#meandering mondays

[crosseyedcricketart]

2 Summer Days in Chattanooga, Tennessee.

A summer Itinerary for Chattanooga, Tennessee.

This includes 2 full days in Chattanooga, accounting the 2 other days for travel days. This is a flexible itinerary where you can shift things around to better fit your wants. This includes approximate times to fully enjoy the attractions. This is what I would give to a friend if they asked what I would do in Chattanooga for a trip. Timing is approximate. Remember that depending on the day you plan to go that attractions may have different times or different amounts of crowds. This does not include food.

Day 1 — Lookout Mountain & Trains.

9:00—9:30 a.m. — Rock City Gardens

It takes me about an hour and a half to get through the gardens, and Rock City itself recommends 1 1/5 — 2 hours to get through the gardens.

website: www.seerockcity.com

10:45—11:15 a.m. — Ruby Falls Caverns

Ruby Falls takes about 2—3 hours to complete, and is not very accessible for mobility issues since it’s literally a cavern. This is great if you have fine mobility, no issues standing for long periods of time, kids that are interested in caverns, and if you like waterfalls. I wouldn’t blanket this for everyone. Look into the walk and see if you are up to it.

** Ruby Falls offers more intimate tours at earlier and later times in the day depending on the time of year, so you could swap the morning in Rock City for a morning in Ruby Falls and do Rock City afterwards.

website: www.rubyfalls.com

2:30 p.m. — Lunch

This schedule works better if you eat a later lunch normally.

3:30 p.m. — Tennessee Valley Railroad Museum.

1-2 hour experience for the local Missionary Ridge line trip.

website: www.tvrail.com

5:30 p.m. — End attractions, rest.

OR

9:00—9:30 a.m. — Rock City Gardens

It takes me about an hour and a half to get through the gardens, and Rock City itself recommends 1 1/5 — 2 hours to get through the gardens.

website: www.seerockcity.com

11:30 a.m. — Incline Railway

The Incline Railway is on St. Elmo Street on the base of Lookout Mountain which travels up the side of Lookout Mountain; this is wheelchair accessible and I would recommend to do this over Ruby Falls if you’re not up for possible claustrophobia. The Incline Railway recommends about 1 hour for the entire experience.

website: www.ridetheincline.com

12:30 p.m. — Lunch

I would encourage you to look at local restaurants if they appeal to you in the area; there are chain restaurants if you or your party are up for the more familiar.

Here’s some places we’ve been: Maple Street Biscuit Company (Gunbarrel Road) / Cracker Barrel (Shallowford Village Drive) / O’Charley’s (Shallowford Village Drive) / Red Robin (Hamilton Place Blvd.)

2:00 p.m.—2:30 p.m. — Tennessee Valley Railroad Museum

The Tennessee Valley Railroad Museum takes about 1-2 hours for the entire experience, so I would recommend this as the final attraction of the day. The Local Line trip takes you to the turn-table and repair shop and back to the main station. This is a great attraction for kids and adults alike, but I will warn you that kids really like this so if you would like to have a less-kid heavy ride, I would reschedule this for an earlier time in the day.

website: www.tvrail.com

5:00 p.m. — End attractions, rest.

I hate itineraries that don’t allow for rest. You need to rest, even on vacation, and give your body time to recharge. Go watch some Food Network.

Day 2 — Downtown Chattanooga.

This is split into two, so those with you with kids and those without have more accurate timing.

With Kids— (toddler — 10)

10:00 a.m. — Creative Discovery Museum

This takes about 2-3 hours, depending on how quickly your child goes through it. I personally see this as pretty good timing, since you can go from breakfast, to this, to lunch. There isn’t a defined age group for this museum; personally, I would say 2-13 year olds would be the main target, and some Chattanooga mothers have defined it as 3-10 year olds. There are different areas for different age groups.

** If your child has sensory issues, there is a free Thursday night event on the first Thursday of every month from 5:30 p.m.—8:00 p.m. This event requires registration and is capped at 100 visitors.

website: cdmfun.org

12:30 p.m.—1:00 p.m. — Lunch

There are some nice spots to eat that are local and they have a great Chile’s.

1:30—2:00 p.m. — Tennessee Aquarium

**Depending on your child and their age, you can switch this with the CDM, and go to the Aquarium in the morning and CDM in the afternoon.

This is where I have some of my best childhood memories. This takes about 2-3 hours to fully go through both museums. My only ask would be to not flood the elevators with non-necessity strollers as people with mobility issues also need to use these elevators. Strollers are allowed in the museum but they can clog up the walking areas and tight areas, so I would recommend only having one if you have to.

website: www.tnaqua.org

5:00 p.m. — rest.

I probably don’t need to tell you this if you’re already a parent, but just in case, keep in mind kids need more rest than adults, even if they’re an older kid. Make sure if it was a big day for them that you let them rest enough.

Without Kids—

9:00 a.m. — Tennessee Aquarium

The earlier you go, the less rambunctious children there are. Children will be children, so if you want a quieter experience, go when there are less children.

In the summer, they are currently opening at 9:00 a.m. It takes about 2-3 hours to go through both aquariums. I would recommend bringing a mask in case of “it’s just a cold” people when it gets more busy, and if you have sensory issues, earbuds or headphones of some sort. Those are what I do.

12:00 p.m. — Lunch

This is peak lunchtime, but if this is where you are hungry, you should eat. or at least have a snack.

OR

12:00 p.m. — Hunter Museum of American Art

If you want to eat a later lunch, I would recommend taking a short drive (or walk, if it’s not flooded) to the Hunter Museum of American Art. This museum is a nice break from the summer heat and is usually quiet. I would recommend 1 1/2 — 2 hours for this museum, maybe more if you’d like to meander.

2:30 p.m. - Lunch

3:00 p.m. — Downtown shopping.

There are a lot of little cute stores in downtown Chattanooga and I would encourage you to explore. Some of them are a bit touristy, but if you’re having fun, who cares. I like the Moonpie General Store and Rocket Fizz. There is also Starline Books a little further out of this main stretch.

5:00 p.m. — Dinner & rest.

I always like having an earlier dinner when on trips so I can have more time to just relax and rest at night.

That’s my itinerary for what I would do in two full days in Chattanooga. Depending on how close you live to Chattanooga, this can also just be a weekend trip. If you’re youthful and your knees work. If not, you can account for two extra days for travel and rest.

Let me know if there are any other things you would do in Chattanooga, Tennessee.

Happy travels! — Annie, the crosseyed cricket.

[theogony]

HI ARU SERVICE IS TRASH ATM AND I HOPE THIS SEND S LMAOO BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!! I HAVE FAILED TO TRANSFER EVERYONE'S BIRTHDAYS INTO MY CALENDAR BUT I DID. REMEMBER YOURS. FHDN. anyway i hope you're doing well and having a lovely time and my condolences that your birthday is on a monday... sending you ALL my love and well-wishes and also some sliced oranges for strength 💚💚💚

INK THIS IS SO SWEEET <3 <3 <3 THANK YOU SM A BEST APRIL FOOLS TO YOU (and birthday in advance) :0 and i promise i'll get to the discord soon fghuejikolp;[ (is a liar) (will still try) (sending love)

[marblerose-rue]

HI GUYS i am so sorry for the sudden drop in activity between allergies + college im just gonna clear off the rest of this week . i may do a big group type thing to catch up w/o giving myself too much extra work BUT i hope everyone is well!! <3

[dartumbles]

Meandering Monday

With the backlight on you can see how far I’ve been able to dot into the suds. Without the backlight you can see how the colors paint the picture. Yay! I caught back up to the beginning of the tinking. The rest is progress, I hope. My daughter shared a recorder YouTube with me. It is fun and may explain my adult experience. I didn’t have a recorder in grade school. I only met the instrument…

[peachsukii]

Operation: Shut Down

『♡』  fem!reader x bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ Senior year of UA | Characters are all 18 ꒱ ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡ summary: during their senior year of UA, midoriya, bakugo and todoroki return to endeavor's agency for senior internships. while on a supervised patrol, bakugo experiences his first 'failure' as a hero-in-training and takes it extremely hard. reader makes an attempt to care for his fragile state when he returns to the dorms. tags & warnings:  failed mission, ptsd/trauma, mentions of blood/gore/violence, depression & anxiety, mild angst, emotional comfort, semi-fluff, bakugo and midoriya hug!? a/n: similar to the "tidal wave" story, but this one is a bit grittier and heavier subject matter. hopefully this also isn't too OOC for bakugo! i figure at some point during their time at UA, or in the field, they’ll have to go through something similar to this on their own. ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 2,671 ꒱

Ahh, Saturday mornings - one of your favorite times of the week! There's something refreshing about being free from classes, surrounded by all your friends as you laze around the dorms. Yourself and Bakugo are usually the first two awake, often bumping into each other in the kitchen for breakfast. Midoriya and Kirishima are typically next, followed by a random assortment of the rest of the class. One thing's for certain, though, Kaminari is always the last one awake. Jiro swears it annoys the shit out of her that she needs to have an extra alarm to get him up, but he never fails to make her smile when she does.

Today, the dorms are on the quieter side as most of the class are off at their senior internships for a long weekend. You completed yours a few weeks prior, leaving yourself and Kirishima, Kaminari, Ashido and Yaoyorozu hanging around this weekend. Meandering toward the kitchen to grab a bowl of cereal, you run into Midoriya, sitting at the small table - alone.

"Hey! I thought you guys were gone 'til Monday?" you ask, confused as to why he's back early. As you approach the table, you see the somber emotion painted across his face, the usual radiance in his eyes dulled.

"Oh, hey y/n. Yeah, we got back late last night."

There's something unsettling about the way he said "late last night." He still hasn't looked up at you. You place a hand on his shoulder to grab his attention.

"Everything okay?" He jumps a bit at your touch, startling you. He's not typically this jumpy. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Zu."

You can see he swallows nervously, his eyes glued to the table.

"Christ, Izuku! You're scaring me, spit it out already!" you urge, growing impatient with his evasiveness.

Midoriya finally turns to face you, his face not able to hide the fact he didn't sleep last night, the darkness growing under his eyes.

"It's Kacchan...," he starts, stopping for longer than you were comfortable with before continuing quietly. "He's in his room and hasn't come out since last night. He won't talk to me or Shouto."

Your stomach cartwheels with a sour feeling.

"You can't just say that and not give me more background on what the hell you're talking about."

He shifted uncomfortably in the diner chair, placing his head in his hands on the table.

"We were on a supervised patrol with Endeavor after dinner last night. The three of us were responsible for escorting a family across the city when Endeavor received an emergency call, taking Kacchan with him and leaving myself and Shouto responsible for the original task."

Midoriya paused, letting out a soft exhale.

"While on the emergency call, Endeavor ended up getting hurt -," he puts his hands up, waving them as he quickly interrupts himself to say he's fine before putting his head back down. "- due to a fall. Supposedly, the villain they were pursuing took advantage of that as a distraction. Kacchan was able to subdue him..."

Again with the damn pauses.

"...but?" You try not to sound too annoyed, but can't help it. You loved Izuku dearly, but he really needed to learn to get to the damn point.

"...but the civilian he captured wasn't so lucky."

What the hell does that mean?

Something in your gut tells you to sit down for whatever it is he's going to say next. You take the seat next to him, placing a hand on his thigh for reassurance.

"You...don't have to say anything if you don't want to, Zu," your tone shifting from your previous annoyance to concern.

He puts a hand on top of yours and gives it a squeeze. "T-thanks, but it's okay. Maybe you could try to talk with him? I had Kirishima try, too with no luck."

"Okay, sure. Do you wanna tell me what happened, then?"

You're not really sure if you should know, at this point. If Bakugo's locked himself in his room and refuses to speak to anyone? Some serious shit must have happened. He's not one to completely shutdown and isolate himself, let alone from Midoriya and Kirishima.

"The...civilian didn't make it. The villain planted a bomb inside of the civilian as, uh...a backup plan, I guess. It went off as Kacchan was escorting them to the ambulance for evaluation."

Your stomach stirs a second time, afraid to confirm what you think happened. "...so, you're telling me he saw someone...explode?"

He hesitates. "Y-yeah. Endeavor told us he went into shock, which isn't like him at all but completely normal, all things considered. He went non-verbal until we got back last night. He didn't even yell, told us he was going to bed, walked off and slammed the door."

"Fucking hell...do you know if he at least got some sleep on the drive back?"

"Funny enough, yeah. He fell asleep on my shoulder." He smiles faintly, trying to look at the positive in this situation. You can't help but smile, too, imagining Bakugo passed out on him without a care in the world.

Midoriya rubs two fingers against his temple - he's intensely fighting to stay awake. But who could blame him? His best friend just went through something extremely traumatic and he doesn't know the best way to help him.

You rub his back, attempting to calm his visible anxiety.

"Alright, I'll tag in. Please Izuku, go to bed. You need to rest," you assert, knowing that he would keep himself up until he physically couldn't stand if it meant helping a friend - especially Bakugo.

"Yeah. Thank you, y/n," Midoriya says wearily. As he stands, you jump up from your own seat to wrap him in a tight hug. He accepts, sighing into your shoulder as his body deflates into yours.

"Come on, I'll walk you back to your room."

───

After you walk Midoriya back to his dorm room, you go inside with him for a few minutes to be sure he actually gets into bed. He lazily crawls under the sheets, letting you tuck him in as his eyes are fluttering closed. You pat his head and mutter a 'night Zu' as you tip-toe to the door, carefully shutting it behind you.

Jogging up to the 4th floor, you make your way down the hall to Bakugo's room. You stand outside for a moment before knocking twice.

No response.

You give him a few seconds before knocking again.

Nothing. You don't hear any movement on the other side of the door, either. Maybe he's asleep?

