#like u know those abysmal name spellings

[lunarrosette]

Hey guys have we considered normaleigh for the spelling of normals full first name

[misterbitches]

i live in a universe where if i were to walk down the street i could get murdered willy nilly cos im black but men are out here going around being like “my boyfriend and i met when he was a junior in high school” i don’t believe in jail and i try not to make jail jokes but HOW IS THAT FAIR? JAIL!!! GUILLOTINE!!!! GET THIS MAN A RETIREMENT FUND AND A THERAPIST

that dialogue was fucking embarrassing. he shoulda just said “im 12 yrs older than him” no one needs to know u were 30 dating a 17 year old u insecure freak. retire bitch and get away from her

 i wanted muren so badly to be like “LMAO SRY didnt mean to seem surprised i just like men my own age i guess?” i wouldnt have even apologized if i was surprised. my friend was dating someone ten yrs younger than him and i made fun of him for it and he was like “i know” bc he does know.

just a tip: i don’t like getting hit on by men way older than me, a lot of people don’t. i’ve had men who are 36 interested in me when i was 23, and i reciprocated, but now as i am 29 and older i realize how much it confused me and how i didn’t like it.

age gaps are what they are. ther’es many times i do not like it especially if it is a pattern (this is what happens in tv shows and movies and the opposite of that isn’t gay age gaps or power imbalances or women much older than a younger man ok that’s not progress it’s just peopl ewanting to be like cis men and no one wants that) and esp if the person’s peers are all their ages. people seem to forget that we travel in the same social circles on purpose due to our environments and also our world experiences. the only way to meet an older man is outside of school and yet adults can’t seem to control themselves?

i saw this person who was one of the editors of sexual hegemony (a book on capitalism and homophobic laws and sex basically idk google it it’s interesting) and he was trying to have a foucultian outlook (i hate focault btw doesn’t mean what he says wasnt interesting but it does mean i am not okay with psychosexual philosophers who take advantage of people. the only testament against him having reltaions with younger people is a bunch of young people i nfucking tunisia and there’s an excuse that he wasn’t a fucking pedophile he was those ebebebbeopopopo people and it doesnt matter when ur in fucking tunisia as a white french algerian fucking preying on children) how age of consent laws desexualize younger people. they were passed for  abunch of reasons like any law but here is the thing

we have no business in being in spaces to determine children’s sexual identity and teenagers in their own realm. THEY need to figure it out. our job as adults is to PROTECT THEM full stop. not intrude on their lfe and not give them the tools to decide for themselves. age of consent laws are meant to protect not to facilitate children against some boogeyman of sex. the issue is the way our society views it but young people are sexual AS YOUNG PEOPLE. it has NOTHING to do with adults and it shouldn’t. that’s why it is extra fucking intrusive when you are literally wedged into someone’s life who you have no business being around. it’s only by fucking circumstance. it’s abysmal and not cute. 

what this tells me is that the age gap is salacious. not in the way that i was 23 and a man was 36. in the way that he was 17 and this dude was 29. that’s interesting right? it’s “oooh” and it means we shouldn’t balk at it. saying 12 years would have sufficed, raises some eyebrows, and we can figure out the dynamics after but you just had to put that in BECAUSE YOU FUCKING LIKE IT but the thing is there’s no part of it that was fun. i’m just going to assume you like fucking teenagers bc that’s what it’s telling me lmao

i rarely talk about this couple but to put them in my eyeballs and then have that stupid conversation it was insulting lmao god please get a fucking script supervisor fuck but none of them care about sotry or any of what i fucking laid out. how stupid and careless and just unfun. i don’t like it. also ew at the idea of 2 tops and 2 bottoms talking oh my god i am gonna give myself a heart attack i’m already so fucking anxious i have to see my family lemme chill

im 29 and feel bad having a crush on a 23 year old CELEBRITY ok and i SHOULD feel ashamed and it’s not even a big deal that’s how everyone should approach life tbqh u walk around like ur 100 yrs old to avoid children. oh what’s that this korean cebrity learned english and moved to america to start a family with me and i find him very hot and i like his voice but we’re 6 years apart i’m not sure if i would work (how fun of a drama would that be. pointless and ridiculous. i love it.)

