#rosekiller is everything to me

[walkingtalkingfrog]

Evan and Barty flirting

[starchasing-chocolate]

5/5 😭❤️

[ecstarry]

@rosekillermicrofic / lips / 323 words / @fromagony

“Hey, baby doll,” Barty said as he rested his arm on the small wall of Evan’s cubicle. 

“I hate it when you call me that,” Evan quipped. His eyes not leaving his computer screen, hoping that if he ignored the office flirt he would be able to regain some composure. 

“Next time try not to blush and I’ll believe you.” Evan didn’t have to look at Barty to know that a grin was spreading across his face. 

“You’re an ass.”

“And you’re gorgeous.” Barty got closer and sat on Evan’s desk. “You look stressed.” Barty pouted at him. 

“I was fine before you started bothering me.” He couldn’t stop his gaze from traveling from Barty’s thighs next to him all the way to Barty’s lips. 

“I'll take it all, baby doll… Whatever's been weighin' you do-”

Evan interrupted with a loud laugh, “Are you using a fucking Dominc Fike song to flirt?”

Barty blushed, clearly caught off guard, but not backing down. “Is it working?”

Before Evan could answer, a text distracted him. It was Regulus, he wasn’t going to be able to give him a ride home that day.

“Fuck,” Evan muttered to himself. 

“What is it? Is the damsel in distress?”

Evan returned his eyes to Barty and saw the eagerness on the man to keep their game going. 

“My car is at the mechanic and Regulus can’t drive me home today, so I need to find a new ride home.”

At once, Barty jumped from the desk, placed Evan’s bag on his shoulder and extended his arm towards him. “Your chariot awaits.”

Evan laughed at the gesture, “You don’t even know where I live.”

“I’m HR, I actually do know.”

“That sounds creepy.” 

“Only for you,” Barty quickly added with a wink.  

Evan tried to conceal his excitement as he got in Barty’s car. 

“So is Dominic Fike okay, baby doll?”

“Just drive.” A small smile adorning Evan’s face.

[doomedtokill]

Evan is obsessed with Bartys hands, constantly holding them, tracing over his tattoos but his favourite is when they are around his throat

[walkingtalkingfrog]

This is literally The Stars Cried Requiem by starsmacabray

Rosekiller bring out the worst in each other but it’s okay because Pandora is usually there to bring out their best

[bri-cheeses]

Barty’s name. Woah. I just discovered something.

So, his full first name is Bartemius, obviously. You know where Joanne probably got that name? The Bible. NOW HOLD ON, don’t leave. This isn’t about to get religious, I’m just saying that this is how I found out about it.

Anyways, I’m fairly certain JKR took that name from a blind beggar named “Bartimaeus.” “Bar” means son in Hebrew, and so this name means “Son of Timaeus.” Timaeus means honorable in Greek, which is what the New Testament was written in. And now on to the actual meaning of Bartimaeus—I know you’re probably think, “oh, it means ‘son of the honorable’.” BUT IT DOESN’T.

Well, actually, it does, if you’re assuming that the “Timaeus” part came from a Greek word. But a lot of people say that Timaeus actually comes from another Hebrew word, which pretty much translates to “unclean” or “impure.” So Bartimaeus also means “son of the unclean.”

Now what I think is interesting about this is that it shows the duality of Barty Crouch Senior, who is seen as this really important person who’s honorable and extremely respected by pretty much the entirety of the wizarding world. But to anyone who sees his true colors, he’s horrible and a dirty/impure person (imperious curse on Barty Jr, the way he treated Winky, etc.).

So I just think it’s interesting that Barty’s name is a clue to what his father is actually like.

[katakosmos]

whats very critical to me is barty being this sheltered twitchy nerd with freak tendencies and terrible terrible evan looking at him like “hm i could fix this guy” and what he means is making irredeemably evil

i need a complete barty analysis from you, that would save me.

i love the idea of evan slowly corrupting barty with his silences and smiles, instead of the opposite. evan perfectly embodies the role of a high school bully from some wattpad story or netflix show: he kicks a pebble with his crocodile leather shoes, which hits barty's back, who turns around angrily. and barty's the silent boy who takes the insults and teasing in silence, without reacting, until one day evan goes to sleep and barty comes out of his closet and tries to slit his throat.

barty bursts into tears (yes, i read one of your last posts) and evan has a crazy thought, completely inappropriate to the situation.

that "i can fix him" = "barty, you don't have to hold back, if you want to kill me you can do it. please. you'll feel better. please"

[reggies-fake-horcrux]

Dorcas "hello, goodbye, was nice to know you. how I find myself without you, that I'll never know" Meadowes and Barty "Hello, goodbye, I'm rather crazy and i never thought I was crazy, but what do I know." Crouch Jr

[clodyghost]

hey! it’s cloudy ☁︎

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚⋆˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

☁︎ my friends call me clody :D

☁︎ my pronouns are she/they :)

☁︎ i am a lesbian!

