sturgismore

[sturgismore]

a smile rested on his lips as he got up to his floor, keys making some noise as he spun them around his finger. he couldn’t shake off the smile - no, the GRIN - no matter how hard he tried, and oh, how he hoped it’d stay there indefinitely. his feet were so light, his chest was so light, and even in the dark night, nothing seemed to weigh him down. when the hell had that happened ? he remembered the moments amelia’s presence had brought him more than amusement, the first proper conversations, but couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he’d fallen so head over heels. how could one kiss bring him such unfiltered joy ? as he opened the door, he imagined the next morning. they’d decided to meet, properly, just the two. he hoped they wouldn’t talk much ( sturgis wasn’t quite ready for that yet ) but all he could think of was the warmth of her lips back on his, her smile, her eyes, her everything. he had half a mind to go back in that very moment just to steal another kiss, but before he could notice, he was on the other side of the door.

sturgis left it open as he took in the scene. the lights, electrical, wouldn’t turn on, but the lights from the city outside shone through the windows, illuminating broken furniture, open drawers, a hole on the wall to the kitchen. the shock, worlds away from the bliss he had been living in just a heartbeat earlier, took his breath away. someone had done this. “ RITA! ASTRA! “ sturgis didn’t know what he’d do if he found one of his roommates’ bodies somewhere in the house. panic clogged up his throat as he reached for his wand, every bit of training from the order ringing loudly in his head. every room he entered seemed to be empty, but destroyed. the journalist rushed to the bathroom, finding a hole in the tiled floor there, and answers rushed in immediately. under it, he had been hiding a crucial piece of evidence. in his room, another hole in the wall. his desk, blown up. three weeks earlier, at st. mungo’s, he and benjy had gotten photos proving a high level ministry advisor, mulciber, was a death eater. three weeks earlier they’d painted the targets, and at last, mulciber hit them. his fingers shake a bit as he grabs some of the shards, smelling slightly burned - the spells has been cast recently. the feeling that he truly wasn’t alone dawned on him, as did one urgent thought: if they got to him, they got to benjy.

with his back to the door of the room, he doesn’t see the figure just outside, but hears the curse. barely dodging it, sturgis rolls on the floor and behind his bed, eyes wide, sweat on his skin. they found him, they found him, they found him. there was no time to overthink it all, but to simply grasp onto his wand with all he could and fire back. it missed, hitting a lamp, which fell to the floor, and the cloaked figure fired back - sturgis knew just who was behind the mask and hood. “ MULCIBER. “ he waits for confirmation, and it comes in the form of curses, just as expected. the man ducks for a moment, before rising up, another spell thrown in the other’s way. the contrast is stark. mulciber is casting to kill, every dodged spell burning big holes in the surrounding area. sturgis is trying to disarm him. damn him and his morals, his light conscience, his clean hands. such spells were never enough of a match.

something hits him, shards of a broken window, cutting deep gashes on his skin from which blood pours. with a wince, and warmth in his eyes from the sudden pain, sturgis’ wand is unwavering. sturgis’ courage is unwavering. was this why they placed him in gryffindor, lifetimes ago ? to not run, to not crawl, to not cry ? was this the bravery he had been searching for ? his spells make mulciber take a few steps back, and once he notices, the battle has been moved to the living room - but it stops abruptly as his wand is ripped from his hands with magic. “ no, no. “ the sounds escape his lips with grief, the sudden realisation that he’s alone, unarmed, bleeding. he wonders, in that moment, if mulciber got to benjy first, or if he’s on his way to the other man right after him. he wonders if he too bled. he hopes he didn’t.

it turns into a chase. sturgis, dripping red and sweat, running from spells and from the other man, hiding behind doors and furniture. the small flat seems three times bigger to him, but there’s a clear goal: the door. still open, he hopes. if he could only reach it, run out, contact the order. aurors. anyone. every new hiding place comes with thoughts so overwhelming they make him feel sick. one is that, if he kills him and benjy, and takes away the evidence, the truth will be buried. who knows how many decisions he’ll be able to influence from his government position ? how much access he has is terrifying. that brings a sort of ambition he often forgot he had - there’ll be no big story. all of it will have been in vain.

