#the hearth and home (molly)

[apollosrambling]

Dumb Love

Weasley Twins x Male/Masc reader 1183 words

The dorm room is quiet aside from the harsh patter of rain on the windows. You’re propped up in your own bed, reading from a DADA textbook to prepare for an upcoming paper. Across the room from you, the Weasley twins are sitting on Fred’s bed, heads together as they study their newest creation. The rest of the dorm is empty, the two others in the library working on a project. It’s a cold, rainy October evening, filling the school with a melancholy whisper.

You look out the window as a large crack of thunder fills the room. The Durmstrang boat is rocking wildly in the lake, leaving you to wonder if the students are taking refuge in the great hall, or if perhaps the ship is enchanted to avoid the feeling on the inside. You quickly realize you’ve been staring out of the window for at least five minutes, and snap back to your book. A movement catches your eye, and you look up to see the twins staring at you.

“What?” You ask, closing your book and stretching. You’d been sitting for what felt like hours.

“Nothing.” They say in tandemonium, which skyrockets your suspicions.

“What?” This time when you say it, you sound significantly less curious and impossibly more weary.

They both shrug, going back to working on their dangerous candies.

Being their best friend of 5  years, you knew better than to drop your suspicion, but you were also tired of staring at your book while pretending to understand the words. Deciding instead to watch the boys, you shove the textbook into your bag. While you have been their best friend, it was easy to tell when your feelings begin to grow.

It started with little signs. A twisting in your stomach when one laughed, a flutter across your skin when another would take your bag to taunt you. The teasing turned from infuriating to blush-inducing. 

It hit you like a truck, though, one holiday evening at the Burrow when you’d decided to stay with them rather than travel further to stay at home. It was late, a fire crackling in the hearth while you say curled between them. They had thought you asleep, dozing like a cat in the coziness of the cottage. 

“Try not to jostle him,” George had whispered, a hand stroking your hair while the other attempted to move to put long-drained cocoa mugs away. 

The way his fingertips felt on your forehead had solidified your feelings, sending you tumbling down a cliff of dumb puppy love. 

“Y/n.” Fred is standing now, moving towards your bed with a mischievous look. “Yeah?” You quirk an eyebrow and lean against one of the posts of your bed, swinging your legs over the edge. 

“Fancy an outing?”

Truthfully, you don’t. It’s cozy in your dorm. The warm heat of the fire as your pet naps in front of it, the familiar smell of sweets and spices. When it comes to the twins, though, you’re weak. 

“Sure.” Without much hesitation you pull on your cloak, not wanting your signature Molly Weasley sweater to be ruined if this outing includes the raging storm outside. 

The twins lead you out of the dorm and towards the towers of the castle. Watching the rain through the windows as you pass, tugging your cloak a little tighter as a shiver runs down your back. 

“Cold?” George sidles up, towering over you at an outrageous height. You huff, moving away to hide your blush. 

“No,” You mumble, but the subtle shaking in your hands gives you away. George takes them in his, intertwining your fingers as you walk. 

It’s hard to not let it go to your head. Sometimes you think their whispers and soft glances are for you. That it could work out. But that’d be outrageous, and they’ve always been tactile. It’s far more likely they just enjoy physical touch with all of their friends. 

After what feels like forever, you’re standing atop the astronomy tower with a charm keeping the pelting rain from your heads. Fred is laying out a blanket -where he conjured it from, you don’t know- when George finally lets go of your hand to set you down on it. The three of you huddle together, watching the gray sky get darker as first years sprint across the lawn in an attempt to stay dry. Mostly unsuccessful.

“Why are we here?” You lean back, resting on your palms and looking up at the two redheads. 

“The ball is coming up.” Ah, yeah. Perhaps they’re about to ask who you’re going to ask. Tell you about the girls they’ve been admiring. 

“Mh, yeah. It is. Who are you eyeing?” You really don’t want to know, but their happiness is important. 

“Well, I reckon I’ll pick up the courage to ask here soon.” Fred is smiling, as if he’s in on a secret you aren’t. He probably is. 

You watch George roll his eyes. “No, you won’t. You’ll just mope around Gryffindor tower and lament about dying alone.”  You cover your mouth to hide the laughter as Fred pulls an offended face. 

“Bugger off, I’ll do it.” He turns to you, shoving at his twin across you. “Who are you asking?” 

“I hadn’t thought about it,” You shrug, too embarrassed to admit you’d pictured yourself between them, dress robes tangled as you dance and exchange kisses. 

“Not interested in anyone, then?” They loom over as if your answer is the most important thing on earth. 

“No.” The burning red that seeps from your cheeks to your ears and back of your neck gives you away. 

“No one would be interested in going with me,” You admit. It hurts but you know you’re right.  

“Bullshit!” George grabs your shoulder, leaning impossibly close. 

“I bet loads of people are hoping you’ll ask them.” 

“Oh yeah, I can think of at least two,”  Fred chimes in, looking just as offended. 

“Two? Who?” Your heart pounds as George stares down at you. 

Do they know two other guys interested in men? Where? You can only think of one, and he’s definitely not interested. 

George is looking annoyed, grabbing your chin with more force than is maybe necessary. It makes you swallow. 

“You,” he growls out, tight grip showing no sign of loosening, “are the most infuriating, dense boy I have ever met.” 

“Thanks?”

Before the word even fully leaves your lips he’s crashing down on you. Weight heavy, free hand slipping through your hair in that obsessive way he likes to touch it. His lips are relentless, violent against yours and brimming with emotion. 

He pulls away, and before you can breathe Fred is taking his place. With a spinning mind and tingling lips you get lost in the sensation of kissing the two boys you’ve been in love with for years, heart pounding. 

When you’re finally given a chance to breathe your cheeks hurt from grinning. 

“So, you two want to go to the dance with me?” 

You’re tackled with more kisses, the rain a comforting soundtrack to your new love story.

[gatheringbones]

[“All over the world, it is routine for anti-prostitution policing to involve evicting sex workers, prosecuting them, and deporting them. Only in the Nordic countries, however, is this imagined as a feminist achievement.

For Sweden particularly, cleansing the nation of undesirables as a form of social improvement has long been part of national identity. In the early twentieth century, the political theory of folkhemmet (‘the people’s home’) was established to conceptualize the ideal Swedish society and its benevolent welfare state. The basis for this idea is that, like a small family household, Swedish citizens contribute and in turn are benignly looked after by the state, which acts as a ‘good parent’, steering its offspring away from misbehaviour and corruption. Unsurprisingly, the role of the prostitute in folkhemmet is an antagonistic one. Who but a prostitute could more archetypally threaten the family hearth?

Other groups, too, are seen as similarly disruptive to Swedish familial normativity: people who use drugs, people with HIV, transgender people. How this ‘national family’ has historically responded to these groups paints a picture of Swedish control. In the name of folkhemmet’s eugenicist commitment to ‘social hygiene’, 21,000 people were forcibly sterilised before 1975. Ninety per cent of those sterilised were women who were deemed to be ‘inferior, anti-social, dangerously hypersexual … promiscuous or feebleminded’. During the 1990s, the Swedish state incarcerated people living with HIV without trial, some of them for years – ninety per cent were sex workers and drug users.This legacy lives on in Swedish governance. In 2009, a Left Party politician noted that these punitive responses to HIV played a part in the social construction of ‘the nice clean Sweden’. In order to legally reassign their gender, trans people were subject to compulsory sterilisation until 2013. Even the presence of drugs in the body is criminalised. This is a far harsher anti-drug law than any other European country has, which goes some way towards explaining Sweden’s devastating number of drug deaths – the second-worst in Europe.

Ultimately, only Sweden’s ‘ideal’, normative citizens – healthy, productive people of Nordic stock – are those who can be deemed responsible and rational, looking after themselves in a way that is independent but in accord with family rules.”]

molly smith, juno mac, from revolting prostitutes: the fight for sex workers’ rights, 2018

[dent-de-leon]

silly idea for the day: AU where the mighty nein are all mortal incarnations of gods like the Prime Deities in Downfall. For each of their domains:

Tealeaf/Lucien: The two are twin souls, halves of a whole—Dreams and Nightmares. Molly is love, playful trickery, passion. A safe place to rest. New beginnings. And the Nonagon is hunger, manipulation, manifestation of sheer will. The shadow that haunts you every night.

Jester: Unbridled chaos, delighting in mischief, finding joy and sharing laughter. “A trick that shows the truth.”

Caleb: Gnawing loss and grief. Guilt. The healing catharsis of transformation. A hand outstretched, always offering you a second chance. Redemption. Possibility.

Fjord: The vast unknown lurking in the deepest part of the ocean, navigators and sailors, souls lost at sea.

Beau: Keeper of secrets and forgotten mysteries. Exposing corruption, chronicling knowledge. Intuition. Rebellion.

Yasha: The fallen angel who regained her wings. Storms, sorrow. Breaking chains. Finding peace. A protector.

Veth: Ever the inventor and tinkerer—ingenuity, alchemy, cunning. Family, bonds, wanderlust.

Caduceus: The endless cycle of growth and decay. Honoring the dead and funeral rites. Agriculture. Keeping vigil over hearth and home, spirits long gone and forgotten.

[writingcold]

Welcome to Chapter 15.  I promise, after a few hard chapters, this one is a little bit easier to digest.  

If you’ve just joined us, here is the Master List to catch up

As always, thank you to @lvnterninthenight, @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake for your support, assistance, and friendship while this story panned out!

This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine.  Please do not take it for your own personal use.  I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story.  But it is mine.

Content warning:  It’s 18+, there’s adult situations.  There is no violence in this chapter.  So there’s that.

Word count: approx. 4100

Chapter Fifteen: Energy, Marriage, First Disagreement - Susannah POV

     The world had been set to right once more.  Jacob was still a hard ass, but at least he was a quieter, more level-headed hard ass.  Josh was hitting a stride now that Cora was in position at the bank, as well as aiding in the store, relieving him of some duties in both locations.  Molly and Danny were hiding away more.  Susannah was sure they would run away at any moment, despite the seemingly calm waters the business was presenting at the time.

     Sam’s arm lay heavy across her torso, his rhythmic breathing fluttering her hair.  She thought perhaps in the weeks after Cora had returned that Sam would settle back to being himself.  However, the weight of what had happened with the bank, and how he had to step up for his brothers had changed him.  He seemed distracted; more distant than ever before.  Like he was trying to put back together a puzzle so complex only he understood how it functioned.  He passed it off as his work on the Moon progressed into some fairly new territory for him, turning her into the terror he knew she could be.  

     Susannah could not help but feel her lover’s agitation as a new wound for her to pick at.  She had always been concerned that she was never enough for Samuel intellectually.  She knew he grew bored of her rambling dreams of hearth and home and what it would mean for them to share a real life together.  She saw how he started to shy away from making his assurances to her that all of what they had to do- the Lantern, the hiding of their true relationship, the way they had to keep separate - was only for the now and not always.  She could not remember the last time he promised a day away, just to pretend to be a couple in love where no one knew them.  Where no one knew who she was, what she was, what she did to pay her bills.

     Her heart stumbled at the idea.  Perhaps Sam was distancing himself to soften the blow that he no longer wished the same wishes as he once had with her.  She sat up and started to slide from the bed when his hand caught her arm.

     “Don’t go,”  he said, voice muffled and heavy with sleep.

     She turned her face away, fighting the emotions that threatened.  “Didn’t know you were awake.”

     “I don’t want to be,”  he sighed, curling up to her as she settled back down beside him.  “Come love on me instead.”

