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@evitantiisms
CHARLIE WEASLEY
hey, isn’t that CHARLIE F. WEASLEY? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the THIRTY ONE year old pureblood WIX is a GRYFFINDOR alumnus who has gone on to be a DRAGONOLOGIST. i’ve heard they can be quite DAUNTLESS & ADAPTABLE, but i don’t know… they came off very CLUMSY & AVOIDANT in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it?
dependent Harry Potter rp blog penned by Caro!!
playlist. pinterest. intro.
petriichvrs:
that isn’t good enough, but that’s not his fault. charlie can’t conjure good news out of thin air and ginny shouldn’t direct her annoyance at that fact towards him or anyone else, but that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t want to or that it wouldn’t make her feel any better ( however temporarily ) if she did. she bites down on the inside of her cheek for the time being, stopping herself from putting voice to this and the great many other thoughts chasing their way around her brain, each of them worse than the last. coward, she thinks, viciously. no more useful now than you were in romania.
it’s no surprise when she tastes blood.
“yes,” she lies, short and stilted in the way forever bound to betray her. she knows that’s half the problem as well as she knows that roles reversed, she’d be asking much the same, but the roles are assigned as they are and ginny thinks it’s an awfully stupid question when it comes from him. she twists around in her chair, again, so that she’s facing the plain beige wall with her feet flat upon the ground, sure that looking anywhere but directly at him will stem the bubbling irritation that he doesn’t really deserve. she gives in. “no. ‘can’t. not ‘til i know if mum’s alright. where’s everyone else?”
Even if he wanted to blame her, he couldn’t. Of the things Charlie is chiefly aware of in life, the fact that he let his family down pretty much tops the list. There’s nothing he can do to fix it now, no potions or time-travel to go back and alter the course of his own cowardice. His own self-interest. All he can do is make different choices going forward. Sometimes, it feels good enough. Most of the time, it feels like shit.
And now, with tensions running high as is, he can’t fault her for the way Ginny handles her grief. Not for the knee-jerk lie or the way she turns her back to him or even the way she eventually gives way to the truth, despite the fact that they both know it could’ve gone unsaid. ( Then again, so could his question. They share one similarity there. ) The hurt it rips through him is his own cross to bear, he knows, and so he will. Later, on his own time. Not now when he can perhaps be at least a little useful. Even if it’s just giving them someone to throw their daggers at other than each other.
“Dad’s still in there,” he says finally, leaning back in the seat and staring up at the point where the wall and ceiling meet. “Percy’s got his own room, they’ll let him out in the morning. Ron’s around here somewhere, getting tea or something I think. George...” He stops, bites back a sigh. “George went for a walk a while back. Haven’t seen him since. I think it’s hard for him to...” Charlie trails off, doesn’t finish the sentence. He can’t. “All accounted for, loosely.”
chacswins:
Moments like this make her hands shake, just when she already feels terrible. But she takes his hand anyway, squeezing it to show her gratitude with a small gesture. His words make her pause, her eyes screwing tightly shut. “No…No, I can’t. Not when I have to stay strong for him.” She goes against her own wishes and wraps her arms around him. It’s a rushed thing, she almost worries she’s knocked him over, she holds on tight. “…Sorry.”
Maybe it’s cliché to say that he hates seeing her like this, but that doesn’t make it any less true. On reflex, Charlie wraps his arms around Tonks, holding her close. One hand braces the back of her head, the other falls around her back, cradling her close and tight. Providing her any semblance of safety and stability he can offer in this moment. It’s not enough. Only her husband would be enough. Only less tragedy would be enough. Only things he can’t give would be enough. But it’s what he has. “Don’t got anything to be sorry for,” he says softly, resting his chin atop her head. “You’re not alone in this, y’know.”
chacswins:
She dreams of her children before she wakes up, of her and Arthur when they were first married and watching their grown kids. Holding hands as they watch their future, their whole worlds. When Molly opens her eyes, ginger hair very predictably is what her eyes find first. Laying with his head down on the bed, it’s clear he didn’t mean to fall asleep but his body forced him to before he could protest. Her strength is extremely limited, but she pushes it to place her hand on top of his head, gently rousing him awake.
“Darling.” She says in a small whisper.
