* RAGE / AGAINST

Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight. And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way. Do not go gentle into that good night. independent multimuse account. written by karli.

[survivalworn-blog]

apcgee‌ // PETUNIA.

This apathy was something she’d prepared herself for long ago. It was expected, even welcomed. No amount of therapy could make Petunia not appreciate a little well deserved flagellation. Her fingers tightened on the teacup as she gave him a tiny, tight smile.

“I found some more. Another box.” Another secret, hidden stash. “I thought I could tell you about them, if you came today. I was never very good at writing letters.” Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the bundle, wrapped in a faded, tattered pink ribbon. Undoing the tie, she spread them out – pictures not just of a smiling redheaded little girl, but two people who would have been slightly vaguely familiar to Harry. A large man whose sternness was undercut by the way his eyes seemed to smile, and a petite, angularly shaped woman who seemed perpetually caught between a scold and an laugh. Of these he would have at least seen a few occasional pictures, but never as familiar as those of Vernon’s family. His maternal grandparents. 

Petunia had never spoken of them much, either. One might have thought she would, with them being her parents, and Dudley’s grandparents, but aside from the occasional story, rare comment, they were another thing she’d keep carefully tucked away. 

“Lily was always the brightest person in the room. Da, your grandfather, always said she got it from Mum. Mum said she stole it from her when she was born, and she couldn’t be happier because it was always a lot of bother.” Her lips curled into a wistful smile as her fingers brushed again one photo of the pair, decked out in Christmas jumpers. “It was our father’s family tradition that daughters were named for flowers, you know.” Dudley was already saying if he and Susan had a baby girl, they’d name her Heather. Susan just pointed out that first they needed to get pregnant. 

       The pictures scattered on the table and, as usual whenever Harry saw pictures of his parents without warning, he could feel his heart jump with anxiety. Not necessarily a bad feeling. He remembered back with Moody, who had thrust the pictures of the dead at him and he’d needed to leave the room. But Harry had come a long way since then and, for the most part, the pictures were appreciated.

      He touched them gently, picking up one of a family he barely knew. His grandparents were recognizable from back at the Dursleys. But he never heard many stories about them, either. Sometimes, when he was little, he would wonder what his life would’ve been like if they weren’t dead too. If he’d gone to live with them instead of his aunt and uncle. Only... he learned that pretending and imagining didn’t help anything and went back to trying to be as small as possible. But now — he’s grabbing the pictures greedily, gaze on a little red-haired girl with green eyes. Lily’s smile was huge and all encompassing. Harry blinked, trying to picture that smile on what he remembered his mother to look like at the time of her death.

      She would’ve smiled at him like that as a baby. He knew enough about her to know she loved him.

      He hated how desperate he must’ve seemed to his aunt.  Pulling the pictures towards him, unable to get enough. Even with the racing heart and tight feeling in his stomach, he was desperate. There was no one left alive he could ask about his mother. His father ... it seemed as though James would be a mystery forever. There was no one with stories and pictures about him. His eyes were glued to the pictures — unmoving — as he listened to his aunt speak.

      Every word was a new fact, tucked away. He wanted to meet them. All of them. His grandparents. His parents. Meet them beyond a thin form of people ready to walk him to his death. ❛ I didn‘t know that, ❜ he said, his gaze shifting upwards from a picture of Lily riding a bike. ❛ I mean — I knew your name and my mum’s... I knew those were. But, uh, I didn’t know that. ❜ Would that be something he’d wanted to do, too? Had he gotten to have a normal life with Lily Potter?  

      He thought of Pansy Parkinson. And Petunia Dursley. Flowers sometimes had thorns. ❛ Was her middle name a flower as well? ❜ It was almost a shock to realize he didn’t know.  

[memecxllector-blog]

mun related

send me one ( or more ) of the following.

✮ ━ top three favorite muses that you’ve played

♫ ━ a small playlist for a muse of your choice

ღ ━ favorite canon ships for your muse(s). are there any you dislike?

✄ ━ do you have any artistic abilities? If so, what can you do?

☀ ━ how long have you been roleplaying? how did you get into it?

❤ ━ do you have any crackships for your muse?

♕ ━ which fictional characters are your favorites?

回 ━ what are your top four favorite shows?

◈  ━ share some headcanons that you have for a muse of your choosing

↓ ━ have you had any bad experiences with roleplaying?

☾ ━ how many pets do you own? if none, what kind of animals do you like?

♣ ━ share five random facts about yourself

[survivalworn-blog]

@kingwsly // RON.

       The hallway was dark when Harry stepped into it, wand in hand, clutching tightly but not as hard as he would’ve been five years ago. He yawned despite the urgency of the situation. If someone were really trying to kill him, perhaps knocking first wouldn’t have been the best course of action. Whoever got through the wards of his and Ginny’s country cottage must’ve been a person he knew well anyway. Either that — or a skilled dark wizard on the run had discovered his address, still had their wand, and made it all the way here to curse him.

      Needless to say, he wasn’t as worried as he could’ve been.

