#Ron specs

[spextkrr]

help

[blackthornwren]

About "Twin Flames"

If you scroll through the witchcraft, tarot, or divination tags with any sort of regularity, you are bound to come across the mention of Twin Flames - and you may be thinking, “oh, this is just another flaky term for soulmates”. You’re partially right, but it’s also a cult. The Harmonious Twin Flames Universe is a cult that was created by Jeff Divine (formerly known at one point as Ender Ayanethos) and his wife, Shaleia.

Much like Scientology, HTFU aims to take your money by exploiting your weaknesses - specifically, a desire to love and be loved by a soulmate. HTFU relies on similar cult models as L. Ron Hubbard’s Scientology and Keith Raniere’s NXIVM; combining new age concepts with religious belief, as well as multi-level marketing and wellness. Twin Flames recruiters often use YouTube or other social media platforms, offering divination readings using numerology, tarot, angel numbers, etc., to essentially cold read a new recruit and get them interested in the HTFU.

One of the main features in the HTFU is the use of the “mirror exercise” which aims to take any event that left the participant feeling sad or unhappy and re-frame it in a way that places the blame directly on them. It is specifically designed to adjust someone’s thoughts and keep them within the cult, and rapidly becoming more dependent upon it.

How:

By offering courses for “ascension” and instruction on how to “clear blockages”. Participants pay for these classes and begin a cycle of instruction which frames every bad thing in their life as being their fault; and that they must continue to pay for further teachings to remove these spiritual blockages which prevent them from ascending to their more divine self - which will make them deserving of their own perfect Twin Flame.

Additionally, because the HTFU demographic is a majority of women, former members of the cult have stated that the leaders and the readers will attempt to even out this imbalance by informing cishet women that they are actually the embodiment of the divine masculine in their Twin Flame relationship. The gaslighting is real, y’all.

Former members have cited abusive behavior amongst the leaders and inner circle members; this information can be found in books, podcasts, news articles, and documentaries that have been created about the HTFU over the last few years. The point of the cult is to create a vicious cycle of emotional abuse that keeps its victims dependent on expensive classes that give nonsense answers and shift blame back onto the victim, which then keeps them coming back for more.

Why it’s Important:

Current spiritual and witchcraft communities can use similar language - a repetition of jargon and buzzwords that shut down critical thinking. No, witchcraft as it currently stands, does not have a specific cult that I can tell you to watch out for; but it is important to familiarize yourself with the language so that you know what to look for. Influencers can be dangerous; people who put themselves in a position of authority, promising things such as:

-Online attunements, alignments, or initiations. You know how reiki has attunements and you have to pay for them in order to level up your reiki skills? Yeah. That’s because reiki is a holdover from a cult too. The internet has made it so much easier to work these kinds of grifts as well - because everything can be done online, over zoom or a voice call; and well, sometimes it “doesn’t take” and you have to get the ritual done again…for a fee, of course. But hey, maybe you’ll get a discount if the first one didn’t work!

-Things that build dependence such as the promise of exclusive mentoring, healing sessions, guidance and ritual. In and of themselves these are not necessarily a red flag, but it’s how the person behaves, how they attempt to steer a customer’s mind that makes the difference. Do they try to keep you coming back for more? Do they tell you that you are under some kind of attack? Do they make you feel special or chosen?

-Perpetuating an Us versus Them mentality that is both hostile and isolating. A charismatic leader will also portray themselves as a victim of unfair persecution; and with this they look to get you on their side, make you isolate yourself going to extreme lengths to defend and protect them - after all, you may be “the only one they can trust”.

There can also be specific focuses on things like the law of attraction, spiritual hygiene, and paid-for purification rituals to clear your miasma or put you in tune with your higher self/guardian angel/guiding spirits/etc. These practices can be extremely exploitative; not just taking a customer’s money, but also creating a mentality of blame - if things are still going wrong, they feel as though they haven’t been purified enough or they’re not “clean enough” to reach their guardian angel/attunement/higher self/whatever. Additionally, the fear of things like spiritual or psychic attacks, psychic vampirism, or spiritual parasites cultivates this feeling of dependence upon a person who appears to be wise and powerful that can “save” or "protect" the victim.

The capitalism and the consumerism of the current witchcraft community is literally setting us up for a cult. The substantial increase in influencers working to monetize their craft by selling expensive services and classes is already a very good entry point for someone who wants to take things further and create a very dependent, very parasocial, very exploitative relationship with a group of loyal followers.

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic feb 12 - fireside - 1k words

aka teenager!Harry and jeggy dads comforting him

Regulus startles awake at the sound of the front door and blinks his eyes open to Harry standing before it, shoulders tense and a deep crease between his brows. He slips into a little more sheepish expression when he realises he’s just woken Regulus up.

James is still snoring lightly next to him, one arm thrown over his head and shirt rucked up to expose the wide happy trail over his belly.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, visibly gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he kicks off his converse.

“That’s okay,” Regulus responds, voice raspy from residual sleep, and he watches Harry stiffly hang his jacket and then just stare back at their front door like it personally offended him.

Regulus sniffs and detangles himself from James’ big, heavy arm half thrown around his shoulders to get up. Harry only swivels his head once Regulus comes up right behind him, plush slippers shuffling against the hardwood floor.

The hard line looks even deeper up close and Regulus’ heart clenches with it as Harry looks up at him with a stormy kind of torment in his beautiful, big eyes. He clasps his son’s neck with a palm and tugs him into motion, nodding down the hall. 

“Kitchen,” he decides and Harry nods, letting himself be guided into the adjacent room.

Regulus seats him on one of the stools at the kitchen island and tugs a few scratch cards from the mail on the counter in front of him. Harry pulls his wallet out of his jeans’ back pocket, letting it slap down on the tabletop before grabbing it again and rummaging for a fitting coin as Regulus goes to grab two mugs for them. 

He grabs Harry’s favourite—a birthday present from Ron and Hermoine engraved with a bunch of pictures of them, the handle and inside dark red—and then the curvy white one with a cat wearing sunglasses sketch art for himself. Regulus pours milk and pops them into the microwave.

When he turns Harry is furiously rubbing away on the sweepstakes, already through his third and bouncing his knee restlessly in his seat.

Regulus lets him do as he needs, watching him as he waits for the microwave to ping. He grabs the honey from the shelf, fishes for a spoon in the cutlery drawer and assembles their hot beverage once the mugs are ready to be taken out.

The spoon is clinking against the ceramic as Regulus mixes in the viscous sugar and when he turns to join his son, Harry is already standing in front of him, expression troubled, still.

His back to the kitchen light Regulus can see Harry’s eyes glassy behind his specs so he puts the mugs down on the counter again and opens his arms for Harry to step into.

His son goes immediately, slumping forward and wrapping his arms loosely around his back, forehead coming down on the top of Regulus’ shoulder with a heavy sigh. Regulus cups the back of his head, fingers scratching soothingly and the other hand driving long strokes up and down his back. His hoodie smells smoky, his hair too—he must have been at the fireside with his friends again.

“Bad evening?” Regulus mumbles into the black bird’s nest of his son’s hair.

Harry ruts his forehead against him in a nod, grunting an affirmative.

Regulus sighs, “I’m sorry about that, bug.”

There’s a sniffle, more nodding and Regulus suspects Harry is carefully choosing not to use his voice again lest it breaks.

“Want to tell me about it?”

Harry lifts his head and Regulus’ hands go to cup his cheeks. “Maybe later,” he answers with a shrug, eyes averted.

“Of course,” Regulus nods, swiping his thumbs over Harry’s temples.

“It’s just–” he breaks off with a huff and Regulus ducks his head to catch his gaze.

“Just…?”

Harry takes a deep breath, “There’s someone.” He scrunches his nose so hard is dislodges his glasses, “They’re fucking infuriating, honestly.”

“Okay,” Regulus nods. He lightly narrows his eyes, “In a feelings kind of way?”

Harry groans bitterly at that, head tipping back and eyes clamping shut. “I hate being a teenager.”

The corners of his lips tug but Regulus reigns it in quickly enough before Harry sees. He rakes his fingers through his son’s hair instead and pulls him into a fierce forehead kiss.

