[attr="class","backgde"]

[attr="class","lyric1de"]heaven for everyone

[attr="class","lyricbgde"]

[attr="class","lyric2de"]Just your smile can smooth my ride
These troubled days of cruel rejection
You come to me, soothe my troubled mind

[attr="class","textbodde"]Working on a Sunday was far from Agatha's idea of an ideal weekend--but it had been a good day nonetheless. She liked working for Realm, and Whit was fun. Really an amazing boss, as far as editors went, and Agatha was lucky to be taken on by her. Agatha was not quiet at a point where she knew exactly what she wanted to do in the future, but she knew she liked investigative journalism, and she liked Realm magazine, so working for Whit seemed like a good way to hopefully figure it all out. It wasn't that Agatha was lost on what she liked. She knew herself very well. She was Agatha Regent, lover of all things history, vintage records, first class baker, and she had a way with words. But when it came to applying all of that, Agatha felt a little lost. When people asked her where she saw herself in five, ten, twenty years... Agatha didn't really have an answer. Maybe she would still be working for Whit, but as a reporter or a columnist. That made perfect sense, really--but there were other options. And it didn't feel certain. Nothing ever felt certain. Especially not nowadays.

Agatha was trying to push all of that out of her head, though, and live in the present. She had a lot going in the moment, there was no point in complicating her life and thinking too far beyond that. Her Gran would always say you could only do one thing well, so it was best to focus her efforts on what was happening. On school, which was coming along pretty well, despite the late start. Agatha got to study the things she liked. And she loved work, even if it brought her out of her apartment on the weekends. And her little project. It was an article. An editorial, really. Agatha doubted it would ever even see the light of day, but it had been the result of a very interesting history lecture and her trademark curiosity. Her apartment was practically overflowing with old records of America's magical history at this point. With every anti-muggleborn thing happening in England, Agatha couldn't help but get wrapped up the anti-magic history of the States. It almost seemed fitting, now that people were losing their magic.

But it would be a while before she was even ready to show that piece to Whit, so for now... life went on. With her work day done, Agatha had decided to take the Floo to London, paying a visit to Reece at Mungo's first, and then leaving to go for a walk to one of her favourite places. Really, after all of her hard work lately, Agatha thought she deserved it. A day at the music shop, listening to old records, and maybe even buying one or two if she happened to find something she didn't have yet. Slim chance, her collection was pretty developed at this point. Agatha's mother would joke that soon she would need a whole other bedroom just for her records. With the music store's headphones covering her ears and plugged into the record player, Agatha gently took out a Weird Sisters record--one of the first ones they had put out--and placed it on the record player. She would really get lost in the moment, in these instances, and Agatha knew she probably looked ridiculous, mouthing along to the lyrics as she kept flipping through some other records. She almost didn't notice the voice just slightly breaking through the music--definitely wouldn't have noticed, if it wasn't for someone suddenly appearing in her peripheral vision. Her face reddening a bit, Agatha removed the headphones and let them hang around her neck as she glanced over at the person.

He... he looked familiar. Agatha quickly realized she was staring and her face only burned more as she let out a nervous laugh. "Sorry, I--I totally missed that," she admitted with some embarrassment. As the words left her mouth, though, and the young man's features seemed to set into her mind, it all triggered a name. A look of recognition dawned on Agatha's face. "Jesse... right? Jesse Blackmore?" she asked, praying to Merlin and Morgana she wasn't completely off and would just be making a fool of herself. Usually, Agatha was quite good with fitting names to faces. And, if her memory served her right, Jesse had been a pretty unforgettable person, even in the one year they had shared at Hogwarts. He had been nice, despite his habit of ending up in the hospital wing. If anything, Agatha thought his daring stunts had been pretty entertaining. But it had also been about over a year since she had heard anything about Jesse Blackmore.

@jesseb | 789 words | outfit

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

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Heaven Can Wait

And All I Got Is Time

I Won't Look Back

Most nights he spent staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. The rest he spent bruised after paying to jump into the fighting ring that Other Jesse had brought him too. He was working on becoming a bartender there in the time that he wasn't required to be doing his janitorial duties but it was slow going currently. It was hard to focus when he had no injection of optimism coming from any aspect of his life and the crushing weight of everything always made his shoulders creak from where they held it. The money he made from the cuttings of every fight he participated in -- and won - were mesly, barely enough to feed him as it was, but he was putting it all towards getting a new guitar from Porter's. His old one had been taken from him and probably burned or vanished, for all he knew, and his hands were itching to pluck some strings. As bruised and battered as they were currently, the scabs split if he played for too long when he came to the music shop simply to unwind, yet he pushed through it. He refused to give up this one talent he had. As soon as the borders opened... who knew. Maybe Jesse would finally have the balls to make a run for it and chance losing his life. It would be for a second time. It wasn't like he had much of a life as it was now. Nothing worth salvaging, besides his friendships, as sparse and few between as they were.

