#guys im tweaking writing this ive never been more afraid in my life

[boxdstars]

Terrible Deals and Better Company

This little drabble is dedicated to @damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog who's work is absolutely incredible, both her writing and her character interpretations and narratives. I've been dying to write something within this verse, canon or not - I hope you enjoy!

This fic is entirely self indulgent, and is mostly banter between Ominis and Amara (with background Ominis x f!MC) as an exploration of their adult characters

This fic probably won't make a whole lot of sense without reading THIS first, as it was my muse and explains the conflict.

Word count: 2.1k

The journey had been ghastly. Awful was quite the understatement. There was no easily accessible portkey from England to the States, at least none that he’d been familiar with. No doubt there was something tucked away within the Ministries walls themself, but he wasn’t privy to those secrets. So Ominis had to defer to the muggle ways of travel. By boat. Even the word hellish felt too kind to refer to the voyage, which had made him queasy the entire time, and entirely dependent on quick charms to alleviate the nausea.

But he was here now. In the office of the Chief Auror herself. The Magical Congresses up-and-coming pride and joy. But before she was all of that, she was the nuisance who pestered him throughout her time at Hogwarts. And his friend too, of course.

“You look awful,” Amara remarked bluntly. “Merlin’s sake, how come I haven’t seen you in four years? I wish you’d write more candidly, I knew it was bad but…” There was the click of a lighter, and the sound of her breath as she pulled a cigar to her lips, “This is something else entirely. When’s the last time you slept?”

“Last night.” 

“You know what I mean. Slept well. Anything more than six hours?”

He mulled it over, brows furrowing as he did so. Though he’d always had a penchant for napping.. six whole hours of uninterrupted peaceful sleep felt wholly unobtainable. His wife was such a dear, but even her warmth felt so far away in lieu of recent happenings. Though it was scarcely the truth, and despite their best efforts the pervasive anxieties never seemed to fade entirely.

“I can’t recall.”

“You’ve gotten worse at lying I see.” Her lips curled upward into an impish smirk. “Try again.”

There was no point in beating around the bush. She’d called him across the sea for some catching up, and he might as well get the kneazle out of the bag. He sighed in defeat and pulled out several sheets of bound parchment from within his inner coat pocket. 

“Here.”

_

Amara skimmed the pages a thousand times over. Ominis sat across from her, his unseeing eyes ghosting just adjacent to where she sat at her desk. No longer did she don her blazer, only clad in her suspenders, pinstripe trousers, and her white dress shirt whose sleeves were pulled up high above her forearms, resting at her elbows. Her legs crossed over the ornate desk, occasionally bouncing to a rhythm only she could hear. 

“Nasty business.” Amara sat the parchment down. “Figures, with the Ministry. I keep my business with them cut and dry for this very reason.” 

“I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. I did what I had to.”

“Ease up, I’m not accusing you of anything. Given the circumstances... I’d say you didn’t do too shabby. How’d the wife take all of this?”

“Not.. well.” He faltered. The twinge of regret flickered across his already furrowed brow. It was a classic Ominis expression, one Amara had seen many a time while the blond stewed over his potions cauldron. In a way, she missed it — if not for the circumstances.

“Just as I thought.” She tapped her cigar atop the ashtray before taking another languid drag. “Can’t say I blame her either. The whole thing is a damned mess. I take it she isn’t all too pleased?”

His wife was the interesting sort, Amara remembered her fondly back from their tenure at Hogwarts. Albeit their relationship was a bit strained to start, the girl had been headstrong, reckless, and irritatingly sharp at times. But that was a long time ago, and they hardly wrote to one another these days, except the snippets mentioned in passing from her letters to Natsai.

“It’s more complicated than that. For the time being... I think it’s going to be alright. But this arrangement.. as much as I stand by my word and my choice… part of me worries if it’s going to cause more harm than good.”

That caused her interest to pique tenfold. “Because of the workload no doubt?”

“Something to that effect, yes.” Ominis was holding back, which was of little surprise to her. They were friends, but she’d need to sweeten the pot with a few more drinks before he would start speaking candidly. Still, the fact he was telling her anything was enough to satiate her curiosity for the time being. 

Amara whistled long and low, “The old brass has got you both working to the bone.”