One final try before you give up and resort to calling him.

Thudding footsteps are stomping on the floor from inside his room after the third set of knocks. The sudden sound shocks you as the door flies open, Bakugo's scowling face emerging from behind it, the whites of his eyes faintly pink in color. Has he been crying?

"God dammit, nerd! I fuckin' told you -," He doesn't notice it's you right away as he's shouting in your face. Once the realization sets in, he visibly recoils at his mistake. "...sorry. Thought you were Izuku."

"I could go dye my hair and draw freckles on if you wanna yell at me," you joke.

He doesn't laugh - not even an eyeroll.

Your heart sinks.

Neither of you say anything, standing there awkwardly as the air thickens between the two of you. Bakugo audibly exhales and you can't tell if he's annoyed, angry or...sad.

"Can I come in?" you ask humbly.

He says nothing, retreating back into his room - but, he leaves the door open for you. You take that as an accepted invitation, coming inside and closing the door behind you. He sits on his bed, knees tucked up to his chest as he scoots back to the wall.

Seeing Bakugo like this tugs at your heartstrings, despondent and detached, the opposite of any emotions he'd usually carry. You follow him to the bed and quietly ask permission to sit with him.

"Do you want me to sit with you, Kat?"

He doesn't move, just answers with a muted 'whatever.'

As gentle as you can, you climb onto the bed and shimmy next to him, back against the wall. You'll take this as a win, especially since Midoriya mentioned him not answering anyone else. You're about to say something as you hear a sniffle, confirming your suspicions.

Bakugo was and has been crying.

You reach over to put a hand in his hair in an attempt to comfort him. Instantaneously, he smacks your hand away - hard - and a spark jumps off his palm. Normally, he'd let you touch him without an issue - to an extent, of course, but right now? You understand why he wouldn't want any physical touch.

"Okay, I'll sit here as long as you want," you affirm, retracting your hand and pulling your own knees to your chest. "You don't have to say anything."

With that, the flood gates busted wide open. Bakugo whips his head in your direction, his nose red and eyes swollen, and frantically scrambles on to you. The two of you fall sideways into the pillows at the head of the bed as he wraps his arms around you into an awkward embrace. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, latching onto the back of your shirt with an ironclad grip as he begins to sob.

You have never heard him cry this hard over anything, not even after his fight with Midoriya back in their first year.

You don't wait for Bakugo to say anything before you're cradling him against you, one hand delicately stroking his hair while the other massages light circles on his back.

"I've got you, Katsuki, it's okay," you whisper soothingly while trying your damndest to stop yourself from crying along with him. You wish, more than anything in the world, that you could physically remove the memory from his brain to free him of this trauma.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll stay as long as you want."

He doesn't respond, only pushes himself deeper into your embrace. You can feel the material of your shirt sticking to your skin at your collarbone from his snot and tears, and you're definitely going to have bruises on your back from his fingers digging into you for support. None of that matters though in the moment, what matters is that he's getting the initial shock out of his system.

You're not too sure how long you both lay there, but with time, you can tell Bakugo's calming down by his sobs mellowing out. His body begins to loosen up, the tension melting from his tightened grip around you. And then you hear it - a low snore.

He'd fallen asleep.

You tilt your head back to get a look at his face. His features have relaxed around his puffy eyes and pink nose. Without thinking, you run a hand through his bangs, exposing his forehead and press a tender kiss to it. He doesn't stir and continues to take deep, sleepy breaths.

───

Bakugo wakes an hour later, dazed and exhausted. When he starts to shift in your arms, you open your eyes. You give him a hearty smile as he releases his hold, rolling onto his back next to you.

"Mornin' sunshine. How're you feeling?"

He snorts as his eyes focus on the ceiling. "Like shit."

He pauses before looking back at you. "But less than before. Thanks. I'm just fuckin' tired."

"You scared me, I've never seen you that upset before," you admit. "You don't have to talk about it now, or ever, just know that I'm here for whatever you need."

"I don't even know what to say about it. Shit sucked, but it's what we signed up for." He's very monotone, but at least he's talking.

You roll over to face him. "I'm sorry you had to see it."

Bakugo sighs. "'S what it is. I'll get over it. Endeavor told me the first one is the hardest, better to get it outta the way before becomin' a pro."

Damn, that made your heart ache.

"Just 'cause we wanna help people doesn't mean we can't also ask the same for ourselves. Heroes need a hero, too."

He lolls his head to the side and stares at you, a gleam in his tired eyes. "...yeah."

The room is silent as the two of you take a break from the rough conversation. If he doesn't want to continue talking, you don't push it. Instead, you offer a distraction.

"I'd love to take you hiking today, if you're up for it," you say with enthusiasm. "I know how much you love that one trail nearby with the overlook of the city."

Bakugo felt his heart flutter at the proposal, confusing the hell out of him, but offered a sense of comfort that he needed. He loved that you remembered something so niche about his interests.

"Maybe tomorrow."

"Sure! You tell me how early you wanna go and I'll get my ass out of bed. Just for you," you tease, jokingly smacking his arm. "We can get lunch on the way back from the hike, too. Wherever you wanna go!"

Between the swirl of emotions from earlier and how sweet you're being to him now, he's overwhelmed with a feeling he can't quite place.

"Y/N, can I ask you something?" he asks abruptly.

Well, that came out of nowhere.

"Always, Kat. What is it?"

He stalls his follow up, seeming to think a little longer on how he wans to phrase his question.

"Why...are you here with me?"

His question baffles you. "Because you're my best friend?"

Best friend, he repeats in his head.

You notice the pondering look in his eyes as he turns to face you, shifting to lay on his side.

"It's because I care deeply about you, Katsuki. Nothing'll ever change that."

"...promise?" His voice is shaky, a nervousness to his tone.

You reach out and touch his cheek, stroking it lovingly with your thumb.

"Is that even a question? Yes, I promise. You're stuck with my ass forever, like it or not. I’ll be cheering for you every step of the way."

He laughs - genuinely.

And then he smiles. Your heart soars into the heavens.

"There's my favorite firecracker!" you boast, squishing his cheek in your hand.

Bakugo huffs at the sudden affection, a dusting of pink on his cheeks and nose.

"Th' fuck?!" he curses, playfully poking your forehead. "I'm not a firecracker!"

“Coulda fooled me, Mr. Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight.”

The two of you play fight, cackling like children as the tension melts from the room.

Even if it’s just for a little while, Bakugo forgot about the agonizing dread from hours ago.

───

Later on in the dorm lobby, you’re sitting on the couch with Bakugo, feet in his lap watching TV as he’s reading a book. Midoriya comes prancing into the room, fresh faced from his nap. His eyes brighten when he sees Bakugo on the couch.

“Hey guys! Kacchan, how are you feeling?” he asks cheerfully, taking a seat on the couch next to him.

Unexpectedly, Bakugo wraps an arm over Midoriya’s shoulder, tugging him into his side.

“Fine, nerd. Thanks.” He lets go, puts a hand on his head and roughly fluffs his curls - just like when they were kids. Midoriya is so taken aback that he doesn’t say anything, he just smiles and relaxes next to him.

“What are we watching?”

You lean sideways to catch a glimpse of the boys together on the couch, co-existing without any negativity. Even after all the shit life throws at them, they still find ways to shove it all away to enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes, they just need a little help getting back to that mentality.

A silent huff escapes you as you lay back into the couch.

These boys are going to be the death of me.

i love these goobers and wanna buy them a lifetime’s worth of ice cream and take them to disney world to make them happy :’)

[glutengoblin]

Guilty As Sin, Sebastian Sallow X Reader (Part 1)

A/N: This one has been sitting in my drafts for waaaaay too long. Originally, I planned to make it just one complete part before posting. Given its length, I decided to split it up.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Thanks for all the love on my other pieces of writing, it means the world to me!

(She/her pronouns, house neutral)

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Some 18+ Content

Disclaimer: I am not Taylor Swift and therefore do not own the rights to "Guilty As Sin"

Though the Hogwarts library was typically where MC liked to study most, today she couldn’t capture her focus. At some point when she was working through the stack of parchments she needed to complete by the following Monday, the words had begun to blur indistinguishably together.

Studying alone was a complete drag. Placing her head on the desk, she resigned to taking a short break, in the hope that it might allow her to regain her focus.

She felt as if she had begun to blur into the background noise of the library herself. The gentle chatter of students working together, the occasional shush from Scribner, and the tap of quill pens against the desks nearby only served as a reminder of how quiet her life had been since it had all happened.

The events of her 5th year had hit her like a freight train; she felt as if that was the only appropriate way to describe it at that point. Learning that she had magical abilities (let alone ancient magical abilities), the nearly insurmountable weight of having to protect the wizarding world on her shoulders, and the eventual loss of her mentor was more trauma than any 15-year-old should have to endure. She knew that now. Yet, somehow, one of the worst parts of that trauma was trying to work through what was left of her shattered friendships.

Poppy, Natty, Garreth, and Amit had stuck around thankfully- she wasn’t entirely alone, and that much she was thankful for. Their crew managed to keep her mostly entertained, as there was a never-ending supply of mischief that they managed to get her into. Poppy always managed to find a way to add a new best to the vivarium. Figuring out their care was a constant challenge, and MC was thankful Deek was so willing to help in the endeavor. Natty, on the other hand, constantly dragged MC into the Forbidden Forest, hell-bent on ridding the Earth of the few Ashwinders that still meandered about the land. Garreth was… Garreth. That alone was enough to keep her on her toes.

Ominis and Sebastian… That was another story. Since the events occurred in the catacombs, Ominis and her had spoken occasionally in the undercroft, mainly trying to parse through what was left of Ominis’s shattered emotions, due to the betrayal he felt his best friend had committed. It was an effort to convince Ominis that they shouldn’t send Sebastian to Azkaban the moment he killed his uncle. He felt as if Sebastian had now sealed his fate towards turning into a dark wizard. However, once he calmed down a bit, Ominis seemed to conceptualize Sebastian’s decision as an act of self-defense; still, Ominis felt like their friendship was forever fractured beyond repair, and the boys hadn’t spoken since.

At first, MC had done her best to avoid being around, or even thinking about Sebastian. They had grown remarkably close during their 5th, honestly to the point where MC had found herself beginning to think of Sebastian as more than a friend. But after her fifth year, she needed time to try and process what he had done for herself. She kept her space, and he seemed to fall into their new rhythm. Gone were the days of playfully shoving each other as they walked the Hogsmeade streets, mouths full of pumpkin pasties. Instead, their relationship was reduced to glances across classrooms, followed by the occasional smile from Sebastian - but nothing more.

MC’s friends picked up on the obvious changes in behavior from her and Ominis towards Sebastian, and somewhere along the line, they had decided he was person non-grata. While none of them knew what he did, for Ominis and MC to turn their backs on him, they were forced to assume the worst. Thus, even if MC ever did want to try and close the gap, she felt like couldn’t. Part of the reason she adored her friends was because they had grown so protective of her since her fifth year- but she also resented it, feeling as if golden handcuffs now controlled her every move in regards to Sebastian.

The world blurred back into focus as Poppy plopped down beside her, looking over the papers strewn across the table. Poppy picked one up, examined it, and frowned.

“Seems like you’re a bit overwhelmed at the moment.” Poppy offered a small smile, receiving a laugh from MC in return.

“You could say that. I just need to get all of this done by Monday. And quite frankly, it's a lot.”

Poppy let out a soft melodic laugh. “I hate to break it to you, Y/N, but unfortunately that will be our future for the next year.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh, and flipped a page, examining its contents as she tried to pull the information from her mind. At this point, it was simply beyond her. Thankfully, she generally started her work early, and since it was only Thursday she decided it might be best to take a break. She began shuffling the papers into neater stacks, looking over at Poppy.

“I'm honestly not sure I can focus for much longer. How do you feel about a break? Perhaps a walk to Hogsmeade might be in order?” Poppy flashed a smile and began helping her friend pack up her papers.

“That sounds wonderful.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Although it was only September, there was slight a crispness about the air that spoke of fall in Scotland. Y/N savored her breaths, and the feeling of sunlight dancing on her skin, knowing that soon the area would be reduced to days full of rain. Though she adored the chillier fall days, colored by falling leaves and perfect for drinking tea, she was thankful she got outside while she could.

Poppy trotted alongside her, excitement evidently growing as they reached the Hogsmeade gates. The town was pretty rowdy for a Thursday, but that was likely due to the fact that it was the first-week students were back in Hogwarts. Most of them were likely retrieving supplies that they had forgotten to purchase before returning to school.

Y/N sighed, her thoughts wistfully returning to two years ago, almost to the exact day when Sebastian had been guiding her on that exact quest. While the troll attack had certainly put a damper on things, Y/N had greatly appreciated the time she got to spend with Sebastian. She knew from that point onwards that they would be great friends, or even something more. **She bit her lip at that additional thought, unsure of exactly where it had come from.

Truth be told, that was a lie. She had been eyeing Sebastian at the Great Feast earlier that week, and in their first few classes together. The transition to the seventh year had done something to him. Although she had always considered him attractive, he had grown taller and filled out a bit. While not overly muscular, the new changes certainly made him look older, something she found her thoughts wandering too over the past couple of days.

Y/N snapped out of her state of quiet contemplation when the pair reached Honeyduke’s. They were on the hunt for some treats to add to their stashes. Poppy made a beeline to the jelly beans, while Y/N took some time to peruse the chocolate frogs. Garreth had told her a rumor that apparently there was a way to determine which card each container held. The print supposedly differed slightly on each container, so Y/N leaned in to study the stack, trying to look for any hint of this supposed difference.

Eventually, she stood straight again to passivated the tinge of pain that played at her spine for bending over too long. To her surprise, she looked over the stack to find herself staring into a pair of familiar brown eyes.

