homework undone

thyevilqueen-blog  asked:

I am in love with your "boy with a scar" series. Thanks so much for sharing your writings! I have commented on Ao3 as well, but I was wondering if you'd take a fic prompt? I am very curious what you think would've happened if harry never requested to be placed in gryffindor, so the sorting hat placed him in slytherin.

Yes! Let’s say Hagrid got Harry a sundae and Harry, awestruck, lingered over it–- they were late to Madame Malkin’s, passing Draco on his way out.

Let’s say Harry got a little earlier to the station and didn’t meet the Weasleys there. A big blond Hufflepuff with broad shoulders and a bright future showed him how to get through the platform wall–- Cedric Diggory was on route for being a prefect, and things like this were why.

Because what if Harry had gotten his House opinions from the song, instead of age-old conflict? Slytherin, where you’ll make real friends. And this boy with nothing, this boy who latched onto the first kindnesses he’d ever seen, he thought yes that is what I want.

Slytherins–- this is a group who laughs when Neville falls off a broom and breaks his wrist. And what if we had Harry there, who had always been the one laughed at, who had a nice thirst to prove himself, who had green trim on his robes instead of red? This Harry still stepped out in front of Malfoy’s best sneer and demanded Neville’s Rememberall back–- though he got a detention from it, not a Seekership.

When kids in the Slytherin Common Room tossed jeers at the pudgy feet of Millicent Bulstrode, Harry rose up to do something about it. This Harry, now one of Snape’s own, got fewer House points lost but many more detentions– it had never been the colors on his hem that Severus hated.

He got more bruises. Harry had barely even learned Wingardium Leviosa, but he was little, years of bullying under his skin, and he knew how to get up in people’s faces, snap out insults, and kick their shins when it got bad.

This was not wishing Harry an easy path. This was not wishing the boy a warm House. This was Harry, three weeks in, sleep deprived and considering running away and going back to Privet Drive. This was Harry in the back of Potions class, blank-faced under Snape’s disdain the way he’d perfected under the Dursleys’s torments.

Slytherin was the house of cunning, of ambition–- but if you know better, the Hat will let you ask for something else. If you know better–- so Slytherin’s dungeon was filled with the kids who thought blood purist sounded like home, with the children who didn’t know better–-with children. The dungeon was filled with children.

When Quirrell shouted “troll in the dungeons, thought you ought to know,” and Harry overheard that there was a girl in the bathroom crying, he still ran off to make sure she got out okay. He hesitated first, at the back of the little pack of Slytherin first years (at the back so that no one could get behind him)– he hesitated. And Millicent Bulstrode, who could never quite keep her tummy tucked in enough, could never brush all the cat hair off her robes, never quite keep her temper in check, hesitated, too.

Harry did not ask Millicent to come with him; this was not a boy who asked for things. When he had asked for things, Dudley had laughed, Petunia had scowled, and Vernon had said, “no,” or just kept reading the newspaper like he hadn’t heard anything at all. But when Harry went, Millicent bunched up her robes in her hands and followed.

A troll got a wand up his nose. When Harry shouted for help, for the first time someone answered him. When Hermione picked her way out of the rubble, she stared at them–- the grinning messy-haired boy and the scowling fat girl who was stubbornly considering either smiling back or kicking a bit of dirty water onto the reckless little hellion’s robes.

Hermione stared–- the green on their robes. She was eleven years old. The kids at her old Muggle school had called her ugly, know-it-all, pest–- but here she had already been called Mudblood by upper years twice her size, in green-trimmed robes just like these. It rang differently, that word, than smartypants ever had. It was hissed, and it echoed out and further out, past the school yards and high castle walls.

But Harry stumbled over a troll’s ankles and through hissing streams of water from broken pipes to make sure she was okay, hands dirty, wand disgustingly snotted, his hair its normal silly mess. Millicent refused to wade any deeper through the gathering pools of cold water, but when Hermione opened her mouth to lie about hunting down the mountain troll Millicent snorted and cut her off.

