lieblingbitte
the infernal engine
she's a hard-core party girl with a bigger death wish than mine.
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COASTAL SHACK — You wake to find yourself lying in your bed, still very much alive.
PAIN THRESHOLD — Barely.
ENDURANCE — Don’t be dramatic. Aside from a headache and dry mouth, you’re fine.
PAIN THRESHOLD — It’s a *bad* headache.
ENDURANCE — You’ve had worse.
Ouch… No thanks, I’m going back to sleep.
[Try to sit up.]
ENDURANCE — You try to push yourself upright, but your head and your heart pound with the effort and your arms feel weak.
…Look, I said you’ve had worse, I didn’t say you should push your luck.
ENCYCLOPEDIA — It’s the blood loss. A common side effect of getting shot.
YOU — Thanks. Very helpful.
ENCYCLOPEDIA — You’re welcome!
PERCEPTION (Hearing) — As you drop back down to the pillow, you hear a familiar sound. A shuffle of nylon.
PAIN THRESHOLD — You force your eyes open just a sliver, squinting. Despite how dim the shack is, that hi-vis orange is unmistakable.
The lieutenant’s jacket is laid over you, the sleeve of it nearly brushing your cheek.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY — You catch a faint whiff of Taiga Super Special.
+1 MORALE
Oh shit! I’ve always wanted to try it on!
Does that mean he’s out there somewhere *without* it? That mental image is just not right.
I wonder what he keeps in his pockets… [Snoop.]
INTERFACING — Blearily, you reach out and feel for the jacket’s inside pockets. Predictably, most of them are empty. Obviously, the lieutenant didn’t leave any of his essentials behind. His badge and notebook are nowhere to be found. Nor are his Astras.
But…
YOU — But?!
INTERFACING — But in his left breast pocket, you feel something small and flimsy.
PERCEPTION (Touch) — Feels like… photo paper.
YOU — [Pull out the photo.]
MIRACULOUS PHOTO — It’s you.
You, reaching out a hand toward the miracle— the Insulindian Phasmid.
INLAND EMPIRE — No. It said that *you* were the miracle… violent and irrepressible…
MIRACULOUS PHOTO — The phasmid unfolding its impossibly long limbs, its eyes fixed calmly on you, the foam and the sky and your small silhouette, wreathed in sunlight, reaching, reaching…
It’s a great photo.
EMPATHY — In his left breast pocket… The lieutenant keeps it close to his heart…
KIM KITSURAGI — “…You’re awake.”
COMPOSURE — You jump, nearly dropping the photo at Kim’s voice.
HALF LIGHT — He’s caught you red handed.
“I wasn’t snooping! It just, er, fell out of the jacket and I…”
“God, Kim, you scared me…”
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant stands in the doorway in a white tank, his silhouette strange and unfamiliar without the bulk of his jacket around his shoulders. In his hands, jugs of clean water from the well. He sets them down by the door and then comes to sit at the table by the window.
“Sorry,” he says flatly, glancing briefly at the photo in your hands, then away. “How are you feeling?”
“Like death.”
“Like there’s a little guy with a sledgehammer knocking around inside my skull.”
“Okay, I guess. Tired.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm. You’ve been sleeping on and off for a couple of days now… I’m not surprised. You were bound to crash eventually, after everything your body’s been through…”
He glances again at the photo, his expression difficult to read.
EMPATHY — He didn’t mean for you to find it, but he isn’t upset, either. Strangely, he almost looks a little guilty.
“…Thinking about changing careers, Kim? You might not make such a bad cryptozoologist.”
“…Pretty scandalous of you to keep a photo of me. Whatever will they say back at the precinct?”
“…Lena and Morell let you keep the original?”
KIM KITSURAGI — “They did,” he says. And then, somewhat awkwardly, “Sorry. I should have offered to let you have it. It was your discovery, really…”
HALF LIGHT — He’s almost scared to let you take it. He doesn’t realize it, but needs it.
“But it’s *your* photo. You’re the only reason we got a picture.”
“That’s true. Does that mean I can keep it?”
“It’s okay. Something tells me you need it more than I do.”
KIM KITSURAGI — He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask you to elaborate. Just stares at the little piece of paper in your hands.
COMPOSURE — It stirs something in him. Something he doesn’t know what to name.
KIM KITSURAGI — “…You said something about having a vision,” he says suddenly, frowning. “When we encountered it, I mean. Something about the… *khm*… the fate of mankind.”
INLAND EMPIRE — He would not understand, even if you told him…
“I say lots of stuff. For no reason. I was probably just goofing.” [Don’t tell him.]
“…I did. The phasmid spoke to me about it.” [Tell him.]
KIM KITSURAGI — His eyelids flutter, processing your words. “It… *spoke* to you?”
“Um, no, I’m just kidding, Kim. Don’t worry about it.”
“Yes. Those few minutes I was just staring at her, we were actually speaking… She said such beautiful things… Beautiful, but scary, too…”
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s mouth opens, as if to speak— and then promptly shuts again. His brows knit, lips pursed. He looks at you as if he isn’t quite sure what to make of you.
INLAND EMPIRE — I warned you. He cannot understand…
KIM KITSURAGI — But then his gaze falls back to the photo, and he seems to waver.
“…What did…” He pauses. Swallows. “What did it say…?”
EMPATHY — He is trying not to doubt you like he doubted the miracle held in your very hands.
“She said that our existence must be hell… The fire and the swirling glass and the agonizing awareness… It’s a madness unlike anything else on this planet.”
“She said that she loved me. That she would benefit from our closeness…”
“She said that there really was a Seraseolitic civilization! It’s waiting to be found… right beneath our feet… They really did exist. We just forgot.”
“She said that there was a nearly universal agreement between all other life on the planet that we will be the death of them all. We brought the pale with us… *We* shattered the face of god…”
“She said that we can’t forget anymore… We can’t look away… Or one day, we’ll blink, and find that none of this ever existed. How could that be? I didn’t really understand…”
“She said that the insects are all watching us, in awe of us. That *we* are the miracles… To be able to live like this…”
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s lips part in surprise. “We?”
“Yes. You and me. We’re a miracle, Kim. Don’t you think so?”
“Yes. All of us. Humanity is a miracle. That we persist at all is a testament to that. Don’t you think so?”
KIM KITSURAGI — He does not answer. He does not seem to know how to.
