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padfootastic · 1 year

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summary: from euphemia to james to sirius to harry to lily luna—traditions passed down through the generations of potters. love in the form of feeding your people, aloo paranthas as a labor of love etc etc

a labor of love

(also on ao3!)

August, 1970

“Jamie, breakfast’s ready!”

Loud steps thundered around the house as her ten year old raced down the stairs. Euphemia didn’t even bother to reprimand him at this point—she knew it was a pointless endeavour. Instead, she made sure the safety charms on the staircase were always updated.

“HiMumGoodMorningWhatsForBreakfast,” James’ words came out in one single whoosh of air and it was only because this was her child that she had extensive experience with that she could decode what he was saying.

She smiled gently while placing the plate in front of him. “Aloo parantha, honey.”

“Yesss,” James hissed in pleasure, a quick fist pumped in the air, before bending forward with his nose mere millimetres away from the paranthas.

Euphemia swapped the back of his head with a ‘tsk’. “James. How many times have I told you not to smell your food? You’re not a dog.”

“Ma, you don’t get it, okay. It smells so good,” he replied with a goofy, cross-eyed expression. “Seriously, whenever I go to heaven, I just know it’ll smell like fried potato and ghee and coriander. Life can’t get any better than this.”

Euphemia could only smile at the innocent look of wonder on her son’s face as he tore a piece off to stuff it in his mouth, hoping it always stayed there. If she had to keep making him aloo paranthas every morning to keep it there, she’d happily do so.

August, 1976

Sirius huddled closer into the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest and trying to count his breaths so he didn’t go so fast anymore.

It was some ungodly time of the day and he was sitting on the floor, pressed right up against the corner of the living room of Potter Manor, having a minor—really, not a big deal at all—panic attack about…well, everything.

It hadn’t been two days since he’d run away from Grimmauld Place and already the hopelessness was settling into his bones. He couldn’t stop replaying the words and curses and taunts and Reg’s face and—

“Sirius?” A drowsy voice cut through his spiral. He shouldn’t be surprised.

James always had a way of doing that.

“H-Hi, Jamie,” he replied, straightening up and wiping his eyes in a futile attempt to hide the tears he could feel pooling there. It wouldn’t work, he knew that, James always, always knew but he still had to try.

Sure enough, a pair of sock clad feet (adorned in little animated snitches) stopped right in front of him. His gaze traveled slowly, reluctantly, up to see James looking at him with a complicated look on his face. It was a mixture of sadness and frustration and resignation. Sirius hated that he put it there. James wasn’t made for expressions like that—he should always be happy, smiling, and this felt wrong, wrong, wrong.

Before he could do anything, though (not that there was much in his control), a hand entered his vision, palm up in invitation. Without even thinking twice about it—he would always choose James—he let himself be pulled up and straight into strong arms that were the only thing keeping him whole and grounded so far.

The hug ended in less time than it took for him to draw a full, shaky, breath. The abruptness of it left him reeling.

“Come on,” James said, tugging him in the direction of the kitchen. Sirius followed, confused, letting himself be manhandled into the kitchen stool and watched James take something out of the cooking cabinet.

“Boiled potatoes,” he explained, already moving on to the spice rack. “Mum always keeps some ready to go.”

With quick, practiced movements, James had them peeled and mashed. Another sealed container was retrieved—‘Dough. For the rotis’—and a flat top griddle was placed on the stove.

Sirius watched the whole thing in a daze, unable to identify a single thing but being comforted all the same. It felt almost like a ritual; the rhythmic movements of James’ hands as he rolled the dough into balls, and stuffed them with the potatoes. Watching him smooth it out into a round, flat shape.

“I didn’t know you were so proficient in the kitchen, Prongs,” Sirius finally said as the kitchen warmed up from his best mate’s ministrations, the smell of ghee-fried dough and spiced potatoes permeating the air.

“I’m not, really,” James shrugged. “But aloo paranthas are—they’re different, you know? Everyone should know how to make them.“

“I’ve never even tried them.”

“Well, then, everyone should have them at least once in their lives,” James said, firmly.

