#ms pansy

[pinkcandycatmakesart]

Here is my new OC! Her name is Ms. Pansy (Full name: Miss Pansy T. Wright) the poodle and was based on the fox lady from Unicorn Warriors Eternal because of her inspired fancy outfit. She is wearing a purple hat and purple and pink dress and a light pink umbrella. Anyways, she isn't evil. She is kind and very loving. She is one of my British OCs (alongside with William the Blue Whale)

In case if you don't know about her inspiration. Watch this:

[poorly-drawn-ace-attorney]

narumitsu week day 2: flowers

[4-leaf]

internet dogs

[chaselocalyanderefan]

Drawing Internet Horror Characters for a Year

Day 54:

Poochie & Pansy

[custardcove]

Baby Games

[reasonsforhope]

"In west England, a series of hills cloaked in heather and wildflowers are the target of a national restoration project that is already seeing success.

Similar to the story GNN reported on last week about the rewilding along the south coast and South Downs National Park, Sussex, volunteers are seeding old hay fields with native wildflowers and replanting traditional hedgerows to ensure wildlife can move freely through the region.

The region is called the Shropshire Hills, which by British law is designated an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, and is managed and controlled so this beauty can endure. But while the area is indeed beautiful, the valley between the sections of hills known as Long Mynd and Stiperstones has for decades been under heavy hay cultivation, with farmers plowing up meadows and planting fast-growing commodity grasses.

As part of a project by the UK’s National Trust called Stepping Stones, volunteers have been working with landowners and local councils to turn some of these meadows back over to the wildlife, creating corridors of habitat to allow species like the bilberry bumblebee, pine marten, and curlews to move freely from hilltop to valley floor and back to hilltop.

Charlie Bell, project manager for Stepping Stones, told the BBC that the project is one part of an overall mission that aims to restore 97% of meadows that have been lost in the UK over the last 100 years.

“Many old meadows have been plowed up and re-seeded with more productive mixes of grasses,” she told the national broadcaster. “Fertilizers are often added to increase the growth of these dominant productive grasses, at the expense of finer grass species and wildflowers.”

Jinlye Meadows, on the Long Mynd side of the valley, is now thriving with native wildflower species like mountain pansy, and volunteers have recorded the area is thriving with bilberry bumblebees which are rare and in decline.

In particular, the meadows were covered last year in yellow rattle, also known as the “meadowmaker,” a key part of Ms. Bell’s strategy for restoring meadows. This native species attaches itself to the roots of grasses, slowing, but not sabotaging, their growth. This allows not only the flower to grow, but space for all manner of other flowers to grow as the grasses’ growth is [slowed down]."

-Article via Good News Network, July 11, 2024. Video via NT Midlands, June 19, 2023.

[hurtspideyparker]

Emotional Support Intern Peter Parker

Tony and Peter finally arrive in the large room, polished leather Oxfords and stained-lace Converse making their way through the crowd of professionals. Tony has a hand on Peter's back guiding him, because no matter how many meetings, conferences, and office buildings they traverse together, Peter always manages to get lost the second Tony lets go. 

Thankfully Pepper is easy to spot, shaking hands with some blah blah from wee woo Industries. Her hair is the only splash of colour in the constant white black grey of everyone's pencil skirts and collared shirts. 

"Hi Ms. Potts!" Peter greets as soon as the woman turns and spots them. 

"Hi Peter—Tony. I told you to stop bringing the kid to these things. No offense Peter."

"None taken! You look lovely, did you get your hair done?"

Pepper's hair cascades over her shoulder in perfect curls, splayed out over her white button-up. 

"Yes actually, a trim and some highlights. I think she went shorter than I asked though, because I always get half an inch, and this does not look like half an inch."

Peter steps a bit closer and squints at the piece of copper hair she's holding out. 

"I think it's just because she curled it. You usually get it blow dried after."

"Hm. I think you're right actually."

Tony rolls his eyes, "I'm so glad you guys are having such a great slumber party. C'mon kid I have to avoid that senator and he's starting to glance this way." He tries to head over to some tall plants that happen to be great blind spots. 

"Ah ah ah Tony! We are talking about this. I told you to stop dragging Peter to all of your work responsibilities. I'm sure he's bored to death with these meetings and work events."

"Pep, he's an intern, he's supposed to be bored and taken advantage of. Besides, if you take away my emotional support intern then I simply wouldn't show up! So."

"You aren't even paying him for his time!" Pepper says at the same time Peter mumbles "emotional support intern?"

"Um excuse me, that 3 million dollar suit he stuffs between his math homework and Go-Gurt begs to differ. And anyways, I pay him with experience. I brought him to that seminar in LA on Saturday, and he's following me to Tokyo for that week long conference in July. I highly doubt he's complaining," he squeezes the boy's shoulders, Peter looking up and beaming at him and Pepper. 

"I'm really fine with it Ms. Potts. Besides, the more of these things I go to the more lab time I get!" Peter pipes in.

Pepper glares at Tony. "Really, bribery?" 

"Okay well, if us grown adults don't want to be here how else am I supposed to get a 15 year old to talk about environmental reform to people who don't even believe in climate change." 

Pepper and Tony hold each other's stares.

"You mean he spoke to Mr. Ellis about the generator you designed for his carbon plant, and it didn't end with him calling us a pansy corporation and you calling him a decrepit geezer who's business is the only thing that's going to die quicker than he is?"

There's barely stiffled hope supressed under Pepper's professionalism. 

Tony smirks. "Yep, I think Mr. Ellis even smiled. The kid's got charm! Who knew."

Pepper glances at Peter in consideration. 

"Peter have you ever considered pursuing anything further in business? Engineering is great, but if you really want to be successful it's incredibly important to build interpersonal skills, leadership, and even current market and finance knowledge. I mean you might want to sell your designs one day, or start a company." 

"Oh, I haven't really-"

"You could shadow me! I mean interning with a CEO is a once in a lifetime opportunity, it would give you a glowing resume, and I know a lot more about this stuff than Tony. He didn't even perform his executive duties when he actually was the CEO."

Pepper has that gleam in her eyes, the one she gets when men call her sweetheart, or when Tony isn't even dressed for their reservation that started ten minutes ago. 

It means she's already had the argument in her head. 

Peter is still stuttering, flustered with this side of Pepper. Her business face isn't usually directed at him, and it's a far cry from the woman who sends him home with leftovers from dinner. 

"Wait wait wait, are you trying to steal my intern?" Tony asks incredulously. 

"If anyone even needs an intern Tony it would be me. I have to babysit you and the company, meanwhile you just need him to hand you wrenches. Competent help is hard to find these days and you're wasting his talents." 

"Um, excuse me, he's the only thing keeping me together. You already have your fancy day planner and Excel spreadsheets, I need him to get me out of the house. He's the only thing keeping me a responsible adult, if you take away my emotional support intern then I will not attend a single meeting for the rest of the quarter." 

"You are such a man child!"

"La la la la can't hear youuu," Tony says with his fingers in his ears.

"Um, guys, I think people are staring."

Peter tugs on the corner of Tony's sleeve to get him to unplug his ears, glancing nervously at the groups of people sending them judgemental stares. The three of them give a wave and pleasant smile, most of the crowd continuing to move along on the grey carpet at the sight of their unsettling synchronicity and false turn of the lips. 

Pepper speaks through her teeth, a grin still presented at passers-by. "Fine, you can keep him, but only because he's doing half my job for me. The only person you can emotionally regulate around and it's a teenager. I'm glad you finally found someone who can keep you entertained." 

"Love you too honey," Tony says while putting a hand on the small of her back and kissing her cheek. He sighs, looking around the room at all the government officials who think these tech companies are spying on them. 

Apparently a surveillance state is only cool when they do it to manipulate their incarceration numbers, rig elections and lobby votes, and not for data mining and targeted ads. 

"I say we hit the cheese and crackers, take an awkward amount of sips from those tiny water bottles, and then speak to some old ladies till we have to do our presentation."

"Sounds great Mr. Stark. Will you make sure they don't grab my face again? I smelled like old lady perfume at school and Flash started making fun of me for stealing people's grandmas."

Tony looks into Peter's eyes questioningly and finds nothing but sincerity and resignation in them. 

"Well. Not my fault your cheeks are so gosh darn cute. But I'll do my best," he wraps an arm around the shorter and starts heading through the room again. 

The weight is comforting. Peter used to get anxious at these events, but Tony never leaves his side and is always looking at him like he's the Michaelangelo in the center of every room. He became accustomed to being Mr. Stark's favourite part of the event. While that may not seem difficult, especially considering the droning lectures and snooty company, it always feels special making jokes about people's ridiculous work jargon, and comparing the staleness of crackers at conferences. 

"Emotional support intern huh?" he says smugly. 

Tony glances at him, but instead of scoffing or denying anything, he just speaks with honesty. "You and Pepper are the best, most important things to this company. And to me. I'm really glad you're here kid."

Peter doesn't know what to say. The words stick in his throat while Tony hands him a water bottle with the lid already cracked. 

Peter has super strength; It's completely unnecessary to open his bottle for him. He doesn't point this out. Tony will do it at the next meeting, just like he did at the last one, and Peter will never mention it.

[siriuslysmoking]

omg the theo idea!!!! do it!

