tinycheesecakedetective · 7 months ago
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The Night of Bitter Despair: A Fading Letters Story
Pt. 1
The Night of the Witches. An event that happens once every millennia, where witches from all across the world gather to exchange recipes and secrets with each other. Such an event had never been witnessed by any cookie before... And yet, here Pure Vanilla stood. Worn from days of travel and dwindling supplies, he looked up at the entrance to the witch's kitchen. The hard part was finally over. The answers he sought were beyond those doors. All that was left to do was walk inside. Pure Vanilla quickly gathered himself and quickly ran through the door, the heavy iron slamming behind him. The kitchen seemed dim, vague shadows littering the halls. That was, until, light flooded the room, illuminating everything in various hues and patterns.
"Oh my goodness... It's unlike anything I've ever seen before..." His eyes widened at the sight. Sugar work adorned the table as it looped endlessly into the sky, reflecting onto the table like a kaleidoscope. Palaces made with fondant and marzipan littered the table as a set of hands placed down a fountain spewing an endless amount of dark chocolate. A chortle echoed across the room as the witch's hand swept across the area, forcing the healer to hide behind one of the marzipan creations. As he peaked out from his hiding spot, more and more things were added and removed as the witch saw fit. He saw a whisk being snatched away as a tray of scones was meticulously planted to his right. Pieces of candy were spread like breadcrumbs on a forest trail. Piping bags were constantly in motion as the finishing touches were added. Just in time, too. The witch's endless decorating finally stopped as the doors burst out, slamming against her home.
"FILOMENAAA!!!"
A particularly shrill voice rang out, causing Pure Vanilla to cover his ears. Were the witches always this loud? The witch known as Filomena turned her head before giddily embracing her friends. "WINIFRED!!! BASTINDA!!! It's been a thousand long years! Glad to see y'all!" "HAH! A MILLENIA IS NOTHING IF IT MEANS SPENDING TIME WITH YOU. YOU ALWAYS THREW THE BEST PARTIES!" Bastinda huffed before haphazardly dropping her treats at the table, a flagrant grin appearing. "AND THIS TIME I CAME PREPARED! I'VE HAD PLENTY OF TIME TO COME UP WITH NEW RECIPES."
"...humph. ...even with all your effort, your sweets still look stale..." The third witch, Winifred, sulked behind before placing her items on the table, taking the time to wipe off any smudges. "...unlike you, I've been perfecting my handiwork."
Bastinda couldn't help but roll her eyes, mocking the mopey looking witch with a giant yawn. "look at me... I'm Winnie-Fred... and I make the same old desserts over and over-OH PLEASE, YOU COULDN'T PERFECT A SWISS ROLL FROM A TOOTSIE ROLL!"
"HEY. Settle down, will you?" Filomena huffed before pushing the two to their seats. "It's not a competition! Look at these! They look stunning!" The other two begrudgingly looked at each other before muttering a half baked truce. "There, was that so bad-" She was soon interrupted by a loud bell ringing from across the room. "Oh, what good timing! The main course is finished! Please, enjoy the appetizers while I go put the finishing touches!"
Pure Vanilla removed his hands from his ears, bemoaning the awkward state he was in. But he was grateful because now two witches were just sitting there, eating and talking. He could just ask them right then and there! He picked up his staff and moved from his hiding spot before-
"They're REAAADY!!!" Crumbs.
The other witch had returned, wearing a pair of oven mitts and placing down several plates of cookies. Huh. Pure Vanilla assumed she was going to grab... Well, anything else. She mentioned a main course, so why..? "PHEW! I baked a TON of cookies!" Filomena took one before shoving it in Bastinda's face. "Here, try one! You're gonna LOVE IT!" Before he even realized it, his confusion had turned to horror. Bastinda took the cookie and beheaded it in a single sickening crunch.
"W-what...? What... is this...?!" Pure Vanilla's face paled immensely. A trickle of sweat ran down his face as he froze with fear. His weak dough trembled, instinctively clutching his staff as Bastinda's face lit up with excitement. She clapped her hands with childlike glee before grabbing a fistful of cookies and shoving them into her mouth. The drool and crumbs splattered onto the table while she kept reaching out for more. "...save some for the rest of us, you glutton..." Winifred sneered before sneaking away a few of her own. "OH, YOU KNOW I CAN'T HELP IT! THEY'RE JUST SOO... DELICIOUS!!!" It was disgusting. It was cruelty. Pure Vanilla had to resist the urge to vomit as more crumbs fell from their hands. Soon, all three began to take part in this savagery. What was he doing-?! Why was he just standing there as innocent cookies were being mauled right in front of him? He had a soul gem! Pure Vanilla could save them!
Adrenaline began to run through his dough as he ran to one of the abandoned plates, casting a healing spell over those that were spared in the culling. "PLEASE-!! You must get up!! You have to help me save the others!!" But there was no response. As he took a closer look, Pure Vanilla saw those injured... smiling. They were being eaten, and they were smiling, as if they hadn't a care in the world. He didn't have time to take it in, as one of the hands came back to finish the job. He quickly ran to another plate where he tried again, trying to pull one of the cookies away, but to no avail. What was worse, these cookies were smiling as well. "Why..?" His hurt and confusion rose until it couldn't be contained any further. "Why are you SMILING AT ME?!"
SLAM.
Winifred's hand landed with a hideous thud. The plate shattered on contact, shrapnel dashing across the table as the remaining cookies broke against the wall. "...what's thiiiis? I don't remember making this cookie..!" Her head turned to Filomena, who squinted at the sight. "Well obviously, I must've made it earlier. You can have it as a treat!" Pure Vanilla began to hyperventilate. In a few seconds a target had been placed on his back. He need to leave. He didn't care how or when, he just had to. Immediately his body began to move on it's own, sprinting towards the only exit he was aware of.
"Aaah... this one's a runner."
Spoons began slamming down onto the wood. The knives that once sat idle for decoration were now soaring across the room. The constant thumping made him lose his balance constantly, but he couldn't afford to stop now. Fists came crashing down, shattering one of the plates. Run. A fork almost pierced his neck, tearing the tablecloth underneath him. Just keep running. His only instinct was to just keep going, for as long as it took. "You're so close", he kept telling himself. "You can't stop here or you will die!" So when he began flying, he was almost relieved. At least until he understood what had happened.
"...I got it."
It was so quick, and yet it felt like everything was moving in slow motion. Winifred's hand had finally caught up to him, striking him from behind and sending his tired body into a freefall. He felt his soul jam on his neck begin to loosen and slip. His staff had snapped from the force as he saw moments of his life flash before him.
"...Why..?" He finally managed to croak out. He hadn't realized his throat was so sore already. "Why would... you do this? Why would you deceive us...?"
All Pure Vanilla was met with was silence. Tears began to fall, and soon he was weeping bitterly. Deep in his dough, the answer he searched for was answered.
Cookies were made to be eaten.
Why would they ever entertain the questions of something so insignificant if they had always planned to eat him? Had his life mattered at all? He was born with a will and a soul, wasn't that enough to be acknowledged? He had friends and family. He had someone he loved so much he would walk to the ends of Earthbread for her. But to the witches... none of it mattered.
None of it mattered...
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All they cared about was that they caught him.
"OOH, RIGHT INTO THE ULTIMATE DOUGH! I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD IT IN YOU, YA OLD BAT!" The all too familiar voice of Bastinda cackled as her bulging eyes stared at the cauldron in the back. "Oh, it's been a while since I used that old thing!" Filomena crooned, her gnarled hand tracing the rims of the giant bowl. "...y'know... I always wondered what might happen... if a cookie was baked into it again..." Winifred's eyes lowered, a malicious looking smirk plastered onto her face.
A thought came to them. A truly horrible thought. You could feel their collective gears begin to turn as they all stopped to look at the cauldron. They could, surely they could. What was stopping them? Bastinda's toothy grin curled up before her body trembled in excitement. "ENOUGH STALLING," she giddily gripped the table from sheer excitement, "LET'S DO IT, WINNIE!! LET'S SEE WHAT FORTUNA HAS IN STORE!!"
In unison, the three witches plunged their hands into the dough before lifting up the healer and dropping him onto a spare tray. The oven's heat had begun to spread across the room as Winifred took the honor of shoving him inside, sealing his fate once and for all. The only thing left to do was wait.
This was how Pure Vanilla Cookie was going to die; alone. His determination was greatly rewarded with indifference and malice. Weak to the wills of the creators he once revered, his body would burn to a sad, pathetic lump and be thrown out as the remnants of a failed experiment. His soul began to ache as the fire around him grew in size.
He could almost see what would happen next. Golden Cheese would be wondering where he went. She'd be the first to notice, of course, and she'd be the first to tell everyone. Hollyberry and Dark Cacao would form a search party, desperately looking in his favorite places, places that he would never visit again. He imagined them standing in front of his gravestone after it ended in failure. Hollyberry would bawl her eyes out and Dark Cacao would try and hold back his devastation in a failed attempt to remain steadfast for her. And White Lily... White Lily would never read another letter from him again. She would never know how much he loved her. He would never see her smile again. He would never hear her laugh. He'd never see the way she fiddled with her hair or the way the sun shone down on her eyes or how the world lit up when she was near.
It was a future where everything would stop in it's tracks. It was a future where everything he loved dear would come crumbling.
It was a future he could not accept.
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mercurygray · 6 months ago
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Hi Merc! How do you feel about prompt nr 16 (daybreak) for my Clubmobile girls? Doesn't have to be anything romantic if you're not vibing with it, just the girls
Thank you 💜
- your Fred Friend
I hope this works for you, Fred Friend!
Technically, it was Mary's fault.
Mission days were always early starts - 3:00 a.m. to roll out of bed in the old, crumbling mansion the Red Cross was renting for them, and pull the truck out from the shed to be on the road and catch the end of the 5:30 am run on the equipment shed with hot coffee and a mix of yesterday's leftovers and today's starter batch, usually too doughy as the oil came up to temperature.
It was cold out before the sun came up, and they kept the windows of the truck closed while they started the oil and heated the urns for coffee, the small space cramped but warm enough, with the four of them and the fryers going. Moods were infectious, in a small space like this, and Tatty seemed to have slept on the wrong side of the bed the way she was banging pans and slamming doors and grumbling about how she'd like to shoot the man who invented early mornings and gas stoves that wouldn't light.
Anyway, she was a little ridiculous, like early mornings had only just been invented and they hadn't been doing this for months on end, and Mary had started humming, and then Helen was doing it too, and by the time the tune got to Fred it had harmony and a rhythm section with the tongs and a measuring cup until Tatty turned around, blazing, and Fred could only grin.
"Oh, she kicked out my windshield," she started, still drumming along with the tongs, and the rest picked up, "And she hit me over the head She cussed and cried and said I lied And she wished that I was dead! Oh, lay that pistol down, babe, lay that pistol down Pistol packing mama, lay that pistol down."
The coin could have fallen on either side, but Tatty, it seemed, had complained enough for one morning. She rolled her eyes and declared she was going to let the mess hall know they were here, leaving the three of them to open the windows, still laughing about their improvised jam session.
It seemed they already had a customer - or an audience. Captain Brennan was waiting in the half-light of dawn with a cup of coffee already in hand and a clipboard under her arm, uniform beautiful and crisp. (She was always well dressed, whether by habit or practice - all the girls said so. Not too many women could make the green and pinks look chic, but by god, would Marion Brennan try.)
"You're all very chipper this morning," the intelligence officer observed, waiting a respectful distance away as they rolled up the windows and started putting out the doughnut racks.
"Sorry, ma'am," Helen offered quietly. (Brennan intimidated her, for reasons Fred couldn't ever quite understand - but then, perhaps she was a little intimidating, with her beautiful hair and her rank and her surety about her station. And how many other women were walking around air bases with captain's bars and the complete trust of the C.O.? Brennan's word was law and her good opinion gold.)
Brennan chuckled, her smile rare and warm. "Why are you apologizing? It's good to see smiles this early."
"Get you a fresh cup, Captain?" Mary asked, gesturing with the pot she was holding.
"You may, Mary, thank you." Brennan shook the remnants out of her cup and onto the grass, and offered Mary the now-empty mug. "If we're being honest, I like your coffee more than I do the mess hall's."
"Isn't it a little early for you, ma'am?" Fred asked, leaning over the window holding the sugar shaker so the Captain could help herself. It was only the flight officers in the earliest briefings, pilots and bombardiers and navigators, and Brennan certainly wasn't one of them. (Any minute now they'd all be done suiting up, and those doors would open and the whole lot of them would begin the hike out to the trucks that would take them out to the hardstands.)
"You know what they say about early birds and worms. I need to review today's run with Major Bowman, after they've sent them all out so I can brief my team. And we have photos from yesterday's run to review and send on to wing."
"Those worms won't know what hit them," Fred replied with a smile. Another smile from Brennan.
"What worms now?" Colonel Harding appeared from the direction of the briefing hut, hat tucked under his arm, Jack Kidd following close behind him.
