#and before you swing at me i do still keep the values. Better than some of the people I left behind in the building i might add.

[shadowblah45468]

This is...a shit argument. Like, bad debate style.

Also didn't Christianity as a whole kinda assimilate tons and tons of practices, icons, symbolism and more for the sake of being *everywhere*, even at the expense of authenticity truth (e.g. J-Dawg's birthday not being Christmas)?

Also also hasn't there been a fuckload of art and culture that bloomed from or into or back out of christian churches? Like homies were making stained glass before church weren't they? and they continue to do so without the purpose of putting it in a church.

Anyways back to my original point

1-Catholicism isn't the end all be all of Christianity.

2- you missed the point of "I dipped from the church because of hypocrisy and criminals in the church" and it's not really a good look to say that's the "purpose behind them". Yipes.

3-Its joke. It's not that deep. Touch grass and eat good bread.

[waywardsou2]

Drunk!Logan x Drunk!Male Reader

This was supposed to be kinda smutty but it ended up being kinda sad. If you want to see part two with some actual NSFW themes then let me know in the comments, because I feel like I can go somewhere with this.

Summary: Life is shitty being a mutant, and it's even shittier when you can't save everyone. So where do you turn? The bar, to drink away the pain and forget for a few hours. Unfortunately for you, someone decided to keep you company.

Word Count: 1k+

Tags: alcohol, bar fight, suicidal ideation, self-hate, self-esteem, worthlessness trauma

It had been a rough week, the missions got difficult and sacrifices had to be made. People were lost. But its part of the job right? That shit always happens. Well tonight you just couldn’t stand it, the knowing that there were people you couldn’t save. Families who were missing loved ones, because you weren’t fast enough.

It made you sad, but it mostly made you angry. At least that’s how you presented it to the world. And that’s how you presented it to Logan, the man who had followed you to the bar. You didn’t know why. If he cared, you didn’t want his pity. If he was here for a drink why couldn’t he have gone somewhere else.

Big scary Logan, The Wolverine. What did he need to sit here and drink about, especially where you were trying to get shit faced before you had to see Charles the next day.

“Can’t you drink somewhere else?” you say to him, your words already slurred from the bottle you had almost finished emptying.

“Nope” he said flatly as he sat down on the stool next to you, ordering a round of shots for himself.

You rolled your eyes, either this guy was dense or just an asshole.

“Oh Logan is too high and mighty to go drink somewhere else because I would rather get shit faced alone than with company” you say

The bar was empty, but it didn’t really matter much, you weren’t going to keep your voice down even if there were people in here. Something about him was just rubbing you the wrong way. You didn’t know whether it was the alcohol, the pain of your supressed emotions or just the fact that Logan never bat an eye at you despite how much you tried to show him you had value to the team.

“Yeah basically”

Your anger gets the better of you at his sarcasm and you shove him, he leans away, almost spilling his drink. He downs it and turns to you

“Are we gonna have a problem, bub?”

“I don’t know, are we?” you retort

“You want to do this here? Now?”

“What to scare to make a mess? Afraid you’ll hurt me? Guess what asshole I’m-“

But he didn’t get to hear what you are because he shoved you back, standing up from his seat as he pushed you off yours and onto the ground. Your back hit the wooden floor and you hear the bartender sigh.

You watch as he walks away from the counter and into the back.

You glare up at Logan, lips peeled back in a snarl. But before you could stand up, he was grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and pulling you up from the ground. He was taller than you slightly so he could lift you off your feet.

“You think your funny with a smart mouth like that, well I got news for you, it’ll be no good for anything if you keep running it off”

You tried to shove him off of you but you couldn’t bring up enough force with your feet barely touching the ground.

“Let go of me!”

“Are going to calm down?”

“That depends, are you going to keep pushing me around?”

He dropped you and your knee buckled a little bit at suddenly having to take weight again.

“You pushed first” he muttered going to sit back down

“And I’m going to push last”

You swing at him, a sloppy, open swing, unlike your usual bullet-like punches. Before you could even make contact with Logan he spun around and pushed you to the floor again, clambering on top of you. His claws out. The outermost ones were jammed into the floor creating a fracture in the wood from the force, the middle was still retracted, barely peeking out of the gap in his skin just above your neck.

Instead of feeling fear at the threat you laugh. Like him, you had super regeneration so him stabbing you was no real threat. Not to mention you had carbon fiber steel for skin. He shoves his face in yours and growls

“What the fuck is your problem” he spits

Both of you have drunk enough, you're both rearing for a fight and the only person you have to take it out on is each other.

Logan is pissed, he doesn’t get you. You spend every mission jumping into dangerous situations and then you come to the bar every night to come back drunk. Do you have a screw loose or are you just that stupid.

Even as he looks at you with his brow furroed and his claws at your throat you continue to laugh.

“Go on then, slice me open. Maybe we’ll both feel better afterwards” you laugh again but pain stings at your eyes as tears well up.

If only you could just die, make a sacrifice worth something like everyone else. Maybe then the pain will stop, maybe then you won't spend every night pitting yourself, maybe you won't be the cause of any more loss because you just weren’t good enough.

Logan pauses, ready cut you to ribbons but your statement makes him freeze. He knows that tone, the mirth. The self-deprecation and pain in your words. He doesn’t need to be like Charles to know what’s going on in your head.

“What. Are. You. Waiting. For?”

Before Logan could answer or move you grip his wrist pulling it out of wooden floors and slam his fist into you chest.

But there are no blades, no blood and not cuts. Just the knuckles of his fist thumping into your chest. It only throbs in pain, no damage done.

“Fuck you” you say bluntly and shove him off of you, pushing him away and standing up. He’s left speechless watching as you stand up, down the rest of the bottle and one of his shots. Pull out some crumpled notes and storm off, walking out into the night.

Let me know if you want part 2 and I take request for as well so check me out @waywardwritesstuff for my request info.

(Psst you can find part 2 here)

[itsthesinbin]

Sins in Stardust [Chapter 8: Not in the Job Description] (Bill Cipher/Reader/Stanford Pines)

I like that Gravity Falls just has so much random bullshit that I can make silly "episodic" bonding chapters like this. It's a nice break from main plot stuff while also still forwarding the story via relationships.

Read the fic on AO3 here!

Reblogs and feedback appreciated- if you like it, reblog it!

-------------------------------

You and Bill settled into a little routine during that first week on the job. You went first, on the off chance some stragglers were around, and swept or mopped. Bill followed behind either dusting or picking up trash. He complained about how messy humans were, when they left soda cans or food packages around. You had to agree with him about those complaints. It was ridiculous how little people cared.

You were laughing at Bill, who had stepped in yet another discarded wad of gum and was losing his mind, when Soos found you guys. He couldn’t help but smile at the scene, even if he was still wary of Bill. The week he had been here had been tense, but considering the guy hadn’t ACTUALLY tried to kill anyone- or was caught slipping on the possible “faking amnesia” act- Soos decided to tentatively take things more at face value. Less waiting for the impact, so to speak. Just taking it slow and watching for signs of a storm.

“Havin’ fun, dudes?” You jumped at your boss’ voice, before giving him a wave. Despite the suspicions he had about you both, Soos had been the coolest boss you’ve had. He was friendly, lax, and willing to compromise. Bill still thought he was a moron, but started keeping those thoughts more to himself.

“NO,” the triangle screamed as he used a paper towel to wipe gum off of his foot. “You humans are DISGUSTING, leaving your bacteria-filled WADS on the FLOOR!” Soos did cringe, giving a little shudder at the idea.

“Gross. Well, you guys can get away from the gum for a bit! Need to get some raccoons outta the attic. I think they’re raccoons anyway. I kinda just see a bunch’a fur before they’re outta sight.” Soos motioned for you guys to follow him. He passed by a little closet, pulling out a bat for you. Bill got a hammer, since that was small enough for him to hold properly. He immediately took a swing at Soos’ kneecap. The big guy was more agile than you thought, thankfully, and dodged it. You threatened to thwack him with the bat when he raised the hammer to do it again.

Soos led you to the stairs up to the attic. He turned to you guys, Bill quickly hiding the hammer behind his back. He totally wasn’t gonna try and hit Soos in the leg. Absolutely not. He was a perfect little angel.

“I gotta finish cleanin’ the showroom since you guys are doin’ this. Dunno how many are up there, good luck,” he laughed. He left you two there, completely oblivious to how much neither of you wanted to do this.

“I really hope I don’t get rabies,” you grumbled, getting the bat ready. Bill snickered.

“Can’t be any worse than those gnomes. At least they can’t tie me up!” You sighed, already feeling exhausted. If it came down to it, you’d go get rabies shots after work. You had no idea if Bill needed rabies shots. Better to just keep him out of biting range.

You opened the attic door, realizing now that you had no idea how you were going to chase raccoons out in a way that mattered. This place sucked. Why couldn’t he just call animal control? Costs? Cheap ass.

You didn’t immediately see anything. No fur, no nesting material, nothing. Just some old beds and some posters stuck to the walls. Looks like some kids had stayed here- a boy and a girl, if gender stereotypes still rang true in this situation. The only thing that caught your eye were some weird stuffed animals with beards. Completely normal plushies like bears and unicorns, but had full beards. Little girls were into weird toys, so you didn’t think too much about it as you entered the attic fully.

Bill followed behind you, holding his hammer like you were holding your bat. You did a sweep around the room, even opening the mostly-empty closet. Bill peeked under the old, unused beds. Nothing in either spot. Bill groaned.

“This is stupid. Can we just tell him we didn’t see anything and take a lunch break? I want my leftover spaghetti.” You also wanted your spaghetti, honestly. You also didn’t want to fight fucking raccoons over minimum wage. You leaned on the bat like a cane, sighing.

“Yeah okay. I also want spaghetti.” “Can I keep the hammer?” You gave him a sideways glance, not even bothering to answer. He’d keep it no matter what you said. You just shook your head and started to leave.

Then you both heard something move behind you. After the gnome incident, you both were on high alert to sudden noises.

You whipped around, but didn’t see anything. You looked up at the roof, just in case. It was only the ceiling above you. Nothing suspicious.

“You heard that too, right?” you asked, looking around slowly. Bill agreed that he did. He was quiet for a second, before pointing to a stuffed unicorn.

“Didn’t that thing have a beard?” Your eyes snapped to it. Your shoulders drooped. Then you spotted movement. Something shuffled out from under the bed, before jumping at you like a facehugger.

“THIS TOWN FUCKING SUCKS,” you screamed, swinging as hard as you could with the bat. It hit with a sharp crack, sending the creature through the window. You flinched as the glass shattered. You panted, looking down at Bill. He gave you an enthusiastic thumbs up. Then you both heard more skittering.

When you turned back, you couldn’t stop the creature from flying at your face this time. It latched onto your face and you were knocked onto your back. Bill jumped back, raising the hammer out of instinct. But then he remembered your face was under it. You wouldn’t make a deal with the guy who bashed your teeth in and COULDN’T fix it. Damn. He dropped the hammer and tried to pry the creature off, but it was stuck fast.

You stopped struggling after a minute, instead just laying there wheezing. Eventually you sat up. The creature was still now, looking exactly like a lumberjack’s beard. Bill was silent as you stared at him in horror. He didn’t know if it was because he almost made room for dentures, or because there was a sentient beard attached to your face now.

Bill started cackling. He was laughing so hard he fell to his knees, tears squeezing from the corners of his eye. You pulled at the beard, but the creature wouldn’t budge.

“You l- holy FUCK- look great-! You should keep- you should keep it,” he wheezed out between laughs. You grabbed him by the bowtie, catching him off guard. His hammer fell from his hand with a clatter. Another beard flew at you, so you did the only thing that was appropriate now.

Bill yelled as the flying beard latched onto him. You dropped the demon and watched the struggle, picking up your bat and standing. Your new friend made your face itch. You scratched at your face as you waited.

He finally stopped fighting with the creature, standing up. It was your turn to cackle. The beard creature was as big as he was, almost, so he just looked like Cousin It with a top hat and bowtie. You coughed from how hard you inhaled, doubling over with the bat as support. Even under the beard, you knew he was turning red.

“QUIT LAUGHING BEFORE I TEAR YOUR VOCAL CHORDS OUT AND WEAR THEM, MEAT SACK,” he roared, voice going so low your ears rang. You would’ve been scared, if he wasn’t just covered in fur.

A few more beards appeared from their hiding spots, making you both stop. With Bill fully covered by one of their friends, they all began to advance on you. You stepped back and gripped your bat. The beard already attached to your face moved, covering your eyes. You screamed and tried to rip it off. Your bat clattered to the ground with a metallic thunk.

“BILL,” you yelled, panicked. Bill was also panicking, though you couldn’t see it. You heard the tell-tale snapping of him trying to use any power he may have. Then you heard the metal bat scrape against the floor. With a grunt of effort, you heard it clang against something. Bill had all but dropped it onto one of the beards that was on the floor.

You fell backwards, hitting the wall hard when you tripped over his discarded hammer. You heard small feet hurry to your front.

“I gotcha- FUCK OFF!” Another thwack, and a skittering noise in the opposite direction. Frantically, you began searching your pockets. You didn’t have many options, and doing this to your own face was stupid. You fished out your lighter. 

If you had a nickel for every creature you’ve set on fire to escape it, you’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird it’s happened twice. 

Bill hit another one hard, and you heard a sickening crunch. You couldn’t help but balk. Crunch. How does a beard crunch?

“Do these things have fucking BONES?” Bill let out a startled, disbelieving laugh- both at your yell and the revelation.

“That makes this so much more FUN!” With all of his strength, Bill swung again and got a similar result. You cringed. Bill was good at holding them off, but you could tell he was getting tired. That bat was heavy, and not made for people his size.

You fumbled with the lighter, feeling with your other hand for part of the beard. You held the lighter to the creature. The smell of burning hair hit instantly, but the creature didn’t move at first. You grew worried that it wouldn’t matter. That your efforts were useless and you’d just be covered in gross, parasitic beards.

Then it screeched. It jolted away from your face, scurrying out of the busted window to get away from the fire- to put out the small fire that started on itself. You scratched at your face furiously, getting rid of the itch and the stray hairs that stuck to your face. Bill heaved and gave a much weaker hit to the ground to intimidate the creatures. One was dead on the ground. He looked back at you.

“Well, look at that! Fire DOES solve all your problems,” Bill laughed. You rolled your eyes and took the bat from him. You handed him the lighter so he could get his Cousin It cosplay off. Please don’t let him light the building on fire.

Giving Bill a break, you charged and swung at one of the creatures. The bat cracked off of it, and sent it rolling. It crawled out of the window with pained chirps. The other few beards were getting wary, especially with one of its own dead. The smell of burning hair seemed to set them off, as the one on Bill screeched and ran.

The last few decided to bail, hurrying after their injured comrades. You ran with them, following them to the window to make sure they actually left. Bill was behind you, climbing up to see them run as well. You two watched them break for the treeline. Both of you stood there, breathing heavily and covered in beard hair. You moved, sitting on the boy’s bed to catch your breath. Bill sat with you.

“Can we tell Soos we got rabies?” You looked down at him, exasperated. Bill kicked his feet, trying to hide how tired he was. You could see the slight slump to his form, the way one of his hands rubbed at the cracks on his body like they were sore. You frowned.

“We can sneak down to the kitchen and get the can of whipped cream to make it more believable,” he added, nudging you with his free elbow. You sighed, picking some hairs out of his bricks.

“Yeah okay,” you finally relented. He got a mischievous look in his eye as you both left. He was happy you finally went along with one of his schemes. He was also ecstatic to finally fuck with someone other than you. And you had to admit: after all the grief you’ve been through, a mindless prank sounded good.

You two took turns spraying whipped cream onto your faces, then went to find Mister Mystery himself. He was outside, looking at the broken window in confusion. You took the “sick and needs help” approach and began to shamble towards him.

“Boss,” you moaned to get his attention. Soos turned, his face dropping when he saw you covered in fur and, supposedly, frothy drool. “I don’t feel so good…”

He opened his mouth, but Bill had taken a different approach to you. He sprinted towards Soos like a bat out of hell, bright red and snarling. It made you break character as you let out a startled snort and began to laugh. Soos screamed like a little girl, foot coming out as soon as Bill got close. Directly into Bill’s eye. Deserved, honestly.

“MY EYE- THAT HURT YOU TUB OF LARD-” He fell over, wiping the whipped cream off and holding his eye. Soos stood there, sheepish and flustered. You wheezed, unable to stand up. Your ribs hurt.

“Attic’s clear-” you managed to get out. Soos caught on that it was a prank. The guy was good natured and couldn’t help but laugh along.

“Good job, dudes. And uh… Sorry about the eye, Bill.” “I WILL TWIST YOUR BONES IN THEIR SOCKETS-!” Soos stepped around him, smiling sheepishly. He patted you on the shoulder and thanked you guys, letting you take care of your now-injured companion.

Bill’s eye was bloodshot and the lids were beginning to swell. You got him on his feet, but he couldn’t see straight. You decided to put him on your shoulders for now.

“C’mon, let’s get some ice on that and eat our lunch,” you snickered. Bill groaned, dropping his upper half onto your head.

“This town fucking sucks,” came his muffled declaration. You hummed, partially agreeing. It was interesting, at least.

[jones-friend]

I think everyone should try building these commanders once (electronic, not in paper)

When I built each of these I learned a whole lot about deckbuilding and piloting these decks. I have notes below the cut, just in case you want to go into this unspoiled. I also would love if you do try building these show me the link!

Rashmi 1.0 is about understanding mana curve and cheating mana value for gains. You need a balanced curve with some scry and topdeck tech to keep freecasting the top card of your library. Cards like Elder Deep Fiend with high mana values you discount to UU while having flash are huge.

I have played aristocrat strategies before. None of them operate like Athreos. The pay 3 life or I get it back trigger makes your creature selection matter, because if you sacrifice a 6 mana sun titan for someone else to let it go to hand you now need 6 free mana to recast which is hard to come by. If built wrong you end up bouncing expensive creatures instead of sending them to the gy for easy reanimation.

I recommend a lot of low to the ground etb’s that are in the 2 drop range, 3 mana maximum, who give value after cast and etb not on death. Cards that exile from hand are clutch ways of keeping power out of the game until you can drill life totals. Then play smart with Ath triggers to deal bolt damage or recur creatures as you need them.

The Jori En Two-Step. You can argue better commanders exist from Thunder Junction but being 3 mana is hugely important for the strat. Ideally you are casting 2 spells on each player turn, letting turns go around as you cast smaller cantrips for value. Jori En flies under the radar with more pressing threats netting you tons of cards per game.

OTJ commander has some new tricks but I would look into mana efficient control spells like Memory Lapse, Izzet Charm, and Stifle. You don’t need to 100% solve the problem, a Suspend on an attacking creature will take them out of the game for exactly as long as you need. Play fast and smart and needle strats to keep them at bay as your cast triggers become overwhelming.

Kathril is a precon I fell in love with in 2020 and despite not getting new additions very often at all its still a fun as heck deck! The key is to mill some while building a boardstate, drop your commander, then swing with kitted up creatures. Bonus points if you don’t go voltron.

When I built Kathril I had to establish some rules to make it work:

Creatures must have two keywords minimum. If they don’t there needs to be a very good reason to include them (like Odric 2.0)

Creatures I intend to swing with need minimum power 3+. A doublestrike 2/2 or 1/1 isnt pressing enough of a threat

Creatures should have a mana value smaller than Kathril. Some adds like Carnage Tyrant are too juicy not to, but if your whole curve is above Kathril you’re in for a slow game.

There must be a good distribution of keywords. Flying and trample are easy to come by, dig deeper for good reach and menace options.

Early game, mana efficient mill sets up the gy for Kathril to exploit. Be sure to run some mill. Carrion Grub makes for an amazing early game play, it mills, will have decent P/T, and curves into Kathril.

[loopspoop]

He was getting increasingly frustrated. Nothing about this day was going right. And Goemon was making everything worse. He wasn't doing anything wrong per se, but his hesitation to act was starting to get on Jigen’s nerves. A part of him knew Goemon was right. Lupin DID always have a way of just popping back up again after disappearing for a few days. But there was always some reason. Some bigger picture. This was a small town, virtually a village, and they hadn't made any enemies recently, none that would cause this.

Perhaps Pops had arrested Lupin, but kept it on the down low to keep from being embarrassed when Lupin inevitably escaped after a few hours again. But it was unlikely. Zenigata had no control over it, and the press was unfailing in their ability to find out the tiniest details in the so-called Lupin case.

He had walked about a mile and a half, when he suddenly realized that he still had to gather his things. It had been a long time since he had gotten so lost in his thoughts. But none of it made sense, no matter how much he thought on it.

He entered into the closest store he found. It was relatively modest. He went to grab the simplest pre made meals he could grab a hold of. Usually, he would have grabbed something more ornate, to make himself, but somehow he didn't feel like cooking now.

He grabbed a few packs of cigarettes. An off brand, just to add to the kind of day it was turning out to be.

……….

Fujiko was in the bath when her phone rang. It was probably Lupin calling to rant about some new treasure that he was sure she was going to love, or that she could sell for an astounding amount of money even if they split it down the middle. Though she always managed to get a little more than a pure down the middle split. More like a humble 80 percent. She wouldn't mind a deal like that right now, as long as it wouldn't take too much effort.

She answered the phone and immediately flinched at the voice at the other end. That wasn't what she suspected. It was Jigen. He only called her if Hell had frozen over at least three times.

“Jigen? Yes I'm still in France. What's going on?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then a somewhat rambling explanation.

“Oh come on. That's not a big deal! Lupin's always going places without telling anyone. Just use it as an excuse to go on a vacation for once in your life. He'll show up wherever you go. You can't escape the guy.”

Her mood had been ruined so she got out of the bath and started to get ready for bed.

“Look. I don't know why you're bothering me with this.”

Some harsh choice words came from the other end of the line. Typical. This is what she got for answering one of Jigen's calls. She hung up without another word. She didn't want to hear anymore of what he had to say. She knew it wasn't normal for Lupin to disappear with seemingly no reason. It worried her. She'd have to head there first thing in the morning. But she'd have to come up with an excuse for why she was there once she showed up. Maybe she was swinging by to check up on Lupin and in return for her generosity and kindness they could give her whatever they managed to get in their last heist. Seemed like a fine enough cover.

………

Goemon had stopped at a world market near where they had parked the car. There was a distressingly low number of Japanese food options, but enough. He wasn't too picky. He would take what he could get.

