#raucous runner

[fr-familiar-bracket]

#flight rising #flight rising polls #fr #fr polls #fr familiar bracket #round 1 #raucous runner #magic carpet

[justwearthegoddamncardigan]

Hi how are you? I just finished the maze runner and I am in love with newt but sadly he died…I’m traumatized lmao and heart broken so I really wanna request newt x reader I have a plot in my mind like in the end you’re the only one with newt Thomas has gone with Minho and you have no choice but to cut your wrist to give him your blood you don’t know if it’s going to work or not and you passed out because of blood lost, And you kinda wake up at the end thinking newt has gone so you went to the nearby heal to cry alone then like someone puts a jacket on you, you turn around and he’s there (giving the night we met song vibe) like the first day you came up to the glade and you were scared and newt put his jacket over you like that

I’m not good at explaining but I hope you understand

I love your work and I have read all of your newt x reader works

thank you and have a great day!

HELLO this was requested months ago I'm so so sorry it took such a long time. I was so excited to write this idea when I read it in my inbox, thank you for requesting! Hope you enjoy :)

The night we met

Established Newt x gender neutral!reader

Set during tdc + flashback to tmr (movieverse)

Warnings: blood and injury, extremely fake medical procedures, language

The Gladers' laughter echoes into the sky, and you stand outside the circle of raucous celebration.

Despite the hot night air, you shiver at the sound of metallic screeches beyond the walls of the Maze; the walls of this trap.

You stand there, shaking slightly, until you feel something warm and soft being placed around your shoulders, and you turn and see him.

"You 'right there, Greenie?"

You remember Newt placing a gentle hand on your shoulder that night; your first night in the Glade, and offering quiet comforting words.

You remember the glow of firelight casting his hair into a halo, and that was the moment he became your guiding light, your beacon of warmth.

His hands are cold now, his eyes staring unseeingly into darkness.

“Y/n.” Minho’s voice is broken, choked in a way you’ve never heard before. “We have to- we’ve gotta follow Thomas.”

No. “I won’t leave him,” you say.

“Y/n…”

“I won’t,” you repeat. “We- we have to bring his body back. I can’t leave him like this.”

“We can’t just drag him there,” says Gally, gently, in his best attempt to be comforting.

“You guys go on,” you say. “Come back for us later.”

Minho exchanges a look with Frypan.

“Please,” you whisper.

Brenda reaches out a hand to squeeze your shoulder as she goes, and the four of them reluctantly leave you there, following Thomas' path towards WCKD.

Gone. The reality comes crashing down as you sit with Newt, alone, and something in you snaps.

The tears pour steadily faster, and you scrub then away roughly. “I’m sorry,” you whisper thickly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Damn it. You can't leave me like this,” you tell him. You card your fingers through his hair. “I love you. I love you, and I need you. I can't live without you, Newt.”

“Newton.” Newt wrinkles his nose as you reach up and ruffle his hair, and you laugh at his scrunched up face.

“What? Newt’s gotta come from some other name." You hum slightly, face tilted with an exaggerated thinking expression. "Newtie?”

“Slim it, shuckface.” He grabs your hand out of the air and keeps it tightly clutched in his so you can’t mess with his hair. You grin at the tiny smile on his face, and wiggle your fingers in his grip.

You reach for the knife in his chest, gripping it against your palm and pulling it out, before draping your gloves over the wound to cover it.

You wipe the blackened blood on your pants, swallowing bile as you gaze at the smear.

Blood. Blood. What if…

Teresa said Thomas’ blood was the cure, but what if yours works too?

You gaze at the knife in your hands.

“You’d say I’m stupid for doing what I’m about to do,” you tell Newt. “But I think I’d do anything right about now, if it could bring you back.”

You cut into your wrist, bright red blood springing out immediately.

Shuck, where do I-

You expose the chest wound again and pour your blood into it. Please, please work.

More, you need more. You cut your other wrist open and Newt’s too. Get it into his veins.

Your vision starts to blur at the edges, as you pour your blood into Newt, trying to pour life back into him.

You feel yourself fading, and you fumble to bandage your wrists quickly before letting yourself fall into darkness, slumping against the boy you love. Please come back to me.

⭒----⭒

You wake up slowly, fighting to cut through the haze in your mind.

As you sit up, your eyes fall on Newt, still lying beside you, unmoving.

He's gone. Stupid. Stupid to think you could've brought him back.

Suddenly you can't look at his face anymore. You lurch to your feet and stumble away, walking out of this shadowed place, out of the building, away from the streets.

You end up sitting on some hill nearby, alone in the grass hugging your knees, the wind blowing through your hair and drying the tears as they flow down your face.

You don't know how long you sit there, before you feel something being placed on your shoulders, the action achingly familiar.

You don't turn at first, not wanting to hope, until you hear a soft "Alright there, Greenie?"

You whip around, and there he is. Kneeling in the grass beside you, a smile on his face and tears in his eyes.

A sob escapes your throat as you dive towards him, throwing your arms around his body, feeling it warm, solid, alive.

The force of your body colliding with Newt's knocks him into the ground, flat on his back against the grass, but he just laughs and pulls you closer, his arms tight around you as you feel him press his face into your hair.

"Newt-"

"I'm here, I'm sorry,"

You shake your head, pulling back to look at his face.

It's gone, you realise, running your thumb across his cheek. The black veins that were streaked across him just hours ago have faded.

"You're okay," you murmur, more for yourself than him.

Newt smiles. "Yeah, I'm okay." He leans up, closer to you, and captures your mouth in a kiss. He tastes of black bitterness and salt, but you chase his lips anyway, until you're both out of breath.

You break apart as you hear static in your walkie-talkie. "...Y/n, you there?"

You grab the device to reply, one hand still clasped in Newt's. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Where?" asks Minho. "We're back where you were earlier; Jorge and Vince found us at WCKD, we've got a Berg nearby, but Thomas got shot so we have to get going."

"I'm just on a hill nearby," you tell him. "I'll come to you, stay there."

You turn to Newt. "You ready?"

He nods. "Yeah, let's go."

⭒----⭒

You walk in together, and you see the moment everyone's faces change, snapping to shock.

Minho's eyes jump to yours, like he's asking for confirmation, and you nod, a smile forming on your face.

Newt gives a little wave, almost nervously, and then Minho moves, dropping the gun in his hands and charging towards Newt, grabbing him into a hug.

Brenda's next, punching Newt in the arm before embracing him tightly, then Gally, and then Frypan, who doesn't let go until Minho butts in with a "alright guys, we should probably get going, Tommy's bleeding out, and we've got a safe haven to get to."

Newt holds your hand in his, tossing his free arm over Minho's shoulder. "Yeah, let's get going. Let's go home."

Thank you to @jinjinchouxcream for the brilliance behind this fic idea <3

#the maze runner #newt x reader #newt x you #tmr newt x reader #tmr newt #my writing

[blueraineshadows]

Blood Bound Part 7

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️ Leander Prewett

Whilst Sebastian falls even deeper into darkness, MC heads into the Ministry for the return of her wand. Drowning in her own struggles, faces from the past offer glimpses of light in the darkness as she gravitates even closer towards her Auror.

14.7k words. Tags: NSFW / Violence / dark magic / torture / physical injury and self harm / murder / mental health struggles / sexual tension / angst

Chapter Master List and Ao3

Taglist at the end

Seven: Full Dark, Hints of Stars

Sebastian 

Night was settling over London, shadows deepening in the twists and turns of Knockturn Alley, and the clientele in The Black Rose pub were just getting started. It was the place to go when one wanted to escape reality for a while, losing oneself within the alcohol and the boys and ladies of the night. The bar room was a heated, rowdy crowd, raucous laughter driving Sebastian into the calmer and more private area at the rear of the pub, seated in a quiet corner whilst those in Rookwood’s inner circle sat around the large table and played their cards. 

Sebastian twirled his whiskey glass in his hand, the amber liquid shimmering in the glow of the lamp light, the burn of it on his tongue from the few sips he had taken tempting him to drain the fiery brew and scorch out the gloom that settled around him like a familiar cloak. Brooding over his run-in with Anne, he couldn’t shake that old fiend loneliness, his chest aching with the need to feel like he belonged somewhere. It curled and coiled like a snake, waiting to strike at him, tearing him up until the call of the whiskey or the fighting pit won out.

Where was she? Where was MC?

Nobody had seen her, no sightings by those he had asked, and none of the members of the gang had heard any whispers where she was concerned. It was like she had vanished as soon as she had stepped out of that cold fortress, and Prewett had disappeared with her. Skulking around outside the Ministry in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the Auror had turned up nothing. Another visit to Weasley proved fruitless, and Andrew Larson was annoyingly close-lipped, merely promising to pass on another message and nothing more.

Someone had to know where she had gone.

Pulled from his moping thoughts by the sounds of a struggle outside the door, he turned his head in that direction as some of the gang members began to stand. The door burst open, Marvolo dragging a whimpering man in with him, Rookwood strolling in behind them, his blue eyes like chips of ice. Sebastian fought the urge to sneer in disdain at the theatrical stroll that Rookwood cut as he crossed the room, seating himself in a chair next to Carrow who was taunting the young, male whore he favoured. 

All attention was on Marvolo as he shoved the trembling man to the floor, brushing off his black velvet waistcoat as if it had been tainted by the poor wretch, the harsh lines of his face frozen in a look of hatred as he stood menacingly over him.

“Behold, ladies and gentlemen, we have discovered a rather nasty little rat in our midst,” Rookwood said, gesturing towards the man on the floor. Sebastian sat up for a closer look, his eyes narrowing. “This rat has been whispering in the ears of our good friend, Auror Harrington. Now, what do we think about this?”

Sebastian put down his glass and stood, stepping forward slowly. He recognised the name of that Auror. He had seen it written in the visitors ledger at Azkaban next to MC’s prisoner number, and he had seen the man himself down in the pits with Prewett. As his boots drew closer towards where the man had got onto his hands and knees, Sebastian slid his wand from his holster. He recognised the man as one of Rookwood’s messenger runners. He would have known details regarding the prison break, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he had blabbed the news to the Auror.

The tip of his wand touched under the man’s chin, making him flinch, his eyes reluctantly looking upwards at Sebastian’s face. “You told them we were going to get her out, didn’t you? You let me go into Azkaban knowing that Aurors would be aware of it.”

“N-no, no,” he protested feebly, shaking his head as tears flooded his eyes. “I didn’t tell them that.”

“You told them something, though, didn’t you little rat?” Marvolo hissed, swinging a foot to kick at the bloke’s side, sending him sprawling to the floor again. “Dirty rats who squeal get punished. How should we punish you, hmm? Perhaps we could remove your tongue so that you can’t spread secrets anymore.”

Sebastian felt the shadows closing in. All the darkness that he tried to fight back began to curl around him with welcoming arms, pushing inwards and making him quiver with anticipation. His fingers flexed slowly around his wand, and he shifted his gaze towards Marvolo, who met his eyes with a cold smirk.

“He almost dropped you in it, Sallow. He told the Aurors about the prison break. It probably led to them moving our little witch out of our reach,” he said, his words dripping with icy malice. “Hurt him.”

Staring down at the rat, his shadows beginning to smother him, Sebastian raised his wand arm, the darkness blooming in his eyes as he aimed. They had taken MC away because of him. It was his fault. The words were like a whispering mantra, twisting through his head as he summoned the desire needed to do what had to be done. Cold calm slid over him and his eyes narrowed, his intent so fierce that he barely registered the look of horror on the rat’s face as he flicked his wrist, the end of his wand blistering with red.

“Crucio!”

The screams that filled the room seemed to echo off the walls, a horrifying sound that made shivers travel down Sebastian’s spine, like fingernails down a blackboard but a million times louder. The coldness and terror of Azkaban seemed to flow through his veins, the image of the old hag spitting and screaming on the stone floor filling his head as the man writhed on the floor before him in a cruel mimicry. That coldness seeped slowly towards his heart, the thud of its life force filling his ears as darkness claimed him for its own. He felt the pull of it, the urge to intensify the pain inflicted as the yearning filled him to see MC’s face.

For her. He would do anything for her. Even this.

His hand twisted, and the screams became broken, high-pitched sounds that had the others in the room wincing and turning away, but Sebastian kept steady. He couldn’t seem to let it go, all the turmoil trapped behind his ribs, channelling down his arm and through the end of his wand in a scorching blast of red.

“Enough,” Marvolo said firmly, his hand grabbing at Sebastian’s wrist, his fingers cold and hard. He met Sebastian’s eyes, his glare dark and glittering with warning, jarring Sebastian out of his trance. “Enough.”

Blinking, the black fog clearing a little, Sebastian looked down at the man on the floor, breathing harshly at the sight of the blood coming from his nose and mouth. Shocked, he relinquished the spell, his hands shaking as he took a step back and rubbed a hand over his face. The realisation that he had almost lost himself there for a moment made him shudder. Casting a glance around the room, he realised that everyone was staring at him, there was fear in the depths of the eyes of a few, but Rookwood was watching him with a cold curiosity that made him grit his teeth and straighten his spine.

“It might be worth those present noting not to cross you, Sallow,” Rookwood said silkily, rising to his feet. “That was quite the performance.”

Sebastian remained silent, but a few others in the room exchanged looks and stepped back. Breathing heavily through his nose, Sebastian kept his feet planted despite the wobbly feeling in his legs. Rookwood turned his gaze towards Marvolo and gave a subtle nod.

Marvolo calmly took out his wand and aimed at the twitching, garbled mess of a man on the floor. The poor bastard had pissed himself, his fingers in the shape of claws as he tried to gather himself against the pain riddled agony his body had endured. Sebastian felt the first glimmers of shame sink through him and expected death to erupt from Marvolo’s wand as the final blow. But, he was wrong.

“Magicus Extractio,” Marvolo uttered, his voice frigid calm as wisps of silvery white swirled from his wand and made for the man’s chest.

The room became utterly silent as the man arched up off the floor, the agony on his face almost too much to bear as Sebastian felt horrified realisation slam into his mind.

No. This couldn’t be happening.

Six years ago, he had persuaded Ominis to open the Scriptorium below Hogwarts, a day he would never forget. In doing so, he had laid hands on a most valuable spellbook. A grimoire written by the hand of Slytherin himself. Delighted and hungry to devour the secrets of such a man, Sebastian had spent hours poring over that book, committing to memory some of the darkest words to have been inked that he had ever seen. 

With fascinated horror, he fixed his eyes on Marvolo, the cold mask of his face eerie from the glow of his spell casting. Marvolo had Slytherin’s blood in his veins. Like Ominis, he was a descendant of that most clever but dark souled man. Clearly, it was more than blood that had been passed down through his lineage. The grim satisfaction on Marvolo’s face made Sebastian swallow hard as strands of light began to be extracted from the man on the floor.

It was as Sebastian had suspected. The incantation had been exactly the spell he had remembered, and he was frozen still with the horror that Marvolo dared cast it. This was a fate worse than death for a witch or wizard, to have one’s magic syphoned from their bodies, robbed of their abilities and their birthright by the casting of a most dreadful spell.

