Tbh Me Too Sometimes

Tbh me too sometimes

WHAT WENT THRU MY MIND WHEN CHOOSING FRENCH????

anyways i think regulus was actually a very good swimmer, that's why, when he entered the cave and saw the water, he wasn't afraid.

he has been swimming almost his whole life, the water makes him feel grounded, at peace. he used to go to the black lake some nights, just floating, staring at the sky -the stars- and the feeling of water made him feel at ease. there wasn't the usual loud and mean thoughts in his head, just the sound of water and the coldness turning into warmth.

when he told kreacher to go, he went to the water, and for a moment it was quiet, familiar, just like the nights at the black lake.

then the first inferi came, and then the second, third, fourth.

he was a good swimmer, but when you are being dragged down there's nothing you can do.

it was cruel, how the last thing he felt was terror, coming from the only thing that used to give him peace.

acquaintance (sirius/remus)

a/n: have a little cowboy wolfstar, as a treat. based on one of p4perback’s cowboy remus tiktokies

Cigarette smoke from out back behind the bar, wisps of grey stark against the embers of a dying sun. Two figures, leant against the wall. One tall, all legs and limbs and his lighter. The other shorter, with darting eyes and roughened hands. Just acquaintances, if you had to put a name to it. A little while along from them, another man steps out for a smoke, the old wooden door swinging on its hinges behind him.

‘Who’s the long-haired beauty?’ Remus asks, considering the newcomer with analytical eyes as he puffs smoke at the sky.

‘Handsome stranger. I don’t know him, must be an outsider.’

‘Yeah, he looks it. Doesn’t exactly dress like us, does he?’

His acquaintance shrugs, and returns to gazing at his feet. Remus keeps staring.

‘Suppose you always did like the leather look. Still, you could do me a favour and look a bit less in love with the bloke.’

‘No, no, it’s… it’s not that. I just feel like I’ve seen him before.’

‘Never were a good liar, starman. Not when you got that look in your eye.’

Later on, Remus is inside with a drink, and the ‘handsome stranger’ as he had been nicknamed still hasn’t left. Neither has Remus been able to figure just exactly who he is and it is quickly becoming sickeningly infuriating. He lets his eyes roam - takes in the canine vivacity of his smile, the easy confidence with which he carries himself, the dark locks that frame his face. He gets lost in him, a little. He’s not bad to look at. There’s a nonchalance to him that feels dangerous, yet intoxicating, and though Remus can usually hold his liquor something about this evening is making him feel tipsy. So he leans back in his chair in the corner and lets himself look, at this handsome stranger of his. Ever the observer. And is quite entirely taken aback when he’s spoken to.

‘Anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?’

The handsome stranger is, ineffably, even more handsome up close. His voice is familiar.

‘I wasn’t staring.’

‘Sure seemed like it to me.’ A smirk accompanies that remark. Remus categorises it into ‘totally unfair’ and attempts to regain composure.

‘I wasn’t staring I was just…looking.’

‘Ah, I’m with you. And I suppose you were just, uh, looking at me earlier when we were outside, yeah?’

‘Can’t a man appreciate the scenery? Not like there’s much of it in this goddamned place.’

The handsome stranger laughs at that. It’s not the most pleasant of laughs, harsh, all bark with the silver flash of bite chasing it out of his throat. This too is familiar.

‘You telling me I’m pretty?’

‘Maybe. What’s your name? I’m sure I know you from somewhere.’

‘Well, that would spoil the surprise now, wouldn’t it?’ comes the reply. ‘Come on, I’ll buy you another drink.’

Time passes quickly with this stranger of his. They drink, and smoke, and talk in riddles and get too close for comfort. It’s so very easy to do that. The two of them just fit together. Like they’ve done this all before, in some other life, or even in this one, long ago. Somewhere along the way the lines start to blur and Remus is beginning to look at his conversation partner less like a stranger and more like an acquaintance. Just an acquaintance, mind. But the feeling is there all the same. An attraction, magnetism, a spark like a splint being relit. And suddenly Remus wants to do a whole lot less talking.

‘Getting handsy there, cowboy.’

Despite the teasing remark, the man in front of him doesn’t seem to mind the direction Remus’ hands are going. Nor does he seem to mind Remus’ lips on his, as evidenced by a pair of hands wrapped around his waist and a quiet, forbidden yearning in his night-sky eyes.

‘Now, surely, I should be allowed to know. What’s your name?’ asks Remus, pulling away ever so slightly so he is free to speak without being muffled by a kiss. His question is met with a soft laugh, huskier than his bark from before, and closer too.

‘You might have earned it, yeah.’

Remus’ stranger-turned-acquaintance is breathless and hungry.

‘But we can’t go about letting everyone in on the secret, can we now? Fancy getting out of here?’

Remus doesn’t even have to think. It feels so right he can’t imagine saying no.

‘Yes.’

He wakes up cold. Unsurprising, but strangely disappointing. They rarely ever stay, he knows that, but had he really wanted to get this one’s name. Pity. He was beautiful too.

Sitting up, he stretches out and tries to blink sight back into bleary eyes. Damned back pain. His lover had been gentle, really, truly, tenderly gentle, but it was going to hurt anyways. Analytical eyes no longer obscured by the remnants of sleep, Remus scans the room quickly. Nothing much of note, except… a scrap of paper. On the pillow beside him, where he would have liked his handsome acquaintance to be.

You wanted my name, and you’ll get it. Sirius Orion Black. Remember me?

I hear I’m wanted around these parts and apparently I fetch a pretty penny too. Catch me if you can, cowboy.

Wait until you've heard about the passé simple then you can say you have truly suffered

WHAT WENT THRU MY MIND WHEN CHOOSING FRENCH????

Messaging people for the first time is so hard. What am I supposed to say? Like, "You seem really odd and your blog intrigues me. Do you want to have philosophical conversations or perhaps talk about fictional characters?" What! Whatever. I will just follow you back and stare at your blog with my big beautiful brown eyes.

Some people in the Marauders fandom (cough Jily shippers cough) need to stop forgetting that IT'S JUST FICTIONAL CHARACTERS! THEY DON'T EXIST! IT SHOULD NOT MAKE YOU WANT TO BULLY AND THREATHEN PEOPLE OVER IT. I hate saying "It's not that deep," but this time, it really isn't. Just stop fighting, ugh. I'm tired