#cause that's the wip lmao

[bartletslesbians]

Really my best advice to enjoying to write fanfiction is to just write things you think you'll genuinely enjoy reading. And then to do that, occasionally. Read and reread and reread your own fics because you spent a lot of time on them, and taking the time to read your work and read the exact perfectly-tailored-to-your-tastes fic that's right there waiting for you? Enjoy that. Appreciate that you wrote that for your own amusement, and let yourself be amused by it.

[not-equippedforthis]

gay people when they have art block but then start listening to a new podcast

[choccy-milky]

saw a couple of ppl doing these posts, so i present to you my very first attempts at drawing seb vs now.......and just looking at the old ones causes me actual physical pain😭😭 bc why does he look like hes wearing a TOUPÉE???😭 we dont talk about it....just dont go too far back in my blog im begging you

[starscream-is-my-wife]

Continuation of my other post here, the autobots have come close to figuring out that Optimus is the sire but Optimus is way too moral to spark up an subordinate so they don’t look into it more

Skywarp stole the evidence, Ratchet doesn’t notice cause he and Optimus are too busy with the baby for any fun private parties

[mirensiart]

Felt like drawing a reversed version of this other drawing of mine cause today has been A Day and I crave a wars hug lmao

[turbo-tsundere]

Chibi Gonta for the soul <3

[sparxyv]

Mousey Student ID 💙🐭

NOW 😏 time for Mousey's official introduction.. get ready for another huge infodump! (this one's even longer than Milena's I'm so sorry 😭😭)

Template by @kiwiplaetzchen !!! (Thank you again 😙🫶)

Family

Mousey is the youngest of four brothers. Clyde, Lachlan, and Magnus.

His three big brothers have long since moved out of the McGregor house, going on to become very successful each in their own ways. They were all sorted into Ravenclaw, and were all part of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team at some point in time.

Mousey's mother - Florence McGregor (née Prewett) - is Leander Prewett's father's sister (so Leander's aunt lol). She was sorted into Gryffindor!

Mousey's father - Fergus McGregor - was sorted into Slytherin when he attended Hogwarts. Naturally, he is very prideful and ambitious - oftentimes (accidentally) placing pressure on his sons to pursue things that are not in their interest to impact the family legacy in a meaningful way. Fergus genuinely cares for his sons, he's just unaware of the effect his words have on their psyche. 🙁

Fergus McGregor was a keeper for the Montrose Magpies for 3 years before Magnus was born, and after that he decided to settle down for good. Quidditch was his passion, and he was ecstatic when all his sons shared the same love for it.

The McGregors have resided in Irondale for generations! They have a quite small house for a large family - but fret not, it's bigger than it looks on the outside.

Mousey is 5 years younger than the brother closest in age to him - Clyde - while his three older brothers are each only about two years apart from each other. This feeds into Mousey feeling like an outcast in his own family. (Clyde - 20, Lachlan - 22, Magnus - 24)

Life Before Fifth Year

Growing up, Mousey had always been an exceptionally anxious AND impulsively loud child, so he found it was a miracle he made friends with Anne Sallow during his first week at Hogwarts. Anne was always terribly kind to him, helping him out when he needed a shoulder to lean on, giving him lots of encouragement - which he so desperately needed. Anne, being extremely mischievous, self-confident, and empathetic, she made the perfect best friend for Mousey.

Mousey wasn't exactly a permanent addition to the Sallow Twins and Ominis' little group, but they would hang out with Mousey more often than not. Up until fourth year, they were practically his only friends. (We'll get to this in a bit.. 😙)

In order to impress his father - Mousey started training on a broom as soon as he first attended Hogwarts, but his heart was only half in it. Although he was very talented with a broom, it was never a true passion of his.

Speaking of Mousey's true passion - he is deeply fascinated by wandlore/craft. Ever since he recieved his first book on wandcraft at the age of seven, he quickly became entranced by it. Mousey absorbed all the information he possibly could and constantly visited Ollivanders in Hogsmeade in his free time once he was allowed to by the school.

Sometime at the start of fourth-year Sebastian and Mousey got into a HUGE argument that quickly ended their friendship. After this argument occured, Sebastian practically banned Anne and Ominis from speaking or interacting with Mousey in any way out of sheer pettiness 😒. Mousey was heartbroken. While he would swear up and down it did not affect him, he genuinely loved Sebastian, Anne, and Ominis.. losing their friendship was difficult on him. Although, sadness quickly turned to anger and he held a big grudge against Sebastian. After the big fallout, he vowed he didn't need them - immediately going on a quest to make as many friends as possible. And ultimately, he did.. but it never felt the same.