"The worms the group's going to bomb today, sir," Mary offered, holding out a fresh mug. "Coffee for you? Major Kidd, some coffee?"
"Thank you, Mary. Mighty kind." Harding took it and drank deeply before anyone could offer powdered milk or sugar, watching as Kidd stepped away to speak with Brennan.
The song was still stuck in Fred's head as she continued setting the mugs and doughnuts out for service, glancing up to see Harding's face in the dim of daybreak, watching the conversation between his XO and his intelligence captain with an expression that Fred thought she would call pride, and, in another space and a different light, perhaps something like love.
Oh, lay that pistol down, babe, lay that pistol down Pistol packing mama, lay that pistol down.
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brookaboo · 18 days ago
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sweet as sugar
Ronald Weasley x kinda oblivious!reader
warning: food play, praise kink, nipple sucking, oral (fem receiving), jealous Ron and upset reader
Summary: in which reader is dating Fred the older brother of Ron but he begins to show an interest in Angelina however reader is to oblivious and innocent to notice so Ron shows her how good she could have it
It was another boring day at Hogwarts. Y/N Potter and her boyfriend Fred Weasley were sitting down in the common room of Gryffindor. Y/N was sat in a chair reading a book about the history of magic her boyfriend of two years was sat on the couch next to his friend Angelina. They were laughing and giggling cuddling up to each other but Y/N being Y/N thought that everything was ok she thought that’s how friends are with each other. she wouldn’t know because she doesn’t have that many friends. Everything is always about her older younger brother Harry Potter the boy who lived. Y/N was so invested in her book that by the time she looks up an hour and a half had passed and it Fred and Angelina are no where to be found. Out of curiosity she gets up and decides to make her way to Fred’s dorm all the other boys in his dorm are having a part in the Slytherin common room but Y/N doesn’t like loud noises and bright colors so she decided to stay back and Fred did too as she makes her way out of the common room she doesn’t notice the pair of eyes of another Weasley watching her
Ron’s p.o.v
No…fuck…don’t go please I already know what my asshole of a brother is doing he is fucking that slut Angelina. I don’t get why he cheats on Y/N. I mean she is perfect she is sexy and is smart however she just doesn’t notice how my brother fucks Angelina all the time. I mean how dumb can she be but don’t worry once she realizes what he is doing I will be there to comfort her and maybe just maybe she will become my little dumb girl. I watch as she walks outside the common room and makes her way find my brother I decide to wait in the common room waiting for the inevitable to happen. Y/N p.o.v
As I walk out of the common room I make my way towards Fred’s dorm because he was gone and honestly I was curious. As I am walking down the hall I hear noises that sound almost as if someone was moaning but that couldn’t be right because the only other people here are Fred and Angelina and they would never do that to me right…. I finally arrive at Fred’s dorm and and I hear the noises coming from behind the door my curiosity makes me want to open it so I do once I open it I met with a sight that makes my heart clench. I see Angelina riding my boyfriend Fred, Fred doesn’t even acknowledge me but Angelina the person I thought was my friend she looks over at me and smirks as she keeps going. Tears fill my eyes as I slam the door behind me. I run back down the hall I make my way back to the common room once I arrive I am met with a pair of green eyes I notice it is Ron the younger brother of Fred. He looks at me with sympathy as he sees the tears spilling from my eyes “hey hey it’s alright just listen ok come here and why don’t you tell me what happened” he says in a worried voice I go and sit next to him he puts his arm around me he pulls me into his side as I continue to cry “h-h-he cheated on me with Angelina” I say in between sobs I begin to ramble about how I loved him and how he ripped my heart out but then Ron says something that shocked me “wow I can’t believe he fucking did that you deserve so much better than that douchebag” “d-do you really mean that” I question as I try to wipe my face because I have begun to calm down “with all my heart I mean it” as he says that we stare into eachothers eyes for a few minutes before we slowly begin to lean in he meets me half way the kiss is gentle and loving he lays his hands on my cheeks cupping my face as we continue to kiss we pull away as we breathe I smile and blush slightly looking away he grabs my chin and says “don’t do that sweets don’t try to hide from me ever ok I love every bit of you” he pulls me on his lap so I am now straddling him I lean In to kiss him again the kiss grows more rough than before but it still has the sweet gentleness of it his hand grips my waist I gasp a little and Ron take his invitation and slips his tongue in my mouth I don’t even try to fight it I just melt into his touch as we continue to make out his hands begin exploring my body he pulls away and says “I believe we should have a change in scenery” he says as he stands up with me still wrapped around him he carry’s me to his room once we arrive inside he lays me on the bed as he leans over me he then pulls my skirt down slowly as he maintains eye contact with me. Once he pulls my skirt off he then pulls my shirt off and unhooks my bra I am left in nothing but my lacy white panties. I hear him suck in a breath as he observes my body “bloody hell your gorgeous” he says as he begins to kiss up my body once he arrives at my tits he stops he smirks as he reaches beside his bedside table he pulls out a can of some sorts it looks almost as if it is whip cream but I honestly don’t mind my mind is too hazy god I just wish he would touch me more I think to myself. He begins to pour the whip cream up my stomach and to my nipples. He tosses it to the side and gives me his signature smile as he goes from the bottom of my stomachs and begins to lick a line up my body eating all the whip cream he goes all the way from my stomachs to my nipple once he arrives there he begins to suck and kiss my nipple I let out a string of moans he then begins to play and pinch my other nipple making sure it wasn’t left unattended. As he continues to lick my nipple he eventually pulls away to which I let out a moan in neediness because I miseed the feeling he goes down in between my hips I still have my panties on but that doesn’t stop the wetness from showing “was all this for me” he says in a bit of a shocked voice I feel his hand begin to tease me through my underwear he begins to run his finger over it touching it just enough to
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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 years ago
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In A Pickle - Indiana Jones X Female Reader
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Title: In A Pickle
Indiana Jones X Female Reader
Additional Characters: N/A
Requested by Anon!
WC: 1,776
Warnings: Reader is short, Reader likes to live dangerously, anxiety, teasing, taunting, slight suggestiveness, Butterfinger™, stomach ache (sugar), slight itty-bitty angst, Indy being adorably annoying, nervousness, embarrassment, touch-starved Indy, nicknames, and fluff
You glared up at the highest shelf, eyes narrowed and lips pursed as you placed your hands on your hips. Your small box of Butterfingers stared right back. Your fingers twitched as you huffed, trying to see whether not it was better to call Indy for help, or just climb the counters and do it yourself. Leaning to the side slowly, you peeked down the hall, Indiana's office door was shut. Leaning back, you'd made your decision. Even though it may have been smarter to interrupt whatever work Indiana was working on to get your snack. You didn't really feel like walking down that hallway, knocking on his door, and using up your non-existent Sunday energy to ask him to help you. It was your last day off and you wanted to do nothing with it except eat junk food and watch Fred and Ginger on the telly.
Huffing again, you stepped up to the counter, placing a hand on the counter and one holding the ledge of the open cupboard, you pulled yourself up. Pushing your knee on the counter, you pulled your other leg up before pausing for a breath. Looking up, you growled. Your Butterfingers were still too high for you to reach. Just to be sure, you tried to reach for the box, your fingers not even reaching the top of the shelf below your precious peanut buttery chocolates. Slowly, you reached for the shelf's ledge, pulling yourself up, firmly planting your feet on the counter now eye-level with your beautiful box. You couldn't stop the smile on your face as you grabbed your Butterfinger box, pulling it to your chest with a great sigh of relief. Suddenly, your stomach flutters as you flail your arms slightly to try and regain your balance. With a little more strength in your legs, you managed to right yourself before collapsing on the hard floor next to the counter, giggling and snuggling your chocolate Butterfingers with your newfound adrenaline. The sound of someone clearing their throat caused you to look over. Indy stood there, smirking at you, leaning against the wall; his cute little glasses perched on his nose. 
"What are you doing?" He asked, crossing his arms as he looked at you; his eyes trailing over your figure before landing back on your eyes.
You placed your box on the middle shelf at your waist, opening it before pulling out one Butterfinger, slowly, meticulously peeling its yellow wrapper skin off before taking a big bite. You looked back at Indiana, before shrugging and swallowing your bite, "Someone put my Butterfingers on the top shelf. Do you know who would ever do such a thing?" You asked before taking another bite.
Indiana made a face, as if he didn't know, looking around the room before turning back to you. "No. I don't think I do."
You hummed, taking another bite, "Odd, cause, Indy baby, we're the only two that live in this house. And, I don't think you've noticed but... I'm too short to even reach the top shelf." You mocked sarcastically as Indiana mimicked your hum, pushing off the wall and walking over.
"Oh, I've noticed." He began, looking up at you slightly, his hands placed on either side of your socked feet, "It's pretty hard not to notice how short you are, sweetheart. Not that I don't enjoy the view~" He teased, causing you to blush slightly.
You huffed, finishing your candy bar before stuffing the wrapper in the box with the rest of the non-eaten Butterfingers. Placing your hands on your hips, you stared down at Indiana; finally feeling a bit more confident being taller than him. "Well, aren't you charming." You rolled your eyes playfully, "But you're not charming my pants off today, Jones! I'm having my Slow Sunday, where I can eat Butterfingers until I get a stomach ache and fall asleep on the couch after watching I Love Lucy." You proclaimed, as Indiana just grinned up at you.
He patted your foot lightly before straightening. "Okay, sweetie," He said with a teasing smirk, "But I'd be happy to carry you if you need me to. Don't want you to slip and fall while you're trying to get down." He added. His tone turned playful as he looked up at you, your brain finally registering his fingers slowly slipping up your legs, stopping at the back of your calves; hand large and warmth seeping into you.
"Fine." You huff, rolling your eyes again, "But no funny business, Jones." You pointed an accusatory finger at him. Indiana just smiled innocently, opening his arms up for you to jump in. You huffed again, before dropping into his arms. Arms wrapped around his neck, you pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek in thanks before hopping out of his arms. Walking to the living room, you pause mid-step. Turning back to Indiana, he watched with another smug smirk. "Uh, I forgot my box... On that shelf. Could you..?" You trailed off, watching as Indiana nodded and stepped back to the counter, grabbing your box of Butterfingers and handing them to you.
"My hero~" You softly cheered before turning around with a pep in your step.
Feeling a small tap on your behind, you squealed in surprise. Turning back around you watched with a glare as your Indiana walked back to his office, whistling a happy tune. You watched as he paused at his open door, turning his head to look back at you with a smirk. "Have fun, honey." He spoke sweetly, before shutting his office door.
You pursed your lips, sighing dramatically before you turned back to the living room and headed to the telly. Turning it on and finding the right channel, you plopped on the couch with another sigh. "I said no funny business, but of course, he has to tease me. Every time. So irritating." You muttered as you opened another Butterfinger. "No one lays a finger on my Butterfinger." You continued to mutter as your glare deepened as you stared at the telly.
~~~
Five Butterfingers in, you rubbed your tummy, feeling it rumble and hearing it grumble as if it was telling you how much of a terrible person you were for making it hurt. You almost felt bad. But you would never regret it. Those candy bars were heaven and you would eat ten more if you really wanted to. But, you thought it was best to take a small break. Maybe have some water. That might help you from falling into a sugar coma. Pushing up from the couch, you headed back to the kitchen, opening the cup cupboard, you paused. Your favorite cup, the one you always used, was missing. Looking to the side, it wasn't in the sink, and you always washed your cup after you were done. Even on Sundays. 
Sighing, you opened the other cupboard, looked over all of the cups, and sighed once more. It wasn't there either. You placed your hands on your hips, racking your brain for the information on where you had misplaced your beloved cup. 
"Looking for something, dear?" You heard behind you.
Turning around, you placed your hand over your heart as you took in a breath. Glaring at Indiana you shake your head, "You  sneaky devil." You breathed out, "Gonna give me a heart attack one day."
Indiana hummed, "I'm sorry, honey." He apologized, walking over to you and placing his hands on your hips, looking down at you with his sad puppy dog eyes. "I'll make it up to you, by helping you get your cup down." He gestured up at the cupboard behind you with his eyes.
You looked up at him confused as you turned around in his arm, going up on your tippy-toes to see that your cup... Was on the highest shelf; pushed near the back. Turning back around, you glared up at Indiana, crossing your arms. "Indiana..." You warned and he raised his hands up, taking a step back.
"I didn't mean to, honey. I was putting away the clean dishes. Must have slipped my mind that it was your cup." He tried to explain. 
You stared at him for a good while, your eyes searching his, "Why do I feel like you're hiding my things in high places just so you can grab them for me?" You asked, voice lowering as Indiana shot out a small laugh.
"Me? Why would you think tha-"
You raised a hand, silencing him, "I know when I am being played, Indy. And you are playing me. You can't deny that you have your own way of getting what you want."
Indiana looked taken aback by your words, his face softening. Taking a deep breath, he took a small step towards you, "Sweetheart, listen," He pleaded and you stared up at him. "I'm not doing this in a malicious way. I just... Like helping you. Most importantly... Spending time with you." He said softly, almost as if he was embarrassed. 
