#AW had no one ??? like not even elizabeth very probably

[sailor-aviator]

By Its Cover: Chapter Three

By Its Cover: Chapter Three

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader (Last Name: Sinclair)

Summary: The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Content Warning: Historical inaccuracies probably, Promenading, Lingering looks, Stolen glances, Yearning, Gossip, Disregard for personal space, General anxiety, General self-esteem issues, Mean words. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard

Promenading was a terribly boring affair as far as you were concerned. Or at least, it was when spending the time with your overly zealous older sister. Georgie had insisted on sticking close to Lord Seresin, relegating you to the back with your mother and brother. The two of them conversed amongst themselves, leaving you to your thoughts, your hands itching to find a shaded spot where you could continue to read.

You found the book to be quite riveting so far, admiring the Elizabeth Bennet’s wit and bravery as she traversed the unknown landscape of the upper class. You had laughed at her sly remarks to Mr. Darcy, and envied her close relationship with her older sister. You imagined that Lydia and Theodosia were much like them, the way they were always giggling between each other. You had wanted something like that with Georgie, but you were quick to understand that your feelings were not reciprocated. No, Georgie preferred her gossip and shopping to your books and painting.

You caught Lord Seresin’s eye as he glanced back at you. His eyes twinkled as his lips curled into a smile before giving you a quick wink. Your cheeks heated, eyes growing wide at his boldness. He grinned at your reaction, lips pressing into a firm line as he tried to hold back a laugh, instead choosing to make it appear that he was laughing at one of Georgie’s—positively awful—jokes. You shook your head, ridding your mind of any lingering thoughts about the man in front of you. You glanced around the park, noting several newly presented ladies already chatting with suitors. The pairings thus far weren’t very interesting or gossip worthy as far as you were concerned.

Your eyes continued to flit about the garden until they met deep brown ones. Your mood perked up immediately upon sight of Natasha, an eager smile breaking out across your face as she hurried towards you.

“Oh, thank God you’re here,” she breathed as she saddled up to you, linking your arm with hers. “I was beginning to think I would die of boredom.”

“It would appear you and I share one mind,” you laughed, squeezing her arm as the two of you fell in to step just in front of William and your mother. Natasha’s eyes flickered back towards them, a coy gleam in them as she looked at your brother.

“I saw that,” you whispered, a knowing look on your face as she blushed, shushing you quickly before promptly looking forward.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Bug,” she stated, fighting the smile that threatened to break out across her face. You hummed, not believing her in the slightest when she peered over at you with a knowing look of her own.

“Although, I have heard some interesting tidbits about you and your sister this afternoon,” she teased, smirking as your eyes shot to hers.

“What on earth could they possibly be saying about us?” You scoffed. “The season has hardly even begun.”

“Well, what a beginning it’s been then,” she said. “The word around the Island is that a certain lady has her eye on the Duke of Austin.”

“That’s hardly newsworthy,” you sniffed, looking at your sister before shifting your gaze back to Natasha. Her eyes danced with amusement as her smirk grew bigger.

“Ah, but you haven’t heard the rest of it,” she grinned. “As it would turn out, the Duke of Austin appears to have his eyes pinned on another.”

You frowned, already not liking where this was going.

“No,” she continued. “He, in fact, has his eyes set on her sister if the whispers are to be believed.”

Your stomach did a flip, your skin suddenly feeling slightly clammy.

“That’s simply just not true,” you muttered, eyes cast toward the ground. It couldn’t be true. You weren’t nearly as good a prospect as Georgie. Sure, Georgie was prideful and snobbish at times, but she was beautiful, elegant, and sure to make a most wonderful bride to some eligible bachelor. You were none of those things. You were opinionated, stubborn, and much too quick to anger. You weren’t the type to be a graceful lady of an estate. No, you knew deep down in your heart that you would grow old in age living as a spinster on your family’s estate. Although, a secret part of you always hoped for more.

“Bug,” Natasha scowled, leaning in further as she lowered her voice so only you could hear. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Looks at me how?” you muttered.

“Like you’re the most divine creature he’s ever had the privilege of beholding,” she smirked. You frown, irritated that you were even entertaining the, quite frankly, foolish notion that a man such as Lord Seresin, a duke no less, would ever feel anything but muddled curiosity for someone like you.

“This is ridiculous,” you hissed, moving to pull back, but Natasha stopped you with a hand on your arm.

“Is it?” She questioned, eyes glancing in front of the both of you before looking back at you. “Because from where I’m standing, the man has hardly been able to stop looking at you. Perhaps the notorious rake of the Island is ready to settle down.”

You glanced over just as Lord Seresin’s head whipped back forward, a twinge of pink to his ears as he smiled at something your sister just said. You felt a pang in your chest, uncertain and unable to pin the emotion that suddenly filled you. You pressed your lips firmly together as you continued your walk in silence.

“Excuse me, Miss Sinclair.”

Your little party stopped as Mr. Darnstead came up to stand in front of your sister. You saw the way Georgiana’s lips curved coyly, the glance she cast to her right as she greeted the man in front of her.

“Hello, Mr. Darnstead,” she purred. “How are you enjoying the weather this fine day?”

Natasha squeezed your arm once more to get your attention. You turned your head to see her apologetic smile as she stepped back with a sigh.

“My mama is calling for me,” she frowned, gesturing to the woman in question who stood by the pond with a young man. Natasha’s mother had a look of eagerness as she waved for her daughter, and you gave your best friend a sympathetic nod.

“Good luck,” you whispered, squeezing her hand before watching her go. You startled as William stepped up beside you, a furrow to his brow as he watched Natasha’s retreating figure.

“Is that Lord Anson?” He asked, sparing you a glance. You scrunched your nose at him before shrugging.

“I have no idea,” you answered, a sly smile curling at your lips. “Why do you wish to know?”

William turned to you with an owlish blink that had you snickering into your hand. He scowled down at you, bumping your shoulder with his as he fought the smile that threatened to spread out across his face.

“That’s enough out of you,” he admonished playfully, earning a giggle from you.

It was quieter by the fountain that stood guarded by the giant hydrangea bushes and green hedges. You were the only one to venture to this part of the park, most everyone keeping closer to the main walkway where they were sure to be seen by all of society and any potential matches.

You enjoyed the quiet, truly you did. The chirping of birds and hum of insects complimenting the steady trickle of the water in the fountain. It was a nice, little corner that offered you some semblance of privacy while still being in full view of your ever watchful mother, though she seemed more preoccupied with Georgie and her many suitors that had come flooding out of the woodwork than her youngest daughter. You were grateful for the reprieve, sneaking away quietly to try and find some time to continue reading your book. You were making steady progress, admiring Elizabeth Bennet’s refusal of Mr. Collins when accepting would have been not only beneficial, but expected.

Your mother and brother seemed determined for you to marry, but you knew it was a lost cause. No respectable man of the Island would want to marry the strange, youngest daughter of the noble Sinclair family—especially when there seemed to be constant whispers about her ineptitude as a lady.

You sat perched on the edge of the fountain, feeling the mist from the water on your skin, a shiver running up your spine at the coolness of the water. You set your book down, standing to make your way towards the last remaining blossoms of the hydrangeas. You were happy to see them given how late in the year it was. Your family’s estate had a couple of bushes in its garden, but they were kept pruned short unlike the plants before you. The bush toward over you, making you feel small by comparison.

Your hand rose to cradle one of the last group of blossoms, smiling at the bright, blue petals. The ladies of the Island seemed to favor the bright pink and noble purple blossoms more, but you had always had a fondness for the blue. You leaned forward to sniff the sweet smell, humming with a smile.

“There you are.”

You jumped, whirling around to come face to face with Lord Seresin. He put his hands up, an amused smile on his lips as he looked at you.

“Woah,” he chuckled, letting his arms fall back to his sides. “Easy. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t,” you lied, frowning and looking away.

“Right,” he said quietly, shoving a hand into his pocket. “I thought I might find you over here.”

You hummed, fingers toying with the hydrangea blossoms once more. You weren’t sure how to talk to him. He was just a boy you had once known before last night, a friend of your brothers who used to carry you around on his back across the fields of your family’s estate. A boy who always indulged you, much to the annoyance of William. He always had a smile for you or a treat of some kind. You had been sad when he stopped coming around.

Now he was a handsome, young Duke of marrying age. You were not blind to the stares he received from the ladies of the Island—and even some of the men—as he had walked through the park with your family. He had become sturdier since his youth, and the very thought had heat rising to your cheeks.

As if he could read your mind, his lips curled into a smirk, and he took several steps towards you, bridging the gap that had kept your nerves at bay.

“You always did like the flowers,” he mused, his fingers coming up to rest against the same blossoms. He was so close, you could feel his body heat radiating off of him, the smell of his cologne competing with the sweet perfume of the flowers. You took a deep breath, lips parting as you took in his scent, eyelashes fluttering as it overwhelmed you.

“You used to bring them to me all the time,” he continued, eyes softening at the memories.

“Did I?” You asked, cursing how breathy your voice sounded.

“Oh, yes,” he grinned, plucking a blossom off the bush and handing it to you. “That and whatever creature you managed to dig up.”

You took the flower from his hands, cheeks becoming hotter at his teasing and the way his fingers brushed against yours.

“Your grace,” you started, but Lord Seresin frowned.

“Jake,” he corrected.

“Jake,” you sighed, grimacing. “Perhaps we should rejoin the others.”

“Why?” he asked with a frown. You pursed your lips, eyes flickering down to the flower in your hand. Anything to escape his intense green ones.

“I think it would be wise in order to avoid scandal,” you murmured, eyes darting towards the main pathway where several of high society’s elite strolled.

“I didn’t know you were so concerned with the thoughts of high society,” he smirked, leaning closer. You leaned away, eyes wide as his breath fanned over your face.

“Why would I not be?” You challenged, brow furrowing. “I am a lady of one of the noble families. To ruin my reputation is to ruin all of theirs as well.”

“You think I’m out to ruin your reputation?” He asked, smirk faltering. You stared at him for a second, mind reeling at his proximity and unsure of how to respond.

“What are your intentions with my sister?” You blurted out. Jake balked, confusion spreading out across his face.

“What?”

“Your intentions with my sister,” you continued, meeting his eyes with faux confidence. “You have quite the reputation, Lord Seresin. I would hate to see her caught up in it.”

All traces of mirth were gone from his face by the time you finished speaking. A dark glimmer in his eyes had you hesitating, but you stubbornly stood your ground, waiting for his answer.

“And what, pray tell, is my reputation, Miss Sinclair?” He challenged, a growl in his voice that most certainly did not make you feel flustered. Your mind raced back to the words Natasha and William had both spoken to you.

“They say you’re a rake,” you declared, lifting your chin. “Rumor has it that you’d rather spend your time with a different lady every night than settle down. That you spend your nights drinking and gambling until the sun rises. If you mean to court my sister, that will have to stop.”

Hurt flashed in his eyes. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced with a cold veneer, his jaw clenching.

“I’m surprised you of all people would listen to the wretched gossip that everyone seems so fond of,” he said coolly, standing up straight and taking a step back from you as he adjusted his jacket. “Given how you yourself are the subject of some. Just a silly little girl with her head in the clouds and no understanding of the world around her. You’ll be lucky to find a match at all is what they say about you.”

The hot sting of tears prickled at the back of your eyes. Of course you weren’t a stranger to the things people whispered about you, only a fool would be. But in that moment, the image of the sweet boy who entertained you all those years ago is shattered.

You felt your lower lip wobble, and the cold look in Jake’s eyes crumbles as it’s replaced with one of regret.

“Lady Bug, I-” He started, reaching a hand out to you, but you jerked back. You gave him one last look, schooling your features as you rushed past him.

“Excuse me,” you sniffled, cursing as your voice trembled. You didn’t look back, making a beeline towards where your mother stood.

“Mama,” you called, the older woman turning to face you. Concern pulled at her brow and lips as she looked at you.

“Whatever is the matter, dearest?” She asked, cupping your face in her hands as she looked you over. You cleared your throat as you glanced to the ground.

“I’m suddenly not feeling well,” you lied. “Might I take the coach home?”

Your mother hesitated, and you could feel his eyes on you as she glanced up at him.

“I suppose that’s alright,” she said slowly, her hands coming down to rest on your shoulders. “Just have the driver come straight back once you’re home.”

You gave her a tight-lipped smile, ducking your head as you scurried away towards the entrance to the park.

You heaved a sigh as you stared out your window. You hadn’t stopped thinking about your exchange with Lord Seresin. Why had he been so upset with you? You were protecting your sister from heartbreak, warning him that the opinions of him will affect her too should he choose her as his wife. Was he angry because they had come from the lips of a woman all considered to be strange? Or perhaps it was because they were spoken aloud at all.

A knock sounded on your door, and you turned at the sound.

“Come in,” you called, thoughts still swirling inside your head. Your maid, Nora, poked her head in, a small smile directed your way.

“Good afternoon, miss,” she greeted, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. “I wanted to let you know that dinner will be served in about one hour.”

“Thank you, Nora,” you smiled, but the action seemed forced. She hesitated for a moment, flinching as you gave her a puzzled look.