Relationships

Like Milena, I'm planning on creating a separate series of posts going more in-depth with his relationships w/ characters - so take this list of his closest friends!

Ominis Gaunt

Anne Sallow

Milena Chase

Amit Thakkar

Everett Clopton

Andrew Larson

Samantha Dale

Duncan Hobhouse

Garreth Weasley

Leander Prewett

Eric Northcott

Poppy Sweeting

Arthur Plummly

Unnamed Students

Personality

MBTI - ENFP-T

Alignment - Chaotic Neutral

Mousey is a complicated type of extrovert. He grew up constantly fighting for attention - he learned quickly that he needed to be loud and to stand out to be seen. Mousey is the type of person to only want a few close friends, but a large circle. He loves socializing with everyone, typically coming off as very cheery and playful, yet more snarky + sarcastic with people he's more comfortable with. However, he's also very anxious. He's quite the overthinker - yet never exactly thinks ANYTHING through at the same time. He's the epitome of impulsivity.

In addition to him being anxious - Mousey cares too much of what other people think of him, especially the people he loves/looks up to. He finds himself constantly trying to impress his friends and family because he craves external validation to feel good about himself.

Mousey is very sensitive, but can oftentimes be seen as apathetic when it comes to heated moments. He's very much controlled by his emotions and feelings, which has put a strain in a lot of his relationships. Mousey feels emotions more intensely than most of his peers, his mood also being affected by the people around him. (Although when he's not blinded by his own feelings, he is actually very sweet and caring person. 😞)

If there was one word to describe Mousey - NOSY. As a Ravenclaw, he's obviously inclined to want to know as much as he can about anything. With that being said, he's a NASTY gossip. Mousey knows everything about everyone, always around and listening in the background.. 😊

Just like how it is in other parts of Mousey's life, he feels that he's an outlier in his Hogwarts House. Other than being curious and passionate about learning, he isn't as clever as other Ravenclaws - not great at riddles, oftentimes having trouble even entering the common room. So he tries his best to make the best of it, befriending his housemates, joining the quidditch team, etc.

When it comes to being active, he can make an exception for Quidditch - for his father - but other than that, he HATES physical activity. Unfortunately he's a bit on the cowardly side as well. He could be reckless and get a burst of confidence, but in general Mousey is terrified of dueling, sharp things, large creatures, and especially cats. You wouldn't usually catch him out in the Forbidden Forest, or in any of the hamlets far from Irondale.

Additional Fun Facts!

The only people who don't refer to him as 'Mousey' would be Ominis, Imelda, and Milena - all for different reasons.

Mousey actually likes his nickname, not minding it one bit - although, he doesn't remember how he got it.. but even the teachers have called him Mousey since his first year.

He used to have very prominent buck teeth up until he was 13, having them magically fixed (by Anne Sallow) after his big brother Clyde had made fun of them.

Mousey is the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain and Keeper in sixth-year! 💙

Other than Sebastian, his nemesis at Hogwarts is Charlotte Morrison (whom Milena actually made friends with???). She just really irritates him in a way he can't describe. The feeling is mutual.

He is very close with a lot of the teachers, most notably Professor Fig and Professor Garlick.

Mousey makes wood-carving animals representing the people he loves, and keeps them in his dorm. (Some would be: Ominis - Bat, Anne - Fox, Sebastian - Snake, and the newest addition.. Milena - Eagle 💜 I like to imagine Mousey came to terms with his and Milena's friendship at one point and secretly made her little animal to keep 🥹) No one knows the meanings behind the animals but him. They are his to keep and to protect.

Bi icon 💙💜🩷

Had a crush on Adelaide Oakes in third-year. (his type is blondes I guess?)

Was nearly sorted into Slytherin, but the hat changed it's mind at the last second.

Raphael is the only feline that tolerates Mousey. (And vice versa)

Knows about the Undercroft.

[inkedberries]

eldest child of 30 nico vs. only child legato go

[svampira]

20 minute study that i liked for once

[levemetal]

Retired happy Junmei for no reason at all except let them be happy post-canon that's all.

[waahkohii]

(wip #2)

contemplating the pros and cons of murdering the new guy at work

[zsbrainrot]

Happy Buddy Daddies Friday!

