Latest Posts by scatteredbeans - Page 3

Vera Pavlova, A Weight on My Back (tr. Steven Seymour)

Mostly poetry with some fun spine details. Latest commission

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this poem lives rent free in my mind

i'm all the people i've ever loved

loseness lines over time by olivia de recat, @i-wrotethisforme, Kaveh Akbar, Olivie Blake

i want to gorge on my wolfstar daily consumption but I cant :(

When will my husband (Ao3) return from war (is up again)

Goncharov score masterpost

I want to make a post to keep track of all the Goncharov score that’s been uploaded to tumblr, so I will link to all the one’s I’ve found so far and update with any new ones that come up (if you know any I’m missing please share the link!)

Main Theme uploaded by @caramiaaddio

Main Theme (End Titles) uploaded by @if-only-angels-could-prevail

Main Theme (Reprise) uploaded by @raccoonfink

The Bridge Breaks uploaded by @nicewizard

The Clocktower uploaded by @dungeonmastersconsortium

Farewell Scene uploaded by @levuna (pointed out to me by @graduatedpillowmonster, thank you!)

Tempus Fugit - “Clock Theme” uploaded by @trupowieszcz  (pointed out to me by @graduatedpillowmonster, thank you!)

Goncharov Theme in Minor uploaded by @mapplejuice  (pointed out to me by @graduatedpillowmonster, thank you!)

Katya’s Leitmotif (Vinyl Rip) uploaded by @unscharf-an-den-raendern  (pointed out to me by @graduatedpillowmonster, thank you!)

Andrey’s Theme uploaded by @the-frosty-mac (pointed out to me by @muzic4sewerratz , thank you!)

It Is True (Extract) uploaded by @hex-of-els (pointed out to me by @graduatedpillowmonster, thank you!)

Memories Of Water - Goncharov Soundtrack uploaded by @rismrus (pointed out to me by themself– please do feel free to toot your own horn!)

Katya’s Sonata uploaded by @arcanistvysoren

“For My Love” Andrey’s Serenade uploaded by @shits-getting-weird (pointed out to me by themself)

Stolen Time uploaded by @avatar-of-the-vast (I lost track of who pointed this one out to me I’m sorry but my notifications at the moment are A Lot, so thank you to whoever it was and I’m sorry I don’t know who you were)

Sharing A Dance uploaded by @the-frosty-mac (pointed out to me by themself)

In The Boathouse uploaded by @madame-karenina

What Was And Will Be uploaded by @piano-flute​

Overture on the Clocktower uploaded by @dead-minecraft-fandoms​ (pointed out to me by @mccoppinscrapyard, thank you!)

Privyet Goncharov uploaded by @rismrus (pointed out to me by themself)

Goncharov’s Gun uploaded by @netcup

Sofia’s Serenade to Katya, from the deleted scene in the boat where she sings “Come Raggio di Sol,” uploaded by @melongumi

Dockside #2, one of the unreleased tracks, uploaded by @reptilemodernism

Unnamed Fragment from Goncharov’s death scene, uploaded by @quizshow1994

Bonus:

Cover of the song Goncharov (2010) by @idiopathicsmile  (pointed out to me by @graduatedpillowmonster, thank you!)

At Goncharov’s Gate (PC Version), song written for the PC game with a Super NES port released in 1994 for PC-DOS, uploaded by @badgraph1csghost (pointed out to me by @graduatedpillowmonster, thank you!)

