#and yeah when i said its mst time

[review-anon]

Sorry the stream wasn't fun for you because of the terrible book. Were there any funny moments from Bubbles and friends tho?

//Hmm well aside from the six thousand technical issues.

//The best has to be Starby doing a Ojima and zoning out when the bad fanfiction is being read out.

//Another is that TA and Starby don't know what MST is which jesus christ am I that old? Granted I got it from the fanfic circles since it was a common term but do people today seriously not know what MST is?

//God I wish I could just zone out when not sleep deprived when reading terrible stuff.

[nochiquinn]

book three part 4 FINAL

(thank you for indulging this project; if it made you at all interested in the books there are roughly one hundred million more words than I included here and you should check them out at the author's website here. also if you have no idea wtf this is (understandable since it took me nine years to finish it), the full list is at the top of my masterpost page because the tags have never wanted to aggregate properly. thank you again and enjoy this last installment of The Saga Of Edda Earth MST Edition)

How very Roman, Freya murmured.

Is he, y'know, [pantomines calling the enemy onto your own turf instead of chasing them down forever] Roman?

Odin rubbed at his empty eye socket.

that sounds disgusting. I suppose someone who actually has one eye knows what that actually means/feels like, but my mental image is Not Pleasant.

Sigrun wanted to tell Quetzalcoatl, You had better survive, old friend, but the usual sense of cognitive dissonance stayed the words. Ehecatl was in there. But so, too, was Quetzalcoatl, who had been ancient before she was born. She didn’t have the right to address him as a comrade in arms.

except he literally is. he is literally your peer at this point. maybe he has seniority, but you are both gods and I am going to spray you with a water bottle

“I am saying my farewells.

checking in with all your companions before the final boss battle

“You know, forty years or so ago, I was working my way up to trying to ask you out for coffee, when Adam got hurt, and you took the wounds from him. It was all over after that.” He shook his head in rueful amusement. “Do you ever wonder, Sig, what the world would look like, if we’d made other choices?”

YES. YES I DO.

Her eyes filled. All the time. I suspect I could have easily fallen in love with you. You were so innocent then. I’d like to think that you’d have warmed me, and that I’d have gotten along very well with Saraid, as I always have.

I'm convinced Davitt really wants to write polyam romance and just doesn't (or at least didn't at the time; I don't know her life) have the real-life reference points to know how to write a long-term polycule and instead ends up offending me personally. or equally likely is the chance that she's only familiar with the concept of a full triad 'cule, where everybody's dating everybody, and has stated in the past that she's uncomfortable writing gay relationships because of lack of personal experience to draw from (she got better in the prequel series, kind of) so doesn't know how to make a V 'cule work bc Sigrun is very straight and also [gestures at every time I've yelled at her for her Married People Don't Get To Talk To Anyone But Each Other bs].

also (bc this aside isn't long enough already) there's every chance in this hypothetical timeline that Sigrun as she was then wouldn't have shared Trennus with Saraid so easily, or Saraid with Sigrun (though the fact that Sigrun is Not Lassair might have helped).

OKAY I'M DONE BACK TO THE BOOK

“I am of Valhalla,” she said, her heart contracted down to a tiny, painful lump of cold-hot diamond in her chest. “I may love people who live here, but my loyalty is to my people, as a whole. This is the same duty I have had since I was born. This is the same duty in me that you accepted when we married. In that regard, nothing has changed, except your willingness to accept it.” She gestured at the city outside the windows. “But explain to me why I should abandon millions of my people to death, when they are in immediate danger, to protect this land, which has its own god, if a silent one?”

YEAH

(very hard not to paste their entire argument here bc we all know how much I love yelling at adam)

“How can you save anything by becoming solely destruction?” Sigrun’s voice caught. “I might ask you the same thing.”

Adam is planning to sacrifice himself to summon a godslayer, because he is an idiot. Sigrun's main abilities are healing, truthsense, and fertility. Please fuck off forever, Adam.

I trust in the gods. Because I have no faith left in humanity.

that might not be the best place for your faith either, honestly

It wasn’t black. It was the absence of light.

Vantablack. No, wait, that's not the darkest one anymore, shit

You would be surprised what I can hold inside of me, Venus snapped, and Mercury laughed, a mad, fey cackle.

always time for a dick joke

Another shockwave, and the major godling that Pluto was fighting absorbed it. Swallowed it. Stop feeding it! Juno snapped.

fucking feeders

Another tear trickled down a perfect cheek as Venus replied, He is with my beloved Mars. And if I knew where they were, I would go with you to meet them.

So Pluto pulled all of Rome into the Veil, because he's a madman, and Livorus' widow's first thought was that she was dead and would get to see him again.

WEH

“It’s said that she and the dragon, Niðhoggr, killed Hel, stole her kingdom, and now rule over the dead. So now she’s the queen of lost battles and the night sky.”

I mean. he's got the spirit.

“Maybe your friend the goddess will give us a lift on her wee dragon, then.”

Don't tease him, Sig was purposefully hiding herself. Again. (For a good reason this time, at least.)

I would be a very poor moon goddess, if I could not provide for my people in my own realm.

no dogs tho

Mothers, fathers, and children were not separated.

stares into the camera in american

Remember two years ago, when that Hellene technomancer had a suit breach when he was exploring Aristoteles Crater with the geology team? He sealed his suit by solidifying the air at the breach site itself, and prevented the air from subliming away in the vacuum.”

that's...pretty neat, actually

Linnea watched the people, who, straight-backed, continued to walk towards the great hatch that led into the hangar area. Some of them were barefoot. And last in line was a woman who was close to a jotun’s height, but covered in blue-green scales, like a nieten...but who just as plainly was not mortal. And behind her, a long, solid box of what appeared to be gold floated above the ground. “This is a god at work, Larus.” Oh, good. Gods can bend the laws of physics. That, I can accept.

I don't know why this is so fucking funny to me. "Humans are walking on the moon??? IMPOSSIB oh, a god did it. That's fine."

Why have I never remembered this before?

nith just broke sigrun's ptsd baby gate

No hiding on this night, daughter, [Tyr] chided her, gently. We do not cower in the face of death. We rejoice. You may rejoice all that you wish, Loki returned, sardonically. I plan to resist it to the end.

I enjoy Loki

Fenris, who lounged by the fire, with Ciele, Njord’s daughter, who’d fallen asleep on the wolf’s fur.

That's fucking adorable. (Of course I can only picture Fenris as the wolf goddess from mononoke and therefore Ciele is a tiny San.)

What, no flyt for Niðhoggr? Thor gibed Loki now. Nepotism, I see. Have you ever tried to rhyme ‘Niðhoggr’ with anything?

he's got a point

No, daughter. It is because your heart is too fragile yet for such. There is no target I could aim at, that would not make you bleed. And such is not the point of flyting. Flyting overturns the social order, but also reaffirms it. How can I make you one with us, by cutting you asunder with my words?

I enjoy Loki

Eat, and be renewed, Freya told her, kindly. Everyone must change to grow. Everything must change, to endure.

"be in a poly with the dragon"

She could not go back to Judea as Sigrun Caetia. She had to say farewell. Not to the people in her life, not entirely. They would always have a place in her heart, and she would always be there for them. But she had to say farewell to herself. She had to be ready to die in battle. She had to be ready to live. Either way, she had to let go.

Sigrun finally finishes ascending, after Eating The Fucking Apple. Again.

I have always wondered what Sophia felt, with her prophecies pressing in on her. And only now do I realize that I have lived with the weight of her vision all my life.

You are having A Moment and thus I will not yell at you about Sophia. I'm just gonna think about it real hard.

I love you. He forced the thought out. I have loved you since I met you. Is that not strange?

niiiith

Your mother twisted and tortured you, and held you back from all acquaintance for two thousand years. You cannot judge if you love— A low rumble of sound broke from the dragon’s chest. Yes, I can. I know what is in my heart.

I am not a smart dragon, but I know what love is

I love you, too.

y yo a ti

You love many people, Stormborn. By your own words, you could have—should have loved Worldwalker.

I know I did that whole rant up there but it wasn't in my original notes, so I'm including THIS rant from my original notes for posterity: I believe in my heart that Sigrun was made for a polyamorous lifestyle. She just never had the chance to experience it until she saw Trennus & Co. and by then she was locked into Adam's bullshit and also probably took Lassair's issues as a sign that poly doesn't work. WHICH IS WHY WE NEED MORE HEALTHY POLY REPRESENTATION I'm done now

I would have accepted him being soul-bound to me, for that it would have kept him alive, and young, and would have given you joy. And I might have shared some small spark of that joy. He paused again. And yet, I say he is a fool.

nith gets me

No more, Nith. I love him. And I love you. A mortal love, and an immortal one. One who will leave me, and one who will never forsake me.

[gestures at Polyam Sigrun Conspiracy Board with one hand and That's Not How Polyamory Works powerpoint with the other]

I love you, you who are so much more than mere death and darkness. I love you with my goddess-self, and I love you with my mortal heart. Will you take it, though it bleeds?

yessss put that dramatic emo shit in my VEINS

He shook as his form shifted and blurred, dropped to a crouch that felt wrong, because his knees no longer bent the proper way, and then stared down at his hands, recognizing them from the times he’d carried Sigrun in this shape.

where is my animorphs cover

We could course the heavens forever. Visit every star.

this is what happened with Joker and EDI in Spirit of Redemption. and I still love it.

also nith would rather flee into space than try to make his face look human.

In this case, she had the opportunity to make the face match the voice she’d heard in her mind so often.

and then sig spent ten hours in the character creator

I will resume my dragon form. No.

cowards

His instincts were, unsurprisingly, inhuman; he nipped and bit at her neck,

I just realized that Sigrun survived 44 years of the blandest, most vanilla sex mankind is capable of

And for now, she embraced the goddess.

title drop

Love is never wrong. It is sometimes inappropriately timed.

nith gets me

Nith...my sister’s prophecy... A child in your womb? The father a man alive and yet dead, your husband and yet never truly wed...

[pounds fists on table] dragon babies DRAGON BABIES

You were all bound to the defense of the city, long ago. This is the day and this is the hour that you have awaited!

The gargoyles have jumped off the Odinhall to fight the mutations attacking Burgundoi and it is every inch that one scene in the last Harry Potter movie

It came to be because it happened the way it happened, and it also came to happen because we would be and always have been bound...now.

veil time is bullshit

Catch this. What? Visionweaver had blurted, and then Dvalin had pulled the trigger. His hand had snapped up of its own accord, and there had been a dull sensation of impact, as if he’d been aiming for a nail with a hammer, and missed. He’d sworn, and brought his new hand down gingerly, fully expecting to see a gaping hole in the metal. Instead, he found the bullet, malformed and very hot, sitting in the palm of his hand.

Gloves of Missile Snaring! (did you really have to take Rig's hand off to give him these? Just let him take a level in Monk, it's fine.)

You’ve all worked with him before. You know what to look for.” “Something that lands on the Persian in front of you in the body of a wolf, and then leaps away looking like a lindworm, or a lion, or whatever the gods sent him as an impulse today?”

you leave maccis alone, he's a good, creative egg

Content with the damage he’d done for now,

I can only picture the Goose. you know which one.

A burst of quick pride; a male voice that said at the back of his head, That’s my wife. Look at her go!

wife guy brandr

“Listen. When Joris...died...you were angry. Don’t...set the world on fire. Not for me. Don’t need...that big a pyre...”

hey fuck this actually. not in the way I usually mean "fuck this" in this book but "fuck this" in the sense of Fuck This Thing In Particular

he dug his hands into the wolf’s ruff, and more or less pummeled Maccis in greeting.

solinus no he's been through Some Shit

Two hours ago. There were Persians fleeing the fight. A pause. They aren’t fleeing anymore.

I enjoy Maccis. Don't enjoy what happened to him. Just him as a concept.

Kanmi grimaced. He hated not knowing why the ground here, and the entire ley-system, seemed resistant to the deaths of mad godlings and gods. His current theory was that the god of Abraham had spread himself out into the soil of the province, silent and intangible...and turned himself into the world’s biggest heatsink, dispersing and absorbing the power of the gods who died here.

it's not the worst theory

“You...you betrayed your own kind. All the god-born have. They should be helping us against the gods!”

all of Potentia ad Poplum is very stupid

Death! came the echoes from millions of minds below, and Sigrun reeled with it, echoing the word, herself. Calling out to oblivion, acceptance and taunt. Come and take me, you bastard, if you dare.

I'll punch death, I don't give a fuck

You are bound to me, Niðhoggr, and I do not permit you to die! I will not permit you to leave me!

I'm not going back three books to check, but this seems akin to what Lassair said to Trennus before she autographed all his insides

Sadb found a bench to sit on, and for the first time in what felt like days, remembered the rose that had fallen at her feet, from the miraculous bush that had bloomed downtown, in the very face of winter. She’d have thought she’d lost it, but there it was, still tucked inside her shirt, in the protective cradle of her bodice. As she pulled it out, everyone in the training area went silent, and its scent wafted through the air, bringing with it an odd sense of peace. “What is that?” the bear-warrior asked, his voice reverent. “I’m not sure,” Sadb admitted. “I was thinking you might know.” She cradled it in her fingers, feeling unaccountably warm. And as she looked down into the petals, which had unfurled further against the warmth of her body, her eyes widened. “That’s a wonder, now,” she whispered softly, as Drust wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and looked down into the rose with her. Inside its heart, where there should have been golden stamen, they could both see a galaxy’s worth of stars swirling with cold, unending light.

Congratulations, Sadb, you're a goddess now

The Odinhall trembled, and became a pillar of light as Odin, Freya, and Tyr all liberated their entire stores of energy, at once.

Congratulations, Sig and Loki, you lead the Valhallan pantheon now. You also are the entire pantheon, but semantics.

And then, as he looked up, the stars went out.

and then they were in kingdom hearts

She couldn’t hear the screams of the men, but she could see the flash of their guns going off, and winced. Some of those bullets could injure the books on the shelves around them.

zaya's priorities are Correct

And she glanced down at the fiery tablet in her hands, and her lips started to mouth the word Azar...

HO DON'T DO IT

“Oh, I know who you are.” Her voice was thin. “Your Name is Nanghaithya. You are the daeva of discontentment. And while I have probably given you too much power in my life to this date, today, I abjure you. I am a daughter of the Magi. These archives are my charge. And this is not your place.”

zaya is more badass than you

But there is a difference between a loving parent, who steps aside to allow the child to walk on their own...and a parent who is entirely absent. Or worse, indifferent.

which sig TOLD you, and you bitched at her. you don't get to feel like you've had some great revelation (ha) now

He’d made the wrong damned choices.

y'think?

Sigrun! Neshama! I am so sorry that I couldn’t believe in you. Doubts and fears clouded my mind, and I couldn’t see. Can you ever forgive me?

look down, whisper no

—Why do you fight me? You and I are the same. We are one. We always have been, disunited on the opposite sides of time— We are not the same. You are not me. I am not you.

I am thou, thou art I

You are the first to have come so far. You are the first who has remained who you are. And thus, we are one. As we always have been.

"Humans require change to be human." "Correct." "I have stayed as I am." "This is a bad thing." "This is the best possible thing." I feel like that This Is Your Wallet tiktok audio

“Sorry, Sig,” he said, quietly. “Sorry it took me so goddamned long. I had to do it...my way, I guess.”

YOU LITERALLY DID THE THING SHE LEFT YOU FOR EVEN CONSIDERING. And instead of being part of her, beside her, you are being an enormous tool and risking the absolute worst outcome on the basis of "rip to all the other godslayer hosts but I'm different". Fuck off.

Visionweaver blinked, looking up to see Hecate join them.

We are potential, possibility, waiting to be birthed.

we are waiting for the scratch, scratch, scratch, of a universe being born

Many of the men wore tight-fitting vests of thick material that had had sleeves added to them,

Okay so Sig is looking into another universe - ours, presumably - and I cannot for the life of me figure out what this is supposed to be. Suit jackets???

She has Memory with her, where I have Thought. And she’s fought a lost battle.

there's a metaphor in here somewhere

She could see every moment of them, unfolding like the chain of lives on Juno’s tapestries, except they unfolded off the side of the road, like droplets of rain trickling along the outside of a moving motorcar’s windows. She could stare at them forever, fascinated. Hypnotized.

doors and windows

Especially as the Veil was a single dot of time, where the mortal realm was a continuum comprised of such points? She could enter the Veil, and exit it at any place in reality. And at any point in time.

it's all coming together

Such a task requires . . . an able, active gardener. Willing to prune and weed as needed. She paused. Or perhaps, instead of an absent father...an involved parent.

where's my theory about the Voice

I will knit Sophia’s mind whole, and I will tear Apollo of Delphi’s  grip from her. If he attacks me for it, I will execute him, and give his power to Sophia as a gift. Possibly with a bow to adorn it.

PUT SOPHIA IN THE GOD SQUAD

She put her arms around her former self, and Muginn cawed and leaped off the valkyrie’s shoulder, landing on Stormborn’s right shoulder, balancing opposite Huginn, who already perched on the left, and then both launched themselves to circle overhead. Sigrun put her head on Stormborn’s shoulder, and wept. Let go. Surrendered. Her outline wavered and dissolved. Faded into a sphere of energy, nestled in the palm of the goddess, with a tiny point of light inside of it. She studied it tenderly for a moment, before dissolving her armor, and tucking the spark into her bodice, just at her heart. I will give you and your memories to the next Sigrun. And like the one whose name we bear, perhaps her third chance at life will be the best. I will remain the goddess. She may choose her own way. Mortality. Divinity. Something in between. Nothing will be lost. Nothing will be forgotten. Not this time. She looked at the two ravens, as they circled over her head. Follow me. She paused. We’re going back.

WHERE'S BOOK FOUR

WHERE IS SIG3'S ADVENTURES IN A NOT-FUCKED-UP UNIVERSE

[BANGS POTS AND PANS TOGETHER] WHERE IIIIIIIS IIIIIT

[smallz-o]

who is/are your comfort character(s)? Captain Cuttlefish, SunnySideUp & Team rocket

lighter or matches? lighter

do you leave the window open at night? absolutely not my paranoia wouldnt let me

which cryptyd being do you believe in? none BUT I DO believe michael jackson faked his death

what color are your eyes? greyish blue/ bery desaturated blue

why did you do that? bc i wanted to

hair-ties or scrunchies? hair tie

how many water bottles are in your room right now? too many for me to count

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee? cold coffee definitely

would you slaughter the rich? sure, why not

favorite extracurricular activity? theater texh (but only with friends)

what kind of day is it? a below average one

when was the last time you ate? just barely while writing this

do you love the smell of earth after it rains? im indifferent to it

are you a parent? (all answers qualify) i am as a running joke between online friends

can you drive? absolutely not

are you farsighted or nearsighted? horribly and grotesquely nearsighted

what hair products do you use? shampoo :)

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails? no

do you say soda or pop? soda

something you’ve kept since childhood? a mcdonalds httyd toothless toy thats missing its wings

what type of person are you? unsure

how do you feel about chilly weather? hate it absolutely hate it

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing? getting down from said rooftop(im scared of heights)

perfume/body spray or lotion? lotion

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times? winning theoretical arguments in my brain :)

about how many hours of sleep did you get? 5 1/2 hours :D

do you wear a mask? no they're sensory hell for me soz

how do you like your shower water? hottub temperature and i like when its poundier on my back

is there dishes in your room? yes

what type of music keeps you grounded? traditional pop, (frank sinatra is so bbg)

do you have a favorite towel? yes big beach blanket towel

the last adventure you’ve been on? me and my sister driving to get dairy-free ice cream only ro go home right after

is there a song you know every word to by heart? under my skin - jukebox the ghost (i was planning on making an animatic to it but burned myself out bc i over complicated one specific part)

what’s your timezone? mst

how many times have you changed your url? once bc i noticed a typo from the first one

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years? one of my dads friends, we call him uncle

a soap bar that smells good? please

do you use lip balm? yes

did you have any snacks today? yesyes very tasty

how do you take your coffee? so sugary it will rot teeth

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site? Cake Sort and Pinterest

what’s your take on spicy foods? good when done correctly

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it? unsure, but id kill in the most comedic way possible

can you remember what happened yesterday? yes j layef in bed in pain all day. not fun :(

favorite holiday film? Santa Claus movie (fuck the sequels im talking the classic)

what was the last message you sent? "my brother in christ, get water"

when did you first try an alcohol beverage? never tried any as far as i can remember

can you skip rocks? yea not well but i can

can i tag you in random stuff? fuck yeah

wgow this was a biggin. tagging: @haloberry

@froggymagician @snevendytwelve @starriknight

COMPLETELY OPTIONAL AND ANYONE ELSE IS ENCOURAGED TO JOIN TOO

here’s weirder asks

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

lighter or matches?

do you leave the window open at night?

which cryptyd being do you believe in?

what color are your eyes?

why did you do that?

hair-ties or scrunchies?

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

would you slaughter the rich?

favorite extracurricular activity?

what kind of day is it?

when was the last time you ate?

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

can you drive?

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

what hair products do you use?

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

do you say soda or pop?

something you’ve kept since childhood?

what type of person are you?

how do you feel about chilly weather?

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

perfume/body spray or lotion?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

do you wear a mask?

how do you like your shower water?

is there dishes in your room?

what type of music keeps you grounded?

do you have a favorite towel?

the last adventure you’ve been on?

is there a song you know every word to by heart?

what’s your timezone?

how many times have you changed your url?

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

a soap bar that smells good?

do you use lip balm?

did you have any snacks today?

how do you take your coffee?

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

what’s your take on spicy foods?

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

can you remember what happened yesterday?

favorite holiday film?

what was the last message you sent?

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

can you skip rocks?

can i tag you in random stuff?

[onepiexe]

had an insanely good day at work

[justatiredpotato]

Set Me Free | Chapter 3

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 5,000~ Total: 40,000~

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: panic attacks, implied past sexual abuse/exploitation, harassment

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: In this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji

When you woke up sunlight was already streaming in through the kitchen windows. You blinked, shifting to stretch and flinching at the pain in your joints. You’d fallen asleep sitting up. Glancing down at the boy still laying on your lap, you couldn’t help but smile as you brushed his fringe out of his eyes. He nuzzled into your hand and whined, the sound more of a grumble because of his naturally low voice. You glanced up at the windows, eyes flitting to the clock on the wall. 

You sat bolt upright, a gasp leaving your lips. Yoongi was awake instantly, protectively leaning toward you while scanning the room for threats.

“What happened?” he said, words slurred together a bit from drowsiness.

“I’m late!” you leapt off the couch and sprinted into your room, door bouncing on its hinges as you tried to throw it shut behind you. “I need to open the cafe. Ugh, and the festival is starting today too!”

You paced your room, grabbing clothing items at random, already peeling off the things you’d fallen asleep in the night before. No time to wash up or do your full makeup, you thought, quickly tying your hair up in a messy bun. Hurrying to your bathroom you brushed your teeth and splashed some water on your face before applying mascara and a little bit of concealer.

“Yoongi, is my phone out there?” you called. He hollered back an affirmative. “Can you grab it and see if Jungkook has called? He’s supposed to be working today, I’m sure he’s wondering where I am.” 

You exited the bathroom, grabbing your top off the bed and pulling it on as you rummaged through the closet for your work shoes. 

“You have three missed calls from him,” Yoongi informed you, coming to bring you your phone. You didn’t see him as he pulled up short at the door, face going bright red as he saw you stumble across the room trying to pull on your black skinny jeans. He quickly looked away and pulled the door shut as quietly as he could.

 “Here’s your phone, noona,” he called through the door, still facing away. 

You pulled the door open, completely oblivious. “Thank you, Yoongi!” You leaned on his shoulder as you pulled your second shoe over your heel. “If you feel up to getting dressed and coming out front, I’ll introduce you to Kookie.” You peered at his face, noting the bright flush. “Are you feeling okay?” you asked, putting your hand to his forehead.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “You should go ahead. I’ll be out in a bit.”

You nodded, calling behind you as you headed out front, “Tell me if you aren’t feeling well. I’ll go buy some medicine.”

Yoongi let out a breath and tried to pretend he hadn’t noticed how good your butt looked in those jeans as you walked away.

When you emerged from the kitchen into the cafe you were shocked to find it open, with a few customers sitting and chatting at the small tables by the windows.

“Noona!” Jungkook greeted you cheerfully.

“Koo!” you responded, running over to wrap the tall boy in a hug. “Did you open by yourself this morning?”

“Yeah, I have a key. I figured you must’ve been really tired, so I didn’t bother you. Is that new guy giving you trouble?” Jungkook asked, concerned. “I was going to go break the door down if you didn’t come out soon.”

“Yoongi is great, though I appreciate the concern. You didn’t call Joon, did you?” you asked. He was already nervous about Yoongi staying with you. You really didn’t want another lecture about being too trusting.

“No,” he answered with a mischievous grin. “I didn’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I’m not worried about getting in trouble with my little brother!”

That was a lie. Namjoon’s lectures were notoriously long, and being his big sister did not protect you from his scolding. Jungkook laughed knowingly at your denial.

