warharbinger-blog

[warharbinger-blog]

sirvusblvck‌:

the sound of a slamming book rings through the apartment. thankfully the russians are wordy bastards, their thick tomes causing a satisfying bang. now detested of his reading, sirius turns in his chair, dislodging a pillow in his haste, and extends an accusatory finger towards remus. “stop acting strange.” his eyes narrow. granted, the two of them reading in relative silence while ignoring the other’s present wasn’t unheard of. remus was the only one of sirius’ mates that he could be quiet around, a rare still. but the other boy is smiling and behaving almost, well, nice. and sirius has heard from several people that he is much too irritating to deserve niceness.  “you’ve done something haven’t you?” his pointed fingers becomes a wild gesture, flying wide into the air. for no clear purpose other than the visual effect. “out with it, did you donate my clothes to charity? get mud on the carpet? sleep with lily?” his eyes widen with the last statement, voice rising an octave. a part of him already knows what this is about but he will protest until the last. @warharbinger

“Sleep with Lily? That would be wildly stupid ... -- did you sleep with Lily?” Remus attempts a joking tone, though he knows it’s fallen flat ( as it’s not a particularly funny joke in the first place, that’s definite ), “that’s a wild question, Sirius, but you do have a creative mind.” He says, earnestly, not with the same sarcasm or playful lilt, he knows Sirius is right, he knows that he’s been acting too nice, too accommodating, not enough playfulness, but that’s what you do when someone dies -- isn’t it? How was he to act when Sirius was acting like his brother wasn’t just found on the street, MURDERED? Was he supposed to act the same when nothing was the same -- no matter how much Sirius tried to act like it was just another day? No. That would be emotionally irresponsible, though he was no therapist, he wasn’t an idiot and he didn’t have it in him to act as if the world hadn’t changed for one of them. 

“You’re acting as if I’m acting strange, but really, you’re the one acting strange,” he closes his book with the same slam Sirius had, finally looking at him. “You know EXACTLY why you’re acting strange, too, Sirius.”

[warharbinger-blog]

sheweapon‌:

a thick silence hangs over the ministry bathroom. it’s the kind that leaves you out of breath, out of depth —- somehow suffocating you from within. but bellatrix pretends not to notice, instead focusing on her reflection in the mirror, a bony finger carefully adjusting her lipstick, making sure that she at least looks the part that she is supposed to play. the part that she has come to hate. “ it’s a shame, don’t you think? “ she says, and her words sound far more thoughtful than they are. there are few things she still care about, these days —- this persona she has adopted is far down on the list — and one she is very much ready to drop. and then again - her mask is slipping. slowly, but surely. “ washing our streets in pure blood? what a waste. “ it’s almost as if it isn’t her own cousin that she’s speaking of. so very detached, so very reckless. where is that heartache now, that started all this? for family? for legacy? for bloodlines? how far has she fallen? “ shameful how the order has become so utterly evil, isn’t it? to murder an innocent boy in cold blood… makes you think twice about who you’re supporting. “ 

Emma knows better than to argue with any member of the infamous Black family but she doesn’t stop as her eyes roll and her face contorts into something annoyed. Something confused, underneath the annoyance because that was her cousin -- her family -- the other woman was talking about it so clinically. What did the Order matter in any of this? & to believe that Regulus Black was innocent completely ( none of them were innocent ) would be foolish. But Emma wasn’t one to shit on the dead, it just wasn’t right. “Well, I’m not sure if we’re talking the same streets as I’m a HALFBLOOD but I know I’m not supporting the side that kills people based on blood status, at least.” Emma lets a beat pass before speaking again, going to dry her hands on a towel. “I’m sorry for your loss, he was your cousin, wasn’t he? I heard he was a good Seeker. Merlin knows we need more of those.”