One of the official trailers was recently recovered by @talkshowhost1996

it's the levels of scrutiny too.

a movie that has a largely-female cast has to be well-written, well-shot, well-acted, well-advertised. people will spend 2 hours on youtube talking about a single plot hole; about a moment of bad pacing, about a singular background character's poor scripting. if there isn't something obvious, they will say - well there's nothing specifically bad, but it wasn't specifically good either.

they will turn out another all-male movie, and it's just a movie.

a book that has queer representation in it has to defy every convention of writing while also being true to traditional plot, structure, format, and pacing. it must have no boring chapters, no missteps, no awkward dialogue. it must be able to "prove" that any queer relationship "makes sense", their sparks must fly off the page and their love must be eternal. the writing must be clear and beautiful, the storyline original and fresh, the values traditional but with an undercurrent that is modern and saucy.

they will turn out another book without queer rep, where a man and woman just-fall-in-love, and it's just a book.

i am latinx. i am queer. i am nb & neurodivergent. my father said to me once: you will need to be exceptional to be just-as-good, and you will need to be beyond exceptional before they see you as just-a-person, and not your labels.

i am not beyond exceptional. i am a human person. i am skilled because i worked my ass off to be skilled.

i am currently reading a book that's so-bad-it's-good about a girl that falls in love with a vampire. i was 64% of the way through the book before she figures out tall-dark-fanged is not natural. i like books like these, i like letting myself relax while i just enjoy the read. but i do spend a lot of time wondering - would this have been published if it was about queer people? would this have gotten past the editors if the characters weren't white and sexy?

i want to write a movie about being a woman in a male space, and i want to start that movie with a 10 minute scene where the woman is lectured with the exact same whining that occurs in the youtube comments of even the trailers for those movies: "haven't we had enough diversity?" "we've had enough girl power movies" "sorry, this is just pandering. it's boring."

here's what's fucked up: it shouldn't matter, you're right. my identity shouldn't fold after my name like a battalion of stars: a cry of what i've gone through. what we all know i had to move past and through. i should just be a writer, plain and simple, without my work being shifted through with tweezers - i know everything i make, always, i am incredibly responsible for. beholden to. i don't like knowing that if i fuck up, i am also fucking up for every person like me. every person in a community i belong to.

once, back in undergrad, i wrote a short story about a girl who had been kicked by a horse. it was my first time writing about my experience with my ocd; i felt proud of it. the story was mostly about grief and slow recovery. the queerness of the main character was not important to the plot, my main character was just-queer. there wasn't even a romantic interest in it.

i remember one of my classmates being disappointed. "i just feel like you always write about girls who like girls, and i'm bored of it," he said. "you're a beautiful writer, but i'm like - oh, at some point, it's gonna be gay again." during the workshop, he folded his hands over my story and said, "and okay, i'm just going to say it. she's ocd, she's gay, she's depressed - it's a little much for me to believe is all happening to one person."

it is a little much to be that person (and more besides). i have therapy weekly, after all.

over and over, belonging to exception.

Hi🥹 I loved the new chapter and I’m so pumped you’re posting again!! I took a long break from fic and the wolfstar warehouse is no longer a thing I guess lmao - do you happen to have any current author recs? I follow you on ao3 and love the emails!!! but I don’t follow any other active writers and now of course I’m addicted again but I don’t know where to go! I’m starting all over again searching tags 😂 do you/ does anybody else have any suggestions for me?

Hello friend ☺️ thank you so much!! I will rec ANYTHING by @squintclover @therealrjlupin @blitheringmcgonagall @theresthesnitch @greyeyedmonster-18 @elder-millennial-trash @fuckboyregulus @wolfpants @aqua-myosotis @neondomino @fantismal @krethes @impishtubist @mabeltothknows and these are my friends so I might be a bit biased, but I stand by the fact that they are all phenomenal authors and anything they produce is going to be genius, I guarantee it.

If I'm being honest, I try not to read a lot of fic, because I have an irrational fear that I'll accidentally steal someone else's plot or trope or wording and I would hate myself.

But if anyone wants to jump in and make some recs, you're certainly welcome to and I would appreciate it!

“you’re on your own, kid” is remus coded, “anti-hero” is regulus coded, “would’ve, could’ve, should’ve” is wolfstar coded, “the great war” is the battle of hogwarts coded, “labyrinth” is dorlene coded

taylor swift is one of us you guys every evidence is on the table.

Okay fuck it if this post reaches 666k notes by the end of 2023 I'll practise basic self care

Why 666k? Because it's funny and impossible so good fucking luck

A quite autumn morning, golden and silent.

