#regan1

[maggiemaewilds]

When: 25 November 1980 Where: The Burrow Who: Molly Weasley & Regan Higgs @reganhiggs​

Every time Molly turned around it seemed like someone else she cared about was getting hurt and she didn’t know how much more she could take. “No chance I could get you to move into the tent for a while, love?” She asked already knowing the answer. It wasn’t realistic, but she still had to ask.

[florencescamander]

When: 22 February 1980 Where: SCAAR Who: Florence Scamander & Regan Higgs @reganhiggs

“Hi!” Florence said happily as she greeted the familiar looking woman. “Are you here for the class on caring for your Frost Salamanders?”

[janamclaggen]

“-- Helga’s tits!” Jana jolted when she realized she wasn’t alone in the room she’d been snooping in.

@reganhiggs​

[nate-santos]

Down by the Water || Nate & Regan

@kadavernagh

Nate had maintained such a life of introversion and solitude that anyone walking into his sparsely decorated, family photo-less, no frills home would never have guessed he’d been in White Crest for the better part of a decade. There were no trophies, no photo albums, no concert tickets laying around to indicate years of life. Even the furniture itself was so meticulously organized and safeguarded, one might assume a newborn lived here if it weren’t for the lack of toys strewn about. 

The architect paced in his living room, somehow never truly giving into the stir crazy nature that locking yourself away for years would bring on most people. Fear of the unknown, or rather what he now knew was waiting for him, kept him safely squirreled away most days, and he was perfectly fine living in his own self-appointed bubble. It wasn’t until one day when Nate glanced out his window that he noticed something amiss in his yard that he flew into a panicked pacing frenzy. 

A series of footprints indicated the crime, small feet shuffling around his manicured front yard, leading from large hole to large hole. Missing were his novelty lawn gnomes and a few decorative stone turtles. Nate rarely left his house, but when he did, the small decorations were a steady and constant comfort and now they were gone. Not just gone - but stolen. The muddy footprints wound around the grass and out into the street, tracking dirt and grime but leaving no other trace of his possessions.  

For most, this may not be reason for a full blown panic attack, however for Nate, it felt like the crushing end of the world. He needed stability, and he sorely missed his trinkets, but at the same time, how was he supposed to go out and find the perpetrator of this heinous crime? The world was dangerous. What if, when he takes his first step out of the building, the loose shingle he’d been berating his landlord about for weeks decided this was the opportune time to fall right on his head, lodging itself in his brain? Not to mention if the thief was armed! If he found the person, what would he be able to do if he couldn’t simply convince them to hand over his gnomes? 

Was it worth it? Taking a tentative step towards his front door, Nate wound his fingers in his dark curls, pulling out a few hairs as he twirled. Mari had always wanted a lawn full of gnomes, the weirdest and silliest ones they could find. Nate had started this mild collection in her honor only a few years ago, but he felt devastated that any of them were now missing. He tapped his shoes against the bottom of his door, weighing the pros and cons of stepping outside. Of course, the cons far outweighed the pros, but there was something nagging at the pit of Nate’s stomach. He needed those gnomes back. He needed those small comforts that reminded him of the life he’d lost so many years ago, no matter how silly they might seem to anyone else.

With a loud huff and a stomach full of butterflies, Nate stepped out into the big bad world and set off following the set of muddy footprints out into the town.