archivistrose

[archivistrose]

as a history of art nerd i’m really enjoying your rosekiller fic and i especially enjoy the footnotes

i just really wanted you to know

comments/questions like this on tumblr & ao3 are literally what keeps me writing atp stg

[archivistrose]

due to the massive hugging ai scrap from ao3, i will be prefacing some things in regard to my fics/fandoms.

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

everything i have posted is personal. it is my own creation that has been written without the use of generative ai.

i do not, and will never, support the use of generative ai in creative/art spaces.

i do not, and will never, support jkr or her transphobic/homophobic/racist/sexist/colorist/etc., agenda. i do not support giving her money; which includes going to hp world in a “marauders way.” if you are buying official merch, you are part of the problem. you have contributed to the 70 thousand pounds she put into anti-trans legislature in the uk.

due to hugging, i have restricted my fics to registered users only. i love reading your comments, and getting emails that someone left kudos - it makes me feel like i’m doing these characters justice and that someone is enjoying the story - but because of hugging, comments will be restricted to registered users as well.

that all being said, continue to support your local artists, your small businesses, and your content creators that have developed safe spaces for you and the people around you.

[archivistrose]

Barty: If you had a gun with two bullets, which two people would you shoot?

Evan: I'd shoot your father twice.

[archivistrose]

sunrose oneshot | 3.5k+ words | atheist archeologist evan rosier x the sun god “ra” james potter | idea from @marsstxr on tiktok

i also made a tiktok account : @archivistrose

[archivistrose]

hey guys-

i’ll be taking a break from posting new chapters for a while. i will be taking a hiatus for a while, but will let you know when things will be back up and moving!

rosekiller | fic update | ch21/?, 76k+ words, weekly updates | artist/restorationist evan rosier & art collector/criminal barty crouch jr | mutual pining, slow burn, angst, second chances | playlist

ch21 teaser~

Evan hadn’t seen his friends since before Thanksgiving, and although he was happy for some uninterrupted alone time, he had to admit that he missed them.

He missed Dorcas and Regulus’ constant arguing over the proper conjugation of negative French verbs and adverbs. The way she would poke Evan’s shoulder every time she wanted to peek at what he was drawing, even though he never agreed to show her. How Regulus would perform one of the most disgruntled sighs of disapproval whenever Evan decided to use a tea bag instead of loose leaf.

He could even be coerced into acknowledging that he missed Barty, if he thought about it too hard. His wicked grin and poorly timed flirtatious remarks. How he’d take any and every chance to pop into Evan’s personal space. There were even the rare moments of almost intimate understanding when Regulus would make a self-deprecating joke, and Barty would say something so wildly inappropriate that they couldn’t do anything except laugh.

It was an odd, although familiar, feeling - as most things were with Barty, and Evan just had to accept it. He tried, in those final years of high school and throughout most of college, to ignore it. He tried when Barty came sauntering through the studio door and he tried again when he watched Regulus confess to sleeping with Evan at the Halloween party. He had even tried during the first month of holiday break in Greece, but it wouldn’t stick.

Evan wasn’t admitting defeat because it wasn’t that simple, but he was willing to accept the fact that he missed his friends - including Barty.

Barty who, as Evan expected, was sitting directly across from Dorcas in the main seating area by the wide-open doors.

cont on ao3…

[archivistrose]

long awaited drarry

yeah this drawing killed me in so many ways but it's finally done!! i've had this idea for sooo long but i only found a relevant reference just recently

they're everything to me<3

[archivistrose]

Evan Rosier- he always appears to be 'oh so bored' with everything, he makes people uneasy by his lack of acknowledgment or care and even the best of teachers stutter by the empty look. He'll throw a puch or two but most of the time he doesn't bother, he'll walk around hogwards at night not for some aesthetic bullshit but bc he's insomniac, he'd have the prettiest eyelashes and the biggest circles under his eyes. He gets bored by people being predictive (that's why he and Barty are far beyond best friends, dating, soulmates, fucking menaces ) would excel at care for magical creatures but he'd hide it bc ya know Slytherins, would be really bad at remembering names and birthdays (even his own) but once he memorieses it he never forgets. Doesn't enjoy reading and finds philosophy posh and bunch of -smart- ass -quotes -of -a crazy-people, would enjoy horror stories and bit of sci-fi I think, he'd either get black tea or coffee and would wear eyeliner from time to time to piss off people

[archivistrose]

@rosekillermicrofic | 1,122 words

based on an interaction i had while shopping today.

