#well hermie 2 but still. HES REAL TO ME.

[endrimer]

god i just finished season 2 nad that marchig band cover was INSANE!!! WHAT THE FUVKL!!!!!!!! i will scream about it for ages and also in the tags but on an unrelated slash kind of related note. i am soooo scared to start season 3 i need to emotionally prepare myself

[beannoss]

Off the back of this great post by @hermy-97 about Endo's choice in Twilight's alias last names and specifically the comedy therein, I had MANY THOUGHTS! But in a DIFFERENT DIRECTION! I didn't want to hijack the original post though, so am jumping off separately. (Manga spoilers discussed herein)

Following in OP's footsteps and borrowing here from Google's definition, here's what Google says for 'forge':

1. make or shape (a metal object) by heating it in a fire or furnace and beating or hammering it. (eg: "he forged a great suit of black armor") 2. create (a relationship or new conditions). (eg: "the two women forged a close bond") 3. produce a copy or imitation of (a document, signature, banknote, or work or art) for the purpose of deception. (eg: "the signature on the check was forged")

As OP covered off meaning three, I wanted to look more at meanings one and two!

I’d personally argue number one also applies if taken as metaphor.

1. make or shape (a metal object) by heating it in a fire or furnace and beating or hammering it.

I think it works broadly for how trauma can sometimes feel (for better and, more often, for worse), but more specifically in the context of Twilight & SxF, I think about how 'forged' is often used as a metaphor for people's experiences of war, speaking to how those experiences shape them (particularly: 'forged in the crucible of war'). Indeed, ash is a frequent motif throughout Twilight's backstory chapters:

Personally I'd say its reasonable to extend the metaphor back further into Twilight's adolescence and childhood, given how (understandably) angry, hurt and grief-stricken it left him, leading him into the military (undoubtedly though he also, ironically, joined the army as a means of survival: food, shelter, a desperation to do something and have some form of regularity even if it was within the context of the military and a war campaign, etc). Of course this could also apply to many other adults in the series, and their experiences of the two wars.

I’d say definition two applies as well; OP noted Twilight's honeypot missions in this instance, and I think it carries further, outside of either honeypot or other missions.

2. create (a relationship or new conditions).

It can be taken as a whole within the Forger household, after all Twilight did create the Forgers. But more importantly to me, this meaning applies particularly by way of what Anya and Yor are doing within the family, their choices and aims, and how they’re influencing and shaping the Forgers. And then, of course, Twilight’s choices in return, both under the explicit guise of for the mission and those times when the mission is curiously (ahem) absent from or delayed in his thought process. They three are forging something real, regardless of what the family began as, and regardless of how they may be looking at it presently.

I'd tend to say that, of our three, Anya is doing this most intentionally: I know Twilight does a lot as Loid, and I think the tone he set for the family actually does impact this collective act of creation fairly substantially. However, he still tells himself the family is temporary: maybe it's nice while it lasts but it will end and that's that. Whereas Anya is, insofar as she can conceive of it as a five year old, very deliberately trying to create bonds and smooth possible fissures, with an explicit view of everlasting. Which makes sense, since she's the only family member who knows the full circumstances, even if she doesn't and can't (and shouldn't) understand how complex it all is.

Yor, of course, also does a lot but again, I don't think she sees it as a specific project; in part because our favourite assassin isn't known for her forward planning, and also because it's simply how she moves through the world. And that's speaking: that Yor's impulses, instincts and choices build into forever-types of foundations, without her necessarily thinking of them that way. There are many tragedies within SxF but the one I think of with Yor particularly is that she is such a community person and particularly a community builder, but due to her traumas and circumstances, she hadn't had the opportunity to live that part of herself. It's one of my favourite things, watching her come into her own and live out her values and priorities inside and outside the home. /side track. All of which to say, she is, definitionally, a forger. As here, where she creates bonds with not only her colleagues but demonstrates connecting threads across generations and individual experiences.

The definition around creating something also applies to Twilight’s mission in Strix — preventing war actually also necessitates the forging of bonds. It’s unclear how things will shake out with, for instance, Yuri, but Twilight-as-Loid-Forger is already a positive presence in several circles (his hospital job for instance) and Yor’s presence is also increasingly positive (at work and it seems possibly/probably with Melinda) and Anya’s also making positive waves in her circles (with Becky, and while I think Damian's trajectory is a bit less linear, I know others argue that she's positively influencing him as well).

(If I wanted to go deeper, I'd also borrow a Watsonian perspective and chat a bit about what it says about Twilight to choose the name Forger, given his clear wants for family and his equal surety he can't ever have one, even from the first few pages of the manga... Perhaps in another meta.)

I think it's also worth noting that although Endo goes to this particular joke well a few times, Forger stands distinct. Neither 'Phony' (def: not genuine, fraudulent) nor 'Spoof(y)' (def: imitate for comedic effect; hoax or trick someone) have any sort of additional meaning along the lines of actual creation. And of course, in the case of Spoofy, Twilight is tricking the military; and with Fiona, bless her, any sort of romantic relationship with Twilight would only ever be fraudulent.

I wanted to round things out with one more definition, this time taken from duckduckgo's:

"To advance gradually but steadily."

If that isn't the tune of the Forger family and Spy x Family generally, I don't know what is.

[babacontainsmultitudes]

:) Mandatory screaming about things for this episode (spoilers alert!)

BUT TAYLOR TO A COP SHALL NEVER KNEEL

Linc is Taylor's steed omfg

JIMMY JIMMY JIMMY OH MY GOD JIMMY

I guess just go just start talking

Somebody has to kiss Hermie for him to show up again

:o They can't go back to hell??

More kids???? Oh Hermie

SOMEONE THAT STOLE YOU AND RAN AWAY WITH YOU?

SCAM

He's been scammed out of a lot of things lately?? Other than sons??

Bring it in bucko

aw Nicky

y-your wife?? MORGAN???

OOOOOOH the anchor is not Jodie???

:( Jodie is so disappointed in Nicky damn (well fair but still damn)

You have a very nice Hell

GLENN AND MORGAN!?!?!?!?!

OOOOOOOOOOH

Normal's gasp yeah me too

Glenn and Morgan are demon slayers oh my gosh oh and Taylor oh my gosh

Normal thinking he might be the chosen one somehow very in-character yup

"I don't know if she knows that that's what Willy looks like when he looks at her" hyeah oof

Can we have one that's not on fire why is this difficult

Yeah Jodie why can you smell things so good

Hm if you lose senses over time in Hell what does that say about Nicky?

Since they all think they're the chosen one except Linc I fucking hope it's Linc

Thank you for looking out for Hermie, Normal

Linc is so done omg

Normal trying to be a counsellor literally cannot end well

REBECCA SWALLOWS IS A BADASS BITCH

Jodie is a dumb bitch yeah

Aw poor Hermie lmao

GOTTEM

"Alright let me in I'm me" alright Jimmy I really missed you

GLEEEENNN AND MORGAAAAN

I BROUGHT SOME KIDS WITH ME

Glenn you fucking loser holy shit ilysm

DON'T KILL GLENN I'M BEGGING YOU

Glenn and Morgan have such stupid chemistry I really like them

"I mean, you're my right hand man buddy"

OH OH WE NEED SOULEATER LINC AND TAYLOR FANART

Oh thank goodness he's not the anchor himself

OH IT'S BLUE

I actually "aw'd" at it being the anchor of love damn

Glenn stripping oh my god hot Glenn summers are made in the hot Glenn winter

Aw yay it's a guitar pick! It was in you all along!!!!

"Look how fast my finger- like, look at this"

yeah awkward Glenn kinda being cool but also completely not cool is my favorite thing in the whole wide world

HAHA SCARY'S THE SPIDER BOY

You can't deny himbo Glenn it tracks yeah

You walked into the wrong hell motherfucker

THROW HIM INTO THE GUITAR?? WILL THIS SUMMON NICKY??? TAYLOR WHAT ARE YOU THINKING??????

Freddie playing against himself oh I love this so much for him

Spiritually kinda related yes

I'm crying at the back and forth between Glenn and Taylor

ROUND 2

WELL WELL WELL

12 SOCCER PLAYERS!?!?!?!?! WHAT

TONY PEPPERONI RINGTONE YES LOL

:O UH OH THE FBI

:( Tried to kill and torture Nicky?? poor baby ugh yeah Jodie kick their asses!

Shipping Glenn and Morgan real hard rn they're so dumb

:) Linc and Scary yes play soccer yes yes yes

BIIIITCH

Fuck yeah Morgan is muscular as all hell

SCHMEGAN'S KID!

WAIT WHAT YOU KILLED SCHMEGAN'S KID

Okay Linc is absolutely the chosen one it's decided

[blobaglob]

Dungeons and daddies season 2 rant/spoilers 👇

I'm kinda bothered by people head cannoning Lincoln as black. At first it was bothersome cause he's adopted and I feel like people just assume you have to adopt a baby with a different skin color or whatever, cause that's what you see usually in media, but after the Titanic arc I feel like it's really obvious he isn't black, or at least not as dark as people draw him because there's no way billy Zane was gonna be okay with pretending he had a black baby but was disgusted by the idea of an Asian baby. I know a lot of people use headcannons to add the diversity we crave but I really feel like this one is misguided and Lincoln is very much white passing if not just white?? Idk it bothers me that the adopted kid is always black.

I love looking at fan art and can accept other peoples headcannons about him, I just feel like they might be misguided. Of course I'm open to being told otherwise! I don't know everything. I also get that people started their headcannons early in the season and don't wanna change it for the Titanic arc.

That being said if I'm gonna be critique other people's headcannons I may as well post mine.

Lincoln: he's def white passing with looser curly hair. Always tan cause he always be soccering. I feel like he tried to be a Wheaties kid cause one of his fav athletes was in the box but it didn't taste good to him so he gets frosted mini wheats and puts the bag into the Wheaties box.

Normal: his hair has never grown past his ears, not because he cuts it but because Everytime he takes off the teeny head, the friction makes it stand up. Tighter curls forsure. Before he became teeny he was in a dangerous path of becoming a furry, and the only reason he didn't is he couldn't pick 1 fursona to stick to.

Scary: every time she tries to dye her hair it comes out within 3 days. She doesn't realize she should bleach it first and her mom is praying she never realizes. A lot of her angst is performative but her feelings are real. She was probably always felt bad but didn't realize she wasn't alone no she kept it hidden. At least it was performative 👀. Her real dad is Terry Sr. or Barry oak. Called shot.

Taylor: he still remembers the first time he actually realized what his mom did as a job and it was while watching and anime and he heard her voice and it finally clicked for him. He was 12. Like he knew his mom was a voice actor but it didn't click till he heard her.

Hermie: he's actually just me. Nah I can't talk more on him, cause I didn't catch last week's episode yet and know some shit got spilled about him.

[aurorasw33tcat]

Dungeons and daddies has decided to live in my head rent free for the rime being, so let us discuss our hermie unworthy options after the last episode:

1. The most commited chaperel high school student who just wanted to steal the mascot costume, no matter the cost

Supporting evidence:

- known method actor

- child of Scam Likely, enough said

- keeps showing up unexpectedly, like he's keeping an eye on them

- has a chaperel high student id

- We know nothing about him, other then his bio parents are Scam and Joadie and that he is a theatre kid/method actor

Arguments against:

- Normal took off the costume at the dance. Hermy absolutely could have disappeared with it, especially since the teens immediately started to fight someone who got gooped . (Linc did put it on at some point, but there probably still would have been time, right?) (Haven't listened in a minute)

- If Hermie is that commited to stealing the costume, why follow them to our world when Normal no longer had it with him? After everything Hermie has commited to for the bit, you want to tell me he wouldn't know where the mascot kid lived? He could have made up an excuse to take it from the Oak-Swallows-Garcia Household

-Normal mentions seeing him at the school play

-He is initially seen most frequently at teen high. Doesn't he have school? (Admittedly the weakest argument)

*Note: alot of the arguments can be excuses by just saying Anthony hadn't thought of the twist yet

2. Hermie is scamming them so they can access the goof realm

Supporting Evidence:

-the "I do" when Nick says he doesn't know how to get to the goof realm (I think later that episode we had confirmation that to access the goof realm you have to pull a scam or be scammed as well)

- Hermie seems to genuinely like teens. After all, Taylor is his uncle cousin nephew and Normal is his will-they-won't-they partner

- He has helped the teens multiple time

- His method acting and ability to pull costumes out of seemingly nowhere definitely indicates the skills necessary to create a fake school id

-Normal mentions seeing him in the school play

Arguments:

- Has been getting more annoyed about the teens forgetting him (arguably also Anthony's fault. He forgets Hermie too)

*Note: this could also be used as motivation to commit the scam as a way to help the teens (getting them to the goof realm). He could be desperate to help them so they stop forgetting him

- despite my previous explanation for the ID, we know nothing for certain yet

(The next 2 are kind of the same)

A mix of both. Chaperel high student Hermie Unworthy who started out just trying to get the mascot costume, then genuinely became friends with the teens.

3. Either is now trying to help them like in theory 2 or

4.is bitter about them forgetting him all the time

In both cases, any argument or supporting evidence comes from a mix of both theories 1 and 2

Last and definitely least is purely a crack theory:

5. Hermie has actually been Scam Likely the whole time

Supporting evidence:

-None really. Scam just seems the sort

-Nothing about Hermie makes sense

- The pure commitment to the bit can only come from an expert

-Scam has been suspiciously quiet the whole time

Arguments:

- It makes no sense

- It feels narratively unsatisfactory

- Scam Is probably in the goof realm

- Jodie has confirmed he and Scam had a kid who Scam ran off with. Hermie is either real or he is in on the scam

I'm definitely missing things, but either way hopefully we'll find out next episode :)

[biirbi]

Dndads season 2 expectations :3

Frankly I do not really know how tumblr works; just posting this to keep track of it! I just finished season 1 of dungeons and daddies a bit ago and am starting the next one soon! Here are my current thoughts/expectations:

ummummmm honestly I have no clue what's going to happen in S2- I know the premise is the doodler has returned, but besides them trying to defeat it probably, no idea. I'm excited to hopefullyy see some of my favorite s1 characters again (I am pretty much exclusively talking about Erin and Scam)! If willy shows up again im going to leave. forever. he doesn't get to be an antag for two seasons.

AND ALSO IM GONNA BE. VERY UPSET IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO THE STAMPLERS. I know scary isn't a stampler technically but I'll still refer to them all as that. but I care them so hard im gonna be so mad. all in all I just want the stamplers to be ok. and scam and erin. Also speaking of erin I hope vince dies she deserves someone with more dimensions (me)

The kids as dads!:

Honestly, I love all the kids- I cannot see them being that bad of parents (but apparently I'll find out soon!)

