I’m on mobile, so I can’t coy and paste, but Courfeyrac and Feuilly for the ‘one reacting to the other crying about something’ one, please? ^_^


so after weeks of procrastinating I FINALLY got past my block of ‘this is my favorite pairing and my favorite trope OMG i have to write the perfect drabble’ and managed to write something for the prompt.  sorry about the delay!

This is sort of a spin-off of Vé @thecoffeetragedy‘s Hogwarts AU where Feuilly is a werewolf (although with the details different, I think–in this he’s only been a werewolf at all for a few months).  I hope you don’t mind me writing about your AU, it’s just a very compelling scenario and I can’t stop thinking about it!

This is also on AO3 if you’d rather read it there.

The sun was already too low in the sky to shine directly through the windows of Ravenclaw tower by the time Feuilly woke up.  Courfeyrac sat up at the first sign of him stirring, his quill and the essay he was supposedly writing falling unnoticed to the floor, and leaned forward eagerly, propping his elbows on his knees.  Feuilly’s eyelids fluttered, but it was a few more minutes before his woke up properly, blinking at his surroundings like he wasn’t quite sure where he was.

“Ravenclaw dormitory,” Courfeyrac supplied.  “You’re safe at Hogwarts, nobody found out, and it’s almost dinnertime on the first day after the full moon.”

Feuilly’s eyes fell closed and he slowly let his breath out.  Courfeyrac squeezed his hand and saw a little more of the tension slide off of his face.

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Marie Wilcox, a member of the Wukchumni tribe, wrote an entire dictionary on the language of her people.

Marie Wilcox has made preserving the Wukchumni language her mission. She has spent more than seven years working on the dictionary. The language is now being taught to tribe members at a local career centre, yet the language still struggles to gain traction and move beyond an elementary level. Through her hard work, Marie hopes that her dictionary will support the revitalisation of the Wukchumni language for future generations.

Now, Marie and her daughter teach weekly Wukchumni language classes to members of their tribe to help keep the language revitalised.

It seems like such a strange and nearly impossible concept, but by the year of 2100 most languages will be lost.

The story of Marie can be seen in a short documentary film ‘Marie’s Dictionary’, from the Global Oneness Project. : [x]


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People like her make me happy and sad at the same time; trying their darndest to prevent their culture from fading out of existence

Because she was lonely.



So, today, a woman came into our shop. It was a woman I’ve only heard my parents refer to as ‘the Deaf Lady’. My mum had told her about me, explained that I was doing Sign Language, and come to find me on a day she knew I was working.

But today, she didn’t need her lawnmower repaired. In fact, she hadn’t touched it since it had been, and as far as she knew everything was fine.

She’d come in to sign to me.

She waved hello, and instantly explained that my mum had told her I would be in today. I asked her how she was, and the smile that she had on her face was the biggest I’ve ever seen.

And we spent about an hour in my family’s little shop, talking about everything. She told me about her life, about how she’d lived in the same house for 60 years.

She’d been born deaf, and been a Brownie, but never a Guide, because of the War… she’s now 86.

She had some amazing stories to tell, and twice she cried. One of those times was remembering her youth, and the other was when she was explaining to me that her husband had died around 20 years ago, and how he’d been the last person she’d known that could communicate with her.

She’s been alone for 20 years, living in a silent world, unable to communicate with anyone for the most part. The most interaction she has is when she writes things down for people, but she’s struggled to make any recent friends, and her family is long gone.

Now someone explain to me what’s wrong with every school teaching a certain amount of Sign Language, and for colleges to offer it more freely and frequently. People should be encouraged to learn BSL, because otherwise we’re cutting ourselves off from talking to around 8 million people or so (in the UK alone).

That’s millions of people who are no less important than you are, who have their own stories to tell, and the same need for communication as anyone else on this tiny little planet.

J. cried today because it was the first time for a long time that anyone has asked her for her name, or listened to her stories.

She’s also coming back into work tomorrow, to sign with me, and help me practice. But also – because we’re only human – for the company.

Wow. Heart-warming and -breaking at the very same time!


year James Potter telling his parents about his best mate Sirius Black,
and his parents disapprove at first, because they don’t want their son
around that family. And The Potters meet eleven year old Sirius for the
first time when he floos into their living room one night calling for
James. And of course it’s midnight, and James is asleep, but his parents
aren’t and they sit down this skinny boy with the palest skin and
biggest eyes, and they ask him what he’s doing there. He tells them he
needs James, and he won’t stop crying. He repeats over and over that
he’s sorry, but his mate James said he could come if things started
getting bad again at home, and he couldn’t hold on another day.

By the time a bleary eyed James comes down the stairs in his Quaffle
 pajamas, his parents have already decided to let the other boy stay
awhile, and Sirius still can’t get all his words out, but Ms. Potter
speaks eleven year old boy pretty well, and sends James back upstairs
and puts Sirius on the sofa for the night, wondering what she’ll do in
the morning.

When she goes in to check on Sirius later, James is piled next to
him, and they’re both all elbows and knees, with their messy black hair
on the same pillow, both of them fast asleep, and she can’t help
thinking they look like they should be brothers, Sirius wearing an extra
pair of his quidditch pajamas, an arm thrown around James.