blackestfaery

for sapphic sakura week day one, soulmates. naturally i had to draw sakura with her actual soulmate, ino 💜❤️

timelapse under cut

We're excited to announce the first ever Sapphic Sakura Week, taking place from July 13th through July 19th. Below the cut, you'll find the event rules and a list of prompts!

had baby oct. 22; so exhausted

sense of time lost; one boob always out

It's finally completed... this beautiful, beautiful artwork completed by the @kumeramen herself! If I knew how to use tumblr better, I would be spamming this post with that Patrick gif saying "LOOK AT IT! LOOK AT IT!!!" because oh my god, LOOK AT THIS BEAUTY!!!

The lighting!! The pose!! Their heated expressions! The way they're pressed together like this! It's everything I could have hoped for!

NEW FIC! NEW FIC! NEW FIC!

Look, this is... definitely not my usual writing. Mind the warnings. It's 100% self-indulgent and not everyone's cup of tea, and I'm okay with that. But for me, it needed to be written, and beyond that, it took so. much. discipline. to write the entire thing. As in, almost a year has gone into this story, because I wanted to see if I could do it. And I fuckin' did!

A special thank you to J (lastontheboat) for taking a chance on a random chick who asked for a beta on the HP Cest Fest discord when the server was crickets last summer. Your encouragement and eye for detail made this fic all the more special.

Series: Harry Potter Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Ginny Weasley, (minor) Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley Rating: E CW/TW: Incest, Brother/Sister Incest, Porn With Plot, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat (full tag list on AO3)

Charlie's expecting a week of eating and drinking when he comes home for Ginny's 17th birthday. He gets all that with a large helping of heartache.

Or: Charlie helps Ginny navigate her feelings for Harry and, in the process, develops his own.

He’s reached cruising speed, and the view stretches endlessly in all directions, lined in gold by the sun making its daily climb in the sky. But it’s wasted on him. He’s flying aimlessly, eyes open but unfocused, seeing the creep of a blush up a long throat and remembering a madly hammering pulse. The memory is so vivid that he feels a tightening low in his belly in response. Charlie swears and pulls himself low over his broom handle, urging it forward and up. Condensation collects in his hair and eyelashes, the air whipping against his face like angry hands.

Charlie pauses their walk as his mind wanders. He imagines a dim interior, low ceilings, and a hum of conversation all around him. The floors are sticky, the room uncomfortably warm with the press of bodies. There's hardly any room to move, but he pushes his way through the crowd to where she sits, spinning her glass on the counter. Her hair has darkened to wine in the anemic light, brown eyes huge and hinting at secrets. Lush, pink lips stretch into a welcoming smile. Her fingers play at his belt, tugging at the strap.

To his mum’s delight, Charlie volunteers to de-gnome the yard. It’s an exercise in futility, he thinks, since everyone knows their dad has a fondness for the little squatters. He tosses a particularly feisty one over the hedges and pauses to mop his discarded shirt over the back of his neck. It’s a cloudy day, the wind on the cooler side, but he’s warmed up enough from working. He’s stripped down to only jeans and boots; sweat wanders down the valley of his spine.

By tacit agreement, they ignore each other. Charlie’s content with the arrangement as it requires the least amount of effort on his part, and frankly, Ginny’s shit at playing nice.

And there it is. The question Charlie’s half-inclined to leave unresolved, because he doesn’t know how to answer it. There’s the answer he wants to give (and he’s almost sure it’s the one Ginny wants to hear), but looming over their heads is the right, unselfish one. The one where they go their separate ways. Where, in the lull of a hot afternoon or in the quiet of the night, they pull their memories out to relive this one week. 

*****

LAST CHAPTER! LAST CHAPTER!! LAST CHAPTER!!!

It was actually posted back in July. I'm just shit with updating my tumblr regularly.

What a ride this has been. I can't believe I did it!

NEW FIC! NEW FIC! NEW FIC!

Look, this is... definitely not my usual writing. Mind the warnings. It's 100% self-indulgent and not everyone's cup of tea, and I'm okay with that. But for me, it needed to be written, and beyond that, it took so. much. discipline. to write the entire thing. As in, almost a year has gone into this story, because I wanted to see if I could do it. And I fuckin' did!

A special thank you to J (lastontheboat) for taking a chance on a random chick who asked for a beta on the HP Cest Fest discord when the server was crickets last summer. Your encouragement and eye for detail made this fic all the more special.