The man could do nothing but struggle feebly like a rag doll as his magic left his body, gathering above him in a swirl of golden light, the threads of it glittering and shimmering with such beauty in the room. Sebastian felt the burn of tears in his eyes, his horror turning to bitter grief as he imagined such a thing being done to him. It was unbearable to even imagine, and yet he did nothing. He stood there and watched as a wizard was robbed of something so personal and precious.

“It worked,” Rookwood said with awe, moving closer to stare at the beauty of the magic, reaching out a hand towards it. “Now, all we need to find out is how to absorb it.”

Sebastian stared in shock. “Absorb it?”

His words may have been breathless, but Rookwood heard him well enough. He turned sly eyes Sebastian’s way. “Of course,” he said softly. “It would be a shame to waste such power. Don’t you agree?”

“We don’t know the spellwork for that part yet,” Marvolo said, shrugging. “But, we will. For now, sadly, this one is useless.”

With a flick of his wrist, he cast towards the shimmering magic swirls, and they engulfed into flame, burning away quickly until nothing was left. Gone. 

Sinking back down to the floor, the man looked wasted, drained and empty, his eyes glassy as he stared unblinking up at the ceiling. Rookwood frowned down at him and nudged him with a polished boot. “Oh dear, it would appear our little rat is dead,” he said, without a sliver of remorse to his tone. He turned to one of the men standing nearby. “Get rid of him, will you? I’d rather not have him stinking up the place.”

Rookwood and Marvolo were both cold bastards, their indifference almost harsher than the brutal acts they performed. Watching the essence of the man's magic evaporating into flames had been gut churning enough, but it made bile burn in Sebastian’s throat as he wondered what Rookwood had meant about absorbing it. 

Sebastian began to back up, rubbing his forehead as he tried to process what he had just witnessed, his heart thudding so hard behind his ribs that he was fighting for his breaths. Turning his back on Rookwood and Marvolo, he heard the scramble as the deceased man was hoisted from the room, no doubt headed out to become a cadaver for the Body Snatchers who loitered at the far end of Knockturn Alley. Grabbing up the glass he had put down before, he threw back the contents, wincing at the burn of the whiskey as it went down. 

Killing a man would be kinder. To extract his magic was quite another. The violation of it had left Sebastian speechless, and he felt as though the water level had enclosed over his head. He was drowning in darkness, his eyes wide and unseeing as he tried to get hold of himself. 

Unable to bear the enclosed grimness of the room a moment longer, he headed for the door, slamming it open and striding with purpose down the hallway. He vaguely heard his name being hollered after him, but he kept walking. He didn't even know where he was headed, and when he found himself in a shadowed alleyway, the brick dark and the air foul, he stopped. Bracing a hand against the rough brick, he bent forward and retched, losing the contents of his stomach as shameful guilt slammed him from all sides. 

He hadn't even asked the man's name. He had wrought such pain on him, blamed him for MC being missing, and then stood by as Marvolo sucked his magical ability from him. The savageness of such acts had been too much, and the man had lost his life, the ultimate sacrifice unwillingly given. 

Eyes burning, a whimper left Sebastian’s lips as he shrugged his left arm from his jacket and unbuttoned his cuff, yanking up the sleeve of his shirt to expose a tally of black lines on his inner forearm. The first tear escaped his eye as he fumbled for his wand, and he sniffed it back, gritting his teeth as he aimed to scorch one more black line in the tally. 

He groaned, his breath hissing through his gritted teeth at the sting of it, but he berated himself for being such a coward. This pain was nothing compared to what he had inflicted on that poor soul. Once the new black line had been added, he stared at the marks on the inside of his forearm, stark against the paleness of his skin. He may not have dealt the final death blow, but he had played a part in that back there. It was worthy of the added reminder.

His count of lives stolen was growing, and he fought back the burn of more tears, too scared to imagine how many more lines he may need to add before his revenge was done. It was always said that the first one was the worst, but he carried the guilt of every single one.

Pulling down his shirt sleeve and straightening his jacket, Sebastian wiped the dampness from his cheek, the shadows draping him in a darkness he feared he would walk in forever.

This couldn't be all there was. He had never meant for things to get this bad. He had never meant to go this far. He was losing himself day by day. He closed his eyes and thought of Anne, imagining her looking well, her skin glowing with health and happiness. He thought of MC, her smile, the way her eyes used to twinkle when she met his gaze, the fire in her soul when she fought at his side.

Oh, how he ached for both of his girls. This was all for them. 

He took the blood amulet locket from his pocket, his thumb caressing the joined blood of the pact, the ruby red stone still managing to shimmer in the utter dark of the alley. He brought it to his mouth, closing his eyes as he pressed his lips to it in a kiss, clinging on to the bond it represented to try and ease the gaping hole of dark in his chest. 

Looking upwards, he tried to seek out the glimmer of the stars, but as usual, the smog of London obliterated such beauty. He was down amongst the scum and filth of the city. How he longed to be out of it, but where would he go? Back to that empty, cold house in Scotland? There was nothing for him there. Only memories that ripped at his insides. No, he needed to be here. He needed to find MC and finish Rookwood. He needed to cure his sister. 

Straightening up, he turned back for the main path. The night wasn’t over yet. There was still work to be done. 

MC

The bustle of witches and wizards passing her by as they arrived and exited the Ministry was a cacophony of noise that seemed unbearably loud after the desolate silence of the beach house. MC felt the now familiar tightening of apprehension as she watched all manner of people about their business, unconsciously taking a closer step towards Leander, who walked along beside her. Unperturbed by the crowds, he walked with confidence, even nodding his greetings to some as they made their way past many Floo network fireplaces. 

After so long in solitude, it was going to take some time getting used to being around so many people. 

Not one to let her insecurities show, MC set her face into one of careful neutrality and walked onwards, the effects of the speedy Floo Travel giving her legs a wobbly sensation. Looking up and around, MC's gaze took in the grandeur that was the Ministry Atrium, glossy tiles and polished wood floor, a curved arch of a ceiling lending it a feel similar to the style of the new Underground train stations. It was her first time in this part of the Ministry, and she took the opportunity to soak up everything that she had missed out on when they had hauled her to the prisoner holding bay in the depths of the establishment. This world of magic still had the power to amaze and awe a person.

Today, she arrived as a visitor. Still accompanied by an Auror, but here for a more positive reason than the arrest of murder. Today, Leander had brought her here to return her wand into her possession. The hunger and anticipation to hold it in her hand gave her the strength to hold back her anxiety at being so exposed in public, to be reunited with her wand would surely mean to feel whole again.

Pausing by the Fountain of Magical Brethren, she took a moment to listen to the spray of the water, the droplets shimmering on the gold of the statues. The one of the centaur reminded her of the time she had spoken to those who lived in the Forbidden Forest. It led her thoughts towards Poppy, the girl who had joined her on more than one adventure to protect beasts. Wondering where Poppy was now, MC wrapped her arms about herself, conscious of the curious stares fixed on her from those who had taken notice of her presence. 

She had seen the article in The Daily Prophet announcing her release into the world, her prisoner photograph printed for all to see. A murderer, free to walk the streets. There was no outright hostility on the faces turned her way, but none of them bore smiles either. No doubt those she had once called friends would be the same way, blank and indifferent towards a girl they thought they had known, but she no longer fit into their lives.

A light touch to her elbow made her look up, Leander’s soft gaze unfailing as he nodded towards a security desk. “I need to check you in as a visitor, and then we can go down to the basement level to collect your wand. Are you alright?” 

Taking a steadying breath, MC nodded and let him escort her towards the desk, his touch at her elbow so light it was barely there. Sliding a sideways glance up at him, her gaze lingered over the neatly combed hair and close shaved skin, his mouth invitingly soft as he smiled at the witch behind the desk. Ever since the kiss they had shared in his kitchen, he had been so achingly polite, courteous, and kind. 

It had been what she had wanted, what she had asked for, and he was respecting her wishes. He was a true gentleman, acting cordially and respectfully, despite those moments when she would catch his eyes and have the breath stolen from her lungs at what she found there. 

He would hide it quickly, turning from her, a flush spreading across his cheeks and up his neck. Despite the complications that would arise from anything developing between them, she could not help but wonder what may have been had she knocked on his bedroom door that night. 

Despite her past misdemeanours, she had the feeling that Leander felt something towards her, and whatever form those feelings took, surely it wasn't a stretch to hope that others would accept her, too. Watching him present his Auror badge to the security witch, her gaze lingered over his hands, hands that had touched her with kindness and desire, a flutter of warmth dared to kindle in her chest. 

Through the coldness of her loneliness and despair, perhaps she had nurtured some feelings for him, too. Fearing what that could mean, she hurriedly pushed those thoughts aside, not ready to examine the teases of warmth that glowed whenever she allowed her barriers to slip.

“Sign here, please.” The cool, firm voice of the security witch pulled MC from her thoughts, making her look into a pair of eyes that seemed hard and distant. “You need to sign the form to gain entry without a wand. I shall notify the Criminal Stores Office of your pending arrival.” 

Hardening her features against the obvious disapproval on the witch's face, MC picked up the quill and signed her name on the dotted line, taking pride that her hand did not shake in the process. The parchment immediately folded itself into the shape of a bird before flapping its papery wings and taking flight, soaring off and upwards to join many more swooping above their heads. 

“Let's go,” Leander said, lightly touching her elbow again. “We need to take a lift down to the basement level.” 

Crowded into the rear corner of the lift as others began to pile in, MC stood rigid, her palms sweating at the close confinement as the lift lurched into motion. Her stomach dipped as the sensation of fast movement made her wobble on her feet, her hand darting out to steady herself and finding Leander’s robe. 

He glanced downwards as her fingers curled into the fabric, the momentum of the lift pressing her against his side. Their eyes met, and she swallowed hard. “Sorry,” she mumbled. 

“Not to worry,” he said, the faint smile on his lips accompanied by a blush as his hand positioned itself at her back to help steady her. 

Even here, in a lift filled with Ministry workers who could hear and see everything, he was supporting her, refusing to let her flounder and fall. A gesture that was one of simple kindness, and yet it had the power to make her throat close with emotions too huge to deal with right now. It reminded her that he was the only anchor holding her steady as she readjusted to outside life, and it occurred to her that one day she would have to let him go. Lowering her gaze from gold flecked, brown eyes, she grit her teeth and waited for the lift to stop. 

After 3 stops, her hand was still holding tightly to his robe, and the warmth of his palm on her back was a little too comforting. The urge to lean her head against his chest had been strong, but she had remained rigidly upright. As the last remaining witch and wizard who were with them disembarked, Leander’s hand slid away.

“This is us,” he said, nodding out at a shadowed corridor she recognised. 

Reluctantly, she let go of him and followed him out into the tiled hallway, the dark green gloss of the tiles reflecting light in an eerie glow. The last time she had walked along here, she had been in chains. 

Memories crashed through her head of that day, the weight of the chains, the burn of her eyes from the tears she'd cried. Sebastian’s pleas to let her go still ringing in her ears after they had ripped her from his desperate grip. She remembered the fury of the betrayal, Anne’s lies leading her towards a sentence serving time for a murder she didn't commit. 

Her breathing quickened as the memories swamped her, her hands twisting anxiously as she tried to block the image of Anne’s face from her thoughts. How could she not hate that manipulative bitch?

The searing burn began to snake through her blood, her pact to never hurt Sebastian reminding her that to wish pain on one twin was to destroy the other. Gasping at the burn, MC put a hand to her heart as it throbbed, pausing to press her other palm to the coolness of the tiled wall. 

“What is it?” Leander asked, a look of concern creasing his brow as he turned to her. 

“This place,” she muttered through tight lips. “It's not exactly filled with fond memories.” 

“Of course,” he nodded, wincing slightly as he carefully took her elbow. “It's not much further, and we can get off this level as soon as you have your wand, I promise.” 

Breathing slowly, MC nodded and let him escort her down the hallway, their echoing footsteps joined by another set as they rounded a corner. MC gasped aloud, coming to an abrupt halt as she took in the familiar figure of Ominis with his wand held aloft so he could find his way, the tip blinking red. He, too, came to a pause when he realised they were blocking his way. 

The cool, haughty look on his face was very much how she remembered the boy, but the man cut a fine figure standing before her now. Tall, almost as tall as Leander, slim and dressed impeccably in a black suit, his blonde hair slightly shorter than she remembered, Ominis had grown to be very handsome indeed. 

“Ominis,” she said, a swell of emotion blooming behind her ribs as she remembered fond moments spent in his company. 

Ominis tilted his head, his mouth parting slightly as his sightless eyes moved quickly from side to side. He angled his wand in the direction her voice had come from. “Announce yourselves,” he said, an air of command laced through the softly spoken words. 

Leander cleared his throat, his eyes darting between her and Ominis. “Good morning, Ominis. It's Leander Prewett standing before you, along with an old friend of yours.”

Ominis raised his eyebrows, his mouth pursed in thought. “Intriguing,” he said softly, turning to fully face MC now. “Is it really you, MC?” 

“It is,” she said, her voice catching slightly as her eyes stung. Faced with a former friend, her worries clawed at her insides, the fear of being rejected needling at her as she waited. 

The moment stretched in the eerie silence of the corridor, and MC glanced towards Leander, an odd feeling shivering down her spine as she expected the backlash of the last four years to pour from Ominis’ mouth in a lecture. However, his brow smoothed into a look that could almost be described as soft, a hesitant hand reaching towards her. 

“Are you well?” He asked, his head tilting slightly.

“According to the Healer, I am as fit as a fiddle,” she said, knowing that while her body was regaining its strength, her mind was still trapped back in that cell.

Ominis stretched his hand out towards her a little more, and she looked down at it. Knowing how reluctant Ominis could be regarding physical intimacy, she hesitated before she let her fingers touch against his, the coolness of his hand immediately wrapping around hers, bringing a lump to her throat. 

“Why don’t I give you a moment to get reacquainted,” Leander said, offering MC a smile. “I will go on to the reception and get things started. You can come along and find me when you are done. Is that alright?”

Her eyes widened as she looked up at Leander. “You’re leaving me unattended?”

His smile faltered a little, a flicker of sadness appearing on his face. “MC, you’re not a prisoner anymore. You need to remember that. I won’t be far away, and Ominis can point you in the right direction if you’re unsure.”

“Of course,” Ominis said, inclining his head towards Leander. Amusement teased at his lips. “Don’t worry. I shall escort her back to your side, Prewett.”

Leander looked uncertain for a moment, a frown creasing his brow as he looked at Ominis, but with a reassuring smile towards her, he turned and walked away down the corridor. MC watched him stride away, a fist of panic lodging in her chest as he disappeared around a corner. With him out of sight, it felt like a safety net had been stripped from underneath her, and her hand gripped Ominis tightly as she swallowed hard.

“Prewett has been taking care of you,” Ominis said shrewdly, stepping closer towards her. “Are you really alright, MC? Azkaban is a terrible place. It did not wholly sit right with me what happened to you.”

