#and a sketchbook but who cares about that?

[delirium1217]

A World Alone

James/Regulus

First wizarding war AU

⋆｡°✩˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗⋆｡°✩

“Why do you think people drift away?”

James stared at the cigarette in his hands. Like it had all the answers. It didn’t, it was just another thing that burned.

Press to the lips. Inhale. He didn’t wait for Regulus to answer. 

“Because I think -“ he faltered, his hands shook. “It’s because they find something other than what they signed up for. The fine print, no one really cares. Not when they’re nineteen, not when love’s never felt like this - fickle, but still glowing. Not when there’s a war happening.” He heard himself say. His index finger chipped away the white paint. He was rambling - he never knew how to control his tongue.

He didn’t say anything back, James didn’t expect him to. Regulus didn’t owe him anything. Not a thing.

“Isn’t-“Regulus said. Hesitant. He was always hesitant, at first, at least. He cleared his throat, starting over. “I don't know what led you here - and you won’t exactly tell me.” James started to protest but Regulus shut him down. “And I don’t blame you. But you- this sort of desperation, it’s not, productive.”

It was unfair of James to tell him any of this. Rope him into whatever cascade of emotions had been unravelling in his mind.

James kept staring at the rain.

“I just thought it’d be - I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but I just thought I'd keep my family, my friends, people I cared about, around me. I knew it’d be awful, I just didn’t think I’d be this lonely.” His voice broke on the last few words, he glanced at Regulus. “No offence,” he said, sheepishly. 

“You think my idea of a good time is 6 months of being stuck in a tiny house during a war with someone who thought I was still fighting against him?” Regulus almost laughed, it’s odd, definitely self-deprecating. Not meant for James to feel bad. He still did. He stared at Regulus’ shoulder, where James’ curse hit him a few days ago. His soul felt heavy.

He saw him staring. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.” This is not the first time Regulus has said this. 

“Still. I should’ve known the Order would’ve recruited you, of all people.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I, well, you know. You never felt like the um, evil, type. I suppose.” That was the wrong thing to say.

“What exactly does the evil type look like?” Regulus was staring at him, intensely. Staring at James like what he said mattered, when it didn’t. The war had blurred all lines. This was no exception. 

“Well they don’t carry around sketchbooks like their life depends on it, for one.” He wanted to deflate this situation - he couldn’t stand the way Regulus was staring at him, like he hadn’t felt like a helpless child every day for months now. He was looking for answers James was dying to figure out. Regulus finally looked away, and stayed quiet for a while. 

“I didn’t carry a sketchbook, it was a journal.” Regulus said, almost mumbling. “And I didn’t think you noticed.” he added, somehow even quieter.

“Are you kidding? You carried that thing everywhere - I remember classes where you did nothing but scribble in there. You were so focused, and I was confused because what was so enticing about potions? But I figured it out later.” James heard himself say, almost rambling again. The memory was a worn out one, of quiet afternoons and boredom, of watching the quiet boy in the corner of the classroom - wary of what he might turn out to be.

Was he right to be worried? His eyes dropped to Regulus’ forearm. He felt his soul shatter for what seems like the millionth time this year.

He looked up again, Regulus was looking at him from the corner of his eye, a strange expression on his face. 

He was hunched in over himself. The patio was bigger than some of the house’s rooms, rickety sodden wood painted in chipping white paint. Regulus almost looked small, in a rocking chair lined with striped cushions, sun-bleached and mothy. The pale blue lights from the house behind him was a backdrop for his silhouette - a halo emerging behind his head. James himself was sitting directly on the wood, with a water-repellent spell that was slowly wearing off.

Regulus looked away, staring at the darkness in the opposite direction. “Well, you’re wrong. About the Order recruitment thing, I mean. They didn’t recruit me - I kind of had to beg for them to listen.” 

“Sirius di-“

“He didn’t know.” Regulus cut him off, “I don’t know how it works, but I suppose it’s not a thing they’d inform the entire Order about. I, uh, had to ‘present my case’ to unbiased parties.” His voice was only slightly bitter, blink and you’ll miss it. James couldn’t believe it.

He found himself fuming. “He’s your brother, he should’ve known! Or at least had the chance to talk to you! What if they didn’t take you seriously? What if you were caught?” His voice rose, almost as if the desperation he’s felt all these months had found a target. An eligible figure to hurl all the hurt at.

 “We both know that’s not how secret espionage works, James.” Regulus said back, eyes downturned, the words defeated and hollow. The voice of a man who had ran across this line of rumination countless times. The frown of someone much older than twenty years of age.

 Something was off. Then, it slowly dawned on him.

“Regulus, how long ago was this?” he asks, already dreading the answer.

“Three years.” Resonant voice ringing in the dead of night. He finally looked up. Eyes sober as they locked onto James’ own. They stared at each other for a moment. James did not know what his face held but it seemed to transfix Regulus. His eyes searched his face, and he hoped he didn’t misconstrue the desperation for indifference. 

Whatever lightness the conversation held, fled through the floorboards and sprinted across the country side. 

“And Sirius doesn’t know?” James whispered.

Regulus shook his head. “Barely anyone knows.”

“Regulus, you don’t know how many times-“James paused, his emotions a cauldron threatening to spill over. He cleared his throat. “He’s lost sleep over this. About whatever they were making you do. This - he thought he lost you. He looked for your name so often, people started questioning him. Remus had to stop him from crossing enemy lines so many times. Regulus, he mourned you.” it all seemed to tumble out of him, edging on the side of hysterics. He was now fully facing Regulus, his back to the rain. 

Regulus didn’t break his gaze. But his eyes were almost glazed over. James recognized that look. He was shutting down. His mouth turned into a thin line.

