fight the power !

Aye, lads and ladies. Gracie Cooper here. Just a seventh year Puff trying t'do what's right. Normal things, y'know, such as... ending Goblin Hunger Crises and the like. If you've any questions about joining, feel free to give me a shout or mail me an owl if you're a wee bit skittish 'round upper houses in positions of authority. Oh, and don't feed the owl. He's already tubby enough as it is. 

[itsmethuy]

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[honeybadgercooper]

allitstaintedglory:

Hello again, friend of a friend I knew you when Our common goal was waiting for The world to end

[ensnaredrobyn]

❝Oh— Merlin, I’ve got nothing.❞ She blurts, ashamed by the sudden admission. Her ears and cheeks burn hotly, which she poorly covers with a nervous bout of laughter . It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about it. Robyn had flitted through nearly a thousand futures in the last three years, managing to settle on one for a few weeks in order to get through the brutal interrogations that came with fifth year OWLs. But her resolve had dissolved over the summer, and she was in nearly the same place she’d started at. And daydreaming, imagining herself happy and thriving in any number of glamorous careers during classes and dull homework sessions had not much helped in narrowing down her options either. She wanted too much, and didn’t posses nearly enough control to put aside one thing for another. Besides, what if she made the wrong choice? The whole thing was absolutely and unnecessarily terrifying. ❝But law-making— that’s brilliant. There’s so much you can do, so many people you’ll help. What is it you wanted to tackle first?❞ 

[honeybadgercooper]

❝That's all right,❞ Grace soothes. She shrugs her shoulders lightly. It was common for most people to not know what they wanted to do; she and a few other students were the lucky ones. Being passionate about one cause gave you a path to follow, goals to complete. Having choices is favorable, but you could find yourself stuck forever between two favorable options. Most regrets are stalled when your hobby influences your future. ❝if you're still volleying ideas around, Professor Sprout is always here to help. She knows a surprising amount about the Ministry of Magic. And, 'course, I'm here too.❞

The topic that comes first to her is obviously werewolves. She's adamant about removing that dumb law that allows professionals to refuse to treat them for fear of 'being injured and infected'. That bullshit had to end; she'd probably make an amendment and call it 'The Clyde Amendment' or something, because maybe naming it after her brother would bring retribution to his death. She hopes it does, because she doesn't know what else she could do to make the anger and the ache go away. ❝Uhm, perhaps goblins work laws. I've always found them quite preposterous, especially at big banks like Gringotts or that one in Germany. Zaubererbank, I think. Then maybe set up laws for protected forests, for unicorns and centaurs and other creatures. But that'd involve a whole lot of muggle avoidance charms, and the expenses...❞ she waves her hand around. She likes to avoid placing werewolves in conversation; she doesn't know why, but it rubs her the wrong way to talk about them to other people. Perhaps because she's afraid of her friend's real reactions to people like her brother. Or perhaps something different entirely. Grace realizes she might be boring Robyn (though she doubts the younger girl would tell her to shut up; she's too nice to do so). ❝and so on. Too many things, really.❞

[madisonhshapiro]

[pallasblishwick]

Slytherins, for all their intents are purposes, are astute. Narrowing in on the smallest detail to to extract knowledge of a person’s character or motivations for their own needs. And he catches the tick, her absentminded rubbing of a scar. Complicated, indeed. He’d like to pry, to wedge himself in the crack she’s mistakenly revealed then force her to expose what’s beneath, —if only to prove a point. Strike the right nerve and most people would snap, Gryffindors being the easiest to push, of course. But he manages to catch the expression behind her smile, and it gives him pause.

                           P i t y? 

❝Justice…❞ His eyes darken, and he churns with growing fury while reading the fliers properly, ‘house this’, ‘clothe that’, ‘feed them’. All her charity cases. —Yet here she dares to look at him like that? As though he could never understand, or is missing out on something. And they said only Slytherins could feel superior. Pride gnaws at his insides, and he bitterly looks away from her. She is no longer a game, and although his eyes linger on her collarbone he can’t control his furious energy into pulling her out. He lashes out in his own way, with his words soft, and his mouth twisted into a sneer. ❝I seem to recall another group who was interested in preserving their beliefs and ideals. But I’m sure your own form of justice is infallible, Miss Cooper. ❞  It was likely the wrong thing to bring up, people were so touchy about the last few years. With good reason. But the thought of her unnecessary sympathy fills him with a need to separate himself, to build a wall even if it means making himself the villain.

