#*oneshot

[absentmoon]

dumb fucking suite pics

[transprince]

There was a rb game that asked what was the most blorbo show for a person an i stand by my answer but also gonna be real honest the most blorbo video game for me is gonna be oneshot forever

[fischerfrey]

The Malinda Lineage; Oneshot

Jacob Malinda at different times of his life. This one’s just a sad little character study.

Words: 500

click here for the challenge by @kathrynalicemc

1981;

All his life, Jacob Malinda had been told to choose courage above fear. There was no room for cowardice in the Malinda family, no room for weakness. Yet despite it all, he was afraid now. Duncan was gone and he could no longer return to school. Olivia would probably never talk to him again and he couldn’t go to anyone for help or R would target his family. His little sister. And the worst of it was that Jacob had brought all this onto himself. It was his fault that Duncan was dead, he knew it, and it hurt. And now he couldn’t even bring R to justice. Jacob stuffed some clothing haphazardly into a duffel bag. He didn’t have his wand anymore and even if he did, he wasn’t yet seventeen and the last thing he needed was his mother bursting into his room, reprimanding him for using magic outside of school. Although that probably didn’t matter anymore now that he was expelled. The cold pit in his stomach only seemed to grow.

 As he crept through the quiet house, he thought about waking up Verna and bidding her farewell. She would’ve deserved that much, at least, after everything Jacob had already put her through. In the end, of course he didn’t do it. He was too ashamed to face her. He was a coward.

 1985;

Time didn’t function normally inside the portrait. Jacob had no idea how long it had been. It might as well have been minutes or months, even years. His head hurt if he tried to think about it too hard.

“You know Duncan, I think I might be losing my mind,” he said to the darkness. He was lying on his back on what he assumed was the floor, but it was impossible to tell.

“You’ve only now put it together?” asked the boy next to him. Or was there a boy? Jacob wasn’t sure.

“Are you real?”

“You ask me that every day.”

“Well, are you?”

“No. Like you said, you are losing your mind.”

“Fun,” said Jacob with a laugh. “I’m glad for the company.”

“Bugger off.”

“Are you sure you’re not real? That’s exactly what he would say.”

“It’s all in your head, mate,” Duncan said firmly. He sat up. Or Jacob imagined him sitting up. One of those.

“Too bad. I’d like to apologize.”

There was no answer.

 1992;

Rakepick’s wand felt foreign in his hand. Foreign, but compliant. He could do it. The woman in front of him stared him down without an ounce of fear in her eyes. Jacob held a wand square at her chest, and she didn’t fear him one bit.

“Go on Jacob, do it,” she urged him, almost amused.

He could. She deserved to die for what she had put him through, put Verna through. Jacob tightened his grip. Courage above fear, he thought. He would do what he had to.

fin.

[fischerfrey]

Happy FFWF!! Any upcoming content or some headcanons about Max?

Thank you!! Right now I'm simultaneously working on my HPHM rewrite, as well as a bunch of small oneshots. As the rewrite needs a lot of rewriting (lol) I'm gonna offer you this notes app snippet of a little 11-year-old Prince Henry:

this is how it begins; one morning, there's an owl sitting on the eleven-year-old prince's bed post, carrying a letter on its beak. henry doesn't recognize the crest on the envelope, and as he reaches out a hand and takes the letter, the bird immediately takes flight, going right out the window that had been firmly closed the night before.

henry enthusiastically opens the envelope, not bothering to fetch the letter opener from his desk. the paper's texture feels old-fashioned, though the date indicates today.

"to his highness, prince henry second bedroom from the right, third floor alderly hall, alderly, england we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry—"

the boy stops reading. this has to be some kind of joke. witches and wizards? that doesn't make any sense. (rarely in henry's life does anything make any sense, but witches and wizards still seems too far-fetched.) he clambers out of his huge bed and puts on his morning robe and slippers. the floors of the huge, old house are cold this time of year.

