#c;peter

Arthur hadn’t actually planned to follow the man.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

It had started as a coincidence—really, it had. He had just been walking, minding his own business, when he spotted him again. The same man he had seen earlier with Tina. The one who had laughed softly at something she’d said, the one who had stood just a little too close, the one who, quite frankly, was very hard to ignore.

Arthur had noticed him immediately back then, and not just because of the whole mysterious connection to Tina thing. No, the man had a presence. The kind that made people glance twice without meaning to. Confident, composed… and, annoyingly, attractive.

So when Arthur saw him again, something in his brain had just… clicked.

And before he could stop himself, he was following him.

Not in a creepy way. Well—no, actually, definitely in a creepy way. But in Arthur’s defense, he hadn’t meant for it to become that. He had simply wanted to figure out what the connection was. What did this man have to do with Tina? With James? Was he part of the whole… confusing situation Arthur had been obsessing over?

His curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Now here he was, half-hidden behind a bush like a cartoon character with zero self-awareness, peeking through the leaves while trying to remain as inconspicuous as humanly possible—which, unfortunately, was not very inconspicuous at all. Every time the man slowed down even slightly, Arthur froze, holding his breath as if that would somehow make him invisible.

“This is fine,” he whispered to himself under his breath. “This is completely normal behavior.”

It was not.

He leaned a little to the side to keep the man in view, pushing a branch away from his face—only for it to snap back lightly against his cheek. Arthur winced, silently cursing his luck, and adjusted his position again.

And that was when everything went wrong.

The man suddenly stopped.

Arthur’s stomach dropped.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he turned around.

Directly toward him.

Oh no.

Arthur’s brain short-circuited. For a split second, he considered staying perfectly still. Maybe—just maybe—he hadn’t been seen. Maybe if he didn’t move, this could still be salvaged.

But the man’s gaze locked onto the bush.

There was no salvaging this.

In a burst of panic, Arthur practically launched himself out from behind the bush before the man could say anything, leaves clinging to his clothes as he stumbled forward, hands raised slightly like he’d just been caught committing a crime.

“Hello!” he blurted out far too loudly, his voice cracking just a little. “My name is Arthur—Arthur Rasa. I, uh… was wondering who you are and ended up following you.”

He froze for half a second, realizing what he had just admitted.

“Not that I wanted to be a stalker!” he added quickly, words tumbling over each other in a frantic rush. “I mean, I didn’t want to follow you—it just sort of happened. I was curious! About you. And—uh—”

Arthur stopped abruptly, his face flushing as the full weight of his rambling hit him.

“…forget I said that,” he muttered, looking anywhere but at the man in front of him, suddenly very interested in a completely unremarkable patch of ground.

@xlackcxt

Cthulhu began to cackle maniacally. “It’s so fun driving sailors mad don’t you agree?” Cthulhu said watching the ship drown his spot. “I’m telling you- forget looting that Hook guy, just put him out of his misery.” Cthulhu patted the other on the back. “Just say the word and that Hookie guy will be dead.” 

15      linking arms

Cerby puffed his cheeks. “You make it sound so hard!” Cerby stood on a rock. “Anyone can hold each other if they want to.” The familar linked their arms in demostration. 

“See. It’s easy!!!” 

♠: Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/ etc.

Settled in with pancakes for breakfast, Fatima had received two pieces of mail as she prepared her plate. The first came with Dian, a reply to the letter she had sent her elder brother last week. She grinned, pulling it off the little owl and ripping the envelope open - maybe she spent more time with Yasmin over the last years, but the fact remained that Anwar was more like her than either of her sisters, and they all knew it. One quick read and she knew exactly where to start with her reply, when she had time to write it over lunch.

The second piece of mail was a copy of the Daily Prophet, which Yasmin had insisted all three sisters subscribe to. Absently handing the owl a knut from her pocket, she loaded her fork with some pancakes before scanning the headings on the front page.

“Attack on Borgin and Burkes,” she murmured slowly, in the habit of mouthing along as she read. “That’s funny.” Anwar’s letter had mentioned a routine raid on the store, and that it’d been attacked, even gotten people injured…well, she had to read the article. She was too curious not to.

When she was done, her mouth was hanging open in shock and a forkful of pancake was hovering half-way to her mouth. Her eyes were wide, staring at the last line of text. Unfortunately, it said, Auror Shafiq was killed in the crossfire.

The only Shafiq who had been an auror in the past fifty, even sixty years, was the one who had written the letter she had left beside her plate.