#harry doing something impulsive and stupid

[bythepen98]

Doodles || Golden trio (ft. Snape)

No matter how many bashing fics I read (and I really do enjoy those sgshsn), these three will always be among my favorite friendships in fiction. Also wanted to include good ol Snape bc I can and I adore him.

I see their dynamic as very sibling-coded, very platonic soulmate type even. They're literally each other's ride or dies and I'm not kidding when I say that I wish I had that for myself :(

Also, redrawing movie scenes is easier than having to come up with original ideas. I might do that more often.

[godricgryffinsnore]

Found myself doing this is a boring class, thought it would be a cool fic idea:

YN writes her crush's initials on her wrist's pulse point and he finds out.

Harry/fem!reader

Ink and Impulse ♡ | H.Potter ★

"Look, I didn’t mean to fall for the girl who writes initials on her wrist like she’s living in a teenage diary entry… but then I found out they were my initials, and well — what was I supposed to do? Not tease her relentlessly and then fall hopelessly in love? Yeah, right."

pairing : Harry Potter x fem!reader

summary : Writing your crush's initials on your wrist is harmless… unless your crush happens to be Harry Potter, who’s absolutely insufferable once he finds out.

warnings : Light teasing and playful embarrassment, Secondhand embarrassment (Harry is a menace, you've been warned), Excessive flirting and wrist kissing, Mild language, Shameless romantic fluff, Ron being utterly clueless, Hermione being 100% done with everyone, Boyfriend Harry with zero chill. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

della's note : This was such a cute idea!!! Thanks for requesting lovie!

word count : 0.7k

navigation <3

banners : @/roseschoices and @/cafekitsune

It started as a stupid impulse. You were bored in History of Magic — and Merlin, no one should be blamed for what they do while Binns drones on about goblin uprisings. So you did what any mildly lovesick teenage girl with a quill and a wrist would do.

You wrote his initials.

Small. Delicate. Right over the soft thrum of your pulse point.

H.J.P.

And then promptly forgot about it. Sort of.

Well, not really.

You tried to forget about it, but it was hard when every glance at your wrist made your heart do a stupid little jump, and when every accidental brush of Harry’s hand made the ink feel like it was burning.

And of course, life wasn’t satisfied with letting you pine in peace.

No, because Hermione noticed first.

“Did you write something on your wrist?” she asked, peering across the breakfast table.

You yanked your sleeve down so fast it was like you’d been caught with contraband. “Nope.”

“Definitely saw a letter,” Ron muttered, biting into his toast. “A J or a P or something. Is it... a crush?”

“I—no!” you choked, already planning your dramatic escape. “It’s just notes. For class. Revision strategy.”

“Right,” Hermione said, too knowingly. “Because when I revise, I always write my O.W.L. material directly over my arteries.”

Before you could swat her with a spoon, a voice drawled behind you—

“Oh? What’s this about arteries?”

Your soul briefly left your body.

Harry Potter—your Harry Potter, the one with the mess of dark hair and eyes that always softened when he looked at you like you were made of something more than bone and breath—plopped himself down next to you with a crooked grin.

“Apparently,” Hermione said sweetly, “someone’s been doodling on her pulse point.”

“Oh?” he asked again, this time turning directly to you. “What were you doodling?”

You swore his voice dropped an octave.

“Nothing,” you said too quickly.

“Mm.” His eyes drifted to your wrist, half-covered by your sleeve. “So if I just... had a peek—”

You slammed your hand under the table.

“Harry James Potter, I swear on Merlin’s left sock—”

“Is it... my name?” he asked, and smirked.

That was it. That was the moment you realized you were doomed.

Hermione audibly gasped. Ron dropped his toast. Hedwig, wherever she was in the castle, probably looked up with a sense of psychic foreboding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered. “Shut up.”

“Oh, this is brilliant,” Harry laughed, practically bouncing in his seat. “You like me. You wrote my name on your skin.”

“Initials!” you hissed. “And I was bored!”

“You wrote my initials on your pulse point, sweetheart,” he said, absolutely reveling in your horror. “That’s, like, sixteen levels of emotionally unhinged. Are you planning our wedding, too?”

“I was bored!”

“I think I feel faint,” he said, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. “This is the best day of my life.”

You groaned and faceplanted into your arms, wishing for a time-turner so you could slap yourself three hours earlier.

And that should’ve been the end of it.

But no.

Because Harry Potter decided to become a menace.

“Hey,” he whispered in Charms, pulling your sleeve up. “Just checking if my name’s still there. Would be tragic if you moved on.”

“Hey,” he said again at dinner, resting his chin on your shoulder, “thinking about getting ‘(Y/N)’ tattooed. Right over the vein. Want to match?”

And the worst part?

He actually did it.

One evening in the common room, when everyone else had filtered out and the fire was flickering low, he sat beside you with a quiet smile, reached for your hand, and pressed a gentle kiss to your wrist. Right where the ink had faded.

Then, slowly, he unbuttoned his sleeve, turned his arm over, and showed you.

Your name. Right over his pulse point. Written in messy, inky letters.

“I figured,” he murmured, eyes on you instead of the ink, “if you’re going to walk around with my initials like that... I ought to return the favor.”

Your breath hitched.

“You’re horrible,” you whispered, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

Harry looked utterly pleased with himself.

“I know,” he said, brushing his nose against yours. “But I’m your horrible, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes, cupped his cheek, and kissed him.

Somewhere in the corner, Hermione muttered to Ron, “Finally.”

Ron just said, “Took him writing on his own arm, huh?”

[ruzz9]

Fifty Points for Your Dignity

Girl!DadSnape

Summary: They thought mocking Snape’s daughter would come without consequences. What sweet stupidity.

A/N: Today we got Snape in full paternal wrath mode ✨ I recently finished Prisoner of Azkaban, and honestly, Snape yelling here gives off the exact same vibes as when he scolds poor baby Harry in the book 😹 enjoy!

Content: Morally Grey Authority Figure, Public Shaming, Dark/Humor, Not Fluff, Awkward Tension, Snape Being Snape.

2,4k Words

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You’d gotten yourself in trouble again.

The cold leather of the chair in front of your father’s desk made you shiver even more. Not just because of its temperature, but because of what it symbolized: trouble—and that silent disappointment that always hurt more than any sanction.

Your body was barely wrapped in a white sheet, hastily grabbed from the abandoned classroom you'd just escaped. You had forced the lock on his office, and you knew it. It had been a desperate, impulsive act. But you had nowhere else to go. That place, dimly lit, its shelves packed with ingredients and jars full of things you didn’t dare look at, was the closest thing you had to safety in that moment.

And you were sure he would hate you for it.

It had all been a joke. A stupid, cruel joke. Someone lured you into one of the old, abandoned classrooms. Said there was something inside you'd want to see. You went in. Curiosity over caution. And in just two wand movements, a boy in a Hufflepuff uniform—face unrecognizable—snatched off your robe and ran off laughing. You dove behind a toppled bookcase, heart pounding, breath shallow. You couldn’t come out like that. You were left in nothing but your underclothes.

So many envied you.

“Favoritism,” the hallways whispered. “Of course she gets good grades, with a professor father and a Ministry mother.” But you knew the truth. You knew how much it cost you to keep up those grades. You knew that Snape didn’t just avoid favoring you—he was harsher, more demanding. And you, idiot that you were, still wanted to prove you deserved his approval.

The metallic click of the door burst open with urgency.

“Who the hell forced my lock!?” boomed the rough, icy voice you feared so much. “What are you—?”

His dark eyes locked on you, and his fury shifted instantly. From frustration to confusion. From confusion to something that looked like concern. He took a step toward you. Then another. When his fingers touched the edge of the sheet, his brow furrowed instantly and he replaced it hastily, seeing you had nothing underneath.

“What are you doing here?” he asked again, this time with a tone that bordered on demanding.

“Just this once, please…” you begged, cutting him off. Your voice was a broken whisper. “I just need a favor. Go to my common room and ask Inna, my friend, to bring me a uniform. I can’t go out like this…”

His eyes narrowed.

“You know perfectly well you’re not to ask me for favors. You don’t get privileges.” His voice was a blade, but something in his expression said it wasn’t all anger. He was genuinely worried.

“I know. But… this time, just this once.”

A heavy silence fell. His gaze dropped for a moment, analyzing you, calculating, and something inside him began to burn.

“Was it a boy?”

You felt your blood turn to ice.

“It’s not important. It was just a tasteless joke, that’s all…”

“Was. It. A boy?” he repeated, teeth clenched.

“I don’t want to make a scene,” you said, trembling. “It was some idiot. Hufflepuff, I think. Lured me in with a lie… took my robe. Ran off laughing. I hid. I didn’t see his face.”

Snape turned his head slowly, as if every muscle in his neck wanted to scream. He stepped toward the desk, his posture stiff, and stood there.

“Tell me his name,” he ordered. It wasn’t a request. It was a demand, low and clearly restrained.

“I didn’t see,” you answered at once—too fast.

His eyes turned back to yours, searching for the lie, unearthing what you didn’t want to say.

“Hufflepuff uniform. That narrows it down. It won’t be hard. One by one, if I have to.”

“No, Dad!” you interrupted urgently, sitting up even as the sheet threatened to slip. “Please. Don’t do anything. You don’t understand…”

“I don’t understand?” he repeated, his voice thick with contained scorn. “I don’t understand that some imbecile dared to humiliate you, to expose you like some joke? Believe me, I understand perfectly.”

“You’ll only make it worse!” Your voice broke mid-air, your desperation louder than any scream. You knew it. If he got involved, if Snape went after half of Hufflepuff, it wouldn’t be justice. It would be a scandal. One you’d never recover from. “I don’t want you to find him. I don’t want you to say anything. I don’t want people seeing me as the professor’s dumb daughter who needs Daddy to fix her problems!”

That stopped him.

Only for a second, but it did.

He pressed his lips together, restraining everything that boiled inside him. His hands clenched, as if trying to suppress his own impulsiveness.

“So you just stay silent? Hide? Let them get away with it?” His tone was cold and bitter, hard to swallow. “I didn’t raise a coward.”

“Nor a martyr,” you whispered. “Do you know what they’d do if you told? They would point me out more.”

Snape closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. He seemed to be weighing the weight of every word he was swallowing.

“If you tell me who it was…” he began slowly, as if the threat was forming on its own, “he won’t smile again this year.”

“I can handle this, Dad…”

A long silence stretched between you. He looked at you, like he had those few rare times before, not as a professor, not as the stern man everyone feared, but as the bond that connected you. As a father trying to be one.

You saw it: the dragon held back. The fury that could burn down all of Hogwarts to protect you—even if you never asked him to.

“I’ll get your uniform,” he finally said, voice rough and frayed at the edges. “Don’t leave. No one else must see you like this.”

He turned and walked toward the door, saying nothing more.

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Severus was not the kind of man who let things slide. Even less so when it came to his daughter.

You had begged him to do nothing, to let it go, not to turn it into a scandal. You'd said it with worry caught in your throat, wrapped in a sheet, your pride wounded. And he, against every instinct, had agreed.

But his mind wouldn’t rest.

He didn’t go to the Headmaster’s office. He didn’t launch a formal investigation. But he let a few words fall, in the right ears. Attentive, discreet professors.

“If any student has made improper use of enchantments in restricted areas, it is of my utmost interest.”