They wish it would last forever.

The universe said no

But as stubborn as they are

They met in every lifetime every universe

Just for another quite morning beside each other.

This is the first Audio Post I’ve posted, but I felt really strongly about this poem written by Pencap, it’s so gorgeous and full of emotion that I felt I would do my best to bring it to life. Thank you for giving me permission to post it as well!

Rest in peace, Robbie Coltrane 30 March 1950 – 14 October 2022

Ok everyone but imagine Todd and Neil do have to separate for college and for some reason have no other way to communicate with each other aside from ✨letters✨

Neil constantly writing letters to Todd between classes or filling his notebooks with doodles and thinks he wants to send and say, puts tiny cute little stickers in with the letters, is blunt but gushing and just a total sap and hates how long it takes to get a letter from Todd. He has a SPECIAL PEN for letters for Todd and ONLY letters for TODD and Todd ONLY. No one touch his pen for Todd he WILL yell at you and his insults are painfully accurate, creative and one might even say…. Shakespearean.

Todd on the other hand would always be overthinking what to say. After classes he would just sit there for hours into the night thinking, scrawling then crumpling up and throwing away. The poor kid could probably deforest the entire continent of North America with how many times he crumpled up drafts. Puts in pressed flowers with the letters, struggles with words and expressing things when not in poetry form but he’s trying his best.

Years later, when they’re old and grey and going through their things to find out what to keep and what to give away (as old people often do) they stumble across a pair of wooden boxes, each with each other’s names on them somewhere. They open them and unearth their letters from college, the paper beginning to yellow with age and antiquity, the ink having turned from black to brown and beginning to bleed around the edges. The look at each other, smile, and laugh.

“After all these years you still kept all of my horrendous excuses for love letters..?” Todd asks.

“They weren’t horrendous! Plus.. eh, I’ve always resorted to reading them when I’m down or needing some extra encouragement.” Neil answers, with a shrug, voice sounding similar to a winter fire as the snow drifts down outside, warm yet crackling every so often with age. “Plus, you kept mine too so you’re one to talk.”

The Queer Symbolism of Dead Poets Society

that’s right y’all i actually did it. tw/cw for mentions of Neil’s death, homophobia, reclaiming queer

Dead Poets Society; a beloved, slightly problematic staple of dark academic films. Since its release in 1989, it has gained a strong following over the years, and even more speculation. Fans of the film have long believed that the central characters, Todd and Neil, were in love. Furthermore, there are theories that not only were the main characters lovers, but major plotlines and themes possess metaphors of queerness. Debate has been made over the reality of these theories, and it’s pretty believable. This essay has no intention to change any thoughts on the matter, more like reading into the content and considering what the general opinion is. 

Anyone who has seen the movie or even read a brief summary should be aware of the major theme of the story; tradition versus nonconformity. Mr. Keating made a point to challenge tradition, which, considering the patriarchal, conservative setting, was quite risky. It’s almost like queer people have been challenging tradition for centuries. ‘Tradition,’ or heteronormativity, against the ‘nonconventional’ is instead celebrated. The Dead Poets Society was all about defiance from societal norms and living authentically, in other words not having to hide.

“We all have a great need for acceptance, but you must trust that your beliefs are your own, unique, even though others may think them odd or unpopular. Even though the herd may go ‘that’s bad.’” - Keating

Deviating from tradition not only takes form in the Dead Poets Society being revived, but in the confrontation of supposed gender roles. A deep passion for theatre is connected with homosexuals and has roots in queer culture since at least the early 20th century, from the author’s knowledge. The group had taken a keen interest in poetry, as well being long associated with femininity or homosexuality, by reasons of toxic masculinity. With harmful intentions or not, poetry is still a staple of queer culture. Infamous queer poets like Sappho, Emily Dickinson, Oscar Wilde, and Walt Whitman have been influential in their works since the sixth century. Walt Whitman specifically is mentioned many times in this film. One of his more well-known poems, “Oh Captain, My Captain” is referenced various times. Out of all the poems to choose, why go with the poem written by a hypothesized gay man about a president who also may have been gay? To add to this, during the scene in which Todd chases Neil around while the latter reads his poetry, Neil has the gall to say “I’m being chased by Walt Whitman.” As if that scene wasn’t already one of their more emotionally charged moments that lead to this essay’s creation.