You dropped your crossed arms, your eyes softening, "You know you could just spend time with me without making me climb the counter or ask you for help. Right? You don't have to be stuck in that office all the time." You told him.
Indy's cheeks flushed pink and he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, "Yeah, I know you're right..." He laughed awkwardly.
You smiled softly, taking a step closer to him, reaching up to place a hand on his chest, "Hey, how about... You grab some chips, make some popcorn, and get me some water... And..." You leaned up to him, eyes half-lidded as you brushed your nose against his, "And then you can come to watch I Love Lucy with me." You pat his chest once, "And we can cuddle since you're soooo touch-starved." You teased, before leaving the kitchen. You paused, peeking your head back in, “I can’t blame you, Indy. I am too. So hurry up. I want my cuddles.” You jokingly demanded before going back to the couch.
Indian chuckled softly, shaking his head, following your instructions quickly, before rushing to the living room and placing a bag of chips beside you on the couch; your water on the coffee table. He sat close beside you, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before settling in. His arm quickly wrapped around you, pulling you closer as you laid your head on his chest. 
“I love you, Indy.” You mumbled softly, feeling his warm breath fanning against your cheek.
“Love you too.” He whispered back. "...Shorty."
"I will hide that hat of yours and you know it."
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tallulahdiggory · 1 year ago
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𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.
𝐘/𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚!
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐖. 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞r
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It was the summer right before your 6th year at hogwarts. You had finished the last scholl year with great O.W.L.S scores and were on your way to becoming an auror. To be able to afford your supplies for the upcoming year, you got a job waitressing at The Three Broomsticks over the summer. Which meant seeing people from school when you had finally gotten a break. It wasn't too bad, until a particularly cute guy started coming in every Tuesday that you had recognized from Quittich practice.
"N/n!" He shouted. You turned your head around as you were cleaning dishes before.
"Fred? Hows your holiday been?" You asked looking into his eyes, getting lost inside of them. You snapped out of it before you dropped another cup and broke it.
"Alright," he replied "my mum is driving me crazy so I figured to come and chill at Hogesmade for a bit. Maybe Ill go to Zonkos." You remembered how much Fred enjoyed pranking people. That's actually how you met him. He pranked your friend Charlee for not giving him his quill back in third year.
"Fair enough, what can I get for you today?" You asked him, fixing your apron so you didnt look like a hot mess.
" I'll take a... normal hot latte please, with 2 sugars, love." Love. You got butterflies instantly from the pet name. You stood there for a minute before nodding and counting the total.
"1 pound and 50 pence please" You said opening the cash register. He stuck his hand in his pocket and placed the money on the counter. You put it in the register before walking over to make his drink.
" who's that y/n?" Your college GiaNina asked.
"Just a friend from school, why'd you ask?" You replied pouring the hot liquid into the teacup.
"He's cute don'tcha think?" She giggled walking away to give the other customer their order. You shook it off, you'd barley had talked to him before. You finished his beverage and walked back over to the counter.
"Here ya go Freddie." You said, purposefully trying to get his attention by saying it.
"Thanks love, see you around yeah?" He replied taking a sip from his cup. Love. That one word did so much to your insides.
"Yeah, see you you said walking to the back door to take your apron off.
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The morning after all of the 1st years were sorted you sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Angelina Johnston.
"N/n! How was your holiday?" She asked pulling you into a side hug. She smelled like cherries.
"It wasn't too bad! I worked at The Three Broomsticks so I got discounts. " You said, reaching over to grab the coffee pot. You saw George sit down next to Angelina kissing her cheek.
"Angie and Georgie sitting in a tree K.I.S-" You started to sing before Angelina flipped you off giving George a hug. Focusing your attention back to your meal, you stirred your coffee and was about to put the pot back before a flash of orange caught your eye.
"Can I have a coffee with 2 sugars love?" You turned your head only to see the one and only Fred Weasley. You giggled,
"Of course you can Freddie." You said pouring another cup of coffee for him. Sliding it over to him you transferred your coffee into your water bottle and left the great hall. You wanted to get to early so you could sit with him and chang the seating chart.
ᕯ➳❣➳ᕯ
Once the school day ended, you went down to the Great Hall again to get some homework done. You saw Fred and George sitting down playing chess so you sat across from them. Fred was the first to notice so he said
"Y/nnnn can I pretty please have the DADA answers? I don't understand it" He said sheepishly sticking his bottom lip out making puppy dog eyes. You laughed and said
"If you must, but you owe me." You said scribbling down a copy with the answered passing it over to him.
" Youre the best love" he replied. God that pet name. You would do anything just to hear him say it again. Once you focused your attention back to you classwork, Fred and George left, because George won and now they were bored. You sighed, will I ever get my chance? You thought. Just when you were going to look back at your work, you heard the sound of an 'awww' so you look over your should to see Angelina and George pulling away from a kiss. You started to smile but it soon changed to a scowl when you saw Angelina's friend Alicia trying to flirt with a very uncomfortable looking Fred. You quickly shoved all your stuff in your bag and stormed over to her.
"You should learn to take a hint hun, he looks like he's just seen Snape in a princess dress yeah? Go on now " You said to her taking Freds arm snaking it around your waist.
"I dont see why he would want to hang out with a keeper but that's just me!" She rolled her eyes and stormed away. A laugh escaped Freds mouth.
"Atleast you play Quittich." He said pulling you closer. You turned to look up in his Hazel eyes. Before you got too lost in them he asked
"Can I kiss you?" Your faces inches apart now. You nodded wrapping your hands around his neck. His around your waist and oh God it was amazing. His lips were so soft.
"I KNEW IT GEORGE GIVE ME MY 3 GALLEONS"
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The end<3
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helix-enterprises117 · 7 months ago
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Halo Reloaded: Puppy Eyes
In a cozy nook of New Mombasa, tucked away from the usual hustle and the occasional, unnerving peace that came after a particularly nasty Covenant invasion, was a diner. Not just any diner, but the kind with neon lights that had seen better days and a jukebox in the corner that was perpetually stuck on jazz standards from centuries past.
It was here, amidst the scent of overcooked burgers and undercooked fries, that Kelly-087 and Fred-104 decided to plant themselves for what passed as a date night in the Spartan handbook (not that such a handbook existed, but if it did, it would likely advise against anything that could result in fun).
Fred, the ever-dutiful Spartan, was halfway through a cup of coffee that could charitably be described as "motor oil chic." Kelly, on the other hand, was attacking a milkshake with the enthusiasm of a child who'd just discovered sugar was a thing. It was a rare moment of downtime, a slice of normal in lives that were anything but.
"Fred," Kelly said, sliding her milkshake aside with a look that meant trouble. Or fun. With Kelly, it was often both. "How do you feel about dancing?"Fred, whose experience with dancing was mostly limited to dodging plasma fire, nearly inhaled his coffee.
"Dancing?" he sputtered, trying to imagine himself in any scenario where that would be a good idea.
"Yeah, you know," Kelly pressed, her eyes gleaming with a mix of challenge and excitement. "Music, moving, maybe not stepping on each other's feet too much?"
Fred raised an eyebrow, putting down his coffee like it was suddenly made of live grenades. "Kelly, the last time I 'danced,' I accidentally dislocated an ensign's shoulder. You really want to unleash that on the civilian population?"
Kelly leaned back, giving him a look that was part amusement, part exasperation. "Oh, come on. I've seen you in a fight. You're all grace and lethal elegance. Just pretend it's a combat situation. Minus the actual combat."
Fred snorted, shaking his head. "Because nothing says romance like treating a dance floor like a battlefield."
But Kelly wasn't deterred. She employed the big guns: the puppy eyes. It was a low blow, and they both knew it. Those big, earnest eyes that said, "Trust me, what's the worst that could happen?" A lot, actually, but Fred found it increasingly hard to care.
"I can't say no to those eyes," he grumbled, though the fight was already leaving him. "This is going to end in disaster."
Kelly's grin could have powered the UNSC Infinity. "Disaster, adventure—it's all about perspective. Plus, it'll be fun. Promise."
Fred sighed, the weight of impending doom settling in. "You know, most couples would just go see a movie."
"And miss the chance to see you in dancing shoes? Never," Kelly shot back, her tone light, teasing.
They bantered back and forth a bit more, the diner around them fading into a comfortable backdrop. When they finally left, stepping out into the cool evening air, there was a lightness between them. It was the kind of moment that made all the chaos and destruction fade into the background, if only for a little while.
They made their way to whatever dance hall Kelly had in mind. Fred couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, dancing wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. After all, how hard could it be?
Famous last words, he'd think later, as he accidentally sent a fellow dancer spinning across the floor. But in that moment, with Kelly laughing beside him, it was all worth it.
@inthatfandom, @ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask, @makowrites "I can't say no to those eyes."
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numberonenat · 1 year ago
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i asked chat gpt to make a playlist based on each one of the brothers of obey me…
here's part 2 and 3: the dateables + luke / the side characters
here's what it gave me:
lucifer:
"sympathy for the devil" by the rolling stones
"smooth operator" by sade
"devil inside" by INXS
"demon" by imagine dragons
"lucifer" by SHINee
"bad guy" by billie eilish
"personal jesus" by depeche mode
"no rest for the wicked" by lykke li
"highway to hell" by AC/DC
"dark horse" by katy perry ft. juicy j
"i put a spell on you" by creedence clearwater revival
"power" by kanye West
"black magic woman" by santana
"boulevard of broken dreams" by green day
"wicked game" by chris isaak
mammon:
"can't stop the feeling!" by justin timberlake
"money" by pink floyd
"material girl" by madonna
"don't stop me now" by queen
"irresistible" by fall out boy ft. demi lovato
"i want it all" by queen
"rich girl" by hall & oates
"break free" by ariana grande
"gold digger" by kanye west
"born to be wild" by steppenwolf
"counting stars" by onerepublic
"uptown funk" by mark ronson ft. bruno mars
"i love it" by icona pop ft. charli XCX
"shut up and dance" by walk the moon
"take a walk" by passion pit
leviathan:
"nerd" by three loco
"all the small things" by blink-182
"the real slim shady" by eminem
"anime" by riton & kah-lo
"superhero" by 5 seconds of summer
"loser" by beck
"gamer" by karliene
"virtual insanity" by jamiroquai
"no tears left to cry" by ariana grande
"in the end" by linkin park
"radioactive" by imagine dragons
"the middle" by zedd, maren morris, grey
"numb" by linkin park
"gangnam style" by psy
"last friday night (T.G.I.F.)" by katy perry
satan:
"bitter sweet symphony" by the verve
"imagine" by john lennon
"bohemian rhapsody" by queen
"hotel california" by eagles
"hallelujah" by leonard cohen
"smooth" by santana ft. rob thomas
"time in a bottle" by jim croce
"wish you were here" by pink floyd
"somewhere only we know" by keane
"black" by pearl jam
"dust in the wind" by kansas
"vincent" by don mclean
"blackbird" by the beatles
"under the bridge" by red hot chili peppers
"sultans of swing" by dire straits
asmodeus:
"vogue" by madonna
"glamorous" by fergie ft. ludacris
"beautiful" by christina aguilera
"i'm too sexy" by right said fred
"fashion" by david bowie
"confident" by demi lovato
"glam" by christina aguilera
"fancy" by iggy azalea ft. charli XCX
"manicure" by lady gaga
"glamourous indie rock & roll" by the killers
"G.U.Y." by lady gaga
"primadonna" by MARINA
"supermodel (you better work)" by rupaul
"gold digger" by kanye west
"diamonds" by rihanna
beelzebub:
"sugar, sugar" by the archies
"banana pancakes" by jack johnson
"all star" by smash mouth
"don't stop believin'" by journey
"i want to hold your hand" by the beatles
"lean on me" by bill withers
"stand by me" by ben e. king
"with a little help from my friends" by the beatles
"three little birds" by bob marley & the wailers
"can't help falling in love" by elvis presley
"i'll be there for you" by the rembrandts
"count on me" by bruno mars
"lean on me" by club nouveau
"i just called to say i love you" by stevie wonder
"better together" by jack johnson
belphegor:
"enter sandman" by metallica
"lose yourself" by eminem
"don't wake me up" by chris brown
"sweet dreams (are made of this)" by eurythmics
"lazy song" by bruno mars
"sleeping in" by the postal service
"dreams" by fleetwood mac
"mad world" by tears for fears
"lucid dreams" by juice WRLD
"wake me up when september ends" by green day
"hotel california" by eagles
"boulevard of broken dreams" by green day
"i don't want to miss a thing" by aerosmith
"talking in your sleep" by the romantics
"no sleep 'til brooklyn" by beastie boys
this was fun lol
except for the repetitive ones, i acctually liked this - even with the ridiculous or that make no sense...
i'll definatelly make a part 2 with the side characters and maybe with characters from another fandom. i'll put the link here when i do it.
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elliebyrrdwrites · 6 months ago
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Dramione Blurb 8.75
Entire chapter on AO3, here.