“S-Sebastian?” Y/N choked out, caught a bit off guard by their sudden proximity. Although the stack of treats still separated them, this was closer than they had been in over a year. It was then that Y/N realized how tall he had grown - the difference was a bit startling now.

Sebastian stayed quiet for a moment, clearly considering his next words carefully.

“Y/N- I was hoping we’d run into each other at some point this year. I-I… I’ve been meaning to speak with you.” A look of shock crossed her face, before settling into an uncontrolled smile. Maybe this was the way to bridge the gap after this year.

“Alright… About what exactly?” Sebastian opened his mouth to respond, but an instant later, Y/N felt an arm being looped through her’s. She looked over to see Poppy, who looked to be a mix of both uncomfortable and pissed. Poppy’s eyes traveled up and down Sebastian, obviously sizing him up.

“How do you do Sallow?” She asked, her voice dripping with more disdain than Y/N had expected to ever hear out of Poppy. Sebastian’s smile flattered for a moment, a glimpse of a frown crossing his lips before he gained control of his emotions again.

“I’m good Sweeting. It’s good to see you after so long.” Poppy offered a disingenuous smile, before turning to Y/N.

“Y/N, we must be going. I heard a rumor that there’s a sale on pet feed at The Brood and Peck. We must go before they run out. Bye Sebastian!”

With that, Poppy practically dragged her friend out on the street, spinning around to face her.

“What was he thinking! Suddenly speaking to you like that- after a whole year! The audacity.” She shook her head, as Y/N studied the ground, trying to decide on the best method to proceed with this conversation.

“It’s alright Poppy. Honestly, it was nice to see him again after so long.” Poppy frowned at that, clearly a bit distraught at that comment coming from Y/N.

“Look, I don’t know why you and Ominis stopped speaking to him, but it must have been bad to cause that big of a rift in your friendship. If it truly hurt you that much… I would just be careful around him. You really don’t need any more emotional turmoil in your life.”

Y/N sighed softly, running a hand through her hair as she thought about Poppy’s point. She had to admit, in a sense she was right.

“I’ll take your comments under advisory Poppy. Now, was there truly a sale at Brood and Peck?” Poppy instantly brightened up at the question, the frown melting from her face.

“Oh yes! You think I could lie about something like that? So, we must head over- we definitely need more fed for the vivarium before they run out.”

With that, the girls departed the front of Honeyduke’s. Y/N glanced back once they had taken a few steps, and swore that she could see Sebastian in the window, looking at them. But, she turned around to follow Poppy, figuring that the mystery of what Sebastian wanted to discuss would best be left to later.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A day later, Y/N was sitting in her dorm, polishing off the last of the stack of homework she had been working on the previous day. Although it felt lame to be doing work on a Friday night, rather than being out with her friends, Y/N enjoyed it. Getting all of her homework done now meant that she could enjoy the rest of her weekend.

Just as she was dotting her last Is and crossing her Ts, an owl flew in through her open window and dropped a letter in front of her. Y/N was a bit surprised, as typically she received mail in the mornings at breakfast. Needless to say, receiving a letter at this time of night was a bit strange.

Y/N opened the envelope, as the owl sat perched on her coat rack. To her surprise, she instantly recognized the handwriting, even a year later. It was Sebastian's.

“Dear Y/N,

I'm writing to you because we were unable to finish our conversation yesterday at Honeydukes.

I've been wanting to speak with you about what has transpired since 5th year, and mainly, I wanted to apologize for my behavior.

Y/N, I am deeply sorry for the way I pulled you into my schemes that year. It was unfair to you, and I shouldn't have taken advantage of your friendship like that. You're a true friend, and I had very few of those. So, I want you to know that I greatly appreciate everything you did for me.

Secondly, I'm assuming that part of the reason why you haven't spoken to me is because of what occurred in the catacombs. All I wanted to say was thank you. Over the past year, without you, Anne, and Ominis in my life, I've realized the error of my ways. That the path was dragging me further down, away from my family and friends - the people who matter most to me. I'm sorry.

I also feel horrible for not being there for you after Professor Fig's death. I know he was a great mentor to you, like a parent, and that it must have hurt very much. I feel horrible for not being able to support you through that time.

I'm hoping you can find it in your heart to forgive me. If that's not possible, I completely understand. If so, I wish you all the best in life. You deserve it.

Sincerely,

Sebastian Sallow”

Y/N sat there, a bit shell-shocked at what she had just read. There was no bit of that Sebastian snark in the letter. He seemed to be genuinely sorry, and trying his best to bridge the gap that formed between them.

Her heart fluttered a bit in her chest as she retrieved a fresh envelope and piece of parchment from her slightly broken desk drawer, and began to hastily write.

“Dear Sebastian,

While I admit it was difficult to come to terms with what happened 5th year, I feel as if I finally can.

Your apology is much appreciated, but I should also apologize to for abandoning you in what must have been one of your darkest times. That is not the actions of a true friend, and I am deeply sorry.

While I certainly think that things are more complicated now, I believe I'm ready to try and be friends again.

Best,

Y/N”

She quickly sealed the envelope with a press of wax, then gave it to the owl along with a stray carrot she kept around for her own. She felt bad that she had kept the owl waiting for so long, but as it flew off into the darkening sky, she knew she had made the right choice. Keeping Sebastian waiting for a reply till the next day seemed unnecessarily cruel.

Given her work for the day was finished, she decided that she might as well get ready for bed. Ominis had asked for her assistance with something tomorrow, and though she was unsure of the task entailed, she wanted to be well rested.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The next morning, Ominis approached her, as she sat on a bench reading a book. Although it was already after breakfast and she had gone to bed at a decent hour, Y/N hadn't gotten good rest. Truth be told, she was up most of the night, twisting and turning at the thought of Sebastian's letter.

Being friends again was a thought that excited her. She had missed his snarky comments and excitement about activities like crossed wands. But, rebuilding their friendship would also be difficult. Not only did they have to work through their own messes of emotion that were left with the trauma, but also Y/N had to mind her other friends. Based on Poppy's reaction the other day, she figured it might be best to keep the information that she and Sebastian had reconnected to herself.

Y/N was startled from her train of thought when Ominis approached her, and cleared his throat.

“Good morning, Y/N. I appreciate you meeting me here today.”

Smiling up at Ominis, she shut her book and stood.

“Of course. May I ask what it is you want help with?”

Ominis nodded, and then began working towards what Y/N knew to be the entrance to the undercroft. “I was hoping we could finally get the place neatened up a bit. I feel as if we’ve basically abandoned it since the events of 5th year- occurred. One day, some new Hogwarts students may happen upon it, and I want to ensure that we’re setting our best possible foot forward. Is anyone around?” He asked, as they approached the entrance. Y/N glanced around, determining that the coast was clear, and they descended into the opening.

The undercroft had developed a solid layer of dust since they had last visited. Crates were still stacked haphazardly across the floor. The place had once been such a comfort to Y/N, so welcoming. She, Ominis, and Sebastian used to spend hours of their time there, studying, laughing, and simply enjoying each other’s company. Now, it was reduced to simply a storage place.

Y/N glanced over at the triptych, only for a second, as the memories from their escapades 5th year came flooding back. Though she didn’t miss that period of her life, she realized then that she did truly miss how close she and Sebastian had been.

Shaking herself loose, she inquired what Ominis wanted to start cleaning first. Walking forward, she began to rid the space of the crates, replacing them instead with a new set of training dummies. The candles were soon replaced too, with newly conjured unused ones. The two continued working, determined to make the space they once held so dear comfortable again.

Soon enough, the undercroft was sufficiently cleaned to their liking. Y/N had even conjured a few new pieces of furniture, which were scattered around the place. A new couch, with a coffee table and matching chairs, were perhaps the best additions. Y/N and Ominis were certainly thankful for it as they took a break, admiring their work.

“I think it looks great.” Y/N smiled, patting her friend on his hand.

“So do I.” A smile crossed Ominis’s features as Y/N let out a chuckle at his joke.

“I’m sure it does.” She paused for a few seconds, considering her next words carefully. “It doesn’t quite feel right without Sebastian though… Does it?” That earned a curious look from Ominis, who thought for a moment before shaking his head.

“I still have yet to speak to him since everything happened… But I suppose you’re right. It does feel strange to be in here and not hear his quite annoying voice bouncing off the walls.”

Y/N sighed, slightly regretting bringing up the topic, as she knew how heartbroken Ominis had been at Sebastian’s indiscretions. Still, she felt as if they had to discuss it at some point. “Ominis…Have you spoken to Sebastian since it all happened?”

Ominis let out a sigh, his face now turned away from her as he seemed to search his brain for the correct words. “He actually sent me a letter.”

Shock spread over Y/N’s face, as she turned to grab his hand, urging him to continue. “He did…?”

“I- Yes. A couple of days ago. He sent me an owl. Said that he deeply regretted all the pain he had put me through- said he wished that he had been a better friend to me, and listened to my concerns. If I’m being honest… I still haven’t responded. I’m not really sure how to. Part of me wants to forgive him. He was my best friend- but I’m not sure I should… Not after everything.” Y/N could see tears play at the corners of his eyes, as Ominis seemed to contemplate his statements.

“I… that must be difficult. I’m sorry Ominis.” She bit her lip, silently cursing herself for what she was about to say. “Please let me know what you decide to do, I’ll support you either way.”

In some ways, Y/N already knew that was a lie. When it came to Sebastian, she could never find it in herself to be logical. And now, especially since he had apologized to her so sincerely, she could already feel herself slipping back into the grasp of her emotions for him. Truly, she didn’t know what would happen now that Sebastian had sent them both letters… But she hoped for the best.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Later, Y/N returned to her dorm room to find another letter bearing the same crest as yesterday, perched on her desk. She sat down, retrieving her letter opener, hands shaking slightly at the fear of the contents.

“Dear Y/N,

I appreciate your forgiveness more than you could ever imagine, and your apologies, although they are unwarranted.

I’m not quite sure how to approach this “becoming friends again” thing, since I’ve never done it before. So, I suppose I should just start with simple questions: How are classes going for you this semester? Do you still love pumpkin pasties? Are you still afraid of spiders, even fighting off so many of them?

I look forward to your response.

Best,

Sebastian :) “

Y/N smiled to herself at the awkwardness that radiated from his writing. It seemed as if the ever-confident Sebastian Sallow had finally met the match of his charm.

As she sat thinking of a response, her quill twisting in her hand, she considered just how she should approach it if Sebastian asked to meet in person. Ominis still had his own decisions to make regarding forgiving him. Her friends still seemed to feel questionable about him. All factors combined, she felt that it was definitely the right decision to keep the knowledge of their correspondence to herself for a bit until she could figure out how to better approach the situation. She was glad she didn’t admit anything to Ominis.

With that thought through logically, she began working on her letter, eager to send it out before nightfall- Hopefully, that would mean yet another reply from Sebastian that night.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Y/N. Thanks for meeting me here- you don’t know how much it means to me.” Sebastian took a step forward in the dim light of the undercroft, reaching out to gently brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t know how much I’ve been hoping that someday you could forgive me. I know I’m horrible, and I’m the last person that deserves your time… But I… I want you to know that I love you.”

The next thing she felt was the press of his lips against her’s. As if on instinct, her arms reached up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down to her height and further into the kiss. Sebastian stalled for a second as she increased the intensity, before eventually catching up by wrapping his arms around her waist, clinging to her as if she was his last shot of life.

Eventually, the kiss broke, and Sebastian studied her eyes. “Y/N… as much as I love you, you need to wake up now.”

Y/N stared at him blankly, her mouth slightly agape. “Sebastian… What do you mean-?”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Next thing Y/N knew, she was sitting stick straight up in her bed, her breath coming in in panic gulps. She surveyed her surroundings, still reeling from the dream that felt more realistic than any dream she had experienced to date. After a few more breaths, she was able to compose herself- that is until she realized that there was more sunlight than usual streaming through her blinds and until she saw the time on her clock.

With ten minutes to make it to potions before she was late, Y/N was sure that she had never managed to get ready so quickly.

When she finally plopped down next to Poppy in her normal seat, the Hufflepuff looked extremely worried. While Y/N could look disheveled from time to time (often a symptom of her many adventures in the highlands), this was a worse state than Poppy had ever seen her in.

Glancing at Sharp first to ensure he was too busy lecturing to notice, Poppy nudged her friend gently, her brown eyes pooled with concern. With a hushed tone, she whispered, “Y/N- Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Y/N looked startled by Poppy speaking to her, but managed to get her bearings back quickly. “I’m fine Poppy- I just had an interesting dream is all. Now let's hush before Sharp yells at us… again.” Poppy nodded in response, but her face was still painted with worry.

But, she relented and tried her best to focus on the complex lesson of yet another potion that she would never have any application for.

Though the lesson lasted for another hour, ‘an hour too long’ Poppy thought, she didn’t forget about her strange interaction with her friend. Not wanting to push her for more information, since that never really seemed to work with Y/N, Poppy decided to discuss the matter with Natty instead.

As students were finally filtering out of the classroom, Poppy made sure to catch up with Natty, gently pulling on her robes to get her attention. “Natty… would you mind having a quick conversation with me? It’s about Y/N… I’m worried.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Despite the fact that Poppy’s behavior made Y/N feel like she was onto her, Y/N decided to spend the rest of her day as normally as possible. As normally as possible, that is, with thoughts of Sebastian crowding her mind.

She was in a daze throughout all of lunch, barely noticing when Garreth had managed to concoct something that turned a 1st year’s head blue. She could hardly focus through the rest of her classes that day. Even crossed wands couldn’t get her to feign her attention. She barely even reacted when Leander Prewett was shot across the room, which on any other day would have been the highlight of her day.

