Form 84 Section B Subsection C.I.iii: Request visit for high security prisoner Prisoner: R080421 Visitor: Head of Department of Law Enforcement, Portia Montgomery Purpose of Visit: Personal Date: 2/08/2014 Approved by: Auror Smith, Auror Unit 9, Azkaban Personnel on duty: Alexander Brown Time-In: 21:00 hrs Time-Out:22:00 hrs
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“You don’t have to go through with it.”
“Make idle threats?” he raises his eyebrows, “Is that how you run the DMLE?”
She twists the edge of her robes in her fingers, “It’s not right.”
“And me being here is.”
“Comparatively, yes. Not enough to warrant you throwing the whole bloody wizarding world into chaos.”
He shrugs, “Its for justice. And truth.”
“So you’ll just stand back here, safe and sound, with your arms crossed, laughing as we try to run around cleaning up the mess you’ve started?”
“Oh well sorry, I’ll just be sitting here, enjoying myself in prison.”
“Merlin Gus, you’re so selfish.”
“I like that -”
“Shut up. Don’t tell me about how you’ve been selfless all your life, laying yourself down for everyone to walk all over you because everyone bloody well knows that it wasn’t selflessness or higher moral duty, but plain fucking guilt.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I’m your sister, I think I know enough. I know enough to know that you’re doing this because you’ve spent ten years feeling sorry for yourself and like a child, you want to get your own back.”
“Well by all means, do go ahead and tell me why I’m doing this because obviously, I don’t know.”
She presses the heels of her hands to her eyes, “Why?”
“I told you. Justice and truth, you can believe me or you can not believe me, I don’t bloody care.”
“You’re so selfish.”
“You’re like a broken record. If you don’t have anything interesting to say you can leave - ”
“It’s always been about your guilt. Everything. Don’t upset Gus, he’s been through so much. Don’t trouble him Portia. Just do as he says Portia. He just needs time Portia. No Portia you can’t have any attention, I have to help poor Gus poor, poor Gus been through so much you couldn’t possibly understand Portia, don’t trouble the poor boy.”
“I fail to see what this has to do with me, this is all mother's doing.”
She flicks him between the eyes, “She wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t been moping around the place the whole time, looking as though you carried the weight of the world upon your shoulders.”
“You’ve never been through what I’ve been through.”
“And that must be so terrible for you. All that guilt for all those years, if you want to make it right, you’re going about it all wrong and father wouldn’t have approved.”
“He was dead by the time you were born and he would have done the same thing.”
“Then he was a fool and you ought to stop feeling guilty about something you couldn’t possibly be held guilty for.”
You weren’tthere, you never saw what I saw.
“Its too late,” he shrugs, instead.
She looks as though she’d like to hit him, moves her hands, still them and they clench into fists.
“You’re wrong if you think any of this is going to change anything,” she says evenly, “People will read this, public inquiries will be made, a few people will be fired and everything will go back to normal in a few weeks. A few discreet scholarly minds will come out in public and tell everyone that Caius Rookwood was a madman and that his theories were completely outlandish, people will take their word for it - because who the fuck knows who Caius Rookwood is except that he was the father of a Death Eater, as though that lends him credibility? And in a few weeks, maybe a few months, all of this would have been forgotten, but you, you'll be in big trouble when this blows over because the Ministry won’t forget that you’re the one who started it all. And by that time, Auror Potter would have finished his investigations into father’s murder and you're going to be the one who’s going to have to answer some very difficult questions. And no one is going to be nice to you this time round.”
“I’ll answer them,” he says carelessly, “I’m a big, bad Death Eater aren’t I?”
She studies her older brother, hardened and embittered by his time in prison and wishes she could shake some sense into him, or at least rouse him from this miasma of self-pity he seems to have been sucked into. Then again, she wonders how much she knew him in the first place and whether he’s always been this self-pitying, simply not out loud where she could hear him. Whether ten years all alone in this tomb - it is a tomb - with nothing but the North Sea and his memories to keep him company have finally made him believe all the poisonous stories he’s told himself over the years.
“Well good luck explaining what you were doing on the scene of the crime,” she drawls.
He stiffens, slightly and her eyes shine in triumph, knowing that she has finally made it through to him.
“I still can’t get used to it,” he says, lightly, swiftly changing the subject. Forced, but not enough for her to catch it.
“What?"
"Portia Montgomery,” he rolls the syllables exaggeratedly.
“Charles isn’t his brother.”
“His son was a bully too. Had to deal with him at good old Hogwarts.”
“Charles isn’t like them, all right? Leave off.”
