fake it till you make it [Jimmie]

[Raphael Caelan McLaggen]

10 July 2026

It had been two months since his entire life had been turned upside-down, and Cheese was only just starting to feel like himself again. He couldn’t forget any detail of that day in May – spotting a suspicious shadowy figure in his photographs, running down to the greenhouses to warn Brígh and the rest of Phoenix Rising about it, and then watching his friends and girlfriend run back in to fight Dark wizards and warn other students about what was happening. Rafe had also sprinted to the Great Hall as fast as his long legs could handle, and alongside other unaffected students had helped to evacuate the younger students to Hogsmeade as fast as was physically possible. Then he had stayed in the village watching the castle go up in flames with wide eyes while mediwizards bustled around him and Ministry employees shouted back and forth at each other as they began to line up captured Purifiers for processing and rush injured students into the medical tent. He had been almost frozen with terror, a condition that hadn't left him until he'd seen with his own eyes that Addy and Brígh and everyone else was okay.

The rest of May was only a blur – taking his NEWT exams at the Ministry of Magic, graduating from Hogwarts in the most somber ceremony as everyone contemplated what (and who) they had lost, and then moving in to a cramped but neat place in Diagon Alley with other former Hufflepuffs as he prepared to start his first job ever. As if everything was okay, and normal, and not like he’d just lost his home of the last seven years. There’d been a lot of late nights with his new roommates talking about what had happened, and the longest letters he’d ever written to all his friends as they were split up and went off in new directions. Addy went back to her parents as she started her internship at the Ministry, Penelope to Godric’s Hollow, and Brígh to Morgana-knows-where to start her cursebreaker training. She was the hardest to keep in touch with, just like sixth-year all over again. And after living only two minutes away from all his friends since he was 11 years old…he struggled with the new soul-crushing distance. It wasn’t easy to see them anymore, and certainly not as a group. Someone was always busy, or couldn’t make the trip that day, but don’t worry because there would always be next time. Cheese wondered with increasing depression if things were going to be like this for forever now.

At least the Daily Prophet was proving to be interesting, and a completely stark contrast from the barebones operation Jimmie had been running with the school paper. There was always chaos, especially when it came time to publish a new issue, and there were always deadlines and people running around trying to meet them. Cheese would only just finish with one task before another one would immediately come in, and the little desk he shared with the other photographers was never quiet or empty. Not that he spent much time there anyway – it seemed like every department needed a photographer for something. Rafe would only just come back, out-of-breath from chasing after Quidditch players on the Pitch with a sports reporter, and then he’d be sent right back out again to photograph the best-looking dishes at a new restaurant that had just opened. Grey had been right, all those months ago at the career fair. There was no shortage of work, or interesting opportunities, although Rafe had already begun to realize which types of assignments were his favorite and which were tedious. And the fact that everyone here called him Raphael, after seven years of being known only as Cheese? Well, it still sounded bizarre and he hadn't gotten used to it yet.

But today? Slow news day, thank god. Cheese had been sitting at the desk for about ten minutes now, staring at two nearly identical shots and trying to decide which to submit to his boss. Need. Coffee. It was the only thought running through his mind, so he mechanically got up and went to hunt down the ever-moving coffee pitcher that someone would absentmindedly leave at their desk or forget to refill. He sighed with relief as he poured himself a fresh mug and then began to trudge back to his little corner of the Prophet. But he stopped short at the sight of a familiar blonde head. Merlin’s saggy spellbooks, he’d forgotten that Jimmie was working at the Prophet now too. And she absolutely couldn’t see him, or she’d know that she was right for bullying him into joining the school paper nearly a year ago now! Because it was his future (just like she'd said), and he’d learned responsibility and dedication (just like she'd said), and blah blah blah. Cheese panicked as she turned her head, and quickly stepped behind a potted plant, cradling his coffee close to his chest to avoid spilling even a drop. He held his breath for a few moments until he thought that maybe she might have moved away, then carefully stepped out from behind the plant. Only to nearly drop his coffee as he ran straight into Jimmie’s short (but terrifying) figure. “Gorgons!” he cursed as he hastily took a step back with a flushed face and new expression of deer-caught-in-the-headlights. “Erm…” His mind blanked as he gave a sheepish chuckle. “Uh, hey Jimmie. D-didn’t see you there.”

