Dedalus Diggle

[marisatomay]

Me: Hey I lost 2017 could I make an announcement?

2018: Sure

Me, leaning into the microphone: Goodbye you fucking piece of shit

[moretrashyrpmemes]

Send 💗 to kiss my muse tenderly without explanation

[diggledelight-blog]

batteredoptimist:

James spent the party in good spirits- having shed his coat and scarf into a nearby closet. His host was friendly and far more lively within the spirits of the party, and James had eagerly helped himself to the available sweets. There was a bit of light conversation had where he simply introduced himself as James, and more than a few games and laughter. It was a lovely party, and likely the only one he’d go to that season.

             By the time guests began to get tired, so did he. The nighttime called, and so did the memory of where he came from. James took his leave during a high point of laughter and merriment- where his disappearance wouldn’t be as noticed- or even noted at all. The House had been left unlocked for him, and he wandered in just like he’d wandered into the party- unobtrusive.

             The moon hung heavy overhead just like it had the first time he and his unexpected friend had met. Two weeks passed before James would re-appear in Dedalus’s life. Familiar tracks hidden beneath the cobbles that called to his feet drew him down familiar alleyways and cramped neighborhood streets. 

             Darkness was cut hard by the light of a back door, and a figure leaned out with milk jugs in hand. James was stood there barely five feet away as though he’d known- and smiled brightly when he saw a familiar face.

            “Dadelus! Hullo!”

There’s no point in wasting good milk, Dedalus’ mother had told him the few times she had caught him at it. Why would you even put it out, it’s not as though you believe in those old tales.

The latter was true, at least. Dedalus was fairly certain he didn’t believe but there was still something about it. It was something a little comforting that was like belief, even if it wasn’t honest belief. Or, maybe, he was just confusing himself for no good reason except that his mother could always needle her way under his skin. 

“Oh,” He actually jumped a little, nearly dropping the tin he used to leave the milk with. “James, hello!” And then, like it was perfectly normal to be meeting this late at night with the moon swelling up behind them, “Nice night, innet?” He offered a smile and carefully put his jugs and tin down behind a pillar so they wouldn’t be visible, embarrassed with his own sentimentality. “The moons all back in place, too.” He added with a sweep of his hands. “If you came to confirm.”

[diggledelight-blog]

batteredoptimist:

The noise behind him piqued his interest and James glanced over his shoulder to the house. The stranger was talking about milk and honey, which were old traditions. Older than the type of thing being held behind them, anyway. 

              James slid his hand back into his sleeve and the guileless smile was back on his face- peeping back up over the top of his scarf, “That’s nice of you to ask! I’d like that. Are there sweets by any chance? I haven’t had a good sweet in a long while, now.”

             The small man didn’t move right away. He was still wriggling faintly in place, and stared back up at the sky as a wisp of cloud drifted along under-lit by society below as it trundled it’s way. Finally his limbs ticked to life and he wandered towards Dedalus. James didn’t know know him at all- but something now was pushing him along just like the wind with that cloud- and he fixated rather abruptly.

“Oh, yes.” Dedalus nodded and gestured back at the door before moving to go and open it and welcome James inside. Certainly he had already been in, but sometimes people felt awkward about rejoining a party. “I mean, there’s not many shop sweets but there’s chocolate and some cake. Eggnog and wassail, too, of course. But they’re... a bit strong.” He flushed as though that were a personal failing in some strange way that came only from drinking and not being able to quite hold his own.

And that was exactly what it was. A party with the guests being somewhere between the ages of fifteen and twenty with far too many sweets, far too high of a fire, and a bunch of silly games. Dedalus made certain to bring James to the table with food, first, and then, upon one of the other guests taping him on the shoulder, turned a more raucous face towards the other guests.

Gone were hedging considerations and quiet laughter--he teased and conjoined and challenged most everyone to a game of smiles--which had everyone in a circle and whomever smiled first at his overtures or antics had to take his place in the center. When he coaxed a smile out of a younger girl with blond hair, he settled next to James again and gave him a little nudge and smile to make sure he didn’t feel overly abandoned.

Later, when most of the guests had left or found beds, another boy asked him, “Who was he? Your friend?”

And Dedalus blinked in sleepy surprise, “Oh, was he not yours?” 

[diggledelight-blog]

batteredoptimist:

The moon was still there- the clouds were drifting past like they might any other evening. Frost was building up on top of the day’s snowfall, and his feet were chilled and wiggling within his old boots.

