i am so incredibly sorry that this has taken a month?? life has literally gotten away from me this past couple weeks and i apologise for my absences and distance from tumblr. i really do love and appreciate you all so much and please do expect some more things in the near future..
now without further ado..
WINNERS
minerva mcgonagall - best url
@jilys @ginys @knockturnalleys
hermione granger - best mobile theme
@fleurrdelacour @maruarders
cedric diggory - best desktop theme
@ginnyeweasley
draco malfoy - best harry potter
@owvlery @nargles @dailyprophet
lee jordan - best multifandom
@chovchang @stormybisexual @barryallhan @prcy
luna lovegood - best new find
@regulusblacj @remvsjohn @cruciotus @benbornes
oliver wood - best upcoming blog
@findfyre @czeornys
ron weasley - nicest blogger
@owvlery @ameljiabones @jilys
seamus finnigan - personal favourites
@cho-chang @czeornys @scorpusmalfoy
harry potter - best original text posts/headcanons
follow from me – if i’m not following you already
eternal love + friendship (you’re stuck with me forever sorry)
unlimited promos for the month of march
an ‘make me choose’ edit
an ‘moodboard’ edit (based on your choice)
I feel weird to be asking this for a sleepover (cuz i feel like you'd rather have entertainment), but I was wondering if you had any advice on like tags and a tagging system for blogs? I've finally felt like I've got my blog in order and I love to get blogrates and compliments/advice and someone suggested I work on that to improve my blog. I'm always into improving to increasing my follower count and allow my page to be navigated more easily. Thanks 💕
THIS IS GREAT FOR A SLEEPOVER!!
so the first thing you need to do is start tagging every post related to the same topic/character/fandom the same way, for example if you’re reflagging stuff about Ron Weasley, tag every post with “ron”, or every harry potter related post “hp” or smth; what I do is since my blog is mostly hp, I tag my non hp posts “not hp”, but I also tag them with what they are related to, for example I’ll tag a sherlock post ‘#sherlock #not hp’ then the hp posts I do tag them by character, book/movie, group of people (golden trio, da, de, etc) most of the time I only tag the name of the character and ‘q’ (bc I’m lazy and my queue tag is q) for example #remus lupin #q, that is what most of my posts look like. I also try to always tag each post by what it is (except pics bc most of them are pics) so I do #text or #gif or #answered I also tag my personal posts #personal (that way people can blacklist stuff they don’t wanna see too) create a tag for when it’s something you made or you posted, most people use ‘mine’ but what I do is tag it ‘creations’ if it’s something I made and ‘my post’ (idk why it’s not mine tbh if it’s shorter but ok) for every post I post (but sometimes I forget with personal posts…
after you create a tagging system pick a theme for a navi and/or tags page, some people use their navi as their tag page and some have it separate, I have it separate atm (but I might change it, idk) there you can organise your posts by tag and that’s pretty much it!!
if you didn’t understand smth bc I rambled a lot please tell me, I’ll try my best to help you out!! :)
i have no sense of self control, sorry, not sorry.
001. duelling wands
They pair off in twos for class today; no household pairings allowed. Over his head, Marlene sends mournful expression in Emmeline’s direction, makes faces, laughs - but when it’s down to him and her, Remus and Marlene, she’s got all of her attention on him. Remus, who in their years has been pleasant, kind; the sort of distant that she knows to expect from boys like him, all PROPER PUT TOGETHER, with whom her newly made image appears as a stark contrast. Smudged liner, 80s riot girl everything, she’s a far cry from the prim and proper pureblooded girl that had entered these halls years before, with all that weight, that prejudice, upon her shoulders.
Now she’s got a ready smile, bubblegum that POPS, acid pink, within her mouth. “Have you done this before?” always, she’ll look you directly in the eyes, without a hint of fear, or hesitation. “I’ve been practicing a bit of this in our study sessions with the girls, so if you need a bit of help, don’t worry too much, alright?” they stand at a respectful distance, with the blonde helping to showcase the flick of the wrist required, the necessary enunciation within the spell, it needs to all come together, she explains, to work the way they expect it to. “If you do it right, it’ll send me flying!” that bright spark of excitement within her gaze - she’s all too ready for a proper match up.