………

He woke up shivering. It wasn't too bad though. He felt hundreds of times better than he had before his rest. He looked out the window. It was solidly dark now. He was surprised, expecting to have slept through the entire night at least. He stretched as much as he could without endangering his injuries.

He stared out the window, still laying in the far bed, simply trying to recall anything. Even the simplest thing. But it all felt just out of reach, like he was lost in a deep fog but could make out some vague colors or sounds. But nothing of any real value. The longer he pushed, the more of a headache began to grow. He decided to leave it for now. He needed to focus on healing first. For the first time since he woke up at the museum, though, he felt spectacularly lonely.

He looked to the clock on the table between the beds. 10:56. It was possible that there was still some kind of store opened. He wished it had been later so that he could reason staying in bed just a little longer.

He reluctantly rose from the bed to go outside once more. He decided to leave his jacket behind this time. Hopefully it was warm enough to survive without it for a time. And it was the thing in the worst shape second only to him. He hadn't realized it before, but the jacket seemed to have saved him the additional torture of several more cuts.

………

He opted to return to the same store as before and hoped that the cashier had gone home for the day. He didn't like the way that she had looked at him before.

It took about half the time this time now that he had regained his energy, but he still felt the need to be cautious.

He entered the store with a great haste, gathered the gauze and some medicine that he hoped would help with the fever he felt forming. It left nearly no money for food, but he could find a way to get some more tomorrow. He grabbed a couple more of the same fruit from before, the cheapest in the store luckily.

And even more luckily, the cashier had indeed changed. He managed to leave without any trace of suspicion. But on his way out, his eyes caught something that he had missed before.

It was a small yellow car. His heart beat happily. He walked over to it without even thinking.

………..

Oooooo 👀👀👀👀

[tobiasdrake]

Amazing how, despite the absence of Peacekeepers in our face right this second, this is nonetheless the worst its ever been.

I'm not saying Makoto fucked us all. ...but I'm not not saying that. If things continue down this path, Makoto will have killed Huesca and destroyed the Nocturnal Detective Agency, something Yomi's been trying and failing to do for weeks, all in one fell swoop. Yomi will get to ride the high of killing us all and Makoto gets to go home secure in the knowledge that he made this checkmate happen.

Assuming this is the outcome that he intended to happen, of course. But I've watched Makoto work Yomi over. Man's playing 4-D chess while we're all playing checkers. It is highly possible that he meant all of this to happen.

So this is our motive. To escape the base, we have to find Fink and prove his existence to Yomi - Which will likely involve some retaliatory soul-reaping to avenge Yakou.

Probably not. Like I said earlier, if all of these security measures are stopping us from leaving then they may be stopping Fink from leaving too. It's possible he's still in the building. If he didn't get out before they turned off the elevator, he may even still be on this floor.

Right now, Yomi's licking his wounds and figuring out what to do with us. We have breathing room. This is the perfect time to act.

Desuhiko's not wrong and this is a common complaint I have with Yuma's behavior. But it's better than sitting around with our thumbs up our asses, wondering how long until Yakou draws his final breath.

If Halara's with us then we must be on the right path! Let's do this!

Astral projection. Which means if we hold his hand, we can astral project too.

Hold up, condition? You gonna tell me what that means, big guy?

I will tear you in half little man.

I mean, I won't. But if you swing on Vivia, I will offer Halara a fiver to snap you in two. I don't even care that Vivia could outfight you in his sleep. They can both kick your ass together.

It's astral projection. I knew it. This spiritual ability is probably also why he can see Shinigami. He has one foot in the plane that she exists on.

This is going to be fun. I can't wait to Coalesce with it! Vivia, you and I are going to be the best of partners.

CHOKE ON YOUR TONGUE. I wanna be a gho~ost! T_T

He is looking right at Shinigami as he says this. He knows exactly what's going to happen if he helps us.

No, we won't. Yomi's a fascist prick. Before Halara showed up, he was kicking Yakou's body to help him die faster. We're supposed to trust that guy with Yakou's medical care?

You and me both, my guy. I feel you. I'd love to live in that world too. But it isn't what we have. It's important to always keep moving forward, to keep striving to build a better world to live in. But to always keep one eye on the world that presently exists.

I wish I could believe that Yomi is a good-hearted well-meaning guy who will engage with us in good faith and offer Yakou the care that he deserves. I wish I could have faith that our situation is such.

But I don't. His behavior has given me zero confidence in his willingness or ability to treat us fairly.

Too harsh, Halara. While I agree that Vivia should help me commit long-range remote-murder, I can't fault him for his reluctance to do so. He's got a good heart.

Yes to that first one; He does seem violently concerned about the presence of the Book of Death among us, and its involvement in our activities. Rightly so. It's killing people.

Vivia once again cutting to the thematic heart of these investigations. Through the Mystery Labyrinth, the price we pay for the answers we find far outweighs the value of those answers. We trade lives in exchange for secrets that weren't worth those lives.

Should he truly help us do it? Take the blood upon his hands, the same as ours? Desuhiko and Halara can't fathom what he's talking about because they don't know. They don't understand what's at stake here. But Vivia knows. He sees the monster that lurks over Yuma's shoulder and feeds on souls unjustly condemned.

I hope he sticks to his guns. I know he won't, 'cause we have a case to crack and game mechanics won't let us just call it here. But this is a strong moment for him.

Oh, we're going to trick him. Wow. That's dangerous. We don't even know if we'll be able to get our soul back in its body without his help.

Never mind, he knew exactly what we were on about.

Yeah, he rolled over fast. "I won't do the thing because I'm morally opposed to it. I have no qualms with helping you do the thing, though. It's not the doing of the thing that I'm against; I just don't want to do it myself."

SPOOKY GHOST. This is awesome. I'm going to investigate so many things and they won't be able to stop me. And maybe finally take my chance to rub my butt on Yomi's desk like I promised.

Gotta keep my word, y'know. It's called integrity.

[houseofashesif]

he was born and raised in Varanasi, India until the age of 10. then he immigrated to Britain with his parents where he studied in █████ University till he was 18. (p.s. i changed his past from Keaton's death to simply getting tortured physically and mentally)

ABOUT HIM (p.p.s it's all jumbled up soooo-)

➤ Ayaan originally wanted to be a Wildlife Biologist, maybe a part time Toxicologist, but his father wanted him to join I-DIE so he did. albeit reluctantly and against his will. because his father insisted so.

➤ has a surprisingly very british sounding accent despite what people think when they hear about his indian heritage

➤ tends to violently and unexpectedly switch between hindi, english and bengali whenever he's agitated or just mad in general

➤ can be frequently seen facepalming himself on the face and letting out an anguished "কি খারাপ অবস্থা" (basically "what the hell" In english) whenever someone messes up something before him, which they frequently do owing to his intimidating reputation

➤ has a pet venus flytrap. and a poecilotheria metallica (aka peacock tarantula) too. which he always brings to work with him. apparently it's his emotional support tarantula. don't question it.

➤ his favourite animal is the Eastern Green Mamba.

➤ has been bitten by snakes more than 50 times so far. that, not including bites from wild hornets, his pet tarantulas, scorpions and etc

➤ Ayaan's house has a small greenhouse behind it, which is basically filled with all sorts of poisonous plants. 90% of them at least. but who even dares to test the statistics out. the poisonous garden is filled with Lily of the Valley's, Oleanders, Marigolds, Peruvian Lilys, Water Hemlocks, Wolfsbanes, Angel's Trumpets and many more. so better stay away from it. if you value your life that is.

➤ also has a seperate section in his house where he keeps all of his poisonous pets together. anyone walking in might think they just walked into a wild jungle out of the blue. one filled with creatures capable of killing you within minutes.

➤ weirdly enough Ayaan likes polishing and manicuring his nails with the greatest care as if his life depends on them (jk im just exaggerating), he will frequently pick the polish on his nails or simply pick his nails in general if nervous or uncomfortable or even flustered. at least the remaining ones that is. Ayaan is missing 4 nails on his left hand including his thumb, then 2 nails on his right hand, courtesy of the kidnappers. he greatly cherishes his remaining nails. and is therefore always seen wearing black gloves no matter the circumstances. wouldn't wanna scare people off yknow.

➤ for some reason, Ayaan attracts the attention of animals, especially this one time when he and keaton (when they were still alive) chose to explore one of their bases in rome instead of riding in a cab, and he petted a cat he found by chance on the streets and the next thing he knew he became their new god

➤ "he killed me. Father just killed me."

➤ "i feel like i did a really good job, so you should give me overtime compensation and an extra long vacation"

➤ ”ah someone died here? no biggy, i come from varanasi afterall, the city where the world comes to die.”

➤ "i used to have this creed, if you can't trust them, don't use them. if you're gonna use them, trust them."

➤ he is a very llight sleeper. even the lightest creak of a door swinging in the wind is enough to wake him up immediately. therefore seeing him sleep deprived and drinking an unholy concoction of monster drink with vodka and iced coffee isn't uncommon. very rarely will one ever find him heavily asleep.

➤ despite his dyslexia, Ayaan loves reading books, newspapers, magazines and literary works of any kind. he usually prefers to read nonfictional works like autobiographies, even instruction manuals over fictional works because they expose him to more vibrant and useful words, plus providing insight on different real-life events and experiences. sometimes he may read a realistic fiction or two, but that's only if he finds nothing else to read. he’ll usually read them for an hour or two everyday inorder to keep his mind fresh with the knowledge. his favourite book is ‘daughters of the samurai; a journal from east to west and back’.

➤ Ayaan was once addicted to marijuana and smoking, but slowly he got rid of his unhealthy addiction. however he still smokes, although not as bad as he used to. however there are times when he's so stressed that Ayaan will start reverting back to his past self and smoke as many as three packets all at once in a single day. it's surprising how his lungs haven't collapsed yet.

➤ thinks very lowly of people, especially politicians. imagine his surprise and horrow when he was assigned to one. he planned to quit the job for a second there but hesitatingly agreed to the job fot some reason. hmmm…

➤ although he's more of a non violent person (if speaking and humiliating people into submission is anything but), Ayaan won't hesitate to throw hands if he wants to. he's skilled in krav maga, taekwondo and muay thai, courtesy of his father. he will beat the shitz outta you, then mock you by going "why you weak? huh why do weak?"

➤ has an especially soft spot for scalpels and sniper rifles. although he isn't partial towards pick axes and haandguns either.

➤ will look into the eyes, call you the ugliest piece of disgusting wet stale dough then walk away nonchalantly as if he just said that potato chips are made from potatoes.

➤ oranges are his favourite fruits. not because he actually likes it but because he can spray the citric acid in its peel on the eyes of any unfortunate fool who dares invade his personal space.

➤ personality wise, he can be described by the following words. Sophisticated. Quiet. Listless. Calm. Sadistic. Workaholic. Generous. Determined. Dense. Volatile. Sensitive. Ill tempered. Self destructive. (das a lotta worse tho)

➤ has shown multiple signs of psychopathy in the past despite not being a psychopath, including his apparent lack of empathy for those around him and his balant disregard of law. literally he doesn't even bother to remember people's names and only calls them as 'you'. only remembers Nadia's and Ailbhe's name.

➤ as a reciprosexual, Ayaan has never really formed any kind of strong relationship with anyone so far. not even his own family members. he thinks dealing with people is annoying already, and having a significant other isn't even in his list of to-do's before death. therefore he is quite dense. no scratch that, he's so dense light bounces away from him. every time someone tries to flirt with Ayaan or express their feelings for him :

➤ as a child (and adult) Ayaan suffers from an undiagnosed reactive attachment disorder. “a condition in which a child is unable to establish healthy attachment with parental figures or primary caregivers. [...] children with RAD have been so disrupted in early life that their future relationships are also impaired. they may experience difficulty relating to others and are often developmentally delayed.” [source : helpguide.org]

➤ can be VERY VERY petty and vengeful depending on the circumstances. he likes to return the pain back 10 fold worse to those who are unfortunate enough to piss him off.

➤ likes to talk about adult stuff in a pretty anatomically scientific sense. especially about kinks, sex and etc. even though he isn't kinky at all (or is it) he has QUITE the knowledge on it and several more forbidden stuff.

➤ he is NOT a kid friendly person. if a kid were to ask him a question like "how are children made?" he'll gladly give the child a detailed explanation about how sex works and how babies are actually made. mothers especially dislike him. he wonders why, seeing no wrong in it.

➤ can swear like a sailor. and he can rapidly change his cuss words from english to hindi to french within the span of a sentence. and he doesn't give a shit about what others think about him.

➤ one of his biggest pet peeves is people eating his food. he doesnt mind sharing his food with others, but isn't it a common courtesy for people to ask permission before they eat your food? apparently not, and this ticks off Ayaan to no ends. he’ll gladly buy you another meal if you are so hungry, but please don't touch his food without his permission. maybe if you ask nicely he may be willing to share some with you tho

HELLO HELLO 👋 here's my detailed profile on my MC Ayaan :D (@rf-interactive ) he's gonna be paired up with Roman, much to his dismay XD

To those who don't know what it's about, QUICKLY GO AND CHECK OUT RESPICE FINEM BY THEM IT'S SO GOOOOOOOOOOOD

[shegeekery]

Misfits Chapter 3: Graduation

See Chapter 1: Reunion for a description and the full chapter index.

Chapter 3: Graduation

In the morning, Jane returned early to the yard to get in some more practice. The whole thing still felt silly, but she didn’t want to give Loki any excuse to stop training her. By the time he joined her, she was able to keep the balls in the air with very few mistakes. 

Loki nodded his approval and produced a set of wooden juggling clubs, each a little more than a foot long, with the narrow ends contoured much like a dagger hilt. He once again had Jane start with just two of them, showing her how to swing them in an arc to produce just the right amount of spin. Jane caught on quickly this time and had moved on to three clubs before long. At first, she hit herself in the head or nose more often than not, but by midday she pretty much had it down. 

Loki seemed in a better mood today, so she decided to risk some casual conversation. “Is this how you were taught?” she asked.

“Me? No. I just watched a troupe performer doing it and then taught myself one day in a fit of boredom.” He gave a smug, tight-lipped smile. “I was five, maybe six years old. Agility has always been my forte. Well, one of them.”

Jane knew better than to take anything Loki said at face value, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he was telling the truth this time. She decided to push her luck a little further.

“What was it like, growing up in Asgard?”

Loki didn’t respond right away, and she was afraid she’d put her foot in it. She tried to think of something, anything to change the subject, but finally he responded.

“I spent a great deal of time with my mother, learning magic, or reading in my room. Thor was usually with Odin or in the practice yard with the guards or his friends.  I joined them sometimes, but…” He trailed off.

But you always felt like an outsider , Jane thought, but didn’t dare say aloud. She didn’t want to leave it there, though. She sensed that Loki was being uncharacteristically honest in this moment and she wanted to encourage that. 

“You know, Thor was a wreck after you died,” she told him. 

Loki rolled his eyes. “Oh, I’m sure he mourned for hours,” he mumbled and looked away.

“I’m serious.” She stopped juggling the clubs for a moment. “Loki, look at me. Please.” 

He turned toward her again, his face an unreadable mask. She held his gaze and said softly, “Your death broke him. He’d lost your parents and Asgard, his friends, but he was alright until he lost you. Then he just shut down. He kept it together long enough to avenge you —“

Loki looked startled. “Thor avenged me? Heimdall never tells me anything.”

“Yeah — he chopped off Thanos’s head!”

“Good for him.”

“But after that, it was like a part of him died with you. He gave up. For years, until the Avengers needed his help to undo the Snap and bring everybody back. By the time I ran into him again, he was back in the hero business, but he was different. His heart was still shut down, like he was afraid to get too close to anyone.”

Loki didn’t respond, so Jane tried to lighten the mood a bit. “He also had this really hideous tattoo, all over his back.”

The edges of his mouth quirked up slightly. “A tattoo…?”

She described it as best she could. Loki’s unreadable expression returned, but she sensed that he was touched. 

“Then he lost you, too,” he said quietly. 

She nodded. “He… Well, it’s a long story, but just before I died he agreed to adopt a little girl. I think… I hope that will help him.”

“Thor would be a good father. Better than Odin, at least.”

“I’m sure he will be,” Jane agreed. “And something tells me that kid will be a handful, not unlike her uncle.”

Loki grinned in earnest at that. “Here’s hoping. Alright, break time is over.” He produced a black strip of cloth and proceeded to tie it around her head so that it covered her eyes. He had her try to start juggling the clubs again, but she found it too difficult when she couldn’t see them, so he took two of them from her and directed her to simply spin one back and forth between her hands. After a minute, when she was able to do that consistently, he had her go back to two. Finally, he gave her the third and she found that she was able to do it. 

Just as her arms were starting to tire, the blindfold vanished and she looked at what she was doing: juggling three very sharp daggers. She was so startled that she lost control — and very nearly a couple of fingers as well. She laughed as the daggers clattered to the ground.

“Sneaky,” she said, “but effective, I guess.”

He nodded approvingly. “Not bad. Now you’re ready to learn how to use them.”  

They spent the next several days sparring, and in the evenings Jane joined Zev and Rune in the mead hall. Zev mostly talked about the day’s adventures on the battlefield. Rune talked about his research, which currently had to do with some minor differences he’d noticed in how magic functioned in Valhalla. 

One afternoon, she invited Loki to join her and her friends for the evening meal, but he demurred, and Jane was surprised by her own disappointment. She was beginning to understand why Thor still cared so much for his brother even after everything Loki had done. 

“He makes a good show of being above it all, but I think he’s actually really lonely,” she told her friends that evening.

Finally, after a particularly successful session in which Jane mostly managed to hold her own, Loki declared that she was ready to join him on the battlefield the next day. 

“Here, a little graduation gift,” he proclaimed, producing a maroon leather belt with sheaths for her daggers. 

“Oh! Thank you.” Jane took the belt and fastened it around her waist, then sheathed the blades. “And… thanks for teaching me. I know it probably wasn’t how you wanted to spend your time, but I do appreciate it. Your methods are a little unorthodox, but you’re a pretty good teacher.”

Loki smiled and offered his hand for her to shake. She took it, then yelped as he roughly pulled her in and she felt his blade slide in between her ribs. Stunned, she looked down to see the hilt protruding from her chest, then up at him. 

“Final lesson. Never, ever , let your guard down —especially when your opponent is still armed.” He continued to smile and held her upright as she struggled to breathe, still staring up at him in shock. Her vision wavered and darkened, and just before she lost consciousness, she heard him say, “Meet me here in the morning. We’ll go down there together.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

Jane woke up in her own bed. Instinctively, she looked first at her chest. The tunic was still torn and bloodstained, but there was no wound. Phew. It was one thing to be told that she’d simply be resurrected if she died here, but quite another to experience it. The pain had certainly been real. She swung her legs over the side and stood up hesitantly. There was no residual soreness. It was as if Loki had never stabbed her. 

But he did. I should have known. 

To be fair, he did warn me.

She changed into clean clothing, tossing the bloodstained clothes into a small hamper. The belt Loki had given her had dried blood on it, so she threw that in too. Each morning, she would find the previous day’s outfit cleaned and hanging in the closet. She hoped the belt counted as clothing.

Convenient. Wish I’d had a magic hamper in grad school.

Valhalla’s sun was dipping lower, but there was still some time before supper. She didn’t seem to have any blood on her, but a nice hot bath was definitely in order. Her bathroom was huge, with an elaborately carved marble tub. She filled it with hot water and slipped in with a sigh.

Leaning her head back against the tub, she let her mind simply dissociate for a while, trying to dislodge the memory of Loki killing her. She didn’t want to dwell on it, particularly since she would be spending at least the next day with him. Instead, she mentally replayed their conversation from earlier in the day. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that Thor’s grief was both a complete surprise and a comfort to Loki. 

That’s really sad. To believe that your own family doesn’t care about you, even when they do — and it’s not like he has friends to turn to either.   

Eventually, she hauled herself out of the tub, dried off, and inspected the closet. She felt like celebrating tonight, so she opted for an Asgardian gown and silk slippers instead of her usual tunic, trousers, and boots. 

The “Mighty Thor” armor caught her eye and she decided she would wear that in the morning. If the belt was cleaned, she could fasten it on over the armor. It hit her for the first time that the color of the belt matched her armor. Had Loki actually put some thought into the gift?

Just as she was ready to go, someone knocked on the door, startling her. She hadn’t had any visitors since that first morning when Frigga came to collect her. She opened the door to find Zev and Rune standing in the hallway. 

“Hi! We heard you died today and just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Zev said. “It can be kinda unnerving. I didn’t want to leave my room the first time it happened to me, but Rune here dragged me out.”

Jane laughed. “I think I’m good. Honestly, I’m glad it happened now. I’m joining the battle tomorrow and at least I’ll go in knowing what to expect.”

Wait. Was that why he did it? 

“You finished training? That’s wonderful news!” Rune rushed forward to give her a quick hug, then stepped back when he noticed her gown. “Oh, um, that’s a different look for you, isn’t it?”

“I just wanted to relax and forget about fighting for one night.”

Rune grinned. “I think this counts as a special occasion. Let’s do something different tonight! I’m friends with some of the kitchen staff — I can get us a basket of food and drink and we can go somewhere and make a picnic of it. I know the perfect spot.”

Jane and Zev readily agreed.

“Right. I’ll be back in a few minutes, then we can go.”

Rune was as good as his word and returned shortly carrying a large woven basket. At his suggestion, Jane took a blanket from the bed for them to sit on. 

They set off, Rune leading the way along a path that wound and climbed through the craggy rocks surrounding the compound, emerging finally into a small clearing with a gorgeous view of the enclave, the gate bridge, and the sunset. Jane spread the blanket out on a bed of soft moss, and the three friends settled down to eat. They talked about their lives before Valhalla, and for the first time since she arrived, Jane felt almost like a normal, living person.

------------------------------------------------------------------

In the morning, she donned her armor and met Loki in the practice yard. She’d been pleasantly surprised to find that the belt Loki had given her was now incorporated into the suit itself, with a pair of daggers already sheathed and ready. 

As they walked down to the field, Loki gave her some last-minute instructions. They would work as a team and guard each others’ backs. 

“Well, as long as you last, that is,” Loki added. “It’s too much to hope that you’ll survive the day.”

Jane was feeling more optimistic. “This isn’t my first battle, you know. I’ll be fine.”

Loki grinned. “Care to make a small wager?”

Jane considered. “Alright, if I survive the day, you have to eat in the mead hall with me tonight.”

Loki gave her a shrewd, calculating look. “And if you don’t?”

Jane was at a loss. What could she possibly offer that would interest him?

“Tell you what,” he said. “If you die, you owe me a favor, as yet unspecified.”