Sent Not Received

Summary: In which Theodore Nott did not receive the letters you sent.

Warnings: major miscommunication, Exes to lovers? Yelling, kissing

All year you had been trying to contact all of your friends from Hogwarts and you heard back from them- well most of them.

Pansy would write you almost every day, Blaise would update you on everything happening back at Hogwarts, Enzo would ask how you were doing, Draco would write maybe once every other week. Even Mattheo would write you back.

It shouldn't have surprised you when you didn't hear back from him. You had left after a big fight- left meaning you were forced to go.

Your parents were strict, they didn't think Hogwarts right place for you anymore, not after the war, after the leadership changed. They made you move in with you aunt who lived in France, so you could get a proper education.

Theo thought you had left him, he distanced himself from the group, with them all talking about you he couldn't stand it; not after everything. It took you so long just to get you were in your relationship and you threw that away, for what France?

He hadn't heard from you all year, he didn't reach out, he didn't need to, he knew what you wanted, and that was not him. He's accepted it, after ten months he's accepted it.

Pansy doesn't mention Theo in her letters, she knows it's a sore subject. But neither do you.

When your parents contact you for the first time in months you're nervous, wondering what they want. But when they let you know that you're permitted to return back to the United Kingdom, you're ecstatic.

Before you even reply to your family, you sign a letter to McGonagall, asking permission to arrive through a portkey to Hogwarts, to surprise your friends.

She sends a package with a silver goblet after three days. She signs it with one word: Portkey

You don't even think twice, before grabbing your trunk and the portkey. You get dizzy when you arrive in the Headmistresses office. "Hello, Ms. L/n."

"Hello, Professor." You smile and she quickly returns it. She gives you the password to the common room and sends you on your way.

You make haste running down to the dungeons, you leave your bags in Mcgonagall's office so you don't have to lug them wherever you go.

The common room is empty when you arrive, dinner is almost finished so you sit in the window sill in the corner, out of site. You enjoy the emptiness of the room, missing the atmosphere of Hogwarts over the months you've been gone.

The bustiling of students piling in the room knocks you out of your head. "I'm just saying, if she didn't want to be pushed, she should've gotten out of my way."

"You're an idiot." Replies Blaise at Pansy's everlong spew.

You watch as the group stuff themselves onto the couch, continuing a conversation. "I can't believe I'm friends with you."

You silently laugh at Draco, "Something never do change do they?"

The group goes silent as you make your way out of the window sill. "No!" Pansy gasps, standing up and nearly tripping over Mattheo's feet that are resting on top of the coffee table.

Pansy engulfs you in a hug, basically jumping on top of you. "You're here!"

You reply to Enzo with a hug.

"I missed you so much!" While you were giving hugs you noticed the lack of an aura in the room, one you had grown accustomed to over the past couple of years.

You make eye contact with Blaise and he nods to the stairwell to the boys dormitory.

They're in the same dorm they were last year, when you knock Theo is slow to answer the door. "What do you want."

"I wanted to say hi."

"Well now you did." He goes to close the door but you stop him.

"This is not how it was supposed to go." You step into the room and he lets you with a sigh.

"What?" He asks you, not understanding while he was standing in front of you after all this time.

"It was supposed to be me and you."

"Well, that's not how it turned out to be, that's life for you."

"Why didn't you try?" You sigh, "You just gave up."

"I didn't do anything." Theo snaps, "You left!"

"I didn't want to-"

"You left me for what- france?" He laughs sarcastically, huffing and turning from you to run his hands through his hair.

"I explained what happened." You say softly, trying to lower the tone of the conversation.

"Oh, really? Cause I didn't hear shit."

"I wrote you, you never replied to my letters- everyone else did, but you-" You feel tears trying to claw their ways out of your eyes, but you refuse to cry, you've cried too much after his absence.

"-What letters?" He quickly turned to you.

"w-what?" You stutter out, not understanding

"What letters?"

"The-The letters I sent you all year that you ignored!"

"I didn't get any letters." He shook his head, with an expression that told you he wasn't lying.

"I sent dozens of them."

"I didn't receive them." His eyes are wide, "I didn't get the letters."

"I sent them as soon as I got there, I explained that I didn't want to go, that- that I missed you and even if you didn't want to see or hear from me that I loved you."

"Loved?" He pauses, meeting your eyes.

"Love, I will always love you, shit like that doesn't go away." You laugh softly.

"I love you too." He seems to melt, meeting his lips with yours in a passionate kiss.

A kiss that you had missed over the past few months, his body heat warming you, his cologne surronding you.

God, how you've missed him.

-

-

Reblogs and Likes are appreciated <3

Taglist: @crimsntwlip @leonesimp

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

We Got That Love, The Crazy Kind

Mattheo Riddle X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 2153

Warnings: Suggestive, fluff, mild language, torture, blood…

Prompt: Mattheo is awkward about showing affection to you in public, so you both are in a bit of an argument. However, Lavendar has a crush on Mattheo and you’ve had enough. Oliver decides to flirt with you and Mattheo wasn’t having it.

*Y/N’s POV*

“How long are you and Mattheo going to keep up this silent treatment?” Pansy asks, the both of us walking towards the courtyard.

“Until he can start treating me like I’m his girlfriend. I’m tired of the way he treats me in public. It’s like…he’s embarrassed of me.” I say, shaking my head upset.

I saw that he was sitting by a tree with Lorenzo Berkshire, Blaise Zambini, Draco Malfoy, and Theodore Nott. Our friends, however since this whole argument with Mattheo and I started, I’ve been sitting elsewhere with Pansy.

She didn’t have to sit with me, but she was a good friend even though I knew how close she was with the guys. Not to mention, Draco is her boyfriend. Yet, she decides to sit with me so I won’t be alone.

“I heard he broke up with her.” I hear.

“Yeah. They did. Because he couldn’t get enough of me. Mattheo…he’s good.” Lavender says.

“Whatever you do, and whatever your thinking, don’t do it.” Pansy pleads, but I stand as she curses.

I start walking towards the table she sat at with her friends as Pansy started to speed walk towards the tree where the guys were. I grabbed Lavendar by her hair and she cries out in pain. I drag her off the bench and let her fall to the ground. I wait until she stands up, glaring at me. I lunge at her, pinning her to the wall as I punch her repeatedly.

All I saw was red.

I’ve heard girls talk about Mattheo, but typically they stop when they see the glare I give them. Lavender doesn’t know when to stop.

“I don’t know what your obsession with my boyfriend is, but I’ve had it.” I snap breathlessly between punches.

“Ms. Y/L/N, enough.” Umbridge warns.

I ignore her when I see her pull her wand out. She points it at me.

“Petrificus Totalus!” She shouts, but I pulled my wand free, pointing it in the direction of her and shout, “Protego!”

She gasps, seeming shocked I would fight a spell. I let Lavendar fall to the ground as her friends rush towards her. I look at Umbridge who looked red in the face and was ready to fire another spell off at me.

“Expelliarmus!” I shout.

Her wand goes flying away from her and I storm out of the courtyard, heading towards the Slytherin dorms. I get to mine, slamming the door shut and locking it before going to my bathroom. I close the door, locking it as I look at myself in the mirror.

What have I done?

I’m suppose to mad at him, yet I can’t ignore what Lavendar says…he wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t be with someone else…right? No…that’s…that’s not my Mattheo.

Who said he was still your Mattheo?

I shake my head, ignoring the stinging in my eyes. I turn the water on and watch the water turn a red-pink color as it washes away Lavendar’s and I’s blood. I grab my wand, pointing at one hand.

“Episkey.” I whisper.

I watch the hand heal before I grab my wand and point it at my other hand, doing the same. I look at myself in the mirror. Who have I become?

I was forced to stand at the front of the class and receive my punishment from Umbridge. She grabs her chair and makes me sit.

“You’ll be punished for the fight you started and then you’ll be punished for ignoring orders from a Professor.” She says.

She gave me a notepad and a quill. I was very aware of what this meant.

“How many lines?” I ask.

“I’ll let you know when it’s finished. I want you to write, “I will not disobey orders”, understood?” She asks.

“Understood.” I say shortly.

I clench my jaw, starting to write my lines as if it didn’t bother me. I ignored the stinging at the back of my eyes and focused on the quill in hand as she taught away. I take in a slow deep breath before letting it out. Blood dripped down my hand and was dripping to the floor. My hands shook slightly, but I continued to do as asked.

“Alright. Good. It’s been half the class. How’s your hand?” She asks.

“Peachy.” I say bluntly, looking up at her with a blank stare.

“Is this you talking back?” She asks.

“You’d know if I was talking back. What next?” I ask.

“I don’t think your punishment is working,” she says as she pulls her wand out, “imperio.”

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask.

“Take the quill, write on your arm. Write mudblood. Until I say stop.” She says.

“You can’t do this!” Mattheo snaps.

“It’s against the rules.” Harry adds, looking quite frightened.

I grimace as I bring the quill to my arm and it digs into it as I write the saying I’ve heard all across my life. I close my eyes, my hand moving and continuously writing “mudblood” into my arm, going deeper each time.

“Mr. Riddle, Mr. Potter, enough. I can punish my students how I like. Maybe this will teach her a lesson.” She says, before going back to teaching.

