Picking up the quill

Chapter 10 of my Jegulus fic is posted! It's a little different, as it is written from Remus's POV. It allowed me to explore the background wolfstar I've been setting up for, as well as Remus as a character in this muggle AU. I had fun writing it, though it is a heavier one :( Here's a snippet for you.

"Admittedly, Remus wasn’t the archetypal Cornetto-Trilogy enjoyer. He found himself tiring of the slapstick undertones, even when wrapped in three layers of dryness. Still, when Sirius had asked about his favourite film, he’d panicked. He couldn’t exactly tell Sirius the truth. No heterosexual man would say his favourite film was Amélie (2001); and if Sirius knew Remus was attracted to men, then he would know Remus had a crush on him, and then Remus would be fucked.

Remus thought his life was fucked enough as it was.

Hot Fuzz seemed like a good middle ground between their respective tastes. It had the explosions and gore to hold Sirius’s attention, as well as the wit to stay rewatchable. Remus was secretly the sort of person who watches the same films over and over again. It felt comforting, like a warm cup of tea after a long coach ride back to Wales.

As he sipped his Earl Grey in the quiet kitchen, Remus tried hard not to notice the stiffness in Hope’s shoulders. Subtle, but undeniable. His mother didn’t usually stir soup so insistently. She’s going to say it, he thought. She’s going to ask. He was already becoming irritated and she hadn’t even opened her mouth.

“I’ve taken it,” he advanced, hoping to calm himself in the same breath. She turned her head toward him, startled. A few strands of sandy hair came loose from their bun.

“What, love?”

“The pill,” he repeated. “I took it on the bus.” 

“Oh. That’s lush,” she smiled, lifting the wooden spoon from the saucepan. “Will you call your dad down? Tea’s about ready.” 

Remus felt ten times worse. He’d gotten mad at her for nothing. He felt his blood cool in his veins in real time, replaced by a wave of lead-heavy guilt. Had the Marauders been there, they likely would have recognised the expression settling over his features. But there was no bonking stick in St Clears; only a well-meaning mum and dad, who always found themselves on the receiving end of his lash-outs.

God, he didn’t deserve any of them.

Chaper 9 of my Jegulus fic is out (chapter 8 too, in case you haven't checked it out yet <3)

~~ Here's a little preview ~~

Friday, 11:31 p.m.

James Potter: you don’t have to know how to talk to me

James Potter: we’re friends :) there’s no right or wrong way

Regulus’s thumb hovered. Twitched. Hovered again.

Saturday, 10:02 p.m.

You: that’s a matter of opinion

You: how was your day?

Immediately, the sane part of Regulus regretted asking. James would definitely think it was strange; he’d never made casual conversation like this before.

James Potter: spent it trying to convince Sirius not to buy a new pack of cigarettes 🙃 he’s literally got strep throat

James Potter: how was yours? 

Regulus suppressed a chuckle.

You: I’d advise against trying to teach my brother basic logic. 

You: You’ll fail.

James Potter: not saying you’re wrong

James Potter: however

James Potter: I’m going to keep trying

It was unfair. Regulus was smiling, and James hadn’t even done anything to cause it.

God hated Regulus. There was no other explanation.

You: because you’re a masochist?

James Potter: because I love him

James Potter: Regulus oh my god 😂😂😂😂

James Potter: i mean yeah probably

How could it be this easy?

You: I’ve been told I’m observant

James Potter: 😂 it’s ten pm, stop making me cackle

You: that sounds like a you problem

You: I’m not actively trying

James Potter: you’re a natural then

James Potter: I surrender 🏳️

James Potter: you still haven’t told me how your day was

Regulus did not go into detail. He told James it was alright, which wasn’t a lie considering he’d had far worse days than that one. James had taken a few seconds to answer, a tentative “good alright or bad alright?”; Regulus said “good”, because he had no desire to expand on it further. He didn’t want Saviour James. He wanted Boy James. Friend James.

By the time James sent a goodnight text, they’d been talking for close to thirty minutes. James had asked Regulus how he revised for Chemistry, which somehow devolved into a conversation about Sirius’s alleged-and-not-at-all-confirmed infatuation with McGonagall in year 7. The reason James had to leave was, in fact, Sirius.

Im actually writing a fanfic, a massive dream of mine untill recently because if u and ur amazing writing skills. If it were not for u I would still think that fanfics were do unattainable and undoable so for u I am eternally grateful,

Also p.s u will never know who this was, just know that this random person really looks up to u

Hiii!

First of all, thank you for your message, you’ve made my day 💜 I’m so proud of you for writing (and publishing) your first fic! Welcome to the joyous world of writing, in which literally anything is possible — the only limits being your imagination and your ability to keep up with a writing schedule (who said that)

I shall indeed never know who this was, because the person I thought this was insists that it is not them, so

Whoever you are, dear anon, love you lots

Chapter 7 of my Jegulus fic, Eggshells, is published on AO3 :D Here's an excerpt!

"James Potter: see you 🌻

That sunflower again.

Regulus needed to stop smiling. Thank fuck Barty and Evan were out cold. 

It took a while, but he fell asleep too. All the…this, had tired him out. He rolled onto his stomach, forcing himself to loosen. He was okay. It had gone well. James had accepted his apology, and now things could go back to the way they were before Cas and Barty had planted all of these ideas in his head. 

