#Lily is objectively more important to the story than James and we still know so much more about him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thequibblah · 3 years ago

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directors cut for WTRF? 🥺👉👈 not biased at all obviously just objective third party asking for a directors cut hmmm hmmmmm

literally how could u do this every other word in that fic is an easter egg i can't shut up about..... bestie u are about to have regrets

one thing u should know is that 90% of things in this fic have real-world equivalents and its not even like....... hidden equivalents. serie primo = serie a, for instance. this trend is going to continue and i won't apologise <3

fun fact i named the bar the Bar and the drinks after shapes because i was too lazy to come up with something actually clever

this bit

I’m grinning to myself by the time she approaches my table.

was a very intentional fakeout and if you read this and thought "she" would be lily, feel free to sue me for emotional damages

the biggest conundrum of this AU was, how are jily not going to have met in school when magic exists? the solution was, of course, having multiple magic schools. but i couldn't let one of them have hogwarts, that didn't seem fair. i know i did sort of let lily have it..... but i felt more comfortable making hogwarts a university so there was a legit reason why james wasn't there and in gryffindor (if he'd gone he absolutely would have been)

once solved, i did the fun thing of naming them! ottaline gambol's was easy, i just scrolled through the list of ministers for magic and picked a progressive one. peverell hall was a whim, made all the funnier when lily's reaction is:

Much was made at Otty’s — one of the more progressive magical schools, named for one of the more progressive Ministers of Magic — of schools like Peverell Hall and St. George’s. The latter, I know, is chock-full of pureblooded elite. Peverell Hall is supposed to be slightly better, but still.

dang, it's gonna be funny if she ever finds out james is a descendant of the guy it's named after

fun fact, i included this because peter's question was a real thought i had when reading bond and free, your inspiring writing knows no limits:

The first thing you conjure in Walking Wombat is a yellow quill... “Why yellow?” Peter asked. Eddie gave him a strange look. “Why not?”

i realised i'd put jily in the same conundrum they had in tis the fucking season here:

It’s only then that I remember she’s just bought us drinks. I turn back to my triangle. “Oh, shit.” I suppose I can pawn it off on one of the others.

...but of course the resolution is rather different, and i do so enjoy a james with no filter (aka default james)

I briefly lose control of my brain and my tongue. “Is it too soon to say I’m in love with you?”

by the way, no-filter james will be a theme. wild things sure do run fast but not as fast as this boy runs his mouth!

also, another interesting challenge here was making sure james has a reason to be the way he is in AU. i love playing around with james's childhood/background and seeing how that affects his character while (hopefully!) staying true to who he is. i did that in ttfs by having him move around a lot and not meet the marauders until after the flashback timeline, which is why he's less of a git — he doesn't have the level of comfort in a social setting that canon james has with hogwarts, which is basically his playground from day 2 of first year lol

here, james was probably a fkn nightmare all through school, but of course he gets a big ego check when his quidditch career is derailed. i imagine his years in italy as a continuation of that humility lesson.

I will fully admit I used to be a cocky prick. This is what comes of being a kid who grew up with everything. But one useful thing that the whole fiasco four years ago taught me is humility. I’ve learned how to ask nicely for another chance.

and so much of writing him in wtrf is juggling that typical confidence with the insecurity/fear of losing something he's invested so much in (and has seen slip away before). it's really new to me, because typically i give lily uncertain life circumstances, but i suppose it's both of them in this AU.

the car thing was... i swear didn't start out as smutty, it was purely because i wanted a way to establish lily as muggleborn in a world where the connotations of not having magical parents is very different. more to come on that!

also, come to think of it, by this metric...

I’m now in dangerous territory, since that adds another impressive action to her running tally.

...i think james is already in love with her LOL

this bit:

The street is considered indecent and the downstairs hallway would have our landlady come running at once, so if it pleases Your Honour, we would recommend the sitting room sofa.

...was actually because in draft one lily was a lawyer, but then it was funny enough that i didn't want to take it out, but NOW i realise it makes it sound a little like she's addressing james as your honour, which.... hm. but anyway, we move on

Marc Bolan begs us to get it on through the stereo, vocalising my thoughts exactly.

the song here was initially "you shook me" (h/t @keepingupwithpotters) but i chickened out because zeppelin is SO horny dfjkhgkjs

also, it gave me so much joy to read everyone reacting to lily thinking about her ex (the general vibe was "who the fuck is this guy!!! ew!!!!") — rest assured (or, unassured??) that he has a part to play in all this. anyway, this is one of my fave lines:

He’s just a person, and there’s such a relief in sleeping with James and not the myth of a guy.

because as any come together reader knows....

Just James. Just James. It was never just James.

wtrf lily will learn!

literally the whole world knows i'm obsessed with needle drops that have no subtlety at all, but this one...

We just laugh, tangled together in a sweaty heap, as “Heaven Is in the Back Seat of My Cadillac” plays through the car’s speakers. “On the nose, isn’t it?” James says, sitting up.

...was pure luck, because i was looking up the top hits on the uk singles chart for the week(ish) this scene takes place in so that i could find a song that would realistically play on the radio, saw this, and was like omg the stars really do align

i feel like the thing i enjoy most about writing romance is the importance i get to place in noticing/looking/observing (and sometimes, not noticing!). it's just such a powerful but simple writerly tool, and god knows i am obsessed with pithy descriptions anyway, so this bit i am especially happy with:

James is already waiting, leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets. I feel as though I’m seeing him for the first time, the faint light of the flickering streetlamp catching him in profile: the strong slope of his nose, the hard line of his jaw, the curve of his smile. He studies the facade of our building with open curiosity, and I wonder what he’s looking for.

(one can only imagine james's train of thought in this moment. perhaps "ah. here lives the future love of my life"?)

“Thanks,” she tacks on at the end. I tip my head to one side in confusion. “For what?” “For, I don’t know. Being nice.” She laughs awkwardly. “I don’t do this very much.”

it wouldn't be a quibblah original tee em without some discourse to come about the nature of romantic/sexual relationships, would it? one thing i enjoy about this AU ("one thing" i say as if this isn't the billionth thing in a list) is that i get to write a romantic lily who's squaring that romanticism with what she perceives as the culture of the times. (this is a bit of a staple in all my characterisations of lily, but it is not often paired with casual sex, the complication of all complications!)

oh this bit literally wrote itself like i didn't even pause to think just vomited it out:

In the morning — and it must be early still — the sun streams through Lily’s sorry excuses for curtains with aggression that cannot be ignored. I crack open an eye to find myself sprawled out across her bed, quite literally spread-eagled. She’s attached to my side like a barnacle. Or a very pretty barnacle, anyway.

i'm especially proud of james's voice in this story. i don't often write first-person fic and i was worried how it'd turn out, but i think james as a character/narrator typically colours his own 3rd-person narration so strongly that it ended up a smoother transition than i'd feared!

also i just. i can't resist throwing in comic relief and i hope that this whole segment was a gentle enough preparation for the awkwardness that followed LOL

All of a sudden, the balcony door bursts open. I nearly drop the mug. “What the—” Mary pokes her head around the corner, sporting a righteous smile. “Morning, handsome.” Over her shoulder she shouts, “He’s on the balcony!” I blink. There’s a sound from inside the flat, as if something very large has just been dropped. Then a swear. “Oh, shit,” I say, realisation dawning, “you weren’t looking for me, were you? It’s so loud out here—” Mary cups a hand around her mouth and stage-whispers, “Lily was frantic.” She’s quite violently yanked back, and Lily herself appears in the doorway, slightly out of breath. “Should’ve checked the balcony first,” she says, and closes the door before Mary can insert herself into the space again. “Hi,” I say, which is agreed-upon best practice for greeting a woman you’ve just had fantastic sex with and ideally would like to have sex with again.

to this day i don't know what lily dropped. let's hope it wasn't expensive!

Captained the under-17 English squad at the World Cup some years back, Serie Primo’s lead goal-scorer of last year… Only an injury in what should’ve been his first season at Puddlemere mars his record. I wince reading about it and comparing it to a heap of press clippings. James Potter was hurt, and Puddlemere didn’t fancy paying for him not to play, so they shipped him off to Milan.

(you cannot imagine how much pointed interrogation of my brother it took to gather this intel.) i constantly worry that i've got dates or timelines wrong somehow — you might notice i tweaked under-17, which used to be under-19 until i realised that made no sense (even though in terms of its career importance i would much preferred it to have been u-19.... anyway). i also found out that u-17 football squads don't actually have captains but i said fuck it on that count.

but obviously i started writing this AU for the sports possibilities, only to discover i'm going to have to interfere a great deal with the Timeline (you shall see in future instalments).

god i really went through the whole fic. like i reread the whole thing to do this. here u go clare jfbghjfd

#this has no right to be this long #wtrf #clareee75 #ask me #director's cuts

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quidfree · 4 years ago

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In LMV what’s the dynamic between James, Sirius, and Remus? I can see that Remus is into Sirius but doesn’t seem to be into James...I think Sirius is maybe into Remus and is definitely into James, I know he and Remus kissed but he seems to be preoccupied with James... are Sirius and Remus officially a thing?And James is married but is awfully attached to Sirius, but doesn’t seem to be into Remus. What do you see the relationships between the three of them as? Is this something that’s going to be explored? Thanks!

my main thing w the marauders (at least in LMV) is that it’s not like, per se, any of them are clear-cut ‘a thing’ or dating or whatever, notwithstanding the very in love married couple in the group. the dominant relationship at work (and the one that matters most to me) is the one between all of them, ie a bunch of people who are very close friends and all at least a little in love w/ each other. beyond that the degree and intensity of feelings varies. but LMV itself kind of traces the arc of everyone realising this, and just kind of gradually not caring about clean-cut social boundaries between them, instead favouring just letting whatever messy feelings they may have be known within the group. i think sirius and lily are the two people who have wised up the most to it by this point, as the story hopefully suggests.

to answer your question more specifically, like i mentioned above, there’s no 1:1 equivalence between any of the relationships in LMV- all of the individual relationships are kind of on their own page. so the core boys are all v tight friends, but beyond that their pairings are all very different from e/o. (sidenote it feels very weird to exclude lily from this discussion but fair is fair).

james-sirius is kind of the predominant one in LMV itself, which i swear is just me applying canon- yes, we barely see them interact in the books themselves, but the way literally every other character talks about it it’s obvious they were inseparable to the point of codependence when james was alive, so this translates into the fic. so yes, jamesandsirius™ does take precedence over most of their other relationships- which everyone else is fully aware of. the main disbalance in their relationship is just that sirius has a lot of familial hangups so he puts james on a bit of a pedestal (to summarise shocking amounts of meta i could write), and then james has lily whereas sirius primarily has james- though regulus is sirius’ Other Person in a sense. i think really james and sirius have been factually dating since they were like twelve but just don’t know it because they were so instantly on the same page they never went through the awkward motions. both lily and remus are at least subconsciously aware of this. so, increasingly (and to his horror) is regulus.

remus-sirius are also a very important relationship (to both charas) but on a different level than james and sirius are. from remus’ pov i think remus and sirius are to an extent closer than remus and james, even though james means more to remus, if that makes sense- they may not vibe as much but they understand each other. this last bit also applies to sirius. remus has a similarly pine-y feeling for all three other marauders (lily included as third, not peter, lol) but in a way sirius is the only one he feels like he can communicate this to (see: old married couple) bc he’s not so above remus’ cynicism. the same in reverse goes for sirius. the two of them didn’t kiss because they’re Now Dating, it’s more that after all the stress and drama surrounding the locket + their prolonged roommateship sirius kind of walks back into his flat, takes in remus’ presence, and is like. im now going to kiss you as revenge/thanks for caring about my survival. it’s definitely acknowledging a tension that’s been around for ages, but it doesn’t change anything about their relationship otherwise, yk? which i think they were both kind of worried about before but in the moment even as remus feels murderous he’s also relieved like oh, ok, this is normal actually.

remus-james is a relationship that’s unfortunately been placed on the back-burner by plot seeing as they haven’t hung out alone for prolonged amounts of time since the chapter where they hunted down the squib house. which is a shame bc they are also v close friends w a v interesting relationship! and remus is not immune to the james effect- he’s subtler about it, but he certainly hero worships him a fair deal, though unlike sirius he doesn’t have a giant blind spot about it. and james in return almost especially enjoys remus’ company because he’s the most closed off of his friends, even all these years later, so he’s still forever trying to worm his way into his head (heart having been long foregone) and their verdicts on things matter a lot to each other. i would say of the whole group they’re probably the least, hm, ‘romantic’ per se, but they are incredibly important to e/o, and probably best-suited to give each other advice that approximates the objective, despite their own biases. in a specific way they are the most self-aware of the dynamics of the group.

i hope that about answers your question- tldr this is obviously sort of a secondary theme to LMV that is gradually explored throughout the narrative, but my main point would be not to try and sort out clear-cut pairings because that is not what the story’s really about. they are just people who love e/o!

#qui repond #qui ecrit #lmv #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #ot4 #marauders #anon

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

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All in the Family

Chapter 32: Cornelius Fudge

Lily was the lucky one. She seemed to have landed in a large, sturdy chair that didn't even fall over as she was slammed into it. Her luck didn't hold, as Potter came stumbling right into her and landed in her lap.

"Sorry," he muttered as he blinked dazedly up at her.

"So am I," she scoffed as she pushed him off. She watched with disinterest as he fell the rest of the way to the ground before looking around. "Are we in Dumbledore's office?" She asked in surprise. It seemed to be as Harry had described, a great circular room with many portraits hung all along the wall. Most surprising of all, the occupants were all present, eyeing the students with great looks of unease.

"No, this isn't right," Potter corrected as he adjusted his glass, though he was only looking at the desk before him. "Dumbledore's desk has clawed feet. This one's not the same, and I don't know why he'd have any reason to change it."

"Plus that's not a Hogwarts view," Lupin agreed, once again at the window. An orange glow of sunset bathed his face as he looked out onto a balcony, the terrace set up for a grand dinner party, the flat lawn beyond something Lily vaguely recalled seeing on her television once.

"We're in the Minister of Magic's office," Frank managed around an awed voice, staring more closely at all the portraits around, particularly the one right behind Lily in a large ornate frame.

"Tas right!" The woman told him, eyeing the lot of them with great suspicion. She had tightly curled grey hair and tiny little specks set upon a mushroom nose. They all vaguely recognized her as their own current Minister for Magic, Millicent Bagnold. "And just what are you lot doing in here? Ministry never allowed tours right into my office in my day."

"Err, tours?" Frank asked eagerly, wondering if they could finally get some sort of clue of what happened to the outside world. "Exactly how long has this office been empty?"

Her face went blank in confusion, before she kept going on in a sharp voice. "Never you mind, you lot need to get out."

"Wish we could," Pettigrew sighed as he once again tried the door unsuccessfully.

An ugly old wizard who resembled a toad with a muddy brown backdrop right next to the door snapped, "wishing never got you anything, how's about you get on with it." Peter eyed the name, Ulick Gamp, committing it to memory so on his O.W.L. exams he could fill in the blank for rudest Minister.