☁︎ i’m a minor so no being weird pls!

☁︎ i’m Irish!

☁︎ my bday is march 8 :)

☁︎ i love the marauders, dead poets society, dead boy detectives, epic, arcane, pjo (and a few others)

☁︎ some music i like: boygenius, taylor swift, phoebe bridgers, noah kahan, hozier, conan gray, suki waterhouse, gracie abrams, chapell roan, girl in red, mitski <3

☁︎ i have an AO3: cloudy_moons where i have a few fics in the marauders/dbda fandoms!

☁︎ my fav ships are jegulus, rosekiller, wolfstar, payneland, anderperry, marylily, jily, chameron, dorlene, pandalily, moonwater, moonchaser

☁︎ sometimes i draw things!

☁︎ my letterboxd is here :) my pinterest is here :) my airbuds is here :) my spotify is here :)

☁︎ posts with #☁️ chatters are fun lil posts where i ramble or rant about things!

☁︎ #…. clody is stupid is where i vent or post things related to my atrocious mental health

☁︎ i have adhd :p

☁︎ dni: the usual! no transphobes homophobes racists or weirdos

☁︎ please don’t send asks for donations i am a minor and do not have any money to give!

☁︎ i <3 my moots with my whole heart i’m too tired to tag you all but i genuinely care about you all so much!

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚⋆˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

i’m always up for a chat! dont be afraid to say hi!!

im a biiiig james kinnie and have no time management skills so i’m him in a few rps!

@antlers4brains

@james-fp

@j-potteringaround

@potters-and-pans

@potter-but-not-pottery

@prongs-fpotter

don’t like dont interact pls :)

[starsarestories]

Happy Birthday to Barty Crouch Jr from AATT. Go find Evan, and go out of this year with a bang 😉🎉🎉

[itsjaywalkers]

for the prompt game: ROSEKILLER 57 WITH BOXER AU IVE BEEN WAITING MY WHOLE LIFE FOR THIS MOMENT……….. (also i hope you’re having a fun day off laurie hi hi 🥺🤍)

HI HI SAINTS BELOVED <333 i actually didn't get the day off bc i'm an idiot and i couldn't say no when my coworker asked me to change shifts.. but at least i got home before 10pm which . is unusual for me lmao . and today's shift was actually kinda fun so !!

anyways, hope you're having a lovely day and that u enjoy this silly lil thing <3 first peek into boxer au rosekiller <3 (i went a bit overboard but they've been plaguing my mind and u don't deserve less)

57. "Teach me to fight."

It's been more than half an hour of hitting the punching bag nonstop when Barty finally decides to take a break. It's not even because he's actually tired, despite the sweat he can already feel dripping down his back and his face. It's because his bad shoulder—the right one—dislocated during the last combination he tried, and after Barty puts it back in place, he's gotta wait a little bit before going back to training.

This happens way too often for comfort, but it's not really painful anymore—it never really was, or maybe Barty has simply dealt with much worse. Besides, the longer he ignores it, the more serious it'll get, which means he'll have an excuse to go get another check-up.

His manager already warned him when he first got the injury after that stupid fight with stupid Potter. Barty began to grow restless during recovery time, and then decided his shoulder was fine when it stopped hurting.

Obviously, he was wrong. Except, it only dislocates when he goes too hard, and he's learnt how to put it back in place without issue, so really, technically, he was sort of right. What does his manager know, anyway? As long as Barty continues winning and putting money in that fucker's pocket, there shouldn't be any complaints.

He pulls up his tank top and dries off some of the sweat on his neck and the side of his face, while rolling his shoulder gently, testing the waters before he goes back to punching, when the hairs at his nape begin to stand up.

