Deatheater Using Polyjuice Potion [pointing At Regulus] - Shoot Him, He's The Shapeshifter.

Fairy houses

the marauders playing kiss, marry, kill-

remus- ok James, Pete, pads and... regulus

james- ok ok. kiss regulus, marry regulus...

sirius- *glaring at James from the floor*

james- and kill pads

peter- ok first off wtf man i guess I just don't exist and second, kill sirius??

James- well with that look he's giving me, if I don't kill him, he'll kill me so...

remus- *silently takes sirius' wand from his hand*

James, after a date with Regulus: hey Pads, what’s up?

Sirius, who just found out about them: YOU BROTHERFUCKER-

So I made a thing...

The marauders as shit me and my friends have said pt.6:

James- I can speak loads of languages!

Remus- Ok then, list them.

James- English, French, Spanish, Welsh, German, and Mandarin.

Reg- ok, say one thing in all of them then.

James *grinning*- ok. Hello, Bonjour, Hola, Bore da, nein and Nǐ hǎo.

Reg- That's on me, I set the bar too low.

"Green suits you," said Sirius with a smart smirk playing in his lips and a not-at-all subtle nod at the Great Hall's entrance where now Lily Evans was entering with her green gaze slotting through the tables in search of an empty seat.

"Yeah," James said absently, thinking about Regulus' sweater laying on the floor at the end of his bed and his tie hanging from one of the posts. "Green really suits me."

something that happened during physics today that's kinda funny:

*answering questions from a mock exam*

teacher- what's newton's 3rd law?

me- every action has an equal opposite reaction

teacher- I mean, correct, but why'd you say it like that-?

I love this little mini series microfic, it’s amazing, I’m in love.

Jerseys vs Hoodies - Part 6

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 871 | Part 5 is here | @krispykidgarden this one’s for you in honor of the fact that finals suck :) |

-

Evan doesn’t know what to say.

He’s looking at Barty, who in turn is gazing at him with a soft smile and a questioning look in his eyes. Evan thinks he needs someone to just pinch him, because there is no way that this is real. No way that he poured out his heart to Barty and wasn’t sent away with it in pieces.

No, he hadn’t been sent away at all. Quite the opposite, actually. But that just made it all the more unbelievable.

Evan should say something poetic and romantic, should smile back and kiss Barty and tell him that he wants to try to be something more with him, but all he can do is stare dumbly and say, “Is this real?”

Barty chuckles, and Evan’s heart melts.

“I could pinch you if that would make it feel more believable,” he offers.

Evan laughs and lets his forehead fall against Barty’s chest, shaking with amusement and giddy joy as Barty’s hand smooths away some of his curls.

“Nope,” he says, and can’t believe that this is happening to him, “I think the fact that you just said that did the trick.”

“Good.” Evan can hear the smile in Barty’s voice and looks up to see it resting in place, aimed at him fondly.

“So…” Barty ventures, “what do you think?”

Evan knows what he means without having to ask. Slowly, he says, “I think that we’re two idiots, but two idiots who could be less of dumb if they just kissed. And actually meant it,” he adds as an afterthought.

It doesn’t seem possible, but Barty’s grin stretches even wider as if it can defy all logic.

“That seems about right,” he agrees.

And then his mouth is on Evan’s, nothing else existing except for the two of them sitting in a library and figuring out a whole new way to fit together.

“Evs,” Barty breathes once they finally pull apart, and Evan smiles so wide he feels as though his face may break in half. There’s no way Evan could ever get tired of hearing Barty say his name like that.

“You know,” Barty tries again, “I really think that you wearing my clothes should be a regular occurrence.”

He tugs on Evan’s sleeve, where the fabric hangs a little from being too long, and seems to be slightly distracted as he mumbles, “You look really good in it.”

Evan blushes and swats Barty’s hand away.

“We’ll discuss the details later,” he says breezily, still smiling. “Just don’t ask me to wear your jersey. I think I’ll leave the whole “jersey wearing thing” to Reg.”

He was just joking, but a horrified expression crosses Barty’s face as soon as Evan finishes his sentence. It immediately causes Evan’s heart to fall through his stomach.

“What?” he asks worriedly, his smile long gone.

