sighs and rolls his eyes, but still kisses the top of Harry's head as he passes while Harry hangs back, looking at what Papa will have to fix later, because despite Harry having a wand already and knowing how to use it, Papa says it's just for emergencies, and a few peeled pieces of wood, a cracked photo frame, and a broken ceramic is probably not an emergency. He bites his lip, but still turns to follow the older two into the sitting room.

When he gets there, Papa is on one side while the stranger is on the other. There's almost like an invisible line across the room and Harry doesn't hesitate before standing next to Papa.

"Did you get the letters?"

"Harry isn't going to Hogwarts."

The man raises an eyebrow as Harry looks up to his parent with a puzzled expression. He knew he wasn't going to Hogwarts, that's not what he's confused about, he already has most of his stuff for Beauxbatons anyways. What he doesn't understand is why the man is bringing it up.

"We need an astronomy professor, and with your recent gap of employment, I thought we could come to a conclusion Mr.Black."

"I'm perfectly fine where I am."

It's silent for a second before the stranger sighs, shaking his head, "I heard that another Mr.Black and a certain Mr.Potter are quite distraught as of late."

Harry watches as Papa stands up straighter, and he can't help the uncomfortable bubbly feeling in his stomach because Papa clearly doesn't like this man, and suddenly he's bringing up people who Harry knows he's related too. They've always been sensitive subjects when it come to his parent.

He looks down and tugs an arm away from being crossed against his chest and holds that hand. He thinks some moral support could help, but Papa still crumbles the same, letting his other arm drop and pushing his shoulders back as he stares at the man.

"What about them?"

Harry knows that his papa still cares about his brother and his ex, but Harry doesn't. He's never even met them for Merlin's sake, they never even bothered to visit or see either of them despite how lonely Papa has been.

Yes, they still have Aunt Pandora and her wife Aunt Lily, along with their daughter who is Harry's best friend, but Harry knows that Papa still misses them, from how he gets caught staring at the letter writing supplies late at night, how even after all this time Papa will stare at a photo album that Harry once managed to sneak a peak into only to see the so called family that left the both of them to fend for themselves. And Aunt Pandora. She was also in the photobook.

The stranger purses his lips, and Harry squeezes on his Papa's hand. "It seems they recently got a letter that was quite disturbing. Left them both in shambles, my dear boy."

Papa wrinkles his nose, but apparently let's whatever comment he had saved up go.

"A letter from the name Regulus Black."

"That's not new." Papa sounds bored, but Harry can tell by the sudden slight squeeze on Harry's hand.

"Ah, my boy, but it is. See, apparently they miss you. I've seen them for years, and despite everything now is the time they seem quite torn up."

Papa lets out a breath of air and Harry watches as his free hand clenches. He's almost tempted to reach over and hold that one too, but then he wouldn't be able to frown at the stranger. Somethings are a higher priority then helping his papa. Like discomforting this random old guy. He doesn't seem to be fazed, but Harry swears it's working.

"If they regretted it, a letter would have sufficed instead of you coming here."

"They believe it's been too late for far too long. I thought I'd go out of my way."

"I'm still not taking your shitty job, I'm fine right here. I can find another if needed."

The stranger walks closer, "Can you truly, Mr.Black?" The way he says it means something that Harry either doesn't know or hasn't caught onto yet, but one look at his parent and it seems like he's the only one, face paler then normal, eyes slightly wide as he stares as the other man. A noise of confusion escapes him and Papa's head shoots down, looking at him for a second before turning back.

"I can, I know I can."

The stranger smiles a little, like something Papa said was funny, and now the weird feeling in Harry's gut traveled up to his chest. What does the man mean? Why is he hurting Papa in their own home? Sure it might not be physically, but that's not the only way someone can hurt. He knows that, so why doesn't the stranger? Is it because that is what he is? Nothing but a stranger?

Papa's jaw clenches and his eye twitches in a way Harry doesn't think he's seen before, "What did you do?" The stranger doesn't answer though, smiling the same weird smile as he has in the past before speaking himself, already moving out of the room.

