wingedtimemachinesoul

Latest Posts by wingedtimemachinesoul

one thing that will get me back to tumblr is a doomed pairing that makes me go insane and takes over my life and i need every ounce and crumb of content for them

THE WAY THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER!!!

I just finished episode 6 of season 2. I’m already in shambles, I know this show will break me and I am so excited for it

A fic set in the aftermath of 02x08 where Janet tries to reintegrate back into the ghost gang after everything that happened and how it’s not all rainbows and sunshine and easy because people are messy is calling my name

I think it’s still weird that Janet and Mr. Martin slow danced on her very last day with the other ghosts. And it’s also weird that Mr. Martin said his watch belongs to her, that it’s a symbol.

Rip Janet Hamilton, you would’ve loved debit cards instead of losing backpacks of cash in grocery stores

Doing a season 2 rewatch for the first time since the season ended. Do we know who came to the Hamilton Grandmother’s house when Janet was squatting there and why Janet burned the house down?

me, a rational enjoyer of narrative and media: i really love the interplay between adolescence and loss on school spirits, how growing out of your adolescence can feel like a death of sorts but it’s not really death, it’s simply change, something emphasized by the presence of the teenage ghosts forever haunting their high school until they can properly address their trauma and grow in order to crossover, the last change afforded to them.

my lizard brain: but why can’t we just bring the dead children back to life 😭

btw if you guys want a season 3 for school spirits, you should support the show as much as possible!! it's currently on paramount+ and will eventually be on netflix (idk when they'll announce that release date though).

you can also support the show just by talking about it and following the show's social medias, since an active audience is a very important factor to execs choosing if a series is continued or not. KEEP. TALKING. ABOUT. THE. SHOW. LET EVERYONE KNOW HOW MUCH YOU ENJOY IT.

Mr Martin is such a well written narcissist I'm in awe over the writers. Literally the initial portrayal of him being someone safe that everyone trusts, to someone super intimidating who seemed smarter than he actually was, to the desperate blubbering child of a man stamping his foot because he couldn't get his way any more. Janet being able to stand up to him was so cathartic for me. Oh how I loathe him, but he is such a well written antagonist.

why isn't anyone talking about how selfless wally clark was when he had to say goodbye to his love not once but twice and it shattered his heart but he hugged her and let her go AND THEN when she later stood frozen and uncertain whether to chase after her life what did he tell her even though it would mean she would be sprinting away from him forever? even though he told her he couldn't imagine crossing over to be better than being with her and he meant it??

he said "go, maddie."

and she went.

anyway, they're going to break down the barriers of the ghost world and maddie is going to travel the world with her ghost husband wally

Here to report that My Lady Jane is just…the best kind of fanfiction that you could make into a TV show.

It’s a shifter AU, arranged marriage, friends-to-lovers, 100K slow burn, canon major character death fix-it fic but with a big budget and a soundtrack and excellent costumes where everyone committed to the bit.

I do recommend.

“We’ve talked about this a little bit in a way that I think for us, what we wanted to do was really earn it. I feel like it’s so easy to see online, oh, people ship these people. Let’s just give the people what they want. But I think that we always intended for this to be that kind of relationship where you don’t know how it’s going to work out. You don’t know if it can be a forever thing, but you can’t deny that these people have connected in a real big way. I think that character wise, one of Maddie’s biggest challenges is being able to be vulnerable and intimate with people, because she’s been hurt so badly in her life. So we wanted to show that Wally was there for her. He took his time with her, he listened to her. He wasn’t just trying to be this Casanova who was going to come save the day. He saw her, and he let her know, you’re safe here. And she felt safe. So we wanted to build that up over time. These two people both opened up to each other. Both were in a place where they’ve earned that from one another, and they were in a true mutual love. You know they truly care and so it felt good for us too. It was this beautiful moment of being able to say, I see you, I care about you, and you’re safe with me and I think that it was a special moment for us as writers too.”

—Megan Trinrud (executive producer) on wally & maddie

i’m reading interviews from the executive producers and they’re saying wally telling maddie he wants her to stay in ep 7 is a breakthrough for wally because it’s the first time he’s realizing what he wants and sharing it with somebody instead of going along with what everyone else thinks 😭

Wally Clark being an absolutely wreck in the background the entire episode?