Three hours.

It had been three hours since Barty started his shift and not once had he been presented with the opportunity to just sit down.

His legs were sore, his arms were shaky, even his eyes ached at the bright fluorescent lights overhead. Why he had chosen to get unapologetically hammered the night before an early morning shift - should’ve been a question he could answer.

Yet, there he stood, cursing himself as he moved another box of heavy-weight hoodies from the cart to the floor.

On Friday nights, they received shipments - which meant the Saturday morning crew had the luxury of distributing it throughout the store. Although, if you were to ask Barty, he’d say it was the worst part about working at Pandora’s Box.

He could handle the nagging parents and the rambunctious teenagers, but the labor - it exhausted him.

I should workout more, he thought.

Of course, he had considered it multiple times - had even made a New Year’s resolution to hit the gym more, but by mid-January, he was already finding excuses to skip out.

“You okay there Bartemius?” a soft voice spoke, pulling his attention.

Across the counter stood a short girl with light blue eyes and a heart-shaped face. Her hair was pulled back and held in place with two gold butterfly clips. She tilted her head to the side and furrowed her eyebrows.

“Yeah, no, yeah,” Barty stuttered. He hadn’t realized the physical toll moving over twenty boxes of merchandise would have, and his voice came out strained. “Is there more in the back?”

She nodded, “I’ll have Mary pull it, can you take over at the register?”

Barty didn’t bother hiding his relief as he ran his hands down the sides of his pants and gave her a wide smile. “Of course,” he shot her a wink and slowly backed away from her towards the check-out counter. It barely came up to his waist, but it was solid enough to bear the brunt of his weight so, he bent over and rested his elbows on the glass.

Within the display case were a variety of items ranging from precious stones wrapped in silver wire to crystal ashtrays, body jewelry embedded with amber to silk scarfs, and mini mythological statues to incense holders. They were some of the most expensive pieces in the store.

Barty wasn’t allowed to have a key.

Something about protecting precious stock. The manager on duty was required to pull the it from the safe at the beginning of their shift and then return it once they clocked out.

“Hello?” someone said, and Barty had to yank his eyes away from a particularly alluring piece of green aventurine set in a silver ring, to find the origin of the strange voice.

“Hi,” Barty’s cadence hitched up an octave, as it usually did when speaking with a customer, and as soon as he made eye contact with the foreign subject, he had to bite back the cough that built up in the back of his throat.

To say the man ahead of him was beautiful, would’ve been an understatement. He looked ethereal, but not in a stereotypical way - more so in a biblically accurate way. His face was thin, making his cheekbones extremely pronounced, and his eyebrows were arched. He had wavy blonde hair that bent just above his eyes and curled inward at the base of his neck. His shoulders were broad, but he looked rather frail - even under the baggy brown jacket he wore.

“Is this register open?” He asked.

“Oh, um-” Barty looked around, as if he needed confirmation that no one else was working the counter. “Yeah - yes, yes it’s open,” he pushed himself off the display case and straightened up. “Is this all?”

“Mhm,” the stranger mumbled as he removed a green hoodie from its wooden hanger and set it folded up on the counter with the tag sticking out.

How polite, Barty smiled to himself.

“What’s a good email?” he wanted to ask for a phone number or a name, but something in his throat pulled back like a fishing rod.

“E Rosier,” it sounded French, or at the very least Italian. Something romantic and divine, and Barty had to physically bend his neck to pop the tension that suddenly built up in his vertebrae.

Barty typed the letters into the keypad, but no results came up. “E Rosier?” he asked.

