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lovelystarlings · 3 years

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Chapter Five - Neville’s Very Clumsy

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The next morning was, eventful, to say the least. Camille had always been an early riser, her parents had insisted on her and sisters waking up at 5 am on the dot every morning, they had said it was to prepare them for when they themselves had families to wake up for but Camille knew it was just to torture them more then her parents already did. So when she woke up the next morning, wrapped in the velvety covers that they were provided, she felt a sense of tranquillity wash over her. There was no nagging mum leaning over her, no crying Gabrielle in the bed next to her and no annoying perfect Fleur singing in the shower for everyone to hear. It was quiet.

Just how she liked it.

Spinning her legs over the edge carefully, trying not to wake up the sleeping Hermione next to her, Camille walked over to the bathroom door that was left open on the opposite side of the strangely large dormitory.

Picking up her uniform on the way, Camille entered the bathroom quietly, looking around in awe at the extravagant manner of the simple room. On the wall facing the door stood four separate sinks, each having a mirror on the wall above and a small chest of drawers underneath them. Seeing as no one had claimed one yet, Camille chose the one closest to the shower, for once getting first choice of something. Placing her wash bag next to the sink, she carefully hung her uniform over the railing by the shower, not wanting to crease it straight away.

Grabbing her hairbrush out of her bag, she began to run it through her hair gently. Having slept with it in plaits had done her a huge favour, the usual straight and thick mess had been tamed into ringlets that now sat elegantly on her shoulders. Pinning her hair back with a clip, leaving the bottom layer down, Camille felt at peace with how she looked today. Sure, she wasn't as beautiful, after all she was only young, but she wasn't necessarily ugly (dear god did she hate that word), and that was enough.

Hearing movement from the room next her, and the familiarity of the other girls voices, she quickly pulled her shirt over her head and her skirt quickly over her hips, Camille turned to the door smiling at Hermione, who seemed shocked that someone was up before her.

"How are you up so early?" She spoke, her hand running through the bundle of curls that sat on top of her head. She walked over to the sink beside the French girl, placing her own stuff down gently.

"You know what they say," spoke Camille, brushing past Hermione with a smirk. "The early bird gets the worm."

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. It also didn't help that Camille knew where none of her classes were. And neither did Hermione, Or Ron. Or Harry.

Though after fumbling about the school for a long time they had managed to find most of their classes. And Camille had discovered a lot about her teachers.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Camille had noticed that Neville particularly enjoyed this one.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up, which didn't help Camille in the slightest considering she had no idea who either of them were.

Professor McGonagall had to be Camille's favourite, however. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione and Camille had made any difference to their match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione and Camille a rare smile, both girls giving each other a proud look as they linked arms and skipped off to the next lesson , leaving the boys and their matches far behind.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. Camille vaguely remembered her father telling Fleur (and Fleur told her) about an encounter he had with a vampire once, a very lovely vampire he had told her. His name was Carlisle, and he was a doctor. Camille had been shocked that a vampire could be a doctor, but her father had never lied to Fleur once.

Professor Quirrell's turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story.

For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. Camille had befriended the Weasley Twins then and there, she thought they were charming and funny, and rather attractive if she was honest. They could well be veela, she thought, despite knowing that they were pure blood. She wondered what their mother and father looked like.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder there than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Camille and Hermione had been lucky enough to grab seats at the front, neither girls wanting to miss a thing. However, if Camille had known who their Professor was, she would've sat at the back, or even better out of the classroom.

His name was Professor Snape, and he was a tall man, who always seemed to be dressed in a black coat that billowed behind him like the wind itself followed him. His hair was pitch black and greasy, like it hadn't been watched in months, years even.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word, Hermione scribbling down most of it, the sound of her quill annoying Camille slightly, though she didn't say anything. She'd hate to insult the girl. Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sit," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. Camille heard a loud noise behind her, and turned round to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, shaking with laughter, and she had to hide a snicker herself. The three looked like utter pillocks.

"I don't know, sir."

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling, despite Camille's attempts to calm her down, not wanting her friend to embarrass herself more than she had. She had the feeling someone was gonna snap, whether it be Harry or Snape.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Camille laughed harmoniously at the sass Harry held in his voice, drawing the attention of the class to her. She had forgotten that most of them had probably never heard veela laugh before, and hers probably had a strange effect on the bunch, considering the majority of them were pre-pubescent teenage boys.

"Sorry," she squeaked, and slumped down in her chair. Hermione patting her head patronisingly. Though she too felt strange at the heavenly sound that had escaped the French girl's mouth.

"Sit down and be quiet," he snapped at Camille. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment, though Camille had already been making her notes during the commotion. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." Idiote, thought Camille. The poor boy had been living with muggles his whole life, how could Snape thing he'd know the simplest thing about potions. Idiote, she repeated.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy and Camille who had been paired with the blonde boy, the only two whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes.

Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs. Camille flinched, seeing the hurt look on the poor boy's face, unlike Malfoy, or rather Draco as he had asked her to call him, who had laughed.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

Camille and Hermione left the dungeon as soon as they could, both wanting to avoid the catastrophe of cleaning up the spilled potion.

#harry #harry potter #harry potter x reader #hermione #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #fluff #hogwarts #veela #fleur delacour

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

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Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.63

Lance nearly turned back to Platt twice, and he was pretty sure he would have had Allura not come with him for the day trip home. He was taking Blue home ahead of returning on the weekend. His precious princess curled up in Allura’s lap, after working her way out of her carrier. Filling up at Balmeria, he was relieved to see Rax working rather than Shay. He didn’t want to put Shay in any kind of awkward position with Hunk, nor did he know how to explain his absence to her. Allura was trying her best to keep his spirits up, pointing out various things as they drove, or singing the words wrong to the songs on the radio. Lance nearly felt as nervous as he did the first time he drove out to see the house he’d call home.

Parking in the drive, Matt and Rieva couldn’t help messing with him. He’d barely cut the ignition and climbed out the car before the pair of werewolves were bounding out the house, knocking him down and dragging” him by the hem of his jeans towards the front steps

“Really? Out of every single way you could have greeted me, this was your best idea? You two are lame”

There was more laughter in his tone than he’d intended. Matt and Rieva both letting go of his jeans in favour of body flopping on top of him. The offensive smell of wolf not nearly as offensive when he felt they’d actually missed him

“Oh, no. Lance, I’m afraid I’m going to have to tell Keith your cheating on him. Look at you”

Allura giggled, raising her hand to cover her mouth. Blue taking he opportunity to jump and run away towards the open door. His princess didn’t have time for such “goings on”

“I love how you rush to help”

“Who you end up under is completely up to you”

“You wouldn’t think so. Now, will you two get off? The gravel’s itchy”

Matt and Rieva turned back, Lance covering his eyes

“Guys! Clothes!”

Matt didn’t care

“You know you love it. What’s not to love?”

“Your ugly arse junk forever imprinted in my head?”

“Here how he talks to us?! Blah. Keith can have you if you’re going to be like that”

“He did and he has and he will. Now go get dressed!”

Waiting until Matt and Rieva moved away, Lance uncovered his eyes to find Allura staring down at him

“Need a hand?”

“I wouldn’t say no. Remind me again why I decided coming back was a good idea?”

“I’m still not quite sure myself. They seemed to have missed you”

Allura helped him up, Lance then brushing the loose gravel off his body

“They’re a menace! Matt needs to be neutered! I hope you hear that!”

“Oh dear. I don’t think he’ll take that well”

From inside came a yelled “Fuck you!”

“He didn’t. He’s just lucky I haven’t taken his mangy arse to the vet yet. Then again, he’d probably like a thermometer stuck up his arse”

Looping her arm through his, Allura was still giggly

“I’ve never neutered a werewolf before. Coran may have. Perhaps we should enquire when we return?”

“Yep. And I want tracking collars for the pair of them. I’m surprised they didn’t graffiti the town sign and edit the population to say “plus one vampire”. He’s as bad as Pidge. No. He’s worse. He should know better by now”

“You know, I’m sure we could change that sign if you really wanted?”

“I think I’ve caused the town enough dramas. Let’s head in. I bet my poor house needs therapy. Is that a thing? A house needing therapy?”

“I don’t see why not? Though that would mean discussing what you and Keith have been up to here”

Lance pulled a face

“Why do you do this to me? You know I miss him as it is”

“I do. He really is very fond of you. I’m sure you moving back here will leave him missing you even more”

“You know we talked about it. I’m not hunter material”

“I don’t know. I think you’d make an excellent hunter. You’re very perceptive and very kind”

“If you ask Keith, I’m kind of an idiot”

“Yes, well... You do have your moments”

Lance gaped at Allura, Allura giggling again. Sighing dramatically, he started leading her towards the house. Why did everyone he knew have to be so weird? And why was if after all the years that he finally not keeping his walls so high was giving him everything he ever needed? Maybe because now he had a group of friends that were all weird like him, he was starting to see that maybe... just maybe... he liked himself more than he thought... and maybe he liked company more than he thought too.

Inside the house wasn’t the mess he’d expected. It smelt heavily of horny wolf, but everything seemed in order as he flopped down on his sofa. It smelt suspiciously clean... Like Rieva and Matt had cleaned it knowing he’d smell more than he was suppose to. Walking into the room, Matt ignored the perfectly open seats in favour of sitting right next to him. Normally he would have headed straight to the kitchen to make tea for Allura, but he had a finite amount of courage to work with. Shoving Matt away from him, Matt laughed

“I know you missed us. Curtis told me all about the talk you had with him”

“Curtis is cursed. It’s rude to use that against him”

Matt shrugged

“A man’s gotta do, what a man’s gotta do”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

“Pretty good”

“Oh, so you have a brilliant plan to make Pidge loves us again?”

Matt groaned, flopping sideways on the sofa

“No. She’s totally holed up. Hunk isn’t even talking to me. I think she’s making boards about us”

Lance flopped against Matt, sighing as he did

“That sounds like her. I miss our gremlin”

“I know. I have no one to play video games with anymore. What’s the point of having all these wolf powers if I can’t cheat in video games”

“What’s the point of being immortal if my second family hates me?”

“I don’t hate you, bro”

“I don’t hate you either”

Very awkwardly they fist bumped before both of them sighed.

Allura stood, hands on her hips, staring down the pair of them

“I’m ashamed of the pair of you right now. Have you tried talking to Pidge?”

“She’s ignoring us”

Matt replied, Lance nodded

“Then make it so she can’t”

Geez. Why hadn’t they thought of that?

“This isn’t a movie. We can’t just show up outside her house with a boom box and win her back”

Matt snorted

“Dude, you’re so fucking old”

“Shut up. You’re nearly as old”

“Oh, says Mister ‘70s over here”

He didn’t ask to be this old. He didn’t even know how he got to be this old. One moment he was 20, stumbling through life. Next moment he was 44, stumbling through life and now figuring out dating

“You got the reference! Dude, you’re her biological brother”

“She told mum to tell me we weren’t talking. Mum said she was worried about our influence on her”

Pidge was fierce . Colleen was ruthless

“Your mother scares me”

“Try being her son“

Allura clapped her hands, drawing attention back to her

“Will you two please get over yourselves. Pidge is a human in possession of information she is ill equipped to deal with. Now, Lance, if Keith were to stop talking to you, how would you reconnect?”

“He’s probably turn into a bat then go bury himself”

He didn’t know, but if Keith stopped talking to him, Matt was most likely right about what would come next

“Pretty much”

Allura sighed at the pair of them

“You’re not helping by joking”

“Matt’s right. I get emotional and then I’m a bat. Keith keeps me grounded. I’ve gotten better at not being a bat”

“Dude. You were so much cooler as a bat”

Lance huffed

“Says you. Keith says too, actually”

“Maybe you could turn into a bat and I could post you to Pidge?”

Now Matt was being ridiculous. They were being ridiculous. Keith suggested going to talk to her instead of relying on Matt, Lance was reaping what he sowed

“And have her experiment on me. No thanks. Allura, I know you want to help, buuuuut maybe we can talk about something else?”

“I’m trying to help”

“I know you are, but Pidge needs space. I’ve told her I’m coming back next week. Why don’t we just hang out today? We can practice hairstyles and do face masks?”

Matt made a a high “ooohing” noise, Lance sitting up, before shoving at him

“Shut up. It’s not like that”

“I didn’t say anything”

“You did. I’ll have you know, I’m going on a mission with Allura”

Matt sat up, expression skeptical

“And what mission is that? To find your balls. Wait, nope, Keith’s got you by them”

He’d rather Keith have them... and that didn’t quite make sense. Matt talking about his balls felt awkward. He wasn’t a smell mutt to be neutered

“I’ll chop yours off. I may or may not have been thinking about this, and having Allura here probably means she’s thinking the same thing and I’m only just putting this together, so thanks for that Allura. Rieva, we have a question for you. Have you ever heard of a vampire named Lotor? Or his family?”

Lance was barely home an hour before driving the four of them back to Platt. Rieva had indeed heard of Lotor, but she’d heard more about Zarkon and Honerva, telling them enough that Lance now knew coming home had been a bad idea, as wherever Lotor went, his mother was sure to have sent someone to watch his every move. Hastily they’d packed, Rieva insisting they weren’t safe in Garrison for the one being. Lance throwing together all his precious belongings, before rounding up Blue who wasn’t impressed at all. Rieva was shaken that Lotor was here, Lance certain there was a more personal reason that she wasn’t telling them. The only thing he could think of was that it somehow related to the death of her biological parents... And if Zarkon and Honerva were involved, he couldn’t fault her for being overly cautious. Matt had messaged Pidge to tell her to stay indoor and stay away from crowds, Lance’s undead heart frozen in fear for her and Hunk, and their families. He’d never wanted them roped into this, and now the whole issue was getting out of control.

Parking where Allura instructed. They entered the bookshop through a side entrance Lance has barely used. Practically sneaking their way through to the elevator to avoid drawing attention to themselves. Rieva didn’t know much about Lotor, not personally, she’d heard the rumours having grown up in Europe. Lotor was the son of a fae gone mad and a vampire who’d been twisted by his ego. Not a great combination for a child during the years of formations of self. Lotor had to know his mother sent someone. Maybe he’d thought he’d slipped them? Or maybe he’d paid them off? Or maybe Honerva wasn’t actually keeping tabs on him. From what Rieva said, she’d been a gifted and amazing scientist, using both magic and science to test human limits... and amazingly okay about sacrificing human pets for her research.

Reaching the reception area beneath ground, a strong weird scent of something unknown hung in the air. Familiar and not. And not completely unwelcoming. The scent making his teeth and nails ache, as suddenly he was falling onto his hands and knees, body screaming at him something he couldn’t decipher. Opening his mouth, nothing came out. Heat flushing through his body as his arms gave out and the world became so much bigger than it had been. Whatever the fuck was happening now, he didn’t like it...

Matt grabbed him by the collar, Lance finding himself pulled to his feet too fast. Covering his mouth to prevent himself from throwing up, he swallowed hard. That’d never happened. 44 years and he’d never felt like he had right then

“Fucking shitty vampire scents. What the hell, dude?”

That was vampire. Sniffing again, his stomach rolled. Submit. God. That’s what that feeling was. His body wanted to submit to something. Heat beginning to boil in his belly... no... not here... not here and not now...

“Matt, let him go. Lance... you’re okay. Allura, I’ll take him to his room. Lance, is there anything I can get you?”

“Curtis...”

Curtis’s name came out pained and strangled. Curtis could handle his bouts of heat... Rieva might have offered to take him to his room, but he wasn’t safe with her. He wasn’t safe because his body wasn’t listening. He didn’t... Grunting as a heat wave slammed into him with enough forced to make his knees buckle, tears came to his eyes. Keith was the one who made him feel like this. Not some random vampire... and Keith didn’t make him feel like he had to get on his hands knees and stick his fucking arse out to be bred like this... well... he did, but not so viciously like his head was behind held down and a heat shoved in every opening

“Okay. Allura call Curtis, then call Keith. We all need to talk, but right now Lance needs his boyfriend”

“Keith and Shiro are out...”

People really needed to stop saying Keith. Horny Lance had little control over all things Lance and what he wanted done to him

“I’m... okay... just... please get Curtis...”

This was mortifying. He was mortified. A single whiff and this happened. Maybe he was off guard? He had to be after what Rieva had and hadn’t said? Honerva was evil. The Blades knew about her and were yet to stop her. If she came here people would start dying at an alarming rate... Oh... god... shoot him now... he could smell horny Matt and dear god... he wanted something in him...

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dailyaudiobible · 3 years

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02/13/2021 DAB Transcript

Ex 35:10-36:38, Matt 27:32-66, Ps 34:1-10, Pr 9:7-8

Today is the 13th day of February welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I'm Brian it's great to be here with you. It's a joy as we bring to a close another one of our weeks together. And they…they just kind of go by don’t they. And like hear we are, like middle of the second month of the year already. Here we are. And that’s just it…that’s just it. That’s how life goes, but it becomes really really apparent as we enter into the rhythm of the Scriptures and continue to absorb them day by day just to mark the time. Here we are the middle of February and it won't be long before we’re saying here we are in the middle of September. So, let's continue to buckle in. Let's continue to really invest our hearts into what the Scriptures are telling us because by the time we get to that time we’re…we’re like, “can you believe it is the middle of September?” We can be different people than we are right now. If we follow this path and we keep on this path day by day step-by-step and not just be hearers but be doers, yeah, by the time we’re saying, can you believe it’s the middle of September allot will have shifted in our lives. And, so, let’s dive in and take the next step for this week, which is the final step of this week. We’re reading from the Christian Standard Bible. Exodus chapter 35 verse 10 through 36 verse 38.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. We thank You for another week to spend together in Your word. And Jesus, we have spent…spent a good portion of this week just…just being in Your last days telling the story of Your last days, Your arrest, the betrayal, the trial and now Your crucifixion, execution unjustly and Your burial. And we can often…we can often zoom to the end of the story. In fact, we do because it's too painful. It...it’s hard to contemplate what happened to You. It's hard to contemplate that it happened on our behalf. It humbles us but we want to move past that to the resurrection and it's important that we that we do but not before we sit with this, that You are our Savior. And we just…we’ve just gone through the whole book of Matthew watching Your ministry unfold, watching the way that You were simply calling the truth out from the shadows and how that riled things up so much, that this…this what we read today, this…this is happening and gives us such a stark glimpse of how dark things can get, of how dark things had gotten, about how dark things have gotten. And, so, we cling to You and we cling with hope. And Yes, we can turn the page, and yes, we can read of the resurrection. But it's important for us to stay here and wait for that as we sit with what it cost to let us be here, so freely reading Your word, and so freely interacting, so freely up moving around. And You died to make us free. And, so, Holy Spirit come. Show us how to meditate upon that today and sit with that we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it's the website, and indeed how to find out what’s going on around here. So, stay connected.

The place to get connection or connected would be the Community section at dailyaudiobible.com or if you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can find the Community section in there. That's where the Prayer Wall lives. I remind us often so that we won't forget. It's…it's also where all the different links to social media channels etc. etc. are. So, check that out and get connected.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well. Thank you so much for your partnership. There’s a link on the homepage. If you're using the app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mail, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app, which is the little red button at the top or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

H DAB family this is Sonya in Austin TX and I'm just calling to…it's February 10th and Brian was talking about wisdom, listening, and taking that heartbeat minute to pause before you speak and my gosh, I wish I would've done that last night. My husband was trying to talk to me, and I opened my mouth and it just became ugly and it shouldn't have been ugly I should have kept my mouth quiet and actually listened. And instead made him feel bad about his job and situation and that of course wasn't my intent, but I seem to sabotage this when he tries to open up to me and I need to be quiet and I need to let wisdom speak. So, just pray for wisdom to enter into me sooner, to kick me, to…to staple my tongue down, be quiet and to listen to my husband in the future. And I do pray that you lift Michael up and help him to get a job where he'll be satisfied. He's working in a school cafeteria and just…he isn't happy and it's not where God wants him to be. And the people he works with are just…they are very nice people but they're not competent. And, so, he's doing three peoples’ jobs and then if something slips by then he's the manager so he's the one who gets in trouble. So, he's constantly having to go back in to do their jobs, simple things like counting and stuff because they're off on their numbers by a lot, not just like one or two, but by like 40. Again, nice people, but just…it's just very hard when you're basically doing everyone's job for them and then you take the blame. And I know there's a job out there that God has for him. So just please…

Hello this is sister Bridget from Northern California and I'm reaching out to my sister Hannah in New Zealand who called in asking for our prayers for her and her family as they grieve the loss of their dad who took his life. And I just want to say I'm so sorry sister Hannah and my heart…I know all our hearts are grieving with you all. And I want you to know that I am praying for you and I want to pray now for you and your family. Heavenly Father I thank You that You know us, You know the depths of our hearts and You…You know the depths of grief. And I want to thank You that You carried them Yourself. So interesting that we heard about You praying in the gardener Gethsemane before Your crucifixion, how You poured out Your heart and the grief and despair You experienced. Lord I thank You that You know that You…You enter in for us and I pray that Hannah and her family can be completely sustained by Your presence. Holy Spirit I ask for Your spirit of comfort and unity to bind them together. I pray that You would illuminate their darkness and help them to see…see Your presence and see You work wonders as You draw their hearts towards…

I am a stay-at-home mum to 3 little babies. The youngest ones nine months old and I'm married to a wonderful man who has who has a serious alcohol problem that's caused a lot of issues in our life, especially as of recently. And I'm just asking for prayer for how to deal with all of it and how to keep myself and keep my peace and how to help him as much as I can. I just need God to give me some peace about it and maybe start moving in his life because he's a good man and I'm not gonna leave him. He's not dangerous, he's just…he's got issues and I just need to know how to help him or I need God to help him. So, if you could pray for that it would mean a lot. Thank you.