“I didn’t have anyone to tell them off till -”
“Till your knight in shining armour came along, Merlin's balls Gus, it happened ages ago, it doesn’t matter now.”
“But it matters, Portia,” he says softly, “All of it."
She rolls her eyes, "get your story straight before they haul you up for questioning,” she says unsympathetically and then leaves, not marking the way his eyes cloud over and his knuckles turn white, so white, as he grips the edge of his table - or the fact that he draws blood when he bites his lip.
Or the way he starts to sob helplessly when he is certain there is no one who can overhear him in the corridor outside.
My contribution to the Dracula discussion is that I am now two days into studying for the bar and my brain is already melting, so I completely understand why new-lawyer Jonathan Harker is acting how he is. Others have said it before me, but it’s taken me less than 48 hours to fully comprehend what has happened to the man’s mind. You know how when a caterpillar goes into a cocoon, it doesn’t just grow wings and pop out, but rather it melts into a goo before reconstructing itself to form butterfly? That’s what his brain is doing. It’s in the process of reforming during his first year of being a lawyer. He is not yet a butterfly despite passing the bar—he is still goo. This is especially true because he does property law, the most confusing, archaic of the subjects. I can’t judge him at all.
[ID: A gif of Miles Morales from the movie Into The Spiderverse where he gestures and sings along to the song Sunflower by Post Malone and Swae Lee. /End ID]
HOW DO YOU EVEN POST A 20 PANELS COMIC ON TUMBLR, SERIOUSLY. My answer is probably: don’t make one in the first place. I’m sorry if it makes your dashboard explode.
This is my @captiveprince–ss gift for Allie @thecaptiveroyals. It was supposed to be for the prompts ‘emotional healing’ and ‘ghosts’, but it ended up lacking in the ghosts department. I hope you like it anyway.
“My allergies are horrible right now.” The hero sniffled for show, and when Villain turned around, he was surprised to see Hero’s face glistening with slow-moving tears.
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying. My eyes are burning…because I have allergies.” Simple explanation, and the solution was just as simple. “I just took my allergy medicine- just waiting for it to kick in.”
“You’re still sniffling.”
“Because it hasn’t kicked in yet. It will,” she reassured, as if he were the one that even needed the reassuring.
Villain nodded and turned away, walking to a nearby shelf. For a moment, Hero didn’t think anything of it. There were snacks on those shelves, as well as some videogames. Nothing unordinary. “A warhead would clear your sinuses.”
“No.”
A mischievous look was returned as a sour candy was plucked from a basket on the top shelf. “It would work.”
“It would kill me!”
Hero, in her weakened and dying state, had no defense as Villain approached, tearing the candy open and holding the green, apple-flavored drop of death between two pinched fingers.
“You’re going to kill me,” she screeched, and tried to sniffle, hoping her nose would have already cleared, hoping she could save herself from the sour punch her lover wanted to deliver. “Stop, no! I don’t want it, I don’t-”
But Villain was grabbing her chin with his free hand, squishing her lips until they fell open.
A moment of silence ensued and Villain smiled widely at his success. Hero was puckering, miserable, but her sniffle was gone. “It worked,” he said finally, and she could do nothing in revenge.
The war was lost, settled by a candy smaller than Hero’s thumb.
If Azriel spends half, or even a quarter, of his book pining after Elain while Gwyn just quietly supports him….I will hurl myself into the sun and never read another SJM book again.
Gwyn deserves to experience proper romance and love without being the second choice.
Azriel deserves to grow and understand love without his lust for someone else overshadowing it.
Elain deserves to be more than just the object of someone’s lust or a catalyst for other people’s romance.
This is part of why I don’t ship him with anyone yet, it’s tough for me when I know a character is hung up on someone else.
But I really think we can take the PoV chapter and when it occurs in acosf as an indication that he listened to Rhys, and would have spent most of acosf away from Elain. I think his larger problem is why he gets so obsessed with Elain/Mor/a woman. He will need to work through that and it might take up some page space. But hopefully won’t be focused on Elain, but the issue more generally.
That is totally valid! I can see how that would be a worry. I definitely don’t want him to be pining for someone else his entire book.
I agree that the timing of his pov is really important. He spends five days being a grump, but then he slowly starts to be more normal and we see him bantering and relaxing a bit more. He has a lot of healing and growth to do before he can be healthy enough for a solid relationship, but I truly think that bonus chapter was an ending of sorts for one story and the beginning of another.
I know this seems to be an unpopular opinion, judging by the responses to my original post, but I fully believe that SJM is capable of giving us a beautiful healing journey and romance for Azriel and Gwyn.