Hermione
Sleep evaded her. Though she did try, Hermione tossed and turned, images of the woman in the photo flashing through her mind. Images of Draco’s eyes on hers when they told her she was in danger.
Unsettled was the most accurate word she could use to describe her mind and body. And yet, it was not enough.
Throwing her robe over her sleepwear, she left the bedroom and tip-toed through the hall before she came to the landing, where she found Theo sitting. He had his back leaned up against the wall, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His hands folded, resting in his lap.
He looked comfortable but she knew it was anything but comfortable on the old, wooden floor. Her feet could feel every notch in the pattern of the wood.
“What are you doing there?” She whispered, afraid to wake Harry whose bedroom door was just down the hall from hers. It was closed and dark.
“There’s nobody else here.” Theo informed her and moved his feet out of her way, so that she may descend the stairs.
“They’re still working?”
Theo stood and gestured to the stairs. “Apparently.”
Hermione sniffed and took the stairs slowly, Theo right behind her. “What time is it?”
“Just after midnight.” Theo followed her into the kitchen where she quickly set to making tea.
She frowned down at the stove as the flame ignited. She watched the way it danced beneath the kettle, the air moving like a mirage. “Why are you still awake?”
“Because it’s my job.”
She looked over her shoulder to find him standing there, watching her. “I don’t know how I feel about you being sleep deprived while protecting me.” She mumbled.
Theo smirked and slid a hand into his pocket before he began to pace the kitchen, checking every corner. “I’ve gone longer stretches without sleep, Granger. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m not worried.” She might have been a little worried but she was currently still peeved with him for hauling her to Harry’s without permission.
She chewed on her lip, staring at the kettle as the pressure increased, steam already beginning to push out from the nozzle.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Theo finally asked, coming to lean against the kitchen counter.
She shrugged, putting a bag of chamomile tea into each cup. “Too much on my mind.”
“Are you scared?” The tea kettle screamed for only a second before she turned the flame off and removed it from the stove.
“No.” She lied and filled their cups.
Theo hummed, unconvinced, and watched as she busied herself with grabbing sugar and milk. She carried everything by hand. When she couldn’t sleep, which was unfortunately too often, she always spent her time doing everything without magic, trying to tire herself out.
She set the hot mugs down next and took a seat at the old, worn table. It was the same table they sat around with Remus and Tonks, Sirius...Fred. She shoved the thoughts away, angry at the lump developing in her throat.
Theo sat across from her and stared at her, as if waiting for her to revoke her lie about being afraid. Waiting for her to confess that she was terrified. She was angry. She was confused. She appreciated Harry and Draco’s attempts to keep her safe but...what about the other possible victims?
Draco appeared to be at the forefront of protecting her and that in itself caused conflicting emotions. If there had not been a killer out there, hunting witches of muggle descent, would he have reappeared? Would he had continued to stay out of reach? Would she have ever moved on?
She frowned and began to mix sugar and milk into her cup. Theo added milk, no sugar.
“Do you think they’ll catch the killer?”
“Yes.” Theo said, immediately. He took a sip of his tea. “Draco won’t stop until they’re behind bars. Or worse.”
She stared down at her tea, watched as the liquid continued to swirl, round and round even thought she had already stopped stirring it. She suddenly had so many questions. Questions about Draco and what he had been doing all these years.
Instad, she looked up at Theo and watched him as he sipped his tea. He watched her over the rim of his cup.
“How long have you been doing this?” She lifted a flippant hand. “Protecting principals.”
“Five years, on and off.”
“You’re a professional bodyguard?”
Theo smirked and lowered his cup, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”
She lifted her cup and took a sip. “How would you put it, then?”
“I said I protected principals on and off. In between those jobs, I was on the other side of things.”
Hermione lowered her mug and lifted a brow at him. “What does that mean?”
Theo didn’t reply, though. He just took a sip of his tea and tilted his head toward the kitchen door.
The Floo flared and then the low murmuring voices of Harry and Draco floated toward them.
She panicked, internally. She wasn’t prepared to see him. She still hadn’t shook the intensity of his gaze from earlier. The way it pulled at her skin, prickling along the nape of her neck.
She could feel him coming closer. Felt him approach the door before it swung open and revealed Harry’s tired face. Draco was right behind him, his eyes already on her. He had dark circles under his eyes and the stubble along his jaw had somehow sprouted more since this morning, darkening the planes of his face as he stepped into the dimly lit kitchen.
“You’re up.” Harry greeted them and nodded to Theo. Hermione lowered her eyes to the tea in front of her, feeling the burn against her cheeks as Draco continued to watch her. Watch her as he continued to moved to settle into a chair at the table, to her right.
She was suddenly aware of how much of her skin showed, even with the fluffy robe. She wore the same camisole and shorts she had on this morning. It was the only pair of pajamas she wore when she slept over at Harry’s.
She could feel his eyes scorching the exposed skin at her clavicle.
“You look exhausted, Harry.” She looked over at her friend who was now preparing another batch of tea, this time for him and Draco.
Harry shrugged. “How was dress shopping today?” He asked instead of responding to her observation.
She darted a glare at Theo who coughed into his mug.
“Awful.”
“Was it, though?” Theo murmured.
Draco leaned back in his seat and lifted a brow, intrigue branded into his eyes.
Harry looked over his shoulder. “What happened?”
“Theo wouldn’t leave the room.”
“I transfigured changing stalls for you three.”
He had, and that was fine. Except that Luna was utterly useless, and completely distracted by his presence, therefore giving no help when Ginny descended into three separate bouts of panic.
“And Ginny cannot decide on a color for the bridesmaids dresses.”
“I quite prefer the lavender.” Theo said, a smirk in his voice.
She rolled her eyes, but sighed. “I do too.”
Harry nodded as he carried the mugs over for him and Draco. “I always pictured there would be soft pinks or emerald greens.”
“What?” Hermione deadpanned. “You have opinions.” She paused. “About your wedding.”
“Well, it is partly for me, isn’t it?”
“Emerald green?” Draco asked, impressed. He looked over at Hermione, allowed his eyes to flick over her body and then shrugged. “That would look lovely on you.”
“It’s always about the bride.” Theo corrected Harry.
Hermione’s cheeks burned from the compliment that nobody else seemed to notice.
She felt itchy in her own skin. It made her even more restless. “Did you manage to ID the victim?” Hermione asked, changing the subject.
Harry sighed and nodded. “Yeah, she’s not registered with the Ministry, though. A band of gypsy’s just happened to report one of their witches missing this evening while we were running through the system. They identified her body. She had been missing for less than 24 hours when we found her.”
“My gods.” Hermione shook her head, eyes lowering to her tea. Draco’s eyes gazed at the side of her face. She could feel them, but refused to meet them with her own.
Harry looked up at Draco and sighed. “I think you should help us, actually.”
“What?” Both her and Draco asked at once.
“Look,” Harry reached into his back pocket and pulled out two pictures. He set them down on the table and Hermione winced at them.
One, was the photograph of a note written in blood. The other picture was the bare chest of a woman and in the center, between her breasts was a mark burned into her skin. The six petalled flower inside of a circle.
Her eyebrows pulled down and she could feel Draco leaned closer, observing her.
“That’s interesting.” She sniffed and leaned closer to the photo. “The rosette,”
“Rosette?” Harry interrupted.
“The six petalled flower,” She pointed to the photo of it. “It’s an old symbol denoting a couple of different meanings.”
“Such as?” Draco’s elbow pressed into the table, terribly close to her arm.
“Protection, against evil or diseases...” She paused and tilted her head as she recalled the other meaning often associated with the flower. “It can also represent purity.”
Draco stiffened beside her. “And the circle?”
“Circles are usually drawn to contain energy or to form a sacred space, providing some sort of magical protection from evil or otherwise ill will.”
“So you’re saying,” Theo leaned back in his chair, mug long forgotten on the table. “This mark represents protecting purity from evil.”
She bit down on her lip. Hard. She had heard this kind of rubbish before. Had been accused for being less than pure, and something otherwise awful.
“It would appear so.” She finally said, her eyes flicking to the note. “I recently read an article,” She chanced a look up at Draco, instantly regretting the hold his gaze had on her. She continued talking, despite her eyes being his. “How the population is steadily climbing within the magical community and some experts have said that it is because of more wizards and witches marrying and procreating with muggles, rather than more successful procreation rates amongst only the magical folks.”
“So this is a Purist.” Theo murmured and shook his head, disgusted.
“It would appear so.”
“We can start looking into the rest of the sacred twenty-eights first.” Harry nodded and picked up the photos, stuffing them into his pocket as he stood from the table. “I’m going to bed. Draco,” He looked down at his partner, who was till staring at Hermione.
She cleared her throat. “You should get some sleep, too.” She said quietly, begrudgingly, and then looked to Theo. “You, too.”
Draco’s face flashed with surprise, for just a second.
Harry sighed. “I am an Auror, you know. I never go to sleep without setting the wards, first. They’ll only allow in who I want. Hermione is going to be safe here with me.” He vowed.
She watched as Draco and Theo stared at each other for a long moment. When they both nodded, she found herself loosening a breath she had been holding. Her shoulders relaxed.
Thankful, she smiled up at Harry who smiled back, the fatigue marring the expression. Keeping it from reaching his eyes.
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insanegnomeposse · 2 years ago
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Dance with me, Nobody's watching
"Can't we just go together?" Fred asked, knowing the answer.
"We'd be expelled for sure." George said with both irritation and sadness. The two had been having this same conversation for the past two weeks. The Yule ball was coming up soon, and Fred has been insisting on them going together. The thought was taboo, to say the least, taking your own twin brother to a dance as formal as the Yule ball was. Two boys going together would cause enough commotion as it was, without them being related.
"I don't care if we're expelled at this point! I hate having to hide how I feel about you!" Fred was rather passionate about the topic; they had been hiding their relationship for close to four years. George hated having to hide too, though the thrill of sneaking their kisses was rather exciting, he wanted to be able to love his boyfriend as openly as everyone else was.
The day of the ball came rather quickly. Fred had finally dropped the subject of taking each other and agreed to finding other dates. George ended up taking Angelina Johnson, a Gryffindor from the same year as him that he knew from the quidditch team. Fred took Alicia Spinnet, another girl from their quidditch team. The two girls were close friends and got along quite well with the twins, though they had a hard time telling them apart.
The great hall was decorated with several tall evergreen pine trees and icicle like lights dangling from the ceiling. Everything was dusted with faux snow, looking much like a powdered sugar donut.
The boys spent most of their time joking with each other and their dates. But Angelina and Alicia didn't want to talk and joke forever. Alicia eventually convinced George to go onto the dance floor with her to slow dance. George held his hands on her waist, and she held hers around his neck. Alicia rested her head on George's chest, he was much taller than her. Fred wasn't the type to get jealous, but he hated watching George with Alicia. Angelina took Fred's hand and led him out onto the floor, far away from but still in eyesight of where George was. Angelina wrapped her arms around the back of Fred's neck and rested her chin on his shoulder. Her breath tickled his neck. Fred stared longingly at his brother from across the room. He wished it was George's arms around his neck.
Hours passed as Fred and Angelina shifted their weight from foot to foot, slowly spinning around in a circle. Fred looked back to George, who was seemingly in the middle of telling a joke to Alicia. Fred remarked to Angelina about how tired he was getting; she had been feeling the same way and suggested that they return back to their dorms. Fred walked Angelina back to her room in Gryffindor tower and left her with a kiss on the cheek before going to his dorm room.
Meanwhile, George and Alicia spent another hour dancing and joking in the great hall. Several people filtered out of the hall, some giggling others grumbling about having a horrible time. Alicia seemed to be having fun though, George worried that she would never want to stop dancing. Eventually her grip around George softened and she told him she was tired. They walked back to the tower and parted ways once they got to the girl's dorm.
When George returned back to his room, Fred was nowhere to be found. George, being quite tired himself, went to lay right on his bed. But he was stopped by a note left on his pillow that read with a smile "Meet me in the trophy room past the library."
George barely had to sneak out of the dorm, people were still staggering around the castle tired and sore feet from the ball. As he approached the trophy room, he could hear muffled classical music. Surely enough when he opened the door Fred was stood among the blinding trophies. He was still wearing his suit from the dance. He prompted George to close the door and he held his hand out, flashing a charming smile as he said, "May I have this dance?"
George took his brother's hand, and they began to dance. Fred planted his hand firmly on George's lower back, keeping his other hand clutched around George's. George stared at Fred, they may have had the same face, but George felt Fred was infinitely more handsome than he. His eyes were golden brown, his cheeks speckled with freckles like stars in the night sky, his lips rosy and curled, and his hair as red as the fire from a dragon's breath.
Fred removed his hand from George's waist and flung him out into a spin, quickly reclutching his waist to dip him. George's leg was near wrapped around Fred's backside. His eyes fluttered to Fred's lips which quickly met George's. The music playing faded into nothing when their lips met, everything felt right. George suddenly wished he was kissing Fred at the ball, instead of in the trophy room. He wished that he hadn't insisted on taking other dates. The thought of being expelled didn't matter to him when he was with Fred. Nothing mattered as long as they had each other.