oh there’s a great review on CMBYN and its history and how the isolation and seeclusion was so fuckign capitalist bougie patriarchy and yea idk if anyone is interested. i think it’s ironic the ending for the people in CMBYN irl bc it’s just. so indicative of this shit. i dont like guadignino (idk is that how u spell his name) and think he’s not a great....person or director (i love the look of suspiria tho likke visually and edited. the DP was thai btw! he did an amazing job!!!) but it critiques this film from a perspective of someone who clearly at least cares about artistry, no matter how poorly i think he executes it, and just how hollow it is. the thing about “escapism” is that it relies on the harsh realities of the world to make it opposite, everything has context, nothing is apolitical. to make something that exists in a vacuum is negligent and it doesn’t help you escape it makes you even more tied to this world and its flaws because it doesn’t do anything to mitigate it.

people view it as like “we can put something stupid on screen and people have to accept it in this world” but that isn’t how IT WORKS. you hvae to build up the stakes of the world. but i can’t see introducing some “taboo” (see: stupid) elements and pretending the escapism is seeing this and allowing it. how could it be when the problem is the nature of the rship itself? what world are you taking us to? and why does this world ignore the pressing realities? and i wouldnt say either of these are explicit escapism (i think i hate that word now) becuase um they arent. this fantastical generally rich people escapism isn’t about bending things that don’t work to mold it into our society because WE DO THAT ALREADY it’s about taking those things and twisting them to something we can accept and like or something that has real consequences for people. it’s so funny how marketing and the idea of pc culture and shit and conservative ideology seeps into these. they have  an explicit interest in holding the status quou of taking advantage of people and using their power; age is a huge structure to do so. in this society when we struggle why would its existence not be challenged? because rape, ridiculous rships, abusive rships, torture etc is a power move, conservatives rest on it and people who gain power. what about that is appealing? making it gay? well, no. especially because men DO have power. 

every fucking thing in BL is a reflection of of patriarchy honestly. i can admit that and i’m not okay with it but it’s consumption. there’s a way to make this decent or entertaining without it being so fucking poorly done. and atp i dont even want to call things bl it’s a tv show just bc it’s for a certain audience doesnt mean anything do better idiots

[thegildedkelpie]

- P R O L O G U E -

Rating: Young Adult

Warnings: Sexual assault, gore, various distressing themes

Summary: Humans have a lot of names for the Veil; the Other Side, the Great Beyond, the Heavens or the Hells, Limbo, Purgatory. The Norse had Niflheim and Alfheim, the Gaelic and the Welsh had  Tír na nÓg and Annwn. Nowadays, the slang is simply Veilside. Easy, quick, and it doesn’t come heavy with cultural ties.

Severed has lived with one foot Veilside and the other foot Humanside for as long as he could remember. He works and lives in an abysmal halfway place, a pocket dimension powered by brutal, messy magic, slaving away in a slaughterhouse to pay off a debt.

Niamh stepped unwittingly Veilside in high school, cutting his life abruptly short and ruining what remained. He works in a gilded cage, a beautiful, famous brothel, until one day he gets out.

When Severed lets Niamh crash on his couch, the precarious balance he’s managed to keep up begins to tilt.

┕━━━�� ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

“What is your name?” the nurse asked. She was wearing plain white from her head to her ankles; an apron over her dress, socks that hid the skin of her legs. Her shoes shone black.

Niamh stared at her, fingers tangled in the sheets of the bed he didn't remember waking up in. There was a horrible, sugary, bile-heavy taste stuck in his throat and his head felt heavy. “Where am I?”

She smiled. “The Gardens, of course.” She said it precisely, like a title. “What is your name?”

“What's the gardens?” he asked warily, looking down at himself. He had been in a hoodie and skinny jeans, but someone had stripped those off and replaced them with what seemed to be a pale cream gown. He pulled his legs up. A pang of nausea hit as his bare legs beneath – bare everything – brushed the fabric. “Where am I?”

“There is nothing to be frightened of,” she said kindly, setting a hand on his shoulder. She had pointed ears like he did, but the face was wrong. She was not like him. Even with barely any time veilside, he could tell. “Everything will be explained in time. Please tell me your name so that we can start the paperwork.”

