#. anyways buh bye see you someday

[ralseinumberonebiggestsupporter]

girl who eats toothpaste

[marauders-venting]

Our Last Summer (Part 3)

pairing: wolfstar (sirius x remus)

genre: fluff & angst

warnings: mentions of death

words: 1653

note: based on the song ‘Our Last Summer’ by ABBA

a/n: ahh its the last part! i hope you guys liked this!!

And now you’re working in a bank, a family man, a football fan... your name is Harry… our last summer, memories that remain

He’s Harry, Sirius reminds himself. Harry. Not James. But the similarities were uncanny. And Sirius looks at this kid, this kid who is the closest thing he has to his best friend, this kid who has suffered so much in the short 15 years that he’s lived, suffered because Sirius couldn’t be there for him, and all he feels is guilt and remorse. But Sirius can’t help wondering how much of a difference would it have made if he had been there? Sirius knew that James would have made a great dad, he would’ve been the best dad a kid could have. But Sirius? No. He was too reckless, too immature, too irresponsible to take care of a child. Would it have made any difference if he hadn’t been sent to Azkaban? Would he even be able to protect Harry? No, Sirius was not cut out to be a dad. Not then and not now. Maybe it was good that Harry never got the chance to live with him. It was better for Harry anyway. Sirius couldn’t see himself doing the “dad thing”, he couldn’t see himself caring for an infant or a child or a teenager. He wouldn’t be able to do it.

But then he remembered something. He remembered that last summer before… everything. James and Lily had gone out and asked Remus and Sirius to babysit. It was the night after the full moon and Remus was asleep on the couch before dinner. And Sirius was left with Harry.

“Pa’foot!” Harry yelled as soon as Sirius walked through the door, running as fast as his little legs would carry him and attaching himself to Sirius’ leg.

“Hi, Harry,” Sirius laughed, picking him up.

“Moo’ee!” Harry said, reaching for Remus, who was standing right beside Sirius.

“Hi, Harry,” Remus said, ruffling his hair.

“Moony can’t carry you today, Harry, ok?” Sirius said.

“Hug Moo’ee,” Harry said, his tiny hand closing on the sleeve of Remus’ sweater.

“It’s fine, Sirius, I can hug him,” Remus said, smiling slightly.

“You sure, love?”

“Yeah, of course,” Remus said, taking Harry into his arms. Harry giggled and hugged Remus.

“Thanks for doing this you guys,” Lily said.

“Rem, are you sure you’re up for this?” James asked, a note of concern in his voice. “You look dead on your feet.”

“Thanks for that, James,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

He glanced at Sirius. It was only a second but Sirius knew what he needed; he took Harry back into his arms and said,  “Say goodbye to Mummy and Daddy and then we can have some fun, ok?”

“Buh-bye,” Harry said, waving at Lily and James with his tiny baby hand. They both laughed and took turns kissing Harry on the forehead where he would soon have a lightning-shaped scar.

“Just don’t have too much fun, yeah?” James said, still sounding concerned.

“Oh calm yourself, Prongs, I know what I’m doing,” Sirius said.

“Yeah, yeah we’ll see,” James said. “There’s already food in the fridge and if you need anything just—”

“James, relax, they've done this a million times,” Lily said, taking his hand.

“Yes, thank you, Evans,” Sirius said. “We’ll see you guys later, ok? Have fun!”

“Bye-bye, baby,” James said to Harry, ruffling his hair.

“Bye, honey,” Sirius said, ruffling James’ hair exactly as James had done to Harry. James rolled his eyes but smiled and headed for the front door.

“See you later,” Remus said.

“Bye,” Lily called, already out the door. “Thanks again!”

“Fun!” Harry yelled as soon as his parents had left.

“Wanna ride your new broomstick?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. He slid out of Sirius’ arms and went to get the broom. Sirius started to follow and then looked back at Remus, who was yawning.

“Go to sleep, Re,” Sirius said, softly.

“I’m fine,” Remus insisted.

“Please, Rem, you’re exhausted,” Sirius said. “You could crash on the couch. I can watch Harry, it’s fine.”

“You sure?” Remus asked.

“Yeah, just get some rest.”

“Okay. Thanks, Sirius.”

“Of course, love. Sleep well.” Sirius kissed him and turned to see Harry dragging his broomstick across the living room.

“Fly!” Harry said.

“Yep, we’re going to fly,” Sirius said. He glanced over at Remus, who was already asleep, and quickly cast a Silencing Charm over Harry and himself.

