"Hermione and Neville remind me so much of what we know of the friendship between Lily and Remus. Remus was very much the outsider and Lily the smart muggleborn who was always helping him when the rest rejected him."
Draco totally would’ve taken tons of selfies at Hogwarts
- "Crabbe and Goyle and I up in this bitch"
- "Potions Class #SlughornMoreLikeSnoozehorn"
- "*snake emoji*"
- "Turnt up #FirewhiskeyNation"
- "I’m so fancy"
- "Green and silver green and silver you know what it is"
- "Hit me up *snake emoji…again*"
- "Granger’s nasty ass bushy hair…can’t see the front of the class"
- "Haha my drawing of Scarhead #art #photography #Potter"
- "My sick new ride #Fatherboughtmeanewbroom #FuckyouPotterIwin #Imrich look how rich I am @ronweasley"
- “push yourself to get up before the rest of the world - start with 7am, then 6am, then 5:30am. go to the nearest hill with a big coat and a scarf and watch the sun rise.
- push yourself to fall asleep earlier - start with 11pm, then 10pm, then 9pm. wake up in the morning feeling re-energized and comfortable.
- erase processed food from your diet. start with no lollies, chips, biscuits, then erase pasta, rice, cereal, then bread. use the rule that if a child couldn’t identify what was in it, you don’t eat it.
- get into the habit of cooking yourself a beautiful breakfast. fry tomatoes and mushrooms in real butter and garlic, fry an egg, slice up a fresh avocado and squirt way too much lemon on it. sit and eat it and do nothing else.
- stretch. start by reaching for the sky as hard as you can, then trying to touch your toes. roll your head. stretch your fingers. stretch everything.
- buy a 1L water bottle. start with pushing yourself to drink the whole thing in a day, then try drinking it twice.
- buy a beautiful diary and a beautiful black pen. write down everything you do, including dinner dates, appointments, assignments, coffees, what you need to do that day. no detail is too small.
- strip your bed of your sheets and empty your underwear draw into the washing machine. put a massive scoop of scented fabric softener in there and wash. make your bed in full.
- organize your room. fold all your clothes (and bag what you don’t want), clean your mirror, your laptop, vacuum the floor. light a beautiful candle.
- have a luxurious shower with your favourite music playing. wash your hair, scrub your body, brush your teeth. lather your whole body in moisturiser, get familiar with the part between your toes, your inner thighs, the back of your neck.
- push yourself to go for a walk. take your headphones, go to the beach and walk. smile at strangers walking the other way and be surprised how many smile back. bring your dog and observe the dog’s behaviour. realise you can learn from your dog.
- message old friends with personal jokes. reminisce. suggest a catch up soon, even if you don’t follow through. push yourself to follow through.
- think long and hard about what interests you. crime? sex? boarding school? long-forgotten romance etiquette? find a book about it and read it. there is a book about literally everything.
- become the person you would ideally fall in love with. let cars merge into your lane when driving. pay double for parking tickets and leave a second one in the machine. stick your tongue out at babies. compliment people on their cute clothes. challenge yourself to not ridicule anyone for a whole day. then two. then a week. walk with a straight posture. look people in the eye. ask people about their story. talk to acquaintances so they become friends.
- lie in the sunshine. daydream about the life you would lead if failure wasn’t a thing. open your eyes. take small steps to make it happen for you.”
— Fifteen Small Steps to Happiness
#can we talk about #how much amy #probably reminds the doctor of donna #like #not even the whole ‘oh they’re both ginger sense’ i mean#just #wow #and so when amy says she wants to go home #like donna did that one time #the doctor’s like #well #damn #not again #and even when she says not like that #the look on his face #it kills me #because he knows that he SHOULD take her home like that #he knows what will happen to her in the end if he doesn’t#but he keeps her with him #and he hates himself for it (via freyjas)
^WHY DID YOU DO THAT?
