My Favorite Poetry Books (free PDF Or Epub)

damnnnnnnn!!!!!!!!!!

bite the hand

you guys, thank you so much!!! i have been so confused abt this lately and yk google can be a bit irritating and confusing at times, so THANK YOU!! have a nice day :))

Link to full 9 page post

ooooooh my goshhhhhhhh this is the pRETTIEST!!!!!

Kinktober 2021 — Collar

Because long haired!Draco and himbo!Harry is a major mood

okkkk yessssss GO REMUS!!!!!!!! also i do get it but FUCK YOU LILY!

can not wait for part 6!!!!!!!!

The Best Worst Thing to Have Ever Happened pt. 5

read parts 1-4 here (links to part 4 but the rest are there)

AU in which Jily is still alive but Harry chooses to stay with Wolfstar and everything is worse now.

-

December 1995

James held his arms open as he saw Harry walking towards them off the Hogwarts Express, only to be left standing empty-handed, looking foolish. Like mounting your broom to try to fly, only to realize the hem of your Quidditch robe was caught in something, or your teammate was standing on it as a joke.

It felt terribly unfunny, though, watching his son fly into his best friend's arms before even acknowledging James' existence. He could see the same look plastered all over Lily’s face, trying to bite back disappointment that even after months of exchanging letters, attending Quidditch games, and spontaneous dinners in Hogsmeade as an attempt to clear muddy waters, Harry still ran straight to Sirius. Remus would’ve been next had he been waiting on the platform as well and not finishing up work at school. James got a high five. James was allowed to take Harry's trunk.

“Was the train ride okay?” James asked, trying to catch his son’s gaze that was decidedly looking anywhere but at him and Lily.

“I guess.” Harry shrugged, putting his hands into the pockets of his trousers awkwardly, “Are we going to dinner?”

“I made something special, it’s at home--”

“You mean your house,” Harry corrected him, “It’s not my home.”

“James made dinner, love, and he’s a much better cook than--” Sirius started, his hand pushing back dark hair from Harry’s forehead and out of his eyes. A gesture James wished he could do.

“We always go out when I get back though,” Harry’s voice pitched upwards, dangerously close to a whine as he looked up at Sirius in protest. As if returning to a house with a homecooked meal was a fate worse than death. James was about to open his mouth and tell Harry that they could do whatever he wanted, despite the way Lily’s expression changed at the whining their kid was doing, but Sirius bent down low to say something into Harry’s ear.

It was odd. Really.

James remembered his own father doing something similar when James was a teenager and complained in public spaces. The hand on his shoulders, a gentle but firm voice in his ear to Mind your manners, James. Your mother is just asking a question.

When Harry was born, James saw a life ahead of him, practicing how his own "very stern father" voice would sound. But not Sirius. It was strange to see his best friend be the one to quiet a teenage tantrum. Though it seemed that there hadn't been a warning at all, a smile crossing Harry's face at whatever Sirius had said.

“Really?” asked Harry, turning back to look at Sirius, the four of them walking away from the platform together, tattooed hands still on teenage shoulders.

“Yes, really.” Sirius said, and inclined his head towards James, “You can ask if you don’t believe me.”

“Sirius says the curry recipe he makes was your Mums? And you do it better? Did you make that?”

“I know you wanted it to be a surprise,” Sirius said off-handedly, and James stared in awe for a moment at his best friend. The selflessness; the what’s mine is yours, don’t question this, even after arguing for the past month and cold shoulders and colder showers and crawling his way out of a bottle that James had unintentionally put him into. Perhaps intentionally. Maybe.

“I…did, and it was,” James grinned slowly, “I don’t know about better but…I do know I have loads more recipes.”

“Cool.”

--

Harry had made up every excuse in the book to get Sirius to stay at this house-his house? New? Or temporary? Harry wasn’t sure--as long as he could. But eventually, Harry couldn’t stifle the yawns as the evening got later, and Sirius was giving him the look that meant to take himself up to bed even if James and Lily hadn’t said anything yet. Maybe that would be a benefit.