Jameson Hera Blishwick

[Jameson Hera Blishwick]

no care in the world.

IT WAS THE THREAD SHE HAD SEEN FIRST, trailing behind him and so dark it may well have been black in low lighting. Always pooling at his feet, looking as if it was a mere breath away from tripping him. Jimmie also knew where that thread went, as it slipped out of sight and back out onto the tangled street, wrapped tight around a very snake like finger somewhere in the Ministry's basements. The point was, Raphael McLaggen was a leggy, stooping idiot of a boy and Jimmie could spot him from a mile off. He was like a British Big Foot, for Merlin's-sake.

Unlucky for him, Jimmie had spotted Raphael long before he'd tried to hide from her behind a very ill sized plant pot. She marched towards it with purpose, stopping just out of sight from his crouched figure and waiting impatiently for the moment he decided to pull his tale from between his legs and show himself. He had never subtle, no less at Hogwarts with that goggle-eyed camera, and no different as a graduate.

"I hope you aren't interning for investigative photography, McLaggen." She told him with a tut, crossed arms and chin tilted up at him. There was a very small coffee stain between the buttons of his shirt where he held his cup in a death grip. "You'd be awful at it," She told him with an almost sympathetic smile. Jimmie reached across the space between them, and in a feat of almost impressive wandless magic, swiped the stain from his shirt with a conspicuous flourish. "You ought to put the coffee cup down before you try hiding behind the foliage." She rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head in mild mannered disappointment. 

Raphael Caelan McLaggen

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[Raphael Caelan McLaggen]

It was daunting to think that he was probably going to be bullied by Jimmie for life until one of them died first, but here they were. Cheese cowering behind a potted plant while praying desperately to the Quidditch gods that she hadn’t seen his towering frame. Jimmie walking around like she already owned the place (and not just that her dad paid for major advertising space). Jimmie wasn’t a bad person, really. She was just…weirdly intense about the things she loved and single-mindedly focused on getting everyone else to love them too. Some people could hold their own against her – oh to be a fly on the wall of the Gryffindor dormitories to watch Brígh and Jimmie duke it out – but Cheese was not one of those people. No, he usually forgot the power of speech around her and ended up saying something well-intentioned but kind of offensive. You know, the usual. But there wasn't anything inherently bad about Jimmie Blishwick, and he even considered them an odd pair of friends. They'd probably be even better friends if she toned down the intensity dial by like, at least 20%.

Jimmie’s comments were razor-sharp as always and Rafe spluttered to come up with some witty and sharp retort that would knock her socks off. “I'm not a cistern. Damnit no, intern. Not an intern actually,” Cheese corrected, face turning red at his mishap and praying that Jimmie wouldn't comment on it. Because okay, his 'witty and sharp retort' wasn’t exactly Indiana Jones with his whip making that really satisfying cracking sound, but…close enough? He cleared his throat and puffed out his chest. “Photographers go straight into our jobs. You’re the one with a trial period.” There, that felt pretty decent to say. Even if she was going to eat him alive for it, and probably somehow convince his boss to make him her minion. He didn’t fancy the thought of fetching Jimmie the negatives for the rest of his career at the Prophet, but it was almost worth it for one good quip. She did seem to respect the occasional moment of Cheese proving he had a spine, although the rest of the time she just wanted mindless obedience.

