#the ducks quacked about something

[approximately12lbs-of-ducks]

What right does exercise have being so helpful for adhd. Like oh you want to regulate your iPad baby brain? Go to the pool and do a few laps until the ants under your skin die. The audacity that it works. Having to bike to the gym to regulate my stupid brain and eat all my past excuses that I used to avoid rec centers. 32 dead 537 injured

[approximately12lbs-of-ducks]

Thank u for the tag!! :D I’m kinda surprised how much I vibed with what came up

@leafcabbage @lovedbee @pocket-sized-nightmare @dykeology-201 @secretcowboyhat feel free to hop on if you want :] (or anyone else if they weren’t tagged!)

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒: 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ "𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 + 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒," 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑥 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑔 𝑠𝑖𝑥 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒.

Athena-core was fun to search 😍

I tag @newbornwhumperfly @grizzlie70 @butwhatifyouwrite @sapphoslibrary @wildfaewhump @deluxewhump

[lemonduckisnowawake]

Over the Garden Wall is SUCH a fascinating show to me for a myriad of reasons. But one of the things that stuck with me was the symbolism of the Woodsman and his lantern. TW for discussions on grief and unhealthy coping mechanisms (that I might get wrong, just as a warning).

I'm sure this has been said before, but to me it's just such a fascinating representation of how we unintentionally keep despair alive by clinging to our overwhelming grief of those we lost. Maybe I'm misinterpreting something or looking too deeply into it, but it's just. The lantern that the Woodsman keeps lighting in the hopes that his daughter's soul will be kept alive through it is, in actuality, keeping the Beast alive. And in a similar way I've read tales and actually studied grief theories about how people keep the memory of their loved one alive; at first, it's a good thing, and it can take however long or short you need to it be since grief seems to be something that generally never really goes away.

But there can come a point where all you live for is the dead, which is what the Woodsman was doing in laboring day and night to keep the lantern alive. And in doing so, you start to poison yourself and, rather than keeping the person you lost in living memory, you start to keep alive the despair and darkness. You start to keep alive the Beast rather than the soul of your daughter, in other words. Sometimes, it's intentional, though. "If I let go of this despair and anguish of mine, doesn't that mean I'll forever lose that person I loved?" And sometimes, it's unintentional.

The conclusion of it is that you have to let them go...you have to let that despair (not grief, but the poisonous and hopeless grief) go. Maybe, like Wirt did, through unflinching practicality and sheer knowledge rather than emotion. Or something else. But maybe, then, you'll find that when the lantern of your despair is gone, it'll be dark at first but you'll slowly start to see a grander light. And maybe, you'll find that your daughter is still alive anyway, in the light rather than in the darkness.

[blusical]

ngl gossip blogs are probably the worst thing about hockeyblr

[cottagedreamy]

I drew this a while ago and completely forgot to post 💀 But here's my take on Dewey's redesign, for the only reason that I think his original Quack Pack design doesn't quite match his personality so well? (except for the hair)

Please, he's a nerdy teenager in that rock-addicted emo phase (and an artist), he NEEDS a plaid coat and a band t-shirt. I also added his camera to the design, so he can easily carry it anywhere :)

(fun fact: only after I finished the drawing i did notice that he looked just like Donald as a kid in Ducktales 2017 and I swear the resemblance was not purposeful... Like uncle, like nephew i guess lol)

[duckduckngoose]

Can my dnd character PLEASE stop evading every attempt at me trying to either develop her backstory or just anything

[comfymoth]

listen i think cq can quack via whatever biology also gives him permanently yellow wings ok i think thats allowed it Has to be. my boy can quack. okay. he can. fictional minecraft birdman biology Is Just Like That

[approximately12lbs-of-ducks]

people who draw zombieCleo fat I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you

[approximately12lbs-of-ducks]

this was meant to be a quick sketch and then two hours disappeared cause i hyperfixated on getting the pose right and it still feels half assed but I’m leaving it at a point where I’m satisfied with it fldknfsk 

please by chelsea cutler kept coming to mind and hurting me even further as I was drawing this

