#corduroy stew

[weevmo]

All they do is occasionally throw Bailey a Thank You for making them Happen! A 'Happy Happening Day' they express once in a while when they feel grateful.

Bailey can't do birthdays or big celebrations - but he has his moments of making an occasion special!

[distorted-smile]

The vision was so much better than the product…I heard the song and I wanted to do something with them for a while but but but my skills are not the level, I apologise. One day I’ll hopefully level up!!

Characters belong to @weevmo

Song: https://open.spotify.com/track/4F4OfDsEveignE19mYgj5V?si=GqWUL-gERHe6IixqzuwBBw

[kmodoposts]

More early audio exploration for Weevmo and I's 'Corduroy Stew'! Featuring the main theme in its odd glory. Everything subject to change, of course! Art: @weevmo

[i-like-eyes]

Drawing other’s puppet ocs is my new hobby btw. Corduroy Stew’s Lulu caught my eye I’m always a sucker for big hair

Character by @weevmo

[sketchy-tour]

Warmup doodle, wanted to try drawing @weevmo 's silly little guy Nimrod!!! Not sure I did him the right justice but he was fun to try and figure out shape wise!!

Love the character designs for their upcoming project Corduroy Stew so so much! Silly puppet guys! Nimrod is my favorite of the bunch by far. He's just so!!! *squishing him

[themanymoodsofben]

Help! I love him! 😭😭😭 @weevmo What a li’l guy!!

How tf does this site work…. I feel so old, lmfao.

[lucasva]

THE FRIENDS.

Characters owned by @weevmo

Voices all by me!

[sr-manteca]

Tea party with tim!

Nimrod Belongs to: @weevmo

Albert belons to : @kyleeartist

[soda-sparkss]

its nimmy!! everyone say hi to the blorbo by @weevmo

[weevmo]

The Stew Crew (And Dahlia's) height chart - Nailing this down for Reasons and things!

(@kmodoposts laid this out for me! Logo by Them)

[distorted-smile]

Characters belong to @weevmo.

Listen, the second one just felt right. I think I like all of them, the last one was a lot of fun.

I forgot one

[kmodoposts]

VERY early audio exploration for Weevmo and I's 'Corduroy Stew'! I've been creating some loose tracks to experiment with musical styles (because of course I am). Enjoy??

Art is by @weevmo

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

yeah so i'm falling for @weevmo's Guys... they're so neat! i dig their vibes and can't wait to see what Corduroy Stew is all about <3

[cu7ie]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(ꈍᴗꈍ)♡ nahoya's sarcasm,

⠀⠀⠀ˊᗜˋ sometimes, you just don't get it. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀♡

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀cw; dubious consent. i feel like i coded reader as neurodivergent. emotional manipulation. oral; male receiving.

Sometimes Nahoya’s sarcasm is waaay lost on you. And yeah, sometimes you have a harder time picking up on intonations than other people, but something about him seems far too complicated to understand. He’s deceptive - gets you all tripped up with the things he says in spite of the way he smiles and carries himself along. A discrepancy; the lack of congruency makes your eyebrow quirk, but it didn’t feel overbearing. Up until this past week.

It happened just the other day. Normally you consider him pleasant company, since he doesn't talk as much as Baji, isn't as self-centered as Mikey, doesn't need to be told what to do like Souya, isn't intimidating like Draken,

he just smiles; you find that considerably easier to get along with.

Worst thing about him is that sometimes he can say things that confuse you terribly.

You're minding your business as usual, and Nahoya's playing your game for you (because you swear this level is fucking impossible) chatting you up and overall being good company. Nahoya's never seemed the aggressive type, but something really stupid ends up killing him, and he gets a mite bit more irate than you would have thought; throwing your controller back at you in exasperation. 

When you tell him he oughta calm down, he doesn't take your opinion too well, spits out an angry "Suck my dick." and you look at him incredulous, sputtering and gasping about how inappropriate he's being;

Then he has the audacity to look confused, eyes darting up and down your frantic face, your hands flapping as an emotion you can't communicate in words starts setting in, makes your head hot and you feel upset but you don't know if that's all you feel —

"Why'd you even say that? That's nasty, Nahoya."

"I wasn't being serious." He seems a little taken aback by your frustration, perhaps a little amused too. He seems to have calmed down in the time it took you to get upset, his neutral smile crowning his expression as he approaches you, trying to get you to calm down but you're still a fair bit upset. 