     He tugged her to move up on top of him, kissing her passionately.  Susannah felt the warmth, the love of him in the moment.  Her body unfolded over him, accepting him just as always.  She pushed away the hazy doubt, holding it at a distance to ruminate at another time.  This was her man who needed her.  Her man loved her.  It could be enough to live through another day.

     They moved together slowly.  His long fingers pressed into all her spots that made her brain pause and relish him the most.  His teeth scraped against her earlobe.  She reached up, allowing her breasts to be the landing for his chin as he sat up into her, pushing himself into her to fill her cunt so perfectly.  Her head fell back; her mouth emitting a low, long breath as rocked his cock into her, striking that spot that he knew would unravel her and unbind her stitched up bits and bites that toiled within her thoughts to unleash her to a better time.  Looking into the soft gaze of his eyes, she felt her heart spill open, giving him all she had, all she could ever have, just for her Samuel.

     Fragile gasps and tender moans filled her ears.  Susannah needed the minutes together to stretch, to encompass her, but it was over too quickly.  The softness was replaced with a stillness that mirrored the achy void that appeared within her chest.  She watched with hidden dismay as Sam bustled around, dressing and saying goodbye before she was able to lift her head once more.

     The minutes seemed to be speeding at her as she slogged through getting ready for her day.  She had hoped that Molly would stop in, but by early afternoon, it seemed that even her closest friend had forgotten her.  Dressing, she headed toward the pharmacy.  She had never noticed the dismal way people looked upon her.  She pulled the fabric of her light coat closer to her body as a chill ran up her neck.

     A sign in the window caught her eye.  A woman sat slumped in a chair with no energy.  A simple sniff later and she was running with a smile through her house chores.  The little note said to ask the pharmacist about the great new stimulant to “keep the world moving!”  She stepped inside to get laudanum,  but left with a vial of heroin.

Chapter Fifteen: Pt 2, Molly POV

     She felt like her insides were going to turn to mush and escape out the window.  Danny laughed beside her as she fiddled with the simple gold band that had suddenly taken residence on her left hand.  The ring felt like it weighed a ton.  She would swear that it held a heat about as well.  Like it was trying to burn into her flesh to keep it from sliding away.  Be it madness or true love, they were hitched and absolutely giddy about it.  

     Molly did not like the notion of explaining it all to everyone, all at once.  She worried about Susannah.  Her friend was leaning into her fragility once more.  This was news that she may not be able to digest in the group setting.  Danny proposed while they were in Norway, sitting at the cafe over sandwiches.  The justice of the peace was available and it just happened.  Impulsive, crazy, and perfect.  No one knew what Danny may have been planning.  Not even Sam.  Of course, it still meant all the obstacles were still in place.  Josh would never allow their marriage to smudge the all too important reputation in the public eye.  However, Molly did not much care.  She was not like Susannah, pining away for a time that most likely would not happen.  When they could be together without judgment for the positions they kept was not going to be anytime soon, so why bother the brain about it.  Molly wanted only to enjoy what they had in the ‘now’ and worry about such as time as being part of accepted society when it actually happened.

     They arrived back in Kingsford just as the evening fell.  They spoke not a word of logistics.  There was no way she would spend the night in the Kiszka household.  Josh would rather dip Danny in acid than to have that happen and explain to the neighbors that it was all right, they were a proper married couple after all.  

     Dressed for the Lantern, they descended through the staff entrance to find everyone at the family perch.  As it was Saturday, Cora was even with the group.  Her presence had seemed to steady the ship that seemed to be run aground in the worst possible manner ever.  Molly wondered if the woman provided a reminder of the direction that any of them once had - to finish a job that none of them actually wanted, with the exception of Joshua.  Even that notion was thin as Josh seemed his most happy when things were just starting out with the shops and dancehall were just getting established.  

     “Where the fuck have you two been?”  Sam barked with a grin as they sauntered up to the table.

     Instead of any announcement, Molly simply held her left hand up to flash the band.  Cora laughed warmly as Jacob and Sam clamored over to the groom to congratulate him.  Josh flagged the bartender calling out for champagne and cigars.  Her eyes drifted to Susannah and found a teary, surprised friend that seemed glued to her seat.  Cora was quick to rise to her feet upon noticing the struggle and wrapped her in a hug that was reassuring.  

     “Come on, honey mama,”  she said to Susannah with the biggest smile she could muster.  “Lay your worst on me.”

     The woman’s dark eyes curved and prickled with a happiness that suddenly filled the rest of her body.  Susannah stood and wrapped her arms around her, holding so tight she was sure there would be bruises on her arms and shoulders.  The twinkling laugh that she let out reinforced everything that Molly was feeling from the first moments of the morning when Danny offhandedly said that should get married.

     “Love you, baby,”  Molly whispered against her friend’s ear.

     “Alright, come on, let’s get this going!”  Joshua announced, handing out the champagne.

     Molly reached across, taking Danny’s cigar and puffed it a few times with a huge belly laugh.  The night became a blur of dancing and drinks and celebration.   Her husband beamed the entire night.  She could not believe that such a simple thing, a simply worded commitment could have such an effect on both of them - all of them.  She just hoped that perhaps they were finally heading back to black with the plan of leaving the town behind once the job was done.

     It was close to three in the morning and everyone but Susannah was dragging.  She was still twirling on the dancefloor with Sam as the others were slinking away to put an end to the night.  Cora and Jacob were first to leave with another round of love and kindness.  Josh left at two.  Sam had been trying to get her to leave ever since, but it was like watching her being pulled by a string and pushed by an engine.  Molly felt a ping in her heart that she knew Susannah was not right.  She was being driven by something beyond herself.  

     “Hey, you ready?  I feel like we could disappear for a few days,”  he whispered in her ear.

    Molly watched as Susannah was toasting them once more.  Her heart strained against the concern she suddenly felt.  Danny was wrapping his long arms around her, lifting her against him to practically drag her away.  Susannah and Sam were laughing and waving happily.  Molly tried to ham it up, but at last glimpse, she could not help the stab of doubt that her friend had left within her thoughts.

Chapter Fifteen: Pt. 3, Cora POV

     The office that held all special accounts was about ten times the size of the Tiger’s closet breadth of space.  Cora had settled herself in amongst the ledgers and set to work immediately, familiarizing herself with Joshua’s method of record keeping, taking special care to note the subtleties between the legitimate businesses and the not so legitimate ones.  She quickly worked to understand the double language as well as coding to best serve the overall health of the Kiszka/Wagner affairs.

     The ledger before her was simply marked ‘Jacob’.  She was tapping on the edge of the desk in debate.  Joshua insisted everything in the room was a part of the variety of businesses they held.  She certainly did not want to be nosing around in Jacob’s personal accounts.  She would not really know what the ledger was for until she at least looked inside.

     After one last hesitation, she flipped the cover open to find that it was a register of rents for the Shipwright's Holdings Company.  Her brow pinched.  She knew that company - they were the landowner of her home on Park street.   Each page of the book was a different property, all carefully recorded with address, property values, the weekly/monthly rent values, renter information and due dates.  The properties were located all over Kingsford, and included residences, businesses, and farmland.  As she looked closer, the boundaries did not end within the town, but spanned all over Dickinson, Menominee, and Iron counties, with a few properties dotted all the way through the UP to the furthest reaches of the eastern and western borders.  The register was well organized by county, followed by type of property.  The business itself was impressive, bringing in nearly double what the general store and mercantile shops brought in revenues combined.  

      Thumbing her way through the Dickinson County residences, she found the house on Park.  He had purchased it the year before.  She traced the names on the leases until it stopped with her own name, but there were no entries of any of her rent installments.  A hard noise escaped her as she realized that although the amount of rent that she was paying was the same as each of the prior residents, none of the money that she had paid in had been recorded.

     Cora paged through the rest of the ledger, but returned to her page - her entry.  She finally set the book to the side, open and waiting as she moved on to Joshua’s business markets and holdings.  In the few weeks since her return to Kingsford, she had been surprised to find that Joshua had replaced her in the Tiger.  To find that he wanted her in the bank, with the possibility of more management duties in the shops had her dazed.  He bumped her salary up to twenty five dollars a week.  It was so much that she was beginning to tuck dollars away for Matthew to attend college, as well as a sum to send to Junie to help.  

     Jacob and Danny had left on a run that morning, which meant that she was going to have to stew on the found information for at least four days.  She was aware that she would have had to go through a male counterpart of some kind in order to find a residence in town - no matter if it was Jacob or not.  More than likely, it would have had to have been a representative of the bank that she would have counted on to secure her just the ability to look at rentals.  The fact that Jacob helped was not what was troublesome.  It was the fact that it was his personal company that owned the home and it was obvious that he was not recording her rental payments at all.  Her mind kept returning to the open book even though she continued to work on organizing the books according to what she needed in the office bookcases.

     “How about some lunch with me, lovely?”  Joshua asked as he stopped in her doorway.

     She looked up at him, her eyes needing a moment to refocus.  “Oh…”

     “All well?”  he asked, moving towards the desk, eyes roaming across what she was working on, falling into the open rental ledger.  He nodded with a soft tug on the corner of his mouth.  “Yeah, Jake’s been at that since day one that we’ve been here.  He has an eye for property and good renters.  He acts like he doesn’t have a head for business, but truthfully, he’s a natural.”

     He smiled wide and held out his arm for her to take.  “Come on, Cora.  Come have lunch.”

     It surprised her to see Joshua in the diner versus The Boudreau.  He seemed younger sitting in the booth, eyes squarely on her, instead of knowing that being seen was more important by his business counterparts.  To hear him actually laugh, not the polite laugh, but his belly laugh over something she had said about Jacob had nearly startled her.  In the end, however, she felt more of an equal with Joshua than she had ever felt before.

      The week stretched on.  Cora remained in her routine of work and getting home to hear about the boys in their day.  Matthew had excelled beyond the teacher’s ability and spent more time aiding the older students than focusing on his own studies.  Jon was always a bit bashful, but Georgie would talk up how Jon, not Matthew, was really the smartest in that school.  Rosemary was busy at the laundry; mending and tailoring had become her niche.  

     Thursday afternoon brought her to the last few of the Lantern registers.  The office no longer looked like a frantic library that had no bookcases.  Josh strolled into her office around noon each day in what seemed to be a new routine for him to pick her up for lunch.  They were just returning to the bank when he decided to stop in at the shops.

     “I have a few new duties for you,”  he explained, walking her back to the office.

     Her eye had caught Renee who quietly smiled and waved to her.  Joshua would have her begin to close up the register and shops on those days that required him to be at the bank or longer hours.  Her hands would go a long way in aiding the family.  He told her not to worry about wages on Saturdays, but the days of the week would be her time to finish out the shops.

     Jacob was walking towards them from the alley as they headed back towards the bank.  His eyes lit with a huge smile.

     “There you are,”  he said, holding his hand out to her.

     Her heart mirrored his smile as he tucked her into him, brushing his lips against her neck in a light kiss.  

     “Looks like a successful last run of the season,”  Josh remarked with a nod and a pat to his twin’s shoulder.  

     Jacob hummed in agreement.  “All trucks accounted for.  All are southbound and headed on their way.  We are done for the season.”

     “We’ll have to celebrate Sunday,”  Josh said warmly.  “Big supper and the picture show?”

     Jacob nodded as they walked towards the bank.  “Sound good, Finch?”

     Cora grinned at him and nodded.  Films were important.  The stories were important to Jacob, while the actual pieces and functions of the film were important to Joshua.  To be able to watch the differences between the two in the movie theater was something to treasure.  The debate they would have for the week after was tiresome at times, but interesting at how every kernel and niche had to be explored just to decide whether it was a good film or not, rotted her brain.  