My brain on loop: Definitely DON’T think about dbubs desperately trying to escape the jungle to go after patho when he leaves and only making it so far before withering and collapsing and being dragged back by vines while he cries softly

[bylertruther]

people will see a character that was created to be a certain way from the very beginning before everything was even set in stone, then actually written that same way even before The Plot happens in the final product, watch their core personality remain constant all throughout a show's lifespan from beginning to end, and even watch it be highlighted as a Good and True thing to be proud of and that is inspiring to others and sorely needed and not something to ever change or belittle in one of the most emotional scenes of a season that doubles as a high point & character defining moment, and instead of thinking Hm Maybe This Character Just Is This Way And We're Being Told That They Should Love Themselves For It The Same Way Everyone Else Does And How They Once Did Too Before Their Insecurity Got The Best Of Them And Told Them They Should Change, they will instead call it repression and not his true self and something to be changed even though it literally just is who he is. and all of this happens in the show where we are repeatedly hit over the head with the "you should stay true to yourself and love yourself no matter what other people think or tell you you should be". where the motto is literally "never change" nd conformity is killing the kids. like. Okay ❤️

[insert-cool-theological-pun]

Reading Henry M Morris after Dorothy L. Sayers is wild because while I have do try to impose a healthy amount of distance towards their use of Trinitarian imagery, they're also kind of so right in telling us that it's everywhere.

Sayers: See here, writing a book can be a Trinitarian work of creativity because you have an Idea (Father), Energy (Son), and Power (Spirit) that is the makeup of creating a story (aka your book's idea and grand scope, the actual written form itself, and the power that allows it to be read and understood). Isn't it incredible how all those three are the story in of themselves but cannot function without the other?

Morris: The universe is a triune singularity of matter, space, and time! And even within these three forms are trinities themselves. Matter (energy, motion, phenomena), space (length, breadth, height), and time (past, present, future) are such great illustrations of how the universe is one but must be experienced in through three individual but inseparable factors!

And then there's me who still has this image from I think reddit or twitter stuck in my brain:

[eyivibyemi]

✧ I won’t really write descriptions for these, but see original post tags for explanation/commentary on the song snippet ✧

[approximately12lbs-of-ducks]

For me I make it non-optional; no matter how late it is or tired I am i have to read at least one (1) verse. Usually I end up reading a whole chapter, but minimum one verse. I started by just picking books that I really enjoy (esther, job, psalms, proverbs, ruth, the epistles, the gospels, hebrews, genesis - these r in no particular order) to make it easy to start the habit. If you like literature/poetry I would recommend starting with Psalms, I find it easy to digest.

Some people find it helpful to start at the beginning and read through the Bible in order the books are organized, some people try to read through the books chronologically (which can be complicated bc ppl love to argue over the timeline in the biblical narrative lol) (I personally found both of these challenging when starting out). Following along with a devotional that has a scripture reading for each devo is another option.

If you're getting confused and frustrated by the text and aren't sure how to start understanding it, my two favourite resources are The Bible Project which breaks down books of the bible individually + some other really great stuff, and The BEMA Podcast which breaks down the Bible by looking at it through Rabbinic teachings and perspective (also honouary shoutout to my cultural background study bible favey so glad i got it). I also love comparing translations. I usually compare the NIV, The Message, NLT and CEV, and if I'm reading in the NT the First Nations Version (which so far only has the NT) (my default that I read in is usually the NIV). But yeah I find comparing different translations helps me discern what the passage is talking about.

Hope some of these r helpful lol!

Christians of tumblr: does anyone have any tips for getting into a Bible reading habit? :0 I’ve been dreadful at regularly reading my Bible these past few years, and whenever I’ve tried to start a habit, nothing sticks.

So if anyone has any tips or ideas, I’d love to hear them :)

[swimmingclass1978]

What if reg was an animagi and he could turn into a duck.