Hello family this is Biola from Maryland and I hope you're all doing well. Brian and Jill God bless you. God bless your family and your ministry. Family I've been struck with so many prayer requests a lot of you are calling in and the weight of it all, you know. And I recall the scripture where Jesus was saying in this world you will have trouble but be of good cheer I have overcome the world beard. And...and, you know, sometimes it's it sounds so heavy and it's so witty and oh Lord Jesus I just bring everyone in the Daily Audio Bible family unto you oh God who is going through troubles and tribulations and trials and heaviness. And I just finished listening to you Greg and…and as you broke down and started, you know, asking for prayer and also crying I just…oh my goodness my heart was just gripped. Father Lord I pray that you would step into my brother’s situation oh God and intervene in the name of Jesus. Oh God I pray oh God Lord that you will show yourself strong on behalf of his family, that they will come to know you God Lord his wife oh God and his…his…his children oh God Lord his grandchildren they will come to know you as their Lord of passed down saviors. Hannah from New Zealand as a heard your prayer request too I was so burdened. Oh, father I pray oh God for my sister that you wrap your arms around her and her family members and that you will just heal them and comfort them oh God over the passing of their dad oh God Lord. And I pray for wisdom for them in this situation, that the fights will stop in the name of Jesus. Kingdom Seeker Daniel, I listened to your prayer request and I was just shaking my head and I'm like Oh my goodness. Oh, father Lord I arrest oh God every plan of the devil oh Lord of that family I cancel in the name of…

Good morning Daily Audio Bible community this is Diane Olive Braun an encourager one of many shalom shalom. I am adding my log to the campfire the Global Campfire and today this morning it is 5 minutes to 1:00 in the morning and I read…I listened and while Ezekiel and Ezekiel’s mama Jill together read the story of the betrayal of Jesus. And I'm still in the forgiveness area and how important it is and how hard it is. It must have been hard for Jesus to forgive all of those people that turned against him but if He's my example then I can look at how He had his Last Supper with Judas Iscariot and I think of Corrie Tenbaum, a story that helps me think about forgiveness when she met the…the Nazi soldier that was so mean to her and he stuck his hand out to shake her hand and by her own will she shook his hand and a power went through her hand and her arm…

Good morning my dear baby precious family this is Eyes of a Dove in Snoqualmie WA. It's been a while since I've called in, but I've been in the background listening and praying along with all of you. My dear little sister…oh…I can't remember your name but boy every morning I'm just praying for you. You called in about your mom with the drug addiction and she was blaming you out of her own guilt. You know, when we allow drugs into our lives it stops our brain from maturing and reasoning and our flesh, pride makes it very hard as adults and to turn back and say hey we made mistakes and we're making mistakes. And I want to tell you as a mom of four kids please let me be an example of your mom and tell you sweetie, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I've done drugs. I'm sorry that I am not loving myself the way God wants to love me and choosing not to do those drugs. I'm so sorry that I've hurt you. I’ve made you scared. I made you feel broken and I'm sorry that I haven't been that example of a mom that you need. And I'm going to get better. And Father we lift up this precious little girl’s mummy. Father I ask that You would just begin to bring new life into her, Father that You would make drugs horrible tasting and feeling in her body, that she would have the desire to remove those from her life and to live a God centered life. And Father I pray You humble her and have her come to her daughter at full repentance. Thank You. Thank You for putting her in a home with her auntie an uncle so she can flourish and grow. And just continue to love and grow her in the name of Jesus. Amen. I’m beside you young lady. Keep calling in…

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clinioelerrante · 4 years

Text

A girly chat

Summary:

Ginny and Hermione meet casually in the school halls after curfew. The situation is getting more complicated and. . . some things must be said, once and for all.

The copyrights of the characters belong to their creator J. K. Rowling.

A girly chat

If the renowned Hogwarts School of Magic and Sorcery has a thousand years of tradition, there is possibly another tradition that is even older than Hogwarts. In fact, it is probably as old as it was when the first boarding school that took in teenagers of both sexes for almost a whole year was set up.

Into the shadows, Ginny Weasley carefully scrutinized the last stretch of corridors to the staircase that finally led to the Gryffindor common room. A couple of hours ago the curfew had come into effect and now her only concern was to be able to reach the safety of the common room before some particularly fussy prefect, or worse, a teacher, discovered her returning late to her tower.

She had split up with her boyfriend Dean a while ago after a not too satisfying snogging session and her mood was particularly irritable.

Lately, things between the two of them haven't been working out as they should for a couple of girl and boyfriend. She was aware that there was an imbalance in the relationship. She liked Dean, that was indisputable and she would never have agreed to have a relationship if there was even the slightest interest on her part.

It was one thing to have a very satisfying intense and passionate snogging session in the heat of the moment and quite another to maintain a relationship with another person with nothing more than the purely physical. Not that she was against it. In fact, some of her classmates had that kind of relationship, “a term flirt", they called it. The kind that start a few weeks into the school year and end up back home for the summer holidays with some of the Hogwarts Express carriage suspiciously isolated from the rest with silencing spells, door locks and a few imperturbable ones too. It was simply that this type of relationship was not for her and the point was as time passed, the relationship with Dean seemed to slide dangerously towards that way.

She was fully aware that Dean was the one most emotionally involved in that relationship. In fact, Ginny was beginning to suspect that Dean was genuinely falling in love with her, and while it was true that she was attracted to the bloke, it was even more true that she was nowhere near as attracted to him same way.

To make matters worse, Dean was developing a somewhat overprotective feelings about her and, without intending to, was overwhelming her with all his solicitous displays of attention. She knew that he didn't mean to do it on purpose, but for a country girl who had to deal with six older brothers, two of whom were the biggest and most terrible pranksters in the history of the school, another who had the dubious honour of being the biggest blind stubborn who ever walked the face of the earth, one leading member of Dumbledore’s army, one sneaky fighter in the mystery department and owner of the most terrifying bat-bogey hex known, all those attentions were, to put it mildly, a pain in the ass.

To add to all this the growing, even at the end of February, level of anxiety that every fifth year student experiences as the dates for the OLWs tests approach, the initial appreciation that Ginny's mood was particularly irritable tends to fall short and, if by the hands of the devil, we add as the last ingredient to the potion the Weasley name and its legendary explosive temperament, it is not necessary to have an NEWT in potions to discover that we are faced with the perfect elaboration of the “Weasley Wrath” potion trademark and, only a fool, a suicidal, a desperate person or someone absolutely unaware of the delicate boil that was cooking in the small body of the redhead, would think of taking it out of the pot.

Ginny Weasley wasn't the only one wandering the halls at that hour. Also on the way to the common room, Hermione Granger was returning from one of her lonely prefect patrols. For months now, she had avoided patrolling with the other prefect of Gryffindor, so she simply left the common room early and made an erratic patrol of the castle in a desperate attempt not to find him in her path. If she had met him or anyone else, they would have immediately noticed her swollen eyelids, her red eyes and the soft sob that escaped from her mouth. Normally she would try to hide these already constant features on her face through some make-up, glamorous charms, impeccable uniformity and an apparent indifference to what was going on around her, but today she was too hurt, despondent and tired to realize her real look.

Having spent more than half of her shift in a secluded corner blowing off steam in her crying, all she wanted was to reach the quiet of her bed, cast an imperturbable spell and keep crying until the tiredness overtook her and she fell asleep.

It had been months since Ronald Weasley had started dating Lavender Brown and contrary to what might have been expected, the pain of heartbreak had not diminished one iota, quite the contrary. As the weeks passed, it was manifesting itself in all its majestic and vileness.

It was simply agony!

Her daily routine had become an unconscious attempt to avoid him for any means. Waking up even earlier, skipping meals, going to classroom for unusual routes, prolonging her library study hours beyond what was customary there to her. . . every conceivable means had been used by her to avoid him, but it had not been enough. Somehow, as always with Ron, it was never enough.

She couldn't avoid him completely, whether it was in classroom, in the common room, at her frugal meals or even in the library, where he would go when he had no choice but to complete his schoolwork and even though she tried so hard not to notice him when he was in those risk areas, it was so unlikely that she thought the expression “ignoring the elephant in the room” was an understatement and should be replaced for “ignoring the Ronald in the room”, because a redheaded lighthouse more than six feet high was frankly impressive and even harder to avoid.

To her greatest misery, where her brain was plotting escapes, her treacherous heart longed to see the one responsible for her misery and more than once she surprised herself looking for in the direction she knew the insufferable redhead was. The problem was that usually the image her hungry eyes encountered was not that of a lonely, bucolic Ron pining for her, but of a nasty Ronald Bilius Weasley who seemed to have attached with a permanent Sticking Charm to Lavender Brown's mouth.

Those were the worst times for Hermione, except for the nights when these images of constant kissing were repeated incessantly and while part of she was disgusted and nauseous at such sexual display, it was no less true that another part of she, most of she to be honest, desperately wanted to tear Lavender from her face and transfigure her into a couch on which to throw Ron so that she could measure his tonsils with her own tongue. That was the moment when the tears came to his eyes uncontrollably and the need to take refuge somewhere isolated arose.

So, the lonely prefect rounds were in a way a blessing and a curse.

��Blessing because she was allowed to hide in any of the school's classrooms where she could vent her tears sometimes, sometimes with a brief burst of anger. Curse, because in the lonely rooms of the castle, that was when her brain was at its most tortured and that night, the memories had been particularly painful.

Without pretending to rejoice in her grief, she had gone back in time, remembering the happy moments with Ron, especially after the incident, saved by the skin of her teeth, from the Mystery Department. Even before, she had felt that something was changing in their relationship as friends, as for example, when she discovered that Ron had given her a bottle of perfume, but it had never been so evident until after the disastrous raid that had taken Sirius ´life.

The point was that ever since she woke up with the ugly scar on her chest, she shuddered at the memory, Ron had been with her all the time, comforting her and even, in a moment of weakness she had, making her feel that the imprint had not diminished in any way how beautiful she might look to a man. Quite the opposite. It was proof that she was a brave woman willing to face any manifestation of injustice and evil and if any man was not able to see it, then he would not be worthy of her love.

“If I knew a woman who was willing to fight like that for me. . .“, he had started with a dreamy look, “...I'd be in love with her forever and someday I'd make her my wife“. Causing her to fall on his own arse if she hadn't been lying on one of the beds in the school infirmary wing, at the same time that she becomes a puddle of drool.

She had barely been able to stop herself from grabbing his shirt, drawing him in front of her and facing his eyes, telling him:

There's one who's been fighting for you since the bloody second year and you still haven't noticed, you stupid idiot! and then kissed him like there's no tomorrow.

Instead, she'd babbled something unintelligible, burst into moan, and then she'd taken refuge in his chest and burst into tears.

Great, Hermione! She thought as she banged her head repeatedly against the nearest wall. You had your chance on a silver platter and you chose that moment to show yourself as a weak, crying damsel. You are mum Myrtle pride.

Previous times, during the summer, she had gone to The Burrow like so many others and had to admit that there had been a change in Ron's behaviour. Somehow, he seemed to be more solicitous of her without that meaning the end of his usual discussions. It simply seemed as if it was easier for them to be together without provoking each other for trivial matters, at least until “Fleeeerg" with her stunning beauty and “teggific" accent, made her presence felt in the vicinity, at which point Ron seemed to be slightly dazed and in spite of everything, she had to admit that this daze lasted for only a moment before he pulled himself together. Sometimes Hermione helped him with a particularly hard and cruel slap, on the other hand very satisfying for her, on the back of his neck. Anyway, his reactions to Fleur's presence weren’t more that a brief stunned. Just the opposite to the pitiful sight of the fourth year.

In short, his behaviour in the hospital wing, The Burrow and the first months of the term at Hogwarts did not bode well for what was to come. In fact, she thought they were taking steps in the right direction until after she invited him to Professor Slughorn's party and perhaps that was the final reason she felt so broken. She had been brushing against happiness with her fingertips so close that she could almost feel it and suddenly found herself touching. . . nothingness.

Thus she was immersed in her own reflections and returning to the stairs leading to the Gryffindor Tower when she seemed to perceive the movement of a shadow lurking in the darkness of the corridors.

Surely if she had been sufficiently rested and clear-minded her reaction could have been better, but for someone who is personally, emotionally exhausted, and with Hermione Granger's history of unpleasant encounters, this was perfectly understandable:

“IMPEDIMENTA!”

It had been like suddenly hitting an invisible wall. Convinced that the path between her hiding place and the stairs leading to her target was free of obstacles, she had launched herself into a swift race towards the stairs and, at a stroke, bounced back.

If the initial impact had been brutal, falling to the cold, hard floor of the school in an uncontrolled manner had not been a piece of cake either, but if she had learned anything from her recent fight it was that pain could wait. Because in the time it takes to complain about the wounds, a spell with very, very bad intentions can go after you and that is definitely much worse than the pain itself. So as soon as she had finished bouncing around on the floor of the corridor, she threw herself to the side as she wielded her wand to confront her assailant and found herself facing another wand, behind which were astounded and very familiar brown eyes.

“Her. . . Hermione?”

“Ginny?”

They were both so bewildered that they forgot to lower their respective wands, which continued to point at each other like a mournful omen, until the prefect of Gryffindor surrendered hers while offering her other hand to help the friend with the sore arse.

“For God's sake, Ginny”, she scolded her as he helped her up. “You scared me to death. What are you supposed to be doing at this hour outside your bedroom lurking in the school halls?” She finished.

“Oh! I don't know”, accepting help meanwhile she rubbed her bruised arse with her other hand and giving her friend an unfriendly look, the redhead's response was not long in coming. “Maybe wait until a hot wand witch was encouraged to use me as a target for her shooting practice”, she said sarcastically.

“You know that's not what I'm asking you, Ginny”. Hermione ignored the little voice at the back of her head which told her to answer with the same irony, an instinctive reflex, and the fruit of the continuous and biting training that she practiced daily with the youngest of Ginny’s brothers.

That was before, she corrected herself. We are even talking to each other anymore, she told herself and after all, Ginny was her best friend. The one who had been supporting her in her worst moments making imaginative descriptions of her stupid brother to try and cheer her up.

“Okay, okay. I've been spending some time with Dean”, she explained as she dusted off his uniform. “Far from prying eyes, Hermione. Is that good enough for you, or would you prefer me to give you more details about our business?” She ended up with a smile that had nothing innocent about it.

“Save me the nauseating details please, I have just finished my dinner and I would like to keep it inside my stomach, thank you very much.”

A nasty expression was drawn on her face and the youngest Weasley didn't know for sure if it was more fake than real. What if it was completely real is, that it was the most blatant lie Hermione Granger had ever told her.

“Hermione”. She paused for a brief moment thinking of how to approach the subject. “I didn't actually see you in the big dining room during dinner so, I'm wondering if you had anything to eat?”

“Well. . . er. . . me. Yes”. . . She stuttered. “I was actually late while completing my homework, so when I realized this, I spent a moment in the kitchens while making my rounds.”

“Hermione. . .”

“Giiiinny?”

All right, the gentle approach didn't seem to yield the desired result, so it was time to tighten the screws a bit. Ginny had a genuine concern about Hermione's health. She was aware of how little she ate and of the use of glamorous charms on herself. Not for nothing, she had been her only real friend and confidant.

“Hermione, don't try to hide it”, her voice took on a tone of harshness necessary to provoke her friend reaction. Hermione tended to ignore all the negative things said about her and the requirements that displeased her. That doesn't mean it didn't hurt, like when Draco Malfoy constantly insulted her, but making a habit of it, she tended not to give it much of her attention at the moment.

“It's because of my arse of a brother, isn't it?”

The prefect's expression of pain and the sinking of her shoulders confessed exactly what Ginny had suspected.

“Hermione, this has to stop now”, she continued, looking into her eyes. “He is a perfect prat, we know it but, look at yourself. Your eyes look like they've fallen victim to the conjunctivitis curse and you’ve been crying so much that even the tiny amount of makeup you do wear got smeared’. You don't eat. You don't rest. I doubt you're even getting enough sleep. You can't keep hiding it with glamour charms. You have to talk to him.”

“I don't have anything to talk to that. . . that. . . lubricious dog”, Hermione said, her body went rigid at the mere suggestion of talking to Ron. Under no circumstances would she stoop to talking to him.

“Hermione…” Ginny was patient enough to confront her friend. Sometimes she was surprised at how damned stubborn she could be and how much she and Ron were alike in that. “Right now you're being miserable and stupid too. Yes; stupid. Don't look at me like that”, she defended herself when the brunette frowned at her. “Think about it. Since you stopped talking to him, you don't have him like your couple or like your best friend anymore.

This does not mean that you have stopped nursing a broken heart, or that have you forgotten him. You’ve closed off any chance you might have had from making him realise he’s a right tool for dating Lavender because he can’t already to notice how extraordinary you are. How's he going to notice if you aren’t anywhere near him?

Ginny knew it was her turn to tell a big lie. Ron already knew how extraordinary Hermione was. During the summer holidays of the fourth year, Voldemort's return had been a constant topic in family conversations, but the other big topic had been Ron's monologues explaining how damned cool Hermione was and that a certain Bulgarian “pumpkin head” didn't deserve her at all. They used to end with the twins placed one on each side of a red Ronald in rage, while imitating a pair of languid-looking violinists, playing a romantic tune.

“Don't go down that road, Ginevra. As far as I'm concerned, your brother has ceased to exist. I'm not going to let him keep hurting me one way or another”, Hermione interrupted her as she proudly raised her chin and passed a sleeve of his school sweater over her face to clean it. “He was the one who started treating me like dragon dung after I invited him to the Slughorns party and I don't even know why. I can't remember anything I could have offended him about and I don't care anymore. As far as I'm concerned, he can take Lavender and do whatever he likes with her.”

Ginny could hear the tremor in Hermione's voice when she made her last statement, but she couldn't tell her that not for a moment had she managed to fool her with that bombastic claim that she didn't care at all what Ron and Lavender did together, because a feeling drowned out her own voice. A feeling called. . . remorse.

“In fact. . .” Her words escaped in a whisper from between her lips as her gaze rested on her own shoes.

Hermione stopped her walk when she saw Ginny to stop. Even through the veil of tears that covered her eyes, she could sense that something was wrong with Ginny.

“Ginny, what. . . ?”

“In fact”, She took every ounce of courage to lift her eyes off the ground to face her friend's, knowing that what was coming now would have frightening, unknown, and possibly disastrous consequences. “I think you should know that not Ron’s entire fault.”

For months, Ginny had been carrying guilt about what happened between Hermione and her brother. She knew that Ron had processed in the worst possible way the information that she had let slip. No doubt her passionate brother was ultimately responsible for the entire aftermath, yes, but there was no denying that her indiscretion had been the trigger for everything that had happened afterwards.

“Ginny. What do you mean?” Something shook in Hermione's gut. Something dark and slimy, like a premonition that something terrible was coming, something that made her afraid to know the answer.

“Hermione… you see… a few months ago Harry surprised me when I was snogging Dean behind a tapestry.”

“Well”. For a moment she hoped that that awful feeling of apprehension was just her imagination. “I don't think Harry liked that very much and I understand that you felt uncomfortable, but I don't understand how. . .” but when she saw Ginny Wesley’s serious face, that hope vanished like sea foam.

“Ron was with him.”

A freezing cold ran down Hermione Granger's spine, making her wince while her heart seemed to have missed a beat.

“Wh-what else happened, Ginny?”

“Ron… well, you know how overprotective he is… he burst into a speech about my reputation, what everyone would think of me, and practically called me a scarlet slut”. Ginny blushed furiously as she remembered the whole incident. “I finally told him there was nothing wrong with it. I made fun of him that he wished Fleur would kiss his cheek and that his best kiss had come from Aunt Muriel”. Her voice seemed to raise an octave at a time as she was telling it, as if the memory were recreating the anger she felt against her meddlesome brother at that moment. “That everyone was doing it and enjoying it except him. I teased him and told him, if he kissed Pigwidgeon, Harry kissed Cho, and you. . .” Ginny was interrupted at that moment when she realized the look full of pain and betrayal that Hermione was giving her with all her intensity.

“Say it, Ginevra Weasley”. An acidic poison filtered through her words as she waited for the statement that would confirm what her heart already knew.

“You kissed Viktor”, she finished, in a whisper.

And there it all was. Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears as her tiny body shook with rage. The ultimate reason for her broken heart and her pain, for her frustration and her bitterness, for the caresses and kisses that were denied her and given to another, for the worst months of her live in short, was finally before her.

Feeling the bile rise in her throat she began to turn around to run to a toilet where she could vomit when she felt her elbow being caught as she listened:

“Hermione, I. . . I'm sorry.”

That was already more than he could bear.

“Are you sorry? You, who call yourself my best friend, do you feel sorry?” For months she had been containing all her feelings of pain, resentment and hate under a seemingly flawless facade, but Ginny's confession had caused a rift and all that steam that had now found a weak spot was uncontainable. “And what exactly are you sorry for, Ginny? Are you sorry you didn't tell me so I could have tried to fix it at the time? Or are you sorry you to stole my hope and my chance for happiness? Or maybe are you sorry you didn't keep Dean's tongue inside your big mouth and avoid destroying everything”, she said as he trembled with anger and pain, feeling the magic crackling between her fingers, asking for permission to claim her wand and curse the redheaded traitor.

“You knew how I felt about your brother”, her face reddened with pure fury, as her eyes filled with the tears of broken hope. “You knew I was afraid of how Ron would react if he found out about Viktor. I begged you, I pleaded with you to keep it a secret“, her voice began to break. “I supported, comforted and suggest you when you were a nervous wreck with Harry. I defended you so that your brothers would not leave you behind and take you out of danger like a weak little girl unable to defend herself. I put my heart in your hands and my trust in your silence and you… you betrayed it all because you couldn't control your temper when they stopped you having a goddamn shag with your boyfriend?”

Okay. Hermione had overstepped the mark. Ginny wasn't a Weasley for nothing. She understood that she was broken by the pain, but it was also true that she needed to learn something and, by Merlin! She was going to learn it! Even if it meant casting a full-body binding spell on her! The pain and remorse for the involuntary betrayal of her friend was not the only thing on Ginny Wesley’s conscience. There was also something else, and it was time to bring it out into the open.

“It was your fault that you and Ron never got anywhere too, Granger! I'm sorry, but that was”. Hermione felt as if the previous insult had been added to a slap. Not only was the charge harsh, but Ginny had used her last name, something that only happened when she was particularly angry. She wanted to answer, but she didn't have time to reply before the temperamental redhead started talking again without taking her eyes off the stunned prefect.

“Do you ever really wonder why he's with Lavender and not with you? Have you ever really tried to put yourself in his shoes to understand what he saw in her or what she offered him and that you never gave him?”

Hermione felt again the taste of bile rise in her throat and only the anger that burned inside her like hellfire prevented her from vomiting right there.

“Sex! That hooker is shagging him. . .” escaped between her teeth in a hiss so low and so loaded with hate and contempt that it seemed pure poison.

“For Merlin’s beard!” Hermione was surprised to find Ginny who rolled her eyes in obvious disbelief. “Do you really think Ron's with her because they're fucking like rabbits, Hermione? Merlin! I knew Ron was a tough cookie, but I think you could give him a run for his”. Her eyes fell back on the increasingly stupefied, frizzy-haired witch.

“And, when were they supposed to start ‘copulating’, Hermione?”Ginny made an obscene gesture with both hands and a finger. “He was stuck with you from the time the course started until the day you decided to stop talking to him. You shared classes; you shared patrols around the school. He had the quidditch training sessions. When he was in the common room he was joking or slaughtering Harry at chess and when it was neither of those things, he was with you in the library begging you to help him with his homework. So unless he has a time-turner or is sneaking out at night, can you tell me what time of day he takes to sneak out and to shagging Lavender into the wall?” Ginny thought her explanation had made the point, but as she watched the brunette's frown grow into a gesture of intense concentration she could not help but be horrified.

“I can't believe it!” She raised her arms to the incredulous sky. “You're really considering what I said? Well, I have to tell you something, genius! Two people are needed for that activity. Did you ever see Lavender mysteriously disappear before all this mess and, come back dishevelled, with hickeys or looking appropriately fucked?”

Ginny was reassured to see the light of sanity in Hermione's eyes again, but this was quickly replaced with a deep sadness that obscured her gaze.

“So, if it wasn't the sex, I don't know what you mean, Ginny. I understand what he sees in her. Lavender is everything I'm not physically, but I've been her friend since first year. I thought he would appreciate that much more.”

Ginny's disbelief in Hermione's blindness was reaching cosmic proportions.

