mossfordays

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Has your #1 comfort character committed a crime?

#I mean… definitely an accessory

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"ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? CAN WE BE FRIENDS??" but it's Sirius to Remus after the prank.... but it's Bellatrix to Narcissa after she tortures Alice... But it's Regulus to Sirius after he runs away..... but it's Peter to all the marauders in the afterlife.... but it's Mary to Lily after she marries James.... but it's Andromeda to Narcissa and Bellatrix after she runs away.......

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Narcissa, specifically the Marauder’s fandom take on her, makes me want to sob and I need her to be appreciated more. Just, imagine you are the third daughter of parents that only wanted sons. A flower in a sky full of stars. A flower, an object only meant to be looked upon and be pretty. You know your parents never loved you, will never love you, you who is not the long awaited son they asked for. But even still, you can’t help pushing yourself to fulfill the mold they expect from you, beautiful and perfect. But even still you receive love from your family, just in the form of your older sisters. Your eldest who tries so fiercely to protect you and your sister but is clearly starting to slip into insanity. The middle starting to slip away, finding comfort in a man who’s kind you were poisoned to hate. Still, you love them. No matter what you love them, you have so little else. The only other one you have is your baby cousin, made in the same mold as you, who you try so desperately to protect.

At Hogwarts you are expected to be a good mark on your family, prefect, ace student and quidditch player. Willing to drop it all as soon as graduation to be a wife and mother. You only let yourself break the rules once, for her, the one decision you made that goes against your family wishes, the girl whose kisses taste like powdered sugar, whose natural kindness and beauty shines like a candle in your otherwise dark life. For years you let yourself indulge it. For years you pretend. But you know it must end.

The end comes quicker than thought. Your middle sister comes to you, she’s going to elope with her own secret love, she’s going to escape the family and the rot it contains. She asks if you want to come with. You want so badly to say yes. But you have been the perfect daughter for so long, being anything else scares you. So you say no. So you close the door. So you marry the fiancée that sister left behind. So you accept it when your lover breaks up with you, unwilling to be just a mistress. So you tell yourself you’re better without her, all the while knowing you will never find love like her again. Never stop loving her. You say as much when your cousin asks you if it ever gets better, heartbroken over his own Gryffindor. But still you made your choices and well, your fiancée is…fine, as pure-blood men go. He loves you but you don’t love him, can’t ever love him but you’re ok playing your part, even if it’s never him you picture when you play it, not even on your wedding night.

Before you know it, war is at your doorstep. Your eldest, no, only sister and your husband both pledge allegiance to the Dark Lord. So does your youngest, no, only cousin. Your cousin, so young, so naive. He dies, you never find the body, he was only eighteen and you couldn’t do anything to protect him. And the only person you ever loved? Well when you first realized she was going to be fighting on the opposing side you figured she’d be ok. Her and her new husband were powerful, well respected aurors, true Gryffindors, if anybody was going to be ok it was them. You were wrong, oh so wrong. Death would have been kinder with the fate they suffered. A fate brought on by your sister. The only one you ever loved as much as the love of your life. A love now only matched by hate.

You watch as your sister is dragged off in shackles, trying to hide any expression behind an icy mask. You watch as your lover looks back at you with distant lifeless eyes, eyes that don’t recognize you. You visit as often as you can but it’s hard to get away from your duty as mother and wife, even harder to see your lover permanently near death like this. You don’t mean to, but you stop visiting as often.

You only have one thing left to hold on to now, your son. Your darling boy. As a second war fast approaches you fear for him. You saw what happened to your cousin, you fear history is doomed to repeat itself. You do everything you can, extract whatever vows are needed, you do not believe you can survive if he too is taken from you. Then the pivotal moment comes. You have no idea if your son is alive or dead, but the chosen one is lying on the ground and he tells you he’s alive. In that moment you make a choice, you lie, you lie to the most powerful man alive, you lie to a mind reader, you lie to save your son, and you never admit it to yourself but you lie to avenge your lover he stole the sanity of, your cousin he stole the life from, and your sister he stole the soul of.

When the war is over, your action lets your family escape consequences. For the first time since the war began, you find the courage to come and visit your old lover. You apologize for not visiting more, and tell her about your sons, how her son had finished what she started, how your son had done what you never could. It takes several years longer until you make a visit to a different ghost of your past, knock cautiously on the door, a door opened by your sister, a woman you haven’t seen in almost thirty years. Things are awkward at first, of course they are, she is resistant, she’s lost so much to this war and she is slow to trust again, but eventually you two are having a heart to heart over tea, apologizing to each other about old wrongs. It’s not much, but it’s a start. As for your boy, he finds comfort in, of all people, the chosen one, the boy your whole family was supposed to hate, the boy who you helped save the life of. You are glad he is happy, you saw how miserable he was during the war. But a small part of you can’t help but feel envious, that this is a happiness that you could’ve experienced, that your cousin could’ve experienced, if you had made different choices, better choices, found your voice earlier, instead of being left with just an empty shell. Still, you made those choices, had made your bed, and now you must lie in it. But, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, if you get to see your son smile, if you get to hold your grandchildren, if you get to see your sister for monthly tea, if you get to hold your old lover’s hand once in awhile and pretend for just a minute that everything turned out ok between you two.