Adulthood clearly fucks them up SOMEHOW bc idk how they could be so awful but Sparrow (My favorite kid as of now :3) would probably just be. kinda like henry but I still think different? Like Henry is probably more protective than I imagine sparrow would be; aloof (p.s. I had a different idea of what aloof meant but I can't think of a different word so. oh well just use your imagination LMFAO) though he still is very loving! And does his best to sprinkle in life lessons even if they're not. that great. Like I'd think the worst he could fuck up his kid is not really teach him any particularly valuable life skills

Terry Jr! I love him, I'm very glad he and Ron are doing well as of now. I think he's a great kid that would make a great step-dad, especially considering the fact he knows what it's like to 1: lose his dad and 2: have an emotionally distant step-father. You'd THINK he wouldn't want a kid to also go through that but who knows I guess.

I love Grant too, and I know I've said this for all of them but honestly I have no clue what tf they do to him to possibly get him to be that bad of a dad. He was definitely traumatized by murdering that thing so I get him maybe like being emotionally distant. and like overbearing at the same time. but I wouldn't really call that being a poor parent,,,

Nicky uhhh. He confuses me I don't really know what he's like anymore since he was Glenn's kid. then Jodie's. now kinda both so honestly I've no real idea of what he's gonna be like but I still can't see him being that bad.

AND THAT REMINDS ME if hermie is presumably a grandkid of one of the preexisting s1 characters I can not figure out WHO tf might be the one that fucked him up that bad. I don't really know anything about him but it's soo obvious that he is Not gonna have a Good Time. I don't even know if he's a normal guy (normal hehe) or from the forgotten realms or>?????

Characters I'll probably get attached to

Honestly, as far as I can tell abt hermie (which I'm not really supposed to know about yet but whatever) he does seem like a character I will get attached to. And hopefully not empathize with cause that won't help. He just looks like he's designed to hold SO much trauma.

*slaps roof of hermie*

This baby can hold so much trauma in it.

I don't really have any clue abt him but. I can tell it probably won't go well for him! Also he kinda? ?? looks like an antag but also doesn't? Idk maybe an antag because of a forced hand, or more along the lines of an anti-hero? I've no idea.

Scary! She seems likeable in an. unlikeable edgy way. She's played by Beth so it can't be that hard to like her (Which I recently met someone who DOESN'T like beth!? He just hates to see a funny woman...), plus I'm a sucker for edgy emo characters. She's not actually related to ron but yknow terry's her step-dad and that's close enough.

Honestly I don't particularly take to very chipper and upbeat characters (which I'm just assuming Normal is, I could be wrong), so no clue if I'll like him. I at least probably won't dislike him as long as he's not annoying abt it.

And I have no clue what Taylor's gonna be like so really I can't say anything. He's kinda sorta related to Glenn? kinda????? and I didn't like Glenn very much at first, he did grow on me a little but idk- we'll see

I totally forgot to put lincoln in here. idk ANYTHING about him so uhh we'll see!

ermm I think I had something else to say but I forgot- I'm going to start dedicating the next 10 days while I'm by myself to probably binging all of s2. Uhhhh wish me luck!

[dykeyote]

obviously i know of the wonderful real and true lesbian hermie but i would still like to hear ur thoughts on her :3

HIII :3 thank u for the excuse to explain because truly i feel so strongly abt this . here is my extensive reasons as to why hermie unworthy could never be anything but a lesbian and ur hcs are all wrong and this IS a personal attack on you btw <- thats a joke this post is very silly and not meant to be an Actual Theory but i DO feel strongly

lezzermie realness: a manifesto

REASON 1!!!!!!!!! again . WHAT WAS THE BEND IT LIKE BECKHAM THING ABOUT . and this isnt "actor character randomly dresses up as kiera knightley from bend it like beckham for no reason" which to be clear . would still make me raise my eyebrows . HOWEVER hermie isnt just any kind of actor shes a SPECIFICALLY DC ACTOR . she ONLY does dc characters . the ONE other time is when she's dressing up as scary for like a Real Reason . this is not a real reason its not even a musical or a play or smt its not even theatre kiddy . what are you trying to say hermie others will silence you but i will let you speak

REASON 2!!!!!!!!!!!!! further reasons will be predicated on the assumption that scary marlowe is a: a lesbian and b: that her crush on hermie is lesbianistic in nature . this can be proven simply w the line "im not like other girls i dont like ned or earl but when im with you my heart shatters or smt along those lines i cant be bothered to check verbatim" . abt hermie . oh so youre not into GENERIC MASCULINE NAMES like OTHER (STRAIGHT) GIRLS but hermie is different ...... this is successfully✅ proven . also she compared her and scary to the joker and harley ..... and scary STILL had a crush . i dont think anybody could tolerate that unless it was from a lesbian 🙏

REASON 3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! with this assumption presumed ....... now i know what you were thinking in reason one when i asserted hermie only broke dc those tow times . "val thats not true he was jack on the titanic" . to that i say YES ...... she did an overdramatic romantic scene riffing on an iconic straight couple from a historical movie with (as we have 100% proven) a lesbian w a dykey ass crush on her . whats more lesbian than that . thats the butchfemmiest shit

REASON 4!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i hear you cry from the crowds . but valentine ur MISSING something . ur WRONG . because NORMAL!!!!!!!! to which i say normal is so obviously a girl to everyone but herself lets be real . the eldritch beast she has this deep connection with and empathizes with immediately is fixated on being a bad girl? she has a whole arc where she tries to be a normal son and boy to appeal to her parent who doesnt approve of how she chooses to express herself and picks a masculine name to go w it in contrast to . um . i mean i guess an adjective is gender neutral??????? hermies a lesbian FOR normal not DESPITE normal ......... also lesbians can be mlm and have complex genders too . me for example . bigender swag which hermie absolutely has

REASON 5!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! if we assume normal's arc is transgender THEN we must observe the parallels with hermie and come to the same conclusion of girlmie (or boygirlmie but bigendermie is a convo for another day) realness . both created to be a specific type of son (normal well Normal, hermie a joke machine) both Not Quite Right in a way they cant shake both reaching out for a new more fitting identity which in hermie's case EXPLICITLY includes gender nonconformity (we will discuss next bulletpoint) . and if we prove girlmie by way of her crush on scary (and as previously stated normal) we prove lezzermie

REASON 6!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! dressing up as poison ivy isnt necessarily lesbianistic because she dresses up as other dc villains HOWEVER!!!!!! i will argue that the way she goes about it is uniquely suggesting of dykery . a: she flirts with normal .... THROUGH poison ivy . distinctly RELATED to poison ivy . this is lesbian behavior and reinforces my prior point and b: she REPEATS poison ivy ...... which she rarely does with others she goes through Eras with the rest of them but abandons them after HOWEVER!!!!! she does poison ivy sexy and gets sort of interrupted . THEN does batman in the spiderboyz intro . THEN goes back to poison ivy in hell........ why does she only repeat the known lesbian 🤨

REASON 7!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HERMIE unworthy ... HER MIE .... like her and me ...... instead of her man (heterosexual in nature) she chooses herMIE . normal holds her face and goes YOURE HERMIE (her x me) . think about it guys . think about it ........

ok anyway thats enough of my ramblings . this post is very silly if u cant tell but i am a #believer

[happi-tree]

i have two oakworthy wips rn. the first one takes place in the 2 weeks the teens spent in the void going back home because hermie defo didn't want to process his feelings about finding out he was adopted so my fic is (i'm just gonna ramble to u about my fics now) my fic is normal waking up on the cat bus and seeing that hermie is still awake and clearly really shaken up about it and hurt/comfort ensuws 😍😍😍 ane my other oakworthy wip is based off a lyric from i/me/myself: "all identities are equally invalid. don't you think that there's a chance that you could live without it?" and it's hermie trying to convince norm (and himself) that he doesn't need to figure out who he is because it doesn't matter in the long run since he's getting by playing different roles fit for the situation hfdiidjejdciodkri29r9e9ro

OOOOOOOOOH I LOVE THESE!!!

Also I did see that you posted the first one and I read it last night 🥰🥰🥰 It was really lovely and I'm always a sucker for people tying Hermie's shapeshifting abilities into his mental/emotional state it's soooo tasty to me. Also like the moment where he looks at Normal and both of his eyes turn hazel was SO sweet to me (not 100% sure if it was intended to be this way, but I interpreted it as Normal's eyes are hazel and when Hermie recognizes he's there it grounds him for a very brief moment and it's reflected in his eyes which is. So. Ashkdvfkhdvfkhasvffvs 🥺🥺🥺)

And the second one sounds REALLY cool, too! I really like exploring Hermie's identity issues and I think it's so real that Hermie wouldn't want the added pressure of figuring out Exactly Who He Is on top of. Well *gestures at all of season 2 thus far*. Very excited to give it a read!!!

Also sorry I didn't get to answering this earlier I was preeeeeetty busy with irl stuff last night 😅 Hope you're having a good day, lovebird!!! <3

[lunarfly]

Harmione Essay: Physical contact — a changing pattern (by Turambar)

Hello! This is an essay written many years ago, before the release of HBP&DH. It doesn't belong to me so credits to the original writer(Turambar)! It was written on the CoS forum, I'm not sure if it's still saved there but I have a word document with all of the essays. Anyways, this essay has no ship/character bashing. Again, this essay isn't written by me. Enjoy!

The evolution of this pattern of physical contact between Harry and Hermione is very interesting.

PS to POA:

1) If we look at the very scene where the trio become friends, a curious aspect of this pattern rears its head: Harry is physically decisive, Harry and Hermione have physical contact in a time of crisis and Ron is to one side looking on. "Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her towards the door."

2) At the end of the book she initiates the hug and he feels very embarrassed since displays of physical affection are totally foreign to him. "Hermione's lip trembled and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him. 'Hermione!' 'Harry - you're a great wizard you know.' 'I'm not as good as you,' said Harry, very embarrassed as she let go of him." Then there's the nice moment in the hospital wing when he realizes she wants to hug him again but is glad she holds herself in because his head's hurting.

3) In POA, having previously seen Harry jump on a troll for her and wrestle Millicent Bulstrode off her - both while Ron is present - Hermione turns to Harry for emotional support through a physical gesture, grabbing his arm when the trio see that the Fat Lady has been slashed (by Sirius). "Harry, Ron and Hermione moved closer to see what the trouble was. 'Oh my -' Hermione exclaimed and grabbed Harry's arm." Again Ron is present but Hermione turns to Harry.

4) The Shrieking Shack/Time Turner scenes, when they are nearer their 14th birthdays than their 13th ones, are where the pattern accelerates and becomes noticeable.

It is mostly Hermione initiating contact. Harry is accepting of this contact and only indicates she should let go of his arm at one point when her grip causes him to lose feeling in his fingers.

Shrieking Shack:

"She now grasped Harry's arm painfully hard"

"Hermione suddenly grabbed Harry's arm again."

"Hermione's grip on Harry's arm was so tight he was losing feeling in his fingers. He raised his eyebrows at her; she nodded and let go."

Time Turner:

"In here!' Hermione seized Harry's arm and dragged him across the hall to the door of a broom cupboard, she opened it and pushed him inside."

"Hermione nudged him and pointed towards the castle."

"Hermione was holding Harry very tightly around the waist."

"Peeves!" Harry muttered, grabbing Hermione's wrist. "In here."

5) So to summarize:

a) Up to this point, apart from a couple of occasions where Harry has grabbed Hermione, the contact between them has been initiated by Hermione.

b) It has occurred at times of crisis/stress and generally involved Hermione seeking support, reassurance and protection from Harry.

c) Apart from the hug and flying on Buckbeak it has involved arm contact.

d) Despite embarrassment over the hug - understandable since it's presumably his first since he was a baby - Harry is still mature enough to pay a compliment - 'I'm not as good as you'. But he's comfortable with the contact, he doesn't question it and his indication to Hermione to release his arm is not a rejection of her: she has no qualms about grabbing him again.

GOF:

6) Here we see a change in the pattern to Hermione initiating contact in moments of fun/joy/excitement/relief.

Veela:

"She reached up and pulled Harry back into his seat."

"Hermione was soon tugging on Harry's arm. He turned to look at her, and she pulled his fingers impatiently out of his ears. 'Look at the referee!' she said giggling."

First task:

"Then before either of them could stop her, she had given both of them a hug."

Dobby:

"Harry!' she panted, skidding to a halt beside him (the Fat Lady stared down at her, eyebrows raised). She seized Harry's arm and started to try and drag him back along the corridor."

"Oh come on Harry, I want to show you!' she seized his arm again, pulled him in front of the picture... and pushed Harry hard in the back, forcing him inside."

Hexes:

"...catching up with Harry and Ron in the Entrance Hall and pulling Harry's hand away from one of his wriggling ears so that he could hear her."

The end:

"'Bye, Harry!' said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek."

7) Things to note about this:

a) IMO it reflects Hermione's growing self confidence which is very evident in OOTP

b) Hermione appears to have an increasing wish for physical contact with Harry. For instance is it really necessary for her to touch his hands and pull them away from his ears (twice) to gain his attention. Wouldn't a tap on the shoulder have sufficed? And isn't hand to hand contact quite a lot more intimate than tapping someone on the shoulder?

c) Harry only initiates physical contact once, during the Dark Mark chapter: "He [Harry] seized the other two and pulled them down onto the ground." There is no description of how he reacts to the joint hug Hermione gives himself and Ron.

d) This pattern coincides with a growing mental closeness between Harry and Hermione: a lot of instances of them knowing what each other is thinking and also of Harry becoming more interested in what Hermione is thinking. It also coincides with Harry becoming more reliant on Hermione: needing her friendship when he has his falling out with Ron and her knowledge and skill to help him get through the tournament.

OOTP:

Now we finally come to the most interesting part of this whole pattern. It has changed again.

Harry's feelings towards Hermione are in transition and that flows through into a river of confused thoughts, emotions and actions about various subjects.

Just in the welcome scene, for instance, there are phrases such as: "found that he was not sorry" "the words tumbling over one another in a rush" 'but before he knew it, Harry was shouting" "every ... thought ... was pouring out of him" that help to show he's not on top of things.

8) The hug

"Followed by an even louder shriek, and his vision was completely obscured by a large quantity of very bushy hair. Hermione had thrown herself on him in a hug that nearly knocked him flat, while Ron's tiny owl, Pigwidgeon, zoomed excitedly round and round their heads.