“Exactly! That's what he sees. To a woman who offers him the attention of a friend and sometimes less than that. He has never seen from you any attention or, Merlin, not so much as a compliment’ that reflects more than friendship for him, Hermione!” she spat while the other girl seemed to look like a victim of a stunning spell, but Ginny pressed on, determined not to give Hermione any chance to replicate.

“You never told him he was worth it! A mention at the end of the third year after Sirius broke his leg, and little else! Never as quidditch player. Damn it! You didn't even see him in his victory last year, when he was the star of the game without being, for once, under Harry's shadow, grounded by the disgusting toad. No. You left with Hagrid. You ignored him again. He understands you putting him behind Harry, but Hagrid? For Merlin’s sake, Hermione”, the temperamental redhead put her hands on her hips, meanwhile she went back to her bewildered friend again. “You've seen his performance in DA. He's the best duellist after Harry. He only fails when he's confronted with you. The poor jerk is not even able to hold his wand properly when he has your image in front of him. . .” a mischievous smile slips on Ginny's face for the first time. . . “in your presence, at least.”

Hermione's jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide as a furious blush covered her cheeks at the prying comment of the meddling sister, and her heart seemed to go crazy in her chest when she wonders what she meant and one, not at all honest, image of Ron “wand in hand” seems to venture into her mind, causing a shudder in her belly.

But before she can revel in it, the truce given by the youngest of the Weasleys concludes.

“Did you ever tell him he was a good wizard? No; not like a friend, not like a partner, but a WIZARD. Did you ever really fight for him?”

Ginny was sorry. It really pained her to yell at her best friend that way, especially when she saw Hermione’s face in pain. It was one thing to launch an offense of the moment and quite another to proceed with a full-blown assault, but it was too late. A dam had been broken and the torrent was already uncontrollable, moreover. Some things needed to be said and done, no matter how much they might hurt and perhaps make them look.

“Lavender did it! She noticed a wizard she liked, she found him funny, she found him fanciable, handsome, worthy of being shown off as her boyfriend and who knows what else in my dumb brother, and she showed her! That's why you lost him. Because you drowned in your own insecurity and fed his! And it won't be because you didn't have more than one warning!” Her eyes narrowed as she stared at her know-it-all friend.

“Do you really think that Padma Patil, proud Ravenclaw and one of the most beautiful girls in the whole school, didn't have other suitors for the Yule Ball? Or... Are you seriously going to argue that you didn’t notice how Luna was staring at him all of last year?

It was as if Hermione had been hit with a stinging spell. Of course! She had noticed the sustained glances the grey-eyed blonde had given Ron and the conversations she seemed to be looking for when the meeting was over. Although compared to what she felt against Lavender it was a trifle, that time was definitely when she felt the green-eyed monster establish a permanent camp in his heart.

“You can be thankful that he's completely clueless, or he could’ve ended up giving his heart to someone a long time ago”, she said with a suggestive eyebrow.

“But no. You decided to stay in no-man-land, with no initiative, ignoring warnings. Perhaps thinking… no, hoping… that no one else would notice him. Obviously, he won't have a second look from Madame Rosmerta right now and you might even find it comical to remember the Yule Ball incident with Fleur, but if you took a moment to reflect on who Fleeeeeerg's fiancé is, you might find out what another Weasley looks like”, she said with an eyebrow raised again as one of the corners of his mouth seemed to rise in a mocking smile. “Maybe if she hadn't met Bill and Ron had gotten a couple more years to grow up. . . Well, Gabrielle is a Delacour too, is veela too and she's pretty cute, don't you think?” Ginny's smile looked awfully similar to George and Fred's when they were preparing some of their shenanigans against Ron. “Really I don't know, though. After all, my brother seems to have a thing for women “older..." with her fingers, she simulated the quotation marks“...that him.”

If Hermione's brain seemed to have been blocked with the information overload, her heart, which had seen all the signs! It seemed to have been used as the model in one of Professor McGonagall's classes and transformed into an angry hummingbird that buzzed in her chest protesting that it'd been silenced for so long and shouting I told you so!

“Maybe, deep down, you're still seeing the eleven-year-old boy you met on the train”, Hermione’s shoulders sank in resignation, “and you didn't realize that boy is long gone! Someone's here! Someone claimed him as her own! And now, you're learning the lesson he learned in fourth year: that one day someone could come along and take him away from you... FOREVER.”

That had been overwhelming. Hermione felt as if she had been caught in an avalanche and it was dragging her helplessly down the mountain, unable to resist its uncontrollable power.

“B. . . Bu...” she stuttered as she tried to pull herself together. “But I… I gave him clues. I invited him to Professor Slughorn's party; I kis... kissed him before the game. . .”

“On the cheek, damn it!” Ginny blew up, interrupting her. “Like if he was just a brother or a baby boy!”

“He hasn’t ever implied that he has any other interest in me”, her voice fell in a whisper that did not even seem to have the strength to convince herself. “H... He called me a nightmare once.”

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione! He was an eleven-year-old boy who was overwhelmed by a girl who had read and memorized all the books of the first year before starting school and who in her first class of spells, casted a perfect spell on her first attempt when she didn't even know she was a witch until three months before.”

“Is that it, then?” If there was a daze before, it was now as if she were in the presence of a boggart facing her worst fears. “He thinks he must be with a pureblood because I am a freak who should have been a pitiful witch for being mugg-muggleborn and...” Her thoughts died on her lips when she suddenly found herself at the other side of Ginny's wand.

“Don't even complete that sentence, Granger,” Ginny's face had become so red that it was practically purple. “Don't even think about completing it”, she hissed. “Ron may be too blind to see what's right in front of his eyes, but I won't have you insulting my brother like that”. Her voice is practically vibrating with wrath. “You didn't see him completely devastated at your bedside after the raid on the mystery department, nor when he came, every night! To watch over you when the basilisk petrified you, back in your second year!”, Hermione's eyes open wide as a moan escapes her chest at the revelation, but the redhead is not finished with her.

“Did you know he confronted McGonagall and Mrs Pomfrey when they wanted to force him to stop visiting you? That he fought a giant spider for you? Don't you remember when he spent an afternoon throwing up slugs for you? Yeah. He may be a more of an oblivious prat than anyone else I know, but his heart has always been in the right place. Maybe the problem is that there's more than oblivious prat round here.”

“You always told him that Krum was just a friend, but you never told him that you did NOT love Viktor and you didn't know or didn't want, to caught him between the rock and the wand and ask him: Why are you jealous? and force him to confess. With all the stupid fights you have all the time! The most important was the one you didn't provoke it, when you know, Ron works best with a direct approach and is very insecure under the shadow of his brothers, but there are more so”.

“Your pride got the better of you and you never told him you were Krum's Yule’s Ball partner. If you had told him, he might have had more time to deal with it. But you didn’t. Without wanting to, you rubbed it in his face and you never stopped to think that when he saw you on Krum’s arm, before the jealousy, he must have felt that you didn’t trust him.”

“You didn't realize, I'll give you that”, she raised her hand before Hermione can even hear the whole sentence, “you were always comparing him to Harry. . . Harry, the handsome one. . . Harry, who grew up so much last summer. . . Harry, with his manly scars. . . Harry, the bloke... Harry, the fanciable one. . . Harry, the great teacher. . . Harry, who kissed Cho “in a more than satisfactory way. . . Harry, who you never accused of being an insensitive wart or of having the emotional range of a teaspoon. . . even though Harry is as blind and made the same mistakes, if not bigger, about girls, as Ron”, the redhead's voice broke for one moment.

“Yes. You invited him to Professor Horace's party, but do you remember how you did it? You didn't tell him that you want to go with him, but, that guests were allowed to bring companions and that you had planned to invite him. How do you think that sounded to him? Perhaps, like an act of mercy towards the mediocre friend of The Chosen One and The most brilliant witch of her generation, The Slug Club’s honour guests?” Ginny questioned Hermione with a look. “You told me how excited you were to have quality time with him at Grimmauld Place before Harry came, remember? You told me and only because I had you over a barrel, but did you ever tell him? How happy you were to be able to share some quality time, you with him? Have you realized that he always invited you to our home, but you never invited him to yours?”

“And finally”, Ginny's pupils were so high that it looked like her eyes were going to roll back on themselves, “the icing on the cake. Instead of telling him he wouldn't have needed the Felix potion, because you were sure he would be able to play an extraordinary game on his own, you attacked him for using it. A perfect continuation of what happened in the summer before fifth year. Who was elected prefect, Hermione? It was Harry, wasn't it?”

Hermione felt as if a stone had been tied to her feet and thrown into the coldest dungeon. Ginny had laid out the facts in a cold, one-on-one manner, as if she were a court prosecutor giving her an overview she had never acknowledged before. But of all that, what hurt her most, it was the mention of Ron's prefecture. She would have been happy to give up her soul in order to correct that terrible mistake and, even then, the implacable redhead did not seem to have finished with her.

“And you can still be thankful he doesn't know what you did with McLaggen in the keeper trials”. As soon as she heard her, she was no longer hopelessly abandoned in a dirty dungeon, but her hands were tied behind her back, a bag was placed over her head and she was thrown into the sea as she sank irretrievably into an abyss that did not allow her to breathe. “Harry just used a mind trick on him. He made him to think he was invincible because Harry had cheated, but. . . YOU DID IT! Can you imagine what it'd do to his self-esteem if he found out about that? That would make him see that you see him as useless. Like a snotty baby who needs to be helped to walk, unable to do anything good by himself. . .”

“IT'S A ROTTEN LIE!” The burst of the heartbreaking scream gave way to uncontrollable crying. The grief that had gradually set in Hermione's chest could no longer be contained and she could no longer bear it. “It has never been like that”, a whiny whisper escaped her lips before she put her hands over her face and felt herself falling to her knees on the cold stone.

“It's never been like this.” If seeing Ron with Lavender had been like having her heart ripped out of her chest, Ginny had ripped her soul out like a dementor leaving her hollow, empty inside. In the last remnants of her sanity she wondered if all the Weasley siblings had the gift of cruelty.

“He's extraordinary”. She sobbed. “He doesn't realize it, but he is and that frustrates me so much”, she confessed. “He doesn't realize it, but I see it. I've been watching it ever since I saw that long and gawky redheaded guy with dirt on his nose. He was adorable when he tried to do magic with Pettigrew trying to turn him yellow. Why do you think it hurt me so much to be called a nightmare, when I had been called worse things in my old muggle school?”

Now the surprise had changed sides and it was the redheaded Weasley who was left with her eyes wide open as she felt the longing in her friend's voice.

“Because it was him who told me!” She almost screamed, raising her face to the sky to confront her inquisitor. “I wouldn't have cared if the insult came from anyone else! I was already ignoring the “know-it-all”, “cactus-head” and “beaver-toothed” comments that some were giving me, but I didn't care about him. I wanted to be his friend. His friend! That's why I was willing to lie to McGonagall!”

The crying had finally stopped and as she focused her inflamed, red eyes on her best friend, they began to glow with the passion behind them.

“Do you really think I don't see the kind of extraordinary wizard. . .? NO!” She interrupted herself and there was real pride in her voice now.

“Not because he's wizard! It would be exactly the same if he were muggle. Do you think I don't see the kind of extraordinary MAN he's meant to be as long as he has a little more confidence in himself?” She had raised her chin now when pride in her best friend had surged over her chest threatening to pop the buttons on her shirt while, the vocal inflection she imprinted when she referred to him as man made a chill run down Ginny's back from the back of her neck to where her back loses its honest name.

No. That was not desire only. It was much more! It was a wild wish. Primary and possessive like the predator that stalks its prey. Ginny had no doubt that if at that moment her carefree brother had turned up there; despite her anger, despite her spite, Hermione would have cornered him against the wall and ridden him like a wild beast marking him as her own forever, and yet the temperamental redhead grasped something else. Underneath that entire wish, there was something else. Something she knew but had never understood in its fair measure until then.

Love.

A love so immeasurable and desperate that it could consume all the lives that Hermione Jean Granger could live.

“Do you think I haven't seen how loyal he is? Do you think I don't see the gratitude he professes for Harry since he chose him over Malfoy before he was classified?” Hermione had lost all inhibition and stood proudly on the ground. She had been accused without knowing the fullness of her feelings for Ron. Good. So be it. In return, she would bare her soul and burn everyone who saw it with the burning radiance of her love for him.

“Ronald would be able to go down to hell with one arm tied behind his back if Harry asked him to. Yes, that's right. I didn't know about the acromantula affair or his confrontation with the teachers, but knowing that doesn't change what I feel, because that's not the fear that nests in my heart. No”, she said as she nodded her head. “My terror is not to know what or how many more times he's done it. I saw him standing front of Sirius, battered, bleeding, with a broken leg,... no wand and willing to be an insurmountable wall between Harry and me. Willing to drop dead rather than let him pass”, his proud pose now cracks and for a moment his body trembles, but she pulls herself together. Her face hardens again and her gaze returns to her best and most painfully sincere friend.

“No Ginevra. That's not what grips my heart and squeezes it like a black claw. I am not afraid of all he has done, because he has done it, it is past and now he is here, safe and with me. What terrifies me is what he will do”, an atom of understanding appears in the eyes of the redhead what is quickly replaced with fear when she comes to understand all the consequences of Hermione's point. “I know it. One day he'll come between me and a deadly curse and he will be taken from me by it, Ginny. He'll be ripped away from me and there's nothing I can do to stop him”. There was so much love in Hermione's eyes, so much devotion, so much pride and so much despair that Ginny's heart trembles as she notices the moisture flooding her own eyes.

“And I don't need that to love him. I used to do it before all that. It just makes me love him even more. With such intensity and such desperation that it hurts Ginny. It really hurts”. Tears now roll freely down both women's faces.

“Do you think I don't know that he sees himself as stupid, ignorant and mediocre in everything? But I've seen him beat McGonagall when he was twelve. I have seen him develop a brilliant strategy to protect Harry and me with the cost of his own life on a deadly chessboard”, again her voice trembled, as she relived in her mind that horrible scene of Ron being brutally beaten by the queen while for the second time, the youngest of the Weasleys regretted opening her big mouth and how similar she was to her closest brother.

“You're saying I don't realize his magical abilities? That, I can't see that he's with the same level as Harry? But have you noticed how much better a wizard he is than I am?” Hermione has a dark satisfaction in watching Ginny's wide open eyes. She, who has accused her of despising her brother, is not innocent of the same sin.

“He hardly studies. He falls asleep in all the history of Magic classes, is always late to write his essays. . . So what? He is able to perform any spell once he has seen the technique; he doesn't even need to study it. I can’t see it before, but I understood it at the end of last year. He doesn't give a damn about any data or magic that has no practical application. Now he causes hilarity because in class of transformations he invoked a huge moustache when the spell failed”, a sad smile comes to her face when she remembers the scene. “But when he finds out how useful they can be in hiding from the Deatheaters, to do body transformations will be like breathing for him”. Hermione pauses for a moment, as if needing to rearrange his thoughts after his vehement exposure, and on his serious face, an ironic smile is drawn.

“So, how did he feel overwhelmed by me when I levitated a quill at Professor Flitwick's class?” And now it was the fire of defiance that burns in her eyes when she turns to Ginny.

“He used ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ to knock out a mountain with its own club in the middle of a combat to death” And just in that moment, Ginevra Molly Weasley realized that in front of her was not a haughty Hermione Jean Granger, but the still unconscious Ron Weasley’s wife in fiery and proud vindication of her husband.

“The only problem is his damn insecurity”, there was a hint of sadness in her voice now. “He feels so inadequate under the shadow of all of you that, God! Sometimes I feel in my fingers the magic to curse all of you for having contributed to that. But when he is safe, when he is calm, when he does not feel the need to prove himself to anyone, when he does not have time to think or when no one sees him, he is amazing. I. . . I only cause him to he see himself as he is, as the others see him, as Luna see him!” She sobs. “There's not a more beloved prefect in the whole school! Every time a student has a problem, they go after him. It doesn't matter what house they are. Everyone knows they can count on him. Did you know that I learned the names of all the students of Gryffindor from him, Ginny?” Surprised, she shakes her head without saying a word. She was intensely aware that she shouldn’t interrupt Hermione's cathartic process now. “He knows the names of all the students in the lower years of Gryffindor. I imagine that even the sixth and seventh years and everyone goes to him when they have a problem in their real life or get into a mess. Not like me, they only come to me when they have problems with their homework and they do it not because he is soft or he will not punish them. I've seen him put such imaginative and appropriate punishments that would make McGonagall want to adopt him! No, it's nothing like that. It is because he understands them and helps them when they really need it, but he is so convinced that he is mediocre, he is so afraid to fail that he simply suffocates herself and slips up because of it”.

“That's why he didn't ask you to be his date at the Yule Ball”, Hermione is surprised when Ginny takes the floor again. There's no reproach in her tone now, just warmth. “That idiot, he was dying to invite you. Believe me, I know”. Ginny raised her hand gently to Hermione's threat of interruption, who had opened her mouth to give her the counterpoint.

“But he was terrified, Hermione. He couldn’t just see you as his best friend anymore to become someone he likes in the romantic sense of the word. The poor idiot wanted to hide it saying those silly things about going with the prettiest girl, or that since you both didn't have a partner you could go together and all that dragon shit”, she said, raising her hands and rolling her eyes at the same time, “and you saw how it ended that night. He went with one of the two most beautiful, exotic and noticed girls in the school, but he didn't dance her, he didn't give her a compliment, he didn’t give her a glance, because of how jealous he was of Viktor Krum.”

Ginny had taken the hand of the brunette with the furious hair and red eyes in front of her. All the initial frustration had faded as she discovered the intensity of Hermione's feelings for her brother, and now she just wanted to give her the comfort she really needed. To be the friend she was supposed to be.

Hermione, on the other hand, was devastated. If physically this confrontation added to her exhaustion from the last few days, emotionally she was a broken doll, and the tears that ran down her cheeks were the irrefutable proof of that. She felt her legs fail her and let herself slide down the wall of the corridor until she was seated on the hard floor of the castle. In a moment of rage and pain, she had opened the doors of her heart wide to her best friend. She had taken out of her chest all that anger and pain that she had been feeling for months and now, instead of a little peace, what she found was an immense emptiness, a darkness so dark that she was surprised that her heart continued beating, because seemed that it was only fed with that anger and now, in its absence, it found no sense to continue beating.

Her silent crying was interrupted for a moment when she felt her friend sit beside her and wrap her in a warm hug. There was no hostility there anymore, just warmth and an offer of comfort that she accepted crying out loud.

“I had bought a new dress for the slug meeting”, she whispered between hiccups and sobs after a moment. “Since I couldn't have that ball with him, I wanted, oh God!” She sighed. “I… I really wanted to have a real first date with him that was perfect. I even intended to be much more aggressive...”, a sad smile escaped her lips that broke Ginny's heart when she saw it“... with him that night. I even thought about having a couple of drinks to loosen up a bit and make it easier”. The longing in her eyes made the youngest of the Weasleys understand the double meaning of the phrase when she heard it. “And, what happened, Ginny? I missed his first kiss and I lost him.”

“Then you know what you have to do when that pair of squids break off”. The freckled redhead had genuine love in her eyes when she said it and gently pressed her hug when the brunette looked at her with a face of disbelief.

“Oh, come on! Don't look so surprised, Hermione. That relationship won't last. Ron is not comfortable with Lavender. It's true that she has improved his self-esteem, but he doesn't love her. There's got to be a lot more than kissing in a relationship with Ron. He needs passion, vehemence, fire. There has to be someone to incite him, to challenge him, to cause him to be better, do you remember?" She said, raising his eyebrows as she wrote “quotations marks" with her fingers.

“He needs you.”

That says it all. The two join into a comforting embrace, each resting her head on the other's shoulder, and while the only daughter of the Weasley clan feels the moisture seeping through her sweater and the tremor of her disheartened friend, this one can barely hear the “stupid blindness” that Ginny mumbles.

“Miss Weasley, Miss Granger! What are you supposed to be doing at this time outside their common room?”

Sitting on the floor, Ginny was stupefied for a moment and then, the next moment, she burst out laughing uncontrollably, causing her hands to fall to her ribs as she rolled on the floor in a very undignified position, seeing how “by magic", the “perfect prefect” seems to have apparate standing next to the head of the house, defying the rule that she has repeated countless times, ‘No one can apparate at the Hogwarts grounds...’

“Miss...Miss Weasley! Just what is so funny. . . ?” But the redheads uncontrollable laughter interrupted her.

Meanwhile, at the same time Ginny tried to point her trembling finger at one Hermione Granger, who seemed to have inherited the Weasley superpower to redness to the point of spontaneous combustion.

“Miss Weasley”, without losing her composure in the face of the unusual scene, Minerva McGonagall tried to take control of the bewildering picture, although in reality she didn’t seem in the least surprised. “Please pull yourself together, stand up! I hope you have a satisfactory explanation for your behaviour.”

“Prof... Professor” , Hermione's timid attempt is again interrupted, with another roaring laugh from Ginny, who can barely stand on her shaky legs as she kept pointing at her friend and her face seemed to be about to split in two for a grinning from ear to ear.

“Shit on it, Hermione! For Merlin's sake. . .”

“Miss Weasley!”

“Just a moment ago...” Ginny seemed to ignore the presence of the transformation teacher as she continued her jocular chatter “...you were talking about how to try and relax, so you could have the courage to face Ro. . . the ‘asshole’ and do what you want and, as soon as Professor McGonagall appears, you jump up and down and get stiff as if a stick had been shoved up your arse? What. . .”

“MISS WEASLEY!” At this moment the teacher's face looked absolutely horrified with the colourful language from the youngest of the Weasley family.

“Ginny. I sincerely believe that this is not the time. . .”Whispered a brunette with her hair more frizzy than ever, as she threw an Avada Kedavraish look at her shameless friend who, seemed to have either uncontrollable verbal incontinence or an unparalleled suicidal wish. Meanwhile Ginny continued to talk without realising it.

“Are you going to be just as stunned when he freezes and a trickle of slime when you “turn more aggressive with. . .”

“ENOUGH!” Raising both her voice and her hand in an energetic gesture that cannot be replied to Mc Gonnagall interrupted the diatribe and laughter of the fifth year student, who finally seemed to notice the presence of her teacher. “I don't really care anymore why you are out of their rooms after curfew and not even what it was all about”, she said, as she puts two finger to the bridge of her nose as if she had a terrible headache. “The point is that you both are contravening the rules of the school and therefore both deserve a detention”, provoking the immediate face of terror of the sixth year prefect.

“Miss Weasley. It's not just the fact you are wandering around the castle after hours, doing who knows what? But I will not consent to the use of such vulgar and rude language in my presence. So, next Friday, you will report to Mr. Filch who will tell you which toilets to clean. . . no magic.”

“As for you, Miss Granger; I really cannot understand why you did not immediately accompany Miss Weasley to Gryffindor Tower neglecting your duties as prefect. Do you have anything to say that might excuse you?”

“Actually, I think I can, Professor McGonagall”, which provokes a gleam of curiosity in the glances now directed at her, from the punished student and the Transfiguration Professor simultaneously. “But it's not in my defence”, she says, looking up from her shoes, “but in the case of Ginevra Molly Weasley”, a perverse smile hints at Hermione's face that quickly becomes sweet, when she see a grimace of annoyance at her friend's as soon she was called with her full name. “Actually, I was having a problem focusing on one of my assignments and she offered me a new perspective”, she says just at the instant she turns away for a moment her eyes from her favourite teacher, to offer a warm smile to the stubborn redhead.