I opened my eyes, looking at the word that was carved into my arm. A word that haunts me far too much. Maybe that’s why Mattheo is so embarrassed of me. I’m a mudblood. That is who I will always be.

“Alright Ms. Y/L/N, you can stop.” She says and I felt a weight lifted off me.

I throw the quill and pad of paper in her direction as I stand, walking out of the room as I ignore her calls. I get to the Slytherin dorms and Snape stops me.

“It’ll scar, but let me heal it.” He says.

“It’s fine.” I mutter.

He grabs my arm with a sigh, using his wand to heal it. I nod before walking away towards my dorm where I close the door and lock it.

I pull my shirt off and pull on a long-sleeve, wanting to hide that horrid word before I lay on my bed. I hear a knock on my door, but I ignore it.

“It’s me.” Pansy says.

I stay quiet, staring at the wall. She sighs, knocking again.

“Let me in. Let us in. We want to make sure your okay. That wasn’t okay of Umbridge to do. That was…torture.” She says.

“I’m okay. I want to be alone, so leave me alone.” I say calmly, fighting my turmoil of emotions.

I couldn’t avoid them forever. I avoided them for a good two weeks, by holing myself up in my dorm. Snape brought me my work, but he said I had to return to my classes today.

I was dressed in a long-sleeve shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. I never wore long-sleeves, but I couldn’t get that horrid word off my arm.

I put my hair up in a messy bun, looking at myself in the mirror blankly. I’ve gotten paler over the past two weeks which could be from not eating like I normally should. I had bags under my eyes and my eyes in general just looked tired.

I grab my bag and wand before I began to head towards Umbridge’s class. I walk in and she looks at me surprised.

“And I thought you left Hogwarts.” She mocks.

“And I wish someone Avada Kedavra’d you. Yet, your still here.” I say tiredly, going to my empty seat at the back of the class.

“Do we need to repeat your punishment?” She asks.

“Go on with teaching. Your punishment did nothing the first time and I doubt it would do anything this time.” I snap.

“And detention, Potter. I said, Cedric’s death was a tragic accident.” She says, turning her focus on him.

“Like your birth?” I ask annoyed.

“Y/n, enough.” Mattheo’s whispers harshly.

“Y/L/N, leave my classroom now. I’ve had enough.” She says calmly.

“Gladly.” I say, standing to gather my stuff as she starts to lecture me.

“Umbitch. Lecturing me, and shouting at me, and telling me to hurry up isn’t going to get me to move faster. You should’ve been killed months ago cause you are such a pain in the ass. How did you end up here? Honestly because you are pretty fucked up,” I say, laughing before looking at her, “and you don’t own me.”

I walk out of the room as Draco whistles.

“Damn.” Mattheo mutters.

I was in the courtyard working on my studies as everyone else finally filed out. I was sitting at the table Pansy and I had been occupying before I holed myself up in my room. Pansy and the guys join us.

“Hey, how are you?” Pansy asks softly.

“I don’t need pity and treated like I’m so broken glass doll.” I say, flipping the page of my textbook.

“We are your friends. We care about you.” She says.

“Well care less.” I say annoyed.

“Snape said it scarred.” She says.

“And if it did?” I ask.

“I know how much you hate that word. Your a powerful witch though. Better than Granger. Let me see it.” She says.

“Y/N.” Oliver says.

“Yes, Oliver?” I ask, looking up.

“Can we talk…alone?” He asks.

My eyebrows furrow, but I nod slowly. I follow him towards a tree that wasn’t occupied, away from everyone. My eyes flicker to my table to see that they kept glancing over and Mattheo was watching intently. I didn’t miss the look of jealously.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?” He asks.

“Your pathetic, Oliver! You called me over here, to ask me out when you know I have boyfriend!” I exclaim, glaring at him.

“He doesn’t have to know. And he acts like you both aren’t together anyway. I can treat you better.” He says.

“In your wildest dreams, Wood. Get away.” I snap, going to walk past him, but he grabs my arm.

I pull my arm free, backing myself up against a tree as he steps forward. He brushes a strand of hair out of my face that must’ve fallen out from the bun.

“It’s always been you, Y/L/N. Mattheo doesn’t have to know about this. You and I…we’d be a better couple. I could treat you better.” He says.

“You’re a real piece of work, Wood. I love Mattheo, even if he doesn’t show his feelings towards me in public, I love him. Nothing will happen between you and me. Now, let me go.” I snap.

*Mattheo’s POV*

“I think Oliver is flirting with her.” Draco says.

I watch her and could tell she was uncomfortable. She seems upset after whatever he says and was glaring at him. She goes to walk past him, but he grabs her arm and I clench my jaw.

“Don’t do it man.” Theo warns.

“Ah shit. He’s backed her up against the tree and is going in for a kiss.” Lorenzo says.

I get up, storming towards the two of them and I push Oliver down to the ground as Pansy pulls Y/N into a hug.

“Okay, motherfucker now you got my attention.” I say, grinning as I start throwing punches at him.

“Not again.” Lorenzo sighs.

“Mattheo! Come on man! Stop! Umbridge will flip!” Draco snaps.

He and Lorenzo were trying to pull me off of Oliver, but all I saw was red. He touched her and he knew she is mine.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch her again! She’s mine, Wood! Next time I’ll kill you!” I snap.

“Mattheo…please.” She whispers.

I freeze, before looking over my shoulder to see that Pansy and Theodore were holding her back from coming to me. I’ll thank them for that later. Oliver hits me, and I turn back to him and hit him again before getting up.

I walk to her, pulling her towards me. She looks up at me with watery eyes. I lose a hand in her hair, messing up the bun. I pull her closer to me as I lean down and kiss her roughly.

Her hands rest on my chest as she kisses me back. I pull away, resting my head against her forehead as I look into her gorgeous (your eye color) eyes.

“I love you.” She says softly.

“Your mine.” I snap.

“I’m yours.” She says, smiling slightly.

I pull away before throwing her over my shoulder. She gasps, hitting my back as she snaps at me to put her down.

“Not happening. I’ll put you down when we get to my dorm.” I say and her cheeks flush as Draco “ooohs”.

“Mattheo!” She exclaims embarrassed.

“They got that love.” Lorenzo chuckles.

“Yeah, the crazy kind.” Pansy teases.

[delacoursshp]

"3…2..1.. DIVE!"

cedric diggory x fem mermaid reader

- use of y/n, reader is in slytherin AND IS A MERMAIDDD, reader is independent, cedric is your cheesy lover, triwizard cup (2nd task) drama, you almost being caught as a mermaid

warnings: nothing

i write quick stories, but dis one felt a tiny lil longer than usual so enjoy😋

-

the bell rang. you were so glad to be out of ms trelawneys lesson. she was such an oaf, with her ''ooohh i see potentional murder ahead!" or her 'aahh i see much death in your future!'. like, honestly!

not that trelawneys sayings would've been a surprise; half-blood mermaids were very rare and often seen as demons. and funny enough, you were one of them.

you made your way down the stairs to study in the library.you avoided pansy parkinson and her little group, as they always put themselves in drama and you were never up for that.

once arrived, you yanked about 5 books from a shelf and then seated yourself at a table next to a big window.

you began reading. first book, second book, third book-

ding!

19.00.

you closed the books quickly, put them back and then rushed so fast out of the library, making people turn their heads.you went upstairs, third floor, to the prefects bathroom, then muttered something that sounded like 'pine-fresh' and the painting swept forwards and you quickly stepped in.

there was nobody, as expected, except for the mermaid on the painting onto the wall. you waved politely and she waved back excitedly, looking as if she had missed you really much. you undressed, leaving yourself completely naked, then stepped into the pool.

after what felt like 10 minutes you felt your body heat up, your toes clench really hard, and your breathing quickened. the double eyelids formed onto your face.

what used to be your legs had now shaped into a long dark green, grey-ish shiny tail. your skin turned a little grey too, and your nails extended in length. your iris had become bloodred of colour, and your black pupils dilated until there was just a thin red line around the black dot. you sighed as all the changes finished, and relaxed.

about 50 seconds later, you heard the prefects bathroom opening open. it was him.

you looked up, hoping it was him and not someone else. the painting creaked and there you saw the tall, fit, brunette figure walk through.

"cedric." you whispered in happiness. he smiled at you before sprinting and hastily jumping into the pool.

you squeaked. "cedric!" he laughed, shaking the water off his hair and swam towards you. "well, hello beautiful." he smirked, eyeing your sea creature body. your breasts were practically naked, except for the shell symbols spread around your areola.

"ced. your clothes are wet." you said sarcastically, staring up into his eyes while his arm rests around your shoulder.

"doesn't matter, love. how've you been? mind helping me with the triwizard cup? i think it has something to do with, you know, your kind. i heard sirens when i opened that egg. anyways, i hope they wo-"

you admired him as he kept talking about the upcoming triwizard task. you were so lucky to have him, he never judged you on being a mermaid. of course, he's also the only one that knows about it.

your deadly- (but oddly attractive to cedric) -eyes were caught by cedric as he finished the topic. he stared at you, and if looks could kill, you'd definitely been dead. you leaned your body onto him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"i don't know what i would do without you, cedric." you spoke softly. cedric chuckled.