"HARRY! Ron, he's here, Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you! Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless - but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got things to tell us - the Dementors! When we heard - and that Ministry hearing - it's just outrageous. I've looked it all up, they can't expel you, they just can't, there's provision in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of underage Sorcery for use of magic in life threatening situations -"

"Let him breathe, Hermione," said Ron. (Harry gives description of Ron)Still beaming, Hermione let go of Harry."

a) When compared with the pattern of the previous books this has to be the most intense and sheerly physical sign of affection and joy Hermione has ever lavished on Harry. Compare it to their first hug in PS: that was a moving embrace, this is almost a rugby tackle.

b) Neither Harry nor Hermione want to let go. Harry doesn't make any move to. Hermione only lets go after Ron intervenes.

c) For the first time, we are told how Harry feels: a "warm glow that had flared inside him". This feeling incorporates seeing both friends, but it starts when Hermione hugs him, as I've explained previously.

9) Snape's class:

"Salamander blood, Harry!" Hermione moaned, grabbing his wrist to prevent him adding the wrong ingredient."

Hagrid's cabin:

"Get under here!" Harry said quickly; seizing the Invisibility Cloak, he whirled it over himself and Hermione while Ron tore around the table and dived under the cloak as well ... Hermione gasped; Harry clapped a hand over her mouth ... Harry made to pull off the Invisibility Cloak but Hermione seized his wrist. "Not yet," she breathed in his ear. She might not be gone yet."

Quidditch:

"As they rose from the table, Hermione got up too, and taking Harry's arm she drew him to one side."

Grawp:

"Hermione walked right into him and was knocked over backwards. Harry caught her just before she hit the forest floor ... "Good!" said Hermione, as Harry set her back on her feet."

"Grawp's hand had shot out of nowhere towards Hermione; Harry seized her and pulled her backwards behind the tree, so that Grawp's fist scraped the trunk but closed on thin air.

"Bad boy Grawpy!" they heard Hagrid yelling, as Hermione clung to Harry behind the tree, shaking and whimpering."

Out of the Fire:

"Get over here," muttered Hermione, tugging at Harry's wrist and pulling him back into a recess."

"Harry grabbed Hermione and pulled her to the ground."

"Hermione had been dropped, too, and Harry hurried towards her."

"Hermione gripped his arm tightly."

"Harry could feel Hermione shaking as Grawp opened his mouth wide again and said in a deep, rumbling voice, 'Hermy.' 'Goodness,' said Hermione, gripping Harry's arm so tightly it was growing numb."

"One of the giant's massive hands reached down. Hermione let out a real scream, ran a few steps backwards and fell over. Devoid of a wand, Harry braced himself to punch, kick, bite or whatever else it took as the hand swooped towards him."

"Pebble-sized droplets of Grawp's blood showered Harry as he pulled Hermione to her feet and the pair of them ran as fast as they could."

"Harry and Hermione moved together instinctively and peered through the trees."

The Department of Mysteries:

"The circular wall was rotating. Hermione grabbed Harry's arm as though frightened the floor might move too, but it did not."

"She grabbed his arm and pulled, but he resisted."

"He seized a handful of Hermione's robes and dragged her forwards."

"Harry raised his wand but to his amazement Hermione seized his arm."

10) The major change to the pattern from all the other books is that Harry is a far more active participant.

Instead of being the more passive rock that Hermione clings on to, he is much more forcibly protecting her. He reacts very instinctively and decisively.

From being mostly one-sided in the sense that Hermione was doing most of the grabbing, it is now much more even. There's more full-on contact rather than just arm grabbing.

If we compare Harry's actions in the forest scenes of OOTP with the Shrieking Shack/Time Turner scenes he is far more protective and physical with Hermione than before. In POA they were facing the Whomping Willow, a werewolf and dementors, in OOTP a giant and centaurs.

The way Harry shapes up to Grawp without a wand shows almost a desperation to protect Hermione. When his arm starts to go numb in OOTP, same as it did in POA, this time he doesn't ask her to let go.

11) Overall this changing pattern reflects the changing nature of Harry and Hermione's relationship:

Hermione has been the one to develop and realize her feelings for Harry but now Harry is catching up just as Hermione for a while was the dominant participant in the pattern but it has evened with Harry's full involvement.

[feelingofcontent]

DNP Rewatch: How NOT to meet Emma Watson

Date video was published: 07/26/2014 (X)

DNP Main Channel Rewatch: 234

This is the first video Phil had actually filmed in about a month, since both his previous videos, Phil the Lion vs. Dan the Dinosaur! - WATER RACE and Eating Play-Doh! (with Phil & Jim), were filmed way ahead of when they were posted.

0:05 - again with the extremely bright pajama pants.

0:10 - would you not wear...shorts? lol. Or I guess if you’re Phil you just put your pants in the fridge. Sure.

0:24 - what even is that noise and face.

0:34 - fringe pushed back!

0:41 - his enthusiasm for fridge-pajamas was much more than the “it took my breath away” here

0:53 - Phil tweeted about this when it happened in mid-July (1, 2). I’m laughing that the conversation he overheard was about granola, hahaha

1:01 - living in a small-ish town it is so weird to me that people can just randomly see celebrities on the street

1:08 - awwww, “Hermy-one.” The amount of confusion over how to pronounce her name until the movies came out was too real.

1:17 - so things not-to-do if you see DNP in the wild I suppose?

1:36 - you would think he would have some comfort with speaking to celebrities at this point after the radio show, but I guess it’s very different when you have a chance to prepare

1:41 - “a useless flappy wet mouth tail” ...sure. 

1:49 - this wink went surprisingly well for Phil! although I’m not sure it was necessary 😳

1:57 - Phil tweeted about the storm getting his Furby wet. He still has it to this day though, even in the forever home background.

2:17 - I love that he equates buying antiques with being “mature” 😂

2:19 - it’s the start of the props chest!

2:33 - I wonder if this story is real or something the antique shop does to sell things...

2:57 - the random stuff just on the top layer there. Wow.

3:00 - well that was under Dan’s bed at one point in I’M A MESS

3:17 - a zine! Phil tweeted about this.

3:40 - draw-Phil-naked always seems like more of an afterthought by this point

This is just a casual Phil story-time video. Nothing particularly memorable about this one, other than the origin of the props box!

[shining-red-diamond]

Ch. 2

Colleen and Ron waved goodbye to their mother and sister as the train took off. Once it rounded a corner, the two siblings went in search of a compartment to sit in until their arrival. They searched up and down but didn't find an empty seat until Ron came across one with the boy in rounded glasses and the girl with curly hair sitting in it.

"Anyone sitting here?" Ron asked after sliding the compartment door open. "Everywhere else is full."

The two children nodded. Ron and Colleen sat down across from them.

"Hey, Ron," one of the twins' voices called from the hallway. Both of them poked their heads in. "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan's got a tarantula down there."

"Right," Ron responded.

"Harry," George said as he turned to the other boy, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. And that's Colleen, our sister. See you later, then."

"Bye," the other children replied, and the twins shut the door closed.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Colleen asked, her eyes wide in wonder.

The dark-haired boy nodded.

"Oh, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes."

"And have you really got – you know…" said Ron. He pointed to his forehead.

Harry pulled back his hair from his forehead and revealed a lightning-shaped scar.

"So that's where You-Know-Who-?"

"Yes," Harry said, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?"

"Well – I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow."

Colleen noticed there hadn't been a single peep from the girl sitting next to Harry. She had been staring out the window in a sort of sad daze the entire time.

"What's your name?" Colleen asked her.

"Valerie," the girl answered in a hushed tone. "Valerie Dursley."

"Pleased to meet you, Valerie," Colleen smiled at her.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry.

"Er – yes, I think so," Ron replied. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already."

Colleen shrugged. "I mean, if I'm completely honest. I did practice only a handful of charms at home."

"When?" Ron asked.

"Why do you care?"

"What if I wanted to practice, too?"

"Because I would have made you swear by pulling your thumb as far back as it could go, and then we'd both get into trouble for fighting."

"Point taken."

Harry and Valerie chuckled at their argument, and Ron rolled his eyes.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," he changed the subject. "What are they like?"

"Horrible – well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Valerie here has kept me company. I wish we had three wizard brothers."

"Five," Ron sighed. "Colleen and I are sixth and seventh in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say we've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left – Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're funny. Everyone expects us to do as well as the others, but if we do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five older brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat. Well, my sis here got new stuff, but they'll be passed on to our baby sister next year."

Ron then reached into his pocket and pulled out the old rat.

"His name's Scabbers," he explained while the rat slept, "and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad being made a prefect and Colleen an owl as well, but they couldn't aff – I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron went silent as his ears turned red. They weren't supposed to talk about some situations in their family with others, but sometimes it just slipped out of Ron's mouth.

Harry then began to tell about his and Valerie's lives from the time they were infants until now. Both had been verbally abused by Harry's aunt and uncle and cousin, and Valerie only adopted the surname because she didn't know whom or where her parents were. Only Harry knew what happened to his parents.

Neither of them knew what their futures would be up until Hagrid came and took them to prepare for Hogwarts.

"…and until Hagrid told us," he continued, "we didn't know anything about being a wizard and witch or about my parents or Voldemort –"

Ron gasped and Colleen shushed him.

"What?" Valerie asked.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron in a surprised tone. "I'd have thought you, of all people–"

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," Harry replied. "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn…I bet. I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"You won't be," Colleen reassured him with a smile. "There's lots of people who come from Muggle families and they learn very quickly."

As the train moved out of London and sped past open fields, the four of them didn't speak until a lady with a dimpled smile and pushing a cart stopped in front of their compartment door. "Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked.

"No, thanks," Colleen said with a glum look.

"We're all set," said Ron as he pulled out two sandwiches from is pocket; the same glum look identical to Colleen's on his face.

"We'll take the lot," Harry said after pulling out a few Sickles and Knuts.

Harry bought some of everything on the cart including Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Licorice Wands, Cauldron Cakes, and a number of other sweets. Everything was stacked in a colorful pile between him and Valerie. Colleen immediately grabbed two Cauldron Cakes, since they were her favorite; but she gave one to Valerie, who shyly took it and began unwrapping the packaging.

"Hungry are you?" Ron said.

"Starving," said Harry.

"Me too," Valerie chimed in.

Ron started to unwrap his sandwich and then let out a groan, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

Colleen giggled as she bit into her pastry.

"Swap you one for these," Harry said as he handed out one of the candies. "Go on–"

"You don't want this, it's all dry. She hasn't got much time, you know, with six of us."

Harry persisted, and Ron took it, tossing the sandwich aside. Despite growing up in a home where neither him nor Valerie were allowed hardly anything except a place to sleep, food, and hand-me-down clothing, Colleen could see the kindness in their hearts. She had a way of reading people just by watching them. If two people shook hands in greeting, Colleen could tell if they were close friends or meeting for the first time. Valerie was coming off as shy, but Colleen knew she wouldn't hurt a fly.

As Harry and Ron were busy with their conversation about Chocolate Frogs and the trading cards they came with, Colleen took the opportunity to try to get to know Valerie more.

"So what House are you hoping to get?" she asked.

"I'm sorry?" the curly-haired girl replied with a confused look.

"House. Hogwarts has four of them: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Mum says we're sorted to be with others who might be our closest friends."

"What are you hoping you'll get?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"It'll be Gryffindor," Ron chimed in. "All of the Weasleys have been in Gryffindor for centuries."

"Ronald," Colleen rolled her eyes, "I might not. Only the Weasley bloodline has been in Gryffindor."

"But your last name is Weasley, is it not?" Harry asked.

"It is. You see–"

"Sorry," a round-faced, teary-eyed boy interrupted them, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

The quartet shook their heads.

"I've lost him!" the boy cried. "He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," Valerie reassured him.

"Yes. Well, if you see him…"

"Want me to help you?"

The boy turned red. "S-Sure."

Valerie stood from her seat and followed him out of the compartment.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," Ron shrugged.

"Ronald, be nice," Colleen snapped.

"Well, if I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk. You've actually got an owl, sis."

Colleen just scoffed.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," Ron continued. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look…"

He pulled his, in this case Charlie's, very old wand out of his trunk. A little bit of white was poking out if the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway–"

Just before he could chant the spell, a girl with bushy brown hair followed by Valerie and the round-faced boy entered the doorway.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" she asked, a bossy tone in her voice. "Neville's lost one."

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," Ron replied.

The girl didn't seem to hear him as she took the seat next to Colleen. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

Ron cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid fat rat yellow."

Nothing happened. Scabbers stayed grey.

"Are you sure that's real spell?" the girl chuckled. "Well, it's not very good, is it?"

Colleen smacked her forehead in frustration. "I'm so sorry. He's one to fall for our brother's tricks too easy."

Ron stuck his tongue out at her, and Colleen did the same.

"I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and they've all worked for me," the girl continued. "Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Everything that had spilled out of her mouth came at such lightning speed that Colleen almost didn't catch what she said except for her name.

"I'm Colleen Weasley," she introduced herself as she shook hands with Hermione. "I see you've met Valerie Dursley, and the magician across there is my brother."

"Ron Weasley," he said.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" Hermione's eyes grew wide. "I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical Historyand The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?"

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me. Do any of you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad…Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

She then left, Neville trailing behind her.

"Whatever House I'm in, I hope she's not in it," Ron said before chunking his wand back in his trunk. "Stupid spell – George gave it to me, but I knew it was a dud."

"Don't believe everything Fred and George tell you, Ronald," Colleen reminded him.

"You said that everyone in the Weasleys has been in Gryffindor," Harry said.

"Yes," said Ron. "I honestly don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the House Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah."

Colleen then reached into her trunk and pulled out her robes. "I'm going to find a lavatory to change."

"Hurry back," Ron joked.

The strawberry-blonde girl exited the compartment and made her way down the hallway.

[schreibfeather]

Dreams Of Today - Chapter 6

Summary: Number one: Malfoy was a git. Nothing new there. Number two: He was an arrogant, annoying, little ferret. Number three: He used every chance he got to humiliate her and – and… that wasn’t right. Last year… at the Yule Ball… he had been acting surprisingly nice toward her. To be fair, Malfoy had also spent a big part of that night annoying the hell out of her… but… he’d also been… really sweet.. Sequel to Songs of Yesterday. femHarry, HP/DM, Romance, Angst, Fluff , Slowburn

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | (link to masterlist)

6 – Midnight Confessions

(3rd week of September - Friday)

HALEY

She is evil. She is pure evil, Haley thought, after she had finally completed the last evening of detention on Friday night. Would the wound on her right hand ever completely heal again? Her skin was burning like crazy. And as if that wasn't enough, she was practically asleep on her feet. Her nights with Umbridge had forced her to try and finish all of her homework until late into the night. She didn't remember the last night she'd slept more than four hours.