That is not where the references to queer culture stops. During the audience’s first introduction to English teacher John Keating, he is whistling the tune of ‘1812 Overture,’ composed by notoriously homosexual composer Tchaikovsky. In the cave, Charlie Dalton recites a line from Shakespeare’s ‘Sonnet 18,’ famously written about a feminine man, recognizable from the line: “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” That sonnet created much skepticism over Shakespeare’s sexuality and some consider him to have been queer.

The thing with queer people indulging in these interests are both fine points in the queer identity and culture, as well as stereotypes against queer people in that aspect. What a fun time.

The symbolism and references are not the only evidence of this being a queer movie. There are the characters themselves. Most frequently discussed, is the case of Neil and Todd. Although Todd is new to the school and riddled with anxiety, he ends up quite close to Neil. Did it help that they were roommates? Certainly, but there is quite a bit more to it than that. Neil had developed the habit of being in Todd’s space quickly, and Todd got rather comfortable with Neil by the time the play auditions rolled around. Even more, Neil is very frequently seen looking at Todd in a way that friends don’t typically do. When Todd performed the improvised poem for the class, it had cut to Neil, looking positively enamored at Todd. The aforementioned Walt Whitman reference to Todd is to be taken into consideration as well. Todd’s reaction to Neil’s death too made quite the difference. It is normal to mourn for a lost friend, but was there a reason to show Todd in such a state of despair? Charlie had known Neil much longer, yet all seen in the final film, Todd showed the most aggravated grief. Yes, in the original script, Charlie had had a grieving moment, but why keep Todd’s? It might have been for character development, or it could have been much, much more personal.

Because of the fandom’s hope for canonical queer characters, former cast member Gale Hansen has graciously supplied some answers via Twitter on several occasions. He has said that he ships Todd and Neil and confirmed that Charlie could’ve been portrayed as nonbinary. 

Besides the many references, metaphors, and instances of symbolism, there is still one more area that needs to be covered; the relation between the Dead Poets Society and being a queer person. Considering a very queer individual is writing this, this part may get a little long and personal. Throughout the film, Neil feels the worst pressure to conform to the life his father wants for him and struggles with it immensely. He feels hopeless and drained from every short conversation with his father, and it did end up killing him slowly. He despaired over who he was. He knew what he was, he enjoyed who he was, but faced criticism over being himself. Neil’s father hated the parts of Neil he couldn’t control and suppressed his son’s identity. Seeing Neil on stage was a turning part in the movie, as if Mr. Perry is seeing his son for the first time how he really is. He wasn’t hiding, he was out. 

Yes, it is quite true that people just couldn’t live if their passion was taken away for a bleak existence. That could’ve been the case for Neil. Or, as this whole thing is about finding how this film mirrors queerness, he could not live knowing that he would be despised by his own father. It might just be the queer existence at it’s saddest state, but it certainly is understandable. 

Taking in all of the reasons why this movie could be a piece of inexplicably queer media, there is just the fact that it might not be. It’s subjective some look at it and think ‘yeah, they are definitely gay’ whereas someone else might not look at it that way. This essay was just a way of proving some points, really. I analyzed the content based on my own view and took my thoughts into account. Keating did say that the reader’s opinion is one that matters.

All I want is to be in a queer coded chaotically unhinged group of friends reading poetry in a cave in the middle of the night. Is that too much to ask?

do you think neil ever snuck into todd’s bed at night whenever they couldn’t sleep and asked him to read him his poetry and neil would be so touched by what he’d hear but couldn’t put it into words so he instead just kissed todd in the darkness and solitude of their room like do you think that ever happened

this is so important

(a snippet from the same unpublished raising harry AU except make it wolfstar for all of you who have been suffering through shitposts, have a treat for sticking around <3)

context: sirius and harry relocate to grimmauld place.

