#there was Conviction in his voice. and secrecy

[writing-for-marvel]

A Solid Foundation

Builder!Bucky Barnes x Fiancé!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friend suspects your fiancé of having an affair when he starts working late, but Bucky would never cheat on you, right?

Warnings: slight angst - discussion of Bucky potentially cheating (no actual cheating), soft fluff

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: thank you so much for this gorgeous inspiration my love 💕 this is my second entry for the Connect 4: Into an Alternate June-iverse Event by @buckybarnesevents, for the prompt ‘Modern AU’. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

“Where’s Bucky? You two just got engaged, I would have thought he’d barely be able to keep his hands off you - he does at the best of times.” Nat jokes before taking a sip of her wine.

She had been stopping off at your apartment on her way home to drop some supplies for your engagement party next weekend, when you invited her to stay for a drink, wanting to take your mind off your fiancés absence.

“He’s been working late recently.” You try to say nonchalantly, but Nat’s far too observant to miss the disheartened edge to your voice.

“He’s a builder. Start early, finish early, what’s he doing still working at 6:30?” You didn’t know the answer to that question. And though part of you is curious as to what he’s up to, you’re also nervous to find out the truth.

It’s Bucky, the man who has loved you through every high and low, treasured every part of you, especially on those days where your insecurities were at their worst. Who has done the silliest, most embarrassing things just to hear your laugh. Who trusted you enough to reveal his deepest trauma, who comes to your arms for comfort through every nightmare.

You find it difficult to believe that man would be capable of hurting you, even knowing he hadn’t been completely forthcoming with you the past few weeks.

“I’m not sure, he’s been a little secretive since we got engaged. I don’t wanna push him to talk about it, I just wish he knew he can trust me with whatever it is.” You say as Nat supportively takes your hand, something of sympathy in her eyes.

“Oh sweetie, you are far too pure for this world. Working late, the ring, the secrecy - has it crossed your mind that he might be having an affair?”

“It crossed my mind for half a second before I scolded myself. It’s Bucky, he would never cheat on me.” You state with conviction, the memory of each night you’ve fallen to a peaceful sleep in Bucky’s arms only supporting your belief that he would never put himself in that position with someone else.

“As much as I want to believe you, you know I’m a cynic. In my experience men are pigs, you give them an inch and they take a mile. I know he’s sweet and you love him, but at the end of the day, he is a man.”

But Nat doesn’t know Bucky intimately like you do, hasn’t experienced his selfless and generous heart day after day for the past two years, hasn’t been loved all-encompassingly by him like you have.

You’ve never even thought to question his loyalty to you - Bucky has never given you reason to.

You hear keys rattle in the front door and shoot Nat a look which unquestionably screams don’t bring this up.

Bucky smiles instantly when he sees you seated at the dining table, that same adoration and serenity brimming in his eyes as when he always comes home to you. Though you do notice his skin is somewhat flushed, as if he’s just been physically exerting himself, his hair looks a complete mess and appears slightly darker with sweat.

You know exactly what’s running through Nat’s mind at this very moment.

“I’m gonna let you two talk.” She declares with a perceptible tension in her tone as she stands and grabs her purse. “But I swear if you ever hurt her Bucko, you’ll die a slow, painful death.” She vows with a glare that seals her promise. Though you know Nat well enough to perceive she isn’t joking, Bucky seems to think she’s kidding.

“Duly noted Nattie.” He chuckles as he watches Nat shoot you an encouraging look and then make her way out the front door Bucky just walked through. “What was that all about?”

“She’s just being protective.” You justify, not knowing how to, nor really wanting to tell him that your best friend suspects he’s having an affair. “I told her you’d been working late recently.”

“What… she thinks I should instead be here doting on you hand and foot?” Bucky asks as he moves behind where you’re seated, his hands reach for the back of your neck and begin massaging the tension from your shoulders which had built up from your long week at work. “You know I’d much prefer to be here with you than working.” You shudder slightly at his words as he places a gentle kiss to the skin where your neck curves into your shoulder, your body subconsciously revealing that you don’t fully believe he was working.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He asks, feeling your muscles tense even further underneath his hands, and you internally curse yourself for letting Nat’s speculation get under your skin.

“Where were you tonight?” It’s a simple, four word question, yet the weight of significance on his answer feels like your whole world could start crumbling before you depending on his response.

“I told you this morning: Steve needed me working late.” Bucky replies without hesitation. It’s a straightforward answer, yet there’s something about it you can’t quite believe - a half truth that he’s practised too much that doesn’t quite feel natural. “Why do you ask?” There’s a hint of worry to his voice, as if you’re getting a little too close to something he’d like to keep to himself.

“Nat thinks ‘working late’ is code for you cheating on me.” You comment, placing all the blame on your friends postulation rather than your own curiosity.

You hope Bucky won’t hate you too much for indulging in your friends theory, that he won’t completely resent you for insinuating he’s been unfaithful. Because you don’t think he’s cheating on you, but you also don’t believe he was working late tonight.

Instead, Bucky steps towards you and tentatively places two gentle fingers under your chin, tilting your face so that you’re gazing directly into his vulnerable, sincere eyes.

“Doll, you know I would never, ever, hurt you like that. I love you, you’re my whole world, I wanna marry you and spend the rest of my days making you feel as loved and cherished as you make me feel.” You sense the heaviness of your engagement ring on your left hand, you’re still getting used to carrying the small weight of it around with you everyday, though right now it feels substantial.

“I know you wouldn’t Buck, but since you proposed you’ve been a little secretive. Long days, working weekends. I mean you have to admit it’s slightly suspicious.”

He sighs, coming to some sort of internal decision when his gaze meets yours again. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you in an attempt to distract you from the topic of discussion.

“I promise you, I can explain everything, but I think it would be easier to show you.” His hands snake down your arms and when he takes both your hands, pulls you from your seated position at the dining table.

“Show me?” You query, having no idea what that could indicate he’s been keeping to himself.

“Yeah, care for a drive?”

* * *

The night is dark as you sit in the passenger seat watching the world pass you by, the empty roads only lit by periodically placed street lamps and the bright headlights of Bucky’s truck.

You have no idea where he’s taking you - you’ve never been to this part of town before and have no preconceived ideas as to what being here indicates for his unplanned surprise.

Bucky drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other rests comfortingly on your thigh, an indicator that he’s not upset about you insinuating he could be having an affair, and that where he’s taking you to is not a revelation you should be anxious about.

Soon enough he turns down an innocuous street and pulls the car to a slow stop. You're in the middle of a suburban area with expansive blocks of land, stopped a few metres behind an SUV that has stickers of a family of five and a dog on their back window. Looking over at Bucky, you find he’s staring at you with an excited expectancy from the driver's seat.

You turn to look out the car window and the reason Bucky’s been ‘working late’ hits you like a bus.

You’re parked in front of a half built house - at the moment it’s just studs and partitions, with an unemptied skip out the front, but you can see the skeleton of a beautifully spacious two story house.

He’s building you a home.

“Bucky…” You comment under your breath, unable to articulate the swarm of thoughts buzzing around your head and the pure love blooming in your chest like a flower as he rounds the car and opens the passenger door for you.

“I know it doesn’t look like much yet, it’s just the frame and foundation, but soon there will be a roof, walls, windows, and a proper floor. It’ll really start taking shape.” He's nervous, you can tell by his shaky tone of voice, which you find adorable.

“You’re building us a house?” Your stomach contorts with guilt when he smiles crookedly and nods. How could you have ever been suspicious of his long working hours when they were spent building a physical monument to his love for you?

“I wanted to build our dream house, somewhere we can grow old together.” Your heart just about bursts when these words fall from his lips. Though the night is dark, the moon and the small torch Bucky keeps in his truck are the only source of light available, you can see the fondness in his eyes.

You give him a sweet kiss before approaching the house, an outline in chalk on the ground indicates where a front porch will be built and the entry to the house is currently only the rectangular frame of timber.

Bucky starts walking you through the house hand in hand, explaining what he had planned each room to be used for. There's only wooden studs outlining every room and a concrete slab for a floor, but you can already imagine what the space will look like when it’s all complete.

The entry foyer has high ceilings where you can currently see the stars shining, a large winding staircase connects the ground floor with the one above. To one side is a large garage, an offset office and bathroom, to the other has a large sitting room.

As Bucky pulls you further into the structure, the house opens up to a large, open plan living area. You can picture cooking together in the kitchen, room enough for a large island where you can sit and watch as Bucky cooks you breakfast, sneaking kisses in between breaking eggs. A smile grows on your features as you imagine what the future holds for you two, and what you envisage is beautiful.

He shows you where he thinks the lounge room television would go, before steering you to the right to an open room where the walls don’t have horizontal studs like all the other rooms you’ve seen so far.

“And this will be your sunroom.” He comments, eying you with a smile as your jaw drops in awe.

“A sunroom?” You ask as your voice cracks and hot tears well in your eyes.

Your dream house always seemed so far out of reach, you wondered if you would ever earn enough to own a place of your own. But it didn’t stop you from wishing for your dream house. That concept had changed over the years, but the one aspect which remained the same was it containing a sunroom. A place where you could sit in quiet contemplation and read your plethora of novels in peace, the warm afternoon sun heating the room as you draped your legs over beloveds, finding tranquillity together.

Bucky really is making all your dreams come true.

“It wouldn’t be our dream home if we didn’t have the sunroom you always wished for. This entire wall will be a huge built-in bookshelf, then the rest will be just glass, looking out over our backyard and have the perfect view of the setting sun.”

You find yourself completely lost for words, unable to articulate how remarkable this entire house is, that he built it for you, and how you will forever come home to a physical reminder of just how much Bucky loves you.

“If there’s anything you don’t like I’ll change it. I want it to be perfect, I want you to love it.” He says as if he can’t see that you already adore every inch of the house he’s built, thinking that your silence indicates aversion rather than pure amazement.

“Bucky, it’s already perfect.” You lean over to kiss him, slow and sweet, because you need to express the overwhelming gratitude and affection for him doing something so special for you. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you when you were putting in your spare hours to build us a home.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry, doll, I shouldn’t have lied to you about where I was and what I was doing, but I wanted it to be a surprise.” His arms snake around your middle and pull you closer to him so none of the cool night air separates you.

“It is a surprise, such a wonderful surprise. I love you so much and I can’t wait to spend our life together here.” You say, looking up at him with wide eyes, only closing them to kiss the stubble on his sharp jawline.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know.” Bucky places a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft but heartfelt and full of tenderness.

For a moment you stay cuddled into his strong, warm chest, his arms gently stroking up and down your back in soothing motions, feeling completely loved and so excited to start your marriage in a new home together.

“Will you show me the bedrooms upstairs?” You ask with a small voice, part of you not wanting to move from Bucky’s embrace, but also intrigued to see how much more work he’s done in the name of love for you.

“Of course, my love.”

He kisses you once more, for emphasis, before guiding you carefully upstairs to show you the spacious master bedroom where you will be spending your first nights as a married couple.

If you're interested in seeing the floorplan I based the house off, you can find that here

[ohtobeleah]

California Fornication //

One — ‘That was Jake’

Summary: When the man you’d been seeing turned out to have a wife, your world came crashing down around you. While you tried your best to move onwards and upwards, the very reason for all your recent relationship problems comes strolling into the bar.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating. Love Triangle x2. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Jake Seresin xF!reader. Question ing Morality. Angst.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author Note: Based off the first scene Mark Sloan is in. Greys Anatomy.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It always plays on repeat in your mind like a slow motion picture, like a scene in one of those old timey movies where everyone and everything slows down so that the main protagonist can understand the situation unfolding around them. 

That moment where your boyfriend of only a few months— Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, told you that he was technically married, haunted you day in and day out. Married to the woman who’d come up to the pair of you in the locker room on base after she’d been transferred to North Island. She’d come waltzing over with a confident smile and a pretty face. She knew she was about to turn your life on its axis. 

For better or worse. 

“Y/n.” It wasn’t often people actually said your name, majority of the same it was your callsign—but the way the colour drained from Bradleys face as he turned to you with a gut wrenching look smeared across his usually perfect face, had your stomach churning. “I’m so sorry—“ 

“Hi, I’m Katie Bradshaw—“ The woman, who mind you, was stunning to say the very least, stuck her hand out to shake yours. You took it gracefully, with enough conviction in your grip to not have it show you were completely blindsided by that all too familiar last name. 

“Bradshaw?” You smiled softly as you sent Rooster a confusing look. He’d never mentioned a sister or a cousin before in the few months you’d been seeing and sleeping together. 

“I’m Rooster's wife—“ Those three words would forever haunt you. “And you must be the woman who’s been screwing my husband?” 

“Hey! Siren!” It was Phoenix’s voice that broke you out of the trance you’d fallen into as you showed. Her fist slamming against the shower door three quick and consecutive times made you jump a little as the warm water encapsulated you entirely. “You coming to the Hard Deck?” 

“Yeah yeah, just give me a few minutes!” You replied as you washed your face. “I’ll meet you guys over there.” It had only been three weeks since you called it quits with the mustache having aviator who had stolen your heart. The entire situation made you feel dirty. Even if you weren’t the one in the wrong. No amount of showering could wash away the dirty feeling you’d been left with. 

What could be worse than being branded the dirty mistress? That no one told you about the cheating scandal that had rocked the Bradshaws' happy marriage about a year ago. That was worse. 

Bradley swore black and blue he was going to tell you. He’d sworn the rest of the squad to secrecy about the details too. He wanted to be the one to tell you. To tell you that you were the first woman he’d been with since he’d walked in on his wife, Katie, and his best friend, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, in bed together. 

Still, the ultimatum was given. You’d asked Bradley to pick you, choose you, love you. But when the time came to decide he chose his wife. His reasonings were none of your business nor concern. 

And so you walked away. Labelled the mistress and the interim love affair. Even against the Chester you didn’t compare—and that crushed you completely. 

“You’ve been doing that an awful lot lately.” Pennys voice broke through the haze you’d fallen into at the bar. The drink you’d ordered, Gin Sour, sat in front of you on a Hard Deck coaster. “What’s on your mind daydreamer?” 

“More like a never ending nightmare Pen.” You sighed before reaching for your drink. “This whole situation makes me feel like I need a lobotomy.” 

