darling boy

inís; That this is the girl from the story won’t register until much later, but the feeling upon seeing her is the same across the board: blood rises to the surface, and everything is warm. It is as if the body is reacting to something it knows naturally, intrinsically—like responding to her is as involuntary as the heart beating. It is as if the core of your being recognizes her as divine.

rugged country, japanese breakfast; ruin your night, sorcha richardson; i don’t know you, the marías; glory, wye oak; providence, foals; gun, emiliana torrini; i know what i am, band of skulls; savior, st. vincent; standard bitter love song #7, the mountain goats; cake, pom pom squad; rich kids blues, lykke li; smile, wolf alice

Xoxo, Hiyas

Like, there’s this pissed off dragon mother, right? It’s been boxed up, taken to this strange place, then stuck in a noisy arena where its eggs are being threatened. This dragon is probably Unbelievably scared and angry. 

It can take 4-8 adult wizards working in tandem to Stun a dragon, especially a pissed off one, but Fleur “fairy princess” Delacour walks into that arena, stares down an angry apex predator, and somehow manages to single-handedly enchant it to sleep. This Common Welsh Green is surrounded by hundreds of people, needs to protect its eggs, but Fleur Delacour’s magic manages to override all of its fear and anger? That is an incredible feat of powerful and probably very complex magic. 

Like, no wonder Fleur Delacour can come off as condescending, that is mind-blowingly impressive. That is the work of 4-8 adult wizards. You cannot tell me that the watching dragon-handlers were not LOSING THEIR MINDS. 

Between sexism and Fleur being part-Veela, it is unfortunately very realistic that she faces a lot of prejudice, but come on, Professors Sprout and Hagrid and etc. must have been going wild. It’s only some very bad luck that her skirt was accidentally set on fire. She got the golden egg. There was zero damage to the dragon or to the real eggs. Even if Madame Maxime and Fleur worked together to prepare it, Fleur still had to do it, and Madame Maxime would have been so rightly furious that Fleur’s bravery and magical skill wasn’t recognized. 

Anyway, part of where I’m going with this, is that this injustice also creates some choice eldest Weasley brother reactions. Like Bill Weasley is writing his regular letters to Charlie, right? And he happens to mention, “Hey, I met this woman at work, on that guardian beast problem with that tomb I was telling you about. Do you remember the Beauxbatons Champion, Fleur Delacour?” 

And Charlie Weasley writes back like, “DO I REMEMBER FLEUR DELACOUR? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! WE HAVE A POSTER OF HER ON OUR WALL! I HAVE HER GRADUATING CHARMS THESIS ON CALMING MAGICAL CREATURES AND I WANT IT SIGNED. SHE REVOLUTIONIZED OUR DEALINGS WITH DRAGONS HERE. INJURIES ON THE RESERVE FOR DRAGONS AND HANDLERS ARE DOWN BY LIKE 75% SINCE WE BEGAN IMPLEMENTING HER REINVENTED SPELLWORK.” 

“Uh, alright then. Well, you can send that to me and I will ask her to sign it for you,” Bill Weasley, an extremely successful Curse-Breaker, writes back. (It isn’t that he doesn’t find Fleur Delacour’s accomplishments very impressive, it is just that the poster on the wall thing is a Bit Weird.) “That’s not going to be weird when I ask her out or anything. Wish me luck.” 

And Charlie writes back, “LUCK? LUCK?! WILLIAM WEASLEY, IF YOU DON’T MARRY THAT WOMAN, I’LL DISOWN YOU. TELL HER THAT IF GRINGOTTS DOESN’T APPRECIATE HER, SHE CAN COME TO ROMANIA. WE’RE BROKE, BUT I HAVE A DOZEN MUSCLED WIZARDS, WITCHES, AND OTHERS READY TO PROPOSE TO HER ON THE SPOT.” 

“I was thinking dinner first,” Bill writes back. “But I’ll let her know?” 