@evitantiisms
Charlie does not sleep peacefully. His dreams are a hellscape of death and despair, friends and family alike in unimaginably horrendous scenarios. In every single one, he is helpless to stop it. Or if not helpless, then too scared. Perhaps his dreams aren’t so different from his waking hours, these days. He jerks awake at his mother’s touch, rousing forcefully and blinking up at her. There’s a few seconds where he doesn’t recognize her. Or at least doesn’t recognize that he’s awake. ( It’s not the first dream of her in the hospital. It likely won’t be the last. )
“Mum?” There’s shame in the way his voice cracks, rough with emotion at the sight of her. Hands move fast to clasp over hers. Finally, good news. Finally, something worth telling the others. “Shit. Mum--how--how do you feel?”
petriichvrs:
𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 : st mungo’s hospital for magical maladies and injuries ! 𝙵𝙴𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 : @dolors / @hoggleswart / @evitantiisms / @roonils !
she had given up on trying to fall asleep somewhere in the first few hours of waiting, but they’d be forgiven for thinking she’d finally managed it. realising that she couldn’t stand even the thought of small talk at a time like this, ginny had curled herself up into a tight ball on the plastic hospital chairs claimed her own, facing the wall so the light didn’t catch on her open eyes and betray her. even if she’d wanted to, she’d never have gotten a peaceful rest when the very worst of the thoughts that were running around her mind conjured up even worse images, when she closed her eyes.
as she lay there, she tried to focus on everything but her worries - the soft beeping from machines a corridor away, the gentle hum of voices from the opposite direction, even the ache beginning to set into her bones that she actively refused to remedy because at least it offset the sickly feeling in her stomach that only grew the longer that she waited - but it was no good. thoughts strayed back to molly no matter how hard she willed them elsewhere and the idea of her mother being a survivor didn’t bring the kind of comfort that ginny desperately wanted when that could now only be found in her arms. she didn’t realise that she’d started crying until one silent tear made a path over her nose, dripping to the plastic below her head.
a long time later, the sound of the waiting room door opening and closing again drew her back into the room with a start. eyes now dry but bleary, ginny unfolded her limbs and forced herself into an upright seated position, every muscle in her body protesting the sudden change. “what is it? is there any news?” voice hoarse from hours of disuse and sheer exhaustion, ginny was too over eager to hear whatever they might know to care how absolutely disheveled she looked and sounded, “is mum okay?”
He feels like shit. They all do, of course, for any number of fucking reasons that are all valid and all stem back to the shit-show of the derby and he’s got to get his shit together. Self-pity isn’t helping anything, least of all his siblings. And as he’s the oldest child on deck at the moment, there’s a distinct feeling of shouldering the responsibility here. It falls to him to be the barer of bad news. To shoulder their pain on top of his own. Not to Percy, who took up the helm when both he and Bill left. Not to Ron and Ginny, who have seen their fair share of carnage. Not to George, left without a twin. To Charlie.
So when he steps into the waiting room and watches his sister jerk to consciousness, he puts on a brave face. He drops into the seat beside her, careful to keep his expression optimistic, hopeful in the face of the absolute fuck-all he has to offer. Hands fold in his lap and he leans forward to brace his elbows on his knees. “Nothing much to report, really, Gin.” It sounds strained even to him, and his throat closes up at the end, choking on the sound. “I wish I had something helpful, I just... needed a minute.”
The truth. Not pretty, but what he has to offer. Charlie looks at her for a moment, runs his fingers through his hair, tries to come up with something better to say. “Have you gotten any sleep?”
qviddiitch:
“do my eyes deceive me? or is the charlie weasley standing in my apartment?” oliver laughed as he closed the door with a flick of his wand, careful not to let it slam. “i can’t believe you’re hear,” he chuckled as he stepped further into the apartment. “set that anywhere,” he gestured vaguely, “there should be room in the fridge,” he wasn’t entirely sure, but the last he’d checked it was on the empty side. “i’ve been great,” he laughed, “and you?”
“Nah, your eyes are good as any right now.” He says it with a booming laugh, swiftly moving his way through Oliver’s flat and towards the kitchen. Broom is set down first, leaning against the counter as he then eases the grocery bags onto the top and starts unloading them. It’s easy, methodical, almost thoughtless as he makes his way through the process, eventually setting the refrigerated items into the open space in the fridge. “Been doing alright, really. Glad to hear you have, as well. What with that quidditch career taking off and all.”
chacswins:
He wants to insist, she knows him well enough to catch that. All Weasleys were like that, she found. They were always caregivers and protectors, most of the time anyway. “Thank you.” She knows how much it’s taking him to not insist on getting Teddy himself. “It stresses him out when I don’t, the kid is particular. And…I can’t let him think something is wrong, I can’t.”