Nothing more. Nothing less.

He watched in silence. Began mentally reviewing the Hufflepuff students with all his intuition and innate distrust. He knew their faces, their behavior, their weaknesses. Those who tended to mock, to laugh behind others’ backs, or act with that arrogance he loathed.

Teenagers were, for the most part, a plague of foolish impulses and hormones. Especially the boys, with their crude jokes and easy laughter, as if the world existed purely for their amusement. The more he observed, the clearer it became: it had been one of them. One with little ethics, even less intelligence, and no honor whatsoever.

It was nearly a week later when, turning a corridor near the west tower, he heard it.

The voices came in hushed tones and muffled laughter, believing themselves safe behind the corner. Four students, half-hidden beneath an unused staircase, whispering in a conspiratorial tone.

"I swear she hid like a little rat," one of them mocked. "But I saw her. All of her. Those curves... I didn’t know the daughter of the grumpy old Potions master was that hot. Then again, with a mother like that, it’s no surprise where she got such quality..."

There were muffled laughs. An elbow nudge. A phrase that was never finished.

And then, silence.

Because Severus was already there.

"How curious," he said, with a calm so sharp it could have cut stone. "How peculiar that such inept and mindless young men can speak with such eloquence about matters that do not concern them."

The four froze. The air thickened immediately. One swallowed hard. Another tried to straighten up, as if that could save him. No one spoke a word.

Snape took a step closer. His robes dragged along the floor with the heavy authority they all knew.

"You were saying something about the old Potions Master's daughter?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly. "Or would you rather repeat your brave comparison between my wife and Merlin knows what?"

Silence.

Fear.

Mute desperation.

"N-no, professor... it wasn't..." stammered the tallest of them, his skin paler than blank parchment.

"Wasn't what?" Snape cut him off, slicing through his voice. "Wasn’t it your tongue I just heard rolling through the filth? Or was that merely your brain attempting to sound coherent?"

Snape’s black eyes locked onto the boy like daggers.

Then, without warning, his hand shot out. He grabbed him by the robe, just at the arm, with unexpected strength, and yanked him close—so close their faces nearly touched.

"Repeat what you said. I dare you," he whispered with exquisite venom, so softly it was worse than a scream. "Go on. One more word. I invite you."

The boy opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

The other three didn’t move. Petrified, terror rooted in their bones. Fear hung heavy in the air.

Snape shoved the boy back roughly, as if disgusted to have touched him. Then he turned on his heel, robes billowing behind him.

"Walk."

None of them dared disobey.

He followed with his eyes fixed on the backs of their necks, like an executioner leading them to their sentence.

They reached the center of the courtyard. The sky was gray, the wind whistled with a bite that pierced to the bone. The damp ground seemed to soften the tension, but no one was prepared for what was coming.

Snape positioned them with precision, directing them with his biting tone, one by one, aligned before him. His tall, dark figure loomed in front of them with sheer presence alone. And then, without raising his voice, but in an icy tone, he said:

“Take off your robes”

The four boys stared at him, confused.

“P-professor...?” one dared to murmur, not knowing if his words would come out as a plea or a question.

Snape stepped forward. “I said,” he barked, this time with a shout so dry, so deafening it made them tremble. “Take off your robes!”

A thick silence fell. The boys exchanged shaky glances. They hesitated.

But fear was stronger.

One by one, they began to remove their outer garments, hands clumsy and movements slow.

“Shoes, too,” Snape snapped.

They obeyed, their shoes landing heavily on the wet stone. Socks followed, tossed aside in silence. The underwear remained, but only because Snape hadn’t said otherwise.

By then, eyes had begun to gather. From the windows, from the arcades, from the corridors. Students crossing the courtyard stopped. The whispers grew louder. Some laughed nervously, others watched with curiosity. The rumor spread like wildfire, and more students gathered.

The boys, nervous and embarrassed, stood under the overcast sky—vulnerable, dispossessed not just of warmth, but of dignity. The chill bit at their skin.

Snape raised his voice again. Grave. Sentencing.

“Just as you exposed a young student to degradation, you will now be reduced. In front of everyone.”

He turned slowly, ensuring everyone present could hear him.

“These four will remain here, without moving, until noon. They will not sit. They will not cover themselves. And if any of them dares to run, I assure you, they will choose to return and complete their punishement willingly.”

It was then that the castle’s oak doors creaked open. Dumbledore stepped out. His stride was calm, but his blue eyes observed with judgment. He stopped at the edge of the courtyard, observing the scene.

“Severus,” he said without raising his voice, though every student held their breath at the sound of it. “What is this scandal?”

Snape turned slightly, not meeting his colleague’s eyes.

“A necessary correction,” he replied coldly.

Dumbledore glanced at the boys, aligned in a scene he didn’t yet understand. His brow furrowed slightly, and then he stepped closer to Snape, his voice dropping to a near-whisper:

“May I ask what these young men did?”

Snape raised his chin just slightly. The fury in his eyes still burned, contained by the discipline that ruled him.

“They humiliated a student. In the same way, Albus,” he said firmly, almost sharply. “Without decorum. Without humanity. Shamelessly, and with not a shred of respect for her or her family.”

Dumbledore watched him closely. Something in his expression tightened briefly. Something in his gaze revealed he understood —if not fully, at least the gravity of the matter.

“Am I to assume this decision... is personal?”

Snape turned to face him completely now.

“It is institutional,” he answered without hesitation.

A heavy silence settled between them. Dumbledore inclined his head.

“I understand your annoyance Severus... but I want you to bring this matter to my office, so we may address it properly. And please,” he added, almost with a weary sigh, “next time… consult me before taking measures of this magnitude.”

“If there is a next time,” Snape said, his voice low and bitter, “believe me... it will not be so merciful.”

Dumbledore nodded. Then he turned to the four students:

“You may get dressed and return to your common rooms.”

The four didn’t wait for a second command. They moved quickly, gathering their clothes, stumbling over one another, as the murmurs of the crowd swelled.

Snape said nothing. He didn’t offer a word. Nor an apology. He returned to his duties, leaving it clear to every student that there were things more fearsome than detention or a letter sent to your parents.

From a distance, you watched him pass. You didn’t know whether what you felt was relief, shame… or an invisible weight sinking into your chest. But you knew he had done it for you. And despite everything, you were grateful. And you had to admit. It was a bit entertaining.

[xuexing-lumi]

✨ Which Teddy Are You? — A Comfort Character Tarot Vibe Check (Channeled Characters + Songs)

Okay.....so you ever look at a fictional character and just go, “Yeah. That’s my emotional support blorb.” Whether it’s a chaotic sunshine bestie, a soft loner with 300 layers of emotional depth, or a mama bear energy who’d tuck you in with warm soup and affirmations your comfort character is you in disguise.

This tarot reading is not a fluff. We’re diving deep into the cozy corners of your soul to find out who your true comfort character is and more importantly, why you’re drawn to them.

Grab your drink, take a deep breathe and choose your piles

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 1

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 2

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 3

🌟𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 1 :Teddy looking into a mirror whispering “I’m home”

(The Sun, Three of Cups, Six of Wands, Page of Wands)

What vibe does your comfort character have ?

Oh you're that kind of soul.This pile is about those comfort characters who feel like your soulmates in joy and they bring sunshine energy, uplifting chaos, and that specific type of healing that comes from being seen. They make you feel alive.

The Sun is your spotlight card and your comfort character is golden retriever energy personified. They are warm, extroverted, full of life. The kind of character who’ll grab your hand and say, “Let’s go do something stupid.”

Three of Cups brings bestie energy. Think found family. Your comfort character makes you feel like you belong. They make you laugh when you're crying and dance when you're anxious. They’re the friend who takes your phone away when you're doom-scrolling and says, “Let’s go get boba.”

Six of Wands? Main character energy. Your comfort character is confident, admired, maybe even a little famous,but never arrogant. Their victory is shared. They want you to shine too. They cheer the loudest for you even if you’re whispering.

Page of Wands brings the firestarter vibes and your comfort character is creative, impulsive, always running on half a thought and full heart. They believe in big dreams, late-night car rides, and rewriting your story. They’d absolutely take the aux and play the dumbest hype song at 2AM.

Who your comfort character might be ?

Gojo Satoru (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Mingyu (Seventeen)

Jake Peralta (Brooklyn Nine-Nine)

Rapunzel (Tangled)

Luffy (One Piece).etc.

What does your comfort character what to say to you ?

"You’re not hard to love. You’ve just never had someone reflect your light back to you. Come on, let's chase joy together,even if it’s just for today."

Some channeled songs: “Sunflower” – Harry Styles, “Keep Driving” – Harry Styles, “Die For You (Remix)” – The Weeknd x Ariana Grande, “Love Me Right” – EXO, “Cool With You” – NewJeans

🌟𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 2 :Teddy in a car ride with friends

(The Hermit, The Star, Knight of Cups, Nine of Pentacles)

What vibe does your comfort character have ?

This pile is for the ones who’ve always had to be their own safe space. The kind of person who tucks themselves in after a breakdown and whispers, “I got me.” If you chose this pile, your comfort character is likely you.

The Hermit is the core card here and your comfort character is the quiet type. The type who disappears into themselves to process emotions deeply. They're introspective, gentle, a little melancholic but deeply magical. Think Joe Gardner from Soul, Itachi Uchiha, or Ayanami Rei from Evangelion. They might come off cold, but they're just observant, always feeling everything.

The Star says they’ve been through it. Like, burned to ashes and then chose to still believe in softness. They're your reminder that healing is nonlinear and that softness is power. They remind you of what hope feels like after the storm.

Knight of Cups brings in the emotional, dreamy, romantic vibe. Your comfort character says, “It’s okay to long. It’s okay to wish.” This is a character who doesn’t hide their sensitivity. They probably write poetry at night or stare at the sky for too long.

Nine of Pentacles shows they’ve built themselves from the ground up. Independent. Radiant. Maybe a little lonely but content with their solitude.

Who your comfort character might be ?

Toge Inumaki (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Haruka Nanase (Free!)

Newt Scamander (Fantastic Beasts)

Haku from Spirited Away

Jungkook, but like… Euphoria Jungkook specifically

What does your comfort character what to say to you ?

"You don’t need to prove your softness is real. You are enough in silence, in slowness, in stillness. Welcome home."

Some channeled songs: “Mirrorball” – Taylor Swift, “Saturn” – Sleeping at Last, “Slow Dancing in the Dark” – Joji, “Runaway” – AURORA, “Blue” – BTS (Jimin)

🌟𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 3 :Baby Bear smiling in a tent with Momma Bear

(The Empress, Ten of Pentacles, Six of Cups, Queen of Cups)

What vibe does your comfort character have ?

You crave comfort in safety. Your comfort character is nurturing, protective, and emotionally intuitive. They’re not just someone who makes you feel safe,they become your home. For this pile, your comfort character is that parental or elder sibling archetype, the kind that reminds you it’s okay to rest.

The Empress is the divine mother of the deck, they radiate warmth, creation, softness, patience. Your comfort character sees you even when you can’t say the words. They make tea, run you a bath, and brush your hair after a panic attack. They know what you need before you do.

Ten of Pentacles shows this comfort character may be connected to legacy, roots, or even a dream version of the family you never had. They’re the warm hearth in the middle of winter. Their voice feels like a lullaby. They’d never let you feel abandoned again.