“Is this a hospital?” he asked. Maybe he’d gotten sick, or passed out somewhere. The last thing he remembered were vodka shots and thumping music at a club he shouldn’t have even been at. He looked at her chest, at her simple, dated dress and white coat, but there was no name tag or ID badge. Purple, bell shaped flowers were embroidered on the cuffs of the white coat and the rounded collar of her dress, small pops of color.

She nodded, looking pleased. “We're here to make sure you're healthy. Now, your name?”

He stared at her and finally said, “Niamh?”

The nurse made a pleased noise and started scribbling on the clipboard. Unlike the humans he was used to, she did not ask him to spell it out for her. “Middle and last names?”

He ignored her. “How...how did I get here?” He leaned forward, heart pounding. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be able to walk into the front door of his house in Las Vegas instead of being forbidden from entry, or for his parents to look at him instead through him. The Veil had been fun until it wasn’t, the magic amazing until it had become frightening. “I don't remember anything but a party.”

She didn't look up from her clipboard. “We had to sedate you. You were getting sick all over the place.”

“Sick? From the party?”

Nothing but the scratch of a pen answered him. After a long moment of scribbling on the clipboard, she looked at him. Her smile had not changed in the slightest. “I'll be right back with your paperwork, alright?”

“Okay.” It was discharge papers, he bet. She would bring him his discharge papers, his vomited on clothes, and he would leave. The faeries he'd been travelling with would probably be waiting in the front lobby of the hospital, ready to laugh at him and slap him on the back and drag him off to another wild party, another few nights of trying to forget what he had given up when he’d made the choice to cross the Lines.

He watched her go because there was nothing else to do.

After a few moments, the door opened and he got a glimpse of high white walls and decorative moulding, gleaming mirrors and paintings in gold frames, before the door shut behind the nurse. She had a slip of cream paper in her hand and a pen.

She held it out to him. “Please sign this.”

He took it, expecting a discharge paper, but it was thicker than he expected and soft to the touch. The letters were incredibly small and the font was blocky and hard to read. The title was illuminated, colourful, and gilded, a green leafed plants climbing up the side margins to border the text, bell shaped purple flowers and black berries hanging between paragraphs. “What is this?”

“Your contract.”

“Discharge papers?” he asked. His head pounded but there was no music.

“Contract,” she corrected. “Please sign it so we can move you on out of here.”

“Am I going home?” he asked, but he had no home. Not now. Not anymore.

“You're already home,” the nurse said.

Niamh shook his head, stomach twisting. He teetered to his feet. The floor pulled him down and he stumbled, the nurse catching his arm. “I'm going.”

“Going where? There's nowhere to go until you sign,” she laughed.

The faeries had warned him never to sign a contract, never to trust a person with a hidden name, to avoid unmarked vans and unclear signage, swamps and bridled horses and will o' wisps, people with sprigs of rowan or ash pinned to their breasts, to not be swayed by the glamour of high courts or old money or the shiny, neon lights of the new money.

“What’s your name?” he asked dizzily.

“Tint,” she said smoothly. She couldn't lie, he knew, but she could obfuscate, tell him a nickname with no power or identification.

“Where are my friends?” He pulled away from her and found it difficult to remain upright. The room spun around him.

“I wouldn't know, you arrived here alone. I promise there are new friends here that you just haven't met yet.”

He looked around. The room was nondescript and plain but there were details he hadn't noticed before. The counters were white, the walls were white, the floor was checkerboard white and black marble tiles, and there was a strange stain in one white tile, rusty and shimmery and pale. Would the door be locked? Would he make it if it wasn't and he ran? “I prefer my old ones.”

“But everyone likes new friends, don't they?” Her head tilted to the side. “Please sit down, Niamh. You are dizzy.”

His stomach was sinking lower, lower. “Did you give me something?” he asked and realized at the same time.

“No,” she said, touching his elbow. He tried to stumble away from her. “You were unconscious when you arrived.”

He looked down at his inner arms. In the crook of one elbow was a little red dot – needle mark. He wasn't strong, always coughing and catching colds and bleeding all over his homework from his nose, but he was quick. He darted for the door and was out of the miraculously unlocked entryway before the nurse could grab him. The hall had high, vaulted ceilings, doors on one side and windows into a courtyard patio on the other, buttery sunlight pouring in. Another nurse was pushing a tea tray down the hall and she stared at him, mouth open.