“Your mother wanted me to remind you that the Duke of Austin will be joining your family this evening,” she twittered nervously.

Your heart sank, the thought of seeing him again so soon filling you with dread. Perhaps you could feign illness and stay in your room with your book-

You lurched to your feet, Nora giving a startled cry at your sudden movement. You scurried around the room, moving piles and throwing pillows in a bid to find it.

“What are you looking for, miss?” The maid asked, coming up behind you. You turned to look at her, despair coloring your features.

“My book!” You exclaimed. “The one Mr. Mitchell let me borrow! I must have left it at the park, oh no.”

“You might still have time to go back and get it,” Nora offered. “You could be back with just enough time to get ready for dinner.”

“I’d be cutting it close,” you murmured, chewing on your bottom lip. The sky was beginning to darken, and you huffed out a breath.

“We must go quickly,” you decided. Nora grabbed your cape as you hurried out of your room. She chased after you, wrapping the cape around you as you exited the house. The driver was blessedly still by the stagecoach, and you signaled to him that you were in need of his services.

“I need to get to the park,” you told him, clambering into the coach. “As quickly as you can.”

The ride was quick, but silent, the coach jostling every now and then. You thanked the driver once you had stopped, gathering your skirts and running towards the fountain. You were out of breath by the time you reached it, panting as you looked to the spot you had set it down at earlier. Your stomach did a flip as you looked, the book nowhere in sight. You did two laps around the fountain before letting out a groan.

“Blast it all,” you cursed, hiding your face in your hands. How were you going to explain this to Mr. Mitchell?

With a sigh of defeat, you trudged back to the coach, your driver giving you a sympathetic look as he helped you inside. The ride back felt slower despite using the same route as before. When the coach stopped in front of your home, you thanked the driver once more before trudging inside. You heard voices coming from the parlor, and you knew you’d have to move quickly unless you wanted to hear another lecture from your mother about minding the time of others.

The family butler, Mr. Stevens, approached you.

“Miss,” he greeted with a slight bow of his head. “A parcel was left for you earlier this evening.”

“A parcel?” You frowned, shrugging off your cape. “Whoever from?”

“I’m not sure, miss,” Mr. Stevens grimaced. “It was left at the door with a note on top of it.”

Mr. Stevens gestured toward the end table pressed up against the wall. You walked over to it, brow furrowed as you lifted the wrapped package, the note falling to the side. You tore at the paper, eyes lighting up once you saw what was underneath.

“My book!” You exclaimed, relief flooding you as you clutched it to your chest. Your eyes darted towards the note that lay on the table, your name in neat scrawl printed across the front. You set the book down, picking up the paper gingerly as you flipped it open. Your eyes darted across the writing, widening before you could fully process what you were reading.

What on earth?

A/N: A big shoutout to not only Ruthie, but @sorchathered for helping me make concrete decisions on this story! My works wouldn't be what they are without the help and ever present ears of my friends to help me through and bounce ideas off of.

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to be notified on when I post updates, please follow my side blog (@sailoraviator-library) and turn on post notifications! My work is cross posted on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[lowcosmic]

hii i hope youre not too busy with requests haha.. but my idea is kokichi x reader that usually looks and acts cute but is physically stronger than they look with a different demeanor (basically like Elizabeth from Black Butler)

reader likes it when kokichi protects them but one day maybe someone forcefully tries to make a move on reader but kokichi wasn't around, so they just dealt with it themselves only for kokichi to see the end bit lol thank you very much!

—— kokichi with a s/o who’s cute but deadly .

— 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: kokichi with a gender neutral lover who seems harmless , but looks can be deceiving. especially when he catches them one day …

— 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : fluff

— 𝐜𝐰 : some sexual references ( very small amount ) , violence , curse words

— 𝐚/𝐧 : i was tempted ,, very tempted , to make the title “ kokichi with a s/o who’s cute but can fucking karate chop your neck to look like natsuki’s . ” ( yes , ddlc reference )

i think we can all agree that kokichi’s protective , sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse.

he’d definitely badmouth or shit on someone ( metaphorically … ) for flirting / hitting on you — no matter the severity. once he spots it , he’ll cooly tell them to fuck off ( or maybe he’ll say it nicer. you never really know with him. )

he’ll even initiate some publicity ( nothing too explicit , just making out or something in front of the person ) to get them to go away.

one day, you noticed some guy staring at you creepily — eyeing below your waist.

he was so unbelievably obvious that you started to think he was drunk or high or something — but he seemed sane enough to know exactly what he was doing.

kokichi wasn’t there — you were waiting for him to arrive at your rendezvous and he was late — so this situation had to be handled by just you today.

the guy approached , his lips turning into a thin grin.

“ heyy , hot stuff. you’d look even better on my bed tonight. what do you say? ” he introduced rather heavily , considering this guy was a complete stranger.

“ ah — th - thanks? but … no thank you … ” you’d replied — backing up a bit.

“ aw , come on. ” he grabbed your shoulders , pushing you against the wall.

your instincts kicked in and you kicked him in the groin.

the guy backed off — groaning in the process. you used your heel to kick him onto the ground , thankfully no one around to witness the guy getting absolutely wrecked.

“ do the world a favor and go fuck yourself , why don’t you? ” you shifted him slightly away with your foot.

then , repeated footsteps came your way — kokichi.

you backed away from the unconscious figure , sheepishly smiling at kokichi’s dumbfounded expression.

then praise would come out from kokichi as a waterfall of wows and questions , probably things like , “ i didn’t know you were such a killer machine !! ” and also “ my whole life is a lie !!! ” and then give you a big smooch on the lips

he’d probably still stick in whenever he’s around and someone’s flirting with you after that , he’s just mega protective and even though you can well off defend yourself , well , he’d like you to save it for the fangirls crowding him on an often basis instead.

please don’t repost , translate , or claim my works as your own.

[kory-dany]

In defense of Charlotte as a mother

Quick disclaimer this post is not trying to undermine charlottegeorge's (we seriously need to come up with a better ship name) children's feelings towards their mother. Although we know very little about them, it's obvious their relationship with Charlotte isn't perfect, but if I'm being honest, I'm tired of this narrative that she was an awful mother. I 100% agree that she wasn't the best mother (tbh, none of the Bridgerton mothers are. That's what makes the show interesting), but people keep suggesting that she's Augusta-level bad, and that's just not true.

Firstly, everyone keeps forgetting that Lottie lost her parents when she was young, which suggests she didn't have a motherly presence for at least half her life. Secondly, she was eighteen when she had her first child. Eighteen and her strongest examples of motherhood were probably Agatha and Augusta (both, again, arguably not the most amazing mothers). Thirdly, she had fifteen kids. FIFTEEN!! Thirteen (twelve???) surviving, I'm not saying she didn't love them equally, but that's a lot of kids to get to know.

My main argument, however, is that Charlotte probably was not the best mother, and she probably did focus more on being queen and protecting George — which I would argue was also protecting her children. However, she is not Augutsa 2.0 (who, even though not the best mother did try).

Charlotte had twelve (thirteen, idk any more consistency is not this shows strength) surviving children, and it seemed that, for the most part, she let them do whatever they wanted. Unlike Augusta, who tried to control every aspect of George's life, she let her sons whore about (her words, not mine), and she clearly didn't meddle too much in her daughter's love lives. It's only until the very last minute that she inserts herself into their affairs.

At first, it was just her telling them to marry suitable people and produce an heir. She still allowed them to marry who they liked, just as long as they were from a specific pool. And if I'm being honest, that pool wasn't that small; they literally had all of Europe. One of them could have found someone if they had tried. But alas, they didn't which forced Charlotte's hand, leading to arranged marriages.

I think none of them really took her command of marriage seriously because none of them, outside of George probably, knows what responsibility is. Yes, we know that her daughters stayed because they couldn't bare to see their mother remain stuck in time. However, Charlotte did what Augusta couldn't. She didn't let the weight and responsibility of the crown break her children. To her, she was a good mother because she gave them freedom — freedom George never had — she let them have affairs and stay unmarried because she refused to put pressure on them the way Augusta and everyone else did on George.

Her children didn't crack under the crown's weight because she did. Charlotte had two choices: be the best queen or be the best mother. I think she chose the option that made the most sense to her. By being the best queen (George's queen), George had someone on his side, the kingdom had stability, AND her children got to live their lives.

Charlotte had so much responsibility from such a young age; is it really shocking that she couldn't juggle it all? Furthermore, people keep acting like she didn't love her kids, but she clearly did. She was very much pained when Elizabeth confessed her miscarriages, she was gentle with William when he admitted he was scared, and she was ecstatic when Edward announced Victoria's pregnancy. She didn't even care that they thought it would be a girl.

Overall, Charlotte is not a perfect mother, but none of the Bridgerton mothers are (not even Violet). All the mothers in this world are just women who tried their best. And as much as their best may not have been enough, it's all they had. Bridgerton does this brilliant thing, highlighting the toxic cycle that occurs when child-baring is a societal expectation, even in relationships made from love and children produced by autonomy. Charlotte's story is just another example.

[covid-safer-hotties]

California COVID surge is surprisingly stronger, longer-lasting than experts had expected - Published Aug 5, 2024

California's summer COVID surge has proved to be particularly strong and enduring, surprising experts with its tenacity as it storms into a third month. The strength of this summer's COVID surge probably is largely related to the ever-more infectious subvariants that continue to emerge as the coronavirus evolves, said Dr. Elizabeth Hudson, regional chief of infectious disease at Kaiser Permanente Southern California. A dizzying number of related subvariants — collectively dubbed FLiRT — have emerged in recent months. One in particular, KP.3.1.1, has been picking up steam at a startling pace and has become the most common strain nationwide. \"KP.3.1.1 seems to be the most adept at transmission,\" said Dr. Peter Chin-Hong, an infectious diseases expert at UC San Francisco. \"And it's the one that people think will continue to take over, not only in the United States, but ... around the world.\"

Coronavirus levels in California wastewater have surpassed the peaks seen in each of the last two summers, according to data estimates released Friday by the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, which run through the week ending July 27. Coronavirus levels in sewage have been \"high\" or \"very high\" for eight consecutive weeks. \"This particular surge ... is fairly robust and long-lasting, lasting a little longer than I thought that it would. It's certainly very different from last summer,\" Hudson said. California is one of 43 states, as well as the District of Columbia, with \"high\" or \"very high\" coronavirus levels in wastewater. While hospitalizations overall remain a fraction of those seen during earlier COVID summertime spikes, hospitalizations and emergency room visits have been ticking up, and clinics are seeing high numbers of infected patients.

\"This is not a benign wave,\" wrote Dr. Eric Topol, director of the Scripps Research Translational Institute in La Jolla, in a blog post published Saturday. \"It's a major wave now ... we haven't yet reached the plateau.\"

In Los Angeles County, there were an average of 389 coronavirus-positive hospitalized patients per day for the week that ended July 27, roughly twice as high as a month ago. The latest number is about two-thirds of the peak from last summer and one-third the peak from the summer of 2022. \"We are seeing a lot of outpatient cases — it's been a much higher uptick over the last week, actually,\" Hudson said Friday. For the week that ended Saturday, the CDC estimated that KP.3.1.1 comprised 27.8% of coronavirus samples nationwide, an astonishing jump from its 7.2% share a month ago. Because the FLiRT subvariants are related, it's likely that being infected with one will provide some protection against the others — at least for a time. But if you're further removed from a brush with COVID, the rise of KP.3.1.1 heightens the risk of infection, as it has evolved to be even more contagious, Chin-Hong said.

Amid this ever-more-infectious backdrop, the number of people who have never had COVID-19 — the \"Novids\" — is dwindling. \"The proportion of 'Novids' is getting smaller and smaller,\" Chin-Hong said. \"I've heard so many stories in the last few weeks of people who didn't get any [COVID illness] until this point, now in our fifth year\" since COVID emerged. Though the newer subvariants are more easily spread, there are, generally speaking, no indications that they are more likely to put someone in the hospital. But some people have nevertheless expressed surprise at how awful they feel from their latest COVID-19 illness, complaining of sore throats so intense they feel as if they're swallowing razors or broken glass, and bouts of severe coughing that leave them winded. It may be that some people are years removed from their last infection or vaccine dose, making this summer's sickness feel especially terrible, doctors say.

If you can't jump the paywall, read the rest at the CovidSafeHotties link! I jumped it for you!

[go-scottishgal14]

Great essay in The Telegraph, 7/28/2024, hits nail on head imho....

Not even France can escape the West’s cultural decay

Our civilisation is surely doomed when the best Paris can offer is a drag queen parody of the Last Supper

TIM STANLEY -- 28 July 2024 at 7:30 pm

At the Olympics they often sing Imagine, containing the line, “Imagine there’s no countries …” Well, if there were no countries, there’d be no Olympics, which would be marvellous. Who wants to watch two weeks of muscular women throwing sticks and balls at each other? The only entertaining bit is the opening ceremony. Britain did a good ’un back in 2012; so good that it entered folklore, along with the 1966 World Cup and Dunkirk. When our grandkids ask, “What did you do in the clash of civilisations?” we shall reply: “We pushed Elizabeth II out of a helicopter.”

