#diagon ally

[florsial]

mhmm i’m obsessed with the visions i’m receiving from the xeno reblogs…pretty please share some more thoughts about him? love!

<3333!!

Xeno is honestly a character that i kind of always loved from afar? Like I never ventured further than their name but I built a type of vibe with them.

-One thing I always saw was him being Lucius' brother. It was the very first thing I saw when I started Harry Potter in like elementary and it stuck ever since I joined the Marauders.

-He's younger by 4 years than Lucius and about 3 years older than Pandora. His full name is Xenophillius Silas Malfoy. He's the second son and his mother's favorite because he was her son, not the Malfoys'. So she packed up and took him elsewhere for most of his life until Hogwarts where the Malfoy parents lived civilized. He officially meets his older brother when he's 11 and Lucius, a 15-year-old social climber.

-His relationship with Lucius is distant. Lucius is treated like the heir, his childhood is spent inside, lesson after lesson, pandering to the upper class, flattery, etc etc. But Xeno never had that, he lived in the English countryside, he was allowed outside whenever he pleased, he skipped etiquette lessons but was never punished, his curiosity was mostly about biology (which was how he developed a love for writing), and no one could or would tell him no. So there was a huge difference in their relationship. Lucius was appalled and Xeno was curious. There was also a sense of disappointment and jealousy on Lucius' part, he wanted someone who would understand the stress of being heir, or at least be brought up similarly to him, but Xeno was the complete opposite. Xeno was curious but quickly grew bored with the traditional Pureblood ways that Lucius kept trying to fit in his head. I think deep down, they really love each other, but they are just too different without any ties, no emotional ones that were formed when they should've, so that love really doesn't go beyond blood obligation. Not to mention their parents.

-Something fun is his gender. The only way I can describe it is that they're everything, but also nothing at the same time (technically they are genderqueer but I like that description better honestly). Gender doesn't exist to them. She thinks it's a constricting concept. Very pretty honestly. They are like weird, but in the prettiest way when they were with the Malfoys, but as they got older and further from their family, they kinda didn't give a fuck.

-They love white! It's their main color throughout most of his life. He thinks that it shows the process of thinking. Like a bare canvas. A lot of their formal robes were white and she's probably the brightest wizard (literally) that anyone could point out at a pureblood ball.

-I think he's a lot like how people imagine Pandora to be. While she's purposely eccentric because she loves it, Xeno is eccentric in a way he doesn't even realize it. Like he's talking about an obscure creature (that probably doesn't exist) and being hella judgy when you say you have no idea what he's saying. Pandora is intentionally cruel and cold, but Xeno isn't. I guess you could say he's a bit tone-deaf as well. Pandora is purposeful, Xeno is not.

-Definitely isolated. The moment he's shoved into the pureblood society, he cannot fit in. People think he's weird, he thinks they're boring. He is stubborn and doesn't agree with the high-class purebloods. He chills and writes by himself until Pandora comes around.

-Pandora "She asked for no pickles >:(" Rosier and Xenophillius "didn't want to say anything because it didn't matter :/" Malfoy <3

-Neutral during the war and ran away with Pandora, they created the last name, "Lovegood" while high off their ass in Xeno's last year at Hogwarts.

-REAL BUG ENTHUSIAST, he would take Luna out and hunt for bugs! I like to think Luna has one of those glass cases of preserved butterflies somewhere from when she was a kid. Xeno would have jars and jars of live bugs in his rooms at the Mafloy manner, all hidden and tucked under his bed. He refuses to allow anyone inside and "cleans" his room himself. All the jars are labeled neatly with stickers and names from fairytales.

-"Cleans": puts everything in a stack in the corner, a scatterbrain <3

-the Quibbler was made as a way to preserve Pandora's memory. They would write unpublished articles back at Hogwarts and Xeno would publish them and more when she died.

[mmmthornton]

"I got you, dude"

***

The Freedom Pals finished their route by taking out some sixth graders that were hassling kids outside the movie theater. One of them landed a kick on Tupperware's torso that cracked the container under his left arm.

He was starting to walk away when Toolshed tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey! I got something for that. May I?"

Almost before Tolkien knew what was happening, Stan slapped a neat stripe of high-quality duct tape up one side over the crack. "Oh man, thanks Toolshed!"

"Yeah man, I got you! Here, lemme get the other side so it looks like a style choice."

***

Some days later, most of the guys were waiting in Tolkien's living room for their various rides. Stan was standing around talking with his friends and was about to walk outside where it was snowing...in just his Toolshed t-shirt. Toolshed felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey man, you need something going out there, its cold out. Take this!" and Tolkien pushed a jacket into his hands.

"Aw, I don't need it, I'm across the street anyway Its no bi-"

"Just put it on man, you can't fight crime if you get sick."

Toolshed relented, and zipped the jacket over his shirt. "Thanks man. ... Hey, it kinda goes with the look."

"If you like it it's yours. I uh, got two jackets for Christmas." Human Kite noticed out of the corner of his eye a shopping bag stashed near the door that looked like the same brand as the jacket.

"Cool, thanks dude!"

Yeah, I got you."

***

While working on an upgrade to the Tupperjet, Tupperware nearly broke a window trying to remove a stripped screw. "Damn....Hey, 'Shed, do you have a pinhammer I could use to get these out?"

"Yeah, I got you, one sec."

"Thanks dude!"

***

"Tupperware, I need some protection for the wrist drill attachments; I can block when they're not retracted but otherwise the track gets janky. Got anything I could use?"

"Sure, I got you! My mom made spaghetti last week and we've got plastic thrown out in the recycling bin."

"Sweet, thanks 'Tups!"

***

Professor Chaos' minion set off a self-destruct that just caught Tupperware in its wake. He's shoved backwards by the blast and waves his arms vainly, falling backwards-

-and one hand finds Toolsheds glove, solidifying into an iron grip. The handyman hero hooked his measuring tape to a tree and caught them both in time before they went over the edge.

"I got you, dude!"

Mosquito came running up, grabbing Tupperware's other arm and pulling them both up to stable ground. He complained later to Super Craig how Tolkien didn't even LOOK at Clyde when thanking him for the rescue. His attention was occupied on someone else.

***

The meth-addicted hobos that had ambushed the team on a mission to the old mall parking lot weren't the brightest enemies they'd faught, but their blind druggie rage packed a powerful punch and all of them were feeling the effects. Toolshed knocked away two in one blow with his drill ground attack, saving Mysterion from yet another messy death. In the process however, he didn't see the one coming up behind him from under a tarp...

"I got you, Toolshed!"

...Before Toolshed knew what was happening, he was standing near the other side of the mostly-cleared battlefield as an electric *hum* and soft blue light faded around him. He saw where he'd been standing, Tupperware was surrounded by the same glow as his advanced shields met the druggie attack and deflected it to a harmless rattle. Moments later, The Coon pounced claws-first and finished the fight. Toolshed didn't react when his chubby friend in a fursuit commented that he needed to do better at watching his ass...and then murmured that he was more concerned with someone else's. Ass, that is.

***

"...So anyway, with the 3D Printer my dad just bought, we have basically limitless options for supplies and gear! Toolshed and I found a site that translates manufacturer specs into three dimensional plans for easy customizing and building. We printed a logo that attaches to Professor Timmy's wheelchair wheels that doubles as a shock absorber. How cool is THAT?"

Around the table of the Freedom Pals, everyone clapped politely except for Toolshed. Toolshed grinned widely and clapped the loudest, proud of their shared achievement.

***

After the meeting, Kite, Mysterion, and Coon approached Professor Timmy's chair.

Kyle cleared his throat.

"Heyyy, Professor...Would it be possible for you to help us with something?"

If it is within my immense telepathic and psychokinetic powers, and doesn't get me in trouble with my mom, of course heroes. What do you need that my powerful brain can help you obtain?

The Coon leaned into Mysterion's ear. "I know Timmy's head was big to begin with but geez..."

"Uh, yes, thank you Professor!" Kite continued. "See, we are friends with, um, Toolshed and lately he's seemed...distracted. Could you maybe use your powers and tell us what exactly his - er, deal is?"

There's silence, and Timmy's gaze turns to the other side of the room. Tolkien is out of his Tupperware suit and is leaning over a drawing Stan is showing him. "So, I got to thinking after seeing the 3D printer at work, maybe I can incorporate some kind of glue gun attachment? I have the heating elements already installed like so, and maybe-" The conversation continued in depth as the two boys excitedly went over plans and ideas that their shared knowledge and ability could actually make possible.

Timmy turned back to Kyle, not even bothering with the telepathy. Instead, he rolled his eyes at the three friends. "Timmy?" He gestured with his hand at Tolkien laughing at a joke Stan made, and the way he visibly seemed to glow brighter when Tolkien's hand clapped his shoulder. ".....timmy."

Kyle sighed and crossed his arms. "Yeah...I guess we didn't really need your powers either."

Cartman put a hand to his face. "God, that rich asshole better not Yoko our crew here."

Mysterion shrugged, and smiled from deep within the cowl of his hood. "I mean, who wouldn't fall for them baby blues?"

The other boys all nodded sagely. "Timmy timmy. Tim-may."

"That was beautiful Professor."

"Yeah, well-said," Coon leaned forward to check on The Human Kite's expression. "Well? Should we interfere?"

Human Kite for a moment didn't seem to hear his companion. A few seconds passed however, and he smiled. "Nah, I think he's got this."

***

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Diagon Alley Moodboard

Harry Potter Moodboard

[multifandom-mooshroom]

guys am i high??

i just started zoning out and staring at my computer screen when suddenly mu tumblr home page turned 3d (???) and started like spining horozontoly??? should i go to sleep?😭

[evilminji]

:T Hello there, Thought(tm) of the day...

I? Just remembered that Constantine's "Laughing Magician"(?) title is... f*ckin HEREDITARY?

Like?? As in The Constantine Meances have been out here, harrasing divinity and demons alike for GENERATIONS on behalf of a Good Time, the Lols, and probably Humanity if they can be arsed and you make a good case.

W... What chance would there even BE of at least like? HALF those f*ckers(conflicted but affectionate) NOT becoming Realms Ghosts? With the sh*t they're exposed too? With THEIR luck??

You think DEATH can trick them? Take them away for good? Take away the local Rat B@stard, Tricks Gods Just To See If He Can, Fate Is My Second Mistress and I Cuckold Glory On Your Mother's Bed, Constantine?

They run down main street, *ss in the breeze, wearing someone else's shirt and two shoes that don't match, not a stitch else, like run away lovers. Let Death TRY and catch them. Sorry, Luv, it's not them, it's definitely you.

..........I bet they're the wooooorst~~✨️

No joke, I bet they set up a whole *ss TOWN of Constantine.

Where the odds are in THEIR favor, gods fear to tread, and reality straight out stops working right. Like Diagonal Ally for B*stards, extended to a whole floating island. Everyone's related. It's Chaos. They can barely stand each other. Would sell each other for a toothpick.

Mess with ANY off them... and you can kiss your afterlife good bye.

They have NO neighbors because both no ones dumb enough to get NEAR them AND no one can stand to be around that many Constantines at once. The physical Manifestation of Fate wants to take the whole LOT of the handsy F*CKS to court for child support and a restraining order.

Somehow... they keep getting Earth Booze.

They SHOULDN'T have access. It's been anywhere from decade to centuries since they died. Millennium for a few. Howms't The F*CK, do they keep getting cheap gin and vodka? Bourbon and beer? Even the odd fruity cocktail for funnies.

Please... PLEASE! Tell the Zone at large, that their innate birthright powers STOPPED at Death. They... they are just REALLY good at smuggling right? Excellent con men?

Tell us they can't f*ckin PREDICT AND INFLUENCE Natural Portals!!!

*smug sipping noises from a large room full of Dead @ssholes*

Okay... They Won't Tell You~ 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 *siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip*

Now! I hear you ask? Why are John's Terrible, Terrible, God Awful Ghostly Relatives relevant? Absurdly powerful as they are... they seem to take the afterlife as an extended "Ha! GET F*CKED, DEMONS WHO WANTED MY SOUL!" Vacation/Family get together.

Minded their business and expected everyone to mind THEIRS, or ELSE.

Didn't give two solitary SH*TS that Pariah woke from his little nappy-poo to cause a tantrum. After all, in their family? When DOESN'T some "great and terrible Power That Be" get itself in a snit? Meh... it's baby Johnny's turn to clean sh*t up. Best of luck to 'im~!

But THEN!

They must've been drinking... making out with their equally terrible and bamf trainwreck significant others... sitting around playing "who can cheat best at cards"... when? Huh.

Never seen the Fate and The Odds... STRANGLE like that.

Billions of billions of What-Ifs, Maybes, Could-bes, and more... suddenly YANKED towards a single spot. The allowance of Only One Outcome. Almost like what they can do, but... not, WRONG, per say...

