Smoking often, and calling out our guilty pleasures, Let's keep talking, anything to stop clockwatching. Lately we're running out of time, aren't we? Crazy for running all the time, maybe. Let's forget we're running out of time.
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
The Stonewall Inn
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ
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Product Placement
NASA
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The Bowery Presents
Fieri Frames

Origami Around
Color Me Curious
YOU ARE THE REASON

tannertan36
Phantogram Three

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Not today Justin
cherry valley forever
ojovivo

pixel skylines

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@siriusmaturityblack-blog
Smoking often, and calling out our guilty pleasures, Let's keep talking, anything to stop clockwatching. Lately we're running out of time, aren't we? Crazy for running all the time, maybe. Let's forget we're running out of time.
My dorm smells like nothing but firewhiskey and chocolate..
Thanks..Iâll work on it.
Maybe? Shocking isnât it? Yes! We actually had sex at the boat docks. âŚ.Youâre seriously asking me this? Near the front of the castle, you prat!Â
See, you almost did it right then. I could barely tell if you were being truthful.
Oh, oh. Those boat docks. Kinky, I'd never have pegged you for one of the  exhibitionist types. I'm guessing he didn't really...sail you away?
My dorm smells like nothing but firewhiskey and chocolate..
Being sarcastic, sweetheart! Although, it is kinda attractive.
Sex! I said it ok? Yes, we had sex down at the boat docks. Not the most romantic place but it happened. I am so..you are so..nevermind. Youâre a terrible person.
You need to work on your sarcasm. Really use that guttural throat grating and the bulging eye roll.
Sweet Morgana, is today the day that Lucinda Talkalot says sex? But hold on. I thought "down at the boat docks" was a euphemism...you actually had sex at the dock. Where the fuck are the boat docks?
My dorm smells like nothing but firewhiskey and chocolate..
Youâre so arrogant. Itâs one of the many qualities I admire in you.
NoâŚhe didnât. Things just kinda escalated down at the boat docks with us..
Hm. That's a new one. Admiring me for my arrogance, I'll have to tell Minnie the next time she yells at me for egotism.
Merlin, you really can't say the word. Down at the boat docks? I guess you just didn't have an anchor. Got swept up in the ole slap and tickle.
My dorm smells like nothing but firewhiskey and chocolate..
Sometimes, I just want to throw something at you but then again...I canât. I never said I hated the word. I just..donât particularly like the actâŚmaybe because my first time sucked.Â
Er, thanks for your self-restraint, but I think I can handle whatever you want to throw at me. You don't see people complaining about having sex with me, do you?
Listen, Talkalot. Gid didn't...pressure you into fucking him or anything, yeah?
My dorm smells like nothing but firewhiskey and chocolate..
You are such an arse, Sirius Black! I am not a nun!
I never said that you were, just that it'd be a good career choice, y'know? Considering how you can't even stand the word [Raises a finger to his lips and glances around, before saying in a hushed voice]...Sex.
My dorm smells like nothing but firewhiskey and chocolate..
Ha! Nope. Iâm free as a bird, ma cherie! Oh merlin, SiriusâŚdonât mention sex.
Maybe you should just join an abbey. Quit school, be a nun. Remus can join you on your quest for celibacy.
My dorm smells like nothing but firewhiskey and chocolate..
I suppose it is. Nice smell but I think someoneâs boyfriend broke up with them. Ha!
Yours? Oh wait, you never want to ever have sex ever again. Ew, sex. Ew, Gideon Prewett.
My dorm smells like nothing but firewhiskey and chocolate..
That's a good thing, right?
More raucous than the sober ones at least! But Pa-a-ads I donât want to kiss you. You always smell like wet dog.
Aw, Prongs. Y'know it's all just a part of my charm. Birds go wild for my canine fragrance, no need for jealousy. 'Sokay, your deer-caught-in-bright-lights expression is a problem for me during sober orgies. What are friends for, yeah? If I'm not there to lick your pasty chest, who will?
âHow dare you speak as though they do not care. It is, after all, their blood that is being held hostage, carried off shrouded in limp, useless flesh. Search for your âmoreâ but first; summon a blade, a vial and return what is rightfully theirs.â