Harry sighs explosively and simply returns back to the embrace just when James, expression sleep bleary and hair somehow more awful than their sons, shuffles into the kitchen, scratching through the hair on his stomach. They exchange a quick glance once James blinks the situation into consciousness, noticing the violated scratch cards and probably the smell of sweetened milk in the air as well.

“I love you, baby,” Regulus mumbles in a remindful tone, arms squeezing around their son.

Harry’s hair tickles Regulus’ nose when he nods. “I know.”

James drapes himself over Harry’s back, his hands sliding along Regulus waist and down until he can comfortably hook his thumbs into the waistband of Regulus’ sweats. “Love you, Hazza,” his husband mumbles, voice firm despite the sleep clinging to it and his beard scratching against the lining of Harry’s hoodie.

Regulus kisses the crown of his head and then the side of Harry’s.

They make an additional mug for James—with double the amount of honey for his husband because that glorious dad-stomach doesn’t come from just anywhere—and then all pile on the couch, huddled close together under the throw blanket as James puts on Brooklyn99 on Netflix.

Regulus’ arm is numb in a matter of ten minutes and James is back asleep in a matter of five. The soft snoring seems to be great background white noise though because they barely get through one episode when Harry’s breaths start coming slower as well where he’s cuddled into their sides.

He clicks the TV off, sinking deeper into the sofa cushions and when Regulus falls asleep it’s to the sounds of his family and the smell of warm honey and a whiff of smokey bonfire. 

They should make smores tomorrow.

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

Can you write something hinny that includes the phrase “you are everything to me” or something in that vein of romantic confessionals?

This turned out a big angstier/sadder than you might've hoped, but here it is anyway <3

It wasn’t a very happy birthday, all things considered. 

There had been cake - chocolate. Presents - more than usual. Singing - respectably on-key. Guests - so many that they’d spilled out into the yard. All the typical ingredients for an excellent party. 

But.

Mum had been crying when she’d frosted the cake. 

Ginny had received a new broomstick (Harry), a lovely necklace (her parents), expensive French perfume (Bill and Fleur); a particularly good haul, even for seventeen. And yet, she’d swallowed the lump in her throat when, rather than a customary box of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products, she’d opened new Quidditch boots. Happy seventeenth, from George, the card had said. Just George.

Their plucky rendition of Happy Birthday sounded hollow without Fred shrieking an off-key upper harmony. Mum had always said he ruined it, all those years of birthdays with seven kids. Now, without it, the song seemed broken beyond repair. But, asking them not to sing it at all had seemed worse, somehow. 

Mum and Dad and Bill and Fleur and Charlie and Percy and Audrey and George and Ron and Hermione and Harry and Kingsley and Hagrid and Luna and Neville and Hannah and Andromeda and Teddy and…

No Fred. No Lupin. No Tonks. No Collin. Their absence was glaring. A dementor that sucked all the happiness from the room. 

She’d put on a brave face through it all. Eaten the cake even though it tasted like tears, thanked them all for the gifts that had broken her heart, cheekily conducted a song that she’d rather never hear again, tried to breathe around the gaping chasm her brother had left behind. 

Not a very happy birthday, at all. But they’re trying to make it one, and perhaps eventually the trying will work. 

One has to hope. 

For now, the firewhiskey will have to supplement. 

Ginny is pleasantly buzzed by the time the non-family guests have gone. Mum is busying herself in the kitchen, trying unsuccessfully to hide a new bout of tears. Her father and brothers - sans George - are all lazing around the den, half heartedly listening to the wireless - Wasps vs. Tornados. George had gone up to bed an hour ago, but Ginny couldn’t blame him. Hermione, Percy, and Fleur are talking about the Beauxbatons exam curriculum, something Ginny wants exactly zero part in.

One person, she notices, is conspicuously absent. 

She finds him out on the swing in the garden, looking out over the orchard, a glass of what appears to be firewhiskey in his hand. 

She allows herself a moment just to look at him - disheveled hair and handsome face and sharp jaw. She knows, logically, that Harry is safe now, and yet she can’t quite quell the old instinct to drink him in. One last look at him, like she might never get another, like she’ll have to cling onto this one, ration it out to recall when she needs to. 

It’s stupid, anyway. The memory of him had never been even close to the real thing, but in that long year apart she’d never stopped trying to remember the exact shape of his eyes, the way he had a dimple in his left cheek when he smirked at her, the way his hands were solid and sure and so good at making her feel things she’d never–

“Gin?”

He notices her standing there, and offers her a half-smile through the darkness. She can just make out the glint of his eyes behind his specs. 

“Thought you’d left,” she says, aiming for teasing but ending up somewhere just shy of it. “Alright if I join you out here?”

“Of course,” he says, as though offended she’d even asked. “Plenty of room.”

There is, but she snuggles up next to him anyway, her added weight causing them to sway gently on the swing. He drops an arm over her shoulder, and a kiss to her temple, and pulls her up against him. The vague thrum of anxiety that had plagued her all day seems to quiet under the warm weight of his touch. 

“Happy birthday,” Harry says. He’d said it earlier, with everyone, but she likes hearing it again, just for her. 

Ginny hums. “Yeah, I suppose. Mum’s crying again, and George went up to bed ages ago. Dead grim in there. Dunno why Mum insisted we do this whole party when it’s made her so bloody miserable, I’d have been alright with a normal dinner.”

“It’s your seventeenth, though,” Harry points out. “Suppose she wanted it to be special. It should be special.”

“Well, we put on a good show of it, anyway,” Ginny says, reaching over and snatching the glass of firewhisky from Harry’s grip and stealing a gulp. She relishes the burn of it. 

Harry lets out a small breath of a laugh, pinches at her side for her thievery, but he lets her do it anyway. He tugs the glass back out of her grip once she’s finished and takes another gulp himself. 

“It’s what we’ve got to do though, isn’t it?” Harry says suddenly. “Pretend it’s alright until it is.”

“Doesn’t seem like it’ll ever be alright, really,” Ginny says cynically, snuggling deeper into Harry’s embrace. “Or at least, it’ll never be the way it was.”

“No,” Harry agrees, and he sounds more serious than she wants him to. 

God, what is wrong with her? She used to be better at this: lightening the mood with a joke or some good banter, fighting off the gloom. She doesn’t want to sit out here on her seventeenth birthday with her boyfriend and talk about death.

After a minute, she can sense Harry is searching for words. She leans back so that she can look up at his face, and finds he’s staring straight ahead, chewing on something. He seems to be on the precipice of speech, but then he takes another gulp of his drink. 

“What is it?” Ginny breathes. 

“Nothing,” Harry says quickly. “It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” Ginny says firmly. She can’t imagine ever finding anything he has to tell her stupid. 

He looks down to meet her eye, and god. He makes her feel too much, like her heart is overbrimming and spilling out over her bones. 

“I just…” he struggles. He seems to find his words. “I was just thinking that I’m really glad I chose to live so that I could be here at your shite birthday party.”

“Oh, thanks,” Ginny snorts before the entirety of his words strike her. “I really appreciate–” She cuts herself off and sits up straight. “Hang on. What do you mean, ‘chose to live’?”

Harry averts his eye and takes another sip of firewhiskey. 

The question hangs in the evening air, and as the silence swells, Ginny realizes she isn’t sure that she wants to hear the answer. 

They’d spent weeks, filling each other in about the last year in dribs and drabs. She doesn’t yet have the full picture of all he’d been through, of all that had happened, but she doesn’t begrudge him. There are sore spots in her own past she’d rather not press – not yet, not just now – things she hasn’t been able to find the words to say to him yet. 

She reckons the same is true for him, too. She’d never wanted to press him, but it had not escaped her notice there is a gaping hole in her understanding of what had transpired in May: Harry, dead in Hagrid’s arms. 

He’d gone into the forest to die, and he’d come out alive. That’s all she knows, and frankly it’s all she’d mustered up the courage to ask. There seem to be too many painful doors to open down that particular avenue, things like why didn’t you say goodbye and did you know you’d come back and were you scared and I thought you were dead and I felt like I was too. 

They hadn’t touched it, and yet Harry seemed to be offering it to her, now. 

“What do you mean?” she says more softly, more bravely. “You chose to live?”

And so he tells her. Slowly, and stilted, but his hand is warm in hers. Snape’s memories. Learning that he had to die. The long walk into the forest. Finding Voldemort. 