Instead, she waited for the hours to pass, since the thoughts didn’t seem to. His lips, his hands, his smile, his messy brown hair - each minute detail that made him up. She begged for time to speed up, hoping that the sweet relief of sleep might free her from her mental prison.

By the time she finally made it back to her dorm, she hardly even wanted to open the letter that Sebastian had sent that evening. But, given it was now a cherished part of her routine, she felt as if she should.

There was nothing substantial in it, especially compared to where her thoughts of him had been leading. Instead, it was simply a continuation of the conversation they had been having the previous evening- a drabble about the Holyhead Harpies, and various other quidditch teams. One’s they had both followed during their fifth year. Discussions of quidditch had been a sweet relief during the torment of those long months. Despite not having ever played the game herself, Y/N felt connected to it- truth be told Sebastian’s enthusiasm for the sport probably had something to do with her sudden interest during fifth year.

Y/N wrote a quick reply, figuring he was owed at least that, before resigning herself to going to bed. She readied herself for sleep hurriedly, craving the sweet release of a free mind.

Only it wouldn’t come. Instead, her mind was riddled with even more intense thoughts of him. Of his hands on her, touching her places that no one had before. His hands running down her form, savoring her curves. A thumb, gently caressing her cheek. And, perhaps worst of all, his fingers tracing letters on her thigh. With a shiver going down her spine, she realized he was spelling out “mine”.

Eventually, Y/N woke at 3 am, her mind likely deciding that it couldn’t bear any more of the torment her mind had to offer. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, it seemed pointless to try to sleep again. Trying to set herself to something productive, she realized that she did need a few potion ingredients - specifically ones that were harder to procure. Specifically, ones that required a trip to one of the places Hogwarts students were not allowed to go: the Forbidden Forest.

“Well,” she murmured to herself, “might as well go while I’m least likely to be caught.” Once she had made her decision, she set to prepare herself. A thick coat, scarf, and socks per usual, and a couple of extra wiggenwelds for good measure.

Thankfully the common room was deserted as she decided to take the floo flame, opting to land near the entrance to the forbidden forest.

Perhaps youthful ignorance was why she never felt scared of the area - after all, it was significantly more dangerous than staying in the castle. But Y/N was always confident in her ability to defend herself. Never once had she wanted to be considered a fragile flower. Thus, even though the area was eerily quiet, enough so to give her momentary pause, she decided to continue.

She had begun her way through the forest, quickly picking out a couple of the ingredients she needed for her stock. For some reason, she always found foraging calming. Perhaps it was because it was an activity that always seemed to take her thoughts off the tumultuous events during 5th year.

She leaned down, collected some mushrooms with a few swipes of her pocket knife and placed them into her pouch. Yes, of course, she could have used her wand, but sometimes she felt the use of muggle tools was more therapeutic. It made her feel more connected to the plants that she was oh-so-carefully collecting.

She made her way deeper and deeper into the forest until she began to have the off-putting feeling that something or someone was following her. At this point, the heavy tree cover had completely blotted out the lights from Hogwarts. She cast her gaze around and when she failed to detect anyone she continued her trek until she stumbled upon a poacher camp.

Quickly disillusioning herself, she fel into a crouch behind a tree, studying the scene before her. There only looked to be 2 or 3 poachers at the camp, with a puffskin gently whining in a cage off to the left side. Y/N winced when a poacher approached it and kicked it.

“Oi, quit your yapping.” He yelled at the poor beast, who trembled under the gaze of his captor. Y/N decided then that they would be an easy target.

She moved a bit closer, before revealing herself. The first two barely stood a chance against her, as she quickly transfigured one into a barrel and sent him flying towards the other. The third one wasn’t so easy it turned out.

Out of nowhere, five more figures appeared. A couple more poachers… And a couple of Ashwinders. Y/N ducked, letting out a yelp as she barely avoided being sliced in half by a diffindo thrown her way.

Though Y/N had faced much worse than this (she had taken down Ranrok, after all), she knew this battle was going to be difficult. Her lack of sleep and stress over the double life she was once again living were eating at her in strange ways. She felt herself growing weaker, trying her best to conjure up her ancient magic. To her dismay, the power didn’t want to respond. She tried her best, managing to take down the other poachers with a clever combo. But when an incarerous managed to hit her, she went tumbling to the ground, hitting her head hard.

The last thing she saw before everything went black was a flash of messy brown hair, green robes, and warm brown eyes that could only belong to one person.

Sebastian.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[jmscornerlibrary]

Snape's Search History - Part Three

In which a SNCC meeting takes place.

***

If one was to look at Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger sitting at a round desk in the middle of the common room on Monday evening, one would have thought that they were undoubtedly in the middle of a conspiracy. They were speaking in hushed voices, their eyes darted from one companion to the other, and sometimes, Hermione’s hand would move up and down the small piece of parchment she had placed in front of her. 

However, since Ron had at least two older brothers who spent their whole lives doing just that and since they were all Gryffindors - which meant all of them had conspired in one way or another at some point in the past -  eyes passed over this image without taking any notice of it.

However, the meeting was disturbed when an additional counterpart meandered up to the desk, slid out a chair, then sat down rather clumsily. Namely: Neville Longbottom. 

“Hullo,” this Longbottom said.

Hermione’s hands danced over the parchment nonchalantly and concealed any words that had been previously placed before she replied.

“Hello, Neville.”

Neville looked at them for a few moments, then made a shrugging motion and sighed.

“Just thought I’d ask, since I thought it’s quite a good… and erm, noble idea of yours…” He dared meet their eyes, then blurted it out on one breath. “D’you mind if I join you?”

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. Hermione’s eyebrows shot up.

“Join us?” she repeated, then added, “As in, to sit down?” “Well, yes,” Neville said, probably wondering whether he should back out while he still had the chance. “And no. I just thought… you know…”

“Ah,” Harry said, nodding. “You mean the secret that I told you about this morning.”

Hermione looked at him, slightly agonised, then back at Neville, who looked relieved and was nodding eagerly, then sighed.

“Yes, of course,” she said, then revealed the parchment. “I don’t see why not. But this has to be completely secret.”

Ron snorted and glanced at Harry. “We’re doing a great job of keeping it so far.”

“I reckon we are.” Harry shrugged. “Snape looked like he had no idea what was going on, this morning, didn’t he?”

“It was very fun. I don’t think he was expecting it one bit.” Neville beamed, then adjusted himself on the chair and scooted closer up to the table with it. “So, do you have a name for this?”

Hermione opened her mouth, then frowned. Ron spoke. 

“A name?”

“Yes, for this.” Neville tapped Hermione’s parchment. “It’s like a group, or a society. It should have a name.”

Ron laughed, grinning, then shared a look with Harry. 

“Of course we do,” he said. “It’s called the SNCC.”

Hermione turned to him. “The SNCC?”

“What's SNCC?” Harry asked.

“The Super-Nice-Conspiracy-Club,” Ron said after a short pause, making everyone correctly think that he had just made it up on the spot, then shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, why not.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. 

“I think you mean the Snape’s-Newfound-Contentment-Committee, Ron.”

Ron nodded vigorously and pointed at her. “Precisely what I meant. Write that down, Hermione. It sounds pretty cool.”

Harry and Neville nodded, watching Hermione’s quill move up and down as she started to mutter, quite pleased with herself.

“We ought to make this official,” she was saying, placing dots on the parchment, “I mean, as official as it can get. A meeting once a week… oh, stop moaning Ron, it would only take ten minutes… and I’ll be the secretary. I’ll record these meetings and after a few months, we’ll review what we have achieved.”

“You’re going to be making charts about, what, Snape’s happiness levels?” Harry said - Ron laughed - and furrowed his brows. “Seems quite vague.”

“Or his depression levels if it goes as it currently is,” added Ron.

“True. But how are you going to do that, Hermione?”

“I’ll manage,” Hermione hummed, then placed down her quill and looked at them expectantly. “Since this is our first official meeting, we have very little progress to report and I don’t think we have many ideas, and thus should think of more.”

“Yep,” Neville said. “Perhaps we should make a mindmap.”

“Good idea, except there wouldn’t be much to put on it at the moment,” Harry replied, putting his head on his folded arms.

There was silence as everyone sank into thought.

“This is hard,” Ron sighed after a short moment. “If this was Hagrid, it would be easier. He loves all sorts of tea and biscuits and us coming to visit him, but, well, we don’t really know Snape well enough to come up with anything.”

“I bet the Slytherins do,” Neville muttered, which made Hermione look up at him. 

“Yes, they probably do,” she said, looking thoughtful. “But we’re not on good enough terms with any of them to ask without looking suspicious.”

“And downright bloody weird,” Ron scoffed, shaking his head. “No, better not. Let’s think.”

“Yes, Ron, do some of that for a change,” Hermione murmured, but then they all propped their heads up and frowned.

A few moments passed. A few sparks were set off by the Weasley twins as part of a prank, causing disturbance, but after joining in with the laughter as Lee Jordan tried to put Percy’s robes out of fire, Ron rapped the table, leaned in towards them and spoke.

“What about the house elves?”

“The what?” said Hermione and Harry.

“House elves,” Neville said. “They cook and clean and stuff. We’ve got one. And they’re never seen unless you summon them or seek them out. But what about them?”

“I dunno,” Ron said. “I just thought they could send stuff up or bring stuff down if we asked them.”

There were another few thoughtful nods, then Hermione put her head to the side and went a little pink.

“I think I’ve got an idea…” she began, glancing hesitantly at Ron. “... but, I don’t know…”

“What?” Harry asked.

Hermione pushed her lips out, smoothed her parchment out, then explained.

“If they cook and clean, that means they would be in the kitchens.”

“Yep.”

“And that means they can make drinks. So, I thought, what if they put his favourite drink on his desk in the morning? As in, you know, after breakfast?”

Ron opened his mouth, then thought for a moment and closed it.

“Yeah,” he said, opening it again. “That’s not too bad of an idea. And since they know what disappears on the breakfast table, they’ll know what he chooses to drink most often.”

“Brilliant.” Neville nodded. “That’s a start.”

They watched Hermione writing down the idea, then sank into thought again. This time, Hermione spoke.

“This is definitely for the future,” she said. “But once we… er, finally make friends with him-”

“I really doubt that will ever happen,” Ron interrupted.

“... we could find out what interests him and talk to him about it.”

“Well, he teaches Potions, doesn’t he?” Harry asked.

“Yes, but he must have other interests. One’s hobby doesn’t simply restrict to one’s job. In fact, that’s hardly ever the case.”

“Well, Snape is quite clever,” Neville murmured. “I bet he likes to read.”

“That’s a thought!” Hermione said, then bent down to write. “And it works out, because I like to read too!”

“But we don’t really do much of that,” Ron observed.

“Unless forced,” added Harry, “or if the book is good… D’you reckon he likes Quidditch?”

“He doesn’t look as though he does.”

“Or any other sport for that matter. No, he’s more of an intellectual man… And we’re on opposite teams,” Hermione said. “No, that can only cause conflict. At the moment, anyway.”

“Right,” Ron said. “But I think this is enough to begin with,” he said, peering at what Hermione had written down. We only made the first move today. If we do much more, he’ll get suspicious. And we shouldn’t be so obviously nice, next time.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “It was very fun to watch, but he’ll start to think we’re up to something.”

“Oh! I had a thought last night, but I forgot to mention it,” Hermione said. “To make it seem as though it’s simply a change in circumstance, as opposed to aimed at Snape: we should be just as proper in every other lesson too. I bet the teachers talk in the staff rooms. If Snape hears others talking about how suddenly all of us have matured and understood the importance of rules, and are taking homework seriously-”

“I am not doing double homework for Transfiguration,” Ron declared. “Or any other subject for that matter. Potion’s enough.”

“Alright, you don’t have to do much extra homework,” Hermione relented, obviously thinking that the poor boy wouldn’t be able to manage such a feat. “Just as long as you do it to the best standard.”

“Alright, alright,” Ron rolled his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like a teacher.”

“Anything else?” said Harry, smiling as they argued. “Or is that all?”

“I don’t think there’s anyone else we should be nice to.”

Hermione snorted and looked at them gleefully. “We could be nice to Draco Malfoy.”

All three boys made varying noises of indignance and laughter. Neville smirked. Harry and Ron snorted.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “What a great idea. I know, why don’t we just throw an exclusive Slytherin party while we’re at it?”

“That would definitely be sucking up,” Harry said, making gagging motions. “No, let's just keep to teachers.”

“Yeah,” said Ron. “That’s almost too much anyway.”

“But think about it this way,” Harry said as Hermione rolled up the parchment. “You’d make your mum proud if she found out how responsible you are being, Ronniekins- ow!”

Hermione and Neville got up to go to the library, leaving the squabbling duo behind and Harry massaging his head where Ron had bonked him. And it was only when they climbed through the portrait hole did Hermione lower her voice and say:

“You know, Neville… About those drinks these house-elves are supposed to bring up?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t we ask them to write a positive quote with each one?”

Neville wasn’t quite Harry or Ron, and in his mind the dark Potions Master could do with some more positivity, so he nodded enthusiastically as their steps matched.

“Yeah, why not?” he said. “It cannot possibly do any harm.”

[entomolog-t]

Finding Strength- Chapter 2

Nearly A WHOLE YEAR after the first chapter WE ARE BACK !!

Meet Rose, a varsity athlete who should needs to pay more attention to the concussion safety protocols. Also Grayson (you'll see a lot more of him eventually)

- - - -

Next Chapter: Chapter 3

Word count: 2160

CW: Adult language

Rose smiles. She smiles as the sweat beads that slick her brow drip into her eyes. She smiles as her limbs grow heavy, arms burning and near useless. She even, to the displeasure of her teammate, smiles as she drills. Her grin an ever present, and rather unnerving, fixture on her face as the duo works their way through their umpteenth repetition of speed drills. 