He nodded dismally. It was no wonder Ominis seemed so quiet. He’d always been distant back in school, but where the two of them were concerned, the banter and snark were nothing short of rambunctious. She was staring at a man now, slightly haggard from the anxiety that hung over him.

The auror exhaled a long plume of smoke from her mouth, “I could get you out of this, you know. No physical contact.. no written terms… seems like it’s just itching for someone to dig their claws and tear it all to shreds.”

“Amara…” Ominis warned. He had no doubt his friend was sincere about this as she was shrewd. But even her power base, influential as it may be, was newly established. The connections were there, but they weren’t centuries old. Getting him out of a Ministry agreement was one thing, finding a solution to the wicked nature of his family was another. 

“What? I have more Galleons to my name in just my left pinky than your family has combined! It would be no trouble.“

“It’s you. Of course, there’d be trouble.”

Amara scoffed. “That's beside the point. And it’s not like I don’t know how to take care of myself, honestly, you’re not giving me credit here. It would be quite simple.”

“I disagree..” He spoke tersely under his breath.

“..You’d have to uproot and bring your missus overseas.. but once you’re in our jurisdiction you’d be in good company. No tiresome busywork, no Ministry-sanctioned duties, and not a single Gaunt on your back—“

“Amara.” His voice hardened, turning stern. “You’re not listening.” 

She quickly shot back, “Stop calling me that, you’re in my office.”

“You’re the one acting impetuously. Let me finish first, I’m not denying any of your achievements.”

Impetuous. She gnawed at the inside of her lip. The audacity of the blond knew no bounds. Part of her wanted to refute the word, the other knew if she said anything more she’d only be proving him right. 

“Alright.. speak.” 

He sighed, rubbing one thumb over the other. A nervous tick. Had it been so long he’d started doing that around her again? 

“You are tenacious, yes. And Merlin knows there’s nothing that can stop you from getting what you want. But my family — they’re not the same thing. This is bigger than that.”

She just couldn’t help herself, “How? I'm not some useless receptionist, I'm Chief Auror! And  — and you’re married to well — her of all people! Just between the three of us, we could turn them to dust!”

His voice raised, “That’s the problem. That's what you don’t understand, that you could never understand. You can’t just throw Galleons at the problem until it goes away. And you aren’t going to threaten them either!”

“I’d wager I’d win.” She scoffed. “It’d be a waste of time.”

“Let’s not take that chance then.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

The silence was terse, but at least this was familiar. Many a fight had ended in this way, as the two former Slytherins would skulk off to their respective quarters. There was nowhere to hide now, and Amara swallowed the lump in her throat. Arguing was pointless, this was all so exceedingly pointless. She couldn’t win Ominis over today, but admitting that was admitting defeat. So she reveled in the silence, her gaze transfixed on the trails of smoke she exhaled every so often.

“I know you mean well.” His voice was soft now, melancholy even. “I know you’re just trying to do what’s right, in your own horrible way.”

Did he have to throw that in there? Damn him. Still, his words seemed sincere enough so Amara let it linger in hopes he’d continue. 

“It would never work. The situation is grave, it wasn’t as if this deal was thrust upon me. I had to fight with everything I had to protect her. And you must know she’d never agree to it, even less so than our current arrangements. She’ll defend our home with everything she has, no matter how tempting your real estate may be.”

At least he was starting to joke again.

“You’re a match made in heaven, the both of you. Unfathomably stubborn.” 

The clock ticked onward, and they sat there again, rotting away in their thoughts. Really, that was the last thing either of them should be doing. Amara had to do something, say anything. A sidelong glance at her expansive liquor bar seemed to be the timely distraction they needed.

“I think I need a drink after all that, you game?”

He looked as though he were about to refuse. But then, to her immense delight, Ominis nodded. She poured the liquor into two glasses, making sure to fill his a bit more than her own. Maybe it'd help ease his nerves. With a wave of her wand, she slid the glass across the desk and onto his side. The sickly sweet smell of brandy filled the room as he took a long whiff off the top of the glass. 

“Are you going to make love to that thing or should I pour it back in?” Her blunt words caught him off guard and caused his face to flush in embarrassment.

“As always, you’re obnoxious.” He snarked and took a long sip. “Well, I’ll say it. Not bad.”

