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Chess isn’t always competitive. Chess can also be… beautiful. It was the board I noticed first. It’s an entire world of just 64 squares. I feel safe in it. I can control it. I can dominate it. And it’s predictable, so if I get hurt, I only have myself to blame.          Anya Taylor-Joy as Beth Harmon in THE QUEEN’S GAMBIT (2020)

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Constellation Headcanons

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The afternoon sun felt odd against the bleakness of the November weather. The café, a London’s streets remaining as busy as ever. She watched as she aimlessly sketched out shapes and shadows of the crowd that passed, changed and grew in size.  Big eyes scanning the crowd. A writer, Looking for some sort of inspiration... or subject to write the next story. A daily routine for Diana looked exactly like this, morning coffee untouched beside her now gone cold, a muggle sketchbook containing her most inner dark secrets open beside her, and a pencil in hand...  people watching. The irony of it all was, she hated social interaction, she refused to be seen, and yet she tried so hard to blend in the crowd when she knew she couldn’t. And yet here she was, an odd sight attempting to assimilate herself amongst a sea of passerbys.

 A cry of profanity disrupted her from her thoughts, and her eyes immediately darted through the direction it came from. Across her she watched, and immediately pulled in with keen interest. She observed the other, cursing on ends over what seemed to be  spilled coffee on his skin, ouch. The day had just begun and it was already starting off badly for him, double ouch. She began observing him further, and realized, he was not muggle. Normally, when one was a wizard, they just knew when the other was. Then began scanning around, perhaps, someplace to settle down and clean themselves up. It was then, they made eye contact. It was then she realized, that she didn’t know she was magic just like them. She immediately closed her sketchbook first before speaking to them, waving a hand dismissively.

 “Relax, I know English.” She chuckled silently. “And I’ve heard a whole lot worse, it’s not like the word ‘fuck’ is so bad compared with what the teenagers are saying now. .”

where – a Street. diagon alley/hogsmeade high street/somewhere in london/etc.  who – lee & open.

“Oh, that’s just what I needed,” grumbled Lee as he watched dark coffee spread over his T-shirt, wincing slightly at the heat. Today was a bad day. Well, it was a bad week, or months really, but today the world just seemed out to get him particularly. His coffee ( which he needed quite desperately ) spilling was just the cherry on top of a rather shitty milkshake. As the hot fluid seared his skin, he raised his voice as he cursed, “Morgana’s saggy tits.” And then, Lee was occupied attempting to hold the rest of his coffee with one hand, while scrambling for his wand to cast a drying charm. A few more cursewords slipped from his lips, a waterfall of profanity like, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He wished he had three hands. Or a thousand, perhaps, though that might look a little odd. Trying to see if there was a table or something around where he could place his coffee, he let his gaze fly up, and found himself making eye contact with someone who’d most definitely overheard him. “Aye, er - shit. Sorry, pardon my French.”

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kn00xx​:

open starter. her mother’s shop. diagon alley.

“Could you grab those over there, please?” Knox pointed to a crate of stored Gillyweed. It just arrived today and Knox was more than excited to study them after she closes up. “Oh and do be careful with them, you know my mother, she’ll have my head if we screwed this up.” Having help with the new arrivals was strictly against her mother’s wishes. Perhaps she was too proud or maybe she just didn’t want to be pitied by the people that turned against her. Knox had no clue but what choice did she have at this point? “We speak nothing of this, or else she’ll somehow hear about it— I swear she has ears of a werewolf.”

She blinks once, and a few times more at the odd request that sounded more like a demand. Gaze darting back and forth from the crate of Gillyweed to the girl asking her to hand it over. Probably not the strangest thing she’d been asked today, but Diana was hoping that she wouldn’t get any more attention as she’d been out. Not the sort of attention when people recognized her as Bathilda Bagshot’s great-grand daughter, but rather the hopes of an introvert wishing they’d owned an invisibility cloak. It was too late for that as it seems, 

The other girl had already caught her attention, and she continued to look over her for a few seconds. She recognized her, but unfortunately couldn’t put a face to her name. And yes, it normally took her this long to process words out of her mouth in front of strangers. She’s not truly as eloquent as she appears to be when she writes. 

“My lips are sealed.” She replied rather lamely to the girl as she handed her the crate, and now, she’s forced back to add a little something extra conversation. “Awful lot of those. Did someone order them or are they just for stocks?”

open starter. her mother’s shop. diagon alley.

“Could you grab those over there, please?” Knox pointed to a crate of stored Gillyweed. It just arrived today and Knox was more than excited to study them after she closes up. “Oh and do be careful with them, you know my mother, she’ll have my head if we screwed this up.” Having help with the new arrivals was strictly against her mother’s wishes. Perhaps she was too proud or maybe she just didn’t want to be pitied by the people that turned against her. Knox had no clue but what choice did she have at this point? “We speak nothing of this, or else she’ll somehow hear about it— I swear she has ears of a werewolf.”

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 " If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me -- Without my stir." 

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