His voice hardens, and he gives her a dark look, determined that she should take her damnable compassion and put it somewhere else. ❝—You shouldn’t.❞ There’s a pause where he starts at the unintended threat behind the words, and feeling shockingly…. ashamed, Pallas pushes away from the wall with a wince. He really shouldn’t blanch at the smallest of harshities. They are meant to hate each other, it’s only natural given the fairly recent political history and inter-House relations. Perhaps a bucket of water had been tossed on the old hatreds, but that didn’t mean pieces wouldn’t continue to smolder in the aftermath. In fact, their interaction had been fairly civil until now, given everything. But even still, he feels the need to explain himself. ❝… Everyone is capable of dreadful things. Better to be prepared, then shocked. Your… optimism, is impractical.❞

[honeybadgercooper]

Quiet fury isn't easy to deal with. It doesn't sit well, because the offended mind can't form a connection between physical and emotional anger. Confusion heightens the fear; it makes silent rage all the more deadly. His voice, soft yet deadly, pours itself like ice water down her back. She feels her arms growing goosebumps. The mention of the recent war is a nice way to turn the knife. Pallas Blishwick knows how to hurt. Gracie wonders if it's a natural born gift, or something learned. She's not sure if she wants to find out; people stewed in hatred are hard to convince of anything. She doesn't know if she's strong enough to push against people like that until they break. If they are capable of breaking. The flash of horrid fear blinds her for a split second. She sees the girls and boys she looked up to's faces in the paper, headlines reading 'Murdered' or 'Family Slaughtered' or 'The Dark Lord Strikes Again'. 

❝There are no 'forms' of justice, Pallas,❞ she whispers, looking up at him with wide, honest eyes. She turns quickly to the board to hide any other reactions to the people he referenced, though her fingers continue to rub the mark on her chest. ❝there's right and wrong. I guess what you interpret as right and wrong can be interpreted differently, but...there's only one answer to a situation in the end.❞ Her mouth lifts to smile slightly. It's the only way she knows to cope; her mother taught her to grin whenever she felt sad or alone. Bodies could trick the mind into anything, her mother said. And on the surface, a smile does help. For now, at least. 

Maybe she shouldn't have said 'within reason'. But he did ask honestly. She would have liked to convince herself that yes, everyone would follow the right path eventually, but it wasn't realistic. She was trying to teach herself how to be more practical. Less idealistic. People who wouldn't change by themselves could be changed by others, though. Which was why she hadn't outright said 'no'. She believed most people were a 'yes', and others a 'yes, within reason'. ❝Exactly, Pallas. They're capable.❞ Gracie replies, putting unnecessary fixes to the papers. ❝And I know it is, but I'd rather believe in my causes than nothing at all. Future me will understand if I can't fix everything I set out to do.❞

[riddlemedermot]

❝ Eleven… Ah. ❞ He pauses, brow crinkling at the information. ❝ That would certainly explain the library being closed - feeding Niamh must’ve taken longer then I thought it did. ❞ Dermot’s free hand clasps his chin, his mumbling perhaps a little more audible then he’d expected it to be in the practically silent corridor.  ❝ What was I doing? An excellent question there - and one that I can safely answer with, not you, that’s for sure.. ❞ A slight wince at his own distasteful comment (and a silent prayer to Merlin’s shit-stained knickers that Cooper hadn’t heard him) - despite evidence to the contrary, there was some level of self-awareness (and self-preservation) dwelling in the Irish Ravenclaw’s head, coexisting with the gray matter that was supposed to do his thinking. Supposed to. Somehow his brain didn’t seem to want to cooperate with him - maybe that was just the start of the term messing with him - but what he could definitely tell was that he was probably going to regret whatever it was he’d just said thoughtlessly. ❝ I was out on a moonlit walk with my best girl, that’s what I was doing. ❞ 

[honeybadgercooper]

Grace mouths the name Niamh, confused as to what he's referring to. She assumes it's probably a cat or an owl. Odd name, though. The Northern Irish always had a way with nomenclature. ❝ Mhmm, ❞ she annunciates, folding her arms under her chest and giving him a look. She had definitely heard him. Dermot's jab didn't sting as much as he might have intended to; her exhaustion had exhumed all feeling from her body. ❝ all right-y. ❞ She contemplates docking a point or two off, but sticks to her beginning word. He's about as tired as she is, not to mention the power trip she'd feel she was on if she docked points for people hurting her feelings.  ❝ Your...best girl, yeah. D'you mind telling me who that is? ❞ she asks, rubbing at one of her eyes tiredly. She's not mocking him as much as she is asking. 