Paris, by contrast, offered us drag queens doing a parody of the Last Supper – insulting Christians, mocking God. When I described the scene to a priest, he replied: “That explains the torrential rain, then.”

It was blasphemous, sure, but it was also tacky; the crime aesthetic as well as religious. You have a once-in-a-lifetime chance to sell your country to tourists, and what did France go with? A dozen men – one with a beard – twerking to Freed from Desire. Actual culture necessitates discipline and taste. In the 21st century, people just “party”, cos it requires zero effort and any idiot can do it.

Kicking Christians is very easy because we have no power and, when we’re angry, we don’t fly planes into things. And yet some people cannot leave us alone. They feel a need to ridicule our beliefs and subvert our images, to drag Christ down to the gutter – as if crucifying him once wasn’t enough.

It’s probably because faith is beautiful. People don’t know how to react to it. When you’ve been raised in ugliness, to be confronted with the profound, transcendent beauty of the Last Supper can inspire awe, yes, but also fear. Think of those apes going bananas at the mysterious monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey. Beauty pierces the illusion of a comfortably banal existence.

Imagine if instead of the drag queen parody, the ceremony had paused to display the real painting by Leonardo da Vinci. No music. No fireworks. Just Jesus&Co. Millions would’ve switched off the telly – because they’d find it boring, no doubt, but also strange, unnerving, possibly offensive. There would’ve been thousands of complaints. We have engineered an entire existence around pleasure and distraction. Stop the disco for one minute and people might fill the silence with thought, even prayer … or they might riot.

Either way, you’ve got a revolution on your hands, and the powers that be can’t have that.

L’Hexagone faces a fate worse than death: becoming Great Britain

Organisers have apologised for any offence caused, but wise-guys insist the whole thing was a very French joke the world didn’t get. But how French was the ceremony in total?

Celine Dion is Canadian. Lady Gaga is from the United States. “This is France!” tweeted Emmanuel Macron – in English, something one could never imagine De Gaulle or Mitterrand doing. In fact this version of France looks suspiciously American, and drag is another import.

Men have been dressing up as women for a laugh for centuries, and long may it continue. But the art form’s current vibe was promoted by Ru Paul – obviously influenced by Voguing – and the notion that drag queens are apostles for progress is 100 per cent “made in the USA”.

I’m old enough to remember when a drag act meant a bloke, often married, dressed as Barbara Cartland telling filthy jokes about foreigners in the Dog and Duck. The Yanks have mainstreamed this subculture, transforming it into a mass consumer product, which was another reason to yawn rather than boo at the drag disciples. This stuff ceased being brave or transgressive 20 years ago. Like the rainbow flag (designed by an American) or Pride (begun in America), it is banal because it is ubiquitous.

So, Brits shouldn’t gloat over the tawdry French games. If we held them today, we’d make identical mistakes. Our ceremony would also be a celebration of diversity – every Western nation has become diverse to the point of looking exactly the same – for diversity is something one promotes when you’ve lost confidence in your historical identity. When you’ve decided everything you did pre-1960 was racist, and you’ve stopped writing great novels, composing symphonies or painting beyond primary school standard.

The West is culturally dying. It only looks alive because we’re dancing among the relics of what we used to do well – and are so embarrassed by these past accomplishments that we feel moved to ridicule their ideals.

The Paris ceremony, of course, featured a headless Marie Antoinette. Let’s laugh at a victim of an earlier experiment in egalitarianism. It’s interesting how gender always haunts debates about civilisation. In 1790, Edmund Burke – a philosopher writing before Marie’s execution – predicted that the lack of chivalry shown towards the queen would eventually spell disaster for all women and all France. In a world without etiquette or distinction, he said, “a queen is but a woman; a woman is but an animal, and an animal not of the highest order”. Abusing monarchs, like burning books, erodes dignity and encourages murder.

France’s decline is nothing special. In some regards it is ahead of us; in others, behind. The depressing point is that it is familiar. These Olympics have been marred by racial tension, incompetence, poor taste, unreliable railways, filthy river water and terrible weather. France’s fate is worse than death: she has become Great Britain.

[sugarywishes]

Extending on from my last question, what is the relationship between William & his kids after their deaths? You have said about how the kids judge Evan for instance, but not how himself feels about it. Furthermore, how do they feel about each other? Elizabeth especially, given Elizabeth using Micheal as a suit among other things...

Okay, so once again, I'm gonna put a header here so as not to make this a nightmare to scroll past 😭😭 here's your answer below!

Okay so after William's death, he indirectly placed himself in a dormant state, so in simplified terms, he was there, but it was kinda like he was in a coma in the suit. (I mean he was dead, it's just a little weird to explain. His ghost was sleeping I guess)

And the way spirits work in my mind, the longer the ghost stays on earth (and how old they were when they died), the less the ghost remembers of its original life. (The same logic also applies to the ghost kids, they don't remember their lives, but they remember how they die and their feelings/anger around it) Since William died a little after killing the kids (and since he was older than them) most of his memories have wasted away but a few fragments remained when he was Springtrap. Like he remembers he HAD a family since he slightly remembers Mike and Elizabeth. He doesn't fully remember Clara or Evan. So in his mind he started killing just for the fun of it. He also remembers Charlie and Henry but that's basically it.

Evan is kind of a strange case since he's the only one who mostly remembers his life and family (mostly because he had very strong feelings during and about his life in general) but he didn't get a chance to interact with his dead family since as I said in the previous post, Cassidy kept him in a dormant state. (And plus the rest of his family were in other places anyway!)

Elizabeth only remembers her dad and Mike. Clara doesn't really remember anything except William (aw man she didn't even recognize her son and daughter and they were right there!)

But going back to Elizabeth, her relationship with Mike is one of the few positive ones she had in general. So I think that explains why she helped him out in SL, but remember that Elizabeth became kinda crazy and vengeful after rotting away alone underground for a while. She was super desperate to get back outside and interact with *anyone*, so she figured having her big brother to go with her would help out in the long run (which is why she used him as a living suit and eventually discarded him, uh, nice sister-ing Liz...) I think she also used Mike as a way to try and find her dad again (since she probably didn't know he died)

I don't think I properly answered this question, but I'm still currently fleshing out my lore as much as I can currently. Hope this was legible at least! 😭😭

[bethanydelleman]

Do no harm

It is kind of shocking how much harm is done in Jane Austen novels by people who have no freaking idea that they are causing damage. You might say “unconsciously done”

Marianne in Sense & Sensibility thinks that Edward loves Elinor and is maybe prevented by his mom from proposing, she has no idea that Edward is actually engaged to Lucy because Elinor hides her pain. She has no idea how awful this speech is, but we do:

“Do you call me happy, Marianne? Ah! if you knew!—And can you believe me to be so, while I see you so wretched!”

“Forgive me, forgive me,” throwing her arms round her sister’s neck; “I know you feel for me; I know what a heart you have; but yet you are—you must be happy; Edward loves you—what, oh what, can do away such happiness as that?”

“Many, many circumstances,” said Elinor, solemnly.

“No, no, no,” cried Marianne wildly, “he loves you, and only you. You can have no grief.”

Similarly, in Mansfield Park, Mary and Edmund have no idea that Fanny loves Edmund, which twists a perpetual knife in Fanny’s heart. I think for her it’s even worse than what Aunt Norris does. Like this seemingly innocuous reference to Mary when Edmund compliments Fanny’s gown:

“Your gown seems very pretty. I like these glossy spots. Has not Miss Crawford a gown something the same?”

And then we have Mr. Bennet in Pride & Prejudice joking about Mr. Collins’s letter and destroying Elizabeth, completely unaware:

Elizabeth tried to join in her father’s pleasantry, but could only force one most reluctant smile. Never had his wit been directed in a manner so little agreeable to her… It was necessary to laugh, when she would rather have cried. Her father had most cruelly mortified her

In Persuasion, Mary Musgrove, who probably did intend to hurt Anne a little, but had no idea just how terrible it was that Wentworth insulted Anne’s looks, because Mary had no idea they were once engaged:

“Captain Wentworth is not very gallant by you, Anne, though he was so attentive to me. Henrietta asked him what he thought of you, when they went away, and he said, ‘You were so altered he should not have known you again.’”

Mary had no feelings to make her respect her sister’s in a common way, but she was perfectly unsuspicious of being inflicting any peculiar wound.

This is such an interesting thing for Austen to point out. So much pain caused by other people is not done maliciously or even purposely. How do you even prevent doing something like that? I feel like in some ways, this is just a part of life. Which may be another reason why Austen’s novels are so realistic and poignant.

[mightydyke]

Frankenstein as a horror novel is about the horror of societal injustice. The eight-foot undead monster isn't even that scary on his own, it's the fact that he is rejected by society due to the way he looks.

"The words induced me to turn towards myself. I learned that the possessions most esteemed by your fellow creatures were high and unsullied descent united with riches. A man might be respected with only one of these advantages, but without either he was considered, except in very rare instances, as a vagabond and a slave, doomed to waste his powers for the profits of the chosen few! And what was I? Of my creation and creator I was absolutely ignorant, but I knew that I possessed no money, no friends, no kind of property. I was, besides, endued with a figure hideously deformed and loathsome; I was not even of the same nature as man. I was more agile than they and could subsist upon coarser diet; I bore the extremes of heat and cold with less injury to my frame; my stature far exceeded theirs. When I looked around I saw and heard of none like me. Was I, then, a monster, a blot upon the earth, from which all men fled and whom all men disowned?"

Caroline's death, which arguably could be the cause of Victor's obsession with creating life, was due to the fact that she tended on Elizabeth whilst she was ill due to her what was expected of her as a woman. The murder of William wasn't just awful because of the fact that he was killed, it's the fact that Justine, a poor servant girl, gets accused and executed for his murder (compare this with the other times we see a corrupt court sentencing: Safie's father gets put in prison for being a wealthy Muslim; "The injustice of his sentence was very flagrant... his religion and wealth rather than the crime alleged against him had been the cause of his condemnation." Frankenstein also gets falsely accused and put in prison, but is treated much better and released, probably due to being a wealthy European man). Not to mention the Elizabeth... the horror of trying to defend your best friend from being executed and your words being powerless. Knowing the man you are engaged to marry has a terrible secret that he won't tell you, but you have to marry him because it's been planned by your adopted parents since you were a child. And then she dies! Due to Victor's creation that he never even tells her about! A creation that some argue is an attempt to usurp the role of women as life-givers.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Vincent buys a really expensive horse he can’t quite ride…maybe he can sort of ride but this horse is too spirited for him, or maybe he’s never actually ridden and thinks it looks easier than it actually is. Maybe he has a really fancy competitive riding outfit that he puts on for his first ride. The horse dumps his ass and Chidi naturally has to pick him up and comfort him. Probably Chidi would want to shoot the horse right there, not because he’s an awful guy who hates animals or anything, but just because it hurt Vincent. (Vincent stops him though!) Maybe then he decides to get actual riding lessons, or hire a professional rider for the horse, or something.

Aaaaaaaa I really love this ask, thank you anon!!! I went with the idea that this horse is too spirited. Of course he’d think that he has what it takes to tame a horse like that even when he doesn’t. And I headcanon that animals are initially quite suspicious of him because he's not good at taking their feelings into account and tends to do things that leaves a bad first impression. The yak and Dog in Beyond Judgement were both that way. So an already free-spirited horse could definitely be spooked by Vincent...although I think they would form a deep bond in the end ^_^

-⚜- Pure of Heart -⚜-

TW: threatened animal death (but it doesn't happen), possible concussion

Disclaimer: I don't ride horses so this is just based on what I've been told by a family member who does ride.

Image Sources: One (screenshot) | Two (this was from Google Images but it linked to the Tumblr @b-skarsgard in general rather than the post, so I couldn't find the particular post link. You can message that link to me if you want it added!) | Three | Borders

“They call her ‘Golden Unicorn.’ That’s ‘Licorne Dorée’ for you, I believe.” The trader ran a hand along the shimmering, silky neck of his latest offering for the Marquis de Gramont. She looked truly metallic, glittering almost as much as his suit. “’Course, the horn is an accessory added by our effects artists. But she does have quite a prominent forehead, almost a vestigial horn if you use your imagination.”

The Marquis smiled, humoring him, though he was genuinely intrigued. “A cute touch. What is she really?”

“An Akhal-teke. One of the shiniest of all horse breeds, and she’s the daughter of two winning show horses. Her pedigree goes back five generations, in fact.” He handed over a certificate boasting of a long line of dressage winners on both the father and mother’s lineage. “Her sister is showing next week before Queen Elizabeth.”

He glanced up from the paper, suspicious of a deal too good to be true. “Why is this one for sale, then?”

“Well…” the trader chuckled nervously. “She lives up to her name, you see. I’m sure you’ve heard myths about the free-spirited unicorn? Won’t let anyone but the pure of heart ride her?”

Ah. So that explained the charade with the horn. Though he had to admit, it was working on him. “You’re saying she’s green-broke.”

“…That’s…about right.” So not even fully green-broke, then.