There's no noise, no sudden sounds. Barty doesn't hear the door opening, or closing, and yet, when he turns around, smirk already pulling at his lips, he isn't surprised to find someone standing right behind him.

"Hey, Rosie," he greets the other man, who blinks at him, completely deadpan. "I didn't know you were still around. Long shift today?"

"Yes, you did," Evan responds, that cool tone of his sending a pleasing chill down Barty's spine. "Know, that is. I'm pretty sure you've got my schedule memorised."

Barty takes a few moments to drop the hem of his shirt, because he notices the way in which Evan's gaze drops to his stomach and stays there for a handful of seconds. His expression doesn't change, there isn't even a flicker of something in his face, but the attention is more than enough for him.

"Well, you left your email open and your laptop in my near vicinity." Barty shrugs, eyes running up and down Evan's body. He's still wearing that sexy white coat of his, the shirt underneath it perfectly buttoned and tucked inside his jeans.

There's barely any skin showing, because Evan is a little weirdo, but there's some ankle peeking, since the pants are ridiculously tight on him and the legs keep riding up slightly.

Honestly, it's like he's doing it on purpose. Barty can't be blamed if he ends up hard under his sweats. He can already feel some blood rushing south just at the sight of that tiny sliver of soft brown skin.

"And you downloaded my rotas?" Evan guesses, tilting his head to the side.

"Nah," Barty says, crossing his arms over his chest, flexing a little. "Didn't have to. I've got a damn good memory. I read over them for a couple of minutes until they stuck."

Evan nods, not fazed in the slightest.

"That's why you only come in when I'm on shift," Evan states, and it's not a question. He doesn't seem surprised, or freaked out, but then again, he barely shows any emotions. Apart from irritation, that is, and that one's reserved for when Barty is being especially pushy. Or especially horny.

"I don't think I've ever seen any of the other nurses a single time in my life," Barty tells him with a chuckle.

"You have," Evan retorts, and his eyes narrow the tiniest bit. Barty feels a pull in his stomach. "You were talking to Betty three weeks ago, after your match against Black. The bad one. You let her check your shoulder."

Barty lets out an incredulous laugh, not sure on where to focus first, going dizzy with how badly he wants this freak of a man.

He's obsessed with the way in which Evan always seems to get the urge to clarify which Black he's talking about, as if it's not obvious, considering only one of them fights. How he's always so precise, never allowing any ambiguity into his sentences. How almost nothing seems to hold his focus apart from his experiments and medicine and his patients' injuries, and yet, here he is, remembering when Barty talked to someone else momentarily.

"Did I?" Barty asks innocently, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his shit-eating grin at bay.

"Yes," Evan responds, a little furrow appearing between his eyebrows. "She was touching you."

"Was she?" The corners of Barty's mouth are twitching so much he's sure he must look like an absolute maniac.

"Yes," Evan repeats, some exasperation slipping into his voice. "She wasn't even doing it right. She kept kneading the muscle in the same place, instead of checking the ligament, and she did this for more than five minutes, even though it takes seconds to find out about a dislocation—"

"Rosie," Barty cuts him off gently, watching, with no little amount of delight, how Evan's frown worsens. "I didn't even know her fucking name. I couldn't give less of a fuck about stupid Betty, or whatever the hell she's called."

Evan blinks slowly. "But you—"

"I was tired and sore after that match, my shoulder was bothering me, and she was there. My manager told her to check my shoulder, just in case I had fucked it up beyond solution, but if I had known you were around she wouldn't have laid a single finger on me."

There's a beat of silence, Evan's dead eyes searching all over Barty's face, assessing and determined. He smirks at him, which results in Evan huffing and looking away.

"Don't do it again," it's what he ends up mumbling, and if Barty didn't know any better, he'd dare to say Evan is close to pouting. "You're my patient."

Barty raises both eyebrows, a deranged smile splitting his face while he perks up like a goddamn dog. "Is that jealousy I'm hearing, Rosie?"

"No," Evan drawls, straightening up. "It's just the truth. You're not my only patient, you know? But if you're getting treated by me, then you're not allowed to see any other nurses."

"Damn, way to make a man feel special," Barty scoffs, but he does actually kind of mean it. Which he's aware might be a bit pathetic, but, well, he'll be whatever the fuck Evan wants him to. "Wasn't interested in seeing any other nurses, anyway."