“Yeah, E R-O-S-I-E-R,” he leaned forward to get a look at the screen, as if realizing the pronunciation of his name was contradictory to how it was actually spelt.

Barty followed the directions seamlessly but seemed to mistype - so when he read it back again, the stranger just smiled softly.

“No, E-R, not A-R.”

“Right,” Barty nodded, trying to keep his focus on the computer. “I was testing you.”

“To see if I could spell my own name?”

Barty huffed out, entirely unaware that he had been staring straight at the customer instead of his screen.

“Yeah, yeah that,” and he sounded like a stuttering child asking for candy right before bedtime.

He probably tastes just as sweet, and the flush of heat Barty felt running up his neck and over his face had to be noticeable.

“Uhm, here we go. Got it,” once the account was linked, it had only been a matter of seconds before they finished checking out and were walking away from the counter.

Barty looked back down at the display case, the palms of his hands resting lightly against the glass. He was sweating, actually sweating, and he had to peel his fingers off the class carefully, leaving behind a few smudges of condensation.

He looked at the marks closely, hoping for a distraction, but when he noticed the shadow of his index finger was pointing at the green aventurine he had been so intently looking at earlier, he stumbled back.

Barty didn’t believe in signs. He didn’t believe in destiny or fate, but he could’ve sworn that stone was the same color as Rosier’s eyes.

Rosier, he repeated, Rosie, and before Barty could fully realize what he was doing, he launched at the keyboard and started anxiously pulling up a list of recent transactions.

At the top was one sale for a large green hoodie with the reward email typed out at the bottom.

I mean… Barty shrugged to no one in particular as he frantically copied down the letters.

Whether or not it was against company policy, he didn’t know - but he did know that he was going to email the pretty boy with the blonde curls.

[archivistrose]

barty “you took. EVERYTHING. from me.” crouch jr and alastor “I don’t even know who you are.” moody

[archivistrose]

rosekiller | fic update | ch21/?, 76k+ words, weekly updates | artist/restorationist evan rosier & art collector/criminal barty crouch jr | mutual pining, slow burn, angst, second chances | playlist

ch21 teaser~

Evan hadn’t seen his friends since before Thanksgiving, and although he was happy for some uninterrupted alone time, he had to admit that he missed them.

He missed Dorcas and Regulus’ constant arguing over the proper conjugation of negative French verbs and adverbs. The way she would poke Evan’s shoulder every time she wanted to peek at what he was drawing, even though he never agreed to show her. How Regulus would perform one of the most disgruntled sighs of disapproval whenever Evan decided to use a tea bag instead of loose leaf.

He could even be coerced into acknowledging that he missed Barty, if he thought about it too hard. His wicked grin and poorly timed flirtatious remarks. How he’d take any and every chance to pop into Evan’s personal space. There were even the rare moments of almost intimate understanding when Regulus would make a self-deprecating joke, and Barty would say something so wildly inappropriate that they couldn’t do anything except laugh.

It was an odd, although familiar, feeling - as most things were with Barty, and Evan just had to accept it. He tried, in those final years of high school and throughout most of college, to ignore it. He tried when Barty came sauntering through the studio door and he tried again when he watched Regulus confess to sleeping with Evan at the Halloween party. He had even tried during the first month of holiday break in Greece, but it wouldn’t stick.

Evan wasn’t admitting defeat because it wasn’t that simple, but he was willing to accept the fact that he missed his friends - including Barty.

Barty who, as Evan expected, was sitting directly across from Dorcas in the main seating area by the wide-open doors.

cont on ao3…

[archivistrose]

@rosekillermicrofic , february 21 , ignore, words: 1036, mild nsfw — for mi @er9tic !! hope it's a nice start to your day<33

this is a part 2 of this one!

It had been half an hour of this already. They sat cross-legged on Evan’s bed, trying to figure out how exactly the process of brewing Amortentia worked. Why Evan had chosen this particular topic for his essay, Barty would never know. He was fairly good at Potions, while Evan excelled more at wand work; Defense Against the Dark Arts and intricate charms.