"well, luckily that's something you don't ever have to worry about."

"promise?" you whispered, stroking his arm with your dainty hands.

"promise."

the mermaid in the painting clasped her hands onto her mouth, and her watery eyes blinked dramatically. she wiped them with a piece of seaweed.

cedrics hand that wasn't at your shoulder, trailed down your tail and felt at the texture.

he was mesmerized. he'd seen your mermaid self once before, from afar. now that he sees it up close, it's so much prettier.

you smiled softly, exhausted from reading so long before. you glanced at the mermaid, who winked back at you.

"i love you." cedric suddenly said, what made you turn your head immediately.

"i love you, cedric" you said back, not breaking eyecontact.

"good. fish babies!" he joked.

you giggled and sat yourself sideways onto his lap. your tail flicked up and down in excitement, making the water splash. cedric grinned at your actions. then you locked lips with him, drowning in his taste.

if only this moment would never end.

-

[CEDRICS POV)

it was the day of the second task. i was really nervous, but i prepared my bubble charm so everything should be fine.

bagman went on and on about this and that. to be fair, i wasn't listening. i was watching the lake before me, swinging my arms unpatiently.

"okay, enough chit-chatting! now, are we ready, best contestants?"

bloody right i was ready.

"3...2..1.. DIVE!"

an enormous splash erupted from the lake, onto the murmuring crowd. i swam and swam all the way down, trying to find what i was searching for. i didn't know exactly what. i just knew it would be guarded by mermen.

many minutes passed, and i saw 4 vague figures. i swam a little closer, and saw the four figures clearer. they were all tied up, cornered by merpeople.

one of them was a girl with rather bushy hair, next to her a boy with hair so red it looked like fire was burning in the lake, and next to him was a little girl, and right next to her was-

oh no. this couldn't be.

i frowned my eyebrows and my mouth dropped in fear. y/n.

the fact that it was y/n tied up, wasn't the worst thing. it was that her tail showed. a mermaid transformation took about 10 minutes, right? so whoever put her here must have done it quick! or else she would've been killed by them already.. if anyone up there sees she is a mermaid, things could get disgusting.

i examined her unconscious face, searching for any wounds. it was rather hard, curse the bubble charm for blurring my view.

i grabbed a knife i brought just in case from my pocket, and cut the ropes around her wrists. i carried her heavy figure up the water fast, as i felt like time was running out. our heads popped out, and y/ns eyes opened slowly. the first thing she saw was my face. then she looked around, very confused. she saw the water floating around her, and it looked like she was about to faint.

-

[YOUR POV]

what? what is going on? you felt fear, anger, and confusion rise up within you. please let this be a nightmare, you thought.

a soaked cedric with a bubble around his head was looking at you, worryingly. when you wanted to say something, but it came out as a whimper, he shushed you. "shh, it's okay, leave everything up to me right now, okay?" he whispered.

"and we have our first contestant up! cedric diggory!". the gryffindors, hufflepuffs, ravenclaws and a few beauxbatons cheered loudly. some looked confused at your slightly new appearance; your grey skin & red eyes weren't hidden. cedric tried to hide you from the crowd.

he grinned at them so nobody would find it off, and then swam to dumbledore with you, both of your bodies underwater, except for your heads.

"sir, she- she's.." cedric tried to make up an excuse to make sure your body stayed beneath the surface. you looked at him, terrified.

dumbledore smiled. "it's okay, boy. i'm not stupid, you know. show her to me."

cedric hesitated, but you nodded, after all, he was the headmaster. what choice did cedric or you have?

you shyly turned around, horrified to see his reaction, but dumbledore kept his same expression. "ah. and so i was right." he said, his eyes twinkling.

you frowned your eyebrows in surprise, looked at cedric, and saw that he was doing the same. "your bubble still functions well, i'm assuming? 2 hours they work, yes?"dumbledore said.

"uuh, yes, sir." cedric said. "turn around, dive, go north, then west, you'll find a cave, go through there and leave the rest up to me."

you and cedric looked at eachother in both relief and confusion, then cedric nodded.-you swam forward, cedric holding onto your hand. a smile crept up your face, as he struggled to keep up with you.

"keep up, tough boy." you mouthed, feeling a little less worried then before.he just chuckled nervously at you. the moment of it was almost romantic, if to ignore the context. you felt a sense of joy, being in your other home, together with someone you wanna spend your entire life with.

hopefully, the next task would be a lot less terrifying.

-

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

idk idk idkk. i don't rlly like this ☹️ but!! i felt like i wrote the task scene okay, right? 😝 anyways, hope u enjoyed!

- @delacoursshp

[pinkcandycatmakesart]

Here she is! I colored Ms. Pansy to look beautiful in a digital look with vibrant colors. The hat, the dress, and the umbrella. Does she look fancy?

[somesecretpie]

Weather Woman (Short Story)

Forty-seven dead. Bodies near unrecognizable. An eyewitness, Ms. Self, said the weather was to blame but Susan knew it was anything but that. This was homicide. Divine intervention. 

“My poor poor little pansies,” she said, peering over their wilted corpses. It had officially been a whole year since Susan’s county had any rainfall. Several months ago, the town began issuing fines to anyone who dared to water their lawn. Susan did not find this to be much of an issue—she continued to keep her garden green as suburbia withered and died around her, until she ran into a small problem. 

Susan ran out of money.

From all the fines she was paying. 

She reentered her home, morning paper in one hand, and her weekly subscription to “Martha Stewart Living” in the other. Her house was a wondrous temple of correct furniture and appropriate color palettes, bowls of plastic fruit at the center of each faux-mahogany table. Photographs of a happy family arranged in a symmetrical pattern (Not her own, though; they were stock images.) She would have absolute perfection, were it not for that scorched eyesore that marked her entryway garden. 

Susan poured her morning coffee, popped a bagel in the toaster, and turned on the weather channel for her district. That was the only thing she watched now: The weather. Mr. John Sunday in front of his green screen, with his little yellow bowtie, and his eyes the color of the unchanging sky. He looked quite unremarkable for a man that disseminated such important information to the public, but looks can be deceiving. One does not look at a perfect egg and see themselves contracting salmonella.

“Please, John, some rain for my pansies,” Susan whispered into her morning coffee. She turned up the volume and his pleasant voice filled the living room. 

“Good morning, Marin County! It’s gonna be nothing but blue skies this week. Perfect weather for going on a nice long walk. And enjoying all that mother nature has to offer—“

Susan threw her bagel at the television in a fit of anger. Then promptly cleaned it off the floor and swept it into the wastebin. 

What did she do to deserve these never-ending blue skies? I’m a nice woman, aren’t I? she lamented. Don’t I deserve purple pansies? Don’t I deserve a little rain?

There was something malicious and secret behind John’s blue eyes.  Something he knew that she did not. She could not bear to look at them! 

She shut off the TV. 

Her heart beat madly in her chest. What ever would Susan do? Refill her bed of flowers with desert cacti and succulents? No, wrong color palette. Take out a loan to continue watering her plants? Now that would be ridiculous…

The weather was to blame—but Susan had a poor understanding of it. What went on up there in the sky? Who, exactly, could she send a strongly worded email to?

That same morning, Susan Kelvin decided she would take out a loan after all, but not to water her plants. Instead, she would go back to her local community college to study meteorology. She was quite sure that most of her coursework was merely propaganda from Big Weather, but she needed that associate's degree so she could learn that secret that lurked behind the eyes of Mr. John Sunday. So she could join his ranks. So she could become a Weather Woman.

Susan applied to the local television network with high hopes. The fate of her future rested on their acceptance. She snuggled into bed that same night of her application and dreamed of fresh purple pansies dotting the corners of her deep green lawn. But...something was terribly wrong!

Susan gasped for breath and opened her eyes. Strong hands grasped her arms, the fabric of a bag over her face—she was being kidnapped! Oh this is going to work horribly with my schedule! thought Susan. She began to protest but a harsh voice shushed her to silence. She was shoved into a car.

After an hour or so of stumbling around, the bag was lifted, and Susan blinked rapidly. She was in a musty room lit by candles. Deactivated cameras hung on racks against the wall, and a circle of sharply dressed bodies surrounded her, their shadows bending and stretching in the flickering light.

“Welcome,” someone said. “You have been called before our chapter because of your personal obsession with the weather. And from our understanding, your qualifications may permit that obsession to become...something more.”

Susan struggled to get her bearings. In front of her was, if she was not mistaken, sliced tofu arranged into an occult symbol.

“Your name is Susan Kelvin and you have a degree in meteorology from Marin County Community College, is this correct?”

“Yes,” Susan confirmed.

“You live alone, your parents are deceased, and you have no friends or loved ones. Is this also correct?”

“Who are you people?”

Susan then noticed that she recognized the woman sitting on her left—it was Ms. Rivers from channel eight. A proper weatherwoman, straightened and carefully sculpted black hair, with a stormy gray pantsuit that tastefully contrasted against her dark complexion. And to her right was that weatherman from channel seven what’s-his-face (his appearance was not noteworthy). And at the very front, at the head of the body of bodies, the man who had been speaking to her was none other than Mr. John Sunday in his yellow bow tie.

“What interest do you have in becoming a Weather Woman, Ms. Susan Kelvin?”