“Yoongi will be out in a little while, I want you to meet him. He’s really sweet, but he’s quiet. I figure if he gets to know you before he meets the other boys he might feel more comfortable,” you explained.

“You mean I’m your favorite? The only one you can trust for the job!” he said, bunny ears twitching happily as he puffed out his chest.

“Yep! You’re the best,” you confirmed, getting up on your tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek. “The sweetest hybrid and cutest baby brother. Don’t tell Joon or Jimin.”

He nodded, grinning. Jungkook walked over to continue cleaning the espresso machines, as he’d been doing before you arrived.

“How’s business this morning?” you asked, washing the cups that had accumulated in the sink.

“Pretty quiet so far. It’s been picking up since about 9 this morning. That’s when people really started setting up for the festival.”

The festival was a new event for the area. For the rest of the week tradesmen, business owners, and artists would occupy the plaza and promote their various products and services. They also had a stage set up at the far end where local musicians would be performing. More traffic was expected for all the businesses in the area.

“It’s only Monday, the weekend will probably pick up a lot more,” you said. 

Jungkook nodded, going to restock some of the coffee syrups on the back counter. “Is Jimin-hyung coming in to help you tomorrow?” he asked. 

Jungkook was starting classes this semester at the nearby university, where Jimin was already a dance major. You normally worked Tuesday alone, since both boys had classes. But they’d wanted you to have extra help since you’d be busy with the festival. You didn’t want to make either of them skip class, so Yoongi coming to work with you was perfect timing. You’d meant to ask him if he’d be up to starting the night before.

“I think I’m going to have Yoongi help out tomorrow. Can you help show him around and teach him today? It’d be a good opportunity to get to know each other.”

“Does that mean I get to boss him around?” Jungkook asked, eyes twinkling. He got tired of always being the maknae.

“No, he’s your hyung, and I expect you to be polite.” You shot him a look. He pouted and your expression softened. You were never able to truly scold Jungkook.

“You’re gonna like him Kookie, I know it. He’s been through a lot. I need you to help me help him, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. You ruffled his hair, scratching his ears while you were at it. 

You both continued about your tasks until Yoongi emerged. He’d dressed in a similar way to you, tidyand all black. Whether that had been an attempt at matching the dress-code or because most of what he’d bought was black, you weren’t sure.

“Yoongi!” you greeted, waving him over. “Come meet my little brother.”

He walked over to join you. Jungkook looked him over, nose twitching. You watched as the two hybrids appraised each other, knowing they could communicate a lot without words. After a moment, Jungkook broke into a darling bunny grin.

“Nice to meet you, hyung! I’m Jungkook. We kind of met before, when you came into the shop,” he held out his hand. Yoongi took it and shook politely.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Yoongi.”

None of you knew what to say after that, the pause becoming a little uncomfortable.

“I’m glad you’ll be here to help Yeoji-noona tomorrow,” Jungkook broke the silence. “Jimin-hyung, the other guy who works here, and I have classes tomorrow. It’s good she won’t be by herself.” 

Yoongi looked at you expectantly.

“Right, I hadn’t been able to tell you yet. If you feel well enough, I could really use your help tomorrow. Jungkook and I can teach you the ropes today.”

“Yeah, of course,” Yoongi said, looking around the shop.

You spent the remaining part of the morning showing Yoongi where things were and teaching him some basic recipes that people ordered frequently.

“If you forget, there’s a book with all the recipes right here.” You opened a drawer under the espresso machines. “And I’ll be with you the whole time, so you can also just ask me. Mostly I’ll have you help me with dishes and keeping things stocked.”

Yoongi paid close attention, asking questions here and there. You let Jungkook take over the teaching when a new customer came up to the counter. The two were a little stiff, clearly cautious of each other for the moment, but they seemed to relax as the hours slipped away. You sent them back to the apartment to have their lunch, and when they came back their demeanor was entirely different. You looked between the two of them, clearly surprised.

“Did you know Yoongi-hyung writes music?” Jungkook asked. His face lit up like a little kid in a toy store. You nodded, smiling at Yoongi’s quietly pleased expression.

“I’d heard you play before, but I didn’t know it was your original stuff!” he said. “You’re amazing, hyung! Can you show me some of your work sometime?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi agreed. He ducked his head, not sure how to react to the praise. He seemed to think of something and his face fell. “My keyboard got wrecked, so I won’t be able to play you anything. Sorry.”

Jungkook looked at him sadly. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jungkook asked. Yoongi just looked at him, incredulous. You smiled proudly. That’s your boy.

“I can bring my keyboard from home!” Jungkook said. Yoongi looked at the younger man hopefully.

“Really? You’d let me play it?” he asked, unsure if he could trust the generosity.

“Yeah, as long as you let me listen!” he said, his smile making his nose scrunch cutely.

You worked quietly and listened to the boys chatter on about music and Jungkook’s schooling, smiling as it blended with the pleasant background noise of the cafe.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You set several alarms on Monday night so you woke up on time Tuesday. You had tried to make Yoongi take your bed, insisting you’d be okay on the couch, but in the end he took the couch. You puttered around your room, trying to be quiet and let Yoongi sleep a little extra while you showered and put on your makeup. Once you were ready for the day you poked your head out into the living room.

“Yoon?” you called softly, walking over to the couch. He stirred a little in his sleep, burrowing further into his blanket so only his eyes showed above it. You resisted the urge to pull out your phone and snap a picture. Instead, you reached out and softly shook his shoulder.

“Yoon?” you said again, a little louder this time. “It’s time to get up, we have to open soon.”

He blinked, peering up at you through his lashes and fringe. 

“Did I oversleep?” He sat up quickly and rubbed sleep from his eyes. “I set an alarm for the time you told me.”

He examined his phone to see why it hadn’t woken him.

“Ah, I set it for PM not AM.” He looked at you apologetically.

“That’s okay,” you assured him. “I wanted to let you sleep a little longer. I feel bad having you start working so soon.”

“I’m fine!” he said, rising from his spot and folding his blanket. “Do I have time to shower before we open?”

“Yeah, take your time. I’m just going to get a couple things set up. Come out whenever you’re ready.”

He disappeared into your room to get ready and you headed out front to get the cafe ready. You took all the chairs down off the tables, straightening decorations as you went. You pulled the blinds open all the way and turned on the string lights that cast the whole place in a warm light, hopefully drawing commuters to come in out of the frigid morning air.

Then you returned to the counter to make yourself a warm drink, making some cheese toast for you and Yoongi, and making him a warm latte with lots of whipped cream. As you finished his drink he emerged from the back.

“Perfect timing!” you said. “Come have breakfast before I unlock the door.”

He grinned, looking at what you’d prepared and gratefully accepting the warm beverage.

“I made you a latte this time, since you seemed to like cream. I hope that’s okay?” you asked, unsure if you should’ve checked first.

“Yeah, I think this is actually my new favorite,” he said, taking a big sip that left a bit of whipped cream on his upper lip. You giggled, pulling out your phone.

“Don’t move!” you said. He froze with his cup just inches from his lips, looking up at you questioningly. Right then, you snapped the picture. He heard the shutter noise and groaned.

“Noona!” he whined, surprising you with the cute behavior. “Delete that!”

“Absolutely not,” you said coolly, looking happily at the picture. In the shop’s soft lighting Yoongi looked absolutely angelic. He set his drink down and reached for the phone, but you dodged away from him.

“I’m keeping it!” insisted, holding the phone behind you when he grabbed for it again. You stifled a laugh when you noticed he still hadn’t gotten the cream off his lip. He frowned at you, closer to a pout than he would ever admit.

“Wait, wait!” you said, still laughing as he continued trying to grab your phone from behind you. “I’ll let you take a silly picture of me too. Then you can embarrass me with it if I ever show this cute picture to anyone.”

He paused his attempts and considered your offer. He must’ve realized he was unlikely to get you to delete the picture, because he nodded and pulled out his phone. Your drink didn’t have whip on it, so you took a sip of his, making sure to give yourself a mustache with it. Some of it ended up on your nose too. He pulled out his phone and took the picture, chuckling as you made dumb faces at him.

“Let’s take one together!” you said as he moved to pocket his phone again. He rolled his eyes, but quickly pulled out his phone and turned to stand next to you. He bent down a little and put his arm around your shoulder to pull you into the shot. You grinned at your picture on the screen, both still sporting whipped cream on your faces. He took several pictures and you convinced him to make a couple silly faces to match yours. You glanced at the clock in the top corner of the screen.

“Oh, I need to open the front door!” you said, realizing that it was three minutes past your normal opening time.

You hurried to the door, wrestling the keys out of your pocket. As you unlocked the door and flicked on the open sign, you missed how Yoongi smiled softly, scrolling through the photos you’d just taken. Literally seconds after you turned from the door, the bell jingled. You turned to greet your first customer of the morning and were greeted by a familiar heart-shaped smile.

“Hobi!” Your face immediately lit up with a smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure, sunshine?”

“Morning, noona,” he said, wrapping you in a tight hug. “I’m making housecalls today, so I figured I’d drop by and get my caffeine fix on the way to my first patient.” He glanced up over your shoulder at Yoongi, observing the interaction from behind the counter.

“Hey there,” Hoseok called to him, walking to the counter with an arm still around your shoulders. Yoongi’s ears flattened, body tensing with anxiety as the man approached and you detached yourself from Hoseok’s side to rejoin him around the counter. You wrapped an arm around Yoongi’s waist and gestured to Hoseok.

“You guys didn’t exactly get an introduction before, huh?” you said, trying for a light tone. “This is my friend Hoseok. He’s the doctor that treated you-”

“I remember,” Yoongi interrupted, refusing to meet Hoseok’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok cut in abruptly. Yoongi glanced up at him, clearly surprised. “You were in bad shape and my priority was to get you stable. You weren’t able to give your consent for treatment at the time, but I know that it wasn’t a pleasant experience. You must’ve been scared. I sure as hell would’ve been. So, I’m sorry that you had to go through all that.”

There was a pause as Yoongi processed Hoseok’s words, seeming to scan his face for sincerity. In the end he just nodded, but you felt his thin body relax a little, ears cautiously sitting back up. 

“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to start over,” Hoseok said, holding out his hand for a shake. Yoongi raised an eyebrow, but accepted the handshake. “I’m Jung Hoseok,” the boy said, flashing another 100 megawatt smile.

“Yoongi,” Yoongi answered quietly. “Nice to meet you.”

He broke the handshake and gave a polite bow.

“You don’t have to be so formal! I told you, your only hyung here is Jin,” you said, nudging him. Hoseok smiled wider.

“Let’s get along well, hyung!” he said, bowing to Yoongi instead. Yoongi blinked at you, confused by the show of respect, but he didn’t comment on it. Hoseok stood by the counter, chatting with you happily while you made his coffee. Once he got it he waved and got on his way, turning to wave again through the window before disappearing down the sidewalk.

You and Yoongi didn’t talk much, but fell into an efficient rhythm working together. As it got busier, you focused on taking orders while Yoongi helped wash dishes and keep the tables clean. Around three, Jungkook came by, his class having let out early. He offered to take over so Yoongi could go get some rest, but he gratefully declined. He seemed to be enjoying the chill atmosphere of the cafe.

You and Jungkook talked about his classes while you served drinks to the festival-goers passing through. The sun was hanging low in the sky, string lights illuminating the plaza outside. Your attention was drawn away from the drink you were preparing when a shrill voice cut through the soft chatter of the cafe.

“Kitten?” the voice said. “It is you! It’s my favorite kitten.”

You turned to see Yoongi drop the tray of dishes he’d been clearing, eyes wide as he looked at the woman who had spoken. She looked about thirty, though judging by the stiffness of her features that could be off by ten years or so. She had bleached blonde hair and unreal proportions. She towered over Yoongi in her heeled boots, and he backed away, bumping into the table as she stepped toward him.

“Where have you been?” she asked, completely ignoring his discomfort. “I’ve missed you! The club just isn’t the same without you. I asked and your masters said you must’ve gotten lost. They looked everywhere for you.”

You stepped out from behind the counter and headed toward them as the woman grabbed the tie of Yoongi’s apron and pulled him to her, grabbing his chin in her fingers and holding his face inches from hers.

“How could you leave me? I know I was your favorite customer,” she smirked, an almost predatory glint in her eyes. He refused to meet her eyes, trying to pull away. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but she tightened her grip on his face, making him wince and shut his mouth. 

You pushed a chair aside with a loud screech as you reached them. Your body moved before you could think, one hand clasping Yoongi’s white the other grabbed the woman’s hand in a vice-like grip. You pushed her away with more force than entirely necessary.

“Is there a problem?” you asked, glaring icy daggers at the woman. Yoongi kept his eyes on the ground. His whole body shook and his grip on your hand bordered on painful. You stepped in front of him protectively and turned to face the woman again. She had stumbled back a few steps, unsteady in her impractical shoes.

“What’s your problem b****?” she snapped. She looked from you to Yoongi, a wicked sneer spreading on her lips. “Ah, I see. You found a new girl to whore yourself out to? She must be desperate to settle for damaged goods. I pitied you, kitten. It’s only a matter of time unt-”

You were already walking away, noting with disgust that none of your customers had stepped in to help. Instead, they all avoided looking at you or Yoongi as you slipped back behind the counter and headed to the kitchen.

“Call the police,” you said flatly to Jungkook, who had been watching with an expression not unlike a bunny in headlights. He nodded, phone already in his hand. “Tell them we have CCTV footage and we’d like to press charges.”

You heard the woman splutter behind you, barking profanity before her footsteps retreated to the door. You heard the bell chime as she exited but you continued back through the kitchen and into the apartment. As soon as the door fell shut you turned to Yoongi, his hand still clutched tightly in yours. His eyes were still on the floor, staring into nothing. You guided him gently to sit on the couch. He refused to release your hand so you awkwardly used your free one to pull his favorite blanket around his shoulders.

“Yoon?” you started softly. “Sweetheart?” You gave his hands a gentle squeeze. His eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“She- she- I was-” His eyes darted between yours, panic finally surfacing through the shock. “They’ll take me back,” he said, breaths coming too quickly as his body shook harder.

“No. No they won’t,” you said firmly. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promised you I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you again and I meant it.”

He didn’t seem to hear you, so you placed a gentle hand on his cheek. He flinched away at first, but you waited until he looked at you before repeating yourself.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Yoongi. You’re safe with me.” Tears slipped down his cheeks, mirroring the ones that already fell on yours. He still gasped for air, and you recognized a panic attack when you saw one. Jungkook had them frequently when he first came to you and Namjoon.

“Sweetheart, I need you to slow your breathing down. Can you breathe with me?” He looked at you with wide-eyes, struggling to draw a normal breath. You took a deep breath yourself, loud enough for him to hear. He squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to follow your slow inhale. You held the breath for a moment before releasing it, repeating the process for several minutes until he was able to follow. Tears continued to fall down his face, and he was still shaking.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” you praised, wiping the tears from his face. “What can I do? How can I help?”

He paused, seeming to hesitate as he drew another shaky breath. Then he moved forward, thin arms wrapping around your waist as he buried his face in your neck. You immediately wrapped him in your arms, petting his hair gently, continuing to take deep breaths as he kept following. After a while you felt his breaths even out, thinking maybe he fell asleep. Doing your best not to jostle him, you pulled out your phone. It had been almost an hour, and you quickly texted Jungkook.

You sighed, the last thing you needed was an overbearing little brother getting Yoongi worked up again. You switched to your conversation with Namjoon.

You turned to Yoongi, knowing you had to let him know Namjoon was on his way. The last thing he needed was an unexpected guest.

“Yoon? You awake?” He nodded against your shoulder, not pulling away yet. “My brother, Namjoon, is coming over to check on us,” you said softly. You felt him tense. “He just wants to make sure we’re okay,” you tried to reassure him. “He’s bringing us dinner. Maybe we can watch a movie?”

Yoongi pulled away from you and your heart broke again when you saw his puffy eyes, red from crying. He took a hiccuping breath, then nodded.

“Okay.” He seemed to ponder for a moment. “Is he mad?”

“What do you mean? At us?” you asked.

“At me,” he clarified.

You frowned. “Why would he be mad at you?”

“It’s my fault. Her making a scene and yelling. She could’ve hurt you. And it would’ve been my fault,” he said. You pulled him back into your arms, holding him tightly.

“Yoongi, listen to me. Nothing that’s happened has been your fault. You did nothing to deserve that kind of treatment. And everything that awful witch said was a lie. You are wonderful.” You punctuated the statement with a gentle squeeze before pulling away from him. He nodded, wiping at his face with a sleeve.

“Let’s get cleaned up a bit, why don’t you change out of your work clothes? Joon will be here soon,” you said, standing and heading to the bathroom. You washed your face and changed into some sweats. Yoongi went after you grabbing a fluffy sweater to change into. Just as the bedroom door closed behind him you heard a knock at your door. Namjoon stood on the step with a bag of food and two six-packs of beer.

“Chimaek!” he announced proudly. You smiled tiredly and let him in. He set the food on the kitchen counter and you immediately grabbed a beer and popped it open.

“That bad?” Namjoon asked, grimacing. You only grunted in response. “The police really won’t do anything?”

“If I ever see that b**** again, I’ll kill her myself. Then the police will get involved,” you growled.

“Not if I help you hide the body,” Namjoon said, opening a can of beer himself. You gave him a small smile and clinked your cans together.

Yoongi emerged from the bedroom then, bundled in his baggy grey sweats and a yellow sweater that gave him perfect sweater paws. You waved him over, pulling out a beer for him.

“I don’t think you two really met, did you?” you asked, not waiting for a response. “This is my little brother, Namjoon. Joonie, this is Yoongi.”

Yoongi bowed politely, and Namjoon glanced at you as he bowed back. “Nice to meet you. Jungkook wouldn’t shut up about you when he got home last night. Sounds like you’re gunning for my spot as favorite hyung!” he said playfully.

“Of course not,” Yoongi said meekly.

“I’m kidding, hyung,” Namjoon said, laughing awkwardly. Yoongi looked up sharply at the respectful tone. That made two humans in one day speaking politely to him? What the hell was with these people?

“S***, is that too friendly? I just feel like you’re already family. Yeoji-noona mentioned you coming into the shop a bunch, so it’s like I know you,” Namjoon rambled. You shot him a look, but the words were already said.

“You mentioned me?” Yoongi asked, genuinely surprised, but happy.

“Yeah,” you said, a little shy at being called out. “I’d always hoped we could be friends, or something. And then with everything, I ended up getting to know you better.”

Yoongi smiled then, for the first time since the incident. His eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Namjoon watched the exchange with interest, letting the moment hang for a moment before interrupting it.

“Let’s eat! The chicken will get cold,” he said. 

“Chicken?” Yoongi said, excitement obvious in his voice, eyes sparkling with something very recognizable this time. Namjoon grinned, picking up the food and moving to the living room. You picked a movie and settled onto the floor so you could eat at the coffee table. 

By the time every bone was picked clean, Namjoon was on his third beer. You and Yoongi and you had finished off five each. To be fair, it had been a long day. You had all migrated onto the couch, Namjoon on one end, you in the middle, Yoongi on the other. As you watched the movie Yoongi naturally curled himself into you, head resting on your lap. You mindlessly played with his hair and he was out in minutes. Namjoon watched you, a smirk playing on his lips as he heard the purr rumble from Yoongi’s chest. When the movie ended, he shook you gently.

“Noona, you guys should get to bed. Your back will hurt,” he said. 

You nodded drowsily, waking Yoongi and pulling him to his feet. You dragged him along, shuffling into your room and tucking a barely-conscious Yoongi into bed. You returned to see off Namjoon, who was putting on his jacket.

“Don’t drive!” you said, ever the protective older sister despite being a little drunk and very drowsy.

“I called a cab.” He chuckled, patting your head. You scowled and brushed his hand away, then wrapped him in a hug.

“Thank you for coming, Joon,” you mumbled against his chest.

“Of course,” he answered, planting a kiss in your hair before pulling away. “Go to sleep, I’ll lock the door on my way out.”

He waved you off and you crept back into your bedroom, flopping into bed and curling up against the warm figure that was already softly snoring away.

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 14 - In The Morning

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

Hermione arrives at Grimmauld Place 

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

I update every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST) (except that one time)!

Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<<Chapter 13

I can't stop myself from calling calling out your name I can't stop myself from falling falling back again

 July 17th came around sooner than Fred was truly ready for and before he knew it, his father and Ron were leaving Grimmauld Place to meet Hermione and her parents in Diagon Alley. They had extended the invitation to George and himself as well, but the two of them opted to stay behind to help Ginny get things ready for her arrival. Or at least that’s what George told their mum and dad. Instead, they planned to use that time to work on welcoming Hermione back the only way they knew how.

“Okay, we’ve got – fake wand, spitting teapot, nose-biting tea cup, Ton-Tongue Toffee, Canary Creams, those Nosebleed Nougats we’ve been working on, aaaaand then of course we can always just turn her scarf into a snake or something,” listed George, looking down critically at the products in his trunk.

“You’re overthinking it, mate,” said Fred, chewing on the side of his thumb as he shuffled through his work notes on the desk.

“Well then, please enlighten me Freddie,” George huffed, placing his hands on his hips and turning to his twin.

“We can just apparate downstairs as soon as she gets here and scare her. She’ll never see it coming.” It was true. While Fred and George had passed their apparition tests first try the previous spring, Hermione had not been around enough to see them practice.

“What? A jump scare? That seems a bit cheap, don’t you think?”

“Since when have you cared how we pull pranks?” laughed Fred. “You’ve never been particularly choosy before.” With satisfaction, Fred finally found the piece of parchment he’d been searching for and pulled it to the top of his pile of notes. It was his ingredient list for Fever Fudge. He and George had spent the entirety of their free time so far that summer developing a themed line for their business and Fred felt like they finally had it. Now they just needed to make the products. And they needed Hermione’s help. Hermione. The familiar twisting and churning in his stomach returned every time he thought of her. What was it about the little witch that made him so bloody nervous? His palms sweat, his neck got hot, and his stomach ached whenever her soon to be visit was brought to the forefront of his mind that week. It was ridiculous. It was only Hermione after all. Even if he did fancy her at one point, that was off the table now. He was with Angelina and she still fancied his brother. The only thing to do was to get back to normal, go back to the way things were before he found himself lusting after his baby brother’s friend, go back to when they were simply just friends.

“I suppose we could do it when she’s standing next to Walburga. That’ll certainly give her a fright,” mused George, closing his trunk with a heavy thump of the lid.

“Now you’re getting it, Georgie boy!” Fred stacked the parchment and moved around quills and ink bottles, doing his best to tidy up the small workspace. Hermione was sure to make a comment on their messiness the minute she saw it. She always did.

“You seem in better spirits—” George leaned casually against the wall near the open window and looked at Fred with an annoyingly knowing smirk “—Hermione’s visit wouldn’t have anything to do with that. Would it?”

Fred scoffed. “It has everything to do with her visit, Georgie. We need a pair of fresh eyes to go over these product designs and it’ll be someone else to talk to in this depressing place besides you.”

George opened his mouth, clearly ready to refute Fred’s statement when a large tawny owl soared through the open window and landed on the bottom left-hand corner of the desk. The owl had a stately, professional manner, akin to the owls used at Hogwarts. Taking the letter from its claws, Fred gave the owl a small treat and watched as it spread its wings and soared back out through the open window. He turned the envelope over in his hands and saw that it was addressed to him. The words were in a neat scrawl he recognized immediately, and so he tore into the envelope with enthusiasm.

Dear Fred,

I’m so sorry I haven’t written to you. Quidditch camp has kept me really busy. They have us running so many drills, I barely have the energy to eat at the end of the day. But, as I’m the new Gryffindor quidditch team captain (remember don’t tell anyone, it’s still a secret), it’s important that I know everything there is to know. I hope your summer is going well, though!

I will try to write more later, but I wanted to send you a quick note to let you know I’ve gotten your letters.

Yours,

Angelina

P.S. – You won’t believe who’s an instructor here. Oliver Wood! Can you believe it?

Fred threw the letter down onto the desk with a sigh. She clearly hadn’t read his letters. If she had, then she would have known that his summer was not going well. Feeling close enough with Angelina and taking the fact that she was his girlfriend into consideration, he’d shared with her his lamentings of his overbearing mother and the general stodginess of the home they were currently staying in. He hoped to get a tad bit of sympathy or maybe even acknowledgement. But instead, he got a few short lines and news on Oliver Wood. He smirked at the last bit. At least he could be certain that Oliver Wood was there to torture her with his insane quidditch practices and long-winded speeches on hard work and diligence.

“Who’s it from?” asked George.

“Angelina,” answered Fred, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his head as he stared at the discarded letter on the desk in front of him.

“What’s it say?”

The sound of the front door opening downstairs caught the pair’s attention and Fred stood, grabbing the letter, and tucking it into his pocket. “Don’t worry about it. Hermione’s here. Let’s go,” he said pointing to the door with a tilt of his head.

Sneaking down the hallway, they leaned over the banister and spied the top of Hermione’s frizzy head. They watched as she walked slowly down the entry hall, looking side to side as she took in the ominous visage of the ancient Black home. She was almost to the end of the hallway where it split into three separate directions when Fred looked to his brother and with a nod, and apparated. Fred felt the familiar pull at his navel and the thrilling sensation of the air being sucked from the space around him before he landed effortlessly beside Hermione. Half of a second later George appeared at her other side.

