#gidconprcwctt

[vermiculus-incipiens]

VI Quote of the Week:

She knew all these things and could speak of them with conviction, and yet… Her hands tightened on Remus’s clothes and she buried her face at his shoulder again, eyes tightly closed against the tears threatening to overwhelm her. “I don’t doubt James, I just doubt the rest of the world… Remy, I doubt everything else, and then I feel awful because I shouldn’t be doubting and then I feel even more awful because he’s not the only one…”                                                       -- hehashereyes, Friends in Dark Times

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“I can plant some evidence if you need me to.” Gideon replied dryly. “I’m a politician, turning and twisting things that don’t fit into my plan until they do is sort of my job.” At least on the bad days. Millicent had decided from the very beginning of her campaign, that honesty should be their motto, that she wouldn’t lie or cover up the truth in pretty words, even if it would make running for office twice as hard for her. Gideon appreciated that. It had been the reason why he’d wanted to work for her. And they were planning on holding onto it, no matter how difficult it was going to be.                                               -- gidconprcwctt, Ghost of Christmas Present

“I’m very proud of you.” The words were spoken so softly and so suddenly that, at first, all Edgar could do was lower the camera and stare at his mother.

Throughout his childhood, he’d been constantly corrected or told off. Through Hogwarts, he was always being asked, “Why couldn’t you be more like your brother?” and told that with his attitude he would never amount to anything. Even when he found himself a decent career he had to listen to endless lectures about how his work was useless and would never pay enough to support a family. He’d never heard her say the words, ‘I’m proud of you’. For a second he doubted his translation, wondering if he’d forgotten Italian so much that he’d messed it up somehow, but he knew that wasn’t true.                                                       -- edgarbonesknows, Words Unspoken

Alice was staring at her desk. She had been for a while. It was obvious that there was something horribly wrong with it, but she couldn’t make up her mind about what that thing was. After a while she pushed at the files lying on her table. She began sorting them, first in alphabetical order and then in order of urgency, and five minutes later she moved on to her quills and ink, making perfect rows of each. There was still something that didn’t feel quite right.                                                            -- dirtandflowers, World of Tomorrow

[gracingmeadows]

🍼

- name: Hannah Theodora Prewett- likes / dislikes: the colour blue, any animal with fluffy fur, music, chocolate milk and puzzles with pictures of owls / bedtimes, itchy sooks, brussel sprouts and she has a vague dislike towards hiphop music- just like her daddy - first word: “Pippa” (aka their cat) ((second word was ´no´ and at that moment, both Gid and Doe realised that they had a lot of fun years ahead)- appearance: She´s got a mop of dark hair that is usually everywhere (despite desperate attempts), and none of them really knows where the chaotic curls comes from. With her sea of freckles and dimples whenever she smiles, nobody is really safe from Hannah´s charm (both parents tease that the charming gene comes from them). - which parent they look more like: It´s an even mix; her eyes are definetely from Gideon, but her mouth and nose comes from Dorcas- which parent they like more: Hannah is a total daddy´s girl, and Dorcas highly suspects that it´s because he spoils her and bribe her with chocolate - height once fully grown: 5,2; she´s a shortie just like her mum - job ambition: it varies- their favorite was when she was four and decided she would be the first witch to fly to the moon on a broomstick. - faceclaim: As a kid, I kinda see her as Mackenzie Foy?

[vermiculus-incipiens]

VI Quote of the Week:

For me, it is like the birth of a cosmos, a universe. It’s sudden and unexpected and chaotic, celestial bodies colliding without warning in an explosion passionate enough to birth a thousand suns and kill them in a heartbeat. It creates galaxies inside your mouth, and shooting stars cold enough to burn in your mind, and a sun hot enough to calcine you inside out.                          -- cherrybomb-witch, How does falling in love feel for you?

