𝗩𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗖𝗢𝗦: a dependent collection of muses written for morsfm , chronicled by leah ( twenty5, est timezone & she / her pronouns ).
alice longbottom , thirty4 , the order
sirius black , twenty4 , the order.
NASA
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ojovivo

blake kathryn
dirt enthusiast
Stranger Things

pixel skylines
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Love Begins
styofa doing anything
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Claire Keane
sheepfilms
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

JBB: An Artblog!

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TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Misplaced Lens Cap
will byers stan first human second

if i look back, i am lost

seen from Singapore

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@virescos
𝗩𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗖𝗢𝗦: a dependent collection of muses written for morsfm , chronicled by leah ( twenty5, est timezone & she / her pronouns ).
alice longbottom , thirty4 , the order
sirius black , twenty4 , the order.
the festive decorations do little to lift her mood — silver bells and enchanted lights can't quite dull the heaviness she feels tonight . she didn’t come to this gathering for the joy of it , not really . but as she wanders through the bustling market , she catches sight of artemisia burke ( @heartbloomings ) standing near a stall selling enchanted snow globes , her poised demeanor as unshakable as always . it strikes alice then , for the first time in months , just how much she misses the familiarity of that face . they used to laugh until their sides hurt , until their mothers scolded them for being too loud . now , there’s a gulf between them wider than the sea . and yet there she is , close enough to reach . in a moment of rare impulse , she sidles up next to her and lingers there for a moment , fingers idly twisting the frayed ends of her scarf as she deliberates her decision . " i remember loving these as children . " she starts before she can help herself , a warmth present in her tone that she can't quite keep out . she hesitates again , searing for the right words — something to bridge the gap without making it worse . " doing some last minute shopping ? " it feels wrong , to make small talk like this , but it's the most she can manage .
regulus remembers the amount of times that he's asked a nervous kreacher to give him a glass of his father's alcohol whenever there was a party. kreacher was lonely to his parents, but far more loyal to him, and regulus always phrased it as some sort of secret between the two -- the kind that he had with sirius -- when he was living under the same roof. he remembers the first time that he had ever gotten properly drunk he was meant to be meeting a future wife, they would start courting if it was a good match. and regulus didn't really want to ruin the mood by saying that he was rather gay and the thought of a wife made him want to throw up a little. safe to say, regulus had drank too much of his father's whiskey and too much of the elf wine he had ended the evening far earlier than intended by excusing himself, faking something that was passable and laid in his room. this was after sirius had left and now he thinks of that bitter memory anytime he drinks something stronger than mulled wine. hearing the familiar voice again, his fingers touch the side of the glass, his nose sniffing it and he lets out a breath. "smells like swill." his voice is sharp. "put father's whiskey to shame, really." he clears his throat.
sirius exhales a short laugh , the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes , and leans back against the edge of the nearby stall . he holds his own drink in one hand — a cheap ale he’s barely touched — and his other fingers drum against the edge of the stall like they’re itching for a cigarette or something , anything to distract himself from the pang in his heart . “ father’s whiskey, huh ? ” he muses , voice light but laced with something sharper . “ that’s setting a pretty low bar , don’t you think ? anything’s better than something that tastes like aged despair . ” or disappointment in a bottle , but that goes without saying . nothing quite said black family traditions like drowning in something you didn't even like .
the eldest black son tilts his head to the side , studying his brother with a mix of curiosity and caution , the first time he's laid eyes on him in what feels like eons . it’s in the way his gaze falters for the briefest moment , catching the features that are so like his own and yet so foreign . he doesn’t just see regulus — he sees the childhood they shared , the secret smiles , and the fierce protectiveness against their parents' oppressive expectations . but that was before , and the before feels so distant now . he clears his throat abruptly , blinking away the mirage of memories floating into the forefront of his mind . " so are you just sniffing that for old times’ sake , or are you planning to actually drink that swill ? "
