little to hex her

I’m not dead part 2!
Just been busy again, and also switching between multiple things.  This being one of them, a simple fan art model of the Hex Maniac.  I was going to animate her, however I messed up the rig pretty hard and don’t feel like fixing it right now.  So here’s a simple turn about and some pictures with a Haunter.

anonymous asked:

Could you do an involve about what being a Weasley would involve?

  • You may not have much money, but you always have enough love and affection
  • You are ginger: very, very ginger
  • Family reunions are literally a sea of ginger 
  • Just so much ginger
  • Christmas jumpers every year!
  • Bill is the coolest older brother, and always has the best stories to tell when he comes home. 
  • Charlie’s in Romania most of the time, so you don’t see him as much as you want to. You know more about dragons than you need to, but dragons are awesome so you wouldn’t mind hearing more.
  • Percy isn’t as extroverted as a lot of your brothers, but he’s always willing to help you with your school work and keep an eye on you.
  • Fred and George pull the weirdest pranks on you, and end up giving you at least one irrational fear (See: Ron and spiders). You also get to do test runs of their prototype products and cause quite a bit of havoc doing so. You grow up avoiding their room and ignoring all of the loud explosions from it
  • Ron’s the person who best understands the pressure you feel to live up to your siblings. It helps the both of you to talk it out together, it’s how you alleviate the pressure a little. He’s happy to beat you at wizard chess whenever you want to play
  • Ginny’s your only sister. You’re torn between being protective of her, and a little scared of her hexing skills. She’s definitely your partner in crime if you ever need to get revenge on the twins.
  • You love all your siblings and wouldn’t trade them for all the galleons in the world, but sometimes they get on every single one of your nerves

Originally posted by andthatsthetheory


Summary: The Nightshade Witch of Ren, a name that brings fear. Harbinger of revenge and corrupt justice, he’s the number one target of The Church. You are an average young woman of the village, trying to escape your strict parents and The Church. Fate has it that your paths are intrinsically linked, to the disdain of well…everyone.

Kylo Ren was working on requests, when Armitage Hux entered his shop. He sold unspeakable things, magic that was widely used but left unacknowledged. He observed the man with narrowed eyes; watching as a sinister spirit seemed to swirl around him.

“Hux, what do you want?” This wasn’t his first time as a customer, Hux wasn’t afraid to abuse his wealth to attain power. He was quite well versed in the occult, to the misfortune of his enemies.

“I have a sea serpent’s scale and many moonberries, along with 50 golden coins. It’s more than necessary, but I have a feeling you won’t like what I‘m about to ask.” Hux lays his pay on the table for Kylo to examine.

“I need to know what you’re asking before I consider this.”

Hux pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “There’s this maiden,” He starts. Kylo raises his brows; he could tell already he wasn’t going to like this. “She is to be my betrothed, well supposed to be. Y/N L/N, I’ve been courting her for years.”

“Get to the point,” Kylo rolls his eyes.

Keep reading



Lucious: You filthy little mudblood!

Y/N: *whips out her wand and quickly hexes him*

Lucious: *hurries away, trying to hide his nose as yellowish goo squirts out from it*

Remus: *GIF* Yeah that’s right, you run along Malfoy

James: *GIF* Bloody hell Y/N, I didn’t know you were that fierce

Sirius: *GIF* Pfft I always knew she had it in her, she’s my girl after all *puts an arm around you and pulls you towards him, proud*

Y/N: *blushing* I guess I’ve picked up a few things from hanging out with you


8. How big is your MH collection? #Monster High Challange

I have 44 dolls, plus 17 minis and a vinyl Clawdeen. Help me stop!? (◔д◔) 

One of my favourites is my little goth bee! Her name is Beebie Honeycombs and her little pet is called Hexagon - nicknamed Hex or Queenie, alluding to its status within the bee colony.

Find my other dollies and fanart here!

anonymous asked:

In FE:A after Grima is defeated and all the awakening kids are born, how do you think their personalities would differ from the kids in the "bad future" timeline? (since their personalities were shaped from the war/ death of their parents)

Ooh, this is interesting. I haven’t read a lot of the characters’ supports with their unchanging parent for a while so I apologize if some details are off. 

Lucina: She’d be quite different. I very much see the best summation of Lucina’s personality as “child who grew up too fast.” Good timeline Lucina wouldn’t have this Lucina’s aloofness to the same degree (though she’s chrom’s child so maybe that’d still be there haha), and certainly would wear a smile around and be a lot more energetic/not serious. She’d still sort of have a hero-worship mentality around her dad though, haha. 

Owain: …I forget the canon explanation for his over-the-top hamminess. I think good-timeline owain would still have it, though, and I don’t think in the end his personality would be much different. He’d still want to be a legendary hero like his ancestors. 

Inigo: This depends on whether Olivia gives him the “talk to girls to get over your shyness” spark. If she did I think his personality would proceed similarly though he’d allow himself to be more vulnerable with people and allow his smile to drop if he’s not feeling happy, since people don’t rely on it the same way they did with bad timeline Inigo. If Olivia doesn’t give him this since she learned of it, he’d be very outwardly different, shy much like Olivia,  though I think his doofy core would be pretty much intact.

Brady: Oh he’d be even more of a Mama’s boy than bad timeline Brady is. It’s possible that since Maribelle has more time with him that she actually is able to iron out more of his, er, curtness. 

Kjelle: …Can’t see her being much different, she’s still Sully’s daughter and still gonna get ripped as hell for Severa to stare at. 

Severa: I think, after Cordelia’s exposure to bad timeline Severa, she’d be much more careful in how she raised her and the people/ideas she was exposed to. I think Severa would turn out with a much decreased set of insecurities and inferiority complex, and some of her tsundere-ness would probably be gone too. She’d allow people to see her genuinely happy, at least. She’d still be sweet and protective of Noire and people like her and I think she’d still get very shy at praise. 

