the girl who knew too much

Featuring → Lily Collins as Evelyn Brown

It is now the year 2011.

It’s been 13 years since the events of DH and the remaining Death Eaters are being rounded up. Kingsley Shacklebolt is Minister of Magic promising to reform the Ministry, but an anti-creature rhetoric is beginning to gain traction in wake of reforms making blood purity a thing of the past.

HOGWARTS MAGIC THE REVIVAL is a revival of the original Hogwarts Magic created by admin Snappers in 2005. We are an active Harry Potter roleplaying site with dozens of characters ready to plot with you, and an open-ended site plot that leaves plenty of room for all of your best ideas. We are rated PG-13 on site, but are open to 18+ content on discord. Accepted members get an invite to our discord upon request. We’re a casual RP site with no obligations to roleplay classes. You can earn your house points by creating new characters, threading with new people, and even through Quidditch if you choose to participate. This site is a place for you to RP to your heart’s content with a welcoming community of fellow HP fans. LGBTQ+ friendly.

The year is 2011.

Thirteen years have passed since the end of the war. The terror of Lord Voldemort has faded away like so many bad memories. Kingsley Shacklebolt inherited a Ministry with a historically low reputation. He made a promise as Minister of Magic to reform the government that had failed its people so dramatically before the war. With zero confidence from the people, this was no easy task. Though Voldemort’s followers had scattered, many continued to push his cause without leadership. But the Ministry managed to find some solid ground through a successful campaign to round up those remaining Death Eaters still waging their own wars. With newfound political strength, Shacklebolt pushed a series of reforms including civil protections for Muggle-born and half-blood witches and wizards, removing rhetoric of blood purity from centuries-worth of government documents, and advocating for more direct elections. But change, the reformers would learn, never comes without compromise. Concerned for their place in this new era, the remaining pureblood families approached reform with their own agendas. The status of magical creatures was once a priority in Shacklebolt’s new government, but it wasn’t difficult for anti-creature sentiment to prevail. Creatures weren’t interested in peace with humans, they argued, giants had sided with Voldemort during the war after all. So it came to pass that hidden quietly in the same legislation meant to protect the rights of thousands of magical citizens, the rights of magical creatures were being stripped away. A new definition for human threatens the status of werewolves and veela, and an expanding role for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures threatens the sovereignty of the magical world. These changes were not met without protest, but in a time of peace and unprecedented economic boom, most citizens of the magical world are happier to turn a blind eye from the persecution of magical creatures. There’s simply too much to be optimistic about. Opportunities are opening up to everyone as blood purity grows more irrelevant every day. Status has become a matter of economics, and though social classes bring their own problems, the magical world has never seen this much social mobility.

Iola lifted her hand, cupping his face. “But you’re not alone, Bryant,” A small smile crinkled her eyes that shined with tears. “You have me.” And without a second to rethink her decision, Iola leaned forward slowly. The tension between them was almost tangible. Her mouth opened slightly as she got closer to his face, pressing her lips to his. When the two of them first kissed, it was quick and rushed and scared Iola to death. But this kiss was different. It was pure. Her lips melted against his. Yes, Iola was scared, but it was a different kind of fear this time. The fear you get before jumping. Now, she made the leap, but still didn’t know the consequences of it. And I’m pretty sure she didn’t give a damn.

RECOVERY // SIDE A (listen) for when you need to get the sadness out

Get To Know Me Meme: [1/5 Female Characters]

↳ Buffy Anne Summers (Buffy The Vampire Slayer)

I’m beyond tired. I’m beyond scared. I’m standing on the mouth of hell, and it is gonna swallow me whole. And it’ll choke on me. We’re not ready? They’re not ready. They think we’re gonna wait for the end to come, like we always do. I’m done waiting. They want an apocalypse? 

okay so i’m finally doing this because i have put it off for too long now and it’s literally been weighing on my conscience. i’m modeling it after emma’s rec list, which is amazing, and you should definitely check out. also like i know the line between established and online poets can be kind of blurred but i’m gonna do my best. alright here we go.