The tightness in her chest stretched to snapping point, being here and speaking of such things stirring up memories she didn’t care to revisit, her features twisting with painful grief. “Not enough to stop it from happening, though. Anne lied, and nobody stopped her, not you, not even Sebastian.”

The sharp twist of bitterness at the mention of their lack of help made her release his hand, a shaky breath leaving her lips. Hating how vulnerable she felt in that moment, she backed against the wall, her hands splayed against the cold hardness of the tiles behind her as she put up the familiar mental barriers around herself. These mental wards had been a defence against the Dementors whilst incarcerated. Now, they were protecting her from the unfamiliar world outside and the emotional daggers she feared being cast in her direction. 

“I am sorry, MC,” Ominis said, bowing his head slightly. “You are right. I did nothing back then. I can only imagine the horrors you have faced, but I have sought to remedy my lack of action when I was younger. I have a seat on the Wizengamot, and when your case was presented to us for review, I voted in favour of your release.”

Her eyes took in the smartness of his suit again, trying to picture him seated in the courtroom, making judgement on a person’s crime, and realised that it wasn’t so hard to imagine. As students together, he had always been the moral compass trying to urge her and Sebastian to make better choices. She wondered if he was still close with Sebastian considering his job now.

“So, if you sit for court, you know the terms of my release?” 

“I do,” he said, one eyebrow curving upwards. “You must have agreed to them in order to be standing here. Do you think you can do it? Can you infiltrate the Ashwinders and help bring them down?”

“I will do what needs to be done. Rookwood won’t get away so easily this time,” she said, her taste for vengeance making her fingers flex. 

Ominis hummed thoughtfully, his head tilting at an almost predatory angle. “Even if that means bringing Sebastian down with him?”

The image of Sebastian in Leander’s case notes came to her, blending with the memories that she had clung so fiercely to whilst in prison, and a deep, aching longing filled her chest. Has the bond she had cherished in her protected heart been lost? Perhaps it had been too long. Maybe what they had felt when they were younger was no more than childish whims, but the thought of letting that all go felt like tearing off a chunk of herself.

“Have you seen him? Has he really aligned himself with Rookwood?” There was hope in her voice despite her efforts to remain neutral.

Ominis sighed, shaking his head with a resigned look of despair on his face, his pale, sightless eyes almost luminous in the shadowed corridor. “Sebastian is on a path of self destruction, and I honestly can’t see how he will find any kind of redemption without a small miracle. You know what he is like, stubborn and prone to fixating on his own goals regardless of the consequences. I won’t lie. I fear for him. I can only hope that you choose a better path for yourself, MC. Do not lose yourself in acts of revenge. Don’t bow down to Sebastian’s folly. That’s not what made me vote for your freedom.”

“Why did you vote for my release?”

“A second chance at life, MC. A life that uses your potential, for you are a wonderfully gifted witch,” he said, leaning forward slightly with a small smile. “Don’t waste it. The next time I read your name in the newspaper, I want it to be regarding good things. I never imagined you as the villain in your story.”

Taken back to late nights in the common room at Hogwarts when they would read and discuss the novels they had enjoyed together, MC felt a lump stick in her throat as she stared at her old friend. He had not dismissed her, or cast her aside like gutter filth. He did not paint her as a villain, but then, he did not know about the darkness that lingered inside of her. His despair for Sebastian should cloak her, too, for they shared a kindred spirit. She had nursed her thirst for revenge, and the path was already there under her feet, and she would walk it, even if she had to do it alone.

“I thank you for the chance, Ominis,” she said, her voice tinged with an edge of sadness. “I never wanted to be a villain, but sometimes one must walk through the darkness in order to do what must be done. I will fulfil the terms of my probation, but I can’t promise that my methods will meet your approval. I’m not sure I am cut out to be the hero of the story, either.”

“Just be careful, MC,” he said, his brows drawing together. He reached out his hand again, his fingers tentatively brushing against her arm before withdrawing back into the comfort of his own space. MC noted the gleam of a wedding band on his finger, her gaze curious as she studied him. A respected job in the Ministry and a wife. All signs of how life had moved on without her whilst she drifted in cold darkness. Her loneliness yawned in her chest. 

“Don’t worry about me, Ominis. I am a survivor.”

….*….

The slim, black box sat upon the table in the Criminal Stores Office, just a box with no fancy design, and yet it contained something so deeply valuable to her. MC could feel the disapproval drifting from the woman guard standing on the other side of the table, her eyes slightly narrowed as she waited for MC to open the box. Four years ago, her wand had been taken from her possession after her arrest, placed into this box, and stored away. MC had been lost without it. It felt like she had been only just becoming one with the smooth piece of wood, the contours of it becoming as familiar to her as her own hand through the use of it. 

Reaching out to remove the lid of the box, revealing her wand nestled in a soft bed, the memory of the day it had chosen her inside Ollivander’s shop flooded through her. The feeling of holding it within her grasp compared to nothing else, and as she plucked it out of the box now, her eyes burned at the feeling of it against her fingers. Smoothing her touch along the wood, she took a steadying breath, allowing the moment to sink in as she reacquainted herself with her connection to her magic.

The wand chooses the wizard, she was told, and her wand had chosen the tempest of ancient magic that slumbered in her veins. She could feel it now, pulsing with eager energy now that there was a conduit to release its power. Gripping the handle of the wand, she held it up, her ancient magic simmering and throbbing with the need to be released, but she remained steady as she gazed at the graceful twist of the pale wood. This was neither the time or the place, and she had another spell in mind to cast first. She swallowed and uttered the charm.

“Lumos!”

After so long in the darkness, the simple matter of seeking out a spark of light was enough to bring the sheen of tears to her eyes. Holding her wand up, the orb of light glowed in the office, reflecting off the pale skin of her face and making her eyes glitter like stars. With the return of her magic, she could do anything.

Villain, or hero? Ominis had urged her towards the light, but it was likely she would pull the shadows with her if she did. Whatever path she chose, it was ultimately her choice. Now, with her wand back within her grasp, her destiny was of her own making. She didn’t have to rely on others to save her. She could do that herself.

Movement at her side made her break from the reverie she held on the sphere of light, her gaze shifting towards Leander as she muttered the counter charm to put it out. Staring up at his brown eyes, she knew she had much to thank him for. The shifting feelings behind her ribs over him were enough to steal her breath sometimes. It scared her. She could admit that.

“How does it feel?” He asked, his lips curving into his familiar soft smile.

Almost smiling in return at the loaded question considering the thread of her thoughts, MC looked down at her wand in her hand, her fingers flexing as she considered her feelings. The thrum of ancient magic still begged for a release and she bit her lower lip, choosing to ignore the unfurling and simmering flame that teased at her whenever she looked too closely at him.

“It feels rather good,” she replied, a slight smirk playing on her mouth. “I also feel the urge to release some pent-up energy. I’m rather inspired to throw a few explosive spells around, you know, unleash some of the frustration at being locked up for so long.”

Her devilish eyes glanced towards the guard still standing opposite them, and the tightened expression of disapproval on her face brought out the full smirk onto MC’s lips. A familiar spark of mischievousness came to life within her, a freeing and exhilarating feeling that only charged the need to express her magic. Turning her gaze back towards Leander, she was intrigued to see a rather amused and playful smirk on his own lips.

“Plenty of time for that,” he said, and he even dropped her a wink that almost disarmed her completely. “Hold that thought.”

Leander

There was definitely something different about MC now that she had her wand returned to her. There was a spark in her eyes, a glimmer of the exciting young girl who had walked the halls of Hogwarts and turned his head when he had been an awkward teenage boy. He was still slightly awkward when it came to the opposite sex, but he was more settled in his own skin to know that she could still captivate him despite everything.

He could hardly tear his eyes away from her as they travelled in the lift together, her body pressed close as she held onto his arm, the speedy momentum of the vessel making them lean against one another whilst he held onto the strap above their heads. He couldn’t deny how good it felt to have her there, to feel her so close. It worried him that he was becoming too attached to her, and soon, she would be leaving to join the Ashwinder group. 

He marvelled at his own restraint around her, the memory of her soft lips was seared into his mind, and the hunger to seek out more of the same kept him awake. The sensible part of his mind knew it was folly to dream, and yet he couldn’t help but sneak longing glances her way. Allowing her to be so close was a dangerous game, but one he was clearly playing, seemingly unable to resist the ease of placing a polite hand against her lower back, or touching her elbow to guide her through the myriad of corridors and turns of the Ministry Headquarters.

Stepping out of the lift at level two, Leander couldn’t help the burst of pride that showed in his smile as he guided MC along the red carpeted corridor. “Welcome to the British Auror Office,” he said, holding out his hand towards the doors that opened into his department. 

“Are you sure I will be welcome here, Lee?” Her eyebrow curved upwards as they headed towards the doors. “I am a convicted Auror slayer, after all.”

“Don’t worry. We are just passing through,” he said, opening the doors and ushering her through first. “I want to ask Andrew a favour before we leave.”

Walking past the desk cubicles, curious glances were thrown their way as he led MC towards the research department. He noticed how she stiffened her spine, that cool mask of indifference slipping onto her face. Outward appearances did give her the look of a hardened woman, cold and capable of death, and he didn’t miss the disapproving frowns and curled lips of disgust as they passed some older Aurors. They didn’t know what lay beneath her hard exterior, the vulnerable and soft side of her that he had seen glimpses of over the last few weeks. He had seen her broken and lost. He had felt her fire under his hands and mouth, and he held his head up a little higher. He was not ashamed to walk beside her, and he touched his hand to her elbow in support as well as guidance as they approached the doors that they needed. 

Taking her to Andrew Larson was a hope. The possibility that he might be able to turn up information that could help seemed like a step in the right direction. Through her vulnerability, MC had made him question everything that he had read in her file. She was just a young girl, and no more than a child when she had been thrust into this world of magic, blessed with a power so far out of comprehension and with limited knowledge on how to wield it. If there had been others before her, surely there had to be buried records somewhere.

He still couldn’t put the cold-hearted killer alongside the girl he had seen and spent time with and come up with a logical match. There had to be more to all of this, and his mind wouldn’t stop rooting around for answers.

He also wanted to help her, to keep her a part of his daily life, to build a stronger connection than just being here as her probation Auror. She really was more than just a job to him, despite the fact that he did indeed have a job to do.

Andrew was at his desk, files open before him, and he looked up as they approached. His smile of greeting faltered, and his eyes widened as he stared at MC, his hand pushing nervously through his hair as he got to his feet.

“Morning, Leander. I haven’t seen you for a few days. I was beginning to wonder if you were alright,” he said, his eyes anxious as they darted between him and MC.

The last time Leander had seen Andrew, he had been planning to go down into the duelling pit. Despite sending an owl since, Leander had been rather vague in his details, not wanting to put too much into writing. He nodded and offered Andrew a reassuring smile.

“I’m fine, Andrew, honestly,” he said, glancing at MC. “We have been going over details regarding the case and making plans to move forwards. It’s one of the reasons I am here, actually. There is something you might be able to help us with.”

“Oh?” Andrew’s gaze slid reluctantly towards MC. “What can I do for you?”

“I was rather hoping that your expert eye could seek out information from the archives on MC’s behalf, as a favour to me,” he said carefully. “As you know, she can wield ancient magic, but she isn’t the first to do so. I was hoping you might find evidence of others. It’s not exactly common knowledge, and everything appears to be shrouded in mystery.”

Andrew studied MC with interest, curious despite his obvious nervousness at being in her presence. Leander hoped that by appealing to Andrew’s love of research, and it being a subject matter so intriguing, it would work in their favour. 

“You want me to open classified files and share information with…with MC?” Andrew asked, faltering on his words a little.

“With a criminal, you mean,” MC said, a cold smirk twisting her lips. She folded her arms and lifted her chin. “You can say it. There is no point trying to pretend it didn’t happen. I can promise you that any classified information you pass to me regarding my magic will remain a secret. I already have a dangerous man seeking me out because of what I can do, I definitely don’t want to encourage anyone else to do the same.”

A pink blush stained Andrew’s cheeks, and he scratched the back of his neck, shifting awkwardly. “Apologies, MC. I did not wish to offend,” he said. “I only hesitate because digging through old classified files might raise a few eyebrows if I’m not careful. The information could be dangerous in the wrong hands. Plus, I would need somewhere to start, a clue, perhaps. There are thousands upon thousands of files here in the archives, not to mention the library.”

“It would mean a lot to me if you could do this, Andrew. I would owe you one,” Leander said, a slight pleading edge to his voice.

He could feel MC’s eyes on him, knowing full well that he was going above and beyond his duty for her, and she knew it, too. He felt heat creeping into his own cheeks, but he stood firm and resolute, determined to do right by her. 

MC stepped forward, her gaze softening slightly towards Andrew. “I understand the risks,” she said, unfolding her arms, her voice losing its cold edge. “I can give you some clues on where to start from what I know already, but I would ask that whatever I tell you must remain between us. As you said yourself, this information is dangerous in the wrong hands. Can I trust you, Andrew? I hope we can trust each other.” 

The deep-rooted hunger for knowledge blazed in Andrew’s eyes. Leander had known him long enough to understand how excited he became at the prospect of learning about something new, remembering their conversations back in their school days during shared study sessions, and the times here at the Ministry working on cases together. The prospect of discovering the history behind ancient magic was surely tempting for the brilliant Ravenclaw, and his next words proved Leander’s theory.

“Alright, you have a deal,” he said, nodding. He even managed a shy smile in MC’s direction. “Tell me what you know, and I will see what I can find.”

“Brilliant. Thank you, Andrew,” Leander said, turning to look at MC. She met his eyes and returned his smile. He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. “Do excuse me for a moment. I shall leave you to speak with Andrew whilst I pay a visit to my desk. I need to check on some paperwork. I won’t be long, I promise.”

Leaving them both staring awkwardly at one another, Leander hurried off towards his desk, finding it as neat as he had left it only days ago. Fiddling with his tie, he took a seat and checked his in-tray, flicking through the parchments and marking some notes in a little book he carried. 

The delicate scent of perfume found his nose, and his desk creaked as Odessa McKinnon perched herself against the edge of it, her hand placed gently near his arm, her wrist adorned with an expensive looking bracelet. Looking up at her, he was greeted with narrowed eyes and a curious smirk.

“You have decided to make an appearance, then, Prewett,” she said, her gaze travelling slowly over him. He felt heat creep up his neck and resisted the urge to adjust his collar. “Where’s your little pet? I saw her walk in with you. She is looking well, you must be taking good care of her.”

The last time he had seen Odessa had been that night in the safe house, disappearing with MC in his arms and leaving her in a fit of temper. She no longer looked vexed, but there was a glint of something in her eyes that he couldn’t quite decipher. He sat up a bit straighter, smoothing his fingers down the front of his tie.

“Did you speak to Harrington?” He asked, deflecting her query about MC. 