She eyed him suspiciously. That sort of arrangement with tricksters never ended well in stories.

Loki sighed. “Nothing that will get you into trouble, and nothing of, shall we say, an overly personal nature.” 

He chuckled when Jane’s reaction made it clear that she hadn’t even considered that possibility. “I assure you, I don’t share my brother’s taste in dalliances.”

“Deal,” she said, and hastened to add “And no fair killing me yourself — or failing to watch my back. Do that, and you forfeit.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Go to Chapter 4

[istherewifiinhell]

[Chin in my hand. tilting head back in forth] no its just like. is anyone else a sicko enough to watch that tf 86 without me telling u more about it.... its only an hour 25. took me like 3 cause. im Unwell. this is the emotion they gave kids in the 80s isnt it. what in the god damn. what did they put in this shit...

Okay well i dont actually care what other people do but a lot of what im getting out of this is based on. knowing only meagerly more than if i was there when it was happening. so. thats the angle.

okay the most important thing i could lead with its not flashing light free. unfortunate tho unsurprising

how to get into this... what im. doing here. is i think entrusting myself to the absurd. and letting myself go with it. and how much i can care (the answer is usually. very much). so. this installment:

Transformers: The Movie. 1986. what is it?

It's 80s kid's movie shit. Aggressively so. pure. saturated. 80 proof. directly into my brain stem. And I'm a fucking sicko for it.

It is... the movie that is technically based on the 84-87 show. I mean. it is that. Its the same world, its the same continuity…. i assume. I had to watch it before starting season 3. What awaits me there, I do not know.

It is also the hypothetical "he is so outside of the original scope of the material the text no longer offers guidance on whether or not He would fucking say that".

…I exaggerate but the movie is... different enough in tone and situation, and but of course, character cast, that it's more in the realm of value add to seen the show than. Necessity. The cross over characters with the most screen time are, I think, the dino bots. and i love the dino bots. but, you get their gist.

was new toy opportunities: (characters, accessories, locations for play sets), obviously.

What I knew going in was: that its better animated. darker. and that characters…. Die!

so in general what i expected to see, and did receive

new lore: the shit keeps popping outta the ground anytime they have to readdress the transformers home planet, cybertron. even in the show. just suddenly. randomly. take some [conflicting to previous examples] lore.

general kid movie tropes and goofing

… the character death thing. more on that later

I'll touch on animation. cause. ofc. for context. im sicko. im. silly guy but. people aren't lying about the show's animation quality. that sort of thing doesn't bother me so much, but more than just. looking jank. It also effects like editing and shot/scene construction it a way that can be. noticeable to jarring. so the movie is a treat cause its not just a upgrade to theatrical animation (which. when considering comparable weight classes, just IS gonna be a step up from television) but on top of that you just get overall better flow and continuity.

BUT that, does not exclude it from old kids movie WILD tone/scene swings. From fun goofy action, to the horrors, to main plot action, to grief, to funny comedic bit characters. It is, I imagine, exactly as it intends to be… and I fault it not an iota. It's very funny to me to just. experience it and let that happen. Especially considering its still delivering on cool ass scifi visuals, just big beautiful impossible machinery, and nice action scenes even when being goofy as shit.

The easiest thing to mention I did NOT expect. the soundtrack. hol lee shittttt. the synths are hitting, the guitars are shredding, old rock men are crooning. like think of the phil collin's disney movies. times. a thousand. a million. I'm listening to right now writing this. Bangers.

SO that's I think, my vaguest recommendation for the movie. Fun to look at and listen to, big robot aliens face adversity and strange situations and hopefully come out on top to the killer score. I'm a simple man. Do experience childlike wonder from time to time. And regardless I really just enjoy the amusement I get from corny shit.

Specifics

Setting: So this is not the world state of the show, of two battling forces stationed in headquarters on earth foiling each other. They do this with a time skip as denoted by the resident human character, Spike, now having a son!

This future state of affairs has "new cybertron", a city on earth. I really like that, its a good vibe for like, aliens are real, they're here and some are our friends (and also maybe. losing the war on their home planet. just a tad). And equally cool vibe, our bots have two moon bases, (their moons, not ours), hunkering down as more rebellious force, than an equal power. And this is where most of the classic show characters are stationed. Including Spike, in a transforming mech suit. That's just fun.

Lore/Plot: Were the robots in disguise not weird enough for you? Okay, how's this. A giant robotic planet eater (is a robot and eats robotic planets specifically it seems). Voiced by Orson Welles.... OKAY. So, incalculable powerful? Pretty much, but there's one thing he's weak to.

The matrix. No, not that one. This Matrix is a big, glowy. thing. That the leader of the autobots carries. It's said to. Light the way in darkness, and has something to do with... "Till are are one" or becoming one with it when you die? Unclear. Its magic, its good, its only for the pure of heart. Etc. Antithesis to big robot planet eaters, I guess. It also uh. confers… prime-ness? No never mind how the show said Optimus Prime was just a normal smaller guy and then got built back different. Magic Box.

Tone/Story: so ive dragged it on long enough. if you've heard of this movie. this is probably why. they KILL CHARACTERS! There getting shot, murdered, general, combat things. Also execution. And being planet eaten. Those sick action sequences to even sicker jams. As your beloved toys are slaughtered. Notably Optimus and Megatron have it out, for real for real. Primes grievously wounded, Megatron's fucked up after falling SEVERAL stories. Which leads to leadership change on both sides. Cause, prime fucking DIES! DEATHBED SCENE! Dad of the autobots, gone. Countless children, traumatized. And this adult in 2023, moved, also.

And Megatron? Instead of dying surround by loved ones, gets picked up by the planet eater. Is it a Faustian deal if your options are "work for me and destroy the magic box of power. Or die an agonizing death"? The deal also nets him a forced rebuild, new name, and... being voiced by Leonard Nimoy for the rest of the film? New game plus Megatron goes a bit harder than original flavour, killing Starscream (Rip baby girl your coronation outfit was nice). Though it does not totally subsume his character, just any time he tries to get out of it, and even wanting to team up with the heroes, the robot god turns on the agonizing death mode again. Cowabummer, dude.

THE SILLIES: This might sound like a crazy thing OR you might be well versed in the art of kids movie yourself and get this picture. Those are some pretty GRIM and heady details I pulled out. But, did I mention there's a weird al song in this? You couldn't find a better thesis statement than it's title: Dare to be Stupid. It's fucking dance parties with. australian? junk bots "batteries not included" style speaking in TV commercial gimmick characters. There's some little freak who speaks in rhymes. The hero of this movie is called HOT ROD. He's almost executed by being fed to robot sharks. But hes not, because the DINO BOTS come save him :D.

So i'm saying, if people have this idea that you can only come to old kids media if you were there. Cause, the nostalgia and history you have. You like remembering confronting serious emotions as a kid, characters that find the will to go on. To be brave and kind. And the enjoyment outta sick fights and crying cause it was too sad. And everything else is just the baggage. Dead weight.

Well, I dunno! I still like it! I can see the animation errors (of course there still there, do you know how many drawing make up a movie?) But I also like cell animation were you see the smudges. There's annoying characters, there's jarring needle drops. There's... baw weep gran nah weep ni ni bong. But. Movies can be good AND be stupid. You don't gotta choose between only completely sincere first order enjoyment, or ironic amusement. I wanna do the secret third thing. And, so, I'll be out here acting a fool! And I'll have a good time.

I think, in general, I really like being surprised by media. And I know how to expect bad media. I did not know how to expect this, though. This beautiful mess. This lovely thing. It has fed my heart and soul. Cause it's fun.

[trufflemacandcheese]

The curse

Chapterlist

#15

"And then Raph gave one last swing and through the hole Donnie and the girl slid! We thought she was dead, Pops! DEAD!" Splinter held onto his chair, it was always a roller coaster listening to Mikey talk about an adventure, ” and Donnie was a complete mess – he was totally spaced out! And so we just stood there shocked! It was bad! I thought he was going to cry! REALLY CRY! But fortunately, she wasn't dead after all – and now she will hopefully be well cared for by April's friends in the hospital…"

“And who do you have to thank for that? MOI!” Leo exclaimed as he entered the room where they always watched their series. 

Raph, Splinter and Mikey turned their heads towards him and the red one rolled his eyes.

"Where's Donnie? And April? Is everything ok?" Mikey asked, still worried about Donnie. His condition had frightened him greatly.

"Yes, yes. Everything okay. La chica misteriosa is fine. Donnie puts her somewhere where she can sleep. April's doctor guy said she will make it – we should keep her warm and feed her pain pills. Whoa. THAT was a night, I tell you! I'm hungry! Let me know when Donnie shows up, and he clears up all this mess! I don't want to miss ANYTHING of this story!" and he threw his swords aside and started looking for some food.

Mikey and Raph looked at each other and got up to look for Donnie and give him his Bo. Splinter picked up the remote and started his series – the story was wild, but hadn't the boys seen wilder ones…? — Donnie went into his room, followed by April. He briefly wished back his old room, where his bed was a giant heat pod. She wouldn't freeze in that one. Unfortunately, it was completely destroyed by Shredder at the time. But all in all, he liked his subway train room better.

He went straight to his bed and carefully laid her down. She moved slightly, but didn't wake up. After briefly reassuring himself that she was still asleep, he raised his left arm and activated his gauntlet. He tapped, and a hologram appeared, which formed into a flat, round capsule and manifested in the air. The turtle grabbed it without hesitation. It was cool and smooth and the size of his palm. April stood half behind him and watched with interest. The boys have gotten older, and their skills have continued to develop.

Donnie now took the capsule between his fingers and held it over the young woman's chest. Now the little thing came back to life, shining transparently again and changing its shape, which lay like a second, glowing skin around the woman's chest, and disappeared under the hoodie. After that, several semi-transparent displays appeared in the air at the level of Donnie's head. They showed pulse, body temperature, blood pressure, oxygen saturation and a few other parameters that April didn't know. Satisfied, Donnie studied the medical values. They were stable. Then he swiped the big displays into his gauntlet, where they now hovered over his wrist, much smaller, before disappearing inside. He felt the flame and secretly knows, that perhaps there was no need to monitor her. The flame seemed to be a reliable indicator as well, if he was able to pay attention to it.

But for now, so does his mystic tech and better safe than sorry.

April was impressed and knew: Gathering data was one of Donnie's ways of calming down.

"Neat" she said. He smiled. He was always pleased to receive compliments about his work.

"Thanks. Now I can keep an eye on her vitals and be alerted immediately if anything unusual occurs. It's a really ingenious system that works with electrical impulses through the skin. The skin is really a fascinating organ, which presumably tells us everything about our bodily functions. I will…"

He stopped his oversharing outburst and looked down at her. Then he grabbed the blanket at the foot end and covered her over. She stirred and pulled her right hand out from under the blanket and let it rest next to her head. Her very wavy hair had dried and was now lying wildly on the pillow and framing her face. She breathed calmly and evenly.

April and Donnie stood there looking down at her.

"She is beautiful." April said through an impulse without thinking.

"Yes." Donnie replied quietly and swallowed, "she is."

It was only now that he fully realized that she was saved. That he hadn't lost her and that she was safe here. With him. He felt the emotions of the past few hours surging, and his legs suddenly gave out. He slowly slumped to the floor next to the bed and grabbed the edge of the mattress. Head bowed, Donatello fought back tears.

"Oh, Donnie!" whispered April, surprised by the unexpected outburst of emotion. She squatted down next to him and put her hand gently on his arm.

"She saved my life, April." he whispered as he stared at the floor, "and she was willing to sacrifice her own life for mine and almost… almost…" his voice broke.

April looked again at the sleeping young woman, who was nearly face leveled now, and remembered the scars on her body. The two different tattoos. Who was she? “What's her Name?” she asked carefully.

“I… I don't know.” the turtle answered with a sudden pain in his voice. “She could have died today for me, and I didn’t even know her name.” The memory of her lying lifeless in his arms and he was unable to call her name ripped him apart, and he began to tremble.

“Donnie…” April looked at the door where Mikey and Raph were standing. Their faces full of compassion. How long have they been there?

They came in, and let the Bo stayed in the doorway. Mikeys knelt beside his brother and Raph behind him, and they hugged him tightly. Donnie crumpled up the covers, and his tense body only allowed him to breathe shakily. He didn't say anything, but after a few moments, he calmed down and grabbed his brother's arms to squeezed them in return. "I think we should start collecting data." said April and looked over at the plastic bag she had placed on the floor by the door. Raph and Mikey let go of Donnie, who sent a faint smile to April.

-

-

-

chapterlist

Find the full book on Wattpad and AO3

[unknownjpegs]

property value

The house comes with an original blueprint, which is nice. There’s some stuff he doesn’t feel comfortable doing alone, so it’s good to have when he needs to bring in an expert. 

An expert meaning his dad’s old friend Jim, a retired contractor who offers to help him out if he can pay upfront. And if he’ll let Jim take some original brass dresser knobs that catch his eye.

“You see your old man lately?” Jim asks him, while they’re working in tandem to knock an old wall out.

Benji pauses mid-swing, wipes the sweat off his forehead. Gives Jim a look, one of the ones the old man is used to seeing from him since childhood. He puts both hands up in surrender. 

“A’right, lad, a’right. On yer own time, whenever that might be.” He swings, and plaster flies.

“It’ll be soon,” Benji admits, but he thinks that might be lost in the loud thunk of the next blow. 

It’s near sunset when they’ve managed to get the project done. When the frame of the wall is all that’s left standing, they take a break. Pints in hand, some shit swill from a fancy brewery out near Speke that Saha recommended.

“Shit swill,” Benji offers.

“Aye, well, don’t be snide about it, lad.” He takes another gulp, grimaces with more than a bit of regret. “Bet they put their best piss n’here, lotta hard work went in. Big stream.” 

Benji snickers. “We’ll find somethin’ better for phase two, ‘ey?” 

“Drive me to water, at this rate.” Jim says with a shake of his head. “You sure you wanna g’on? We can just fix ‘er up inside here.”

“I’m sure.”

“Load bearin’ wall on the other side, if we take this one. Can’t undo it, mate. Knocking’ a hole few feet off that little study.” Jim hedges. “M’not trying to steer y’off, just…it’s a historic house, Benji. You’re losin’ a lot of value with less room, just for this.”

Just for this, Benji thinks grumpily, eyebrow pulling. It’s not for nothing. 

“Always wanted one of those big fuckers,” Benji says, stepping over to the sawhorse where they’ve laid out the blueprints. 

“N’here I go reportin’ back to your old man, lad’s doin’ great, throwing orgies in his posh fuckin’ pool of a bath.” 

“Do not,” Benji laughs, “Tell my fuckin’ pa that there are orgies happening. He’ll disown me for that over the military shit.”

Jim puts his hands up in surrender. “Listen, lad, what else am I meant to assume?”

*

When the bathroom’s done, tiled and wet-sealed and clean, Benji leads him up the rickety stairs — still gotta get those nails replaced —  shrouded in a blindfold. 

“This is a sex thing,” Xavier chuckles, hands out to catch himself on corners he’s not yet used to. “You keep telling me it’s not, but I can see right through your fuckin’ plan. Succubus.” 

“It’s not. And aren’t the ones with dicks incubus,” Benji asks, genuinely thoughtful about it. “Incubi?”

“Dunno,” Xavier says, oof when he knocks against the bathroom door. “Never listened to them much.” 

When the blindfold comes off and he sees the bath, Benji assumes it’s the excitement of a kid on Christmas. Never personally experienced that, but Xavier’s got the hyped-up gasp, the jittery ball of energy. His eyes bounce between it and Benji, question there. Benji grins, and it’s barely stretched his mouth before Xavier’s flung himself over the side. 

Benji would reach for his phone and take a picture, if he hadn’t left it down on the couch. 

“Oh, shit,” Xavier yells, the triumphant cry echoing off new tile. His sneakers squeak at the end of the tub, and he’s gotta sink real low, chin dipping under the edge, to get his toe even near under the faucet. 

“Man,” he’s proper laughing, excitement lighting him up from the inside out. Benji can’t stop fucking grinning, so wide his cheeks are starting to ache. “I don’t even have to tuck my knees or anything.” 

“You shoulda seen us trying to get it up the stairs. Had to knock out the wall and take the door to get it to fit in here.” 

Xavier stops kicking his feet. Looks over at him, arm flung over the edge of the bath. “House didn’t come with a tub, huh? What kinda country is this. Very backwards, no wonder Brits smell.”

Benji sticks his tongue out. “It came with a bath,” he corrects, “You wanker. Real small one.”

Two big hands push up on the ceramic edge. Xavier looks very serious now, his eyebrow bunched and mouth open.

“You had this put in?” 

Benji nods, shrugging a little sheepishly and breaking eye contact. “Sure.” 

“For me?”

“Would you believe s’for the other six-something Yank who lives in the house?”

“No,” Xavier breathes, eyes wide. “Get over here before I drag you in.”

And he can’t really say no to that, can he? Not big enough for an orgy, but Benji fits with room to spare.

[wiria-lae]

Post-Exam Discussion

The construction of magic is as important as its conception.

Notes:

This is a conversation between RSA OCs Cobalt and Maka. Cobalt is based on the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland, with Maka inspired by Gaia from Greek mythology.

There are mentions of alcohol and drinking. The characters are of age (legal drinking age in this world is based on British drinking laws).

"Never gettin' outta the streets," She says. She's holding a bottle of something that smells vaguely like liquor and looks like piss, but Cobalt knows if it really was alcoholic then she'd at least share.

"Mm. You'll be fine." Cobalt settles on those words, rather than saying: you've lived on those streets your whole life, nothing is going to change.

"Ain't gonna make it out." Maka takes another sip (what is it, seriously, she's drinking so much of it) and groans. "Nah. Should've guessed on the exam. Would've gotten a higher score than this bull."

On the table are Maka's finals: unsurprisingly all sub-80, with a glaring exception in the written portion of the practical magic exam, sitting at a score of 23.

"Try studying next time." Cobalt points at the outlier. "You know this. I know you know this. You should've gotten higher marks."

The thing is, Cobalt thinks, as he glances at Maka taking another swing at her drink - the thing is, it's true. Plain and simple. Maka should've done better. Maka could've done better. But Maka didn't do better.

It's no secret that Maka is incredibly gifted with magic, as if Twisted Wonderland breathes it into her despite her being 100% human. All magic comes easy to her to the point of boredom. In turn, Maka passes all practical exams with flying colors, and fails to understand the function behind application. For Maka, the means to the end are waived.

"Wha's even the point," she slurs, slamming down the bottle, "my magic reserves are broken. My stamina's brutal." Said bottle is almost empty by now, and dangerously close to her waving arms.

"I," Maka declares, elbow barely missing the bottle as she points aggressively at the offending paper, "can do so fucking much. Practical magic theorems are stupid. I can do the damn magic. I don't need this."

"There is nothing that is impossible between Heaven and Earth," Cobalt quotes, "but that doesn't mean we're boundless on the borders."

Maka stares wordlessly. Cobalt sighs. "Learn the theorems," he says. "Even if it's stuff that comes intuitively to you, there's still value in understanding why the magic works."

"I know it works, smartass," she says. "That's good enough."

"But you don't know how or why," Cobalt replies, "so you won't be able to guarantee when it won't."

"You sound like Sir Edmund," Maka rolls her eyes. "It's fine, seriously. That's what we're friends for. You'll keep me in check."

Cobalt says nothing as she stretches, standing, then waving, and making her way out the door. "Doesn't matter. I'm done complaining. You can tell my teachers that I heard you out, I might even try some more in class when I show up, or whatever, I don't care. I'm gonna take a nap."

Cobalt rises, beginning to say "At least take back your exams-" but by then, the sound of Maka's heels clicking against the floor takes his willpower to chase after her away. He sits with a sigh.

Cleaning up the table isn't hard - he shoves everything in a folder, organizing based on Maka's class schedule. The cap for the mystery drink is nowhere to be found, so Cobalt takes a sniff before shrugging and finishing off the rest of the mysterious liquid. Apple cider, he thinks, before a slight, pleasant heat follows down behind his throat. Hm. It's mixed with something.

Mental note for the future: get Maka to share next time.

[tsukiyon]

I'm trying to keep myself so hard since it is literally fiction and not real but there is insanely toxic people in Akayona fandom, it is hard to ignore them after some point. I don't even care about getting bashed by the whole fandom at this point, i love Yona and i'm not a big fan of neither Hak or Soo-won nor the romance in series so block me if you are uncomfortable with that. This fandom has stupid double standards when it comes to only Yona and Yona ONLY, no matter what she does she is always the worst character just because she is a female protagonist and some people trying to hide behind "meaningful"(!) excuses for hating her is even funnier.

The dragons got their powers from dragon gods which means they are semi-gods, yet we don't see them beating up the villain for at least once. Kija swings his hand for a second, Jaeha breaks the ground with his foot for ONCE and they are already done. Shin-ah is already useless once he uses his eyes and look; Zeno, who is supposed to be the strongest character, a goddamn immortal yet we have never seen him ACTUALLY fighting ever. Yet, look at Hak who is a DEADLY wounded HUMAN in latest war but he doesn't die no matter what happens, instead he kills the whole ass army? On his own?? Honestly i won't be suprised at this point if it gets revealed that if Hak is immortal and stronger than Zeno. And then Yona kicking a man just for once after days of training and that becomes "unrealistic", of course, i mean it is Yona and not Hak.

I don't remember if it is ever mentioned in manga that Soo-won studied things such as politics or wars. Nor he was even worked as governor for training like how usually happened in history. And yet, in Fire Tribe Arc where he had literally 0 experience he already won a war. Don't get me wrong, i believe some people has intelligent mind about some certain topics that they are suited to do naturally but it is weird how it was obvious that Yona wasn't even going to lead the army, she was going there just for the needed support due to Soo-won's condition and people already started to shitting about her before the war even started, nobody gave her a chance and waited her to "experience" whereas no one had a problem when the same happened to Soo-won.

I don't have time to reread manga and i don't like talking about these kind of things either since i'm more of the type of person to use fiction as a way of inspiring and expressing myself. Akatsuki No Yona isn't perfectly written however i still loved it, because how it focuses on the suffering of those people who are waiting desperately for someone to hear their voices and how influentially it conveys their emotions despite being a fictional series with fantasy elements. Yona is a special character for me because she inspired and made me a much better person when i was still a fresh teenager who couldn't find any value in living and had no idea about how to find courage in myself and live for other people. So that is why i genuinely can't understand it, how people can constantly keep hating on Yona when she literally just breathes. She appears in a panel and the fandom is already like "STUPID YONQAA BOHOGOASHH YOU DON'T SHOW YOUR LOVE TO HAK AND YOU BREATJED THE SAME AIR AS SOO WON 😡😡 YOU B*TCH" I have even seen somebody stubbornly keep repeating that Hak is underrated and gets the most hate in fandom. Lol, no. The most hated character is Soo-won, followed by Yona.