“Are you lost?” she asked, but he was attempting to sprint down the hall before she finished. His vision spiralled, sending him skidding, knocking into the wall to stay upright. The gown had a back, which spared him some humiliation of running down a hall with his ass exposed to the world. It was a small comfort, but something nonetheless.

He had always been quick, pressured to join track team year after year despite his coughing fits, and the nurse was not fast enough to catch him. The double doors at the end of the hall swung open when he threw himself into them.

The air was not cold but it wasn’t warm, either. The sun was bright but not as blinding as it should have been. It was as if the weather was so mild that there was no weather at all.

Scattered across the patio extending into the green courtyard were tables, and other people in gowns stared at him, plates of sweets and pots of tea in front of them. A few laughed and pointed, snickering behind their hands.

“Niamh, get back here!” the nurse called, beetle-black penny loafers clacking on the marble floor, closer, closer.

He stumbled down the steps, darting around the placid people at patio tables, but the courtyard was surrounded on all sides with the grand building, a beautifully arranged cage.

His nurse had gained an ally in the nurse who was pushing the tea cart, and they hurried towards him together. Niamh, facing nowhere to go, splashed into the nearest fountain and scrambled up the tiered pools until he was crouched at the top, soaked from the waist down in freezing, mossy water.

“Get away from me,” Niamh shouted down at them.

“Niamh, please come down of your own volition or we will be forced to remove you,” his nurse called to him.

“Don't we have enough twinks?” an attractive man in a pale blue gown asked loudly, pouring himself another cup of tea. He had one black eye and a split lip. His companion, skin dusted mauve, muttered at him, kicking him under the table.

Niamh was not magic the way the other faeries were. He had only intent, but no real action, and therefore the nurses were not compelled when he said loudly, “Stay away.”

His nurse glared at him. “You will come down or we will have someone take you down.”

“Hey kid, just come down!” another person in a gown called from a table farther away. They had an IV pole connected to their arm and gently curling horns. They were so delicately pretty he couldn't tell if they were a boy or a girl. “You're ruining breakfast. God knows that's the only good thing about this fucking hospice!”

Both nurses spared the person a hard look.

His heart hammered. The walls looked too high to climb, but could he try? “Where am I?”

His nurse, Tint, managed to sound patient when she said, “I told you, Niamh. You are in the Gardens. You need to sign your contract.”

“What's the Gardens?” he called down, fingers digging into the stone. He felt like he was a container filled with liquid, and the liquid was sloshing against the cracking walls. It was only a matter of time before something gave, either his stomach or his consciousness.

Tint put her hands on her hips as the other nurse went to a man in black body armour standing watch by the double doors and started talking to him inaudibly, pointing up at him. The man leaned his head down and talked into a walkie strapped to his chest. “Your new home and place of employment,” she said sternly, as the man began approaching.

“I don't want a job,” he said, but felt like it wasn't employment he was being offered. “I'm in high school.”

“You will be given the opportunity to finish your education here. We rescued you from the streets. By all means, if you would rather live in squalor until someone comes to take advantage of you, we can make arrangements, but first you need to come down here and get out of the fountain.” She glared up at him.

Niamh shook his head. “I would rather leave. I don't want to be here and I won't get out of the fountain.”

She stepped closer to the edge of the fountain, hands on her hips and eyes hard. “We want what is best for you, Niamh. That's why you're here. We know you're a changeling. The choice is always hard, and we are happy that you have decided to live life as you actually are. But Niamh,” her voice gentled when he gripped the wet, mossy artichoke decoration at the top of the fountain tighter. “Where will you go when we drop you off at the bar we found you at, passed out and covered in vomit, danced half to death? You don't know the laws, the culture, the language. Your friends wanted something to drag around, not someone to look after. We will look after you here, I promise.”

Some of the people at the tables were nodding along with her. Others had their eyes glued to the tables in front of them.

“I can look after myself,” he shouted down, throwing handful of algae. “I didn't drink that much!” It was half true. He had paced himself carefully but still couldn't remember the night.

Tint sighed, voice lowering. “Get him down.”

The guard approached the fountain, pulling out some sort of cylindrical tool. Niamh had classmates with allergies, at his high school, and the thing looked like an epi-pen. Somehow, he didn’t think it was wielded to save lives.