"Right, well, I'm just going to," Black tried to edge towards the bookshelf, eyeing all the titles and looking for the one they needed. Most of them were so boring he couldn't believe anyone had ever cracked the spine open, you'd think a Minister would have a more lively office. Instead, while the place certainly had a grand feel with the domed ceiling and columns of book cases, a few even did have the same knickknacks he'd once spotted in Dumbledore's office, the place felt more like a front than if anyone had decorated with a care for themselves.

Regulus clutched a hat stand to get to his feet, which only had one lime-green bowler hat upon it. He got himself upright and found himself face to face with Artemisia Lufkin, a woman who vaguely resembled McGonagall. He sort of recalled her name as the first Minister to hold a Quidditch World cup in Britain.

"I've found the book," Potter announced behind him, the sounds of him rummaging through the Ministers desk audible. "Here Evans, like a turn?"

She scoffed, but to Regulus' surprise he heard, "give me that, I'll read it just to get us out of here. How about you not go through someone else's things for a change of pace?"

The sounds of another drawer opening stopped, and he heard a deep sigh. "Sorry Evans, can't do that, might be something important in here!" Then the rustling noises of papers being rearranged began.

The red head stormed past him out of his peripheral, and Regulus rolled his eyes for the display. Didn't those two ever get tired of antagonizing each other? "Look alive sunny," Artemisia Lufkin told him with a pleasant sort of smile now, "that's one spit fire you're in the company of."

He turned away in disgust, his eyes falling on his brother and Lupin now chatting animatedly with Grogan Stump, one whom he definitely recognized from his fathers lectures. Of course his brother seemed to like that one, the idiotic Minister who decided to classify all the differences in the sort of creatures out there, but he was also the one who created the Department for Games and Sports. He was one of the few lectures both brothers had enjoyed.

Regulus instead turned to Longbottom now trying to have a proper conversation with a Minister he most certainly did know. Faris "Spout-Hole" Spavin. His mother loved that man, always going on about the story of his attempted assassination by a centaur. "You don't have another portrait anywhere? Can't leave this room and find out if something's going on in the outside world? Merlin, you don't have a clue how we're in this mess? This has to be one of the most collective knowledgeable people in history, and not one of you-

"Oh, they're not going to be of any help," Alice interrupted with a sympathetic frown to her boyfriend. "They're of no more use than our photos you know, they can only say what their real life counterpart was most likely to have. Nothing of the sort we'd need for help, it's beyond them."

"I've never looked into how conscious the portraits are," Frank admitted ruefully.

"I have," Alice shrugged. "They're fascinating, I was thinking about taking up a class this summer."

Evans looked just as disappointed, but finally turned to the book and began reading. None of them recognized the name of Cornelius Fudge, but given their environment it wasn't too hard to put together who he was.

Regulus didn't have much care of the Potter brats worry his friend Hagrid was now the main suspect. That Riddle kid who had tried to put the blame on him was ridiculous, but then, he was from a Muggle orphanage, it was no surprise he was wrong. Obviously Hagrid couldn't be the heir of Slytherin, as far as Regulus knew he wasn't even a competent wizard. No pure-blood of Slytherin's line would be riffraff about the castle grounds.

Lily was reading all of this while trying not to chew her lip up in thought. She unintentionally agreed with Regulus, someone must have framed Hagrid those fifty years ago and then stopped the attacks knowing it would be foolish to keep going. This did nothing to explain Harry's current predicament of who was doing the same now, and why such a long wait in between attacks?

James at least was enjoying hearing of Harry discussing his options for more classes. He could commiserate the feeling of wanting to drop some, and then sat up with interest a new subject was being added.

"Divination?" Peter demanded, circling around the desk as James was now on his knees with files circling him. "Why couldn't we have had that option, do you know how much easier our life would have been to make up shit for our homework instead of Ancient Runes!"

"But you're great at that class," James looked up at him in surprise.

"Yeah, but still, I'd have liked a dozer option," Peter shrugged as he sat down beside him, careful not to sit on anything and block James' progress. "Looking for anything in particular?"

"Not really," he shrugged as he kept going. "Decided not to pass up the opportunity to see what goes on in here though. Mostly it's just his signatures on final documents about imported goods, some minor law regarding trade with Eurasia, food that needs to be shipped out to Azkaban-"

He stopped in surprise and looked around, Peter and everyone else with him as Evans read out the trashed out common room they'd currently left.

"Who on Earth would do such a thing!" Frank asked in surprise.

"Besides the Marauders," Evans agreed with a glare at the two she could still see, knowing the other two were still at it behind the desk.

"It was like that when we entered," Black said carelessly, but there was a suspicious frown on his face all the same as he tried to figure out who would have done this and why. Hermione's suggestion it could only be a Gryffindor didn't make any sense, Harry and Ron had already proved this year anyone in the castle could have gone in. The real question was, why?

They all grew uncomfortably still when they realized the object that was missing Riddle's diary!

"Well, I say good," Remus muttered as he sat down in the Minister's chair and kept eyeing James' work. "That thing was no good and didn't need to be around Harry or anyone. Whoever came and got it from him can deal with such a nasty dark object."

"I don't understand what the point of it was," Sirius was starting to pace in agitation and kicked a file right into James' lap by accident. A few papers scattered out of it while he kept going. "Was Harry supposed to find it? Was him finding it some elaborate trap? Who would care if the point of it was for Harry to see Hagrid being framed all those years ago? Anyone who knew him would know he'd never actually turn on his friend."

"Idiots about the school who don't know him well at all," Peter suggested as he went to pull the last page out from under the desk, while James tried to haphazardly put the rest back into a neat pile.

At least as Evans kept going they had the promise of a good Quidditch match to look forward too, until that was also ruined by that voice once again appearing.

Remus shivered and sunk deeper in his chair, thankful the sun was still clinging to the sky outside even if the sky was turning blood red for it. At least they weren't back in the castle having to hear of such a thing happening again.

"I swear Hermione would stop in the middle of a fight just to go look up a spell!" James laughed in surprise as she darted away again.

"Prongs, look at this," Peter suddenly hissed, now crouching very purposefully under the desk while Evans kept going. He froze in surprise and the two hardly even registered their friends grousing loudly about Quidditch of all things being canceled.

Frank and Alice listened with trepidation, holding each others hands and standing as close to each other as they could in the large office. It didn't matter they weren't in the castle, they could feel the impending doom of whatever had caused such a thing, and were horrified to be right. A double attack, and one was a girl they well knew would affect Harry.

"Oh!" Lily yelped in surprise, dropping the book as if it had scalded her as she read out Hermione's name. Her stomach heaved, she looked near tears. A prefect and another Muggleborn! She may as well picture herself there, petrified forever!

"Shh, hey, it's okay Lily," Alice was at her side then, as if she could rub comfort into her through her arm. "I'll finish this, alright, everything will work out."

"N-no," she said stubbornly at once. "I was just, surprised."

"It's alright to admit otherwise," Frank said kindly, watching her shaking hands in concern.

"Well, I don't need to because I'm not," she snapped, stepping away from both of them. She refused to be pandered too when there was nothing wrong! She was being ridiculous, picturing herself as such a thing, they'd never be getting anywhere near whoever was doing this.

The two exchanged a look of concern but didn't protest anymore, letting her work this out how she saw fit.

The mirror made no sense to anyone, though Regulus shifted restlessly as he was sure an answer was piling up right in front of them. Those school rules McGonagall was suddenly trying to enforce wasn't going to help anything. Then he scoffed in disgust how easily swayed the house of Gryffindor was so ready to blame and throw out anyone of his own house. Of course none of those idiots would recognize a frame up job when one was presented.

"What are you two looking at over there?" Sirius finally demanded when James and Peter shared a dreadful look over mention of Harry going to see Hagrid again. It seemed like a good idea to him, see what the gamekeeper really did have to say about all of this.

"That we don't think Hagrid will be there when the boys come knocking," Peter sighed.

"Why?" Remus sat up in surprise to snatch the paper away now. "Think he's going to make a run for it, that's ridiculous."

"I know I would if that was coming for me," James said grimly when Remus went white in surprise.

"Oh for the love of-" Sirius snatched it away next rather than waiting for Moony to find his tongue, and then promptly lost his own. He swallowed uncomfortably and could only breathe again when the boys did it and found Hagrid indeed still at his cabin. His state though made it clear he was now as aware of his pending doom as they were. Someone would soon be calling to arrest him and take him to Azkaban, as this order by the Minister declared.

"They can't do this!" Peter whispered in a horror mirroring Hagrid's, he'd be doing much more than just breaking teapots around his own place.

"Oh but they can," James spat in disgust, suddenly on his feet and stamping across everything now without a care. More pages scattered about the entire room now, he had half a mind to conjure up more and create a mini-tornado full of all the Ministers most precious things and cast them away forever. He would never let this stand, Hagrid had done nothing to deserve this! If they'd had proof of this act he already would have been locked away, now they were just rehashing an old suspect, and for what? To put the blame on anyone? Or the half-giant.

Dumbledore's presence was the most mild of relief, and that was ruined anyways in the next second as the Minister himself was there to fill out the order.

There was nothing but stunned silence and nasty faces as Evans told all why Fudge was there, and things still only grew worse when Lucius Malfoy arrived.

Regulus tried to look relieved, but he couldn't find the feeling anywhere in him. The pure-blood stepping in would surely make all of this better and stop all this happening to kids, he knew that's exactly what his mother would say, but then he realized he shouldn't even be wanting this to stop. It was true the only ones being attacked were Muggleborns, and who should care if a few less of them were plaguing the school?

He did.

He hated to admit it, even to himself. It left him nauseous with the feeling a knife was going to sprout in his back any second for such a thought, but he couldn't deny it anymore. It just wasn't right, this happening to kids he shared a class with! How could it ever be right to see anyone so terrified for their own life, as Evans clearly was.

He didn't know who to turn to or what to do with this news of Dumbledore now being just as forcibly departed as the gamekeeper. He really couldn't think of much of anything past the idea this had to stop somehow. He couldn't imagine how things could get any worse as they were ripped from this place once more.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #Regulus Black #Marauders #CoS #Reading the books #Wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Alice Smith #Frank Longbottom

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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 4 years ago

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The Princess Bride: A Product of the Times

The 1980s were an age of surplus in terms of just about everything. From the music and clothes to the explosions on screen, the 1980s were a clear example of excess, of wealth of ideas and resources, and nowhere was it more obvious than in the movie industry.

From teen films to comedies to blockbuster action extravaganzas, the 1980s movie industry, led by directors like Steven Spielberg, James Cameron, Richard Donner and more, brought a combination style of ‘throwback’ + innovation to many of their films. Movies like Star Wars and Indiana Jones directly imitated and updated sci-fi and adventure serials from Spielberg and George Lucas’s youth, whereas films like Joe Dante’s Gremlins poked fun at ‘50s B-Movie horror movies. John Carpenter’s The Thing provided an updated look at a classic monster flick, and his The Fog called back to plenty older ghost stories, while making something new of his own. Although the 1980s was a period of exploration in film, with new genres being pioneered and explored in different directions, part of that exploration included looking backward and experimenting with previously existing genres, with the up and coming generation of ‘Movie Brat’ directors choosing to play with elements they’d grown up knowing and loving themselves.

That extended to the fantasy genre.

From the pulpy style of the Low Fantasy Conan the Barbarian films to the magical feeling of movies like Labyrinth or Willow, the 1980s theaters experienced a major boom in terms of fantasy films, experiencing varying levels of success. From Excalibur to Legend, these new fantasy films took risks with special effects, methods of storytelling, and styles of characters (although lots of them became known as Cliche Storms). These movies utilized unique spins on fairy-tale stories and legends, updating and modernizing aspects of them and either making them darker, or finding new ways to acknowledge the fantastical elements of the story.

Most interesting is that, in the 1980s, the fantasy genre didn’t have a whole lot of history to draw from.

Unlike the B-Sci-Fi flicks from the ‘50s or the Creature Features, or even the adventure serials that would go on to spark Indiana Jones, there wasn’t a lot of previous canon in the fantasy genre. Films like The Wizard of Oz, which were landmarks in the genre, didn’t have a whole lot of obvious influence on the sword-and-sorcery films that came afterwards.

Now, you may be asking why all of this matters. Or why any of it matters, in fact.

Here’s the thing: no film is an island. Every movie, (some more than others) is directly influenced by the culture it exists in, and the pool of resources that have come before it, especially in the cases of the films directly designed to emulate genres or specific movies that have already been made.

And that certainly seems to have been the case, at least partially, as far as The Princess Bride is concerned.

Despite being released in the 1980s, with the original book by William Goldman written in 1973, The Princess Bride doesn’t wholly read like it’s contemporaries in the fantasy genre. If you watch it alongside the likes of Ladyhawke, Labyrinth, and Legend, you’ll find that more about the film stands out other than not following my alliterative pattern.

In many of the other fairy-tale-esque stories populating Hollywood during this decade, the characters talk and act very much like they are in a very grand story. There is gravity to the situation and most of the characters, (exception being some of the creatures in Labyrinth) and the story is typically an epic one.

The Princess Bride, on the other hand, manages to avoid this tone and story structure, by including a very traditional fairy-tale plot: save the princess from the evil prince, but by going about it using styles more typical of a different era entirely.

Rather than using the fantasy, action, or even adventure styles traditionally used by the 1980s, The Princess Bride utilized something a little earlier: the swashbuckling style of the 1930s.

Due to the way that the story and characters are written (with a sharp, sly, tongue-in-cheek edge), The Princess Bride cannot be played as a straight fantasy film (check out the Genre article to hear more), and while it does retain plenty of the 1980s charm about it, it also uses the fast-dialogue and witty humor found in stories like The Adventures of Robin Hood and other swashbuckler stories from that decade of adventure films. Watching the fencing match between Inigo Montoya and Westley is eerily similar to many such fight scenes in older action-adventure movies, and listening to the dialogue during this and other sequences, the humorous tone with dry, quick wit, is also an echo of older screwball-style dialogue.

Whether this was intentional or not, the fact is, this makes The Princess Bride’s style very fresh and new in the middle of the fantasy boom of the 1980s. It also had a very interesting side effect:

It made The Princess Bride ‘timeless’.

The idea of something being ‘timeless’ is an interesting topic in the film world.

The word ‘timeless’ is best defined as ‘not affected by the passage of time or changes in fashion’. It carries the implication that, applied to film, a ‘timeless’ movie would be one totally understandable and relatable years after the culture has changed. Carried further, the ideal ‘timeless’ movie would be one with no cultural identity of its own, completely orphaned from the original context that the story originated in. In other words, this is a story that can be enjoyed no matter how much time has passed. Typically, this word gets applied to period stories, sci-fi films, or fantasies: stories not set in the contemporary time period.

In direct contrast, of course, the word ‘dated’ is simply used to apply to anything created in a discernible time period. This word typically carries the connotation of ‘old-fashioned’. This word’s connotation is that, (applied to film) a ‘dated’ film is one that is less understandable by those looking from outside that particular culture or time period. This would be a film that hasn’t ‘aged well’, most often describing contemporary films of the day.

So, here’s the thing.

These definitions, while technically correct, are far more complex than this in the film world.

By the dictionary definition, no film is truly timeless. Every film is a product of the times they were created in, because people who lived in those times created them. Every movie, every piece of media are products of the times they are from, but they are not defined by them. A film is not ‘dated’ because it shows the culture, or the technology of its time, or uses that technology when trying to create the world of the movie itself. A movie is not dated because it uses puppets instead of CGI.