It's only when he gives you that physical space do you mellow out; only to grow a little sheepish and uncomfortable with the way you reacted. That type of upset felt unbecoming of you, you try not to let things get to you (that's why you hang out with Nahoya so much, sometimes the others are just too much) but  of course, you're only human.

So the next time you invite Nahoya over (you stewed over the decision so long it gave you a stomach ache, just fear fear fear, hoping he doesn't hate you,) it's the next week and you guys are sitting on the same couch you guys fought on, an amiable silence pervading the space between the two of you. Nahoya doesn't look mad (thank God), and waits very politely until you gather the courage to tell him what you wanted him to say.

"I'm sorry I got so upset. I didn't like being that angry; even if you said what you said. So, sorry." Nahoya tosses you one of those winning smiles nice and easy (though he's always smiling, isn't he?) Takes your hand in his and holds it gently, leaning in conspiratorially; so slowly.

"You know what would make this a real nice apology?" You look at him, genuinely curious.

"If you sucked my dick." You kind of snort. Not overly amused by his antics but willing to understand it as a joke of some kind. 

But then , Nahoya - he leans in just a little bit closer? and you're asking him what's the matter, why's he got that weird look on his face.

"Because this time I'm serious." He takes the hand that he's holding and places it on his crotch. You're taken aback by the firmness of it, the outline that you now can see very clearly under his black corduroys.

"Do I have to?"

"Nah. Course not. But it would take this apology up at least six notches." He seems bored now, letting you move your hand back to your lap as you feel your cheeks burning, confused by his presentation. A dilemma but not quite.

"Well, do you forgive me?"

"Yeah. A little I guess."

"A little?" You pout.

"Well yeah. I mean, ya did ghost me for like a week, even after I said it was a joke, you still flipped out on me." (That's not exactly the truth, but something about how sure he sounds about himself makes you believe him, makes you think you really hurt him,)

"But I really am sorry. That's not enough?"

He thinks for a moment, still smiling. "If you're sooo sorry, I want you to show me." A sharper edge to his voice, a less than kind smirk.

"B-but I don't do stuff like that, Nahoya - I've never-"

"Well, now's a better time than never." He's unbuttoning his pants and shimmying them down his hips, so you can see the imprint in his boxers. He shunts them down and his cock bobs up like a buoy, uniformly thick and a little tan and long and while you're thinking about how that could possibly fit anywhere,

he's gripping your head and pulling you down, down down.

.

.

.

You learn that afternoon that Nahoya is not nice. You see the devil in his eyes and hell behind his smile. It’s smarmy, his hand roughly pinching the scruff of your neck as his cock slaps your lips and it takes him a couple tries to push it into your mouth, 

"Remember: Breathe through your nose and don't bite."  Is all he says before he pops your jaw open, sliding his shaft over your tongue and sighing at the hot wetness of your mouth, sinking low into the couch. He’s over eager and his true desire is spilling into the real world, humping your head under the guise of ‘savoring this apology’ , watching you drool helplessly on his cock with this amusement; something carefree bout him with the way his hand crawls almost affectionately into your hair. 

His fingers curl into it and he adjusts your pace, slowing as he meets resistance and fucking up harder, trying to beat the shape of his dick into your esophagus with carnal abandon and it’s just so - 

It’s overwhelming. All you can see is Nahoya’ s crotch and feel his balls slapping up against your chin; smelling him and tasting him and choking on-

You slap down on his thighs, which only makes him jump and your nose wrinkles because you are being pulled infinitely closer, the tip of it flattening against Nahoya’s wiry hair and the wet slapping noise pausing for a moment as he tries to cease the fog coming over him; having wholly underestimated how good you’d look between his thighs, and he’ s gonna - fuck- he’s going to-

A vein bulges on his forehead, cock twitching as his muscles tense up and he’s cumming down your throat in the next second, your whining overshadowed by his unabashed moan and sigh as his whole body relaxes and,

He’s done with your mouth; but he doesn't want to be done with you yet. You did just as well as he thought you would, those teary eyes afraid to make contact as you try to quiet your coughing and sputtering, bashfully wiping cum and spit from the corners of your mouth as you try to turn cheek and shroud yourself in the silence, 

(despite you being the one who got a taste, he looks like he wants to devour the rest of you,) 

Nahoya is quiet now. Something electric resonating beneath his skin as he takes you in like a much needed breath, fingers wrapping around your shoulder (which shocks you, you flinched) as he turns you back to face him, in spite of your reluctance, you feel weakness degradating your bones, wide anxious eyes and trembling lip, jittery little hands that can’t find the gumption to pry out the scythe digging into your shoulder. Nahoya is looking at you, like he’s allowing you the courtesy of speaking before snatching the platform from beneath your feet; hand creeping along your stomach, thigh.

