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nizar-dreams · 4 months

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If Only You Believe in Miracles So Would I Summary

"The Department of Magical Education has twisted Albus Dumbledore's arm and have required the Headmaster to get a second teacher for each core subjects at Hogwarts. Severus Snape almost weeps with relief at the news. But the school year is not without other far interesting events. With young Harry Potter starting his first year at Hogwarts, new (surprisingly competent) teachers, a suspicious Albus, and a rare and powerful artifact hidden inside the school, Severus wonders if he ends up trading less homework for even more stresses in his life."

Okay listen, this story was birthed for many reasons. My continued obsession with Severus Snape, my anger at Albus fucking Dumbledore, and the incompetency of (Wizarding) Government. But the biggest one, which bamboozles me the most, is the lack of teachers for Hogwarts.

Think. About. It.

If you have gone to a school of around 400 students, you and I are aware that at this many students, you still have at least two to three teachers per core subject. Why? Because it is a foolish notion to believe that 1 (one) teacher can even handle teaching all 400 students in one week without seriously sacrificing student education and how much you actually teach them and what they have to self study. Which, as someone who's already graduated high school nearly two years ago, self study was not my strongest suits at all unless I liked the class and teacher.

As someone who observed my own teachers and how they handled various class sizes (choir was the easiest to see as Jazz was the smallest, but we'd easily have 25+ students for regular choir and that was... ridiculous for my teacher to handle somedays.) I can confidently say, that teaching two Hogwart Houses that are easily 20-30 students per house, which means a classroom of 40-60 students, is absolutely bat shit insane.

And then you have to be a Head of House as well? Or if you're McGonagall, you're also Deputy Headmistress and having to cover for Albus bloody Dumbledore because the Headmaster has a second job as a politician and the current Minister Of Magic is an idiot? I would be sobbing and burnt out by the end of the first month. I would need a Time-Turner just to have some sleep and me time.

Or if you're Snape, you're trying to save a child from getting himself killed, while playing spy, while playing evil teacher who favours his snakes, while also having to deal with children trying to blow themselves or their classmates up in his classroom. Because potions is a dangerous art, and children, especially the first and second years, are idiots. And especially whoever decided that Gryffindors and Slytherins get to spend potions in the same classroom. Together.

Whoever makes that schedule is an idiot, or horribly optimisitc.

But as you can see that is such a ridiculous amount of pressure to put on a single teacher that teaches the core subjects at Hogwarts for virtually all 7 years. So. This story was created. The Department of Magical Education finally got the memo and were like "wow are kids are kinda... fucking stupid compared to Ilvermorny, Beauxbaton, and Durmstrang... that's mad embarassing" and told Albus that he had to get more teachers and that was not negotiable. Except for history. They don't exactly care about history it seems. (I also lowkey forgot about it, but I think it makes sense that they already have a 'nonpayed' teacher so why bother with an actual one? Don't worry some parent will make a fuss about it or something, and a good portion of the teachers are good with history anyway so its all finnneee)

Well. Here we are. I have thus 'hired' 6 additional teachers besides Quirrel. 6 competent adults who take their jobs pretty seriously. I actually love all of them, they have their quirks, and I tried diversifying the staff as much as I could without it being forced.

For instance, our new transfiguration teacher is an older gentleman, 61 years old, who studied at Beauxbaton, and from Denmark. Our Herbology teacher is a young Scottish woman, barely 28 with a boyish charm, and is subtley bisexual. Our charms teacher is 35, and they use neutral pronouns and have an otherworldly appearance with big eyes and bronzed skin. My main character, our additional potions teacher, is 41, Salvadoran-American, and gay. Our astronomy teacher is a striking Irish woman who learned at Ireland's school, Erehnoll. And lastly our other DADA teacher is a woman born in El Salvador, 37, and has lived a very interesting life since.

We're branching out, alright. Like yeah I could branch further, but already some of the canon characters who could be considered as simply 'British White' will probs not be just that. And this is just the first year with new teachers. Maybe another year if results are good, I could introduce more. (It's so many characters to jugle but I think I am doing admirably. But I think for now, the current cast is already better then years prior. If I do add more teachers, it'll be for history for sure.)

For now, this is why I made this story. That it was absurd to leave the 6 out of 7 of the core subjects to a singular teacher. I would be in tears, really. I do go more in details on the ridiculousness of this all in the story, but here I am giving you a sneak preview at a lot of my thoughts on the subject that get dramatic and also distorted through character POVs. I think it'll be fun to read it from one of the characters, it makes me smile. They seem the type to be sarcastic and dramatic in their thoughts while exasperated to the 10th power.

I can't wait for Janurary 1st. I'm so excited for you all to see the chaos.

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late-to-the-fandom · 1 year

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WIP Snippet

thank you @mysdrym for the tag to post a WIP snippet! Here’s a shameless plug for my AU story A Shadow UNIverse, in which I invent an excuse to continue not using the Maw Walker’s real name for another full story 😂

“Oh, you must mean our resident Maw Walker!" exclaimed Theotar at Renathal's description when he came round in the afternoon to bring the staff tea. The short, jovial man enjoyed a reputation that outshone his stature: for knowing everything about everyone in the department, and for his unparalleled brew. Renathal raised an eyebrow. ”A Maw Walker?” It was the less-than-affectionate nickname given to students banished to the old campus housing. The tall, decrepit buildings loomed out of the concrete like jagged teeth around the desolate, natureless chasm lurking in the middle that was the old quad. The Maw, they called it. The new campus had warm tunnels and brightly lit covered walkways to ferry students to all the important school buildings without having to brave the elements. But those relegated to the older campus were forced to walk across the unprotected, ever-shadowed Maw to get anywhere they needed to go. It was the housing given to students and staff who couldn't afford anything else, and precious few of either came through Denathrius' department. "How did she get stuck in the Maw?" "Well, she is new, and presumably not well off," explained Theotar as he prepared Renathal's cuppa. "An exchange student from one of those foreign places.” He gestured vaguely in no particular direction. "On a student visa, you know, so the only work she can get is with the school and I believe they put her up there at a reduced fee. She has helped in the kitchens several times, and I confess, I've grown most fond of her. She’s quite the tea aficionado, we can chat about it for ages, and she does bamboozle with that sense of humour!” Renathal wondered if they were talking about the same person after all. “And how do you say her name?" “Oh, no one knows that,” Theotar tittered, tapping the spoon against the side of the cup with three delicate clinks. “She tried once to explain how to pronounce it, but … I’m afraid no one could quite grasp all its subtle nuances. So, the Maw Walker moniker stuck!