As I mentioned, a film is considered ‘dated’ in a true sense if it is less understandable or enjoyable in hindsight, from a place outside of that specific culture. Less easily overlooked are ideas, and here’s what truly does date a movie.

It really doesn’t matter if a film is made in the ‘70s and set in the far future, or made in the ‘50s and set in the distant past, because quite frankly, the movie is still being made in that decade. As a result, even period films end up carrying the thumbprint of the contemporary ideas of the people who made it. Indiana Jones is best remembered as an ‘80s style action hero because although his films are set in the 1930s and made in the style of adventure serials from that time period, the style of action and characterization was very current, in order to update the genre.

The ideas and thematic core of a film, how certain topics and characters are treated and viewed, both in universe and in the narrative, can be what truly dates a film, even if it has none of the recognizable trimmings like a tie-dye shirt, and here’s where we can tread into good vs. bad territory: because while in some cases, the ideas can be pleasantly positive, in others, the opinions presented by the filmmakers can be rather uncomfortable to modern audiences.

So, all of this is to lead us to an important question:

Is The Princess Bride timeless, or at least, as timeless as movies can get?

Well, some would argue no.

A glaring problem with modern movie-goers is the character of Buttercup, who, as I mentioned in the ‘Characters’ article, really doesn’t do much apart from getting passed-around, fought over and protected. Admittedly, especially to a generation used to Princess Leias, Marion Ravenwoods, and even Lilis, Buttercup seems largely useless, relegating the only woman of the film (aside from Valerie, Miracle Max’s wife) to a plot device, an object without much personality.

To a lot of moviegoers, this is pretty blatantly bad representation: there are two named women in the movie, and one of them has less than five minutes of screen time, and the other essentially exists as nothing other than the title of the film. The film also employs a distinctly monochrome cast, another element that can lead to people pointing to a different era of Hollywood, one that didn’t tend to focus on that kind of representation, or in the case of Buttercup, borderline problematic representation.

There are other moments of issues: Westley’s line about ‘there are penalties when a woman lies’ and his berating her for ‘moving on’ and getting married when she’d long thought him dead might rub modern moviegoers the wrong way.

In the end, though, is this…a problem? A detriment to enjoyment of the movie as a whole? Do these elements actively work against the movie in a modern environment?

Well…yes and no.

It is true that now, films are making an active step towards more diverse representation, and that is certainly a good thing. Many movies now are also including more female characters with stronger characters than the distressed plot-devices of old. Heck, even other movies of the 1980s were instituting more ethnic diversity and female characters with more agency in films like Aliens, Baby Boom, The Color Purple and Willow.

Looking back, it can be easy to wince at those moments in The Princess Bride and make the assumption that the film was just being outdated because of when it was made, or due to the ‘fantasy’ period, or even because it’s deliberately utilizing story elements from 1930s films, but in the end, those elements don’t actively hurt the narrative.

Female characters don’t have to be sword-wielders like Sorsha from Willow, or Silk-Hiding-Steel like Isabeau from Ladyhawke. Princesses don’t have to always take over their own rescues. In the end, there’s more support for female characters in the variety offered by the 1980s rather than the eradication of any weak female characters whatsoever, because as it turns out, some women are weak, just as some are strong. (It would have been nice if the weak character wasn’t the only female one, though.)

Is The Princess Bride progressive? Well, no, not really, but it’s not regressive, either. It doesn’t actively serve as detriment to the film to notice these things, not in the same way that other movies experience backlash for outright sexist and racist content. As it stands, The Princess Bride is an excellent movie that manages to stand the test of time because it is so ridiculously fairy-tale-esque. As I said before, the old-fashioned story and dialogue paired with the budget and technology of a 1980s film (except for the ROUS, which is charmingly unbelievable) manages to create something similar to George Lucas’s Star Wars trilogy: a film that is as removed from its cultural context as a piece of media can be (aside from the Grandson’s bedroom decor).

It is potentially largely this element, this aspect of borderline ‘timelessness’ that has allowed The Princess Bride to stand as a forgotten, overlooked classic for over thirty years. That, combined with the genuine warmth, humor, and passion of the film itself, will allow it to continue to stand for far longer, as long as we keep telling our children fairy-tales.

Don’t forget to leave a comment, like, or some other form of love if you enjoyed this analysis, and please, follow for more articles like this! Thanks so much for reading, and I hope to see you in the next article.

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meganswish · 4 years ago

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do you know what I find incredibly interesting? that so many of us believe that Snape is redeemed through Lily - or rather, his love for her - when that's clearly not the case.

because for many people, Snape being redeemed because he loves Lily is a truly dissatisfying redemption. the love involved is not as untarnished as Dumbledore's love for Ariana, as selfless as Regulus' for Kreacher, as dramatic as Narcissa's for Draco. all of these love-based redemptions have one thing in common: Evanna Lynch's thesis (for the purposes of this text post, JKR didn't write Harry Potter 🙃) that love, if allowed, can be a transformative force. Andromeda Tonks, for example, turns her back on bigotry because of love. but the if allowed is very important; the Malfoys are all presented from the very beginning as people extraordinarily devoted to and concerned with members of their own family - Narcissa's redemption, however, is pinpointed at the moment where that love compels her to act, and act in the way that is right. everybody loves - except potentially Voldemort, which is what makes him such a perfect villain for the series - but in Harry Potter, your love absolves you of absolutely nothing until it overpowers all the darkness within you.

that translates very well to the readers. we all understand that Regulus' redemption, whilst motivated by his love for Kreacher, was him sacrificing himself and attempting to destroy the horcrux. we all understand that Narcissa's redemption, whilst motivated by her love for Draco, was her lying to the Dark Lord and allowing the Light to triumph. we all understand that Dumbledore's redemption, whilst motivated by his love for Ariana, was him turning back on his relationship with Gellert and devoting himself to the true greater good for the rest of his life. (depending on your opinion of Professor Dumbles that's more of a backstory than a redemption, but we can roll with it for this.) but Snape's redemption is always characterised as loving Lily (or being sexually attracted to Lily, for some reason?) and not the actions that came with it.

I find this very intriguing. Regulus kept newspaper cuttings of Voldemort's crimes in his bedroom to study because he hero-worshipped him so much. he joined willingly, he was marked. Narcissa never took a Dark Mark, but she sat at the Dark Lord's table, and she only began to act against him when Lord Voldemort began to punish their family for Lucius' failure. even then, the Unbreakable Vow did nothing to stop the assassination attempts - it was meant to preserve Draco, not the intended victim. at their darkest, we have very little evidence to believe either of them to be better people than Snape. (Dumbledore did comparatively very little for Grindelwald's regime so I'm leaving him out of this, but I find it fascinating that despite that, I'd say that the fandom dislikes him more than either Narcissa or Regulus.) so why are their redemptions more convincing, more touching, more acceptable, than Snape's?

I think it has a lot to do with Harry as a narrator. Harry's softest emotion towards Draco Malfoy is probably pity, and even that pity is perhaps dosed with a little contempt. he has little understanding and no appreciation for Narcissa's lifestyle. he and Kreacher get on better during Deathly Hallows, but we can't forget how troubled their relationship initially was. and Harry never relates to Kreacher in the way he does to Dobby, simply because of his servitude - because unlike Dobby, Kreacher internalises the bigotry and belief system of his household as well as the abuse, something that Harry never does.

Snape, however. Snape's object of love is Harry's mother. Harry idolises her maybe more than even his father or Sirius (and that is saying something.) not to mention that throughout Snape's memories, we see that Snape harboured a strong dislike for Petunia, and that throughout most of his childhood he was neglected, underfed, and dressed in clothes too big for him. they show him as a target of bullies, as an underprivileged, miserable outcast with no support system. Snape is so like Harry, and Harry strongly emotionally identifies with him. the parallel is mentioned before the Deathly Hallows - when Harry sees Snape's 'worst memory', his first instinct is to put himself in Snape's place and view the Marauders as Dudley's gang, which is part of the reason he's so horrified. in sixth year, Hermione points out that Snape's speech as their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher has some remarkable similarities to Harry's own whilst he's addressing Dumbledore's Army. the two characters do have their differences, don't get me wrong, and I'm talking glaring differences - but the connection is certainly there. and I don't think it's coincidental that both of their first friends were a warm-hearted redhead who could relate to them about magic.

Harry responds to Snape on an emotional level. his reaction to finding out that Snape is a Death Eater in Goblet of Fire is almost gobsmackingly underwhelming if you compare it to him finding out that Snape was bullied by his father in Order of the Phoenix. he loses his temper when Snape insults his dad, insults Hermione, insults Neville, but he couldn't care less when he joins the Order ("he's still a git," says Ron, and that's the prevailing attitude going forward). it makes sense, after all. Snape's duty is constantly in conflict with his emotions. he saves Harry's life when Quirrell jinxes his broom, he refuses to provide Umbridge with Veritaserum to use on him, and he sends him Gryffindor's sword, sure - but he'll still try and provoke, belittle and punish Harry at every turn, because he didn't like James Potter and he doesn't like Harry either. Hermione, who is very goal-oriented, bases her opinion on Snape on whether or not he appears to be on their side, but for Harry, that's not good enough, because their interactions are defined by their mutual dislike of one another and not by the fact that for all intents and purposes, they are working towards the same goal.

and so for Harry, a large part of his forgiveness, in turn, is emotional - our narrator is far more concerned with the fact that Snape truly loved his mother and that this motivated him to protect Harry than he is with any of Snape's actual redemption. and therefore, the effectiveness of the chapter is strongly affected by how the reader perceives Snape. are we able to identify with him as Harry does? is our gripe with him mostly formed by his daily, schoolteacher-style malice? or are we more concerned with Snape's political positioning - do we want to be assured that he isn't a Death Eater? if the answer to the latter question is 'yes', it's easy to come away angry, because whilst it's made very clear that Snape is not a Death Eater, that doesn't really feel like it's supposed to be our takeaway because it's not Harry's. when he finally confronts Voldemort, their discussion about Snape revolves around '[his] mother, [his] common, Muggleborn mother', because Harry views Snape's devotion to Lily as all important. more important than even his sacrifices and work as a spy.

this may make little to no sense and there are probably tons of other reasons why we view Snape in this way, but I think this one is the most interesting. Harry is a human narrator, and the way that that impacts the story is fascinating.

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wish-upon-a-sapphic-star · 5 years ago

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Alpha Fight

Whoops I wrote a superhero fic. Thanks again to @rowanisnever you are a beta god

Also someone please get the reference in the title I’m begging you

~~~~~

Sirius didn’t know where to go.

He couldn’t go home. Not right now, when everyone would be celebrating the capture of the Stag, surely to be tortured as a part of their festivities. He just couldn’t watch that. He couldn’t enjoy it like the others, only look away in horror.

There were days when he was proud to wear the name Alpha Star. Some dark part of him rejoiced when he saw people clear a path for him in a crowd, scuttling out of the way, making sure he got everything he wanted. It was nice to be respected.

But most days, he knew. He knew the world didn’t respect him. It feared him. It saw his strength and what he had done, what he had threatened to do, and cowered in fear.

He had been raised to covet that fear. The most powerful man in the world is he who people are most afraid of, his mother had always said. Perhaps that was true. Perhaps being a great super villain meant causing terror. But if that was true, he didn’t want to be great. He didn’t even want to be a villain.

His entire life had been spent in the dark. He knew its name, knew its power, knew its taste. It didn’t suit him.

The Black family was born in the dark. They didn’t know anything else. His parents and cousins spent their entire lives hating and raging and destroying because they didn’t know how not to.

For so long, a part of him had hoped otherwise, no matter how stupid the thought had been, that his family even had the capability to love, the ability to maybe one day change. And maybe then he would no longer have to keep up this villainous ruse that was slowly destroying him, ripping what was left of his soul into pieces, forcing him to act against every moral he had ever had.

Only today did he realize how foolish he had been.

His family had never loved anyone, not even each other. They had made that clear.

Regulus was dead. They could have saved him. And they didn’t. They didn’t even bother.

Their mission had been capture the Stag. He and Alpha Wolf had been messing with their plans for weeks, and the Blacks had information on where he would be.

Sirius should have known it was a trap. He should have known the minute he realized how easy it was, but the thought didn’t occur to him until it was too late.

Regulus had fallen to his doom because it was either him or the Stag, and Bellatrix and Narcissa had chosen their enemy over their cousin. His family had done nothing but watch.

Regulus was dead. His little brother was dead.

He wanted to scream. He had screamed, actually, in an alleyway. A few civilians had looked at him strangely before realizing who he was and backing away.

Everything felt empty. Broken. Rain beat down on him, leaving crystalline droplets on his skin and suit, but he didn’t even notice. He just kept walking aimlessly, in the opposite direction of HQ. HQ was supposed to be his home, but he had never felt more unwelcome.

Reggie. His little brother. Gone.

He hadn’t cried, though he desperately wanted to. There was only grief. An aching emptiness in his chest weighing him down, because his little brother, the only family he had ever seen actually having any good inside him, was dead.

Regulus would never smile again. That rare, sweet smile that lit up Sirius’ life had been wiped from the face of the Earth. He would never again hear his brother laugh, or watch as he let out his ear-splitting roar that set the ground shaking, or hold his hand through the hell that was their home.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

Sirius stumbled into a puddle, water sloshing into his shoes. He shivered, startled from his thoughts. Shit, he really needed to get inside.

But where to go? He had no friends, no colleagues he trusted enough not to slit his throat, and no family to speak of that wasn’t busy torturing a superhero. There was no place for him.

He glanced at his surroundings. Hogwarts Lane, read the sign for the road up ahead. The name rang a bell. He searched his memory, repeating the words to himself and questioning where he had heard that name before.

His personal files, back at Grimmauld Place. That’s where. Unlike his cousins, Sirius kept tabs in his room in HQ on every hero he had fought. He had all of their personal information, from residency to search history to favorite uncle.

Alpha Wolf, or Remus Lupin, currently lived at 1971 Hogwarts Lane. Alpha Wolf, the hero he had fought with more than any other. That wasn’t a coincidence. In fact, it was quite purposeful. Sirius would specifically draw out Alpha Wolf for a fight, just so he could talk with someone interesting and still keep up appearances with his family. Combat with Alpha Wolf was more enjoyable than with anyone else he had encountered, though the Stag and the Doe were close seconds.

Alpha Wolf undoubtedly hated him. That he was sure of. Yet the next thing he knew his feet took him strolling down Hogwarts Lane in the direction of his enemy’s house.

~~~~~

Remus was panicking. Full-on, giant-ball-of-nerves, jumping-at-every-tiny-noise, questioning-all-of-his-life-decisions panicking.

The Celestials had captured the Stag. James, his best friend, his brother, was being held captive by two insane super villains and their friends—or family, it was rather unclear—and likely being tortured, possibly to death. His chest constricted. Breathing was an effort.

The Doe had called him not ten minutes ago hyperventilating. He didn’t blame her. How could he, when he was in the same state? Lily had hated James for years, had criticized his methods, and now when she had finally started to consider her feelings for him, he was ripped away from her.

He needed to rescue James, but he didn’t even know where to start. No one who knew would give Alpha Wolf the location, and even then he had no way to get past the security. Fuck. He was in such deep shit.

He rested his elbows on his desk, rubbing his forehead. How the hell was he going to work out this one?

