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#*yes this is a harry potter reference
willbyerstoledo · 1 year
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emotinalsupportturtle · 3 months
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I just got an absolutely genius idea (stupidest idea ever). In Good Omens season 3 Jesus should be played by Robert Pattinson, that way he can face off Barth Crouch jr and Aro at the same time
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I forgot to post all the photos I took last year when I visited the cloisters and took photos of everything that made me think of Hogwarts from the movies/video games
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jeanthebeagle · 1 month
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A little Sirius sketch 🐾
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lunar-serpentinite · 1 month
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i giggle thinking abt how drarry can be called a dragon x phoenix couple bc draco is ofc the dragon for obvs reasons and harry can be attributed to phoenixes esp w his coming back to life deal, his wand core and his connection to fawkes
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zooophagous · 2 years
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Styx is hard to get a picture of but hes one of my favorite invertebrates.
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padfootastic · 1 year
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in a turn of events that doesn’t surprise anyone im sure, @impishtubist has caused yet another scene to be stuck in my head until i wrote it down. so, have some sexy, greying sirius; a deeply thirsty, appreciative james who won’t let him dye it; and a very-fed-up-of-his-parents-antics harry for prongsfoot wednesday!
x
Harry entered the house with ‘I’m home!’ on his lips that died an instant death as soon as he registered what he was seeing.
“Er,” he hesitated. Does he really want to—? One more look at the scene in front of him and he decided to bite the bullet. Better to clear the air now than keep stewing on it later.
“Um. Is this a—kink? A fetish? Should I leave and never come back?”
In any other scenario, the way both his parents froze and looked at him with wide eyes would’ve been comical.
If only Dad wasn’t straddling his Papa on the ground, one of his hands holding both of Papa’s above him with disturbing ease.
“Er—“
“It’s not what it looks like, Haz!” Dad yelped, cutting across Papa who’s face and neck were turning a steady pink. “I swear.”
“Then why are you still—like that?” Harry asked, deciding to play it safe and look at the boring grey couch in the living room instead. Nothing scandalous going on there.
He could hear the scrambling of feet, a few thumps, and a mini-yelp, absently wondering about the amount of noise the simple act of getting up could produce.
“Right.” Dad cleared his throat. “So, Harry, would you please tell your Papa that he is, under no circumstances, allowed to dye his hair?”
Harry blinks, turning to his other, exasperated, father in silent question.
“Harry, will you please tell your Dad that this is my hair and I can do with it as I please?”
“Not when you promised yourself to me!” Dad yelps and Harry is hit with an intense wave of regret at instigating this.
“Promised—?”
“Yes! Our wedding, you said, and I quote, ‘I give myself to you, James Potter, mind, body and soul’, don’t tell me you forgot.”
“Of course I didn’t forget,” Papa throws his hands up in the air. “But c’mon James—this is not what I meant when I said body!”
“What, you think I only wanted you for that ars—“
“Dad!” Harry, yelps, mortified. He can feel his cheeks heating in a violent blush. He can feel a similar flush creeping up Papa’s neck. Sadly, his words don’t have the deterring effect he’d intended.
“I mean, it is spectacular, don’t get me wrong, but you’re more than just a beautiful body, Si!”
“James, please, have some mercy for our child, if not me,” Papa says. Thankfully, this seems to register as Dad’s eye widened, part horror and part apology. Harry waves it away tiredly; though he’s no less embarrassed every time it happens, growing up in the Potter household with two extremely affectionate parents has exposed him to much worse. He’s accepted it as his lot in life.
“Er—yeah, anyway,” he coughs, ruffling his hair, “Bottom line—Sirius isn’t allowed to dye his hair.”
“I literally never agreed to that.”
“Too bad because you will,” Dad says, slowly moving towards Papa with a look on his face that Harry is loath to describe as predatory. If only it wasn’t so true.
“Oh?” Papa’s left eyebrow rises extraordinarily high, as it tends to do quite often. He crosses his arms over his chest in challenge. The motion makes his Dad smile.
“Mhm.” The two of them are chest-to-chest by this point, staring into each other’s eyes. Harry could probably conduct a whole rave party right here, right then, and they wouldn’t even notice. That is when he decides it’s high time he should step in—not literally, Merlin, no—before they end up doing something that makes him try to run away (again).
