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i need this au so badly

Headcanon that an outraged 6-year-old Charlie Weasley writes to an elderly Newt Scamander wanting to know why Gringotts keeps a dragon locked up underground and begging him to fix it. Newt writes back saying that sadly he’s been fighting that fight for years and no one ever wants to listen to him because the powerful families whose money is being kept safe by the dragon always shut him down, and that Charlie is the first person he’s heard of who’s as angry as he is about it. Charlie decides that day to dedicate his life to finding out everything he can about dragons so that one day he can free the poor Gringotts dragon. After the war, when they hear that Harry, Ron and Hermione freed the dragon, they celebrate and immediately begin petitioning to have it made illegal to imprison dragons so that nothing like that ever happens again. It’s only when Hermione becomes Minister that it’s finally signed into law.

#no and that moment when the weasley brothers are trying to befriend harry #and harry is just following ron around because it’s ron ? #yes but he’s talking to ron ? he’s playing chess with ron ? yeah fred super cool prank but look what ron just did #ron weasley supremacy #rons scared of losing harry because he’s famous not realising harry is enamoured by him #harry potter

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nothing hotter than sirius being a good godfather to harry

#true this was his peak era

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girl help! the popular fanon interpretation of my favorite character is stupid as fuck

#i’m sorry but regulus black what have you done to him

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i need prompts fr

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this is probably best reserved for one of your many chaos nights but i have been mulling for a while on why any broader fandom conversation about sirius characterization always brings on a brigade of temper tantrums from certain remus stans who have an overall air of "I do not feel comfortable that this conversation is not about me my boi." and i still can't entirely put my finger on why lol.

I think it's probably because Sirius isn't his own character and only exists to be a boyfriend to Remus and worship Remus. God forbid that we talk about him without Remus being brought up in the same conversation 🙄

Anyway this feels like a good time to remind everyone that Remus is short and the equivalent of damp cardboard and Sirius is tall and a tank. This isn't anything to do with Sirius's personality but it still needs to be said. Sirius is tall, thank you for your time.

#the equivalent of damp cardboard this is the best i have ever heard your honour #sirius black is tall #regulus black is tall #please stop shrinking them

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inhales . bartylus is better than rosekiller i am not sorry . exhales

#no more weedkiller for me #honestly i never jumped on that train anyway i just couldn’t get into it #regulus black #barty crouch junior #crawls back into my head

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evan buckley where have you been my entire life ? where have you been eddies entire life ?

#this is me impatiently waiting for disney plus to upload the rest of season six for the uk

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i got one foot in the golden life, one foot in the gutter 

it has been a hot minute since i’ve logged in to here so have a mini royal au, because albus potter is still my favourite fuck jkr . 

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He doesn’t mind the silk, not really, as it brushes along his forearms. It's fresh, and cooler than the cotton shirt sticking to his skin, peeling it away to plunge his hair into the depths of a basin. His hand grips the edges, that’s cold too, goosebumps caressing his chest .

The silk is the aftermath of something nice, it’s smooth, it doesn’t itch, but he’s never felt — good. It doesn’t hang right, fiddling with the cuffs until a heavy exhale pushes past his lips and he gives up, scrunching the sleeves up to his elbows instead .

A soft glow slips between the lines on the window, leaning against the edge of the stone, the curtains pool around his feet and for a moment - or ten - his shoulders relax, swallowed up by the peach and the gold, the watercolour flush seeping warmth in the glisten against the glass .

He wants nothing more than to stay there, wrapped up in the sunset, wrapped up in a forever forged by wistful dreams, and his fingertips tingle pleasantly as they tangle through his hair .

An abrupt creak. A click of the brass door handle and a sigh resonates between his ears .

“Really ?”

His lips twitch, her voice bridled with fond exasperation, and his head lolls to the side with a shrug, blinking against the sudden change from the pearly light to the shadows collecting along the walls .

“I am ready .”

Albus retorts, lazily, a half truth that lingers without heat. Pushing himself off the wall with great effort as his mothers hands slip, brushing out the creases of his shirt , and gently tugging his sleeves back down. Soft, dark eyes , narrowed but tender .

“This is not ready ,” The Queen remarks dryly, adjusting the edge of his collar. “You are stalling .”

“The rush is the fun part,” his lips pull up of their own accord , easier than his shoulders feel as the light of the sun begins to dim, like water slipping down his back.

“You sound awfully like your brother.”

“Great minds think alike.”

His mother, Queen Ginerva, snorts.

“I’m sure they do,” she responds mildly, “it’s a pity you haven’t found any.”

The mock outrage slipping along his face is thwarted, as she gently hooks a hand beneath his chin, and the pad of her thumb brushes below his eye. His voice falls into his throat and down to his lungs, lost in a swollen, nurtured ache that never quite left.