Just... impossible.

There's NEVER.. JUST one way this plays out. You can control the big notes. The script. But the details and set dressing will always decide themselves.

NO ONE can just... Decide What Will Happen. And yet?

...............was....... was that Little Johnny? Has to be. Right? Where's his old man? Oi! Was that your Kid??! John's closest relatives are baffled. Nope. They can still feel him laying a beat down on some demon in Norway. So then? Who?

How?

Well mark them CURIOUS(tm).

They decide to actually get up. Put their various drinks and cards down. Put pants on. Somebody's done something... INTERESTING(TM) and they want to know what's up. So? Off they trot.

It's traumatizing for everyone who sees them. The Constantines have breached f*ckin B*stard Containment and are spilling into the Zone. On this! The DAY Pariah Waged A War! THEY JUST GOT RID OF HIM!

And Danny? His everything hurts. The Eyeballs are starting to come out of the woodwork and ARGUE about him like he's not even there. He's DANGEROUS blah blah blah. Give them the crown. Right now! Etc etc.

Somethings telling him not too.

It's... it's HIS isn't it? Has been for centuries and seconds. And... and... everyone one of him is King. There is only one of him. The Zone covers all the multiverse and all of the Hims that were and aren't here and helped and... and...! His head is starting to hurt.

But the more they try to push him to hand it over, the less he feels like unhanding the dang gaudy thing. No. His now. He'll use it as a DOOR stopper if he dang well feels like it! Stop yelling.

Then all these blonde ghosts saunter in... and all he can think is "F*ck. I think they noticed."

Huh?

@stealingyourbones @cyrwrites @bjurnberg @the-witchhunter @hdgnj

[hugmekenobi]

S3: The Bad Batch (12)

Chapter Twelve: Juggernaut

Gif by @azertyrobaz

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: The Batch seek out an unlikely ally to get you and Omega back. Meanwhile, you and Omega find out what's in store for you on Tantiss

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, swearing, me making up an SP number, humour used as a deflection tactic, Hunter losing it a bit, brief injury descriptions, threats, implications of torture, mentions of scars, Rampart, Hemlock being a creep, lotta angst,

Word Count: 5.7K

Author's notes: Had a bit of creative fun doing this episode but it should also hopefully feel like an angsty one lol

You braced yourself against the weather as you exited the ship.

The gusts of wind on Tantiss swept the steady drizzle of rain in a diagonal against your face.

You and Omega stopped just before Hemlock as he came to meet you both.

Then, a move occurred that genuinely surprised you.

In quick succession, the operative took Omega’s cuffs off and then did the same to yours before he took to his ship and left.

You and Omega massaged your wrists as you regarded the man ahead of you with suspicious curiosity.

“I trust we won’t have any issues with you and your… talents. Unless you want Omega to suffer the punishment for your disobedience?” Hemlock directed the question to you.

You knew that would be the card he would play, and it was a fucking effective one. “No issue.” You said tightly.

Hemlock nodded before he addressed both of you. “Turning yourselves over was a wise decision. Come with me.”

Omega glanced up at you, but you gave her a nod and the two of you slowly followed Hemlock inside.

--

The route to the lab had not left Omega’s memory and she recognised the familiar corridors that Hemlock led you both through, although the heightened stormtrooper presence was new.

“Bring the Jedi to the cell we arranged below but keep her away from the vault. She and Omega are not to be together.” Hemlock directed the group of troopers that approached as you all came to a halt outside the lab doors.

Your head snapped over to Hemlock as you heard that.

Omega frantically looked between you and Hemlock. “No!” She shouted.

You saw the group of troopers moving in on you. You called on the Force and pushed them further down the corridor and smacked them into the wall, but you couldn’t do anything more than that. You couldn’t risk Hemlock punishing Omega.

You saw another squad closing in.

You had to let them take you.

Omega looked up at you, tears in her eyes. “They can’t take you! I won’t let them!” Omega turned to Hemlock but all she saw on his face was a cruel sneer. “Please-”

You wouldn’t have her begging that man for anything. You bent down and hugged Omega tight to your chest. Do what you need to do to get outta here. I’ll see you again. You don’t worry about me. You said hurriedly as you felt numerous hands grab you and yank you away from her.

The butt of a blaster smacked against your temple, making you lightheaded and your body more compliant with the soldiers as they pulled you down the corridor.  

“No!” Omega fought against the strong grip a trooper took of her shoulder and she couldn’t free herself. But they couldn’t stop her words.

“Bring her back!”

“No! We stay together!”

“Let me go!”

“Stop!” That was the last thing she was able to say before she was dragged into the lab.

--

Omega’s fading cries were all that echoed through your head as the troopers dragged you away and through another maze of levels and hallways.

--

Emerie had heard the commotion outside, and she saw the fear and sadness on Omega’s face as she entered but she had to hide her lingering discomfort as Hemlock brought her over. The small smirk that graced Hemlock’s face did not escape her though.  

“Begin testing her at one. I want confirmation.” Hemlock ordered but he saw hesitance demonstrated by Emerie at the order. “Is there a problem, Dr. Karr?”

“No.” Emerie replied swiftly. “I’ll handle it.”

“Where’s Nala Se?” Omega asked as she looked around the lab but found no sign of the Kaminoan.

“In a cell. I’m afraid the Kaminoan won’t be aiding you in another escape.” He said to Omega before addressing Emerie, “I’ll return later for the results.” He walked out the lab. He had other preparations to oversee.

Omega walked over to her sister, “Emerie, you don’t have to do this.”

Emerie sighed as part of her wished the words didn’t affect her as much as they did but what else was she supposed to do? This is where she wanted to be… didn’t she? “I’m sorry, but I do.” She prepared the syringe and approached the young girl. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re safe.” Emerie took the sample.

“Am I?” Omega questioned uncertainly. “And why did he take her from me? What is he going to do her? Will she be okay?”

And the reassurance Emerie once might’ve been prepared to offer couldn’t be said anymore.

--

Pabu was a ghost town.

The people of the island were recovering and hiding in their homes.

All that remained were the signs of destruction the soldiers had left behind.

But there were no more troopers.

No more gunships.

And he knew what that meant.

He couldn’t deny it to himself anymore.

It had happened again.

They’d taken his home.

They’d taken Omega.

They’d taken you. The love of his life.

Gone.

Your time spent together had been so rushed, so interrupted and there had been too little time for him to express how important you were to him since you’d returned.

The life that the two of you were preparing to have together had been snatched away. And now you were gone. You were gone before he’d had the chance to-

And both of you would be subjected to whatever torment Hemlock wished to inflict. The very thought made him sick to his stomach.

If only he’d been quicker, stealthier. If only he’d handled that gunship pilot better. If only-

He stopped short and clawed at his chest as he felt the guilt constrict around his heart. His knees buckled as the entire weight of his failure crashed into him and he had to brace himself against one of the ransacked stalls to keep from collapsing but he forced himself to calm down.

He couldn’t allow himself to lose himself in it. Not anymore.

He’d done that before but that was then.

Now, he let clarity overcome him.

Now he would not lose focus.

He would not falter.

He would not be dissuaded.

Everything he had was going to go into getting you two back.

Hemlock would die.

Nothing was going to stop him from achieving that.

He felt wet nose nuzzle against his palm and he glanced down to see Batcher looking up at him with concerned eyes.

He straightened up and carried onto Archium.

--

Hunter took his helmet off as he approached his brothers, and he was glad to see Wrecker awake and back on his feet. “The troopers have pulled out, but the cruiser’s still jamming our comms.”

“I still can’t believe you let them turn themselves in.” Wrecker said reproachfully to Crosshair.

“The Empire would have destroyed this whole town. They stopped them.” Crosshair responded, his frustration at the whole situation seeping into his tone. He was more surprised however that the admonishment had come from Wrecker and not Hunter but then again, there was still time.

“Yeah, and they’ve got them again.” Wrecker replied dejectedly. “And we’re stuck here without a ship.”

“Even if we get our hands on a ship, we still have no way of finding Tantiss base.” Hunter said.

The trembling from his hand was an instant reaction. “That’s not exactly true.” Crosshair said cagily as he held his hand.

Hunter stared at his brother carefully and made himself wait for further explanation before he said anything he might regret.

“Wait. You’ve known where Tantiss is this whole time?” Wrecker questioned accusingly.

“I didn’t say I know. There’s someone who might have the coordinates.”

“Who?” Hunter asked urgently.

“Admiral Rampart. He sent Nala Se there when we decommissioned Tipoca City.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Hunter took a few aggressive steps towards Crosshair but checked himself as he caught the way his brother kept massaging his shaking hand. It wouldn’t benefit anyone if he jumped down Crosshair’s throat, he didn’t deserve that.

“Because Tantiss isn’t a place I ever wanted to go back to.” Crosshair admitted. “And Rampart’s not particularly trustworthy. He is a last resort, but he’s our only option.”

“Where’s Rampart now?”

“I was still in the Empire when they arrested him. He was sent to-”

Batcher growling and the sound of a platform opening interrupted him and the three of them turned to see a hatch in the middle of the Archium floor opening up.

“Do not shoot!” AZ yelled as he and Phee came into the room.

“I second that.” Phee agreed as she saw the three clones with blasters pointing in their direction.

The three of them holstered their weapons.

“I saw the Imperials on my approach. When I landed, Doc here briefed me on the situation.” Phee explained.

“How did you get in here unseen?” Hunter enquired.

“Used the hidden cavern access when I docked my ship.”

“We’re gonna need to borrow that.” Crosshair insisted by way of greeting.

Phee regarded the new face with a knowing smile, “You must be Crosshair. Tech told me all about your… sparkling personality.”

“Is that a no?” Crosshair replied, crossing his arms in his typical unimpressed fashion.

“Any friend of brown eyes is a friend of mine. Where are we heading?”

“An Imperial labour camp on Erebus.” Crosshair divulged with a heavy breath but if it meant a chance to get you and Omega back, he would face the demons of his past.

“Ooh, I like this already.” Phee said with a roguish grin. She led the way down, with Wrecker joining her first.

Crosshair faced his sibling and started nervously, “Hunter-”

Hunter just about managed a single, reassuring nod. “I know, Crosshair.”

“I wanted to- if there had been any other way- I’m-”

Hunter touched his brother’s shoulder. “I don’t blame you, Crosshair. Not at all.” He exhaled a sharp sigh, “It was the right call. Besides, you couldn’t have stopped them, no matter how much you wanted to. All that matters is that I know we’re getting them back.”

Crosshair studied his brother. Of all the reactions he’d expected, this one had been low on the list. This was a different type of determination that gave him the impression that Hunter meant what he was saying, but there was more that he was not allowing himself to feel or express anymore.  

Hunter removed his hand before they both stepped onto the platform to follow the others down.

--

Being helpless to Phee’s plan of sending the ship into a vertical nosedive in order to get past the perimeter had emulated Tech’s crazy, yet somehow effective piloting, and it became very clear why the friendship between the two of them had been growing into something more.

With Phee being on standby for a retrieval after she’d dropped them in, they’d managed to infiltrate the system and find out what prison transport Rampart was on and taking the turbo-tank from the Imperials on-board had been a simple task in the end.

Hunter took control of the steering.

Wrecker and Crosshair took up position by the doorway to the prison hold.

Crosshair touched the walls, “It’s magnetically sealed. Wrecker, remember Plan 55?” Crosshair waited patiently as his brother worked on remembering the details of it.

“Oh. Yeah. 55. Waiting on you. Go.” Wrecker said in quick realisation as he prepared his blaster.

Crosshair opened the door, and they advanced down the corridor.

--

The door opened and Crosshair instantly ricocheted his blaster bolt around the walls, killing most of the troopers and Wrecker took care of the few stragglers that remained.

“Ct-9904?” Rampart said in disbelief as he recognised the uniformed clone.

“You remembered. How touching.” Crosshair sneered as he stared at the former admiral. The ill-fitting, dirty orange jumpsuit and raggedy beard and untidy hair gave a distinct worn and dishevelled appearance to the Imperial that Crosshair knew he would despise, and he found the whole thing rather satisfying. He tapped the side of his helmet to let Hunter know, “The target’s secured.”

“The target?” Rampart repeated with outrage. “What is this? Are you here to kill me?”

“Tempting, but no.”

Wrecker cleared his throat, interrupting the discussion between them, “What about them?” He asked in reference to the other prisoners on board.

--

Hunter slowed the turbo-tank to a stop to let Wrecker and Crosshair release the remaining prisoners.

“All clear.”

Wrecker’s confirmation on the comms prompted Hunter to get the tank moving again.

--

“And what about me?” Rampart asked as the larger clone came back from freeing the others.

“You’re fine right where you are.” Crosshair replied tersely.