ESTABLISHED POETS

richard siken: little beast, scheherazade, snow and dirty rain, litany in which certain things are crossed out, war of the foxes, landscape with a blur of conquerors, seaside improvisation, the language of the birds, saying your names

margaret atwood: helen of troy does counter dancing, quattrocento, the saints, they are hostile nations, the poet has come back

pablo neruda: sonnet xvii, sonnet xvi, the queen, ode to a cluster of violets, september 8th

jeanann verlee: finally i allow him the pen, polyamory, with knives, lessons on loving a prophet

jeannine hall gailey: the little mermaid has no regrets, she justifies running away, introduction to the body in fairy tales, the secret life of the forest, when the princess becomes the prophet, okay, ophelia

sylvia plath: lady lazarus, three women, the jailer, fever 103°, electra on azalea path

mary oliver: a settlement, wild geese, in blackwater woods

INTERNET POETS

azra.t (5000letters): take me to church, howl, prideful of lions, whale song, these wrists, these eyes, these praying hands, no grave can hold my body down

caitlyn siehl (alonesomes): a list of facts dressed up as a poem, start here, spectacular bodies, four in the morning, haunting, a prayer

ashe vernon (latenightcornerstone): backwash, profane, anatomy of a relapse, i didn’t speak at the funeral

madeleine christie (vespairs): letters to an insomniac, pandora absolved, the man of twists and turns, to be/not to be, the nature of living, girl/gone

a. davida jane (wefragilehumans): salt, non est, halfway into the lake, arbores, apollo 11, the house of pindar, a study in restoration

darshana suresh (afterthelonely): oblivion, overcrowded thoughts & overwhelming time, the love story, growth

emma bosacki (agooduniverse/daedalians): lunar observation, when my mother tells me that my grandmother finally knows, creature map, the times where i want to touch you but do not touch you, easy terror or love that sounds the same, schism, split, a hillside, a schoolyard at dusk, eurydice speech

clementine von radics (clementinevonradics): kim kardashian redux, for teenage girls with wild ambition and trembling hearts, all that’s left to tell

POEMS

bob hicok, other lives and dimensions and finally a love poem

danez smith, tonight in oakland

catie rosemurgy, peach

kirsten uhde, for her

michael ondaatje, the cinnamon peeler

blythe baird, theories about the universe

yasmin belkhyr, fishtails by the sycamore tree

frank o’hara, mediations in an emergency

ocean vuong, torso of air

warsan shire, and were you being good to yourself?

marty mcconnell, zoo

t.s. eliot, the love song of j. alfred prufrock 

suji kwock kim, monologue for an onion

jorge luis borges, two labyrinths

ilse bendorf, catch a body

shinji moon, i love you

when i was 5 years old my best friend was a boy named kyle who didn’t know how to knock on doors so he made dinosaur noises outside my window to wake me up in the summer until i demonstrated how to ball his fists and slam them against my doors.  we collected caterpillars in my trailer park and built them houses while we traded pokemon cards.  he wasn’t the only one.  there was ben, and mitch, and noah—but kyle’s the only one who hurt me, because when he tried to kiss me and i asked him why, he told me “because you’re a girl and i’m a boy, shouldn’t we like each other?”

i missed him so much and i wondered why he couldn’t just be my friend like he always was

in the first grade there was rich and joseph and i got sent to detention with them almost every day with a smile on my face.  we built block towers and sang to my teacher’s lion king soundtracks when she’d turn the lights off during lunch time.  one day they got in a fist fight over me at recess, and i wondered why they felt they needed to share my friendship, like it was something they owned.

in the second grade zach and i played yu gi oh under our desks during free time and i got moved for talking to him constantly.  everyone in the class would tease him and i for talking, asking when we were going to date already, asking him if he’d kissed me, and he stopped being my friend.