Her smirk did little to hide the curiosity in her gaze. “If you are referring to the little issue of a leak, I think he is no closer to the culprit than he was when he came blustering in here the other day. If you ask me, there is probably more than one. It isn’t exactly unheard of, and when you think about it, these things work both ways. Rookwood has snitches in his own camp, divulging secrets to us. It’s obvious there will be those who return the favour.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” Leander frowned. “We all swore oaths to serve and protect. How could anyone go against that? Certainly not anyone who stands for loyalty and justice.”

“Oh, sweetie, I just love how honourable you are,” she said, moving her hand to his forearm. “You are a rare soul who truly stands for honour. It is commendable and one of my favourite things about you. I mean, look how seriously you have taken the role of being MC’s probation Auror. Most wouldn’t have gone to such efforts for the likes of her. I just hope she doesn’t let you down, Leander.”

He looked down at Odessa’s hand, her fingers caressing gently against the sleeve of his jacket. She was leaning closer, smiling softly at him, and he felt warmth bloom across his cheeks.

“All MC needs to do is get us closer to Rookwood,” he said, concentrating on the case rather than anything more personally linked to MC. “If she can do that, then she will have served the terms of her probation without letting any of us down. I’m just doing my job, McKinnon.”

“And you do it so well,” she said, leaning even closer, her eyes darkening. “Now that you have returned, perhaps we can arrange that drink we spoke about.”

The sound of the gentle clearing of a throat made them both turn, Leander’s face burning even hotter when he saw MC standing there watching them with narrowed eyes. He realised just how close Odessa had leaned in towards him and shifted in his chair, his hand reaching to adjust his tie as guilt flooded through him. Odessa smirked and took her time moving away from him, her hand lingering on his arm long enough for it to draw MC’s gaze towards it, her mouth tightening slightly. He could almost see her withdrawal into herself, that spark he had noticed dimming in her eyes.

“Pardon the interruption, Auror Prewett,” MC said coolly. “I have finished my interview with the research team. I thought I would come and find you, but I can always make myself scarce if you are…otherwise occupied.” 

“Oh, no…there’s no need for that,” he said, clearing his own throat before grabbing his little notebook and holding it up. The cold formality of her tone made his heart clench. “I think I am done here.”

“You look well, prisoner 2757. Life on the outside must be agreeable to you,” Odessa said, her voice like silk against a knife edge. Leander winced, but she only smiled wider. “I’m curious to see how things work out for you.” 

MC’s eyes were hard and cold as she glared at Odessa. “I’m not usually one for cliches and old sayings, but the one about the cat and what curiosity did to it seems rather apt right now.”

Leander stood quickly and adjusted his jacket, moving towards MC, feeling the tension in the air between the two girls. Feeling rather uncomfortable, he didn’t dare touch MC, merely holding his hand out in the direction they needed to walk. “Shall we?” 

“I’ll speak to you later about that drink, Leander,” Odessa said smugly, twirling a lock of glossy hair around her finger. “Do enjoy your afternoon.” 

They left the Auror Office in silence, MC walking with her back straight and stiff, her face hard and cold. She wouldn’t look at him and barely nodded her head as he held the door open for her. He bit his lip, not sure if he should apologise, or insist that there was nothing between himself and Odessa. One could argue it was really none of her business, but they had shared that fiery kiss in his kitchen. He didn’t want her to think he was a rake, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. This was new territory for him having two ladies to worry over, and he knew he had the potential to put his massive foot in it. 

“So, what now? Are we leaving?” She asked, her gaze moving around the long corridor, looking everywhere but at him. 

“I had thought of getting some supplies for lunch. We could take it down to the beach near the house, and maybe you could do some wand practice whilst we are there. Of course, if you wanted to practise alone, I would understand.” He glanced her way, trying to gauge her reaction, but she remained cool and distant.

“You keep leaving me unattended. You ought to be careful, Prewett,” she said. “Aren’t you worried I might betray you?”

Leander swallowed hard as they made a turn towards the lifts. Anxiety twisted behind his chest as he wondered if he was putting off the inevitable. She would pull away from him at some point, and maybe he ought to start accepting that. Maybe it was best to start putting the distance between them in order to prevent further confusion. It didn’t seem like an easy prospect, especially when he didn’t really want to.

“As I said earlier, MC. You are no longer a prisoner. You could walk away from me right now, and I would not be obligated to chase after you. I’ve just been trying to help you and give you the best start possible before throwing you at Rookwood’s mercy,” he said, barely keeping the disappointment from his voice. He took a steadying breath as he came to a pause before the lift, one hand grasping the handle. “I’d like to think you wouldn’t betray me, but all I can do is hope that you won’t. Either way, I’m here to help you. You can take it or leave it.”

“You mean I can just leave?” 

“If that’s what you would rather do,” he said softly, already preparing himself for her to do just that. “I can give you a time to meet me so we can exchange information as per your terms, and then you can walk away.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face, and he bit his lip again. He gripped the lift door handle tightly, his cheeks no doubt red from the constant blush that seemed to stain his cheeks around her company. It was hard to read her thoughts, her face still carefully blank. Pulling the door aside, he gestured for her to enter the lift. Stubbornly silent, she did so, dipping her gaze and stepping past him. 

This time, she braced herself against the wall, keeping a respectable distance between them as they lurched through the dizzying ride back towards the Atrium. He remained quiet, his teeth worrying at his lower lip as he agonised over mentioning Odessa, but people kept boarding the lift, and it wasn’t the time. He was also certain that she was going to leave, and the part of him that held a longing ache for something he could never have didn’t want to push her further away from him.

The walk through the Atrium was quiet, her shoulders still held with tension, her face pale and drawn as they neared the glow of the Floo fireplaces. She followed him towards the one they needed, and he paused, turning to give her a hesitant look. Was she going to ask to leave separately? If she did, he would have to keep his word and let her go. 

Without looking at him, her hand reached out and sought his, her cold fingers wrapping tightly around him as she moved closer. “I’m ready. Let’s go, Prewett.”

He looked down at their joined hands, something shifting behind his ribs that he was too scared to examine up close. He squeezed back firmly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he closed his eyes and pictured the rugged coastline of Cornwall, the idyllic Shell Cottage set against the heathland. She was still calling him Prewett, and her face still held that cool indifference, but she wasn’t running down the hallway away from him. She was still happy to go home with him. The relief flooded through him as he stepped forward into the green flames, and she followed, the power of the magic sucking them through the void.

Sebastian

Wincing at the burn of the whiskey as he swallowed it down, he eyed the pretty witch opposite him, his gaze travelling over a mouth he knew rather well, her lips curved into a teasing smirk as she stared back at him across the table inside the Black Rose bar. Sweet talking Luella around had been easier than he had expected, his smart mouth that had pissed her off the other day now making her eyes sparkle, seemingly placing him back in her favour.

“Another whiskey?” He asked, holding his empty glass up.

She twirled her glass on the table top and gave him a dark look through her lashes. “Perhaps we could take this one upstairs,” she murmured, her hand sliding across the scratched wood to brush her fingertips along the back of his hand. 

Sebastian felt his stomach muscles tighten, fighting the heat that stirred in his blood. It had been a while, but he wasn’t about to climb into bed with her again. He wasn’t made of stone, and of course, his body was going to react to a lovely woman offering him such pleasure, but he couldn’t. Not anymore. He withdrew his hand from the table top and out of her reach, his eyes glancing around them to see if anyone had noticed her suggestive touch.

“Do you want us to be found out?” He said, his voice hushed. “Daddy dearest will castrate me if he finds out, and I would rather keep my Crown Jewels intact.”

“You act as though you’ve already lost your precious jewels considering the lack of fun we’ve been having lately,” she huffed, leaning back in her chair. 

“Don’t sulk, darling. It doesn’t suit you,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’ll get that drink, shall I?” 

Luella watched him leave the table, his charming smile slipping from his lips as soon as he turned his back on her. It was becoming tiresome keeping up the pretence, but now that he was in this situation, he was kind of stuck with it until he could come up with a new plan.

Leaning on the bar, he rubbed his face with his hands, his eyes scratchy and tired from lack of sleep. He avoided his bed most nights, but whenever he did seek his pillow to lay his head down, restlessness stopped him from finding proper sleep. It was that, or it was the nightmares that left him sweating and trembling under his blankets chasing him from his bed. 

The sound of someone entering the bar made him turn his head, his eyes widening as the familiar shape of Ominis appeared around the door, his wand held out and blinking. Shocked to see his old friend in such a place, it was clear he was here for either Marvolo or him. Sebastian abandoned the idea of ordering another whiskey and hurried to Ominis’ side. 

“Hello, old friend,” he said quietly, his eyes scanning the bar to see who was watching and finding that most were giving them curious glances. “What are you doing here, Ominis? Everyone knows who you are.” 

Ominis looked annoyed and uncertain, and he clamped a hand around Sebastian’s arm. “Trust me, this is the last place I wish to be, but I came to find you,” he muttered. “Is there somewhere we can speak?”

“What is it? Is it Anne? Is she alright?” Panic gripped him, and he focused all his attention on Ominis.

“Anne is fine,” Ominis assured him, but his grip remained firm on his arm. “Not here. We need to leave.” 

“Come on,” Sebastian said, leading Ominis back out into the cobbled street. Walking around the corner, he glanced through the shadowed dark before Disapparating away from Knockturn Alley, where the very walls had ears that heard too much.

“Where are we?” Ominis asked as soon as they had their feet on solid ground again.

“Leicester Square, deep in Muggle territory where nobody will know us,” Sebastian said, standing close like a shield around Ominis. “Put your wand in your cane so nobody notices it.”

Ominis moved swiftly, adopting the gentleman’s cane that disguised his method of sight on Muggle streets. There was still the pinch of worry on his brow, and Sebastian was growing impatient. 

“What was so urgent that you wandered right into the viper’s nest?” 

Ominis sighed and shook his head. “I’m still not convinced that this is a good idea. I could get into trouble if I was discovered speaking out of office.”

Sebastian’s brows lifted with interest. “Out of office? Alright, you’ve got my attention. Surely, you won’t leave me hanging after that kind of statement.” 

Dressed in a fine black suit, his hair neat and his profile like classic marble under London’s gaslights, Sebastian assumed that Ominis had come from the Ministry. Knowing his role there, he waited expectantly for Ominis to speak. Ominis rubbed his hand against his chin and sighed again.

“Merlin, curse me, alright,” he said, wincing as he made the decision. “Just tell me one thing. How serious are you about bringing Rookwood down?”

“Deadly serious,” Sebastian said darkly, his heart in his mouth. “What do you know, Ominis?”

“It’s more a case of who I spoke to,” he said, his teeth catching at his lower lip. “I met her, Sebastian. MC. I spoke to her this morning.” 

Sebastian tried to draw a breath, a gasp, anything, but his lungs betrayed him. He stared at Ominis, lips parted. His hands reached to grip Ominis’ arms, holding him tightly. “Where? What did she say?”

“Let me go, you fool,” Ominis said, batting his hands away, scowling and scoffing. “She was at the Ministry this morning collecting her wand, and you were right. She was with Prewett.” 

Sebastian’s mouth became set into a grim line, his brows drawn down low. “I knew it!”

“Now, now, Sebastian. Before you get your wand all in a knot, you should be aware that Prewett has been ensuring MC receives the best care after leaving the prison. By her own mouth, she is doing well and feeling better. Prewett even left her alone with me so that we could talk. She is not his prisoner, Sebastian. The intentions are honourable.”

“Honourable? Pfft, I find that hard to believe,” Sebastian scoffed, pushing his hand through his hair. “Prewett has always had a thing for MC, and no doubt he is relishing having her so close. He lied to me when I asked him outright where she was, and I bet the smug prick was loving every minute of it. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was trying to bed her under the guise of being a good, little boy.”

Ominis arched one eyebrow, his mouth twisted with an ironic smirk. “Not everyone thinks as you do, Sebastian. You’ve spent too long rolling around in the gutter. And, even if MC did allow Prewett to court her, would that be so terrible? He is a respectable young man with good prospects. Perhaps that is just what she needs.”

Sighing in irritation, Sebastian clenched his fists and glared. “What does any of this have to do with Rookwood?”

“Ah yes, Rookwood,” Ominis said, his gaze becoming sly. “What if I told you that the Auror office plans to send a decoy into his ranks? They want to bring Rookwood down just as much as you do, and they are willing to plant a powerful weapon within the Ashwinder camp in order to do it. If it works, you could very well be brought down with them.” 

“Are you suggesting I cut my losses and get out? After all the effort I’ve put in!” Sebastian asked, incredulous. 

“No, Sebastian,” Ominis said, sighing in exasperation. “Although, that would solve a few problems if you did. No, what I am actually suggesting, and I can’t believe I’m doing so, is that you work alongside the Auror’s plans and get the best of both worlds.” 

“I’m not siding with no Auror scum,” Sebastian bristled, clenching his fists tighter. The image of Harrington dragging MC out of his arms that day sent a cold shiver down his spine. He would never forget it. Ever. 

“Technically, you wouldn’t have to,” Ominis said, tilting his head. “Think about it. You assist in bringing down Rookwood, and in doing so, you gain the protection of not being sent to Azkaban for your efforts. All you would have to do is assist with the weapon.” 

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he considered Ominis’ words. “And what is this weapon they seem so confident about?” 

Ominis smiled, a smug, knowing smile that made him look every inch the Gaunt he hated to be. “Why, it’s MC, of course. That’s why she was let out early. That’s why they want her fighting fit so they can send her into Rookwood’s ranks and cut him out from the inside.”

Sebastian felt his jaw drop, staring in disbelief as he tried to wrap his head around those words. “MC is turning spy for the Aurors?”

“After speaking with her today, she seems quite determined to succeed. She signed a contract of probation terms to seal the deal,” Ominis said, lifting his chin. “It made voting for her release all the more satisfying.” 

“You…you voted…” Sebastian huffed a shocked breath out through his mouth, his hands pressing against his forehead as he stared blindly around Leicester Square, not paying any attention to the busy pubs and music. 

“She wants revenge just as much as you do,” Ominis continued, his smirk still smug. “You know me, old friend, I may not have my sight, but I am pretty good at seeing between the lines when it comes to people. It’s not so much what she said, but how she said it. She will bring down Rookwood, and she isn’t afraid of how. She even asked after you, despite you leaving her to rot in that awful prison.”

“She did?” Sebastian’s heart leapt behind his ribs. “What did you say?”

“I told her the truth,” he said, with a little shrug, amusement tugging at his mouth. “That you're still the same degenerate running around causing trouble. I'm sure she will seek you out once she is ready. I don't think she has let go of you yet.”

“And why would she? I haven't let go of her,” Sebastian said, flares of hope thundering through his pulse points. “When she does come, I will be ready.” 

Ominis nodded, his face growing serious. “Just be careful, Sebastian. These are dangerous games at play. The only reason I am telling you all of this is because I would rather have you come out of it all alive.”

“I appreciate it, Ominis. More than you will ever know,” Sebastian said, a softer tone entering his voice. 

For the first time in a very, very long time, Sebastian felt a glimmer of hope kindle in his chest, his gaze dropping to the thin, red scar on his palm. Could it be bright enough to chase back the shadows that haunted him?