McGonagall stared at the streaming pipes, Potter’s snotty wand, a Slytherin girl stopping a Gryffindor from lying to protect her–- she gave a small pinched sigh, a headache pounding in her ears that was as deep and throbbing as the one she’d gotten the first time she realized what trouble those Weasley twins were going to be. She didn’t take or give any House points, just sent them off to their respective dormitories and then went to make herself a hot cup of tea with lemon.

Hermione reached out best through books sometimes–- she snuck out of her dormitory one night, breath held tight, chin held high, and tiptoed into the Restricted Section. She owed a debt, and that was more important than even rules, even expulsion.

She read late into the night, quiet, and napped rebelliously through History of Magic (she had made her own eight-volume replacement history course with Madame Pince’s help).

When Hermione thought she knew what she needed, she stole all of Harry’s lunch hours for a week and taught him how to cast lasting shield spells that wouldn’t cave even to the top of the seventh year’s class, even in a House known for its fondness for curses. When Harry finally mastered her shield spells and a pretty handful of boobytrap jinxes, he put them up around his four poster and slept easily for the first time since he’d arrived at Hogwarts.

Slytherin was the house where you’ll make true friends. The next time Harry went after one of his housemates, who was bullying a Ravenclaw in the back aisles of the Library, Millicent dragged him up to Madame Pomfrey after, made his excuses for him, and finished up the last of his Potions essay so Snape would have nothing to tut about. When a Death Eaters’ daughter sent a curse at the back of Harry’s head, Hermione muttered the Anti-Jinx under her breath from across the Great Hall. When Millicent went home for Christmas, Harry fed her cat every morning and evening and praised every power he knew for the existence of magical catboxes.

Keep reading

Was tagged a while back by @zompire-plutopian, thanks again! (sorry for not answering these sooner tho) ⭐️

5 things you’ll find in my bag :
-my three (3) sketchbooks, some messy doodles and my pencil case
-iPhone/charger/earphones
-“Les Fleurs du Mal”
-my crystals
-some food probably (im a taurus, right)

5 things you’ll find in my bedroom :
-sketchbooks and pencils
-books
-crystals
-my sister’s toys
-some undone homework

5 things I’ve always wanted to do :
-get a cat!
-get a dog!
-live in London!
-dedicate my life to art!
-get muscles!

5 things I’m currently into :
-Gorillaz
-Pokémon
-Cartoons (Over the Garden Wall and Gravity Falls especially!)
-Aquarelle
-French poetry

5 things on my to-do list :
-watch Rick and Morty
-do my fucking french work
-investigate about my professional orientation
-hang out more with friends
-spend more time on homework

5 things you may not know about me :
-I wear contact lenses
-I’m rather short (5'4 i believe?)
-the only full sentence I know in German is “Ich bin die Pudelmütze”, don’t question it
-I’ve skipped a class so I’m (almost) always the youngest student in my class
-my whatsapp wallpaper is that one picture of the nicolas cage texture on minecraft

I tag: @1001141029hey @kindlovehappypeace @noodlerdoodler @hikikomori-boy @vanillatumbleweedscoffee @douadouard100
Good luck y'all! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

god
how good of you to have made me in your image
how grateful i am that, thanks to you, i have
eyes to see
ears to hear
a mind to think
a heart to love 

god
i am struggling
my homework is undone
my past assignments pile up
my future commitments lay stretched out
ahead of me
forming a line unbroken until they disappear in the distance of the future
i am tired.

god
thank you for sustaining me until this day
thank you for helping me to complete the work i have so far
but i am cranky. annoyed. frustrated. disappointed.
i want better from myself, better for myself
i want to have already finished my assignments.

god
instead of feeling poorly about myself
about my actions
my abilities
i will instead think of you
how you, perfectly incomprehensible
completely beyond me yet
ever-near
ever-here
ever-hearing
and how my heart’s complaints are not a secret to you.

god
with a lighter heart
i will return to my homework.
my thoughts still sluggish, my fingers still heavy
but my emotions lifted
up for you.

baruch atah adonai, eloheinu melech ha’olam, sh’hecheyanu, v’kiyamanu, v’higianu lazman hazeh.