Gerome: No more batman. He’d openly be his dorky, wyvern-loving self. 

Yarne: Well, he’d obviously be a bit less jittery and concerned about the last-of-his-species thing seeing as Ylisse is at peace, but it’s still something that’d cross his mind from time to time. Otherwise I think he’d be mostly unchanged.

Laurent: …I can see almost no possible differences. Maybe he’s a bit less emotionally distant. Though not likely considering his mom. Side Note I really like to HC that Laurent was super short, the shortest of the group whenever they traveled back but over the 5 years he spent in the good timeline before he’s found he sprouted up. 

Cynthia: Hmm… I seem to recall her harvest scramble convo with Severa saying that her hero stuff only started after Sumia’s death. So that’d probably be at least diminished, perhaps she’ll turn out just a bit more openly girlier. However she’d still be very excitable and clumsy and still want to be a pegasus knight like her moms and i think she’d still get along great with the Justice Cabal. 

Noire: Whew. This really all depends on Tharja. If bad timeline Noire’s support convo with and presence with her curbs a lot of her abusive tendencies, I think she’ll turn out fine. She’d still be a very sweet and timid kid but wouldn’t have the split personality. She might find her mother’s hexes and dark magic a little scary but nothing beyond that.  she’ll also fall in love with the good timeline severa who would have a very similar relationship to her as the bad timeline severa and noire do and itll be so cute

Nah: …Um. This is the character I know the least about unfortunately. She’d have less abandonment issues but I think overall she’d still largely act the same. 

Dating Hermione Granger Would Include...

Originally posted by lowkeygiges

- you first noticing her punching Malfoy, whilst wanting to do some enjoyment reading. 

- being very impressed. 

- paying more attention to the little things she does, like how she has at least 4 quills on the go at one time. 

- it taking a lot of encouragement from her best friends to finally ask you out.

- Ron and Harry both whooping when you guys made it official. 

- shy hand holding in between lessons. 

- helping her with S.P.E.W and even putting sticking spells on them so now half the school is stuck with a badge. 

- stolen kisses whenever she got the chance. 

Keep reading

kathorakiryu  asked:

29 or 32 :) I just started following you and am in love with you(r) blog, writing, person...

“could you possibly do 12 and 29 with drarry? maybe like they get into a fight but make up? thanks in advanced! “ - anon

“29 with drarry? :)” - anon

of course I can guys (though I don’t do the combination, sorry! I hope you don’t mind!! (and @kathorakiryu omg thank you?? somuch? love u too!)

my writing

prompt list

29 - “Are you going to hug me?”

Harry Potter was panicking.

Partly because Draco Malfoy was pointing his wand at him.

Partly because they were both drunk.

But mostly because at the moment, he wasn’t sure whether he was panicking because he was scared, or because he wasn’t.

“Draco,” Pansy slurred, trying to grab Malfoy by his sleeve but failing miserably. She instead punched him in the chest, and she giggled when he recoiled instantly. “Don’t hex him!”

Malfoy scooted a little further from her, as if that would protect him from any more physical harm she could do to him. “I wasn’t going to hex him.”

“Then what were you going to do?” Ron asked, not even having opened his eyes to see what was happening around them, his feet tapping the floor in the rhythm of the music.

Harry had forgotten if the music was muggle or magical. He’d forgotten who’d charmed the radio. Merlin, he had even forgotten who had suggested that all the Eight Years hung out in their shared common room the first weekend of getting back to school.

All he could think about was that Malfoy still hadn’t lowered his wand.

Hermione fidgeted in her seat, her head on Ron’s shoulder.

(It was probably Hermione who came up with this idea, Harry thought suddenly. Hermione and her stupid plans of trying to get them to get along.)

“I wasn’t going to hex him,” Malfoy repeated, though much softer this time. “I was just…”

“Being a total drama-queen and show-off with your new and fancy wand,” Pansy muttered under her breath, and a few people laughed.

Harry didn’t.

His head was still swimming.

(Could he already be drunk?)

(It had only been half an hour.)

And finally Malfoy pocketed his wand, his ears slightly red in all the attention he’d gotten. “I was just going to sober him up.”

“And why –“ Harry could even hear himself slur and trip over his own words, “- would you want to do that?”

“Because, Potter,” Malfoy snared, “You are, unlike some people here, a lightweight, with zero experience with alcohol. You’re going to pass out if you keep up this speed.”

Ron barked – it sounded vaguely like a laugh. “Wait – you’re actually concerned, Malfoy? Oh, this is rich, coming from you –“

If possible, Malfoy’s ears turned even redder. “Never you mind, Weasley.” He snapped, “I was just worried he was going to throw up on my clothes and ruin my hair.”

“Yeah,” Ron muttered, “’cuz that would be such a difference.”

“Sod off.”

You sod off, ferret.”

“Ronald!” Hermione exclaimed, a little too loudly, and Harry cringed away from her. “Don’t.”

Harry’s head began to bob, and his eyes fluttered.

Could he just sleep here? Without them noticing?

(Maybe he was drunk.)

“Oh, for the love of –”

Harry quickly opened his eyes, because someone was touching him, and it couldn’t be Hermione or Ron because this grip was cold and tight and – “Malfoy,” he groaned, trying not to pass out on him, “what are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re not going to pass out and hit your head on the floor, you idiotic ponce.”

Was Malfoy actually going to –

“Are… are you going to hug me?” Harry muttered, shaking his head as if that would get him out of this moment. Was he already sleeping? Was this a dream? “You don’t hug people.”

“Shut up, Potter.”

“Merlin,” Ron’s voice came again, slightly muffled – because Harry could quite possibly have buried his face inside Malfoy’s soft sweater. He was totally going to blame his drunkenness for his actions. “This is just plain weird.”