“If you’re not here to execute me, and you’re not letting me go, then you must need something from me.” Rampart deduced.

“Tantiss base. Where is it?” Crosshair asked briskly.

“Ah. Tantiss.” Rampart repeated as if the answer had been what he’d expected. “And how much is that information worth to you?”

“You’re not in a position to bargain.” Crosshair growled.

“Hmm. I disagree. I’ll talk after you get me off this planet.” Rampart negotiated smoothly, “You don’t get what you want if I don’t get what I want.”

“We’re approaching the bridge. Wrecker, man the cannon.”

Hunter’s voice on the comms interrupted the tension settling between the three men and Wrecker set off to do as instructed.

--

From the activation of the bridge gates and barricades and the tank that was approaching from the other side of the bridge, it had become pretty clear that the Imperials were onto them, but Hunter wasn’t about to let that stop him. It would take a lot more than that and probably not even then. He increased the speed of the vehicle and powered through them.

The enemy tank opened fire on them, but Wrecker was quick to respond however the blaster fire wasn’t making a dent in either transport.

There wasn’t time for a firefight, “Their armour’s too strong. Take out the wheels.” Hunter ordered Wrecker as he kept the speed of the tank on a steady increase.

Wrecker did just that and the tank came to a crashing halt as the front set of wheels exploded.

Hunter simply ramped up the power and sent their tank flying over the downed Imperial vehicle.

--

In the chaos of the tank righting itself, Crosshair and Rampart had gotten thrown to the ground.

Rampart attempted to use the opportunity to grab a free blaster, but the clone shot it out of his hands.

Crosshair got to his feet and trained his sniper on Rampart.

 “Oh please. You’re not going to kill me.” Rampart said confidently.

Crosshair set his rifle to stun. “Hmm. Not yet.” He replied simply before he knocked the man out and grab him by the collar.

--

He’d managed to get the tank through to the other side of the bridge, but the sight of approaching gunships caused Hunter to dramatically drop the speed and he drifted the tank onto an off-road path- the narrow cliffside wasn’t enough to deter him from the pace at which he was driving.

Crosshair opened the door to rejoin his two brothers and he dragged Rampart’s body inside.

Hunter tapped the side of his helmet, “Phee, we’re past the perimeter and need that pickup.” He said into his comm but all he heard was the fuzzy sound of static.

Wrecker was able to fire back and destroy one of the gunships on their tail, but he couldn’t stop the other one from making up ground. “Cannons are offline!” He shouted with an aggravated punch to the console as he saw the power go down. “We’ve got troopers up top.” He said as another sensor beeped. He and Crosshair both got ready to deal with it but the reaction from Hunter stopped them both.

Hunter, uncaring about the precarious path, merely weaved the tank in an aggressive pattern to toss the troopers off. This entire thing was getting old rather fast, he had more important things to be doing now. Most fell quickly but one soldier managed to tumble over the side that had a ladder he could cling onto, so Hunter smashed the lone trooper into the cliffside.

Whilst that plan had worked, it hadn’t deterred the final gunship which landed a successful shop that disabled the steering. The controls went rigid in Hunter’s hands. “Controls are dead.” He voiced aloud. They could really use that pickup now.

“We’re running out of road!” Wrecker cried as he saw the end of the path rapidly approaching.

Then, the glorious sound of explosions sounded from the outside.

“Not exactly a stealth exit, boys.” Phee commed in as she took out the final gunship.

“Let’s move!” Hunter directed as they all made their way to the roof of the tank.

--

Wrecker watched as his brothers made the jump to Phee’s extended ramp. He tossed Rampart’s limp body on the stairs but the gap between the tank and Phee’s ship was increasing, and he couldn’t be confident that he’d make the jump. “Move closer!”

Hunter saw the end of the road was drawing nearer and there wasn’t more time to get the distance exactly right. “Hurry! Jump!” He urged.

Wrecker took a few steps back before he ran and leaped over. He slid down the last couple steps but fortunately, Hunter had a secure hold on his upper arm, so he was able to be pulled securely on board.

Phee got the ship out of any further harms way.

--

Crosshair, being the only one of the three of them to keep his helmet on, kicked Rampart’s leg to wake him up.

Rampart came around with a wince.

“We got you off the planet. Now tell us where Tantiss is.” Crosshair demanded.

Rampart released a reluctant groan, “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Complicated how?” Hunter asked snappishly.

“No one knows the coordinates to Tantiss. It was designed that way. But I might know how to get around that.” He said but he didn’t elaborate.

Crosshair was getting tired of his games. “Either you tell us now, or we drop you back in that Imperial prison.”

“Now, now. No need for threats.” Rampart tisked. “After all, we’re in this together. Retrieving the young girl will be no easy task, but the girl and a Jedi? You’ll need my expertise so best play nice.” Rampart smirked as he saw the way all three of them stiffened their posture. “Oh yes, word travels amongst the unsavoury characters I was forced to be in close quarters with and between the officers.”

He fixed his stare on Hunter whose jaw was clenched so tight; Rampart wondered if the act was causing him physical pain. “CT-9904 had some rather interesting information to share about the two of you. I didn’t think the protocol would’ve allowed for such… fraternisations.”

Crosshair recoiled slightly as he remembered the conversations. Rampart’s words felt like he may as well have just punched him in the gut, and Crosshair risked a glance to Hunter as he readied his own apologies, but Hunter wasn’t looking at him.

Hunter stalked around the table to stand over the seated form of Rampart who was already beginning to cower into the booth. “You’re here because we need your information but let me make something very clear to you…”

This particular demeanour Hunter was exhibiting was foreign territory to the two brothers. Crosshair and Wrecker watched the interaction closely in case they were needed to intervene, more for their brother’s sake than Rampart’s.

Hunter’s voice took on a tone that was so low and so threatening, it even put Wrecker and Crosshair on edge and made them stand up a little taller. “Mention her or Omega again and you’ll wish you were back on Erebus.”

And Rampart could tell by the intensity of his stare and the conviction behind his words that the clone wasn’t bluffing either. Rampart’s throat went dry, and he swallowed a few times to find his voice again, “P-” He cleared his throat. “Point- point taken.” He said shakily. He’d miscalculated his power in this situation rather badly. Despite the fact he was the one that had the information to offer, it would only be worth it if he got out of here in one piece and the clones kept to their end. Evidently, that would not happen if he pushed that particular button too much.  

Satisfied that his words had landed, Hunter turned to go back to the cockpit but jutted his head for Crosshair to follow him.

Wrecker offered a supportive pat on Crosshair’s shoulder as he left.

--

“Phee, can you go watch Rampart with Wrecker for a few minutes?” Hunter asked tightly as he felt his emotional control slipping.

“Uh, sure.” Phee said with a questioning look between the two clones but the tension in the air was palpable, so she didn’t linger.

Crosshair removed his helmet and waited nervously for his brother to speak.

“What did you tell him?” Hunter ground out as he pushed the rising wave of emotions back down.

Crosshair looked down at the floor in shame. “Nothing. I-”

The wave came back stronger this time, and he couldn’t stop the knee-jerk reaction to his brother’s evasiveness. “Crosshair!” Hunter interrupted heatedly.

Crosshair met Hunter’s stare.

Hunter started talking but his words came out short and sharp with his voice rising with each sentence. “Rampart can’t gain any leverage here. If he has anything about her, about me, about our relationship that he could use against us… against me then I have to know! I need to know what he knows!”

Crosshair kept his voice level; a shouting match would do no good here and Hunter had every right to be reacting the way he was. All Crosshair could do was hope Hunter would believe him. “He doesn’t know anything. Not really.” Crosshair took a breath. “I told him getting her in Imperial custody might be a good way to get you. It would be a way to get you to slip up and come out of hiding. And if you came, the rest of the squad would follow. Nothing specific, I swear.”

Hunter looked at Crosshair but everything on his face and everything he knew about his brother told him he was telling the trust. He didn’t sense any dishonesty and he wasn’t about to throw away the trust he’d built and regained with Crosshair over some stupid comment from Rampart. He relaxed his stance and his tone, “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Hunter said as he pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to quell the oncoming headache that had been brewing since leaving Pabu.

Crosshair dismissed the unnecessary apology. “I’d expected a lot worse.” He recognised the signs and knew his brother needed a moment to himself now, so he quietly left the cockpit.

Hunter exhaled deeply and reached under his clothes and clasped the leather chord as he pulled out the necklace. He fiddled with the Jedi symbol that decorated it and allowed himself the few seconds of ease and happy memories the action brought before he hid it once more.

Hunter shook off everything that had just transpired and put everything else that wasn’t involved in getting you and Omega back to the back of his mind before he rejoined the others.

--

Omega’s body was heavy with weariness. These tests had taken hours and after the night she’d already had, her body was struggling to fight against the urge to just slide of the stool and sink to the floor.

Her ears pricked up as she heard a cheering dinging, but she saw the curious yet slightly concerned look Emerie shot her way. Omega didn’t have any time to enquire more about that since Hemlock returned.

“Dr. Karr, what are Omega’s results?”

“Her blood sample yielded a favourable M-count replication.”

“As expected.” Hemlock said as he looked to the young girl.

“What does that mean?” Omega asked.

“I’ll show you.” Hemlock replied.

Omega was left with little choice but to follow Hemlock out and walk a route that was unfamiliar to her.

--

“Did you know an individual’s M-Count cannot be directly replicated?” Hemlock quizzed as he led the way to the vault. “Attempts have been made but each time, the levels degraded. And so we experimented.” He opened the doors to the corridor illuminated with red beams and gestured for Omega to carry on.

Omega didn’t move yet. “Where are you taking me?”

“The vault.”

Together, the two of them then carried on walking.

“We tried various methods, mixing samples from out other test subjects, yet nothing worked...” Hemlock continued to divulge, “until we combined your sample with one of our M-Count specimens.”

Together, the two of you would make a scientists dream so Omega couldn’t understand Hemlock’s command to separate the two of you. What did he have planned for you that was so different to anything else that would lie behind the doors ahead. “Then why couldn’t we stay with each other?”

Hemlock paid no attention to the broader meaning behind question. He kept his focus on her role here instead. “You are a vital piece to our work here, Omega.”

Omega stopped short as the doors opened and she was met with the sight of three children- they were a few years younger than her- and a baby. She recovered quickly and asked, “Who are they?”

“They are the rest of the puzzle. And this, this is your new home.” Hemlock turned around and walked out.

Omega heard the doors shut with a secure clash and she gulped as she took in the space.

She was confined. Again.

--

You felt a flicker of fear as the door opened and you saw the tiny cell you were to be put in.

The walls were blank and grey.

There wasn’t any type of bed.

All that was there was a thick silver chain with shackles attached to it that was weaved through a notch in the wall.

All of that added to the already freezing temperature of the cell.

One of the troopers shoved you hard in the back and you tripped into the room.

“SP-42, you need to wear this uniform now.”

You studied the face of the woman that gave you the drab, grey clothes and you saw traces of Omega in her face. Plus, it was obvious she was doing her best not to give away the fact that she knew who you were. “Emerie, isn’t it? Omega mentioned you.”

Emerie shifted uncomfortably but subtlety nodded. “She talked about you, too.” She said quietly before she addressed you at a louder volume with a more official stature. “But I really need you to follow my instructions, SP-42.”

“Please, SP-42 was my father. My first name will be fine. I have a feeling we’ll be spending a lot of time together.” You quipped as you took off your armour, the rest of your clothes and changed into the uniform that was handed to you.

“Ah, the use of humour to distract one from the pain of their current situation.”

Your blood ran cold at the soft and quiet yet threatening voice, but you masked your discomfort quickly as Hemlock came into view. “Oh great, it’s SP-Fuckface.” You remarked crudely as you fixed him with an intense glare.

Emerie tensed up at the comment as she took your personal items from you and handed them to one of the troopers.

“Come now, I thought your people were above such vulgar words.” Hemlock fully came into the cell.

“My people and I tended to differ on a lot of things.” You responded icily.

“Indeed.” Hemlock mused.

You forced yourself to keep your eyes up and not look disgusted by the way he touched the half-skull insignia on your old top.

Hemlock nodded to the one of the troopers to take them away and he inhaled deeply before he gave you his full attention. “I must say, this has been a long-awaited reunion. I offer you my congratulations- the search for you always proved most troublesome, despite your rather public endeavours against the Empire. You were a hard one to predict. Even the information I’d been given ahead of time was not always relevant.”

“Sorry I couldn’t make my capture convenient for you.” You retorted as the troopers took your hands behind your back and secured the shackles to your wrists. You pulled against the chain to test it, but it was strong and only extended a short way, so the bitter metal of the shackles instantly dug into your skin.

Hemlock ignored you and kept to his train of thought, “So, imagine my surprise when I got word that you’d handed yourself in all those months ago.”