“Well, that's a commendable attitude no doubt, Miss Weasley”, for a moment the latter of them thinks she detects the flash of a smile on the teacher's face, but it's so fleeting that she thinks she's imagining it. “But both of you will understand that the corridors of Hogwarts at dawn are neither the place nor the time for such things, for which the sanctions are still in force. Are you both aware of this?”

“We are, Professor McGonagall.” They both answer together.

“Good. Gryffindor will be deducted ten points for each of you for being out of the common premises after curfew and Miss Weasley will be deducted another five points for inappropriate language. I would recommend that you do not reply, Miss Weasley”, she adds, seeing like the redhead was making the attempt to protest, “and thank Miss Granger for her defence. Initially I was planning to deduct another ten points.”

“I'll thank you very much, Hermione”, she mumbles in a buzzing tone that makes the target of her gratitude shudder imagining the kind of thank you that must be planning to give her the explosive temperament of the redhead. “All right. I think it's time for us to get back to the tower and get some rest for the rest of the night”, she says in a breath.

It was at the moment when both students have turned around and started to withdraw in the direction of Gryffindor Tower when:

“By the way. . .” the voice of the head of Gryffindor house forced them to turn around to face her again and find her with her back to them.

“I think that change of perspective will be very useful to you, Miss Granger”, she adds as she turns his head and stares over his glasses at the surprised prefect.

“Wha..Yeah?. . . err. Yes. I. . . I think it’ll be, professor. Yes, I'm sure it will be. Thank you very much”, stutters the dazed brunette meanwhile Ginny bit her hand in a desperate attempt not to burst into laughter once again.

“I expected no less from you, Miss Granger. You're dismissed.”

And so, while the two students of the renowned Hogwarts School of Magic and Sorcery, one of them in a state of shock and the other one barely able to contain her laughter, headed back to their tower, Professor McGonagall finally headed for her own quarters, the beginnings of a smile on her face:

“Fifty points for Gryffindor...” to his mind comes, the memory of the great dining room adorned in green and silver, while a venerable aged man with white beard speaks and one chubby and fearful child, listens astonished his words. '. . . It takes great courage to stand up to our enemies, but it takes the same courage to stand up to friends. . .' "Miss Weasley.”

The End.

Notes:

I would like to thank to the incredible @headcanonsandmore, for her invaluable help in completing the English version of the text. Without her, it really wouldn't have been possible. I think this is, so far, my best work, and if there's anyone it deserves to be dedicated to, it's you. Again, thank you very much for your help.

This is the work that, I really would have liked to present at the @romioneficfest 2020, but it turned out to be a bit long. . . more than 10 times longer, but... a lovelly Dragon, gave me a chance.

Thanks to read.

#Romione #Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Ginny Weasley #Ron Weasley #Luna Lovegood #Mental Anguish #Love Confessions #True Love #Friendship #Missing Moments

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25513438

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 5 years

Text

(Some of) My Favourite Quotes from the How To Train Your Dragon movies

“This is Berk.”

“There’s Fishlegs, Snotlout, the Twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, and...*voice crack* Astrid. *cue heart eyes*”

"You sir, are playing a dangerous game. Keeping this much raw... Viking-ness... contained?! THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES!" // “I’ll take my chances.”

"Well, between you and me, the village could do with a little less feeding, don't you think?"

“Excuse me, barmaid! I’m afraid you’ve brought me the wrong offspring - I ordered an extra large boy with beefy arms, extra guts and glory on the side! This here? This is a talking fish bone!”

"It's not so much what you look like, it's what's inside that he can't stand."

“You need to stop all...this.” // “You just pointed to all of me.” // “Yes, that’s it! Stop being all of you.”

"Oh, the gods hate me. Some people lose their knife, or their mug. No, not me. I manage to lose an ENTIRE DRAGON?!"

"Oh, man! I should've gone first! 'Cause I was thinking, you know, we have a surplus of dragon-fighting Vikings, but do we have enough... Bread-making Vikings? Or small-home-repair Vikings?"

"Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it."

“Yeah, no kidding, right? Pain, love it."

“What’s the first thing you’re going to need?” // “A doctor?!?”

“Get back to bed, ya overgrown sausage!”

"Toothless? I could've sworn you had... teeth."

“Ha! It’s like the size of my- AHHHH!”

“I AM HURT, VERY MUCH HURT!”

"Everything we know about you guys is wrong."

“SON OF A HALF TROLL, RAT EATING MUNGE BUCKET!”

"Uh, you're right, you're right, you're right. I'm through with the lies. I've been making... outfits. So, you got me. It's time everyone knew. Drag me back. Go ahead. Here we go."

"OW! Why would you DO that?!"

"That's for the lies! And that's... [Drops the butt of her axe on Hiccup's groin]... for everything else!"

“Da-da-da, we’re dead!”

“And now the spinning. Thank you for nothing, you useless reptile.”

[Punches Hiccup] "That's for kidnapping me... [Kisses him on the cheek] That's for everything else."

“They’ve killed hundreds of us-!” // “And we’ve killed thousands of them!”

“You’re not a Viking. You’re not my son.”

“Three hundred years and I’m the first Viking who wouldn’t kill a dragon.” // “...First to ride one though.”

“I wouldn’t kill him because he looked as frightened as I was...I looked at him, and I saw myself.”

“So? What are you gonna do?”

“I knew it. I’m dead.”

“That’s for scaring me!” // “What, is it always going to be this way, this-?!” // *kisses him* // “I...could get used to it.”

“THAT’S MY FUTURE DAUGHTER IN LAW!!!”

"Oh, what? You want an apology? Is that why you're pouting, big baby-poo?"

"Well try this on! [hugs him, tries to wrestle with him] Oh, you feeling it yet? Huh? Picking up on all of my heartfelt remorse?"

“He's down! Oh, and it's ugly! Dragons and Vikings, enemies again! Locked in combat to the bitter--[Toothless pins Hiccup] --AAHHHhhhh..."

[After Toothless licks him] "You KNOW that doesn't wash out!"

"So, what should we name it?" [Toothless scratches his armpit] "Itchy Armpit it is."

“Son, we need to talk!-“ // “Not now, dad, I’ve got a whole day of goofing off to get started.”

“What you’re searching for isn’t out there, Hiccup - it’s in here. Maybe you just don’t see it yet.”

(Slow motion) “Oh my 😏 me likey... take me...!”

"I don't know. It's kind of hard to wrap my head around, to be frank. It's not everyday you find out your mother is some kind of... crazy, feral, vigilante dragon lady." // “Well...at least I’m not boring!”

“...he got me back. Right, bud? You couldn't save all of me, could you? You just had to make it even. So,..peg leg!”

"Never take a toy from a dragon. Don't you know anything?"

“This is why I never married - this, and one other reason.”

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

"That's your mother?" // “Well, now you see where I get my dramatic flair!"

“May the Valkyries welcome you and lead you through Odin's great battlefield. May they sing your name with love and fury, so that we might hear it rise from the depths of Valhalla and know that you've taken your rightful place at the table of kings. For a great man has fallen: A warrior. A chieftain. A father. A friend.

“He always said you’d become the strongest of them all - and he was right.”

“You have the heart of a Chief and the soul of a dragon”

“A Chief protects his own.”

“It wasn’t your fault, bud...they made you do it...please, you’re my best friend...my best friend.”

"Yeah! Take 'em down, babe!"

“Now do you get it? This is what it is to earn a dragons loyalty!”

“He’s challenging the Alpha!” // “To protect you!”

“See..I told you it was in here.” (Punches his suit, making his wings sprout up)

“The Chief has come home!”

"This is Berk. A bit trampled and busted and covered in ice, but it's home. It's our home. Those who attacked us, are relentless, and crazy. But those who stopped them, oh, even more so! We may be small in numbers, but we stand for something bigger than anything the world can pin against us. We are the voice of peace, and bit by bit, we will change this world. You see, we have something they don't. Oh, sure, they have armies, and they have armadas. But we... we have... OUR DRAGONS!”

“Ohhh I know you’re a demon, no human legs are that skinny!”

“That’s really just a nitwit who forgot to fire proof his butt.”

“Astrid, I had him right where I wanted him.” // “And now he’s right where I wanted him.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a stealth mission?” // “Yeah, they always start that way.”

“Mmm, gorg-e-ousss...Watch the hair!”

“Hang up those saddles and get married.” // Tuffnut: “The M word.” // Ruffnut: “Gross. Unless it’s me.”

“Marry him, please. You’re the only one with any sense around here. With you wearing the pants, there’s still hope.” “Wow, Gobber! Not awkward at all!”

“Hiccup...this is Berk, son. It’s our home.”

“Even Night Furies?” // “Especially Night Furies.” // “Those are scary!”

“Well, we could just take Gobber’s advice and tie the knot. That should fix everything! But hey, if you’re having doubts about yours truly, I’m sure Snotlout is still available.” // “He only has eyes for your mom.” // “OH, playing dirty now, huh?” // “You asked for it...looks like there might be a wedding after all...”

“Okay okay; you win! You always win!” // “You knew what you were getting into.” // “Uh-huh, right.”

“It’s more like a Bright Fury-.” // “A Light Fury!” // “...Yeah, yours is better, probably...”

“Bud, what’s gotten into you? What is all this slobbering and panting?” // “Isn’t it obvious? He’s in love!” // “Trust me, relationships are nothing but pain and misery. (*Astrid lightly hits him*) Ow... What did I just say?!”

“Show these nay sayers, of which there are many, that you are more than just a malnourished runt with bad hair, strange teeth and a twig for a neck.” // “You're-you're really bad at pep talks.”

“I'll give him a piece of my mind. And by mind, I mean fist!”

“Did you miss the part where we almost died? Have you seen my house?”

“Look, I know this is our home - my father left me to protect it. But Berk is more than this place. WE are Berk! The people, the dragons! I say Berk is wherever we go!”

“We have to fight for their freedom.”

“Furies mate for life, you see.”

“Ah don’t mind him - it’s not your fault you have the body of a Norse God. I myself have that same problem.” (Tries to flex, back cracks painfully)

“Who died and made you Chief?” (*everyone groans/Gothi hits him*)

“Can we lose the whole honking goose thing? It’s hard to imagine wedded bliss with that going off every minute.”

“I’ll go with you, for protection-.” // “(quickly) NO...(pause)...you’re far too important here.”

“Oh, now you can draw!”

“Save it for your girlfriend! Go on, get out of here!”

“About that leg...lose the limp, no ones gonna marry that.” // “I have a prosthetic leg!” // “Yeah, and I have a parasitic twin but you don’t see me limping around about it!”

“I feel like how Ruffnut feels every day: dumb.”

“Odin be spanked!”

“I try to avoid looking at her because she gives me acid reflux.”

“If they’re stuck with Ruffnut, I’m more worried about them.”

“I know what you're thinking. You've never had a prisoner this hot.”

“Oops, you let the dragons out! They’re gonna get you, no this ones gonna get you...!”

“Now that’s a king.”

“Dad? Are you gonna get us a new mom?” // “I don’t want another. Your mum was the only woman for me. She was the love of my life. But with love comes loss, son. It’s part of the deal. Sometimes it hurts, but in the end, it’s all worth it. There’s no greater gift than love.”

“Well, you’re right. You’re back to where you started. But I was the first to believe in you, and I have watched you doubt whether you’re worthy ever since. I am the person I am today because of you. I never told you that but it’s true. You’re the bravest, most stubborn, determined knucklehead I know. Toothless didn’t give you that, Hiccup. He just made it...” // “Easier.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?” // “Probably something stupid.” // “That’s the Hiccup I know.”

“You’re right, bud. It’s time. I was so busy fighting for a world that I wanted, I didn’t think about what you needed. You’ve looked after us for long enough. Time to look after yourselves.”

“Oh, Stormfly...my good girl.”

“So long...you big ugly beast. I’ll miss you.”

“Go on, bud. Lead them to the Hidden World. You’ll be safe there. Safer than you could ever be with me. It’s okay. I love you too. And I want you to be free. Our world doesn’t deserve you. Yet.”

“Go, Toothless...Go.”

“There were dragons when I was a boy. Ah, there were great, grim sky dragons that nested on the clifftops like gigantic, scary birds. Little, brown, scuttly dragons that hunted down the mice and rats in well-organized packs. Preposterously huge sea dragons that were twenty times as big as the big blue whale. Some say they crawled back into the sea, leaving not a bone nor a fang for men to remember them by. Others say they were nothing but folktales to begin with. I’m okay with that.”

“He’s not going to eat your father!”

“Legend says that when the ground quakes, or lava spews from the earth, it’s the dragons, letting us know they’re still here, waiting for us to figure out how to get along. Yes, the world believes the dragons are gone, if they ever existed at all. But we Berkians, we know otherwise. And we’ll guard this secret until the time comes when dragons can return in peace.”

#i wish i could put the entire scripts of all three films tbh #httyd #how to train your dragon #httyd 3 #how to train your dragon 3 #httyd 2 #how to train your dragon 2 #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #hiccstrid #snotlout jorgenson #valka haddock #stoick the vast #stoick haddock #ruffnut thorston #tuffnut thorston #quotes #fishlegs ingerman

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bentenharuki · 4 years

Text

I generally don’t do these but...

I will do this because it’s a badge of honor and a thank you for @todayintokyo who gives me a daily vibe out of my second fav Country in the world (first one is my own, of course. My messy, chaotic, genius Italy).

So for everyone interested (I won’t tag people either... if you are among my 250+ readers, do it as freely as you like to share this unexpected hard time along others. Sharing makes us all feel less stranded I guess :))

1. Are you staying home from work/school? Yep. My University (Milano Bicocca) holds in-house lessons and curses and also exams and testing are/will be online. What I miss most are the lab works and the exchanges with foreign schools. I took one a few months ago in London and I was supposed to have another in May but... NOPE, of course.

2. If you’re staying home, who’s there with you? I am alone in my apartment. At first it was supposed to be shared rent with somebody else but then my parents just bought this out and lent it to me. I know. I am spoiled. But very grateful for what I have. I always try to give back the best I can because no one has merits in being born in a family instead of another. (pieces of second-rate philosophy in all my LONG answers courtesy of my mum and her influence on me. She’s a University Professor and her field is.. guess what.. ETHICS PHILOSOPHY)

3. Do you have pets to keep you company? Nope. Not allowed. But I like cats. Cats. CATS. They are elegant, refined, very clean, and they give you consideration and affection ONLY if they like you. I prefer to conquer somebody’s love instead than to have it by default. Then I am naturally a cat person instead of a dog’s. But I like all animals (I like snakes as well, so my range is pretty wide ;)), even though I don’t feel missing any in house. Generally I would be out of home most of the day and no pet would be happy in staying that much alone. I miss my grandparents’ kitty tho :)

4. Who do you miss the most? Family. Friends. Meeting new people when out. And... (is it fine to say it?) Well... in these lockdown times I miss... human touch. (You get what kind). I was seeing a guy when this all started and my old boyf also came back into the picture somehow. All on hold. And I avoid to think how that makes me feel because even in case I’d figure it out, what comes if one can’t act on the awareness? Exactly. So I put it all in a LONG pause. But yeah... I miss contacts. A LOT.

5. When was the last time you left your home? I go out every Thursday to buy all my grocery stuff. I am very methodic. My supermarket is pretty near and it’s BIG and I get there right before it opens (well... one hour almost before it opens, so I can be among the firsts in line). I look like a ninja: very sporty and technically dressed (like for a running competition!) with clothes and shoes which are easy washable, tech mask (it is for cycling competition, with filters specifically medical: the mask is washable as well after you’ve used it, while the filter is obviously not), cotton fit gloves and over them medical gloves (I can’t wear directly medical gloves because my skin is very sensitive and I suffer from nickel allergia, which makes latex gloves a NO NO directly on skin), teck googles which cover also the side of my face (those are from cycling items too) and of course PODS in my ear because I can’t live without music :)

6. What was the last thing you bought? I bought online a few garden tools for my biggest balcony. I have ZERO skill with plants (and I am supposed to become a biologist... the nerve! LOL) but I am keen at making grow at least rosemery for my recipes. I have a little peach tree and it is all fine so far. I have hope I can do better and anyway I have time now ;)

7. Is quarantine driving you insane or are you finally relaxed? I try to keep my routine as it was before. I wake up and perform all my tasks exactly as I was doing before this all started. I am VERY organized and to lax on that would ruin me, so I carefully focus on what I can control the best I can. It feels strange to say it maybe but... this way my mood isn’t particularly affected by this heavy revolution in my (and everyone elses’s) life.

8. Are you a homebody? NOPE. I love people, I love my Milan and its being always full of people everywhere. I love living in my town a TON, I love meeting friends anywhere, go dancing, I love to live my University life in this beautiful and renewed part of Milan; I like being surrounded by my people and meeting new ones. So being stuck at home would seem insufferable for me. But I learnt from this (there’s always something to learn in any experience) that I can be surprisingly ok with staying home too. I came to know better my neighbors. I feel a sense of community with everyone living nearby and I have come to love my domesticity too. It was a surprise for me first ^.^

9. What movies have you watched recently? In Italy, Italia 1 channel has had the WONDERFUL idea to rebroadcast all Harry Potter saga every Monday and Thursday. Today and tomorrow there are the last two installments, so I can say that is what I looked out the most for as in movie things these past weeks (funny how I never particularly adored the books of HP, I mean, I liked them but... being a Tolkien’s devotee Rowlings’ literary efforts always seemed lackluster to me.. and still I have always liked the movies. It’s incoherent I know ;)). But I have Sky at home so I can watch whatever movie I like to whenever I want to. And that leads to VERY little watch actually. I am reading a ton though. I watch what passes on in the National channels actually, out of digital and cable and decide to watch it or not. For instance last Friday Rai 1 (main Italian Channel) broadcasted one of my fav movies from the past three years, GIFTED (with Chris Evans and Octavia Spencer) and I rewatched it with immense pleasure.

10. An event that you were looking forward to that got cancelled? OLYMPICS. I was supposed to be back in Japan with a a couple of friends and my bro for experience the Olympics (especially the volleyball tournaments) between July and August and that got (of course) cancelled. We plan to move it all to next year of course. But it hurts SO MUCH because it was easily what I was looking forward to BEST for all 2020. Hands down.

11. What’s the best and worst thing you’ve had to cancel? Look up. For the other question, I never plan things I don’t like (or at least I try my best not to) and I almost never find myself in the position of being happy for something I had going on which I had to pass due to circumstances. I am a very honest (sometimes to the point of bluntness, though with age I got trained in the fine art of diplomacy, which for me is declined especially in the “IGNORE WHAT IS NOT WORTHY degree) person and if there is something I don’t like I tend to not get involved with it in the first place.

12. Do you have any new hobbies? Eh... the longest list... I love so many things. Sport don’t count as hobbies to me because I treat them as part of my daily life constantly. So take them off. I like to write, to draw, to paint... I like reading, I like learning... I am a tech geek; I like gaming (but that I have to cut it or it would absorb me too much)... I like TRAVELING (that is cut off too of course nowadays), and many other things so I guess I don’t literally have SPACE for new hobbies. My many ones makes it impossible to fall for new things though lately I am becoming a better cook out of needs ;)

13. What are you out of? My lists are made as soon my things become “two items in from having 0″. This way I can’t run out of anything. Did I say already I am a HUGE control freak? THAT ;)

14. What music are you listening to? My itunes collections lists so far 12376 ALBUMS. Then I have the random songs. Latest one I bought (because I buy them all) is Achille Lauro’s latest 16 Marzo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yb-9RESbeWA

I am also listening a lot to one of my bro’s fav bands Radiohead and as usual a lot to my beloved Imagine Dragons. My mum and dad are also telling me to listen to Bill Withers (who recently passed away) whole discography because he was amazing. I love many music genres. I love ALL which makes the spirit soar and rage and evolve and love and cry and hope.

15. What are you reading? So far in quarantine I read 5 books. I have now to start ORIGINS by Dan Brown. I pick the books I have left unread randomly and that was the pick this time (people gift me with books constantly because they know I am a bookworm when I have spare time).

16. What are you doing for self-care? Keep loving myself and life and the world exactly the way I used to before this all started.

17. Are you exercising? Yup. Tapis roulant, golf training, stepper (all in my house lucky me) and mat and weight training. I have a routine for which I have to train at least one hour a day. NO EXCEPTION. I miss swimming but I will do. I am also in recovery after January’s knee meniscus intervention so my schedules are also taking that into consideration.

18. How’s your toilet paper supply? I'm OK. :)

19. Have you made any changes to your hair during quarantine? Nope. I love to stylize my hair but I don’t have specific cuts. It grows long and then I play with them hairstyles: braids, buns, ponytails, partitions and the likes.. But I have bleached hair and I had to follow my hairdresser advice because I can’t allow ugly roots to take dominance of me ^.^ So I bought the necessary to self bleach them. No need to say as soon as I will be able to, Hairdressers and Massages and SPA will be my first destination ^.^ (beside visiting family and friends of course).

I am fairly sure I put lots of typos and mistakes in this but I have my online lesson just starting in 8 minutes and I can’t review this (I generally never do it anyway). So forgive me and have a beautiful day ;)

STAY SAFE OUT THERE!!! Hugs K.

#ask list #wow my first one #and probably my last #covid19 #quarantine #lockdown #italy #milan #tag your friends #coronavirus

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allthephils · 5 years

Text

You Were Only Waiting

Word Count: 8510 Rated T (language, mental health mentions, strangers to lovers) Read on AO3

This is my fic based on this art by the amazing and talented @lovelydeps for the @phandomreversebang. Huge thank you to @wolfstarphan for betaing. You were immeasurably helpful! This was such a lovely and fun team to work with!

Summary: Dan is stranded at the airport and stuck in his head, Phil is just looking for some company. A fic about delayed flights and delayed connections.

Dan’s flight is delayed just enough that he’s uncharacteristically on time. It has improved his mood from incredibly irritable to very annoyed but still, this trip was exhausting. New York is cool but there are just so many people and he’s drained. He’d rather be alone with the friends coming through his headphones than fielding questions from his Uber driver. Apparently, he didn’t get the memo that headphones mean no talking. Janelle and Kevin and Troye understand, they don’t ask anything of Dan.

He’s never been so relieved to step out of a car. The ground is covered in a thick blanket of snow, bringing a magical beauty to this decidedly mundane setting. Unfortunately, inside it’s still an airport. He watches his feet as they carry him across the ugly airport carpet to the end of the security queue. It’s a mess, a labyrinth of twists and turns that feels unending. It does end though and Dan goes through the motions by rote. Laptop out, shoes off, little baggie of travel toiletries into the tray. He stands in the scanner, arms above his head and the TSA agent nods and waves him through. It’s the same every trip. He’s come to accept that the time lost in airports is just a necessary evil, something to get through.

At least he doesn’t have to run. He should get to the gate just in time for boarding. It’s quite a hike though, the airport is huge. This is far more exercise than he’d like to be getting today and the constant drone of voices rushing past in all directions is doing nothing for his mood. It feels like a big American mall in here. Dan hates malls, they’re just big monuments to capitalism. So much wasted space filled with useless plastic junk and cheaply made decadence. He passes a Victoria’s Secret and a store that just sells massage chairs. There’s a very posh jewelry store and a shop filled with designer bags and key fobs. He wonders who drops two grand on a handbag at the airport until he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the glass case and remembers what he paid for his jumper. He picks up his pace, choosing to ignore the voice in his head that says he’s part of the problem.