     Walking into the bank, she tugged Jacob along just as he was about to let her go to her office alone.  “I have a question for you,”  she said, keeping her face neutral.

     He raised an eyebrow but followed anyway.  She closed the door behind them.  Jacob turned round on her, catching her and pressing her up against the closed door.  His mouth brushed against hers before pressing in against her.  The weight of him made her brain fuzz over as her body instantly welcomed his touch.  His hands pressed against her sides, sliding down her curves, ending at the swell of her bottom and his tongue deep in her mouth.  He set every fiber of her body on fire within two seconds of his return home. 

     He paused, her breath came in fast waves as she dropped her chin and leaned against his chest.  Her purpose returned as her thoughts cleared.  Her hand pressed against his shoulder as she slid away from him.  

     “You’ve made quick work of this in here,”  he said softly as he seemed to collect himself.

     “I’ve tried to.  It’s been a challenge.  I’ll be taking all of the necessary ledgers to the house soon,”  she remarked as she reached for the ledger marked ‘Jacob’.  “I came across this.”

     She set the ledger on the desk in front of him as he moved closer.  His dark eyes landed on it and did not move.  He humphed, and was about to dismiss it until he looked back at her.  Cora raised an eyebrow.

     “Imagine my surprise that I discovered you are my landlord, Jacob,”  she said, opening the cover and getting to her page.  

      “It started out as a side business,”  he shrugged.  “I mean, Josh has his market shares in so many more shops and organizations-”

     “But this is solely yours,”  she said, pointing at her name.

     “I’m not sure where you’re leading me, Finch.”

     “I’ve made three rent payments, none of which are recorded.”

     He shrugged with a shake of his head.  “Still not sure what you want me to say.”

     Cora felt the corners of her eyes pinch.  Her emotions wanted to flare, but she fought to keep in check.  “Were you just remiss in my payments to your company?  I can page to any of your other holdings and they are all recorded.”

     “Not sure why you are upset about that-”

     “There’s very little autonomy in this world for a woman, Jacob,”  she said quietly in order to try to keep the heat out of her words.  “Making those rent payments on my own is important to me.”

      His face scrunched up.  “I understand.  But why are you upset about my books?  Those weren’t even supposed to be in here.”

     “I’m upset because you are obviously meticulous when it comes to all of your other holdings.  Why is there nothing showing for my rent payments?  Why are there no entries in here?”

      “I feel like any answer I give you is going to be wrong in this scenario.”

      “Fine - where is the money I have paid into Shipwright Holdings?  Start there.”

      “I divert the money you pay in rent to a separate account.”

      “Why would you do that?”

      “Cora, I don’t want to -”

      “I need you to understand that having that house is my way in this world.  I pay for that.  I get that it’s a pittance when it comes to the rest of your properties, but it should be going back into the business like all your other holdings.  So, where are you diverting my rent?  I certainly do not mean to be living there rent-free.  I entered a contract to pay-”

      He held his hands up.  “I divert your rent into an account that I set up for us.  I match the amount each time you make rent.  I…  It’s just something for us to get our start on.  I am investing in us.  It’s not something to be upset about.”

     She gritted her teeth.  “It’s not square.”

     “Fine.”  His eyes grew hard as he straightened his back.  When he spoke, his voice was without hardness, but it was different from his normal rasp.  It was professional and measured and without passion.  “Then how about looking at it this way, Cora.  The moment your payment is made, it is my decision to do with those monies as I see fit.  I take that payment and invest it into my personal future.  I match those funds and add a bit more of my personal allowance, so that each month one hundred dollars is deposited so that I may make a life with the woman that happens to be sitting in front of me right now.  Does that satisfy you?”

     Cora knew she had been scolded.  However, she did not look away.  Did not cry and buckle under him.  Instead, she sat back in the chair and said nothing.

     The corner of his mouth tugged as he tilted his head to the side.  “I know independence is important to you, baby.  You are so strong that way.  I’m not taking anything away.  I just thought that perhaps to have something that is just us, for us, and could be spent any way we wanted.  If you want to spend it on a home, or babies, or hell, tuition, that would be our choice.”

     “Tuition?”  Her brows pinched over that nugget.

     “Cora, if you want to go to school, I’d be more than happy to follow you there.  Or if you want to use it to send your brothers, so be it,”  he said warmly.  He laughed as it was obvious that his brain had lurched ahead of him.  “You may want to decide because all I can see is a huge house packed with our children.”

     “That many, huh?”  she asked, unable to keep the ire in her belly stoked and burning.

     “More,”  he whispered as he reached for her.

Nice to have them back, right?   I've got Chapter 15 all polished up and ready to go, so be sure to look for it tomorrow afternoon - okay?

I do have a tag list - you can find it here, or just let me know in the comments.  Thanks!

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[fizzyginfizz]

Hi so Besides Ginny, do you have any other favorite Weasley?

I could write a love letter to every single Weasley. Not just a crappy little “I Heart You” Valentine– a full-on, Darcy-worthy, three-page letter in calligraphy with a wax seal fastening the back.

Even Percy. I also owe him an apology because I keep cutting his best lines in my WIP.

However, about fifteen minutes ago I fell into another subtle Molly-bashing fic. She’s on my mind this morning, so let me throw some love her way.

If you start to think about it, the Weasley kids are accomplished. Smart, funny, capable. Also, consider that none of them (save the twins, but that’s an entirely different subject) have the same interests, the same passions, the same temperament. That doesn’t happen in spite of parenting, it happens because of it. Despite the fanon idea that Molly Weasley is controlling, the fact that her children follow their passions, are brave enough to forge their way forward (and yet, still visit all the time) would seem to indicate that Molly Weasley allows her children the room to grow, discover and be themselves.

She does, though, have boundaries and they tend to revolve around safety. Not a woman who is freaking out about every scraped knee, though. She’s got perspective: here’s a woman who lost her two brothers in a war – her concept of loss is not theoretical, she knows it, she lives it – there are Gideon and Fabian shaped holes in her family, and if she pushes back on the idea of her teenagers being in a war, or doesn’t want them listening to Order meetings, that’s why.

The saddest thing (and most unappreciated) about motherhood is if you do it right, your kids are independent, strong, responsible and they don’t need you anymore. Good grief, the whole job is to make yourself redundant in the end. She’s done that. Her kids take for granted her way of providing safety: home, hearth, a good meal, a laugh, a shelter in a storm.

And that’s okay – it’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Except for Harry. Here comes this kid who needs Molly Weasley’s particular kind of love language so desperately- he recognizes it for love, he sees its value. At a time in her life when her kids are pulling away – as they are supposed to – in comes a kid who needs a Molly Weasley in his life. What her kids see as fussing or hovering, Harry sees as love.

Harry’s as much a gift to Molly as she is to him. Harry gives Molly an “I see you, I value you, what you do and how you do it is important.” He doesn’t even have to say it, he just thrives under her care, she can see. Of course she’s going to stuff him full of treacle tart, made especially because he likes it.

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

And maybe Molly + 46?

46: shimmer

Since they put Mama in the ground, everyone keeps telling him it’s not good to be alone. Trying to get him to stay home, where it’s loud and dark and everything smells just like her still even though she’s gone. He’s not alone, though. It’s just that, he’s learned, nobody else can see the colorful lady.

She’s wavery, sometimes, in the light, like looking at things underwater, and has one funny eye. She doesn’t ask him how he’s feeling, which he likes; he’s tired of everyone asking, tired of everyone looking at him like he’s littler than he is just because Mama took all his words with her into the dirt.

But she doesn’t ask about Mama, so he doesn’t ask about her eye.

He’s crouched in the creek, practicing his stone-skipping with his pants rolled up to his knees, when the light changes. It’s subtle, but he’s learned to recognize it—the world gets a little more vivid, like colors aren’t so grey. It feels very grey, these days. He looks up.

The colorful lady looks back at him from where she’s sitting on the big flat rock he likes to climb. She sits with her legs crossed and her mismatched boots tucked under her, hands on her knees. She’s more purple today, less red. He likes purple.

He lifts a hand. She mirrors. She doesn’t smile at him, not unless he smiles first, but he likes that too; people smile at him like they think it will help, but it doesn’t. Mama’s still in the ground, no matter who smiles.

The smooth stones in his pockets click against each other as he sloshes over, clambers up out of the creek. The colorful lady doesn't move. Her hair is just the same length as his, but bright, like the sun, like the flickers in the hearth when Papa pokes the firelogs. She waits for him to climb the rock to sit beside her and opens a hand to him, palm up.

He watches the butterfly, shimmering, glittering, shake itself out like waking up. It looks like a jewel, like he imagines kings wear on all their fingers. It moves its wings very slowly.

Wiggling her fingers, the colorful lady lifts her hand to toss it into the air. She does smile, a little, at the way it bobs in the breeze; he thinks she has a nice smile. When she looks back at him, though, it’s gone again. Like a ghost. He hesitates, then takes hold of her sleeve (purple and purple and yellow and purple again, all swirled and laced and spotted and striped). It feels real. He doesn’t know the names of all the fabrics, yet—but it’s not scratchy. Smooth. Warm, from the sun.

He hasn’t heard his own voice in months. Not since they told him Mama was gone. Not since the colorful lady started visiting. “What’s your name?” he whispers. He sounds wrong.

She doesn’t seem to mind. “What do you want to call me?”

Her voice isn’t scratchy, either. He pulls, without knowing why, at her sleeve; she turns her whole body to face him, leans her elbows on her knees. He doesn’t, suddenly, want to know her name. Knowing might break it. He tries something else. “Are you real?”

“Are you?” She takes one of his smooth little stones from his hand, flips it in the air with her thumb. “Does it matter?”

He hesitates. In the stories, it’s three questions. He doesn’t think he wants to use any more words after that, anyway. He needs to think, then, to pick carefully. He takes another stone from his pockets, hurls it into the creek. It makes a big splash that scares away all the little fish.

She tosses hers, too—hers skips straight across, lands on the other side in the weeds.

“Will I always see you?” It’s not what he wanted to ask. He doesn’t know, yet, what he was going to ask, but he feels his eyes sting, sees the whole world going blurry, because it’s the wrong question, and now he’s used up all his words.

The colorful lady leans back on her hands, looking at him. He doesn’t want to look back. He doesn’t want to finally see pity from her, too. “You might,” she says. “You might not.” And then, gentle, “Grief makes you all a little… Hm.” Her hand alights on top of his head, light as a butterfly. “You don’t have to listen to them, you know.”

It feels like one of his skipping stones is stuck in his throat. He swallows. When he looks, she’s not wavery at all. Just bright. Her one funny eye looks like the sun itself. He wishes he had another question. To ask—how long it will hurt, like this.

She has a nice smile. He believes it. And even though he can’t ask it out loud, she says, “Oh: forever.”

[lunarubra]

Cillian Murphy’s Bedtime Routine

By Wendi Aarons and Johanna Gohmann.

5 p.m.

Call ’round to the pub and dine on a hearty meal of potatoes, bangers, and the knowledge that you are Christopher Nolan’s favorite.

6 p.m.

Return home to stand before the hearth and mournfully play Billie Eilish’s “What Was I Made For?” on the panpipes.

6:10 p.m.

Whisper, “I was made to bring my ethereal talent to the mortal world.”

6:30 p.m.

Try on various peaked caps whilst drinking bathtub gin. Select a cap for the evening’s bath, throwing others back into the peaked-cap room. Add Guinness glitter bath bomb to gin. Soak.

7 p.m.