Tagging: @shipping-through-eternity @cljordan-imperium @laplumedemaureen @msahagunauthor @smzeszikorova @pancakewithamace @charlottewritings @frozen-fountain if you want to post a snippet from whatever you’re currently working on (no rule length, entirely lawless, go wild)

#tag games #a shadow UNIverse #renathal x maw walker #prince renathal #duke theotar

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adhonoremrpbios · 2 years

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-- CHARACTER --

Name: Rishan “Rhys” Amin Faceclaim: Manish Dayal Age: 29 Blood Status: Halfblood Affiliation: Neutral Former School & House: Hogwarts, Slytherin Occupation: Stage Magician and Professional Trickster

-- BIOGRAPHY --

- Rhys and his twin brother, Ravee, got to live the best of both worlds as half-bloods. They enjoyed the fantasy that muggles created. For Ravee, that was comic books about superheroes. For Rhys, it was stage magic.

- When they went to Hogwarts, Rhys was sorted into Slytherin and Ravee in Hufflepuff. It didn’t matter that they were in different houses, because they were still the closest of friends. They helped each other study, and, when it was necessary, even swapped places with each other. Very few people could tell them apart.

- After school, Rhys was eager to enter the world of performing. He wanted Ravee to go with him as a double act, but his brother didn't care for the limelight like him. He joined the Hogwarts Staff as the muggle studies teacher while Rhys started performing on street corners in muggle London.

- There were still times that the two swapped places though, when Ravee needed a break. Rhys would take over a lesson and none of the students would have a clue. At least, all except one. One year, there was a girl who saw right through him. She was observant and sharp, like him, and he made a note to keep an eye on her.

- It turns out, she did something similar. After she graduated, she ended up finding him and joining his act. She came from a family of performers so she had the necessary skill set, but it was also more than that. Right from the moment they'd made eye contact across the classroom and she'd fixed him with that knowing, insider stare, he'd known. A magician was only as good as his assistant, and Celeste was his key to success.

- After trying to start their act in London and finding little success, the two travelled to America - the land of opportunity. Things were rough at the beginning. They moved from shitty apartment to shitty apartment, booking gigs where they could, earning favours where they couldn't. Behind closed doors, Rhys did things to earn money and make connections that he'd never admit to Celeste. He'd promised her the stars, and he wasn't going to stop until he'd made good on that.

- Unfortunately, even as they started getting more successful professionally, the struggles they faced at home kept building. They were tired and irritable and it wasn't too long before they got into a nasty fight. Rhys said some things he instantly regretted, and Celeste left. It was only when he was alone in his apartment that he realized that his feelings for her - that his driving need to give her a good life - were more than just professional. He was in love with her. Perhaps he always had been. But it didn't matter. He'd lost her, and wasn't good enough for her anyway. She deserved the stars, and all he could offer was smoke and mirrors.

- When she came back, he apologized for everything he'd said. He promised he wouldn't be so intense, and he'd listen to her more, and that there was no one else in the world he'd rather perform with. He's doing his best to honour that.

- Rhys and Celeste frequently use magic in their act and as a result, have definitely had to run away from MACUSA once or twice. Not only do they use spells, but Rhys is a Legilimens and Celeste is an Animagus.

- Having reached a level of fame that makes them both international sensations, Rhys and Celeste have returned to the UK to dazzle and bamboozle a new audience.

-- TRAITS --

Negative - Dishonest - Single-minded Positive + Ingenious + Enterprising

Rishan Amin is taken by Ty.

#rishan amin #A #taken

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beesmygod · 4 years

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teens and weird adults like me of tumblr, i am asking a favor of you: please arm yourself with the knowledge of how the Internet Archive National Emergency Library lending system operated prior to its dissolution so you are not bamboozled by the weird barrage of bizarre lies being spread about it. for a group of people who claim to love reading, none of the people criticizing it apparently bothered to actually look into how the archive functioned and are now willing to destroy one of the most important and valuable resources available to everyone, everywhere.

i’m going to try to make my case here, and i have no doubt there will be gnashing of teeth from people arguing the letter of the law over the spirit of it but i will address that as well. the “damage” done to publishers was near nonexistent but in exchange the publishers who have filed the lawsuit are willing to destroy the archive under the crushing weight of monetary punishment.

the Internet Archive is literally an online library and is recognized as a library by the state of california. it is not a pirate site.

you cannot download the books on the internet archive website. the only book available for download are those in the public domain. all other books can be checked out the same as you would check out any other e-book at any other brick and mortar library. you can borrow the book for 14 days. the books are protected with DRM and copyright protection to prevent theft.

the books online are purchased or donated, and then scanned. you can only borrow as many books as there are physical copies available at the library. so if there is one copy of war and peace available as an e-book and i check it out, you will have to wait until i’m done with it to check it out yourself. this is slightly different than how regular libraries do it, but regular libraries are currently at war with publishers over e-books and how they fit into libraries.

the national emergency library was temporary. it was slated to last from march 24th to june 30th. it was made specifically in response to the pandemic.

the only change to the current process of book lending was the suspension of wait-lists. this means that for 3 months, multiple people could check out the same book for 14 days. they were able to accomplish this by using the collections from the phillips academy andover, marygrove college, and trent university. the statement from the Internet Archive includes this information:

During the waitlist suspension, users will be able to borrow books from the National Emergency Library without joining a waitlist, ensuring that students will have access to assigned readings and library materials that the Internet Archive has digitized for the remainder of the US academic calendar, and that people who cannot physically access their local libraries because of closure or self-quarantine can continue to read and thrive during this time of crisis, keeping themselves and others safe.

... Public support for this emergency measure has come from over 100 individuals, libraries and universities across the world, including the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT). “Ubiquitous access to open digital content has long been an important goal for MIT and MIT Libraries. Learning and research depend on it,” said Chris Bourg, Director of MIT Libraries. “In a global pandemic, robust digital lending options are key to a library’s ability to care for staff and the community, by allowing all of us to work remotely and maintain the recommended social distancing.”

... A final note on calling this a “National Emergency” Library. We lend to the world, including these books. We chose that language deliberately because we are pegging the suspension of the waitlists to the duration of the US national emergency. Users all over the world have equal access to the books now available, regardless of their location.

ok, there are 2 things i want to address now:

the argument that by supporting this writers don’t make money: the fault for this does not and will never lay at the feet of librarians. after reading all of the above, i would find it very difficult to sincerely believe that an author’s royalty money was severely impacted by three months of 14 days library checkouts. we really cannot allow ourselves to start declaring libraries as our financial enemies because they allow the poor to access things they otherwise would not be able to access. institutions that make information freely available to the public need to be preserved at all costs (source: was librarian).

this is a fault in the publisher. the publisher is the one who profits the most from a book sale and the publisher is the one who is filing the lawsuit. the publishing industry is a group of leeches that cling to you as you slowly attempt to make a living.

a library does not hurt profits. a library is a public service.

even if you want to adhere to the letter of the law, i find it extremely difficult to condemn the actions of the internet archive. there was no financial reason for what they did, no malice and no ulterior motive. their national emergency library was a response to brick and mortar libraries being closed in the wake of a pandemic and shutting off a stream of information to people who needed it (especially students!). in response to catastrophe they stepped up and offered a solution. to condemn them under false pretenses (as many did, by calling it a pirate site and weirdly claiming you could download books an unlimited amount of times [?]) has been calamitous.

this was a huge post lol. if you really read this thank you. i hope it made sense. my motive for writing this is not bc i think writers should be poor and should work for free so don’t get it twisted (i draw a dumbass webcomic so i Get It). i just really like libraries and am really upset at the smear job this one got.

please donate to the internet archive.