“Rooster still trying to force a friendship?” In truth Bradley thought he owed his marriage just one more shot. But right after you walked away he immediately started to regret his decision to choose his wife. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and all that was you. He’d made the wrong decision, but was too proud to admit it. Especially to his wife. 

He stood across the Hard Deck with a beer in his hand and his arm slung around her hip, looking at you like a puppy you’d left out in the rain. He missed you, oh so much. And that fact you hardly spoke to him these days made his heart hurt inside his chest. 

“Yeah—and I don’t think I can handle it anymore.” You admitted before taking a sip of your drink. “I’ve asked for a transfer, just to make it easier. I can’t focus, can’t sleep, because he’s just—always around.” 

“Sounds to me like you’re just running away from your problems.” Penny held her tongue as she watched the tall sandy blonde appear next to you at the bar. “That, or you know that you’re still in love with the guy and no matter what you do he’ll still manage to wiggle his way in because you’ll always allow him to.” It took you a few moments to register what the stranger beside you said as you eyed him up and down. 

“Sensitivity—“ You rolled your eyes. “I like that in a stranger.” The alcohol coursed through your body like a mild painkiller. “Are you new in town?” The civvies were an excellent camouflage against the sea of tans that flooded the Hard Deck—and Penny wasn’t about to be the one who told you the stranger you were talking to was the reason for your current situation. 

“Just visiting—“ He made sure to lie, a little white lie never hurt anyone. Or so they said. But the man beside you with the perfect smile and emerald green eyes definitely wanted to see how far he could get this conversation. “I’m confounded by all the patches and it’s only my first day in town.” He sighed softly as he sat beside you. “Budweiser please Barkeep.” Penny nodded without another word. 

“You get used to it, North Island is a Naval Base after all.” It felt like a needed explanation. The stranger beside you nodded softly as he fished his wallet out of his back pocket. 

“So I’ve heard.” A comfortable silence fell between you and the handsome stranger as he waited for his beer. “Kinda wish I’d stayed in bed, if I had known this place would be crawling with Naval Officers I wouldn’t have bothered.” Oh he knew, he knew all right. 

He knew that the Hard Deck would be packed to the rafters with the Dagger Squad and he certainly knew North Island was a Naval Base. Why? Because he was a part of that designated team. You’d just been the one who replaced him while he was tasked to special ops. Now? He was back to cause chaos. 

“Hey Rooster—“ Fanboy grabbed Bradley’s attention away from Bob. “You see who’s at the bar with Siren?” As Bradley turned his attention back to where he’d known you to be sitting for the better half of the evening, he immediately saw red. A jealousy that rivaled nothing he’d ever felt before consumed him fully, even if his wife was tucked in at his side. 

“We just met and already you’re talking about bed.” You chuckled softly as you took another sip of your drink. Penny had since passed Jake his Budweiser and before you knew it, he was laughing softly beside you. “Not very subtle.” 

“Being subtle was never really my strong suit.” The man beside you replied with a look of all knowing. He knew something you didn’t. If you didn’t know any better you would have asked what that may have been. But you chose to take another sip of your gin. Settletting once again into the comfortable silence that surrounded you and the stranger to your right. 

“So, you ever go out with co-workers?” It stunned you for a second, the forwardness of such a question, but then again—you still didn’t know this guy's name and he was making the heat in your cheeks reach new uncharted heights. 

“I um—“ You tucked some of your hair behind your ear and turned to give the golden skinned, white T wearing man beside you your full attention. Crossing your legs as you did so, so that his knees were on either side of yours. “I make it a rule not to.” His answer sent a shiver down your spin. A good shiver. A shiver that made your core flutter. 

“Then I am so glad that I don’t work here.” Maybe it was the gin talking or maybe it was your recent breakup, but this guy was the very definition of a piece of art. He was gorgeous, an Adonis that surely would have come straight out of accent metrology. 

“Are you hitting on me?” You tried to hide the keen grin that threatened to creep across your slightly heated face, but the sudden attention was giving you an ego boost you desperately needed after being rejected in favour of the cheating wife. 

“Would that be so wrong?” Oh this guy was good. Too good. His infectious smile captivated you in every way it could have. His eyes held a story that was dying to be told. His confidence made you want to lean in and taste it, like hard candy it probably tastes just as sweet as his scent smelled. With notes of Vanilla and warm Bourbon lingering from his neck. 

So you stuck your hand out for him to accept ever so politely. His eyes never left your as you smiled and bit your bottom lip bashfully. 

“I’m Y/n—“ “Lieutenant Y/n Siren Y/l/n.”  “And you are?” Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next. Remember that slow motion we were talking about earlier? Well, the seconds it took Bradley Bradshaw's fist to collide against your handsome mystery man’s cheek, it felt like a century as it played out in painfully slow motion before you. 

His head hit the bar with a thud as beer spilled into your lap. 

“Rooster! Jesus—!” You gasped as you stood and pushed against Bradley’s chest to back him up and away from the man you’d just been talking to. “Fuck! what the hell was that!?” 

Bradley didn’t answer right away as you turned to watch the blond stand with blood dripping down and out of his nose. The two stood there in silence, eyeing each other off as Penny fished out the bar's basic first aid kit. 

“That—“ Bradley huffed as he shook his throbbing hand. His jaw had never been so clenched before. He was furious and full of a rage that burned so deep it could have raised his core temperature by a few degrees. 

His wife stood off to the side looking all kinds of guilty. As did the rest of the Daggers. They knew this was about to get messy. They knew if he was back and already had his target set on you then there was going to be an all out war between the two men who stood ready to run at each other like angry bulls. 

And you, well—you were more concerned about the blood gushing from the nose of your stranger than you were about your ex’s possibly broken hand. But Bradley turned back to you, for a mere second to explain. 

And when he did—you forgot what morals were.

“That was Jake.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*

[snowyslytherinowl]

Perfect Prefect - Part 1

PAIRING: George Weasley x Reader or George Weasley x OC

SUMMARY: You’re Miss Moore of Ravenclaw, a sixth-year prefect and one of the house’s best and brightest. You don’t know who to go to the Yule Ball with, but luckily for you, George has secretly had a crush on you for a while and charms you into being his date. But there’s one slight problem that’s holding you back from sharing the news of your budding romance: your best friend and Fred Weasley are far from friends.

This work can be read either as George Weasley x OC or a reader-insert since the main character’s physical characteristics and first name remain ambiguous. I usually only publish the first part of a work when I finish the entire story or have most of it worked out, but I’m tired of having this sit in my WIP folder (and maybe it’ll motivate me to stop playing Supermarket Simulator and start writing LMAO). I’m not entirely sure when the second part will be released since I’m kinda struggling with it; nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!

*GIF isn't mine; credit to @jamilelucato

We all hold our breaths as the door creaks open and Sinclair even dips her head under the water. If it’s a boy opening the door, we’d most likely scream. If it’s Professor McGonagall, it’s guaranteed we’d be reprimanded for allowing Edwards into the Prefects’ Bathroom since she technically isn’t allowed in here. 

Pritchard and Lloyd emerge from the other side of the door and we all let out a breath. Sinclair pops up from underneath the water and she sighs. “We thought you two weren’t joining us today!” 

“Sorry we’re late! Professor Sprout held us back to tell her two favorite Hufflepuffs a little secret,” Lloyd says slyly. Pritchard stands behind her, making a poor attempt to suppress a smile. 

“Wait, what are you talking about?” I ask them. Professor Sprout frequently tells Lloyd and Pritchard information that only the staff are supposed to know and swears them to secrecy. Of course, their seal of secrecy doesn’t extend to us. 

“Whenever the Triwizard Tournament takes place, the school that hosts the event also hosts the Yule Ball! It’s a dance that takes place during Christmas!” Pritchard squeals. 

When the two of them join us in the bath, they divulge everything they know about the Yule Ball. Hogwarts hasn’t hosted a Yule Ball for over a century, so we’re all dying to know what the Great Hall will look like, who will be performing, and which teachers will get on the dance floor. Even Sinclair has to laugh when we imagine Professors Snape and McGonagall dancing together. Our conversation then steers to who we want to go to the ball with.

“When the Yule Ball is publicly announced, I think I’m going to ask Matthew.” Ainsworth’s cheeks blush as she says his name and it becomes my turn to smile. She’s fancied him since the beginning of the year when they partnered up in Transfiguration. She mentions him at least once during our daily debriefings in the Prefects’ Bathroom. 

“Now that is the true embodiment of the Gryffindor spirit. I second that.” Sinclair nods in approval and also grins when she notices Ainsworth blushing. 

Ainsworth smirks and swims over to sit next to Sinclair. Sinclair awkwardly scoots over as Ainsworth nudges her and rests her head on her shoulder. “Are you telling us that you also plan to ask a boy?” she asks with a sing-song voice.

“No. I meant that if you like a boy, you should ask him out. What’s the point of sitting around and waiting for a boy to make the first move when a girl is just as capable of taking the initiative?” Sinclair says with conviction.

“So does that mean you’ll take the initiative to ask Fred yourself?” Ainsworth asks with a poke to Sinclair’s shoulder. She typically gives murderous looks when someone displeases her, but this look to Ainsworth would rip her to shreds and feed her soul to the dementors. She snatches her towel and stomps out of the bath. 

“Don’t joke about that! There is no one low enough for that empty-minded, snarky tosser! All of us deserve someone better than him!” Sinclair wraps her towel around her body and heads to one of the bathroom stalls to change out of her bathing suit, ignoring the laughter that follows her. She has a vendetta against Fred Weasley, and just Fred. He bothers her in every class they have together and pairs up with her just to get on her nerves. Since she became a prefect, Fred has plotted endless pranks against her and always escapes from the scene of the crime before she can report him. Every day, we have to hear her rage about him or her plans to best him. 

Ainsworth turns to the rest of us and blows bubbles into the air. “So, Moore, who do you have in mind?”

Everyone turns to look at me and I shrug in response. “I don’t know.” That’s the truth. I don’t have a boyfriend or a crush. I’ve been too caught up in my prefect duties and my classes to even think about romance. 

“There really is no one you fancy?” Edwards asks, giving me a suspicious look. “I don’t believe that.”

“Look, the selection here isn’t prime.” There’s a long list of abominable boys that I can think of: Zacharias Smith since all he does is complain, Oscar May because he only talks about himself, and at least a dozen Slytherins with pure-blood ideals. “Even a lot of the cute ones act like they’re still first-years.”

“Spot on, Moore,” Sinclair comments as she emerges from the stall. She’s fully changed, but her wet hair walls around her face. She folds her towel and throws her bag around her shoulders. 

“Where are you going?” Ainsworth asks, shocked. “We’ve still got a quarter of an hour left!”

“Professor Snape wants to talk to me about something and I will not be late,” Sinclair says with a sigh. She points at Ainsworth before leaving the room. “Don’t forget that we have prefect duties tonight!”

Edwards and Pritchard spend the rest of our daily debriefing talking about guys they think are attractive. After I change and dry my hair, I head to the library to finish Flitwick’s essay on the limitations of portkeys. Sentence after sentence is written and page after page is flipped and I’m so caught up in my essay that I don’t notice that someone joins me at the end of the table. 

A pop and a slam bring me back to the library. I look over to see one of the Weasley twins pressing something down on the table with the palm of his hand. Whatever he’s holding down is wiggling furiously and desperately attempting to escape. Since nothing explodes or disfigures his face, I return to reading and try not to get distracted. 

Not a minute goes by when the sound of hopping and a scraping chair rips my attention from my work yet again. I almost jump out of my seat when I see a miniature frog jumping to the ceiling and landing on the table. Although it doesn’t move forward significantly each time it jumps and lands, it progressively inches closer to me. The last thing I want is for my work to be destroyed, so I cast a charm that knocks it back down to the table and disables its movement. 

Weasley approaches me and I hold out my hand so he can retrieve his frog. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes with a nervous laugh. 

“It’s fine. Are you trying to sell these?” Ainsworth has told us about Fred and George’s plans for a prank shop. I always see them huddled together in the hallways, probably developing devious new products. 

“Yeah. You see, I had this brilliant idea all worked out, but it hasn’t been going as I planned. Tap the frog with your wand and boom! It hops all around and chaos ensues! But no, they jump too high and get squashed by the ceiling.” 

“Can I take a look at it?” He nods and I turn the tiny frog in my hands. They look so realistic that I almost didn’t notice that they’re painted frogs that croak “ribbit.” “What charms are you using for this?”

“A Jumping Jinx.” When I shake my head, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

I summon a book off a nearby shelf about locomotion charms, from flying and gliding to running and twirling. After turning to the page about the Jumping Jinx, I beckon Weasley over. He sits in the chair next to me and leans towards me so we both can see the opened page. I gulp before reciting an excerpt, “‘The Jumping Jinx is a clever way to curse those you want to imbue with frog-like qualities. Beware of using this jinx on inanimate objects, however, since it can cause the object to hop around erratically and turn laughter into screams.’ Quite dramatic, but there you go.” 

Weasley turns to me and grins. I blush and look back down at the book. “I had no idea. So what do you suggest?” 

I check the index for the sections on inanimate objects and turn to page 179. “The sounds coming from your frog sound fine, so do whatever you’re already doing. These two, that’s what you should use for the jumping.” I point at the 360 Charm and the Height Hex. “Do you have a spare frog you haven’t charmed yet?” 

Weasley digs through his pocket to find one and places it on the table. “Watch what I do. You’ll charm the frog to make sounds later since I’d rather not get us kicked out,” I say. He scooches his seat even closer to me and focuses attentively on my hands. I take a deep breath to calm myself before beginning. 

I tap the frog with my wand twice and utter “progressio height.” “This will only jump to one foot. Every time you tap it with your wand, it will jump one foot higher until it reaches ten feet. Then it’ll reset back to one foot. Just put that in the instructions and any kid can change the height.” Then, I swish my wand in a figure-eight motion. “The 360 Charm will make the frog change directions randomly so it’ll give Filch a hard time getting his hands on one.” 

Both of us laugh and Weasley proclaims, “You’re bloody brilliant! I’d definitely hire you for my shop if we even had a place to set up shop.” 

I blush at his compliment. “You’re one of the Weasley twins, aren’t you?”

“George. The better looking one, that is.” I giggle and internally breathe a sigh of relief. Although Sinclair thinks that George is pesky, she ignores him for the most part. All her hatred is directed at his twin, and I’d rather not deal with the drama of fraternizing with Fred. “Moore, isn’t it? A Ravenclaw with both brains and beauty.”