“You ready?” she asks, before counting down from 3. 2... 1... and she’s quick, isn’t she, a snap to her movements, or perhaps she’s practiced more than she really accounted for - but he’s soon left flying and knocked right back onto his arse, Marlene’s expression, focused, serious, immediately crumbling into CONCERN. “Oh shit... Remus? Remus are you okay?” others have stopped to watch, but she’s flying across the space between them, kneeling to help him up with her palm grasping firmly to his own until she can see him blinking, following along. “Oh, thank Merlin- I’m so sorry!”
002. winter wonderland
It’s gonna be fun, she tells him - because she means it at the time. Of course it’ll be fun to go to Hogwarts, to make themselves a mess of who they ought to be. Between herself and Dorcas Meadows, they’ve COOKED UP a new potion to make them seem older, wiser, the kind of glamour to fool even the most experienced of barkeeps - and won’t he come? A hand on his shoulder, which seemed to do the trick, Remus is all colours in anxiousness and nerves, but he nods all the same, eliciting a whoop of excitement from her as she tells him to find something smart to wear and to meet them out front - and be ready, she warns, to run if they must.
“Nothing wrong with a little exercise, right?”
That ends in laughter, a mess of it trailing behind her as she leaves, to outfit herself for the night - a lashing of red lipstick, a black leather jacket that smells worn out, the pocket at the front filled with a carton of the illicit things that Lily brings back from home, muggle cigarettes and the lighter that they figured out how to use together, though, that time someone lost the ends of their hair. It’s JUST ANOTHER ADVENTURE to be had, isn’t it, smoothing her fingers through dirty blonde hair as the three of them take the doses of the potion that they’re meant to, and take off for the village…
And it turns out better than they expected, ordering drinks for the first round herself, as she had the best POKER FACE amongst them all, fire whiskey a terrible mix for those unaccustomed to the taste and the effects it gave, though she laughs and hiccups both, and feels fire trace along her lips. Remus looks as gone as she feels, sweaty palms and hunching shoulders, though her arm moves about them to sway, the two of them, as Dorcas leads them off in a round of song. They only order four drinks each; it’s more than enough, and they’re stumbling on the way out as their glamour begins to fade, Dorcas walking ahead because, she announces, she needs to throw up in a bush as she holds Remus steady in the walk, though her own feet feel clumsy.
How unexpected when he looks at her, all red, her name spoken with a stutter on his lips, head turning to look at him with concern when those same lips catch at her own, tasting like cinnamon and fire and APOLOGIES, all at once, as she realizes she doesn’t know what to do with her hands, her feet, herself, as they trip and nearly crash into the cobblestones leading back to the castle, her shock written clearly across her features, whiskey-stained and with smeared makeup lining beneath her eyes.
003. do you dare?
“There’s a really beautiful poem,” she tells him once, idly, as they browse for books on some rainy afternoon. They’ve come tumbling into this shop, seeking a way out, an escape from the persistence of the torrential downpour, careful as they pad about this place that smells like HOME to not drip and drop their way over the pages that they paw through. “That I really loved that Lily showed me once. I can’t remember all the words of it,” that’s a lie. But she’ll pretend, as she waltzes about the aisles like a seasoned veteran of the place. “About being daring, and the idea of disturbing the universe, and chasing after mermaids. To dive deep, so to speak.”
She’s thoughtful, a pop of gum, a sideways glance his way - as if measuring to see if he’s really listening, or if she ought to stop. In small ways, he’ll see the cracks, the things within all that brimming confidence within her that isn’t all there, how she’s, less at ease than she ever lets on. “I always wondered if he was a wizard or not, TALKING LIKE THAT. But I really loved the sentiment of it. That to be great, you have to be willing to do strange things. And to be good, you need to be uncomfortable sometimes. I wonder if it’s foolish sometimes to chase that feeling, but it’s still there. That curiosity.”
A future someone else has planned for her, her parents making rumbling sounds for what they expect, how this phase of hers has to come to an end. The book’s lowered. Blue eyes cutting keenly into his as she reaches out to take his hand, steps closer to brush away the wet strands of his sandy hair. She won’t speak again; no. Maybe this could be greatness in her own way, a quiet rebellion, lead in the way she CLOSES THE GAP to kiss him, at first exploratory, and then again, and again. The book drops - a laugh is muted, and swallowed. And right now, she would say, she does dare.