The gate is purgatory. Close quarters packed with people who would rather be somewhere else and bright unnatural lighting. It’s stifling and Dan wants nothing more than to move on. In a few minutes, the flight will board and he can finally relax. He’s got a guided meditation all queue up and some chamomile tea in his bag, ready to brew. With a deep sigh, he pulls out his phone to get his boarding pass ready. Just then, a notification from the airline pops up. Before he can read the whole thing, the announcement booms out all around him, a long list of cancelled flights, his included. Shit.

Cancelled due to inclement weather. That’s what the notification said, no follow up information, no instructions on what to do next. The website isn’t any help either. He glances around at the crowded room but everyone looks just as lost as he feels. He’s going to have to do the adult thing and actually ask for help. He’ll have to physically walk up to the counter and talk to a real human being, like its fucking 1985 or something. He flicks his hair from his eyes and takes his place in yet another queue.

Soon he’s listening while the guy in front of him demands to know why they didn’t predict it would snow so much and how come they can’t just fly around the storm. The agent shows far more patience than Dan would have, repeating her well worn speech, “We are so sorry for the inconvenience but it is very difficult to predict at this time. You’ll receive notification as soon as we know more.”

The man throws his hands up and Dan softens a bit, knowing the agent is having a much worse day than he is.

“What a twat.” He says as he approaches the counter and she spares a thin smile. “I realize you can’t control or predict the weather but I’m wondering if this likely to be an overnight thing or a booked on another flight in a few hours thing?”

She gives Dan the same answer she gives everyone but he leans forward on his elbows. “Yeah I know, but like, if you had to predict how long we’ll be here...Like just between us.” He musters a sweet smile and an awkward wink that he wishes he could take back almost immediately. Before she can repeat herself again, he apologizes and slinks away.

Dan is stood near the desk, hoping to catch any snippets of news that might come up. There’s nowhere to sit and crawling into a hole isn’t an option so standing will have to do for now. That’s when fate smiles upon him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees movement, someone gathering their things. Thrilled by the prospect of actually getting to sit down while he waits an undetermined amount of time, Dan makes a b line for the soon to be vacated seat. The previous occupant has barely stepped away when he swoops in, nearly colliding with someone who had the exact same plan.

“Oi, sorry mate, I was eyeing this seat.” Dan says, standing his ground.

“Yeah so was I, mate.” He’s pale and lanky, his shoulders hunched over in a painful display of poor posture. He looks like he’s trying to be shorter. If he wants to blend in, he probably shouldn’t have worn a jumper that looks like a lady bird. Dan supposes he’s kinda cute, maybe a little hot, but sarcasm doesn’t look good on anyone. He’s not the least bit intimidating but he’s trying, lips curled up from the snark, wild brows raised. Those blue eyes are too dreamy to be shooting daggers like that.

Dan should look away, he should square his shoulders and pretend he is not to be messed with. This is a snowed in airport, the wild west, he should claim his territory. He doesn’t look away though, he can’t or he doesn’t want to. Whatever the case, his defenses are weakened along with his knees.

“Actually, you take it.” He concedes, “I have too much nervous energy anyway.”

The guy drops the totally ineffective tough guy act. “No, no, it was a draw. Rock, paper, scissors?”

Dan truly believes there are few conflicts in life that can’t be solved with rock, paper, scissors. They draw again and again, both of them laughing at how completely this strategy has failed. On the next 1, 2, 3, the guy pauses and his eyes wander to Dan’s left, his whole face softening. Dan turns to see what brought on such a change and damn. There goes his chance at a restful wait. Just behind Dan is a mum with a very heavy looking toddler crashed out on her shoulder.

“Would you like to sit down?” The guy says sweetly, tripping over his luggage as he moves out of the way. Dan steps aside too and forces a smile though he’s pretty resentful.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Thank you so much!” She looks about his age, like someone he could be friends with. He can’t imagine being stuck here with a child to care for. “Sorry, It’s been a long day.” She says and sits down with a sigh. Dan catches a glimpse of the angelic sleeping face on her shoulder and he’s over it.

Resigned, he walks to the corner of the room and plops down on an empty patch of carpet, facing a big window overlooking the snowy runway. He searches for a hotel and is unsurprised to find every room in the vicinity booked. Headphones back in, he leans forward on the glass and watches the snow fall.

Time doesn’t follow the rules in airports, not when all the flights are delayed and most are cancelled and it’s late afternoon but people are curled up, asleep in chairs. Dan has changed positions roughly 43 times but his restless legs are still nagging him. Funny how being lazy only comes easy when it’s entirely inappropriate.

Standing takes some work, his hips don’t want to straighten up and do the job they were built to do. He’s partially hunched, one hand on his lower back when he sees himself in the window. He looks like an old man, groaning as he pulls himself to stand and he makes a mental note to find a personal trainer when he gets home, and to stop standing near reflective surfaces.

Hoisting his bag onto his shoulder, he shuffles toward the main corridor. The floor is dotted with people who have accepted the long wait ahead, setting up makeshift camps with laptops out and backpacks for pillows. Dan steps carefully through and heads in the opposite direction from how he came, hoping for something better and more interesting than what he found on his way in.

He’s been poised precariously at the edge of an emotional pit all day. Social exhaustion left him vulnerable and in need of time alone in his own space to refuel. That’s not something he’s gonna get right now so the best he can do is to keep busy, try to stave off boredom and loneliness before they spiral into something darker.

This side of the terminal has nearly the exact same upscale nonsense as the other side. Just when he thinks he might scream if he sees one more mannequin in resort wear, a beacon of hope appears. A bookstore, and not an Amazon store, or an airport newsstand but a real, honest to god book store. To be honest, he doesn’t really read much, but he wants to. A place like this is only going to attract certain people, people who think, who want more than the few best sellers available at the newsstand.

It’s small in here, an airport version of a larger, local bookseller, but there are real shelves to walk through and quiet jazz playing. He wanders through the classics, pausing in poetry to pick something up and read a few lines to himself. ...roused up from hole to itching head. Bodies locked shuddering naked, hot lips and buttocks screwed into each other.

Well, he wasn’t expecting that. He finishes that one and pages through to read a little more.

“Hello again.”

Dan nearly jumps out of his skin. He slams the book shut, shoving it onto the shelf haphazardly. Fighting the blush rushing to his face, he folds his arms, defensive. Ready to glare at whoever is to his left, to send a clear signal that he is not in the mood to chat. His head snaps around, eyes narrowed, then he sees him.

“Allen Ginsberg, huh? Just a little light airport reading?” It’s him, the hot guy who gave up their seat for a tired mum. He laughs at his own joke before continuing. “He was always a little dark for me. Have you read D.A. Powell?”

Dan’s eyes are wide as he stammers out a thought. “No, I haven’t read anybody really. I just grabbed a random book. Not really a reader.” Shut up Dan. He knows he sounds like a dick.

“Well, fancy meeting you in a book store then.” This guy doesn’t seemed fazed by Dan’s weird outburst. “I hate these crowds, don’t you? Also hate being alone though. Just trying to find a happy medium I guess. You want some company?” He’s fidgeting now, nervous, but still doing it, still asking a complete stranger to hang out.

“Oh um no. Thanks, I’m good, busy. Sorry.” The words stutter out even as Dan is arguing with himself internally. The guy looks a little deflated but he manages a smile before walking off. Dan has no idea why he said no, why he defeats himself like this again and again, why he’s not kinder to himself, even now.

He’s tired, from residual jet lag and from just living in his head all day. If he doesn’t get some caffeine soon, exhaustion will set in, adding to the dark cloud currently floating above his head. Anyway, if the caffeine doesn’t lift his spirits, coffee shops have a long and storied history for being great places to be sad and alone.

***

There’s one free table. Dan sets his backpack on one of the chairs, ignoring the warning he’s been hearing all day to not leave his bags unattended. He pulls his reusable mug out and soon it’s filled with a steaming hot, mediocre latte. He puts his feet up, headphones in, and searches for an anime to catch up on. As the end credits roll on his third episode, he cracks his neck and looks around, stretching his arms above his head. There’s a long daunting line of people and behind, towering above everyone, a flash of jet black hair.

Dan thinks maybe he was wrong about how big this terminal is because this guy just keeps popping up. He’s shivering, his hands wrapped tight around the coffee he just picked up and he’s scanning the room. God, he’s really good looking, and tall, no one is ever tall enough. There are no tables left, Dan knows that but he looks over his shoulder anyway. He should talk to him. How often in life do you get a second chance, much less a third? The guy’s eyes move from table to table until they land squarely on Dan.

Dan wears a a thin, nervous smile but there’s some good solid eye contact. He is really proud of himself for that eye contact. He lifts his feet off the chair opposite him and sits up straight in his chair, gesturing an offer to sit.

The guy looks the room over one more time and Dan doesn’t blame him. He couldn’t have made the best impression. He doesn’t try to hide his heavy, resigned sigh before weaving through the maze of tables to where Dan sits.

“This is prime real estate. You sure you don’t want to sell it to the highest bidder?” His teeth are practically chattering as he speaks.

“I’m a socialist.” Dan says, sipping his latte.

“You’re in a Starbucks, mate.”

“I’m at an airport, I’m doing my best.” Dan watches him sit, searching his mind for something to say. It’s been ages since he flirted. Does he even want to flirt? All he knows is this guy is so cute and he’s the sort of person who gives up his seat to a tired mum. Dan’s not sure he even would have noticed her, lost as he’s been in his own mind. And he’s already proven himself patient with Dan’s bullshit.

“Um, Phil.” Dan says, reading the name written on Phil’s cup. “Your lips are a tad blue. Are you feeling ok?”

Phil takes a long drink from his cup, wincing because it’s still too hot. He rubs his lips together then cups his hands over his mouth and breathes into them, warming himself. “How do you know my name?”

Dan reaches over and taps the side of Phil’s cup. “Don’t change the subject. I’m genuinely concerned about your lips.”

“I have that effect on people. The moment you meet me, you start thinking about my lips.” Phil’s smirk hides behind his cup as he attempts to breathe in the warmth.

It takes Dan a moment to catch up. He sits staring for a solid three seconds before his eyes crinkle with surprised laughter. It’s the first laugh he’s heard from himself today, the first genuine laugh he’s heard in a while. He’s not totally aware of the way his shoulders drop but he arches his back, stretching again, surprised how much better it feels this time.

“Also, it’s very cold outside.” Phil sits back in his chair now that the shivering has passed.

“Outside?” Dan can’t fathom what he means but that but Phil just keeps drinking with a barely discernible nod.

“Like outside outside? Like where the snow is coming down and blowing sideways?” There is genuine concern in Dan’s voice.

“Yeah that’s the one.”

“Why did you have to go outside?”

“I didn’t have to. I had some time to kill so I made some snow angels.”

“Why?” Dan’s lip is curled in something that looks more like disgust than he intended.

“I like snow.” Phil says, unaffected.

It’s mildly annoying the way he doesn’t see anything unusual about this scenario. Dan sits up abruptly and leans forward. “Ok, so your stranded in the airport for god knows how long and instead of getting a hotel or going to the bar, you went all the way outside, through security, to play in the snow?”

”I mean, I actually just went to be in the snow. Catch some flakes on my tongue, see the lights reflect off the white. It’s really settled out there. You can hardly tell it’s an airport loading zone, it’s looks so pretty.” Phil tilts his head as he speaks, looks to the window, even though it only looks out on the ugly airport corridor.

“There were these little kids watching the snow through the window, they waved at me and I waved back. They had their noses pressed right up to the glass. I was pretending to slip and fall and all that and they were laughing. But then I actually fell, right on my bum. So I made a snow angel for them.” He stands and takes his jacket off, must be warming up a bit. “Just putting it out there, snow angels are the least fun thing to do. I got snow all up inside my jacket and my hands are frozen. Might not be dressed ideally for literally laying in the snow, my ass is soaked to the bone.” He laughs a little to himself as he sits and goes back to sipping.

Dan’s mouth has dropped open a bit and he stares. He’s pretty sure Phil is the good kind of weird but he studies his features looking for signs to the contrary. All he finds are the prettiest lips and something oddly comforting in the dark centers of his eyes.

Phil’s watching him too, just drinking his coffee and watching, wearing a coy little smile. It’s a reaction to his staring, either judgement or flirting or just a smug acknowledgment that Dan can’t or won’t look away.

The quiet should be unnerving. Dan has conditioned himself to fill every moment, with sound or image or information. It prevents him from ever really feeling alone, from being alone with his thoughts. It’s not unnerving though, he just feels, calm. He wonders what sort of break through he could have if he wasn’t so afraid of being in his head, if he let his mind wander. It’s then he realizes his mind is wandering now and maybe this is some sort of gentle breakthrough of it’s own.

“Where’d you go?” Phil asks.

He hopes his expression hasn’t given away the micro crisis he’s having in his head. Pulled from his introspection, he smiles thinly.

“Sorry. I tend to drift off during awkward silences.”

“Awkward? I didn’t think it was awkward,” Phil says. “How often do you get to do nothing like this?”

Dan shrugs, a little guilty. So much of what he spends his time on feels like nothing.

“You know, you didn’t have to invite me to sit down. If I’m bothering you…”

“No, no. I’m sorry.” And he is sorry, really sorry. He wants to be friendly and flirty and easy to talk to. This guy is really sweet and cute and it’s not awkward, not even a little. Dan can’t explain why he always goes on the defense.

“You aren’t bothering me. I’m just kind of a dick sometimes.” Dan heaves a breath, dredging up some courage and mumbles, “I’m actually really glad you showed up.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Phil says with his hand to ear.

Dan rolls his eyes and quickly spits out, “I’m glad you showed up cuz I was really bored and we’ll probably be here all night and you’re really nice so thanks for not writing me off when I acted like a twat.”

“Which time?” Phil asks but he’s smiling. “You’re welcome.”

It goes quiet again and Phil stands suddenly. “Alright, we need sugar.” He walks off before Dan can protest. Normally, Dan would pick up his phone, cycle quickly through all his social media so he doesn’t miss anything. He gets as far as picking it up but it just sits in his hand unattended. His eyes are otherwise occupied, following Phil’s long legs as they carry him to the pastry case. They’re good legs, pretty legs that end in wide hips and a nice round ass. His lip has somehow found it’s way between his teeth when Phil glances back. There’s a beat before he realizes and looks away, rather conspicuously.

When Phil returns, he hands Dan a snowman shaped cookie and makes a toast to snow.

Dan taps his cookie to Phil’s, “we’re toasting to snow? But that’s why we’re stuck here.”

“Exactly.” Phil says like it’s obvious. Dan savagely rips the head off of his snowman then thanks Phil around his mouthful.

Phil laughs softly. “Ok, Dan. Snog, marry, avoid. Mario, Link, and… um, the king of all cosmos.”

“Excuse me, the king of what now?”

Phil’s eye grow wide, his mouth open in genuine shock. “The king of all cosmos? Do you even video game? Katamari Damacy?”

“Yeah I know, obviously.” Dan sinks down in his chair a bit. “Kill Mario, marry Link, fuck the king.”

“Really? You’d kill Mario. I could never do that after everything he’s done for me. Also he’s handy.” Phil takes another bite, speaking through crumbs that he wipes away with his fingers. “He’s literally a plumber. He could fix stuff around the house, total husband material.”

“Ok fair.” Dan says, “but Link is brave and humble, he’d be a great life partner. And I grew up with him. Also he’s left handed so we could both use the same scissors.”

“Wow. Nerd alert.”

Dan sticks his leg out under the table to gently kick Phil’s leg. “Shut up, look who’s talking.” Dan’s voice goes high pitched, mocking. “Oh, Mario’s done so much for me.”

Phil laughs out loud, a proper laugh, head tipped back, hands clapped together. It’s a good, warm laugh that wraps Dan up like a blanket. Any remaining angst hanging on to the edges of his psyche lose their grip and all that’s left is an unfamiliar contentment.

“Ok, ok, I think we’ve established we’re both massive nerds.” Phil says, popping the lid off his coffee and dipping his cookie in what’s left.

Dan is a man of extremes. When his guard comes down, it comes all the way down.

“And who would you fuck Phil?” He’s hears his own voice in exaggerated slow motion as heat spreads across his cheeks. His palms are sweaty now, his stomach in his throat. What the hell did he just say? This is why we can’t have nice things, Dan.

Phil seems to be considering his response, slowly sipping from his cup, his lips clearly fighting off a smirk. He catches Dan’s eyes and sucks his bottom lip for a drawn out moment before showing him mercy and moving on.

“Link, obvs.”

Dan clears his throat and tries to act natural. “But the king...that package.”

“I don’t know, I like someone a little younger, not so beefy.” Phil takes a moment then quickly adds, “I’m talking about like, young adult link. Of course.”

“Of course.”

If Phil was trying to break the ice, it worked. The conversation flows easy after that. Dan could talk about video games all day, a topic just impersonal enough to loosen him up. Eventually he’s sharing some of his most embarrassing stories, stupid shit he did at uni and the time he got sacked from a DIY shop for selling an axe to a little kid. Phil laughs at every story and Dan is prepared to dig deep into the repressed corners of his mind if he can keep hearing that laugh. And it seems every story he tells earns him an equally embarrassing and far more amusing story from Phil. Dan is literally wiping away tears as Phil tells him all about a squirrel that bit him right in the Florida.

They both catch their breath when the laughter finally fades and they slip back into quiet. With nothing left to drink, it is a little awkward this time. Dan’s not sure what to do with his hands or where to rest his eyes. He checks his phone.

“No news?” Phil says to a quick shake of Dan’s head. “You want another round?”

“I think I’d better switch to herbal tea.”

Phil moves to grab Dan’s mug but Dan stops him. “Let me. What’s your poison?”

“Caramel macchiato?” Phil says, a little sheepish and with a nod and as kind a smile as he can muster, Dan walks away.

“Sweets for the sweet.” Dan says as he sits down and hands Phil his drink. Their fingers brush as Phil takes the cup, his eyes looking softly into Dan’s. It seems Dan isn’t the only one who’s let his guard down.

The table is small. They’ve both had their legs tucked back this whole time. As he scoots his chair in, Dan’s knees bump Phil’s and it’s clear he’s unfurled them into a more relaxed position. His instinct is to pull back but his body has proven to ignore his better judgement when it comes to this new variable. He lets his foot slide between Phil’s so their legs are slotted perfectly together. Neither of them acknowledge it, holding still to keep from touching more than incidentally.

The conversation continues and they both open up more than makes sense for strangers in an airport. Nothing feels real anymore, time is suspended with no end in sight. Maybe it’s that or maybe it’s the relief of letting go a little bit or maybe it’s just Phil. Whatever the catalyst, Dan feels safe, not something he feels often.

Phil talks about his grandma, his brother, his failed attempts at heterosexuality. Dan’s topics are broader but the political is personal to Dan, and Phil seems to understand that. Time stretches and the nods turn thoughtful, the laughter sweeter. Moments of empathy are punctuated with bumps and nudges under the table. When the next lull comes, Phil shifts his weight. Dan watches as he lets his head lean to the wall next to his chair. His eyes look heavy.

“How can you be tired after all that sugary coffee?” Dan asks, shaking his head.

“Not tired,” Phil says, “just relaxed.” His legs follow the lean of his body, taking one of Dan’s with him. He hooks a foot around Dan’s ankle, coming to rest there.

Dan let’s one dimple peek out but he doesn’t move his gaze from Phil. “Comfy?” He asks, with a hint of mirth.

Phil nods, his crooked lips soft. “This is nice. And I’m enjoying the view.”

Dan looks over his shoulder. Yep, hideous airport corridor, lots of grumpy people he’d forgotten about entirely. “What view? What are you on about? Are you aware that you often speak in riddles?”

“I don’t know.” Phil moves Dan’s leg under the table. “I feel like I’ve been pretty clear.”

Dan’s heart does a somersault and he huffs a nervous laugh. Nervous again after such an easy talk, but it’s a good nervous. The kind that comes from the promise of something good.

Phil isn’t subtle, he wears a cocky grin that says he knows exactly what effect he’s having. Dan’s feels an urgent need to kiss the smile right off of that smug little mouth. He wants to grab the tip of Phil’s tongue that’s poking through his teeth and pull it. He imagines he’d taste like a coffee milkshake and his mouth waters at the thought. He could spring right across the table, charged as he is. Now they’ve stopped chatting, the energy between them just sits, an electric tether holding them there.

Dan can’t help his mind going to the physical first, it’s not often he’s this open with anyone, much less someone he just met. Some piece of him wants to grab ahold of that hint of intimacy lest it get away. What he really wants is to just get closer, to wrap his arms around the beautiful friend he’s found and not let go.

Phil’s phone is vibrating on the table but he doesn’t notice, his focus is on Dan, gaze moving from his eyes to his mouth and back again.

“Brah, you’re blowing up.” Dan says in far too smitten a tone.

“Hmm? Oh!” Phil takes a quick peek and puts the phone to his ear. “Hi love. Nah, still here.” He stands, points to the exit to let Dan now he has to take the call, and walks out to lean against a wall of lockers.

To Dan’s credit, he doesn’t spiral right away. He starts silently rehearsing ways to ask for Phil’s number. He doesn’t even know where he lives, as deep as they got, they kinda bypassed the everyday stuff. Maybe he should just write his own number down and hand it to him. Except he definitely doesn’t have a pen because who carries a pen anymore? He could ask the barista but then they’d know and they’d be watching and it’s hard enough to be bold without an audience much less with one.

He looks over his shoulder, trying to appear casual. Phil looks so cool leaning like that, beaming and chatting. Dan wonders who he’s talking to, someone close enough to call ‘love.’ It’s taking a while and he looks really happy. Dan realizes Phil never actually said he was single. Sure, he seemed interested but he was just looking to find some company for the wait. This is probably just what friendship looks like to Phil, socially awkward but strangely confident Phil. Of course he’s taken, he’s funny and smart and he listens. He probably has someone waiting for him, someone cool and quirky who reads poetry and plays Katamari Damacy with him. Someone who doesn’t wear plain black jumpers that cost hundreds of pounds even though they were made in China. They probably know he’s a flirt but they don’t care because he’s coming home to them.

“Sir,” There’s a barista standing at the table. Dan has no idea how long he was lost in thought, ignoring her. “So sorry but we will be closing up in about 5 minutes.”

“Yeah, ok.” Dan stammers, embarrassed as always. “We’ll, I’ll clear out. Sorry. Thanks.”

She takes the trash from the table and Dan pulls on his hoodie and backpack. He throws Phil’s jacket over his arm and grabs the handle of his suitcase, rolling it behind him. Phil is humming affirmative responses to whoever is on the line but not talking much. He takes his jacket from Dan with a smile of thanks and a roll of his eyes. He mouths the word sorry.