Yeah, that broke me

Wally silently crying to himself in the background while Maddie said her goodbyes to Rhonda and Charley will forever haunt me.

Just in case you’d like a lil bit of a headcanon for why they didn’t even SPEAK during this beautiful and heartbreaking scene, here’s a lil oneshot

SCHOOL SPIRITS — 2.08 "Fire, Talk to Me"

something something everyone helping each other through their scars something something you dont have to face your traumas alone your friends love you and want to help something something wally clocking mr manfredo rhonda repeating to wally that none of it was real charley picking up the deathplay football when wally couldn't keep a grip on it all of them staring down the table full of charleys and not letting him near the vending machine alone

something something I can't carry it for you but I can carry you.

It Was Always Worth It

Wally Clark had never felt such conviction or anguish in all his life or death than when he uttered, wholly broken and entirely sure, “Go.”

Tears ran boldly down his face, and his still chest shuddered painfully.  

Maddie Nears, the love of his afterlife, had set her blue eyes on him and there were no words between them.

SEASON 2 SPOILERS!!!!

My take on the finale and why the main couple didn't even SPEAK during their goodbye. This is my first ever lil one shot and my duty in participating in this growing fandom and contributing to the small amount of fanfic <3 Please check it out here!!

SCHOOL SPIRITS (2023-) S02E07―Anatomy of a Fallout Shelter

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61946362/chapters/162765895

George Weasley, house plant enthusiast! Percy Weasley, pottery newbie! Sweden’s magical district! So fun so fun, here’s ch 6 🫶🏻

Harry James Potter Character Analysis

I want to reorganize my pinned post a little, so this is one of the masterposts I'll be posting to link at the top of my blog and continuously edit.

General HJP:

Should Harry have been in Slytherin?

Harry was never really Dumbledore's man

Harry can be scary when he wants to

Harry is willing to kill when he deems it necessary

How much Harry trusts Sirius

DH reread: Harry, Home, and Godric's Hollow

DH reread: Harry, his wand, and the connection to Voldemort (More of this)

Harry: fight or flight? Both

Harry, his trauma and PTSD

Harry and what it means to be good (and a little addition)

Harry & Grief

More Harry & Neville & being a true Gryffindor

How Harry comes across to other characters

Harry can be charismatic, there's a reason others flock to him as a leader

Harry's Anger

Harry's an introvert

Harry's sleep habits (they're not great)

Harry's really smart:

Harry is actually really clever

Harry failing himself by overthinking

Harry as a Student

Harry's Intuition

Harry's magic:

Harry Potter is Really Magically Powerful

Harry's unique outlook on magic (more of that)

How Harry feels the Killing Curse

Who's the strongest Death Eater Harry could defeat in a duel?

Harry & Occlumency

Harry is capable of Wandless magic

Harry's Appearance:

Harry's height situation

Harry's facial features

Harry's height situation: the sequel

Harry's Scars

Harry's Abuse:

Harry & his abuse

How bad were the Durleys actually?

More details & headcanons about Harry's life at the Dursleys

Harry's Romantic Misadventures:

Harry Potter is Probably Gay and Here's Why

Why I don't think Harry actually likes Ginny

What was going on with Cho Chang

Harry & Realising He's Gay

My recipe for shipping Harry with characters

HJP Headcanons:

Harry James Potter Headcanons

What would Harry's Animagus form be?

Harry & Neurodivergence

Why I think Harry could've and should've been a professor

love the way these three sit

THEY ALL DESERVED BETTER

Harry doesn't have a 'saving people thing' or 'a love for playing the hero', he's seen death so many times at such a young age and doesn't trust the adults around him to the point where he feels the need to risk his own life to save someone else's.

George x Hermione just makes sense to me i love them so much

“Time is sentient, George, and it does not stand with being manipulated.”

The Essence of Time ch 1 ✨

George Weasley has always loved the color gold. It was half his Hogwarts house. It was also something his Weasley house never had within its four walls. It was earned, through blood, sweat, and tears of his own merit in his joke shop— school drop-out notwithstanding. Gold, from its hue to its shine to its value, is beautiful. Not in a greedy way, just an unattainable beauty that always seemed to walk beside him, companionably. Something he could admire, and then partake in, while having both nostalgia and longing all at once.

