#Harry Apps

[keenenthusiastinfluencer]

It took me a disturbingly long time to recognise who this is

[appleslightning]

exposure therapy by @pl0tty

[troythecatfish]

[stil-lindigo]

reverb in an empty hall.

prints (all proceeds go towards aid for Gaza)

[artiststarme]

Eddie and Steve only break up once. It’s not because of a fight or a disagreement. There’s nothing nefarious about it but it isn’t quite a mutual decision either.

They break up at Steve’s request for a night so he can properly commiserate with Robin about being single.

He felt like he can’t accurately discuss her feelings and feels badly about giving her advice that he can’t even fathom anymore, not since falling in love with Eddie. As her bestest friend and the co-owner of their shared brain cell, he decides to fully support Robin by being single with her for a night.

He plans on going to gay bars with her, hyping her up as the best single wingman he could be, and commiserating the impossible dating scene with her. That’s not quite what happens though.

Instead of having a fun night out on the town as single queers in the big city, Steve spends the night wrapped up in Robins arms under a fluffy blanket on the couch wailing about not being loved anymore and Eddie breaking up with him.

Robin very much thinks it’s real, very much hates Eddie for approximately 14 hours for breaking Steve’s heart and comforts Steve to the best of her ability. She even watches sucky rom-coms with him and listens to Tears for Fears on repeat.

They cuddle together on the small couch in their apartment, loving each other and scolding Eddie in solidarity. Robin spews words of anger towards the dumbass metalhead that decided to break her best friend’s heart so callously on a random Friday night. And for no reason as well! Blasphemous in her mind.

She stews quietly all night and much more loudly when she and Steve are awoken to Eddie bringing them coffee and waffles from their favorite cafe down the street.

When she finds out that they only broke up for the night and it was very much not real, Robin is absolutely furious and makes them take her to a Blondie concert in revenge. It’s the least they can do after stressing her out so much in just one night. Deep down though, she’s happy it wasn’t real because she can see how happy they are together, if not the stupidest people she knows.

[mo0ns-and-stars]

Saw something like this on tiktok the other day and can we make a tinder but for ppl in the maurauders fandom? I feel like that would solve all my dating issues, like I don't care about what you work but wich marauder do you kin? What is your favorite ship? Your favourite moment in canon? Are we looking for a Wolfstar Jegulus or Jily kind of relationship?

[orchideous-nox]

You best believe that no matter how angry at each other Barty and Evan are after a fight, they are still fucking before bed. It just has a little more spice than usual.

[moldyfloorbords]

hdb's cool new party trick

[pop-punklouis]

harry’s chat gpt ass impersonal post. not surprised but jarring considering someone died and his other band mates posted deeply personal things.

how much of an absolute loser do you have to be to judge someone’s grief and how they respond to that grief? he lost someone he had a deep connection with— deep ties to. how dare you come in here thinking you know better about how someone grieves publicly and if it’s “worthy” enough to pass whatever “green light” check you seem to have.

it’s unbelievable some of you think harry or any of the other boys owe you shit. someone he grew up with died. someone he loved died. sorry that even in the face of mourning you cannot get your head out of your ass long enough to think something other than the tired narrative of “harry styles super villian.” grow up.

[doodleholic]

[aerostaticsurrender]

The Satellite Rank in a World With No Space Travel

I’ve wondered for a while about the reason the word “satellite” is used in the RCM to describe a rank when, apparently, space exploration or travel is impossible in Elysium due to the pale. I love the meta’s, fics, art, that uses a space motif for Jean as much as the next guy, but, canonically, there are no space stations, no satellite tvs. It’s unclear even how much awareness Elysium’s population has of other planets, of the motion of moons… they talk sometimes about stars or naval navigation… (I could write a whole post just about how the lack of modern astronomy knowledge would affect language, metaphors, art in the world of Elysium… the implications are fascinating.)

Where, then, is the term satellite coming from? Even if in 52’ they are starting to work on sending high altitude balloons or prototype satellites up, the RCM has apparently been using the term “Satellite” for a long while.

Maybe everyone else already knew this, but I’d never known that the word satellite had an established definition in english well before it was used to describe celestial phenomena.