“So I was right—it is a kink,” Harry says dryly, once again regretting starting this entire conversation in the first place. He should’ve just turned back around and gone to the Weasleys instead.
“Harry, no—“
x
Three years later, Harry—who’s almost blissfully forgotten about the entire incident—walks into his parents’ house to an almost identical scene, just with his Papa on top this time. This time, he makes the sensible choice he still regrets not making all those years ago, and walks right back out the door.
Let those two sort it out on their own. Merlin knows his intervention hadn’t helped a bit the last time around.
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dustyspines · 8 days
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Six years after walking out of his life, Albus Potter reappears on Scorpius Malfoy’s doorstep.
And, on any normal day, it would’ve been fine. Welcomed, perhaps. It had been the only thing Scorpius longed for all those years: reuniting with Albus. Except it isn’t a normal day. There are no more normal days, not anymore.
Atropos, they call it. The meteor. Six months away, traversing a dead-end path all the way to Earth. And if you’d asked Scorpius years ago who he’d want at his side on his last day alive he would’ve said Albus. Now, with a lot more life lived under his belt, he isn’t quite so sure.
But, as it seems, he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. Because Albus is persistent, Scorpius still hasn’t moved on and, when it comes to the two of them, there is no such thing as ancient history. There is only here and now and six months for them to figure out where it all went wrong.
chapter one: esse chapter two: quam chapter three: videri
read on ao3 here ♡
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stupendousbookworm · 2 years
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from that one post from six months ago
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phoebe-delia · 2 years
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fate left scars upon his face with all the damage they had done
I'm having some writer's block at the moment, and when that happens I tend to sort of go one of three ways. 1. I don't write. 2. I write hurt/comfort. 3. I write about something kinda revenge/badass/dramatic.
And THEN the new MCR song came out, "The Foundations of Decay," and it sooo fit the fic and gave me intense Harry vibes, so it's now a songfic.
Also this is dedicated to @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm, the biggest MCR fan I know.
CW: brief smoking, CW: mentions/heavy discussions of and references to canonical child abuse, CW: mentions of and references to physical and emotional child abuse, CW: mentions of scars, Also Dumbledore bashing. Finally, a huge thank you to the lovely @crazybutgood for the very helpful beta! Enjoy some cathartic angst!
Harry’s robes clung to his skin, sodden and soaked with the rain. But despite the wand safely and conveniently stowed in its holster, Harry didn't cast a Warming Charm or an Impervius. He simply let himself shiver against the cold and the boots become muddied as he trudged through the forest, past rows of crumbling headstones to the large, ornate marble tomb.
He stopped several yards away, close enough to see the tomb in all its regal glory but far enough not to make out the name he knew was carved worshipfully into the stone.
Harry stared at the ornate display, so incongruous with the natural greenery of the surrounding trees. Silence hung thickly in the air, a sickly sweet kind of peace that spread over everything like molasses. The rain had slowed to a moderate drizzle, its rage beginning to quiet.
Fitting, really, since Harry's was just beginning.
“Did you know where I got the scar on my face?” he asked the tomb, letting the sound of his voice prod at the static stillness.
The marble had no reply, so Harry continued. “I wonder if you noticed it when you saw me again for the first time. I wonder if you saw my face and recognized my forehead and then looked at my cheek and did a double-take at the scar that ran across my tender skin.
“It was still pretty new, at that point. It wasn’t the first they’d given me, but the others were a bit more hidden. There’s a place on my back where he broke the skin with his belt, and when I snuck into the bathroom to clean it, I couldn’t reach. And there’s a burn mark on my leg, where she threw a pot of boiling water at me. Not to mention the fact that I still flinch when I hear the oven timer go off, and the smell of brandy makes my skin crawl. You don’t see those scars; no one does. That doesn't make them any less real.
“And I never knew what I did to deserve it. Never knew what my crime was, exactly. I tried to stay small and quiet. I tried to be as good as possible, to be of use to them, worth keeping around. Worthy of food, water. Worthy of life.”
Harry walked closer, watching raindrops slide down the smooth marble. He stared right at it, pretending he was looking straight into twinkling blue eyes. 