EMPATHY — He wishes that he did.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Your faith is what’s miraculous, detective…
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant leans over and rests his arms on the table, his shoulders hunched and small.
“What else did the phasmid say?”
YOU — “A lot of things.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “I’ve got time.”
EMPATHY — He means it.
YOU — “She said that when we die, the insects… they will bloom from us like banners, raise us up from the ground and carry us into the sky, all in our honor…”
KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm…” He looks out the window, the light glinting off his glasses and making it hard to see his eyes. “Is that a… comfort to you?”
“Yes. It’s a comfort to know that something is watching. They love us for trying, even when the trying isn’t enough.”
“No. It’s not about comfort. It’s just a fact. We’re horrors, but we survive. Any creature would admire that.”
“No. It’s scary. Is that all that this amounts to? The admiration of *insects?* I don’t know what to think of it.”
“Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t. Right now, I just know that I’m not ready to die yet.”
KIM KITSURAGI — He nods silently.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — I’m glad to hear that. Truly.
KIM KITSURAGI — “Sounds like I missed out.” He gives you a wry little smile.
EMPATHY — And yet, deep down, there is a real disappointment that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. He wishes he could have heard her voice.
YOU — [Hold out the photo to him.] “Well… that’s what you’ve got me for, isn’t it?”
INLAND EMPIRE — You were born to detect her, precisely because no one else could.
KIM KITSURAGI — He looks at you, then at the photo. Then, he reaches out to take it back from you. He has no pocket to tuck it discreetly into, so he just holds it, his thumb creasing the margins of the paper just slightly.
“I guess so,” he says softly.
VOLITION — *That* is the miracle.
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tutor - remus lupin x reader
pairing: remus lupin x fem!shy!reader
prompt: you are in love with your tutor, remus lupin :-0
tags: !!!she/her used for reader!!!, oneshot, fluff, idiots in love, established friendship, MODERN ISH AU I GUESS JUST SQUINT AT THAT PART., young remus, maybe not fully fanon compliant remus characterisation?, niko tries 3rd person and struggles miserably
wordcount: ~660
"Hey," she felt a hot breath next to her left ear. "No sleeping during my lessons."
She turned in the direction of the voice and was met with his freckly, scarred, smiling face. Her cheeks grew hot. She sat up in her chair abruptly.
"You’d actually have to be here to tutor me for it to count as a lesson, you know," she was looking everywhere but at Remus’ face. The bookshelves, the clock on the wall (it was 15:23, 8 minutes after the agreed time), the librarian behind the front desk. Everywhere but at him.
"Fair, fair. You got me there," he admitted, chuckled, and sat down next to her. "So, which topic was it again?" She heard him set down his bag and open it.
"Pride and Prejudice," she mumbled, staring at the door.
"Pardon?" He asked, still smiling. "D'you mind repeating that?"
She could feel her cheeks burning up now. (Another reason not to turn her head to look at him.)
She sighed inwardly, closed her eyes and breathed for a second, and finally turned to stare at her slightly trembling hands on the desk. Even her knuckles were flushed crimson. "Jane Austen," she said, firmly and clearly. And trying very hard to stop her voice from shaking. "Pride and Prejudice."
"Ah, that’ll be easy. We’ll get started then, yeah?" She nodded, silently and went to take out her book. "Oh, we can share mine." And she nodded again, in slow motion, her eyes still trained forwards.
He suddenly laid a hand on top of hers, which she had returned to the table.
"Did you have lunch? You’re all shaky." She had not, she had been studying, but she nodded anyway, silently. He tilted his head to look at her face. She screwed her eyes shut. "Really? You look more tired than usual, too. You nearly fell asleep on the table earlier."
"I’m fine, Lupin," she said and had her stomach not growled right after she had said it, he might have had believed her. He was, obviously, very bright with literature and history and geography and all those things, but when it came to emotions, his own or those of others, he was as dumb as a doorknob.
"Let’s go to the vending machines," he said, and despite her still closed eyes, she could hear him grin. (Yet another reason not to open them.)
"I’m not hungry. Let’s just get started on this stupid-"
"I am hungry, though," he interrupted. "C’mon." He did this a lot. He pretended to need something for himself just to pressure her to come with him. He wasn’t subtle about it, she didn’t think he even tried to be, but it did work. She played along. (Just last week, she had had a nasty bruise on her wrist, and when she had refused to go to the infirmary, Remus had suddenly, mysteriously acquired a papercut and whinged about it until she'd taken him there, only for him to start grinning immediately and for the nurse to not even look at Remus’ hand. Remus played bass and had thick calluses on the fingertips of his left hand, and she knew, but she had been grateful, of course.)
She sighed deeply and stood up. "Lupin, if I fail this test because you’re always late and also terribly needy…"
"You won’t," they were walking, side by side, outside of the door and into the near-empty hallway. "I swear on The Marauders," (he always did), "Pinky promise," he said and held out his finger. (he also always did this.) She shook it with hers, and then he let both of their hands fall, still interlocked by the pinkies, before she had the chance to pull it away. He shifted his hand and grasped hers fully, gently. Almost tentatively. She glanced at him from the side. His shaggy, blonde hair disguised it somewhat, but she could feel that he was smiling. And when she looked at his ear, she could’ve sworn they were pink.
***
notes: hello i am sick :-( good news is tgat i might be writing a lil more bad news is that it might now make a lot of sense because i am on pain meds that make my brain Fuzzy As Hell! also i planned on making this longer but i hate writing confession scenes and whatnot so Blegh enjoy a little pining I GUESS!!!! sorry one of these days i will write something explicitly romantic, i swear.......
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tutor - remus lupin x reader
pairing: remus lupin x fem!shy!reader
prompt: you are in love with your tutor, remus lupin :-0
tags: !!!she/her used for reader!!!, oneshot, fluff, idiots in love, established friendship, MODERN ISH AU I GUESS JUST SQUINT AT THAT PART., young remus, maybe not fully fanon compliant remus characterisation?, niko tries 3rd person and struggles miserably
wordcount: ~660
"Hey," she felt a hot breath next to her left ear. "No sleeping during my lessons."
She turned in the direction of the voice and was met with his freckly, scarred, smiling face. Her cheeks grew hot. She sat up in her chair abruptly.
"You’d actually have to be here to tutor me for it to count as a lesson, you know," she was looking everywhere but at Remus’ face. The bookshelves, the clock on the wall (it was 15:23, 8 minutes after the agreed time), the librarian behind the front desk. Everywhere but at him.
