#july 12

[shisasan]

𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟷𝟸, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟸 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹

[ID: July 12. Something moved me when I looked at her. END ID]

[tswiftupdatess]

🚨 “I Can Do It With Broken Heart” will officially serve as the 2nd single from ‘THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT’. (July 12, 2024)

It will impact US Pop & Hot AC radio next week, July 15th & 16th! (Hits Daily Double confirms)

[larrylimericks]

12Jul24

Three hundred and fifty-six days Since last we saw Harry on stage, But tonight a duet! For Ms. Nicks’ Hyde Park set, And a Songbird who’s now flown away.

[gipitothefrog]

Recovery

@wolfstarmicrofic

Word count: 607

***

The day Sirius came to James’ house was, if anything, a chaotic day.

Showing up at the Potter’s front door so badly injured he very quickly passed out from exhaustion and blood loss. Euphemia called healers to the house immediately, while James called for Remus and Peter. 

The second he uttered the words, “It’s Sirius,” to Remus, the boy had popped up out of the fireplace and rushed to Sirius’ side. Peter took a bit longer, considering he had to make sure his parents knew where he was going. Remus simply sent them an owl, saying,

“It’s too important for me to wait. They’ll understand.”

They did, thankfully, understand, and the next day they dropped off Remus’ things at the Potter’s. They were offered a room to stay in, but declined. 

“We don’t want to crowd the poor boy,” Hope explained.

Remus was frantic the entire time Sirius was unconscious; a few days. He would wake up in a cold sweat and rush to his side, but considering he insisted on having a bed in the same room as Sirius, this wasn’t a very far journey.

Sirius woke up around three days after he had arrived, and in the middle of the night. Remus called for the healers immediately, and then kneeled by the bed. 

“Do you need anything?” he had asked.

“Moony…” Sirius croaked, before promptly falling unconscious again. 

Remus promptly fell into hysterics.

“What if he doesn’t wake up? What if they hurt him too much? Oh, those bastards. I’m going to– I’m gonna–”

He was cut off by Fleamont’s hand on his shoulder.

“Best not say something that could get you in trouble,” he advised.

Remus ground his teeth, but stayed silent.

One of the healers who was checking on Sirius jumped in, telling them, “It’s quite normal for this to happen, no need to worry! In fact, it means that he’s fairly well on his way to recovering completely!”

Remus didn’t seem convinced.

When James came in to check on him the next morning, he found Remus still awake. He was nodding off, but then his head would snap back up to watch Sirius.

“Mate, you need sleep,” James told him.

“But what if he wakes up again and I’m not there?” Remus sounded so desperate, so defeated, it broke James’ heart a little. 

“How about I sit by his bed while you sleep, and if he wakes up, I’ll let you know.”

Remus nodded dejectedly and laid down to rest. James could tell he fell asleep immediately. He slept for nearly fourteen hours, which made James question how much sleep he had been getting over the past few days, even excluding the night before.

Sirius woke up a few more times over the next two days. He always did the same thing: ask for Remus, and then go back under.

The pattern was broken six days after he had first shown up at James’ house. He had startled awake, and said to a very surprised Remus,

“Hello, Moony. Do you think I could have some water?” Remus had stared at him in shock for several moments before exclaiming,

“He’s awake!” and promptly summoning a glass of water that he dropped, spilled all over himself, tried to clean up, and slipped and fell over. Sirius looked at him flustered on the floor, and began to laugh.

“Ow. Ow, ow,” he wheezed, clutching his side.

Remus glared at him. “I’m just trying to help. You don’t need to laugh.”

Sirius wiped away tears from the corners of his eyes, still slightly chuckling. “You always know how to make me feel better, don’t you Remus?”

[dailykafka]

— July 12, 1912 / Franz Kafka diaries

[happybirthday-unusannus]

Happy 4th Birthday to

“The Egg Smashing Game”

[lulublack90]

Prompt 12 - Gate

@jegulus-microfic July 11, Word count 993

He stared up at the main gate into Hogwarts, seeing it up close for the first time. It was his first Hogsmeade trip as a third year, and he’d decided to walk back to the castle alone. He’d seen the gate as the thestrals pulled the carriages through them, travelling to and from the Hogwarts Express. But he’d never had the time to leisurely admire the ironwork and the stone winged boars that adorned either side. They were some of the ugliest things he’d ever seen, but he could admire the craftsmanship that had gone into carving the stone. 

He found a comfortable place to sit and pulled out a sketchbook to draw them. He didn’t have much in the way of drawing materials. His mother would throw a fit if she found him devoting his time to such frivolous things. So he was stuck with an unlined notebook and a quill that he quickly transfigured back into the muggle pencil he’d snuck out and bought. He’d use them until they were nothing but nubs and sneak out again to get another one. It wasn’t worth buying more than one. If he suddenly had an abundance of quills, someone might end up borrowing one and they’d start asking questions. 

This one was about half used. It would last him until Christmas, he hoped. He put his pencil to paper and began.

He was lost in his work and didn’t hear the approach of a group of students. 

“Hey, Sirius, isn’t that your brother?” Peter called after the bounding boy in front of him. 

“Huh?” Sirius spun around, bringing James Potter with him, who was in a headlock under Sirius’s arm. “Oh, yeah, it is. Oi, Reggie!” He bellowed. Regulus startled and drew a thick pencil line straight through his drawing. He growled at the mess and used his wand to erase the offending line. 

“Go away,” He sneered at his brother as he tried to hide what he was doing, but Sirius was too fast. He snatched the notebook out of Regulus's hands and flipped it open. 

Sirius stared down at the first drawing in the book. It was of the window in the Slytherin Common room when the giant squid had a tentacle creeping across the glass. He flipped through the pages, his brow furrowing more and more. He finally looked up.