One home with a bedtime and rules about picking up his towels after he showered.

One house without those things.

Without Sirius and Remus.

Harry wasn’t sure he liked the odds of the trade-off, but let Sirius go anyway determined to be brave and stay put. Because that’s what he had to do. Because he didn’t want Sirius to get in trouble if he somehow insisted on staying the night every night at Number 12. He didn’t want to cause any more trouble than he already had, Harry pretending not to notice the way the air crackled around Remus whenever he brought James and Lily up or the way Sirius was being extra convincing about this new arrangement. Like the way Sirius used to explain maths equations with exuberance when Harry would groan at the kitchen table.

Harry groaned alone in the bedroom that was technically his but also wasn’t, after saying goodnight to James and Lily, wishing Sirius was there to convince him it wasn’t so bad, just one step at a time, Harry. The sheets weren’t as soft. There was no enchanted ceiling to look up at with constellations. There was no Remus and Sirius just downstairs in case anything happened. Not that anything did. Harry rolled around in his bed, on pillows that weren’t broken in and didn’t smell like the soap Sirius used, fighting against his racing heart in the dark.

He was fifteen.

He could do this.

He could fall asleep.

Harry squeeze his eyes shut and gripped at the blanket over his shoulders tightly.

Go to sleep, go to sleep, it’s okay.

Legs kicked under the covers in frustration at the hot tears behind closed eyes.

Stop it.

But he couldn’t, his breathing becoming irregular as he lay frozen in bed clinging to covers that weren’t his own with two people down the hall who also weren’t his. Were this Number 12 and there were worrying things in his mind keeping him from sleeping, Harry would move downstairs and climb into bed between Sirius and Remus. Remus would mumble incoherent nonsense from his slumber, but move his arm so Harry could burrow into his side; Sirius would tell him everything was okay until he could fall asleep, even if it took hours. Even if it meant Sirius didn’t sleep himself.

Harry stuck a tentative hand out to his bedside table and grabbed his mirror.

“Sirius!” he said in a hushed whisper, not wanting to alert James and Lily to the fact that he was up and calling home like a baby.

“Hey, my love,” Sirius responded.

At that was all it took.

Seeing Sirius on the other end, one of Remus’s hands on his chest, showing Harry that they were in bed together too. Hearing Sirius’s voice. Hearing my love like Harry was the most important thing in the world to him. The hot tears poured out of his eyes, Harry diving under the covers in hopes of muffling the noise.

“Oh…Harry…”

“I-I-can’t sleep, and my sheets smell different and-and-I even liked dinner! I can’t help--” Harry choked out words one by one, not sure if he was making sense or if it was just garbled together, “I’m sorry, I d-didn’t--”

“Shhh, hey, can you take a breath for me?” Sirius asked gently and Harry took a shaky inhale. “Good. Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“N-n-no.”

“Okay.”

“C-can…you just…can you just stay on the mirror? Until I’m as-asleep?” His voice was thick, his nosy running and he used the edge of the blanket to wipe his eyes.

“Of course.”

“Can you just talk?”

Sirius nodded, and Harry watched in the dark as Sirius settled against his own pillows--sheets even softer than Harry’s, always fluffed to perfection-- and pulled back the mirror so Harry could see Remus too, head not far from Sirius’s own. “Did I tell you I played a bit of a joke on one of my colleagues?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“They have some suspicion it was me, but you know, we’re all fans of a legal system here and they do say innocent until proven guilty,” Sirius told him, his voice even and calm. Harry put the mirror next to him on the pillow, muscles releasing tension as he drifted off.

--

Christmas Eve 1995

The day had been one of the best so far. James had come over to Number 12 early with Harry to help make Christmas dinner, including the countless cookies that had become tradition.

“Can I help?” James had asked

“Yeah but you get the snowflake apron, the reindeer are mine,” Harry responded, throwing a pale blue, frilly apron across the room at James who just laughed, eagerly coming to the counter. Lily arrived much later, Sirius halfway listening to her and Remus in the other room. Harry bounced between all of them, teasing James about the mess he made and his clumsiness in the kitchen, moving into the sitting room to tell Remus about a book he had just started with Lily. It was something that resembled peace. Family. Just a group of people united by love.