I've written this to get rid of the stress inside of me after seeing a toxic *i usually hate using this word but honestly they deserve at this point* Hak stan on Kusanagi's Twitter again. I didn't care at allback then when i saw them in a platform for the first time and thought they just like a character probably because of special reasons just like how i love Yona but no, they are calling themselves a Hakyona fan yet never stops shitting on Yona because she doesn't show love to Hak enough. They even said Yona is fine about being engaged to Soo-won...? Look, i don't even care about the romance in manga, but this really sounds like a joke and i'm questioning if we are reading the same manga. You can like romance or simp for your favorite male characters HOWEVER obviously, if they aren't the main priority in this manga, stop hating on a fictional female character whenever she breathes, it is not normal. I don't even understand how you can ship the very special love of your life with a character you hate to death. I actually even think it is because they see Yona as self insert at this point lol. Yona has her own character so if you want to see her smooching with Hak 24/7, go write your own reader fanfics and make fanarts of yourself and Hak. Calling her Mary Sue or "perfect" then hating her for not being "perfect" and having normal human traits doesn't make any sense at all. She is not only just an 16 year old girl trying to stand on her own feets after losing both of her parents, but also someone that is trying to be light of hope for her people despite already having enough issues for herself. I'm not even talking about how the family she found after losing everything she had, passed off her condition by saying things like "Yona is strong, she can do it" when she was suffering with her trauma all alone in castle.

Hak is an adult man, not a child. Yes, they are a couple but they can't flirt 24/7 for the sake of your stupid fantasies that craves nothing other than cringe romance, especially when the manga is built on a fantasy world that focuses on serious topics from real life.

[free-pool-trash]

x of swords - george weasley

part one of three

Summary: Growing up as Harry’s neighbor, you always believed that you were completely regular. In an attempt to feel closer to Harry (your best friend) you begin to dabble in the art of divination and, in the process, you uncover magic that you didn’t know you had. (i hate doing summaries this does not sum it up but you get the jist)

Relationships: George Weasley x Reader, platonic!Harry Potter x Reader, platonic!OC x Reader, platonic!Sirius Black x Reader, platonic!Remus Lupin x Reader, platonic!Fred Weasley x Reader, platonic!Nymphadora Tonks x Reader, platonic!Molly Weasley x Reader, platonic!Hermoine Granger x Reader, Sirius Black x Remus Lupin

Warnings: Swearing, anxiety, fluff, angst, mentions of torture, mentions of death (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word count: 22.9k 

so here it is 😏 i was going to wait until i was completely finished with this to post it but i didn’t wanna rush it and oh my god it’s already so long  😫 I’m moving to Edinburgh in 2 weeks so i won’t be able to write as i have so much to pack so i hope this keeps some of you happy for a while <3 obviously i put a lot of effort into this and spent a lot of time on it so i really hope yall like it and i will personally kiss everyone who comments. likes or reblogs <3

mastelist

Life on Privet Drive was definitely something- something being incredibly boring. Nothing even remotely exciting happened on the street and the company was, to put it simply, miserable.

You’d lived in 5 Privet Drive since birth which, unfortunately for you, meant that your family are extremely close with the Dursleys who live next door. The Dursleys are a family of bigoted, pig-headed bullies. Made up of Petunia, Vernon, Dudley and, in your opinion the only tolerable one, Harry.

From the age of five, Harry had been your only friend on the street and vice versa. Initially, the both of you had bonded over your dislike of Dudley but as the years rolled on Harry and yourself had become virtually inseparable.

It was certainly strange- how close your parents were with Petunia and Vernon. Your mother and father are actually quite lovely, they are the complete opposite of the Dursleys, they’re open minded, kind and extremely friendly. But, you supposed, their friendliness didn’t discriminate from person to person, even if said person forced their orphaned nephew to sleep in the cupboard underneath the stairs.

There was no denying that Harry had been miserable with the Dursleys, who were unfortunately his only remaining family and you supposed you should’ve been happy when your best friend finally got away from them after his 11th birthday.

You’d missed him for the entire school year and you only got a chance to ask where he’d actually gone off to when he’d arrived home for the summer. (You didn’t believe the story Vernon had spun about Harry attending a boarding school for juvenile trouble makers).

“It’s incredible, (Y/n), honestly! I wish you could be there too.” He’d told you when you finally saw him again, after he’d finished his first year in his mysterious boarding school.

“That’s great, Haz, but where exactly is it?” You wondered and Harry only gave you his signature grin.

“Scotland.”

With a heavy sigh you let the subject go, he was clearly happy wherever he was going to school so it didn’t matter where or what it was. As long as he was happy.

By the time his 12th birthday rolled around you’d found the perfect gift for him. You’d made your parents buy you a polaroid camera for him to take away to school, he’d told you so many amazing stories about his school, you wanted to see some of it for yourself so you figured a camera would be the best course of action.

The morning of his birthday, Harry was woken up by the sound of pebbles tapping against his barred up window. The boy looked out to see you waving at him, an excited smile on your face and a neatly wrapped present in your other hand. Harry couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face as you beckoned him down with your hand. It was barely dawn but you knew better than to give a present for Harry to either his aunt or uncle because they’d only give it to Dudley, so it was best to get it to him before the rest of his supposed family woke up.

Hogwarts was amazing and Harry was over the moon to have discovered he was a wizard and make so many new friends, but he had missed you- his only friend in the muggle world. Your birthday was only a few weeks after his and he hoped that maybe you’d get a hogwarts letter of your own, obviously that hadn’t happened. Nonetheless he was happy to see you in the summer, he couldn’t shake the thought that Ron and Hermione would have loved to meet you though.

Slowly and quietly, Harry snook down the stairs and out the front door to meet you.

“Happy birthday, Haz!” You whisper-shouted excitedly, pulling the green-eyed boy into your house so he wouldn’t get caught outside when he wasn’t even allowed out of his bedroom.

Harry rolled his eyes at the nickname, “I hope you know that you’re still the only person who calls me that.”

“Good,” you said happily, closing the front door behind you. “Anyway, I got you something that you can bring away to school with you!” He rose an eyebrow at you as you pushed the carefully wrapped box into his hands, “Open it,” you instructed. And so he did.

It was very possibly the most expensive gift he’d ever gotten, you (or your parents) usually got Harry presents that couldn’t be stolen by Dudley. For example, your mother had taken to buying Harry his own clothes, seeing as your best friend was a lot taller and thinner than his horrid cousin.

You, on the other hand, would usually make him gifts with sentimental value, something Dudley had absolutely zero interest in. The camera though, you knew would be safe as Harry would be leaving for school again soon enough.

Harry stared dumbfounded at the cardboard box that held the rather large polaroid camera, judging by the image on the box it was a good quality thing, probably expensive. “This is… really nice, (Y/n).”

A bright smile found your lips as you rushed into an animated explanation about why you’d picked a camera as his birthday present this year.

“So you can take lots of pictures of you and your new friends in your new fancy private school and when you come back here you can show them to me!” Harry chuckled and nodded his head, hoping he’d be able to find time to take pictures like you wanted.

“I’ll take pictures of everything. Promise.” He told you, holding out his pinky with a cheeky grin. You linked your pinky with his and nodded gratefully.

“We should christen it,” Harry announced, tearing into the box and he quickly set the camera up before he pointed it at you expectantly. “Well, come on then. I’ve told my school friends all about you, they’re going to want to see what you look like too. So, smile-“ with a disbelieving laugh, you crossed your legs underneath yourself from where you were sitting on the floor across from Harry, and tucked your hair behind your ears before you looked directly at the lense of the camera and gave it the brightest smile you could muster. The camera flashed and the picture slowly revealed itself, it seemed to be good enough to satisfy Harry’s twelve year old self.

He’d shown the polaroid to Hermione first, the bushy haired girl had smiled softly as she held the polaroid gently, “She seems lovely, Harry.”

Harry had nodded his head in agreement, you were lovely. He just hoped Dudley wasn’t terrorising you too much while he was away. His cousin always had somewhat of a crush on you, which Harry knew was ridiculous considering you all but loathed Dudley.

True to his word, Harry had taken plenty of pictures, many were of (non-magic) areas of the Hogwarts campus, many were of his friends; Ron, Hermione, Fred and George Weasley (who had an absolute field day with the muggle contraption), one or two of Hagrid and he even managed to capture a nice one of the owlery. Although you were one of his best friends, sometimes thinking about you while he was in Hogwarts brought his mood down. It reminded him of how much he wished you could’ve shared in his adventures and not to mention how much he missed you, you could hardly send him an owl, what with being a muggle and all, so he only got to spend time with you during the summer months.

Things had changed during his third year, though. When he received a rather shocking, albeit very welcome, letter.

Dear Harry,

I’d like to start by saying: hi, how are you? How’s school? Good? Great. Now that that’s out of the way… when you come home I’m going to KILL you!!! I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you are a wizard! Well, I understand why you didn’t but anyway.

You’re probably wondering how I found all of this out. Long story short, I saw Vernon’s sister floating around your sitting room and then I saw you running out swinging a wand around. I put two and two together. You would not believe how long it took me to figure out how to get in contact with you. I practically had to beg Dudley to tell me how to get this package to you, he eventually told me how in exchange for a kiss on the cheek. It was as horrifying as it sounds, the things I do for you, Haz, honestly. Don’t worry though, you can make it up to me over the summer.

I bought an owl by the way. I’m guessing she found you okay? Look after her for a little while before sending her back will you? She’s just a baby so she can’t do too much long distance travel just yet.The lady I got her from is a witch, she was very kind and knew exactly what I was looking to use an owl for. Her name is Astra (the owl’s not the lady’s)! Isn’t she lovely?

Moving on from that, I felt bad forcing you to send me pictures and getting nothing in return so I have decided to very kindly grace you with my exhilaratingly normal life. You will also find I sent you some of those sweets you like.

Tell Ron and Hermione that I said hi! Oh and Fred and George too! Get into lots of trouble for me ;) I suppose I better stop rambling now, sorry about that I’m just excited (and i might be missing you… just a tiny bit!)

Write back to me soon, if you can! Tell Astra I’m proud of her for making her first delivery! (give her plenty of treats for me yeah?)

I’ll let you get back to your wizardy stuff now, Haz.

Lots of love,

(Y/n) xoxo

P.s. your magical secret is safe with me. promise.

Harry looked up from your letter with a dazed smile, your new little owl was looking at him expectantly, no doubt awaiting her treat, “Good job, Astra. Your owner says she’s very proud of you,” he informed her, handing her a piece of bacon from his breakfast plate and laughed when she hooted happily.

Astra is a gorgeous little tawny, she has brown and white feathers that were fluffy to the touch. Harry could already tell she was well suited to you though, she was friendly as anything with the most curious eyes he’d ever seen.

“Whose it from?” Ron grunted from beside him, munching happily on his huge breakfast.

Harry let out a short laugh, digging into the envelope to pull out the photos and sweets you’d sent, “(Y/n).”

“I thought she didn’t know about you?” Hermione asked from beside Ron, Harry only shrugged.

“She figured it out. She’s quite clever, I think you’d like her Hermione. She says hi by the way.” He answered somewhat distantly, distracted by the pictures you’d sent, all of which had writing on the backs. He paused on one photo, he guessed one of your parents had taken it, you were stood in the woods, surrounded by trees with a huge smile on your face, your eyes were closed and your nose was scrunched up as a very tiny Astra seemed to be nibbling at your ear affectionately.

“I’m sure we’d get along, I admire her determination, really. And she even bought an owl?” The girl questioned, reaching over and petting Astra gently.

Harry’s smile was gentle as Astra hopped onto his shoulder, “Yeah, suppose she did.”

“Alright! I’m gonna say it!” George Weasley exclaimed, plucking the photo of you from Harry’s grasp, he held it between himself and Fred, the older twin had somehow swiped the letter you’d written. “Harry’s girlfriend back home is quite cute, don’t you think, Freddie?” Fred nodded resolutely, pushing the letter into George’s face as he pointed towards a specific line.

“I have to agree and look, Georgie, she told Harry to tell us that she says hi! Ugh, such a darling,” Fred fake swooned and Harry felt his face heat up while George made kissy faces.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Yeah, you had opened Harry up to a whole new world of teasing yet somehow he didn’t mind.

“Oi, do you think she’d like some of our Weasley products?” George asked genuinely, wiggling his eyebrows. Harry shuddered at the thought of you getting a hold of anything that Fred and George had created, because yes, you would like some magical pranking products. You had quite a talent for mischief, only in Harry’s worst nightmares would the Weasley twins ever get their hands on you.

Harry shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “Dunno.”

“She single?” Fred asked jokingly and Harry scrunched his face up. He supposed you were single, though, he’d never really pictured you with anyone. He felt quite protective over you, but he supposed he'd like to see you happy with someone he approved of- or alternatively; anyone but Dudley.

“Think so,” Harry told him with another shrug before a cheeky grin spread across his lips, as he focused his attention on the twins who were nudging each other in mock victory, “Why? Should I write home and tell her the esteemed Weasley twins have a crush on her?”

George was the first the speak, he nodded, completely serious and Harry found himself worrying that perhaps one of the Weasley twins would get his hands on you.

“Yes. Absolutely,” Fred snorted and said no more, allowing his younger twin to continue the girl based antics seeing as Fred’s actual crush, Angelina, had started to glare. “In fact, give her my name. Tell her to write to me next time, eh?”

Harry’s eyes widened, oh Merlin, George was serious.

“Oh sod off, would you? The poor girl is a muggle, she’d throw herself off the astronomy tower if she got stuck with either of you prats.” Ron said through a laugh, none of them could deny it was quite funny, even Hermione had to bite back a smile at the chaos your simple letter had caused.

Around two weeks had passed until Astra returned to you, two letters attached to her leg this time.

You greeted her with a warm smile as she landed on the inside of you window, “Welcome home, pretty lady! Did you have a nice trip?” You cooed, patting her feathers and giggling when she nuzzled her head against your fingers. Having a magical owl as a pet was weird, but still, you seemed to be managing her okay.

Astra hooted happily, as if informing you that she did, in fact, have a nice trip. “That’s good! Let me take these letters off and you can have a well deserved rest, I’ve made a nice nest up for you,” you rambled softly as you untied the string that was holding the letters to her leg.

Astra hooted, hopping onto your arm and allowing you to place her on the plush pile of pillows and blankets which she immediately made herself comfortable upon, once again hooting in content when you placed a handful of treats in front of her.

You assumed that both letters were from Harry until you noticed the messy handwriting that covered one of the envelopes, handwriting that definitely didn’t belong to Harry. Besides, never, even in the furthest reaches of your imagination, would your best friend ever refer to you as; “Harry’s Pretty Neighbour”. You set that one to the side for the time being and focused on the letter you knew to actually be from Harry.

Dear (Y/n),

Hi. Sorry I didn’t tell you I was a wizard. If it makes you feel better I was actually planning on telling you this summer, but thank you for saving me from that conversation. I miss you too (only a tad). I hope you’re having a good school year so far, it’s been pretty chaotic here but I promise I’ll tell you every single tiny detail when we see each other at the end of May!

Did Astra get home okay? She’s a really lovely owl, she took quite a liking to George who (terrifyingly) has taken quite a liking to you. He’s been badgering me all week for “permission” to write to you, in his words, “just to say hello.” I think you’d actually get along but he and the rest of his family are very magic oriented, I’d be surprised if he didn’t scare you away… the pair of you together would be my worst nightmare. Don’t even get me started on how I’d feel if Fred was in the mix too. I’m tired just thinking about it.

Thank you for the sweets they were lovely, I put a chocolate frog in the envelope for you, it’s a really popular sweet in the wizarding world- don’t freak out when it hops, it’s just a charm the frog isn’t really alive.

I enjoyed the pictures too, I put a few in this letter for you too, the polaroid is running out of film but it should be enough to keep me going until the end of term.

Write to me again soon, I like hearing from you.

Take care,

Harry.

P.S. I’m really sorry you had to kiss Dudley, I’ll do something to make it up to you. Promise.

P.P.S. If George OR Fred manage to write to you PLEASE don’t eat anything they give you.

With a laugh you set the letter down beside you. Curiously, you reached a hand into the ivory envelope and pulled out the peculiarly shaped chocolate box as well as the polaroids. You viewed the photos with a fond smile, Harry always looked so happy, even with whatever chaos was happening around him. Wizard school definitely made your best friend the happiest he’d ever been.

Opening the next letter, which you now guessed judging by Harry’s letter, came from George Weasley, Harry’s friend Ron’s older brother. That was all you knew about him. You let out a gasp once you opened the seal, a small show of tiny fireworks shot out, exploding in balls of reds and oranges across your bedroom before they disappeared as if they’d never been there in the first place.

Slightly frazzled, yet amazed, you cautiously plucked the letter from the envelope and began reading.

Hello, Harry’s Pretty Neighbour.

I hope you enjoyed the show, hopefully it didn’t startle you too much… I’m not exactly sure what muggles are used to… if it did scare you I’m sorry.

Anyway, just wanted to say hi. Promised Harry I wouldn’t spook you, he’s quite protective of you, you know. It’s very sweet.

I don’t blame him, though. If I had a friend as pretty as you I’d be protective too ;)

Don’t break my heart, write back?

Yours truly,

George Weasley x

And that had been the start of it. Two years had passed since you’d discovered the wizarding world and it seemed as though things had simultaneously gotten worse and better. As it turns out, your lifelong best friend was some sort of prophetic hero in the wizard community and on top of that it seemed that there was a war brewing that he would be expected to lead.

Of course, you were completely useless as you don’t possess the ability to perform magic which also means you're at risk of being hate crimed by some classist, wizard, blood supremacists? You weren’t sure. But Harry was worried.

You’d been writing back and forth to a few of Harry’s Hogwarts friends (your friends now too) for a long while now, you’d even gotten a chance to finally meet them when you’d gone with the Dursleys to collect Harry from King’s Cross Station.

You got along best with Hermione seeing as she was raised similarly to yourself and Harry. However, of all of Harry’s school mates, you liked George the most. Everyone could have predicted it really, you’d been writing to each other constantly and the second you’d clapped eyes on each other in the flesh he’d broken out in a run to crush you in a hug. Harry had groaned at the sight of the pair of you, smiling widely at each other, seeming to slot together perfectly. He had to laugh about it now though, if things went well with Ginny he supposed you’d probably end up being his sister-in-law, assuming his predictions of George falling completely in love with you were correct (they were, he knew).

All air of laughter or wizard/muggle romances was gone at the moment however. You and Harry sat alongside each other, your hand holding his loosely between the swings you were sat on, he’d be going into his 5th year at Hogwarts soon, he’d yet to recover from the last. He’d made a friend only for that friend to be killed right in front of him. He’d almost been murdered himself for God’s sake.

“If you don’t feel safe, Haz… maybe, I don’t know? Don’t go back?” You suggested weakly, knowing he’d never do such a thing. As you expected, Harry shook his head and looked at you solemnly.

“Can’t. Not now that he’s back.” With a sigh you squeezed his hand.

“They should be paying you for this, you know,” Harry chuckled then, squeezing your hand in return.

“I’m doing this for you too. To keep you safe.” He admitted and you sighed miserably.

“I wish I could be of more help.” Harry scoffed, his green eyes shining with pure disbelief as he stared at you.

“More help? (Y/n) you must be joking…” he trailed off as you shook your head, you weren’t joking, you hated that you couldn’t help Harry through this, for once you knew there was nothing you could do to improve the situation in any way that would make an impact, “Oi. Look at me,” Harry demanded, no trace of the usual awkward sarcasm to be heard when he spoke.

You let your eyes meet his again and watched how they seemed to soften when he took in how utterly defenceless you looked, “If it hadn’t been for you, the first ten years of my life would’ve been an even worse hell than they already were. You were the only good thing and you’re still the only good thing about being back in this place.”

He watched sadly as your eyes fell to the floor again, “Besides, the sooner we get this mess with Voldemort sorted out, the sooner you and George Weasley can navigate the whole muggle/wizard romance thing.”

At his statement you barked out a laugh and Harry let himself smile too, “Shut up, Potter. S’not like that.”

Harry laughed then too, “Oh it is so like that, (N/n).”

“It so isn’t.” You grumbled, but your little smile confirmed to Harry that it absolutely was like that.

“Okay. Fine, please then do tell, what is going on between you and the infamous George Weasley?” Harry challenged, revelling in the way your cheeks burned with embarrassment. He let out a low chuckle when you shrugged shyly and kicked the stones beneath your feet.

“I don’t know… We write to each other a lot, and I think he’s really interesting and funny and sweet and of course I think he’s fit. But, I don’t know,” you bit your lip as Harry listened to you, he found it quite endearing. “I just don’t see how it would work. I like him, yeah, but…” Harry scoffed again as you trailed off. He hated seeing you feeling so insecure, Harry was clueless about a lot of things, but he knew exactly how much his best friend was worth- more than all the gold in Gringott’s.

“Ok as your best mate, and as someone who is very close with the Weasley family, I’m telling you that he’s mad about you. All he ever does is ask me about you, Fred is completely sick of him. He’s even told Molly about you, which is truly a commitment believe me,” Harry started, growing more content with the more bashful you became, “And didn’t he write to you just before the Yule Ball to tell you that he was going with Katie Bell as a friend but he wanted to tell you just incase you heard it from someone else and he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea?” Finally, you were back to fighting a smile.

“Yeah he did.”

“Well there you go. But seriously he hasn’t dated or even so much as looked at anyone else since he met you. Which I’ll be honest is super annoying for me but you deserve someone who thinks you hung the stars in the sky.”

A mock gasp left your lips and you released his hand to place it over your chest in faux hurt, “You mean to tell me you don’t think I hung the stars in the sky? I’m hurt, Harry. I think I’ll have to rat you out to Mrs. Weasley.”

Harry laughed but the lighthearted atmosphere didn’t last long before Dudley had shown up with his little gang of bullies, all of whom made fun of Harry’s nightmares.

It was then things had taken a turn for the worst, the sky turned black and storm clouds completely blocked out the previously scorching sun. You looked to Harry for answers but he seemed to be seeing something that you couldn’t, all you knew was that it had become unbearably cold, a feeling of misery making a home in your bones as Harry rushed to pull you to your feet.