An old project from last year. One of a set of three. To extract the book from its box, both ends of the ribbons must be pulled at once. Pulling only one will get nowhere.
Two people connected by the red string of fate are destined lovers, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch, tangle, and knot, but will never break.
ϟ The Magic Begins Challenge: A Character You Feel the Need to Defend — Petunia Dursley
sitting in silence with your best friend is actually really nice because youre together and youre just happy to be together even if the both of you are just scrolling through tumblr and twitter because you occasionally point something else to the other person and laugh and maybe talk but youre just comfortable and together and thats enough
Meet the Blogger | Favourite Female Characters [3/5] Hermione GrangerMudblood, and proud of it! I’ve got no higher position under this new order than you have, Griphook! It was me they chose to torture, back at the Malfoys’!
AM I EVER.
Listen, this guy went through hell. Remus went through hell, and in so many different ways, but let’s remember that he’s not the only marauder with a tragic backstory.
Because Sirius was a pureblood, rich, with the world at his fingertips, yes, but at what price? He endured this terrible childhood, which I’ve rambled so much about and have barely skimmed the surface. Because the Black family? So much mental illness. His childhood? So repressive. His mother? Emotionally abusive and manipulative. He grew up in this macabre, restrictive household with this literal insanity. He rejects it immediately, the moment he’s given a choice, and spends the rest of his life rebelling against it.
He finds relief in the Potters and in Hogwarts, but he still has to return to this hellish home on breaks – this prison – where it becomes unbearable. Finally, he snaps and he gets away, escapes, but he can’t save his brother. His baby brother, who is joining the death eaters, who stand for everything he hates and the Blacks love. He’s lost his family, both the family he loved and the family he despised. It’s all…gone.
He’s got all these inherent issues-bad blood, for one, born with such a predisposition to mental illness, then he’s raised in an environment which fosters that mental illness to the tenth degree. Adolescent Sirius has so many familial issues and his morality is shades of gray and he’s full of contradictions and he has so much anger but the one thing he has is the Potters-they’re his family, his parents and brother. When prongs marries Lily, and maybe before that, she becomes family, too, and when they have Harry, he comes a godfather and an uncle.
It’s war, and it’s hard, but they make it work? He’s busy, he’s fighting, he’s making a difference, and this is so hard but it’s probably the best sense of balance he’s had in his entire life. He’s not quite grown up but he’s maybe on the cusp of it, or something like. He’s terrified for James and Lily and Harry, he’s wary of Remus, his mate, but who else could it be? Everything is the war, and the Order, no time for anything else. And it’s the right thing to do, saving innocent lives, and
It’s over. The world is celebrating and his is falling apart. He can feel himself unravelling as he sees the cottage, corner in shambles. He finds his brother and he goes numb. He thuds up the stairs, the dead inside growing, and he sees Lily lying there. But Harry is, inexplicably, alive. Hagrid won’t give him Harry. So he gives up his baby, his precious motorbike, because he’d give anything to help keep Harry safe. He’s concocting a half-baked plan in his mind, as his grief is raw and turning into rage-the rat.
He tracks down Peter with single-minded obsession, he can’t think about them or the baby or anything just yet-not until he’s avenged their deaths. And it happens so quickly, Peter kills all those people, frames him for the murders. But he’s right, isn’t he? It’s his fault, it was his plan. He’s innocent, but he doesn’t feel innocent. He laughs because the madness that’s always been there, just on the brink, that he’s always been able to keep at bay, is washing over him, and that’s fine, because it’s better than the grief. They’re carting him off to Azkaban, probably, and he deserves no less, he’s already worked out that it’s his fault. It’s cruel – a sick irony – but there’s a beautiful poetry about it just the same.