It was the first day Sirius had felt like he had James back; the one with the bright smile and unfailing optimism; the one who made Sirius laugh until he couldn’t breathe, this time with the added benefit of Harry joining in; the one who wasn’t interested in competing with Sirius and was just happy to be together. Christmas had always been the best day of the year to James and Sirius had been trying to capture all of the joy James and the Potters had given Sirius for the past fifteen years, hoping that would be adequate compensation for Harry.

It had been so nice. Until…it wasn’t.

“Where’s Harry?” Lily asked, some point after dinner, coming to find Sirius in the kitchen where was cleaning up, away from The Weasley children, and the guests still in his home. James was at the table pretending to help, though he and Remus were more content to make more mess, dropping sweet wrappers onto the floor. Flashbacks of his best friends dropping their socks on the floor of the dormitory. “I can’t seem to find him?”

“Oh, he’s outside with Cedric…” Sirius said absently.

“With his boyfriend?”

“Yes?”

“That’s…a little inappropriate don’t you think?” and Sirius turned to face the redhead from where he had been putting wrappers into the bin. She was looking to James for support, and Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“He’s fifteen…I don’t think it’s inappropriate for him to go snog his boyfriend, no.”

“Alone? Unsupervised?”

“You would rather supervise the snogging? Bit weird, Lils,” Sirius attempted a joke to avoid the argument. He just wanted one day. Remus was already gripping the table, prepared to see this through even if Sirius put a stop to it. His husband had the patience of a saint, and it was being tested nearly every day, Sirius moving moment to moment wondering when it would finally tip and Remus would unravel.

“No, I think it’s inappropriate for him to be alone with his boyfriend when we’re supposed to be spending time as a family, and he has guests over.” Lily crossed her arms, “Who knows what they’re doing out there.”

“Snogging.” Remus told her so Sirius didn’t have to, “He’ll probably be back in fifteen minutes or so.”

“Well, I--”

“You are more than welcome to go find him, Lily,” Sirius flicked his wrist to magically start the dishes, leaning against the counter, and he watched as Lily stuttered. James and Lily hadn’t had to do any of the hard things yet. Sirius had been stepping in despite Remus’s voice telling him to stop saving the day, let them lie in the mess they made. Sirius was learning to be better, especially if Harry wasn’t going to be hurt by it. If Harry wanted to stay up late because a bedtime hadn’t been enforced? Fine, James and Lily could navigate the rough waters of an overtired teenager; if Harry didn’t pick up the bathroom or do his holiday schoolwork? That was on them. Sirius couldn’t help but roll his eyes when Lily made no move to follow up on her desire to go find Harry and interrupt the snogging, even though he knew that was going to irritate her, and James was going to get upset that Sirius was being rude to his wife. A snowball effect, rolling down a hill, ruining an otherwise good day.

“It’s your house, I don’t want to--”

Sirius laughed, “I don’t have a problem with it. You do. You can go find him, but you don’t get to use me to go do the dirty work. You don’t get to pick and choose the parts of being a parent.”

--

January 1996

Harry had come into the world and Lily could look at the tiny bundle in her arms and pick out the parts that were James and the parts that were her. As he grew, she continued to play the game--hair that came from James, eyes from Lily; curiosity from Lily, an easy sense of humor from James, baby Harry giggling at everything under the sun--until she couldn’t play it anymore.

She had imagined how it would be when he got even older, and Lily hoped to see her husband's kindness, and athleticism; she imagined looking over one day at an older version of Harry and seeing herself in the way he moved his hands or asked questions.

But she didn’t. Those images vanished and no matter how hard she tried, Lily couldn’t find any parts of her and James in their son aside from physical appearance, the fifteen-year-old in the bedroom down the hall could’ve been just another kid on the street he was so different than what she imagined.