"I'm sure you'll make the right choice my boy."

Papa is still standing there as the front door shuts and Harry finally asks the question that has been on his mind since he saw the man.

"Who was that?"

| part 1 part 2 part 3

[koszmarnybudyn]

I wish they got to grow up happy :(

Anyway this is probablly part one of four where i draw the teens post canon/older.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

oooo it's been a while since the last snippet :]c it's another fantasy au one where I'm! Putting! Barnaby! Through It!

a minor warnings: implied/referenced major character death <3

 No one eats dinner, and Frank won’t stop tapping his spoon against his bowl. Tok tok tok it goes, over and over again.

Poppy made a simple stew from their provisions, but only Eddie and Sally make an attempt at tasting it. Their halfhearted ‘it’s good’s don’t pierce the pressure weighing down on them all. Barnaby swears he can taste it, thick and cloying. 

Already he keeps catching himself looking for Wally. Where is- he starts to think, and then he remembers the moment Wally fell with a spear piercing his chest, and the grief rises so fast it nearly drowns him in a heartbeat. Barnaby can’t bring himself to try and hide it behind anything but a stony mask. In any other situation he might try to put some levity into the group. Cheer up the sad and empty faces staring into their meals. 

He wouldn’t be able to think of a single lighthearted thing even if he wanted to. He doesn’t.

Tok tok tok-

Shuffling from Howdy’s tent has everyone glancing over at it, and Frank’s spoon stills. Howdy briefly woke up while Poppy was cooking. All he did was sit up, look at everyone, then pitch to the side and vomit. They got him into a tent before he passed out again, mumbling something about puppets. Frank made a comment about how Howdy was supposed to be a bit out of it, not at fae-drunk levels of hazy. Eddie had muttered back a dejected apology, and after that the camp was silent until Poppy’s announcement that dinner was ready. The spoon continues tapping when the shuffling stills.

Tok tok tok-

Since Eddie and Sally saying that dinner is good, there hasn’t been a noise beyond the occasional sniffle. It’s a good thing Julie isn’t trying her stew - it must be disgustingly salty from all the tears dripping into it. 

Tok tok tok-

Barnaby sighs through his nose and puts his bowl down, sick of looking at everyone’s misery. He would say that he’s going to go sleep, but he has a feeling that none of them are getting a wink tonight. 

Tok tok-

Before he can stand, Frank blurts, “We shouldn’t have attacked it. It was a mistake.”

“Please don’t,” Julie begs.

“There’s no need to rub salt in the wound,” Sally says firmly, her stew starting to sizzle from the rising heat in her hands.

“Not right now, Frank,” Eddie mutters. 

Frank visibly bristles, and he launches to his feet. “I refuse to pretend not to have seen what I did! The truth is a terrible thing, but someone needs to say it. Wally lied to us.”

“Frank…” Barnaby warns.

“We shouldn’t have attacked the demon,” Frank barrels on, ignoring him, “because there was no need to. It didn’t eat Wally until the end because the demon is his patron. Wally was never a wizard at all, he was a warlock-”

Barnaby lunges with a deep bark that echoes against the trees. The crickets symphony falls silent. Frank trips backwards over his seat, staring up with wide eyes as Barnaby stalks around the fire, growling. Eddie and Sally slowly stand, inching between him and Frank. 

Barnaby stops, snout bunched and canines bared. He jabs a claw at Frank. “Don’t you ever say that again. Ever.”

Frank’s mouth flaps uselessly for a moment. When he speaks, it comes out as a whisper, “I’m-”

“If you end that with right instead of sorry, I’ll make damn sure that you are.”

Frank wisely keeps his mouth shut. The crickets continue chirping.

Barnaby glares at him until Frank looks away. Barnaby straightens his vest with a sharp tug and strides away from the fire, towards his and- his tent. Just his, now. Murmuring breaks out at his back. He yanks the flap open, grabs his pipe and herb pouch, and heads towards the forest. He pauses only to listen by Howdy’s tent, waiting to hear proof of life before continuing on.

