#dab saga

[bright-and-burning]

gonna hop onto the dry ass bitch seminar to say that when I (vagina haver) was going thru a period where I was dehydrated as hell for a lot of odd reasons I was maxing out at like 1-2 orgasms and also was dry as hell to the point of needing lube to finger myself comfortably. now with like the appropriate fluid balance in my body I can do like 5-6 (still think 15 is incredible I salute you) and do Not have that problem anymore. just a thing to consider ig. people are probably different levels of wet/dry/whatever but you probably can’t be very wet if you don’t have a lot of wet in you to begin with

a third contender has entered the arena!! oooo yes so true hydrate or diedrate fr. or maybe drydrate is the second option here. i am typically well hydrated (i literally only drink water . and i drink a LOT of it) so this may be an influence !! (an aside: all this talk of numbers really has me wanting to come back to the table w something solid to report… alas i have work tomorrow and literally do not have the time to do that AND get enough sleep to function. i feel pretty confident abt 15 being the floor but i just don’t have the spare brain cells to keep track of that much). you probably can’t be very wet if you don’t have a lot of wet in you to begin with is BARS also

[minarinnn]

“notice me”

luke castellan x aphrodite!reader (pt2 here)

content/trigger warnings: fem! reader, doesn’t follow the plot of tlt!, mentions of smut, sexual tension, manipulation?, groping, reader making luke jealous

a/n: the show has once again sparked up my love for the percy jackson book saga and charlie bushnell has me weakkk ughhh.. i normally don’t write for pjo characters but oh well, lmk if y’all want a continuation of this or just more luke castellan in general ;)

you had always been so used to being the center of attention. as a daughter of aphrodite, you had always been the most popular girl in school, and there was no shortage of boys falling for your charms

arriving at camp half-blood didn change that, nothing was different. except that, for the first time in your life, you found yourself chasing after the attention of a certain boy. luke castellan, the son of hermes and the head counselor of his cabin, he just wouldn’t fawn over you like the others would. despite your best efforts, luke had always remained indifferent to your constant flirting, leaving you feeling frustrated and determined to change his mind

you found yourself spending every waking moment trying to get his attention, trying to find some way to charm him and make him see you the way the other boys did. but no matter how hard you tried, luke remained distant and unimpressed

this week you were extremely busy, you were helping out in the infirmary, one of the apollo kids who usually worked in the infirmary had been sent on a quest and you were asked to fill in until they came back. juggling that with all your other responsibilities as counselor had you beyond occupied

during that week, annabeth barged in with two other guys; percy and luke. apparently their sparring session had gone a little out of hand and they were both injured

luke was already aware of how you’ve been trying to get his attention these past few years. he actually seems to quite like having you, the most fawned over girl at camp, fawning over him instead. he liked the attention you gave him, though he knew that if he ever gave in to your charms you would stop, so he didn’t

he was fully prepared and expected you to be the one to tend to him, so when he sees you head to percy and tend to him while an apollo girl tended to him he was confused

what happened? why would you choose percy over him? we’re you tired of him? did you give up on trying to win him over? luke’s confusion quickly turned to frustration, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as he watched you tend to percy’s wounds

"how are you feeling, percy?" you asked, giving him a warm smile, one that always had the boys weak in the knees. "n-not great, but i’ll manage" he laughed awkwardly, suddenly nervous. you put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze "oh, i’m sure you’ll live”

out of the corner of your eye, you saw luke. he was watching you, watching the way you cared for percy. this was the first time you had ever caught him staring at you with such intensity

so you’re plan was working. you had tried everything to get his attention and you had only one trick left in your arsenal; jealosy. no boy is immune to jealousy, and that was exactly how you were gonna get him

in the end, all you had to do was throw some water at percy and he was good to go. luke though, he had to spend the night in the infirmary

the other apollo kid had left a few minutes ago, something about ‘having other things to do’. so it was just luke and you in the infirmary. you walk over to luke's bed and start tending to his wounds

“oh so now you wanna take care of me? how nice of you” he speaks, sarcasm dripping from his words. “you can tough it out, can't you?" you tease, dabbing away at his cuts with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. luke is watching you intently and you can feel the tension in the room increasing, his eyes fixated on your hands as you work

luke’s eyes narrow, and you can see the rage boiling beneath the surface. he’s frustrated, jealous, and he doesn't know what to do with all these emotions. you’ve never seen him like this before, and it's a thrill to know that you have the power to make him feel this way

you try to ignore the tense atmosphere in the room, focusing instead on luke's wounds. you finish cleaning and bandaging the cut on his wrist, holding it up to your face to land a soft kiss on the bandages. “all done” you whisper. he tenses at the feeling of your soft lips, and you can see the anger in his eyes. however, you can also see a hint of something else— desire

you look up at him with a smile, knowing that you've got him right where you want him. his eyes are locked on your every movement. you know that you have him wrapped around your finger, and it's a delicious feeling of power

luke’s expression is one of confusion, a mix of rage and desire. he wants you, and he wants to hate you at the same time. it’s a weird combo, but it's working for you.

you lean closer to him, your lips inches away from each other. you can feel his breath on your skin, the heat of his body as he's lying there

"you’re not stopping me" you state, breaking the silence. it’s a quiet, soft whisper, filled with a tiny bit of amusement

"maybe.. maybe i don’t want you to stop" he says, his eyes locked on yours, voice low and husky. you can see the desire building in him, how his gaze trails down to your lips

luke’s breathing quickened, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. he knew that this was a game for you, a game where you would always be determined to win him over, but now, in this very moment, he felt like he was losing

he lets out a hiss of frustration, of desire, of... something. he’s sure knows that you're proud of it, but he’s not quite sure what to do about it

you leaned in for the kiss, your lips pressing gently against his, your hand running through his hair. you could feel his body tensing, his hands gripping your waist as he attempted to pull you on top of him

you pull away from the kiss slowly, your lips still pressed to his. luke is still trying to catch his breath, his eyes fixed on yours, searching for any hint of what your next move will be

"not bad" you whisper. "you’re playing a dangerous game here” he chuckles lowly, making your lower regions throb. you smirk softly and brush his hair out of his face “i’ll take my chances”

despite being injured, he pulls you on top of him, making you realize just how hard he’s been this whole time. his eyes are dark, and you can see the lust burning within them

you lean in for another kiss, this one soft and gentle. luke groans when he feels you grind against him, his hands moving down to grab hold of your ass

“i need you s’bad” he mutters out. you smirk as you slide off him, making him furrow his brows in confusion. you land a soft kiss on his cheek. “let’s do this when you’re not injured” you whisper in his ear. now he was alone and hard in the infirmary, how nice

© MINARINNN 2024 - please do not plagiarize or upload my content on any social media platform.

[cuntstat]

I mean, no. You also have the option to not watch it. Hope that helps!

I think what’s upsetting me the most about this show is that they’re so worried about upsetting white audiences but they have no problem triggering black trauma with their endless connections to anti blackness. I mean why have the trial turned into a lynching? why make all these callbacks to slavery and racism that obviously make your black audience uncomfortable when you’re going just to avoid talking about it with actors and producers because…white people are going to get upset? As if black people aren’t upset by all the references being made….

They are saying that Armand and Lestat participated in this brutal treatment of Louis and Claudia, lynched them and I’m supposed to just keep on watching afterwards because of what? the white man’s allure?? AMC really dropped the ball on this for me. Disappointing bc this show was phenomenal but the way s2 concludes is just callous. Episode 7 is unwatchable to me bc even with the coven’s death (which is pathetically short in comparison to what Louis and Claudia went through which is more bs but whatever) it feels like there’s no justice in the end. Claudia is dead and Armand and Lestat face no consequences for their participation in her death.

(posting this as it is for a fan vent)

[writememysticfalls]

Red Door | Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: You're sleeping with Elijah, but you're someone else's girl. Tonight, he's done playing nice. He wants you all to himself.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Genre: Suggestive, Red Door!Elijah

Word count: <1k

A/N: 🎃 HAPPY HALLOWEEN VAMPS! 🎃

“Elijah.”

A red door. The ache of thirst. The sweet taste of Tatia’s blood.

“Earth to Elijah… you there?”

Elijah realised he had been daydreaming.

He was resting one hand in his pocket, staring at his reflection in the black window. Red veins shrank back from his cheeks.

“Whatcha looking at?” you whispered. You shut the study door behind you.

“Merely enjoying the view,” he lied.

His thirst had been stronger lately. Overpowering. But he could resist those…temptations. He was an Original, wasn’t he?

Elijah sat on a chair and yanked off his tie.

“Sit,” he ordered.

You straddled him, stroking his tense shoulders. “Day three of my wedding saga…” you whispered. “We’re getting matching tattoos. I’m not kidding.”

Elijah didn’t reply. His mouth was already sucking your neck.

You hissed in pain. “Easy there, cowboy,” you said. “Anyway, he’s demanding I get his name tattooed-”

“Too… much… talking,” he murmured, nipping your throat.

You were used to Elijah’s hungry kisses. Your affair happened on cold brick walls and the backseats of cars. Time was always precious.

But tonight, Elijah was moving too fast. He forced your mouth open. He bit your lip, and you tasted blood.

“Easy on the face!” you said. “I am a bride, you know.”

Elijah’s eyes were flat. “Can we not discuss your joyous nuptials for one second?

“Elijah?” you said. “What’s wrong?”

“Just kiss me,” he said, starting to unbutton his shirt.

You put your hand over his. “I said, what’s wrong?”

Elijah seized your hand. His eyes turned blood red. For a second, you saw no trace of tenderness. He looked at you like an insect he wanted to crush.

“Elijah, you’re scaring me,” you said, your voice low.