              “I’m James Pollard.” Gazing back down to Dedalus, James let the smile return to his face. The fellow seemed the friendly sort. The party lights and noise behind them were outside his realm of attention, but James’s focus always landed on the most interesting things to him. A lone man standing apart from the crowd set a far more fanciful stage than a party which could be held by any other household.

               “It’s good that you have so much faith in the moon! I think more folks need to. She sits up there her whole life giving light down so that we don’t trip in the dark. Maybe that’s what is important to remember during something like the Solsice when- you know-” He paused to sniffle a bit and rub his chilly nose, “When magic is so strong.”

Dedalus couldn’t help the smile, closed mouthed and perhaps a little condescending. He stifled a laugh and instead focused on the moon over magic, “Well, perhaps, its just because the moon has always been there. Of course, just because something has always been there doesn’t mean it always will.” Which was something Dedalus did not really want to think about too deeply.  “Anyway--”

Inside someone shouted and his attention flickered momentarily to the window--a win, he supposed, for a party game. Muted laughter followed. “Sorry.” He apologized as he turned his attention back to...James. Or should he be referencing him s Mr. Pollard?

Did he even know of any Pollard’s?

He did laugh this time, and took his hand from his pocket to run a hand through his hair. “I suppose it is magical.” He tried to shift his shoulders into relaxing. “In a sense. The season. I mean. It makes me wonder about leaving honey and milk out and ...” That was silly. “Oh, James, you’re cold. You should have said something. Do you want to go in?”

[diggledelight-blog]

batteredoptimist:

It was cold enough out that their breaths were visible. James had been outside long enough that his nose and cheeks were bright pink from the nip in the air. His small frame was positively swimming in a too-large coat which reached well down past his knees. Wrapped around his neck was a knit scarf- and his overall look was of someone who had landed somewhere rather suddenly someplace that they didn’t belong.

                   This was the season for revelry- though James had participated in very little. Members of the House were prone to keeping to themselves, and James was small and a bit odd by all accounts. He made friends easily, but the people he did it with often didn’t even realize that was what he would consider them. Thus a wandering soul was born out of a lack of supervision, drifting thoughts, and the pull of romanticism.

                   Large eyes were set to the sky, but they swept over in Dedalus’s direction when he spoke.  James stared at him for a moment, and when he didn’t disappear into the ether offered a smile, “Do you think so?” Hands pulled themselves into his sleeves and he looked back up- checking to make sure the moon was still there, “They’re just so dark- I thought that the sky decided it didn’t want to light up anymore-!”

“Not yet,” Dedalus was taken, suddenly, with a little fancy and he smiled. “Oh, I don’t know when it is exactly but that’s probably a few days from now.” He considered a little. “Or, maybe...a few days ago?”

He turned to look at whoever he was talking to, expecting another party guest he didn’t recognize and found... a shorter boy in an over large coat that looked, somehow, wrong in the muted light.

 “It always does, doesn’t it? The moon, I mean. It comes back.” He ended a little quieter, somehow feeling a little unseated in a way he wasn’t accustomed. 

“Dedalus Diggle.” He continued, more confidently and with a smile even as he folded his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “And I like to think the moon will remain unswallowed, even on a solstice.”

[grendael]

when you play a canon thats so minor they’re basically an oc

[ithelpstodream]

[smitethestate]

Fuuuuuuuuuuck thank you I’m just gonna put this in my pocket to use for the rest of my life.

[diggledelight-blog]

The shadows have eaten the moon.

It was the shortest day of the year. Inside, a roaring fire lit up the den populated by a dozen or so fine young ladies and men dressed in their winter holiday best. Some, he knew, were still holding the idea of Santa and Elves and Magic under their tongues but Dedalus was seventeen had long since reasoned his way out of most beliefs.

Oh, he believed in reaping what one sewed and the power of a particularly masterful word… but Santa? No. He also had more than enough reason to believe in magic–or, at least, the little things the baker in the market winked at him when he found a bit of pressed silver tucked in the last shelf. That and a little milk, can’t forget where you came from. She’d said and he had believed her–but wasn’t, exactly, sure what for. After all, he was certain that the baker had been a school friend of his mother’s before the theater found her.

Then there was his mother and the dark, candlelit, parties she hosted. He shivered at the thought of the rat tat tatting he heard from the door, the gasps and mild protests. Ghosts, Dedalus knew, were best left alone and he tried to disbelieve those as much as he did the good natured Santa Claus. 

So as the fire warmed the room to boiling (or was that, perhaps, the eggnog?) Dedalus smiled his excuses and stepped outside to where the winter moon drifted icily across the air. His cheeks were still burning as he loosened the buttons on his shirt and he didn’t turn when someone spoke beside him. 