Imagine walking down the hogwarts corridor and you see james and sirius being chased by a duck with a wand in its mouth.

Idk just something about fussy duck reg sitting on top of james' head quacking at everyone

[lemonduckisnowawake]

Beyond the Four Leaves of Fortune

I actually wrote my @inklings-challenge (thank you to the runners for holding the challenge!) story on the 28th, intending to post it on the same day given the inspiration from Holy Innocents Day but, uh....didn't. Also, excuse some of the typos/clunkiness as I didn't really edit well because 3k words.

The most important thing to note here is that I took inspiration from Jeremiah 31: 16-17, the verse after the whole Rachel weeping thing. And also that it features the same characters from the previous challenge. With that, here it goes!

-

“I think…” Wynan began, side-eyeing the scene in front of her with the air of someone long-resigned to everything, “that it should be illegal for people who have read too many books for their own good to get wrapped up in adventures.”

Relani and Meryan glanced at each other, perhaps a little guiltily.

Or so Wynan chose to interpret, just for her sanity. They were, after all, hiding a rather overly large creature behind their backs and not very inconspicuously. She couldn’t identify the creature right away, not having the breadth of knowledge Meryan had on the nuances of other worlds nor Relani’s impressive mental encyclopedia of obscure creatures. But the important things was that it was dark blue, snake-like (or perhaps wyrm-like with its scales?), dripping an odd gray liquid on the living room carpet that was probably blood…and very, very visible.

“We readers know all too well how things go and end,” Wynan continued, abandoning the laptop she’d been writing something on. She leaned against the door to the kitchen (opposite to the entrance from the mudroom), crossing her arms and quirking an eyebrow. “There’s no stakes and no drama, so involving us in the plot really will be no fun because we’re gonna just make the most boringly safe choices.”

Like, for example, opposing the adoption—not healing, since it looked like it needed patching up—of a magical beast.

Meryan glanced at the wyrm-like creature half squished into the mudroom, then back to Wynan. “Um…he’s a wyrm from one of the fairy-tale-like worlds who almost got lost to the void,” she attempted, her voice robotically professional. “We’ve decided to name him Léf.”

At her words, the dark blue wyrm weakly floated into the room, able to fit due to magically decreasing his size. He made a huffing noise as he flopped on the floor, the gray liquid dribbling out of him staining the carpet.

Wynan made the mistake of looking into his eyes, black full of blue stars the same color as his scales.

Léf whimpered.

“…crap.”

…………

“After he’s all healed up, we do have to release Léf back into his world,” Relani admitted a few hours later, when they’d patched up the tragically compliant wyrm and put him into one of their emptier rooms.

Meryan turned around so swiftly that she almost spilled the pot of broth in her hands.

“What?? Why? What if Léf doesn’t want to go back?!” she half-heartedly protested.

Like Wynan, Meryan was also a reader and thus aware of how this story would play out.

Also like Wynan, though (or perhaps it was the reverse), Meryan had become captivated by the wyrm’s adorable eyes and his clear exhaustion of life. So despite knowing better, they decided that maybe this time they could let the story play out differently and keep the wyrm with them.

“I mean…this house does need a pet,” Wynan contemplated, far too innocently for someone who had said literal hours ago that she wouldn’t support any idea that came from this. “I know we have Meluan—”

“Meluan isn’t a pet,” Relani sighed, though she smiled at the banter thrown at the currently-absent fourth member of the house. “And do you really think she’ll allow this?”

All three of them flashed back to their various attempts to keep animals here at the edge of the universe.

“…she probably will, to be honest,” Wynan reminisced. “And then we’ll have to repair the walls again.”

“Or rebuild the roof,” Relani reminded.

“Or find an obscure chemical to remove sea monster mucus from the floorboards,” Meryan finished with a sigh, sitting down (bowl of broth and all).

It looked like the story wouldn’t play out differently this time, after all, Wynan thought. Well, she’d tried not to get attached…for all but two minutes, at least. But you couldn’t just give them a helpless animal and expect them not to get attached, so who’s fault was it, really?