“I…um…”

They waited patiently for her answer. It suddenly occurred to Susan that this was probably a job interview. She straightened her back and folded her hands in front of her. 

“I believe I could bring a lot of value and a unique perspective to the weather conversation,” Susan said. “It has affected me personally…My district hasn’t had any rain in over a month.”

“I’m sorry,” John said. “That must be terrible for you.”

“What are you apologizing for? You can’t control the weather.”

John Sunday leaned forward, and his blue eyes flashed a deep dark red. “Oh but we can.”

“Can what?”

“We control the weather, Susan.”

Susan narrowed her eyes. “That is completely absurd. You’re all a bunch of wierdo people who kidnapped me and I’m...I’m going to tell the authorities!”

“No one will believe you,” whispered Rivers. 

Susan glared at everyone, but the weather people held still, not a trace of doubt of their ability. But surely the truth about the weather would not be so…uncomplicated. Surely the unseen forces that murdered her flowers would not have human faces. 

“I don’t believe you,” Susan said plainly. “But I do need this job so that I can pay off my student loans–” 

“The forecasters bear a burden.” John ignored her question. The speech was likely rehearsed. “To be a forecaster is self-sacrifice! To be a forecaster is to be a champion of the greater good! Does that describe you, Susan Kelvin?”

She hesitated. 

Champion is rather vague. It can have multiple meanings.

She thought of her beautifully decorated house. 

Oh, but I am certainly good.

She thought of her neighbors and their inferior sense of style.

And I am certainly greater! 

Slowly, Susan nodded her head. 

The weather people muttered amongst themselves enthusiastically, like children, until silenced by John. 

“Excellent,” he said. “Very good. Then, on behalf of the California chapter of forecasters, the masters of the weather, we welcome you. Thank you, Great Mother.”

“Thank you, Great Mother.” the weatherpeople said in tandem. 

Someone clapped twice, and the overhead lamps blasted light everywhere. 

“You’ll be shadowing Rivers tomorrow at eight. Look sharp,” John said dramatically, but without the candlelight defining his cheekbones, it was quite hard to take him seriously. 

The next day, Susan arrived at exactly eight o’ clock, wearing her best suit, and hair pulled back in a tight bun. She found Rivers, on set, eating conservatively from a bag of soynuts. 

“Oh hey! It’s you,” the weatherwoman said. “Sorry about all that cult stuff. John can be so dramatic.”

Susan smiled in relief, but quickly hid it away. “That is an understatement,” she muttered. “Will there be any more kidnappings?”

“Only for your monthly status report,” she said, “But give me your number and I can text you before it happens.”

Susan did so hesitantly, and kept staring at her phone after the fact. She had one whole contact now. How quaint. 

That day, Susan was supposed to examine the cue cards, inspect the camera crews, and stare intently at the weatherwoman, noting every minute thing she did. Rivers delivered her forecast with a smile. Blue skies again. 

“That’s disappointing,” Susan said to her over lunch. “I was hoping for some rain in my district.”

“John already has the weather planned out for the next few weeks,” Rivers said stiffly. “So sorry.”

Susan did not laugh. “This again? Tell me you do not believe this “controlling the weather” nonsense! You are not wizards!”

“Did you not see our occult symbols?”

Susan swatted at the air. “Meaningless shapes.”

“And what about John’s flashing red eyes?”

Susan’s voice lowered to a whisper, “Now, I don’t know about that…But he should see a medical professional.”

Rivers rolled her eyes and left to prepare for her evening forecast. When it was  done and there were no more cue cards to read from, she very quickly told the audience, in a joking manner, that there would be isolated showers over their recording studio from exactly five fifty PM to five fifty one PM. She then strut off the stage with a smirk. 

“Well, that’s an oddly specific forecast—“ 

The weather woman grabbed her by the wrist and led her all the way to the back-door exit with the recycling and the parking lot. 

“Check your phone,” Rivers said. 

Susan did not see why she should, there would be no messages. This was because she only had one contact, you see. But as she held her phone in her hand, a large raindrop splattered on the screen. Then another. And now rain was pouring from the sky, dripping down her hair and suit. Susan’s jaw dropped. She had not felt rain in so long. It was five-fifty. And by five fifty-one, the clouds departed as if swept away by a large broom. The sunlight stung her face. 

Rivers smiled at her. 

So they really did control the weather. 

This revelation posed a great many questions. Like, why did the public not know about this? And why did the weathercasters have these powers? And why had Susan studied for two years to become a meteorologist when she could just pulled forecasts out of her asshole? Susan frowned. Now that she thought about it, it was rather odd that her meterology courses mostly consisted of specifications for ritual sacrifice and obedience lessons. Susan had simply thought it was “one of those things” about academia. 

“Well, Rivers…”

“Yes, Susan?”

“I suppose this whole “forecasting” thing is...it’s fun, isn’t it?”

“Fun doesn’t do it justice!” Rivers said, through a handful of soynuts. “Just knowing how much power there is behind your every word. So long the camera is rolling, there is nothing stopping you from doing anything you damn well please!” Rivers laughed heartily, but kept her eyes trained on Susan. “Except your conscience, of course!”

“Oh, yes,” Susan said. “Ha ha!”

Fun doesn’t do it justice…It had been a while since Susan Kelvin had fun. She tried to remember when that was. 

Oh, yes, of course!

It had been two weeks ago. Susan had just gotten home from work after a rough day, shoulders drooping, hair ruffled, when she looked down on her front porch and saw a beetle. The bug was turned on its back, legs flailing weakly in the air. There was nothing nearby for grasping, nothing but hot sunburned concrete. This bug had no way of righting itself yet it struggled still. Susan sat down and watched this bug. She watched it until it stopped moving. Until it returned to its natural state. Nonexistence. That had been fun, Susan remembered fondly. I am eager to have fun again. 

After two days of shadowing Rivers, Susan was given her own partition of airtime over her district and a weekly forecast by her fellow weatherpeople. She delivered the forecast exactly as instructed. Blue skies. 

“Pretty good for a first-time,” Rivers said. “Although, you were a bit stiff. Trying showing more emotion, more body language, you know?” She placed her fingers on her own cheekbones, pressing them upward. “Remember to smile.”

Susan didn’t know why she hadn’t. Perhaps she wasn’t having fun yet. She spent the rest of that evening practicing smiling in the mirror. She read Martha Stewart, baked a five-cheese lasagna exactly per the instructions, and smiled upon removing it from the oven like Martha Stewart did in the picture. She smiled until she did it without thinking, baring her teeth even in bed, as she dreamed of purple pansies. 

The next day, she delivered her forecast so well that even John himself gave her a flamboyant “Well done!” And Susan smiled at them as they congratulated her—but still she was not having fun. 

All this power and I never get to do anything worthwhile. Susan sighed. I could fix my front lawn if only John would let me.

Later at the meeting, Susan tried to articulate her feelings. 

“We could be doing so much more, John. We could be helping the needy, like those poor people of Marin County who’s front lawns have been destroyed by the California heat!”

The weather people muttered undecidedly. Susan recognized her experiences were not universal, and acted accordingly, “Or what about people affected by hurricanes! Or wildfires, droughts, what about them, John! All those poor people we could help with our power—“

“Our power is a gift, you fool!” John snapped. 

Susan raised an eyebrow. “A gift?”

“From Zietzebala,” said Rivers. “Our Great Mother Earth. She has gifted us with this forecasting power in exchange for our obedience as well as a few…sacrifices.”

“Ah.” Susan looked down. “And I suppose they have to be virgins too, don’t they. I’m still friends on facebook with a lot of men I went to highschool with who are probably–”  

“No! Dammit, no! I meant, like, recycle. Plant a tree!” John looked exasperated. “Sometimes we sacrifice a tofurky, but we’ve never really gone farther than that.”

“Maybe we should,” muttered Rivers.

John turned sharply to look at her. “Don’t think I don’t know about that little stunt you pulled yesterday,” he said with a voice like acid. “Isolated showers? Over our studio? You know how important the schedule is–”

“I’m sorry.” Rivers said. She did not appear sorry. “It will not happen again.”

“It had better not.”

John left the room in a huff.

Once he was safely out of earshot, Susan asked “What did you mean by that?”

Rivers sighed. “I know what you mean about wanting to help. About all the good we could do. Climate change has already killed millions…and the death toll will continue to rise.”

Susan thought of her dead flowers and trembled. 

“Don’t feel bad, Rivers,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”

“No but it is literally our fault we control the weather Susan.“

“Oh right.”

Susan had forgotten. 

Rivers began crushing the snacks in her hand. “The horrible thing is–I could fix it all. I have an incredibly detailed plan to fix the environment that, when I placed it on the alter to Zietzebala, turned into a swarm of doves! So I know she approves!”

Rivers glared. “But her pact is with John. And John has a bad heart.”

Susan nodded. “Truly a wicked man.”

“No, he literally has a bad heart. Arrhythmia.” Rivers hit twice against her chest. “I’m next in line for leadership if ever something terrible happens to him, just so you know.” She looked askance, placing her hand on Susan’s. “Do with that information what you will, Susan.”