I blush an even deeper crimson and bite my lower lip as I nod. George stuffs his frogs in his pocket and stands to leave the library. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you around.”

“Bye.” I wave at him and my eyes follow his back as he leaves the library. 

XXX

Over the next few days, two of my friends find dates. We were all in the courtyard when Pritchard was asked by a Durmstrang boy, who bowed to her twice and kissed her hand! We weren’t there to see Ainsworth ask Matthew since she cornered him outside the greenhouse to pop the question. Though whenever I pass by the two of them cuddling up, I’m unable to hide my grin.  

I sat at the same table in the library after dinner for two days in a row, eagerly waiting for George. I felt silly for shooting my head up whenever someone walked nearby, and even more the fool for when he didn’t show up. Now on the third day, when I mistook another ginger boy for George, I internally chide myself for thinking he was being anything more than friendly. 

“Hey, you think you can lend a hand on some constipation magic?”

I look up from my numerical charts to see no one other than George Weasley smiling and holding a jar full of chewy candies. I laugh at his question and reply, “Not too much, honestly.”

“That’s fine. I’m here to talk to you, anyway.” He doesn’t give me much time to think about what he said since he sits directly next to me again and unscrews the lid of the jar. “These are meant to give you a case of constipation. Instead, they’re making you diarrhea your trousers in the middle of the corridors.”

“I’ll make sure not to eat one.” I squeeze a candy between my fingers, which oozes a gooey filling and sticks to my thumb and pointer fingers. “I don’t know, you should make the outer coating hard? I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but maybe if the candy is hard then your poo will be hard?”

“How about that?” We comb through books on potions for bodily fluids and I learn more about those potions than I ever wanted to know. Dozens of pages cover graphic ways to clear boils, and an entire section is devoted to making snot gush out of a nose like a raging waterfall. Gross. Eventually, George finds a page on potions for solid and liquid bodily fluids. 

“You were right!” he exclaims and pushes the book toward me. It’s some law about making potions for food that will either help or hurt your bowel movement.  

I encouragingly smile at him, but still say, “You should’ve looked for this yourself. I can’t believe you convinced me to read about all these gross potions.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at me and slicks back his hair, just like those cheesy characters on Muggle television shows.  “What can I say? I’m irresistible.” 

The library is about to close, so we head out before Madam Pince kicks us out. George offers to walk me to Ravenclaw Tower and along the way, we brainstorm ideas for sweets that are magically compatible with U-No-Poo. Popular sweets sold at Honeydukes also give us an idea of marketable candies, so we agree that chocolate with a hard outer shell will sell the best. 

When we reach the top of the spiral staircase, George asks me, “Aren’t you going to say your password? Or would you rather stick around for some extra quality time with me?”

Smiling shyly, I explain, “You have to answer a riddle to get in.” 

I knock the bronze knocker, which asks, “I never leave your body, but I’m easily lost and given away. What am I?”

I curse the knocker, who likely proposed this riddle since George is standing next to me. I lean in and whisper “heart” so only the knocker can hear it. The door swings open.

“What was the answer?” George asks, looking quite cute with his brows furrowed and a jar held against his chest. 

I push the thought aside and say, “Don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

George smiles. “You bet.”

XXX

Throughout the next week, George and I meet either at the library or the Black Lake. Most of the time, we discuss ideas he and Fred have for the joke shop; other times, we speak about our other hobbies, friends, and funny stories. He tells me the stories that Fred told him about Sinclair and each time, there are always little details that don’t line up with the stories I’ve heard.

December weather is freezing, so a warmth charm helps when I’m sitting under a beech tree near the Black Lake. As I wait for George, I take a piece of dark blue fabric out of my bag and use my wand to sprinkle on twinkling stars and colorful rotating planets. Thin lines connecting the stars form constellations across the fabric, resembling the paintings of the night sky in my grandmum’s house. 

Someone shouts my first name and I look up to see George waving at me from afar. Resting the fabric on my lap, I wave back and pat the ground next to me. He plops down so close to me that our shoulders nearly touch. 

“You made that? It’s gorgeous!” George runs a hand through the fabric and traces his finger over the constellations. 

“Thanks,” I reply, blushing. Even after spending almost every day with him, I still blush around him, especially since he doesn’t seem to believe in personal space. 

“Do you have more with you?” 

I pull out three more sheets of fabric, all different designs. The one on top shows Hogwarts Castle on a sunny day with puffy clouds lazily floating past. George smiles at the fabric showing my red Scottish Fold, Peanut, napping on our favorite couch in the Ravenclaw Common Room. But George’s favorite fabric is one of Rubik’s Cube repeatedly solving and shuffling itself on a plain white background. 

“What is that thing?” George wonders, staring at the little cube in awe. 

I laugh at his amazement and tell him that it’s a Muggle Rubik’s Cube. My family owns at least four. My cousin and I used to compete over which one of us could solve it faster and it was always me, but I’m pretty sure that’s because he let me win. 

“I can imagine the look on my dad’s face if he got his hands on one of those,” George remarks and hands the fabrics back to me. 

George has told me about his father’s love for everything Muggle and I can’t help but smile at how cute that is. It reminds me of George’s fascination with jokes and pranks. “I’ll show him one if I meet him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about these before? The fabrics.”

I shrug and watch a group of first-year Ravenclaws making a snowman right at the edge of the lake. “I don’t know. It’s just something I do in the meantime. The girls do it too. Sinclair makes jewelry, Ainsworth paints, Edwards makes bags, and I sew designs on random pieces of fabric. Sometimes I add designs to Edwards’s bags. And if I have enough fabrics that all match a theme, I make a quilt.”

George huffs a laugh and I raise my eyebrows at him. “You lot are quite peculiar. I don’t get it. Why do you call each other by your last names?”

“Sinclair thought that calling each other by our last names was more ‘business-like’ and ‘appropriate for talented students worthy of future greatness.’” We both chuckle before I continue, “I think that’s only half the reason. Pritchard hates her first name, so she prefers to be called by her last name anyway. Sinclair didn’t want her to feel singled out.”

“She seems to be the ringleader of your bunch.”

“Definitely, but only because she’s so protective of us.” I nod at George’s bag and poke a hand inside the smaller pouch. “Enough about me. What are we working on today? Something to make your skin turn orange?”

“Do I need an excuse to talk to my favorite girl?” He moves impossibly closer to me and our faces are so close that my mind jumps to him kissing me. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if he did. “You’re always helping me. Last night, it occurred to me I never do anything for you.”

“I’m not here because I expect anything in return,” I answer honestly. 

“You should’ve been sorted into Hufflepuff because of how kind you are.” George nudges me on my shoulder and I look down and bite my lower lip. “But I was thinking we could make a deal.”

A deal? Is he proposing that I get a cut for perfecting his products if his dream of opening a joke shop comes true? “Like what?”

“You continue to work on the joke products with me and in return, Fred and I don’t play pranks in front of you or your prefect friends. That way, there’s no need to report us. Seriously, why would a prefect participate in this pranking business?”

“Send me to Azkaban for liking problem-solving.” I playfully smack George’s arm and he rubs his hands in faux pain. “That’s hardly a deal, anyway.”

“Fine, you’ve got a point. How about this? Fred and I don’t play pranks in front of you and your friends, even Sinclair. For added benefit, the two of us go to the Yule Ball together. I’d say it’s a mutually beneficial transaction.” A hopeful sparkle appears in George’s eye. In the corner of my vision, I see George’s hands gripping his knees in nervousness. 

Before I can give him more time to feel anxious, I kiss George’s cheek and reply, “I’d love to go to the ball with you.”

George beams at me and my face mirrors his smile. “Fantastic! Now how about we head back inside? It’s getting chilly out here.” His body heat has been providing some warmth, but a slight breeze has me sticking my hands in the pockets of my coat. 

“Sure.” George stands first and offers a hand to help me up. Instead of letting go after I balance myself, I lean into him and hold his hand as we walk back to the warmth of Hogwarts Castle. 

XXX

Cold air fills the corridors of Hogwarts, forcing me to rub my hands together and cast a warmth charm. I press the tip of my wand onto my stiff fingers, finally regaining feeling in them. 

“Are you all right?” Sinclair asks. She grabs my hand and squeezes it, feeling how my hand is only beginning to warm. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. I just wish we didn’t have rounds tonight. It’s freezing,” I say. Ainsworth, Sinclair, Pritchard, and I prefer to complete our rounds together. Sticking together prevents us from getting bored, all while providing extra protection in case anything dangerous is lurking in these halls. With Harry Potter inside these castle walls, something may pop out and try to eat us. 

“If you say so. We can always stop by the kitchens and sit by the fire.” We turn the corner and hear water drop onto the stone floor. 

I don’t want her to worry about me, so I change the topic. “Are you excited for the Yule Ball?”

“I suppose. It’s something different than being home for Christmas,” she replies. After a moment’s pause, she turns to me. “Is this about Yule Ball dates?”

“Maybe.” Something moves at the end of the corridor, but I relax when I realize it’s only a mouse.

“Wait, don’t tell me you already have a date?” she asks and smirks at me. 

“No, not yet,” I lie. “I do have someone in mind, though, and I want your opinion.” I wouldn’t ditch George even if Sinclair attempts to dissuade me from going with him. On the other hand, I want to at least gauge her true opinion of him and avoid a future fight. 

“Listen, I know that you’ll ask me if I approve of him. However, I don’t want you to feel tense over or think that I’ll get upset by your choice of men. I won’t stop you from going with him regardless of whether I like him or not. That’s only as long you aren’t going with Fred Weasley, of course.”

“Ok, so what if I told you I’m interested in someone like him?” 

Sinclair furrows her brow and chews on the inside of her mouth. “What do you mean? Like McLaggen, Smith, or Malfoy? Aren’t the latter two too young for you?” 

Why does she associate McLaggen, Smith, and Malfoy with Fred? “Um, no.”

“Then who do you mean?” Sinclair asks, her features mirroring an even deeper sense of confusion. 

“Honestly, it’s-” 

I’m cut off by the Head Boy, who waves at the two of us. His voice booms from the foot of the stairs as he calls, “Hey, Sinclair! Come down here! Crehan threw up his dinner.” 

“Coming!” Sinclair shouts back. She turns to me and says, “Let’s discuss boy business tomorrow, okay?” Before I can reply, she runs down the stairs and starts walking with the Head Boy.

XXX

“I hate working in groups of four,” Sinclair sighs as the Charms class divides itself into quartets. Our friends at the next table naturally pair together, leaving the two of us with the awkward task of finding two other partners. 

I clutch the textbook to my chest as Sinclair and I walk around the classroom, asking people to work with us. Unfortunately for us, everyone already has partners in mind. Sinclair stands on her tippy-toes, attempting to look through the hubbub of the moving classroom. Her efforts aren’t necessary, though, because Fred and George stand taller than anyone else in the class and they conveniently look partnerless as well. George waves me over when we lock eyes, so I turn to Sinclair to say, “Come on, I found us partners.”

“Are you kidding me?” she groans when she sees who I’m dragging her to. “Is there no one else to work with?”

“Not unless you want to work with your slimy housemates. Warrington and Pucey are also partnerless.”

Sinclair completely ignores Fred when we reach the twins’ corner of the room and looks only at George. “Good morning, Weasley. How are you? I’m glad we could find one competent partner.” 

“And who am I?” Fred scoffs at her. He rolls his eyes and sits at the nearby table to avoid standing next to her for too long.

Sinclair slides into the seat across from him before setting a scrutinizing gaze at him and replying, “Gum on the bottom of my shoes.” She will only make eye contact with him if he’s sitting down since she refuses to “look up to him.” 

“They’re insufferable,” George leans down to whisper into my ear. I smack him on the shoulder as I sit next to Sinclair. 

“Come on, try your hardest to keep up with me,” Fred teases her and opens up his textbook. Sinclair glares at him and mutters “as if” under her breath.

George glances at his brother and Sinclair, who are now debating who will complete the assignment the fastest. George leans across the table to tell me, “I’ve been waiting to work with you for the longest time.”

“Really? How long?” 

He scrunches his face as he pauses to think for a moment. “I’d say at least two months.”

I blush and look at the board to the side of him. Rowena, if I keep this up, I’ll be known as Blush. The textbook page for the Anti-Alohamora Charm is written on the board, so I flip to it with the flick of my wand. “Then why didn’t you start talking to me two months ago? You act like you never get a bout of shyness.”

“Around pretty girls like you I do,” he replies and winks. He cranes his head to look at the board behind him and returns with another one of his smiles. “I bet you already know this one.”

“Yup. Now let’s get started as these two have another row. I’m sure the two of us can manage it on our own.” I stand up to grab a set of four locks for each group member, but Sinclair and Fred are too busy arguing to notice that I’ve placed locks in the center of the table. 

George grabs the blue lock and turns to me expectantly. “Show me how it’s done, beautiful.” He doesn’t pay a lick of attention to what I’m doing to my lock; instead, he’s staring at me with a goofy grin. My cheeks burn as I remember that his brother and my best friend are sitting right next to us.  

I cast the final spell to ensure that the lock doesn’t open with physical force. I then use my hand to turn George’s head to gaze at the table. “Step one: pay attention to the lock,” I joke, and an adorable pink hue colors his cheeks. 

“Step two: place the hand that isn’t your wand hand over the lock. That’ll make sure that the lock recognizes your touch when you attempt to open it.” George ignores my directions again, so I put my hand over his and lead us both to the blue lock. “Now you’re just being cheeky.”

He leans across the table and whispers in my ear, “I do prefer learning spells with a hands-on approach.” His breath tickles my ear, so I pull back with a shiver and a laugh. 

“That’s convenient considering today’s assignment. As you complete this spell, you have to focus and will for it to work.” I stand behind him and press my chest to his back. My breath hitches as I take his wand hand and trace the movements he’s supposed to make with my hand. “Now, swish your wand in a figure-eight motion twice, then swish it clockwise. Each time, say ‘contra alohomora.’”

I let go of George so he can attempt the spell on his own. His hand movements are precise and finally, the firm click of the lock is heard. “Alohomora,” I say while pointing at the blue lock with my wand, but it doesn’t open. “You did fantastic!”

“What can I say? Clearly, I’m quite talented.” He flashes me a cheeky grin.