But back to the matter at hand.

“Well…I wonder what led him here, anyway,” Wynan spoke up, frowning at the wyrm curled up on the fuzzy and currently blue carpet.

Right now, Léf was breathing easily and fast asleep, but there was something about its…everything that didn’t sit right with Wynan. Barring the fact that the Abode Before the Void rarely received animals—and, if they did, they were companions of (or remnants of) their owners who’d come to the void—there was just something about the wyrm that seemed…off. Clearly, he wasn’t a remnant of someone the sisters couldn’t save or they would have felt it but what was he?

Unaware of Wynan’s thoughts, Meryan easily supplied some of the information missing. “I can’t really tell what exactly the creature means to his world, but he comes from a fairy-tale-esque land…the ones where the myths and folk tales of other universes seem to come alive?” she explained, resting her arms on her knees with a fond look at the sleeping creature. “The unique point in this world is the way these fantastical creatures co-exist peacefully with a technologically advancing world. A modern fairy tale, to put it in other terms.”

Relani grimaced and crawled closer to the sleeping creature. “I can add a bit more.”

Fearlessly, she brushed asides the filmy light blue material that made up Léf’s mane. The wyrm slept on, affected by Wynan’s special power over dreams and rest to not wake unless necessary, and thus was unaware of the moment Relani revealed three white shapes on its forehead.

“Ah, I thought so,” Relani hummed. “He’s a familiar, or that world’s version of one, anyway. The shape on Léf’s forehead is a sign that he’s been claimed.”

She was about to edge away from the creature before Wynan stopped her.

“Hang on,” Wynan said, standing up and studying the marks.

“You sense anything?” Meryan remained where she was, simply resting her head on her arms as she observed her sister working.

Wynan nodded slowly, stepping back. “The mark is broken…I don’t know what exactly that means, but I can sense it was broken and that it wasn’t caused by either death or some…dramatic moment of sacrifice on the owner’s part.”

Wynan turned in time to catch the storms that were Meryan’s eyes narrow.

“Well, I do know what that means, and that means whoever Léf’s owner was, they broke their bond…crudely, too, if the mark is still there,” she explained, the professional tone she’d taken on again lined with fury. “No wonder Léf was driven here.”

“Broken bonds are no joke, between people but especially unequal ones like this,” Relani sighed deeply, stepping back as well. “I wonder what Léf’s story is.”

“I could try looking,” Wynan offered conversationally, sitting back down next to the creature. She absently scratched at the surface of the carpet. “I mean, there’s no guarantee on what he’ll dream about, but I could take a look in there and see what sorts of dreams he’s having. I’ve found that animals usually dream memories since they have more limited imaginations than those with souls.”

Relani scooted back a little, with a hand gesturing to, by all means, go ahead.

Followed by Meryan’s, “Oh, could you?” Wynan placed a warm hand gently on Léf’s neck. The touch wasn’t strictly necessary, but Wynan liked the thought of there being an action needed before invading the dreamspace of someone’s mind. Even if that someone was a less intelligent creature.

And, as it usually was with less intelligent but magic-touched creatures, the dreams she saw were more fragmented memories, coming from the limited perspective of a familiar clearly enslaved by the whims of his master or mistress.

Warm fires. Robotic pats that didn’t hold much affection but were appreciated nonetheless. Frustrated growls, not necessarily directed at him but terrifying nonetheless. Words of magic. Commands. Burning villages. Blood in the mouth. A prison he was banished into until called. A tattoo of a creature that looked like Léf.

And the clearest dream/memory?

It was of a figure in white smashing a glowing red crystal upon its head—its familiar mark, if Wynan had to hazard a guess. Pain soon followed, and Wynan instinctively let the warm blanket of her magic cover the terrible memory, soothing its sting as it passed like a video on a screen than a past reality lived.

She stayed in there for a while longer, knowing she had the full story but just in case Léf required more mental relief, but only felt his dull pain and exhaustion along with hints of relief in the darkness.

