#The Prelude Book 11 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

waywardrose-archive · 1 year

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THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY | 11

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

5.8k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird?

Weird weird?

He shrugged. He liked weird.

In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Stg, this chapter proves the maxim “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture,” but I tried, dear readers. I tried.

“Hey,” Eddie said, voice smokey — from weed or cigarettes, you still couldn’t tell. “Wanna hear the first song I ever learned?”

You perked at the unexpected offer and set aside the spell book you’d been paging through.

“Sure.”

“‘kay, hang on.”

Knowing it was coming, you pulled the headset away just in time to miss the plastic clunk from his side. A distant clatter and footsteps filled the void. He muttered a ‘son of a bitch’ before something heavy hit the floor.

You grinned as you determined his voice was smokey from weed. No doubt about it. He wasn’t the most graceful person when sober. When high, he was loose-limbed, yet uncoordinated. Like a bloodshot-eyed fawn.

Static from the phone announced his return.

“This is gonna be an awkward set-up, but I think you’ll hear me.”

“Cool.”

The plastic clunk came again.

As he strummed the first notes, you recognized “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd.

It was easy to imagine him — scrawny, baby-faced, already jaded — with a guitar too big for him. His fingers struggling to keep pressure on the strings. You wondered who’d introduced him to Pink Floyd. Or was it something he’d heard on the radio? Had he looted an adult’s record collection?

Then Eddie sang, hitting David Gilmour’s inflections. Your breath caught at how much emotion Eddie could put into such simple lyrics. It was as though he were on the verge of something, yet he exorcized it through the song.

You wanted to sing with him, but your chest was too full of that same something. All you could do was listen and feel it.

When the song ended, it was quiet on his end. You had no words — even though you wanted to tell him how much you loved the song, his playing, his voice. You covered the mic with your palm and took a few deep, shuddering breaths. It released a tension that felt like the prelude to a sob.

“You there?” he asked.

You uncovered the mic.

“Holy shit, honey.”

Your voice remained tight, but you stretched your neck to help that wane.

With a smile in his tone, he said, “Yeah?”

“Holy. Shit.”

He chuckled.

You asked, “When did you learn that?”

“Uh... Twelve?”

“No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way!”

“You’re a prodigy, baby.”

He let out a ‘pfft.’

“I’m serious.”

It was quiet for a beat. You didn’t know how to fill the silence. You didn’t want to push your opinion, though you would repeat it if he argued. Because he was talented.

“I know,” he murmured. “Thanks.”

You hummed. “My pleasure.”

“Is it?”

You felt him waggling his eyebrows.

“Absolutely.”

He let out a breath before saying, “I’ve been working on another song.”

“What is it?”

“Frustrating.”

You gave a short laugh.

“I’ve been struggling with getting out of chords-melody thinking and into vertical-horizontal.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Okay, right, I can play four notes one after another.” He plucked four strings separately. “Or at the same time.” He swept the same strings concurrently. “Same tonal experience. Kinda. The first is horizontal, the second is vertical. Horizontal can be suspenseful, vertical dramatic.”

You nodded while making a sound of assent.

“Old-school composers didn’t think in chords, exactly, either. They saw everything as melody. Like a voice. They wrote a melody, then added a counterpoint melody. A counter-melody. And there are rules for counter-melodies.”

“So, how does that change the music?”

“I mean... It doesn’t. Not really. It’s all perspective to the composer.”

“Which is what you’re trying to change, got it.”

“Yeah, I want a different perspective. I don’t want the rules.” He hummed. “Well, not exactly. Sometimes the rules sound good, but...”

“Breaking them sounds good, too?”

“Precisely!”

“Well...” You bit your lip. “What do you have?”

His tone turned sly as he said, “You just want me to keep playing, don’t you, milady?”

“Guilty, good sir.”

“Is this, like, getting the villain to monologue? Are you planning to distract me while you execute—” His voice went theatrical. “—your diabolical plan?!”

“Now who sounds like a villain?”

“We’ll be villains together.”

“I like the sound of that.”

He agreed with a short hum.

“You know,” you said. “That almost distracted me.”

“...Damn.”

“Get your music, bard, and play me this ditty.”

