thewrongsorts--archive - Tumblr blog

[thewrongsorts--archive]

new blog, same idiots — @thewrongsorts–archive​ is now at @thewrongsorts!

harry potter multimuse

mutuals-only / low activity af / selective

written by ya boy brigh

[thewrongsorts--archive]

moving ✨

⟿ @thewrongsorts

[thewrongsorts--archive]

hiatus notice

ya bitch is gonna be bonzo bonkers busy for the holidays! whoops!!

( been thinking lately about doing some blog re-organization and soft reboots, so maybe when i come back i’ll have some snazzy new urls or some shit. )

catch ya in the new year 👉😘 👉

[thewrongsorts--archive]

Harry flying for the first time - with a little help from his dad.

[instagram @potterbyblvnk]

[thewrongsorts--archive]

@bloodtraitortonks1x1 doesn’t believe in library naps

Andromeda muffled a giggle at the sight of Alice asleep on an open book laid on the table. She generally didn’t work herself that hard… maybe she’d been spending a bit too much time with Frank lately.

“Alice?” she said softly, shaking her friend’s shoulder. “I don’t think this is the best place to sleep.”

“—Mmm?” Alice blinked awake and bleary confusion flickered over her face for a moment before she flashed the other girl a smile. She sat up only enough to look more awake, propping her chin on a lazy fist. “I don’t know what you mean. Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi makes a.... wonderful pillow.”

( Andromeda was right, of course. Between the growing political tension lately and Alice’s inability to hold her tongue most of their school career, there was a good enough handful of students she probably shouldn’t’ve been giving the easy opportunity to mess with her. )

“Thanks,” she added, a little more seriously, through a tiny yawn. “...What time ’s it?”

[thewrongsorts--archive]

Find something you want to die for more than something you want to live for.

The Becoming of Noah Shaw, Michelle Hodkin (via lostintowords)

[thewrongsorts--archive]

worth12malfoys‌ :

There were certainly enough good causes to volunteer for these days. Lots of lives to rebuild. Including his own. “I should go see her,” he said quietly. “Maybe… maybe soon…” Somehow, he thought she’d be the hardest person to visit again. Gran with her high, high standards. She’d come to be quite proud of him, he knew that, but… god, he must have disappointed her so badly by running away. Proper Gryffindors don’t run away.

“People kept stopping me in the streets.” The remark came rather abruptly, almost bubbling out of me. “Asking if I was really him, if I was really Longbottom. The one who finished it. ‘S’why I grew this,” he explained, patting his beard. “Thought it’d help. I don’t… always want to talk about it. Y’know?” Though he desperately did want to talk about it. Just not with strangers.

‘Really him.’ She half-froze before blinking back up at him, studying his face. For a moment, Alice couldn’t help wondering at how different he did look, even if she knew that was beside the point. ( Not half as unfamiliar a face as she’d found herself staring into five years ago, she supposed. ) 

Five years ago, she’d been desperate to avoid saying ‘Yes, thank you,’ to anyone who’d’ve tried to give their best wishes to the terribly brave auror recovering from their infamous attack. Lately she was just numb to anyone who recognized Neville Longbottom’s mother.

Maybe she did know, better than she could articulate.

“Yeah,” Alice admitted softly, still searching his expression. “You...” she added, slowly, a little uncertain, “You deserve to ... choose when you want to talk.”

[thewrongsorts--archive]

I’m so tired of breaking myself into bite sized pieces

[thewrongsorts--archive]

Well that’s what happens - but you adapt, don’t you? You look at what’s changed and you find a way to own it.

[thewrongsorts--archive]

@creeveyed​​​ is on the run

“It’s… not all bad, really.” Dennis pulled his legs up onto the seat with him, hugging his knees to his chest. “I’d rather be waiting here than running around out there.”

“Waiting here while the ‘stronger’ wizards—”

Midway through the thought, Fleur turned back from where she’d been bustling restlessly through the kitchen and trailed off at the sight of him — curled so tightly into himself, he looked smaller than ever. The sudden reminder of how young their guests were brought her up short.

It was understandable to bemoan the uselessness she felt to her husband. Unacceptable, though, to put her tirade on this boy.

"Mais.... Laisse tomber," she mumbled mostly to herself, with a softness that hadn’t existed in her a moment ago.

“We are glad to give you refuge here.”

[thewrongsorts--archive]

Being a good person is a choice. Don’t let people fool you into believing that truly good people never have bad thoughts, are never tempted by the easier path, by the low road, never mess up or act out selfishly. Never believe a person can be good without making a conscious effort.