      Ginny was out — travelling with the Harpies to an international match in Denmark — so it was just Harry who stumbled to the door in his pajamas, swiping his wand across the entryway until a small peep hole appeared for him to look through. Outside stood the lanky figure of his best friend. Ron’s hair was nearly as messy as Harry’s and his eyes were slightly bloodshot. Harry sighed and put his hand on the doorknob, waiting. He spoke through the frame. ❛ Where did I take the egg during our fourth year to hear the merpeople’s song? ❜

      Some habits died hard. It was something he’d learned during the war — anyone could be polyjuiced. And, if this were some rouge Death Eater that had escaped from the battle and not yet been caught ( Harry could name all six still left on his list, tacked up in his cubicle at the office ) then using Ron Weasley against him would’ve been the smart tactic.

[blvnk-art]

Although the glasses were only around a foot away, there was something immensely satisfying about seeing them zoom towards him, at least until they poked him in the eye.

HP 7, ch: The Will of Albus Dumbledore

Happy Birthday, m’boy!

[asteriawritesarchive-deactivate]

THE GREATEST SHOWMAN SOUNDTRACK SENTENCE STARTERS 

( feel free to adjust sentences and pronouns to suit your roleplaying needs! )

THE GREATEST SHOW

❝ this is the moment you’ve waited for. ❞ ❝ buried in your bones, there’s an ache that you can’t ignore. ❞ ❝ all that was real is left behind. ❞ ❝ don’t fight it, it’s coming for you. ❞ ❝ so tell me do you wanna go? ❞ ❝ the sun can’t stop us now. ❞ ❝ this is the greatest show. ❞ ❝ it’s only this moment, don’t care what comes after. ❞ ❝ it’s blinding outside. ❞

A MILLION DREAMS

❝ i close my eyes and i can see the world that’s waiting up for me. ❞ ❝ they can say it all sounds crazy. ❞ ❝ they can say I’ve lost my mind. ❞ ❝ i don’t care, so call me crazy. ❞ ❝ every night i lie in bed the brightest colors fill my head. ❞ ❝ a million dreams are keeping me awake. ❞ ❝ a million dreams is all it’s gonna take. ❞ ❝ a million dreams for the world we’re gonna make. ❞ ❝ however big, however small, let me be part of it all. ❞ ❝ share your dreams with me. ❞ ❝ i close my eyes to see. ❞

COME ALIVE

❝ you’re just a dead man walking. ❞ ❝ you can flip the switch and brighten up your darkest day. ❞ ❝ sun is up and the color’s blinding. ❞ ❝ take the world and redefine it. ❞ ❝ leave behind your narrow mind. ❞ ❝ you’ll never be the same. ❞ ❝ you’re dreaming with your eyes wide open. ❞ ❝ so, come alive! ❞ ❝ i see it in your eyes. ❞ ❝ no more living in those shadows. ❞ ❝ you can prove there’s more to you. ❞

THE OTHER SIDE

❝ i don’t want to chase you down. ❞ ❝ i know you see it. ❞ ❝ you run with me. ❞ ❝ i can cut you free. ❞ ❝ so trade that typical for something colorful. ❞ ❝ if it’s crazy, live a little crazy. ❞ ❝ don’t you wanna get away from the same old part you gotta play. ❞ ❝ cause I got what you need. ❞ ❝ stay in the cage, or you’ll finally take the key. ❞ ❝ suddenly you’re free to fly. ❞ ❝ well i hate to tell you, but it just won’t happen. ❞ ❝ cause i quite enjoy the life you say i’m trapped in. ❞ ❝ now I admire you. ❞ ❝ you’re onto something, really it’s something. ❞ ❝ i’ll have to leave that up to you. ❞ ❝ don’t you know that i’m okay with this uptown part i get to play. ❞ ❝ i don’t need to see the other side. ❞ ❝ ain’t in a cage, so i don’t need to take the key. ❞ ❝ can’t you see I’m doing fine. ❞ ❝ now is this really how you like to spend your days?. ❞ ❝ if I were mixed up with you, I’d be the talk of the town. ❞ ❝ you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little. ❞ ❝ just let me give you the freedom to dream. ❞ ❝ it’ll wake you up and cure your aching. ❞ ❝ it’ll take your walls and start ‘em breaking. ❞ ❝ now that’s a deal that seems worth taking. ❞ ❝ i guess i’ll leave that up to you. ❞ ❝ you’d want a piece of all the action. ❞ ❝ we could shake and make it happen. ❞ ❝ i wasn’t born this morning. ❞ ❝ we’re going to the other side. ❞

NEVER ENOUGH

❝ i’m trying to hold my breath. ❞ ❝ let it stay this way. ❞ ❝ can’t let this moment end. ❞ ❝ can you hear it echoing? ❞ ❝ take my hand. ❞ ❝ will you share this with me? ❞ ❝ cause darling without you, all the shine of a thousand spotlights will never be enough. ❞ ❝ cause darling without you, all the stars we steal from the nightsky will never be enough. ❞ ❝ towers of gold are still too little. ❞ ❝ these hands could hold the world but it’ll never be enough. ❞

