diviner of minor coincidences @fernleypark - Tumblr Blog

cleoraja‌:

Cleo wasn’t even remotely surprised that the girl did have a ziplock. She just sighed and figured, this was a fucking Hogwarts, everyone was a fucking weirdo. “What’s really funny is you probably don’t even have to sneak anything.” Cleo settled in, picking up some toast to cover in jam. “Most my professors have been cool with eating in class as long as you’re not a dick about it. Potions aside anyways because you know some idiot would drop his motherfucking croissant in the cauldron and then where would we be?”

“Hopefully in a room with a giant croissant? Like, at least three leprechauns long would be nice,” Fernley said, smiling. There’s spells for that… she thought. And if she could reduce and enlarge food—oh, mate—she could bring a whole party to class. It was a shame she wasn’t around anyone who’d be more receptive to food related hypotheticals. The girl slept on food dispensing sleeves, for crying out loud. “But yeah, y’got a point there. ‘Suppose I thought some discretion was warranted. See no evil and all that. Though sneaking food’s probably the least offensive thing I’ve seen happen on the sly.” Fernley shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe I was just waitin’ for permission.”

#c #cleo #cleo1

kiran-thakkar‌:

“No, I’m completely new to the concept.” Kiran said, watching the strange lady. She looked familiar, but a lot of people did. A school had only so many students. He raised an eyebrow. Then an other, then proceeded to watch her hands as she reached for a blueberry scone. He had just had two glasses of wine, but he was far from drunk enough to know how to deal with this. But he was also tired enough to move to the left when the command was uttered. Then wondered if by “someone saw me” she didn’t mean him. Fuck if he knew. “Why’a hiding food?”

“Give it a go then, lad. Changed me life,” Fernley offered over. She packed the last of her rations behind the shield of his wide shoulders, before giving him a thumbs up. Although, the stranger seemed less of a morning person to meet her at her level. One day she’d tell him her secret—she’d been awake for hours. “Why? You gonna dob us in? After I introduced youse?” Fernley waved her finger from the guy to the plate of bacon. She dropped her bit and shrugged. “Gonna eat it o’course. Sorry. Not gonna make love to it or feed a kelpie I’m keepin’ in a bathtub or anythin’ interestin’ like that. Hate to disappoint ya.”

#c #kiran #kiran1

erik-grimshaw‌:

Erik had learnt to control himself at meal times with a little difficulty. The first time he saw the elaborate spread of food and watched it magically refill he may have over-indulged and may have spent his first morning here puking his breakfast out. It was also how he discovered the House Elves could pop up out of seemingly nowhere at the smallest bit of a mess. He felt stupid, at first, having eaten too much, but that small house-elf had comforted him with its boney fingers and bulging eyes and odd manner of speaking. Other students had done it too, a lot of first years seemed to eat too much. ( Too much, toooo much, the elf repeated with a furious shake of its head. )

Erik’s meal looks paltry in comparison to others. He went for a simple breakfast, porridge packed with dried fruit and nuts and a swirl of honey. Enough to fill him, and thankfully he now had the self-control to know his limits. So, when he sees a Hufflepuff with a parka over her robes, stuffing food into her pockets Erik immediately assumes the worst. He knew the anxiety that came with food, how not knowing when or where his next meal would come from made this feast look like a trick.

“You know you don’t have to sneak the food,” he says, even though he does listen to her and shift a bit to his left. Give her some cover whilst he tries to find out if she’s in the same boat as he was. Sat with his back to the table and looking out at the rest of the hall, he tries not to watch the woman too closely or give one of those too-concerned looks that got him into trouble too often, he tries to keep his tone light in attempt to broach what could be an uncomfortable topic,“There’s always food to spare. Plus, you can always ask one of the house-elves they can give you something. Don’t ask too often, though, might get ‘em in trouble.”

Bloody hell, she thought as the man stepped to the side—the weather above her now turned overcast, Was this lad half giant? Fernley realised she’d seen him about before. He was one of those quidditch blokes running around with broomsticks between their legs. She’d always wondered about men and broomsticks. Wondered if their prostrates were okay. Hm. As Fernley’s furtive inspection of him carried on, she listened to him and there was just something about what he said. Or didn’t say. Like there was another layer underneath his words and it gave her pause. She looked away for a moment. Maybe he was telling her off by not telling her off? She did notice his shiny prefect badge… Play it cool.

“I know that,” she said all casual-like, and threw her scarf over her shoulder,” I’m a ‘Puff. Kitchen’s a stone’s throw away. Maybe this ain’t for me. Maybe… I’m a distributer.” She widened her eyes and wiggled her eyebrows, letting the thought pass through her mind like a fleeting romance. “‘Sides, look at all this food.” Fernley gestured with a spatula in hand at the wonderful spread before them, then heaped a serving of scrambled eggs onto her plate to begin with. “Guess where it goes when everyone’s stuffed themselves. Just seems like a waste not to polish it all up. Now, or at a later time. I’m doin’ the great work, aye.”

