#hoot wireless...

[skittleswonders]

You gotta drill this stuff into god's heads.

[tequitoclown]

I set my phone notification sound to this and it has been an experience. HOOT WIRELESS.

[apalapucian]

1:31 AM

they moved the bed by the window two weeks ago, for something to do, for harry to watch the birds from. for them to feel closer to the world as much as the house can afford them.

james used to put two-way soundproofing charms in his room, on the curtains around his four-poster. he needed the quiet to sleep, and he needed sleep to win the quidditch match the next day. lily used to put the wireless on to drown out the world, the more mellow weird sisters b-sides echoing in the background of her dreams.

now, they welcome the clatter. they eavesdrop on their neighbors, revel in them singing and fighting and discussing, live in the pauses of their lives, in their leaving the door and coming back home and settling back in. tonight, crickets chirp and an owl hoots close by, and lily closes her eyes in content, ventures back out to the world through these sounds. sinks further into james's embrace. her head on his chest and their hands laced together. new moon tonight, but the street light permeates the room through the window. half of james's arm is bright orange.

his gryffindor hoodie is old and soft and familiar. he is warm. he is home.

"the cat learned how to knead," she tells him, eyes still closed.

james shifts. "huh?"

"the cat made biscuits today. on the couch."

"out of nowhere? are you sure?" he asks, in awe and disbelief. "it's been two years!"

"i know."

"and we researched."

a lifetime ago: going to a muggle library in muggle clothes, lily finding him so fucking cute in that environment and feeling the need to kiss him every two seconds. but also reading there that cats who get taken too early from their mothers don't learn how to knead. that some cats just don't do it. they were worried about the cat (that's just the cat's name, sirius named him) not ever doing it, but it turned out it's normal. but today —

"i had the same reaction," she says. "he seemed hesitant at first, so i thought he was just scratching it again, but it was actual kneading! he did it, like, a good five minutes."

"did you watch the entire time?"

she chuckles. "i burned my lunch, yeah."

"i can't believe i missed that."

"i can burn it again tomorrow."

he reaches up to pinch her nose. "the cat."

"you needed to see sirius."

quieter: "i did, yeah." it was driving him crazy. the house, not being able to fight. she could tell. besides, she felt it, too.

"he'll do it again," she reassures him. "he did it quite a few times after that, before you came home."

"why do you think is he only doing it now? he has no one to learn from here."

"i don't know. maybe it took him two years to feel comfortable with us?"

"oh my god, he likes godric's hollow? he likes it so much he literally summoned his ancestral abilities?"

well, at least one of us likes it here, she thinks, but doesn't say. she laughs — he does, too — and then they go quiet, and she knows he's thinking the same. knows he also chooses not to say it.

"what did you have for lunch?" he remembers to ask, and it's when he does this, asks these mundane questions about her in a way that makes it seem like it's the most important, most interesting things in the world, that she feels the biggest about him. that she feels a sudden surge of optimism, like she's bigger than the prophecy, than the war.

she says, reeling from the intensity of it, trying to stay in the pace of the conversation, "bacon." she feels like laughing at the whiplash. sometimes she legitimately thinks she's going crazy. "and, um. the last of the sourdough from remus."

"we should ask him for some more. that was really good."

"agreed."

"you okay?" of course he notices.

"yeah. sorry. i'm just — feeling it again."

"the house?" which is to mean everything that comes with it. the dread. the frustration. the hopelessness and uncertainty and unfairness of it all.

"yeah."

he holds her tighter, presses a kiss on the top of her head. "it's not always going to be this way, lil." he's said it so many times. to his credit, the conviction has held up. james is home. james is home.

"i know," she says, even though she doesn't. not really. "i know."

"i'm sorry it's the way it is right now though."

"you're in it, too."

"i know. i'm sorry still."

"hey."

"hm?"

"i love you. you have no idea how much."

he reaches up a second time to tip her face up and kiss her.

in another universe they don't need the neighbors to fight and the crickets to fucking chirp just to feel sane. in another universe the night can be dead still and it is fine. they kiss in the silence and it is fine. he goes out to meet his best friend and lily doesn't need the cat to distract her from being a hair away from a panic attack the entire time he's away, almost crippled with worry, her thoughts spiraling into images of unseeing hazel eyes and broken spectacles. in another universe she loves him and he loves her back and they make out in his old school hoodie as husband and wife, as parents, and that is all there is to it.

"i love you, too," he says, "and i'll live my entire life trying to show you how much."

she chuckles a bit. "geez. it's not a competition."

he laughs, the sound reverberating through his chest, literally felt on her skin. "if it was, i'll win. you'll see."

she will, unfortunately.

but for now there's this, home in her palm and the entire world through the window, her heart soaring and breaking at the same time.

//

[read/subscribe on ao3]

[cuffmeinblack]

These Days Worth Living

Garreth Weasley

Tags: tooth rotting fluff | mentions of loss

1.6k words

Summary: As the first wizarding war draws to a close, Garreth spends time with his extended family and reflects upon his long and fulfilling life.

A/n: Here we go, my contribution to the Weasley Wednesday Christmas special and the conclusion to a timeline of Garreth's festive seasons. Fluffy, a little bittersweet and thoroughly heartwarming (I hope). Merry Christmas! Full collab masterlist here.

December, 1981

Garreth sat at the kitchen table listening to the wireless radio propped next to the stack of cards he’d yet to sign. The pile of ones he’d written was pitiful in comparison to those that still required his attention. If only the Weasley family wasn’t quite so large he’d have finished before lunch, or if he didn’t insist on writing personal and heartfelt messages in each one. He’d just finished cramming in an update to his nephew Septimus when his concentration was interrupted by a knock on the back door. Turning around in his chair and groaning slightly at the stiffness in his back (he was spritely for a man of one hundred and eight, but by no means a spring chicken), he was met with the bright freckled face of his daughter. He grinned and beckoned her in, casting a quick charm to unlock the door.

“Hello, sweetheart. What brings you here?”

“Just checking in…”

Matilda did a lot of checking in these days, though Garreth couldn’t say he minded. The family home that had once housed so many lay bare, with only Garreth to fill its many rooms. The moving photos of his loved ones could never replace their presence, especially that of his beloved life partner. It had been a long nine months since her passing, and not a day went by that he didn’t feel the painful longing caused by her absence.

“Writing Christmas cards?” Matilda asked as she sat next to him.

Garreth took her hand and nodded, finally placing the quill on the table for a break.

“Almost done,” he lied. “Cup of tea?”

Matilda nodded, jumping to her feet to prepare the kettle before Garreth could move an inch.

“Molly’s throwing a big celebration with Arthur, you know. They extended their house again…”

“How could they possibly extend it anymore?” Garreth chuckled.

“Well they had to when Ginevra was born.”

“I would like to see their little girl…”

Matilda nodded, pouring out two steaming cups of tea and laying them on the table, the smell of bergamot filling the room. Garreth hadn’t been much of a tea drinker before…well, before her.

“Then it’s settled. Let them see Great Uncle Garreth, dad.”

“Fine, fine. I wonder if Leander will be there? It’s been a while.”

“If they can fit the Prewetts in too, I’m sure they will.”

Garreth very much doubted that, but he couldn’t deny he was looking forward to a great big family gathering, even if he wasn’t the one to host it this year. He’d been isolated too long, kept away from the ones he loved through grief. That’s not what she would have wanted, especially now that the war was finally over. A raucous Christmas party seemed like a fitting celebration to mark the occasion. Perhaps it was time for Garreth to reintegrate with the Weasley clan, and revel in all the affection they had to offer.

-

Christmas day came with a whimper rather than a bang. For Garreth, he woke to an empty bed in an empty house, though the owls’ incessant hooting and tapping on the windows made it hard to sleep in. He spent the early morning reading cards, opening presents and cuddling Barney, his beloved labrador retriever. Whilst he felt his love’s absence more acutely today, he grinned through all the well-wishes and even the unexpected howler from Leander, confirming that unfortunately he wouldn’t be at the Weasley celebration later, but would love to get together in the new year. He’d ended the note reminding Garreth that he still owed him five galleons.