Several things flashed through her mind at once. She saw Rivers dressed in the fanciful robes of climate cult leader. Rivers telling her how beautiful her lawn was. River’s soft, well-manicured hands holding hers, not just now, but over and over again in the future. Rivers could be more than her singular phone contact. Susan’s cheeks grew hot and she withdrew.

“Susan?”

She collected herself, pouring another class of ceremonial non-alcoholic wine. She raised it in a toast. “Here’s to hoping John drops dead!” 

Rivers laughed, “Oh Susan, you’re so funny.”

Ms. Susan Kelvin squeezed her incredibly soft hand. “And when you’re head forecaster, you’ll give my district some water, won’t you? Because we are…coworkers?”

Ms. Rivers seemed confused for a half-second, then replied. “Of course! We will help everyone, which includes you!” 

“But not me specifically?”

“Not you specifically, no.”

“Oh.”

Susan looked away. 

Rivers offered her a soynut, but Susan refused it. 

***

Next morning, Susan awoke with a start. She had a good feeling about today, that good feeling had apparently kicked her out of bed at an hour earlier than usual. What to do with the spare time?

She clapped her hands together. I know! I will go out for breakfast!

So Susan drove her little car down to her neighborhood Denny’s, avoiding all the dead beetles in the parking lot with her new high heels. She squeezed herself into a cozy booth. A nice table all to herself. 

A waitress approached. 

“Brown toast, and two eggs please.”

“Will that be sunny-side up, ma’am?”

“No no,” Susan turned from the window. Blue skies. With a twinge of bitterness she clarified, “I like my eggs over easy.”

“Sure thing!” The waitress jotted it down. “Sorry for assuming, most people like ‘em sunny—.”

“Well I like them over easy,” Susan said with a smile. 

Susan tapped her heel as she waited, sipping some lemon water. A tingling feeling ran up her leg, like a bug was crawling. She quickly ran her hand up and down her smooth leg, but it was nothing. Nothing. 

Moments later a steaming hot plate arrived. The toast was cut into triangles (the only adequate shape), but the eggs. Oh, the eggs. They were sunny. Side. UP. 

Susan stormed out of the establishment without paying, and sped to her job, positively seething. 

She did her broadcast as normal, except for one teensy addition as follows: 

“Lastly, you’ll be seeing a horrific category five hurricane over in Marin county with wind speeds of about one hundred twenty miles an hour. It will be localized entirely within this area.” Susan pointed with her pointing stick to the map, on which she’d drawn a red circle around that one particular Denny’s.” Susan smiled. “That will be all!”

They cut to commercial break. 

No one approached Susan for a full five minutes. Then John appeared, apparently having powerwalked from the adjoining broadcast room.

“Susan, what the hell–”

“It was a joke!”

John looked flabbergasted. 

Susan made a silly face. 

“A…joke?” 

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “Susan…you need to be really fucking careful with “jokes” when you’re on camera…You’re not in training anymore. Everything you say will happen no matter how ridiculous.”

Susan smiled slightly. That was exactly what she hoped.

John put a firm hand on her shoulder. “Look here, when the commercial ends, you are going to tell everyone that was a “joke”. You are going to tell everyone that there will be no category five hurricane at that particular Denny’s. Okay?”

“Okay, John.”

He backed away as the camera man counted down. Susan straightened her collar.

“Good evening, Citizens of Marin county. I have something to tell you all about that Category Five hurricane I mentioned earlier.”

Susan thought about reversing her decision. But why should she? That Denny’s had tried to poison her. She was doing God’s work. 

She cleared her throat. “That hurricane is going to have hail. So so much hail.” John was pulling at his hair.  

“And that’s not all. Susan looked directly at the camera, “Mr. John Sunday is going to die at exactly six forty-seven PM, and nothing that anyone does, not any doctor, not any ambulance, not any priest will be able to stop it.”

John Sunday ran onto the set, jumping over the rolling chairs and camera crew, reaching for her microphone. 

“And the power to this station will go off NOW.”

Darkness fell. Susan tried to run, but John tackled her to the ground. He pulled the microphone from her face and shouted into it, “No! No that will not happen, actually, that will not happen. Susan is wrong!” 

But the cameras were not running.

“You’re too late, John.”

John clutched his face.

“What time is it?”

It was six forty-six. 

There was terror in his eyes, “That wasn’t even weather related!” he stammered. “You will be fired for this!”

“Who is going to fire me, John?”

John took out his cellphone with a shaking hand and dialed 911. Susan heard it ringing, a steady pulse in his hand. But what John really needed was a steady pulse in his heart. He fell over in agony, and Susan bent over his writhing body. She watched until it stopped. Until it returned to it’s natural state. Nonexistence. Now she was having fun. Susan took his yellow bow tie (it was a clip-on.)

She ran through the crowd of concerned onlookers, off to her car to beat the rush-hour traffic. She heard sirens in the distance, a wailing chorus. Approaching. She clutched the wheel until her knuckles turned white.

Susan saw the siren was that of an ambulance and sighed. Pity that it wouldn’t help anything. What was done was done. 

That night, Susan made tea before sleeping, listening to the soft rain against her window as it cooled, with one of Martha Stewart's Living magazines resting on her lap. It was all very calming. She tucked herself into bed at exactly nine-thirty, as she did every night, and slept as she had always slept. 

But in her dreams, something was wrong. 

Something was terribly wrong.

Susan always dreamed about being in her house, but now she was on a pedestal. On all sides of her, a dark abyss stretched down into infinity. 

Instead of her carpet, the ground was teeming with worms. 

Instead of the whistling of her teakettle, she heard an ominous wind, delivering muffled shrieks and cries.

Susan tapped her foot on the wormy ground. Well, this is boring! she thought.

But no sooner did her mind form that thought than the wind began to pick up. 

Howling now. 

And from the sky of inclement weather came a flash of blinding lightning. Susan opened her eyes and who should stand before her but...

“Martha Stewart!” Susan struggled to speak. “I am your biggest fan, I’ve—I’ve read every issue of your magazine, I read your blog—I try so hard to be just like you!”

The woman answered in a booming voice that was far too deep, “But you are not like me, Susan. You are a hollow vessel. You are a parody of human being.”

“You’re not...really Martha Stewart, are you?”

The woman bared her teeth. “I’m afraid not. I am merely taking a form that you can understand.”

Susan had a feeling she knew who it was. “Are you... Great Mother?”

“The one and only!” Zietzebala winked. 

Susan looked her up and down. That dress was actually quite unfashionable now that she really looked at it. In hindsight it was obvious this was not Martha Stewart. Susan sighed soberly. Yes, not even a literal goddess can replicate such perfection.

Susan spoke to her in her usual condescending manner. “Why have you come to me like this...in a dream?”

“Isn’t it obvious why I’m here?” Not-Martha-Stewart said softly. “John Sunday is dead.”

Susan began to sweat. She adjusted her bow tie—no that was John’s bow tie, now she had drawn attention to it!

 With the intention of discreteness, and complete failure of that which was intended, Susan removed the article and hurled it into the abyss. Not even a full second later, the bow tie had reappeared. 

Again, Susan tossed it. 

Again, it reappeared. 

Again, she tossed it. 

Bow tie back again!

Again, she tossed it—

“This is who you are now, Susan!” shouted Zietzebala. Crackling thunder leapt from her perfect face-framing bob-cut of yellow hair. “This is your burden.” 

But the yellow of the bow tie didn’t even go with the current color palette of her outfit! Susan stood helplessly, in her persistently unfashionable clothing, staring into the eyes of this unearthly creature. And for the first time in her perfect life, Susan feared for her immortal soul. 

“Great Mother, I am so sorry,” she said tearfully, “But you must let me explain myself! He was preventing me from doing my job as a forecaster, so I had to kill him. I had to!”

Not-Martha-Stewart's eyes flashed red. “Don’t take all the credit, my child. I killed him. You merely allowed me to.”

Susan stopped pretending to look upset. “Oh. So we are on the same page?”

“Not exactly.” 

The Great Mother began to circle her, her high heels striking the writhing ground. “John is dead because he thought he could worship two gods at once.”

“He cheated on you?”

“With money.” Zietzebala shook her head. “John was too soft, much like the tofu he insists on sending me…He was unwilling to make the sacrifices I demand. But are you?”

The goddess was getting too close for comfort. 

“That…depends…what they are?”

“I want blood, Susan.”

She had figured. 

“Rivers has a two hundred page plan on how to save the environment. You are instrumental to that plan, Susan Kelvin. Because you are unlike any human I have ever known.” Her eyes glimmered like starlight. “You are…completely empty.”

Susan frowned. She felt strange. She felt used.

“I must go now–”

“Wait,” Susan stopped her. “While you’re here, can I ask you some questions about the nature of the universe? I’ve had a sudden stroke of curiosity.”

Zietzebala sighed. “Ok. I’ll give you three.”

“Objectively speaking, is the “Farmhouse style” or “Riverside cottage” style superior for a home kitchen?”

“That depends on the context, Susan.”

“Why are all the flowers in the magazines prettier than mine?”

“Because of the drought, Susan.”

She paused. Her last question…What shall it be?

After putting some thought into it, Susan decided to ask, “Is there life after death?”

Zietzebala smirked playfully. “Oh, I think you already know the answer.”

“Do I?”               

“Haven't you ever thought there was a bug on your leg, and upon looking, found there was no bug?”