He squeezed your hand tighter. Pain shot through it.

“Y/n L/n,” he said, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing his mouth. “I asked you to kiss me. Are you incapable of following one simple instruction?”

You scrambled off him.

Elijah took one step towards you, then another, forcing you to move away. Your back hit the wall.

“You insolent little girl,” he said, giving a chilling laugh. “I humour you too much. You have a total lack of discipline.”

You frowned. “Elijah, you’re the one person in my life who doesn't try to control me. That’s why I love you.”

“Oh, please,” he said. “You don’t love me. You’re using me. Swearing your heart to another man while your limbs tremble under my touch.”

You shoved him off. “Hey. I never forced you to do anything. If you want to take the moral high ground, there’s the door.”

Elijah grabbed your throat, making you gasp out in pain. “I am an Original vampire,” he hissed. “I could snap your throat in a second. Watch your tone.”

“You’re hurting me,” you croaked.

You couldn't believe how quickly Elijah had turned from the lover you knew to this heartless monster. It must have been lurking, just beneath the surface.

You stared into Elijah’s eyes, desperate for a scrap of sympathy. There was none.

Suddenly, he let you go.

He collapsed into a chair, resting his head in his hands.

You hurried to the door. Now you thought about it, you knew Elijah had been acting up the past few weeks. You should have done something, before it got to this.

“Wait,” Elijah begged, frozen in the chair.

You rested your hand on the doorframe. “No,” you said. “You crossed a line tonight, Elijah. I don’t care if you’re jealous of my fiance. You touch me one more time, and I swear-”

Elijah’s voice was quiet. “I have been hiding the truth from you, Y/n,” he said. “I told you that I had overcome my mother’s mental torture. I told you I had… closed the red door.” He looked up at you, and his eyes were red with tears. “I lied. I can no longer control the beast within me.”

You rubbed your eyes. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Elijah. I don’t feel safe around you anymore.”

Elijah panted for breath, his mouth open. “Please,” he said. “It was a moment of weakness. It will never happen again. I give you my word.”

“You can’t make that promise. You’re not well.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “What if next time… you can’t stop?”

He rubbed his face in his hands. “I promise I will overcome my mother's torture, because, Y/n, I love-”

“No,” you said. “Don’t say it.” You turned away from him, hiding your tears. “If you say those words, I won’t want to walk away from you. And I can't forgive what you did tonight.”

And before Elijah could reply, you were gone.

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[starssaroundmyscarssblog]

𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄

pairing: 90s!liam gallagher x fem!tennis player!oc

summary: in which they probably shouldn't have ever been a thing, but liam and lottie don't really care that much

word count: 2.19k

warnings: swearing, allusions to sexual content, fade to black smut bc it makes me uncomfy sorryy ++ links to the 'fern and noel' saga

he didn't know how it ended up the way it did, but fuck was he happy about it.

when they were younger he would stand on the side of the court behind a net at the tennis centre twenty minutes away from burnage on the train for her county matches. now he sat in guest boxes and spent time not rehearsing and recording plane hopping from open to open, tournament to tournament watching the way her agile feet jumped along the clay staining the soles of her white tennis shoes red.

she acted in turn thought and for that liam was thankful. watching her launch the ball from serve to return over the net was exhausting, but he knew the training and flying to catch the occasional gig was worse and he didn't know how she did it: give a blinder of a performance at the wimbledon grand slam finals and then land in lisbon to see him perform after her hours of press campaigns.

in liam's eyes, lottie could do no wrong; she was perfect in every sense of the word back when they'd started dating in secondary school. she'd offered to help him to pass his ppe's at the pleasure of his mam, she didn't smoke or do drugs at house parties, wouldn't touch a drop of alcohol until she was of legal age and even still it was rare enough to see her do it.

training took up every week night as well as all day saturday, she worked at the bar at the boardwalk in the evening (ironically she was a dab hand at making a blinder of a cocktail) and dedicated sunday to her homework followed by perfecting her serve stance and follow through.

lottie had everything going for her, something that she made clear she wished he had too. many a time she'd be sat with liam late at night, after her shift at the boardwalk, in the middle of the grassy patch in the children's play ground. "someone'll notice you eventually, i know they will. everyone who's seen you loves you."

liam pulled a handful of grass up with his hands out of frustration, a half burnt out cigarette hung between his lips that she couldn't keep her eyes off. "dicks aren't writing about us, though. no-one south of hale or north of oldham knows who we are."

three weeks later, liam had interrupted her training session. he cut off her backhanded serve and pulled her shoulders to him to kiss her soundly as lottie's tennis instructor yelled at him to leave. liam pulled away, grinning brighter than she'd ever seen him, "we've got a record deal, lotts. creation want to work with us, they've signed us!"

a grin split her cheeks right in two. lottie flung her arms around his neck, stood right on the tips of her toes to keep a balance her instructor would have been proud of had he seen it out into action in another other given situation. he blew sharply on the brass whistle hanging on a loop around his neck, hands on his hips as he glared lottie down. she withdrew and whispered a select congratulations in his ear and pushed liam away towards the gate he'd bulldozed through, with a kiss to the pulse point on his neck

lottie was training for the french open when she was called over to the reception desk, hot and sweaty with her hair stuck to the back of her neck, to take a phone call. "hello?" she questioned down the line, rolling her ankles so she could jog back to the clay courts and hit the ground running. she nearly lost her grip on her racquet, slipping through her fingers to collide with her trainers, when liam laughed down the line. "hey lotts, you wouldn't mind paying out my bail would ya love?"

"i thought you were going to belgium," she managed to splutter out, "what did you do to get arrested on a ferry?"

"bit of a long story, babe, but can you pay it?"

she sighed and pinched her nose. "fine, yes. but seriously, liam, this is the last time i'm going to do it. if i find out this has anything to do with you snorting one before boarding you'll be out of my flat and onto your arse faster than you can blink."

on the other end of the line, standing against a pay-phone in a belgian police station, liam adjusted has stance against the pillar. he sat down on one of the wooden slated benches lining the concrete walls and tried to cover his crotch. he chewed his lip in thought, laughing fakely at something bonehead shouted, and his voice turned sombre. "it's not. promise. just had too much to drink an' all that, having a bit of fun before r'kid turns into commander and fuckin' chief."

he heard her heavy sigh and his heart sank. liam had no doubt in his mind that he would be out on the end of astrid's boot in a second if he didn't clean up his act. "i mean it, li. one whiff of cocaine being found in my house and the confederation won't let me compete. i'll phone alan and tell him i'm paying out your bail. you can call me when you get back." lottie hung up on him and handed the receiver back to honey, who was sat behind the desk and messing with the crucifix around her neck pretending like she hadn't overheard any of the conversation.

out on the courts and with little under two months until her first match of the french open, lottie bounced from service to base line, firing fuzzy balls back to over the net while the red clay stained the hem of her whites. she scratched her racquet more times than was necessary to lunge for the ball, while shooting up and zipping around the boxes as she worked harder against the machine.

sometimes during their rigorous training jamie, her coach of seven years, would start loud shouting conversations while lottie was working her arms and thighs. he argued it helped her maintain good breathing regulation and improved concentration, because viewers in the stands could be distracting at the best of times. "so what's new with the rock star, then?"

she grunted as she sent another ball flying over the net and into the wire fence surrounding the court, skidding on her toes in pursuit of the next only an arm's stretch away, "nothing. the twat's only gone and got himself arrested because he got pissed on an over night ferry. 'this is the last time, babe, i promise'", she mimicked in a high pitched voice, "like hell it is."

"ah." jamie ran a finger over the hair he was trying to grow out on top of his lip, "has the brother been in touch yet?" a cold wind shot through the air and he pulled up the zip of his tracksuit closer to his neck. lottie's back flared up in goosebumps but she kept moving, running around the court and rounding up the balls to pour them back into the funnel of the dispensing machine. "no, but i'm expecting a call soon. when one phones the other usually follows suit."

astrid pounded at the treadmill in the gym of her hotel in paris, five minutes away from the large clay court stadium she'd thrashed each of her opponents on. she'd played her way to the final three days and came away relatively unscathed, apart from a strain in her serving wrist that a quick round of physio patched back up. lindsay, an american who was in the running for the doubles championship, was using a bike next to her.

between the two of them they shared an earbud each, stemming from a cassette player settled on the window sill and balancing in the middle of their sponsored water bottles. all of a sudden liam's voice crackled through her ear, and lottie shook her head as she cranked up the incline under foot. lindsay looked at her out of the corner of her eye, cycling as if her life depended on it. "not a fan?" she inquired, bringing down the gears to loosen the tension burning in her calves.

"it's not that," she panted, pushing through the blister forming on her heel, "i just can't believe you are. they're bastards, all of them."

lindsay gradually brought her legs to a stop, taking a moment to bring down her breathing before swinging over the seat to stand up, "i thought you were going out with one of the brothers."

"oh, i am," the incline increased again, "but it doesn't mean i can't call them that." lottie brought the treadmill down until she was walking on a flat line, and took a large sip of water. she looked at her watch and checked the pedometer hooked over her shorts by her hip and started to gather her things. lindsay moved to grab a skipping rope and stretched out her arms behind her back.

"and speaking of whom, i'm off. they should be here by now, good luck for tomorrow if i don't see you."