#it you respond to this in a way that indicates you clearly did not read it im going to make a mess of your pots and pans

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rhenuvee · 4 years

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PDA (Fred Weasley x reader)

A/N: So I’ve seen a lot of headcanons for Fred that he is big on PDA with his s/o, so here is a fic about it. Lightly based on the song PDA by Scott Helman- WOW who would’ve known.

Warnings: If it wasn’t obvious already- a l o t o f M A K I N G O U T, and George being done with your BS x5

*I realized I’m an idiot for not doing this sooner so tell me if you’d like to be tagged in my future fics. I write for 3 fandoms so please specify which one!*

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It was your seventh year at Hogwarts and you had mixed feelings about it. Last year was overwhelming with the events of the Triwizard Tournament, you hoped that this year would be better (aha sike bich). The thing you did look forward to however, was seeing Fred.

The two of you actually just started dating after he asked you to the Yule ball. In fact, he was a little overwhelming himself... in a good way though. He was never shy to show affection, even when others were around which was embarrassing sometimes.

He would hold you close by wrapping his long arm around your shoulder while walking together in the hallways, cuddling in the common room, give you hugs that would squeeze the life out of you, and good lord- the snogging especially made you red-faced. The hot intimacy between the both of you did not leave room for keeping your hands off each other.

Or as George corrected, your faces.

You walked down the hall with the destination of the entrance of the great hall fixated in your mind, surprisingly not noticing the two redheads sticking out of the crowd of students, until-

“WHERE IS MY GORGEOUS GIRLFRIEND?! I CAN’T SEEM TO FIND HER, (Y/N) DARLING WHERE ARE YOU?!” yelled your boyfriend being obnoxiously loud and attracting weird looks and giggles from other students. Your eyes immediately found him and started marching towards his and his twin’s direction with both your hands covering the sides of your face, like a horse with blinders. As if that made the situation any better.

“Fred..!” you whisper scolded him. You already predicted the mischievous smirk that appeared on his face.

“Yes love, what’s the problem?” he said rather neutrally trying to sound naive. You deadpanned.

“You were just a tad too quiet there.” you said sarcastically.

“Really, should I say it louder-”

“No Fred-”

“Well what did you expect, for him to shut up?” asked George scoffing and earning a hit to his arm by his twin. You giggled.

“Not like you could do any better,” retorted Fred. “Go in already.” George shook his head in annoyance as he was shooed away into the great hall. You were about to head in as well when Fred’s hand stopped you and turned you around back to face him.

“Not going to leave me hanging without a kiss are you?” he asked with his hand on your waist. You subconsciously walked closer to him, it felt warm in his embrace. You pecked him on the lips trying to be cheeky, but when you were about to pull back quickly, he was faster and brought you back to his lips with his hand lightly on your cheek.

You gave into the kiss, you really had missed him. And you could tell he did too by the way he was kissing you. He deepened the kiss, his lips tasted like chocolate. But you could feel that almost everyone was in the great hall already, and that you were going to end up with bruised lips again and tardiness.

You were running out of breath- but that’s just how Fred liked it. Kissing you until you’re completely breathless and had to lean against him for support.

“F-Fred...” you said in between breaths trying your hardest to resist the urge to kiss him more. He pulled away slowly with a huge grin on his face, still holding you close to him. He chuckled at how much you looked like you needed an inhaler.

“Fine, to be continued then.” he said grabbing your hand and walked with you to the Gryffindor table to sit.

The table looked full from the view from the entrance, but once Fred spotted where his twin was, there was an empty space saved for the two of you. It wasn’t long before you and your boyfriend were immersed in the conversation and laughter with your friends around you. It also wasn’t long before George lost his appetite after seeing you and Fred getting all mushy.

Everyone paused their talking and eating when Dumbledore came up to announce the new changes in staff. The lady in pink who you now know was Dolores Umbridge. She seemed... interesting...

“-I’m sure we’re all going to be very good friends.” she said with her hands clasped.

“That’s likely.” the twins said rather loud enough for it for others to hear it. You hit them both lightly at the same time while shaking your head, as if scolding them. They giggled at your reaction.

-------------------------

Your high hopes that this year wouldn’t be chaotic really did you a bamboozle. You tried your best to remain positive, and that maybe Umbridge would turn out to be a good teacher but she really did prove you wrong.

On the particular day that you got the lines etched into your own skin, you felt a mixture of anger and sadness. Before, you could feel your grades getting lower, your assignments and classroom performance getting sloppier and just overall not like you at all. The blood quill was just the cherry on top.

The thoughts worsened when you thought about how Fred would react. You knew he would be furious, seeing as he was already frustrated when many others close to him had to write lines with the blood quill.

“Just tell him (y/n), you can’t keep something like this from him.” said Hermione putting a hand on your arm. You shook your head and covered the hand with the scars by pulling your sleeve up. Harry and Ron were also there to comfort you while the common room was bustling with the people still up.

Not much longer, Fred, George and Lee walked in from the portrait hole. You tensed up and suddenly felt stiff. Hermione gave you a reassuring look to try and ease your nerves. The trio then went to do their own things so they wouldn’t be pressuring you.

“Hey doll, why the long face?” he said plopping right next to you and tilting your chin with his index finger to face him. You smiled attempting to mask your real feelings.

“It’s nothing Freddie, just tired.” you said pecking his cheek. A frown appeared on his face as his hand moved to run through the bunches of hair that came loose.

“I can tell when you’re lying love, please tell me what’s wrong.” he pleaded. How could you say no to those eyes?

“I-It’s just that I’m not doing too well on my schoolwork, and I don’t feel like I’ll get my dream job and I don’t know maybe I’m just not working hard or doing enough-“

“Darling.” he said sternly interrupting your rambling. You could feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

“I don’t want to hear that you think that you’re not enough or any crap like that. Umbridge’s stupid rules and methods aren’t worth a single tear from your pretty face. So please love, don’t be so hard on yourself.” he said sweetly, wiping the tears away with his thumb. You wiped your face with your sleeve, but that’s when Fred saw it. He felt better knowing that he cheered you up somehow but it went back to concern as he saw the lines on your hand as your sleeve stretched up.

“What did she do to you.” he said not drifting his gaze away from your eyes. Uh oh. You gulped and pulled your hand away quickly, not wanting him to observe your hand any longer. He grabbed your arm back, pulled up the sleeve, then stood up like he was about to leave. You felt nauseous, your boyfriend was nothing but wrath.