Through gritted teeth Grayson Wilder manages to hiss out a quick knock-it-off before being met her forehead ramming square into his gut as she shoots yet another blast double. As her she makes contact, Grayson is swiftly reminded why pre practice Mcdonalds was a terrible idea. 

Who even drills blast doubles during speed drills anyways? 

As Rose plows through the take down, Grayson uses the brunt of his mental fortitude to curse their coach for having dared to suggest that doing some extra drilling with Rose would be light go’s for him- that, and to keep his meal firmly where it belonged. 

Grayson lands with a grunt, and Rose takes the time to give him a sympathetic look before the two hustle back to standing, only to repeat the whole process again.

And again.

And again.

And- 

The sound of the score clock's buzzer could have been a choir of angels to either athlete at this point. Sweaty, drained and sore, Rose sighs- not from fatigue, but instead satisfaction. There was a buzzing in her arms, shaky and electric with that telltale combination of adrenaline and exertion. Speed drills objectively sucked. Getting stuck with one of the 90 kilo men for a partner sucked even more. But losing her shot to go to Nationals last season has sucked the most. This season would be great- even if that meant she would have to favor the monotony of drilling rather than the excitement of scrimmage.

Think big. Rose grins, testing the sound of her new little mantra in her head. First early birds, then provincials then-

“Rose!”

Her thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a shout from her coach. Hank Miller beckons her over, a cheeky smile on his face as she jogs towards him.

“Another double and Grayson looked about ready to turn Green… son.”

Rose wishes she has the self control to groan, but instead, she laughs. 

“Think he’s McLovin it?”

“He’ll be McLoving his sauna suit, that's for sure.” Hank shakes his head. With sigh he hands her a packet. Though as Rose grabs it, Hank doesn't let go. Eyebrows raised expectantly, his smile is replaced by a more stern expression. 

“Filled out by Monday, got it?” 

Rose rolls her eyes, but Hank’s grip remains firm.

“Don't lose it.” 

In a feat of self control that could rival that of monks, Rose resists the urge to inform Hank that it's not impossible to print another copy. Though in fairness, with his downright cretaceous tech literacy, there were good odds that for him, it may in fact be impossible.

“Yes, Mom.”  Finally, he relinquishes the thick stack of redundancy forms. With the packet in tow, Rose makes a B-line for her water bottle. Quick drink, stretches… maybe some footspeed drills? The thought of managing to get her legs to move with the growing weight of fatigue and lactic acid setting in was far from appealing, and there was also the weight of impending assignment deadlines to consider…

It should be a felony to have assignments due the first week of the school year...

With a groan, Rose downs her water as she meanders back on the mat to start her stretches, the cool water an oasis in the mugginess of the wrestling room. Though, the coolness of the water does nothing to hide the red hot glare she can feel burning a hole into the back of her head. A quick glance behind her reveals Hank, with a frustratingly smug pair of raised eyebrows as he casts a nod toward her packet; left abandoned on the sidelines.

With all the subtlety of an air horn at a funeral, Rose makes a show of bringing the oh-so-precious forms to her bag, grin smeared across her face as she plays up her exasperation. She can hear Hank laughing behind her, along with another “Monday” for good measure. 

Looking over her shoulder Rose makes sure to shoot him a glare of her own as she shoves the papers into the front pocket of her-

A scream.

Head on a swivel, Rose's eyes immediately lock onto the source-  a strained yelp escaping her as the sight sends her sprawling back. Her mind races, fumbling as it strains to make sense of what she was almost certain could not have been in her bag. 

“...You good?” Hank’s voice feels like a lifeline back to reality, reeling Rose in from her shock. 

“Uhh y-yeah, no. I'm good.” She lies,  “Just, uh, papercut.”

Rose didn’t move. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if she had been breathing. She was frozen- feeling as if even a blink would dispel the almost certainly not real reality that stared back at her.

There's…. There's a man- A very small man- in my bag.

Rose swallows nervously. Had she hit her head and not realized? Grayson had made her eat mat on at least one failed attempt at a leg shot… Could concussions cause hallucinations? 

There's a tiny man in my bag.

They definitely could, right? Rose couldn’t help but notice the irony that she couldn’t remember the stupid Safe Sport Concussion Awareness presentation. What was more concerning?  Hallucinations from a grade 2 concussion, or finding a tiny man in her bag?

Rose blinked.

There's still a tiny man in my bag.

In a far away reality, she hears the muffled voice of Hank asking if she's sure she's alright. 

Rose hurriedly gathers up her bag at his approach.

“I’m good. Totally good. I… I uh… gotta go.”

_   _   _

Those few stuttered words were all the warning Tamius had before he was flung backwards as the bag was torn from the ground. 

A plan- he needed a plan. Anything- 

Instead, Tamius was met by sheer chaos. His word topples over itself, rising and falling and sending him careening into the wall of fabric. A horrible realization dawns on him.

She’s running. 

Dread seemed to be the only thing anchoring him to reality as Tamius remained a victim to gravity’s indecisiveness. 

He’d been caught. 

That behemoth idiot had fucking caught him- Tamius grit his teeth.

No. Not yet. 

White knuckled, Tamuis clung to the fabric of the bag. His eyes desperately scanning in the low light for the hole he’d cut.  If he could make it back into the larger compartment he could buy himself some time taking cover in her clothes- there’d be an opportunity for escape. He was sure there would be. He’d make one.

In a mix of determination and desperation, Tamius fights against the rhythmic lurching, an awful feeling of vertigo boring down on him as his hands scramble for new grips, something- anything- to pull him closer to that fucking hole. 

A lock clicked. 

The sound slicing through him-  an executioner's bell condemning him to his fate.  

No, no, no- not yet! 

The stillness that followed was truly terrifying, a contagious beast freezing him, and time itself, in place. Reality itself seemed to hold a change, like the feeling before a storm- his muscles tense, and hair standing on its end, as if current was running through him. It was an electric sort of dread- a missed step, an object about to fall, the moment before impact- 

No.

The impact came in the form of five grotesquely large fingers diving into the pocket, looking far more like a Hellish mass of writhing limbs than the hands he was familiar with.

Every ounce of his being screamed- all thoughts coalescing to one;

Get to the rip.

In that moment, Tamius was not a man. He was not a being of higher intelligence. In that moment he felt no soul, no empathy, no love. He was a desperate animal scrambling towards a corner. There was no safety waiting for him just beyond the rip. All that waited behind the fabric were a few extra tortured seconds of delusion. A few painful moments where he could pretend he could reason his way out of this and avoid the reality barreling down on him in the form of five gruesome fingers. 

Though reality, it seemed, had other plans.

That gargantuan fucking idiot. 

The fingers coiled around him, engulfing Tamius in their impossible mass. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, echoed by that of the flesh pulsing around him- the feeling so deeply sickening he could taste bile on his tongue. Tamuis’ stomach lurches as he’s dragged out, hands grasping pointlessly for anything as he's brought forth in front of a sickeningly familiar face.  

He wanted to scream. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to kick, and bite and scratch until she had to let him go. He wanted so desperately to be the cause of even the smallest amount of pain. Anything to wipe that ridiculous awestruck stare off of her stupid face. Anything to pretend like there was something he could do to change the outcome.

But Tamius The Bestoyed,  was a man far too smart for his own good. Cursed with reason, he was granted no security in ignorance. Pride was reserved for those who could delude themselves into believing they were in control. Much to his horror, Tamius knew better. 

He’d been caught. 

Trapped in the fist of a colossus, Tamius swallowed his pride. Tamius was a man of intellect and reason. So he did what any man with intellect and reason would do. 

He begged. 

“Please.” His voice shook, thick with fear and desperation as garbled pleas spilled forth like a river in spring. The knowledge he so prided himself with failed him, his words a stunted mess of gasping pleases and begging to be let go. 

Her brow furrows. 

“Pl-please.” Despite himself, Tamius uselessly strained against her fingers, wracking his brain anything he could say. Her eyes, wide and gray, were locked onto him. 

Gray. 

Gray like foreboding skies. Gray like- 

She sucks in a breath, her eyes widening as some sort of thought passes through the near impenetrable density of her gargantuanly thick skull. For a moment, her mouth hangs agape- a look of confusion crossing her face as she takes her time forming a thought. 

“... Why are you crying?” 

Of all the things she could have said, Tamius had not been anticipating this.

What?

As if experiencing sympathy stupidity, his own mind goes blank, struggling to keep pace with her words. Was he? His face felt wet. 

Wait- what did she mean why? How stupid could she be- As if she wasn’t obviously the reason!  

Tamius wants to say something, but calling out her oblivious stupidity was out of the question. Before he’s able to gather his words, her hand opens up. No longer restrained in her grip, Tamius, completely and totally dumbstruck, finds himself sitting splayed out in her much too warm cupped hand. 

He’s hit with an onslaught of thoughts, as he rapidly begins reformulating any semblance of a plan.

Could he jump? Run? Where was he? Could he fit under the door? How would he get home-   

“Did I …” His thoughts are immediately silenced as she addresses him again, “... hurt you?” 

Her words catch him off guard, but not nearly as much as her expression. Concern. Embarrassment? She seemed horrified at the thought, her grey eyes scrutinizing him for any sign of injury in a way that bordered on violating. 

Too close- too much. 

Unable to find his voice, Tamius shakes his head, scrambling back as much as the limited surface of her hands would allow. The massive, and now that he had the chance to get a good look at her, very sweaty woman eyed him curiously. She thinks for a moment, brow furrowed as the act of thinking clearly was not something in which she was well practiced.

“How did you get so small?”

What? Get? 

His own expression mirrors hers, brow furrowing as realization dawns on him. 

This idiot Gargo thinks I’ve shrunk… 

If he wasn’t so terrified he would have scoffed. It would be his luck that he managed to have encountered the most gullible specimen of humanity imaginable. As if people just go around shrinking- wait. 

People.

She thinks I’m human.

His hands rush to his ears, relief washing over him as he feels his hair, mussed just enough from this whole ordeal to have covered their not quite human shape. This… this could work. Despite the way his hands shook, despite the way his heart pounded in his chest, despite the way this was far beyond the bounds of a worst case scenario, a wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

What an idiot.

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

She NEVER disappoints!! MAUREEN CALLAHAN: "I demanded doddery Biden get off his sun lounger and go to Hawaii. But after THAT shambolic visit, I take it all back... The people of Maui have suffered enough."

Biden interrupted his Lake Tahoe vacation on Monday to fly five (5) hours to the island, and insist that the federal government was there for the islanders, despite the announcement of the paltry sum of $700 compensation for each household. 

By Maureen Callahan 22 Aug 2023

We all called for the President last week. Where was he, days after the apocalyptic Maui wildfires?

Actually, we knew where he was: On the beach at his shore home in Delaware. Prepping for his next vacation in Lake Tahoe. Issuing a reptilian ‘no comment’ when asked about the thousand-plus people missing and the Pompeii-like damage and what his plan was.

When was he going to visit?

For what it’s worth, I wrote an impassioned column imploring the president to go.

Now I take it all back. The people of Maui have suffered enough.

Joe Biden finally saw fit to interrupt his second vacation since the wildfires, to don his well-worn mantle as Empathizer-in-Chief, put his feet on the ground in Hawaii and comfort the survivors, 13 days after the fires.

It did not go well.

‘F**k you!’ was the prevailing greeting to his motorcade. Residents held unwelcoming signs: ‘It’s too late’. ‘Actions speak louder than words’.

Right they are.

We all called for the President last week. Where was he, days after the apocalyptic Maui wildfires? I wrote an impassioned column imploring the president to go. Now I take it all back. The people of Maui have suffered enough.

Joe Biden finally saw fit to interrupt his second vacation since the wildfires, to don his well-worn mantle as Empathizer-in-Chief and comfort the survivors, 13 days after the fires. It did not go well. ‘F**k you!’ was the prevailing greeting to his motorcade.

Yet Joe Biden was not humbled. Joe Biden doesn’t know shame. Instead he gave a meandering speech invoking, yet again, his own tragedies, dosed as usual with a soupçon of exaggeration.

‘I don’t want to compare difficulties,’ he said. Spoiler alert: He compared difficulties.

Once upon a time, he and Jill had suffered a kitchen fire while he was off doing a glamorous TV spot on ‘Meet the Press’. He almost lost his classic Corvette! Parked at his waterfront house!

Would the people of Maui, living through the agonies of entire families burned to ashes in their homes, of a 14-year-old boy’s body discovered alone and clutching his dead dog, care to hear those details?

‘It was a sunny Sunday,’ Biden said — oh my God, is there no one in this White House who can keep this president on-message? — ‘and lightning struck at home on a little lake that’s outside of our home — not a lake, a big pond — and hit a wire and came up underneath our home into our heating ducts, the air conditioning ducts.

‘To make a long story short, I almost lost my wife, my ’67 Corvette, and my cat. But all kidding aside’ — there’s a joke in here? — ‘I watched the firefighters, the way they responded… they ran into flames to save my wife and save my family… sometimes smoke is so thick… it was that thick inside the home.’

Not so, said the firefighters who responded. The Biden kitchen fire, according to the Cranston Heights Fire Company, was ‘insignificant’ and put out in just 20 minutes.

But hey — Joe Biden never lets facts get in the way of a good story. And no one’s suffering can ever compare to his own.

His speech to the people of Maui was disgusting. It was all about him. Note this line: 'I give you my word, as a Biden.'

As a Biden? How about as President of the United States?

He had such a low bar to clear: Get on the ground, shake hands and offer hugs, look survivors in the eye and listen to their stories, and offer a clear plan of action.

All he had to do was deliver a brief, locked-and-loaded speech and cede the stage to local heroes — take a page from George W. Bush’s promise on the World Trade Center pile after 9/11.