He placed a plate full of warm, steaming—aloo paranthas in front of Sirius and without even knowing what they really were, he could feel the rest of the tension seeping out of him. It’s a temporary relief, to be sure, but that it happened at all is enough to both awe and excite him.

He looked up at James with wide eyes, only to receive a knowing smile in return.

“Have a bite, Pads,” James pushed the plate closer. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

And he didn’t.

As he sat there and entirely demolished four of the wonderful paranthas—after days of not feeling the slightest pang of hunger—Sirius was helpless against the warmth that suffused his entire being, not just from the heat of the potatoes, but from the boy in front of him who’d decided to take a chance on him. Decided to welcome him not just in his arms but his house, his family.

August, 1995

“Sirius, why are we here?” Harry asked, confused. A minute ago, they were in the garden, talking about something or the other, and then suddenly his godfather had grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the kitchen.

“Because you, my dear Prongslet, have been severely, unforgivably wronged and it’s time to start rectifying that,” Sirius proclaimed, which really didn’t help.

“…huh?”

“You just told me you’ve never had anything but bland, boring British food. Ever.” Sirius stressed the last word, making a point Harry wasn’t quite sure of.

“Yes…because the Dursleys are raging racists and Hogwarts isn’t too creative with its culinary choices,” Harry slowly said, feeling eerily like he was defending himself for…not being able to have a diverse palette?

“Exactly. If James had a grave, he’d be rolling around in it.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Look, I was supposed to do this for you since the day you were old enough to eat solids. That I didn’t…well. Let’s not go there right now. But now that I do have the chance, it’s practically first on the list of my godfatherly duties—“

“What is, Sirius?” Harry asked, slightly exasperated. The man was making no sense.

“Making aloo paranthas, Harry! Come on, keep up, it’s bad enough you’ve gone this far without—any longer and I swear, James will find a way to come back to wring my neck and tie you to a chair just so he could force feed you,” Sirius finished, a slightly haunted look in his eyes like he was speaking from experience.

Harry blinked. What—?

“Now, luckily for us, the boiled potatoes are already done. You’ve got me to thank for that bit of foresight, of course, never go without since fifth year—“

“Why?”

“—because they’re so versatile—“

“Right, of course, how silly of me.”

“Yes. So, now you’ve gotta peel and mash it, and none of that ricer or fork nonsense, either, okay? You’ve gotta really get in there with your hands.” Sirius demonstrated by taking one slightly cold potato from the bowl, expertly peeling and crushing it between his fingers. He kept going until it was almost smooth, with just the smallest hint of texture. Once done, he turned expectantly towards Harry, eyebrow raised and ‘go on’ written all over his face.

Still slightly bemused, Harry stepped forward and gingerly took a potato of his own. Trying to peel it was—not as easy as he thought and everything else faded away as he concentrated on making sure no brown bits remained. It was a surprisingly soothing task. When he had his first potato peeled and mashed, he turned to Sirius proudly.

“There. What next?”

Sirius nodded in approval. “Now, we do the rest of it.”

And standing there shoulder to shoulder, the two of them managed to get through a veritable mountain of boiled potatoes, interspersed with Sirius’ stories of the Potters, a rare, greedy pleasure for Harry.

“Your grandmum, Euphemia, she’d make this for breakfast every so often. It was James’ favorite and she could never resist his great, big eyes—you get that from him, by the way. Not many people could, mind, but it was particularly effective when he wanted to scam some paranthas out of her.”

and “Your dad wasn’t the best in the kitchen, but this was one thing he was absolutely adamant he learn. Spent hours with Effie and Rani perfecting it, as well.”

Once the potatoes were done, Sirius directed him to the spice cabinet. “Now, this is the most important bit, Harry. Everyone makes their aloo paranthas in their own way. You can have different people following the same recipe and all of their final results would still taste different.”

Harry nodded in understanding. It was a bit like Aunt Petunia’s prized Roast Dinner—she always claimed no one else could make it the way she could, not even letting Harry close to the preparation of it.

“The first time I had this was in fifth year—similar to you, come to think of it—and I’ve experimented after, right? It was so good I had to. I went to many, many places in muggle London—roadside stalls to fine dining, you name it—and not once have I felt the same as when your dad made it with his eyes still half closed and the paranthas a little burnt on the edges and a bit undercooked in the middle. There’s no competition. So. It’s all in the spice, yes?”