-

“Are you sure you’re going to be--”

“Ask me that one more time, Remus,” Sirius said harsher than he intended.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright here?”

“Arse.”

Remus gave him a wry grin over his glass of wine, lips already stained berry from the glass he had before, looking perfectly relaxed on the opposite end of the couch from Sirius. “Still haven’t answered the question.”

“I’m not sure I have an answer.”

Remus clicked his tongue, “You always have an answer. An opinion. It’s one of my favorite things about you, even if it is frustrating.”

“Am I frustrating you?”

“Every second since I met you,” he said, and Sirius opened his mouth, Remus holding up a finger immediately before Sirius could say a single word, “And before you respond with something clever regarding your time prison, no the 12 years there were not any sort of reprieve. Every time I thought I had gotten rid of the traces of you….one more would appear. Dog hair on my clothes, a neatly folded sweater, one year I even found an old letter you wrote me from hols when we were fifteen.”

“Well at least I know I won’t have to become a ghost to haunt you when I die…” Sirius mused, giving Remus a wink before taking a sip of his own wine. 

“...Are you going to be alright here?” Remus asked for the third time, and Sirius actually laughed, watching as Remus’s smile split his face wide open and suddenly Sirius was fifteen again, sitting across the Gryffindor common room with a quiet, golden boy who had the best barbs tucked away behind books and big sweaters. 

Sirius laughed quietly, looking up at the mantle where the ticking clock was. Sirius missed the stained glass windows already and the handsome emerald green clock and the soft beige rug that was in the sitting room at his home by the seaside. And then he thought of Harry’s smile when they arrived that day, trunks in hand, Harry rushing to the backyard to go flying, leaving his trunk in the middle of the hall.

It annoyed Sirius that Harry did that at first, because trunks didn’t belong in the middle of walkways and Sirius had told him to bring it up to the bedroom he had chosen the last time they had come together. Harry had blindly chosen a bedroom then as well, waving Sirius away with his hand and just nodding along, more interested in the backyard and his firebolt. 

It annoyed Sirius, and then…it didn’t.

It was so normal. As if Harry had been leaving his things around and Sirius had been getting mildly irritated for their whole lives. 

He thought of Harry’s messy hair and flushed cheeks when he finally came inside after Sirius had called him for dinner twice. Remus had come over to help them settle in, so had Andromeda, Sirius offering dinner in exchange, the table that Sirius had eaten lonely meals at just a few months ago feeling much bigger. 

“I think so,” is what Sirius settled on.

“Were you thinking that entire time?”

“Oi!”

“It was a long pause, thought you had fallen asleep.”

“I believe that’s your modus operandi, Moony,” Sirius said so easily, the nickname fizzling into the air like smoke after a firework. “Remus,” he corrected when he realized his fumble. Remus. 

“I can be Moony…I…missed being Moony.” Remus cleared his throat, “I missed you.”

“Remus…”

“I can’t tell you that? I can’t tell you how I missed you? And even though the dog hair on my clothes and the sweaters and the stupid notes you used to write me were frustrating to find…they also made me miss you? Can I not tell you I thought about you every day for almost 13 years?”

“You can tell me whatever you’d like,” Sirius said, “And I’ll tell you I did the same except it’s not quite so endearing or sentimental. Because what else was I supposed to think about? You were my…you were going to be my fiancee and you didn’t even try….”

“I’m sorry.”

“I…I know.”

“Then--”

“I’m not at forgiveness yet, Remus.” Moony. Whoever you are. “I’d really like to be, but I’m not.”

“I should go.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t get there.”

“You think you will? You think one day you’ll be able to look at me and want me again?”

“I want you right now. It’s not a question of want.”