"Good." Evan nods, almost to himself, and Barty has to make an active effort not to coo. "Are you done training?"

Barty blinks a couple of times, slightly taken aback, both by the sudden change of topic and by Evan entertaining conversation. Normally, talking to the other boy feels like pulling teeth—oh, man, Rosie would fucking love this comparison—which Barty doesn't mind because he finds it incredibly fun. Unless Evan is going on one of his medical rants, and yeah, Barty shouldn't find it as attractive as he does, but it's not like he's ever worked like he's supposed to.

But this? This is new.

"Not really," Barty answers, still feeling off-kilter. He shakes his head, forcibly pulling himself out of his mind. "Why? You wanna join me, Rosie?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

Barty snorts, assuming that it's a joke, even though he's more than aware that Evan doesn't do jokes, because his humour is way too dark, and rarely finds funny what others do. But Evan's expression doesn't change, and Barty nearly chokes on his own spit.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've never been interested in boxing," Barty points out.

"That's a lie. I watch every match," Evan argues, lips pursed.

"Because you're job kind of forces you to."

"Also a lie. I need to be there when I'm on shift, in case they call for me, but I'm not required to actually watch."

"Yeah, but you still do, because your pretty little morbid head goes absolutely feral at the prospect of seeing some blood."

Evan scrunches his nose, as if disgusted.

"You're wrong," Evan lies, expression giving absolutely nothing away. Really, if Barty didn't already know the truth, he'd be inclined to believe him. "It's got nothing to do with that. I like boxing."

Barty huffs, the noise filled with amusement. "Sure you do, Rosie."

"I really do," Evan insists, always so ridiculously stubborn.

"I don't know who you're trying to convince, but—"

"Teach me to fight."

Barty sputters, brows almost reaching his hairline, and he gapes at Evan, who's still staring at him. He seems unaffacted by Barty's dramatics, but then again, he's unaffected by almost everything.

"The fuck?" he manages to spit out at some point.

"Teach me to fight," Evan says again, a lot slower, as if Barty is some kind of idiot. God, he wans to fucking devour him.

Barty isn't sure of what's going on right now. Evan barely interacts with him outside of their appointments, it's always him reaching out, so he doesn't understand what prompted this. What Evan is hoping to achieve.

"Why?"

"I told you, I like boxing."

"Yeah, okay. And the real reason?"

Evan's tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, and it's so, so hard for Barty, not to make a very inappropriate joke.

"I'm testing something," he admits, albeit bedgrugingly.

"Ah, so you want me to be your guinea pig," Barty sighs a bit dreamily. "That sounds more like it."

"Sure," Evan agrees with unsurprising ease. "Will you?"

"All you had to do was ask, Rosie."

They get to work right after that. Barty doesn't even bother with suggesting a change of clothes, because he's aware of how well that'd be received. The fact that Evan chooses to take the white coat off is already more than Barty expected.

He tries to show him how to stand, how to do a basic punch. Evan knows most of the basic theory, mostly due to how often he deals with boxing injuries, but he's absolutely helpless when he has to act it out himself.

It doesn't matter how often Barty corrects him; he keeps slouching, stance all wonky. He lacks strength, and he takes a bit too long to protect his face after doing a jab.

The main issue, though, is his obvious lack of interest.

Evan seems to be distracted by something, too inside his own head, and when Barty is about to point this out, poke some fun at him in hopes of getting Evan to snap, the other man speaks again.

"That's enough," he declares, tone leaving no place for argument. "Let's spar."

Barty chuckles, disbelieving, but then Evan is sending a glare his way, and he raises both hands in mock surrender, giving in immediately.

He'll do pretty much whatever the fuck Evan wants him to, really.

They both get into position, and regardless of how much Barty is holding back, trying to give the other man a chance, is actually kind of laughable, how easily he overcomes him.

One moment they're exchanging soft blows, and the next Barty has Evan pinned to the floor, his legs and arms completely immobilised as Barty grins maniacally from above.

"Happy now, Rosie?" he teases.

Evan presses his mouth in a tight line. "Not quite."

"Oh, really? Because I'm starting to think this was all a ruse to get me on top of you."

Evan rolls his eyes so hard Barty worries they might get stuck inside his skull. "I'm afraid that's more your style. And anyway, I don't think it's wise to understimate your opponent like this."