Six of Cups is inner child vibes. Your comfort character holds your wounded inner child and says, “I’ve got you.” They are the friend, parent, or guide you needed when you were small. They don’t push. They soothe.

Queen of Cups is emotional mastery, your comfort character is deeply empathetic, dreamy, and attuned to unspoken emotions. They’d cry with you. Not to fix it. Just to say, “You’re not alone.”

Who your comfort character might be ?

Iroh (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

BTS Jin (as a brother/family archetype)

Sana (TWICE)

Yuki Sohma (Fruits Basket)

Baekhyun (EXO – especially in “Moonlight” era)

What does your comfort character what to say to you ?

"You are not a burden. You never were. Lay your head down. Let someone hold the weight for once."

Some channeled songs: “Love In The Dark” – Adele, “Forever Rain” – RM, “Sweet Night” – V, “Home” – BTS, “Mom” – Kim Sejeong

✦ do you want a personal reading like this?

🌸 I offer:

Celebrity Tarot Reads (K-Pop, BTS, Actors) SP Manifestation Guidance Future Love + Shadow Work Spreads Moon-Coded Letter from Your Twin Flame Channeled Audio Readings + PDF Summaries ✧ First reading? Ask for a free pull!

—

📩 DMs Open: @xuexing-lumi Tumblr inbox

🖤 closing words from Lumi:

We ride or die, even through the mess. 💅 — Lumi, the Moon’s Bride 🌕💋

—

(ignore):

#tarot#tarot cards#tarot reading#tarotblr#tarotcommunity#pick a deck#tarot pick a card#pick a picture#pick a photo#pick a card#spiritual warfare#spiritual awakening#spiritual growth#spirituality#chanelling

[rathayibacter]

been thinkin a lot about a neat little trick Disco Elysium and Pathologic pull with dialog options, where instead of presenting you with two to four responses from distinct characters (Paragon Shepard vs Renegade Shepard, for example) and ask you which one you'd like to be, these games offer you a set of immediate reactions from a single character and ask which one you blurt out. Artemy Burakh's first reaction to things annoying him is to swear or insult the person he's talking to, and his second thought is to cool off and be reasonable. when playing him, you're not changing who he is as a person, but you get to decide which impulse he listens to. Harry DuBois is a sharp detective, but is also stuffed to bursting with flights of fancy and self-destructive impulses, and you can try to remain on task or say something stupid that he immediately regrets.

one of the clever advantages of this is that it makes the character come through much more sharply, even when you've been given a lot of control mechanically. Harry is an incredible example of this, as you get to decide the kind of person he becomes much more than the protagonists of Pathologic. however, nothing at all you can do in the game stops Harry from being himself, you can steer him in a dozen different directions but they all feel true to who he is. moreover, the choices you don't pick still work to characterize these protagonists! Burakh having so many sharp responses tells you a lot about him even if you never pick them, and Harry has to reckon with his fascist leanings even when you go full commie.

this also makes breaking with your typical pattern feel much more natural. playing through Pathologic 2, i roleplayed Artemy as collected but very, very tired, and only occasionally prone to fits of anger. but when those fits came out, they felt earned in a character sense. i'd spent the last week holding my tongue around this guy, and now finally one more indignity has been dropped into my lap and i've just about had enough! once i've calmed down, i'll see how unproductive this all is, but in the moment it doesn't feel like i'm jumping the track from Good Artemy to Mean Artemy, it feels like Tired Artemy has finally reached his limits.

i dont really have a wider point to all this than "isnt it cool what game systems can do narratively?" i keep thinking back to an old FoldingIdeas line about how video games are extremely textually dense because "the text" contains everything you can do and every way the game can respond to it. that's fuckin sick! anyway later

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I really enjoyed the sorting questions that you went through for the golden trio + draco. What do you think Voldemort's would look like? I can see him as a slytherin with a gryffindor runner-up as an inverse to Harry's.

Thank you! Glad you liked my sorting method (I actually use it when making OCs for non-HP projects too since it's a useful character breakdown).

Previously on this series:

1. How I sort characters and how the Golden Trio are all Gryffindors for different reasons

2. Draco Malfoy is a Slytherin with very few Slytherin traits

Now, onto Tom Riddle Jr. I can definitely see him as a Slytherin with a Gryffindor runner-up. It's kind of how I always saw him, but let's break it down:

I will add that most of what I'm saying here would make more sense if you knew how I see TMR/Voldemort and I have a whole masterpost for Tom Riddle essays here since I'm not delving too deeply into the evidence and analysis in this post, which is more of an overview.

1. Problem Solving - what is the go-to method of said character to solve problems in a situation that isn't a life-and-death threat. Both without a time limit and on a time crunch.

So, when Tommy has time to plan, he organizes a show. He's dramatic, over the top, and meticulous. He 100% practiced saying "the boy who lived, come to die" before Harry heard it. He studied for his exams, he experiments, he researches. This guy is a dedicated Ravenclaw when he has the time and means.

The Infri cave with the locket is something this nerd felt proud of making. It's kind of an escape room if you think about it. You gotta solve the magical riddles to get through.

He likes inventing his own potion of despair, making up all the wards and spells on the boat and the curse he placed on the ring was probably of his making too. Point is, he's creative, dedicated, and goes about it with an academic air.

So that's a point for Ravenclaw.

I will note though, that Tom cares about how things are done. He doesn't like unnecessary death. He needs to defeat Harry in a proper duel and not just poison him like a Slytherin would. Even when he has all the time in the world to plan, Tom's methods will be ones he considers "the right way" to go about something — which is a point to Gryffindor.

When on a time crunch, he is bold and rash. He makes extreme choices quickly and on the spur of the moment. Like, "oh, Myrtel accidentally died, no matter, I'll try out this new Horcrux spell I found before anyone finds out". His idea to frame Hagrid was also spur of the moment. He didn't actually think it through and in retrospect, he thought it was stupid and he couldn't believe anyone believed him:

but I admit, even / was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realize that Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance ... as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!

(CoS)

But it was the choice he made when he had no time to think things through and was acting on impulse. Tom, isn't cunning when he doesn't have the time to plan, but he definitely makes bold moves and fast.

So that's another point to Gryffindor.

2. Problem-solving under threat of death - when the situation gets really dangerous, how do they deal with it?

We don't see Tom honestly scared often, but when he knows the game is up at the end of book 7, when his Death Eaters are dying and Harry tells him he's the master of the Elder Wand, what does Tom do?

He attacks.

He is unwilling to show he is defeated. He stands proud and brave. He doesn't even try to think of a cunning solution or a way out. He doesn't try to run away (even though he could've apparated away! I mean he could break the anti-apparition wards on the ministry) he stays and fights to his death.

So this is another point to Gryffindor.

Though, I'll give him his first Slytherin point for pride and not being willing to show weakness ever.

3. What they aspire for - what do they want to accomplish for themselves. Be it an ambition towards a job or something they want to just be better at.

Here Tom gets another Slytherin point.

Tom wants to be revered. He wants to be praised and looked up to. He wants to be the greatest. The best. At everything. He wants to be known, he wants a legacy, he wants to never die.

He wants to never be poor, helpless, forgotten orphan Tom Riddle ever again.

He has so many ambitions, he wants a lot and works towards all of it. He is honestly kinda greedy in the way he wants it all.

4. Motivations - why do they do the things they do? What gets them up in the morning?

Arrogance and spite.

Tom wants everything he wants becouse he honestly thinks he is better and greater than basically everyone else. He sees very few people as close to equal to him, be they muggles or wizards. He considers himself the best. Very Slytherin pride, on his part.

And he's petty and spiteful. He likes to say about himself how merciful and above mundane pettiness he is, but he actually isn't. He's lying to himself.

I mean, he dislikes Peter, so he forces him to essentially be Snape's servant. He wants to humiliate the Malfoys because Lucius disappointed him and he is so petty about it every second he sits over Lucius' head in his own manor and humiliates him and his family. Tom is obsessed with Harry because Harry is that one taint on his otherwise perfect record. And Tom Riddle doesn't do grades below an O. He can't fail.

He is an arrogant and spiteful perfectionist. This drive and ambition to perfection in everything he does gives him a point for Slytherin.

5. Defining trait - if you need to choose one trait to define them, what would it be?

Self-hatred.

I know it sounds weird, I mean, this is Voldemort, super proud dark lord who has people bow down to him, how can this be his most defining trait?

Well, it's becouse it's at the core of everything that makes him him. It's why he became a dark lord, in a way.

Why is Tom as spiteful as he is and strives for greatness and perfection as he does? Becouse he wants to be known. He wants validation and praise. He wants other people to see him as great.

This need for validation and praise is a Slytherin point. But there is more to that.

When I say self-hatred, I mean it. For all of Tom's supposed fixation on never dying, he actually has very little self-preservation. He tears up his own soul in experimental rituals to make Horcruxes. He keeps endangering himself in battle because of his arrogance, yes, but also because he really doesn't mind putting himself in a lot of risk. When he wants things done (killing the Potters, facing Harry & Dumbledore in the DoM, chasing after the elder Wand in Germany) he does it himself, danger be damned.

Yes, he thinks everyone else is beneath him, but he doesn't think that highly of himself either. This leads nicely into the next question and a point to Gryffindor for his surprising lack of self-preservation instincts.

6. Valued trait - if they had to pick their favorite trait about themselves, what would they pick?

Intelligence/skill.

Remember what I said about Tom not thinking that highly of himself? Yeah, well, he sees his own intelligence and skill (the only stuff he ever got praise and attention for) as the only aspects of himself of value. He never really appreciated his own personality traits (even though you could say something about his determination or resilience, but he doesn't really care for it that much. I think he doesn't fully consciously think of his own traits this way, really). He doesn't actually like his looks all that much either and was glad to shed them for an inhuman appearance to show how much more he is than everyone else.

But he does truly appreciate his own intelligence and skill in magic above all else.

Which gives another point to Ravenclaw.

7. Values - what traits do they completely despise in others? What traits do they appreciate in others?

He despises traitorous cowards.

Think how he treats Wormtail — he derides the fact he betrayed James and Lily even though it helped him. He hates his sniveling and cowardice. He appreciates bravery and boldness and above all loyalty.

So, that's another Gryffindor point.

He also appreciates skill, cleverness, and cunning in others.

There's a reason he likes Snape as much as he does. Snape is ambitious, talented, intelligent, and clever. Tom likes clever people and he dislikes stupidity.

So, that's another Ravenclaw point.

8. And finally, which house do they want?

I'm not sure how many notions Tom came to Hogwarts with, when he sat on that stole with the sorting hat on his head, which house did he want to go to?

I think it was Slytherin.

Not just becouse Dumbledore was the head of Gryffindor, but because of what the hat probably told him. I mean, the hat told Harry this about Slytherin:

“Not Slytherin, eh?” said the small voice. “Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that

(PS)

And little Tom wants to be great, he wants to be known and praised (Even the older Tom wants these things, if, he isn't as desperate). He wants to live up to what Ollivanders said about his want:

“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. ... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. ... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great.”

(PS)

And if Slytherin is the path to greatness, that's where he'd want to go. And that ambition, choosing a house for his ambition and desire for glory, that is a point for Slytherin.

Tallying up the points:

G - 5, S - 5, H - 0, R - 3

So this actually gives us a Slytherin and Gryffindor hat stall for Tom. So, yeah.