a shaky hand touches the side of his face lightly, wincing in pain at the results of the glass, some of it still there. his fingers come back deep red. this is what he signed up for when he joined the order. this is what he signed up for when he became a reporter, bringing truth in the middle of a war. his job, his pursuit, his passion, his MISSION. the curse which just passed him by was a killing curse, and he knows it. clinging to life behind that door, one thought is louder than the rest. it’s too soon. his life, in shambles for as long as he could remember, seemed to be finally taking shape, and he had so many plans for it. he was quitting drinking soon. he was finishing his investigative pieces. he was kissing amelia one more time. the people in his life flash by, as he invisions their futures, which he had truly believed he’d live to be a part of. amelia, a first date, a wedding, a first child, a future. benjy, growing old and cranky right by his side, but still having the same smile that could rival the sun. daisy, with her stories on every front page, achieving the glory he swore he could see in her. edgar, as a minister, fair and kind, the sort of political hero history remembers fondly. astra, old, fulfilled, still with a heart bigger than what everyone could see. moody, head of the auror office. andromeda, with the peace she so deserved ( perhaps they’d talk one day about the way they’d participated in each other’s destruction, enablers of the worst kind, but how they’d gotten stronger together, in a journey long and painful but oh, so worth it ). mundungus, clean, sober, redeemed. even all those he wished no good to, he’d hoped to see their fall with his own eyes. rodolphus lestrange and lucius malfoy in jail. mulciber’s trial. the rest of the order flickered by his blue eyes too, fleeting memories. james, lily, emmeline, mary, peter, alisa, sirius, frank, molly, diggle… spells hit everything around him as he ran and hid some more, but the names kept going. what if they grew old, war scarred but OLD, and he was another sad paragraph of their tales ? ‘sturgis podmore was killed in 1980 ‘. what legacy was he really leaving for them to speak of ?

1980. he’d die at twenty seven. he’d die younger than his mother. the thought hits him like a sharp knife, taking away his breath, distracting him enough for something to hit him, sending him back against the wall with a painful thud. not dead, not dead. with one hand holding onto his side ( he’s certain something’s severely injured there ), he manages to escape into the hall, the open door right there. it’s too soon. he has so many regrets. he needs to stop drinking, find out what holes he’s filling with vice. he needs to have another big story. he needs to help more people. to make a good effort for the war. he’s never been outside of the country, he wants that. he wants a dog, maybe. a house to call his own. learn how to make a better pie. little things fill his mind. funny. he never thought his last moments would be like that, running around in a nearly all broken house, in the dark, a shimmer in his eyes, trembling hands, thinking about how he wanted to bake better desserts. those little parts of life he’d never cherished before felt like the most important things.

the door is right there. if he could only reach it, leap down the stairs, run until the outside world is loud, he can almost feel the breeze, he can almost taste the air, violent against his injuries, he can almost feel the light under the streetlamp, he can almost - the curse hits him in the same way one holds their breath. it’s quick, sharp, unexpected, and regardless of how much he wants, how much will there’s in him, it’s too late. that breath is released, but none is taken back.

sturgis podmore is murdered on his doorstep, spells hindering the noise of the commotion to reach bystanders. he’s found by his roommates as they arrive at their floor and see the open door, the corpse lying there, one hand fallen just outside of the exit - he almost made it. he dies without knowing if benjy did too. he dies without knowing if the truth will ever get out, if it was worth something. he dies with one last soft memory, and with bitterness for all those that will never be.

[sturgismore]

ironbvnes:

for some reason, she’s almost surprised when he responds with the same intensity as she’s giving him. she’a always wondered if her feelings for him were reciprocated, or if was just wishful thinking on her part. but now she KNOWS, and she can’t imagine what it was like when she didn’t. how did she survive so long without holding him the way she was now ? without touching him, really touching him ? it was torture, she was certain. but now that she was wrapped in his embrace, melted against him with her lips against his, she feels like this is where she’s meant to be. he was so WARM, so soft, and she never wants to leave. all she can think about is how she just wishes she had done it sooner. all the wasted time, if only she had known, or hadn’t been so SCARED to take a chance. for someone so naturally sure of herself, she had never been able to be completely sure of him. until now. as he begins to pull back, she only grips him tighter, afraid that he might disappear if she lets him go. a hand runs through his hair, where her fingers had been buried in not long before. she doesn’t want to ruin the moment, pop the bubble with her pragmatism before they even got the chance to start. “maybe not now, but it might be later.” her voice is faint, a soft whisper among deep breaths spilling from her lips. “but it’s worth the risk. i mean, you’re worth the risk.” falling in love in the middle of a war was strictly FORBIDDEN in amelia bones’s book, but this time, she wasn’t even given the chance to decide. all of the sudden she was falling head first ( no warning ) for the last person she’d ever dreamed of liking. but his passion for the truth, dedication for justice and relentless nature quickly won her over and suddenly, he was the only thing on her mind. after a long day at work, his smile was what she looked forward to seeing the most, even if it meant listening to that damn tennis ball all meeting long . he was worth everything, and more. and now she could finally tell him that. “i want to try. if you do. i’m all in, sturgis. ” these words that fell so effortlessly from her lips were ones she’d never imagined she’d be telling him, only in her wildest dreams were they a reality. her deep brown eyes search his, this time without the fear of gazing TOO long and getting caught. her arms find solace around his neck, body still pressed into his as she offers him a sheepish grin. “i guess i have that stupid ball to thank.” she laughs, shaking her head slightly as she glances down  at it, clearly forgotten several moments ago. but as her gaze settles on his again, one of her hands finds his, fingers lacing themselves through his. a promise : she wasn’t letting him go anytime soon.

she doesn’t pull away. it almost hurts how much that realisation makes all of him burn, fire within melting sturgis until there is nothing left of him. it ushers in life. amelia didn’t pull away, and instead tried to get him even closer, as if that very fire could fuse the two together. when he opens his eyes, afraid, slowly, she’s still there, and he can feel her grip tighter on him. his mirrors just that. “ we can handle later when it comes. “ he’s never realised how many hues are in her big eyes, and he takes that moment, so quiet, so blissful, so private to count them. analysing every different shade, how it melts into the next, which spark shines the most. then his eyes move to the rest of her face as she speaks, and he takes in every single detail as if it’s the first and last time he’ll ever see her. amelia is breathtaking, that he knows, and has for a while, but looking at her so closely has him all out of air, and he memorises every feature right then and there. engraved in his mind for the rest of his life. he doesn’t deserve it. you’re worth the risk. he wants to whisper, or even shout it back, but she knows it already. it’s written all over his face and on how little he’s always cared about risk. the only concern he has is how to make her see someone worthier sturgis himself wouldn’t notice. she’ll run away as soon as she takes a closer look, he thinks. something about him will tip her off, make her flee and leave him there, standing where he’d held her, lips forever tainted, never to meet such heaven again. the beaten down thing pulsing in his chest bleeding out. the thought alone makes him hold her even tighter, dropping soft and casual kisses on her cheeks and the corners of her lips as she speaks. perhaps if they never speak too much, perhaps if he keeps his eyes closed, the ruin in them hidden, amelia will never notice. perhaps he can make it all work. perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. “ i’ve been all in for as long as i can remember. “ he stops to look at her, that beautiful grin forcing one back into his lips, and he dares to imagine, for a moment, if it will always be that way. if her grins will create his own even when he thinks them impossible. if her happiness can really keep the sun out for however long they have. the thought alone calms some of his concerns. he laughs, unexpectedly, eyes searching for the little green thing rolling around the foor, dropped and forgotten. “ the tennis ball is endearing and you know it. “ his hand runs down her cheek before it’s caught by amelia’s, and he never imagined one hand could hold him with such stability. it grounds him. he holds it just as tightly, thumb sometimes circling around the back of her hand, caressing it slightly, but his eyes remain on hers. oh, he is so full of love. won’t say it, far too soon and unsure still, but every inch of him is covered in it, spilling out, dripping on the floor, on her, on everything. “ can we... “ he almost looks pleading, afraid any words will endanger the future. “ can we talk about this tomorrow. “ where is all that courage of a gryffindor ? amelia makes him weak, terrified. “ uncomplicate it then. whatever you need, whatever decisions. for right now, “ the words are spoken against her lips, his own grazing them at every sound, his hand so tightly wrapped in hers, “ just stay here. “ people will start pouring into that room soon and he can’t imagine how he’ll manage to go through it all without holding her so close, now that he’s had a taste of it. perhaps he’ll sit somewhere else. somewhere close. try to steal her hand under the table, try to press his knee against hers, try to look at her even when she’s staring. “ right here. TOMORROW, “ another promise, they made so many so quickly, “ tomorrow we discuss. today, please, let me just, “ the kiss pressed against her lips is short and softer than before, “ let us just have this. right now, it’s not complicated. i swear, ames. “ another kiss, slightly longer. “ and i’ll untangle this tomorrow. “ for you, he adds, but isn’t sure if she can hear it, as half the sounds are spoken with his lips already on hers. for you. sturgis will repeat that many more times, he’s certain. for you, for you, for you.