“Hmm,” Wynan commented upon exiting.

She was half aware of her sisters exchanging a look.

“Meaning?” Relani prompted soon after.

“I think he was bonded to an evil wizard or…whatever the magic people there are called,” Wynan slowly parsed, remembering the emotions.

Behind her, Meryan snorted. “No surprise there.”

At Wynan’s side, Relani’s lips thinned. Relani was also another reader, and the three knew way too many stories to hear that and not instantly conclude what happened.

“I mean, the story isn’t as smooth as that,” Wynan interrupted the silence, waving her hand in front of Léf’s covered mark. “His bond with his owner was severed, yes, but I don’t think it was done by them. I think they treated him…well enough. Perhaps not great, but there wasn’t any abuse to note of.” She thought about it a bit more. “But I think Léf was under the power of a storybook villain, if that’s anything.”

The fury in Meryan’s colorful eyes softened.

“I see…so Léf has his own stains,” she muttered, lifting her head up a little. “Things that stole his ability to claim his own innocence but wasn’t guilty of, not really.”

Wynan nodded. “That seems to be the story, yeah.”

“So, I’m supposing the hero of this story had to get rid of the villain’s steed before beating the actual villain once and for all?” Relani continued, lips twisting in a half-playful, half-regretful smile.

Again, Wynan bobbed her head in agreement, edging back to sit on Meryan’s side.

“I’m guessing lots of people had to bear the tragedy for the story to reach its happy ending,” Wynan concluded, looking at the poor wyrm driven to the edge of ever universe. “And we’re looking at one such innocent lost to the void.”

“Almost lost,” Relani corrected, stroking the wyrm.

At her comforting touch, Léf let out a deep sigh, as if relieved, as if trusting he was somewhere safe.

“Are you sure we can’t keep him?” Meryan half-heartedly attempted the question, not expecting anything from it. “Can we even let him return to his world when he was pretty brutally expelled from it?”

Continuing to pet the wyrm’s smooth scaled, Relani laughed quietly. “I’m sure Léf will be fine back there once he heals. We can only hope that he’ll find a better wizard or mage to bond with, if he ever allows himself to be caught again.”

Yep…as expected.

That was how the story always went. One of them found a helpless animal somewhere (not usually near the universe’s edge, though), they contemplated keeping it, a story of their appearance there was revealed, either mayhem or a realization that it had to return to its world followed, and then all of them went back to their lives missing the animal.

Still…it wasn’t so bad to get attached and maybe try to shift the story just a little, right?

Maybe that’s part of the story, Wynan thought, laughing a little to herself. Tell them we won’t get attached, get attached anyway, learn to let go. And with our life out here, it’s not like we won’t ever see them again.

“YO!”

Following the muffled shout, the door to the empty room housing Léf burst open, revealing a rather frazzled Meluan panting heavily and shouldering a rather large bag. She barely gave a second glance at the large wyrm taking up half of the space and waved her arms frantically at the other women.

“First of all, I’m back. Secondly, I am in need of support,” she gasped out between heavy breaths.

Unfazed, Wynan dryly sighed, “Stop panting. You literally cannot physically get tired in this house.”

At the same time, Relani chuffed and asked, “What did you do, Mel?”

“I’m emotionally tired! And need emotional support!” Meluan protested, her gaze bouncing from Wynan to Relani. “Also, I did nothing! You’re all the ones who forced me to make the library run this time, and unfortunately, the Librarian decided she wanted to tag along so someone please give me emotional support!”

Meryan, who had been laughing at the exchange, hopped up. “I’ll go,” she giggled, taking the large pot of broth with her. “You guys stay here and watch over Léf.”

“Have fun,” Relani saluted, the hand over her mouth not at all covering her mirth.

“And leave the bag behind,” Wynan added, knowing it likely contained the books they’d sent Meluan out to borrow.

Instinctively, Wynan caught the heavy bag immediately thrown at her, smiling at their usually unperturbed housemate looking so clearly bothered. “I’d wish you luck, but you’re just being dramatic,” Wynan called out as Meryan closed the door.