Once he can’t see the firelight anymore, Barnaby chooses a random tree and sits heavily in front of it. Rough bark digs into his back through his vest. A night bird hoots overhead. Crickets continue to make their music, but Barnaby wishes they would shut up for good. 

Light from the full moon pours through the branches to provide just enough light to see by. Barnaby holds up his pipe and quickly puts it to the side to take off a grimy glove. The heart-pad and blue fur underneath contrasts vibrantly with the dust-grayed rest of him. After a moment he removes the other glove, wincing as the leather drags over his injured knuckles. He turns his paw over and scowls at the dirty black edges of the red-raw scrapes. He should have punched harder. He hopes it scars, even though he knows it won’t.

The gloves themselves are scuffed up, but not beyond use. Barnaby folds them into his pocket and gets to work lighting his pipe. He packs it and instinctively opens his mouth to ask Wally to light it for him. The words die on his tongue as he turns only to see dark forest. Empty woods save for the tiny blue lights of night wisps floating on the breeze. 

Barnaby stares into the darkness with yawning dread. He keeps looking. How long will it take him to stop? How long until Wally’s face starts to smudge in his memories, until his voice is gone and Barnaby doesn’t even remember what his smile looked like? How long until Barnaby only thinks of him in passing? 

He doesn’t want to reach that point. He desperately does. 

Will it hurt more or less? Does it matter? He wants it to ache until he dies.

Barnaby frantically fishes his sparkrune out of the herb pouch - only there for emergencies, when Wally or Sally isn’t there to light it for him. It will wear down to a nub within the month. He strikes his thumb claw against it, and sparks fly expertly into the bowl of his pipe. It takes a moment to catch. Barnaby lifts the bit to his lips and takes a drag before enough smoke forms for a lungful. 

Maybe he should have grabbed the stronger stuff. If he breathes enough of it, maybe he’d be able to see Wally. 

But Barnaby doesn’t get up in the end. He sits against the base of a tree and hugs himself, the pipe’s intermittent glow betraying the shine in his eyes.

[lesbianturrets]

Nobody really cares or understands my brain BUT IN THIS CASE I HAVE PROOF!!!

So Mr Mosley right…He’s my bbg in this fandom, my favorite wallflower that I eat bread crumbs of any art of him :’) I have a little headcanon that him and Griffin are besties, and has a queer platonic crush on Lavender (aroace rep) You may be thinking “Charlie that’s stupid” YEAH IK BUT!!!! They’re always together with him!

Exhibit A with Lavender

Exhibit B with Griffin

(And then we also have them 3 together too pssstt)

YES I HAVE CRUMBS OF BACKUP INFO BUT IDC MOSLEY IS MY BLORBO AND I’LL MUSH THEM TOGETHER …I swear I’m not insane

[luck-of-the-drawings]

VIOLATOR!! DESECRATOR!! TURN AROUND AND MEET THE HATER!!

VEEERRRY HAPPY WITH WILLIAMS LIL SCARY ARC. HORROR MOVIE BOY. LIL ZOMBIE GUY. UNDEAD AND PIIIISSED OFF LIKE CMAAAHHHNNN I HOPE HE KEEPS THAT CHAINSAW FOREVER. IF YOURE UNDEAD CAN YOU STILL GET A NICOTINE ADDICTION? I SURE HOPE SO!

[redsodaz]

trying to gauge how big of a tumblr population there is for popee the performer before posting anything else related to it in fear of zero attention and embarrassing myself so (hypothetical?) ptp tumblr users pls interact with this post

[shakingparadigm]

Hi ^-^ im not asking you to share screencaps of the content in vivinos patreon because i know they need the funds to produce alien stage but like,,,, can you pls confirm,,,, is it true ivan is confirmed dead,,,,,

I'm sorry friend..... a big theme of alien stage is love and death and how both of those things affect people, so I'm quite sure Ivan is very much dead :( the way Q and V talk about him makes it pretty clear that he's a goner for good too. He'll come back surely, but only in spirit.