“I swear I will-“

“Fred, no!”

“And why not?!” he shot back quickly. People’s attention were now at the two of you.

“Because there’s no way to fix it Fred! It will only make things worse, and I don’t want you to get hurt!” you cried, grabbing his hand trying to prevent him from doing something he would regret. You winced at the memory of the day he had to write lines.

Fred hated to admit but you were right. There wasn’t anything he could do. He especially did not want to make you upset. He messed up his hair with his hands stiff in frustration and sighed.

“You’re right darling, I’m sorry I got mad. It’s just I can’t stand Toadface hurting you...” he trailed off, sitting back down with you.

“If it makes you feel better, you look hot when you’re mad.” you said in his ear getting closer to him. He was surprised at your words, but it didn’t take long for him to get cocky again.

“You really think so?” he asked smirking and running his hand through his hair again. He always knew how to get you riled up.

You could tell that was not the end of it. His mouth opened and you knew he was about to yell it out. You covered his mouth with your hand and his announcement came muffled. Both of you laughed before Fred removed your hand.

“What was that for darling? I wasn’t gonna say anything.” he said.

“Yeah right, knowing how much of a clown you are I really don’t think so.” you said.

“You wound me darling, really.” he said putting his hand to his chest. He then remembered the scars on your hand and frowned at the sight of them. He rubbed his thumb on them lightly as if to soothe them.

“Hey, why don’t we just cuddle here tonight.” you said trying to distract him from your scars. A grin appeared on his face.

“That might’ve been the best idea you’ve had all day love, cmon then.” he said opening his arms for you to dive into.

———————————

You were really sad the day Fred and George flew out of Hogwarts. Yes, you were over the moon to see Umbridge’s face running away, and you were especially proud of the twins. But you couldn’t help but for your heart to feel empty without Fred.

They’ve told you first when planning the prank. Fred was particularly upset at himself that he had to leave you, but you reassured him that you wanted him to follow his dream, and that you wanted so bad to see the shop. The long lasting kiss you had before he left was his motivation to make the shop a success.

Finally, the day came when you were able to see the shop of the first time. Ginny, Hermione, Harry and Ron agreed to go with you.

“(Y/n), slow down!” Shouted Ginny from the distance. But you couldn’t- you couldn’t wait to see Fred much longer. You ran the whole way to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, not caring that you were running out of breath quickly.

You swung open the door and took in the view of the shop- it was amazing.

“(Y/n)!” a familiar voice called out from the top of the stairs. Your eyes were immediately fixed on the bright figure- your Fred.

You both began to run and dodge through the crowd to find each other. You missed him, and he missed you.

“Freddie!” you called out, able to see his fiery red hair moving quickly. Like in those muggle movies, you both ran towards each other and Fred twirled you around before kissing you. It was cheesy, but you didn’t care anymore, you were together again.

You almost crashed into each other when you embraced and had a passionate kiss that was long overdue. It was sloppy, and his hands were everywhere. But that was just how he liked it- kissing you until you were breathless and leaning on him for support. Suddenly running was not such a good idea.

“Oooookay ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the minor inconvenience, if everyone could just take a precaution and swerve away from the lovebirds, you will be fine.” announced George to the people.

Both you and Fred pulled away with lips very bruised. Customers made weird faces, and parents steered their kids out of your way. I mean, you were kissing in the middle of the shop.

“Sod off, mate.” said Fred, his voice slightly quieter since he was out of breath. George only shrugged.

“I will, don’t want to throw up in the middle of the store do I?” questioned George. You giggled and Fred rolled his eyes.

“Oh, and (y/n), it’s really good to see you,” he said hugging you. “We missed you a lot, not sure if you could tell.”

Your eyebrows raised at Fred who looked the other direction and whistled pretending not to know again. And with that, George winked and turned on his heel to leave.

“Well, for once he wasn’t wrong.” admitted Fred. Looking at the way your lips were puffed in the middle of the shop, he definitely wasn’t.

“Now where’s my grand opening gift?” he asked playfully. You realized that you hadn’t prepared anything. You felt embarrassed that you didn’t get your boyfriend a present for his shop that was clearly a success.

“I’m kidding love, just a kiss will do.” he said bringing his large hand to rub the side of your neck. Getting a closer look at him, you could see slight differences from the last time you saw him. His hair was messier, and the red really stood out from the colours of the shop. You could see his freckles and dimples much clearer now.

Fred was about to lean in to kiss you again when George purposely bumped shoulders with him with a flimsy piece of cardboard in his hands.

“Oi, George what the hell?” asked Fred. George said nothing but turned and flipped the piece of cardboard to reveal the words ‘NO PDA’ on it. Oh, it was a sign specifically for you two.

“No need to be such a party pooper, Georgie. This is Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, not Wealsey’s Wizard Gheezers.” said Fred earning a hearty laugh from you.

“Your constant lip-locking is making the customers disgusted, and honestly I am too.” he grumbled.

“Maybe he’s feeling lonely...” you whispered to your boyfriend.

“I’m not lonely!” George protested. Oops, he heard you.

“(Y/n) does make a good point, maybe we should contact Angie-“ teased Fred. You smiled at the thought. You remembered back then when George was swooning over her, but never acted upon it.

“Don’t you dare.” said George with this eyebrows crossed but a light pink evident on his cheeks.

You felt giddy as you watched your boyfriend and his twin bickering. You could only imagine how happy you’d be hanging around the shop-

However, you’d have to find a way out of that ‘NO PDA’ sign.

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Link to pt2: Part 2

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley fic #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #george wealsey

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anthropwashere · 4 years

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Phic Phight: set the self upon the shelf

Prompt from @five-rivers: Jack and Maddie acquire the pieces of Freakshow's staff.

@currentlylurking @phicphight

Word count: 3,841

In hindsight, Danny should have expected something like this to happen. He'd been on a good streak; a really good streak. No catastrophes, no explosions, no be-all, end-all ultimatums with terrible creatures trying to squeeze the life out of some poor schmuck trying to go about their day. Heck, aside from a few toothy Day-Glo bright beasties waking him up just shy of his alarm and the usual irritation of the Box Ghost haranguing the nearest postal office, things have been easy. There hasn't even been any test to stress out over. So with how his luck usually is, he's overdue for a bad day.

Today's that day, turns out. It's just not so obvious as bad days usually go for him anymore. It's insidious, creeping, sly.

Worst of all, his parents are the ones to blame, and they're not even trying to take Phantom apart molecule by molecule this time.