“Git,” Garreth chuckled.

Garreth arrived at The Burrow just before lunch, his neck craning in order to take in the teetering heights of their home; it was quite the magical feat. He’d barely taken two steps into the front garden before he was ambushed by a flurry of red hair, more shocking than his own.

“Great Uncle Garreth!”

There was no mistaking the twins, the lanky four year olds piling into his arms and knocking the presents he’d been clutching to the snow-strewn ground. Garreth chuckled and hugged the boys tightly, already wishing he’d taken the time to visit sooner. A few months may as well be a lifetime for young children.

“Hello Fred, George!” Garreth said, ruffling their ginger locks.

Most people struggled to tell the pair apart, but Garreth knew that Fred had a slightly crooked smile and George was the ever so slightly more mischievous twin with wider set eyes. Those blue eyes were trained upon Garreth with rapt attention as little hands pulled and pushed him towards the bustling house. 

“Molly, Merry Christmas!” he shouted to the host as he was guided into the kitchen. 

Yet more familiar faces greeted him and Garreth felt his heart swell. How he’d missed this; the noise; the chaos. His own son and daughters were first to embrace him, then Garreth’s grandchildren got their turn. He was almost thankful when he finally found a perch on the kitchen bench and Arthur greeted him with a glass of mulled wine.

“Arthur! How’s my favourite great-nephew?”

Arthur slapped Garreth on the back, a grin breaking onto his thin but still youthful face. After so many children (how many was it now, seven?), Garreth was still surprised by the energy he exuded.

“Fantastic! You must meet Ginny, she’s a treasure.”

“Later, Arthur, she’s just gone down for a nap. How are you, Garreth?” Molly asked, parting the crowds with her commanding presence.

“Well, Molly, thank you. And Merry Christmas. I’m glad I came.”

She didn’t give him that pitying look that others enjoyed bestowing on him; hers was one of only warmth, an unwritten invitation for company and a sympathetic ear. Garreth knew he could count on his family in his time of need, but what he needed now was a joyful Christmas. As if on cue, the twins were back, this time with their elder brothers in tow and a toddler bounding after them.

“William! Percy! Charlie! Mind the crockery!” their mother shouted.

The smaller redhead, Ronald, almost nosedived into Garreth’s lap as the boys all piled onto him and their father. And thus began the onslaught of questions. Garreth was in his element, regaling the boys with tales of his youth, even if they earned a few raised eyebrows from their mother. Fred and George in particular hung on to every word, their limited vocabulary seemingly no issue. Garreth made sure to add lots of exaggeration for their benefit as he gesticulated wildly.

“...and then the cauldron exploded, BOOM!” Professor Sharp was not impressed…earned me a month’s worth of detentions, but so worth it!”

The children cheered and asked for more stories, but once Fred started babbling about explosions, Molly swiftly brought an end to storytime and asked the children to wash up before their meal. Without the distraction of children, Molly thought it an opportune time to thrust a gift into Garreth’s hands. He’d not expected anything; he knew how hard up the family were, and after the toll the war had taken, he’d not expected anything but company this Christmas. He was rendered momentarily speechless, until he opened the parcel to find a handwritten cookery book, at which point he started to babble his thanks as he flipped through the pages.

“You know I think your presents are currently lying in the snow outside,” Garreth chuckled. “But nothing a good wash can’t fix.”

“Don’t worry, I picked them up after you,” Arthur said, pulling the parcels out of the stack behind him.

Garreth watched as the pair opened the wrappings, nervously awaiting their verdict. Molly was first to reveal her burgundy jumper with the gold ‘M’ knitted on the front.

“All handmade! I took up a new hobby…,” Garreth said bashfully.

“Oh, it’s lovely!”

Arthur nodded his agreement, already pulling on the navy blue jumper with his ‘A’ emblazoned on the front. Grinning somewhat smugly, Garreth clapped his hands.

“You’ll have to teach me how to knit,” Molly said, twirling around. “I mean it!”

“Of course!”

It wasn’t long before another drink was thrusted into Garreth’s hand and he was on the way to becoming merry even before lunch was served. The smell of roast Turkey and all the trimmings was making his mouth water, and the bowl of nuts he’d been dipping into just wasn’t cutting it. Before he could stand to source a delicious mince pie, a tiny cherubic face caught his eye and stopped him in his tracks. The darling sleeping baby lay cradled in his daughter’s arms as she weaved through the throng, gently stroking the tufty hair on top of her head.

“Is that Ginevra?” Garreth said, almost a whisper. 

She looked startling like Matilda as a baby. He couldn’t stop the well of tears in his eyes and the surge of affection for the girl he barely knew. The little girl was passed to Garreth without him even asking, and he accepted her with a smile. She stirred, grumbling and blinking awake as Garreth watched her intently. Her shocking red hair was but a few inches long, her dark brown eyes sparkling as they focused on his face. He just about melted onto the rickety old bench when Ginevra took his finger in her tiny hand and offered him a sleepy smile of her own.

“She’s darling,” Garreth commented. “Absolutely beautiful.”

Inevitably, the memories of his infant children prompted yet more recollections of that time in his life; a time when his dear wife had been by his side. The sadness threatened to overwhelm him, yet those tiny fingers gripped him tighter as if offering him a lifeline; a beautiful and innocent distraction which he held onto firmly. Garreth had been luckier than most, having spent decades of bliss with his soulmate; the love of his life. The children packed into every nook and cranny of the warm and welcoming Burrow were a reminder of his legacy, one which would continue to warm his heart with pride and love for the rest of his days.

[1-800-cuupid]

hoot wireless

[herbularis]

WOAH. IS THAT A VINNY VINESAUCE REFERENCE? IS HE… QUOTE ON QUOTE… SCOOTING THE BURBS??

// HOOT WIRELESS

[mmkin]

Shameless Wily simping fun... also, the next chapter of Forever Clockwork is done faster than I anticipated, so here's the link on AO3, the chapter is also included under the cut.

Content warning - None (some flirting, but teen safe/SFW)

(Yes, these are the scrubs described in the fic, my first time ever drawing scrubs. I obviously need more practice, but it was still a hoot to draw)

III

o0o0o0o

(Wily’s POV)

Wily glanced down at the tablet, occasionally tapping the screen as he looked at the design and schematics of the robot that was on the table before him.

Robots these days were designed with fail-safes or automatic shutdowns that were triggered by certain behaviors. For example, a maid-bot might not be able to go more than a designated amount of meters from a house before it receives a warning signal, and if it ignores said warning, it would power down automatically.

Another feature that was typical for a robot was a GPS, in case the robot was stolen. Robots could also be shut down with voice, wireless, or radio commands. Robots, especially ones programmed with AI, were pricey investments, and thus needed safeguards so that humans could protect their property.

The GPS had already been disabled by Shademan before the robot was taken out of the amusement park it had been built for. However, the brightly-colored robot remained inactive, having powered down shortly after it went beyond the borders of the park. Not surprising, really, and the mad scientist was prepared for that.

He set the tablet down and leaned over the robot, lifting the panel off its back with little effort. A network of complex circuitry met his eyes, but it did not intimidate him the least as he examined it, making mental notes about what to upgrade or change.

That was one thing he'd always found fascinating about technology. It was ever-changing and improving, and he could learn and benefit from it. With each line, his robots became better and stronger, and with everything he learned, he could go back and upgrade some of his older Numbers to increase their efficiency or power., or in this case, take other people's robots and give them his modifications. Any robot could be improved on. Unfortunately, the same could be said about Megaman, but eh. Dr. Light and the blue robot were pushed out of his mind as he focused on his current task.

Wily lifted the helmet off the robot, revealing the circuitry located within its head. With deft hand movements that spoke of long experience in this particular process, the doctor hooked up wires to certain parts of the circuitry that made up the robot's mind and personality. This was a precaution he took every time he significantly modified or upgraded a Robot Master. Once the memory was backed up in his computer, he got to work, removing the GPS, the power override, and other devices that this 'bot's creators had installed to impede its freedom.