You’re weird,” Malfoy snapped, without any real malice, one hand creeping up behind Harry to ground him, and the other in his hair.

“Hermione, come and make out with me so I can wipe this image from my memory forever.”

“Ronald, honestly –“

“Are you coming over here or not?”

“Of course I am, don’t be daft.”

Harry snorted, the world spinning around him.

That must be the alcohol, he thought.

But, maybe.



The fact that Malfoy was so soft and nice smelling and warm, could, maybe.



Contribute to that spinning, too.

vorpalgirl  asked:

Do you know what the term "bruja" means in Mexican/Mex-American culture? I've seen conflicting sources claim it's an insult equivalent to "bitch" (but with literal translation of "witch"), vs saying it's just the term for a sorceress and that Catholic Mexicans "accept" at least folk magic type Witchcraft practices much more than many other Christian groups do? Can you clear this up at all for me, bc I have a Chicana who gains Magic in a Fantasy story & not sure if she'd call herself that or not.

Personal backstory time…

In the area I grew up there was one woman known as La Bruja, and the term was used with respect, even if it was touched with a little darkness (She was white, but had lived within the community for several years). In the cultural setting I was in it was not used as an insult, but keep in mind I was in America and the Mexican population was primarily older Mexican generations mixed with younger Mexican American generations, no one considered themselves Spanish really.

When you talk about folk magic, acceptance, and religion keep in mind that you’ll want to do research on the ethnic, racial, and class distinctions of Mexico and Mexican American populations. The Spanish did a lot to quash many folk practices because they were rooted in indigenous practices or cropped up as a means through which indigenous peoples adapted their beliefs and Spanish beliefs. This is likely where the dissonance in your research has cropped up.

Usually to mean bitch people just yelled “¡Puta!” at each other which is a particularly sexualized, or sexually suggestive form of bitch as it also can translate to whore, etc.

The women of the area (almost all being some flavor of Catholic) all visited La Bruja for a variety of things, and while they were polite to her to her face, many of them would tell us (the kids) to stay away from her, or otherwise “cleanse” themselves after their meeting with her. To emphasize her importance within the community, one year there was a string of robberies, specifically people getting their cars busted into for their car radios. La Bruja’s was stolen. When she made it known that she had become a victim of the theft, literally the next day, the radio had been returned with a little note apologizing and begging her not to hex them using the note. She taped that to her front window for the next few months until the paper was destroyed by the sun.

Mostly it depends strongly from community to community how they interact with the bruja in their midst, it also depends on why people think she’s a bruja in the first place and how she’s impacted the community. But to answer the question about your character, yes, it is entirely possible she would call herself that, but it is as likely that if she were known to practice witchcraft the community would grow to call her that, almost bestowing the title to her.


It Was a Fishy Kinda Day

Based on the imagine : Imagine Sam and Dean finding out a witch turned you into a mermaid when they find you sitting unhappily in the bathtub

Original Imagine Link: :)

Warnings: Some swearing, Guns described, Like really vague details and description of killing a witch. 

Word Count: 1405

I don’t like fish. Let’s make that abundantly clear right away. No, scratch that. I hate fish. I abhor them. They’re horrible and stinky and disgusting to eat, much less look at. Their horrible slimy scales and disturbing gills creep me out. So you can understand my complete and utter horror and being transformed into a giant, gross, literal embodiment of the thing I hate most. Okay, well, maybe not most, but it is pretty damn close.

If you’ve just stepped into this miserable shit pile I call my life, you’re probably feeling a little confused, so let me backtrack a little… A little over a week ago I decided I was sick of my best friend and hunting partner, Dean Winchester, being a sexist little shit and not letting me take the lead on any cases, so I decided to grow a pair and take initiative. Because that always ends fabulously for me.

So anyway, I woke up in the middle of the night, raided the gun stash in the back of his Impala, and hotwired the first car I came across, which just so happened to be a POS Dodge, naturally. Of course, at the time I was so wrapped up in the exhilarating feeling of badassery that accompanied stealing a car and heading out to save the world (Okay, maybe more like save Great Barrington, Massachusetts, but still) that I didn’t even care.

That was, of course, until it broke down 20 miles from the town, and I had to hitchhike to the motel with a duffle bag full of guns and knives. Any sane person probably would have taken this as a sign and returned home, tail between legs. But not me, oh no, the mighty (Y/N) doesn’t shy away from a challenge… Or apparently the ‘douchebag’ label that comes with referring to yourself in the third person.

By this point I had ignored 27 missed calls from Winchester one and about fifty frowny-face emoji’s from Winchester two, and concluded that the bad guy was, in fact, a bad girl. And a witch. She had made her blip on the radar by killing off all of her vegan Bible group pals in very strange, positively un-vegan ways, and left plenty of little hex bags in her wake.

So there I am, hiding outside of this mountainside chalet, half admiring the view, and half scoping out this wannabe hipster Sabrina-the-Middle-Aged-Psycho, when I found myself dangling upside down with all of my weapons but one sliding out of their holsters and loudly onto the ground. Because of course she had boobie traps outside of her house. Of course.

Because I flat out refused to die at the hands of a kale eating Jesus freak, I flexed my shoulders back, let my gun drop into my palm from its spot tucked into my bra strap and pointed it at the approaching figure in one fluent motion. I smirked at her before flicking the safety off and lining up the little red dot with her heart. “God is dead, and those cookies you were eating have cow’s milk in them,” I shot off before I, well, before I let a shot off.

But not, of course, before she could throw her own little ball of magic at me and dropping me from the trap in a spectacular show of flailing limbs, curse words and shiny lights. At the time I had lain there for ten minutes, feeling over my whole body and wondering if I was going to turn into a wart covered troll, or be unable to tell anything but the truth for the month. I should have been so lucky.

