Sirius: you know, it's kinda flattering for me that you're dating my brother

James: how so?

Sirius: one of me as a best friend wasn't enough, you had to go and find a me to date too

“Did you see what form your Patronus had?” Snape asks. She shakes her head. “Cast it.” “I can’t-” “Of course you can. You did then too.” She needs three attempts for the Luna Moth to fly through the sitting room. His arms around her, her back against his chest and his chin resting on her head he watches it with her.  “Do you know what Luna Moths stand for? They represent the ability to leave behind old ways and embrace new beginnings, the pursuit of happiness and love - especially true love. Some say they stand for regeneration and healing. They can eat leaves that are poisonous without suffering harm - I think it’s no coincidence you managed to cast your first proper Patronus Charm when you did.”

I dusted off my watercolours and drew Dove's patronus from "Your tears are of no relevance to me". I think it turned out pretty good but I need to invest in some better watercolour paper 😅 The stuff I have is a pain when layering thin washes of colour over each other.

“My two favorite people,” Sirius says. Harry wraps his good arm around Sirius’s leg and Sirius drops a hand to his head. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Remus’s cheek. “How was your morning?”

Remus laughs and says, “Started off a bit wrinkled, but it ironed itself out.”

“Well, that’s alright then,” Sirius says, and he’s smiling again. This time, it just about reaches his eyes.

-from Part II, Chapter 10 of The ghosts we both see

While I am a fan of Erron's dumb cowboyisms, I'm also of the opinion that more people should've heard him say something and gone

All Coming Back to Me

It was…his ghost, again.

Except she wasn’t a ghost at all.

She was really there.

“Elijah?” Hayley murmured then, concern for him coloring her voice again. “What is it? You look like you’ve seen a —.”

“Ghost,” Elijah finished for her, breathlessly. His eyes never left the singing ethereal lady. “Yes. It seems I have.”

Excerpt from potential new Elinity story

@elejah-wonderland @darknightfrombeyond

NEW CHAPTER POSTED & FORMAT OVERHAUL

(Spock got completely fucking wiped out while in a small tinny boat and is living his best “castaway” (2001) life rn ) (( edit: excerpt from my fic ))

“The name, The Infirius… What does that mean, exactly?” James asks, lightheartedly, staying as quiet as he can as he breaks the silence between them. Or at least, whatever silence there ever is when surrounded by the constant crashing of waves all around them.

Regulus huffs a bitter, near-silent laugh followed by such a long silence that James is starting to get the idea that his question won’t be answered at all.

“It comes from an old legend.” Regulus finally murmurs, “An Infirius is essentially a reanimated corpse. They feel no pain. They can’t be cut by a blade, they’re fast, and they have incredible strength.” 

James frowns but doesn’t interrupt.

“Only there’s another part of that legend that everyone else chooses to ignore.” Regulus turns his head to meet his eyes and James sees something sad within them. Sad and sharp with anger.

“Inferi have no free will.” He whispers, “They can’t even think for themselves. They can’t feel, can’t breathe, can’t take their lives back. All they can do is follow the orders of their Master. If he says kill? You kill. If he says die? You die. Not even half of a life. Just a puppet on a string that can’t be cut.”

“Regulus, you are not a corpse,” James murmurs firmly with sincerity in his eyes; in the very line of his brow.

“You are alive. You have air in your lungs and fire in the depths of your eyes–I can see it. Yeah, just there...” He points to a spot in Regulus’ eye, his lips curling up into a small smile. “Your will is as free as you are desperate to take it back from those who stole it from you in the first place. Regulus Black, you are not an Inferius. You are a human being. Your will are your sheers. If you want something cut, pick them up and do it. It is your will. Not theirs.”

your new friend vernon is walking you home one night, telling you all about the date his mom is setting him up on in an attempt to “get out there more”. he admits it’s been a while since he’s taken somebody on a date, and he’s sort of nervous and half dreading it. he doesn’t even have any idea what he’s going to wear.

the two of you reach the front of your apartment building, and you face to look at him. placing your hands on his shoulders you teasingly say, “wear that navy blue polo shirt of yours. it almost makes you look nice.”

