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moons-and-mobility-aids · 1 month ago

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Muggle Pills

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: The boys learn what your pills do. [wordcount: 3.3k words] Tags: fem!reader, wheelchair user!reader, medicine, medical history (in this series, reader has POTS, cerebral palsy, hypermobility, allodynia, swelling, epilepsy, depression, PMDD) Series Masterlist

You sit cross-legged on the plush carpet of your bedroom floor, a small pile of pill boxes scattered around you. Your fingers move with practiced ease as you sort the pills into their respective compartments in a weekly divider—Monday through Sunday, morning, noon, and night.

It's a routine task, one that offers a strange sense of solace amidst the chaos of everything else. Plus, it saves you from the struggle of prying open blister packs every day.

Around you, the Marauders lounge about as if this were any other lazy afternoon. Sirius flips idly through a Quidditch magazine, his brows furrowing at an article about the latest racing broom. James lies sprawled out across your bed, tossing a Quaffle up and down while he debates strategy. Remus sits quietly in a corner, engrossed in a book, a sliver of sunlight illuminating the dust motes dancing around him. Your room has become their second home, just as comfortable and familiar as their dormitory.

They've grown accustomed to these quiet moments together, each occupied with their own thoughts or interests. And yet today, something shifts. A question hangs in the air, unspoken but palpable.

James is the first to break the silence, his voice cutting through the soft hum of activity. "Y/N?" He pauses, catching himself before the words tumble out unchecked. His gaze flickers over to where you sit, still dividing your medication for the week ahead. "Why... why do you take all those? Like, on top of the potions?"

For a moment, time seems to stretch thin, the seconds elongating as you weigh your answer. They've seen you like this before—pills in hand, water glass nearby—but never asked. Not until now. Something about the directness of the question gives you pause, but then you realize: they deserve to know. Especially now, when lines have blurred and friendships have blossomed into something more intimate, more profound.

"Right," you begin, letting out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. Your fingers trace the edge of the first pill box—a small, round tablet that's more crucial to your daily life than any potion or spell could ever be. "This one is for my blood pressure."

James, Sirius and Remus lean in closer, their attention rapt despite the seemingly mundane topic. The significance isn't lost on them; every detail about you feels important now, woven into the fabric of their care.

"It's always been too low," you explain, eyes downcast as if you're sharing some great secret. Perhaps it is, in its own way. An admission of frailty, of the battle you wage within your body each day. "If I don't take this, I get dizzy... faint sometimes."

A flicker of understanding passes across James's face, then Sirius's. They've seen you like that before, pale and unsteady in the corridors during your early years at Hogwarts. At the time, they'd chalked it up to nerves or fatigue—anything but a chronic condition. But now...

"Wait," Sirius says, his voice rough with concern. "Are those fainting spells why you had to go back to the hospital wing so often?"

You nod, a hint of relief washing over you. It's easier than you thought it would be, opening up about this part of your life. Maybe because they listen without judgement, accepting each revelation as another piece of the puzzle that is you.

"Yes. That was before I started taking this," you say, tapping the pill box lightly.

Sirius leans back slightly, processing this new information with a furrowed brow. He opens his mouth to speak again, but Remus beats him to it.

"Do you still feel like you might pass out even with the medication?" His tone is gentle yet probing, respectful of your boundaries but curious all the same.

"Sometimes." You shrug, trying to downplay the gravity of what living with such unpredictability means. "But it's better than before."

Remus nods, storing away this tidbit of knowledge like he does with everything else. He understands, perhaps better than anyone, what it means to navigate the world with a body that doesn't quite cooperate. And while your experiences are vastly different, there's a silent kinship in shared struggle—a bond forged through resilience and endurance.

"Next is this one." Your fingers move to a different compartment, closing around another pill. "It's for my heart rate."

Their brows furrow almost in unison, confusion etching lines across their young faces. You suppose it must be strange for them, hearing about the inner workings of your body when all they've ever known are charms and potions, Quidditch injuries and common colds.

"But isn't that connected to your blood pressure?" James asks, his forehead creased as he tries to make sense of it all.

"In a way, yes," you explain, appreciating his attempt to understand. "But while the first medication helps raise my blood pressure, this one keeps my resting heart rate from getting too high."

"That doesn't sound pleasant," Sirius chimes in, leaning back against the couch with a sigh. Although he's always been more comfortable with banter than serious conversations, there's an earnestness in his expression that speaks volumes about how much he cares.

"It's not something I feel most of the time," you admit, setting the second pill aside. "I don't really notice unless I forget to take it or if I'm especially stressed out. But without it, my heart behaves like I'm running even when I'm sitting still."