“Wotcher Granger!” they exclaimed in unison, immediately dissolving into laughter when Hermione jumped with fright. The poor little witch let out a startled yelp, falling back into the covered portrait of Sirius Black’s mother Walburga.

Upon being woken up the nasty woman began to spit her usual vitriol, “Filth! Mudbloods! Blood traitors! In my home! The disgrace! Out! Out!”

“Fred! George! How many times have I told you to leave that portrait be?!” screamed their mother, appearing in the kitchen doorway to their right.

“Wasn’t us mum!” yelled Fred in their defense, still trying to stifle his laughter.

“Yeah mum, Hermione’s the one that screamed and pulled the sheet down!” agreed George, slinging an arm over the shoulders of Hermione who currently looked incredibly displeased.

“Right, well I wonder why that was—” their mother scowled “—get! All of you, out of here while I fix this. Ron, help me, will you dear?”

Ron, who’d been leading Hermione down the hallway stepped forward and grabbed the sheet with their mum. Meanwhile, Fred and George followed their mother’s instructions and led Hermione into the kitchen.

“You two are biggest prats!” scolded Hermione, setting her bag down on the kitchen table.

“Maybe, but you still love us,” said George cheekily before pulling her into a tight hug. Hermione smiled, her irritation visibly melting away as she hugged George back. Once his twin brother had released her, Hermione turned to Fred, both of them fully intending to hug as well. But then they stopped, both jerking forward awkwardly before settling on a very stiff and uncomfortable handshake.

“Frederick,” she greeted him politely.

Fred cleared his throat before answer, “Granger.” They continued to shake hands, their arms sticking out in front of them for much too long as they stared at each other, unsure of what to say. “You’ve gotten taller,” Fred finally remarked, noticing the way she no longer came to his shoulder, but instead reached just past his chin. He released her hand lamely and brought it up to scratch the back of his head.

“Yes, well, it appears I’ve been through a bit of a growth spurt the last month or so,” she answered, before reaching for the clasp at her neck and divesting herself of her light travel robes. Growth spurt was right, thought Fred as he stared unabashedly at Hermione. Not only had she gotten taller, but her once lanky body had given way to a very womanly form. He exchanged a quick look with George, whose flabbergasted expression clearly stated that he too was witnessing the same phenomenon. Hermione Granger had gotten hot. Very hot. Swallowing thickly, Fred wanted nothing more than to burst into flames literally and figuratively. Being dead, he reasoned, would be better than dealing with the hot fresh hell of Hermione Granger surely coming into her own body the moment he had decided his attraction to her was off the table. Almost mockingly, the corner of the envelope that held Angelina’s letter poked into his thigh.

“Is that a new sweater, ‘Mione?” asked George. Fred shot a glare in George’s direction. While his question appeared to be innocent, Fred knew it was an obvious jab at the fact that not only was Hermione not wearing something three times her size, but the sweater in question outlined her new curves so perfectly that Fred had to consciously keep his eyes trained on her face.

“Oh—” Hermione looked down at her outfit “—yes. My mum insisted we go shopping before I left. Got me a whole new wardrobe and everything. Something about putting me in better spirits or something.”

“Why would you need to be in better—”

“My, my, my, well if it isn’t Hermione Granger,” the voice of Sirius Black cut Fred’s question off. He watched as Hermione turned excitedly and spotted the older wizard leaning against the doorframe that led into the dining room. The witch crossed the room enthusiastically, allowing Sirius to envelope her in a tight hug.

“Sirius! It’s so good to see you!” exclaimed Hermione, letting out a small squeak when Sirius lifted her into the air.

“Same to you,” he said with an exaggerated groan before setting her back on her feet and holding her at arm’s length. “Look at you! Is this really the same mousy little girl that saved my life two years ago?” asked Sirius teasingly before leading her to the kitchen table.

“Hold on a minute. We haven’t heard that story,” said George. The comment caught Fred’s attention as well. While the two had been informed by both Ron after his third year and their mum and dad that summer that Sirius Black was not the man they thought him to be, they had never heard exactly how he officially escaped his capture.

“Really? She only traveled back in time and road on the back of a hippogriff to break me out of my cell,” said Sirius, looking down proudly at a flushing Hermione. “Would you like some tea dear?” he asked Hermione.

“We’ll get it,” said George, pulling a stunned Fred around and towards the counter. “Well that’s interesting.”

“Which part?” asked Fred, reeling from the combination of Hermione’s figure, and finding out that she traveled through time?

George chuckled at his comment and the pair began to make a nice afternoon tea. Merlin, being able to use magic whenever he wanted was so convenient, thought Fred as with just a few flicks of their wands, the tea was prepared, and a nice plate of biscuits was ready. Levitating the cups, teapot, sugar, milk, and biscuits to the table, they took their seats at the table as well.

“Now, tell us all the sordid details of this breakout and don’t hold anything back,” said George firmly, reaching across the table and grabbing a biscuit.

Fred listened intently as Sirius began his story, grabbing a cup and preparing Hermione’s tea. She seemed surprised when he set the cup in front of her and even more surprised when she took a sip. The younger witch shot him a curious glance before taking another sip and grabbing a biscuit as well. What? Did she not think he remembered how she took her tea? wondered Fred before making his own.

By the end of his story, Sirius was smiling widely, Hermione was blushing furiously, and Fred and George were staring blankly. Ron, who had joined them halfway through, looked bored having already heard the story before from Harry and Hermione.

“Blimey,” said Fred, unsure of what else even to say. “Do you ever stop getting cooler, Hermione?” Fred’s ears grew hot in embarrassment, but the small smile Hermione gave him cooled the heat slightly.

“I’ve always been cool, Fred. Maybe you’ve just been too thick to notice.”

Fred gave a small chuckle, joined by the rest of the table. Just like that, the heavy weight of tension that had been present between him and Hermione since the moment she arrived lifted slightly.

“So, is anyone going to explain to me where I am exactly and what’s going on, or am I supposed to guess it at some point?” asked Hermione, looking around her with an exasperated look.

“I’m sorry kitten, I thought Arthur told you,” said Sirius.

Fred prickled. He didn’t quite like the way Sirius called her ‘kitten’.

“This—” Sirius motioned to the space around them “—is my childhood home. Left to me as the last living heir to the Black fortune. I volunteered it to Dumbledore for the Order.”

“The Order?” Hermione scrunched her brow in confusion.

“The Order of the Phoenix,” Ron chimed in, as if the name alone would be explanation enough.

“We’re like Death Eaters, but for the good side,” added George with a grin.

“Not yet you aren’t!” exclaimed their mum, striding into the kitchen with a scowl on her face.

Fred huffed in annoyance. He and George had been keen to join the Order ever since they learned about it, but their mum was adamantly against it. “Come on mum, we’re seventeen! It’s not your choice anymore.”

“Like hell it isn’t. You watch your tone with me Frederick Weasley. As long as you live under my roof, you do as I say. Is that clear?”

Fred and George rolled their eyes, turning back towards the table.

“There’s an Order meeting tonight Hermione,” said George. 

“You can learn all about it after. Most of the members usually stay for dinner,” added Fred. 

“In the meantime, don’t you want to check out your room?” George stressed the question, widening his eyes and tilting his head towards the door leading to the entry hall.

“Do I?—” Hermione gave them a confused look before her eyebrows lifted in realization “—I mean, yes, of course.” She stood from the table, moving to follow Fred and George out of the kitchen before stopping at the door and turning back to the table. “It was so lovely to see you again Sirius. Shall we catch up more later?”

“Absolutely kitten. Have fun…checking out your room.”

Fred grabbed Hermione around the upper arm, pulling her from the kitchen and back into the now silent entry hall. The portrait of Walburga Black was once again covered by the old sheet, but he watched as Hermione still gave it a wide birth. “Hold tight,” he said to the witch in his grasp before apparating them both up to his and George’s bedroom.

Hermione landed next to him, gripping the front of Fred’s shirt tightly in her fist as she doubled over, breathing heavily.

“Alright ‘Mione?” asked Fred, trying not to focus on the way she held onto him.

“You absolute BERK!” She released his shirt, reeling back to slap him across the chest. It stung a bit, but Fred laughed all the same, figuring he deserved it. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to apparate someone without telling them first?! It’s incredibly—oh god, I think I may be sick.”

“Come now, Hermione. That doesn’t sound like someone who time traveled and helped a convicted felon escape from authorities,” said George, walking past the two of them to open their trunks and begin pulling out products.

“Where did you even get a time-turner in the first place? Aren’t they regulated by the ministry?” asked Fred, walking over to gather his notes for Hermione.

“Professor McGonagall got it for me. She had to write a lot of letters to the ministry about how I was an exemplary student and wouldn’t use it irresponsibly. I signed up for every class, you see, and so the only way to take all of them was to use the time-turner.” Hermione had now straightened up. She looked a little less green as she walked towards them and peered down at products spread out across the bed.

Fred laughed. “If that isn’t the swottiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Watch it,” Hermione warned casually as she picked up a pair of extendable ears with equal fascination and revulsion. To be fair, the accurate imitation of flesh was a bit much, but that’s what Fred and George loved most about them.

“Speaking of swottiness—” George gave Fred an impish smirk before leaping forward and grabbing the large stack of parchment from Fred “—Fred made you this. It’s all our product designs, some of them old, some of them new, some of them not yet tested.”

“No notebook?” Hermione asked, exchanging for Extendable Ears for the stack of parchment, and looking at Fred with a teasing smile.

“Now, why would I give you my notebook? No, these are your copies,” admitted Fred, looking intently at Hermione’s face as she sorted through the pile.

“You made me copies. I’ve never known you to be so…fastidious Fred. Wow, you two really have been busy,” said Hermione in amazement as she continued to sift through the large pile of parchment.

“Yes, well, that’s about seven months of missed inventing time, Miss Granger. A lot happens when you’re not going about snogging professional quidditch players,” stated George.

“I was not going about snogging Viktor!” cried Hermione in indignation, turning the color of a ripe tomato.

“You weren’t?” Fred found himself asking, before he could stop himself.

Hermione looked back to him shyly, running her hands over her hair to flatten it down. Fred kept his eyes trained on the girl’s face, fighting very hard to not let them drift down to view the magnificent way her sweater stretched when she lifted her arms. “I mean…” Hermione drifted off, earning a wolf whistle from George who she promptly sent a scathing glare at.

Fred felt the all too familiar sinking feeling in his stomach return, but this time mixed with the overwhelming urge to take Hermione in his arms and kiss her till all thoughts of Viktor Krum were gone from her memory. He looked away from her, distracting himself with the products on the bed as he tried to process his reaction. It wasn’t his place to be jealous. Hermione was a free and single girl – she was more than welcome to snog whoever she wanted – and he had a girlfriend. He shouldn’t be jealous. He really shouldn’t be jealous. But he was.

A knock on their door pulled the three’s attention. The door opened to reveal Ron looking mildly annoyed.

“This isn’t your room ‘Mione. Yours is down the hall,” he said, crossing his arms and looking suspiciously at Fred and George.

“Hermione—” Ginny’s voice sounded from behind Ron “—come on! We’re sharing a room. I’ve got your bed all made up and everything.”

“Oh right. Fred and George were just showing me their summer homework,” Hermione replied, holding up the stack of notes in her hands.

Ron gave an obnoxious snort. “Sure. Come on, then. Before Ginny has a conniption.”

“Coming—” Hermione turned back to Fred and George “—I’ll have a look at these tonight.”

She turned, following Ron out of the room, and shutting the door behind her. It was silent in their room for a few moments as Fred stood staring at the place Hermione had just been.

“Merlin, did you see the baps on her!” George cried, sounding relieved to finally be alone just the two of them.

Fred couldn’t help but laugh against his better judgement, body shaking with chuckles as he turned to his twin who stared back at him with wide eyes.

“Come on now mate. It’s Hermione. Have some respect,” said Fred, flopping onto his bed and propping himself up against the headboard.

“Believe me, I have nothing but respect for them—” George followed his lead, lying down on his bed as well “—and in case you’ve forgotten, I’m a single bloke. I’m allowed to look. Couldn’t help but notice you paying your respects earlier. What’s your excuse?”

“I suppose I was rather surprised is all. She was fit before—”

“Was she?” George questioned, giving Fred a cheeky grin.

“I mean—” Fred stuttered over his words “—yeah, a bit.”

“But now she’s more your type?”

“I’m not answering that.” Fred rolled over on his side, facing away from his twin.

“Oh, come on Freddie. I’m a simple question.”

“No, it isn’t. Not when you’re leading me on – trying to weasel a specific answer out of me,” accused Fred. The whole conversation was like watching two trains headed towards each other on the same track. He could see the inevitable ending from a mile away but could still do nothing to stop it.

“Me? Weasel? Never. I’m just curious as to whether Hermione’s new shapely form has you wishing you’d asked her to the ball, instead of Angelina. That’s—”

“George, stop it.”

“—all. I’m sure now that she’s all filled out, she’d make a more than suitable girlfriend. The tits and ass would surely make up for her annoying bookish—”

“Oi! You’re my brother but say shit like that again and I’ll give the thrashing you deserve. You hear me?—” Fred turned over, glaring daggers at his brother in the bed beside him “—‘Mione’s got more to offer than just her body and in case you haven’t noticed, you benefit quite a lot from her annoying bookish personality. So just shut it.” He marked his words with a final sneer before turning back over and facing the door.

“Hmm, you’re right brother. My apologies.”

Fred didn’t need to see the smug expression on George’s face to know that he’d played right into his twin’s hands. He shouldn’t have let George’s goading get to him. He should have known that George was only saying those things to get him to slip up and admit something. George liked to play on Fred’s short temper. Always did. Staring hard at the dull dark wood grain of the bedroom door and the ornate trim that surrounded it, he wished more than anything he was in the comfort of their brightly colored bedroom back at the Burrow. At least there he could storm out, take his broom, and fly until he cooled down. But here, in the dingy, dark, confines of Grimmauld Place, he was trapped with his annoyingly perceptive twin one side of the door, and Hermione Granger on the other.

    Hermione took in the sight of her shared bedroom in Grimmauld Place with perplexed curiosity. The ancestral Black home was unlike any other wizarding home she’d ever seen. Albeit she’d only ever been in one wizarding home before – the Burrow – and that, she was told, wasn’t necessarily “normal” as far as wizarding homes went. But still, the rich, dark atmosphere of Grimmauld Place and the things that inhabited it spoke depths on the history, ideals, and opulence of the Black family. She ran her fingers along the intricate carvings on the sleigh that was now temporarily hers.

“So, this is yours and my room! I made sure to get a bedspread you’d like and did my best to clean up. You wouldn’t believe the amount we spend cleaning these days, and the place still looks dirty all the time!” Ginny threw her hands up into the air in exasperation, walking over to her side of the room and kicking a dirty jumper into the corner.

“How long have you been here?” asked Hermione, sitting down on her trunk, which had already been placed at the foot of her bed.

“Pretty much since the day summer started. It’s been a real drag. I hoped to do a bit of flying this summer, you know, play a bit of quidditch. But this place only has a small garden and because we’re in the middle of muggle England, we can’t go too far in case we’re seen. I’m so glad you’re here now though, it’s nice to have another girl around besides mum, and Tonks on the occasion,” said Ginny, collapsing onto her bed and pulling a licorice wand out of her pocket. She took a large bite off the end of it and chewed it aggressively.

“Who’s Tonks?”

Ginny gasped dramatically, sitting up and turning over to face Hermione on her stomach. “She’s an Order member – auror for the ministry. She’s so cool. She’s a metamorphmagus so she can change her appearance to whatever she wants and she’s young so she’s always turning her hair purple or blue. Plus, she listens to the coolest music and wears the coolest clothes.”

“Sounds…cool,” said Hermione, flatly, brain still hazy from her interactions with Fred earlier. She certainly never expected to spend so much time with him from the moment she walked through the front door. Seeing and speaking with Sirius had been a nice distraction, but there was still how Fred made her tea perfectly and the way he quite literally pulled her from the room. To top it all off, he presented her with an itemized list of his invention notes. Was he purposefully trying to drive her crazy? He must be, she thought in exasperation, considering he looked even more handsome now than the last time she’d seen him. While his long hair was gone, she found the new professional cut to be even more handsome, despite her preferences. Then of course, there was the ridiculously sexy way in which his t-shirt hung on his biceps. Merlin help her, maybe she should have just gone to France with her parents.

“Hermione!” Ginny’s voice brought Hermione out of her mental fog. Looking up, she found Ginny giving her a curious look.

“What’s got you all lost in thought?” Ginny asked mischievously. “Is it a boy?”

“Why would you possibly think it’s a boy, Ginevra?” scoffed Hermione in indignation.

“Because you had this big dopey look on your face like you were fantasizing about Professor Lockhart in second year.”

“I did not!” Hermione picked up a pillow and threw it at Ginny who artfully dodged it.

“Yes, you did! Now, who could it be…not Viktor surely, since you dumped him royally at the end of the year.” She tapped the end of her chin in thought.

“I did not dump him. We parted ways amicably.”

“Okay, okay, whatever you say. Do I know the person?”

Hermione nodded weakly, unsure as to why she was playing along.

“Neville?”

Hermione shook her head no.

“Harry? It’s alright if you do, seeing as I’m going with Corner now.”

Hermione shook her head again, this time more aggressively.

Ginny gasped, “It’s not one of my brothers, is it?”

Hermione hesitated for a second too long, resulting in a gleeful exclamation from Ginny.

“Well let’s see. It’s not Bill or Charlie since you’ve only met them once, it can’t be Percy because you do have some taste, Fred’s currently halfway up Angelina’s arse, so that just leaves George and Ron!” Ginny smiled widely, clearly pleased with herself.

“I—” Hermione began but was cut off swiftly by Ginny.

“It’s Ron, isn’t it? I knew it! You know, I’m pretty sure he’s keen on you as well. Wouldn’t shut up about how you should be here while we were clearing the pixies out of the parlor.”

“He wouldn’t?” asked Hermione, caught off guard by Ginny’s offhand comment.

“Oh yeah. I think that’s why mum finally sent you the letter – to shut him up,” said Ginny, taking another bite from her licorice wand.

Hermione bit the inside of her lips and tried to come to terms with the fact that Ron might actually like her now. When had that happened and why hadn’t it been before she’d developed the biggest crush on one of his older brothers instead?

“I could help get you guys together, if you want.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione looked up at Ginny is surprise.

“You and Ron, while you’re here I could be like your wingman or something,” Ginny explained further.

“No, I understood what you said. Absolutely not Ginevra. You will not be doing that.”

Ginny held her hands up in surrender. “Alright, suit yourself. No need to pop your top,” said Ginny, tossing the last of the licorice wand in her mouth and standing from her bed. “I’m going to see if there are any leftover biscuits from tea. I’m assuming you’ll want some too?”

Hermione smiled widely at the ginger haired girl, answering enthusiastically, “Yes please. You’re super cool.”

Ginny exited the room, holding up a middle finger at Hermione’s teasing.

Hermione chuckled lightly to herself, standing and opening her trunk. She began to unpack, realizing it was best to get a clear and organized environment if she were to be there for the remainder of the summer. She started with her clothes – taking each piece out carefully and placing them either in the free drawers of the room’s dresser or in the wardrobe next to Ginny’s few blouses and dresses. Her new clothes, while very pretty, were definitely out of her comfort zone. Her usual clothes were so large and relaxed that she practically swam in them and she liked it that way. They were comfortable. But her mother insisted that she was becoming an adult now and so she needed clothes that actually fit her. She was able to save a few of the pieces from her old wardrobe, like her favorite sweatpants, favorite striped sweater, and of course, Fred’s cardigan. But the rest had been sacrificed and replaced by the fitted, tailored pieces her mother picked out for her.

Picking up Fred’s cardigan from the bottom of her neatly packed clothes, she brought it to her face and marveled in the fact that it had somehow kept his scent. It shouldn’t still, after all those months, but it did. Feeling a chill run down her spine, Hermione glanced out the window and noticed the sky had turned a dark grey and the trees on the street leaned heavily in the wind. Great – a summer cold front followed by a storm. England sure did have fantastic weather, thought Hermione sarcastically. Without even thinking, she slipped her arms into the cardigan and wrapped it tightly around herself before returning to her unpacking. Ginny reappeared a short while later, bringing a plate piled high with an assortment of biscuits, and what looked to be two pumpkin pasties. Hermione grabbed a pasty, nibbling on it as she organized her books on the spare table in the corner. She finished her unpacking and was chatting idly with Ginny about Michael Corner when Ron knocked and entered.

“Well, it must be serious, Gin, if Dumbledore is getting the Order back together,” said Ron, shoving a biscuit into his mouth.

“Of course, it’s serious, Ron, You-Know-Who is back. Harry said so himself and he’d have no reason to lie about it,” said Ginny.

“I wish the rest of the ministry agreed with you on that. Have you seen the vile things they’ve been saying about Harry and Dumbledore in the Prophet, Hermione?” asked Ron.

Hermione sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, yes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say You-Know-Who already had his fingers buried deep in the ministry and the prophet, but I don’t know how true that is,” she said, crumbling a biscuit in her hand.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Ginny curiously.

“Well, it’s quite clever what they’re doing. Isn’t it? Instead of coming right out and saying that Harry and Dumbledore are lying, they’re giving the readers subtle reasons as to why they should believe them to not be credible. A small jab here, a snide remark there. Throw in a few jokes and next thing you know, everyone’s laughing at dramatic, fame-seeking Harry Potter and his crazy aging mental mentor Albus Dumbledore.” The cookie was officially powder in her hands as she finished her theory. It had been circulating in her brain since the first time she’d seen signs of turning in the Prophet. It was another reason she felt so on edge these days.

“Dad says it’s Fudge. Says he doesn’t want to accept that You-Know-Who is back,” sneered Ron. He rolled his eyes and rubbed at the freckles on the side of his nose. Hermione stared at the spattering of brown for a moment, trying to find the same thrill in them as she did Fred’s, but only came back with disappointment.

“Fudge is an idiot. Everyone knows that,” spat Ginny, rolling her eyes as well.

“Who’s an idiot?” a voice popped in, the door opening slightly. George’s head came into view, peaking into the room from the neck up.

“Surely not us,” said Fred, his head popping up now too, just below George’s.

“Don’t rule yourself out so quickly,” said Hermione, sharing an impish smile with Ginny.

“Can you believe the cheek on this one?” asked George, striding fully into the room, followed closely by Fred.

“We just came to say order members started arriving five minutes ago,” said Fred, eyes flick back and forth from the hallway through the door and Hermione’s torso. Glancing down, Hermione saw his cardigan and wondered if he might finally want it back now. Was it inappropriate to wear another girl’s boyfriend’s cardigan?

“What?!” Ginny leapt to her feet, nearly knocking the plate of biscuits onto the ground. Luckily, Ron caught them before they could slip off the bed.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Ron, standing as well, and placing the plate of biscuits onto the table before darting out of the room behind Ginny.

“I feel like I’m missing something here,” said Hermione, looking between Fred and George.

“We’re not allowed to attend the meetings, you see—” explained Fred.

“—so, we have to take what we can get from watching members arrive and listening to their conversations as they walk into the kitchen,” continued George.

“We usually watch from the top of the stairs and sometimes mum forgets to cast a silencing spell and we can use the Extendable Ears to listen in on what they’re saying.” Fred pulled a bundle of fleshy string connected to two life-like ears from his pocket and waved it in her face.

Hermione scrunched her nose, remembering the disgusting items from earlier that afternoon. Exiting her bedroom, she took a seat on the ground near the railing at the end of the hall. The spot looked perfectly over the stairs and the entry hall that she had walked through earlier. Silently they watched as a string of wizards and witches entered Grimmauld Place – some Hermione recognized and some she did not.

“Blimey, it’s Dumbledore,” said Ron.

Hermione turned her attention away from a vibrantly pink-haired woman, who she assumed was Tonks, to the door where, sure enough, Dumbledore stood. “Why is that a surprise? Isn’t he the founder of the Order?” she asked.

“Well he doesn’t show up to a lot of these meetings. He’s a busy man, Dumbledore. Only pops in when he has something really important to share,” said George, looking down at the silver-haired headmaster in contemplation.

“Albus, we weren’t expected you—” Mrs. Weasley greeted the elder wizard in surprise “—will you be staying for dinner?”

“Not tonight, I’m afraid Molly. No, I heard you’ve invited Miss Granger here for the rest of the summer. Is that correct?”

Ron, Ginny, and the twins turned their heads to stare at Hermione curiously. Hermione shrugged, just as surprised as they were to hear their headmaster speak of her.

“Yes, yes. She arrived this afternoon. I hope that was alright. I know Ron really wanted a friend here with him and Harry might—”

“It’s okay Molly. You’ve done nothing wrong. I was actually just hoping to speak with her and Ronald before the meeting began. If that’s alright?”