The Marquis eyed the animal, who seemed to feel his gaze. She tossed her head against the lead rope. Even beneath the trader’s familiar hand, her muscles were trembling. “I’ve broken a horse before.”

The trader sighed dramatically. “Not like this one. I’ll be honest with you, Marquis, for liability’s sake: she may be a five-year-old mare but she acts like a two-year-old intact stallion. And she’s nervous as hell. I know what she could be, with the right training – you’ve seen how gracefully she moves. But it takes a very special touch to even get into the saddle with this one.” In a silent challenge, his eyes lingered meaningfully on Vincent’s horse show awards lining the far wall of the stable. Are you that special?

Vincent knew exactly what this man was doing, but he was already too sold to care. “I’ll take her.”

-⚜-

“En êtes-vous sûr, monsieur? Il serait peut-être plus sûr de demander à l'un de vos entraîneurs de la tester d'abord. [Are you sure about this, sir? It might be safer to get one of your trainers to test ride her first.]” Chidi was tightening the chinstrap of his master’s riding helmet, inlaid with gold pinstripes under the clearcoat. He was in one of his finer outfits, with polished black boots trimmed in gold, spotless white chaps, white gloves, and a black, double-breasted coat.

“Je peux la gérer. [I can handle her.]” Chidi knew better than to say anything further, and Vincent strode confidently towards his “Licorne,” who waited in the corral, already saddled and held in place by a stable hand. It was a perfect day for riding, with the late morning sun casting sheens across her withers and a light breeze lifting her mane. She was really an elegant thing. Even as she took two hasty steps back from him, there was a dancerly quality to the motion. Vincent admired her for a long moment and finally deigned to stretch out a gloved hand to her nose in a gesture of goodwill.

If he had expected her to be instantly soothed by his presence as she had never been for anyone else (which was in fact exactly what he had expected), he was to be disappointed. She shied away again and only allowed herself to be touched when she realized she was at the end of her lead rope. But god, she was soft as silk. Up close, she was an unearthly, angelic conglomeration of velvet wrinkles, soft pink nostrils in a complexity of folds and fine eyelashes spraying as starbursts from those cold yet honeyed eyes that regarded him so suspiciously. He trailed his hand down her cheek and then her neck as he made his way to the saddle, over delicate veins and twitching muscles, enjoying the texture.

She realized how close he was getting to the saddle and flattened her ears. He mounted anyway. She stumbled forward and backward, uneasy, while he “woa-ed” for her to stop.

He couldn’t deny at this point that she disliked him, and it irritated him a little. “Pourquoi tu ne me fais pas confiance, hmm ? Ne suis-je pas « pur de cœur » ? Je ne t'ai rien fait. [Why don’t you trust me, hmm? Am I not ‘pure of heart’? I haven’t done anything to you.]” As if in answer, she snorted, but even that was done delicately. “Vos formateurs ont-ils parlé français avec vous? [Did your trainers speak French with you?]”

The stable hand answered for her. “Les papiers indiquaient qu'elle avait été formée en anglais, monsieur. [The paperwork said she was trained in English, sir.]”

“Ah, c'est ça le problème alors. Eh bien, elle saura ce que cela signifie. [Ah, that’s the problem then. Well, she’ll know what this means.]” And he clicked his tongue at her to begin walking.

She set off around the perimeter of the fence, but her eyes were wide and her ears were still down. Chidi was watching from the gate, completely tense. Vincent couldn’t understand why he was being so uptight about this. “Tu vois, Chidi? Elle m'aime bien. [You see, Chidi? She likes me.]”

He clicked again and squeezed at her sides, urging her into a trot.

That was all it took. She’d had it, and bucked. Vincent dug in stubbornly – he had indeed broken horses before, and he knew how to hang on – but she was of another sort entirely. She did a kind of sideways leap, at once violent and fluid in its motion, and he felt the sharp rush of air from his lungs as the ground knocked the wind from him. It didn’t seem possible to get air back inside his body, and only after a moment of gasping did he register intense pain in his head. Licorne, meanwhile, was making screeching, wild whinnies, and he could tell by the sound that she was running circles around the corral in search of escape.

Her commotion was matched only by Chidi. He had rushed into the corral immediately, ignoring the danger she posed, and pulled Vincent into his lap, cradling his head. “Marquis! Es-tu blessé? [Marquis! Are you hurt?]”

“…Je ne sais pas. […I don’t know.]” He felt terribly dazed. He should be protesting, but instead he found himself leaning into Chidi’s shoulder as he was lifted and carried out through the gate, the stable hand making way for them. Chidi sat him gently onto a bench and started shouting at the stable hand to get a doctor.

“Je vais bien. Je vais bien, j'ai juste besoin d'air… [I’m alright. I’m alright, I just need air…]” Oh. He seemed to be hugging Chidi rather desperately. At least the man was hugging him back, thank goodness for that.

Chidi, for his part, was fuming. The second that Vincent’s grip started to loosen, he was on his feet with his gun drawn on the horse, over the fence. She seemed to sense what that meant and reared in panic.

“NON! Ne le faites pas! [NO! Don’t!]” Vincent came between them in an instant.

“Cet animal est dangereux, monsieur. Ça t'a fait mal. Il faut qu'il meure. [This animal is dangerous, sir. It hurt you. It needs to die.]”

“Ne lui tirez pas dessus ! Elle me fera confiance, je sais qu'elle le fera… [Don’t shoot her! She’ll trust me, I know she will…]”

Chidi reluctantly lowered his gun and moved to steady Vincent instead, who had stood up much too quickly after all that. He leaned back against the fence, deflated and holding onto Chidi’s hand. “Ce n'est pas sa faute. C'est tellement frustrant… les animaux ne m'aiment jamais, Chidi. Je ne comprends pas pourquoi. [It’s not her fault. It’s just so frustrating…animals never like me, Chidi. I don’t understand why.]”

“Vos autres chevaux vous aiment très bien, monsieur. Je pense qu'il y a quelque chose qui ne va pas avec celui-ci. [Your other horses like you just fine, sir. I think there’s something wrong with this one.]”

“Non,” he said quietly. “Finalement, ils le font, mais ils mettent toujours plus de temps à me faire confiance qu'à quiconque. [Eventually they do, but they always take longer to trust me than anyone else.]” He pulled off his helmet and rubbed at his head, wondering if he had a concussion. He wished he didn’t feel so much like crying all of a sudden, all over being thrown from some stupid horse.

But Chidi was looking at something behind him.

He glanced behind him to see that Licorne Dorée had approached the fence. She was sniffing cautiously at his shoulder, as if in apology.

“Ne bouge pas, Chidi. [Don’t move, Chidi],” he whispered. “Peut-être que si nous ne lui faisons pas peur... [Maybe if we don’t scare her…]” Neither of them moved at all until, very slowly, Vincent opened his hand for her to sniff. This time, she nuzzled into it, and let Vincent start stroking the bridge of her nose. His heart absolutely melted. “Tellement adorable, regarde ça. Quel bon cheval. [So adorable, look at this. What a good horse.]”

Chidi smiled at the pair of them, finally relaxing. “Elle a dû te voir me rabaisser. [She must have seen you talk me down.]”

“Fille intelligente. Elle sait que dans ce monde, on ne peut vraiment faire confiance qu’à ceux qui sont allés jusqu’à nous sauver de la mort. [Clever girl. She knows that in this world, only those who’ve gone as far as saving us from death can truly be trusted.]” He looked at Chidi meaningfully, and saw the same knowing tenderness answering his own.

“Pensez-vous que j'ai le cœur pur, Chidi? [Do you think I am pure of heart, Chidi?]” His tone was playful, but he still felt something sorrowful nagging at him from within.

“Oui Monsieur. Pure quoi, je ne sais pas, mais je n’ai jamais rencontré quelqu’un d’aussi pur que toi. [Yes, sir. Pure what, I don’t know, but I’ve never met anyone as pure as you.]” Licorne Dorée nosed at his cheek, and if she was trying to cheer him up, it worked. He knew then that he was going to love this horse…whether he ever rode her or not.

[what-if-queen-camilla]

Chapter 10

Foreword:

Thank you all sooo much for all your comments and feedback! That really is the best motivation and I'm always happy to try and take your suggestions into account on the next chapters... Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this one as things are getting serious now...

04th August 1987 - Part 1

Middlewick House, Wiltshire

Sighing Camilla rolled to her left side in order to check the time, at least for the 30th time that night: Quarter past midnight. Gosh, she was tired. She hadn't slept properly in more than two weeks: it had been some hot and humid past weeks, not even the nights had brought a cool down, and being heavily pregnant that awful heat made her struggle even more. They had sent Tom and Laura to Dorset to stay with Annabel and Simon and spend some time with their cousins while Andrew had agreed to stay with her until the birth and the baby was due every day now. Thank goodness, Camilla thought, tenderly stroking her meanwhile huge bump. It really was high time now, especially with these insane temperatures it really wasn't fun being pregnant anymore. So far she had been blessed with a happy and healthy pregnancy, the little girl had been developing and growing excellently and she was expecting a smooth and easy birth, hopefully sooner rather than later. She couldn't wait to hold her daughter in her arms, neither could Charles, though she was concerned about whether he could really manage to be in her life as "just Sir", a family friend, like he was for Tom and Laura, who adored him, or whether it was going to break his heart at some point. Officially, Andrew was going to be her father, all rights and responsibilities included. With the publication of Queen Elizabeth II's list of birthday honours, she had at least realised what had led Andrew to change his mind about the whole thing. She didn't believe for a second that there wasn't a "connection" between this and his appointment, not only as a Colonel but also as a Silver Stick in Waiting to Her Majesty The Queen, but she had decided not to ask questions. For the moment, she was just grateful for her husband's support, though she was worried about whether he would ever be able to really accept the little one and show her at least a little bit of love, as everything else would not only be cruel but also suspicious. With twelve and nine years old respectively, Tom, and especially Laura, who was particularly attentive and sensitive, were old enough to notice if something wasn't right and the last thing she wanted was to burden her children with anything. They had both been excited and overjoyed when they had told them that they were going to be a big brother (again) and sister, though Tom had seemed a bit disappointed at first that it wasn't a boy but he had meanwhile come to terms with it and Laura had taken her responsibilities as a big sister very seriously from the beginning, had helped her preparing and decorating the nursery for the little one and gathered together hundreds of her own, beloved cuddly toys, dolls and children's books so that her little sister would have everything she needed right from the start. The only critical moment had been when she had suggested that the baby should be named Diana, after the beautiful Princess of Wales, of whom she, like probably every little girl across the United Kingdom, was a huge fan. Camilla had however convinced her that that might not be a good idea as it would probably confuse Sir and Laura had agreed and eventually they had decided on Theodora, a beautiful Greek name with the even more beautiful meaning "gift from God", which had Andrew rolling his eyes at first but since Laura loved it so much, especially as it rhymed her own name, he had finally given his approval as well. Charles, of course, had been delighted, had he been the one to suggest the name in the first place, because of its meaning and because of his own Greek blood and passion for the country and its mythology. For the middle name, they had decided on Sonia, after her beloved grandmother who had sadly died last year. Her parents had been over the moon with the prospect of being grandparents once more, and her brother Mark couldn't wait to be an uncle for the sixth time either. Sometimes she was so over the moon that she almost forgot that her baby wasn't Andrew's and she kept praying that the little one was not going to resemble her real father in any way.

Suddenly Camilla felt an enormous wave of pain going through her lower body; she had been having these terrible false contractions for a couple of days now but surely time hadn’t come yet. She had had two babies, she knew how it felt. She tried to breathe calmly and, thank goodness, the pain faded after a few moments. She closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep, when suddenly another wave of pain hit her, this time so bad that she couldn't breath for a couple of seconds. Damn, was that really only false labour? When the pain had faded again, she carefully got up and slowly walked around in the darkness. Perhaps she had just laid in an odd position and it would disappear if only she… "Oh…", she winced as the next wave hit her and forced her to lean against the wall as she was hardly able to stand through it. "Fuck!", she hissed, trying to fight back tears. God, she had forgotten just how painful it was to have a baby. Perhaps she should wake up Andrew, just in case things were going to get faster than expected. Her husband’s bedroom was at the other side of the house and she had to stop for three more labour contractions while making her way through the long corridor on the first floor and she was super relieved when she finally reached the door. Before she knocked on it, she took a few seconds and said a quiet little prayer to thank the Lord for everything that Andrew had been doing for her recently. Yes, he hadn’t always been the best husband and hadn’t always treated her the way she had wished for but the way he’d been supporting her over the last few months, the fact that he had agreed to have this baby with her, be a father for the little one, and even now, was here, with her, not at another fancy party in London but with her, to look after her and be there in case… before she could finish her thoughts, she was hit by another contraction that almost brought her on her knees and she didn’t even have to knock the door anymore; Andrew had woken up by himself, switched on his nightlight and, randomly following an instinct, got up to find his wife on the floor in front of his bedroom, tears in her eyes, and obviously in heavy pain. “Milla!”, he almost screamed in concern and rushed over to her, kneeled down beside her, trying to supervise the situation. “What’s the matter?” “It’s going so fast…”, she moaned breathlessly, when another wave of pain yerked through body. “Shit!”, Andrew exclaimed, slightly overwhelmed. “Okay, okay… um… fine. We should get ourselves ready and get you to the hospital!”, he added, trying to help her up again when she was hit by another heavy contraction, digging her nails so tightly into his shoulders that he started to bleed. “God Milla!”, he sighed in pain but before he could even think any further, she looked at him, her eyes as wide as a football pool. He looked down and saw a little puddle: her water had broken. "Fuck. Um, okay, Milla, don't worry. We don't have to change our clothes, let me just quickly get the car keys and we're off immediately …" "Andy!", she interrupted him anxiously, once more painfully digging her nails into his flesh, looking at him in panic. "We're not going anywhere. We don't have time. The baby's coming…"

[newvision]

Poems/books for being seventeen?