[ensnaredrobyn]

Pleased with Gracie’s trill of laughter, Robyn smiles sweetly and tucks her feet beneath her to get comfortable. An easy feat in the trademark comfy House chairs that her small frame seems to fold into. Besides being older than her, Gracie had always presented as an overall intelligent, but most importantly, kind and giving person. And although they were friends, Robyn could not help feeling a blind sort of awe to the impressive humility she displayed, even now that Gracie was Head Girl. For a moment, her eyes shine with a bright admiration, then she ducks her head and absently plucks at a string on the hem of her sweater. ❝You’ll do great. Best Head Girl ever—… So, it’s your last year. You know what you’re going to do? When you’re… done here?❞ 

[honeybadgercooper]

❝ Thanks, Rob. ❞ Grace responds with quiet affection, growing a bit timid under the younger girl's awe filled gaze. It would be nice to be the best, though perhaps not quantitatively in achievements or honors. She could save the conquering for the protests; as Head Girl, she had decided it was her duty to be kind to everyone in the school, no matter their prejudice or popularity. Kindness, especially to those who didn't stand for justice, would be difficult, but Dumbledore had entrusted her with this position, and she would be damned if she didn't fulfill her promise to him. Albus Dumbledore was a true example of an altruist; Gracie would be honored to follow in his footsteps. ❝ I have a bit of a clue. I'd like to go into some sort of law making -- put down my picket signs and take up a quill, now that I've got their attention. But how about you? I know it's still far away, but...any ideas? ❞  

[pallasblishwick]

There is a flicker as he blinks, his entire person processing and rejecting the informality. Over his dead body would he refer to an acquaintance as anything other than their last name. They are not friends. They are barely even civil. But he says nothing, only to side-eye her whole damnable nature with a  sharp glance of revulsion. Pallas’ arms cross over his chest, ignoring the politeness and instead watching the Hufflepuff organize the bulletin board, just another display of those oh-so obliging, selfless, and somewhat pathetic House traits. It’s enough altruism to produce an eye roll.  ❝And you’re just supposed to have faith that your little ‘community’ will return the favor? Because that’s your reward, isn’t it? Peace and harmony?❞ A muscle jumps in his cheek, the set of his jaw tightening into a hard line as he turns to face her fuller. Not sure what exactly is so infuriating about the whole thing, his frustration seems to spiral. Illogical annoyance breeding further annoyance. But he’s not a loose canon, and although he is annoyed, he isn’t angry. Merely disdainful. He looks away, his stare roving over the various causes and charities, pinned over the bulletin board in varying boldness of colors that this, at least somewhat, intelligent witch was wasting her time with. ❝You present yourself as the door mat, people will take advantage, Cooper. Don’t tell me you’re naive enough to just trust anyone. You’d trust me to do the ‘right thing’?❞

[honeybadgercooper]

Grace notes the negative reaction Pallas has towards her suggestion; like most of the other Slytherin students she's asked to call her Gracie, he rebukes the idea with disdain and thinly veiled disgust. The glares and the eye rolls bother her enough to make her shoulders tense up around her ears, the back of her neck tingling uneasily. This is only a fraction of what Clyde felt, she berates herself vehemently. And he got on with his life, even with the stigma. She tells herself these things to motivate her, to fuel the passion she feels for the people who live full lives, struggling with burdens far heavier than hers. It works especially well when she thinks of her brother. Later, she can go up to her dormitory and cry about his mockery, when she doesn't have a million duties to fulfill. 

There's a sad, special smile she reserves for those who can't comprehend why she does what she does. Not many know the true reason, yes, but they can wrap their heads around the concept of selflessness. Pallas, Grace sees, cannot. ❝ Well, it's more complicated than that, ❞ she responds, smiling that sad smile and shaking her head. She turns to the board and continues to post notices, this time for Prefects. ❝ and people do charity work for reasons other than a reward, or peace and harmony. Some people want justice for a cause or a group of people they believe in. ❞ She reaches up on her tip-toes to post a large notice on the top of the board. When her hands are empty, she stands back and regards her handiwork. Her thumb runs over and over a thin, barely visible white scar on her collarbone.  

 ❝ It's nice to see you care about me, Pallas, ❞ she jokes vaguely, looking him over with an amused glance. Door mat -- ah, just another moniker seemingly reserved for Hufflepuffs. ❝ but I promise, I'm not being taken advantage of. And yes. Yes, I would trust you. Within reason. ❞ Gracie leaves it as that, knowing any further explanation would devolve the conversation into an argument.