“You really are, George.” I cup his cheek with my hand and return his smile. Rowena, I’m so excited to be his date for the Yule Ball. 

“Before you distract me again, there is one more thing I should teach you. Only you can open the lock by touching it or casting ‘alohomora,’ but you can allow other people to open it too. You just have to place their hand on the lock and say ‘amicos alohomora.’”

George intertwines his fingers with mine and moves my hand to the blue lock. “Let’s give it a shot with you.”

I pry my fingers from his. “Actually, it has to be someone else since I’m the one testing your spells.”

“Alrighty then.” George turns to Fred and Sinclair, who have been going at it this entire time. Fred is mocking her for something that happened in Defence Against the Dark Arts, which riles her up since her marks are her greatest pride. Fred doesn’t seem to care or notice that George presses his hand to the blue lock and grants him permission to open the lock. 

Professor Flitwick stops by our table and inspects George’s blue lock and my purple lock. “Wonderful job you two! Ten points each to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.” His eyes then wander over to Fred and Sinclair and he points at their locks. “Have you two been participating in the work your partners have completed? Ah, Miss Sinclair, excellent work on the Anti-Alohamora Charm. Next time, Mister Weasley, please assist your partners and pay more attention to the task at hand.”

Satisfaction is written all over Sinclair’s face as Professor Flitwick stops at the next table. “You should seriously consider listening to Professor Flitwick’s advice.”

“Please! You were distracting me!” Fred retorts. “How did you manage to pull off the spell in the middle of our row?” 

“Back at it again, I see,” I remark to George. 

George rolls his eyes. “It’ll be like this until we graduate. I just hope they don’t have a row during the ball.”

“And if they do, I won’t get involved. Rowena knows how passionate Sinclair can get.” Last year, Fred set up an intricate trap that dumped brown goo under the passerby, which just so happened to activate only if Sinclair walked under it. I had to hold her by her robes to prevent her from sprinting away and jinxing the life out of Fred.

“Can’t blame her half the time with the pranks my brother gets up to. I’d also try to chop off his head if I was her.” George laughs and shakes his head. He crouches down and begins to doodle something in his textbook. When I bend forward to see what he’s drawing, he pulls his textbook closer to him and wags his finger. “No peeking, now. Don’t spoil the surprise for yourself.”

“I bet you’re either drawing me or Peanut,” I joke.

George throws his head back and groans. “How do you manage to always be one step ahead of me?” 

“Clearly, I’m quite talented,” I tease, echoing the same thing he said minutes before. 

He scribbles his quill, scrunches his brow, and then presents the sketch of Peanut to me. I laugh as I trace a hand over Peanut’s exaggerated long whiskers and chunky red body. “She looks goofy and fat, but adorable as ever.”

“No need to call her hefty, now. Let the cat enjoy her treats in peace,” George teases. Every time Peanut sees George, she jumps onto his lap and rubs herself all over him. She likes him so much that she gives him a dirty cat glare if he even stands up to go to the lavatory. 

I’m laughing at his joke when I realize that Sinclair is silent and gawking at George and me. Once she notices me looking, she tilts her head in George’s direction. No words need to be spoken for me to understand what she’s trying to ask. 

Fred sighs and slaps his green lock. He looks up from his textbook and then at Sinclair. But when he notices the expression on her face, he smirks and looks over at George and me. “What secret have I been left out of? Care to tell me something, Georgie?”

“Freddie, may I proudly present my Yule Ball date? This is Miss Moore of Ravenclaw,” George proclaims and waves his hands with great pomp and circumstance. 

I bury my face in my hands, embarrassed by George’s comments. Fred extends a hand for me to shake as though we haven’t known each other for years. Regardless, I take his hand and shake it. Fred smiles at me and then slaps George’s arm. “I knew you’d find a pretty date, Georgie.”

Sinclair watches the exchange in silence, her face neutral other than raised eyebrows. But even if she tries to keep a poker face, I know her head is probably spinning at the new revelation. 

Rowena, I do not look forward to whatever she has to say once class ends.

[harkonnin]

* The Willow's Purpose *

“The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows—a wall against the wind. This is the willow's purpose.”

As sister to Paul Atreides, and trained in secrecy to be a healer Bene Gesserit, you witnessed the rise of the Lisan Al Gaib. As you experience visions and dreams of a certain man, realising that he will be the one fighting your brother to the death changes your perspective on everything. An uncontrollable force takes over you as you revive him, questions lingering in your mind.

***

Fic on AO3

***

Chapter 9 - Bliss

The day arrives when Paul requests Feyd to return to Giedi Prime. The tension in the air is palpable, the impending separation weighing heavily on both of you. That evening, as the desert sun sets in a blaze of red and gold, you and Feyd find solace in each other’s presence, seeking to make the most of your remaining time together.

The night is a blur of emotions and desire, the intensity of your bond driving you together in a way that feels both inevitable and deeply profound. The air is thick with the scent of spice and the soft sounds of the desert, but all you can focus on is Feyd, and the way he looks at you with a mix of longing and determination.

As your clothes fall away, the connection between you deepens, becoming something almost sacred. The world outside fades, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in each other’s embrace. The touch of his hands on your skin sends shivers down your spine, and you can feel the bond you share pulsing with a life of its own.

It feels like a dream, your minds foggy and filled with a sense of ecstasy that blurs the line between reality and fantasy. Feyd's breath is hot against your ear, his whispered words lost in the haze of your passion.

“I need you,” is all you can make out. And it’s all you need.

Your bodies move together in a rhythm as old as time, each touch, each kiss, an affirmation of your connection. In the midst of this wave of emotions, Feyd’s voice breaks through the fog, his words filled with a raw, unfiltered honesty.

"I want you to be my Baroness," he says, his voice hoarse with desire and conviction.

The declaration hangs in the air, mingling with the sounds of your shared breaths and the pounding of your hearts. For a moment, everything seems to crystallize, the significance of his words cutting through the haze. It’s a promise, a vision of a future where your paths remain intertwined, where the bond you share transcends the barriers of duty and distance.

"Feyd," you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. "Say yes," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. "Say you’ll be mine, forever."

The intensity of his plea, the vulnerability in his eyes, leaves you breathless. In that moment, you understand the depth of his feelings, the lengths he would go to keep you by his side.

"Yes," you breathe, the word a promise, a binding of your fates. "I’ll be your Baroness."

With that, the dreamlike quality of the night intensifies, your connection deepening in a way that feels almost transcendent. The prophecy, the paths that were laid out before you, all seem to converge in this moment, bringing a sense of destiny fulfilled.

As the night stretches on, you and Feyd lose yourselves in each other, the bond between you growing stronger with every touch, every whispered word.

When the dawn finally breaks, casting a soft glow over the sands of Arrakis, you lie entwined in each other’s arms, the weight of your promise settling over you like a protective shield. Feyd’s departure looms, but the bond you share, the commitment you’ve made, gives you both the strength to face the challenges ahead.

Feyd looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and determination.

"I’ll come back for you," he vows, his voice steady and sure. "No matter what it takes." "And I’ll be waiting," you reply, your heart swelling with the certainty of your shared destiny.

As Feyd prepares to leave for Giedi Prime, you watch him with a sense of pride and sorrow, knowing that the path ahead will be difficult.

[demonangelgirl134]

Clue. Care bears villains edition

Part 2: Blackmail and murder

✨️part 1✨️

Everyone stared at Dark Heart. Lightning struck at almost perfect timing when it was revealed by Nicolas that their host they all were suspicious of... was blackmailing them.

Of course, none of them took it well. Especially Bluster, who was the first to get up and storm over to him, angrily name-calling and threatening to harm him, but Dark Heart jumped out out of his seat and stomped on Bluster's foot, making him grab his foot in agonizing pain, and let his guard down, allowing Dark Heart to strike him in the face with his fist, and cause him to fall to the floor. As Bluster laid curled up in pain on the floor, his left eye already bruising and nose beginning to bleed, Dark Heart didn't stop, he began repeatedly kicking Bluster in the ribs, causing Beastly, Shreeky, and Noheart to have to pull Dark Heart away and Coldheart & King Beastly to run over to Bluster to make sure he was okay. Nicolas, on the other hand, heard something else going on and slipped past the chaos out into the hall.

Dark Heart wouldn't stop trying to pull away and continue beating up Bluster, so Shreeky took the initiative and harshly kneed Dark Heart in the groin. Dark Heart fell to the ground, and Beastly, Shreeky, and Noheart began to join King Beastly and Coldheart in assisting Bluster, but then Nicolas came back through the door in panic

"THE CARE BEARS ARE COMING!!!" He yelled. Causing everyone to stop what they were doing and start to panic as well. Everyone started berading each other with panicked words until Nicolas spoke up and stopped the chaos

"EVERYBODY LISTEN!!" He yelled. Everyone stopped panicking and looked at him. "It's Dark Heart they're coming for! And blackmail depends on secrecy! You've all admitted to how he's is able to blackmail you, now all you guys have to do is tell the care bears that you were victims of it by Dark Heart and you'll be convicted and all your troubles will be over!"

Dark Heart began to get up from the floor as Nicolas said that. "It's not as simple as that." He smugly commented, using the chair he was initially sitting in while listening to Nicolas talk about the villain's crimes before all the chaos as a support to get up. "You'll never tell the care bears that these felons were innocent for once."

"Then I will!" Nicolas snapped. "I have evidence in my possession, and this conversation is being tape recorded!"

We pan to the billiard room with Charlotte, who was sitting on the pool table drinking conyac and watching and listening to a running tape recorder recording the voices of Coldheart stating that a tape recording isn't any good visual evidence, resulting in them all beginning to argue and talk over each other through it.

We then pan back to the study, where everyone began to argue, but once again, Nicolas broke everything up. "Everyone, calm down!" He said. "It's going to take the care bears awhile to get here since this place is buried in tall, thick trees, but estimately, they'll be here in an hour and a half! Tell them the truth, and Dark Heart will face punishment."

Dark Heart's malicious expression grew, and he then calmly walked toward the door and pushed past the group through the door.

"Where you going now??" Nicolas sternly asked Dark Heart.

Dark Heart turned and smugly answered. "I think I know how to help them make up their minds. I just need to get my bag from the hall."

He continued out the door and came back a few seconds later with an alligator skin brief case in his hands and set it down on the coffee table in the middle of the room. "Can anyone guess what's in here?"He asked with a smug look on his face.

Everyone stared, some not even bothering to guess because they already knew that it was most likely the evidence against them. But they were wrong. Dark Heart opened the brief case and pulled out six identical parcels all bound with red ribbons, and handed one to each villain and gestured for them to sit down and open them. They all agreed and sat down. All opening their parcels one at a time.

The first to open their parcel was Shreeky. She carefully undid the ribbon and opened it. Inside.. was a brass candlestick. She picked it up, observing it. "A candlestick?? What's this for?" She asked in confusion.

The next to open their parcel was Noheart. Like Shreeky, he carefully undid the ribbon and opened his parcel. Except inside his.. was a rope tied into the form of a noose.

Next was Beastly. He was especially careful. He opened his parcel and inside his.. was a lead pipe. He picked it up and stared at it, then at Dark Heart, who was casually sipping conyac in the corner, then back at the pipe

Next was Bluster. He slipped the ribbon off and opened the box. His had a heavy clamp wrench inside. He picked it up, staring at it blankly in confusion, then looked at Coldheart sitting next to him, who opened his next.

Coldheart opened his parcel. Inside was an especially deadly item. Being... a loaded revolver. He stared at it blankly, then looked back at Bluster

And finally, King Beastly opened his parcel. And inside, was a steel dagger

Once everyone opened their parcels, Dark Heart began to wander around the room, as everyone looked up from eyeing the weapons they were given. "In your hands, you each hold a lethal weapon." He announced. "You're all stuck in here until the care bears arrive. But if you turn me over to them, it's possible you'd all face the painful humiliation of their care bear stare. Considering they don't trust any of you. And my mansion has an ancient spell to where any outside magic that's not my own is disabled in the vicinity of its walls. Which means no teleportation, no shape-shifting, no ice magic, not even shrieks, no nothing."

Everyone froze stunned when they heard they couldn't use their powers.

"That's right. As long as you're all locked in here, you're all powerless and none of you can leave." Dark Heart continued. "BUT! If one of you kills Nicolas now, no one but the seven of us will ever know."

Nicolas's face fell at these words. He stood there, frozen.

Dark Heart maliciously smiled and chuckled at his butler's fear, and continued. "He has the key to the front door, which he said will only be opened over his dead body.... I suggest we take him up on that offer."

Nicolas's face fell in fear even more, beginning to sweat bullets as Dark Heart said those words and paused dramatically before walking over to the door and shutting it.

"... And the only way to leave while you still can and not have to face those wreched bears is if one of you were to kill Nicolas...

...Now. "

With that, Dark Heart switched off the lights, engulfing the room in silent pitch blackness. Then.....

BANG!!

A gunshot shook the whole room. Screams of terror began to fill the air, and suddenly, everything was bright again. King Beastly had gotten up and turned the lights back on. Ironically, with the dagger still in his hands. But when he did... a terrifying sight met the unexpecting eyes of the villains.

On the ground.. was a man laying lifeless on the floor. But it wasn't Nicolas.. instead, it was no other than the man who blackmailed them all and suggested murder in the first place... Dark Heart.

Part 3 coming soon

[syllvane]

constellations- tamar kir-bataar x reader

You notice the gravity they carry with them the first time they enter the Spinning Wheel, although notice is a bit of a lackluster term, in your opinion.

They are impossible to ignore, like a full moon in the middle of the night, pulling the tides up to meet them.

Tamar - you don’t know her name yet, but you’ll listen closely whenever they’re near for the chance to learn it - is the one that strikes you the most, the one that your eyes always flit to when you’re supposed to be working, the one that will catch your eye and give you a small smile.

It’s the day after they arrive that Nikolai visits your workstation, a smile on his face.

“I saw you looking at Tamar yesterday.” He said and your head snapped towards him. “One of my crew members on the Volkvolny.”

“Right, Tamar.” You replied, testing her name out on your lips. “It’s not every day you bring new people-”

“Oh come on, how long have we been friends? You’ve never been a good liar.”

“I don’t even know her, Nikolai. I didn’t even know her name before you said it just now.”

“Well, maybe you could know her. She was asking about you as well.”