Sirius handed him the container of carom seeds. “That being said, the most important bit?”

Harry leaned forward, eager, all hesitation forgotten in the face of a piece of his culture, his family being passed down to him like this.

“You’ve got to—“

August, 2017

“—measure with your heart, okay, Lils?”

Little Lily Luna Potter, only nine but adopting an air of maturity of someone much older, nodded solemnly, taking her dad’s word as gospel.

“This isn’t just food—this is you telling someone you love them. It’s a warm hug. Feeding someone, taking care of them, is no small job. So, forget all this measurements nonsense and just get in there,” Harry finished, nostalgia coating his words as he quoted his own godfather word for word.

“Get in there, Daddy!” Lily-Lu repeated empathetically.

“That’s right,” Harry chuckled, using one hand to ruffle the riotous mane of red curls piled on top of her head. “The next thing to go in is the powdered spices. Which ones are those, again?”

Lily-Lu squinted thoughtfully. “Coriander powder, red chili powder, tyoo-mer-ic, and cumin powder. That’s all of it, right, Daddy?”

Harry smiled at her serious countenance. “There’s just one more you’re missing.”

She frowned, biting her lip and mumbling under breath. “One more? Coriander…chili…cumin…and—and—garam masala! It’s garam masala, isn’t it?” The last few words were said in an excited shout, almost loud enough to startle him but he could only lean forward and place a quick kiss on her forehead in approval.

“Sure is, sweetheart. You’re a quick one, aren’t you?”

“I’m smart, Daddy, you and Mummy say so,” Lily-Lu returned, self-satisfaction radiating from every inch of her little frame

“That’s because you are; the smartest of us all, isn’t it?” Harry teased, while carefully mixing the spices with the potatoes. This one he’d do himself—Lily-Lu’s hands weren’t the steadiest yet.

“Oh!” She exclaimed suddenly, leaning forward. “The salt! You forgot the salt, Daddy.”

Harry blinked in surprise, looking down at his array of ingredients and realised he had.

“Huh. So I have, it seems. Would you like to do the honours, Lulu?” He extended the container towards her, smiling once again at how she was practically vibrating in excitement.

Harry was—not just glad but utterly ecstatic that he could do this, had the opportunity and ability for it. And he had no one but Sirius to thank for it.

Taking care of me even from the afterlife, aren’t you, Siri? he thinks with a silent offering of gratitude to the universe. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for it, for everything.

“And now, the absolute final step?”

“The chopped coriander!” Lily-Lu chirped, already reaching forward to clasp a handful of coriander he’d prepared beforehand. She sprinkled it all over their mixture with a high, bright giggle and Harry could’ve spent an eternity in that moment, with his child beside him and the weight of his family behind him.

#euphemia potter #james potter #sirius black #harry potter #lily luna potter #this is perhaps the most personal thing i’ve ever written.#no other piece of work has more of me and my life in it #and i don’t it will either. i’m not a huge fan of ~reality yeah?#but i was eating aloo paranthas my aunt made me today. feeling exceptionally content.#and remembering the time my grandma made the same for me #and how the way my aunt and mom make it is the literal same taste bc rhe learnt from their mom (grandma)#and how i’m learning to make it the exact same way (about. 75% there i’d say)#and i’m feeding my friends and enjoying seeing the joy on their face #so aloo paranthas are like. nostalgic. and a labor of love. and a symbol of family and affection and generational habits passed down #so u have a whole fic around it bc projection is what i do best #i’m still v apathetic to identity headcanons for the same reasons as before #but this had to be done so that issue is put to the side for a while #also like. why is posting on tumblr so fkn difficult my god #why does it not accept formatted stuff 😭#i’m sure there’s a way to do it but i’m either too stupid or too lazy #but that and the weird spaces it adds between paragraphs will be the death of me some day #anyway. enjoy! i have lots of thoughts about it so feel free to come talk to me about it #massively restraint in myself in the tags & authors notes #this was just supposed to be a lil tumblr drabble but it. just. Grew?#so yah.#pen’s writing