[aurelia-s]

Hardly practiced in acts of deviancy, Aurelia freezes, letting out a barely audible huff of disappointment. Caught. In the very least she had to admit the school’s level of security was being well maintained. Taking a moment to clear her mind of what was sure to be senseless blathering on she turns, brushing her sleeve clear of the dust she’d managed to accumulate in her late night adventure. ❝… So did you start practicing sneaking up on people when you got the badge in the mail over the summer, or is there some secret training program for future heads the rest of us have been kept in the dark about?” 

[honeybadgercooper]

❝ Nah. I've always had the power to scare people when they're doing things they probably shouldn't be doing. Probably the only reason the Professor chose me for the job, ❞ Gracie jokes, lifting her mouth into a half smile. ❝ Then again, I could be lying and there very well could be a program that I'm sworn to secrecy about. ❞

Gracie's all up for making friends, but when it's almost midnight and she's in her bunny loafers (which she has conveniently concealed with a Charm) wanting to go to bed after hours of work, she just wants the job to be done. ❝ Look, love; I'm not going to send you to Filch's unless you hexed someone's nose off. I'm asking so I can make this place safe. ❞ 

[riddlemedermot]

One step back, two. Shoulders slouched, he faces the blonde Hufflepuff with an irritated look.  ❝ Are we getting a tad bit pedantic there, ma’am Head Girl? 11.30, 11.32 — is there really that much of a discrepancy in terms of deviancy ‘tween the two? S’not like I was out late doing questionable things, no, not I, never. ❞  He puts a hand into his trousers pocket, Niamh’s warty skin cool against his fingertips. 

[honeybadgercooper]

❝ Well, for one, Dermot, ❞ Gracie begins calmly, responding to his irritated look with motherly dispassion. ❝ curfew's at eleven. So there's a little discrepancy when it comes to thirty minutes. Just tell me what you were doing and I'll let you get back to your dormitory. ...Scout's honor. ❞ She's heard her Muggleborn friends say it, and it sounds cool, so she tries it out. 

[pallasblishwick]

❝Ugh. I think I’d like to fast-forward through the lecture on morality, Cooper.❞ Pallas was not a good person, by any stretch of the imagination, but he had always seemed to find Grace Cooper’s multiple self righteous, social justice, do-gooder campaigns especially exasperating. He shifts aside, absently sticking the pilfered flier to the board over a few lost and found notices from last year, and right next to the new Hogsmeade schedule. ❝There. A contribution.❞ His chin tilts proudly, the mocking grin shifting into honest amusement for a few milliseconds before sliding back once again. He leans heavily against the wall in his new spot, continuing to watch her with a smug, albeit disapproving gaze. Selflessness, disturbing and yet fascinating in the same breath, the thought of spending more of your thoughts on others than yourself churning his gut unpleasantly. But Dumbledore had certainly made his point by picking such an odd one to ‘lead the masses’, this year particularly. Eyes narrowing, Pallas struggles to not curl his lips as his stare turns more skeptical. ❝… —What’s the point of all the thankless effort, anyways?❞

[honeybadgercooper]

❝ It's Gracie, Pallas. And I wasn't going to lecture you. Only pointing out the difference between action and inaction. ❞ An impatient person (see: the Gryffindor house) would've snatched the flier out of his grip and yelled at him to move. Hufflepuffs, in Grace's mind, could understand people sometimes better than they could themselves. If left to stew, Slytherins could move to help. Even if they did it for amusement. Gracie smiles; she needs to remove the old posters before she can post new ones, but Pallas has moved out of his way on his own accord. Perfect pacifistic strategy. The hippies would be proud. ❝ Thank you, ❞ she says honestly, unpinning the lost and found notices and chuckling a bit to herself at the things people had lost. A couple toads, the odd jumper, a pocket-watch from gran, a journal. Grace blanches to think of how embarrassed and horrified she'd be if her own diary made its way into the hands of someone else. She's about to pin a 'Centaur Rehabilitation' poster up when Pallas asks her a question. In mid-pin, she frowns and contemplates the words on the purple piece of paper. ❝ I wouldn't say it's thankless, ❞ Grace argues, turning her head to Pallas. ❝ but even so, you're not supposed to look for gratitude. People help others because it's a lesson in humility. There's no community without it. Just a bunch of people who hate each other because of their differences, forced to co-habitate. ❞