"and you, lotts. i've heard martínez is training hard, she won't give you an easy run."

lottie zipped her fitted jacket halfway up and tucked her thumbs into the loops around her wrists. "i know. see you on the podium." she left the gym with the two plaits her hair had been tied in laying over her shoulders. in the lift, lottie brushed her eyebrows back into place and checked her watch again, sidestepping a confederation official on the way out into the lobby.

she rocked back and forth on her heels near enough away from the reception desk so as not to look like she was loitering, but close enough to be saved if there were any photographers crouched in a bush with a long-range lens.

as lottie was attempting to push back a cuticle on her nail, she heard liam first rather than seeing him. his loud voice disrupted the peace of the hotel, earning him a disapproving glance from the bellboys and an even dirtier look from noel who was sulking behind, face like thunder.

liam sauntered into the lobby with his sports bag slung lazily over his shoulder, and his eyes were drawn to the dip of lottie's tits first before her smile. she wrapped her arms around him and sighed heavily in content, taking his congratulations on her progress in the open to heart. then she drew away and went to hug noel, who visibly recoiled.

"what's up with you?"

"nowt." he grumbled, shuffling around with room keys.

liam scoffed. "like fuck it's nowt. you're just in a mard because fern broke up with ye'." noel looked like he was ready to hit his brother square on the nose, but was restraining greatly. lottie tried not to sound too sympathetic when she consoled him.

"look i don' want to fuckin' hear it from you either, lotts, no offence. now is there an offie 'round here, i'm dying for a cig and i haven't got nowt."

lottie furrowed her brow in thought and tried to ignore liam looking at her out of the corner of her eye as if he wanted to jump on her right there and then in the glossy lobby.

she crossed her arms under her chest to push up her tits more, just to wind him up. liam discreetly adjusted the way he was standing. "err, yeah. i think there's one just down the road."

"cheers."

noel had sped away before he could even ask someone to take his bag up to his room. liam grumbled out 'lazy cunt' as he made a show of hauling it over his other shoulder, herding lottie into the lift with a hand over her chest.

as soon as the mirrored doors slid shut and they felt movement, liam was attacking lottie with a kiss so searing she felt breathless within seconds.

"missed you so fuckin' much," he mumbled, moving to ravage her neck.

when the lift doors slid open again she dragged him back to her room with her hands on the back of his neck, pushing noel's bag off is shoulder and leaving it abandoned outside his room. liam's hands were roaming over her arse and he withdrew the room key from her back pocket, scanning it before shoving her inside.

"all that time away from you was fuckin' torture," he groaned as her nails dragged down his stomach and traced the low-hanging waistline of his jeans, "need you now, babe." he sighed against her chest as lottie slowly unbuckled his belt, his hand weakly climbing her torso to palm at her tits through her tight jacket.

lottie smirked, "if being this far away from me turns you into this much of a mess, liam," at this she walked him over to her bed to sink down between his legs, following the seam of his jeans up his thighs and to his exposed boxers, "i'm going to have to get competing more often."

🪩⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊🎤

[yournowheregirl]

remember when i said this was gonna be 5 parts? psych! it’s gonna be six parts of the secret-dolly-parton-fan eddie munson saga (thanks again for all the love on this fic & a special thanks to @gothbat99 and @legitcookie for listening to my rambling about this part 🥰)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 4: i will always love you

Eddie never thought himself to be an overthinker. 

In fact, during the majority of his life a lot of people assumed he didn't think at all considering the way he flunked senior year twice (He got there in the end, though). But lately - well, actually ever since Pat swore up and down Steve isn’t as straight as Eddie originally thought - Eddie’s brain has been running at a hundred miles an hour.

More specifically, Pat’s words have been echoing through his mind, haunting him, torturing him, every time he hangs out with Steve.

“Hey man, that shirt looks really great on you.” Steve says one day when Eddie shows up at Family Video wearing a red henley. It’s an old shirt he found earlier that week when Wayne forced him to clean out his closet, a little tight but it still fit so Eddie decided to keep it.

“What, this old thing?” Eddie scoffs, playing with the frayed hem of the shirt.

“Yeah, it’s… it suits you. Looks nice.” Steve smiles. 

“Thanks.” Eddie replies. His smile is tight, in the hopes that he doesn’t give away the swarm of butterflies currently residing in his stomach.

But are ya sure that boy’s straight?

“Wait, what’s happening again?” Steve asks one night during Will’s latest Hellfire campaign. 

It’s the first time in literal years that Eddie’s been playing a character instead of DM’ing and so far, he’s been very impressed with Will replacing him. Though his story lines can be a little too detailed at times, which makes it hard for Steve - who hasn’t been there during every D&D night - to keep up. 

So, Eddie explains it to him. He’s patient, keeping his voice low so the others won’t overhear and carefully watches Steve connect the dots. Watches how that cute little frown in between his eyebrows slowly fades away and is replaced with a soft smile. 

“Which brings us here, to the Rotting Grove and now we gotta wait until Dustin’s character makes a decision.” Eddie says finally, but Steve stays quiet. He’s still looking at Eddie, eyes wide with wonder, maybe he still doesn’t understand the plot just yet. “Sorry, did I go too fast? You want me to start again?”

“No, no, I got it.” Steve shakes his head, smiling. “Thanks for explaining it, though. You’re a great story teller, Eddie.” He says, bumping their shoulders together but never pulling away.

Steve stays glued to Eddie’s side throughout the rest of the night, whispering the occasional question or snarky comment in his ear, sending a chill down Eddie’s spine every time he feels Steve’s lips brush against his skin.

But are ya sure that boy’s straight?

“You really gotta be more careful.” Steve says sternly one afternoon, after Eddie has fallen face-first onto the ground during one of Max’ skateboarding lessons, leaving him with a nasty graze on his cheek. 

“I was being- fucking Christ, Steve.” Eddie hisses as Steve dabs a washcloth against Eddie’s bloodied cheek. “Will you stop that? That hurts like hell.”

Steve ignores his protests, rolling his eyes. “An infection hurts even more, so just stay still, will you?”

His hand, big and warm, finds Eddie’s hip, holding him still against the bathroom counter, as Eddie tries to think of literally anything that’ll stop his blood from going south because this not the place or time to pop a boner right now. Which somehow results in him being particularly mopey to Steve.

“I can take care of myself y’know? Been doin’ it all my life.” He grunts when Steve slowly removes the washcloth. 

“I know you can.” Steve replies softly. “But sometimes it’s nice to have someone taking care of you for a change.”

He runs his thumb over Eddie’s cheek, wiping away the last of the blood before placing his his hand on Eddie’s jaw, turning his face to see if there are any wounds to be taken care of. When Steve nods, obviously proud of his work, Eddie almost wants to go out there and trip another time, just to feel Steve’s hands on his skin again. 

“Besides, you need someone around here who actually knows first aid. God forbid something happens to that pretty face of yours.” Steve smirks, before patting Eddie’s chest and walking out of the bathroom, leaving Eddie speechless for the first time in his life.

But are ya sure that boy’s straight?

Pat’s words keep getting louder and louder in his mind to the point that it’s the only thing Eddie can think about. He overanalyzes every single one of Steve’s movements, every word that rolls off his tongue, every glance sent his way, to the point that he swears he’s going insane.

Because the more he starts thinking about it, the more Pat might actually be right and isn’t that the most terrifying thing in the wold?

-xxx-

“Dude, will you stop that?”

Eddie looks up from where he was mindlessly staring out the window and glares at Dustin, who glares right back at him. “What?”

“Your leg.” Dustin pokes him in said leg, the one that’s been bouncing uncontrollably for the past few minutes. “It’s fucking annoying.”

Dustin’s been at the Munson trailer since early afternoon, figuring out the perfect songs to  put on the mixtape he’s mailing Suzie for their anniversary. Eddie had felt honored that Dustin came to him, rather than the so-called leading expert on romance (Steve) but now his patience is wearing thin. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loves the squirt with all his heart, but Dustin’s been contemplating between two very similar songs for thirty minutes now and his indecisiveness is starting to get on Eddie’s nerves.

“Maybe if you hurried the fuck up, my leg wouldn’t be shakin’ Henderson.” Eddie retorts. “C’mon, hurry up, will ya? I got places to go, people to meet.”

Dustin snorts. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“You know, going out to the woods to deal doesn’t exactly count as Friday evening plans.” Dustin says.

“Hey!” Eddie protests. “You know I don’t do that shit anymore, not with those shady government assholes watching my every move.” He sighs, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. “But if you must know, me and Steve are having a movie night at his place and you know how huffy he gets when I’m late.”

That’s not entirely true. Sure, Eddie’s going over to the Harrington house tonight and sure they’re gonna watch a movie, but it’s also the night that Eddie decided to finally make a move on Steve. And maybe, if everything goes right, tonight will be the night that he finds the guts to Steve how he feels.

Which is why Dustin needs to get a move on because he really needs those extra few hours to contemplate his existence, have a panic attack, talk himself down from said panic attack and figure out what he’s going to wear.

“Okay, now I know you’re lying.” Dustin says, looking anything but impressed with Eddie.

“What? I ain’t lying, Henderson.” Eddie frowns. He grabs the VHS tape from the coffee table and waves it in Dustin’s face. “See, I got the movie and everything.”

“Yeah, well, you must have gotten the days mixed up.” Dustin shrugs. “Steve’s got a date tonight.”

“Yeah, right.” Eddie says, rolling his eyes at Dustin and ignoring the way his heart is starting to beat a little faster out of sheer panic. “Steve hasn’t been on a date since he broke up with Emily. And even if he has a date, I doubt he would’ve planned it at the same time as our movie night.”

“Well sorry to burst your bubble, but I know for a fact that Steve’s got a date tonight because he told me.” Dustin’s tone is bordering on condescending but Eddie doesn’t even have energy to tell him off right now because what the fuck? What does Dustin mean by that? And maybe more importantly, why did Steve leave Eddie in the dark about all this?