A sound caught his ears. Footsteps. There was someone in his room behind him, trying to be quiet. Unfortunately for them, they had forgotten to account for Remus’ heightened senses.

He whipped around and slammed the invader against the wall, hand at their throat. His other hand flicked on the light switch.

Even without the eye mask, Remus recognized the man instantly.

“Alpha Star,” he growled. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here.”

Alpha Star coughed. Remus loosened his grip slightly, but he didn’t take his weight off him.

“I know.” His voice was solemn. “I heard about the Stag.”

“Oh, so you weren’t a part of the capture?” That was news to him. He had assumed Alpha Star would love to hurt someone important to Remus. “You just really enjoyed hearing about his defeat then?”

“Please, I’m not here to fight.”

Remus gave him a look, incredulous. “We’re nemeses. We don’t get timeouts.”

“Just this once?”

Remus narrowed his eyes. There were so many warning bells going off in his head, yet Alpha Star looked sincere.

“Remus, please.”

His heart stopped. No one except for Stag, Doe, and Rat knew who he was. “How do you know my name? How did you even find this place?”

Alpha Star smirked. Remus fought back the urge to slap him.

“I have a file.” He started speaking in monotone, reading like a robot. “Remus Lupin, son of Hope and Lyall Lupin. Alias: Alpha Wolf. Former address: 1960 Mischief Lane. Birthday: March 10th. Former romantic relationships…” He trailed off. “Need I go on?”

Remus swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. “Please don’t.”

Alpha Star’s grin widened. “Trust me, if I was here to kill you, you would already be dead.”

Remus wasn’t sure he was convinced, but he backed away nonetheless. He had defeated Alpha Star before, he could do it again.

None of this was making sense. A super villain was in his bedroom, and they were… chatting?

“Fine. You’re not here to kill me,” Remus conceded. He moved into a defensive stance. “We’re still arch nemeses. We fight. It’s what we do.”

Alpha Star sighed. “Okay, I understand that, but what if we… didn’t? What if we just… I don’t know… hugged instead?”

It was official. One of them had gone insane. Remus had yet to decide who it was.

“I. What.”

They were enemies. What the hell.

“Why do we have to fight? Neither of us want to!”

“What, so instead of fighting from now on we just cuddle?” This was absurd.

“Uh. Umm.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re enemies. I should be trying to kill you right now.”

“But why?” There was an edge to his voice. “Why do we have to be enemies?”

“Because you tried to bomb the Golden Gate Bridge!”

“I see your point. But at the same time… you don’t know the full story.”

“You would have killed hundreds!”

Alpha Star’s eyes darted around, scrambling for words. “But… I didn’t.”

“Because I stopped you!” That day had been terrifying—working to disarm a bomb while also trying to capture him.

Alpha Star nodded. “And it was easy, wasn’t it?”

That… was actually true. The bomb had been surprisingly easy to disarm, and Alpha Star had barely put up a fight, though he still managed to get away. Come to think of it, it had been far too easy. “What are you saying?”

He spoke slowly, careful to choose his words. “I’m not saying anything. Only that you’re a master at foiling my plans.”

Remus thought it through. He had never once had a real problem defeating Alpha Star, even though he was objectively more powerful than any of the other Celestials. Had he actually been helping Remus the whole time?

He looked towards Alpha Star, the unspoken question in his eyes.

Alpha Star just smiled. A small, pained smile.

“Fine,” he sighed. “No fighting. Why did you come here?” That part still made no sense.

“I lost my brother today.” He paused, an emotion Remus couldn’t read scrawled across his face. “My family could have saved him.”

A small, sympathetic part of Remus’ heart broke for him. He knew what it was like to lose family. Friends. He knew how it broke a person, forced them to desperate measures.

Still. Alpha Star was his nemesis. He wasn’t so sure about this whole hugging concept. But perhaps, if what his enemy said was true, then he could be helpful…

“Fine. You get your hug. On two conditions.”

Alpha Star perked up almost imperceptibly.

“One. You tell me your name.”

His answer was instantaneous. “Sirius Black.”

Sirius. So that’s where the super villain name came from.

“And two. You lost your brother today.”

Remus looked into Sirius’ eyes to make sure he had his full attention. This would be no easy feat, and he needed to be sure Sirius was entirely with him.

“You’re going to help me get mine back.”

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araniaexumae · 5 years ago

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when the music dies out (you should still take me home) - chapter 5

Hello ! I hope you are all safe and feeling okay. I hope my little story can make your day a little brighter <3

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS UNDER THIS TAG

READ ON AO3

Dumbledore thanked them, signaling the end of the meeting. Lily, James and Sirius exited the room, the latter still acting like a human barrier between the first two. Once outside, they stood in a circle, Lily holding up the documents their old headmasters had given them so everyone could see.

“I think the second meeting room is free, we should probably go there.” She suggested.

“Yes, what a great idea, Evans.” Sirius replied.

She gave him a tight-lipped smile, apparently deciding not to answer, before turning away and walking towards the aforementioned room. James hit Sirius with his shoulder once she couldn’t see them, hoping his ‘I can handle this myself’ expression was clear. Sirius seemed to understand James’ intention and responded with a roll of his eyes. They had grown up together - there wasn’t much that they couldn’t convey with a purse of their lips or a furrowed brow.

The two men followed the red-headed witch to the meeting room. By the time they had caught up with her and closed the door, she had laid out all the documents on the biggest table and was poring over them. James observed her for a while before approaching. It was impossible not to be reminded of the same girl, a little more than one year ago, studying for an arithmancy test or researching the characteristics of a potion ingredient. She held herself differently now. She stood a little straighter, a little colder. James took a deep breath, making himself stop daydreaming about the girl he once knew to concentrate on the plans of the house.

Sirius was in front of the table already, bracing himself on his hands and leaning over the parchments, his fingernails tapping on the wood every now and then. James walked forward to stand next to him and the other man stepped slightly to the left to make space.

“Can you stop that?” Lily asked Sirius, staring at his hand.

Sirius didn’t gratify her with a response, instead starting to hum under his breath. Lily looked at James, her eyebrows raised. He could tell she was silently asking him to intervene. He looked away.

He had decided to be mature and act professionally. However, he hadn’t taken any decision involving Sirius, and if he was honest with himself, it was satisfying to see his mate avenging him, even in the pettiest ways possible.

Lily sighed, going back to looking at the map. Her hands were rolled into fists on the table, her nails surely digging into her palms. James wished he didn’t mind seeing her so tense. He wished he didn’t have the urge to take her hands in his, to rub her knuckles with his thumb so she would stop hurting herself. He gave Sirius a subtle kick with his foot, and the latter stopped the noise. Finally, they concentrated on the map.

The Carrow estate was huge : four storeys, one main wing and two lateral ones, and an infinity of windows. Unfortunately, all of them would be securely closed from the inside, and there were definitely detection wards who would alarm the owners of the house if one were to break the glass. Scaling the facade to reach the roof seemed unlikely, since neither of them were particularly good climbers, and the chance of being seen was too high.

Lily took a spiral bound notebook and a muggle pen from her satchel and started to write things down. After watching her for a few seconds, James guessed she was listing the different types of wards and security measures present on the map. Once she was done, she silently accio-ed a few books to the room and sat down on the side opposite from them, opening a worn copy of Walsh’s Protecting your home from Nifflers and other invaders and flipping the pages until she reached a useful chapter. She kept jotting things down in her notebook, circling a few words here and there and underlining the most important things twice. She always used to do that. James smiled as he recalled that time he’d tried telling her that one line was more than enough to emphasize a word but she had protested, adding a third one to prove her point.

James went back to looking at the map with Sirius, exchanging a few ideas, none of which turned out to be feasible. They were whispering, unwilling to break the quiet that had settled over the room.

James was relieved. Working together with Evans didn’t seem so impossible after all. He didn’t know why he had even been so worried in the first place. After all, he didn’t like Benjy either and he still worked with him regularly. He’d handle it just fine.

Sure, he didn’t feel the physical need to look at Benjy every five minutes.

And Benjy had never broken his heart.

Okay, so maybe the situation was slightly different. Maybe addressing the situation would be healthier than ignoring it. But ignoring it had worked so far. And nothing had to be done today. He could always talk to her tomorrow. Or later. He hadn’t decided yet.

James had been so engrossed in his own inner debate that he hadn’t noticed the object of his turmoil standing up and walking to stand just a meter way.

“Can we talk?”

#krysfam #jordansfam #mayashpfam #jily #jily fanfiction #jily fic #wtmdo #my stuff #my writing

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imagitory · 5 years ago

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Tory Ranks the HP Films! [review]

Hi everybody! So I was chatting with a good friend of mine the other day about our favorite films in the Harry Potter series, and...well, the whole discussion got me thinking, so I decided to jot down my personal rankings!

I’ll just discuss the eight films based on the original books for this, but if you want my thoughts on the Fantastic Beasts series so far, you can read this FB-centric response and this review for CoG! These rankings are unique to me, but will be affected both by how much I personally enjoy the movie as well as how well it adapted its respective book. Hope you enjoy -- if you want, feel free to like and reblog, and of course reply/reblog with your own thoughts about the HP films!

8) Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

I’ll be honest, I was torn between this film and the one just before it as my personal worst, but in the end, I had to acknowledge that this one, out of all of the films, was just the least interesting of the lot, not just from a story perspective but also in the visuals and music. Everything was so gray and murky and dark: the only faintly creative visuals I really remember from this film were the inky effects in the Pensieve scenes (which didn’t match up with the established continuity of previous Pensive scenes) and the juxtaposition of a bird’s cage in the corner of a shot where Draco is walking down the hallway, and the only music track I remember liking at all was the choral piece In Noctem. Plus the plot itself was pretty tedious, as the filmmakers apparently decided that the book’s romantic side-stories were more worthy of focus than the main villain’s entire backstory. I mean, come on -- Harry making goo-goo eyes at Ginny and Ron being a complete idiot when it comes to the girls in his life is somehow more interesting than Dumbledore and Harry learning about the Gaunt family, Tom Riddle’s past as a neglected, but vindictive bully, and Riddle turning objects that meant something to him into Horcruxes, which sets up the Golden Trio’s quest to find them in the next book/movie? Good call on that one. Speaking of Riddle, the two new actors that were cast to portray him in this movie are also easily the worst performers in the entire series, and the completely unsubtle, black-and-white characterization of Riddle in the script didn’t do them any favors. After how much Voldemort was built up in the films, Riddle being so ridiculously obvious in how evil he is makes everyone around him (like Dumbledore and Slughorn) look like an idiot for not seeing he was bad news from the start. This film makes me a lot less angry than the #7 slot, partly because HBP is my least favorite of the books, but it also prompts just about no positive feelings either, and if there’s anything Harry Potter has never been, it’s “boring.”

7) Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

*dodges knives* LOOK. I know this is a lot of people’s favorite HP film, and I understand why. From a cinematography perspective, it’s easily one of the best. It’s very pretty to look at. The shot composition is excellent. The visuals are creative and striking. But all of that beauty is at the cost of the story and characters. Not only does Hermione become even more of an idealized Action Girl, losing even more of her wonderful, three-dimensional book characterization and flaws -- not only does the film break away from every bit of continuity established from the previous installments or even within its own film, from changing the layout of Hogwarts and the students’ uniforms to having Harry constantly light up his wand with magic no problem only ONE SCENE before getting punished for using magic outside of school -- not only does it make no sense unless you’ve read the book, given that the script just assumes that you’ll remember details like Lupin and Snape having seen the Marauder’s Map, which explains how they knew Sirius and the Golden Trio were in the Shrieking Shack -- not only does it add things that I don’t like and really don’t think fit in the established Wizarding World like the shrunken heads and a slide projector being used in Snape’s DADA class -- not only did this film depict its characters blatantly showing off their supposedly “secret” magical artifacts with no repercussions, such as Harry under his Invisibility Cloak stealing a lollypop from Neville and whamming through a crowd of people and Hermione not even trying to hide the Time Turner around her neck -- not only did Ron lose one of his best scenes in the entire series, where he stands on his broken leg yelling at Sirius that he’d have to kill him and Hermione to get to Harry, and was downgraded to the point that he pretty much became dead weight -- not only did Lupin’s werewolf form look more like a half-bald monkey than the hulking, terrifying mass I’d wanted to see -- not only did Lupin and Sirius talk to Harry about Lily almost exclusively and barely mention their best friend James -- not only was everything Crookshanks did except him chasing Scabbers left out -- not only did the script never explain that Lupin, Pettigrew, Sirius, and James were the Marauders and the reason behind the pen-names -- not only did the film originally MISSPELL “MOONY” WHEN IT WAS WRITTEN DOWN IN THE FRIGGIN’ BOOK -- but this film ruined the best part of the entire story. The descent into the Shrieking Shack and the revelation of who really betrayed the Potters took three whole chapters to unravel because of how much information was revealed and how many emotions were packed into it...yet the film decided to spend less than TEN MINUTES on that three-chapter-long plot twist. TEN. And most of the exposition dialogue was shouted haphazardly across the room in about five minutes of that time. It’s honestly little wonder to me that director Alfonso Cuaron originally hadn’t wanted to read the book before making the film and had to be convinced to do so -- he clearly was more interested in putting his own stamp on the story than respecting what was already there in the books or even in the previous films, and although yes, the darker tone and more unique visual style did help the series in the long run, I just wish that it hadn’t been done in the adaptation of my favorite book in the series. Azkaban deserved a more faithful adaptation than this.

6) Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

In a way I almost feel bad for the filmmakers trying to adapt this book. GoF is the longest in the entire series and arguably has the most subplots and tiny important details casually slipped into the text out of all of them, which would be difficult to adapt in a three-act feature film. I can’t help but feel it should’ve gotten the halfsies treatment the way Hallows did, given that it would’ve been difficult to fit every little important thing into one movie, even a long one. That being said, though...yeah, this film really is incoherent unless you’ve read the books. How do you even try to tell Goblet’s story if you’re going to cut out all of the Crouch family’s backstory? Answer: by revealing the twist ending in the first ten minutes by showing Crouch, Jr. is alive and turning him into an uninteresting, one-dimensional character, I guess. David Tenant is a wonderful actor and he could’ve been a wonderful Crouch, Jr., but in this adaptation he had just about nothing to work with. Then of course they also cut out Winky, Dobby, Hermione’s SPEW movement, the Quidditch World Cup game, Bertha Jorkins, Ludo Bagman, Percy Weasley joining the Ministry, the Weasley twins and Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, Rita Skeeter getting her comeuppance, and Crouch, Jr. getting Kissed by dementors before Fudge could hear his testimony about Voldemort’s return. I also wish they hadn’t turned Cedric, Viktor, and Fleur into such one-note, one-dimensional characters either -- Robert Pattinson got the most to work with out of the three actors, but the characters still seem very shallow compared to their book-originals, and considering Viktor and Fleur get no further development in later films, their characters pretty much start and end with the little material their actors get in this movie. Even Voldemort’s depiction I’m somewhat torn about: I like Ralph Fiennes as an actor, but I had sort of hoped he’d look a little scarier and that he’d have red eyes the way he had when he was attached to Quirrel’s head in Sorcerer/Philosopher and as described in the book. As much as I sympathize with how difficult the task was to adapt this story, Warner Bros. still could’ve made a longer movie and kept in more of the stuff needed to understand what was going on. Still, there are some good visuals in this film and I like a lot of the new music tracks, too.

5) Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1

The Hallows films overall I sort of just see as “okay,” mainly because they and Prince’s adaptation are so dark that at some points I think they forget what made the stories so likable in the first place -- namely, the characters. Sure, we can’t have as much humor here, but where’s the love? Where are the distinct personalities, where’s the friendship? And really, one of the few answers this film gave was in that OOC Harmione dance scene, which...yeah, not only did it have no romantic chemistry (which I suppose I should be glad of, as that would be even more OOC than the scene already is), but it also had very little friendship chemistry too. It was just awkward and stilted to watch. Even Ron’s return wasn’t as strong because the film adaptations went so far out of their way to marginalize Ron and not make him an important part of the trio...so yeah, contrasted to the book where Harry and Hermione mourned Ron’s absence, the awkward dance scene attempting joy and failing miserably just falls even more flat. There are some good moments, like Luna and Harry interacting at the wedding and the break-in at the Ministry, and there’s a lot less stuff cut from this film than in others, but there’s also a lot less that I can say I loved in this film than in others.

4) Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2

Part 2 is pretty even with Part 1 for me, as it doesn’t cut as much out but also left a lot to be desired. Because of the lack of explanation about what things Voldemort would turn his Horcruxes into, Harry has to rely solely on deux-ex-machina visions to tell him what to do next, Harry breaking the Elder Wand felt like such a cop-out, and the Battle of Hogwarts, although not bad exactly, really never showed off the scale of the damage and loss the way it could’ve. Fred’s death isn’t even given its proper screen time! But at the same time, I found more memorable scenes in this movie -- the Room of Requirement confrontation, McGonagall taking charge before the Battle of Hogwarts, the ending at Platform 9 3/4 that actually used the Leaving Hogwarts track from the first movie the way I’d dreamed that they would when I first read the book -- and of course every moment of Alan Rickman as Severus Snape. Yes, Rickman portrayed Snape as a much more likable, much less gray character than he was in the books, but he was still wonderful to watch every second he was on screen.

3) Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s/Philosopher’s Stone

I acknowledge nostalgia might play more of a role in my judgement of the first two films, given that I was a young teenager when they first came out...but I’m sorry, aesthetically, Columbus’s films were the most true to their source material. The darkness didn’t really start in the books until GoF, and since Cuaron jumped the gun on the darkness in Azkaban, we lost that gradual fading of the light from the original novels. And really, the Wizarding World was charming! It still is! And with the departure of Columbus, we kind of lost that charm in future films, even during the parts that were supposed to be less dark and gritty. We never got it back, and yes, one could see that as somewhat reminiscent of childhood innocence -- but I disagree, charm can be appreciated at any age. Even in my darkest days, I still could appreciate it. If anything, charm in the midst of despair and gloom became all the more precious. But regardless...Sorcerer/Philosopher is one of the most true to its subject matter -- it really does depict things almost exactly the way I’d imagined them while reading the book. The score John Williams wrote for the first two films in particular made everything feel just as magical as when I was first reading the first two books, and as the films went on, we lost that recurring score that favored the reuse of certain themes to instill various emotions: instead we just got individual themes for each film that were rarely used outside of that particular film. But I acknowledge Sorcerer/Philosopher doesn’t take nearly enough risks, the details cut so as to compress scenes sometimes create plot holes (like Snape protecting the Stone and supposedly bullying Quirrell to find out how to get past his defense, even though both their challenges were not included in the film), the CGI is pretty outdated, and a lot of the child actors were at the beginning of their learning curve. Really, the only stand-out performances among the child actors in my opinion were Tom Felton and Rupert Grint -- Dan had his moments, but Emma and a lot of the more minor actors like Devon Murray as Seamus at points sounded like they were acting in a school play. And when you placed those kids alongside great adult actors like Robbie Coltrane and Richard Harris, it could be a bit jarring. Still, I’d be lying if I said I don’t really enjoy watching this movie, almost as much as I did when I watched it as a kid so many times that after a while I could recite the entire script from memory.

2) Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

I was fortunate enough to see this film opening night with my mum and best friend at the time, and really, Chamber just built on Sorcerer/Philosopher’s cheesy yet charming, book-loyal formula. Like the previous film, there are some important details cut and not that many risks taken from a visual or film-making perspective and the CGI often doesn’t look that great (Dobby in particular hasn’t aged that well), plus some of the scenes aren’t that well-directed (i.e. the fight between the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams lacked any real anger or energy, and even the Dueling Club scene was oddly slow and lacked excitement)...but even so, I think the child performances are better here, and we got a lot more scenes with excellent adult actors like Jason Isaacs as Lucius Malfoy, Julie Walters as Molly Weasley, and Kenneth Branagh as Lockhart. I also laugh a lot watching this one! Lockhart gets a lot of his great, funny lines from the book, but young Rupert Grint also shows a great talent for comedy that, I must be honest, is kind of lost after Chamber, as he becomes less of a distinct character who happens to say funny things and more of just a wimpy, tag-along sidekick who’s often made the butt of a joke. Even now, my mum and I smile at the memory of watching the film in theaters and laughing and cheering with the rest of the audience when Lockhart cries, “Amazing! This is just like MAGIC!”

1) Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

This film adaptation is based off my second favorite book in the series, and as much as it cut from that book, I think it overall captured the spirit of the book the best out of the series while also making a visually distinctive film. Yes, it cut out Marietta Edgecombe and the moral grayness her inclusion represented, Sirius’s passive-aggressiveness, pettiness, and cruelty toward Kreacher and the depth that it gave him as a flawed father figure, Harry’s lashing out at Dumbledore and how real it made both Sirius’s loss and Harry’s grief, Percy’s alienation of his family and the exploration of the cost of standing by one’s ideals, Neville and his family at St. Mungo’s and the pathos and complexity it gave his character, Umbridge running Hagrid out of Hogwarts and McGonagall being injured and how much that cut Harry off from the Order, and Umbridge’s revelation that she’d sent the dementors after Harry and how neatly it tied up all the loose ends. But at the same time, I hated Umbridge in this film just as much as I did in the books. I felt the sorrow of Sirius’s loss just as much as I did in the books. I felt the satisfaction at seeing Neville grow through joining the D.A. and becoming a more three-dimensional, heroic character despite his shortcomings just as I did in the books. I felt for Trelawney when she was being forcibly evicted from Hogwarts just as much as I had in the books. I felt the triumph of the Weasley twins’ rebellion against Umbridge just as much as I did in the books. I felt the camaraderie of Dumbledore’s Army just as much as I did in the books. I felt the love that Harry had for his friends and believed in both his hopelessness and his desire to fight for them just as much as I did in the books. And yet there were also film-only additions that I really liked -- the emphasis on Harry’s friends being the reason he resists Voldemort’s control, the montage of Umbridge sinking her Inquisitorial claws into Hogwarts, the music written to accompany the scenes at the Ministry and featuring Umbridge, Sirius punching Lucius Malfoy in the face and calling Harry “James” by accident. Even in a visual sense, it wasn’t too dark and gritty, but not too rosy and colorful either. Yes, this film had dark moments, but it never lost sight of what the original book series was about -- not the doom and gloom, not the action and thrills, not the drama and intrigue, not even the flights of fancy, but the love. What even are our heroes fighting for, if not the ones and things they love? Why do we even care? Why would we even watch any of these films at all, if not because of the love? In Order, I never forgot what Harry was fighting for. It balanced out the doubt and fear with kinship and nobility, just as I felt the books always had and the films often didn’t. So as many important details are shaved off, it at least still felt like Harry Potter. Not perfect, but hey, what adaptation is?

#oh boy here i go #analysis #reviews #opinion #harry potter #harry potter and the sorcerer's stone #harry potter and the philosopher's stone #harry potter and the chamber of secrets #harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter and the order of the phoenix #harry potter and the half-blood prince #harry potter and the deathly hallows #harry potter and the deathly hallows part 1 #harry potter and the deathly hallows part 2

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writingwitchly · 7 years ago

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The little loop

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Word count: 2k

Warning: sadness / mentions of war

A/N: So. SO. Soo. S O. The new Tumblr mobile actualization is being a total @#$%, school is asfixiating me, my sleepless hours keep getting worse, my brain isn’t helping, and I’m surrounded by t e n s i o n s, with a 105% of probabilities of receiving the whole bad mood discharge on my head... A real fun ride. Anyway, this is for @herondalesucks, cuz we need more sweet beans in this world and we should thank them when we meet any. Enjoy!

“Honestly,” you pant as you drop the grocery bags on the kitchen’s counter, “You didn’t miss anything too thrilling.”

The clinging cans and ripping of plastic fill up the silence that follows your remark, until your friend finally speaks up,

“Anything would be more thrilling that constantly looking at these same walls, Y/N.” Her head is bent over the rest of the shopping bags, but you can guess her sad expression by the off tone in her voice.

Yesterday, as Sirius and you attended a party at Marlene’s place, thinking about your redheaded friend’s comments if she had been there made the firewhisky’s usual burn bitter, and the same taste now invades your mouth after lying to her. The night was quite something. A moment of escape in the darkness of the actuality.

A little strangled sound coming from near the sink wakes you up from your reverie.

“Oh Lils…”

In a swift movement, your friend buries her face in the crook of your neck and, for the first time in years, she lets her feeling flow in salted water.

The Potters have been hiding for now exactly ten months, with the prohibition of participating to friend gatherings, Order missions, and any other type of outside trips -- including grocery shopping, which you’ve taken care of today as Batilda needed some rest.

For the energy balls that are Lily and James, this boredom is literally a synonym of long and painful death.

“Listen,” you whisper in her ear as you caress her flaming hair, “We’ll fix this, okay? Sirius and I will stay over tonight, so we can try to cook something special and then play some dare games.”

With a childish smile, she pulls away from her hideout, but still grasping to your waist as to life. “And can we build sheet-and-chairs forts and have a pillow fight and sing songs by the fireplace?”

“Of course,” you laugh, “Just like in the old days.”

Her heart a little lighter now, you decide to resume your emptying of the plastic bags, without much of a result as James storms in after a little while.

“Y/N!”

His rib crunching hug is worthy one of Hagrid’s, and it startles you the double as it comes from behind your back.

“Ow- James.” You pat his hands, and end up trying to get them off you.

“‘m so happy to see you,” he says excitedly, his tic of pushing his glasses up on his nose freeing you.

“Me too,” you breathe for air more than you say, red in the face.

The young man standing in front of you looks as clumsy as he did back in your teen years, which builds up his part of his charm, but you note some new seriousness deeply rooted in his eyes. It certainly is a consequence of having to deal with his responsibilities as an adult, then a husband, and finally a father, but you know for sure it is also the result of all you had to face right after getting out of your golden years, right after life as you knew it split into burning hell and awkward chaos.

“What are you two doing here? We’re waiting for you in the living room!” he asks.

“Well, we still have to…” His wife gestures toward the kitchen’s counter, where a considerable pile of food still waits to be stored in the cupboard.

You glance at her puffy eyes and the dark circles that underline them. It seems like all of the energy has been drained out of her body, which before was athletic and brisk, and now still is, but in an exhausted way. Her usual playful expression is just a shadow, a ghost that can be remembered only by those who have witnessed it in the past, and you’re not sure that her formerly joking voice can produce anything now but neutral comments or motherly encouragements.

Trying to ignore the feeling of pity that Lily would be ashamed to know she inspires you, you gently grab her wrist. “The cans won't fly away, Lils, let’s go.”

Still sniffing, but with her fine pink lips stretched in the attempt of a smile, the young woman nods.

As you turn toward the door, your mind registers a look of complicity traveling from her to her husband, but you don’t give it much importance. Couple things, you think. After all, you too have similar expressions sometimes.

“Where’s my little Harry?”

The living room, sunken in a semi-darkness when you arrived a while ago, is now lightened by reduced magical fireworks, much to the eleven-months-old baby’s amusement. Tiny fingers try to catch the bright glows, Harry’s young mind surely making up stories of its own to explain the bizarre shots of lights that he keeps failing to grab.

By the child’s side, on the carpet, Sirius lies on his abdomen, wand swirling to direct the fairy-like spots from his godson’s nose to the roof, and back. The huge grin of happiness plastered on his face, so different from the usual expression of worry that now accompanies him everywhere, tightens your chest. He keeps shouting at Harry, encouraging him to stretch higher to get to his goal, already teaching him the right attitude to face life. When the baby’s giggling convulsions involuntarily throw him off-balance, the man’s hand is there, always, to catch and steady him, which leads to more roaring guffaws and chirp-like laughter.

“Are you okay?”

Now, the roles are flipped: it’s Lily’s time to ask, and James’ turn to pat you.

Tears run down your cheeks, but you couldn’t place the emotion that generates them. Your heart is heavy with a mix of admiration for such a tender scene, for such a pure love. But also with the sight of your boyfriend playing with a baby -- a child that maybe, one day, you two will have the chance to mother too -- and acting like a father. And, unfortunately, the knowledge that this could happen outside, under a warm sun, in the green garden of a happy house, in a world at peace.

You used to think bitterly about having to fight at your young age, about seeing your dreams crush in the perspectives of suffering, about your colored horizon suddenly being replaced by a scale of dark, shapeless sorrow. But looking at Harry, at his pure green irises and his messy hair, you understand how much more he will have to face, growing in a world where innocence is replaced by uncertainty. How much braver he will have to be. And, even if you’re not a seer, even if you can’t declare prophecies like the one that links this infant’s path to that of evil and agony, you have the feeling that he will indeed be.

A warm chest pressed against your back causes your tensed muscles to relax, an exploit that only Sirius can achieve lately.

“Don’t cry, darling,” he whispers in your ear, “Or I might cry too.”

James and Lily take it as a joke, and chuckle a bit. So do you but, deep down, you sense truth in his words. This is a time when everybody, even the strongest, are susceptible of breaking down.

“I’m sorry,” you say gloomily, rubbing what’s left of the tears from your face.

Harry’s moans attract your attention, and you crouch down to take him in your arms, his naive wide eyes warming your interior.

“What do you guys think about putting Mr. Potter Junior to bed and cooking some pasta?” you ask between to pecks on the baby’s fleshy arms.

“Not yet.”

Not yet? You thought that Lily wanted to get a bit distracted.

“Yeah, not yet, Y/N,” her husband seconds her, scratching the back of his neck. “Harry still has a- mission to complete.”

“A mission, Harry?” you smile as you tickle the child’s belly. “What can it be?”

“You can tell Y/N now, Harry.” Sirius’ voice is warm and excited.

James starts shifting his weight from feet to feet, exaggeratedly beaming at you or his son, you can’t tell. “Come on, Harry, tell her to say yes.”

Even Lily seems affected by whatever got into the boys, because she repeats the Word yes over and over as she caresses the baby’s feet.

Harry’s innocent look bounces from each one of you to the next one -- probably not understanding what is going on, like me, you think -- until it finally comes back to his balled fist, which he starts munching.

Immediately, you are assaulted and the child is ripped from your arms.

“He’s going to swallow it!”

“Open his fist! Open it!”

“Don’t you- It’s not here!”

“Harry, spit!”

“Come on, Harry, listen to Daddy!”

“I told you this was the hell of a bad idea!”