“Come on, kid, don't make this hard. Everyone else is just trying to enjoy their breakfasts.” He had a soft accent, something hard to place. Everyone on this side had an accent, though, and it was futile to try and place it. The languages spoken were countless, here, and all unfamiliar.

He clung to the artichoke. If he passed out, maybe he would fall and be too hurt for whatever they wanted of him. “You're the one making it hard.”

“That's what she said!” crowed someone from the tables. There was scattered, half hearted chuckles. People sipped their tea and watched placidly. He watched a scattering of them shake their heads and get up, retreating into the building.

The guard, whose nameplate read Duergar, sloshed into the fountain and waded for the centre. “Get down here before you get hurt,” he said, clambering into the first platform pool.

“No,” he hissed, standing slowly. He teetered on the edge, but there was nowhere higher to climb.

“Sit down!” The nurses both yelled.

“Get down here, you little shit,” Duergar the guard who was not very fast or good at climbing, ground out through his teeth, which were sharp. He climbed, sopping, into the second platform pool. Niamh was almost within his reach.

When Duergar's fingers poked over the edge to pull himself up, Niamh slammed his heel down onto them. Duergar yelped and the crowd down below cheered, clapping. Duergar grabbed his ankle and Niamh swayed. “You're going to get yourself hurt!”

“ You're hurting me,” he snapped, shaking his leg so violently the rest of him tried to topple the other way. He scrambled to hold on to the artichoke. The algae slipped beneath his hands, forcing his nails to bite into the stone beneath.

“I hate changelings,” Duergar muttered, yanking on his ankle. “Sit down before you fall off of this thing and crack open your head.”

Below, people were talking. He heard what is happening? and someone replied the new guy wants to go home. The reply was too quiet to hear, a murmur that felt like pity.

Niamh yanked his ankle back, harder, but he was not strong and this was not something he could run from. He said, half true, “I'll curse you if you don't let go.”

Duergar hesitated. “If you curse me I'll make sure you'll regret it,” he threatened, pulling on his leg.

“Doesn't mean you won't be cursed,” he hissed, panicked as he dug his nails down to avoid being dragged. A second hard yank made him let go. A third made him go careening over the edge only to be caught under one of Duergar's broad arms. He kicked and bit and scratched but was still brought down, landing with a splash into the water. He pushed onto his hands, sputtering.

“Little shit,” Duergar huffed.

Niamh glared up at him. He could see his pores widen into pox, his hair turn to straw. “I hope you rot.”

Duergar knotted fat, meaty fingers in Niamh's hair and shoved him under the water. Niamh struggled against him, panicking, but Duergar was stronger. He tried to pry his gloved fingers from his hair but couldn't.

He held his breath as long as he could, but the guard did not let go. In all his struggling, his mouth opened and water rushed down his throat, mossy and cold. Panic followed the water into his lungs, settling into each delicate bronchiole.

His heart kicked up another impossible notch and he tried to get leverage with his knees. They dug hard into the algae until they scraped, bleeding, on the stone bottom of the fountain and he attempted to heave himself upwards. Duergar's grip did not budge and Niamh was left in the cold, rushing dark, watching bubbles and bits of green float past his eyes

Duergar heaved him up before his blurring vision went black. He clutched at the mossy edge of the pool, the world spinning, and coughed up lungfuls of water until he was gagging, vomiting up bile into the water. Duergar made a disgusted noise.

The spectators were not laughing, anymore, but they didn't look surprised or concerned either.

“Still cursed,” he wheezed, heart pounding, terrified, in his chest.

His hand pulled on his hair and Niamh gasped, fingers tearing at Duergar's,  but Tint shouted “Enough!” before he could shove him under again. “Bring him down. He needs to sign his contract before we can perform a medical examination.”

Niamh tried to step over the side when he was pulled, stumbling instead, skidding across marble through the gown. “I won't sign,” he said again.

But he would sign, and back in the examination room he did sign. He wrote his name – first, middle, last – wherever prompted. Duergar lingered by the door as Tint left, carrying the paper contract with her. A doctor replaced her, a gold robed man following behind him, eyes tattooed on his hands, who stood in the corner and watched.