The term originally comes from the latin “satellit, satelles�� meaning “escort or attendent”. Webster gives us the definition, “one who escorts or follows after an important person.” From the Lewis and Charles latin dictionary we get “A lifeguard,” “an accomplice.” My french is rusty, but from the Dictionnaire illustré latin-français we are given “les courtisans,” “compagnon ou compagne,” “serviteur.” A courtisan, a wife or girlfriend, a servant or domestic respectively.

To double down etymologically, the word satellus (simply another form of the word satellit) is literally the diminutive of the word satḗr, meaning “the possessor”. I.e. satellus would mean “the possessed.”

In latin the word satellit was often used to name the followers or worshipers of a deity. If we dig back a bit further, we come to the Proto-Indo-European “Tek-” meaning, “to take by the hand” or “to receive.” The greek words stemming from this same root include the word for “possession,” “property,” “a domestic animal,” “live stock,” “taking, holding, keeping something as one’s own.”

Our astronomical use of the word satellite is actually a metaphor based on the earlier definition—ie the moon “escorts” and “attends” to the earth. The earth owns and possesses the moon. I’d always assumed the metaphor ran the other way, so to speak.

So in Elysium, a world in which the astronomical definition of the word satellite has not eclipsed the original connotation of the word, the rank of Satellite Officer might carry far heavier implications and associations than we’d at first assume.

[appleslightning]

“You got lucky,” he says, bringing Harry’s hand up to his lips and kissing it. He holds it there for a beat, then lets it go. “I’m sorry Harry, but I don’t think this was a good idea. I think maybe … I think maybe it’s time we stopped.”

a pulled down shade by fast_brother

[troythecatfish]

[gaaaaaaaayypr]

Facts lol

[st4rsinheaven]

'you have your mother's eyes, harry'

[residentrookie]

jegulus dads ‘i frew up 🧍’ microfic— 1313 words; sorry guys i was brain rotting too hard about this one (cw: mentions of throwing up)

in all his 27 years, regulus has never been a deep sleeper. so when the door to the bedroom creaks open at 3 in the morning, his eyes open with it. the room is still pitch black, and he wonders groggily if boots (their cat) pawed it open when a tiny, weak voice whimpers, “daddy?”

regulus is launching up in bed and turning towards the voice of his five year old son before thinking twice.

“what, baby? what is it?”

at his sudden movement, james shoots up in bed next to him. “—whatisit. haz?” he mumbles, flicking on a lamp and dousing the room in light.

there stands harry in his spiderman jams, hair an absolute bird’s nest and tears streaming from his big green eyes and down his sweet cheeks. regulus’ eyes water instinctively just looking at him. before having kids, regulus never knew what it was to empathize so automatically with someone else— but he felt harry’s emotions right along with him, the joy, the sorrow, and the pain too.

“i—“ harry starts, then sucks in a big stuttering breath, clearly trying to be a brave boy and not cry, “i-i threw u-up.”

at the admission he wails, like he’s just confessed to the most abhorrent sin and will now have to face the wrath of his two loving fathers, who are so light on punishments they sometimes worry harry will end up being the most spoiled brat alive. james and regulus share a quick look, what regulus would consider the “dad” look, before throwing back the covers and rising quickly.

surprisingly, they’ve planned for this. years ago. when they first started dating. james had asked regulus about this very scenario, and after minutes of regulus whining about never wanting children in the first place—so why does it even matter, james— he’d made his position clear.

“i don’t do vomit.” regulus told him firmly. “absolutely not.”

james had laughed. “fine by me. if you only knew how much of my friends vomit i’ve had to clean up over the years. i don’t even blink at it anymore.”

thus the responsibilities of this hypothetical situation were assigned. james was on vomit duty. regulus was on comfort duty.

“not sure i’ll be any good at that either,” regulus had said grudgingly, but james had just smiled knowingly, able to see a future that regulus couldn’t yet imagine.

james makes it to harry first and scoops him up promptly, letting him bury his face in his neck and sob. regulus comes up behind them and snuggles up to harry, kissing his small head and whispering reassurances.

“shhhh don’t cry, it’s okay, haz. does your tummy hurt?” james asks calmly, rocking them all back and forth soothingly.

regulus pulls back and watches harry nod. his cheek is rosy and hot when regulus puts his hand to it.