when i was 11 i met a chubby boy with the name of a colour who wore puffy vests and unwashed t-shirts, with greasy hair and bright blue eyes and a smile that hid hurt behind it.  people didn’t like him because he was silly, but i liked him, because i was also silly.  he became my friend the day he bought me 5 giant roses and asked me to be his girlfriend, and i politely declined but promised him i’d be his best friend because i’d always wanted a best guy friend that stuck around. we burnt our feet on the concrete during the summer and walked home with the sunset silhouetting us.  he talked often about how he loved me, but never blamed me for being me, even though he refused to move on. that boy dyed his hair jet black and sat on the end of my bed playing songs to me on guitar, and all that pent up rage from before didn’t show until the first time he slapped me across the face and called me a dumb cunt.

in the 7th grade there was a boy named ryan who sat next to me on the bus and talked to me about manga.  he’d ask me personal invasive questions but i didn’t mind because it was attention and i liked attention.  i was dating another guitarist with curly brown hair, one who was much more kind-tempered than the other, and ryan mentioned how much of an asshole he was every day.  i wondered, why, why does he think the love of my life is an asshole?  but whenever i asked him, he just told me, “girls only date assholes.  there’s no room for nice guys like me.”

i wondered, if he was so nice, why did he say such mean things?

he never stopped with me, taking me to movies, hanging out with me, you know.  being friendly.  i thought we were friends.  but then, how many times had i thought that before?

how many times had i bonded with a boy, thought they got me, only for them to ask me if i wanted to make out?

how come when i told ryan i was coming out as a lesbian, he stopped being my friend, and said “damnit, the one girl i really want to pound into a mattress, and she’s only interested in chicks!”

there was a boy my junior year who stayed up all night with me until the sun rose, talking about life, past loves, hopes, dreams.  beneath a million twinkling stars spanning forever, he brushed long brown hair out of his eyes and listened to me talk about the history that made me. then he asked me if i’d ever consider dating a guy, and complained about how he’d never get laid.

when i told him no a couple hundred times, he found new girls to listen to.

i would sit on the couch and play zelda with dakota, and he’d talk about all my favourite games with me.  he was the closest thing to support i had, and the letters and poems he wrote me were always so kind and friendly.  but he’d put his arms around me on the couch, and no matter how many times i told him i was uncomfortable, he’d still come over every day and do it.

“don’t you know how it feels to love someone and not have them love you back?  don’t you know what it feels like to be friendzoned?”

when i meet guys who talk about the friendzone, who talk about the girls who don’t give “nice guys” like them i chance, i always want to just say

when i was 10 years old i met a girl whose brown hair fell across her shoulders and whos eyes sparkled when the sunlight hit them, whose voice was like velvet and whose scent was like mountain smoke, who made me dizzier than a fly climbing a sugar hill.  and i’m 18 years old, and i still love her, and she knows, and she doesn’t love me.

but my first thoughts upon hearing her rejection were not “what a bitch,” were not “she just wants a douchebag and not a nice girl like me!” were not “im going to keep pushing her until she dates me,”

they were

“she is the best friend i have ever had, and i am the best she’s ever had, and i would hate to take that away from her.”

so before you play the victim, mr. Nice Guy, before you angrily throw your fedora on the ground and blame the girl you claim to adore so much:

put yourself in the shoes of a girl who thought she made a wonderful friend, only to find out that he just wanted her for sex.  that he just wanted her for a relationship.  a girl who was just an object to win, a prize.  a girl who’s trust you’ve just shattered.

literature meme ∙ [5/8] poetry ∙ for women who are ‘difficult’ to love (warsan shire)

and you tried to change didn’t you? closed your mouth more tried to be softer prettier less volatile, less awake but even when sleeping you could feel him travelling away from you in his dreams.

i’m the wonderess

i’m the one night stand

don’t belong to no city, don’t belong to no man

i’m the violence in the pouring rain