ᴳ ᴿ ᴲ ᴰ

our rules, our dreams, we're blind blowin' shit up with homemade dynamite [ rp ]

[sebastianed]

Behind the Scenes - Call Me By Your Name

[freckledxgeorgie-blog]

-- angelina 

A smile flitted across her face as she remembered first year and her frustrations with trying to make that feather float. She’d thought that becoming a witch was all waving a wand wishing for something to happen. Merlin had she been naïve. “Are you sure he’d give us one? He’d probably think we were going to use it for a prank and say no.” Still smiling, she pulled the bottom drawer of her desk open and retrieved one of her old quills. After laying it on the table, she waved her wand and muttered under her breath. Quick as a flash, her quill was transfigured into an actual feather. “That was much easier,” she muttered holding up the sleek feather.

   George reached over and gently took the feather from Angie’s hands, examining it before handing it back to her. He was impressed, it was a simple transfiguration but still was perfectly done and the feather was “That’ll do, better than going through the trouble of trying to convince him to lend us a feather. Though, the idea of sneaking into his office and nicking a few feathers sounded better than transfiguring one. Where’s the adventure in that, Ange?”

[freckledxgeorgie-blog]

how's your mom?

“My mother? Well, she’s doing fine last I saw and spoke to her. Thanks for asking, I guess?”

[weascleys]

Harry Potter Character Aesthetics 2/?: Fred and George Weasley 

“Where’s the fun without a bit of risk?”

[freckledxgeorgie-blog]

-- daphne 

@freckledxgeorgie​ closed starter 

What a day it had been. Now, in all seriousness, Daphne shouldn’t be surprised that she is currently failing history of magic, but considering her newfound dose of confidence after solving the first riddle, she thought maybe that would reflect in her grades as well. This logic, however, was incredibly wrong, so instead of going back to the library and studying her blonde little butt off, she found herself wandering to the kitchens, knowing a little trick that her housemates taught her when they were all young and just experimenting with alcohol.  It depends on the type of mood the house elves were in, but if you could sweet talk them enough, they’d let it slide. This had proven difficult for many Slytherin students, considering a lot of them couldn’t even treat their own house elves at home with respect, but for many others, Daphne included, she found it quit easy. Her beloved house elf, Elsie, always provided and cared for her, sometimes more than her own parents – so to Daphne Greengrass, sweet talking the elves was a simple walk in the park.  Daphne entered the kitchens, hand tracing lightly on the counter tops.  She called out in greeting, finding several house elves preparing dinner for the night. They offered her a curtsey, where she nodded and smiled back at them in return. One elf, she believed her name to be Lacey, handed her a cupcake, telling her they had plenty of left overs. With a grateful smile, Daphne began eating the cupcake, bringing up chit chat that would help bring up the topic of booze. This plan, however, failed, when she heard the door open behind her and the one eared Weasley twin, whichever one that was, walked in. She knew she was a goner, considering her was a professor now – which to her was the world’s largest joke, but whatever..  Trying to cover her tracks, she looked to him, half a cupcake in her hand still.  “  Relax, Professor Weasel, nothing to see here, just a girl who skipped lunch for potions tutoring in the library and was hungry.   ”

   He was doing good-- not drinking around like what was normal, pacing himself at meals and just going to bed whenever his thoughts got the best of him. There were moments where George just did not want to deal with the world, especially not with Fred. He hadn’t done anything, in fact, it had nothing to do with his actions rather than the actions of the war and the wall that crushed him almost to death. The shock of almost losing his brother, of having to see him in a coma, go through therapy and now making jokes about his death was too much for the young prankster, and despite the amount of ‘breathing exercises’, homework assignments he graded, and forceful sleep, this night was one of those nights. 

   Countless times during his reign at Hogwarts did he and his brother sneak down into the kitchens, but it wasn’t until they were older and hosting parties in the common room did they discover that the house elves were just as cheeky as them-- some of them, and they would offer ‘party favours’ whenever they showed up. Most of the time, it was food, but whenever they got the good house elves around, they would send loads of their liquor to help liven the parties, especially after a good quidditch win. Since being back, he was a regular customer in the kitchens and, encouraged by Winky, he would always get a glass of whatever he’d like to drink. The other night they let him take the bottle back to his professor quarters, and he hoped this night was the same. Winky would understand. 