The issue being, it wasn't just his head anymore. The seeds of chaos had been planted everywhere. In the mail, with the silver rings they'd bought; on his back, with the lilies; and now his calf. The gothic window Dorcas had drawn there looked like it belonged in a museum. It almost made Regulus want a real tattoo. No one would ever see it there, not if he made sure to wear trousers. Which would be easy enough; come to think of it, he hadn’t worn shorts since he was eight.

They’d made Sirius start covering his legs to hide the bruises. Regulus didn’t have any at the time, but that hadn't mattered as much as following Sirius. As showing him he cared. Even as Regulus nodded and complied with whatever their parents said, he always hoped Sirius knew — for what little it was worth.

At breakfast on Thursday morning, James sat with his back to the Slytherin table. Regulus would have preferred not to notice; now he was wondering if it had been intentional. If it had clicked for James; if he was disgusted. He wondered until James’s gaze fell on him when the Marauders rose, his nod of acknowledgement both a balm and a brand.

Right. Later.

Sneak peak:

"Examining the pin board, Dorcas realised that Regulus had included a tattooed hand holding a battered book of poems. She gasped dramatically.

“You like tattoos?”

“Everyone likes tattoos," he pointed out. Then, preemptively: “I can’t get one.”

“Can’t get what?”

Evan had just walked into the Slytherin Common room with Barty in tow. Barty’s tie was rolled up in his hand, his chestnut hair even messier than usual — it was a wonder, really, how someone with straight hair managed this much texture. James’s hair was always sticking up, but James had waves, and Regulus was pretty sure he used a mousse.

“A tattoo,” Dorcas told Evan, yanking Regulus back to the present. “But I’m not telling you to get one. There’s so many cool things we can do. Transfers, body makeup…I could paint on you!”

Her enthusiasm fizzed, blissfully unaware of Regulus’s cost-benefit calculations. Barty was right there with her.

“Are we giving Reggie a makeover?”

“You are doing nothing, get away from me,” Regulus told him as he plopped down in the nearby sofa.

Regulus cared about Barty. He didn’t want to hurt him. But he would if he had to; the problem was Barty was scared of very little and ashamed of even less. It was almost impossible to blackmail him.

Regulus glanced sideways at Cas, his eyes widening in request for backup.

“I actually think Barty could be an asset here,” she mused, the traitor. “He’s the only one who knows how to do piercings.”

“I’m not getting a piercing.”

“No, not yet,” Dorcas agreed.

Regulus did not like the direction this was taking."

https://archiveofourown.org/works/86102081/chapters/228295636#workskin

Sneak peak:

"Sleep did not find Regulus right away. He envied Evan, who barely got through the start of an ASMR video before he started snoring. Barty came back from the bathroom soon after, teeth brushed, a placid expression on his face. None of those tricks had ever worked for Regulus. He could only stare at the ceiling and think himself into exhaustion.

At half twelve, he got desperate and picked up his phone again. He tried listening to rain sounds. Youtube decided he needed to watch a forty-minute analysis of Dead Poets Society's queer subtext.

He wanted, very badly, to grunt, but that would have woken Evan and Barty, who did not deserve it. Well. Barty deserved it for starting all of this, but there were more elegant means of vengeance, not to mention the boy was even more insufferable when he didn’t get enough sleep.

Pressing his lips together, he opened his messaging app. Selected Dorcas’s contact.

Chapter 2 of the Jegulus slow-burn is out now! In this one, we follow James as he navigates a busy Monday at Hogwarts college. Fluffy friendship dynamics and the beginning of denial for dear old Prongsy.

A fragment for your enjoyment:

"After Poppy asked them to leave, James, Sirius and Peter spent the afternoon on the grounds, savouring the last of the summer heat before mounting homework began to swallow them. They tossed a football around and accidentally landed it on the water near a miffed pair of swans.

“We’re not getting that back, are we,” James chuckled, watching as one of the birds puffed up its wings and hissed in their direction. But Sirius was already collecting an abnormally large fallen branch from the ground, dragging it over to where Peter was standing. One half had evidently been steeping in the Great Lake for some time, the bark dripping wet and covered in algae.

“Help me,” Sirius requested, though it sounded more like an order – something James had come to recognise as the Black family tone. He’d seen it on Regulus too: the flat facial expression combined with a timbre that bordered on haughty, as if they were covertly calling you a peasant. They didn’t mean it like that. It was just how their parents spoke. For the longest time, James had thought Regulus despised him, until he’d heard Orion speak to his mum on the phone."

So, a few days ago I got an idea for a Jegulus fic and enough people told me they were interested for me to sit myself down and start writing it properly! The prologue and ch.1 are now on AO3 :)

Summary: Hogwarts College is a prestigious semi-boarding school in Scotland. Regulus Black goes back to Grimmauld Place every weekend, whilst Sirius returns to the Potters’ home with their son James.

Regulus could have chosen that life three years ago. He could’ve packed his bag right then, or the first time Walburga had hit him after that. Or the time after that.

But Regulus is scared - always has been. Scared of choosing a life he might be forced to care about, after years of learning that the only safety is in numbness.

What happens when he begins to realise that numbness has dangers of its own?

[Title from Opera House - Cigarettes after sex]

thank youu! It's a random barn owl from google images, but it fits the theme :D and it looks faintly perplexed which is my constant state of being these days.