He laughed, then warned he needed to set up his electric.

“That red and black one?” you asked.

“The very same.”

With a grin, you said, “What a treat.”

“You’re making me blush over here.”

“I wish I could see that.”

“After Thanksgiving?”

“You bet.”

It was quiet for a beat before he said, “Okay, setting up the guitar. I gotta move the phone away from this amp.”

“Oh? You’re in your room?”

“Uh, yeah—” He sounded distracted. “Got a phone the other day.”

You didn’t ask, but it sounded like he’d bought the phone to more easily talk to you. Maybe that was wishful thinking. He could’ve bought it so he wouldn’t have to get out of bed when someone called. Still, the thought he bought it because of you was a nice stroke to the ego.

Scraping and clattering, punctuated by the occasional ‘goddammit,’ made you grin.

Sounding out of breath, he said, “Okay, okay, I’m back.”

“Still here.”

“Alright, no lyrics yet, but yeah—”

The phone clunked as he set his headset down. There came a click, then the electric hum of an amp. His chair creaked. A deep rhythm like a heartbeat started. It dissolved into a sultry metallic shred, followed by the heartbeat again. Then a dark thrum. The heartbeat. The shred again, this time ending in grinding reverb. It went through the cycle once more until it sped into an unrelenting canter.

You knew that tempo, heard the creak of a bed in it. Staring into the black of the nearby window, you could almost see the shabby motel room.

The song was about you and him.

The canter went lighter for a few seconds. He then used that dark thrum to bring the shred back, then the heartbeat.

It was a wet dream. You bit your lip. It was his memory.

Even without the drums to drive the song, or the bass to harmonize, you could imagine how it would sound. It would be heavy, primal, with Eddie growling and crooning the lyrics. You closed your eyes and moved with the song’s pulse, like it was a living thing you rode. It was energy and alive — and a gift. No one had ever given you anything like this.

When the song ended, you opened your eyes.

His headset scraped along a smooth surface. Then it went quiet.

Knowing he was listening, you softly said, “That’s us.”

“It’s Halloween weekend.”

“Yeah.”

“That okay?”

“Okay that you were inspired?”

“Yeah?”

You grinned.

“Yeah, of course it’s okay. Write about whatever you want. I love it.”

He sounded shy when he asked, “You do?”

“Uh yeah, it’s amazing.”

You knew he gnawed on his lip. Oh, how you wanted to kiss him to make him stop and hold his face to tell him you loved the song. You wanted to tell him you loved him, because you did — with your whole heart and mind.

No, he wasn’t perfect. Neither were you. But it didn’t matter—

“You know,” he said, unaware he’d derailed your thought. “When the guys hear this, they’re gonna know.”

“Like they don’t know already.”

Not that you cared, either. Let the whole world know you banged Eddie’s hot ass in a cheap motel.

He snorted. “True, subtlety isn’t exactly my speciality.”

“How self-aware of you.”

“I try.”

You’d already bookmarked a spell for manifesting. In another book, utilizing sex magic to manifest a lover. There was a variation on the same spell for better sex. While you didn’t need better sex or a lover, you could alter the spells to manifest your magic. You reasoned you could use sexual energy for manifestation.

Maybe your magic was blocked, though. You needed a spell to unblock it. Or you needed to call your magic back, which was a lot like manifesting.

You sighed and leaned back in your desk chair. Spells were all fine and good, but if you didn’t have magic, how could any of them work?

No, you corrected. You didn’t need magic to make spells work. You needed energy.

You read the bookmarked spells again, noticing similarities. Combining them, rewriting them for your own purpose, and using your own energy wasn’t a farfetched idea.

In your notebook, you sketched the manifesting sigils. Supplies were simple: candles, chalk, and a goal. You copied the guidelines about breath-work, retaining awareness of your energy as it moved through the body, and visualization.

However, you didn’t know what your magic looked like. How were you supposed to visualize something that didn’t have a physical form?

You stared out the window. The sunset bleached the blue sky nearly white, like the color of faded denim. Thin, mottled clouds turned purple and gold.

Then it came to you: light was energy, but you couldn’t sense it until it interacted with something else. That didn’t mean it didn’t exist before then.