#c #erik #erik1

deacon-rivers‌:

“No, I’ve never seen someone pocket bacon before.” He’s mildly appalled, minorly impressed, and mostly confused. “Seriously… what are you doing? You know there’s more where all this came from, right? Since when does Hogwarts starve people enough to warrant, uh… parka smoked meat?”

“’Cause I get peckish…?” Fernley squinted. The slight tone he spoke with (real or imagined) put her on her on the defense. She won’t let herself be judged for hacking the system. “And I’d lose the will to live if I have to take multiple flights of stairs for some crisps. The crisps might not be worth me life but I’d still be hungry—so’s you can see, this bacon is a matter of life and death.”

#c #deacon #deacon1

cleoraja‌:

Cleo was not in the right mind to really consider what was happening in front of her. Mornings were always a groggy haze, honestly. She was mostly watching the girl put away her breakfast in pockets and rather than the normal train of thought that might’ve hit her later in the day about why she was doing it, Cleo could only think about how gross the food would be later and wasn’t her pockets gonna get dirty? “I doubt I’m much cover,” but she still moved over nonetheless. “Why didn’t you just bring a ziplock?”

Fernley didn’t answer, but trailed her gaze down to her pocket where she opened it up for the Ravenclaw to take a peak. Inside was a ziplock bag lining the interior of the compartment, neatly closed to trap the bacon. Fernley tapped the side of her temple. “Y’had the right idea.” Satisfied with her bounty, she began to heap eggs, toast, waffles, and pancakes onto her own plate. “Pockets are super convenient and it means I can sneak a snack in class,” she said by way of explanation,” Hm... If I could find a spell that’ll enchant me sleeves to store food, would that make me lazy or would I be cemented as a world-class genius?”

#c #cleo #cleo1

zaimelmakki‌:

Zaim looked but didn’t react– what was the point? Instead they shifted slightly to appease Fernley’s request. “I know what bacon is, I just don’t eat it. Scones, however, are only worth stealing if you take me one, too.” Zaim had just put down a bowl of porridge, but didn’t have any pockets besides the ones in their pants, and would hate to get those all crumby before heading to Herbology. They nodded to the scone plate, a little more empathetically so she didn’t get cold feet. “Don’t be stingy, Fernley, we’re hungry all the time here in house Hufflepuff.”

Fernley hummed merrily when Zaim acquiesced and wedged the scone into her other pocket, now taking up a sizeable bulge on her right side. She snorted. Is that a scone in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? Fernley broke into a smile at her accomplice’s request. “I thought you clomped on a higher horse, Zaim, so this better not be entrapment.” With more encouragement, she cased the tables for any prying eyes. “What’re you sayin’? We heistin’ breakfast for a whole house?” Fernley said as she reached out with her other hand, in case Zaim preferred not to have bacon or other meats touch their food, before snatching another scone. “We’d need a team…”

#c #zaim #zaim1 #do some crimes with us #if you love us

Fernley was seated at one of the tables in the Great Hall for breakfast when she sensed an inquiring eye peering over her shoulder. Abruptly, she whipped her head round to level her gaze at them. “What? You’ve never seen a bacon before?” she said, as she put the bacon deep inside the pockets of her parka. Then, with as much discretion as the smell of her heist on her hands, Fernley began to relocate a blueberry scone into her other pocket. “Move to the left a bit, hey? I think someone saw me.”

#nsb:starter #feel free to assume connections!

nsbhq

stats

name: fernley park pronouns: she/her age: twenty-five year: fifth blood status: muggleborn classes: astronomy, care of magical creatures, charms, defense against the dark arts, divination, herbology, ghoul studies, transfiguration, xylomancy clubs: book club positions: n/a

summary

Throughout Fernley’s life, she’d grasped onto the one mote of possibility that her story was going to lead her to a great destiny. She stoked her dreams with books and movies of heroes from humble beginnings, but as she grew older it became more of a silly game to her. Playing the odds by checking strange doors for hidden portals, or willing the remote to fly across the room. Until one day came the start of her great adventure. Fernley dropped everything to study at Hogwarts. Soon, though, her plucky determination deflated in the face of the harsh reality—that she was just one, in a sea of many chosen. Divinations was the only subject she had a natural talent for. Fernley could divine when you’d splinter your ring finger, what assignment you’d spill your ink on, and the date minted on the sickle you’d find after dinner. She was a seer of little happenings. Fernley just wished that her gifts could actually do something that mattered. Not that she’d ever tell anyone of the naive, childish hopes she clung to.

— played by mars

#.bio