Who doesn't celebrate it
doesn't get excited about Friday
Who has complicated feelings regarding Christmas
Who has bad memories associated with Christmas
who is doing the right things because they respect other human's in protecting them
who doesn't have their found family with them this year because of everything going on
and otherwise isn't full of spoons/spell slots for Friday.
This post is for you.
I see you. I feel you. Auntie/Mom/Gramma Dragon understands.
Let’s go roast some marshmallows and watch the Matrix or something else silly to take our minds off of Friday.
(Set the one on the left to 8 pm GMT since London is not GMT)
(I moved it back 1 hour since it took me a little time to get this one verified since many votes were close.)
Notes: Polling will close at 8 pm GMT Monday. If you’re running a little late, drop me an IM. I’ll leave it open for you if you ask. SO ask.
See this Line? This is the Polling Link. Everything in One Post
After the last one to tell me is finished, the poll is closed. Anything late (if I forget to take it down and trash it) is null and void and not included.
From this post here, I got a wild hair and felt a ficlet ready to run with it.
It’s been a while since I've published anything but since I’ve been deep in writer’s block for months, I won’t complain.
Set in the Vows Universe (and thus Molly is still in therapy for her long-neglected PTSD) and rated PG-13 / 15 / T for language, dark themes, and references to character deaths. Ace Safe. Caveat Emptor.
Still waiting on my blasted Demarcation line
A long gong rung in the kitchen, breaking her rhythm while peeling potatoes and parsnips for the meal this evening. The ham was in the cooling cabinet and so were the pudding that Arthur asked for earlier. She couldn't resist him, even after thirty years of marriage.
"It must be those gnomes again, trying to get through the boundary wards in the orchard." She put on her housecoat over her apron and dress, having thrown it on out of habit. She checked the pocket of her apron, feeling the comforting wood under her fingertips and the magic through the wand bristle the nerves in her hand.
Ever since the war ended, Bill checked the property monthly to make sure the charms were still working effectively. Anyone trying to cross them who didn’t have Weasley blood in them would, well, let’s say that they would need to get to St. Mungo’s straightaway if they wished to not turn into a gnome within twenty four hours.
It hadn't been too long, only a few months really, since her ordeal with Rabastan Lestrange and surviving everything that followed that trying time. Andromeda was a huge help and so was Audrey. She never realized how much she carried on her heart and soul for so long and how much impact it had on all the kids. She thanked her stars that everyone understood all too well and accepted what she was going through.
Molly toddled to the door, wand in hand, ready to send the gnomes that lived near the orchard outside of the family boundary lines since Arthur was getting up in years and she didn't want her parsnips to get eaten before they were ready for harvest. The dropped apples were fine but not the parsnips.
She stepped outside, letting the kitchen door close and walked around the back of the house, ready to do battle with gnomes when her eyes fell upon two black robed figured, their wands pointed downward, and looking right at her.
A wordless spell flew from her wand instantly, flowing fast as thought. She'd not lost her nerve, not in the years since the war ended or her recovery from her ordeal. Instantly, one was immobilized, falling to the ground, his arms and legs frozen in the moment. Owein apparated a few feet away, trying to dodge the furious amount of spells flying his way. Every time he tried to plant his feet to cast a spell at the dumpy witch she’d buzz one right past his ears that he didn’t want to find out what it did. But he couldn't leave his friend Charlie behind, not if he hoped to pick up the bounty that was on Potter's head.
They said she was a housewife, damn it, not a dragon clad in human skin.
He apparated again, landing on the other side of an Oak tree, hiding behind the enormous trunk and hoping he could get a shot off. He’d stun her, wake Charlie up, and then they’d apparate back to Leyton, in London, to send the ransom Patronus.
Everyone they’d gone after for the bloody bounty was kicking their arse. How the bloody fuck did these people manage everything they’d done, not being the Muggle fuckers they are.
He looked down and saw three gnomes crawling up his robes, biting him wherever they could get a purchase. He screamed, feeling the sodding bastard bite down on a rather tender bit before getting hit in the face with a metal bowl. He tripped backward over a root, falling arse first into a huge pile of dragon dung, used to nourish the soil of the garden.
He rolled over, trying to keep from gagging from the stench filling his nostrils and as he opened his eyes, he saw the furious face of Molly Weasley standing over his body, dousing him with hundreds of pounds of parsnip and potato peels, some reeking of having been in a compost pile for probably months now. He froze, seeing her wand casually pointed at his nose.
He gulped.
She frowned and lowered her voice and a cedar wand pointed at his nose. "Who sent you after me?" her voice was as cold as a Scottish Loch in the middle of the deepest winter. "Tell me now."
"If I tell, they will kill me."
"They aren't here right now, are they? Tell me now."
"I can't tell," he whimpered. “I took an Unbreakable Vow.”
Her voice grew soft, so soft he strained to hear her. "You do know that self-defense is a legitimate reason to use the killing curse. And by your appearance, you're the ones who went after Andromeda, Teddy, and Luna. Now tell me who, otherwise you will cease to exist," Molly bent over his face, her features screwing up like he Mum used to do, "and they will never, ever find your remains."
“I can’t.”