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prolibytherium · 7 months

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I think there's plenty of ethical concerns re: AI art but most people criticizing it fundamentally don't understand how the image generation processes work and are imagining it as very literal 'theft', or are operating on kneejerk reactions about """""Real Art""""" that aren't fundamentally different than any other attempts to separate 'true art' from 'fake lazy art' throughout history, so the conversation is kind of doomed to be bad and annoying from the start

#my bottom line is I'm aggressively neutral on it and think its both a good and bad thing in practice #also I don't give a shit if any of my art was one of the tens of thousands of images sampled to train an image generator but #I can understand being uncomfortable with that #But also that doesn't mean IP laws should be strengthened to 'protect artists'#They shouldn't and it won't.#My concerns are mostly based in the use of automation as a cost cutting measure to exploit and replace human labor at the worker's expense #which is not an issue specific to AI art or algorithmically generated content in general #I don't really care about the rest

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whentherewerebicycles · 10 months

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in my dream job era

#I could not love it more #it’s just the perfect blend #of types of work #today I was in back to back meetings but all of them were useful and engaging and energizing #tomorrow more meetings #where I get to do a lot of asking questions and thinking with people to identify issues and articulate priorities #and solve problems #and then like most of the rest of the week will just be like #doing sustained thinking & strategizing & research #to figure out how to flesh out and implement the ideas we generated #it’s just perfect!!!!!!!!#the thing I have learned about myself professionally is like #I just love and thrive on and NEED a ton of people contact #especially the kind where you’re working on a project together #but I also really need quiet no interruptions thinking time where I can shut off email/teams/whatever #and just like #synthesize… reflect… research… consolidate… experiment… reflect some more #anyway every time I see that meme that’s like ‘I have no dream job I do not dream of labor’#I’m like CANNOT relate #I was a creature made to work #but like #work that is deeply fulfilling and values aligned and pushes you to constantly be learning #etc etc etc #anyway… THRIVING #what a relief after 10 months of being like maybe I’ll never use my brain again

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starrycat123-blog · 3 months

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oksies hi starting a new thread of get to know you

haii I'm moth and also thea you may call me any nickname as well <3

I love musicals so so much (niche and popular!! basic-shaming is lame)

I am superhero obsessed (augh pied piper)

doctor who is my autism (yay river sonf!!!!)

good omens heoughhhhhhhh

super excited to meet you <3333333

Hi moth!! You can call me tetra. Don't worry that's not my real name or anything tho. I took it from the concept of tetrachords in music.

If we're generous about what we call superheroes, then maybe most of the things I like are superhero based. I mean obviously there's marvel and dc, but then there's stuff like dpxdc, sonic the hedgehog (idk if I've ever heard him called a superhero but he kinda is), if we count magical girls then like. Sailor moon and madoka magica

I haven't seen any episodes of good omens, but I read a really good fanfic of Crowley going to therapy a while back, and a couple funny ones with like yelp reviews of Aziraphale's bookstore. Plus I love the good omens analysis posts on here. I feel like maybe I half know some of what's happened in the show but also probably haven't scratched the surface. I'm kinda bad at watching TV shows, so there's a lot of stuff that I know from fandom but haven't seen. For another example of that, I've only watched one or two episodes of Sonic Prime. I reblog posts for it and it sounds good but idk. Just bad at it.

I'm a much more casual fan of musicals, I think for the same thing as above where I just struggle to sit and watch something on purpose. But I listen to the music from them sometimes, I've read transcripts online of a couple, and i swoon whenever I see a post analyzing the meaning of a musical song, especially when they go beyond lyrics and start going into the music theory in the tune. I don't have the skills or knowledge to do that myself but I love it so much

(when the singer changes their technique to enhance the meaning,, when this or that chord is a step outside the key to symbolize change or isolation or anything,,, using instruments as symbols for this or that character,,, tbh it doesn't have to be a musical even shout out to that youtube video by Scruffy on how fnaf's audio and sound effects make it scarier)

Lately I've been bouncing back and forth between Sonic and DPxDC. With hints of Slay The Princess in there bc I saw part of a playthrough of that awhile ago and loved the concept. I reblog madoka magica stuff whenever I see it (except magia record bc I know next to nothing about it) because that stuff makes me lose my mind. The love the pain the hope the despair!! Homura is probably like my ultimate blorbo but I love all the five girls they're so cool. I actually read the manga instead of watching the show though so I'm not as familiar with all the music. Plus I think the show had some extra scenes. Although it's a little confusing bc I think some of the extra scenes I see are magia record so idk.