You let the implication hang in the air, a testament to the silent battles waged beneath your skin. A hush falls over the room, punctuated only by the occasional crackle of the fire. The boys exchange glances, each processing your revelation in their own way. From the corner of your eye, you see James run a hand through his already messy hair, a gesture betraying his unease.

"I remember once," you begin again, your voice barely above a whisper, "I got a concussion in school, no big deal but headed the A&E to be checked out, and I ended up being admitted because my heart rate was over 180 beats per minute and wouldn't come down. They were so alarmed, kept asking me if I felt okay..."

The memory is vivid, etched into your mind with sharp clarity. The steady beep of monitors, the worried faces of doctors—reminders of just how fragile human bodies can be.

"And did you?" Sirius interrupts, his grey eyes reflecting the flickering flames.

"Did I what?"

"Feel okay? Or were you..." He trails off, unable to finish the sentence. It's clear to see why; the notion of such turmoil within you, unbeknownst to them until now, is unsettling to say the least.

"I mean, my head was killing me but otherwise, I felt fine," you state, "but that doesn't mean it's safe to ignore."

There's a pause as they digest your words, the gravity of what you're sharing settling heavy in the silence. Remus shifts slightly beside you, his gaze thoughtful. As ever, he seems to carry an understanding beyond his years—a quiet wisdom born from living in the shadows.

"When we were in the hospital wing together in first and second year—you know, after the full moon and your... episodes," he begins cautiously, mindful of the delicate territory he's treading on. "Was this part of it? Your heart thing?"

You shake your head, offering him a small smile. "While I did have the heart rate as a problem, that's not why I was there."

Remus nods slowly, absorbing this new information. His brow furrows, not in judgement but in concern—a silent question lingering behind his amber eyes. How much more is there to learn?

"Right," you say, moving on to the next pill. It's a small orange capsule and looks innocuous enough, but its role is no less vital than the others. "This one's for my epilepsy."

"Epilepsy?" James blurts out, his eyes widening at the revelation.

You nod, acknowledging his surprise with a wry smile. "It helps prevent seizures. But it's not foolproof. I regularly have atonic seizures still, they only last a few seconds and nothing needs to be done with those. I don't really have big ones anymore, but when I get sick or stressed—or before I got my implant, when I had my period—I can still have them."

The room goes quiet, save for the crackling of the fire in the background. Sirius and James exchange glances, their expressions mirroring the unease that hangs in the air.

"How long have you..." James starts, then clears his throat, struggling to find the right words. "How long have you had epilepsy?"

"Basically my whole life," you answer simply. "But it's mostly managed now. The stress of exams and assignments can trigger the big seizures sometimes, but most people don't notice."

Sirius frowns, running a hand through his hair. "Have you had any since getting with us?"

"I mean, I've had little ones but not any big ones." You reach over to squeeze his hand reassuringly before letting go. "But during last year, I did have several because of the stress of OWLs."

His grip tightens around yours, concern etched into every line of his face. It's strange, seeing Sirius so unguarded, his usual bravado replaced by raw vulnerability. But then again, nothing about this situation is ordinary.

"You never told us," James says quietly, meeting your gaze with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt. He's not accusing, merely stating a fact—one that seems unthinkable given how close you all are.

"I didn't want to worry you, you were just my friends then," you admit, looking down at your hands. "Besides, you three were so focused on your own exams. You wouldn't have noticed even if you tried."

There's truth to your words, but they do little to ease the guilt that flashes across James's features, and Sirius remains silent, his grey eyes clouded with thought. Both boys are processing this new information, trying to reconcile the image of you—a force of nature, unbowed despite everything—with the reality of your condition.

Remus, who has been listening silently, finally speaks up. "I remember... those nights in the hospital wing when we were younger. I'd be in there because of the full moon, you'd be there because of a seizure…"

"Or worse," you say, almost to yourself. "To be honest, I was also there because no one trusted that I wouldn't try to kill myself, and no healer or doctor would give an 11-year-old birth control for their PMDD. I got the implant at 14, and the seizures went away with my period, as did the temptation to kill myself."

James blinks, stunned into silence. "I never knew any of this," he says at last, his voice barely above a whisper.

"By the time we became proper friends, I already had the implant. There was no reason to tell you about something that was no longer a problem." You give him a reassuring smile.

James nods slowly, although the concern has not entirely left his eyes. Sirius, too, seems pensive as he stares into the fireplace, blowing out a slow breath. Only Remus appears unchanged, his expression calm and thoughtful, as if the revelations were expected.

"Right," you say, taking a deep breath as you reach for the final pill box, a small white container that holds a different kind of lifeline. "This one's my antidepressant."

The change in atmosphere is almost palpable as James and Sirius stiffen beside you. Remus, ever the stoic observer, merely watches.