But he can’t do it. Joe Biden is fundamentally, constitutionally incapable of allowing others their grief. He literally claimed that he had ‘a similar experience’ to the Maui survivors.

Protestors greet Biden with 'f**k you' as he arrives in Maui

He had such a low bar to clear: Get on the ground, shake hands, offer hugs - and a clear plan of action. But he can’t do it. Joe Biden is fundamentally, constitutionally incapable of allowing others their grief. (Pictured: Flames devastate Lahaina, Hawaii, earlier this month).

‘By the way,’ he continued, ‘for 36 years I was listed as the poorest man in Congress, so I didn’t get there based on my income.’

Can you believe that was part of his speech to the survivors? How is it germane? Remotely relevant? Does Biden really want to invoke his family’s suspicious riches?

To quote Barack Obama: ‘Don’t underestimate Joe’s ability to f**k things up.’

Biden went on to perseverate over the loss of his first wife and infant daughter in a car crash — a tragedy he blamed on the other driver, who Biden infamously falsely accused of being drunk.

‘So, I have a little bit of sense of what it’s like.’

No, Mr. President, you do not.

It was the same when he met with Gold Star families whose loved ones died in his botched Afghanistan withdrawal, repeatedly invoking his late son Beau, who he often claims died in Iraq. (Beau died of a brain tumor.)

It was the same when he was caught checking his watch every single time one of those 13 flag-draped caskets were loaded off military planes at Dover.

‘The most disrespectful thing I’ve ever seen,’ said Darin Hoover, father of fallen Marine Staff Sgt. Taylor Hoover. ‘They would release the salute and he looked down at his watch on every last one. All 13, he looked down at his watch.’

So now I know: Joe Biden should have stayed away from Maui. He should have sent thoughts and prayers and far more than a $700 check to each surviving family. He should have begged Barack Obama or another esteemed Hawaiian to go.

The Rock would have done better. Jason Momoa. Hell, anyone but tone-deaf, crusty old Joe.

Looking at a canine rescue and recovery dog with protective paw gear, Biden ‘joked’ to the press: ‘You guys catch the boots out here? That’s some hot ground, man.’

Ugh, that ‘man’. Joe’s such a cool cat, don’t you know, just one of us. Amtrak Joe. Watch out: He might beat you up in the parking lot after fourth period. Remember ‘CornPop’? The gang leader with a razor blade at the community pool back in 1962? The 'bad dude' Joe Biden beat back with a 6ft-long chain?

Joe Biden, pathological fabulist, national embarrassment.

He should have stayed away from Maui. He should have sent thoughts and prayers and far more than a $700 check to each surviving family. He should have begged Barack Obama or another esteemed Hawaiian to go. The Rock would have done better. Hell, anyone but tone-deaf, crusty old Joe. (Pictured: Joe and Jill on the beach in Delaware earlier this month).

Those canines, by the way, have only been able to work in short shifts because the ground in Lahaina remains sizzling hot. That’s cause for alarm, not a comedy bit.

How about that climate crisis, Mr. President?

Speaking of — please, for the love of all that is sacred, stay away from Palm Springs and Los Angeles and any future disaster areas in general. The American people don’t need to see their doddering, likely demented president wandering away from a podium, mouth slack and eyes vacant, needing to be guided, as we witnessed on Monday.

This sad showing is a microcosm of the Biden presidency: No one’s at the wheel. The whole world can see it. Is this who the Dems really want to prop up in 2024?

And where’s Jill Biden in all of this? Most wives would gently take their husband by the hand and say: ‘Time’s up. You did your best, but it’s time to leave.’

Most wives would want to protect what’s left of their husband’s dignity. Legacy.

Not so for the Bidens, now safely ensconced in an $18 million vacation home, out of sight.

Awkward moment gormless-looking Biden shuffles away from lectern as Hawaii Democrat tries to speak to him minutes after giving tone-deaf speech to victims of Maui's killer wildfires

Gormless-looking Biden shuffles away from lectern in Hawaii

By David AverreUpdated 07:30 EDT 22 Aug 2023

Biden had a cringeworthy moment with Democrat Hawaii Sen. Brian Schatz

President Joe Biden compounded his disastrous trip to Hawaii in the wake of devastating wildfires with yet another gaffe, blatantly ignoring a Democrat senator before gormlessly shuffling off at the end of an uninspiring speech yesterday.

The 80-year-old had a particularly awkward moment with Democratic Hawaii Sen. Brian Schatz when, at the conclusion of a press conference, Schatz offered him a sip of water.

Biden completely blanked the senator and turned his back on him. He then began shuffling off, mouth hanging open and gazing listlessly into the crowd, while his wife Jill and Hawaii Governor Josh Green ushered him away from the lectern.

Furious Hawaiians had already greeted the President with ire, shouting 'f*** you' at his motorcade and brandishing signs telling him to go home as the 80-year-old and his wife toured the island of Maui 13 days after the inferno broke out.

The awkward scene came shortly after Biden had delivered a meandering, tone-deaf speech in which he compared the wildfires - which have killed at least 114 people and left 850 missing - to his experience of a small kitchen fire.

Gormless-looking Biden shuffles away from lectern after speech

Biden had a particularly awkward moment with Democratic Hawaii Sen. Brian Schatz when, a t the conclusion of a press conference, Schatz offered a sip of water to Biden and gestured beside the lectern at a bottle of water

The President completely blanked the senator and turned his back on him. He then began shuffling off

His wife Jill and Hawaii Governor Josh Green ushered him away from the lectern

President Biden told Maui the nation 'grieves with you' in his first visit to the island since wildfires ravaged the city of Lahaina and the surrounding community

Biden and first lady Jill Biden look at a burned car with Hawaii Gov. Josh Green and his wife Jaime Green as they visit areas devastated by the Maui wildfires

People watch as the motorcade carrying President Joe Biden to visit areas devastated by the Maui wildfires passes by. One local gives the president a thumbs down

Furious Maui residents slam Biden before tour of Lahaina

Biden rental at Tom Steyer's $18MILLION home may breach housing code

Biden is back in Lake Tahoe mansion after his awkward Hawaii visit

The President and his wife were not greeted warmly by residents of Hawaii yesterday.

As their motorcade drove through Maui, several people lined the streets waving Trump 2024 flags and shouting obscenities at the passing cars.

One person brandished a sign contrasting the money spent on Ukraine with the assistance sent to Hawaii - calculating that each Ukrainian has received over $1,700 since the war broke out in February 2022.

Meanwhile, the White House announced that each affected household in Hawaii will receive $700 - a sum many islanders considered insulting.

Locals' fury mounted on Sunday when Biden, who was asked about the fires as he relaxed on a Delaware beach, simply replied: 'No comment.' 🤡

And last week, he appeared to forget the name of Maui, repeatedly referring to fires blazing on 'the Big Island'.

Biden interrupted his Lake Tahoe vacation on Monday to fly five hours to the island, and insist that the federal government was there for the islanders, despite the announcement of the paltry sum of compensation for each household. 

Even Democrats were demanding to know why the federal aid had been slow to arrive and so meagre, joining their Republican colleagues in questioning Biden's delay in arriving in Maui.

The death toll in Maui has topped 114, with some 850 people still missing feared dead.

But Biden waited 13 days since the outbreak of the fires to visit the island. 

Biden embraced with Hawaii Gov. Josh Green

[theangrycomet]

black and white 3: gear station

If Gamefreak makes the inevitable Black and White remake another sequel (like honestly all the others should have been) than I think the best way to address the Ingo situation would be for the Player to have almost no involvement at all.

Have it be a background thing when the Player first makes it to Nimbasa City the Battle Subway is temporarily closed due to… circumstances with the Bosses’ pokemon.

Elesa’s not at her Gym because she’s helping Emmet grab all of Ingo’s pokemon, as they are scattered around the city looking for their Trainer. Have some of the residents trying to guid them back, making comments that this has been the regular occurrence for almost a year now.

Have it where the Player finds a Chandelure approach them, when they enter the city, and end up following them around as they make it to the battle Subway. Then you have to help gather the rest before Elesa can return to her gym and Emmet, Gear Station. This is how you get a Unlimited Subway Pass (as a token of thanks from Emmet) that grants you full access to Gear Station (to the places you already have been like the ride pokemon/flying taxi)

The Battle Subway is then reopened, but you can only do the Singles Monday/Wednesday/Friday and the Doubles Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday or whatever since there is only 1 Subway boss to run the both lines at the moment.

Postgame, the Singles and Doubles lines are available no matter the day of the week, as Ingo has inexplicably returned, with a whole new set of pokemon to boot.

Lady Sneasler can be found as a Challenger on the singles line or meandering Gear Station, depending on the time of day. If you beat her and Ingo X amount of it would trigger a cut scene where she, with some translation on Ingo’s part, gifts the player an Egg, with Ingo making a comment that the Player reminds him of a bit of a trainer he new from where he was before.

[kitteneddiediaz]

44. “does that turn you on?”

Hi Tanis!! Here's something silly goofy for you on this sweltering Monday I know you're having <3

Slight NSFW below the cut

Eddie's on the couch when Buck walks through the door. He opted not to go to the store with Buck, still pretty sleepy from a late night with Karen, Linda, and Maddie sharing wine and gossip. But, he did manage to get out of bed about 10 minutes ago, even if it was to go lay down in the living room instead. He sits up when Buck walks through the door, watching him hold 4 grocery bags in each hand.

"Hey, sweetheart!" Buck exclaims as he kicks the door closed behind him. It disrupts the gentle quietness of the house that Eddie was basking in, and he grunts at Buck, resting his chin on the back of the couch. It makes Buck chuckle as he walks past the couch towards the kitchen.

"Do you need help? That looks heavy." Eddie says.

Buck turns just before he walks past the threshold into the kitchen. "What? These?" He asks.

Eddie nods, and then two seconds later is already gearing up to roll his eyes because he can see the way Buck puffs out his chest a little bit and flashes that cocky grin at him.

"No, I don't need help." He says, putting weird emphasis on the syllables of each word. He starts lifting each handful of groceries like he's doing bicep curls, grunting at Eddie with each repetition.

Eddie can't held but smile, even though he really doesn't want to. Because his boyfriend is a dork, and it's really ruining this whole 'dark and brooding' persona he tries so valiantly to portray.

"Does this turn you on?" Buck asks, still doing bicep curls with the grocery bags and making a ridiculous smouldering face at Eddie.

He can't help but giggle that a little, reduced so a blushing schoolgirl every time Buck turns his charm on towards him.

"Not even a little." Eddie says laughing.

"Huh." Buck says, tilting his head a little and raising his eyebrows at Eddie. "M'kay."

Eddie gets up from the couch then to follow Buck into the kitchen, drawn like a magnet to Buck's radiance. He doesn't help with the groceries though, even though he offered to. Sitting on the counter instead to watch Buck put the cream cheese and lemonade in the fridge, the bacon and popsicles in the freezer.

It's only a minute before he's done, and then Buck is turning his attention to Eddie, meandering forward to slot himself between Eddie's spread legs where he sits on their kitchen counter.

Buck runs his hands up Eddie's thighs, diving right in to kiss along his jaw.

"Mmm, you smell good." Eddie whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's... kinda turning me on."

Buck laughs, bright and happy. "Oh, but me showing off my impressive arms didn't do anything for you earlier? Pretty messed up, Diaz," he says, sliding his hands underneath Eddie's thighs to pull him forward up and off the counter.

Eddie goes happily, carried back to the bedroom and laid down on the bed, stripped of his clothes. Buck worships his skin, drawing moans and sighs and giggles out of Eddie's chest with his tongue and fingers.

Twenty minutes later, when Eddie has his head resting on Buck's chest, tracing patterns into the soft skin and light dusting of hair there, Buck chuckles a little, turning to look at his partner.

"I bought you flowers. I forgot them in the car. The flower stand at the farmer's market had lilacs."

Eddie hums. "Well, you and your big strong arms better go get them before they dry-out."

Buck huffs a laugh, rolling out from under Eddie and off the bed to restart his day, Eddie following happily behind.

[marblerose-rue]

this isn't art block but WHAT is it called when ur consistently not satisfied w what youve drawn . /LH

[spontaneousmusicalnumber]

The Wasp Saga, or, How I Wasted Half my Lunch Break

(Note: If you are rude about wasps on this post you will be blocked. We respect them as important ecosystem members here.)

Yesterday it was super warm, like three months out of season warm, and in order to stave off the climate anxiety I decided to walk to the corner grocery store for lunch, eat outside, and get some rare February vitamin D. In a rare W the grocery counter Chinese food was freshly made, way better quality than usual, and ON SALE so I was riding that high. I ate, I enjoyed the weather. As I was starting to consider saving the rest for the next day's lunch a wasp buzzed up to me and landed. on my leg.

Now one thing about me is that I am trying very hard to overcome a crippling phobia of bees and wasps. From when I was a child through my early 20's I was frequently trapped inside or outside buildings because a wasp was hanging out near the door frame and I would refuse to go within 20 feet of it. Please read the following as if it required the courage of a knight and the patience of a saint.

This wasp was likely a queen that had woken up from hibernation a couple months early and was looking for a place to build a new hive. I respect wasps as important members of the ecosystem despite my deep seated fear and did not wish to kill her. She was the least flappable, most chill wasp I have ever encountered. This worked against me.

You see, she was quite happy to be on my leg. Started meandering down my khakis towards my shoe as if she didn't have a care in the world. As if I wasn't shaking my leg, walking around, stomping my foot, jerking back and forth, and jumping up and down to try and dislodge her. Eventually she walked onto my shoe and I did NOT want her do decide the inside of my pants was an attractive option here. So I bent down and blew on her, which finally bothered her enough to get off this ride. She buzzed away and landed.