Dan waves the word away. He mumbles something about needing to find a place to get some rest though he knows Phil can’t hear. The only thing worse than walking away from this well of potential would be to stand here and fidget, listening while Phil talks with his boyfriend only to have to say an awkward goodbye afterward. He points over Phil’s shoulder at nothing in particular and Phil sort of nods though he looks confused. Dan’s heart has no right to crack like this. He barely knows Phil. That tether though, it’s got some strength to it. He swallows hard and walks past Phil then just keeps walking. He just keeps walking, waiting for the tether to snap.

He turns the first corner he comes to and finds a lounge. People are curled up asleep on the benches. The sound on the tv is muted. He moves to the far back corner and lays down on the floor, resting his head on his back pack. His headphones are in, a movie queued up on his phone, he’s right back where he started. At least he got to pass the time with someone. It was a nice moment out of reality. So he was attracted to him, it’s not a big deal. He’s attracted to people all the time, it never goes anywhere. There’s no reason it should be different this time, no reason he should feel a dull ache in his chest. It’s totally irrational and unrealistic to think that anything could come of a random meeting like that. It was just a few hours with a friendly stranger.

Twenty minutes later, just when he’s settled into a position that is almost comfortable, the movie pauses and notification pops up. Dan has been booked on a new flight and if he wants the seat he needs to check in at the gate, like now.

The waiting area is still full but the settled resignation of earlier in the day has turned to frustrated exhaustion. Blurry eyed travelers stand, gripping their phones, close to the counter, watching for some glimmer of hope that they’ll get home soon. The paper boarding pass in Dan’s hand feel like a winning lottery ticket and he tightens his hold, imagining the vultures who would swoop in if he were to drop it. He knows it’s irrational, he’s booked, the seat is his but he feels undeserving in light of all these folks waiting. He’s looking down, embarrassed at his good fortune, as he turns to find a place to waiting for boarding.

Two steps forward and he hears him, “Are you kidding me? You’re on this flight?” It’s Phil and he sounds none too pleased to have run into Dan once again.

“Oh hey Phil.”

“Hey Phil?!” Phil sounds angry now, his voice low and controlled, “Hey Phil?! Are you mental?”

That stings. He could deflect, point out the problematic nature of Phil’s choice of language, but he stays quiet.

“That was bloody rude. I thought you’d gone to find a place to sit but I turned around and you were gone. You could have said a proper goodbye.”

“You were on the phone.” Dan’s stomach feels sour at the sound of his own voice, his own immature, cowardly voice.

“Yeah. I was.” Phil’s eyes are right on Dan but he doesn’t meet his gaze, he’s staring at Phil’s shoes. His voice softens, “I was really excited Dan. We have a lot in common and I was gonna get your number and like, you just left.”

“Well, it’s not like you came to find me.” Dan really wishes he would shut up and stop sabotaging every good thing that happens to him.

“Came to find you!” It comes out loud, clearly louder than Phil intended as he looks around and clears his throat before speaking again, this time in a loud whisper. “You chatted me up for hours, flirting with me, letting me flirt with you and then left when I was on the phone so you didn’t have to deal with rejecting me!”

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet then.” Dan says, defeated, “So why bother confronting me?”

“Because I had a good time, Dan. I really did. A better time than I had any right to with a total stranger.” Phil runs a hand through his hair.

He does that when he’s frustrated or nervous. He fidgets, he can’t stand still. Dan knows this about him, he learned it along with the fact like he likes his coffee unreasonably sweet and has a stupidly high tolerance for caffeine. He learned that he sticks his tongue between his teeth when he’s delighted and that he’s delighted a lot. He knows that he’s flirty and confident even though he’s clumsy and messy and has a really weird sense of humor. He knows that his weird brand of conversation meshes with Dan’s uncommonly well. He knows he’s unashamed. He’s a lot of things Dan isn’t and the lump in Dan’s throat is rudely pushing him to face the fact that Phil never would have ditched Dan like that.

Dan swallows hard. “Ok yeah, you’re right. It was really fucking rude of me to leave. I’m sorry. But I wasn’t avoiding rejecting you.” He heaves a sigh, hoping the force of it will push the words out. “I was avoiding being rejected by you.”

“What? I was so into you. How was that not obvious, Dan?”

Dan shrugs and mumbles something about a boyfriend on the phone.

Phil laughs a laugh that’s not at all amused. “That phone call was my friend Louise.” He says flatly, “She literally had a baby today. A fucking baby, Dan. I couldn’t bloody well cut her off in the middle of her birth story.” He flicks fingers through his quiff, laying it down and then picking it back up. “Stomach churning as it was.”

Dan feels sick. He wonders how long he’s going to let his negative self talk make him miserable. He knows there are things he has to forgive in himself, that he can’t help some of it. But he also know the parts of him he hides behind and he wonders how much his low self esteem would improve if he stopped leaning on it like a crutch. His eyes sting, embarrassment and exhaustion are making all of this seem insurmountable.

“I’m really sorry Phil.” He tries to look at Phil but turns his head, too aware of his wet eyes. “I got scared and I didn’t think I had a chance with you. I fuck these things up, I told you.”

With a moment of static, first class boarding is announced.

“That’s me, Dan. I have to board.” Phil doesn’t sound angry anymore, just tired. “This has been a weird day. We were strangers yesterday. But I know a few things about you now and since we’re standing here, fighting like boyfriends, I’m gonna go ahead and overstep one more time.” He reaches a hand to lay it on Dan’s arm. “It’s a heavy weight you carry around with you. I know how that is, Dan. And I’m telling you from experience, life is so much more enjoyable if you let someone else help you carry it once in a while.”

With that, he turns and walks to the doors, hands his boarding pass to the attendant, and disappears down the jetway.

Dan wipes his eyes before they can betray him with actual tears.

***

Sipping his subpar whisky sour, Dan let’s the soothing voice in his ears guide him through step by step relaxation. His legs are heavy and relaxed, the only thing he has to do right now is breathe. In for a count of 5, out for a count of 8, in for a count of 5, out for a count of 8. With every inhale, soft blue healing light spreads through your body. What color is your blue? The color of the sky? The sea? Phil’s eyes. Definitely Phil’s eyes. Dan shifts in his seat, shaking his head as if to dislodge the image from his mind. He takes a long drink of his cocktail, heaves a breath and tries again.

It’s time to get over it. Soon, he’ll be home and settled back to his routine, alone in his flat, back to real life. He tries to do to follow the voice, to do the breathing thing. When a thought enters your mind, acknowledge it, without judgement and let it go. There are a million thoughts in his mind and a million judgements. That was a dick move. He was really great and you just ditched him. Why are you such a coward? You can stop thinking about him now.

With a rather violent jab of his finger, he quits the app, switching to music. He shoots back the rest of his drink and closes his eyes but regret gnaws at him until his stomach is an empty pit, twisting a constant reminder that he’s lost something.

He’d walked past Phil’s row on his way to his seat, carefully avoiding eye contact. He looked sad, this would be easier if he’d stayed angry. At the risk of looking like a dejected lover in a romantic comedy, he makes the rash decision to go talk to Phil. Before he thinks too deeply, he throws off his seatbelt and moves to stand, only to find himself face to face with a stern looking flight attendant.

“I’m sorry sir, but I’ll need you to take your seat. With this turbulence, we have to ask that you stay seated and buckled for the duration of the flight or until the safety light is switched off.”

“Oh, um. My friend is in first class and he gets really frightened on planes.” He searches his mind for a story that will elicit some sympathy. “I’m really worried about him with this turbulence. Can I just go check on him please?”

“I’m afraid not, sir. I apologize but it’s for everyone’s safety.”

Dan presses his lips together, accepting his fate but just as she walks away, he speaks up again, “Oh, excuse me.” She turns with a forced hospitable grin and looks at Dan expectantly. “What about a drink? Can I buy him a drink? Send it to his seat. His name’s Phil, third row window seat, handsome, black hair.”

“If he’s in first class, his drinks are complimentary, sir.”

“Oh.” Dan looks down at his hands. “Then can you just bring him one? Say it’s from Dan?”

There’s a long exhale that reveals just how long her night has been before she nods gently and says, “What sort of drink did you have in mind?”

“Do you have hot chocolate?” Dan smiles up at her, grateful for her patience. His dimples really do come in handy at moments like this.

A tiny smile blooms on her overworked face and she leans in a bit closer, “Ok, hot chocolate from Dan. I’ll bring him an extra blanket too.”

With his hand to his heart, he thanks her, it means it more than she could know. The next thing he’s aware of is the same flight attendant’s hand on his shoulder, waking him up. The flight is descending and he needs to turn off his electronics.

By the time he’s shuffling down the aisle, first class has long since departed. Dan walks quickly, ready to be done with airports and travel and new people and places. He’ll get a car, headphones in, and soon he’ll be curled up in bed. He can sleep all day. There’s nothing he’s late for, no one waiting for him.

It’s terribly bright outside and Dan is personally insulted. He was counting on London gloom to validate his mood. He pauses next to the taxi queue, eyes on his phone, music in his ears, calculating the benefit of getting an Uber over jumping into one of these waiting cabs.

“Dan!”

“What the fuck!” Dan jumps, his heart races off down the road without him and he pulls his headphones off.

Phil giggles behind his hand. His other, on Dan’s shoulder, is warm and heavy and works wonders to calm Dan’s flight or flight freak out.

“Sorry. I said hi like three times.” Phil says, trying to curb his laughter. “Maybe you should turn your music down, mate.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t sneak up on people.” He’s reeling from exhaustion and emotional whiplash.

“Thanks for the hot chocolate. And the blanket.” He moves to rub the back of his neck in a classic display of Phil nerves.

“No problem. Hope it made your first class seat tolerable, you poor soul.”

“Hey.” Phil’s smile is so subtle it’s barely there, his eyes fixed on Dan’s, “I like nice things.”

They stay like that, inches apart, just looking at one another. It’s freezing out here but neither of them can feel it.

“You wanna share a car? I’m in north London.” Phil hasn’t looked away, he sounds like he’s talking to himself, his voice quiet and directed nowhere in particular. Dan nods and they both turn. The guy managing the line ushers them into a cab, taking Phil’s luggage and Phil gives the driver his address. It makes sense for Dan to be dropped off first but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to be the one walking away this time.

“Did you have a good flight?” Phil asks, small talk seems the only way out of this tension.

“It was ok. You?”

“Yeah. I mean, first class.” Phil worries his lip and Dan can’t take it anymore. He can’t take the unknowns and the regret and the stupid magnetic attraction he feels toward this person. He’s looking right at Phil’s mouth, it must be so obvious, and he’s telling himself, do it, just do it. His heart is in his throat, his stomach in knots, sensations that usually elicit a firm nope from Dan. His stock reaction to this fear is to run but he can’t run, they’re in the back of a taxi right now. If Phil pushes him away, he’ll just get out and take a bus. Dan’s breath is coming out in huffs, still watching Phil’s pink mouth as his lip slips free of his teeth.

A hand comes to rest on Dan’s leg, just above his knee. He startles a little and his eyes jerk quickly down to make sure he didn’t imagine it. The tether is taught, it’s either gonna break or he needs to grab hold of it and pull, hard.

So he does.

He leans forward too fast, his lips collide with Phil’s too forcefully, but Phil slides his hand behind Dan’s neck and leans into him till they find a perfect balance. Soft but urgent, they push against each other, Phil’s tongue dipping in between Dan’s teeth. Just enough to connect them but with room for so much more. They move with each other, unhurried until they feel the car pull to the curb and hear the driver clear his throat.

“One second.” Phil says as they pull apart, “let me get my bag.” He hands the driver his card and opens his door, climbing out to wait for his luggage to be retrieved from the boot. Dan gets his phone out and sets up a contact for Phil to fill in. He leans into the open door but before he can speak, Phil crouches down.

“You coming?”

“Sorry?” Dan replies.

“Are you coming up?” Phil always seem to think people just know what he’s talking about.

“Up? To your flat?”

Phil nods, “Everytime I lose sight of you, you run off. I think I’d like to keep you close if it’s all the same to you.”

“Don’t you need to sleep?”

“Yeah, and so do you.” Phil says, matter factly, “So come sleep. With me.”

Dan could honestly say that nothing has ever sound better.

*****

It’s been a long time since he woke up next to a stranger. It’s been a long time since he woke up next to anyone, unless you count Colin, Dan’s family’s dog who shared his bed when he went home for Christmas. It’s a little alarming at first, feeling an arm draped over his middle as he makes the slow climb to consciousness. Reality sets in as his eyes blink open and survey unfamiliar surroundings. The room is unmistakably Phil, the plants, the books, the sentimental trinkets. It’s welcoming and homey, this is exactly how Dan would have pictured Phil’s room. It is odd to feel like he knows this stranger so well. He’s not a stranger though, not really.

Gently, Dan lays his hand over the one resting against his belly. The body behind him is solid, pressed up tight. There’s so much intimacy in spooning. He closes his eyes, willfully rejecting any evidence of daytime that might be streaming through the window. He wishes it would snow now, right here in London; a wild, never before seen blizzard that would strand him here in this flat. The whole city would shut down, lives would be disrupted, but it all sounds worth it if it meant he could stay here just a little while longer. Maybe if he’s very still, his big spoon won’t wake up. He really hopes he doesn’t. If he wakes up, they’ll both be thrust out of the liminal space where they found each other and into purpose and schedules and wretched real life.

There’s a sleepy huff of a breath against his neck, and the arm around him pulls tighter for a moment. It might just be his dire need for human connection but this feels so good, being held like this. He wants to turn over so he can look at his face, nuzzle into his neck, wrap his arms around him, but he won’t risk bringing all of this to an end.

“You’re warm.” Phil’s voice is a low rumble against Dan’s back. It reminds him of the furnace coming on in the early mornings when he was kid, the promise of comfort that would stay even when he threw the blankets off. “What time is it?”

“Almost 2.” Dan says after reaching to the bedside to tip his phone into view.

Phil hums his acknowledgment and snuggles in closer, inhaling deeply with his nose tucked into the short hairs at the back of Dan’s head. “You smell like my shampoo.”

Dan is still but for his fingers. They push between the one’s underneath them and curl around to ensure that hand is staying put.

“Do you need to get up?” There’s a squeeze in his heart as he asks until he senses Phil shaking his head no behind him.

“Don’t go.” Phil says, so quietly it takes Dan a second to register. “It’s not enough yet.”

“Not enough sleep?” Dan asks.

“Just not enough.” Phil says and Dan feels a quick, soft kiss on the back of his neck.

“Go back to sleep, Phil,” Dan replies, calm spreading over him, a lightness he hasn’t experienced in so many years. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Soon, the embrace isn’t quite so tight and the breathing behind Dan is slow and steady. Sleep won’t come back so quickly for Dan, it’s just not how he operates. The sound of Phil breathing becomes a meditative soundtrack and he replays the last 24 hours, finding the moments, committing the details to a deeper place in his memory. There’s a small voice in his head that says he’ll want to tell this story later.

End.

#phanfic #PRB #myfic #You Were Only Waiting

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lammermoor-lace · 5 years

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I really hate my parents, my mom especially. I don't know, it's just that you'd expect them to be more careful when discussing things like weight, being fat, eating too much etc. They KNOW I'm vulnerable when it comes to these things.

Today for example I wore shorts for the first time this summer to go out with my father, and as soon as I left the house I immediately started feeling like shit. I felt how ugly I looked.

And then my dad basically tricked me into meeting with my former gym's owner, whom I'd been avoiding for months in order not to let him see the change my body has gone through since I left the gym. I literally wanted to die afterwards, but he didn't even notice the tears on my face... which were not very subtle, I guarantee it.

Then tonight we were talking again, and my mum was saying that she'd like to go to the pool or something, and I half-heartedly said something along the lines of: “not before I lose 5 kilos”. At which point she said that no, I should do both things instead: go to the pool with her AND lose 5 kgs.

I felt horrible. How could she say that to me? How could my own mother not understand that I needed her to say that I look fine just as I am, that losing weight would be unhealthy and completely unnecessary... which is the DAMN TRUTH.

I am NOT overweight, I know this. In fact, losing about 2 kilos would put me in the underweight range.

And even if it didn’t, well, I’ve fucking lost at least a year of my life to ANOREXIA, fucking hell. How’s everyone forgotten about that already? I surely haven’t. And lately I’ve actually been feeling very conflicted, because I kinda want to starve myself again, just to feel in control, in the hope that it’ll make me beautiful again (as if there ever was a time when I was beautiful...)

The thing is that everyone in my close family is stick thin, literally. They eat whatever and never gain anything. I'm the only one so far that has struggled with being a little bit softer and plumper since a young age, and that's beacuse I'm fucking emotionally repressed and I eat to compensate the lack of valuable relationships, the misery & pain, the self-hatred, the insecurities which have been crippling me since I can remember.

They don’t understand how I feel. My mum isn’t capable of actual empathy. She sincerely doesn’t care, maybe even thinks it’s funny, I don’t know. She’s certainly at peace with herself about this. After that answer she gave me I immediately stopped talking, went to bed and cried like an idiot, muffling the sounds so that nobody heard.

How do I learn from my past? I know that relapsing isn’t gonna take me anywhere. It’s not the right thing to do.

But on the other hand, gosh, I just want to punish her, to show her how bad her indifference can hurt her daughter. But then again, I know that she’d make up some sort of excuse in her mind (the cognitive dissonance is strong with this one), and wouldn’t feel any guilt for my situation.

It’s just... I understand that the only real solution for me is to move beyond my family, to emancipate myself from them, look for love somewhere else. They’ve shown me many times now how they can’t give me what I need. They’re the source of most of my problems; they can’t solve them. It’s just logical.

But I feel bad for giving up on them, they’re my parents. I can’t believe they would hurt me in such a way. If I didn’t care about them, I wouldn’t hate them this much.

In the end, I’m alone. And I’m lost. What should i do with myself?

I let go of all my childhood dreams: I don’t draw, nor sing, nor write poetry anymore. I’ve killed those passions I had, for them. Because they were afraid that I’d pursue them, and never get a serious job, become delusional and frustrated or something.

And sooo here I am. Studying law at university, getting the (usual) excellent grades. If I keep this up for another 4 years I’ll get a master’s degree in Law, and then I’ll be on my way to a prestigious job of some sort, I guess. Sounds fun.

This is all they hope for me. Not that I love myself. Not that I feel beautiful. Not that I find friends, or love. They never cared about these things, and as a result I never considered them important as well.

I’ve always been weak, I think. I find it hard to stand by my own ideas when others have different opinions. I always doubt myself.

How do I stop, then, being my own worst judge, and become my own independent lawgiver?

#personal #tw: anorexia #woah look at me being shamelessly vulnerable on main

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weartirondad · 6 years

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The minute Tony stepped through the doors of the elevator a piercing scream hit his unsuspecting eardrums and his hands immediately reached to cover his ears even as his mind matched a meaning to the sound. His hands changed path and instead went to the watch on his wrist, activating a gauntlet that covered his right hand in the blink of an eye.

“Pep?”, he called out cautiously, raising his armed arm when he turned the corner to the living space. He could’ve cried in relief when his wife replied even if the high-pitched screaming continued.

“We’re alright.” A pause and then more soothingly, “Shh, baby. It’s alright. Daddy’s here now. You wanna say hi to daddy?”

The nanites retreated into his watch before they could scare his daughter and once the big brown eyes found him, she reached out her arms, calling for him.

“Hey baby”, he greeted her with a tender kiss to the forehead. He settled her on his right hip and gently bounced her as she sniveled into his neck, small arms holding on to him tightly. “What’s wrong?”, he asked her. She simply shook her head and pressed closer into him.

Hadn’t Pepper watched them calmly, albeit looking exhausted, he wouldn’t have been able to stop the anxiety slowly rising in his chest. Knowing that she wouldn’t be this calm if there was an actual threat, he tried to calm his beating heart and sat down next to his wife who brushed his lips in a quick kiss before dropping a long kiss to their daughter’s head.

“What’s wrong?”, he whispered, never stopping his slight swaying while his hand kept drawing soothing circles into Morgan’s red hair. Her pigtails were a mess and when she leaned back a little bit to rub her eyes with her hands, Tony could see her tear-rimmed eyes and tear-stained chubby cheeks. Her lip was still trembling but she held on to her mum’s hand tightly when she reached out for her.

She squirmed until Tony let go of her and sat her down on his lap, where she curled up into his chest immediately.

“I don’t wanna be ugly, daddy”, she whispered, pressing Pepper’s index and middle finger to her eyes to stop the tears that were still evident in her voice, even though Tony couldn’t see her face.

Whatever he had expected, it hadn’t been this.

From the very first moment they had laid eyes on her, they had known she was the most beautiful being in the universe and they had made sure to tell her so every single day. She had never questioned it, had never even been shy when all her various aunt and uncles had gushed about her or when Peter kept telling her that he would never find someone as beautiful as her when she asked him about a girlfriend. He couldn’t fathom what had triggered this but he swore, if it was something someone had said, than he was going to kill that person dead. No one would ever get away with hurting his daughter.

“You’re not ugly, baby”, he told her, turning her in his lap so he would be able to see her better but she refused to look up at him. Putting his index finger under her chin, he tipped her head up slightly until her glassy eyes met his. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, remember?”

“I was the most beautiful girl”, she told him, her lower lip stuck out and trembling. “But I’m never gonna be beautiful again.” At that she shut her eyes tightly and turned into Tony’s palm who caressed her cheek gently. “No pretty girl wears glasses.”

Glasses?

Over Morgan’s head his eyes met Pepper’s who nodded with a small sigh. “We went to the doctor today because Morgan had a headache when I picked her up from daycare and Mrs. Hudson told me she kept squinting at things. She’s hyperopic and trying to accommodate her eyes all the time ended up hurting her head. She’s gonna have to wear glasses for the foreseeable future.”

He felt hot tears dripping down his right hand and moved his left hand to brush a few loose strands of her fringe back from her sweaty forehead.

“You’re never ever gonna be ugly”, he whispered, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. “You are wonderful.” A kiss to her cheek. “You are beautiful.” A kiss to her other cheek. “And mommy and daddy love you so so much.” One last kiss to her forehead.

A giggle slipped past her lips and she scrunched up her nose when his goatee tickled her skin and although it still sounded wet, it was a lot better than the heart-wrenching cries he came home to. “And Petey?”

“And Petey, too”, he smiled widely. “Do you want to know a secret?”

Her little head wobbled up and down, her still glassy eyes wide with excitement at the prospect of hearing one of dad’s secrets.

“Daddy used to wear glasses all the time when he went outside”, Tony told her in a conspiratorial whisper. It was surreal that this little ray of sunshine didn’t know about the Tony Stark façade that he used to put up for everyone outside his comfort zone. While he still did that. While the world still didn’t really know the real him – and he’d rather keep it that way – he had stopped trying to hide so much ever since she had come into their lives. He wanted, needed, to be a better man for his daughter.

“They were really cool.”

“Really, daddy? Why’d you stop?”, she asked, frowning up at him. Her little fingers were still curled around Pepper’s and she alternated her questioning looks between her parents. “Did your head get better?”

He grinned, leaning back into the couch and dropping an arm lazily over the backrest, right behind Pepper. “I didn’t need the glasses”, he told her, “I just wanted to wear them because I liked them.” And because his eyes had always been too telling, a too direct link to his heart, in this cruel world.