Silas Denver Melvin, from Grit

I saw an exquisite pink and blue shell on the sea-bottom. I dove for it, and held it, smooth and hollow in my hand all the morning. I decided it was a lucky charm, and that I would keep it. I am surprised that I have not lost it, for I lose everything. Today it is still pink and warm as it lies in my palm, and makes me feel like crying.

Françoise Sagan, from Bonjour Tristesse (1954) // movie still from Bonjour Tristesse (1958)

Kara Jackson, Teenagers Are Not Exempt From Poetry (read full prose piece here)

Some recommendations of books I’ve read that deal with girlhood or being a teenager (not my faves, but enjoyable. Probably wouldn’t read them again, but objectively literature that might be of interest to you):

Brutes — Dizz Tate

The Virgin Suicides — Jeffrey Eugenides

The Ice Palace — Tarjei Versaas

Teenage Wasteland — Anne Tyler

Normal People — Sally Rooney

My Dark Vanessa — Kate Elizabeth Russell

We Were Liars — E. Lockhart

my notes on each recommendation:

SEVENTEEN: Exactly what being seventeen felt like to me. He has absolutely beautiful poetry on age, Seventeen is the first of those in the collection. I’ve loved measuring my growth by how I relate to these poems. You can download the entire collection for free, just check out his account @sweatermuppet, I’m sure he has a link somewhere (or drop him an ask)! One of my favourite collections, it really embodies the feeling of being young, so the rest of the poems might also be of interest to you. I find myself rereading them all of the time. Love your work, Silas! Can’t wait for more poetry

BONJOUR TRISTESSE: I don’t remember the protagonist’s age exactly, but the author was seventeen when she wrote it. Very breezy, very summery, contains the whole spectrum of teenage emotions, from raging anger to audacious freedom. The protagonist is both astute and very childish. This book is so obviously written by a teenager, and I mean this as the highest compliment. You don’t get adults writing about being seventeen like that. She is seventeen. Seventeen is this story’s essence. I haven’t seen the movie, but it’s on my watchlist. Heard it’s good though!

TEENAGERS ARE NOT EXEMT FROM POETRY: I read this the other day and think it would have been very affirming for teenage me, who felt insecure about reading and writing poetry. Some lines really stuck with me and I think the writer’s youthful voice captures the solace teenagers might find in poetry very well. There is a freshness to that discovery. I remember reading Ginsberg for the first time and life feeling ten times wider even though my English was not broad enough for me to understand his work in its entirety. Discovering art at that age is a privilege, I believe most people will struggle to feel the same awe and wonder in later years. The author of this prose piece mentions many different poems that might interest you!

BRUTES: Read it last year and honestly found it kind of disappointing. Very interesting style, though, as most (all?) of it is written from the perspective of a group of teenage girls, using ‘we’ and ‘us’ instead of ‘I’ and ‘me’. I think I would have liked it a thousand times more, had I read it earlier in life. Fantastic book cover

THE VIRGIN SUICIDES: Very obviously written by a man, but nevertheless an interesting study of teenage love and obsession (there’s an excellent movie adaptation by Sophia Coppola!)

THE ICE PALACE: If I remember correctly, the protagonists are younger than seventeen, but it’s a very moving story about how young people grieve. Norwegian author, which I found very interesting, as I haven’t read a lot of Scandinavian literature

TEENAGE WASTELAND: Not for me, this one! But you might have different taste. After reading some reviews, it seems like people either hate or love this short story

NORMAL PEOPLE: I am not a huge Sally Rooney fan, but I do understand why people adore her so much. I thought Conversations With Friends was a better book, but that’s partly because I found it more relatable. Normal People is a very intelligent story on young love, class differences and the reality of many relationships. The opposite of a ‘happily ever after’ book, left me feeling unresolved and unsatisfied, as I believe it intended

MY DARK VANESSA: I’m not sure if recommending this too a teenager is wise, but it is certainly a very good book. Heavy stuff, though. Deals with emotional manipulation and violence directed at a teenaged girl in form of a predatory relationship. Rarely read something that made me feel so uneasy by manipulating me as the reader. I read it as a teen and it impressed me very much! Be safe, please. If you are easily disturbed, check any content warnings!

WE WERE LIARS: Something suspenseful that will suck you in, a summer-y and kind of light book. Definitely entertainment literature, but there’s nothing wrong with that. Probably won’t change your life, but also won’t bore you. Cool friendship dynamics between teenagers!

[ereborne]

Hey hey, sliding this in under the door in the morning:

For the book as meme, 4 (fav sci-fi), 13 (fav thriller), and 37 (least fav trope used in a way that works for you)?

Did not actually read-read the other responses yet, so questions may have duplicated.

4) Favorite sci-fi: The answer I gave carrionfourth was: "The Ship Who Sang and Dragonsdawn by Anne McCaffrey. Ancillary Mercy by Ann Leckie. Exit Strategy and Network Effect by Martha Wells. The Galaxy and the Ground Within by Becky Chambers. Rescues and the Rhyssa by TS Porter". I stand by all that, it's absolutely correct, but now I'm also thinking about Anne McCaffrey's works in general, and the incredible impact it had on me when I was a kid, to see her work her worldbuilding around so that she had fantasy staples like dragons (the Dragonriders of Pern) and unicorn girls (literally she named that series 'Acorna the Unicorn Girl'. I am in awe) and selkies (the Petaybee serieses) but with so much space travel and science around them that the books themselves still felt clearly sci-fi. She's not the only one, not by a long shot, but she was the first I read, and she changed the way I thought about genre conventions on a fundamental basis. There's a good chance that without her, I wouldn't have ever bothered reading any sci-fi, actually. There was a little chunk of time there where it seemed very much to me that fantasy books were for people (mostly girls) who liked animals and cared about having friends and sci-fi was for people (mostly men) who liked being very smart and having other people be afraid of them, and if I'd kept going with that mentality I think I'd be a much unhappier person today.

13) Favorite thriller: Well, having just said all that about being so glad I was taught to think outside the genre binary as a child, now I must confess I don't read a lot of thrillers. There's a level/type of suspense that just translates as stress to me, in a way I don't particularly enjoy (I watched a couple episodes of the Fargo show with Duncan and the intensity kept ramping up and when we turned the tv off my neck and shoulders ached. I'm just not good at it). I do really like mysteries--favorite mystery novel is probably The Secret of Chimneys by Agatha Christie; I mostly preferred the Marple shows but I love the Poirot books--and romantic suspense is great--Elizabeth Lowell (fave Lowell book is Always Time to Die) and Jayne Ann Krentz (Lie to Me) are both fantastic romantic suspense writers--and the crossover of both that is the JD Robb In Death series is an unending delight to me. But mostly I'd say I go for mysteries or adventures over thrillers.

37) Least fav trope used in a way that works for you: I really love The Last-Herald Mage trilogy by Mercedes Lackey, even though it has a tremendous amount of angst and suffering compared to my normal tastes, kills off the main character's love interest in the first book, and then has him show up again reincarnated to pair off with the main character once more. Only Mercedes Lackey could keep me genuinely invested through that storyline. Azure Bonds by Kate Novak and Jeff Grubb, also: amnesia, followed by false memories, with a final flourish of 'am I even a real person if these are my origins', but actually the book's a heckin romp. It's the first in the Finder's Stone trilogy, which is overall deeply entertaining but a real nightmare to try to explain or describe to people who haven't read it.

[kitkatt0430]

Star Trek TOS for the fandom ask game!

Character I first fell in love with:

So this is another sci-fi series I was introduced to very young. When I was little I'd grab the VHS tapes of marathons my parents had recorded and watch them obsessively for TOS and TNG.

But first favorite character. Um... Either Spock, Scotty, or Uhura. I really don't know which. Definitely one of those three though.

Character I never expected to love as much as I do now:

Yeoman Rand. She was a quickly dropped character from the first season and I don't think she made much of an impression on young me. But older me is well aware of what happened behind the scenes and what her character was meant to be... and honestly I love this character now. Janice is a really sweet, likable woman. She's friends with Sulu, she's patient with a socially stunted teenager with a crush on her, she has this mutual attraction with Kirk that neither act on because they respect each other too much as coworkers to risk ruining that...

She's this complicated and lovely character and the actress who portrayed her deserved so much better than she got. She does show up in the movies, however, so I'm glad that Janice got to have a good career in Starfleet.

(Seriously, though, Janice was supposed to be a pretty major role and what happened to Grace Lee Whitney is appalling.)

Character everyone loves but I don’t:

I don't know that there is one?

Maybe Gary Mitchell? I don't know how well liked he'd be considered, but he's an entitled ass. Not really sure how Kirk was friends with him even pre-psionic powers/a-god-am-I breakdown, because this guy treated women kinda... badly. He set Kirk up with a woman as a distraction attempt while taking Kirk's class at the Academy. Behaved like an entitled asshole when Elizabeth Dehner shot him down - using what I recognize now as some pretty aphobic language. And he was pretty shitty to Spock too.

I would have preferred him to have been the villain played by Cumberbatch than Khan but that's in part because he would have made such a perfect foil to new!Kirk. (And then you don't have to explain why a white guy is playing an Indian character...)

There's also The Companion but if I start talking about that clusterfuck I will probably forget to answer the rest of the questions due to losing my temper over that particular... episode. (It is bad though and I'd happily... well, not happily but I would rant about it if asked.)

Character I love but everyone else hates:

Similarly, I don't know how much Elizabeth Dehner is liked, but I really love her. I read her as aspec and career focused. She gets super powers that have already made someone else (admittedly someone who was already an entitled twit) go all 'a god am I' but she still keeps her compassion. She still recognizes that no, actually, they don't have the right to rewrite reality to suit their whims.

She saves Kirk at the cost of her own life. And I will never forgive new!Trek comics for writing her off as barely a footnote, Bones' ex who won't set foot on the ship because he's there. >_<

Character I used to love but don’t any longer:

I don't know that I've got an answer to this one. All those beloved characters.

Character I would kiss:

No kissing, but I bet Uhura gives the best hugs.

Character I want to slap:

In the Galileo Seven episode I want to slap Bones and a few other minor characters for the way they treat Spock.

A pairing I love:

Kirk/Spock, but I have to admit new Trek had me taken a second look at Spock/Uhura

A pairing I hate:

Hmmm... I don't know? There are a lot of one off ships for Kirk that I'm not fond of for various reasons. Some because he's pretty clearly only manipulating the situation to protect his crew. Some because he's not actually in a position to consent and the power imbalance - memory manipulation/amnesia/external threats - makes the whole thing pretty awful.

Elaan/Kirk is one that very much sticks out because he's literally brainwashed by her tears.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 12

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (However they are very few so those under the age of 18 can still read a majority of this book. However please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

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𝕴 𝖑𝖊𝖋𝖙 𝖀𝖒𝖇𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖌𝖊'𝖘 detention with Harry, my hand burning with pain. I went up to the Gryffindor common room with him. Hermione had our bowls of murtlap solution waiting for us.

"I still reckon you should complain about this." Ron said in a low voice as Harry and I took our seats. Crookshanks leapt up on Harry's lap and he scratched his head with his left hand.

"No" Harry and I said flatly together.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew-"

"Yeah, she probably would. And how long d'you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?" Harry asked in a dull voice.

"It's like a communist takeover!" I said in an angry voice. Harry and Ron looked at me confused but Hermione said, "That's not a bad comparison."

"You're going to have to explain that." Ron said. "Is that a Muggle term?"

I nodded. "There's only a couple communist countries: Russia, China, North Korea, Vietnam, and Cuba. Basically, they have one person who runs the entire country and what they say goes- a dictatorship almost. Disobedience is punishable by death in some cases. Take China for instance. You can only have one child. If you have a second child, well you'd better kill it or the entire village is going to be punished for breaking the law. Historians have found wells that are filled with the skeletons of baby girls because the Chinese kill girls more than boys because boys are valued higher in their society."

Ron looked absolutely revolted and Harry was nodding his head slowly, "So the Ministry is like China and we're like a different country they're trying to take over?"

"Something like that." I said. "But more along the lines of being a state that is technically controlled by China, but had some freedoms, but now China is taking over again so they are pressing the ideals down on us harshly."

"She's an awful woman." Hermione said, coming back to the topic of Umbridge, "Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in. . . we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison." Ron said in a grim voice and I laughed.

"No. . . I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any defense from her at all." Hermione said.