James couldn’t help it, he kept going. “I thought - when they told me they were sending me to a safe house, and then I saw you - even though I thought you were seconds away from killing me - the first thing I thought was ‘Merlin, won’t Sirius be relieved Regulus is still alive.’”

That pulled out a laugh out of Regulus, somehow. The sound of it high and clear in the night. It didn’t belong here. He had the urge to chase it, to refuse to let anything taint it. It was precious, it was rare. He refused to let it be wasted.

He found himself smiling, too. “I guess that’s stupid, huh?” he said. He didn’t mind making fun of himself, even if only to keep Regulus away from a broken expression that shattered his heart into a million pieces. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” Regulus replied, voice dropping low. The defeated expression was dampened now, replaced by a sort of softness. Something in James’ chest unfurled.

James looked across the wet terrain that made up the front yard. The rain had stopped, trickling noises off of the roof filled the silence. The surrounding houses off in the distance were aglow with a warm orange.

They were safely isolated from the rest of the village, but he could still see signs of life. Muggle families with a house garden and school children, he pictured them talking about irrelevant tiny details - the hum and drum of domestic life. They were unaware of two strangers, bathed in the pale blue fluorescent lights of a dangling patio light bulb.

Regulus made no noise as he went back inside the house, the rattle of the door faintly spreading across the air.

⋆｡°✩˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗⋆｡°✩

snippet from ch.2 of my fanfic, but could work on its own as a one-shot, really.

A World Alone - Chapter 2 - delirium1217 - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own]

[rollingaroundin-bread]

Okay y’all I’ve got a pad of sticky notes, a pencil, 2 pens, and every color of highlighter. Give me art requests please!

[critterbitter]

Language divides and building bridges.

Elesa’s feeling homesick. Emmet, bless his heart, tries to help by infodumping while Ingo frantically runs off to find water (crying is a very dehydrating experience).

((Would you look at that! The kids are picking up kantonese and galarian from each other!))

BONUS:

Heh. Callback.

Want to see more? Here’s the masterpost for submas!

[finn-from-adventure-time]

Y’all I’m a believer in “life is short, be as cringe as you want” until the day I die, but that will not stop me from getting a random blast of internal embarrassment whenever I realize JUST how obsessed I am with utdr. Like girl calm down. It’s okay. They’re not real. They’re pixels on a screen. There’s no need to be in such a state about them. (I am always in a state about them)

[boneinator]

They do be chilling thooo

(reblogs > likes !!)

[chromaherder]

“I’m starting to think you’re charging in blind on purpose”

Mike gets beat up more often than he cares to admit but he doesn’t mind knowing he’s got his cleric to back him up.

Also bonus scribble peeking out that felt a bit too ambitious, but might be fun to go back to

Take care of those hands lest you get carpal tunnel :^)

Thanks to everyone who sent messages in! The kind words really warmed my heart too 🥹

Only had time for a couple scribbles today but now I have great suggestions to warm up to throughout the week!

[spookythesillyfella]

tony prepared the cereal !! sketch added the toppings !! and colin is a coward who won't eat what his partner and his sibling prepared for him !!

★ [ audio from "The Endorsed Frosted Crispy Sweets Prized Pals Commercial" – @/partycoffin on tumblr]

[opia-jpg]

an assortment of sketches and it's. suprise suprise! all marsfiol

[artsyebonyrose]

nervous habits around the castle, post kq3

[rubysparx]

I’ve done my part to de-sexualize genitalia especially penises and the problem is this seems to only effect me. As it happens many people are still saying things like “the artist/op would not draw a penis because they are good” and “the implication of genitalia is an implication of fetish which is bad” what if I killed you. I don’t know how to tell you this man but the individuals body just looks like that. And if you cannot see it without immediately thinking “this is sex!!” I need you to sit down with me and de-sexualize genitalia. I don’t care if you’re jumping around going “yayy yippeee yayy I love bulge ^_^” or if you’re going “ahh sin!! This is sin!!!!!” both of you need to shut the hell up actually

[potpourrifandoms]

A while back, I posted some out-of-context pictures from my “silly little Warhammer comic”, and I’m posting some more because I have now officially filled up two whole sketchbooks with this story! As dumb as it is, I am pretty proud of myself for pushing through and doing so much. 

My brother (the only person who reads the comic) isn’t here right now, so I will celebrate on Tumblr instead. I love you all and hope you find something to love as much as I love my ridiculous, extremely non-canon-compliant Warhammer comic. <3

[beesgav]

drew Liv in Sniper Wolf's outfit and then was asked who Otacon in this scenario would be so now I'm considering shoving my Saddest Soppingest Nerd in with the rest of my ever-growing tf2 oc cast

[starlooove]

What they don’t tell you about doing shit ur bad at for fun is that ur still worried about ppl seeing it 💀💀💀

[skunkes]

[bansheesofinisherin2022]

the more i read about franz kafka publishing dilemma, the more i hate it. because most of it was published by max brod, his literal best friend. and sometimes he put a little editor’s not in the pro- or epilogue and tries to justify going against kafka’s final decision to destroy all of his work - but it gets more and more wild. like i get keeping all of it for your private collection because, in the end, he was your friend. and i guess i can understand why u would want the entire world to read and appreciate some of your bestie’s best work because you truly believe he deserves the (posthumous) praise. in the annotations of my edition of the trial, max brod justifies it with kafka’s relatively mild reaction to work that has been published while was still alive as well as the fact that kafka apparently was fully aware that brod would never follow his wish. but to publish almost all of it? even the unfinished stuff? including his very personal diaries?????????? idc how much kafka’s wish to destroy it all was fueled by self-hatred and irrational thoughts or whatever. but to publish most of it less than 20 years after his death is just kinda disrespectful, right? or am i overreacting???

[kohaive]

everyone knows pirates and wizards get along like oil and water