Tony felt Pepper press a kiss to his shoulder when she leaned into his side, wiggling her fingers in Morgan’s grasp, and he felt a wave of gratitude rush through his body at having this wonderful family when he had never believed something like that could ever be in the cards for him.

His little girl didn’t seem to be convinced, though, because she simply scrunched up her nose – something he was about eighty percent sure she had picked up from her big brother – and cocked her head to one side, trying to figure it out. “No one wears glasses just because they’re cool. No one likes glasses”, she told him matter-of-factly.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Pull up some of my greatest glasses-wearing hits up, please.”

Thankfully he had baby-proofed the AI’s settings before Morgan had ever met the bodiless voice and thus only the socially acceptable pictures started playing on the TV screen in front of them.

While Morgan, who had climbed into Pepper’s lap to get a better look, watched the pictures, talking about them a mile a minute, he leaned back in content and watched her. The only evidence of her tears were her clotty lashes and the reddened skin around her eyes where she had rubbed them with her hands. But her eyes were shining with the childish joy and excitement that he had grown used to and every once in a while she let out a giggle at one of the pictures.

“Oh wow, those are ancient!”

All three of them turned around when they heard Peter’s voice and immediately Morgan jumped down from her mum’s lap and scurried over to the older boy, reaching up at him until he picked her up and she could wrap her arms around his neck.

“Petey!”, she exclaimed excitedly into his neck, before turning halfway to the TV screen, “Daddy used to wear glasses!”, she told him, her forehead crinkling in a frown, “Did you know that? He says glasses can be cool. Do you like glasses?”

Peter pressed a kiss to her temple and started walking over to the sitting area. “Hello to you, too, Mo”, he smiled down at her, “I think Dad’s glasses are pretty cool. Why? Don’t you like glasses?”

When Morgan didn’t answer for a while and returned to watching the pictures again, still with one arm wrapped around his neck, Peter turned his questioning look to Tony and Pepper.

“Morgan is going to have to wear glasses from now on and she’s scared they’ll make her ugly”, the latter replied with a sigh and then a small smile, “I’m happy you’ll be here over the weekend. Maybe hanging out with her big brother will take her mind off of it a little.”

They stayed like that for a while. Tony pulled Peter into a side hug to the best of his abilities with Morgan still clinging to the kid and started carding his hand through the slightly longer than usual curls, watching in amusement when Peter started doing similar motions on the base of his daughter’s neck. The kid told them about college and how much he enjoyed bunking with Ned but how glad he was to be home every other weekend. He usually alternated his home visits between staying with Tony and staying with May, though usually all of them ended up at the tower for sleepovers and family movie nights anyway.

The slide show continued – even Tony was surprised how many different pictures there were of him in glasses – and Morgan relaxed again after a while, trying to get all of her brother’s attention by telling him every little detail of her day and about the cool colorful glasses that were so much better than the boring ones she had to wear.

“How about we go out for ice cream!”, Tony suddenly interrupted them, an idea forming in his head as he watched their kids cuddled up on the couch. “We could make it a family trip and we’re all going to be wearing cool colorful glasses!”

Pepper grinned at him with a little shake of her head but Morgan had perked up at the mention of colorful glasses. “You’re gonna wear glasses, too, Daddy?”, she asked, staring at him wide-eyed over Peter’s shoulder.

“Of course I’m going to wear my cool glasses”, he told her, leaning forward to brush a few loose strands behind her ear, “And we can color your glasses, too, if you want.”

“Really?”, she bounced up and down on Peter’s lap in excitement, “Are mommy and Petey gonna wear glasses, too?”

“Of course! Everyone’s getting cool glasses!”

And so it was settled.

Tony started getting to work on coloring one pair of glasses Pepper and Morgan had already bought while Peter was charged with dressing both himself and his sister into an outfit cool enough to match their hip glasses (although Peter kept telling him that no cool person would ever call themselves hip).

It didn’t take much more than twenty minutes before both kids came rushing into his lab, laughing so hard they were both panting. Morgan jumped up on the couch and didn’t even wait for her dad to show her the upgraded glasses before shoving a dark blue t-shirt into his chest.

“We picked something out for you, too”, she told him, her cheeks flushed from their sprint and chubby with the big smile she was still wearing.

The billionaire merely raised a questioning eyebrow at Peter who had plopped down next to the girl and matched her grin as he shrugged innocently. They were both clad in dark blue hoodie jackets that were closed in the front but they sat there with their hands on the zipper as if they were about to reveal the next Eiffel tower.

Only when he unfolded the shirt and stared down at the huge capital T at the front of it, did they undo their hoodies, grinning at him so smugly that he needed a minute to put together a logical explanation for Morgan to be wearing a pink ‘Q’ and Peter to be rocking the dark grey Pi symbol on his chest.

“Really?”, he asked them exasperated, though he couldn’t help but chuckle at how happy they looked just then.

“Yup”, Peter grinned, proudly pointing at Morgan, “It was Mo’s idea and we originally wanted to give it to you for Father’s Day but we thought it’d be really hip if we could twin. Complete with glasses and all.”

Tony shook his head even as he stepped forward to encircle both kids into a big hug.

If someone would’ve told him some twenty years ago that he would end up having a family with two kids, who made him wear part of a pun on his chest in public, he would’ve rolled his eyes so hard they would’ve been permanently stuck.

Now though?

Now he felt his chest swell with pride and love for both kids as they stood in the living room, all wearing their t-shirts and glasses to match. Peter and Morgan had left their hoodie jackets hanging open while he had opted for a dark blue blazer instead.

Tony held Morgan on his right hip, his little girl leaning her head against his shoulder as she smiled brightly, eyes shining behind her green tinted glasses. His other arm he had slung loosely around Peter’s waist, while the boy grinned down happily at his sister, eyes covered by a pair of yellow tinted sunglasses from Tony’s collection.

“Okay, guys. Smile!”, Pepper called out and he pulled both kids just a little bit closer, keeping his once trademark stern look for the camera for a total of ten seconds before he burst out laughing at Morgan and Peter trying to outdo each other pulling faces.

In that moment he wanted to tell everyone who had ever said otherwise, that it was possible to fit your whole world into your hands because as long as he could hold his family in his arms, there was nothing more he could ever wish for.

“So, anyone wants ice cream?”, he asked and almost dropped Morgan who tried to leap forward with an excited squeal. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

pic by @lieselfh

story by @josywbu (ao3 I FF.net) more awesome stories on AO3 and FF.NET

#irondad #dailyirondad #tony stark #peter parker #spiderman #ironman #j&fcollab #a family of fashion icons #josis fic #fanfiction #fanart #irondad fic

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hanyeongeun-blog · 5 years

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The Magic of A Year

I feel like I did a lot of self reflecting this evening, and as a result I’ve had to make a lot of hard decisions - primarily decisions that will ultimately: force me out of my comfort zone, force me to face realities I’d rather ignore - including the ugly sides of myself - and in the long run, force me to distance myself from some unhealthy obsessions I have.

I think the hardest part of it all was realising that sometimes, even the things that make you happy can be bad for you in excess.

I’ve always been a believer in the phrase:

“Everything in moderation”

but the hardest part about this is figuring out where it’s right to draw the line. Today I realised, that the idea of ‘moderation’ I’d deemed okay, was actually far worse for me than I’d like to admit.

Even though I’ve realised that I need to change, I know it’s not going to happen over night, and it’s not going to be easy. However, I also know that no matter how bleak things look now, so much can change, even in a time as short as a year.

Exactly one year ago today, my mum kicked some nightmare tenants out of our old home. Since then, she poured money into it, fixing the place up - it was honestly a nightmare because as always, she tried to look for a bargain and ended up costing herself more - but after a few gruelling months, the house was on the market. Then it was a waiting game, and boy did we wait, and wait, and wait.

At times things felt hopeless, there were no viewings, and every hopeful ended up finding something else; it just seemed like the house was never going to sell. At one point, I forgot about it all together, I’d stopped hoping and praying each night for the house to sell, and I was just back to living my everyday life as I had been. I’d also forgotten all about what it would mean for us if that house did sell.

But today, exactly one year after this journey began, my mum came into the kitchen and hugged me and we screamed because that godforsaken house has finally sold. Honestly, for a moment I felt so overwhelmed that I almost cried (I didn’t for the record though.)

Anyway, what I realised is, we started that year tired - tired from her nightmare tenants and the eviction process; but then we were hopeful, that doing up the house and putting it on the market would make a change. At a time, I was frustrated, because things weren’t going to plan, costing too much and taking too long, and by the time the house was on the market I was more exasperated than anything. After a couple of months of it being on the market with no buyers, I was hopeless when really I should have just been patient, and eventually that hopelessness turned into complacence and I forgot about it all together.

Yet, at the end of it all, here I am, hopeful again. Excited. Expectant!

And more than anything, at ease.

Selling this house is literally going to change our lives.

Another thing happened today that made me realise the magic of a year too.

I’d spent pretty much my entire morning and early afternoon watching BTS at the MAMAs, and to finish off the entire show, they won the Artist of the Year daesang - to my surprise they were bawling. I thought it was ironic, how what seemed to obvious to us, their fans, was such a big honour and surprise to them?

That is until however, Jin mentioned how they had spoken about the possibility of disbanding earlier this year.

Now, anyone who uses any sort of social media, or knows anything about pop culture, know that BTS blew the hell up this year. Debuting at the BBMAs, winning an AMA, releasing a ridiculous number of albums and collabs, their first US #1, their first world tour with a European leg and their first stadium performance; even their first Grammy nomination. This year was very much so, that year for BTS.

But I realised they weren’t crying because they were happy to win the award, they were crying because they remembered a time when they were going to give this moment up and all the other amazing moments I just mentioned. They were crying because they had been scared before and were finally at ease. They were crying because this year could have been so very different.

Any ARMY would tell you that BTS have looked so much happier in the second part of this year, but I wonder - would they have looked this happy if they decided to disband earlier this year? Would they be as at ease?

The point I’m making is, so much can change in a year; change for the better.

The fear I feel now about the changes I’m going to make in my life, this crushing overwhelming feeling I carry around with me every day, and the sadness I feel about letting go of something that really and truly makes me feel safe and happy, because I realise now that it’s more so crippling co-dependence and obsession.

In a year’s time, I want to believe that all those things can be nothing more than a distant memory and that I’ll also be at ease.

#musings #lessons learned #magic #one year challenge #BTS #self development #mental health #obsession #codependency

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ollyarchive · 6 years

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LET IT BURN: YEARS & YEARS

With Years & Years’ second album ‘Palo Santo’, Olly Alexander is smouldering away all negative energy and shaping communities from the dancefloor.

By El Hunt on 27th April 2018

Years & Years’ ringleader Olly Alexander - clad in a magnificent pair of PVC overalls; his second costume change of the day - is currently milling around an East London photo studio, thoughtfully munching on cookies, and discussing Mariah Carey in great detail. The megastar pop icon has hit the news this same week after speaking publicly about her bipolar disorder diagnosis for the first time, and Olly’s quick to commend her bravery in letting down her barriers. “I think it would be nice to believe that pop stars and famous people are just incredibly happy and fabulous; that they move glitteringly through the world, and that everything they touch turns gold,” he reasons. “But it’s a fantasy. Actually, I think vulnerability - and being able to be vulnerable - is a sign of real strength.”

You sense that Olly Alexander lives by these same words as he navigates the landscape of being a pop star in 2018. In the three years following Years & Years’ rapid rise to the highest echelons of the charts, Olly has gradually morphed into something of a public figure, too. A prominent spokesperson on mental health and LGBT activism in particular, Olly dedicated the band’s landmark Glastonbury show in 2016 - which took place roughly a year on from the release of their debut album ‘Communion’ - to pride, promising to “shove a rainbow in fear’s face” in an emotional speech to the assembled crowds. A year later, Olly took a camera crew back to his unassuming hometown for a moving BBC documentary titled ‘Growing Up Gay’, and was very honest in discussing his experiences with bullying, eating disorders, and anxiety. ‘Palo Santo’ - Years & Years’ second album - is a continuation of this, combining ridiculously overblown, brilliantly lavish sci-fi landscapes and gigantic pop ambition with an amped-up sense of honesty, and a space-reclaiming edge that defies the presence of negative energy. Today, Olly observes that one of his chief goals as an artist is to write the songs that would’ve lifted him up as a teenager still searching for a community.

After spending several years moving around the country living next to a variety of theme parks - the singer was born in Blackpool, where he lived next door to the Pleasure Beach, before moving down the road from both Alton Towers and Staffordshire’s Drayton Manor - Olly Alexander and his mum settled into rural Gloucestershire life when he was thirteen. Trading in the garish Blackpool illuminations for the distant glimmer of the Severn Bridge, it was a drastic change in pace .“It always gets described as sleepy, Coleford,” Olly grins, having swapped his neon-orange PVC vest and chain necklace (another of today’s outfits) for something a little more practical. Up until it became the hometown of Years & Years’ frontman, the small market town boasted a ukulele expert as one of its most famous residents, and was perhaps best known for being the location of the world’s only Ribena production plant. It wasn’t exactly the epicentre of queer culture for a teenager searching for a community, especially given that the nearest gay bar - Flamingos - was thirty miles away in Bristol, and located the other side of a toll bridge.

“I was actually too scared to go to Flamingos,” Olly remembers, laughing. “I love that as a name for a gay bar. Flamingos!” he announces, with grand intonation. ”[Coleford] was never a place that felt connected to anything queer when I was growing up.”

“I did like growing up around trees and fields, pretending I was a fairy,” he adds, chirpily. “I enjoyed getting that experience.”

“Being able to be vulnerable is a sign of real strength.”

Rather than heading to the now-closed Flamingos (R.I.P), Olly surrounded himself with a sea of pop bangers growing up instead, worshipping at the altar of Christina, Britney and TLC. And speaking of worship, he also remembers taking notice of another prominent community in the town: the church next door to his house. Though organised religion wasn’t his bag, the strange rituals - decorating an orange for Christingle, reciting the Lord’s Prayer at his local Church of England primary school - proved intriguing. Later in life, he’d grow to view songwriting as a cathartic and mysterious kind of healing ritual, as well as noticing odd parallels between a church’s sense of belonging, and the celebratory freedom that exists in a space filled with dancing, thrashing bodies, and filthy, sexy pop.

As Years & Years were starting to etch out the first strokes of ‘Palo Santo’ at the beginning of last year, Olly explains he was “newly single”, and reading a lot of books in his spare time. Besides taking on the mammoth task of conquering David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, he also picked up Andrew Holleran’s cult novel Dancer From the Dance; set amongst New York City’s LGBT disco scene in the 1970’s. As well as being flamboyant and fun - presenting a campy, fabulous surface world that’s soundtracked by The Marvelettes and Sister Sledge - it’s also a heartbreaking read, documenting the “psycho-sexual drama” of desire, and touching on both loneliness and immense inequality. It’s a double-edged sword that also exists in ‘Palo Santo’.

“It talks a lot about how the club is like a church; a church for gay people to go and dance, and I was like, yes!” Olly says, excitedly. “This is putting into words how I’ve been feeling for so long, and what I’ve been trying to communicate in music. It really inspired me to write a lot,” he says. One song on ‘Palo Santo’ directly credits the book as an influence. ‘I breathe the rituals of the dancer’s dance,’ Olly sings on ‘Sanctify’.

“When I see dancers, their body is their medium,” Olly notes. “The art is their body. What an amazing embodiment of creativity, to literally be your limbs and your expression and movement! I’ve always been enchanted by dance,” he says. “Plus, I think a pop video should have dance in it, too. It’s a prerequisite! A bit of choreography! You want that fantasy moment where everybody’s going to burst into dance. Some choreo! I just think, if you can’t do that in a pop video, where can you?”

Such considerations rule on ‘Palo Santo’, an album that pushes every last bold facet of pop to the maximum extreme. Set in a high-concept, futuristic world which plays on traces of real life to sneaky, allegorical effect, it also sees Years & Years more fearless than ever. One pulsing highlight, ‘Hallelujah’ dives straight onto the dancefloor to find healing in letting loose, while Olly’s current favourite ‘Lucky Escape’ confronts the more unlikeable aspects of our own emotions. “It’s such a petty song!” he reasons. “I was quite sick when I recorded the vocal for it, and I can really hear when I listen to the song that I’m not feeling very well. I don’t like the person that’s saying those words in a way, but it’s an honest reflection of what I was feeling at the time. I’m proud to put that on there.”

“I’ve always been enchanted by dance.”

Over the past three years, Olly says, he has started to realise that pushing his own boundaries reaps creative rewards. “Putting yourself in an uncomfortable position - in terms of the creative process - it usually means you’re going to get something worthwhile,” he adds. “I really had to get past the levels of pettiness…. sometimes it made me laugh. I’d be writing a song when I was so angry at my ex boyfriend. I would never want to present this to the world, where I’m just this bitter ex who’s still hung up on him!’ Olly admits. “[But] actually, sometimes we are hung up! It’s an ugly, but also truthful and beautiful, side to our humanity. I had to be okay with it.”

Another standout track called ‘Rendezvous’, meanwhile, contains hints of Jennifer Lopez’s euro-banger ‘On the Floor’ (“it does!” Olly exclaims in agreement) and explores hook-up culture, along with unpacking his immediate feelings as a relationship draws to a close. “After a relationship you think, maybe the things they did weren’t as well intentioned as I thought they were?” Olly says. “I was in my petty, angry phase. I have had a lot of experiences with guys where the sex has felt like this depressing inevitability. We’re gonna meet up, and we’re going to have sex. That’ll kind of be it, and then onto the next person. What’s happening in that interaction, and what happens in that interaction when it’s someone you want more from?” he asks, pausing. “I also just really wanted to write a song called ‘Rendezvous’!” he adds. “I think I’d smoked a really big joint before I wrote that song, so there’s that, too. Beyonce would have a song called ‘Rendezvous’ and she’d kill it! She has ‘Deja Vu’, of course. Britney loves a French moment, too. With stuff like that, you just need conviction.”

Conviction is a world that springs to mind easily when you’re talking to Olly Alexander. As well as his commitment to sharing his own experiences with unwavering honesty, this new era of the group feels like a step onwards from the anonymous throngs of bodies that once grabbed at Olly way back when the band released their video for ‘King’. Performing solo gyrating routines for a panel of extra-terrestrial judges as Years & Years returned with ‘Sanctify’ - a bit like a filthier Strictly Come Dancing if it were set in an alternate universe - it’s the very definition of conviction. And with his bandmates Emre Turkmen and Mikey Goldsworthy also taking on a slightly different role this time around - acting as behind the scenes production wizards and, as Olly puts it, “his musical husbands” - there’s a sense that he’s also careful when it comes to handling his newfound platform responsibly.

“What is the point of a pop star in 2018? What should they be saying?”

“What is the point of a pop star in 2018?” Olly asks nobody in particular. “What should they be saying?”

Heading into ‘Palo Santo’ with the aim of creating a record that tackles the intricacies of belonging in a world that feels increasingly dangerous and fragmented, the band crafted an entire fictional landscape to explore the darker grit. “It felt too monumental, hard or depressing to set everything in our real world,” he reasons. “I thought a lot about where I could make a place where we take out all the rules surrounding gender identity and sexuality. I thought, well, why don’t we just have everybody be androids?” Olly laughs.

“I’ve always loved artists that take people to their mad world with them, like Bowie, Prince, Gaga. I thought, I want to do something like that, and go as big as possible,” he concludes with resolve.

In ‘Palo Santo’, Years & Years have done just that, flinging open the doors on a vastly ambitious universe that ignites life’s bullshit in a blaze of euphoria. Infiltrating the mainstream with dagger-edged pop - and doing it in fantastical, glittering style - Olly Alexander might just be the most important pop star we have in 2018.

#articles #years & years #yearsandyears #photo shoots #photo shoot #olly alexander #diy #cover #interviews #news

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gentlemanmendes · 6 years

Text

Dead Air 03:

01:

02:

03:

Relief floods through my body when I see the sign signalling that I am entering Dawn River. I smile to myself and feel my posture straighten. Suddenly I am motivated to continue walking even though it is well into the hours of the night and I have been walking for a good three hours. For once I regret my decision to quit the cross country team in the ninth grade. I've always been the athletic type but long distance had never been my thing not to mention the fact that I tend to give up on things easily. I like things that can both start and finish quickly so I can get them out of the way. When I can't see how long I have left is when I tend to become pessimistic towards projects. Seeing the sign of Dawn River meant that I was almost there. Right now I had no clue where there was but I knew that it had to involve food. My mother and father have always fed me well and made sure I had three proper meals with snacks in-between daily. Walking for more than three hours having not eaten anything since dinner the night before was making me hungry. Right now I would have given anything for just one of those chocolate chip cookies I tried to eat this morning.

Now this morning felt like a life time ago. It's funny how this time yesterday I thought my biggest problem would be waking up too early, little did I know where I would end up in twenty-four hours. I follow the familiar signs of Dawn River trying to find my way to the main street of town where the small market place and stereo type diners and cafe's can be found as well as a few shops lining the street.

Sharp pains rise through my stomach and I would give anything for the watch that my mum had given me for my sixteenth birthday that is sitting in its box in the top draw of my beside table in my bedroom never having been worn once. When I had gotten it I plastered on a small for my mum's sake but I had secretly wondered why she had wasted her money on it when everyone has a phone for the time, besides she knows that I have never been one for accessories, but right now that watch seemed like the perfect present and I hate myself for being too selfish to wear it. As soon as I get home I will put it on and never take it off again.

The town is dead silent which is not surprising considering majority of the town are old and most likely don't stay up later than seven- thirty pm. My dad taught me how to drive through these very streets one night when I was bored. My mum of course wasn't happy about it but my dad insisted that was how his father had thought him and that I would be safe and deserted. River had sat in the backseat and played the role of dj while my dad calmly talked me through what to do. After that we had driven to the closest McDonalds' and sat in the car park eating ice-cream while he told me what I should work on.

A sigh of relief escapes my lips when I turn into the familiar main road. But then I am hit with the reality of everything being closed this late at night. In small towns everything shuts before the sun even goes down leaving absolutely nothing to do at night but sit at home. But something sure is better than nothing and my grandparents lake house is two far of a walk, especially at this hour of night when I am beyond tired and hungry to the point I am sure I will collapse onto the hard, cold pavement beneath my feet that I am struggling to walk along.

Not long now, almost there, I tell myself as I continue walking down the street. There is a diner that I am positive is still open at this hour of night and is the only place in Dawn River that stays open 'till late. My Grandma had brought me here when I had gone through my first broken heart. I had been crushing hopelessly on the boy next door since I was nine years old, five years later I had managed to work up the confidence to tell him I liked him only to be rejected hard. Lesson learned the hard way to give anyone the pleasure of hurting you. My Grandma bought me a chocolate milkshake and comforted me for two hours while I cried and then promised she wouldn't tell my parents about it, I don't know why but I was just too embarrassed and didn't want anyone to know how much of a loser I was. The funny thing is I don't even remember the guys name, I did everything in my power to block that out. Who wants to be hunted of bad memories from their past?

The lights are on inside the diner causing me to smile to myself in triumph, finally something was going right today. My pace quickens as I walk up the footpath towards the entrance to the diner. With the last bit of strength I am positive I can conquer for the night I push the door open and am immediately hit with the cold air the air-conditioner is letting into the room.