The doctor peeled off the gown and Niamh let him because there was nothing he could do to stop it. He jabbed and prodded and fondled at his body, took his weight and his height, looked into his mouth and his ears and his eyes. His ribs were painstakingly counted, each joint bent. He did a vision test, a hearing test, and took his blood. At the end of the examination, when his medical form was completed, the gold robed man held his jaw in his hands and stared at him for far too long before nodding and finally leaving, the doctor trailing behind.

Duergar dragged him out of the room and down the hall and into an elevator. It was a complicated series of elevators and stairs and turns until he was being shoved into what looked like a dorm room. Niamh had expected to be left alone, but Duergar came in, too, shutting the door behind him.

His hands went to his belt and Niamh, resisting the same way he had in the fountain, went to the bed.

His first impression was that he was going to be beaten with a belt like some of the parents in his shitty neighborhood had done to their kids, but the belt hit the ground, forgotten. Duergar's fingers unbuttoned his pants, pulling down his zipper, and Niamh curled his knees closer to himself.

[catubarca]

Harry Potter Next Generation Headcanons

im bored. im full of emotions, and am rly missing the HP world... i just want to write down my headcannons for the next gen kiddos tbh.

please remember these are just my opinions? its okay if yours are different. im just bored and want to share my thoughts,,

Teddy Lupin

his name is Theodore Remus “Teddy” Lupin. it’s just what it is

I don’t care what JKR says, to me his name will always be Theodore

i can’t do this “Edward” stuff im so sorry,,,

h u f f l e p u f f

proper school uniform? never heard of it

messy hair, messy clothes

punk rock child

we’re talking like,,,at least two (2) lip piercings ok

absolutely terrible in herbology. do not leave this child alone in a greenhouse, bad things happen

fuckin hoards chocolate

its a problem

dating Victorie Weasley

random bursts of dancing

keeps a lock of hair pink for his mother

lives with the Potters, enjoys pretending to be Ginny to ground his siblings

“Lily, why aren’t you coming out of your room? Dinner’s ready?” “You said I’m grounded! You tell me!” “What? Oh, for the- THEODORE REMUS LUPIN-“

s m i r k s

effortlessly cool,,, but so so dorky,,, in a cool way

Victorie Weasley

ravenclaw!

looks a lot like her mother, Fleur, but inherited those Weasley freckles

a little confused a lot of the time

absolute sweet tooth (teddy abuses this fact a lot)

Mom Friend™

will help you with your homework

always got a book on her

super beautiful and like,,,, the absolute nicest person,,, but

cannot dance

like at all

adores Charms class

a softie you don’t want to cross

“I’m the oldest”

Dominique Weasley

inherited the Classic Weasley Red Hair™

idolises her Uncle Charlie

“I wanna save animals and work with cool dragons, just like Uncle Charlie does!”

Bill almost has a heart attack

always bringing stray animals home

(“is that a lizard in your pocket, Dominique?” “Yes! His name is Blob.” “You know how your father’s afraid of reptiles, sweetheart, you can’t bring it inside.”)

Gryffindor child

favourite class is definitely Care of Magical Creatures, she and Hagrid like to talk about proper care methods for rare creatures

perpetual dirt stains

BIG middle child vibes

doesn’t really label her sexuality… just kinda does what she wants rly

all the pets in Hogwarts love her

rumours are she’s got an innate, natural magical ability to make them all love her

(she feeds them under the table)

it’s a mystery

big advocate for animal rights

f e m i n i s t

willing to throw hands at all times

usually all smiles though

one of those people who use their whole bodies to laugh

kind of an accidental heartthrob

romcoms

Louis Weasley

looks the most like his mother

ravenclaw

absolutely filled with curiosity. always reading or talking or learning

random facts

(how do you even find that sort of information?

you don’t want to know)

coffee boy

sort of musically talented?

he and James Sirius preach the importance of skincare to all who will listen

secretly full of sass and dry wit

vry graceful and fluid

e y e r o l l

awkward smiles? can never smile properly in photos

on the ravenclaw quidditch team

Ravenclaw Prefect

(“You might be older, but I’m taller.” “Fuck off!”)

only watches High Quality™ tv shows/media

kind of a disaster, despite the gracefulness

Molly Weasley

Classic red hair

comes across as a bit uptight, like her father

I don’t care what you think. (She really cares what you think.)