It took a bit of time to figure out what sort of weapon to give the robot. However, looking at the long, flexible arms of this robot gave him the idea to use their unique qualities to this robot's advantage. He did these robots a great service by maximizing their potential. Too bad the world could not see that. Such was the lot of a mad genius...

o0o0o0o

A Decade Ago, 200X

The first series of Robot Masters was already well underway. DLWN-003 through 005 were just about done, and 006-008 were all more than halfway through. Albert was rather proud of himself, but then who wouldn't be? He and Thomas had come a long way since their university days, and so had technology. When the first AI robot had been created by the two of them, it was very limited in its capabilities and most people did not see the use or benefit of their work. But then, look at the first automobile or the first computer. If people had thrown up their arms and not wished to work more on these inventions, then who knows where the world would be today?

“To a job well done, Albert," Thomas said as he raised his mug of coffee. Albert grinned and raised his own before he glanced at the television screen. Their work had brought them much recognition, and soon, would bring them an award. They had already won several for their work in the field of robotics, but the Technology Award was almost basically the Noble Prize of Science.

The head of the council, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, rose from his seat. He had won last year's award and had also replaced the former leader of the council when he retired.

“As history shows, man has been very creative in his use of technology, and seeking ways to advance it. We are very fortunate to live in a new century, and not just that, but a new millennium. Man has been able to utilize technology in the last century that would have been unthinkable in the entire course of human history.”

“Get on with it," Albert muttered before he took another swig of his coffee. He had disliked Dr. Cooper upon meeting him, finding the other scientist to be a blowhard at times. To receive his award from this man... feh.

“This year's Technology Award goes to someone who is known as the father of robotics.” Father? Albert frowned at that as Dr. Cooper continued, "And without him, robotics would probably still belong in the realm of science fiction. I am pleased to announce that this year, Thomas Light is the winner of the Technology Award!"

Albert and his partner stared at the television for several moments, waiting for Dr. Cooper to realize his mistake, or for someone else to correct him on his omission. There was a round of polite applause from the other members before Dr. Cooper announced that he would fly to Light Labs and present Light with the award himself.

“What the...!” He rose to his feet, glaring at the screen, his knuckles white as his mug slightly shook.

“Albert, I am sure it was an honest mistake, I will explain it to him. You deserve that award as much as I do, and we both know it.” Thomas put his hand on his partner's arm to calm him.

o0o0o0o

Now

The mad scientist wiped his brow after he adjusted the tightness of the coils that he had added to the robot's flexible arms. When he took robots created by someone else, he preferred to keep the external design changes to a minimum and work with the robot instead of against it. It had taken him some time to decide how to optimally weaponize the clown-themed robot, but studying the arms had given him a sudden burst of inspiration.

He had retrofitted the insides of the arms with flexible Tesla coils, enabling the production of electricity and the ability to use it as a weapon. His work on DWN-060 was almost complete. The previously installed safeguards and controls that enabled this robot's original creators or owners to control him had all been removed. His memory had been uploaded to the new brain and installed within the head cavity.

He sat back on his stool, basking in the glow of a job well done. He still enjoyed building his robots and challenging himself with new designs, like he was doing now for DWN-057, but there was a perverse sort of pleasure in stealing the robots of others and giving them freedom and his enhancements. Now, only if it were as easy to enhance the human body... He grinned to himself dryly as he stretched, feeling his old bones creak a bit as he did so.

o0o0o0o

(You)

You set the weapon down, running your finger lightly along one of its planes and looking at the three green blades, having followed Wily's blueprint and putting the pieces together. It was easy to get lost in the work, and doubtless, that was partly from starting a new job and doing something that was a challenge.

But oh, how your back aches from being hunched over the project. So you back away from the table, stretching out your arms and legs as you pace the large room, where several other tables sit with various projects including a new Robot Master. You wander over to it, slowly circling it as you study his work. Most of it is assembled already, though a casual observer would see several pieces missing or incomplete.

It's over seven feet tall and near it is a red facepiece with a long, pointed nose. Much of one arm was missing, and you blink when you realize the weapon you'd just been working on was intended to be part of that arm. So now, apparently, officially you helped to build a Wily Number? You lean in, finding the number that identifies it as DWN-057.

Well, now you’re curious to see your work in action. You smirk to yourself and startle when you turn around and see Shadow Man. You wonder if he’s ever startled Wily the same way.

“Forgive me for startling you,” the ninja-bot says as he bows his head.

“No harm done. Is there a problem?” you ask.

“Nothing at all. How goes your task?”

“Almost done. I just needed to stretch out.”

“Father is almost done with his work, and he says you can stop and clean up. Dinner will be in half an hour.”

“Oh, cool. Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“I'm curious... you have free will, right? You're free to do as you want go where you please, unless I assume wrong.”

“No, you are correct.”

“You have your own... hobbies, interests, predilections? Did these come about on their own?”

“Yes. That is how it is for all of us. Father designs us with different tasks and occupations in mind, as you can see by our bodies, but as far as personalities go, we develop our own. Not all of us were created by him but are loyal to him.”

“Why do you serve Wily, then? You are a powerful robot and could do nearly anything you wanted.”

He looks at you curiously for a moment, thinking quietly for nearly a minute before speaking.

“Because we love him, and we believe in his cause. He wants to make robots equal to humans, not slaves. He wants to blur that line, the line between human and machine to the point where we can't be treated like objects. We have souls, we have feelings, others can't see that, can't hear it, or won't try to understand us.” he said quietly, his words baring a conviction more convincing than any human you’d heard in a long time.

“When I first met him, we talked about the possibility of robots having souls. This was right before the first line of Masters came out, mind you. Everyone around me, except for Albert and Thomas, of course, thought that a robot could never have a soul. People scoffed at the idea. But Mega Man came along and… A lot has happened since then.”

“That is true. We are loyal to him because he cares for us. If we get damaged, he takes the time to repair and upgrade us instead of discarding us. We are his sons, whether he built us himself or rescued us.”

It’s heartwarming to hear a robot speak so passionately, and you stare at him quietly. He takes your silence as skepticism and adds, “You can choose to believe me or not, but I am confident in the truth. Many condemn his actions, simply because they don't understand him or us. He stands against the world. And we stand with him.”

“I believe you,” you reply.

For lunch, there are deluxe sandwiches with a tasty ingredient you had almost forgotten the taste of. You haven’t had one of these since… Fuck, really, you ask yourself as you smell the tantalizing scent of the hot ingredients in the sandwich, finding yourself on a cruise down memory lane. Amazing what little details he remembers. You'd always figured he was much more focused on his work, like the stereotypical male who forgets the details while his partner is the one who remembers all the little things. But he'd remembered your favorite colors. And you two had talked about science fiction in the past, and he remembered the particular titles you mentioned as your favorites.

Wait, he’s not your partner. He’s your mentor and boss. You look at the table, where the sandwiches sit, waiting to be enjoyed.

“When was the last time you had one of these?” he asked, gesturing to the sandwiches. The smell envelops you in a pleasant memory.

“That would be when you informed me I was getting an A for the semester,” comes your reply.

He blinked. “Really?”

“I'd never had that type of sandwich until you made me one, either," you admit as you take one of the stools and sit down. You take a bite of your sandwich, letting the taste of well-seasoned ingredients explode in your mouth. Yeah, that's some good stuff. You remember when you'd shared this in his lab, it was your final semester and not long before Wily went rogue. Since you spent a fair amount of time in his lab, sometimes he provided you with food. One day, it'd been these sandwiches, ordered from some nearby local place. They'd been pretty damn good. He sits across the table from you and starts on his food, and the two of you munch away contentedly.

He’s not made any overt moves. Most talk is about either work or the hobbies you share. He’s been a gentleman, and you’re happy about that, but a bit let down. There’s an occasional teasing or snarky comment, and you wonder if you’re just being impatient, or oblivious, or something. You’ve dated a few times, but nothing ever panned out in the long run. What might dating Wily be like? Would that make things awkward, or would it turn out to be a meeting of both minds and bodies?