[sceletaflores]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ wip wednesday!

thanks for the tag angel baby @guiltyasdave <3 • 18+ under the cut! MDNI!

wip #1 • far too familiar a stranger…feat. logan howlett (& crimson!)

a long time ago, logan howlett knew a woman with your face…

i couldn’t not write a ‘worst!logan coming face to face with his tragically dead love interest but from wade’s universe after wade forced her to help them stop the TVA and hating her for bringing up that time in his life until he doesn’t anymore’ fic.

it's crimson because i felt that making whole new mutant reader would be sort of confusing so this fic is in the to the bone universe but it's not the same timeline...if that makes sense lmao

Wade Wilson is the worst neighbor in the entire fucking world. It’s really something you should have known sooner, like ‘the very first day in your new place ending with him breaking in through your window fully suited up after counting the floors wrong and bleeding all over your brand new pottery barn throw rug because he was still a little too concussed to walk’ sooner. Even after that whole fiasco left you with a broken window latch and a beyond fucked non-refundable $80 carpet, you still let yourself entertain his crazy. Just like everyone else whose life Wade crashed into, both physically or metaphorically. And once he's in, you can never really get him back out again. So yeah, maybe this whole thing is your fault. Maybe getting thrown into a barren, dusty void with two somewhat failed X-Men is just all your bad karma manifesting in one huge finger from the universe.

wip #2 • red and yellow kill a fellow! feat. logan howlett & wade wilson

logan doesn’t appreciate you letting wade get one up on him…

finally finally finally getting off my ass and writing logan x reader x wade! i was inspired by this one episode of satc (which is like my favorite show ever bee tee dubs) where charlotte goes out with two guys at the same time and she has sex with one but not the other until one of them catches her with the other guy and they all break it off.

my vision is a little different cause instead of getting mad and leaving when logan finds out reader fucked wade and not him, he figures it's his turn to get even. aka wade in the cuck chair and loving it.

The three of you pass a BMW sitting in a no parking zone, all four windows rolled down as Madonna blasts through the speakers. "So," Wade says, voice breaking the silence for the first time in five minutes. "Who white-washed your guts better?" You nearly trip over your own feet, whipping your head to gape at Wade. "Fucking excuse me?" "You know," Wade shrugs, like it's a perfectly normal thing to ask. The leisurely pace of his stroll not slowing, his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. "Who carved the lyrical railway better?" He just keeps going as you stare at him with a repulsed look on your face. "The number one stud that's stuffin' your muffin? That's takin the ol' bald-headed gnome for a satisfying stroll in the misty forest. Pick one hot stuff, they all mean the same thing." Before you can even answer there's a rough, questioning grunt from your right and your stomach flips. Oh. Logan, he was still here too. Still here and right next to you, listening. Oh yeah. "You fucked?" You still haven't slept with Logan yet. You turn to him face slowly, eyes a hair wide as you take in the sharp raise of his brow. "Um..." "Whoops," Wade snorts from somewhere behind your shoulder. "Cat's out the bag."

wip #3 • it's the easiest thing (just love me and eat me) feat. logan howlett

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

the same requested sub!logan fic from last wednesday just with a new name and weirder energy! like this has really gotten away from me and turned into something that i can't really explain well enough to make it sound like chill...

lots of religious imagery and symbolism...and some metaphors of cannibalism...idk i'm just a girl with religious trauma and a weird blood fetish sue me.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church. The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of it like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship. Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion. The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. The sound of your name pulled from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered. You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

kisses!

no pressure tags! @ebodebo @artemis-b-writes @avocado-writing @superhoeva

[anto-pops]

The Serpent's Paramour - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: For the past five years, you've been traversing the Highlands in pursuit of ancient magic sites to master the all-consuming power from the repository. In the midst of your travels, you find yourself forced into an uneasy alliance with none other than Sebastian Sallow. He wants your help, but you want absolutely nothing to do with him.

At first, that is.

While the two of you learn to coexist in the same space again, you’re left wondering if you truly will be able to aid one another, or if your past mistakes will finally come to head after all these years and ultimately lead to your long awaited downfall.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+. aged up characters, canon-typical violence, kidnapping

Chapter 1 can also be found here on Ao3

You were getting really tired of running for your life. 

During your fifth-year turning tail and booking it was often heavily warranted, especially because it was usually being done as a result of you waking up hordes of Inferi, or stealing important artifacts from dark wizards that would then be out for blood. You liked to think you had grown out of that habit, but tonight was proving to be something of a trip down memory lane. 

You were being chased. Again. 