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criticalbennifer · 10 months ago
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That Was Ben, This Is Now  By John Brodie, for GQ
May, 2001
Or is it Ben There, Done That? At age 28, Ben Affleck has become the poster boy for living large. Oscar? Check. Tabloid-fueled fling with a starlet? Check. Starring role in a $135 million epic about Pearl Harbor? Check. So what’s left to do? As John Brodie learns, plenty. (Did someone say Congressman Affleck?)
Ben Affleck has a date. Not with a Bond girl. Neither is it with the former Star Warsheroine the New York Post claimed he snogged, nor with Chelsea Clinton, whom the Star trumpeted as his “secret romance” last fall. No, tonight’s date is with what in industry parlance is known as a nonpro, a mere mortal, someone a buddy has set him up with. So, when I meet him at his three-story Hollywood Hills spread, I’m disappointed he’s not frantically slapping on some Jovan Musk.
Instead, he ushers me past his two Cadillacs (a 1969 Sedan de Ville and a 2000 DTS), and gamely agrees to talk about his personal life. “I’m not Mansion Guy,” he says, alluding to the way most men in his shoes would be raiding Hugh Hefner’s sugar shack. “I’ve literally gone back to that stage where you meet somebody and ask them, ‘Hey, you want to go out to dinner?’ I almost feel like I should be taking notes to report to Chuck Woolery.”
As we talk, he shows me around the five-bedroom home that Gwyneth Paltrow dubbed the Persian Conversion – her allusion to the design challenge Affleck faced in undoing the previous owner’s vision of domestic fabulousness (Southern California meets Middle East luxe). Affleck’s own style might be best described as Haute Machismo – what almost any guy in his twenties would dig. Most of us – thankfully – lacked the monetary muscle to actualize our crib dreams at that time in our lives; otherwise, we’d be stuck with living rooms featuring Bob Marley murals and stadium seats from Soldier Field.
But while Affleck has avoided these pitfalls of postcollege taste (a vintage Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid poster does, however, draw a bead on visitors as they enter the house), his home is like many that belong to single guys in their late twenties – this is a hostel where out-of-town buddies crash while in town. And it shows. As we enter a downstairs guest room, Affleck points out a single mark on the wood floor. “That’s where Matt Damon nearly burned my house down,” he says of his writing partner’s penchant for smoking in bed during his stay last summer. Down the hall, Affleck pushes open the door of the second guest room, and a bouquet of dirty linen, stale beer and nicotine tickles my nose. Perhaps if Keith Richards were in residence, this olfactory flashback to my freshman dorm would have a certain charm. But Affleck, staring at the mess kicked up by a friend’s brother whom he has hired as a Guy Friday, grunts and closes the door. Eager to leave the scene behind, we walk up two flights to the living room, the centerpiece of which is an antique pool table. Affleck suggests a game – but first offers me a draft Guinness from his bar. As he pills the tap, there is a gurgle, a sputter of brown foam, a hiss of air and, finally, nothing.
“This thing was full last time I was here,” Affleck mutters. After a moment of silence, he yells for his Guy Friday. When he appears, Affleck questions him about this unpleasant turn of events. Almost too predictably, the kid gives a mealymouthed answer about how “the keg guy was supposed to come by.” Surely, if we were in a cartoon, this would be the moment when Affleck’s eyes would spin, steam would shoot from his ears and he would yell in his best approximation of Fred Flintstone’s boss, “Guy Friday, you’re Guy Fired!” Affleck, however, merely shakes his head and tells the kid to leave the room.
“He’s like any knuckleheaded 19-year-old,” Affleck says to me. “I was like that when I was 19, but I can’t say, ‘Hey, fuck nut, you’re shitcanned!’ because he’s my buddy’s brother. So I end up saying, ‘Don’t drink all the beer, man.’”
Affleck pulls up a barstool. “I guess I’ve started to realize there’s some value in growing out of communal living, surrounding yourself with your friends all the time.” His voice is low and weary. He mentions he’ll soon sell this place, upgrade his New York digs and find a smaller, more secluded house in Los Angeles – because he’s noticed an additional law of physics that Sir Isaac Newton missed: The number of houseguests will rise to match the number of bedrooms in a house. His days of placing buddies on his payroll are over as well. He’s learned that the posse life never works out. It just breeds resentment, he says, because it’s impossible to be someone’s friend and his boss.
As our conversation continues, bouncing from his thoughts about Donna Tart’s novel, The Secret History, to the percentage of bonds in his portfolio, it dawns on me that a change has come over the 28-year-old since the last time I interviewed him, five years ago on the set of Good Will Hunting. Back then, he was a nobody, unable to get enough fool-born jests. Now that life of arm-punching and jokes seems to be wearing him. The gossip columns’ answer to Prince Hal is struggling to become Henry V.
He has flown to Los Angeles on this January afternoon for a mere eighteen hours. He has his date tonight. In the morning, there’s a board meeting for LivePlanet, the Internet/entertainment company he cofounded with Damon, American Pie producer Chris Moore and independent producer Sean Bailey. Then it’s back to New Yotk to finish shooting Changing Lanes, a drama about a New York lawyer who snaps after a fender bender. Costarring Samuel L. Jackson, the movie is essentially a big-budget art film in which Affleck will traverse terrain similar to that covered by Michael Douglas in Falling Down. After that, Affleck will get another $10 million to star in The Sum Of All Fears, the fourth installment in the Tom Clancy franchise. Taking over the role from Harrison Ford is not the only big move he’s making this year – this month he stars in Pearl Harbor, Disney’s $135 million entry in the summer blockbuster derby.
Meant to do for December 7, 1941, what Saving Private Ryan did for D day, Pearl Harbor marks Affleck’s second collaboration with the high-octane creative team of producer Jerry Bruckheimer and director Michael Bay. Unlike their last project (Armageddon), in which Affleck played the hot young pistol to Bruce Willis’s levelheaded hero, Pearl Harbor rests squarely on Affleck. Written by Randall Wallace, then pen behind Braveheart, the movie is a departure not just for Affleck but also for Bay; it’s his bid to make an epic rather than his usual action fare. In ambition, scope and tone, it’s closer to Titanic. Which means that Affleck, as the film’s emotional center, can’t fall back on his usual arsenal of quips and smirks to get him out of tight dramatic spots. If the film is to succeed, he must drop the crutch of irony and execute an acting triple jump of believability in heroic, tragic and romantic circumstances. In short, he has to grow up – be a leading man with the emphasis on man.
Bay knew all too well where the potential pitfalls lay with his star when he told The New York Times last year, “There are just certain Ben things I didn’t want in this.” When I asked Bay to clarify what he meant by “Ben things,” he responded, “I wanted a really heartfelt performance and sometimes Ben will say things with a little but of a smile. And I was trying to take that little smile out. I was always joking with him on the set: ‘No, Ben, don’t give me Forces Of Nature! Give me Pearl Harbor!’ And that would make the crew laugh.”
For most of the past year and a half, Affleck has indeed tried to work irony-free in movies like Boiler Room and Bounce. He reveals that he aspires to the level of craftsmanship of Nicolas Cage and Tom Hanks (“Hanks turned a volleyball into a character. That’s a pretty amazing feat”) but also admits that he still has a way to go. “There’s not a genre that I’m uncomfortable with. The frustration is that I feel I’m capable and confident in a lot of different areas, a jack-of-all-trades, but there’s not one where I feel I’ve found that next degree, that next level of mastery.”
When it comes to his professional life, however, Affleck’s desire for mastery extends beyond his acting career. A stalwart Clinton defender, he confides he fantasizes about running for Congress. He also hopes his Internet start-up will become his ticket to financial independence. “I look at a guy like Robert Redford. He’s got his Sundance Institute. Sometimes he directs. Sometimes he acts. But there’s not any pressure to keep doing it, and acting isn’t his sole means of supporting himself,” Affleck says by way of explaining motivations for moguldom. “I wouldn’t be unhappy to reduce the amount of acting I did and wait until I found something that was so moving or inspiring that I had to do it.”
But one has to wonder if, with the creation of LivePlanet, Affleck is acknowledging on some subliminal level that it’s not enough to be an actor pulling down $10 million a picture. As they say in Hollywood, there’s box office and then there’s bank. There’s being an actor for hire, and then there’s being the puppet master who pulls the strings. Lest we forget, one of the first swains seen squiring Paltrow around town after she and Affleck split was condiments baron Chris Heinz, son of the late U.S. senator and the scion of the ketchup fortune. What lesson should a guy take away from that other than: If you want to rock’n’roll with the Social Gen X Rays, you have to put your Gulfstream where you mouth is.
On September 29, 2000, Affleck met with Steve Jobs at the Apple Campus in Cupertino, California, to persuade him to sponsor a LivePlanet idea called Project Greenlight – a screenwriting conrest in which the winner (subsequently announced as Pete Jones, for his script Stolen Summer) gets $1 million to make a feature for Miramax Films. The timing for the sit-down with Jobs was not particularly propitious. The day before, Apple’s market capitalization had dropped almost 50 percent. Adding insult to injury, Affleck and Damon that week were on the cover of Fortune(headline: WHAT DO THESE GUYS KNOW ABOUT THE INTERNET?)- the same issue Jobs was holding when Affleck entered with his partners, Chris Moore and Sean Bailey.
Affleck and Co. began the meeting by citing Runner, one of LivePlanet’s hotter concepts, a TV reality show that will debut later this year on ABC. In the show, a contestant must trek across the country while viewers try to capture him for prize money. On his journey, the runner must “hit” certain destinations (such as a McDonald’s in Denver) during a prescribed window of time. With each episode the runner is not caught, the bounty on his head – as well as the prize money he can win – increases. (A companion Web site will allow armchair Tommy Lee Joneses to trade leads on the fugitive’s whereabouts.) If the runner is not captured, he wins $1 million.
Though Affleck and his partners had already raised $3 million in start-up funds for LivePlanet from an array of investors including movie executive Joe Roth and Oracle’s Larry Ellison (and would pick up an additional $12 million from other tech investors during the economic doldrums of last fall), they left without Jobs’s financial endorsement. It was one of many learning experiences for the actor on the road to becoming an entrepreneur. In fact, last summer LivePlanet was having a hard time being taken seriously by Apple’s ad agency, let alone the company’s business-development staff. If not for Affleck, however, the LivePlanet brain trust would not have met with Jobs. “When it’s time to get a big meeting, Ben’s not afraid to say, ‘I’ll make that phone call myself right now,’” says Bailey of his partner’s understanding of when and how to spend his celebrity capital. To get the meeting with Jobs, Affleck called Richard Cook, the chairman of the Walt Disney Motion Picture Group (and, as one of Disney’s top film executives, someone who had an interest in keeping the Pearl Harbor star happy). Cook had a good working relationship with Jobs, who is also the CEO of Pixar, the computer-animation company Disney put on the map with Toy Story. Cook called Jobs. Affleck got his meeting.
If Afflek simply wanted to cash in on his fame, however, he could have taken a Shatner huckster gig. To his credit, he dropped acting for six months to study the entrepreneurial world. Some of the cramming was financial: Affleck is the same investor who, several years ago, did not notice immediately when convicted financier-felon Dana Giachetto misappropriated into his own account $20,000 of Affleck’s savings, or when Giachetto invested $200,000 of Affleck’s and Damon’s money without their approval in a risky company called Global Source.
Some of the cramming was sociological: Dave Roux, a venture capitalist with Silver Lake Partners, whose firm invested in LivePlanet, remembers staring out the window of John Bentley’s, a Woodside, California, restaurant as a stretch limo ferrying Affleck and Co. pulled up. In Silicon Valley, Affleck learned he had to labor against the perception that people from Hollywood just want to get paid. “We were worried these guys might be doing this for a hobby,” says Geoff Yang, who has backed companies like Excite and now LivePlanet, “but every time we had a meeting with them and raised some concerns, they would come back and address those concerns and morph their thinking. That’s the mark of a really great entrepreneur.”
The transformation over the past four years from Good Will Hunting to Desperately Seeking Venture Capital, from leading man to business man, has brought a new set of challenges – like remaining true to his roots. For instance, whereas Elvis bought his mama a Cadillac, when it came time for Affleck to buy his mother a car, he opted for a Volvo. Of course, that may have something to do with the fact that the King was from Tupelo, and Affleck hails from Cambridge, Massachusetts, where his mother, Chris, an elementary-school teacher, still lives in the house where he and his younger brother, Casey, grew up.