E y e b r o w s

death glares

drinks like 5 cups of coffee in the morning

studies,,, like a lot

definitely a Gryffindor though

mom jeans

always ready to debate a topic. will destroy opponents.

has been trying to start a successful Debate Club for like 4 years now

naturally falls into the position of a group leader

would be a teacher’s pet, if she wasn’t ready At All Times™ to debate the relevancy of the course syllabus or outdated teaching methods

got into a fight with Severus Snape’s portrait in Headmistress McGonagall’s office.

(Dumbledore’s portrait was laughing, until she turned and ragged on him for a bit. Minerva thought it was absolutely hilarious, so she just let Molly go at it for a while).

full of rage towards everything, but wears a very careful mask of aloofness

to calm down, she likes painting her nails

she’s very good at it

she’s also very good at painting and art in general, weirdly enough

Lucy Weasley

G R Y F F I N D O R

adores shitty puns and has a terrible sense of humour

brown hair, not red

loves to prank people, which makes her Uncle George very proud

Percy complains about her behaviour, but makes sure he knows he’s proud too

(charming all the cauldrons in the potions classroom to scream whenever they’re stirred takes a more complex understanding of spell work than one would expect).

a pit of a punk streak

rly loves hip hop

high key drama queen

does she ever stop yelling? we’re yet to find out

average grades in terms of theory, but she’s the best in terms of applying information

especially for her pranks

has allies throughout the castle, from the portraits to the students

the bigger the prank, the better

but is a firm believer in “confuse, don’t abuse”

all her pranks are mostly harmless

is a surprising lover of older literature, like Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, an influence of her sister

a bit rebellious

Fred Weasley II

name isn’t officially “the second”, but it sounds cooler

James Potter, Lucy Weasley, Molly Weasley and Fred Weasley are like the Marauders 2.0

says “squad” and “lit” unironically

niche humour

hipster vibes

avid music lover

smiley sunshine child

takes after his mother the most in looks, just like his sister

a chill type of gryffindor

plays quidditch, and is an excellent chaser, just like his mother

the absolute undisputed King™ of puppy-dog eyes

just,,,, beautiful

the True teacher’s pet

hands in his work on time,, asks lots of questions,,, likes helping students understand their work,, what a boy

can hella nyoom

runs so fast

look at him go

as you might expect, loves a good prank. always down for a laugh

Roxanne Weasley

Gryffindor and pROUD

absolute Queen tbh

was definitely Head Prefect or Gryffindor Prefect at some point

loved by the school

absolute legend

G I R L   P O W E R

infectious laughter

has a soft spot for Louis Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy

these poor disaster children,,,, they need a Mother

M O M

big mom vibes

mothers the hell out of all the first years

a feminist through and through

can be found nodding aggressively to Molly Weasley’s semi-deranged, furious ranting

YAAAASS

loves slang. uses so much slang. always up to date with trends and memes

has all the gossip

becomes a mess around pretty girls

absolute blushing, stuttering disaster around cute girls oh my god

her eye make-up game is killer

sparkly

Distinguished Lesbian

Rosie Weasley

did someone say Weasley™?

red hair and freckles and curls oh my

on the autism spectrum, has trouble socialising sometimes

hella passionate about stuff

hangs out with Scorpius and Albus, the Golden Trio 2.0

f em ini st

her jokes are the best. high quality sense of humour.

Ravenclaw

likes to read. it’s quiet in the school library, which is nice.

abysmal at herbology

surprisingly good at Care of Magical Creatures though? Animals are just,,, so much easier to deal with

overall, really good grades though

bit of a silent type, but she’s actually a riot to hang out with

actually pretty good at quidditch? She’s not on the team, and she’s not super interested in playing, but?? She’s not bad??

She can land a solid hit with a beater’s bat

(eyes you judgementally over the top of a book)

dry wit humour

will throw hands over chess

Hugo Weasley

hufflepuff

unbeatable at chess, like his dad

a lost puppy

someone please help this child

softie

kind of low-key emotional

so supportive!! and loyal!! high-key best friend material

foodie. loves food. please feed him.

takes a bit more after his dad appearance wise

loves to cook. spends lots of time with grandma Molly and his dad in the kitchen

Professor Longbottom is his favourite professor, because he’s more chilled and laidback.

other professors and classes fill him with Distress™

loves astronomy too

maths whizz, so good at arithmancy

(“uh, actually-“)

a little bossy, like his mother

is trying so hard

maybe a little too hard

a bit insecure and nervous, but so soft

please treat this child carefully and with love

James Sirius Potter

Gryffindor

L O U D

a fucking disaster child

what’d you expect, putting “James” and “Sirius” together?