On the edge of my lunch.

Now if this were any other day, I might have let her have it. Being on the wrong side of an angry wasp is not pleasant. But today the chinese food was good, and I wanted those leftovers as much as she did. So I decided to fight for it.

Let me set the scene: I am sitting on a concrete ledge, about knee-high. My lunch is inside a container, and the container is still nestled in the plastic bag from the grocery store. The container has a lid, which I managed to get over the food before the wasp could climb onto it. The wasp was on the plastic container, somewhat nestled inside the plastic bag.

Now if this wasp was content on my leg, she was downright ecstatic here on my lunch. She has just discovered a heaven of meat and fat and sugar. Her daughters will feast their whole lifetimes. She is not letting go.

I am trying to figure out how to bother this blissed-out wasp enough that she decides to abandon this nirvana, but not enough for her to decide I am a threat that must be eliminated. The next few minutes are spent nudging and prodding and shifting the container. Not a move. I move the bag. She folds up her wings. I blow on her. Frequently, often, from multiple angles. She's not falling for that trick again.

I try to nudge her off with a fork. Twice. She doesn't even move a leg, just sways sideways. I decide to take more drastic measures. I get up on the seat, take off my overshirt, and gently start flailing it at the bag, hoping to brush her off or make her think she's being swatted.

At this point a dog walker comes by and notices me standing up on a concrete wall, gingerly flapping my henley at a Monday orange chicken special. "Wasp stole my lunch," I explain. She sympathizes and moves on. I realize the wasp also stole my dignity a long while ago.

A gust of wind hits and the wasp seeks shelter under the lip of the container. My lunch break is very nearly over. I seriously begin to consider that I may lose. I realize that leaving my lunch here would be littering, and wildly against my morals. I press on.

I pick up the container out of the bag, wasp and all. I swing it left and right. I shake it up and down. She doesn't even care. I seriously wonder if I should just bring her inside and go about my day. Maybe if I put her in the fridge she would get sleepy enough to capture and release. Or maybe I'd be the idiot who let a wasp loose in the building because they brought it inside on purpose. It's a long walk from the door to the fridge.

I get to the door. Now or never. One last idea. I drop it a few inches. This is the move: Precisely enough to make her lose her grip on the container. My last view of her is on her back, wings not even buzzing, legs flailing as she tries to stand up. I snatch what is now mine by right of combat and flee indoors.

It was 76 degrees that day, yesterday afternoon. Tonight it will get down to 12. That's a normal temperature for February. She should not have been awake yet. I hope that despite all the grief and indignity she caused me, that she found somewhere safe and warm to hide, and that she finds somewhere just as good as my container of chinese food to build a nest.

[pennyserenade]

the devil hath power

part two: the game

pairing: coriolanus snow x f!reader, coriolanus snow x you, coriolanus snow x nameless reader (no use of y/n) rating: m (mature, 18+) tags/warnings: talk of suicide, talk of death, talk of sex work, classism, a little bit of power play, power imbalance, food mention, alcohol mention, tigris snow cameo <3 word count: 3.6k+ summary: Coriolanus and his 'friend' begin to play a game neither of them are prepared to lose. a/n: the link to part one of this story can be found here (tumblr) or here (ao3). part three of this will follow very quickly after this one - maybe a day or two later - i promise. i've written a good chunk of it, as i intended to post this all one part, but it became much too lengthy. also, if you want to be tagged in the next part of this - or other stories like it - you can sign up to my taglist here or follow my updates blog @belovedinfidels and turn on the post notifications. thank you a ton for all your support and love. it's been lots of fun interacting with you all and writing for this fandom.

part one | part three

The money for what had conspired between her and Coriolanus came quickly, as he had promised it would. In the early hours of the next day a nondescript envelope, along with a sizable clothing bag, was delivered to her door by a nameless Avox. The amount was far more than she would’ve charged him, and yet not enough (as it always seemed to be).

However, it was the contents of the clothing bag that surprised her most of all. When she opened it she found a finely made pantsuit, feminine in its cut but masculine in its style, with wide shoulders and flared pant legs, but a more tapered, closely fitted waist. The fabric was not inexpensive either; it was a costly wool in a light burgundy shade, not unlike the color he had worn when he’d approached her in the club. She ran her fingers beneath the peaked lapels, admiring the work of what must’ve been his in-house tailor.

Though she enjoyed this gift—it was far more expensive than anything she’d purchased for herself in years—she did not feel particularly warm nor grateful towards its giver. She took the suit and hung it in the closet of the main bedroom, where she kept all her finest items, and did not think about it again until the next week.

To say Coriolanus filled her thoughts during this time would be a lie; he slipped in occasionally as she conducted business, but did not remain for more than a moment. Young men, with their heads full of ambition and tongues thick with Capital accents, brought her back to moments in that darkened bedroom, watching Coriolanus’ pupils blow wide, his lips twitching, his voice lower. The earnest clatter of teeth provided by Monday’s man reminded her of Coriolanus’ bruising intensity. The cool touch of Thursday’s regular brought her back to Coriolanus’ fingers beneath her chin. Saturday’s newcomer had blue eyes, which were infinitely kinder and much more open than Coriolanus’, but still filled her with a wave of repulsion. But it was nothing, harmless meanderings to make the time pass.

The only time she truly allowed him to invade her truly invade her thoughts was the following Sunday. The same Avox that had delivered the suit and the money returned with another envelope. Whereas the previous one had been free of design, of name, of anything that could mark it back to Coriolanus, this one bore all the signs of him, from the golden rose seal to the loopy script that read out his name.

The Avox stood at her door, staring down at the envelope in her hands with some urgency. She got the hint, opening it up without her usual regard for its design. Quickly her eyes scanned over the contents. She frowned softly; he was inviting her to a soirée at his apartment, asking if she would so kindly RSVP or decline and then send it back immediately. The date was not far away—only two short days. This, the invitation implored, was why the RVSP - or the decline - was so urgently needed.

Of course, she checked yes. How could she not? The previous envelope was evidence enough that Coriolanus followed through more than enough in terms of money, and wasn’t that all that mattered? When she handed Avox the invitation, the woman handed her another envelope. This time she did not stick around to watch her open it.

When the Avox left she sat down at her kitchen table, putting the envelope in front of her. Somehow she knew that whatever was inside its folds would impact her life in a way so few things had, and she was not yet prepared for it. Her eyes trailed over the details of the room, focused on the dampened quiet, the emptiness that lay in the elongated dining table with no guests to fill it.

As a child she had loved this room, perhaps more than any other, for it was a basin of social activity. Her mother had been a lively host and her father a jovial one at the head of the table. Wine had flown freely and their plates had been filled with food they had not known to appreciate but in retrospect. There had been nights when the guests got so drunk and so merry, and they found her innocence and her childishness compelling, cooing as she weaved her little body through their legs beneath the table. In the next room there used to be a grand piano on which she would sit with her mother after dinner concluded, and listen to her sing to the guests. Her father, a typically stoic man, would slouch against the piano and look at her mother and herself with a fondness she would never forget. How beautiful love feels when it's all gone, dried up except for the aching ghost of it rattling in the bones of a once beautiful home.

The truth of it was that her parents were dead and this home was all she had. When Coriolanus called it a museum, he wasn’t too far off. Not much had changed since her mother had died. So much had been taken before, as the Dark Days reached their peak and the hunger became unbearable. Everyone who had been beautiful and lively at those dinner parties became hollow, and thin, including her parents. It was her father who died first, but when he went it was as if her mother had died, too – it only took a little longer. Seconds, days, weeks, a total of two years until it was truly over.

It was a frightening thing to witness as a child, the destruction of something as sure and sturdy as one’s mother. She had not been told of the gruesome demise of her father, only that it had been attributed to the war. It was only later that she would find out that he had died by his own hand, that he had left what little funds they had with her mother, found an empty home, and did away with himself. His death had affected her but none so much as her mother’s had. She had to become a spectator of her mother’s failing health, watched as the rot of it filled their home, and sat idly beside her bed as it consumed her completely. Death was not delicate, not kind, not to her parents.

A better woman would’ve left this home behind as soon as she’d gotten enough funds to free herself from it, but she could not seem to. Somehow living in it felt like the greatest vengeance - or revenge, depending on the day - for her parents. Everything she did was to better this home, to restore it to the beauty she had witnessed in her once-grand childhood. That’s why the envelope was so daunting; she knew that whatever Coriolanus wrote her, even if it was inconsequential, would somehow tie to this dream. He was money and money was everything, the single stepping stone to life.

She took her time when it came to opening it, first finding a gold letter opener in the haunts of her father’s old office. The envelope was not thin but it was easy to open with the knife; she cut smoothly beneath the seal and peeled back the lip, running her fingers over the rose details that sat on the outside. She could see through the back of the folded paper that it was a letter, handwritten.

Everything is about winning, the letter began, but you know that, don’t you? I think you can see that I am not a man of unfulfilled promises now and you’re taking a step in the right direction – as any smart girl would. On the night of the party, I will send a car for you – the weather’s been rather cool for a walk – and it will take you to my apartment. Whether you choose to wear the clothing I sent is up to you, but I will say to you that the designer of the suit will be there, and she is very eager to meet you. Don’t fret too awfully much about keeping up with your appearances; it will be a small gathering, full of like-minded individuals such as yourself. They may ask what you do for a living and you may divulge the truth to them if you wish. I think I am no more ashamed of you than you are of me – what a thrilling dynamic we have.

Until then, Coriolanus Snow.

The letter remained open on the table until the night of the party. It was a reminder that she was a player in a game of her own making, but that she needed to tread carefully, lest it slip through her fingers.

She knew she could not afford to lose this; it meant far too much now that this kind of money had entered the equation.

— Even Coriolanus’ building gave the air of being self-important, large and foreboding.

Before she stepped out of the driver’s car and onto the sidewalk before the opulent apartment, she first took a wary glance upwards. The sky was a flurry of white, but even through the thicket of snow she could see the bright lights of the apartments shining ominously above her.

Her mind had been churning over the possible outcomes of this party all day. She had poured over his letter and dissected it until the individual words meant nothing and everything all at once. What she kept coming back to was the line about her occupation—how it meant very little to him whether she told the guests she was a prostitute or not. If she knew Coriolanus’ type the way she thought she did, she knew that her occupation would be of some worry to his acquaintances. Had he written that to throw her off? To make her embarrass herself the way she had him? If so, he’d have to work harder than that. She wrapped her black coat more tightly around herself and mounted the stone steps. Exhaling a deep sigh, she braced herself for whatever could come of this night.

The doorman greeted her with a curt nod as he opened the door for her. The lobby was an enormous space, full of stone columns and large potted trees. She admired the high ceilings and beautiful hanging chandeliers before another man, dressed smartly in a tuxedo and red bow tie, escorted her in the direction of the stairs. She wanted to request a walk up the large staircase but thought better of it. Now was no time to gawk over the fine housing of one of her clients. Because that’s what Coriolanus was: a client.

The elevator ride up did little to prepare her for what would come. What greeted her first was the warm sound of music and laughter. Not rich, honeyed laughter but real laughter, laughter that belonged to a time she had not been familiar with in far too long. It was feminine, rich, and pleasant. This, more than the intricate design of the apartment itself, excited her.

Before she knew it Coriolanus was standing in front of her. While another tuxedo-ed man took her coat, he walked up to her. “Welcome,” he greeted, his grin proud and wide. His eyes scanned over her and he was evidently pleased. “You wore the outfit.”

He acted as if she had said the correct answer.

Her smile was warm, and performative to a degree. “I’d be a fool not to,” she cooed.

He was pleased with her, showing it in the way he extended an elbow for her to take. She wrapped her hand around his bicep and he walked them through the long corridor, closer to the sounds of chatter. “Is there anything I should know?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing that I can think of,” he answered.

When they walked into the main room, everyone’s eyes turned in their direction. Coriolanus took to the attention, wearing a cordial grin. One of the women sitting on the multitude of cream chairs hopped up, eyes widening in excitement. “Oh Coryo!” she gushed, pushing through the small crowd to get to them.

She was a stunning woman, lithe, tall, her hair as fair as Coriolanus’ and cascading in loose curls down her shoulders. She reached her hand out in greeting. “I’m Tigris. Coriolanus told me wanted me to make an outfit for someone but he didn’t tell me how beautiful the model would be,” she gushed.

Her cheeks tinted, unused to be fawned over with such earnestness. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she responded, smiling warmly. “Thank you for the outfit, it’s truly stunning.”

Coriolanus patted the hand she had on his bicep and beamed. He was showing her off like a prize, flaunting her. If she didn’t so much like the company of Tigris, she might ask him what he was getting at. But she did like Tigris, quite a lot even though this was their first meeting. Unlike Coriolanus, she was…kind. Nothing disingenuous, not so far as she could see. There was no air of haughtiness to her, no ulterior motive. She reminded her of her mother, in a way.

“I wanted her to be a surprise, Tigris. I knew you’d think she was lovely,” Coriolanus said softly. Tigris looked at him gratefully, cupping his cheek with a gloved hand affectionately.

“You’re sweet, Coryo,” she said. “Why don’t you go introduce her to the rest of the party, maybe feed her–” she looked down. “Sorry, I don’t mean to talk like you’re not here. There’s food in the kitchen and more drinks on the counter if you’re interested. I’m certain everyone else will be very excited to meet you. It’s not often Coriolanus brings someone to my parties.”

They both watched as Tigris returned into the mix of individuals. All of them were stunning, model good-looking—even the ones with more exotic appearances. Their bright hair colors and lavish makeup only accentuated their beauty. They were, to put it simply, ethereal. Not at all like the people she would expect Coriolanus to consort with.

“She’s my cousin,” he said as if reading her thoughts.