[whumble-beeee]

Whumptober 2024 | Day 7 | The Bee's Whumptober Masterlist

SAVE US BOTH

AI-less Whumptober: Field medicine, running out of supplies, “Hold on, we’re going to have to improvise.”

Whumptober: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES | Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

Content: war setting, blood/wounds, death/dying motifs

* * * * * * * *

Caretaker let the green of the magical forcefield spread all down their skin like dripping bright green honey made of pure light. They’d be very visible. But that’s okay. Because they’d be safe.

Because what they were about to do was so immensely stupid. But it was necessary, it was so, so necessary. Their heart beat like a drum in their chest. Their nerves were shot through.

They took a deep breath. 

No turning back.

Whumpee needs them.

Then they ran.

Run.

Run. Run run run RUN RUN RUN RUN RUNRUNRUNRURNRUNRUN–

Explosions surrounded them, gunshots CRACK CRACK CRACK BOOMMMMM bright light explosions unsteady ground rumble rumble rumble SHAKE SHAKE BOOOOMMMM.

Their body flew through the air. They SLAM into the packed earth and slick, scratchy grass. Dizzy, dizzy, terrifying, shaking. Where was up or down, where was gravity?

Wait. Slick grass?

Slick?

Caretaker paled as they held up their arm. Then paled. The world shook.

Blood.

Who’s blood?

Who’s blood was this? Was it their own? Who bled here, who died here–?

Doesn’t matter keep moving. Get to Whumpee.

They felt the green glow of their magical shield spread around them once more, bathing the ruby-red marring their skin into a nasty dark black.

Their breath shuddered. Energy drained from their muscles into the brilliant jade.

Their feet pounded against the uneven earth, over loose dirt and pot-holes torn out by haphazard grenades, flying through the grass as bullets whizzed past their ears and plinked off the brilliant sparkling green.

To Whumpee.

Lying barely shaking and fatally wounded in the grass. 

Caretaker dove over them and crashed into the ground hard, bitlets of dirt pelting their face, grinding between their teeth, penetrating into their eyes and blinding them.

They pushed up and clawed at the mewling Whumpee, and Whumpee seized in terror, but Caretaker didn’t stop other than to scream “Whumpee, help me!” over the roaring gunshots and agonized voices shouting orders and pleading for mercy as they spread their jade forcefield over both their entire bodies.

Ba-bump.

Fatigue slammed into their chest like a freight train. They kept going.

Forcefield stuttered.

They barely managed to drag the catatonic Whumpee through the tall blood-shining grass and behind a rock that barely covered them both before the forcefield spluttered and faltered it’s last dying, shaking tendrils of protection before winking out of existence. But they were safe.

BOOOMMMMMM. Gunshots, PLAT PLAT PLAT, screaming, crying, shouting orders, footsteps running, rustling grass and dirt raining from the heavens.

Mostly.

Be-bump, ba-bump.

The world winked out of existence for just a second. Their vision blurred, pressure grasped their head on their head like an unyielding metal claw, metallic wires shooting through the top of their mouth and they couldn’t catch their breath. 

So tired. Running out of time.

Save Whumpee.

“WHUMPEE!!” they cried, screaming with all their might in Whumpee’s face. Their eyes barely opened.

Their jacket and shirt were practically ripped to shred, their body showcasing the finest of shrapnel bathed in the slick red liquid of life.

It was a wonder they were still alive. Caretaker nearly collapsed in relief. 

“Whumpee! I’m here to save you!” they shouted. So warped, they could barely hear themself, it was as if everything was underwater.

Whumpee said something back. Dazed, quiet.

“WHAT?!”

Whumpee clenched their teeth, and only then did Caretaker realize they there were teartracks running down their blood- and dirt-stained face.

“I’M NOT GONNA MAKE IT!! SAVE YOURSELF!!”