Here are some Max headcanons as a bonus:

Max has always been jealous of their older sister Nico, who seems to so easily fulfill every expectation their parents have for the both of them.

They become an absolute rebel after being sorted into Gryffindor instead of the family house, Slytherin. Max is fully in on the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivarly until she starts to hang out with Rocío Gallardo (@endlessly-cursed ) who's in Slytherin.

She doesn't play Quidditch but supports her house.

Had a crush on Cedric Diggory when she was a second-year. Briefly supported only Hufflepuff in Quidditch because of it.

Max is the same age as Ginny Weasley, which means they share a dorm and eventually become friends, especially during the events of The Deathly Hallows.

Max's girlfriend Jenny Fairfax ( @potionboy3 ) is a muggleborn so this'll spell trouble for them when the Second Wizarding War starts...

[fischerfrey]

Happy FFWF!! May we see some content of the Quinn twins and Genevieve please? 🥺 I'm not picky 👀

Thank you for asking!!

I've continued this little snippet of my Marauders' Era fic a little. Here's a peek into Bessie's headspace:

Camron wouldn't talk to her that night, when she got back to the common room. Frankly, she didn't understand his sudden altruism. He'd never seemed to care that much before but then again, everything had changed so much since Stephen's death. Their parents' marriage was in shambles and Camron, who had once been her best friend in the world, didn't confide in her the way that he used to. She had probably changed too, but it was harder to tell from such a close proximity. Mary McDonald had called her cold-hearted, and maybe that was true. Or maybe it wasn't. Who was she to judge Bessie. None of her classmates knew the first thing about her, and she liked it that way. It was better to keep them at an arm's distance.

As for Genevieve; here's a little something from her pre-hogwarts letter adventures (cw: death):

Edith Allen was dead. In her place stood someone else. It sometimes felt like she was something else now. Genevieve Davenport wasn't anything like the scared, little girl huddling under damp blankets beside the rotting corpses of her parents. Genevieve knew how to make things fall over with a flick of her finger, how to physically hurt someone without touching them, how to make something catch fire with just a look, and how to twist the air around herself just enough to make people look elsewhere while she took what she needed. As years passed, her skills grew too, and there were people who wanted to find her, to catch her. To kill her. Only they couldn't. This was her city. And in her city she was immortal.

[fischerfrey]

i just found this in my notes app, written a few weeks ago, directly after playing through you-know-what during year 6! spoilers abound, verna is unhinged and commits light arson. read at your own risk.

~

the common room was quiet. everyone had already gone to bed. even charlie and ben had eventually disappeared into the boys' dorm. verna stared at the arm chair rowan always used to occupy, and the christmas tree behind it. it was mocking her. its tinsel, baubles, and enchanted little candles going on as if the whole world hadn't just stopped. as if rakepick hadn't torn verna's heart out of her chest and cut it into little pieces right in front of her eyes. she had blood on the sleeve of her christmas jumper. she wasn't sure if the cut on her arm had stopped bleeding and frankly, she didn't care. she wanted to tear that bloody tree down. she wanted to tear down something more than the tree, but it was her best option at the minute. in a burst of rage, she got up and marched over to it. she grabbed the tinsel and pulled. it came off easily, dislodging a few of the baubles. after that first pull, it was quick work to strip the fir carcass of all its splendor. she didn't stop there. she broke off its branches, one by one, the needles pricking her skin. fuck that. fuck this. the world wasn't meant to be beautiful or comforting on a day like this one. the scene kept playing in her head. how quickly it had happened, how quickly it was all over.