To his chagrin, it was better than he’d hoped it would be. Ominis had sorely wished he could’ve found something to nag her over, but her alcohol was clearly not the case. Besides, the last thing the Chief Auror needed was him swelling up her ego any more than MACUSA already had. 

“Always delighted that my liquor pleases you, M’lord.” Amara joked wryly. The banter was coming easier now, and some of the visible tension from his forehead began to dissipate. 

The bustling enterprise within the Manhattan landscape seemed oddly quaint from within her outcropping. There was the occasional shuffling and clink of glass and the distant tune of far-off classical from.. someone indiscernible.

“It’ll be alright, Ominis.” She spoke after a few blissful seconds. “I swear it. And should anything happen, you know you can call on me.”

“I know.” He twirled the brandy around his glass, “I know if there’s one woman more hellbent on justice than even my wife, it’s you. As strange as all of this is to even consider, I’ll take that to heart. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Let’s hope.” She leaned over and clinked her glass thusly against his own. “And I mean.. there’s always Sebastian. Though Godric knows what heinous mischief he’s up to at the moment.”

That garnered her a small chuckle from his end. “Whatever it is, he’s probably having more fun than the both of us.”

“Speak for yourself, I’m having a ball!” She scoffed playfully. 

“As am I.” 

That was quite a compliment. She inquisitively glanced him up and down, regardless of the fact he wouldn’t notice. But the statement seemed in earnest. In truth, it wasn’t all that rare these days in their friendship, but it still felt like she’d been doused in the freezing depths of the Black Lake.

“Don’t tell me you’re finally fond of me after all.”

Another laugh. “Oh don’t be absurd, the only reason I came mincing across the sea was to pilfer off of your liquor.”

She gave a mock gasp of dismay. “Absolutely not! I’m going to send you away at once, do you even know how much this cost me?”

“Do I want to know?”

“..Probably not.” Her voice pitched slightly in embarrassment, losing the cool confident edge she’d been carrying throughout the bulk of the conversation. 

He snickered at that, “I better get my golds worth, fill me up another won’t you?”

Amara grinned, "It would be my pleasure."

[smolslothloaf]

Yo as the only Micheal Crew fan (prolly), can I just say I’m so fucking salty that he died how he did?

Homeboy’s been hinted at since the fourth episode in this entire goddamn series, he’s been repeatedly connected to the Leitner books (which I guess are less important now that we’ve met Jurgen Leitner and we’ve got Gerard but uggggghhhh), he’s got a cool lightning scar and backstory and everything!

And once we get to meet him? He’s so intriguing-he ‘s polite even as he forces Jon to just fall through the air, he has a great voice (both literally and writing wise), and once he explains his backstory it doesn’t dissapoint. You get the image of this scared child whose been searching for protection and meaning his whole life. This creature’s been following him ever since he’s gotten his lightning scar, you kinda get that it’s the personification of his past even if he connects it all back to the Vast. To an extent, he kinda describes his relationship with his scar and his journey in self discovery all as both finding meaning and acceptance in the Vast. The moment he figures out what’s been calling to him is also the moment he accepts his past and his trauma. It all makes sense and comes together.

What I also find particularly interesting the way he laments about never being able to remember the most important events of his life, as I feel it’s something we all can relate to. Traumatic or not, negative or positive, many of us have trouble recalling the most life-changing events of our lives. We feel frustrated over this, we beat ourselves up for it, it’s just apart of life. In Mike’s statement this is such a small detail but it’s one that resonates with me deeply.

They set up Micheal Crew in such an engaging light and make him feel so real. I will admit that I’m not sure how much more they could do with him as this episode tied up pretty much all loose ends in his story. That being said, I would’ve absolutely LOVED to see more of him! He has an intruging personality, a cool backstory, he could’ve been a neat reaccuring character or something.

But no! Daisy Fucking Tonner just needsa bust down the fucking door and be like “YO THIS BITCH HUMAN?” And Jon’s like “uhhh ig not” and Daisy’s like “WELL THAT MEANS HES GONNA CATCH THESE HANDS.” AND JUST FUCKING SHOOTS HIM???

FUCK THAT NOISE.