Hermione and Ron looked at each other for a moment. She wasn’t sure if Ron had come to same conclusion as her, but Hermione was almost one hundred percent positive that if Professor Dumbledore wanted to speak to them both, then it was probably about Harry.

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Weasley answered sweetly, before titled her head up and calling out to Ron and Hermione.

“What do they want with you two?” asked Fred, frowning slightly.

“Can’t be too certain, but it’s most likely about Harry,” said Ron with a shrug of his shoulders.

“It always is,” replied Fred and George in unison.

Ron and Hermione made their way down the stairs slowly, until finally they were standing in front of their headmaster. No matter how many times she spoke with the man, Hermione always found him incredibly intimidating. It never lessened.

“Ah! Miss Granger. Mr. Weasley,” Professor Dumbledore greeted them politely.

“Professor,” Hermione greeted him with a small nod.

“I was hoping I could have a quick word with the two of you. Perhaps, in the parlor?” Professor Dumbledore turned to Mrs. Weasley with questioning eyes.

“Yes, yes. It’s all cleared out now,” said Mrs. Weasley, ushering them to the parlor on the second floor before leaving them alone with their ever-intimidating headmaster.

They watched as the man circled the small space, inspecting the tapestries and portraits on the walls as his vibrantly purple robes dragged on the stained, emerald carpet. Hermione was beginning to feel as though she were responsible for starting the conversation, when Professor Dumbledore finally seated himself on a settee, so moth-eaten and threadbare, the springs were starting to peak through. He motioned for the two of them to take seats as well in the two parlor chairs opposite him.

“Now, I’m sure both of you are wondering why I wanted to meet with you.”

They nodded.

“Yes, well, as both of you are here now and will no doubt soon know most of the Order’s business, I thought it important to have a chat with you,” explained Professor Dumbledore with a small smile. He always smiled liked that, thought Hermione, like he was laughing at some small joke only he knew.

“We won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. I mean, besides Harry, we’re the only people we talk to during the summer,” promised Ron.

“Ah – well that’s exactly who you cannot speak to about this,” said Professor Dumbledore, adjusting his half-moon spectacles.

“I’m not sure I quite understand, Professor,” said Hermione, pursing her lips.

“I’d be impressed if you did, Miss Granger. Even with your intellect, it is hard to understand something that has not been explained fully. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the ministry and the Prophet are not acknowledging Voldemort’s return—” Ron flinched at their headmaster’s use of You-Know-Who’s name, but Professor Dumbledore continued unfazed “—Fudge is growing increasingly paranoid as the days go by, I’m afraid. I would like to ask that neither of you tell Harry about where you are, and what you’re doing this summer until you can speak to him in person. It’s exceedingly important that you do not write to him about any of this. Harry has been through a lot in the last few months; best to give him less to think about for a while.”

“You’re not worried about the ministry intercepting our letters, are you Professor?” asked Hermione, realizing the severity of the situation if it were true.

“Ah, you see Miss Granger, that is exactly what I’m worried about. So, for now I ask that you keep your correspondence with Harry brief and to a minimum. Can you do that for me?”

“Absolutely Professor,” said Hermione.

“Yeah, of course Professor,” agreed Ron.

Professor Dumbledore released them after that, disappearing into the kitchen to the dining room where she was told the meetings were held. The rest of the evening was a blur, Hermione’s mind a clouded, foggy mess as she processed what Dumbledore had told them. For as little as he said, the implications behind his words spoke volumes. Fudge wasn’t just denying You-Know-Who’s return, he was growing paranoid. A paranoid, denial-ridden minister in a time such as this was a dangerous thing, thought Hermione.

“You look knackered ‘Mione. Perhaps you should go to bed?” a voice whispered lightly from beside her as she sat in the nearly empty dining room, staring into the roaring fire. Hermione looked up, vision slightly blurred and dotted with floating white orbs from staring too long into the flames. She blinked a few times, seeing Fred’s vision come into view. A small yawn escaped her lips and she nodded, looking around her to see what remained of the Order. Ginny and Ron laughed heartily as Tonks morphed her appearance into all kinds of silly things – she’d been doing it all night and yet the novelty of it had not worn off. Professor Lupin and Sirius were telling some story from their younger years to an entranced George, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were in the kitchen cleaning up.

“Come on, I’ll walk you,” said Fred, standing and offering his hand to Hermione. Hermione hesitated for a second, looking at the lines of Fred’s long fingers, before nodding and taking his hand. She supposed she was tired. More tired than she’d been in a while. Perhaps she might be able to get some actual sleep. The nightmares had been getting worse. Unsurprisingly, they’d picked back up the moment she’d started spending less time with the twins and more time worrying about Harry’s ability to survive during the tournament. Then, after the final task, after seeing Cedric’s lifeless body sprawled out on the grass as his father cried, they’d only gotten worse. The time spent at home only amplified it as well. It had been almost a month since she’d gotten a good night’s sleep. But, with the amount of time spent with the twins that day, she was almost positive that sleep would come easily and peacefully once again.

Hermione and Fred walked up the stairs to the third floor where their rooms resided. She was grateful that he did not apparate them straight up like last time and almost voiced as much. But instead, she opted to stay silent, allowing the soft, comfortable silence between them to last a little longer. This was nice. It almost felt like old times – when things weren’t so complicated and her and Fred were simply friends. When they reached her bedroom door, Hermione faltered, unsure as to why her feet kept her in place. She turned, looking up at Fred in the dimly, candle-lit hallway. The warm light of the candles turned his red hair to flames itself, igniting it in fiery reds and yellows. Harsh shadows streaked across his face, as the flicker of the flames passed his hazel eyes periodically. The goodnight she’d meant to give him, stuck in her throat and instead all she could do was stare up at him and marvel in how handsome he was.

“Thank you, Fred,” she finally managed to force the words from her drying throat.

Fred smiled down at her, reaching up and tucking one of her curls behind her ear. His touch lingered, the rough pads of his fingertips grazing the side of her cheek and sending shivers down Hermione’s body. She swallowed thickly.

“You know—” Fred began, pausing as if he was reconsidering his words “—you never told me how you can always tell me and George apart. Mum and dad almost never get it right and even our friends can’t do it. Merlin, even Angelina sometime—” He stopped, a pained expression on his face that gave Hermione’s heart a little jolt. How horrible it must be for everyone to always be confusing you for someone else. She wondered, for a moment, if he felt much like Ron did – forgotten, living in a shadow. Reaching up without thinking, she placed a hand to his cheek. Fred stiffened at her touch momentarily, but then relaxed into it, leaning his face ever so slightly into the palm of her hand.

“Well, it’s quite obvious really. Your eyes sit straight across, while George’s left one tilts down ever so slightly—” her fingers traced under his eyes lightly “—then of course there’s the line of your nose. Yours is straighter and you have a freckle, here, on the tip that George does not. And one here as well, above your top lip that George doesn’t have either.” Her fingers brushed across each of the freckles, her breath hitching when she got close to his mouth. Fred caught her wrist in his hand, holding it as he stared down at her with an inscrutable expression. Memories of his kiss all those months ago, flashed into the forefront of her mind and how she’d used that kiss to measure every kiss with Viktor. Nothing compared. Often times she’d lie awake at night and wonder if she’d be comparing every kiss for the rest of her life to the one she shared with Fred.

“You noticed all of that?”

“Of course,” breathed Hermione, pulse quickening.

“Why?”

This was all too much. She was getting too worked up over something she couldn’t have. She needed to get ahold of herself. Pulling from Fred’s grasp, she cleared her throat and looked down at Fred’s cardigan she still wore.

“I suppose, I really should give this back to you,” she said, hoping to break the spell between them.

And it did. Fred took a step back, creating space and looking down at the cardigan as well. He shook his head with a small smile before answering, “You’ve had it long enough now. I’d say it’s as good as yours.”

“Are you sure?” asked Hermione.

“Of course. I have loads. Looks better on your anyways—” Fred smirked, taking another step back “—Goodnight Hermione.”

“Goodnight,” Hermione mumbled, watching as Fred disappeared down the hallways and into his own room.

Hermione slipped into her bedroom and quickly changed into her pajamas, before sliding into the soft sheets of her bed. While they held a slightly musty smell from disuse, she could tell they were expensive. Sleep took her quickly. Visions of snow, lights, smart dress robes, and elegant dresses floating through her head as she dreamed. Good dreams.

But it was only a mere few hours later, in the early moments of the morning, before the sun even rose, that she sat up straight – heart beating wildly and brow sweat-slicked. With labored movements, she quietly slid out of bed, careful not to wake Ginny. She grabbed Fred’s cardigan and the pile of notes he’d made her before tiptoeing out of the room in search for a place to work. Surely in a house this size, they were bound to have a library.

Chapter 15>>>

Taglist: 

@theworldisugly-22

@aoonai

@sjh-07-10

@is-it-madness

@i-d-e-g-a-f

[whisker-biscuit]

In the Name of Science: Chapter 1

Fandom: Sonic Movie (2020)

Rating: T for unethical experimentation, implied violence and gore, and implied torture

Summary: Tom and Maddie didn’t make it in time to rescue Sonic from Robotnik. Hopefully it’s not too late to save him now. Unfortunately, hope is hard to come by in the labs of the mad doctor himself.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dr. Ivo Robotnik, M.D. Log 1 

Preliminary report: Subject is 3’3”, 14.1 lbs., male. Age and maturity unknown. Vaguely resembles four-toed hedgehog from outward appearance and obvious anatomy. Fur and quill are primarily cobalt blue, with chest and stomach fur light coral peach. Blood sample taken, analysis tbc. Note: internal anatomy to be examined at later date, due to blunt trauma and related injuries.

At 23:30 MST during transportation, subject’s heart ceased regular palpitations. Resuscitation was administered and subject was revived successfully. No other heart or organ irregularities occurred, and subject was transferred to personal laboratory at 1:56 MST for examination. About to conduct preliminary quill count and inspection at time of report.

Subject has yet to regain consciousness since initial containment.

End log

…….

Sonic comes to on a metal table, his face smashed against cold steel and his limbs stretched above and below him, cuffed together. He groans as the aches and pains from the fight with Eggman catches up all at once, and his body’s current position certainly isn’t helping. The hedgehog rubs his cheek against the metal, using the cold to try and ground himself so he can figure out how bad his situation is.

He doesn’t remember much beyond trying to escape at the top of the pyramid. There was heat at his back, and then everything hurt even more than it does now. So that must mean….

Something starts touching his quills. He stiffens.

“H-Hey, who’s there? What do you want?”

There’s no response, and whatever is messing with his quills moves down to their base, meeting fur and skin. Sonic gasps as the same freezing sensation from the table runs along his back. A weird high-pitched whirring fills the air as it goes along. Oh, it’s a robot doing that.

He struggles to turn his head to get a better look at this thing, but he can’t move more than a few inches. The robot continues to probe at his quills, seemingly oblivious to his response, and no matter how Sonic tries to twist and turn, nothing changes at all.

After what feels like an eternity, the robot pulls away and makes a sudden loud clicking sound. It startles the hedgehog into a jolt that he immediately regrets. His body protests, loudly.

“Quill count: 5933.”

“What?” He asks through gritted teeth, waiting for the pounding pain to go away.

The robot doesn’t reply, but then it starts poking at his fur again. Two fingers – are they fingers? Sonic hopes they’re fingers – find a longer quill and pinch at its base. He realizes what’s going to happen right before it does.

“Don’t-!”

It pulls. He sucks in a breath, closing his eyes as the quill is ripped out of his back. He’s no stranger to this sensation, but that doesn’t mean he’s okay with it happening. The robot finds another quill. Sonic flinches and rubs his cheek against the cold.

“Quill count: 5928,” the unfeeling thing announces to nothing once it’s done. It withdraws from the hedgehog who is currently trying to stay calm, holding the stolen quills and moving to some place Sonic still can’t see.

Tired, hurting, and now conflicted between angry and panicked, the teen decides to take a risk.

“Hey Eggman, I know you can hear me! Come out where I can see you! I know you’re scared of people who can kick your butt, but this is ridiculous!”

He yells it out with as much bravado as he can manage, and later he’ll say he was pretty proud of himself for keeping his voice steady. Then he listens, and waits.

For a long while he stays alone in that room, with only the robot doing whatever it’s doing to his quills. But eventually there’s the whoosh of an automatic door opening somewhere behind his left side. Sonic turns his head that way just in time for a long black coat to take up his entire view.

“Finally awake, I see.” The man says, and it’s hard to tell whether he’s pleased or annoyed by this fact. “You’ve been unconscious for nearly 8 hours.”

Sonic’s eyes trail up slowly, meeting the maniacally-gleeful face of his captor. He swallows, and it takes a few moments to find his voice again.

“D-Dang, that long? Must have been quite the beauty rest. How about you let me go so I can look myself in the mirror and tell you if it worked?”

“Just as chatty and full of hot air as your moronic human guardian. I should have expected that, which I did. Nothing ever gets past me, little alien.” 

The hedgehog falters. For a single second. “Oh yeah? Better get used to failure then, Eggman. I’ve gotten past you so many times already that I’ve lost count.”

Robotnik takes hold of his ear and twists. Sonic’s mouth clamps shut to keep the whine under his tongue, but he never takes his wide eyes off the scientist.

“Here’s how it’s going to go, hedgehog – which is what you most closely resemble in physical structure and biology, despite the incredibly irrational discrepancies.” 

He leans in to speak directly against the teen’s caught ear. 

“I’m going to do whatever I want to you, however I want, whenever I want, and the only words I want coming out of your mouth unless stated otherwise are ‘yes Doctor,’ ‘no Doctor,’ or ‘thank you Doctor.’ Do you understand?”

Sonic takes slow, shallowed breaths as he listens, and he steels himself before offering a nickname he’s only heard Donut Lord say twice ever.

“Sure thing, Dr. Douche.”

The hand on his ear pulls so hard that he thinks it’s going to come off. He chokes back a watery whimper when Robotnik forces his head up off the table.

“Pain receptors and nerve endings appear to be fully functional, although I can’t say the same for your auditory processing.”

“Ow, ow ow…” The teen’s hands clench into fists as his head is held back and kept there. He doesn’t dare close his eyes, watching Robotnik like he might rip his ear off entirely the moment he stops staring.

Finally, the man releases him, and Sonic’s head hits the table with a thunk. He winces at the painful contact to his chin. 

“Ow-uh, easy on the face! We can’t all look this good naturally, c’mon.”

The doctor stands up straight without acknowledging him. “Agent Stone.”

“Yes, Doctor?”

The hedgehog is startled by the assistant’s voice coming somewhere behind Robotnik; he had no idea the guy was even there.

“Set up my recording equipment pronto. Now that the subject is awake and responding in a…semi-intelligent manner, I do believe it’s time to get information firsthand.”

“Of course sir, right away.” Agent Stone’s voice is already fading as he leaves the room. The sound of equipment being shuffled starts up distantly.

Robotnik’s gloved hand returns to Sonic’s head and he flinches, but this time the touch is light and almost examining. He rubs his thumb and forefinger on either side of the teen’s ear, then trails down to run along the fur on top of his head. Sonic realizes with no small amount of disgust that he’s being petted, like what Tom does with Ozzie.

“Hey, quit it, I’m not a dog!” He tries to pull his head away to no avail.

“Those are the first scientifically correct words you’ve said thus far,” the scientist says quietly. “Although it’s such a low bar. Honestly, I thought that hick cop babysitter of yours was the least sapient lifeform on this planet until you opened your mouth for the first time.”

Sonic bristles. “Don’t talk about him like that. You don’t know anything.”

“Ah, I suppose you’re right. I shouldn’t pigeonhole you in the same category as that knuckle-dragger. You are so much more remarkable than that. A peak product of evolution. Well…physically, at least, but it isn’t so difficult to train animals.”

The hand hasn’t stopped petting him. Sonic feels a sick pit in his stomach, and it’s not just from the betraying urge to lean into the touch.

“If you think I’m going to roll over and do what you want, you’re wrong. I’ll get out of here somehow and then you’re going to regret it.”

“That’s the spirit I like to see! Makes the end result so much more satisfying when I’ve broken it.” Robotnik tilts his head to meet the teen’s anxious glare head-on. Then he half turns away to call out. “Stone! Are you finished yet, or do we need to set aside another eternity?”

“All set and ready to go, sir!” Comes the response from the other room. “The holding pen is prepped and secure as well!”

“Excellent, finally. It’s so hard to find decent human help these days.” 

He presses a few buttons on his left glove. A pair of floating egg-like robots appear and connect to Sonic’s restraints, releasing him from the table and lifting him up between them. The hedgehog tries futilely to kick out or make them drop him. Robotnik leads the way towards the other room, not giving his captive a second glance.

“Now the time for pointless chit-chat is over! Time for proper scientific observation!”

All Sonic can do is struggle as he’s carried away.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I thought Robotnik would be really hard to characterize, but I'm having an easier time with him than expected. Maybe it's cause Sonic is the one fighting me at every turn heh. Also, remember how in the movie Sonic supposedly stopped breathing and then got revived from his powers and friendship? Yeah, me too :)

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

Prologue

Chapter 2

[voidgriff]

𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖋 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖊𝖕'𝖘 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 ⇢ griffin beck

 hello !!  i’m    lava...  18,  mst,  any  pronouns, you  know  the  deal.  here’s  a  bit  about  miss  griffin,  our  local  wolf  sheep!  i’m  banking  on  plotting  with  every  single  one  of  ya’ll  and  i’m  easiest  to  reach  via  discord  so...  enjoy  the  read  it’s  way  too  long  sorry

 first  and  foremost,  here  are  the  basics  about  griffin:  20,  cis  female,  she/her,  fourth  year  criminal  justice  student, client  coordinator  at  foxglove  florists,  guitarist,  closeted  lesbian,  and  melanie’s  roommate  (before  she  croaked). 

griffin  was  born  and  raised  in  manhattan  to  parents  who  didn’t  know  how  to  function  and  wore carhartt  overalls.  they  weren’t  entirely  well  off,  but  were  the  type  of  family  to  always  try  to  keep  fresh  flowers  on  the  dining  table  and  have  game  nights  with  their  friends.  truly,  a  young  griffin  loved  her  life.  she  was  treated  good,  her  parents  were  loving,  her  surprise  younger  brother  was  cute.

(tw:  drugs,  cults)  that’s  all  until  she  turned  nine. the  b  in  beck  stood  for  bankrupt. of  course,  the  quick  solution  for  griffin’s  father  was  to  join  a  cult.  classic,  right?  a  man  on  the  subway  coerced  him  into  joining,  saying  that  they’d  take  care  of  all  of  the  beck  family’s  financial  and  spiritual  problems.  the  family  stayed  in  the  cult  for  five  years,  dabbling  in  drugs  (starting  at  age  twelve  for  griffin),  praying  to  a  god  they’d  never  heard  before,  and  all  that  jazz.  they  were  pretty  content.  i  mean,  they  were  all  brainwashed  into  believing  they  were  living  the  life  they  were  supposed  to.  however,  a  bad  acid  trip  made  mama  beck  realize  that  the  cult  wasn’t  so  great  after  all  (she  was  right,  finally).  days  later,  she  took  her  two  children  in  a  stolen  car  and  floored  it  to  a  new  apartment  in  queens  that  didn’t  have  dining  table  flowers  or  carhartt  overalls. 

and...  then  came  the  blame.  griffin  was  helpless,  just  a  kid  who  had  her  childhood  flipped  upside  down  and  missed  her  dad.  having  no  other  logical  reason,  mama  beck  started  to  blame  griffin  for  everything  that  happened.  the  fact  her  husband  wasn’t  around,  their  bankruptcy,  the  cult,  all  of  it.  naturally,  griffin  got  angry.  she  rebelled  against  her  mom,  using  high  school  as  her  escape.  at  school,  she  realized  people  had  normal  lives:  no  cult,  nothing  like  that,  and  griffin  fucking  longed  for  it.  she  got  to  know  everyone  she  could  (stoners,  cheerleaders,  nerds,  the  works)  and  found  comfort  in  their  stories.  she  learned  from  them,  most  importantly.

now  in  college,  griffin  feels  like  the  world  is  in  her  hands.  she  finally  fled  every  dark  entity  in  her  past  and  with  the  help  of  the  info  she  learned  in  high  school,  reinvented  herself  to  become  someone  she’s  finally  satisfied  with.  when  asked  about  her  past,  she  lies.  it’s  what  she  has  to  do  to  live  the  life  she  wants.  instead  of  starting  her  teenage  years  off  in  a  cult,  others  learn  that  she  lived  the  simpler  life  in  said  manhattan  apartment  up  until  moving  to  illinois.  there’s  no  mom  or  brother  in  her  picture,  just  a  dad  who  would  do  anything  and  everything  for  his  favorite  daughter.  that’s  how  it  always  should  have  been,  isn’t  it?  instead  of  an  actual  flesh  bottle  of  hate,  griffin  comes  across  as  happy  and  loving,  taking  others  who  need  help  under  her  wing.  while  she  tries  to  seem  care  free,  she  monitors  every  single  one  of  her  own  movements.  every  choice  she  makes  is  meaningful  and  there’s  no  way  in  hell  anybody  will  learn  a  single  thing  about  her  past  (or  sexuality!)  on  her  watch.  she’s  a  meme  queen,  really,  drawing  memes  in  her  planner    instead  of  inspirational  quotes.  she  knows  how  to  play  more  meme-y    songs  on  her  guitar  than  not,  but  this  side  isn’t  unlocked  until  you    generally  get  to  know  her.

even  though  griffin  presents  herself  this  way,  there’s  still  a  much  darker  side  to  her:  the  void.  yeah,  void.  like,  it’s  a  whole  different  person.  of  course  griffin  couldn’t  patch  herself  up  entirely.  there’s  still  a  hole  in  her  being  that  she  can’t  fill  with  whiskey  and  lukewarm  coffee.  even  though  she  generally  comes  across  as  happy,  there  are  days  when  she  sincerely  can’t  take  hold  of  herself  and  she’s  just  empty.  void  of  all  emotion.  all  that.  it  comes  out  at  all  the  worst  times  and  she  tends  to  be  a  bit  of  a…  lifeless  bitch  when  it  does.  rather  than  void  just  being  an  emotion,  it’s  really  a  whole  different  persona  for  her.  she  has  no  control  of  it,  really.  picture  like…  robbie  shapiro  as  griffin  and  rex  as  void.  some  relationship  like  that.  just  watch  out.

and  some  extra  bits:

pinterest  board !!

wanted  connections !!

griffin: fun  loving  and  as  laid  back  as  you  can  be.  still  dressing  how  your  father  wants,  but  throwing  in  bright  colors  and  shoes  that  have  seen  better  days.  always  laughing  and  smiling,  the  longing  to  get  to  know  more  people  without  giving  them  information  in  return.  plastering  memes  on  your  walls  to  make  yourself  smile  after  a  long  day  and  making  tik  toks  with  friends.  wearing  fancy  perfume  to  go  to  the  grocery  store  because  you  know  it’ll  make  the  cashier  happy,  having  one  too  many  white  claws  and  throwing  your  shoe  across  a  crowded  party.  picking  up  the  ugliest  blazers  at  the  thrift  store  to  give  them  a  home.  certain  songs  bringing  up  bad  memories  and  not  feeling�� like  talking  to  your  friends  for  the  rest  of  the  night.  keeping  the  extra  buttons  and  movie  stubs  because  you  know  you’ll  need  them  in  case  you  forget  yourself.

void: radio  static  interrupted  by  an  emergency  signal.  ignoring  a  hurricane  warning  and  simply  bringing  in  the  outdoor  furniture.  letting  the  tap  run  until  the  bathtub  overflows.  smoking  a  pack  a  day  just  to  feel  warm  inside.  a  king  not  flinching  as  he  watches  someone  get  decapitated.  feeling  like  you’re  nothing  more  than  the  skeleton  inside  you.  crying.  sleeping  on  the  floor  instead  of  your  bed  because  you  feel  like  its  what  you  deserve.  burning  yourself  with  a  cigarette  for  the  hell  of  it.  wearing  clothes  from  your  dirty  laundry  hamper  instead  of  something  from  your  clean  closet.  getting  on  a  bus  and  not  knowing  which  stop  you’ll  get  off  at.  nosebleeds  you  just  can’t  seem  to  stop.

[glorybcrn]

hihi everybody !! i’m kelly ( eighteen , she/her , mst ) and uh h ... i haven’t been in the roleplaying game for a hot minute but i’m really excited to be here n get back into it ! this is my garbage son gabriel who is technically an old muse ?? ngl i’ve dragged this poor binch to hell n back so if this intro kinda funky ... that why ....... also i may or may not be running on 3 hrs of sleep jfifjnck

◟ * ◊ ─ jason bateman + cismale + he/him » * believe it or not gabriel dombrova is working for the lothario family. they are forty seven years of age and are known to usually spend their time around city hall. the mayor, who has been a part of the alliance for sixteen years, has been living in victoria for forty seven years. the people closest to them describe the bisexual + capricorn to be driven and astute as well as reserved and unforgiving » 

background

— born and raised in victoria, despite not being a founding family, gabriel’s family still had relatively deep roots within the city; it was said that his great grandfather had moved here from massachusetts looking for the american dream. the patriarchal dombrova came from humble beginnings, building the family business ( a local inn ) from the ground up and over the decades it only got bigger and bigger until it had turned into the respectable hotel that it is known as today and now has multiple locations across the state of florida. naturally, his father inherited this business and his mother, on the other hand, is your typical southern belle, moved here from a small town in texas. she was a corporate lawyer ( it’s how she met gabriel’s father ) but since becoming a mother she really has had no interests in any other occupation other than trophy wife and socialite.