[warharbinger-blog]

oracleisms‌:

           “ i’m so sorry to bother you, but by any chance have you seen my cat ? she’s missing and i’m worried SICK. ”  sybill is standing outside the three broomsticks and she is still smiling despite the lack of success so far  —–  has been hanging flyers and handing out photos around hogsmeade all morning but no one is helping her has any information.  sybill hasn’t seen luna in a few days, she missed thursday tea time and luna has never missed thursday tea time  (  luna’s favorite is oolong and sybill had brewed a large pot for her yesterday, drank it all herself when she was stood up and couldn’t sleep because of it  —–  which just gave her more time to obsess over what could be wrong.  )  “ please, do you have a MINUTE ? ”

    “Where’d you see her last?” Remus wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to help search for a cat, especially with someone so obviously concerned with their cats well being. Though, he wasn’t sure he was the best person for the job as many a feline being had an adverse reaction to Remus -- he suspected it was the wolfishness. Still, it wouldn’t stop him from trying. “You’re not bothering me, really, this is a TOP priority -- a lost cat in these times is scary. Let me see a flyer, yeah? I’m sure she’s got to be around here somewhere.” 

[warharbinger-blog]

andrmedatnks‌:

WHEN: january 30th, 10:32pm WHERE: the hogs head WHO: open

      𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 — 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃. plastered on the headlines of every paper, on every doorstep. she couldn’t escape it even if she tried. and what was worse was that she couldn’t even mourn. because it wasn’t fair — she wasn’t a black. she was an onlooker. she was supposed to read the news, shed a tear and move on. but regulus — little regulus. little regulus who she’d watch grow. little regulus who was too young to understand when she walked out. little regulus who she’d never had the chance to apologise to, who she’d once loved so deeply and who had once loved her. she’d never said goodbye — i’m sorry — i still love you. and now she never could. but there was no one to talk to — except, maybe, sirius. and yet a part of her didn’t dare try and find him. and so instead she sat where she so often did, at the bar of a seedy pub in hogsmeade, slowly nursing a dry whiskey.  ❛ this seat’s taken, ❜  she lied to the figure who was hovering beside her. she needed her space. little regulus black was dead, and she had no choice but to mourn. 

“Too bad,” Emma replied, taking her place beside the woman and rolling her eyes. Some people obviously didn’t grow up with too many siblings to count on one hand and were way too touchy about personal space. She was surrounded by the news, if she had been looking more carefully, she might have recognized the woman as Andromeda Tonks -- the Black family was all over the papers and while she was no longer a Black, Emma knew you could never really disconnect yourself from your family. No matter what you did, like a chain that couldn’t be broken, but she was not in the right mindset to be aware of her surroundings and in that moment and did not recognize the woman. Instead, she just saw a woman who was being way too prickly to be in a bar like the Hogshead -- though, she supposed it did fit the environment. “You’re the only non shady looking woman in here, I’m not sitting in this place ALONE. Not today. I’ll buy you a drink, if it helps.”

[warharbinger-blog]

warsstag‌:

“ —– what are you stealing my smokes for? “ he asks, offense creeping into his voice. “ could have asked. “ the crisp morning air isn’t enough to wake him up, and neither is the sharp sunlight that cuts through the clouds, seeping directly into his eyes. he is standing outside of the ministry of magic, coffee cup in one hand, cigarette in the other —– the image of health. glasses are a little awry on his nose, his hair looks like it could use a good combing through ( though, when doesn’t it? ) and he looks like the last time he slept was… possibly in the previous decade. but at least he got his cigs. or at least, he used to. now all he’s got is a half smoked one, a cup of stale coffee and a pounding headache. fucking hell.

“I don’t get usually get my own, sorry mate, but I’ll share with you, whats yours is mine,” Remus handed the rest of his cigarette to James, after taking one long last drag and blowing it out. It was a stressful time, to say the least, it was war.  Regulus Black was found dead and they had a best friend to worry about -- if only Peter were there too. “I’m WORRIED, for Sirius. I had to stress smoke. Usually I’ll smoke something a little more green for times like these but I can’t just be smoking pot on the street now, can I? I’ll be seen as a menace to society and we can’t have that. That’s your old title, Auror Potter,” he teased his friens, giving him a light claps on the arm before giving James a serious look. “How are you holding up? Gotten any grey hairs yet? You look about Dumbledore’s age.”