P.S. I just want to make clear to others (not this specific person because I know them and I know they know this already) that I am NOT anti SJM or anti Azriel. I love these books and I love these characters. So uh….if you thought this post or my blog was something else, sorry, but you might be in the wrong place.
Anyway, glad to see people talking about stuff besides fandom drama! And thank you for your thoughts @aelin-godkiller<3
Jude Duarte sat in the plush velvet armchair, twirling a knife into the delicately carved wood arm. She shifted her grip loosely, carving a small J into the arm stump. The scrolls of the chair were elaborately carved, likely by hand, and looked imported. The plush velvet lining the bottom was clean, and the chair behind the desk did nothing to vanish any curiosity about the wealth they must have. A man walked in a moment later, tossing his blonde hair out of his eyes and perching on the arm of the chair behind the desk between them. Maps littered its surface, the swirling oak gall ink depicting great sea serpents twisting off the page.
He cleared his throat, glancing at the knife she had resumed twirling into the armrest. “So. settled, then?” She could smell the coffee on his breath from where he sat, the deep purple pigment under his eyes not so easily hidden.
I feel like Tyler and Josh mixed up their tops and Tyler was supposed to be all dressed up and like Blurryface and Josh was supposed to be sporty. But nope. Now we have a cute Blurry soccer referee and a fancy overgrown child
So apparently, I get vindictive when people mess with my grades. I switched into a new group, but didn’t inform my group because they are inconsiderate assholes.
its so funny when ppl shit on horror franchises for lack of continuity as if thats what those franchises are built on why does it matter how jason came back be happy hes alive and well. he went to space.
The morning after the reunion, Zolf wheeled himself out of his room in the back of the inn next to The Soggy Captain, attempting to open and close the door as quietly as possible. He knew it was early. Not like he’d been having much luck sleeping since, well, everything started, and even before then. He wanted to get some time to himself and roll around the city a bit before the ominous looking rain clouds decided to drench them.
However, he rolled out of his room and immediately saw Wilde, stepping out of his own room a few doors down the hall.
“Oh, good morning, Zolf,” he said with a smile. A sincere smile, though his eyes betrayed the myriad of emotions fluctuating beneath the surface.
“Yeah, ‘morning. Didn’t realize you were staying here.”
“Well, I figured it was best to find a room close by in case the festivities got bit toofestive.”
Zolf nodded. “Fair.” He paused for a moment, during which time he and Wilde could only look over the other, really taking them in for the first time in years.
“We didn’t get to talk too much last night,” Zolf continued, looking at his lap. “And there’s a lot I want to say. You know I’m not good with words, but-”
“It’s okay, Zolf.”
“No, it’s not, I left. Leaving is all I seem to be good at.”
Wilde moved toward him, hand outstretched as if to comfort him, but he stopped a few steps short. He still held out his hand, as if unsure of what to do.
“The short version is: I’m sorry,” Zolf said. He made sure to meet Wilde’s gaze this time, even as tears began to roll down his cheeks. “The long version is-”
“We don’t have to do that now if you don’t want,” Wilde interjected. “We’ll have time for that later. I forgive you. And, like I said, the door is always open for you.”
“I don’t want you to have to wait for me.”
“I don’t know how much choice either of us have in that.”
Zolf looked over Wilde again, grateful at least that the man seemed to be taking better care of himself now. And this was without Zolf making use of his kitchen and crafting him a variety of meals.
“There is one thing for right now. Can I… We didn’t… Can I hug you?” Zolf felt so small as he asked that, and he hated the way his voice quivered with the question.
Wilde smiled wide, his own tears starting to fall. He knelt down next to Zolf’s chair and pulled him into a tight embrace. Zolf hugged him back, burying his face in Wilde’s neck and letting the tears fall freely.
After what could only barely begin to make up for the embraces they missed in their years apart, they separated, though Wilde still remained on his knees as he wiped Zolf’s tear-stained cheeks.
“It really is good to see you again,” Zolf whispered, holding onto Wilde’s arm as if it was the only thing keeping him from being rolled away and never coming back.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
Before they could say anything more, a loud “Hello!” erupted from the main area of the inn, followed quickly by a scream and the hasty movement of some furniture.
“You don’t think… is Einstein staying here too?” Zolf asked.
Wilde shook his head. “How long do you think he was hiding in thatcupboard?”
“Do you think he slept there?”
With a faint chuckle, Wilde stood. “Shall we go see what he’s done now?”
“Yeah, let’s go. And, Wilde?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you. For everything. You’re… You’re better than I deserve.”
“I don’t care about ‘deserve.’ I want you around, I want you in my life. And that’s more than good enough for me.”