“So how was your day? I trust you had no problems in the lab.” you hear him say.

“Everything was just fine, thank you. I had all the things I needed and I'm almost done with DWN-057's arm.”

“Since you were able to identify who you were making the weapon for, I take it you looked at the rest of him. What did you think?”

“I am impressed," you admit, seeing the flicker of pleasure in his eyes at her admission. "You've come a long way since the DLWN Numbers. I'm almost jealous of you."

He sat back, a smug grin on his face. “Jealous? Why would that be?”

“You have your lab and army of robots to bring you all the materials you need. You're pretty much free to do as you please, you don't have the constraints that law-abiding scientists have to deal with."

He let out a pleased laugh at that. “Living on the wrong side of the law has its benefits.”

“As I can see.” You wave a hand to indicate your surroundings, “I know Dr. Light isn't too proud of what he had to do to get funding to build his lab.”

Wily nodded. Light Labs was a huge undertaking, and to get funding for that, Thomas Light and his partner had taken several contracts with the military. He had been compensated well for his work, but you and Wily knew that it weighed heavily on Light that his genius had been used in war machines. He tried to ease his conscience by building robots designed to help humanity, but that part of his past still haunted him.

“Sometimes you do what you have to. It was not pleasant for Thomas, but it benefited him in the long run," he replied.

You nod slowly. You could easily understand the time and effort it took to build Rock and his sister. What was harder to grasp – at least for the layman – was how much funds it took to not only build these two but the funds needed just for the research into AI and advanced robotics. Dr. Light had also grown attached to his first Robot Master, known initially as Blues before he became Proto Man.

“I guess you felt like you had to leave Light Labs and do...”

“I did," he replied in all seriousness.

“It was a pretty damned ballsy move.”

He grinned widely at that, wiggling his eyebrows. “You're right, it was. But dreams are not accomplished by the meek.”

“Ha. I suppose not.”

“What are your dreams?” he asked. You glance at him, and he continues. “You didn't study robotics just so you could build robots for other people. What do you hope to accomplish?”

You’re not sure. It’d be pretty cool to design your own Robot Master. Cybernetics was also another interest to you, as its current applications were relatively limited due to the barrier between machine and flesh. You have another idea milling around, but despite your time with Wily, you’re hesitant to share your idea with one of the world’s most wanted criminals. You regard him with a thoughtful frown.

“What if I gave you time and space for your research?" he asks. Your eyes widen as you struggle to control your reaction. He grins at you, knowing he has your interest.

“Come now. I'm giving you the chance to get to work on your dream. I can provide you with the materials you need. And you've seen for yourself that there's plenty of space. So if there's an idea rolling around in that pretty little head of yours, I don't doubt it's a good one."

Well. You’re not immune to a well-placed stroke of the ego, are you?

“I remember you talking back then about how nice it would be to be able to upgrade a human body like you could for a robot…" Back then, it was an impossible dream, but as robotics advanced and cybernetics had a few promising developments, it seemed more possible that in the future, the two might become integrated. Possibly cybernetic organs, or a whole new body. You saw how sophisticated robotics has become since its inception. Hell, look at how cell phones were back then, compared to the smartphones of today.

You’d made notes, run test programs, and the like but you’d never had the chance or space to test it out fully.

“You didn't spend all that time just working on other people's projects, did you?” you hear him ask. You quickly look back at him.

“How come you didn't ask me to work for you back then?” you ask.

“I was just starting out. I was new at the villain thing and I didn't want to get you in trouble or risk you being harmed," he said calmly. "I respect you too much for that, and, I'd be a shitty teacher and mentor if I let a student get hurt."

“Hmph.” You give him a brief nod to show you accept his answer.

“As you can see, I am very well-established. I know what I'm doing now, and I can keep you safe. And let you work on your research. Course, I would need to know what you wanted to do…”

“Well…” You lean back, crossing your arms, appraising him. Can you trust him?

“What is it?” he asked, interest all too obvious in his tone.

“I did get a lot of work done. But it's mainly notes and research along with designs. Without a lab of my own, I could only do so much in the way of a physical product."

“I assume you have enough notes and research to start work immediately.”

“I do."

“I would be disappointed if you didn't," he commented. You smirk back at him.

“You seem to have a lot of faith in me even though I haven't made a big name of myself like Mikhail Cossack or Noelle Lalinde."

“I saw your potential in college, and there's nothing wrong with avoiding the limelight. You get more done when you’re not prancing in front of the cameras or trying to be careful to not piss people off.”

You throw your head back and laugh at that before you sober up, thinking about your research and what Wily could do if he got his hands on it. It’s not weaponry, but could enhance existing weapons. You’ve seen the remains of the Stardroids he managed to salvage and wonder what you might learn if he allowed you to examine the alien technology. You grin, deciding to try a bit of a Wily maneuver.

“I’ll tell you about my project, but I want to examine the Stardroid parts you have,” you offer.

“Think you can make a deal with me?” he asks with a grin. You calmly nod. “I’ll take it, at least this once.” He extends his hand for a shake, and you don’t hesitate to grab it. His hands feel like what you’d expect – bony but muscular. It’s also pleasingly warm and dry, and a thrill passes through your body at the contact, because thus far, Wily has given you space.

As you expect, there is quite a bit to learn from the Stardroids, and you see a couple of practical possibilities emerging from the Stardroids’ unique abilities. And while you’re looking at them, he explains how he’d already used some of the technology to improve Shadow Man, giving him Saturn’s teleporting ability so that the ninja-bot was able to teleport you safely to Wily’s lab – something that wasn’t supposed to be possible for organic matter because of its difference from data (which was why advanced robots like Mega Man could teleport, but not humans or animals)

You've been wondering about that since you came here. "That's fucking genius," you say in response to that. He grins knowingly and you're pretty sure he's puffing out his chest a little.

It was still a huge drain on Shadow Man, so he had to use that ability sparingly, Wily explains. Still, that sort of feat shows you that others are possible, including your own.

“One must be prepared to adapt. I am always willing to learn more, and there is plenty to learn from the Stardroids." He sounded like he had in the old days when he was giving a lecture. You notice he's standing close to you. Not indecently so, but as a fellow scientist examining the same thing as you. You decide to test the waters a bit and move closer to him, your shoulders just touching. He does not move away. You stay where you are, and so does he when the two of you are looking at the part, examining it under magnifying lenses, and listening to the observations he'd made. He points your attention to something and you feel his hand on your back, touching lightly. You have to remember to breathe and keep your hand steady because holy fuck, your pulse has picked up so quickly that you're almost dizzy.

You didn't realize that being here, in close quarters to him, was causing tension to build up. He used to be your teacher and mentor, now he's your boss. You don't want to jeopardize this relationship, but fuck, he's such a silver fox, and at this point, you're 99.9 percent certain he has… something for you. After all, hadn’t he remembered these little details about you?

So you take a deep breath and relax, letting him keep his hand right where it is as you lean to get a better look at what he’s pointing out. You chat a little over it before you stand back up, and he pulls his hand away.

“So there you have it. You can have access to this lab anytime, but first…” He raises his eyebrows. You take a deep breath, wondering what he’ll think of it.

“You could call it a self-repair matrix, I suppose. You know how cybernetics as a technology is still limited because flesh and machine don't exactly mesh well." There are limited examples, to be sure. Cochlear implants, robotic hands, pacemakers, and the like. Technology has come a long way, but the bridge between flesh and robotics is still a ways off. "It's a healing system for a robot meant to stimulate what a human does to heal themselves. It's more for internal technology, but I don't see why it can't also apply externally, with enough time and development. And hopefully, that can also help with meshing with a human body more efficiently."

“I knew you had to be cooking up something good, and I am intrigued.” His smile is enthusiastic.

“The issue with the program is that it has to be customized for each robot. Kind of like DNA. Each Robot Master is unique, so the program would have to have its specs added to it before installation. Once installed, the robot would need less maintenance than before, and some of the damage could be repaired by the program. It also helps to preserve memories, should the brain itself become somehow damaged."