On my way home I tested both of those theories, firstly by asking an ugly dude to ask me to ask him what my opinion of him was (I lied flawlessly, thank you very much) and checking in the mirror of the new (commandeered) vehicle I was driving. It was about one in the morning when I pulled into a dusty motel three hours from the bunker and proceeded to squall in delight at the sight of the huge spa bath sitting in the bathroom.

And that, ladies and gents, is how I came to be in this predicament. One moment, I was peacefully soaking away the aches and pains associated with being dropped on my head from a tree branch in a mountain by a freaking witches spell, and the next, I had a tail. And gills! Freaking Gills!  

So now, I face a difficult decision. To call for help and never live it down, or to drown myself. Ha, just kidding, I can’t drown myself because I have goddam gills.  I looked up at the sky and shut my eyes, time to try option one. “Dear Cas? Um, so I know I’ve never actually prayed to you before, and you’re probably kind of busy right now, but I sort of have an, uh, situation, and I really need your help. Like urgently. Please. And don’t tell Dean! Or Sam! Or- Oh for God’s sake please just get your ass here,” I hissed out, trying desperately to keep my emotions in check.

After five minutes of slimy awkwardness in the now much smaller space of the tub, I decided to head on over to option two. Garth. As the new Bobby, I was certain he’d be able to rustle some semblance of something up to help me out of this situation. Thankfully, he was answering. “Garth Vader here, what can I do ya for (Y/N)?” he asked, I considered asking why he was awake at 1:30 in the morning, but decided I probably didn’t want to know, instead, I spilled every event from the last two days in one garbled rush and deflated with a sigh at the end.

“Well,” he quipped, “It looks like you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a-““-Don’t you dare Garth Fitzgerald! If you even think of saying ‘fishy situation’ right now, I will hurt you,” I hissed down the line, only to hear typical Garth giggles in return. “Aaalright Ariel, have it your way,” he said with an irritating amount of pep, “Let me just send the nearest hunters to your location, and I’ll hit the books and get back to you,” I considered telling him that if he called Dean or Sam I would personally rip out his intestines and wear them as a necklace, but he’d already hung up, so my bravado was cut short.

 Two and a half hours later I discovered that I probably should have called him back to deliver the warning. I was wallowing in my own filth and misery (literally), when I heard the lock being picked, and I picked my semi-automatic and pointed it at the bathroom door, just in time to catch none other than the Winchester brothers in the act of collapsing with laughter. Brilliant. Perfect. Bloody fucking awesome.

“Wow, Y/N,” Dean whistled, wiping an imaginary tear away from under his eye and straightening up from the ‘Holy-crap-I-can’t-breathe-I’m-laughing-so-hard’ position he had been standing in, and moving to kneel beside the bath and staring at your scaly, gross, pink tail. “You were right, you can handle things perfectly well on your own. Granted, of course, that whatever it is you’re trying to handle doesn’t require feet, or, you know, legs,” he snickered and Sam continued to gape in the doorway.

Instead of dignifying him with a response, I decided to be the bigger person. Ha, just kidding, I splashed the shit out of that son of a bitch with my tail. Which, naturally, began an all-out water fight war, that I (Again, of course) won.

The next three days were spent in a similar fashion, and in the end, it didn’t suck as badly as I had originally thought it would. I was a blur of me, my Metallica t-shirt, my tail, new bath tub water every three hours, Dean and Sam brining me food, jokes, and whatever TV show I demanded we watch.

Although, I can’t say I was terribly disappointed when Garth called with news on how to reverse the spell and make me a real girl again. We were headed out of the car park and towards the Impala when Dean turned to me with the ‘I’m about to make a terrible joke’ smirk on his face.

“So, who’s up for sushi?”

Apparently, some of you people are still not understanding Lily’s actions in SWM, so here we go:

“Leave him ALONE!”

Was her very first line in the chapter. The way the word “alone” was put makes undeniable that she is pretty angry, no discussion here. What we do not discuss enough is how brave she was by saying so. I once saw a post about how brave Snape was for making his way up the gryffindor tower to apologize to Lily, but what about her? She stood up for him when no one else did. She left her friends in the lake to defend him from her own housemates. She was a gryffindor, muggle-born girl and she didn’t let her slytherin, pure-blood supremacist friend be bullied.

“Leave him alone,” Lily repeated. She was looking at James with every sign of great dislike. “What’s he done to you?”

The bold is because there are people under the illusion that she was flirting with James. And this quote is here because there are people under the illusion that she didn’t care for Snape.

Many of the surrounding watchers laughed, Sirius and Wormtail included, but Lupin, still apparently intent on his book, didn’t, and neither did Lily. “You think you’re funny,” she said coldly. “But you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone.”

Again treating James with the dislike he deserves for being an absolute idiot. Again wanting nothing more than Snape’s safety.

“I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid,” said Lily.

Really, where the “she-was-flirting-with-James” shit came from? Honestly.

Lily, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though she was going to smile, said, “Let him down!”

Lily gets so much hate because of this quote, I can’t believe it. People keep on saying that she smiled. She didn’t. And even if she had done, it wouldn’t take away the fact that her expression was furious and that she immediatly told James to let Snape down.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily. “Ah, Evans, don’t make me hex you,” said James earnestly. “Take the curse off him, then!” James sighed deeply, then turned to Snape and muttered the countercurse.

Believe it or not, there are posts that claims that Lily didn’t do enough to help Snape. I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of Lily Evans taking her own wand out to defend him, which made James take the curse off in the first place. And I love this, because it means James didn’t doubt for a second that Lily was going to hex him.

“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!” Lily blinked. “Fine,” she said coolly. “I won’t bother in future. And I’d wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus.”