It's a Wednesday, as dull as any other Wednesday can be, when he unlocks the front door of FentonWorks, leaving it open for Sam and Tucker to come in after him. They're all in the middle of another round of friendly bickering, some he-said she-said I-read-this-article goofing with no stakes or real anger in any of their threats to shut the others up. They're just goofing. Danny locks the door once they're in, punches in the pass code on the panel his parents had installed a couple months back so the trigger-happy security system doesn't take umbrage with whatever-the-hell just strolled in through the front door. Tucker's managed to bamboozle the security somehow—Danny can almost follow along with the concept of coding if Tucker's in the mood to skip the jargon, but sit him in front of a command prompt with nary a word of English to be found and his whole brain just fritzes out in self-defense—and point is, the security recognizes Danny's not very human, but it does the software equivalent of a shrug and dumps the notifications into a hidden folder his parents would need to get real creative finding.

He means to lead them to the stairs to dump their backpacks off in his bedroom before raiding the kitchen. The Box Ghost had decided to ruin lunch today instead of Algebra, like a jerk, and Danny's starving as a consequence of his sandwich ending up on the floor and burning up a ton of energy chasing the idiot around the entire school six times. He's trying not to laugh as Sam keeps up her rant on how unreliable sad nerds on forums are for relaying what cocaine-addled movie producers in LA may or may not have agreed to, when Tucker says, "Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"Where you going?"

Danny blinks. He's halfway down the stairs to his parents' lab. He didn't even notice. "Uh," he says, turning around. Sam and Tucker are still on the top step, raising identical eyebrows at him. "Sorry. Habit."

"BG can wait, dude. I didn't get to eat either."

"Ha. Right."

They go upstairs, Sam picking up her rant again on the second-floor landing. They drop their bags off in his room and tromp downstairs again. Danny flicks the light switch on as he passes through the doorway to the—

"Danny?"

He blinks. Halfway down to the lab again, and he'd been sure he was in the kitchen this time. He swallows, putting on a sheepish grin for his friends as he trots back up to them again. Tucker looks amused so he almost thinks he's gotten away without worrying them, but one look at Sam tells him to dump that hope in the trash and forget about it. Her painted mouth is downturned and distinctly worried. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he says. The funny thing is, it's not even a lie. "Why?"

She hesitates, then shakes her head. So he's not worrying her enough that she needs to make a parade of it. That's good. That's great. All he wants to focus on right now is microwaving the entire box of taquitos his Dad snuck into the grocery cart the last time his parents went shopping, and then eating it as fast as half-humanly as possible.

Jazz comes home while they're all splayed out in the kitchen, poking her head in to say hi and ask if he needs any cover stories drummed up with lunch having been so chaotic. "Nah," he assures her, "I'll just dump the Box Ghost into the Portal after Mom and Dad go to bed. Thanks, though."

"Patrol tonight?"

"Always."

"Let me know when you head out?"

"Sure."

She smiles at him warmly, and not for the first time is Danny glad to have her in on his secret. She's overbearing and controlling and way, way too worried about rule-breaking, but still. It's nice. He trusts her, he loves her, and he gets no small amount of delight at having her in on all the ridiculous excuses he concocts for his parents. He has no idea how he managed so long without her helping him keep his secret.

"Don't let him do anything stupid," she tells Sam and Tucker. Tucker gives her a mock-salute without looking up from his phone.

"That's a tall order," Sam says with a roll of her eyes. Danny elbows her. She elbows him right back, and hers are sharp.

Jazz laughs so hard she snorts. It's a sure sign she's comfortable around Danny's friends, which is a lovely relief all on its own. For all that they don't talk much about not-ghost stuff, Danny knows she's struggled to make friends for a long time, knows she's lonely, knows she's just as happy to be included in all the Phantom business as he is to have her there beside him. She waves a touch sarcastically at them and goes off to her own room, presumably to be a good straight-A student and do all her homework for the rest of the month somehow.

Whatever. Danny's got a full-sized mountain of taquitos to plough through and nothing the least bit life-threatening on his radar for the foreseeable future. That's as sure to change in the next five minutes as it always is. He's used to having a tight knot of panic clenched around his heart and/or the funny little cold spot where his ghostly core leaks through to his human side. He's always on edge, always ready for something. It's half the reason he can't remember the last time he got a decent night's sleep, too stressed to do more than toss restlessly in his bed until the wee hours, and the proper ghosts all seemed to have unanimously decided that five a.m. is the best time ever to come charging through the Portal to cause a little pre-dawn havoc.

"Danny?"

He blinks, and he's halfway down the stairs to the lab again.

He licks his lips, swallowing nervousness. He... he doesn't even remember leaving the kitchen. He looks over his shoulder to find Sam and Tucker up on the top step again, equal amounts of concern furrowing their brow. Down in the lab he hears his parents' voices, just low enough that he can't make out individual words over the heady thrum of the Ghost Portal. "Uh," he says.

"Something's wrong," Sam says. it's not a question.

"I'm okay," he says automatically. "Really. Not lying. Just... I dunno. Let's go upstairs."

They go upstairs. Danny plows through his taquitos as originally intended, relaying through rude mouthfuls that he really does feel fine, totally normal (for him, shut up Tucker). He doesn't think he's losing time or anything as worrying as that. He's just... going through the motions so much that he doesn't even notice when he misses his mark.

Sam and Tucker do not like the sound of that, but he convinces them to let it lie. His parents are probably just working on some new gadget. He'll take a look at the lab later tonight. It's not like it feels evil or anything. It doesn't even hurt, which considering the trend of ghost hunting gizmos they've drummed up the last few months is a welcome change of pace. It's fine, really. He's fine, really.

"If you're sure," Tucker says, doubtful.

"I am. Give it a rest, will ya?"

They do, and they reluctantly bunker down to make a decent dent in their homework so they won't have to worry about it in that anxious gray waiting after dinner with their families and before they can sneak out for patrol. Normal kids do their homework after dinner. Not them. They're halfway between valedictorian and delinquent in their habits, toeing the line between abandoning homework entirely and only keeping up with it as best they can to avoid any unnecessary eyes. Danny can't afford the extra attention.

The afternoon wanes, evening looming like an executioner's axe—Sam and Tucker are all too aware of how long they've gone without a proper catastrophe too—and sooner than they'd prefer it's time to part ways. Sam and Tucker gather up their things and hide away their patrol schedules and the like in the hollow space in Danny's ceiling as per usual. Then the three of them tromp down the stairs again to dump their plates in the sink and pay lip service to a goodnight until tomorrow in case Danny's parents are around. They're not at first glance, or at second glance for that matter, but better safe than sorry. Danny starts to follow them to the door, uneasy of the doorway down the lab yawning like a mouth, and this time he feels it—

(come here)

—but there's nothing for it. Knowing he's being bidden down the basement doesn't stop him from swiveling on his heel to start down the polished stairs. It's only Sam's quick reaction that stops him only two steps down, her hand a firm vice on his bent elbow.

"Yeah," he says, a little breathless with surprise. "Felt it that time."

"Only that time?" Tucker asks in a tone firmly detailing how little he likes the sound of that.

Danny looks over his shoulder to nod at them both. "It doesn't hurt," he reminds them. "It's okay. I can handle—whatever it is they're doing down there."

