notenoughdramaaa

[notenoughdramaaa]

Happy Friday, everyone! Not sure what your weekend plans are, but how about I tempt you with two great fics? First up, I’ve got Black Velvet (Remus' Version), a Wolfstar rockstar AU where Sirius is the iconic rock singer and Remus is the journalist he falls for. I just dropped a new chapter, and the one person reading it (yes, singular) seems to be really enjoying it, so you might want to check it out!

Then there’s Barefoot Where the Gods Can See, a Jegulus fic set in Greece where two idiots slowly fall in love over the course of a sun-soaked summer. It’s got all the feels, so if you’re into that, you won’t want to miss it.

Hope you find some time to read this weekend!

[notenoughdramaaa]

If you see someone stealing in any way, shape, or form: report it. Theft breaks trust, and no one should be above the law.

It doesn't matter how justified you feel: once you decide that your personal desires override legal and moral boundaries, you begin to erode the very concept of justice. When theft goes unpunished, it sends the message that the rules don’t apply and that’s a dangerous precedent.

If you believe your need entitles you to take something that doesn’t belong to you, you're not only disregarding the law, but also the rights of others. If everyone operated that way, society would break down. Any action, no matter how harmful, could be justified under personal belief (theft, murder, rape, anything). That’s not freedom; that’s chaos. Respect for other people’s boundaries, property, and rights is what keeps society functioning.

Now, let’s talk about capitalism. Contrary to popular belief, capitalism is not designed to keep people poor. It evolved from systems of trade and thrives on competition, which, when properly regulated (again rules being respected) can lead to innovation and societal progress. Think about the internet, medical advances, or everyday technologies. These weren’t just born out of altruism they were driven by market incentives.

Yes, capitalism has flaws. It can lead to inequality, and unchecked capitalism can absolutely harm the most vulnerable. But that’s not the same as saying it’s designed to oppress. If you believe otherwise, I genuinely encourage you to take an economics class. Some people would rather drag the poor down than let the rich rise and that’s just insane.

And finally, an important clarification: justice and equality are not the same thing. People often confuse them, but they operate differently. Equality means giving everyone the same; justice means giving each person what they need based on their situation. Because people come from different backgrounds, treating everyone “equally” is inherently unjust.

We live in a society bound by laws. Whether or not you personally agree with those laws, they exist to protect everyone’s rights not just yours. Your desires do not place you above the law. Understanding justice, personal responsibility, and meritocracy is essential if we want to create a better world.

[notenoughdramaaa]

Are you fucking serious? Like her or not, J.K. Rowling is the author of the series you can’t just erase her name from her own work.

I can’t stand John Lennon. The man preached peace while reportedly abusing his wife (he beat Yoko to an abortion) and neglecting one of his sons. But I’m not out here demanding his name be removed from every great song he helped create. Art can be complicated, and so can the people behind it.

"Not liking an author doesn't give you the right to erase them from their own work. This is her intellectual property so suck it

“We should petition to remove JKRs name from the Harry potter category on ao3”

No!

You don’t get to take the easy way out!

You don’t get to pretend she has nothing to do with this space whilst the majority of people in it continue to finically support her!

We can’t get rid of her name whilst people are commenting atyd quotes on the official hp accounts!

You don’t get to pretend that every fic you write or read doesn’t contribute, in a vague round about way, to the ongoing popularity of the Hp brand.

You have to sit in the discomfort and remember and pay attention, otherwise we’ll just continue to see people thinking they’d “separate art from artist” because of their damn hcs and watching the new show “in a marauders way”.

Pretending you’ve distanced the author from fanfic doesn’t suddenly mean you have distanced her. You just want to stop having to care.

[notenoughdramaaa]

It’s official, ladies and gents: Takeout for Two and Other Things I Forgot is officially over! I just dropped the final chapter, and the cat’s out of the bag: we finally find out whether James really cheated or not.