— to say that gabriel’s parents were old school would be putting it lightly. basically, both of his parents were deeply religious republicans and were very aware of their image as a family. they were harsh parents, extremely controlling when it came to their children’s lives but at the same time were also really emotionally absent. to this day they still believe that it was all in the name of tough love but obviously it was just emotional abuse. his father was especially hard on gabriel, he was a strong believer in physical discipline and thought gabriel to be too “soft”. he was always berating him, punishing him for petty offences, and pretty much just fostering your typical environment of toxic masculinity. though he never laid a hand on gabriel’s sister as she was what he called, “a lady” and his “pride and joy.”

— but gabriel was a good kid, he was obedient aside from stupid mistakes that kids are bound to make. he was your typical golden boy, a jack of all trades of sorts. not exceptionally good at one thing, but averagely good at a multitude of things. he was a quick learner and dedicated, anything he took a crack at, he eventually excelled in. throughout high school, he mostly kept to himself, choosing to focus on his education and after graduating valedictorian, he went to harvard where he earned his business degree. the plan was to come back to victoria, work for his father, and make his way up until he was ready to inherit the business himself.

— but while away at university, he met abigail. it was your typical whirlwind of a first love where it felt like it was just the two of you against the world. with her, gabriel experienced a sense of normalcy and sincere, unconditional love. for someone who severely lacked both up until then, maybe it wasn’t so crazy that the two decided to marry as soon as they graduated. together, they moved back to victoria to start their lives. to an outsider, gabriel’s life had seemingly always been perfect, envy-worthy. with a renowned and respected family, a successful business, the perfect wife, and now, a baby on the way too, it’s no wonder he’d been chosen by the lothario’s to be their candidate as mayor.

— his connection with the alliance started out small; the hotel business had been in a rough spot for a couple of years and out of nowhere, they seemed to have just come in at the right time, saving the day. he could be on their payroll all for the price of a few, teensy favours. favours such as his hotel being used as refuge for some of their men, a place of business when needed, and gabriel refusing to be a failure, especially in his father’s eyes, easily succumbed to their offer. 

— of course, gabriel’s family has no idea about the real root of his sudden interest in politics, much less how the family business has managed to be so successful still despite his now even busier schedule. and as a result, his relationship with his wife and children have deteriorated over the years. it began as a defense mechanism, intentionally distancing himself from his loved ones as a way to protect them. and while his children maybe the one last soft spot gabriel has left, his sudden absence as a father has definitely put a strain on his relationship with them. however his relationship with his wife seemed to suffer even more, things between the two of them are definitely not how they once used to be. they’re cold to one another and see each other more so as strangers rather than husband and wife. unfortunately, a divorce doesn’t exactly fit into the white picket-fence image gabriel had so carefully curated over the years. 

personality

— after decades of playing different facades, gabriel’s definitely lost a sense of his true self, or maybe it’s just fully gone. he used to be this really compassionate and benevolent person who always prioritized family over anything. it’s why ( at least this is what he tells himself ) he initially risked getting into business with the alliance in the first place, but now, he really only pretends to be those things to get the people to like him. he can be incredibly charming when he wants to be but it’s all just so .. hollow ? if that makes sense. like, nowadays there’s rarely an ounce of honesty or sincerity in him. he’s just so consumed with being a part of the alliance, it’s all he really knows at this point.

— extremely driven and cunning, if there’s something gabriel wants, he’ll get it. even as a child, he was an over achiever and so he’s known to always come through when it’s requested of him. he’s not exactly evil .. ? but he is loyal to the lotharios. i think there’s a small part of him that hates them, hates himself, and hates what he’s doing but idk he kinda just tells that it to shut up lmao. having had to learn it as a child, he’s very good at compartmentalizing which is probably why he can play all these different roles so well without going insane dnkjds

— really reserved, tries ( and succeeds ) to put out this strait-laced and conservative image. has the ability to remain calm in any sort of situation and twist things to his advantage. like honestly ?? gabriel is probably a pr manager’s wet dream .. he just comes across as this very charming and kind man, he’s the type of politician that’ll say hi to your baby and sign its head idk

but ugh idk it’s hard to explain gabriel’s personality since he’s such an emotional mess, i would just end up rambling about the same thing over and over again if i tried to keep going so i’m gonna .. stop right now.

connections

— personal assistant ?? someone incredibly organized and competent. this plot can range from really basic like .. yeah book my doctor’s appointment thnx to someone he’s actually pretty close to ? maybe he doesn’t even realize it, idk. like we can literally do wtvr w this, so !

— other members of the alliance, could be just someone he’s acquainted with or knows well and works pretty close with.

— if you have any muses involved with politics or managing ? his campaign manager or just anyone who worked on his campaign. like w the personal assistant we can .. go basic or brazy w this.

— love interests ? doesn’t have to be ~romantic~ per se .. but idk like affairs ig ?? cause .. gabe’s not perfect, rip. but he is careful so it wldn’t be like .. smth messy or if it was he’d prob make certain measurements after. idk what that means exactly dnjsnsdjk just tryna not get caught uk … or even something as small as flirtationships !

ok these all suck bc gabe is….. emotionally dead inside cnjdsnksnjd but ! obv tht can change per circumstance n whatever so pls .. feel free to mssg me whenever if u have any ideas !!

[didanawisgi]

Phoenix Lights - 1997 “The Phoenix Lights (sometimes called the "Lights over Phoenix") were a series of widely sighted unidentified flying objects observed in the skies over Arizona, Nevada in the United States, and Sonora, Mexico on Thursday, March 13, 1997. Lights of varying descriptions were seen by thousands of people between 19:30 and 22:30 MST, in a space of about 300 miles (480 km), from the Nevada line, through Phoenix, to the edge of Tucson.   There were allegedly two distinct events involved in the incident: a triangular formation of lights seen to pass over the state, and a series of stationary lights seen in the Phoenix area. The United States Air Force identified the second group of lights as flares dropped by A-10 Warthog aircraft that were on training exercises at the Barry Goldwater Range in southwest Arizona. Witnesses claim to have observed a huge carpenter's square-shaped UFO, containing five spherical lights or possibly light-emitting engines. Fife Symington, the governor at the time, was one witness to this incident; he later called the object "otherworldly." The lights were reported to have reappeared in 2007 and 2008, but these events were quickly attributed to (respectively) military flares dropped by fighter aircraft at Luke Air Force Base and flares attached to helium balloons released by a civilian. Initial reports At about 18:55 PST (19:55 MST), a man reported seeing a V-shaped object above Henderson, Nevada. He said it was about the "size of a (Boeing) 747", sounded like "rushing wind", and had six lights on its leading edge. The lights reportedly traversed northwest to the southeast. An unidentified former police officer from Paulden, Arizona is claimed to have been the next person to report a sighting after leaving his house at about 20:15 MST. As he was driving north, he allegedly saw a cluster of reddish or orange lights in the sky, comprising four lights together and a fifth light trailing them. Each of the individual lights in the formation appeared to the witness to consist of two separate point sources of orange light. He returned home and through binoculars watched the lights until they disappeared south over the horizon. Prescott and Prescott Valley

Lights were also reportedly seen in the areas of Prescott and Prescott Valley. At approximately 20:17 MST, callers began reporting the object was definitely solid, because it blocked out much of the starry sky as it passed over. John Kaiser was standing outside with his wife and sons in Prescott Valley when they noticed a cluster of lights to the west-northwest of their position. The lights formed a triangular pattern, but all of them appeared to be red, except the light at the nose of the object, which was distinctly white. The object, or objects, which had been observed for approximately 2 to 3 minutes with binoculars, then passed directly overhead the observers, they were seen to "Bank to the right", and they then disappeared in the night sky to the southeast of Prescott Valley. The altitude could not be determined, however it was fairly low and made no sound whatsoever. The National UFO Reporting Center received the following report from the Prescott area: While doing astrophotography I observed five yellow-white lights in a "V" formation moving slowly from the northwest, across the sky to the northeast, then turn almost due south and continue until out of sight. The point of the "V" was in the direction of movement. The first three lights were in a fairly tight "V" while two of the lights were further back along the lines of the "V"'s legs. During the NW-NE transit one of the trailing lights moved up and joined the three and then dropped back to the trailing position. I estimated the three light "V" to cover about 0.5 degrees of sky and the whole group of five lights to cover about 1 degree of sky. Dewey

At the town of Dewey, 10 miles (16 km) east of Prescott, Arizona, six people saw a large cluster of lights while driving northbound on Highway 69. First sighting from Phoenix

Tim Ley and his wife Bobbi, his son Hal and his grandson Damien Turnidge first saw the lights when they were above Prescott Valley about 65 miles (100 km) away from them. At first they appeared to them as five separate and distinct lights in an arc-shape like they were on top of a balloon, but they soon realized the lights appeared to be moving towards them. Over the next ten or so minutes they appeared to be coming closer and the distance between the lights increased and they took on the shape of an upside down V. Eventually when the lights appeared to be a couple of miles away the witnesses could make out a shape that looked like a 60-degree carpenter's square with the five lights set into it, with one at the front and two on each side. Soon the object with the embedded lights appeared to be coming right down the street where they lived about 100 to 150 feet (30 to 45 meters) above them, traveling so slowly it appeared to hover and was silent. The object then seemed to pass over their heads and went through a V opening in the peaks of the mountain range towards Squaw Peak Mountain and toward the direction of Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport. Witnesses in Glendale, a suburb northwest of Phoenix, saw the object pass overhead at an altitude high enough to become obscured by the thin clouds; this was at approximately between 20:30 and 20:45 MST. Arriving in Phoenix

When the triangular formation entered the Phoenix area, Bill Greiner, a cement driver hauling a load down a mountain north of Phoenix, described the second group of lights: "I'll never be the same. Before this, if anybody had told me they saw a UFO, I would've said, 'Yeah and I believe in the Tooth Fairy.' Now I've got a whole new view and I may be just a dumb truck driver, but I've seen something that don't belong here." Greiner stated that the lights hovered over the area for more than two hours. After Phoenix

A report came from a young man in the Kingman area who stopped his car at a public phone to report the incident. "[The] young man, en route to Los Angeles, called from a phone booth to report having seen a large and bizarre cluster of stars moving slowly in the northern sky". Reappearance in 2007

A repeat of the lights occurred February 6, 2007, and was recorded by the local Fox News television station. According to military officials and the Federal Aviation Administration, these were flares dropped by F-16 aircraft training at Luke Air Force Base. Reappearance in 2008

On April 21, 2008, lights were again reported over North Phoenix by local residents. According to witnesses, the lights formed a vertical line, then spread apart and made a diamond shape. The lights also formed a U-shape at one time. Tony Toporek video taped the lights. He was talking to neighbors at 8 p.m. when the lights appeared. He went and grabbed his camera to get the lights on video. A valley resident reported that shortly after the lights appeared, three jets were seen heading west in the direction of the lights. An official from Luke Air Force Base denied any United States Air Force activity in the area. On April 22, 2008, a resident of Phoenix told a newspaper that the lights were nothing more than his neighbor releasing helium balloons with flares attached. The following day a Phoenix resident who declined to be identified in news reports stated he had attached flares to helium balloons and released them from his back yard. However, no name or pictures of the reported hoaxter were ever released, nor was anyone cited, ticketed or charged from the supposed releasing of flares over a residential area that at the time was enduring a record drought. Photographic documentation

Imagery of the Phoenix Lights falls into two categories: images of the triangular formation seen prior to 22:00 MST in Prescott and Dewey, and images of the 22:00 MST Phoenix event. Almost all known images are of the second event. All known images were produced using a variety of commercially available camcorders and cameras. First event

There are few known images of the Prescott/Dewey lights. Television station KSAZ reported that an individual named Richard Curtis recorded a detailed video that purportedly showed the outline of a spacecraft, but that the video had been lost. The only other known video is of poor quality and shows a group of lights with no craft visible. Second event

During the Phoenix event, numerous still photographs and videotapes were made, distinctly showing a series of lights appearing at a regular interval, remaining illuminated for several moments and then going out. These images have been repeatedly aired by documentary television channels such as the Discovery Channel and the History Channel as part of their UFO documentary programming. The most frequently seen sequence shows what appears to be an arc of lights appearing one by one, then going out one by one. UFO advocates claim that these images show that the lights were some form of "running light" or other aircraft illumination along the leading edge of a large craft — estimated to be as large as a mile (1.6 km) in diameter — hovering over the city of Phoenix. Other similar sequences reportedly taken over a half hour period show differing numbers of lights in a V or arrowhead array. Thousands of witnesses throughout Arizona also reported a silent, mile wide V or boomerang shaped craft with varying numbers of huge orbs. A significant number of witnesses reported that the craft was silently gliding directly overhead at low altitude. The first-hand witnesses consistently reported that the lights appeared as "canisters of swimming light", while the underbelly of the craft was undulating "like looking through water". However, skeptics claim that the video is evidence that mountains not visible at night partially obstructed views from certain angles, thereby bolstering the claim that the lights were more distant than UFO advocates claim. UFO advocate Jim Dilettoso claimed to have performed "spectral analysis" of photographs and video imagery that proved the lights could not have been produced by a man-made source. Dilettoso claimed to have used software called "Image Pro Plus" (exact version unknown) to determine the amount of red, green and blue in the various photographic and video images and construct histograms of the data, which were then compared to several photographs known to be of flares. Several sources have pointed out, however, that it is impossible to determine the spectral signature of a light source based solely on photographic or video imagery, as film and electronics inherently alter the spectral signature of a light source by shifting hue in the visible spectrum, and experts in spectroscopy have dismissed his claims as being scientifically invalid. Normal photographic equipment also eliminates light outside the visible spectrum — e.g., infrared and ultraviolet — that would be necessary for a complete spectral analysis. The maker of "Image Pro Plus", Media Cybernetic, has stated that its software is incapable of performing spectroscopic analysis. Cognitech, an independent video laboratory, superimposed video imagery taken of the Phoenix Lights onto video imagery it shot during daytime from the same location. In the composite image, the lights are seen to extinguish at the moment they reach the Estrella mountain range, which is visible in the daytime, but invisible in the footage shot at night. A broadcast by local Fox Broadcasting Company affiliate KSAZ-TV claimed to have performed a similar test that showed the lights were in front of the mountain range and suggested that the Cognitech data might have been altered. Dr. Paul Scowen, visiting professor of Astronomy at Arizona State University, performed a third analysis using daytime imagery overlaid with video shot of the lights and his findings were consistent with Cognitech. The Phoenix New Times subsequently reported the television station had simply overlaid two video tracks on a video editing machine without using a computer to match the zoom and scale of the two images. Wind direction data

Wind direction measured independently by several weather stations in the Phoenix area and archived by the National Climate Data Center is consistent with reports about the movement of the lights. During the events, wind direction (origin) was changing from roughly west (i.e. blowing towards the east) to north (i.e. blowing towards the south). This supports the hypothesis that the flying objects were wind driven and could simply have been balloons or flares. Wind direction in Phoenix, AZ on March 13–14, 1997. Wind is reported by the direction from which it originates. Data courtesy of NOAA National Climate Data Center. Explanations

There is some controversy as to how best to classify the reports on the night in question. Some are of the opinion that the differing nature of the eyewitness reports indicates that several unidentified objects were in the area, each of which was its own separate "event". This is largely dismissed by skeptics as an over-extrapolation from the kind of deviation common in necessarily subjective eyewitness accounts. The media and most skeptical investigators have largely preferred to split the sightings into two distinct classes, a first and second event, for which two separate explanations are offered: First event

The first event — the "V", which appeared over northern Arizona and gradually traveled south over nearly the entire length of the state, eventually passing south of Tucson — was the apparently "wedge-shaped" object reported by then-Governor Symington and many others. This event started at about 20:15 MST over the Prescott area, and was seen south of Tucson by about 20:45 MST. Proponents of two separate events propose that the first event still has no provable explanation, but that some evidence exists that the lights were in fact airplanes. According to an article by reporter Janet Gonzales that appeared in the Phoenix New Times, videotape of the v shape shows the lights moving as separate entities, not as a single object; a phenomenon known as illusory contours can cause the human eye to see unconnected lines or dots as forming a single shape. Mitch Stanley, an amateur astronomer, observed high altitude lights flying in formation using a Dobsonian telescope giving 43× magnification. After observing the lights, he told his mother, who was present at the time, that the lights were aircraft. According to Stanley, the lights were quite clearly individual airplanes; a companion who was with him recalled asking Stanley at the time what the lights were, and he said, "Planes". When Stanley first gave an account of his observation at the Discovery Channel Town Hall Meeting with all the witnesses there he was shouted down in his assertion that what he saw was what other witnesses saw. Some have claimed that Stanley was seeing the Maryland National Guard jets flying in formation during a routine training mission at the Barry M. Goldwater bombing range south of Phoenix. It is possible that the Phoenix Lights Vee is actually a group of planes based on the explanation of a similar sighting in South California. Second event

The second event was the set of nine lights appearing to "hover" over the city of Phoenix at around 10 pm. The second event has been more thoroughly covered by the media, due in part to the numerous video images taken of the lights. This was also observed by numerous people who may have thought they were seeing the same lights as those reported earlier. The U.S. Air Force explained the second event as slow-falling, long-burning LUU-2B/B illumination flares dropped by a flight of four A-10 Warthog aircraft on a training exercise at the Barry Goldwater Range at Luke Air Force Base. According to this explanation, the flares would have been visible in Phoenix and appeared to hover due to rising heat from the burning flares creating a "balloon" effect on their parachutes, which slowed the descent. The lights then appeared to wink out as they fell behind the Sierra Estrella, a mountain range to the southwest of Phoenix. A Maryland Air National Guard pilot, Lt. Col. Ed Jones, responding to a March 2007 media query, confirmed that he had flown one of the aircraft in the formation that dropped flares on the night in question. The squadron to which he belonged was in fact at Davis-Monthan AFB, Arizona on a training exercise at the time and flew training sorties to the Barry Goldwater Range on the night in question, according to the Maryland Air National Guard. A history of the Maryland Air National Guard published in 2000 asserted that the squadron, the 104th Fighter Squadron, was responsible for the incident. The first reports that members of the Maryland Air National Guard were responsible for the incident were published in The Arizona Republic newspaper in July 1997. Military flares such as these can be seen from hundreds of miles given ideal environmental conditions. Later comparisons with known military flare drops were reported on local television stations, showing similarities between the known military flare drops and the Phoenix Lights. An analysis of the luminosity of LUU-2B/B illumination flares, the type which would have been in use by A-10 aircraft at the time, determined that the luminosity of such flares at a range of approximately 50–70 miles would fall well within the range of the lights viewed from Phoenix. Dr. Bruce Maccabee did an extensive triangulation of the four videotapes, determining that the objects were near or over the Goldwater Proving Grounds. Page 5 of Dr. Maccabee's analysis refers to Bill Hamilton and Tom King's sighting position at Steve Blonder's home. Blonder has worked with Dr. Maccabee to fully include his sighting position in the triangulation report. Maccabee has also refined three other sighting positions and lines of sight in 2012. News media response

There was minimal news coverage at the time of the incident. In Phoenix, a small number of local news outlets noted the event, but it received little attention beyond that. But on June 18, 1997, USA Today ran a front-page story that brought national attention to the case. This was followed by news coverage on the ABC and NBC television networks. The case quickly caught the popular imagination and has since become a staple of UFO-related documentary television, including specials produced by the History Channel and the Discovery Channel. Governor's response Shortly after the lights, Arizona Governor Fife Symington III held a press conference, stating that "they found who was responsible". He proceeded to make light of the situation by bringing his aide on stage dressed in an alien costume. (Dateline, NBC). But in March 2007, Symington said that he had witnessed one of the "crafts of unknown origin" during the 1997 event, although he did not go public with the information. In an interview with The Daily Courier in Prescott, Arizona, Symington said, "I'm a pilot and I know just about every machine that flies. It was bigger than anything that I've ever seen. It remains a great mystery. Other people saw it, responsible people. I don't know why people would ridicule it". Symington had earlier said, "It was enormous and inexplicable. Who knows where it came from? A lot of people saw it, and I saw it too. It was dramatic. And it couldn't have been flares because it was too symmetrical. It had a geometric outline, a constant shape." Symington also noted that he requested information from the commander of Luke Air Force Base, the general of the National Guard, and the head of the Arizona Department of Public Safety. But none of the officials he contacted had an answer for what had happened, and were also perplexed. Later, he responded to an Air Force explanation that the lights were flares: "As a pilot and a former Air Force Officer, I can definitively say that this craft did not resemble any man made object I'd ever seen. And it was certainly not high-altitude flares because flares don't fly in formation". In an episode of the television show UFO Hunters called "The Arizona Lights", Symington said that he contacted the military asking what the lights were. The response was "no comment". He pointed out that he was the governor of Arizona at the time, not just some ordinary civilian. Frances Barwood, the 1997 Phoenix city councilwoman who launched an investigation into the event, said that of the over 700 witnesses she interviewed, "The government never interviewed even one".” 

Source: https://www.mufon.com/phoenix-lights---1997.html

[filmcave]

Not the Same

There is an unusual battle going on right now in the world of cinema. But it also acts as a microcosm and sort of shard of a hologram for other battles happening.

Like every battle there plusses and minuses to each side and naturally the other side sees each other as a kind of threat.

At its core is a philosophical question: Does size matter? The Sophomoric and silly undertones of sexual innuendo aside in this question, it is entirely genuine.

When Louis and Auguste Lumiere screened the first public movie ever in 1895, at the Grand Cafe in Paris, certainly the size of the screen was not the fascination. How could it be? The magic of the moment was seeing flickering light and shadow images dancing on a plain surface transporting the audience to another place and time.

Employees leaving the Factory (in Lyon)

What an incredible moment and experience this mst have been for this audience. Even if they could not have sensed the economic and cultural impact, they were seeing something no one had publicly seen before.

The “moving pictures” were the attraction. The fascination, fear and amazement they felt must have been palpable. This was not an innovation in cinema, it was the creation of it!

From that point forward changes in the production, distribution, performance and experience of cinema are all that was left.

And we know that those changes have proliferated and in many cases advanced film. With the exception of one area - film analysis and discussion. This area has languished in the scrap heap of literary criticism. This is not to say people don’t have or choose not to 'advertise their opinions (far from it). As a conglomerate of disciples of film critics commentary has de-evolved and been reduced to a range of thoughts that can be best described as the binary “I liked it” / “I didn’t like it” dialectic. Yawn, how uninteresting.

When this is typically combined with a lack of understanding of that “that on the screen” came to be the discussion becomes an exercise in auto asphyxiation. Straining and stressing under the weight of its own limitations.

If we begin to look at the individual components of “how its made” we can chart a path towards understanding better the purpose and mission of the film. Most people depart the cinema soon after the final shot of the story. But even as they leave they are well aware there is a very long line of credits. In so e simple sense they probably understand that each one of those people played a role in the creation of that film. But a movie is Spam in a can, if it never gets shown.

This is the point where the evil genius of Netflix enters. Over the 120+ years that cinema has been made public. Many advancements in the movie going experience (and dubious ones) have been cauterized by a single ethic of the social contract. A movie goer needed to get off their fat ass and find their way to an actual physical theatre, buy a ticket and watch the movie in the temporary co-habitation with strangers.

At one point in time the cinemas who screened these films figuratively had a captive audience. There was one or two cinemas in town. They showed one movie for an entire week and then it was gone. Limited supply (number of seats, days and films) made for high demand. People dressed up and went in droves. The film studios owned the theaters, production equipment and the actors were “under contract”. It was an oligarchy of the wealthy. They had immense power and influence.

This power began to fade as independent distributors and cinemas began to crop up. Like in professional athletics actors became free agents where they could take their skills and reputations where they wished. Unions formed and the power dissipated. The website statista estimates the global film industry will be $50 billion dollars in 2020. Thats a pie a lot of people would like to stick their snout into.

Enter Netflix et al. Otherwise known as the Satans of Silicon Valley. Before I pontificate on SVS it might be helpful to philosophize on the question of what kind of value they bring to this world to begin with.

To begin with they are a society. An insulated, top down culture presided over by people with certain kinds of brilliant intellect and intelligence around a few extremely limited things. On top of this there is a self perception that is also pointed outwards as a marketing message cum “social good”. For them to see themselves as valuable parts of society at large they must perpetuate and proselytize this ethic/message. It is a nearly completely corrupt mentality especially devoid of emotional intelligence and a genuine sense of greater good. For many of the FANG stocks (a prescient acronym for Facebook, Apple (Amazon), Netflix, Google) the trick is to write some code, give it to a “user” for free and then have that user do all the work to build a successful revenue generating business. Its genius and entirely immoral. The users are the product, they develop and refine the product, allow a given company to take or steal their information which that company can then use to sell shit right back to them In the words of Karl Marx, the workers are the means of production AND the product.