"Fair, fair. You got me there," he admitted, chuckled, and sat down next to her. "So, which topic was it again?" She heard him set down his bag and open it.
"Pride and Prejudice," she mumbled, staring at the door.
"Pardon?" He asked, still smiling. "D'you mind repeating that?"
She could feel her cheeks burning up now. (Another reason not to turn her head to look at him.)
She sighed inwardly, closed her eyes and breathed for a second, and finally turned to stare at her slightly trembling hands on the desk. Even her knuckles were flushed crimson. "Jane Austen," she said, firmly and clearly. And trying very hard to stop her voice from shaking. "Pride and Prejudice."
"Ah, that’ll be easy. We’ll get started then, yeah?" She nodded, silently and went to take out her book. "Oh, we can share mine." And she nodded again, in slow motion, her eyes still trained forwards.
He suddenly laid a hand on top of hers, which she had returned to the table.
"Did you have lunch? You’re all shaky." She had not, she had been studying, but she nodded anyway, silently. He tilted his head to look at her face. She screwed her eyes shut. "Really? You look more tired than usual, too. You nearly fell asleep on the table earlier."
"I’m fine, Lupin," she said and had her stomach not growled right after she had said it, he might have had believed her. He was, obviously, very bright with literature and history and geography and all those things, but when it came to emotions, his own or those of others, he was as dumb as a doorknob.
"Let’s go to the vending machines," he said, and despite her still closed eyes, she could hear him grin. (Yet another reason not to open them.)
"I’m not hungry. Let’s just get started on this stupid-"
"I am hungry, though," he interrupted. "C’mon." He did this a lot. He pretended to need something for himself just to pressure her to come with him. He wasn’t subtle about it, she didn’t think he even tried to be, but it did work. She played along. (Just last week, she had had a nasty bruise on her wrist, and when she had refused to go to the infirmary, Remus had suddenly, mysteriously acquired a papercut and whinged about it until she'd taken him there, only for him to start grinning immediately and for the nurse to not even look at Remus’ hand. Remus played bass and had thick calluses on the fingertips of his left hand, and she knew, but she had been grateful, of course.)
She sighed deeply and stood up. "Lupin, if I fail this test because you’re always late and also terribly needy…"
"You won’t," they were walking, side by side, outside of the door and into the near-empty hallway. "I swear on The Marauders," (he always did), "Pinky promise," he said and held out his finger. (he also always did this.) She shook it with hers, and then he let both of their hands fall, still interlocked by the pinkies, before she had the chance to pull it away. He shifted his hand and grasped hers fully, gently. Almost tentatively. She glanced at him from the side. His shaggy, blonde hair disguised it somewhat, but she could feel that he was smiling. And when she looked at his ear, she could’ve sworn they were pink.
***
notes: hello i am sick :-( good news is tgat i might be writing a lil more bad news is that it might now make a lot of sense because i am on pain meds that make my brain Fuzzy As Hell! also i planned on making this longer but i hate writing confession scenes and whatnot so Blegh enjoy a little pining I GUESS!!!! sorry one of these days i will write something explicitly romantic, i swear.......
#remus lupin#remus#remus x reader#remus x y/n#remus x you#reader insert#fanfic#marauders#oneshot#fluff#hp#sfw
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jacket - sirius black x reader
pairing: sirius black x reader
prompt: sirius gave you his jacket ^_^!
tags: really really short drabble, !!!reader is wearing a dress!!!, no prns used, sirius has a crush on U, fluff without plot, sirius might be a bit ooc because this is actually from an original story im writing but i thought it fit him well enough and i just changed the names LOLLLL…
wordcount: like a couple hundred at most its really really short
"You look ridiculous like that.“
The big leather jacket made a stark contrast to the delicate dress you wore that night.
You looked at your reflection in the storefront and smiled brightly. "I think i look great!"
"You do. You wear it better than i do,“ Sirius said, eyes fondly flitting over your familiar, yet somehow novel silhouette.
“Ha, maybe i shouldn‘t give it back to you after all.“
It had been a joke, obviously, but sirius could not help but smile at the prospect. He draped a hand over his face when he could feel warmth blooming in his cheeks. please don’t give it back, he thought. please keep it forever.
You shifted your gaze from the window to the black haired man when you’d noticed his silence. “I’m joking, i’m not gonna steal you jacket. honest!” you said, looking at him sincerely.
“I know, don’t worry,” the taller grinned and tilted his head to the side. “But if you want to keep it, you can. I’m serious about it looking better on you.”
And you just laughed like you always did, the clear sound brightening the dark alley you two were stood in.
Merlin, what do you do to me.
notes: hi ok so Remember how i said im probably not gonna post for a month.. i LIED!!!!!! like i said up top this is an excerpt i wrote for an original story (that im really excited about ^__^!!!) but when i reread it this morning i was like “Hm This Could Be Sirius..” so i just chnged the names and a couple words and ta dah totally original content i wtote JUST for you guys!!!!!! lol.. anyways this note is getting longer thn the actual post, <3 U for Reading. NIKO OUT!!!!!
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writing for sirius is so easy for me but then again my characterization of him is completely diffferent from like 80% of the fandom LOL… he is not a casanova he is Just A Littol Guy…. i think me hcing him as autistic does not help either (plus i am PROJECTING.)
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jacket - sirius black x reader
pairing: sirius black x reader
prompt: sirius gave you his jacket ^_^!
tags: really really short drabble, !!!reader is wearing a dress!!!, no prns used, sirius has a crush on U, fluff without plot, sirius might be a bit ooc because this is actually from an original story im writing but i thought it fit him well enough and i just changed the names LOLLLL…
wordcount: like a couple hundred at most its really really short
"You look ridiculous like that.“
The big leather jacket made a stark contrast to the delicate dress you wore that night.
You looked at your reflection in the storefront and smiled brightly. "I think i look great!"
"You do. You wear it better than i do,“ Sirius said, eyes fondly flitting over your familiar, yet somehow novel silhouette.
“Ha, maybe i shouldn‘t give it back to you after all.“
It had been a joke, obviously, but sirius could not help but smile at the prospect. He draped a hand over his face when he could feel warmth blooming in his cheeks. please don’t give it back, he thought. please keep it forever.