THIS IS ME

❝ i’m not a stranger to the dark. ❞ ❝ we don’t want your broken parts. ❞ ❝ i’ve learned to be ashamed of all my scars. ❞ ❝ “run away,” they say. ❞ ❝ i won’t let them break me down to dust. ❞ ❝ i know there’s a place for us. ❞ ❝ we are glorious. ❞ ❝ i’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out. ❞ ❝ i am brave. ❞ ❝ i am bruised. ❞ ❝ i am who i’m meant to be. ❞ ❝ look out 'cause here i come. ❞ ❝ i’m marching on to the beat i drum. ❞ ❝ i’m not scared to be seen. ❞ ❝ i make no apologies. ❞ ❝ i won’t let the shame sink in. ❞ ❝ we are bursting through the barricades and reaching for the sun. ❞ ❝ we are warriors. ❞

REWRITE THE STARS

❝ you know i want you. ❞ ❝ it’s not a secret i try to hide. ❞ ❝ i know you want me. ❞ ❝ don’t keep saying our hands are tied. ❞ ❝ you claim its not in the cards. ❞ ❝ fate is pulling you miles away and out of reach from me. ❞ ❝ you’re here in my heart. ❞ ❝ who can stop me if i decide that you’re my destiny? ❞ ❝ what if we rewrite the stars? ❞ ❝ say you were made to be mine. ❞ ❝ nothing could keep us apart. ❞ ❝ you’d be the one i was meant to find. ❞ ❝ it’s up to you. ❞ ❝ it’s up to me. ❞ ❝ no one can say what we get to be. ❞ ❝ maybe the world could be ours tonight. ❞ ❝ you think it’s easy. ❞ ❝ you think i don’t want to run to you. ❞ ❝ there are doors that we can’t walk through. ❞ ❝ i know you’re wondering why. ❞ ❝ we’re able to be just you and me within these walls. ❞ ❝ you’re gonna wake up and see that it was hopeless after all. ❞ ❝ no one can rewrite the stars. ❞ ❝ how can you say you’ll be mine? ❞ ❝ everything keeps us apart. ❞ ❝ i’m not the one you were meant to find. ❞ ❝ it’s not up to you. ❞ ❝ it’s not up to me. ❞ ❝ how can we rewrite the stars? ❞ ❝ all i want is to fly with you. ❞ ❝ all i want is to fall with you. ❞ ❝ so just give me all of you. ❞ ❝ it feels impossible. ❞ ❝ it’s not impossible. ❞ ❝ is it impossible? ❞ ❝ say that it’s possible. ❞ ❝ changing the world to be ours. ❞ ❝ i can’t have you. ❞ ❝ we’re bound to break. ❞ ❝ my hands are tied. ❞

TIGHTROPE

❝ some people long for a life that is simple and planned. ❞ ❝ some people won’t sail the sea 'cause they’re safer on land. ❞ ❝ i’d follow you the great unknown. ❞ ❝ we promised to never let go. ❞ ❝ we can see the whole world down below. ❞ ❝ we’re walking a tightrope. ❞ ❝ but it’s all an adventure. ❞ ❝ you pulled me in and together we’re lost in a dream. ❞ ❝ i risk it all just to be with you. ❞ ❝ i risk it all for this life we choose. ❞

FROM NOW ON

❝ i saw the sun begin to dim. ❞ ❝ a man learns who is there for him when the glitter fades and the walls won’t hold. ❞ ❝ if all was lost there’s more i gained. ❞ ❝ it led me back to you. ❞ ❝ from now on these eyes will not be blinded the lights. ❞ ❝ what’s waited till tomorrow starts tonight. ❞ ❝ let this promise in me start like an anthem in my heart. ❞ ❝ i drank champagne with kings and queens. ❞ ❝ the politicians praised my name. ❞ ❝ those are someone else’s dreams. ❞ ❝ but when i stop and see you here, i remember who all this was for. ❞ ❝ we will come back home. ❞

[survivalworn-blog]

apcgee // PETUNIA.

            Petunia had arrived well ahead of time, planning to have a cup of tea by herself first. To steal her nerves—and to make it seem less like she had been stood up if Harry didn’t come. A  possibility, even a likelihood she would not have blamed him for and she was aware she likely deserved, yet she wasn’t so changed as to be able to bear the pitying looks and sympathy for the woman obviously waiting for someone not coming. Thus she’d settled in at the corner table, ordered her first cup of tea, and pulled out her iPod, a Christmas gift from Dudley. 

No one was going to look strange at a woman who left after spending a half hour and a cup of tea in quiet, seemingly peaceful, escape. 

That didn’t mean Petunia wasn’t watching the time, picking up the iPod every so often to light up the screen and show the time, or that her head didn’t jerk every time the door gave its opening jingle. The time Harry had set came and went, with Petunia contemplating a second cup and one of those pastries on display at the counter to keep her company, when the door opened with the bell and her head, almost habitually now, jerked up. 