"Is that... because of everything else?" asks Sirius tentatively, his grey eyes searching yours for answers. You can tell he's treading carefully now, aware that this conversation has ventured into territory far more delicate than any duel or prank gone wrong.

"Yeah," you reply, letting out a long exhale. "It helps manage the lows, but it's not foolproof. Nothing really is."

James's thumb brushes over the back of your hand, tracing patterns there as if trying to will away the pain etched between your words. He doesn't speak, but his silence carries its own weight, heavy with understanding.

"You're not always..." James starts, then stops, uncertain how to phrase his question without sounding insensitive.

"Depressed?" you finish for him, offering a wry smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Not always, no. But when I am... well, let's just say it's better for everyone involved that I have these."

Your fingers tap against the pill bottle, the sound echoing lightly through the room.

A moment passes before Sirius breaks the silence. "And do they work? The pills, I mean." There's a hopeful note to his voice, laced with a quiet desperation that mirrors the way his eyes never leave your face.

"For the most part," you admit. "But like I said, they're not perfect. They help keep things under control, but they don't make my symptoms go away entirely. And some days are harder than others."

You pause, considering how best to explain what living with depression feels like—the relentless heaviness that often threatens to pull you under despite the medication designed to keep you afloat.

"It's like walking through a storm," you say finally. "Most days, the meds are like a good coat—they keep the worst of the rain off. But sometimes the storm gets too strong, and all the coat can do is stop you from getting completely soaked."

"Merlin," James breathes, running a hand through his hair as he processes your words. "Have you been dealing with all this since..."

"Birth?" you supply, nodding once. "Pretty much, yeah."

"Since you were a baby?" Sirius asks, his voice rough with disbelief. "How long have you been taking all these pills?"

"I was little when I was put on the epilepsy meds," you admit, "but the others were added as new conditions developed."

"And what happens if you forget to take one?" James's tone is gentle, but there's an underlying urgency that betrays his worry. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well, missing a dose here and there isn't the end of the world, usually." You shrug, trying to make light of it, though the truth is more complex. "But if I go too long without them... Let's just say it can lead to some serious complications."

Remus watches you, his gaze steady and thoughtful. "It must be exhausting," he says quietly, "keeping track of all this, making sure you're always taking the right thing at the right time. Especially with the potions you use for your pain."

"It's a lot," you agree, not seeing any point in denying it. "But the alternative..." Your voice trails off as you picture yourself without the medication: the pain, the fatigue, the despair. "Let's just say I'm grateful for muggle and wizarding medicine, even if it doesn't fix everything."

The words hang heavy in the air, a quiet echo of your confession ringing in the stillness of the room. The boys sit with straight spines and furrowed brows, each processing what you've just shared in their own way. For a moment, no one speaks, the silence filled only by the crackling fire and the soft patter of rain against the window.

The world of pills and doctors is foreign to them, so far removed from the magical healing they know. They are warriors in their own right, but this is a battle they do not understand, cannot see. It's in the lines that etch deeper into Sirius' forehead, the way his fists clench at his sides—not with anger towards you, but with a burning frustration for an enemy he cannot confront.

"I can't believe we didn't know," James finally breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. It's not an accusation, merely a statement laced with self-reproach. But there's no need for you to respond; the truth of it hangs in the air around you. How could they have known? You've become a master at concealing the extent of your pain, hiding behind masks of normalcy even when your body screamed otherwise.

Sirius shifts slightly, and his voice is quiet when he finally breaks the silence, a note of confusion threading through the words.

"Why didn't you say something before?" It's not an accusation, just a question born from concern and a hint of hurt. Sirius has never liked being left in the dark, especially when it comes to those he cares about.

"I didn't want to worry you," your voice barely rises above a whisper, carrying with it a weight that sinks into the silence of the room. "And knowing doesn't change anything." You glance at them, each face mirroring the gravity of your confession. "It's not like any of you can fix it."

James looks as if he wants to argue, to insist that there must be something they can do. But he remains silent, understanding—for now—the boundaries you've put in place. Relief briefly washes over you, even as you see the frustration flicker in his hazel eyes. James has always been a man of action, someone who leaps forward to shield those he loves from harm. To know there's a wound he can't mend must feel like salt on an open cut.

"I don't need you to fix it," you say gently, guessing his thoughts. "I just need you to understand."

Remus nods, his face softening as he speaks for the first time in a while. "And we do," he says quietly, his voice calm and reassuring. "Or at least, we're starting to."

There's a pause as the four of you absorb this shared understanding, a quiet acknowledgement that hangs in the air like a promise. You can almost feel the shift in the room, tangible and real, a subtle strengthening of the bonds between you. They may not fully comprehend your reality, but they're reaching out, trying to bridge the gap. And for now, at least, it's enough.