With drooping eyes Haley trudged down the hall. Was that a bench to her right? She didn't know if she'd be able to make it all the way up to the tower. But after a little break… she'd surely be able to go on.

As soon as Haley had sunken to the bench, her eyes closed. Just a moment, she thought, just a little moment, just a little…

Haley blinked. Where was she? How late was it? Why was her hand so cold?

Wait. It wasn't only cold but also wet. She looked down at her hand in confusion. Her hand was floating inside a bowl that was filled with a thick, yellowish liquid. And most importantly… her skin had stopped burning! It had to be because of the liquid! Hermione must have come and brought it. She'd have to thank her.

"Thanks Hermi-" Haley started to say as she turned around to see if her friend was still around somewhere. But Hermione was nowhere to be found.

Instead she was faced with a boy in Slytherin green robes. Her dearest enemy was sitting on the bench beside her. She wasn't even surprised anymore.

"You again?" She asked in a quiet voice. She was way too tired to deal with him.

For a second, he simply looked at her, a calm expression on his face.

"Are you feeling better?" Malfoy asked just as quietly. Haley frowned.

"Your hand..." He clarified, with a gesture of his own hand.

Oh. Her hand… Her… hand? With all the force she could muster up Haley pulled her right hand out of the bowl it had been resting in.

"You did this?" She inquired in alarm. Had the liquid actually worsened her wound?

Malfoy reached around her to keep the bowl from spilling over.

"Careful," the boy admonished, "I spent hours brewing this!" He glared at her. His face was only inches away from hers. Then it was gone.

"I didn't poison it," he said, looking down at his hands, "anyway, your hand should definitely feel better now." He paused, frowning slightly, "It contains Murtlap tentacles. They are often used in healing potions. Not that you would know," He added the last sentence in a slightly mocking tone.

Haley clenched her teeth. How dare he insult her in such a situation? Well… it was true that potions wasn't her strongest subject but still…

"Just for the record, I did know that." She said defiantly, reaching for the bowl with her left hand and holding it up to her face for inspection.

"Like I thought," she declared in a thoughtful tone, "Murtlap Essence. Let me guess, you made this from strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles?" She didn't wait for an answer. The liquid indeed looked like the one Hermione had made for her the other day.

"Hm… I guess, I can use this then." In her mind she thanked Hermione for the small bits of knowledge she always shared with whoever was there to listen. Admittedly most of the time it was more than a tad annoying but at times such as now it proved very helpful.

Haley set the bowl down at her side again and carefully let her hand soak up the liquid.

She tried not to sigh at the soothing effect it had on her burning hand.

It was hard to ignore the smug grin on Malfoy's face. Arrogant git. Why was he even doing all this?

"Stop it!" She snapped, once she couldn't ignore his presence anymore.

"Stop what?" Malfoy drawled in an amused tone. Haley turned to face him. Why did he have to be so irritating? And confusing? And attractive? No – that wasn't right! She quickly shook her head to get rid of that particular thought. It was important to keep her thoughts strictly rational! But that was easier said than done, especially with the boy right in front of her. His head was cupped in his hands with his elbows resting on top of his knees. And he was smiling… like he was exactly where he wanted to be in this moment. She simply couldn't make sense of him. Haley took a deep breath. Focus, she told herself. She looked away from him. It was easier to focus that way.

"Stop being like this," she murmured, "Stop being nice to me. Don't act like you care when you're going to treat me like the dirt underneath your shoes just a second later! Stop confusing me! Stop toying around with me like this!" Her voice had gradually started to get louder. All of a sudden she felt so angry. It was like all the build up frustration and confusion from the last weeks was finally coming to a peak.

"If you're going to hate me, fine! Do it! But I can't deal with this any longer! This – this – I don't even know – whatever the hell this is!" Malfoy was just sitting there, quietly taking in her words. Why wasn't he saying anything? Why wasn't he defending himself? Why was he just sitting there?

Haley hurled the bowl away from her. It rolled around on the floor for a few seconds, spilling its content everywhere. She didn't wait for it to stop rolling before she continued her speech.

"Why won't you say anything?" She asked, facing him now, "What do you want from me, for Merlin's sake! I just don't get it. I don't get you!" She said in frustration using her hands to express her exasperation. She breathed heavily. Malfoy still said nothing.

Then her voice turned a bit calmer, a bit softer, until it was nothing more than a whisper, "I don't understand why this is getting to me so much… It shouldn't… It shouldn't matter at all."

Haley turned away from him again. She would just leave. Why had she let her emotions get away with her? She shouldn't have tossed the bowl of Murtlap Essence. Her hand was burning up again.

But she couldn't let her discomfort show. Malfoy was watching her. She could feel his eyes on her.

The Slytherin was getting up now. Fine, leave, Haley thought, and don't bother me again!

But he wasn't leaving. Instead he was walking toward the bowl, that was lying in the middle of the hall. With his back to her, he knelt down in front of it and took something out of his robe pocket.

Once he was finished with whatever he'd been doing, he carefully walked back over to where she was sitting. 'What are you doing?' Haley wanted to ask but seeing what Malfoy was doing silenced the words in her throat. He was kneeling down in front of her, reminding her of that time in the class room earlier this week. He'd knelt down then, too, picking up her wand for her. What he was doing now, was even more shocking.

In his right hand he was holding a handkerchief that was soaked with the yellowish liquid.

With his left hand he reached for her right one and gently wrapped the handkerchief around her injury. Even after he was done he didn't let go of her hand. It felt so much better now.

How easy would it be to just give in. To just surrender to whatever it was Malfoy was planning for her. But it didn't feel right to do that just yet. Still, it wouldn't hurt to let her hand rest there for a little while. Malfoy's fingers were stroking over it with such care. Why though? Why…?

"I..." Malfoy started to say after some time, "I... probably owe you… an apology." He chuckled, never looking away from Haley's hand.

"It feels like… I'm always apologizing to you…"

Haley raised her eyebrows. "Are you kidding me? I remember one apology."

"Oh really?" He asked, sounding genuinely surprised, "Well… I must have done it in my mind then."

Haley snorted at that. Was this boy for real?

"An apology doesn't really mean much if you're going to do the same thing all over again."

"I wasn't planning to-"

"Did you already forget the incident on the train? Or when you were being an insensitive prat only one week later?" Haley interrupted his excuses.

"But I didn't mean that!"

"Well, why did you do it then?" The atmosphere around them felt electrified, as they quietly stared at one another.

Malfoy was the first to look away. He sighed deeply.

"I was going to apologize for that. Should I not do that?" His hands weren't touching hers anymore. Instead his arm was wrapped around his middle loosely. Like he needed something to hold on to. Haley felt something inside her soften at the sight. The feeling irritated her. Where had it come from?

"I didn't say that. You can do what you want but… an insincere apology… that's just a waste of time." She hadn't meant to sound this bitter toward the end.

Malfoy was biting his lips in a thoughtful way. It seemed like he was really considering her words.

"I… I hurt you. Many times…" He whispered, "I was such a prat to you, I ignored you I – I insulted you, embarrassed you – I – I – I…" He swallowed thickly.

"I'm sorry for doing that to you." He looked up at her then, eyes brimming with sincerity and something like… remorse.

"I wish I could promise not to do that again but… I doubt you'd believe me." Malfoy glanced over at her hand almost longingly. Then he looked right into her eyes.

"Do you know that your eyes are really distracting?" He asked out of the blue.

"I dreamed about them once and after I woke up I spent an hour trying to remember the exact shade of green they had."

Haley blinked. Her heart had just skipped a beat! Why did he have to say these kinds of things? And why did he have to say them in such a way that almost seemed like he was awestruck? By her? Why did he have to keep confusing her until she herself wasn't sure what she felt anymore?

She didn't like this feeling. Didn't like it at all. She felt like she was drowning… Like she was slowly losing control…

Or maybe she was going crazy? She closed her eyes firmly.

"You're saying all that. You're using all these nice words but… in the end…" Haley took a deep breath, "In the end you still haven't explained. Anything." She concluded, focusing her eyes on the ceiling above her now.

"As far as I know, this is nothing but another game of yours," she continued, "I'm sick of being the punchline to another of your jokes – I –"

"Does this seem like a joke to you?" Malfoy yelled, effectively silencing her. "Look at me, for Merlin's sake!"

Haley glanced down to where Malfoy was kneeling. Literally on his knees, trying to make her believe him. It seemed like the picture of sincerity.

Well… in that moment he did seem sincere. More than that! But still… could she seriously just forget everything that had happened before?

"It's true," Malfoy admitted, "Lately… I haven't really done a lot to make you trust me but… don't you remember last year?"

"Last year?" Haley echoed, slightly confused about the sudden turn the conversation was taking.

"Yes," it seemed her non-aggressive reaction was encouraging him, "last year. Don't you remember how I helped you get through all the tasks? Why would I have done that if my goal was to harm you?"

"What do you mean you helped me through all the tasks…?" What was he on about? Had she missed something?

"Well, I guess it was just that one task…" he conceded.

The frown on Haley's face became more prominent. Malfoy sighed, rolling his eyes.

"The Second Task? The egg-clue? You had a little problem with breathing underwater and I presented you with a fool-proof solution? Did you forget that?"

"The gillyweed!" That's what the boy had been talking about! Now she knew where this was going. Except… no she still didn't have an idea.

"But… but that was Dobby! I got the gillyweed from Dobby!"

For a moment Malfoy had seemed elated at the recognition in her voice. Now he looked confused.

"No, no, no! That was me!" He said with a frown, "I gave you that note, remember? I was the one who told you to meet me in front of the kitchens that night. I gave the gillyweed to Dobby and asked him to give it to you! That was all me!"

His eyes opened wide, he seemingly tried to convince her with nothing but his grey orbs. But that wasn't even necessary. In a second a few things that hadn't hadn't quite added up before were making much more sense. It had seemed suspicious that she had met Dobby in the one night where she'd purposefully made her way down to the kitchens. And coincidentally he had also got her the gillyweed on top of that. If Haley remembered correctly, Dobby had seemed as if he was hiding something from her. And also…

"Neville!" She exclaimed, thinking of another thing.

"Actually, my name is Dra–"

"You stole his book about the water plants! Neville said, he had lost it, but… that was actually you, wasn't it? You found out about the gillyweed through Neville's book!"

Malfoy simply raised one eyebrow in answer.

Haley felt like something in her vision was righting itself all of a sudden. Something that had been upside-down for a long time was now standing right-side-up in front of her. It was a thrilling, exhilarating feeling. Like suddenly anything she could imagine was possible.

"You've been helping me… all along," she said in wonder. She remembered how helpless she'd felt back then. How much of a burden the whole tournament had been. And he'd really been there by her side. Irritating her. Disrupting her focus. But there nevertheless.

Malfoy shrugged. He wasn't meeting her eyes. Was that a faint blush she saw on his cheeks?

"Why didn't you tell me?" Haley asked.

The Slytherin sighed, "Well… you know…"

Haley waited, one eyebrow in the air.

"It's not… really – something… I would do, is it? Can't have people mistake me for a Gryffindor! Or even worse, one of those sickeningly well-meaning Hufflepuffs." He was shuddering in disgust. But beneath that, it was obvious that a part of him didn't worry about the Hufflepuff part too much.

Maybe he even enjoyed doing something nice for a change. Or was that thought too optimistic?

"You could have told me though," Haley said, leaning forward a bit. And then she did two things. One thing she herself wasn't expecting and the other thing, she had been wanting to do for a long time. She slipped from the bench to the ground until she was situated in front of Malfoy. Kneeling as well. Then she reached for his shoulder and let her hand rest on top of it softly.

She took a deep breath and released it in one short sentence, "Thank you."

The words seemed to confuse him. He kept looking back and forth between her face and the hand on his shoulder in a surprised way.

"Why…" He paused, trying to find his voice, "Why would you thank me? After everything..."

He trailed of. All of a sudden he looked inexplicably sad.

Haley bit her lips. It was hard to find the right words.

"I… kept hoping..." she said in a quiet voice.

"Hoping?" Malfoy asked, still sounding doubtful. But there was also a hopefulness in his voice that took her back to a wondrous night with a fairy that seemed like it had transpired in a whole different life time.

"Hoping that… I hadn't been wrong about you. That-" She stopped herself. While she'd been talking Malfoy had slowly raised his head until he was finally meeting her eyes. There it was again. Hope. What was it he was hoping for? Regardless of the answer it was that urgency that made her heart stop. That made her throw caution to the wind and tell him exactly what had been on her mind. What she had been afraid to say in case all of this was nothing more than a joke. It was now or never.

"That there was more to you. More than what you let everyone else see. I kept hoping…what I saw that night… That it was true. That you were more than just a heartless bully."

For a moment Malfoy didn't say a word. He just looked at her in wonder. Almost like he wasn't understanding what she had been saying. Haley didn't dare blink. She was too anxious for the Slytherin's reaction. And when had her heart started to beat so fast? Maybe it had something to do with the way Malfoy's lips were slightly parted or how his eyes were virtually shining.

Then he made a sound between a laugh and a sob. And he laughed again in a way that was hopeful and hesitant at the same time.

In a move that was almost too fast for Haley's Seeker reflexes, Malfoy took her left hand in his.

He removed her other hand from his shoulder and cradled it in his own hands as well. He didn't look at her. He was too busy watching their hands. But that didn't mean Haley couldn't look at him.

He seemed almost delighted. Like he just-

Huh? Had he just pressed a kiss onto her hand? Haley's eyes widened. They hadn't even talked about this. This other thing.

Without giving him a chance to kiss her hand a second time, she pulled it away from his grasp, ignoring the disappointment on his face. She looked away.

"Sorry," Malfoy whispered, "I… I couldn't help it…"

She didn't answer but she glanced over at him quickly. He was blushing again! Haley chuckled quietly at that. It made him look really cute. She bit her lip shyly. Where had that thought come from? She leaned her knees against her chest and wrapped her arms around them, letting her head rest on top of her arms.

It was quiet for a few seconds. Or minutes? Haley didn't know. She also didn't dare look up from the ground.

Malfoy inhaled audibly, as if he wanted to say something. But there were no words. Had she imagined that only? After another moment he took another deep breath. This time he also spoke.

"I… Does that mean you're… are you giving me another chance?"

Haley was conflicted. One part of her said 'Don't be a fool. He's only tricking you. It wouldn't be the first time', while the other more forgiving part told her, 'Can't you see that he's being sincere? What will you do if he ends up becoming a death eater and it's all your fault. Because you turned him down today?'.