He was taller now, and had grown some scruffy approximation of a beard, but he still had that wary expression on his face, mixed with uncertainty, as their eyes met. And those eyes—those would never change, would they? Her own gaze dropped for a moment as he sat down, fingers tightening on the teacup, before she looked up once more. “Hello Harry.” And with that, she stalled out for a long moment, not knowing what to say, floundering for the right words that wouldn’t come. In the end, she went with the thought that had plagued her so much over the years, that had always gone unsaid. 

“ … your eyes are just like your mother’s.” 

       The first thing after hello out of his aunt’s mouth was about his mother. Harry instantly stiffened. The only mentioned of either Lily or James growing up had been when Aunt Marge came to visit and they were insulted — or just a simple mention of how reckless they were to have gotten into a car crash. That was it. As a child, Harry had been starved for information. And, even after Hogwarts and he got to learn more about them, it never seemed like enough. He didn’t have a lot of time with Sirius to hear his stories — and Remus was always more distant with his information. But Petunia, well, she could’ve filled Harry’s head with the words he needed, but she’d decided not to.

      And now — it did mean something that she was finally saying anything. But this wasn’t news to Harry and he wondered if she even knew that. They grew so far apart the moment he got that letter that she had no clue who he met in the Wizarding World. She had no idea that it was others who told him that first. ❛ So I’ve heard. ❜ His tone was flat, apathetic. And he had a sick sort of rush that he could shut her down in that moment as she had to him for years.

      But he could hear Hermione’s voice, telling him to give his aunt a chance. Not even Ron and Hermione knew the full extent of the Dursley’s. Harry tried to keep that in the past. ❛ I liked the pictures. ❜ There — it was something. The waitress came by and he ordered a coffee for himself. He enjoyed tea as well, but he felt like he might need a kick for this conversation.

[survivalworn-blog]

apcgee // PETUNIA. 

Harry, 

   This is a short letter, because if there are the right words, I don’t know what they are. The best I can do is I am sorry, and the confession that I know that isn’t enough. You deserved a better childhood than what I gave you. I have no pretensions to an ability to make up for that. But I can offer you something I think you’d like. Something I should have done a long time ago. 

I would like to talk to you about your mother. Tell you things about her. What she was like as a little girl. I’ve enclosed some photos for you of her. I don’t have many, but these are all of them. You should have them. 

Also enclosed is an address. There is a small cafe there, quiet, out of the way. I would be happy to meet you there and tell you all about Lily. Your mother was an amazing woman. 

Sincerely Petunia Evans

        Harry was nervous and hated that fact. He’d spent years trying to move on from everything from his past — the cupboard, the Dursleys, the war — and, upon receiving his aunt’s letter, it had all rushed back. He could tell Ginny knew he was struggling with this, but she’d been supportive with whatever he’d decided to do. For a few days, he’d decided that no, he wasn’t going. He didn’t own Petunia Dursley anything. But it wouldn’t leave his mind. The idea of hearing about his mother was too tantalizing and, if he were being honest, he wanted to sit in front of his aunt and show her the kind of man he became without her help.

        So he’d sent a simple letter back through the muggle mail — just a few sentences with a date and time he would meet her at the café. But now, standing outside the doors, he felt both like bailing and striding in there with his head held high. He was a Gryffindor, for Merlin’s sake — he could do this. Part of him couldn’t let go of the thought that she wouldn’t be here. That she’d do the Dursley thing and say that Harry’s suggested time wouldn’t work for her. Their time had always been more valuable than his.

        But the bell chimed as he pushed through the door and Harry’s eyes caught his aunt, sitting straight-backed at one of the small tables in the corner. He wondered how long she’d been waiting for him. He wasn’t too late — but he wasn’t really on time either. He’d had to change from his auror robes into something more muggle for the trip and, sure, maybe he’d liked the idea of making her sit in her own thoughts for a while. He bucked up the courage and slid into the chair across from her. ❛ Hi, Aunt Petunia, ❜ he said awkwardly, the name falling from his lips in a familiar way that made him feel seven years old again.

[survivalworn-blog]

apcgee // PETUNIA.

The throbbing behind her eye sharpened into something more urgent even as she started to say, “I don’t have a lot of time right now James.” But only half of the sentence got out before that urgency burst over her, releasing that worry she’d pushed aside the moment before. Lily wasn’t with him, and he needed to talk to her. Lily wasn’t with him, and Harry was, and he needed to talk to her. 

That was enough to tell her something terrible had happened, and she was astute enough to be able to divine what that terrible thing was. Fingers gripping the doorframe tight, all the blood drained from her face, leaving her a fragile white colour. For once, she wasn’t thinking about the neighbors, about Vernon, what they would think to see this scruffy man on her doorstep. Instead, she took a deep breath and stepped back, letting James in. 