The fire dances in the hearth, painting the room with flickering shadows and bathing you all in its comforting glow. For a moment, everything else falls away, leaving only the crackling flames, the soft murmur of conversation, and the sense of peace that seems to settle over the world outside.

You finish sorting your pills into their designated compartments, the rhythm of the task grounding you. The lid of the weekly pill organizer closes with a satisfying click, a small victory against the chaos that often threatens to consume you. It’s a simple act, but in these uncertain times, even the smallest semblance of control is a lifeline.

James, ever the man of action even in stillness, shifts on the bed, leaning closer. His voice is a low rumble, steady and sure. "You know we're here, right?" It's not just a question—it's a tether, a lifeline thrown out to you in the darkness. And it's a promise, one that James Potter has every intention of keeping.

Sirius doesn't let himself be left behind, his own hand reaching out to touch yours lightly. There's something almost reverent in the gesture, as if he's afraid you'll shatter at a heavier touch. "We're not going anywhere." The words hang in the air, solidifying into a pact made of iron will and unyielding loyalty. His grey eyes are hard with resolve, the decision made long before the words had even left his lips: He will stay by your side, through this and whatever comes next.

Remus doesn't say anything more, but the silence that stretches between you is far from empty. His gaze never wavers, each exhale a testament to the quiet vigil he keeps. He understands, perhaps better than anyone, the battles waged in silence, the wars fought within oneself. And though he doesn't speak, his presence is a constant reassurance—there, always there, offering strength when yours threatens to wane.

#Poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you #Sirius black x reader #Sirius black x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #james potter x you #james potter x reader #marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfic #meant to be: hogwarts era

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fruitcoops · 9 months ago

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I’d love to see #4 from the list you just reblogged with Sirius shyly offering to give Remus a massage. Maybe he’s realizing just how often Remus puts his old pt skills to use to help him relax and Sirius wants to return the favor?

(4) "Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”. Characters and SW belong to @lumosinlove <3

A palm cupped Remus' ankles and lifted them off the armrest of the couch; the cushion creaked as it dipped beneath new weight, and Remus smiled to himself at the little pat to his calf once his legs had been stretched across something warm and solid.

"Ca va?"

"Tired," he mumbled, flexing his legs as hard as he could until he could tuck his heels into the dip between the couch and Sirius. He shifted once more to adjust his head, then settled.

A huff of breath poorly hid Sirius' amusement. "Clearly."

"Slept funny."

"Aw."

" 'S okay." He didn't bother opening his eyes; Sirius could probably see his small smile. It wasn't like he could help it.

"Sore?"

"Meh."

"I could..."

He trailed off without much fanfare. The sunbeam Remus first spotted through bleary eyes had only grown stronger as the morning progressed, and it warmed his face ever so nicely while Sirius rummaged around for words. After a few minutes of watching dust motes float past through his eyelids, Remus prodded him with a toe. "You could...?"

"Do you--" Sirius' hand found his ankle again. The meat of his palm slotted in next to the knobby bones in a gentle push. "I mean, I could give you a massage."

Remus pressed his smile into the throw pillow before cracking an eye open. "Really?"

Sirius nodded, pink around his nose and cheeks. "Sure."

"You want to?"

"Don't sound so surprised."

"No, it's just--" Ridiculous, he thought to himself, shaking his head around his grin. "Yeah, alright, go for it."

That seemed to please Sirius, judging from the quirk of his lips and the sharp release of tension from his upper back. Remus had never gotten over the habit of checking him over. Checking me out, Sirius would surely tease if he ever said it aloud. It was nice to watch him, though, while he drew Remus' calves more solidly across his lap and began working his way down from knee to ankle. His hands were unpracticed but steady in their slow push-pull.

Remus let all the breath from his lungs and tucked a hand under the pillow. Sirius found a tense spot near his shin and he twitched, but a gentle rub closer to his ankle soothed it. Sirius didn't push at it the way Remus used to with the boys--a sore spot was meant to be worked out, poked until the ache resolved. Remus watched through half-lidded eyes as Sirius tenderly avoided the area, strong fingers and callused palms kneading everywhere but where he had flinched.

The tension came free after a few quiet minutes. Remus didn't say anything, but he basked in Sirius' silent satisfaction like the rising sun.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #short fic #fluff #massage

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guided-by-the-skies · 7 months ago

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Environmental Astro

Ok, my post on astrology and your space was a bit (???) mote popular than I thought, nothing special but didn't realise the topic would attract any interest at all.

I have always tried to read this way (in line with the environment) just because it always made sense to me, I found I couldn't understand astrology out of this context so I got deep into geospatial and geolocational stuff and also reading the energy of places.

🌲 This approach is great for reconnecting to nature especially if you feel nature deprived or even climate anxiety. This can often affect earth and water signs.