 “That was … good.” He hasn’t put his dick away and doesn’t seem interested in much beyond how the rest of your insides must feel,

“I apologized. You oughta leave n-now. This.. it’s over now.” Your voice is a little hoarse and your throat stings; and don’t miss for a second how Nahoya’s tongue darts across his lower lip, his shoulders pointed in your direction, his mere silhouette striking unbidden anxiety into your chest - he doesn’t budge, fingers delicately trying to pop a button on your shorts. 

“Nahoya!” 

“What’re you yelling for?” His nonchalance, underlined by his level-headeness pushes you into the realm of doubt for a moment. The muscles in your thighs tense up as he tries to smooth his hands along them, abating your worry for as long as he doesn’t make any further moves. “Okay, okay. So what, you showed me a little bit of what your mouth can do - but I did all the work, didn’t I?” 

“No. Nahoya, you’re being really -” The words wither and collapse on your tongue as Nahoya brazenly tweaks your nipple, stunning you to silence. 

“Really what? Really what?” He tugs on the nodule of flesh and you crumple and whimper, trying to fish his hand from between your thighs where he’s made quick work of your clothes.

“I just don’t want you to make this mistake again, you see?” He makes you look at him; all silver toothed and poison fanged, making your skin bump up and shiver. “Next time, you ought to just skip the talking.” Soft ruffling of fabric, cool hands running along balmy skin. “Suck first. It’s hard as hell to be mad at you after.” 

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀don’t be shy !⠀send this user a message!⠀૮ • ﻌ -  ა⠀⠀⠀⠀

[acourtofmenandthirst]

The Fox & The Hound

Eris x Reader, based off a request! I combined this with an idea @azsazz came up with a long time ago, so this was the perfect combination! Featuring baby Lucien, he's only about 1-2 years old (I have no idea how old kids are when they're walking/talking, etc. so just go with it lol)

Warnings: Beron being an asshole, rabbit stew

Word Count: 2.6K

Eris crossed over the stony bridge, officially leaving the grounds of the estate for the dense forest before him. Lucien watched as the Forest House grew smaller and smaller, the farther Eris carried him into the woods. Eris patted his back, cradling the babe close to his chest. With his chubby cheek pressed to Eris’s shoulder, he garbled a few words of nonsense, grabbing at the brown piping on his eldest brother’s jacket. 

Carefully stepping over the piles of leaves and loose rocks, Eris’s hand rubbed over Lucien’s back, keeping him calm as they escaped the loud household. Eris was quick to pick up on the telltale signs of his father’s anger, the yelling between his parents ensuring things would turn ugly fast. He took Lucien from his room, where he was surely able to hear the shouting echoing off the stone walls, and made haste for the foggy woods. 

Eris had spent the past many decades of his life taking his brothers out of the house in moments such as these, shielding them from the abuse he wished someone would have protected him from. Many years were spent in the river beside him, teaching each of his brothers how to fish, showing them how to hunt, set traps, and wield their fire. Lucien, the youngest of the unruly boys, seemed to invoke a special kind of anger in their father, something Eris wasn’t sure Beron even knew the root cause of - it was what Eris prayed to the Mother above about each night: that his father didn’t truly know. 

He propped his brother at his side, hooking his arm around the babe tightly, turning him forwards to see the expanse of the forest in front of them. Lucien blabbered on, something about the colors on the trees, red and lellow - Eris didn’t try to hide his smile. But he continued on, pointing things out to Lucien as he expertly followed the trail between the trees. It was a path Eris carved himself: dry grass trampled beneath his horses hoofs, flattened under Eris’s own boots; he walked that path a million times to your little cabin on the outskirts of town. 

