#rowena + class

[shallowseeker]

Rowena & Crowley back the wrong horse, over and over and over...

Everyone remembers Rowena's tragic clinging to Lucifer in season 11, and how it ended up for her. Upon learning she's the only one that can put him back in the cage, Lucifer pragmatically snaps her neck--a form of cold, indifferent insurance:

Ah, the tragedy of Rowena's desire to have security. Rowena wanted to be loved and protected by Fergus's father. She wanted to be appreciated and protected by Lucifer.

Crowley remarks that she's always looking for the biggest, baddest beast in the room to hide behind.

///

In 11x23 Alpha and Omega, we see Rowena cozying up to her newest target, Chuck:

ROWENA: [Crowley mocks her as she speaks] Charles, I'll put the kettle on. My mom always said, there's nothing a nice wee cup of tea can't fix.

...

CROWLEY: It's what she does. Find someone with power...cozies up...digs the claws in. [As he’s talking, Crowley walks over to a cabinet, opens a door and takes out a bottle of Craig] CHUCK: Hmm. Yeah, well, I'm not helping anyone right now, obviously. She's been...nice. CROWLEY: For now.

Funny sidenote: As Rowena moves in on Chuck, getting sweet on him, she starts calling him "Charles," a little nugget for how she'll later call Sam "Samuel," and Cas, "Hello, Castiel."

///

Ahem. Anyway. The thing is, that yes, Rowena totally does this. We can't really blame her when we look at the tragic happenstances of her life. During the course of the series, we see her make numerous moves to gain favor will powerful beings:

SEASON 10

We see her volleying to make Crowley sit upon a stronger, more secure throne.

SEASON 11

We see her cozying up to Lucifer and getting killed for her trouble.

Next, we see her coming back from the dead to move in on Amara.

She's kind of playing both sides, but she gets sweet on Amara here: "Oh, I can be useful...And even if it is born out of my own self-interest, I-- I care about you. I'm someone you can talk with. Confide in. Have you... have you ever had that? Oh, you don't have to be (alone), darlin'!" 

Then, as I mentioned above, she cozies up to Chuck, and Crowley snarls many a nasty word about her.

SEASON 12

We find Rowena trying to date rich men and lying about her background, painting herself as a posh, well-to-do ballerina.

In an abrupt about-face to insulting Cas (she called him a fish in season 10), we see that Rowena has flipped on her appraisal of him.

Now, Castiel is super hot. He's "the handsome, strong angel," an ideal partner/protector. So, she hits on him. A lot.

Despite her memory of "Cas's face" as Lucifer snapped her neck, her dogged attraction to Cas blooms sometime in season 12.

Perhaps, it's when she and Cas and Fergus are hunting Lucifer together.

(In the same time frame, Crowley is also hanging off Cas's arm, keeping him company, trying to be oddly "cutesy," singing in the car, etc. It's...hilarious. You get the mental picture of them both trying their hardest to get his attention.)

SEASON 13

Season 13 brings us her library tryst with Gabriel.

She says she's motivated by trying to heal his wounded virility/grace/pride, but it's at least partially about his status as an archangel.

And of course, there's security in Sam(uel), but it's all twisted up with him being her executioner, not just her protector.

But in being her "destiny," he also functions as her security. It's very complex. (And kinda sexy.)

SEASON 14

Rowena will hit on Cas as later as season 14's Ouroboros, saying his full name in a similar coo to how she says, "Charles and Samuel." -> "Hello, Castiel."

Castiel, for his part, tends to be a little flustered by her, straightening up and saying, "Hello," back.

SEASON 15

Finally, in season 15, somewhat hilariously, Rowena moves in on Arthur Ketch.

But it's a little different this time, reflecting a more confident, in-control, and emotionally integrated Rowena.

She seems to be genuinely interested in him for his wry, science-loving personality. They banter.

She and Ketch mutually harass Dean for details about the other, like schoolyard crushes.

They had a battle connection in the past, have fought together and helped one another re: resurrection spells, but it is only now that they’re healthy and healed that they can actually see each other.

Rowena throws Dean a breathless, thankful look when he saves Ketch (for her).

She’s reformed, Ketch is reformed. It’s heartbreaking just how excited she is about him. He instills a her hope in her, for the future. (But he won’t sell out his friends. He dies. She won’t let the world die, so she dies, too.)

///

But Crowley does the same friggin' thing, doesn't he? He is so her child, a tragic mini-Rowena, despite his efforts to look like a big, bad Hell-king. 💔

SEASON 5

When we meet him, we see him backing the Winchesters re:the Colt.

In his early appearance, he does this because he thinks Lucifer is going to wipe out demon-kind.

That gamble goes okay for Crowley, mostly.

SEASON 6

Sometime in this timeframe, he is given the role of Hell-king as a consolation prize, by Ramiel, prince of Hell, who honestly doesn't give a fuck.

In season 6, Crowley backs Castiel. Cas's got magnetism and sex appeal.

As the original "angel's angel" in Heaven, he's a strong frontrunner in Heaven's Civil War simply by popularity alone. So, Cas is the horse Crowley decides to bet on.

Then, Cas turns out to be duplicitous, cunning, and too devoted to his human family to be controlled. He’s way more than Crowley can handle.

There are glimmers of this power imbalance, when Cas on occasion has had enough of Crowley's innuendo-laden threats, like when Cas snaps and crushes him into a wall, for example. But on the whole, Crowley ignores this. It's his tragic hubris.

Eventually, Cas overwhelms him and seizes power, and the whole thing turns out to be a frightening blow to his position.

So, Crowley goes running to his brother Raphael, which is another bad gamble, as Castiel straight-up kills him, and Crowley is forced to flee and go into hiding.

SEASON 7-8

In seasons 7-8, Crowley vies for control of the prophet Kevin, torturing and killing those around him.

He makes sure to kill Meg, who is in his mind a Lucifer loyalist (she's actually a Castiel loyalist at this point, but the Lucifer label sticks).

SEASON 9

In season 9, Crowley arranges a series of events to allow him to dangle Dean to Cain in a bid to transform Dean and destroy Abbadon, the newest threat to his position.

(Crowley won't suggest taking the mark on his own; he won't risk his own neck.) Afterwards, he scoops Dean up, like spoils of war, a dark parallel to the pimp-demon in Girls, Girls, Girls (and Randy).

SEASON 10

In season 10, this bites him in the ass, too.

Demon Dean proves too much to handle, a liability on the job, as he refuses to perform the cold, capitalistic mercenary duties of Hell.

"The little prat’s bad for business. He’s uncontrollable. Must be the Mark."

In a scene similar to Cas crunching Crowley into a wall, Dean throws Crowley down. Demon Dean will not be cowed by Crowley, and he will not be a sidekick, little bitch, or Queen to be "controlled."

So, Crowley goes running to his brother, Sam. He “sells him out" to Sam.

And Crowley goes running to revive Castiel again, to deal with the problem-that-solved-his-original-Abbadon-problem.

And around and around Crowley goes.

Despite everything, Crowley softens to Dean. Crowley's a little bit human now, and it shows. As he softens, his mother appears, making things so much more complicated.

SEASON 11

Crowley tries to muster up the glory of his former evil self--he kills a bunch of swingers for no reason.

Then, Crowley sees a new opportunity to sway a powerful being, and we get Crowley unsuccessfully trying to mold Amara as his newest weapon of mass destruction.

Like with Demon Dean, he strikes fast to scoop her up when she's “vulnerable” and "new,” to get her under his sphere of influence.

Then, it goes badly, as this always does for Crowley. Amara breaks Uncle Crowley's arm and runs away.

In this season, Crowley goes to bat for Cas again, trying to detach him from Lucifer and screeching angrily at Cas as Lucifer beats Crowley up.

In fact, in that brief moment before Crowley even goes to bat, he's actually smiling at Dean and Cas as they reunite, as Dean says, “Cas, we don't have a whole lot of time, okay?"

Crowley is a softie. Cas is his kinda-friend, and Crowley wants Dean to be happy. Crowley's changed.

At the end of the season, we briefly see Crowley complaining about Rowena cozying up to Chuck, while he moves to cozy up to Billie. (Really, Crowley? Stop doing the thing that gets you burned, man.)

SEASON 12

Enter season 12, and Crowley works with his mom again. He and Rowena form an uneasy alliance, and both begin to see family in a slightly new light.