[sturgismore]

[sturgismore]

daisyborn:

   ❛   aren’t   you   the   one   always   telling   me   to   stop   fucking   the   rules !    and   that   if   i   get   caught   borrowing   files   they’re   going   to   get   the   aurors   involved   again ?  ❜    her   dad(s)   would   be   proud ,   well   on   second   thought   idris   hookum   definitely   would   not               but   alastor   moody   sure   as   hell   would .   grabbing   two   glasses   from   an   overhead   cupboard   and   the   bottle   of   whiskey   from   the   counter   she   turns   to   the   kitchen   island   placing   them   down .   she   hasn’t   bothered   covering   the   aftermath   of   st.   mungo’s  on   her   face   with   make   up ,   not   since   her   second   day   home .   every   glance   in   the   mirror   a   startling   reminder   of   the   horrific   things   that   happened   there   that   day   but   also   that   she   survived .   made   it   out ,   bruised ,   battered ,   bleeding   and   barely   clinging   to   life   but   out   nonetheless …    something ,   sadly ,   a   lot   others   couldn’t   say .   she’s   unscrewing   the   cap   to   the   bottle   when   she   sees   strugis   make   his   way   into   the   kitchen   from   the   corner   of   her   eyes ,   feeling   the   wrap   of   his   arms   around   her   only   a   few   second   later .   odd   at   first   but ,   ultimately   comforting .    reciprocating   the   embrace   she   wraps   her   arms   around   him ,   a   sigh   tumbling   past   tired   petals . 

     ❛   i’m   okay   sturg ,    better   than   i   was   two   weeks   ago                but   if   you   squeeze   any   tighter   i   think   i   might   crack   another   rib .   ❜   tone   is   playful ,    grateful . .   happy   she   has   friends   that   care   so   much   about   her .   as   he   breaks   the   hold   she   pulls   back   to   look   at   him ,   smallest   hint   of   a   smile   on   her   face .    ❛   i   think   works   going   to   have   to   wait   just   a   little   longer .   but ,   you   should   definitely   buy   a   new   suit ,   preferably   something   blue   to   bring   out   your   eyes .  ❜    she   holds   back   a   laugh   as   she   pours   a   generous   amount   of   drink   in   both   their   glasses . 

“ alright, i’m trying to be nice and shit, but i guess you can’t take my love. that’s fine. i’m not offended. “ he lets go with a grin, full of amusement, full of love. sturgis might not sound like it most of the time, but his heart is big, cracking his own ribs in search of space, hurting himself with how much love he contains. in rare moments like that, it’s visible. it’s also especially visible as a hint of laughter comes out of his lips, almost in disbelief, fully ignoring her words about work. “ you’re saying yes ! what the hell are you doing here ? apparate, go tell him, the man’s losing his bloody mind ! i was ! “ he can’t shake off the smile, moving around the kitchen to keep facing her anyway. daisy isn’t getting off the hook that easily. “ i’m the best man. he hasn’t asked, but he doesn’t need, i don’t care. you, “ a finger pointing at her in an almost accusatory tone, despite the softness of the words to follow, “ are full of surprises. this is a big decision, but you’re doing it anyway. “ i’m proud, was implied. “ how are you gonna say it ? just yes doesn’t cut it, does it ? what’s your plan ? “ he wouldn’t and couldn’t shut up, electric, only quieting down when he took a break to sip on his glass. 