In the agitation, neither of the three notices a small object falling on the floor. As you bend down to retrieve it, you distinct its silvery color in contrast with the red carpet. You take the little circle between two fingers and expose it to the light of the still moving fireworks.

Wait a minute: a circle?

“Sirius?”

Three heads jerk in your direction.

“Wha-”

“Surprise, darling.”

Everything, everything, in this moment is perfect. Your boyfriend’s goofy grin, his blushing cheeks, his glowing eyes, your friends’ relieved expressions, Harry’s bubbly drooling, and the little metallic jewel in your hand.

“Sirius, is this a marriage proposal?” you ask, feeling your skin prickle.

“Is this a yes?” he answers, as nervous as you are.

You’re grateful that nothing stands in the way, because you would have knocked out even a dozen of Death Eaters to get to him right now. Your body collides with his in a kiss that you hadn’t shared in a long time. It’s one of those passionate affection demonstrations you used to give each other in your first years as a couple, but that were now replaced by constantly covering each other’s back or worrying to death because of the other’s delay.

You feel his mint breath on your upper lip, and his teeth tugging your lower one. How long had it been since you last took the silky texture of his hair between your fingers? Apparently, he feels the same about the presence of his hands on your waist, as he hugs you tighter.

Your friends have the delicacy to look away until you two finish kissing, which takes so long that James rolls his eyes when you do. “There is a minor in the public.”

Lily pinches him with her free hand, and drags him toward the kitchen despite his waits and I want to see her say nos.

Your chest heaving up and down is on perfect synchrony with Sirius’, and your arms are still safely locked around his neck.

“You didn’t answer, darling.”

“Well, you didn’t properly ask, Black.”

He tries to suppress a smile, but fails.

How is it that you can still, and always, win?

“Fine.” His fingers softly force your hands open and grab the little cold loop from it. With a meticulous slowness and a wink that makes your heart melt, one of his knees reaches the ground, while the other, like his eyes, look up at your face. “Y/N L/N. To honor all the years of mutual love we have demonstrated each other, and still plan to do, would you grant me the-”

“Do you want to marry him or not?”

James’ intruding face quickly disappears back through the next room’s door frame, and through your giggling you hear Lily scolding him.

“Sirius Orion Black. It is with great pleasure that I-”

“Yes! She says yes!”

“James!”

“But Lily- If I hadn’t helped them, these two would still stealthily look at each other with fish eyes from the opposite corners of the room!”

“So would you if Y/N hadn’t stepped up!”

“What does this mean?”

“That they can handle their own thing by themselves.”

Ignoring their discussion, Sirius slides the shiny ring on your finger, enjoying the sight of it.

“Ready to become a Black, Y/N?”

“I’ve always been, Sirius.”

Permanent tag list: @miss-nerd0905 @funnymrspotter @obsessionsandothersandmore @daytodayfun @electraheart-isdead @laurenslines

Sirius tag list: @glitteryfreakslimeegg

#Sirius Black #sirius black fanfic #sirius x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black one shot #sirius black x reader #marauders era #marauders #hp #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #hp fic #marauders imagine #jily #***writingr

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oimoi-op · 4 years ago

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@thenightling I never said it was "deep." I think redemption is subjective because not all wrongs are equal; a pickpocket getting redemption is not the same as a mass murderer getting redemption. Just like feeling genuinely apologetic for something you've done doesn't earn you the forgiveness of the people you've wronged, you doing good things later in life doesn't necessarily negate the wrongs you've done, either. It's a very simple mindset, albeit not a very romantic one. I don't really see why it's stupid, but then it can be hard for me personally to forgive people when they've hurt me. It's possible that it's hard for me to be objective regarding this particular topic due to my own life experiences, but it's my stance, so I respectfully disagree with you there.

And everyone does have their own interpretation of media. Javert (or at least book!Javert) is a bit of a strawman so I don't really see him as a good example in this particular situation, but readers can still sympathize with him due to his nature as a tragic character—and the same can be said for Snape, of course—though I would hope they wouldn't agree with his views. It doesn't necessarily matter what the author or creator intends compared to how the audience perceives the work. This can be a problem, of course, such as when people condemn The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn as racist when you're supposed to feel outrage toward how Jim is treated throughout the novel, but it doesn't change the fact that not everyone will have the same perception of a work as the author or other members of said work's audience. It can definitely be frustrating, though.

I do believe in redemption. I do like some redemption stories. I would like to believe everyone is capable of redemption, but I'm not quite there at this point in my life. I don't think it's fair to suggest I simply don't believe in redemption or forgiveness just because I said that not all media with characters who get a redemption arc can convince me that these characters are actually redeemed. Besides that, I really enjoyed reading your take on sacrifice and atonement, though. You're obviously very passionate about this topic, and I always like to talk to people who genuinely care about their beliefs. Personally, while I think how you die is important, I think how you live is even more important than that. While reading the Harry Potter books, I didn't see any instances of Snape trying to better himself as a person. He was bullied by James, and he in turn bullied others. He alienated Lily through his shitty behavior, and then he told Voldemort the prophecy despite endangering Lily's family in doing so. Yes, he was instrumental in stopping Wizard Hitler and he saved Harry more than once. Those are good things, and they show that there was good and the possibility of redemption in Snape. But then there was the child abuse, the enabling of bullies...I don't know. Those are things that are hard for me personally to forgive (and, again, since this is fictional abuse, I'm not morally superior to anyone who isn't as bothered by it, and people who insinuate that they are are wrong to do so), and it bothers me that he continued this behavior until he left Hogwarts, and I can't recall him ever showing regret toward his treatment of his students. Perhaps if Snape had improved himself and not continued to be a pretty fucking terrible person, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.

I'm not a fan of "redemption equals death." I personally prefer for characters to live with what they've done and improve themselves because this, to me, shows more of a desire to right wrong than "redemption equals death." In Snape's case, Harry seemed to forgive him, so, narratively, Snape is redeemed. Rowling intended for us to see him as redeemed. For me, it just didn't work. He died, and he did so for a good cause, but I don't think that negates his awful actions, and even his attempt to right his wrongs came across to me as being born out of selfishness more than a desire to be a good person or genuine remorse. If someone does something good but for the wrong reasons, does that change how we look at their good actions? Intent matters to me, and I just did not see an intent to better himself in Snape. I disagree that dying rights every wrong in every instance. I think if Snape wanted to atone for his past, he wouldn't have fucking abused the child of the woman he supposedly loved more than anything. Just treating his students well would have been atonement enough, I think, without even taking his death into consideration.

Edit: I just saw your edit, so I apologize for not addressing those points in my initial response.

There's nothing wrong with liking a character who is an asshole or disliking characters while still acknowledging redemption. I did not mean to insinuate that. You can like problematic characters, and I dislike the purity police who say otherwise. It's just, for me, specifically me, Snape's redemption in particular did not work for me. I found it to be unconvincing regardless of the author's intent. This isn't "I don't like Snape so I don't see him as redeemed because he is an asshole," this is "I don't like Snape and I was unconvinced by his 'redemption' because the writing did not work for me."

I don't see how I've done or said anything to suggest I don't value human life. I would have rather Snape lived and worked toward being a better person, personally. I was not happy that he died; in fact, I remember being depressed because, like Javert, I saw him as a tragic character who could've been a good person. I just don't think dying means everything wrong has been put right.

I am unfamiliar with the OUT fandom, to tell the truth, but I did not mean to come across as a moral guardian or the purity police in the slightest. Problematic faves are a thing, and no one needs to justify them liking a character. I don't dislike Snape or feel as though his redemption arc fell flat because of moral reasons but because of personal preference when it comes to media.

I can never understand how Snape apologetics can stand up for him when he CANONICALLY does this shit.

I can maybe, maybe, understand those who haven’t read the books standing up for him, because honestly the movies don’t cover all the horrible stuff he does. But those who have read the books and still stick up for him baffle me.

I mean, you don’t see anyone sticking up for the Dursley’s or Umbridge, when they do the same stuff to Harry as Snape. How is Snape any different?

#thenightling #discussion #harry potter discourse

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fuckkerydicckery · 6 years ago

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What if the Potters Really Lived | Part two

Lily Potter looked at the hands of the clock slowing moving after every minute passed by, for now, six months Lily and her family were stuck in the Weasleys home, protected from the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord was after her son, Harry and to protect their boy and themselves they had to hid in safety along with a secret keeper. At first, the Potters were going to choose Peter Pettigrew as their secret keeper as he would be the last person the Dark Lord would choose. But after Severus Snape told the Potters the truth of Peter they had to quickly find a substitute, so he suggested the Weasleys.

Lily did enjoy staying with the Weasley family, there was never a dull moment within the household. For safety and security reasons only Arthur Weasley was allowed to leave this house on a daily basis, the other members had to stay home- unless they had permission. Lily helped Molly Weasley with many of the household chores, it was the least she could do. The Weasleys were nothing but generous throughout the last six months, they risked their lives every day. Most of the time Lily was thankful for the Weasleys. But today she couldn’t stand being stuck and trapped inside and around the backyard. She wanted to see Sirius and her friends, she wanted to go out and about with her baby and husband.

The Dark Lord was still at large, no one knew how to stop him. Dumbledore said he had an idea but it wasn’t one hundred percent. Everyone within the wizarding community was trying to figure out how to stop the Dark Lord. The minute the Potters stepped into the Weasleys house, Arthur and Molly joined The Order. Only Arthur could go to the meeting but he would always tell Molly and the Potters everything that was said at the meeting and then Arthur would share their opinions at the next Order meeting. Each meeting seemed more and more intense for Lily, everyone was on their tips of their toes trying to figure out how to stop the Dark Lord. As well another big topic was how to deal with Peter Pettigrew. Within hours of Snape showing up at the Potter's front door, Peter was captured and immediately sent to Azkaban. No one knew what to do with Peter, they were worried somehow the Dark Lord would help Peter escape and as well they were worried Peter would transform into a rat. When Peter was captured one of the Potters close friend- Sirius Black fessed up saying that Peter was an illegal amiganus- along with himself and James Potter. The ministry of magic managed to create a spell within Azkaban that stopped Peter from transforming, but they were not one hundred percent sure the spell would be strong enough.

Arthur did inform the Potter's that Horace Slughorn, a highly skilled potions professor was trying to create a potion that would completely disable Peters ability to transform at all. When Severus Snape heard what Slughorn was doing he immediately decided to join Slughorn as he was very talented at potions. So far they had figured out how to disable the ability for a few weeks, but nothing longer than that. Lily shared her input with Arthur so he could share with Slughorn and Severus as she was once Slughorn's favourite student. Lily still couldn’t believe that Peter Pettigrew betrayed them, she couldn’t even comprehend her emotions. She didn’t know if she was sad or if she was angry or even confused.

Harry got along with the Weasley children very well, he had a very strong connection to the youngest boy- Ron. Lily could see them run around the house laughing and yelling as they played. Sometimes the two twins would pull pranks on the little ones, they, of course, were harmless but it made Lily think of James and his friends when they were at Hogwarts. There were two other boys- Charlie and Bill. Charlie was much older then the boys so he was mostly alone, Lily would sometimes play a card game or James would have a conversation with him about Quidditch. Sometimes they would fly around the backyard, even at a young age, Lily could tell Charlie would be a brilliant Quidditch player. As for Bill, he was attending Hogwarts. Molly trusted Bill would not spill any information, as well, Dumbledore was headmaster so she knew that he would keep Bill in check. Lily was started to grow close to the Weasley family, they were more than friends in Lily’s heart. Once the situation ended Lily knew they would still be incredibly close, as Harry and Ron would be in the same year when they finally attended Hogwarts.

When the clock struck five, Arthur came home. Most of the days he came home at two sharp, but on days there were Order meetings he came home at five. Just even after six months of knowing Arthur Weasley she could see how he aged so quickly, he was only a few years older than her and James and already his hair was graying and he was just starting to go bald. He shuffled inside the living room and threw his overcoat and briefcase on the floor and went to kiss Molly.

“Arthur how many times do I have to say, put your damn coat on the hook!” She told Arthur, returning his kiss. The minute Arthur came home Molly became more energetic, Lily knew that she was only worried that he wouldn’t come home one day. Arthur laughed at Molly's comment and went to find his sons. Charlie was out flying with James, Ron was playing with Harry somewhere, and the twins were in their rooms. Arthur looked disappointed that his sons weren’t running to greet him home but he plopped down on a cloth couch in front of Lily. Molly joined Arthur on the couch snuggling close to Arthur. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to his body. Lily could sense their love was so strong, it was too obvious that Arthur loved Molly more than anything and vise versa.

“So honey any important news?” Molly asked, you could tell she didn’t want any news but she had to ask.

“Shouldn’t we wait for James?” Arthur asked Lily.

“I can just tell him later,” Lily replied, but as she replied James walk inside the Burrow, without Charlie.

“I saw Arthur come in.” James told the group, “Charlie should be coming in any minute now. What's going on?” James pulled up a chair beside Lily, gripping her shoulder. Lily turned to smile at her husband. She couldn’t believe how quickly James grew up, he went from a reckless teenager to a wise dad and adult. She was proud of her husband but also sad for him. He grew up too quick, his best friend betrayed him, as well he was stuck within the perimeter of the Weasleys home.

“Sirius and Remus both say hello, they miss you incredibly so,” Arthur informed Lily and James. It made both of them incredibly sad that they couldn’t see their two best friends. Lily knew James missed both Sirius and Remus incredibly, as before they talked every day and saw each other at least twice a week.

“Everyone is alive, so that is good. But there was some incredible news today.” Arthur breathed, “Dumbledore figured out how to stop the Dark Lord.” Molly pulled herself away from her husband and stared at him, James leaned forward from his seat barley on the edge, and Lily remained perfectly still.

“What do you mean? How can they stop the Dark Lord!” Molly hesitantly said.

“Dumbledore discovered something, it’s a long story. But he learned that the Dark Lord has been making Horcruxes.” Arthur informed the group. Lily was trying to think what Horcruxes were but she couldn’t point her finger at them.

“What are Horcruxes Arthur?” James quired, looking confused.

“In the short story, the Dark Lord has been splitting his soul into objects. It’s incredibly dark magic, as I don’t even know how to perform the task. Dumbledore refused to tell us how to do it as he said it was too much for him to even say out loud. The Dark Lord cannot die unless all his Horcruxes are destroyed. So the next mission for the Order is to hunt down the objects that could be the Horcruxes. Dumbledore has his suspensions so he has already sent members to the places where some could be. But if we do find all the Horcruxes a simple spell could essentially kill the Dark Lord.” Arthur slowly explained. Lily absorbed every ounce of information Arthur was telling them. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. As he was explaining she remembered briefly learning about Horcruxes but nothing valuable or anything more to add then Arthur had said.

For half an hour the adults talked about more information that would help them at the next meeting, all of them were now on the edges of their toes. Within a few months, everything could go back to normal, the Potters could go back to their home. That part made Lily said, she would miss the excitement of the Weasleys home, as well as having a girlfriend and not being surrounded by Sirius, Remus, and James. Lily knew that finding the Horcruxes would take months to find and then somehow destroy but she had high hopes that Dumbledore's predictions were right. Once Charlie entered the house everyone decided to end the conversation, Molly went to the kitchen to start supper. Lily followed her into the kitchen and started to peel potatoes with Molly. Soon everything would be normal- hopefully.