[warharbinger-blog]

#relatable

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queenofquills‌:

TRAGEDY SELLS PAPERS. she knows that, perhaps a little too well. especially when it just happens to involve one of the sacred 28 —– so naturally, rita is armed to the teeth, a quill being squeezed between slender fingers, a sympathetic smile resting on lips that are painted a dangerous shade of red. “ i can’t believe he’s gone, “ she says, and forces her lip to tremble ever so slightly. “ did you know him? “ there’s a pause, and her gaze becomes a little sharper. meadow green eyes scan her target, as if they were some sort of high esteemed item at an auction. “ i’m just… “ she trails off. eyebrows pull into a frown. “ i have to get a couple quotes about him for the prophet, but it feels so sudden. “

“Heard of him,” she starts, because she has -- rumor has it he was the Slytherin seeker after her and though she never knew him, she’s heard. Lucinda knew him, didn’t she? The mystery shrouding his death didn’t concern Emma because people died every day now, why should it? If anything, it was a bitter reminder that the war was claiming more lives, a reminder that her sister’s murder was still a tragedy unsolved. “I’m not sure what you want me to say, maybe we should be wondering why people like Regulus Black get a front page and the other dozens that get killed barely get an obit. BUT THAT’S NONE OF MY BUSINESS.”

[warharbinger-blog]

marvmacdonald‌:

@warharbinger asked me to use a line from the last movie I watched ( roma ) as a starter ( meme. accepting. )

“We are alone,” said Mary, her words not louder than a huff of air. Her eyes trailed over her hands for a moment before looking up at Remus. “No matter what they tell you.” There was something uncoiling in her chest, a feeling of dread and sadness and bitterness. They were always there, of course, those feelings — but as she spoke, it seemed as if they were being rudely woken up, shaken and trashed around. She took another hit from the spliff, passing it back to Remus. “When it comes down to it, you’re always bleeding alone. Don’t even know if that’s a bad thing.”

“Blimey,” their conversations sometimes went like this, at the drop of a hat, their bitter reality hit them both like a freight train. Remus knew she was right, though he had been afforded a kindness of not being alone now during his transformations -- he remembered when he was completely alone. He knew when he turned into the monster, he was the only one doing so. But that? That wasn’t something he was going to bring up now. Taking the spliff, he took a long drag, considering his words, “ live together, die alone, I know they say that but what’s got you thinking about all this? Besides, WELL, the impending death & dreariness that lurks around every corner during a war. Regulus?” 

[warharbinger-blog]

❝ I wish I could say that I am a LIGHT that never goes out, but I flicker from time to time. ❞

             REMUS LUPIN. 20. PISCES. FORMER GRYFFINDOR.                        HE/THEY. DEMI-MAN. ORDER.              HALFBLOOD. WORLD’S WORST DRUG DEALER. 

CHARACTER INSPO: ( he doesn’t need much because he’s remus fucking lupin but ): lucas sinclair ( stranger things ), dizzee kipling ( the get down ), monty green ( the 100 - that show can ROT but! ), malcolm ducasse ( jessica jones ), william hill ( this is us )   if captain holt and terry jeffords from B99 had a kid – it would be remus.

LINKS: pinterest       

BIO: 

The story of Remus Lupin is one known by many people – his friends, his family, but what people don’t know is what’s in between the cracks. The man in the monster, the boy who he was and the person he’s grown up to be.

There was a time when Remus felt more boy than burden, though he can hardly remember it now and his family cannot either, there was a time. The Lupins were a happy family, they had moderate means, they weren’t the highest class in Wizarding Society but they weren’t the lowest and they made up for that in love – as cliche as it might sound. Remus had one foot in the muggle world, and loved it, Hope would take him on adventures ( having been an adventurer herself ), teaching him about feminism & muggle politics but be back in time to make dinner for when Lyall came back from work. For five years, that’s how it went, an easy, happy cycle that Remus grew up knowing as home. It was home, and his parents were so in love that Remus could only sit back to admire their own admiration for each other. They thought that they’d go on like this until Remus was in Hogwarts, and they’d talk about it for hours on end.

The night Remus was attacked was the night everything turned upside down. Remus’ life might’ve been saved, but ever since then he’s wondered: was it worth it? Was he worth it?