Allthe company needs to do is continue to convince the users they need to keep working. They fo this by “engaging them” in things that touch in fears, dreams, hopes and deficiencies.

Ok, so a bit of a deviation here but the core point, relative to our topic of screen size, is to examine what value (if any) Netflix is bringing to the movie game.

Lets start with their motivation. First, middle and last Netflix is a growth and consumption machine. But if we look at the content they “recommend” it is created, design and directed to appeal to YOU. Their business wet dream is to have you intravenously fed chemically and neurologically customized euphoric content. Like the masses in The Matrix they need you to have a stable income and an all you can eat mentality. Why else would they continue to push new movies and episodes having them start before the last has finished.

So, how about the quality of said content. Well, financially speaking, they are agnostic on that. However, to steal your attention away from other content (including real life) they need to convince you its better.

This is where awards come to play. Any kind of award will do but of course when you’re talking about insatiable appetites, you’re talking the big awards. Golden Globes, Grammy’s, Oscars. And winners from the elite festivals. And when you’re taking in obscene amounts of cash, there’s lots to spend..and spend they do. For many years Amazon was a money losing venture. Not any more.

According to Statista Amazons Q4 revenue in 2018 was $72.38 billion

Apple - $62.9 B in the same period

Netflix - $4.19 B

Google - $33.7 B (reported for Q3 as parent company Alphabet)

Those four quarterly revenue streams combined (over $173 billionj is more than the annual GDP in Rhode Island, Vermont and New Hampshire.

So, yeah...its all about the Benjamins

Right. So no surprise there. Its not illegal to make money.

But this is the kernal of the issue for chain cinemas. Netflix is taking revenue from them.

Lets look at the core matter regarding quality of work. At this point the poster chold for this is the astounding and impressive film: Roma.

Its is the brainchild of Alfonso Cuarón and it is making waves (if you’ve seen it this is a pun) because of the awards and recognition is has garnered but also by the way Netflix has accomplished it. They have a brilliant beautiful film on their hands the credit to which needs to firmly given to them. They are exploiting the opportunity to attract filmmakers by giving them broad artistic license and backing movies studios shy away from or don’t support due to a personal beef with the artists.

So far as this empowerment to the creators I say “good for you Netflix”. It is certainly their right to distribute it in whichever wsy and to the degree they wish. Its their toy. Obviously it gives them a monopoly in who sees it when its not in cinemas - their customers. This cultural shift might be upsetting or off putting to many for many reasons. But the notion of adopting technologies that already exist comes to mind.

Some credit does need to be accorded to Netflix. They fully funded the vision and sensibility of a Director, cast and crew and single handedly provided access to an extraordinary mvie to millions of people who might not otherwise have access to see it. Kudos.

However...

I first saw Roma on my large screen TV and loved it. I begrudgingly gave credit to Netflix for this coup. But...it haunted me and got me to thinking. The “what about” questions began to creep to my consciousness. It was too good and I wanted more. But the “tiny” 45” screen and schmaltzy TV speakers were incapable of delivering the full, Director intended experience.

But I was stuck. Netflix had cleverly rigged the game. To qualify for the Oscars, the film needed to be shown on a movie house screen in a minimum number of locations. Netflix complied - but barely.. And so, under carefully controlled limited release it was made available. But if you have the misfortune of not being close enough to a legitimate movie screen, you were out of luck. Nay, this lack of good fortune extended further when I learned there were a few 70 mm high definition sound copies out there.

For a cinephile, large screen format is nirvana. Seeing a movie conceived, shot and meant for a large screen is an experience irreplaceable. It can’t be recreated anywhere else.

So sticking this instant classic into a small screen is like telling a great writer they can only use half the alphabet. A musician half the notes. Or a chef food but no spices. Whats the point of trying?

If Netflix wishes to keep its toys to itself, so be it. But really how much farther do they think they have advanced cinema beyond Employees leaving the Factory. Not very far to me.

And watching an epic film like Roma on anything other screen than a large cinema screen, with stereo sound...not the same.

[chrliekclly]

I rly luv Kaitlin so I was watching interviews of her and I saw this 1 where her funny anecdote was literally just 'my husband did blackface for our show and I got hurt on set so when we went to the hospital he didn't bother taking off the makeup and a lot of the ppl in the hospital were rly upset and disturbed haha isn't that funny :)' and now I can't look at her without getting kinda bummed :/ like watching her talk about the biggest mistake sunny has ever made like it was funny was so gross:(

listn, i hear ya, bt unfortunately im not th 1 to come to w this stuff bcuz evn tho im black iv...p mch movd past th fact tht sunny did blackface lmfao

to start, th n word has ben said 3x by non-black ppl on th show. first time is literally n ep 1. like, it’s ben racey th ntire time. th blackface wz done n jest/is called back to later w den saying “im not gunna lie, his use of blackface i found a bit regrettable.” thers evn an ep basically dedicated to them debating abt how offensiv it was to do. like, idk, these charas r shitty ppl nd rcg consistently tests how far they cn take that

still, th story that bums u out is 1 of th stories tht actully makes me laugh th most. id b so confused nd uncomfy if i was the emergency personnel, absolutely, nd im not saying tht them doing blackface is like, ok or excusable. bt it doesnt rly bothr me to th xtent it seems to bothr others. white ppl do garbage things mch too consistently fr me to get heated abt evry single issue tbh lmfao

n e ways kaitlin is still xtremely important to me nd i dnt think her finding th situation funny wz hateful, nor meant to b taken as her bein like “blackface is funny.” situationally, it’s jst a hilarious nd awkward af thng to happen. like, her havin no idea y theyr gettin glared @ b4 turning to rob nd Suddenly Remembering like “oh shit yEAH...the uh...blackface...ok yep that’s fair lmao whoops.”

i get y it makes ppl uncomfy. i get tht sm ppl cant look past it. im not gnna call n e 1 sensitiv or sm shit fr caring a lot, nd its not like i think blackface is funny. i jst think, specific to wat ur mentioning, th anecdote is less “its funny we made ppl uncomfy” nd more “its funny i wz oblivious to th situation b4 i realizd how offensiv we mst hav lookd”

[archiveddvrpg]

Congratulations, HARRY! You’ve been accepted for the role of HAMLET. Admin Jen: Ah, Harry, you can’t imagine the sheer thrill I felt while reading your application. In general, we were very excited to see Hassan but more than anything, we were excited to see a genuine understanding of him as he is such a nuanced character. And you gave us everything we were looking for and more! I could really feel your passion for Hamlet as I read and that was the main factor that amplified your portrayal and made Hassan’s voice shine. I could sense the connection you’ve felt towards him - especially in the interview which made it such a delightful sight to behold. Your analysis of his mannerisms was brilliant and I was so in love with the way you portrayed the eloquence in his speech and the way he vocalized his thoughts. I’m so enamored by your take on him! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character Alias | Harry Age | 18 Preferred Pronouns | They/them Activity Level | I’m a full-time college student with a job and am involved with student government. However i love Shakespeare more than anything so I’ll be on literally whenever possible. Timezone | MST Current/Past RP Accounts | pucky-goodfellow.tumblr.com (the group has recently closed so my activity there has stalled however I still adore the character and the way I wrote him. It’s a lot more dialogue heavy than I imagine my writing for this being as well) In Character Character | Hamlet What drew you to this character? | Hamlet is a character that has always been torn in more directions than any man could survive and it’s this aspect that was really emphasized in the skeleton that brought me in. I feel like this particular version of Hamlet is a fusion between Prince Hal from Henry IV and the Hamlet Shakespeare originally penned. Instead of focusing on the events that occur in the source material, the skeleton takes those same things that drove the play to happen and builds upon them. What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

Blood and Loyalty: The same pleading in Hassan’s heart that begs him to avenge his father also begs him to not abandon the mob. A requested hit sends Hassan into an emotional tailspin where the two desires of his heart collide in spectacular fashion, threatening to burn the young heir into a shadow of himself.

What to do? What to Say?: Not all problems can be solved with a clandestine knife to the ribs, no matter how much Hassan wishes. An impossible choice is presented to him, where innocence could die no matter which choice he makes. The bottles are piling high and he’s no closer to a solution. What on Earth should he do?

The Weight of the Past: It wasn’t easy for Hassan to get where he is now. He blazed his own path, using only his father’s name, the bottle, and an will stronger than iron to send him into such a powerful position. But getting here wasn’t easy, and the past has come to enact its toll. The deeds Hassan has tried so hard to bury have returned, and this time, threaten to drag him down with them.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yeah, I’m completely ok with that. It could be very interesting! In Depth TWs for torture, death, violence, and alcoholism. In-Character Interview: What is your favorite place in Verona?

Hassan was in a chair no more regal than any other, but he sat in it like it was a throne. “I seem to think you believe this to be a difficult question,” Hassan pondered as he fixed the small interviewer with a calculating look. “And I don’t know why.”

He let the silence hang from the heavy tapestries like a bad omen, before he cracked that infamous smile known for putting allies and victims at ease all at once. “The family I serve has an excellent library,” he lightly joked. “And sometimes the tangled mess of my mind needs to quietly work itself out without outside interference.”

Hassan left his statement at that, choosing to allow his words to create the image of a man in quiet contemplation surrounded by the knowledge of others. He hadn’t lied, per say, but he did omit that his most frequent companion in that library was a bottle. What does your typical day look like?

He laughed. The sound was completely devoid of mirth and was only a laugh by the barest of definitions. “You do know what I do, what I control?” He laughed again. It was as cold as the last one. “There is no such thing as a typical day for a captain of the Montague family. Yes, I wake up and eat twice a day. But the time that fills those few constants is as variable as is possible in this world.”

“Why, before I came here, I tortured a man for information on a plot I think he might be planning. I haven’t the concrete proof yet, but I know it’s there, somewhere.” Hassan leaned forward, bearing down on the person across from him like an angel of death waiting to whisk away some unlucky soul.

“Yesterday, however?” He questioned without pausing for an answer. “Yesterday I was in meetings from dawn until dusk, hearing about more problems than I can possibly ever address. I wasn’t even allowed a bottle to help paint the problems into clarity. I was pointed to an impossible mess of problems and told to fix them.”

He shook his head. “And how can I fix them? I cannot look at them with clear eyes when possibilities tie themselves into knots in front of me.” Anxious fingers whirled around the man’s head as he tried to convey the chaos held inside.

“And so it is each and every day,” Hassan says. “I cannot escape the tasks given and I cannot fix the problems that arise with those tasks.” He tried to smile, though it was a desperate thing. “How can I have a typical day when each dawn is lost among the problems that arise from it?” What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

Hassan stiffened and stared at the interviewer with a cold gaze. “I fail to see why this is relevant information to you and whatever publication you represent.” His fingers itched for the knife hidden in his boot and Hassan was forced to tighten his hands on the armrest to avoid planting it into the person across from him.

He took a deep breath. And then he took another just so his body stopped itching with the desire to spill blood. There is a time and a place for every action, Hassan reminded himself. This is neither the time nor the place.

“I will tell you,” Hassan slowly says to the person across from him. “But this is on a strictly confidential basis. If you spread this, you will regret it.” He cracked his neck, the sound sharp in the heavy air of the room. And then he opened his mouth and began.

“I was sixteen when this happened. I had been successful enough that my father thought I could be trusted to conduct a full investigation into a series of protests that had disrupted trade.” Hassan snorted, the sound shocking in its unusuality. “The Itani family has an odd training program, I won’t deny that.”

The sudden flood of mirth fades as quickly as quickly as it comes. “I won’t give you the gory details. Not for my own sake, but for the person I got killed. I was wrong, you see, and a girl close enough to be like a sister to me paid the price. I visit her grave as often as I can, and I tell her what’s happening around Verona. It can help lay things into an order I wasn’t able to see by myself.” A small smile briefly flew across Hassan’s face. It was heartbreaking in its intensity and pulled at the heartstrings of whomever saw it before it was quickly crushed under the heel of steel control. “The dead are also the best secret-keepers we have. It would be a waste to not utilize that skill.” What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

Hassan looked blankly ahead, fixing the wall with a heavy gaze. Despite his silence, his mind spun, trying to create an answer that could both tell the truth and keep his secrets tucked away in their dark closet. The answer was there, heavy on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t know if he wanted this stranger, this invader, to look into his carefully-ordered life and pick it apart as was no doubt inevitable.

“You know this answer. It’s unavoidable for someone in your position, but perhaps I shall tell you the story anyways. It is no doubt better than letting you listen to the rumors that fly low and heavy across this city.” He fixed the person across from him with a glare. “If you tell anyone of this, just as if you tell anyone of the previous question, I shall know. And I can only promise that you will be very sorry.”

He sighed, intensity lost as soon as it came. He was slumped in his chair and tried to ignore his fingers and heart that itched for a bottle.

“I was always destined for the throne I hold, and though it causes me pain each time I sit upon it, I cannot help but find comfort in it. But there are no true kings, not anymore, so I could not simply expect my father to hand me this position. This is why when I was asked to kill a boy, I couldn’t say no.”

“I was thirteen when my father called me into the office and told me it was time to prove I was an Itani. There was a boy who was spreading lies about the Montague family. Usually, my father would have let this slide. But this boy was smart, and he knew exactly how to use words to paint the exact picture he wanted. And worse, he was gaining traction.”

“He said he hoped I’d be able to take care of the problem before he was forced to bring it to Lord Montague’s attention. He handed me a picture, a name, and a knife, and told me to take care of it.”

“I found the boy’s family before I found him. I claimed I was an admirer of his work and they joyfully pointed me to where he conducted his work. I entered that broken-down building, unfit though it was for rat and beast. The boy looked up at me with green eyes alight in passion. Those same green eyes quickly faded and I lunged forward and buried my knife into his throat.”

“He couldn’t say much, not as he bled out on that filthy floor. But I held him as he passed, and I couldn’t help the gentle song that poured from my lips.”

Hassan shuddered, rubbing his arms as if he can stave off the scent of blood that still haunted his nose. He composed himself after a brief moment, spine so straight it seemed likely to snap.

“It wasn’t until afterwards that I learned the boy was a month older than I was at the time. His name was Ali and he carried a locket with the photo of his younger sister inside.” A wry smile twisted Hassan’s handsome face. “I send her money each month, posing as Ali. I don’t think she’s figured it out yet. As far as she knows, he moved to a different city to pursue a lucrative career as an author.” The smile shifted into something tragic as Hassan continued.

“I still have the locket, you know. I couldn’t give it back to the family without incriminating myself. So it’s currently tucked away in an old trunk that hasn’t been opened in years. Maybe one day I’ll be able to decide what to do with it.” What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

Hassan rolled his eyes. It was the first display of the man under the shell of the captain that the interviewer saw. It was a shame that the interview was so near its end. “I am hardly surprised, though the fact that it has come to this causes me no small amount of pain.”

He leaned forward, fingers steepled and legs crossed as he tried to convey his beliefs without spilling any secrets. “I cannot tell you why it doesn’t surprise me, but even a citizen such as yourself must know that the tensions that have frayed the bonds of friendship and loyalty had to eventually reach a boiling point.” A brief flicker of sorrow sneaked across Hassan’s brow. “I am truly sorry it was Alvise that served as the catalyst for the fire we now find ourselves in. But we cannot allow the past to cloud our vision, as difficult as that may be. We must simply survive.” Extras:

It’s not my playlist, but the Spotify playlist Hamlet; The Fresh Prince of Denmarkdid not stop playing through the entire writing process of this app.

[love4kpopstars]

Hidden feelings- Jungkook

AN: Sooo Im back with one shot and I hope you’ll enjoy it. Sorry for any mistakes.

Genere: Romance

WC: 3407 (hehe) ENJOY

Summary:  

(CR TO OWNERS< GIF NOT MINE)

Jeon Jungkook- everyone knew this name. The mst popular guy at school and of course capitan of the school’s football team. Jeon is the exact opposite of you. Shy, nice and not wantig to be in the centre of other’s attention. It was cliché but every girll dreamed about him. He was charrming, handsome and sexy. No matter how much you wanted o hide it from yourself you also had a crush on him. But how can you not when he looks so good everyday and his smile is to die for. Jungkook always dated the popular girls -obviously- but it never was longer than 3 months. Everyoe in the school including the teachers loved him. Fortunately or maybe unfortunately you were in the ame class so even if you tried to forget abut him or uncrush it was simply impossible. You and him never really talked besides that one time when in your sophomore year you two had to do a project together. that’s when you two talked and spend a lot time together and also this is the time when you started having  crush on him. Now it was only a little glance in the corridor or  question if he can brrow a pen. It didn’t really bother you because as a person that doesn’t like too much attention you knew that it was better to kee away from JungKook before some stupid girl will start to get n yur nerves and taunt you.

You started our day as usual, You woke u at 6:20 am and started gettig ready. You did your everyday gentle makeup, wore your gasses and just like any other day wore jeans withwthe top and some black jacket. At 7:20 you were ready to go out. School was only 10 minutes away from your home so you took your time and went to grab a coffe. When you got to school you saw your best friend Jun.

- Hi Jun. How are you?- You asked as ou came up to your friend

- Ah Y/N hi. I’m great and you?- He greeted you with a big smile.

- I’m good too.- You smiled back at him.

- God it feels like I haven’t seen you in weeks.- Jun laughed.

- Yeah we haven’t seen each other for 2 day.- You said sarcastically.

- It’s way too long. Oh I see you bought me coffe.- He said as he took your coffe away.

He was right though you alwayss bought coffe but could only drink a lttle bit and then he would finish it. You two went inside and waited for the first lesson to start. You still  had 10 minute beforee it would start so you tarted reading a book you were currently in the middle of. You don’t know when but the bell ran and the teacher was already in the classroom. Soon you heard thee door open and you lifted your head and saw no ne else but him. Jeon Jungkook. You felt your cheek started getting hot and you quickly looked down. He sat in his seat right behind you. You lifted your head again only to see Jun making fun f you. He knew about your crush on Jungkook and he loved teasig you about it.

- Jun focus!- Ms. Lee scolded him and you stuck your tongue out.

After the class ended you went on with your day as usually. Nothing outstanding really happened. It was finally lunch break, you and Jund were talking about everythng and nothing. In about 5 minutes you saw one f Jungkook’s friend coming in your direction.

- Hi Jun, Y/N.- The boy greeted both of you. You were surprised that he remembered your name.

Jun was this person that got along with everyone and had a lot of friends. He was friends with some of Jungkooks so that’s probably why he knew your name.

- Sup Minjae.- Jun greeted him back and you simply smiled at the boy.

- So Jun I don’t know if you heard but this weekend there will be a party. It’s my birthday and I wanted to invite you. And you too Y/N.- He informed while smiling.

You almost chocked when you heard him say that you are invited.

-That’s great. We’ll be there.- Jun assured his friend.

- Great. Saturday at 8pm sharp.- He smiled for the last time before going back to the resst of hiss friends.

- Are you crazy. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t even knw them that well. No way I’m no going.- You started telling Jun.

- What? Come on Y/N. Minjae invite you himself.  You never go ut on weekedns. Come with me it will be fun I swear. They are really fun.- Your friend tried cnvincing you.

- I have nothing to wear and you know I’m not the party kinda girl.- You tried telling Jun.

- We will go shopping and if you’ll be bored or uncrmfortable we’ll leave.- He looked at ou with puppy eyes.

-Ughhhhh...Fine.- You finally agreed.

- Yes!- He was really happy.

As the day came to an end you decided to go to the library to do your homework. You sat at the table alone and fell into your world of boks and thoughts. You had yur headphones on and your favourite songs playing. After 20 minutes you decided to take a brak and just relax. You closed your eyes and sat there for a little bit. Then you heard some shuffling arunf near you. You stopped the music and opened your eye to see Jungkook sitting in front of you.

-Hope it’s okay if I sit here- He smiled at you. Half asking and half saying.

-Ummm… yeah of course.- You answerd quietly.

You didn’t really konw what to do. You just sat there like a fool and stared at him. You noticed that he was looking at you too and it wasn’t just a normal look. You don’t really know how to decribe it but it was different. After a while you took your things an left, you could swear that you saw hm smile at you as you were leaving.

The rest of te week went smoothly, othing happend and before you knew it was aleady Friday. You and Jun greed to go shopping so that you can buy omehing for yourself you wear to the party. After 2 hours of looking you wanted to give up there was nthing that caught your attention. You and your friend decided to get something to eat and look again.

- I can’t belive that after 2 hours you still haven’t found what you’re ging to wear.- Jun nagged jokingly.

- Well sorry that everything that we looked at didn’t suit my style.- You answerd.

- Don’t worry I’m sure we’ll find something.- He tried to cheer you up.

- I hope so.- You said and the two of you started eating.

- Oh look Y/N it’s Jungkook.- Jun pointed with his head and you looked behind.

- Yeah.- A little smile fund its way to your face as soon as you saw him.

- Stop blushing.- Jun teased.

-I’m not. - You rolled your eyes at his response.

- Anyways are you going to do anything​? - Your fried asked.

-About what?- You asked confused.

-About your crush on Jungkook.- He looked at you with a questioning look.

-Why would I. It’s not like he likes me back or anythng.- You looked sad.

- Hey okay let’s not talk about this and let’s look for something again.- Jun said as he grabbed you and yu two started walking towards the shops.

Finally after another hour you found something that you liked. Sleeveless, white top and and blak leather pants. It looked really good n you and you already had planned n how to complete this look. You thanked Jun for helping you and after saying your godbyes you went home. For the rest f the day you were watching movies and reading books. When you woke up on Saturday you cleand your room and did your homework. Around 5:30 pm you started getting ready. First you took a shower and then did your hair. You went for little beach waves. After that was ready you did your makeup. You wore contacts so you decided on adding some eyeshadow and dark lips. You finally put on your outfit, you completed th look with a black leather jacket ad white slip ons. After you were ready you called your friend and asked if he was ready to go. You met with him at 7:40, he asked his brother to give us a ride and we were at Minjae’s place at 8 pm sharp.

As soon as you went inside you noticed all of Jungkook’s frieds and him. He looked like a star and as if the light was only on him. He saw you and you two made eye contact. When you and Jun were coming up to say hi to his friends everyone looked so shocked when they saw you. ‘You look amazing’, ‘Wow’, were only a coupe of thing thath people sad when they saw you. At first you felt uncomfortable but then you gained confidence and started enjoying yourself. After couple of hours of dancing and meeting new people you had to go to the bathroom. After you finished your buisness you saw staris thath led to rooftop. You decided to go up and get se fresh air. As you tood thereand looked at the view you heard some noise, at first you got scared ut as you looked what it was you saw Jungkook standing at the edge of the rooftop, it looked as if he was abou to fall over so you quickly ran up to him and held him. He turned around and met your eyes.

-Y/N...- He mutterd and smiled.

- Yes it’s me. Jungkook you’re drunk. Let’s go sit somewhere.- You sugessted.

You took him to the corner of the rooftop and sat there with him. The two of you stayed like thath for a while in a complete silnce. Then you heard Jungkook humming. Even th sounded so angelic. You looked at him and  he looked at you.

(recomed listening to this while reading this scene)

-Yoy know this song?- He asked and started singing.

- Yeah.- You whisperd.

-Good. I love this song.- He said with his big, beautiful smile.

- Me too.- You smiled also.

You could  feel his eyes on you, you tried to ignore it but it was hard.

- We should go back.- You said as you looked at him again.

- Let’s stay a little longer.- He grabbed your hand.

You stumbled a litte and fell on him. As you tried to move away ou felt soething wam on your lips. It took you a second to realise what is happening. But when it struck you, you didn’t konw what to do. He was kissing you. Jeon Jungkook was kissing YOU. After a while you pulled away frm him, shocked at what has just happened. You quickly stood up and ran downstairs. When you found Jun you told him you wanted to leave, he saw that you were jittery. He took his and your jacket and you two left. Bfore thath you informed Minjae about Jungkook being on the rooftop. On your way out you bumped into someone, quickly mutterd sorry and left. On your way home you told Jun what happend with Jungkook on the rooftop and all he could say was ‘wow’. After you got home you changed into pj’s and went to lie on your bed. You culdn’t stop thinking about Jungkook and his lips on yours. It felt like a movie but also like a dream thath you’ll wake up frm in a little bit. You decided to talk with him on Monday about it. You were hoping that maybe...maybe there will be something more. Sunday was a lazy day for you. You did what you always do. Read books and watch some movies.

Next day you woke up pretty early. You were nervous but also excited. You couldn’t wait to meet Jungkok and talk with him. When you got to school you tried looking fr him but it was unsucessful. At the lunch break you saw him in the corridor. He was alone. Perfect opportunity to talk. You went in his direction and saw him looking at you and cleary he saw you but as soon as you were about to say smething he just turned arund no ‘Hi’ n smile no nothing. It hurt you. He was like that for the rest of the week, and the next week, and the week fter that. After a month yu couldn’t belive how childish he was. He igored you for a moth. You were heaartbroken and couldn’t belive how stuid you were to think there could be something more between you two. You slowly started to forget about him and the crush you had.