Sirius helped Harry mount his broomstick and spent nearly half an hour chasing him around the living room, making sure he didn't hurt himself or break anything.

“James was right,” Sirius said. “You’re going to be a great Quidditch player someday, Prongs Jr.” Harry got off his broom and held it out to Sirius.

“Pa’foot fly too,” he said.

“You want me to fly on your broom?” Sirius said, taking the broom from Harry and smiling at him. “Nah, I can’t do that, Prongslet, it’s your broom. But let’s take a break from flying and get some dinner now, yeah?” He picked Harry up and went to the kitchen, putting him down in his baby chair.

“Where’s Moo’ee?” Harry asked.

“Uncle Moony’s asleep now, Harry, he’s very tired. But we’ll save him some food so he can eat later.”

“But it’s not bedtime,” Harry said.

“That’s right, it’s not bedtime yet. But sometimes when people get tired, they go to sleep before bedtime,” Sirius said, taking the rice and chicken James had prepared out of the fridge and heating it a little with his wand. He tasted it to make sure it wasn’t too hot before putting it on the tray table attached to Harry’s chair. When Harry had had enough, he held his arms out for Sirius to lift him out of the chair.

“No, come on, buddy, you have to eat all the chicken,” Sirius said, scoping it up so Harry could easily grab it from the center of the tray but Harry spread it around again. “How do you expect to be a big, strong Quidditch player if you don’t eat all your chicken?” Harry didn’t move.

“Ok, how about this? If you eat your chicken, you can have a treat later.”

“Tweat?” Harry said.

“Yep, but only if you eat all your chicken and behave yourself,” Sirius said, tickling Harry in the side. Harry giggled and didn’t fight Sirius off when he fed him the chicken. “Good Prongslet. You listen better than I do, that’s for sure.” When Harry had finished, Sirius kept his promise and gave him some chocolate ice cream.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked, as he fed Harry the ice cream with a spoon. But Harry seemed too focused on the ice cream to listen. Once half the ice cream had been consumed and the other half wiped off Harry’s face, Sirius changed Harry into his favourite pyjamas with the little Golden Snitches on them (it was Sirius’ favourite too) (and James) and took him to bed.

“Night night to Moo’ee,” Harry said.

“You wanna say good night to Uncle Moony?” Sirius said. He glanced at Remus, who was still asleep. “Oh alright, but we have to be quiet.” They went back to the living room and Harry kissed Remus on the cheek.

“Nighty night, Moo’ee,” he whispered, waving his tiny hand at Remus. Remus’ eyes opened slowly.

“Is it bedtime already?” he asked, sitting up.

“Pa’foot gave me ice cweam,” Harry said excitedly.

“Did he now?” Remus said, smiling at Sirius.

“Yeah, well, he ate all his chicken and I did promise him,” Sirius said, shrugging. “I guess you can’t keep a secret then,” he added to Harry. “Come on, buddy, it’s time for bed.” Sirius picked Harry up and started for the stairs.

“Need me to come?” Remus asked.

“Nah, it’s fine, love. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Sirius lay Harry down in his crib but not before Harry hugged him; Sirius kissed Harry on the forehead.

“Good night, Harry,” he whispered.

“Nighty night, Pa’foot,” Harry said. Sirius left the room, leaving the door open just a crack and went back downstairs.

“Hey, babe,” he said, sitting next to Remus. “You feeling any better?”

“Yeah, a little,” Remus said. “You’re really great with him, you know?” He was gesturing upstairs.

“So are you,” Sirius said. “He’s a great kid.”

“Yeah, he is. And he really loves you.”

“He loves you, too, Rem. The whole time you were asleep he was asking for Uncle Moony. He was the one who asked to say good night to you. I had to reluctantly agree.”

“Really?” Remus asked, smiling.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, smiling back. “It’s just so unfair that all this shit had to happen to him. I guess we just have to hope that everything turns out ok.”

“But Sirius, if it doesn’t—” Remus started.

“It will,” Sirius insisted. “It has to.”

“I know, love, but if it doesn’t,” Remus said, slowly, “Harry will be in good hands. You’re a good godfather, Sirius.”

“Thanks, Remus,” he said, smiling slightly and taking his hand. “But Harry’s already in good hands. Everything is going to be fine.”

If only he had known how wrong he was. Nothing is fine. But perhaps if Sirius hadn’t been sent to Azkaban… maybe Remus was right. Maybe Harry would’ve been in good hands, had those hands not been locked in handcuffs. Maybe he would’ve made a good father figure to Harry if he had been around. However, he hadn’t been around. But he would make up for it now. He would make up for it right now by going to the Department of Mysteries to protect Harry. He would be there to protect Harry the way he should’ve been there for the last fourteen years, the way he should’ve been there to protect James and Lily. No more Potter’s would be harmed, not on his watch; Sirius would die before he let that happen.