[sturgismore]

peacvck:

oh, he was growing tired of reporters like podmore. idealistic, young people who thought they would MAKE it as a journalist by trying to prod people like him. did they not know that he’d been taught to talk to press from a young age? that lies flood through his bloodstream? probably, which made them all the more annoying. “ah, mr podmore,” he said, politeness lacing his tongue, a smile on his lips still. “of course not.” it wasn’t as if the other had given him room to reply to his request, but he’d not let it go unanswered. he wasn’t so easily caught of guard. “i’m very much aware, yes. it’s hard to imagine, of course — i grew up with some of these people, after all.” a deep sigh. “but who knows what people are capable of, in these times?” a sip of his champagne. “all i can do is focus on myself, and hope the authorities do their BEST to find out which people are behind these attacks. for now, i’m trying to just give back, to help those in need, use my position for the betterment of society. it’s what we need.”

lucius malfoy painted his own target, insisting on both being a massively public figure and letting his suspicious personal life be off limits. it was a paradox sturgis refused to engage in. “ do you think there’s anything in specific about that social circle that BREEDS death eaters? “ lies, lies, lies. he could feel them in the air, blocking his view of the other man, protecting him from the world around them in which he so deserved to feel the repercussions of his actions. if anything, of his beliefs. one thing that bothered him about the entire war was how masked it was, in part certainly by the ministry and by the daily prophet. the connection between pureblood bigotry and the war was often overlooked, or it was blamed on a simple conceptual search for power. but no, it wasn’t power anyone searched, it was supremacy over a belief of blood purity. the man in front of him believed in that. his family believed in that. his friends believed in that. “ the concept of a sacred family, perhaps ? belief in the superiority of wizards ? wouldn’t that lead people to believe then that it’s far easier to imagine what people are capable of, in these times, if they’d do it due to the ideologies they’ve been open about all their lives ? “ he scribbled what the other man said with a pen, the quill floating next to him taking more exact notes - his were more for logic, formulate following questions. “ would you go in for questioning about other purebloods if the DMLE asked you to ? “ he would lie in there too, sturgis knew. “ regardless, your efforts are certainly appreciated. “ unfortunate politeness had to leave his lips, but there was no emotion to it. auto-pilot. get it over with, keep proding into the other man’s story.

[sturgismore]

alisuhs:

despite the anger that sparks in the pit of her stomach,   alisa remains calm.      you seem pretty comfortable with this.      her heart breaks at that.      she’s been called a lot of things in her line of work                   cold,   uptight,   harsh                   but complacent has never been one of them.      as if she could ever be at ease with the line of ghosts trailing behind her,   reminders of the numerous times she should have been one of them.      tone is sharp when she responds.      ❝   none of us are comfortable with any of this.      but you’re right,   it is my job to know the options and the risks,   and it’s childish of you to think i haven’t considered as many as i possibly can.      i’m doing everything in my power,   sturgis,   so you either take my word for it,   or you don’t.    ❞       shoulders lift in a shrug,   a wordless up to you.      there’s a moment where she takes a deep breath                   in   /   out ;    as if she can will her own frustrations away                   before her voice softens.      before eyes melt from s t o n e,   into something more tired.      ❝    for your sake,   when this is all over,   i really hope you can.      i want you to be able to live with the choices you make and not regret any of them.      but sometimes,   for the sake of other people,   it’s not so black and white.    ❞

childish. he can feel every hint of regret fade away as he gives alisa one long look. that is the order’s way, is it not ? to ignore him every single time, dismiss his concerns as childish, as extreme, as absurd. to stick to their narrative of the ends justifying their means. “ i don’t doubt that. but the problem is just that: you think like a general. that’s important and necessary, but we are not an army, alisa. “ a truth he finds hard to swallow hits him then, as it often does in such discussions - the ones in charge do see the rest as their army. that level of responsability is a beast of a burden on her, moody, dodge, mcgonagall, dumbledore. sturgis rubs his eyes, hoping to get rid of the bitterness in them, hoping to let his message translate properly, that he simply NEEDS to see things done right, humanely, morally. her words confirm his thoughts. “ you too. which is why we can’t just jump into these decisions. “ his tone softens as well, and above all, he just looks tired. scared, even. what are they becoming ? “ i’d like to know what others did to keep me alive, if it was for me. because my life isn’t worth ten, plus all our souls combined. i just can’t do this mission. call me back when there’s one i won’t regret, because i just can’t, alisa. “ 

[sturgismore]

That’s what friendships are made of.

Nick and Schmidt, friends for life.

Requested by @msachsen

[sturgismore]

Cece and Nick are basically the same person.

[sturgismore]

It was beautiful and it was kind!