“Run! Come on!” He shouted, clutching your hand tightly in his and sprinting through the neighbourhood until you, Harry and Dudley found yourselves struggling to catch a breath in a graffiti covered tunnel.

A terrified yelp left your throat as what you’d been running from revealed itself to you.

Several floating, cloaked shadowy figures swooped into the tunnel on both sides, their hands decaying and boney, their presence leaving you with the feeling that you’d never know positively ever again.

Harry had effectively used his body to cage you against the wall of the tunnel, his back pressed firmly against your chest, your own back pressed to the cold concrete wall, his wand was at the ready as the creatures approached rapidly.

“Don’t look at them.” Harry instructed, protecting you first as you watched in horror as one of the creatures seemed to be ripping Dudley’s essence straight out of his body.

It only took Harry a few painfully long seconds to take care of the creature in front of the pair of you, you’d wished you’d taken his advice and buried your head in his shoulder so you wouldn’t see the monstrous creatures before you, yet, you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from Dudley.

The rest happened in a blur, Harry had yet to let go of your hand as it (and your entire body) shook violently. Demontors broke even the strongest of wizards, Harry knew that as a muggle who’d never seen a magical creature, other than an owl, you’d react negatively.

“If it makes you feel any better, I used to faint every time I saw a dementor.” You nodded numbly, giving Dudley a side glance of concern while he mumbled incoherently to himself.

“Is he alright?” You questioned meekly, voice shaking. You were still freezing and the all too familiar feeling of uselessness didn’t do anything to help you regain your inner warmth.

Harry nodded, “He will be.”

“The ministry will be after my head for using magic outside of school,” he told you after a few minutes, squeezing your hand lightly for the umpteenth time, “So I’m gonna have to go away for a while. Probably tonight. Eat some chocolate, it should stop the shaking.” He told you, you hadn’t even noticed you’d reached Privet Drive.

“And they won’t-“ your breath got caught in your throat and your eyes filled with fear, “The dementors. They won’t come back, will they?”

Harry shook his head, “No. But come on, we should get you inside before the ministry shows up and tries to obliviate you.” His final words came out as more of a mumble than an actual sentence as he passed a bumbling Dudley over to Petunia and Vernon before steering you down your own driveway.

“You better not have broken her too, boy!” You vaguely registered Vernon’s voice shouting in your and Harry’s direction.

Your parents were away on holiday at the moment, in Spain. They’d wanted you to come but you hadn’t wanted to miss Harry’s visit, so when you shakily managed to open the door the house was completely dark, you weren’t sure at what point night had fallen.

Harry closed the door behind himself and made his way into your kitchen, the boy rifled through your sweet press before his hand finally settled on what he was looking for. A triumphant sort of yell left his lips as he pulled a bar of chocolate out of the cupboard.

While Harry tossed the bar onto the counter and busied himself with boiling the kettle, you stood in the hallway still, completely rigid.

“Come on, (Y/n). Sit down.” He urged gently, not turning around. Wordlessly, you fully entered the kitchen and slid into a chair facing Harry.

“Don’t you have better things to be doing than making me tea?” You wondered, setting your hands on the table and fidgeting with your icy fingers. Obviously, you appreciated Harry’s fussing but with the way he was talking about the ministry earlier you were sure he had more important things to worry about.

Harry only faced you once he was finished making your tea. He carried the hot cup and the previously discarded bar of chocolate over to you, he placed them both on the table before giving you a hard look, “I’m looking after you first. I’ll deal with everything else later.”

“I used to be the one who took care of you.” You said through a sigh, taking a sip of the hot tea and slumping against your seat as you began to heat up on the inside again.

Harry let out a low chuckle, “Oh how the tables have turned.”

“I liked it better the other way.” You complained, munching on a square of chocolate.

“Trust me, so did I,” Harry groaned, standing up and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Don’t worry though, (N/n). Have a sneaking feeling that you’ll be looking after me again soon enough.”

You patted the hand he had clamped on your shoulder in appreciation, “Thank you, though, for looking after me.”

“Course. I better go. I don’t want you getting roped into anything else tonight,” he said with a sad smile and you nodded in understanding, “We probably won’t see each other for a while but I’ll write. Is Astra back from Cecilia's yet?” Celillia is the witch you’d gotten Astra from in the first place, the pair of you had kept in touch and she’d recently offered to try and teach you some basic divination skills, she claimed that, “Being a wizard isn’t exactly a requirement” and you desperately needed something, anything, to make you feel more connected to your friends in the wizarding world. You supposed you’d need to plan a trip to her cottage soon, after tonight you definitely needed some of her wisdom.

“No, not yet. She flew straight there from the burrow so I suppose she’s probably resting,” you informed him distantly, still clutching his hand, “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

Harry squeezed your shoulder and let out a deep breath, “I’ll try my best. Promise,” with that he lifted his hand from your shoulder and extended his pinky to you, you gladly linked it with your own. Harry noted, very gratefully, that the warmth had now returned to your hands and you’d stopped shaking so violently.

“Send me a letter once Astra gets back, alright? I’ll keep you updated on what’s going on over on my side.” You agreed before walking Harry to the door, hugging him tightly and watching as he approached the Dursley’s front door.

As predicted, Harry, George, Hermione and Cecillia had let you know that the wizarding world was crumbling fast. Admittedly you were worried about your wizard friends, but Cecillia had done a great job of keeping you distracted by keeping you buried under heaps of divination books, tarot cards and crystal guidebooks. As it turns out, though, you had quite the talent for making accurate detailed predictions.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were descended from a powerful seer,” she’d written to you in awe after you’d managed to predict exactly how a date of hers would go without missing a single detail.

Reading tarot cards quickly became one of your favourite hobbies to indulge in when you weren’t in school. You’d made the mistake of telling George about it in a recent letter, Harry already knew and he also knew that there was no point telling you that he didn’t have a heap of faith in divination. George however was having a field day with the new information.

The older boy teased you at every chance he got, but it was all in good fun as in every letter he sent, you’d find a page that he’d ripped out of his own divination book, the pages would be crinkled and have messy notes scribbled along the margins, with explanations over words that he knew you wouldn’t understand as a muggle. They were actually really helpful. Aside from all the teasing he found it quite endearing that you were trying to get familiar with some form of magic. Even if it was a form of magic wizards tended to ridicule.

He’d been quite worried about you, Harry told him about the dementors and how you’d been quite shaken up after your encounter with them. He’d written to you on a weekly basis, constantly checking in on you, making absolutely sure that no more dementors paid you a visit. He and Harry both kept you up to date with the constant and seemingly never ending rules being imposed upon them by their new headmaster, or headmistress; Delores Umbridge. George also disclosed to you all about his and Fred’s plan to leave Hogwarts and pursue their lifelong dream of opening a joke shop. You had nothing but faith in the twins, really. Your complete faith in them hadn’t stopped you from sending George a handful of crystals that you believed would help his and his shop’s success. He’d teased you relentlessly in each letter since he’d received your package containing citrine, tiger’s eye, amazonite, aventurine and smokey quartz. What he hadn’t mentioned since receiving your little gifts, is that he’d been carrying the five crystals around in their little orange mesh drawstring bag in his pocket everywhere he went. He had to give credit where credit is due and, to be fair to you and your holistic ways, he hadn’t run into any serious obstacles since he started carrying the gems around.

November through June had brought forth a plethora of unfortunate events. You were practically swimming in school work which left you with no time to write to Harry, or even practice tarot. As well as that, you’d been having nightmares, although Cecillia had warned that these dreams could hold some sort of prophesies within them, you highly doubted that though, you weren’t a wizard, only a muggle. Whether prophetic or not, the nightmares plagued you, keeping you up at night or waking you at all hours of the morning.

On one particular morning, you’d awoken with a gasp. Sweat coated your face, soaked your pillow cases and caused your legs to stick to your blankets in a way not even the June heat could've caused. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, tears welled in your eyes, and your body shook as violently as it had the night you’d come face to face with the dementors of Azkaban. The unadulterated fear coursing through your bloodstream suggested that perhaps this bad dream had been something more than simply that.

As fast as you could manage in your panicked state, you dragged your body out of bed and stumbled towards your light switch, flicking it on before haphazardly ripping a sheet out of the refill pad on your desk, grabbing a pen and beginning to scribble down the dream that you could only describe as a warning.

Your laboured breaths stirred Astra from her slumber, the tawny hooted tiredly, hopping out of her cage and fluttering over to your shoulder, settling there as you wrote.

Harry,

I hope this letter reaches you in time. I might sound completely mad but something terrible may be about to happen. I’ve been having these horrific dreams over the last few months, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry but Cecillia suspects they’re premonitions and I’m terrified she may be right. I’ve just woken up, it’s around 2am and if I’m lucky, Astra should get this letter to you before 6am…

Onto the dream, you were there and you were asleep, I was standing by your bed, it was a four-poster sort of thing, the room was decorated in mostly red and gold. You woke up panicked, you looked completely overwhelmed and you began shouting about your Godfather Sirius, about how he was in trouble… From then on I watched the day play out. You, Hermoine, Ron, Ginny, a boy with brown hair I’ve never met, I think you called him Neville in my dream, and a blonde girl- Luna I think you called her, you all went to the ministry to rescue Sirius and find some kind of prophecy. Harry you have to listen to me, you mustn’t go, it’s a trick, Voldemort planted it in your head and if you go you’ll only put Sirius in harm’s way. But, knowing you, you’re gonna go anyway… so here’s my advice: keep your eyes open for the witch Bellatrix. Keep Sirius away from the veil and please please please, be careful.

I’m heading to Cecillia’s cottage for the day and maybe even the next couple of days, send Astra there when you find time to write back.

I hope I’m wrong but if I’m not; good luck, Harry. I love you and if you don’t look after yourself the dark lord will be the least of your worries.

Lots of love,

Y/n.

Folding up the letter and placing it in a stray envelope, you addressed it and gently tied it to your loyal owl’s leg. “I’m gonna need you to go as fast as you can to get this to Harry, okay Astra?” She hooted with what you guessed to be determination before she set off, out into the night. Thankfully for you, now that your owl was occupied, you knew Cecillia owned a telephone so you’d have no problems contacting her. While writing to Harry, you’d left out a few details about the dream. You conveniently forget to mention that you’d watched his only remaining family member killed at the hand’s of Bellatrix, it had looked so terrifyingly real that your mind couldn’t have possibly conjured it up all by itself. You also failed to mention hearing Harry’s agonising scream as Sirius fell, the noise was nearly deafening. Seeing Sirius, a man you’d only seen in pictures, die and watching your best friend mourn for him was, well, traumatising. There was no way you’d get a wink of sleep for the remainder of the night, so, you quietly tiptoed downstairs and made a call.

The line rang three times before Cecillia’s voice sounded, chirpy as ever despite the late hour, “Hello?”

“Sorry to call so late,” was all you managed, your voice although shaky was immediately identified by the much older witch.

You could nearly see the soft smile on her youthful face as she spoke, “Ah, Y/n my darling, no worries at all! How is my favourite student doing at half two in the morning?”

“Not well, I’ve had another vision. I think you might’ve been right about the dreams being prophetic,” you told her, willing your voice not to crack as the image of your bad dreams crept into your mind once again.

Cecillia let out a gentle hum, “Shall I apparate over? You don’t sound in the highest of spirits, darling.”

“Yes please,” you answered simply and within seconds Cecillia was standing before you, a worried furrow in her brow and her ashy brown hair disheveled from apparating to you in such a hurry. How could she not? You were, after all, her protégé.

“Oh, darling. You look terribly shaken up, come, come, let’s get you some water,” she fretted, guiding you to your kitchen, magically flicking on the light with her wand and filling up a glass of water, with a few flicks of her wrist the glass had floated over to your usual seat at the table, meanwhile Cecillia had stirred you into the wooden chair adjacent the glass.

Wordlessly, the witch peeled your damp hair away from your face and secured it back with a crocodile clip shaped like a huge golden bumble bee, it’s wings adorned with glittering gems. The bee sat comfortably in your hair as Cecillia finally sat down beside you, she made herself comfortable on the kitchen chair, crossing one leg over the other, resting her elbow on the table and using it to prop her cheek up. Her wide green eyes stared at you sympathetically, watching intently as you sipped your water.

“I’m assuming your loyal familiar is sleeping soundly?” She wondered, referring to Astra. You shook your head, simultaneously swallowing a gulp of water before responding verbally.

“I sent her with a letter to Harry, it was more of a warning really,” Cecillia nodded her head, signalling you to go on, “I dreamt of Harry and his friends going to the Ministry of Magic to rescue Sirius Black, but it was a trap. When they got there they were ambushed by dark wizards and Sirius well he…” you trailed off, eyes growing distant and unfocused when the sight of the man being murdered reentered your mind’s eye. A gentle hand on your shoulder pulled you back to the present.

“This one was far worse than the others then?”

You nodded, “It didn’t feel like a dream, cecillia. It was like I was actually standing there but I couldn’t do anything to help though… as per usual,” you muttered bitterly, receiving a harsh squeeze to your shoulder in response.

Cecillia fixed you with a maternal glare, “None of that! You potentially saved a life tonight. And, as I effortlessly predicted since the moment I met you, you’ve got the magical gift of sight,” her hard look melted into something more forgiving as she spoke, “You’re much more than just a muggle. You may have been an extremely late bloomer, but, you’re a witch and a seer at that. A peculiar case indeed, although in the wizarding world stranger things have happened,” the old witch told you proudly, eyes shining with glee as your own filled with confusion.

“How do we know the dream will even come true?” You questioned.

Cecillia simply shrugged and offered you a cheeky grin, “I trust your feelings, darling.”

True to your initial feeling, you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, you knew you wouldn’t be able to rest until you found out whether or not your dream had come to fruition. Cecillia remained by your side throughout the night, eventually the sun had risen and your parents descended down the stairs, neither of them were surprised to see Cecillia sitting at the kitchen table. They saw her as an odd woman, very kind and perfectly lovely, but odd. You’d told them that she owned an animal sanctuary and that you’d been volunteering with her, it wasn’t too far fetched really, she had given you an owl after all, not to mention the amount of cats that hung around her cottage.

She explained to your parents that she needed your help at ‘the sanctuary’ for the next few days and that she’d drop you home once the work was finished. It hadn’t been a problem, so you traveled to Cecillia’s cottage after getting dressed and packing an overnight bag (full to the brim with tarot decks and only some clothes).

It was nearly 8 in the evening when Cecillia sauntered into her living room, where you were sitting, sporting a knowing grin, she held a piece of parchment in one hand and an unopened envelope in the other.

Jovially, she plopped herself down beside you, obviously doing her very best to contain a huge grin from forming on her face. Wordlessly, she placed the envelope on your lap with a mere, “For you.”

On the envelope you could tell by the handwriting that it had come from Harry. This was definitely a make or break moment for you. The contents of this letter would either confirm that you did in fact have magic, or, they would be responsible for causing you to experience a seismic amount of embarrassment. Swallowing the lump in your throat you tore the envelope open, freeing the letter and daring to read what was inside.

Dear Y/n,

Your dream was right. And that advice you gave about keeping an eye on Sirius? It saved his life. I suppose I’m mostly writing to say thank you. I’ve got some updates for you too: firstly, it’s finally been confirmed that Voldemort is back so my name is cleared. Secondly, it turns out that Remus and Cecillia are old friends, she contacted him earlier today about your vision and he and Sirius haven’t shut up about how impressive it is. I have a feeling you might be hearing from them soon, The Order now more than ever is in need of a secret weapon and genuine seers are hard to come by. I hate to involve you in this, it’ll probably be dangerous and you know I don’t want to see you hurt, or worse. But having said that, I’m glad we’re in this together now.

Astra got here in good time, by the way, she landed on my window just after I woke up from my vision of Sirius, it was actually quite freaky. I’m taking good care of her so don’t worry, she should be back to you at some point tomorrow.

Hermoine and Ron say hi too. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from George soon, seeing as he and Fred are in the Order… On that note I better get going.

Thank you again for the warning.

See you soon,

Love, Harry.

A bemused smile spread across your lips as you scanned the page, thankful to have finally made a significant difference in Harry’s life. Cecillia was grinning like a cheshire cat beside you, pride shimmering in her emerald eyes. She bumped her arm against yours playfully when you let the letter fall to your lap, “An old friend of mine will be stopping by in a short while. It seems he’d like to get you trained up in some defence against the dark arts.” She told you, still grinning.

“Defence against the dark arts?” You wondered out loud, you were sure you’d heard Harry mention those words to you before, however, the memories were fuzzy.

“Magic to keep you safe from darker magic, the likes of which the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters rely,” she explained darkly. Just then, a loud bang erupted from her open stone fireplace, a bubble of green dissipated as two men stepped less than gracefully onto Cecillia’s faux-fur rug. You recognised them both from your vision. They were Sirius Black and, if you were to take an educated guess, Remus Lupin.

Cecillia wasted no time before she was giddily jumping from her seat to greet the pair who had just appeared in her sitting room.

“Remus! Oh, how wonderful to see you!” She all but squealed, pulling the tall man into a hug and ruffling his already messy hair.

He reciprocated the hug with a gentle chuckle, “It’s nice to see you again, Cece. It’s been far too long,” he pulled away and the pair of them shared a fond smile before simultaneously looking to Sirius. “I trust you remember Sirius?” Lupin asked, almost rhetorically.

Sirius let out a booming laugh at that, “She could never forget me, now could you, Cece?” Cecillia rolled her eyes, and with a look of endearment nearly tackled Sirius into an embrace.

Seeing the woman who was essentially your magical mentor so overjoyed was lovely, Cecillia was jolly at the best of times but you’d never seen her quite like this. Her happiness added to your sense of helpfulness, Sirius Black was obviously important to more than just Harry, if the smile on the free-spirited witches face was anything to go by. Although you were ecstatic for the three witches and wizards before you, you couldn’t help but feel like you were imposing on an intimate reunion.

Awkwardly you cleared your throat, successfully bringing the trio’s attention onto you as you stood by the sofa, smiling unsurely. If it was even possible, all three of their smiles broadened when their gazes landed on you.

“Am I right in assuming that this is my guardian angel?” Sirius asked, separating from Cecillia.

Cecillia nodded, filled with pride, “And isn’t she just the loveliest guardian angel you’ve ever seen?” She gushed, half seriously.

You offered Sirius a bashful smile, along with a nod of greeting, “I’m glad to see you’re alright,” you told him.

His grin stayed fixed in place but he raised a single eyebrow in confusion, “Glad? And yet you’ve never met me before now…” his tone was laced with inquisition, as if he wanted to figure out what ulterior motive you could possibly have for caring about a stranger you’d only ever seen in a dream.

It didn’t take a seer or a psychic to see what Sirius was after, so you simply answered him truthfully, “No, we’ve never met, but you’re still a person, I watched that woman kill you, it was horrible, nobody deserves that. As well as that; I know how much you mean to Harry and what sort of best friend would I be if I didn’t try to help him keep his last family member safe?” Sirius nodded approvingly at your reply, looking between Remus and Cecillia.

“She remind you of anyone?” The black haired man asked in a low chuckle, Remus snickered and Cecillia bit back a grin.

The witch made her way back to your side and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, jostling you ever so slightly when she noticed your vaguely worried expression, “Don’t worry, darling, you just remind us of one of our most treasured school friends, I promise I will tell you all about it later. But for now, I believe Sirius was about to thank you for saving his life?” She prompted, waiting expectantly.

Sirius cleared his throat and straightened his posture before outstretching his arm, offering you his hand which you took firmly in your own. His voice was steady, strong and genuine when he spoke, “I am truly thankful for what you did for not only me but Harry today. I’m extremely proud of my godson for aligning himself with such a strong, powerful and wonderfully loyal young lady.”

“How sweet,” Cecillia cooed, before guiding you to the kitchen, “Come now, boys, kettles on- we have a lot to discuss!” She called over her shoulder.

There certainly had been a lot to discuss. The Order of the Phoenix thought having a seer at their disposal would be extremely beneficial in the upcoming war, the issue was; you are not yet of age and some members of the group didn’t wish to involve a child in their battle. Sirius, Remus and Cecillia made it abundantly clear that if you desired to join the Order, you were more than welcome but you would be welcomed under certain conditions. Those conditions being that your membership be kept under wraps and not disclosed to any muggles, meaning your parents.

“To keep them safe and to give you an escape route if things get too messy, even with the level of magic you’ll have gained by the time the war is in full swing, as a muggle born you’ll most likely need to flee quickly,” Remus explained, though it didn’t make much sense.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to run if my parents knew what we were running from? They’re open minded people, I’m sure they’d understand,” you attempted to reason, the trio but exchanged yet another loaded look with each other.

Cecillia placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, “We have a contingency plan in place, darling. Nothing you need to worry about for right now,” she reassured, easing your nerves a tad. “You trust me don’t you?” She followed up, her tone slightly stonier, more serious. You nodded your head certainly in response, there was no doubt about it; you trusted the witch with your life. “Then,” she began again, a somewhat chastising look on her face, “Trust that I will not allow a single hair on your head to be harmed.” This rule also extended to wizards not in the Order, which meant that when in the magical world, you were to air on the side of extreme caution.

Relating to that, another condition was that, at all times in the magical world, you were to be accompanied by an of age member of the Order. According to Sirius, who your were growing to like more by the second, he was going to arrange for a member of the Order to bring you to Diagon Alley in the morning to get you a wand. The prospect of having a wand of your own was terribly exciting, once again though, you found yourself wondering if you had it in you to properly wield one, or wield one at all for that matter. You were too exhausted to fret for too long, so the thoughts about magic levels and your own capabilities were only fleeting. Once all of the serious chat dissipated into friendly chatter, you managed to slip away from the table at which you were all sat. Making your way back to the sitting room, you tucked yourself into the corner seat of Cecillia’s old and very comfortable sofa, pulled your knees against your chest, wrapped your arms around them and rested your cheek against your knee. Slowly and deeply, you began to breathe in and out, fiddling with the amazonite bracelet that adorned your wrist in order to quell your ever growing anxiety. For a few sweet minutes you indulged in the calm silence, meditating peacefully in your comfy seat until a soft knock sounded from the doorway. When your eyes fluttered open they were met with the image of Sirius Black, leaning casually against the frame of the door, a hand plunged deep into his trouser pocket and another flipping a stray tarot card between his fingers. His eyes were focused on yours as he spoke, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

You shook your head and patted the seat beside you, “‘Course not, come sit.”

The man chuckled but obliged, settling in the spot beside you and offering you the card he’d previously been fiddling with.