She smiled and he felt his spine seize up. “You can’t be more than, what, 17? You’re probably too young to remember,” her voice dropped to a whisper. “Mummy probably scared you to stay into bed by telling you that Bellatrix Lestrange would come kidnap you if you got out of bed, yes, or that You know Who would take you away if you didn’t finish dinner?”
He nodded, barely.
“I killed Bellatrix in a dual, by myself. Now tell me.”
He uttered a name and felt... nothing happen. Those bastards. They tricked him into thinking he'd taken an Unbreakable Vow. Everything he’d done was because of what he thought was a bloody Unbreakable Vow.
He watched her point her wand back at his heart. "When you wake, you will be in custody at the Ministry. You told the truth and don’t deserve to share my Fred’s face." She motioned with her left hand and he saw the white marble stone bench a couple of feet from his head. He turned back to see a lone tear falling down her cheek. “I’d suggest never returning here again. I won’t be so kind next time.”
A red beam shot out of her wand, stunning him unconscious.
He woke sometime later, feeling like someone had dropped a hippogriff on his head, while sharing a cell with Charlie and facing down a rather irate Auror Ron Weasley and a bemused Auror Harry Potter.
“Glad to see you back Charlie, Owein.” Potter pushed the glasses back up his nose.
“I see you tried to go after Mum.” Ron’s smile was frightening. He saw where he got the smile from. “You’re lucky she didn’t treat you like the chickens we have for Sunday dinner.”
So the ficlet of @ballerinaroy got me thinking while deep into my morning coffee...
What would be the love language(s) of these two adorable garden gnomes? In what ways do they convey how much they love one another besides saying ILY?
I’ll throw a few out and hope others chime in.
This is a bit long so under a cut to save others.
Ron:
Words: Absolutely. Ron has no problem saying ILY but also the mother hen tending that the others need/want/can’t do for themselves.
Trinkets and Baubles: He’ll tell you in those dark and brooding moments he’d love to spoil people with baubles and trinkets but his upbringing holds him in such anxiety that he has trouble doing such. (Hermione’s reaction to the perfume didn’t help.) So he asks first and if he can, he does. But he’s better with the kids than anyone else - including his wife. (Though her crying when he proposed with the ring he picked out did help.)
Quality time spent: Absolutely. He adores sitting at home, relaxing with the wife and kiddos. Travel isn’t as much (the anxiety about money) and it’s only after they have been working a few years and have galleons in their vault that they will travel more. Big flashy trips aren’t what they want but small ones driving on the M1 into the country and staying in out-of-the-way places is his preference (sometimes Magically, sometimes the muggle way.)
Acts of Service: He’s the definition of acts of service.
Touch (hugs and more) He’s always giving positive touch. His cup never runs out for giving a hug (to Harry, too, when he needs/wants it.) for his wife (and more!) and the kids.... the kids are never touch starved if Dad is there.
Hermione:
Words: While she’s not as apparently affectionate with her words (at least in public) hers is more subtle and takes time to learn. She’ll ask if he has everything he needs for work, or other subtle ways. Ron knows she adores him if he does occasionally need her to say it outright and forthright.
Trinkets and Baubles: She will give gifts and sometimes they are rubbish and sometimes brilliant. She gives baubles and trinkets more readily than anything else, once she learns how to pick out something practical and useful.
Quality time spent: For certain. Ron is her favorite person (and even after they have the kids, and while she loves them so much and will kill anyone for them, Ron is still her favorite person. The kids know but also learned from him that her spending time with them, since she works so much at the Ministry, is how she shows her affection with them.
Acts of service: She has her ways of showing it and sometimes they come across as either infantilizing or critical but for Ron, it’s her way of showing appreciation for him. A cup of tea made for him as he wakes from work, lunch made for his shift, helping him pass his work tests as an Auror, etc. But the mother hen route that Ron takes? She’s rubbish at it. Even after the kids are older and off at Hogwarts she’s still reliant on him to help her balance her life out.
Touch: Once she’s with Ron, it’s a hell yes. Girl was touch starved for years and didn’t realize it. But once she got to have regular hugs (and shags!) you’ll find her constantly touching him if they are close proximity, whether it’s a hand on his back or holding hands or leaning into him.
A family member let me know that they now have changed their pronouns to they/them, would appreciate being referred to as nibling (rather than niece/nephew), and changed their name some (still trying to settle on something they are happy with).
As with dear daughter, my answer is “OK. Will do.”
I won’t tag them here for obvious reasons (they follow me so it’s more vague blogging and all) but for those who do know me, y’all will find out more.
@nagemeikenu - I might have a q or two later on or I might send them your way (with your consent) if they need any assistance I can’t answer properly.
They’re busy right now but I’m sure I’ll hear more later on when there’s time to natter and chat.
on how to learn ASL (American Sign Language) and the one site I used as a reference (since mine is old and my hearing impairedness is in the last few years or so...) is now rubbish and won’t work on my computers,
I have another source, from the premier one in the US for those interested:
(Gallaudet University is the one I know of that is for those who are D/deaf (and someone I went to school with got a full ride there back in the Dark, Dark ages!))
I would start with the basics, learning from the bottom on up - letters and numbers and basic phrases.
ASL is visual and contextual, as I learned it, and, quite frankly, damn useful.
BSL - British Sign Language - is different and I’ve not tried to learn it, yet. (I should for DD sake.)