“Dudley.” Her throat hurt even to say that, it felt so constricted with holding something back. “Why don’t you take your cousin Harry and show him your room, and your new car toy?” She felt her son start to mount a sullen protest, and she stiffened, mind jumping to the tantrum that was surely coming. But then something turned, and she felt Dudley press against her leg in a brief hug before he turned to start of the stairs. “Go on Harry. Your Da and I will be right down stairs.” And as the other toddler wiggled down, her eyes didn’t leave James’s. Petunia waited until two pairs of footsteps had clambered up the stairs before she turned into the sitting room. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to sit down. “Would you like some tea?” 

       They were invited in and James watched as his son was instructed to leave with his cousin. His heart raced irrationally the moment Harry began to toddle to Dudley’s room to look at… a toy car? While James had no idea what one of those toys would do, that wasn’t the reason for the panic. It was about not being in the same room as Harry. Only a few months ago, his son was targeted by the darkest wizard of all time. Harry had nearly died. The scar on his forehead to prove it.

      But James also knew that he didn’t need to have this conversation with the kids in the room. It would be hard enough to tell Petunia what happened to her sister — hard enough to tell her it happened two months ago — hard enough to tell her that she’d missed the funeral. So he let Harry go and sat himself on the paisley couch ( Lily would’ve hated this thing ) to wait for his sister-in-law to join him.

      Petunia didn’t sit, though, causing James to have to look up at her with his hands crossed in front of him. He shook his head at her mention of tea. If he didn’t do this now, he’d lose his nerve. The last several months had definitely been a test to his Gryffindor traits. He didn’t feel brave in this moment — just weary, tired, sad. ❛ Listen, Petunia — Lily’s dead. ❜ He winced at his own words, could feel a familiar burning behind his eyes. He’d said it so bluntly, but he also didn’t know how else to say it. James hadn’t really needed to tell anyone else about this. They just knew. Everyone in their world knew.

      ❛ I’m sorry. She — she was killed during our war. But it’s over now. It’s… I’m sorry. ❜

[survivalworn-blog]

quaintquandary // KATNISS.

Twelve had felt lonely without him, his ghost hanging behind her everywhere she went. She always had a sense that it was one of the reasons Haymitch hovered at times, knowing the sense of loss she felt at every turn. 

Peeta, unlike many of her ghosts, wasn’t actually a departed soul. But before his travel back to the district, it felt as though he had become one. And each night when she slept, the nightmares followed a specific pattern to the people she had lost, graphically watching them disappear before her eyes. They had all given so much and for what? It seemed at times that Katniss so easily forgot that the war had happened and that she hadn’t just caused a genocide by existing in a rebellious way. The mind played odd tricks it seemed, ones that took Katniss a moment to focus into to. 

“Out of the three of us, you’re the one who needs the least amount of eyes watching,” she let out a short laugh to the thought, her tongue running on her bottom teeth. Even now, after everything he had been through, a part of her still saw him as the most put together, the survivor of them all. “Lord knows he needs it,” she replied simply, unaware of his visits to Haymitch’s either. 

“Panem is the wild now,” she answered honestly, the thoughts of the wild always competing for the nostalgia she had for the home she lived now. “But… I like this house too much. It’s quiet and I don’t think that sort of peace can be found anywhere else,” her words were honest, fingers running against his shirt in the subconscious comfort she found. The Katniss she used to know would give anything for a life in the wild, disconnection to everything she had been so entwined in. But now, she wanted something different, something more. She wanted peace, quiet in a house she admired, and through it all, where they were now was just that. The house, like her, had seen war and still managed to exist a bit through. It had scares and it was worn, but it was nice nonetheless. It’s creeks and noises of the night made a simplistic mirror to that of Katniss when the moon shown. This house was her life now in a sense, something of which she didn’t want to let go of.

Her train of thought to the nostalgia of the girl she used to be and the one in the bed now quickly faltered to his words, eyes looking quietly into his. The fierceness that resided in his words at her own subconscious toil towards herself reminded her once again that in the world, he saw more good than she could ever see. And as she listened, she nodded quietly, words not finding themselves in the combination of loathing and understanding she felt towards it all. Instead, she pressed a simple, short kiss to his jaw before placing her head back on his chest. 

“Together then,” she replied simply, the only words she could muster in agreement. “We’ve always done better that way.”

       It’s ironic to hear that she thinks he needs the least amount of watching when it is him that turns into a homicidal maniac from time to time. But he decides not to say anything. He wants to her trust him. To view him as put together. To let him take care of her — even when he doesn’t always get the full chance to take care of himself. But Peeta is working on it and he doesn’t believe it’s one or the other. He can help himself and her and Haymitch. They’re a family.

      His lips quirk softly at her confession to feeling as though Panem is wild now. ❛ It’ll get better. ❜ It’s optimistic, but it’s also the truth. He saw the various cities as he rode the trains back home. He sees the progress that District Twelve has already made in his few weeks here. They’re all working on making this place not reminiscent of the war that destroyed everything. His parents and brothers are buried in that land and grass is slowly replacing the memory of bones. It’s beautiful, in a way, at the promise of a resilient world. ❛ Don’t go anywhere and you’ll see. ❜

      ❛ But, if you do, I’ll be right there with you. ❜ And then she says it and he feels his heart flutter, goosebumps raise onto his arms. Together.