“The ten of swords,” you identified easily, “I assume you’ve been feeling quite overwhelmed if this card found its way to you.”

Sirius hummed, “CeCe tells me that you’ve a penchant for card reading. I was rubbish at divination back at Hogwarts, only took it because I thought it’d be easy but I could never get my head around it,” he reminisced, an airy laugh slipping from his lips.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who were you all talking about earlier when you asked if I reminded Cecilia and Remus of anyone?” He let out a deep sigh before fixing you with a soft smile.

“An old school friend of ours, she was more than a friend to me, but that’s a story for another time,” he started, staring out into the empty space before him a melancholy grin on his lips, “She was fiercely loyal to her friends, if she wanted to help there was absolutely nothing that would stop her from doing so. I know I don’t know you very well, but from what I heard today and the way in which you’ve been described to me by Harry; I can see her in you,” he finished, bumping his shoulder with yours and forcing a happy smile onto your lips which mirrored Sirius’.

“What’s her name?” You asked.

“Her name was Marlene,” Sirius answered.

Your heart dropped with his use of past tense, “Was?”

Sirius bowed his head slightly and began to twist the rings that adorned his slender fingers, “She was killed during the first war,” he told you, making eye contact once again, a grave expression on his face as he continued, “I saw your apprehension earlier when we brought up the topic of secrecy, but you must understand that during the first war we lost so many who were dear to us, keeping you in our back pocket will ensure that you aren’t harmed in the face of this war, if any dark wizards hear so much of a whisper of a muggleborn seer they will stop at nothing to eliminate you,” he paused for a brief second, never breaking eye contact, the gravity of the situation heavy on your chest your fingers absentmindedly found your amazonite bracelet once again. Your movements were halted when Sirius placed his large hand over yours, squeezing it warmly while staring at you determinedly, “You saved my life today, Y/n. So believe me when I tell you that I will stop at nothing to keep you safe,” he promised and you squeezed his hand in return.

“I know,” he smiled as he watched your eyes return to the ten of swords and your grin broadened with the sort of mischief he’d only ever seen in four people; James Potter, Marlene McKinnon and Fred and George Weasley. “I have a prediction for you.”

Sirius entertained you fondly, a mischievous air that reminded him of when he was your age surrounding the pair of you, “By all means, do tell.”

“I predict,” you paused for emphasis, “that we are going to be very good friends.”

Sirius let out a booming laugh of which the volume he couldn’t control, “That is a prediction I truly hope will come to fruition.”

“Oh no, this is a duo that spells trouble,” Cecillia giggled to Remus as they entered the sitting room.

Remus looked between you and Sirius with a grin, “With a mentor like you, Cece, I’m not surprised Y/n has a taste for mischief,” the ruffled wizard teased, receiving a gentle elbow to the ribs from your mentor.

“Oi, if you’re going to blame my beloved girl’s mischief on anyone you better blame it on a certain Weasley twin,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows and causing the boys to smile giddily like teenagers.

Sirius bumped your shoulder again, this time with a faux-scandalised smile, “A Weasley twin, eh? Come on then, which one?” You blushed heavily and cleared your throat in an attempt to alleviate the embarrassment filling your being.

“He’s just a friend!”

“Mhm. A friend that sends her annotated pages from his divination text book,” Cecillia sang and Sirius snickered.

“Whichever one it is must be quite taken with you if you made him actually crack open a textbook.”

“Annotations are quite intimate,” Remus half teased although you could see he believed what he’d just said, “I bet it’s George,” he directed the bet at Sirius who carefully observed the way you bit your lip and bashfully looked towards the wooden floor.

“I think you’re right, moony. Now!” He stood suddenly and pointed a finger at Remus expectantly, “We best get going and arrange Y/n’s accomplice for tomorrow’s field trip,” he wiggled his eyebrows before turning his head to face you again, he shot you a wink and you couldn’t stop the airy laugh that left your mouth at his lighthearted antics.

Remus gave Cecillia a one armed hug, “we’ll be seeing you both tomorrow then, it was lovely to meet you, Y/n, perhaps next time Sirius will allow me to get a word in,” he chuckled and Sirius responded by throwing his arm around your shoulder.

“I better get off, this husband of mine is growing jealous,” he told you in a teasingly hushed whisper.

Your eyes widened and you looked between the two men, “You two are married?”

A love struck smile took over both of their faces which immediately gave you your answer. “We’re engaged,” Sirius clarified before pulling you into a proper hug, “Get a good night's sleep, we’ll be sending an order member to collect you early tomorrow morning so you can be in and out of Olivander’s before a crowd can build,” he told you while giving you an affectionate squeeze, you could’ve laughed when you realised that it felt like you’d known Sirius forever but you also could’ve cried when you relived the image of him losing his life and realised that just because it was over and prevented didn't mean it hadn’t still transpired in your mind’s eye, you didn’t let that show on your face though.

“I’ll make sure I’m well rested,” you promised.

With that, Sirius bid Cecillia goodbye, and he and Remus left the way they’d came.

The rest of the night had been spent with Cecillia telling you story after story about her school days and the trouble she’d caused with Sirius, Remus, James and Lily Potter, Harry’s parents, and another boy who she only referred to as “the rat”. Though the tone of the stories were completely lighthearted, they weighed on your chest with a sense of such tragedy. A huge majority of their friends were killed young because of the war, a war that was now waging once again. It led you to wonder who’d be lost to this one, if perhaps you’d be on the list of names that Harry or Cecillia or George would speak about fondly with a dense undertone of sorrow in the years after the second war had long since been won. It was a risk you were willing to take though, the notion of fighting for a deserving cause filled you with a sense of purpose, a purpose you’d been searching for for years. More than that, you felt important. You were needed. An asset. You would actually be of some help.

True to your word, you’d been getting a good night’s rest. The bed in Cecillia’s spare room was the comfiest thing you’d ever come across, though, as you began to stir from your deep slumber you couldn’t recall the empty side of the double bed being quite so dipped.

Slowly and begrudgingly, you cracked your eyes open to see Cecillia smiling tiredly at you in the light of dawn, “Morning, darling. Sorry about the early start, I’ve made you some tea,” she greeted quietly so as to not disturb the peace of the early morning. She held two ceramic mugs, one in each hand and passed you the steaming cup that was hand painted green, keeping the brown one for herself. Tiredly, you patted the spot beside you and pulled the quilt to the side, inviting the witch into the warm bed. She happily slid in, pulling the quilt over her and chuckling quietly when you dropped your head onto her robed shoulder and began to sip the tea she’d made. Cecillia rested her head against yours and sipped on her own tea.

“Are you excited for today?” She asked and you hummed.

“I’m having mixed emotions,” you stated, “I’m excited to see everything, but I’m sort of nervous that I won’t have enough magic to even get a wand,” Comfort spread through your chest when Cecillia pressed her lips to the crown of your head.

“The wonderful thing about wands, lovely, is that the wand picks the wizard,” she began, “so whatever wand you end up with will accentuate the level of magic inside you. Its power will grow as yours does and you’ll soon come to realise that you couldn’t imagine wielding anything else,” her voice was wistful and her eyes shined with wonder as she recalled how it felt to bond to a wand.

“What do you think mine will be like?” You wondered, excitement awakening in you thanks to Cecillia’s encouraging words.

The witch took an exaggerated slurp of her tea before answering, “Something curious,” was all she said.

“Insightful,” you murmured and she shrugged unapologetically, her chaotic energy exuding now that she’d started to wake up fully. “What time is it anyway?”

“Half six, your chaperone should be arriving at seven and Olivander’s opens at eight,” she told you before shimmying out of bed, you whined in the absence of your head rest. “You better get dressed. Wear something nice, rumour has it that your tag along is quite the eligible bachelor,” she wiggled her eyebrows and all but floated out of the spare room. It was practically your room by now though, over the years since you’d gotten Astra and met Cecillia you’d stayed in the room on countless occasions. Cecillia embodied something that was something between a second mother, a spiritual mentor, a teasing older sister and a slightly kooky aunt.

“Oh? So do you reckon I should brush my hair then?” You jokingly called out after her only to receive a harsh scoff.

“Absolutely not! Don’t be desperate!” You barked out a laugh at her response, shaking your head and getting ready for the day ahead.

You were just about finished getting ready when a familiar bang sounded from the sitting room. Taking a deep breath, you gave yourself one last look over in the mirror, happy with the outfit you’d chosen, you made your way towards the sitting room to come face to face with your surprise chaperone for the day.

When you shuffled into the sitting room, a smile immediately stretched across your lips upon seeing who had been appointed to stick by your side for the day, “George!” His name left your mouth in a squeal that would’ve been embarrassing had you not been so excited to see him. It’d been upwards of a year since the last time you’d seen George in the flesh and although you’d seen each other in photos and written to each other at a rate that was almost excessive, the prospect of spending time together in person was, for lack of a better word; magical.

George drew his attention away from the framed pictures that lined Cecillia’s fireplace to see you standing in the doorway, looking as bright as the newly risen sun and sporting a smile that he couldn’t quite put into words how it made him feel. It only took a second before his own cheek splitting smile grew on his face, and with it left his hopes of impressing you with his cool and collected attitude. You hadn’t given him too much time to dwell on his ruined cool guy facade as you all but threw yourself into his arms. The red head let out an endearing laugh, catching you in his toned arms, wrapping them tightly around your torso. A scarlet blush rising on his ears when he felt your smile against his neck. “Hello to you too,” he chuckled against your ear and you pulled back enough to look at him, your arms still secure around his shoulders.

“Sorry,” you started, the smile that still adorned your lips telling him that you weren’t all that sorry at all, “Hi,” you greeted, bashfully pulling your arms away from him.

The sitting room was quiet for a moment as the pair of you only stared at each other, would it be too much to tell him that you’ve missed him? You didn’t want to come on too strong after such a long time apart, you’d already tackled him into a hug within the first five seconds, but with that came your next internal question of; did you really want to keep this boy on his toes?

George, having already discarded his notion of acting nonchalant with you, bet you to the punch. He rubbed the back of his neck and flicked his gaze to the floor before bringing it back to you, “I’ve missed you.”

A giggle left your lips before you could think about choking it down, you nodded your head, bouncing slightly on the balls of your feet, “Yeah, I’ve missed you too. Sorry I haven’t written, Astra is still with Harry.”

George gave you a grin, “No worries, darling. Heard you’ve been a very busy little psychic lately.”

Darling, you mused internally, the nickname echoing through your head and causing your heart to somersault in a way you’d never really felt before.

“Oh how sweet,” Cecillia sang from the doorway, a wicked grin on her face as she took in the two hopeless blushing messes, staring doe-eyed at each other in the middle of her living room. “I hate to break up the reunion, my dears, but the pair of you really should get going,” she instructed, strutting up to you and holding a cloth pouch in your direction, “Sirius left you some spending money, it’s different than the money you usually use but I’m sure George will have no problem helping you out,” Cecillia shot the boy a wink and he nodded, once again growing bashful.

“Now,” she grew serious, directing her words at George and making him slightly intimidated with her strong eye contact, “You are to be extremely careful. You are not to mention that Y/n is a seer and you are not to draw any attention to the fact that she is a muggleborn, if Mr. Olivander asks, she’s a half-blood who's been living in the states and that’s why she doesn’t have a wand,” you wore a confused expression, George nodded in complete understanding, “Did Sirius give you the list?”

George nodded once again, pulling a folded piece of parchment out of the back pocket of his slightly baggy denim jeans, “May I take a look?” Cecillia asked, already snatching the parchment from George’s long fingers and unfolding the sheet and reading it aloud, “Alright! A wand… seriously? He used a whole page of parchment just to write one thing?” She grumbled, stomping over to the nearest side table, leaning down and began to scribble on the parchment. You looked to George as she wrote, “Why do you have to say I’m from the States?” You asked quietly and George leaned down slightly to be closer to your ear.

“Witches and wizards in America don’t get wands until they’re of age, we get them here when we’re eleven,” just as he was finished offering his explanation, Cecillia walked back over, a hard look on her face that you weren’t used to seeing, though it seemed that the look was reserved for George.

Silently she handed him the parchment before looking to you, hard look dissolving back into her usual playful expression, “Have fun, lovely.” She then turned to George again, apparently having had enough of trying to intimidate the poor boy, she shot him a smile, “You’ll be taking the floo to Diagon Alley, my fireplace is big enough to take the both of you at once,” she handed George a pouch of what looked like green powder, “George knows what to do, now, not to sound like a broken record but do stay safe and have fun,” she finished, ushering the pair of you into her fireplace. You couldn’t lie, it was quite strange, you supposed you should get used to things coming across as strange, you were about to be exposed to the magical wizarding world for the first time after all. In the fireplace, you stood shoulder to shoulder with George, noticing the nervous look on your face, he slid his hand into yours gently. When you looked at him, he kept his face focused on his feet, “Ready, Y/n?” Taking a deep breath you nodded shakily.

“Ready, George.”

At your words, George slammed the green powder onto the ground and shouted, “Diagon Alley!”

You were sure you were going to be sick. Whatever the powder was, it had you spinning at a pace you didn’t know was possible, you had screwed your eyes shut and you were almost certain that you could feel yourself physically moving. It was only when George tugged on your hand that you opened your eyes to see that your surroundings had actually changed. “It’s horrible the first time, but you get used to it,” George said, pulling you by your still intertwined hands onto the cobbled street. The dizziness died down after only a few seconds out in the fresh air, the added sensation of George’s thumb rubbing soothing circles against your hand seemed to do the trick in settling you completely as you took in the street ahead of you. It was dazzling, really. A long cobbled street, lined with shops that looked like they were plucked straight out of a fairytale. As planned, the streets were fairly empty in the early morning as George led you down the path towards the shop where you’d hopefully get your wand. The name “Olivanders” was written above both windows of the dark shop, the words “makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.” were to be seen just above the door. Excitement had completely overridden your nerves and you practically skipped towards the door, George followed casually behind you, his hands tucked into his pockets and a fond smile on his lips.

“I suppose you’re excited then?” He asked teasingly and you didn’t bother trying to hide your obvious childlike wonder as you waited for him to catch up with you.

“It probably seems silly to you, but this morning Cecillia told me all about when she got her wand and it sounded so wonderful,” you told him, smiling when he bumped his shoulder against yours.

“I don’t think it’s silly, I still get giddy thinking about the time Fred and I got wands of our own,” he pushed the door open and motioned for you to step inside, slowly you walked into the empty shop. It was dark and somewhat dingy but there was something very mystically inclining about it, you could feel the energy and it was utterly exhilarating.

“Wow,” you breathed out, spinning where you stood, gazing at the boxes upon boxes that lined the shelves.

Only a minute passed before an old man stumbled to the front of the shop, smiling at the pair of you from behind the counter, “Ah, Mr. Weasley, it’s good to see you, it’s been some time. What can I do for you this morning? I see you’ve brought a friend,” the older wizard greeted and you smiled in response.

“I’m looking for a wand. I’ve been living in the states for the past few years but I just moved home,” you lied easily, George couldn’t help but smirk, what he’d give to have had you around for some of his and Fred’s pranks at Hogwarts.

The old man nodded in understanding, his eyes scanned you, his eyes were scrutinising and you fought the urge to squirm under his gaze, “Interesting. One moment please,” he said, murmuring to himself as he searched the isles for what he was looking for. A small “aha” sounded from within the isles, he was back in front of you within seconds, an open rectangular box in his hand. It was absolutely gorgeous, it resembled a raw tree branch, wood spiralling up its expanse until it stopped at the top, cutting off in a jagged, dull edge. He must’ve noticed how your jaw dropped, how could he not? He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off you since you’d wandered into his shop. He was an old wizard, but he wasn’t naive, he was well aware you weren’t returning from America, he could sense an energy in you that he hadn’t come in contact with in a long time. “Curious, isn’t it?” He prompted you, causing you to let out an airy laugh. Cecillia was going to tease you big time when you got back to her cabin.

“It’s lovely, what is it?” He offered you the box expectantly and you hesitantly picked up the wand with as much care as you possibly could. It was cool against your skin and was heavier than you’d imagined it would be.

“Thirteen inch, oak; cut from the base of a tree, which at the time, was almost six hundred years old,” he explained, watching happily as you ran your fingers along the wands several ridges,”With a phoenix feather core, quite a rare piece indeed. Unfortunately, this particular wand has been extremely difficult to match to a witch. But something tells me that you might be just the witch for the job,” he held your gaze and you once again got the feeling that he knew something he shouldn’t, “Go on, then. Give it a wave,” he prompted and you looked to George for further encouragement. George laughed at your lost expression, pulling his own wand out and pointing it towards the now empty box on the counter, “Like this, love,” he demonstrated, moving his wrist in a semi-circle motion, making the box levitate off the counter.

Another pet name. You ignored the butterflies in your stomach in favour of clearing your throat, squaring your shoulders and pointing your wand at the same box George had just made float, which was now settled back against the counter. Imitating the boy beside you, you moved your wrist in a swift semi-circle. Suddenly, a golden light poured from the tip of the wand and warm air surrounded you, gently blowing your hair back and forcing a laugh of disbelief to leave your lips. George stood wide eyed beside you, his lips parted slightly. He was amazed really, he went through five wands before he found the one that fit him, yet you’d found yours on the first try, and he had to admit; you looked glorious doing it.

After paying for your wand, you exited the shop, looking around George’s side at the list he was holding. From what you could make out, Cecillia had added a number of items to the originally very short list; 1) a wand, 2) a pendulum (crystal of the ladies choice), 3) crystals: labradorite, lapis lazuli & azurite, 4) mugwort, 5) new tarot deck (again, whatever she wants Sirius can afford it ;)).

“Suppose our next stop is the divination shop,” George said, mostly to himself but gave you a mischievous smile, “If we hurry up and get our shopping done fast we could probably get a butterbeer in before we rejoin the rest of the Order,” he sang, grazing his hand against yours as you walked side by side.

“Beer? You seriously want to drink beer at half eight in the morning?” You asked him, your eyebrow raised and he replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes and draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close against his side and once again leaning his head down so his lips were level with your eye.

“No, you git,” he began with a laugh, “It’s not really beer, it’s pretty sweet; most wizards love it.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, “Sounds nice,” you told him absently, preoccupied with all the intriguing shops that surrounded you. George’s arm remained wrapped around your shoulder as you strolled further into Diagon Alley, seemingly uninterested in his offer for a butterbeer. The pair of you got what you needed from the shop and, since it hadn’t taken long, you decided to take George up on his drinks offer. You noticed that he seemed a little bit crestfallen since your noncommittal answer earlier.

“Hey,” you said, bumping your arm against his.

“Hello,” he replied, returning the gesture.

“So… d’you wanna go get one of those beer things that you were talking about earlier?” You asked nervously, your lip between your teeth. For all you knew, asking someone to grab a butterbeer in the wizarding world was the muggle equivalent to proposing.

George flashed you a grin that was almost childlike, it was mesmerising, so sweet and pure and you almost wished you’d brought your camera to take a picture of it. “I thought you’d never ask.”

With a giggle you let him grab your hand and lead you excitedly towards a building that had “The Leaky Cauldron” written above the door. When you got inside, George led you to a small round table with two chairs and you both sat down opposite each other. As casually as you could, you rested your elbow against the table and let your cheek rest against your fist, for a solid few minutes, while George ordered, you curiously looked around the pub until your gaze finally rested on George who was already looking at you with a soft smile, “Having fun?” He asked, genuinely curious.

You nodded your head, “Mhm, are you? I’m sure getting up at the crack of dawn to take me shopping isn’t something someone like you would usually like to do for fun,” you said, becoming slightly self conscious when you realised that he probably wasn’t enjoying the morning as much as you were. This was all normal for him, you’d nearly forgotten.

George gave you a perplexed look, “Course I’m having fun, love. But, what do you mean someone like me?”

You shrugged, once again pushing down the butterflies that arose in your stomach from the pet name, “I dunno, you’re just- you’re mischievous and fun and… I don’t know, shopping for stuff with me doesn’t seem like it’s something you’d want to do. I just hope Sirius didn’t force you into it,” you admitted shyly, smiling gratefully at the waiter when he placed the mugs of golden liquid on the table.

George chewed on his bottom lip for a second before he shook his head, “He didn’t force me. I sort of, well, I sort of forced him to let me take you. He wanted Professor Lupin to do it but I…” he let out an exaggerated sigh before giving you a smile, “I wanted to spend time with you,” he confessed sweetly, watching happily as a smile formed on your lips and you tried to hide it in the rim of your butterbeer. He laughed when your face lit up once the liquid hit your lips, “Like it?”

“This stuff is amazing,” you almost shouted, taking another large sip from the drink, “No wonder you all love it so much.”

George snickered, “Just in case it wasn’t clear; I’m having a lot of fun with you,” he said all too casually, taking a sip of his drink.

“Where to now?” You wondered, after you’d finished your drinks and set off back towards the floo network.

George shot you a cheeky look and wiggled his eyebrows, “I’m taking you back to headquarters.”

“Sounds ominous,” you commented, following him into the fireplace, nervously.

“D’you want a tip?” George asked out of the blue and you looked up at him expectantly, nodding. “The dizziness isn’t as bad if you keep your eyes open,” he whispered, taking your hand once again and throwing down the same green powder from earlier and shouting a new location that you hadn’t heard before. You cringed as the world began to spin, listening to George’s advice hadn’t helped much as the transportation was just as awful as it had been the first time. Unbeknownst to you, you were squeezing George’s hand like your life depended on it, George’s thumb had resumed brushing circles around your hand in response, the harsh squeezing didn’t bother him at all, not when it was you doing the squeezing. Just like earlier, George led you out of the fireplace and into the unfamiliar sitting room. Though the room was completely unfamiliar it was full of faces you immediately recognised, one face in particular standing out above all the rest.

In a second you’d dropped not only George’s hand, but all of your shopping bags to the floor carelessly and hurled yourself towards the boy who had already begun rushing towards you the second he caught sight of you appearing in the fireplace. Your bodies collided with so much force that you nearly sent each other tumbling to the ground, laughter sounded from both of you as you swayed the other, almost roughly, the way you always did when reuniting after an extended period of time.

“Glad to see you in one piece, Harry,” you told him with a cheeky smile on your lips, opting not to call him Haz in front of all of his wizard friends lest they tease him, not to mention you’d become quite possessive of the nickname, you wouldn’t be too pleased if anyone else started adopting it. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud.

“Yeah, you too,” his smile was as wide as could be when he shook his head, “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Do you want me to pinch you?” You teased, jokingly taking his cheek between your thumb and your pointer, giving the skin between them a gentle squeeze. Harry swatted your hand away with a low chuckle and unraveled his arms from around you.