As it was, he got that typical ‘deer in the headlights’ look as Jimmie made to move closer. A rational part of him knew she wasn’t going to hit him, not in public and around so many people. And also because she’d never actually tried to before. But he had vivid memories of her snatching away his camera and he feared for the happiness and well-being of his coffee (and his too, he supposed). He glanced down at his shirt as she wiped away a stain and rolled her eyes at him, then glanced back indignantly at her. “I’m not hiding!” he protested, “I was just…looking for photo opportunities. Plants are…super trendy right now.” That sounded pretty weak even to his ears, so Cheese huffed and asked, “What’re you doing, anyway? Shouldn’t you be out tailing someone with more experience?”

Jameson Hera Blishwick

[Jameson Hera Blishwick]

no care in the world.

IT HAD OCCURRED TO JIMMIE BEFORE, THAT IF  Raphael were in different company, his bumbling attitude might have been considered charming. How he was all floppy brown hair, squinting with smiling eyes as he tried to defend himself with a stuttering courage. Unlucky for him, he was not in different company. Jimmie stared at him with a wide eyed judgement, her brows lifted and her mouth just a little slack as she looked up at him, waiting for him to just stop.

"I'm glad you managed that on the second try." She muttered, clicking her tongue. Jimmie was convinced that his little spiel of stumbling endearment was nothing but a ruse, his retort coming on the backhand. It always threw her for a loop when he did so, never quite expecting such sharpness underneath his broken down voice. "Uh..." She barked a shocked laugh, leaning her head back. "Okay, that felt a little uncalled for." Jimmie sniffed, knowing deep down that it wasn't really. She'd caught him in an embarrassing faux pas, after all. "I wonder what your interviewer would think of you if they seen you now..." She grinned at him beatifically.

With a sigh, Jimmie almost told him to stop. Raphael insisted on defending himself, but he was a terrible liar. His excuse so forced it was almost comical. "Oh, please, don't embarrass us both." She told him sternly, tilting her head to catch his eye as he avoided doing so. "This is honestly painful." Jimmie declared finally, reaching over to pull on the shoulder of his shirt until he was standing again.

"I was only coming over to congratulate you." She lied smoothly, hand coming to rest on her hip. "Well, congratulate me, actually." Her grin was sly this time, practically preening. "I am, after all, the chief reason you found yourself with journalistic experience." Shrugging her shoulders, Jimmie let her gaze slip over the busy Prophet floor. "I added it to my personal statement, actually." Lifting her hand, she mimed the swoop of a quill in hand, pinched between thumb and pointer, "Exceptional management experience among peers..." Her eye teeth glinted with glee. 

Raphael Caelan McLaggen

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[Raphael Caelan McLaggen]

Cheese resisted the urge to sigh and bury his face in his hands. He’d hoped that Jimmie would have somehow discovered an untapped part of her personality since graduation that was generous and caring and didn’t like to prod at people – but that would have been an even stranger sight than a flightless dragon or a silent Brígh. Cheese crossed his arms defensively as Jimmie’s retorts came swiftly and mercilessly – how nice that he managed it on the second try, how fast would his interviewer boot the boy from the Prophet if she could see this exchange now. Jimmie was smiling brilliantly, but Cheese knew her blinding smile and soft features was only hiding a rather crabby girl with a gloomy attitude towards life. It was a surprisingly Slytherin trait for the girl, who probably hadn’t thrown away any of her Gryffindor gear since school, but either way…it offended his Hufflepuff sensibilities.

“You don’t have to manhandle me,” Cheese muttered as Jimmie all but wrestled him back into a semblance of a standing pose, although he rather hoped she hadn’t heard that. He drew himself up to his full height, tilted his head down so he could see the petite girl (even if her rigid posture seemed to add another two feet to her) and puffed out his chest. He’d decided to answer her question as if Jimmie legitimately cared what his boss had to say about him. In fact, Cheese was still glowing and carrying around her last compliment like it was a Shield Charm against the dreariness of a regular work day. “She said she was proud of how hard I’ve been working! That I’ve got real potential.” It did feel rather like he was a first-year again showing off his report card to his parents, but then Rafe couldn’t help but give a shudder at the thought that Jimmie might be anything like his dad.