      His agreement is a whisper. ❛ Always.❜ Real.

      He’s still there in the morning and is proud to see that the nightmares hadn’t turned him into something he’s not. Slowly, he makes his way from the bed, leg aching at where he hadn’t taken off the artificial part. It causes him to limp slightly, but he makes his way downstairs to start the bread. There’s no bakery anymore, but Peeta has still taken it upon himself to bake for the citizens of Twelve from his home. But Katniss has practically nothing in her cupboards and he sighs warily before finding something to write a note to tell her where he’s gone.

      Slowly, he makes his way a few houses down and bake into his own place. Still wearing only the bare minimum from the night before, he begins the baking process for the morning. It’s soothing — something Dr. Aurelius calls a coping mechanism — and it comes so second-nature to him that he lets his mind wander back to falling asleep with Katniss.

      Her bare legs brushed against his. Her head on his chest. His arm falling asleep around her, but not willing to move it. It all gives him hope.

@icarusinvited​

[bucktoothedbushyhaired]

Seeking Resentment

[survivalworn-blog]

bucktoothedbushyhaired // HERMIONE.

@survivalworn

Back in September, it had seemed like winter would never come. The days hadn’t gone as slowly as they had during Harry’s first year of school, when Hermione had poured over every letter with eager delight and sent back a thousand question about the moving staircases and underwater dormitories and floating candles (where did the wax go?) but they had still dragged. When Harry had finally stepped off the train Hermione hadn’t been there to greet him; she wasn’t permitted to go to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, had to wait at home where it was safe – but she had still met him with a great big hug, arms flying around his neck and voice raising in a gleeful squeal, despite the delay.

Dinner had begun with just as much excitement all around, Harry dominating the conversation of course – he had the most to tell; Hermione understood that, especially after mum had explained it thrice over the preceding days – and Hermione listening eagerly as he went on and on and on about his new Quidditch team, his first match as Slytherin’s Seeker. At first that had been exciting too; Hermione had never seen a Quidditch match and she had a hard time picturing what was going on when the family listened to them on the wireless, and Harry’s letters home hadn’t elucidated much, but she had been excited because he had been excited, and certainly flying sounded exciting, but…but.

But it was one more thing that she would never do, wasn’t it? Going to Hogwarts, getting a wand of her own, riding a broomstick…all things she would never see, never experience for herself. Not because she wasn’t smart, not because she wasn’t talented, but because of what she had been born. It wasn’t fair, and suddenly Hermione couldn’t bear to hear another word of Harry’s wonderful, exciting, marvelous, magically perfect life.

“Excuse me,” she whispered. “I’m feeling a little queasy. I think I’ll go lie down.” Not waiting for anyone to speak, to excuse her or stop her or question her, Hermione shoved her chair back from the table. She practically ran as she carried her half-full plate into the kitchen; she did run as she fled upstairs to her bedroom. She made it through the door before the tears started and she threw herself down on the bed, muffling her sniffles into her pillow. She took a sort of self-righteous pleasure in the fact that she wasn’t going to ruin Harry’s homecoming by letting anyone know she was upset – but the knock on her door a few minutes later burst that pretty delusion, too.

Hermione rolled over and saw her brother standing in the doorway. She scowled at him. “What do you want?” she said, voice raspy both from crying and from annoyance. “Weren’t mum and dad fawning over you enough? Don’t tell me the great Seeker star needs a bigger audience?” She sat up and folded her arms over her chest. “Sorry, I’m too busy right now.” The lingering sniffle that followed her words might have undercut them somewhat, but it did nothing to lighten the glare on Hermione’s tear-blotched face.

       It wasn’t as though Harry hadn’t ever really been a talker, but he always felt as though he had a lot of say upon coming home for breaks from Hogwarts. He knew he’d be too embarrassed to admit it in front of his friends, but he missed his family while he was gone. His mum — a muggleborns, already something that made his neck turn red whenever someone caught onto the fact that, yes, he was that Evans boy — and his sister — even worse, really, because everyone thought she was a muggle and the truth would likely have gotten her killed — and his dad. Harry actually liked being around them and, while he liked school too, he also was eager for each summer break.

      At the dinner table the first night back, he always felt as though he had a lot to say. His mum wasn’t permitted to attend any of his Quidditch matches and, while his father probably could, he was often too busy to even consider the idea of watching his son from the stands. Harry hadn’t ever had someone come to congratulate him at the end of the match like Lucius Malfoy would’ve been able to do had Draco actually gotten the spot as seeker. So Harry knew that the only way anyone would be able to experience it as though they were there would be for him to tell the details. And it was exciting — thinking back at how he’d caught the snitch that very first match against Gryffindor. How he’d won the match for his team.

      But then Hermione had to ruin it — as she so often did. This wasn’t the first time she’d left the table the moment Harry got a few moments to share a story. Hermione had always talked more than him, even in the beginning when they’d first gotten her. Harry had mostly let her, happy enough to sit back and listen rather than be the center of attention. But, sometimes, that attention was nice. The moment she stood from the table with a nearly-full plate of food, Harry’s heart dropped into his stomach, his eyes narrowing behind the wire-frames. Could she really not handle just one minute where it wasn’t about her? Pathetic!