A heavy feeling settles down in his stomach, but he can’t let Dustin see his inner turmoil so he goes with indifference instead. “Pff, sure he did.”

“I saw him buy roses, Eddie! They were red too and that’s like, a dead giveaway for romance!” Dustin declares. “And when I talked to him about it he got this… weird, mushy look in his eye, which by the way gross, and said something about making tonight special and shit. Which again, gross, but if that doesn’t scream romantic evening to me, then I don’t know what is!”

Slowly, as Dustin’s words are starting to sink in, the heavy feeling grows stronger and stronger until Eddie feels his stomach drop.

Steve’s going on a date. 

Steve’s going on a date and just ditches Eddie without saying a word.

Steve’s going on a date with someone who isn’t Eddie.

Steve’s going on a date which means Pat was wrong.

“Get out.” Eddie says, voice on edge.

“Geez, didn’t know you’d get so upset. It’s just a cancelled movie night, I’m sure Steve-”

“Out!” Eddie exclaims, his tone way harsher than it needs to be. It obviously affects Dustin, who flinches at his words, but Eddie doesn’t care. Well, he does but he’ll apologize to Dustin later, once he starts to feel normal about all of this. 

Dustin quietly packs his stuff, mumbling something under his breath as Eddie just stands there, frozen. Eyes glued to the coffee stain on the carpet, mind reeling with thoughts of Steve ditching him for some date he didn’t even tell him about. 

He hears Dustin say a quiet goodbye but he stays there for a good few minutes before he finally snaps out of his trance and grabs the keys to the van from the kitchen counter. He doesn’t even see the dark clouds forming in the sky, he just gets in the van and drives. 

-xxx-

Rain is still pouring down when Eddie arrives at the Off-Road. Not that he really cares about the weather right now, he’s got other things on his mind. He pulls his leather jacket over his head and jogs over to the entrance, only to find the door closed and the lights off.

Great. Like his day couldn’t get any worse.

Eddie slumps down on the porch in front of the bar, not caring that he’s sitting on wet wood or that the wind is blowing the raindrops right in his face. The rain is actually pretty nice right now, hiding the tears that are slowly rolling down his cheek.

Crying over Steve motherfuckin’ Harrington. That’s a new low, even for him.

And the thing is, any other time Eddie could’ve dealt with Steve getting another date. Yeah, it’d probably hurt like a bitch and Eddie would’ve been sulking for a day or two, but he would’ve been fine. It would’ve been just another Emily situation, just another reminder that Steve would never been his.

But Steve keeping him in the dark about his date, Steve just flat-out cancelling their movie night without even telling him, after weeks of, let’s be honest, low-key flirting? That somehow hurts even more. It just feels like Steve doesn’t really care about him, like Steve’s using him like a fucking Kleenex - use once, then throw away when it’s no longer useful.

The thoughts in his head are so loud, so overwhelming, that he doesn’t even hear a pick-up truck stopping a few steps from him. Doesn’t hear the hushed voices or the wet sounds of footsteps through the mud.

“Ed? Whatcha doin’ here kid?”

Eddie looks up from where he had been staring at his feet, only to find Pat and Tish standing in front of him, huddled together underneath an umbrella. The worried looks on both their faces makes Eddie just cry even harder.

“Oh honey.” Tish says softly. “Let’s get you inside, okay?”

Pat and Tish lead him inside and up the stairs that lead to the apartment above the bar. It’s small, but cozy and feels like a home, with little trinkets and old photos scattered just about everywhere. Pat firmly plants Eddie down at the kitchen table and hands him a couple of towels as his tears slowly start to fade. He hadn’t even realized how cold he was until Pat throws a woolen blanket over his shoulders and Tish puts down a pot of hot chamomile tea.

“So…” Pat says as she sits down across from him at the kitchen table. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Eddie sniffs, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “It’s stupid.”

“We’ll be the judge of that.” Pat says sternly, though her eyes are soft. “Now tell us what happened.”

And Eddie just spills everything. How Pat’s advice has been haunting him, how he’s been overanalyzing every of Steve’s moves, how he was so sure that Steve liked him back, only to be tossed aside without a care. He tears up again a few times and it’s so embarrassing he wants to be buried alive, even with Pat and Tish just listening and telling him it’s okay.

Once he’s done, he just feels empty - no more tears to cry, no more words to say, just an empty, hollow feeling where his heart used to be. 

“Eddie, I’m so sorry, honey.” Tish sighs as she pours him another cup of tea. He’s not usually a tea drinker but he’s had two cups already - he swears Tish put some kind of crack in it, rather than sugar cubes. “For what it’s worth, he doesn’t deserve you. Not if he treats like you like, pardon my French, dogshit.”

Hearing Tish swear, while she’s generally so prim and proper, makes Eddie laugh, even through his dried-up tears. “Thanks, Tish.” He sighs, slouches down in his chair and looks up at the wooden ceiling. “But I guess this was good, in some twisted, fucked up way. Just the slap in the face I needed.”

“What’d you mean?” Pat frowns.

“It’s just… I been running after him like some lovesick puppy even though I know he’ll never feel the same.” Eddie says. “And it’s not doing me any good, now is it? Guess this is a sign that it’s time for me to move on.”

He knows he said that before, back when Steve started dating Emily, and even though it clearly didn’t work out the way he wanted to, Eddie has to make it work now. He has to say goodbye to Steve because he’s not so sure his poor heart’ll survive if he doesn’t.

And he knows exactly how he’s going to do just that.

Eddie jumps up from the table and races downstairs, ignoring Pat and Tish’s confused noises as they follow him. He fumbles with the lights for a moment but as soon as the lights are partially on, Eddie walks up to the podium, grabs the guitar off the wall and sits down on the stool that has become so familiar to him.

The bar is silent because of course it is and for a second Eddie just wants to laugh at how weird this whole situation - singing in a bar just to process his dumb feelings, even with no audience around (well, there’s an audience if you count Pat, Tish and the wind howling outside). But he has to do this, needs to do this, audience be damned. 

His hands are shaking, hesitating to play the first few chords. It’s not like he doesn’t know the song, in fact he knows it by heart and played it plenty of times, But he never actually sang the words, too scared what’ll mean if he’ll say them out loud. 

“If I, should stay… I would only be in your way. So, I’ll go but I’ll know, I’ll think of you each step of the way.” Eddie sing softly, voice already wavering because he was right for not singing this song before - it fucking hurts. “And I… will always love you.”

Eddie’s voice echoes through the empty bar, causing to sound more hollow than it already is. A shiver runs up his spine when he feels a cool breeze of wind - the wind must’ve flung the door open. Eddie doesn’t look up, closes his eyes instead and lets the music take him.

“Bittersweet memories, that’s all I’m taking with me.” He hears Pat and Tish whispering to another, can’t really see them from where they’re standing in the dark but their hushed voices sound tense. Not that Eddie’s really listening, it’s all background noise as he continues strumming his guitar. 

“Goodbye, please don’t cry. We both know…” Eddie chokes on his on voice, the words hitting a little too close to home. He takes a deep breath and tries again, refusing to shed anymore tears. “We both know that I’m not what you need.”

“Eddie?”

Someone’s calling out his name. A familiar voice. A way too familiar voice. 

Steve’s voice.

But that can’t be. Steve’s doesn’t knows he’s here. Steve’s too busy wooing his goddamn date with those goddamn roses.

It’s just in his head. It’s just his mind playing tricks on him. He just needs to finish this song and then this fake Steve will disappear and-

“And I… will always love you. I will always-” 

“Eddie, please.”

Eddie stops playing as a shadow washes over him, a figure blocking the spotlight. He squints, trying to identify whether it’s Pat or Tish who interrupted him, only to find that it’s neither of them

Because there, with floppy wet hair plastered to his face and a thoroughly soaked pink button-down and blue jeans, stands the one person Eddie had run away from in the first place.

Steve.

tag list (there are so many of you now omg ily):

@cheatghost @henderdads @unclewaynemunson @goblin-eddie @trikigirl271 @alienace @fandomcartographer @stevethehairington @blank1eboi @this-earlobe-is-naked @fruitandbubbles @courtjestermunson @steveisabicon @stereoteleversion @wrenisflying @spectrum-spectre @hotluncheddie @punkharringtxn @remislupinsthevoiceofgod @panicatthediaz @thegingervulcan @sharkruption @goodolefashionedloverboi @thelastwalkingsoul @undreamingscatworld @starrystevie @magipemuseum @mightbeasleep @corrodedcoughin @linkydinky06 @hardboiledeggs @gamerdano @limpingpenguin @blackpanzy @piningapple @teelagurl558 @theokatz @moonlightmirrorball @milf-harrington @raisedbylibrarians @eddiemunsonswife @catateme9 @stranger-poets-society

[iamgonnagetyouback]

HAHA DIDNT EXPECT TO SEE ME HERE DID YOU?! SURPRISE!!! 🖤

I really don't have anything to ask but I just wanted to thank you for existing and for being kind and tolerating my weirdness (and feeding into it) and I hope u have a great Sunday 🖤

INKY!?!

*gasps dramatically, clutches pearls*

Is it YOU?! Could it BE?! *collapses onto the fainting couch I definitely have*

What a shock, a twist, a plot THICKENING moment in this already terrifying saga we share! Thanking me—me, of all people!—for my existence?! *dabs nonexistent tear* I can hardly take it!

But you know what, my dearest companion? *looks at the sky with my head high (i am really looking at the roof of my room)*

It is I who should be thanking YOU for blessing this little corner of existence with your glorious weirdness! The world needs more of that.

Now go forth, conquer Sunday, and stay hydrated—or else!