“...I closed my eyes and I thought of you,” Harry says, like it’s just some part of the story, like he’s not breaking her heart and stitching it back together in one with these words. “So that you’d be the last thing I saw, and then he did it. Avada Kedavra. And I was gone.”

He presses a hand to his chest, and Ginny can picture the green light striking him there. She can’t fathom any of it, how difficult it must’ve been for him to walk to his own execution, how scared he must have been, how he could possibly still be sitting, living and breathing, beside her now. She grips his hand so tightly that it’s a wonder he has any feeling in it at all. 

Harry shifts uncomfortably, and his words are awkward now. “I still don’t know if any of it was real, or if it was just something I imagined while I was… wherever I was. But I… I spoke with Dumbledore. Or… I imagined I did, I dunno. About a lot of things, but mainly that I could choose to go, you know, on. Or I could go back and live again, if I wanted.”

He explains of the protection his mother’s love had left him with, that had tethered him to life despite the Killing Curse to his chest. 

Harry’s grip on her hand tightens, and he turns to meet her eyes fully for the first time since he began speaking. He wipes his other hand wearily over his face, and sighs. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit drunk. This is… it’s your birthday. I didn’t mean to–”

“Harry,” Ginny interrupts gently. “Go on.”

Harry inhales, bracing himself against the memory. “I knew if I chose to come back, I’d be coming back to the war, and Voldemort, and everyone I loved dying. And for a minute the thought of just… leaving it all behind, being at peace with my parents, and Sirius, and Lupin…”

Ginny can imagine how strong of a pull that must’ve been. She grips him harder, as though he’s facing the choice again at this moment and she might be able to tether him to her with her fingers.

“But then I thought of you, and the life I wanted – I want, with you. And I knew I had to come back, even if it meant dealing with all of the shite that came with it.”

Just like with the rest of it, he doesn’t seem to realize that he’s said anything of any particular import, but the words burrow under her skin and make a home there, painful and vulnerable and hopeful. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry says anxiously, interrupting himself as he looks at her expression. “Shit, Ginny, I didn’t–”

Ginny realizes she has tears streaming down her cheeks. She wipes them away impatiently. 

“--shit timing, it’s all a bit heavy for your birthday, isn’t it?” Harry babbles. “I just said it because I know today was dead grim, and you’re right, things will probably never be the same. But I just kept thinking that I’m so glad we’ll get to do it all again next year and for the first time that doesn’t seem like–”

She cuts off his anxious babbling with a kiss, hard and searing, and she holds his chin in her hands, precious, appreciating how very close she came to rationing memories of him for the rest of her life. 

She pulls away, her head still spinning with all that she’d told her. She needed to think about it, ask more questions about Snape and Voldemort and Horcruxes and blood magic. But most pressingly: “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You’re telling me that I’m the last thing you thought of when you went to die, and the reason you decided to live?”

Harry stares at her. “Well, when you put it like that– I suppose, yeah. Yes.”

Ginny shakes her head slowly, helplessly. “Harry.”

“I love you,” Harry says, like this is all the explanation that’s needed, because perhaps it is. He’s said this to her every day for weeks, but this is the first time she truly appreciates that love is a verb; that he’s not describing a state of being but rather something he’s actively doing: loving her. 

“I’m not always the best with words–” Harry continues, and Ginny nearly chokes. “--but you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and it’s not even a competition, really. You’re everything. I didn’t mean to put pressure on you, or anything, I realize now how that all sounded and–”

“I love you, too,” Ginny says fiercely, ignoring any out he’s offering her, like she’d want one. “And I want to talk about the rest of it, all of it. I can’t believe you had to– I don’t even want to think about–” Ginny shakes her head. “You haven’t put any pressure on me, other than I don’t know how I’m meant to respond to that in a way that measures up–”

“No, you don’t–”

“But I love you,” Ginny presses on. “So much. And that’s what I want with you too, all of it, everything. I always have. I’m… so glad you came back because I don’t know what I’d have done if–”

“Gin–”

Ginny kisses him again, desperate. Harry says he’s the one who’s no good with words but Ginny has never been less articulate in her life. Instead she tries to pour the contents of her heart into the fingers she runs through his hair, the grip of her hands over his chest where his heart beats reassuringly beneath his warm skin, the press of her lips against his. 

She pulls back, eyes wet, breathing heavily. Harry’s looking at her with that soft wonder that he sometimes gets, an expression she might understand a bit better now. “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard, but if you ever try to go off alone and die again, I will kill you myself. Don’t you ever do that again, alright?”

Harry grins. “Alright. I think I can manage that.”

“Good.”

A grin spreads across Ginny’s face, and now they’re just two grinning idiots on a swing who want to spend forever together, and for the first time there isn’t any glaring obstacle in the way of it. She allows herself to picture it - a nice cozy home to share, a wedding, kids with messy hair and green eyes, a life that might grow around the grief in her chest. 

She settles back into his arms, snug against him, miraculously alive and hers. She loves him so much it has nowhere to go. 

“I am sorry your birthday was shite, though,” Harry says. 

“It wasn’t,” Ginny says, and she means it.

[ropes3amthoughts]

GUYS I STARTED PLAYIJG ISAT THE OTHER DAY AND IM HAVING SUCH AN AWESOKE TIME AND RIGHT NOW IM HAVINF A HUGE HELL OF A FIME FUCK YES AROACESPEC REP IN ISAT OH MY GOD GUYS OH MY GOD YES FUCK YES WOOHOO I HEADCANONED THEM BOTH AS ARO BC OF THE ROMANCE BOOK CONVO AND NOW ITS PRACTICALLY CONFIRMED HELL YES IN STARS AND TIME MORE LIKE IN STARS AROACESPEC IN TIME CRAB YEAH!!!!!!! IM AROACESPEC MYSELF SO THIS IS SO EXCITING TO SEE FOR ME LIKE OMG RHEY ARE ON THE SOECTRUM AND ASEXUAL TOO OMGGGGGGG THIS IS SO COOL I THINK I CAN ONLY THINK OF LIKE ONE OTHER AROSPEC CHARACTER OF THE TOP OF MU HEAD THATS ONLY LIKE IMPLIED BTW ITS SAIKI K LOL. IVE HEARD ABOUT LIKE TWO OTHER ASEXUAL CHARACTERS IN MEDIA BUT ITS SO MICH MORE COMMON TO HAVE ASEXUAL CHATCATERS AND NOT ARO CHARACTERS AND ALSO PEOPLE MIX UP ARO AND ACE ALL THE TIME 🤦 BUT SOMETIMES THEY DO HAVE ARO AND ACE ISAT PLEASE TELL ME YOU HAVE AN AROALLO CHARCATER FOR ONCE OMG THAT WOULD BE SO COOL BUT IF NOT ITS STILL COOL THEFES TWO AROACE SPEC PEOPPE AND I LOVE FHE WAY THEYRE PORTTAYED LIKE MIRABELLE IS TITALLH REPULSED IRL BUT SHE LOVES READINF ROMANCE AND SIFFRIN IS LOWKEY CHILLING WITH ROMANCE IRL IT SEEMS BUT ISNT A ROMANTIC AND ISNT INTO ROMANCE BOOKS AND LIKE MSN THIS IS SO COOL ANYWAYS AND SO RO HAVE REO OF THEM IS SO COOL THIS GAKE IS SO COOL

THIS IS SOMETHING THE KIDS WOULD CALL LEVEL 5 WOKE LGBT GAME I LOBE IY WHOEVER SAID IT WAS GAYER THAN UNDERYALE WAS RIGJT ALSO GUYS ITS GOT A RON OF DIVERSE CHATACYERS RACE WISE TOO LIKE MIRABELLE IS BLACK AND ODILE IS ASIAN AND BONNIE IS SOMETHING NOT WHITE IDK AND IDK ABOUT SIFFRIN AND ISABEAU BUT LIKE IM MIXED RACE AND AROACESPEC AND TRANS NON-BINARY AND USE THEY/ITS PROBLUNS AND LIKE THIS GAME IS JUST SO COOL I LOBE GHE CHARACTERS AND I LOVE THE LOOPINH MECHANIC AND I LOBE THE STORY AND THE WORLDBUIODIKF AND THE OUZZLES AND YHE WAY THERES SUCH A SMALL MAP BIT SLIGHT BARIATIONS TO IT TJAY MAKE YOU GO BACK AND VHEVK EVERY NOOK AND VRANJY AND CONVO AGAIN OH MY GOD I LOBE THIS HAME YJIS GAME IS MADE FOR PEKPPE LIKE ME YIPPEE YAYYYY I LOVE ISAT IM SO EDCIYED

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Tahny's favorite drink is called a Blue Ga'haiian, named from her home world but containing very little of their actual exports. She often has to instruct the bartender how to make it and so she might as well share the recipe with you all.