   Tickling the pear and jumping through the portrait, he was greeted by many familiar faces, all ready to bring up a seat and shower him with food. It wasn’t until George caught sight of one of the Greengrass sisters did he stop in his tracks, smile fading from his lips and instead replaced by a smirk. “I didn’t see you if you didn’t see me,” He reassured her, allowing Winky to grab his fingers and pull him along as she blabbed lightly about her day, hiccuping from the butterbeer she probably was drinking. “Didn’t know you took potions tutoring?” He asked her once Winky left him beside Daphne at the counter. He rested his elbows on the granite as the little house elf wobbled away into the liquor cupboard. He only wished Daphne would leave already so he wasn’t caught having a drink, and taking the bottle. Yet, what he dreaded came true and Winky wobbled out with a bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses. She placed them on the counter then went off to do Merlin knows what, her bottle of butterbeer in her hand. 

   “Well, seeing as you can tell I’m not here for cupcakes and chats,” He pointed to her frosted dessert held in her hands then motioned to his liquor, “If I offer you a drink, will you keep your mouth shut?”

[freckledxgeorgie-blog]

-- angelina

As she rested her forearms on the desk, Angelina considered the ‘orb’ bit. “Well, it would make sense for it to be a portkey since it’s supposed to transport us somewhere. Unless there’s some other form of magical transportation I don’t know about.” Glancing over the parchment once more, she considered the next portion. “Obviously we’re going to next a feather and we’re going to have to levitate it, but ‘the lightest of feathers?’ Do you think it might be a specific type of feather?” Angelina just hopped that they’d need a feather and she could use the one off her quill.  

George continued to tap his fingers against his lips, thinking over about the feather and if there was anything he learned in Care of Magical Creatures that could reference a bird with light feathers. Nothing seemed to be coming up, and the longer he thought about it the more he concluded that the riddle was just using fluff words. “I think a random feather will do just fine, a regular feather-- they're all light. Kind of reminds me of first year when we learned wingardium leviosa and we had those feathers.” His fingers stopped tapping and a smile spread across his lips, “We could ask Flitwick for a feather. I’m sure he’s got loads lying around.”

[freckledxgeorgie-blog]

-- harry

“Well, if you’re half as good at using the yelly-phone as Ron, I suggest you never try to use one.” Harry said, shaking his head slightly. “Well, they have mail trucks, and just kind of slide the letters through a slot in the door.” Harry never thought he’d be explaining how mail delivery of all things worked in the muggle world. “So you’d just find the letter by the door if you aren’t home. And I guess Sunday is just a sort of… rest day. A lot of places shut down on Sundays.”

  He snorted, imagining Ron using the yelly-phone, quite amused he wasn’t as good as Harry made him out to be with the muggle device. “I bet I’d be fine once someone showed me how to do it. Or rather, I could probably figure it out myself. They can’t be that hard to use. I just pick it up and talk into it.” George said proudly, biting into his toast once more. “I still think that is all useless. The muggles could really benefit from owl delivery. They’re just far more reliable.”

[freckledxgeorgie-blog]

Nonsexual acts of Intimacy - Select from the following for my muse to respond to...

♔ : Finding your muse wearing their clothes

♕: Holding hands

♖: Having their hair washed by your muse

♗: Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse's lap.

♘: Cuddling in a blanket fort

♙: Sharing a bed

♚: Head scratches

♛: Sharing a dessert

♜: Shoulder rubs

♝: Reading a book together

♞: Caring for each other while ill (specify which party is which)

♟: Patching up a wound

♤: Taking a bath together

♧: Your muse playing with their hair

♡: Accidentally falling asleep together

♢: Forehead or cheek kisses

♠: Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/ etc.

♣: Back scratches

♥: Your muse crying about something

♦: Slow dancing

[julie-alex]

[freckledxgeorgie-blog]

-- boy wonder

Harry hadn’t even picked up anything out of place at first, George sitting at the Gryffindor table with the rest of the house just seemed so right, normal, and that small sense of normalcy was what Harry had been searching for more than anything since they all came back to the castle for another year. Even though they have all long since left Hogwarts he was almost expecting Fred to join in with Lee or Angelina.

“Telephone.” Harry corrected, but shook his head quickly realizing there was no point and just sat still for a moment as he debated if he should explain muggle mail or if Harry would just end up confusing him more. “A person delivers the letters.” He said eventually, looking back across the table at him. “Delivering the mail is a profession in the muggle world, get’s delivered every morning. Well, other than Sundays.” He tacked on at the end, unable to stop the small chuckle at the memory of his Aunt and Uncle’s house on Privet Drive absolutely drowning in letters. He’d been too preoccupied with wanting to read the letter Harry hadn’t fully picked up on just how strange the ordeal was.