"It's nothing personal, Rosie, but when victory is already mine, I—"

Barty never gets to finish. Evan raises his head so quickly his brain barely registers it, and then he's sinking his teeth hard where Barty's neck meets his shoulder. Until he breaks skin, until he draws blood, until Barty lets out a pained groan and his body goes slack, more in surprise than actual hurt.

A moment later, their positions are reversed. Evan is straddling him, mouth still attached to his skin, and Barty is lying on the cold ground, dizzy and a little bit breathless.

He doesn't know how long they stay like this—definitely not enough—but after a while, Evan lets go and sits up a little, lips stained red. It's dripping down his chin, and when he parts his mouth a little, panting softly, Barty finds out that his teeth are also crimson with blood. With his blood.

Barty groans again.

"You're hard," Evan comments, painfully nonchalant. It's that same casualness he used the first time Barty had an erection during an appointment, after Evan had pulled at the stitches on his leg and stuck his fingers inside Barty's wound.

"Yeah," he breathes out, half-delirious. "Yeah, no shit."

Evan hums, cocking his head to the side, analytical gaze running up and down Barty's body and making him twitch in his pants. The fact that Evan can feel it right under him, between his legs, forces Barty to swallow down a moan.

Barty is about to say something incredibly stupid to maybe, hopefully, alleviate the tension, when Evan leans down once more; this time, slower, more careful.

He's prepared to feel the sting of a bite again, toes curling in excitement, but it never comes. Instead, there's something wet and tentative and soft lapping at the open wound, gathering all the blood there that is still coming out.

It takes Barty a moment to realise it's Evan's tongue.

The knowledge hits Barty like a motherfucking bus. He can't stop a low moan from coming out now, or his hips from thrusting up, searching for something, anything, that Evan might give him.

Surprisingly, and instead of pulling away, the other man makes an odd noise against his skin, and Barty thinks he's imagining it when Evan presses down on him.

He freezes up after that, but only for a second, Evan's licking never stopping. But then Barty moves again, more purposefully, rubbing his erection against the apex of Evan's thighs.

The response is immediate, although definitely unconscious. Evan grinds back experimentally, with no coordination or finesse, dropping another sound into Barty's bleeding wound.

His eyes widen when his brain finally catches up properly, hands coming up to grab at Evan's hips and halt his movements.

"Rosie, are you..." Barty stops, swallows harshly. "Are you turned on right now?"

Evan laps at the blood a few more times before straightening up again, staring down at Barty with unblinking eyes and red all over his face.

"Fuck, are you—?" A laugh, strained and bordering on hysterical. "Are you wet?" He doesn't even need to check to know the answer.

Evans nods, almost imperceptibly. "Apparently so."

He has half a mind to turn them over and fuck Evan into the floor. Until Evan is a whimpering mess. Until he's crying, begging, unable to do anything but fucking take it. Until he's sore, and hurt, and full, but still asking for more. Until he can't say anything else apart from Barty's name, until he's—

"Bloody hell," Barty whispers, shutting his eyes tight and letting out another cackle.

Oh, he's going to die. He's absolutely going to fucking die.

[serenisastar]

All I think about recently are fictional gay men

[youvereachedrab]

Excerpt from a Fic I wrote 🎀

Evan: "And I get it, we’re friends-"

Barty: “Best friends,”

Evan: “Yes, exactly, but that's why is this going to be so much worse. Because even though I hate dating and all the bullshit that comes with it, I don't think I'd hate it if it was you. Except it's unfair that I'm even telling you all this because you’re my best friend-

Reg, chewing on honey roasted cashews Effie sent him: “Thanks a-fucking-lot, Rosier. Almost fifteen years of my life and for what. Am I chopped liver?”

Reg: “What? Stop gaping at me and let me enjoy Effie’s early birthday gift,” *waves at them in a ‘carry on’ motion,* “as you were children. I haven't got all day. James wants me to watch the match with him later.”

Evan: “And I don’t want you to feel like I can't just be your friend, because I can. It wont kill me or anything but it's going to fucking suck. Unless you end up freaking the fuck out and ghosting me. Then I might consider permanent sleep.”

Reg: “He’s kidding Bats, he would never kill himself as long as you were there,”

“What now? I've been waiting for this since I woke up from the nap on the Astronomy tower and you,” *points at Evan* “were muttering about his," *points to Barty* "hair. Let a guy have some pay off after all that terrible build up.”