As a refresher to my other sortings from my former posts for comparison:

Harry: G - 5, S - 4, H - 3, R - 0 (Gryffindor with Slytherin runner-up)

Hermione: G - 9, S - 2, H - 0, R - 1 (True Gryffindor)

Ron: G - 6, S - 4, H - 1, R - 1 (Gryffindor with Slytherin tendencies)

Draco: G - 3, S - 5, H - 3, R - 0 (Slytherin (The hat did make the call instantly))

I honestly found this one interesting to do. Tom is a bit of a messy character who is very contradictory. He thinks he is the best, but he still hates most of who he is. He talks a lot about Slytherin's legacy, but he isn't exactly the epitome of cunning and his behavior is very Gryffindor-ish. I will give him ambition though, he got that down.

[thistlecatfics]

Omg nobody has asked for post Azkaban Sirius in therapy yet??? Well I am asking now!!

Haha no one asked because it’s a doozy!!! And I’ve been sitting on this for weeks, and I keep thinking about it and writing nothing. 

Here are some scattered thoughts (which obviously includes some discussion of suicidality and alcohol):

(also ugh sorry the formatting is getting messed up? oh well)

Safety

Assessing for suicidality which he’d probably feel super insulted by

EXCEPT also it’s nice to finally have a space to talk about those thoughts

My boy is definitely experiencing some SI, judged to be at low-to-moderate risk for attempting because of the protective factor (wants to live for Harry, will endure any suffering for Harry) mixed with the major risk factor (heavy substance use making impulsive behavior more likely) (and the fact that Grimmauld Place abounds with lethal means.)

He does not want to safety plan, and so we’d have to do some sneaky safety planning instead. 

Maybe he's self-harming too - I could imagine when he tries not to drink he ends up self-harming. Harm reduction around potential infection risk and monitoring for any escalation but also giving him so much nonjudgmental, non-freaking out support and understanding.

Alcohol (and other substances) 

Harm reduction - like please drink water, please eat, maybe no drinking before a certain time of day. What kind of deals can we make about that? Definitely no trying to tell him he CAN’T drink. That’s stupid, and he’d just stop going to therapy or just start lying. 

Psychoeducation - yes this is making your depression worse not better. This is the brain. This is alcohol. This is the impact. No, you are not special. Your brain reacts to alcohol just like everyone else’s, potentially with even more severe depressive impacts given we don’t know the long term implications of Azkaban. I’m not going to tell you to stop drinking but I’m also not going to join you in any fiction that this is making you feel better overall. 

Animal assisted therapy and getting the fuck out of the house

Buckbeak!!! Also other animals. Sirius is like the number one candidate for animal assisted therapy in my opinion. I have no specialized training in it, but I’d get some for him. 

Are there small ways he can leave the house? Balance safety and risk? What about even the roof? (Though obviously assess for suicidality in terms of encouraging rooftop jaunts.)

We’re working on finding small ways of accessing safety

Grounding in space and grounding in the body are both very unsafe!

If we’re going to engage in any form of grounding or mindfulness, I think it would be using the senses to notice Buckbeak (smell/sight/feel etc). 

If we can build some trust, I think somatic movement might help too though I can see him saying no to that at first. 

Using animagus form as a coping tool

Being a dog >>> killing yourself or drinking to the point of passing out. 

Sooo angry and resentful at the therapist - a safe place for those feelings

Depending on how much time we have, rupture and repair cycle with the therapist might be really healing.

He doesn’t have a lot of outlets for his anger (other than Snape’s occasional visits and depending on how you read his relationship with Remus potentially Remus too), and so being able to tolerate that anger in the therapeutic space would be really important – while also setting clear boundaries. (Personally, I welcome anger, but I have no tolerance for specific demeaning language or slurs directed at me. I’m not worried he’d do that, but I do think making that boundary clear can make it clear how much other behavior is ok in therapy. 

Harry as motivator

Motivator for living, motivator for participating in therapy

While he is stuck in the house, we are not doing any trauma processing. We’re just working on building some safety and coping skills and having a space to vent. We’re only getting into the past/family stuff if he wants to vent about something, but otherwise I’m not even prompting him to go in that direction at all. 

Maybeee we work on beliefs around usefulness and needing to be of service to justify his existence in the world! 

He’s going to believe James and Lily’s deaths were his fault, and I’m going to say they weren’t, and then I’m going to say we can disagree and that’s ok. 

Definitely the type of sessions where I need to lie down afterwards because of the sheer scale of unsaid but deeply felt pain.

[1800titz]

FETISH | Spanko!Harry x Neighbor!Reader (5)

The one where you and Harry are neighbors in an apartment complex, he's got a bunny called Snuggles, he makes softcore porn spanking people (it's a REALLY LOUD HOBBY), and you have definitely called the police for a domestic disturbance next door continued

preview

You watch him, stood in his kitchen with one hand planted on the counter. The way his pink tongue slips out across his lips as he waits, and—

This man is bunnies. The offer lining the bands of his gaze like hope smelting into muskeg green. Untamed, playful charisma fused with quiet, unassuming kindness. 

And the paradox that makes you feverish like a sickness— this man, in another circumstance, demands control. 

That’s how you end up at the dinner table for two, with a slice of the pasta bake on the plate in front of you. It’s orange, and eccentric in the way nuanced white wouldn’t be, the way your dishes are, and it’s Harry. And you don’t really, actually know this man at all, but somehow it makes sense. 

It’s awkward, but it’s not him; his demure oozes something charismatic, unbeknownst. Saturated with ease enough in conversational small talk, and he makes enough eye contact to stifle the choppy motions of this slowdance. 

It’s awkward because you’re awkward. Blinking up at him from under the canopy of your lashes in increments under the jaundiced glow of the lamp. Inkpools mostly, perpetually anchored to your fork. 

It’s just—

You swallow. The food is good. You can’t complain— you get a free dinner (homecooked, as opposed to the canned soup you would have dug out of your pantry and stuffed into the yellow mouth of the microwave), and you get a pretty view of a looker, but. Maybe part of it is the sticky guilt webbing across your nonchalance. 

You’re not going to ask. You don’t plan to ask. You don’t really plan anything— always playing it by ear, always staggering over your own feet into impulse. 

But you’re a ticking time bomb. Sticking your hands under your legs to stop them from skirting through things that don’t belong to you for answers, legs crossed so it takes more steps to get up from the couch for the duration of the whole hour you spent house-sitting. 

But it comes out when your ankle bouncing under the table isn’t enough to quell the weight of your tongue anymore. 

“What’s the… appeal?”

You swallow. The sound of his fork clicking against the plate— metal on ceramic— is at least slightly louder than the way your heart thrums up into your throat.

“Appeal of what?”

You maybe can’t look at him. Not entirely, can’t meet his eye— such a weird question; stupid, stupid— so you just swallow again and contemplate nervously laughing to snub the mushrooming stretch of lull. Nevermind. Picking through the food doesn’t help and magically retract the inquiry. 

“What you do,” is what you finally settle on. 

Your gaze flickers up briefly, and you expect him to look a little bashful, a little uncomfortable, pink tingeing the crests of his cheekbones— the perfect out for that nervous laugh (sorry, I shouldn’t have asked)— but he’s just. Looking at you. Entirely un-rubescent, and maybe it’s the smear of the incandescent lighting, the ease of being submerged by his own belongings, that makes him look so casual (you: the opposite). Your throat feels dry. Parched. Entirely absolved of what’s been soaking on the back of your tongue now that you’ve let it spill, and the longer you sit still there, knowing he’s just looking at you—

You pick the glass of water in front of you up and take a drink.

“I don’t know,” he muses, gnawing into his lip, gaze pensive, “what is the appeal?”

It almost feels like an accusation. Some sort of inside joke that you’re not in on. Something bristles in your chest as you set the glass back into place, throat bobbing as you swallow down what you’ve siphoned in two, thick gulps. Your eyes flash. 

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.”

The corners of his mouth tick as he picks through his food, gaze cast thoughtfully to the plate. But it’s easy— again. Sangfroid. Nearly amused.

“It’s different for different people.”

(At you. At the way you’re indisputably, almost squirming in your chair, and the fat, looming cloud of paranoia persuades you that he knows… something.)

“It’s like BDSM, right?” you tread carefully. Cautious-ish; that’s an overbearingly personal question— digging the prongs through a chunk of cheese: “Is that what it is, for you?”

You swallow again when he doesn’t immediately answer. Now, you think, he’s blushing. All roseate in the face, thrown off kilter by the way you dredge into otherwise unspoken intimacies, and you wouldn’t blame him— you’re toeing at the thought of apologizing, then, consider backtracking altogether—

“Are you asking how I like my sex?” 

Against all presuppositions, his grin is wolfish. This incipient crescent that smears wider and curls higher around the corners of his teeth, when you don’t immediately respond, making your heart thrum a little faster. 

Teasing. He’s teasing you.

“Uh—“

You blink. Your heart lurches further up into your throat. For a second, it feels like you’re suffocating on your own pulse. You’re not sure when the table flipped into a one-eighty from under you, but he kisses his teeth and sits back, so unco to the semi-timid mien you’ve become acquainted with.

“Nosy, nosy, nosy.”

And it’s then that you grasp it in its full borders— the shape of this thing you thought you knew— that of course, you’ve only been scraping at the surface. Of course, somehow, there’s tendrils tying in the empty space between the soft tissues of the Harry you know and the Harry online. A kind of middle ground where inkblots mounted in green don’t shy away under the thicket of his dark eyelashes. Not soaked in a coat of vulnerability— where he doesn’t stick his hands into his pockets at the word sex or the connotations of spanking. 

[hayleythecannibal]

Twisted Minds incorrect Quotes (this will be out of pocket)

Hannibal: Are you a painting? Y/N: What-? Hannibal: Because I want to pin you to a wall. Will: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG THEM OR SOMETHING-

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Y/N: Will, I’m afraid. Will: Just stay close to Hannibal. Y/N: That's why I’m afraid.

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Y/N: Hi, sorry I’m late. I was doing a couple of things and got distracted. Hannibal: I’m “a couple of things”. Will: I’m “got distracted”.

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Y/N: I like your top, Will! Hannibal: I have a name, you know. Will: sighs Why. Why are you like this.

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Hannibal: So, what is Y/N to you? Alana: The reason I wake up every morning. Hannibal: …That’s adorable. Y/N earlier that morning, barging into Alana′s room, smacking pans together: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!

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Jack: Who do we know that has handcuffs? Y/N: Well Will, Hannibal and I- Will: elbows Y/N Y/N: …wouldn't know. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: Everytime I hear someone talking about updog, I’m torn between not wanting to fall for it and wanting to help them complete their joke.

Will: Okay, but what is updog? Hannibal: Updog is a long sausage in a bun, often served with ketchup, mustard, onions, and/or relish. Jack: Not, that’s a hot dog. An updog is when a new version or patch of an application is released. Alana: No, that's an update. You’re thinking of the fourth largest city in Sweden. Abigail: Surely, that’s Uppsala, where’s updog is the giant spider in Harry Potter. Y/N: That’s Aragog. Updog is a symbol conventionally used for an arbitrarily small number in analysis proofs. Jack: You’re thinking of epsilon. Updog is an upward-moving air current. Hannibal: No, that’s an updraft. An updog is the modern version of a henway. Will: What’s a henway?? Y/N: Oh, about five pounds.