So, Fleur initially has to deal with a lot of crap from the Weasley Family, but at least she’s always got Charlie “Number One Fleur Delacour Fan” Weasley in her corner. You’ll catch Uncle Charlie excitedly telling the story of Fleur Delacour in the First Task to Bill’s children forever. 

(Charlie: “IF YOU DON’T MARRY HER THEN I WILL!” 

Bill: “Charlie, you’re not even into women.” 

Hi, lovely people of the internet.

This year has been really tough on my resources and there are some things coming up that I anticipate to take a huge toll. Likewise, I need a hand up, so to speak, so I can commit to work I've been offered for next year. I'm aware it hasn't been easy for anyone, but if you could extend some kindness, that'd be greatly appreciated. More on the goal in the Ko-fi link below!

The time has come! Who wants to try out our @sortinghatchats style sorting quiz? 

Go here and begin your adventure: 

https://ejadelomax.itch.io/sortinghatchats

If you run across any bugs or errors, let us know in the sortinghatchats ask box. If the whole thing just jumps to the top of the page and… shakes… that is a known bug and we’re not sure why it’s happening. But it doesn’t happen very often! (I think it’s to do with the hosting site?)

We had a blast making this quiz, coming up with wording and questions, and testing the paths people can take through the quiz content. We even made some new friends along the way! 

pairing: ron weasley x daphne greengrass

setting: modern, non-magical, organized crime au

story intro based on this concept for rare pair summer slam 2k19

—

[1]

The Cat’s Cradle

Redondo Beach, CA

12/29/2018 | 23:42 PM PST

 —

“So, by this point, I’m pretty sure this guy’s girlfriend is, you know, propositioning me, and there’s four million dollars’ worth of Flemish Baroque portraiture just sitting there, uncovered, without even any security—oh, thank you,” Daphne says, cutting herself off and directing a small, effortlessly sincere smile towards the bartender as she takes her new drink. It’s a sidecar, which Ron had initially kind of alternated between inwardly scoffing and grimacing at, but there’s something about the color—that bright, bubbly, citrusy yellow-orange—that almost makes up for having to suffer the hugely pretentious indignity of actually ordering one.

It fits her.

Palma de Mallorca Airport

7/14/2019 | 14:01 PM (GMT +2)

—

Ron hitches his brown leather laptop bag—his brand-new, insanely overpriced, frankly kind of fucking ugly brown leather laptop bag—higher up on his shoulder, consciously trying not to fidget with his bronze-tinted sunglasses.

Those are new, too.

All of him is new, head to fucking toe, from the artfully mussed, hipster-shaggy haircut to the tight, acid-washed denim tennis shorts to the short-sleeved striped linen shirt someone had unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, exposing both way too much of his bare, fragile, freckled skin and way too many grungy designer hemp necklaces. He has on a pair of color-blocked suede boat shoes that look like they’ve recently been sent through a washing machine, and no socks. Not even a hint of socks. And he smells—

Christ, he smells like a goddamn AirPods commercial.

the sacred twenty-eight — house of black

hi hey hello!!!! it is i your semi-local benevolent yet ominously forgetful instrument of Fate and i have appeared out of the mists and gloom and caterpillar infested rain spouts of late spring to announce that it is officially SUMMER which means that it is also officially *checks notes* time to SLAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! see what i did there??? haha very cool!!!

rules (????):

now that the qualifying rounds are over this is all basically going to go exactly like this bad boy did

i’ve posted the full bracket

and the full schedule

and the prizes for each round

you can check out propaganda if your opinions feel particularly malleable 

or use the story concepts for all 16 pairings as a voting guide

you can vote once per day

results will always be reblogged onto this post

do not cheat

i will know if you cheat 

if you have questions you can ask me but the chances are pretty slim that i’ll give you a coherent answer