“You look tired, Sweet,” the tension is his shoulders heightens like coiled air, and drifts away as her fingers run gently through his hair, smoothing back dark curls from his face.

“Have you been sleeping?”

A simple answer, yes, easily placed into the world to push away the concern flickering like soft sundrops in her eyes. But it’s a wisp of air that slips past his lips, a half formed thought in the sting of his eyes. He looks away finding the bowl of fruit on the dark oak table, at least the oranges were ripe .

For all the silk in the world , he was not .

( ‘ oh that’s - oh god -‘ soft eyes lashes fluttering , fingers curling into his side , a dramatic slump between fresh slices “you’ve introduced me to heaven !” )

Indescribable, or not, or wishful, as everything was, and he sucks in a breath of air as the waste of his beating heart faltered. The sun was kind to him, for it had been laces and velvet and petals that adorned Scorpius, like a robe of painted leaves and a ephemeral glow touching every crevasse of his heart. Scorpius was his Achilles and it hurt .

( “ you’re silly ,” wide eyes between lingering dust in the air , a thick tomb braced on the table “ i’m patroclus , you're achilles , al “ it felt like gold dust )

His pause reigns too long, and his jaw clenches, a wince working it’s way through his shoulders and his mothers eyes soften in a way he wished they wouldn’t. He was being silly .

“Sweetheart ,”

“It's fine ,” a rasp clinging to his voice, he hurries to push it away, clearing his throat around the lump, knotted and tight and burning . “I am just not used to his absence, that is all .”

“ He will be back ,” her hands resume stroking his hair, a gentle kiss to his forehead, and he wants to slump, to falter, to call out and spend the eve like a child curled up into the sheets . “It will get easier .”

“He is not even- we are not ..”

The words are thick in his chest as they claw their way up to his mouth like acid, but he can not force them out.

“You don’t have to be together to feel a loss,” she remarks gently “ he is important to you, you miss him, that is allowed, Albus .”

“ I have duties, I have other things I should be thinking about .”

Surprise flurries up his chest as his mother laughs, a warm ringing along the walls and she squeezes his side lightly .

“Oh darling if love were that simple to separate you father would not have waited several years before proposing to me.”

And her eyes crinkle with something albus cannot place , as the air tightens in his chest . love . Was it that obvious ?

“You will find your balance in time ,” she adds , reaching across to the back of the chair and lifting up two robes .

He chooses the dark blue, rather than the green though his heart pangs with the loss of the comforting shade, the age old, it sinks further with the absence of him. And so blue slips between his fingers and clings to his shoulders like a haze, a ghost of a hug until his return .

#albus potter #ginny weasley #scorbus #next gen : scorbus beloved #scorpius malfoy mentioned #harry potter next generation #hp next gen #scorpius x albus #albus potter fic #fuck jkr #title is : outer space / carry on lyrics by 5sos

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he likes albus , not rugby .

a short snippet of something i might write .

“That doesn’t exactly look like fun,” Scorpius winces, eyebrows furrowing in the glare of the bruised sky. Albus shrugs, ears flushed a light pastel in the sharp autumn wind.

“It’s not so bad, James used to play with me.”

“Right.” And he’s not sure that sounds any better, as Yann Fredericks snatched the ball in long, weaving moments and a spray of mud clouded the air.

“Well,” he swallows thickly, “it’s definitely rougher than quidditch - and that’s something I’d never thought I’d say.”

Albus grins, and the whistle blows. His fingers squeeze the soft flannel of Scorpius’s shirt clad shoulder, they linger, half a beat, a sparkle against the glimmer, the world narrows into focus.

“See you in a bit, yeah.”

Scorpius nods , in what he hopes is a truly convincing way, as strands of hair fall against his eyes, and the pockets of his coat feel too large as his hands scrunch nervously. A shiver slips down his spine - if nothing else it was too bloody cold.

#scorbus #scorbus fic #albus playing rugby is my own hc && you don’t understand i love it so much #rainsalbus #albus potter loml #albus potter #scorpius malfoy #hp next gen #anti jkr

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honestly, i would, but the blank doc is just staring at me .. someone should give me a starting sentence

teen wolf , marauders era .

a collection of thoughts surrounding the idea of a teen wolf , hogwarts au , set in the marauders era because the angst really peaked there. [ maybe part one, if people want more ? ]

scott mccall and stiles stilinski are still best friends. scott mccall the hatstall.

scott mccall the hufflepuff head boy, who would light a path back to the common room for any student, lost in the hallowed halls at midnight.

a crooked smile, warm voice, wand tossed between his hands like butter, he wears magic on his skin and sinks to its touch.

his hardships are there in his scars, lines of all shapes and sizes and he’s not afraid to let them show.

and when he comes across eleven year old james potter and sirius black having a little too much fun, it’s his exasperated smile but the stern dip of his tone and the respect , the respect they can’t help but give that drives them on their way.