“Does Mother know about these?” Regulus thought he heard a touch of concern, but with Sirius, you never knew if it was genuine. 

“No, and nor will she, especially from you,” He snapped, getting into Sirius’s face, and jabbing him with his pencil in the chest. Sirius set his jaw and glared into his brother’s eyes. 

“Wow, these are really good,” Regulus’s head snapped to the person who’d spoken, forgetting all about Sirius. “No, really, they’re beautiful,” James smiled at him, his head at an odd angle as he peered at the upside-down picture in Sirius’s hand. 

“Where do you get the pencils from?” Sirius asked, holding up Regulus’s hand. Regulus snatched it back.

“I sneak out and go to the post office down the road,” Regulus confessed, daring his brother to say anything about it. 

“Wow, Reggie, I’m impressed. How has she not found them yet?” Sirius asked, eyes still on the pencil in Regulus’s hand. 

“I only get one at a time. Now can I have my book back? I want to finish before dinner,” Regulus held out his hand for the notebook. Sirius looked down as though he’d forgotten he still had it. James grabbed it and handed it over. 

“Here,” He said, a big stupid grin on his face. Regulus grimaced. 

“Thanks,” And opened his book back to the page he was working on and continued from where he’d left off. 

“Come on, I’m hungry, let’s go see if we can charm the house elves before dinner,” Remus said quietly, putting an arm around Sirius and leading him away. 

“Remus, I just watched you eat a week’s worth of chocolate. How can you still be hungry?!” Sirius barked out a laugh, but let Remus lead him through the gates and back towards the castle. Peter followed them, chuckling at Remus’s look of shock at Sirius’s statement. 

“They really are beautiful,” James said, leaning over to see the final touches Regulus was adding to the boar’s wings. “Do you really only have one pencil?”

“Yes,” Regulus answered curtly. Why was his brother’s replacement for him still hanging about?

“Alright then, see you around,” James said awkwardly. Regulus nodded at him and he left.

The following morning, an oddly familiar owl landed beside him with a messily wrapped parcel. He took it from the owl, who flew off hooting happily and opened it. Inside was a copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. 

He already had a copy, and he hadn’t ordered a new one. He examined it. Something was off. He took his wand out and waved it over the book. The book shuddered and fell open. Inside was a brand-new pencil set. They were all different degrees of hardness. From the thickest dark graphite to the lightest tips that would barely leave a mark. He ran his fingers over them, marvelling at them as they knocked together, making a clicking sound. 

A note was tucked underneath the pencils. He plucked it from the box and read the words written there in a messy, heavy hand. 

‘From your not-so-secret admirer. I hope I’ll get a peek at whatever you create from these. Enjoy, James.’ 

He couldn’t believe that the boy he’d never shown anything but contempt for would send him such a thoughtful gift. But right now he didn’t care. He took out his notebook and started sketching the black lake and mountains surrounding it with his brand-new pencil set. It was already looking better than anything he’d ever drawn before. Maybe he’d send it to Potter as a thank you. Maybe not. He’d decide later.  

[angelbambisworld]

Happy Heavenly Birthday to The Fox aka Eric Carr. You would have been 74 today. The KISS Army misses you dearly.

[fuckthispost-andhappybirthday]

July 12: Happy Birthday Annabeth Chase (Riordanverse)!!!!

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode illustrée, no. 28, 12 juillet 1891, Paris. Robe en foulard. Modèle de chez Mme Coussinet, rue Richer, 43. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney

La jupe, faite en foulard bleu pâle à pois bleu foncé, est garnie au bord inférieur d'un petit volant froncé en même foulard; le bord supérieur de la jupe droite est froncé tout autour. Le corsage court, à pointe devant, fait en même foulard, est garni d'une veste en lainage bleu foncé; les manches, très bouffantes en foulard, se terminent par de hauts poignets en lainage; le corsage est ouvert en cœur sur un plastron en foulard uni bleu pâle, froncé; col droit en lainage. La vest et les poignets sont ornés d'une broderie en fils d'or et soie bleu pâle.

The skirt, made of pale blue foulard with dark blue polka dots, is trimmed at the lower edge with a small gathered ruffle in the same foulard; the upper edge of the straight skirt is gathered all around. The short bodice, pointed at the front, made from the same foulard, is trimmed with a dark blue woolen jacket; the sleeves, very puffy in the same foulard, end in high woolen cuffs; the bodice is open in the shape of a heart on a plain pale blue foulard bib, gathered; straight woolen collar. The vest and cuffs are decorated with embroidery in gold thread and pale blue silk.

[shisasan]

𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟷𝟸, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟸 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹

[ID: July 12. Her face shone with so much intelligence that I found myself looking excitedly at her for several minutes. Something moved me when I looked at her. END ID]

[tswiftupdatess]

John Krasinski dancing to ''Shake It Off (Taylor's Version)'' on Lake Simcoe in new Rogers ad!

(July 12, 2024)

[thomastanker02]

Taken from Grace For The Moment by Max Lucado. God bless, Jesus loves you ✝️❤️

@cosmicfunnies @babyimlosingit @cottonpuffmouse

[strlyn]

ܢ ⠀ ⠀ ◌⃘࣭ٜ࣪࣪࣪۬   ㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓎢　　𓈒

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Heat drives Follies girls to a fire escape for rehearsals, July 12, 1922: Pearl Eaton, Marie Wallace and Leonore Baron, members of the Ziegfeld Follies, give pedestrians on the streets below an eyeful as they go through their daily rehearsals on the roof of the New Amsterdam Theater. With no air-conditioning. the extreme heat made it necessary to go outside.

Photo: Bettmann Archive/Getty Images

[musickickztoo]

Christine McVie  *July 12, 1943