Also, there’s a tooth-rotting new chapter of Black Velvet (Remus’ Version) it’s fluffy and it's got a nice vibe and good music as well. Plus, Chapter 4 of Barefoot Where the Gods Can See is out now too. So if you haven’t already, now’s the perfect time to dive into both fics while they’re in full swing and enjoy the ride.

[notenoughdramaaa]

[notenoughdramaaa]

Yesterday my friends came over to my apartment to hang out, and one of them had the audacity to offend Adam Sandler under my roof. I mean, okay, it’s technically not my roof, I just pay rent, but that’s beside the point.

Seriously though, how are there people who don’t like Adam Sandler? The guy is so down to earth, he clearly doesn’t care about fitting into Hollywood’s mold, and he makes great movies. I’m a huge movie fan, want to know my favorite LGBTQ+ film? It’s not Call Me by Your Name (though I love Sufjan Stevens), or Maurice, or Fried Green Tomatoes. Not even My Own Private Idaho (which is amazing, by the way Keanu Reeves is perfect in it everyone should watch it).

No, my favorite LGBTQ+ movie is actually I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry.

Yeah, that one.

It came out in 2007, back when Massachusetts was the only state where same-sex marriage was legal. And what does Adam Sandler do? He makes a movie that pokes fun at homophobia, calls out the justice system, and, best part, he does it all while speaking directly to his main audience: young, straight men who probably didn’t care about LGBTQ+ rights.

He made the gym bros think about gay marriage. He made them uncomfortable, in the best way, because that’s the brilliance of it: two straight men pretending to be gay and realizing, hey, it’s not the end of the world. Nobody dies from playing gay. That discomfort? That’s the point. The idea was to show how uncomfortable it's to pretend you're something you're not, it's as uncomfortable to them as it's to other gay kid playing straight out there.

And don’t even get me started on the ring scene, it’s my absolute favorite.

So yeah. Don't come into my house and insult my bro Adam Sandler in front of me. Just… don’t.

[notenoughdramaaa]

Untitled Draft Number 4:

The coffee’s gone cold, untouched. James sits at the window, hunched in his coat, fingers wrapped around the ceramic like it might still give him warmth.

Across the street it's Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

The brick and mortar facade hasn't changed. Still as grey, as heavy, as it was the last time he had layed eyes on the place. 

He breathes out, fogs the glass.

They were seventeen. The sun had been out for once, a rare warm day in spring. They’d been flushed from running, or maybe from laughing. James couldn’t remember what was so funny anymore, just the way Regulus’s eyes had crinkled when he smiled. That crooked little thing he did when he was trying not to.

They stood on the steps of Number Twelve, hands brushing. James leaned in without thinking, like gravity had been pulling him there all along.

The kiss was quick, a little clumsy, too eager, but Regulus had kissed him back. Soft at first, then firmer. And then he was laughing, palms against James’s chest, pushing him back.

"My mother’s going to see us," Regulus whispered, eyes wide, but he was grinning, wild and beautiful.

James, breathless and buzzing, only grinned wider. "I’ll fight her for you."

Regulus rolled his eyes, cheeks flushed. “You’re an idiot.”

“Your idiot.”

Another laugh. Another kiss. Shorter, stolen. Then the door creaked and Regulus yanked him by the sleeve, pulling him off the steps like a child caught misbehaving. James remembered how warm his hand was.

Now it’s raining. London rain. Quiet, miserable. James misses the sun, he misses his sun. 

The rain's slowed to a drizzle, tracing lazy paths down the window. James drags a hand down his face, then reaches into his coat pocket. The screen of his battered phone glows to life.

One message shows up in his screen. 

Sirius: "If you’re serious about this, here’s his number."

Below it there's a string of digits. No name. Just numbers. Cold, impersonal, like the years between them.

James stares at it.

He locks the phone. Unlocks it. He opens the message again.

Five years.

Five years since he last saw Regulus, sharp-eyed and silent, standing at the far end of a funeral chapel. He hadn’t approached. Neither had James. How could James after all that happened between the two of them? 

He closes his eyes, presses the call button before he can stop himself.

It rings.

Once.

 Twice.

