#THE VERY END

[2many-art]

Fallen.

[blitheringmcgonagall]

The Very End

31st July 1980

“He looks just like you, sweetie,” Lily said, beaming up at James with a look of pure joy.

James stared again – at Harry’s tiny hands, at his surprising amount of black hair, at the shape of his forehead, at his tiny, cute lips. He rubbed his wet cheeks with the back of his hand.

“He’s far cuter,” he sighed, placing his hands on either side of her shoulders, tenderly kissing the top of her head again, like he couldn’t quite believe she was safe.

“He’s gorgeous,” she whispered, holding Harry against her chest, still in a daze.

“I love you both so much, I can’t find enough words…” James said, as though annoyed at himself, and using the front of his T-shirt to wipe his eyes.

“You don’t need to, James,” Lily said.

It didn’t matter that she was more drained than she had ever felt in her life, that she felt worse than she did coming back from Order missions that went awry. Harry was the sweetest thing she had ever seen, and he was their baby. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel such overwhelming love for someone she had just met.

September 1981

“Prongs? Prongs! Pick up your mirror! It’s me. Fuck, Merlin, fuck! I can't... I don't… fuck!"

“Merlin, Pads, calm down! Are you alright? You look like shit. What happened?”

“I think Remus is the spy... fuck! Remus is the spy, I know he is!”

“Don’t be daft.”

“This isn’t a joke, Prongs!”

“Are you out of your mind, Sirius?”

“Don’t get angry, Prongs, I swear it’s the truth.”

“Don’t you dare accuse Moony of-“

“The only people who knew about the Prewetts’ mission were-“

“Fuck off, I’m not listening to your bullshit! Get some sleep, you look exhausted, old chap.”

“I swear to you-“

“And eat something, damn it! And apologise to Moony!”

October 1981

“Pettigrew, you are aware of the concept of a sell-by date?”

“My Lord?”

“Shall I spell it out for my Gryffindor spy? If fresh fruit isn’t consumed by a certain time, it rots and is thrown away.”

“M-my Lord?”

“Find me the Potters, or else!”

🎃🎃🎃🎃

“Prongs! Thank Merlin you picked up! I’m not risking using the mirrors again after today, they have spies everywhere, I feel like someone is watching us right now. I need to be quick!”

“Padfoot, I’m worried about you, you don't sound-“

“Listen to me! I’ve done more research on the Fidelius Charm. If I die, the protection dies with me. We need a back-up plan! They’ll come for me anyway, they’ll presume it’s me, and when they do-”

“Fucking bloody fucking -“

“Shut up and listen! And when they do, they won’t realise I wasn’t the Secret Keeper. You’ll still be safe, a double layer of protection. We need to swap. We need to make Peter the Secret Keeper!”

🎃🎃🎃🎃

“Sirius, we need to talk,” Remus said.

Sirius remained seated, his haunted eyes looking up at him devoid of happiness.

“Yes, we do,” he answered eventually, reluctantly.

“Sirius, I can’t keep doing this, sharing a flat with you knowing that you believe me to be a traitor, that I’m working for Voldemort,” Remus’ voice shook.

Sirius pressed his lips together tightly.

“What do you want me to do?” Sirius said after a long pause.

“I can’t live like this,” Remus said.

There were tears in his eyes and Sirius couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the part of him that longed to hold Remus tight and believe everything he said.

“What do you want me to do?” Sirius said.

“I… please, Sirius, you must know I would never,” Remus’ voice sounded like he was panicking.

He couldn’t keep doing this, throwing more and more complicated wards around the flat and then lying in bed wondering would Remus let Bellatrix in, or would he be found one day, murdered by his ex-lover in his sleep. It was slowly driving him insane.

“You’re right, we can’t live like this any longer,” Sirius said quietly, digging his nails into his hands to stop him falling apart.

“Sirius, please,” Remus said. “I can explain, I’m not supposed to, but I’ll tell you everything…”

Not so long ago he would have fallen for whatever falsehoods Remus told him, anything to persuade himself that Remus was on their side.

“Don’t bother!” he said, standing up, afraid to even let Remus start to speak, in case he fell for his elaborate stories.

Hadn’t they marvelled for years at how Remus always managed to get away with pranks, the only one never to get caught?

“I don’t want to hear your lies!” he said, trying desperately to keep his voice hard.

“Sirius, you’re not yourself,” Remus whispered.

His halting voice sounding kind, how could it sound so kind, despite Sirius’ words?

“Don’t!” Sirius couldn’t keep the panic out of his own tone. “Don’t try to manipulate me. Get out!”

Remus seemed stunned now. As though he genuinely hadn’t expected this. How?

Remus nodded dumbly and started walking slowly towards his room. Where was Remus going to go? He couldn’t afford to rent anywhere, would the bastard Death – Eaters give him a place to stay, a proper place, or shove him in some hovel and –

“Wait! I’m leaving,” he called out after Remus.

Remus turned around slowly, as though composing himself.

“Pardon?” he whispered.

“I’m going, I can’t stand this place since Prongs left, since Wormy left, it’s not home, I’ll find somewhere else,” he said, throwing on his leather jacket.