They trust each other a little more, and they hurt each other to try and solve their mutual pain re: Oskar and Gavin.

Hilariously, they both start seeing Castiel in a new light this season. It's like, in watching his devotion and chivalry to his family, and as their understanding of family shifts, they've mutually decided that he's dependable and thus desireable. (The "blue-collar, family-oriented soldier.")

So yeah, season 12 finds Crowley cozying up to Castiel again in order to fight Lucfier--with Crowley being overly friendly and flirty and sing-song to the point that Cas just might bash his own head in.

(In this same timeframe, Rowena warms to Cas, so you have this implication that they're both hanging off his arms adoringly, and he is tired as fuck of dealing with them. I'm sure Cas's tendency to get a little flustered and sweet with Rowena is something that would drive Crowley insane on multiple levels.)

Crowley even risks his life for Cas against Vince!Lucifer. (He wants Cas to be his friend so badly in this era, oof.)

Then, he saves Cas against Ramiel, thanks in large part to his bond with Dean, and Dean thanks him for it.

Crowley, like Rowena, will take any form love. Any friendship. Any comradery. Even scraps. They've got the same neurosis.

Anyway, in season 12 we also have the team-up of the century, where Crowley works with his mother to send Lucifer back to the cage. Victory!

And Crowley has another fatal misstep. His last one ever, perhaps. He thinks, yet again, that he can outsmart another overpowered beast in order to buy his own security.

And so, he locks Lucifer in Nick's body, Ma'lak box-like, and tries to out-bark and out-dominate him.

Horribly, Lucifer doesn't even appear that upset. Horribly, even when he's being humiliated, the demons under Crowley flock to Lucifer. (It's not fair!)

Lucifer even seems quietly amused, like he's waiting for his moment to strike, just as Cas behaved in season 6, quietly tolerating Crowley's goading because he was not actually threatened by him.

(Crowley is no Azazel or Dagon or Ramiel or even Asmodeus.)

And it's fatal. It goes badly. Crowley's gleeful crowing of brains-versus-brawn blows up in his face.

He escapes by the skin of his teeth, and goes running, tail tucked, to tell the Winchesters what he's wrought.

Sam and Dean are horrified, realizing that Jack, Kelly, and Cas are in danger, and so they speed towards them in hopes of warning them in time.

Crowley seems a little hysterical and fatalistic, deciding to back the Winchesters one last time, because, "life is meaningless," and "what's the point of it all."

Crowley lost everything for a job he hated, so he commits suicide, because he's tired and worn down.

He has become like Raphael, "we just want it to be over."

Crowley falls to nihilism.

And Rowena despairs. 💔💔💔

/////////////////////////////////

(Text Attributions// Supernatural scripts here via @spnscripthunt. Transcripts are located here via SPNWiki. Visit their Tumblr to donate.)

[crackdkettle]

Canon versions of Supernatural characters as undergrad professors

Dean: Acts like he hates his students but is everyone’s favorite. Hilarious but you’re not sure if you’re allowed to laugh. Lectures are fun, interesting, and informative, but you have to decode his pop culture references and you will drop a whole letter grade if you say anything even vaguely disparaging about Led Zeppelin (or, god forbid, don’t know who/what Led Zeppelin is). Believes in hands-on learning, so there’s a lot of in-class activities. Not approachable in the least, but very understanding and willing to help anyone who has the guts to ask. Casually drops the most insane details from his life and moves on; refuses to elaborate when questioned (also there’s no way he could have done all the stuff he’s claimed he has when he’s still this young?). Could have a knife stuck in his chest and would still come to class, but will get one text from his husband or kid and end class forty minutes early. Exams are challenging but easy enough if you attend class and take decent notes.

Sam: Not an easy A, but not a difficult one either. Definitely a case of “you get out what you put in”. Happy to grant extensions on projects, but you basically have to have a therapy session with him in exchange. Interesting if you already like the subject, but probably won’t get you interested if you don’t. Seems about as normal as any academic but at least once a week will say something completely out of left field and act like it’s not the craziest thought anyone’s ever had.

Charlie: Spends the first class showing you how to pirate all your textbooks. Super fun, but don’t make the mistake of thinking that means she’s a pushover. Uses Lego action figures to reenact ancient myths, and offers extra credit for LARPing. Adopts any and all baby queers. In lieu of a final exam, the whole class has to do a dramatic reading of Lysistrata in the school’s amphitheater wearing chitons she taught you to make earlier in the semester to an audience comprised solely of her and her best friend.

Rowena: Terrifying in lower-division classes; fun and chill in upper-division classes. Doesn’t tolerate insolence in lower-division; loves when you challenge her in upper-division. Genuinely wants to help you learn. Rewards ass-kissing but rewards effort more.  Reassures you when you mess up that you can never be as good as her anyway. Invites your 400 class over for dinner and makes a joke about the food being poisoned in a way that makes you feel like maybe she’s not joking? Possibly having an affair with the dean. Heavily attended office hours.

Crowley: Genuinely hates his students (except for the elite few he likes), but a weirdly forgiving grader. Very easy to distract and get off on a tangent. You probably won’t learn much but you will have a good time. Exams are either a cake walk or downright impossible. In a feud with the dean.

Bobby: Both the most knowledgeable and the wisest person you’ve ever met. You want to record all his lectures and then transcribe them because every single thing he says is the most profound thing you’ve ever heard. Sincerely wants you to succeed. Everyone wants him as their advisor. Never assigns essays in his GE classes because “the students don’t like writing them, and more importantly, I don’t like reading them.” In a feud with the dean, and extremely smug in the knowledge that the dean can’t do jackshit to him because he’s tenured.

Castiel: All his lectures are either insultingly elementary and broad or doctorate-level technical and specific. No patience for stupid questions. Constantly refutes things in the textbooks but refuses to cite his sources beyond “I was there” (when writing was invented??). Cancels class at least once a week “due to a family emergency”, but then you run into him at the local arcade with his husband and/or son. Never returns homework and seems put upon/confused when you ask about it (usually says something like, “Human markers of academic success are meaningless,” and just squints at you if you ask what he’s doing in academia then). In a feud with the dean, the provost, and the university president. Essay-only exams. Rumor is he’s never given anyone an A.

[siena-sevenwits]

please tell me: what is your favourite medieval history myth to mythbust? I want to know more!

I am on a lifelong crusade to free young people of the belief that "Forty was elderly in the Middle Ages," and its accompanying myth, "Most Medievals married between ages 12-14 because they knew they'd probably die young!"

It is mathematically true that thirty-five was more or less the average life span in most parts of western Europe for much of the Medieval era. It is also true that life spans averaged shorter than in a modern first world country's population.

However, this doesn't mean most people died around that age. It's the average, because most people died either in infancy/early childhood or in old age. If you made it past early childhood, you had a decent likelihood of living into your sixties or seventies. Yes, there was greater risk of death from untreatable sickness or childbirth or misadventure, but forty was certainly not seen as old, and most people hoped to live to seventy.

As for young marriages, yes, they happened, but mainly among the aristocracy who needed to make family alliances/gain political advantage/move money around. In those cases, the young people usually remained living with their parents/relatives until they were ready to be parents themselves, at which point they would join their spouse. And remember, puberty usually occurred a couple of years later in those times, because without the rich nutrition we have today, the body does not mature as quickly. Scholarly findings indicate that many girls only experienced menarche around the age of fourteen, fifteen, or sixteen.

And if you were poor? Generally speaking, no need to marry kids off young, because there are no political alliances etc. to make! In the late Middle Ages, church and legal records show that most commoners married in their late teens or early twenties, at which point they'd be in a better position to support a family, have children, etc.

In any case, it had nothing to do with dying at forty and wanting to get in as many years of married life before then as possible. Biological clock might well be on their radar, but probably not worries about dying young.

[rowenas-my-fave-child]

Love my English teacher she’s so funny and chill once I had to do this essay thing for Serafina and the twisted staff and when I tell you at least half of that was me going on and on about how much I love Rowena like it was crazy she still gave me an A tho so yeah she slays

[rowenabean]

Just ran into my uni dancing buddy at the airport??? Last time I saw her I was, ooh, maybe 20 shortly before she moved to Melbourne for her PhD so this is wild

[angelfishofthelord]

{ isaiah 7:11 } happy birthday @mommyissuesnatural

[shallowrambles]

CLEA: End times shouldn’t bother you though, Ro, you a rat. Find your way off any sinkin’ ship.