Also I'm a fan of arts and crafts and will reblog that kind of thing once in a while, along with cute cat stuff.

Super excited to meet you too!

#sorry about the late response. got nervous and then put it off for awhile #hopefully it's a good one though?#it's unedited bc if i think stop and think harder/worry more now i'll never escape the think stage and i will post nothing #and i don't wanna do that #if there's anything you wanna know just ask #actually maybe i should think of some questions for you #oh like who's pied piper? i haven't heard of a superhero with that name just the child-stealing legend #unless you consider that guy a hero which like. i guess you could interpret it like that? teaching the value of not exploiting your workers #and i've read at least one story based on the legend where he takes the children somewhere nice #i feel like stealing children is not the ideal solution to that issue but it is a bit iconic if you think about it right #maybe he couldve taken some crops instead tho like thats the village income. it'd be more similar to money than kids.#i mean i guess in those days kids were also workers. and somewhat exploited generally.#so i guess i could see it as the guy getting exploited and then grabbing all the other exploited workers in town #i'm not really a history buff am i off base with this theory completely #i know kids used to have to work to help their families and that there are child labor laws for a reason #but also. not like there was a ton of free entertainment in the olden times.#i mean the parents almost definitely didnt pay kids money but chores aren't exploitation #maybe i should leave this up to interpretation #or just say it depends on situation and some kids probably were exploited while others weren't #hmm. this whole thing is probably just bs. i don't know what i'm talking about #oh well i hope you didn't mind it

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rustchild · 2 months

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#Frustrating to see AI art conversations steering constantly into abstract philosophical arguments #or arguments about tech #and away from the one-two punch of #a. This will make it that much harder for artists to survive #Taking away the basic bread and butter labor that allows people to hone their craft and pay their rent #and b. A world in which we can generate a lifelike video of a politician saying and doing anything at the press of a button #is one where any kind of reality checking becomes nigh impossible #Like. I have my own opinions about the artistic value of AI art (negative)#but that’s really not the main issue here.

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comradecowplant · 5 months

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my god people really love coming out of the woodwork for any sort of subject that even tangentially relates to compensating artists for their labor to twist it into "wow simp for U.S. IP law much? kekdoubleyou"

just say you don't respect artists & writers with your chest, makes you look less like a little bitch.

#i promise that you can have legitimate concerns about plagiarism without wanting intervention by the federal government #people: automated industry under capitalism is bad bc it weakens & alienates the already weak labor movement #same people: if you say my ai generated big booba biden image isnt real art you're basically a fascist #absolute nonsense non-materialist thinking #sorry to be the kind of wet blanket autistic that doesnt make exceptions once i see the patterns 🤷‍♂️#i said i wasnt going to post about this anymore but the array of responses to the new hbomb video have made me see too many stupid takes #i guess making thousands of $ by word for word repeating the works of small artists and never giving a shred of credit is praxis! amazing!#good god i dont think the western mind can be salvaged. its gonna be posadism isnt it 🙄#and then someone else was mad that the video wasnt about palestine? when hbomb has been a vocal supporter on other platforms #again i promise it is possible to care about multiple issues (1 larger than the other obviously) at the same time #and by that logic there should be no one ever making any videos given that the occupation has gone on longer than YT has existed #ANYWAY...

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reportwire · 2 years

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The Americans Who Never Went Back to Work After the Pandemic

2022-09-02 12:34:00 The latest monthly jobs numbers underscore a troubling paradox about the state of work in America. Despite recession worries, job growth seems strong, employment levels are finally above pre-pandemic highs, and unemployment rates continue to skirt 50-year lows. But that is only part of the picture. An extraordinary “flight from work” is also under way. Inadvertently…

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mushroom-for-art · 1 year

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Wanted to write about Mud and Rosys first meeting since these guys in my brain canon meet and are briefly a something and also Rosy canonically has babens this was always in her brain lore but with the moth squad now becoming a thing I was really intrigued by how that'd affect the original canon. Maple belongs to @cinnatwo I know they're not as present but credit where credit is due

Stormy night panic

Rain heavily thumped and rattled outside splattering against leaves and stones as the weather raged on outside, the wind howling and whipping through the trees causing creaks and haunting whistles.