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Y/N: Dumbest scar stories, go! Will: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Hannibal: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it. Jack: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Alana: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn. Abigail: Abigail: I have emotional scars. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat? Will: >:O language Hannibal: Yeah watch your fucking language Jack: OKAY WHO TAUGHT HANNIBAL THE FUCK WORD? Alana: 'The fuck word'. Abigail: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time Hannibal: Oh my god they censored it Alana: Say fuck, Abigail. Hannibal: Do it, Abigail. Say fuck. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: We need to distract these guys Will: Leave it to me Will: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss. Hannibal, Jack, and Alana: Immediately begin arguing Abigail, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: WHY. why did you give Hannibal a KNIFE?! Will: I’m sorry. They said they felt unsafe. Y/N: Now I feel unsafe! Will: I’m sorry. Will: ... would you like a knife? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him Will: You did WHAT– Hannibal: William Snakepeare ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me. Will: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you? Y/N: Yes! Hannibal: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AND THAT CONCLUDES ME DYING AS I MAKE THIS......NOW I HAVE TO GO WRITE CHAPTER 12.

[fairytaleendingss]

Marauders Christmas Shopping Headcanons

So this is low-key inspired by my friend and I Christmas shopping the other day. We always joke that we're very James and Remus coded haha. Let me know any other ideas you have for this! Also if you'd like me to make more headcanons.

--

I feel like James is quite a chaotic person in general and I imagine Christmas shopping would be no exception.

One of James' main love languages is gifts and he loves buying things for people so this is his favourite Christmas tradition.

He rocks up to the shopping center with absolutely no plan, just vibes.

He's the kind of person to just follow his heart when it comes to presents and somehow he never misses. He just looks around until he finds something he thinks the person will like and makes an impulse purchase.

He probably gets distracted looking at something he wants for himself in the process.

Makes his friends wait while he tries on a bunch of clothes.

"James, you don't need to by that. It's literally about to be Christmas." "But Remus it's so cool!"

He's the kind of person who would think he found the perfect gift for someone but then see something else he thinks they'll like and just have to buy that for them as well.

Ends up buying like 4 presents for each person.

Thank god he has money.

Remus I feel is the polar opposite of that.

He's extremely thoughtful and probably plans out what he wants to get everyone in advance.

I feel like he'd probably even make notes throughout the year of things his friends and family mention they like/want so he can reference it later.

He's very methodical about his shopping. He knows exactly what shops he wants to visit and what he's going going to purchase.

He probably has a well-thought out budget as well as to what he's willing to spend on each gift.

He's a quick and efficient sort of guy and ends up getting all of his gifts in the first hour of the trip.

He then spends the rest of the time being dragged around by his friends (particularly James).

Unfortunately I don't think Sirius would be particularly into Christmas.

Because of everything with his family, it's never been a very nice time of year for him (until he went to live with James, that is.)

It wasn't until then that Sirius actually started enjoying the holidays.

So he's very new to the whole happy, wholesome Christmas thing.

He pretends to be annoyed about having to buy things for people but secretly he enjoys it.

He's a complete show off with presents. He always buys ridiculously expensive gifts for people and pretends it's nothing.

"Do you think she'd like that?" *points to a 24k gold, diamond necklace*

He'd get really bored after a couple of hours and start to complain, like how little kids do when their Mum drags them along for shopping.

He has absolutely no patience whatsoever.

He'd probably need to go on several trips before all his shopping is done.

He would just end up flirting with all the retail workers by the end of it.

He and James would probably do something stupid like knocking over a display or something and end up getting kicked out of the mall.

(Additionally, I feel like when Harry is born, he'd always spoil him on Christmas and Birthdays with insanely expensive presents from "Uncle Padfoot" that James and Lily would scold him for.)

Peter is an overthinker to his core.

I think Christmas shopping would stress him out.

He wants to get everyone the perfect present but he can't make up his mind about what he should by.

Probably makes the group go back to the same shops multiple times because he can't decide if he should buy that item he saw in there or not.

(Something all the boys would moan about)

Stares at an item for like 20 minutes umming and ahing over whether or not to get it for someone.

Remus and James try to help him decide but give him completely opposing advice which just confuses him more.

Remus: Do you remember them mentioning that they'd like something like that? Did you get them to write you a Christmas list?

James: None of that matters. Just go with your gut. When you see the right thing, you'll know.

Peter: aaaaaahhhh.

Finally buys something but then changes his mind 10 minutes later and returns it.

He'd end up leaving the trip with nothing and would have to come back and try again another day.

Lily, I imagine would be a very practical gift giver.

She and James would balance each other out because while James buys a lot of really fun, thoughtful gifts for people, Lily would buy them stuff they actually need.

She has go-to shops she visits every year.

She's been known to buy people things like household appliances, dishware, pieces of clothing or new sporting equipment (particularly for James.)

Everything she buys is really really good quality.

Although it's slightly less exciting than some might think, it's always very personalized and thoughtful.

I feel like Mary loves making people homemade presents.

That or she does something really personal like framing a picture of their friend group or making a scrapbook.

She's very sentimental and her gifts are as well.

I feel like she probably crochets things for people for some reason.

Marlene without fail, buys every single one of her friends a joke present.

She also probably cracks up laughing at their expression when they open it.

James always loves it.

One year she bought him an apron that said "May I suggest the sausage?" and he unironically wore it every time he was in the kitchen (much to Lily's dismay).

[faerise-fae]

Not really a marauders character but: Tom Riddle #20!

YAPPING WARNING ABOUT ASPD TOM RIDDLE AGAIN

Ok so sorry for taking so long to do this, but my brain crashes every time i try to think about something that isn't obvious or just fucking boring. BUT I REALLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT WITH YALL SO GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS

The hill I'll die on is that he is an ASPD baddie, tho I bet he would prefer thinking about himself as sociopath, as edgy teens do. It doesn't mean I think he is totally emotionless, i think he is very emotional. Just not empathetic? This man is purely driven by his emotions from the start. Be it fear of death, resentment, and hatred towards Dumbledore or just general anger directed at the stupidity of the wizarding nation. In ASPD it's just that the intensity of expression of those emotions is different. He can look totally put together and like an oasis of peace, but inside planning whatever insanities only he can think of.

Because the thing is, anger issues are not rare in ASPD. ASPD is associated with impulsiveness and violent or risky behaviours, which can result in lashing out in anger. It's just that when you don't have many emotions to begin with, controlling the stronger ones can be difficult.

People have very different headcanons about him in that matter, i see a lot of totally stoic, calculating tom riddle who doesn't have absolutely any emotions and stuff like this, but I really can't see it. My man is a dramatic, cruel, entitled and IMPULSIVE edgelord BUT:

HOT TAKE #1:

Canon Tom Riddle headcanonned himself as fanon Tom Riddle.

He might have thought of himself as emotionless, but he just didn't acknowledge it. Growing up in an unstable environment, he hadn't learned how to stabilize himself.

Because ASPD is partialy caused by genetics, yes. But a very big factor in developing it is childhood and home life. We can agree his was very unstable, he has probably witnessed violence and definitely experienced emotional neglect. ASPD is all about lack of security. Its defence mechanism. That means:

My man just doesn't know how to cope, LMAO. When it was too much even for him to stuff into the back of his brain, he just lashed out. Acting on impulses was his relief from it. Adrenaline from it also helped to mute his feelings.

But at the same time, he just didn't think of himself as unreasonable. "It was never his fault, he was just provoked!" He also didn't feel guilty about causing harm to others because he didn't have any empathetic feelings towards anyone. How can you feel bad about idk, cursing someone if you don't see them as an individual with feelings of their own. Because how could he think about their feelings when he didn't have much of his own to compare and to even comprehend what they feel beside some very shallow understanding. AND BY THAT I DONT MEAN HE DIDNT KNOW HE WAS HURTING PEOPLE AROUND HIM HE WASNT A POOR LITTLE MEOW MEOW. HE KNEW, HE JUST DIDNT GET IT SO HE DIDNT CARE. But he obviously knew. So no empathy but more like an educated guess. Masking king. He learnt how emotions worked for other people and used it whenever he saw fit. Pure manipulation.

Because again neglectful caregiving = problems with attachment to people and forming relationships. In the end it's all about him in that aspect. His feelings are always about himself and making himself feel comfortable and stable. He was fond of his friends till they were useful and till he felt good with having them around. He took pride* in gaining their respect and loyalty. He was using them to stroke his ego basically. And was using them in general. For stuff and things.

*HOT TAKE #2:

And here i have my latest hot take: his similarity with Harry in that matter. Harry is a gryffindor with some slytherin traits. And imo Tom, with him being the most slytherin to ever slytherin, his crazy pride and impulsivity is so gryffindor.

So there's that beside how we can all agree he was a liar and manipulator.

[cocoavanille]

Drarry fantasy arranged marriage AU, but they don't hate each other from the start, just cautious and careful to not compromise their sides. They are the same age, have no reason to despise each other from what they've heard but are well aware of one another's strength and deeds.

Harry may be bold and brave, full of desire to prove himself but he's not stupid and would not piss off one of the most respected young mages of the continent for no reason. Draco is a huge supporter of their magical academy's methods and an aristocrat but he respects being smart with other resources and being able to stand your ground politics wise and in battle – Harry is known to manage both quite well.

Draco's magic reminds Harry of wind and lullabies – precise, a little cold, swift yet gentle, when there's no harm intended. Harry's tactics seem to be harsh on the exterior but are usually quite calculated if you see how things unfold. He doesn't resort to unnecessary violence, same as Draco, who learns to think before disagree, but still tells Harry he's too impulsive sometimes. Which is true about both of them and Harry loves to point it out.

Harry remembers he's just nineteen when they start interacting. That he's young, allowed to have fun, make silly jokes and ditch responsibilities once in a while to enjoy his time. Sneaking through the garden with his fiancée that is or meeting the dawn on the beach. Draco makes him feel alive again, like the weight of his country gets lifted from his shoulders for a while. Draco is ridiculous to be honest but he likes it so, so much about him, along with his gorgeous visuals and the way he moves. It's not the pretty face, it's how he manages to keep it still while being met with cruelty. It's not the power he commands but how intune with magic he is. It's not the lines of his body but the strength and agility. It's not the smile – it's the sincerity in it's absence.

Harry looks towards the sea. There's three days before the wedding, their mothers are incredibly agitated and exhausted from preparations while they are here. On the wall of the castle looking in the distance. Words are not enough to convey everything he wants to say. Draco sighs for the first time they've known eachother: quietly, a little shaky.

– Do you want it? I can make a scene and spare you from my company.

Harry's heart breaks a little. He touches his shoulder with a concerned look.

– Why would you think that? You're not so bad. At least as far as young royalty usually goes, I mean. Saw some real assholes in my lifetime.

Draco laughs and slightly pinches his arm. Harry smiles – that's a lot better.

– It's just we'll be bound by magic, not only vows. Most people dream of marriage with someone they at least like. I know you're doing it for the political gain and I don't have a problem with that but... I don't expect you to be kind to me, Harry. Just not cruel.

– If I'm ever outright cruel to you, you have my permission to slap me with a hurricane to the face.

– Deal. And vice versa, just switch the air magic to something from your arsenal.