You shifted your gaze from the window to the black haired man when you’d noticed his silence. “I’m joking, i’m not gonna steal you jacket. honest!” you said, looking at him sincerely.
“I know, don’t worry,” the taller grinned and tilted his head to the side. “But if you want to keep it, you can. I’m serious about it looking better on you.”
And you just laughed like you always did, the clear sound brightening the dark alley you two were stood in.
Merlin, what do you do to me.
notes: hi ok so Remember how i said im probably not gonna post for a month.. i LIED!!!!!! like i said up top this is an excerpt i wrote for an original story (that im really excited about ^__^!!!) but when i reread it this morning i was like “Hm This Could Be Sirius..” so i just chnged the names and a couple words and ta dah totally original content i wtote JUST for you guys!!!!!! lol.. anyways this note is getting longer thn the actual post, <3 U for Reading. NIKO OUT!!!!!
#sirius black#sirius#sirius x reader#sirius x y/n#sirius x you#reader insert#fanfic#marauders#drabble#fluff#hp#100 notes
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little update to my *checks tabs* THREE loyal followers! not gonna be writing a lot next month because im doing a little personal project ;;; i know No One gaf but i just wanted 2 let everyone know this blog is Not Dead !
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karaoke w the bloomic LI's (+ onion + 2two)
pairing: bloomic boys headcanons, theres no reader character in this but U can Like... Imagine ur there
prompt: hcs about doing karaoke with the boys! :D
tags: headcanons, foul language, alcohol mention(s), no pronouns or gender-specific language, fluff!!!, not proofread bc this was very stream of consciousness in my notes app
enjoy!!!! :DDD
XYX
song: Never Gonna Give You Up - Rick Astley
only sings funnyman songs
eg: all star, country roads, the pokemon intro...
does NOT take it seriously AT ALL
the first song he sings is a rickroll (obviously)
but annoyingly is not a bad singer
(because he's good at everything apparently...)
(he goofs around but his voice really suits those like frank sinatra, johnny cash esque songs...)
enjoys himself A Lot he likes listening and making fun of everyone's song choices
has the most fun singing together w everyone! (you did wannabe by the spice girls one time and he swears those were the best three minutes of his life)
NAKED TOASTER
song: Dancing Queen - Abba
VERY shy about it
doesn't wanna sing at all at first but xyx forces encourages him to (and he has a bit to drink)
when he does end up singing he picks very classic karaoke songs so everyone can sing along!!!
(their face is FLUSHED afterwards but they did have fun)
not a bad singer per se but they struggle w melody and tone and stuff
(+ he doesn't sing seriously because he Is Embarrassed)
also the type to forget the lyrics (even if they're on the screen right in front of them)
prefers listening to the others sing and provide backup vocals/instrumental
the guy with the maracas/tambourine
NIGHTOWL
song: Gotta Go My Own Way - High School Musical
the Musical Theatre guy... Or like really trashy 2000s pop
sings duets by himself.......
the one that suggested you all do this LOL
hes suuuuper high energy.. hes having so much fun
his neighbours ring his doorbell like Seven times and ask him to Shut Up
(he does not)
bad singer and he owns it
(his charisma makes up for it)
puts on a whole performance, jumping around, using a hairbrush for a microphone and shit
QUEST
song: Take On Me - A-ha
this guy.. he sings old songs.... like queen maybe billy joel stuff like that
probably the best singer out of all of them .. but he doesn't take the compliment
loooves karaoke.. loves suggesting songs you all do loves listening.. Hes just a karaoke guy
he needs a couple of drinks to get out of his shell fully but then hes unstoppable
hypes everyone up SO much full on cheering and shit
likes singing romantic duets... ;-)
in general, he does like Ten Minute Long ballads but no one minds because hes a good singer... and hot guy privilege
ONIONTHIEF
song: Mr Brightside - The Killers
does NOT want to sing
but nightowl picked a song and now he HAS to.. tch
(embarrassed but he is a good singer... and hes probably cocky abt it...)
"Ugh, can I go now." when the song is done (doesn't go.) (doesn't want to go)
probably judging everyone's song choices ("Pff, nightowl. Britney Spears? Really?")
he literally listens to Like mcr and shit in secret But OK!!!! !!!!!!!!!!
("Their lyrics are poetic." OK emo boy.)
does end up having a little fun Maybe but hes being all tsundere abt it -__-
TWO2
song: I Kissed A Girl - Katy Perry
the music guy
not a singer but his mum probably made him go to choir or something so he can hold a tune
another hype man! loves singing with his friends! and loves telling them that!
picks songs from every category probably, like he will sing the beatles and avril lavigne right after
has fun no matter what... likes singing by himself, listening to the other, singing together.. he is just a little guy
knows Literally every song ever... I feel like he has super broad tastes
notes: had thoughts. me and friends did a little discord karaoke thing recently and i was like yeah this is cool but what if Blooming Panic LOve Interets. loads of thoughts abt the li's tastes in music btw send me an ask and i will talk about it more ;-)
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karaoke w the bloomic LI's (+ onion + 2two)
pairing: bloomic boys headcanons, theres no reader character in this but U can Like... Imagine ur there
prompt: hcs about doing karaoke with the boys! :D
tags: headcanons, foul language, alcohol mention(s), no pronouns or gender-specific language, fluff!!!, not proofread bc this was very stream of consciousness in my notes app
enjoy!!!! :DDD
XYX
song: Never Gonna Give You Up - Rick Astley
only sings funnyman songs
eg: all star, country roads, the pokemon intro...
does NOT take it seriously AT ALL
the first song he sings is a rickroll (obviously)
but annoyingly is not a bad singer
(because he's good at everything apparently...)
(he goofs around but his voice really suits those like frank sinatra, johnny cash esque songs...)
enjoys himself A Lot he likes listening and making fun of everyone's song choices
has the most fun singing together w everyone! (you did wannabe by the spice girls one time and he swears those were the best three minutes of his life)
NAKED TOASTER
song: Dancing Queen - Abba
VERY shy about it
doesn't wanna sing at all at first but xyx forces encourages him to (and he has a bit to drink)
when he does end up singing he picks very classic karaoke songs so everyone can sing along!!!