Affleck’s mother raised them after his parents divorced when Ben was 11. His father, Tim, acted and directed with the Theater Company of Boston and held odd jobs around Cambridge before heading west, where he works as a substance-abuse counselor in Indio, California. For most of his adolescence, Ben was estranged from his dad; the two became closer when Ben went to L.A. to break into movies in his late teens. These days, they’ve reached a peace. Of the change from childhood rage to adult acceptance of his old man, Affleck tells me, “Your moral absolutism really begins to crumble. As you get older, you experience some of the grays in the world. Maybe you don’t ever forgive some things, but the things that bother you stop eating you up.” Affleck is still sensitive to how the press has reduced his father to the throwaway one-liner of “the alcoholic dad.” Almost as if to prove otherwise, he makes a point of showing me some of his father’s photography that hangs on his bedroom wall near a vintage photograph Gwyneth Paltrow gave him. One of his father’s images appears at first glance like a bright lunar landscape but, on closer inspection, reveals itself to be cars rusting away in the desert.
The perquisite of his fame that has brought him the most pleasure, however, is helping out his mom, as when he bought her a second home, on Cape Cod. About the car, Affleck adds that he wanted to get her a Lexus SUV with gold rims to cinch her image with her students as ghetto fabulous. “Puffy showed up at Matt’s birthday party, and I made my mom take a picture with Puffy, so the kids in her class already think she’s a goddess.”
A few weeks later, I meet up with Affleck on the Disney lot. He has returned from New York in order to complete additional photography on Pearl Harbor. As we sit in his trailer between setups, Affleck, decked out in an Eagle Squadron uniform, tells me about his latest Internet adventures. When I ask how his desire to be an Internet mogul jibes with his growing up in a pro-union, liberal household, Affleck responds, “My fantasy is that someday I’m independently wealthy enough that I’m not beholden to anybody, so I can run for Congress on the ground that everyday people – be they singers or poets or bankers or lawyers or teachers – should be in government. The government shouldn’t be controlled by a professional class of politicians.” He leans back and taps out a fresh cigarette from his pack. The moment is slightly surreal. Chatting about politics, the McCain-Feingold bill and term limits with a man in uniform, I fell as if I’ve just walked into the antimatter version of Ronald Reagan’s trailer on the Hellcats of the Navy set.
Realizing he is walking a fine line between political and pompous, Affleck cuts the seriousness of the moment with a flash of self-deprecation: “Not to get too Susan Sarandon on you,” he adds. He then takes the wink away and continues,” But part of what I’d get off on would be the oration, the speechmaking and the idea of leading. That’s the other problem in the modern focus-group presidency. Nobody leads anymore.”
On the subject of the modern focus-group presidency, I ask whether he still stands by Bill Clinton. (Affleck has two letters from the former president framed on the wall of his study; the only other politician whose missive hangs on this wall of fame is Senator Edward Kennedy.) Affleck takes a long drag of his cigarette before likening Clinton’s image problems with Monica Lewinsky to Miramax chief Harvey Weinstein’s reputation for bullying filmmakers into cutting their movies to fit his vision. “Harvey makes a lot of mistakes, just like anybody does, but it’s unfair to call him Harvey Scissorhands, especially when any other studio would say, ‘Fuck, we’re not even going to distribute those kinds of movies.’”
As he talks, I don’t know which is more unnerving: that the cochairman of Miramax Films and the former leader of the Free World are somehow equated in Affleck’s mind or that I don’t even blink at the comparison. Affleck goes on to say he finds it childish the way critics of the two are unable to separate their personal excesses from their professional accomplishments. Of Clinton, he asks and answers his own rhetorical question, “Who cares what you think he did with an intern? That’s not what you hired him for. You hired him to run the country.” He also was appalled by the shameless way members of the administration wrote self-serving tell-alls. Suffice it to say, George Stephanopoulos will not be getting the nod to hang at Ben’s loft in Tribeca anytime soon. Of Stephanopoulos’s All Too Human: A Political Education, Affleck offers this thumbnail literary critique: “That guy’s a Judas.”
The former commander in chief is not the only member of the Clinton clan Affleck will defend. He campaigned for New York’s junior senator. And he is a Chelsea supporter. When he spent time with Chelsea on Hillary’s campaign trail, he found her bright and “so aware of the scandal and so nonplussed by it.” Just then m his publicist appears at the door to the trailer. Unfazed, Affleck continues, “She has a shockingly idealistic belief in the power of public policy and government to change people’s lives for the better. In a world full of cynicism, she manages to be optimistic, which I was thunderstruck by. If it were me, I’d be plotting to firebomb Ken Starr’s house.” Figuring this is as good a time as any to surprise him, I pull from my satchel a copy of the Star that ran the cover that linked him with Chelsea. (CHELSEA HAS HOTS FOR BEN AFFLECK! Was the headline inside) Saying he was more amused than annoyed by the article, Affleck shows me how the paper took a podium shot from a political rally and cropped it so it would look as if Chelsea and the “movie hunk” were having a soulful tete-a-tete. He quickly adds, “I don’t know if it’s true that when that story ran, somebody called Hillary and said, ‘They’ve got Ben and Chelsea dating.’ Supposedly, she said, ‘Well it would probably be good for both of them.’ Which I have to assume means it would clean up my act and expose her to the real world.”
A knock on the trailer door, this time from a PA, indicates Affleck is needed back in his fighter plane, so I decide to quickly finish this round of truth or tabloid and check the veracity of the various liaisons in which the gossip columns have named him recently.
“Famke Janssen?” I ask, curious to know whether he has lived out every guy’s fantasy of having a Bond girl.
“She’s somebody I know. We were at dinner with a bunch of other people. Then, by the time it got to the tabloids, we were like dry fucking on the table. But no. Nice girl. Friendly. A sweet person, but, c’mon, she just got divorced. Shoshanna? Same deal. Not dating her.”
And as he buttons up his uniform, I wonder how short a trip it would be from playing the hero of Pearl Harbor to walking the halls of Congress. Affleck has learned from experience that no matter how hard you try, perception outstrips reality; otherwise people would know him as a guy who spends his leisure time shooting hoops, reading, writing, e-mailing and having a beer with his buddies. Instead, he is the crown prince of the bicoastal demimonde, the alpha-male Kabuki figure of our media-drenched society. “I’m envious of my tabloid self,” he says, underscoring the difference between who he is and what he is. Then he slips into character, steps out the door and heads back to the set, ready to make the cinematic world safe for democracy.
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usfreehealthcare · 1 year ago
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body's biological clock
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Your internal clock regulates the actions and behaviors of different parts of your body, and if you disrupt it, it can interfere with your daily activities. What is a biological clock?This question has probably been on your mind: What is the body's biological clock? Do we have clocks in our bodies? What does the biological clock do? What should our body do every hour? Why do we sleep at night and work during the day? Why do I always sleep at night and do tasks and activities during the day? How do our metabolism, behavior and sleep relate to our biological clock? If these questions bother you, don't worry. Go with your doctor and read this article to the end to find out the answer.
What is the body's biological clock?
Three researchers have been awarded the Nobel Prize for work that helped us understand the biological clock, or clock, of each cell. The Nobel Prize Committee said of the work of Jeffrey Hall, Michael Rosbash and Michael Young: . Hormone levels, sleep, body temperature and metabolism. Humans are time sensitive machines. Also, in order for our body clock to work harmoniously, it appears that we need to sleep and eat at regular times. Studies show that when you interrupt your body's natural sleep and wake times with activities like night shifts, intercontinental air travel, or sleeping through the night with your baby, it pays off. Disrupting your body's sleep schedule raises your blood pressure and affects your hunger hormones and blood sugar levels. What is circadian rhythm? Circadian rhythm is a 24-hour cycle that encompasses behavioral, physical, and mental changes and describes behavior during this cycle. When dealing with circadian rhythms, the body responds differently to different clocks. For example, go to bed at certain times of the day. Or you tend to eat at certain times of the day. Sometimes the energy will be low and other times the energy will be high. It all depends on your behavior, your body, the hormones released by your body and mind and their cycles. The body's biological clock, or body clock, regulates this circadian rhythm and is present in all organisms. Every cell and organ has a biological clock, a protein located in these cellular structures. This molecule is found in a variety of organisms such as humans, fungi, bacteria and plants and serves as the body's biological clock. What is a Bodymaster watch? According to Nygma, your body's master clock, or master clock, is the part of your brain that contains 20,000 functional neurons that regulate circadian rhythm activity. This master clock is located in the hypothalamus and receives information and data directly from the source. What problems do circadian clock disorders cause? Sure, we all experience odd situations like waking up at night or not falling asleep on time, which can happen from time to time, but in the long run, going against your biological clock can lead to increased weight. Metabolic diseases, such as type 2 diabetes. Fred Turk, a body clock researcher, said: “What is happening in this case is that there is a serious misalignment of the body's internal clock. It can be one of the main causes of chronic diseases. In today's society we face." For example, let's see what happens when we eat something in the evening or in the middle of the night. The body's master clock, which is regulated by the change in light from day to night, tells multiple body clocks when it's time to rest at night. But we distort this message by eating on time. For example, when you are resting, the pancreatic clock must release insulin for the food you eat. Researchers believe that constantly eating at the wrong times can disrupt your body clock. As a result of this disordered diet, different parts of the body fight against natural time. Turek says: In this case, the pancreas works and waits for a signal. But nutrition doesn't match what our brain is telling us right now. As a result, if you send signals to one part of your body at the wrong time, for example, if you don't eat on time, your body is out of balance. How does the biological clock affect health? Circadian rhythms have very important effects on our body, including: body temperature control food intake and digestion the secretion of hormones in the body   The first thing that shows the change and confusion of the circadian rhythm is also sleep. People with disrupted circadian rhythms or body clocks also have disrupted sleep patterns. One of the main reasons for this is that the body's sleep control center is located in the hypothalamus, where melatonin, or the sleep hormone, is produced and secreted. The release of this hormone is light dependent. When the light is high, the brain does not allow the production of melatonin in large amounts, but when the light is low, this message is received from the optic nerve and sent to the brain, which increases the amount of melatonin and causes sleepiness. How does the biological clock work? There are indications that our bodies may be more sensitive during this time than scientists previously thought. For example, a 2013 study found that meal times affect weight loss. In addition to weight control, there are indications that your body clock and sleep duration, diet and activity play an important role in your physical health. It's important to remember that different parts of the body are designed to do different things at different times of the day. For example, doctors have long known how the length of time a drug is taken affects its strength. "Taking the drug at certain times of the day can have toxic effects," says Turk. “Part of this is because the liver detoxifies better at certain times of the day. "We hope to be able to study thousands of different electrical currents in the body, verify their coordination and maintain the body clock in its natural state," the researchers said. We must not forget that these findings were made at a time when social and work trends are forcing our biological clocks to change constantly. Can you adjust your body's biological clock? A variety of events can disrupt the body's biological clock. I can't figure out how to fix this in this case. That's why we need competent help! Below, we've tried to help you adjust your body clock. Sometimes intense activity can disrupt or change your sleep and eating habits for a while. Sometimes you may need to live or travel to another country for work and holidays, where working hours differ greatly from your home country. Imagine that they are traveling to a country at night while you are in the day. In this case, the time difference is very large. Traveling to these countries can disrupt your body clock and cause jet lag. In English, jet lag refers to a condition in which you cannot sleep because it interferes with sleep and rest. If your body is confused and you cannot sleep, you will face many problems. The main problems are fatigue and headaches. Give your body time to adjust to your biological clock. Imagine going somewhere wasting 3 hours of your time. If you wake up at 7am in a new city, your biological clock is still at 4am. So you wasted 3 hours. It is best to adjust to these changes within a few days, complete your work on time and act as before. Your body will gradually get used to it. Is there a biological clock test? Does each organism have its own circadian rhythm? Yes! The major genes effective in regulating human circadian clocks and circadian rhythms are the periodontal and cryptochromic genes. These genes work more at night and less during the day to make proteins and prepare the code in the cell nucleus. Studies on fruit flies have shown that these proteins play an important role in alertness, alertness, sleepiness and other activities. These genes are unique to each individual. Of course, not only is the circadian cycle gene-based, but its regulation also depends on environmental signals. Light is he one of the most important environmental stimuli.  The test is designed to determine the body clock. Frequently asked questions about your body's biological clock. Read the full article
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parkerbombshell · 2 years ago
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whatohitsonfirewelp · 3 years ago
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Based on this post I made
Oliver frowned at the twins who sat on the other side of the table. “What’re you talking about?”
One of them, Fred maybe, turned towards him with a grin. “Just that Percy is the weakest physical in our family and that’s saying something with Ron being our brother.”
Ron, who had been talking with Harry and Hermione quietly, turned around and glared at his brothers. Harry and Hermione had both given Fred, (or was it George? Oliver wasn’t sure) the stink eye and shifted closer to their friend in comfort.
“I know what you’re talking about,” Oliver said with a hint of annoyance in his voice now, “I wanna know why you think that.”
Others at the table had started to turn their heads towards them in interest, Oliver was annoyed and a bit baffled to see that everyone was looking at him incredulously. As if he was the one who had said something that made no sense.
“Because it’s Percy?” George said in confusion.
Others around them nodded along as if that was all the information they needed to decide that. Before he could say anything a first year started snickering, Oliver turned his head and saw Percy walking into the Great Hall with a cup of coffee in his hands. Probably had five spoonfuls of sugar with his sweet tooth, at least.