 Four times.

James swallows, glancing out the window again. The black door still hasn’t moved.

 It goes into voicemail.

"You've reached Regulus Black. If you're hearing this, you know what it means. You probably know how voicemail works too, so, do what you must."

A pause. Then the beep.

James breathes in, slow. His voice is low, careful, like he's afraid to wake something sleeping.

“I’m not sure if you know it, but I’m back in town.”

He glances down at his coffee. Still cold. He pushes it away.

“I heard you still live at Number Twelve. Sirius said you’re there alone now. After your parents…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

His eyes lift to the window across the street.

“Do you remember when Sirius helped me sneak into Grimmauld Place? God. I nearly broke my leg climbing that window.”

A breath. Almost a laugh, but it dies halfway through.

“I’m looking at it now. Surprised your parents didn’t put bars on it. They really hated me, didn’t they?”

Silence stretches.

James leans his forehead against the cool glass. His voice is softer when it returns.

“But what could I have done? I was seventeen. I was stupid. I was in love.”

He lets the words settle. They feel heavier than he remembers.

Another pause. The rain’s picked up again.

“I still am.”

He closes his eyes.

“Regulus… just, listen to me Please.”

 He glances down, his coffee is cold. Everything feels still.

He clears his throat.

“Harry’s turning one next week.”

His voice is gentler now. There’s a smile in it, but the tired kind, like the sort that follows a long cry.

“He’s got Lily’s eyes. And her temper. I think he’s going to be a nightmare and a miracle all at once.”

He swallows.

“Lily’s in Italy. She won’t be at the party.”

A pause. He doesn’t offer reasons. Doesn’t need to by now everyone knows the reason. 

James leans back, eyes drawn again to the black door across the street. No light in the window. No sign of movement.

He exhales, slow.

“You know, Sirius was right.” A low, humorless laugh. “I never thought I’d say that, but... He was.”

He rubs at his jaw, fingers restless.

“He told me not to marry Lily just because of the pregnancy. Said I wasn’t over you. That I was trying to outrun something I hadn’t even begun to face.”

A beat.

“I told him he was wrong. That I could make it work. That I've loved her for years.”

His voice cracks slightly, but he keeps going.

“He was right. About all of it.”

James closes his eyes.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Not really. Not when I married her. Not when Harry was born. Not even when I left.”

He presses his thumb into the space between his eyes. Tries to find the words.

“So just... Pick up. Please. I...”

The line clicks. Voicemail full.

He stares at the phone. The screen goes dark in his hand.

Across the street, Number Twelve looms like a secret too old to share. No movement. No sign of life. The window where he once climbed in is still there, untouched.

He doesn’t move. Just watches the house like he’s waiting for a light to turn on.

[notenoughdramaaa]

obsessed with your fics black velvet had me in a chokehold any chance you’d ever do a trans regulus fic???? i feel like you’d kill it

Thank you. As for your question. The shortest answer is: no, I won’t write a trans Regulus. The longer answer requires some explanation. So I'll try to elaborate:

- First, I’m not trans myself. While I can write about many emotional experiences (feeling closeted, hurt, betrayed, exhausted from chasing perfection, in love, or rejected) because I’ve lived through them, I don’t feel equipped to authentically write from the perspective of a trans man. There’s a difference between imagining a feeling and truly understanding the lived reality behind it.

There are questions I wouldn’t know how to answer with honesty or depth, questions about the line between identity and stereotype, about what it means to discover and define a new version of yourself, about how much of that new self carries the past within it. Even more personal things like: what is it like to navigate male spaces, to feel affirmed or alienated, or to wrestle with the search of belonging? I don’t want to reduce any of that to guesswork. It deserves more than that.

There are incredible writers out there who have explored trans Regulus stories with care, insight, and lived experience. I don’t believe mine would add anything meaningful to that space if anything, I worry it would fall flat or come across as shallow or "plain."