[denwood-dragon]

Ideas of What I’m Doing

Greetings, Gentlefolk,

From the age of about 12, I wanted to be a professional author and I got super attached to that idea of myself. As far as I was concerned, it was the only thing I was good at. I have an A level (UK) and a Bachelor’s Degree in Creative Writing. I’m 23 now and I’ve only just realised that I have no idea what I’m doing. 

Correction: I have an idea of what I’m doing. I know that the best approach to any story is to be invested in it. I know the importance of the opening scene; of relatable characters; of clear description, etc. Here’s the thing: until university I wrote for fun. Sure, I wanted to be professional author but it turns out I didn’t know what ‘professional’ meant. I did okay at university. I got a 1:1 (First/A) on a travel piece and on one of my essays. For a while after university, I wrote a series of short stories called ‘The Shapeshifter Thing’. They were about a teenager who turned into random animals at inconvenient moments, like while sunbathing. I had a lot of fun writing that and I posted it online. Part of the reason I was brave enough to do that was because I didn’t really care what people thought of it. I hadn’t tried my hardest. I’d only written some short stories that I hoped people would like. (You can read those stories on my website: https://taylorkdenwood.wordpress.com/shapeshifter-thing/)

Whenever I think ‘I have no idea what I’m doing’ (specifically writing-wise but I don’t know what I’m doing in general - yay adulthood), I mean that I haven’t found a process that works for me...yet. I wanted to write full-length novels, so it’s strange to try changing my story-mindset to work with a shorter form. This is how I ended up with a series of stories about the same set of characters. While at university, I wanted so badly to be writing again that I dove into a story that wasn’t ready to be written yet. That went as well as you might expect, which is sad to me because it was a good idea. I’d like to go back to it someday. 

Post-university, story-writing is more complicated than pre-university. There’s structure and tropes and research involved. For whatever reason, I didn’t give that stuff a lot of thought when I was writing as a teenager. I was (and am) super stubborn. You could have shouted in my face that I needed to structure my stories and I’d have refused to do it because you shouted at me. Then I’d insist that the story structure would sort itself out. I read a lot and I thought I’d absorb the technical stuff without having to think about it. I don’t know if I was right about that or not.

However, it turns out that structure and research make writing more fun. Thinking about tropes you want to see more of or subvert is wonderful. Annoyed that Arwen does a lot waiting and worrying in ‘Lord of the Rings’ while the band of male heroes have adventures? Write a story where the stay-home love interest is super-important to the heroes success, or they can be the Kitchen Hero trope, making sure the action heroes take care of themselves. (Kitchen Heroes are amazing - I’m convinced the action heroes would be doomed without them).

Most of my current story ideas will require a lot of research. That in itself isn’t a problem because I love doing research. But finding a good starting point when you know there’s a lot to get through can be tricky. Knowing there’s a lot to do can put you off even trying. I’m currently learning to draw and I wish I was perfect at it from the start. Research is the same principle - I wish I could know everything on one topic from one book. Even encyclopædias don’t work like that, and one book covering an entire subject is going to be highly suspect anyway. 

When I say ‘I don’t know what I’m doing’, I also mean that, after about 10+ years, I’m still a very young writer. A lot of my convictions about writing disintegrated into flames while at university (my fault, not the university’s). I feel like I’ve had to start over. Instead of only writing fantasy novels, I want to try everything. Fantasy owns a piece of my heart that no other genre can touch, but I don’t want to fall back into the ‘everything I learn is in service of writing fantasy novels’ trap. It turns out that I enjoy writing creative essays and opinion pieces. For the first time in my life, I’ve written a short fan-fic (Rise of the Guardians - JackxTooth) that I want other people to read and like. There’s an idea in my head that has nothing to do with fantasy at all. Instead of learning stuff for the ultimate goal of fantasy-novel-writing, I want to write different stuff for the pleasure of the stuff - for the learning, for the possibility of unexpectedly falling in love. It’s like I’ve been looking through a window my whole life and just realised that there’s a whole glass wall next to it. 

If you’re super attached to one genre, or there’s a genre you’ve decided you don’t like, try to broaden your horizons a bit. Write fan-fiction, write essays, research things you want to write about. Writing is a lot more fun when you’re open-minded, I assure you.

Buh-bye, Gentlefolk

- A Hermit Dragon