It felt like a trap when Jimmie mentioned congratulating him on something, but she never did have much patience and didn’t waste any time getting to the punchline. Yeah, that was Jimmie – whenever she wanted something, she wanted it now and saw no reason to wait. He could see rather clearly how that helped her make a name for herself here, but he couldn’t help but grumble that her can-do attitude always seemed to come at his expense. Jimmie looked incredibly pleased with herself, but Cheese couldn’t even admire how good a picture it would make (regal, haughty, the cat that had got the cream) because he was too busy reliving the horror of that courtyard run-in last year. “I’m in your personal statement?” he asked with interest, deciding to ignore most of what she’d said because it was, in fact, true. That was the annoying thing, really. So no, instead Cheese chose to focus on the one thing that sounded almost close to a compliment. He shot her a little smile. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

Jameson Hera Blishwick

[Jameson Hera Blishwick]

no care in the world.

ROLLING HER EYES, JIMMIE DIDN'T BOTHER replying to her supposed 'manhandling'. For all his airs and graces, Raphael could be dramatic. She supposed it came with the creative types. Knowing deep down she wasn't exactly exempt herself as she watched him almost preen with delight at his bosses compliments. Her brows lifting as she watched his posture straighten, a little smirk curling the corners of her mouth as she saw him inflate with ego. It wasn't a bad compliment, after all, but the look was almost foreign on Raphael's humble face.

"'Potential'..." Jimmie echoed, nodding her head slowly as if she was placating a child. She didn't mean to be sarcastic, but he had taken her off guard. She hadn't even expected him to find his way to the Prophet, never mind with glowing recommendation. "That's cool." She added with a shrug, almost as an after thought. As if she had to remind herself to be pleased for him. Jimmie had spent so much time thinking about her own success thar she forgot to share it with the people she disliked the least. She made a point of offering her congratulations, like she was patching up her social faux pas.

"Why are you so surprised?" Jimmie asked him shortly, crossing her arms as he seemed shocked by her adding him into her personal statement. It had, after all, been one of her most successful endeavours at Hogwarts. Raphael was a natural magical photographer - a rare find, really. And there it was, his feeble self-esteem rearing its ugly head to remind her that though Raphael was a talented photographer, he was a social disaster. She scoffed, reaching over and cuffing his shoulder with a playful punch. "If I hated you, Raphael," She started, her smile almost pitying. "Why on earth would I even talk to you?"

It all seemed very obvious to Jimmie.

Though she wasn't the most likeable person - she was nothing if not self aware - she knew a good thing when it came to her. "Walk with me." She instructed, turning in place and walking back towards the prophet elevator. "You know, I think this could be a really good thing." She began without even checking if Raphael had followed her. She just assumed his shadow would follow. Her brain picking apart all the ways she could use this to her advantage. "We could collaborate, you know?" She continued, the wheels in her mind almost visible as they picked up pace. 

Raphael Caelan McLaggen

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[Raphael Caelan McLaggen]

It didn’t matter that Cheese’s two best friends in the world were girls – they were an enigma, impossible to decode. And the same was true for Jimmie, because she was capable of throwing out surprises every time. He thought he’d gotten a good handle on who she was. Jimmie Blishwick was sharp, witty, and about as prideful as a kneazle. She had a good eye for journalism, was a menace on a broomstick, and worked as hard as she could to split away from her family legacy. And occasionally she had something nice to say, but only if it benefitted her somehow. It all seemed fairly straightforward to Cheese, and he’d subsequently worked out the best way to get along with Jimmie with minimal bodily harm. Basically, do as she says and keep his camera out of reach.