ROWENA: Damn right. The spell I’m working on is Book of the Damned magic, and it can get us back. We can buy ourselves a few more centuries of life. Turn back the clock for us before the world inevitably goes (sing-song) ‘bye-bye.’

[onmydelulushitasalways]

the marauders being clingy

Characters: James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black

Synopsis: The Marauders loving their s/o and being all clingy

TW: Drunk, alcohol (Sirius)

James Potter

“James,” you whined, “breakfast is going to be over soon, we need to get out of bed.”

James was still half-asleep, with his face pressed against your chest as he laid on top of you. He was like a koala to a tree, clinging onto your warm body.

The way your hands massaged his scalp probably didn’t help keep him alert.

“Five more minutes,” James mumbled sleepily against your skin. “You’re too comfy.”

“James, don’t you have a quidditch match this afternoon? Don’t you want to strategize with the team this morning?”

“They can wait.”

“I have classes to get to, you know?” you stop playing with his hair, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Please, baby, I don’t wanna get up yet!” James complained pathetically.

“You have to get up eventually,” you sat up slowly, James reluctantly following suit. “Let’s get ready, go to breakfast, go to class, I’ll cheer for you at your game, and then tonight we can cuddle until we fall asleep.”

James grumpily got out of bed and ready. “Tomorrow morning is a Saturday. And I will not let you out of my arms until lunch, you hear me?”

Remus Lupin

“And so the combination of rose petals and swan feathers creates a sand-like powder that is commonly used in beauty and love spells. Rowena Ravenclaw, however, feared that access to such emotional magic would harm the students, so for the first two centuries of Hogwarts’ existence was an impeccably swan-free zone…”

You read your history book out loud to Remus, who had his head rested in your lap.

“Remus? Are you listening?”

“Hm? Yes, of course, love. Swans and the lack thereof,” he nodded, as he flipped himself from his back to his stomach. His head still resting comfortably on your thighs.

“Tired, Moony?” you put the book down.

“Mhm, a bit. But don’t stop reading on my account. I’m still listening,” Remus’s voice was tired and relaxed.

“Don’t be silly, you go to sleep.”

“Are you gonna fall asleep with me?” he looked up from your lap, expectantly.

“No, I still need to study. The history of Hogwarts waits for no one,” you sighed with a faint smile. “But you had this class last term, so you don’t need to sit through all this.”

“I want to, love. I like hearing you read,” Remus laid his head back down. “Please, continue.”

You smiled with a roll of the eyes and reopened the book. “In addition to swans, all white feathers were equally prohibited. Notably, doves and cranes got it particularly rough…”

Before you could make it to the next page, Remus was asleep on your lap.

Sirius Black

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” Remus frowned as he led you into the Gryffindor common room.

On a couch, laid a very drunk Sirius, talking some poor second year’s ear off.

“Oh, and you should just see them! They’ve got this smile, and these eyes, and, ugh! I hate them they’re so perfect. And I’m dating them! How did that happen?” Sirius ranted.

“I, um, I don’t know,” the perfectly sober second-year shrugged awkwardly.

“Me neither!” Sirius said just a bit too loud.

You walked over to relieve the poor kid from their duties. “I’ve got him from here, thanks.”

“Darling!” Sirius cheered happily at your arrival. He opened his arms for a hug, which when you accept he turns into a cuddle.

He wrapped his arms around your neck and pulled you down on top of him on the couch. The scent of alcohol hit you.

“How much have you had to drink, Sirius?” you inquired.

“Enough to feel good enough to do this,” he smirked as he pulled you into a kiss.

The kiss was long and sloppy, until you pulled away. Sirius frowned slightly at that.

“Siri, you’re smashed. I think you should get to bed,” you advised.

“What? No! You just got here, I’m just starting to have fun!” Sirius whined.

Suddenly, another Gryffindor approached you, asking for help with an essay he had due tomorrow.

“Back off! She was just about to take me to bed!” He declared proudly, with drunken loudness and shamelessness.

And you did just that. Took him to his room, and cuddled him to sleep. Although his hangover was not as pleasant.

[ahlyasimps]

Scaredy Slytherin [S.S.]

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Reader (tried to make it GN)

Summary: Sebastian may have chickened out on asking you to the dance but you were determined to dance with him anyways. Shout out to Ominis for being a good wingman.

A/N: Well aware there is no Yule Ball but why have big, fancy castle and NOT host a ball. It’s just a waste.

When you found yourself daydreaming about his curly brown hair messily combed through to give him that boyish charm and his adorable smile, you knew it was over. Rowena, you really had it bad for Sebastian Sallow of all people. Samantha loved to tease you about your little crush on the trouble making Slytherin student but you always waved her off as being delusional. Now as you found yourself unable to concentrate in potions class because of a certain boy sitting just ahead of you, you think she might have been right.

It all started when you found yourself struggling a bit in potions. No matter what you did you always made a mess of your cauldron so you begrudgingly approached Sebastian who by some miracle was top of that class. What started as simple tutoring (he charged a steep price though) quickly became hushed laughter in the quiet library as talking with Sebastian put you at ease. It went from barely knowing the other existed (well, you knew who he was, he was infamous after all) to inside jokes and hanging out sometimes in the great hall. You've even friends with the prickly Ominis Gaunt. It was easy to crush on Sebastian Sallow, he had a way of charming you.

With the Yule Ball just announced mere hours prior, all everyone was talking about was who they wanted to ask out. You knew you weren't going to ask out Sebastian, knowing he only ever viewed you as a study buddy/friend so when Samantha and a few others asked if you'd all like to go together as a group, you agreed.

As you were leaving potions class, you heard Sebastian shout your name urgently. "Oh, hey Sebastian! Did you need something? Forget your books again?" You laughed teasingly.

"It was one time! I think you and Ominis are spending too much time together, now you're both ganging up on me," he said sighing dramatically.

"Speaking of Ominis, where is he anyways? Thought you two were always attached at the hip?

"Ah, just over there" Sebastian replied pointing near the door of the potions classroom where Ominis was stood. "But ah, I wanted to asked you something." He said rubbing the back of his neck.

With the timing and his apparent nervousness, was Sebastian Sallow going to ask you out? You hoped it would be so. There was a lengthy pause before he continued speaking.

"You're friends with that Poppy girl right? Is she going with anyone? Ominis wanted to ask her to the ball." Sebastian hurriedly went on to say.

"Oh, sorry then. I think she was asked by Prewit already." You muttered out dejectedly. Well, since you have him maybe you could ask. Try to play it off as two friends hanging out at the ball. "Oh! By the way Sebastian..." You started saying before he cut you off.

"Sorry! Think Ominis is calling me, he can't bear to part with me for long you see." He quickly said before racing off. Were his ears red you thought watching him run back to Ominis. He was acting rather nervous for someone who was asking a question on another's behalf. As you left, you could have sworn you heard Ominis berating Sebastian, about what you couldn’t be sure. You didn't think much of it though, saddened that you lost your chance.

Even though you could very well ask him other times, the two of you were friends after all and hung out regularly for the tutoring sessions, he always seemed to dodge the topic of the ball. You knew he never asked anyone so you didn’t bother bringing up the topic, content to go seek him out the day of.

As the day of the Yule Ball approached, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. You had never been one to attend such grand events, but the prospect of seeing Sebastian in a dress robes had your heart racing.

As you made your way down to the Great Hall, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious. You had spent hours getting ready, trying to make sure your hair and outfit were perfect, but you still felt nervous.

When you entered the Great Hall, you immediately scanned the crowd for Sebastian. You found him standing near the refreshments table, chatting with a group of his Slytherin friends. He looked handsome as ever, his hair neatly combed back and his dark robes fitting him perfectly.

"The instant they walk in, they're already distracted by Sallow" Samantha said teasingly. "Oh just go over there instead of making moony eyes at him." Amit replied laughing at your expression.

And so with the encouragement of your friends (and perhaps a bit of firewhiskey)  you mustered up all your courage to approach him. But stopped when Ominis called out to you. 