Incensed despite allowing herself to be dragged by Meryan, Meluan grumbled, “The Librarian is in my house! That’s not dramatic at all!”

“She’s not going to bite you in our house,” Wynan heard Meryan reply.

“Uh huh, anyway. What do you mean by having named the wyrm I saw? Or did he come prepacked with one?”

“…well, it hasn’t been long, but…”

Their voices faded away, leaving Relani and Wynan alone with the wyrm who had once been a familiar.

Léf’s quiet presence in the room reminded Wynan of a time long ago when she’d just been Wynan instead of…whatever she was now. That individual had loved dragons and had badly wished her world had them, to keep as a pet or simply just to ride. She’d seen a lot of dragons and creatures in the same genus since that particular Wynan’s childhood fantasy, but she’d hardly ever been able to exist in a room this peacefully with one.

“…it’s always gotta be the pets who can’t stay,” Wynan swore, though she smiled in spite of herself. “I hope Léf has a better story when he returns, at least.” Léf couldn’t be happy here, not with the limited space within their home and such nearness to the end of the universe.

Sending a smile her way, Relani laughed her agreement. “I hope so, too.”

“Kind of a shame his story had to end so tragically, though,” Wynan sighed, thinking idly back on the small tale they’d managed to piece together based on their collective knowledge of narratives and longtime experience. “It seems that in the fights between heroes and villains, there will always be innocents on both sides who will have to die.”

Relani’s brows furrowed in response, but Wynan wasn’t offended, knowing that her sister was merely thinking.

“But,” Wynan continued anyway, chuckling ruefully, “I guess it was like that for all of us, too…the way so many ‘faceless’ characters had to die for our story to continue, right?”

It made her wonder if one day they’d be those in the “faceless crowd” fated to die to advance the story and spur the hero to glory. She hoped not…she was content being the lost story that she was. But if there was one thing she as a reader knew about lost stories, is that there was always someone out there who wanted them found.

“Well, Léf’s story isn’t over yet, is it?” Relani suddenly interrupted Wynan’s musing, her eyes twinkling like veiled stars. “After all, there was someone before the edge to find him and help him recover so he could go back.”

Wynan almost rolled her eyes but found that she couldn’t really contest that statement. “Okay, not wrong. Of course you’d see it like that, though.”

“Oi,” Relani protested, leaning back on her arms, though her lips were still stretched with amusement. “It’s not optimism when it’s just the truth, Wynan. We know better than anyone how even those who have wandered off the edge, those actually lost within the void, have been found. No one is faceless in the end, even if it is true that to each other we can sometimes be mere side characters fated to die.”

Relani sighed, shuffling while still seated to throw an arm around Wynan, who leaned into the warmth offered as they both gazed at Léf’s sleeping form.

“Look…there are people who are mourning for the faceless who had to die to continue the story, aren’t there?” Relani insisted. “And there are going to be people who want to rescue them, too, like we do. But that’d be another story—their story, not the current protagonist’s—to tell.”

The only response Wynan had was to snuggle closer into Relani, suddenly feeling sleepy herself as happened with her (it had nearly given Meryan a heart attack once when she’d found Wynan sleeping inside a closet). Memories burst within her mind from Relani’s words, refutations and arguments as well as evidence and agreements to what her sister had said. How there was always someone in this multiverse that would know of a tragedy and mourn the people lost—that was why they were there for, too—and try and reach out to save them.

Well, Relani’s usually right when in these things, Wynan conceded, feeling her eyes shut. And she’s right in that we’ve always been there to fetch people driven to this point, aren’t we? But I’ll tell her she’s right when I wake up, though. I want to sleep…

The story would still be there when she opened her eyes.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐒

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Theodore Nott x Reader

Theodore Nott didn’t understand you. In fact, he was fairly certain that nobody understood you. Yet, as he leaned against the library’s stone archway, watching you float through the corridors like some ethereal, pastel dream, he couldn’t look away.