MC

The constant roar of waves filled her ears, and the sky was a canvas of deep oranges and pinks as the sun slid away for another day. The air was brisk, the sea breeze pulling at her braid as she thrust her arm towards the twilight sky yet again, her shoulders aching from the effort as her magic poured from the end of her wand in a blast of blue and white. The magic swirled and twisted, soaring up towards the sky in a writhing mass of power before splitting into a million fluttering wings. Fireflies of ancient magic danced on the breeze, drifting and dispersing across the beach. 

She had been out here for quite a while, relishing the freedom of being able to cast her spells and release the pent-up fire of her magic. With her wand in hand, she felt unstoppable, a sense of wild abandon making her cheeks flush and her adrenaline spike. Her education had been cut short, but she knew enough to be able to handle herself safely, despite the desperate tremor on the edge of her control. Ancient magic was powerful, and she kept a tenuous grip on it, heeding the memories she had witnessed in those pensieves of the witch, Isadora.

Pausing to catch her breath, MC pondered her brief conversation with Andrew Larson earlier that day and dared to hope that he managed to dig something new up from the Ministry archives. Despite his obvious nervousness in her presence, she had sensed his eagerness to discover the information, his tentative questions for her hinting at a deep curiosity. She could not deny the excitement at the prospect of hidden knowledge regarding her magic, and she knew she had Leander to thank for the chance to find it.

Leander.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she relaxed her shoulders, sitting down on the soft sand of the beach to stare out at the rolling waves of the great Atlantic Ocean. Flutters of uncertainty danced behind her ribs as she thought about Leander, her teeth catching at her lower lip as she remembered soft kisses that had quickly turned into flame, the lingering warmth left on her skin after he had touched a hand to her back or her arm. How could she ignore the way he looked at her? Oh, he tried to hide it, but it was there, and she was looking for it whenever she met his gaze, now.

There was only one way anything like that could end between them, though. Heartbreak. 

Closing her eyes, she hung her head downward, her arms balanced on her knees, her wand still firmly in her grip. Seeing him with Odessa had bothered her. It had clawed at the vulnerable scars behind her ribs, tearing at the softness she had hidden there, a softness she was developing for her Auror. Yes, hers. Because that is how she thought of him now. It had snuck up on her, caught her unawares, and now she had no choice but to look at it. 

Seeing that sly, smug woman put her hands on Leander, lean towards him like she had every right to claim him as her own, it made MC want to whip out her wand and blast the bitch across the desks of his office. Shaken by the depth of her discomfort, she had tried to keep her distance from him ever since, shocked at the clear burn of jealousy she was drowning in. She had no right, no claim. It had only been one kiss, and she had told him to stop. He owed her nothing.

And yet…

Opening her hand to reveal her palm, she looked down at the thin scar on her hand, tracing it with her finger as her eyes stung with unshed tears. Missing Sebastian had consumed her for so long, for years she had been utterly alone and lost in darkness, and she still lingered in those shadows.

Was it so terribly wrong to seek out some light?

She wanted to feel something other than empty and cold. She had stepped out of that prison, unsure of where she belonged, and she still felt like she was adrift. The only thing holding her down right now was Leander. He had held her, wiped her tears away, sheltered her…and when he had kissed her, the empty hollow behind her ribs had flooded with warmth.

Sebastian was somewhere out there, far away from here and working under Rookwood’s orders. It was in the case files Leander had shown her. He had been seen with Rookwood’s beautiful daughter, and even Ominis had said that Sebastian was on a path of self-destruction.

Had he fallen so far into darkness that he was out of her reach? She just didn’t know anymore. It scared her more than she wanted to admit that she may have lost her first love, the boy who had stolen her soul and bound it with his in blood. Now, he was a man that she feared she wouldn’t recognise. What if he was walking a path she didn’t want to follow? Perhaps Ominis was right, and she might need to make some choices for her own survival.

Alone and lost, it was tough to know where to start, but she needed to have some faith in herself. She had always been alone since she was a child, and this was no different. She had always relied on herself, and that hadn’t changed. She just needed to take the first steps.

Getting to her feet, MC trudged across the sand towards the cliff path that led back to the cottage. The sky had now darkened into a blue so deep it was almost black. The first stars of the night were blinking their brilliance, and the pale moon had shown her face. Lost in her own head, she didn’t see Leander until she was upon him, jolting at the sight of him leaning against the stone wall that surrounded the cottage garden with a glass in his hand. She gasped and put a hand to her chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, smiling softly.

“I didn’t see you there, I was…I was miles away,” she said, biting her lip and dipping her gaze. She had hardly spoken to him all afternoon, wrapped up in her own petty jealousy over Odessa. She eyed him through her lashes, fiddling with her wand before gesturing towards his glass. “A tipple before bedtime, is it?”

He tilted the glass slightly as he glanced at it, nodding. “It’s my father’s firewhiskey. There was a bottle in the kitchen cupboard. I thought it might help me sleep. Would you like one? I can pour you a glass.”

MC wrinkled her nose as she moved closer towards him, her earlier frostiness with him melting away. “I was never really one for whiskey,” she said, shrugging. “Maybe I could try a sip.”

“Sure, here,” he said, holding out the glass towards her.

She took a small sip, the liquid coating her tongue with spicy heat. Her eyes watered, and she coughed as it went down her throat, the burn tingling all the way to her stomach. Leander chuckled and took back the glass as she shook her head. “Nope, still not for me,” she said.

“Fair enough. I can make you some tea if you’d prefer that,” he offered.

She shook her head and moved to lean against the wall beside him. “I’m fine, thank you. I will take some water up to bed with me.”

“That was quite the show you put on down there,” he said. “Do you feel better now?”

“You were watching me?” She looked up at him as he nodded, brushing back strands of hair caught on the sea breeze. His hair was slightly dishevelled, and she wondered what it would be like to brush back his hair with her fingers. She was grateful for the cover of darkness as she blushed at the thought.

“It feels good to be able to cast magic again,” she said, looking down at her wand. “After discovering that I was a witch and beginning to learn about my magic, I felt quite lost without it.”

“I’m sure I would be at a loss without mine,” Leander said. “I’m glad you feel better. What with your wand back in your possession and your strength returning, I am sure you are almost ready to leave. How do you feel about all that?”

Gazing ahead at the darkened ocean, she slipped her wand away and sighed softly, feeling oddly exposed and vulnerable there under the stars with him. “Lonely,” she said, her voice low and tinged with sadness.

His silence made her turn her head to look up at him, the look in his eyes making that cavern in her chest twist with longing. 

“You’re not alone,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m here, remember? I will make sure that you will always be able to find me, no matter what happens.”

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she studied his face. That warmth was right there, and all she had to do was reach for it.

“What about McKinnon?”

He straightened, placing his glass down on top of the wall behind him, his face serious. He shook his head, his hand reaching for her, and then hesitating. “What you saw earlier, it was nothing. She flirts like that with everyone. There is nothing more than professional camaraderie between myself and Odessa. I would never…”

“Don’t…” She said, her voice cracking. She put her hand gently over his mouth to stop him, knowing that if he said too much, it might push them even further across a line that was already blurring so quickly.

His eyes burned with words left unsaid, his lips parted against her fingers, the warmth of his breath against her skin sending shivers through her. Her hand shifted against his mouth, her fingers lightly caressing against the soft, fullness of his lips. His breaths quickened, and she felt her pulse come alive. He was so warm, so soft. The temptation was crippling, but she would only hurt him in the end.

His long fingers curled about her wrist, holding her hand against his mouth as his lips pressed soft kisses against her fingertips, holding her gaze as he mouthed along towards her palm to press a firmer kiss there. She opened her mouth to speak, to stop him, but she wasn’t pulling away, and words failed her as he closed his eyes and pressed a lingering kiss against the pulse point at her wrist. He had to feel it against his mouth. He had to feel the rush and flutter of her blood as he held his lips against her like that. 

He lifted his head slowly, opening his eyes as he gently held her hand. “I try to hide it, but I think you know how I feel about you. I can’t explain it. You just drive me crazy. But, I’m not a fool. I know this isn’t what you want.” 

“I don’t know what I want,” she said, her honesty making her breathless. “I’m just this lost girl without a clue, and I’m so numb, Leander. It’s like I’m hollow, empty, and you deserve so much more than that.”

He looked pained, biting his lip as he looked out to sea, shaking his head as if trying to deny the truth. Reaching for her, she found herself pressed against the warmth of his chest, her cheek nuzzled against the soft wool of his jumper as he stroked her hair. To be held like she was fragile should have brought forward the stubbornness and pride she used as shields against emotional vulnerability, but she found herself clinging to him instead. The pressure of his embrace eased the ache in her chest, and she closed her eyes, savouring the feel of him, breathing in his scent and allowing warmth to seep through to her bones.

What harm could it do to borrow some of that unfailing stability he had? Just for a moment.

They stood there for a while in each other's arms, not speaking, and she felt the gentle press of his lips against her head a few times. She let him, her body so starved of human contact that she thought it might cause her pain to let go, but the air was growing chillier, and she shivered against the breeze. 

Reluctantly, she stepped from his embrace as he suggested they go indoors. They went about closing things down for the night, putting out the fire and drawing the curtains. When she moved for the stairs, she paused and turned towards him, placing her hand against his cheek with a soft smile.

“Goodnight,” she whispered, standing on tiptoe to press a kiss on his cheek that was dangerously close to his mouth. 

He didn’t seek more. He merely bid her goodnight back, his eyes full of all the things they had left unsaid.

….*….

Her fingers slid down the old wood of the bedroom door, nerves fluttering behind her ribs as she once again found herself standing in the hallway outside Leander’s bedroom in the middle of the night. She had to stop this. Loitering outside his room was madness, and this was the third night she had found herself here, debating the idea of knocking and crossing into unchartered territory. Tonight, she felt the hunger with a sharpness that made her ache, sleep eluding her as she went over every detail of the day in her mind. 

That kiss goodnight had left her wanting, his mouth so close, and yet not close enough. Standing there in just her nightgown, she shivered, so tired of being cold and empty. His arms felt too good wrapped around her, his chest the ideal place to rest her head…

Her sigh came out as a pained moan, and she brought her hand to her mouth, stifling the noise as she hesitated outside his door. She stared at the handle, her fingers reaching for it. This was crazy. It was inappropriate behaviour for a young lady to do such a thing.

The door clicked off the latch and swung inwards, her bare feet slipping quietly across the floorboards as she entered the darkened room. Closing the door gently behind her, MC turned and glanced around the bedroom. It was neat and tidy, clothes folded on a chair and shoes sat neatly to one side. The double bed claimed the centre, the blankets covering Leander as he slept. He had not moved, the soft sounds of his breathing filling the space. She should leave. She was invading his privacy.

Ignoring the sensible side of her mind, she moved closer towards the bed, pale moonlight highlighting the shape of Leander. Pausing, she took a moment to study him at rest, his hair falling haphazardly onto the white pillow. Her hand moved with a will of its own, her fingers sliding into soft strands of copper hair in a tentative caress. He stirred, his head shifting against the pillow, and then his eyes blinked slowly open.

“Sorry,” she whispered, withdrawing her hand. “It’s only me.”

Rubbing his eye, Leander pushed himself up onto an elbow, a frown creasing his brow. “MC…are you alright?”

“I can’t sleep,” she said, biting her lip. He was wearing a striped sleep shirt, and she would bet her last possession that he was wearing matching trousers beneath his blankets. He shifted to sit up, his hand grabbing the edge of the blanket.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No,” she said firmly, putting her hand over his to stop him from throwing the blanket back and getting up. He met her gaze, slightly confused and sleep dazed. Her heart thudded hard against her ribs. “Don’t get up. I…I was wondering…”

Her throat seemed to close up, words not forming as she stared at him. He looked so soft and sleepy, and yet the curve of his mouth and the defined line of his jaw were drawing her gaze, making her imagine things far more fiery and urgent. She eyed the strength of his neck, the width of his shoulders, his open collar revealing his throat, and a glimpse of chest. Fire curled within her, her hands desperate to reach out and find warmth. 

She could see the question in his eyes, but instead of speaking, she lifted her hand and traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips. Leaning forward, she admired the full pout of his mouth before pressing her own against it, claiming a soft but determined kiss as her fingers pushed deeply into his hair and gripped. Leander didn’t move at first, perhaps surprised, but he didn’t stop her as she pressed more kisses against his mouth. The emptiness in her chest bloomed with fire, spreading outwards and filling her with something real, something that wasn’t dark or a heavy weight dragging her down.

“MC,” he whispered between kisses, his lips responding through heavier breaths. “Are you sure…this is…what you want?”

Inside, she felt like she had been losing everything human about herself, lost in shadow and sadness with no way out. Somehow, Leander had slipped through the cracks of her shattered soul, and his light was seeping through her, waking her up and making her feel like there was hope. She ached to feel that in the physical sense, her skin tingling in anticipation of his touch, the desire to feel his palms sliding over her flesh making her certain that this was exactly what she needed right now.

Cupping his face, her mouth reluctant to leave the plush softness of his, she brushed her lips against him, sighing softly, her body giving in to its demands. “Yes,” she breathed, sliding her tongue out to swipe it across his lower lip as she met his eyes.

Strong hands gripped her waist, and she moaned into his mouth as he pulled her down onto the bed with him, their kiss deepening until she was adrift on a wave of flickering flames. She had given in to temptation and was now lost in the feel of his hands and his mouth, her curves pressed close against the hardness of his body. As he cupped her hips, urging her against him, her nightgown sliding up her thighs, she knew there would be no turning back this time.

To be continued...

Tagging: @evaslytherpuff @eternalremorse @writing-intheundercroft @marketfreshfics @loving-him-was-red13 @slytherin-paramour @sevprince-91

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #leander prewett x mc #leander prewett #blueraineshadows #blood bound

[inventors-fair]

Outstanding Charges: Crime Winners ~

Our winners this week are @corporalotherbear, @curiooftheheart and @izzet-always-r-versus-u!

@corporalotherbear — Raucous Celebrators

For a common design, this is a pretty good corner case, and once more I'm pleased with the kind of designs that Battlebond 2HG play has to offer. The ability to confer with a teammate is one of the best advantages that 2HG has over other formats, and even then, in Commander or similar formats the ability to cast two spells and get a free Shatter isn't anything to shake a stick at. Situational, yes, but necessary—in a way that probably comes up more often than not in the formats where it'd be played.

I think this is one of those cards as well where the name, flavor text, and abilities give rise to an idea of the art and mood without having to explicitly spell it out. I can quite easily see the brightly painted faces and the hooting-slash-hollering that would be taking place here. We don't need to see the sighing Sylvia or even the aftermath of the destruction; the implication of an arena already in the process of being decimated is enough. It gives a little bit of humanity to the world, in the sense of connections between our Earth's sports fans and the crowd here rushing the stands. I really love how you've got that subtle story there that's funny, flavorful, and quite polished overall. You know, it just struck me: this card can show either the joy of a winning team, OR the anger of a losing team. Great work.