“[Y/N]? Is that you?” he asked, “Oh good, Sebastian has been a real idiot about this whole ball. He meant to ask you out but kept using me as a scapegoat. Honestly, I’ve been tempted to hex him.” “He meant to ask me out?” “Well of course, you’re the only person he ever talks about. It’s rather frustrating how much he acts like a kicked puppy whenever you leave.” So, Sebastian liked you all this time? You started tuning out whatever Ominis was saying next, too thrilled at this new development and the newfound confidence it gave you. “Ominis, thank you. I could kiss you right now.” “I pray you don’t” He quickly shot back looking disgusted at the thought before you bid him goodbye to go confront the scaredy Slytherin. You completely missed the little smirk the boy had on his face as he heard you run off. Where would Sebastian be without him, he thought.

"Hey, Sebastian," you said, trying to sound casual.

Sebastian turned to you, his eyes widening in surprise. "[Y/N]? You look amazing," he said, a hint of a smile on his lips.

You felt your heart skip a beat. "Thanks," you replied, feeling a bit tongue-tied.

"Would you like to dance?" Sebastian asked, holding out his hand.

Your heart leapt at the invitation. "I would love to," you replied, taking his hand.

As you both made you way to the dance floor, you felt a rush of emotions you had never felt before. You couldn't believe you were dancing with Sebastian, and the way he held you close made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

As the two of you swayed to the music, you couldn't help but feel like this was where you were meant to be - in Sebastian's arms.

As the night went on, you both danced together and talked about everything and nothing. And when the night finally came to an end, Sebastian walked you back to your common room, holding your hand the entire way.

As you said your goodbyes, Sebastian leaned in and kissed you on the cheek. "Thanks for an amazing night," he said, a smile on his lips.

You felt your heart swell with happiness as you watched him walk away, already looking forward to tomorrow.

[thecrystalquill]

A/N: Welcome to Chapter Thirteen! Thank you for waiting; I wanted to do it before Christmas, but you know how busy December is. Also find me on AO3: The_Crystal_Quill !

Also I'm so glad to finally give Rahim some appreciation <3

Please don't forget to leave a like!!!

Masterlist Series Masterlist Introduction Your First Year Letter

Chapter Thirteen ~ One Step Closer

Dear (Y/N),

It’s about time that you wrote me a letter that I didn’t have to share, and I don’t appreciate you keeping secrets from me, but I do enjoy having secrets to keep. I won’t tell anyone; I highly doubt they would be of any help anyway.

First of all, stop looking in the damned library, the answers to your Message aren’t in a book. I suggest you figure out where to go. This Spirit, whoever they are, obviously has something for you to find. They must have been to Hogwarts, or there would have been no point in Contacting you now. It must be there.

I would like to be involved in this, obviously you’re getting nowhere on your own, the only obstacle in my way is the fact that Hogwarts is so far. you should stay at Hogwarts to do some investigating. I will help.

I’ll start to set the seed in Mother and Father’s heads about what it would be like to see your school, I know there is a village near Hogwarts, find out the name for me. Then you can write home and tell them that you want to spend the holidays at Hogwarts – I’ll convince them to travel to see you there, it should be easy to get them to believe it was their idea.

In the mean time, you just look for some clues. I’m sure you can find something to do until I get there.

~ Wednesday

Emotionless, mildly condescending, and straight to the point, just like her sister. It was clear to (Y/N) that Wednesday was rather excited about this enigma; it had only taken a couple of days for her to reply, and she’d obviously put a plan together rather quickly in her eager state.

She really must be bored without (Y/N) there. It was a nice thought, in a way.

(Y/N) didn’t really want to spend the winter holidays at Hogwarts; she’d actually been rather looking forward to sleeping in her own bed and decorating the family tree, standing for another annual portrait and bickering while Lurch painted their every expression, and not to mention the flaming Christmas Pudding that only Grandmama knew how to make. But it seemed that some things were more important – (Y/N) was starting to despise this Spirit for interrupting her life; she was supposed to have a very normal year of magic and studying.

There were no practical lessons so close to the holidays, and most of her classes consisted of reviewing the work they had completed during their first term before it came to an end. For the last thirty-six minutes, she had been writing an essay about Rowena Ravenclaw and her life before and after the creation of Hogwarts, while Professor Binns lectured about how next term they would be looking into the other schools of magic around the world. It was a shame, (Y/N) thought, that Binns had a talent for making a subject so interesting sound so incredibly boring. It seemed the most exciting thing to ever happen to him was his death, and even then his retelling of the event was as dull and lifeless as the corpse which he left behind.

“…Now, Beaubatons, the French academy, that is – you may read it and think it is pronounced ‘beau’ as in ‘beautiful’, but is actually pronounced ‘boar’ like the wild pig, now that I think on it, it’s much like Hogwarts being named from the mole of a hog – anyhow, Beaubatons is in the Pyrenees, and takes students predominantly from, France and Spain, so I suppose they must also have language classes there too. Actually, quite a lot of them seem to speak a few languages, very talented students, they are, so I suppose they must offer language classes. So anyway, as I was saying, Beaubatons school is cloaked under a spell, much like the one that hides the Hogwarts grounds from muggles, but where here they simply get dazed and confused and return themselves away from the area, them being in the Pyrenees means a lot of muggles tend to get themselves lost off the edge of rocks and cliffs and the like, and as unfortunate as that is, it means that the whole area is highly advised against, as far as the muggles are concerned, so in the end it turns out to be not so bad. Sure, there’s a few injuries and the odd death every now and then, but it does a fine job at keeping the muggles away. So, as I was saying…” Sweet Hades take my soul to the depths of Styx already, (Y/N) thought. If he carried on any longer she may just pull her ears off, and her peers seemed to suffer similarly. Listening to Binns’ unique way of speaking was somehow the verbal equivalent of watching paint dry; his tone was slow and monotonous as if he were bored of it himself, and he drawled through each sentence like a snail, droning on and on, digression after digression, to the point where it’s hard to even hear what exactly he’s talking about over the constant sound. And don’t even get started on what it was like to get trapped in a conversation with him – there was no escaping the relentless torture of word after word for what felt like hours, and there was no helping his victims chained in place by the requirement to be polite to your elders.

Sharing her desk was Saoirse, of course, but (Y/N) had noticed she’d fallen asleep some time ago – Binns had quite the power for doing that. Now would be the perfect time for some earphones, yet another con to muggle technology not working at Hogwarts; she’d once wanted to ask why that was, but she dreaded how long the answer would take.

‘Rowena Ravenclaw then decided that her house would be one for students who valued wisdom and knowledge above all else, and created an environment which would nurture their minds and mould her students into some of the brightest witches and wizards at Hogwarts.’ (Y/N) wrote, hoping to finish her essay before the class ended so she wouldn’t have it for homework. Only ten minutes left until the bell would sound and release them from their torture.

When there was only four minutes left, (Y/N) nudged Saoirse with her elbow, waking her almost immediately; they had learned that it was best to leave as soon as the bell rang, rather than risk being caught up in a conversation with the professor, it was a mad-dash to leave.

As she rolled up her essay and put her quill away, (Y/N) thought about what she was going to write in her letter home. Wednesday must have already set the seed of seeing Hogwarts, as she’d put it, so now she needed to request that she stay. Only, she was finding it a little tricky to think up a reason for the strange request; in almost every letter (Y/N) had mentioned how she couldn’t wait to return home, what could possibly make her want to stay?

She needed a lie, and a good one at that.

When the bell finally dismissed them, the girls grabbed their bags and cloaks and exited the classroom. As December had rolled around, the snow was starting to fall each night, leaving a light layer on the grounds, and the hallways were becoming even more chilled than before. It was the perfect amount of cold for (Y/N); her breath fogged slightly in front of her, and she could wear comfortable layers, and feel like she was taking a lovely trip through the morgue.

The hallways gradually warmed up as they got closer to the Great Hall, their ever-burning fires seemed to heat the whole room, and the toasty warmth was trapped between the walls. Magic, probably, stopped the heat from escaping through the brickwork.

At the Slytherin table, (Y/N) sat and thought of what to write in her letter while Saoirse started a conversation about her latest obsession: vampires. “Wait, you really didn’t know they were real?” (Y/N) asked as she fiddled with the golden goblet in front of her. She sometimes forgot that Saoirse was raised by very ordinary muggles.