Haley had often heard that she was like her mother. She always saw the good in people. It sounded like a positive trait at first. But she couldn't shake the feeling that it would come back to bite her one day. Haley had already made up her mind as she was raising her head, and meeting Malfoy's grey eyes at last.

"How do I know… that you won't change your mind again next week?" She had to ask that. It was a legitimate doubt, wasn't it?

Malfoy chuckled darkly, "I brought this on myself," he whispered, "Of course you don't believe me. Why would you?" It was a question but he didn't give her a chance to answer.

"Let me…show you," he said with renewed confidence, "Give me… I don't know – three months to show you how serious I am about this. How much I… care… about you."

Malfoy looked so sincere in that moment, she wanted to cry. Well she wasn't about to cry in front of him. And not over something like that.

"Three months?" She asked skeptically.

Malfoy pouted at her tone. "Fine, two months," he conceded.

Haley raised her eyebrows in a doubtful way.

Malfoy scowled. "One. Month. Then." He gritted out.

She inspected her fingernails in an unimpressed way. If she was going to keep herself from grinning, she couldn't look at him. His irritation was far too amusing.

"Half a month?" He asked quietly.

"Four weeks it is then," Haley told her fingernails in a disinterested voice.

"Fine," Malfoy spat, "Two weeks, four weeks, I'm sure I can convince you of my fabulousness in only a day."

Haley snorted at that. She finally looked up at him, laughing.

"Yeah?" She asked curiously. Malfoy's eyes were full of determination. She smiled.

"You bet. I'll show you on our trip to Hogsmeade next weekend."

"Excuse me?" Haley frowned. Had she missed something?

"There's a Hogsmeade trip planned for next weekend and I-"

"I know that. What I meant is I don't remember you actually asking me to go or anything."

He looked dumbfounded.

"But I thought-"

"What?" She asked in a dangerous voice.

Malfoy cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

"So…there's a Hogsmeade trip coming up next weekend. I thought you might like – I mean -" He stopped when he saw the unimpressed expression on her face.

"Would you – would you like to go together?" He was trying really hard. Haley saw that. But she couldn't bring herself to simply say yes. Not after everything that had happened before. And there was also something else. She was forgetting something. Or someone? But she couldn't remember what it was. She blamed it on her tiredness.

"I'll think about it," she said, and hadn't she said those exact words not too long ago? To someone else?

Malfoy had seemed optimistic before. Now his expression was back to being slightly guarded.

"If you don't want to just say so. I don't care for false promises and empty words." He glared at her warily. Maybe it hadn't been the most clever way of putting it.

"I didn't mean to-"

"Well, you didn't say yes!" Malfoy interrupted her hotly.

We have to be the most stubborn and hot-headed people in the castle, Haley thought to herself. Was it possible for them to have even one conversation without either of them raising their voice?

"I didn't say no either," she reminded him, trying to stay calm.

Malfoy regarded her in a thoughtful way for a moment.

"So, you're really going to think about it?" He inquired finally. Haley nodded.

"Make sure to let me know once you've decided," he said, seeming somewhat convinced.

"Sure," she whispered, "You'll be the first to know." She smiled softly.

There was a tiny smile on his face as well and for a few seconds they just sat there softly smiling at one another. In that moment it was hard to imagine how cold his eyes had been, how they had reminded her of a harsh winter storm. Now the iciness had made way for a more… a more…

Haley yawned. Her eyes were drooping again. Now that all the excitement was somewhat over, her body had decided to remind her, that she was incredibly tired.

Malfoy was getting to his feet. "Come on, it's late," he said, extending his hand.

It would change everything if she took his hand now. But maybe that wasn't a bad thing?

She briefly considered ignoring it and getting up on her own but in her current state of tiredness the thought alone seemed nearly impossible.

So she took the hand that was hovering in front of her and let Malfoy help her up.

She still felt the same. She was still Haley. But then, what had she been expecting?

"I'll take you back to your common room," Malfoy told her. He was still holding her hand.

"I'll manage, thanks," she muttered with a frown. His hand was cold. Why was it so cold?

"I'm sure of that. But it's already past curfew. What if a teacher catches you?"

Was he worrying about her? What a ridiculous thought.

"And what are you going to do about that?" She asked curiously. It didn't feel different from holding Hermione's hand really.

"Well, I'm a prefect. Did you forget that?" He adjusted his grip on her hand. There was no spark. Shouldn't there be a spark? Or a tingly feeling at least? In any case it didn't feel unpleasant.

"You sound like Percy," she chuckled, "And what are you going to say, when we come across a teacher? Will you tell them that you were just escorting me back to Gryffindor Tower?"

"Well I… I'll think of something…" He said unconvincingly. He wasn't even acknowledging her jab about Percy. Instead he started to swing their hands back and forth. Haley wasn't sure Malfoy was even aware of what his hand was doing.

"Just… come on," he insisted impatiently. The way he tugged at her hand, Haley thought he was trying to tear her arm off or something. At least it wasn't her injured hand.

"As convincing as that sounds, I'm afraid I-" She stopped herself. Was that the sound of footsteps?

Malfoy seemed to hear it, too. He let her hand fall without hesitating for a second. She knew why he'd done it of course but It kind of bothered her that he was so quick to let go.

"Ah, there you are. Hermione was worried you'd gotten yourself into trouble aga-"

Haley turned to where the voice had come from. Ron. He hadn't spotted Malfoy at first but now that he'd stepped further into the hall, he glared at him.

"Leave her alone! You slimy, arrogant, little-"

"Weasley." Malfoy interrupted him in a rather neutral tone.

Ron watched him warily, clearly waiting for the insults that were bound to follow.

Haley was waiting, too. She didn't know what she was waiting for though.

Malfoy turned to face her again. He was wearing his signature smirk but it didn't seem mean-spirited to her. There was still warmth in his eyes.

"Night, Potter," he drawled. Then he turned around and vanished in the direction of the dungeons.

Ron was at her side in less than a second.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you? What happened?" He asked, looking her over worriedly.

Haley didn't know how to properly answer either of those questions. So she simply shook her head.

"I really don't get that git. He usually never wastes an opportunity to be a jerk. I mean what was that? Honestly..." Ron trailed off, shaking his head. "You may be right about him. His behaviour is definitely suspicious. We should keep our eyes on him – Haley?"

Haley had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't paid attention to where she was going. She was standing in the middle of the stair case that lead up to their tower with her shoe stuck inside one of the trick steps. Ron had caught her arm, so that she wouldn't fall.

"I missed the trick step," Haley said in confusion. She never missed the trick step.

"You missed the trick step," Ron repeated sounding equally confused.

"Are you really okay?" He asked, once he'd helped her pull her shoe out of the step.

"I – yeah," Haley offered slowly, "I'm just… really really tired."

It wasn't like Ron to press for more information. Even if he did suspect there was more behind her words. He wasn't comfortable talking about "feelings and all that mushy stuff", as he would put it. And he'd never initiate that sort of conversation. There was no doubt he would listen to her worries if she came to talk to him about them. But he'd let her come to him in her own time. It was something she appreciated about her friend. After all she wasn't near ready to tell him that Draco Malfoy had kind of asked her on a date. And… what was even more insane was the fact that she was actually considering to say yes.

…

[emoney2708-blog]

Marlene said we would find out...

... why Ali was such a bitch in flashbacks... I always thought this meant (or wanted it to mean) that Ali wasn't the real Ali. That the Ali we've known post flashbacks, was the real Ali's twin and that's why they were so different. I thought there was no way in hell a person could go from being so damn hateful to being actually pretty decent. Until now that was my only answer.... after this past episode I believe Marlene meant something totally different. Maybe this is the real Ali and maybe she was such a hateful person because she hated herself. She called Lucas hermie and Hanna hefty and picked on everybody because she couldn't accept who she was. She didn't want to be a lesbian. As she came to terms with herself she started to love herself and eventually love other people, queue pretty decent Ali. All of this came to me when I started thinking about Brendans interview... he's saying there have been major clues as to who A.D. is... If i really sit here and think, all I can come up with as far as major clues go is this.... for one Charles (cough WREN please god be WREN but no god no I don't want him and Spencer related😁). I believe everything CeCe said was a lie, so Charles being alive and well is very possible. The whole comic book A ending screams WREN, I mean Charles to me. This might incorporate a romantic tragedy between him and bethany) Next person and probably the first person is Bethany. So much points to her from earlier seasons prior to Marlene finding out they got 2 extra years. The Bethany storyline was so abruptly dropped; there has to be more!! I could think of the romantic tragedy storyline happening here. Now, to contradict myself at the top, ALISON!! Everything from the first A texts that were supposedly Mona to even still with the boardgame telling Hanna prison food makes you fat. This entire show would make total sense if it was Ali. Her motives? Not sure, she would obviously have to be very sick to be playing with people like dolls. I couldn't think of a way to fit the romantic storyline in here. Unless bethany and Ali had a secret lovers relationship🤔🤔 I could go on and on and point out everything that points to each person but just to make this semi short and sweet I'll leave it👍👍

[jonjordanforrealz]

Elfpocalypse Now: Redux, Volume 4

When the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars, the elf takes control of my brain and ceases production on this here blog (or something like that).

Clearly, I’ve not been thinking correctly of late. And you guessed it, I blame Joself Stalin.

The good news is, I haven’t forgotten to move the sonofabitch despite many recent distractions. Atop the list is another work trip last week for Mrs. Jordan, a real up-and-coming, jet-setting superstar all of a sudden. When she’s gone, I really have to lock in on making sure the house doesn’t explode, the dog doesn’t perish, and both of the kids remain living at home, so it is quite the wonder that, last Thursday night, I managed to accomplish all of the above AND handle both elfly and Tooth Fairy-ly duties in the same evening.

You might recall that the littlest Jordan recently questioned the existence of the latter, making me curious as to just how well this yuletide season might go for ol’ Hermie. Fortunately (I think) Christmas magic has seemed to remain real, at least as far as the boys’ excitement in discovering his whereabouts each morning goes. My creativity has returned in small spurts as well, yielding placements such as jammed into the sliding door of our new entertainment center (take that, ya fuck!), upside down behind the fish tank (so he could peer through the glass to creep out our Betta, Skittles), resting on the headboard on Mom’s side of the bed (waiting for her on the night she returned to Terrordome), and resting comfortably in a straddle position behind the sink in the boys’ bathroom. 

That last one was probably something of a mistake. One, he was kinda riding the water spout like Seabiscuit, which, well ... you know ... Two, my kids aren’t quite ducks in the bathroom but they splash a bit, and he got a little wet. (I’d hoped for a wicked witch-esque result here but that was not to be.) And three, I think we should probably just rule out the bathroom for anything like this forevermore. That’s private time and if I ever expect anyone to obey my let’s-not-try-to-barge-in-on-dad-or-talk-through-the-door-when-he’s-doing-his-best-thinking rule, I shouldn’t be willfully facilitating the presence of weirdos, inanimate or otherwise, into anyone’s bathroom.

As usual, my small missteps in life beckon the universe to kick me in the ass with a karma-kaze. In this case, it missed my ass and kicked me square in the back - an intermittent trouble spot for yours truly since Old Lady McGee smashed into me in front of the train tracks several years ago. Most of that damage was dealt with in the early-going, thanks to heavy doses of chiropractic and massage on her insurance company’s dime, but the odd setback still plays a role in my life from time to time. This occasion was brought about (aside from the cosmic influence, of course) by my efforts in our latest “episode” of Jordan Family Wrestling, when my attempt to escape an armbar by lifting Meatloaf into the air resulted in a snap-crackle-pop betwixt the shoulder blades. 

Normally, like any self-respecting wuss, I’d just crumble to the ground at this point but with Boy 1 horizontal and a good four feet into the air, I had to bear with it and let him down easy (while blurting out, “Oh, sugarplums! My back!”) [Editor’s note: Validity of this quote is questionable. Substitute for “sugarplums” may have been made.] Meatloaf (or “Ultimate Bad Guy” as he is now known in this fantasyland of ours) asked if I needed a time out and I gladly accepted. Gracious, yes, but moments later, as I writhed in pain on his floor, he reminded me that, if I couldn’t continue, I would have to relinquish my championship. Vince McMahon taught me that, in the wrestling world, no matter what, the show must go on and therefore, as I told Boy 1/Meatloaf/UBG, I have to finish the match.

A little chain wrestling and a whole lot of grin/grunt-and-bear-it later, keeping kayfabe for our audience of 0 (or 1 if you count “Bear Guy” - the stuffed bear who is sometimes the ref, sometimes an audience member, sometimes a partner, and sometimes an adversary) I whispered the magic words, “Go home!” and laid out Ultimate Bad Guy for the 1-2-3 to retain my title.

And then, I laid face down on the floor and thought about how bad this might be, while asking the boy to keep this our little secret and not tell his momma that Daddy wrenched his back in a wrestling match against this household’s favorite 10-year-old.

To pull off the latest ruse of the season, I would forge forward with plans to build the aforementioned new entertainment center - probably not the best idea in my compromised state. Mid-construction (aided only by a can of beer) Mom returned and within seconds was informed that, “Daddy hurt his back wrestling me.” So now, we have a rat on our hands.

All in due time, boy. Just as I paid the price for exposing my father’s affinity for Vanna White way back when, you will learn the importance of not selling out dear old Dad.

I have persevered and things have improved in the last 24 hours, albeit ever-so-slightly, but my head still doesn’t appear to be on straight and when I walk, I feel not unlike a question mark.

We’ll give this decision to the elf. But he knows not of “The Destroyer’s” penchant for vengeance, not to mention the vicious and inescapable custom finisher he’s been working on to ultimately close out this holiday season.

The universe is undefeated, yes, and our hero took one on the chin (or the spine as it were, this time) but nobody kicks out of the dreaded People’s Elfbow.

Nobody!