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littleoldrachel · 6 years ago

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Seventh chapter is (finally) up! Read it here on ao3, or here on ff.net, or under the cut. 100 Ways to Say I Love You Summary: In which actions speak louder than words, Sirius and Remus sort of fall in to a relationship, and even though neither of them have said those three all-important words, they both know it anyway.Or: 100 Ways to Say I Love You by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Previous | chapter 7/100 - “I dreamed about you last night.” | Next

Based on this post by p0ck3tf0x

Tw for anxiety, depression, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts and ideation, the vaguest references to past suicide attempt, generally appalling mental health, references to eating disorders, self-hate and negative comments about weight.

“I dreamed about you last night”

Remus wakes with his mouth stretched in a silent scream, limbs taut, stomach churning, to find –

Nothing.

Obviously, nothing; it was a dream, and that was all – or maybe, judging by his state of being, a nightmare – the details of which are fast slipping through his fingers. His heart thuds painfully in his chest, and it’s an effort to untangle his fists from where they’re clenched around his sheets. The flashing images are already losing their vividness – if only his lungs could get the memo that it wasn’t fucking real, get over it. He forces in deeper breaths, counting them slowly out, and in, like he’s been taught, and then chugs the glass of water on his bedside table, as soon as he thinks he can down it without choking. A little dribbles down his chin and neck, but the cool liquid settles like a weight in his stomach, grounding him a little more – enough to glance across at the clock and see 02:37am glowing back at him.

For fuck’s sake – twice in one night? He drags a tired hand down his face, wondering just how much of this he’s supposed to take. How much more can he take, before he gives in and tries something else, because this is frankly ridiculous. The doctor had warned him that upping his medications would affect his sleeping patterns, but he can’t remember the last night of unbroken sleep.

(When does this end? When does he get to resign from this mental health shitstorm – when is he allowed to drop out?)

He does his best to halt that line of thought right there, knows that he’s only thinking it because he’s exhausted and running on the fumes of sleepless nights, knows where those thoughts lead.

(It’s too late. The dark, empty ache in his chest is back, heavier than ever – how can such an empty feeling press down on him enough to make him feel like he’s suffocating?)

The uneasiness that lingers from the nightmare sinks its claws in to Remus’ brain, and he’s spiralling; the black murkiness that drags him down so often these days clings to his vision, and out of it, crawls the all-too-familiar worthlessness despair hopelessness hate hate hate –

His lungs are tight again, only this time it’s like something’s sitting on his heart, restricting the air in his chest to frantic gasps, and he knows what he wants to do – what he needs to do. The urge to hurt himself is a fierce, burning, boiling need beneath his skin – to mark himself up in some way, so that there’s some kind of visible proof that the turmoil in his head is real and happening and valid – something that will make people not just listen, but hear him when he reaches out for help, something that will stop the doctors from brushing him off as “distressed, but not a pressing concern” –

He digs his nails in to his palms, willing himself not to scream. Instead, tears prickle in his eyes, and he is stretched too thin emotionally to even attempt to stop them from falling.

(You need to call someone, his mind supplies, as his coping mechanisms finally kick in, and he bites back the panic that swells in his chest, fills his mouth, squeezes his tongue, at the thought of someone seeing him like this, because he is past that, damn it). He fumbles for his phone, drops it twice, because his hands are sweating and shaking. There’s an awful moment where he does actually scream, because his fingers are trembling so much that he gets his passcode wrong three times in a row. The thirty seconds he’s locked out tick by so slowly, that Remus convinces himself that time itself has stopped, but then finally – finally – he hits the right combination, and is scrolling through his contacts in desperate, sweeping motions.

He slams the call button, and shakily presses the screen to his forehead as he waits. The ringing lasts four lifetimes, and the panic of what-if-he-picks-up-what-if-he-doesn’t-pick-up-I’m-awful-awful-awful rises so fast that it’s almost vomit-inducing. But then –

“Hello?” croaks a familiar voice, and Remus sobs quietly before he can help himself, as a bizarre relief-but-still-panic washes over him. He wades through the self-loathing that he’s woken a friend up at two in the fucking morning (selfish, selfish, selfish) –

“Prongs,” he manages, and hears James’ intake of breath.

Give me one second, Moony,” he whispers, and there’s movement at his end – a murmuring sound (presumably Lily) – and when he speaks again, his voice is still hushed, but Remus can tell from the acoustics that he’s moved rooms. “I’m here, love, talk to me.”

“It’s – bad – “ Remus gets out, digging ragged nails in to his forearms now, silently pleading for James to make it better.

“Breathe for me, love,” James keeps his voice gentle, and Remus obediently inhales, the rush of air dizzying. “Did something happen?”

“Bad dream,” Remus’ voice cracks, and he hates himself, hates that he can’t handle a stupid nightmare, hates how scared he is of what his life is becoming, but most of all, he hates how he’s nauseous with embarrassment, because objectively, he knows that this isn’t something to be ashamed of.

James doesn’t say ‘it’s okay, it wasn’t real, it’s over now, there’s nothing to be afraid of,’ doesn’t say any of the well-intentioned things that people tend to blurt. He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t make light of any of it, because James, of all people, knows that sometimes nothing is more real – nothing is scarier – than the inside of your head.

Instead, he says, “hey, did I tell you about what Lionel did at school last week?” When Remus pauses, he launches in to an embellished tale about a brilliant, but mischievous, pupil who had managed to put the school’s science block up for sale. Remus doesn’t pay full attention as to the details of how Lionel had pulled it off, but he allows the rise and fall of James’ expressive narration to wash over him, dragging him back to the shore and anchoring him there. When James finally finishes his story, he pauses for a few seconds, and says gently, “how are we doing?”

Remus inhales, relishing in how easy it is now, and leans back against the headboard. “Better.”

“Good.”

James lets the silence stretch out for another few minutes, and Remus closes his eyes, tipping his head until it connects with the wall with a thunk. His whole body is aching with exhaustion, but it’s not the kind that will allow him to rest, because whilst the panic attack is gone, the anxiety lingers in his chest and mind.

“What’s going on, love?” James says, and Remus curls his fingers in to his palms.

“I… I haven’t been doing well,” he says finally, and in spite of the blatancy of that statement, James doesn’t scoff. He makes a soft humming sound, a kind of ‘go on’ encouragement. “I can’t sleep. I can’t – everything hurts all the time. I – I – I –“ His chest is constricting once more, and this time he’s too fatigued and drained to even fight it. He makes a choked sort of gagging sound. “I don’t know what’s changed,” his voice cracks, and James takes a breath.

“Okay. Okay, love, keep breathing. Do you want me to come over?” His voice is carefully measured, and Remus knows that James would be here in a heartbeat if he asked. There’s a large part of him that is longing for James’ understanding silences, his warm hugs, and his gentle questions. But he can’t do that to him. Not when James has to be up in – he glances at the clock – two hours for work. Guilt slithers in to his chest to join the anxiety, and he truly does not understand what he did to deserve a friend like James.

Despite everything in his heart demanding the opposite, he says, “no. No, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure? I can be at yours in ten minutes. It’s not a problem.”

Remus squeezes his eyes tightly shut. “No. Honestly, it’s fine.”

James makes a humming sound, “okay. Fine. But I’m coming over tomorrow after school, and we’re gonna talk.” He says it with the same kind firmness that makes him such a popular teacher, and Remus – despite all the darkness inside him whispering that he’s not worth it – mumbles an agreement.

“Thank you.”

Remus can’t speak – if he does, he thinks he’ll start crying those huge, uncontrollable, wet sobs, and then there will be no stopping James.

“I love you, Moony. See you tomorrow.” James hesitates. “Please take care. I’ll have my phone on all day.”

Remus swallows hard, and the lump in the back of his mouth temporarily retreats to his throat. His voice is more than a little wobbly as he says, “I love you too. Thank you,” but he hangs up before James can say anything more.

He drops his phone on the mattress next to him without locking it. For thirty seconds, the room is semi-lit with a pale glow that casts horrendously elongated shadows against the walls, before everything goes dark. Remus’ chest feels simultaneously hollow and heavy, his head is swirling with anxiety and misery and self-hatred, his limbs are aching and leaden. He forces his palms flat against the mattress, ignoring the blood oozing from them that smears across the sheets. The thought of tomorrow’s – or rather today’s – arduous conversation further drains his energy.

And yet sleep is tantalisingly out of reach.

Sunlight is peeking through the blinds and shooting shafts of light across the room before he drags himself of the dark depths of his depression. It’s stale and stifling in here, but it’s far enough to the window that he can’t help but cringe at the thought of leaving the bed to open it. Throughout the night, he’s slid a little down the wall, and the awkwardness of the position has transformed the ache in his shoulders and back in to a full-blown burning pain. It takes an excruciating amount of time to summon the energy to move, but finally, he unsticks his palms from where they’re gummed to the mattress with blood, and shuffles in to a horizontal position. His phone is dead, but thankfully the charging cord is within arm’s reach, and he uses the last of his strength to plug the phone in.

When sleep does come, it’s the restless kind – the kind where you toss and turn with uneasiness, where you wake up feeling even more groggy and spent than before, where panic and fear jerk you awake every few minutes. It’s a throbbing pain in his lower stomach that finally wakes him for good, and it’s severe enough that he has to bully himself in to leaving his bed. Winky winds around his legs as he staggers to the bathroom. Doubled over, he retches over the toilet, but there’s nothing to bring up, and he dumps half a box of food in to Winky’s bowl before he crawls back in to bed with a hot water bottle, tears stinging at his eyes, because he hates this. He can’t keep doing this – he cannot.

Later that day, when he’s curled up in bed with a now-lukewarm hot water bottle clutched against his stomach, and surrounded by copious amounts of lemon and ginger tea, his alarm goes off to remind him to take his medication. It’s only as he’s popping the little blue tablets and swallowing them dry that he actually checks his screen, and he feels his tummy swoop pleasantly when he reads ‘Pads <3 (5 messages)’.

Pads <3 (11:13): hey, prongs told me things were rough last night [sad face emoji] i’m here for you [sparkling heart emoji]

Pads <3 (12:15): do you want company?? or snacks? cuddles? anything tbh

Pads <3 (14:56): moonbeam. i dreamed about you last night. and i don’t remember what it was about. i just know that you were there, and i woke up feeling so warm and safe and cared for. this is the way i feel about you all the time. you make me warm and safe and cared for

Pads <3 (14:57): you make so many people feel so much better, especially me. please don’t deny yourself the same love you show everybody else. we are here. we want to help.

Pads <3 (16:34): i’m sorry to do this bc you shouldn’t reply unless you want to, but if you could just let me know you’re ok/not alone it would rly help my gremlin brain i’m sorry

Remus feels the guilt curling around his gut as he realises that his silence is making Sirius anxious – the feeling contrasts sharply against the soft, tug-of-heartstrings that Sirius’ messages give him. Thankfully, his last message is less than an hour old, and he quickly taps out a reply:

You (17:19): hey, sorry to worry you. I’m okay, I’ve been sleeping a lot, sorry for the late reply

The reply comes almost immediately, and Remus feels another squirm of guilt at the thought of Sirius obsessively checking his phone for a response.

Pads <3 (17:21): moony! no no don’t apologise. how are you feeling? is there anything i can do??

You (17:24): no it’s okay. Mostly just fibro pain, it’s fine [smiling face emoji]

Pads <3 (17:25): i mean. that’s not fine.

Pads <3 (17:26): prongs said he’s coming to yours tonight… would it be okay if i tagged along?? it’s completely okay if not, i understand [sparkling heart emoji]

Remus hesitates, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Whilst Sirius has seen him at some of his lowest points, both physically and mentally, James had been the one he’d called for a reason. There are some things that only James knows, that only James gets – James is one of the only people he can tell when he wants to be dead, when he wants to hurt himself, when everything is just Too Much. Remus likes to convince himself that it’s because Sirius already has so much on his plate, but that’s doing both he and James a disservice, because Sirius is stronger than anyone gives him credit for, and because James has a multitude of his own issues. Remus owes it to Sirius to try, he knows that – after how open and brave Sirius has been with him lately, it’s time for Remus to pluck up the courage to do the same.

But not tonight.

His heart is heavy with self-reproach as he taps out a response, and even though he knows Sirius will understand, it doesn’t stop the shame from mounting.

You (17:35): I’m really sorry but I kind of need it to just be me and Prongs tonight? I’m so sorry

Padfoot <3 (17:36): no no no! no need to be sorry, i understand. i love you and i’m here if there’s anything i can do [sparkling heart emoji] xoxo

The weight in his chest doesn’t shift, but Remus stares at the ‘i love you’ for the longest time; no matter how loudly his mind screams that he doesn’t deserve anything good, the words don’t change. Eventually, he dumps the phone back on the mattress, and then takes stock of his bedroom wearily. The blinds are still closed, it smells vile, and there are dirty clothes and empty crisp packets littering the floor, twisted around clumps of cat hair. The rest of the flat isn’t much better, he knows, because he just doesn’t have the energy for washing up or cleaning or even cooking any more. He is well aware that it’s not doing his mental health, nor his waistline, any favours, but if he cared about that enough, then he wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place.

James is due in fifteen minutes, which regrettably isn’t long enough to turn his dank hellhole in to a socially acceptable abode, but James won’t care. James will understand. But that doesn’t mean he can’t make it even a little bit more pleasant, and so he drags himself from his bed, drapes himself in a blanket, and cranks the windows open in the apartment.

Winky comes running at the sound of movement, and he lets the guilt consume him for a moment at how shit of a cat-dad he is being right now. But the kitten is more forgiving than he deserves, purring as she rubs against his feet, and he reaches down to scratch at her ears. He half-heartedly picks up a few takeout boxes and empty cans from the floor, and changes Winky’s litter tray, before there’s a knock at the door.

Anxiety, which has been dormant for a few hours in the place of an awful apathetic depression, surges over him at the thought of the conversation he has to have now. His chest is painfully tight as he moves towards the door, and his heart picks up pace with his breathing.

James looks tired as he opens the door, but he perks up the second he sees Remus, flinging his arms wide. “Moony!”

Remus steps in to his embrace, leaning his head against James’ shoulder with a sigh. James smells like jelly babies and birthday cake and fresh-cut grass, and it’s overwhelmingly familiar and comforting. It eases the frantic speed of his heart and loosens the bands around his body a little. James sighs too, resting a cheek against Remus’ head, and says, “fuck, I’ve missed you.” Remus suddenly realises that he hasn’t showered in five days (disgusting, useless, lazy fuck), and steps back quickly, drawing James in to his apartment and closing the door.

“It’s been literally a week,” Remus points out, though he adds quietly “I’ve missed you too.”

James stoops down to pet Winky, even though it means he’ll be sneezing all night, and smiles up at Remus. “Exactly. A week without my moonshine.” He stands again, rubs his already-reddening eyes, and puts his hands on his hips as he surveys the room. Remus starts to apologise, because now that another person is here, he can see just how bad it looks, but James shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. No apologies necessary. You know I’ve been worse. Let’s clean up a bit though, yeah? It’ll help in the long run.”

Remus nods, ducking his head in embarrassment, and James presses a hand against Remus’ cheek, “stop spiralling. This is not your fault. D’you want to talk as we tidy, or d’you want to wait?”

