Today I Was Out In My Balcony Taking Photos Of The Sky. When I Got Back In I Wanted To Check The Photos,

It doesn't matter what book I'm reading in the moment I can't go on for too long without re-reading Crimson Rivers. I can't help it... it's an obsession.

Around this time one year and a half I entered the Marauders fandom because I had found an interesting looking audiobook in Spotify... little did I know that it was fanfiction. I'm so grateful to be in this fandom and get to know so many wonderful people with incredible minds and imagination.

I've been working on doing some of the All te Young Dudes covers and maybe one day I'll learn how to bind it all together.

I've been in the Marauders fandom for a year now and it's actually crazy to me how much it changed my life. I remember I found it because I was in the podcasts section of Spotify and suddenly the name " All the young dudes" appeared and, to this day, I do not know why I clicked on it. I didn't even read the description I just threw myself head first into it and hoped for the best. I'm so glad that I did, I'm so glad that I clicked on that audiobook without knowing anything and preventing prejudices that come with it being a fanfic. It changed my life, it changed me like a person and I no media had ever been capable of doing that. I got into a lot of old music, I started thrifting, I started writing more and I found something to relate and find comfort in.

They are my little bit of magic.

You know what's truly devastating? That people often overlook Mary's grief. She lost everything she held most dear to a war she never wanted to be part of and had been affecting her since it started, and I'm talking about the segregation and mistreatment that she had to suffer all of her teenage years. Because a war doesn't start in the field, it starts in the mind. In the minds of those who choose to hurt others for simply being different, thinking different and sometimes just for existing.

In the end she chose to wipe her memory, all of those years that brought her so much joy that now only brought her to tears. She chose to live in ignorance, but ignorance is the greatest gift and the biggest curse.

This part of " My tears ricochet " by Taylor Swift is so Shauna and Jackie.

Remus had always felt a connection to the ocean. It felt good to know he wasn't alone. That he wasn't the only one at the mercy of the changing moon.

It’s just a Monday, like any other. They’re having eggs and toast for breakfast, the tea caramel-coloured where fresh milk offsets its rich darkness. Remus breathes across the surface and watches it ripple.

“The new Priest arrives today,” Hope says. “You should go and greet him.” Like she’s telling Remus to pick up more bread or some forgotten ingredient for their supper. Inconsequential.

And it should be. Who the Priest is in their little church makes no difference to the Lupins. Their contract with the Church is for life - as long as there is a Lupin living in the caretaker's cottage, they have a place in the Church. They barely interacted with the previous Priest anyway.

“Do you know his name yet?” Remus asks around the smell of his tea, more just to answer than out of curiosity.

“Father Sirius,” Hope says.

(The first time Remus hears it is the last time the name invokes no feelings.)

“He’s about your age, I’ve heard,” Hope continues. “It’s his first time leading a Church. Let’s be gentle to him, Cariad.”

***

And Remus complies. Or - at the least - he means to.

He heads to the Church after their breakfast. Through the old little graveyard he cares for and the roses that need trimming and the grass he’s recently mowed. Comes up to the blooming rhododendron and there stands a man.

His back is turned to Remus. Tall, posture impossibly straight, broad back. His hair is swept to the side, down one shoulder and exposing the line of his neck above a clerical collar, and the delicate arch of his ear.

That’s all Remus sees of him. The sunlight hitting his hair in such a way that the black almost turns golden - a holy man chosen by the grace of the Lord. Illuminated in the mundane morning.

Remus has never felt peace in the confines of the Church. It’s a vibrating, incessant presence for him, the knowledge that in there, Remus is known inside and out, all of his sins on display, the monster that lives within him as close to the surface as it can be outside of the light of the full moon. Scratching to get out as if coaxed forward by the promise of forgiveness Remus knows he can never be given.

There’s peace in the way Father Sirius bends to take a closer look at the blue-pink petals.

There’s something else completely in the way Remus aches to go down onto his knees. It’s nothing like when he prays.

Father Sirius never even sees him standing there, watching, until Remus runs away.

(Tiny little preview of something I’ve been working on while procrastinating from *redacted fest fic*)

I've just realised something while I was scrolling through my gallery and I feel so dumb. I drew Remus for his birthday and even put it as my profile pic but never posted it. I could swear that I had posted it! Maybe I'm just descending into madness... anyways Happy late Birthday to Moony.

I've been drawing all of the yellowjackets while I re-watch to cope with the fact that we're gonna have to wait for season 4. Of course I had to draw my favorite girl Misty.

I talk to the moon every night,

In her glow, I seek your smile.

But it never feels quite right,

For she’s never warm nor wild.