Remus put down his wine glass on the end table, shifting on the couch so he was closer to Sirius, no longer on opposite ends of the couch--of the world. On the same page, in the same proximity for the first time since that night in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. The lights were dim, the clock ticked on the mantle as Remus’s knee touched Sirius’s. Amber eyes scanned his face looking for any type of sign and Sirius closed his eyes.

Moony.

“Can I hold you?” Sirius opened his eyes. “...Can I hold you?”

He breathed in deeply, already watching Remus’s hands between them, itching to touch Sirius. Sirius’s hands were longing to do the same. 

Remus was all scratchy cardigans and half-shaven face. Bumps and bruises, and Sirius remembered running his hands over every part of Remus entranced by the indentations of scar tissue and raised freckles. Nothing about Remus was smooth. Clever, but lacking social charm. Knew how to clear a room. Knew precisely the wrong thing to say at the wrong time. But their relationship had been. 

Against all odds, Sirius and Remus, Moony and Padfoot, my love and my darling, had been the smoothest course Sirius had ever sailed. 

“Can I hold you?” Remus asked one more time, even softer, his face moving closer.

“....the only thing I can think of to say is your name. Every version of it.”

“Yes…no…” Remus offered, “maybe…in a few hours…just for a second…”

“That’s a lot of options.”

“Yes or no, then.”

Yes.

Yes.

Hold me. Please. Remind me of what it was like to give my burdens to someone else to carry just for a little while.

“Yes.” 

Remus moved slowly, daring to touch Sirius’s hands first, then his wrists, thumb caressing his pulse point while long fingers skimmed over tattoos and the dark hair on his arms again. Sirius sat still, inhaling and exhaling deeply, afraid Remus was going to make him come undone with the most innocent of touches. Remus’s hands moved up to his arms and Sirius continued to fight with lingering resolve. 

It wasn’t passion, though.

No.

Not like when they were seventeen and they would take turns edging each other into madness with wanton looks in the hallway and hands in places they definitely shouldn’t have been in the middle of class, and kisses that always left someone begging for more. Or even when they were nineteen and finding intimacy in learning how to fix a leaking sink and a tiny shower that really couldn’t fit the two of them properly, but they insisted on being in there together anyway. Sirius would have to hold Remus’s arm when they got out of the shower, so much excess water on the linoleum flooring, taking care not to let his boyfriend-fiance-nearly husband slip. 

The one thing Sirius always handled with care…was Remus, and now it seemed like it was the opposite. Not that Sirius asked for it, or explicitly told Remus that.

This Remus now though, this thirty-something Remus was feeling every valley and curve of Sirius’s arms, then shoulders, moving closer until their faces were mere centimeters apart. 

Sirius inhaled.

Remus exhaled.

Sirius and Remus. One name it was always said so fast and together- SiriusandRemus, carved into trees, etched into pavement, signed on leases and wedding certificates that never came to be.

!!!!

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 💕)

(teenagers are so fucking wild and change so much in such a short period of time sometimes

and in some universe sirius probably dropped harry off at the platform a whole head shorter with a cracking voice and awkward limbs and bony shoulders and then picked him up in december to see a completely different kid, who now sounded like James and LOOKED more like the James Sirius remembered and teared up for no reason at all.

--

Sirius wrapped his arms around Harry, realizing that this time he wasnt able to rest his chin ontop of his godsons head. He had to adjust his arms, and was caught off guard by the sheer force of Harrys embrace. Less limbs and knobby elbows; more muscle and confidence in his movements. Harry stood differently now too, less hunched over. Prouder, perhaps.

Sirius pulled away unable to form a sentence, settling for looking at Harry and the way round glasses were no longer too big for his face and the way his sideburns were growing out. The traces of peach fuzz on his chin. He could feel the tears prick the back of his eyes.

"Did Moony confund you or something? Did you try to limit his coffee intake again?" Harry asked, tilting his head in confusion.

"Hm?"

"Why are you being so weird?"

"Just missed you, kid." Sirius said, bending to take Harrys trunk but Harry stopped him.