"Tell Jazz," Sam says, which is surprising enough that Tucker gawks at her too. It's not like she and Jazz get along, after all. Danny promises, too surprised to scoff or tease her for worrying over nothing. Maybe that should've been a warning sign too.

He waves them off at the door, locking it and punching in the code again with a habit so well-honed he doesn't even think about it, and before he knows it he's blinking harsh neon green light out of his eyes. Down in the basement, and he only remembers walking down the stairs after the fact.

"Danny-boy!" His dad shouts with his usual boisterous energy from over near one of the examination tables. His mom's off at one of the far counters, bent over a heavily modified microscope. Both of them have their hoods up, and Danny has to swallow a shiver when his dad looms too close. Something about the goggles always reminds him of how a praying mantis' eyes bulge; charmingly goofy right up until it snatches its prey up in its scythe-like forearms.

"H-hey, Dad."

"Whoa, is it that late already? Baby cakes, it's almost six!"

His mom straightens up with a murmured groan as her back pops audibly. Her red-lipped smile ratchets right up into something uncanny and wrong without her eyes visible to soften the bright flash of teeth. "Is it? Oh, hell, I completely forgot to take the hamburgers out to thaw. Danny—hi, sweetie—do you mind calling in take-out? Your choice."

"Uh. Sure, no problem." Funny. Never mind the taquitos he devoured an hour ago, he's always on the cusp of starving. Ghost powers or puberty, or both. He doesn't know and it doesn't really matter so long as nobody notices how much he puts away without gaining an ounce. He casts a wide glance around the lab, feigning bored curiosity, hoping to find some strange new device with his dad's face stickered all over it that will explain this weird urge demanding he be down here—

—and feels his heart and core both stutter at the sight of what's laid beneath his dad's broad hands.

"What," he chokes out. It's all he can manage. His usual anxiety—something's coming, something will come for him, any moment now, any moment, soon soon soon—transmogrifies into a full-blown panic attack so fast he feels the air in his lungs literally, genuinely freeze. He clenches his jaw against the coughing fit threatening to expose him as wrong, pointing at the long black staff laid on the table instead.

"Oh, this? You're never gonna believe it, Dann-o." His dad beams at him, proud of his work and glad his son's taking an interest in it. "We got a call yesterday on the 800 number. Some hiker found this thing absolutely covered in little ghosts down in Little Grand Canyon and figured this thing oughta have a proper once over from us instead of being left to lie where the river'd dumped it."

"It appears to generate a frequency too high for humans to perceive," his mom chimes in, walking over to join them at the table. She shoos a small sparrow-looking ghost away with naked disgust curling her mouth; it goes sailing on stiff wings off to settle on a sturdy crate off in one corner, red eyes leaving streaking after-images as it twists and ducks its little head, taking in all the strangeness of the lab. Danny pretends as hard as he can that he can't hear it asking, where am i? where am i?

"That's right," his dad confirms, plucking the staff up with a frivolous little twirl that has his mom swatting his shoulder with a laugh. "There must have been thirty birds and snakes and the like swarming all over this thing when we got there this morning. We had to melt the lot of them to get our hands on this thing, and we've got no idea yet what got them so interested in this thing."

"At first glance it's only a simple iron-wrought staff," his mom says, tugging it free from his dad's hands to display the detailed bat at its top and the glittering shards of crimson-colored glass running down its back. "But see this glass? There's a tremendous amount of energy emitting from it—harmless to humans, don't worry. But that bird's the seventh ghost we've seen since we brought this thing down here. Something about the frequency is compelling to ghosts. They have to come see what's going on. Although why they feel such a compunction or what this thing's original purpose was is beyond me...."

In the back of Danny's mind he hears an echo of an echo of Freakshow's voice urging him on. (take it. bring it back to me. come home. come home to me.)

"Yeah," he manages thinly. "Weird."

They ramble on for a while, too giddy to have him showing an interest in their work to recognize that his interest stems from something adjacent to terror. He musters a rictus grin, nodding like some wall-eyed bobblehead toy when they look to him for input. All the while the beady red eyes of the bat on the staff burn his skin like lit cigarettes, like brands, like red-hot manacles he might not be able to shake this time.

(come here,) the staff bids him, its voice so gentle it could his own mind assuring him that this is the best idea he's ever had. (take me. bring me home. bring me to him. it will all be so much better once we're his again.)

"Dinner," he chokes out eventually, backing away toward the stairs. "I should—order. Order. Dinner. Pizza?"

"Sounds good to me," his dad says cheerfully. "You know what I like."

"My wallet's in the kitchen," his mom adds.

(stay,) the staff says. (take me. bring me home.)

"Nngh," he says, nodding dutifully. He doesn't know who to. It takes far more effort to climb the stairs this time, his grip white-knuckled on the banister, his gaze reluctantly dragged away from the basement and up to the living room. Once there he blinks, feeling the tug of the staff fade to something slight again. He can ignore it up here, but now that he knows what it is he can't stop hearing-feeling it.

(come here,) it urges. (downstairs. i'm here. take me back. take me home. come home with me—)

He slaps his hands over his ears (for all the good it does), and stomps over to the kitchen where the landline is. Pizza. He. He's gotta order dinner. His parents will suspect him if he doesn't do this one perfectly normal thing.

He dials. He orders. He fumbles around his mom's wallet for her debit card. He manages a stammered apology to the person on the line, who laughs indulgently and tells him "No worries!" in a tone that says she knows how young he is just by his voice. Underestimating him. Simple human. Stupid human. He could show her how wrong she is. He should show her. Scare her. Make her scream. Hurt her—

He drops the phone, breathing heavily.

Shit.

"Hello?" The girl's tinny voice asks uncertainly, a hundred miles away at his feet.

He picks the phone up. "S-sorry. Anyway, the number's...."

He finishes the order. The girl on the phone tells him to expect the driver to arrive in about 45 minutes. He makes a few incomprehensible noises that might translate to something like a thank you if the girl happens to feel real generous. He's never calling this pizza place again.

Once the phone's back on the receiver he bolts up through the ceiling, straight up to the roof, past the Ops Center, up up up until he feels the final sticky thread of the staff let him go, until he's skirting the scraggly cloud cover and thinking clearly enough to realize he really ought to ditch visibility while he's up here trying to figure out what the fuck he's gonna do next.

Freakshow's in jail.

Freakshow doesn't have the staff.

Freakshow can't control him now. He can't. He can't.

It's the staff. Just the staff down there, and whatever about it that makes it so—intoxicating? Smothering? Comforting?

He's far enough away that it's easy to recoil from that. It's not a comfort. It's not. It's not easy, or gentle, or good. It's piano wire tugging on his joints, turning his mind to so much waterlogged cotton. There's no knowing what the staff would do to him without someone at the metaphorical wheel. Just because what he remembers from when Freakshow controlled him is a warm, soft cocoon doesn't make it right. He put humans—people—in the hospital. He stole thousands of dollars worth of jewelry from eight different stores in six days. He nearly killed Sam.