YOU BUILD UP A CHARACTER OVER THE COURSE OF THREE SEASONS, WE MEET HIM AND HE GIVES US HIS LIFE STORY, THERES STILL SOME ROOM FOR HIM TO GIVE US ANSWERS OR SOME SHIT, THEN YOU HAVE THE A U D A C I T Y TO JUST YEET DAISY IN AND HAVE HER SHOOT HIM OUTSIDE?

O K A Y

LIKE,,, IG THEY NEEDED TO SET UP DAISY’S STORY AND GET MICHEAL OUT OF THE STORY OR SOME SHIT BUT. NOT LIKE THIS PLEASE?? IM FULLY WILLING TO ACCEPT THAT IM JUST UNREASONABLY SALTY ABOUT THIS BUT SERIOUSLY?? SHE JUST. SHOWS UP. SHOOTS HIM. THREATENS JON. BITCHES FOR AWHILE AND WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE OKAY WITH IT?

MICHEALS NOT EVEN BROUGHT UP AFTER THAT HE KINDA JUST GOT SHOVED TO THE SIDE FOR IMPORTANT PEOPLE PLOT(tm). HE GETS. PUSHED. TO. THE. SIDE. IN. HIS OWN. FUCKING, EPISODE. WASNT JON GONNA QUESTION HIM MORE? WASNT THAT WHY JON WAS THERE? I MEAN I GUESS HE COULDNT CUZ MICHEAL COULDDA DEFO KILLED HIM, BUT HE DIDNT EVEN DROP ANY BREAD CRUMBS FOR JON’S INVESTIGATION. JON LITERALLY GOT JACK SHIT FROM THAT INTERACTION ASIDES FOR MORE FUEL FOR HIS STATEMENT KINK. AS FAR AS THE PLOT’S CONCERNED, JON DIDN’T NEED THE CONTENTS OF MIKE’S STATMENT. THE KNOWELDGE WAS GOOD BUT HE GOT NO FURTHER ON HIS INVESTIGATION OF THE STRANGER. HE WAS DIRECTED TO MIKES DOOR FOR THE PLOT BUT THE PLOT AINT THERE, THE PLOTS AT DAISYS HOUSE

TO REVIEW:

THEY

DEADASS

JUST

THREW MICHEAL CREW IN THERE

HAD HIM EXPLAIN HIS BACKSTORY

THEN KILLED HIM OFF

AFTER HYPING HIM UP

FOR

THREE

FUCKING

SEASONS

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???

ARE YOU ACTUALLY FUCKING KIDDING ME???

YA KNOW THATS PROLLY THE ONE BIG BONE IVE GOTTA PICK WITH THIS SHOW. THEY BUILD UP INTERESTING CHARACTERS OVER THE COURSE OF FULL SEASONS, THEN THEY’RE ONLY GIVEN THEIR TIME TO SHINE FOR ONE EPISODE BEFORE BEING ADRUPTLY KILLED OFF AND NEVER MENTIONED AGAIN. I HEARD IT GETS BETTER BUT ITS A PRETTY BIG PROBLEM FOR THE FIRST TWO SEASONS.

JANE PRENTISS COULDDA BEEN COOL! AND SHE WAS COOL! BUT SHE ONLY ACTUALLY DID SHIT FOR ONE EPISODE THEN WAS KILLED WITH LITTLE RESISTANCE. SHE DIDNT EVEN MAKE A COMEBACK OR ANYTHING, THEY REALLY JUST WENT “THAT BITCH DEAD AND DID JACK SHIT” AFTER HYPING HER UP THE WHOLE SEASON. LIKD OKAY SURE GO OFF. THEYRE BUILDING UP BREEKON AND HOPE A BIT MORE NOW, CANT WAIT FOR THEM TO BE KILLED OFF AS SOON AS WE MEET THEM.

LIKE I GET IT I GET IT. MICHEALS STORY WAS COMPLETE. NOT EVERY CHARACTER NEEDS TO BE PLOT RELEVANT. NOT EVERY CHARACTER THATS BUILT UP NEEDS AN ELABORATE PLOT. NOT EVERY CHARACTER NEEDS A SATISFYING SEND OFF.