Here, in bold, we have the exact moment she realized Snape was just much of a jerk as she always thought James was and then she proceeds to treat them with equal dislike. People talk and talk about Snape being hurt when Lily almost laugh, and that this would be one of the factors that made him call her a slur, but I ask again: what about her? How hurt was she to get to the point to call him “Snivellus”? He was her best friend and the very person who told her that blood didn’t matter and still you guys want to blame her for ending their friendship? For standing up for herself? Is it really what she said to him more offensive than a slur in front of the whole school after she did nothing but help? 

“I don’t want you to make him apologize,” Lily shouted, rounding on James. “You’re as bad as he is… .”

What is this? Lily is rejecting James even tho she is not friends with Snape anymore? Is almost like… and stay with me now because this is shocking, but… is almost like Lily ending her firendship with Snape has nothing to do with James… at all… I know, right? Groundbreaking. 

“Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you’ve just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can — I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.” She turned on her heel and hurried away.

The only thing this quote proves is that Lily pays attention on James. So what? Repeat after me: it is not flirtation! Even tho she is done with Snape, she still despises James’ actions and made it clear.

And then there’s The Prince’s Tale:

“I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here.” “I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just – ” “Slipped out?” There was no pity in Lily’s voice. “It’s too late. I’ve made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you.

And the whole “Lily was just looking for an excuse to dump Snape because she wanted to be with the popular kids” theory goes to space (yeah, this is a thing people actual believe). And this headcanon is hilarious because she was the one trying to preserve their friendship by making excuses for him and he was the one hanging out with death eaters, obsessing over the marauders and not giving a damn about what she had to say on the matter.

You and your precious little Death Eater friends – you see, you don’t even deny it! You don’t even deny that’s what you’re all aiming to be! You can’t wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?” He opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking. “I can’t pretend anymore. You’ve chosen your way, I’ve chosen mine.” “No – listen, I didn’t mean – ” “ – to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?” He struggled on the verge of speech, but with a contemptuous look she turned and climbed back through the portrait hole.

Read that again and tell me she overreacted. Tell me she was wrong in cut him out of her life. Tell me you wouldn’t do the same.

Listen, Lily Evans wasn’t perfect. And it’s a shame that we don’t have enough canon to discover her flaws, but don’t change the actual canon we have just because you don’t like her. She did help Snape. She cared for him. She was not a “fucking Mary Sue”, as someone write in a post. She did not flirt with James and for the love of Odin, she was not “snob”.

You can defend Snape all you want, I’m through with that, but don’t you think that when you completely change canon facts about another character into doing so, something is wrong?

H. Grimaldi, 18-25, Witch (Black Magic)


TW: Violence, murder


  • When she was young, her mother died when a black magic ritual of her own creation failed. A lesser Tallis Coven member who owned a stall in the Frey sold her mother tainted goods necessary for the ritual when they suspected it was for black magic – thus resulting in her death. Her mother’s death is something that she firmly blames on the selfishness of the Tallis family and their affiliates.
  • Got satisfaction against school-yard bullies by learning to cast subtle hexes on them from the library while they recessed on the playground. Unfortunately, this lead to her having to switch elementary schools several times because her hexes became a little too high-profile.
  • Was born into the Ouroboros; it’s been a part of her life as long as she can remember. But until the death of her mother she lacked the drive and motivation that those who chose to be part of the Ouroboros all held on to. 


  • Had no qualms magically up sewing Devon Vale’s neck on the night they disposed of her body from the rafters of the Warehouse.
  • Aided her father in cursing the spear used to kill Dylan McIntyre.
  • She has always stood firm with the views of the Ouroboros, however, she can’t help but feel the deaths of many human and unaware innocents at the Halloween events were unnecessary.
  • Note: If your character chooses to disclose her involvement in Devon’s or Dylan’s death to any non-Ouroboros member, keep in mind the risks that the Vales or their allies may pose to your character as an in-character death is possible given what this information could ignite. 


  • Although she has had her hand in the death and misery of many, her involvement in said deaths was always from a removed standpoint. Though she hasn’t quite put two and two together, she fears the day where she must kill someone with her bare hands.  

+ Introspective, Motivated
- Short-tempered, Stubborn


  1. She does not want her participation in the Ouroboros as a Black Magic witch to be the only thing she is good for. It took her longer than she wanted it to, but this year she finally convinced her father to let her study at NYU for Architecture.

Occupation: Student

Residence: UTP

Affiliation: The Ouroboros

Suggested Faceclaims: Natalia Dyer, Poppy Drayton, Emma Watson, Elizabeth Olsen


“You see here, nobody gave you permission to date, Y/N,” James began, staring down the boy in front of the Marauders.

“If you hurt her, even a little bit, you’ll be hexed so bad your grandchildren will be able to feel it.”

“Not to mention the fact that we’re masters in pranking.”

“You won’t get away from our wrath, you’ve made us mad just for dating her.”


Amy Madison: A Dark Mirror and A Distant Echo

Amy Madison, as all of my followers must know by now, is a character I’m hugely enthusiastic about - I firmly believe she deserved more screen, she deserves more love in the fandom, et cetera, et cetera.

What I’’d like to talk about here, though, is something I’ve alluded to a few times when talking about Amy, and that is the way that Amy Madison serves as a Dark Mirror to Willow’s Storyline, and a Distant Echo of Faith’s.

Now, what the hell does that mean? 

Before I can go into that, I need to talk about the Buffyverse phenomenon of what I call ‘Reflective Trinities’. 

What I mean is this - we’re all familiar with the way that Kendra and Faith kind of represent opposite poles for Buffy’s storyline. This has been discussed many times in the fandom - Kendra is all duty, order, rules, restraint. Faith is all passion, desire, instinct, fury. Both end up in bad ends because of their unitary approach to Slaying - Faith’s passion and fury goes dark, and Kendra’s obedient and orderly nature makes her easy prey for Drusilla’s hypnotism.

Buffy is successful because she manages to walk a line between the two extremes, is the implicit narrative of this Reflective Trinity.