   “Telephone, yelly-phone, it is all the same jumbo to me,” He said with a mouthful of toast, washing everything down with a gulp of coffee. He tried to imagine what it could be like to just deliver mail as a profession rather than just using owls. “Even in the rain and snow? Won’t they just get tired of walking everywhere handing people mail? And why not Sundays? What if they can’t find the person and they’re not home?” The muggle world was so confusing in so many ways. George had to stop himself from asking more questions and instead shoved his mouth with more toast. 

[mancandykings]

Armie Hammer photographed at Sundance Film Festival for The Hollywood Reporter (2018)

[freckledxgeorgie-blog]

-- angelina

Tapping her lip in thought, Angelina considered it. The tallest tower was the Astronomy Tower considering its purpose. “Well, we probably have to go to the Astronomy Tower since it’s the highest one at Hogwarts, but not sure when exactly. Sometime after midnight, but it’s not really specific, is it?” She nodded when he suggested Ravenclaw Tower. There was always a chance that they were both wrong and they’d be transported to some secret room the castle hosted. His comment distracted her from her train of thought. Smart one? “Says the man who creates new inventions every day.” There was no way her intelligence matched George’s—not today, and not twenty years from now. She flattered that he thought so, but it was far from the truth.

   He mimicked her actions, tapping his lip mindlessly and considered her suggestion, “The Astronomy Tower sounds about right, I think. I don’t think Ravenclaw is the tallest tower at Hogwarts.” He crossed his leg over his knee as his fingers rested on his lap, twiddling in thought. “Sometime after midnight on the Astronomy Tower. The orb will glow. I guess that weird circular stuff in the middle of the tower is the orb? Maybe a portkey?” He didn’t know where this ‘restricted’ place was at Hogwarts, so it made sense that this orb would transfer them like a portkey to wherever they needed to be. 

[freckledxgeorgie-blog]

-- angelina 

Pushing herself onto her desk, Angelina couldn’t help the eye roll. “I missed your lovely face so much I was about to march up to the castle and tell you just how much. You saved me the trip.” Dropping off her desk, she went to pull one of the drawers of her desk open. That parchment was in here somewhere. After the excitement of jumping into the Black Lake had drained from her body, she had thought that the words of the riddle would leak from her memory like water down a drain, but the words kept ringing in her mind just like with the first riddle. “Here it is,” she muttered as she pulled out a piece of paper she’d written the riddle down on. She pushed it toward George. “So the restricted room could be the restricted section in the library right?”  

   He took the parchment from Angelina’s grip and bit down on his lip as his eyes scanned over her writing. He was glad she decided to write down the riddle, seeing as most of it slipped through his mind after their trip to the lake. Finger tracing under words, George nodded at the restriction part, agreeing with Angie. "I think so too, but also what does it mean by 'the tallest height, when midnight is past due?' Maybe the restricted area is the Ravenclaw Tower, for those of us who are not allowed in?" He looked over at her, his chair falling back on all fours as he pulled it closer to her desk. “Or maybe I’m wrong, don’t listen to me, you’re the smart one.”

[freckledxgeorgie-blog]

-- marcus

   Never thought I’d be back here this often.

   When Marcus Flint had at last left Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a year later than he’d originally hoped, he had been quite definitely done with the place. His future was set; he had a contract with Montrose Magpies (the acknowledged stars of the Quidditch league) and the rest of his life was going to be focused on the game. Delayed, perhaps, but everything had turned out as it should, and the Flint heir was doing just fine.

   Exactly none of that went according to plan. Very little did in the years that followed. In the aftermath of leaving Montrose and taking up his current position at the Ministry of Magic, he’d been involved in a cause. That cause was supposed to reshape the wizarding world. It hadn’t. In hindsight, most people would have called that a mistake, but who knew what it really was? The only option he really had was to move forward, and he was lucky to have that option at all.