he huffs out a small laugh in response, but the truth is he’s sort of spiraling. you notice what he’s wearing beyond an aesthetic sense? do you pay attention to how the shirt fits him perfectly, how it hugs at his chest and shows off his arms? of course, vernon knows he’s attractive — people swoon over him on the daily, and many times he can get away with not paying for ramen at the convenience store if the girl at the counter is young. but, it never crossed his mind that you thought about him in that way. it was different with you, wasn’t it?

he thinks about that, and you, on the way back to his dorm.

you text him to ask about his date the next night, the curiosity getting the better of you.

how was ur date? did she appreciate the polo?

he admits he didn’t wear the polo, but doesn’t offer any explanation as to why. he adds that the date was going fine until they were saying goodbye and she went in for a kiss on the cheek and he held out his hand. he probably won’t see her again.

you laugh out loud at his message.

when it’s your birthday a week later, he wears the polo to the casual dinner you host at your place with your closest friends. he notices when your eyes linger on his lean figure, and the way you blush when you know you’ve been caught. you’re almost sure he’s worn it on purpose.

" “I was on a mission to take out the chandeliers in the foyer, but construction on the gym finished before I could get them all.” 

“There’s only one chandelier in the foyer.” 

“Exactly.” "

Dick Grayson the man that you are. Baby Dick Grayson was on a mission to cause as much destruction as possible and honestly I respect it.

Excerpt from "Your tears are of no relevance" next chapter

Something about writing Dad!Snape adopting two little girls and loving them unconditionally heals my inner child 🥺

I did not plan to write more Lilian & Snape scenes in this chapter but here we are...they are just too cute together.

“My mother, she married a Muggle.” “A- a Muggle?” Lilian frowns. Snape can see her brain working behind her eyes, so similar to her mum’s, trying to understand his words. “That’s possible?” She whispers astonished. Should he maybe not have told her? How will this look if the Dark Lord- Fuck it. “She left her family, left the wizarding world and I think a part of her always regretted it.” “But why would she do that? Magic is so cool.” “I don’t know. She thought he was her true love.” “Was he?” Snape flipped the fish finger in the sizzling pan, spreading their aroma through the small kitchen, reminding him of rainy days, running along the river when it was still less polluted, bruised knees and builder’s tea that told him today would be a good day. “Maybe. I don’t know. I think they did love each other once. My father wasn’t a good person.” “Was he like mine?” Her fingertips brush over the spot of her cheek he once saw dark red, carrying the evidence of her father slapping her, a then five-year-old, for having the audacity to miss her sister, her mummy, the only caregiver and parental figure she had ever known. Snape places his hand over her own, cupping her cheek. His thumb strokes over her skin soothingly. “Yes.” “Did he hurt you?” “Yes.” “Why? Why do fathers do that?” Tears pool in her eyes. Did Snape reopen a wound that had successfully scabbed over? Should he have never mentioned his mother? A part of him, that part that still emitted a consistent dull ache, sometimes a sharp sting, no matter how many years pass, knows better. Some wounds never truly heal, especially those inflicted during childhood by those meant to protect and love you. “True fathers would never.” Snape says and hugs her, cradling the back of her head gently, letting her cry against his chest, clutching Ferdinand to her own chest. With a brush of his magic, the spatula takes flight and continues cooking while he comforts his daughter. “Will you?” She sobs and looks up at him with such childish, innocence, insecurity, fear and such hope it makes Snape want to resurrect her father just to kill him again. “Never.” He says firmly. “And anyone that tries to or does hurt my girls will have to answer to me.”

WIP Wednesday (Huli Jing Edition)

It's Wednesday again, so here's some comfort for a change: an excerpt where Huli Jing helps ground Di Feisheng--thanks to Xiaobao). (You can find earlier excerpts here.)

Swallowing back a groan, Di Feisheng forced himself upright again and braced himself for the sound of chatter.

The dog whined by the bedside instead.

He dragged his eyes open and looked around. 

No overeager puppy in sight. Just Huli Jing. 

Huh. 

Xiaob–

–Xiangyi’s Xiaobao was actually giving him space. Peace and quiet–

Huli Jing wagged her tail at him expectantly.

–And also a dog.

It was a good compromise the brat had come up with: Di Feisheng had needed a break from him, so he’d sent in the quieter, tamer surrogate. And that way, Xiangyi would get comfort from Huli Jing, even in his sleep. 

He huffed a laugh. It looked like even human pups could learn new tricks. 

At least his hand was responding to his commands now, since he couldn’t even manage a click of his tongue in his current state. 

