#i miss harry already

[keepyourbliss]

short dale cooper x harry truman drabble <3

a/n - finished season 2 of twin peaks tonight. this is something of a fix-it fic for the season finale, though it’s very jumbled and overall Not very good because my mind is still reeling a little. bear with me x

it was a chilly winter’s day in twin peaks when dale was scheduled to depart; he and the sheriff stood outside of the station of which dale had grown so fond, a car waiting to take him to the airport. he had mere minutes to say his goodbyes- he bid farewell to everyone, lucy, andy, hawk, and just about everyone else at the station until he reached harry, stood by the car, waiting for him.

the hug they shared was nothing short of torture. inner torment, affection, perhaps notes of regret, all translated through profound bond alone in an embrace neither man wanted to bring to an end. alas, when the two parted, much too soon for both parties, the bitterly cold air filled the space between them and with a silent, agonising meeting of eyes, the realisation that their time together had come to an end came tumbling down on the sheriff like a ton of bricks.

harry had known dale would have to leave sooner or later, the case would either be solved or go cold, although something told harry dale wasn’t one to simply let a case go unsolved. not if he could help it. he stared ahead at his partner, mentally capturing how the reddish tint from the cold teased at the pale skin of his face. in that moment, and not for the first time, he fancied dale the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen. he felt unwell.

he wanted to take the agent back into his arms, hold him like a vice, kiss him endlessly, let everything he hadn’t said freely flow out of him; ‘i love you,’ ‘please stay,’ ‘take care of your hands,’ he wanted to say, ‘they have carried the world.’ instead, he tore his eyes away from the man before him, reaching an unsteady hand into his pocket and pulling it back out, revealing a small object pinched between his fingers. dale’s eyes followed harry’s hands as they arrived to his front, level with the agent’s. harry placed his free hand atop cooper’s, warmth coursing through him at the touch of his skin, the numbing cold forgotten as he rotated the agent’s hand so he was cradling it with his own, and gently placed the object in his palm, cautiously shielding it from the breeze. only when he was certain dale had a grip on it did harry drop his hands, albeit reluctantly.

the agent rubbed his thumb and index finger back and forth with the fly hook held firmly between them, twirling it and watching the feathers stutter in the wind. a beat passed; a car horn sounded; both breaths caught. their time was up. “harry-“

“don’t, coop.” the sheriff shook his head, just barely, pleading silently. dale fell silent once again. harry adjusted his hat to occupy a hand and stuffed the other in his pocket, knowing that if he didn’t, the urge to grab his partner’s own would get the best of him, and he couldn’t count on himself to ever let go. his heart hammered like the hooves of a young, unspoiled racehorse, the sound of his blood pumping relentlessly filled his ears and an all too familiar, wretched sickly feeling took command of his stomach as he took a small step back, beginning to turn. his knees weakened and he wobbled on his legs. his balance was uneasy as he walked away, and he felt queasy and achy all over. he felt as though his breath had been stolen as he pitifully resisted taking that last glance at the perpetrator; the thief who had gradually robbed him of both his heart and soul from right under the poor sheriff’s nose- but he could wallow in self-pity later.

the sheriff grudgingly caved and risked one last look, turning toward the car, his heart jumping to his throat when his eyes met cooper’s whose were veiled through the dusty window. his eyes were fixed on the car as they followed dale’s own, until harry watched the car disappear down the lane. he tried not to think about how everything good he had left had disappeared with it, along with any chance of true contentment, leaving him in the dust with nothing but the clothes on his back and a cavity where his heart once was, filled with regrets and pondering the what-ifs.

[jaywriteshome]

Happy 10 year anniversary to midnight memories

I love this era and album so much :’)

[watchmegetobsessed]

[harrylights]

present day H&L but give them both long hair <3 done as a req for @loustomlinson ✨

[reyenii]

— is bubbles a lady of the night? — no, no, that’s my best friend!

[atlasdoe]

today (May 2nd) marks an entire year since i last updated Only Survivors so to prove to you that i am actually writing the next chapter here's a snippet

"And where are your school friends today, Severus?" Emmeline asked, feeling the blood rush into her ears with each word.

Snape looked unfazed. "One of them Is currently working at Hogwarts alongside me," he answered with a smile. Aurora Sinistra, Emmeline recalled.