Blue (Ga)Hawaiian

¾ oz Light Rum

¾ oz Vodka

½ oz Blue Curacao

1 oz Sweet and Sour

3 oz Pineapple Juice

Citrus Juice

Simple Syrup

Non Holo version under the cut where you can see everyone better, but spec that alt text babes. Wouldn't want to miss the details.

Okay, lets see if I can remember everyone. Left to Right, starting with Mad.

@skellymom @nika6q @lonewolflupe @noblelightfighter @eobe @hellfiresky @nocturius8015ficore @feral-ferrule @sunshinesdaydream @ghostymarni @thora-sniper @wings-and-beskargam @silverwings22 @sazzujazzu @mae-lou-ron @vimse (I know you're not tech-nically there but yes you are.) @blackseafoam

(wanted to add a shout out to @eclec-tech for the alt text colab ❤️)

[a-forbidden-detective]

Ron in specs and autumn clothes.

[nimbuswafflingabout]

HELLO this is an introduction post(I believe?) yapping about what I post mainly.

I do post romione a lot, but I DO ship other things! I do also post oc x canon so yk, be warned lol.

I think I focus on canon compliance, so most of my content, oc x canon included, will follow that. That doesn’t mean I’m firmly against fanon, II’m just more likely to post canon esque things.

The way I headcanon, draw, etc, characters IS based off of mostly book canon, but I do include the films sometimes, along with my own hcs and things of the sort.

I DO have my qualms with quite a lot from the books, and I will occasionally post about that.

Also! I don’t like terfs, and that most definitely includes the author,(though my issues with various aspects of the books were before the transphobia thing, but dear god did that not help, it in fact made issues in the books far more prevalent!) Four year long hyperfixation just won’t leave unfortunately.

Here are ships I enjoy(and will post about):

Romione, ginmione, rarry, my oc x Hermione lmao, lavmione, most Harry ships tbh, tedromeda, quillkiller, dorlene, platonic snily, grindeldore, snupin, jily, remadora, marylus(in a comedic sorta way).

Here are ships I’m on the fence about:(and will probably post about):

Drarry, wolfstar (but only middles aged/post POA), linny.

Here are ships I DON’T like(and will not post about about):

Romantic harmione, dramione, sevmione, jegulus

While I do love romantic romione, I also enjoy them platonically, and WILL sometimes just post platonic stuff of em. Most of my golden trio stuff will be focused on all three in a platonic soulmates way.

Ancient House of Black enthusiast.

Here are my main headcanons that will show up in a lot of my posts:

Autistic Hermione, auDHD Harry, adhd Ron, trans Ron!!!

the golden trio are all bi trust, aroace spec Hermione, sometimes just outright aromantic Hermione, Ginny Weasley is a girl kisser. Aroace Luna.

I WILL also post 15 times within 18 hours, and then leave for like a month lol

That was very long but hopefully that was helpful lol

—Nimbus :D

[snarrybang]

Gold (Potions and Hearts)

by bluebird8683 on AO3, for @hereiamwithmyninjaclan

Teen And Up Audiences Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Characters: Severus Snape, Harry Potter, Hermione GrangerPoppy PomfreyMagic - CharacterDeath (Harry Potter)Ron Weasley, Mentioned - - Character, Tom Riddle | Voldemort

Additional Tags: Good Severus Snape, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Protective Severus Snape, Abused Severus SnapeAbused Harry Potter, Spy Severus Snape, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Magically Powerful Severus Snape, Rituals, Study of Ancient Runes (Harry Potter), Runes, Aspects, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Madam Pomfrey is scary, Romantic Severus Snape, Sweet Severus Snape, Possessive Harry Potter, Severus Snape uses nicknames, POV Harry Potter, gold - Freeform, Mentioned Dissociation, referenced injuries

Words: 6,142

Summary: In order to have a better chance against Voldemort, Harry and Severus perform a ritual, except, as things tend to go with Harry involved, the results are something they weren’t even aware were possible.

SnarryBANG! 2024 Gift Exchange AO3 collection

Guessing game: who wrote what?

Gorgeous banner by @ac1d6urn! ID under the cut

Severus scrutinizes Harry, who is face to face with Severus’ patronus, a silver doe with bright green eyes swooping in with the magic whirlwind resembling a winter blizzard. Both Harry and the doe are mesmerised with one another. The tip of Harry’s index finger is over the tip of Severus’ wand. Harry is holding up lily of the valley blossoms below the doe’s chin. Harry’s cravat is green with white decorations to match the flowers. Severus’ expression is stern and attentive. Behind him, bats descend from the top of the drawing. A tree stretches its branches behind Harry. They are enveloped in sunrise pinks and blues of the sky. A full moon hovers between Severus and Harry’s figures, with a solitary shadowed spec of a bat against its yellow glow.

[spextkrr]

the take away.

[ask-surfing-radiowaves]

You walk into the outlet mall that all of your friends have been begging for you to check out. It's decently popular for a fairly new building. Looking around it's a bit overwhelming at first, but you adjust. All of the different shops and vendors, every single one screams of its own personality. After taking a moment to look around the place, deciding which shops you'd like to visit and your budget, you get started walking around.

All the shop owners have just as much personality as their shops you pretty soon find out! And the whole vibe of the place is quite friendly! ... You'll definitely end up coming back here again…

[taps mic] 🎙️ testing?… 1.. 2.. 3….

¡Hola! Bienvenido, Welcome!!

“ This is the sound center of the mall! Where all of your announcements, advertisements, and music is being held. Anything to do with the speakers, etcetera etcetera. So feel free to stop by if you need anything.“

ABOUT THE ACCOUNT

⋆.˚ ★—  Posts will mostly be responding to asks but will also include: OOC, art, and interacting with other shop owners

⋆.˚ ★—  OOC wise, refer to me with any pronouns, call me Aster 💫!

⋆.˚ ★—  A list of everyone! Go check them out:

@ask-asch-piercing-shop

 @ask-tango-tattooparlor 

@ask-zombiecleo-arcade 

@ask-scott-thriftshop 

@ask-moon-animal-rescue

@gunkygamers 

@ask-jimmys-cursebreaker-bakery 

@ask-cubs-flower-shop 

@askrenchanting 

@ask-rons-artisanal-spoons 

@ask-itlw-toolsnadvertising 

@ask-fwhips-coffee-shop 

@ask-barista-gem 

@ask-leifs-busterblock

 @grianaviarystore 

@bigbmagicandmadness 

@ask-orion-sounds

@ask-surfing-radiowaves (you are right here!)

BOUNDARIES

⋆.˚ ★—  No hate speech/bigotry/racism/etc…

⋆.˚ ★—  Please do not spam! 

⋆.˚ ★—  No asks regarding sexual NSFW. Just don't be weird overall, folks. Use common courtesy

 

CHARACTER INFO 

Name: Lucio “Luzu” Vlogs

Pronouns: He/Him

Orientation: Omnisexual, Aro-spec

CREDIT 

⋆.˚ ★— PFPs made by: @NoCoolNameFound (I'm using a placeholder until mine is drawn!!)

⋆.˚ ★—  @uzmacchiato for the dividers!

TAGS

⋆.˚ ★—  #faultyfrequencies (Regarding issues with sound in the mall. As well as any other issues, tech wise, that regard him)

⋆.˚ ★—  #itsbroadcastinghour (Talking tag!)

⋆.˚ ★—  #CataclysmMallAU/#Unexpected Shops (the general tag for this AU!)

