#thewrongsorts

[marblecarved]

@thewrongsorts sent a letter to elphias doge: ‘‘ just tell me everything’s gonna be okay. ’’

prompt: softer prompts. 

Silence settles between them as her voice trails off, heavy as a winter duvet. Intertwining his hands, Elphias peers at Alice from under his bushy brows. What she is asking of him is simple enough to do — considering the situation, who wouldn't want to hear reassuring words from a friend ? 

Yet, Elphias hesitates visibly. He opens his mouth, starts to say ❝ Alice... ❞ and, when nothing else follows, he closes his mouth, sighing through his nose. It's not that simple — truth be told.

Indeed, in any other situation he would gladly reassure a friend, perhaps adding a wide smile that would do nothing else but emphasize the wrinkles around his mouth. But now ? ❝ Alice, ❞ again, Elphias starts with her name, leaning ever so slightly forward. ❝ Everything is going to be okay, ❞ now, when he doesn't even believe his own words, it feels like he just told Alice an obvious lie. ❝ Everything, ❞ it's this that he decides to repeat, thinking that, by voicing it with more certainty, it would make even himself believe it to be true. 

[adveanture]

      *      THEWRONGSORTS      /      ft.   alice      —      “      you   know   you   can   talk   to   me.      ”

despite   the   love   she   is   given   by   all   of   her   friends,   lily   feels   impossibly   alone.         her   pregnancy,   though   it’s   planned      —      as   it   ever   can   be,   at   least      —      is   nothing   she   expects   .   .   .      because   she   never   expects   to   go   through   it   without   her   mother   or   sister.      and   even   though   she   and   petunia   have   not   been   close   since   childhood,   the   knowledge   that   they   are   both   pregnant   at   the   same   time,   both   of   them   without   their   mother,   but   without   each   other   as   well,   is   a   new   heartbreak   to   bear.      she   sniffles   one   more   time,   wiping   at   her   face   and   looking   to   @thewrongsorts​​.      alice   is   farther   along   than   lily,   but   not   by   much.      she   is   older,   but   she   looks   to   lily   with   a   sort   of   camaraderie   even   her   closest   friends   cannot   give.            “      it   just      —      all   of   it   feels   so   sudden   and   so   fast   .   .   .      but   it   also   feels   like   every   day   will   last   forever.      and   i’m   so   happy      —      but   i’m   also   afraid,   and   i   feels   so   stupid   for   doing   this   all   at   once   .   .   .      ”            emerald   eyes   fill   up   with   tears   anew.            “      do   you   think   i’m   going   to   be   a   terrible   mother,   alice?      ”

[weasleyandweasley]

@thewrongsorts

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ,   ❝ Oy, is it true you're staying the entire month?! ❞ A bit of excitement in his voice as he asks Charlie. If true, once George got home he'd be pretty thrilled with it too. ❝ Is there a special occasion? Or you just miss us that much? ❞ He teased.

[foundationsbuilt]

James Potter ( @thewrongsorts​ ) said ❝ i think the whole idea of ‘finding yourself’ is kind of bullshit.  we are what we chose to be.  we make ourselves. ❞

Or what our parents make us.

James had it easy,  had the choice of choice,  whereas Sirius only had the path that his parents laid out before he’d even been born,  that had been written and signed on before even they had been born.  The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black only had one path.

‘ I suppose so, ’  he said anyway,  because James didn’t quite understand.  

Sirius didn’t blame him for it,  not when the insanity of his bloodline was finding starting to sink in.  No one who hadn’t had legacy shoved down their throat all their lives would be able to. 

[spellwrites]

@thewrongsorts | cont from here

Sometimes you gotta do worse, Manon thinks, first. It’s both her gut instinct and an admonition Imogen probably needs to hear; don’t think she hasn’t noticed the younger witch tip-toeing her way around taking a life. It wouldn’t bother her if it didn’t come hand-in-hand with that insistence on throwing herself out onto front lines, but — Ç'est une douleur dans le cul, yeah?

At some point you have to be ready kill, or you’re going to get someone killed.

“Yeah,” she finally shrugs, casually, with a wry, sharp sort of smile. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me.”

Hell, she does love the willingness to resort to such a mundane attack, especially from a pureblood like Imogen. Too many wizards never think to go for the tried-and-true classic hits. Sometimes a well-placed knife is worth more than any spell.

It’s what she likes best about Imogen, that resourcefulness.

Imogen grinned. "See, this is why we get along so well," she said, "You, me, Severus... I'm not counting Mad-Eye; he's just insane. Molly Weasley's not gonna - actually Molly would tear out someone's jugular with her teeth if they threatened her kids. Arthur Weasley isn't unhinged enough to do something like that."

There was, of course, the unspoken difference that set Imogen apart from Manon, Severus, Mad-Eye... Lupin. She was prepared to do whatever it took to win... but only to a point. She wouldn't - couldn't - cross that line, to take a life with her own wand. She had no better reason for it than cowardice. She wondered if Manon had noticed.