Susan squinted. “What of it?”

The Goddess leaned in closely. “Ghost bugs.”

Susan shuddered, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. Susan grabbed onto the front of the goddess’s coat. 

“Wait, I have one more question.”

“I said I’d give you three.”

“Please, just one more!” Susan demanded. “Are there other gods?”

“You already know the answer.”

Susan scoffed. “I’m…not sure that I do!”

Zietzebala turned from her, staring into the abyss. “It is time for you to wake up, Susan. Remember all that I have told you. Collaborate with Rivers. Eliminate everyone she tells you to.”

“What?”

“Be the good that Martha Stewart wants you to be–or there will be consequences!”

With that, she clapped twice and disappeared in a puff of smoke that smelled like cedar and pumpkin-scented candles. 

Susan sat up from her bed abruptly and jerked her head to the side. Six o’ clock. I must get ready for work!

Susan hurriedly bread her hands, popped her soap in the toaster, ironed the carpet, and tore down Main Street. In her urgency, she went two miles above the speed limit. 

Seeds of doubts sprouted worries in her mind. Do I really have what it takes to be an eco-terrorist? Susan fancied herself the very image of perfection. Was she not? She who kept her lawn so neatly trimmed? Who’s china was so neatly kept? Susan breathed rapidly. She who ravaged a Denny’s…

Destruction. 

Peace. 

Order. 

Susan whirled into the parking lot of the recording studio, blew past everyone without a word, avoiding inquisitive eyes, avoiding accusatory fingers, planting her ass firmly in her little red rolling chair. She took a deep breath. Be the good…that Martha Stewart wants you to be. 

Rivers ran up on stage, grabbed Susan’s face and kissed her passionately. Susan stumbled backwards, bracing herself against the desk. This was NOT an appropriate workplace activity. But Susan could not help herself. She returned the expression, kissing Rivers hungrily, barely noticing the notecards that had been pressed into her hand. 

“We’re on in five!”

Rivers pulled away and Susan gasped for breath. “Read these exactly as they are written Susan,” Rivers said. 

Susan dared not look down at the paper in her hand. What horrible dreadful things would be written on them?

Television static buzzed in her head. Someone was counting down. 

The cameras trained on her. 

“Now we will go live to Susan Kelvin with the weather!” The news reporter  eyed Susan from her screen. “And I see you are wearing John Sunday’s signature yellow bow tie.”

Susan leaned forward slowly. 

“That I am, Fiona. I have worn it to pay my respects—God rest his soul.”

“It’s kind of weird that you were able to forecast his death in such perfect detail.”

Susan paused. 

“Yes well…he had a heart condition. So it was only a matter of time really. 

“Of course.”

Susan exhaled deeply, and looked down. 

Written on the notecards were not the names of oil barons to kill. Not golf courses to destroy. Not death, not destruction. Written on the card was simply the words “rain for everyone”

The television static grew purple.

Rain for everyone. 

It was insulting.

“...Susan?”

Her eyes met Rivers. She was grinning ear to ear. 

Rain for everyone.

Susan’s whole body shook as she began to deliver her forecast, “A cloud… will appear.”

The room melted away, only Rivers remained. 

“Right over my house. A cloud will appear and it will rain. And it will never stop raining.”

Rivers smile twisted into a look of abject horror. 

“And my pansies will respond to the rain. They will be the brightest purple. They will be the envy of all you disgusting animals.” Susan hadn’t noticed but she was screaming every word.

The ground beneath the recording studio quaked from thunder. The contract had been broken, wrath was eminent. 

“I AM NOT EMPTY! I AM FULL OF PANSIES! I AM FULL OF RAIN.” 

Flowers began sprouting from Susan’s ears, nose and eyes. Water poured from her mouth onto the floor. Choking on rain, Susan finished her forecast.

“And that…just about…wraps it up. Ba–ck…to you!”

A bolt of lightning shot down from the heavens, miraculously cutting through the walls of the recording studio, striking Susan. She fell from the stage. Shortly after, more bolts came and the recording studio violently burst into flames.

Forty-seven dead. Bodies near unrecognizable. Eyewitnesses said that the weather was to blame but Ms. Rivers knew that it was anything but that. Homicide. Divine intervention.

Rivers stood alone in the parking lot, charred bow tie in one hand, and in the other, a flash drive that contained the cure for the goddess of earth. The only god. “Damn you.” Her fingers closed around the yellow cloth. The weather was about to get so much worse.

But for now, rain fell in sheets from the sky above Susan Kelvin's house, with no sign of stopping. Her pansy grew taller than cornstalks, stretching upwards, garishly purple. But Susan would never see them. Susan Kelvin was gone. 

Though, some say that on hot summer days when the sky is endless blue, at the back of your neighborhood Denny’s, you can feel her.

Crawling on your leg.  

[amber-michaelson]

Meeting The Slytherins

Part 4

Series Masterlist

Yandere Hogworts x reader

Summary: meeting a boy by the lake turns into meeting the group

Added/Edited Characters

Read At Own Risk

Warnings: none

Yn pov

My Other Harry Potter Works

Sighing as I slowly made my way down to the lake, finally escaped the people pushing and shoving to get to me and ask if I was the culprit of the incident my voice becoming sore of how many times I had to say 'I didn't do it' i made my way to my usual which was by an old oak tree whos branches reached quite far over the water "finally piece and quiet" i murmured to myself and took out my fantastic beasts book and continued reading from where I left off but after awhile I started to feel restless as if someone was watching me I kept glancing over both my shoulders to see if anyone was there "looking the wrong way princess" I screamed as a boy dropped down beside me "what the heck you scared me" I yelled jumping up "well princess you should of been more careful, what if I was a death eater" he smirked coming towards "you would've had your wand drawn" I snickered before sighing heavily "what's wrong princess" he chuckled leaning onto the tree "you disturbed my peace now I have to find somewhere else to get away from everyone" I murmured packing up my stuff "I know how you feel, I'm Mattheo Riddle by the way what's your name" he said kicking off the tree to stand next to me "yn ln" I uttered and turned to leave "hey how about you come meet my friends" I looked at him questionly "we just met" I said "doesn't stop me princess" he chuckled and grabbed my hand dragging me back up to hogwarts and down into the Slytherin common room finally letting go once the door was closed "you didn't have to drag me, you know" I muttered straightening out my clothes "but it's fine" he smirked and led me to the couch infront of the fire which was burning bright "Malfoy, Nott, Berkshire get your butt down here" Mattheo yelled as he drapped his arm over the couch behind me "oh hello" I looked behind me at the group of boys came down the stairs "I'm draco malfoy" the platinum blonde boy smirked as he sat across from me "Lorenzo Berkshire at your service" one of the others said as he sat beside me and the last one stood behind me "Theodore Nott" he chuckled as I bent my head back so I could look at him "yn ln" I said but something at the corner of my eye caught my attention I turned my head to see fully who it was but their were covered by shadow so I couldn't see who it was "Tom brother your scaring our little hufflepuff here" Mattheo murmured I blushed seeing a handsome boy come out and introduced himself "weren't you the girl who found ms Norris" theo said bringing my attention back to the group "yea I was" I whispered looking down to my hands which were layed on my lap "oh is that why you wanted to be alone princess" mattheo whispered into my ear "yeah it was" I murmured looking up at him "oh my gosh is this the pretty girl you were talking about" a girl squealed as she ran over to me and squished my cheeks together "pansy leave her alone" draco complained "fine" she murmured childishly before sitting on the armchair by draco "dam I thought Slytherins were supposed to be badass" I giggled only to get playful glares from them 'they aren't as bad as everyone said'.

Part 5

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[missdawnandherdusk]

The Innocent

Draco x Reader

The Case The Defendant The Witness

The Auror The Confession The Deceased

The Verdict

Summary: The day in court is finally here... for better or worse.

A/n: I was going to make this realistic... but then I thought to hell with that. This is fiction which means good prevails and love wins so screw reality. I'd like to personally dedicate this one to @drcelly love you

I paced back and forth on that marble floor. Draco was in Dr. Dresden’s office for over an hour with the Minister of Magic and a few other high ranking officials, as well as Pansy Parkinson, who was now the CEO of The Prophet. 

Anxiety clawed its way up my throat. All of this was going to go horribly wrong. I would lose my future. I would lose the case. Draco would lose his son. And I would lose Draco. Perfect destruction all laid out in front of me and it was all my fault. 

The door opened. My eyes flashed up. My heart hammered in my chest. Dr. Dresden appeared, gave me a tight look but nodded before heading on his way. Then the Minister left, giving me a small smile. Then other nameless officials. None of them said a word. Pansy left the office, still scribbling down notes while also being on a mobile fire call. 

Finally Draco appeared. All of my hopes were reading his facial expressions. 

The door clicked closed behind him. 

His face was solemn. 

My heart sank. 

He held out his hand for me to shake. 

Chewing on my lip, I reached out and he firmly grasped my hand in his. 

“I’ll see you in court on Tuesday, Ms. Public Defender,” A smile curled onto his face. 

I choked out a laugh. Tears pricked my eyes. I dropped his hand and threw my arms around his neck. Draco held me close. 

“Thank you,” I was crying. “Thank you, Draco.” 