Without any warning at all, the older male swooped toward the ground and plucked a blooming flower from the earth. Lucien exploded with laughter, tiny fists grabbing at Eris’s coat, legs kicking at his sides. The babe’s bright eyes shut as his cheeks reddened, nothing but pure joy at his brother’s antics. Eris tickled Lucien under his arms, in which he knew he barely actually touched him through his many layers and thick corduroy jacket; but he squealed nonetheless, perhaps just happy to be spending time with his older brother.

“This,” Eris began, once Lucien had calmed. “Is a Celosia.” Lucien’s eyes widened, mouth dropped open in awe. Eris twirled the spiky red flower between his fingers, showing his brother the new object. He caught the drool forming on Lucien’s plump bottom lip before it fell to his coat, wiping his knuckle against the babe’s lip before tickling his nose with the tip of the flower. He handed it to Lucien, whose smile widened as he grabbed the plant with both hands. “Gross,” the older male muttered, wiping the baby drool off on the side of his pants. 

As he approached the small clearing near the river, Eris caught sight of a hole buried deep under a tree root. He inspected the area, catching sight of a pair of glowing eyes. Lucien’s attention shifted to the approaching fox, crawling cautiously out of the dark cavern. Eris stood still at the edge of the nest, watching as one approached, followed by another, and another. They walked around Eris’s feet, swirling between his legs like how the mist curled around the mountains. 

Lucien hurled himself forward, arms outstretched towards the fuzzy foxes. Eris caught the babe quickly, leaning over to set Lucien on his wobbly feet. He managed to hold himself upright, but only until one of the foxes lunged toward him, standing on its hind legs to sniff his curly red hair. Lucien fell on his bum, nothing but laughter and smiles as his hands came up to pet the animal. 

Eris smiled, settling down on a large rock beside the den. He ran a hand through his own hair, loose against his forehead, and glanced up at the sun. It was nearing sunset, leaving the sky streaked with orange and red, kissing the tops of the darkening trees. He turned his attention to the ground when something pulled on the hem of his pants - expecting Lucien, he turned his head with a small smirk, prepared to meet his excited brother. With a quirk of his brow, his lips pressed into a firm line, watching as the dark brown paws clawed gently at his leg. 

The fox peered up at him with a tilted head, spiked ears propped up in curiosity. Eris mirrored the animal, turning his own head as he tried to shoo away the small kit. Those trousers cost more than he cared to admit. With a shake of his leg, the fox ran around his other ankle, waiting for Eris to settle back before crawling over his boots again. 

Lucien giggled in front of him, waving his hands around as the other foxes jumped around him. The older male huffed, pushing himself to his feet, grabbing Lucien and hoisting him away from the rowdy animals. “We gotta get going,” Eris said to him, straightening out his little jacket. “It’s getting late.” 

Lucien’s eyes widened, staring up at his brother in disbelief. As Eris took a step forward, away from the skulk, Lucien started screaming, yelling out in irritation. Eris shushed the babe, patting his back as he continued on down the path, but Lucien was not to be calmed. He twisted and turned in Eris’s arms, reaching out for the one fox following them. 

Eris pressed forward, taking longer steps, hoping to lose the kit - but to no avail. The farther the fox followed, though, the softer Lucien’s screams were, and no longer was he squirming in Eris’s grip. “Come, come,” Lucien called, reaching over Eris’s shoulder out toward the animal. 

The tall male stopped in his tracks, holding his leg out to try to stop the fox. It simply walked around him, plopping down on the soft earth, waiting for Eris to continue. Lucien twisted, calling to the kit, who was seemingly only waiting for Eris’s next move. 

“My dogs will eat that thing,” Eris muttered, trying to wrangle Lucien in his arms. 

But with no sign of stopping - Lucien or the fox - Eris huffed. “Fine,” he sighed, mostly to himself. “Let’s all go then.” He began trudging down the path again, letting Lucien fawn over the animal that trailed closely behind. 

The minute they approached your cabin, though, Lucien smiled, turning his attention to the tiny front door. You’d stuck more flowers into the pots beside the landing, Eris noticed the dianthus, pointing it out to Lucien, too, who seemed fond of the purple petals. With nothing more than two knocks, Eris let himself in, ducking his head to step inside.

You met the males in the living room, as you wiped the flour from your hands, greeting the both of them with a smile. While Eris dropping by in the evening came as no shock to you, the extra visitors were a pleasant surprise. Lucien made grabby hands for you, leaning far away from his brother. You plucked him from Eris’s grip, happy to see the babe, despite the pull at your heart as you cradled him to your chest in a hug. Eris frequently visited you, but you knew he only brought Lucien when things turned sour at home. 