it’s just not my brand sorry

will not be accepting any feedback on this as that is also not my brand

less sorry about that 

anyway,,,,,go team

story intros for all 8 pairings

poll closes 7/13 around noon PST

pairing: ron weasley x daphne greengrass

setting: modern, non-magical, organized crime au

story intro based on this concept for rare pair summer slam 2k19

—

The Cat’s Cradle

Redondo Beach, CA

12/29/2018 | 23:42 PM PST

 —

“So, by this point, I’m pretty sure this guy’s girlfriend is, you know, propositioning me, and there’s four million dollars’ worth of Flemish Baroque portraiture just sitting there, uncovered, without even any security—oh, thank you,” Daphne says, cutting herself off and directing a small, effortlessly sincere smile towards the bartender as she takes her new drink. It’s a sidecar, which Ron had initially kind of alternated between inwardly scoffing and grimacing at, but there’s something about the color—that bright, bubbly, citrusy yellow-orange—that almost makes up for having to suffer the hugely pretentious indignity of actually ordering one.

It fits her.

The floral perfume and the sparkling teeth and the neatly crossed ankles and the white lace peter pan collar on her green velvet mini dress. The art history grad student with the pristine manicure and the fishnet stockings and the all-too endearing, vaguely self-conscious hitch in her laugh that makes him wonder what she could possibly have to be so worried about.

Of course she drinks sidecars.  

Ron’s whole job is to put puzzle pieces together; he can appreciate the easy, uncomplicated appeal of one that’s already been finished for him. Because a problem solved isn’t a problem at all, and there’s beauty in simplicity, and—shit like that. He doesn’t need to bring his work home with him to have a good time, is his fucking point.

“Anyway,” Daphne says, clearing her throat and reaching up to fiddle with an oversized pearl earring, “sorry, what was I—”

“You were telling me about the charity auction you helped organize,” Ron says quickly, mouth opening and closing like a goddamn goldfish as he chases the obnoxious little cocktail straw around in his own drink. “And the, uh, the—Microsoft guy? Who bought all the—the stuff? The art stuff?”

Daphne smiles again—half as sweet, twice as sly—and ducks her chin. “Right. The, um, art stuff.”

Ron shrugs and grins, leaning sideways into the bar, elbow propped up. “I’m actually in town for an art thing, up at the Getty?”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, I do—well, I can’t talk about a lot of it, but right now there’s this big bidding war on these, like, hella old books from some monastery in France, so I have to go spend a week locked in the basement up there because of photosensitivity, which—what? What’s wrong?”

Next to him, Daphne has gone very still, her gaze flitting up and over his shoulder, towards where the neon green EXIT sign is. “Oh, nothing, sorry, I just—I thought I saw something. Someone. Actually, do you mind if I just—” She twists the strap of her impractically tiny purse around her fingers. “I need to make a quick phone call? Outside? If that’s okay?”

Ron is nodding before she can even finish getting all the words out, offering her what he hopes is more of a sultry, confidently encouraging smirk than whatever his face is normally capable of, which is decidedly not that.

“Yeah, yeah, for sure,” he stammers, ice cubes clinking as he gulps down the rest of his drink, wincing at the burn. “I’ll just—wait. Here. For you. Take your time. I mean—if you need to. There’s no rush, is what I’m saying. Getting at. I’ll just—be here.”

Daphne slides off her stool, finishing-school graceful, leaving her newest sidecar untouched, and then stops, hesitates, glancing up at Ron through the dark, sooty fan of her lashes. Her smile dims, just the slightest bit, turning wistful and rueful around the edges, fragile, almost, like a star that’s finally managed to burn itself out, while the diamond stud in her nose winks and glitters where it catches the shitty dive bar mood lighting.

“I want you to know—you’re really, really sweet,” she blurts out, and then immediately presses her lips together, cheeks pink, and shakes her head. “Sorry. I’ve—” She waves a sleek, rose gold iPhone at him and gestures weakly to the door. “I’ll come right back, yeah?”

She doesn’t come right back, obviously.

Fucking obviously.

Hogwarts Student User Interface: Slytherin House 

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