(their face is FLUSHED afterwards but they did have fun)
not a bad singer per se but they struggle w melody and tone and stuff
(+ he doesn't sing seriously because he Is Embarrassed)
also the type to forget the lyrics (even if they're on the screen right in front of them)
prefers listening to the others sing and provide backup vocals/instrumental
the guy with the maracas/tambourine
NIGHTOWL
song: Gotta Go My Own Way - High School Musical
the Musical Theatre guy... Or like really trashy 2000s pop
sings duets by himself.......
the one that suggested you all do this LOL
hes suuuuper high energy.. hes having so much fun
his neighbours ring his doorbell like Seven times and ask him to Shut Up
(he does not)
bad singer and he owns it
(his charisma makes up for it)
puts on a whole performance, jumping around, using a hairbrush for a microphone and shit
QUEST
song: Take On Me - A-ha
this guy.. he sings old songs.... like queen maybe billy joel stuff like that
probably the best singer out of all of them .. but he doesn't take the compliment
loooves karaoke.. loves suggesting songs you all do loves listening.. Hes just a karaoke guy
he needs a couple of drinks to get out of his shell fully but then hes unstoppable
hypes everyone up SO much full on cheering and shit
likes singing romantic duets... ;-)
in general, he does like Ten Minute Long ballads but no one minds because hes a good singer... and hot guy privilege
ONIONTHIEF
song: Mr Brightside - The Killers
does NOT want to sing
but nightowl picked a song and now he HAS to.. tch
(embarrassed but he is a good singer... and hes probably cocky abt it...)
"Ugh, can I go now." when the song is done (doesn't go.) (doesn't want to go)
probably judging everyone's song choices ("Pff, nightowl. Britney Spears? Really?")
he literally listens to Like mcr and shit in secret But OK!!!! !!!!!!!!!!
("Their lyrics are poetic." OK emo boy.)
does end up having a little fun Maybe but hes being all tsundere abt it -__-
TWO2
song: I Kissed A Girl - Katy Perry
the music guy
not a singer but his mum probably made him go to choir or something so he can hold a tune
another hype man! loves singing with his friends! and loves telling them that!
picks songs from every category probably, like he will sing the beatles and avril lavigne right after
has fun no matter what... likes singing by himself, listening to the other, singing together.. he is just a little guy
knows Literally every song ever... I feel like he has super broad tastes
notes: had thoughts. me and friends did a little discord karaoke thing recently and i was like yeah this is cool but what if Blooming Panic LOve Interets. loads of thoughts abt the li's tastes in music btw send me an ask and i will talk about it more ;-)
#bloomic#blooming panic#nightowl#two2#quest#xyx#nakedtoaster#onionthief#x reader#x you#x y/n#reader insert#headcanons#hcs#karaoke#toasty#onion
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corporeality - fred w. & george w. & gn!reader
pairing: platonic weasley twins + gn!reader (can be read as romantic for either of them but was not intended that way)
prompt: you are a ghost, haunting the hogwarts library, just wanting to be alone in your damp, dark corner reading poetry when one fateful morning, you meet a certain two redheaded boys that will flip your life? death? existence upside down!
tags: oneshot, language, meetcute, besties being besties, ghost!reader, no pronouns or gender-specific terms used for the reader, fluff but maybe a tad angsty if you think about the implications too hard....
wordcount: ~2k
Most Hogwarts students didn’t know you existed. You liked to stay in the library. When everyone was concentrating on themselves, no one was looking at you. Of course, there had been a few students over the years that had noticed you, even some that tried befriending you, but you never went out of your way to try and be noticed. Not like your fellow ghosts, anyway. Sir Nicholas would boast stories of his bravery to any starry-eyed first year that would listen, Myrtle just wanted anyone to talk to, and Peeves… Well, Peeves was Peeves.
It was exam season at Hogwarts, the one time of year when your library wasn’t mostly empty. You disliked it greatly, often escaping to Myrtle’s bathroom to get some peace and quiet. Obviously, she never shut up, so that was hardly effective. But you preferred her presence to any mortal’s, so it was a sacrifice that had to be made.
“Myrtle, what was your best subject when you went to school?” you asked the other ghost.
“Oh, I was no good at anything!” She wailed. Of course. why had you even bothered asking?
You nodded, not feeling like comforting her. Really, the only thing you wanted to do at that moment was sit in your favourite dark, damp corner of the library and read in silence. But of course, you couldn’t do that, because your quiet places were flooded with students and no quiet at all! It was exasperating. You couldn’t wait for exams to finally be over and they had barely even started.
* * *
Madam Pince greeted you silently as you floated into the library that Wednesday morning. She was a severe woman, and one of the staff members that had known you during your time alive. You had no particular fondness for her, but she was the librarian and you haunted the library.
It was quiet in the mornings, especially on weekdays, even during the busy study period, and it was the only time in those couple of weeks that you actually felt at peace. You hated noise, you always had, but your senses had changed since you became a spectre. Smell, touch, taste. Hell, even your eyesight had gotten worse! Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, had assured you it was normal and every ghost experienced it, but of course, it bothered you! How couldn’t it have! But the worst part by far was your ears. Suddenly, every noise was ten times louder. it was insufferable!
“Spirits and sound waves, they exist on the same plane, my dear,” The nurse had said when you had asked her about your sudden hyper-hearing. That had been two weeks after your death.
You let out a heavy sigh as you plonked down into your corner, the one furthest from the doors. You pulled out a poetry book. You had read them all dozens of times over, but could never scrounge up the motivation to read anything else. Studying magic was useless because you couldn’t perform it anymore, you were not particularly interested in reading about ‘magical beasts’, as that included you now, and anything else was either boring or made you yearn for corporeality. Poetry was just something you enjoyed, plus your favourite books were hardly ever borrowed by other students, so you could cover them in ectoplasm without anyone bothering you about it. Well, usually anyway.
“No, I swear, the ladies love poetry!” You heard a voice from behind the bookshelves.
“And what exactly do I have to do with that?” A second voice whispered. They were getting closer.
“Everyone knows you’re the more sensitive one! I need you to help me choose a poem,” the first one whispered back. Then two identical, ginger boys walked to your nook. You panicked, dropped your book, and rose to the ceiling. There was a loud thud, followed by swift clacks. Madame Pince.
“Did you drop that?” One of the boys asked the other, looking puzzled.
“I didn’t even touch it!” The accused defensively held up his hands.
The strict librarian turned the corner and glared at the two boys. Oh, Merlin, no, no, no! You didn’t want to pin the blame on them! Your heart was beating so rapidly, if you weren’t dead already you’d surely be having a heart attack just about now.