You were all bouncy curls and matching bows, a perpetual smile plastered on your face as if you were in a constant state of blissful daydreaming. You stopped abruptly to crouch down, whispering to a group of ducks that had waddled in from the Hogwarts lake. Yes, actual ducks. They quacked in reply, as if they were in on the conversation.

“Of course,” Theodore muttered under his breath, pushing himself off the wall and walking over, curiosity getting the better of him.

When he got close enough, he heard you giggling, a sound that, against his will, made the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

“And that’s why you shouldn’t fly too close to the Whomping Willow,” you were saying seriously to the ducks. “It doesn’t know how to make friends properly, but we should still be kind to it.”

Theodore raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Are you giving life advice to ducks now?”

You looked up at him, eyes twinkling. “Theo!” you chirped, as if him showing up was the most delightful surprise you could’ve imagined. “I’m not giving advice. I’m just making sure they know the dangers around here! It’s very important.”

He sighed. Of course, it was.

“Do you ever stop smiling?” he asked, though the question was softer than he intended.

You grinned even wider—how that was possible, he didn’t know. “Why would I stop? There are so many things to be happy about!"

He glanced at you. “I don’t see the point in getting excited over things that happen every day.”

You stood up and clasped your hands together, staring at him with those impossibly bright eyes. “Oh, Theo, you poor, gloomy boy,” you said dramatically, putting a hand on your heart. “You must be starving for joy!”

“I’m not starving for anything,” he said, though he suddenly felt a little unsure about that.

“Oh, but you are!” you declared, twirling around him in a circle. “You need some color in your life, some adventure, some—”

“Flowers?” he interrupted, gesturing to the daisy chain you had managed to loop around his arm while he wasn’t paying attention.

“Exactly!” you said, your eyes twinkling. “Flowers make everything better. See? Now you look like a prince from one of those old fairy tales!”

Theodore glanced down at the delicate chain of daisies and sighed again. “This isn’t helping my reputation, you know.”

You just smiled innocently. “Who cares about reputation? Life is more fun when you don’t worry so much.”

“I’m not worried,” he said quickly. “I just—don’t understand you.”

“That’s okay,” you said softly, standing still now, your voice like a gentle breeze. “You don’t have to understand me, Theo. But you could try… enjoying things a little. It wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

Theodore opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t waiting for an answer. Instead, you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the courtyard.

“We’re going on an adventure!” she announced.

“We are?” Theodore asked, though he was already being tugged along.

“Yes! Look at all the flowers blooming today! I bet we can find the perfect ones to make a crown for you. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Theodore groaned, but something warm flickered in his chest. “Darling, I am not wearing a flower crown.”

“We’ll see,” you sang, skipping ahead with him in tow.

As you reached the courtyard, you released his hand and flitted from one patch of wildflowers to the next, gathering blossoms and humming a tune. Theodore leaned against a pillar, watching you with an exasperated, almost fond expression. How could someone be so relentlessly joyful?

“Found it!” you called out, holding up a daffodil triumphantly. “This is the one. It’s your flower.”

“My—what?”

“Your flower,” you repeated with utmost seriousness. “Daffodils mean new beginnings. They’re perfect for you.”

Theodore raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need a new beginning.”

“Everyone needs new beginnings sometimes,” you said softly, tucking the daffodil behind his ear. “Even grumpy boys like you.”

He swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close you were. Your scent—something like wildflowers and sunshine—was intoxicating. For the briefest moment, Theodore wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was something to your endless optimism, your constant smiles.

“Do you always fall in love with everything?” he asked, his voice quieter than before.

You paused, your fingers lingering near his face. “I fall in love with the beauty in things,” you admitted, your gaze steady and sincere. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t notice the hard parts too. I just choose to love it all anyway.”

He stared at you for a long moment, something unfamiliar tugging at his chest.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered.

“And you’re adorable,” you replied, grinning again.