Instead, she looked at Harry, sitting for breakfast, and saw Sirius. She saw Sirius in the way Harry held himself up straight and tall at the table, with his napkin in his lap, dripping with manners that Lily had never been taught or would have even thought to teach her child; in the way Harry asked where are the salad forks? When going to set the table. James laughed but Lily had felt so embarrassed that their home didn’t differentiate. She heard Sirius in the way Harry laughed, loud and unapologetically. She saw Remus too, in the way Harry found scraps to use as bookmarks, and the way Harry took his tea. There was Remus in the way Harry spoke with his friends or talked about school work. And Lily hated it. And she hated herself for hating it.

It wasn’t supposed to be that way.

Every second she looked at Harry, was another step backward. Her son slipping away into someone that wasn’t equal parts her and James. Especially when Harry returned from a trip to Diagon Alley, shopping bags in hand and Sirius in tow, a wide grin on her son's face that was only ever seen when Sirius or Remus was present. The conversations she had with Harry only feature one-word answers or shrugs of shoulders, neither of them sure what to say.

“Where’s James?” asked Harry immediately, and Lily pretended it didn’t hurt that her husband wasn’t Dad. In fact, Sirius was Dad, her son peppering in the name throughout dinner time conversations or deliberately in front of them when making requests. To prove a point. Because according to Remus, Harry only had used Dad on rare occasions until this month. Lily hated that too.

Dad, can you hang this up for me?

Dad’s working until late, did he tell you about the court case?

“Dad got me new gloves for seeking and a snitch to practice with! It can be spelled for the wards and do a bunch of stuff!”

“He’s actually out back right now trying to magic our outdoor floo, I’m sure he’d love to…” Lily trailed off Harry running sock footed down the hall to reach the backdoor where James was, leaving the other bags with Sirius and Remus. “What’s all this?”

“Bit of shopping.”

“He just got plenty of gifts for Christmas, Sirius.” When Sirius explained they usually went back to school shopping with Harry and asked if Lily and James wanted to come, Lily didn’t anticipate them returning with so many bags. Maybe some books. Perhaps some school supplies. Certainly not new seeking gloves and a practice snitch. “When you said back to school shopping, I didn’t think it included buying out Quality Quidditch Supplies.”

“I…didn’t,” Sirius spoke slowly, “I told you we went shopping, Lily.”

“What’d you buy him?”

“Some fun Quidditch things…I don’t know, a new pair of shoes, a new bag for his books? What’s it matter?”

“Did he need new shoes? We could have bought him some.”

“No, he didn’t need--”

“He has plenty, Sirius, you are spoiling him!” Lily exclaimed and she could feel Sirius wave his arm to cast a silencing charm around them.

Sirius’s grey eyes went wide at her statement before he laughed, “Lily, you’re being--”

“He didn’t need a new bag, or new shoes. He’s fifteen, not going to business meetings, and--”

“This is about shoes?”

“He's grown up thinking he can have everything he wants!”

“Because he can,” Sirius told her without hesitation and Lily’s vision clouded with nothing but red.

“And also has grown up with an arrogance to match yours,” she spat, watching the remark land in Sirius’ body language. As if shouting at Sirius, breaking down his proud posture would help her stand a little taller; as if that would bring her son closer to her. Because her son moved like Sirius in the world with a quiet confidence in his upbringing that Lily also never had. Harry had gone to a posh, private muggle school before Hogwarts; Harry arrived every term with shiny new shoes for his robes and a new bag for his books; Lily had returned every year with the same bag that was patched and patched with whatever fabric her father had lying around. Lily would look at Sirius and James with contempt and she hated herself for looking at her son in the same way.

It was easier to hate Sirius.

She would’ve hated Remus too if he was standing there and not recovering from a full moon.

“Have we met the same kid?” Sirius asked, “I’m not going to apologize for making sure Harry knows who he is in this world. Don’t confuse that with arrogance just because it comes with a fucking bag, Lily.”