These are things he knows because he was told them secondhand. He read articles, watched news reports, listened to Sam shakily try to convince him that she was okay, really, just as he'd done to her a hundred times before.

But the truth of the matter is this: he has no concrete memories of that week spent under Freakshow's thumb. He remembers warmth, and rightness, and glee. He remembers feeling a good so giddy it might be better than any description of any drug he's ever heard of. He knows the comedown was hard, and disorienting, and cold, and that he couldn't shake the ring of Freakshow's laughter in his ears for weeks. He knows that the majority of him hated every minute of not being himself. He knows that nine-tenths of him still feels a touch unclean in a way he doesn't know how to voice to Sam and Tucker, to know that he did those things without any semblance of self, and that last little part of him reveled in just... letting go. Running wild. In doing things for the fun of it and not caring at all about consequences, because what did consequences matter to a ghost?

There's a very, very tiny part of himself that wishes for the freedom of that feeling. Yoked and manacled in the sticky, impossible-to-resist way of magic, but free from the burdens of Danny Fenton. No expectations, no future, no what-ifs, no curfews, no algebra. Just Phantom. Just free to do whatever he pleases.

Skittishly he looks down at FentonWorks a thousand feet below, unsure if he's put enough distance between himself and the staff, unsure if he can trust his own thoughts yet. He doesn't know. He doesn't think there's any way to know for sure.

What should he do?

What can he do?

Just being within easy reach of the staff puts prickles all down his spine, numbs his hands and feet and tongue. He broke it. That's how he got free of Freakshow. He dropped it to save Sam because she was more important, and it broke, and now he's free. He's free. He is.

Maybe the orb-thing wasn't the source.

Maybe....

He doesn't know.

He can't let his parents keep it. That much he does know. If they figure out how to utilize it, even at a fraction of what Freakshow was capable of, then there'd be no winning. Phantom could barely fight it with Sam begging for her life right in front of him, and that was with a stranger at the reins. If his mom or dad told him to come down to the lab and lay down on an examination table....

He can't.

What can he do?

His hip buzzes, so unexpected he drops twenty feet before catching himself with a yelp. His first instinct is that it's an attack, and he switches to Phantom and throws up a shield faster than thought, twisting around in the dark trying to find the source, trying to see who's coming for his throat next—

It's his phone. A text. That's all. No more, no less.

He changes back, not trusting his shaky hands with gloves on. It's from Jazz, asking where he's at. He calls her back, and she answers on the third ring.

"Hey, Danny," she says, relief audible in her voice. "Was there a ghost?"

"Uh-uh," he says. "Worse. Jazz, I—I need a favor."

"What was that? You broke up."

"Oh. Uh. Hang on." He drops hundreds and hundred of feet in free fall, watching the Ops Center racing up to meet him, all its floodlights swiveling round and round on automated patterns. He halts on a dime, far faster than any human could endure, and feels only an irritating tug on his bones as he swivels to find balance again. "Can you hear me now?"

"Yeah, that's better. What's up?"

He takes a deep breath. "I need a favor. A really, really big one."

#my writing #danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2020

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klonoadreams · 4 years

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Hey, quick question. What's everyone's sexualities? I know that Floyd is AT LEAST a disaster Bi, and I honestly think Lilia is Pansexual. That, and I also headcanon that Crowley is gay and is PROUD OF IT. He hired good looking men, and from the looks of things there is no female staff members. Some part of me thinks that's Crowley just hiring eye candy that can do their jobs effectively.

No one’s straight, that’s always a given when I write things out. Literally, that’s the first thing I always state when it comes to my fic. Don’t assume anyone’s straight unless I say so, and RARELY, I EVER say so.

Lilia’s hella pan, most definitely, just like Yuu (ewe). There are some aces amongst the group...just like Yuu. We’re all over the place.

You give a man the freedom to pick his staff at a mostly all boys academy (remember the exceptions there are to certain students, since you can’t ALWAYS predict how everything goes after the first day of their school lives), and he’s gonna go, “HMM, I WONDER - THIS MAN.”

But also, Sam seems to have had family before him that Lilia knows, so I’m assuming that Sam in particular has like...a position that’s based on lineage. Might be a bit too young for Crowley’s taste to pick him based on looks (I say this because Crowley’s age is ????? and it’s heavily hinted at that he’s a lot like Lilia in terms of how long he’s been around...to an extent), which makes it hilarious with how OFTEN Sam just straight up bamboozles Crowley out of money when he attempts to get the upper hand by making it so he CAN’T say “IN STOCK NOW”. Like, old man yells at cloud types of shenanigans.

I feel like Trein’s been around long enough, that Crowley at some point, might’ve tried hitting on him, but Trein’s all, “Not interested.” Seems more interested in caring for Lucius. Could be aro spec. He’s pretty content as he is.

Vargas might not even pick a label for himself (maybe one day, he’ll figure it out, but for now, he’s fine). He is who he is. That’s the type he strikes me as.

You try asking Crewel, and he’ll ask, “How dare you even talk to me.” He’s not straight, that’s for damn sure.

Amongst students, Ace is on team disaster bi with Floyd, though he’s more on the “I like girls” side. because GORLS. And because I CAN, he’s ace. Because I’m not funny.

You try asking Deuce, and he’ll just ??????? (give him a break, most girls avoided him in middle school, he’s never had a chance to figure out crushes yet, though he’s likely on team ace with Ace and Yuu)

#ask #twisted wonderland #counting sheep (fanfic)#headcanons

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marithlizard · 4 years

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I’ll admit it, what I really want out of a show is RWBY but focused more on the adults than the kids. Surely there's a market for that. Hey RT, you’ve already got Chibi, what about another side series at some point? You could reuse a ton of animation and models, the main plot’s already been worked out...

RWBY: Untold Stories

Everything that happens in this show has to dovetail with RWBY itself, but not be a repeat of an actual scene in the main show. Things that took place offscreen while a scene was going on are allowed.

There definitely needs to be a Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead reference at some point. But meta jokes stay minor, it’s not a comedy skit show like Chibi but a drama in its own right.

Scenes I can think of off the top of my head, just from v1:

Oz and Glynda debriefing. “That’s a scythe. And she looks quite a bit like her mother. Go ahead and start intimidating her, I’ll come in with the cookies after I send this email to Qrow. He has some explaining to do.”

“You’re letting the Arc boy skip the entrance exam? What are you up to?” “Just a feeling. Do make certain he’s signed all the waivers.”

A late night staff brainstorming session about team names.

Oobleck and Port correcting RWBYJNPR’s exams.

Roman bamboozling cops and mouthing off to Cinder via scroll.

Team CRDL’s conversation after the disaster in the forest.

Weiss adjusts to dorm life. The others help by explaining how good the student amenities at Beacon are, with special emphasis on what could be worse about the cafeteria food.

