(I am the unholy amalgamation of an old lady knitting in a comfortable armchair and a fourteen year old boy clowning for attention.)
• I draw and write
• Not a native English speaker
• Minor
About what I post:
- click here to see the fanarts
- here to see my text-based posts (headcanons, yapping and fics.)
• I've posted a lot about the marauders, but I'm opening up to other fandoms I am a part of and want to make content for
- Marauders-related posts
- The Magnus Archives posts
- Cult of The Lamb posts
- The Mistholme Museum posts
- The Amazing Digital Circus posts
More to come! Probably
Despite being part of a fandom related to HP, I do not support J.K. Rowling or her actions. (Don't buy merch, don't support her, she can go fuck herself.)
Below the cut is a list of stuff I made that I'm proud of!
★ My animatics! :
(or things I can't classify as anything other than an animatic)
- 31 of October 1981 | ≈20 seconds, 'typical story' by Hobo Johnson
- Sirius's trial | ≈3 min, 'We both reached for the gun' from the Chicago musical
☆ My Ao3 works:
- Thrift Shop 》 Jegulus, Regulus-centric one shot
- Curiosity Killed The Cat 》 Jegulus, no Voldemort AU, multichapter in progress
the magnus archives and its running theme of antagonistic forces being polite,,,
-"It Is Polite To Knock", first and foremost. and there's a running theme of antagonistic forces knocking. eg, Jane Prentiss never attempting to force her way in to Martin's house, but standing outside and knocking for days on end, Natalie knocking politely on Kathy's door when she tries to recruit her to the Dark cult and never barging in, etc etc
-the Distortion doesn't tend to force people to enter, it waits for people to come in on their own
-Mike Crew's "I was trying so hard to be polite"-- and his attempt was pretty solid! he was legitimately polite up until then, and would have probably continued being polite if Jon didn't keep doubling down
-Peter Lukas cares about proper workplace management and takes actual workplace suggestions from his employees. And agrees to do fewer murders.
-the ONE thing Jonah-Elias is famous for is apologizing. Imagine the most evil thing you do in your life is apologizing for the deception
meanwhile the archival staff are beating each other to death while calling each other 12 slurs per day. they've never tried to be polite for a single second of their lives.
Okay, so yesterday afternoon we had a double earthquake (7.2 and 7.5 with multiple aftershocks) in Venezuela. Fortunately, the place where I live wasn't affected, but Caracas and other states near the epicenter did suffer building collapses, and people are still missing.
You can see some pictures here (Instagram).
Many people lost their homes, and a state of alert was declared today (yesterday we even had the possibility of a tsunami, which thankfully is no longer present). Venezuela doesn't have the resources to recover, and the total losses are still unknown... please pray for us, we need it.
WAYS YOU CAN HELP VENEZUELA BY SHARING THIS INFORMATION:
My best friend helped me gather this information. If you have the time, we would greatly appreciate it if you could share it so it reaches the people who need it:
Gofundme: Emergency relief for Venezuela earthquake victims
(Argentina) Donations are being received here to send to those affected in Venezuela
Veterinary help for affected animals
More resources and information to help those affected by the earthquakes in Venezuela (images with information after the cut)
Most of this information is in Spanish, but we appreciate your help by sharing and donating if you have the opportunity.
Headcannon that Martin starts the story with long-ish hair and Jon with short, neat hair. And that through the seasons, Martin cuts it shorter and shorter while Jon's grow out uncontrollably.
“What do you mean,” James said patiently, though he sounded anything but, “he can’t have his wand back?”
Regulus lifted his chin as the clerk’s gaze flicked towards him and away just as quickly. He’d grown quite used to such looks. Fleeting, judgemental things. The sort that made his stomach tight. The sort that made him wonder if surviving the cave was worth it, when his second chance at life might be this bleak.
“Mr. Potter,” said the clerk, matching James’s faux-patience, “as an officer of the DMLE, you should know better than most that those who served You-Know-Who remain subject to wand restriction. Indefinitely.”
“He’s not one of them,” James said, and Regulus thought he might be sick right then and there. He stood straighter. His shoulders ached.
Though he knew it was coming, he still had to keep from cringing when she asked, “Mr. Black, would you roll up your left sleeve?”
“Don’t,” James snapped, then softened. “Sorry. I just—You don’t have to do that.”
Regulus was quite proud his voice didn’t shake when he spoke. “Of course,” he said. “We all know what’s there, don’t we?”
Beside him, James went very still. It was worse than the stares, worse than standing there in some impersonal government room asking permission to hold what had been his since he was eleven. Regulus knew very well what shame was, but now he’d shown it.
“We should go,” he said quietly.
James shook his head. “No. No, I’m not having it. He’s a wizard. He has a right to his own wand.”