It’s 12 years. Four-thousand, three hundred something nights spent lying awake, listening to screams and moans and wails, to the madness in his own head. He doesn’t know if he’s gone mad anymore, but what does it matter if he has or hasn’t? He lies there listlessly, rotting, waiting for death to come. Because what’s the point of any of it? He can’t go back and change any of it, he knows that, but he can’t help but dissect every conversation, every action, ever suspicious death, what he could have said differently, if he could have just seen it and saved them. He spends months reliving Number Twelve, which he’d escaped in physically, but the Dementors thrive on the emotional scars left behind. It unhinges him completely, right? Wouldn’t it do that to anyone? He’s got no motivation to escape, because he blames himself, and it won’t bring them back anyway.
hen he sees that paper, and the rat, and that drive comes again. He escapes and trails Peter and keeps an eye on Harry, who looks so much like James, who flies and has a horrible home life and is so much like them both. Harry saves him not once, but four times that night-from Snape, from becoming a killer, with his patronus, and by setting him free. Harry wants to know him as much as he wants to know Harry. And suddenly, in the absence of despair, in the absence of revenge, something else wells inside him-hope? Love? He doesn’t remember, exactly, but he’s determined not to let it slip away.
And he doesn’t. He clings to it-that feeling. It keeps him going as he spends the next few years on the run- in cold, dank caves and warmer climates, sending letters he can. He talks to James about Harry, about how proud he’d be. But what does he keep on about? Harry. All he wants in the world is to give Harry a home, for them to be a family, but they can’t, not yet. So he writes letters. He visits when he can. He lets Harry know that he’s looking after him.
Voldemort comes back and Sirius is forced to return to his childhood place of torment, to be shut up. He has a new, terrible appreciation for how James must have felt shut up at the Hollow, except James had Lily and Harry to keep him occupied. It’s a different version of Azkaban, Number Twelve is, one tailor made just to torture him-an elf that despises him, a portrait to hurl the old insults, the walls that confined him. It’s all just a reminder of the place he thought he’d finally been freed from. He spends hours shut up in his mum’s room, in his own room, with a smelly hippogriff to keep him company, rather than inflict his volatile moods on everyone else. And he’s got to stay there, forced into inaction, lest he be discovered and sent back to Azkaban.
But what does he do during this time? Everything he can, to the best of his abilities, to reach out for Harry. He welcomes him into #12, lets him make his own decisions, explains what he can about the Black family madness, insists on escorting them to the Platform, so he can say goodbye, opens his house to the Order HQ, looking after Harry, hosting Christmas, explaining about James, which Harry is having his crisis after seeing that memory of Snape by the tree. He’s worried about these lessons with Snape, proud that Harry’s doing these defence lessons, knowing about the prophecy and knowing he’s one of the few who knows what that means. He does all of this while trying to live a normal life, something he hasn’t done for nearly fifteen years. He’s daunted by simple things-like eating at a table and changing robes-new habits to readjust to, and othes, like holding conversations and having regular visitors. And of course, he’s frustrated because he’s shut up and can’t get out, haunted by the ghosts of his childhood, literally and figuratively.
And then Harry is in danger, and he runs to protect him, doesn’t give it a second thought. For the first time in a long time, he feels truly alive, he’s making a difference, an active difference, but then the realization hits him as he falls through the curtain. It’s cruel – a sick irony – but there’s a beautiful poetry about it just the same.
So listen, you go through all of that and tell me you can keep your shit together, yeah?
Sirius LOVED Harry. Was it complicated and messy? Yes. Were lines blurred in the-they both saw James in each other? Yes, but how could he not. Dumbledore said it best when he said that Harry was beginning to see Sirius as a mixture between father and brother, and it was the same for Sirius. And it completely devastated Harry when Sirius died. He was in denial that he was actually dead for so long, and then angry, and then listless, and it was all horrible. Horrible.
Like go read this where I ranted about how Sirius was actually a very good godfather by keeping so much from Harry.
Or check out my harry-and-his-dead-godfather tag and weep with me.
There’s nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can’t see,
So try me on and i will tell you
Where you ought to be.