Slip into a floor-length dressing gown made by Colin Farrell’s nana—because only real men can pull off antique lace.

7:05 p.m.

Carefully polish both magnificently chiselled cheekbones with separate sticks of Kerrygold butter (unsalted).

7:15 p.m.

Exfoliate. Stare into the mirror and solemnly declare, “Now I am become Dewy, destroyer of premature wrinkling.”

7:30 p.m.

Mainline an entire bottle of Visine into left eye in order to maintain its dazzling azure hue. Repeat with right eye.

8 p.m.

Work on rap song by alter-ego Chillian Murf Dawg. After crafting multiple sick rhymes about Barry Keoghan’s junk, summon wee faeries to mop brow with silken kerchief.

8:20 p.m.

Text Paul Mescal a gif of Bradley Cooper looking sad, with caption “LOL.”

8:25 p.m.

Scour the Internet for any entertainment journalist who refers to you as “magically delicious.” Have them swatted.

9 p.m.

Make gentle but furious love to the ghost of Molly Malone.

10 p.m.

Throw open the shutters and shout, “I am the Father of the atomic bomb!” But in Gaelic.

10:01 p.m.

Climb into four-poster canopy bed and watch “CSI: Miami” on phone to drown out the wail of the banshee.

11 p.m.

Drift into the kind of deep, peaceful slumber that only comes when one rests one’s head in the thirty-two counties.

Article can be found here.

[truemeg]

The Lost Potter extra scene: The Cousins

Originally posted on AO3

Read The Lost Potter on AO3

Albus’ reunion with the extended family isn’t so smooth-sailing. Rose can tell from a mile away. So she finally takes a chance to talk to him alone.

This one-shot is part of a series of one shots taking place in "The Lost Potter" verse. You will have to read the original fic to understand these.

This one is focused on Rose & Albus and mentions Scorbus in the background.

_____

Rose hadn’t really thought about how this wasn’t going to be a normal Christmas afternoon.

For years now, the tradition on Christmas day was that all of the Weasley families would gather at the Burrow for dinner all together. What would start as an exciting and energetic afternoon – filled with talking, celebrating, and lots of kids stumbling around the Burrow doing Merlin knew what – would wind down into a cozy evening with a fire in the hearth, a brisk cold outside, and family members with full bellies relaxing late into the night before finally going home. It was something everyone looked forward to every year.

Rose in particular liked bragging to her grandparents about how excellent school was going, playing and hanging out with her cousins, and eating all the delicious food. She only saw the Christmas tradition as something happy and cozy.

She was eager for that same feeling when she stepped up to the door of the Burrow and let herself in. But she wasn’t greeted with the usual hello and hug from Grandma Molly. Because Molly was too busy crying while she was crushing Albus in a fierce hug.

Oh, right. Albus was here now.

No one even noticed when Rose walked in the door. Her parents got a quick hello, but there was no other acknowledgement while their attention was taken up by Albus. The same thing happened when others started to arrive too. Quick greetings in passing from her aunts and uncles, all of them brushing past so they could see Albus again. In between it all, Rose did see Albus sneak her a wave before Grandma Molly enveloped him in a hug again.

This start to the event was a pretty good indicator about how the day ended up going. Albus got all sorts of questions before and during dinner, with the entire table going quiet to listen to his boring answer to their dull questions. Did Albus play Quidditch? What was his best class? Did he have a girlfriend? Rose rolled her eyes at that one, and she wasn’t surprised when Albus said no, and also didn’t mention that he was more likely to have a boyfriend instead, and a Malfoy at that.

At least her family had a little bit of tact regarding the elephant in the room. They didn’t ask him about any of the serious stuff. Rose was well aware that Albus was over having to talk about that.

She noticed very quickly how much quieter Albus was today compared to when they were, say, hanging out at school. Albus was still on the introverted side, but she and the gang had managed to pull him out of his shell once they got to know him. Because he really was just a normal kid like any of them. His best subject was Potions, he liked reading, was pretty good at drawing, he hadn’t lost a game of Gobstones yet, and had a bad habit of stealing things here and there.

Which was why it was so baffling for Rose to see Albus on this pedestal again. Albus was just a normal kid, just another Weasley cousin. And everyone was treating him like a shiny new toy instead. And Rose would see as the evening wore on that Albus was retreating into himself again. His answers were short, he stumbled over his words, ducked his eyes away, and fidgeted a lot.

For his sake and her own sake, Rose hoped that after dinner, the focus would shift to anything else.

“I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

No such luck.

Rose stopped in the threshold leading into the living room, where many of the adults had gathered. Everyone was circled around and watching Harry while he was talking. “And I’ve been scared plenty of times. But seeing my son again, and a few seconds later he’s unconscious on the ground…”

Rose immediately stepped away. The story of the night on the Quidditch pitch made her shiver. But what really made her skin crawl in that moment was seeing Harry just now. The fear in his expression, in his furrowed brows, his hunched shoulders. It was exactly the way Albus looked when he recounted that night to her and their friends. They had snuck up to the Astronomy Tower late one night, and it was Yann who was brave enough to ask Albus and Scorpius exactly what they’d gone through. Until then, none of them had known all the details. So Albus told them, gripping Scorpius’ hand like a lifeline, like he was reliving the night right then and there.

Like father, like son. Rose was happy to avoid that conversation tonight.

In the shuffle after dinner, all the cousins drifted off in different directions. The younger ones were playing some sort of game upstairs. Most of the older ones were in another room, and James, Freddie, and Louis had gone outside to go for a “walk.”

Albus was nowhere in sight.

Rose checked each room, and didn’t see him anywhere. He definitely hadn’t been involved in the game, and she was certain he hadn’t gone with James…

Until she got to the top floor and found Albus inside the last bedroom - her dad’s old bedroom, actually - leaning out the open window to the cold air outside.

“Are you finally getting some space up here?” Rose asked.

Albus jumped when he turned around. But Rose saw him visibly relax when he saw her. “Oh. Hey Rose.”

Rose crossed the room and joined Albus by the window. Both of them leaned against the sill, the chill of the cold air a stark contrast from the warmth inside the Burrow. Above, it was a clear night with stars peeking out from behind the clouds scattering the sky. Below, Rose could just make out the figures of a few cousins hanging out in the farm fields.

“How’s your first family Christmas dinner going?” Rose asked.

“It’s…good,” Albus replied.

Rose hadn’t any moments alone with Albus before. They didn’t interact at all before this whole thing came about, and after all that she only interacted with him when they were in their group. She knew when he was getting quiet and nervous, but she was never the one to deal with that. That became Scorpius’ forte.

The two of them were so close now, Rose had to wonder how that happened so fast. Fast enough that Rose could tell they had to be more than friends, at this point. And they were either dancing around the subject or they were being obtuse. Either one was a possibility.

But Rose set that aside. They’d figure it out sooner or later. If they hadn’t already.

“I would imagine tonight is overwhelming,” she continued. “Especially with this family. You know there’s so many of us.”

“Yeah…”Albus replied. Rose noticed his fidgeting fingers again. She was just thinking she may have to try harder to get something out of him, but surprisingly, Albus continued a moment later. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

“The whole family downstairs…I don’t remember anyone’s name and at this point I’m too afraid to ask.”

Rose couldn’t stop herself from laughing at that. Albus smiled as well, and visibly relaxed a little bit. “You don’t remember any of them? It’s only been a couple hours, Albus.”

“The whole night’s been kind of a blur…” Albus glanced at her briefly. “I feel bad. They’re all family, you know? I should know them.”

Rose nudged him with her shoulder. “You barely remember your immediate family. I think you can have a free pass to forget your extended family. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Albus smiled and nodded.

“And since you’re being honest, I am going to be honest too.” Rose paused briefly while Albus glanced at her. “I forgot you were going to be here.”

Albus’ brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Albus, “ Rose shifted to face him a little more. “We never, you know, admitted we were cousins. Or whatever we were supposed to do. Never mentioned it at all. You must have noticed that too. And maybe that was on me to say something but…when you came back to school and you were you , I never thought about how we are actually family. And you became my friend. I just treated you like everything was normal.”

Rose wondered if that was in big part due to how she treated this whole situation growing up. She vaguely remembered Albus before he went missing, but largely he was just the missing cousin they didn’t talk about much. Not at home, not at family gatherings like tonight. Not much, at least. She did remember over the years overhearing his name mentioned in a solemn tone over dinner, or walking in on a quiet conversation where he was mentioned, and inevitably someone’s eyes would always turn red and watery. The topic was always floating around the family. But she had never had any involvement in the topic. As a child, it was a thing she could ignore.

But staying un-involved wasn’t the right thing to do anymore.

“But it’s not normal. Not really. I never admitted you were my cousin who was missing.”

They lapsed into silence for a few moments. A few stories below, whatever game the kids were playing had gotten a little louder, and the group hanging out outside had wandered a little further away, not even visible in the dark anymore. Rose shivered a little when a gust of wind blew past.

It was Albus who broke the silence. “You know it’s okay that you treated me that way.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sometimes I need it,” Albus said. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I’m over all this attention everyone’s giving me. I thought it was over by now but…” He shrugged. “I never wanted to be this…spectacle.”

Rose was looking at Albus. Though she had ignored the topic thus far, it really was fascinating that Albus had been through all he had been. All at once he looked like the shy kid she occasionally shared classes with at Hogwarts, the missing Potter child, a member of her family and her friend, and a young fifteen year old.

“That’s why you were quiet around everyone today. Because they treated you like a shiny new toy,” Rose said.

“Yeah,” Albus replied. “That and there’s so many of them…though I guess we’re all family now. I’ll get used to it or they’ll get used to me.”

“Everyone here means well. And we’re happy you’re home.” Rose put an arm across Albus’ shoulders. She smiled when she felt him lean into it too. It was good to have her cousin back.

She could now see a future with more Christmas dinners and Albus fitting right in to the family. Moments at school where she could confidently call Albus her cousin. More normalcy in the chaos around them.

“Albus,” Rose started. “Before we move on completely from the topic of you going missing and everything. I just want you to know that none of us ever believed the theory that Harry killed you and there was some sort of coverup.”

“Wait, what?”

Rose pulled away, clapping her hands together. “Okay. Now that that’s out of the way. Come on.”

Since no one lived in this room anymore, there wasn’t much to be found up here. But Rose did manage to find a quill and notebook to rip an empty page out of. She motioned Albus to the floor, where they both sat down and Rose started to write out names of her family members with lines drawn between them.

“Right. This is your mum, dad, and siblings. Your mum’s the youngest and only girl of seven kids. My dad’s the second youngest…”

Rose continued on, Albus watching with rapt attention. Wrapped in the warmth of the Burrow against the chilly winter's night, they settled in. The Christmas tradition was feeling like normal again. Now it would be even a little better than it had been in the past.

[krsive-writes]

Rickorty Week 2023: Any Which Way

Title: Don't You Dare Fool ME

Author: krsive

Rating: T

Tags/Warnings: High School AU

Rick should never have listened to Tammy, but she was Brandon’s girlfriend now and his best friend was so pussy-whipped that he had lost his damn mind. He was always telling Rick she wasn’t so bad, that they should just let her have her way, that he needed to loosen up. Who the hell had ever told Rick to loosen up?! Ridiculous. She was a megabitch, but Brandon couldn’t see it and Sam was too high all the time to really make much of an ally. So when Tammy sprang the dare on him in the popular kids’ group text, Rick had found himself quite alone in objecting.

Fine. They had bribed him eventually with some molly and so tonight he had found himself picking up Morty Smith to be his date to homecoming.