It didn’t surprise him. James and all his righteousness never backed down. But the Ministry was a beast that did not baulk at James Potter’s bravado and broad shoulders.
“No,” replied the clerk. “He doesn’t.”
Death Eaters don’t have rights, she didn’t say. She wanted to. It was there in the curl of her lip. A little snarl, all for him.
Still, James drew a sharp breath, primed to argue.
Before he could, Regulus said, “Jamie, please,” and James turned like gravity had taken hold of him. He searched Regulus’s face a few moments longer than he needed to and nodded in defeat when he found what he was looking for.
“All right,” he sighed, though they both knew it wasn’t. “All right, Reg.” He took Regulus’s hand firmly in his and turned back to the clerk, who merely watched. “We’ll be back. I promise you that,” he said, and didn’t wait for an answer before leading Regulus out of the office.
They didn’t speak again, not once, until James stepped out of the floo after Regulus. In the safety of their home, away from bureaucracy and the stares and the cold marble of the Ministry, James hauled Regulus into a hug and said, his voice resolute, “I love you.”
Regulus wound tight arms around him and cradled the back of his head. “I know,” he said, trying to lighten his tone. “Did you think I couldn’t tell, with the way you defended my honor so viciously?”
James didn’t laugh. “I’m not letting this go.” His words came muffled from between them. “I’ll write a thousand fucking letters if I have to. I’ll play politics. I will.”
He drew back to look up at Regulus, eyes bright and furious.
“I’ll become head of the fucking DMLE if that’s what it takes. I’m clearing your name.”
Regulus swallowed. “What an ambitious promise.”
“Well, it’s one I mean to keep,” James said, and leaned up to kiss him soundly.
Regulus sank into it, knowing James would hold him upright, and thought, quite distinctly, that his second chance at life didn’t look so bleak after all.
Disaster (aug 27) - @jeggyverses-jegulus-microfic - wc: 511 - modern au
Regulus’s plan was a disaster and he, a wreck. He wanted to scream but his parents were downstairs, and already suspicious enough of where he’d been all evening.
Out of some lasting anger and growing distress, he pressed Remus’s contact on his phone. Saved as ‘future brother-in-law’ just to fuck with him and Sirius.
Didn’t even text first, not that he cared for Remus to be warned. Still, the calm voice on the end of the line answered him with an unsurprised “Hello, Regulus.” Like he expected this, and he probably did. “How was the-”
“You knew.” Regulus interrupted him with a hiss.
The only response Remus gave was silence followed by a sigh.
“You knew it’d be like that, didn’t you? That’s why you weren’t worried.” Silence, “I want an answer.”
“I did try to warn you.”
“You said it wouldn’t work, you didn’t say-” Regulus groaned in frustration, grabbing the nearest pillow to throw it against the wall “Fuck.”
The plan was simple: take (be taken by) James Potter on a date, charm him, make him hope and promptly leave him out to dry. Some small act of petty vengeance including no one getting seriously hurt but enough to quiet down years of resentment and allow Regulus to move on with his life.
“I take it that the date went well.” Although he was well aware Remus couldn’t see him, Regulus glared at the phone.
“Too well.” He replied through his teeth.
Not for him to have convinced Sirius to tell him about all the things he liked and remembered them. Not for him to have asked his mother to help him prepare a decent picnic. Not for him to take Regulus to the small river bank at the edge of town, where you could see the stars so well. Not for James to make him laugh and smile
What he hadn’t accounted for was James’s charm. Sure, he knew the looks and stupid smiles that made half the school fall for the idiot but that’s the thing, he hadn’t expected anything else.
.
And most of all, he certainly didn’t plan for James to admit he’d wanted to take him out for months but hadn’t dared until Regulus made the first move. All of it, looking at Regulus with those shining hazel eyes like he hung the damn moon.
Gone to the wind his plan when Regulus had nodded, mind blank except for the single thought of “Yeah, next week sounds perfect.”
And oh, a few blocks away from the prying eyes of his parents, they’d said goodbye. How James had gingerly kissed the back of his hand with that childish smile that made Regulus’s cheeks burn. “Can we do this again? Next week?”
“Fuck you, Lupin.” He murmured to the phone, earning a small chuckle from the other side.
The image of Sirius desperately trying to make James see reason managed to drag a smile out of Regulus. Sure, he’d take it.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, James just announced it to your brother and he’s positively mortified.”
“Oops, didn’t see you there Ev!” Barty hollered from one of the openings atop a tower of the castle, down to Evan, drenched in water and nothing but seething.
“I’m going to kill him.” He muttered to a mildly furious Dorcas, who had to suffer collateral splash damage.
“Not If I kill you both first Rosier, what the hell did you do to him?”