"Well, what can we do about that? 'S too late, isn't it? She got the job, she's here to stay, Fudge'll make sure of that!" Ron said through a yawn.

"Well. . . you know, I was thinking today. . . I was thinking that- maybe the time's come when we should just- just do it ourselves." Hermione said in a nervous voice, shooting an even more nervous look at Harry.

"Do what ourselves?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Well- learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves." Hermione said.

"Come off it." Ron said, groaning. "You want us to do extra work? D'you realize Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week?"

"But this is much more important than homework!" Hermione exclaimed and the three of us goggled at her.

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework." Ron said in a frightened voice, exchanging a look with Harry.

"Don't be silly, of course there is! It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year-"

"We can't do much by ourselves. I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose-" Ron said in a defeated sort of voice.

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books. We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."

"If you're talking about Lupin. . ." Harry started slowly and I looked up quickly at Hermione.

"No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin. He's too busy with the Order and anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that's not nearly often enough."

"Who, then?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm talking about you, Harry."

There was a moment of silence. That made the most sense I supposed.

"About me what?" Harry asked.

"I'm talking about you teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts." Hermione explained in apparently a simpler manner.

"That's an idea." Ron said.

"What's an idea?" Harry asked. I wondered if he could hear anything they were saying.

"You. Teaching us to do it." Ron explained.

"But. . ." Harry was grinning and I realized he thought that they were joking.

"They're not joking." I said softly, looking at him. "We want you to teach us."

"Why don't you teach?" Harry asked. "You've been with me every step of the way and you know more Elizabeth!"

I shrugged. I couldn't really debate this except by saying, "Technically, I was only there. But still, you got rid of Quirrell on your own, killed the Basilisk, got rid of the dementors, and dueled Voldemort all by yourself. Yes, Hermione, Ron, and I helped you part of the way with Quirrell but in the end, it was you. Yes, Ron and I were there for the basilisk but in the end, you're the one who killed it-"

"With you shouting instructions at me!" Harry cried, exasperated. "Listen to me!" Ron and Hermione were wearing smirks but I wasn't. "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you put it like that Elizabeth, but it was all luck or you or Hermione or Ron guiding me. I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of and I nearly always had help-"

I wished that Ron and Hermione would drop their smirks because I knew it was going to piss Harry off. "Don't sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn't I? I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because- because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right- but I just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing- STOP LAUGHING!"

The bowl of murtlap essence fell to the floor. I sighed, closing my eyes.

"You don't know what it's like! You- none of you- you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you're sure you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own- your own brain or guts or whatever- like you can think straight when you know you're about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die- they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that- and you two sit there acting like I'm a clever little boy to be standing here alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up- you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me-"

Tears fell out of my eyes. Cedric wasn't stupid. He just wasn't prepared. If I'd just told him. . . Don't blame yourself Elizabeth. . .

"We weren't saying anything like that mate. . . We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't- you've got the wrong end of the-" Ron stuttered.

"Harry, don't you see? This. . . this is exactly why we need you. . .We need to know what it's r-really like. . . facing him. . . facing V-Voldemort." Hermione stuttered too. I opened my eyes in shock and stared at her. Had Hermione really used Voldemort's name?

Apparently she had because Harry seemed much calmer and he sat down. He was staring at his hand, wincing in pain. I took my hand out of my bowl and handed it to him, "Here." I said, wiping tears off my face. "Cedric. . . Cedric was brave. . ." I whispered.

"I know." Harry said.

"Well. . . think about it. . . Please?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded, looking ashamed of himself for making such a scene. I was surprised no one had come down here to see what was going on.

Hermione stood up. "Well, I'm off to bed. Erm. . . 'night." She said and headed off to the dorms.

"Coming?" Ron asked Harry awkwardly.

"Yeah. In. . . in a minute. I'll just clean this up." Ron nodded and left.

"Reparo." Harry said, pointing his wand at the bowl. He turned to me, "So. . . this teaching thing. . ."

I shrugged. "I see you eventually accepting but don't worry about it for another two weeks, okay?"

I left the room, realizing that I only had one more more night before I could take the Mandrake leaf out of my mouth.

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖉𝖆𝖞, I woke up, feeling startled and panicky. What was the next step for the Animagus spell? I quickly hurried to the closet I had locked and unlocked it. I collected the Dew drops and hurried then hurried back up to my dorm. I had my crystal phial that received pure moon rays and put the mandrake leaf inside of it and then added one of my own hairs.

My mouth felt so weird without the leaf in it. A sort of relief and also a sort of 'oh no, somethings missing' feeling. Then, I dropped the dew into the phial and then carefully added the Chrysalis of a Death's-head Hawk Moth to the phial as well. Then, I rushed back down the stairs to find a quiet dark place. I already had a place in mind.

I put the phial in a box and then put it in the closet that I had locked before. I put it on a bottom shelf in the very back corner. Then I locked the door again with two different spells. I was to leave it alone until the next electrical storm. I had no idea when that would be. Then, every sunrise and sunset I had to point my wand at my heart and say, "Amato Animo Animato Animagus."

The sun hadn't risen yet but the moment it did, I quickly placed my wand over my heart and said the words. Then, I hurried to breakfast and tried to forget about the box in the bottom of a locked closet.

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𝕴 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖉 𝕼𝖚𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 tryouts on Saturday. It looked like it was going to rain and I hoped there would be lightning. But first, I had to hope that the rain held off until Quidditch tryouts were over.

We were looking for a beater and a chaser. I still had Heidi and Malcolm, both in their seventh year. I had decided to take Cedric's place as seeker as we'd planned last year. Our Keeper was a sixth year and our beater was a sixth-year as well. It struck me weirdly that I was the youngest on the team at the moment and yet I was also the Quidditch Captain.

I thought I'd get some hate for it but Heidi seemed genuinely happy for me and said I deserved it. She helped me out with tryouts too. There were about fifteen or so Hufflepuffs that tried out for either Beater or Chaser.

In the end, I chose a boy who only went by his last name which was James to play in the Beater position. Zacharias Smith was chosen for Chaser.

"That went well." Heidi said happily at the end of the tryouts. "I thought you'd choose Daphne though, to be completely honest."

"I liked her." I admitted. "Much more than I like Smith. But he's a better player so we'll put up with him."

"What's that on the back of your hand?" Heidi asked suddenly. I stuck my hand in my pocket.

"Just don't get a detention with Professor Umbridge." I said coolly. "She'll make you right lines with a cursed quill."

Heidi shook her head. "What a witch. I can't believe you got detention already."

"Well." I said, smiling a bit sarcastically. "It was my fault."

We parted ways and I stayed outside, waiting for it to lightning. When it didn't, I gave up and went inside for dinner. Halfway through dinner, however, lightning flashed and I jumped up. Hermione gave me a peculiar look as I dashed out of the Great Hall. I fled down a flight of stairs and rushed to the closet, unlocking it.

I was trembling with excitement as I stepped into the closet. With trembling fingers, I pulled out the phial and held it up to the light. If you've done everything right then you will discover a mouthful of blood-red potion inside it. Then move somewhere where you aren't going to alarm anyone or place yourself in physical danger during your transformation.

The potion was. . . blood-red! I rushed out of the closet and tried to figure out where I wanted to do the transformation. After hesitating for a few seconds, I rushed down to the potions dungeon. No one was in there and I carefully thought of the next instructions:

Step 6: Place your wand-tip against your heart and speak. . . . . .the incantation 'Amato Animo Animato Animagus' and drink the potion. You will then feel fiery pain – lucky you – and an intense double heartbeat.

I quickly pulled out my wand and pointed it at my heart. It was pounding already. "Amato Amino Animato Animagus." I said clearly. Then I opened up the crystal phial and drank it down. It tasted like liquid brownie- much to my surprise. A burning feeling started up through my entire body and I felt the heavy, double heartbeat.

In my mind, there was the image of a cat and I latched onto it. A black cat with white paws. A black cat with white paws. A black cat with white paws. And then, I found myself much shorter than I had been before. I was also positioned weirdly, like my hands were on the floor too. I turned in a circle and caught a glimpse of a black tail with a white tip. My wand was on the floor too and with my white paws, I batted it under the desk. I pounced on my wand next and then rolled around on the floor.

I raised my paw to go in for a victorious kill when the door opened.

Professor Snape came into the room, closing the door behind him and then froze, seeing me there. I was equally still. He looked from the crystal phial and my bag on the desk to my wand under the desk and back to me. My tail was high in the air. My paw was still poised over my wand.

"Elizabeth?" He asked uncertainly.

I mewed, lowering my paw and sitting back on my haunches, tucking my tail around my paws.

He sat down in a chair. "You didn't tell me. . ."

I batted my wand towards me and mewed four times and I turned back into a human. "Well that was easier than I thought." I said out loud. Then to Severus I asked, "How cute did I look?"

He seemed to have lost his voice and finally he asked, "You became an Animagus?"

I nodded, "As long as Voldemort never finds out then I can hide-"

He was suddenly on his feet and I thought he might be upset about me using Voldemort's name- he hated when I did that. Instead, he picked me up and sat me down on the desk, making it easier to kiss me. "I always knew you were a genius." he muttered on my lips, "You taste like brownies." He added.

I was so taken aback by this reaction it took me a minute to explain what the potion tasted like. "Don't tell dad, or Sirius, or anybody." I said. "I want to surprise them, okay? "

"Sure." Severus said, not really listening. He was to busy running his fingers up and down my spine. I shivered and pressed myself tighter to him.

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𝕴 𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖉 𝕸𝖈𝕲𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖑𝖑'𝖘 classroom as a cat, waiting for her to come in. When she did come in, she didn't even notice me at first as I was sitting at a desk like a student, pretending something. When she put her bag down and looked out, her sharp eyes landed on me first.

I jumped from the table, down to where I had kept my wand. I had already practiced quite frequently so that I was getting used to the transformations and I turned back into my human form.

"Well, well. I'm impressed." Professor McGonagall said with a wry smile. "That'll be thirty points to Hufflepuff. Twenty for the transformation, ten for picking a cat. I happen to like cats."

I laughed, "Yes, I know you do."

"Now don't flaunt it Miss Kane." She added sternly. "There's a reason you're keeping this a secret."

"I know" I said, nodding solemnly. "Also, are we going to be doing private lessons this year? I understand from Professor Umbridge's speech that the Ministry doesn't seem to approve of the concept, but only Professor Snapes started lessons up again, and he only did so when I asked."

Professor McGonagall nodded, "We can't start up lessons until you ask because then we, as teachers, can say that you asked for the help and it's not favoritism. Keep that in mind if you want lessons with Flitwick too."

"Of course." I said. "I just got to figure out my schedule with Quidditch first."

"Well, you're keeping yourself out of detention, so that's something." Professor McGonagall said lightly.

"Just hope it stays that way." I mumbled. "Good night Professor."

"Good night, Miss Kane." Professor McGonagall said. I scooped my wand up off the ground. I couldn't wait until I could transform without a wand!

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𝕴'𝖉 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 number 127 to Sirius. I knew Hermione had the meeting set for twelve o'clock and I figured that the meeting would be over before then, which would give me plenty of time to carefully make my way up to the mountain to meet Sirius.

I had stayed behind for a few moments, debating whether or not I should pack a small lunch for Sirius and I before deciding against it. As a cat (though Severus said I was more of a kitten) I was too small to try and lug my bag up the mountain. I barely had the strength to carry my wand in my mouth as it was.

I ran to catch up with Hermione, Ron, and Harry who were talking about the letter Harry had sent to Sirius and how Filch had been tipped off that he was ordering dungbombs instead.

"He said he was tipped off you were ordering dungbombs? But who had tipped him off?" Hermione asked.

"I dunno." Harry said with a shrug. "Maybe Malfoy, he'd think it was a laugh."

"No." I said. "I think it was Umbridge, trying to figure out who you're writing to. I carry Sadie nearly all the way to the Hogwarts barrier and watch her till she's out of sight now so that Umbridge can't get into my letters."

"Where are we going anyway? The Three Broomsticks?" Harry asked as we made our way farther out of town. I saw him glance up at the mountain and then at me.

"Oh- no. No, it's always packed and really noisy." Hermione said, coming out of whatever she was thinking about, "I've told the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, the other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit. . . you know. . . dodgy. . . but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard."

"I think we're being followed." I said softly.

"By who?" Harry asked sharply.

"Dunno, I can feel it though. I think someone from the Order. . . it's a good feeling." I said, glancing over my shoulder. I don't know if I expected to see Kingsley or Tonks or who but I didn't see anyone but students.

I felt very excited about this meeting though I was also extremely apprehensive. There was someone in the Hog's Head we couldn't trust. . . now who was it?

We finally turned up a side street at the top of which stood a small inn. The sign hanging above it was battered and made of wood. The sign portrayed a severed boar's head leaking blood over a white cloth. I grimaced. The sign creaked in the wind, hanging from a rusty bracket.

"Well, come on." Hermione said in a nervous voice and pushed the door open. Harry was the first inside and I followed close behind.