Series: Harry Potter Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Ginny Weasley, (minor) Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley Rating: E CW/TW: Incest, Brother/Sister Incest, Porn With Plot, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat (full tag list on AO3)

Charlie's expecting a week of eating and drinking when he comes home for Ginny's 17th birthday. He gets all that with a large helping of heartache.

Or: Charlie helps Ginny navigate her feelings for Harry and, in the process, develops his own.

He’s reached cruising speed, and the view stretches endlessly in all directions, lined in gold by the sun making its daily climb in the sky. But it’s wasted on him. He’s flying aimlessly, eyes open but unfocused, seeing the creep of a blush up a long throat and remembering a madly hammering pulse. The memory is so vivid that he feels a tightening low in his belly in response. Charlie swears and pulls himself low over his broom handle, urging it forward and up. Condensation collects in his hair and eyelashes, the air whipping against his face like angry hands.

Charlie pauses their walk as his mind wanders. He imagines a dim interior, low ceilings, and a hum of conversation all around him. The floors are sticky, the room uncomfortably warm with the press of bodies. There's hardly any room to move, but he pushes his way through the crowd to where she sits, spinning her glass on the counter. Her hair has darkened to wine in the anemic light, brown eyes huge and hinting at secrets. Lush, pink lips stretch into a welcoming smile. Her fingers play at his belt, tugging at the strap.

To his mum’s delight, Charlie volunteers to de-gnome the yard. It’s an exercise in futility, he thinks, since everyone knows their dad has a fondness for the little squatters. He tosses a particularly feisty one over the hedges and pauses to mop his discarded shirt over the back of his neck. It’s a cloudy day, the wind on the cooler side, but he’s warmed up enough from working. He’s stripped down to only jeans and boots; sweat wanders down the valley of his spine.

By tacit agreement, they ignore each other. Charlie’s content with the arrangement as it requires the least amount of effort on his part, and frankly, Ginny’s shit at playing nice.

NEW FIC! NEW FIC! NEW FIC!

Look, this is... definitely not my usual writing. Mind the warnings. It's 100% self-indulgent and not everyone's cup of tea, and I'm okay with that. But for me, it needed to be written, and beyond that, it took so. much. discipline. to write the entire thing. As in, almost a year has gone into this story, because I wanted to see if I could do it. And I fuckin' did!

A special thank you to J (lastontheboat) for taking a chance on a random chick who asked for a beta on the HP Cest Fest discord when the server was crickets last summer. Your encouragement and eye for detail made this fic all the more special.

Series: Harry Potter Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Ginny Weasley, (minor) Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley Rating: E CW/TW: Incest, Brother/Sister Incest, Porn With Plot, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat (full tag list on AO3)

Charlie's expecting a week of eating and drinking when he comes home for Ginny's 17th birthday. He gets all that with a large helping of heartache.

Or: Charlie helps Ginny navigate her feelings for Harry and, in the process, develops his own.

He’s reached cruising speed, and the view stretches endlessly in all directions, lined in gold by the sun making its daily climb in the sky. But it’s wasted on him. He’s flying aimlessly, eyes open but unfocused, seeing the creep of a blush up a long throat and remembering a madly hammering pulse. The memory is so vivid that he feels a tightening low in his belly in response. Charlie swears and pulls himself low over his broom handle, urging it forward and up. Condensation collects in his hair and eyelashes, the air whipping against his face like angry hands.

Charlie pauses their walk as his mind wanders. He imagines a dim interior, low ceilings, and a hum of conversation all around him. The floors are sticky, the room uncomfortably warm with the press of bodies. There's hardly any room to move, but he pushes his way through the crowd to where she sits, spinning her glass on the counter. Her hair has darkened to wine in the anemic light, brown eyes huge and hinting at secrets. Lush, pink lips stretch into a welcoming smile. Her fingers play at his belt, tugging at the strap.

To his mum’s delight, Charlie volunteers to de-gnome the yard. It’s an exercise in futility, he thinks, since everyone knows their dad has a fondness for the little squatters. He tosses a particularly feisty one over the hedges and pauses to mop his discarded shirt over the back of his neck. It’s a cloudy day, the wind on the cooler side, but he’s warmed up enough from working. He’s stripped down to only jeans and boots; sweat wanders down the valley of his spine.