“It’s not just the bag, Sirius! It’s all the gifts and the parties and the fact that he went to a private school and--”

“You’re being ridiculous. Of all the stupid things…I’m not going to apologize for sending my kid--”

“He’s not your kid! And it seems like you didn’t even bother once to think about what James and I would’ve wanted for him!”

If you were going to take down Goliath, and all you had was a pebble, you wound up as many times as you could.

Lily wound up, he’s not your kid, echoing in the room, ringing in both their ears. She regretted it the second it fell from her mouth but she couldn’t take it back. The letters and words and sounds were lying there on the floor between them. She watched as Sirius dropped the shopping bags on the ground, looking at her with his jaw set. She could see the way he swallowed, and the way grey eyes had become so cold and distant. The way Sirius got when he wanted to protect himself from more hurt, like all the time she had seen Sirius at thirteen and fourteen walking to meet his parents on the platform.

“I feel sorry for you,” Sirius told her evenly, voice low as the silencing charm was broken, “That…you are so angry with me, for making bad decisions, that…you’re not able to see how great of a kid you have.”

--

Remus made himself believe that Sirius’s odd behavior was because he missed Harry. Spending an afternoon with him and then not being able to bring him home was surely the root of Sirius’s distance and the way he had to pause mid-sentence to compose himself, seemingly on the verge of tears. But then Sirius brought a tea tray up to their bedroom where Remus had been recovering most of the day, except to move to take a hot bath, and Sirius’s hands were shaking so badly, it spilled everywhere.

Sirius didn’t spill.

Sirius certainly didn’t cry over spills. Except for one time first year when he spilled an inkpot on accident in Transfiguration and had started shaking so bad, he was asked if he needed the hospital wing. Afraid of what was going to come, though nothing did.

But Sirius stood in their bedroom, sobbing with a tray in hand, liquid spilling onto their carpet just as quickly as tears came out of his husband's eyes. Full moon aches and pains could be cured, this needed more attention, and Remus stood up from bed, levitating the tray out of Sirius’s hands and onto the dresser. Remus’s arms went around Sirius’s body to the best of his ability, not able to take Sirius’s weight as well as he usually did, the two of them landing on the ground together.

One hand at the back of Sirius’s head while he cried into his shoulder, not speaking English when asked for an explanation. Kissing Sirius’s dark curls was all Remus could do until calm settled over. Just incoherent, garbled French and tears that soaked through Remus’s sweatshirt. The one he had put on today because it belonged to Sirius and having him close was the best thing when recovering from a transformation.

“Baby?” asked Remus gently into the side of Sirius’s head, “Did something happen?”

Sirius didn’t cry when he was upset, not if he could help it, though these past six months had Remus questioning everything. Sirius teared up when he was happy--Remus loved seeing those tears when he was so touched that he was rendered speechless, like when Remus and Harry had thrown Sirius a surprise party after completing his legal coursework; or their wedding day when vows had turned into Sirius staring at Remus with tears in his eyes for ten minutes. They said enough. But upset was different. This was different and Remus had an all-consuming feeling he knew exactly what had caused them.

Sirius’s hands fisted into the sweatshirt, but he didn’t lift his head. Remus hadn’t moved his arms. “I thought we did alright. By Harry. I really thought we did alright.”

“Sirius, we did.”

“He-he’s happy?”

“He’s a happy kid, baby. We did alright by him, why--”

“I’ve been feeling so guilty, all the time, that we just didn’t do enough. And I'm not enough for him and I couldn’t do enough ever for him as a kid because…” Sirius choked out, inhaling slowly, “I really thought we took them into consideration, I…we did the best we could, right?”

“Who told you we didn’t?”

.

Sirius didn’t attempt to stop Remus from flooing over to the Potters' home unannounced. Remus said he was going and Sirius nodded, eyes red-rimmed, hands still shaking as he laid in bed. Remus’s bones were aching, he had a tension headache and all the potions he took earlier that day were wearing off. The second round was supposed to happen but his husband crying on the floor took priority.

His kid took priority.