The guilt that Lyall felt propelled him to forget about what his family actually needed and instead, what he needed to forgive himself for what he had done to his son. It was then Remus knew he would have to take care of his family just as much as they would now have to take care of him. No matter how many days of the month would be normal, young Remus would wake up after that full moon torn apart, hurting, crying, confused, and the guilt that he felt was something he could only learn from his father. Hope, like her name, tried to keep the family alive and normal but Lyall refused to let things go back to normal until his son was back to normal. The truth was, even if there was cure, Remus John Lupin was irreversibly changed – there was a whole part of the Wizarding World he came to know at a young age that was not magical in a positive way. Sometimes, Remus still thinks ignorance might’ve been bliss, or maybe if they had put him down like the animal he was his family would’ve learned to move on but his father never did. Lyall could also never accept that Remus was what he was and would continue to be that. The Lupins, a once beautiful household with a life like clockwork were broken – and Remus knew it was all his fault.

Hogwarts, while a nice reprieve, gave Remus a sense of fear and he was determined, absolutely determined to keep to himself. He would not be an affliction onto other children, he would not burden them, he would not form relationships only for them to be embarrassed & repulsed by what he was. But he didn’t seem to have a choice – James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew chose him and never let him go. His brothers, his family, his soulmates, he never knew he’d be able to feel such love for other people who weren’t blood. It was with that love that he got that he started to return, it was then people found that Remus had a sense of humor but an even greater capacity to love – everyone but himself. When his best friends became animagi for him, he cried, he cried because he was relieved that he wouldn’t have to be so alone. That people cared enough about him to do also transform themselves into animals so they could be with him. To this day he doesn’t understand it & is convinced he never will, but it doesn’t make him any less grateful. Without them, he knew he’d be much more miserable than he was, without them, he feared he’d be nothing but a problem his father made him out to be. That he’d be nothing but a monster. They, along with the friends he’s made are his humanity and it’s why the in this war he’s prepared to do whatever it takes to win because he can’t lose them. He’ll lose himself, his mind, his soul, before he loses the people he loves. 

LIL NOTES

WORLDS worst drug dealer, it started because he bakes an amazing pot brownie & other baked goods. People told him he could sell it and he made connections with a lot of people within the Wizarding world and otherwise that have ailments in which his weed brownies give them relief? So Remus just felt bad charging people, The person he gets his weed from loves his brownies so much, he gives Remus weed JUST so he can make them for him and his business. Plus, the person likes Remus and the brownies help his Grandma. If anything, he’s happy to be lending his existence and his skills to helping people in a real way -- he knows the Order is important work too but this brings genuine joy to people’s faces, something invaluable in the middle of a war. He’s a big intellectual stoner but uses it the most during the before and the aftermath of transformations. 

Remus is real fucking petty. He can be real passive aggressive. Intensely self loathing. Those are what I would say his worst traits are. If Twitter was a thing, he’d be getting into so many fucking fights and definitely the subtweeting petty arsehole friend. If you confront him about it, he’ll be calm and direct, sometimes, or he’ll feel STUPID for being called out because he knows whoever is right and storms out dramatically. 

The women and femmes in his life are the most important -- in regards to his gender, he’s always felt really traditionally feminine in a lot of ways and really loves leaning into those gender roles & stereotypes. He’ll come over to your house to tidy, he’ll make you a cuppa and some baked goods ( baking was something his mother taught him to do and she passed down an outrageously big cookbook to him ). When he lives with people, he’ll clean up a storm, he’s very much one to sit down and talk about feelings even though he’s shit at sharing his own. Remus will never be able to understand his gender though, because he doesn’t have the tools and sees himself as so much monster that it’s a lot to unpack. In modern times had he survived, Remus would’ve put himself in fucking therapy after the second war to be a better husband and father. In fact, he would’ve been a proud stay at home dad who could give some of those Real Housewives a run for their money when it came to drama and pettiness. Ugh, SCENARIOS MAN. 

Cheeky and sarcastic AF. 

I’m sure there are people within the Order, at least higher up, that know that he’s a werewolf like I can’t imagine they don’t? Dumbledore has sent him on missions with other werewolves, sure, but he’s not accepted and though Remus is willing to do just about anything for Dumbeldore -- he couldn’t stay away from his friends that long and has been focusing on being a soldier more than anything and taking as many dangerous missions as he can because when he’s not suffering™ through transformations he’s a quite useful soldier. 

I’m sure I’ll add more but!!!! that’s it!! so far!!!