“Out! Both of you!” Madam Pince demanded sternly.
“But, Madam-”
“Disrespecting my books AND my silence!? Out! Now!”
“We didn’t-”
“Who could it have been?!” Her voice got increasingly louder.
“I don’t know! A ghost?” One of the twins offered, which made you stifle laughter.
Madam Pince seemed to finally have noticed you. She looked up, steely-eyed. You shrugged, lips forming an apologetic smile.
“Madam, what are you looking at?” one of the boys asked, which made your eyes widen again. You froze in shock as all three of them were now looking up at you.
“An actual ghost.” The read head looked stunned. “This has to be a joke. Pinch me, George.” George pinched him. “OW! You arse! I was joking!”
You took a deep breath and let yourself sink.
“Sorry, Madam. I was startled,” You apologised.
Madame Pince took a deep breath. “I understand. I know you’d never purposefully disrespect a book,” she said, shooting a pointed look at the twins next to you.
She looked the three of you over one last time, then turned on her heel and walked back to the front desk.
You closed your eyes and sighed deeply when suddenly you felt a hand go through your stomach for a fraction of a second. Your head snapped up to look at the boy, horrified.
“Fred!” One of the twins, the one that still had both his hands outside of your body, hissed.
“Sorry, sorry! Just always wondered what that feels like…,” The other, Fred, said, not sounding sorry at all.
“You could've asked, wanker!” You said, floating up through the floor, finding yourself in Myrtle’s bathroom.
“Why do mortals always feel the need to touch us without asking?!” You asked.
“No one ever touches me…,” Myrtle whined.
“Myrtle, I honestly don’t give a toss about who’s touching you,” You snapped. You felt bad, sure, but sometimes she was just too much to handle. And she was horrible at consoling!
Myrtle wailed, and you buried your head in your arms.
* * *
It was a Thursday afternoon and you were hiding from the crowd of students in the library. You wandered the near-empty halls, ultimately finding yourself in the hospital wing.
“Hello, Madam,” you announced yourself to Madame Pomfrey, making her look up from a sleeping student she had been eyeing worriedly.
“Ah, good afternoon, dear, what can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you had time for a round of chess?” You asked, hopeful.
“Sorry, dear. I am a bit busy,” she sounded genuinely apologetic. “But you can sit in my office if you’d like, and I'll join you once I’m free.”
You nodded and entered the room at the back of the infirmary. It was not like the other professor’s offices, it was small, bright and didn’t have a desk. Only two armchairs, a little table and huge bookshelves. Most of the books were medical ones, but the healer had told you once over tea, which you couldn't drink, that she enjoyed the occasional muggle murder mystery.
You sat down on one of the wingback armchairs, looking out of the window onto the Quidditch Pitch. It seemed like the Gryffindor team was just wrapping up practice. You had never been particularly interested in Quidditch, but two fiery red mops of hair made you squint a little. The pitch was not very far away, but your eyes were bad, especially against the bright sunlight.
You couldn’t make out if those were the faces you had seen at the library yesterday until they were right in front of the window. They grinned and waved and you rolled your eyes. One of them made a beckoning hand gesture and you obeyed, phasing through the thick castle walls.
“What’cha staring at, Ghostie?” He asked, tilting his head.
“None of your business, Ginger,” you rebutted, folding your arms across your chest.
The quiet twin elbowed the other and he cleared his throat. “Look, I’m really, really sorry for yesterday.” Ah, so that one was Fred. “I should’ve asked. Friends?” He stuck out his hand, you sighed deeply and shook it.
Fred shivered, his eyes widening.
“I forgive you, I guess,” you muttered, pressing your lips together so as to not burst out laughing at his reaction.
“Why’s your face like that?” the second boy, George, asked.
“Her hand, mate,” Fred chattered.
“Aw, c’mon. I have a warm personality,” You pouted, a mischievous glint in your eye. Fred halted for a second before he burst out laughing. George looked between you and his brother quizzically.
You touched his cheek and he understood.
“Bloody Hell, you’re frigid!” He exclaimed, putting his hand over where yours had just touched his face.
* * *
Being dead can be a million times more fun when you don’t spend all your days holed up in a damp, dark corner of the library, you found out, thanks to Fred and George. Who would’ve known? You floating behind the twins had become customary, to the point where it was strange seeing them without you, their translucent friend. You helped them with their shenanigans and in turn, they helped you feel like a normal teenager. One that wasn’t a ghost, just very cold to be around, slightly transparent and, you know, incorporeal. But to them that just made you cooler! Literally.
It was a late-summer afternoon. You and the Weasley twins were sitting on the grass outside, under one of the large trees. They had both rolled up their dress shirt’s sleeves and unfastened their ties. Fred sat against it fanning his face and George’s was propped up on his elbows.
“Ghostie, cool me off,” Fred said.
“I’m not your personal aircon, you git,” you rolled your eyes, but obliged, laying your hand on his head.
“What is that?” George asked.
“What’s what?” You looked over to him while Fred tried to pry your hand off his hair to no avail.
“Aircon. What is that?”
“Ghostie, you can take your hand off me now. I’m cooled off!” Fred whined and you shot him a grin and took your hand off him.
“It’s what muggles use to keep their house cold. Read it in a book,” You answer sagely. George nodded, amazed.
“You read a lot,” George remarked.
“Lots of time on my hands,” you shrugged.
“On your cold hands,” Fred pouted.
“Need another round?” You challenged and pushed both your hands into his face playfully. George snorted and Fred swatted at you clumsily.
“Gerroff me!” he laughed. You pulled your hands back, grinning.
“Wrestling a non-tangible being, very smart, Fred,” George snarked.
“Did you tosser just call me a being?” You gasped in feigned disbelief. “You wanna be next? Huh?” You ask planting your hands directly onto his cheeks.
“Merlin, Ghostie,” he gasped, squirming in a futile attempt to escape your grasp. George stopped his writhing. “Actually this is nice. You’re my personal aircon.”
You clicked your tongue and removed your hands from his face, crossing them on your chest.
“I hate you both.”
* * *
“How did you die?” Fred asked out of nowhere.
“Fred…,” George said.
The three of you were in the Gryffindor Common Rooms, the twins in front of the fireplace and you on one of the sofas. It was November now and you were cautious to keep a distance, so as to not make them any colder.