"I've got it, I'm not sure I trust you to carry anything right now with your fuzzy brain--" Harry turned to Remus with a cheeky grin, "I think we should take our chances and have you drive."

"Oi! I am perfectly fine," Sirius said throwing an arm around Harrys shoulder and jostling him. "Did they add a class on "sassing your godfather" to the curriculum?"

"Yes, actually, Harrys got top marks," Remus teased, but caught Sirius's eyes around Harrys head. Remus and Harry were nearly each others heights.

"And in Defense too," Harry chimed in, looking at Sirius, "Did you get my last essay? I sent it to you, I even did better than Hermione. Can you carry this for me? I might've changed my mind."

And there it was.

The other half of the equation. A deeper voice that asked if Sirius still put his good marks on the board in the kitchen. Still checking to make sure Sirius was proud of him, and wrote every week, and called on the mirror on Wednesdays. Still wanted Sirius to take his trunk, and drive them back to Number 12.

Still his baby.

Just taller.)

squishy squishy fluff yay!

Someone suggested this one would be cute for use on Harry, and it would be, but my mind went a different route with it. But Harry’s still here, of course. Because he’s just too precious. 

was that a yawn?

Remus drops down on the bed beside Sirius with heavy, legless intent. More like crumbles, really, but Sirius refrains from commenting. He’s just opening his mouth to say something, possibly ask a question or maybe even a solid quip – he’s never sure until it happens – when Remus’ face splits into an impossibly wide yawn, eyes crinkling beautifully at their corners, nose scrunching just enough. His arms stretch up over his head, flexing outwards, fingers extending like they’re reaching to touch the moon. Sirius becomes briefly lost in watching the muscles of his bare shoulders shift and tighten before he shakes himself clear.

“Sorry, was that a yawn?”

Remus glowers up at him without any true heat. “Shut up,” he grumbles moodily, lowering his arms and cross them tightly over his chest. “Four stories, Sirius. Four. And then he was still wide awake. I’m knackered. More than knackered. I am dead.”

Keep reading

I just remembered my second Pride, where I made different flag themed daisy chain bracelets/necklaces to hand out. I need folks to understand something:

They were free.

They were fucking free.

They were maybe ¢60 of acrylic yarn each at the most, and the whole ziploc bag of them took 2 hours max.

Three people gave me sad eyes until I took their money.

Someone who was clearly the mom friend of their group made me take a $5 and gave a 10 minute pep talk.

At least four more people insisted on getting change to pay for the, once again, free bracelets.

In spite of all these shenanigans, the absolute best was this one person who I can only describe as, “queer surfer dude who looks like a boyfriend who looks like a girlfriend.” I can remember nothing of the outfit, only the impeccable vibes. I did the same thing I did with everyone else, explaining the bracelets were free, and they nodded along as they took the last 6 strand rainbow bracelet. As soon as they had it on their wrist, they pointed at something over my shoulder and, like a fool, I looked.

Next thing I know, they’re running off cackling, yelling, “YOU’LL NEVER CATCH ME!” and I’m holding a fucking $20. I had to stop at least two people from chasing them, cause they thought the person stole something, and then they tried to give me money cause they thought it was funny seeing me flail over people being Too Nice.

That was the year I got reverse-robbed at Pride. I hope everyone out there is having a good time and, in particular, that queer surfer dude is out there still causing benevolent chaos.

kids remind me, often, of the things i've taught myself out of.

i have a big dog. he looks like a deer. he is taller than most young children. while we were on a trail the other day, a boy coming our direction saw us and froze. he took a step back and said: "i'm feeling nervous. your - your dog is kind of big."

goblin and i both stopped walking immediately. "he is kind of a big dog," i admitted. "he's called a greyhound. they are gentle but they are pretty tall, which is kind of scary, you're right. their legs are so long because they are made for running fast. i am sorry we scared you. would you like us to stand still while you move past us, or would you feel more safe in your body if we move and you stay still?'