Mad-Eye, Lupin - she knew they'd already crossed it. Severus... with a signature spell like Sectumsempra, she could only assume. Had Manon...?

[auriibus]

@thewrongsorts

Uncle Jamie

❛❛ why does this apple cider taste like liquor? ❜❜ (james)

She had half a mind to immediately blame the Weasley twins despite the idea of adding a little… surprise to the cider being her idea entirely. But it seemed the only part of her mind Eris did currently have was not her rational one at the moment. There was a glance from Ron, and then to Fred for a moment before her gaze settled on her Uncle, a perhaps shiteating grin on her lips as she shrugged and held her third glass of cider close to her body. “It tastes like normal cider to me. Did you take dads cup accidentally?”

[ofblackskies]

‘ oh , you’re giving the speech tonight? ’ (kingsley, for harry)

Harry absolutely stilled. Him? He was giving the speech? Was Shacklebolt asking him, or telling him? Harry had not been prepared for a speech, but as Mad-Eye muttered and droned on about how ‘this wasn’t my plan but it has merit’ and ‘the boy surprisingly knows what he’s doing’, Harry knew that Kingsley was right. Moody was getting ready to hand the reigns over to him, and he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready by far to lead an Order of the Phoenix meeting! Oh no. Leading one for Dumbledore’s Army was bad enough, but at least that was only with kids his own age. And besides, Harry hadn’t even made this plan! He had just… helped.

Soon, a hand was coming down on his shoulder and the weight of it made Harry wince. He knew Mad-Eye’s hand. He had clasped him over the shoulder like this many times before, but this time it was to shove him to the forefront of the crowd. This was punishment, he was sure of it, for insisting he was ready to join the Order. So there were two options. Either admit he was wrong and he wasn’t ready for this… or…

Harry cleared his throat. “Right… thanks, Profes- er. Moody. Thanks, Moody.” That was still weird. But he had caught his robot eye dead on and felt the annoyance at almost being called Professor again. “So erm… from what we’ve gathered, they’re going to be inducting students in the Forbidden Forest after the sorting dinner this year. We know that the school isn’t, er, going to be safe this year. Nothing is now. That’s a given.” He caught Kingsley’s eye and swallowed back his nerves a little. “But if we can get our feet on the ground in the places most likely to be used, then we can catch some current Death Eaters and save some students from making the mistake of becoming one. I know the forest well enough… and these are the three most likely locations.” Harry pulled up a rough map and cleared his throat again. “And this… is where I’d bet they’re going to show.” He pointed to a clearing.

[eglcntine-archived]

“ do you expect me to believe that you’ve changed ? ” // ??? // @thewrongsorts , James Potter

"Ha."

Severus scoffed, not the least bit surprised. Here comes James Potter, the audience's most beloved, to steal the show. His line delivered with an expert level of skepticism that Severus could not contend. No need to ask for their line when its already been taken. Nimue forbid if they were ever to say it themself. Their head would be had and not even by Potter himself.

Why should they justify their presence? Albus asked them to be as they are, not to play nice and pretend. Severus does not need to be anything more than civil when anything else would be well ignored and rejected.

With a wry smile, wine colored lips creased, they remarked with ease, sitting back in their office chair; legs crossed, and hands entwined upon their knees, "Why would I expect you to believe anything?"

Truly. It would be nothing less than foolish of them.

Time has treated neither Potter or Severus well. Be it the aging mind at all too young of an age, or the wrinkles and creases that are blatantly on display. Well concealed under a layer of makeup applied with the utmost precision on their part, skills well earned from years of caring for their mother. The clothes on their back is finer than anything Severus has worn when he and they were younger. An elegant witch's robe from an unknown tailor, coveting the finest shade of black. All consuming where strands of ink blended into the material with ease.

"You have your own truths," Severus pointed out, "What I say or believe means nothing."

"Spin your story, Potter," they continued, returning to their work at hand. Recording recipes improved by their own two hands to pass on to children who will never see beyond the written word society oh so worshipped well.

"I'm sure I'll play my part as intended."

[bewitchingbaker]

❛ today isn’t your day, is it? ❜ (manon)

@thewrongsorts

Chris sighed along with a low grumble of annoyance. Thanks to the spilled hot chocolate that stained his shirt. The baker couldn't be too mad, it was his own fault for moving too fast. Luckily, it was just him and Manon, so he didn't mind making the mistakes.

He grabbed a towel, carefully wiping up the spill from the table.

"When you're right," Chris began, "You're right. But it's only the second mistake of the day...nothing else could go wrong."

[lcvedriven]

“I think the cat just ate some tinsel off the tree.” (james, for sirius)

"shit, what?" he spins around from where he's decorating a dollhouse for harry. he bought it from a muggle store, but that's not good enough! he's got to update it. it's got to be wizardized. he's charming the doors to open when they're poked and the lights to turn on and music to play - which he's sure is going to positively thrill everyone. he might repaint the dolls to have little cloaks.

okay, so maybe he's making a dollhouse he wishes he had when he was little. that's the point of being an uncle, right?