Remus’ chest tightens in anxious anticipation. “Tell me about your day?” he says quietly, and James immediately obliges – of course he does, because this is James Potter, aka the best person he is blessed to know.

(He can’t help but feel awful at the fact that James has come from a long day at school, is obviously worn-out from a lack of sleep, and yet is now having to deal with his dysfunctional best friend. But he also knows that James would tackle him to the floor with a hug if he expressed any of that, and refuse to let him up until he relented).

(He knows this from experience).

Whipping a binbag from the cupboard under the sink, James begins to zip around the room, scooping up rubbish, with Remus trailing behind like a useless dead weight. Between the two of them (mostly James), they clear the room of trash, and James moves towards Remus’ bedroom to tackle that danger zone. Despite his best efforts, Remus’ movements are awkward and slow, because every time he twists, it sends shooting pains through his stiff limbs.

James catches him wincing as he exits the room with a grin, and his smile fades immediately. “Sit down,” he says sharply, and within seconds, Remus is cocooned in a blanket on the sofa with a heat pad pressed against his stomach. Winky bounds on to his lap moments later, preventing him from getting up again, and James looks irritatingly smug. Remus tries to protest as James goes back to cleaning, because he is truly Too Good for Remus, and James tells him to fuck off fondly.

When James finally declares his satisfaction, the flat is almost unrecognisable, and not just because the floor is visible. He flops down next to Remus, and tucks himself in to Remus’ side. (It’s different to how it is when Sirius does it; with Sirius, Remus thinks his heart might implode with bittersweet adoration, with James, it’s something equally warm, but without the unrequited romantic feelings).

Right on cue, there’s a tapping at the door, and Winky raises her head curiously as James hops up with far too much energy for a man who has just worked a ten-hour day. He returns with two pizza boxes, dropping one to the other side of Remus with an “it’s my treat.” Remus pops the lid to see a thick layer of cheese bubbling over golden mushrooms and roasted peppers, and his heart threatens to turn to the same consistency as the cheese.

“It’s kosher, don’t worry,” James says, already munching on his first slice.

“It’s not – you didn’t have to do this, Prongs.” His voice has gone embarrassingly croaky, and James fixes him with a stern look, only slightly ruined by the string of cheese dangling from the corner of his mouth.

(Remus swallows, and shoves down the voice that hisses that the last thing he should be eating is more takeout, that he’s already done enough damage with his depression binges, and that he doesn’t fucking deserve any of this. It’s easier to ignore with James pressed against his side than it was when he was alone and empty in his bed).

James keeps up a steady stream of chatter, chuckling at his own jokes as usual, and Remus soaks in his laughter, allowing it to sink in to his bones and gnaw away at his emptiness. Winky burrows further in to his lap, nosing the now-cold heat pad out of the way and replacing it with her own body heat. Her thrumming purrs as she naps go some way in settling his nerves. Eventually, their appetites sated, James turns to Remus with a more serious expression, and Remus’ heart sinks, even as his anxiety skyrockets.

“How do you want to do this?” James says gently, and Remus clenches his fists involuntarily. James’ eyes track the movement, and he says, “okay, maybe let’s start there?”

Remus forces himself to nod minutely, and the action is like a huge fuck you to the voices in his head – he physically feels, rather than hears, their clamouring and abuse falter for a moment, and it’s an oddly triumphant surge of satisfaction for such a small motion.

“Can I see your hands?” James says carefully. He waits for Remus’ assent, before gently turning Remus’ hands palm-upwards. Both of his hands cup one of Remus’, and the tenderness with which he’s being handled is enough to tug at his heart, because he is not worth such kindness. James’ expression remains carefully neutral as he takes in the harsh red marks, though Remus knows him well enough to catch the slight tightening of his mouth. Eventually, he places them back in to Remus’ lap, and folds the blanket over them, and says neutrally, “it’s been a while since you last did that.”

Remus nods, rubbing a hand over his face. “I – I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even register it until it was too late.”

“What made you do it?”

Remus blows out a long breath, and adjusts Winky’s position. “I was just – I was just so low and angry at myself. I just – I – I –“

“Breathe, Moony,” James says, tapping at Remus’ chest, and he nods distractedly.

“- I just wanted to hurt,” blurts Remus. “I wanted some kind of proof – that – that all this-“ he waves a hand around his head, “was real.”

“It is real,” James says immediately. “This shit is the realest thing you can feel.”

Remus unfurls his fingers, and stares down at the angry red marks. “I – I do – I know that. It just – I haven’t felt like this in a while. And it scared me.”

James is silent for a moment, and then says, “what else is going on in that brilliant brain of yours?”

“I’ve not been sleeping well,” Remus says finally, not meeting James’ unjudgmental gaze, because the compassion there will be too much. “My fibro’s been… fucking awful lately. Pain all the fucking time. I can’t get out of bed and everything is just so much and I’m gaining weight like crazy and I feel like fucking shit all the fucking time.”

“That was a lot of ‘fucking’s” says James lightly. “Keep going.”

Remus takes a shallow breath. “I’m just – unhappy –“ he gets out, and even those words leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Because what does he have to be unhappy about, really? He has the best, most supportive friends imaginable, and sure, he’s in love with a man who is the actual definition of ‘deserves the world,’ but at least he gets to spend time with such a kind, funny and brilliant person. He has two jobs that aren’t completely awful and bosses who are understanding when he needs time off, and sure, both are dead-end jobs that leach the soul out of him the longer he stays there, but it’s an income.

(He knows – he does know this – that this isn’t how depression works, that mental illness doesn’t just take a holiday when life is treating you well, but it doesn��t make it any easier to deal with when it does happen).

“I don’t understand why this is happening. Nothing’s changed. I’m not doing anything differently. It’s not supposed to be – I’m so tired.” His voice shakes and then cracks, and he swipes furiously at his eyes because he has no reason to cry about this, he’s not even sad, he’s just at the end of his fucking tether and he wants out.

James makes a slightly pained noise, and Remus realises with a jolt that his mouth is running a commentary of every self-deprecating and self-loathing thought in his mind. James’ arms have tightened around him, and Remus’ cheeks are wet, and it’s too much, it’s all – too much, he can’t, he can’t he can’t hecan’t –

The panic attack hits hard and fast – the only warning is the slight prickling in his fingertips, and then it’s like someone has sucked the very air from his lungs – he wants it to stop, he wants it all to stop. He’s vaguely aware of someone touching his shoulder, calling his name, holding his face, and he screams, wasting the last mouthful of precious air, because why won’t it stop. His head spins from the lack of oxygen and he can’t breathe, but he welcomes the black dots in his vision, because perhaps that will make everything stop.

(Please G-d, let everything stop).

It takes James a full hour to calm him down, he’s told later. As it is, Remus finds himself facing a tense-looking James, whose usually tousled hair is in a state of utter disarray. It’s hard to focus on any single detail – it all feels like too much; even the feeling of James’ fingers on his bare skin sends prickles of anxiety down his spine, and he shakes the contact off roughly.

James retracts a little further from Remus, too slow to hide the hurt in his eyes, and Remus could not feel guiltier if he tried. “Sorry,” he manages, the words are too big and too clumsy but it’s all he can cope with right now – even that small effort feels Herculean.

“It’s okay,” James says immediately, “how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Remus mumbles, his eyes sliding shut.

There’s a pause, and then James sighs, and it’s an exhausted, sad sound that makes Remus’ heart pang, because defeat is not a word in the James Potter handbook, but that noise sounded a hell of a lot like it. “Can I ask some difficult and kind of shitty questions?” James says softly, and even though Remus knows what’s coming – despite everything in him shouting the opposite – he nods.

James blows out a long breath. “Okay. Are you depressed?”

It’s easier to be honest with his eyes closed, because at least then he doesn’t have to meet James’ concerned and caring eyes. He shuts off the reminders that he has nothing to be depressed about, and nods again.

“Do you want to hurt yourself?”

Another nod.

Another pause.

“Do you want to die?”

And isn’t that the question? Because Remus knows what it’s like to actively want to die – to feel ready to make that happen – to make that happen. He also knows what it’s like to want to not exist – because the two aren’t the same thing at all. There’s a difference between the passivity of not caring what happens to you when you step in to the road, and stepping out in to busy traffic deliberately. Using past experiences as a measure of ‘wellness’ isn’t perhaps the best option, given his track record, but he thinks he’s more the former of the two. Things aren’t all bad all the time; there are pockets of happiness, when he can laugh and smile without feeling like he’s just used up all his energy to do so. Messages from his friends still make his heart warm, and spending time with them – provided he’s not in the mood where all he does is leech the good from the room – is a sure-fire way to make him feel loved. But at the same time –

He thinks back to the nights where he’s been to empty to even cry about how utterly shit he feels. The mornings where he can’t get out of bed for wanting to just not exist. The afternoons where he should be cleaning and working and living, but instead is just praying to G-d that He will make it stop. He doesn’t pray often, he isn’t even sure if he believes in G-d, but he does know that the interludes of contentment are not enough to outweigh the awful sinking feeling in his chest that everything would be better if he were just – dead.

(And doesn’t that feel like the most selfish admission in the world?)

As much as James does understand what it’s like to be so low that ending everything feels like the only way out, James is the one who came to them, trembling with nerves and wringing his hands. James is the bravest person he knows – often to the point of reckless gallantry, but that means he does not – cannot – understand what it’s like to be too afraid to admit what’s happening to you.

He’s been silent for too long – a mentally well person doesn’t have to stop and think about that answer at all, which says everything that he’s not able to.

“Can I hug you?” asks James, in a too-fragile, too-sad voice, and Remus aches to not be the one who caused it. Instead, all he can do his nod again, and a pair of arms wrap around him gently, tugging him against a warm, solid chest. James’ lips press against his unwashed curls, and Remus feels his chest hitch at the tenderness in the motion. “It’s going to be okay,” James says just as gently. “You’re not doing this alone. I’ve got you.”

Remus remembers saying the same words when their roles were reversed, and a sob rises in his throat at the memories of nights with James curled over a toilet seat and tears dripping in to the bowl, the unexplained absences after mealtimes and the permanent stench of cleaning product that hovered in the bathroom, the stockpiling of Jammy Dodgers that would disappear overnight every couple of weeks. James was never – could never be – a burden to them, but something in him won’t let him apply that same logic to himself, because the last thing he ever wants to be to his friends, is a burden.

Just as Remus had let James cry for as long as he had needed all those years ago, so too does James, and it’s only when Remus is all-cried-out (tears drying blotchily on his flushed cheeks, snot smeared under his nose and glistening on his arms) that James speaks again, his tone resolute.

“You and I are going to the doctor’s tomorrow morning first thing. This can’t go on.”

Whilst these are the words Remus has half been longing to hear, half been afraid of, he is nothing if not self-sabotaging, which makes him protest: “No – you have work, I have work-“

“This is a thousand times more important than work, Moony. I would choose you over any commitment every fucking time. When are you going to understand that?” He doesn’t give Remus time to answer, probably because he knows that Remus will give him some bullshit response about not deserving that kind of friendship, and instead ploughs on, “I can’t make you go. I just – I want you to care about yourself as much as you care about everyone else-“

“I’ll go, I think – I want to go,” Remus says, surprising even himself. James gapes at him for a second, and then swallows down the rest of his arguments.

“I – you – seriously?”

“I don’t think I can do this by myself,” Remus says, and the honesty hurts like pulling teeth with a string and a door knob, but it’s the truth.

“You’re not going to be by yourself. I’ll be with you the whole way, if you’ll let me.”

Remus swallows, and blinks back fresh tears, before nodding. James makes a pleased humming sound that Remus feels in James’ chest as he pulls him in for another hug. “I’m so, so proud of you, Moonbeam,” he whispers seriously.

(There’s nothing to be proud of yet, he wants to say. I haven’t done the hard part yet, don’t be proud of me for finally admitting I need help, again) –

“The hardest part was telling someone,” James continues, and Remus almost flinches at how well James knows him. “And you told me. You reached out for help – you would never have done that five years ago, and you know it. Cut yourself some slack, there is no shame in this.”

Remus nods – objectively, he knows this, it’s something he’s told his friends repeatedly after all, but in his current state it’s not something he can process. “What now?” he asks instead.

James takes the change of subject in his stride. “I vote that first you shower, because I love you, but you smell, and then we order more food and watch some happy shit until one or both of us falls asleep.”

Remus smiles in spite of himself. There are no words strong enough to describe how grateful he is to have a friend like James: unfathomably kind and strong, passionately protective of his loved ones, but also bluntly straightforward.

“Do you want me to invite the others over?” James suggests tentatively, once Remus emerges from the shower, feeling marginally less shit and a whole lot cleaner, and wearing something that isn’t pyjamas for the first time in several days.

Remus shrugs, “maybe just Padfoot and Wormtail? If you think they’ll want to.”

“On it,” says James, already tapping out a message to them both. “Don’t be stupid, of course they’ll want to.” Before Remus has time to argue, James grins up at him. “What am I ordering?”

“Oh. I shouldn’t,” Remus says automatically, shoving a threadbare cushion in front of his stomach, as if he’s only just become aware of it.

“Bull. Shit.”

“Prongs-“

“Is this your fucking doctor again?”

Remus looks down awkwardly, hating the view that this gives him. “Don’t you think it’s better to listen to the ‘fucking doctor’ who actually knows what he’s talking about?”

“Not if he’s trying to fat-shame you, then no.”

“He’s not – it’s not like that.”

James looks both indignant and frustrated, but he lets it go (for now), apparently deciding that he should pick his battles tonight. “Well, I’m ordering Chinese, and there will be enough for four, should you change your mind.”

Sirius and Peter arrive together minutes before the food. Peter is gentle as usual, pecking his cheek and folding him in to a warm hug, before pulling back and signing I love you without breaking eye contact. Remus responds in kind, and Peter beams the sunniest of smiles, before stepping aside to allow Sirius entry. Sirius holds his shoulders briefly and scans him in concern – Remus deliberately doesn’t curl his hands to hide the mess he’s made of his palms, and he sees the moment when Sirius catches it, but Sirius says nothing about it. Instead he hugs him fiercely, and murmurs, “I love you so much, Moony. You’re so fucking important to me.”

Remus nods, the emotion in his throat too much to use actual words, and allows himself to be pulled in to a cuddle pile on the sofa, tucked in to Sirius’ chest, his feet on James’ lap, and Peter massaging his aching muscles one at a time. There’s a brief but heated discussion about the movie choice, because some movies are frankly, shit, when you’re Hard of Hearing, Peter tells them, and James vetoes anything Disney, because he is already inundated with it at school, but eventually they settle on Matilda. They’re barely a third of the way through before the day’s emotional rollercoaster catches up to Remus, and he feels his eyelids drooping shut. Sirius leans down and whispers, “sleep. We’re here, I’ve got you,” and it’s like it was the permission he needed.

(He is still depressed, and self-loathing, and passively suicidal. But he has a support system that he could never have dreamed of years ago. He has the best friends in the world, who would bend over backwards to make him smile, he is warm and safe and fed, tomorrow he will start afresh with recovery, and most importantly: he doesn’t have to do it alone).

#littleoldrachel writes #writing #fic #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #100 ways to say i love you #depression #anxiety #panic attacks #tws galore!#self harm #mental health

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