[sturgismore]

ironbvnes:

“yes, you’ve made me speechless, podmore, but don’t let it get to your head, though. this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” it doesn’t take long for amelia to force a laugh, shaking her head. she would not be VULNERABLE, not today, not in front of him. that’s why she goes out of her way to meet him halfway, ball in hand. that, and to feel his fingertips brush against her skin like she knew they would. it was a little game they always played, trying to see how much contact they could have without ever really touching, something they’d become experts in over the past few months. “and give you the satisfaction of me throwing the ball ? never.” she almost laughs at that. it was no secret that the tennis ball annoyed her more than anything, especially with how relentless he was with it during meetings. but now, it faded into the background, the last thing on her mind. now, all she can focus on is him. more specifically, the aura that seemed to surround him wherever he went, the one that made her want to be kinder, work harder, be BETTER. she’s always dreamed about what it would be like with him, but has never had the guts to ask him. maybe today was her day. amelia’s mind is racing, and then suddenly, it all makes sense. there was no question, not when he was sitting right in front of her, wearing that stupid grin that made her knees weak. she glances to the door, no sign of movement behind it. then out the window, to the nearly abandoned street. back to the door again. this was their chance. her heart beats faster and faster and then… “this is just going to make everything more complicated        “ she pauses, as if she’s waiting for something, or rather, someone to talk herself out of it. but then she decides for herself. “but i don’t care anymore.” for once, amelia doesn’t think. it happens quickly, first she’s leaning down, palms cupping his cheeks and then her lips crash into his. they’re intentionally soft, yet they hold so much. all the months of stolen glances across the room, pretending he hardly existed when really, he was ALL she could think about -  was all for this. and it was well worth the wait.

“ i’ll keep on trying, don’t worry. “ it seems like the most important goal in his life in that very moment, to keep her surprised and speechless. he hopes the same from her and, so far, she’s been delivering, having him struggle to keep up, wich he so loves. he wishes his hand never had to leave hers, frozen in that moment, so tingling, so soft against her skin, so tempting, but the tennis ball is back in his hand - the man, however, doesn’t move an inch back, staying unbearably close to her instead. anyone walking in could see and FEEL the tension, as if the entire air in the room was gone, both holding their breaths. “ you seem to think i care way more about this than i do. “ lies. nothing would make him shut up if she actually threw the ball back and they both know it, but he laughs slightly anyway, words coming out as amused whispers, the sound of their voices so low and near making all of him shiver slightly. it’s like they’re in a little bubble. no, no, it’s like they’re on the edge of a cliff, holding tense to see if the other will take the leap first, feeling the gravel falling beneath their feet at every word, every move, every breath. it feels DANGEROUS. it feels... complicated. he follows her eyes, drifting from place to place, and clings to her words with anticipation, wondering if perhaps she’ll do what he hopes she does. he doesn’t ask. he doesn’t move. he just holds himself by the edge of the cliff in wait for a sign that it’s time to jump. sturgis doesn’t dare blinking or breathing as he hands move to him, properly touching him, they’re no longer stealing soft grazes but actually HOLDING each other, and when her lips crash against his, he doesn’t dare open his eyes and be faced by whatever horrible truth will follow. that’s how good things always go for him. he looks again and they’re either gone or regretted, and he’s left with nothing but a bitter taste in his mouth. he won’t let that happen this time. amelia doesn’t CARE. what has he done to her ? when has she started enjoying the complicated, which was all they could be, all sturgis could be ? his hands are impatient, after holding themselves for months, moving softly from her cheeks, which he holds with the care one would hold the world, her hips, which he brings closer, as if there was any space left between them, her back, in an almost hug, like there was any way to show more affection than the way his lips formed into a grin despite being tangled with hers. amelia bones was kissing him. amelia bones wasn’t joking, wasn’t pretending to be annoyed, wasn’t looking at him from across the room with a look one would only give should they think the other wasn’t looking. amelia bones was right there, in his arms, holding him in a way he could feel all his pieces getting back into place. coming out for air is one of the most painful things he’s ever done in his life, but he doesn’t dare letting go of any other part of her, hands still pulling her closer, forehead and nose pressured against her. before he can hold it in, sturgis is laughing, something soft, unfiltered, faint. “ it doesn’t look complicated. “

[sturgismore]