- I can’t belive how selfish and childish he is.- Jun was annoyed at Jungkook’s behaviour.

-I know, but it’s also my fault thath thought, like a fool, thath he might like me.- You agreed with your friend.

- I mean how could he do something like thath to you and then just ignre you!- Jun was getting more angry.

- Jun calm down, it’s fine. I’m over it now.- You assured your friend.

-Umm...Hey, can I intrrupt you?- You heard a male voice, both you and Jun looked at the person that said it.

- Yes.- You smply answerd.

-Can I talk to you Y/N in private.- The guy asked.

-Sure.- You stood up and followed him away from Jun.

-I’m not sure if you know me but well I got  a question.- He started.

- I do know you Shin. You’re Jun’s friend. I remember we met some time ago and I bumped into you at the party.- You smiled.

- Well i’m glad then. I wanted to ask if it will be alright if I ask you to go out on a date with me​?- He looked at you with worried look.

-What? Me? Really, I’m surprised. I didn’t know you liked me.-You couldn’t hide your confusion.

-Yeah I really like you, I think you are very pretty and funny.- He bluhshed.

- Sure, why not.- You patted his shoulder and smiled.

-Great. I’ll pick you up at 6 pm.- You never saw a bigger smile than his.

You went back to Jun and told him that Shin just asked you out and thath you agreed. To wich your friend reacted positively. Shin seemed to be a really sweet guy and you wanted o do something that will help you forget Jungkook definetevly.

-Guys you won’t belive it. She agreed.-Shin annoucd t his friends.

-What are you talking about?- They asked simultaneously.

-Y/N, I asked her out and she said yes.- He answerd happily.

When Jungkook hearg thath smething broke in him. He got angry and jaelous. Hecouldn’t belive how you could’ve said yes. He wanted to talk to you about this but he cold not find you anywhere. The truth was Jungkook liked you. A lot. Ever since the project you two did together but he was too scaared to tell you. He cared too much about his reputation and also that you wouldn’t want to date. But he just realised how stupid he was. Even though he was drunk thath night he remembers what happened between you and him.

Later that day you started getting ready for your date with Shin. You chose a simple dress with floral dress and slip ons. You did a gentle makeup and tied your hair in a ponytail. You went with Shin to a nerbay coffe shop. You talked a lot with him. He wa actually very sweet and gentle. He ade forget about Jungkook for a long while. After the date ended he walked you home and kissed your forehead. Around 9 pm you heard knocking on your door. You thought it might be Jun but oh boy were you wrong.

-Y/N we need to talk.-Jungkook said as you opend the door.

-What are you doing here?- You asked with annoyend and surprisein your voice.

- I want to talk to you.- He repeated.

- Well I don’t s go away.- You wanted to close the door but he stopped you.

-About what happed at the party...- He started.

- HAHA the party….nothing happened. When I wanted to talk you avoided me and ignored me. Now after 2 months you can go and fuck yourself. You know wha I knew you were an asshole but I never imagined you would be thath awful. I was such a fool to fall for you. But you know what I’m glad thath I’m over you so stop coming here aand trying t talk to me at school.- You straight up told him what you think about him and closed the door.

Jungkook did as you wishd he didn’t get in your way anymore and it went back to the way it was before. You two didn’t talk nor look at each other.You started spending more time with Shin and really started to like him but the only problem was that  not in the way he would want.

-Shin, listen to me. You are great, ou are sweet, gentle and loving and I reall like you...- You started.

-But you don’t like me in that way, you like me as a friend.- He finished.

-I’m sorry...-You looked at the ground due to the bad feeling you had inside you right now.

-Truth is Y/N the day I asked you out, I did it to make Jungkook realise his mistake. I knew you loved him and I know that you tw kissed at the party. But I also knew that he wouldn’t do anything about it. I really do ike you I ner lied about that but I just knew that I had no chance. I just wanted to help my friend.- He explained.

- Shin you….you are amazing. But why would you help him.-You conyinued t ask.

- Because he loves you too Y/N, ever since thath project you two did. He fell for you but wast to sacred to say anything.- Shin looked at you with a warm but sad smile.

You hugged him and thanked him for telling you the truth. You went t look for Jungkook and mt with Jun on the way. You asked if he has seen him but he couldn’t answer becasue he was interrupted by an annoucment cominf frm the school’s speaker.

I know I’m stupid and that you don’t want to listen r see me. Bu please listen to this at least. I know you may think I’m a jackass and a coward fr avoiding the topic oof what happend between us. And I know you’re probably right but when I see you I caan’t help but act like a fool and try to act cool but that’s because I love you. I feel for you head over heals whe we were assigned to do the damn project. Ever since then you are the only one on my mind and I can’t go on with my day if I don’t see you. I loe seeing you smile and laugh but when someone else makes you laugh i get jaelous and when I see you with other guys I just wan to came up to you and screaam thath you are mine and that i don’t want to lose you. Y/N did you hear me? I LOVE YOU AND I DON’T WANT TO LOSE AGAIN!!

You were standing there lika a fool with tears in your eyes. You wanted to run and when you turned you saw him. Standing there with smile on his fac, looking at you.

-And what are lauging at you fool?- You asked while smiling.

- Just happy to see you.- He answerd.

-Are you going to just stand there and smie or will you finally do something.- You laughed and so did he.

He quickly came up to you, grabbed your head, looked you deep in the eye and….Kissed you.

-I love you Y/N.- He said while caressing your head.

-I love you too Jungkook.- You said back and smiled.

-I’ve been waiting for this so long.- He truly felt happy that he revealed his hidden feelings.

REQUEST ARE OPEN. GIVE ME IDEAS!!!!

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 6 - Hurts to Be Alone

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

The day has come for names to be entered and names to be called from the Goblet of Fire. 

Fred ponders a relationship till then overlooked. 

Hermione finds her hopes for the year crumbling. 

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note: It’s a long one, so strap in lovelies! 

I update every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 5

 Take from me what you can hold The things I need, already sold I'll try to be somebody else Or find new ways to be myself

 It was warm in the messy confines of Fred’s dormitory that Saturday morning. Every day the stove placed in the center of the room heated the small space perfectly, making the thought of leaving his bed inconceivable. Today was no different from any other day. Rolling over onto his side, Fred pulled back the curtains surrounding his bed and squinted as the sunlight assaulted his eyes. The grounds were grey and hazy. Clouds sat low and full in the sky, threatening to drop heavy rain at any moment. Fred watched a single droplet of condensation make its slow descent down the windowpane before letting the curtain fall back into place. Encompassed in darkness once again, he closed his eyes. Today was the day.

“Oi! Freddie! Get out of bed, you lazy arse—" George laughed, hitting the curtains near his face “—It’s already half past ten!”

Half past ten? Had he really slept that late? Usually he was the early riser between him and his brother – always waking up first to putz around until the rest of the world joined him. But his eyes didn’t finally close until nearly four in the morning after returning to the tower from his nighttime stroll with Granger. The moment his head hit the pillow he couldn’t stop thinking about the goblet and the tournament, and most importantly the money. Merlin, they needed that money. Then of course there was the thought of a small bushy-haired second year Granger sneaking into Professor Snape’s office. Every time he tried to clear his mind, visions of the determined look on her face as she tiptoed into the greasy professor’s private store of ingredients filled his head.

“Seriously, get up! I’m hungry and I will leave you!” George threatened, pulling back the curtains completely, blinding Fred in the process. He let out a startled cry.

“Up!” George said exasperatedly, placing his hands on his hips. Fred tried very hard not to laugh at his brother but couldn’t help it.

“What’s so funny?” George asked, leaning further into one hip.

“I hate to break it to you brother, but you may as well be mum right now,” informed Fred as he sat up.

George looked from Fred to his hands placed stubbornly on his hips and gasped.

“Dear god, all this time I was worried about turning into dad, and somewhere along the way I’ve turned into mum!” cried George, mortified at his realization.

“Well, as long as you can cook like her, I’m not complaining. Do you think you’ll wear the apron too?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny,” George replied.

Fred pulled his covers back and swung his legs off the bed. His eyes felt heavy and gritty, like they were full of sand. Stupid Granger with her curly hair and her freckly nose, wandering the castle late at night. It was her fault that he hadn’t slept well. He stood and stretched his arms high above his head, feeling the muscles in his back give and pull. He really needed to start exercising again. With the quidditch season canceled due to the tournament, there was really no reason for him and George to go out flying and hit bludgers every day. He missed it and so did his body, as he could already feel himself getting weaker. With a yawn, he walked over to his trunk and grabbed some clothes.

“Ready for today, Freddie ol’ boy?” asked George. He was pacing the small dormitory, excitement coursing through him.

“Yeah,” Fred responded, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Just yeah? Come on! We’re about to make history brother! The brilliant Weasley twins that fooled Dumbledore himself!” George grabbed Fred by the shoulders and shook him. Fred rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.

“Well when that happens you can have all the fame and glory. As long as I get to keep all the gold,” wagered Fred, slipping his shoes on and pulling a jumper on as well. He grabbed his robes and slipped his arms through the sleeves as he headed towards the door, George following closely behind him.

They walked towards the Great Hall, George jabbering a mile a minute about what people would say when they managed to get their names in at only sixteen years old. As they grew nearer, Fred’s nerves began to take over. What if it didn’t work? What if they failed? Why hadn’t they thought of an alternative incase the aging potion didn’t work? Fred could feel the small glass vial in his pocket, bouncing off his thigh as they descended the staircase. Absentmindedly he slipped his hand into the pocket of his robe and palmed the small vessel. His stomach flipped and his hand grew sweaty around the glass. He retracted his hand quickly, a stinging sensation lasting on his fingers tips as if the vial had burned his flesh. Before he knew it, they were at the entrance of the Great Hall and the Goblet of Fire stood before them. Students, Hogwarts and visiting schools alike, filled the entrance space. Some sat on the floor, others stood casually, but all watched the goblet as each brave individual walked up and placed their name into its glowing depths. Fred of course, had seen the goblet the night before at dinner, but that morning it stood more ominous and magnificent than before. Carved out of an ancient wood, it stood solid and archaic. A crystal blue light emanated from within it, swirling up every time someone placed a slip of parchment inside.

“There they are!” Fred heard his younger brother shout and turned to his left. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were headed in their direction, Ron leading the pack with great enthusiasm.

“Do you have it?” Ron asked, referring to the potion that sat sagely in his and George’s pockets.

“Sure do,” Fred said, pushing his worries down and pulling the vial from his pocket with great flourish.

“And you think it’ll work?” Ron looked up at them expectantly.

“Of course, little brother. Cooked it up just last night,” George remarked cockily.

“Where’s mine?” Ron asked in confusion.

“Excuse me?” Fred and George scoffed together.

“You said that you’d make me some!” Ron exclaimed, his face scrunching in anger.

“Now why would we ever do a thing like that Georgie?” Fred asked, finding a comforting distraction in tormenting his baby brother.

“I don’t know Freddie. I think he’s gone mad,” George responded.

Fred shared a smile with George before looking back down at Ron, whose face was a brilliant shade of red. It was clear he felt cheated by them. It was true that in the excitement of it all, Fred and George agreed to make him a dose of aging potion as well. George had been all too ready, but Fred remembered just how livid their mum would be if they succeeded and her little dim-witted Ronikins somehow got his name chosen. She would have killed them. So, at Fred’s suggestion, they did not make any extra potion for Ron.

“Don’t worry Ronald, it’s not going to work anyways,” the haughty little voice of Hermione Granger piped up as she stepped forward and placed her hand on Ron’s shoulder. Fred eyed her hand curiously; he couldn’t recall ever seeing Granger touch Ron before, aside from hitting him of course.

“Oh really? And why is that Granger?” George swooped in, coming around to her side.

“Yeah, Granger. Why?” asked Fred. He followed his twin’s lead, pushing past Ron so they surrounded the young witch. He hoped his voice held the same cock-sure confidence that George’s did, for beneath it all he secretly hoped to know exactly why she didn’t think it would work. Hermione scoffed and pointed towards the goblet to their left.

“Do you see that surrounding the Goblet? —" She moved her hand, mimicking the circular shape of the glowing blue line on the stone floor “—That is an age line. Professor Dumbledore drew it himself.”

“So?” Fred asked indignantly. He looked around and noticed a crowd had begun to form, watching the conversation between them and the brightest witch of their age. Fred steeled himself, unwilling to look like a nervous prat in front of all his peers.

Hermione scoffed again. “So, only someone as pathetically dimwitted as yourselves would think that it could possibly be fooled by something as simple as an aging potion.”

“Ahhhh but that’s why it’s so brilliant, Granger,” George laughed, leaning in.

“Because it’s so pathetically dim-witted,” finished Fred, gripping the vial of aging potion tighter in his palm. The pair stepped up to the blue line, all eyes trained on them as they uncorked their vials in synchronized flair.

“Ready Freddie?”

Fred took a deep breath and looked at his brother before turning back to the potion in his hand. “Ready Georgie.”

“Bottoms up!” the two exclaimed before tipping the vials past their lips. The cool liquid slid down Fred’s throat with ease, settling in his stomach in a warm pool. Fred tried to feel if the potion had worked. He certainly didn’t feel any older. Although why would he? It was only supposed to age them by a few months. Then, taking quite literally a leap of faith, he hopped over the line. Feet planted firmly onto the concrete; Fred let out a breath of relief when he met no resistance. Whoops and whistles erupted from the room as Fred and George shared a small silent victory. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed the small slip of parchment with his name on it and locked eyes with George as their hands hovered over the goblet. With a nod, they let go. The papers floated into the blue fire. Fred held his breath and…nothing. His heart lifted with joy; they had done it! He couldn’t believe it! Turning towards the crowd, he raised his fists above his head as cheers continued. Everyone was clapping; everyone except Hermione Granger.

She smirked at him—a secret only she was partial to written on her face. Then he felt a strong grip around his middle. Like a giant’s hand it lifted him into the air and threw him across the room. Fred landed hard on the ground, cushioned only partially by another body who turned out to be George. Except it wasn’t really George. He was older and grey, with a long beard. Horrified, Fred reached up and felt his own face. Sure enough, his hands found long scraggly whiskers. The room, which previously roared with cheers of triumph, had gone silent. However, the silence did not last for long. Very quickly, laughter took its place.

“You said it would work!” Fred shouted at George, leaping forward, and wrestling him backwards.

“You agreed with me!” George retorted, rolling them over so he was on top, knee placed in Fred’s chest as he stubbornly tried to knock George upside the head.

“Gentlemen!” The stern voice of Professor McGonagall resonated through the entrance to the Great Hall. Fred and George froze. Their head of house stood above them – dark hair pulled into a severe bun at the nape of her neck, and arms crossed disapprovingly. A thick scowl marked her face.

“I suggest the two of you take yourselves up to the hospital wing and quit making a fool of yourselves and your house, before I feel inclined to subtract five points from each of you.” Her eyes narrowed behind her spectacles as she waited for them to stand. Slowly Fred drug himself to his feet and held out a hand for George. His brother took it reluctantly. Neither of them enjoyed the long walk of shame down the halls on their way to the hospital wing. Giggles followed; mocking them as they went. Of course, the two did their best to play the faux pas off as if it were nothing. They winked and waved at those they passed, knowing that in the grand scheme of things it really could be worse.

Several hours later Fred and George were still in the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey had been kind enough to allow them to wait there as they made the slow transition from old men to teenagers. He and George were on good terms once again as they were never actually mad at each other in the first place. They even found a way to laugh at the position they had gotten themselves into. The two were very pleased to see that they would, in fact, one day be able to grow beards as glorious as their headmaster himself. George made a comment about how handsome they were, even at age eighty. Fred joked that they would still be able to woo the ladies whilst in their nursing homes. They laughed. Now George lay dozing across the room in his bed and Fred sat twiddling his fingers, bored out of his mind. He thoughts drifted but never landed on a single topic as he stared at the ceiling above him. So far lost in his head, he didn’t even notice someone entering the room until a hand on his shoulder startled him out of his stupor.

“There you are.” Angelina smiled. Fred smiled back scooting over on the small hospital bed for Angelina to sit. Effortlessly she slid in next to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Come to visit me in my time of need?” asked Fred smugly.

“More like I heard what happened and had to see for myself—” smirked Angelina “—You look ridiculous by the way.

Fred picked up a tray from his bedside table and held it in front of his face. In the shiny metal he could just make out his warped reflection staring back at him. He certainly did look ridiculous. His usually bright ginger hair was speckled with patches of snow white. The beard was halfway gone, leaving long white mutton chops on the sides of his face. There was still the faintest trace of wrinkles near his eyes, but they had almost completely disappeared on the rest of his face. Fred couldn’t help but laugh at just how hilarious he looked. So hilarious, that he began to think of ways to replicate the look for a possible W.W.W. product.

“When I heard what happened I was devastated that I hadn’t been there to see it myself,” teased Angelina.

“Well I’m glad you weren’t. You do not need that kind of leverage over me. It’s bad enough that Hermione—”

“Hermione?”

“Granger—” Fred corrected himself “—she told us from the start that it wasn’t going to work. Looks like she was right. Like always.” He rolled his eyes.

“Since when do you spend time with the resident Golden Girl?” Angelina asked, her face one of curiosity.

“I don’t really. It was more just a thing in passing. You know how she always has to give her opinion,” responded Fred picking at the skin around his thumb. “So, if you weren’t there this morning, where were you?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I was out on the pitch, getting in some practice. It’s absolutely rubbish that quidditch was canceled this year. I don’t know what to do with myself.” Angelina frowned.

“Well you did put your name into the goblet, didn’t you? You could be doing that this year,” Fred suggested, turning his head to look at her. The corners of her lips rose into a sweet smile.

“Yeah, maybe. D’you reckon I’d be good enough to win if I got chosen?”

“Of course!”

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely. I think you’re brilliant, you know that Angie.” Fred wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. Angelina rested her head on his chest and sighed. They sat there for a while. George’s soft snores lilted through the room, filling the silence, and Fred began to think again. It was nice having Angelina in his arms; it felt comfortable and easy. But there was an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, almost like the feeling he got when he made mum cry. Fred wracked his brain for why he would be feeling something like that but when he came up empty, he simply chocked it up to a side effect of the spell backfire.

“I’m not sleeping with you until you’re back to normal by the way,” said Angelina, breaking the silence.

“What?! That’s an absolute outrage Miss Johnson!” Fred sat up, positioning himself so he hovered over the pretty girl.

“Oh really?” She raised an eyebrow in playful defiance.

“Really. I won’t stand for it,” Fred jested.

“How about just a kiss then to compromise,” Angelina proposed.

“I guess. I’ll take what I can get,” Fred sighed dramatically, sending Angelina into a fit of giggles as Fred leaned down to press his lips gently to hers. It was a sweet kiss, just the soft brush of lips that lasted for a moment. When it ended Fred rolled onto his back and Angelina slipped her hand into his. The churning in his stomach returned. They laid there for a while, enjoying each other’s embrace, until Angelina stood and made her goodbyes. It wasn’t until she exited the hospital wing that George magically awoke.

“Ahhh young love,” sighed George, sitting up and stretching. “But wait, there seems to be trouble in paradise. What seems to be disrupting the natural chemistry of the happy couple?” he asked, his tone mocking but expression one of genuine concern.

“What are you talking about?” asked Fred, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Don’t play dumb with me Freddie; you’re too good at it.”

“Come now. We both know I’m the brains of this operation. Calling me dumb would just insult you more than me.”

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

“I’m not avoiding anything!”

“Ah and now he’s defensive.”

“I am NOT—” it was at that point Fred realized he was being defensive “—fine. Nothing is really…wrong exactly. It’s just things with Angelina, well I don’t—”

“—think you want to sleep with her anymore?” George finished his sentence for him, looking at Fred like he was an idiot.

“I don’t know. I think it’s just been an off day,” muttered Fred, rolling onto his side.

George raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to pout. I was merely suggesting that perhaps you’re getting cold feet because it’s obvious Angelina wants something more than just a quick shag in a secret passageway these days.”

Fred grimaced. “We shag once in the passageway behind Gregory the Smarmy and you never let me live it down!”

“Only because I had the unfortunate luck of walking in on it!”

The two stared at each other for a long moment before bursting into laughter. As their laughs trickled into contented sighs, the two laid back in their respective beds with a new-found ease.

“Do you really think she wants something more?” asked Fred, feeling the churning in his stomach begin again.

“You don’t see any of the girls I’m shagging coming in and holding my hand.”

Fred chuckled, “That’s because you’re not shagging anyone.”

“Well no, but still…”

“Yeah, still.”

Fred pondered on the thought for a while. Angelina Johnson wanted to be his girlfriend. He supposed he could do a lot worse. She was pretty – prettiest girl in their year if he was being honest, fun – she never ragged on him or George for being troublemakers, and she liked quidditch – probably more than he did. No, as far as girlfriends went, Angelina Johnson was probably the best possible option he could think of. So, despite the persistent churning in his stomach, he concluded that when the time came, he wouldn’t be opposed to calling Angelina his girlfriend. With that problem solved he moved onto his next issue. The money. How were they ever going to afford their dreams when they just lost their only other option? Ludo Bagman had yet to answer their owl and at this point they were beginning to think the leprechaun money mix-up might not have been a mix-up at all.

“What are we going to do now Georgie?” Fred asked, shifting his eyes from the ceiling to his twin.

“I don’t know mate. I’m not really a relationship expert,” laughed George.

Fred rolled his eyes with a smile. “I mean about the money you prat. The only reason we wanted to compete in the tournament was for the money. Now that it’s out of the picture, we’re at a bit of a loss.”

“Speak for yourself. I was in it for the fame and nothing more!” George joked before returning to a more serious note. “Don’t worry brother. We’ll figure something out. We always do. We’re much too clever to sit around and wait for a solution.” His words were reassuring but Fred knew George was just as disappointed as him. And the only thing worse than feeling hopeless was knowing his brother felt just as bad. Springing to his feet, Fred reached for his shoes.

“Come on then old man,” said Fred, tying his laces.

“Where are you going?” George asked in confusion.

“Not me – we. We are going to go have fun and forget about all this for a while.” Fred stood and threw on his robes before looking back at his twin who was now getting to his feet as well. Once George’s shoes were laced up and his robes were on, they exited the hospital wing. Fred glanced at his brother as they strolled down the halls and smirked. While his appearance was almost completely back to normal, grey still speckled George’s hair giving him a distinguished look. Perhaps that’s what they would look like in fifteen or twenty years when they were adults with jobs and families of their own.

“So, what’s on the agenda Freddie? A few Whizz Poppers in the prefects’ bath? Portable Swamp in Filch’s office? Some Ton-Tongue Toffee for the first years?” mused George as they strolled.

“Nope, flying,” Fred responded, steering them towards the quidditch pitch. George nodded in approval.

“Ahhh, some old school entertainment. Couldn’t think of anything better brother.”

 Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table with Harry and Ron, debating excitedly over who they thought the goblet would choose to compete in the tournament. Ron of course was certain Viktor Krum would be chosen for Durmstrang. They had witnessed the Bulgarian enter his name shortly after McGonagall sent the twins to the hospital wing after their…unfortunate mishap. Hermione smiled at the memory. Few things fill her with pure joy and apparently watching the Weasley twins completely and utterly embarrass themselves was one of them. They, of course, were making the best of the situation. The minute they sat down in the Great Hall they began making jokes at their own expense, beating everyone to the punch. It was annoyingly charming.

“But Krum is the obvious choice!” Ron bellowed, beating his fist down on the table for emphasis.

“On what grounds Ronald?” Hermione asked. She made sure to lean towards him as she spoke, taking up his full attention like she’d been instructed to do. She still wasn’t sure how good her roommates advise was, but it was certainly better than carrying on as she had been.

“Okay! That’s it! I can’t take it anymore,” exclaimed Lavender, throwing up her hands.

Hermione who had been quietly seated in the small windowsill reading from her arithmancy book, looked over to her roommate with mild interest.

“Lav, really. Just let it go. It doesn’t matter,” said Pavarti, brushing another coat of Wicked Witches’ Pigmy Puff Powder Blue nail polish onto her left thumb.

“No! I’m fed up with it!”

Hermione was just about to inquire as to who or what she was fed up with, when she made the gut-wrenching realization that Lavender was talking about her. Lavender Brown, the pretty fourth year with her golden-brown hair stomped in her direction in a huff. Crookshanks, who had been dozing peacefully in Hermione’s lap, leapt to his feet, and stared untrustingly at Lavender, his tail raised high swishing back and forth.

“Listen, Hermione, I realize not everyone has the fortitude to study as much as you do, but this really has to stop. I thought last year was bad, but at least you had the common decency to sleep during regular human hours!”

“Lav—”

“No! Someone needs to tell her,” said Lavender to Fay, who had very kindly tried to halt Lavender’s beratement. “You’re up at all hours of the night studying or mumbling to yourself under your breath the way you always do. You come and go from the room at the oddest hours. It’s interrupting with all our sleep! I know getting good marks is important to you, but you can’t possibly need to study this much!”

“I think what Lavender is trying to say—” said Fay, sending a pointed stare in Lavender’s direction “—is that we’re worried about you. What’s going on Hermione? You can tell us.”