“I thought they were just a myth, like an old folk-tale, y’know?” Answered Saoirse with a wave of her arm, she gestured often when she spoke, (Y/N) noticed. “Like Dracula.”

“Dracula was real too.” She replied, amused at the way Saoirse dropped her hands on the table and gawked.

“What?” She said, moving her hair out of her face to pay proper attention to her friend. “Explain, now.”

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) succumbed to the distraction. “Count Dracula was from Romania, he came to Whitby by ferry, and he lived and died there. The story got a bit exaggerated through time, but he was very real. In fact, you can learn all about him in my town.” She was ready to leave it there as she saw her other roommates enter the room and look for them, but she thought one last piece of information would be worth sharing. “Local legend says he’s buried in an unmarked grave somewhere in the town, but he’s actually buried in the Addams Cemetery next to my Great-Great-Uncle Wolfgang Addams.”

“WHAT?”

Dear Mother and Father,

I have so been looking forward to returning home for the holidays, as you know. But there has been an unfortunate incident involving a friend of mine and a carnivorous plant in one of the herbology greenhouses. She is having to spend the holidays in the hospital wing and can’t go home. I know you have been excited for me to be back home, but I may have already agreed to stay here so my friend wouldn’t be alone. Is that alright? I feel terrible about it all, but I’ve heard Christmas at Hogwarts is something to be awed. Perhaps you could send my gifts here? Or we can save them for the next holidays? It’s such a shame you can’t come here.

I have been practising my sword skills in the Forbidden Forest, luckily the cold weather means that few people are outside to see me. Sadly, I haven’t seen any terrible creatures in the forest, no ghouls or monsters, but there’s still time.

My lessons have been going well; my potions are near perfect, herbology has been coming naturally to me, and I only fell off of my broom once. Though, Transformation is proving to be more difficult than I anticipated.

The Hogwarts Express leaves from Hogsmeade Station early on Saturday morning next week, and I’ve agreed to accompany Saoirse as she boards. I look forward to hearing back from you.

~ (Y/N)

It wasn’t a perfect lie, but it would do. (Y/N) was attaching the letter to Mortis’ long leg as he finished up the steak and kidney pie she brought him, hoping he wouldn’t get too cold during his long flight. She’d already sent a note to Wednesday, informing her of the name of the nearest town and any updates on her mystery. With luck, she could easily convince them to stay in Hogsmeade – it would be a shame to not see them all for the winter – perhaps (Y/N) could sneak Wednesday into school.

“Go on then, Mortis.” She said to the great bird, giving his strong back a pat. “Fly back home as quickly as you can, I’ll see you soon.” (Y/N) took a step back, and watched as the vulture gave her a farewell nod and spread out his massive wings, diving from the tall tower and catching the wind to take him south. She watched until the giant creature turned into a brown-ish blur and disappeared into the white horizon, hoping it didn’t snow on his journey.

The trail back to the castle was long and peaceful; dark fir and pine tree tops were dusted in white and the snow on the ground had set a foot deep already, crunching beneath her shiny black boots with each step. For a while, that was the only sound she heard, until she neared the castle grounds and saw that there were students dotted around – some were settled around the courtyard some were walking through the fields to the iced-over lake, and two identical red-heads were throwing snowballs either at their friends or at unfortunate bystanders.

(Y/N) tugged on her leather gloves and tightened the emerald scarf around her neck, feeling a chill breeze redirect her way. She was pondering returning to the library to once more search for a useful book in the Divination section; she had all but given up on that idea, there was no way she could search through so many on her own, but she’d hate to admit that Wednesday was right.

She was just ascending the salted stone steps that lead into the castle, when she felt a soft pat on her head, and cold water melting into her hair and run down her neck. (Y/N) froze, and the whole courtyard seemed to freeze with her. A curse was muttered from behind her, and she turned to face the culprit. Maybe a dozen people were in the open area, all staring wide-eyed between the black-clad Addams heir and the group of damp third-year boys at the centre of it all. Three of the boys took a step back, pointing at their red-head friends accusingly, who watched warily for her reaction. (Y/N) said nothing, waiting for them to go first.

They straightened themselves out, faces pale from the cold and shock, noses red, gloves wet, both covered in snow. They looked to each other briefly, seemingly deciding what to do. “It was him!” The one of the left exclaimed, pointing to his brother.

The second twin gasped and put his hands up in surrender, shooting his brother a horrified expression of betrayal. “It was an accident, I swear!” He defended, giving her what he hoped was a sincerely apologetic look, crossing his heart with his forefinger. “I was aiming for Lee!”

A boy on the right threw his hands up, mirroring the look of innocence his accuser displayed. “Don’t drag me into this, you’re just a crappy shot.”

“Oi!”

“Well you’re the one who hit her!”

It was clear a petty argument was about to break out, so (Y/N) turned to face them fully from the third step and crossed her arms, successfully regaining their focus. They expected her to yell, to scream, to throw insults and curses. But she didn’t – she already had their attention; she didn’t have to cause a scene to get what she wanted.

All eyes were on them as the boys looked between themselves and her nervously; the longer she stood silent, the more anxious they became, wondering what she might do. Nothing in her face or body language gave away any indication of what she was thinking. Lee elbowed the twin nearest to him, seeming to snap him into some sort of action. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose, I promise.” The guilty red-head said, pulling his knitted hat over his ears as he gave her another genuine expression.

There was a pause of complete silence, all lesser-noises absorbed by the blanketed snow, as everyone watched. Then, with only a single, small nod, (Y/N) turned and continued on her way, leaving them to their business.

Sometimes (Y/N) forgot about the reputation she’d somehow accumulated since her arrival, after all, she did very little to build it. Somehow, in simply being herself, people had made her (and her family) to be some sort of fantastical being of dark and mysterious origin. Saoirse often made her feel so normal, that she often forgot that, in the eyes of everyone else, she wasn’t. So it wasn’t too drastic of her to assume something as simple as a rogue snowball may have been thrown on purpose, she thought. But an apology was all she needed, and the boy was polite enough to give a sincere one. So perhaps not everyone outside of her inner circle was all that bad, even if they thought some truth was behind the rumours about her.

It was half-past eleven on a Saturday morning, exactly one week before the Winter holidays, which meant that the library would be full of people finishing up assignments and catching up on reading. As she entered the quiet hall, she was unsurprised to see most people wearing Ravenclaw jumpers. Making her way towards the back, (Y/N) passed a table piled high with books; curiously, she peered around a stack to see Hermione in a discussion with her two Gryffindor friends. “This is taking forever, I don’t know where else to look.”

“I know I’ve read his name somewhere.” Harry said, flicking through a copy of Great Wizards Of The Twentieth Century, before Ron nudged him in the arm and nodded to their observer. “Oh, um… hi…” He said, drawing back slightly, as if unsure of what to say. It was then that (Y/N) noticed how Harry didn’t seem to ever say her name – perhaps, (Y/N) considered, he simply hadn’t decided on if he should call her by her first name or her last.

“That’s quite a lot of books,” (Y/N) commented, busying herself with undoing her coat.

“Yeah well, we’ve been doing quite a lot of reading.” Said Ron with a slight edge of defence. (Y/N) couldn’t understand why, it seemed to her a silly thing to defend.

Normally, (Y/N) would have resigned the attempt at conversation. But given that these were Hermione’s friends, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to show a little effort – she thought it was very grown-up of her. “Anything interesting?”

The answers from each of them varied, but Hermione simply huffed at them and turned to her. “(Y/N), do you know anything about Nicolas Flamel?” She asked, ignoring Ron’s noise of protest.

(Y/N) hummed as she removed her scarf and hung it on her arm. “Can’t say I’ve heard of him. Why?”

“No reason.” Said Ron, closing his book and moving it aside, interrupting Hermione before she shared too much.

Hermione only sent him a glare and ignored his frown of disapproval. “We’ve looked everywhere but we just can’t seem to find anything on him. The only place we haven’t checked is the Restricted Section.”

“The Restricted Section?” (Y/N) repeated, wondering why a library would hide books rather than share them. “What’s in there?”

“Mostly books on restricted topics, advanced dark magic and the likes.” The intelligent girl explained, turning to look to the back of the library. “Unfortunately, you can’t go in without a consent form, and that’s never going to happen.”

“Well, can’t you just ask the librarian? Surely she’ll know something about this Flamel.” (Y/N) offered, though she was clearly intrigued.