[warharbinger-blog]

History is history, Amma.

Sharp Objects (2018-) Dir. Jean-Marc Vallée  

[warharbinger-blog]

(…) I search in these woods and find nothing worse than myself, caught between the grapes and the thorns.

Anne Sexton, from Kind Sir: These Woods in “The Complete Poems Of Anne Sexton” (via mirroir)

[warharbinger-blog]

❝ To / have survived the ever-present restlessness of stars. / Wake now. All that we mourn is here already. ❞

               EMMA VANITY. 26. GEMINI. FORMER SLYTHERIN.                         SHE/HER. CIS-WOMAN. NEUTRAL.                HALFBLOOD. SEEKER FOR PUDDLEMERE UNITED. 

TW: MENTIONS OF RACISM, DEATH, DEPRESSION, BULLYING.  LINKS: PINTEREST

emma comes from a big family. the vaynshteyn’s needed to rebuild after the holocaust and wwii. they changed their name to vanity, it was easier to pronounce and an even easier way to assimilate. their blood was muddy, with many muggles and halfbloods in their family but moving to wizarding britain was a sturdy choice. emma is one of ten, one of the  many middle children who grew up in a loving but competitive environment. everyone had to be good at something, little emma frankly didn’t care for it, she was their supporters, their number one fans in everything they did. quidditch wasn’t even on her radar until her family saw a natural talent she had for it during family pick up games. emma swore up and down, she wasn’t in it for the competition, it was exhausting, she just wanted to have fun. she was good at it though, they wanted to nurture it -- the whole family. 

during every shabbat it came up that emma should’ve been doing more than just their little pick up games, that they should put her on a league. emma always rolled her eyes, spitting out a comment with the dry wit & exhaustion of a 90 year old man. they wanted her to WHAT? with whom? often, on shabbas, she’d tsk them, throw a jab at her oldest brother jacob for being obviously jealous that his failed music career was becoming more tragic by the month so he had to pick on someone smaller with more promise, cross her arms, keeping relatively quiet the rest of the night. 

they were a loud, loving, chaotic family, they were proudly themselves, emma loved how she grew up even if she acted exasperated as all hell with them at times. family means everything to the vanity’s, they made their children with care, her parents would always say. emma would pipe up, we get it, you had sex, you made children. everyone would groan, then laugh. it was a serendipity that was untouched from tragedy again for a very very long time.

not long enough, but that’s later. 

racism was still a thing in the wizarding world, whether jkr wants to acknowledge it or not, and while there were poc -- the temple that emma went to was not as diverse as it could’ve been. some of the people she grew up with, though well meaning, were ignorant when it came to being jewish and being a person of color -- many just assumed that emma and the rest of her family were sephardic. the muggle world even in their own community was a little perplexed by this family, but let them have a place to pray and with time welcomed them. emma is no longer as religious as she was as a kid, especially when she started to attend hogwarts most of the year. her siblings only instituted that they had friday night dinners together, but how they chose to practice was up to them. 

hogwarts was an interesting transition for emma, being sorted into slytherin was unexpected and emma wasn’t really the biggest fan of her house going in -- many of her housemates didn’t help with making it a better place for her. she left them alone though, even when they sometimes didn’t leave her alone. when they fucked up her shit, she said her piece and got on with her life. for her first year, she didn’t try to rock the boat at all -- she just observed. some could say she was lying in wait. 

when a group of classmates fucked up her little sister’s shit in her second year, she hatched a plan. some of them happened to be on the quidditch team, right? they fucked up her family, they had tried to fuck her up her time at hogwarts, she’d fuck them up with her presence by trying to get on the quidditch team. when she showed up for try outs, eyebrows rose, a few snickers here and there. what is she doing? she’s just going to add fuel to the fire. when she got on the team in her second year, they were stunned into silence. there was a respect, sure, but there was an anger born from being bested -- emma felt proud but also noticed how she felt good on the field then, proving everyone wrong, not because she needed to but because quidditch was fun. it always had been. 

when her family found out, they freaked. she got three howlers, one from each of her parents and one from her oldest brother jacob saying he was only so bitter because he believed in her so much & emma heard her oldest sister, miriam, yell BULLSHIT in the background. her family came to every one of her games, they cheered her on until they lost their voices, embarrassing emma but there would be moments after games where the best part wouldn’t be actually winning or playing, but seeing her family come together the way they did. seeing her parents so passionate about her, seeing them all so proud. 