the holidays never ranked at the top of lucius's favorite times of the year. the air carried a chill sharp enough to shatter bones, mingled with the copious number of events deemed as celebrations of family and friends. the malfoy boy didn’t have much of either anymore. the only reason he found himself dressed in his finest layers was the need to search for his mother’s gift. as he moves from booth to booth, lucius pauses, already regretting his attendance at these particular stalls, surrounded by specific people. “an expert in mulled wine now, are we?” he remarks, his pale, angular face remaining composed as his gaze settles on sirius. “i suppose this means you’ll be found here for the remainder of this pathetic excuse for a market.”
instead of immediately responding , he takes a slow , deliberate sip from the steaming cup in his hand , allowing the wine to linger far longer than it should on his tongue . " an expert ? no, no , ” sirius adjusts his stance against the stall as his head shakes slowly , the perfect image of someone with clearly nowhere else to be . " but compared to the company , i seem to be the most entertaining option here . so perhaps i am a connoisseur of something , after all . ” his gaze flickers deliberately over lucius’s pristine layers , expression a touch too casual to be kind . “ and you ? you’re a long way from the manor , malfoy . who knew holiday markets were such a draw for the disillusioned elite ? ”
at the sound of sirius's voice , artemisia falters ever - so - slightly ; for a moment , she wonders if her younger cousin is actually attempting conversation with her or not . when she realizes that he is in fact watching her , her thoughts begin to swirl . she definitely shouldn't be speaking to him , especially as she has her own reasons to not rouse suspicions from their family and associates . the only member of the noble house of black that knows emi's closest guarded secret , is her grandmother belvina — and she's no longer around . if gossip travels saying she's in contact with sirius , no matter how inconsequential it is ? ugh ... artemisia doesn't want to think about the repercussions . because she knows , there will be some sort of repercussion . but , a hufflepuff is still a hufflepuff even when they cradle darkness in their heart . there's a sentimentality she holds for him . family is important to her and regardless of differences — of what the rest say — he's still family . even if it's painful to admit when she's trying so desperately to be like them .
she clears her throat suddenly , almost too forced to be considered casually . tis the season to run into estranged family members . " somehow i find that hard to believe , " emi begins , tone one of vague disbelief . " mulled wine is usually made with the cheap stuff . not that cost is immediately indicative of grape ripeness , of course , but ... " her words trail off as she turns her attention back to the list , once more scanning it thoroughly . " i suppose if i buy it and hate it , i can just give it to asterion or something . he's young and thinks he's invincible , he'll drink practically any alcohol you give him — which is stupid . and dangerous . "
sirius quirks a brow , a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he watches her deliberate , the flicker of the market lights catching faintly in his stormy gray eyes . he pushes off the stall with ease , stepping just close enough to make his presence more undeniable. " cheap wine or not , it does the job . " his shoulders lift in a practiced shrug , but there's an undercurrent of warmth there that those familiar would catch . " besides , i don’t think it has as much to do with the quality of the wine . it's more about who you’re drinking it with — or who you’re drinking it to avoid . ” his eyes glimmer , a flicker of something genuine crossing his face before it fades back into that familiar , practiced detachment . he knows better than most how the weight of family expectations can choke a person , how it can twist one into knots they don’t even realize they’re in until it’s too late . he knows that feeling all too well .
when she mentions asterion, sirius huffs a short laugh , shaking his head . “ merlin , he is stupid if he’ll drink anything handed to him . that kind of naivety gets you killed these days . " it seems glaringly obvious , but one sirius feels the need to proclaim nevertheless . " but hey , if you do end up liking it , i won't tell anyone that i was the one to recommend it to you . your secret will be safe with me . " he leans slightly closer, his voice dropping into something quieter , a bit sharper , though the edges are softened with something lighter .