“First-”

“Oh boy.” He mumbled, leaning against a shelf with an amused expression on his face. “I’m listening.”

“- I did not ask about her.”

He shrugged.

“Point taken.”

“Second,” You started before the conviction in your voice faded, replaced with something softer. “She asked about me?”

His lips curled into a smile and you immediately regretted asking.

“She did.”

“What did she ask?”

“I am sworn to secrecy-”

“So help me Saints, I will fuck up your boat if you don’t tell me.”

Nikolai paused, his head tilted to the side as he looked at you, as if he was calculating how serious you were.

“She asked your name, for one, and also the kind of work you do here.” He said, narrowing his eyes slightly. “That’s all I will say.”

“That’s very unhelpful, Nik.”

“Yes, well it’s the most I can say without betraying either of your trust.”

He stood up straight, looking around your workstation.

“I should let you get back to work.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Nik. You’re gone enough as it is.” You said and he looked at you, a genuine smile appearing on his face, like spring after a long winter.

“I’m sorry that I’m not here often.”

“You’re doing important work, I understand.”

“Yes, well… you’re always welcome on the Volkvolny as well.”

You returned the smile, giving him a nod.

—

“So, Nikolai said that you’re a Durast. A visionary, was his exact words I believe.” Tamar said and you nearly fused the engine that you had been working on with the table out of surprise.

You looked at her sheepishly, hoping that she hadn’t noticed your panic.

“He gives me too much credit.” You said, trying to turn your attention back towards the engine, though everything about her demanded that you focused on her. 

“I’ve always found that he’s a pretty good judge of character.” She said lightly. “Don’t tell him I said that though. He has a big enough ego as is.”

You looked up at her to see her already smiling at you, her eyes sparkling.

“I won’t, but his ego is nothing compared to his brothers and his parents’.” You smiled, looking back at your project in thought before looking back up at her. “He’s a good man in spite of them.”

“That, he is.” Tamar nodded, her attention drawn to something over your shoulder. She narrowed her eyes before looking back to you, her features softening. “So, change of topic, but what do you do for fun here?”

“Well, as you can possibly imagine, there isn’t the widest array of options in a remote workshop. You and,” You turned, confirming your suspicion that the man she had been walking with when you first saw her was watching the conversation intently, “…him are probably better off passing time however you pass time on the ship.”

Tamar’s cheeks reddened and she laughed slightly.

“That’s my brother, Tolya. He is very… I’m sorry about him.” She said, running her hand through her hair.

“You don’t have to apologize, I… before this was Nikolai’s workshop, it was an observatory. The glass dome portion is actually really beautiful on a clear night. It’s not fun, but-”

“I’ll meet you there tonight?” She asked and you felt heat rise to your face.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you there tonight.”

—

When you arrive at the glass dome, there are several moments of panic you go through. 

What if she doesn’t know how to get to the glass dome? You never specified a time, what if she got here earlier and thought you stood her up? What if she stands you up? What if-

The metal ladder leading up to the dome creaked and any panic dissolved into a different kind of panic, one that fluttered inside of your chest like a bird.

Tamar emerged from the trapdoor and she smiled brightly as she saw you.

You helped her out and she looked up, her breath caught in her chest as she looked at the copper menagerie on the ceiling of the dome.

“You were right, this place is beautiful. How did you find this place?” She asked, her attention falling back onto you.

“Lots of time exploring, that’s what I do for fun. Occasionally I find places like this.” You smiled, looking around at the metal and glass work, the love and care that must have gone into crafting each specific constellation. “Do you want to see something cool?”

“Always.” She responded and you glanced at her, smiling before you looked back up towards the copper and the star-filled night sky.

You raised your hands and, with all the care in the world, began to rotate the copper sheet so that constellations and animals carved in copper would match the night sky.

You heard her gasp but maintained concentration until you were sure that everything was in the correct place.

You looked at her, power coursing in your veins, and she grinned.

“My own personal astronomer.”

“At your service.” You joked and she grabbed your hand, her skin warm against yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

The bird inside your chest fluttered and you found yourself leaning closer towards her.

“Please.”

[justiceforc3po]

SW:TOR OC: Vada Z'Elion

Colonel Vada Z'Elion - Republic Trooper (Mercenary) - Class Story Compliant, Outlander

Species: Human (Cyborg)

Age: 27 at the end of class story.

Allegiances: Galactic Republic, Republic Military (Havoc Squad)

Planet: Coruscant Stronghold

Alignment: Light-Side

Romance: Lana Beniko, Elara Dorne, Ava Jaxo, others (polyamorous lesbian)

Connections: Aric Jorgan (XO, strong platonic), Jean Larranis (Adoptive Father), Neqian Zur (Acquaintance), Sazari Ashago (Past Friendship), Theron Shan (Strong Platonic), Senya Tirall (Strong Platonic), Arcann Tirall (Strong Platonic)

Biography

Born in 10 BTC, Vada Z'Elion has always been closely intertwined with Republic Military. As the daughter of a soldier serving on a base far removed from the front lines of the war, she spent a large part of her childhood there, with her father being a local civillian working with the base. She grew up in relative peace, and admired her mother, wanting to follow her footsteps one day. This did not last- the base was eventually attacked in an Imperial effort to disrupt Republic supply lines. Though it was defended successfully, it was nearly destroyed - and left Vada orphaned overnight in the wake of the battle. Seven years old at the time, she was put into the care of Jean Larranis, a friend of her mother's and teacher at the school the base had established. The both of them grew close very fast, being the only family either of them had left. The death of her parents did nothing to stifle Vada's ambitions to become a soldier. Jean, being an ex-pilot with a very jaded view on the military, tried his very best to keep her away from this path, though he realised that in the end, it was not his decision to make. This led to Vada joining a school preparing aspiring future soldiers for the military academy when she turned 13. She thrived there, adapting to the environment quickly. It was on a trip with this school that Vada's career almost came to an abrupt halt - a covert imperial sabotage operation meant to destroy the base the school was visiting left her caught in an explosion. She survived narrowly, suffering extensive hearing loss and blinding her left eye as well as earning her a distinctive burn scar across her left side and face. Shortly after making her inital recovery though, she was approached by recruiters for the military academy - they had taken notice of her case and offered her restorative cybernetics - in case she still wanted to sign up. Vada took the offer immediately - driving a wedge between her and Jean, who was furious with the proposal and its conditions, unwilling to see further harm be done to his loved ones in the name of the Republic war effort. And so, she departed without his approval, the two having barely spoken since. She became a model soldier, eager to prove herself and serve, overtaking her peers fast. Not unpopular but quiet and distanced, she didn't build many close relationships in her time there. After graduating, she served for two years on several different minor operations, eventually being recruited to Havoc Squad at the age of 24. Quickly confronted with the messiness of real spec ops work, Vada now has to adapt to her new leadership role and reevaluate her own relationship to the military - and its values.

Personality

Traits: Calm, Considerate, Practical, Reserved, Protective

Values: Honesty, Kindness, Mutual Respect, Following the Law, Professionalism

Opposed to: Unneccessary/Excessive Violence, Discrimination, Abuse of Power, Secrecy, Unquestioning Loyalty

Miscellaneous

She is very calm and collected usually, having been taught to not raise her voice at others and control her anger well. Tanno Vik, however, has tested these boundaries beyond the breaking point before. Once.

Starting off her time in Havoc Squad following all orders without question, she grew stronger in her conviction to protect lives above all else over time, even going directly against Garza's orders on Taris, destroying the bioweapons she was supposed to secure for Republic Military.

With the start of the war, but especially after the events on A-77, Vada started learning about various philosophies in her off-time, growing particularly interested in Jedi teachings. She values the code as a good guideline for anyone with large amounts of power or responsibility, including herself.

She heavily dislikes talking about her feelings, often not feeling justified in her struggles and not wanting to burden others with her own issues, especially those working under her command - this has led to some strain in her relationship to her squad members.

On a more lighthearted note, she is a bit of a flirt and has had her fair share of flings. Of course, she would never flirt while on duty, though Seargent Jaxo has very nearly made her break that rule before.

She has absolutely horrrible taste in food, opting to eat plain rations, protein shakes and protein bars only unless someone (C2-N2) stops her.

She was a big fan of Jace Malcolm as a teen - especially after gaining her own scars. Though she is a bit embarassed about her idolisation of him now, she still owns a poster of him she has hidden away in a box of memorabilia.

[coffee-lo-vers]

Tentacular revelations

Kaede Kayano and Yukiko Kanzaki had been dating for several years. Their relationship was a perfect blend of love, trust and mutual support. Despite having shared so many experiences together, Kaede kept a dark and unknown secret from her girlfriend. A secret that he kept jealously.

On Kaede's twenty-third birthday, they decided to celebrate with an intimate dinner at their apartment. The candles flickered softly and the aroma of gourmet food filled the air. But in the quiet of the evening, Kaede felt a storm of emotions within herself, especially when faced with the idea of revealing her deepest secret.

After enjoying a delicious dinner, Kaede took a deep breath and looked into Yukiko's eyes, searching for courage and confidence. "There is something I must confess to you, Yukiko," Kaede began, a serious tone in her voice.

Yukiko looked at her lover with curiosity and concern. "What's wrong, Kaede?" he asked gently.

Kaede bit her lower lip before continuing. "I have something that I have never told you, something that I have hidden from you all this time," he admitted with a certain melancholy in his eyes. "Since the incident with the real Kaede Kayano, I have kept this secret."

Yukiko frowned, confused by Kaede's words. "What are you talking about, Kaede? We've always been honest with each other," he responded with concern.

Kaede clenched her fists, trying to muster enough courage to reveal her truth. "When Koro-sensei saved me when his apprentice stabbed me during goodbye, there was something that happened to my body. His apprentice's tentacles fused with me," he confessed, letting out a sigh of relief at finally releasing his secret.

Yukiko opened her eyes wide, surprised by Kaede's confession. "Tentacles? What do you mean?"

Kaede extended her hand and before Yukiko's astonished eyes, small tentacles emerged from her palm. Silently, Kaede manipulated the tentacles skillfully, showing the control she had acquired over the years.

Yukiko stepped back instinctively, surprised by the discovery. However, he quickly noticed the distress in Kaede's eyes and reached out to take her hands. "Kaede, no matter what has happened, I will always be by your side. You are the one I love, no matter what has happened to you," he declared with conviction and tenderness.

Kaede's eyes filled with tears at Yukiko's sweet understanding. They merged into a hug, feeling the unconditional love and support of their beloved.

From that moment on, Kaede and Yukiko embarked on a journey together. They researched how to control and use Kaede's tentacles in an ethical and responsible manner, with the goal of helping others and protecting those in need.

In love, pain, and secrecy, Kaede found the strength to face her past and accept herself completely. Together, they built a future where unconditional love and understanding surpassed any fear or secrets. And so, their love story continues, with new challenges and adventures waiting on the horizon.

[dankusner]

Tim Mapes, former aide to Speaker Michael Madigan, sentenced to 2 1/2 years for lying to federal grand jury

During Tim Mapes’ perjury trial last year, an FBI agent memorably testified Mapes’ boss, longtime House Speaker Michael Madigan, ran his political operation with a level of secrecy and a requirement of loyalty akin to an organized crime family.

In sentencing Mapes to 2 1/2 years in prison Monday, a federal judge used another well-worn mafia term to describe the possible motivation behind Mapes’ actions that led to his conviction for lying to a federal grand jury investigating alleged corruption in the former speaker’s organization.

Omerta.

“It’s the idea that you don’t rat on your friends,” U.S. District Judge John Kness said to Mapes shortly before imposing the sentence.

“You knew what you were doing when you went into the grand jury and you lied. I don’t know why you did this. Perhaps this was out of some sense of loyalty, but if that’s the case, your loyalty was greatly misguided.”

The sentence following a three-hour hearing punctuated a stunning downfall for Mapes, who served for decades as Madigan’s abrasive and sharp-tongued chief of staff, as well as executive director of the Madigan-run Democratic Party of Illinois and clerk of the House, before being abruptly forced to resign in 2018 amid a sexual harassment scandal.

It’s also the latest in a string of legal developments stemming from the federal investigation into Madigan, the longest serving state legislative leader in the country whose own federal racketeering trial is currently set for October.

Before the sentence was handed down, Mapes, sporting a shaved head and dressed in a blue suit and burgundy tie, read a statement to the court saying he was proud of his accomplishments yet “humbled and remorseful” about his actions.

“For 30 years, I tried my best to serve the people of the state of Illinois,” Mapes said, sipping from a bottle of water before reading notes from a sheet of paper.

“I never intended to be anything but a public servant … I tried in ways big and small to live my life as a good man.”

Mapes talked about his successes, particularly making the legislative trains run on time and a decade-long effort to improve access for the handicapped at the Capitol — part of a pricey rehabilitation once compared to the renovation of the Palace of Versailles.

“Our efforts tried to make life better for the citizens of Illinois,” he said.

Mapes also said he knows many people in Illinois “have lost faith in their government and that breaks my heart.”

“It is contrary to everything I have tried to do in my career, and it brings me sorrow,” he said.

Most of his statement was read in a matter-of-fact tone. Mapes’ voice broke a little, however, when he talked about his legal troubles being hard on his aging father, who is still working their farm in western Illinois.

In handing down the sentence, Kness said he struggled at a fundamental level to understand how Mapes found himself in this position.

“This is a very sad case to me because I don’t understand why you did what you did,” Kness said. “You were immunized in the grand jury and all you had to do was go in there and tell the truth.”

In rejecting a request by the defense for a sentence of probation, the judge said he could not ignore the need to send a message about public corruption and to public officials in Springfield.

Kness noted that two relatively recent governors — Republican Gov. George Ryan and Democratic Gov. Rod Blagojevich — went to prison and Mapes’ boss is currently under federal indictment.

“The people of the state cry out for accountability,” the judge said.

Mapes listened to the sentence standing at a lectern with his back to the audience.

He did not appear to have any reaction when the sentence was handed down.

The audience in the courtroom included three former House lawmakers: Joe Lyons, who often served as acting speaker and worked closely with Mapes during legislative debates; George Scully, a former House committee chairman who oversaw issues tied to the electricity industry and who later served as a Cook County judge; and Coy Pugh, a longtime lobbyist and former state representative.

Outside of the courtroom, Scully acknowledged the jury decided Mapes had committed the acts he was accused of, but said that “he is still my friend.”