      He fell silent as she stormed away, eating his dinner in near silence, brushing off most of his mother’s questions about school with simple answers. And when Lily suggested softly that maybe he would be the one that needed to check on Hermione, he gave her an incredulous look before taking the Hermione route and pushing back from the table to dramatically head upstairs. He knocked on her door with the other fist clenched and glared the moment she snapped at him. ❛ Yeah, you look really busy, ❜ he said sarcastically. ❛ Crying takes up a lot of energy. Maybe there’s a cup for that. I’m sure you’d win. ❜

                                                      ❛ Mum told me I had to check on you. ❜

[survivalworn-blog]

tag drop .003

[survivalworn-blog]

apcgee // LILY.

He was talking and she didn’t know what he was saying, but that didn’t matter because he was talking and that meant he was breathing, which was as good a sign of life as any she could hope for—that or bleeding (bleeding was good, bleeding meant they were alive, bleeding meant there was something she could treat.) 

There was certainly plenty of blood on him, but the brown flaky dry stuff that mixed with dirt and grime and told her it wasn’t his blood. Some part of her noted ‘Benjy,’ and thought it must be Benjy’s. Or all that was left of Benjy. But that was a distant part, a part tucked away in favour of closing the door and gathering James close to her, holding tight as she took a few deep breaths, basking in the relief. 

               These were the moment you had to live for. The moments of life. Losing them meant losing everything. 

It wasn’t as difficult as one might have thought, manuvering their tangle of arms and legs down the hall into the bathroom. Harder was getting him to let go of her long enough to strip him out of the dirty clothes; she had to turn on the water with one hand, the other curled in his hair (she’d have to cut some of the knots out, she could already tell). Finally they were in a new calm, sitting in the tub as the water poured down, washing everything else away. She held his hands, kept him grounded, breathed with him through it, her forehead pressed to him, until he’d come down enough to at least be somewhat coherent. 

“You’re alive. That’s what matters.” 

       He moved between an abnormal sort of silence and sharing pieces of information that didn’t quite make sense without the whole story as she helped him out of his robes and into the bathtub, the water from the shower falling onto them both. James gasped his breaths, let the water spray into his mouth, and watched as Benjy swirled down the drain. These were the kind of days that made the war seem impossible — seem as though nothing they did helped at all.

      Tomorrow, he would be called to Dumbledore to debrief the failed mission. They would meet with the Order and he’d have to break the news about their fallen comrade. He’d have to go back to being a father and putting on a smile because he didn’t want his children thinking they couldn’t live in this world. But, tonight, it felt hopeless. Voldemort was gaining more followers every day, while the Order watched people die in battle for the greater good.

      He thought about the newest recruits. Fresh out of Hogwarts, a fire in their eyes that James himself remembered clearly. Back then, he thought that he and his friends could conquer everything. He was only twenty-five, but he felt so old. Soon, one of those newcomers would die too and he’d see the same pattern as all the years before them. A deepened passion for a while before it turns to a weary sort of commitment. James would never stop fighting, but that didn’t mean he felt the same sort of optimism as he once had.

      His breathing steadied with Lily’s hands around him, their foreheads pressed against one another. His shoulder had begun to ache the calmer he felt and he thought he might have sprained something, but a simple spell could fix most of his injuries, while no amount of magic would have been able to bring back Benjy.

                                                He considered himself lucky.

      Lily’s words rang true and he nodded against her before pulling back and pulling himself together. ❛ I’m going to need a new wand. ❜ He tightened his grip on her hands. ❛ I want to see the kids. ❜

[survivalworn-blog]

madmused:

closed starter for @survivalworn​

returning to school, well, to her, had been one giant mistake. in fact, the only reason ginny had gone to complete her final year, was due to her mother insisting that she complete her newts, despite already securing a position on the holy head harpies. much to her annoyance, && her mother’s satisfaction, she reenrolled, doing her best to achieve decent marks. this, however, proved tough when every corner of the school reminded her of the year the carrows ran amuck, && each && every time she sat in the great hall, she remembered finding her brother in their – lifeless. life without fred was still empty && pointless, but she was slowly pulling herself out of the hole she was in earlier this year, which in part could be thanks to being quidditch captain && getting to fly a broom whenever she wanted (( the one thing that made her feel somewhat like herself again. ))