“Alright, you two, if you’re ready we have some matters we need to discuss with our newest member,” Sirius’ voice sounded from behind you, a knowing look on his face as he watched Harry sneakily pinch your arm in retaliation. He had to fight the urge he felt to reminisce on his old school days; when he’d purposely annoy James, Remus or Peter and receive the exact same mockingly vengeful look that you’d just given Harry.

“I’ll bring your things to the kitchen,” George announced, reminding you of his presence before he walked rather quickly out of the room, bags clutched in his hands.

Harry snorted out a laugh when Sirius followed George out of the room, leaving the both of you alone. Harry wiggled his eyebrows and did his best to make his voice take on a sultry tone, “he’s bringing your things to the kitchen.”

“Shut your mouth, Potter,” you replied, pinching his cheek for the second time and tossing your arm around his shoulder, him doing the same as he led you to what you assumed was the kitchen.

“Do I have your permission to open my mouth to tell you something,” Harry asked lightly, stopping so you were both standing outside a closed wooden door.

“I’ll allow it,” you answered, smiling softly at your best friend.

Harry grinned, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Haz,” the boy groaned at the name but made no further comment, he pushed the wooden door open and walked inside.

The room held a long table where many adults were sat, chatting in hushed whispers when you entered the room, some of whom you recognised and some you didn’t. Mrs. Weasley was fluttering about the table, filling people’s tea cups before she spotted you. The woman, who you’d only ever met briefly at King’s Cross station one year, rushed over to you and greeted you warmly, “Hello, dear! Come, come sit down!” She ushered you to a vacant chair beside George and across from Fred, Harry took the seat on your other side. “I trust you got everything you needed from Diagon Alley? I hope that son of mine didn’t cause any trouble for you,” you gave her a friendly smile and shook your head.

“Yes, we were able to find what we needed and George was very helpful,” Mrs. Weasley, seemingly satisfied with your answer, offered a gentle smile to you and George. She then pushed a cup of tea towards you before sitting down herself.

Beneath the table George bumped his knee lightly against yours, but didn’t break from his conversation with his twin as he left his knee pressed against yours. You didn’t draw attention to it either, simply letting your knee relax against his as the witches and wizards at the long table grew quiet in favour of staring at you wordlessly.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard the news of the seer we’ve acquired,” Sirius’ commanding voice broke the silence as he stood up from his chair, and placed his palms against the table, “I’ve brought her here today so that we may discuss proceedings to ensure her safety.”

“Yes,” a toneless drawl, drawn out nasally from the end of the table drew your attention to a black haired man at the opposite end of the table, “and what of Mr. Potter’s presence?” He asked, almost menacingly. Right off the bat, you didn’t like the greasy haired man. He was rigid and his face sported a permanent snarl and from across the table you could already tell; he wasn’t on your side.

“She’s my best friend, I’m here to make sure she’s not going to be put in any unnecessary danger,” Harry told the man shortly, in a tone that he’d more than likely perfected after having spoken to the man previously.

“As touching as that may be,” the older man snarled, “you are not a member of the Order.”

“Oh, enough, Serverus,” Sirius scoffed, pulling his hand down his face in exasperation before he let his eyes settle on Harry, “Perhaps you should wait upstairs for now. We’ll let you know of any significant updates.”

“I’ll tell you everything later, promise,” you whispered quietly, linking his pinky with yours beneath the table before he stropily took his leave.

“As I was saying,” Sirius spared Severus a glare and continued, “As we know, Yn is an unregistered wizard with an unregistered wand, meaning she won’t be on the radar of The Ministry of Magic. On the downside of this, seeing as her power manifested late, she is also untrained.”

All gazes fell to you once more, only Remus’ eyes were staring softly, crinkled at the edges from the smile on his lips, “I’ll be tutoring her in Defence Against the Dark Arts over the summer. She’ll catch up quickly, no doubt,” you smiled gratefully at him from your spot, relaxing a bit knowing that you’d actually be learning how to defend yourself the wizard way.

“I suppose I will be tasked with teaching the art of Occlumency? A seer with an easily accessible mind is hardly an asset,” Severus drawled. You didn’t have a clue what occlumency was, in all honesty, but you kept your mouth shut in favour of asking Remus when the meeting was over.

The meeting soon drew to a close, the older Order members slinking to one end of the table to arrange the schedule for your glorified summer school while you, Fred and George snuck away to find Harry. You found him sitting against the headboard of a bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms, “How’d it go?”

“Take a guess, mate, Snape had a right sour look on his face the whole time,” Fred answered, sitting on the bed across from Harry’s. George sat beside him and you made your way to sit with Harry.

“Ah, so that was the infamous professor Snape?” All three boys nodded, looks of exhaustion on their faces, “I don’t trust him. Something is very off about him,” you spoke thoughtfully and the boys nodded in agreement once again.

“I don’t like the idea of you being alone with him,” George said, his brows furrowed.

Fred snorted and clapped his twin roughly on the shoulder, “Getting a bit jealous are you, Georgie?” Harry laughed along with Fred while you blushed lightly and George felt heat rising up the nape of his neck.

“Sod off,” he muttered, but made no attempt to deny that he was slightly jealous of all the alone time his old evil potions professor would be getting with the girl he was harbouring feelings for.

The afternoon quickly turned into the evening and before long you were gathering your things and preparing to return to Cecillia’s. Harry would be heading back to the Dursley’s later that night, much to his dismay. You told him you’d be back on Privet Drive at some point the next morning since Cecillia would be dropping you home, as she promised your parents, so he wouldn’t have to suffer alone for too long.

That summer came and went in a bit of a blur. Two days in each week were spent learning how to protect yourself against the dark arts with Remus. He’s an amazing teacher, that couldn’t be disputed. In the space of only two months he had you duelling like you’d been doing it since the day you were born. Of course, you were thrilled to be bonding with your wand and developing (according to Remus) a very impressive skill for Defence Against the Dark Arts. But, on top of that, the shared conversations and exchanging of stories over hefty mugs of hot chocolate with the werewolf had been a huge highlight of your summer, and had caused the two of you to grow exponentially closer.

September was nearing and with it came a stiff breeze that prompted the hair on your arms to stand alert as you waited by the bus stop, the one just down the road from your house. Today was to be an important lesson with Remus, he hadn’t told you what the lesson would entail, but he had said that it was a charm that was “of the utmost importance”.

Although June, July and August were technically your summer holidays, you’d barely had a second to rest. You were, at this point, running on fumes and sheer will power. Extensively using magic was bound to wear you out, however, getting a good night’s rest after a gruelling training session had become something of a luxury for you. Visions of the future and retellings of past torments plagued your dreams and allowed you no time to rest. One vision in particular had been reoccurring, it arrived every night for the past two weeks, taunting you. The autumn chill that dripped down your spine reminded you of the premonition, having your hairs standing due to fright, rather than cold. It was always the same, no details ever shifted or warped and, unfortunately, the experience never grew any less harrowing. The warning that the vision brought about weighed on you heavily and followed you around like a stray cat. Images of a cold, desolate, blue-hued cellar lived behind your eyes, the phantom feeling of freezing metal shackles weighed on your wrists painfully and the undiluted terror combined with the indescribable agony brought about by the unfamiliar wand shoved against your throat had you forcing yourself to stay awake until you physically couldn’t anymore, each and every night. Nobody knew about the vision, you didn’t want to worry them, though, you knew that your distress was beginning to become visible; dark bags were prominent beneath your eyes, Harry had watched you fall asleep in the middle of the day, often on his shoulder, almost everyday that week and Remus could tell by the sluggish movements of your wand that your mind was elsewhere.

A few minutes passed before your bus arrived, the journey to Grimmauld Place was quite long but you couldn’t seem to warm up to floo travel, so going on a regular bus was the better option. When the red double decker pulled up, you greeted the driver with a smile and paid for your ticket. You made your way up to the second story and sat right at the front. The bus, as it normally tended to be, was empty. Resting your head against the window, you let your eyes slip shut, the noises of tree branches brushing against the speeding windows lulling you into a, hopefully, peaceful sleep.

Thankfully when you woke up, no visions lingered. You woke up just in time too as the bus was rounding up to your stop. As usual, Remus waited for you at the bus stop, his hands shoved deep in his tattered jacket pockets and a gentle smile on his lips.

Still groggy from your nap, when you exited the bus you greeted Remus with a tired wave.

“Dare I say you haven’t been sleeping well, dear?” He said gently, walking alongside you towards the house.

You thought about it for a second, perhaps telling someone wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. “I’ve just, well, I’ve been having this nightmare,” you started, growing nervous just thinking about it.

“Nightmare or vision?” He pressed as you walked into the house.

Guilt creeped into your chest upon seeing the clear worry on his face, “I think it’s a vision.”

Remus nodded quietly, placing his hand on the small of your back and pushing you in the direction of the living room. He gave you a warm smile, when you sat down on the sofa. He grabbed a blanket that hung over the back of the sofa and draped it over your lap. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate and we can discuss this,” he suggested.

“I thought you had an important lesson for today?” He only shook his head, smiling lightly.

He made his way to the door wordlessly and returned within two minutes with two big, steaming mugs in his hands. Remus handed you a mug and sat down beside you on the sofa, accepting your invitation to pull the blanket over his lap too.

“Now tell me; what has been going on in that wonderful mind of yours?”

You took in a deep breath, staring into the hot chocolate and avoiding his understanding gaze, “It happened for the first time around two weeks ago. I thought that it was just a dream, it didn’t feel like a dream but I thought that if I kept telling myself it was I would start to believe it,” you started, taking a sip of your drink before going back to staring at it, “But it kept coming back. Every night for the last two weeks. I haven’t been able to sleep, I’ve been too scared to,” your voice was small as you made the confession. You hated that the feeling of helplessness was beginning to wash over you yet again.

“What happens in this vision?” At his question, you placed your cup on the floor and turned to face him fully, turning on the sofa and pulling your knees up to your chest.

“It’s always the same. I wake up and the first thing I know is that I’m absolutely freezing. I’m in this cellar-like thing. I’m chained up by my wrists and my feet are barely touching the ground… I can’t see anyone but I can feel-“ your breath hitched and you rushed the swipe the tears that were falling away from your cheeks, “I can feel a wand against my throat, it’s pressing hard. There’s a whisper, it’s quiet and ghostly and I can barely make it out but I hear them say; crucio.”

Remus’ eyes widened in horror.

“Then I feel nothing but agonising pain and then I wake up,” Remus’ eyebrows furrowed.

“You’ve had this same vision every night?” You nodded.

“I know I should have said something but I didn’t want anyone to worry,” it was then that Remus grabbed your hands and looked at you with a sense of urgency you didn’t know he could possess.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully,” his eyes were wild and his hands shook lightly as they held yours, “You-Know-Who is back. There are already reports of certain Wizards going missing and none of us have any doubt that it’s his doing. And although I- we- care for you a great deal, it would serve us all well to remember that you’re a detrimental piece in this war. If he catches wind of you, he’ll stop at nothing to take you from us,” your heart was now running at the speed of a hummingbird. “We have a plan in place to keep you safe, I fear we may have to implement it sooner than planned.”

Before you knew it, you were surrounded by the entire Order of the Phoenix, all of whom looked grave. Cecillia sat to your right while Nymphadora Tonks occupied the seat to your left. You had the pink haired auror to thank for your duelling capabilities, as well as Remus of course. Her presence was comforting, she made it a point to shoot you a wink every time she caught your eyes looking more fearful than usual.

“Our original plan will need to be tweaked, I ran into Narcissa Malfoy in Diagon Alley and she very plainly insinuated that I was a person of interest in the death eating community,” Cecillia informed the table, a, for lack of a better word, bitchy tone laced in her voice. She’d told you many of her Hogwarts stories, you could recall her telling you that she and the woman she’d mentioned, Narcissa, had once been good friends until around their fourth year. She hadn’t told you what exactly had happened, only that it had been messy.

“What was the original plan?” You asked, growing frustrated with the Order’s lack of communication skills.

Thankfully, being one of the younger members of the group, Tonks understood your frustrations and spoke up on behalf of the group, regardless of whether they were ready for you to know or not; she understood that it was your life they were coordinating.

“We talked about relocating you to CeCe’s. We also, and far more pressingly, planned on erasing all traces of you from both the muggle and wizard world. Which would mean using a memory charm on your family and friends in the muggle world,” Tonks explained, eyes locked on yours while everyone else in the room glared daggers at the purple haired girl.

“Yes. Though we also planned on telling you this information with a far more delicate approach,” Snapped Molly Weasley from the end of the table, causing Fred, who sat to her left, to roll his eyes.

“She’s been riddled with visions of being ruthlessly tortured with an unforgivable curse for the past two weeks. I think the time for delicacy is long passed,” the older of the two twins practically scoffed. George nodded in agreement.

“Besides,” he set his gaze on you, eyes genuine and unwavering as he spoke, “she’s strong enough to handle the truth. It’s time you all stopped acting like she isn’t.”

The table fell silent. His words hung in the air as many of the adults hung their heads.

“By memory charm I’m assuming you mean obliviate?” You broke the silence, if you could you hoped to start an open conversation with the experienced witches and wizards that surrounded you.

“Yes. They’re completely reversible and once the war is over I’ll restore all of the memories.” Cecillia said.

“We know it’s a huge ask, dear, but it’s our best chance at keeping you out of that wretched creature’s hands,” Molly attempted to soothe both you and herself when she pictured what it would like to be in your shoes, how she’d feel if she had no other choice but to be forgotten by the thing she valued the most; her family. Molly Weasley had never been very good at hiding her maternal instincts, over the summer that fact had become glaringly obvious to you. You and Harry had laughed about how the children of Privet Drive had a special place in her heart.

“I understand,” you told her sadly, chewing on the inside of your lip, “I’m guessing by the atmosphere in the room that I won’t be home to say goodbye before you wipe their memories,” you shifted yours eyes from person to person, stopping when Cecillia took your hand firmly in hers.

Her lips were downturned and her eyes filled with guilt, she shook her head mournfully, “I’m afraid we can’t risk it, my darling. Even being here places you in danger at the moment.”

“Where will she go then? If CeCe’s place isn’t an option we’ll have to find a safe house,” Sirius sounded and, simultaneously, both Fred and George stood up, shoulder to shoulder with very professional expressions on their faces.

“We may be able to help with that, actually. George, if you would,” Fred started, nodding to his twin who straightened his shoulders and puffed his chest out over so slightly.

“Thank you, Fred. As you know, we have a property for Weasley Wizard Wheezes secured and we’ll be living in the flat above where the shop will be,” everyone at the table, including yourself, stared at the twins in confusion, not quite sure where they were going with their little pitch until Fred took over again.

“And that flat has three bedrooms,” he said, a smirk growing on his thin lips.

George spoke again, “Which means there’s one for me and one for Fred.”

“Which means there’s one spare,” Fred grinned wickedly.

Tonks let out an impressed laugh once the penny finally dropped, “We apparate her in and nobody would ever know a thing. Nobody other than those of us in the room know that Y/n is a friend of the Weasley’s, plus us visiting the joke shop wouldn’t raise any suspicion. I have to give it to them, it’s a great idea,”

“And one of the two of us will always be within shouting distance if anything happens,” George added, somewhat pleadingly.

Sirius looked across the table at you, “Y/n, it’s up to you. Whatever you decide will be final, we won’t interfere,” he promised sincerely. It was an easy decision, but still, it weighed heavily on your chest. In all honesty, you weren’t worried about your location, staying with the twins would surely be a light and fun time amidst all the doom and gloom. Your worry was that you would, once again, be handing over your control. Sirius dressed it up as though it was your choice, but you knew that this was probably their best option and in reality you really had no other choice than to move in with Fred and George.

“Sounds good to me,” you whispered halfheartedly, eyes dropping to stare at your lap as your teeth pulled anxiously at the skin of your lips.

“So it’s settled then,” Remus said, “Y/n will go with Fred and George tonight.”

Abruptly, you pushed your chair away from the table and stood up. Sparing nobody a glance, you left the room as quickly as you possibly could, before the lump in your throat could choke you or the tears that pooled in your eyes spilled like water through a broken dam. George made a move to rise from his seat only for Remus to stop him by placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Give her a moment.”

You found yourself locked in the second story bathroom, sitting in the bath. Your legs hung out over the side of the tub while your head was tilted back against the black tiled wall. As hard as you tried to prevent them, tears were streaming down the expense of your cheeks, neck and beneath the neckline of your shirt. The minutes ticked by yet your chest continued to rise and fall rapidly due to the sobs that shook it, your breath uneven. Visions of brutal torture were bad enough when you were in your own home, in your own warm bed, with your parents just a room away and ready to make you a hot cup of tea after you woke up screaming. Now, the visions would without a doubt continue to plague you, unlike before though, you wouldn’t be waking up in a familiar setting, nor would you fall asleep in the comfort of your own mattress, when you woke up screaming so loud that your throat grew raw, your comfort would rely on two seventeen year old boys who seldom took things seriously. It’s not that you didn’t trust them, no, you trusted them with your life- you are trusting them with your life, it’s just that there was already a lot going on in your mind at the moment, moving in with your crush and his identical twin brother isn’t exactly your idea of a nerve killer.

A knock against the bathroom door pulled you from your thoughts. You rushed to wipe your tears with your sleeves, sniffling, “Come in,” you choked out. Cursing your voice for breaking when you spoke.

Remus’ head poked through the door, his body following soon after. Even in an atmosphere as dense as this one, a sense of gentle calm always followed Remus wherever he went. Clumsily, the werewolf slid into the bath beside you with a low “oof” sound, mimicking your position with his much longer legs dangling closer to the wooden floor than your own.

“CeCe has gone to collect your things for you and get Harry, then, I believe, perform the spell,” he eyed you cautiously, hyper aware of your glassy eyes and puffy face. When your eyes widened and you whipped your face towards him, his stomach twisted into knots, he hated seeing you like this. He could sympathise with your feelings. When James and Lily were killed, and Sirius went to Azkaban and even when Peter was presumed dead, Remus had been left with a vicious frustration fuelled by his belief that he was utterly powerless in his own life. He could see in your eyes that that same notion was starting to creep up on you too.

“Already?” You gasped out, pulse rising again, a slight panic setting in. “It won’t hurt them will it? The spell?” You fretted, looking pleadingly to the man beside you.

He shook his head, tenderly taking your hand and placing it against his clothed chest, his beating heart present against the palm of your shaking hand. “I promise you that they won’t feel a thing. They will go on living an exciting life, travelling, seeing the world safely while you’re away. When this is all over we’ll place their memories of you back in their minds and it will be as though you were never gone.” Your teeth found the inside of your cheek again, gnawing relentlessly at the skin as you failed miserably to hold back a fresh set of tears. Remus squeezed the hand he held against his chest. “Let it out, Y/n. It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone,” he whispered, heart sinking lower when your bottom lip quivered and you let a rasped sob leave your body. With a deep sigh, Remus used the hand he was already holding as leverage to pull you into him, wasting no time he enveloped you in his arms, holding you securely as you cried against his chest. Admittedly, it felt good to let it out, Remus’ hand rubbed soothing circles against your heaving back and eventually, you didn’t know how long it had been, you calmed down, your tear ducts all dried out.

Remus held you in his arms for a while longer, even though you’d stopped crying, he could feel your body as it continued to shake. “I can’t promise you it will all be okay, but I can assure you that myself and Sirius, and everyone else for that matter, will be there for you at the drop of a hat; whatever you need,” he spoke against your hair.

“Whatever I need?” You echoed, the pit in your stomach ever growing.

“Of course,” he confirmed.

Remus startled slightly when you suddenly tore yourself away from him. As best you could in your awkward position, you turned to face him and grabbed his hands with as much urgency as he had done with yours. “I need you to do something for me,” Remus furrowed his brows in confusion, but nodded his head anyway.

“If anything happens to me… Don’t make them remember,” you instructed, maybe the request would’ve seemed radical if you had said it to anyone else, but you knew that Remus had experienced losses like no one else you knew, perhaps Harry came close but even his shortcomings couldn’t compare to Remus’. “It’d only cause them pain. If I die and they’re happily living none the wiser, leave them be, please,” the man let out a heavy sigh and took a moment to take you in. Your eyes were hard yet pleading, they left him no room to negotiate and he understood perfectly where you were coming from.

“Alright,” he agreed before raising his eyebrow and readjusting himself to get a better look at you, “However you should know; no matter what may come of this war, none of us will forget about you. In such a short time you’ve given us so much… you gave Harry his first friendship, a friendship that he cherishes more than anything in the world, I might add. You saved Sirius from death, my fiancé and Harry’s godfather. Mentoring you has given Cecillia a new lease of life and Molly Weasley one more child to knit jumpers for at Christmas,” he took a brief pause then went on, “For the sake of saving time I won’t even begin to tell you what you mean to the twins. My point is;” there was a melancholic type of smile on his face when he paused again, as if he was imagining what it would be like to remember you fondly if you did in fact die for the cause, “What you’re asking is incredibly selfless. And while your mother and father may not remember how wonderful you are, we all will.” Remus chuckled lowly when you shuffled your way back into his arms, squeezing his middle tightly. He slung his arm around your shoulders and delicately pressed his lips to the top of your head. You held so much love in your heart for the man who was currently cradling you in his arms. You debated telling him, you weren’t sure if it was entirely appropriate but after the speech he’d just given you couldn’t have cared less, “Remus?”

“Hm?”

“I love you,” you murmured, looking up at him innocently.

He offered you a toothy smile and breathed out a soft laugh, “I love you too.” With a content nod, you rested your head back against his chest, enjoying his soothing heartbeats against your ear. A melodic hum rumbled against your cheek, a quiet giggle left your mouth when you recognised the melody to the song he was humming. The tune of “Rhiannon” by Fleetwood Mac floated through the bathroom bringing a genuine smile to your lips. The werewolf’s humming was interrupted by another knock against the bathroom door, whoever was knocking didn’t wait for a response before entering the room. Sirius stepped in and quietly shut the door behind him. He didn’t question you and Remus' position in the bath but simply slid into the tub on the other side of you, sandwiching you between himself and Remus. The black haired man let out a heavy sigh and leaned his head back against the tiles.

“The mother hens downstairs are worrying up a storm,” he said in exasperation, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tonks so riled up about someone’s safety. I tasked Molly with making you some hot chocolate to keep her occupied”

“Maybe I should go back down…” you muttered halfheartedly, begrudgingly peeling yourself away from Remus’ warm body.