Lucien wrapped his arm around your neck, grabbing a fistfull of your hair as he planted a slobbery kiss to your cheek. “Hello, Lu Lu,” you crooned, cradling his head in your hand. You twirled his red curls, much like his older brother’s, and propped him up on your hip.

Eris rolled his eyes, in jealousy no doubt, placing his first finger under your jaw and turning your chin away from Lucien, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. The babe in your arms was already distracted by something beside him; you followed his line of sight to the open doorway. “Brought a new friend?” You asked, eyeing the small fox sitting in the open doorway. 

As Eris moved to shut the door, the kit jumped through, landing on the hard oak floor. You cocked a brow at the male, who shrugged in response and loosed a sigh. Don’t ask. 

You made your way to the kitchen with Lucien held sturdy on your hip, leaving Eris and his pet in the living room. Lucien giggled, sticking his hands in the pile of flour on the counter. He slapped his hands together, shrieking as it made a cloud in the air. You placed the small ball of dough in the cast iron baking dish, helping Lucien to sprinkle some of the powder atop the bread. “Good job,” you hummed, trying to wipe off his hands with the apron hanging off your waist. 

Lucien mumbled some incoherent words, to which you adamantly agreed, nodding along with his ramblings. You made sure the babe was held on your opposite side as you moved to the oven, placing the dish in with your other hand. You kept him as far away from the oven as you could, but he reached out for it. You weren’t sure if it was the innate fire simmering in his veins that made him grab for it, or if it reminded him of Eris, the male who ran hotter than that oven at most times. You liked to think it was the latter.

Eris was simply drained after caring for the babe all afternoon. He sat slouched in your small dining room chair, legs spread out into the walkway, shoulders shrugged and arms sprawled out on either of the arms. The fox was curled up, laying over the bridge of his boot, tail curled up into its chest. You slowly made your way to the table he sat beside, bringing him the mug of tea you’d been sipping on. 

You plopped Lucien on the rug, the babe stumbling over to where Eris and the fox were so well relaxed. The fox yipped when Lucien made to pet its fur, shiny crimson coat so captivating in the faelight. “You don’t want any babes of your own, my beloved?” You stood across from him, eyeing his exhausted state of being. 

He heaved an exasperated sigh. “Our children would be much better behaved.” He stared into space, eyes unfocused, but in Lucien’s direction, where he was crawling around on the floor, behind the fox, mimicking his sneaky walk. 

You tut at him, running your hand over the side of his head and through his hair, mucking up his wild hair. You dropped down in his lap, smiling to yourself as his arms wound around your waist and he nuzzled his chin in the crook of your neck. Your hands fell to his, tracing the warm skin over his knuckles. He hummed against you, relishing in your sweet smell - the flowery scent of your hair and aroma of freshly fallen rain that laced your skin. 

“Leaf?” Lucien questioned, drawing both of you out of your daze. His small hand ran over the fox’s tail as his golden eyes washed over the red fur.

“That’s a fox, Lucien.” Eris was so tired.

“Leaf,” he said again, more desperate, pointing at the fox.

“He’s naming him, Eris,” you whispered, dropping your head back against his, your temple resting against the top of his head. 

“Fuck no, we’re not naming him Leaf.”

“Fuck,” Lucien repeated, stumbling over the word. You smacked the back of Eris’s hand, but the male only laughed, burying his face into your neck. 

The two brothers stayed for supper, feasting on the tender rabbit stew you prepared. You and Eris took turns ripping up small pieces of bread and meat for Lucien, who sat happily propped up on Eris’s lap. You gazed longingly at the male beside you, elbow propped up on the table and head held in your palm. He shed his jacket long ago, donning just his white buttoned shirt with the collar half undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

Lucien’s sweater had hand embroidered leaves on it, large orange maple leaves - the telltale sign of Autumn. You’d fretted immensely as he grabbed a fistfull of carrots from the stew and failed to actually get it in his mouth, dropping it perfectly onto that cream colored wool. The chunks of meat that had fallen from the table were happily lapped up by the small fox, who sat perched on its hind legs. 