BUT IM STILL FUCKING MAD ABOUT IT CUZ I FEEL NOTHING. I LOVED HIS STATEMENT AND IT WOULD’VE JUST BEEN FINE IF MICHEAL WAS JUST LEFT ALONE AFTER THAT OR SOMETHING. OR HELL HE EVEN COULD’VE BEEN KILLED IN A DIFFERENT WAY I JUST HATE HOW DAISY CAME IN THERE OUT OF BUTTFUCK NO WHERE, SHOT A GUY SHE BARELY KNEW CUZ “he spoopy” AND ITS JUST NEVER BROUGHT UP. MIKE DIDNT EVEN NEED TO BE THERE. JON WENT THERE FOR ANSWERS, MIKE GAVE HIM NOTHING CUZ INSTEAD OF HAVING AN INTERESTING LITTLE CONVERSATION, DAISY NEEDED HER CHARACTER ARC. IM REPEATING MYSELF AT THIS POINT BUT IM JUST SO FUCKING ANGY ABOUT THIS.

FUCK DAISY, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I am fully aware that I’ll wake up tomorrow and deem all of this as invalid and unreadable, I just needed to get this all off my chest. In all honesty the main reason I’m upset is because the Vast is my personal favorite entity and Micheal’s statement is a good summation of why

People affected by the Vast are just that-people. Well, all statement givers are people, but the Vast’s statments I find are much more grounded and down to Earth. They aren’t as out there or over the top like the Corruption or the Stranger. They’re just little ‘tweaks’ in someone’s perspective that shakes their core. It takes mundane occurances and pushes them to their extreme. All the Vast did in “High Pressure” was make someone feel as though they were sinking forever and forced them underwater. It’s some you could probably picture happening to yourself more clearly then say, being attacked by War Ghosts. (NOT bashing on War Ghosts btw, they’re just a different brand of spooky.) The type of fear that the Vast victims have is also kinda different to me. I’m not sure how well I can explain it but best I can describe it is that it feels like geunine trauma that someone with that phobia would experience? I still don’t think that’s quite right but take “A Long Way Down” for instance, where the statement giver’s brother suffers from Acrophobia. That’s a real boy with Acrophobia! I feel who he is as an actual person as I follow his life, I know his worst nightmare, and once you see what happens to him, you completely feel both from him and his brother. Or in “Freefall” where you see a mother mourn for her son’s trauma and death. She saw something he loved suddenly turn him so, so afraid then saw the very thing he feared swallow him up.

It’s just any average person greiving their loved one’s trauma or being pushed to a limit you can see yourself being pushed to. It’s all very grounded in reality and makes it all feel that more real. And I feel like Micheal Crew’s statement just summed that up so well. He’s such a perfect face for what I love about the Vast. He’s just a person at his core, who was scared and needed guidance.

It’s just that the way it ended and how adruptly he was killed left a sour taste in my mouth.

[n1ghtm3ds]

Classrooms Should Not Be A “Safe Space”

There should be no classroom where a student feels unwelcome for trying to learn and better themselves.  Especially in areas like racial/cultural/gender studies, these should be places of LEARNING not just regurgitating what you all already agree with.  Let people ask questions.  Let people get it wrong and correct them.  

Sophomore year, I joined a sociology class that required no prerequisites or major (aka a beginner class open to everybody) and was really excited and open to the fact that it was run by the Black Studies department because I thought “wow, something other than the white upper class sociology professor, cool.”  When I got there, I was the only white person, and one of three non-black people.  All the students appeared to know the professor already from other classes, who gave off that “cool guy” vibe by opening his classes with music videos and saying ‘fuck’ a lot.  I mentioned him to a friend who had taken a class with him before and knew him as a person (she was black) and she advised I drop the class right away.  I thought she was saying this because the class itself was hard, but when I asked her, shed taken a different class and still advised me to drop it.  We were reading “All the Women Are White, All the Blacks Are Men, But Some of Us Are Brave” which is an amazing book and I was really into the class so I didn’t.  

I sensed some hostility from the professor building until one day I got up to go to the bathroom and he started yelling “You have no respect, you think you can just come and go you don’t respect the class or me” and I profusely apologized and explained that the Disability Resource Center should have sent him a letter that I was on medication and would likely need to use the restroom once or more per class.  I went to the restroom and took all my stuff and left crying (Im REALLY bad about being yelled at by authority figures) and one of the boys followed me out and was another person who told me, concerned, “Drop the class”.  I had to keep the class to have a full-time schedule or I couldnt live on campus so I had no other option by that point in the semester.