The bar, in my opinion, was exactly how it should've looked. The lights were dim, the windows were grimy, there were tables stationed every which way. It smelled like some sort of barnyard animal. The people in the room were very strange as well. One was sitting at the bar, drinking a smoking drink. There were dirty gray bandages wrapping him up from head to toe. There was a witch wearing a thick, black veil sitting in the corner. I grinned. Mundungus.

"I don't know about this, Hermione. Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?" Harry muttered under his breath.

"It's not." I muttered back. The bartender who I recognized from Uncle Moody's old photograph to be Aberforth, was looking at us over the bar.

"Anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there's nothing she can do to stop us, Harry, because I've double- and triple- checked the school rules. We're not out-of-bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in Hog's Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And I've looked up everything I can think about study groups and homework groups and they're definitely allowed. I just don't think it's a good idea if we parade what we're doing."

"No." Harry said in a dry voice, "especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?"

"We just have to stay away from him." I whispered, jerking my chin at the man in bandages, "I get a bad vibe from him. Probably a Ministry spy."

Aberforth came out from behind the bar and approached us, "What?" He grunted. He was nothing like his brother.

"Four butterbeers please." Hermione said. I wondered vaguely why no one else recognized him.

"Eight sickles." He said, reaching under the bar and pulling out four dirty glasses and filling them with butterbeer.

"I'll get them." Harry offered and handed over the coins. We took our butterbeers and with my encouragement, we sat in the corner near the veiled witch. I'd winked at Mundungus as we passed.

"You know what?" Ron murmured. "We could order anything we like here, I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldn't care. I've always wanted to try firewhiskey-"

"You- are- a- prefect." Hermione snarled. I giggled.

"Oh, yeah. . ." Ron said and the smiled dropped off his face. I took a sip of butterbeer. It tasted about the same as the Three broomsticks so I drank the rest of it.

"So who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Twenty-five people if my visions are correct." I muttered. "Of course, I only saw Hermione talking to people and I talked to some extra people so it could be more than twenty-five."

"Twenty-five?" Harry asked but he didn't get a chance to add anything else because at that moment, the door to the bar opened.

Neville and Dean came in first and were followed by Lavender and the Patil twins. Then there was Cho and one of her girlfriends who's name I was pretty sure was Marietta. They were followed by Luna and then the three Gryffindor Chasers: Angelina, Alicia, and Katie. Then the Creevey brothers. Followed by them were Ernie, Justin, Hannah, and Susan to who I gave an enthusiastic wave. Then there were three Ravenclaws. I only knew Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot. Ginny was followed closely by Zacharias Smith. Heidi and Malcolm came in too which I was pleased about. Then there were was Rose Zeller who I'd invited along with James, the newest member of our team. Rose had a brought a friend from Gryffindor whose name I had no idea. The last three were Fred, George, and Lee.

Aberforth had frozen behind the bag, looking as though he couldn't believe how many people had entered his bar.

"Hi. Could we have. . . thirty butterbeers, please?" Fred asked, "Cheers. Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these."

I giggled.

"What have you been telling people?" Harry hissed at Hermione, "What are they expecting?"

"I've told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say." Hermione said in a soothing voice and then added, "You don't have to do anything yet, I'll speak to them first."

"Hi Harry!" Neville greeted him in an excited voice, sitting right in front of him. Susan and Ernie waved at me and I winked back, leaning comfortably against the wall. I was eyed the man in the bandages carefully, trying to see if he was going to be listening in. I wondered briefly if there was a charm to make people go temporarily deaf. I couldn't remember.

"Er. Well- er- hi." Hermione said, greeting the quiet crowd. "Well. . . erm. . . well, you know why you're here. Erm. . . well Harry here had an idea- I mean- I had the idea- that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts- and I mean really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us"

Brilliant speech Hermione. Try not to stutter so much next time.

"Here here!" Anthony Goldstein shouted out and Hermione looked greatly relieved.

"Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands. And by that-" Hermione looked over at Harry. "I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells-"

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?" The Ravenclaw that I didn't know asked.

"Of course I do." Hermione said. "But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because. . . because. . . Because Lord Voldemort is back."

I was still even more surprised that one, she'd used his name without stuttering and two, she'd said in the public.

Marietta shrieked, slopping butterbeer down her front. Terry gave a sort of twitch. Padma gave a shiver and Neville let out a yelp. All of them, however, looked at Harry in a eager, hungry, sort of way.

"Well. . . that's the plan anyway. If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to-" Hermione started.

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" Zacharias Smith asked rather aggressively and Heidi and I exchanged a glance. My cheeks reddened. Oh why had I let him on the Quidditch team?

"Well, Dumbledore believes it-" Hermione started.

"You mean, Dumbledore believes him." Zacharias said, nodding towards Harry.

"And me." I snapped at him and he lowered his gaze, a bit angrily. Oooh I loved being Quidditch Captain and prefect. "I foresaw it."

"Still!" Zacharias said, though he seemed to be picking his words carefully. "I think we've got a right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back."

"That's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about-" Hermione interjected swiftly but Harry interrupted.

"It's okay Hermione." He looked Zacharias straight in the face, "What makes me say You-Know-Who's back? I saw him. Elizabeth foresaw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting my afternoon trying to convince anyone."

"All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's boy back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know-"

I was finding it very hard to breathe. Zacharias hadn't known Cedric like I had. I had loved Cedric and here was Zacharias, throwing his name around casually with the word 'murdered'. I tried to swallow, but my throat was dry. Fred was looking at me, a worried expression on his face. I tried to reassure him, but my mouth didn't want to curve upwards.

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you. I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out!" Harry said angrily.

"But I will." I said, my eyes flashing. "The Cup was a portkey. It transported Ced and Harry to a graveyard where Voldemort was waiting for just Harry. He didn't need Cedric, so he killed him the way that Barty Crouch Jr. disguised as Professor Moody killed the spider on the first day of class. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were ogling at me and they weren't the only ones. I was fuming mad. Zacharias was staring down at the dirty floor again.

"So. . . so like I was saying. . ." Hermione said timidly and all attention turned back to her. "If you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to-"

"Is it true that you can produce a Patronus?" Susan Bones interrupted.

"Yeah." Harry said though he sounded a bit defensive about it.

"A corporeal Patronus?" Susan asked.

"Er- you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" He asked stupidly. He should've remembered the conversation between Madam Bones and I back at his trial.

"She's my auntie. I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So- is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes." Harry said again.

"Blimey, Harry! I never knew that!" Lee said, impressed.

"Elizabeth can do it too!" Harry said, throwing a panicked look at me. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Of course she can." Fred said and I glared at him. Some people laughed. "But mum told Ron not to spread around about Harry. She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong." Harry said and everyone laughed.

"And did you kill a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" Terry asked. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year. . ."

"Er-yeah, I did, yeah but E-" I stomped on his foot.

"And in our second year, he saved that Sorcerous Stone-" Neville said.

"Sorcerer's" Hermione hissed.

"Yes, that, from You-Know-Who." Neville said.

"And that's not to mention." Cho said and Harry, who had been trying not to look at her, was looking at her now. "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year- getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantulas and things. . ."

"Look." Harry said after a moment. "I. . . I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but. . . I had a lot of help with that stuff. . ." Harry said motioning to me, Ron, and Hermione.

"Not with the dragon, you didn't." the Ravenclaw boy I didn't know said. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying."

Rose's eyes were as big as galleons considering she hadn't been here in the past years. She was also the youngest one here besides her Gryffindor friend.

"Yeah well-" Harry said.

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer." Susan said.

"No. No, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is-"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" Zacharias asked. I think he meant to be joking with Harry, but Ron took offense to it.

"Here's an idea. Why don't you shut your mouth?" Ron asked sharply.

"Sorry Ron, only I can bully him." I said lightly.

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it." Zacharias said.

"Never mind, ya'll can bully him." I muttered.

"That's not what he said." Fred snarled.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" George asked pulling a shiny metal tool out of his Zonko's bag.

"Or any part of our body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this." Fred said.

I giggled and Hermione quickly regained the situation, "Yes, well. Moving on. . . the point is, are we agreed that we want to take lessons from Harry?"

There was a murmurs of 'yeses' and 'yeahs' and I felt a bit better about that.

"Right." Hermione said, looking relieved. "Well then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week-"

"Hang on." Angelina interrupted and at this rate I wondered if Hermione was ever going to get to speak. "We need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

"No, nor with ours." Cho said.

"Nor ours." Zacharias added, though he wasn't Quidditch Captain, and then flinched as Fred brandished the weapon.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone, but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters-" Hermione started again.

"Well said!" Ernie barked. I had definitely thought he'd have spoken sooner. "Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!"

"I second that." I said.

"I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells. . ." Ernie continued.

"Well." I said with a snort, "There's a very good reason that the Ministry gave us such a useless teacher. For one thing, the books, the lessons, her opinions, is to brainwash us to think the same. To make us all hate half-breeds like noble Centaurs and innocent Werewolves. Once we're brainwashed to think that way, we can start cracking down on Muggle-born witches and wizards. While Umbridge hasn't come out and said anything against them yet, I know that she absolutely hates Muggle-born wizards. But the main point in us not using magic, is because the Ministry believes that Dumbledore will use us as a private army to mobilize us against the Ministry so he can take over."

Almost everyone looked shocked at this news and some of the students, like Justin, Colin, and Dennis looked angry at the idea of learning to hate Muggle-born wizards.

Then Luna spoke and said, "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Yes, he's got an army of heliopaths." Luna said and I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.

"No, he hasn't." Hermione snapped.

"Yes, he has." Luna debated.

"What are heliopaths?" Neville asked.

"They're spirits of fire. Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of-"

"They don't exist, Neville." Hermione said in a tart voice.

"Oh yes they do!" Luna said angrily.

"I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?" Hermione asked.

"Hem, hem!" Ginny coughed and everyone looked around in alarm and then laughed. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and get Defense lessons?"

"Yes." Hermione said quickly. "yes, we were, you're right. . ."

"Well, once a week sounds cool." Lee Jordan said.

"As long as-" Angelina began but Hermione interrupted her.

"Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch." Hermione said. "Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet. . ."

"We'll decide that later." I said tartly. "For now however, I know that there is something else Hermione wants everyone to do."

Everyone looked at Hermione in curiosity and she pulled out a roll of parchment. "I- I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge- or anybody else- what we're up to."

Fred took out a quill and signed it immediately. George and Lee followed after that and I signed fourth, eager to put my name down. Some of the others, like Rose, Luna, the Creevy brothers, and Ginny followed just as eagerly.

Others however, seemed very hesitant.

"Er. . . Well. . . I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is." Zacharias said, avoiding my gaze. Ernie, however, was looking hesitant to.

"I- well, we are prefects." Ernie burst out. "And if this list was found. . . well, I mean to say. . . you said yourself if Umbridge finds out. . ."

"You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year." Harry reminded Ernie, who blushed.

"Ernie." I said warmly. "For one thing, Hermione isn't going to just leave the list laying around. We aren't stupid, you know that. And if I foresaw that the list was gong to be stolen, I'd intervene before it was."

"Ah, right, of course." Ernie said and promptly signed the paper. After the last person had signed- which of course was Zacharias- we stayed for a second later, feeling as though we'd signed some sort of contract which, in a way, we had.

"Well, time's ticking." Fred said, getting to his feet. "George, Lee, and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later."

Everyone got up and left. I said good-bye to Hermione, Ron, and Harry and hurried out of Hog's Head. I set up the street. It was nearly time. I ducked behind a building and waited for a couple of seconds but no one appeared and so I took out my wand and turned into a cat. Then, I gingerly picked the wand up in my mouth and gripped it tightly and took off running.

Running as a cat and running as a person were very different. Cats were much faster and I could leap much higher. Soon, my paws were thumping on the stones and up the mountain. I turned multiple times but I didn't see anyone and I skidded into the cave.

Sirius was already there and looked up, and then frowned at the cat. Then I turned into a human and he looked at me with the utmost shocked face I'd ever seen.

"You- You're an Animagus?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"A couple of weeks now. You gave me inspiration." I said, sitting down in front of him. "How are you?"

"Good." He said though he didn't sound like it. "I've stopped giving Kreacher's orders. I've been trying to keep an eye on him too."

"I just hope it's enough." I said. I ran a hand through my hair and then Sirius frowned.

"What's that on your hand?" He asked.

I looked down and then flipped my hand over. "It's nothing really, just some writing."

"It looks like its been carved into your skin." Sirius said, reaching for my hand. I pulled it back.

"Really, Sirius, it doesn't matter." I whispered.

"So how's Hogwarts?" Sirius asked, sitting back, still frowning.

I sighed. "It could be better. I mean, it's not bad, you know? Quidditch practice and homework and class. But I miss Hagrid and I absolutely despise Umbridge. I just. . . I get so angry around her when I think about everything she's doing against Werewolves and Centaurs and Merpeople. I mean. . . It's just so frustrating and I can't do anything about it! And. . ." I hesitated and then said, "I'm scared Sirius. I'm scared you're going to get caught. I'm scared that the Death Eaters are going to come and get you. I'm scared that Dad's going to get in trouble. I'm scared for Kingsley and Tonks and Uncle Moody and Snape and everyone in the order, even Mundungus."