The wedding is a perfect time to send assassins. Blacks striking an alliance with the Potters is furious business for those who wanted the consort place for their heirs and a couple of other parties. Harry hates that he can't fully relax and enjoy Draco in his beautiful gown. His soon-to-be husband looks ethereal, elegant, almost too good to be his. But he will be, he'll make sure of it. Draco stares at him for way longer than he should.

– What? Do I look stupid in this thing? Told mother we need another cloak-

Draco kisses the edge of his lips softly, so gentle and a little afraid.

– You're stunning, Harry.

He can't help but grin.

– What was that again?

– You heard me just fine, I won't repeat myself for your amusement.

Draco rolls his eyes in annoyance but he sees him blush. Adorable.

Then it hits him. He kissed him! And they will have to do it properly in half an hour, in front of other people... This feels so wrong. It's supposed to be their moment.

– Can you stand still for a second?

Draco stops nervously picking at his long braid and looks at him. So tense, that won't do. He's nervous too but not to the same extent.

Harry caresses his cheek softly, checks in with grey sharp eyes and presses his lips against his, giving them both enough time to get used to the feeling before Draco draws him closer by the neck. This went a lot less awkward than he expected.

– Look at that, you do like me.

– I never stated the opposite.

Harry decides to stop the teasing here: wedding day is enough of a stress for anyone. Even people like them, who's seen battle. As Remus likes to say, matters of the heart always hit you with brutal force you won't expect.

If there is any proof of sincere intentions he needed, he got it. The south sent blood mages, the wedding was crashed right after the ritual was done. A little late for the party. Narcissa took all the guests including his mother under her protection charms that happened to withstand even mind control spells, so them, Draco's uncle and the guards could handle the fight without distractions. One of the mages was too speedy and good with daggers. He would've been dead if not for the sudden wind that put a sword right through the attacker's chest. He stepped away, the man fell. Draco stood on the other side of the room with one of the blood mages at his feet. Furious, cold, dangerous but sane. "Oh", Harry thought to himself, "maybe I won't have to be as carful around him as I thought". The fight soon ends with their victory, Narcissa lowers the barriers.

– Not bad, young Prince. Much better at this than your father was in his younger days.

Regulus Black says, returning him his weapon that was tossed to the side. He nods in gratitude and is about to ask everything at once when Regulus turns to Draco.

– Feeling alright?

– Hate fighting in closed spaces.

Harry just now notices a deep wound on his shoulder he's slowly closing with magic.

– If you have enough energy to be mad, you'll live. Cissa, I'll clear it all up and we'll go on with the dinner? Let's skip the gift giving, it's been a long evening.

– Precisely, I think we all need a break, dear cousin.

Thankfully the banquet area is on another floor where nothing has happened. Draco manages to fix their attire with magic and insists on him having his leg fixed with some weird smelling balm that works wonders in under five minutes.

– Told you it's going to heal it fast.

– How's your shoulder?

– Hurts, but will be fine in two to five days. I closed the wound but the blood loss makes me dizzy still.

Draco takes the potion Regulus brought and makes a funny face.

– Fucking hazeflowers, hate the taste...

Harry sniffs and almost looses his senses. That must be disgusting.

– That's the first time I heard you swear and you know what? Figures.

They make everyone forget a bit of the horrors with their dance and then, after the official part is done, hide away in the west wing with some food and wine.

Harry looks at the stars with many unanswered questions in his heart but the only one that matters now is:

– Why did you do it?

– Because I don't want you dead? Becoming a husband and a widower on the same day is something I would like to avoid.

– The gossip would be mad, you're right.

– Idiot.

Says Draco with no real bite and lays his head on the back of the sofa, closing his eyes. Harry gets the emerald ribbon out of his hair, rubs it between his fingers. Lingering scent of sage, honey and sea salt.

– I'm glad it's you. I wouldn't want to marry anyone else.

– That's a good start.

Draco smiles, looking at him and Harry feels it in his heart – they will be fine. The circumstances around them may change, but they will be there for eachother.

– Do you want to see our main bathing zone? Bet it will surprise you.

Draco asks with a hint of playfulness and he gives in immediately, not trying to hide his excitement.

– Lead the way.

– Anything you wish for, dear husband. It's our night.

Harry's life further gets filled with so much color, feelings and melodies he can't imagine it without certain someone, tagging him on the sleeve to look at the beautiful sunset. His world gets a little softer and he likes it that way.

[ragana62]

Saturday Hot Takes:

We’re double dipping today because why not start things off right?

Requests for clarification or elaboration are always welcome. You know where to find me, and my anonymous asks are on if you’re feeling shy.

This time, we’ve got some thoughts on the Chosen One himself: the man, the myth, the often forgotten or ignored by his own fandom, Harry Potter.

He doesn’t actually need the glasses by the time he reaches adulthood. Magic can in fact fix eyesight and for Aurors in particular it’s a bit mandatory to have it done as a safety precaution. He wears them regardless, just without prescription lenses, because it’s something of his father that he can keep with him even after so many of the ‘you look just like your dad’ comments stop.

That said, he doesn’t actually stick with being an auror very long. It was an impulse decision after the war, made mostly out of a feeling of obligation to finish what he’d started, to make sure that this time the victory stuck and they’d not have to do it all again in another 15 years or so. The second the last of the Death Eaters is in Ministry custody, his badge is on Kingsley’s desk. A part of him wants to be a professor, but he doesn’t technically have the NEWTs to qualify since he skipped his repeat year, but a bigger part of him discovers he rather loves being at home with the kids and since he doesn’t really need to work thanks to that family fortune of his, he spends most of their childhoods as a stay at home parent.

Ginny loves bragging to her friends, teammates, the papers, anyone who is stupid enough to comment on it, that Harry Potter is her trophy husband. It’s all in good fun, he’s into it, and it does lead to some rather entertaining articles, and a brief trend of other men trying to show off their status by proclaiming themselves trophy husbands even if they don’t quite get the joke. Hermione had the article where Draco is quoted as saying that not only is he a trophy husband but he’s from a long proud line of trophy husbands so really Potter’s just copying him framed for Harry for his birthday for the laugh. It’s one of his proudest possessions.

Harry never replaced Hedwig. It was inconvenient, not having an owl of his own, but he could always borrow one or use Ginny’s and it never felt right. He did however have a string of increasingly odd pets after the war courtesy of an article Hermione gave him about therapy dogs. While he started off normal enough with a kitten, it quickly escalated to filling the garden with odd animals Luna found and declared weren’t able to live in the wild any longer, including a mooncalf named Meep who had been exiled from his herd, an augurey named Helen who had a fondness for trying to scare unknown houseguests with fake portents of doom instead of the usual weather reports, a salamander named Turtle by a rather enthusiastically wrong baby Al, and a snake he found one morning all on his own while watering the garden who officially goes by Gerald. His actual name is a bit hard for anyone who doesn’t speak parsletongue to say, but he and Harry are seen most mornings chatting as Harry tends the garden, usually followed by the rest of his menagerie.

[pinkhoneydrop]

Its a Game pt.6

[ A/n ] - Hey everyone here is part 6 i had to cut it a bit short so i could get to the good bits in part 7 that i am currently writing and i also started another multy part story that i think y'all will like!

[ Pairing ] - Harry Styles x Reader!, Dylan O'Brien x Reader!

[ Genre ] -  angst

[ Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 ]

[ Masterlist ]

Harry drove home from seeing you with a million thoughts swimming in his head. Why did he say he loved you? That was fucking stupid. I mean, it is true. He did love you but obviously it was the wrong time. Had he really taken so long to realize your intentions were greater than you let on? He really should have thought about that more. These sequences of events were a product of not needing to think when he was with you. Not seeing you for months then having an awkward encounter with you and then weeks later he pulls up to see you in a parking garage and says he loves you. I mean what the fuck. Who does that? Harry apparently does that now. Gone are his days of confident mystery. Perhaps he should learn to think when he’s near you. To be independent of you. Despite this, he’s regretting the timing of his impulses and now you know he loves you and you still will go home to another man. How was he supposed to process this and now having to see you at the festival? Rehearsal after rehearsal and then a whole weekend of you. Perfect you.

The thoughts consumed his mind the whole drive back to his LA home. The car pulled into his driveway, and he shut the door as he fished for the key to his house in his bag. The welcoming smells of laundry and cleaning products filled his nose with a scrunch. He needed to sort himself out. He used to come home to his NY apartment and smell you. Your vanilla and cinnamon scented perfume. Like cookies fresh out of the oven. Warm and truly inviting the opposite of the chemicals and detergent stinging his nose currently.

The days before the start of rehearsal seemed to drag on. Meeting after meeting and workout sessions in between for both harry and yourself. In total it had been about a week since you asked him to meet you at the garage. Dylan still didn’t know, and you still couldn’t get Harry’s declaration off your mind.

***

“And then he stood there with that fucking smirk of his and was like ‘I Lov youu’ I mean who says that after you just told them why you needed space in the first place.” You punctuated your sentence with a hard smack to a punching bag. You never would have caught yourself in the gym before all this Coachella nonsense. Yes, you were grateful blah blah blah, but this was some serious stuff. Asara joined you on occasion and this was one of those times. Blass your personal trainer he’s heard a ton of drama fall from your lips. Asara grinned and held back a laugh at your impression of the man. The two of you hit the bags in tandem as the conversation continued.

“I think he just misses you. You were on and off for so long you know.” Asara spoke between the sounds of fist hitting bags. You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, he missed me while he was fucking another woman high off coke.” You punched the bag and Asara chuckled.

“Y/n he tried to tie you down several times, and I remember you always ran away every time he tried. Now, that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have used his words, but the man did try. And don’t act like you don’t partake.” Asara stood off to the side as she finished her set.

“That’s not what I mean. He just gets carried away and I don’t mind taking care of him after he’s faded but it’s not healthy to do it that much. And as for trying to tie me down… I was completely loyal to him, and he knew that. I want to be shown off and he wants to be secretive and private.” You paused for a second to remove your boxing gloves. “We never saw eye to eye, but I love him too.”

“Right and now that you can both agree on something what are you going to do about Dylan?” Asara made a good point, and you weren’t sure how to break the news.

***

“Do you think I’m ready for this?” You looked up at Dylan with fear in your eyes. It was starkly different than any look he has seen on your face before. He always knew what to say but this time he just sort of looked at you. You looked to him for something. Anything would have been fine just anything to let you know that he could level with you in this moment. You were searching, reaching for anything in the deep recesses of his eyes and you couldn’t find anything.

 His lips turned into a smile, and he pulled you in close. For Dylan in this moment, he was so proud of you that words weren’t enough. You allowed yourself to be pulled to the hug, but your arms stayed at your side. It was eerily frustrating for you. Being spoon fed the idea that he wanted to give you what you deserved, and you deserved more you needed more. You needed what Harry could give you. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him speaking with his production team and you glanced between the two men. When your eyes settled back on Dylan, you knew you needed him to leave. The two of you stood backstage at a mock rehearsal for the night you were to perform on stage at Coachella. Voices and the sounds of metal scraping against each other while the sun beat down on the field. Dylan decided to join you for moral support, but you felt so separated from him. It was like he did understand what you needed in that moment to help you feel better. You stared at the wall and your mind went blank. This had to stop.