Hermione looked to Fay in appreciation. She always liked Fay the most out of all her roommates. Fay Dunbar was a spunky girl who spent most of her time with their fifth roommate, a mousy ginger girl named Emmy, who hardly ever spoke. But that didn’t seem to matter as Fay did most of the talking for her, always chatting on about quidditch or Gobstones. While Lavender and Pavarti were interested in things Hermione labeled as silly, Fay was at least capable of conversation that didn’t lead to hair, clothes, boys, or a combination of all three. In fact, Fay’s goal to one day be an auror led to many interesting conversations about their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Now, for once she wished Fay had kept quiet. Lavender and Pavarti didn’t care why Hermione wasn’t sleeping these days. They only cared how it affected them. However, now that Fay had inquired on her well-being, she had to come up with something to say. For a moment she contemplated on just telling them the truth about her nightmares. But then an even better idea popped into her head. It was in that moment Hermione realized she could use Lavender’s own trivial interests to kill two birds with one stone. So, with a heavy sigh, Hermione placed her book down next to her and buried her face in her hands.

“I’m so sorry Lavender. It’s just that…well I’ve been having a bit of boy trouble…” Hermione trailed off, fighting off a satisfied smirk when Lavender’s eyes widened in interest.

“Ooooo,” squealed Lavender, rushing forward to sit on the rug in front of Hermione. Pavarti joined her, looking equally as excited. “Hermione Granger having boy troubles? I never would have imagined!”

Even Fey and Emmy perked up from their beds, looking to Hermione with interest. Hermione took a deep breath, situating herself so sat upright, Crookshanks lying comfortable in her lap again.

“Well I guess it all started with this dream I had…”

Hermione went on to paint a lamenting tale of girl likes boy, girl thinks boy might like her, but then boy makes stupid comment about another girl. She stretched the story to encapsule the whole two months they’d been in school, instead of merely the past forty-eight hours, but kept almost all the details the same. Hermione figured it couldn’t hurt to seek advice about her recent Ron-related issue, and she also felt Lavender might be kinder about her unusual sleeping patterns if it were over something she could relate to – such as a boy. Looking at the contemplative looks on Lavender and Pavarti’s faces, she knew she had been right.

“Oh Hermione, we had no idea!” Lavender exclaimed, pushing up onto her knees and wrapping her arms around Hermione in a big hug. Hermione, unused to such physical contact, stiffened for a moment before reciprocating the kind gesture.

“Boys are so stupid!” Pavarti cried, rolling her eyes, and falling onto her back in the middle of the rug.

“I don’t get it,” said Fay scrunching her eyebrows. “How do you know the dream was about Ron when you never saw his face?”

Hermione shrugged. “I had the same thought, but I came to the conclusion that there wasn’t really anyone else it could have been.”

“I don’t know…those older boys. Fred and George. They’re pretty cute,” remarked Emmy quietly with a giggle. The girls turned to Emmy with amazement at her declaration.

“Isn’t that considered incest or something?” Fay asked cheekily.

Emmy grabbed a pillow and threw it at her friend. “Not all gingers are related you twit!”

Fay laughed, using the beater bat beside her bed to block the pillow, sending it back towards Emmy.

“Hmmm Fred and George are cute, but they’re so unruly,” said Lavender scrunching her nose at the thought. Then, turning her attention back to Hermione she took a much more serious tone, “I’m glad you came to us with this problem Hermione. Really, I wish you had asked us sooner, but all the same I’m here to help now!”

Hermione braced herself for the advice that was about to come.

“I think what you need is a makeover!”

At the mention of a makeover, Pavarti perked up, propping herself on her elbows and smiling widely.

“I don’t know how comfortable I am with that Lavender…” said Hermione, suddenly regretting her decision to turn to her roommates for advice on the matter.

“You’re right. I don’t any of us could afford the amount of Sleekeazy’s it would take the tame your hair anyways—” Lavender bit her lip in thought as Hermione let the mild insult roll off her back “—oh! I’ve got it! You just need to make yourself known!”

“I’m pretty sure Ron knows who she is,” laughed Fay.

“Well yes, but only as a friend,” sighed Lavender in Fay’s direction. “What you need to do is make yourself known as a woman.” Lavender waggled her eyebrows at the word.

“A woman? How would I do that?” asked Hermione, finally intrigued by Lavender’s insight.

“It doesn’t have to be anything big. It can be small things like touching his shoulder, laughing at his jokes, standing close to him. Anything to make him notice you as something other than another one of his mates. His fascination with the French girls will fade eventually, but you have the opportunity to make a lasting impression.”

“Well, I suppose that doesn’t sound too hard.”

That whole morning she’d been attempting to follow Lavender’s advice. Every opportunity she encountered, she made sure to touch Ron in some small way. She stood close to him when walking from the common room to the Great Hall. And when they sat down at the Gryffindor table, she made sure to squeeze as close as possible to his side without it being odd.

“Yeah, are you about to tell us you know more about the inner workings of the Goblet of Fire than the rest of us?” asked Ginny, backing Hermione’s question up with a roll of her eyes.

“I bet you a week’s worth of chores this summer that Krum’s name gets called for Durmstrang,” challenged Ron to his sister. The fiery girl’s eyes lit up and she thrust out her hand.

“Make it a month and you’re on,” she countered. They shook hands.

“Hey Granger—” Hermione turned to her left at the sound of Fred’s voice “—bet you ten knuts that Ginny wins.”

Hermione shook her head, “I don’t gamble Frederick.”

“What? Too good for a little wager but not too good to steal?”

Hermione should have known she’d regret telling him about her second-year escapades. She just never assumed it would be so soon. By the time she ran into Fred in the hallway the night before, she had worked herself into such a frenzy over Ron, she really would have done anything for Fred’s approval. Now, she couldn’t understand why she would want his approval in the first place. Still, that didn’t stop her next words from tumbling from her mouth.

“Ten knuts and a week’s supply of sugar quills,” she said, before turning her attention back to her friends around her.

“Who do you think’ll get picked for Hogwarts?” asked Harry, picking at the remnants of his treacle tart.

“Well statistically, the Slytherins have an advantage,” stated Hermione. “They had the most students enter.”

The table around her collectively groaned.

“Well if it is one of the Slytherins I hope they lose,” grimaced Harry.

“Yea, I’d rather have Beauxbatons or Durmstrang win before giving the Slytherins one more thing to inflate their egos,” Seamus interjected across from them. They all laughed.

It was then that the expanse of the Great Hall tables cleared, catching Hermione off guard. Regretfully, she wished she had taken one more bite of her pumpkin pasty. Dumbledore stood, extinguishing all but a few of the candles in the room with a flick of his wand. Madame Maxime, headmistress of Beauxbatons and Igor Karkaroff remained seated at his sides looking stiff. Further down the table two ministry officials, Ludo Bagman and Bartemius Crouch wore very different expressions. Ludo Bagman appeared as though any moment he was going to bounce right out of his seat in excitement. Mister Crouch on the other hand, couldn’t look any more bored if he tried. With the Great Hall now cast in eerie opacity, the students were quite silent. The whole room sat on edge as they watched the stately Hogwarts headmaster levitate the Goblet of Fire through the hall till it was front and center for all to see.

“I do believe the goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate we have two minutes to spare,” declared the eccentric Headmaster. He then went on introduce Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, explaining they would be acting as impartial judges for the tournament along with the three headmasters. Hermione nodded, finding that incredibly fair and well thought out. Dumbledore then instructed that those whose names were called from the goblet would exit the Hall through a side door into the next chamber where they would wait for further instructions. After this last bit of information, the room returned to silence. All eyes remained on the goblet, the occasional student checked their watches, waiting for the longest two minutes of their lives to pass. Then, the icy blue light within the goblet transitioned to a brilliant red. So brilliant and alive it was if a fire burned deep inside of it. Sparks floated out from the top before a tongue of flames lapped through the air. The whole room gasped. When the flames were gone, the only thing remaining was a small bit of charred parchment floating down towards the stone floor.

Dumbledore caught the paper effortlessly and read from it before looking back into the crowd and decreeing in a boisterous voice, “The Durmstrang champion is, VIKTOR KRUM!”

The room erupted into applause, Ron’s being some of the loudest, rivaling all the Durmstrang students put together. Krum stood and walked to the front of the hall, his fists raised high in triumph and then disappeared into the next chamber. Hermione looked across from her to see Ginny’s head in her hands. Briefly she cast a glance in Fred’s direction. He was already looking at her.

“I expect those sugar quills by next Hogsmeade weekend Frederick,” said Hermione before turning back to the front of the room.

As soon as Krum disappeared into the adjoining chamber, the cheers died down and all eyes were back on the goblet in anticipation. They didn’t have to wait long. A few moments later, flames shot from the goblet, this time almost licking the ceiling.

“The champion for Beauxbatons is, FLEUR DELACOUR!” cried Dumbledore.

At the announcement, Harry and Ron lit up. Ron seemed even happier than when Viktor’s name was called, and Hermione felt a sinking feeling form in the pit of her stomach. Lavender and Pavarti caught her eye as Ron cheered, giving her a sympathetic look. Looking away from them, she watched as the girl, who uncannily resembled a Veela, gracefully glided up to the front of the room. Hermione glanced back at the rest of the students from Beauxbatons. They were devastated. Two girls who had not been chosen were in tears, a full meltdown threatening to occur. Hermione rolled her eyes so hard, she risked getting them stuck in the back of her head. So much for school spirit, she thought.

Once Fleur was gone from the room as well, everyone was once again watching the goblet. This was the moment they had really been waiting for – the Hogwarts champion. Flames shot up into the air for the third and final time, expelling another charred bit of parchment. It floated gently into Dumbledore’s hand. The headmaster spent a bit longer looking over the name this time, no doubt for added effect, before smiling and turning to the crowd.

“The champion for Hogwarts is, CEDRIC DIGGORY!”

The Hufflepuff table erupted into cheers so loud, you would have thought they were triple their size. They jumped and stomped and clapped more enthusiastically than anymore at Hogwarts had ever seen. Hermione clapped as well as the handsome Hufflepuff boy stood, all smiles as he walked to the front of the Great Hall. He shook Dumbledore’s hand enthusiastically and headed towards the door behind the teacher’s table. The cheering continued for some time, only halting when Dumbledore called for attention. Pleasantly, Hermione thought of how excited Diggory’s dad would be, having seen just how proud a father he was that summer.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore called elatedly. “We now have our three champions and I am hoping that each and every one of you will carry on this enthusiasm throughout the year. Your support can make—" his voice cut off. Students gasped in surprise as the goblet began to glow for a fourth time. Hermione frowned; something wasn’t right. Sparks soared, a large flame shot into the air, and with it came a fourth piece of parchment. Dumbledore seized the parchment, his face blank. He stared at the name, and the room stood still.

Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat and spoke.

“Harry Potter.”

The room stayed silent, stunned by the name that had just left the headmaster’s mouth. Hermione turned and stared at her best friend. Her heart fell. His face was filled with shock and confusion as he stared back at her and then at Ron.

“I didn’t put my name in,” Harry stated to himself more than to them. Hermione was at a loss for words. What she wanted to say was that she believed him. That she knew that he would never put his name in, but her throat closed, and she froze.

At Harry’s delay, Dumbledore called his name again, louder and forbidding. Harry looked from Dumbledore to his two best friends, desperation emanating from every part of his being. His eyes pleaded with them, begged them for help.

“Harry, go up,” Hermione told him, finally finding her voice and wishing she could say something better; wishing he didn’t have to go but knowing it was the only thing he could do at the moment. Truthfully, she wanted to grab him and pull him out of the room. She wanted to look every last person in the eye, Dumbledore included, and tell them no. No, Harry Potter’s name was not called. Harry Potter’s name was not called, and he will not be competing. You’ve made a mistake.

She watched with teary eyes as Harry stood shakily and walked to the front. As he moved, students began to yell out in anger. Shouts of ‘cheat’ and outcries that he wasn’t ‘even seventeen yet’ were heard from every part of the Great Hall. Hermione looked away; she couldn’t watch her best friend walk into a death trap as students ridiculed him. Instead she stared blankly at the table in front of her and worried her lip. Maybe they wouldn’t let him compete. Clearly some kind of mistake or foul play was at hand here. Dumbledore was a rational man. He wouldn’t possibly send a fourteen-year-old boy to compete in a deadly tournament. It was just crazy! Yes, Dumbledore would fix this. He would protect Harry. Hermione continued to reason with herself, telling herself that things would be alright and that everything would turn out okay, until she felt Ron shaking her shoulder.

“You alright Hermione?” Ron asked, looking at her apprehensively.

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” she responded, running her hands over her hair which suddenly felt twice its normal size. It always seemed to do that when she was stressed. Ron nodded.

“Ready to go?” he pointed towards the large double door entrance of the Great Hall. Hermione looked between it and the side door Harry had disappeared through.

“Shouldn’t someone wait for Harry?” she suggested. Ron made a sour face.

“Nah, he’ll be alright. Who knows how long it’ll take anyway. Let’s just go back to the tower.” He rubbed at his nose, making the skin all pink and flushed. Hermione was hesitant to agree but Ron had a point. They had no idea how long Harry would be and of course they would be there in the tower when he got back. So, she got to her feet and walked with Ron back up to the tower. Upon arriving, Ron exited up the stairs to his room without a single word to her. This struck Hermione as very odd, but Ron’s problems were the least of her worries now. Instead she ran up to her room and pulled out the book she had checked out on the Triwizard Tournament at the beginning of the term. She was going to wait for Harry and while she did, she was going to do the thing she did best – research. She had to find out why this happened and how to get Harry out of it. Many hours later, when the common room was empty, all the other students having trickled off to bed, Hermione decided to turn in. It was half past one and Harry had yet to return but she figured she’d catch him in the morning. Merlin knew she would be awake.

The next morning Hermione arose at her usual ungodly hour, despite having stayed up so late, and went down to the common room to wait for Harry. Her nerves were still recovering from her nightly bad dream when she spotted him coming down the stairs looking very angry. She waved to him, but instead of greeting her back, he walked past her and through the portrait exit. Hermione stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and chased after him. On the second floor, she finally managed to catch up to him.

“Harry!” she called after the black-haired boy. He stopped, his shoulders slumping and then pulling back up, squaring himself. He turned around and faced her.

“What Hermione?” he asked, his tone short and filled with annoyance. Hermione took a step back, affronted by his tone. He hadn’t spoken to her like that since she told Professor McGonagall about the broomstick Sirius sent him third year. What had she done?

“What’s wrong?” she asked, realizing how dumb her question was the minute it left her mouth. But his immediate hostility had thrown her for a loop, and she hadn’t known what else to say.

“What’s wrong? Are you serious Hermione? What’s wrong?—" Harry looked at her as if she were as stupid as Crabbe and Goyle “—Let’s see: for one, my name was entered into the Goblet of Fire and called last night, now I’m competing in a tournament that is potentially deadly, and to top it all off my best friend thinks I had something to do with the whole thing!”

Ron. So that’s why Ronald was so angry the night before. It also explained why he hadn’t wanted to wait for Harry either.

“He what? What did he say?” Hermione asked, feeling like she could throttle the red headed dunce.

“He thinks I entered my name into the goblet! Or at least got someone else to do it and he’s mad that I didn’t tell him how I did it.” Harry ran his hands through his messy hair, revealing the scar on his forehead briefly before the dark locks fell back into place.

“Are you sure you have no idea how your name got entered?” Hermione asked, trying to make sense of it all.

“Are you serious?!” Harry exclaimed.

“What?” Hermione looked at her best friend in confusion, now feeling just about as stupid as Crabbe and Goyle. 

“You think I had something to do with this too!” he accused her, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Harry, I never said—"

“No, but you didn’t have to. Merlin, you’re just as bad as Ron! You know, I thought you’d at least believe me, but I guess I was wrong… Just leave me alone Hermione.” and with that Harry walked away leaving Hermione in the corridor alone and completely lost. She stormed back to the tower in a blinding rage, hoping that Ron hadn’t left for breakfast yet. Lucky for her the Weasley in question was sat in a chair with Seamus and Dean chatting and laughing as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Marching over, blood boiling, Hermione grabbed Ron by the ear and dragged him out of the common room and towards the corridor. She could hear Ron’s yelps of protest and see the strange looks from their fellow Gryffindors, but she didn’t care. When they were finally in the safety of the empty corridor, she released him.

“Bloody hell Hermione! What’s wrong with you?” Ron yelled, rubbing his ear.

“Did you seriously accuse Harry of putting his own name into the goblet?!” Hermione cried exasperatedly. Ron looked at her, his expression stony.

“I don’t think it Hermione, I know it.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“You know, this is typical of you Hermione!” Ron yelled back.

“What?!” Hermione responded, feeling like she had had enough whiplash that morning to last her a lifetime.

“You’re always against me! You never take my side!”

“I’d take your side more often if you weren’t always wrong Ronald!”

“Oh, I’m always wrong? You know, you’re not as smart as you like to think you are.”

“Well I think you’re being a horrible friend right now to Harry.” Hermione crossed her arms, ignoring the insult Ron had just accosted her with. She wasn’t there for herself. She was there for Harry.

“Well I think you’re being a horrible friend to me!”

“This isn’t about you Ronald!”

“It’s never about me! It’s always about Harry! It’s not enough that he’s the Boy Who Lived, now he’s had to go and make this about him!” Ron was red in the face now.

“He didn’t put his name in!” Hermione yelled, knowing she might as well be arguing with a wall at that point.

“You know, if you really feel that way then why don’t you go find Mr. Boy Wonder and talk to him!” Ron yelled with finality and stormed back into the common room.

Hermione felt exhausted. She had such high hopes for the year and now in a matter of twenty-four hours everything had completely fallen apart and somehow, she was the bad guy. Having both Harry and Ron mad at her wasn’t something she was unfamiliar with, but having them both mad at her and at each other was entirely new territory. Unsure of what to do with herself she walked towards the library like she usually did when Harry and Ron were upset with her and hoped it would serve her some kind of solace.

Chapter 7 >>

Taglist: 

@theworldisugly-22

[thehalfworld]

Fanfic MST: ITS MY LIFE!, a Portal fanfic [part 13]

For something that makes absolutely no sense and conveys nothing of substance, this fic does go on for quite a while. I honestly don’t even remember how many chapters are left, but we’re at least a few more from the end.

There’s a bit of gore in this one.

Recap: Marissa tried to take down the Chell/GLaDOS fusion, accompanied by Wheatley, who was predictably useless, and Rattman, who was also pretty useless (and also died, but whether or not that’s permanent remains to be seen). It was revealed that Chell is actually Rattman’s daughter due to some sort of DNA mix-up. The co-op bots showed up to ostensibly help Marissa, but, after she defeated the Chell/GLaDOS fusion (killing Chell in the process), the bots turned on her and shot her in the head. 

Chapter 1

Previous chapter

AN OMG I GOT 102 REVIEWS EVEN IF THERE MOSTLY DUM FLAMERZ THATS STILL PRETTY GOOOD FOR A FIRS STORY!

Man, I love her optimism. Raging at your “flamers” is common for badfic writers, so seeing an author be positive about all the reviews she’s getting, even though they’re almost entirely negative, is kind of refreshing.

Unfortunately, MarissaTheWriter dropped this attitude later on, but let’s cherish it while it lasts.

ALSO THANK RAI AN APE SOME THING BECOS THEY GAVED ME SOME REALY COOL IDEAS FOR THE NEW CHAPTERS!

I don’t know who these two are. I’m guessing people who reviewed her story.

PS MARRISSA DIED THAT PROOVES SHES NOT A MARRY SUE OK!

Well, no, actually, dying is really common for Mary Sue characters. In fact, the original Mary Sue, the character from whom we got the term Mary Sue, died at the end of the fanfiction she starred in. It’s a good way to make your OC look tragic.

PPS THIS HCAPTER IS FROM WHEATLY POV

Oh geez. Oh no. I don’t know how much more weird British slang I can take.

ITS MY LIFE!

CHAPTER THIRTEN: MARRISSAS RESSUREKSHUN

Yeah, that’s the other thing. Having a character return from the dead has the effect of making them look super special and important, and overdoing that is how we get Mary Sues, so…

This was the most bloody terribel thing ever.

I agree.

Oh, you mean Marissa’s death, not the fanfic itself. I take it back.

Marrisser was died with a gun shoot to her soddin head an blood an branes were all over ever were.

Gross! Thanks for the mental image!

I gared at Atlas an P-Body hoo killed the one thing I loafed an shouted "YOU BLOODY BUGGERS IM GONNA WANK YOU!"

That’s going to be difficult. He has no arms and they have no genitals. It’s Aperture Science, though, so I’m sure he can find a way.

But I didnt have arms so i cold not hurt them but I sooooooo mad they ranned off any way.

Yeah, nothing scarier than Wheatley threatening to “wank” you.

Bloody sods. "Marrissa why didnt I was able to safe you! IM SOOOOO SORRY!" An I cried bloody bukets of robottears.

Not sure how that would work, but I don’t need it elaborated on.

It was the end an I thot a bout commitin sewiside like GLaDOS did when a turrent came up to me.

"GO HEAD AN BLOW ME SODDING BLOODY BRANES OUT SO I CAN BE AT PIECE!" I yelled loud at the turrent. "No im diffrent! I am Oracle Turrent an I no how to make Marrissa alife!"

Wow, okay, that’s a character I wasn’t expecting to make an appearance. The turrets can’t walk, though (except the frankenturrets Wheatley created, but the oracle turret wasn’t one of those), so I’m not sure how this one managed to approach him.

No bloody way I o-mouthed in all the shock. "How can she life wen her hed sodding exploded?" I britished at him for tryin a get my hopes up.

“Stop making up pointless new words!” I Irish-Americaned at the author.

"Rember that she has the speshal powers, one of them is that wen she eats the zombee taters instead of become a zombee wen she dies she just becomes alife a gain!" It all made sense, the turrent was a bloody geinus!

Well, they can’t very well feed her potatoes when she’s a headless corpse, so swing and a miss.

"Common lets wankin go!"

Does anyone know what MarissaTheWriter thinks “wanking” means?

The Oracle Turrent ranned fast an I rolled on my rale right to the zombee taters quikly we grabbed up all of them an got back to Marrissa body.

How are they grabbing things when neither of them have arms?

I coldnt help but cry at the site of my troo love with head all open an messy.

Yeah, sounds pretty gross.

"Its ok Wheatly soon she will life!" The turrent made me more happy an we started stuffin the buggerin taters in Marrissas mouth.

So she’ll come back to life, promptly choke on potatoes, and die again. Excellent plan.

Then she started coffin an all the blood was got healed.

I hope “coffin” was a pun. On second thought, no I don’t.

"W Wheetly?" She asked in the most butiful voice in the hole portal worled.

Marissa, give GLaDOS her vocal processor back right now and no one gets hurt.

"Oh Marrissa I thot you were bloody gone for wankin ever!" We hugged an kissed an things was gettin hot an heavy so the Oracle Turrent left becos he didant want to see that kinna stuff.

I don’t either. I’m going with the turret.

MEANWHILE IN THE PAST

…thinking about whether or not that phrase makes sense is hurting my head. Moving on.

Teen Fortress 2 was MAD an PEEVED at Gabe Jonson an his dotter Marrissa Roberts for killin there leader Cave Jonson.

Hey, hang on a second. Whose point of view are we from now?

They wanted ervange speshally on Marrissa sinse with out her Gabe wold not have been a hard fight.

I’m going to assume for now that we’re just in third person.

"We shold right a mean things on her facebook page!" The evil Heavy dummed. "No you idot this is the past facebook isnt invented yet!" The evil Medik extricated.

Interesting how they know about Facebook although it’s not been invented yet.

All of em was angry but coldnt thing of a way to revenge Marrissa when the evil Ingineer got a idea. "I no! We will create an evil clone of Marrissa an send it to the futur an kill her!" It was a good plan.

Evil clones are always a good plan!

After school the teen fortress all gotted together at evil Ingineers hose an builded the clone mashine.

Ah, yes, the clone machine.

How are they going to clone her? She left. She’s in the future. Doing something I’d rather not think about with Wheatley.

"But we dont have dna evidance?" Evil Sniper said in sexay british aksent.

I doubt that, seeing as he’s Australian.

But the evil spy lolled an pulled out some thing. "I stolled some of her hare just in case we needed it for some thing."

Outside of making evil clones, is there really much use for hair samples?

He frenched an gave evil Ingine the hare an they started to clone Marrissa.

You cannot use “he frenched” like that. You just can’t.

A few mins later the clonin was done an a gurl stepped out hoo looked kinna like Marrissa but more evil an mean with angry face.

So she looks like Chell, but meaner and hotter. Alright. I’m into it.

"I am Assiram Strebor an I will kill Marrissa Roberts!"

Nice backwards name. Oh, sorry. Ecin sdrawkcab eman.

TO BE CONTINUED!

OH NO! CAN MARRISSA STOPS HER EVIL CLOWN?

I recommend getting a group of kids to fight it in a sewer somewhere in Maine.

FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON ITS MY LIFE|!

She’s right! Tune in next time for some evil clone and/or evil clown fighting action!

Next chapter