The diner has not changed a single bit since the last time I was here. The sane horrible pink walls paired with a black and white tiled floor, same yellow bar stools and red booth's. It had been just as cringe worthy as last time. I had never been one for bright colours which to my disliking this diner was filled with them. I'm not sure if the pictures framed on the walls of cars and random dogs are new or I just didn't notice them last time but whichever scenario they should be taken down, they almost look worse than the pink walls. If anything I think the pictures distract the eyes of the ugliness of the colours on the walls.

The second thing I notice as I continue to walk through the diner is that it is completely empty, not a single customer or worker.

"Hello." I call out hoping to gain an answer. I am suddenly reminded of a scene in a horror movie where the axe murderer comes out and kills the helpless character off.

As I walk through the diner trying to find any sign of life in the diner I recall something I hadn't taken notice of until just now. All night; on the highway, through the town, on the main street, and now here in the diner, I have not come across a single sign of life.

In my panicked state I begin to back away slowly from the kitchen as though a threat was waiting for me behind the door.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes au #au #fantasybook #fantasy story #au book #au story

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xseildnasterces · 3 years

Text

the reckoning.

Yesterday I had the most wonderful day. I felt so at one with nature and just free and happy. I cannot even fully explain the feeling. It was genuinely some form of euphoria.

I have this thing that I have got from my mum. Whenever I am somewhere new, regardless of whether it is whilst travelling, or if I am living somewhere new or re-exploring somewhere I look at a map and always seem to find something geographically that I feel a pull and a draw to. This is what happened with where I went yesterday. I have been looking at this certain part of DC for a while. It is a strange triangle that sticks out and has a ‘end’, a final point that you can go right to the edge of the earth (ground) to. I have been determined to visit this place for a while but have never got off my butt to do so, so yesterday I decided it was the day to do it. I laced up my ugly little trainers, packed some water in my backpack, looked up the directions on my phone, put in my Airpods and set off. I really did feel euphoric. Once I got out of the city and into the area, I was heading I found myself walking alone down grass banks, through tree groves, through flowers and surrounded by blossom trees. I was never far from civilisation which made me feel safe, but I was alone for long enough to be able to take off my mask. I felt so happy. I was on a high and had no care in the world of who may be looking at me. I found myself wandering through the trees and the open spaces with my arms out just experiencing some form of magic. Everything felt magical. Everything felt free and I just felt so ‘home’. I passed people sat alone with nothing but a camping chair, paint, and a sketch pad. I passed a couple laying down on a blanket and as I reached the final point of land there were people everywhere. I put back on my mask as there was a carpark there so most people came all the way to the end to fish, picnic, BBQ and just spend time with friends and family. It made me feel happy to feel some form of normal. The grass path I had been following cut across the very tip of the point of land I have been aiming for, so I went off path to ensure I walked to the very edge. I looked out into the ocean (tidal basin?) and found myself laying on the grass drinking my much-needed water. I called my phone whilst I sat in the sun and we video called so I could show her where I had found myself. We chatted for a while before it got too hot and I needed to start walking back. I followed the grass around so that I didn’t head back the same way and found myself wandering through more grass banks, some between roads as I got closer to the city, under and over bridges and again through flowers that just cover the city. I finally got home a good few hours later. My feet were sore from not wearing the right shoes, but I felt wonderful. Almost 9 miles in total and I felt happy. I cannot explain how important nature is to my happiness. Just being outside in the sun among nature is honestly the way to my heart, and right now I am very happy to shower myself in love by taking myself on nature dates. It was just such a wonderful day. It is certainly my new favourite place here and I intend to head back there again and find a small quite spot to lay in the sun and read a book. Bliss. And yep, euphoria. Oh, and I saw my first wild racoon! I know they are classed as a pest, but it was so cute, and I really wanted to see one in the wild so it made me happy!

Today wasn’t quite as perfect. I woke up with horrendous anxiety. I don’t tend to get wake up anxiety very often anymore, but this morning was horrendous. I couldn’t get up. Thankfully Finnish class was cancelled so I could stay in bed longer, but I was in a constant state of panic, couldn’t clear my thoughts and couldn’t get back to sleep either. I finally did fall asleep but forgot to put my phone on silent and Sky News decided to send me an update. The phone was next to my face and it scared me half to death setting off a panic attack and another wave of horrific anxiety. I eventually got up and got ready to get my eyebrows done. Yep, finally, after however long I no longer look like Charlie Simpson. I set off a little later than planned which is when a saw an old woman staring at me. I don’t know why, but I really do tend to attract all the really strange and odd people around, and not in a good way. I was listening to music and hoping that would keep her away, but nope. She began waving at me and stopped me. I turned off my music and she asked if I would take a photo of her outside the church. She told me everyone had already left – I forgot it was Sunday – and that she wanted a photo. I’m not sure why, but whatever floats your boat. She handed me an old disposable camera which brought back a lot of memories from growing up and I took a photo for her. I went to hand it back as I was losing time and needed to get going, but she then said she had seen some flowers nearby and wanted a photo with them to. I felt awkward so couldn’t say no. I followed her in the opposite direction that I needed to go until she finally found the flowers, she wanted a photo with. I stood there feeling awkward whilst she dropped all her bags on the floor and started climbing through all the flowers. Just barging through them all so she could stand in the middle. Then she dropped her coat and picked it up more than once, then went to hang it on a railing and it fell off again. I took the photo as she pulled her mask down grinning. Good deed of the day done. I handed the camera back to her and she asked me if I would go to church with her, I said, ‘no thank you’ and she told me I should go to church sometime. I smiled and walked off thinking ‘hell no’ and got a sprint on. Thankfully I got to my appointment in time and left feeling so much more confident and happier. It’s crazy how much something like getting your eyebrows can perk you up. I just felt better in myself and decided to take a longer walk home. I ended up somewhere I had never been before and found a new part of the city I want to explore! More nature, and a river! The sun just lifts my mood so much. I like walking in the sun. So, all in all it wasn’t a bad day at all, even though the streets really are beginning to fill with people again. It’s getting busy and that makes me anxious, but I guess we shall see what happens. At least I’m vaccinated so I don’t feel quite as worried as I did before. That reminds me, that’s one of my 2021 goals crossed off the list! Vaccinated against covid-19! At least for now, until we need yearly booster shots, but hey. That’s life.

I FINALLY watched ‘Tipping The Velvet’ yesterday. I remember when I first became friends with S she would go on about it all the time and how I must watch it. Period drama and lesbians...? YAS! For some reason I just never got around to it, but last night I decided to watch all three episodes and I loved it so much. It started and I thought it wasn’t for me. I didn’t think I was going to be able to get into it due to the narration, but I persevered and I’m so glad I did. I really enjoyed it and now I want to read the book, as well as ‘Fingersmith’ also by the same author, which has also been made into a TV mini series, so that has been added the the list!

I am currently feeling incredibly back in touch with my witchy self in so many ways, and I have so many things to write about regarding that, but I think I need a full post for it. I feel as though something has reawakened inside of me and without a better way of expressing it, it feels like a ‘calling’. I am very much deeply becoming more involved in witchcraft and remerging myself into that magical world and loving every minute of it.

Final note, Rise Against have a new album coming out in June and I am EXCITED. I’m also hoping this means a tour, and if it does… I shall be going – even if I have to go alone. I missed them in Frankfurt, and I will sure as hell not be missing them again.

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

Alaska's Christmas Extravaganza ~ Hobnob

AN: You know, i love this time of year but people seem to really miss the true meaning of Christmas. I felt obliged to put it into context for the lovely folks at home. Lets have a look at some reviews shall we?

“The spelling was ok.”- Daily Mail

“There was a good attempt there.” -The Sunday Times

“I think i need to watch the show before getting any of this sweetie.” -My Mum

I hope Shangela reads this and finds the strength to win AS3~ Hobnob

–The scene sets in a small living room, adorned with various Christmas ornaments strung up around the mantlepiece. A crackling log fire fills the air with a certain smell akin to the time of year, and occasionally spits the odd ember onto the beige carpeted floor. An artificial tree in the far corner emits a low hum as it partially lights the dim room. Three individuals inhabit the area, sitting on a rather worn looking sofa whilst watching BBC news in ugly Christmas sweaters.–

Jinkx: Alaska you little shit.

Alaska: Hiee.

Jinkx: The nextdoor neighbours said you smothered their Christmas tree in faeces and ate their dog.

Alaska: (Gnawing at a bone) I can’t help it. Christmas is shit.

Jinkx: (Getting up and turning the telly off) You’re gonna have to go get it together before we go to my nans Christmas party on Saturday.

Alaska: If you make me go i’ll set her milky eyes on fire!

Jinkx: Jesus christ Alaska thats messed up.

Alaska: Yeah well you’re jewish. You don’t even celebrate Christmas.

Alaska: Christmas can suck my wang!!

Roxxxy: (Speaking up with a mouth full of mince pies #thickandjuicy) Sounds like you need…the spirit of Christmas.

Alaska: The spirit of Christmas?

Roxxxy: Didn’t you know? Legend says Shangela has the ability to grant unlimited holiday cheer with a single holy halleloo.

Alaska: Gay.

Roxxxy: (Sobbing, but continuing to eat) Its not gay Alaska!

Roxxxy: And you’d better find your Christmas cheer before Jinkxseses nans party.

Alaska: I don’t see it for me but ok.

Jinkx: I won’t have you ruining it like last year.

Alaska: Wasn’t that bad.

Roxxxy: You killed 5 salvation army workers with a decorative star.

Alaska: And I’d do it again!!!

Alaska: I couldn’t care less about that party. I don’t care for Christmas. Tiny Tim can contract ebola!!

Roxxxy: (Checking her casio sports watch) I’m late for the bus guys gtg. Bingo is in half an hour.

Alaska: Hmmmm…the spirit of Christmassssss🤔🤔🐍sssounds gay…

–Alaska gets up and walks to the window. The snowfall isn’t all that heavy as small flakes are illuminated by a street lamp with lewd drawings carved into the side. She could drive around to find the Shangela, except she owned a BMW, and rear wheel drive is shit in winter so she’d probably crash into some schoolboys on their way home.–

Alaska: Jinkx i need a lift.

Jinkx: I can’t, my cars in the shop.

Jinkx: you keyed the entirety of Aja’s Valentina speech on it last week.

–A shadowy figure in a Santa hat approaches the window and taps the glass with a skeletal finger.–

Ru: It’s me, God!

Ru: Wait.

Ru: It’s me, Rupaul!

Alaska: Rupaul? I thought Miss Fame set you on fire for eating meat?

Ru: (Neck rolling) My body is an illusion chiilde. My existence is merely a string of conscious decisions ive made prior to this mortal realm.

Alaska: Party.

Alaska: Please mawma. Help me find Shangela so I won’t be a cunt to my loved ones all the time.

Ru: Well…i suppose I’m all out of queens to block on twitter…

Ru: Aight lets make this quick, i have a bingo game in half an hour.

–They both get in Rupauls Toyota Camry and speed off whilst remaining under the speed limit. Road safety is important at this time of year as 70% of road collisions occur at Christmas.–

Alaska: (Shedding her skin) Where the bloody hell would Shangela be?

Ru: In todays maxi challenge, we’ll be traveling to the happiest place on earth!

Alaska: Lapland?

Ru: Close.

Ru: Scotland!

Alaska: Oh.

Alaska: (Hissing at the radio) Change the station rupaul this is making my ears bleed.

Ru: Oh? But this is the latest hit off my smashing Christmas album, ‘The beggining of the realness glamazonian peanut walk-the rumix.’

Alaska: Well turn it off. Its upsetting Jinkxes nan.

–The pair of them turn around to see Jinkxes nan having a Christmas seizure.–

Ru: If you don’t like it Alaska, get out. I don’t have to put up with tomfuckery. I’m God!

Ru: Wait.

Ru: No yes thats right.

–Alaska ejects the CD and throws it outside at a schoolboy. She takes a CD from her bra and pops it in as one of her many compelling songs begins to play.–

Alaska: Anus now available at your closest pound world.

Ru: Get out.

–Alaska is thrown out the car into a pile of snow.–

Alaska: Fuck you Rupaul you saggy bastard!!

Ru: See you at all stars 17 lad.

Ru: (Neck rolling) Oh you…forgot this.

–Rupaul throws Jinkxes nan into the pile of snow and speeds off.– Alaska: Shit.

–Alaska spots a warm glow in the distance. On further inspection it’s a humble pub. She approaches it, stepping over Jinkxes nan along the way. Once inside she spots a booth of old geezers.–

Alaska: Mrs. Kasha Davis? Tempest Dujour? Why you here?

Mrs. Kasha Davis: Us old folk have a hard time finding a place to stay during winter, and you know what they say!

Alaska: There’s always time for a cocktail?

Mrs. Kasha Davis: No. Mrs. Kasha Davis: (Tearing up) I have no grasp of my drinking problem and I’m sadder than I’ve ever been help me please.

Alaska: Lol hiee.

Tempest: Your aura is jacked. What’s troubling you?

Alaska: I need to find Shangela. Legend says a single halleloo can light a soul on fire with Christma-

Tempest: Dont talk to me about legend you lanky shit. I invented that story.

Tempest: Besides, that’s just a myth i created.

Alaska: But why Tempest?

Tempest: To get those kids off my danm lawn!

Charlie: (Raising her pint) Here here!

Alaska: Then that means…I’m doomed to hate Christmas forever…

Mrs. Kasha Davis: Yeah looks like it.

Alaska: I think I’ll go watch the Sherlock Christmas special.

Alaska: Thanks for literally nothing.

–Alaska hangs her head and pushes a pint glass off the table sadly :( She begins to exit the pub.–

Charlie: Wait!!! You have passed the test.

Alaska: (Turning back around) Pardon?

Charlie: Most people prefer the Doctor Who Christmas special, but the Sherlock Christmas special is far superior. You have passed the test.

–The seniors huddle together and whisper amongst themselves before turning back to Alaska.–

Tempest: Shangela is in fact real.

Tempest: We were only goofing you before because you’re sort of a dick.

Alaska: So Shangela is in the happiest place on earth Scotland?

Mrs. Kasha Davis: (Guffawing) Dont be silly.

Mrs. Kasha Davis: Scotland doesn’t exist. Shangela lives in Sheffield, up in the block of flats behind Lidl.

Tempest: I hear the Lidl fruit cake is very good this year.

Mrs. Kasha Davis: Yes Ive heard that too.

Tempest: Mmm very good.

Charlie: Bit too dense for me. Gives me diarrhoea.

–They all look around to Alaska who’s disappeared.–

Tempest: Shit.

–Around an hour later and Alaska finds herself outside a large council estate. She travels up the flight of stairs to a door with a Christmas wreath. She rips it off the door and knocks. A Christmas present rolls out the door and Shangela pops out.–

Shangela: Haleoo?

Alaska: Hiee are you…

Alaska: (Looking down at her hand) Shanjello?

Shangela: Maybe i am. maybe i arent.

Shangela: I just huffed an entire tube of paint i genuinely don’t know anymore.

Alaska: This entire holiday is aids.

Alaska: I got frostbite on the way up and i left Jinkxes nan to die in a pile of snow.

Alaska: I need some Christmas spirit.

Shangela: (Taking out a fat blunt and taking a massive chong) Listen here you lanky shit.

Shangela: Many before you have tried, and most have failed.

Shangela: Just like on drag race, consequence for failure…is death.

Alaska: I’m not sure that’s correct.

Shangela: Yeah sorry its the drugs.

Shangela: Alright go get me some Lidl fruit cake and i’ll give you my sweet Christmas goo.

Alaska: Ok but i never want to hear the phrase ‘sweet Christmas goo’ ever again.

Alaska: Biee

Shangela: (Waving and grinning) No problem giant purple rat.

Shangela: Is the sky melting?

–Alaska makes her way inside Lidl and grabs a big ol fruit cake. At the counter she couldn’t help but feeling she knew the cashier dressed up in a reindeer costume. She pushes a schoolboy over and places her baked Christmas goods on the counter along with a litre bottle of tizer which was only a quid insane bargain.–

Raja: 3 quid mate.

Alaska: Raja??? You work in Lidl???

Raja: Aye.

Raja: You know how it is. Crippling debt and all that.

Raja: Turns out 75,000 pounds goes quickly if you spend it all on grey hair dye.

Alaska: I didn’t ask but ok, werk.

Raja: What are you doing here? You hate Christmas and seasonal foods.

Alaska: it’s not for me, Shangela is exchanging Cake for Christmas spirit.

Raja: (Gasping) That idea is a boot from me. Shangela is a very vengeful and evil spirit!

Raja: OI RAVEN.

Raven: (From across the room working another counter) WHAT.

Raja: THE CUNTS ONLY GONE AND MADE A DEAL WITH SHANGELA.

Raven: WELL GET HER OUT THE STORE I WONT BE CLEANING UP BLOOD OFF THE FLOOR.

Raja: (Turning back to Alaska) Would you like a bag for an extra 5p?

Alaska: Vengeful spirit? What are you on about?

Raja: Well, back on our season there happened to be a Christmas challenge…

Raja: All was going well. The room was full of seasonal cheer! That was all until a large box was rolled out and we were all proper gagged.

Raja: Shangela popped out of the box after being eliminated from last season. She was ready to snatch the crown by any means necessary.

Raja: As it turns out she did so badly in the challenge, she landed herself in the bottom 2 once again.

Raja: Fuelled by her hatred for tulle fabric and Mimi Imfurst, she managed to stay in the competition. But at a cost…

Raja: Ever since, she’s hated Christmas! And steals the souls of those who cannot bring her Christmas cake!!

Raven: RAJA DID YOU TELL HER THE STORY?

Raja: I’M TELLING IT NOW FUCK OFF.

Alaska: (Hands over the money) Sounds fake.

Alaska: See you at Jinkxes nans party!

Raja: Bye.

Raja: Daft cunt…

–Back outside Shangela’s door, Alaska knocks three times. Did she have anything to worry about? Was Raja’s warning true?–

Shangela: Haleoo?

Alaska: I brought you fruit cake.

Shangela: Who are you?

Alaska: We met 10 minutes ago.

Shangela: Ah! Giant purple rat!

–Alaska hands over the cake and Shangela observes it for a moment.–

Shangela: This…this i-is not Christmas fruit cake…

Alaska: Oh man really? Haa i must’ve picked up partytime gyozas by accident my bad.

Shangela: (Fists trembling as she goes red) YOU HAVE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE..

Alaska: Omf the look on your face right now…priceless.

Alaska: Hey what’s your wifi password?

Shangela: IM-IM.

–Shangela begins to transform as she morphs into a disgusting snowman creature. Finally she lets out a blood curdling screech and lunges at Alaska.–

Shangela: HAAALEEELOOOOOOOOOOO

Alaska: (Dodging Shangela’s punch) Hmm i think Raja may of been on to something…

Alaska: I’d better get out of here huh.

–Alaska begins to boot it down the stairs, Shangela hot on her heels, throwing glasses of Absolut cocktails at her. Alaska’s lanky knees give way as she clatters to the floor. She was at the mercy of Shangela, who towered over her menacingly.–

Shangela: I DONT HAVE A CHRISTMAS CAKE IVE NEVER HAD A CHRISTMAS CAKE IF I WANTED CHRISTMAS CAKE YES I PROBABLY COULD GO OUT AND GET ONE BECAUSE I AM WHAT? HUNGRY. YOU COULD NEVER HAVE A CHRISTMAS CAKE BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT THAT KIND OF GIRL BABY EVERYTHING I HAVE EATEN IVE WORKED FOR AND GOTTEN MYSELF I HAVE BUILT MYSELF FROM THE GROUND UP YOU FUCKING BITCH.

Alaska: (Cowering and shaking in fear) IM SO CONFUSED IS THIS A REFERENCE TO SOMETHING?

–Suddenly a Toyota Camry screeches to a halt. The door opens and it’s Rupaul!–

Ru: Alaska! Get in!

–Alaska picks herself off the floor and hops in the car. They speed away as Shangela runs after them, her snowman body gaining power in the heavy snow.–

Alaska: Rupaul? Why did you come back?

Ru: Ive been listening to Anus!

Ru: I relate a lot to the message of nails.

–Shangela lets out another roaring halleloo as she continues to throw acid cocktails. Alaska cooks up an idea stew.–

Alaska: Ru! Drive back to Jinkxes house!

Ru: What? Why? She’ll destroy the place!

Alaska: Trust mawma.

–When they arrive at Jinkxes house Ru does a sick tailspin and stops in the driveway. They leg it inside as a confused Jinkx is setting out party foods and drinks.–

Alaska: JINKX! DID YOU BUY CHRISTMAS FRUIT CAKE FOR THE PARTY?

Jinkx: What? Yeah it’s my nans favourite.

Alaska: Your nan is dead Jinkx!

Alaska: Go get the fucking cake!!

Jinkx: Wait what?

Alaska: No time to explain go grab the cake!!

Jinkx: Did you say my nan-

Alaska: Jinkx really gurl priorities. Get the fucking cake.

–Jinkx goes into the kitchen and comes back with the baked goods in hand. Alaska hurries to the front door and swings it open to find a now 50 ft tall Shangela running towards the house. She readies her throwing arm into Shangela’s agape mouth and takes aim.–

Alaska: Merry Christmas.

Alaska: motherfucker.

–She throws it with her massively lanky arms as it lands in Shangela’s throat. Shangela munches for a bit before nodding her head and returning to her original size.–

Shangela: Bloody good cake that. Aight you’ve earned your Christmas spirit Alaska.

Alaska: Thanks.

Alaska: But you know, i don’t think i need it.

Alaska: I’ve learnt that Christmas isn’t about Holiday spirit, or even our loved ones.

Alaska: It’s about food. I get it now.

Ru: Good job chiiilde. You figured it out.

Ru: Looks like my work here, (Winks) is done.

Alaska: But where will you go?

Ru: Wherever I’m needed.

Ru: Plus i hear Michelle got in trouble with the feds for smuggling coke in her boobs, so i’d better go help her out.

Alaska: Bieeeee.

–People start arriving for the Christmas party. Tempest Dujour, Mrs. Kasha Davis, Charlie Hides, Raja, Raven and even Roxxxy take their places at the table and begin to chow down on the delicious munchies. Just before Alaska goes inside Shangela lets out a small cough.–

Shangela: Hey, I’m sorry about earlier. You’ve taught me the true meaning of Christmas, and I’m forever grateful for that henny.

Alaska: You know…there is an extra place at the table since we killed Jinkxes nan…

Alaska: Want to join us?

Shangela: Well, i am out of paint to huff…

Shangela: You know what? Halleloo i do!!

–And so everyone gathered around for this most festive of holidays, rejoicing and eating those mini sausage rolls that taste better cold. Roxxxy’s bingo game went well, the old folks had a place to stay, Jinkx was sobbing into the tablecloth, and most importantly, Alaska had found out the true meaning of Christmas. Merry Christmas to one and all reading this, and i hope you go to Lidl for your shopping this festive season. Halleloo.–

#hobnob #christmas fic #alaska thunderfuck #jinkx monsoon #roxxxy andrews #mrs kasha davis #charlie hides #tempest dujour #raja gemini #raven #rpdr fanfiction #submission #shangela laquifa wadley #crack fic #rupaul

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