⋆.˚ ★—  #behind-the-scenes (OOC talk)

⋆.˚ ★— #welcome-back-on-air (announcements and radio)

Welcome to the Unexpected Shops. The MCYT Mall AU! We hope you visit again soon

[losergendered]

ID: a set of 26 images in 13 pairs. each has one image of the listed trolls character, with a white outline in front of their corresponding flags, and a second image which is a blank flag splice. END ID

Cooper from Trolls is an intersex, trismascfluid, sweetnsillygender, honkquotic, rollercadic, bowarmballoonic, ravefelic, axenica masculine, goofyfluid, funbodiment, balloongender, confettilexic, genderbouffon, weirdkidpartyic, dinorainbimigic, gofenian, clownfool, praesboy, panqueer violenatian who uses any pronouns, but prefers masculine, neutral, feminine, clown, fun, jester, sound, & emoji related pronouns/neopronouns! Cie only feels platonic and familial attraction! Sil has autism, ADHD and is a maladaptive daydreamer!

Prince D is a transambitidal, rosgenderfaun, abinary, nonbinaryboyflux, agender transmasc, pomboy, nioyqueer, hiphopic, urbancoric, coolbodiment, chillbodiment, lofihiphopic, vintirapmusica, heybbsongic, dontwanfallovica, zodiackillica, nasmoralesica, doomsdayica, meandyourmamica, canikickica, futurefunkic, chillbodiment, tminarluec, glowystaric, neonarcadix, darkneongender, nexelic dalaen who uses hi/hem, they/them, h☆/h☆m, neon/neons, wit/wits, vibe/vibes, hip/hop, xe/xem, and cy/cyb pronouns! H☆ has autism, chronic fatigue, and narcolepsy!

Prince D & Cooper are twin siblings!

Satin is a queerfeminine, rosenion, marisundyethe, doveoospilaholoec, confettilotusemojic, foxjamfloralac, bisexual femme lesbian troll! Shi uses feminine pronouns! Fae’s in a QPR with Ripley Wisp!

Chenille is a futchfluid, selefutch, cenisolar, genderfaeren, cloudsunraina, regapphinoic, rainottalunaquic, glassmilaric, m-spec neptunic, enbisapph, gaigirl fingirlboy troll who uses mae/mer and ala/alum pronouns! Mae have HPD & NPD, and are in a soft romo relationship with DJ Suki!

They are twins, and both have ADHD!

DJ Suki is a casualic, fem 2 masc, girlbutch, azurboygirlvs, anonbinary, rejectionarian, fluidflux, transmasquasifem, gnc woman/non-binary evenic, vivesse, invivapostribus, notteskatic, lazybodiment, marvlaen, futurefunkroic, nu-discoroic, daisygender, chillpillpoeic vesbian! Dj uses he/him, she/her, they/them, bee/boop, dai/daisy, & xyz/xyzs, 🎧/📻/🎤self, nameself, and no pronouns! Dai are in a soft romo relationship with Chenille!

Biggie is a high futch, helifemme, femspecere, autigender, translotus, sillynerd, lovecatian, vanillafettiageric, cutesieaesic, breadcakena, caliadorcakic, lumisoul, veldifemascyne, rosbian, auroraskycoric, pluskysafstar, kidcolovic, starrycottorica, dorlunaesic, goldlihydrian beartwink who uses they/them, zhe/zhim, nya/nyas :3/:3, co/coz, waf/waffle, pie/pies, maca/ron, bub/ble, pitter/patter, and eep/eeps pronouns! Bub is hyperverbal, hyperempathetic, and has GAD; Mr Dinkles is his emotional support worm!

Mr Dinkles is a xenoutherine, rainbowputtyic, shinyic, semi verbal worm who uses he/him, it/its, and all other pronouns except she/her!

Smidge is a sportyaesic, cute presenting, peach femme, transambilunar, rageroomic, irasteelkic, sharpsolikarmic, anler, genderklok, angerity, breakstuffsongic, ragefiric, chompgender, carnibunnic, BPDragender, tinydangimal, boomexplosik, angrybungender, sunnystormic, starfreak, rostrirl, turigirl pitbull who has BPD, erotomania, & IED! She is dating Harper, her FP!

Harper is a bigenderdox, findyne, condisstrange, extrogender, vanillafunfettic, owlstarindic, brightcanvasic, paintenfemasc, willofairylunen, neurocolour, y2khypopstalgic, bowmojimothric, cmykartic, rainbowgender, glostrabrightic, gendercaprio, anlovecorin, autiquoifem, clarconflux troll who uses sh!!/h!!r, !!t/!!ts, th!!y/th!!m, ao/aos, viv/vivid, doll/dolls, laugh/laughs, tri/trick, yip/yips, jest/jests, splish/splosh, mrrp/mrrps, paint/paints, 🎨/🖌️/🎭/🗣️/🌟/🔆/🌈/💮self pronouns, and she/he auxillary pronouns! !!t has ADHD and is dating Smidge!

Laguna is a acagender, gendermarine, crepumothic, altumerlumin, mermaidaesic, cowajellic, dolphinshrine, seavastia, oceanset, seadraconic, stelluffin, bioluminae, desean, biolumarineic, thalassogender, calmseashellic, sansolramare, astrobyssian, celesealampic, mariluminotte, eelgrassraindeeric, obsessedfreak, femspecere, deepgreenic, interefluid, autiquoirose binaryn’t gal. Sea uses she/her, sea/shell, bleu/bleus, oce/ocean, ae/aqua, co/cor, glub/glup, and other marine-related neopronouns! Co is legally blind and has autism, fluctuating empathy, and social anxiety!

Dante Crescendo is a lindrodox, angelenic, surgitlunica, lacerocodaintic, diviniumgender, luxrauvas, cessgelcorian, fantaroyalia, soldivingela, sofpoetric, empyrealexic, classicalmusica, angellen, seroanus, aeterlum, ferrinaderic, angelcessian, stardustlexic, relatiquin, porcelaineic, angelfluid, cherublexic troll! Hē uses is/eum, ely/elym, fri/frill, shy/hyr, cel/celest, fai/faith, ly/lyre, var/vaeir, hē/hine, & ou/ous, archaeopronouns, and any angel related neopronouns!

Demo is a soft femme malewifepresentic, eternelyn, gentlecoreflux, rerondire, rockfem, punkmasc, hardcoreguyic, radicalexic, fireguitarna, guyromusinwayven, punkcaerus, genderostex, aggrorockvolicboy, popunkmasc, puncomedic, genderdystoxe, pupsleepyic, bugbrownaturic, datesime aroace troll who uses he/him, rock/roll, elec/trick, metal/metals, and bass/bass pronouns! Rock has ADHD!

Ripley Wisp is a butch, velocier, freelekour, parkouaic, motorcyclic sapphic who uses she/her pronouns! She is dating Satin!

For 🌖☄️ anon!

[nebulablakemurphy]

Through Love And By Love (Pt. 3)

Draco Malfoy x fem!OC

Summary: Twenty-Two years ago, Draco Malfoy used the imperius curse to slow Voldemort’s rise to power. No good deed goes unpunished. Warning: this series contains mature subject matter surrounding use of the imperius curse, reader discretion advised.

Part 1 | Part 2

Draco makes the proper modifications to the obliviate charm. It won't completely alter Rosanna's memories, it will only suppress the ones where he is present. When everything is sorted, he'll be able to give them back.

Seems simple enough, and once it's done, it's done. The imperius curse however is more difficult. When Draco casts it, he has to mean it. If he half asses the spell or lets his feelings get in the way, not only will it not work; but the effects it will have on Rosanna's mind...he wants to avoid at all costs.

The duration of the curse is also up in the air, could be weeks, could be months, could be years. All the while he'll be commanding this shell of the girl he loves.

'I control you.' Draco repeats the mantra in his head, every night before bed, willing himself to mean it.

When the time finally comes, he's standing in front of Rosanna as she's sound asleep, with his wand drawn. 'She doesn't remember', Draco tells himself. 'This isn't your Rosanna, it only looks like her. You can do this, you have to.' "Imperio." Draco says, with conviction.

Nothing happens, because he hasn't given a direction. 'Wake up', he wills her. And so she does.

It takes him a few tries to get into a routine, he doesn't have to think each specific step. She still has a brain after all. He only has to think of the desired out come. For example, 'get dressed and follow me', is one simple order instead of several smaller ones.

