“Ouch,” Harry yelps as he slams his head against the sloped ceiling of the cupboard under the stairs.
He hadn’t expected it to be that close. Reaching out to steady himself on the wall, he blinks the spots from his vision and frowns. There still isn’t any room in this godforsaken cupboard. Which means either the ritual failed and having to request his relatives’ permission to do a magic ritual in their home was all for nothing—a horrifying thought—or the ritual succeeded, but deposited him wholesale body and soul into the past. Which, dammit. He reaches for the cord attached to the light bulb and tugs.
When light floods the cupboard, it reveals a wide-eyed young boy crouched on his cot, staring at the man looming over him.
“Who— who are you?” his younger self asks, clutching at his threadbare blanket. He can’t be more than five or six.
Harry has never seen himself from this angle. Man, no one was kidding around when they said his eyes were eerily bright. It’s easy to disregard the sight in a mirror, but seeing them this way is different. Looming like an ax murderer isn’t going to help anyone, so Harry kneels down next to the cot and reveals the scar usually hidden behind his fringe. “I’m you, just twenty years older.”
While his younger self reaches out to touch the scar, Harry evaluates the situation. Harry… had not been prepared to deal with this. He’d just kind of assumed that he’d be going back in time as himself, becoming this itty bitty kid in front of him. That obviously didn’t happen. Dammit, he’d had a plan. But there is no sticking around with the Dursleys as a twenty-six year old man. And, Harry thinks with a sigh, there is no leaving little Harry here, either. He’d be an asshole of the highest caliber if he left a kid in this situation; the fact that the kid is actually himself may be weird, but it’s a weird world.
“Why are you here?” his younger self asks. He’s accepted the situation rather quickly. Or, actually, knowing himself, he probably thinks it’s a dream. At this age, Harry wouldn’t believe in magic even if it knocked him ‘round the head, which it did on several occasions. The Dursleys’ adamant denial of anything magical wouldn’t crumble for another few years. Merlin, he still thinks the wind helped him up onto the school roof.
Harry shrugs. “You know how it is. Sometimes when you’re older shit happens and you decide that instead of facing that shit you’d rather go back in time than deal with the situation like a well-adjusted individual. That’s the short story, anyway.”
His younger self is silent for a long, judgmental moment. “You’re weird.”
“I know.” Harry slowly reaches out, extending his hand palm-side up. “You want to get out of here?”
Technically the same person or no, his younger self has no reason to trust this strange man in his cupboard, but little Harry takes his hand anyway.
finally got the Uchiha fam done! Designs are courtesy of @littlebeebeebird (beyond the obvious canon ones) while the frustrating color palettes are mine lmao
Now let’s go on a headcanon journey beneath the cut while I talk about this Mystery Mom and Uchiha Siblings~
(There’s 8 of them, so you better strap in for a lot of words.)
Do you realize Konan went from being a war orphan with no training at all in taijutsu, ninjutsu anything to one of those most powerful kunoichi around like yes Jiraiya trained her for two years but u know he focused on Yahiko and Nagato bc that’s what the Mens do in this series like queen took her own interest made it a deadly weapon beat sasori on her own and dragged his lil twink ass into the Akatsuki full on beat Obito if he didn’t have Uchiha L33t Hax he would have be Big Dead like wow queen I love you
I kind of would be ok with an 8th Harry Potter book that would just involve a series of really comedic/bitterly sad involvements of the gang struggling to return to normal life and failing because nothing has been normal since they were fucking 11 years old
So, seven episodes in, and I have many feelings about Leverage, and Eliot who cooks and loves horses and has hair and flashbacks straight out of a bad 80’s action movie, and Parker who’s Extremely Neurotypical (so fucking autistic but not in the usual TV ways) and fantastic, and Hardison with his sass and his visual aids and his geek pride and his endless UST with Parker, and even about sweet Sophie, the world’s worst actress ever.
Unfortunately, I think most of my feels are for Nate Ford, because never have I gone from 0 to crossover OT3 so fast as I have with Nate/Will Schuester/eaten by a shark.
I need Will and Nate to meet in a bar and bitch all night about the ungrateful slobs they rescued from the gutter, while said ungrateful slobs hang out together, and Parker gives Brittany lessons in, like, everything, while Santana terrifies Eliot with her attitude and her breasts until he teaches her knife tricks. And Will and Nate end the night as drunken messes, possibly caught out on the street corner in the snow without their pants.
gyzym: you know what i keep thinking about, is a fic where bucky was like, fucking somebody else in the 107th, before they got captured, before he knew steve was coming over, because he was lonely and horny and pretty sure he was going to die, and whatever, just, whatever
and that guy died, maybe, or wasn’t in the HC, or just sort of…. vanished, after steve showed up, like everyone more or less did, for bucky
Nat: AUGH
gyzym: but in the ensuing years either he remained alive, and told people about it, or his journal survived somehow
and so bucky barnes became… kind of an icon, for the queer community? this famous war hero, captain america’s right hand, confirmed as having fucked other men by at least one primary source
and so when bucky is relearning himself, based on like, SHIT OTHER PEOPLE SAY OR HAVE SAID, he has to discover his own sexuality through the lens of having been analyzed as part of queer theory and history classes?
Cheloneuniverse 