So, if your magic was energy, what mattered, in terms of visualization, was what it interacted with.

Which was you.

Now that your magic was gone, you realized you used it like another sense. You’d interacted with your surroundings with magic. It was how you felt the care in Eddie’s jacket repair and how you made your footsteps silent. However, the major driver was you. Always you.

You asked yourself how you felt with magic. The simple answer came quick: expansive. You’d sensed more. Since the attack, you felt asleep. Like in dreams where you ran, yet lacked forward movement.

Envisioning that expansiveness was manageable.

You stood, tucking in your chair, and rolled back the rug covering the hardwood floor until you had enough space. From the supplies in your closet, you retrieved spell candles, blessing oil, incense, and white school chalk.

It didn’t take long to prepare. After turning off the lights, you undressed by candlelight and anointed your body. You knelt in the middle of your sigiled circle, swirls of chalk smudging your spread knees. Though you couldn’t feel the sigils’ power, you trusted it was there.

You placed a palm on the chalk to connect to the sigils. With the other hand, you reached between your legs. As you idly brushed your clit and the tender folds leading to it, you remembered blowing Eddie. The warmth between the sheets had smelled of you and him. His silky skin had been so warm.

You’d inched his sleep pants to his thighs and kissed his firm belly, his treasure trail tickling your cheek. He’d stirred, yet hadn’t woken. The linen-filtered light gave a tranquil air. There’d been no rush.

You’d rested your cheek below his bellybutton, his clean scent filling your nose. He had smelled of heated skin and salt and your soap. You’d run your hand over his belly, around his soft cock, across the downy hairs at the top of his thigh.

Feeling bold, you’d swept your fingers up his inner thigh; the skin fine and soft. You skimmed the tip of his cock and his sac. His legs had spread minutely, which made you grin. You spiraled a finger around the glans just to see how he’d react.

And it had been mesmerizing.

Though his breathing had remained steady, his cock plumped and reddened. You hadn’t expected his body to be so responsive. If he’d been awake, you might’ve teased him by calling him slutty.

You’d then drawn closer to this growing erection, wrapping a hand around the base to brace it. Saliva had gathered on your tongue, because you’d wanted to taste him.

You wanted to taste him now — and hear his groans.

The thought combined with the memory had you slick.

You stroked your clit to the rhythm of the song he’d played for you last night. You thought of his talented hands — on his guitar, at your waist, holding your throat, clapping down on your ass. He stretched you perfectly, ground against you like he couldn’t get close enough, kissed you as if he wanted you inside him.

You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on your building pleasure. It trickled in like a gentle brook. And it was energy, hot and syrupy. Sweet like honey. You remembered that tremendous feeling of the universe, of being able to tap into it. All of it was yours, and you were in its thrall.

With a whispered curse, you imagined the trickle of energy filling you. It flowed down your spine to pool between your hipbones. It infused your flesh, spilled into your arms.

You opened your eyes to watch the chalk lines flicker with light.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, yeah, come on.”

You sped your strokes, trying to recall how Eddie had done it. He’d used fingers on either side of your clit. You adjusted your touch and rocked your hips counter to each forward stroke.

Connection, you thought. You sought connection once more.

“Please...”

You pressed harder, and it was as though your body remembered the scenario of half-lying on Eddie, his body against yours, grinding onto his fingers, his other hand branding one cheek of your ass.

Please, please, please...

“Give it back. Give it to me.”

When the energy swelled and orgasm crested like an ocean wave, you bit back a moan and breathed through it. You thought of the connection to the magic, of using what had been given, of feeling favored.

The chalk flickered once, twice, before going dark. It wasn’t enough. You didn’t have enough.

“No,” you said. “No, no, no.” You curled forward, slapping your wet fingers on the chalk. “Please, come back.”

The candles’ flames danced as the central heating kicked on. Goosebumps prickled over your forearms. The blessing oil turned sticky on your skin.

You sat back on your heels, breathing deep. This wasn’t the end. Perhaps you needed to rework the spell, or take more time to prepare. You couldn’t just dive into a spell anymore. As normal as you’d been rendered, you probably now had to meditate and rest and use the proper moon phase.