Harry shook his head. “No way, she’ll tell on us for sure.” He said, but the moment he did his eyes widened and Ron made another frustrated groan.

(Y/N) raised a brow and felt her curiosity grow. “So it’s a secret, this Flamel stuff?” She guessed, and it seemed she hit the nail right on the head.

“Look, you can’t tell anyone.” Ron stressed, moving the stack of books from between them so she could see all of him properly. “It’s very important that no one finds out about any of it.”

(Y/N) nodded, she wasn’t one for spreading secrets. “Of course.” Seeing then that she had nothing more to offer, and not long before lunch, (Y/N) stepped away from the table to take her leave. “I’ll let you to it then, I’ll see you here in the week, Hermione.” She said, then gave a nod to the group and made her way to the Divination section.

She thought that went relatively well; at least this time they actually talked with her.

With her coat and scarf placed safely on a desk chair, (Y/N) chose a shelf to scour, and began her ascent up the ladders to have a look at the M’s. Perhaps today was a good day to go through Meteoromancy: Secrets in Storms. She did love the sweet lull of thunder.

The Great Hall was decorated beyond (Y/N)’s expectations; snow dusted trees standing twenty feet tall at the front of the room, snowflakes falling from the ceiling only to fade away halfway down, colourful ribbons and garlands hung on the walls, and everything smelt of cinnamon and pine.

It was all very light and bright and colourful… it only made her miss the smooth blacks and blood reds of their tree at home.

At the Slytherin table, (Y/N) sat picking at a bowl of fruit as everyone discussed the holidays; Saoirse was looking forward to returning to her home most of all, telling Millicent all about her dog and how much she’d missed him. (Y/N) wished she was going back to Whitby – the beachside town was so charming in the winter; there were rarely any tourists, the wind was icy cold from the sea breeze, and the famed abbey looked so beautifully haunted covered in snow and salt-ice. The Addams Manor would be decorated with silky blacks, silvers, reds, white, and plum; the tree decorated with skulls and spiderwebs, piles of gifts wrapped in black paper; and the games they would play would bring a smile even to Wednesday’s face (especially when they played autopsy).

There were exclamations of excitement and dozens of owls came flying down from the highest windows carrying letters and packages to their owners, dropping them in their laps. Saoirse, Millicent, and Bridgit tore open their letters eagerly, as (Y/N) waited for Mortis to deliver a letter from her parents.

“I’ll just be a minute,” said Bridgit after a gulp of pumpkin juice, standing with a letter in hand, “this one’s addressed to me and my brother, I need to catch him before he goes to class.” She explained with a huff, turning to find him at the Gryffindor table.

Saoirse leaned across the table to stab her fork into an untouched sausage on Bridgit’s plate, then put her own letter safely in her bag. “What about yours?” She asked Millicent. “That from your parents?”

Millicent nodded, fiddling with the page in her hand. “Yeah, just how they’re looking forward to me going back and all that. Not very long, though.”

A moment later there was a scuffle of wings from the high window as a few owls rushed out of the way, making room for Mortis to fold his enormous wings to fit through, then reopen them again to glide down. He had the usual black envelope in his talons, dropping it for his young mistress to open, and bending his head low for a pat. “Good morning, Mortis.” She greeted him as she dragged an unused knife under the fold of the envelope to reveal the off-white paper inside. “Go get something to eat.” She said, watching him waddle over to a plate of bacon; his walk might have been cute, if it weren’t for the sharp talons that tapped the table with each heavy footfall that showed his weight. With all of the long-distance flights and buffet of foods, he really was getting bigger by the month.

(Y/N) unfolded the pages to read her mother’s swirling black handwriting.

Dear (Y/N),

We understand your desire to stay at Hogwarts with your friend. If you had something to do with the injury, it shows good character that you would agree to make up for it, & for that we are very proud of you. Pugsley would very much like to know more about the injury and how it came about, & if there were any limbs lost or infected wounds. Well, you will be able to tell him yourself. After we received your letter, Wednesday subtly pointed out how Hogsmeade is a popular visit this time of year, & how it isn’t too far from your school – she will deny it to her dying breath, but I believe she misses you more than she’ll admit. But nonetheless, we agree. We have made reservations at the Hog’s Head, & will be arriving on Sunday 22nd and staying until January 5th. As for you, you may stay with us or at Hogwarts with your friend, we can make arrangements for whatever you decide. I’ve included a note for the deputy headmistress in the envelope, if you would please give it to her.

We are all so looking forward to seeing you, Darling. It has been far too long already.

Missing you,

Mother

X

(Y/N) let out a small sigh; Wednesday might not have been as subtle as she’d said, but her intentions worked out anyway – and her family believed the lie she’d crafted, so all was well.

She folded the letter back into the envelope and took out the page written for McGonnagal, curious to be sure that she hadn’t written anything about the lie, but was relieved to read only about last-minute plans to Hogsmeade. (Y/N) would be glad to deliver it at the end of her Transfiguration class.

A tap on the arm brought (Y/N) back up from the page, seeing Saoirse collect her bag and grab a biscuit. “C’mon, we’ve got Potions.” She said, and (Y/N) noticed she had Millicent’s letter in hand.

“Why do you have that?” She asked as they made their way out of the Hall.

“She left it on the table, I’ll give it to her in class.”

The Dungeons were icy at this time of year, which was no surprise really – actually, what was a surprise was that they let students live down there in the damp and the cold. Their breaths fogged up in the air as they descended the steps and turned down the classroom’s corridor, seeing most students already at their desks, still wearing their robes and gloves. Saoirse gave a quick indication towards Millicent, nodding to (Y/N) as she returned the letter.

Snape entered the classroom with a swish of a cloak, glaring at those left standing around. “Be seated.” He demanded with upturned lips, watching as everyone shuffled to the nearest table. Truly, that man shouldn’t be working with children.

(Y/N) saw a spare seat in the centre-left of the room, where Rahim was sitting alone, and decided to occupy it (seeing as Saoirse had panicked and immediately sat with Millicent). She gave him a nod in greeting, receiving a shy smile in return as she unloaded her textbook, notes, and parchment onto her side of the desk.

“Today we will review the Forgetfulness Potion.” Snape drawled, and if it weren’t for the fact that so many of them were scared of him, many students would be lulled back to sleep by his monotonous voice. “This includes ingredients, directions, effects, cures, and history. Find the page in your textbooks, and I want an essay of at least two feet before the end of class, or you will be finishing an extra foot for homework.” There were a few groans from the back of the room, which he ignored completely. “You’ll do well to pay attention – you will be tested on it at the start of your next term, and it will be included in your final exam at the end of the year, along with the many other potions and ingredients that we cover.”

For a long while, there was near-silence in the room, only the scratching of quills and the low mumbles and whispers of discussions. And as (Y/N) was writing about the effects of the potion (which she was already having a hard time remembering), she felt a cramp in her hand and decided to take a short break.

Rahim was writing quickly, copying a list from his textbook rather efficiently, until he noticed the bored look on his friend’s face as she studied a satisfying lower-case ‘b’ on his paper. “Um… you alright?”

Nodding, (Y/N) continued to rub her hand as she glanced in the direction of their professor, seeing he was busy marking papers with vague disappointment. “Yes, just… in need of a break.” She answered truthfully.

Rahim nodded and straightened himself out, hiding a yawn behind his hand. “Yeah, me too. But at least there’s not long before the holidays.”

(Y/N) hummed, deciding against mentioning how she was staying back. “Yeah, you can finally spend some time away from the library.” She teased, as if she wasn’t in there far more than him.

Humming a laugh, the boy gave her another shy smile, half-hidden by his dark hair. He seemed to be considering something, opening and then closing his mouth hesitantly.

(Y/N) realised that she couldn’t recall ever having a conversation with Rahim alone; they were always accompanied by Saoirse or Hermione. Perhaps that was why he was hesitating – or maybe it just made him all the more shy. “What is it?”

Rahim scrunched his brows slightly, before opting to say what was on his mind. “Well, uh… I was just wonderin’… about them books you’re always reading from the library…” He finally said, fidgeting with his quill and smudging his fingers with the first ink-stains of the day. “They’re just a bit… um… odd… I guess.”