to this day, her quidditch is what brings them together being on puddlemere united as their seeker has been nothing short of a privilege, emma knows. but the question of whether or not she would’ve gone as far with quidditch as she did if it wasn’t for her families reaction to it hangs over her head constantly. she knows, she knows they’re being supportive, she knows they were just so unbelievably happy for her that they couldn’t contain it, she knows staying with quidditch was her choice - but god, her family is everything to her. they deserve happiness after everything, she was giving it to them, it had to be enough. 

plus, she was good at quidditch and with practice she was excellent. she gained respect from her housemates, even the prejudiced ones from whom she never wanted their respect because it meant nothing to her -- but they treated her family with more respect by extension, which meant everything. as the years passed, she became captain and emma could say that quidditch was something she enjoyed doing. not just because she was given respect, not just because it felt good to be good at something, but it was a good way to pass time, it improved her life in so many ways, why not dedicate herself to it? when her body gave out, whenever it did, she could find her passion, but this was what she was going to do when she left school -- this was her path -- for now. 

the war got worse, emma’s older siblings were members of the order ( only one at the time was an actual member, the rest were supporters ), but emma felt guilty when she wanted nothing to do with it. not because she didn’t believe in them. she did. her family knew the hard way what had to be done in war to survive & to win, emma couldn’t fathom being able to stomach it. what needed to be done. she felt angry at herself and weak, ever so conflicted, quidditch proved to be the best distraction as she graduated and got onto puddlemere united and she threw herself into the team, the life, the people. straying farther away from her faith, she missed at least one shabbat a month, she never came to temple anymore ( except for the high holidays ), she started to stray a bit from her family. they came to most of her games, still, but there was some tension as emma had been relatively quiet about the war in general -- a topic that the family brought up during almost every conversation. 

what was she supposed to say? she’d never been one to easily reveal her emotions, in fact, she was a private person because she wasn’t always one to talk about herself -- it was just how it was. she wasn’t closed, not really, just not welcoming. this subject brought her shame and guilt, she didn’t want it on display for her entire family because she knew she should’ve done more, that she could’ve. but she wasn’t built for war. she didn’t quite know what she was built for, but it wasn’t war. 

when her youngest sister adina was murdered in a death eater attack almost a year ago, the combination of guilt, grief, anger & trauma started to eat away at her. a small crisis began -- what was she meant for? what was she supposed to do with her life? her family reeled at the loss, they lost the youngest and perhaps the brightest ( in smile, in life -- she had so much more to life to live ) of their family, it was devastating. the love that had always been there was still there, sure, but things that you wouldn’t say to someone you loved no matter how true it was, were said. individual traumas and issues that they were working on, came to the forefront. they may have known how to rebuild, but rebuilding took blood, sweat and tears and they all felt bled dry. 

emma watched her family explode and simply imploded. she’s found herself dealing with depression that makes her isolate herself or distract so intensely she’s almost hurt herself from playing quidditch too much. still, she keeps playing it -- the last year the sport has served as a pillar for her family to hold onto -- emma by proxy. she’s been able to carry herself with grace despite feeling anything but graceful, she’s been able to carry on, which is more than some of her family members can do. since her sister’s death, she’s found herself trying new thing after new thing, trying to find what makes her life full of passion because death is everywhere, it has touched her family, she feels selfish but if she doesn’t find something she loves for herself, she’s worried she’ll lose it. still, as each day passes she feels more and more guilty for not joining the war effort in any way -- sometimes she feels like a coward -- but knowing herself as much as she can, she knows she could do more harm than good if she joined a cause she couldn’t properly contribute to. morally & spiritually it’s the wrong choice, she knows, but when the time comes she hopes she’ll be able to help rebuild the world when the war is done. 

[warharbinger-blog]

“I know it feels like you have all the time in the world. But you don’t. So stop playing it so cool.”

[warharbinger-blog]

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Caroline Forbes [best underrated scenes] ♔ 11 / ∞

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100 aesthetic summer challenge

#70 Mermaids

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