[sturgismore]

macdvnald:

“will you cut the curse words out of my quote?,” she asked, eyeing sturgis. mary wasn’t a very eloquent person, in all truth, and she knew that. she did, however, know how to string a few cursewords together nicely and to make an impact with those, especially when angry. and fucking hell, she was angry. “nice pen, by the way.” she cleared her throat, then, trying to gather the right words in her head, glueing them together into sentences. “i mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it? none of the people involved in the st mungo’s attack were arrested or caught, and now they’re cocky. these attacks have been common for years, but now they feel even MORE entitled to wreaking havoc than they did before, because they got away with that massacre. it’s terrible, and unsurprising, and even more terrible because of that.”

“ i’ll censor them because of prophet’s rules. “ sometimes writing a long string of curse words instead of the daily news was sturgis’ preference, but sadly it wasn’t acceptable. the reporter nodded with a faint smile at her acknowledgement of his pen - quills were archaic, useless and bothersome. as the woman spoke, sturgis took quick note of it all, nodding along. the truth she spoke was harsh, just enough to grip reader’s attentions but still be outside of the realm of sensationalism. “ some people have been pointing out that society’s anti-muggle sentiments have grown as well since the attack. like it was validated by those actions. do you feel like the general public is to blame or just extremists like the death eaters ? “ 

[sturgismore]

alisuhs:

she wishes she could say she was surprised by sturgis’ reappearance.      but frankly,   she’s not.      ❝   you mean you won’t do it.      or you don’t want to.    ❞       alisa finally lifts her gaze from the papers spread before her,   leveling on the journalist before her.      ❝    don’t get me wrong,   sturgis,   i admire your morality,   but these missions do all serve a purpose.     ❞      suicidal.      as if they didn’t have five different contingency plans in place at any moment to try and ensure everyone’s safety.      as if they would ever send any of them out into the field without backup plans lettered a through z.      ❝    but i hear your concerns and i can take your issues with these plans to the others,   i can’t promise anything,   but i’ll see what i can do for you.    ❞

“ there are other ways to do this. don’t bullshit me, alisa, you know it. it’s your job to know it. “ every time he raised his concerns, they were ignored - we are above the law, sturgis. we do what aurors can’t, sturgis. this is the most effective way. now, the order had just taken the final step, asked one thing too much. alisa happened to be the one in charge of that specific mission and, sadly, the one to face his frustration. “ will you, really ? because you seem pretty comfortable with this. as does everyone. you do realise that this war will end someday, and we’re ALL going to have to carry on. i’d like to sleep at night after this. “ he exhaled, bringing himself back to a calmer composure, an apologetic look in his eyes, but he wouldn’t say a thing. his brutal honesty was his mark, and he wouldn’t hide it. 

[sturgismore]

[sturgismore]

queenofquills:

           “ the sound of success too much for you to handle, i take it? “ she replies, the sharpness of her words matching his perfectly. QUESTIONABLE living situations aside, she doesn’t completely hate him. most of the time. almost even likes the idea of bouncing ideas off him, every once in a while. only the bad ones though. she doesn’t trust him enough to ever share anything worthwhile. “ you should know by now that i not only work hard. i also work smart, “ she says, a brisk smile tugging at her lips. “ try it sometime, you might find you like it. “ smirk stays put, and she takes a long sip of her orange juice, never breaking eye contact. “ sturgis. i’m always working on something special. check the front page tomorrow and you’ll see. “

“ success gained through unethical means isn’t real success. “ he’d lost count how many times he had told her just that. the thing about rita wasn’t her personality ( which he found quite refreshing, something to keep him on his teos, struggling to keep up, FUN even ) but her morals, as corrupt as those he interviewed. she didn’t care about upholding the truth, or about doing things the right way. success ws the only thing on her mind and that shook him to his core. the positive? pushed him to do even better. he sure as hell wasn’t going to lose whatever competition their careers were to HER. “ sure, if you call working smart creating inflamatory headlines that have shit to do with the real story, puff pieces, exaggeration, muddled facts... “ he only half paid attention to her, or so it seemed. “ cocky. there was nothing by you on the front page yesterday. my malfoy interview, however... “ sure, it wasn’t the main article there, but still took up a rather large space, with more on the inside. “ either way, i have shit to do, and an editor to contact soon, “ the implication being he needed to get to the editor earlier than her, share something earlier than her, beat her to it, “ so unless you wanna share some of that special stuff, i’m out. “