[dykeyote]

im sorry im talking abotu you were an easy mark its not in an haha hes lying oakworthy wins and thats all i have 2 say way i swear but its just like we talk about how hes obviously lying but why did he pick the MOST obvious lie he could have possibly told . like yes duh he was lying he clearly has feelings for normal hermie unworthy told a lie whos shocked but like he didnt have to say normal was an easy mark is the thing that gets me . there were a thousand diff reasons he could have given as to why he was faking feelings for normal i can think of several much more believable ones . why did he pick the most blatantly fucking false option . and i thought abt it and i was like oh well i guess he could have meant that normal Seemed like an easy mark at the Beginning which would explain why he almost fucking died for an "easy mark" BUT THAT DOESNT EVEN MAKE SENSE because he didnt start blatantly flirting w normal, Really, until the papa johns arc WHERE HE GOT HALF HIS FACE BURNED?????? if anything by this rationale he started flirting w him the second he realized normal WASNT an easy mark . so if that was his logic then hes STILL stupid and STILL dumb and STILL a weirdly bad liar for a likely . AND NORMAL KNOWS THESE THINGS?????? its not even like hes Hiding the fact that normal is objectively not a fucking easy mark and was very blatantly not one by the very moment that hermie started hitting on him normal was literally there . fucking obviously . and again yes weve discussed this but he literally could have been like . "because im a likely and i scam people it was in my weird scammer instincts to scam you it had nothing to do with liking you you were just who it landed on" . or "because of my previously mentioned weird scammer instincts i felt intensely committed to the stealing teeny bit and had to keep going with it and i couldnt stop until it was as devastating as possible" . or "because i hated you since you had a perfectly normal dad and a perfectly normal mom and you were still so sad about it i wanted to destroy you emotionally" . or SOMETHING ELSE literally ANYTHING ELSE his whole nonsense about his instinctual desire 2 scam is a goldmine for reasons why he could have picked normal and thats not even all why did he pick the dumbest fucking reason none of us are discussing the fact that he didnt HAVE TO LIE BADLY there are ways he could have lied that would have been moderately believable btu he just DIDNT . and he thinks hes such a good actor . that is so funny . idk why im writing a manifesto ive taken my various cocktail of meds so that might be the deal but it just entrances me . like i get he was trying to convey like oooo you want validation and so it was EASY ..... or whatever like i know what he was trying to say with his dumb little speech but its just . the longer i think about it . the more insane i grow bc its genuinely so stupid he did not have to say that shit he could have told a good lie . but did i have to write over 500 words about how stupid he is for that? no. and i did anyway. so whos the real fool

[jonjordanforrealz]

The Chronicles of Elfdom

Last December, I documented my struggles with Hermie the Elf - you know, of the “on a shelf” variety, sure, but more accurately, in my head, eating my brain and in my soul, tormenting from here to eternity. 

This is my story, shared only in hopes that it may help others.

Tread lightly... Vol 1: Narrowly avoided complete disaster after totally forgetting about the little bastard on Night 1, despite having read the special book/instruction manual/elf commandments at bedtime. Oldest boy Kramers through our bedroom door at 0500, announcing that he'd prefer to use our bathroom over his. As I pondered the logic behind this, thinking, "Boy, he's assertive," something felt amiss and within seconds, I realized my worst December nightmares (since exam time during the old teaching days) were already coming true. As Boy 1 finished his business, I sprung into action, anticipating his yearning to find our annual household guest at this ungodly hour, escorting his proactive little ass back to his bedroom. Always (read: sometimes) a step ahead, I waited in the hallway for the inevitable: an attempted rendezvous to join forces with little brother. After that was easily intercepted, it was time for a little psychological warfare. Warding off both emotional sabotage (Boy 1's, "Daddy, I love you") and an honesty play (Boy 2's, "We we were trying to find Hermie but he's tricky") some redirecting was in order. Authoritative Dad speaks! "It's 5:00 am. No one comes to this house unless everyone is sleeping." With that understanding in mind, aided by the musical distractions of the old Epcot Canadian band and, of course, Kidz Bop 27, I hunted down Public Enemy #1 in his top secret hideaway. Tucked away in a Target bag - dead giveaway, right? Duh. - I shoved him into my pocket and moved on to recover the donuts that he brought with him from the North Pole. Breaking kayfabe here, I'd actually purchased these GMO-laden diabetes bombs myself from Dunkin Donuts on the way home last night, on direct orders from the General, but yes, still totally forgot about this whole charade... Does anyone realize how fucking loud a paper bag is at 5:15 am? Donuts on a paper plate and little orphan Hermie's demanding ass still secured in my Florida State sleepy pants, I knew I had very little time to reach the intended destination and disappear into whatever remained of this night. Cat- or zombie-like in my movements (not quite sure which) down went the plate and into a bouquet of flowers leftover from Thanksgiving landed Osama - or whatever his name is. Somehow, now back behind my bedroom door, I'd survived. There would be no more sleeping for our hero this morning. The sweet taste of victory would be the lone reward. Looking ahead to Night 2, it is possible that we may bribe an acquaintance to drop the bomb on Boy 1, letting him know that this is all a bunch of honkybonk, and thus, instantly creating a valuable ally to continue the ruse for Boy 2. It is now clear that the oldest is the mastermind of what will surely be a constant barrage of this sort of subterfuge for the next 24 days. Vol 2:

There will be no threat of disaster tonight. Since yesterday's torment weighed on my mind all day, it would have been nearly impossible to forget my elfly duties this evening. So, there he sits, the little prick. He's made friends with another rather smug trio that has taken up residence in my home (rent-free, I might add.) Yes, nestled snugly between Alvin and Simon, while Theodore's fat ass looks on, in the morning, the kids will find Hermie, appearing to have read the timeless holiday classic, "Santa Comes to Florida" with his rodent buddies. If you haven't read this piece of literature, it's worth at least a passing glance. But I must warn you that it isn't all that accurate. For one, there is no mention of meth or bath salts, even as Santa flies right over Apopka. And two, there isn't a lot of love for Melbourne, which is pretty shameful since such visionaries as Jim Morrison, Darrell Hammond and that guy I went to high school with who ended up in that reality show boy band are among its native sons. Let's not get too sidetracked here. There is still work to be done. I was informed earlier that one of Boy 2's little friends announced that he received a letter from Santa himself this morning, officially putting him on "The Nice List," while, shame on me, all I did was make sure the kids saw the fuckin' elf and got to eat donuts for breakfast., sacrificing sleep, sanity and something else I forgot about because I'm tired and crazy. I guess lil' man used the power of deductive reasoning and, sans Santa letter, convinced himself he was on "The Naughty List," creating a bit of a challenge at bedtime. Dad here, who may or may not have occupied a spot on the unsavory version of the imaginary fat man's lists a time or two over the years, did his best to convince the young buck that he was not on any such document - that things were going just fine - but I'm not sure he bought it. Thanks to utter exhaustion, a self-inflicted derivative of last night's bullshit adventures, sleep came quickly for the littlest Jordan, allowing me time to think of what I might include in the now necessary piece of prose needed to support my earlier claims of his green light toward Christmas presents galore. Ideally, it'd be straightforward: [Hey, kid(s). If you're worried that you might be on the wrong side of Santa's ledger, maybe you weren't as good as you thought you were all year. You ever hear of the NSA? Ever see any of my text messages? Holy shit! Now that's a list you don't want to worry about being on. Anyway... Keep the faith. The truth is, we like you. And you'd probably have to try to stab one or both of us before we'd make sure you didn't get anything at all for Christmas. Love, Dad PS: On Saturday, I want you to sleep until 10 am. Remember: THE LIST!] But traditions are traditions and in this family, as in so many others, we lie like a muthafucka - especially around the holidays! And so, the propaganda continues. Hermie, it will appear, took a break from reading his Florida Santa book to his pals to write a letter to the Jordan kids, detailing how fantastic they've been and urging them to be good listeners and make good choices at least for a few more weeks. (Pretty suspicious - or "ironic," as Alanis Morrisette might deem it - that the stuffed elf, who I think wears makeup, uses the exact same discipline terminology as Mom and Dad do, ain't it? These kids get any smarter any time soon and they'll bust me for sure. And what then?!?) Depending on what time they wake up in the morning, I may have to stage a sacrifice when it comes to the chipmunk population in this home. If we can send positive messages via letters from imaginary people, we can also send negative messages by offing a fake friend or two. And since they haven't seen "Christmas Vacation" just yet, nor do they know for sure that I don't have a Cousin Eddie, they'll have no idea that he stopped eating chipmunks (yeah, yeah, chipmunks and squirrels are different things, I get it) when he found out they were high in cholesterol. Black and white photos should do. I'll use the old Hitchcock chocolate syrup trick. Tomorrow brings the added challenges of that batshit crazy Chick-Fil-A with all the lights, what the food there does to my insides and selecting the 2016 Jordan Family Christmas tree. There will be booze. Two down, 23 to go. Vol 3:

It's clear that my efforts here are drawing something of a crowd, which is much appreciated but not at all the intent. One trusted advisor has even suggested I attempt to profit financially from this record but the truth is simply this: It has to be done. For the betterment of all mankind, our successes and failures with this Johnny-come-lately holiday irritant must be documented. Tonight, I was reminded of a better day that has passed us by. As we decorated our tree, I took some inventory of the many ornaments we've accumulated over the years. Among them, holiday stalwarts like Frosty the Snowman, Santa Claus and The Grinch make their presence known. We also have the typical representation of some of our sports teams (all of whom suck out loud), life milestones ("2006 New Home" is a real joy, since that was two houses, two kids and one lawsuit ago) and the innocence of homemade trinkets featuring the younger versions of Boy 1 and Boy 2, long before they discovered the art of whining. There is also an ornament that is simply a beer glass (right on!) and the disembodied head of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, which I find terrifying. It wasn't so long ago that my biggest holiday concern was making sure that as few of these characters were damaged during tree-trimming time as possible. (Why do they call it "tree-trimming" anyway? When I go to get my hair trimmed, I'm not looking for Akbar the barber to scatter random trinkets about my rapidly-depleting mane.) But as I longed for the days of yore tonight, there it was, right in my face, as if to say, "Not so fast, asshole! The glory days are over, mother fucker!" Hermie - this sonofoabitchofanelf - is also present as an ornament on our tree. Well, shit in my hat. Just as I discovered this mini version of our mini-monster, both boys began to melt down, merely an hour past their regular bedtime, and I was already on my way to a conniption fit myself, three days into the shit and already running out of placement ideas for Elfrey Dahmer. Coincidental timing, my ass! This guy's in my head. Or he's like the alien thing from Stranger Things. If my lights start flickering, I'm setting him on fire and we'll tell the kids he didn't stop, drop or roll because he wasn't a good listener. But at least I'm not in danger of forgetting at the moment. Tomorrow may prove difficult, what with multiple activities involving alcohol already scheduled - after the children's sporting events, as per societal acceptance. I figure if I can make it through a day like that and still move "it" from Point A to Point B, that's a big win for ol' Daddio. His mind powers working on both me and the young'ins tonight jives with my recognizing the cheery-cheeked, red-and-white clad fuzzy thing to be quite clearly a demon in cahoots with Beelzebub himself. So, I've now paired him up with a dragon statue that we have atop our curio cabinet. (Never thought you'd hear me use the term "curio cabinet," did you, old friends? That's right, I'm cultured. Or I've lost all street cred. Not quite sure which distinction to hang onto here.) What's the connection between Hermalerm and the dragon? Well, heroin of course. That's right, kids, the elf didn't just chase the dragon. He caught the damn thing. Which means as I drift off to sleep tonight, I'll be headed for a righteous dream of Hermie sinking through the floor to the sounds of Lou Reed's "Perfect Day," a la Trainspotting. You'll be alright, elf boy, but this one won't be easy. One bucket for urine, one for feces, and one for vomitus. Preparation is key. You're in a new kind of hell for now, fella. See you on the flip. Vol 4:

The voodoo appears to be working. In the last 24 hours, my better half and I have each been caught making mention of "having a talk with Hermie" about this instance of a slight misstep in behavior or that. It's worth pondering what sort of residual effect this may have on the boys (or any kids, really) long-term. Is life truly one observed event after another, with an eye in the sky passing judgment in turn? And let's not get all religious here. I'm seeing this through an Orwellian lens at the moment. If we do slip up, must we live in fear of being told on? I should get out more... Speaking of, having been out quite a bit yesterday, bailing on my "move the elf" responsibility was a distinct possibility but it did not come to pass. Late at night, headache looming, our favorite holiday hobo was relocated from the dragon's back to a high perch overlooking the entrance to Boy 1's room. It's a creepy spot for sure. Like, if you were to walk out of your bedroom and find a person situated the way Hermie is at the moment, laying on his belly, chin resting on his hands, smiling like a whackjob, cheeks as rosy as ever, you'd definitely call the cops. Or shoot him. Or both. The creative maneuvers are lacking for yours truly this year - although I guess mounting the dragon was pretty cool. That's ok, though. My goal is simply to survive this month with as few mid-sleep panic attacks as possible. Started off 1-for-1 but we have a clean slate since, so I'll call it a win so far. Perhaps tonight, we'll set the elf up with a lady or something - freak Carrie out a little, if nothing else. The boys have been warned - née, reminded - that no one is supposed to be up and moving about until at least 7 am in this house (great rule, hardly ever followed) and they seem pretty beat from a long weekend so there might be hope for a more restful slumber. If not, maybe it's time for the elf to get shelved for a day or two, go visit Santa (or Satan?) or something. That'll get these tired kids back on track. Tired kids are like drunk adults, by the way. But that's a story for a different setting. 21 days to go. Zeus help me. Vol 5:

There has been no shortage of remarkable moments in our adventures with the red devil of late. Boy 1, in an apparent attempt to extort his elf friend, left him a tangerine on Monday, after finding him purportedly reading through one of Mom's cupcake cookbooks. Perhaps he was being proactive, in the event that the elf delivers cupcakes as he did donuts on opening day of this annual charade. A simple, "Hey, man. I gave you a tangerine. Whatchyougot for me?" Or maybe he's overheard dear ol' Dad opine on the corruption of politics, in general. Either way, Boy 2 was not pleased. The littlest Jordan, you see, has developed an affinity for these tangerines and while he is almost always quite willing to share his snacks, such was not the case here, as he relocated Boy 1's offering back to its original box. This incensed the elder sibling and the back-and-forth game from tangerine box to offering table began. I should note that the boys are still suffering from Christmasitis - the plague that renders otherwise lovable little humans into demon beings, drunk on exhaustion, impulsive and exhibiting a bravado unbecoming of their age or social status. Now off to school, Mom stepped in with a solution, staging a scene where the elf appeared to have eaten the tangerine in question, abandoning his cookbook perch in favor of a seated position at a makeshift snack area and leaving scraps behind, along with a note that read, "Thanks for the tangerine! I'll only eat one!" (It is also likely that a smiley face was included but I cannot confirm with any certainty, having destroyed this document, and thus, in the name of accuracy and out of respect for journalism, it is omitted here.) This was, largely, an intelligent counter tactic by my female counterpart and while its intended result - assuaging the pending civil war betwixt brothers with a reasonable compromise - was achieved, ultimately, the strategy lacked the necessary foresight to continue the mind games without needling questions from the youngsters. Of utmost importance: "Wait... You moved him?" Crickets. "No, kid," I thought to myself - but dared not say aloud. "He moved himself, of course!" But, of course, this was not supposed to be a part of the pestilent pixie's skillset! For his meandering about is only supposed to take place at night, according to the owner's manual! Far be it from Mom to not have her next move planned, however, and as I stood stock still, considering a swift exit strategy (were the neighbors home? Could a friend pick me up? Where is my rocketpack?) as if beamed in by the projector of Orson Welles himself, the holiday classic "Home Alone" was suddenly on the living room television and Mom's invite for cuddle time was accepted by both young Jordans. Crisis averted, once more. In the time since, the attitudes of drunken demon children 1 and 2 have worsened. Boy 1 resisted piano practice and was not permitted to walk the neighborhood to look at Christmas lights in turn, then admittedly plotted revenge on yours truly, attempting to stave off bedtime as long as possible by prancing about the house, giggling and speaking in tongues. And Boy 2 ignored my orders to disarm, wielding his light saber freely about the living room as though I wasn't even there. With Mom on a run (and not 100% sure she was coming back) I engaged hand-to-hand, demilitarizing my target and receiving his "Mad Dog" glare for my troubles. In fairness, Boy 2 pulled it together enough to join me on the aforementioned Christmas walk, where he graciously educated me on the difference between frogs and what he calls "toadfrogs," (apparently this has everything to do with their tongues - who knew?) and I shared with him my disdain for projector lights. Nonetheless, the net result of Sunday/Monday called for a sabbatical for the nefarious imp creature, who has, as far as the boys know, "gone to visit Santa for a day or two," according to my - no, his! - note. Improvements are expected in short order but just in case, the vodka supply has been restocked. I now count 19 days, which looks far less daunting than 20. Still, my sleep pattern has been erratic. We'll call that 20% problem drinking, 60% guilt from blatantly lying to one's offspring and 20% New York Jets football. With apologies to my parents and, more importantly, to Mark Twain, I haven't told the truth, out of necessity, thanks to you-know-who, and now I can't remember anything.