Snape went on. "Another is working with children across the UK. She's helping provide homes for those who lost their parents during the war." Charity Burbage. "I'm not sure what one of them is doing. After the war he left and I haven't heard from him since."

Emmeline had a hard time placing that one before Remus scoffed with an eye roll. "Yeah, that's because he wasn't just a Death Eater but a liar," he accused, causing Emmeline to remember. Ah yes, Edmund Avery Jr.

Severus shrugged, but didn't say anything in response, he just continued. "Two of them were killed during the war." Evan Rosier and Juliette Wilkes. "And the last..." he sighed and finished his drink. "The last is in Azkaban." Bruce Mulciber.

Emmeline expected Snape to show some kind of remorse. She thought that he would cry or admit that he didn't spend their school years with the right people as she had seen Pandora do so many times since Frank and Alce's torture. Only Snape didn't seem sorry at all. Instead, he turned to Remus.

"Two are successful," he said simply. "That's something you wouldn't be able to relate to."

Remus' jaw clenched but he stayed silent. Snape smirked slightly and spoke again. "Two are successful," he repeated. "One I haven't heard from in years, two were killed and the last is in Azkaban." Their eyes locked as Snape's smirk grew. "What was that you were saying? About how different we are?"

"Don't you dare," Remus hissed, standing up despite his bad knees and pushing the table away. "Your friends killed my friends!"

"My friends had nothing to do with the death of Lily, James and Peter," Snape argued, also standing up and mirroring Remus' stance leaning across the table. "The person who killed your friends is called Sirius Black, and you know more than anyone that he is anything but my friend." Snape's head tilted, as his face suddenly grew an amused expression. "What was he to you, Lupin?" he mocked.

Remus' face did something that Emmeline had never seen it do before. All expression of anything gentle had been replaced with what could only be described as his wolf side coming out. She, along with Gilderoy both held their breath as they watched the two men stand off.

In the past six years that Emmeline had gotten to know Snape and Remus after the war, she knew that neither of their first insistences would be violent, but at that moment it looked as if Remus was about to transform into the wolf and kill Snape there and then. Snape's face still held the cruel smile. He knew that he struck the exact nerve that he wanted to and as much as Emmeline wanted to hate him for it, she couldn't. Snape was right. They really weren't that different after all.

Something in Remus' eyes told Emmeline that he was thinking the same. She didn't know if she should've prepared herself for him to hit Snape or hug him. In the end, he did what she really should've expected him to do all along, considering it's all he ever seems to be capable of. Remus didn't face the facts head on or even try to deny them. He just drew back and walked away.

That was the difference between them, Emmeline realised. At least Snape had the courage to not run away from his past.

[theflikchic]

One of the biggest letdowns in history is when Cinema Therapy did a two-parter on Severus Snape and then instead of actually doing what they do for literally every episode (aka really deep-diving into the character psychologically) they spent the entire two-parter debating if Snape was a good guy or a bad guy.

[itscuntingseason]

Parts of my 2nd Disco Elysium playthrough that stood out to me (bc my first playthrough was very short)

Getting close to Cuno and taking down his dad (i hated interacting with Cuno during my first playthrough bc i just thought he was annoying);

Cuno seeming genuinely sad and betrayed when you choose to not give him the drugs;

The whole story with Billie Mejean (i came across the working class corpse during my first playthrough, but barely talked to billie. when she said her husband was missing, it clicked for me and my heart broke);

Kim (and Acele) asking you if you are okay after the ice cop hat interaction;

Lena holding onto the hope that cryptids are real because she believes her marriage wouldn't have worked otherwise;

Jean sounding genuinely excited when you say you might remember some stuff (i barely talked to him during my first time and it somehow didn't click for me that he was 'man in sunglasses');

Joyce giving you 100 réal if you ask really nicely;

Asking Lilienne out on a date with Kim next to you, and her asking Kim if he wants to come along (she was trying to have her Challengers moment);

GETTING THE HUGE SWORD;

Kim being worried about you when you speak to Joyce about the pale, alone;

Gaston confessing that he genuinely loved René after he died;

"Say one of these communist or fascist things or fuck off".