[sturgismore]

daisyborn:

   *  words   fall   short   as  sturgis   pushes   his   way   past   daisy   and   inside   her   family   home .    her   mother   had   left   an   hour   ago ,   something   about   a   meeting   and   she's   yet   to   see   her   dad   today .    something   tells   her   this  ‘ surprise ’   visit   is   anything   but   unplanned .    shutting   the   door   behind   them ,    she    crosses   her   arms ,   brow   quirking   at   him .   ❛    i’m sorry …   but   i’m   not   allowed   to   have   boys   over   when   i’m   home   alone .   ❜    funny ,   because   it’s   a   rule   she   used   to   break   a   lot   when   she   was   younger .   there   is   a   lilt   in   her   voice   as   she   speaks ,   ignoring   absolutely   everything   he   just   said   to   her .    ❛   – and   theres   an   open   bottle   in   the   kitchen   already ,    why   don’t   we   start   there .   ❜     walking   towards   him   she   takes   his   offerings   before   making   her   way   into   the   kitchen .   ❛   and   if   you   even   think   robes   were   ever   on   the   table ,    you   don’t   know   me   at   all .  ❜  she   calls   over   her   shoulder .

“ fuck the rules. an actual quote from you, at least once a week. “ her bruises were a sharp reminder of the hell she’d been through. perhaps that was why he visited her so sporadically - when he wrote, he didn’t have to face such an unwelcome sight. such a painful sight. when exactly had be started to care so much for the tiny loudmouthed office baby ? sturgis sighed, grunting slightly as he got up to follow her, away from the comfort of the couch, but inspired by the prospect of an open bottle and of her. “ good. “ his light smile faded away when he caught another glimpse of her, and a thought rushed through his mind. flowers, balloons, food - he had somehow missed the most important step in the relief that was finding her alive. bitting his lip slightly, as if to contain all the thoughts that opposed it, sturgis slowly pulled her closer by the shoulder, arms wrapping around his friend, a bit less gentle than he should be given her condition still. “ you look good. better. do you, uh, feel better ? “ the signs of the wounds were disappearing. sturgis realised then that he’d never hugged daisy - ONCE, perhaps, while drunk. there was a hazy memory of that, but honestly it could have been any other small brunette at the send off party of their last editor. “ now answer my questions. “ he let go, forcing a smile back to his lips. “ when are you coming back to work, and should i get a new suit ? “

[sturgismore]

bcnjys:

                        he hardly felt the glass slip from his hands,   when sturgis took it,   was too wrapped up in his head,   in the memory of daisy’s REACTION,   he proposed that night,   had been wanting to since the moment they’d met   —   but the silence was just a beat too long,   before she responds,   tells him she loves him but she needs to think,   please i need some time,   and he gets it   —   he does,   but fuck if every part of him isn’t screaming in a sort of pain he’s never quite felt before,   can’t see anything past the look in her eye,   the way she’d gone so completely still,   hadn’t even dared to take a BREATH,  beyond the initial gasp    ;    his knee was aching and he KNEW it was all in his head,   he hadn’t been on it that long,   it hadn’t been that LONG before she’d replied,   but bloody fuck every time he remembered it,    it felt longer,   was bordering on an eternity now.   when sturgis placed the glass back between his shaking palms,   he took a deep breath and brought it to his lips,   downed the entire thing in one long gulp,    ❝   fuck,   mate.   i hope she does.   i don’t know what ‘m gonna do if she says no.   how do i   —   i don’t wanna pressure her,   ya know,   but fuck.  ❞

there was something quite soft in the way he looked at his friend, especially when they were both so many glasses in. being so close with both benjy and daisy, the man stood in a priviledge position from where he could watch both sides fold and unfold, much to everyone’s desperation. “ okay. give me your glass. “ he ripped it back from his hands again, setting it on the table. after drinking his own at the same speed, he refilled the two. “ it’s daisy, you know. she’s just... afraid of the commitment. give her a sec, she’ll say yes. i can go pressure her. show up and ask when in the bleeding hell is she gonna say yes. as a best man - and i take your silence on that as a yes, definitely, of course sturg - it’s my JOB. “