i've always been a storm.

glenda chittock. she liked thunderstorms, because she knew that chaos existed, not only in her veins, in her mind, but in the universe and if something as infinite as the universe needed to release its chaos, then so could she, a mere speck on the universal spectrum nineteen. likes plants and pot. order. can be heard on the WWN daily.

[wtchinghour]

strelawncy:

“I think I would rather just have a Coke,” Sybill replied, half-ordering, half-talking to Glenda, looking around with wide eyes. Parties were never really her scene. They never seemed to end well, either for her or for other people, but she decided to indulge for her former roommate. She even promised to try to keep her predictions to a minimum. 

“Happy Birthday, Glenda.” She smiled at her. “I think you will like this year’s gift.” 

“Oh that’s definitely cool, too,” said Glenda, giving Sybill a wide grin. “Thank you! I’m so glad you made it; it wouldn’t have been the same without you.” Then, a pause, in which she pulled the other in a quick hug. “Really? Can you give me a bit of a spoiler as to why?”

[wtchinghour]

mcrlsmckinncn:

“Finally someone around here is speaking the language I love, where have you been hiding out all my life, hmm, Chittock?” Marlene mocked the other, beaming up in delight as she made herself comfortable in her seat. “I’m certainly not going to say no, as long as you’re down for me buying the birthday girl the next round of shots, deal?” 

“Oh, I’ve been lurking just behind you all these years, that’s why you never really knew me until now,” she said deadpan, before laughing slightly. “I’m so glad you came, McKinnon! And yeah, that sounds like a solid plan, I’m definitely down.” Glenda waved her wand, muttered an accio, and watched two beers fly their way ( perhaps not the best way to get some beers in a crowded room, but her judgement had been clouded by a few other beers ). “There y’go! How’ve you been, then?”

[wtchinghour]

emvcnitys:

“Not a party person, or a beer person. If I’m going to drink and put up with THIS,” Emma gestured to the rowdy scene around her in distaste, glaring up at the other. “I’m going to need something much stronger than a beer.” Why she was even there in the first place with the clear indicators everywhere that a party was happening was beyond her, but Emma needed to unwind and drink in hopes to numb the pain from the days practice. “don’t you have friends to celebrate with?”

“Well, first round’s on me, so just pick anything. Just no outrageous drinks like cocktails, yeah? I gotta watch my money at least a little bit,” she said, frowning a bit at the other. She didn’t understand this kind of behaviour; perhaps it was because she was slightly buzzed already or because she was simply not wired to be a grump. “Don’t be a party pooper, yeah? If you don’t wanna put up with my birthday -- which is like, the party of the year, those Shafiq’s should take notes -- you should go to that side of the bar. Didn’t hire that part. Or just have some fun, you know!”

[wtchinghour]

dahliaflevrperi:

The energy in the Three Broomsticks was infectiously bright, and Dahlia couldn’t help but be fascinated by it. Glenda had transformed the place around them into her own birthday wonderland and her eyes looked all around the newly transformed space. “Thank you for inviting me, darling!” Dahlia yelled over the music, something that while it was very unlike her, was necessary for the venue. “Let me pay for a few rounds, please, like you said it’s not every day you turn twenty – you’re leaving your teen years behind! I should be paying for your drinks to MOURN the loss of your adolescence!”

Glenda jumped from excitement before enveloping Dahlia in a tight hug, grin bright on her face. “I’m so glad you came!!,” she said -- or shouted, actually, the Clash playing loudly in the background. She was already buzzed -- blame the three broomsticks and their wide array of beers -- but her excitement to see the other was sincere. “Oh, only if you insist! And yikes, that sounds a tad scary; I don’t know if I’m ready to say goodbye yet!! Gone are the years where I could blame everything on puberty; I’m an official adult now. Rest in peace, young me. You’ll be missed!!”

[despondentparamour]

Visit Original Link

Hello daddy, hello mom, I’m your ch ch ch cherry bomb!

[mudblvds-blog1]

“The amount of people who have had cauldrons explode in their face is, surprisingly, a lot. I’d imagine they have a harder time trying not to make it explode,” Mary chortled lightly, having a sip of her coffee. It was not a good coffee. “Though, does make an interesting day at work.”

[wtchinghour]

“Oh, I’m definitely one of the people has trouble not making it explode,” Glenda said, laughing softly. “I remember that one time in second year when my cauldron exploded and my nose hair just sprouted EVERYWHERE. It was a right disaster.”

[wtchinghour]

“C’mon, get yourself a beer! First round’s on me!,” Glenda near-yelled, wide grin on her face, a party hat lopsided on her head. Music was filling the Three Broomsticks -- half of which she had hired for the occasion ( it had cost a ton, and she’d decided to compensate by not buying any new records or fish & chips for a while ) -- and she was nearly bouncing with excitement. “It’s not every day your girl turns twenty, y’know, so you’d better celebrate.”