So this strange idea that she talked to him because she liked talking to him was…well, strange. Rafe didn’t even notice that she’d used his full name – which literally nobody did anymore besides his mum and Mickey – because he was mystified by the implications of this statement. Did this mean they were friends? The Hufflepuff inside him wanted to say yes, but Cheese raised an eyebrow at her before letting himself get carried away. “Because you usually want something from me,” he pointed out, as it seemed a fairly obvious answer to her question. It was a cynical thought, but then again they lived in a cynical world. The bright sunshine seemed to be mostly blocked out by dark and ominous clouds these days, if the Hogwarts fire was indication of anything.

He blinked at her as she promptly instructed him to walk with her and turned towards the elevators. Staring at her for a moment, Cheese easily kept pace with her by lengthening his strides to close the head start Jimmie had on him. The boy had tried very hard not to catch Jimmie’s attention since they’d both started at the Prophet, because even if he wanted to think they were friends – he’d always assumed he was just a useful tool for her. But he supposed both things could exist in her mind at the same time – she could see all the potential uses for him and not be bothered by his presence (which, really, was the closest Jimmie Blishwick could probably come to liking someone). “Collaborate?” Cheese echoed. He felt obliged to point out, “They don’t really have me helping on real news stories yet. Mostly fluff pieces. Y’know – oldest wizard in England, bakery openings, balloons shaped like runespoors. Doesn’t seem like your kinda thing, really.”

Jameson Hera Blishwick

[Jameson Hera Blishwick]

no care in the world.

JIMMIE WAS COMING TO REALISE THAT conversing with Raphael was a full time job. He seemed at a constant loss around her, like he couldn't quite figure out why she even bothered. She thought privately that Raphael had better work on his self-esteem, especially if he was going to prosper into his so-called 'potential'. And also, if she was going to bother being his friend at all, because it was quite tiresome carrying him on her back all the time. She tutted, rolling her eyes skyward.

"Please," She sighed, nostrils flaring as she gave him a narrowed look. "Of course I want something from you." Jimmie explained, shaking her head as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She gave him a moment to mull it over, to consider the absolute worst possible scenario. Perhaps she wanted his spine, or that polished little camera he carried around like an extra limb. Let him stew for a few seconds, refrained from smiling, then promptly hooked her arm with his. She steered them towards the elevator. "I want you to walk with me," She repeated, grinning like a great fiend.

Spinning into the 'potential' of their working friendship, Jimmie felt her belly fizz with excitement. She hadn't many work friends, but Jimmie was making quite the collection of photographers. She thought of Cordelia and her unfortunate attachment to the Quibbler, giving Raphael a side-long glance and realising the two had quite a bit in common. Apart from the fact that they were formidable artists in their fields. She felt quite fortunate indeed, her little smile saying just that. Eventually, Cordelia would come around.

"Fluff pieces for now," Jimmie interjected with  raised finger, though she couldn't say very much about her own experience. She'd mostly been doing bylines and busy work since graduation. This, of course, was due a change. "But, if we work together..." Jimmie raised her brows and stared at him expectantly. "Well..?" She hurried him, digging her elbow into his side gently as they came to a stop at the elevator. "Do you want to be taking pictures of pastries for the rest of your life?" Her face screwed, detailing her disgust at the prospect, "Or, do you want to be a part of the stuff that matters?" She held out her hands, weighing them out for him with that knowing lift of her brows. He needn't answer, really. 

Raphael Caelan McLaggen

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[Raphael Caelan McLaggen]

The thing about working at the Prophet – there was no such thing as a straight line. As in, the whole place was chaos and the best reporters thrived from doing twists and turns until they arrived at their story. There was no straight shot at success, and he’d seen some bizarre journalists who’d gotten used to doing bizarre things just to stay on top of everything. And as for the straight line thing, he also meant that literally. The Prophet offices were a black hole of constant motion, and there was always a million things happening around you. So if you wanted to, let’s say, go from the kitchen to the elevators – first you had to wind around groups of gossiping interns, frantic editors, and a highly grumpy Breaking News analyst who was just finishing up a night shift.