A desperate attempt to push Caretaker off. Caretaker barely even had to fight to keep both of them safely behind the rock.

BOOOOM!!

“I’m NOT LEAVING YOU TO DIE!!”

They scrambled through their medic box. Wrapped bandages where they could, taking the blood-soaked ones away, applying slave, new bandages, how were these bandages already soiled with blood?? So much blood too much blood, they were losing too much blood, more blood, more salve, more bandages, JUST STAY ALIVE–

Out. 

They didn’t have enough. 

They tried to stop the bleeding with what little magic they could muster, the light green tendrils snaking up and down Whumpee’s body and seeping into their wounds. They winced. They shook. 

The blackness encroached Caretaker, threatening to swallow them whole

Their brilliance faded. 

Not enough.

Not nearly enough.

No.

No. NO NO NO NO SHIT FUCK SHIT THEY NEEDED TO MAKE IT OUT OF THIS–

Idea.

A terrible, horrible, batshit insane idea that would get them both killed.

But they were both dead anyway.

Whumpee could get them out. They were stronger, they were the soldier. Caretaker was just a medic. 

A medic with magic.

Whumpee could save them both.

“WHUMPEE!!” Caretaker screamed. Whumpee’s eyes fluttered open again. They cringed and curled in on themself, around the new blood-soaked bandages and the healing salve and the shrapned invading their chest.

Tears ran down their face. They cried in earnest now as they stared up into Caretaker’s fiercely caring, pleading eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” They screamed, shoving their face into Caretaker's chest so they didn’t have to witness their twisted face of death. 

Maybe caretaker wouldn’t have to watch the light leave their eyes when they died. Whumpee could see the light beckoning them now–

“NO!!” Caretaker screeched, clutching Whumpee’s head to their chest even further, fisting thw hair in the tightest embrace, holding them like they would never hold each other again. 

Because honestly? Who knew if they ever would?

“I’M SORRY! I’M SO SORRY! PICK UP WHERE I’M LEAVING OFF!!” They cried into Whumpee’s hair.

“SAVE US BOTH!!”

The battlefield glowed green as Caretaker unleashed every ounce of magic they ever could have stored in their body into Whumpee, green tentacles of the most brilliant lime and jade and forest and honeydew spread and writhed across the entire battlefield, before arcing up into a single point and diving straight down from whence they came.

Whumpee’s skin, their clothes, their very being glowed brighter than Caretaker could have ever seen, pushing back the blackness for just a moment as they shook and spasmed in Caretaker’s arms.

Then the black won over. 

Caretaker went limp.

* * * * * * * *

Whumptober Taglist: @whumperofworlds | @whumptober-archive | @regular-whump-sfx

(If you wanna be added or subtracted from the taglist, don't be afraid to ask!)

[syubub]

hello? what year is it?

[wolfeyedwitch]

When it's 3 years after the fact and you realize that you accidentally helped a friend name a character Tim Drake.

*facepalm*

To be fair, it's a nickname? But still. When my friend went "hey what should my character Septimus's last name be?"

I said "Drake," because fantasy setting, and it sounds cool, and why not.

It wasn't until later that we got into the whole "Septimus is kind of a mouthful, what would people actually call him?"

And that's when Tim came up as a nickname.

And I put NONE OF THIS ALL TOGETHER until just recently when reading Batfam fics because that's the rabbit hole my current fandom fixation went down via crossover introductions a la dpxdc.

I think I need to go hide in shame now.

[her-canine-teeth]

bad astrology by flower face

[gimmick-blog-stimboards]

💢 ⏤ @tsunderedetector STIMBOARD // #10 🎀

[ REQUESTED! ]

🌸 | 🎀 | 🌸 🩰 | 🌟 | 🩵 🌀 | 🎀 | ☁️

[minakoaiinos]

Me when I think my dad is cool and admirable

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

Update on how reading Thrawn: Alliances is going

I am s t r u g g l i n g to finish it..im barely past halfway

[loveologystudies]

so uh. episode 6 huh