Theodore sighed, though this time, there was a hint of a smile on his face. “I still don’t want a flower crown.”

You giggled, plopping the half-finished daisy chain on his head. “Too late! You’re already the flower prince of Hogwarts.”

It was a little ridiculous how happy you were, and it drove Theo absolutely mad.

But not in the way he wanted.

“Good morning, Theo!” you chirped as you bounced into the common room, your shoes making soft tap tap sounds on the stone floor. You held a handful of daisies, which you promptly began to sprinkle over the Slytherin table, because, in your words, “Even dungeons need love!”

Theo looked up from his book, his brow furrowing. “What are you doing?”

“Making everything prettier, of course,” you replied with a giggle, twirling around to place a daisy behind your ear. “The dungeon’s so gloomy. Don’t you think flowers brighten the place up?”

He blinked at you, his eyes flicking from the daisies to you, then back to his book. “I don’t think flowers are going to solve the fact that we live underground.”

You gasped dramatically, clutching the flowers to your chest like he had just offended your entire soul. “Theo! How could you say that? Flowers solve everything!”

He grumbled something under his breath, flipping the page of his book with more force than necessary. “Whatever. Do what you want.”

And that was how it always went. You would always find some way to make Theo’s carefully crafted gloomy world a little brighter—much to his dismay. Yet, somehow, despite himself, he couldn’t help but let you.

Like that time you convinced him to walk with you through the Forbidden Forest, not for some grand adventure, but because, in your words, “The sunlight looked so pretty through the trees.” Theo had rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might fall out of his head, but still, there he was, trudging alongside you, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, grumbling all the while.

And then there was that one time during Potions class, where he sat quietly at his desk, scribbling notes, and you… well, you were busy tying tiny bows on the vials of ingredients. Professor Snape wasn’t impressed, but when he told you to stop, you just smiled and said, “But Professor, it’s just so much nicer this way!”

It was ridiculous. You were ridiculous.

And he was utterly and completely… charmed.

Not that he’d admit that, of course. Theo was far too grumpy, far too Theodore to ever say something like that aloud. But he didn’t mind that you sat next to him in every class, constantly filling the space with your endless chatter about how beautiful the stars looked last night or how you had named the toads in the courtyard after each of the Hogwarts founders. He didn’t mind how you always found a way to make him a little less… grumpy, even if he pretended otherwise.

One day, as you skipped down the hall beside him, your arms full of flowers you had picked from Merlin-knows-where, you suddenly stopped dead in your tracks, eyes wide as saucers.

“Theo! Look at the sky! It’s pink! And orange! Oh my gosh, isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

He stopped too, glancing up at the sky, his expression flat. “It’s just a sunset.”

“Just a sunset?” you gasped, grabbing his arm and tugging him closer to the window. “No, no, it’s not just a sunset, it’s magical. Don’t you feel it? The colors, the warmth! It’s like the sky is telling a story!”

He looked at you then, really looked at you. The way your eyes sparkled with excitement, the way your lips curled into that bright, infectious smile. You were staring at the sky like it was the most wonderful thing you’d ever seen, and somehow, in that moment, he thought you looked more magical than any sunset could ever be.

“Theo?” You waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his daze. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, shaking his head as he tried to focus on something, anything that wasn’t how ridiculously soft and pretty you looked in the pinkish-orange glow of the sky. “You’re just… weird.”

You grinned up at him, undeterred. “Weird? That’s the best compliment you’ve given me all week!”

He rolled his eyes again, though his lips quirked up ever so slightly. “Yeah, well… don’t get used to it.”

But you saw right through him. “You like me, don’t you, Theo?” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Absolutely not,” he shot back, though the redness creeping up his neck betrayed him.

You giggled, that sweet, melodic sound that made his heart do stupid things in his chest. “It’s okay, I like you too.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Merlin help me…”

But as you linked your arm through his and started humming a happy little tune, skipping alongside him down the hall, he couldn’t help but smile just a little.

Maybe, just maybe, sunshine wasn’t so bad after all.