“You deserve this Y/n. I’ve never seen anyone work harder to prove my innocence and I want you there with me,” 

We were face to face, threads of hope tying us together. 

“How—how did you even…?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Draco smiled warmly. “It’s going to be okay. I wasn’t going to let anyone do that to you,” 

“But Dresden…” 

“Will keep his mouth shut if he knows what’s good for him.” Draco said cooly. 

“Are you blackmailing him?” 

“No darling,” Draco laughed softly. “But Pansy is the head of The Prophet and if he wants to go through with what he tried to pull on you—it will be headlining the papers for weeks to come,” 

“So we did it?” I dared to hope. 

“Well, you still have a case to win,” Draco said, amused. “But, yes I suppose we did.” 

“Thank you,” I said earnestly, hugging him again. 

“No thank you,” He said. “You are the only person who ever convinced me that I was innocent.” 

“You are,” I said. “And soon the whole world is going to know it.” Before I got lost too far in his eyes, I recovered. “I’ll… I’ll be over Monday evening? To tie up any loose ends before the case.” 

“As you wish,” Draco bowed his head and turned to leave. I stood there, watching him go, warmth spreading through my chest. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was nearing ten o’clock at night. Almost everything had been combed through and knit-picked. I thought we were done, and God I wanted to be. I could barely keep my thoughts on track. Draco’s study was so cozy and peaceful, with the fire going and soft music coming from who knows where. Even Draco looked half asleep sitting at his desk in a cardigan and loafers. My heels were long forgotten as I stood on the plush carpets in my stockings. 

Rifling through my notes, I found a page of questions I had written for myself. It was the first time I ever talked over the case with Draco. It seemed like forever ago. My brows furrowed. 

“What?” Draco asked, perking up. 

“Nothing,” I shook my head. “Just some notes. It’s nothing,” 

“You’re worrying,” Draco mused getting up. “Really what is it?” 

“Nothing… just a question from that first day,” A shrug fell off my shoulders. “I was asking about Harry and the Death-Eaters at the Manor that Easter.” 

“I didn’t tell them it was Potter,” Draco recalled. 

“No,” I agreed. “And you were so kind to Luna,” My fingers drifted over her witness statement. 

“Yes,” Draco admitted, “Is it important to the case?” 

I turned to look at him. “It’s important to me,” 

Draco came over, peering over my shoulder at my hand scribbled notes. He was so close I could feel his warmth. I tensed, my breath catching. Draco took the page from my fingers and read it over. I turned leaning against the ornate mahogany table. 

HIs eyes met mine. 

“I knew Potter could end the war.” He said, his eyes years away. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “I wanted to be free. I—I didn’t want to be what they wanted me to be,”  

“You’re not,” I said softly, taking my note from his hands. “And tomorrow I’m gonna prove it.” 

His grey eyes held such joy as he looked at me. His eyes flickered down to my lips and suddenly he was very close and I was too tired to make rational choices. I backed away and he did too. 

“I—it… it’s late,” I stammered. “I—I should go,” 

He didn’t say anything but gave a nod. I gathered everything as magic aided it back into my bag. I could feel the redness on my face, and I could see it on his. Every step I took felt as if I was being pulled back by invisible string. 

“Goodnight Draco,” 

“Goodnight Y/n.” 

As I laid in bed that night it wasn’t the worry of the case that weighed on my mind; it was Draco and his warm grey eyes and kind smile that held me as I found sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And before the Minister, a jury of our peers, witnesses, and those overzealous to see what came of this case, I acquitted Draco Malfoy. 

When the gavel hit the wood and his innocence rang loudly, the room erupted with applause and sounds of wonder. Scorpius’ cheers’ were louder than the rest. I couldn’t help it, and neither could Draco, as we hugged again. He spun me around before setting me down again. Scorpius interrupted us, and I had never seen Draco so happy, holding his son. 

He was free. 

They both were. 

I smile stayed on my face as Scorpius came over and gave me a hug. I knelt down and gave him a proper hug. Over the little boy’s shoulder I looked up and saw Draco gazing down at us. Some weird flickered in my chest. Letting Scorpius go, I stood. Draco closed the distance between he and I, taking Scorpius to his side. Draco’s hand wrapped around my waist as his other let go of his son to cradle my face and pull it to his. Draco kissed me. Something soft and sweet. 

And innocent. 

.

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[drarryspecificrecsdaily]

2024.06.12

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. Eternal Reunion by Splashstorm [E, 38k]

►In which Harry and Draco continue their budding friendship [from HPCC], Harry continues to be stupidly oblivious to his feelings for Draco, and Ginny is... well, she's quite alright with it all, actually.

2. When you are ready to go on... but you go back by Sakura521 [M, 175k]

►After the battle of Hogwarts ended Harry thought he could finally be done with all the drama and just have some quiet and peace, but when a freak accident strickes him down he really thinks it would be permanent this time... But he wakes up again in a otherworldly place he rolls with it and goes back in time in hopes to fix everything and no one has to die except the really bad guys. [...] Harry Potter will save everyone and make sure all his loved ones lives a perfect happy life. And if he finds something special for him too, well, he is the savior after all.

---

Fest/Exchange

1. First Impressions by Anonymous [E, 87k]

►At the Shacklebolts' ball, Ginny found herself irrevocably smitten at first sight with Ms Pansy Parkinson. Meanwhile, her brother, Harry Potter, became the unfortunate target of biting remarks from Parkinson's haughty and aloof best friend, Mr Draco Malfoy. Harry's disdain for Mr Malfoy grew, fuelled by the latter's evident arrogance. Amidst this burgeoning animosity, Ms Romilda Vane began to spread malicious rumours regarding Malfoy, further tarnishing his reputation. Yet, the true nature of his character was far from what these tales suggested. Could Draco overcome his pride and Harry his prejudice, allowing love to blossom between them despite the odds? ★ Lights Camera Drarry 2024 | @lcdrarry

2. Obscuro by Anonymous [E, 35k]

►Draco is grieving. His conversation partner is here against his will. It's a shameless rip-off of an insipid Muggle reality dating show. Hardly the occasion for true love, if you ask Draco. /// feat. a cat named Marmalade, a bird named Mumble, Lee Jordan's answer to Love is Blind, and two best friends who only want their dads to be happy. ★ Lights Camera Drarry 2024 | @lcdrarry

[lcdrarry]

LCDrarry 2024 Round-Up Post | Week 6

This is the final Round-Up Post for LCDrarry 2024. Reveals are later today, on June 15, 2024! Wheeee!

Happy reading, commenting and sharing! ;)

~Your LCDrarry Mods

PS: Please have a look at the author notes and tags on AO3 for additional information. Thank you!

PPS: Please share far and wide! Thank you!!

***

Art

***

Go the Whole Wide World

Prompt: "Stranger than Fiction", 2006, Marc Forster Prompted by: @stavromulabetaaa Artists: Anonymous Medium: Digital Art Rating: General Audiences Warnings: None

Summary: When government employee Draco Crick was assigned to audit baker Harry Pascal, neither anticipated falling in love, but sometimes the person right next to you is the most welcome surprise.

View it now on AO3.

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Fic

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Eternalism is a Never Ending Day

Prompt: "Russian Doll", 2019 Prompted by: 5u9as (ao3) Author: Anonymous Word Count: 25,970 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Temporary Suicide, Temporary MCD, implied/referenced Depression

Summary: Malfoy has been reliving the same day for longer than he can keep track of now, and has just assumed that he was dead in the real world, which was fine to him. It isn't until the time loop stops doing what he expects that it occurs to him that maybe there's something else going on.

Read it now on AO3.

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Obscuro

Prompt: "Love is Blind", 2020 Prompted by: @DrarryMyHeart Author: Anonymous Word Count: 35,227 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: None

Summary: Draco is grieving. His conversation partner is here against his will. It's a shameless rip-off of an insipid Muggle reality dating show. Hardly the occasion for true love, if you ask Draco. feat. a cat named Marmalade, a bird named Mumble, Lee Jordan's answer to Love is Blind, and two best friends who only want their dads to be happy.

Read it now on AO3.

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First Impressions

Prompt: "Pride and Prejudice", 2005, Joe Wright Prompted by: MoonyEmilie3017 (ao3) Author: Anonymous Word Count: 87,934 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Period-typical racism and colourism (only present in one chapter), A/B/O dynamics, Dubious Consent, Classism, Smut, Mpreg

Summary: At the Shacklebolts' ball, Ginny found herself irrevocably smitten at first sight with Ms Pansy Parkinson. Meanwhile, her brother, Harry Potter, became the unfortunate target of biting remarks from Parkinson's haughty and aloof best friend, Mr Draco Malfoy. Harry's disdain for Mr Malfoy grew, fuelled by the latter's evident arrogance. Amidst this burgeoning animosity, Ms Romilda Vane began to spread malicious rumours regarding Malfoy, further tarnishing his reputation. Yet, the true nature of his character was far from what these tales suggested. Could Draco overcome his pride and Harry his prejudice, allowing love to blossom between them despite the odds?

Read it now on AO3.

***

Please help promote the fest by sharing your favourite submissions, so more people can enjoy all the amazing new Drarry works of LCDrarry. Thank you!

Creator reveals are on 15 June 2024.