🌺 Sacred groves (rings of trees) appear all over europe and had significance in Celtic times in the uk, these can be great places to go and relax at the quarter moon as they normally have loads of dynamic beneficial energy that is not so intense that it brings up unnecessary shadow work

🍁 The age of aquarius is both water and air based, some people are sceptical but could this refer to the huge changes in tech that are taking place and the impact on human consciousness and the natural world? Sometimes things are real but astrology often works in metaphor. There is evidence in the landscape on ley lines, water lines, and so on that our consciousness can affect the landscape and vice versa

🍀 Signs born in winter (maybe sagittarius to pisces) can find they are negatuvely affected by energy in summer, it can be too intense for them. It helps to go near water or other shady, cool, or sacred places such as nearby woods and so on

🍂 Full moon can make all signs more anxious and jittery, it may be tempting to stay in and hole up in your room but this powerful time can amplify shadow work especially if you go for a walk near a body of water.

🌲 The 'dog days' of summer wre recognised by ancient people and coincided with the rising of the star sirius. This came along with periods of stiflingly hot weather. In this period energy can feel stagnant and shadow work is difficult. It can help to travel to different places in this time to combat this.

🌺 Autumn can be a time of great change for all signs but especially earth and fire signs. Being in an urban environment at the time can help with this and bring positive change into your life as urban centres have a greater diversity of different energy

🍁 Train stations and places like airports are ruled by mercury. If mercury is in your inner houses this can lead you to feel overwhelmed or drained after visiting these spaces. If mercury is in your outer houses you may instead feel inspired and energised.

🍂 Pluto placements in any of the inner houses (1-6) can lead you to doing shadow work mostly around your home space ans seeking the outdoor world as a form of distraction.

🍀 uranus placements in your outer houses (7-12) can indicate where and in what field you will manage to challenge the status quo. 11th house can refer to places like coffee shops, bars, and other social spaces. 9th house connects to academic institutions, museums, and libraries. 10th house can cover places of fame and status like concert halls but also those with intense power structures like the business district of a city.

🌲 The 9th house can influence how you respond to places of learning. If you have beneficial 9th house places you may find these environments inspiring. Alternatuvely uranus in the 9th house can lead to feeling stifled in these environments. Mars can lead to conflict and a tense atmosphere while venus can lead to you finding spaces solely transactional but maybe uninspiring (think of a degree or course that is only taught to the book for financial reasons)

🌺 swimming pools, beaches, rivers, the sea, and lakes are all governed by different planets. Pools tend to fall under uranus or neptune depending on the space as they are man made structures.

🍁 as liminal or transitional spaces, beaches connect to the 2nd house as well as the 11th and 9th (travel). they tend to be ruled by different planets based on the individual beach

🍂 rivers have a strong influence from mercury as they are in a sense a form of energy flow/communications in the natural world

🍀 the sea is ruled by the tides and therefore the moon. Your draw to the sea (if you feel this) may be governed in fact by the phases of the moon.

THANK YOU! 🦋HOPE 🦋YOU 🦋ENJOY 🦋

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sundime · 7 months ago

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He thinks of Remus fucking him.

But first he thinks of Remus opening his mouth and talking about Tolkien or oranges or the way the air smells like gesso here. He thinks of the sea in Palermo disintegrating. He thinks of the time they spent inhaling it yesterday, under that fume of terrible pot.

He thinks of the way James would look at him, if he knew. And he thinks that James knows - which would be a conundrum if only it were bigger than the one concerning Sirius thinking of Remus' hipbone between his teeth.

The morning pours in through the windows like lemon juice. Sirius turns over and thinks this - this is what makes him depraved. Remus is baked and sunburnt. It’s horrific. There are flakes of skin peeling off his bronzed shoulders. His neck is red and motes are poking through his cheeks. His eye is pressed against the pillow, his mouth is parted open. An oyster shell. A milky pearl inside.

Sirius’ hair musses over his eyes, but it doesn’t erase it; doesn’t negate the scent of salt that has permeated their bedsheets for the past five days or the feeling of sand between their toes, in their hair.

Remus cracks open an eye, smiling dopily.

“Mm,” he tells Sirius, arm sliding around his waist.

#sirius x remus #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #remus/sirius #sirius/remus #the marauders #marauders #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #Fwb is always the vibe 2 me sorrey #excerpts

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seleneprince · 8 months ago

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File about Severus Snape's werewolf daughter (because she deserves it and I want to do it)

Name: Juliana Eileen Prince

Born: 30 August 1980

Blood status: Pureblood

Nationality: British with Italian roots

Also known as: Julia, Jules, Princess (by Draco), Prince Bastard, that viper (by Sirius Black), Snape's girl.