Remus could handle broken bones, he had been managing those since he was seven. Blood didn’t bother him, unflinching when Harry had fallen off his bike as a toddler or had been in the hospital wing from a Quidditch injury. A broken home? That was a different story.

He landed in the sitting room, Lily, James, and Harry all gathered together. James and Harry were in the middle of a game of wizards chess, Lily watching with earnest.

“Moony!” James and Harry greeted together, identical grins on their faces. It would’ve been cute, it would’ve been a mental snapshot to save for later had Remus not been so furious. The water that had been on a simmer was now a full boil, bubbling rapidly, determined to burn everything in sight.

"Are you feeling better?" James asked.

“Harry, go to your room,” Remus said immediately, not bothering with a greeting, “Pack a bag. Don’t leave until I come and get you.”

“What? Why, I--”

“Don’t argue with me, do as I say, please,” Remus wasn’t looking at Harry, his eyes fixated on Lily who was standing, James oblivious from his spot on the floor, but Remus’s tone was enough. The stern tone he used with his class. The one that was quiet and calm and deadly that Harry listened to without hesitation. Remus waited until he heard Harry’s bedroom door shut, casting a silencing charm. “How fucking dare you? Where the fuck do you get off telling Sirius any of that?”

“Remus--”

“No! I don’t give a damn what you actually have to say because you were way out of line. You’ve been dead for fifteen fucking years Lily! Both of you! Do you think either of us expected to have a kid at 21 after barely surviving a fucking war and you somehow find it in you to critique the choices we made? WE, made mind you?” Shouted Remus, “Do you know how many fucking parenting books Sirius read? We have THREE SHELVES IN OUR FUCKING LIBRARY FULL OF THEM. Or how many Healer appointments we made because neither of us were sure what was normal and Harry cried for a month after you died. Did you know that? And when he finally stopped, Sirius was convinced something was wrong? But it just turns out that he was happy again and it took fifteen bloody Healer appointments to connect that!”

“What is going on?” asked James again, his voice now hinting at concern over confusion.

“What’s going on is both of you have acted selfishly this entire fucking time and I am done with it. He was concerned about what you would think and what you would want every step of the way. Me? I didn’t fucking care, I couldn’t have cared less what you thought because you were dead and we were all Harry had. Sirius was the one who put his life on hold so he could stay at home with Harry; Sirius was the one who decided we should buy a big fucking Christmas tree every year and host dinners because that’s something you would’ve done. That’s all he considered for years and--”

“We would’ve never--”

“Get off your fucking high horse, Lily! This is about money? This about Harry having nice things? Or Merlin forbid Harry have thoughts and opinions that are different than yours? But yeah, sure, lets blame it on Sirius! Even though he is the only reason you even have time with Harry right now because I wanted to go to court. And we both know damn well how that would’ve ended. Do you really think the ministry would’ve sided with you? Are you that fucking delusional?”

“What is going on?” James asked for the third time, now standing between Remus and Lily, watching as sparks crackled in the air, trying to diffuse a situation he knew nothing about.

“I’m taking Harry home, is what’s going on. And you can talk to your wife as to why. I’ll let you know if I decide to let him come back. Because I can make decisions without Sirius, and with Sirius and contrary to what you might think.”

“I didn’t mean, that you--”

“I picked the ruddy school Harry went to, out of all the ones we looked at. Because it had an after-school art program. Did you know he likes to draw? And paint?”

“....I…no.”

“I didn’t think so.”

what if, zendaya broke the 4th wall and stared straight at the camera asking if we were okay, when THAT HAPPENED!?