[candidsoup]

Watched episode 2 of Blood of Youth. Am still just as confused as I was in episode 1. Every minute that goes by, they introduce a new character or a new martial arts technique. I feel like i started watching a show that began smack dab in the middle of a Dragon Ball Z saga with everyone fighting and making exclamations about each others’ power levels.

The innkeeper and the not-monk are really pretty though. Especially the innkeeper… that blue fur!!!!!

[tgmsunmontue]

So, I guess I'm heading back into my old hey-days of working in a restaurant and doing a far more in-depth Chef!Bradley and Aviator!Jake fic...

(Once again taking one of @the-ace-with-spades ideas and taking off with it - they're also to 'blame' for "It's not who you know" and the whole "Saga of Solitude" thing, as well as "You need to learn how to fall" I think. Anyway Charlie, thanks for having amazing ideas and letting other people use them. 🌻🌻🌻)

"Season to taste" is likely to be around 7 chapters, with a prologue set in 2001- 2008. Little snippet from ~2018 below if you're so inclined.

(Kind of need to have read the Chef!Bradley post for this to make sense).

... ... ...

                “Don’t auto-condiment! Try it first!”

                “But I like ketchup…”

                “You might like the taste of this better.”

                Jake diligently tries some, chewing it while maintaining eye contact with Bradley who is watching him with an expectant raised eyebrow, licking his lips like he wants to taste Jake all over again. Jake is more than onboard with letting him.

                “It’s okay. Could use a little sauce…” Jake states, reaching for the sauce bottle and putting some on the plate. In deference to the flavors he does put it to the side, because it does taste good, but… he dabs the next forkful into the sauce and then puts it in his mouth. “Yeah. Much better.”

                “Heathen. Absolute heathen,” Bradley says, but he looks endeared more than anything else so Jake will count it as a win.

[bright-and-burning]

On anon so I can feel less. Exposed. But dear dry ass bitch anon, I (vag haver) can get DRIPPY to the wet-thighs level but I am not to eve’s level of power here (Eve I respect you so much)

I’m tapping out around 5 but I’m. Changing my sheets after 5.

welcome to the venue anon 😭 the polls have been opened cast ur votes folks etc etc. also sorry now im imagining like ask abby but it’s dear dry ass bitch LOL. anyways. thank u for the input!!

[sitraachranovel]

Eldha the Repentant

The Bodach ducked as she entered the covered wagon. At nearly seven feet tall, she towered over the terrier-like Cinocephali. With her more sighthound-like appearance, it was plain she was not originally of them, but the robes she wore reassured any who might question her faith. Blunted claws reached into the awaiting goblet, the pure water sizzling on her finger tips and upon her shoulders and behind her ears as she dabbed it in the gesture of Azrael, the Angel of Death, and their object of worship. The water tingled on her tongue when she licked the last few drops from her fingers, and bowed reverently to the effigy of the winged figure in the back. Settling down before it, she lit the prepared incense and leaned forward to pick up the small mallet and tap the bell suspended beneath the shrine, letting others outside the wagon know that she was about to engage in her daily meditation.

Sitting cross-legged, hands folded in prayer, her ear twitched towards the entryway behind her.

"You may enter," she said, without opening her eyes. Her voice was gentle, deep and warm, if a bit stoic. Her nose had told her who it was that had approached long before she had arrived at the flap of the wagon. "I do not mind."

Saga hesitated, but eventually slipped inside, folding the tarps behind her as neatly as she could. The small flames of the many lamps and covered candles kept the interior warm, the haze from the incense was sweet and spicy like a hot, floral, tea. The windows had been covered by sheets and the walls were draped in fetishes made of dried flowers and the preserved bodies of small birds, the copper bells weighing them down tinkled softly like windchimes when she brushed passed. The human fidgeted for a bit, preparing to turn and retreat back outside, when the Bodach spoke once more.

"You may sit, if you like. You must have many questions. It would not trouble me to provide answers."

Saga came to settle down on the quilted pad next to her, shifting so that she was mimicking her position with her legs folded beneath her. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, at length, voice a whisper as if speaking much louder might break the sanctity of the space around her. "If... it's alright to ask."

"Meditating," the dog-headed woman replied. "Do you know what it is to meditate?"

Saga shook her head, before realizing Eldha hadn't opened her eyes once since she stepped into the wagon. "No. What... what exactly is it?"

"A ritual of a kind. One to reassert tranquility to a troubled mind and burdened body. And a communion with Azrael, our Lord Angel. It is a reflection of the peaceful Death we all hope for in this world. A way to manifest it when the time comes. Or so I have been told."

Saga, once again, fidgeted, fumbling with the cuff of her pants. "You're so different from the others," she said, at length, unable to think of anything more constructive to say.

Eldha opened her eyes. "Am I?"

Saga's jaw clenched and was fearful she had stumbled upon the wrong question. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to sound disrespectful."

"Not at all," reassured Eldha, her long snout dipping in her direction as she turned her head to speak. "It is true. I am not originally of the Cinocephali. My home was with a Barghest clan who travelled the southern Wastes of the First Circle."

"I'm sorry but I'm not sure what the difference might be between a 'Barghest' and a 'See-note-cephally'? Is that what you said?"

Eldha's hands fell to her lap. "There are three main types of Bodach. The Barghest, the Cinocephli, and the Sharhurster. The Barghest are my people. We are tall and swift and as devoted to our faith as any other Bodach, even if it is quite different from the Sharhuster and the Cinocephali. Our deity is more of a... spirit than an actual manifestation of Ein Sof. Our leaders are called 'Omens', rather than 'Bishops'. At one time, I was intended to be an Omen."

Saga's eyebrows rose and she hesitated to ask for her to continue, sensing that it might be a sensitive topic for her. But eventually, the Bodach continued, taking her time as always.

"Omens are the only members of the pack that can understand the mind of Fatuu, our deity. He shares his intent and dreams with us, to guide us through the Wastes to our next feast. But, one day, Fatuu spoke to me. He showed me a vision of the current Omen defying his guidance by leading us through a dangerous portion of the Wastes, a portion overrun with Edenblight. Greater Demons hold no immunity against it. We are as affected by it as humans, even if some may tell you otherwise. And, Bodachs may be harbingers of Death, but we do not inflict it upon others, much less each other. Death is to be earned. It is a reward for a life well-lived, and not to be given so freely. I tried to stop him, but it was to no avail. In the violence, I misstepped and the two of us went tumbling over a ridge. His body broke my fall, but my fall had broken him..."

"Oh... I'm so sorry."

"As murder is considered the gravest of sins, I was marked." She pointed to the scar criss-crossing her forehead. "And abandoned. I travelled for days, trailing behind them, hoping for scraps, for some kindness from those whom I once loved and who loved me. Even my daughter was kept from me... Eventually, I could do nothing else but surrender. My fight was over, but it wasn't all for nothing... I tried to take solace in the understanding that they only did what they thought was right. And that I had won my pack's, and my daughter's, survival so that they may one day earn their proper Death as well. And so I laid down in the dirt, attempting to make peace with myself while I waited for the Auspice Holem to take me into her arms..." She frowned.

"And then the Cinocephali found you?"

"When I opened my eyes and saw them standing over me, I was taken aback by the realization of something that defied everything that had ever been instilled in me since I was a child." She frowned, her eyes fixed on the shrine. "I was... afraid."

"Afraid?"

Eldha nodded. "Of dying. I was so overcome with relief when it was not the arms of Holem who had come to hold me, but those of Mattheus and the others. So overcome that I felt ashamed that it was not yet my time after all. Nonetheless, I was grateful and as repayment, I dedicated my life to learning their ways, becoming an honorary Cinocephalus."

Saga took a moment to absorb this, unable to articulate anything further, before something finally came to mind."Does Fatuu ever speak to you any more?"

Eldha's blue eyes returned to the effigy of the winged, vaguely human, figure mounted upon its bed of flowers. "Yes. In a way. I have not had a vision in some time, but I find Azrael's words guidance enough." She reached for a book bound in thick leather to pass it to Saga. Odd runes were inscribed on the cover in ornate script. "I have found that the two are much the same."

Saga took the heavy book into her lap and unlatched it to slowly flip through and observe the small, delicately written, lettering. The illustrations were rare, though highly detailed and vivid with bright, mismatched colors that probably made more sense to the eyes of the canine Bodach than to a human. Azrael was depicted as having many forms; a dog-headed angel with the body of a man, a great and terrible figure with many, black, wings and a skeletal face, a scythe gripped in one clawed hand, and something like a star with several gold rings encircling it, wreathed, once again, in the ever-present, feathered, wings. Studying the pages left Saga with more questions than she had opportunity to ask at that moment. Angels were not gods, were they? And Demons could hardly look upon them without going blind...

With so many mysteries now unfolding in her mind, Saga decided to remain focused on learning more about Eldha herself. "So, do you like it with the Cinocephali? Do you ever miss your family?"

"Of course, but Matteus and the others treat me well. As though I am no different from themselves..." The corners of her mouth drew back in a subtle smile. "Even if I am summoned more often than not to reach for things on the highest shelf. It's the least I can do to repay their kindness."

Saga smiled back, and returned the book. "I'm afraid I can't read this," she said. "But thank you for showing it to me."

"It stands to reason that you cannot yet read, my child," replied Eldha, accepting the tome back into her hands. "Would you like to learn?"

The human looked up at her and blinked, dark eyes wide. "Would you teach me?" she asked, with some incredulity, as if the Bodach were offering a precious gift she did not feel entitled to.

Eldha nodded. "It is a long way to Shaa Edan, and such knowledge will surely prove invaluable once you arrive there." Her smile broadened a little more. "As well, it will do to pass the time."

[sweetcircuits]

HAPPY 3 YEAR ANNIVERSARY, MBK AU!!!