“Pardon? Pad- Sirius, I can’t stay here by myself, you know I can’t afford to pay for this,” Remus said, looking at him in utter confusion.

“I don’t want your money, Merlin, fuck!” Sirius said heatedly. “I just don’t want… just stay here… so Moody can keep an eye on you!”

“What will you…?” Remus still looked lost.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what happens to me, Remus,” Sirius said, striding towards James and Lily’s old room and throwing a few of his clothes haphazardly into his black backpack.

“Sirius! Where will you go?” Remus said, and he could see the concerned expression, the worried frown.

He had to get out or he would cave.

“It doesn’t concern you any longer, Lupin,” he said, his throat closing as he tried to speak.

He watched Remus swallow.

“I won’t stop fighting Voldemort or his men, you can tell them that,” he said. “My own miserable life may be falling apart, but I never deserved any better, and that doesn’t matter, not in the greater scheme of things. The show must go on.”

“Seren1,” Remus took one step forward, looking as though he might burst into tears.

“Fuck off, Lupin, leave me alone!” Sirius gasped, frightened at his own weakness, his lack of willpower.

31st October 1981

“Marvellous news, Wormtail,” Voldemort says, griping Peter’s shoulder and causing the small man to nearly faint with shock. “I haven’t felt this elated since I can’t remember when!”

Voldemort looks positively radiant, and Peter…

Keep reading

[rollercoasterwords]

i think. i don't want to jinx it but i THINK. that i might finish writing thtf this weekend.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The math just adds up!

[hellenhighwater]

When my nephew was four, a friend of the family passed away. The man was in his 90s and died of natural causes, and we were going to the funeral. We sat my nephew down and explained who this was, and that he had passed away, and now we were going to a sort of quiet party to celebrate him, and that there he might see the gentleman in the casket, and he might be very still, because he had died, but that everything was alright.

My nephew contemplated this calmly for a few minutes, and then said, "I think he will be very flat."

What.

It turns out that at age four, my nephew's only real context for death was roadkill, which he frequently pointed out while we were driving. He therefore believed that the only way anyone died was getting run over by a car.

[abracadaze]

i feel so bad for nikola tesla like imagine spending years beefing with a guy who has conned the public into believing he's some sort of supergenius when in reality it's his overworked employees developing all of his world-changing inventions and you end up dying broke and starving and alone and then 100 years later another guy cons the public into believing he's some sort of supergenius when in reality it's his overworked employees developing all of his world-changing inventions and he's doing it all IN YOUR NAME. he must be rolling in his grave like a fucking rotisserie chicken

[redsray]

I love the idea of the Wayne kids dropping extremely vague and disturbing comments during galas. Especially when in uncomfortable situations or if they're just bored. They pull out things from their nightlife too. Other times they just make shit up.

Socialite: Oh, dear, your cheeks look so sullen! Who sucked the life out of you?

Tim, dead serious: An old man with a goatee.

Socialite: Uh... what?

Dick: Once I broke my knee so badly that I swear I could see part of the bone sticking out.

Socialite: Good lord. How on earth did that happen?

Dick: Just clumsy gymnast things ^^

Socialite: The white streak is certainly a bold fashion choice.

Jason: I saw someone get decapitated once, so I could be doing worse in terms of what's on my head, yknow? At least I have one.

Socialite: What's your favourite colour, sweetie?

Damian: Red.

Socialite: Oh that's lovely!

Damian: Like the blood of my enemies.

Socialite: Oh.

Socialite: You must be new to these kind of events.

Duke: Uh, yeah, they're kind of scary. But I've had worse.

Socialite: Worse.

Duke: Well I've been left on top of a skyscraper before with no way down just to 'get over my fear of heights' so, yes.

Socialite: You don't talk very loud, do you? I can barely hear you.

Cass, with a straight face: If I spoke any louder every glass in the room would shatter.

Tim, behind her: I can vouch.

[doggirlhen]

they should make shopping for cables easier i think. there should be a service where you pick the ends, you pick the length of cable, you pick the like. color and texture of the cable (shitty plastic, nicely woven, bare metal, whatever) and then they make it and ship it to you for a reasonable fee

[twilight-zoned-out]

Learning about the Doctor Who specials' expanded budget: oh no, what if they overuse CGI to look more 'professional' and high-budget?

The first scene of the Doctor Who Special:

[helyeahmangocheese]

hey gays how are we feeling knowing she leads her cabin to change the tide of the battle of manhattan after her patroclus dies in her armor? i feel really normal and ok about it lol.

[oobbbear]

I want to post this here too because I’ve seen it happen a few times

Please understand that there are cultural differences and language differences, if you see this happening let the person clarify what they meant, that person might just not be familiar with words the western side of the internet use

[hrokkall]

"Sad Cat Poem" by Spencer Madsen

[wanderer-clarisse]

early morning sunlight at Bag End

[inkskinned]

probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.

[araneapeixes]

lesbian bed death - goth girls are easy

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[heavierthanlaila]

Palestinians and their everlasting love for their cats 🥺❤️