Barty shakes his head and grabs Evan’s hands, easing his fears slightly. “Rosie, do you know what this means?”

Evan shakes his head, still confused.

“This means that we owe Reg for the start of our relationship,” Barty says, and looks as if he’s seen something truly harrowing.

And suddenly Evan gets it.

“No,”’ he gasps. “We can never tell him, or else he’ll be absolutely insufferable.”

“Too late,” says a voice from somewhere between the stacks of books, and then Regulus is standing at the edge of the table, bag strap looped around his shoulder and looking slightly worse for the wear.

Barty and Evan turn a horrified glance to each other.

“Please tell me that you weren’t here the entire time,” Evan finally says.

Regulus shakes his head, and Evan feels slightly mollified. Only slightly, though, as Regulus then says, “I just came back a little bit ago to come and get you two for dinner, and you looked as though you were having a… moment.” Regulus wrinkles his nose. “Please never kiss in front of me again.”

Barty just grins and slings an arm around Evan’s shoulders, even as Evan’s face turns red.

“No promises,” Barty says, then turns around to peck Evan on the nose. Evan can’t help but smile at him. Regulus makes a sound of disgust.

“I’m going to be sick,” he pronounces, then gestures for the pair to stand up. “Come on. We’re late for dinner.”

Barty sighs dramatically, then stands and extends a hand to Evan.

“Shall we go, sweetie pie?” he asks in a ridiculously sweet manner.

Evan sniggers, “Of course, snookums,” then places his hand in Barty’s and allows him to haul him to his feet.

“I’m leaving now,” calls Regulus, already walking away as Barty tucks an arm around Evan’s waist. Evan never wants it to leave, and somehow, he gets the distinct feeling that Barty doesn’t want it to leave either.

“So, what do you think, Rosie?” Barty murmurs. “Shall I escort you to dinner?”

Evan smiles up at him, taking in Barty’s adoring gaze and lovely dimples. Then, because now it’s a thing he can do simply because he wants to, he tilts his head up and pecks Barty on the lips.

“That sounds lovely, Bee,” he says, then starts off towards the Great Hall.

Barty’s arm doesn’t leave his waist.

-

(The End!)

the marauders as shit me and my friends have said pt.4: The slytherins edition

Barty- yknow, an air fryer is basically just an easy bake oven for adults...

Pandora- Barty, honey. you know I love you but please stop.

Reg- Don't worry Dora, I'll say what you won't. Barty, if you dont shut the fuck up I'll suffocate you with that pillow.

Dorcas- I mean, he's got a point *shrug*.

Reg- *throws pillows at both of them*

wolfstar, dance, and humor please!

Here you go lovely anon!!

“Ballroom dance lessons will be scheduled every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon.”

Remus' hand shoots straight up.

McGonagall doesn’t look at him as she swishes by. “Yes, Mr Lupin, it is compulsory.”

Sirius snickers, and James reaches over to pinch Remus’ morose cheeks. “I’ll be your partner if Lily rejects me, Moony.”

“Thanks,” Remus replies, “I’d love to be your sloppy seconds.”

“Not sloppy. Slutty, maybe. I saw the way you sucked on that popsicle yesterday-”

“That wasn’t intentional,” Remus says quickly, sinking into his seat.

“Boys,” McGonagall snaps.

None of them flinch.

“As you’ve so graciously sorted your own partners out, perhaps you can be the first to demonstrate your skills to the class.”

Sirius shrugs, slipping easily from his seat and straightening out, offering one hand down to a horrified looking Remus.

Eyes the size of saucepans, Remus reluctantly places his fingers gently over Sirus’ palm, but doesn’t move.

Sirius hauls him bodily from the chair, and strides to the middle of the floor, Remus stumbling behind him. All the desks have been pushed to the walls, clearing a space for dancing.

“First,” he says, loudly, before pausing. “Which dance are we doing?”

“Foxtrot,” McGonagall replies. The purse of her lips makes it impossible to tell if she’s taking the piss or not.

“Close contact,” Sirius continues, as if she never spoke, “is an important aspect of the Foxtrot.”

He pulls Remus against his body, one hand tightly wrapped at his waist, the other extending their encased hands. Winking at James, he dips Remus, ignoring his startled squawk, and kisses him gently on the tip of his nose.

“MR BLACK.”