#mobile starter

Reese pushed the door open quietly, easing it shut with his fingers. For a moment, Reese just stood there, watching Riley. “Careful,” he said, amused and unapologetic. “I told you last night you wouldn’t be walking this morning.”

you’ve opened a snapstory from @caincorso !

caincorso: raided my ex’s dinner party

"Well, this is honestly nothing!" She says nervously laughing. "It doesn't really hurt." Clearing her throat, she dust off her hands to rid them of the dirt. "Believe it or not, I fall ALL the time."

Juliet didn't know what had hit her. One moment she had been walking down the street in the middle of the French Quarter, the next she was finding herself waking tied to a chair and uncomfortable as hell. Clearly whomever had taken her and given her something, as she was turned on more than she could ever recall being before.

Uncomfortable in her own skin, let alone her clothes, she attempted to break herself out of the chair she had been tied to. Only to figure that the ropes had been spelled in some way, as couldn't seem to get herself loose.

Attempting to calm herself and distract from the feeling that this seemed to be Russia all over again, she turned her thoughts internal and took stock in her current state of being. She was still dressed, minus her boots and jacket. A fact she found interesting with the aphrodisiac flowing through her veins. Her glamor appeared to still be intact though, she was almost positive her boobs were, somehow, bigger than they had been. They certainly felt heavier, as she squirmed in the chair, yet again, trying to untie her hands behind her back.

@hoshi-neko-hikari

“She’s been located.”

The arbitrary sentence seemingly had no place among the private comforts of his winter estate. These were business dealings, after all. Unwelcome here. He came here for the sweet, soft balm the place offered his weary soul. With all of its secluded charms. The rows of decanters proudly arranged in his study. The immense tapestries adorning the grand halls, which were dimly lit each night. Old oil canvases. China that hadn’t been used in eons. It was a place so far removed from the city bustle, it was more akin to another world. Another time.

On quiet nights, such as this one, Augustus could still see ghosts of a lifetime before. They shuffled along the way ghosts did, minding their own business. Some sat in barstools. Others were lazily sunken into supple leather couches, tangled together.

So why had he allowed such intrusiveness?

“Where?” Augustus gave no pause to the voice of his subconscious. It was one that attempted a mad dash at reason — let sleeping dogs lie.

“It’s as you suspected.” A breath. “Russia.”

Of course, he wanted to spit. This called for another swallow of his drink. Only this time it was much larger. Trying to drown something out. He held the gulp for a moment until it stung all the way down to the empty base of his stomach.

“Only...” the man pulled out a thin legal envelope. He laid it at the end of the bar, knowing better than attempt anything uninvited. “...not where you said she’d be. She’s off somewhere in the more rural parts. Almost off the grid completely. Alone. We’ve enclosed the exact coordinates per your request.”

News, yes. A surprise, no.

The ill-fitting, worn leather jacket continued: “She has no security by what we can tell. No immediate staff. Once a week she makes the journey into the nearest town for supplies. Speaks to no one. Returns in under an hour.”

Augustus reached for the envelope. He picked it open with one deft motion and spread the contents along the cold dark wood. They confirmed the man’s story. A thrice folded scrap of paper contained some hastily written numbers.

“We left a few men behind. Should there be a need to...”

He shifted his cold blue stare away from the black and white stills. Focusing at once on his guest, the way a hunter locked on prey. “No. That won’t be necessary.”

There was a pause between them, in which Augustus filled by taking to his feet. He reached into the pocket of his pants, producing cigarettes and an heirloom lighter.

“Get those men out of there first thing in the morning.” Augustus punctuated the order with a spark - a languid plume is smoke followed.

“Sir, they are undetected. I think we should-“

“Ah,” a shadow of his former self glinted through. Cold smirk. Hard eyes. “I don’t require you to think for me. Just track down and report back. The rest is entirely within my power.” Even the latter would have been, if it did not impede with campaigns and other sundry to-do’s. ”Get them out of there.”

“Sir?”

“Just because she hasn’t acknowledged you, doesn’t mean your men are safe and undetected. That woman is a butcher. Vacate the area.”

“Yes, sir.”

@ignoxinia

Gideon had always been a very private person, a family trait it seemed to him. He knew very little about his family or heritage outside of his immediate circle. So when it was brought to his attention that there was another Rosier at Hogwarts, of course he had to seek him out. Gideon needed answers, facts. He lived on them, knowing what others did not. And not knowing felt like acid in his mouth. Walking up to the table where the supposed Rosier sat, Gideon cleared his throat.