“I like it. I definitely like it.” He tugs his mustache thoughtfully as he stares at you, and you regard him with a modest but pleased smile.“You will need a Robot Master to test it on and make sure it works.”

“It does. At least, when I tested it.”

He raised his eyebrow. “How? On one of the robots you built for others?”

“No way! But I did test it on my computer and a discarded robot brain. They were successful, and I anticipate the same results for a robot of Master-level, but it would take longer to make one matrix since there's more data to integrate into it."

“I look forward to seeing you build it. Let me know what you need.”

Boom. Just like that, your employer has essentially offered you a blank check. You pause as you realize that some of your supplies are likely going to be stolen.

If there was a better real-life example of ‘making a deal with the devil’ than what you had just gotten into, you’d be hard-pressed to imagine it.

“You look worried, Y/n. Is something the matter?" he asks. You huff softly, looking down at the table with the Stardroid parts illuminated under lights and magnifying lenses. So far, you haven't mentioned anything about the legal ramifications. And you hadn't done anything illegal so far. You weren't stealing things, taking over locales and terrorizing the locals, or shaking down governments for money.

Nah, you were just working for a mad scientist who did do all of these things, and technically, you could be considered an accomplice for assisting in the construction of a Robot Master. Now, if you asked for it, he’d steal for you.

You place your hands on your hips as you study your boss (and object of your desire) and decide to be honest.

“We both know what's going on here is illegal. You do not need to fear me snitching on you. And I am grateful for this opportunity, believe me. It's… exciting, and thrilling. I'm having a ton of fun here." You see his eyes light up at that, and you continue, "But I can't help but wonder if I made a deal with the devil."

At that, his grin becomes devilish indeed. “Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven!”

[blakyoo]

Hoot Wireless Hoot Wireless

[kemihaydeestantonva]

I have two words

Hoot

Wireless

The exception is cheesy local commercials. Those should be the only ads. I will listen to someone who runs a store in my city doing an awkward rap. We once had a furniture store with these awful CGI ads and the slogan "where the deals are so low, it's almost criminal!" and then they got shut down, by the cops, because it turned out. It turned out the deals were so low because. You're not going to believe this but the prices were so low it was in fact

[yellowtansies]

⌜ sabrina carpenter, cisfemale, she/her, ⌟ welcome back to hogwarts, TANSY TWILIGHT ! according to your file, you’re a TWENTY-FIVE year old HALF BLOOD as i’m sure you remember, last spring had its challenges, but i’m confident you’ll take your studies more seriously this year. as a SEVENTH year HUFFLEPUFF, focusing on HISTORY OF MAGIC, you’ve got a lot on your plate. our records show that you're SWEET and OUTSPOKEN however, they seem to have left off that you're BRAZEN and LOQUACIOUS. if i’m correct, you’re siding with THE LIGHT , which makes sense considering you’re known around the castle for the gentle chirp of baby chicks, the sound of a brook babbling across smooth rocks, the scream before your body hits the water with a splash, the rev of a four wheelers engine, the hoots and hollers of a pasture party as dusk sets in, sunflowers moving in the breeze against the backdrop of a clear blue sky. let’s hope you make it through the year in one piece.

statistics // tag dump // pinterest

if you know anyone you know tansy twilight

a school socialite and one of the only foreigners tansy has been at hogwarts since she was 18 and has been a well known hufflepuff because of bubbly southern disposition

her mother was a pureblood and her father a muggle

she was born and raised in madison, georgia and will not hesitate to tell you if you cant already hear it.

the brightest smile in the galaxy, will talk to anyone

has run for many student councils and student government positions and won.

known to remember everyone's names and for her southern charm and hospitality as well as cooking.

she is the middle of 5 children, being the only girl and was heavily spoiled and treated like it

growing up she was really close to her mother, she taught her and her brothers everything they know about witchcraft and wizardry

her mother was well versed in traditional witchcraft, charms, manifestations, deity work, crystals etc.

openly a witch her mother often was the subject of ridicule of their small town, leading for their family to move out into a big yellow and white southern style home on the outskirts of the city. it was large and old and the seven of them ran around it and their farm living in their own little world.

tw:// s*xual assault her move to the madison high school from another small town school after a sa. her brothers handled it and they had to get out of dodge, but its something tansy is still dealing with to this day, which her bubbly and open personality to mask it is a testament of

growing up with brothers made tansy tough, she isn't afraid of getting down and dirty or any little critters and often is the one getting rid of pests humanely in the hufflepuff dormitory

wizarding wireless president and known for her smooth southern drawl on the schools radio airways.

when she was thirteen her mother was killed in a burglary gone wrong, to which until this day tansy believes is linked to them being witches and wizards.

for the rest of her life she grew up as the singular girl in her home, and outside of her wardrobe it shows

brazen and bold and sure of herself, never really takes no as an answer if it has to do with her abilities

is seen in cowboy boots or no shoes, no in between.

her magic specializes in working with special forces to enhance her charms and potions.

is a big book reader and LOVES history and literature. because her mom was so knowledgeable about her people it let tansy into wanting to dig more into the research or history of witchcraft and wizardry which lead to her current major

is in dueling club because it makes her feel like she's at home with her brothers again.

loves getting down and dirty, will play in the mud or go dance in the rain.

misses her farm dearly

brought her two snakes and a piglet named itsy with her to school. (yes she caught the snakes and delivered the pig herself.)

all in all she's a super bubbly girl, the definition of the color yellow and gives off the vibe of the girl everybody knows even if they aren't close. she's outrageously kind, but morally grey as she can understand the meaning behind certain behaviors. shes got some religious

[strawberryamanita]

Hoot Wireless

[carpsyche30]

The New Kia Seltos 2023 offers a triumphant mix of reasonableness, strong execution and solace in a smaller and very much fabricated bundle. Its base motor could be more grounded, yet this worth pressed little Kia fights at a surprisingly high level in practically every classification.

indeed, the KIA Seltos 2023 is a generally excellent SUV. It accompanies a decision of two eco-friendly powertrains, however the base motor can feel underpowered on the roadway. The inside is great and extensive, and the freight region is sizeable thinking about the vehicle’s little impression. Ride and taking care of elements are great, however the Seltos 2023 isn’t particularly exciting to drive. At long last, the Kia’s infotainment framework is not difficult to utilise and has a powerful arrangement of accessible elements.

The 2023 Kia Seltos merits a search for any individual who needs a balanced, upmarket and extensive subcompact SUV. However, there’s solid contest in this consistently developing fragment. In the event that tomfoolery driving elements are vital to you, the Hyundai Creta is an enticing possibility. It’s not quite as roomy as the Seltos, and its infotainment framework isn’t as easy to understand, yet the

New Seltos 2023 is a hoot to take around corners and flaunts perhaps of the most delightful lodge in the class. For a more affordable and remarkably styled option in contrast, the Kia Seltos gives a significant number of similar elements in a square shaped bundle. It’s not as pleasant within as the Seltos, be that as it may, and all-wheel drive isn’t accessible. On the off chance that you really want more freight room, both the Skoda Kushaq and Volkswagen Taigun have bigger limits than then New Kia Seltos 2023.

Kia Seltos 2023 on Road Price Starting with Rs 11.40 Lakhs to 19.80 Lakhs.

The Kia Seltos HTE 2023 Starting Price will Rs 10.89 Lakhs for the Kia Seltos 2023 base Model. It accompanies standard all-wheel drive and a 8-inch screen infotainment framework with cell phone network.

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Kia Seltos HTX 2023 Price Starting Rs 15 Lakhs have Additional Features like 10.25 inch screen, All LED Lamp Setup and 17 inch Alloy wheels.

The Kia Seltos GT-line 2023 Price Starting Rs 19.45 Lakhs accompanies the super four motor, all-wheel drive and trim-selective things like an eight-speaker Bose sound System and ventilated front seats DCT Gear Box, 17 inch diamond cut alloy wheels with ride outline. GT Line has a Twin Tip Exhaust system and it can be changed by after market if you’re Looking For some good Dual Exhaust Muffler tips check this out.