Vol 6:

Tensions have subsided. The elf was brought back after the exhibition of acceptable behavior on the part of both boys on Tuesday night. 1 did a fine job at his school Christmas concert, while 2 gave a great effort at soccer practice. (It is also important to note that Dad scored a goal in an impromptu coaches/kids mixed scrimmage. That this feat was accomplished against 6- and 7-year-olds matters not.) More importantly, bedtime was without incident on the evening in question. Why that is ever an issue is still beyond me but never has a more relatable tale been told than that of "Go the Fuck to Sleep," by Samuel L. Jackson a few years back. (Well, maybe it isn't exactly the written work of Jules Winnfield himself but I'd like to think it is, as no one could possibly ever recite it better.) Boy 1 is a fan of the every-excuse-in-the-book technique (from pooping to asking questions to feigning injury to everyone taking turns laying with him, telling stories, needing water, etc.) while Boy 2 is more straightforward with his thoughts on sleep overall. Namely, he says he never sleeps. He just relaxes. While I know this isn't completely true, having witnessed him sleeping myself on thousands of occasions, there is something a little vampiresque about the littlest Jordan, who is almost always the first to arise in the morning, often long before the sun. Today, in fact, I awoke to a noise and thinking it was either intruders (that I would have to exterminate, obviously) or my youngest son dicking around (slightly more likely) I promptly began a seek-and-destroy (or G the F to S) mission. The latter scenario proved to be reality, as there he sat, hiding behind his bathroom door, sitting on the floor with the light on, cuddling with his blanket. I don't know either, people, but hey... We all have hobbies... The return of Hellboy Hermie, fresh from his visit with Santa, Satan or Sam Kinison - can't recall which and perhaps it was all - featured him choking out one of the boys' forgotten bath toys, a gator. In this house, that visual brings more joy than the hair of the dog cure-all on a Jordan Family Christmas morning. (Well, almost.) As we enjoy this new era of peace, recognizing that it may be a brief interlude, I'm appreciative of the pause its given me, for the war against the imaginary (?) black magic of this shitbag of a Christmas toy is rather taxing. 17 days. #tylenol Vol 7:

This tradition begets strange bedfellows. Hermie the Elf, who is destined to be renamed Beelzebub, I assure you, commandeered a ship belonging to Jake and the Neverland Pirates last night, along with John Cena and Sleepy (of Seven Dwarfs fame.) Oh, if this were only real, what an adventure they may have had overnight. Sleepy, groggy to the point of hallucination, no doubt, likely from a mixture of NyQuil, booze and some medicinal herb (since we can do that here now!) wouldn’t have been much help to his shipmates. The elf, in his Luciferian glory, perched atop the crow’s nest, would attempt to serve as captain, I would think, causing immediate conflict with Cena, the jorts-wearing, self-important hero, who nobody above the age of 12 really likes. (I’m told he was actually at a local bar I’ve been to a time or 200 a couple of weeks ago. Think I could take him?) They’d square off at some point to determine the alpha male and I’d have to give that decision to the only being on this ship with supernatural, other-worldly powers. “You can’t see me,” John? Well, that’s fine. Hermie doesn’t need to see you to breathe demon fire into your soul. And they'd land at their final destination knowing that the little red-faced asshole with the pointy hat was absolutely in charge. The destination was our TV stand, by the way, because I didn't feel like thinking anymore - or leaving the ship somewhere it might easily fall, ruining everything for everyone. (Or saving them?) The children seemed to approve of this newly established faction, upon this morning's discovery, and I suppose that’s what it’s all about. Unfortunately, it’s also proven to be all about my own sick mind, full of delusions and unfulfilled desires belonging to my inner child. Back in my day, all we had was the mystique of Santa Claus himself – and thanks to friends, Sean and Tina, that gig was up for me at around eight. (Eight! That’s Boy 1’s age now. Well, balls... Getting old indeed.) I believe the big reveal upset me for a few minutes but already conditioned toward materialism (thanks, America!) I reasoned that, hell, I’d still be getting presents, so I don’t think I really cared whether they came from Mom, Dad, Uncle Charlie (who I’m pretty sure once stole a trampoline before gifting it to me) or an old, fat stranger in a furry red suit who likes to have little children sit in his lap. I was skeptical – maybe my friends lied to me. After all, this was the same brother/sister combo that once had me convinced that the oil I spotted floating atop the drink they’d made for me was perfectly normal for “Swedish chocolate milk.” (Looking back, the accompanying smell of vinegar should have been a dead giveaway. Tasted like shit but I’m sure it built character. Appreciate that, S&T!) But alas, as I gave my dad a goodnight hug on Christmas Eve, 1987, there sat the Nintendo I’d be receiving the next morning, in his closet behind him. When I found it, unwrapped, as was Santa’s style, at the foot of the tree, the bullshit meter exploded but I wouldn’t let it get me down. Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out and Super Mario Brothers (and Duck Hunt, if only so we'd all learn about tagalongs at an early age) awaited! I was smart enough to know that I didn’t want to deal with upsetting my mom so I didn’t let on that I knew that Santa was Keyzer Soze (or Verbal Kint? Sometimes my metaphors don’t work.) I think I hid that from her for at least two years. Point is, I guess I fear these kids of mine finding out we’re all the masterminds behind some pretty serious fabrications. What sort of example does that set? But mostly, it’s about the growing-up-too-fast thing. I mean, fuck. I’m 37, somehow. Oh and the other point is, how did we allow this elf thing to get so popular? We had friggin' Santa already! And wasn’t one lie enough? I’m tired. 16 days.

Vol 8:

Turnabout is fair play. Boy 2 had something of a rough day yesterday, although not in the sense that his behavior was unacceptable. With the added pressure of a snitch like the elf-demon watching over you at all times, I'm sure being a 6-year-old isn't as easy as it could be at this time of year so, when the boy wonder seemed exceptionally emotional, I should have known to chalk it up to just that. After eight straight days of "being on 'Good Citizen'" at school, the littlest Jordan was proud to announce that he had recorded No. 9 in a row. How about that? My own little Cal Ripken-type thing. But after dinner, the tiny tough guy started showing his sensitive side (a trait shared by his father - but don't tell anyone.) Seeking either a goalkeeper for his soccer game, an opponent in marbles or a playmate of any sort, he solicited the services of all of Boy 1, myself and the lady of the house, though we all politely declined, citing a collective desire to relax and/or consume the programming of WWE Network before bedtime. (The latter, of course, forced upon Mrs. Jordan, although I think she enjoys it at least a little, though she would never, ever admit as much.) His emotions played out with faulty reasoning - "No one likes me!" - and harsh accusations - "I don't have a nice family!" and "Nobody is being my friend!" My explanation was simple; that declining an invitation to any particular activity does not automatically disqualify one from being another's friend, since free will is an important quality and, if I asked a friend of mine to eat dog poop with me, their lack of participation would not stand in the way of my assessment of their loyalty toward me. But Boy 2 was not having any of this and in a brief fit of rage, he roared at me, "You better watch your attitude, Mister, or I'm telling Hermie!" Oh, did I laugh! But he did not appreciate that either and retired to his room. Confession time came quickly. As I laid with him to coax him to sleep - the sleep that, remember, he swears he never gets in favor of only "relaxing" - he exclaimed, "I'm a bad boy!" and began crying immediately. At first, he would not tell me why he had come to this conclusion but after some leveling with him in the form of a promise not to get mad, he told me he had lied and that he had not, in fact, achieved a ninth straight day of school-bestowed "good citizenship." Instead, he was stuck on "Ready to Learn," which is quite fine in this house, although anything less will need to be addressed. I blamed the elf. For the boy was convinced that he needed to be stellar each and every day without fail, whereas on most days, outside of this window of watching from on high (and by on high, I mean somewhere high enough so as not to tempt the "illegal" touching) he, like his father, would be just fine in the realm of acceptable mediocrity. Never again will I utter the words, "I'm telling Hermie." At this point, 1) I hate the name. The kids named him, after that failure of an elf from the original Rudolph special, now a dentist, or so we're told. (Probably one of those creepy dentists, I'd say. You know, the kind that gasses his female patients and plays peekaboo and stuff?) 2) The kids know the (completely fabricated) score. I will not add to this charade more than I already have. And I will not go gentle into this good night. The company Christmas party awaits and I've got some tomfoolery in which to partake. Still tired. 15 days.

Vol 9 and 10:

They sell both volumes of Kill Bill together now, as I understand it, so I’m allowed to drop a double dose of Elfdom if I want to. (This will be of no additional length, mind you, but we’ll call it two volumes nonetheless.) The uptick in emotion from Friday still fresh in my mind, the idea this weekend was to restore the spirits of Boy 1 and Boy 2 (and mostly the latter) and the elf, for all his faults, appears to be adept at aiding that, so long as the pressure he brings is tempered. I’d like to think that the littlest Jordan is less concerned, having had some weekend time, about trying to be “Good Citizen” levels of perfect than he was during our last volume. Saturday morning, Elfenstein, which is one of many names I am considering for a possible rebranding, took a ringside seat next to Boy 1’s toy wrestling ring, watching what was staged as a battle royal between all of his favorite toy wrestlers. Adorning the garb of a particular favorite, Samoa Joe, along with the NXT championship belt, he sat, smiling his usual satanic smile, as if to say that he was some sort of champion himself. You are not, sir, by any stretch. Let me make that clear. But, they enjoy your company, again, despite your many shortcomings. The wrestling set-up reminded me, however, that I would enjoy squaring off against you, were you of an acceptable size to do so, and perhaps if I can find someone of a similar appearance in human form, elbows will drop (and he shall fall.) Of course, then, I’d likely be arrested and/or sued but hey, that’s the cost of doing business, I suppose. This scene, like so many others featuring you-know-who, turned out to be less than perfect, largely because I set him up too low to the ground to be completely ignored or out-of-reach, but this turned out to be a positive step for the children, who resisted the temptation to move him themselves and asked for assistance when he flopped over at one point. Boy 1 wanted the championship belt the evil elf had been wearing, you see, and I was happy to strip it from him, since he did not deserve such an accolade by any means. Boy 2, it should be noted, held back his elfly interactions on Saturday. Maybe he was trying to determine just how emotionally invested in this thing he really should be. Saturday evening brought forth the annual company Christmas party and since the lady and I do not often stay out past 11 pm, let alone 2 am, anymore, it is no wonder that the Hermie the Hack almost did not get moved that night. Of course, I had every intention, and though my return home (thanks, Uber!) involved a certain level of whiskey breath as I spoke directly with my mother-in-law about plans for said move, in the fleeting seconds following that conversation, I forgot completely, probably focused on the pillows calling my name just a few feet away. Ever-clutch, Gran chipped in and relocated the impetuous imp, placing his (fake) happy little ass in the middle of a wreath on the door to the laundry room. Last night, as I stared at him, I honestly thought to myself, “You know, elf, you look like a real asshole sitting there smiling at me with your hands folded. I’d like to spear you with one of the skewers I use to make kebobs from time to time. Or drop you into a vat of bleach. Or something... Keep looking at me like that! Go ahead!” He was just lucky that there was no whiskey for a second consecutive evening. Of course, there can be no whiskey on consecutive evenings for yours truly anymore. Such is the penance that comes with age. Well, that and a vile attitude toward all things festive, it seems. Or at least all things purportedly festive that are nothing more than some sort of fabric, a little plastic and stuffed with cotton (or is it demon fiber?) 13 days. Unlucky 13, the elf might say, but we’ll see how lucky he is when I practice punting him later on today...

Vol 11:

The easy way seems like the right move at the moment. From one stocking (with Spider-Man) to another (with Ultron) - specifically recognizing each boy's individual preference for good guys vs. bad guys, we've killed two days and two potentially grief-inducing moments. But hark! There are three more stockings! That could very well be three more days. Lady Jordan would love to see the imp intruder in her stocking, along with, say, vodka? Yeah, she likes vodka. And Superdog would dig it if he were to show up in hers next to, ah yes! Something she always begs me for - leftover pizza! Perfect! As for me, well, this isn't really about me but if I'm to tend to this shithead as much as I do, why not treat myself and set the stage for him to gift me some Johnny Walker Blue? Mmmmm. We're already down to 12 days and if I can pull this off, we're into the single digits with plenty of creativity left in the reserve tank. Note to self: Boy 1 is looking more and more suspicious by the day. He is wise indeed. Perhaps it is time to distract him with fear and confusion. Would he believe the Russians hacked his elementary school, forcing an uptick in homework? That seems to be a popular play these days and it just might work. Operation: Borscht shall commence in the am. And looky, looky! It's now midnight! 11 days, just like that! We can do this. Ohhhhh, yes. We shall overcome.