Species: Werewolf (since birth)

Hair: Ivory black

Eye colour: Onyx black with motes of grey

Family:

Severus Snape (father)

Unnamed werewolf woman (mother, deceased)

Eileen Prince (paternal grandmother, deceased)

Tobias Snape (paternal grandfather, deceased)

Boggart: Her father's corpse

Patronus: Snake

Affiliations: Hogwarts, House Prince, House Malfoy (she's practically one of them), wherever her father is.

House: Slytherin or Hufflepuff

Faceclaim: Jessie Mei Li (Shadow and Bone)

Trivia:

-She's half Asian on her mother's side.

-She's Severus Snape #1 defender and supporter. She adores her dad and will gladly fight anyone that insults him. She's not afraid of facing grown ass men is she sees them disrespecting him.

-House Prince has Roman-Italian roots, so Severus gave her a Latin name that means "woman of strong roots", and it can be abreviated to "Julia", a very common Roman name. Her second name is because Severus wanted to honor his mother but felt that it could be a bad omen giving it as first name. He doesn't want to accidentally curse his child to the same fate.

-She's only called Juliana by the teachers and her father. For everyone else she's mostly Julia. Jules is for friends only.

-To the public, she's considered an illegitimate child from House Prince, an ancient family of purebloods whose line was thought to be extinct.

-Severus wasn't going to ask the Malfoys to be the godparents because he didn't think they would want anything to do with a child with lycanthropy. They were furious at his reasoning and proclaimed that any child of his was considered family to them.

-So yeah Lucius and Narcissa are the godparents, because they wouldn't have it any other way.

-Because of this, Draco and Julia have been practically raised together and share a very close bond.

-He accepts Julia's condition but it doesn't apply for others like her. He's an hypocrite like his parents.

-She has her own room in Malfoy Manor because of how often she has spent the night there, thanks to her father's busy life. They also have a special room for her during the full moon nights.

-The only people that know of her condition are Severus, the Malfoys and Dumbledore.

-Remus finds out as soon as he interacts with her and he's flabbergasted.

-She's been learning Potions ever since she was old enough to hold a spoon. There's no way in hell Severus Snape wouldn't teach his daughter Potions.

-Despite this, her favourite subject is Care for Magical Creatures. She has a knack for it and connects with them better than with humans.

-Regardless of which house she ends up in, she'll be friends with the Slytherins.

-She plays Beater in the quidditch team. It's the only time she doesn't have to worry about her strenght.

-Ron is her favourite of the Golden Trio, but she's interested in Harry's trayectory.

-Really sharp and developed senses. Nothing ever escapes her. She also gets easily overwhelmed the days prior the full moon.

-She's a natural Legilimens like her father, which she found out after accidentally seeing one of his memories once. It was very uncomfortable for both.

-Severus has never told her the whole story with the marauders, only some pieces of it here and there. She knows it from the Malfoys and her own individual research (aka peeking into certain people's minds).

-Because of this, she dislikes Sirius and Remus a lot, specially the first. She doesn't see the point on hating James Potter if he's dead.

-One of the effects of her lycantropy is that she's naturally good with Dark Arts. Might be the only useful and painless thing her condition gave her.

-Her copying mechanism is dark humour, which she started to apply first with her lycantropy. She makes jokes about it and tries to take it with philosophy. She's not asshamed of it.

-She knows how to brew the wolfsbane potion but still prefers when her dad does it.

-At some point she has to share the Shrieking Shack with Lupin for the full moon nights. It makes an awkward experience for both.

-She goes by Prince instead of Snape to hide the fact that she's Severus' daughter. This was decided by Severus himself, to protect her from the danger of being associated with him. Julia isn't fond of this idea, but understands the reasons behind it.

-She doesn't really aprove of Draco's behaviour most of the time, but is too amused by it to stop him. If she really dislikes something he did, she'll play along in public but will chastize him in private. Kinda "I don't agree with you but I'll defend you anyway because we're supposed to be a team".

-She knows more than she should. Severus long gave up on trying to hide anything from her.

(In this AU, lycantropy has nothing to do with AIDs. It's a blood curse that happens to be contagious and, like all curses, it can be passed down to generations)

#all of this is canon because i said so #she's my new babygirl #also i love the Roman-Italian Prince headcanons so this is how it'll be here #so beware that both severus and livia are italian coded #i actually wracked my eyes through pinterest for hours to find the perfect face claim #until jessie mei popped out and she felt just right #she gives sirius and lupin hell when she meets them #she has a sharp tongue like her daddy #severus' werewolf daughter au #severus snape #pro severus snape #my ocs #remus lupin #draco malfoy #harry potter #hp headcanons #ron weasley

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soup-of-the-daisies · 1 year ago

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Grim-Old-Place

Inspired by this post, by @in-flvx. I fuckin LOVE magical homes.