“And what does she think I am to you?” she asked.

He shrugged. “A friend, I suppose.”

“That doesn’t make her curious?”

Coriolanus laughed. “No. Tigris stopped asking me questions long ago and it’s best that way. Now come.” He pointed to another open space across the room. “If I don’t get you something to eat she’ll be angry with me.”

“Is this all you wanted me here for?” she asked once they were secluded from the rest of the party. “To make your cousin happy?”

He handed her a plate and smiled his typical confounding grin. “If it was?” he taunted, tossing a berry in his mouth.

“I’d say I wasn’t an escort,” she responded.

This response made his grin stretch. “Of course you’re not,” he assured.

He followed her down the line of food, watching as she selected bits of fruits, meats, the fanciful little hor devours. Something about Coriolanus made her feel more transparent—like he knew the game she’d been playing and was waiting for her to acknowledge how clever he was for catching on. But of course he knew the game. Wasn’t he the one who sought her out?

“It’s no lie that I’m hungry, Coriolanus,” she finally submitted. Her admission made him hum delightedly around a grape.

“So eat,” he encouraged, taking a step forward. He raised a grape to her lips. When she didn’t take it from his fingers, he smirked. “Not a fan?” he teased, plopping it in his mouth. “Well, no worries. There's a lot of food here. And—“ he lowered his voice, “you can have as much as you like for as long as you like. That’s the nice thing about working with me: you don’t go hungry.”

Her eyes turned into slits. “I’m here, aren’t I?” she snapped.

He nodded, his carefully styled coif of hair bouncing. “You are, but there’s still more for you to decide. When we walk back out there, Tigris’ friends will grow interested even if she doesn’t. They’ve never seen you and you’re objectively good-looking—of course they’re going to want to know where I found you.”

She took a sip of the wine, not understanding where he was headed. This didn’t seem to bother him. He continued with a crooked grin. “When they ask you what you are, you're more than welcome to be honest. The future is what you make it.”

He took his own sip, his eyes full of meaning. She hated him. He was thrilled at her undoing, thrilled at the fact that he could control her in even the subtlest ways.

“And if I say I’m a whore?” she challenged.

He wetted his lips, setting the glass on the counter behind him. “Then a whore you shall be.”

“And if I tell them I’m your whore?”

He regarded her with an uneasy calm. She shifted uncomfortably beneath his unblinking gaze.

“Then my whore you’ll be,” he answered.

The finality of it sent her into a reflective quiet.

—

As Coriolanus predicted, Tigris’ friends were inquisitive.

After he’d let her eat in quiet, he’d guided her back out to the party where everyone was positioned in a circle. The room was made that way, adapting the Snowflake design of the house itself, each of the chairs orbiting one lone glass table in the middle. It was clever, helping facilitate conversation, but intimidating for whoever had the floor.

“Coriolanus, what does your little dove do? You’ve both spoken so little tonight and I think it’s safe to say we’re all dying to know,” one of them, who she thought was named Otho, said.

Tigris smiled ruefully. “I’m sure she speaks for herself, Otho.”

She smiled, having remembered the name correctly. It wasn’t until a second later that she realized they’d all turned their attention to her expectantly—including Coriolanus. They shared a glance before she eased back in the chair. He was nervous, perhaps just as much as she was.

“I don’t do much,” she evaded, bringing the glass of wine up to her lips.

Otho pressed on. “Oh, and how does one as young as yourself get on with doing nothing? Don’t tell me you’ve got one of those adoring Capital husbands. I mean, you’re pretty enough, but it’s just terribly unfair. I hate meeting them.”

It was a welcome lie. She didn’t look at Coriolanus as she eased her way into it. “I’m sorry to say I do,” she responded. They all leaned forward in their chairs, interested, so she continued. “He’s off in District 2 at the moment. I got one of the patriotic ones; he signed up to be a Peacekeeper not too shortly after our wedding.”

“Was he poor?” one inquired. Tigris poked them with her finger, shaking her head in disappointment.

“It’s quite alright, I don’t mind saying he wasn’t. He thought it was the right thing to do, being fit and young as he was—as he is.”

“Coriolanus was a Peacekeeper,” another one said. She didn’t remember their name either. “Is that how you met him?”

Coriolanus took hold of the conversation. “No. We go back a little farther than that,” he answered. Everyone’s eyes shifted to him.

“Do you?” Tigris asked. She seemed hurt by the idea of not knowing this. It struck her that Coriolanus and Tigris were rather close, like siblings, friends, maybe.

“As children we studied together.” Coriolanus shrugged his shoulders flippantly. Tigris nodded, but looked away.

“That’s true,” she added. She was hitting her stride. It was easy to perform, to be others, almost simpler than to be oneself most days. Coriolanus underestimated how much practice she’d had at that. Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he’d known all along. It was hard to tell with him. “When Coriolanus and I were children I had such a massive crush on him. He was beautiful.”

She looked over at him. He wore a tight grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Don’t you remember how I used to fawn over you?” Her fingers grazed his wrist, and she laughed. He did too. To an outsider, they made quite the jovial pair.

“I can’t say I do, but I’m flattered.” He took another sip of his drink, looking back out to their audience.

“Well, never mind that you don’t remember. I do.” She looked back at them, too. Even Tigris, who seemed wounded by what she didn’t know, stared longingly for more as she plunged into the story. She did remember Coriolanus as a little boy. It was easy enough to supply this information.

“Coriolanus was one of the more considerate boys in our grade. At that time boys made up terrible sing-songy rhymes about how girls were ugly and stinky or what have you, but not Coriolanus. Not that I heard at least.”

Everyone laughed and she looked wistfully at him. He did not look back. Instead, his eyes were captivated by the liquid in his cup. She didn’t let it bother her or take away from her story. “I remember on my sixth birthday I invited him and insisted he sit beside me. He got me a doll. I remember it very clearly. It looked a little bit like me and I thought it was very thoughtful.”

Tigris smiled softly. “That sounds like my Coriolanus.”

Coriolanus rose from his seat. He held up his glass, now empty. “I’m going for a refill,” he informed.

Everyone looked to Tigris as if searching for answers. She guided them towards another topic, smiling brightly as if unbothered. But it was in her eyes, the hurt, the confusion. After a little everyone seemed to forget the absence of him, though. Everyone almost seemed to blossom during it.

She was beginning to suspect that perhaps she’d bit off more than she could chew as she watched them all chattering away like that. Who was this man, she wondered, And why did he hold this much power even over people he seemed to love?

[unfuckyourhabitat]

Greetings, Unfuckers!

Let's go ahead and get it out of the way: Yeah, yeah, I'm one of those assholes dipping their toes back into tumblr after an extended time away. I'm hoping you'll show some mercy due to my many previous years of service here and the fact that this is UfYH's original home.

Also! This coming Monday is 11 years since UfYH started. ELEVEN YEARS. So hello to everyone who's been here since the beginning.

What's been going on in UfYH's world in the past few years? Some highlights:

I wrote a book and a guided journal, which I'm really proud of. The first book now exists in English (US and UK), German, Russian, and Turkish.

My first book was updated in the UK with a less-sweary title and the new edition came out this summer.

I quit my day job of 17 years and am freelancing full-time and paying for my health insurance with the help of my Patreon patrons.

I focused mainly on the UfYH Twitter, because that format works really well for me, but, well, you know.

I haven't decided yet where I'm going to go with UfYH on tumblr this time around. I'm gonna be honest, folks. Social media is wildly draining and not always great for my mental health. And constantly creating content (ugh, I hate it, but that's the most accurate word) is exhausting.

But! I think a similar approach to what I've been doing on Twitter might work here — sending out random small challenges with an occasional meandering monologue on my cleaning philosophy or whatever. I'm probably not going to resume scheduled reminders or reblog a ton of before and afters, mainly because that's all really time-consuming and involved.

Anyway, I'm reminded that one way tumblr is great for me is that I can post these ramblings and don't have to create a graphic or plot stuff out a month in advance. The most I can promise is that we'll see how it goes, but, well, isn't that kind of what UfYH is about anyway?

[pensivegreen]

Whispers In The Dark - Prologue

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Note: not canon, diverges from storyline. Slow burn. Also, my first time attempting to actually write.

TW: typical criminal minds description of crime and criminal behavior, brief mention of age insecurities

WC: 1.2 K

Walking into headquarters on Monday mornings never gets old; it’s been three years, and every time your posture straightens with the confidence boosted by the purpose your job gives you. With a black coffee, you step off the elevator towards the bullpen. JJ had called earlier, informing the team to head straight to the conference room for nine.

“Good morning, Munchkin,” the well-meant nickname falls from a grinning Morgan, always chipper in the morning.

“You do realize I’m average height, right?” Raising an eyebrow at Derek, you place your bag down on the desk. Unlike everyone else, your desk isn’t littered with pictures or anything really personal. The surface mirrors your professional and tidy nature, with only a pumpkin-shaped mug hinting that you have a personality and interests.

“Baby doll, you are the shortest in the team and ooze sweetness to people in the field. Hate to break it to you, but you earned that nickname,” Derek rattles off, meandering over to your desk. Patting your head to finish his sentence, not in a taunting manner but in hopes of comforting.

“Derek, JJ is only like an inch taller than me,” you swat Derek’s hand away, smirking back at him, “and you’re making me rethink being nice to you.”

Feigning hurt, Derek places his hand across his heart, “You could never.” Banter is needed in this line of work; if you allow the horrible things you see to consume every fiber of your being, you won’t last in life. Unlike most people, you learned at a very young age to “flip a switch”, being tossed around as an orphan causes you to thicken your skin early. Turning off your emotions allows you to physically get through things; not creating any emotional ties to what you experience. Then, when you finish for the day, the switch is hit once again, allowing life and work to never mix.

Spencer strolls in, always the most punctual of the group. “Hey, we only have two minutes before the briefing,” he informs both of you before walking by and up toward the conference room. You and Derek exchange a glance before collecting your coffees and following after Spencer. Entering the doorway, JJ, Spencer, Emily, and Rossi are already seated at the table. Settling for the open chair next to Emily, you glance up just as Hotch walks in. 

Your boss was actually the man to offer you a job at the bureau after you helped him with a case. With a master’s in behavioral neuroscience and working on a Ph.D. in criminology, you were asked to join the local sheriff’s office as an investigator at the age of 20. This caused many of your fellow officers to be standoffish and cold, rightfully so, but within a year you had earned the respect of the small-town officers. And within another 2 years, you were inviting the BAU to your town to help solve a case, leading to Hotch to take a liking to your work ethic and abilities.   

“JJ, are you ready?” Hotch’s deep voice penetrates the room, mixing a gentle timbre with a stern tone. You can’t deny the moment you met this man he enamored you. His presence dominating but caring creating a level of protectiveness that you just ate up. 

“Yes sir.” JJ is up in seconds, passing out case folders before standing back in front of the TV monitor. “Over the past six months, five women have been found dead in remote areas near downtown D.C. All the victims are short females in their 20s and attend Strayer University.” Everyone’s eyebrows raise at the specifics, noting the nearly identical nature of the women.

“How are we just hearing about this when this has been happening practically in our backyard?” Emily asks the million-dollar question everyone ponders.

“I don’t know, but these scenes are gruesome. What these poor girls went through is hard to even think about,” JJ continues with a grimace as she flicks through the crime scene photos on the TV, “medical examiners report that each woman sustained prolonged torture before being finished off by strangulation. In some cases, sharp force trauma to the lower abdomen was found.”

“The amount of organization and fixation this unsub possesses is unique, indicative of a preference and a specific trigger for the unsub. The fact that the victims are abducted in areas where they feel relatively safe suggests that the unsub is familiar with the environment and possibly blends in easily. Also, the nature implies a level of patience and predatory behavior.” Spencer verbalizes an analysis without lifting his eyes from his case file.

“But why the extreme torture if the plan was strangulation and dumping?” Rossi questions the interesting nature of the case. “Those who torture usually hold on to their victims until the torture methods result in death. Then they bury them, trying to hide the bodies, not flaunt them.”

You once worked a case with a similar pattern of violence when you were a criminal investigator. Closing your file, you answer the lingering question, “The pattern of torture before murder indicates that the unsub derives satisfaction from the control and pain inflicted on the victims. This suggests a sadistic personality with deep-seated anger or resentment, likely stemming from past experiences. The victims being left in remote locations might indicate a desire to prolong the discovery, giving the unsub a sense of control over the investigation. Also, I have a feeling he wants them to feel humiliated even in death.”

Everyone nods in agreement at the possibility, but JJ takes it one step further, “You’re right there.” The screen flickers to a set of five images, “these were recovered from each scene. None of the family or friends of the victims claim that they belong to the women.” Five near-identical charms carved out of wood are presented on the TV.

“The unsub probably has a history of being rejected or humiliated by women who fit this specific profile either romantically or as an authority figure. The meticulous nature of the crimes suggests an organized offender, possibly with a high IQ, who plans his abductions and murders in detail. He knows the college and surrounding area very well.” Hotch fills in the missing blanks of what we all hypothesize to be true about the offender. “Good work JJ. Since we are only an hour’s drive from D.C., we won’t be taking the jet. Everyone be ready in 30.”

With Hotch’s final word, everyone gets up to prepare to hit the road. You move slowly, filled with a nagging feeling after the briefing. Typically, you don’t get bothered by crime scene photos, but something about staring at those girls and seeing yourself has you feeling off. You try to shake the feeling as you grab your to-go bag, not wanting to seem out of focus in front of everyone. Although you have made your place in the team, you don’t want to leave room for any glimmer of doubt to arise. You are young compared to them, only 26 with three years at the BAU under your belt. You know how others talk about your age and quantifiable experience, and you don’t want your actions to create a space for these rumors to come true.