- There’s another reason I hesitate to take this on, and it’s more complicated. I'm deeply uncomfortable with the current medical protocols being used to treat transgender children and adolescents, specifically the Dutch Protocol. I hate, and I mean it, I hate the Dutch Protocol. I don’t support the use of puberty blockers or the standard approach to hormonal treatment for young people. I think these decisions deserve more nuanced conversations and greater long-term research. Hormones should be taken in progressive and secure dosage, no one should be throwing hormones like that into your body, I don't support day after pills for the same reason. There are more efficient and secure ways of transitioning and avoiding unwanted pregnancy.

To be clear, I’m not against transitioning. I fully support trans people’s right to live as their true selves. My concern is with the medical framework we’ve built around early transition, and the lack of broader social support that should accompany it. It’s not enough to offer hormones, we need to guide, and give trans people the tools to understand how to exist within their affirmed identity in a society that still clings to gender roles. I can't expect a Regulus that grew up being taught to be a girl fitting in perfectly into a male dominated field without feeling lost, belittled or worse, people who transition need guidance, specially from a psychologist to fit those places easily.

- And Lastly: I don’t feel safe to write a failing trans character in the society we live in. I'm very much concerned about backlash. I know how easily the conversation can turn hostile, how quickly someone can be labeled as transphobic even when they’re trying to be thoughtful. I know how the internet tends to read intent, I'm sure there will be at least one person calling me a transphobe after reading this so can you imagine the type of distress I'll be on if I try to write a trans character knowing my stand on gender affirming care?

So no, I won’t write a trans Regulus. Not because I don't respect or care about trans stories, but because I do, and I don’t believe I can tell this one well, responsibly, or honestly. I hope that makes sense.

[notenoughdramaaa]

Did I just come across someone recommending my chaotic disaster child? I was having the shittiest Friday imaginable, up until now, thank you stranger on the Internet.

Also, TOF2 dropped a new chapter today, so there's that

so just saw that reposted that you'd like asks and anons so

(I don't really know what to ask so)

tell me abt the last good fic you read that you really want to talk abt

Okay no because you are so sweet!!! Hi! I don't know who you are but you've made my day thank you so much!!!!

Okay so, a good fic I really want to talk about...

I've been reading lots of sad fics lately (no mcd bc i can't handle it but still heavy on the angst) but I'm going to talk about a somewhat bittersweet one.

The fic is Take out for two and other things i forgot by NotEnoughDrama, it was inspired by this post.

It's currently 65k words, and 17/19 chapters.

Jegulus with background wolfstar.

The official summary is:

James and Regulus had the perfect love story. Until grad school. One disastrous argument sent James storming out, straight into a car accident that wiped his memory clean. Racked with guilt, Regulus erased every trace of their relationship and disappeared from James’s life.

Fast forward to James, now dating someone else, gets rushed to the hospital, only to be treated by a very familiar (and very attractive) Dr. Black. Sparks fly and now James can’t shake the feeling that he'd met the doctor before.

Regulus, meanwhile, is trying very hard to pretend he’s just some random doctor.

Spoiler: it's not going well.

I absolutely adore this fic, the way each character is portrayed, and the angst is so sweet!!!!! (Weird I know whatever)

Anyway, i absolutely recommend checking out the fic!!

[notenoughdramaaa]

Apparently J.K. Rowling posted something on X this week. My boyfriend woke me up today to show me, and asked, “What’s your opinion on it?” He’s younger than me, he knows I grew up with Harry Potter, and especially that, for a period of my life, I thought I was on the asexual spectrum.

Since I was about 12 or 13, I liked girls. I genuinely loved them. I even dated a few in high school and before leaving for college. But I had a really hard time getting excited about the idea of having sex. Usually, as soon as it came up, I’d break things off. At the time I thought I was ace or somewhere on the spectrum. But then, strangely enough, when I hit 18, those feelings just... shifted. I’m not sure why (but that’s a story for another time.)

Anyway, because I’m a long-time Harry Potter fan and I write a ton of fanfic, about Harry Potter's dead parents my boyfriend was curious about how I felt about what Rowling had posted. We talked and I figured I’d share my take here too, because why not?