Sirius gave you an apologetic look, “I held them off for as long as I could.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, bumping your shoulder to his, making him chuckle. After pulling yourself out of the bath, rather clumsily, you took a second to check yourself over in the mirror.

“You’re glowing, darling,” Sirius all but sang from behind you and you couldn’t stop the slight snort that escaped you.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“If you don’t believe me go on downstairs and ask George what he thinks,” Sirius teased, wiggling his eyebrows and receiving a light shove from his fiancé who couldn’t hide his grin.

“Leave her alone, love,” he chastised weakly, “You look perfectly fine, Y/n. Go downstairs and get something to drink, you need to rehydrate.” A bittersweet smile broke out on your lips, his fatherly tone simultaneously soothed you and left you yearning for what you were in the process of losing. Trying not to dwell on the sad fact, you left the bathroom and slowly descended the stairs.

As you assumed, the second you stepped back into the kitchen, Molly began to fret over you as if her life depended on it. Sipping on the hot chocolate she’d given you, you were reminded of how desperately tired you were. All the crying hadn’t helped ease the heaviness in your eyes either. Every bone in your body felt heavy for that matter, you were struggling to even hold your head up.

“You can lean against my shoulder if you’d like,” George’s voice broke you from your hazed state, you’d completely forgotten he was sitting beside you despite his leg that was pressed against yours beneath the table. You gave him a sleepy but grateful smile, as subtly as you could you scooched closer to the ginger and slotted yourself against his side, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. “Will you keep me awake until Harry and Cecillia get here?” You requested in a slurred murmur, your eyes fluttering between open and shut.

“Of course,” was all he said, he looked down at you adoringly, smiling like an idiot when you nuzzled into his shoulder, your nose rubbing against his neck. Try as he might, George couldn’t pull his eyes away from your drowsy face. “What do you propose we do?”

You shrugged your shoulders lightly, “Just talk.”

“How would you like your new room decorated?” He asked quietly, his head tilted down while he spoke to you, so you could hear him and so he wouldn’t ruin the lulled bubble you’d managed to obtain between you by talking too loudly. A sweet smile grew on your face, a smile that all but knocked all the breath out of George’s lungs when you angled your head to make eye contact.

“Can I have a double bed?” George snorted at your question and shook his head no.

“Nothing smaller than a king. What else?”

You pretended to ponder for a moment, “Can we paint it?” The ginger nodded, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

“If you want to,” he started, almost sounding nervous, “We could paint it together?” Even in your sleep deprived state you hadn’t missed the vulnerability in his voice, it was the same vulnerability that you’d noticed when he’d asked you to go get a butterbeer with him a couple of months ago.

“I’d love that,” you told him, your answer causing his lips to twist into a pleased smile, “How do you feel about the colour green?”

Immediately, his smile dropped and he let out a disgusted scoff, “Green is a Slytherin colour.”

“You keep forgetting that I don’t get the whole house sorty thing,” you reminded him, not happy with his reasoning for hating your favourite colour. “Besides, I love green, it’s my favourite colour.” You told him truthfully. Not content with his disgruntled facial expression you began to defend your preference, “A lot of beautiful things are green; you’ve got grass, trees, emeralds- did you know that emeralds are really useful for enhancing psychic abilities? It also evokes clarity of thought,” you rambled, willing yourself to be quiet when you registered George’s fond expression.

The look of endearment aimed at you brought butterflies to life in your stomach, effectively waking you up somewhat.

“Do you have any emerald?” He asked, you assumed he was only feigning interest, you didn’t know that he could’ve listened to you go on and on about anything and everything for the rest of his life.

“No, not yet. I should probably get some though.” You said through a yawn. Your breath against his neck made him giggle, it was pure and unsuspecting but you took note of it. Everything about George Weasley felt like sunshine to you, his laugh filled your chest with warmth whenever you heard it, his eyes found yours like a lighthouse, guiding your lost mind back to the present each time your gazes connected. His voice, like his laugh, warmed you up when you were cold, giving you a reason to stay awake when you’d rather just slip away. In conjunction with the sun, even if you couldn’t physically see him, you never doubted that he was always there. As well as all of that, like your favourite tarot card; The Sun, he signified good things, hope that hard times will end with you on top, contentment and happiness. While your thoughts consisted of George’s similarities to the sun, his were consumed with the, in his mind, overwhelmingly cheesily romantic notion that you were the moon and the stars, he would’ve cringed if he didn’t wholeheartedly believe it. Everything that made the night sky magnificent was reflected in you. Like the stars, you were mysterious and captivating. Nothing seemed to compare to your glow or beauty, if you were to ask him what he preferred; you or the night sky on a clear night, he’d happily ignore a blank, starless sky in favour of simply staring at you as you went on tangent after tangent about crystals or tarot cards.

The pair of you were pulled from your musings when Harry rushed through the kitchen door looking unmistakably heartbroken, ever the empath when it came to his best friend, Harry’s heart sank the moment he laid eyes on your form, limp against George’s side. The second you saw him you all but ripped yourself from George’s side and the older redhead felt a surge of irrational jealousy begin to build in his chest at how fast you left his hold in favour of the chosen one. He knew it was ridiculous, he’d heard the way each of you respectively talked about each other, at this point you were practically siblings. But he supposed it was rational to be jealous when you liked someone the way he liked you.

Quickly, you crossed the room to Harry who had his arms already outstretched. He knew you were emotionally exhausted when you didn’t bear hug him. You meekly slid your arms beneath his open zip-up hoodie, tucked your head beneath his chin and didn’t say a word. “I shouldn’t bother asking if you’re okay then,” Harry muttered to himself, leaning his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his lanky arms around your frame.

“Did Cecillia remember to bring Astra?” You asked, it was all you wanted to know about the night’s events.

“She’s in her cage in the living room, darling,” Cecilia said, walking into the room looking guilty.

“C’mon, let’s go have a chat,” Harry suggested, leading you out of the kitchen and upstairs to his unofficial room. Once inside the room you sat down on the edge of the bed, the blue duvet softly creasing beneath you. Harry plopped himself down beside you and offered you a gesture that was always saved for when either of you felt the other was on the edge of something dangerous. Your hands rested against your lap and he deftly slid his pinky over yours, intertwining your two littlest fingers. It was such a familiar experience; he’d done it when your grandparents died, when you’d cried over failed exams that you worked hard for, and in turn, you did it for him when he’d felt as though he had no place in the world, when he’d open up about his parents and when Cedric died and the ministry dragged his name through the mud you’d find your pinky tangled with his almost every night after he’d sneak over to your place after another nightmare or panic attack. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, “Not tonight. I don’t want to cry anymore,” you croaked out, looking straight ahead of you at the grey painted wall.

“I understand,” he said, sighing and dropping his head onto your shoulder, “Let’s talk about something else then.”

“Like what, Haz?”

Harry snorted out a chuckle, “Like the way George looked like he wanted to hex me when you left him to come to me,” he teased, a smug lilt to his voice.

“He wasn’t teasing me, perhaps I’ll go back to him,” you grumbled, ignoring Harry’s childish giggles.

“Yeah you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You smacked his arm lightly with your free hand, doing a bad job of containing giggles of your own. “Don’t worry, since he’s going to be your new roommate there will be plenty of time for “oh George I’m so sleepy, please hold me until I fall asleep”,” you let out a cackle at Harry’s terrible impression of your voice, laying your cheek against his wild hair.

“That is so not what was going on, Haz,” you defended with a tiny smile.

Harry let out an airy, disbelieving chuckle, “Then what was going on?”

“He just said I could lean on him until you and Cecillia arrived and we just started chatting about how I wanna decorate my room,” you explained truthfully and Harry nodded.

“Riveting,” he mumbled sarcastically. Despite his snarky comment, the boy removed his head from your shoulder and pulled you against his chest. “Jokes aside, I’m glad you’re staying with him, I know he’ll look after you for me,” you rolled your eyes at the sentiment.

“I don’t need to be looked after,” you reminded him, looking up at him with a chastising smile.

He rolled his eyes right back at you, jostling you slightly in his arms, “No. But you like to be.”

You threw your head back in laughter, “Yeah, I suppose I do.” You did. You quite like both doting on people and being doted on, you’d grown up in an affectionate family so it was no wonder really.

“It’s getting late. We should get you settled into your new home,” Harry announced, pulling himself and you up from the bed, “I wasn’t going to say anything but you look terrible. You need sleep.”

“Thank you, Harry. Just what every girl wants to hear before moving in with her crush,” you joked, gently hitting your hip against his.

The kitchen was quiet when you returned, it seemed everyone had grown tired from the dramatic events of the evening.

“Ready to go then?” Fred asked, his coat already on and a handful of your bags in his hands.

“As I’ll ever be I suppose.”

After saying goodbye to everyone you, Fred and George traveled to their apartment by floo, to your dismay. The apartment was bare as they’d only just moved in but you could see it had lots of potential for becoming a cozy home for the twins.

As your first night in your new residence began, your aching eyes and tired mind didn’t leave you with any time to dwell on current events, the second your head made contact with the pillow you were out like a light. A dreamless slumber welcomed you for a while until your peace was broken by the all too familiar nightmare.

The first thing you recognised was the burn coming from your wrists. Shackles adorned them and effectively held your hands high above your head, stretching them uncomfortably. Goosebumps painted the expanse of your arms and legs, due to the freezing temperature in the nondescript cellar. A feeling of hopelessness planted firmly in your chest, the feeling only hightening when the familiar echo of footsteps, heavy and loud, drifted from the corridor outside of your field of vision. You knew who was approaching, you’ve lived this before, and so, you held your lip between your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut. The face of the dark wizard who always brought about your intense suffering was, for the most part, completely fuzzy, unrecognisable, featureless and bone-chillingly terrifying. You’d learned over the last two weeks of having this vision that it was less harrowing if you closed your eyes.

“I’ll ask you once more,” The voice was distorted, like it was being heard through a weedy radio, ominously unplaceable, “Where is he?”

You held no control over your voice, as was the norm during visions, as you felt and heard yourself reply, “I’ll tell you once more; I’d sooner die then sell him to you.” You felt your teeth gritting and your jaw clenching while you spoke. Jaw only tightening when the pointed tip of the wizard’s wand stabbed unforgivingly against the column of your neck.

“And die you will, my dear. But not yet-“ your eyes sealed themselves shut and you did your best to shake yourself out of the vision before what you knew was coming took place, as usual, your attempts were fruitless, “-Crucio.” Just like that your body was consumed by pain, the likes of which you’d never imagined possible, until you couldn’t even register yourself screaming anymore.

You bolted upright, clutching at the sheets of your new bed. Laboured breaths left your mouth and you aimlessly gripped at your neck, where the wand had been pressed, and let the tears spill freely. Momentarily disoriented, you’d forgotten where you were. Deep, heavy bursts of air left your mouth as you hastily scurried out of bed and towards the door. Somewhat aimlessly, you gravitated to the door across the hall. A yellow hue seeped from under the frame into the otherwise dark hallway. Light flooded the hall once you managed to fumble the handle down and pull the door ajar, a discombobulated ginger greeting you with half lidded eyes, obviously having been dozing off before you disturbed his peace.

“Sorry,” you rasped once your peace of mind returned to you and you realised where you were. Despite knowing that you shouldn’t have been standing numbly in his doorway, your feet seemed to be rooted in place, you couldn’t have walked away if you wanted to.

“S’alright,” George called out to you softly, sitting up in his bed, his back against the headboard. “You can come in, you know.”

Shutting the door behind you, you nervously shuffled into the room, stopping when you reached the side of his bed. George’s eyes roamed your face and he took notice of your still somewhat panicked expression, he drew his covers to the side and patted the empty space by his side. Something that always intrigued you was people’s preferred side of the bed, some people gravitated towards the left while others were more biased towards the right, but George Weasley? He slept right in the middle. The twin slept with a huge number of pillows, to the point where it was almost laughable, many of which you could only guess he’d smuggled from the Burrow.

Far too wound up to save face, you slid into his bed and didn’t shy away when he guided you into his side and tucked you tenderly beneath his lean arm. His embrace offered a greatly appreciated warmth as the chill of the dank dungeon always lingered long after the vision itself was over.

“What’re you doing up so late?” You asked, your voice gravelly. As you spoke, George effortlessly shuffled your body and his down so that your backs were resting on the mattress and not the headboard. Your head found it’s home against George’s shoulder and your hair was being tentatively twirled between his fingers.

“It’s our first night actually sleeping here. I couldn’t get to sleep,” he explained, his voice low and laced with fatigue. “I’m not really used to having my own room. It’s strange not hearing Freddie snoring or breathing.”

“I get that,” you whispered, “it’s quite comforting knowing for certain that someone is there with you.”

George nodded then. His eyes were glued to your face and he hadn’t even registered his own thought process before his lips were pressing delicately against your forehead. Today had appeared to be the day for laying all your cards out on the table, yourself and George hadn’t danced around your feelings for each other half as much as you usually did when you’d be in each other’s presence. Neither of you had the energy anymore, besides, if today’s events proved anything it was that; things were getting seriously messy as the war built momentum and it was clear that time was something that could very well be running out.

“Yeah,” he regarded you carefully, a little grin growing on his lips, “It is.”

A comfortable silence overtook the room. George’s twirling of your hair never ceased, every now and then his fingers would ghost over your shoulder and you’d catch yourself smiling against the cotton of his shirt as your eyes grew tired enough that they were close to falling shut.

Just as you were working up the motivation to lift yourself up and trudge back to your own bed, George spoke, “You can sleep here if you want, with me,” there was that innocent vulnerability again. There was never an ulterior motive when it came to him, he did things purely for the sake of making others happy, if he felt he could make a difference he simply needed to. Especially when it came to you, he realised.

“You don’t mind?” You asked, daring to peek up at him.

“Course not. I could use some company anyway.” He reassured you, his lips returning to your forehead, only this time the action held far more intention. “You don’t snore do you, love?”

You snorted out a giggle, looking up at the ginger cheekily, mischief dripping from your little grin that forced George’s heart to stutter rather violently and he hoped you hadn’t noticed. “No. But I drool.”

George’s face contorted, his nose scrunching up adorably in disgust, “Do you really?”

“Suppose you’ll have to find out, won’t you?” You teased and he sighed deeply, his disgruntled expression melting into a soft, adoring smile.

“I should’ve expected this, I knew you couldn’t have been completely perfect,” he said, mockingly sorrowful.

You scoffed, pushing his chest lightly, “You’re doing a lot of sweet talking tonight, Mr. Weasley,” you told him and he shrugged innocently.

“Just wanted to see you smiling again, darling.”

“Yeah, well, you’re doing a good job,” you assured him, the bashful yet tired smile that stretched your lips as you gazed up at him proved that you meant what you’d just said. “I like it by the way, the sweet talking.”

At your words, a huge, shit eating smirk grew on the boy’s freckled face. He managed to rearrange your bodies so that you were still tucked under his arm but you were now facing each other at eye level. “I knew it,” he proclaimed cockily.

You raised a challenging eyebrow, biting back a smirk, “Oh did you?”

George nodded pridefully, “‘Course I did. You see, I’m a little bit psychic,” his words forced a booming laugh from your lips, your cheeks hurting from the smile he’d orchestrated.

You shook your head, smile never dulling as you let out a chastising whisper, “oh sod off.”

“I love your smile,” he said suddenly, his eyes widened in horror when he realised he’d uttered the words out loud. The world could’ve stopped in that moment and you wouldn’t have noticed, all you could take in was George’s face, his eyes searching yours for something.

Carefully, you slid from hand from his chest to his red, blushing face. You cupped his cheek gently, moving your thumb against his cheek bone, almost swooning where you lay when he nuzzled against your touch. Working up some Gryffindor courage, George mimicked your movement, removing his arm from around your shoulder and bringing his palm to rest against the curve of your jaw.

As you stared at each other, you weighed up the pros and cons of telling him that you were completely head over heels for him. Your decision, apparently taking far too long, was made for you when George tugged you impossibly closer to him.

“I wasn’t going to tell you… you’ve had so much going on I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he said, brown eyes boring into your soul.

“Tell me what?”

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for every possible outcome that may spring once the words on the tip of his tongue are spoken aloud, “That I love you.”

[inhcritance]

“If we’re talking about regular subway rats, then those are always gonna be a thing. Don’t think I’ve ever seen any scaly rats before nor do I understand how that’d be scientifically possible, so you’re probably in luck there Mr. Osborn,” Miles mused. There was this incredibly frightening rat creature that had gone running around the underground for weeks that called itself Vermin, tormenting underground creatures, and after Peter and he had taken Vermin out of the picture, Miles could only hope and pray that he’d never see a giant, two footed rat creature crawling around the New York sewers ever again. Hell, it’d be a great day if he never had to go into the sewers for anything, period. At all. He couldn’t keep coming home smelling like indelible human waste and destroying his mom’s ability to smell. “Here you go dude,” Miles nodded, handing Harry the vial of lizard blood before heading over to the research station closet to grab a lab coat of his own. It felt kind of silly to wear a lab coat over his costume, but given that he’d actually worn his school uniform once upon a time over his black and red spider threads, this was par the course. “Feel free to geek out as much as you need to my man. I can totally keep up,” Miles gave the younger Osborn two thumbs up. He was practically a science geek himself, never forgetting the constant trials and tests that Peter put him through before he even was allowed to go web swinging through the city much less put on his own pair of web shooters. “Okay so we’re breaking down chemical compounds within the lizard blood to see if we can create some kind of antiserum or healing agent that can cure the people who’ve probably been turned into lizards, right? And we’ve got the blood directly from the source in Dr. Connors, so it shouldn’t be terribly hard if we put our heads together. But it’s your lab, your rules. Following your lead, doc.”

Harry remembered far too well the results of some experiments, in times past, not to know what scaly rats would look like. Still, it was good news, in a way: it meant that so far it was only humans being turned into lizards. He didn't want to think of the mess otherwise.

He took the vial of blood carefully, once more, then found himself somewhat amused as he turned to see the Spider-Man with a lab coat over his suit. An amusement that he soon focused away, because the situation was serious enough to demand it, and yet at least there was some good news, as the younger claimed to be able to keep up.

Harry knew better than to take it at face value, but he also knew better than to dismiss it outright. And so, as he poured half of the vial's contents into a smaller vial and then turned on the machine that would separate the blood into the plasma and the cells, he also put one of Dr. Connors' investigations on screen, the one detailing the latest written down composition of the lizard serum.

"I'm not yet a doctor, and all things considered, if you're working in my lab you can call me Harry." He offered. "I don't care much for formality when there's a job to be done, much less with lives in danger." He added. "So, give me all your thoughts. Don't be afraid to interrupt me, because if you really can keep up then your input will be invaluable."

And if he couldn't, well, Harry would gladly explain and teach, and soon he was drawing two more archives into the screen.

"This is a sample of healthy human blood." He explained, pointing at a diagram, over the rumble of the machines already on. "And this is the analysis of a sample affected by the serum, theoretically speaking. Can you notice the differences?" He asked.

There were a number of substantial alterations, mostly in the white and red cells, but that was nothing compared to the changes in the DNA proper.

"How would you go about undoing them?" He asked the other. "I have a few ideas, but humor me." He added. "You might come up with something I haven't considered just yet."

[jwonsdimple]

every summertime - yang jungwon

jungwon x reader

genre: fluff / wc: 726

summary: you go on a garden date with wonie!

a/n: inspired by the song every summertime, and by that one video where jungwon mentions that he waters the cactus he got from namjoon during i-land once a month :)

being the leader of enhypen could be quite stressful, especially at jungwon’s young age. the boys are finally getting a break after preparing relentlessly for their upcoming album. you wanted to spend some time with your boyfriend while also making sure he’s staying relaxed.

it’s a bright summer day and the weather outside was the perfect temperature, not too warm and not too cold. you thought this was a great opportunity for you two to visit the city’s local plant nursery. you remembered jungwon has cacti back in the dorm, so you thought he would enjoy looking around at more.

you found it cute, he takes care of the other boys, he takes care of his cactus, and he takes care of you. he was so caring for others you wanted to make sure he took care of himself too. what better destresser than nature?

“y/n this is a perfect date, injang passed away recently” jungwon says as you guys make your way down the rows of plants while he swings your intertwined hands back and forth.

“yeah of course.. wait, who?”

“my cactus died”

“you named your cactus.. and of all names injang..”

“it’s cute!”

“ahh.. but you’re cuter” you say as you you poke his dimple. at that, he scrunches his nose and swats your hand away. despite the reaction his cheeks obviously turned pink. you saved him from more embarrassment and didn’t mention it, continuing your search for a replacement plant.

it didn’t take long before jungwon sets his eyes on a prickly cactus. you notice there’s a matching one next to it. you pick it up, inspecting it’s spines when you hear the click of a phone. you didn’t even turn your head, still spinning the cactus around making sure it wasn’t already damaged.

“yah wonie! i know that was you. delete that”

“you look so cute when you’re focused you know y/n”

jungwon noticed that the cactus you were holding was identical to his, so he suggested you get it so you could take care of it together. you weren’t super confident with your abilities to keep a plant alive, but for the sake of your boyfriend’s happiness you caved in.

although, you did ask him if he could at least show you how to correctly plant the cactus in a pot before he had to head back to the dorm.

“remind me again why we’re at the park?” you asked as you sat down in the grass. a tree cast a large shadow above the spot you both decided to unpack on. the leaves let in just the right amount of light to highlight jungwon’s eye color, giving it a chocolate brown appearance instead of the usual dark, almost black, color it was. pretty, that was the simplest and best way to describe him at this moment.

“planting can get messy, it’s better to do this outdoors. trust me i’ve done this before”

“wasn’t replanting the reason injang died in the first place? maybe you’re not the best teacher for me after all”

“not true! injang just outgrew the pot, i raised him to be very strong”

you two get carried away in the planting process and before you know it, the sun beings to set. the summer sun and your day of fun tired the two of you out. you both lay in the grass watching the sky go from bright blue to a mix of warm yellow orange and pink.

“i had a lot of fun today y/n, thank you for this” jungwon says as he faces towards you. he gives you a small peck on your cheek, making it impossible for you to hide your smile.

his appreciation was genuine. it warmed your heart to know he enjoyed today as much as you did. you both understood before you got into a relationship that his schedule would almost always be busy as an idol, so it was at times like this where you both truly valued every moment together.

“i think we should name them”

“i thought you weren’t a fan of naming plants”

“i wasn’t a fan of YOUR name.. we should do something matching. how about ‘mint’ and ‘choco?’” you say as you look at him, but only through the corner of your eye, doing your best not to burst out in laughter.

“absolutely not”