[honeybadgercooper]

❝ Okay, so, ❞ Gracie offers, approaching the person in front of her slowly. She's smiling harmlessly, her hands in the pockets of her uniform trousers. ❝ the clock reads 11:32. Which means everyone's supposed to be in bed. But -- if you can tell me why you're here, I'll let you off with a warning. It's too early in the year for docking points. ❞

[pallasblishwick]

Glancing behind him, he pauses before turning back towards the fellow seventh year with a raised brow and a steely smirk. But he doesn’t move, instead reaching for one of her fliers. His movement is dramatic— mocking, as his fingers pluck the top page from the stack. The corner of his mouth twitches as he reads the title, laughing at her. ❝Really? We’ve just gotten back, Cooper. Don’t you have better things to do than worry about mermaids?❞ 

[honeybadgercooper]

Gracie's smile turns closed lipped, and she allows Pallas to swipe one of the fliers in her hands. This has happened so many times with so many different people over the years that it doesn't bother her anymore. ❝Well,❞ she says teasingly, pondering over the other fliers in her hands. ❝you just picked the first thing off the top. There are goblins to provide homes for, house elves to feed, centaurs to rehabilitate...if mermaids aren't your thing, maybe those are better?❞ 

❝Though,❞ she adds. ❝All of these are better than doing nothing, Pallas.❞

[ensnaredrobyn]

❝Oh Merlin—❞ A sigh of relief, and Robyn skip-runs to Grace’s side, anxiously looking over her head and through the aforementioned foliage. Sure enough— Plucking the books from the spot, Robyn smiles softly, hesitating a few tense moments before moving to her own chair in order to join the older girl. ❝Thanks, Grace. I would’ve been looking for ages…. Or are you going by Head Girl, now?❞ Her expression feigns seriousness, but the tilt of her mouth is a dead giveaway to the rare teasing.

[honeybadgercooper]

Grace watches Robyn with a small, amused smile. She plays with the corner of her book as the younger Puff grabs the books from the shelf and comes to sit next to her. Her elbow rests on the arm of the chair, her head in her hand. ❝You're welcome, love,❞ she returns, tapping her chin with her thumb. Straightening her back and pulling her book from her chest, Grace laughs embarrassedly, then looks down at her badge. ❝Gracie's just fine, Robyn. The title's not what matters; I'd be happy to do all this and more, even if I wasn't Head Girl.❞ And she would. She wasn't a Ravenclaw, but she enjoyed filling her academic and extra curricular plate until it overflowed. Staying busy made her feel helpful. Sated. 

[daphneveens]

[pallasblishwick]

Avoiding the chaos of the after dinner rush, Pallas stood off on the fringes of the Great Hall, calmly studying the passing gaggle of fifth years whose giggling thrummed in his ears. He had not thought he was so absorbed, but the presence that appears at his side, whether they’d been there all along or for only a few moments, surprised him. ❝Can I help you?❞ he drawls, but the rudeness seems to lack its usual fire.

[honeybadgercooper]

A few of the new prefects have come up to her after dinner, begging her to be able to escort the new-ish first years to their dormitories. Wearily, Grace nods and asks some of the quieter sixth year prefects to switch their duties around, shaking her head with some amusement at the ferocity with which the fifth year prefects conduct themselves with. It reminds her of her, back then. She walks over to the communal message board outside the Great Hall to post notices. Pallas Blishwick is conveniently in her way. She smiles in a vaguely kind manner, and nods to the board. ❝I need the board,❞ she says, raising her eyebrows. In her hand are a bunch of fliers, including her latest cause: cleaning up polluted mermaid lakes in the Scottish Highlands.

[ensnaredrobyn]

Her hands were restless, wringing and skating over the thick and comfortable fabric of her vest, the quirk only a small indication to her growing frustration. ❝It’s only the beginning of the year and my books are already making a run for it, apparently. Anyone seen any year six texts laying around?❞

[honeybadgercooper]

❝Which ones're you looking for?❞ Grace asks, peeking up from a seventh year Charms book. She's relaxing in one of the large, puffy, mustard colored chairs, doing some after hours studying before she goes to bed. Dropping the book on her chest, she moves an unruly plant out of the way and motions to the table behind her with her head. ❝I think I saw some Runes and Transfiguration over there.❞

[queencorazon]

I’M NOT GONNA BREAK FOR YOU | Brie Larson | Jenny Lewis’ Just One of the Guys music video | x