You reap what you saw. Barty had justified himself.
Evan turned so fast it made her jump “Me? What I did? I didn’t do anything! He’s just gone mad!”
Looking both unimpressed and absolutely done, Dorcas continued “Nothing? Evan, he’s been at it for a week.”
“It’s not my problem how he deals with his emotions.”
“It is when he’s pulling stuff like that on you.” She said, pinching the wet fabric of his clothes “So, you did do something.”
Evan stopped in his tracks, to Dorcas's confusion she could only see his shoulders tense. “I didn’t- We- . He can’t make a fuss just because he bloody regrets-” He took a sharp breath “It’s not fair.”
His tone was tight and Dorcas considered him for a moment. “Let’s go, we need to change.” He wiped his eyes and nodded but she added one thing, “Ev?”
Evan turned back towards her, the gentle frown and genuinely concerned though understanding eyes almost enough to make him choke a bit.
“Talk to him.”
***
The cold traversing Evan’s back when he opened the door to his room hit far deeper than the bucket of water thrown on his head. Didn't help that he was still soaked and shivering.
Barty sat there, sprawled on his bed — Evan’s bed. Like he owned it. To think that if he wasn’t being a shithead about it all, Evan might let him.
Because the way Barty’s shirt bunched up in a way that left a small part of his stomach exposed, and that jerk’s smug, knowing grin, lit up a whole new kind of rage.
“Get off my bed.”
Barty didn’t move, or answer. And Evan decided he wasn’t dealing with this still covered in drenched fabric. Only when he opened his drawer, Barty spoke.
“What are you doing?”
“Changing.” He breathed through gritted teeth. Like the bastard didn’t know damn well.
The smile in Barty’s voice when he asked “Why?”
Taking a deep breath, Evan locked the door to the bathroom, in silence. He was not going to give him that satisfaction.
When he emerged, Barty hadn’t moved an inch. But Evan needed to sit to put his socks on and last time he checked, it was still his bed. So, without even speaking, Evan plainly pushed him out of the way.
Like a cat to the piece of food you forbid, Barty crawled back next to him, only nesting closer than he’s previously had been “Why are you ignoring me?”
“Because you’re being a dick.”
He scoffed “Yeah, ‘cause you started it.”
Evan’s fist tightened on itself. “I didn't start shit.”
Instead of answering, like a normal person would, Barty did what only Barty could think of: charged at Evan, pinning him flat onto the bed. A hand next to his head and another one quickly coming to fit on his side.
Evan’s heart started pounding louder and louder into his chest as the pressure of Barty’s hand gained in firmness and he recognized the scene.
“You’ve made your point.” He hissed, looking anywhere but the other boy's face. His face was burning although what he felt was beyond embarrassment. Shame, betrayal, guilt. The dangerous cocktail of emotions made him slightly nauseous.
“Have I?” Barty whispered in an equally angry tone, though something a tad softer, undescernible hid beneath. He took a stand of Evan’s hair and twirled it around his finger. All of it in a perfect mockery of Evan's gestures, in this same bed, just about a week ago.
The hand slid to his cheek, under his chin, and soon enough Barty’s lips were almost brushing against his own. Not quite there, but enough to make Evan react.
“Fine!” He yelled, pressing a hand on Barty’s mouth to make him pull away, which he did with no resistance “Fine. I’m sorry, okay? You regret it. But you don’t fucking get to take it out on me! Remind me constantly that it was a mistake for you and hold me responsible. You were there. You kissed me back. Fucking live with it and stop making my life hell.”
Silence reigned over the room as Evan let his hand fall.
Barty’s grin faltered.
“You think I regretted it?”
“Didn’t you?” His voice was softer, less prone to accusation and more to confusion.
Barty sounded nearly as distraught “You were ignoring me. It was so awkward and silent and you weren’t even looking at me. Like it’d been nothing for you.”
Evan has propped himself up on his elbows, looking at Barty intensely, trying to find the certainty in his belief of what Barty implied.
“It wasn’t.” He whispered in a hesitant voice.
Barty smiled “I know. S’why I was mad.”
Reaching up, Evan grabbed a fistful of Barty’s hair and tugged, forcing him down to catch his lips in a rough kiss. “For the record arsehole,” he murmured, “you were weird first.”
sirius might be a questionable cook but he still learns how to make broth for the days remus feels sick or just can’t get out of bed. he watches tutorials until he gets the spicy noodles exactly the way remus likes them and buys a whole cookbook just to figure out different marinades for beef because he knows it’s remus’ favorite. he fucks it up more than once but keeps trying anyway because when sirius is in love he’s stubborn as hell and will do anything for that one sweet smile remus gives him when he takes the first bite