Turning towards the twins he gave them a manic smile, “If I run and leap at Percy, he will most certainly catch me in his arms.” Oliver said with a confidence that he didn’t even have going into a quidditch match.
Lee choked on his pumpkin juice while the twins stared at him with open mouths.
“Oliver,” Hermione started off nervously as she looked at him with wide eyes.
But Oliver didn’t let her finish, he jumped off the bench and turned towards Percy who was busy talking to a first year, probably about homework from the looks of it.
Oliver sent the other a grin, everyone was watching now and he could see the professors glancing at him warily.
“Coming in!” Oliver yelled as he started running towards Percy at full speed.
Percy’s head shot, curls bouncing slightly, his eyes widen in alarm. “No! I’m holding coffee!” He yelled in alarm.
Too late now, Oliver thought as he jumped into his roommates arms with a wide grin. Percy had dropped the coffee just in time, he stood there with Oliver in his arms and a mournful look on his face as he looked at the shattered mug and spilled coffee.
“Couldn’t have waited until I finished my cup could you?” Percy muttered as he shifted the other boy in a more comfortable position.
“I don’t even know how you can call that coffee, it’s basically just a cup of sugar.” Oliver said rolling his eyes as he grinned at everyone else.
Percy blinked at him for a moment before looking around and turning pale, Oliver couldn’t help but stare at the way his freckles stood out on his now very pale skin.
But he had to be a good friend instead of a lovesick idiot first, Oliver tore his eyes away and looked at everyone else. Everyone, and Oliver meant everyone, was staring at them. His eyes flickered towards the Ravenclaw and Slytherin table, he saw Marcus and Penny looking at them with amusement.
Assholes, Oliver thought fondly. Of course those two would happily sit back and watch instead of helping.
“Oh bloody fucking hell,” Percy muttered dazedly.
An odd noise came from the Gryffindor table at that, Percy must have said that louder than he thought. He also must have realized this by the red blush that was climbing up his neck.
“What the fuck,” A student whispered to themselves.
That was the breaking point for Penny apparently. The girl snorted before slapping her hands over her mouth with a mortified look.
“Oh wow, real smooth Clearwater,” Marcus muttered before freezing.
“Real smooth,” Penny mocked.
Oliver decided to ignore them and instead turned towards the twins and other Gryffindors, “Still think he’s the weakest?”
Percy frowned in confusion before glaring down at Oliver. “You made me drop my coffee because you wanted to defend my honor!?”
Oliver shrugged, “Well, yeah- wait, wait Percy doNT!”
Percy dropped Oliver.
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weasleylangs · 4 years ago
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opposites attract - f.w.
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Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff Fem!Reader Summary: The quiet, Hufflepuff bookworm has captured the heart of the mischievous Gryffindor.  Warnings: none! Word Count: 2k
A/N: For the anon that asked for Fred with a Hufflepuff reader who he’s uncharacteristically sweet for! I’m sorry it took so long, I hope you (and everyone else who reads it) enjoys it!! 
P.S let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list!
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Y/N sits in charms, completely zoned out. Charms was always her best subject and she was luckily one of those ‘never study, always pass’ students. The same could not be said about her boyfriend, however, who was sitting across the room trying to tickle his best friend with his quill and distract him.
Y/N and Fred were an unusual couple, and no one understood how the shy Hufflepuff girl managed to catch the mischievous Gryffindor’s attention. Fred’s idea of a good time was turning the corridor into a swamp or roughhousing during quidditch practise whilst Y/N’s was curled up in front of a fire, a nice book in her hand. But no one questioned it, because somehow they made it work.
Fred caught her eye and winked. They’ve been dating for six months now and he never gets tired from the shy look on her face when he looks at her. She shakes her head, hiding behind her hair and turning her attention back to Flitwick as he drones on about their assignment. 
When the bell rings, signalling next period, Fred’s across the room in no time. Y/N has her head down, grabbing her notebook and quill when Fred snatched them out of her hand whilst simultaneously grabbing her bag from the floor. “I’ll carry them for you, love,” he said, smiling.
This wasn’t unusual behaviour. Before the couple got together, everyone always thought Fred was a flirt and was hooking up with different people every weekend, and whilst they were right at the time, Fred is absolutely whipped for his badger girlfriend and hasn’t even looked at another girl since their first date. He’s always wanting to carry her books or he’s slinging an arm around her shoulder.
She has him wrapped around her finger and he couldn’t care less.
“You don’t have to do that, Freddie. You know my bag is heavy,” she says trying to grab the bag from him. Fred only takes three classes, considering the three O.W.L’s he received in their fifth year, meaning sometimes he only has one class a day. However, Y/N managed to receive ten, only failing History of Magic (‘Who fucking cares?’ was everyone’s response), resulting in her having multiple classes a day and therefore a very heavy bag. 
Fred, of course, shrugs it off, “I’m a beater, darling. Nice and strong. I can barely tell that you have five textbooks in here,” he says as he winks and causes Y/N’s face to heat up as she swats him on the chest. “I’m just saying you don’t have too, I can carry my own bag,” she pouts. While she knows Fred is more than happy to lug her bag around, she hates the idea that he’s only doing it out of obligation to be a ‘good boyfriend’. 
These insecurities aren’t new. She hears what people say about them and it doesn’t bother her for the most part. Just there’s only so many times she can handle people she’s not even friends with talking about how ‘Y/N isn’t right for Fred’. 
“You have potions now, yes?” Fred asks, pulling Y/N out of her worries as she follows Fred through the corridors. That’s another thing she never expected, Fred learnt her timetable when they started dating so he could always walk her to class. “I do, Freddie. You have a free right, are you spending it with George and Lee?” 
Fred nods, “I sure am, we’re meeting in the One-Eyed Witch passage to pop down to Honeydukes too, you need anything?” Y/N frowns at this. “Freddie, that passage is on the third floor on the other side of the school. You don’t have to walk me to potions,” she tries to grab her bag from him again and he shakes his head.
“Darling, what part of ‘I want to do this’ do you not understand?” While his tone is sharp, he’s not angry. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever seen Fred this serious, a glint of cheekiness is always present in his eyes but right now, he looks about as serious as Snape when talking about proper cauldron care. 
“I just don’t want to keep you from the boys,” she whispers, tugging at the sleeves of her robes. They stop walking, and Fred drags her body into a hug. “The boys are fine waiting, now do you want anything from Honeydukes.” 
She falters for a second, just enjoying being in his presence. Despite the short amount of time they’ve been dating, Y/N knows what she feels for him is love and she can only hope the tall ginger boy feels the same way in return. His embrace can only be described as comfort, all Y/N’s worries rushing away as his familiar scent of firewood and cinnamon fills her senses.
“Some sugar quills, please,” she mumbles into his robes. “Anything for you,” he replies, pulling away and grabbing her hand. “C’mon, you’re going to be late for potions.” 
-
It’s after dinner by the time Y/N catches Fred again. She’s walking out of the Great Hall when she feels her robes get tugged on and she almost falls over. 
“Hi,” Fred says, “some sugar quills for my sugar quill.” 
Y/N cringes at the cheesy nickname as she thanks him, popping the sweets into her robe pockets, “What are your plans for tonight?” Fred shrugs, more quiet than usual as he plays with Y/N’s fingers. “Nothing, I was… I was wondering if I can come and hang in the Hufflepuff common room with you?” 
He’s shy and Y/N almost coos at it. Fred ‘no filter when he speaks’ Weasley is blushing as he asks his girlfriend to spend some time with her in her house common room, this is a once in a lifetime happening. 
“Of course, Freddie. Any reason why?” It’s not that she doesn’t want him spending time with her. But Fred’s never expressed an interest in spending the night in, rather opting to terrorise Filch or another teacher after dinner.
“You like spending your evenings reading in front of the fire. I feel like I’ve barely seen you today,” he whispers. At this, she decides not to torture the poor boy any further and grabs his hand. “C’mon,” 
They arrive at the common room in no time, no one batting an eye at the Gryffindor waltzing into the common room where he doesn’t belong. In fact, he gets quite a few “Hi Fred’s!” from people in their year. He’s always been popular and well known, so of course, the house of kindness is happy to have him.
“I’m going to run up to my dorm and change, are you sure you’re okay?” Fred nods, sitting himself down on the soft yellow chair in front of the fire. It’s Y/N’s favourite chair to read in and Fred knows it. “Sure am, hurry back before I freeze to death.”
Y/N speed changes, switching out her uniform for some sweatpants, one of Fred’s old jumpers and her favourite fuzzy sock. While she’s up there, she grabs a spare sweater she’s stolen from Fred for him to change into and her copy of ‘Frankenstein’ from her nightstand and rushes back downstairs and straight into Fred’s lap. “Hi,” she whispers, kissing him on the cheek. 
Fred hums a hello as he settles into the soft pillows of the couch. Y/N perches herself next to him, slinging her legs across his lap with her back against the arm rest. “What’s it about?” Fred asks, gesturing to the book she’s just opened. He knows Y/N’s love for muggle books and he loves hearing her talk about them, even though he never understands. “A scientist who creates a ‘monster’ through experiments… It’s one of my favourites.” 
She waves the book in Fred’s face and sure enough, the sticky notes and the plastic tabs are sticking out, referencing all her favourite parts. “It sounds cool, can I read it after you?” 
Y/N is shy about this. Books are very important to her and she feels her sticky notes and writing in the margins are her deepest thoughts, a peep into her soul. But the boy in front of her owns her heart, every single part of it, and she decided then and there, she wants to share every part of herself with him. “Sure, but you have to promise to not judge my notes.” 
He could never, the Hufflepuff girl in his lap turns his heart to mush no matter how much he tries to hide it and he can’t even imagine hurting her. He holds his pinky out, “I promise,” he says as she hooks her own with his and he presses a kiss to her forehead. 
They sit in silence for a while. Fred starts conversing with members of the Hufflepuff quidditch team (“We’re going to crush you next week, Kirke” she hears Fred say at one point and she has to nudge him with her knee to not start a brawl in the common room) while Y/N reads. At one point, her hand ends up in Fred’s hair, playing with the short strands at the nape of his neck. 
When she does this, Fred leans into her touch and his eyes flicker shut for only a second. She thinks she’s finally found a way to quiet him down and she makes a mental note to play with his hair next time she wants to get some reading done. 
The time starts to near 10pm as Y/N starts yawning, and as much as Fred would love to stay, he knows he’ll have enough trouble getting back to Gryffindor tower without George, Lee and their trusty Mauraders Map. “I should probably get going, darling,” Fred mutters after a while and when he looks at his girlfriend, she’s pouting.
“I wish you could stay,” she says and when Fred cocks his eyebrow she laughs, “not like that, you git!” 
She quickly stands, pulling Fred’s gangly body up from the couch and into her arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, we have double Defence,” Fred says laughing and she feels his chest rumble with laughter. “Too long,” she mumbles in reply. When Y/N gets tired, she gets clingy which was one of the earliest things Fred ever learnt about her. It’s always one of the cutest things about her.
He walks to the portrait hole, his small girlfriend clinging to his body and he presses a soft kiss to her hairline before detaching her. “Darling, I have to go.”
He feels terrible. He knows she isn’t being clingy to make him feel bad, she genuinely just wants to spend time with him. She yawns again, eyes scrunched closed as she stretches her arms that somehow end up wrapped back around his waist. 
“Okay, you can go,” she gives him one final squeeze before letting him go and looking up at him and before Fred can stop himself the words are slipping out.
“I love you.” 
This wakes her up immediately and her eyes are wide as she looks at him, “R-really?” 
Fred was going to pretend he never said it, worried it was both too early and that she didn’t feel the same way. But the way she’s looking at him, glints of happiness in her eyes and the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her face he knows now is the right time.
“I do, I love you.” 
She jumps on him again, pressing her lips to his. Her lips are soft against his, they always are and the kiss is filled with love and adoration. Neither of them is aware of how long they stand there, embraced in each other’s arms until they’re barely kissing anymore, their smiles too wide. 
“I love you too, Freddie. I love you more,” she says, full seriousness in her face. “Oh love, you won’t win this argument.” He presses a kiss to her lips again before slinking out of the portrait hole, leaving Y/N standing with her fingers pressed to her lips smiling. 
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poisonheadcrabsalesman · 3 years ago
Text
Valentine’s Day Brunch?
Veta and her kids. Her wonderful, teenage war crimes.
-
"Mom. Mom. Mom."
She's awake as the first syllable passes Ash's lips but she waits a few seconds to see if they really need her. Her kids have gotten better about asking for help and she does listen, but it's her first day off in way too long and seeing how she can't smell smoke and heard no crashes or gunshots, she isn't eager to roll over and face whatever nonsense they might ask her this time.
Still, they're her kids, she loves them and will fight to the death for them. So maybe it takes her a second, but she does roll over and greet them with a groggy "What did you do?"