It’s truly fucking wild that a) Harry is canonically obsessed with Malfoy and literally follows him around and loses interest in his favourite hobbies because of it, b) Harry is actually right about all his Malfoy theories because he KNOWS Malfoy better than the others and has been paying attention to Malfoy for YEARS in a way no-one else has been, c) Draco straight up refuses to confirm Harry’s identity at the Manor even as his parents practically beg him to and despite knowing the retribution he’ll face if Voldemort finds out, d) Harry specifically saves Draco (not Goyle) from the fire despite the extreme risk of remaining in the room any longer, e) like I’m so serious this is SO INSANE Draco RIDES ON HARRY’S BROOM BEHIND HIM he has his ARMS AROUND HIM they are SHARING A BROOM AS HARRY SAVES HIS LIFE Draco is clinging to him THIS IS A LOVE STORY you can’t make this shit up!!!! f) and it’s DRACO’S WAND that Harry ultimately needs in order to SAVE THE WORLD, and Draco’s wand responds just as well to Harry as the wand of one of his closest, longterm best friends.

this shit sucks!!! but thanks guys it was SUPER helpful!!!!!!!

hey so protip if you have abusive parents and need to get around the house as quietly as possible, stay close to furniture and other heavy stuff because the floor is settled there and it’s less likely to creak

lavh-lay!!!!!!!

*body slams j*r and reclaims these 5 as my own*

!!!!

on my knees BEGGING for dorlene ff recs cause ever since i’ve caught up on thtf i’ve been craving a fix

ngl i am also on my knees begging 🤧 i have not yet found like a longer multi ch dorlene fic that i personally vibe with so if anyone has recs please send them my way!! in the meantime here are my favorite dorlene single ch fics/oneshots

Hey Dorcas by moonymoment on ao3 (@blurryayse)

14k words, beautifully written friends to lovers fic that follows marlene + dorcas at hogwarts slowly growing together and falling in love. v sweet and good if you want a happy ending!!

let the ghosts sleep tonight by outlaw_baby on ao3 (if anyone happens to know whether they have a tumblr pls lmk so i can tag them!)

7k words, gut-wrenchingly poetic fic about dorcas and marlene getting together during the first wizarding war. rewired my brain chemistry but super heavy on the angst

As The Light Disperses by blanketed_in_stars on ao3 (@blanketed-in-stars)

4k words, following dorcas and marlene’s relationship during the first wizarding war. also beautifully written, also very heavy on the angst

marlene mckinnon is not a coward. by AllThisAndLoveTooWillRuinUs on ao3 (@wishingitwerewolfstar)

6k words, also following marlene and dorcas during the first wizarding war so there is once again plenty of angst but this one has a slightly happier ending 💕

sweet as rot by vaindumbass on ao3 (again, if anyone happens to know their tumblr pls lmk!!)

7.3k words, au where dorcas and marlene are the ones to kill peter and go to azkaban instead of sirius. super super heavy angst but i love the writing it cracked me like an egg and scrambled me in a pan

‘81 by an anonymous ao3 user

4.7k words, au where marlene survived the war but everything else stayed the same, so it’s not dorlene so much as marlene figuring out how to move on after dorcas’s death which…yeah heavy angst once again lol (but beautifully written, of course 💕)

Sinner

I’m too loud for god. too gay. too lustful. too woman. too human.

Today is a holy night.

My mother sits and prays her night away in hopes of a better year.

I’ve been in my bed for two weeks.

drowning in work,

so suffocated in my sadness I cannot get to it.

But my drowning is normal.

My lust is silent.

And as long as my legs are covered and my hands are unseen, as long as my pain remains hidden under the sheer black bandages that are draped over my shoulders, no one will care.

My bones are hollowed, my organs emptied, my hair has fallen victim to the hunger. 

So god, will you take me?

Spare me your bullshit and let me die.

let me rest.

I was begged to pray today, to spend the night reading and pleading. 

Well, this is it. This is me pleading, this is my prayer.

I write this as I sin. I write this as I dream of the pleasure of a woman’s touch. As I dream of a queer love, a new love, a lustful love. But you should know that, you made me carry this love, then you punished me for it.

Yes, I am a sinner, I proudly choose hell, I choose its fumes, its pain, its heat. and I would do it again, and again, and again.

Because I write this as I sin. I write this as I fantasise about the sound of an ocean enveloping me or a rope hugging me into my final dream. I write this as I feel the peace of death comforting me because I know that her kiss makes me dirty.

I welcome its filth.