Harry stood off to the side with his team. Each of them primping him and measuring fabric for the show. He did a good job at staying impartial when Dylan was around. For the few times they ended up in the same room or when he saw a photo of him on his Instagram feed because you posted him, or he just happened to be in the photo. You didn’t fully warm up to him just yet and Harry knew you didn’t forgive him yet. In his mind he decided he needed to be on his best behavior to win you back and gain your trust. Harry couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t snooping, he definitely was. And he could tell Dylan was doing a shit job at comforting you. The guy looked nervous enough for both of you.

“Um I gotta go Dylan.” You spoke softly and pulled away from him after he placed a kiss to the top of your head. You looked disappointed if harry could even say that. Dylan seemed to take the hint and disappeared off to sit with your friends. The dress rehearsal was dragging on for everyone so harry could imaging you felt stuck right now. Nervous and unsure who to talk to. Having a solution come to mind he made his way over to you. At first you didn’t notice. You were marking beats and paces in your head like he does, and it made him smile to think about you valuing his creative process.

Harry decided you needed space and he leaned onto his team as they finished the preparations. He would be back in two nights to perform, and you would be joining him on stage. His nerves caught up to him and he was glad you were off with your people so he couldn’t make a fool of himself again. You looked good though even in your comfortable clothes to practice. Your hips hit every marked beat and he almost got lost watching you.

The next day of rehearsal went by fast, and you were up late again practicing for the show. Beat after beat and step after step, you went over it in your head until it was time to gather backstage. You arrived at the venue the next day in a pink dress. A car service picked you up and your team met up with you. Flashes of light and screams cold been seen a mile away from the stage. Harry was prepped and ready to descend upon the crowd. You stood off to the side and took deep breaths. Harry saw you from the corner of his eye and looked over. You looked so scared. So different from how he was used to seeing you. You looked so vulnerable.

“You’re going to be great darling.” His voice carried a low register that caught your attention through your in-ears. He had walked over to comfort you. The glitter on his outfit fell to the ground like snowflakes and you stared at the glistening specks. For some reason, the closer he got to you the slower your heart began to beat.

“Give me your hands.” His voice was firm but soft as to not call attention to you. You listen despite all that has happened and how much you wanted to walk away and be alone. Your hands fit into his so perfectly. Harry held onto you gently and rubbed his thumbs onto your palms. Your breathing was shallow, but you stayed in that spot not daring move your sight from the floor.

“Look at me darling.” That pet name would haunt you if this ended up anymore tragically. Harry caught your eye, and you stared right back at him. His eyes didn’t give anything away that he didn’t want them to, and you just stood there looking into his eyes for a few minutes. You wanted to cry. Dylan could have never comforted you like this. All these months and weeks replayed over and over in your mind as you held hands with Harry.

“Just look for me if you feel nervous out there, okay? Focus on me.” Harry let go of your hands and walked up the stairs. You closed your eyes, and you could hear the excitement in the crowd build. The screams got louder and louder as the music began to play and he walked out. Secretly your heart was doing flips. Warmth flushed your face, and you gave Harry a small smile. He brushed his thumb against your face and turned to walk on stage. You stood back and looked at the crowd as he started to perform. The opening notes of adore you began to play, and the audience went crazy.

Three songs and then you heard your cue. Walking closer and closer to the stage you heard your song begin to play through the speakers and the beat matched up with your heart.

Liked by harryswife33…and 3849 others

y/nandharryshipper1 y/nrry for lifeeeeee

458 comments

Harryfan54 stop they are for sure meant to be together.

Y/nnnfan22 y’all acting like she isn’t in a relationship rn

Reply to Y/nnnfan22 y/nrryshipper9 right lol its weird even for me. Like I get it but harry is definitely in over his head with this one.

Liked by assa22, harrystyles and 93820 others

Yyy/nn3 baby’s first Coachella tyyy @\harrystyleshq for inviting meee

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Y/nnnfann0 bae looking so fucking good

Harrystyleshq loved having you

Harryfan96 Harry gets to have that any time he wants and I’m jealous

You put your phone down after looking back at the post. A notification flashed at the top that Dylan had posted and for some reason you wanted to keep him out of your mind. Now Harry isn’t stupid, and he especially isn’t stupid when he’s sober. He saw how fast you ignored the notification. He didn’t quite see who it was from when you put your phone down so fast, but he guessed it was from Dylan. He would be lying if he said it didn’t amuse him but the idea that you still gave an ounce of energy to that man made him feel detached from reality. The room was cold like he asked for it to be, but his neck felt hot. The veins in his arms bulged for a second and then before he could succumb to the jealousy you started speaking.

“Thank you.” You sounded so meek and shy. Fixing yourself like a teenager on a first date. Is this what he’s done to you? His darling used to be a spitfire. Real sassy and sickeningly sweet with her attitude. “Thank you.” If this were almost a year ago, he would have you pinned to a wall already. Fuck your “thank you” He needed that feeling back in full force. This simmering tension was frustrating. Was he just supposed to stay away from you? He knew you wanted him back. You didn’t have to say it, that’s what this whole game was about. Harry has studied you and the way you act the only thing that made this different the other times you’ve played cat and mouse with him is that you found a new toy to fuck around with. “You look fucking amazing.” Harry sighed and shifted on the sofa the pair of you were sitting on. He wasn’t lying the skirt you were wearing was low cut and your waist was twisted and curved like when he used to hit it from behind. He should probably stop but who wouldn’t think about you like that?

You noticed that Harry was staring. Staring in your eyes studying you. Staring at your clothes or lacking thereof. Staring at your lips imagining God knows what and you stared right back. It was almost like how you see in the movies. You moved in slow motion as you scooted closer to him on the seat. Your legs crossed and your hands were cradling your phone. Harry sat opposite of you with his legs spread comfortably. His arms were lying over the back of the sofa. The two of you were sure there were more glamorous couches to be lounging on, but the accommodation wasn’t of concern when your lips met for the first time in months. Something about the kiss was electric. Your phone fell to the floor as harry pulled you closer. The position was awkward with your arm trapped between his body and yours. Your legs remained crossed until Harry’s hand gripped the skin of your exposed thigh. His firm palms and fingertips massaged the muscles you had been using to dance all night. Neither of you broke for air until your phone began to ring from the floor.

Harry leaned forward and picked up the device first. His mood dampened as he saw the name flash across the screen. In a split second it crossed Harry’s mind to decline the call on your behalf. All it would take is one swipe of a finger, one press of a button. He would have his lips back on yours in a second. You sat across from him looking expectantly with wide innocent eyes. Such a loud juxtaposition from the smudged lipstick smeared across your plush mouth. And all the nasty things he knew you could do and say with it. You were so beautiful and the second you answered the call you wouldn’t be his anymore.

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[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hello, thank you for answering our questions! Often, when I try to find fan fiction with an adult Harry, for some reason the authors prescribe a caricature character from early books for him and write his character from extreme to extreme. Or Harry is soft, gentle, kind, hates violence and constantly forgives his enemies, is not capable of murder and turns a blind eye to alarm bells. And he also whines because of morality (I hurt my abuser, oh, how bad I am!). Or he is aggressive, impulsive and stupid.What traits of Harry's character could change in 10-15 years? Or how will his approach to problem solving change? For example, Harry's anger will become more tamed and deliberate. And also, I always thought that Harry was more focused on gray morality, because he saw the best in the worst people, as well as the worst in the best people. What do you think about it? I really like your posts about Harry's character, magic and mind. You're doing great 🩷🩷🩷

Thank you so much! 😊

Well, I mean, I don't know if I'd say Harry is focused on grey morality, he is a good guy who for the most part believes in justice (sans a few exceptions for people he cares about/really hates). Because in general, he acts according to a pretty clear moral code in his mind. It may not be your moral code, but Harry has one that he doesn't consider grey. I talked about this more here.

And, like, Harry is a forgiving person, but his forgiveness is a bit selective. In general, he believes someone who did something bad, deserves something bad to happen to them in turn but if there's a specific reason for him to sympathize or to believe there's good in that person, he will be willing to offer forgiveness. I mean, he offered Voldemort to try for some remorse. Harry is willing to offer the possibility of forgiveness. But he is no pushover, if he sees he isn't treated back with the same respect, then he isn't going to keep trying. He does not have limitless patience and he has little to no tolerance for other people's shit. So while he can forgive when presented with a reason to do so, he's not someone who'll keep dishing out chances to people who don't deserve it.

As for how I imagine him when older, honestly similar to how he ends the books in terms of morals and worldview, probably. I think he'd get calmer, a lot of his anger is a response to trauma so as he heals with time, he should get less angry, less hypervigilant, and less jumpy. Though, I imagine his temper and vigilance never disappear completely and even in his later years, he'd be, like, sitting at a restaurant and the server would pass just too close behind him and he'd have the urge to pull his wand out and deflect the threat. But it would be an urge and he wouldn't actually do it unless he needs to.

His temper, while he'd have better control of it, wouldn't disappear completely. I can still see a Harry in his 40s or 50s just snapping at someone in anger and shouting at them. If they didn't deserve it he'd feel bad and apologize later, but sometimes, you need to shout off the ear of some stupid ministry person. I think Harry should be allowed to do that, as a treat. But I don't see him ever getting violent in his temper, ever. Shouts and rude, snide comments are the furthest he'd go without consciously deciding violence is necessary (Even if he'd imagine strangling annoying people in his head).

I also think as Harry grows older he'd become more confident. Like, Harry in the books really lacks self-esteem and he has no clue how great he is. I think that although older Harry would still have a somewhat skewered image of himself, he'd be more confident and have a vague understanding that he is smarter and more magically powerful than the average wizard.

Part of the two above sections is that more and more of the sarcastic quips Harry makes in his head will be spoken out loud. We actually see it in the books, that Harry's more externally sassy as the books progress (he says his thoughts aloud more) and I think this trend will continue. Like, I imagine older Harry just says the wildest shit ever on the regular and finds others' reactions funny. Like, he doesn't need to be as worried about public perception as much, because like, "I saved you all twice already, I died for you, what more do you want?" so he'd allow himself to be a bit of a shit when he feels like it, I think.

So an older Harry would be just as witty as the younger Harry, quite funny, calmer than in the books, and more confident. He'd be less impulsive, but just as cable of violence when he deems it necessary (although, he'd probably need it less since he'd have a reputation that does half the work for him from a certain point). Like, as I mentioned in the past I like to think Harry eventually becomes a DADA professor and later headmaster, I kinda imagine students don't mess with him. Not because he ever hurt them (Harry would never) but because he just has that glare, and he looks downright scary when he stares into your soul with these Avada-colored eyes of his. But usually, he's a pretty fun teacher that's all about practical application and I'm sure all his students gush to their parents about how cool Professor Potter is and how he talks shit and laughs with them even though he's the savior of the wizarding world.

(Also Professor Potter is seen drinking in the Three Broomsticks with Head Auror Ron Weasley and the Head of the Being Division in the Ministry Hermione Weasley every Hogsmead weekend (their positions change through the years, I just picked a year at random))

Though, he'd always have a sadness to him, like, he's been through so much and it'll always show, even in subtle ways. I think this would allow him to be very empathetic towards his students.

I'd like to imagine that post-book 7 Harry returns to Deathly Hallows to visit his parents' graves every year. I think, post-war, Harry would visit as many graves as possible of people who died during the battle of Hogwarts on the date of the battle. He'd even visit Tom Riddle's grave if he had one because he'd feel sorry for him.