[wtchinghour]

meadowiisms:

“ Neither. “ The young witch replied sincerely before shrugging her shoulders, well aware that her answers was probably the last thing the other wanted to here. “ Just representing Gringotts s’all, dunno how the goblins bloody managed it… but being here seems more of a PUNISHMENT to me. “ Which wasn’t a lie in it’s entirety she’d been against showing up at this gathering from the start. After all who’d want to? Most of her fellow Order members wouldn’t go near any of the people who had been invited to this party on a regular day it simply just wasn’t done. “ Perhaps you should try someone else? I may not be all that much of an entertaining interview. “ Doe replied with a tilt of her head. 

“Oh, you sound entertaining enough!,” said Glenda, giving Dorcas a grin. She knew that not everyone liked being interviewed; to some, the mic seemed more like a weapon than a friend, but she and her listeners were intrigued to hear as to why the other thought the party was a punishment. Journalism wasn’t good journalism, unless you heard a ton of different point of views ( even when making an item about a graduation party ). “Why’s this party a punishment, then? Many others seem to be enjoying the food and music and general festivities.” That wasn’t to say Glenda didn’t get it; this party was hardly her scene, too.

[wtchinghour]

broomstuck:

james smiles as glenda approaches with the microphone ,  hands in his pockets ,  a knowing look gracing elegant features .  her words elicit a laugh ,  or perhaps that’s the eagerness with which she conducts the ‘ interview ’ .  he supposes there’s no way to get out of this ,  not that he’d really even want to ,  and resigns himself to his fate .  a cheeky smile paints itself along the edges of his lips .     ❛     do you interrogate all of your friends ,  chittock  ,  or am i special ?     ❜     he  asks ,  nose scrunching slightly and teasing evident in his tone .

“You already know the answer to that question, don’t you?,” she said, giving him a smirk. “Of course you’re special, and that’s why you should be featured on tomorrow’s Witching Hour.” Glenda’s glad to stand across from James, who got her cheeky way of handling interviews ( if she wanted to do them formally, she’d have become a newsreader or Prophet employee ). “I’m sure all my listeners are eager to know why you are here, so spill the tea, why are you here?”

[wnq-writers]

Her aura is made of poetry, roses, and galaxies.

hasher-iwm (via wnq-writers)

[bluesneighbourhood]

the quiet // troye sivan (for @trpye)

[wtchinghour]

cburbage:

Charity hadn’t expected tonight to be perfect. She was sure she would manage to fall into an awkward conversation or two, but it seemed she had gotten far more than she bargained for. All she wanted was to say goodbye to some students, but it was near impossible to see them from where she was hiding from the crowd. Her mind had drifted while scanning the crowd, and she found herself debating whether she ought to look for decent conversation to pass the night by or leave early. She was leaning towards the latter when she found a tape recorder in her face and wished she had left sooner.

“I’m just here to say goodbye to my students,” she answered coolly before retorting, “What about you? A friend or just a  gossip who thought tonight would be interesting?” 

She cursed herself --- she should’ve recognised professor Burbage, should have asked a better question. Of course she knew the graduated: she had seen him almost daily the years before. Glenda didn’t show it, though, nor did she show her annoyance with the others’ comment: she was not a gossip. She liked talking about fun stories and important changes on the air, not about who wore what best; she preferred leaving that to the Rita Skeeters of the world. 

“Of course --- I should have figured you were, professor. Feeling a bit sentimental? Any students you’re going to miss a bit more than the others?,” she wondered, giving the other a polite smile. “Oh, neither! I’m not a gossip; Witching Hour is all about people, not about gossip, and I am just here to get the general feel of the evening on tape so I can make a report on it all. You can catch it tomorrow between three and four!”

[wtchinghour]

strelawncy:

“Oh, yes, that was it,” she replied, perhaps a bit more eager than she should have been considering she was talking about the fate of a friend’s grandmother. 

Finally, a smile graced the former Ravenclaw’s lips. A prediction not proved wrong and the company of a friend. Perhaps she could have a moment of enjoyment before the chaos. “Neither have I.” She watched Glenda take a sip and swirled her glass. “Certainly strong.”

“I’m sure she’ll be okay,” said Glenda, shrugging slightly. She hadn’t seen her maternal grandmother for over fifteen years, and found it strange to think about her wellbeing.

When Sybill smiled, she felt a bit better and flashed the other a grin. “Oh yes, they’re pretty good at making their drinks strong, those rich ones,” she said, chuckling. “Nothing wrong with letting go a little and getting a little tipsy, right? Or just drunk, to be honest.”