As part of the sentencing, Mapes was ordered to report to prison by June 11.

Following the hearing, Mapes huddled with his attorneys and relatives for more than half an hour before leaving the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse.

Asked if he could comment, Mapes gave a thumbs-down.

His lead attorney, Andrew Porter, also had no comment.

Mapes, 69, was convicted in an August trial of perjury and attempted obstruction of justice charges alleging he lied to a grand jury in 2021 in a failed attempt to protect Madigan from a widening political corruption investigation.

When he went in for his interview, Mapes had been immunized by the U.S. attorney’s office, meaning he could not be prosecuted for what he said as long as it was the truth.

In its decision, the jury found Mapes had lied on every occasion alleged by prosecutors in the indictment, which consisted mostly of a series of “I don’t recall” answers to questions about “assignments” Madigan handed down to his longtime confidant, Michael McClain.

In May 2023, McClain was found guilty along with three others in a bribery conspiracy to funnel payments from Commonwealth Edison to Madigan associates in hopes of gaining the speaker’s influence over the utility’s legislative agenda in Springfield.

Madigan lost the speakership and resigned his House seat in 2021, a year before being indicted along with McClain in a separate racketeering case alleging Madigan ran a criminal enterprise that used his power of elected office to shake down ComEd and AT&T and a real estate developer in Chinatown.

The trial for Madigan and McClain was supposed to start in April but was delayed six months after the U.S. Supreme Court decided to review an Indiana case involving the same federal bribery statute.

In Mapes’ case, meanwhile, prosecutors had asked he be sentenced for up to about five years in prison, arguing in a recent court filing that Mapes’ lies “were calculated to thwart the government’s sprawling investigation of a series of unlawful schemes calculated to corrupt the government of this state at the highest levels.”

Assistant U.S. Attorneys Diane MacArthur and Julia Schwartz wrote in their filing that when a seasoned public servant like Mapes “makes the calculated and deliberate decision to lie in the grand jury, the criminal justice system, and our entire democracy, is threatened.”

In her argument Monday, Schwartz said Mapes “chose to dance around the edges” in his grand jury testimony despite being granted immunity by prosecutors.

In doing so, she said, Mapes placed his loyalty to Madigan above all else.

“Had Mr. Mapes told the truth, he would have been a great witness for the government,” Schwartz said. “He was on the inside. … He knew the way Speaker Madigan took care of people with jobs and favors. He knew McClain was in on closed door meetings.”

In asking for probation and community service for Mapes, his attorneys said their client never stood to personally benefit from any of his alleged misstatements and that while he accepted the jury’s verdict he “disagrees with it and continues to maintain his innocence.”

Despite Mapes’ reputation among some in Springfield as a power-hungry bully, the defense characterized him as a down-to-earth family man who rose from humble beginnings and was always “looking out for the little guy.”

In arguing to keep Mapes out of prison, Porter said Mapes was a “product of downstate Illinois” who “learned at a very young age the importance of working very hard and respecting others, of speaking less and listening more.”

One of the “underlying mistakes” in Mapes’ trial, according to Porter, was the portrayal of Mapes as part of a “triangle of power” with Madigan and McClain that ruled over the House.

Porter argued Mapes and Madigan “were not friends,” that they didn’t vacation together and hadn’t had contact since “Madigan kicked him off the ship” unceremoniously when a clerk working with Mapes in 2018 accused him of sexual harassment and abusive leadership.

Borrowing from the hit musical “Hamilton,” Porter maintained Mapes was not aware of the alleged bribery scheme involving ComEd, Madigan and McClain, despite evidence that he had emailed with McClain extensively about it.

“He was not in the room when it happened — if it did happen — in terms of Madigan and McClain and their criminal schemes,” Porter said. “He wasn’t in those conversations.”

The defense also submitted dozens of letters to the judge from Mapes’ family, friends and former colleagues describing him as a mentor, someone who would always go out of his way to help others, even when no one was looking.

“He does so not for any reward, but because he believes it is the right thing to do,” Mapes’ lawyers said.

On Sunday, prosecutors objected to the letters remaining under seal, writing that a “significant number” of them are from current and former elected officials, including a congressman, as well as employees of state government and, in one case, a sitting state appellate judge.

“If there is any case for which public disclosure is warranted and appropriate, it is this one, given the interplay between the defendant’s status as a public official and the nature of the underlying grand jury investigation,” the filing stated.

At the outset of the hearing on Monday, Kness sided with prosecutors. He said he could not “see anything in the law that tells me I have to place all of these letters under seal.”

“There is a strong presumption of public access,” Kness said. “I think that the public has a right to know who wrote letters on Mr. Mapes’ behalf and what they had to say about him.”

The judge said he would allow the defense time to redact sensitive information such as addresses, phone numbers, minors’ names, and any particularly personal anecdotes. So the letters did not become public Monday.

Mapes spent years as Madigan’s chief of staff and executive director of the state Democratic Party, when, as the speaker’s premier gatekeeper, he strode the halls of power with an almost autocratic style.

He also served as the clerk of the House, where he was known as a details-driven micromanager adept at keeping the legislative trains running.

Madigan dumped Mapes from all three positions in June 2018 after a staffer accused him of sexual harassment during a year in which the #MeToo movement cost the careers of several Madigan allies.

Whether Mapes gets to keep his pension may be a test of state guidelines.

For a public official to lose a pension, a crime generally needs to be tied directly to his public job.

Although prosecutors wanted Mapes to cooperate about a scheme that stretched into a time when he was Madigan’s chief of staff, Mapes was convicted of lying to a grand jury after he left state government.

At stake is Mapes’ more than $154,000 annual pension, and state retirement officials are expected to ask the attorney general to review the matter.

In Mapes’ trial, Madigan, McClain and Mapes were described as the major players in a triangle of power that held sway over the longtime speaker’s Democratic House caucus, government operations and major grip on statewide politics.

Mapes’ attorneys argued at trial that Mapes did his “level best” to provide truthful answers in his grand jury testimony.

They also accused prosecutors of asking open-ended questions and failing to provide Mapes with corroborating materials that might refresh his recollection of years-old conversations.

A slew of Democratic Springfield insiders lined up to testify for the prosecution, describing McClain as one of Madigan’s closest advisers, who had served with Madigan in the state legislature decades ago and had singular access to the speaker as a lobbyist for ComEd.

It was also well known around the Capitol that McClain continued to do sensitive work for the speaker after McClain’s retirement from lobbying in 2016, according to testimony.

Prosecutors also played for the jury multiple wiretapped calls where Mapes was captured talking with McClain about issues he claimed in the grand jury to know little or nothing about.

Among them was a Madigan-orchestrated plan to dump then-state Rep. Lou Lang, D-Skokie, who was potentially facing sexual harassment allegations.

On one call from Oct. 31, 2018, McClain told Mapes he was going to wait until a batch of Lang’s fundraising checks cleared, “And then I gotta tell him that he’s gotta move on. That he has no future in the House.”

“Will you be wearing your big boy pants that day?” Mapes asked, laughing.

[milfdean4dilfcas]

Prompt 1: Day 1

"We’re both professors in the same department and it enhances your reputation with the students as a mysterious enigma and my reputation as a stone-cold terror if we pretend to hate each other, plus when we back each other up in departmental meetings everybody’s so surprised they give in right away." find the prompt here.

In the quiet corridors of the history department, whispers lingered like ghosts. Two professors stood out - Dean Winchester, renowned for his charming yet unorthodox teaching style, and Castiel Novak, known for his enigmatic demeanor and high standards.

To the students, Dean was a captivating mystery, with his disheveled hair and piercing gaze, always with a mischievous smile. Castiel, on the other hand, commanded respect with his stoic presence and piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the world. Both of them had started working at Kansas University three years ago, and since the first day seemed to have rubbed each other the wrong way.

What their colleagues didn’t know was that the façade of mystery was masking a deeper relationship – they had been in a relationship together for the past few years. They, however, saw the power of coming across as hating each other and played their part to perfection.

The differences between them at departmental meetings were legendary. Debate ensued over curriculum changes, grading policies, and budget allocations. Dean would accuse Castiel of being too harsh, while Castiel would counter charges of Dean's lack of discipline. Other faculty members watched frantically as tension buzzed through the air, unsure whether to intervene or just give in to the oddity.

However, when push came to shove, Dean and Castiel always backed each other up. It was a well-rehearsed dance, choreographed to perfection. Their unity in the face of adversity often left their colleagues stunned and speechless. No one dared to challenge them when they presented a united front.

One particular departmental meeting found them in the spotlight once again. The topic of discussion was a controversial proposal to overhaul the history curriculum. Dean and Castiel had both vehemently opposed the changes, citing concerns about academic rigor and historical accuracy.

As the debate grew heated, Dean shot a glance at Castiel, a silent signal passing between them. With a nod of understanding, Castiel stepped forward, his voice unwavering as he articulated their shared concerns with eloquence and conviction.

"And what about you, Winchester?" one of their colleagues challenged, turning to Dean with a skeptical gaze. "Do you agree with Novak's assessment?"

Dean paused for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to everyone's astonishment, he nodded. "Yeah, I do," he admitted, his tone surprisingly earnest. "Castiel is right. This proposal is a disaster waiting to happen."

The room fell into stunned silence as Dean and Castiel stood side by side, their alliance laid bare for all to see. It was a moment of unexpected unity, and their colleagues could do little but concede defeat in the face of such solidarity.

As the meeting drew to a close, Dean and Castiel exchanged a subtle smirk, their secret intact. They knew that their reputation as rivals would only be further solidified by their unexpected alliance.

Outside the meeting room, students whispered excitedly about the showdown they had witnessed, marveling at the enigmatic duo who held sway over the department with their mysterious dynamic.

And so, the legend of Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak, the mysterious enigma and the stone-cold terror, continued to grow, their reputations intertwined in a web of secrecy and intrigue.

[xtruss]

New York Times Announces Imran Khan as Winner of Pakistan Elections in a “Heavily Rigged By The Corrupt $$$ Army Generals” Elections.

The party of the imprisoned former prime minister of Pakistan, Imran Khan, won the most seats in parliamentary elections this week, delivering a strong rebuke to the country’s powerful generals and throwing the political system into chaos.

While military leaders had hoped the election would put an end to the political turmoil that has consumed the country since Mr. Khan’s ouster in 2022, it has instead plunged it into an even deeper crisis, analysts said.

Never before in the country’s history has a politician seen such success in an election without the backing of the generals — much less after facing their iron fist.

In voting on Thursday, candidates from Mr. Khan’s party, Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf, or P.T.I., appeared to win about 97 seats in the National Assembly, the lower house of Parliament, the country’s election commission reported on Saturday. The military’s preferred party, the Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz, or P.M.L.N., led by a three-time former prime minister, Nawaz Sharif, won at least 73 seats, the commission said. Only seven seats were left unaccounted for — not enough to change the outcome as reported by the commission.

While candidates aligned with Mr. Khan were set to be the largest group in Parliament, they still fell short of a simple majority — setting off a race between the parties of Mr. Khan and Mr. Sharif to win over other lawmakers and establish a coalition government.

Leaders of Mr. Khan’s party also said they planned court challenges in dozens of races that they believe were rigged by the military, and said they would urge their followers to hold peaceful protests if the remaining results were not released by Sunday.

The success of Mr. Khan’s party was a head-spinning upset in an election that the military thought would be an easy victory for Mr. Sharif. Ahead of last week’s election, Pakistan’s powerful generals had jailed Mr. Khan, arrested candidates allied with him and intimidated his supporters to clear his party from the playing field — or so they thought. Instead, the election results confirmed that Mr. Khan remains a formidable force in Pakistani politics, despite his ouster and subsequent imprisonment.

On Friday evening, Mr. Khan’s party released a victory speech using a computer-generated voice to simulate that of Mr. Khan, who has been jailed since August. “I congratulate you all for your election 2024 victory. I had full confidence that you would all come out to vote,” the A.I.-generated voice said. “Your massive turnout has stunned everybody.”

The success of Mr. Khan’s party upended the decades-old political playbook governing Pakistan, a nuclear-armed nation of 240 million. Throughout those years, the military has wielded ultimate authority, guiding its politics behind a veil of secrecy, and civilian leaders have typically risen to power only with its support — or been driven from office by its heavy hand.

The vote also showed that Mr. Khan’s strategy of preaching reform and railing against the military has resonated deeply with Pakistanis — particularly young people — who are disillusioned with the political system. It also proved that his loyal base of supporters was seemingly immune to the military’s old tactics for demoralizing voters, including arresting supporters and issuing long prison sentences to their political leaders days before the vote.

Mr. Khan, a former cricket star turned populist politician, was sentenced to a total of 34 years in prison after being convicted in four separate cases on charges that included leaking state secrets and unlawful marriage, and that he has called politically motivated.

Three of those verdicts were issued just days before the vote — an old tactic used by the military, analysts say. But early estimates show that around 48 percent of the voters turned out for the election, according to the Free and Fair Election Network, an organization of civil society groups. Voter turnout in the country’s past two elections was about 50 percent, the organization said.

The results were “both an anti-establishment vote and also a vote against the status quo, against the two other major political parties that have been ruling the country and their dynastic politics,” Zahid Hussain, an analyst based in Islamabad, said, referring to the military as the establishment.

Without a simple majority, most analysts believe it will be difficult for Mr. Khan’s party, Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf, or P.T.I., to form a government. Some P.T.I. leaders have also suggested that the party would rather remain in the opposition than lead a weakened coalition government with Mr. Khan still behind bars.

Despite lagging behind in the polls, on Friday Mr. Sharif gave a victory speech in front of a crowd of supporters of his party, P.M.L.N. He also invited other parties to join his in forming a coalition government, suggesting that such a coalition would not include P.T.I.

“We are inviting everyone today to rebuild this injured Pakistan and sit with us,” he said in a speech in Lahore, the capital of Punjab Province.

But any coalition Mr. Sharif manages to form will face serious political challenges. The coalition government led by P.M.L.N. after Mr. Khan’s ouster was deeply unpopular and widely criticized failing to address an economic crisis that has battered the country and sent inflation to record highs.

The incoming government is also likely to face a serious legitimacy crisis. The election on Thursday has also been criticized by some as one of the least credible in the country’s history, and delays in releasing the election results have led to widespread allegations that the military tampered with the vote count to tip the scales back in P.M.L.N.’s favor.