Sirius reached out his arms and I gratefully hugged him. "I mean, I think I'm being stupid but every time I see you, I always feel that it's the last time I'm going to see you."

"Don't worry Eilís, I'm going to be around for a very long time."

"I really hope so." I murmured. "And also, I need you to promise something."

"Oh, and what's that?"

"Don't tell dad about me being an Animagus. I want to surprise him next time I see him, okay?"

"I won't tell him if you show me what's on your hand." Sirius said lightly.

I pulled back from the hug, looking stricken.

"Is it really that bad?" Sirius asked, frowning again. I looked away and held out my hand. He took it and read it. And then he read it again and then asked in a dangerous voice, "What the hell is this? As a werewolf brat, I should learn to keep my mouth shut?"

"Well. . ." I started out hesitantly, drawing my hand back. "I got detention with Umbridge for two weeks, right? And she made me write lines and this is what she made me write. I use a cursed quill so that the line imprints on the back of my hand."

"Go to Dumbledore." Sirius said flatly.

"What is he going to do?" I asked quietly. "Professor Umbridge has every right to decide what my punishment is for detention. Harry's got the words 'I must not tell lies' carved into the back of his hand."

"Yes! But this in an insult you've got carved into your hand!" Sirius said, on his feet now. "That's like if she had Hermione writing Mud-blood over and over!"

"Sirius, you don't think I know that? But if Dumbledore tries and confronts her about it, what good is that? Especially if he gets arrested or something. And it's not like the Minister will do anything about it- he pretty much agrees with her. And Dad? If you tell dad Sirius, I will never speak to you again."

It was an empty threat.

"You really think you can keep that from him?" Sirius asked.

"Yes, I do!" I said hotly. "And I'm going to, I don't care what it takes. There's makeup, there's spells, there's gloves. He's going to blame himself for this and I don't want him to! It's my fault! I told her to shut up and that dad was 10 times the wizard she was. It's my fault, not dads and he doesn't need to know."

We were both on our feet now, glaring at each other, and Sirius finally sat down, shaking his head. "Bloody hell Elizabeth."

"I know." I said, sitting down too. "By the way, I love your hair." He'd grown out to his shoulders now and they framed his face perfectly. Maybe I just had a thing for guys with long hair. Of course, I didn't like Sirius like Severus. I wondered briefly what dad would look like if he grew his hair out that long.

"Trying to change the subject?" Sirius asked.

"Of course." I said. "And now, you're going to keep both secrets, right?"

Sirius sighed, "I don't think you're going to be able to keep it from him forever but fine. I won't tell."

"Thank you." I said. "So tell me more about the Order."

"Well... I don't know much." Sirius admitted. "We still haven't heard from Hagrid. We never found Sturgis, though I suppose you read the article?"

I nodded, "It's like they knew I'd had a vision warning you guys and then hid him."

Sirius nodded, "Dumbledore's worried about that."

"Funny, he hasn't called me into his office yet." I said. "I've usually been his office three hundred times by now." I said lightly.

Sirius laughed. "Well, he's been busy. It's hard getting news now that we're all separated too. The teachers can't come here, we can't go there. Communications extremely difficult too."

I nodded, "I think pretty soon they'll start monitoring the fires so you need to be careful if you decide to pop in again."

Sirius scowled, "I see Harry didn't come."

I hesitated and then said, "Er well, I didn't tell any of them that you were coming.... actually..."

Sirius stopped scowling and looked at me in surprise, "Why not?"

I hesitated and dragged a finger in the dirt. "Well... see... I had a feeling that I shouldn't tell Harry about me being an Animagus so I didn't want him to come... the whole point of being an Animagus was so Voldemort couldn't find me and I think somehow... I don't know how yet... but I think somehow Voldemort could find out through Harry... I just don't know how yet... I'm sorry I didn't bring him..."

"Do you think... do you think he would have come?" Sirius asked hoarsely.

But at that moment, I heard footsteps outside the cave and we both froze and jumped to our feet. I snatched up my wand and raised a finger and dashed to the entrance. It was Hermione, Ron, and Harry. I sighed in relief.

"Hey, Sirius." Harry said awkwardly. "I wasn't sure if you guys would still be here or not..." He scuffed the ground with his foot.

"Legilimens." I whispered quietly, pointing the wand at Ron's back. I could see all Ron's memories and so I was convinced that it wasn't anyone with Polyjuice potion.

We chatted for another half hour and then Sirius said, "I really should get back. If anyone from the Order finds out I was gone..."

I kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "Keep my secrets."

He nodded and kissed my cheek back and then clapped Harry on the shoulder. He disapparated with a crack and we exited the cave, making our way back to the castle.

⬅️➡️

[alex-rambles]

Ok so like I never planned to share my ao3 but I am way too proud of this fic I wrote on it sooo

Feel free to check out my isekai self insert while you're there too. Just don't make fun of me.

If you don't wanna go to ao3...

You can read it here! On Tumblr! Yippee!

Gore warning

You had known, of course.

He told you. You were the only person he ever told.

The truth behind what happened that day in 1987, what happened to Elizabeth, the things he had done.

A disgusting man, yet one you loved nonetheless.

And because you loved him, you did nothing to stop him.

He told you that he had business to attend to in the pizzeria, he'd be back soon, but he didn't come back. 

And with his ramblings about remnant, about how the kids he killed possessed those robots, you couldn't help but consider the possibility that maybe those kids wanted their much-deserved vengeance. And considering that possibility? That made you anxious.

So after a while, you go there. 

The place is empty. The animatronics aren't even there. William is nowhere to be found. 

The safe room. He showed you how to enter, and if he isn't here, he must be there, so-

You are greeted by a horrific sight, and an equally bad smell.

The smell of death, and the look of a very, very bad accident.

Blood pools around a slumped Springbonnie suit, and instantly, you know what happened here. You're barely able to stifle a scream.

You walk closer. Blood- William's blood- gets on your shoes, an absolutely horrific sensation.

You know he's not alive, but you can't help but have that positively fantastical hope that maybe he could be alive. In more pain than one would ever be able to understand, but alive. He wouldn't leave you like this. He wouldn't! Not your William, not the one who whispered such beautiful things to you while you helped him fold laundry, not the one who was honest about his crimes for you and only you, not him, oh god, not him-

He's gone. All the blood, the way he's positioned, you can't hear even shallow breathing from inside the suit.

You pick up his hand, the hand inside the suit, and hold it for a minute, before slamming it on the ground suddenly.

"Why?!"

You speak- no, you scream- to his corpse.

He left you all alone, just because he was too scared of facing the consequences of his actions, because he had some stupid, unattainable desire for immortality! That's not fair!

You collapse onto your knees, tears falling from your eyes. 

Stupid leaky ceiling, stupid William, stupid children that took him away from you, stupid, stupid-

An idea occurs to you

The kids came back. Albeit stuck in probably painful robotic bodies, but technically "alive," yes? Why can't William?

You feel bad for thinking it, after all, it might hurt him to come back (not even might, it would for sure, being in a mechanical body would be awful), but you miss him already. 

As for how long that process takes? You'll wait. You'll stay in this silly room forever, if that's what it takes. Right here with him. You can stand the smell, it's just William.

He'll come back, and you'll be with him.

And you know that for sure, because there's a spare suit in here. Leaky roof should trigger the things easy enough. It'll hurt like hell for sure, but it'll be so worth it. 

You struggle to get the old Freddy Fazbear suit on, but you finally do.

A drop of water hits.

Snap

Snap

Click.

You scream.

[renegade-skywalker]

just felt like posting some pics and head canons for my OC bard, Merit 🥰

~~~

(this is mostly backstory but I'll probably add to this later and pin it somewhere idk)

Merit has seven sisters. She’s technically the second-oldest but has undoubted Eldest Daughter energy. The actual eldest sister is Fable. Her younger sisters are Morning Glory, Daffodil, Dahlia, Harmony, Festival, and Jovial (Jo for short). 

Part of the sisterly dynamic is inspired by the Bennet family of Pride and Prejudice though it’s definitely not a one-to-one comparison. Like Jane and Elizabeth, Fable and Merit are the eldest and are very close, having shared a room for most if not all of their lives. Like Jane, Fable is unendingly kind and soft spoken. Unlike Jane though, Fable isn’t interested in romance or a partner at all and is instead intent on opening her own business or taking over the family bakery. Like Elizabeth, Merit is known to be brash but eloquent about it (Vicious Mockery lol) but unlike Elizabeth, she’s the hopeless romantic. Also like Elizabeth, Merit loves to complain but does so in a jovial manner. Like Mary, Morning Glory is a bit off-putting but nice and straight-laced. Like Kitty and Lydia, Daffodil and Dahlia are vapid and boy crazy but are also hilarious and tons of fun to be around. The youngest sisters are a bit like the triplets from Brave in that they are simply a menace.

Her father is a wood elf of indeterminate age (I headcanon that he rarely speaks about himself and only very occasionally drops mind-blowing lore about his past in passing before leaving the room without any further elaboration lol) and is a (no longer practicing) druid though he still pays homage to Silvanus and will occasionally take his troupe of daughters out of the city and into nature to pay his respects. He left his old life behind to wander for a while before stumbling upon the wonders of simply baking bread when in Baldur’s Gate working an odd job and he’s been there ever since. He finds kneading dough to be meditative and soothing, and now runs a bakery with his human wife Alys, who is Way Too Hot For Him. Not that he’s an awful or hideous person, he’s just very, very old and very, very quiet where Alys is quite gregarious and social. No one understands their relationship but it’s something Merit has always admired growing up even if it’s often confused her.

Not sure why but they were somewhat inspired by Holling and Shelly from Northern Exposure which I’ve been watching all winter. Idk just I think they’re hilarious. Also running a store/restaurant together is a fun dynamic idk. 

Merit is closest to her oldest sister, Fable, who she is also the closest in age with. Fable was born sick and her mother had a difficult time with the pregnancy to the point that she thought neither she nor the baby would make it. Fable is named Fable because the idea of her making it into the world was like a dream. After her birth, their parents feared another child wasn’t in the cards and might spell death for Alys, so when Merit was born she was actually named Marvel. She hated that name so when she was six she dubbed herself Merit, because anything ‘worthy of merit’ that she did had to feel earned, whereas Marvel just made her feel like a fraud. Her parents and Fable still affectionately call her “Marv” though.

Merit picked up a love of storytelling from working the bakery with her parents, hearing the customers talk about their various backgrounds, their day-to-day routines, their travels, etc. 

She fell in love with music at 12 when a famous bard came to the city and performed for a while, a half-high elf named Laurel, who took a shine to her interest and taught her how to play. They remained pen pals for years even after he left Baldur’s Gate exchanging verse and ideas for songs, however their relationship was… complicated, and quite frankly inappropriate. Merit did not see it for what it was until she was much older.

Merit has a bit too many interests and has dabbled in fencing, languages, history, the arcane, and even what little druidic magic her father has taught her (she’s mostly familiar with animal speaking and plant growth) though her main love is poetry, song, the written, sung and spoken word. Her greatest ambition is to write an epic poem that can be performed in parts, essentially acting as a dramatic tome as well as what essentially is a concept album in our reality

Part of the reason Merit cannot see any of her ambitions through is a mix of her changing attentions which change with the wind’s direction but also her family… she’s often had to return to Baldur’s Gate to help the bakery, and her younger sisters are known for getting in trouble...

Merit has worked her way into the merchant’s guild on her parent’s behalf and has also done some work for the Guild in order to keep her family safe and unbothered, which is a secret she’s kept from them but had done for their safety

Her work pays for the family property’s “protection” so to speak. This would also mean she’s already acquainted with Nine-Fingers Keene before the events of the game.

She’s actually sacrificed a lot for the family business and is happy to do so but it is also to her own detriment. Fable has been able to man the kitchens but not much beyond that due to chronic pain and flare ups. The next eldest sister, Morning Glory, has a head for numbers and will work the books and run the orders but is such a downer that it makes working with her a chore and a nightmare, she’s incredibly controlling and neurotic. The next sisters capable of doing anything, Stella and Selene, are in their early 20’s and would prefer to socialize, party, and snog their way through Baldur’s Gate rather than do anything else. The very youngest sisters, Verity, Amity and Jo, are all too young to do much other than clean maybe but Merit would prefer they have a childhood than work the family business. Plus they are known for playing tricks on people so it’s best they stay out of the way.

Merit feels like she’s already raised a village of children given how much she’s helped raise her sisters practically since she was able to walk so she had zero interest in bearing children of her own. Not to mention how much she’s sacrificed to help the family business, she hopes to one day be able to see all of her dreams and artistic ambitions to fruition.

Merit has a few songs that have gained some popularity but only within Baldur’s Gate seeing as she can never seem to leave for very long. She is most known, however, for her serial called Sea and Shield. It’s a crime serial about a disgraced Flaming Fist who enlists the help of the last person he’s imprisoned, a notorious pirate, who he sets free on the terms that she help him discover who committed the murder he was framed for. It’s relatively popular but the series is unfinished, plus due to being kidnapped and tadpoled she is very very behind her usual publishing schedule. She has no idea how to continue (or possibly even end) the story though so she was already in a pickle before the game events occurred.