————————————————————————

After a few weeks of having her at Malfoy manner Draco begins experimenting with more complex demands such as, 'tell me what you think.' Or, 'act like you care for me.'

For a time he can almost forget that it's all a lie. Draco sees her in the room of requirement, how she was, how she loved him. If he ignores the small discrepancies, it’s bearable.

Malfoy manor is under lock and key, however that doesn’t stop an owl from arriving, carrying a parcel with the last will and testament of Albus Dumbledore. Along with Ron, Harry and Hermione; Rosanna is a beneficiary.

‘To Rosanna Marie McVay, I leave my mirror. May you always remember who you are.’

A long ragged shard of an old broken mirror. Draco wants to get rid of it, because even the words seem to taunt, like a cruel joke. But perhaps it means something to her that he cannot comprehend. And so he files it away in his chest of drawers for safe keeping.

It takes about three months before Narcissa runs her wand over Rosanna; and finally it glows. She's expecting.

"Well done, Draco." Lucius says, putting a hand on his shoulder. He’s out of Azkaban, still he isn’t the same man he was before going in.

Draco shrugs him off, they haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other since his return.

"You should let the dark lord know, tonight." Narcissa tells her son gingerly, "he'll be pleased."

"Shouldn't we wait a while? Just to be sure." Draco is still in denial, everything's happened too fast.

"Don't be ridiculous." Lucius insists. Voldemort has been breathing down their necks for weeks.

"What about Rosanna's parents?" Draco asks. "Surely Archer and Dixie deserve to know they're expecting a grandchild."

"Draco...you must understand, we could hardly have them looking for her." Narcissa cuts in.

"What've you done to them?" He spits, angrily.

"Relax Draco, 'twas a simple memory spell. They're on holiday." Lucius informs him.

"Where?" Draco's jaw ticks.

"Just off the coast of France, it's a lovely villa. All expenses paid." His mother brushes a spec of lint from his shoulder.

"If you ever do anything to hurt her or her family-"

"Draco, darling," Narcissa stops him. "We're on the same side. We are protecting Rosanna, we are protecting her parents."

"Could've fooled me." Draco disagrees.

"Mind yourself." Lucius snaps.

"Did it ever occur to you, that perhaps forcing us to have a child was not, in fact, in our best interest? That it might, instead, be detrimental to Rosanna, who hasn't had a proper chance to finish her education? Or the fact that she is brilliant and deserves every opportunity in this world? Do you ever consider the fact you took all that away from her?" Draco is gutted, he's afraid, he is alone.

"No one’s taken a thing from her. We've given her a wealth of opportunity. Is the situation ideal? Of course not. But son, you must know, when this is over; after serving the dark lord, she can have the best tutors. If she wants to continue her studies, she will do just that. Any avenue that Rosanna wishes to venture will be readily available to her. As for you, you will want for nothing Draco. Just as you always have. You can marry, live a long and happy life here in the manor." Lucius doesn't understand, it should be an honor to both of them to restore the Malfoy name to grace.

"What about the baby?" Draco runs a hand through his hair.

"He will have the world as his finger tips, darling." Narcissa coos. "A strong Malfoy boy, a son. You will raise him right, just like you were raised. "

"So you're no longer concerned with her lack of pure blood?" The boy scoffs.

“Draco, you are my son. I care for you a great deal, I want the best for you; always. All will be right once this baby is born. Open your eyes, see it." Lucius says, in closing.

Draco can't see it, but he does see Rosanna's belly grow over the next five months. 'Be happy,' is his only requirement of her.

She has a proper bump now. After she's gone to sleep, Draco keeps his hand on her stomach. Finally feeling his son stir beneath his fingers.

He attempts to choke down the lump in his throat, but he can't. Tears slipping onto his pillow as his shoulders heave with sobs. He can't do this alone.

Rosanna gasps, springing up into a sitting position. The pleasant, floating, out of body feeling she's become accustomed to is gone. Leaving behind a terrible migraine in it's wake. "Fuck." She complains, clutching her head between her hands.

"Lie down, love." Draco tells her, without much thought.

"No, my head-" Rosanna argues, "something's wrong."

He can tell, she's not listening to him anymore.

An imperius curse can be broken, but only through extreme force of will. Few people have ever done so.

"Please, do something." Rosanna reaches for him with trembling hands. She can't recall more than a passing glance shared between them at Hogwarts, but she can remember the passed months with him here. How kind he was, patient, gentle; the way one might treat a very dear friend.

"Let me look at you." Draco insists, holding his hands on either side of her face. "You're bleeding, Ro."

Blood trickles from her left nostril. Upon truly seeing him, something within her scream. There's something right there, just beneath the surface that she can't seem to grasp, but she wants to. The harder she reaches for it, the harder her head throbs in protest.

Draco knows what he has to do, the bleeding is getting worse. Her mind has been tampered with for too long, these kind of spells aren't meant to last forever. He has to give her memories back.

When he does, the blood from her nose slows significantly. Dashing to the bathroom he retrieves a hand towel, holding it beneath her nose. Massaging her temples as she keeps the towel in place.

"Rosanna," Draco says, after a long moment.

"Are you ok?" She asks.

"Me? I should be asking you." He chuckles, he doesn't know if the spell worked. He doesn't know if she remembers, or if things were lost in translation.

"I heard you crying," she explains. "I knew I had to get up. I couldn't at first, but I just kept telling myself, you have to wake up Ro, you have to wake up.”

"An imperius curse is nearly impossible to break." Draco remarks, brushing wayward hairs from Rosanna's face. "I should have known, nearly impossible is no object for you."

"Of course not." Rosanna shrugs, teasingly.

Draco knows she's never thought of herself as anything special, clearly she is; she always has been.

"You should try to rest." He encourages.

"Yeah," She agrees, moving to lie down in the bed they've shared for months. However, this being the first time it's truly them.

They face each other on top of the dark satin sheets, their hands clasped between them. Content to simply stare into the others eyes for the rest of eternity.

"Did you miss me?" Rosanna whispers, after a long while.

"Every second." Draco confesses, in the same hushed tone.

————————————————————————-

The next few weeks are spent finding their new normal. Another adjustment, from the kids at Hogwarts, to the imperiused puppet and master, to now pregnant Rosanna and overprotective Draco.

Narcissa and Lucius can see that something is different about her, in comparison to the girl who'd arrived there all those months ago. Writing it off to hormones and never pressing the issue.

The news that Voldemort has finally requested Rosanna attend a death eater’s meeting doesn't come as a surprise to any of them. It has only ever been a question of when.

Narcissa offers to get Ro up to snuff. Draco is wary of leaving them alone together, but Rosanna assures him that she's fine. So eventually he leaves to ready himself for the evening.

"You're a beautiful girl." Narcissa remarks, running her brush through Rosanna's long strawberry blonde hair.

She sits in front of Narcissa's lavish vanity, staring blankly into the mirror as the older woman stands behind her. Rosanna doesn't look like herself, painted in dark makeup and zipped into a perfectly tapered midnight blue silken dress.

"A perfect match for my Draco." She goes on. "Any thoughts on a name for the baby?”

"Not yet." Rosanna forces a smile.

"Draco is named after a constellation; just something to think about." Narcissa knows full well that right now, she's the closest thing the girl has to a mother.

"I don't really know anything about having a baby." Rosanna thought she'd have more time to learn, when she was older, when she was ready.

"It's perfectly normal to be nervous. After all, being a mother is the most important undertaking a woman has. All Draco's life I have spoiled him, but there are things money can not buy. Namely love; your love." Narcissa moves her hair lightly into place.

Rosanna twists her hands in her lap, "Draco keeps telling me I'll be a good mother, but how does he know? I'm going to disappoint him if I don't know what to do the second that sucker is slapped into my arms."

"You'll have help," Narcissa assures her, "a nanny if you'd like."

"No, I don't want a nanny." Rosanna shakes her head.

"Draco-" Narcissa greets when she spots him.

Rosanna turns to him, blonde hair styled into an elegant updo. Makeup done to perfection, a deep red gloss that makes her full lips look truly sinful.

"Give us a moment, mother." Draco stammers at the sight of her.

Narcissa gives a tight lipped grin as she leaves the room.

Ro runs her hands over her dress as she stands.