My Brother's Keeper turned 3 this past week on September 17th! It still absolutely blows my mind that my little OC story got so big and complex. This past year I didn't get to update as often as I wanted, mostly because of my new fic Brave Blossom which took up a huge chunk of my brain the first half of the year XD But lots of exciting things still happened for Amber! This past year MBK made its way through season 2 and right now we're smack dab in the middle of the I, Chiro saga (which is a huge milestone!) Amber has had a lot of character growth, and I'm so proud of her.

Speaking of milestones! MBK has gotten almost 5500 hits on Ao3 which is absolutely insane to me. Thank you everyone, all my readers, commenters, kudos-ers, and especially people who drew fanart! Seeing fanart of my girl Amber makes my heart so happy. AND A HUGE THANK YOU especially to my beta readers who are the absolute best people on the planet for all your encouragement and feedback, it truly means the world to me. We've got a long way to go but I know we can do it! 😊💙

To celebrate MBK's 3rd anniversary, I'm opening my askbox for questions for MBK Amber and Chiro, as well as questions for me about the writing or story for MBK! I will reblog a few questionnaires with ideas, with the tag ask mbk sibs or you can send in questions of your own!

Thanks again to this fandom for being so amazing! Your support means so much, and I'm looking forward to finishing out the I, Chiro saga and moving on to season 3 in the next year!

[tisiphonewolfe]

The Tectomancy Saga: Her New Captain

Hey folks! I've been playing about with writing some short pieces in the Tectomancy Saga universe, so I'm going to start sharing them! This time I decided to write a chapter that's from Releine's perspective in the actual book from Almyra's perspective instead.

Taglist (DM to be added or removed): @indy-gray @sam-glade

Click through the read more for some gay shit:

Princess Almyra Tectus woke up uncharacteristically early. This was one of the rare occasions in her life when she’d asked her father to send an automaton with a wake-up call. Today was going to be a terribly exciting day.

The red-eyed creature, with dangling, feathered arms and a sloping helmet that wrapped its face, chirped at her bedside until she clambered out from her nest of pillows and blankets to yawn in its face and slap it firmly on the chest. “I’m up. I’m awake.”

It stomped dutifully away while she set about her business, slumping down in front of her dresser and trying not to doze off again. By her estimation, her new guard captain would be having breakfast with father around now - it was a little trick of his, to get them comfortable. Most arrived here expecting every waking moment to be formal and stately, but that was not quite achievable in a house populated by two royals, five servants, and a host of automatons. Father was probably greeting her at breakfast in his dressing gown and pyjamas. Almyra giggled through another yawn thinking about the look she must have on her face.

It was a lovely face. The scar was what caught her eye at first, when father sent her to inspect her potential new guards the previous day. It ran from the bridge of her arched nose, over tan, freckled cheeks, to the edge of a razor-sharp jaw. Then it was her eyes - icy-cold and narrow, set below a dark brow. Then her tall, artfully-muscled frame, and her firm-

Almyra blushed in the mirror. She made herself pick up the hairbrush. Her hair could be messy perhaps, but she couldn’t have tangles, that wouldn’t do - yet. Then she would dab away some of her blemishes with a little makeup - but not all of them. There was allure in imperfection. She thumbed the dent that mother had moulded into the bridge of her nose and smiled. This morning was a first impression, a real first impression. Given they would never be more than five feet apart outside the palace, Releine would see her, warts and all, soon enough.

She brushed out her waves of red, then set to work messing them up again. “Releine, Re-leine…” It was an unbalanced, awkward name. Her previous guard had been Beatrice - an easy name to endear. Betty, Bea. This one… “I shall try calling her Leine,” Almyra mused. “We’ll see if that sticks.”

Almyra grabbed a brush. Beatrice had disappeared two weeks prior. The poor dear had never broken father’s golden rule - she had never spoken a single word to Almyra. In fact, she had barely even gestured. Her slip-up was when she caught Almyra crying in the rose garden, and had reached out for a hand to comfort her. Almyra had grabbed it and stolen an embrace - one that lasted too long. Father, unfortunately, had returned to his office earlier than Almyra had anticipated and seen the whole thing. Beatrice was gone by the next morning, despite Almyra’s protests, and father had Anslo arrange a new selection as soon as possible. “I suppose I overdid that one,” Almyra muttered. “A change of setting next time, I think.”

This Releine girl might come around a little easier. She hadn’t responded to anything Almyra said or did in the solemn military ranks at the selection. However, as soon as father was distracted, she had signalled with a rapid double-blink. Clever, masculine, willing to take risks and bend rules, and smoking hot. Exactly Almyra’s type of girl.

That was probably enough. Almyra batted powder from the brush and tucked it away lest Captain Sholt were the particularly observant type. She took one last glance in the mirror and waddled, satisfied, back to bed.

Everything was ready. She was wearing her most clingy nightgown, and her favourite titillating romance novels were on display in the sitting room downstairs. Anything with two girls on the cover, really. She took one last run at her hair, left the brush on the bedside table, and wriggled back into her cocoon. She was already feeling the soft, woolly curtains of sleep closing over her again. How long will the Captain take to get here? Is Anslo going to give her the tour first? A nap surely couldn’t hurt.

❖

Almyra jerked awake again to a thunderous knocking that made her gasp and flail. How long had she been asleep?! A glance at her bedside clock revealed that it was past noon already. Damn! Her hair would be messed up again.

The knock came once more. She called out in a sleepy slur; “Who is it?”

It ought to be Releine, and perhaps this would catch her out - maybe this could be fun right from the get-go.

Another knock.

Almyra sighed, and said; “Oh, you. Come in.”

She closed her eyes and listened to the ponderous tramp of heavy boots as they approached her chamber. Despite everything, she was still so tired. When the footsteps stopped at the arched entrance of her bedroom, she peeked out and met Releine Sholt’s narrow, icy eyes. Those eyes widened considerably when Almyra wormed her way out of the blankets. A dash of pink appeared in the Captain’s freckled cheeks - the nightgown was especially low-cut. Releine turned her head and stepped back into the entryway.

Oh, a true gentleman? That wasn’t what Almyra had been expecting at all. Most of the mercenary guild heroes and stuffy military types who ended up padding around after her for a few months bore no resemblance to the love interests of her novels. They weren’t shy. They weren’t lecherous either, typically, they were just there to do a job - it was half the fun of cajoling them. Almyra caught a gooey sensation somewhere in her chest and said, through a yawn; “Don’t be daft. Given the rules, you’re bound to see me in more embarrassing states than this sooner or later. Better get used to it.” She stretched. “That said, robe please.”  She gestured to where it hung by the door.

Releine fetched it with barely a pause. That was also new. Father specifically told guards that they were not servants and most of them took that to heart. Almyra wished she hadn’t asked as she shrugged the robe over her shoulders and sniffed awkwardly. “So what ought I call you? I can’t go around calling you ‘Captain’, can I?” She picked up

Releine looked at the ceiling, saying nothing, and then shrugged. Powerful shoulders on a lanky frame, rippling below a blue military tunic. Aside from that she wore well-fitted cloth trousers, the heavy boots, and a sabre at her side. Rings glinted in her ears, made visible by the shaved sides of her head. She made straight-laced military dress look roguish.

“Hmph, didn’t think that one would catch you. I took the liberty of finding out your name yesterday anyway. Releine, Re-leine . . . “ She feigned her first attempt at figuring out a pet name. “It’s not an easy one. May I call you Leine?”

Leine was not good at hiding her facial expressions. She looked at Almyra as though she’d just kicked her cat, but she nodded curtly.

Almyra suppressed a giggle. The little storm-cloud gathering over her new guard’s head, now that was fun. Irritation, a sorry attempt at good manners, and completely unsubtle blushes. “Come then, Leine. Let’s go down to the kitchen for some coffee. Then you and I must talk.” There was warmth in her own cheeks as she slid on her slippers and skipped towards the door. Releine took her queue perfectly and followed behind her at a perfectly even distance. “Well, not talk but - you know what I mean.”

Not talk yet. Almyra would find a way.

[likeadevils]

What about the very first night? Logically timeline wise it makes sense its about jake but there are way too many parallels with 1989. No previous Jake songs mentioned Polaroids and 'children running' seems such a silly way to describe Jake Taylor when their age difference was a huge issue between them. But Taylor didn't know harry enough back then.

taylor definitely knew harry enough-- she was in a flirtationship with him for about a month in april 2012, which, depending on who you believe had varying levels of commitment promised but at the very least she seemed to be pretty invested in, and then was seriously dating him from at least early oct onwards. taylor sometimes over-exaggerates the seriousness of the relationship for the sake of the song (for example, i don't think she was ever exclusive with taylor lautner, seeing as she wrote enchanted for adam young and ours for john mayer smack dab in the middle of the taylor squared saga, but if you listen to back to december without any context you'd think they were pretty serious) but the broad strokes, that i've been quietly mourning what could have been even though everyone thinks i'm having a great time, definitely line up with harry circa 2012.

whether or not the song is actually about him, to me, depends on if we'll see more songs from Espionage on the 1989 vault tracks-- she implied that she worked with them a fair amount but nothing ever made an album, and tvfn and their style in general definitely lines up with the kinds of things she was writing late 2012/early 2013, so i wouldn't be surprised

vault tracks also don't have to line up with the album release perfectly-- mr perfectly fine was written in 2009, for example, and most of the fearless vault was written before debut came out, so its very possible that tvfn was written in late 2012, when she was seriously dating harry, and taylor threw it on the red vault because she associates it more with red than with 1989

[notasapleasure]

unluckily for you you are mutuals with the guy who sees an ask meme and sends you

🌀Post the fic summary for a fic you haven't written/published yet. It can be hypothetical or something you really plan on releasing...

❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP. 🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

🌈 Share something soft/fluffy from your WIP.

💧Share something romantic/hot from your WIP, or just something sweet if it's gen.

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

🌪️Sum up a WIP with a few fic tropes/Ao3 tags.

Absolute clown-face o'clock here, as I forgot this meme was in the queue - but thanks for the ALL THE ASKS ask!! I'm gonna do the saga au because that's the only place my head is these days, though when I finish part 1 I PROMISE I will get to work on chapter 4 of Counting on You.

🌀 Brassian saga au, aka 'The Saga of The Coal-Biter and The Skraeling'. A prequel AU set in late tenth century Iceland. Brasso is the illegitimate son of an old viking and a slave woman who grows up with a heap of [legitimate] sisters, paternal expectations he has no interest in meeting, social expectations he has no interest in meeting, and a growth spurt that only adds to those expectations and the problems they cause. When the neighbours - adventurous merchants Maarva and Clem - return from the colony in Greenland in semi-disgrace with a 'skraeling' child they 'adopted', Brasso makes friends with the new boy, and Cassian identifies him as a fellow outsider.

As a prequel it focuses on Brasso's own coming-of-age travailles, but within this he learns that the feuds of the previous generation can't be ignored, and that once a feud starts there's no one who's safe. When the violence touches Cassian's family too, Brasso's going to have to make a decision about the strange prophecy the Christian witch Máiri Caleen gave him and figure out a way to reconcile himself to being a hero.

❄️ 🌤️ "You could have challenged him to a duel for that," Cassian stood back and eyed me.

"And had my arse handed to me - at the end of a sword, rather than unarmed. Do you want me to get run through, Cassian?"

He folded his arms and shrugged tightly. "I think you'd win."

"I'm grateful for your confidence," I said testily. I'd realised that he was annoyed with me personally about something, but I hadn't the faintest idea what it could be, and it didn't negate his pleasure in my victory. Still, it was an undercurrent in our conversation, in the reproachful shadow behind his expression, and he was disinclined to tell me what it was, so I didn't ask.

"Do you think this is who you have to be?" he finally blurted, stepping forwards again so he didn't need to raise his voice.

Mystified, I dabbed at my nose and raised my brows. "A winner?"

He had this thing where you could see his teeth working at the inside of his lower lip, and he did it whenever he encountered something challenging - regardless of whether it was a challenge to relish or one that made him seethe. In the case of the latter it preceded a smile like a sharp blade, a baring of his teeth really, and a darkening of his eyes. "Fuck you. The one who rolls over and takes it," he said it so quietly I had to lean in to hear him, and I heard the genuine vitriol in his words. Just like so many others I'd heard speak like that on this island.

"That's not what that was, Cassian," I told him coldly. I continued to bend forward so I could keep his eyes on me, and with just as much repressed anger and certainty as he'd spoken with, I added "Here, where everyone expected me to respond like you said, taking that kind of shit means acting the same way they would. I don't do that. I'm not like them, and they should know it by now. You should know it."

As always when I stood up to him, his chin jutted in surprise and his eyes slipped away from mine.

"You sound like Clem," he said eventually, through a sulking pout.

🌧️ Ok, I´ll let you in on an angsty secret in this viking story: there´s a bodycount :)) so far we've had three murders, one execution, one died-of-sheer-rage, a bunch of haunted-to-deaths, two paranormal killings and there's at least three more murders to come!

🌈 in honour of the rainbow the softness I will let you in on is that Brasso gets a number of boyfriends (even if he's not very good at keeping them).

💧None of the boyfriends are Cassian (yet), but I'm aiming to give them something that's genuinely weirder and longer-lasting and turns into proper 'no one else in the whole known world gets me like you do'. Which I think is hot. But also there is fucking, don't worry.

🌩️oh man...I'm so bad at guessing at what's funny, even when I know there are things I've tried to make funny. There's quite a lot of Vetch, which is kind of cracky I guess? And Cavo is an ale-seller who is always drunk on his own wares. Actually what am I saying, the whole concept of this is cracky as all fuck!!

☔I would so love to maintain my enthusiasm for this AU setting to make it through the two other stories I want to add, one which starts more at the beginning of Andor S1 and ends up with mercenary shenanigans and shapeshifting in Norway, and the second which explains why Brasso is telling his story from a Byzantine dungeon and how he helped Cassian not be in the same dungeon.

Basically it would follow a few trends from medieval saga genres, from the honour/feud-based 'family saga' setting in Iceland, to the legendary/heroic sagas full of wrathful kings, long-distance skiing, bear-fights and large scale battles, to the 'romantic/chivalric' saga setting with mercenary activity in Russia and Byzantium, magic and strange beasts, feats and quests.

🌪️AU - medieval, AU - viking, friends to lovers, slowburn, like REALLY slow burn, idiots in love, pining, intricate rituals, friends who slay together stay together, coming-of-age, canon prequel AU, misunderstandings, dreams and prophecies, (eventually) best friends with benefits.

Also here is the link to the four hour VIBES playlist again, because I am so proud of it :')

For other rancid and self-obsessed vibes check my tags 'saga au' and 'brassian saga au'. xoxox

[rebdebdav]

Chapter 1. Farewell to Old Friends

[Thought I'd share the first chapter of The Sallow Saga Vol. 1 - In the Shadows of a Legacy] - gain some insights on here. Points to keep in mind: This is a work of fan-fiction that is of my own making. It can be found on Wattpad or AO3 (links below):

Brief overview: set 5 years on from the events of HL, all our favourite characters are in their 20s and have long since left Hogwarts. Ominis became Anne's full time carer. M/C (named Cassy Weaver) and Natty are now aurors. This story is based on the concept of Sebastian having been sent to Azkaban at the end of HL. Feel free to add your thoughts at the end.

It was a small group who attended Ann Sallow's funeral. Her home hamlet, Feldcroft, had never been particularly large, however its populous had moved further afield after the events surrounding her brother's arrest. It appeared that after the loss of Solomon Sallow, the ex-auror, many thought the family to be cursed in more ways than one and after five years, it was only Ann who resided in the hamlet. Her closest friend, Ominis, insisted on doing all he could to watch over his adopted sister; so much so he moved in and became a permanent guest. Together, they lived a quiet and peaceful life until Ann took a turn for the worst and no number of healers could help. Ominis took on the role of carer to ensure her final days were comfortable, then fought tooth and nail to insist that she be buried alongside her parents in the family tomb near Milton Keynes. Not one of her old neighbours who she had supported during the rise of Ranrok's rebellion, agreed to attend.

The weather had been overcast as they'd entered the church, as Ominis took to the podium, the clouds gathered outside ready to wash away mushc of December's residual snow. Ominis looked out over the pitiful group who had attended. Ann deserved so much more than this, for all the pure kindness she had offered him throughout her short life, Ominis was frustrated he could not have celebrated her life with more of her old friends. Steadying both his nerves and sorrow, Ominis cleared his throat to address the gathered. "As some of you here will know, Ann was a dear, dear friend of mine. We were both sorted into Slytherin house, alongside..." he hesitated, swallowing a bitter lump in his throat; "alongside her twin brother, Sebastian. All three of us together, were a trio unlike any other. We were the rebels without cause." Some delicate murmurs of agreement met these words, from a few of the mourners. Ominis gleaned confidence somewhat from knowing Professor Weasley sat close to the back of the room. While he couldn't see her, she had assured him that she would be sat toward the rear of the hall, ready to walk by his side to the tomb. Matilda Weasley had her head bowed low, dabbing regularly at her eyes. Her dark, maroon witches hat obscured much of her face, but her flaming red hair poking out from under the rim relayed it was her. "Toward Ranrok's rise, Ann interrupted a gathering of goblins and dark wizards and was cursed, by Rookwood. To this day, we still do not know what that curse was, but it was enough to condemn Ann. Just one innocent child. So cruel. Since that day, Ann remained in Feldcroft, being cared for by her uncle Solomon, until his untimely death; receiving glimmers of hope from her brother, Sebastian; until his..." another pause. Ominis sighed, how much tragedy could one family experience in so short a space of time? "Until his arrest. From that day on, Ann and I remained closely tied. We lived together and very soon I discovered that while I had insisted on ensuring her the best comfort and care; she was providing so much more for me. Ann was a powerful, fierce, and devoted friend. I will never experience such a friendship as hers, in this lifetime at least..."

So saying, Ominis nodded to the priest, who began the sermon of final rights. Everyone bowed their head as the soprano who Ominis had hired, sang out Ann's favourite poem from Dulcibella Philbert's collection. Her voice filled the cold church hall with warmth. For all of a moment, Ominis felt his heart swell as he listened to the lyrics:

You are as dear to me as an Augurey, Whose voice foretells the coming rain. You are as loved by me as a Crup could be - Whose loyalty is true and plain. You have cast a spell over my heart, I want it not undone; You have charmed me from the very start. You have always been the one.

As Ann's coffin was lifted by the ushers and carried out of the church to the Sallow's family tomb, the assembled group slowly rose to their feet, and each bowed their head as the coffin was carried by. One by one, each member shuffled behind the ushers, creating a serpentine like path toward Ann's final resting place. Finally, after what seemed like an immeasurable amount of time for Ominis, the tomb's doors closed on his dear friend.

The rain that the clouds had been threatening to release for some time, began to fall. With each drop of rainfall, it felt like each member of the congregation approached him to rest a hand on his shoulder, complimenting his arranged send off for Ann, before making their polite excuses to leave. Eventually, only Ominis and Professor Matilda Weasley remained, both with hands clasped in front of them, both heads bowed. After a short while, Professor Weasley raised her head, delicately dabbed her eyes with a pristine, lace handkerchief and turned to face this phenomenal young man.