@curiooftheheart — Jaywalk

I was tempted to just put "10/10 no notes" and have that be the end of the commentary. I've never laughed so hard at a submission, and I really have nothing to add that this card doesn't already demonstrate. Perfect name, perfect vibe, perfect modes, perfect flavor text. I think when I shared this in with the other judges, Florence mentioned that this pedestrian was having a really bad day if they're getting hit with every vehicle at the same time.

Maybe there's something to say about limited? I dunno, it's a removal spell in the right shell and a perfectly adequate combat trick otherwise. Perhaps there's something to be said about the "crime" aspect being, like, situational, but that's not eve what this contest was about. You demonstrated perfectly the kind of fine balance between dark humor and utility. I'll be thinking about this submission and sharing it around for quite some time.

@izzet-always-r-versus-u — Graverobbing

And today I learned about the word "fossor!" I love learning new words, and this card's pretty standard for what we're looking for in a way that elevated it with the other kinds of grave-themed submissions; there were a few this week, which I should've expected, honestly. What I like about this card in particular is the versatility of it and the simplicity that comes from the choices. You gotta have creature cards in graveyards, but maybe you only need one. Double Raise Dead ain't nothing to shake a stick at, but you need the double black pips, so there you go—and blockers slash bodies is important as well.

This one is on the higher end of complexity, but in a world where multi-paragraph commons exist (looking at you, Sticky Fingers), this one isn't the hardest to grok, in my opinion. You gotta pick creatures, yours go back to hand and your opponents' make Zombies. Ain't so bad, right? It could be an uncommon, but that would be situational with the set's gist. Flavor text here is fun, too—it's worded well and reads great. Actually, I love how the Imperial aspect speaks to the nature of the world where the political positions have their backstabbingly-oriented nature no matter where you are. That's how you speak to a greater world without massive amounts of exposition. Phenomenal job overall.

Runners coming up! @abelzumi

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #inventor's fair #winners #commentary #crime contest

[artificialkids-2k23-official]

The results are IN, gang, but before we crown our winner, let's get a big congratulations for our runners up! Penny?

(pause for applause and raucous cheering)

And now, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, noble lumpkins and illustrious potentates, I give you:

YOUR WINNER

HATSUNE! MIKU!

(pause for even more raucous cheering)

Thank you to everyone who showed up for this tournament, it was a blast to run and I hope it was a blast to follow.

For those of you who are still keen to vote for artificial kids, stick around! I intend to get the rest of the losers' bracket up this week. If you still want to vote in a Certified Werewolf poll, I've got one in the beginning stages over at @crossovernonshipstournament!

See you around, everyone! o7

#hatsune miku #miku hatsune #miku #vocaloid #tumblr brackets #tumblr polls #tumblr tournaments #artificial kids bracket #definitely real kids bracket

[flightpolling]

Flight Rising Mimic Melee! Round 1

The Top 2 winners from this poll will go on to the next round!

#flight rising #flight polling #mimic melee

[scarletttries]

Lip Service (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x Reader

Info: Fluff, gender neutral reader (who wears lip gloss, which I know is traditionally feminine so just a warning if that is triggering), reader chugs a beer and a bit of alcohol mentioned in a party context.

Word Count: 1.6k

Author's Note: I had this concept in my head, and just couldn't not write it, so enjoy! Also I feel like a smutty second part of this really writes itself so let me know if you would want that, or feel free to send other Eddie Munson / Steve Harrington headcanons to my inbox 🥰💕

Lip Service

To say that Eddie Munson felt a certain tension between the two of you, was like saying there was a certain tension between a match and gasoline. There was a magnetic energy that filled the air whenever your bodies passed in the hall, one that threatened to pull him into you with no room for recourse. He felt it when you returned the smile he subcounciously gave you any time you entered a room. He felt it in the one class you shared a desk, your hand so close he easily cover it with his own at the slightest sign of interest. But more than anything, he felt that warm, stirring spark whenever he glanced at your lips. Whether you were talking to him despite the looks from your friends, smiling across the sports field as he headed into the woods to avoid gym class, absentmindedly chewing the end of your pen as a teacher droned on, or his personal favourite, putting on lip balm - Eddie found himself captivated by the gentle curves of your lips, the welcoming shape of them hung on your face like art in the finest gallery, like everything would be alright if they just brushed against his once.

And so, once again on this evening, Eddie Munson found himself staring hopelessly at your smile.

It was a standard evening in Hawkins for Eddie. Some rich kids were having a party, and he was only sent the address so he could supply them with something a little stronger than beer. After doing a little business Eddie started to stroll through the meandering corridors, filled with tipsy kids laughing at nothing and leaning in closer to whisper over the deep bass pouring out of an over priced sound system. As he stepped towards the kitchen he heard the low echo of chanting, stepping towards it cautiously, the victim of too much of popular kids aggression in the past. But as he entered the brightly tiled room, a familiar smile spread across his face as he saw you, stood on a kitchen counter with two of the guys from the basketball team. You were smiling confidently, seemingly unphased by the rumbling chant which had now turned into an impending countdown, and unaware of your admirer watching adoring from the doorway. As the countdown reached it final numbers Eddie realised what he was watching as a can of beer was tossed to each of the counter competitors, who immediately pierced their prizes bringing the drinks hurriedly to their mouths. The crowd was chanting your name above all, the clear favourite in this race, despite the over confident challenges from the jocks. Eddie willed himself to join in, to chant your name, ignoring his usual need to avoid the attention of a crowd like this, but before he could join the raucous noise the race was over, your can empty and crushed dramatically in your hands as you took a victorious bow, the others still choking down their malty struggle. Your confident smile returned as you hopped down from the counter and your friends clapped you on the back, unsurprised by the outcome. Eddie could tell by the dejected looks of your competitors that this wasn't the first time you'd beaten them at this game, and it wouldn't be the last as you grinned and giggled, shaking each of the runners up hands politely. Eddie couldn't help the blush spreading across his smiling cheeks as he watched you walk towards another doorway, thinking that your mouth seemed to have yet another talent.

He skirted around the crowd of teenagers left in the kitchen, new drinking games starting to take shape over the marble island, and found you standing in a quieter hallway at the back of the house. You stood in the soft, lamp lighting, concentrating on your reflection in a large antique mirror, carefully reapplying a layer of shiny lipgloss. Eddie stepped out behind you, unsure of what to say, heart hammering in his chest whenever he had even a moment alone with you. You caught his eyes reflected in the mirror and smiled, pausing your precise movements for a moment, speaking to his reflection.

"Hey Eddie! Did you get here in time to see my victory?" You asked happily, a little giggly from the quickly downed beer, but above all happy to see your favourite big, brown-eyed, metalhead. You could tell Eddie had been wanting to make a move on you for a while, his hand hovering close to yours as you walked through halls, not to mention the number of times he'd driven you home from school because 'it looked like it was going to rain any second'. And you certainly didn't mind being the object of his affection, his devotion matched only by his kindness to anyone who got to know him.

"Like I'd ever miss a chance to see two jerks get taken down a peg. Seems like you have a super power I didn't know about (y/n)." He beamed back, matching your smile as he watched you put the final touches to your perfect, glistening smile. He gulped nervously before he ventured, "Your lip, uh, stuff looks nice." He shifted awkwardly as he turned to gauge for your response, wishing he had paid more attention when Harrington had tried to teach him how to flirt. To his disbelief you smiled again, your nose scrunching at the compliment in a way that made his heart feel like it had a soft blanket wrapped around it.

"Thanks Eddie - I always use the same brand, but this is a new flavour and I'm not too sure on it yet." You turned to face him as you spoke, watching the slight strain in his expression as his fought the desire to stare solely at your perfectly painted grin.

"Well I think it looks good. What flavour is it?" He fixed his gaze to your eyes as you stepped slightly towards him, thankful that no-one else had stepped this far into the house, breaking the almost unbearable tension between you both. He was sure he saw a glint in your eye he hadn't seen before as you took another step closer, pursing your lips against each other before smiling again,

"Guess?" You said teasingly, Eddie's brain stalling at the mere thought of the taste of your lips, unsure of what he was supposed to say next.

"How am i-" Was all he got out before you pressed your lips carefully to his, his face freezing in reaction to finally feeling its gentle embrace. Far too quickly for the butterflies stirring inside him, you pulled your lips away, stepping back and looking up at him with an expression so innocent that it almost made him doubt you had really kissed him at all.

"Any guesses?" You asked sweetly, getting a truly blank expression in return from Eddie, who had all but forgotten the little game you were playing. He shook his head softly, brain finally kicking in as he processed the incredible feeling still lingering on his lips. He could see a slight smirk ghost over your lips as a wide grin formed on his, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips as he looked back at you with all the fondness in the world,

"Not a clue. Can I conduct more research?" He asked with a smile, ignoring the gnawing the doubt that this was all some cruel joke being played on him. But as you stepped back toward him, nodding happily, emanating warmth the way you always did when Eddie was smiling down at you, he found the reassurance needed for his hand to fall to your waistline, pulling your lips back against his. You could feel the smile he was fighting back as your arms wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss as your fingers played with strands of his hair absentmindedly. His hands moved from their firm hold of your waist to rub your lower back, pulling you tightly against his chest, scared if he let you go this moment might slip away entirely.

"(Y/n)!" You heard the shout of your best friend coming from the bathroom down the hall, breaking the sweet spell this night had you both under. Smiling apologetically at Eddie as you separated your forms, you called back,

"Yeah, I'm here! Are you okay?"

"No! I don't feel so good, can we go home now?" Your friend cried loudly enough through the hall you were sure half the party heard.

"Be right there babe!" You called back, before softly taking Eddie's hands in yours. Before you could excuse yourself he asked hopefully,

"I could drive you?" Not wanting to be away from you after the perfect interaction. You smiled but shook your head,

"That's okay, I drove us here and I've only had one beer so I can take us - plus I'm staying at their house tonight so best to get them home without any distractions," Eddie was sure you winked on the final word, just enough encouragement for him to blurt out,

"Can we do this again sometime?" You squeezed his hand softly before releasing it, Eddie's stomach dropping alongside his hand, until you answered playfully,

"I'd be disappointed if we didn't. I have a lot of lip gloss flavours for you to not guess." You planted a final soft kiss on Eddie's lips, a last taste of heaven before you turned and jogged off to find your friend, Eddie calling out behind you,

"It's a date!"

#one shot #writing #fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #stranger things eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things headcanons #stranger things

[doomedandstoned]

DISASTROID Reveal Striking 4th Full-Length, ‘Garden Creatures’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Get ready for full-on galactic riffing, energetic rhythms, with moments of interstellar insanity. This is DISASTROID and their latest record, 'Garden Creatures' (2024) -- a swirling blend of colors drawn from a dynamic palette of psychedelic, grunge, desert, noise, and math rock influences.

This fourth full-length outing from the SFO band begins with the title track and is presented with rumbling force and jagged rhythms juxtaposed with clean, earnest singing and smooth melodic lines from frontman/guitarist Enver Koneya. At times the vocals soar like the pleas of some jerky cosmonaut thrust into the unknown vastness of outer space. Braden McGraw's drums thunder and churn like the roaring ocean. Travis Williams' bass is warm and pulsating.

Enver's guitar and Travis' bass trade barbs on "Stucco Nowhere," an ode to being stuck in a life of sameness and misery ("burning out within your head"). The singing builds to a crescendo, perhaps summoning sheer force of will to shake off the spell of mediocrity. There are some dreamy vocal harmonies that haunt overslept dreams, and finally a cry of frustration and despair to be set free from the shackles of it all.

"Mama says I need some help," laments Enver in "Figurative Object." The guitars chug with rocketing force, but often enter the realm of disorienting dissonance. This tendency towards the strange and uncanny continues in "Backwards Sleeping" and feels like a night of tossing and turning ("losing sleep for all that we have done"), complete with trippy guitar effects, rhythmic jolts, and ghostly droning.

"24" is fuzzy as all get-out, with screeching guitar hooks, unconventional rhythmic structure, and a misty hue of sadness in the vocals. Then "Hold Me Wrong" is like a fever dream, with a persistent bass groove, strumming and picking on the guitar, and exhausted pleas to "hold me tight, hold me right."

The penultimate song, "Light 'Em Up" is like a hallucination straight out of Blade Runner, with sounds and samples flying about us like fugitive visions. This is another where the bass is so integral to giving us a feeling of movement and cohesiveness in this shapeshifting world. The drumming here, as throughout the record, is stalwart and determined, whilst the riffmaking ranges from raucous to delirious. The record ends on a short banger, a riotous number "Jack Londonin'" with punk, noise, and math overtones.

Disastroid's Garden Creatures was recorded and produced by Billy Anderson and is releasing on Heavy Psych Sounds this weekend, February 23rd, on a spectacular variety of vinyl variants (get it here). Stick it on a playlist with The Melvins, Red Fang, Fatso Jetson, Kook, and Soundgarden.

Give ear...

SOME BUZZ

San Francisco veterans Disastroid have been serving up sludgy, grunge-infused stoner rock for the better part of a decade now, refining a sound that weaves heavy riffs together with angular guitar lines, odd time signatures, and hazy walls of fuzz. As influenced by 90's noise rock as they are by modern psych, doom, and post-metal, Disastroid delivers thick, satisfying stoner rock stomp while also embracing layers of noise, tripped-out feedback, and unpredictable song structures.

The current lineup of singer/guitarist Enver Koneya, bassist Travis Williams, and drummer Braden McGraw coalesced in 2011. They’re united by a desire to make heavy music that's loose instead of mechanical, a motivation to explore methods that make them sound bigger and more varied than a traditional rock trio, and a shared affection for the Amphetamine Reptile back-catalog. Thematically, their songs steer clear of genre cliches, touching instead on scattered aspects of modern life: technology fatigue, immigration, nuclear deterrence, the monotony of work, the existential dread of aging. Despite the subject matter, Disastroid never take themselves too seriously, injecting their live shows with an infectious sense of humor and their songwriting with math-rock quirks.

Disastroid’s latest outing, Garden Creatures, is a record about the darkness in the hidden corners of suburban landscapes — sinister overgrown gardens, secret collections kept in basements, the crime just beneath the surface, the pervasive loneliness under a veneer of normalcy. Accordingly, it’s a dark and atmospheric record, trading the stripped-down approach of 2020’s Mortal Fools for a thicker, heavier, and more layered sound. Legendary producer Billy Anderson (Sleep, Melvins, Neurosis) builds mixes that range from dark and dreamy to a thick, sludgy crunch, slowly pulling the listener through a range of sounds and textures, making sure things stay interesting. Singer/guitarist Enver Koneya's vocals are soulful and sometimes haunting, drifting above Disastroid’s characteristically off-kilter, grunge-influenced riffs.

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

#Disastroid #San Francisco #California #heavy rock #progressive metal #noise #math rock #Heavy Psych Sounds #D&S Reviews #Doomed and Stoned

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

the wrath of a gentleman pirate

- - - PLEASE SEE AO3 FOR TAGS AND WARNINGS - - - 

Just because Stede won’t get his hands dirty, doesn’t mean he won’t take a stand against injustice.