Merlin, you actually believe the rubbish coming out of your mouth?
You don't know a thing about my family. They don't give a rat's arse about me; to them, I'm nothing but a pretty face, someone to control like some kind of fucking marionette. Regulus can do that. I don't see why I'd need a blade to give them back what they deserve because they. Deserve. Nothing.
There's not nearly enough relevancy or excitement circling the air, I say.
âInteresting opinion you have.â Demetria replied dryly.
âWrong.â
"It's not an opinion," Sirius said with a very matter-of-fact tone, "Give me one example of something relevant that also happened to be exciting."
"Oh. Yeah. Definitely Slytherin, then."
Death: Lily and James
He was falling. He was falling and the impact looked painful, but panic and shock numbed his nerves and the motorbikeâs skid over potholes in the road was the only reason Siriusâs feet ever touched ground. Stumbling, he lurched forward for a few steps and started running to the door. No, no, that couldn't be it; the Dark Mark was not hanging over the Pottersâ house, that was not smoke rising from the rubble. There were other houses in Godricâs Hollow; not Jamesâs, not Lilyâs. No. Merlin. Sirius moved as if he were underwater, a deliberate push of the unlocked door, a deliberate step over the threshhold. Every second burned like clocks hidden away. His hands shook. Rubble lay strewn everywhere, an acrid smell filling the air. But Sirius noticed none of it, because there was a boy lying on the floor. There was a boy, barely a man, with messy black hair that would never stay down and spectacles for stupid vision and a stupid smile that would never quit.
Sirius cracked. A fierce heat melted the shock coating his bones, rearing up in his chest with a violent rush, because how fucking dare they take Prongs away from him? How fucking sick did Peter have to be, that slimy rat, to spy on the people who cared. How fucking stupid was he, to switch Secret Keepers, the glorious, infallible Plan? Sirius sank to his knees beside him, hands fisting Jamesâs jet-black hair, shaking Jamesâs shoulders. âWake up, you great big idiot. Wake up.â Wake up. His face so close their noses almost touched, Sirius bent over him and removed the glasses, fumbling to tuck them in his pocket. And he, Sirius Black, was not crying. These were not tears dripping onto his friendâs face, these were not tears searing a bitter, bitter anguish on his tongue.
A cry echoed through the ruined house.
Harry.
Gently, fingertips sticky with longing, Sirius drew his hands away from James and balled them into fists. He swallowed. The stairs didn't creak, no cobwebs lurked in the corners. Everything looked the same, as if nothing had happened and James was just lying there, about to wake. Any second now. It looked like six months ago, when he last came to Godricâs Hollow to give up the Secret, a smile on his face and a hopeful, stupid, naive âsee you on the other side.â Everything looked the same, but it would never be. The framed picture of the five of them hung still on the wall, glass now shattered.
Another cry beckoned Sirius to Harryâs room, walking slowly with shock sunken deep in his bones and entangling his limbs. Lily. Flame red hair as bright as life shielded her face. He didn't need the assurance of touch to know that she was dead, that they'd call her another casualty, just another name without a story. People would know her only by the colour of Harryâs bright green eyes. Slowly, he reached behind her and lifted Harry out of the crib. Harry cried.
âMummy?â
Sirius held him closer, cradling Harry in the crook of his neck, suddenly painfully aware of this miracle, how special Harry was to still live.
âMummyâs not here.â Siriusâs voice broke on the last word. And then he realised, he couldnât do this. He couldnât raise Harry, take on the staggering responsibility of this child. Not while Peter still drew breath, while the fucking traitorous, cocksucking piece of vermin got off scot-free from his crimes. Harry lived, for some unknown, ungodly reason, so Sirius couldn't let Peter do the same.
Cheeky little bastard. I love your Sirius!!
My parents were both unhappily married when I came out of my mother's cunt, thanks very much.
((Mmf, thanks. I'm working on making him more rounded, since this is my first ever time playing him, and even if you're just sending all the muns love, I love you because I'm insecure about things.))