DRAMATIC GASPING

flails his hands around when he talks

s t r u t s

bisexual mess, had a crush on both the Longbottom children at some point

is better than you at everything

including being a different gender

fuck you that’s why

so pretty

he’s so pretty

is thIS CHILD EVER NOT LAUGHING AT SOMETHING OH My god

laughs at everything

all the time

always

high-key emotional

badly timed finger guns

looks like a model in photos? wtf?

gets invited to Girls Nights™

wears nail polish and makeup

loves to yell at people about gender roles and defying stereotypes

TEA SIS

not on the quidditch team surprisingly enough, even though he’s pretty good

prefers to be in the stands, doing A+ commentary on the games

if he can get Fred to stop mid-air due to unbearable, suffocating laughter at least once a game it’s a win in his books

has it OUT for the hufflepuff quidditch team and no one knows why??

definitely makes puns on his name

it drives everyone insane

harry always replies he’s just making his namesake proud

that also drives everyone insane

smug lil shit

Albus Severus Potter

“It’s just Al.”

S L Y T H E R I N

will always find a way to get what he wants, eventually

“dad, why did you name me this way?”

unimpressed

sigh

hella smart. is topping at least five classes

Aunt Hermione is his favourite. She’s the fucking Mistress of Magic! All that power, the ability to make change and improve the Magical World as a whole-

sass master

the reason headmistress mcgonagall keeps a bottle of scotch under her desk at all times

the only potter child to inherit The Eyes™

absolute insomniac

kind of emo, but turns into a fucking softie around Scorpius Malfoy it’s hilarious

adverse to violence. prefers a verbal beatdown method

really tall? despite having shorties for parents??? no one saw it coming

(especially not Teddy. He’s always scared of losing his last few inches of height)

Functional Gay

he’s on the slytherin quidditch team, as a seeker

Lily Luna Potter

Gryffindor

FEMINIST

do not mess with lily luna potter

she may seem cute and sweet, but she will destroy you

inherited her father’s black hair

disaster lesbian

transfiguration is her favourite subject, by far

has no idea what she wants to do with the rest of her life.

Existential Crisis Father-Daughter Bonding Time™

do you ever sleep?

takes after Ginny the most in personality

also, kind of the most like James Fleamont Potter in personality, too?

Loves to help her brother out with pranks, laughs at him when he gets caught and she gets away with it

The only one of the Potter Children who hasn’t got into a fight with Severus Snape’s portrait

because she just ignores him instead

loves talking to the portraits around the castle

Super good at Quidditch, is on the team as a Chaser

Quidditch Captain at some point

adores Hagrid, but who out of the Potter children doesn’t?

Idolises Minerva McGonagall

just as oblivious as her father

Scorpius Malfoy

Actually in Ravenclaw, not Slytherin, much to many people’s surprise

abSOLUTE DADDY’S BOY

super close with his dad

Draco is just so supportive of like everything he does (unlike his father)

classic blonde malfoy looks

actually really funny?

a cuddler. loves hugs. always leeching warmth off of someone

he and Rosie sometimes finger-tip-touch which is their version of a hug, because he know’s she’s not super comfortable with touch

was basically adopted by the Weasley’s and Potter’s

James Sirius will murder for this child

booknerd, always rambling to Al and Rosie about new books coming out he’s interested in reading.

has had a crush on Albus Potter since like 1st year

always worried about making his dad proud, and keeping up the Malfoy name

sweet tooth

he’s just,, soft. just a warm, happy child. he wants love, and affection. someone tell him he’s doing okay, please.

needs,,, validation,,,

he’ll tell you out loud that he has no favourite aunts or uncles, but he secretly really likes spending time with his Uncle Ron

they had a talk, once, in like the middle of the night at a sleepover with Rosie and Al, about feeling insecure in comparison to others, and learning to be proud of yourself for your achievements

there were a few tears, but it was nice

Ron was actually the third person he told, besides his dad and Rosie, about having a crush on Al

openly a disaster romantic. trash taste in romance novels.

always welcome in the Potter-Weasley households