Draco approaches her, his face a mask of indifference. And for a second, Rosanna actually wonders if he's mad. "I would not change one cell in your body, nor hair on your head. You are easily the best thing that's ever happened to me. You could never disappoint me, I need you to know that. If you're having trouble with something, never hesitate to come to me."

"You gotta stop ease-dropping." Rosanna chastises, draping her arms around him, stroking lovingly at the soft hair on the nape of his neck.

"About tonight," he changes the subject. "We're meant to be guests of honor. You know who sits head of the table, we will sit immediately to his right. Traditionally, I would be seated aside of him, because I'm the male."

"Damn it." Rosanna shakes her head. "He's sexist too?"

Draco chortles, "As I was saying, you'll be next to him. Be calm, steady; I'll be right there with you. Across the table is a seat reserved for Snape, if he shows up. He shouldn’t try to talk to you, none of them will. If they do, keep it short and simple. You're honored to be there. I know you're a decent liar, you can pull this off."

"So what happens at these meetings?" Ro asks, nervously.

"Not much, we cover any news about Potter. While we're on the subject, it's imperative to remember, the dark lord knows you and Harry were friends. When he accessed Potter's mind and memories, you were there. Don't lie about it if he asks." Draco smooths a hand along her back.

"Ok." She nods.

"He'll give assignments, if need be and tie up any loose ends. It's all straight forward really." He puts her mind at ease.

The moment they enter the dining room, everything Draco had promised is out the window; because there's a woman, suspended midair near the archway. They recognize her as one of the professors from Hogwarts. Muggle studies wasn't a class either of them had taken, they don’t really know Ms. Charity Burbage, but they'd seen each other plenty in passing.

"Breathe," Draco whispers, "just keep breathing." His hand is at the small of her back, guiding her toward their seats.

Voldemort's mouth twists into a demented grin. "Well, if it isn't the young Mr. Malfoy and his beloved Rosanna. What a pleasure it is, to finally meet you." He purrs. "Come, join me." Voldemort motions to the seats aside of him.

"Thank you for having me," Rosanna smiles as Draco pulls out the chair for her, waiting until she sits before pushing her in.

"Of course, dear one." He eyes her belly. "As I'm sure you all know, a congratulations is in order for our friends. They are to have a son, bringing them one step closer to fulfilling their destiny."

All eyes at the table are fixed on them. Rosanna isn't sure if they're meant to speak or not. So she simply nods, crossing her legs beneath the table. Draco's left hand stretches over, searching for hers. She twines their fingers together, resting their hands in her lap.

Severus arrives a few moments after the meeting has officially started. Joining them at the table, giving Draco and Rosanna a once over as he takes his seat.

He sees them third year, in detention for fraternizing after hours. He sees them fourth year, dancing the night away at the ball. He sees them fifth year, tested and divided by circumstance. He sees them sixth year, leaving together the night he'd killed Albus.

He sees their then faces, he sees their now faces; still just children, but stripped of their innocence.

When Rosanna is excused, she rushes up the stairs to their bedroom.

Draco stays with his parents to see the others out. "She's not been feeling well, terrible morning sickness." He explains, "I better go check on her." Draco closes the door behind last of the death eaters before venturing up the staircase.

He finds her, dry heaving over the sink, mascara stained teardrops falling against the porcelain. Draco knows what a panic attack looks like, from personal experience.

"Alright sweetheart, you're alright." He wets a rag with cool water from the tap, lying it on the over heated skin at the back of her neck.

"I can't breathe," Rosanna sobs, fingers twisting against the edge of the sink basin. She needs to be sick, she needs to breath, she needs to lie down, she needs to scream.

"Try, try for me." Draco murmurs, his lips at her temple. "Take a deep breath in."

She does try, but suddenly her dress is too tight, suffocating her. "Get it off, get it off me." Rosanna chokes out, clawing at the zipper behind her, but her fingers won't cooperate.

Draco moves her trembling hands aside, using his own to ease the zipper down her back. The material pooling at her feet, but it doesn't help.

All she can think about is the woman from the parlor, dropping lifeless onto the dinner table and served as a meal to Nagini.

"I'm so sorry, Ro. You have to believe me, I had no idea that was going to happen. You were never supposed to see that. It was to be a normal meeting, just as I said. I didn't know." Draco apologizes fiercely, pressing desperate kisses to her shaking shoulders.

Her breaths come in short gasps, resting her head against the cool surface of the mirror. "It's not your fault." Rosanna shakes her head. The child in her womb stirs wildly, seemingly sensing her distress. She places a hand over her belly protectively.

Draco wraps both arms around her, grounding her. One hand resting over her heart, to dull the ache that's taken root there. The other on top of hers, calming their baby. "You are strong, you are safe, and you are so loved."

Rosanna isn't sure if he's talking to her or their child, either way, it's enough to bring her back to herself. She catches her breath, standing up straight and turning to face Draco.

His features still laced with worry. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm sorry. That's never happened before." Rosanna can't meet his eyes.

"There's nothing to apologize for." He tips her chin up to catch her gaze. "They aren't as awful once you're used to them. I'd like to tell you that they suck less too, but that'd be a lie; they always suck."

Rosanna smirks at him, "since when does Draco Malfoy say something sucks?"

"I've been hanging around this girl for sometime. She's an awful influence, you see, she's got quite a dodgy vocabulary." Draco teases. "I've tried to keep away, only problem is, I'm terribly in love with her and it never seems to work."

"I love you so much." Ro laughs, peppering his face with kisses. Effectively covering him in cherry red lip stick. "You look ridiculous," she tells him as they break apart.

"Yeah?" He turns her back toward the mirror.

Her hair is a bird's nest and her cheeks a mess of black streaks. "Before you take the mickey out of me, let's get that rubbish off your face."

"Screw you." She takes the cloth from her neck, rewetting it with soap; properly removing what's left of her makeup.

"What about me?" Draco protests, "you've done this." He motions to his crimson stained face.

"Don't you like my work?" Rosanna feigns hurt, softly swiping the marks off his face.

"I love your work, darling, however I'm afraid red's not my color." He smiles, it’s been so long that the feeling is foreign to the muscles in his face.

————————————————————————-

When the golden trio is dragged in, by snatchers, to Malfoy Manor, they look slightly worse for wear. Especially Harry, who is nearly unrecognizable under the swelling of his features from Hermione’s stinging jinx. A last ditch effort to conceal his identity.

When Draco cannot positively identify the boy as Harry Potter, Bellatrix utters one sickening command. “Bring me Rosanna.”

Draco nods, taking the stairs up to his bedroom. The door creaks open and Rosanna turns to him.

“What’s wrong?” She closes the book she’s been reading.

“I need you.” He chokes out. “I need you to come with me and I…Rosanna, I’m so sorry.”

Rosanna swallows hard, moving to her feet and smoothing out the front of her dress. The one with light purple daisies scattered about the material.

Draco and Rosanna know full well what will happen if they are caught lying. Still they do it anyway.

Legillimacy comes easy to her, the way occlumency does Draco. They’ve been working to teach each other, no time like the present to put those skills to the test.

“Come, Rosanna.” Bellatrix insists, giggling erratically as she does. “Right here.”

Rosanna crosses the room, joining Bellatrix near where Harry is kneeling. She is about six months along and her belly comes as a shock to her former friends.

“Good girl, come come.” Bellatrix pulls her in. Attempting to peer deep into Rosanna’s mind. “Take a good look for us.” She points down to the man in question. “Is it him? Is it Harry?”

Rosanna floods her thoughts with images of Harry from their childhood. Distracting Bellatrix, hiding what she knows to be true. This is Harry.

Bellatrix huffs out a breath, “you really don’t know, do you?”

Rosanna shakes her head, “I’m sorry. It’s too hard to tell with his face that way.”

“That’s alright, precious.” Bellatrix puts a hand to Rosanna’s belly. “You’ve done your part. Now run along, there’s work to be done.”

Rosanna nods, moving towards the stairs on shaky legs.

“Put the boys in the cellar,” Bellatrix barks her next command at Lucius and Draco, grabbing Hermione by the collar. “Me and this one need to have a little chat, girl to girl.”

The sound of Hermione's tortured cries haunt Rosanna's nightmares for years to come. But she knows the best, and only course of action is to return to her room and come up with a plan.