Tucking your knees to your chest, you ducked down and rolled through mud at the same time a Bombarda curse blew up a chunk of the tree ahead of you. It was a close call, but you could hardly stop to survey the extent of the damage when you could still hear the thugs behind you giving chase. 

“You daft idiots, grab her!” 

Another spell struck the ground where you’d landed moments before, but you were already on the move– dipping and weaving in a bid to dodge the attacks that were fired blindly at your back. It made no sense; you had never been intercepted at an ancient magic site before, and as far as you were concerned, there was no reason for anyone to take interest in a dilapidated ruin. Aside from using the crumbling fortress as a makeshift base, no Ashwinders or poachers had ever been lying in wait in what was otherwise deemed an unremarkable location. 

They had been this time, though. To make matters worse, they were looking for you specifically. 

Your name had been like a battle cry from their lips as you’d exited the rundown site, and you hadn’t bothered to stick around to find out whatever the hell it was they wanted with you. If you weren’t so tired and weary, you would have apparated yourself to safety in a heartbeat, but splinching yourself as a result of your carelessness wasn’t exactly at the top of your to-do list. So, you had bolted straight for the edge of the forest, doing your best to avoid colliding with the low hanging branches that scratched at your cheeks and ripped at your cloak. 

There was more yelling from behind you, only this time it sounded distinctly farther away. Chancing a look over your shoulder, you discovered that there was now ample distance between you and the goons chasing you, and you pivoted on your heels to head north for the river that separated the Clagmar Coast from Cragcroftshire. If you could reach the water, you would have a better chance of getting away and concealing your tracks in the process. 

At least, you hoped you would.

Lungs aching, you pushed yourself harder, your arms pumping at your sides as you lept over a fallen log in your path, and though you stumbled a bit upon landing, you remained upright and pressed on. Another spell whizzed past your head– the heat from the Confringo curse nearly singing your matted hair– but you ignored it and focused wholly on running. It felt like an eternity had passed when you finally reached the colossal ravine, immediately trying to formulate a plan that would result in you on the other side with your pursuers left behind. There was no bridge to repair, no loose boulders to form into a levitating staircase, nothing. Panic began to fester in your mind for a heartbeat before you steeled your nerves and banished the feeling entirely. Hysteria wouldn’t help you right now– it never had. 

“There– up ahead! Move your asses, dammit,” came the same voice from before. You turned to watch as a handful of masked assailants slid down the muddy embankment roughly fifty feet from you, and that sight alone spurred you into action. 

Your wand was ripped from the holster on your thigh, and you channeled every bit of magic in your body into it as you aimed for the largest tree across the daunting trench in front of you. The Accio charm wrapped around the top of the monstrous trunk, and with every ounce of strength you possessed, you pulled. It seemed impossible at first, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and the foreign power from the repository surged to life to give you the assistance you gravely needed. There was a deafening crack as the wood began to splinter and give way under your ministrations, muting the onslaught of footsteps that grew nearer and nearer. With one final pull your efforts were rewarded, and the massive evergreen tipped towards you slowly before gravity caught up to it, sending it plummeting towards where you stood. 

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? It was a philosophical question– one that you had never thought about much before– but you had always assumed that with no one around, there would never be any way to know. Presently there were multiple people around, and as it turned out, a falling tree did make a sound. 

As you dove out of the way, the pine covered top of the tree arched past where you had been standing, stretching over the shrinking space between you and the encroaching strangers behind you. Most of them saw the gargantuan tree heading straight for them and jumped out of the way, their shrill screams echoing throughout the forest and bringing a small smile to your face. A few others weren’t so lucky, and you watched as the peaked top of the tree swallowed them whole and buried them beneath a heavy thicket of pine needles. 

Seizing your opportunity, you ran for the makeshift bridge and hauled yourself on top of the rough trunk, shoving and kicking at the spindly branches that stood in your way as you practically clawed your way through to the other side of the ravine. You didn’t dare look back, keeping your eyes trained ahead as you focused on maintaining your footing and not getting thrown off balance by your satchel. 

It looked like a hurricane had torn through the earth when you finally emerged at the base of the tree. You hopped down and landed in the deep, root-riddled crater that had previously held the evergreen upright before running to the side to gauge where your attackers were. Most were still gathering their bearings while others attempted to drag their comrades out from under the suffocating weight of the branches. You hardly spared their survival a second thought as you pointed your wand at the center of the tree and cast, “Confringo!” 