"i'm not a cat healer." he is, sometimes, a dog and wolf healer. "you're going to have to poke through it's poop. that's a you thing now."

[marblecarved]

@thewrongsorts sent a letter to horace slughorn: ‘‘ loyalty is the greatest gift of all. ’’

prompt: priory of the orange tree.

Horace directs a smile towards his former student — but it does not reach his eyes. Indeed, it is too tight there, at the corners, mirroring his well-hidden confusion. What brought on this sudden talk about loyalty ? Horace brings his hands towards the lapels of his coat, and takes a perhaps too-tight hold of them. Is it about ... ? No, the thought is brushed aside as though it is a mere speck of dust, not even giving it time to settle, and Horace shifts from one foot to the other.

It's not about him. It can’t be. Thinking this does little to reassure him, however.

❝ Indeed it is, m'boy, ❞ not wanting to let his silence stretch out even further, Horace answers using a tone that sounds decidingly more chipper than he feels. ❝ Indeed, ❞ a considering pause, then he continues thus. ❝ And it must not be given lightly, eh ? After all, ❞ a bushy brow arches upward, and he leans slightly forward, all the while keeping hold of the lapels. ❝ One never knows if it will be returned. ❞

[passerbytanuki]

I really wanna cry 😭😭😭😭 I adore EVER SINGLE ONE OF HER FICS but I'm not a social media person so I just thought I hadn't seen any updates from her cuz ya know.... life and shit happens!

I usually don't find it weird when I don't see any updates from an author cuz they are people too with jobs and families so I usually just drop a comment with well wishes or encouragement and try not to be a bother or a stress factor

But this! What the hell is this!!!!???😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 why are people like that? A kind person like Caf did. not. deserve this in her life 😡🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬 SHAME TO WHOEVER YOU ARE THAT DID THIS TO HER!

I hope one day she'll grace us with her writing again 🥺

[hungryyheartarchive]

shitty horoscopes

tagged by: @thewrongsorts (you should do this for @nabaidhean-neonach​ and @strszyga​!!) 

tagging: @draggeddowntothedark​, @diviinitatis​, @oceansvanidicus​, @dvarapala​, @sunrisemuses​, @thebrazenandbold​, @vihilum​, @donmask​

take a long shower, wash your hair. wash the clothes you were wearing. wash the memories from your mind and body.

loneliness is a fracture that never heals quite right.

you win some, you lose some, you lie, cheat, and swindle some, you vanish on a crisp winter’s day, never to be seen again.

the aftermath of your life affords you three real options: obscurity, legend, or horror story.

self reflection is important! whether you like what you see is up for debate. whether it can be contained in a dark basement is another matter entirely. 

[spellwrites]

shitty horoscopes

(use the drop-down menu at the top to see more)

tagged by: @thewrongsorts tagging: you! steal it!

Imogen: Scorpio (Nov 13, 1972)

what did you ever do to deserve this? in all probability, something terrible

in the process your body is subsumed piece by piece

you may not want to change, but the world is unforgiving and will do it for you anyway

you will not be swayed by the morally destitute

you are every mother's cautionary tale

it pays to kill with kindness when you're your own worst enemy

suspend belief. expel fear. throw reason into a frigid cell, never to be seen again

anathema - me without you

being loathsome and lovely in equal measure is probably a talent. somewhere

grief and growth live hand-in-hand

in the end there is no blaze of glory

you've long seen your downfall spelled out in another's bones

ok but the way almost every single one of these is spot on for Imogen is uncanny. damn

[auriibus]

@thewrongsorts

“so… are we not gonna talk about whatever you just nudged under the bed?” (james)

"Do we have to...?" Eris asked with a raised brow and tilted head, and an innocent look playing on her features as if that would be enough to deter her uncles line of questioning. "I think the real question here is: do you really want to know?"

[eglcntine-archived]

❝ if we live through this, remind me to thank you. ❞ // ???? // @thewrongsorts , Kingsley

"Only if?" Severus jested in return, wry smile and all. Outside in the remnants of a garden rumored to have once been great and grand under the green thumb of Walburga Black.

Sirius must be most pleased at the state of it.

Severus, on the hand, feels remorse for the loss of life. Vegetation stripped of any opportunity to thrive by the loss of one.

They would care for it. Although, Severus supposed, Sirius would set the house aflame if they ever dared to leave a trace of magic behind. Nimue forbid if they lingered in this decaying home for anymore than a second. The mere act of breathing will strike Sirius' anger on their part.

With a cigarette dangling between middle and index, whisps of smoke made mindless patterns in the light of the night sky. A moment's break granted to them ever so graciously by Severus' master. They should feel humored that Kingsley would find it feasible to waste time with them of all those with greater social skills than what they possessed.

"Have no fear," they remarked playfully, holding their cigarette out in a silent offer. A wine colored stain to be found embracing the filter where lips showed love.

"I'll be sure to remind you to grovel at my feet."

They jest, of course.