Alone in a makeshift nest a distressed mew struggled for her breath, her claws scratches into the scattered leaves underneath her scraping on the cold stone as another wave of pain shot through her body.

"HNK", She whimpered loudly curling her toes, 'not here,' she thought, 'not now, please babies please just wait a few more days, I need to get to the other-' "AH-" Her thoughts interrupted by her own short pained yell as discomfort ripped through her.

Her leg throbbed in agony blood oozing from the claw marks that were left deeply inflicted upon her, she couldn't help the trembling, it hurt so much, her tail curled on itself as another pain shot through her, the stress and pain of the attack had sent her body into a panic and now she was giving birth all alone, cold and wet in a strange forest she was unfamiliar with in a nest that wasn't even hers and she hoped was abandoned. She was in too much of a state to even attempt to send out a psychic message to her friends, let alone heal herself, she could feel the warm blood uncomfortably running down her leg no doubt staining her fur. She hoped to any gods listening that nothing could smell her past the heavy rain.

She flinched at a rumble of thunder her shoulders tensing trying to pull herself small as her ears flattened in terror, she was never normally scared of thunder but right now everything was a potential threat, the rumbling could be the returning Tyranitar coming to finish the job, or a landslide that'd trap her in the cave she'd found in the side of this cliff wall. Cave wasn't the right word, it was more like a outcrop with thick vines hanging over the entrance to conceal it.

She wished the others were with her, she wished she was with them. Maple would shove her head under her own chin stubbornly and press close, wrapping her arm over her to hold her tail wrapping around them like a blanket making her feel warm and safe, Moth would lay down nearby and talk to her and tell her everything would be fine. She wiped a little at the tears falling from her eyes from the pain and from missing them she'd really wanted them to be with her for this, she didn't want to be alone.

A flash of lightning outside and Rosys body froze in sheer terror as the flash illuminated a silhouette right outside the vines.

She couldn't breathe her eyes locked forward as a snout pushed between some of the hanging plants parting them and pushing through slowly, another flash, she could make out horns and the skeletal like structure of their face as they slowly came into the outcrop. She couldn't flee in this state even if she wanted to she could've ignored the pain of her leg but all her energy was being redirected into birth leaving her trapped and defenseless as the strange being finally fully entered the space, drops of water dripping off of them as they stared at her with deep blue eyes.

Rosy tried to prickle the fur on her back, to puff up and look bigger but she couldn't, the defiant threatening hiss in her throat turning into breathless whimpers and pained cries as she hiccuped to herself, she didn't want to die here she didn't want her kits to be born just to die either. She wanted her friends.

She didn't hear them move but felt their paw touch her upper leg above her wounds, green warm energy flowed from their touch over her body, she could feel her leg tingling with energy as her wound was healed with the flecks of glittery light illuminating faintly the dark purple muddied fur of the other and the undeniable skull. Their eye shifted from watching her wound to glance at her face before they quickly averted their gaze back to her healing wound.

She watched them flinch as she whimpered again as another labor pain caused her to shake, looking at her in confusion as she trembled. They seemed to scan over her as though trying to find the source of her pain, holding their own paws anxiously as they looked at her, seeming considerably less scary than before.

They seemed to realize though what was causing such issues and she watches them step away.

"W-wait!...wait..please don't leave me…im..im scared." Rosy called out before her voice went quiet and timid. She knew she didn't know this Pokemon. She couldn't even tell what they were but she didn't want to be alone, they showed her kindness and she desperately needed support. They turned their head to regard her as they took a leaf from a vine holding it out into the rain before they came back, she noticed they didn't walk but floated.

They knelt carefully beside her holding the leaf which was now holding water from the rain like a makeshift cup to her offering her a drink. Rosy hadn't even registered her thirst around pain as they carefully held the leaf to help her drink, they left and repeated until Rosy seemed satisfied, choosing to sit, if awkwardly, near her. As the labor got worse they offered their paws out to her and she grasped onto them with one paw squeezing onto them, through the flashes of lightning still raging outside she was starting to make out what they looked like and was starting to suspect what they were.