~ and the aftermath. the trek back to the castle, she and charlie carrying rowan as gently as they could. charlie and ben had to switch places halfway through, because charlie couldn't stop crying. walking up to the hospital wing although they all knew there was nothing to be done. being escorted to the headmaster's office by a stern and quiet professor sprout. verna didn't remember what dumbledore had said. she only remembered the simmering anger she had felt for the quiet disapproval of the teachers. yes, they had broken the rules, but no one else did anything in this school. they'd all still be frozen in the fucking cursed ice if it wasn't for verna and her friends. and verna would be frozen in the cursed ice if it wasn't for rowan. rowan. rowan. rowan. the last time they'd spoken had been an argument. verna felt sick. she pulled out her wand, pointing it at the wreck that remained of the christmas tree.

"incendio," she whispered, and watched as the flames started to spread in her carnage. she didn't move as the flames grew larger and the smoke started to rise and cover the room. she didn't move even, when she heard someone call her name. the air was hot and the smoke permeated her lungs. she felt a hand grab her by the arm and pull her back from the fire. several different voices casted aquamenti, and verna suddenly came crashing back to her senses. she turned around to see charlie, professor mcgonagall, and many other gryffindor students eyeing her with varying degrees of alarm "miss malinda, are you hurt?" asked the professor. verna shook her head. charlie moved first, wrapping his arms around verna. he didn't say anything, not even when professor mcgonagall requested that the both of them follow her to her office. she sent the rest of the students back to bed and then charlie and verna followed her out of the common room.

[fischerfrey]

Sneak peak for a Marauders’ Era fic I might publish one day!

This takes place during the Quinn twins’ 6th year at Hogwarts.

It was March, and Stephen had been dead for three years. Bessie was sitting on the stairs leading up to the Owlery, waiting for Camron to show up. On the anniversary of their brother’s death, they’d taken up the habit to meet somewhere quiet, away from the hustle of the common room and just sit in silence. The past two years, there had been really nothing to say, but this year was different. This year, the both of them knew there had been something not quite right about Stephen’s death. He hadn’t died in an accident. He had been murdered.

Their parents didn’t believe them and refused to involve the Aurors but Bessie was sure. During the Christmas holidays, she had found a box hidden under the floorboards in Stephen’s room. It was full of paper clippings, photographs, notes, and all other sorts of things relating to the Death-Eaters, a terrorist group with extremist views. It appeared Stephen had been looking into several prominent witches and wizards, examining their ties to the group. It wasn’t a very big leap from that to assume that the Death-Eaters had murdered him for whatever he had found out. Unfortunately, the box didn’t contain anything that could be used as evidence, and anyway, Bessie wanted to stay as far away from any of it as possible. She didn’t want to be the cause of the next family tragedy. Same couldn’t said for her remaining brother, though.

“Here already?” came a sudden question, rousing her from her thoughts. Camron was wearing his Slytherin Quidditch team jumper, and his hair was a mess.

“Did you come straight from practice?” she asked incredulously, ignoring his question.

“No,” he said, taking a seat on the stair next to her. “I mean, we didn’t have a practice. I just wanted to be alone for a while and… well… let out some steam.”

Bessie nodded. Camron wasn’t very good at expressing his feelings with words, a trait which seemed to run in their family.

“I don’t want you to look into it,” she continued after a brief pause.

“That’s not your decision.”

“As the older twin, I think it is.”

“It doesn’t count because we’re twins.”

Bessie sighed. Her head had begun to ache unpleasantly. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Don’t you think we’re already in danger because of Stephen’s actions no matter what we do? Everybody knows he is— was our brother.”

“No, it’s not that simple! Why can’t you ever listen to me?”

Camron twisted in his seat, frowning at her. “I can’t just let this be. He wanted to help people and so do I. Those Death-Eaters are hurting people.”

“Muggles. They’re hurting muggles, and muggles aren’t our problem.”

She knew she had said the wrong thing immediately, from the way Camron’s face fell. He looked disappointed and angry. “What I mean is that—"

“I know what you meant,” Camron said flatly and got up. “I have to go.”

“Wait Cam, I—”

Her brother didn’t stop to listen, and honestly, she didn’t know what exactly it was she could’ve said.