The flames grew rapidly and without mercy, frantic calls of “hurry” and “get them out of there” reaching your ears as you spun towards the forest and disappeared into the treeline. There was no knowing how much time you had bought yourself, but you weren’t about to squander any of it for a second. 

You ran, and you did not look back. 

***

One would assume that after two years of living in abandoned hovels and scrounging up scraps to eat with your bare hands, you’d be used to being cold, wet, and miserable. Hell, you had learned more about yourself since leaving Hogwarts than you’d ever thought possible, including just how resilient and resourceful you could be. Rain storms, stale bread, and a lack of clean water had never deterred you for long, and through all the trials and tribulations you found yourself facing, you always managed to pull through. 

Tonight, however, you allowed yourself to be sullen. 

The torrential downpour you’d been caught up in somehow managed to slip through the canopy of trees overhead, and as a result, you were encased in a cold, wet, dreary darkness. It had been two hours of trudging through mud and frigid temperatures, and by now you were caked in a thick layer of grime that you desperately wanted to rid yourself of. Charming away the mess was pointless– it wouldn’t be long before you were covered in muck once again– and you’d learned long ago that using magic while in the middle of a void forest was a bad idea, especially when you were trying to remain undetected. 

After the events from earlier in the day, you had decided to head straight for the next site marked on your map to make camp and settle down for the night. However, you were still a day away from reaching the location, no thanks to the dark wizards that had chased you in the opposite direction. Your stubbornness and desire to reach your destination is why you currently found yourself on the outskirts of civilization, trying and failing to fend off the elements to get the journey over with, but the bone-deep chill that wracked your body was beginning to weaken your resolve. 

You were exhausted. 

Thunder rumbled overhead, long and loud amidst the sound of raindrops pelting against the dirt, and with a disappointed sigh, you made up your mind. If memory served you correctly, the town of Bainburgh was roughly a two mile walk west of the forest. Your paranoia told you it was too risky to set foot in a legitimate establishment, but your numb limbs and wet boots squashed your fears before they could come to head. Staying outside for the entire night would likely leave you dead, and there were few other options to choose from. 

So, you marched. It took roughly forty minutes to traverse the jagged, rocky landscape in the dark, slowed down by the stray roots that stuck out of the ground and worked to trip you in your haste. By the time you made it into town, you were soaked to the bone and shivering violently enough that you were certain passersby could hear. The tavern was helpfully the largest building at the end of the road, and you headed straight for it without sparing any of the town’s denizens a second glance. 

The warmth that greeted you as soon as you entered was beyond welcoming, and you tugged the door shut behind you before beelining straight for the firepit in the middle of the room. Your hands were so numb that you practically had to submerge them in the flames to feel any semblance of reprieve, and a few onlookers cast wary glances your way. Between the mud that coated your lower half and the water that dripped from every fiber of your clothing, you realized you had to look like a walking disaster, and that sobering thought had you tucking your hands under your armpits as you hurried to the bar at the back of the room. 

The older gentleman wiping down the counter turned to face you, his aged face showing obvious alarm and concern when he caught sight of you. “Merlin’s beard girl, you look like you’ve been dragged straight through hell.” 

You flashed him a bashful smile, though you were certain it looked like more of a grimace. “You could say that. You wouldn’t happen to have any rooms available for the night, would you?” 

With practiced efficiency, he tossed the rag he’d been holding over his shoulder and shuffled over to the cabinet at the edge of the bar, opening the squeaky glass panel that housed the keys for the rentable rooms. “Ordinarily the answer would be no, but that damned storm blowing through has business movin’ slow. I’ve got two rooms left, one with a bath and the other without.” 

Your heart soared as you hastily replied, “The one with the bath, please.” Without missing a beat, you snatched your weighty coin purse from your belt and dropped it on the wooden surface. The barkeeper raised his white, bushy brows in silent surprise as he tentatively picked up the drawstring sac, plucking ten gold pieces from within before handing it back to you. The bronze key he deposited in front of you had a wooden tag dangling from the end that read ‘13’, and for the first time in nearly two weeks you found yourself genuinely smiling as your fist closed around the cool metal. 

“Up the stairs and on your left,” he instructed you. “Kitchen is open for another hour if you’re tryin’ to grab a bite before bed, but I’d wager you’re more interested in the runnin’ water.” The way his eyes fell to your soiled clothing didn’t escape you. You almost felt bad for tracking all the mud and water through the lobby.