“What are-” The realisation that hit you brought with it an overwhelming nausea as you stared at him and the cruel smile on his face.

It had always been Hemlock.

From the moment he’d known what you were.

From the moment you escaped him and made the decision to stop hiding.

From the moment you handed yourself over to the Imperials on Christophsis.

It was never just any Imperial official that wanted you.

It all led back to him.

“The secure prison facility…” Your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper as you recalled the words of the Imperial’s that had been getting ready to transport you off Christophsis.

“Very good.” Hemlock complimented. “If it weren’t for the incompetence of those officers in charge of you, I would’ve had you here a lot sooner.”

You reminded yourself of your training as you felt your breathing quicken and the panic that flared in your gut. You got your emotions under control and made sure you presented yourself as if his words had no impact on you.

Hemlock nodded as he saw your reaction, or lack thereof. It only proved he was right to take this course of action with you. You were no mere specimen. “Do you know that little display of yours in the hallway caused several concussions and a few dislocated shoulders?”

“If you’re looking for an apology, you’re not going to find one here.” You snapped.

Hemlock simply gave you a cool smile, “You misunderstand. I know that was only a taste of what you are capable of and it’s that strength of yours will prove most useful to my operation here.”

The panic came back again. “Useful?” You repeated, determined to keep the quiver out your voice as he started to circle you. You kept your eyes firmly towards the door as you felt him pause by your side.

“You see, I have great plans for you.” Hemlock whispered into your ear.

His breath was cold against your skin, and you were fighting against every instinct that was telling you to flinch away.

“Why am I here?” Still managing to keep your voice steady.

“You are here because I wish to study you.” Hemlock let out a deep sigh as he breathed in the scent of your hair. “You are here because having someone with your talents will be most beneficial.” He stroked his hand down the back of your skull. “You are here because you are going to join my operatives. With you being a part of them, nothing will stop me from achieving my goal.”

You had to jerk away from him then, “No.” You breathed in horror. “Never.”

“The very fact that you think you will have a choice shows how little you understand your situation.”

The walls of the room felt like they were closing in around and you could feel your knees growing weak, but you pushed yourself to stay upright. “You can’t break me. Your fellow Imperials tried already.” But the low, mocking chuckle you got in reply deeply unnerved you.

“You will find my methods to be more… sophisticated than what you’re used to.”

You felt his gloved hand trace down your clothed back, following the exact pattern of the scars left behind after everything you endured on Christophsis. You forced down the bile that rose in your throat.

Hemlock traced the pinprick scar on your neck, enjoying the way you attempted to flinch away from him before your stubborn strength kicked in and you stood still. You would provide him a most stimulating challenge that he was yet to meet, even the other prisoner hadn’t resisted as much as he expected. “I focus far more on the mind than those imbeciles on Christophsis. Perhaps if they’d used their interrogation droid more wisely, I would’ve been reacquainted with you sooner.”

Your entire body went numb. His vile words were far more threatening than any of the Imperials and troopers you’d come across.

“They didn’t understand what they had in their possession, but I do. Your mind will become mine. You will be one of my operatives.”

“And if I don’t?” You would sooner die than join him and you knew he had to know that too.

Hemlock came round to stand in front of you once more. “Then your time here will be short-lived. But I hope we can avoid such an unpleasant outcome. After all, Omega’s fate could depend on it.”

You lunged forward but the chain tugged you backwards immediately.

“Take her vitals and return to the vault.” Hemlock ordered as he placed his hands behind his back and walked out.

It took everything in you to keep standing as Emerie drew a sample of your blood.

Emerie avoided eye contact with you. That entire interaction had her struggling not to bolt. She just kept her sights firmly on the vial as she stepped away from you and headed towards the door.

“Emerie.”

Emerie paused but kept her back to you.

“Look out for her, okay? She might not need it but it’s looking like I can’t be the one to be there for her if she does.”

Emerie nearly turned to face you, but she stopped herself and said nothing as she exited.

Only when Emerie left did you collapse to your knees on the stone ground and let the emotions leave you in frantic, terrified breaths.

You allowed yourself a moment to lose yourself in your situation before you regained your composure.

You adjusted yourself into as comfortable as a position you could manage.

You closed your eyes and allowed the Force to wrap you in its calming and secure presence.

He wouldn’t break you.

No matter what he thought he could do.

He wouldn’t get to you.

You would get out of here somehow.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @andreaaxy, @dominoeffectsworld, @notgonnaedit , @allthingsimagines @nightmonkeysstuff, @jellybeanstacey0519 , @callsign-denmark , @superbookishhufflepuff

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Percy is lowkey the only one that really understands Weasley!Reader’s complicated relationship with their parents and money so the two of them are closer then any of the other siblings

Percy doesn’t approve of the things that his little brother is doing but climbs the political ladder at the Ministry just to use his connections to keep the smoke off of his brother and his criminal activities

I love this so much🥰💕. I was honestly so conflicted how I thought Percy would be about the whole situation but I love how you put it. I already headcanoned in my own mind that Percy would be the first (and probably only one) in the family to find out about what the Reader was doing and that’s merely because he happened across the Reader during a dealing they were doing in one of the back allies of Hogsmead during school or at Diagon Alley before the school year started.

I imagine Percy being pretty upset and disappointed with the Reader at first but when they give their reasoning he calms down and is understanding of it. He even hunts his younger sibling felling terrible that they feel the need to resort to illegal means as to provide for their family. I think this would even cause Percy to resent their parents a little more than normal. If they only made better decisions or tried to strive a little harder in life then his younger sibling wouldn’t feel such a need to go down the path they’re going, and at such a young age too, all just to help out the family cause they’re parents can’t.

Percy would definitely involve himself in the Reader’s ‘business’, more so to ensure his sibling is safe and protected throughout it. But he doesn’t start out too thoroughly involved, just some behind the scenes stuff and covering for the Reader whether at home or school, until eventually he finds himself calculating the business’ overall earnings or looking into new ways to branch out the business as a whole in its’ dealings and who all it deals with.

When it comes to Lestrange!Daughter!Oc, Percy is skeptical. He doesn’t trust her at all, whatsoever, especially regarding his sibling. Hell, he probably believes early on that she’s the one who got the Reader into doing this type of stuff to begin with. Even after quite awhile of having her around and being involved in everything Percy would still be very skeptical of Lestrange!Daughter. He just can’t bring himself to trust her with his sibling. He’s seen first hand what she’s capable of when it comes to the Reader and that only worries him so much more.

Also, Percy coming across the Reader really hurt after a dealing gone wrong. Probably an incident that occurred earlier on when the Reader’s business was still in the early stages. I imagine things like this still happen every so often but the Reader is much better at handling the situation and putting whoever in their place by whatever means necessary, not to mention Lestrange!Daughter is there to take out whoever she sees fit (especially if they dare to cause any harm to her beloved darling). But no matter how many times it happens, Percy never gets use to it. No matter how far he’s involved it still hurts him to see his younger sibling getting so badly hurt because of everything. Especially when the Reader is at home after a particularly rough interaction; cuts, bruises, and broken bones, but they’re just so happy to be back with everyone, acting like nothing ever happened.

[padfootagain]

Black Dog Neighbour

Hi everyone ! Today, we’re answering a request made for my 6k followers event by @nobodyshomearchive : “hi hello lovely xxi have been hooked to your blog lately, and to say that is an understatement in all honesty. congratulations on 6k followers <33 so for your celebration can i get an enemies to lovers (ouh massive surprise 👀) with sirius black (preferably post azkaban but it's okay if you don't want to!) cause i'm literally so head over heels for that man. and i'm loving your something good series :) again, congrats and feel free to ignore the request if you don't feel like writing it/it doesn't hit your creative spot.

have a great day/night hun <;3”

Thank you so much for your request, and I hope you like this! I didn’t do post-azkaban Sirius, because he doesn’t exist in my brain. I have been in denial for so long, the Potters are living their best lives, didn’t you know?!

Anyway, still went for post-Hogwarts and post-war Sirius, simply didn’t include anything referencing to Azkaban or… anything canon compliant, to be fair. But as per usual for me when it comes to this character…

Hope you like this! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warnings: A small warning for an ex being an arse and showing up drunk on your doorstep (there’s nothing violent, but you do physically push him away, so heads up on that, just in case). But the rest’s cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute!!!

Summary: God, you hate that guy next door. Bloody annoying neighbour with his noisy motorcycle, his loud friends, his annoying laugh, his charming smile, his amazing hair, his effortless way to sport sexy leather jackets. He’s insufferable, you hate him to bits. The fact that he’s a talented wizard who can magically change into a dog to guard your door when your ex comes bothering you again will not change your first impression in the slightest, by the way. You still hate him to guts. Probably…

Word count: 4592

Sirius Black Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Sirius fucking Black.

Your neighbour, aka worst enemy, aka the person you despise the most on earth.

He is loud. He is annoyingly pretty. He is getting on your fucking nerves... again!

Of course, it is Friday night, which means that his stupid friends are over for a “boys’ night”. What a scam…

In consequence, you are currently casting sound-proofing spells all over your walls in an attempt to shush their idiotic laughs. And especially Sirius’s; his unmistakable bark-like laughter, loud and boisterous and absolutely prone to draw a grin from your face even if you don’t mean to. By Agrippa’s hat, you will soon either cut his throat or call for an auror. Or maybe you could burst into his apartment and shout into his face just so he can see how bloody annoying that is. Or kissing him to shut him up sounds like a plan, too…

You shake your head, grinning at your own genius idea. Sirius and his friends are being rudely loud again, when you have already told them a thousand times – which is to say every Friday for the last six months, since Sirius moved in the apartment next to yours – that the walls in this old building of Diagon Alley are too thin, that you can hear everything going on in Sirius’s apartment despite sound-proofing spells… and that they need to keep it down past 11pm because you have work the next day. The absolute dread of working in retails does not, by any means, spare the Wizards and Witches of this world…

You look through your apartment for the object that would make the most noise. You give a few items a try, but settle for the good old pan and spoon. Ha, what precious allies these two are, never failing you.

You add a little spell to amplify sounds – just for good measure – find some earplugs, and then proceed to bang the shit out of that pan, right by your common wall with Sirius’s apartment.

It goes on for five full minutes before you manage to catch the quietened sound of something against your door…

And sure enough, when you stop and take your earplugs out, someone is banging at your door.

“Y/N!” a voice that you easily recognize shouts. “STOP THIS FUCKING NOISE!”

You open the door wide, and have to bend to the side to avoid Sirius’s fist as it misses the door.

“Merlin! Sorry! You’re okay? I didn’t touch you, right?” Sirius asks with anger instantly replaced with worry.

“I have amazing reflexes.”

And anger is back into his dark grey eyes again...

“What the fuck are you doing in there?! Are you mental?!”

“I don’t know, Sirius. I didn’t notice anything over the cacophony of your friends shouting into my ears all night!”

His jaw clenches, and you hate yourself for noticing the trembling of the muscle there, and finding it terribly attractive…

“And you had to make all this ruckus instead of simply walking three meters to my door and nicely ask us to shut our mouths because…?”

“Because I’ve asked you dozens of times, this has been going on for fucking months, Sirius!”

He rolls his eyes, and Merlin do you want to punch him straight across the jaw… his very sharp, very pretty jaw…

“We’re just having a nice evening…”

“And I am trying to sleep!”

“It’s barely midnight!”

“I work tomorrow, you asshole!”

“Ermm… guys?”

“WHAT?!” you both exclaim, turning to face a shy-looking Remus.

“Sorry about the noise, Y/N. We’ll be more careful next time. We’ll leave for the evening.”

“You don’t have to leave…” Sirius complains, but James is already walking out, helping a drunk Peter to cross the corridor.

“It’s late, anyway. Lily’s gonna worry, I was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago,” James argues, and Sirius has to yield.

“Alright, see you on Sunday, then!” he shoots his friends a grin, and the group waves at you.

You rudely ignore them, crossing your arms before your chest. And as Sirius turns back to you, his frown is icy and he quickly matches your stance.

“You’re such a pain in my ass, Y/N…”

“And you’re a jerk.”

“Asshole.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“You’re one to talk!”

“Oh, you talk plenty enough for both of us. And loudly so!”

Before he can reply, you’ve stepped back into your apartment and slammed the door.

You hear him pestering after you for a moment, then nothing, and finally a door slamming.

Well, that went well…

You are in trouble.

Big… huge trouble.

Your ex has just stepped into your shop, and you don’t know how to react.

You didn’t break up in a horrendous way, on the contrary! He wanted the two of you to remain friends, and you simply didn’t, worried that you wouldn’t be able to get over each other if you stayed in touch. And by the look he gave you as he stepped inside your shop ten minutes ago, and the many glances he’s thrown at you since, you’re pretty sure that you were right about this.