"We made you breakfast!" Olivia butts in, elbowing past Ash whose face is contorted in mock hurt, her hands holding coffee and some kind of pink drink. Mark brings up the rear with 'breakfast'.
"Oh? Thanks." The coffee is accepted happily but she eyes everything else with suspicion. There's a mostly burnt bagel with two sealed packs of strawberry flavored fruit preserves and a bowl of what possibly might pass as oatmeal topped with a smiley face made of granola and banana chip eyes. It's sweet and looks almost edible.
"The mess has Valentine's day stuff!"
"They had donuts!"   
"Had donuts?" Veta points out the past tense. 
"To be fair, there weren't that many of them, and they're mostly air. Have you had donuts before? They aren't filling." Ash is babbling and Veta realizes they haven't had this much sugar before. What were supersoldiers like on a sugar rush?
"They were good though! Really sweet and some had fillings." Mark replies and Olivia nods.
"How many did you guys eat?" Veta asks, not allowing the small amount of fear she was feeling leak into her voice. Her eyes catch on the pink frosting in the corner of Olivia's mouth and the powdered sugar on the end of Mark's nose.
Her ferrets stared back at her in silence, calculating their best answer.
"Are you banned from that specific mess hall?"
"No!"
"Maybe?"
"Yeah..."
There's a knock at the door and she fixes them with a look before shooing them to the side and attempting to make herself presentable so she can defend her 3 sugar fiends. Really, what military ship can't prepare enough food for three 19 year olds, they're just like that. Growing kids, strong appetites.
Excuses in place, Veta keys the door open to see Fred standing there. He's got a drink carrier with yogurt and fruit cups as well as two large coffees from the officer's lounge. She knows the cups because he sneaks her some when he's snuck in there to work in the early hours.
"Morning Inspector, I, uh, got you some stuff, since I was in the area." He shifts his weight under her gaze, "They were supposed to have donuts but I guess I missed them, but I got coffee!"
His genuine tone is their undoing as Mark snorts and Olivia, seeing that their cover is broken as Fred's shocked face looks over at them hiding in the corner, lets out a long "awwww" that Ash joins in.
The Lt. blushes and clears his throat, but before he can sputter some response, Veta grabs the coffee and loops her arm in his.
"It's sweet. Thank you for thinking of me." She strides out of her room, pulling the dumbfounded Spartan along, "Besides, those three have drills and a lot of sugar to work off."
The Ferrets groan in unison but it's muffled as her door slides shut. Fred recovers and walks alongside her, slightly stooped and hiding a smile behind his own coffee.
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dirt-cup-draco · 3 years ago
Text
Tethered- Fred x Reader
‘Don’t ever scare me like that again’ kiss with Fred where he lives (I’ve been crying about it lately) xoxo @starofthedawn
Your chest was tied up in knots, eyes burning and bile rising in your throat. The dust that permeated the air felt like gravel in your airways and you couldn’t help the wet cough that slipped past cracked lips. Even as you blinked away the tears that were running out, the world remained blurry and unfocused. 
After all, how could anything make sense when Fred was face down on the cobblestone. Pieces of the castle you two had called home burying him. 
“Lost in my eyes again, Y/N?” Fred asked, a playful tilt to his mouth. You were in the library, head buried in a book and not at all gazing into Fred’s honeyed eyes. You must’ve not heard him come in so when you looked up and saw him you couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in your chest. 
You liked the way his lips were pulled up by an invisible thread as you finally took notice of him.  It wasn’t quite a smile, but a familiar expression that you held dear to your heart. It was understated, especially for Fred Weasley, but the expression was one of his most sincere. 
“Can’t help the fact you’ve got dreamy eyes, George,” 
“Sod off,” Fred said with no real venom, sitting in the chair beside yours and kicking his feet up onto the table. He was lucky Madam Pince didn’t often come to this corner of the library, otherwise she’d have his head.
You stuck your tongue out at him, even daring to toss a quill at his head- but before you could he caught your hand and held on tight. Your bright grin wavered at the edges but that joy was still blooming in your chest. Suffocation was a sure thing. 
“Everything okay, Freddie?” Voice soft, slow. You understood sometimes he just needed a hand to hold and you wouldn’t let yourself believe it was more than that. What it was, was Fred trusting you and needing you as a friend and that was more than enough. 
He nodded, his eyelids heavy and his demeanor sluggish. He almost seemed like a sleepy cat but you could see the way his shoulders dipped as you posed your question. 
Fred squeezed your hand as he sank down into his chair, knees now drawn to his chest in a protective ball. “Course I am, nothing could ever be wrong when I’ve got you to tether me to what’s good,” 
--
Your knees buckled as you stumbled the last foot to where Fred lay. Unmoving, broken, probably not breathing- You shook your head wildly even as the tears burned and your brain ached. Just like every other wizard, every other soldier at Hogwarts today, you had your fair share of injuries but you felt the pain dull to nothing; Your vision tunneled to the familiar hand that stuck out from the rubble, the feather soft shock of red hair that was visible under all the grey, lifeless stone. 
With a flick of your hand, some of the rubble broke loose and found themselves discarded on the burned and torn up grass ten feet from you. The panic pounding at your ribcage was only eased by the determination you felt to get Fred out of there, alive. There was no other option. 
Waves would stand still without the moon, plants would dry up without water, and you would cease to be anything but a shell without Fred Weasley. 
--
It had been an honest mistake at the time, George had tugged you away after class one day to an empty corridor and nearly begged you to ask Fred and put the both of you out of your “self sabotaging misery”. Problem was, all Katie Bell saw was George whisking you away somewhere private a week before the ball was to commence, both of you dateless. 
By the time you had both gone to the great hall for lunch, your group of friends were deep into speculations. 
“Going to the ball with Y/N then?” Fred fixed George with a look you couldn’t quite decipher but the shock of him thinking such a thing had you missing that usual twitch of his eye when he was aggravated. 
George whipped his head to you in confusion but it went unnoticed when Lee said, “Great! Of course you two got dates before me,” gesturing wildly to the twins. 
All of the confusion had your head spinning but hearing that Fred had a date to the ball made you steady again, the lead pit in your stomach anchoring you. Anyone would be a fool to not want to go with Fred. 
“You’ve got a date?” You said a bit too loudly, eyes narrowed at Fred. 
“Asked Angie,” 
“Yeah, two minutes ago,” She snorted. “Guess he didn’t want George to beat him by too much of a landslide,”  
George let out a too-loud laugh and tossed his arm back over your shoulders. “Take that Lee, we got two of the hottest girls in school to be our dates,” 
“Go with me instead and I’ll buy you as many sugar quills as your heart desires, Y/N” Lee bargained and George swatted him on the back of a head with a faux glare. 
You couldn’t help but snort at Lee’s antics, looking at George with gratitude. You could tell he was trying to talk you up, keep your heart from falling too far. However, his efforts couldn’t completely ease the ache in your chest. You were tethered to Fred and you didn’t think anything could change that. 
--
You’d done your best to completely immobilize Fred when most of the rubble was removed, only some of the smaller chunks of wall now littered over his legs and back. The immobulus charm had to be enough to keep him stable. If he was still alive. 
It was the uncertainty that kept you going in this moment. If there was even a slim chance Fred could be alive, you would do all you could to save him. You refused to lose him and that was that. You wished you could see his chest moving, or any sign of life but he was still too buried and the dust that settled over the battlefield made your eyes unfocused. 
Even though the final battle had ended an hour or more ago, how long had it been since you’d found Fred?, you were shut off from any of the joy that the win could have brought you. If Fred wasn’t going to be there to celebrate then how could you? 
“We’ve got to fix up the shop a-and get butterbeers,” You sniffled, trying to keep your hands from shaking as you worked your way through the rubble. You kept speaking as if holding Fred to his promises would bring him over the threshold and into your waiting arms. 
“You’ve got to give me that birthday present you’ve been bragging about for months, and you’ve got to help me prank Lee for singeing my favorite sweater with one of your fireworks,”
And on and on you went, all of the promises Fred had ever made you falling from your lips as you pulled the last of the rubble from his body. One of his legs and all of the fingers on his right hand were bent at grotesque angles. There was a line of blood that started somewhere behind his hairline and trailed down his temple, dripping off of his jaw and onto the ruins he had nearly become a permanent part of. 
You wouldn’t permit your legs to shake as you stood, the sun being further down in the sky than you remembered. The wave of your wand was light and methodical even as every step towards help weighed you down. 
Time passed you without you taking note, the sun sank beneath the horizon and you stumbled your way through the dark. Eventually, you were taken off guard by the light of someone’s wand. Time caught up to you then as you stared with bleary eyes, trying to recognize the face before you but having a hard time sorting anything in your over exhausted brain. 
“Help him,” Was all you had energy for, before darkness took over. 
--
“...understand how she did it,” 
“...miracle, really,” 
“Poor girl must’ve....” 
Conversations floated around your head as you lay cemented underneath the sheets that you had been securely wrapped in. You wanted nothing more than to swat them away like pesky flies, the voices weren’t loud but to you it was as if someone had put a speaker in the empty space of your skull and turned the volume up as high as it could go. Everything ached. 
“Am I dead?” You croaked, eyelids still too heavy to even attempt opening. 
Immediately, a woman nearly screamed and a cacophony of other voices rose up- both familiar and not. 
“You look like you wish you were,” Someone joked to your left and your eyes snapped open so quickly you became dizzy. You felt frozen in place as honey eyes swept over you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Despite being covered from the chin down you felt as if you were being looked through. A shiver ran down your spine and it was followed by a deep ache that had you groaning despite the emotions bubbling up within you. 
“Damn you Fred,” Was all you had to say before everyone else around you was clearing out. For a split second you felt guilt when you realized your parents as well as the Weasleys had come to stand beside you as you healed. 
“I’ve come back from the brink of death and that’s what you have to say to me?” He teased but his voice was torn to shreds and you had the terrible image in your mind of him screaming for help until he lost consciousness. The blood drained from your face. 
Fred seemed to take notice as he shuffled out of his bed that was right next to yours. He paused at the edge, fumbling for the crutches that were at his bedside. It felt like years the time it took for him to fall into the chair nearest you, his hand stretching for yours. 
You moved pathetically against the sheets but in your weakened state you couldn’t grasp his hand. “Freddie,” You croaked, eyes filling with tears in frustration. You’d thought him dead and now you couldn’t even move a damn blanket to touch him, to make sure this wasn’t a dream. 
“I’m here,” He reassured, moving the sheets on your side gently until your hand was free and you could tangle your fingers with his non-broken hand. 
“How?” 
“I’ve been telling you for years now, you’re my tether. Just when I thought I was going to cross over, I heard you. All the promises we made, and all the chaos we have yet to make, all the things I haven’t said,” Fred’s bottom lip trembled as he brushed his thumb over your scabbed knuckles. You were faintly aware of a needle in your forearm, attached to an IV but all that mattered was the warmth you felt from Fred. 
“You could break them all and I’d still be counting my lucky stars that you’re here,” You cried, falling into a coughing fit. Fred was quick to press a still cold glass of water into your hands and help you sit up even from his place on his chair. 
“I’m not going anywhere,” He promised, hand remaining at the back of your neck as he settled you against your pillows. That genuine not-smile was back and you chewed on your lip to keep from crying again. You still weren’t sure he was here so any reminder that it was really him had you at a breaking point. 
“Can you make me one more promise then?” You caught his gaze but found you couldn’t hold it, the intensity making your stomach swoop and your heart pound against your rattled ribcage. 
Fred had yet to move, his hand steady behind you and his face close. Your noses were nearly touching as he said, “Anything.” 
“Don’t scare me like that ever again,” 
You chanced one more look at him, eyes wide and pleading. You were going to make him promise on everything in him but the rest of your words were lost when you stumbled over the loud adoration in his eyes. As if on autopilot, you removed your hand from his to brush your fingertips against a gash on his cheek. 
“Never again,” He whispered, frozen in place. He didn’t dare move when you let your movements wander over his lips, taking your time before you let your hand fall against the junction of where his shoulder met his neck. Beneath the collar of the hospital gown you could see garish bruising that only served as another reminder you’d almost lost him. 
That was enough to remind you that there was much unsaid between you and the man you loved. You could feel his shaky breath, his hand squeezing yours just enough that you felt the reassuring pressure. When you took your third look at those eyes, you knew. 
You moved at the same time, in tune to one another in a way you always have been. It was with a sigh that your lips met, frightened and curious and wonderful. You were careful of his head would as you played with the hair at the back of his neck and he made sure not to move you anymore than tilting your head to slot your lips against his at a better angle. 
Fred pulled away when his smile dared to take over his face but you couldn’t complain about the loss when you could feel his pulse beating strongly against your fingers, his chest moving steadily with life. 
“I’m just as tied to you as you are to me,” You laughed softly, in disbelief. 
Fred looked surprised for all but a second before he was placing his lips against yours, cautious but deliriously happy. 
Waves swayed with the moon, plants flourished with water, and you were never far from Fred Weasley. Each were tethered to their counterpart and nothing could change it. 
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