Twenty minutes later, you had a warm loaf of bread and a small wedge of cheese tucked away in your bag as you ascended the rickety staircase. The decor within the aged tavern was modest, save for the silver plaques that adorned each door with their respective room numbers. Finding your own was a non-issue, and as soon as you were inside the sanctity of the rented space, you let loose a breath that you’d seemingly been holding since setting foot into town. Now wasn’t the time to let your guard down, but you weren’t about to turn your nose up at clean linens and running water. 

Moving quietly, you stripped down to your undergarments and tossed your ruined clothing in the corner of the bathroom, then cranked the tub’s faucet to the highest setting and left it to fill. The bread from the kitchen had cooled some, but it hardly made a difference to you as you ripped off a piece and ate it with the cheese you’d purchased. Fresh food was a rarity for you these days, and you savored every bite as you paced the length of the room. With your hunger sated and your looming bath just around the corner, you allowed yourself to think back to the last few weeks, and you pondered just why dark wizards were looking for you.

Understandably, the whole situation reminded you of your fifth-year. Suddenly you were fifteen again, being hounded and hunted by Ranrok and Rookwood alike for simply existing. At that time they had wanted something from you; your abilities, your information, and most prudent of all, your silence. You’d known too much back then, but those times had passed, and both Ranrok and Rookwood were now dead– at your hands, no less. 

So why would anyone be looking for you? Who were they to you? What did they want? 

It wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest to discover that you had more enemies lurking in the shadows. The stunts you’d pulled and the things you’d gotten away with back then were bound to catch up with you, but you hated not knowing. The whole reason you’d left Hogwarts after graduation without so much as a word to anyone was precisely because you didn’t want your whereabouts known. The line between friend and foe had started to blur towards the end, though you acknowledged that it was mostly your fault.

You hadn’t turned Sebastian in, but you also hadn’t moved to stop Ominis from doing so. 

With him imprisoned in Azkaban and Ominis reeling from the decision, it was no wonder the two of you had drifted apart in the years that followed. Anne’s curse worsening had only exacerbated Ominis’ feelings, and you’d graciously stayed out of his way anytime you saw him around school. Natty had never fully recovered from Harlow’s use of the Cruciatus curse on her, and your guilt had in turn driven you further away from her. Poppy was the only person you’d stayed in touch with for the remainder of your academic life, but she was too good a person to drag down with your… issues. You’d ultimately been the one to cut contact with her following your seventh-year, and while you’d felt bad about it at first, you knew it was for the best. 

After tonight, that decision had proven to be the right one. If you really were being tracked, were any of your former friends targets for information? Did this impromptu, wild goose chase have anything to do with your volatile abilities from the repository? Had you unwittingly put them in harm's way simply because they knew you? 

The bread in your mouth had gone soft, and you shook the pointless thoughts from your mind as you finished off your mediocre dinner and made for the bathroom. The warmth from the water was divine and single-handedly chased away any lingering doubts about holing up in a public place for the night. For just this once, you would gladly trade sleeping in the cold, wet dirt for the pending restlessness and paranoia that was bound to greet you, and greet you it did. 

After climbing under the itchy but clean blankets, you stared wide eyed up at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Every squeak of a floorboard, every booming laugh that echoed up the stairs, every shadow that darted past your window, all had your heart racing. Even after checking twice that the two points of entry were indeed firmly locked, your nerves wouldn’t steady. Your skin crawled with unease at the prospect of being blindsided in an unfamiliar place, and at one point you even began pacing the length of the tiny room just to tire yourself out. 

Eventually, you came to a grinding halt at the foot of the bed, your hands curling into fists as you sucked down a slow, deep breath. “You’re fine,” you murmured to yourself. “You’re fine. It’s okay, you’re safe, you’re fine.” 

Maybe if you repeated it enough times you would start to believe it. 

The second time you crawled beneath the prickly sheets your brain was still running in overdrive, but you were far less fidgety than before. You had no clue how you managed it, but eventually your eyes drifted shut– and even if it ended up being a fitful bout of sleep, you would be grateful for the few hours of shut eye you managed to acquire. 

Gratitude went right out the window, however, when you were startled awake by a whispered, “Petrificus totalus.” 

Your body locked up– stiff and unable to move an inch below the scratchy covers– and before you even had the chance to glance in the direction of the disembodied voice, they whispered a different sort of charm. 

One that made your world go dark.

[mirensiart]

pain sharing au feat wild finally gets his haired dealt with by the guys with sisters who know how to brush long hair lol

Super self indulgent to me and also a small offering to @chiangyorange since I know they like wars+wild duo hehehe 🤲🏻💖

[askyofexplodingstars]

men <3