It's not like your relationship was terrible, by any means. Josh was nice, reliable, but also… not for you. You didn’t have much in common, at the end of the day, and if his personality and looks were nice, it was hard to build a lasting relationship on… nothing. It was for the best that you called it quits.

And as if your day needed any darkening, Sirius Black chooses this very moment to step into your shop. You don’t wait for him to aim for the counter to take out a large pouch in which you have gathered all the ingredients for his friend’s monthly brew. He smiles at the sight, moves towards you. And you hate yourself for the leap your heart makes as he comes closer.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi.”

It’s the first time you speak to each other since the ‘spoon and pan incident’, and you both hesitate. How are you supposed to act now? Apologise for being petty and kind of a dick? Ask for his apology for being a dick? Act like nothing happened?

“Thanks for Remus’s stuff,” Sirius says, voice quieter than usual, gentle, asking for a truce.

Outside, it’s snowing, winter claiming the streets of London, and there are little snowflakes caught in Sirius’s hair. It looks lovely.

All of a sudden, you’re longing for some eggnog, and some pumpkin pie.

His fingers are cold when they meet yours, tips brushing over your knuckles as he picks up the bag, and you hate your own heart for stammering.

“No problem. You know the drill,” you tentatively smile, while Sirius hands you some silvery Sickles.

“I would also need pearl dust, please. Here’s the amount.”

He hands you a parchment with quantities written on it, four small packages to be prepared separately.

“How many hearts do you intend to break with so many love potions?” you joke, turning around to get to work.

The brass scale is set on a small table, pushed right against the wall, behind the counter. It is an easy task for a professional like you, measuring quickly while Sirius laughs.

“No one, thankfully,” he replied.

“Oh… some Amortentia, perhaps? Trying to figure out who your crush likes?”

“No… nothing like that. It’s the properties for invisibility that I’m looking for.”

“If you plan on breaking into Gringotts, I don’t want to know.”

Again, a loud laugh. And you wish you could hold back your smile, but you can’t, the sound is too infectious for that.

You’ve forgotten that your ex is here, you’re reminded of his presence only when you turn back towards Sirius and he’s standing right behind your tall neighbour, a bag of potion ingredients in his hands.

You avert your eyes, and Sirius frowns at the sight. He glances over his shoulder, spots your ex, but says nothing. You only notice how he tightens his hold on the pouch.

“Pearl dust’s quite expensive,” you tell him, handing him the phials, before announcing the price.

“That’s alright.”

He hands you the galleons, takes the vials, but doesn’t step away just yet.

“You… you’re okay?” he asks, and you’re not sure what to do with his expression. It’s somewhere between annoyance and genuine concern.

“Yeah, sure.”

He nods, like he’s disappointed. He’s not bringing up The Incident, and so you won’t either.

“Right, good day.”

He turns in a hurry, not waiting for your answer, but you notice the way he throws a look back before stepping out into the street, snow falling over his dark coat and dark hair again. You hate how your eyes linger on his frame until he’s out of sight, walking down the busy street, but you can’t help it…

“Hello, Y/N.”

You’re brought back to Earth as your ex speaks, and you turn to him, your smile turning from genuine to polite.

“Hi, Josh.”

“How are you?”

“Good! Do you need anything else?” you ask, pointing at the ingredients he’s put on the counter.

“Huh… no, nothing else.”

“That makes two Galleons, 5 Sickles and 3 Knuts, please.”

He hands you some money, and you hand him his change. You see him hesitating, before diving.

“Look, I… I came here hoping to see you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I… I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about what happened, and… Look, I know I could have done better when it came to us. And I thought… perhaps… if you were willing to give me another chance…”

“Josh…”

“Just… hear me out...”

“No. I’m sorry, but no. We… we were not compatible, that’s all. I like you, you’re nice, but… It won’t work between us.”

Slowly, he nodded, apparently defeated. And when another client cleared their throat behind him, he finally left.

What a mess of a morning…

It is Friday night, and the Marauders are keeping it down. You are surprised by it, but you can only praise these men for being, for once, well-behaved. 11:30, as you slip under the covers, ready for some well-deserved rest before waking up too early to open the shop in the morning. You are ready to fall into Morpheus’s arms and abandon yourself to slumber when someone knocks on your door.

You ignore the sound for a while, but it starts again, and again…

And you thought Sirius was making some efforts. You were ready to commit murder…

You stand up, grab a bathrobe and walk to the door, ready to throw hands with Sirius at this point. Only… only, when you actually open the door, it’s not Sirius who’s facing your wrath.

It’s Josh.

“What… What are you doing here?” you ask, too stunned to think about being polite. “It’s almost midnight.”

But then he looks up at you, and you notice at once that he’s been drinking. His eyes are glimmering, he sways slightly before finding back his balance…

“Josh…”

“Y/N, I… I know that now is not the time, but… please, give me another chance. Please…”

“Josh, we’ve talked about this. Us… it’s over. We’re not getting back together. I’m sorry.”

“But I can try and be better. I’ll be better, let me show you.”

You push him off when he staggers forward, trying to hold you.

“Josh! Stop it!” you raise your voice, trying to get him to let go.

“Please…”

“I said no! Get off!”

He’s finally letting go, but doesn’t take a step back. Instead, he leans against your doorframe, not stepping inside, but making it impossible for you to simply go back in and close the door.

“Josh! Go away! I’m sorry, but this is over between us. You have to leave me alone!”

“But I don’t want to! Y/N!”

“Hey!”

You’re both distracted by the new voice that comes shouting through the corridor. Sirius is standing before his front door, wearing a Queen t-shirt and some dark sweatpants, in what you guess his is nightly outfit. Still, when he comes nearer, hair tied in a bun, glowering, he looks intimidating, tattoos all over his arms on full display, traces of ink peeking above the collar of his t-shirt.

You think for a second that he’s going to make a scene because of how noisy you are right now, not ironic at all given his habits of messing your sleeping schedule, and you’re ready to get angry at him, because this truly is the last thing you need tonight, when…

“You leave her the fuck alone!”

You’re too stunned to react when Sirius comes to stand right by your side.

“She told you to fuck off, so you fuck off!”

“Who the fuck are you?” Josh replied, words a little slurred.

“Her boyfriend,” Sirius lies, but it works wonders, as Josh becomes suddenly very pale. “Now, you fuck off, or I’ll throw you out of the building.”

“You? With him?” Josh asks as he turns to you, and you feel pity for the pain in his eyes, but you don’t regret leaving him.

“Yeah. He’s my boyfriend. Now, please, Josh… leave me alone.”

But he shakes his head.

“I can’t. I can’t. I still love you…”

Sirius looks at you, but you shake your head.

“You have to leave me alone and move on.”

“No… I… I’ll come back later…”

Sirius notices your worry, it almost looks like fear, and he doesn’t hesitate when he grabs Josh by the collar.

“You listen to me now, dickhead,” Sirius growls, it’s almost animalistic, and you’re frozen by this threatening tone of his. “If you set a foot in this building again, if you go see her at her shop, if you so much as breathe in her direction or step in the street she’s in, I will come for you, and I will make sure you can never bother her again. Do you get that?”

“You’re bluffing.”

Sirius grins, something twisted and terribly dark, and even you shiver when he speaks again, voice low and terrible.

“I fought for the Order during the war. I’m a Black. Trust me, you don’t want to fuck with me.”

Slowly, Josh nods, struggling to swallow.

“So… will you leave her alone?”

Again, Josh nods.

“Good boy. Now get the fuck out of here.”

He’s barely released Josh that he’s sprinting down the stairs, stumbling and catching himself against the wall, before disappearing.

But you don’t see that. You’re staring at Sirius, and seem unable to look away.

“You’re alright?”

You’re startled by the softness Sirius’s voice is now wearing, such a stark contrast with the threatening tone he wore a minute ago.

“Y/N? You’re okay? He didn’t hurt you, right?”

“What? No… no, I’m fine! He just… showed up and I couldn’t get rid of him.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as he gets closer.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, just… a little shaken, I think.”

Slowly, Sirius nods.

“Hey, no need to worry, okay? I’ll keep an eye out tonight. He won’t bother you again. And if he does, in the coming days or weeks, and I’m not around, then you come and tell me. I’ll give him a good fright, and he’ll leave you alone.”

“Thanks but… why would you do that for me? You hate me.”

Sirius chuckles at that, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t hate you. You’re annoying, but I don’t hate you.”

“Oh…”

His touch is infinitely gentle when he rests his hand on your arm.

“You can go back to sleep. Don’t worry, he won’t bother you again tonight. I promise.”

Slowly, you nod, a little too stunned to complain or argue or discuss what has just happened. Instead, you walk back to your apartment, lock the door, and go back to bed, thinking about the way Sirius’s hands looked gentle without his rings…

You’re in a hurry this morning. Your brain has not finished to process everything that has happened last night, but this will have to wait. You must rush to the shop, and you can’t find your bloody wand…

Ha! There! What is it doing under the couch? Never mind, you need to hurry, and you need to hurry now!

Only, when you open the front door, you almost trip onto a large black door sleeping on your threshold. A huge black dog, as a matter of fact.

“What in Merlin’s beard…?!”

His ears perk up at the sound of your voice, and he looks up at you with dark grey eyes that remind you of someone…

But it’s impossible, of course. That must be his dog, though. Since when does Sirius has a dog though?!

The animal slowly stands, a real giant, all dark fur and intimidating growls, until he’s shaken some sleep off its frame, and then he looks up at you, as if expecting a command.

“Hi,” you say, feeling foolish, but finding nothing better to say.

The dog merely comes closer, slowly, ears down in submission, as if he’s worried to scare you away. You hold out your hand, and he hurries to rub his snout into it, licking your fingers.

You giggle at the sensation.

“You look intimidating, but you’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

He barks in agreement, and you give him scratches as a reward.

“Who do you belong to, huh? Are you Sirius’s dog?”

The dog merely licks your fingers again.

“You look the part, at least. You fit the motorcycle-and-leather-jackets aesthetic.”

A few scratches more, and you finally remember that you are running late…

“Shoot!”

You lock the door, hurry towards the stairs. But you stop the dog when he tries to follow.

“No, no, no! I’m going to work, you stay here. I’m sure Sirius will be back soon. You stay here.”

The dog blinks, but sits anyway, letting you go.

For the whole trip to the store, you wonder who this dog belongs to, and who would let him sleep outside like this. If he really did belong to Sirius, he would hear about this…

Your day is a weird one.

After arriving almost late, but not quite, you spend your morning being busy and running around the store looking for the right ingredients for various potions and clients. And yet, several times during your shift, you feel someone looking at you.

The first time, it’s Sirius, who’s squinting on the other side of the glass door. He looks away the second your eyes land on him, and you’re almost certain that he blushes, although you didn’t think it to be possible to make Sirius Black blush.

The second time, it’s the black dog again, who remains sitting by the door under the falling snow for about ten minutes before leaving.

The third time, it’s the dog again, you see him being petted by a customer as she walks out of the shop.

But if the dog belongs to Sirius, then you guess that he’s been around several times throughout the day, which seems odd. Also, you want to chastise him for leaving the animal alone in the cold for extended periods of time throughout the day. Is he heartless?!

So, as you go home that night, you leave your coat in your apartment before heading to Sirius’s.

He answers on the second knock.

“Oh! Hi, Y/N!” he grins a welcome at you. “Need anything?”

“Yeah… I wanted to talk to you, if you have a minute.”

He merely nods, moving to let you inside.

You’ve been here a couple of times before, but you still appreciate the warm atmosphere of the large space that forms his living room. A huge Gryffindor flag is hung across the wall on the right, while windows let you see falling snow over the roofs of Diagon Alley on the opposite side of the room. A large chimney surrounded by comfortable armchairs and sofas, along with a soft red carpet seem to call for you.

“So? What can I do for you, Y/N?”

You turn to him again while he points at the sofa, silently inviting you to sit, but you remain standing. You cross your arms, and he frowns at the sight.

“Where’s your dog?”

Your tone is sharper now, and his frown only deepens, brows knitted together.

“My what?”

“Your dog. Huge. Black. Looks like he could bite my throat off.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“Really? He’s been following me around all day. He was on my threshold this morning…”

“…Y/N…” he tries to interrupt you, but you don’t let him.

“No! Listen… Thank you for what you did last night. I was really… Thank you. Josh wouldn’t leave and you were most definitely helpful. But let’s be clear, I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself! I don’t need your protection or anything, got it?”

You wonder why he’s smiling now, but he is all the same.

“Got it. Was just trying to be helpful.”

“You were.”

“Good.”

“Good. But your good action doesn’t mean that I’m going to accept any harm coming to this cute dog of yours!”

“I thought he wanted to bite your throat off.”

“He looked like he could. He was pretty sweet, though.”

“Hmmm…”

“Anyway… what’s wrong with you!? Leaving him outside all night and then in the street while it was snowing!?”