***

Sirius Orion Black is the last of the male line, and Grimmauld Place Number Twelve is his tomb.

It is his home as well, but that’s neither here nor there. Not for Sirius, who sees further than Number Twelve’s façade: he is its Master, was born in the mistress’ bedroom, learnt to crawl and walk and run in its hallways and learnt to whisper and speak and scream through its doorways. Master learnt to read and write in the study its previous Master stayed in until his death, learnt to sit up straight and hold cutlery in the dining room that ends up abandoned, learnt to swallow his emotions down down down like his father before him and his father before him with a parent looming over his tiny human body.

It’s always been this way. Number Twelve knows no better than how his Masters of the Past and Present have been raised, have grown, have pushed their power into the tough-cold-living stone of its cellars. Number Twelve has belonged to the House of Black since before it was built, before it rose up from pre-existing foundations permeated with old magic. It has belonged to the family for generations, and in this day and age, its current Master shall be its last.

Number Twelve shall listen to him. Number Twelve was built to listen, to accomodate, to warp and change to the wishes and whims of its Master. It became a fortress because its previous Master wanted it to, strengthened the wards he weaved by borrowing his willpower—softened its floors when children fell because Master-of-the-Past did not like cries of pain, bore down on unwanted guests because Master-of-the-Past did not like most people. Number Twelve listens and follows both spoken and unspoken orders. That is what it was built for.

Number Twelve is not just a neglected, abandoned family home. It is not dilapidated and haunted just because it was left to rot for so many years, just because its only inhabitant was for nearly a decade was an old elf influenced by an object emanating magic fouler than any kind Number Twelve has ever housed; it is because its current master is unable to imagine it any differently, and Number Twelve adapts accordingly, because Number Twelve listens.

Master is the last bearing his last name, the last of the male line, and the House of Black is forgotten glory. It is a family that has sunken down from their presumed superior position like a rock hurled into deep waters. How else would this decline present, than decaying walls and festering infestations of vermin? Number Twelve is Master’s prison and it morphs itself into one, turns its air oppressive and its temperature down low, narrows its winding corridors and shrouds itself in misery.

Number Twelve becomes the representation of Master’s biological family, gone and dead-won’t-stay-dead, because Master sees Number Twelve as such. Ghosts creep behind ratty curtains and loom in shadowed corners, become mirages by moonlight and play in the motes of dust, and Number Twelve lets them because this is what Master thinks, what Master says. When Master’s mood drops, so does Number Twelve’s, because when Master is saddened and angered he thinks, deep down, that these other residents ought to be uncomfortable and irritable as well. When Master’s mood becomes cheerful, Number Twelve dutifully pushes the joy into its floorboards and walls, as Master wishes to share his happiness and Number Twelve gladly helps. Number Twelve locks doors when Master does not want to see the residents who are filling Number Twelve with life and Number Twelve changes its layout when Master does not want to be found. Number Twelve was built to listen to and follow orders, and it will do that until it falls apart. What Master wants, Master gets.

Number Twelve does not appreciate the other residents when they upset Master. Number Twelve does appreciate the other residents’ attempts to clean its rooms, wishes it could show how grand and beautiful it used to be and can be. But Master thinks cleaning to be a lost cause, so Number Twelve ensures it is a lost cause: it presses dust out of the smallest corners without any trouble, and it delights in Master’s delight when the other residents feed their frustration into its walls.

Number Twelve listens and acts. Master refuses to look in mirrors lest he see something he does not want to, so Number Twelve darkens them, dirties them, ruins them until they cannot be fixed. Master believes and does not want to be disproven about the hatefulness of the elf, so Number Twelve does not even attempt to improve the relationship. The elf was the one to bring the foul and dirty object through the very wards Master-of-the-Past erected to keep such magic out anyway, and Number Twelve is old enough, fed enough, to hold a grudge. Master’s joy, even if it is tainted by grief and ire, is Number Twelve’s joy. Number Twelve is, after all, simply glad to have a Master.

It has always been this way, even if it is different now, with a Master so similar yet so different to Master-of-the-Past. A fortress and a tomb are synonyms in the loosest definition, and Grimmauld Place Number Twelve now has a Master who sees it as his tomb: as Number Twelve cannot begrudge its Master anything, it will be a tomb. But Master sees it as his home too, deep down, and Number Twelve was built to be a home.

It will adapt accordingly.

#sirius orion black #grimmauld place number twelve #grimmauld place #noble and ancient house of black #drabble #harry potter meta #ish #hp fanfic #most noble and ancient house of black

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thesiriusconstellation · 2 months ago

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Welcome to our system blog! We accept asks and requests anything related to system, plurality, and occasional kin and LGBTQIA+ help!