[bumblingbabooshka]

On the topic of Harry and Kes being proteges to Janeway and Tuvok respectively - both of them developing mommy/daddy issues despite having perfectly normal and healthy relationships with their parents.

[short666bread]

Prev 10 Next

[bossymarmalade]

I have no regrets about the past, there's nothing I can change Life's a road you walk just one way down But looking back, I do recall that frame of time When the world was love and time was just a thought

[sunkissedlouis]

I’M NOT OK I’M REALLY NOT 😭😭😭😭😭

[or-we-could-take-a-walk-together]

Euphoria x marauders

Sirius: hey Mary

Mary: oh hey pads

Mary: wait, are you in the play?

Sirius: what play?

Mary: lilys play

Sirius: what do you mean lilys play?

Lily: Oklahoma

Mary: wait the play’s called ‘Oklahoma’?

Lily: no, the drama club is doing Oklahoma

Sirius: oh my god, do I look like I’m in Oklahoma?

Mary: why would your play be set in Oklahoma?

Sirius: you thought I was auditioning for Oklahoma

Mary: I haven’t read it

Sirius: are you making fun of me or did you actually think I was auditioning for Oklahoma?

James: why the fuck would you audition for Oklahoma?

Sirius: I’m not!

James: then why the fuck do you look like you’re auditioning for Oklahoma?

Sirius: do I?

Peter: yes

Mary: has everyone read Oklahoma but me?

Peter: Oklahoma is not like a play you read

Sirius: dude are you on drugs?

Mary: yes.

James: you relapsed?

Mary: nah, I’ve just been smoking a little bit of weed.

Peter: wait, I don’t understand; if you’re not auditioning for Oklahoma then why do you look like that?

Sirius: like what?

James: like a country music star

Sirius: in a good way or a bad way?

James: bitch, you better be joking.

Peter: are you ok pads?

[narukoibito]

since feeling is first who pays any attention

Summary: Ginny has done her fair share of watching Harry over the years.

AO3 | FF.net

Note: This was originally a gift for the wonderful @remedialpotions for the 2020 Harry & Ginny Discord's Incognito Elf gift exchange that I always wanted to rework before posting! I decided to expand it and add more missed moments, one for each of Ginny's years at Hogwarts.

Special thank you to @takearisk-ao3 who not only beta'ed last minute but also created the above beautiful banner when she had no idea what this story was about aside from my poor vibe descriptions! And, hah, it's my birthday again, so why not post today?

since feeling is first who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you; wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world

my blood approves and kisses are a better fate than wisdom lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry —the best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other: then laugh, leaning back in my arms for life's not a paragraph

and death i think is no parenthesis

— e. e. cummings

i.

Ginny presses her face against the wall, peeking between the stair spindles. Her eye lands on the two boys hunched over a chessboard. It’s her brother Ron and Harry Potter, who, despite appearing to be losing, doesn’t seem the least bit upset.

Harry Potter.

The Harry Potter is in her house. Looking comfortable on their couch despite the faded, mended cushions. His face crinkles in laughter at something Ron says, his green eyes bright with contentment. Ginny doesn’t miss the occasional look of awe at the things she has always taken for granted. It’s almost as if he can’t believe he is really here in their ordinary home.

He isn’t what she expected—isn’t what she imagined he would look like after all those years listening to Mum recite her favorite bedside story, about the heroic Savior of the Wizarding World. She had pictured neat hair, a dashing smile, someone who would recognize a comrade in her and take her on all sorts of adventures. He would be different. He wouldn’t discount her dreams of flying or of doing everything her brothers could and more. Instead, Harry Potter has the messiest hair ever, a sheepish smile, and clothes that he nearly swims in.

Oh, and he has somehow missed the memo and found a comrade in Ron instead.

Her fingers curl around the spindle. Not for the first time, a spike of envy shoots through her. If only she were a little older. Or a boy. Then maybe she would be the one playing chess with Harry. Maybe she would be the one to hide under his invisibility cloak and battle trolls and face You-Know-Who with him.

Ginny presses her face a little closer and lets out a sigh.

But Harry Potter is kind. He ignores all the times she has made a fool of herself. And he has the greenest eyes she’s ever seen. They are as green as those glowing jars of pickled toads at the apothecary Mum sometimes takes her to. Pretty and kind and not at all dismissive of her patched clothes or her glowing red face.