the burrow was decorated to the nines this year, she noted, entering the living room with her travel bag over her shoulder. this was of course due to her mother throwing herself into the holiday to avoid missing fred. her family as a whole each had a different coping mechanism, though none were exactly the healthiest. her eyes wandered around the room, counting the number of stockings – her heart fell, noticing that there was one missing, the giant stocking embroidered with the letter ‘ f ’ was gone. dropping her bag to the floor, a heavy sigh could be heard escaping her mouth, head shaking slightly in disbelief. it had already been six months without fred, yet it felt like worlds longer.  trying to forget about her departed brother, she walked into the kitchen, knowing there had to be something to eat. her mother warned her not to fill up on sweets since she was hosting a rather large dinner tonight to celebrate her coming home, which in a way, gave her something to be excited about. she hadn’t seen her brothers in months, so this family dinner could be good. what took her off guard though, was seeing harry potter standing in her kitchen. of course, she wasn’t completely surprised – her mother viewed harry as one of her own, so naturally he && hermione would be invited to a family dinner, but ginny hadn’t spoken to harry in months, so seeing him so soon && without warning caused her heart to stop momentarily, her mouth widened slightly in shock.  “   harry !   ”   she exclaimed, though her tone wasn’t all that telling. it wasn’t displaying any type of emotion other than shock.   “   i wasn’t expecting to see you here.    ”   she simply stated the obvious, not daring to get all that close to him. while they weren’t on bad terms, they were no longer dating, so ginny wasn’t entirely sure of what was normal && what was overstepping boundaries. she tried to be mindful of that.    “   uh, how’ve you, er been?   ”   not one to usually be at a loss of words, she was trying her hardest to fill up the uncomfortable silence.  

       The Burrow felt both as though he were stepping foot into a stranger’s place and his own home. It had been a few months since he’d come around last — since Ron could drag him from Grimmauld Place and to one of the dinners with the Weasleys — and Harry’s heart raced the moment he stepped through the threshold. With all the decorations for the Christmas holidays, the place reminds him a bit of Hogwarts, too. But both places held memories of death, which clouded the rest of the good ones. That sense of belonging.

      But mostly, with the Burrow, came guilt. He was guilty for not stopping by more often. For making excuses whenever Ron tried to get him to come after training. For never apologizing for all the horrific things he’d brought into their lives. Most of all, though, he was guilt for Fred. The presence of the dead twin was everywhere. On the staircase, in the kitchen, at the table. In George.

      It was because of Harry that the war fell so fully into his household. And he could still remember Mrs. Weasley’s wails as they’d buried her son. Standing stoically next to the grave himself. Then the paparazzi trying to hunt them down after. It had been because of him. Harry had watched Fred take that last breath and had left his body in the corridor, moving to the next Horcrux, the next mission, with Ron’s tears streaming down his cheeks. Harry could barely step foot in this house — once so loved — without that guilt trying to claw its way into his chest, suffocating his heart. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Hedwig, Colin… the list could go on. Harry could picture hundreds of fireplaces with hundreds of missing stockings because of the war he’d allowed.

      If only he’d found the Hocruxes sooner. If only he’d gone off to die earlier in the night…

      The thoughts raced through his head, even with Mrs. Weasley’s gracious hug, tears in her eyes, hands on his hair, trying to flatten it. The closest thing to mother he would likely ever get and he could barely look her in the eyes. Ron grasped at his shoulder before he and his mother made their way out of the kitchen, leaving Harry alone. He looked up at the mistletoe hanging above the sink and let an ironic smile fall onto his lips. Even with his feet half ready to run, this place was better than the Dursleys.

      But then a voice startled him from behind, causing him to jump and turn, his wand ( ever-present in his reach ) lifted for battle. It took a beat before he realized who he was staring at and his lungs began to work properly. He lowered the wand, but kept it in his grasp. ❛ Ginny! ❜ Merlin, she looked beautiful. ❛ Well I, uh, figured I’d see you here. ❜

      Her question was simple and it was almost as though they hadn’t shared his happiest months together at all. ❛ I’m fine. ❜ The answer always on the tip of his tongue. ❛ I hear Gryffindor’s in the lead to win the Cup this year. Well done. ❜ Quidditch was one thing they could always agree on.

@ignecomas​

[survivalworn-blog]

I AM BACK. now that all my wedding stuff is done and i’m home from the honeymoon, i’m going to be working on getting this blog up and running again. i’m keeping everything i have and will do replies when i can! i apologize for the giant delay! 

[soldiiermade-archive]

so as most of you know, i’m getting married at the end of the month! i’ll be taking a hiatus for three weeks for my bachelorette party, last minute planning, the wedding, and then the honeymoon! i will be on sometimes through mobile (like in the downtime during the week before the wedding and then in the airport), but mostly i won’t be around because experiencing this fully will be my main focus.

i’ll be on hiatus from june 22 - july 11. 

i’m also trying not to spoil myself for the episodes i’ll miss the best i can, but i’ll be totally happy to talk about everything as soon as i’m caught up! love y’all!

[soldiiermade-archive]

i apologize for being so slow these past few weeks! at the end of this month, i’m getting married and i’m really focusing on getting everything done for the wedding! i’ll be taking a few week hiatus during that time as well, but i’m hopefully going to be filling my queue up (we’ll see if it works!) thanks for all your patience! i’m always on discord or IM to chat, even when i don’t have the time to post much!

[uptownhags]

Dev Patel poses for portraits to promote his film Lion in New York. Photos by Victoria Will/Invision/AP.