One that I haven’t seen any real discussion of, however, is the Reflective Trinity of Willow, Tara and Amy - one that is (to me) so self-evident, I’m sure I’m not the first person to make this point, even if I haven’t seen someone do it.

Willow, being the main character of the three, is at the heart of this Trinity - She’s a witch. Tara represents light magic, selflessness, balanced existence, and restraint on using magic. She’s always trying to get Willow to really respect magic, and not use too much of it, and she’s an incredibly selfless woman.

Amy, on the other hand, when you look at her whole character arc, represents dark magic, selishness, selfish use of magic, unrestrained application of power. What happens when you use magic you can’t control - and then keep using it anyway. Amy uses magic for her own gain, for sheer sake of it. She clearly knew of Rack even before she turned herself into a rat, which means she was probably taking hits of his ‘drug’ for some time before then. Amy didn’t have to turn out this way, but it is the way she went (and I may talk about this more some other time, though it is addressed in my fanfics The Spellbook and The Spellbook: Another Path)

So Willow has the two poles as well. Xander and Giles have Trinities of their own, though they’re slightly less well defined and established than Buffy’s and Willow’s.

Amy, as a character, uses magic. But from the start, she’s using it for her own ends, and using magic she can’t control - she’s messing with minds to get out of homework, she’s turning other people into rats, turning herself into a rat with no way back, and she’s doing all this before Willow can even levitate a pencil. She’s taking the path of quick and easy power, of overindulgence in magic. She introduces Willow to Rack, then tries to get Willow to relapse when she makes an effort to recover from magic, born out of resentment and a desire for revenge on Willow.

Even after she recovers from her addiction to Rack’s magic after his death, after Rock Bottom, Amy remains a petty, vindictive and kind of malevolent woman. She filled with resentment and envy towards Willow, and acts on it. Whether or not she meant for her little hex on Willow to go as far as it did, she used it without any regard for the consequenes.

Amy is, then, a Dark Mirror to Willow. She is what Willow could have been like if she’d started magic too early, and trained herself, unlike having some tutelage. She’s what Willow could have been like without someone like Tara to hold her in check, both in actuality and in spirit. She’s what Willow could have become without friends to help her when she hit Rock Bottom. She’s what Willow could have become if she’d decided she liked the neighborhood at Rock Bottom. She is Willow There But For the Grace of God - and Willow is her, There But For The Grace of God. The two characters are same basic start - witch - taking divergent paths. Willow made some bad choices, but for whatever reason, Amy made all the bad ones.

We don’t know why - there’s so much of her growth that we don’t see, we don’t get just why she’s so hateful and resentful and angry at Willow. We don’t know why she picked up magic or why she started using it so selfishly from the word go. We didn’t see it happen, we just see the result of it. But Amy’s storyline is deliberately, I think, a mirror held up to Willow’s. 

With Faith, Amy represents a Distant Echo. Both characters indulge and revel in their powers, and even when they’re using them constructively (such as Slaying vamps for Faith, Amy helping Willow cast a protective spell at the start of ‘Gingerbread’), you get the impression - and in Faith’s case, know, that it’s more about the thrill of their abilities, not the fact that they’re being used for good ends.

Both Amy and Faith get into trouble thanks to their indulgence in their abilities. Both go dark in the aftermath. Both are fueled by intense resentment of their counterpart in their Relective Trinity. (For some discussion of that, including relavent dialogue, see here: (X)  Both have to crawl their way up from Rock Bottom. 

But there’s a reason that Amy’s storyline is only an Echo, and not something more similar. When Faith hits Rock Bottom, she decides to try and committ suicide by Cop, taking the job to kill Angel, trying to get him angry by shooting him, hitting Cordelia, torturing Wesley, etc, because she wants him to kill her. When she begs him to kill her, she’s at the bottom-est Rock Bottom you’ve ever seen. But Angel is there. Instead of killing her, he helps her. As she says, he’s effectively her sponsor. He helps her up, helps her carry herself away from Rock Bottom and helps start her path to redemption.

Amy never gets that. She hit Rock Bottom sometime between her last appearance in Season 6 and her appearance in Season 7. She even says as much: “ Because you know that’s the crazy thing about hitting rock bottom, you get to relive all the crappy things you did.” She claims she had help from the others in the Wicca circle, but if she did, she didn’t have very good help - because she really didn’t have anyone there to help her.

So she’s not recovered. She’s no long an addict, it seems, she’s no longer an overdosing witch. But she’s come back from Rock Bottom even more angry and resentful than ever. Willow went full dark, tried to destroy the world, killed a man by ripping his skin off and she’s embraced by her friends. Amy does nothing anywhere near as bad, but there’s no one there. No dad, no friends, no anything. Combined with the resentment about Willow’s power, and the whole thing goes overboard for her. She lets that hate and resentment fuel her descent into the dark.

If there hadn’t been an Angel there, is Amy what Faith could have been? Or is she just the Distant Echo? She reaches the same point Faith was at - but with no one there to help her… She’s another one of those what could have been - but the what could have been is what Amy could have been. She could have been the magical equivalent of Faith. Instead, she’s just an echo, a sort of plaintive possibility. Amy’s storyline is an echo of Faith’s, a deliberate almost.

Amy’s character arc is a story of almosts, could’ve beens and what ifs. She exists to hold a mirror up to the story of Willow, and to remind us of Faith’s journey, and how hard it was. How others can falter on that road to redemption, when weight down by resentment, self-loathing, jealousy, hate. Maybe not 100% deliberately, on the part of the writers, but to a degree, it was deliberate, I think.

These parallells to Faith and to Willow are only half of the reason why I love Amy Madison so much and find her fascinating. I hope I’ve helped you appreciate the complexity of the character, who despite only having eight episodes (one of which she was in for all of three seconds), manages to have a very deep story arc. And at some point, I hope to explore the other half of why Amy is so very awesome here on my blog.