Harry Potter. If he likes Ron, if he actually likes the Burrow, if his face grimaces at the attention at Flourish and Blotts, could it be possible that one day he could like her too?

“Going to ask for his autograph, Ginny?”

Ginny lets out an uncharacteristic squeak as Fred sidles up against her, with George flanking her other side.

“Or are you going to yell at us about how the great Harry Potter is different?” George teases.

“Not just brave—”

“But humble too!”

“What a catch.” Fred pretends to swoon.

“If only he’d notice me, Fred.” George sighs dramatically.

Ginny glowers at them, shoving away from her hiding spot. “Stop it.”

“Or what?” Fred and George laugh, loudly enough that Ron and Harry glance over curiously. Already she can feel her face flame even as her eyes narrow.

“Or I’ll tell Mum about that powder you snuck into your rooms.”

She turns her heel just in time to see her brothers’ faces drain of color. With as much dignity she can muster, she storms back up the stairs. She immediately collapses on her bed, but the soft afghan does nothing to ease the embarrassment that burns behind her eyes.

The worst part is that there’s no one for her to talk to about how seeing Harry Potter—or him looking at her—sets off a blazing sensation somewhere in her chest that horrifically travels up to her face like a rash. It’s foreign and strange, nothing she’s ever experienced before.

She has no one to talk to about it. Ron has hardly spared her a second glance since Harry arrived. Fred and George tease her mercilessly. Percy, preoccupied with his shiny badge, just tells her she should focus on her studies so she can be a prefect like him one day. And there is no way Percy or Mum would let her borrow an owl to send a letter to Bill or Charlie.

Maybe some things are best kept secret. She’s used to taking matters in her own hands, picking locks the Muggle way after watching Fred and George do it. The hum of power under her fingers when she steals their brooms reminds her that age, gender, and size don’t define her. She’d rather they stop being berks and let her fly with them, but she has grown to love the uninhibited freedom of flying at night. And it’s made a touch sweeter by the thrill of something being just hers in a house and family where everything is shared.

Still. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, someone to confide in.

She’s brimming with foreign feelings, the bursting anticipation of finally, finally going to Hogwarts. It’s all she’s ever wanted since Bill went, so much that she snuck into his luggage, craving escapades and escape. All these feelings are strangely accentuated by Harry Potter in her home.

She lets out a sigh, finally unburying her flushed face. Her gaze falls on her cauldron, filled with the fanciest, most expensive, brand new books that Harry Potter had gifted her (her, not Ron, not anyone else). The thought makes her insides flutter.

Maybe if she studies hard, Harry Potter might see that she’s not too little and annoying. Maybe he will tell Ron to let her stay, let her join them.

Ginny is pulling out Year with the Yeti when a small black notebook slips onto the floor. She stares down at it for a moment, temporarily dazed. Had Dad bought this for her?

The little journal is faded but retains a simple prettiness, almost as if there’s more to it than its worn cover. Something about it seems to draw her in. Mum always says never judge a book by its cover.

She leans down to pick it up, and a small thrill shoots up her arm. Her fingers skim over the clean, crisp pages.

She hardly ever gets anything of her own.

So unaccustomed to being without someone her age, she’d taken to chronicling stories, events, and adventures—placeholders for the real thing—as a way to cope without her brothers. Dad would peek into her room sometimes, his eyes twinkling when he caught her writing. He must have known she’d want to remember every moment of her first year at Hogwarts. Ginny presses the book against her chest, falling back onto her bed.

How much of it will be filled with the Boy Who Lived?

[mylittleredgirl]

What is your Hogwarts house?

kind of a suspicious question to ask a stranger in the year two thousand and twenty three

i don't have one, because i was never into harry potter. if i did, i would have renounced it by now, because so many trans people in our community have specifically said, repeatedly, that identifying ourselves by hogwarts houses on tumblr either marks us as unsafe people or makes us indistinguishable from them.

asking a tumblr user who has never mentioned reading harry potter about their hogwarts house feels like offering a terf secret handshake.

[rainbowsunflower]

Harry being... very Harry. 🫣

Love on Tour 2022 - NYC n2 (X X)