“come on, baby, let’s go take care of it okay?” regulus tells him, and james deposits their still-sniffling son into his husbands open arms.

“you know what time it is?” james asks, wiggling his brows. harry just sniffs and shakes his head. “time to be superdad,” james tells him, pointing at his faded superman t-shirt. then he gives an animated salute, puts one fist on his hip and the other high in the sky before jetting out of the room with some impressive ‘flying sounds’ that manage to make harry smile a little before he remembers that he’s actually very upset right now. regulus shakes his head at his wonderfully ridiculous spouse and starts towards the stairs, feeling harry’s hot tears gather in the crook of his neck.

after giving harry some medicine, they settle on the couch downstairs, harry in regulus lap and clinging to him. regulus rocks them for a few minutes, letting harry’s breaths slow as he calms down.

“papa?” harry sniffles suddenly, his voice so small.

“yes, sweetheart?” regulus asks, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“we need to have a funeral. like how we did for bobbi.”

regulus blinks. bobbi, harry’s goldfish, had died three days after james brought him home, leaving the two of them to explain the complicated matter of death to their three and a half year old. so harry had a vague idea of the concept and of funerals, though his only exposure has been the meager ceremony they’d patched together and held in their garden. sirius had given a speech and peter had cried.

“what? why?” regulus demands, scanning his son’s face. his bottom lip pokes out as his eyes fill with tears yet again.

“b-because i think i killed hippo,” he wails. “i-i threw up all over him— a-and ron said that throw up is like— like how supervillains spit out the acid and k-kill the good guys—“

regulus closes his eyes briefly, exhaling in relief. he makes a mental note to tell james to cool it on the superhero movies for a while— clearly it’s getting into harry’s head.

“no baby, hippo is fine. he just needs to go for a swim in the wash, and then he’ll come out as good as new.”

harry peels his head back from regulus’ chest, blinking up at home hopefully. “really?”

“really. i bet daddy has already put him in. shall we go check on him just to be sure?”

“yes, please,” harry says, politely. oddly, it makes regulus think of his mother, of how she had demanded her boys to be polite above all else, even in the face of abuse and neglect. james and regulus had done absolutely everything differently, and harry still turned out to be the sweetest boy on the planet. walburga can fucking suck it.

pushing aside the thoughts of his mother, regulus rises with harry still perched on his hip. they walk back upstairs, peeking their heads into the laundry room to find james, metaphorical sleeves rolled up as he hums to himself, rummaging through their linens. regulus truly married the only person in the world who can sing while cleaning up vomit at 3 in the morning.

james turns and smiles at them in the doorway. “my boys!” he says cheerfully, crossing the room to give harry a smooch on the head.

“he’s worried about hippo, darling,” regulus explains. “can you show him how he’s just gone for a dip in the wash?”

“who, hippo?” james asks. “oh he’s great. you know what he told me haz?” he leans forward as if confiding a secret, “he told me he’s been wanting a bubble bath for sooo long and he’s sooo happy he finally got the chance. he even said to tell you thank you!”

harry giggles. “no he didn’t. he doesn’t talk.”

james gasps. “well he certainly talks to me, harry. we’re the best of friends.”

“i thought papa was your best friend,” harry says and james’ face melts into the gentlest smile.

“that’s true, too. it’s a tie between hippo and papa.”

regulus rolls his eyes as harry laughs. they go over and stand in front of the washer. the top is clear, so harry can see all his stuffies (including hippo) swirl around in the sudsy water. after several moments of watching them spin, james nudges regulus, inclining his head towards harry.

regulus looks down to see their baby’s eyes closed, head heavy, cheek squished against his chest.

“his bed has fresh sheets,” james whispers but regulus isn’t quite ready to let him go. he looks up at james with a pleading face.

james, try as he might, has never excelled at being the hardass parent. so when regulus takes their son back into their bedroom, depositing him under the covers between the two of them, james just smiles and shakes his head. they climb into bed and turn towards harry, two parenthesis enclosing the small shape of their son, cradling him and keeping him safe.

regulus sleeps long and deep, one hand laced with his husband’s, the other resting on his son’s dark head.