I don’t care. I really don’t care what J.K. Rowling thinks or doesn’t think. It’s not out of hatred. I believe people have the right to express themselves, even when I disagree. In fact, hearing opposing views is what sparks conversations, and those conversations push society forward. Remember: there was a time when the idea of gay marriage was considered radical and "wrong" by many. And look how far we’ve come.

So no, her opinions don’t make me like Harry Potter any less. The series was a beautiful part of my childhood. It made me believe in magic, not just fantasy magic, but the kind you create yourself. It helped me discover my love for writing, and that love has never gone away. I won’t stop liking Harry Potter, and I’m not going to boycott it. I’ll continue to live my life as I always have.

Rowling can say whatever she wants, she’s allowed to. And I’m allowed not to care.

“Oh, but she’s a transphobe and bla bla bla...”

Listen, trans people are going to continue to exist whether Rowling approves it or not. They’ve existed for centuries. The hijra community, for instance, is as old as Hinduism itself. No amount of tweets can erase real people. You might argue that her posts contribute to harm or take away rights, but at the end of the day, rights are taken away by governments, not individuals tweeting. No amount of money donated to NGOs will take away anyone’s rights, only governments and policymakers have that power. I can’t stress this enough: if you’re unhappy with the state of trans rights, direct your energy toward the people truly responsible for it: your government.

Now, don’t ask me my opinion on gender-affirming care, trans athletes, or gender-neutral bathrooms, unless you’re genuinely ready for a conversation and not just looking for a reason to hate me.

That being said, I truly don’t care about J.K. Rowling’s opinions. She’s not a president or policymaker. If you hate her, you’re still welcome to read my stuff. If you don’t, you’re also welcome. Either way, I’m still here, still writing, and still finding magic in the things I love.

[notenoughdramaaa]

So, I finished Black Velvet (James' Version). It's done. I don’t know what to say because words are not wording for me today.

And if that wasn’t enough, I’ve gone ahead and dropped the first chapter of Black Velvet (Remus' Version), because who doesn’t love a good sequel, right? And as I always do with a new fic there will be a new chapter every day until Friday, because why not continue this cycle of self-destruction and unnecessary commitment?

Oh, and before I forget posted the second chapter of Barefoot Where the Gods Can See, so now there are two fics vying for your attention. Good luck with that.

TOF2 also has a new chapter. It’s... mildly good. I mean, it’s technically a chapter, and I guess it’s not a complete disaster, so there’s that. But don’t get too excited. I’m not sure how to feel about it yet, and I’m not sure I ever will.

Honestly, though, don’t talk to me today. I’m not functioning, I’m barely surviving, and if I’m being honest, I’d rather just curl up in a ball and forget all of this exists. But here we are. You get new chapters, I get existential dread. It’s a fair trade, really.

[notenoughdramaaa]

you read stuff on wattpad for shit and giggles where most of the fics there are reader-inserted ones written in 1st person pov where y/n is a barely legal white girl with blonde hair and blue “orbs” who’s so smol and fragile that she’s dependent entirely on this morally questionable guy who’s killing people for a living but for some reason happens to have a soft spot for her.

you read real actual literature on archive of our own where it’s two middle aged men, who are each other’s sworn enemies, with tragic past, trauma and strong homoerotic tension. and while they’ve made each other bleed, killed each other’s friends and loved ones out of jealousy / possessiveness, lied and betrayed and manipulated, the rawness, depth, complexity and slow burn will keep you up all night, haunt you during your day and possibly change your life forever. and also the sex isn’t just smut. the sex is poetry that puts Shakespeare to shame

[notenoughdramaaa]

I know I said I wasn’t going to start another fic. I know. But here we are, once again, in the ruins of my own restraint.

It’s called Barefoot Where the Gods Can See, which should tell you everything you need to know about how unwell these boys are. It’s set in Greece. It’s hot. It's funny.

And, brace yourself, Regulus doesn’t die in this one. I know. Growth. Healing. A sliver of mercy. I’m just as confused as you are.