He patted the bed at his feet, then let himself slump back against the wall, eyes closed.

The bed shifted as Huli Jing hopped up. 

He waited for Huli Jing to turn in a circle before lying down by Xiangyi’s feet.

There was a pause.

The blanket rustled under the weight of paws, but not by Xiangyi. The rustles were getting closer. And closer. Maybe she was going to rest her head on Xiangyi’s chest. He’d heard dogs did that sometimes.

A wet nose sniffed at his hand.

What the–He opened his eyes. Huli Jing gazed back at him, her head tilted slightly.

No treats here, he thought, and turned his empty palm up to show her.

She licked it.

That’s not–He shook his head, wiped his palm on his outer robe, and scritched her several times behind the ears. There, he thought, patting her on the back and resting his hand on his lap again. I’ve said hello. Now go to Xiangyi. He needs you more.

She whined, lay her front legs on his lap, and nuzzled his hand, her tail wagging.

Insistent little thing, aren’t you? He rolled his eyes, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Fine, he thought at last, scratching her under her chin. But only this hand. I’m not letting go of Xiangyi.

She nuzzled into his hand again and then lay her head on his leg. He huffed out an amused breath. Compromise accepted, then.

Silver Lights

… somewhere you felt was you. Somewhere you fit into, could see yourself in the landscape and the landscape in yourself; it was the backdrop behind your eyes where life had played itself. Somewhere the air in your ears and nose just fit so perfectly you'd never notice the sound or the smell, like a hand you've held for so long you'd only feel it if it let go. Have you ever felt so completely that you belonged somewhere, that returning to it was hearing the sky sigh: 'There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere' Silver hadn't. But as the snow crunched beneath his feet, and more tufts of snowflakes stuck to the outer coat of his fur as the wind brushed it from the horizon, it painted him in the same brush as the trees. And he was warm, from the inside. A true child again - maybe for the first time, he collected snow with his mind and wrapped it with cyan sparkles. The sky flexed and arched excitedly, speaking the language of light with him.

Want a drawing from me? Donate to a Palestinian aid cause. No restrictions, no lower limit. Details 🇵🇸

EDIT - GANG I FREAKIN FORGOT TO FLIP HIS HAND BACK OVER pls reblog this version if you're going to, I am a fool.

Yogtober Day 1: Beginnings/Encounter

The door opened, and a head popped through. They were human, significantly taller than the creature currently holding Xephos, maybe even a few inches or so taller than Xephos himself. Their hair was a bright yellow and messy, sticking up on one side as if they had been sleeping. Their eyes were pale blue-green, a color Xephos had never seen before in eyes. Those eyes glared down at the first creature.

“ˈHʌnɪdjuː, ɪt ɪz ˈbe��li faɪv ˈθɜːti, juː ˈbɛtə hæv ə gʊd ˈriːzn-“ Their eyes trailed up to Xephos’ and they froze. Their mouth fell agape as they stared him down, and Xephos managed a stoic glare back at them, puffing his chest out as much as his aching ribs would allow. He was insisting to himself that he would look brave even if he was injured.

The yellow-haired human glanced back and forth between Xephos and the other creature a few times. Their eyebrows suddenly dropped to an irritated expression as they stared at the other creature.

“Wɒt.” They said to them.

“No one will see us,” He Tian had said, his outstretched palm speckled with sunlight. It filtered through the leaves of the tree they sometimes shared lunch underneath in the school courtyard. They would sit against its trunk and let their knees knock as they ate. “And if they do, you can blame it on me.”

But Guan Shan never liked the implication whenever He Tian said things like that. He didn’t like that the ease offered by He Tian’s constant need for touch, for nearness, like small proofs of his attention and affection that lasted long enough to become a theory, could be toppled by Guan Shan’s fear of ruining the one thing He Tian seemed to have a grasp on: his public image.

Maybe if he hadn’t peered between the blinds of the teacher’s lounge and fallen between the cracks that separated He Tian’s potential from his own, Guan Shan wouldn’t have always put up a fight. Indulging in fondness always felt like some kind of moral dilemma.

But when it came to He Tian, the cure grew near to the cause. When He Tian turned radiant from Guan Shan’s reciprocation, shamelessly so, uncertainty became an afterthought.

So Guan Shan would mutter a last complaint before taking his hand.