In that sense, Jimmie had an advantage and a disadvantage over him. His legs were much longer than hers, so she had to take two steps just to keep up with one of his strides. But then again, she was much smaller and better at dodging. Cheese screeched to a halt as a floating edible arrangement whizzed past him, then he hurried back to Jimmie’s side just to hear her confirm she wanted something from him. Rolling his eyes to himself (and safely out of her line of vision), Cheese shook his head and let her drag him along like a fish on a hook. He didn’t want to admit it out-loud, but he was sorta curious where she was going with this. Jimmie could be a difficult person sometimes, but she always had really good ideas. And yeah, he couldn’t deny that there hadn’t been a single boring edition of the school paper while she’d been in charge.

So he listened skeptically, but he still listened. Her mind was clearly already somewhere else as she imagined the sort of stories they might be able to work on together, and Rafe sighed at her last few (kinda judgmental) questions. They’d stopped by the elevators, and her eyes were locked on the doors like they were massively more interesting than anything he might say. “Okay, listen…this stuff matters to me. These pieces are about people and their lives and what they’re doing with them. And I really admire that.” Yeah, fluff pieces were the bottom of the totem pole, the kind of stuff they put rookies on…but he legitimately enjoyed the assignments he got. Every person was a whole world and he got to put a spotlight on it for others to see too. “I think it’d be aces to work together. But because we could do something creative. Not because I hate where I am now.”

Jameson Hera Blishwick

[Jameson Hera Blishwick]

no care in the world.

RAPHAEL HAD A JILTED, UNNERVING GAIT THAT often left him either five paces in front of Jimmie, or four behind. She thought errantly that he was likely a terrible dancer, and she was glad he wasn't treading on anybody's toes. In fact, as she mused and thrummed with ambitious excitement, she caught Raphael bobbing his great big head of floppy dog hair as he dodged a rather large edible arrangement. She paused only to scoff at him once, shaking her head as they made it to the elevator relatively unscathed. Jimmie supposed it was a good thing he could take his little pictures standing in once place, because she doubted he could do much multi-tasking.

"I mean, lets consider the kind of-" Jimmie was gearing up to rant about all of their untapped potential when Raphael finally spoke up. Her mouth froze, her chin tilting up to catch a very serious look on Raphael's face. He seemed to ooze a kind of disapproving defence. She dropped her hands at her side, noting that he needn't remind her to listen with a fizzle of indignation. Which was matched clearly with her stiff little frown, which she directed at him expectantly as she very slowly and deliberately crossed her arms to let him finish.

"Look, I'm not your boss." She tittered, her mouth thinning in a humourless smile. "You don't need to convince me you're happy with your watered down assignments." Jimmie sniffed, realising absently that she was probably being a little harsher than necessary, but she didn't appreciate the implication that he was perfectly happy and content, while she appeared desperate for his help. "I never said you hated it," She rolled her eyes at the theatrics of it all. Reaching over once to poke him in the ribs to define her point as clearly as possible. "I'm saying you can do better."

The elevator made a happy little dinging noise as it opened, releasing a harried slew of employees in various degrees of busy mutterings. Jimmie side stepped, manoeuvring Raphael with her, letting the deluge pass before she manhandled them both into the steel box. A skinny, pimpled wizard grinned at them in greeting and yanked the grate closed. An intern, or perhaps a relative of a higher up eager to let their sprogs look prestigious with a 'Ministry job'. Jimmie tried not to curl her lip, both relating and hating the idea entirely as she pressed the button for the caff floor.

"You know, I think you're getting all wrapped up in the excitement of having a Big Lad job." She gave him an almost fond little smile, nudging his shoulder in a friendly way as the elevator lurched to one side before firing upwards in a stomach swooping rush. "It's okay to be good," She mused, thinking of all the ways she avoided being just average. And perhaps she was projecting a little, but Raphael's bland acceptance of mediocrity brought it out of her. "Don't you want to be great?" She lifted her brows, almost curious of how his Puff sized brain would skew it into something reeking of sincerity. 

Raphael Caelan McLaggen

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!