Sun Wukong, Master Stowaway.

A day in the life of the old shopkeeper, who turns out to be identical triplets making money hand over fist by running half the shops in the city.

General Ironwood tells Penny what he expects of her as they travel to Vale. Penny asks him what the kingdom is like, and we get a flashback story of student James visiting and fighting in the tournament against STRQ.

Okay, this is fun enough I might do more. What untold stories would you want to see?

#rwby #rwby spoilers

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late-to-the-fandom · 1 year

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Six Sentence Sunday

Thank you to @mikaharuka and @frostedlemonwriter for the double tags that allowed me to make this 12 sentence Sunday and also post part of my newest WIP, A Shadow UNIverse (because it’s a Uni. AU of Light and Shadows and I am just so clever 😊)

Tagging: @shipping-through-eternity @mousterian-writes @diaryofomellas @tananaphone @maidenwychelm @unknownogre

Oh, you must mean our resident Maw Walker!" exclaimed Theotar at Renathal's description when he came round in the afternoon to bring the staff tea. The short, jovial man enjoyed a reputation that outshone his stature: for knowing everything about everyone in the department, and for his unparalleled brew. Renathal raised an eyebrow. ”A Maw Walker?” It was the less-than-affectionate nickname given to students banished to the old campus housing. The tall, decrepit buildings loomed out of the concrete like jagged teeth around the desolate, natureless chasm lurking in the middle that was the old quad. The Maw, they called it. The new campus had warm tunnels and brightly lit covered walkways to ferry students to all the important school buildings without having to brave the elements. But those relegated to the older campus were forced to walk across the unprotected, ever-shadowed Maw to get anywhere they needed to go. It was the housing given to students and staff who couldn't afford anything else, and precious few of either came through Denathrius' department. "How did she get stuck in the Maw?" "Well, she is new, and presumably not well off," explained Theotar as he prepared Renathal's cuppa. "An exchange student from one of of those foreign places.” He gestured vaguely in no particular direction. "On a student visa, you know, so the only work she can get is with the school and I believe they put her up there at a reduced fee. She has helped in the kitchens several times, and I confess, I've grown most fond of her. She’s quite the tea aficionado, we’ve chatted about it for simply ages, and she does bamboozle with that sense of humour!” Renathal wondered if they were talking about the same person after all. “And how do you say her name?" “Oh, no one knows that,” Theotar tittered, tapping the spoon against the side of the cup with three delicate clinks. “She tried once to explain how to pronounce it, but … I’m afraid no one could quite grasp all its subtle nuances. So, the Maw Walker moniker stuck!”

#tag games #my writing #a shadow UNIverse #renathal x maw walker

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sukwhipp06-blog · 4 years

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neverendingsourceofmystery · 4 years

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Bamboozled | Cobert AU

Here is the Harry Potter and Cobert crossover that no one asked for. Originally an entry for the #Cobertweek2017 Day 1: Magic, now just a stupid one shot.

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She doesn’t really have much in the way of expectations, and she supposes that it’s just right. Sure she has hopes - those that have stubborn;y planted themselves inside her heart and blossomed inside her chest, despite her efforts to squash them - but she doesn’t really have any expectations. At least not for change, never for change.

From where she stands, there isn’t much that’s changed, neither is there anything new at all, and that doesn’t even come to her as a surprise. She has come to accept it, expect it even, had known it from the very start, long before she had boarded the ship that brought her to London, an ocean and a few thousand miles away from home.

The looks still get to her, because she knows they are still looking. The whispers and the murmurs still make her conscious, because they still whisper.

Different country, same problems.

She knows she is different though, knows as much and that he difference applies to both the world she’s always known and the world she has recently come to know. She’s neither special nor normal, and therein lies the difficulty. She’s half included in both worlds, and she knows that, knows she doesn’t belong here, and not there either.

Did her parents listen to her though? Of course not. Did they believe her when she’s said to them that a continent apart would not change the way that people like her are viewed? Definitely not. It certainly hadn’t for the ones before her, but did they listen? Did they hear her when she said she doesn’t belong here?

And although she’s hoped, oh how she has hoped, she’d always known that no, she does not.

Her parents had not considered what she had to say, had not even bothered to ask and had decided on her behalf instead. They had the money to make it happen, too, although she doesn’t think there’s much need for it. Things have been done and some rules have been bent to accommodate her parents’ request.

All her feelings had been set aside and ignored.

She breathes out a sigh as she looks up at the ceiling - that of which mimics the sky outside. It is dark and cloudy, no stars peppering the black sky and it seems like it will be raining some time soon. She knows it rains a lot here, she’s been properly briefed about the weather before she’d even left home.

She turns her attention from the ceiling to the doors. The students are now starting to gill the great hall, and there are hundreds of them, all in black robes, all chattering lively and excitedly. The buzz of many different conversations fill the din, and the staff are coming in with the students and are trying their best to bring back the peace and order. The ghosts, the likes of which are not new, but are entirely unfamiliar to her, are of no help as they float above freely, roaming as they welcome students, adding more to the noise.

She feels part indignation fill her as the first years start to file inside the hall. She really shouldn’t, she tells herself, and she knows it too. It’s hard not to be bitter though when she knows that they are all in the same position. All of their faces shine in equal parts excitement and fear, and she tries very hard to bite down at the dread she feels.

She should have been with them, she thinks, should have been delivered the same way they had been. The headmaster, bless him, thought it appropriate to let her come to the great hall with the little bit of dignity she could afford. He had insisted that she rode to the cancel the same way higher levels do. She is glad for the attempt to minimize the embarrassment, although she knows it to be futile.

It doesn’t matter really, she thinks as the Professor (Professor Mcgonagall, she remembers distinctly) starts to get the first year to line up. The professor had been the same one she’d had a conversation with in the Leaky Cauldron. She also knows the Head Master, Professor Dumbledore - she’d been introduced upon her arrival here.

Professor Mcgonagall had been pleasant enough, asking her what she’s learned so far and reassuring her that she will be able to catch up quickly, as the professor and her parents had discussed the terms of her transfer. It had contained a fair bit of confidential information and several cases of name calling and bullying to move schools for being who she is - a witch born from non magical parents.

“Levinson, Cora,” Mcgonnagall calls out her name and she looks up at the professor to find her holding up the hat they used to determine the house where a student belongs to. They don’t have such a hat in Ilvermorny, but they had other ways to sort out the students in the four houses: Wampus, Horned Serpent, Puckwudgie, and Thunderbird.

She had been a part of the Horned Serpent herself, before she’d transferred here at Hogwarts. She doesn’t have a clue where she will be placed here, although she does know the four houses (Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin). She isn’t sure what qualities best suit each house, but she does know one thing: she does not belong to Slytherin.

Come to think of it, she barely even belongs here.

“Ravenclaw,” the slightly battered hat yells to the crowd, and it is only then that Cora realizes how quiet it’s become since she has taken the stool.