Every single time you do something good, you’ve made a decision to make the world a little brighter.

Goodness is not an inherent trait, it is a choice. Keep making it! I see you, I’m proud of you, and I’m rooting for you!

[thewrongsorts--archive]

[thewrongsorts--archive]

@cybersquib​​’s ravenclaw bab is just as bad as charlie’s

“Oh, definitely eaten. By something really rare and dangerous, like a basilisk. Then you at least get to see it close up before you go. How many people can say that?”

“Teeth-first into a once-in-a-lifetime view!” Pru crowed, leaning back and pulling her feet up under her.  ( The dorm sofa was soft enough that the ankle she’d wrecked during the weekend’s quidditch match almost didn’t twinge. ) “Love it.”

“You know they ’ve barbs down their jaw and part of their throat, to drag food down closer to their stomach? Since they can’t really swallow like we do, and so much ’f their diet’s petrified— That would be a helluva sight.”

She clicked her tongue. “Guess the real trick would be not looking it in the eyes before it snapped you up.”

[thewrongsorts--archive]

Family isn’t always blood. It’s the people in your life who want you in theirs. The ones who accept you for who you are.

unknown ( via smallofyourback )

[thewrongsorts--archive]

licnbcrn‌ :

Any argument he could have brought up ( which he didn’t, thankfully ) would have been an argument she’d had a dozen times before. She was coming up with less and less reasons to stay friends with Severus; nostalgia and the hope that he would see the light, so to speak, weren’t enough. 

It was a realization she was having a hard time coming to turns with, desperate to hold onto some semblance of the home she no longer had. Her parents were gone, her sister hated her – Severus was the last shred of her childhood that she had. Forgive her for not wanting to let it go. 

Still, James didn’t mention that and neither did she – an argument for another time. Instead, he did that thing he always did, where he exaggerates even the most mundane, makes it into a very large, very entertaining, production. Larger than life, that was James Potter. 

He almost got a smile out of her, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards for just a second, before her lips thinned and she folded her arms across her chest. 

“All right, Shakespeare,” she said incredulously, raising an eyebrow at him, before shaking her head. Even though she sounded just as exasperated with him, her gaze softened a bit. She sighed, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. 

 “You’re lucky you make History of Magic interesting, or I’d hex you right off, you know.” 

“No you wouldn’t.” Maybe he said it with a little too much self-satisfaction, but hey — he was glad they were friends. There were worse things he could be ( and absolutely had been ) a smug little shite about.

James shot a cheery grin back at her stifled smile and shook his head with a shrug. “History of Magic is interesting. When you aren’t hearing it out of Binns, anyhow,” he added before she could get in. “It’s just stories, you know?”

He wouldn’t pretend he really cared about History of Magic, especially not as much as their more practical classes, but it could be entertaining to flip through the books and take potshots at their forebears. ( If he were more philosophical, maybe he’d think about trying to learn something from their mistakes, too. )

“But it’s good you’ll admit we make a good study group.”

We make a good team in a lot of things.

[thewrongsorts--archive]

straighten our backs & we won’t be afraid ,

THEWRONGSORTS  |  a wizarding multi-muse by brigh semi-selective / mutuals only / sideblog to @invelleity / please read rules

and they’ll celebrate our deaths with a national parade

[thewrongsorts--archive]

cybersquib‌ :

“Right. And castle isn’t an exaggeration. It is an actual castle, in Scotland?” He supposed castles had been re-purposed into stranger things than wizarding schools, though any specific examples escaped him.

“It’s just – I’ve seen some of the things Nora can do on her own, usually without even meaning to. And this school is going to put large groups of kids just like her into a secluded castle, together.” He couldn’t imagine how the place didn’t just… explode. “It is safe there, right?”

“’Course, yeah.” He didn’t seem particularly bothered about Bishop’s concerns, despite his best effort at a sympathetic grin. “Everyone wouldn’t send their children if it wasn’t.”

( Well — and if there were other real options... His stomach twisted at the memory of the look on his baby sister’s face the first time he’d seen her after her sixth year. Hogwarts would be safe for Pru and Nora, absolutely, but Midge would carry the terror of her first year with her for the rest of her life... )

Charlie shook his head and forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes anymore. What had he been saying? “It’s easier to manage accidental magic as you get older, and the professors mostly keep troublemakers from getting too out of hand.”