Imagine that your icon sweeps you away on a magical quest that they are really excited about. However, you want nothing to do with this magical quest. You don’t understand why your icon is dragging you along on this wild goose chase, and you have told them this multiple times. They won’t listen. They won’t take no for an answer. Your homework is left undone. You haven’t shown up to work in days. All because your stupid icon dragged you along on this thing. They drag this thing out for months, talking to dragons, collecting stones that turn out to be cursed, and cracking ancient codes, all the while forcing you to do the same.
Months later, the whole thing is finally over. You can return home. Unfortunately, there is no home to return to. While you were in the world of potions and dragons and witches, you were not able to keep up on your house payments. You are broke. You have no home.
Your icon finds another magical quest. You kill them with their own car keys. One of the cursed magical stones touches you. You are caught. Prison is not fun.

all i’ve got // courtney&austin

Austin knew he didn’t want to be alone. He’d been alone all day, he felt, even at set where he had friends around him. But the thought of explaining it to someone that didn’t know Kelsey, didn’t know them, seemed impossible. And the thought of going to school tomorrow so much more so. So he called Courtney. She was all he had left, really.

He’d been hanging out watching Vi since he’d gotten home. It gave him something worthwhile to do, even while his homework was sitting undone in his room upstairs. But when Courtney had said she’d come over, he dragged himself downstairs to wait for her. He was glad his dad had assignments to grade. Otherwise, he’d have to deal with him, too.

erurilicious  asked:

♥ for Erwin and Levi individually, ∇ for eruri :)

So, I’m got a ton of headcannon’s in regards to Levi, Erwin and Eruri collectively.  I took this as ‘raising a family’ versus their own family dynamic… I hope that’s okay.


Levi - I fully believe that Levi would be an avid supporter of ‘learn by play’.  He’d take an active part in teaching the tot’s life lessons through roleplay.  He can play ‘House’ like it’s no ones business. 
He reads before bedtime, as many times as it takes to put all three to bed.
He let’s them help cook dinner, and encourages them to taste things as they go.  Arts and crafts are huge, but typically takes place outside (where they can be hosed down after finger paint turned war paint).
He’s a rule maker, but Erwin has the rule enforcer voice.
He’s the ‘I’m not mad, I’m dissapointed’ father. 
He’s the one that sits with a sick baby for hours, and frets all night when they’re asleep (and he’s not).

Erwin - He’s the ‘hands on’.  Sports, wrestling, tickling, painting, cleaning, working around the house.  There are children at his heels, and he’s describing the process of an oil change.  Even if they don’t understand, he captivates them anyhow (big hand gestures, expressive voice).
He’s the silly one; dances with them.  Plays hide and seek, and dies a dramatic cowboy death in a rowdy game of Shoot Em Up Cowboy.
He’s the deep voice when you know you’re in trouble.  He’s the stern gaze when you wish you could hide under the bed.
He’s always there to tuck them in, and is the first up when there’s a nightmare.  He logically explains away any ‘creatures’ lurking in the closet, and insists that he’s the scariest one in the house.  He explains that nothing that wasn’t there in the light will be there in the dark.
He’s ‘ask your father’, just to make Levi mad.  
He’s the ‘sneak a chocolate chip while making pancakes when Levi isn’t looking’.  
He’s the best tutor you could ever hope to have, and not a single piece of homework goes undone.
______________

I stuck to toddler age in this one, but I could go on and on and on.  I’m sorry there isn’t any Erwin art in this one either.  Time has been sparse and my mood has been real, real low.  This is what I came up with initially.  I’ll post more as they come up.  Thanks for the ask hottitandate <3