It didn’t go the way Rick had expected at all. Morty was cute, now that Rick actually stopped to look, and his company felt like a warm glow, like a fire in the hearth in the deep midwinter. He was almost too shy to look at Rick at all, but he laughed at his jokes with such sincerity. He was clearly nervous about showing up to the dance with a boy, and Rick had sympathy for his fretting; coming out wasn't easy. Everyone knew that Rick was a shameless pansexual slut, but rumors about Morty's sexuality had been pure speculation. That was why, Tammy had explained, this was going to be so epic.

Halfway through the first slow dance, Rick had started to doubt his mission. It felt so nice to hold the other boy in his arms. There was something about their connection that was so electric. Rick hadn't ever felt this way about a date before. No crush had ever had his heart in his throat like this.

As the dance progressed he had grown even more jittery. Now was supposed to be the time.    Rick had driven them to the park near his house to sit on the picnic tables and watch the stars twinkle. He took belts from his flask, hoping to fortify himself and just get the stupid dare over with. He chain smoked, too, lighting each new one with the glowing cherry of the previous as they chatted nervously.

''H-Hey, Rick?" Morty, eyes cast down, picked at a loose thread on his cuff.

"Yeah?"

''I had s-such a good time," he said. He spoke slowly, like he was navigating a minefield one step at a time.

"Good." Was it, though? Maybe this would be easier if Morty had already been disillusioned. ''That was the point, right?''

''I guess. But..." He glanced up at Rick and back down.

Rick gave him some time to go on, but the air remained still. "But what?" he prompted.

"But why did you ask me out?" There was a thickness to his voice now. "You don't know me. You're probably the most popular guy in school a-a-and I'm just the kid who gets shoved in lockers."

''That's, uh..." Rick flicked his cigarette away; it didn't taste so good anymore. "That's pretty insightful, there."

"Everyone thinks I'm so s-stupid, so I guess you thought I wouldn't notice it was weird."

"Yeah…I guess you're not so dumb, after all."

Rick had a sudden need to not be there, so he stood abruptly and walked down the slope to the bank of the pond. He picked up a stone and sent it skipping over the calm waters. Morty wasn't far behind, but at least on his feet Rick felt a little less trapped.

"So why?" Morty demanded. ''What's the deal? Wh-Why are you even hanging out with me?"

"Mysterious popular guy reasons." With a sharp throw, Rick skipped another stone.

"It's not funny.''

"I'm not laughing.''

"I just wished i-it could be real." Morty was definitely crying now. Rick resisted the urge to look. "You did everything so romantic. And w-w-we slow danced and everything. I guess I really am stupid."

A third stone went flying over the dark water. "I had a good time, too. I had a great time."

"Liar."

"Sure, I'm a liar. But I mean this one."

"You know I'm just unpopular and ugly and stupid, s-so just take me home, Rick!"

"You're not ugly. You're kind of infuriatingly cute."

"Stop it." Pathetic, Morty sniffled wetly.

Finally, Rick turned to face the other boy. He reached out and took his hand, and he held it though Morty tried to jerk away. Rick pulled him close and slipped his arm around him. They both breathed unevenly, frozen in the moonlight.

"I'm gonna kiss you, now," said Rick, slow and even like Morty was a frightened horse.

''R-Really?"

Morty's rose petal lips tasted like his salt tears, but that felt somehow so perfect, It was like he could taste the intensity of the moment. The spark Rick felt as soon as they touched nearly took his legs from under him. He clutched tighter, pulling Morty's tiny body against his own. Everything else fell away, all the sludge of Rick's misery sloughed off to leave this perfect moment unsullied. Morty's mouth opened for his tongue so eagerly. This kiss was different from any Rick had ever felt. It was like their hearts had synced up with the press of their lips. Morty moaned into his mouth.

When Rick pulled away, Morty clutched at his shirt and bounced up on his toes to try and chase the kiss. He had lost all control, crying so hard now. Rick brushed tears from his cheeks. He felt such a strong need to protect this boy. Self hatred coiled in wait at the edge of his mind, waiting to punish him for what he had meant to do to this sweet angel.

"Be my novio," he said, surprising both of them. Yet as soon as the words took form, he felt the true desire in them.

"What?"

"Boyfriend. Be my boyfriend."

Morty, still crying, studied Rick's face. "Wh-Why did you ask me to the dance?"

"Come on, Morty. I-I don't want to talk about that."

"Why? I need to know the truth."

"It doesn't matter anymore, ok? I like you now. I want us to be together."

"I can't do it i-i-if you can just lie to me." Morty was shaking so hard he could barely keep his feet, so Rick scooped him up in his arms to carry him back to the picnic tables.

"It was a dare," he said, looking anywhere but Morty's face.     

“I knew it.” Morty's voice echoed up out of a pit of misery.

"I was supposed to try and get a picture of your dick and show it to those assholes."

Morty only cried harder. He tried to speak but nothing came out right.

Rick placed him gently on the tabletop. "It's not like that any more."

"I wanna go h-home."

"Will you just listen to me? I want you to be my boyfriend. I don't want you to cry anymore.” Rick clasped Morty's hand in his own. "I've never been someone's boyfriend and I—I just know I’m gonna be a fuckup but you make me feel things, Morty, and I want to try for you, so please?"

"Your friends will make fun of you if you really mean it."

"Then they're dicks and I don't wanna be like that anymore. I'd rather lose all of them than do this stupid bet to you"

"If you don't care about your reputation then why do you care about my reputation?”

"Because I deserve it and you don't." Rick placed a tender kiss on Morty’s forehead. "I can take it. Fuck anyone who wants to keep us apart. You..." Rick grit his teeth, breathed through his nose. "Please, Morty?"

Morty buried his face against Rick's chest. A light breeze ruffled Rick's hair, tickling his ear. For a long time, it was quiet between them.

''O-Ok. Yes.” Morty’s lip was trembling when he looked up at Rick. “I want that. I want it so bad."

Rick crushed Morty’s body against his own. He didn't know what to say. A thrill shook him and left him exhausted in its wake. They found each other's lips again, and there was fire between them now. Rick swallowed Morty's sobs right off of his tongue.

The heat faded gradually, and Rick slipped his phone from his pocket. He broke away from Morty's sweet kisses just long enough to open the camera app and get the two of them in frame. Arm looped around Morty's neck, Rick took a picture of himself kissing Morty on the corner of his mouth, flipping off the camera all the while. Morty even giggled when he was done. Rick felt his heart brighten, lighting him up from within. This was going to be the best adventure, he could just feel it.

Later that night, after makeouts and mosquito bites and the inevitable fight with his dad after missing curfew, Rick sat in his room smiling at the photographic evidence of his good fortune. He sent the photo to the group text, along with a caption.

>> Joke's on you guys, I fell in love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And that's Day 1! So far, so fun!

You guys can find my collection on AO3 at this link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47972983

[danpuff-ao3]

HP Astro # 22: Ron Weasley

Did you know our hot-headed, red-headed hottie is a water sign?? In fairness, water signs are pretty sexy...Just look at him!:

What a watery king.

Let's begin with the surface level; what Ron shows us: Cancer Rising.

The crab is moody. There is a hard outer shell protecting soft, tender innards. Cancer is nurturing, and protective; Cancer is ruled by the moon, which has connections to the mother and the home.

Sensitive, and defensive. Devoted, and sympathetic. Ron is all of these things.

Above all, Cancer Rising points to the Moon as the chart ruler. The Moon as Mother, and Home. Ron's roots are hugely important to him, and to who he is. There is a level of bitterness towards those roots; his low-income, large family. Overshadowed by five older brothers. But there are strong bonds there, too; and pride. And love. It is the way of families to annoy each other, antagonize each other, while also defending each other to the death.

I'd argue that, more than all of his siblings, Ron most embodies that maternal energy; the mama bear vibes shared by his mother, Molly.

Ron can be a grump. He takes slights to heart. This is because he cares. He cares, arguably, "too much." He loves others "too much." And he wants to be loved, and valued, by others as much as he loves and values them.

And if that Cancerian need to withdraw, or lash out, in defense of the self hurts loved ones, Ron always comes back around. Because love and loyalty will always take priority to him, no matter how he missteps. No matter what, Ron will always be there for his loved ones at the end of the day; providing the structure and support for them that he craves for himself.

Ron is hearth and home. He is a creature of comfort. He wants to eat good food and snuggle up by the fire. He wants familial bonds; connecting over games of chess or flying with his brothers.

From the start, Ron (the family man) connects with Harry (the orphan) and more or less adopts him. They share (as families do) food (source of nurturing; food's connection to love.) They are joined at the hip from the start. They join the same House (home), and Ron never leaves Harry alone. He joins him on adventures. He rescues him from Privet Drive. Ron follows Harry, not as an admirer or an acolyte or annoyance, but as a brother. A brother in arms, a brother at heart. A caretaker, in some ways, and protector.

Let's take a closer look at Ron's Moon. His moon, center of emotion and the subconscious, is in Virgo: the Maiden. Virgo is the sign of service and health. (Doing for others, as mothers do.) It is fulfilling to his soul to look after others. Virgo is also the critic, and a perfectionist. Analytical, and practical. This is a sign of planning, and adaptability; of strategy, as chess-masters should be. He is patient, and driven, and again, values structure.

Ron is not, perhaps, academically driven, but he is not lacking in smarts. This is out of the box thinking; problem solving as problems come. He is curious and intuitive; he thinks on his feet. He is dedicated to fixing what is broken, and building what is useful and helpful.

Caring for others in less overt, fussy ways. An acts of service sort of man, our Ron.

His moon is also in the Fourth House: House of Home. The Fourth House is roots, and family. Your history. Where you come from. Where you feel at home, and who you feel at home with. The family you were born to, and the family that you make. How you are shaped by those who and what made you.

The moon is at home in the fourth house; their aims are similar. Both have a connection to the mother, and to nurturing and comfort.

Ron's emotional needs are connected to his roots. To the connections he's made with others. Family time matters. Being there for family matters. Building a family matters. Building and maintaining a home. Having a place to return to after a long day; a place to put up your feet and relax. It is sitting by the hearth and sharing your heritage with the next generation.

Wherever life takes Ron, whatever adventures he has, whatever goals he strives for, he needs that support of a home base to feel content. And he needs people in his life to share those experiences, and stories, with.

Remember when Hermione told Ron he had the emotional range of a teaspoon? She wasn't quite right (blasphemy, I know), but we can see where she might have seen this.

Perhaps it is the Virgoan moon, and its cold, over-analytical (and critical) energy in the arena of emotion.

Or, perhaps, it is this: Ron's moon opposes his sun.

The two luminaries in opposition. This is an internal struggle we can't envy. Torn between wants and needs. Torn by indecision. Torn by the see-sawing between one focus and the other. His sense of self at odds with where his heart lies. There is a fluctuation of energy and drive; why he can be seen as lazy and gluttonous in some moments, and leap into fierce, grand action the next.

And what opposes his Virgoan moon? His Piscean Sun, of course.

The sun, the core, the ego, the self in Pisces: the Dreamer. Whimsical, romantic, head-in-the-clouds Pisces.

Pisces has a placid surface, but its waters run deep. The vastness, the beauty, the splendor; the horror, and danger, and depth of the ocean. Pisces is the last sign in the zodiac, the oldest. There is wisdom in Pisces. It is transcendent. But Pisces is no aged mage preaching his philosophies; Pisces is your kooky, quirky grandfather. They are looking ever upward; looking towards higher-learning, and higher-power. Their focus is heavenward. On dreams, and other dimensions. The sort of soul-deep knowledge and intuition that can't be put to words, and is scoffed at by others.