Tearing through the dresser, in search of her wand, she slices her finger on a shard of…glass? Even through the parchment wrapped haphazardly around it.

‘To Rosanna Marie McVay, I leave my mirror. May you always remember who you are.’

Rosanna tosses Dumbledore’s will aside, staring down at the reflection in her hand. Somehow the image staring back is not her own.

“Hello?” She whispers. The eye looking back at her could almost be her former headmaster’s. But that’s impossible. “Can you help me? My friends are being held captive in Malfoy manor-”

There is a pop from behind her, Rosanna squeals at the unexpected appearance of a house elf. Not one of the Malfoy’s, not anymore.

Dobby had been freed the year before Rosanna transferred to Hogwarts. He isn’t thrilled by the prospect of returning to Malfoy Manor, his old masters were very cruel, and Dobby is a free elf. But, “Dobby is here to help Harry Potter and his friends.”

“Harry is a good friend of mine. I need your help to get him out of here.”

“What about you, miss?”

“It’s a long story, but I can’t leave, not yet. Harry and Ron are in the cellar, I can show you how to get there.”

“Dobby knows his way to the cellar.” The elf lowers his voice.

"Thank you, Dobby." Rosanna leans down to kiss his cheek. "Tell Harry, Rosanna sent you. Tell him I'm sorry, for everything."

"I'll tell them, Ms. Rosanna." Dobby agrees, any friend of Harry's is a friend of his.

The elf disapparates into the cellar. Rosanna grabs her wand and sets off to find Draco. Harry and Ron are now free, having fought their way back up to the main floor with Dobby’s help.

Rosanna finds herself on the opposite end of Hermione’s wand. They stare at each other for a beat too long.

“Rosanna!” A voice, dueling in the distance, warns.

In a panic, Rosanna casts a healing charm.

Hermione returns the gesture.

They put on a good show, before Hermione finally disarms her. In the chaos, only she and Rosanna know that's all she's done.

"Ahh!" Rosanna howls, falling to the ground clutching her belly.

"What is it, darling? Is it the baby?" Narcissa is beside her in an instant, abandoning her post.

"Something's wrong." Rosanna lies.

"We'll call the midwife straight away." Lucius assures her, appearing only a second later.

Everyone but Draco and Bellatrix have stopped firing curses at the golden trio.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Draco demands, as he and Harry wrestle over his wand. Over powering Potter for just a second, he leans down to whisper. "Knock me off, take the wand and go."

Harry listens, they disapparate with Dobby, but not before Bellatrix throws her knife into the mix.

————————————————————————-

The midwife arrives shortly after, checking Rosanna over. Deciding that the stress might have caused a bout of false labor pains, and orders her a weeks bed rest with increased fluids.

Draco waits on her hand and foot, playing his part well. He quite enjoys doting on her and the growing baby in her belly.

As soon as Ro is cleared for regular activity, she and Draco spend the night in the kitchen. Making tacos the muggle way, the way Rosanna's grandmother had taught her when she was just a little girl.

"Why is this so bloody good?" Draco says in disbelief, diving another chip into the guacamole.

Rosanna is seated atop the cool granite island, contently swinging her feet. The platinum haired boy in the high rise chair to her left. "I told you. The baby likes tacos." Rosanna notes, feeling the infant practically doing flips in her belly.

"Course he does, he's my son." Draco grins at her, moving to his feet to have a feel.

"Everyone keeps saying boy. How do you know?" She cocks her blonde head to the side.

"The last ten generations of Malfoy have only a single male heir. Truthfully, I'd be just as happy with a girl. I do worry though, that they'll have an accent." Of course he wasn't actually concerned. Draco could listen to her speak, uninterrupted, for days on end.

"I don't have an accent." Rosanna bats at him.

"This estate will be ours someday. I'd like to fill it." Draco confesses, stealing a bite from his abandoned taco.

"You want more kids?" It isn’t something that’s ever come up.

"Not straight away. But after a while," he nods. "I want everything with you. A proper wedding, a home filled with our children, their laughter. Pets, if they please you. Holidays in America, show our children where their mother is from, why she talks funny. Send our children off to Hogwarts and take pride in whichever house they're sorted into. We can grow old together, we can be happy together."

"I'd like that." Rosanna decides.

"Can I tell you something else?" Draco asks, drumming his free hand against her knee.

"Mhm." Rosanna hums, around a mouth full of taco shell.

"I was never truly happy until I met you." He confesses.

"That’s not true.” Rosanna rolls her brown eyes.

"I know you hate me going on about it." Draco grins, looking down at his hands. "But being with you, eating tacos that we made, on a stove, which I hadn't the slightest idea how to work... You make me feel like I can do anything. You never make me feel daft for having to learn. No one's ever done that for me. Only you."

It still startles him, the depth of his love for her, the way it never seemed to bottom out. How he would look at her with absolutely certainty that he couldn't love her anymore than he did at that moment and then somehow he always did.

"That's because I love you," Rosanna says, before bursting into tears, "dumbass." She adds for good measure.

Part 4

[oddlittlestories]

Techies of tumblr, I ask for your wisdom

I need a new laptop and I am struggling. Specs are one thing, but I need it to be reasonably portable and actually good.

To be clear, and because y’all love a good story, I own two Mac computers. A desktop from 2013 that still works reasonably well for being ancient af and a laptop from 2014 whose battery swelled and currently lives in a drawer. Due to repairability, I want to get a PC. I want to own my next computer as long as I can. To be clear, I was using the laptop for video editing in 2022, and as my primary text editor and web surfer this year. When I say, “as long as I can,” I mean it.

The last laptop I tried to buy technically met my specs. I returned it the next day. It was already glitching and the battery lasted less than three hours.

Three. Hours.

All I was doing was scrolling the web.

It needs to be able to do image editing / digital art, audio editing, text editing. Video editing a plus.

intel core i7 or AMD Ryzen 7 CPU.

1 or 2 TB storage. (I do use external disk drives. Do not tell me not to use external disk drives. In the immortal words of Ron Swanson, I know what I’m about, son.)

16 GB of ram.

A nice graphics card would help me with all that art.

Preferably not massive.

Thanks in advance for your wisdom.

[kdo-three]

Bobby Freeman - Do You Want to Dance (1958) Bobby Freeman from: "Do You Want to Dance"/ "Big Fat Woman" (Single) "Do You Want to Dance" (LP)

R&B | Rock and Roll

JukeHostUK (left click = play) (320kbps)

Personnel: Bobby Freeman: Vocals / Keyboards unknown: Bongos/Congas Billy Mure: Guitar (New York City Overdub)

Produced by Jim “Specs” Hawthorne

Recorded: @ The Sound Recorders Studios in San Francisco, California USA 1958

Overdubbed with Session Musicians in New York City, New York USA 1958

Released March, 1958 Josie Records (US) Jubilee Records (Album/US/Canada)

Hoodoo Records 2013 CD Reissue Remaster

♪♪♪ ♪♪♪ ♪♪♪

Bobby Freeman was 17 when he wrote and recorded "Do You Want to Dance"

(Bobby Freeman's 'Do You Want to Dance') … is one of the great pieces of '50s R&B/Rock and Roll …" - Ron Wynn (AllMusicCom)

[ronmanmob]

HI HI HI i had a quick question,,

so i recently got a hold of charlie's autobiography and i'm on chapter five. charlie was talking about the huge switcharoo reggie and ronnie pulled off when ron was in long grove and he was talking about how ron gave reggie "his glasses"... i was just wondering do you have any idea when ron got his glasses? i feel like it was likely between the time he'd been incarcerated for gbh... right? i dunno. i never see people actually say WHEN ... my guess is like his mid 20s? but idk. anyways THAT'S IT ... sorry for this super long ask ILYSM TY

Ahoy there fren!

Ronnie was in Long Grove around 1958 so sources say, and since he was born in 1933 he'd have been 24-ish then. 24-25. As you say, he definitely had them then and had begun wearing them regularly enough that they became part of his image. He did have them before that though, and likely picked his first pair up as soon as the wartime shortages eased up after World War II ended. Like most young lads though, he didn't fancy wearing them much then. Hence-

Young man without specs :3

Incidentally, and thinking of Reg getting hold of 'em-

THAT....is not Ron.