he’s pissed about his yuletide post, so alice’s calculated bombardment regarding baby making doesn’t entirely mend his current stormy mood . he focuses hard on the motions, the ritual of getting ready for work, ignoring her attempts to crack him open, make him give . usually, she has the power to convince him of anything . but this is the one thing he refuses. to bend on . tension presses at his shoulders . “ not now, @virescos . ” he mutters, words clipped and final . this is how it always is, alice starting the essential conversations, and frank ending them without give . “ we're not discussing this now . ”
alice leans against the edge of the dresser , arms crossed over her chest , watching him with an intensity that could burn through stone . she knows this dance all too well : her pushing , his shutting down . it’s as familiar as the rhythm of their own breaths . " of course we're not , " her jaw tightens at his clipped tone, but she forces herself to exhale , steadying the turmoil that threatens to rise in her own chest . " because if it's not now , it's never , isn't it ? " she takes a step forward , the edge in her voice as steady as her resolve . " you can't just shut me out any time you don't want to have a conversation . that's not how this works . "
“ that’s what i was betting on, ” peter shoots back, grinning, snow-damp curls falling across his face as he tips his head towards the vendor, a pass of a handful of sickles for a drink . the warmth of it travels slow and steady, chasing away the bite of the cold, the weight of a life and looming decisions beyond the yuletide festivities . “ but maybe you’d better stick to the pumpkin juice, paddy . wouldn’t want you getting too reckless, would we ? ”
never one to let a jab go unanswered , he straightens up from his slouched position against the wall as his gloved hands sweep dramatically over his heart as if wounded . " pumpkin juice ? i didn't realize we stooped to insults of this magnitude , pete . " he counters , the corners of his mouth twisting into a wolfish grin . sirius slings an arm around his friend's shoulders as he trades his own coins for another drink . " i thought recklessness was half of my charm . have you forgotten how to have fun ? "
she abandoned her search for her daughter . a neurotic mother never rests, but she does, at some point, sometimes, take the hint . it’s difficult for andromeda to let go in these situations . to concede control, knowing the dangers that lurk about . but she understands the feeling of choking on a tight lead, and she’s not interested in transforming into the person holding it . she’s both felt and observed the consequences of holding on too tight, and she has no intention of repeating those mistakes . “ speaking from experience ? ” she muses, approaching the stall . “ sounds perfect . i’ll take two . ”
“ from experience ? ” he repeats , his voice low , drawling , with a hint of something too casual to be completely earnest . “ oh, absolutely . how else do you think i survive these quaint little holiday outings ? it's the only thing that keeps the cold , or the company for that matter , bearable . ” his gaze flickers toward the vendor as if contemplating her order with some level of theatrical skepticism, then back to her with his classic rogue smile . " two , though ? that's a bit ambitious , andromeda . " his eyes slide past her , expecting to see someone else trailing close behind . " where's dora ? i thought she'd be with you . "
⌜ introduction / pinterest / connections ⌟
ah, is that SIRIUS ORION BLACK emerging from the shadows? the TWENTY FOUR YEAR OLD, pureblood man who currently spends their days as an KNIGHT BUS CONDUCTOR. people from GRYFFINDOR are known for being fearless, charismatic, and humorous, but also for their impulsive, guarded, and brooding tendencies—perhaps it all adds up after all. they say HE has aligned themselves with THE ORDER. whispers carry far in these uncertain days. let me tell you what i’ve heard: SIRIUS evokes a single, flickering lantern suspended in suffocating gloom / veins of crimson etched into the whites of your eyes, a constellation of exhaustion and unrest / the bittersweet weight of an old leather jacket pulled from the depths of a dusty trunk / a loud burst of laughter in the dead of night / the taste of regret lingering in your throat as you watch familiarity walk away, their silhouette burning itself into your mind like the last trace of a dying star, effortlessly and is said to be the mirror image of the muggle DEAKEN BLUMAN. let’s just hope HE hears the truth before the obscura has a chance to change their mind.
sirius leans lazily against the edge of a vendor’s stall , the sharp scent of evergreen and roasted chestnuts mingling with the faint bite of snow yet to fall . his hands , clad in worn leather gloves , toy idly with the hem of his scarf — black wool with silver threads glinting faintly under the market’s flickering fairy lights . he tugs it loose, letting the chill nip at his neck as if daring the cold to faze him . " careful ---- " he drawls to no one in particular , though his eyes land on the closest figure debating the list of refreshments . " the mulled wine is especially strong this year . "
Deaken Bluman. Photograph: Stewart Shining
MAI DAVIKA as NUBDAO ASTROPHILE (2022) dir. Koo Ekkasit