That’s something your parents didn’t know when they named you after a daffodil, that even after a harsh cold winter, they can make a comeback.

#fuck you I just literally almost cried #also how did you get the version of Narcissa that’s in my mind #perfectly right like #most of the time when people say fannon Narcissa I’m like #it’s not gonna be the story in my head #then yours WAS and I love you for it #but also fuck that hurt

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The Marauders fandom take on Narcissa becomes an even more tragic character if you ship Drarry tbh, of “oh look, aren’t you glad your son is happy after how miserable he is during the war, look at him with his brave loving Gryffindor, I know you’re thinking of her, you see it every time you see them, of how this is what you wanted with her, that maybe in another life you found your defiance earlier, mm, that would have been nice wouldn’t it? Maybe you could’ve saved her, but all you’re left with now is an empty shell”

#no- don’t- nooo #fuck that is really sad #it gets even sadder #if you think of Narcissa as Regulus #caretaker type that loves her little cousin so much #and you ship jegulus #cause you watch your son #go through the same struggle you know so well #a Slytherin in love with his golden Gruffindoor #always a doomed story #and then it’s not #and as much as your happy for hi #it hurts #because this was stolen from both you #and your little cousin

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okay time for a cissy moodboard

#the love of my life

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Thinking about the sibling dynamics within the Marauders era- in canon and/or fanon (and the spot that's kind of in-between yknow)- thinking about Lily and Petunia and the strain magic put on there relationship and how horrible growing up without your sister at your side must've been, the wound that was punctured between them, the death of their parents, the growing pains.

Thinking about how the Marauders were all only children, barring Sirius- who had one of the most interesting sibling dynamics with his younger brother out of all of them. The younger brother who he left behind in the house that was killing them both, the younger brother who was their mother's 'good boy', the younger brother who fell onto the opposite side of the war that Sirius was fighting so hard to keep everybody he loved alive in. Sirius was Regulus' understanding of magic, Sirius was the protector- until he wasn't. And then he was the survivor and Reg was all alone. Sirius hates himself for still loving his younger brother, because he knows what side he chose- but he died before he could understand that Reg had followed in his footsteps and sacrificed his life to save them. To save the light and the magic his older brother had held, starry eyed for so long. The peace Regulus had seen in his hands and gaped at in awe, when he was young, when his brother was the closest he knew to something holy.

And the Black sisters, their cousins- one mad, one chained to a husband she didn't want and the last an escape artist just like Sirius. The girls were just as strictly disciplined as the brothers- but they were together. Sisters have to be pulled apart by the hair, nails, hips and teeth before they stop clinging to one another- but they learnt in that house how to survive alone in very different ways. Andromeda and her escapism, holding her head underwater until she can't breathe anymore and then tearing away to find air. Bellatrix and her laughter to drown out all the other noise, the cruelty that came like second nature, the constant awareness- the way she'd flinch. Narcissa, who's safety lay in discipline, back straight, chin up, no blinking. Flight, fight and freeze.

This is such a ramble it makes like zero sense but I have so many thoughts about them- AND THE WAY THAT JAMES FALLS INTO THE BROTHER ROLE SO EASILY??? I'm insane over them, sorry- anyways.

#oh my gosh comparing the black sister to flight fright and feeeze just killed ne

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honestly christianity really hit the jackpot with "jesus christ" rolling off the tongue as an expletive so well. the number one problem with fantasy settings is that whatever names you come up with to take in vain will never hit as well as "jesus christ"

#this is why I struggle with Harry Potter wizards using Merlin #not the same ring #such soft syllables #only one word #bad expletive #0/10

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YES YES YES

Mary raising Harry is actually all I think about ever.

just saw a post saying “what if rosekiller raised harry”….? some people on here will go out of their way for yet another mlm ship and neglect the marauders girls and how great and complex their relationships are, anyway mary macdonald single hardworking mother raising harry on her own

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#literally in love with her

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Ballerina mary macdonald 🩰🤍🎀

#oh my gosh I love her

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Guys does anyone have a Marlene, Peter and James childhood best friends fic?

#no but you’re so right

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just learned that a mutual of mine is pro israel (they’re now blocked) so i wanted to take the time to say that if you believe what’s happening in palestine is not a genocide than you are not welcome here. unfollow me block me whatever i don’t want you interacting with me at all

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James: Sirius, who's your favorite sibling?

Sirius: well I only have the one, so it's gotta be him.

James: Regulus, who's your favorite sibling?

Regulus: Narcissa. Definitely.

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narcissa black

#no literally

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nobody is more delusional than the marauders fandom bc how did we make up a whole fandom based off of harry potter characters that were barely mentioned?? and then choose the saddest headcanons ever??? why do we do the this to ourselves help💀

#me creating the saddest headcannons for Mary’s home life #me making Narcissas life even more devastating than it was

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I will die on the “Peter was a contributing member of the marauders and loved equally by the entire party” hill and no one can convince me otherwise.

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BABY HARRY AND LUNA!!!!

This was me just messing around with different lighting and shading and I thought they would be too cute to pass the opportunity on :))

#adorable!!!