Evan: “I wont even get into you right now Reg,”

Reg: “Yes, get into him instead,” *points at Barty again* .“Oh shit, that joke doesn't work with you. Fuck you and your broken dick Ev. Or actually, I guess not. Sorry, no more fucking, this is a safe space.”

Barty: “Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight-,”

Reg: “It isnt, but do continue. Don't let me hinder your great anagnorisis,”

Barty: “Right Reg, shut up for a second and eat the food your mother-in-law gave you,” *to Evan* “now you. Are you telling me that your panties were in a twist because you really were jealous? ”

Evan: “That’s the general idea,”

Barty: “So like, what now?”

Reg: “You kiss, obviously. Have neither of you ever read a book?”

[terymlxyrstdus]

Barty and Evan’s is the kind of flirting when they would flirt shamelessly and then one of them would kill it with "yeah bro" or "sure friend" because they’re just friends no flirting happening here (they want to rip off eachothers clothes)

[sixlane]

tricks up sleeves and all that

rosekiller microfic | 1,180 words | magician Barty, single dad Evan

The first thing Evan thought when his daughter told him she wanted a magician at her birthday party was how did I raise a child who enjoys close-up magic? It wouldn’t have been his first choice, probably wouldn’t have even been his last. He would’ve gone with something classier, more elegant, like a tea party or a day at the museum. Something to live up to the extravagance of previous years. Sure, Eleanor is only seven but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy the finer things. 

So, in between meetings and phone calls, Evan researched children’s birthday party magicians, and as you’d expect, not much was living up to his standards. After days of sifting through resumes and background checks, he was eventually able to find a well-designed website with good reviews and speak to a representative who promised to send their best.

This is why Evan is so confused when he opens his front door to find a tall, lanky man in ripped jeans and a worn out t-shirt, his look complete with ruffled hair, an eyebrow piercing, and excessive amounts of tattoos. 

“You must have the wrong house,” Evan says. He thinks he should probably close the door but something about this man is intriguing. He wants to look for just a second longer.

The man leans back to check the address beside the door. “You’re Mr. Rosier, right? I’m here for the birthday party. I’m Barty, the magician.” 

Evan raises a brow. “You don’t look like a magician.”

“Were you expecting a full tuxedo? It’s like 95 degrees out.” A tilted grin spreads over his face, showing off a pointy canine. “Here let me show you.” Before Evan can back away, Barty is reaching behind his ear and producing a shiny quarter, flipping it between his fingers confidently. “Ta da.”

“That’s hardly magic,” Evan says, crossing his arms. He better get a full refund if this is the best they had.

“No, you’re right. That’s just the decoy.” He raises his left hand, and between his thumb and pointer finger he holds Evan’s watch, which had previously been secured to his wrist.

Evan’s mouth drops open slightly. He hadn’t even felt it. “That’s not magic either, that is literally stealing.” He snatches the watch back, putting it on.

“It’s the art of misdirection,” Barty explains. “I do a dumb coin trick, and while you’re paying attention to that, I do something more impressive. It’s like, the basis of all magic.”

Evan doesn’t even know what to say. This man has just pickpocketed him on his own front porch and now he wants Evan to let him into his house? 

At the same time Evan is getting ready to slam the door in Barty’s face, Eleanor appears at his hip, smile wider than a mile across her face.

“Is this the magician, Dad?” she asks, tugging at his shirt while she bounces up and down.

“You must be Eleanor,” Barty says, squatting down so they’re at eye level. He’s performing now, Evan can tell. He lights up and his smugness from before is washed away. “Would you like to pick a card?” 

Eleanor nods enthusiastically.

Barty pulls a deck out of his back pocket and starts shuffling. Evan watches the way his fingers move deftly around the cards. Bending and flipping them expertly before fanning them out in front of her.

“Okay, go ahead. But don’t tell me what your card is, just show it to your dad and put it back anywhere in the deck.”

Eleanor does as instructed and shows Evan the card, ace of hearts, before sliding it back in.

“Thanks Eleanor, that’s great.” He starts shuffling the cards again, adding in flourishes here and there. Evan watches intently, trying to track his every move, see where he might be switching cards out or taking a peek, but he moves too quickly for Evan to stay on top of everything. “Now Ellie, can I call you Ellie?” Eleanor giggles and nods her head. “Your dad here,” he tilts his head up at Evan, “has already seen me do a trick similar to this, but I think I can put a new spin on it, what do you say?” 