When you’d moved to the sofa after dinner, Lucien was quick to fall asleep. Laid perfectly on the warm expanse of Eris’s chest, the babe’s arms and legs were sprawled over his older brother. You ran your fingers over Lucien’s back, lulling him into a deep slumber. His lips were parted ever so slightly as you listened to his steady breathing, the only other sound accompanying the small fire in the hearth across the room. 

Eris watched your fingers trace patterns over his brother’s back, in the same manner you did on him when he fell asleep in your arms himself. It surely did the trick on him, why wouldn’t it work on his brother? He couldn’t help that envious feeling, the anxiety he felt with sharing the one good thing he’d found for himself. Maybe it was that possessive part of him that made him want to keep you tucked away on the outskirts of the small town, away from his real life, his home, his family. That in some irrational corner of his mind, he’d lose you should he get too close, should he share too much of his life with you. He felt guilty enough bringing Lucien there, to your home, in escape from his father.

He was basically falling asleep himself, though, with you tucked up close to him, the warmth of your touch heavy at his side. His forehead rested against yours, your arm pressed into the couch yet still curled around his bicep. His hand fell to your knee, thumb brushing over your leg through your thin dress. He was content to lay there, for all of you to fall asleep on your soft sofa. But his mother would be expecting him to return Lucien soon, the routine of him taking his brother from the house becoming much too normal. 

“I’ll have to get this little one to bed,” Eris whispered, voice barely audible. 

You smiled, twirling one of Lucien’s curls between your fingers. You loved seeing Eris care for his brother, the soft side of him you barely bore witness to. With a slow turn, you cupped his cheek in your palm and pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He was quick to blush, scarred face tinged with pink. But he brushed it off, moving to stand before you, keeping Lucien held tightly to his chest. “I’ll be back later tonight,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

As Eris moved, the fox - once tucked into a ball, sleeping beside him - shot to attention, staring at him from the couch. With a roll of his eyes, he sighed, holding out his hand for the fox to hop into his palm. It crawled its way up his forearm, latching onto the light fabric. “Come on, Leaf, let's go home.”

[evesaintyves]

hi y'all i finished this lil multichapter fic

perimeter walks

15k | M | Lupin/Tonks | canon compliant | complete | a 9-chapter vignette series, set during Deathly Hallows, about the Lupin family's last days in hiding at Lupin's cottage before the end of the war | cw for character death, sex, violence, childbirth |image by me

excerpt under the cut

Remus forgot his gloves, so by the time he was done reweaving the spiderweb of wards between the skeleton-hands of the trees and the slouching chain-link fence and the spongy rotted-out eaves of the cottage, the joints of his wand hand were so stiff he struggled with the buttons on his old corduroy coat when he got back in the house. "C'mere," Dora said, better today and sprawled over half the sofa with a bowl of chicken stew balanced on her belly. She had a long red scratch down her forearm, weeping the tiniest droplet of blood at its end. She was always scratched or bruised somewhere; it didn't even worry him anymore. He went to her with half his buttons undone and she undid the rest with a smirky curve on her lips. A little dotted line of stew drips were drying down the front of her shirt. The way he loved her in that moment was like sinking into a hot bath: capillaries dilating, his heartbeat slowing to a walk, the muscles in his neck and stomach—always knotted tight with worry these days—starting to unclench themselves. He bent at the waist to press his nose into the clean green-apple scent of her hair. It was still the pale baby-pink she'd turned it days ago, when they'd reassembled the chipped and rickety old crib Arthur had brought over, and debated what colour to paint it. She had oddly forceful opinions about colours: she could discern between shades that looked identical to him, and could put a name to every subtly-different hue of pink: dusty-rose, cerise, taffy . "The baby likes my chicken stew, does it?" Remus murmured to her scalp. He'd almost said he - Molly was certain it was going to be a boy, and the idea had stuck in Remus's mind for reasons he couldn't quite articulate. Tonks tilted her head back and softly nipped the tip of his nose with her teeth. "Well, it hasn't tried to send it back yet." "Mm. You've got a scratch on your arm." She frowned and twisted her wrist around to look. "Huh." "You don't know how you got it?" She rolled her eyes. "Pfft. I never know." She handed Remus her half-empty bowl and he took it to the kitchen and scraped it into the sink. 

if you enjoy this story please check out @broomsticks' piece, Stay, a Remadora drabble which I consider a companion to this work ❤️