   What all of this amounted to was the fact that Marcus was back at Hogwarts for the rotating inspections required on all of the school’s standard training broomsticks and those required for Quidditch use, and he’d found an empty bench in the main courtyard on the grounds. That gave him time for two things before he headed down to the broom lockers by the pitch, one that he did regularly and one that he didn’t: reviewing the previous inspection reports (most of them not fully completed by his predecessor, that needed improving) and smoking a cigarette. The reviewing of reports was second-nature to him by now, though still required a few adjustments to help him through it if visual stress started to kick in and make his life difficult. The smoking, however, wasn’t exactly a habit unless he needed something to take the edge off, and being here meant that he did. Just as he set the reports down with the intention of lighting up, however, he became sharply aware that he wasn’t alone, the sound of steps nearby alerting him to another person’s presence. “Looking for company, or just wondering what the hell I’m doing here? Or neither?” At this point, I’m wondering the same thing.

   It was one of those days where George had the day to himself at the castle and Fred took control at the shop. His classes were until late in the afternoon, so he spent the majority of the morning filing paperwork and assessing homework assignments, work he was behind on. He never realised the number of papers that came with becoming a professor and how he spent most of his time cooped up in his office. Afterwhile, his back ached and he decided to walk around the grounds, maybe nip into the kitchens if he felt hungry for a snack. 

   As he stepped down the grand staircases in the Entrance Hall, George turned towards the corridor that led to the courtyard rather than descending towards the dungeons, realising it was too nice of a fall day. He had been stuck in his office all morning he didn’t have a chance to step outside, and the young prankster felt suffocated by his walls. Walking through, the sun beaming on his face, George saw a figure sitting on a bench and could have sworn saw them ready to light up a cigarette, and also not in uniform, which added to his curiosity. Furrowed brows, wondering why a student was smoking, he walked towards the figure before his eyes adjusted to the shade and he recognized Flint. He remembered McGonagall mumbling something about broom inspections done by Flint, but George never thought he’d have to deal with him so soon, and never thought he would ever have a job, never mind a Ministry Job. 

   “You do know you’re about to smoke in the school’s courtyard?” He questioned, hands shoving themselves into his pockets as he looked down at Flint. Not that he was strict about smoking, having picked up the habit during social events, but he knew the act wasn’t tolerated near the areas where students could lounge about. “Being a professor, I’ve got to ask you to put it away, not that I really care, but if one of the other snobby professors sees,” He turned around, looking for others, “They probably will be more upset.”

[msjessicaday]

[freckledxgeorgie-blog]

-- boy wonder

Harry had looked upwards as swarms of owls came in, mostly delivering the morning mail or newpapers to the people who surrounded him. Now that Harry was no longer on the run or cooping himself up at Sirius’s place to hide, and he was getting used to being at Hogwarts again, it was really starting to hit him how much he missed Hedwig. The snowy owl had been his closest companion whenever he wasn’t at the school, the one living being he knew he could really talk to about anything and everything.

These borrowed owls that would delivered his copy of The Daily Prophet, or whatever other mail he got just wasn’t the same as having a pet. A friend. Harry grabbed his paper from the random owl of the day, reaching into his robe pockets to pay the bird and almost smiled at the memory of that day with Hagrid where he had seen this for the first time. Hedwig had been Harry’s first ever friend, before he had even Ron or Hermione, and he didn’t know if he would ever be ready for a new owl. 

“It’s always amazed me,” Harry mumbled, not sure if it was more to himself or the small collection of people near him, “how intelligent owls are. Extremely bright birds.”

   It had been one of those mornings where Fred was opening shop and George got to stick around the castle, enjoying the free breakfast and the perfectly brewed coffee by the house elves. Normally, he would sit at the professor’s table, but with the strange occurrences happening around and McGonagall’s disappearance, he would just nip in and grab food then slip back out. This day, however, had he strolled in, the sea of owls seemed to be flooding into the Great Hall, and George had realised he slept in a little late. 

    Walking over, he saw a prophet owl land by Harry at the Gryffindor table. Being head coach now, he always reminisced about his days as a student, especially because it felt so long ago when he and Fred left. He missed the Gryffindor table, being surrounded by his friends with similar qualities, the family-like company. With large strides, he walked over and sat across from boy wonder, a giant smile on his lips as he tried to make his presence casual. A professor sitting at the student's table. “Very intelligent,” He replied, unsure what brought on the topic of conversation but playing along anyway, reaching for coffee and some toast. “I don’t know how to muggles do it. These birds are so reliable and fast, how do they send letters? And talk to people? Those yelly-phones are intimidating, what if you don’t want to talk to anyone and rather just write a letter? What if they’re sleeping and you wake them up? So many questions.”

[buckybarsn]

“If he knew, if he only knew that I was giving him every chance to put two and two together and come up with a number bigger than infinity.”