Ron is smarter than he seems, remember? And with a better grasp on feelings and relationships than he is often given credit for.

Pisces has lived a long life, and so they let go. They let the tide carry them away. They are prone to addiction, and curiosities. They are fascinated by love, and by magic. A sort of hippie energy. A philosopher who has done too many drugs, and you can't decide if they sound coo-coo for Cocoa puffs, or if they are wise beyond human understanding. If they have met with aliens or fae who have shared the secrets of the universe, which are too great for human language.

Too great for even human Pisces to fully understand. It is comfort and knowing in the soul, not the mind. Ron follows his gut, follows his urges, follows pleasure and adventure. For the experience. To live life fully before it's gone.

He is compassionate, and yes, again: sensitive.

His sun, his core self, is also in the Tenth House: House of Status. Public image, career achievement, aspirations. This is the center of ambition! Ron wants to be great. He wants to stand out from the crowd. He wants to be important. All the harder to manage with five older brothers. And a very famous, heroic best friend. And an insanely smart, driven friend. With wealthier, classier peers. With little resources to help carry him along.

A dreamy, enlightened self versus a practical, critical heart. What's a wizard to do?

Pisces' influence also colors Ron's Mercury; his center of information. Mercury is how we learn, how we teach. How we communicate. How our minds work. For Ron, his ways of knowing are not hard facts or what can be read in a book. He has little patience for books. Where he thrives is in subtleties and nuance. What information his gut gives him. Pisces can be indirect, impressionable, and unrealistic. Expressing himself might not always go as planned, and can lend itself to miscommunication. Remember, it's hard to pin Pisces down in words.

Mars, Ron's center of drive and action, share the Virgoan of the moon. He is prompted to motion by his need for structure, stability, perfection, and service. Driven by the need to help others. To make things better for others. To provide support for others.

Venus gives us those sparks of fire in Ron, powered by Aries the ram. However unsure and wrong-footed Ron feels elsewhere, in the realm of pleasure (relationships, hobbies, preferences) he is assertive, passionate, and demanding. Love is a slow burn that steadily rages and consumes. What the ram wants, the ram chases after. This is, funnily enough, the place Ron can be most selfish. Where he gives in every other aspect, he is so enraptured by his own desires, it can be hard for him to focus on others.

Aries energy is bright heat. It is movement, and athleticism, and adventure, and boldness. Ron enjoys (Venus) his adventures (Aries) with Harry and Hermione. He likes (Venus) the thrill and the heat of the fight (Aries.) He has fun (Venus) with the competition and aggression of sports (Aries.)

The objects of his desire (Venus) inflame him (Aries), and he chases them (Aries) and fights for them (Aries), and, with luck, he can woo them (Venus.) Have fun with them, make them happy. Venus in Aries is heat and thrills and fun. And any lover of his has to be able to keep up.

That Ron can be both a gentle nurturer, and a passionate lover...any partner of his is very lucky indeed!

Venus is also in the Eleventh House: House of Friendship. House of Organizations and Community. He is drawn to interests he can enjoy with others (chess, Quidditch); he is sociable, and has fun with, and is entertained by, others. A good time for Ron means being surrounded by those he has bonds to, however casual. And he is more likely to choose romantic interests from those shared groups: Gryffindor (community), the Order (organization), Quidditch (team), a friend (...friends.)

[of-foolish-and-wise]

Welcome to New York’s legendary hotel for women, the Barbizon. Liberated after WWI from home and hearth, women flocked to New York City during the Roaring Twenties. But even as women’s residential hotels became the fashion, the Barbizon stood out; it was designed for young women with artistic aspirations, and included soaring art studios and soundproofed practice rooms. More importantly still, with no men allowed beyond the lobby, the Barbizon signaled respectability, a place where a young woman of a certain class could feel at home. As the stock market crashed and the Great Depression set in, the clientele changed, though women’s ambitions did not; the Barbizon Hotel became the go-to destination for any young American woman with a dream to be something more. While Sylvia Plath most famously fictionalized her time there in The Bell Jar, the Barbizon was also where Titanic survivor Molly Brown sang her last aria; where Grace Kelly danced topless in the hallways; where Joan Didion got her first taste of Manhattan; and where both Ali MacGraw and Jaclyn Smith found their calling as actresses. It was home to American royalty like Liza Minnelli and Little Edie Beale, who made their way here as they attempted life beyond their famous family homes. Students of the prestigious Katharine Gibbs Secretarial School had three floors to themselves, Eileen Ford used the hotel as a guest house for her youngest models, and Mademoiselle magazine boarded its summer interns there, including a young designer named Betsey Johnson.

x

[rockislandadultreads]

Women’s History Month: More Nonfiction Recommendations

The Barbizon by Paulina Bren

Welcome to New York's legendary hotel for women.

Liberated from home and hearth by World War I, politically enfranchised and ready to work, women arrived to take their place in the dazzling new skyscrapers of Manhattan. But they did not want to stay in uncomfortable boarding houses. They wanted what men already had - exclusive residential hotels with maid service, workout rooms, and private dining.

Built in 1927, at the height of the Roaring Twenties, the Barbizon Hotel was designed as a luxurious safe haven for the "Modern Woman" hoping for a career in the arts. Over time, it became the place to stay for any ambitious young woman hoping for fame and fortune. Sylvia Plath fictionalized her time there in The Bell Jar, and, over the years, it's almost 700 tiny rooms with matching floral curtains and bedspreads housed, among many others, Titanic survivor Molly Brown; actresses Grace Kelly, Liza Minnelli, Ali MacGraw, Jaclyn Smith; and writers Joan Didion, Gael Greene, Diane Johnson, Meg Wolitzer. Mademoiselle magazine boarded its summer interns there, as did Katharine Gibbs Secretarial School its students and the Ford Modeling Agency its young models. Before the hotel's residents were household names, they were young women arriving at the Barbizon with a suitcase and a dream.

Not everyone who passed through the Barbizon's doors was destined for success - for some, it was a story of dashed hopes - but until 1981, when men were finally let in, the Barbizon offered its residents a room of their own and a life without family obligations. It gave women a chance to remake themselves however they pleased; it was the hotel that set them free. No place had existed like it before or has since.

D-Day Girls by Sarah Rose

In 1942, the Allies were losing, Germany seemed unstoppable, and every able man in England was on the front lines. To “set Europe ablaze,” in the words of Winston Churchill, the Special Operations Executive  (SOE), whose spies were trained in everything from demolition to sharpshooting, was forced to do something unprecedented: recruit women. Thirty-nine answered the call, leaving their lives and families to become saboteurs in France.

In D-Day Girls, Sarah Rose draws on recently de­classified files, diaries, and oral histories to tell the thrilling story of three of these remarkable women. There’s Andrée Borrel, a scrappy and streetwise Parisian who blew up power lines with the Gestapo hot on her heels; Odette Sansom, an unhappily married suburban mother who saw the SOE as her ticket out of domestic life and into a meaningful adventure; and Lise de Baissac, a fiercely independent member of French colonial high society and the SOE’s unflap­pable “queen.” Together, they destroyed train lines, ambushed Nazis, plotted prison breaks, and gathered crucial intelligence - laying the groundwork for the D-Day invasion that proved to be the turning point in the war.

Heiresses by Laura Thompson

Heiresses: surely they are among the luckiest women on earth. Are they not to be envied, with their private jets and Chanel wardrobes and endless funds? Yet all too often those gilded lives have been beset with trauma and despair. Before the 20th century a wife’s inheritance was the property of her husband, making her vulnerable to kidnap, forced marriages, even confinement in an asylum. And in modern times, heiresses fell victim to fortune-hunters who squandered their millions.

Heiresses tells the stories of these million dollar babies: Mary Davies, who inherited London’s most valuable real estate, and was bartered from the age of twelve; Consuelo Vanderbilt, the original American “Dollar Heiress”, forced into a loveless marriage; Barbara Hutton, the Woolworth heiress who married seven times and died almost penniless; and Patty Hearst, heiress to a newspaper fortune who was arrested for terrorism. However, there are also stories of independence and achievement: Angela Burdett-Coutts, who became one of the greatest philanthropists of Victorian England; Nancy Cunard, who lived off her mother's fortune and became a pioneer of the civil rights movement; and Daisy Fellowes, elegant linchpin of interwar high society and noted fashion editor.

Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly 

Before John Glenn orbited the earth, or Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, a group of dedicated female mathematicians known as “human computers” used pencils, slide rules and adding machines to calculate the numbers that would launch rockets, and astronauts, into space.

Among these problem-solvers were a group of exceptionally talented African American women, some of the brightest minds of their generation. Originally relegated to teaching math in the South’s segregated public schools, they were called into service during the labor shortages of World War II, when America’s aeronautics industry was in dire need of anyone who had the right stuff. Suddenly, these overlooked math whizzes had a shot at jobs worthy of their skills, and they answered Uncle Sam’s call, moving to Hampton, Virginia and the fascinating, high-energy world of the Langley Memorial Aeronautical Laboratory.

Even as Virginia’s Jim Crow laws required them to be segregated from their white counterparts, the women of Langley’s all-black “West Computing” group helped America achieve one of the things it desired most: a decisive victory over the Soviet Union in the Cold War, and complete domination of the heavens.

Starting in World War II and moving through to the Cold War, the Civil Rights Movement and the Space Race, Hidden Figures follows the interwoven accounts of Dorothy Vaughan, Mary Jackson, Katherine Johnson and Christine Darden, four African American women who participated in some of NASA’s greatest successes. It chronicles their careers over nearly three decades they faced challenges, forged alliances and used their intellect to change their own lives, and their country’s future.

[ofmollyweasley]

BASIC INFORMATION

Character name: Margaret "Molly" Olivia Weasley Age: 32 Gender & Pronouns: Female. She/her Occupation: Stay-at-home mom Blood status: Pureblood Previous house: Gryffindor Previous Affiliation: Order of the Phoenix Face claim: America Fererra Traits: Positive - Maternal, reliable, trustworty Negative - Flirty, judgmental, hot tempered

Biography

Molly Prewett was welcomed into the world on a chilly autumn evening, October 30, 1949, in a picturesque wizarding cottage nestled in the heart of the English countryside. Her birth brought an indescribable joy to Charles and Eleanor Prewett, who had longed for a child to share their magical world. Molly was not just their firstborn; she embodied their hopes and dreams.

The Prewett family name resonated throughout the wizarding world, renowned for their prodigious talent in magic, particularly in the intricate arts of charms and enchantments. Molly's father, Charles Prewett was celebrated as a Charms Master extraordinaire. His lectures at the Wizarding Academy were legendary, and his scholarly pursuits often took him to distant corners of the magical world. His knowledge and expertise in charm work were revered, making him a respected figure amongst his peers.

On the other hand, Eleanor Prewett, Molly's mother, was a skilled potion-maker whose concoctions were sought after by potionmasters and healers alike. Her delicate touch and intuitive understanding of ingredients made her a wizarding artisan, and her potions graced the shelves of apothecaries across Britain. Eleanor's love for potion-making was only surpassed by her love for her family.

From an early age, Charles and Eleanor instilled in their children a profound sense of duty, responsibility, and the unshakable importance of family bonds. Their charming cottage was always filled with the aroma of brewing potions and the whispers of incantations. Molly grew up surrounded by magical tomes, cauldrons, and enchanted objects that made their home feel like a living, breathing extension of the wizarding world.

Molly's early years were also graced by the presence of her younger twin brothers, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, These rambunctious twins possessed an insatiable appetite for life and an utterly infectious penchant for mischief. Despite Molly's initial reluctance to partake in their wild escapades, she was drawn into their world of exploration and adventure.