You can read it on AO3, here

The room wasn’t anything fancy, but it had a touch of charm to it. A large table made out of solid mahogany sat in the centre of the room, bolted to the wooden floorboards so that it didn’t move if the ship were to hit rough waters. Atop the table lay a pristine table runner made of white silk, embroidered with the emblem of the Royal Navy and decorated with fine stitches of gold thread in elegant and intricate patterns and filigree.

The British officers sat around the table, sharing uncomfortable looks with one another as they tried to ignore Stede’s men who stood nearby.

The Captain of the British Navy crew sat at the head of the table. He was dressed in his bold blue uniform, the jacket of which was embroidered with yellow along the opening and gold ornaments. He wore a powdered wig that stood out against his sea-beaten, wrinkled face and bushy dark brows like a turd would stand out in a punchbowl.  

Stede had long given up such frivolities. He, himself, was dressed in a neat jacket made of blue-grey fabric that had a subtle pattern woven into it, neat trousers, and a cotton shirt. His sandy-blonde hair was curled back from his face. No frills, not ornaments, no pretending.

“What have you been up to, Bonnet?” the captain asked.

Stede took a sip of his wine before setting the glass down to answer, “I believe the word you would use is ‘privateering’.”

The captain chuckled as he raised his glass of wine to his lips. His eyes darted around the room, taking in each of Stede’s men. He cleared his throat.

“You have… quite the crew,” he said, the meaning of his words hidden behind his masqueraded charm.

“Yes, I do,” Stede replied honestly, smiling proudly at his crew. “Great men, each and every one of them.”

“Where did you find them?”

“Many of them have served on ships like this before, among crews such as yours,” Stede replied, not really answering the question—he was hardly going to tell a captain of the British Navy where to find the pirates they were hunting.

“I’ve never had any of them act such dignity or civility. I must say, you’ve taught them well,” the captain complimented. He let out a boisterous laugh as he added, “I dare say, you’ve civilized the savages.”

The other officers joined in with the raucous laughter.

“Me? No,” Stede said, his voice humble as he brushed the comment aside. The officers fell quiet. “I haven’t taught them anything. It was you and your kind who taught them what they know.”

The room fell silent. The captain looked at him with a confused and bewildered expression. The other Navy officers exchanged questioning looks.

“Well, you see…” Stede rose from his chair at the other end of the table. He put his hands behind his back and stepped out from behind his seat. “It was you and your kind who took them from their homes and brought them into our world,” Stede explained, slowly pacing around the room—circling the officers who sat at the table. “You taught them our language. You put them to work where they learnt their work ethic. You taught them what it is to be enslaved, and as such you taught them the meaning of freedom and liberation.”

A few officers smiled smugly—a few even turned to the crew ad nodded curtly as I to say ‘you’re welcome’. Stede’s crew indulged them, offering kind smiles and courteous nods in return.

“You taught them how to weather the worst conditions—freezing cold, sweltering heat, starvation, dehydration, sleep deprivation,” Stede continued.

He made his way around the end of the table where the captain sat.

“You taught them how to make a man fear for his life.”

The softness of Stede’s voice had disappeared, a cold sternness adding an edge to his tone that struck each man to their core.

The room fell silent.

“You taught them how to beat and torture a man until he is on the brink of death but deny him the release of eternal sleep.”

He watched the captain swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing against his ascot.

“You taught them how to make a man bleed and beg for his life.”

He finished his circuit of the table and stopped by the grand double doors that led out of the dining room, a wicked glint in his sea-blue eyes as he looked at each of the officers, one at a time.

A heavy tension settled over the room, palpitating and hot as the officers tried not to make eye contact with Stede’s crew.

Stede smiled and shrugged half-heartedly as he said, “All I taught them was to take what they’re due.”

He turned to the doors, pushing them open.

“Oh,” he said as an afterthought, pausing in the doorway. He turned back to the room. “I also taught them how to fire a gun.”

There was a flash of a wicked smile as Stede left the room.

The officers’s eyes widened with realisation.

Before they could react, an eruption of gunshots split the air.

Stede waited outside the room, listening as the bodies slumped forward on the table or hit the ground with a solid thwack. The bitter metallic stench of blood mingled with the thin haze of smoke and gunpowder in the air.

He couldn’t help but smile as he quietly said to himself, “And I taught them well.”

#our flag means death #our flag means death fanfic #our flag means death fanfiction #our flag means death fic #ofmd #ofmd fanfic #ofmd fic #ofmd fanfiction #the wrath of a gentleman pirate #gentleman pirate #stede bonnet #please see ao3 for tags #one shot #short one shot #ofmd one shot #ofmd short one shot #our flag means death one shot #our flag means death short fic #our flag means death short one shot #ofmd short fic #text post

[antisocialxconstruct]

an obligatory First Meeting between Maksim and Ilya... ~1.9k but I'll probably add more to this later to actually round out the run they're being sent on :3c

---

A sudden burst of laughter startles Maksim back into the moment as he walks, alerting him to the fact that he is no longer alone on the streets. That would hardly be unusual once the evening crowds start to pour in, but at this odd pre-dusk hour he had apparently allowed himself to become too comfortable with the nearly empty sidewalks. He glances up as he turns a corner, meets the eye of two people conversing from either side of a banged up motorbike. Their conversation tapers off as he passes and he bristles, interpreting the silence as scrutiny and fixing his gaze dead ahead.

You don’t belong here. The thought blossoms up from the back of his own mind to manifest as a judgment passed on him by his onlookers as he leaves them behind. It’s a senseless bit of paranoia, the fact that he’s here at all should be proof enough that he’s at least as familiar with the shadows as anyone else who would congregate around Casales. This is hardly some tourist slum sitting on the metaphorical cusp of the shadows, with only just enough grunge and grime to feel authentic to bored corpo clientele looking for cheap thrills. The trouble is those are the kinds of crowds Maksim really knows how to navigate–doubletalk and coy smiles and polite laughter just come naturally by now. But they’re not the kinds of crowds that will pay real money for the sort of work he actually does.

Not that this run will exactly be a windfall.

-

“Three thousand? That won’t last me the month.”

“Then I’ll be happy to speak with you again in a few weeks.” Violet smiles and folds eir hands on the desk in front of em, meeting Maksim’s glower with pleasant impassivity. When he doesn’t back down ey add, “I’m not sure why you expect me to trust you with a higher payout without any evidence of your competence. Anyone can walk into my office with a gun and a bad attitude but that doesn’t mean they know what they’re doing.” A pause, which Maksim has the distinct impression is just for effect. To let eir argument sink in. “You won’t even give me the names of your last team.”

Maksim grimaces, biting the inside of his lip as his gaze slides off of em. The truth is he hasn’t run with anyone since the warehouse in NYC, and he’s acutely aware that a scuttled job, two dead runners, and a very dissatisfied syndicate don’t make for the best record. Nor does a hasty road trip clear to the other side of the continent. Nor does refusing to disclose any details at all, unfortunately. Violet has every reason not to want to test him on anything with real stakes, not when eir reputation as a dependable fixer is on the line.

On the end of a defeated sigh he finally says, “Fine. Give me the details.”

-

The first relevant detail is that this is a two-person job, and that his prospective teammate should be meeting him at Casales. A basic datagrab still needs a decker to do most of the real work, and ultimately Maksim will only be there to play lookout and to shoot straight if things turn hostile. Not exactly a glamorous entrance into the San Francisco shadows, but an easy one.

He pushes open the unassuming double doors with CASALES buzzing overhead in blocky yellow neon, only to feel immediately assaulted by the bar’s atmosphere. It seems to hover somewhere halfway between a sports pub and a rock club, lit up in shades of red and orange that fail to make the concrete floors and metal fixtures of the bar and indoor balcony feel warm or homey, and compete with the cooler colors scattered across the far end of the space by a wall of screens all playing a dizzying array of different programs. Raucous conversation mingles with aggressive music piping through the bar’s speaker system, neither quite  loud enough to drown out the other, so that taken together it’s just a lot of meaningless noise. Maksim is at least grateful to see that the stage at the room’s center, obviously outfitted for live performances, is empty.

It’s not a big space, reduced all the more by the stage, screens, and generous length of the bar, and it only takes a momentary scan of the modest crowd for Maksim to match Violet’s description to his counterpart–a lanky elf with choppy auburn hair seated at the bar, lights glinting off what looks to be an extensive array of cybernetic work up the length of their arms as they carry on an animated discussion with the human beside them. Maksim picks his way around a handful of other patrons, coming in close enough to make out their conversation just as the human rises to his feet with an angry huff and the elf barks out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Go ahead man,” they crow, “try it and see what h-”

“Naspok,” Maksim cuts in, just to test out the name he was given. The elf turns to shoot him a look, but Maksim only has a split second to read the derisive curl of their lip before he sees the other man move, and another split second to plant a hand on the elf’s back and shove them forward the couple inches it takes for the human’s punch to go wide. Naspok shrugs him off without a word to refocus on their assailant, grabs the man’s extended wrist in one hand and the half-empty beer glass in front of them in the other, then rises from their stool in one fluid movement as they swing the glass around straight into the man’s face and send him staggering back with a yelp. Maksim barely has time to even question if he should step in before they’ve got a fistfull of the man’s shirt collar and they’re winding up to make an even worse mess of his face.

It’s in that instance that a sharp “Hey!” reaches them from the other side of the bar. Both Maksim and Naspok look up to see one of the two bartenders, facing them with a stern frown and one hand drifting down below the bartop. Maksim wonders if it’s a panic button or a gun hidden there. Either way, probably best that he didn’t try to insert himself into the scuffle in front of him, and he takes a slow step back just to better separate himself from it now. The elf relaxes their posture slightly, apparently uninterested in testing their luck either–or else they already know better, since the next words out of the bartender’s mouth are “we’ve just been through this last week, you keep wasting our glassware and I’m having you banned.”

Naspok sighs dramatically and straightens, loosening their grip on the human’s collar and letting him slump to the floor where he immediately shuffles away and staggers to his feet. A couple of servers step in to usher him through a door toward the back of the building. Maksim isn’t able to get a good assessment of just how much of his face is shattered glass now, but it seems like a safe bet he’ll have a few dramatic new scars to commemorate the night. “Laura would have let me hit him a couple times at least,” Naspok remarks.

“Laura doesn’t work Thursdays,” the bartender replies flatly.

“Right… And I didn’t even get to finish my drink.” Naspok grumbles as Maksim shifts his attention back to them. They glance down at their hands before idly wiping them on their shirt, and whether it’s beer or blood they’re trying to rid themself of it disappears against the dark fabric. Then they turn to Maksim with what might have been a winning smile under almost any other circumstances, asking simply, “you buying the next round?”

Maksim blinks, caught just a bit off guard by finally being addressed, but fires back “no” without missing a beat. Then when it looks like Naspok might actually argue with him he adds quickly, “can we talk outside?”

“I think that might be for the best,” the bartender offers, before apparently deeming the situation resolved and moving off to speak with another patron. Naspok favors their back with one last contemptuous glance before giving Maksim a brief once-over.

“You’re Avos?” they ask, stepping around him and moving back toward the entrance. He falls into step behind them.

“That’s right.”

“Hm.” Once they’re both out on the street, where the sun has begun to drift toward the horizon and the surrounding buildings are casting long, lazy shadows, Maksim lets out a slow breath as if he’d been holding it the entire time he was inside. But Naspok is giving him another, more pointed look, and he has to fight not to recoil out from under it, assuring himself that he’s imagining the momentary spark of recognition behind their eyes. There’s no reason anyone this far from New York would still be talking about him. Right? “I thought you’d be taller.”

That one leaves him properly disoriented for a second. Glancing down at himself, he stammers, “I- what?”

“Well when Violet mentioned my muscle on this job was a troll I was thinking, y’know…” Naspok raises one hand, indicating a point at least a foot above their own head.

“У бля…” Maksim sighs and rolls his eyes, fishing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his coat pocket. “I’m not your muscle,” he insists, electing to focus on the part of their comment he can actually argue against. Naspok’s expression still cracks into a satisfied grin.

“Mm, I think you are,” they insist, their tone sing-song. It’s only the fact that he’s in the middle of lighting a cigarette that stops Maksim from cursing them out more emphatically, but a flat glare doesn’t do much to stop them from pressing on, “you can’t do a datagrab without someone who knows how to grab data which means you’re there to back me up.”

Maksim studies them for a moment through the stream of smoke that leaves his parted lips. Now that he can hear them without the bar’s sound pollution, it occurs to him that there’s a marked familiarity to the way they talk–the way they swallow their vowels, hit some consonants hard and others barely at all. There’s a texture to their accent that isn’t purely Russian, but Maksim knows the fingerprints his mother tongue leaves on spoken English. That might have been enough to engender some affinity… if he wasn’t already convinced they were unfit to work with him. “You also can’t do a datagrab if you go in alone and a security guard puts a bullet in your head. Anyone can plug in a shotgun.”

Ilya shifts their posture slightly and hooks their thumbs into their pants pockets, looking entirely undisturbed by his response. If anything, they look entertained by it. “You want to go find someone who can write you a working shotgun then and do this alone?”

“Honestly it’s already tempting, but I don’t have the time for that.” Or the nuyen, but he’s not about to admit to that level of desperation. “Violet also said you would have the building’s layout and security measures.”

For the first time something flits across Naspok’s features that Maksim might be willing to call uncertainty. Maybe even embarrassment. It doesn’t last long. “I will,” they say, tone languid and unconcerned. “I’m making the handoff tomorrow. You can come if you want.”

#shadowrun #ghost city #mine #maksim girard #ilya kasharin #still kinda funny to me that I sent this to Vartan and they were immediately like 'hey I think Maksim might be a little autistic' #and I was like oh......... maybe so 🤔 #rom fiction

[cyronite-fr]

Night of the Nocturne 2022 Haul 🖤

So I had a goal to get at least 500 Strange Chests to open for Notn this year, without buying any, and I did it! I wasn’t as active as I would have liked to be this year but I am still happy with my haul!! Any chests I got after the 500 I sold (I didn’t keep track of my earnings from selling chests though lol). 