“Y/N, relax. I don’t have a dog, let me explain.”

“Then whose dog is it? Cause we have to find his owner, I’m going to throw hands!”

Sirius laughs, his usual, bark-like laugh, and your puzzled by the sound. It resembles a bark even more than usual.

Sirius heaves a sigh, shakes his head, apparently hesitating, but eventually, he takes a step closer.

“You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this.”

“Why?”

“Because if you do, I might be arrested.”

Your eyes grow round.

Oh dear… the…

“…Potion. The potion! You’ve done something illegal with it!”

Sirius laughs again.

“The pearl dust you mean? It’s just a trick for my godson, for Christmas. How do you think the presents get under the tree without anyone carrying them in? The fellow is a rascal, standing watch all night to catch Santa red-handed. We need to get more and more creative each year. No, don’t worry, it’s nothing like that.”

“Oh… but then… what are you talking about?”

“Do you promise that you won’t tell?”

“Have you killed someone?”

“Of course not!”

“I don’t know, you were pretty… scary last night.”

“Did I scare you?”

“No… but Josh was ready to faint.”

He laughs again at that.

“I haven’t harmed anyone.”

“Okay… then, I promise.”

Sirius hesitates some more, before warning you not to freak out. You don’t have time to question him though, he’s already transforming into…

“… the black dog!”

You gasp at the sight, but you don’t back away when Sirius approaches under his animagus form. Instead, you reach out for him, giving him a few scratches between his ears, making him wiggle his tail happily.

“Oh wow… you’re an animagus! This is beautiful…”

He laughs as he changes back into human, the sound still somewhere close to a growl.

“Am I a good boy, then?” he teases, making you laugh. “No need to call for the animal welfare…”

“But… what were you doing around the shop today? And last night? Did you sleep on the porch?”

Sirius averts his eyes, and you have to double-check, but you’re certain that he is blushing right now.

“Ha, that… I didn’t mean to look like a creep or anything. But I… I was worried your ex would come back. Just wanted to check on you, ‘s all. I didn’t follow you around or anything! I just… went to check that you were alright at the shop a few times.”

“Why?”

He looks up at you with a slight frown, as if it is obvious, as if you’re stupid for not guessing.

“Because… I was worried about you.”

“About me?”

“Is it so surprising?”

“You hate me.”

“Again, I don’t hate you. You’re simply annoying the shit out of me. I like it, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

You blink, trying to make sense of all this, and Sirius looks at you with amusement.

“Is that why you were quiet last night? To not bother me?”

“Oh, the boys weren’t here. Busy week. We’ll be back at being insufferable next Friday.”

You roll your eyes at that, but Sirius laughs.

“I’m joking! I understand, okay? We’re too loud. We’ll keep it down from now on.”

“Right, okay…”

He bit his lip, ran a hand through his hair, in what you guess is shyness. God, you would have never thought to use this adjective to describe him. His rings catch the warm light of the fire burning in the hearth as he moves his fingers through his hair.

“Look, I… I’m sorry for the other night. Actually… for all the other nights. We’ll be more careful next time,” he says, and you raise an eyebrow in surprise.

You never thought you would hear an apology from him, even less so an earnest one, and yet…

“Thank you, Sirius. I’m sorry, too. It was petty and uncalled for.”

“No, you… you were right.”

He heaves a frustrated sigh, runs a hand through his long dark curls again, rebel strands falling before his eyes. You hold tightly onto the sleeve of your hoodie, refraining the sudden urge to push the curls away from his face, brush them behind his ear…

“Look, I… I don’t want us to be on bad terms,” Sirius goes on. “Could I make up for being a dickhead by buying you some fancy Christmas drink? My treat. As a token of good faith and a sign for peace in our building?”

He offers you his open palm, and you shake hands with a smile adorning both of your faces.

“Deal.”

“Any afternoon free this week?”

“Wednesday?”

“Then, I’ll buy you the fanciest cocoa I can find. And even some pumpkin pie, if you’re nice.”

“Sounds good.”

You’re reluctant to pull away but have to let go of his hand.

“Actually… scratch that,” Sirius shakes his head. “Would you go on a date with me?”

Your eyes grow round.

“A date? With you?”

“Yeah. On Wednesday?”

“But… with you?”

“Don’t act so surprised. You really think I play bodyguard for just anybody?”

You laugh at that, you can’t help it, even if you’re still quite stunned by the whole situation.

You weight your options, but then you look at him again, and the answer you want to give is obvious, even if he gets on your nerves all the bloody time…

“Okay. A date. On Wednesday.”

He grins, bright and infectious.

“Great! Awesome!”

“Great.”

“Great.”

You remain staring at each other for a moment, both of you trying to hide your excitement, until you finally clear your throat.

“I should…” you begin, pointing at the door.

“Sure… busy day?”

“You can’t imagine.”

“Hmm…”

You hurry towards the door, feeling overwhelmed by his nearness.

“See you on Wednesday then!” he calls after you as you reach for your own door.

“Sure! But it better be the best hot chocolate I’ve drunk, or I’ll ask for a refund!”

He laughs, and when you turn one last time towards him, Sirius is leaning against his doorframe, staring at you with a grin on his lips and mischief painted all over his features. He winks, and your heart skips several beats.

“Oh, don’t worry. You won’t regret this.”

*********************************

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[multifandomfix]

Blood Ties — Barty Crouch Jr

Summary: You’re a muggleborn adopted into a pureblood family after their newborn baby dies but no one knows. You’ve been in love with Barty Crouch Jr since you were teenagers, but his thoughts on blood status begin to worry you, so you come clean about your own.

Word Count: 761

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending

You walked down Diagon Alley, dimly lit by the streetlamps at this time of night. You were cloaked in a secret that threatened to unravel the life you'd built within the magical world, a secret that had been kept from you for most of your formative years. You’d been adopted into a prestigious pureblood family after the tragic loss of their newborn, and your true lineage remained hidden, known only to a select few.

Your heart also harbored its own secret, one that had been growing and stirring in your chest since your later years as a student at Hogwarts. Barty Crouch Jr, with his silver tongued charm and suave demeanor, had captured your heart in ways you couldn't explain.

Yet, as the years unfolded, whispers of Barty's beliefs on blood status began to echo through the wizarding world. Faint murmurings reached your ears, and a disquiet settled in your chest. You and Barty had always remained close, but it was these rumors that kept you from pursuing anything real with him. It seemed the chasm between your worlds may in fact be insurmountable as you grappled with the uncertainty of Barty's stance on Muggleborns.

One evening, a meeting was taking place in the Leaky Cauldron. The room crackled with the fire's warmth, and you found Barty lost in thought, his brow furrowed in contemplation in the far corner of the room. Taking your opportunity to approach, seeing as he was quite sequestered from the others, you decided to take the moment to come clean.

"Barty," you began, your voice was steady but you could feel the uncertainty start to seep in, "there's something I need to tell you."

His dark eyes met yours, and you felt the weight of the confession before the words left your lips. "I'm not a pureblood, Barty. I'm Muggleborn."

The revelation hung in the air. Silence enveloped your corner of the room, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Barty's expression shifted, his features contorted and you couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

You finally decided that you had to break the silence. "Does that change anything for you,” you asked, your heart pounding.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "No, it changes nothing. I can’t say anyone else here would approve, but haven’t I always known the heart of you?"

Relief washed over you and you quickly enveloped Barty in a tight hug. You snuck out of there quite quickly afterwards, before anyone else could question you being there. Days later, however, you couldn't shake the concern that lingered beneath the surface. Barty's reassuring words had answered your question, but shadows of doubt creeped at the periphery of your thoughts. You knew he was allied with the Death Eaters, but just like he’d said to you, he knew the heart of you, and you knew the same of him. At least, you thought you had.

One fateful night, in the depths of the Forbidden Forest, you confronted Barty amidst the gnarled trees. He was in deep with them now, and even meeting him was dangerous, but you had to know where you stood.

The moonlight cast long shadows amongst the trees, offering you both sufficient coverage. "You said you know the heart of me. Well, if that’s true, then know this. I love you, Barty, but I can't ignore the path you're choosing," you declared, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and determination. “It’s not too late to change. I’m asking you to make a choice.”

He regarded you curiously and remained mute. How had he never guessed your feelings for him? Was he truly that blind?

Tears welled in your eyes as you spoke the words that had lingered unspoken for too long. "I can't be a part of a world that seeks to divide based on blood. I won't abandon who I am, no matter how much I love you."

The silence that followed was heavy, echoing the finality of your decision. After his silence had gone on too long, you turned away. Yet in only several steps, Barty reached out, grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to him. “Don’t go. I want you to stay. I’ll choose you.” You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Do you mean it,” you asked.

“What does your heart say?”

You cracked a smile. “Then let’s leave here, run away and start over.”

“Let’s,” Barty agreed. He leaned in, kissed you and took your hand in his. Then, the two of you ran off into the night.

For anon

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[lunarw0rks]

Torn | Part Two

Summary: You're Philip Graves' secret lover, and it's complicated, to say the least. When your new 141 ally, Simon Riley, catches your eye, you're forced to make a decision.

Warning(s): canon-typical violence, strong language, death, mild injury/blood mention, slightly suggestive content

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Still unsure of this chapter, but nonetheless, here it is.

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GRAVES MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter | ao3 ver.

You knew what you signed up for when you joined Shadow Company, hand selected by Graves himself. It was mercenary work; unconventional jobs, covert ops, the works—that you could handle. But you couldn’t handle how it's changed him.

Maybe that was on you for being seduced by the boss, or maybe it was on him. The blame game you were beating yourself up with wasn’t aiding any of it.

Still, the thoughts that swarmed you the previous night—they were truly wrong. At least that was what your guilt was telling you. Graves? Hell, he never needed to know. He had just as much a roaming eye when it came to other women.

Infidelity should’ve been the least of your concerns, considering you were assisting your new allies in a high-priority op. You were quite literally putting on the gear that would protect you, triple checking your pack, and most of all stifling your own roaming eye.

Simon—or, Ghost—was the object of your fantasies, and you didn’t feel as horrible about that as you should’ve, despite all the internal conflict you were feeling. And now, to be standing next to the bloke, it was torturous.

Another second with Graves, you would’ve ripped his head off his shoulders and ran for the hills, so you would much rather suffer in silence as your eyes ogled. But this allyship would end one day, you’d go back to working with Shadow Company, and surely the kinks would work themselves out without further issue…

“You’re with me today.” Simon picks up his rifle, motioning his head in the direction of the door. You expected him to already be striding down the hall, but he was waiting for you to finish gathering your gear. Perhaps, he took pity on your widened gaze—God, if only he knew the reason why.

The heavy backpack found your shoulders, then you found your own piece, nodding for his speedy steps to lead you out of the armory.

His feedback crackled through the earpiece when he tested the sound, allowing you to hear the chatter of the other units, the other pairs assisting on this op, and most interestingly, Graves himself.

“You boys almost there?”

“Five minutes out. Nearly there.” Ghost answers him before you can, an act you’re immensely thankful for, though Graves would’ve said something so bland there was no chance it would raise anyone’s suspicion.

The ride is short; Simon looks out the window on his side, gun resting between his widespread legs. You, sneaking glances when you can, taking advantage of how he’d zoned out after minutes of unpaved road stretching. Finally, the small hideout revealed itself—the closest hint to Hassan’s location as of late. Surely, this couldn’t be it, given the small scale of the building. Graves wouldn’t waste resources and bring you here if it wasn’t, though. One look at Captain Price, and you knew he was for no-nonsense either.

None of it made sense to you, but you didn’t have the authority to question it.

You follow orders, get blacklisted, or end up dead in the dirt your combat boots are crunching in right this second. Simon led, making use of the buddy system formation—a diagonal line formation where you could watch each other’s six. His gun raised to the windows of the home, examining the lights illuminating the top floor, and most of all the silhouettes cast on the sheer curtains.

It’s an older-style home, surely not easy to maintain stealth with all the creaks of wood, and the tired settling frame when there’s the slightest movement. But with Ghost in front of you, you felt safer than you ever did when Graves led you in formation. You wished that didn’t make you feel so bad as it did to admit, downright queasy.

“Watch the kitchen.” His harsh tone stirred you out of your inner monologue, which resembled more of a melting pot of guilt and dwindling self-respect.

You aim your rifle in the direction of the kitchen, an L-shaped one with the original cabinets untouched and unpainted. A shotty pendant illuminated it, casting a golden tint on the entire downstairs. It wasn’t much of a house and definitely wasn’t one Hassan would use to hide. No armed guards, no booby traps, no suspicious documents in your or Simon’s sight.

It felt… unorthodox.