of course he’s not popular with everyone , but four gryffindor boys spend the evening hunched over a parchment of notes trying to decipher just why this mccall was so .. cool ????

and they realised, as he swept round the corner in time to catch peter pettigrew from falling down the stone steps - he was that promise. that promise of a presence, they would not be alone.

scott mccall is the hatstall, the golden boy, and stiles stilinski is the seeker.

stiles stilinski is the ravenclaw, who spent more time with the slytherins and for someone in denial of his slytherin tendencies .. maybe he felt a little bit at home there too .

stiles whose mind never stops running, and a smirk bounces across his face back and forth as his wand taps in a rhythm across every desk he meets.

sometimes he plays it like the drums to make the third years laugh. and almost always ends up sending sparks into the air, sparks that form faces in the light and mimic their teachers.

the seeker who spends too much time nose diving for scotts taste, grappling with the quaffle and keeping an eye on his best friends recklessness.

he always came up with his best plans in the air , letting the wind brush his worries from his face.

sorted a ravenclaw, more slytherin than he thought . but the others see it, their tight circle of friends, sorted a ravenclaw subconsciously hiding the slytherin at heart.

the one who winked when the marauders somehow escaped getting caught by filch.

he wasn’t the only one of course, allison argent had the same habit , but no qualms cutting the fuse on the cold hearted touches.

the gryffindor prefect, who languishes on the chairs in front of the fire and won’t give to anyone’s pleading puppy eyes

except scott mccall how does he do that

nobody bothers to ask how they get in, very rare to find one of this group without the rest.

a prefect because damn right she takes no shit from anyone , the prefect because that doesn’t just mean other houses, but gryffindor too, that doesn’t just mean she’ll deflate egos but protect them too.

allison argent was the one that taught the art of ‘we protect those that cannot protect themselves’ .

allison argent whose never seen without kira yukimura and lydia martin .

this is their home, they have made it their home, these stones walls glowing in the soft of the torches tapered to the walls.

this is their home and they never stop fighting for it . the first to roll out into the grip of war , the first of their classmates to sign along the metaphorical dotted line.

they are not the order, they do not trust the order, they are side eyes with narrowed gazes, sharing looks overhead of first years when dumbledore touches on the subject .

children at war .

and they cannot let these children take on this war.

but they will not sugarcoat it .

and ten years down the line they find the marauders in all out violence , and the order fighting back, the death eaters closing in .

and james potter still feels more in awe of them, argent with her bow and arrow, the tattoo on her side suddenly so incredibly alive.

stilinski with his gun , muggle gun, and a baseball bat never far behind .

and mccall , still head boy even after years he - he’s more of a leader in the wallow of those dark eyes than the old man pulling at the reigns .

james can trust as dumbledore takes them to war and mccall will pull them through it .

but who survives to see the end of it is anyone’s guess.

how long can they hold before they are outliving each other .

#it’s very sad #cause teen wolf marauders era is my favourite teen wolf hc

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man i’m so happy that regulus is alive and being hugged by james potter right now

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i only just realised that in season four when mary is laying on the bed and violet comes to talk to her to choose life, she’s on mathews side of the bed. i was rewatching an episode in season three and he sleeps on the right, then in season four after noticing the gramophone she’s on the right. i just thought that was kind of beautiful, because it’s intimate, a small detail you don’t really notice, something they shared, especially as she was thinking of him.

#downton abbey #mary crawley #matthew crawley

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funny how the mediterranean's been burning every summer for at least 5 years and nobody gives a shit but northern europe gets hot for a week and suddenly we all care about climate change

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i’m in my steve mcgarrett era

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no you don’t understand i was rewatching season eight and then junior was looking at places to stay and it’s the way that steve didn’t want it. and the way that junior noticed it. it’s the fact Steve couldn’t say it, and didn’t necessarily want to hurt junior’s chances of getting some place else, because he’s the boss, he’s strong, he’s a navy seal, but it’s almost like watching season one steve. there’s vulnerability there, for a moment, passed off as something nonchalant, and i think it ties in with danny not being around so much that season, followed by his talk of retirement and the way steve took that - fundamentally he just doesn’t want to be alone, and it’s scattered across all the seasons, across everyone he’s lost, but goddamnit that one scene just summed it up. especially because they heavily played into the idea of steve being the one people go to, so many references passed off as being “thats mcgarrett”, “thats what he does”, to the audience, and to the characters he’s on a pedestal, one that danny ultimately cares little for, one that junior breaks down in that scene just by noticing that something’s not quite right here - and this coming from the same guy who practically worshipped the ground steve walked on.

#hawaii five o #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #h50 #junior reigns

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h50 + gif an ep        —> 3x01

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there’s queerbaiting and then there’s whatever was happening with the gay detectives in hawaii five o