Here is my haul from opening the Strange chests 🥰

Total Nocturne Eggs: 52

Total Treasure: 15024

Specialty

Breed Change: Nocturne x1

Primary Gene: Fern x7

Secondary Gene: Paisley x5

Scene: Enchanted Dungeon x4

Scene: Strange Chests x6

Scene: Witch’s Kitchen x18

Tertiary Gene: Smirch x2

Vista: Conjurer's Hat x2

Vista: Gossamer Flame x4

Vista: Jester x1

Vista: Plasmpool Armor x3

Vista: Snarling Mimic x1

Vista: Spectral Shroud x4

Vista: Spidered Seat x2

Apparel

Basic Book Collection x4

Black Candle Cascade x8

Candles Cascade x13

Conjurer's Cobwebs x2

Conjurer’s Cloak x5

Conjurer’s Hat x2

Conjurer’s Herb Pouch x2

Conjurer’s Staff x1

Enchanted Cat Necklace x12

Enchanted Orca Necklace x7

Enchanted Owl Necklace x7

Enchanted Raven Necklace x4

Enchanted Stag Necklace x9

Enchanted Wolf Necklace x7

Ghost Flame Candles x1

Ghost Flame Cloak x3

Ghost Flame Collar x1

Ghost Flame Headpiece x1

Ghost Flame Tail Jewel x1

Ghost Flame Tail Ribbon x2

Ghost Flame Wing Ribbon x4

Golden Starswirl x7

Haunting Amber Clawrings x1

Haunting Amber Ghastcrown x3

Haunting Amber Grasp x1

Haunting Amber Forejewels x3

Haunting Amber Nightshroud x3

Haunting Amber Pendants x2

Haunting Amber Taildecor x2

Jolly Jester’s Cap x1

Jolly Jester’s Cape x1

Jolly Jester’s Gloves x2

Jolly Jester’s Stockings x1

Jolly Jester’s Tail Bell x4

Jolly Jester’s Wing Cover x2

Plasmpool Armet x2

Plasmpool Flightshroud x1

Plasmpool Forecallouses x6

Plasmpool Hindcallouses x3

Plamspool Spikescarf x1

Plamspool Tailspine x2

Plamspool Tasset x1

Sky Crystal x1

Woeful Gambeson x1

Woeful Gloves x3

Woeful Presence x3

Woeful Vial x2

Familiars

Afternoon Tea x12

Animated Armor x6

Animated Statue x1

Antique Chair x3

Apparition Lance x2

Articulated Fidget Toy x7

Axe Mimic x5

Banshee Brooch x1

Battered Vase x1

Bewildered Broom x2

Blooming Hedgehide x3

Bogsneak Puppet x1

Book Hoard x8

Book Swarm x9

Brass Knocker x7

Calculating Candelabra x1

Catty Cannon x3

Crypto Cameo x1

Crystal Carrier x3

Curious Kettle x2

Curious Parasol x6

Dancing Chalice x1

Danger Decor x1

Deadly Reflection x3

Decision Maker x6

Dirge Fiddlefiend x2

Ectoplasmime x2

Enchanted Armaments x1

Encouraging Quill x5

Ensorcelled Volume x1

Formal Tea Set x11

Four-Eyed Phylactery x2

Furious Faun x3

Glazed Sentry x4

Guest Greeter x5

Inquisitive Shroud x6

Jawlocker x6

Killer Keyboard x1

Kyorinrin x1

Leisure Loaf x4

Living Luminance x2

Living Sculpture x3

Magic Carpet x2

Magic Mirror x1

Manticore’s Might x2

Masked Phantom x1

Nutcracker x4

Opposing Forces x2

Orbiting Spirit x1

Overwatered Seedling x2

Pinpush Mirror Doll x3

Poltergeist Piano x3

Poltergeist Pile x1

Raucous Runner x3

Ravenous Cauldron x6

Rock Paper Scissors x3

Salt and Pepper x11

Scroll Stealer x2

Serpentine Lamp x4

Serthis Support x4

Seething Stove x2

Silverstring Harp x2

Smoldering Sconce x1

Snapper Nutcracker x10

Snarling Mimic x1

Sorcerous Arms x1

Spellbound Tome x5

Splendiferous Sunshade x1

Spirit Armor x2

Spritely Portrait x1

Steadfast Sweeper x2

Sugar and Spice x11

Swinging Chandelier x4

Tick-Tock x1

Time Devourer x4

Tinder Toy x2

Transmuted Treasure x3

Tricky Telescope x1

Undertide Fidget Toy x10

Unlikely Alliance x2

Veiled Vision x1

Veilspun Verse x2

Vulpine Lamp x2

Wooden Marionette x2

Writer’s Aid x2

#notn #night of the nocturne #flight rising #fr #projects #my hoard #next year if I have the time I wanna try getting 1000 chests #but we'll see lol

[ryttu3k]

100 Strange Chests opened! Here are some statistics:

New familiars: 19%

New apparel: 14%

New other items: 5%

Old familiars: 31%

Old apparel: 25%

Old other items: 6%

Egg drop rate: 7%

Scroll drop rate: 0% 😔 (Although I still have like five from last year, so...)

All items under the cut!

New - Familiars

Afternoon Tea x2

Book Hoard x2

Formal Tea Set x2

Nutcracker x2

Salt and Pepper x5

Snapper Nutcracker x3

Undertide Fidget Toy x3

Total: 19

New - Apparel

Candle Cascade x4

Enchanted Cat Necklace x3

Enchanted Orca Necklace

Enchanted Owl Necklace

Enchanted Raven Necklace x3

Enchanted Stag Necklace x2

Total: 14

New - Other

Primary Gene: Fern x2

Secondary Gene: Paisley

Scene: Witch's Kitchen x2

Total: 5

Eggs/Scrolls

Egg x7

Old - Familiars

Animated Statue

Ball-Jointed Bogsneak

Bouncy Broiler

Brass Knocker

Colubrid Column

Crooked Hatchet

Curious Parasol

Dancing Chalice

Deadly Reflection x2

Decision Maker

Dirge Fiddlefiend

Four-Eyed Phylactery

Glowing Globe

Guest Greeter

Jawlocker

Magic Carpet x2

Manticore's Might

Raucous Runner

Scroll Stealer

Smoldering Sconce

Snarling Mimic x2

Sorcerous Arms

Spidered Seat

Unlikely Alliance

Veilspun Verse

Vigilant Spear

Wooden Marionette x2

Total: 31

Old: Apparel

Basic Book Collection x2

Conjurer's Staff

Golden Starswirl x2

Ghost Flame Cloak

Ghost Flame Headpiece

Haunting Amber Forejewels

Haunting Amber Ghastcrown

Haunting Amber Grasp

Haunting Amber Nightshroud

Jolly Jester's Stockings

Plasmpool Armet

Plasmpool Grimplate

Plasmpool Spikescarf

Plasmpool Tailspine

Sky Crystal x3

Woeful Gambeson

Woeful Gloves

Woeful Hood

Woeful Presence

Woeful Tools

Woeful Vial

Total: 25

Old - Other

Scene: Enchanted Dungeon x4

Vista: Spectral Shroud x2

Total: 6

...uh, if anyone wants any of the old items (aside from the Conjurer’s Staff, Ghost Flame, or Haunting Amber pieces), HMU my username is ryttu3k.

#flight rising #that dragon game #tasty statistics

[inventors-fair]

Treason's Greetings - New Year's Revolution Runners-up

Break free from the shackles of decorum and deliver raucous applause for our runners-up this week: @bergdg, @deg99, and @spooky-bard!

Insurgency Veteran - @bergdg Gonna get the criticisms out of the way first: The Ambush reminder text does not do a particularly fantastic job of telling me whether or not I can play this during my opponent's combat. Your submission text vaguely suggests Not  That but I am still uncertain, though this could be cleared up very easily with a "during combat" or "during combat on your turn" rather than referencing some kind of ephemeral the combat phase which just kind of doesn't exist. Additionally, the baseline body feels just a smiiiiidge over the line as is, I think? And I'm not the biggest fan of hiding the fact that Ambushing this will gain you life by folding it into the lifelink. All that said, I love this mechanic so much that I'm very much willing to look past all that. This sort of flash-kicker hybrid situation just looks absolutely ripe for exploration and iteration and I think fits Rebels to a T. Even if some of the fine print isn't quite where I'd like it to be at the moment, the general concept is fascinating enough that I think it's worth working through all those concerns, because I think the design vein you're mining here is well worth the time and effort involved. Absolutely fascinating concept for a mechanic.

Defiant Gateless - @deg99 The previous Ravnica sets did a decent job of hinting at a degree of political dissent between the Guilds and the Guildless, and I'm thrilled to see you explore that here. Directly and unequivocally calling out multi-colored spells is an excellent way of emphasising this conflict while also still hinting at the possibilities of a broader theme of a gold-antagonistic rebellion. Honestly I don't have much else to say here, you made a good card, it sits nicely within Magic as a setting, and there's almost assuredly enough space here to formulate a larger set theme around these particular Rebels. Very well executed.

Disillusioned Technocrat - @spooky-bard Once again gonna lead with the complaints: Not sure why this is white. This could probably be Just Red honestly. Okay, that's it, complaints over. Let the gushing begin. While NEO seemed to emphasise more of a peaceable balance between the enchantment-flavored advocates of tradition and the artifact-flavored agents of progress, the concept of some larger dissent between these two faces of the now-cyberpunk plane seems like an absolutely fascinating hook for a set. Such diametrically opposed factions seem like they would be naturally inclined to conflict a bit more significantly than they did originally, and presuming that they've dealt with the whole Jin-Gitaxias-Showing-Up thing, I don't see why they wouldn't start grinding each other's gears a bit, or even, in this case, convincing one side or another that Maybe We Are The Baddies, Actually. Honestly, the entire prospect of a set of Rebels fighting against Another, Opposing Faction of Rebels is the real endearing part. Standing up to the Man gets a lot more interesting when the man is your foil, I think. Great stuff, gave me a lot to think about.

Thank you all for your entries this week!

#mtg #magic the gathering #Inventor's Fair #custom Magic card #Rebel Contest #runners-up #commentary

[journeydb]

March 19 2023 Barcelona

The weather was warm and dry enough today for us to have our ZUMBA Master Class outside in the space at the end of the Diagonal Mar rambla across from the shopping center. Many people besides the members of our ZUMBA class at Maresme gym showed up and it was a raucous morning with dancing, laughing, and loud music. As always during these classes, I wore my earplugs to protect my already failing hearing. I had such fun with Txiky and Montse and other friends from our class. Fabio was leading the dancing but unfortunately I didn't get a photo of him. I did take some videos so watch for them to see and hear what a fun event it was.

There was also a marathon happening so every now and then we cheered on the runners! Later on I was able to "attend" a church service with Boulder Valley UU Fellowship on ZOOM and it completed a really lovely Sunday experience.

[fairyoctopus]

notn wrapped

after grinding in the bamboo falls, i have:

13 baku, 8 dreameaters, 5 ethereal tricksters, 4 tengu, 2 gale wolves, 4 umbra wolves, only 2 each of the hainu somehow, 8 fungalhoof qiriq, 2 blacktalon strikers, 11 raptorik warriors, 7 tigerblood foo, 2 mantled foo, and 5 wandering surgepriests.

75 total.

for notn familiars, ive got:

5 snarling mimics, 7 ectoplasmimes, 4 jawlockers, 7 animated statues, only 1 deadly reflection! wow, 4 ensorcelled volumes, 7 living sculptures, 3 magic mirrors, 2 opposing forces, 9 painted marionettes, 6 spellbound tomes, 2 unlikely alliances, 10 wooden marionettes, 5 axe mimics, 6 crooked hatchets, 6 ball-jointed bogsneaks, 4 bogsneak puppets, 5 calculating candelabras, 4 smoldering sconces, 5 crystal carriers, 3 orbiting spirits, 6 enchanted armaments, 5 sorcerous arms, 4 glowing globes, 3 living luminances, 3 masked phantoms, 5 veiled visions, 10 serpentine lamps, 4 vulpine lamps, 6 animated armors, 5 spirit armors, 3 ravenous cauldrons, 5 curious kettles, 3 colubrid columns, 6 serthis supports, 3 inquisitive shrouds, 4 valorous capes, 3 poltergeist piles, 5 transmuted treasures, 7 antique chairs, 3 spidered seats, 6 tick-tocks, 8 time devourers, 4 tricky telescopes, 3 mischievous magnifiers, 3 blooming hedgehides, 4 overwatered seedlings, only 1 ghost viola!, 9 dirge fiddlefiends, 5 pinpush mirror dolls, 6 four-eyed phylacteries, 5 scroll stealers, 7 kyorinrin, 7 vigilant spears, 6 apparition lances, 8 banshee brooches, 5 cryptic cameos, 6 dancing chalices, 11 vigorous goblets, 9 swinging chandeliers, 5 pitfall fixtures, 4 spritely portraits, 7 furious fauns, 5 seething stoves, 3 bouncy broilers, 4 battered vases, 7 glazed sentries, 5 manticore's mights, 5 catty cannons, 11 wicker dragons, 3 tinder toys, only 1 silverstring harp, 5 veilspun verses, 2 bewildered brooms, 6 steadfast sweepers, 6 magic carpets, 6 raucous runners, 4 poltergeist pianos, 6 killer keyboards, 5 writer's aid, 3 encouraging quills, 3 rock paper scissors, 3 decision makers, 6 leisure loaves, 3 danger decors, 3 brass knockers, 10 guest greeters, 4 curious parasols, 3 splendiferous sunshades, 5 salt and peppers, 7 sugar and spices, 15 book swarms, 9 book hoards, 8 undertide fidget toys, 9 articulated fidget toys, 9 nutcrackers, 14 snapper nutcrackers, 7 formal tea sets, 5 afternoon teas, 10 bands of companionship, 10 venom rings, 26(!!) crystal curiosities, 7 ponder orbs, 14 dismayed devilwoods, 11 wallowing willows, 20 eerie baubles, 24 enchanted jewelries, 24 entrapping shackles, 15 treacherous irons, 16 littlest snapdragons, 21 snappish plantings, 16 rogue apparels, AND 13 whimsical ensembles.

APPAREL:

conjurer's set: 36

9 cloaks, 6 cobwebs, 7 hats, 7 pouches, 7 staves

ghost flame set: 44

3 candles, 16 cloaks, 4 collars, 9 headpieces, 4 tail jewels, 3 tail ribbons, 5 wing ribbons

jolly jester's set: 47

8 caps, 7 gloves, 6 collars, 6 capes, 8 tail bells, 7 wing covers, 5 stockings

haunting amber set: 63

9 crowns, 12 pendants, 6 grasps, 9 forejewels, 9 taildecors, 6 clawrings, 12 shrouds

plasmpool set: 67

8 armets, 11 scarves, 4 flightshrouds, 9 tassets, 10 grimplates, 5 tailspines, 11 hindcallouses, 9 forecallouses

woeful set: 39

4 footpads, 6 gambesons, 5 gloves, 6 hoods, 7 vials, 5 tools and 6 presences

the rest: 114

10 sky crystals, 9 book collections, 13 gold starswirls, 10 candle and 10 black candle cascades, 14 timepieces, 27 fanciful castings, and 21 first wishes

necklaces: 60

12 stags, 11 cats, 8 owls, 13 ravens, 9 orcas, 7 wolves

conclusion: help me.

764 familiars. if we add it with the bamboo falls ones, we have 839 total familiars.

470 pieces of apparel.

i am going to be melting these down all year.

#lort.

[tasview]

Turbo Chook

The Tasmanian Native Hen is locally referred to as the “Turbo Chook” or Road Runner, though it is not. It is a mostly flightless bird that can run very fast and has a loud raucous call. Apparently they are great eating! After preparation, it’s best to cook them for an hour in a pot of water with a rock, then throw away the bird, and eat the rock. And yes, their eyes are really that…

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#Australia #Hobart #native hen #nature #Photography #road runner #Tasmania #tasview #turbo chook