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He was at ease, more than usual. Alastor would probably even scold him and call him careless, sitting with his back to the door, his wand in one of his pockets, Gideon didn’t even know himself which one exactly. Today was orange, and somehow in the eyes of his brother, that was a bad thing. Gideon even considered it a nuisance himself, at least on the days that were not orange. Today though he laughed at his own ignorance. Orange was the best colour in the world.                                                                     -- gidconprcwctt, Help Wanted

Even as she spoke, she wished that Moody would interrupt her. She was regretting her outburst even as it happened— it was immature and petulant and the opposite of professional, and how was she ever going to convince him that she would be a good Auror if she was being immature and petulant and the opposite of professional? She made herself be quiet, biting her lip to physically stop the rush of words.                                                     -- perennialgrace, Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop

A wet snow drifted past the front window of Volkov’s Books of the Dark Magics, piling on the windowsill like slushy dust. It had been falling all night, as if the weather were aware of the human holiday dawning with the 25th of December, and now a few inches of snow covered the cobblestone streets outside. It was more slush than proper snow, squelching and splashing beneath the feet of anyone walking through it, splattering the hems of passersby’s robes and turning murky and brown with the dirt and grime of Knockturn Alley.                                               -- karkaroff-silvertongue, Home From Home

[gracingmeadows]

Coffee and chats II Gideon & Dorcas II 7th of December 1979

Hospitals had always made her shiver. Dorcas did not have any terrible memories in particular tied to them, it was just the way they made her feel. Everything was too clean, it smelled too sterile. As if they doused everything in alcohol to burn away the stench of illness and death. Doe tried to avoid them the best she could, but sometimes she would brave them.

Nurses were milling through in their icy white uniforms like hurried birds scattering. Some gave her tired smiles when she passed them -which Dorcas made sure to return on full strength- while others enviously eyed the two cups of coffee that she held in her hand. The proper kind, not the grimy things that plagued hospitals, pretending to be actual caffeine. They would do in a pinch, but she reckoned that after being stuck with the hospital kind for the past days, Gideon would appreciate one that actually tasted good. 

Dorcas hummed to herself as she made her way through the magical hospital, nodding and giving ´hello´s to whoever walked past. She hadn´t had time to properly see her friend since the incident -the past week had been spent pacing and throwing herself over work in search of distractions- but now he was supposed to be up and about. At least that was what the helpful nurse in the reception had told her when Doe had asked for directions to his room.  

“Well, well, well,” Dorcas exclaimed as she opened the door, balancing the cups in her other hand. A bright smile was instantly on her lips the second she saw Gideon, and it was like she she let out a breath she didn´t even knew she was holding. She knew he would be okay in the end, but that did not stop her from worrying. Doe didn´t let that show though, as she strode into the room. “If it isn´t the wounded bastard.”

She gave a laugh to amplify that it was all in good humour, and held out one of the cups as a peace offering. “Don´t tell the nurses, but I smuggled you real coffee. I brought a pack of chocolate as well, but I ate half of that on the tube. I´m willing to share the rest though. How are you holding up, Gid?” 

[perennialgrace]

Help Wanted || Daisy & Gideon || November 27th, 1979

Daisy scowled at the newspaper, absently crinkling the corner between her fingers. If any passers-by had glanced her way, she undoubtedly would have appeared to be terribly cross. Really, though, she was disheartened. She needed a job.

Daisy was growing bored. Devoting all her time to the Order had seemed like such a good idea back in September, but… well, attacks didn’t happen on a daily basis. Which was a very good thing, of course. But the rest of her Order duties— meetings, stakeouts, patrols, whatever she could do, it really didn’t take up that much time. Not all her time, at least. All her friends her age were at school, all her older friends had jobs to fill their days— she was bored.

But practically no one was hiring. She’d been scanning the stupid Prophet every day lately, and job listings were few and far between, and those that did appear always seemed to require more age and experience then she had. And more education. A lot of jobs were beyond her reach, given that she didn’t have her NEWTs.

Reaching the end of a promising job description only to be met with another footnote that a NEWT in Charms was required, Daisy had finally had it with the whole stupid business. She scrunched the paper into a ball tossed it as hard as she could, aiming for a nearby bin. Her aim was rather off, though, and instead the paper hit some poor passerby square in the face. “Oh my god!” Daisy exclaimed, hands flying to her face. “I’m so sorry!”