If you have any questions about Amy or this Meta, or clarification on some of the ideas discussed herein, or just want to share your own views on Amy, please, please feel free to come into my Askbox. It’s always open, and especially for things related to Amy. 

Haven’t We Had Enough?

By: @endgame-sterek and @nogitsunelichen

Beta’d by: @stiles-and-the-sourwolf and @cobrilee

Word Count: 3,104

Rating: T

Witches were in town and that had the entire pack holding a meeting at the loft to try and figure out what the next logical move was. Isaac, Scott, and Kira were jammed together on the couch with Malia lounging haphazardly on the chair nearby. Derek had been wandering back and forth in front of the coffee table, too hopped up on the nearness of the full moon to really sit and focus.

The odd man out happened to be Stiles, who had settled himself on the stairs by the door.

The hard rigid line of Stiles’ shoulders was painfully obvious, the hyper-vigilant expression he wore gave his anxiety away, yet the most concerning thing lay in his silence. His lips were pursed; the room lacked the usual sarcastic comments and breathless babbling. Amber eyes were dark with something between worry and fear only to be complemented by creased brows. The thing that put Derek off the most were the dark circles that remained stark on pale skin, as if it was a visible reminder of what kept Stiles up at night.

“…what do you think Derek?”

The call of his name pulled him out of the daze he’d settled in, his head whipping back to the coffee table.

“Huh?” he asked, trying to piece together the conversation he’d so obviously missed.

Malia gave him an irritated look. “About the hex bag plan Kira mentioned?”

Her words meant little to nothing to him, and definitely didn’t help him comprehend the question he was supposed to answer. When it became clear he lacked an answer, Scott sat back on the couch with an awkward arm around Kira; meanwhile, Isaac stood up with an exaggerated stretch before letting the book in his hands fall to the table.

The smack was loud and harsh in a way only a three hundred page book could produce. Stiles sprang to his feet and his heart hammered in his chest. Derek turned on his heel, gaze cast towards the sudden movement. The younger man’s hand was splayed across his chest as if to catch his breath even though he’d just been sitting seconds before.

Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Yet everybody choked on the tension.

“Uh…I-uh, I have to go cook dinner for my dad. Yeah, so I’m just gonna…,” Stiles trailed off, voice gravelly from disuse.

While everyone expected Scott or even Malia to speak up, it was Isaac who did. The beta walked over to Stiles, obviously not taking into account how jumpy the other teen was at the moment. And before anyone could comprehend the movement, Isaac’s hand clapped Stiles’ shoulder, a noise almost as loud as the book drop from earlier–

Stiles spun around, fist connecting hard with Isaac’s jaw. Derek could clearly hear the bones within Stiles’ hand as they creaked upon impact. An angry red blotch on Isaac’s porcelain skin had already begun to disappear seconds after the punch.

Scott’s face went slack, eyes wide in shock which Kira mimicked. Isaac, though not in any physical pain, tenderly cradled his jaw, while Malia cheered the violence on. Derek remained stoic, not wanting to add to the dramatics.

“I’m….sorry,” Stiles muttered, trembling from the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Nobody uttered a word as he turned to hightail it out of the loft. Even with the sound of him descending the stairs two at a time, the silence left over was deafening. Though Stiles was absent, the potent smell of his negative emotions lingered.

Those left in the loft traded quick glances, unable to process what had just happened. Minutes passed while the teens cleaned up the mess of books and papers, and collected their belongings before leaving Derek alone.

His throat was dry but he felt no motivation to fix it. Instead he found himself seated on the couch, its cushions still warm from the others. The only thing he could focus on was the lie he’d caught Stiles in, the slight uptick in his heart replaying on loop. There was no dinner for his dad; the Sheriff probably wasn’t even home. The thought of Stiles alone tugged at Derek, an empty shell of a man in an equally empty house. Then again, who was he to scrutinize when he did the exact same thing; it’s easy to shut out the world and keep everyone at arm’s length. He did the same when his family died, when Laura died; he took the easy way out and let anger be his anchor.

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"Are you two going out?"

James Potter was strolling along the corridors of Hogwarts during a free period. He had lots of homework, he knew that, but he sort of wanted to make sure the first years were okay. He remembered how new everything was and how easy it was to get lost and confused with those pesky moving stairs.

The halls were quite and would appear vacant at a glance. But James heard an excited whisper, his head shot around.

“Merlin’s pants, Bella! That’s James Potter! Head Boy and Marauder!”

The source of the whisper was coming from a small boy, who he assumed must’ve been a first year. He had unruly ginger hair and a massive grin stretched across his face.

He was whispering to the girl beside him, also a first year, James guessed. She had dark hair that she wore in a plait.

“Hullo there!” James called out, walking towards them. He decided to pretend he hadn’t heard them whispering about him.

“Hullo! You’re James Potter, aren’t you?” The boy asked, looking at James which huge admiration which made James feel very uncomfortable.

“Arnold!” The girl scolded. “Where are your manners?”

“Manners?” The boy said to the girl, a confused look across his face.

James snorted.

“I’m Isabella and this is my neighbour, Arnold.” The girl said.

“I’m James, lovely to meet you.” He replied, grinning.

“Oh we know who you are! Jonathan’s told us all about you!” Arnold said, bouncing excitedly.

“Jonathan’s my big brother.” Isabella explained. “He left Hogwarts last year.”

James remembered Jonathan, he had showed the marauders the one-eyed witch passage way and had always been a sort of older ally to the marauders.

He started at the pair in front of him. Of course this girl was Jonathan’s sister.

“All good things, I hope!” James laughed.

“Course. He told us you’d look out for us.” Arnold said.

“He also said you were a friend of his.” Isabella put in.

To this, James nodded.

“What house are you two in?” He asked them.