Gold interested him, it always did. Now, in the After it taunts him. In his dreams, in his memories, in every bleeding moment of his existence. Even in the Before, when he was a shell of a man, merely clinging to his firewhiskey and living on despite all desires, gold did not bother him as such. Nothing bothered him, he didn’t have a care in the world. In the Before, he was a pair without his match. Left in a limbo of sorts, one foot in the world and one foot in the beyond, following after Fred. Each day was a test— or at least it felt like one. What decision would he make today: stay or leave? It was a cruel choice, and many that he doesn’t quite remember making consciously. Most he probably did not, if he was being honest with himself.

The first of April 1999 brought it all to a head, and dragged George Weasley kicking and screaming by his remaining ear. That was the last night he had to make that particular choice, and if his current circumstances are of any indication, he definitely had no clue what was waiting for him on the other side.

George’s first birthday without his twin sent him tumbling into the arms of the bottle. Following that, he stumbled down the narrow stairs which led to the back of his shop, aggravated and searching for his wand.

The spell wouldn’t work, when he whispered or when he shouted. It just wouldn’t. He slammed the offending wood against his wrist over and over— wild sparks ricocheting off the shelves. Explosions and liquids and fireworks and bubbles filled the air, crowding the space and overwhelming his senses. He screamed until his voice caught in his throat, until all he had left was soundless sobs, that rocked his body against the floor. It was pointless— his wand refused to harm its master. To break the allegiance it so cherished.

He chucked the black walnut against the wall, sending gold sparks flashing through the dark workroom. Pointless. Utterly pointless. George let out a hoarse moan, the choice floating above him, mocking him.

I tried! He roared to no one. To the great beyond, he really didn’t know. It was the Before, it’s all a blur to him now.

But did he, really?

The shop creaked at times. Whether the age, or the weight, or the magic of a building full of laughter, they never knew. They were accustomed to the sound, even joked more than once that 93 Diagon Alley just liked to check in, say hello.

At that moment, on George’s twenty-first birthday, but not Fred’s, their home creaked. The stairs actually. They were steep, and narrow and many.

It was at the bottom of these wooden stairs, well after high tea time, late on the first of April that Hermione Granger found one lone broken man. The morning of the second of April found that broken, twenty-one year old man safely tucked in his bed, Skele-Gro resting offensively on his nightstand, and his collarbone wrapped tightly. His friend holding tight to his hand on the uninjured side of his body and staring at him with her all-seeing owl-ish eyes. And on that morning he couldn’t face her, nor on the third morning. He couldn’t face himself, either. He had avoided that choice for three-hundred and thirty-four days. He limped through the sunlight and the moonlight, not living, but not doing the other thing either. And then when he finally made a choice— the world in all its buggery wouldn’t let him do it. Not his magic. Not his home. Not his friend. So he avoided her gaze. He stayed silent and didn’t answer her questions, her pleas. He sat and breathed, and fumed, and mourned. But she didn’t give up. It was a battle, apparently, the kind he hasn’t played in a very long while. Hermione Granger played very well, George soon learned. She could play the long game. She could outsmart anyone, he already knew that, but battle strategies? Warfare? Color him impressed. She met his silence with presence. She emboldened herself to solidify her right to be there, in his home. She washed his dishes, all one million of them that had piled up from his despicable human needs. She scourgified his laundry, and mopped his floors the Muggle way. She gave him a satisfied, if not small, smile under her flushed skin, slightly damp from the hard work. On the fourth morning, over the black tea she handed him, she hummed a tune he had never heard.

What song is that?

A smirk had graced her lips and she could’ve shocked the pants off Merlin himself with what she said next.

Hit Me Baby One More Time.

Muggles and their music. George hadn’t smiled in three-hundred and thirty-seven days. He smiled that day.

So Hermione stayed, teetering around his home and his shop in some unspoken agreement they made. He never received the first Howler full of hysterics, the mediwizards never arrived to cart him off to St. Mungo’s, and Hermione maintained her visits. His family never heard a word of what happened, and he never complained when his friend turned her key into his lock and announced they were nipping to Tesco for crisps since he didn’t have anything.