[grcvityfallen-deactivated201708]

the party was in full swing by the time that evan actually bothered to show up. he knew that he needed to at least make an appearance, at least some sort of attempt to do what was asked of him. he was known around his small circle not for being the fiercest fighter or the most brutal, but for being the one that just.. knows things. his power of observation and the way that he simply just doesn’t mindless chat, he notices things. 

grabbing a random flute off a tray passing him by, evan already knew that some people were far too drunk. supposed order members and death eaters alike. they seemed to have forgotten how they should be tense around each other, that they should be wary. his job was almost too easy when people were this drunk, he drank easily from his glasses and shook his head with almost a small smile. he knew that he needed to, at least, attempt to socialize. “ does this event only have damned champagne to drink? or did they realize that some people might need something a bit stronger? ”

[wtchinghour]

Glenda was still surprised whenever she arrived someplace new. Whether it was a small town, a strange city or a big house like this, she couldn’t help but feel baffled, moved, by every new place she stumbled across. The Shafiq home, however, surprised her even more; Glenda came from a small flat and the grand entrance hall and enormous ballroom almost made her feel dizzy. It was only logical that she needed a bit of champagne to make her feel less overwhelmed.

When she heard someone complain about the drinks – she had consumed a few glasses by then – she couldn’t help but let out a scoff. “It’s not like we’re drinking some cheap wine, it’schampagne,” Glenda said. “Not much wrong with that, if you ask me.” She took a sip from her glass. “But, there’s other stuff. I saw some glasses of red in the hall, I think, and there’s probably more.” She paused, eyeing Evan Rosier for a moment. “You could always try accio, if you hate this stuff that much.”

[wtchinghour]

strelawncy:

“Oh. Yes. Right.” Sybill tried to brush off Glenda’s words, but it always stung. No one ever seemed to believe her predictions and often times it made her wonder question herself. How was anyone to be believe  she was the great-great granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney?

“Yes. It’s quite the party.” She looked back up at her former roommate with a small smile. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

While Glenda had her issues with Divination, she didn’t like this. She thought for a moment, eyeing Sybill. “Y’know, I barely even know my other grandma. Who knows what she’s up to,” she said, shrugging. “I bet she’s feeling a bit under the weather, or something.”

Then, she nodded. “For sure, yeah! I’ve never seen a house this big, it’s quite an adventure.” Glenda took a sip. “And the drinks are good.”

[frnklcngbottm-blog]

frank had been wishing it would be a firm NO he would return to the shafiq’s invitation to join their party. he’d attended his fair share of pureblood parties in his youth and he had no great wish to return. the longbottom family had been disowned from the sacred twenty-eight for exactly ten years now, and quite frankly, frank was happy to be rid of them – that just wasn’t where he belonged. however, when he got the message from his supervisor that he would be required to attend the party as a safety presence, his no was begrudgingly changed to a yes.

on the day of the party, he found himself wandering in hours late, hoping silently that he wouldn’t be required to stay for too long. remembering the manor from his days as a kid, he navigated his way to the living room where he found a glass of champagne to snag off a waiter. as he stood in the middle of the room, he looked around at the people surrounding him. “quite the mix,” he mused to no one in particular, taking a small sip from his drink. “not your regular pureblood party, then.”

[wtchinghour]

These things were not her scene. Glenda Chittock had not been build for gowns and sparkling champagne, but rather for summery dresses and bottles of beer, and she couldn’t help but feel slightly out of place. This was a party for rich people, for people who’d been born into a certain environment that was POLAR opposite of her youth, but everyone was there nonetheless. She was both intrigued and overwhelmed by everything happening around her, and allowed herself to take it all in without feeling cynical.

( Of course, she did. At least, a little; a party like this for graduating school seemed a bit much to her, but she was here for work and her own enjoyment, and tried to let her sceptic feelings go. )

When she overheard Frank Longbottom comment on the party, Glenda turned her head. “S’pose not, yeah,” she said, chuckling slightly. “I bet pureblood parties don’t usually have an open invite, right? With all those damned mudbloods roaming the streets these days. Quite a risk, really, allowing people like me to be at a party like this. Who knows what I’ll do, with my muddy manners and lack of pure blood. Oh boy!”

[strelawncy-blog]

Sybill found a seat in the outskirts of the chaos. A nice, hidden place for her to people watch. If she was being more honest with herself, she had been asked to sit out for predicting something terrible to happen at this event. Apparently such predictions were frowned upon. She was used to people responding this way, but she still felt it her duty to warn them. 

However, now, she sat, swirling her glass and taking turns look at the swishing champagne and the people when — she locked eyes with someone. 

“Is your grandmother quite well? I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

[wtchinghour]

Glenda had packed up her equipment a few moments ago and was now just enjoying the party, a third glass in her hand and walking around aimlessly. This was a good party -- not necessarily her kind of party, but a good one nonetheless -- and she was looking for one way or another to entertain herself. A good conversation, a few jokes; she didn’t really mind.

She didn’t expect this, though. 

“Huh?,” was her first response, eyes falling on her former roommate. “My grandma is dead, Syb.” A pause, in which Glenda bit her lip. “You enjoying yourself?”