With P.T.I. promising bruising and lengthy court battles over the results, it could be some time before any party manages to form a government.

“We will pursue all legal options, and we will pursue all constitutional options,” said the P.T.I. leader, Raoof Hasan.

[chrinopiqua]

Never Whisper in Windy Weather

Mr. Delacroix, the school's dramatic music teacher with a flair for the theatrical, stood before his class, his cape billowing as if on cue with the windy weather outside. "Today, we discuss a rule of utmost importance: Never Whisper in Windy Weather." His voice, usually reserved for dramatic solos, carried a serious, almost ominous tone.

As the wind howled against the classroom windows, he continued, "Whispering in the wind is not just a matter of being heard. It's a symbolic act, one of releasing your secrets and dreams into the wild gusts, never to be reclaimed."

Mr. Delacroix paced the room, his eyes capturing each student in turn. "Consider the wind as an entity, a carrier of voices. In ancient times, people believed that the winds were messengers of the gods, taking prayers and pleas to the heavens." He stopped by the window, looking out at the swirling leaves. "But if those whispers contain your deepest desires, the wind might just keep them, scattering them to the corners of the earth."

He turned back to the class, his expression intense. "It's like composing a symphony, only to let the notes fly away in a storm. The music is lost, the melody unheard."

A student, intrigued by the theatrics, asked, "Mr. Delacroix, is this really true? Can the wind take away our dreams?"

Mr. Delacroix nodded gravely. "Indeed, it can. I once knew a talented singer, Isabelle, who whispered her dream of performing at La Scala into the wind. Alas, the wind carried her dream away, and she never graced the stage."

A student in the back, her voice barely above a whisper due to the class's captivated silence, spoke up. "But Mr. Delacroix, if the wind can take away whispered words, doesn't that make it powerful? Why not use it to send our dreams where they need to go?"

Mr. Delacroix's face softened. "Ah, it's a metaphor, of course. But metaphors hold power. In the world of art and music, we deal with symbols and signs. To whisper a dream is to say it’s not worth the breath it takes to speak it aloud."

A student, with a hint of skepticism in her voice, asked, "But Mr. Delacroix, aren't there times when we need to keep our dreams to ourselves? When they're too precious to share?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. "There's a difference between guarding a dream and fearing to voice it. A dream kept secret out of fear never gets the chance to grow. It's about confidence, my dear, not secrecy."

"Speak your dreams with conviction," he continued, "as you would sing a grand aria on the stage. Let the winds be your audience, not the thief of your aspirations."

Another student, caught up in the moment, whispered, "But isn't it just a superstition?"

The music teacher fixed him with a stern gaze. "Perhaps. But why risk it? The wind is a powerful force, an unseen carrier of fate. Guard your dreams and secrets closely; speak them firmly and with intention, lest they be swept away in a gust of unfulfilled wishes."

He concluded, his voice softening, "Let your dreams be as strong as your voice. Sing them into existence, don't whisper them into oblivion."

[carewyncromwell]

Torvus 🤝 Carewyn

The Wizarding World overall has always had a difficult relationship with all intelligent magical creatures that were not human. Goblins were denied wand use and could often only find stable employment in the Wizarding World through working in magical banks, since the Statute of Secrecy insisted they and other magical Beings stay out of Muggle view. Werewolves were treated as second-class citizens and chased out of most solid employment once their status came to light. Elves were often reduced down to mere slaves in the households of old Pureblood families despite having magic that easily outstripped wizards in regards to power. And the list went on.

Despite this, there were amazingly quite a few such non-human creatures that ultimately helped defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort, when he sought to take over the entirety of Wizarding Britain. At the Battle of Hogwarts in particular, the Order of the Phoenix's ranks included known werewolf Remus Lupin, and it was also backed up by reinforcements such as the school's house elves and (to everyone's surprise) the centaur herd that lived in the Forbidden Forest. One of the bravest members of the herd was one of its youngest warriors -- a stern dark-haired centaur with a tanned, young adult face and a dun-colored flank named Torvus -- and after the Battle, he was bestowed many honors by both the school's professors and his herd, all of which he accepted with very understated gratitude.

Imagine the herd's surprise, therefore, when their grim, stoic hero reacted with visible excitement, in response to a well-dressed, ginger-haired human with red lipstick coming to visit the Centaur Camp after the battle.

"Carewyn!"

Torvus's voice was very low and resonant, but echoed with great warmth as he galloped up to the human. He towered over her, to the point that she was encompassed in his shadow as he trotted quickly around her, looking her over. She was smiling just as broadly as he was, even with how wide her eyes were.

"Torvus!" said Carewyn, her wide eyes bright with delight. "Merlin -- Hagrid wasn't kidding, you have grown a lot!"

"Such is typical for us centaurs," Torvus said mildly, as he continued to look her over with something like muted amusement. "You, however, seem to have only become smaller, old friend."

Carewyn gave a light scoff. "I'm exactly the height I was before, thank you. If you were too, that'd be obvious -- "

"Torvus."

Torvus looked up at the herd's second-in-command, Bane, as he approached. The large black-flanked, bearded centaur glanced from Torvus to down at Carewyn with visible disgust and disapproval.

"What is the meaning of this?" he said, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. "Did my ears actually catch you calling this human your friend?"

Torvus shifted so as to stand right behind Carewyn, bending just enough so that he cast his shadow completely over her.

"Bane, this human is Carewyn Cromwell," Torvus said very lowly. His face had become much more stoic again. "She is an old friend of our herd. Hagrid has delivered gifts from her in the past, around the Winter Solstice -- "

"Hagrid has not been a friend of the herd in many a year," Bane said very sharply.

"A fact that only came about in large part because of his protection of me."

All of the centaurs turned, to make room for another kinder-voiced one as he approached. Despite the large hoof-shaped scar stamped into his chest and his immense height, this new arrival moved with both conviction and an almost deer-like grace.

Carewyn's eyes lit up.

"Firenze!" she said, delighted.

Firenze approached Carewyn at a much more leisurely trot, but was otherwise just as warm in his welcome as Torvus. He even opened his hands to take both of hers.

"Carewyn Cromwell," the part-time Divination professor greeted her with a fond smile. "I was very pleased to see your star's trajectory shifting back towards Hogwarts, if only temporarily."

"I'm so glad you're back home with your herd again," Carewyn said earnestly.

Firenze glanced back at Bane's counterpart -- the older, dark-haired leader of the herd called Magorian -- as he too clopped forward to get a better look at Carewyn. Magorian looked less condescending than Bane, but he still studied Carewyn very critically, his black eyes tiny sparkling pinpricks on his face with how narrowed they were.

"Remind me of these gifts Carewyn Cromwell has sent our herd, Torvus?" said Magorian.

Torvus moved that little bit closer to Carewyn so that his head was right over hers, as he stared down his herd's leader.

"Nine years prior," he said very stoically, "Carewyn secured the herd's blessing through gifting us a loaf of hand-baked banana bread, a batch of Hagrid's rock cakes, branches of fresh sage, and our most extensive star chart. She then brought me many other edible gifts throughout that year and the following year, and upon her graduation from the wizards' school, sent the herd other handmade goods through Hagrid. Most recently, three years ago, Hagrid passed along a box from her that contained what she called 'candied oranges.'"

"Magorian, if I may speak?" asked Firenze. Upon the leader giving a nod of consent, he pressed on, "I can testify to Carewyn's character. I was the one who first welcomed her into our herd -- "

Bane blustered through his nose and lips. "Hardly surprising -- you've always had a soft spot for humans, Firenze -- "

"I thought that you, like the rest of the herd, had come to see the rightness of us helping the humans in their fight against the Dark Lord," Firenze challenged him.

"That may be," Bane shot back, "but just because we had to ally ourselves with humans for our own self-preservation doesn't mean we have to befriend the creatures that have deemed the world we occupy theirs alone to control -- "

"Firenze, you said you wished to speak in regards to Carewyn Cromwell's character," Magorian cut off both of the younger centaurs, crossing his arms. "Was what you said truly all you wished to say?"

Firenze's eyes narrowed just a bit as he turned his focus back onto the leader.

"No. Prior to being welcomed to our camp, Carewyn helped with breaking the curse on the Vault placed in our Forest by the four Founders of Hogwarts school. In doing so, she brought peace to this forest."

"She also returned my lost arrowhead to me," Torvus interjected quickly.

"Torvus." Firenze shot the younger centaur a short, but still supportive look over his shoulder -- almost as if reminding him to let him do the talking. "...Carewyn's efforts likewise brought peace to our herd, as well, by helping Torvus reclaim his honor and bringing him back into the fold. Not to mention that her treats have always been quite tasty," Firenze added with a bit of a smile in his expression.

Magorian cocked his eyebrows at Firenze. He then glanced from Torvus to down at Carewyn still standing tall in his shadow.

"Do you agree with Firenze's assessment of your achievements, Carewyn Cromwell?" he asked.

Carewyn tried very hard not to look away or blink, however much she wanted to.

"Firenze is very kind," she said quietly. "But I can't take full credit for dealing with the Forest Vault -- I couldn't have done what I did without my friends. Hagrid and Torvus, included."

She shot a quick glance at Bane before returning her gaze to Magorian.

"...If I may, though," she said respectfully, though she didn't give any opening for Bane or otherwise to prevent her from speaking. "I understand if I'm no longer welcome in your home. However much I consider Torvus a friend, and I always will...I know how much he values his family. I would never want to come between him and you. And Bane's right -- witches and wizards have done you a lot of wrong. We still do, in a lot of ways. Even if you had to fight with humans to fight a greater evil, that hasn't changed. And even if I don't agree with how centaurs have been treated, that doesn't mean that it hasn't defined my world and the life I live in it. Nor does it mean I haven't found success in that world that overlooks or even demonizes Beasts and Beings that don't conform to Ministry standards...in part because I am able to conform to those standards."

Bane's face scrunched up completely, his eyes flashing with resentment. All of the other centaurs, though, seemed to react much less distrustfully -- most looked confused or curious, but Firenze and Torvus were both smiling, and even Magorian considered Carewyn with something almost intrigued.

"It's rare to hear a human be so critical of her own kind," the herd leader said levelly. "And rather eloquently so."

He straightened up slightly, his black eyes boring into her from above with a bit less suspicion.

"Very well. I shall uphold Firenze's initial judgment, Carewyn Cromwell. You are welcome, among our herd."

Both Carewyn and Torvus couldn't completely fight back large grins. Torvus quickly gave a respectful bow to the herd leader, before beckoning Carewyn further into the camp.

"Come, Carewyn," said Torvus, his stoic face once betraying that warmth from before that made him look considerably younger. "We can sit further in, and you can tell me of you and your brother's place in this War. Then I can tell you of the Battle waged at the castle."

Carewyn nodded and immediately followed Torvus away from the rest of the herd and deeper into the camp.

For the next few hours, Torvus and Carewyn sat by the roaring fire, catching up. Carewyn told Torvus of her and Jacob's covert assistance of the Order of the Phoenix, her having to stay undercover at the Ministry to sabotage the Death Eaters' efforts, and Jacob both hiding fugitives in his flat and at one point even dousing a dangerous strain of Fiendfyre set loose in Hogsmeade village by the Death Eaters at great risk to his own safety.

"I saw your brother, at the battle," said Torvus, "though we had no chance to speak during it. Your brother appeared to have suffered great losses, there."

Carewyn nodded sadly. The faces of Fred, Tonks, Lupin, and Snape all brushed over her mind.

"We all have," she murmured.

Torvus actually reached in to brush a loose hair off of Carewyn's shoulder, before bringing the rest of it behind her ear. Carewyn wasn't used to people being in her personal bubble like that, but she knew that centaurs in particular expressed affection through fixing and grooming each other's hair. She offered Torvus a weak smile, which Torvus returned with a stoic, but still gentle look.

"Our herd was lucky, to have no casualties," he said. "Though I believe that's because most of us did not join the battle until the second half. Only Firenze was brave enough to fight from the start...the rest of us were hesitant to oppose the will of the stars, even though Hagrid triggered our conscience. It was but when I pointed out the position of Sagittarius and the North Star in the heavens that any of the centaurs allowed themselves to hope that our efforts could turn the tide of battle."

"And you did," said Carewyn, beaming. "Hagrid said that you were particularly brave. He said you took down multiple Acromantula single-handed and saved several teachers' lives."

Torvus shook his head modestly. "Thank you. I am grateful for the praise I have received -- though I remain unsure how much of my efforts were built on my own talents, or if Fate and Potter's own magic had machinations to make my efforts so meaningful."

Carewyn frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When Potter went out to the Forest to give up his own life to the Dark Lord, his sacrifice -- although ultimately not resulting in his death -- still nonetheless sparked to life a powerful protective magic. All because the sacrifice was still so selfless and sincere."

Carewyn's eyes widened, lighting up with realization.

"Love," she breathed. "Potter was ready to sacrifice his life to try to protect Hogwarts."

Torvus nodded, his lips touched with the shadow of a smile. "Indeed. And that spell prevented the Dark Lord or his followers to land any permanent damage on the school or its occupants. So by fighting in the battle...my herd and I both ensured our own safety and were likely given additional strength, in helping to protect those others Potter meant to protect."

Carewyn smiled a bit more too. "Even so...you must not have known anything about that until the Battle was over. I'd say that still made what you did incredibly brave."

Torvus's black eyes softened. "Thank you, Carewyn. As were your words to Magorian -- I think he was impressed by your conviction, when you'd been received with little warmth or trust."

"Your herd had reason to not trust me," said Carewyn. "I am a human, and a witch as well -- and a lot of witches don't treat centaurs with respect. I had to work quite closely with one during the War, much to my displeasure," she added contemptuously.

Torvus cocked his eyebrows. "Ah yes -- the one called Dolores Umbridge, I believe you mean? Firenze has heard much of her exploits at your Ministry, through Minerva McGonagall. I was quite displeased to hear that she didn't learn her lesson, after the justice we bestowed upon her two years ago."

"What did you do to her?" Carewyn asked, cocking her eyebrows as well. "From what I heard, Umbridge was absolutely traumatized by that whole affair."

Torvus gave a light bluster through his lips. "Her trauma came about from her own flaws of character, more than anything we did. The pathetic creature was so disgusted of us merely touching her that we hardly needed to use our weapons -- merely dragging her through the forest, tossing her between us and taunting her the whole while, was enough to terrify her..."