But it wasn’t the essay on Amortentia or its complicated brewing method that was frustrating Barty, no. It was the damn lollipop that Evan still had in his mouth, the way his red-stained tongue kept distracting Barty, making him lose track of the words in front of him. It was the way Evan kept pulling the candy out, using it as a prop while he asked Barty questions, only to suck the aftertaste from his lips. The sound of it made Barty shift, adjusting the bedsheet draped around Evan’s shoulders–the other end of it covering Barty’s lap in a poor attempt to conceal his growing erection.

“So, it’s supposed to go three times clockwise after the first tear is dropped, and then instantly counterclockwise, right?” Evan asked, confused, his eyes shifting between the paper and Barty.

Barty wasn’t trying to ignore him, but his eyes were still focused on the candy between Evan’s fingers, the hand resting on his knee, just out of Barty’s reach.

“B, are you listening to me?” Evan nudged Barty’s leg with his other knee, trying to pull his attention back.

It was only then that Barty processed what Evan had asked. But more importantly, he’d just realized something.

“Hey, haven’t you been sucking on that lolly for almost, like, an hour now?”

Evan blinked at him, silent for a second as he examined Barty’s face, then the candy in his hand.

“Umm, yeah, and that is connected to my essay… how, exactly?”

“Isn’t it supposed to be the size of a poppy seed by now?”

“Oh, yeah. I put a permanent charm on it, so it doesn’t run out. Is that why you’ve been staring at it?” Evan grinned, acting oblivious to the suffering he was putting Barty through.

Barty cleared his throat. “No, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it, B?”

Barty swore Evan knew exactly what he was doing, messing with him on purpose.

“How come it’s a bit smaller than when you first unwrapped it?” Barty asked, already knowing the answer. And there it was–the instant drop in Evan’s expression, the faint pink decoration on his cheeks as he tried to maintain his usual nonchalance.

“I charmed it while I was talking to Reg. Why does it matter?”

Here it comes, Evan’s defensiveness, the same kind he always had when caught red-handed. He shrugged and placed the lollipop back into his mouth, eyes going back to his essay, so quick to change the subject now.

“So, clockwise be–”

Barty cut him off with a firm hand against his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. The sheets slipped from both their laps and onto the floor. Evan’s head hit the pillow with a soft thump, surprise plastered across his features. His arms were now spread out at his sides, the lollipop that he managed to rip out just in time was now dangling from his fingers.

“It matters, Evan, because there’s a reason you put that charm on.” Barty leaned over him, eyes locked onto Evan’s.

“Because I like the candy? And it helps me focus on my essay?” Evan raised his eyebrow with a little shake of his head, as if he couldn’t believe what Barty was asking him.

It’s then that Barty lowers his hips onto Evan. He watches Evan gulp as his gaze flicks down to where Barty’s cock is now pressed against his thigh.

“No, Evan. I think you just like watching me suffer.”

“Oh, is that it? Do you want a taste, then?” Evan smirked with a self-satisfied, shit-eating grin of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. He lifted the lollipop between them, offering it to Barty mockingly.

Barty looks at Evan for a second longer before slowly reaching for it with his left hand, the other one still pressed into Evan’s chest. His cock twitches at the sight of the damned thing.

He examines it for a moment, questioning himself, before gently placing it against Evan’s half-parted lips.

“Yeah, actually. I do.” Barty answers before leaning down to press his lips to both the cherry-flavored candy and Evan’s mouth. There is a surprised hitch in Evan’s breath after Barty flicks his tongue around the lollipop, using it as an excuse to feel Evan’s lips. He spins the candy between them, unsure which side belongs to whom anymore, their tastes mixing on the glossy surface.

Then, their tongues meet at the edge of the candy, and Evan lets out an obscene moan, his hips snapping forward–seeking friction against Barty’s hip.

“Barty,” Evan whimpered his name, only to flip them over in one quick motion. Now, Barty was the one being pinned, his back hitting the mattress as Evan hovered over him, the carefully maintained calm composure from before now completely gone–replaced with hungry frustration.