The Kia Seltos X-Line 2023 Rs 19.75 Lakhs which recovers standard all-wheel drive, alongside a 195-pull super four motor and remarkable styling components.

Expected Launch Date of Kia 2023 Seltos is October to November 2023

what’s the difference IN New KIA Seltos 2023?

The New kia Seltos 2023 gets a few critical updates. There’s invigorated styling for both the inside and outside styling, including a more forceful looking front end. The discretionary super four motor gets 20 extra torque, and an eight-speed programmed transmission replaces the double grip programmed.

Additionally, the updated infotainment framework acquires an accessible touch screen and computerised check group cluster that traverses almost 2 feet across the scramble. At last, the new X-Line model replaces the Sunset Version trim. The X-Line includes more rough outside styling with shut down haggles.

Who are the Competition of New KIA Seltos 2023?

The Upcoming Car Honda Elevate is major areas of strength for an in the subcompact SUV class, and it imparts a few positive characteristics to the Seltos.

The two vehicles have awesome and extensive insides, simple to-utilise infotainment frameworks and nice ride-and-dealing with elements. The Honda Elevate has a to some degree underpowered motor, and dissimilar to with the Kia, you can’t decide on a more grounded powertrain. The Elevate likewise has somewhat more regrettable efficiency and less freight room than the Seltos.

What is Kia Seltos 2023 top model price?

The Price of New Kia Seltos 2023 is Starting 11.40 Lakh and The Price of Top Model is GT Line 19.75 Lakhs.

is Seltos Kia 2023 Spacious and Comfortable?

The New KIA Seltos 2023 seats five individuals. The first column seats give adequate solace and backing, and there’s a lot of head-and legroom on offer. The back column is short on legroom, yet grown-ups can in any case go back there on little excursions with few grumblings. The Seltos’ wide windows assist the lodge with feeling more roomy, as well.

New Kia Seltos 2023 have Child Seat?

There are two finished sets of Hook connectors for the back detachable seats and a tie anchor for the back centre seat. The lower secures are set too profoundly in the seats, however this Hook framework is generally simple to utilise.

Where did KIA Seltos 2023 Built?

It Built in South Korea First After that it comes to various Cities

KIA Seltos 2023 Kerb Weight?

The New KIA Seltos 2023 is 14.4 feet long. Its check weight goes from 2,936 to 3,362 pounds, and its gross vehicle weight rating is 3,925 to 4,256 pounds

[pancakes4two]

baby please come home

happy holidays everyone! i wanted to write something short for @watchmegetobsessed​‘s fanficmas to close out the year. i’ve had the best time writing a bunch of concepts these last few months so... here is an ode to the first harry i wrote this year & the most recent 💗 enjoy!

preview: Harry disappears from public view until January, wanting to close out the year in private. He does, however, decide to share a photo of the three of you sitting under the tree on Christmas. You’re grinning at the camera, leaning close to Harry. Beau is sitting in your lap, fuzzy antlers sitting atop his head. His entire body is turned towards Harry, big brown eyes glittering as he stares as his dad and reaches for him with tiny hands. Harry’s smiling so wide his eyes may as well be closed, his face flush with nothing but pure joy.

He captions the photo: Christmas Morning. Harry’s House. December, 2022. It gets 10 million likes in 24 hours.

MASTERLIST | TALK TO ME

1. christmas with dadrry (from this blurb!)

Harry is playing his last show of 2022 when he decides to have a little fun. He’s been in Brazil for the past couple of days, closing out the Latin American leg of Love on Tour. Three stops ago in Argentina, he’d sent you and your son off on a plane home to London. With the two of you now being 5,000 miles away, he can’t help but ache for home a little more than usual, despite the fact that he’ll be joining you at home soon. A sign at the barricade reminds him of this fact, as he prepares to give a speech to lead into his encore.

“So…” Harry says, popping out his hip dramatically, “Before we move on to our last couple of songs, there’s a sign up at the front here that I want to address.”

The arena explodes in chatter as a spotlight comes down from above, searching for the flashy poster board. Harry squints and twists his microphone cord between his fingers, (he mentally notes that next year will be the year he finally starts using a wireless mic) and points when he manages to spot the sign he had noticed earlier.

“Right, this sign says,” Harry pauses as a cameraman beside him zooms in on the sign, projecting it onto the large screens behind the stage. “We came here for Y/N and no-one else.”

The crowd bursts into collective laughter and hoots, and Harry sees a few phone shoot up in the front row, eager to capture the obvious fan interaction that’s about to take place. He walks closer to the edge of the stage, and kneels down directly in front of the two fans that had brought the sign.

“Let me just start by saying how could you,” Harry brings a hand to his chest, squeezing his fist and trying his best to school his expression into one of dramatic anguish. One of the fans belly-laughs, while the other takes his reaction more to heart, waving her hands in the air and trying to rationalize the statement that had been written on their sign. “Only joking! But I am a bit hurt. It’s my name that’s attached to the tour, the posters, the merch, after all...”

“Sadly, I do have to inform you that Y/N has left with our son to go back home,” Harry squints out at the audience. The crowd groans loudly at that, and the sound of Mitch’s laughter comes through his in-ear monitors.

“Soooo, you’ll have to deal with it just being me up here!” Harry points a thumb at himself, turning around to give Mitch the finger with his other hand. “It is, however, close to Christmas, and I must admit I’m missing my family too. So we’ll see if we can do something about that.”

Harry gestures for the production lead then, and the fans that make up the first couple of rows in the stadium look to each other curiously, wondering why Harry’s suddenly gone off-script. While they whisper amongst themselves, the production lead runs up on stage and hands Harry his phone. He wiggles it in the air, brandishing it in front of the crowd. They cheer in anticipation for what he’s about to do next. The screen on Harry’s phone turns on in response to all his movement, and the stadium unexpectedly gets a glimpse of his wallpaper. It’s a picture of you and Beau, taken not more than a month ago, posing in front of Foro Sol in Mexico City. Beau’s wearing a Love on Tour shirt that’s comically large on his tiny body, sucking on a pacifier as you hold him to your chest, pointing at the massive screen displaying Harry’s name behind you. The entire crowd coos upon seeing the image, and even more phones shoot up to record the moment. Harry smirks knowingly, as if to say: adorable, isn’t it?

He holds his phone to his chest then, hiding it from view as he types in his passcode and swipes through his apps. He opens up your contact card and presses the FaceTime button, shushing the crowd when the call goes through. It’s late enough at night back home in London that he’s sure Beau’s asleep already, but you’re still awake and will be able to pick up his calls without disturbing the sleeping baby. The screen takes a moment to load before your face pops up, slightly pixellated and makeup-less, but beautiful nonetheless. Harry turns his phone back towards the crowd, and they can’t hold in their excitement when they see your face projected onto the stadium screens.

“Say hi everyone!” Harry waves at his phone, grinning at how the crowd has welcomed you. “Y/N, everyone’s been missing you, and now that I’ve got you here, it only seems fitting that I sing something special tonight...”

You give Harry a confused look through the phone, and he says nothing in response, just smiles and cues Pauli in. Pauli twirls a set of mallets between their fingers and begins to play a xylophone in front of them. They count themself in, and the starting notes to Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You sound through the stadium. 

Harry can’t hear you over the noise of the crowd, but he sees you shake your head at him and swears you yell out, “Shut the fuck up!!!” as he starts to sing.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need. I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know, make my wish come true... all I want for Christmas is you!”

Harry prances around the stage with you on his phone, directing the lyrics to your smiling face on the screen. The crowd dances along and Sarah points and laughs when Harry passes by, fondly admiring just how much of a hopeless romantic he is. As the song continues, Harry decides to leap across the catwalk, determined to make this performance as extra as humanly possible. The crowd reaches for him, but in this moment he only has eyes for you. He brings his phone out in front of him as he shimmies in front of the camera, reminding you that, “Baby, all I want for Christmas is you.”