“Don’t act like you’re not curious!”
“You’re so insensitive,” George chastised but you smiled at them.
“It’s OK, I knew you’d ask at some point,” you sighed. And so you told them. You told them about the Whomping Willow, you told them about the stupid bet and you told them about why you chose to stay back as a ghost. They listened intently.
“Wait, so you’re the reason we’re supposed to stay away from that tree?” Fred asked.
“Well, partly, yeah.”
George stood up, sat down next to you and embraced your permeable body carefully.
“George, you big idiot, don’t hug me. I’m freezing cold,” you said but did not move away.
“Don’t care,” he replied. “Plus, you have a warm personality.”
You couldn’t help but laugh.
* * *
notes: hello first post :-) sthis is my first time ever posting any kind of fic online ever LOL so tell me if it sucks.. this doesnt really have a plot but its cute!!! also i bullshitted ghost lore and hogwarts geography but WHO CARES!!!! everything for plot convenience
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masterlist
harry potter
fred weasley:
corporeality (platonic, gn!reader)
george weasley:
corporeality (platonic, gn!reader)
sirius black:
jacket (drabble, gn!reader)
remus lupin:
tutor (young remus, fem!reader)
blooming panic
xyx:
karaoke (main li's + onionthief + two2)
nakedtoaster:
karaoke (main li's + onionthief + two2)
quest:
karaoke (main li's + onionthief + two2)
nightowl:
karaoke (main li's + onionthief + two2)
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corporeality - fred w. & george w. & gn!reader
pairing: platonic weasley twins + gn!reader (can be read as romantic for either of them but was not intended that way)
prompt: you are a ghost, haunting the hogwarts library, just wanting to be alone in your damp, dark corner reading poetry when one fateful morning, you meet a certain two redheaded boys that will flip your life? death? existence upside down!
tags: oneshot, language, meetcute, besties being besties, ghost!reader, no pronouns or gender-specific terms used for the reader, fluff but maybe a tad angsty if you think about the implications too hard....
wordcount: ~2k
Most Hogwarts students didn’t know you existed. You liked to stay in the library. When everyone was concentrating on themselves, no one was looking at you. Of course, there had been a few students over the years that had noticed you, even some that tried befriending you, but you never went out of your way to try and be noticed. Not like your fellow ghosts, anyway. Sir Nicholas would boast stories of his bravery to any starry-eyed first year that would listen, Myrtle just wanted anyone to talk to, and Peeves… Well, Peeves was Peeves.
It was exam season at Hogwarts, the one time of year when your library wasn’t mostly empty. You disliked it greatly, often escaping to Myrtle’s bathroom to get some peace and quiet. Obviously, she never shut up, so that was hardly effective. But you preferred her presence to any mortal’s, so it was a sacrifice that had to be made.
“Myrtle, what was your best subject when you went to school?” you asked the other ghost.
“Oh, I was no good at anything!” She wailed. Of course. why had you even bothered asking?
You nodded, not feeling like comforting her. Really, the only thing you wanted to do at that moment was sit in your favourite dark, damp corner of the library and read in silence. But of course, you couldn’t do that, because your quiet places were flooded with students and no quiet at all! It was exasperating. You couldn’t wait for exams to finally be over and they had barely even started.
* * *
Madam Pince greeted you silently as you floated into the library that Wednesday morning. She was a severe woman, and one of the staff members that had known you during your time alive. You had no particular fondness for her, but she was the librarian and you haunted the library.
It was quiet in the mornings, especially on weekdays, even during the busy study period, and it was the only time in those couple of weeks that you actually felt at peace. You hated noise, you always had, but your senses had changed since you became a spectre. Smell, touch, taste. Hell, even your eyesight had gotten worse! Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, had assured you it was normal and every ghost experienced it, but of course, it bothered you! How couldn’t it have! But the worst part by far was your ears. Suddenly, every noise was ten times louder. it was insufferable!
“Spirits and sound waves, they exist on the same plane, my dear,” The nurse had said when you had asked her about your sudden hyper-hearing. That had been two weeks after your death.
You let out a heavy sigh as you plonked down into your corner, the one furthest from the doors. You pulled out a poetry book. You had read them all dozens of times over, but could never scrounge up the motivation to read anything else. Studying magic was useless because you couldn’t perform it anymore, you were not particularly interested in reading about ‘magical beasts’, as that included you now, and anything else was either boring or made you yearn for corporeality. Poetry was just something you enjoyed, plus your favourite books were hardly ever borrowed by other students, so you could cover them in ectoplasm without anyone bothering you about it. Well, usually anyway.
“No, I swear, the ladies love poetry!” You heard a voice from behind the bookshelves.
“And what exactly do I have to do with that?” A second voice whispered. They were getting closer.
“Everyone knows you’re the more sensitive one! I need you to help me choose a poem,” the first one whispered back. Then two identical, ginger boys walked to your nook. You panicked, dropped your book, and rose to the ceiling. There was a loud thud, followed by swift clacks. Madame Pince.
“Did you drop that?” One of the boys asked the other, looking puzzled.
“I didn’t even touch it!” The accused defensively held up his hands.
The strict librarian turned the corner and glared at the two boys. Oh, Merlin, no, no, no! You didn’t want to pin the blame on them! Your heart was beating so rapidly, if you weren’t dead already you’d surely be having a heart attack just about now.
“Out! Both of you!” Madam Pince demanded sternly.
“But, Madam-”
“Disrespecting my books AND my silence!? Out! Now!”
“We didn’t-”
“Who could it have been?!” Her voice got increasingly louder.
“I don’t know! A ghost?” One of the twins offered, which made you stifle laughter.
Madam Pince seemed to finally have noticed you. She looked up, steely-eyed. You shrugged, lips forming an apologetic smile.
“Madam, what are you looking at?” one of the boys asked, which made your eyes widen again. You froze in shock as all three of them were now looking up at you.
“An actual ghost.” The read head looked stunned. “This has to be a joke. Pinch me, George.” George pinched him. “OW! You arse! I was joking!”
You took a deep breath and let yourself sink.
“Sorry, Madam. I was startled,” You apologised.
Madame Pince took a deep breath. “I understand. I know you’d never purposefully disrespect a book,” she said, shooting a pointed look at the twins next to you.
She looked the three of you over one last time, then turned on her heel and walked back to the front desk.