“And I don’t know why you never seemed to notice me tugging down the sleeves of my robes for the first weeks of each school year. I don’t know why no one, other than my closest friends, seemed to care that I would eat ravenously for the first few days and that I’d start tucking non-perishable food into my pockets at the end-of-the-year banquet.
“You know, when I look back at that time, the difference between you and them becomes more and more blurred. Sure, they made me feel like shit most of the time. But at least they were honest,” he spat. “You lied to me. You acted like you cared about me, and now I realize that all you ever cared about was keeping me alive. Not happy, not fulfilled, not loved—alive. 
“And now you’re gone, and I’m so full of grief. I’m grieving for Sirius—” Harry’s voice cracked, but he continued, “who you abandoned to rot in Azkaban. And for Remus. And my parents. And for myself, because you let me die, little by little, every day for 17 years until I was just broken enough to fix the world.  
“I don’t miss you, but I mourn the fact that I’m having this one-sided conversation with a slab of fucking rock instead of with the coward buried underneath. I wish you were here, not because I want you in my life, but because I want the satisfaction of cutting you out of it forever.
“This,” he said, gesturing to the tomb, “is an altar to a false god. You weren’t the infallible, wise elder everyone wanted you to be. You were just as fragile and weak and dumb as the rest of us; you were just better at faking it.” 
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He slipped a cigarette between his lips and held the lighter to the other end, revealing the flame with a soft click. He let it ignite the end of the cigarette and tucked the lighter back into his pocket before he sat down on the long marble slab, leaning back on a hand as he studied the engraved words in front of him. He used his free hand to take a drag of the cigarette, blowing smoke right over the headstone.
“You told me to pity the living, and not the dead, and that all sounds very poetic and profound, but I’ve done both,” Harry said, before pausing to take another drag. “And I know this…life, post-war, is still going to get harder before it gets easier. But I’ll prove you wrong. Because I don’t need you to tell me fortune cookie truths about life. I value my friends and my family. And Draco, who knows the scars on my body and mind nearly as well as I do, and who makes me happy and fulfilled and loved.” He glared at the headstone with defiance. “I will make my life into something you can’t pity me for.”
With that, Harry leaned over and tapped the ashes of his cigarette against the headstone, letting them spill a bit before he crushed it against the slab and let it drop there, the last bits of smoke still curling into the humid air. 
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stolen-atlas · 2 years
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Despite his namesake, Regulus always did picture himself to be akin to Icarus.
He yearned to know what it must feel like to be loved so deeply by the sun himself.
He would gladly spread his arms and laugh as he fell, just to feel a moment of James’ love.
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It’s so disappointing to see content creators still constantly reference Harry Potter, it’s exhausting- especially because it shows their tone deafness as they ignore, or are unaware, to so many issues as they try to “not be political”
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aeoneskova · 1 year
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7 Up :)
Thank you so much @pretentiouswreckingball for tagging me in this! I’ve been wanting to share a snippet of the honey honey epilogue so this was the perfect chance to <3
Rules: post 7 (or more) lines of a wip you've been working on
This is a little snippet from Harry’s Pov, in the summer before he gets put in Marlene’s class:
To prevent himself from doing something stupid, like burning the house down when he was forced to make breakfast, Harry tried to spend as much of his time outside. There was a park down the street he often went to, where he could hide beneath the slide and scratch things into the bottom of it with a sharp stick. In large, jagged letters, he had carved Harry was here into the metal, marking the spot as his own. Unfortunately, however, Dudley and his little gang had discovered this hiding place last summer, so rarely did Harry get much of a break there.
Tagging@friendofthefrogswastaken @arakhnee @thebloatedfrog @waririses @miss-interpretation and anyone else who wants to share! <33
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Nothing makes you eat humble pie faster than seeing an incredibly standard and famous ship name you’ve seen a thousand times before and genuinely thinking for a moment that it’s referring to characters from a show that like three people on tumblr have ever heard of
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littlespyeye · 1 year
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What the hell is a Hufflepuff?
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And proud!
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safetea · 2 years
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ok so i wanna start reading again but i have no idea what i like anymore 🙈✨ send me your favorite books!!
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