When Harry launches into the bridge, he points up at the sky. A loud pop sounds through the venue as cannons that had been rigged onto the stage release tiny pieces of confetti that had been shaped into snowflakes. The paper rains down onto the crowd, blanketing the entire stage and floor into a sea of white. The pretend-snowflakes continue to cascade through the sky, glistening under all the stage lights, and Harry ends the song by running back towards the main stage and collapsing backwards onto it. He moves his limbs up and down through the confetti that now covers the surface as if to make a snow angel. He looks up at your smiling face, still watching him sing through his phone, and it’s almost as if you’re there with him. It’s only been a few days and yet he still misses you like crazy. Harry gets lost in the moment for a second, before the crowd drags him back down into reality. He sits up, brushing the confetti out of his hair, and smiles at the sea of people looking at him adoringly.

“Hope you didn’t mind that little switch-up, there,” Harry beams, “just felt like singing a Christmas song tonight.”

“Now, we’re gonna say bye to Y/N,” he continues, placing his microphone behind his back so he can speak to you privately. The crowd boos in response, and you laugh. 

“Let me talk to your fans!” you say, wagging a disapproving finger at Harry.

“You’re a demanding bunch!” Harry jokes, putting his microphone back under his phone speaker. Your voice comes through over the venue speakers, a little tinny, but understandable. 

“Goodnight everyone! Hope you had lots of fun tonight, and thank you so much for the surprise. Take care of H for me so he comes back home all in one piece,” you blow a kiss to your phone and Harry catches it, keeping it in his back pocket.

“That was for the fans, you idiot!” You laugh, and Harry throws his hands up at the crowd when they start to laugh at him.

“Okay, no more listening privileges for you lot if you’re just going to make fun of me,” he sighs jokingly, hiding his mic behind his back again. He brings the speaker up to his mouth so you can hear him properly.

“Be home soon,” he says, “love you so much. Sleep well and text me when you’re up.”

“Love you too, goodnight, H,” you smile, hanging up the call. Harry turns back around and sees his crowd looking disappointed at the fact that they weren’t able to hear the last bit of your conversation.

“Don’t look at me like that! Some conversations are better left private,” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Mitch throws a guitar pick at him, having heard the conversation and knowing that it had not gone at all like what Harry was implying. “Anyways, onto the encore...”

LONDON, A FEW DAYS LATER

Christmas morning arrives in a blur. Harry’s finally sufficiently rested after battling with jet lag, though he still finds himself waking up slightly earlier than usual. The sun is only starting to rise, and it had snowed the night before. He looks outside the window to see the landscape painted in a winter glow. The Christmas lights that you’d put up after coming home are wrapped around the trees and shrubs outside, providing some warmth to the otherwise blue atmosphere.

Harry makes his way into the living room, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He finds you awake already in the kitchen, with Beau on your side, heating up a pot of tea. Beau is looking determined, sucking on a baby bottle with force as he clings onto his mother. You both notice Harry at the same time—you look up at him and your features soften, while Beau drops his bottle on the counter and reaches for Harry, babbling for his dad.

“Alright, alright; there’s more than enough me to go around,” Harry laughs, taking Beau from you. “Good morning. Happy Christmas.”

“Mm,” you hum while Harry kisses you. You pour two cups of tea, putting milk in sugar in one mug for you and just milk in the other for Harry. You hand his mug to him, and the two of you head over to the tree. It’s placed right in front of the largest window in the living room so it catches the most light. In the early morning, the entire space fills with a cozy light, the ornaments shining softly under twinkling lights. Both of you had decided on not giving each other gifts this year, preferring to absolutely spoil Beau rotten instead.

“Let’s open your presents now, Beau-bear,” Harry coos, bouncing the infant gently in his arms. It’s crazy, how much his life has changed in the last year. He looks at Beau, who’s looking curiously at the box in Harry’s hand, and you, quietly sipping on your morning tea. Harry’s chest swells with a whole host of emotions that he doesn’t necessarily know what to do with—but he does know that this is exactly where he belongs. He’s spent the better half of the year away from home and written an entire record exploring the idea of home. But he knows now that this is it. This is home: Christmas morning spent with the love of his life and his child. The presents that fill the entire space underneath the tree, a Christmas album playing over the sound system in the living room, Beau in a reindeer onesie, you wrapped up in a wool scarf, the snow that’ll decorate your lashes later when the three of you go out in the snow.

Harry disappears from public view until January, wanting to close out the year in private. He does, however, decide to share a photo of the three of you sitting under the tree on Christmas. You’re grinning at the camera, leaning close to Harry. Beau is sitting in your lap, fuzzy antlers sitting atop his head. His entire body is turned towards Harry, big brown eyes glittering as he stares as his dad and reaches for him with tiny hands. Harry’s smiling so wide his eyes may as well be closed, his face flush with nothing but pure joy.

He captions the photo: Christmas Morning. Harry’s House. December, 2022. It gets 10 million likes in 24 hours.

2. christmas with young harry (from this blurb!)

“Y/N!” You hear someone call out distantly from your bedroom window. “Y/N!”

The voice gets closer, and you realize it belongs to Harry. Abandoning the notebook you were currently writing in, you cap your pen and run down the stairs. Once you’ve turned the corner into your living room, though, you see that your parents have already let him in. Harry waves at you from the front door, pulling off his shoes and dusting snow off of the knit beanie resting atop his head. He hands a tin of what could only be Christmas cookies to your mom, and she pulls him into a hug.

“Happy Christmas,” Harry grins, “Mum said she liked the cookies best plain, but I think they’re better with warm milk.”

“We’ll have to try them both ways, then,” your dad responds, clapping Harry on the back. “Happy Christmas, H. Did you bike here?”

“Yeah,” Harry responds a little breathlessly. You notice that his cheeks are more pink than usual due to the cold, and the parts of his hair that weren’t covered by his hat were curling in all different directions, blown out of place by the wind. “Wanted to give Y/N her present before dinner.”

“How lovely!” Your mom coos in response, “We’ll leave you to it. Don’t forget to keep your door open, Y/N!”

Harry laughs while you roll your eyes exasperatedly at your mom. The two of you head upstairs, him trailing slightly behind you with a careful hand on your waist. You hadn’t realized earlier, but he’s wearing a backpack. It looks rather full, like the zippers are about to burst from the size of whatever he’s stuffed inside it.

“What are you planning on giving me, a bomb?!” You joke, poking at the bag’s exterior.

“Shut up!” Harry groans, “of course not! I couldn’t bring a bigger bag with me on the bike, so like, I had to make do.”

“Only joking,” you giggle, opening the door to your bedroom. Harry takes off his jacket and hangs it on the back of your desk chair before flopping onto your bed. He’s wearing a navy-colored crewneck that’s too big for him, and the sleeves go past his hands. His skin is still flushed from the temperature outside, and you think he looks absolutely adorable like this, all cozy in your room. You sit across from him and tangle your legs together. The two of you have been together for almost four months now, thanks to your friends leaving you in a room alone and basically forcing you to confess your feelings to one another at the end of the summer, but you can’t help but still be a little awkward. Harry’s your first boyfriend, and you’re still trying to make sense of the magnitude of what you feel for him. It scares you a little, how much you’ve started to care for him and how you find yourself wanting to know more about him always, from the big things down to the tiny mundane details of his life. But it also brings you comfort, knowing that you can hold so much fondness for someone else, and have those same feelings be reciprocated.

The two of you have been looking forward to Christmas—you got together too late in the year for Harry to be able give you what he had called a proper, boyfriend birthday gift, and Harry has yet to celebrate his own in February. Both of you were excited to exchange gifts as a couple for the first time, somehow, they just meant so much more to you now that your relationship had evolved beyond just friendship. October had barely ended before you started thinking about his gift. You wanted it to be absolutely perfect.

“Were you doing homework before you came?” Harry asks incredulously. He must’ve caught a glimpse of your notebook when he set his backpack down. “How do you still have work left to do?”

“It’s for next term,” you reply sheepishly, “I got bored and wanted to plan out the classes I’m taking starting January... I figured I might as well get a head start while I’m home...”