"Well, admittedly, being carried up off the ground by complete strangers who are stronger than you with no chance at escape can be rather scary," Carewyn said coolly. "Especially for women of shorter stature."

"Believe me when I say we would never have treated you with such lack of care," said Torvus stiffly. "Least of all because you wouldn't have conjured ropes trying to strangle our leader or called us 'filthy half-breeds,' 'uncontrolled animals,' and 'creatures of near-human intelligence.'"

Carewyn looked disgusted, but not surprised.

"I never said I thought Umbridge didn't deserve what she got," she said primly. "I was very glad to put her under citizen's arrest the first moment I had."

Her red lips danced with a bit more mischief as she added, "And to forcibly clear out her office. I've always liked cats -- but Umbridge really has made it very difficult for me to like anything patterned with them."

When Carewyn finally left the Centaur Camp, Torvus, Firenze, and Magorian all sent her off with good wishes. Magorian reiterated the promise that she would be welcome to visit the Camp in the future, if she so desired, and that any gifts she were to send through Hagrid would be accepted with open arms. Firenze even gave Carewyn a parting gift of several branches of lavender, bound with twine.

"Lavender has protective properties," said the part-time Divination professor. "It can ward off negative energies that may surround the holder. And if I'm not mistaken, lavender is a scent you're attuned to," he added with a wryer smile, with a pointed twitch of his nose.

Carewyn covered her mouth to hold in a giggle. "I keep lavender sachets in my bureau. Thank you, Firenze."

Torvus himself walked Carewyn out of the Camp all the way to the perimeter of the Forest, and the two exchanged a hug before parting.

Carewyn sadly had much less chance to visit Hogwarts and Torvus by extension as much as she would've liked, around all the work she had to do for the Ministry...but through gifts and mutual friends, they stayed in touch, and whenever they did get the chance to collide again, the two stoic personalities would both light up when in each other's presence.

Friendship Drabble Prompt!

[ourbygoneage]

Ch 29: Back in Full Force Verse 4

The city of Eugene loomed ahead, its streets a labyrinth of possibilities and uncertainties. The four horsemen pedaled onward, their bikes gliding through the desolate streets as the sun sank lower in the sky. The urgency of their mission weighed heavily on their minds.

Rachelle glanced at Erzabet, her voice tinged with a mix of hope and curiosity. "Erzabet, can you make another phylactery? We'll need all the help we can get to control the approaching horde."

Erzabet's gaze met Rachelle's, her eyes flickering with ancient wisdom and a hint of sorrow. She let out a sigh, a cloud of uncertainty hanging in the air. "Creating a new phylactery is no simple task, Rachelle. It requires a unique and potent essence to amplify the power of the music."

Tailor's brows furrowed with intrigue. "What kind of essence are you talking about, Erzabet?"

Erzabet hesitated for a moment, a veil of secrecy veiling her true knowledge. "To control such a vast number of zombies, the music needs to be fueled by a special blood. It must come from someone with a deep connection to the source of their creation."

Rachelle's expression shifted, her eyes narrowing inquisitively. "And where can we find such blood?"

Erzabet's voice held a tinge of evasion, as she chose her words carefully. "The blood we need is tied to those who have a profound connection to the origins of this world and the powers that shape it."

Tailor exchanged a knowing glance with Trace, their curiosity piqued. They sensed that Erzabet was withholding information, but understood her reasons for doing so.

Trace spoke up, his tone gentle but insistent. "Erzabet, we trust you, but we need to understand. How can we obtain this specific blood?"

Erzabet's eyes softened, revealing a hint of sympathy. "The blood we require comes from those associated with the Illuminati. That's how they're controlling them from so far away."

Rachelle's brows furrowed with concern. "But Erzabet, how did you get the first phylactery?"

Erzabet's lips pressed to a thin line, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "In due time, dear friends, the path will reveal itself. The journey we embark on is a testament to our resilience and determination. Trust that the answers will come when the time is right."

Tailor's hand tightened around the handlebars of his bike, his mind grappling with the enigma before them. The road ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but he knew that they had to press on.

"Erzabet, we trust your guidance," Tailor said firmly, his voice filled with determination. "If this is the path we must take to save humanity, then we will find a way. We will face the challenges head-on and protect those who still stand against the horde."

Trace nodded in agreement, his eyes shining with unwavering resolve. "We've faced countless trials already, and this is just one more obstacle to overcome. We'll uncover the secrets and do whatever it takes to fulfill our mission."

Rachelle's gaze shifted between her comrades, her voice steady with conviction. "If the blood of the Illuminati holds the key to controlling the music and leading the zombies away from the innocent, then we will find a way to access it. Our determination and resourcefulness will guide us through the darkness."

[oss-punishment]

Chapter 6-Whereabouts of the Miracle; Scene 2

Original Sin Story: Punishment, pages 114-117

Hey, darling

Can you hear this voice?

Hey, darling

If you can hear this voice

Throw my remains in that ark in the temple

And resurrect me

.

--The ceremony celebrating Irina’s inauguration as queen was being held in the castle.

On that day alone, the average citizen was allowed to freely enter the castle at will.

.

Kiril was making his way up to the castle, shouldering an enormous wooden box on his back.

Partway through, he came to a certain spot and paused.

It was a small gravesite.

On the brand new gravestone there was written the name “Milky Eights”.

“…”

For a brief time, Kiril continued to stand wordlessly before that gravestone, bringing his hands together.          

.

The ceremony site.

A great many people were gathered there, all celebrating the girl who stood upon the altar.

Irina…

Kiril stared up at the sight of his little sister who had become queen.

A demon, smiling like an angel.

Kiril could feel the thoughts inside him changing to convictions.

She…isn’t Irina anymore.

It wasn’t that she’d been changed by some “malice” that she’d been born with.

That’s what he wanted to believe.

That it was rather some demon that had come from another world, and taken over her body.

The one who killed Elluka—wasn’t Irina.

It was that demon.

…

Kiril clutched a golden knife in his hands.

He was struggling to make a decision as to what he would bring it down on.

If he stabbed Irina to kill the demon, she would die too.

Kill my little sister? I could never do that, he said to someone in his mind. Isn’t that right, Elluka?

A way to kill the demon without killing Irina…

Ultimately, Kiril failed to come up with anything before the ceremony ended.

.

As he was walking down the corridor, Kiril was called to a halt by a soldier.

“Oi, you. What’s that huge suitcase you’ve got there?”

Kiril replied with empty eyes, “Hah…It’s a magic device. I finished repairing it for one of the senators, and now I’m on my way to deliver it to him.”

“Delivering a repair job…today of all days?”

“I’m here because of what day it is. Ordinarily a regular citizen like me could never get into the castle this easily, so I figured today was a good opportunity to do so.”

“Hmph. …Just to be safe, I’ll have to check the contents.”

The soldier stretched his hand towards the big box over Kiril’s back.

But in that moment—

“Hold on. Don’t open that.”

Someone stopped the soldier.

“S-Senator Gammon!”

“This is an article of the highest secrecy. It wouldn’t be ideal to just put it out in plain sight so easily.”

“So this was a commission for the head of the senate…In that case there’s no problem, yes.”

“…That’s that.” Gammon turned back to Kiril. “Now, please take this to my room.”

“Sigh…Of course, sir.”

Kiril once more started walking.

.

Why had the head of the senate come to his aid? ...He didn’t know, but even so Kiril kept pushing forward.

Naturally, Gammon’s room was not his real destination. Kiril didn’t even know where his room was to begin with.

The place he was after was—

The LeviaBehemo temple, in the heart of the castle.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[startanewdream]

Padfoot & Minnie

Summary: Minerva meets Sirius for the first time after finding out he was innocent all along. (Companion piece for Afternoon tea)

Notes: I may take a time out of writing oneshots for a while because I want to dedicate to another project (I didn't forget any pending ask, I promise! - I'm just really excited with this new idea). But before that, please enjoy this moment that definitely happened between Sirius and Minerva.

It took two Order meetings until Minerva found herself face to face with Sirius Black alone at Grimmauld Place.

She was late for the meeting, having been almost followed by one Ministry employer (they had the right idea that she would stand with Dumbledore, but also the wrong idea that they could follow her), and she ought to enter the meeting room immediately, but she stopped at the sight of Sirius Black standing alone in another room, his arms crossed and looking rather thoughtful.

She took out her raincoat and stood still watching his figure.

Minerva had met other versions of Sirius Black in the past. First, that eleven-year-old boy who was too energetic and couldn't spend a day without plotting something with his best friend - then with his group of friends. Then that teenager who was trying desperately to stand aside from his family and made many mistakes in the process. Then an idealist soldier in a war that he was too young to be fighting.

Then he had been a traitor for years. Then an escaped convict.

And now he was a wrongly convicted innocent that seemed haunted by ghosts past.

The youthful Sirius Black that Minerva once knew was gone, replaced by that taciturn man who would only show a gleam when he was in the company of Remus Lupin or when he would speak of Harry Potter. And even then the light was dimmed in comparison to how bright Minerva had seen that boy in the past.

He turned to her and when their eyes met Minerva knew she couldn't delay this moment anymore. There were things she needed to tell him.

But he talked before she could when Minerva entered the dining room - or what resembled one in a very distant past.

'You got old, Professor'.

Minerva lifted her eyebrow.

'You got thinner'.

'Well, they don't keep a balanced diet in Azkaban. And last year it was mostly rats… did you ever eat one?'

'I beg your pardon?’

'Rats', he repeated, winking at her with so much mischief that for a moment she hoped to hear James' laugh echoing in the room. James always laughed at Sirius' jokes. 'They are actually tasty. Have you ever had one?'

'I most certainly have not'.

'Didn't even chase a little innocent mouse?'

'I know how to control my impulses, Mr. Black'.

'So there are impulses', he said, chuckling. 'I once chased a cat. Lily wasn't happy, but I told her I couldn't help myself'.

Minerva blinked.

'So the rumours were true after all?', she asked, trying not to sound very curious. 'You, Potter and…'

'Yeah, we managed that'. He gave her a lopsided smile. 'How many points would you give us for becoming animagus?'

'You mean awarding minors who took the risk of forever damaging their bodies to turn into unregistered animagi while breaking a few hundred school and wizarding rules?'

'I expected two hundred points at least', Sirius said, unabashed by her comment. 'It was impressive that we did it - and no one ever found out'.

'Turning into animals to hang out with a werewolf. You were out of your minds'.

'We were', Sirius agreed proudly. Minerva fought back a smile; Black and Potter had more talent than sense, and they knew it. They would thrive with the idea of becoming animagus.

'How old were you?'

'We started in Second Year. Accomplished just before the beginning of your Fifth Year'.

'Fifteen', she whispered. 'And it only took you two years?'

'We had a lot of free time', Sirius joked.

Minerva remembered the amount of mischief they caused and the equal amount of detention they got into. It didn't seem they had time - but they certainly had the drive to.

'How did you prepare the potion?'

'Bathroom of our dormitory. James knew a lot of house-elves because of the time he spent in the kitchens and we made them sworn secrecy'.

'And the mandrake?'

'We did it in the summer. A whole month silent. James wrote that his parents thought he was fulfilling a very weird promise. My parents didn't notice'.

Sirius looked around the room and then to the ceiling above with disdain. Minerva remembered talking to a young teenager, so full of anger and confusion; he hated his family so much that he had ran away. He'd promised he would never be like them - and then Minerva had thought Sirius had broken that promise when she saw the news he had betrayed the Potters.

Except they had all been wrong.

'Sirius - I am truly -'

'Don't be, Professor', Sirius said hurriedly. 'I understand why people believed I was the traitor. It was my idea to change the secret keeper without telling anyone after all - it's all my fault'.

He sounded so bitter that her heart broke a little.

'I do not believe it's your fault'.

'James and Lily are dead. If I had kept their secret -'

'You did. There is only one real traitor in this story and it's not you'.

Minerva thought of little Peter Pettigrew, so anxious to be like his friends. For years she thought she had been too hard with him - and now she wasn't sure of anything more.

'Thank you, Professor'.

Minerva hesitated for a few seconds.

'I am not your professor anymore, Sirius'.

'So I get to call you Minnie officially?', he asked, more joyful now.

She fought back a laugh.

'Only if you want to turn into a cactus. But I will allow you to call me Minerva'.

Sirius smiled and for a moment Minerva saw the ghost of the boy he once was.

_______

Remus yawned lazily. The best thing he could say about that meeting was that it was over quickly. Any meeting with the presence of Severus Snape felt heavier; no wonder Sirius had exploded in the first minutes of the meeting and left the room.

Remus knew he should go after him now, calm him down and explain what had been discussed. He hoped Sirius was feeling better, but he doubted it - that house brought too many memories for him.

Before he could go upstairs, he heard noises coming from the dining room opposite the kitchen.

He walked quietly to not wake up that infernal portrait of Sirius' mother and stopped at the door.

'Well', Sirius was saying, a note of joy in his voice that was rare these days. 'I can show you mine if you show me yours'.

'Mr. Black…'

'What happened with Sirius?'

'Maybe you are pushing your limits, Sirius'.

'It's just for a few seconds. I give you my word I won't even try to sniff… anything'.

'You can't be seri… well, you probably are anyway’.

‘Oh, I’m always serious. Think of it as a sort of welcoming gift after years with nothing more than dementors for company’.

There was a short silence, then a sigh. ‘Very well. I will grant your wish, this one time only'.

Remus heard a soft sound, then another heavy one, and then silence.

Curious, Remus pushed the door quietly. He did not know what he expected, but it wasn't this.

There was a familiar black dog lying lazily on the floor of the dusty room, but what surprised him really was the tabby cat above the dog, calmly pressing each of its front paws in the fur in the dog's back, in and out, almost distractedly, as if massaging the dog. Then the cat sat, the body covering its paws and ressembling a bread loaf, and caught sight of Remus; the cat threw him the most stern look he had even seen on a cat, looking almost as if daring him to say anything. Remus would recognize the glass marks around the cat's eyes anywhere even without that severe expression on its face.

On the ground, the dog winked at him.

Remus blinked in answer and closed the door quietly. No one would believe him if he told and in any case, this seemed like a moment between Sirius and Minerva anyway.

He just hoped James was watching this from wherever he was.

________

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