004. summertime sadness
Inside, she’s giddy -- and selfishly it has only partially to do with him, but the other part has to do with the fact that they’ve climbed, climbed, climbed skywards. Balanced on beams on skyscrapers, with just a hint of magic to help guide their way (oh, take me somewhere grand). It had been her idea, of course, a night out on a dull evening, with a sweet boy who’s life, she’s sure, she could ruin. How GOOD he was, with floppy hair and sad boy eyes, and a wholesomeness that she’d never deserver, she holds his hand and makes him know what it’s like to find religion in her kiss, but right now she’s savouring the chill of the air of this place that they’ve found.
“I’ve seen photographs, you know.” she rambles instead, turning on sneakered shoes on the very daring edge of this, her balance, swaying, gently with the breeze. “DAREDEVILS do stunts like that, but it feels a little bit like we’re cheating, you know? We don’t have the same fear. If we fell, we’d just.. you know. Summon a broom, or something to cushion our falls. Don’t you feel that takes away from the thrill? The whole... dare, I think, is in the potential closeness of death or dying, and that’s what makes it exciting. Then I think. Why the hell are people so excited at the thought of throwing away their lives? Do they have nothing to live for?”
There’s a pause, as if she expects him to answer, but there’s none, really, to be found to the satisfaction of what she would require. Pale fingertips, run up along the length of his arm, drawing him close and feeling the warmth of him bleed through his clothes, a giggle warming up on her lips. “Where next is up to you, Mr. SHINING STAR.” he was supposed to be one of the goodest of them all, uncomplicated by the moral shades of gray the rest of them were required to wear, just to make it through this war. And now? Now he’s positively drenched in it, isn’t he? “You need to be the one to tell me. To your place, or mine?”
005. unfortunate timing
Love is all a matter of timing, isn’t it.
If there wasn’t this war, would things be different? If her assignment had had another shade, if she’d gone not undercover, but onwards, upwards, would it have made a difference? Could it be them together, instead of what’s been dealt out like this, with Marlene dressed, pinned, proper, pretty, with a ring on her finger and a betrothal announcement photo taken for the papers to announce yet another SOCIETY MARRIAGE to be had. There’s a faint smile on her face there, that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but, most people wouldn’t care for that. It’s the names, the who’s who, the planning of a wedding, the distraction.
Nobody wants to talk about the war, after all.
Marlene’s just trying to survive another day.
It doesn’t look right, they tell her. She’s come home, she’s doing everything right, so why won’t she get engaged? There’s only so many but I don’t like them, that they’ll take, until it becomes a matter of that it isn’t about love, Marlene, it’s about the union of family. The war still wages on - and she, she still needs information. So if she’s going to SELL HER SOUL, better make it worth the price of it, so here she sits, alongside Travers who is as equally unsmiling; this is business, and they both know the stakes. What doesn’t help the whole affair is afterwards, how she slips away, from work, from dinners... all to see him.
There’s no real apology that can be made for this, not really. Not with the cards that they have been dealt, and she doesn’t even want to kiss him, have him, there’s no hunger in this when she sees him tonight, how her palms frame his face, her forehead to his forehead. The silence of an APOLOGY, unspoken, that will never sound as true as she feels it, how selfish she knows she is being by coming here, despite it all. Instead she swallows; tries to find footing on uneven ground. “Have you eaten?” she whispers against his hair, into a shoulder. Please, anything but this; the intimacy of being held. “Should I make you something?”
things said meme: things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear (marlene)
things said meme ( accepting ) + @remvsjohn // remus
Late, late, late, her bones feel it, her blood feels it, the spaces between her ribs feel it, and her eyes, blood shot, definitely feel it. It’s time for studying, OWLs just about the corner, and, those that care for it are pouring themselves through books… those that don’t seemingly more content to squander their hours in degenerate means. Marlene feels safely set within the MIDDLE GROUND of it all, her regular affairs more than preparing her for what’s to come, but what’s wrong with aiming for perfection? Perhaps there’s a pressure, still, that she wouldn’t want to cop to, in that her family wants to see this turn of hers mean something; that to be considered without ambition and slyness as a Slytherin could still mean that she was clever, despite it all.
He’s here with her too - Remus. He’s the only one of that lot that has the patience to study with her into the late hours, despite the yawns, the occasional way she fishes for snacks from some unknown pocket within her robes, how he isn’t distracted when she crosses her legs and toys with the ends of her hair, he’s just always been, above all else, DECENT. It’s not as if the others aren’t kind, no, but they seem to exist in a sheen of childishness that suits them… a reminder to herself that she needn’t grow up too quickly, but every one of them has a different effect with her.