Evan ripped the lollipop from his mouth and flung it across the room. It hit the wall with a crack, sending hundreds of red flecks across the floor.

Before Barty could react, Evan’s hand gripped his jaw, turning his face back toward him as their lips crashed together, the fabricated cherry flavor no longer an obstacle between them.

There was nothing soft about it, nothing tame. It was all the tension that had been simmering for months, finally reaching a breaking point. Barty had always known their friendship wouldn’t last forever. It was doomed to end in either an unhealthy amount of love or spiteful hate.

And right now, with their lips clashing, tongues gliding against one another, clothes being tugged and torn, and Evan desperately trying to align their hips–

Barty thought their friendship might just end in a mix of both.

All because of a stupid lollipop. One he despised just a little less now that he realized his lips fit against Evan’s far better than the candy did.

[archivistrose]

evan rosier

and barty crouch jr

[archivistrose]

rosekiller | fic update | ch19/?, 67k+ words, weekly updates | artist/restorationist evan rosier & art collector/criminal barty crouch jr | mutual pining, slow burn, angst, second chances | playlist

ch19 teaser~

Regulus’ immediate thought had to have been something he thought the better of because although his eyes shot wide in retaliation, they relaxed just as fast. “Using my own words against me, how clever.”

“You know me,” Barty winked.

“I do,” Regulus didn’t seem at all pleased at the fact, “which is why I won that bet against Dorcas last weekend. Thanks for that.”

Barty shot him a look of confusion. Regulus wasn’t keen on providing thanks, even if he meant it. Usually, such appreciation was only said in mockery, it was never genuine.

“What are you talking about?”

Regulus took a sip of his cocktail and then set it back on the table. He ran his index finger slowly around the rim, causing a faint, high-pitched ringing to escape from the inside of the cup. “That bet I made with Dorcas, the one about your reaction? You did exactly what I thought you would,” he spoke with silk in his voice, like he was trying to communicate with a toddler with a limited vocabulary. “She was supposed to pick up my dry-cleaning from Bushwick for the whole month of January, but your reaction-” he paused, a smile creeping onto his face, “your reaction was all the payment I needed.”

Barty retraced his steps. He could remember the bet, could remember how Regulus wasn’t against Barty’s attendance at their annual Halloween party, but he couldn’t place any scenario that he reacted-

cont on ao3…

[archivistrose]

someone said monster hunter! bcj & fallen angel! evan rosier on tiktok to a destiel audio & i’ve never been the same

[archivistrose]

dorcas supremacy

[archivistrose]

evan and barty like the same bands/musicians, but their favorite songs are not the same

insane clown posse

boogie woogi wu and cherry pie - evan

my axe and hokus pokus- barty

korn

twisted transistor - evan

dead bodies everywhere and freak on a leash - barty

(honorable mention: falling away from me - regulus)

the cure

just like heaven - evan

boys don’t cry - barty

arctic monkeys

the entire humbug album - evan

the entire favorite worst nightmare album - barty

the neighborhood

devils advocate and the beach - evan

wdwfm and daddy issues - barty

(honorable mention: this house is a circus - regulus)

yes, these are all on their playlists

evan

barty

[archivistrose]

okay so i had this idea about evan for my fic, but idk if i’ll be including it so i’m just gonna put it here.

Evan, who has these dedicated rooms in his brain for his people. Dorcas, Regulus, Felix, etc. Evan, who put bricks and concrete around them as a layer of protection because nothing could ever make him see them a different way.

Barty, who had his own room too of course, but it wasn’t built with anything hard. Barty, whose room had paper thin walls and glass windows that could so easily be broken. Barty, who could crawl around inside Evan’s mind and leave pieces of himself wherever he saw fit.

Barty, who stayed the same, but made his room bigger and bigger over time. Who existed so dominantly in Evan’s head that it felt like he lived there just as much as Evan did.

Or something like that idk, I’m not a poet.