“Ever the bookworm,” Harry looks at you fondly, reaching over to ruffle your hair. You loved that about him, the fact that he never made you feel badly about anything you did. Between the two of you, you were definitely the more academically-inclined one. While you sat diligently at the front of class taking notes, your boyfriend preferred to sit near the back, cracking jokes until your teacher got annoyed and focusing more on making the setlist for his band’s latest gig, instead of his assignments.

“Wonder if I can convince you to do my homework for a month as a gift,” Harry pulls you closer to him, cupping your face in his hands. He’s about to kiss you when you turn around suddenly, forcing his lips to meet only your cheek.

“No can do,” you smirk when he pouts at you, obviously disappointed that his act of affection didn’t go as originally planned. “We both know you’re meant for bigger things than school, H, but you just need to stick it through for a few more months and before you know it, you’ll be all done with GSCEs.”

“I suppose,” Harry huffs childishly, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning up at you. You kick at his arm with a socked foot, giggling at him. He reaches for your hand and unzips his backpack, pulling out a large, misshapen object that’s been tied together with ribbon. You’re not sure what the gift is meant to be—the Christmas tree-patterned wrapping paper is folded and bent in ways you didn’t know were physically possible, and there’s several pieces of tape stuck to the sides of it, patched on in an attempt to cover places where the gift wrap had ripped.

“I wanted to wrap it myself,” Harry explains, pulling at a non-existent thread on his sleeve, “but it obviously didn’t go too well.”

You laugh as he hands the gift to you, looking sufficiently deflated. “You get full marks for effort.”

“Before you open it,” Harry adds, watching you pull at one end of the ribbon. “I tried my best to get you something you really wanted, but I didn’t know if, like, someone else had already bought it for you, or anything... so there’s a receipt in there for you to exchange it for something else if you’d like.”

“Don’t be silly,” you reassure him, taking extra care to tear the paper carefully. The gift feels delicate in your hands, as if the item inside were made of something soft and pliable. You pause on opening the present for a moment to press a gentle kiss to your boyfriend’s knuckles: the last thing you’d want is to make him think you’d ever be disappointed in anything he gifted to you.

You finally manage to pull away at the gift wrap and tape, and your hands land on a cream-colored cardigan. You gasp and look at Harry, who’s looking between you and the object in your hands fondly, like he’d known exactly how you’d react all this time.

“There’s no way...” you say, turning the cardigan over in your hands, running your fingers along the careful stitches and admiring the tortoiseshell buttons. “But this is so... it costs so much... how?!”

Harry smiles at you, watching you unbutton the sweater carefully. “Well, I remember how much you liked it when you tried it on in the shop, so I worked some extra shifts at the bakery at the beginning of Christmas hols. I made Gem drive me down to the city yesterday and got it for you. It took a lot of convincing. She’s making me do her laundry for the next month.”

“It’s so perfect,” you say sincerely, enveloping Harry in a hug. You wish you could stay like this forever, safe in the embrace of a boy who makes you feel so massively, his arms locked behind your waist and his heartbeat steady against your chest. “I love it so much. You’re just the best.”

“Glad you love it,” Harry says softly, kissing your forehead and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He watches you intently as you reach under your bed and procure a holiday-themed bag. You hand it to him, tapping on his knee while he plays with the tissue paper inside.

“Your turn.”

“Did you gift me a bomb?” Harry jokes, weighing the bag in his hand and pretending to drop it because of how heavy it is.

“Like I’d kill you off after that incredible present you just got me,” you retort, kicking at him impatiently. “Enough stalling. Open it!”

Harry pulls away at the tissue paper and pulls out a large vinyl record, covered in plastic wrap. He shakes his head and looks at you with wide eyes. “Y/N. You didn’t.”

“I did,” you reply, grinning at him as he continues staring at you in amazement. Over the summer, Harry’s parents had accidentally donated his copy of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours to a charity shop along with a box of his old clothes. You knew how much that record meant to him, so you’d gone to a small record shop the last time you were in the city and picked up a replacement.

“Y/NNNNN,” he drags out your name dramatically, peppering your face with chaste kisses.

“Come on, look at the bottom of the bag, there’s more,” you say, playing with his hair. Somehow, the two of you had ended up shifting closer and closer to each other in your excitement, and now you’re basically sitting on top of Harry, eagerly waiting for him to finish opening his gift.

“No way, two gifts?” Harry clutches his chest dramatically, “you must really like me.”

He pulls out a book from the bag, checking to make sure there’s nothing else inside that he’d accidentally overlooked. The cover is made of linen and bound together with ribbon. Stuck to the front is a polaroid of the two of you on Harry’s bike, you sitting behind him as he poses for the camera, both of you brandishing massive scoops of mint chocolate ice cream.

“What is this?” Harry whispers, flipping through the pages. Each page is covered in memories of the two of you, filled with pictures and tiny souvenirs from places you’d gone together.

A picture your mom had taken of the two of you asleep on the living room couch, your head enveloped in Harry’s chest. There’s a blanket covering the two of you, and in the distance, a TV is playing the ending of The Notebook--you’d obviously fallen asleep before getting to the best part.

A ticket stub from the first concert you’d gone to together. You still remember how you felt that night, colorful lights streaming down from above as music filled your ears, Harry dancing and singing loudly from right next to you.

A picture you took on your computer when the two of you were meant to be studying together in the school library, Harry sticking his tongue out at you while you flip him off playfully.

A picture your friends took of the two of you holding hands on the bus. The two of you dancing in Harry’s garden. The two of you running through a corn maze at the local farm. Harry waving at you from outside your bedroom window. A photobooth strip of the two of you: a vignette of him looking at you, a vignette of him turning your chin towards him, a vignette of your lips meeting.

“I figured, next year, when you’re off to the X-Factor and you get all big and famous, you can keep this with you when you’re away and it’ll remind you that I’m always thinking of you,” you say shyly. “You know, so you don’t forget me while you’re away.”

“How could I ever forget you?” Harry asks, and his voice is so sincere that it cuts straight to your heart. “I’d never get big or famous enough to forget about you. But this book, Y/N, it’s amazing. It means so much to me that you made this for me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Mhm,” you respond, smiling at him.

“Of course, you’re going to feel silly when they send me home right after auditions, and it’s back to me being your average boyfriend.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you say, and you mean every word of it. “Whole country’s gonna know your name soon.”

“Well, then I couldn’t be more grateful that you were the first one to know,” Harry says, pulling his phone out from his pocket. “Let me take a picture of us and tweet it to my two fans.”

You laugh then, and run your fingers through your hair to tame it. You pull yourself into Harry’s chest and he brings his phone out in front of the two of you. He kisses the top of your head, smiling through the action, and the digital camera clicks. You watch as he attaches the photo to a tweet and begins to type up a caption.

Christmas with my number one fan. Lucky she doesn’t know I’m her biggest fan, too. 

Harry presses send on the tweet and locks his phone. For now, no one sees it except for his sister, and the four other friends who actually follow his Twitter account. But twelve years later, when the whole world knows his name, a fan will find the tweet on his account, buried under thousands of other messages, and tag him in it. He’ll open it in the morning, with you asleep still beside him, and smile to himself as he remembers your first Christmas together. He’ll pull you a little closer as snow falls silently outside, brush your hair aside and listen to you breath steadily in his arms. He’ll lean in and whisper, Told you I could never forget you, and count himself lucky for all the holidays he’ll get to spend for the rest of his life with you right there beside him.

TAGLIST: @crazygirlinthisworld​ @grapejuice-rry​ @b-reads-things​ @s8tellite @michellekstyles​ @vrittivsanghavi​ @alienorknight​ @flwrmuse 

[toytowns]

I got a wireless charging station for my phone for christmas (that also works for watches and earbuds) and when I placed my phone on it and it started charging @pachacamac and I were hooting like baboons

functionally indistinguishable from magic even if I know how it works

[jinxedeyes]

playing dofus retro temporis. her name is hoot wireless