The anniversary came and went, but George did not grieve alone. He may have wanted to. He may have felt a twinge in his collarbone, and he may have glanced one too many times at his stairs, but he was not alone. Instead, he saw his mother for the first time in six months, his friend with a watery smile in the shadows, watching. Spring turned into summer, and with the heat came sunlight. Glorious sunlight that sparkled off the pond at the Burrow, and turned the hairs on his arms white. The sunlight glistened in Ginny’s hair like a fiery halo, and reflected off Harry’s glasses. It tinged Ron’s skin pink, and brought out the golden flakes in Hermione’s brown eyes. George had forgotten she had such striking eyes. The first time he had noticed the color was years ago at Hogwarts, when she had been wearing a gold chain around her neck, its pendant tucked under her robes. The necklace brought the color out in her eyes, but had done nothing to hide the deep rings of purple underneath. The sunlight brought many memories back to him in the Before. The memories brought pain. But the pain brought ideas. Memories and ideas. An idea that Hermione didn’t like. That was illegal. You don’t understand, George— it cannot be done. Hermione… please. It took many more nights, weeks even, but his friend agreed to look, to see. But no promises, George. At the dawn of fall, her key turned in his lock and wide, owl eyes met his. The gears started turning before she even finished speaking. They would have to travel far, to meet with a Mistress Linnea Birger in Sweden, an expert.

She was rude and unhelpful and George brooded the whole portkey home. As Hermione kicked her shoes off by his front door, he was still grumbling about the international forms he’d filled out in the Portkey Office of the Department of Magical Transportation. The long-suffering sigh and a cup of steaming tea finally soothed his temper. The slam of a book upon his coffee table was as natural to him as the creaking of 93 Diagon Alley. Finally, finally, the night of the winter solstice Hermione says she has it. Nothing about this will be easy, George. Nothing really ever is, is it? The Headmistress will not be pleased when she speaks to her Gargoyle in the stairwell, but the pair are hopeful she could be distracted with joy in the After. Hope, a dangerous feeling indeed. The last Time-Turner, preserved by Professor Dumbledore for services to the school in 1994, lays within the Headmaster’s office. How Hermione knew that is beyond George’s knowledge, but he’s following her lead. They walk in silence, each step bringing them closer to George’s nightmares. The seventh floor, once a place of such fun, now left just as scarred as the rest of them. The castle mourned too. Its magic was ancient and deep, more complex than any have understood. It withstood the great battle, but the castle lost too many that day. One barely a man, who brought such joy into these walls, such cleverness and bravery. A man who breathed life into this magic, kept it going even in the dark, just as he was taught. They would fix this. This pair, one newly formed and one broken, would restore just a bit of what the castle lost that night. They would succeed. They had to. The wall has been repaired and it's waiting for them in the left corridor. George keeps his eyes on Hermione, her spellwork upon the old Time-Turner more rapid and complex than he’s ever seen. The dust, golden and sparkling, swirls up around them. It sticks to his clothes, tangles in her hair, brushes his ear. He doesn’t ask questions, he just watches her work, entranced. The dust creeps up her neck, and she pauses for a split second, wildly seeking him out.

Time is sentient, George, and it does not stand with being manipulated.

What? It’s too late. The Before is rapidly shifting, the ground under them is trembling. Their hands rip apart and George didn’t even remember reaching for her. Spells begin flying over their heads, and George vaults in front, shielding his friend’s body with his own. She pushes him off, landing a shield over their heads and scrambles back as green flashes around them. "Hello, Minister!" George lurches, a visceral response. Nonononono— Hermione, she’s faster. She moves like a cat, vaulting over stone and wood, shoving her way through the bodies and the blood. He didn’t even hear her cast, didn’t see her wand move, but the wall stood still and Fred laughed and Percy adjusted his glasses and Fred laughed and laughed. One moment George was across the corridor and the next his arms were around his twin. Blood and snot and dust and tears— madness. Total madness. “She did it! Oh, Fred, she saved you. Hermione did it. Hermione! Fred, you’re here!”

Fred patted his back. Fred!

“HERMIONE! You did it, Hermione!”

George gripped his brother so tightly it must hurt, but Fred didn’t complain.

“Georgie? What’s wrong?”

George loosened his grip on his twin, a beaming smile on his face. Gold dust still coated his hands, mingling onto Fred’s shoulder.

Fred peered back, concern and bemusement resting on his freckled face. “And who is Hermione?”

I just want you to know that this rendering of George Weasley is exactly who he is in my head <3 You are incredibly talented and it blows my mind

Weasley brothers

See also: Ron | Ginny | Arthur and Molly | All HP Portraits