Vol 12:

Rats once spread the Bubonic Plague. Prince Prospero's hubris allowed the Red Death to infiltrate his castellated abbeys, according to E.A. Poe. And I say these little elves carry their own special pandemic - a yuletide malady that flips the universe onto its head and turns otherwise relatively well-behaved children into distracted, exhausted malcontents, spewing tidings of discomfort and misery on adults the world over. It makes no sense. At a time when conventional wisdom would dictate that they walk the straight and narrow like never before, the little ones have truly gone mad. Under the watchful eye of the hellion in the red hat, I always expect that Boy 1 and Boy 2 would adopt model citizenship - and for small spurts, they do. For instance, Boy 1's cleaning dog poop from the backyard last Sunday was completely out of character and Boy 2's strong run of eight consecutive "good citizen" statuses (already chronicled in a previous volume, as well as his subsequent fall from grace) was quite a feat! (Suddenly, I'm reminded that I did not ask for details on the dog doo cleaning duty - nor can I say for sure if they showered that night... Nonetheless, the past is the past.) But these exceptions have not become the rule. instead... It took 47 utterances of the elder Jordan child's name tonight just to get him to come to the table to do his homework, when normally, it would only take 3-5. And that was just the beginning of the battle. "Math with Mom" may sound like a fun game show of sorts but in reality, it's quite torturous. Eating dinner in short order once that was finally complete, a necessary rush on an evening when baseball practice beckons, drew moans and whines and pouts and eventually, claims of complete disinterest in our national pastime - a sin, certainly, but more importantly, a lie, as proven instantly upon arriving at the field, where free-spirited fun commenced. (I noticed there, too, that it is not just my own children who have figuratively tooted the Christmas cocaine of late. Everyone's offspring is mental at the moment, it appears. We're all in this together, people.) As for Boy 2, well, that run of eight straight school days by which he was judged all chivalrous and what not has been followed by quite the struggle. Warnings and consequences and nastygrams from the teacher are the new trend. (Note to Teacher: I feel ya, girl. I mean, I ain't never did kindergarten and shit but I did teach at muthafuckin' Hillsborough High School for a hot minute. And you trippin' if you think students clownin' in December is only for the jits. Teenage fools be whack AF.) But we have reached the magic number of 10 and with that, I see the light. Alas, I am stupid enough to crank this sonofabitch waaaaaaaaaay past 10 on the Holly-Jolly-Christmas-o-Meter tomorrow night, as we venture to what some might call the happiest place on Earth (whereas I call it, "Whythehellcan'twedrinkhereagainland") for Mickey's Very Merry Christmas Party. We'll see how very merry it is this time, kids. Just keep up the shenanigans and maybe I'll tell you the story of the crazy Christmas kid who got left with the elephants on the Jungle Cruise back in 1984. Look for him, Reggie, I think... Yeah, he's in there, somewhere. Keep looking... Ah, but that's tomorrow night... Tonight, I'll resist the urge to send the elf into the garbage can, no matter how easy to pull off the narrative of "Hey, kids. Yeah, sorry... He must have really wanted that last piece of chocolate," might be. Single digits are afoot!

Vol 13:

As if Christmas madness wasn't already enough to make even the most level-headed parents consider sending their normally well-adjusted children to some sort of juvenile rehab, we went and introduced the idea of this all-powerful elf and sent things into hyperdrive. And then you have idiots like myself, who facilitate the special kind of speedball that is Christmas and Disney World to launch the youngsters into a stratosphere of holiday intoxication that would appeal to Belushi- and Farley-types the world over. I've spent enough time at the House of Mouse in the last seven years or so to know that on any random Tuesday, you can do some serious people-watching but on a designated Friday night in December, at something they jam down your throat as a "Very Merry" Christmas party, young bucks and grandmas alike are off the rails right from the jump. It's marketing, I get it, but shouldn't it be up to me to decide how to describe the levels of joy and/or merriment I get from a party to which I'm invited (and certainly one I've paid for?) I'm not going to throw a pool party in a couple of months, invite a bunch of you people, and call it "Jon's Super Enjoyable and Relaxing Pool Party." I might assist in the temporary adjustments of your dopamine and serotonin levels as best I can but I'll leave it up to you to determine what sort of accolades you bestow upon my event. Anyway, free from the eyes of the elf (theoretically, anyway) the children were a bit wild on the journey to WDW but I've found that any car ride longer than 20 minutes or so has the potential to become the clearest manifestation of their best friends/worst enemies style of relationship at this phase of their lives. One minute, they're sharing books and the next, someone's finger is in someone else's eye. I tried my best to sing Christmas songs to myself (no, really, I do try to get into it here and there) but my soul-soothing would have to come in the form of a bunch of junk food at the park and a ride or two. The kids had free reign to try and off each other in the interim. As evenings go, one could really do far worse, honestly. As I've said a million times, it would be tremendous if adults could wander around the Magic Kingdom with a beer but I get it. It's a kids' park. And I suppose that isn't appropriate EVERYWHERE, after all. Plus, there are fleeting moments on these nights that we just aren't going to get anywhere else - like Boy 2 cuddling with his mom or Boy 1 beaming from the front row of a parade route or both of them, giggling with laughter (and maybe a little hint of fear) as we whirl around on some roller coaster or other. Those are sights and sounds I'm tattooing into my brain for sure. But by the time it's all over, we have reached full-fledged juvenile Christmas drunkenness, where, just like your overserved adult friend, conversations ramble on making very little sense, emotions are high and the expression of as much can go from "I love yous" to crying in an instant. There is slurring, overindulgence on late night snacks and then, ultimately, they just pass out. And while one big difference between your friend, Drunky the Bear, and your overtired, cranky Christmas kid is that you usually don't have to worry about the latter throwing up, another is that you can't just leave them where they fall out. So, in my case, you're forced to scoop and carry the now 70-ish pound, increasingly long 8-year-old for miles into boats and trams and finally to the car. While waiting for said tram, I surveyed my surrounding area and confirmed my suspicions that, yes, out of the 500 or so people I could see in my immediate vicinity, Boy 1 was definitely the biggest human sleeping in another human’s arms at that point. But again... Special moments, I suppose, if I'm being honest. (And honestly, between that and multiple shoulder hoistings throughout the evening, holy shit is my back messed up! Thanks again, lady who rear-ended me a few years back to kickstart that now-lifelong pleasantry.) As for the elf, the vile, heinous, intrusive being that he is, he's joined forces with an Angry Bird and Sven from Frozen, and has taken up residence in the boys' bathroom - which is definitely a little weird and creepy, now that I re-think my most recent placement strategy but hey, can't touch him again until tomorrow now. And besides, weird and creepy suits him just fine. ONE WEEK.

Vol 14:

Creativity has ceased. There are no more ideas. The focus has shifted, solely, to survival. Christmas intoxication has run amok and both children are perpetually drunk in turn. I have not yet found the proper means to detox them, although I believe, once that bag of chocolate-covered pretzels was stolen and consumed, only time was to be my ally. Boy 2 turned emotional once more last night, expressing his desire to "go home." Since he was sitting in his bed as he proclaimed this, a deeper inquiry revealed that he wanted to go back to our old house, which we left roughly 18 months ago, because he missed his friends. Total bullhonk, of course, since he couldn't identify a single "friend" by name, other than the old neighbor's dog, aptly named Jordan, which weakens his argument even further. Boy 1 arose at 6 am today, reportedly uttering some nonsense about starting a band. (I cannot confirm this directly, as I was in the midst of a dream starring myself, Wolf Blitzer and Jennifer Lawrence, all scouring the planet for "the lost relics." But the reporting of my wife person is to be trusted, more often than not.) His level of Yuletide inebriation has manifested itself in a phenomenon known as "Low Eyes Syndrome" and whether you choose to admit it or not, you've all been there. Just look through photos in which you've been tagged by others - specifically anything after midnight, at weddings or taken by your most obnoxious friends. On the positive side, we've reached the 5-day mark and are just two days shy of relocating this clan to the other coast, where the grandparent folks can assist in keeping us all alive. The inherent danger of said grandparent folks inadvertently contributing to Christmas chaos matters not, for there is strength in numbers and reinforcements at this point are sorely needed. The elf is spooning with a San Francisco 49ers Christmas ornament today and I think I will say no more to that end. "Take a look around here, Ellen. We're at the threshold of hell!" - Clark W. Griswold, Jr.

Vol 15:

The day is nigh. The elf has been bagged in preparation for the cross-state trek. Part of me wanted that to happen legit abduction-style - little potato sack thrown over his head, a swat of a tiny baseball bat to the dome... A garrote, probably, would have been overkill but I wouldn't have ruled it out. Anyway, he's MIA - and of course, that means we'll have to lie to the children once more as to why he's disappeared. "I don't know, kids. I walked around the corner and he just wasn't there anymore!" Then, tomorrow morning when he shows up at La Casa de Jordan 1.0, I'll be ogling Boy 1 to see if there is any further hint of suspicion in his eye. Surely, Boy 2 will wake up some time between 3 and 5 am tomorrow as the excitement percolates. (I will not.) There will be no attempts to peer deeply into his eyes, mostly out of fear that they've turned black by now, undoubtedly the evildoing of you-know-who. The good news is that I believe all is reparable, once he is gone for good - or at least until next year. In my experience, Christmasitis usually takes a couple of weeks to fade away and then some semblance of normalcy returns. This year, I'm hoping that comes with a newfound affinity for sleeping in. I was never very good at that as a young kid and didn't master it until college, really - an achievement aided at that time by, well, let's just call them PEDs. But I know it is possible for even an 8-year-old to sleep until 9, 10 or 11, even, because I saw my pal Jeremy do it with my own eyes. Sleeping over at his house was great the night before amidst our usual hijinks but I could only describe the following mornings as, uh, educational, as in I seized the opportunity to read every single book on his bookshelf and watch every movie he owned, killing time until he finally woke up. (What the hell were my parents doing anyway, that they couldn't pick me up early, as I often asked? Actually... Don't answer that.) So, again, the hope is that Boy 1 takes after Uncle Berm and learns to hibernate (at least a little.) There is no hope for the other one to that end. He continues to remind us that he never sleeps and only relaxes. "Sometimes," he says, "I don't mean to but I accidentally go to sleep automatically." Clearly, he isn't to be trusted with this intentionally perplexing narrative of his but I believe he has convinced himself that it is all true. That, in and of itself, surely leads to the unique circadian rhythm he's adopted. He sure is cute, though. I imagine that'll keep earning him a pass, no matter how many times he fires a soccer ball directly into my nether regions. Perhaps only one or two more entries into these chronicles shall be necessary from this point forward. I should say that I'm pleased with the response so far, as it seems most of the free world can relate in one way or another, but the goal from the beginning was simply to document the daily deeds of our ignominious, inanimate, annual invader and their impact on our everyday lives. Plus, if I should meet my demise during his stay, surely this will aid law enforcement officials. As far as that goes, one only needs to buy one vowel to solve this puzzle, and that is the "E" to kick off "E.L.F." You see, although we are still in the pre-Christmas phase of my intensive study, I have learned enough to commit to the conclusion that it is indeed an acronym, standing for Evil Little Fucker, as some of you may have already ascertained. It is but one piece but a vital one indeed. I've got you now, you hellion. It is only a matter of time. Deportation is but three days away!

Vol 16:

He is everywhere and he takes on many forms. The shape-shifting shithead has obviously meandered about my home for weeks but also invaded my tree, in the form of a Christmas ornament, and now, as I've taken up temporary residence at my parents' house, he is present as a children's nightlight in the bathroom, staring, peering, judging as people partake in their most private and personal moments. He truly is a sick sonofabitch. He is also in my brain at this point, as evidenced by the masterful mindfuck he pulled on me on Thursday evening. I am a man of many talents but perhaps my most important task as the husband, father and clearly established second-in-command of our family is to handle all packing duties for out-of-town adventures. At Christmastime, this can get tricky, what with an overabundance of presents to account for, in addition to our regular haul. But, always up to the challenge, I gathered up all of the important items and successfully played the game of Tetris that is fitting all of them into the dadmobile, née Honda Pilot. All of them, you see, except for my own suitcase, left perfectly packed and wide open on my bedroom floor, only to be revealed at the most impactful moment from a psychological perspective, as we crossed the Brevard County line, all according to "Its" diabolical plan. I have no clothes. I have no toiletries. As a broken man at this point, I also have no soul. And now I seek redemption. A Christmas angel has aided my efforts to thwart this hostile takeover and my suitcase has been successfully recovered, here, two days later, so brushing my teeth and replacing the loin cloth I've adopted in the interim is but hours away. But the damage has been done. The little fucker has clearly won a round. His reign of terror ends for the season after tomorrow but does that give me time to recover my soul before he is banished once more? Clearly, his excommunication is more important than my return to human form so if sacrifice is required, I must remain committed to the cause. In the event of Christmas catastrophe, I offer warmest regards and eternal gratitude to all that have followed these chronicles. As I forge forward, know that I am acting not on my own behalf but for all that is good in this world. The final showdown is nearly upon us and with any luck - and the guidance of Lord Zeus, Ra the sun god, sweet baby Jesus, John Cougar, John Deere and John 3:16 - when it's all said and done, I aim to look the elf straight in the eye and tell him what a cheap, lying, no good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where's the Tylenol?

Vol 17:

It is all over. Since I am writing this, it needs not be clarified that the side of righteousness prevailed in the end but this was not always a foregone conclusion. The red devil was a formidable foe and I can say with near-certainty that we will do battle at least once more, as Boy 1 and Boy 2 will probably still be buying what he's selling. It cannot go undocumented that Hermie took one last pound of flesh as he exited, to the tune of me waking up in a panic at 5 am to remove him from sight and complete this festive ruse. Just as he had on Day 1 this year, he ruined my slumber and that cheeky little smile stretched ever so slightly. It did feel good, under the cover of darkness, to jam the little prick into my suitcase pocket and zip it up. I hope it's hot in your own personal hell, you heathen. And now, we pick up the pieces. I am in need of repair, inside and out. Tired, tattered, full of torment... But mostly tired. Is there no vacation from Christmas vacation? It's become clear to me that, despite my ultimate victory, this experience will haunt me for years to come. And in ensuing years, likely, it will be worse. So, when is a win actually a loss? Perhaps it is now. Perhaps it is more than just a pound of flesh the evil elf has taken with him. There is, it turns out, slight discomfort in my liver area, you see. That's either from the traditional holiday excess or, if you believe the ancient Navajo legend, that's where the soul is located and clearly, mine is gone. Back to our happy little lives? Sure - I can play that game. It is a beautiful existence. But he has broken me indeed. "And Darkness and Decay and The Red Death held illimitable dominion over all."