Ominis, sensing Professor Weasley's gaze, turned to face her in turn. Many found his foggy, blind eyes haunting and would flinch or bow their heads apologetically to avoid staring. Matilda however, simply smiled. What most perceived to be cold and unclear, were two of the brightest stars she'd ever seen in her Transfiguration classes. "That was a most beautiful send-off Ominis. Ann would have been proud." Matilda said softly, her voice croaky with restrained emotion. Smiling weakly, Ominis nodded. "Thank you, professor. I do appreciate your taking the time to attend. I know with it being January, you are amid the Winter academic year, and must be so very busy right now. I only wish more could have made it. I know how loved Ann was by many of her class friends." Professor Weasley delicately shrugged; "even in the world of magic, where it is so prevalent, death is very much a taboo topic. Many who would have wanted to pay their respects would also like to remember Ann as she was, a beautiful soul, racing on her broom with her brother. Beating you and many of her peers at gobstones; and filling the room with her wonderous laughter." "But they will never see or hear that ever again professor!" Ominis sniffed, "they should have been here! Of all people, I would have thought Cassy..." At her name, Ominis shivered.

Cassy Weaver, the mysterious fifth year starter. Granted, Ominis had valued her friendship at Hogwarts after Sebastian had been arrested and sent to Azkaban prison. But it had been on her insistence that he, Ominis, highlight his closest friend's crimes to the still current headmaster, Professor Black. To this day, Ominis still wondered if he had done the right thing by his closest friend, in listening to Cassy.

Professor Weasley cleared her throat, "I brought news from Cassy with me today, as we both thought you would be of this mindset. Please believe me Ominis, she wished to be here today b..." "Then why wasn't she?!" Ominis interrupted angrily. Quickly recognising his temper was getting the better of him, he steadied his breathing. His wand, always hovering sentient close by his side settled down from sputtering angry sparks from its tip in response to his emotions and emitted a steady warm glow. "My sincere apologies professor. I confess, I have been under a lot of stress recently. Press members from the Daily Prophet have been hounding me for days leading up to Ann's funeral. I cannot comprehend why they would be so relentless, they cared very little when she was cursed in the first place!" Professor Weasley rested a friendly hand on Ominis's shoulder, his mourning robes was soaked through; "how much of the Daily Prophet have you had the chance to divulge in dear?" Ominis frowned, "forgive me again Professor. With Ann's health deteriorating quicker than either one of us anticipated, the affairs of the wider wizarding world meant very little to our lives in Feldcroft. Ann even stopped responding to her post a fortnight before her passing, and refused to let me open anything that came through the door. Her final days were particularly hard, as you can imagine..." The rain began to settle down, with a few rolls of thunder in the distance indicating the worst of the storm had now moved on. Clearing her throat delicately, Professor Weasley carefully picked her words. "Then my dear, I fear I have some news that might come as somewhat of a shock for you. Perhaps it best we head back inside, I believe this news is best suited to private environments than open air conversation."

Nodding cautiously, Ominis proffered his arm to Professor Weasley who, understanding the gesture, placed Her's on his. Within less than a single breath, they had both apparated out of sight of the tomb, arriving in a flash inside the Sallow's small house in Feldcroft. Quietly gesturing for Professor Weasley to seat herself at the rickety dining table, Ominis waved his wand and summoned two mugs from the cupboard. The teapot, resting on the side, filled itself with water, which it boiled independently, before carefully floating over to fill up each mug with a warm cup of tea. This was accompanied by a small pot of honey, which, after bobbing over to the table; proceeded to spoon a teaspoon of its content into each mug. The jar than hurried back to the kitchen to usher the bottle of milk in to providing its services. Professor Weasley admired the procession of it all. She had always been particularly fond of Ominis. He had been such a quietly passionate student, who was meticulous in his appearance and how he addressed and behaved around others.

At school, his dark blonde hair had always been neatly combed into position, not out of vanity, but pure pride. Considering his upbringing, Ominis rarely spoke ill of anyone he crossed and preferred his peers to review him of his own personal presentation and merits, rather than his family's notorious magical status and wealth. Matilda recalled how he had been so introverted in his first year until his friendship with the Sallow twins brought him out of his shell and introduced a gentle yet dark sense of mischievousness to the Hogwarts faculty.

Holding her mug and breathing in the contents, she allowed Ominis time to hang up his sodden cloak, smooth back his hair; straighten his shirt and tie; before sitting down opposite his old favourite professor. "Very well Professor," he said, "what news could you not tell me before?" Taking a sip of the warm, sweet tea to freshen herself up from the coldness outside, Professor Weasley focused her gaze on the young man in front of her. "Ominis, it has been five years since Sebastian's arrest for the murder of his uncle Solomon. During his time in Azkaban, Sebastian has shown nothing but pure remorse for his part played in all that occurred during his final days at Hogwarts. His grief is so that, I have been informed, that the Dementors are unable to feed from him. It would appear the positive memories he held so dear have been swarmed with pure grief and regret. So much so, Minister Spavin has not had the heart to inform Mr Sallow of his twin sister's passing, to save him from spiralling beyond return."

Ominis choked on his tea, spilling much of its contents down his front. "You mean to say Professor, that Sebastian is unaware of Ann's passing?!" he choked.

Matilda bowed her head sorrowfully, "indeed, I do Ominis. Furthermore, Minister Spavin has issued a decree that in the exceptional circumstances of Mr Sallow's case, that he is to be released in the next month. If that weren't enough, he has assigned his auror team to remain vigilant around him, we have no idea how Sebastian will react to normal life outside of the horrendous confines of Azkaban." She paused. Ominis was staring at her. He was pale as a sheet and wide eyed at the revelations just presented to him. His cup had been halfway to his lips when she'd relayed the news of Sebastian's release and he had simply frozen.

Some time passed. The grandfather clock situated behind the curtained off bedroom, tolled the hour of six. The sound of the tuneful chime brought Ominis out of his trance and he lowered his mug to the table. He swallowed several times before weakly venturing, "he will be sent here, I presume?" Matilda nodded, "yes, he is to be returned to his old homestead. The people of Feldcroft were informed that a new movement was being instated to introduce a herd of endangered Graphorns nearby, in the hopes that it would encourage some of the residents to relocate. Only Ann, was informed of the truth. She received a visit from Minister Spavin himself, 2 weeks ago while you were out with Cassy in Hogsmeade. According to a trusted source, Ann was quite insistent that he be returned to his home in Feldcroft. As much as she still harboured some reservations, we believe that she deeply missed her brother and it was, as she declared 'a parting gift' that he be home in time to see her, before she passed. Sadly, the administrative team at the ministry took longer than anticipated in processing the decree and so, he will return home, but Ann will not be here to greet him. He is also to be provided with a new wand..."

Ominis, who had taken that moment to believe it safe to take a sip of tea to calm his nerves, once again choked on its contents, dropping everything as he jumped up from the table; his wand sparked violently; "a new wand! But Professor... We all know how emotionally unstable Sebastian became in his pursuit to cure Ann. We know, how far into the dark arts he went and what he was capable and willing to do to obtain a cure. He cast Crucio on Cassy! He used Imperius on a Goblin loyalist! He killed his own uncle! By yours and the minister's own admittance, he has been in a state of desperation at Azkaban, and now he is to be presented with a new wand?! Really, this is too much!"

Ominis began to pace the room. He loosened his tie and ran his fingers through his hair. Altogether the scene was quite destressing for both professor and ex-student. Matilda stood up and gently placed her hand on Ominis's shoulders. She guided him back to his seat while softly whispering, "I know, I know..." With a wave of her wand, she had cleared away the spilled tea and had conjured a blanket, which she wrapped around Ominis's shoulders; "we knew this would come as a shock for you, dear..." Ominis looked up, his foggy eyes now pink in colour as tears quietly slipped down his cheeks. So many emotions were working their way through him; a mix of grief, anger, frustration and (although he would not admit it out loud) a mix of fear and joy to be reunited with his dear friend – who he had condemned to five years in the cruellest of environments; "you and Minister Spavin have been in close contact, Professor" he quietly observed.

Matilda smiled pleasantly, "Ominis, you misunderstand. I have learned all this from Cassy. She is too close a contact to serve as Sebastian's custodian, instead she has been assigned to review Sebastian's progress from a distance. She was deeply saddened to be unable to attend Ann's funeral today, however she was following orders directly from the Minister to keep her distance and to make it seem as though she has distanced herself from you and Ann. She has been sworn to secrecy, however she insisted that you be informed as she fears that Minister Spavin is showing his years and is not completely firing from all cylinders. Furthermore, someone leaked the news of Sebastian's release to the press, which would explain why members of the Daily Prophet are pestering you. Suffice it to say, you will be under Cassy's protection, regardless of whether you opt to stay here or relocate. She will also be observing Sebastian without his knowledge. We do not know how he will respond to his sister's passing, nor do we know how he will respond to both you and Cassy, as you both played such key roles in his final days at Hogwarts, those few years ago." Ominis nodded slowly. Wrapping the blanket tightly around his shoulders, he cautiously asked; "what is the exact date of Sebastian's release?" Professor Weasley opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by an urgent knock at the door, making them both jump violently out of their seats. Ominis's eyes were wide with apprehension, and he was rooted to the spot. Keeping a tight hold of her wand, Matilda approached the door, as another set of urgent knocks rained down on the timber panels. This time however, a familiar voice followed; "Ominis? Professor Weasley? It's Cassy! Are either of you in?"