A few weeks later, I was reading along on my laptop (which id brought to every previous class, as my disability accommodations allowed it) and he thought i wasnt paying attention so he came by me and slammed a textbook to the ground next to me as hard as he could.  Im autistic, and the loud noise startled me and I started sniffling and he grabbed my laptop really roughly by the screen so the bottom part was hanging, saw that i was reading along, and then dropped it back on my desk with no apology.  I had a panic attack and left the class and, according to somebody who stayed, changed the topic of the day to my “white fragility” and that I was a “crying white woman” (which like technically yea but i wasnt crying because white guilt or being called racist I was crying because I was autistic and startled with a sudden loud noise which is a major trigger).

There were other smaller incidents (he had a major problem with my absences and took them personally even though i have a chronic illness and was absent from every class just the same, I even went out of my way to try to get to his because I was so afraid of him by then).  There was a time where we were talking about drugs and he asked a question about “what drug can get you a life sentence in jail” and I answered “LSD” because there had recently been a case in the news of exactly that happening and so of course I thought he was referring to that and was looking forward to finally getting something right.  How he corrected me: “This girl, again.  Black people don’t DO acid”.  Then he went on to talk about the crack epidemic and i was like oh that makes sense but what I said wasnt wrong?  

He was yelling at me “Do you ever pay any attention?  You barely even show up.  You probably expect me to hand you an A just for taking this class”.  This was at the end of class, and I said to him (crying, again, because i cant talk to ‘real adults’ without melting down) that I had autism and ADHD, that they were both on file with the DRC, and he said my learning disorder and disability were excuses that white people used “to give a head start to their lazy children” and that it was “entitled” of me to ask that my accommodations be respected because my disability was really just white laziness and he made a really good point about how black kids are less likely to be diagnosed with learning disabilities and are treated as behavioral cases which yeah 100% correct but he used it as a way to say “these disabilities dont really exist” not “these disabilities are under-diagnosed in certain communities”.

The final straw was my midterm paper.  I wrote on the book I mentioned above, a really good paper that I worked really hard on that met all the requirements of the rubric.  It came back to me marked C- without any notes or corrections on it, while everybody else had red writing all over their pages.  I mentioned it to my friend who had taken his class before and she said “Oh, he wont give the white kids higher than a C-, its the lowest grade he can give without having to cite a reason.  Hes bragged about it” (she knew him on a personal level, like been-to-his-house-for-dinner personal).  So I ripped the paper up and never went back to his class and just let him fail me for attendance.  It was the first class I ever failed.

The entire time I was trying to learn, I was treated like an outsider.  This was not the BSU or the African Heritage Society or any place where I should have been treated any different than any other student (those places would have been well right to reject me as those are not my spaces).  This was an entry-level classroom, but to the professor I did not belong there even though I paid the same tuition as my classmates.  Every question was treated as hostile.  Every mistake was a personal insult. Ive seen the same thing happen in my women’s lit classes or feminist-related sociology classes done to male students, although I can only speak to my own experiences, its distressing for EVERYBODY in the room, not just the person the professor targets.  

If you are in a classroom in good faith willing to learn, you belong in that classroom.  Professors who act otherwise do nothing but scare people who want to learn away from knowledge (I was afraid to take any classes that overlapped with the Black Studies department after that until my senior year when I took a literature class that overlapped, which was lovely and I learned a lot because the professor was interested in teaching).  There are clubs, student unions, etc that are wonderful to serve as a safe space and a space that excludes those outside of the community but the classroom, where we all pay the same to be, can NOT be a “safe space”.  Classrooms, if anything, should be a DANGEROUS space full of ideas and feedback that threaten the world view you walked in with.

IDK mostly this is just venting about a shitty professor because Im tweaking but yeah him and this lady I took a “women in drama” class with were two of the worst professors in existence and you shouldn’t take pride in making somebody afraid to learn.  IDK.  I feel like these kind of classes can really bring out abusive personality types because it is somehow implicit that there are some students you are allowed to abuse and take the high road if you get called on it (a MAN complaining about his FEMALE teacher in a class on WOMEN automatically looks bad).  IDK.  Abusive teachers are real and do real damage.