“Clouds, more like?” He offered instead, still squinting at the silvery strip of light and misty cloud. He hadn’t even noticed that the party light behind him had softened, darkened, died.

[diggledelight-blog]

Like for a starter (though feel free to message me with particular wants for that starter or else its a russian roulette event)

[diggledelight-blog]

“Thank goodness. Save me? Please? All those young girls, in pastels, talking about the weather. I shall go jump off a bridge, I swear I shall. Do you have bridges in Wiltshire? They chatter, they chatter worse than Lucius ever did. Oh, the chattering! The chattering, it haunts me.” // I know I already sent you one but when I saw I could put Lucius's name in there I couldn't resist!

Dedalus stiefled a smile and maybe a laugh. Instead, he gave Narcissa a polite little nod, wrapped an arm through her’s, and guided them both through the throngs of the party and towards a small table overset with cold, pink colored, tea.

 “Like you can’t chatter better then all of them combine.” He offered and poured her a small cup. “If you wanted to set your mind to it--and you sometimes do. Why, just last evening you did. Sitting right next to you ma-ma.”

He gave her another knowing look, then winked. “But, I suppose we could cool off here a moment and then find our way to the garden...” Then from the garden, well, he had a good idea about a small fence they might be able to happen over.

... But only somewhat of an idea. The last time he had seen it he had been seven and rather small for his age. Climbing over it then had been an event!

[proditoriarchive]

Sᴏᴜʟ Mᴀᴛᴇ Mᴇᴍᴇ This is a meme for SOUL MATE AUS (although it can also double as drabbles if you want). Below the Read More are 27 options. Please send a number or topic title (if you click under the read more you’ll understand) to play. For a random assignment use the random number generator.  Please Note: Soul Mates are not only Romantic but can also be platonic! 

Keep reading

[notmykingdom]

WANTED GENRE: SOUTHERN GOTHIC

“Anything that comes out of the South is going to be called grotesque by the northern reader, unless it is grotesque, in which case it is going to be called realistic.” - Flannery O'Connor

TOPICS:

crossroads demons

old dusty town, barely surviving

zealous/fanatical religious figures/movements

messiah/prophet figure

larger than life characters

small town setting

swamps

farms

factories

ghost towns

ARCHETYPES:

good ole southern boys

southern belles

belle-turned-femme-fatale

fire and brimstone preacher

reluctant messiah figure

the iron-bound Southern matriarch

the unforgiving father-God figure

gossiping and small-minded locals

POSSIBLE TWISTS:

Beauty & the Beast

Macbeth

Little Red Riding Hood

Harry Potter World (Americanized)

Julius Caesar (Shakespeare)

Equilibrium (Minus Futuristic World) 

For more information about the genre and where I derived a lot of my inspiration, visit this blog.

[diggledelight-blog]

ladylycorine replied to your photo: @ladylycorine You flatterer you

I believe what are trying to say is, “Nicky is incapable of shutting-up.”

One might say that---but only those who have not had the chance to be completely engrossed  in your stories and wondering when you’re going to work on the next one.

[diggledelight-blog]

5 Headcanons AU: soulmates

Things On Skin transfer

The first time Dedalus makes contact with Narcissa Black he is standing at his mother’s dressing table. He leans forward on tip toes, straining to reach his mother’s tub of perfect pink powder and stick of bright red lipstick. He manages to grab the jar just as he looses balance and it upends on his head. He does not know that at the same moment Narcissa’s face has trails and blotches of pink appear.

He ends up wearing Narcissa’s lipstick at five when they’re both dressed for a christmas party. He stares at her from across a table and then says, very carefully. “It doesn’t look good on you” He’s not wrong.

When the adults notice, the two children are wrenched apart instantly. The Diggle’s are only allowed in the Black’s social circle as long as Dorothy is on the stage and its been... oh, maybe a season since she’s been in high demand. The Black’s are known to be less then kind to nonpurebloods

Dedalus learns to write whole sentences by seven but instead of writing to Narcissa, he learns to annoy her by drawing flowers and swirls on their arms which she can’t wash off. She steals Bellatrix’s make up in retaliation but Dedalus hasn’t learned he should be ashamed of that

When they meet at Hogwarts, Dedalus comes up behind her, loops his arm through her’s, and continues a conversation she didn’t know they were having about what everyone’s wearing, or should be wearing, and how. It doesn’t make up for the fact he’s a ravenclaw.

[diggledelight-blog]

@ladylycorine You flatterer you

[bodhilukes]

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it