She could tell he was trying very hard not to offend her, which she found very endearing, and was pleased that he was putting such effort into his phrasing. She thought perhaps that he could be trusted with the vague truth; after all, he didn’t have anyone to tell secrets too, other than Saoirse maybe. But (Y/N) was too tired to think up clever lies – it was a skill she’d have to work on. “I received a Message from a spirit, and I’m trying to figure out what to do.” She strategically answered.

To her surprise, Rahim didn’t seem all too shocked by this. Given his quiet nature, she’d expected a bit more of… a reaction. But instead, he seemed to be thinking over her answer seriously. “Spirit? Like a ghost?”

She waved a hand in a ‘sort of’ gesture. “Kind of… but a more dead ghost than a… living... ghost?” She cringed — not so elegantly put.

Rahim thought nothing of the peculiar answer, going along with it in understanding. “Well… where’ve you been lookin’?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Well, just about everything really. Auramancy, Occulomancy, Tarot, runes… so far I haven’t found anything helpful.”

“And Necromancy wasn’t any help?”

She stopped. For the first time in a while, her brain seemed to stutter and freeze. Necromancy.

Necromancy.

Oh how the hell did she not think of Necromancy?

“Oh… I am such an idiot.” She muttered, massaging her forehead in frustration. It was so obvious now, she seriously questioned where her head had been all this time. “Rahim, it’s extremely rare that I’ll ever say this again, but I owe you one.” (Y/N) said, earning another shy smile from the boy.

She had one last shelf to check in the library.

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[shallowseeker]

Sam’s “destiny” was to be “king of the rats/riffraff”…and he didn’t really want that.

I don’t exactly have textual support for this but I suspect that Sam would have more readily embraced a Heavenly destiny, because it represents rising above his class background. Whereas Hell represents thriving in a place that is literally beneath him. (Well, it wouldn’t have been him per se…that was a bait and switch trick where he would have been “boy-king” in body only—a sham class rank built to entice his ego into said trap with the lure of false power. But the overall point stands!)

Don’t get me wrong; I support his rejection of Hell. In-text, it’s healthy to reject the nihilism and disinhibited-loss-of-free-will that Hell can tend to represent.

This is more a thought about how he originally associates it in his brain, I think. It’s an interesting thought! And now I’m thinking about how Rowena and Crowley view Hell as rising above…

[nexility-sims]

have been feeling listless and unmoored re: sims stuff lately, but i got a healthy dose of inspiration from @warwickroyals & @prydainroyals this past week, so i did a little succession / magazine-ish thing :^) obviously beatriz's 2023 death would be commemorated in uspanian vogue !!!!! obviously !!!!

transcribed text below:

Fashion is a Royal (and Family) Affair

That Crown Princess Barbie is a student of Uspanian style isn’t a surprise. For this issue, she recounts the historical episode at the heart of our memorial for the late Queen Beatriz. Pictured above in private photos are: Mother Desideria in 1860; Mother Zuriñe in 1885; Mother Rowena and then-Crown Prince Alfonso in 1926.

THE “BIRDIE” ISSUE OF VOGUE USPANA debuted in 1973. At the time, the magazine was in its infancy. An issue shaped by the queen—and it was, from cover to cover, driven by her desires and presence—ensured longevity. It proved to be a bestseller. Clothes, too, flew off the racks as Uspana’s designers received a boost among popular consumers. A textiles renaissance commenced among women of a certain class who had been looking elsewhere for quality fabric. Then and now, this was the mission of the magazine: loyalty to Uspanian fashion. The Birdie issue was a testament to this, from the sensibilities it imparted to the sourcing of its materials. The queen’s favorite designers, stylists, and photographers filled the issue; it made them iconic, and they would continue to set national trends for decades to come. More importantly, the Birdie issue fit into a larger project underway during Beatriz’s reign. Foreign fashion’s creep into the Uspanian mainstream had started two centuries before Beatriz obtained the Crown, but it reached its cultural apex under the sway of her mother. Uspana’s people had long reviled Queen Rowena’s taste in one breath and wished to emulate it in the second. The two women were not seemingly opposed in a diametric sense. They overlapped under the label of “extravagant,” namely, but Beatriz was forgiven her excess. The Birdie issue, in retrospect, shows why. In an initial meeting with the queen, she told then-editor Lluc Soler that she cared deeply about a “revival” of traditional fashion in the country. Soler replied that traditional fashion was alive and well—“in the mountains, with the grandmothers.” Some in the annals have suggested that this retort led to control of the issue being ceded informally to a team with whom the queen preferred to work. (By 1975, Papan Ibarra had risen from those ranks to become the magazine’s new editor-in-chief, a position she occupied until 1991.) Nonetheless, a certain truth in Soler’s statement formed the foundation of the issue. It did draw heavy inspiration from those grandmothers in the mountains. This included people such as the queen’s own grandmother, Mother Zuriñe, who readily embraced the aesthetics of Yaas and was a master weaver in her own right. The cover reflected the elevated homage orchestrated within. On it, Birdie herself posed in a wool rebozo hand-dyed with cochineal. This garment was a perfect duplicate of the so-called suncloths the queen’s great-grandmother, Mother Desideria, wore on a regular basis in the late nineteenth century. Fittingly, it was also topped with a replica inspired by the time. One of the many jewelry pieces destroyed during the 1880s had been the Shield Flower tiara with its red fire opal set in gold and symbolic allusions to the sacrifice and self-immolation of Uspana’s founding mothers. Queen Beatriz wore tiaras on many occasions, but it was widely known that she preferred to wear the true Uspanian symbol of elite regalia: the jade necklace. For that reason, jade

BIRDIE, 1973 Shield Flower tiara by Xiuhcozcatl for the House of Tecuani. Rebozo by Quilatzli Castañeda. Necklace creator unknown. Fashion editor: Papan Ibarra.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Passionate Discussion (Larissa Weems x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Sometimes your anger gets the best of you

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: smut, just so much smut, also angry conversations

You wouldn’t say working at Nevermore Academy was hard, but you did find yourself dealing with an inordinate amount of rage. Mostly it was directed at your boss. Larissa Weems got under your skin, and you had no idea why. It would be easier if you didn’t find her the sexiest person you’d ever seen.

First, you’d asked her if you could take the students into town for an excursions. She’d said no. Then you’d asked if you could take them into the forest. Once again she said no. You’d assumed she’d be okay with you conducting a lesson down at the lake. That refusal had left you shaking with anger. And then the one after that. And the one after that. And the one after that.

It was as if she delighted in foiling your plans for your students.

So you’d tried a different approach. Cajoling. Weedling. Playing nice and trying to be her friend. Doing every task she asked of you. The only thing you’d yet to try was begging. Your dignity hadn’t deserted you that much yet.

But finally you’d reached the straw that broke the camels back.

“You can not seriously think there is any danger in conducting a class in the quad,” you stormed, slamming down the paper on her desk. Stamped across it in large red letters was a rejection.

“Of course not,” she said, turning those sparkling blue eyes up to you. You bit down on a growl.

“Then what possible reason could you have for not allowing this?” you demanded.

“Why the noise would carry to other classrooms. It would cause quite the disturbance,” she said, that calm voice only forcing you to a new height of anger.

“You won’t allow me to teach a class anywhere but in the assigned room, you point blank refused buying the new books I requested, and every single practical demonstration I suggest is smacked down,” you said, ticking off each infraction on your finger, “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this so please tell me.”

“You haven’t done anything,” she replied, giving you a smile that almost made you take a step back. Why was she smiling at you? Your fingers twitched at your side and you could already see how good they’d look around her neck.

“Then why am I the only one of your teachers unable to conduct my classes as I wish?” you snapped.

“How long have you been teaching here?” she asked.

“I- what?” You had no idea where she was going with this.

“You’ve only been teaching here for a year and in that time you’ve made no fewer than thirty seven requests. While I find your determination admirable, you must understand, these requests are a privilege, not a right,” she said as she slowly stood, “you have not earned them yet.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” you said, seeing the moment you were going to drive off the cliff ahead of you but unable to stop, “Rowena has been working here for hardly a semester and yet you’ve approved her requests. Every. Single. One of them.”

“Are you accusing me of preferential treatment?” Something in her face shifted and you were already wishing for the disconcerting smile back. This was steelier, icier, as if you’d finally punched through the surface and found her own simmering rage beneath. Maybe that’s what you’d wanted to do. Maybe you’d wanted proof she felt anything other than calm when you were around.