If you can guess what year this fic is set before chapter 3, I will send you a king-size candy bar. No catch. Just vibes and sugar.

[notenoughdramaaa]

how i feel reading three fanfics, writing two, as well as reading two books all at the same time

[notenoughdramaaa]

Tell Them I Was the Monster

The halls were quiet, save for the faint crackle of torchlight echoing off stone walls. James adjusted his Head Boy badge absently, eyes scanning for movement. It was nearly one in the morning. He was almost done with his rounds.

Then he heard a laughter. Low, tipsy, and familiar.

James’s spine straightened. He gripped his wand tighter and turned the corner, footsteps light and quick.

There they were. Barty Crouch Jr., Evan Rosier, and, James froze, Regulus Black.

The trio stopped short when they spotted him. Barty swayed on his feet, catching himself on Evan’s shoulder before bursting into laughter.

“Well, well,” he slurred, voice loud and mocking. “Merlin’s tits, look who it is. Hogwarts’ very own moral compass. Saint Potter himself. Out past curfew? What a scandal.”

James didn’t speak. He raised his wand just slightly, jaw tight.

Evan chuckled, eyes glinting. “Bet he’s already got a detention slip pre-signed. Just needs to scribble our names down and file it under ‘morally inferior.’ Go on, Potter, make yourself useful.”

“Get back to your dorms,” James said, voice like flint.

Barty’s eyes gleamed, drunk and mean. “Why so tense, Potter? Scared Reg’s gonna embarrass you again?”

James’s stomach flipped, but Barty wasn’t done. He leaned in a little, eyes flicking between James and Regulus. “Oh, come on. He won’t write you up Reg. Wouldn’t dare touch his golden boy.”

James’s grip on his wand didn’t falter.

“Oh, don’t look so heartbroken,” Barty drawled. “What did you think, mate? That he was gonna stay your little redemption project forever?”

Evan let out a sharp laugh.

“Oh, poor Potter,” Evan said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Always so eager to fix things, aren’t you? Always thinking you can save everyone, make them into what you want them to be.”

Barty smirked, his tone casual but with a bite. “Must’ve been exhausting for him. Always having to jump through hoops, trying to win your approval. Like nothing he did was ever good enough for you.”

James felt his stomach twist, the words hitting far too close to home.

Barty grinned, a mocking glint in his eyes. “You dressed it all up like you were just being concerned, like you had his best interests at heart. But we both know it was more about you, right? About shaping him into your idea of what he should be. A perfect little Gryffindor boyfriend.”

James clenched his jaw, the words searing into him, but he didn’t speak.

Evan’s tone dropped lower, soft but cruel. “Must’ve been suffocating, the way you hovered over him. Always watching, always waiting for him to mess up. Never letting him just be.”

“Shut up!” James snapped. But his eyes were already on Regulus.

Barty leaned in, his smile sharp. “But, of course, when it didn’t go your way, you didn’t hesitate to play the wounded martyr. Poor James, who only wanted to help but got betrayed.”

“Enough,” James snapped, his voice cracking under the weight of it. “Get out of here. Now! Or you’ll be spending every night in detention until Christmas.”

Barty gave a dramatic bow. “As you wish, Head Boy.”

Barty turned, snickering as they staggered off. Evan’s laughter echoed down the corridor.

But Regulus didn’t follow. He stayed behind.

James turned sharply. “You too,” he said, trying to sound stern. But his voice wavered. “Go to your common room.”

Regulus tilted his head. “Jamie.”

James’s throat tightened. The nickname landed like a blade between his ribs.

He straightened, pulling himself taller. “Don’t,” he said. “Not now.”

“Jamie,” he said again, soft this time. Too soft.

James flinched. His jaw clenched as he swallowed back the sting. “Don’t call me that,” he said. Low. Cracked. “Not after this. Not after that shitshow.”

Regulus took a step closer, slow and unsure. “Jamie, listen...”

“No,” James bit out. “It’s past one in the morning, you are out of your common room and you reek of firewhisky. Don’t pretend you don’t. I can smell it from here.”