--
Charlie knows better than to push. He’s not Teddy’s parent, after all, and he has no authority to make the calls about his safety or well-being. Not unless Tonks explicitly gives it to him, which she hasn’t. Which he doesn’t think she ever will--not that he faults her for it. He offers her his hand as he stands up, a small gesture to show she’s got someone to fall back on. “Sure, that makes sense.” Voice keeps steady, intentionally low and soft. “But maybe remember every now and then to let yourself feel things, yeah? You’ve got as much right to be okay and feel your shit as he does.”
☀ - my muse refuses to talk about
Charlie refuses to talk about his grief, as if denying himself the ability to process it will spare him the pain of it. This isn't true and he knows it isn't, can feel the way it eats away at parts of him every single day. Perhaps it's a form of self-punishment for not being able to stop it, for not being more involved, for not getting there sooner. There's a thousand things he could've done differently, and there's part of him that believes that if he'd done those things, his brother and so many others might still have been alive. So maybe he deserves to suffer.
❛ cool , bring it in , man ! ❜ -- @qviddiitch
Charlie lets out a laugh, easy smile slipping across his features, as he slips over the threshold and into Oliver’s space. The grocery bags looped over his his arms are heavy, full of snacks and drinks and the kind of shit you’d generally bring to a party--and the broom clutched gently in his arms has seen better days. But that’s the point of this, right? Take a day to hang out with an old friend (or at least old teammate, if nothing else) and do some long-overdue broom care. He steps through into the living room and gingerly sets the broom down in a chair, moving quickly then towards the kitchen. “How’ve you been, mate? It’s been ages.”
chacswins:
“No.” It’s soft and gentle, almost guiltily. She forces herself to stand, she will move forward - she always has and always will. Teddy needs her, and that’s all that matters now. Her dark moments come, but Tonks forced herself to learn how to march by them. It’ll backfire on her soon enough, maybe it started to already. “I’ll go get him, but…come with me?”
It’s not that he thinks she can’t do it--he knows she can, because she has and she’s brilliant and he can count on one hand the number of people he thinks are as brave as she is. It’s that he wants to help. Wants to insist she take a rest, give herself the time to grieve, because there’s this itch in the back of his mind insisting that she hasn’t done it. Not fully. And she deserves to. But instead of saying any of that, instead of pushing, he nods and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I can definitely do that.”
petriichvrs:
“would it make you feel less guilty if i told you that if i WAS interested, i’d abandon you in a heartbeat?” she’s only half kidding, too. it’s bad form to disappear when it’s just the two of them out for a few quite hogsmeade drinks, but on larger weasley night outs, ginny has very few qualms about being the one that disappears - she usually has the good grace to guilty in the morning, but night of, she never feels that bad. “you don’t have to flirt once and say goodbye forever. you could exchange details like they did in the olden days and actually keep in touch - remember? like how you used to?” another, much softer jab to his side. ginny thinks making fun of how old he is probably hurts all the more. “come on; don’t you wanna give mum another wedding to cry over, someday?”
“Better you be rude than me, hmm? Your shit’s not on my conscience.” He’s not sure whether she’s joking or not, given that he’s lacking the context of most of the previous Weasley family engagements. Or at least the ones since she’s grown up. It’s not something he’s proud of, or a thought he particularly wants to linger on, so instead he rolls his eyes, fingers drumming on the table. He, for the record, is definitely joking. Until she cracks the joke about his age, that is, and then he pulls an expression mockingly half-wounded. “You make me sound ancient, Gin.” Though to be fair sometimes it feels like he is. It’s probably something he should process more, but he won’t. Not any time soon anyway. “Who says I’m the one to give them the next wedding? Just because Bill went and got hitched doesn’t mean I’m next up. Could be George. Or Percy. Or hell, even Ron.” There’s a beat of pause. “I dunno that the whole marriage thing is for me, to be honest.”