"oh. i didn't know that about - greyhounds. i think i ... i want to stay still," he said. at this point, his adult had caught up to us. "i'm nervous about the dog," he told her, "so i'm - i'm gonna stay still." she didn't argue. she didn't make fun of him. she just smiled at him and at me and held his hand while goblin and i, with as wide of a berth as we could make, crept our way through.

behind us, i heard him exhale a deep breath and kind of laugh - "he was really big, huh? she said it's because greyhounds have to go fast."

"he was big," she said. "i understand why that could have made you a little scared."

"yeah. next time i - next time do you think i could maybe ask to touch him? when - i mean, next time, maybe, if i'm not nervous."

later, going to a work event, in the big city, i stood outside, trembling. my social anxiety as a caught bird in my chest. i took a deep breath and turned to my coworker. she's not even really my friend yet. i told her: "i feel nervous about this. i am not used to meeting new people, ever since covid."

she laughed, but not in a mean way. she said she was nervous too. she reached her hand out and held mine, and we both took another deep breath and walked in like that, interlinked. a few people asked us - together? - and i told the truth: i feel nervous, and she's helping. over and over i watched people relax too, admitting i feel really kind of shy lately actually, thank you for saying that.

the next time i go to an event, and i feel a little scared, i ask right away: wanna hold hands? this feels a little dangerous. i hesitate less. i don't hide it as much. i watch for other people who are also nervous and say - it's kinda hard, huh?

i know, logically, i'm not good at asking for help. but i am also not good at noticing when i need help. i've trained myself out of asking completely, but i've also trained myself to never accept my own fears or excuses. i have trained myself to tamp down every anxiety and just-push-through. i don't know what i'm protecting myself from - just that i never think to admit it to anyone.

but every person on earth occasionally needs comfort. every person on earth occasionally needs connection. many of us were taught independence is the same thing as never needing anything.

each of us should have had an adult who heard - i feel nervous and held our hand and asked us how we could be helped to feel safe. no judgement, and no chiding. many of us did not. many of us were punished for the ways that we seemed "weak".

but here is something: i am an adult now. and i get nervous a lot, actually. and if you are an adult and you are feeling a little nervous - come talk to me. we can hold hands and figure out what will help us feel safe in our bodies. and maybe, next time, if we're brave, we can pet the dog that's passing.

holy mother of shit-

I THOUGHT IT WAS EMMA CORRIN AT FIRST-

Jodie Foster photographed by a classmate at Yale University; 1984

having a quiet life is so.. underrated. i don’t mean it in the sense that people who’re open and loud and busy aren’t important, but when our culture has significantly put so much emphasis on the definition of success as fame, extraordinary accomplishments, greatness and importance and excessive wealth, i think there is so much power to be found in our own anonymity. in the silence of life. in not being constantly perceived, analyzed and performing for the world. in being able to take a walk, smile at strangers and just notice the world without all that noise. taking the biggest pleasure out of the smallest joys, like a cup of coffee or blowing out birthday candles. knowing that our lives don’t have to be a grand spectacle for others in order to have worth and cause a good impact.

Get To Know You Tag Game

Tagged by: @weighty-ghosts <33

Rules: tag the people you’d like to get to know better by playing the game!

Three ships: wolfstar (Remus x Sirius), first prince (Alex x Henry), drarry (Draco x Harry)

First ever ship: wolfstar, surprisingly (and luckily) enough i got into this entire fandom with ATYD (yes that WAS my first ever fic <33)

Last song: laughing on the outside by Bernadette Carroll

Last film: Maurice (1987)

Currently reading: re-reading song of achilles cuz I like pain when its not my own :)

Currently consuming: cOffEe

Tagging: whoever comes across this leeteel thing :)

“Honestly, I’m having a proper full-on GAY PANIC.”

- Nick Nelson, Heartstopper by @aliceoseman

Here’s my celebratory take on these beloved besties. I AM SO READY FOR THIS SHOW TO AIR TOMORROW! 🥰