Eleanor looks up at Evan, affronted. “Dad! You’ve been playing with the magician without me?”

Evan hears Barty try to stifle a laugh and feels the beginning of a tension headache spreading behind his eyes. “I was just making sure he was up to our standards,” he grits out.

“Don’t worry Ellie, your dad was just doing his due diligence.” Eleanor looks appeased and waves her hand in a motion that tells Barty to continue. He does one last shuffle and then reaches behind Eleanor’s ear. When he pulls back, he has the ace of spades in between his pointer and middle fingers. “So Ellie, was this your card?” 

She looks confused and a little disappointed. Evan holds himself back from kicking Barty directly in the face. “Um… close,” she says. “Mine had hearts on it.”

Barty looks at the card. “Huh. You know, sometimes the cards don’t always do what we want them to so we have to shake some sense into them. He starts waving the card quickly back and forth. When it comes to a stop, Barty holds the ace of hearts where the ace of spades had previously been. He smiles in triumph. Evan still kind of wants to kick him in the face.

Eleanor lets out an excited squeal and rushes forward to tackle Barty into a hug. “Can we keep him, Dad?” she screams directly in Barty’s ear. He doesn’t even flinch.

Evan lets out a resigned sigh. He’s really never been able to deny Eleanor anything, so he steps to the side, opening the door wider, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “Of course Eleanor. Go gather your friends in the living room. Barty will be right in.” He places a hand on her head as she runs by.

Barty stands up and straightens his pants out, sliding the deck back into his pocket. “Good enough?” he asks, shrugging a shoulder.

Evan scrutinizes him for a second, running his eyes over every inch of the man. The line of his cheekbone, the curve of his neck, the way his thumb rubs a circle into the side of his pointer finger. There’s something about him. Evan hasn’t heard Eleanor scream that loud since Pandora got her a bug collection kit for Christmas last year. 

“I want you to know that I keep a detailed inventory of everything in my home, so if you steal something I will find out, and you won't be happy about the consequences.”

Barty smiles, something mischievous glinting in his eye. “We’ll see about that,” he says brushing past Evan to make his way into the living room. Evan closes the door behind him. Right before Barty turns the corner, he throws something over his shoulder. Without thinking, Evan catches it. His wallet. With the ace of hearts sticking mockingly out of the top.

[bri-cheeses]

Tinkerer Rosier twins, who have an invention of their own for every small little thing. There are little machines whirring in a room in the Rosier manor, and odd bangs and flashes of light come from it periodically. At Hogwarts there’s a classroom given to them for usage by a benevolent professor, and both Pandora and Evan disappear to go to it periodically. Simply knocking on the door doesn’t work, instead, you’re forced to open the door and face their wrath if you accidentally break something. In the dorms, Evan’s bedside table is overflowing with sketches of potential machine ideas, while Pandora’s holds stacks of books about various charms, potions, and notes on how she can integrate them into their inventions. Barty can hardly get Evan’s attention when he’s lost in making a new sketch; Lily sometimes has to affectionally flick Pandora on the nose if she wants her to even look up from the charms book she’s engrossed in. Evan and Pandora’s hands are littered with small scars, especially Evan’s because he loves to tinker with the inventions that have gone wrong. Pandora has ended up with broken bones and purple hair and all sorts of weird magical things due to the occasional backfiring of her charms, but these setbacks never stop them. They receive gears and gadgets as presents for their birthday, they both have pairs of thick glasses that comically magnify their eyes, they’re mad geniuses who run about the castle doing whatever they want. Pureblooded Slytherins side-eye them for messing about with Muggle technology and they get the label of being “odd” and “slightly unhinged,” but they don’t care, and neither do their friends. They just keep on tinkering away, and not a single one of their friends begrudges them for it, because someday one of their inventions is probably going to save the world. Not to mention that Barty and Lily both find it so endearing and love seeing what they’re currently working on, and they’re sometimes even able to help out with a snag in the twins’ logic and make inventions even better.

All in all, I am thinking so many thoughts about this and I want to hear your guys’s opinion.

So: tinkerer Pandora and Evan, what do we think?