Cups of coffee sat on the tiny dining table, but they weren’t steaming. They were clearly left there longer than an hour, more than enough time for any useful informants to be found by now. You were there too late, you were sure of it. Despite how calm and quiet Ghost had been, it was clear his expectations were let down as well.

It was up the stairs next, the most nail-biting portion so far. Simon’s barrel eyed the landing, yours did the hall at the top. Someone was in the front room up here, that silhouette couldn’t have been a figment you both laid eyes on.

His boot nudged each door of the hall, as to prevent a stray bullet hitting something vital if he were to put his whole frame in the way of the arch. But there was nothing; not a sound. Doors left opened partially, but no sign of the figure you both saw outside.

“Stay on your toes.” Ghost whispers, his husk sending a chill up your spine for two different reasons. His gloved hand found the knob, a cringe-worthy squeak when the hinges moved. Your eyes stayed on your behind, down the stairs and the window in the hall, watching for something—any movement.

He crept inside, you walking backward and using only the sound of his steps to guide you when to step.

It was an office of some sort, meant to be the master bedroom of the quaint home. Instead of a bed, there was a mess piled on top of what once was a desk. Papers, jars of chemical substances, pliers, and tools alike—someone’s twisted version of arts and crafts.

Simon snapped his fingers, pointing towards the closet—the final hiding spot you were sure was empty. But the doors were shut, shut all the way, unlike all the other doors in this home. You silently crept ahead, one hand sliding open the pocket doors. You weren’t sure what to expect; opening the doors could trigger a trap or there really could be someone waiting for you.

But, it was empty; an empty closet, not a single hanger or box of clutter stored within it.

As suddenly as you felt it, there was the whizz of a silenced bullet. A sharp pain in your side, a force that knocked you to the ground of the bedroom, but there was no oozing blood from your chest—only a dreadful burn. Your vest had absorbed it, but the pain reminded you of the purple welt that would reside there if you got out of this obvious trap alive.

Simon knelt in front of the window, his rifle mounted against it as he watched for the source. “Stay down, Private!” They weren’t too deep in the hills, the shot came too quick and it was too straight. They could’ve been as close as the brush at the neighboring home.

Your gun had left your hands, and frankly, you weren’t sure your torso could bear the weight of it right this second. That’s when you spotted it—eyes glowing from under the table in the corner, blinking and making a slow movement out from under the shadows. A hand crept out, still maintaining eye contact. 

You found the thigh holster, grabbing your pistol. Whoever it was, they darted out from under the surface, about to ambush Ghost’s distracted state. There was no time to alert him verbally, and you couldn’t manage anything but pained groans right now.

It was pure instinct, how quickly you aimed and took your shot.

The man slumped against the chair in the corner, a smoking hole in his head. Simon turned, ears ringing and head screaming. You’d saved his life, a dangerously close shot you decided to take while writhing in pain. “Christ!” He bellowed, gun aimed at the lifeless hostile with a splatter of crimson behind his head.

Simon’s eyes widened, but there was no time for gratitude or shock. He somehow moved quicker than you on your sharpest day, finally taking a shot at the sniper that hit you. Ghost’s fingers found the button on the radio as quickly as they pulled the trigger—deadly timing.

“Two hostiles down; a sniper and an unknown.” He then bent down in front of you, handing you the gun that was sent flying when you hit the ground. A firm hand found your wrist, yanking you to your feet. 

No warm words, only a slightly softened look. There were more significant issues on his mind, reasonably so, considering you just saved his ass.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

—

You peered at your bare, battered chest as soon as you made it to the privacy of your temporary barrack. With a swab, you dabbed at the welt now formed, a nasty purple bruise surrounding it from the sheer speed and force of the sniper bullet.

You were lucky there was such low visibility that night, that the ambush wasn’t better calculated, otherwise you would’ve ended up with a bullet in your head too. It could’ve been much, much worse than it was, but that didn’t ease the wince in your face.

A bandage would do—one you slapped on with little care for how it looked. You had gotten out alive, as did Ghost, all your doing. It was as if the minute you returned to base, that irrational guilt gnawing at you returned, as did the thoughts.

But you needed to get out there and attempt to keep appearances. So you did, returning to the hall of the briefing room. Shadows and 141s alike, most in their own corners working or talking business for the following day.

You’d spotted his head of hair in the crowd, surrounded by a portion of the Shadows under his control.

“Can I speak to you, Commander?” You said, urging him to turn around and stop whatever smug pastime he was retelling for them. He was much too nonchalant, considering how unsuccessful and risky today was.

He turned and nodded, following you out to the hall willingly, though he gave his men a look that said he dreaded your presence. It was for the act—right?

You used to convince yourself that, but it was abundantly clear that something was wrong with him, the way he felt toward you today. He was… hardened and stern, more than he had ever been, even when you two weren’t fraternizing.

“Heard you took one today.” Graves patted your chest, a futile attempt to lighten your mood. Though, his hand smacking your chest only made you want to keel over and sob from how tender the spot was.

You weren’t ‘feeling the love’ or in any mood for his smugness right now. “Tell me about this op.” You cut off his sneer with an icy glare. “Not the bullshit you told us this morning, the truth. You and Shepard.”

Graves scoffed as if you had personally insulted his entire bloodline. “Excuse me?” Yes, it was his company. Yes, you were lower in the chain of command than him. No, it wasn’t his right to dangle his Shadows in front of danger like a meat to a hungry dog.

It was clear, or should’ve been, that this wasn’t your uniform speaking to him—it was you just as much. Before you spoke, you watched each side of the hall to ensure there weren’t listeners. “You’re… different, and I don’t like being in the dark.” His lies stuck out like a sore thumb, no matter how well he thought he was at hiding his true motivations.

Something was very wrong here, something even the 141 wasn’t privy to.

“You’re treading on thin ice right now, Shadow.” He tightened his lip into his signature pout, your words unable to budge him. There were no eavesdroppers, nor cameras in view, so why the hell was he talking to you like your boss? There had always been that line there—where and when he would drop the act. But he didn’t, and it made the figurative knife twist further.

“You nearly got us killed, Phillip. Tell me what the hell is going on!” You hissed, your voice emulating a hushed outcry concealed by gritted teeth.

His hands found the flesh of your shoulder, backing you against the wall behind you. “Following fucking orders, that’s all you need to know! Got it?” His fingertips dug into your flesh, tightening when his stare deepened.

The smack moments ago was nothing compared to this—this hold dared your knees to buckle beneath you. But you couldn’t, not with how hard you’d clenched your jaw. It was anger disguised by betrayal, the betrayal of him pulling rank on you. 

He had plans, that much was abundantly clear. If he was willing to grabble you here, how much danger were these plans going to land you in?

You tore his iron grip off your shoulder, holding the tender spot, “I don’t know who you are anymore, Commander.” If he was going to hide behind formalities, so would you.

He slammed the door to the briefing room, though it was muffled by the overlapping conversation he’d returned to.

You were baffled; he had backed you into a corner—literally and figuratively. You, the one he once desired so badly, until he pushed you aside like an afterthought.

Whatever this was, it was long dead.

TAGLIST: @redhoodxsupergirl @noasaltacc

[kiwianacraft]

I’m alive! I had already drawn up Pearl and Grian when Joel got announced as a new Hermitcraft member this morn, so had to add him to this lineup, I’m sure I’ll draw Skizz if I do another batch :)

Debuting bat hybrid Grian, after rewatching a bit of earlier seasons I realised he has a minimum of one cave themed base in nearly all of them (hobbit hole in 7, diagon ally in 8 and the rift in 9), plus I hadn’t really connected with any of the bird hybrids I’d tried rip. I also think bats have similarly uncanny, void-like eyes.

Donkey Joel/moth Pearl are a bit more conventional but no less fun to draw! I’d like to do animal/mob hybrids on all these designs, they’re a lot of fun and I think there’ll be some fun combos.

[seastarconstellation]

Draco Malfoy, the ultimate Diagon Ally according to JKR apparently?Happy Pride🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

[severussnapemylove]

For @add-a-bit-of-neurospice <3 Took some editing time to get the story line right. AU, Severus and reader are childhood friends turned sweethearts. Sev doesn't become a death eater and he and reader leave Hogwarts together after graduation. Reader's dirtbag father is being troublesome. Tried to kept the details pretty neutral for the individuality of the reader. Title is from "Not while I'm around" by Stephen Sondheim.

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Not While I'm Around

You and Severus had walked away from everything the day after graduation. You'd known each other since you were nine. Inseparable friends, first in Cokeworth, then Hogwarts. You were each other's confidant and protector, you told each other things no one else knew. And you both knew exactly why neither of you wanted to set foot in your childhood homes ever again. You'd found a cheap place to live and some work. And somewhere along the way of finding your own place in the world, you and Severus had realised how much you loved each other.

Unfortunately, walking out on your old life hadn't been as easy as you'd hoped. You didn't know how your father had found your new address. But seemingly out of nowhere he had. First it had been phone calls, which lead to you unplugging the phone from the wall. Then the letters. All of which you tore up and burned without reading. You didn't care what he had to say. It would just be the same manipulative, gaslighting spew it had always been. Your breaking point was when you'd gone to the shops one day and he'd found you there. Trying to push you into talking to him, saying that you couldn't just ignore family. You felt ice in your veins and sick to your stomach. Without a word, you pushed past him and almost ran home.

When you reached your flat, you shut the door hard and locked it before leaning your weight against the wood. The sound of the door slamming drew Severus's attention away from his writing and he hurried towards you, concerned at the state you were in. "Y/n? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" He asked, softly. His hands tracing your face and arms, checking for signs of harm. You collapsed against his chest, tears finally falling and he wrapped his arms around you, half holding you up as he lead you to the small couch. "What happened, Love? Tell me." You stayed curled up in his arms with your head against his chest while you cried and told him about your father cornering you in the store. He stayed quiet till you'd finished and kissed the top of your head, "It's alright, my love. You're safe now. I won't let him near you again. I promise. And we'll be leaving here soon, remember?" You started to smile a bit at the reminder. Severus had secured a job at the Apothecary in Diagon Ally, you were moving to London soon. Hopefully far enough to finally be free of your old life.

The two of you stayed cuddled up on the couch for a while longer, before a knocking at the door startled you both. Giving you a reassuring squeeze before getting up, Sev went to the door and checked through the peephole. As he suspected, it was your father. Sev looked back to you, "Wait there, I'll handle this." he said before opening the door and walking out, shutting it behind him and keeping your father hidden from your view.

The man looked at Severus with distain, "Who the hell are you? I'm looking for my kid." Severus fixed the man with an icy glare and said coldly, "I believe y/n has already made their opinion of you clear. Leave, now." "I'm their father, you can't keep me away." The man spluttered. "A poor excuse for one. Y/n does not want to see you. Now leave, before you find yourself turned into something unpleasant and washed down a storm drain." Knowing he didn't stand a chance against Severus's magic, your father had no choice but to relent and headed down the corridor. Still fuming but intimidated by Severus's cold black glare and the threat aimed his way.

Severus went back inside the flat, locking the door behind him and casting a protection seal on the lock just in case. His heart ached when he saw you, curled up in a ball on the couch with tears silently sliding down your face. He gently freed your arms from your folded up position and pulled you up into a tight hug, "I've got you. He's gone, he won't be getting near you. And we'll be far away from here soon." You pressed your face against the crook of his neck, feeling your stress slowly start to ebb away. You'd always felt safe with him, ever since you were a child. Things would work out right eventually, and as long as Severus was there, the ghosts of the past couldn't reach you again.

[poisonheartfrog]

Here's my piece for the Limited Life edition of @trafficzine, about Pearl, Big B, and Grian dying outside the border in the finale:

The rules of the game can’t be broken, but they can be bent. 

That’s what brings Pearl, Big B, and Grian to a barren hilltop in the middle of the night as Grian explains his trick for getting across the world border. 

Pearl is exhausted after their many trips up to, down from, and across Skynet, and she can tell her allies feel the same. They’re all covered in dirt, blood, and scrapes. Big B is restless, constantly checking over his shoulder and shifting his weight from foot to foot. Seeing him so nervous only makes the pit in her own stomach worse.

Grian is better at hiding his anxiety, but it’s still there in the ways his hands twitch as he sets down a dispenser.

She’s hanging a lot of hope on Grian being able to pull this off, that there really is a way beyond the border.

Pearl reaches her hand out towards the barrier in question. There’s no surface there, nothing to actually touch, except maybe a slight buzz of magical energy. She still feels air under her fingertips, but it’s as unyielding as a solid slab of stone. Diagonal bands of teal light inch along the border, casting eerie shadows across her hand.

Cleo’s blood is under her fingernails. She wants more.

The click of the dispenser going off snaps her attention back to Grian’s contraption. A dark oak boat sits on a puddle of water, split in half by the border. Grian climbs in and rows through like it’s nothing.

Pearl gasps. “That’s so cheaty. I love it.”