Ian and Lip || Shameless S11E12
𝔗𝔯𝔦𝔴𝔦𝔷𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔗𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞 ℜ𝔬𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱
With the Triwizard Tournament’s first task--a skill-based challenge centered around the arrival of four species of dragons--now complete, we stopped a few of the staff to discuss the tournament and what it means to them. Charles Weasley, a former Hogwarts student who now works with some of the same dragons on a reserve in Romania, had this to say: “It’s a bit weird being back, sure. Never really thought I’d be able to bring dragons back to my old school, but here we are. I guess you can never quite predict what your future will look like.” Weasley, along with several other dragonologists from the Romanian reserve, will be traveling back with the great creatures to ensure their safe travels in just a few short days.
petriichvrs:
𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄: no room for heteronormativity in here. 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐘: @evitantiisms !
“are you really implying that i’m hetero?” oh, she’s never been so wounded. hand clutches at her heart as if a sudden pain has shot right through it and brown eyes widen like saucers, mouth falling open into an affronted little o - it’s really only so good an act because she feels every OUNCE of her offense this many firewhiskeys in. “i didn’t say i wanted to go talk to him-” she recovers enough ( lips twisted into angry frown, now, the dropping of her hand conveniently allowing an opportunity to jab him in the side ) to say, though she remains mortally offended that her innocent ‘do you think that guy is hot?’ has been so wildly misconstrued when what she meant by it, was, “but i was going to say that YOU should. when’s the last time you had that kind of mindless fun?”
Accusing any of the Weasley children of being hetero is a vastly laughable thought. Charlie knew it when the joke slipped out of his mouth and he knows it even better know with the blunt poke of his sister’s finger in his side to prove it. The laugh that it pulls out of him, even as he swats her hand away, is probably one of the first real ones he’s had all day. A disastrous pair these two make, sitting in a corner booth with their eyes wandering the crowd. Let two things go on the record, though: one, Charlie’s just happy to get a laugh in with Ginny, even if it’s at the expense of a bruise to his side. Two, she’s right about the guy being hot. Three, unconfirmed but true, it’s been an exceptionally long time since the second-oldest son has allowed himself ‘that kind of mindless fun.’ “Ah, but you see--” Making up excuses on the fly has never been so easy. “I’d be a shit brother if I just bailed on you to go flirt with some random guy I’ll probably never see again. And I just can’t go on with that on my conscience.”
chacswins:
“i don’t know how to help.” from charlie / @evitantiisms to tonks !
“Then don’t.” Her hands are shaking, she hasn’t stopped crying in an hour. She has to pick up Teddy soon, this is the only thought she can allow in now. A box of her father’s old books was rediscovered by her in her attic, she forgot she ever had it. It was next to a box of Remus’s, she’s been withdrawn into herself ever since. “I was just looking for Teddy’s short sleeve shirts, I put them up here last year and it’s getting warm. I…I thought my mother had these.”
Feeling helpless is something that Charlie has grown quite accustomed to in matters of helping the people he loves. It’s a bit of an abysmal thought, really, but he stands here, looking at Tonks as waves of emotion wash over her, and he’s at a loss. There’s no undoing what’s been done. There’s no saving Remus anymore than there’s saving Fred. Mind scrambles for something helpful, something fucking useful, that he can offer. “I... I can go pick up Teddy, if you want. I’ll take him for ice cream on the way back. Give you some time to... decompress.”
“should I be concerned?” -- @impuriities
It’s not his proudest moment. Charlie is painfully aware of that fact, as he sits up from his spot on the ground, throwing elbows atop knobby knees and looking up at her. His proudest moments exist in a world far, far from this one. Bare minimum, in a metaphoric sense. In a literal one, some exist just a bit away, in a world where exams and quidditch matches took the forefront and priority. Where writing his parents and keeping an eye on Percy were some of his bigger struggles. A world away, at best. But for now, he’s sat on the dirty cobblestone of Hogsmeade, looking up at a girl who doesn’t know enough to think much of him, which may be for the better. His smile is a farce, but he tries. “About me, you mean? Probably not. Just a bit of a stumble, and really, it’s kind of nice sitting here, so... might stay a bit.”
you favorite dragon has just eaten ginny. rip ginny. it's one of two living members of it species. if you kill it, the species will die out and that blood will be on your hands. are you avenging ginny?
It would make sense for him to hesitate. Frankly, internally, there's part of him that does. It would be one of the hardest decisions he consciously made, if he were actually put in that scenario. "Yeah, of course I am. She's my sister. It's that simple, right?" They can't afford to lose any more siblings, after all. Not because of him.
honesty hour -- currently accepting !!