Regulus opened his mouth, probably to lie, to spin, but James cut him off, his voice cold and clipped.

“Save it. I don’t want to know if it was Evan's, or Barty’s idea, or your own, because then I’d have to do something about it. And you know what? I’m done wasting my breath on you. You only ever listen to those fucking friends of yours anyway.”

Regulus’s eyes narrowed, but his voice softened. “James, just let me explain...”

“I don’t want to hear it!” James snapped, finally losing the last bit of restraint in him. His voice echoed off the stone walls, raw and sharp. “You want me to understand you? That’s all I did for two fucking years, Regulus!”

Regulus’s face twisted. Anger, shame, something complicated behind those grey eyes. “You never understood me,” he shot back. “You never actually listened to me. You say I’m selfish, but look at you. You’re just as bad. We’re not so different, James, we’re...”

James stepped forward, fast, furious. His hand jabbed the air between them, finger pointed, trembling with rage inches from Regulus’s face. “No,” he growled, eyes blazing. “We’re not the same. I never treated you this shitty. I never dragged you through the mud in front of my friends. I never mocked you behind your back, made a fucking joke out of everything we had.”

His breath hitched, but his voice stayed loud, his face twisted with pain. “And I never, I never, talked shit about you. Not even to Sirius. And trust me, I had plenty of reasons.”

Regulus’s face cracked slightly, the drunken sheen on his eyes blinking away into something more fragile, more wounded.

“That shit’s embarrassing, Regulus,” James went on, tone breaking now. “You, you were my everything. And apparently, I wasn’t even something to you.” He stepped back like the words scorched him. “So don’t waste the time I don’t have. And don’t try to make me feel bad.”

He turned, his robes whipping behind him as he started to walk away, footsteps hard on the stone.

But then: “You’re not being fair.”

James froze.

His back stiffened, and for a long second, it looked like he might just keep walking. But he turned, slow and full of fury, his eyes storm-dark.

“You want to talk about fairness? Really?”

He stalked back toward Regulus, barely holding back the force of his own voice.

“Let’s talk about every single time you stood up for me in front of your friends,” he said. “Oh wait. We’d be here all night and still have a blank page.”

Regulus looked like he’d been slapped. But James wasn’t done.

“You never lifted a finger to make this easier. Never paid attention to my friends, or my mum, or anything that mattered to me. And I, Merlin, I shut them all out for you. I was a kid, Regulus. I didn’t know better. I thought loving you was enough.”

His voice trembled again, but his face was stone cold. “You ruined everything good in my life. Every good feeling I had, my relationship with Sirius, my peace, everything. And now you walk around acting like I was the problem? Like I was trying to fix you?”

His voice dropped, thick with bitter ache. “I was just trying to love you. To make you feel like you were safe. Like you were allowed to be something outside of your family, your name, your... Your stupid fucking pride.”

Regulus’s eyes glistened, but he didn’t say anything. Not fast enough.

“You always said you were misunderstood,” James hissed. “But now? Now I see you.” He let the silence stretch, heavy between them, before he said, almost a whisper: “You’re just like your parents.”

The words hit like a curse. Regulus flinched, not visibly, not dramatically, but enough. His eyes went sharp with hurt. With disbelief. With something breaking.

James saw it. He saw it, and it still wasn’t enough to stop him.

“Sirius was right.”

He stared at him for another second. Regulus opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

James shook his head. His throat worked like he wanted to say something else, but all that came was:

“Just leave me the fuck alone.”

And then he turned on his heel, his footsteps echoing down the corridor like a verdict.

Regulus didn’t follow. He didn’t say a word.

And James didn’t look back. Not even once.

[notenoughdramaaa]

This is what I’m talking about I’m constantly hunched over. I need to find a better reading position.

enough about sex positions has anyone discovered a reading position which doesn’t get uncomfortable after 5 minutes

[notenoughdramaaa]

Also every single bi in existence

barty coming to terms w his feelings for evan core