The siblings shared an unbreakable bond that went beyond ordinary family bonds. Together, they learned the value of loyalty as they defended each other from playground bullies and imaginary creatures lurking in the woods. They discovered the importance of standing up for what was right when they uncovered a forbidden charm accidentally practiced by some older students. These shared experiences, filled with laughter, lessons, and a touch of mayhem, played a crucial role in shaping Molly's character.

In this enchanting and loving environment, Molly Prewett grew into a young witch with a heart as warm as her family's hearth and fierce as her father's most potent charms. Her journey from this idyllic childhood to becoming Molly Weasley, a central figure in the fight against the darkness that threatened the wizarding world, was one paved with love, resilience, and a commitment to the values she had learned from her extraordinary family.

Growing up in the Prewett household was not without its challenges. The First Wizarding War was on the horizon, and tensions within the wizarding world were escalating. Being well-versed in the political climate, Molly's parents taught their children the importance of fighting against dark forces and standing up for those who could not defend themselves.

Molly was excited and apprehensive as she embarked on her journey to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In its wise and ancient wisdom, the Sorting Hat found her a perfect fit for Gryffindor, the House known for its courage, bravery, and chivalry values. It was within the scarlet and gold banners of Gryffindor that Molly's character continued to flourish.

Academically, Molly continued to excel, just as she had back home. Her proficiency in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts became even more apparent at Hogwarts, and she quickly earned a reputation as a student who could always be counted on to master spells with precision and courage. Her determination to protect herself and her friends was evident in her dueling skills, which she honed tirelessly during her years at the school.

Molly's kindness and welcoming demeanor made her a beloved figure among her peers. She had a unique talent for bringing people together, often organizing impromptu gatherings in the Gryffindor common room or lending a sympathetic ear to those who needed it. Her innate ability to create a sense of belonging made her the go-to person for advice and camaraderie. 

But amid the bustling life of Hogwarts, there was another aspect of Molly's identity that was slowly becoming clear to her: her sexuality. As she grew older and more self-aware, Molly realized that she was attracted to both boys and girls. This discovery came gradually as she navigated through friendships and early romantic interests. Molly found herself drawn to individuals of all genders, and her heart didn't discriminate based on gender.

During her fifth year, Molly had a particularly enlightening and heartwarming experience with a close friend, Abigail Blackwood, another fellow Gryffindor. Their friendship had always been characterized by openness and trust. Then, one evening, the topic of relationships and attraction came up as they sat by the fireplace in the common room. Abigail, who identified as bisexual, shared her experiences and the beauty of embracing one's authentic self.

As their conversation deepened, Molly realized that her feelings for Abigail were more than friendship. They shared a connection that transcended the boundaries of gender, and it became clear that their hearts were entwined. They soon embarked on a loving and supportive relationship, which became a source of comfort and strength for both. Molly found solace in Abigail's embrace and the realization that she wasn't alone in her feelings. The acceptance and understanding she received from her friend-turned-lover made it easier for her to embrace her identity as a bisexual witch. Their relationship blossomed, creating a safe space for Molly to fully explore her emotions and desires.

From that moment on, Molly felt more comfortable with herself and her attractions. She became an advocate for acceptance and diversity within the wizarding community and a living example of love transcending societal norms. This aspect of Molly's life, her journey of self-discovery, acceptance, and the love she shared with Abigail would later inform her commitment to inclusivity and love in her role as a mother and a member of the wizarding world. It was yet another layer of her character, a testament to her capacity for empathy, her unwavering belief in embracing one's true self, and the beauty of love in all its forms.

After a year of a loving and supportive relationship with Abigail Blackwood, Molly faced a difficult truth. The intense connection they once shared began to wane, and it became apparent that their paths were diverging. It was a heart-wrenching decision, but Molly and Abigail agreed it was time to part ways. Their breakup was amicable, filled with tears and bittersweet farewells, but it was also a testament to their mutual respect for each other's journey.

During the following period, Molly leaned on her friendships for support, particularly her deep bond with Arthur Weasley. Arthur had been her best friend for years, a confidant with whom she had shared countless dreams, aspirations, and laughter. They had grown up together, faced the challenges of adolescence side by side, celebrated each other's victories, and consoled each other in times of loss.

As Molly navigated the complexities of her post-breakup emotions, she found comfort in Arthur's unwavering presence. He was not just her best friend; he was her anchor. Over time, their friendship evolved into something deeper and more profound. They discovered that their love and understanding for each other had transcended the boundaries of friendship.

One evening, under the starry skies of Hogwarts, with the scent of flowers in bloom and the magic of the wizarding world all around them, Arthur finally mustered the courage to express his feelings to Molly. He confessed that he had fallen deeply in love with her, and he had been harboring these emotions for years. Molly, touched by his sincerity and overwhelmed by her own realization that her heart had found its true match, reciprocated his feelings.

Their love story was like a phoenix rising from the ashes of past relationships, and it was as beautiful and enduring as the magic that surrounded them. Molly and Arthur Weasley became a couple, bound not only by their love for each other but also by their shared values, dreams, and the enduring friendship that laid the foundation for their love.

Shortly after Molly and Arthur Weasley officially became a couple, they graduated from Hogwarts, leaving behind the cherished halls of Gryffindor House and stepping out into the world as young adults filled with dreams and aspirations.

Molly was drawn to a career that reflected her compassionate nature and desire to impact the wizarding world positively. She decided to pursue a path in social work, focusing on working with disadvantaged children. Her determination to protect and nurture those in need was a driving force behind her decision.

As Molly dedicated herself to her studies and career, she and Arthur's love deepened. Their relationship was filled with shared laughter, dreams of the future, and countless hours spent discussing their plans. On a beautiful spring day, with the Burrow as the backdrop and their closest friends and family in attendance, Molly and Arthur exchanged vows and were married in a heartfelt ceremony.

Their marriage marked the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. Together, they faced the joys and challenges that life had in store for them. They were soon blessed with the arrival of their firstborn, Bill Weasley, who brought immeasurable joy to their lives.

Charlie, Percy, and the mischievous twins, Fred and George, followed rapidly, filling the Burrow with laughter and chaos. Molly and Arthur embraced the chaos with open hearts, raising their children with love, discipline, and the values instilled in them from their childhoods.

As the calendar flipped to January 1980, the Burrow buzzed with excitement again. Molly was expecting another addition to their already bustling household. The prospect of welcoming another child filled their hearts with anticipation and joy. Molly's nurturing nature would undoubtedly extend to this new member of their family, continuing the tradition of love and support that defined the Weasley household.

Molly and Arthur, now more in love than ever, looked forward to the adventures and challenges ahead as they prepared to welcome their sixth child into the world. With their unwavering love for each other and their dedication to their family, the Weasleys were a shining example of the power of love and unity, a beacon of hope in a world threatened by dark forces.

[songbird-and-her-fos]

So many years have passed

Darling I wish you were here.

He carefully stepped into the small grove, not too far from where his family‘s home, and carefully lowered himself onto the ground in front of the grave at its center.

The ground was warm as if it had basked in the summer sun, despite the harsh winds of winter howling just beyond the grove‘s threshold. She had hated the cold. So after her passing, he had made sure that it was always spring around her final resting place. Flowers of all colors grew brightly around the headstone, and some over it, but none of them covered the inscription.

Here lies Molly

Loving Hero, Wife and Mother

R.I.P

His fingers ran over the stone, and he felt his eyes burn. No; it was unbecoming of a god to cry. No matter how much he wanted to. No matter how the loss tugged at him as if wanting to make him unravel.

The stars lean down to kiss you And I lie awake and miss you Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere 'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly But I'll miss your arms around me I'd send a postcard to you, dear 'Cause I wish you were here

Had he not known? Of course he had. It was always a terrible idea for an immortal to get involved with a mortal. He had tried to keep her at a distance. Oh, how he had tried. But she had been so persistent, no matter how curt he was with her. She had chipped away at his emotional walls bit by bit, not even knowing that that was what she was doing, just by being her beautiful self. Until he broke down, and had to admit to himself that he did not have it in him to stay away from her.

Throughout their whole marriage he had braced himself for the inevitable. And yet, when it came to pass, he knew that nothing in the world could have truly prepared him for it.

She had been so fragile towards the end; time and hard work having taken their toll on her body over the years. He had held her in his arms when she breathed her last.

From a human perspective, she had lived a long and fulfilling life, passing shortly before her 95th birthday, sorrounded by her loved ones; meaning him, their two children, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren.

How could he ever explain to the rest of the family that while yes, her life had been quite long for a human, for him, it felt like he had had barely any time with her?

I'll watch the night turn light blue But it's not the same without you Because it takes two to whisper quietly The silence isn't so bad 'Til I look at my hands and feel sad 'Cause the spaces between my fingers Are right where yours fit perfectly

Love had been every bit as intoxicating as the many songs and stories of humanity had described it to be. But perhaps, he pondered while looking upon the grave, he would have been better off never knowing it. And he wondered if she had ever regretted being his wife.

Being a god‘s bride was anything but easy, he knew as much. He hadn‘t been able to share home and hearth with her, the way a proper husband would have. He had been tied to his shrine on the mountain, only being able to leave it for brief visits. Any other time, she had to come to him, always leaving him with the feeling that, despite all the love he felt for her, their relationship had been frustratingly one-sided. She had never seemed to mind, and if she did, she never said anything.

How he could only stare into the starlit sky at night and replay the few nights he had spent with her in his arms in his mind, over and over again.

But the memory never quite dulled the aching.

I'll find repose in new ways Though I haven't slept in two days 'Cause cold nostalgia chills me to the bone But drenched in vanilla twilight I'll sit on the front porch all night Waist deep in thought because when I think of you, I don't feel so alone

He placed his hand on the gravestone one more time, and for a moment he felt a flicker of a touch, like something reaching out to him.

Something rustled behind him, and he turned to find his children behind him. Though calling them children seemed quite inappropriate now. Amelia, his daughter, was pushing seventy, and Raphael, his son, was only two years younger than her. Though looking at them, one would have put them somewhere in their early to mid fourties. They hadn‘t inherited his immortality, but would be far more long-lived than average humans. Another thing he regretted; along with the longevity they had undoubtedly also inherited the inevitable heartbreak he was experiencing right now.

„I thought I saw you coming here“, Amelia said. „Why didn‘t you come to us first, father? We could have visited mother together.“

He managed a small smile. „I‘m sorry. But I wanted a short moment alone with her.“

„Bet you didn‘t get a whole lot of that after we were born“, Raphael quipped.

He couldn‘t help but chuckle. „Why else do you think your mother came to the mountain to see me every day once you were old enough to be left alone for a few hours?“

I don't feel so alone I don't feel so alone As many times as I blink I'll think of you tonight

I'll think of you tonight

Amelia placed the bouquet of flowers she had been holding at the grave. Once they touched the ground, roots sprouted from the stems and anchored themselves in the soil. Blooming like they had always grown there.

She took a step back and smiled. Then she turned to him again. „Why don‘t you stay for dinner, father? We‘re making baked apples. I may not be able to make them as well as mother did, but… I don‘t know. We can share stories about her.“

„I‘d love to“, he replied. Maybe spending some time with his children and telling old stories would help him.

As they left, he turned around one final time, seeing the shimmer of energy around the grave.

Until next time, my love.