Big B laughs, a look of slight confusion on his face. “So wait, what?”

Pearl guesses it’s her turn now. 

She drops a boat in its condensed item form into the dispenser. She flicks the lever. Nothing happens. Did she already make a mistake? No, she flicks it again and the dispenser does its magic, conjuring a whole boat in front of her.

She lowers herself down into the boat and her left shoulder passes through the border without her even trying. She feels that slight current of energy again, a little stronger this time.

She pushes off the ground with one oar and pulls forward with the other, with the usual gracelessness of rowing a boat on dry land. The border is closer and closer and then with a shock of static electricity throughout her whole body, she’s on the other side.

Once out of her boat, she swings her axe down to break it back into an item. The diamond blade bounces off the wood without even leaving a mark.

Grian goes back to get Big B and the pair row through triumphantly.

Once they’re all on the other side, Grian lets them in on a wonderful secret. “Here’s the thing about being beyond the veil,” he says, “we’re already dead.” There’s a glint of mischief in his dark eyes.

Grian does always have a flair for the dramatic, but when he swings a sword at her to demonstrate, it hits her with about as much force as a feather. She attempts an axe swing back at him and then Big B. It similarly fails to connect. Her whole body feels a bit numb, now that she thinks about it.

Her time is still ticking away, but she feels like she can finally breathe instead of thinking how much she wants to rip someone’s throat out with her teeth.

As Grian demonstrates that they can still break blocks and damage mobs inside the border, she gives Big B a conspiratorial smile.

He grins back, his face lighting up under his war paint.

They’re here. They’re really here, where even her standing on this grass should be an impossibility.

Maybe being the last ones standing isn’t so impossible either.

Grian forges ahead. Pearl follows behind him, with Big B after her. 

Grian swerves too far from the border and winces like he’s been punched, despite there being nothing around. 

Pearl can’t blame him because she immediately makes the same mistake. There’s no way to know when you’ve gone too far, only the sudden phantom pain. Why would there be? They’ve already ignored the universe’s equivalent of a giant flashing sign that says “Don’t go here!”. If you die from going farther out, that’s just paying the price.

So Pearl hugs the border. She reaches her hand towards it and from this side her fingers pass through it as easily as if it really was just air.

She draws her hand back and slings her axe over her shoulder.

This might be one of the best ideas Grian has ever had.

It really does feel like cheating. The play is almost over and they’re sneaking around backstage instead of finishing their scene. It’s invigorating, the feeling of a trick well played, of breaking the world apart at the seams.

The trio keeps on walking. As they leave a spruce forest for a rocky plateau, Pearl watches two spiders climb the border, each of their eight legs waving as if they were swimming in mid air. There’s something almost hypnotic to the motion.

“We obviously can’t spend the next few hours here, but-” Grian breaks off in surprise when he sees the spiders.

“I don't know about you, but I could spend the next few hours here.” Pearl replies.

Grian laughs at the spiders and Big B lets out an uncertain “oh”. 

Grian runs ahead. Big B stays back with her. One hand grips the hilt of his sword.

His red eyes meet hers with a pained smile and he says “Well you know, Pearl, I can't- I can't.” 

She can’t acknowledge the seriousness in his voice because that would mean breaking the spell. Big B can’t be almost out of time. They can’t be anything other than safe here.

So she laughs and runs on ahead.

“That’s true.” She admits quietly.

A little while later Pearl and her allies reach the ocean. She dives in, now leading the charge ahead of Grian. Big B still hangs towards the back with very reasonable caution. 

Swimming in full plate armor is about as easy as rowing a boat on land, but Pearl makes do. She spots a school of tropical fish and kills one with her axe only for its body to drift out of reach in the current. 

It probably would have tasted terrible anyway.

She pops her head back above the surface. Behind all the bamboo and sugarcane, the Mean Gills’ base is deserted. The beach house has certainly seen better days. Half of the foundation is scarred and splintered from TNT blasts and the porch is littered with broken glass.

Scott and Martyn are probably still up on Skynet, which means their crops are free for the taking.

Stealing from them one more time can’t hurt, right?

Pearl tears wheat and carrots from the soil. Most of them go flying out of reach farther inside the border, but she manages to keep hold of a few.

The group briefly discusses where the Mean Gills might be and then all get a good laugh when Grian drops his loaf of bread in the ocean.

As they approach the corner of the world, Grian points towards the TIES base. “Scott’s clocked us.”

The Mean Gills and what’s left of TIES are spread out behind the squat base of the stone tower and its defaced bowtie. Etho sits on a horse, watching them from the path. Martyn and Impulse charge down the steps towards the beach while Scott cuts across the hill.

Pearl swims on ahead, watching as their enemies take position on top of dirt and stone eyesore of Etho’s mob farm. She can’t can’t wait to see the look on Scott’s face when he realizes they’re invincible.

Scott stands right at the edge and peers down at them, his bow in hand. His clothes are tattered and a bit singed. There’s grim determination in his eyes as he nocks an arrow and pulls back the bowstring.

“Hello!” Pearl smiles up at him as cheerfully as if they were meeting up for lunch rather than trying to kill each other. 

“Hi!” Scott fires. The arrow misses as Big B echoes her hello.

“How’s it going?” Pearl says, just as brightly.

Scott responds with another arrow.

It hits, piercing her armor and lodging just above her heart.

The pain is even worse because it’s unexpected. Grian was wrong. You can try to bend the rules as much as you want, but they will snap back into place like a rubber band. 

“Ow! What? They can get us!” She cries out.

They barely even had a plan, just a naive hope that they could hurt their enemies without getting hurt themselves.

The fight breaks out in earnest, arrows and shouts flying with abandon.

Pearl dives towards the seafloor and grabs fistfuls of the arrows that miss, barely noticing the ones that find purchase in her body.

“Oh no, I’m dead.” Big B says matter of factly.

Pearl lets out a horrified gasp as she sees his body dissolve into smoke.

Adrenaline propels her through the water. Scott and Impulse congratulate Martyn on his kill. If she could she’d strike them all down right then and there to avenge him.

But Scott and Impulse keep shooting at her and she has no way to fight back. She can barely pay attention to what’s going on through the pain.

Where did Etho go?

Where did Grian go?

If only she could just swim a little farther.

The seawater turns pink with her blood. The armor that failed to protect her is now dragging her towards the bottom. She tries to breathe but her lungs only fill with water and sand. 

In the dark seconds before respawn she reminds herself that she still has time.

Before the light comes pouring back in she remembers that Big B doesn’t.

[hp-abandonshipfest]

Abandon Ship Fest Masterlist

Ahoy there! Our voyage is now at an end, and we, the mods, are delighted to announce that we have 23 spectacular gen works for your perusal! Thank you to everyone who engaged, commented, reblogged, and followed along. Your support means so much and we are so grateful! Without further ado, here are our entries ⚓

Fine Print by nocturn Marietta's maxims for a life well-learned and well-lived.

Where the Heart is by silver_fish - a Podfic by @cailynwrites After the events at the Department of Mysteries in June—and all that came after—Harry finds himself once again stranded at Number Four Privet Drive. With only his own thoughts to keep him company, he takes to writing letters to the only person he thinks can help, if only he were still alive to do so.

Collected Correspondence by Artemisaki, jtimu Correspondence between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy regarding publication of novel findings in magizoology and wizarding space. 

Maybe this is enough by Patriceavril Scattered moments throughout a doomed friendship.

All The Whys To Map The Stars by @nogenrealldrama  Sometimes Astronomy feels like the least magical subject at Hogwarts. But while the influence of the planets can seem subtle, it’s also ever-present. This fic is a short narrative exploration of how Astronomy might affect magic in the Wizarding world.

Eat Your Death, Draco by @sillywives Draco's first dinner with the Death Eaters isn't what he expected.

The Ostentation by @lumosatnight, @nanneramma Lucius Malfoy: the boy, the man, the bird.

[ART] Never Been in Love by @okeydokeylackey Little piece of art/gif of Voldemort with an aro/ace flag 🧡💛🤍💙🖤

The Winds Forbid by @dodgerkedavra The third letter Petunia receives from Albus Dumbledore simply can’t be right.

The Sacred Blood We Spilled by @bunnieblair Her sisters were her ever-present companions in life. Their presence at her side firm and unyielding. Years of treasured girlhood, of never being alone. A lifetime spent fighting, learning and growing together.

Between Truth & Repose by @caitriona-3 Lily figures the assignment is as good a chance as any to ask her question - why are the three curses unforgivable?

Aniseed by @poljupci The Art of Identifying the Things which No Longer Serve You

These Dreams That Deepen Our Desires by Clueless Anxious Ghost of Hayhay (ShadowfoxFreyja) Narcissa finds herself in Azkaban, unwillingly dwelling on her past experiences.

The Diary of T.M. Riddle by @midnightstargazer On a visit to the Malfoys, fourteen-year-old Sirius insists on sneaking off to explore. What happens when he and Regulus find a blank diary hidden deep within the Malfoys’ library?

Ollivanders and Potter: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. by That_Dark_Forest_Witch The wand may be the one to do all the choosing, but wandmakers are needed to help the pairs find each other. The getting-ready-for-school rush in Diagon Ally is one of Harry's favourites now that the shop is his.

A Good Place (Believe Me) by SquibNation10 Five-year-old Harry's idyllic summer in Godric's Hollow takes a dramatic turn when he meets Tom, a troubled boy. Tragedy strikes: Harry's sister, Luna, is missing. Can Tom and Harry solve the mystery together?

The boy and the dogfather by HadrianPeverellBlack Trouble is very protective of the young boy.

The Secrets We Keep by sky_watcher_rose Minerva knows who the black cat with the brown eyes is, but she never says anything. After all, as she keeps telling herself, she has no proof.

Learning to Unlearn by @offthemap A Pansy Parkinson character study. Over the course of a year and a half, Pansy starts to become more open-minded about the world she lives in... though at first not on purpose. A series of vignettes.

My brothers, my boys, my twins by @lucigoo Percy was unintentionally parentified at a young age. Now, on his first birthday without Fred, he finds himself with George and Harry. Reminiscing about the boys he all but helped raised.

Missing Pages by @nightfalltwen Something isn't right with Monica Wilkins' life. It's like reading a book with the pages torn out and she doesn't know.

Unbreakable bonds by x_manga_Bleach_x Bill was Ginny's favourite brother. She'd never tell Ron though. He'd pout and sulk for days.

our house in the middle of our street by daniko A neglected orphan, a former and future spy, and a convicted felon take up residence in a grim old place.

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

Right now the thought of a Harry Potter and X men crossover has taken over my brain.

Imagine Harry standing in the bedroom with Ron and Hermione at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione's just told him that Dumbledore made them swear not to reveal anything meaningful to him over the summer holidays.

Harry's annoyance quickly turns into anger at the fact that the people he cares so much about were persuaded so easily by his Headmaster. His anger builds and the world goes grey. Everything freezes as if time itself has come to a screeching halt.

Harry's breaths turn shaky as he tries to understand what's going on. Right before his eyes, four misty paths appear. The first path shows him forgiving Ron and Hermione and staying in Grimmauld Place with Sirius. The second path has him visiting Gringotts and allying himself with the goblins. The third has him bumping into Hannah Abbott in Diagon Alley and turning his back on Wizarding Britain.

The fourth path intrigues him the most. Harry notices a mansion that reminds him of Hogwarts but he sees people using their powers openly and working as a team. Fuelled with the desire for change, Harry chooses that path.

The mist swirls around him and when he reopens his eyes, he's sitting in the mansion on a chair being observed by multiple pairs of worried eyes.

Harry's story spills out of him without much prompting and a man with metallic blue eyes finds himself drawing parallels between his life and the teen's. Harry watches him soften the tiniest amount when another person enters the room.

He learns that the man's name is Erik and the second you draw level with Erik, he wraps an arm around your waist and yanks you to his side, needing the comfort that your presence brings. You're quickly filled in, and Harry has the unshakeable feeling that you know more about Wizarding Britain than anyone else in the room.

Time passes. Raven is delighted to have a little brother who accepts her immediately because he knows how it feels to be isolated over something you can't control. Harry doesn't know how you manage it but somehow MACUSA finds out about the state of Wizarding Britain. Once MACUSA is involved, other wizarding places involve themselves and Wizarding Britain undergoes a massive overhaul and Voldemort is defeated before the first Wizarding War.

Harry learns to harness his gift and in doing so, saves many of his friends from those who want to harm them. Working alongside the other mutants, Harry feels protected for the first time in a long time. He's not treated like a child one minute and a saviour the next. Harry's never treated as a pariah.

He feels at home in Charles' mansion and occasionally, when he peeks out of a window that overlooks the grounds, he sees flashes of Wizarding Britain but then, he blinks or focuses on something closer to him and the images fade away.