You closed your eyes and sighed deeply when suddenly you felt a hand go through your stomach for a fraction of a second. Your head snapped up to look at the boy, horrified.
“Fred!” One of the twins, the one that still had both his hands outside of your body, hissed.
“Sorry, sorry! Just always wondered what that feels like…,” The other, Fred, said, not sounding sorry at all.
“You could've asked, wanker!” You said, floating up through the floor, finding yourself in Myrtle’s bathroom.
“Why do mortals always feel the need to touch us without asking?!” You asked.
“No one ever touches me…,” Myrtle whined.
“Myrtle, I honestly don’t give a toss about who’s touching you,” You snapped. You felt bad, sure, but sometimes she was just too much to handle. And she was horrible at consoling!
Myrtle wailed, and you buried your head in your arms.
* * *
It was a Thursday afternoon and you were hiding from the crowd of students in the library. You wandered the near-empty halls, ultimately finding yourself in the hospital wing.
“Hello, Madam,” you announced yourself to Madame Pomfrey, making her look up from a sleeping student she had been eyeing worriedly.
“Ah, good afternoon, dear, what can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you had time for a round of chess?” You asked, hopeful.
“Sorry, dear. I am a bit busy,” she sounded genuinely apologetic. “But you can sit in my office if you’d like, and I'll join you once I’m free.”
You nodded and entered the room at the back of the infirmary. It was not like the other professor’s offices, it was small, bright and didn’t have a desk. Only two armchairs, a little table and huge bookshelves. Most of the books were medical ones, but the healer had told you once over tea, which you couldn't drink, that she enjoyed the occasional muggle murder mystery.
You sat down on one of the wingback armchairs, looking out of the window onto the Quidditch Pitch. It seemed like the Gryffindor team was just wrapping up practice. You had never been particularly interested in Quidditch, but two fiery red mops of hair made you squint a little. The pitch was not very far away, but your eyes were bad, especially against the bright sunlight.
You couldn’t make out if those were the faces you had seen at the library yesterday until they were right in front of the window. They grinned and waved and you rolled your eyes. One of them made a beckoning hand gesture and you obeyed, phasing through the thick castle walls.
“What’cha staring at, Ghostie?” He asked, tilting his head.
“None of your business, Ginger,” you rebutted, folding your arms across your chest.
The quiet twin elbowed the other and he cleared his throat. “Look, I’m really, really sorry for yesterday.” Ah, so that one was Fred. “I should’ve asked. Friends?” He stuck out his hand, you sighed deeply and shook it.
Fred shivered, his eyes widening.
“I forgive you, I guess,” you muttered, pressing your lips together so as to not burst out laughing at his reaction.
“Why’s your face like that?” the second boy, George, asked.
“Her hand, mate,” Fred chattered.
“Aw, c’mon. I have a warm personality,” You pouted, a mischievous glint in your eye. Fred halted for a second before he burst out laughing. George looked between you and his brother quizzically.
You touched his cheek and he understood.
“Bloody Hell, you’re frigid!” He exclaimed, putting his hand over where yours had just touched his face.
* * *
Being dead can be a million times more fun when you don’t spend all your days holed up in a damp, dark corner of the library, you found out, thanks to Fred and George. Who would’ve known? You floating behind the twins had become customary, to the point where it was strange seeing them without you, their translucent friend. You helped them with their shenanigans and in turn, they helped you feel like a normal teenager. One that wasn’t a ghost, just very cold to be around, slightly transparent and, you know, incorporeal. But to them that just made you cooler! Literally.
It was a late-summer afternoon. You and the Weasley twins were sitting on the grass outside, under one of the large trees. They had both rolled up their dress shirt’s sleeves and unfastened their ties. Fred sat against it fanning his face and George’s was propped up on his elbows.
“Ghostie, cool me off,” Fred said.
“I’m not your personal aircon, you git,” you rolled your eyes, but obliged, laying your hand on his head.
“What is that?” George asked.
“What’s what?” You looked over to him while Fred tried to pry your hand off his hair to no avail.
“Aircon. What is that?”
“Ghostie, you can take your hand off me now. I’m cooled off!” Fred whined and you shot him a grin and took your hand off him.
“It’s what muggles use to keep their house cold. Read it in a book,” You answer sagely. George nodded, amazed.
“You read a lot,” George remarked.
“Lots of time on my hands,” you shrugged.
“On your cold hands,” Fred pouted.
“Need another round?” You challenged and pushed both your hands into his face playfully. George snorted and Fred swatted at you clumsily.
“Gerroff me!” he laughed. You pulled your hands back, grinning.
“Wrestling a non-tangible being, very smart, Fred,” George snarked.
“Did you tosser just call me a being?” You gasped in feigned disbelief. “You wanna be next? Huh?” You ask planting your hands directly onto his cheeks.
“Merlin, Ghostie,” he gasped, squirming in a futile attempt to escape your grasp. George stopped his writhing. “Actually this is nice. You’re my personal aircon.”
You clicked your tongue and removed your hands from his face, crossing them on your chest.
“I hate you both.”
* * *
“How did you die?” Fred asked out of nowhere.
“Fred…,” George said.
The three of you were in the Gryffindor Common Rooms, the twins in front of the fireplace and you on one of the sofas. It was November now and you were cautious to keep a distance, so as to not make them any colder.
“Don’t act like you’re not curious!”
“You’re so insensitive,” George chastised but you smiled at them.
“It’s OK, I knew you’d ask at some point,” you sighed. And so you told them. You told them about the Whomping Willow, you told them about the stupid bet and you told them about why you chose to stay back as a ghost. They listened intently.
“Wait, so you’re the reason we’re supposed to stay away from that tree?” Fred asked.
“Well, partly, yeah.”
George stood up, sat down next to you and embraced your permeable body carefully.
“George, you big idiot, don’t hug me. I’m freezing cold,” you said but did not move away.
“Don’t care,” he replied. “Plus, you have a warm personality.”
You couldn’t help but laugh.
* * *
notes: hello first post :-) sthis is my first time ever posting any kind of fic online ever LOL so tell me if it sucks.. this doesnt really have a plot but its cute!!! also i bullshitted ghost lore and hogwarts geography but WHO CARES!!!! everything for plot convenience
#hp#oneshot#weasley twins#fred and george#george weasley#fred weasley#fred weasley x reader#george weasley x reader#platonic#x reader#reader insert#weasley twins x y/n
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