At least the music had never left him. The night he nearly passed away from exhaustion, starvation and cold, only to be saved by Finn... Jesse had had a tune in his head. An intricate melody that spoke of somewhere warm and open, somewhere without oppressive weights, where it was bright. Home. The afterlife. He didn't know. All he knew was that it hadn't left him since they'd gotten out of the Kolnas and got help to find suitable places to live and now he was actually working on playing it on a six-string and writing down the notes as they flowed from his fingers. It probably wouldn't ever come to anything unless the world finally woke up - since people had lost their magic - and saw they were still human beings, in which case he wanted to go home. He had family there. Friends. A chance at making it as a musician, finally, doing something with the talent he had instead of using it to help him cope with reality as it stood. Jesse didn't have a reason to stay in Britain after the borders opened, really, as if he escaped then he'd be free from persecution. He'd be able to send things to the Other Jesse and his other friends from a zone of safety and then he could work on getting them out as well. This... what he currently was. He was a walking shell of a person. An animated corpse. Jesse couldn't even remember the last time he smiled-

His journey past the record stacks to the string section was halted by a familiar head of blond curls, sandwiched between a pair of overly large headphones. The sleeve of the record showed the Weird Sisters and he bit his lip, rounding the side of the witch to get a better look at her face. Then.. then the skin on his lips split a little as a grin lit up his face, and his frozen hands slid into his jacket. "Oh jeez, Agatha? Is that really you?" he heard himself say, shaking his head. Then he hit his hand off his head as he realised he had just asked her a question she couldn't hear... and proceeded to say that too. "Not that you can hear me, duh, wow I look like an utter dolt-"

He broke off as she slid down the headphones, blushing, and said his name. He grinned again, rocking back on his heels and ducking his head to stare at his toes as he nodded, his own blush faintly tinging his cheeks. "Yeah... yeah it's me. Hey, Agatha. How's it hangin'?" His near-black eyes lifted to her's, his head tilted to the side as he planted his feet firmly on the floor. Visions of his escapades, including the one where he bruised his ribs and always managed to run into her on the way into or out of the hospital wing swam back to him and he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. This... this wasn't how he had wanted to see his friends, again.

TAG: @agatha | WORDS: 779| NOTES: bloop

MEL @ ADOXOGRAPHY

[attr="class","backguni"]

[attr="class","lyric1uni"]heaven for everyone

[attr="class","lyricbguni"]

[attr="class","lyric2de"]JUST YOUR SMILE CAN SMOOTH MY RIDE
THESE TROUBLED DAYS OF CRUEL REJECTION
YOU COME TO ME, SOOTHE MY TROUBLED MIND

[attr="class","textboduni"]Agatha thought she was pretty lucky, all things considered. Yes, she had lost her magic. And that had been horrible. Agatha was comfortable not being around magic, of course. She had a muggle grandfather, and her parents were very open--she was related to the Dearborns, after all. But magic had just been a part of her for so long, it felt strange to be without it. The young blonde would still reach for her want to try to apparate or summon a cup of coffee--only to stop short and realize that nothing was happening. It was shaping up to be a tough adjustment, but Agatha was trying to stay positive. Because it could've been worse. At least, she could still take her Lufkin classes, and she was really enjoying those. Her history classes had already sparked a streak of curiosity, resulting in Agatha's apartment being entirely covered in old newspaper archives from 1800s America. And, thankfully, Whit still wanted her around, despite usually showing up with soot on her shirts from using the Floo so much.

Things were tough, but not impossible. Agatha knew she had it better than most. She definitely had it better than the muggleborns. That was something that had never sat well with the young witch. Her parents had both been in the Order, and she knew very well what that meant. Agatha couldn't agree more, really--everything that purebloods stood for was just madness. It was wrong. And, honestly, this epidemic was doing a great job of showing that magic was a lot more fickle than purebloods liked to believe. It didn't matter who your parents were, or what your name was. Magic was a gift, as far as Agatha was concerned, and there was nothing more to it. But that didn't change the fact that there was a Lestrange in power. That didn't change the fact that the people that wanted to do what was good were... powerless, really.

The smile on Agatha's face widened as her recognition of the blonde in front of her was confirmed--and thank Merlin, that would've been embarrassing. But no, it was Jesse. He had been a year ahead of her, and a transfer from Ilvermorny. Agatha fondly remembered him with a fun and outgoing aura. Someone with a contagious smile. If she was being entirely honest with herself, she had likely harboured a secret crush for the boy that kept ending up in the infirmary--but Agatha was just a little too shy to have ever admitted that too him. Perhaps the reddening of her face from time to time would have given her away... something that felt eerily familiar to how hot her face was in that moment. "Wow--it's been so long. It's good to see you," Agatha replied with a warm smile as she looked up at Jesse. It really was nice to see him, but as she took in the signs of exhaustion, another detail about the former Hufflepuff came to mind--his blood status. "I'm doing all right. There's been a lot going on, but--" she started to answer, cutting herself off from entering a ramble about everything. He knew. Of course, he knew. "Well, everyone's in the same sinking ship. How about you, though? How are you holding up?" Agatha asked kindly. She set down the record in her hands, turning to face him better with a sincere smile on her face.

@ secret crush | 566 words | outfit

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

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