“I’m a Ravenclaw.” Isabella told him and James probably should’ve guessed, with the huge blue bow in her hair and the massive pile of books she carried.

“I’m a Gryffindor!” Arnold grinned and somehow James knew he would be.

“He’s a pest!” Isabella said rolling her eyes and glaring at Arnold. “He wants to prank everything that moves.”

James smiled at her. She was starting to remind him of a certain green-eyed witch with red hair.

“I was like that too. If you really want to do well, carry on the marauders legacy, I’ll tell you where all the hidden passage ways are. There’s one-”

But he was cut off, by the sound of tutting that was coming around the corner.

Isabella and Arnold looked frightened but James merely grinned.

“Evans! Come meet our my new friends!”

Arnold and Isabella looked particularly proud to be called ‘friends’ and they grew less frightened when they saw Lily.

“Filling their heads with none sense already? Do try not to lead them astray.” She rolled her eyes.

“Lily, this is Isabella. This is Arnold.” James said, taking care of introductions.

“Pleasure. I’m Lily Evans, Head Girl. If you’re having trouble with anything do come to me.” Lily said smiling.

“Woah. Head girl.” Isabella breathed.

James feigned offence. “Izzy, does my title of Head Boy not amaze you?”

Isabella laughed.

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The Washday Demon

My mother, dead now these past eighteen months – may God rest her soul – was a fanatically superstitious woman. Her ancestry, a combination of strict Catholicism and Irish folklore, had resulted in a potent blend which caused her to view life as a series of potential transgression (some valid, some merely fanciful) which might culminate in any one of a million unwanted outcomes should she step over some mystical line.
It was a matter of good fortune for me that my father, although a virtuous man, was totally lacking the imaginative capacity to believe very much in either religion or superstition. He would acquiesce to my mother’s demand that spilled salt be thrown over his shoulder where, she firmly assured us, it would hit the Devil square in the eye. Keys, errantly placed on the table, would be removed by him and the underside of ladders were always avoided. All these sanctions were borne well by him and he always played along with a look of mild amusement, total disbelief or loving indulgence, according to how whimsical mother’s demand might be. Never once did I hear him shout at her for the stupidity of her beliefs, nor did he ever refuse to play along. In time, I too learned to humour my mother and indulge her many whims. I walked a line between them and viewed the world of lore with a healthy scepticism and a pinch of open-mindedness.

Of all the stories my mother told me however, the one which scared me most as a child was the one about the Washday Demon. This was a potent morality warning, combining elements of superstition and retribution for wrongdoing. According to mother, if a housewife, or female homemaker (my mother had escaped the subtleties of women’s lib, but was nonetheless able to incorporate single women into her story) committed a black enough sin – such as shoddily darning her husband’s socks – she would be visited by the Washday Demon. This was a foul creature from the pits of Hell, who would pop up and visit the transgressing woman every washday, ensuring that her clean laundry would become inexplicably marked and soiled as it hung on the line. My father found this concept particularly hilarious – if the worst a woman had to deal with for her sins was a mucky-fingered pixie and some soiled linen, then the majority of womankind could happily sin away. Mother, however, always seemed to regard the concept of the Washday Demon with a little more gravity than any of her other bogeymen and hexes. I believe that it was this increased earnestness which made me particularly uncomfortable as a child.

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Sis had the best idea at dinner: when Ginny was a little girl, she used to practice writing by penning a letter to Harry Potter.

It could be about anything: her day, her brothers, the gnomes in the garden, the ghoul in the attic, what mum made for dinner that night, but she always signs it of by telling Harry how brave he was, and how wonderful, and how he was really great for defeating a dark lord.

Molly and Arthur thought it was absolutely adorable. Although they never actually sent the letters Ginny gave them, they did store them all in a box for safekeeping. After a while, Ginny stopped writing them, so the box got lost underneath various things until it was rediscovered and moved to the attic.

Over a decade later, after Ginny and Harry announced their engagement, George found it.

The look on Harry’s face when he read the first letter was incredible. The look Ginny had on her face when he realized what they were was terrifying. The sight of George being hexed by his little sister while her husband laughed hard enough to make himself cry was priceless.

personality wise draco and sirius have far more in common then either one of them would be comfortable with if confronted with that fact.

two flamboyant drama queens with a penchant for cruelty, egotistical to mask insecurity, and a fondness for not funny jokes told loudly in public. be realistic, the marauders gave each other so much shit people probably joked remus’s eyes were going to get stuck from constantly rolling them. draco’s posse hang out with him 24/7 developing sarcasm is a necessary defense mechanism for dealing with a 11 year old who genuinely believes he has a nemesis.

narcissa is a vital factor here. walburga seems to have been constantly awful so it makes sense for sirius to be deadset against following in any footsteps that would make him end up like her. draco had no context like that. if he didn’t love his family as much as he did he could literally be sirius 2.0 (in negative since their coloring is completely different).

imagine if draco had been sorted into ravenclaw instead and ended up friends with luna. these blonde waifs prancing through the halls of hogwarts. luna is this ball of oddly comforting light & optimism and draco is a sullen little shit who hates people so much and surreptitiously hexes everyone who insults her behind her back. sneaky slytherin stuff that can’t be traced back to him and that he’ll never tell her about because she wouldn’t approve of his methods but he’s the only one who’s allowed to call her loony, okay? obviously she knows it’s him, draco malfoy is not the king of subtle.

luna befriends harry who’s all ‘uh this little blond prick keeps insulting me and sneering’ and she says serenely, 'oh that’s how he shows affection’. draco is deeply offended by this because he insists that loathes harry with no ulterior motives and of course he has no fondness for him at all whatsoever. luna probably just raises her eyebrows and goes back to talking about nargles yet somehow leaves draco feeling like she won the conversation.

basically what i’m saying is there’s is ripe territory for a sitcom about the adventures of draco and luna as co-ravenclaws.