When violet eyes get brighter And heavy wings grow lighter I'll taste the sky and feel alive again And I'll forget the world that I knew But I swear I won't forget you Oh if my voice could reach back through the past I'd whisper in your ear "Oh darling, I wish you were here"

[konstantintreplev]

fills for exchanges

hey hey! i've been participating in a LOT of exchanges as of late -- it's a good way to keep me writing! here's a list of what i've written to date (all fics have been revealed thus far)

"men's room" - mad men - Pete/Bob

…Pete drifted off to Kansas City with Trudy and Tammy, to a job with Learjet, prestigious and money rich, where he lived comfortably with his wife and daughter, trying to stay faithful and to be a worthy father to the little girl who almost forgot his face. But it’s not 1970 anymore. At the 1984 Olympics, Pete runs into a familiar face.

"gender reveal" - succession - Shiv & Gerri

Shiv knows what her baby is, now. She sort of wishes she didn't.

"lost" - for all mankind - Tracy/Gordo, Gordo/Ed

Gordo reflects on his two major relationships: with Tracy, long ago, and Ed, in the present.

"raven adrift" - for all mankind - Molly-centric gen

Molly contemplates the past and her possible fate during the events of "Bent Bird".

"(stay-at-home) shore leave" - star trek: deep space nine - Garak/Bashir

In the aftermath of "The Quickening," Garak tries his best to tend to Julian, with perhaps expected results.

"it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see" - star trek: deep space nine - Garak/Bashir, Kirk/Spock/McCoy

The Federation loses the Dominion War. Garak decides starting his own antiquary on Earth is "what's next".

"queen for a night" - house of the dragon - Rhaenyra/Alicent

Alicent and Rhaenyra play one of their old games, but the dynamic has changed.

"husband material" - bridgerton - Daphne/Simon

Simon tells Daphne of his truest self; and something new inside of Daphne is revealed.

"heaven be in these lips" - ancient greek lore - Andromache/Helen

Andromache intends to make Helen feel welcome to her new home; she gets more than she bargained for.

"those immediate magic missives" - lays of the hearth fire (victoria goddard) - Conju/Terec, Cliopher/Fitzroy

The Lord Emperor, his Radiancy, and Conju an Vilius exchange letters once one has left on his trip, leaving the other retired.

"the light that shines" - hunger games franchise - Mags-centric gen

Mags Flanagan wins The Hunger Games. What could possibly come next?

"girls like girls like boys do, nothing new" - succession - Gerri/Shiv, Gerri/Roman, Shiv/Roman

At Shiv's 25th birthday party, she gives Gerri a present, because Rome's not there to.

"innocence" - the fugitive - Kimble/Gerard

A few months after The Fugitive ends, Sam Gerard finds himself at the front door of Richard Kimble's new apartment, wondering what the hell he's doing.

"'free' love" - time after time (1979) - Stevenson/Wells

John Leslie Stevenson and H. G. Wells are good friends; neither truly know what the future holds, but Stevenson is amused by Wells's utopian ideal of free love, nevertheless — for good and for ill.

[grimmplacehq]

CHARACTER INFO:

Character name: Margaret "Molly" Olivia Weasley Age & Birthday: 33, October 30th Gender & Pronouns: Female, She/her Occupation: Stay at home mom Blood Status: Pureblood Previous House: Gryffindor Previous Affiliation: Order Face Claim: America Ferrera

Molly is taken by Jessi

BIOGRAPHY:

Molly Prewett was welcomed into the world on a chilly autumn evening, October 30, 1949, in a picturesque wizarding cottage nestled in the heart of the English countryside. Her birth brought an indescribable joy to Charles and Eleanor Prewett, who had longed for a child to share their magical world. Molly was not just their firstborn; she embodied their hopes and dreams.

The Prewett family name resonated throughout the wizarding world, renowned for their prodigious talent in magic, particularly in the intricate arts of charms and enchantments. Molly's father, Charles Prewett was celebrated as a Charms Master extraordinaire. His lectures at the Wizarding Academy were legendary, and his scholarly pursuits often took him to distant corners of the magical world. His knowledge and expertise in charm work were revered, making him a respected figure amongst his peers.

On the other hand, Eleanor Prewett, Molly's mother, was a skilled potion-maker whose concoctions were sought after by potionmasters and healers alike. Her delicate touch and intuitive understanding of ingredients made her a wizarding artisan, and her potions graced the shelves of apothecaries across Britain. Eleanor's love for potion-making was only surpassed by her love for her family.

From an early age, Charles and Eleanor instilled in their children a profound sense of duty, responsibility, and the unshakable importance of family bonds. Their charming cottage was always filled with the aroma of brewing potions and the whispers of incantations. Molly grew up surrounded by magical tomes, cauldrons, and enchanted objects that made their home feel like a living, breathing extension of the wizarding world.

Molly's early years were also graced by the presence of her younger twin brothers, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, born a few years after her. These rambunctious twins possessed an insatiable appetite for life and an utterly infectious penchant for mischief. Despite Molly's initial reluctance to partake in their wild escapades, she was drawn into their world of exploration and adventure.

The siblings shared an unbreakable bond that went beyond ordinary family bonds. Together, they learned the value of loyalty as they defended each other from playground bullies and imaginary creatures lurking in the woods. They discovered the importance of standing up for what was right when they uncovered a forbidden charm accidentally practiced by some older students. These shared experiences, filled with laughter, lessons, and a touch of mayhem, played a crucial role in shaping Molly's character.

In this enchanting and loving environment, Molly Prewett grew into a young witch with a heart as warm as her family's hearth and fierce as her father's most potent charms. Her journey from this idyllic childhood to becoming Molly Weasley, a central figure in the fight against the darkness that threatened the wizarding world, was one paved with love, resilience, and a commitment to the values she had learned from her extraordinary family.

Growing up in the Prewett household was not without its challenges. The First Wizarding War was on the horizon, and tensions within the wizarding world were escalating. Being well-versed in the political climate, Molly's parents taught their children the importance of fighting against dark forces and standing up for those who could not defend themselves.

Molly was filled with excitement and apprehension as she embarked on her journey to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In its wise and ancient wisdom, the Sorting Hat found her a perfect fit for Gryffindor, the House known for its courage, bravery, and chivalry values. It was within the scarlet and gold banners of Gryffindor that Molly's character continued to flourish.

Academically, Molly continued to excel, just as she had back home. Her proficiency in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts became even more apparent at Hogwarts, and she quickly earned a reputation as a student who could always be counted on to master spells with precision and courage. Her determination to protect herself and her friends was evident in her dueling skills, which she honed tirelessly during her years at the school.

Molly's kindness and welcoming demeanor made her a beloved figure among her peers. She had a unique talent for bringing people together, often organizing impromptu gatherings in the Gryffindor common room or lending a sympathetic ear to those who needed it. Her innate ability to create a sense of belonging made her the go-to person for advice and camaraderie. 

But amid the bustling life of Hogwarts, there was another aspect of Molly's identity that was slowly becoming clear to her: her sexuality. As she grew older and more self-aware, Molly realized that she was attracted to both boys and girls. This discovery came gradually as she navigated through friendships and early romantic interests. Molly found herself drawn to individuals of all genders, and her heart didn't discriminate based on gender.

During her fifth year, Molly had a particularly enlightening and heartwarming experience with a close friend, Abigail Blackwood, another fellow Gryffindor. Their friendship had always been characterized by openness and trust. Then, one evening, as they sat by the fireplace in the common room, the topic of relationships and attraction came up. Abigail, who identified as bisexual, shared her experiences and the beauty of embracing one's authentic self.

As their conversation deepened, Molly realized that her feelings for Abigail were more than friendship. They shared a connection that transcended the boundaries of gender, and it became clear that their hearts were entwined. They soon embarked on a loving and supportive relationship, which became a source of comfort and strength for both. Molly found solace in Abigail's embrace and the realization that she wasn't alone in her feelings. The acceptance and understanding she received from her friend-turned-lover made it easier for her to embrace her identity as a bisexual witch. Their relationship blossomed, creating a safe space for Molly to fully explore her emotions and desires.

From that moment on, Molly felt more comfortable with herself and her attractions. She became an advocate for acceptance and diversity within the wizarding community and a living example of love transcending societal norms. This aspect of Molly's life, her journey of self-discovery, acceptance, and the love she shared with Abigail would later inform her commitment to inclusivity and love in her role as a mother and a member of the wizarding world. It was yet another layer of her character, a testament to her capacity for empathy, her unwavering belief in embracing one's true self, and the beauty of love in all its forms.

After a year of a loving and supportive relationship with Abigail Blackwood, Molly faced a difficult truth. The intense connection they once shared began to wane, and it became apparent that their paths were diverging. It was a heart-wrenching decision, but Molly and Abigail agreed it was time to part ways. Their breakup was amicable, filled with tears and bittersweet farewells, but it was also a testament to their mutual respect for each other's journey.

During the following period, Molly leaned on her friendships for support, particularly her deep bond with Arthur Weasley. Arthur had been her best friend for years, a confidant with whom she had shared countless dreams, aspirations, and laughter. They had grown up together, faced the challenges of adolescence side by side, celebrated each other's victories, and consoled each other in times of loss.

As Molly navigated the complexities of her post-breakup emotions, she found comfort in Arthur's unwavering presence. He was not just her best friend; he was her anchor. Over time, their friendship evolved into something deeper and more profound. They discovered that their love and understanding for each other had transcended the boundaries of friendship.

One evening, under the starry skies of Hogwarts, with the scent of flowers in bloom and the magic of the wizarding world all around them, Arthur finally mustered the courage to express his feelings to Molly. He confessed that he had fallen deeply in love with her, and he had been harboring these emotions for years. Molly, touched by his sincerity and overwhelmed by her own realization that her heart had found its true match, reciprocated his feelings.

Their love story was like a phoenix rising from the ashes of past relationships, and it was as beautiful and enduring as the magic that surrounded them. Molly and Arthur Weasley became a couple, bound not only by their love for each other but also by their shared values, dreams, and the enduring friendship that laid the foundation for their love.

Shortly after Molly and Arthur Weasley officially became a couple, they graduated from Hogwarts, leaving behind the cherished halls of Gryffindor House and stepping out into the world as young adults filled with dreams and aspirations.

Molly was drawn to a career that reflected her compassionate nature and desire to impact the wizarding world positively. She decided to pursue a path in social work, focusing on working with disadvantaged children. Her determination to protect and nurture those in need was a driving force behind her decision.

As Molly dedicated herself to her studies and career, she and Arthur's love deepened. Their relationship was filled with shared laughter, dreams of the future, and countless hours spent discussing their plans. On a beautiful spring day, with the Burrow as the backdrop and their closest friends and family in attendance, Molly and Arthur exchanged vows and were married in a heartfelt ceremony.

Their marriage marked the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. Together, they faced the joys and challenges that life had in store for them. They were soon blessed with the arrival of their firstborn, Bill Weasley, who brought immeasurable joy to their lives.

Charlie, Percy, and the mischievous twins, Fred and George, followed rapidly, filling the Burrow with laughter and chaos. Molly and Arthur embraced the chaos with open hearts, raising their children with love, discipline, and the values instilled in them from their childhoods.

As the calendar flipped to January 1980, the Burrow buzzed with excitement again. Molly was expecting another addition to their already bustling household. The prospect of welcoming another child filled their hearts with anticipation and joy. Molly's nurturing nature would undoubtedly extend to this new member of their family, continuing the tradition of love and support that defined the Weasley household.

Molly and Arthur, now more in love than ever, looked forward to the adventures and challenges ahead as they prepared to welcome their sixth child into the world. With their unwavering love for each other and their dedication to their family, the Weasleys were a shining example of the power of love and unity, a beacon of hope in a world threatened by dark forces.