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In hindsight Mud realized the way he approached the situation may have scared the living daylights out of the birthing mother he found in his nest and had she not already been in labor he might have unintentionally sent her into it. Of course there's probably no right way to go about coming home in the middle of a storm to find a random Pokemon, of your own kind no less, injured and giving birth in your living space so to speak.

He hadn't even intended to come to this nest of his, it was one of many and when the storm hit he was much closer to some others but, he'd felt a pull as though something was off and needed him. He figured subconsciously this other Mew must have been reaching, calling out to anyone close enough to hear, though by the state he found her in, he doubted her message got further than the forest.

She'd passed out not long after the third kitten was born and he was genuinely scared she may have passed on from exhaustion or some unseen wound draining her strength, he was thankful she was still breathing though he was still watching her like a Braviary just to be sure. He'd groomed the gunk off of the last kitten as their mother was unable to and, it was probably the correct thing to do? He wasn't sure he'd not been around others before but back home the Kangaskhan mothers would help one another so he was probably doing something right.

He'd put the last one, who was the runt with a slight kink in their tail that made his heart twinge by their siblings to nurse, his paw rested on their back gently as he felt a level of protectiveness over them before he checked on the mother. She had very lovely fur. It was curled bouncy looking and the yellow highlighting around her cheeks and ears were very charming. She seemed to be doing okay, just tired. The kittens were occupied as well having their first meals. Part of him wanted to go out searching for berries, when she awoke she'd probably be hungry but someone also needed to watch the newborns and protect the nest. The last thing he wanted was some Fearow trying to make off with one of them. He bared his teeth quietly to himself.

For now all he could do was supervise until mom woke up. He slowly took off his protective mask and quietly began to lick the moisture out of his fur. He hated being soaking wet; it made him feel unnecessarily heavy and sluggish, making sure to keep an eye on the triplets.

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Maples tail bristled as she paused mid-flight, her ears twitched to the sides flicking forward and back as her tail fluffed up to its maximum volume and the fur spiked along her spine. Something had happened, and this wasn't like the time Moth set one of his tails alight, this felt, it felt more, not necessarily worse but definitely more.

As she sped onwards to the location they'd agreed upon for their meetup she hoped to god it was just Moth being a fool and that nothing bad had actually happened to either of them, especially not Rosy.

Stretching out her psychic energy she could sense Moth, he was rather far away but slowly approaching as he always did, he was always late to these things even though she KNEW he could fly faster. She scoffed to herself as she searched with her psychic energy for Rosy.

Her signature wasn't moving, off somewhere but from what Maple could gather she was fine, if a bit tired, she assumed it meant Rosy was at the time sleeping to recover from a days flight and judging by the location of her she was in a place where the time zone would be night.

Maple sighed to herself, she must've just sensed something else, maybe a natural disaster that wasn't her problem if Groudon and Kyogure can't sort out their differences well it's Rayquaza's job to stop them isn't it? Not her fault if a few people drown or something.

#My writing #Rosy the Mew #Mud the Mew #Maple the mew #@cinnatwo Maple #@cinnatwo oc #Maple really went eh natural disaster ain't my problem #Mud unintentionally being a terrifying fucker #Time line wise this is before he gets his adopted kids #I always hc him finding an injured one of his kind and helping them #Despite the fact he will avoid mews normally at all costs to avoid rejection for being different be can't help wanting to help one of his #Also him being protective of the kitten that's slightly off because he sees himself to lesser degree in them #He's got issues and be doesn't want this baby getting abandoned like he did (dw Rosy would never)#Also Rosy having a horrible time XD giving birth in a strange place #She was hoping to surprise the others and be with them and situations said nah #She was always story wise gonna go into early stress induced labor #Now with added extra cry of wanting her friends that don't even know she's there and she can't reach #(Maple doesn't sense the kittens or Mud as shes not looking for them she's looking specifically for Rosys signature not general mew)#Tw blood mention #Tw labor mention #Tw birth mention #Nothing is described baby's happen offscreen

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