Like, these are some random thoughts I have about this (sorry I went on my "Harry should've been a professor" rant, just, a lot of my future Harry headcanons are tied to it).

[strawbsstarz]

Pt. II Rewrite the Stars: Draco Malfoy x reader

im sorry it seems rushed i just wanted to give you guys a happy ending T_T i had lots to do, i am not doing a series type again its too advanced for me- too much pressure to keep up (maybe in the far future) its also so long mb

Warning: Angst

Pt 1 HERE

~

The night you impulsively decided to leave him alone in that tower was the worst night of your life. You had tiptoed into your dorm, trying not to wake your roommates up, slipping into the blankets. You desperately tried to make yourself comfortable, but the nagging sound of your heart beating in your chest was ringing in your ears, and your head was banging from the running thoughts of what had just occurred. You tried to hold in the emotions you felt- that you've been feeling, but it was impossible. The silent night and the sound of your roommates soft breathing, you couldn't stop the flow of the questions that had begun to compile itself in your brain, does this mean it's over? And with that realization you silently wept into your pillow covering your sobs.

The next couple of days seemed to blend in together, you had missed your classes using the excuse of not feeling well. It was believable-with how much you cried: your face was pale, you had a red runny nose, no one questioned a thing. You knew you couldn't avoid him forever though. When you finally allowed yourself to process the events that had happened, you felt strong enough to see him. You felt confident in avoiding him without having a breakdown.

Days had passed, and eventually it turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. There was no sign of Draco. Where could he have gone? Your heart yearned for him, even if whatever you two had was now unofficially over because of your stupidity of wanting more- you still searched for him in every room. You wondered why he's been gone for months, could it be because of- no, you shook your head it can't be because of that, right? Every time you wonder his whereabouts and why he's been absent, your assumption almost always wanders off into what Harry had told you a couple of months ago. There's no way Draco would agree to that..

You were walking to potions when a voice had called out to you,

"Y/N!"

Recognizing the voice you turn your head to the proclaimed chosen one, offering a wave and a smile.

"I've been looking for you, do you remember what I told you a couple months ago?" He asked as he catches up to you.

"About your crush on Ginny?" You teased.

He blushes and his hand rubs the back of his neck looking down, "N-No!" He looks around, and with a hushed voice, he comes closer, "About Malfoy.."

You freeze, standing in place for a second before beginning to walk again to class hoping that he didn't notice, "U-uh yeah? What about it?"

Truthfully, no matter how much you tell yourself to not meddle anymore in Draco's business, you can't help feeling worried, so if this is the only way you would get to know about where he was, then fine, so be it. Even if the idea of it all made your heart ache even more.

"I overheard him talking to Snape about something a couple of days ago-"

"Wait- wait he's back?" You questioned.

"I think they're planning something Y/N-" He sighs, "I'm just warning you to be careful okay?"

You nodded cautiously and as you two had begun walking into class, you made your way to your assigned seat near the front. You wondered if Harry is overthinking his claims, but if he overheard something suspicious, does this mean that all his assumptions about Draco were true?

You began to space off, until a familiar scent of expensive cologne and mint had caught your attention and you held in your breath. Shit. You completely forgot he sat next to you during potions. With how long you haven't seen him, you didn't expect him to sit next to you especially after that night.

It had been months, months since you last smelled his cologne, him. You didn't dare meet his eyes, and he didn't dare meet yours. You lowered your head to look at the quill and paper in front of you. He sighs as he stares at the front of the class waiting to start.

"Can't believe you've already moved on to Potter," he muttered under his breath. You couldn't even register what he had said, because your mind was solely focused on how much you missed his voice.

"How have you been?" You asked, still looking down as you began twiddling with your fingers. Even though you refuse to look at him, his eyes are fixed on you, from the second he walked into this room, from the hallway when you walked with Potter, it was on you.

Before he could answer, class had begun. The entire time you tried your best to avoid his gaze, to avoid meeting his eyes. You didn't know what would happen if you saw his eyes, saw his face. You were too scared to face him. However, it was the complete opposite for him. He kept stealing glances in your direction, as if making sure that it was you right next to him. He couldn't believe it.

Unbeknownst to you, these past couple of months were horrid for him. He had missed school because the Dark Lord had requested for him to attend the death eaters meetings and considering how his family almost always hosted them, he had no choice but to go. He felt restless every night, especially since his childhood home was now being used as a hotel for the most dangerous wizards known. He couldn't stop worrying and thinking about you, wondering how you were. Every night he laid in his bed with images of you in his head- memories you two had spent together. He felt himself constantly playing with his family ring every time he felt restless, and his thoughts would always wander to how the spaces between his fingers felt empty without yours intertwined in them.

And now that you were next to him, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. You were merely inches away from him, and even though he craved to feel you against him once again after all this time, he bites the inside of his tongue, to snap himself out of it. He recalls the promise he made to himself that night, and that is to keep you alive.

He managed to hold himself back, practically running out of the classroom after dismissal. You watched his fleeting figure go, disappointed that you didn't get the chance to talk to him more. Sighing in defeat, you made your way back to your next class.

You had successfully managed to distract yourself that day, and the days after. You didn't know what you wanted, you had decided to break it off with him and he never chased after you. Yes, you were heartbroken, but you still hoped for him to come back to you, you thought that maybe, just maybe, he would be willing to try things to make it work.

You sighed as you leaned forward on the railing at the Astronomy Tower. Even after months had passed, you still found yourself up here, even when Draco was nowhere to be found, you were still here, waiting. You sighed once again, nostalgically remembering him again. You stared at the stars and recalled how you would trace his face with your fingers under the moonlight. You remembered him closing his eyes, humming a tune that you doubt was even a song, but it was beautiful, nonetheless.

Footsteps echoed from the door. You backed away into a shadow, afraid of getting caught. After a couple of seconds, a figure appeared in the entrance, the familiar blonde coming into view. This was the first time in months since you've seen his face. Despite talking to him earlier, you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, so you never noticed how much weight he lost, and how he looks paler than usual but even despite all of that, he looked just as handsome as you remembered.

"Draco?" You stepped out of the shadows walking towards him. When he saw you, his eyes widened in surprise,

"Y/N.." He hesitates, "I didn't think you'd be up here.."

You shrug and walked towards him, "Force of habit, really."

He looks at you for a moment, before putting his hands in his pockets, giving a slight nod. He backs away slowly, "I'll leave you to it then."

"Wait," you reach and grab his arm as he began walking away, "stay.."

He pauses in his tracks. Your hand clung tightly to his clothes, and you finally asked, "Where have you been..?"

He turns himself around to face you, his movement delayed. You lowered your head,

"I've missed you.." you exhaled, closing your eyes to take in a deep breath. You lift your gaze to meet his. A rush of emotions coming back to you, one that you've missed. The way he looked at you with such warmth and with such love, it remained the same, even after all this time. He wants to tell you that he missed you too, but there's a voice in his head screaming at him to leave, before someone finds out that he's with you. He stops breathing for a second, trying to contain himself but he can't.

He grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you in desperately. He's missed you so much and all this time apart had him shaking slightly. He was scared and so happy to finally see you. All the pent up frustration, emotions he's piled up these past couple of months, he almost collapsed right then and there. Your arms snake their way to his waist, embracing him tightly, afraid he might go away again.

None of you say a word for a couple of minutes, until Draco's left arm burns and he hisses pushing you away. He holds it to try to soothe the pain, worried you stepped towards him,

"Dra-Draco? What's wrong?" You asked as you see a red glow underneath his robe. You grab his arm and reveal the bare skin. He doesn't have time to push you away as the pain continues, but it begins to subside once he feels your touch, and when he's back to his senses it is already too late.

You gasp, you've always denied it, but deep down you knew and seeing it with your own two eyes felt more real. You couldn't run away any longer from this truth that you tried so hard to convince yourself from. Your eyes began to water and before you knew it, you began to cry.

"Are you afraid?" He murmurs, "I didn't want you to know..."

"Since when?" Your fingers shaking as you slightly grazed over the mark.

"A while ago..." He bites his lip, trying to hold himself back from breaking apart. He's terrified, now that you know. His head is telling him to run- to leave this tower immediately but like that night his feet are planted in place. He tries to think of an idea- he shuts his eyes as he clenches his fist, nails digging into the skin, "Now you can understand why we can't be together, Y/N."

He hates talking to you this way, but he can't bring himself to leave this place- you. To him, the best next thing to do is to get you to leave, just like that night. He mentally scolds himself for letting his emotions get the best of him- acting so recklessly as he did earlier.

You couldn't stop the tears that spilled. Yes, you were scared but not of him, for him.

Draco keeps his head low, overthinking the situation- what's to happen. He tries to navigate through the list of horrible things that could happen to you because of his mistake.

"I'm so sorry I was selfish and asked you for more when- when you-" You choked on your tears and your sentences become incoherent, "I didn't know...Why didn't you tell me? I-"

Shocked, he looks up, his heart breaking at the sight of you, why were you sorry? Why were you apologizing? He should be the one to apologize, not you.

His hand reaches out to wipe your tears away, "I didn't want you to know," he repeated, "I didn't want to risk putting you in danger.."

You shake your head, "What about you?"

"I've been recognized as one of them, Y/N" His tone was soft, but there was so much sorrow to it, "It's only dangerous if I let my guard down."

"You'll only be safe for now, it's not guaranteed, Draco."

There's a moment of silence, to process everything.

"Has he done anything to you?"

Draco caresses his fingertips on your cheek, "No, I'm okay." Another pause, he looks at you and lightly traces your face with delicacy, "I'm sorry, Y/N."

"It's okay-"

"No, let me finish, love." He presses his forehead against you, eyes closed as your skin touch. He still holds your face, trying to feel your presence as much as he could, trying to savor every second that passes. You close your eyes, trying to focus you're entire mind and body to just him. Though it was such a simple act of touch, it felt so intimate.

"I love you." He whispers, "I love you so much, Y/N."

"And I love you, Draco Malfoy." You cry again, not because of sadness, but because of how much comfort those words gave you. How those three words lifted such a burden in your chest that you felt so light in his arms again.

And just as it was comforting to you, it was to him. However, he knew that he still does not want to risk losing you and getting caught up in the middle of this soon to be war.

"We can't be together...No matter how much I love you, and you love me, I don't want to risk your life, Y/N."

"I know, I understand-" He squeezes your cheeks,

"Let me finish, love." And you fall silent, waiting. "I want to be selfish and ask if- you can.." He doesn't ask, but he didn't need to because you already knew.

"I can wait." You smile, "I can wait Draco, but...what's gonna happen to us when we see each other out there...on the other side of war?"

Draco sighs, "I don't know, but whatever happens, I'm not gonna let you get hurt by them.."

You shudder at the thought of all the possibilities that could happen in battle, but it quickly fades away as you remember that he was in your arms right now, and that's all that matters.

You don't know what's gonna happen, neither of you do, but whatever happens you'll wait for him. Like you always have, you'll wait until both of you can be together, when the circumstances are right. You'll wait with a different perspective in mind- because now you know that he loves you just as much as you love him. You'll wait for him with a worried heart, longing everyday for his touch. You can wait for him because you know that on the other side of it all, he's there, waiting for you.