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maggie — open

maggie: so, it's my first weekend back, and I don't have work until monday night.

maggie: you get where I'm going with this... right?

#t:open #because i'm going to lay down for a bit and figure... this is easy

mila → wrong number

mila: dinner for xmas eve?

mila: i won't cook because no one needs that, but I'll get something made.

#t:open #slchat #in which mila accidentally invites everyone over for xmas eve dinner?

TEXT || Dara -> ??

Dara: ok hear me out

Dara: if a ghost tastes like something, what do you think it tastes like?

Dara: I mean, like... if you could gather their spectral essence into an ice cream scoop or something. What flavor do you think that would be? Hypothetically?

#t:open #hes a dweeb #and he needs more friends #codstarter

Ceci ✉︎ OPEN

Ceci: Nothing says summer do-over like tequila and a bonfire

Ceci: are you game?

#t:open #luxorstart

TEXT: OPEN

Dom: serious question

Dom: do you think Scarlett will be into the idea of naming our kid Parker?

Dom: like Peter Parker. But don't tell her

#t:open

Where: Potter estate

When: February 23rd

It felt strange being here. Hestia had never really thought about the house belonging to someone, her mind having separated the estate from the owner it was named after. It had simply been headquarters to her, the place she went to for meetings, squabbling over the best way to make the world better. But now it felt impossible to not think of James Potter, the very name of the building a stark reminder. Inside was no better. Hestia had let her fingers run over the walls as she walked, troubled thoughts getting heavier with each footstep. It felt mournful.

Hestia had never been the skittish type. Her father had been fond of scary stories before bedtime, and she had spent seven years living in a castle filled with ghosts. Little unnerved her but this uncertainty did. There was no telling what would happen going forward, but there were steps to take in order to minimise risk. First step; be ready to balk if the orders came that the estate was unsafe. That meant gathering up loose ends. It felt almost silly coming back for a jumper, forgotten before things went sideways. But if the door got kicked down by enemy boots, it was best not to leave traces of who had been here, especially when the jumper held a notebook filled with scrawls that easily pointed to her.

She was moving chairs around, peering under tables, when she heard footsteps and a creaking door. Hestia glanced up - if looking for a jumper felt inconsiderate, asking for it felt even more so. But her father had always said that if you never asked, you’d never get an answer. “You haven’t seen a cardigan, have you? Teal blue, with a little notebook in its pocket. Or just the notebook on its own.”

#homenumstarter #t:open #(hello! a bit vague but here's hestia!)#(also someone please nudge me if i got anything wrong)

Text: Open ✉️

Leo: Are you going to this movie thing in Citrus?

Leo: Grease has never been my favourite movie and I guarantee it's all just gonna be a bunch of college kids making out, and angry parents covering their kids' eyes

#t:open