“I suppose I am,” you said, not able to stop yourself.

She lent over the desk, both hands flat on the wood, and your heart began to beat double time in your chest. Perhaps going up against the woman who signed your pay slips was not the right move. Not this woman.

“I’d suggest you tread very lightly here,” she said, voice growing dangerously low, “or you may not like the consequences.”

“And what might those be?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. You still couldn’t stop yourself.

“Do not test me,” she warned.

“Or what?”

She growled, actually growled, and your legs trembled. You weren’t expecting the throb between your thighs or the way you suddenly became hyper aware of every little movement of the air around her. Your breathing became heavy, practically panting.

She lent back, stalking around the desk. You stood your ground, refusing to back down. You knew you were right, knew you had a perfectly good leg to stand on. She lent forward, until her breath ghosted across your face. She seemed to be breathing as heavily as you.

“Or you’ll live to regret it.”

“Give me the goddamned class in the quad,” you spat.

“You’re really pushing it,” she warned.

“And you’re being unreasonable!”

You weren’t expecting her lips to crash into yours. You gasped, clutching at her shoulders. You sunk your teeth into her lip, hard enough to draw blood. She growled again, sending another jolt of pleasure right between your legs.

She grasped your hips, pressing you back against the desk. Her tongue swept into your mouth, not giving you the chance to catch your breath. You slid onto the desk, opening your legs to let her step between them. She did, one hand roughly cupping your heat under your skirt, making you whimper. Any control you’d had was gone, slipping through your fingers under her insistent touch.

She sucked your bottom lip into her mouth before letting it go. Her lips trailed down your neck, teeth scraping against skin. They sunk in right at your pulse point just as she pressed against your covered core, finding your clit so easily. You cried out, the pain as pleasurable as the touch. Your blood was boiling and your breath was coming out in short pants.

You clutched at her, thrusting your fingers into her hair as she sucked roughly at your skin. Pins went flying to the floor, hair tumbling down around her shoulders. You clutched at it, tugging, tightening your fist until it was pulling. It only seemed to spur her on.

With delicate fingers she pushed aside your underwear, one finger beginning to circle your clit. You gasped out her name, head falling back, eyes closing. You couldn’t stop, knowing how fucked you were. Never again would you be able to be in this room without thinking of this moment. You hoped it would be the same for her.

She pressed her fingers to your entrance. She paused for a moment, tongue darting out to trace a pattern on your skin. Just as you began to catch your breath she plunged two fingers into you, not needing to worry about how wet you were. You whined as she set a hard and fast pace.

You could feel it, the wave of pleasure threatening to crest. You could almost taste it. Her name was like a prayer on your tongue. She curled her fingers inside you. You moaned, so close, so tantalising close.

And then it all stopped.

She stepped away from you, pulling her hand from between your legs. You could have cried. You wanted to scream at her.

“You want to have class out on the quad?” she asked, her only tell the strain in her voice.

“What?” Your head was hazy.

“Do you or do you not want to conduct your class on the quad?” she asked.

“I do,” you replied, finding it hard to concentrate on the question.

“Then beg.”

You blinked at her, then blinked again. She tilted her head, waiting. Her lipstick was smudged and her eyes were blown wide. You could see your arousal glistening on her long fingers and you had to wonder how the conversation had come to this. You hadn’t even noticed it going down that path.

“You want me to beg for the class?” You still had no idea what was happening, so focused on your own need.

“Only if you want it.” How could she sound so indifferent?

“I do want it,” you replied, not sure which it you were referring to anymore.

“Then you know what to do.”

She waited, so patiently. It took a moment for the words to form on your lips, doing the one thing you’d said you’d never do. But all dignity you had left was thrown out the window with your need.

“Please,” you whispered, surprised at the sting of shame.

“What was that?”

“Please!”

“Now was that so hard?”

You weren’t expecting her to lower herself to her knees between your legs. On strong hand holding your knees open, the other hooked in the waistband of your ruined underwear, pulling it down your leg.

The first lick of her tongue along your slit had your head growing dizzy. You had no control of your hands burying themselves in her hair again. Her name slipped over your lips again as you held her to you.

And she feasted.

It didn’t take much for the wave to crest this time, suspended from her rough touch. It shuddered through your body, taking your breath, leaving nothing but her in your mind. She was all there was.

Only she kept going. Lapping at you, tongue circling your clit, sucking on it until you were trembling. The second orgasm ripped through your body, violent and desperate and so welcome. You thought you might have screamed her name but it was hard to keep track. Your fingers slipped from her hair and she sat back on her heels. She should not have still looked so in unaffected.

She rose to her feet, swiping the back of her hand across her chin. You watched through bleary eyes as she pocketed your underwear. That shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.

“Is that how Rowena got all her requests approved?” you asked, feeling both boneless and hyper aware of your situation.

“Of course not,” she scoffed.

“So?” You weren’t quite sure what you were asking.

“You, my dear, are rather special,” she said, “I knew you’d be such a good girl.”

You’re cheeks burned and the fire within you was relit. No one should be able to have that effect on you. She surprised you with a tender kiss pressed to your lips, the taste of you still lingering on her tongue.

“And if you’d be willing, I’d like to continue this arrangement,” she said.

“Only if next time I get to taste you,” you said, words bold but desperation high.

“I’m sure that could be arranged.”

[rowenas-my-fave-child]

Rowena: *starts clapping after a performance*

Braeden:*starts clapping too*

Rowena: omg you want to be me so bad

Braeden:???

[miggylol]

(All characters were generated by going to Fast Character and hitting random. I then rerolled for a variety of classes and races. A lot. (Optimizing stats did not remotely come into play.))

[whitenight11007]

Ravenclaw headcanons

late nights, EARLY mornings. Survives on coffee, tea, occasionally hot chocolate

the most dedicated readers ever! Will start five books series but knows what’s happening in every single one.

not necessarily great grade students. But tries as hard as heck and could get straight b’s. Loves one study over another, aka has favorites.

loves to stare out the owlery windows at sunrise and sunset. Enjoys the silent castle in the mornings and exploring the generally stayed away from halls.

the common room is definitely not gender ruled. Boys and girls will run in the other dormitories to yell their new idea or freak out about book characters. “We’re all claws, why does gender matter?” Yes obviously they won’t come in if you room says no visitors, they respect others.

I’ve seen a lot of sass talking the eagle knocker. Fully support this with the younger years looking at the older students in awe.

actually swearing a lot cause of where they picked it up in books.

tells slytherins their passwords bc the slytherins will come in for deep late night debates. It gets fierce. Others laughing because they’re debating rocking chairs over straight backed ones.

nyctophilias-huge lovers of the stars and the night sky. The house will all chart the moon and try to all sneak up to the astronomy tower on lunar eclipses.

bibliophiles-lovers of books. If you drop their book, run.

their aesthetic is the sun on a book, curling up in a chair with a friend and a mug of tea, adding notes on newts or owls to the bust of Rowena ravenclaw, laughing at two until your sides hurts, conjuring up a freakin piano to play when others are studying, gasping in complete awe when they see the stars at night, telling other weird random facts, taking pictures of the castle bc of course the ravenclaws have figured out how to get tech on the grounds. Catching the weasley twins in the middle of a prank then laughing and helping them to make it better.

if they dated….

a hufflepuff, it would be the most meaningful relationship ever. Small gifts to each other, friendly games of anything, sharing to each other the secrets of the soul and mind, stargazing with each other, the hufflepuff would help the claw with baking, bc claws are actually really bad at it. The ravens could help them with homework.

a Griffindor, it would be a very playful relationship. They would think up the best pranks together, and none of the teachers know who is responsible. The Griffindor would teach them quidditch and the ravenclaw could (try) to teach them patience. They would fall asleep together from pure exhaustion as they were having a very busy day together. They would eat together and sit together at class no matter house seating

a slytherin, it would be a very deep relationship. It would be talks about their problems at one, or sharing a coffee. They would scheme together and the Griffindors would never get them back. They would walk on the grounds, talking about the meaning of life. At first they were both very nervous around each other. For the ravenclaw, it was the only time life was a mystery. For the slytherin, they couldn’t play it cool and act smart, bc there’s no doubt that the ravenclaw was smarter then them.

being a ravenclaw at hogwarts……..