And right now, she studies him, in glances between the words that she reads, to a sleeping head, slumped over his books. Wondering what’s between the lines with him, figurative, literal… and perhaps it’s why she mutters it aloud, so seemingly OUT OF THE BLUE, fingers curled about one cheek, palm beneath her chin. “What happened to you, Remus?” he’ll never tell - neither will his friends, will they, the tight lipped lot of them, Lily having tried, but, it doesn’t matter, does it? Whatever the course, the reason, the truth, she thinks... he’s still him. He’s still Remus, after all. With or without those scars, he’s still a good man having suffered, and she’s keen not to add in to his troubles.
Or it hadn’t really been before tonight, when during the middle of their first real party where, they spend time in Lily’s room, smudging cherry bomb red lipstick on their lips, and, holding clothes up against themselves to be judged, drawn, and quartered, the rolling of worn out sneakers and the endless rolling of fishnet stockings over faded bruises on their legs from all their rather ruckuous extra curriculars, laughter dissolving fizzy on their lips, all of them a little drunk from the first few SIPS OF LIQUOR that they’d stolen thanks to Lily’s potions and Marlene’s swagger, with Dorcus and Emmeline in the wings, sweeping in for the right distraction at the right time, as they all, together, convince Lily afterwards that this is going to be fun, and just for one night, so can she let go of the Prefect business for just one night?
Of course that was the START OF THE NIGHT, when things were still easily defined by that taste of sugar used to dull the taste of fire and liquor within their stomachs, not knowing yet that that was the kind of combination that would leave them retching by the end of the night. Instead they’re holding hands and running through the dark, into the deep woods, to places unknown, unseen, Marlene laughing, the sound echoing amongst the trees, as they rise up, ghosts, as terrifying as expected, an ode to the boredom of teenaged girls, ready to face the prospect of being women, knowing nothing of its burdens.
Lily’s palm sticky within her own, as they wind about bonfires burning bright, and, everything’s fun, the smell of smoke and weed in the air, and, Marlene finding fury when she catches the Seventh year that she’s been seeing making out with some Slytherin girl at the back of some tree where they feel that they won’t be caught, and while Emmeline tries holding her back, Mars manages to POP ONE OFF. Fist connecting to his face, bruising, feeling that split against her knuckles as she spits on him for good measure before she throws off the hands that attempt to grapple her still, disgust in every footstep that she stomps into the earth in what she would call her graceful retreat.
And it’s Remus still who finds her, arms looped about her knees as she wipes at the streaky black that muddies her cheeks, a scowl as she tries to say, “Must be happy, I knew you always hated him.” but the words are stuck, and she’s ashamed of the sob that’s crackling there instead, AS ARMS ENVELOP HER WHOLE, her own winding without hesitation to grasp onto her like a woman, drowning. And part of her feels aggravation, faint, knowing she’s staining the pretty white jumper that he’s leant her, and that she’s ruining the night, isn’t she, drunk, hiccuping, the mess of tears as they cling close, nose buried against the crook of his neck as she asks, quiet, soft now, “Can you help me get back to my room?” realizing, belatedly by morning, that it’s the first favour that she’s ever asked of him directly.
you know honestly i feel this ties back to the way i originally wrote marlene like, fucking over 10 years ago, but no matter what version of her i play, i think her biggest worry is always that she’s been insecure that people will always overlook her hard work because of the life she’s been born into. it’s one of those things where i can absolutely see that being the motivation for her joining the order, like yes she wants to protect her friends and she wants to make sure the future is fairer and more equitable, but there is also definitely a deep, dark, selfish part of her that looks at it and is like, finally, a way to show i’m not just my family name or pretty looks, or whatever the fuck. i think for most characters (and people!) we see ourselves as the hero in our own stories, and it’s hard to look at the self-serving reasons that motivate us to do good things. we wanna believe it’s selfless, but it’s not always like that in reality.
i think marlene’s reality is, she’s painfully worried people can’t see past the surface of her, and has dedicated an unseemly amount of time and effort into dismantling the idealist’s version of herself. which, you know, makes sense. marlene never got the opportunity to grow up... she just died young. all too often, like the movies especially are SO BAD at making the potters seem grown up, but they all died in their early twenties! they never got to actually, and really, be adults. they just got thrust into something they were all wholly unprepared for. so while i think that might have been her starting motivation, i think the real shame is that marlene never had a chance to really see she didn’t need to be, or act, or... do things? to prove who she was. her friends already saw her, and that was enough.