Hailey's blog is more kin and LGBTQIA+ help focused go to her blog if you wish to get kin and LGBTQIA+ help -> @hazelnut-hearts

We also make emojis! Our emoji blog -> @sirius-motes

We collectively use No prns, They/Them, and Star/Stars pronouns and collectively use the names Sirius, Canis Major [or just Canis], and Rowan.

Feel free to pop into our askbox with questions, requests, or to spread positivity! If you send hate you will be blocked and the ask will be deleted [yes, even if you're an anon]

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Please note we are traumaendo and pro-endo. Do not harass us nor anyone on here you will be blocked.

Thank you.

Our Members! We are all marked with either our symbol or emoji

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Headmate Blogs

Check out our pronouns.cc and our carrd.co

Credits:

Userboxes by Host and Hailey

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#📍 pinned post.#☆ Host #pluralpunk #plural positivity #plural community #system positivity #endo safe

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mywifeisaworm · 3 months ago

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Black brother ☆angst☆ word count: 690

From ch28 of ERUWOD

“Feeling better?” Barty asked, but Regulus had no time to respond before shouting was heard from the castle.

They looked up to see the Gryffindor boys marching towards them. Led by Sirius, they practically kicked the snow away with each step.

“Is it true?” Sirius asked. His face was stone, but his chin twitched.

“Is what true?” Regulus asked, raising a brow.

“James says you have the Mark. Do you? Tell me!” Sirius’ voice burst, and a single tear escaped the corner of his eye.

Only a trained eye could spot the way Regulus’ eyes darkened and how his mouth closed into an even smaller line than usual.

“What do you care? It’s not as if you’ve paid attention to anything at home in years.”

“You think I don’t care? Reggie, you could have come to me! I’m your brother, for fuck’s sake!”

Sirius stared at Regulus with desperate eyes and a trembling chin. It was as if Evan could see the moment in real time—the moment Sirius went from seeing Regulus as his baby brother to viewing him as a stranger.

“Come to you?” Regulus raised his voice, an octave above his usual calm demeanour. “Merlin, you are presumptuous! You always assume the worst of mother and father. What makes you think I need to come to you?” Regulus took a step closer to Sirius, snow crackling under his boot. “Have you ever considered, for a second, that I am perfectly able to make my own decisions, even if my values don’t necessarily align with yours?”

“Oh, so those are your values , hm? That is your oh-so-mature decision? Taking the Mark and following an evil overlord?” Sirius spat.

For a second, Evan thought Regulus might explode into an obscurus. Instead, when he next spoke, it was with a voice cold as ice.

“No, Sirius. You made that decision for me, when you left me to inherit the future of our house alone.”

Then Regulus turned around.

But before his boot met ground as he made his way to leave, Sirius grabbed his arm.

“Reg, please,” he pleaded, and Regulus paused for a moment. A pained expression briefly crossed his face, before his features settled into stone once more.

“Come on, it's not too late to fix this!” Sirius continued, and Regulus' expression hardened as he yanked his arm free. “Stop being such a brat, Reggie! I swear, we can help you, it’s not too late—you can come live with us, Monty will take you in and—”

“—I dont need your fucking rescue team!” Regulus shouted. The pitch in his voice felt like being struck by lighting. Evan didn't think he’d ever heard Regulus raise his voice like that before. “This doesn't need your fixing.”

Silence enveloped them. Evan could see Sirius' friends looking as lost as the Slytherin boys felt, neither group knowing what to do.

“I’m sorry, Reggie. I—I’m sorry. Just, just come with me, please?” Sirius held his hand out for Regulus, who stood still for what felt like an eternity. If he felt any remorse, any longing, any grief at all, he did not show it when he next spoke.

“Why do you need my forgiveness? If you seek absolution, go write to your new parents.” Regulus nodded towards Potter. “Or confide in your new brother.”

Pain twisted into anger in Sirius Black's face, before deflating into resignation. Regulus had already turned his back on his brother, and this time, no one tried to stop him.

Evan and the others followed him in silence. Regulus’ mouth was nothing but a gritted line. His eyes were glossy, and his hand was clasped around his wand so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

The walk to the common room seemed like an eternity. No one spoke. Regulus practically seeped magic as they entered the common room, and only once they were safely hidden away in the safety and comfort of the surrounding lake did Regulus aim his wand at one of the largest chandeliers. His Bombarda so powerful, the crystal shattered into pieces tiny as snowflakes, sitting in the air like dust motes.

#barty crouch jr #dead gay wizards #evan rosier #marauders #rosekiller #ao3 #bcj #marauders era #regulus black #black brothers #black brother angst #sirius black

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