Before you did any of that, you needed to wash off the chalk, oil, and come.

At the kitchen table in the morning, Mom announced she and your father were going on a date Friday night. They’d made a reservation at some Italian restaurant downtown. She then reminded you that you were still grounded.

Like you’d forgotten.

You nodded and took another bite of cereal as an outline of a plan came into focus.

Date night meant they’d both have too much to drink. You didn’t want to think about what happened after they came home and retreated to their bedroom. Logically, though, you knew they’d be occupied with each other for the night. In the morning, they’d sleep late, pop painkillers, and want a greasy breakfast.

They wouldn’t notice another person in your bedroom. Especially if that person didn’t park their van nearby. Or if they didn’t drive over at all.

“Just in case,” you said, tentative. “May I have my car keys?”

Your father grunted and folded the newspaper to the side. He looked unimpressed.

“Just for the night, promise.” You glanced between your parents. “What if something happens?”

You gave Mom an imploring look.

To your father, you said, “I won’t do anything stupid.” To Mom: “If there’s an emergency—”

“You call 9-1-1,” your father said.

“Now, dear,” Mom said to your father. “The police take so long to respond. What if someone breaks in? How would she get away quickly?”

“She runs.”

“You want her barefoot out in the cold? It’s almost December.”

He sighed through his nose, lips pursed.

You offered, “I could get us breakfast in the morning?”

His eyebrows lifted, then his expression shuttered.

“No.”

You nodded and finished your cereal. If you argued, your father would likely add another week to your grounding. He’d say you were trying to find a loophole or whining or being a child. Then he’d compare you to the brats his colleagues raised — and you weren’t a brat, were you?

No, you weren’t a brat. You were a witch who’d been violated and had her power ripped away.

You took your empty bowl to the sink, rinsing it with water before leaving the kitchen. The bus would be at the corner in ten minutes. You threw on your coat, shouldered your backpack, and left the house.

You waited outside O’Donnell’s for Eddie, hands tucked between the small of your back and the wall. It was probably overkill to wait. Or it would look like it embarrassed you to ask where anyone could overhear. You could pass him a note during class, but you didn’t want it confiscated. O’Donnell had read students’ notes aloud before.

And what you were going to ask could be misconstrued. Well, maybe not misconstrued. You were asking him to spend the night to help you with a sex ritual.

When he turned the corner, you straightened from the wall. A bright smile spread across his face as he caught sight of you. You smiled back. He scurried over, light on his feet, then struck a goofy pose when in front of you.

His face went serious as he said, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Whatcha doing out here?”

“I need to ask you a favor.”

He leaned in, conspiratorial.

“A sexy favor?”

With a nod, you said, “Yes, actually.”

He tilted his head side to side with a hum, looking more mischievous by the second.

“Alright, let’s go. Van’s parked in the side lot.”

You bit back a laugh as a few students veered around Eddie.

“How about this Friday instead?”

“In the van?”

“In my room.”

His eyebrows rose just as the bell rang.

Multiple sets of sneakers squeaked on the linoleum as students rushed into various classrooms. You both were lucky O’Donnell hadn’t arrived yet. However, the clack of her heels grew ever closer.

You said, “Call me tonight,” and walked into the classroom.

Everyone was too busy talking amongst themselves to notice you and Eddie arrive together.

After taking his seat, he turned to you and asked, “Sure I can’t tempt you?”

You gave him a somber look in an attempt to hide a grin before pointedly ignoring him to get a pen from your purse. It was tempting to leave, because you didn’t want to sit around for the next fifty minutes and take notes.

He sighed dramatically and flipped his notebook to a fresh sheet as O’Donnell began taking roll. He kept side-eying you throughout class, but you kept your gaze focused on the board.

Eddie slung his jacket with vest over the stair rail in your room. He stopped at the edge of the rolled-up rug as you tip-toed around the larger, redrawn chalk circle on the floor.

“Okay,” Eddie said, wiping his hands on his jeans. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re going to concentrate your energy on the circle.”

“You want me to jizz on it?”

You shrugged.

“That’s bound to happen.”

“And this is supposed to help you what?”

You sat on the window seat and focused on the sigils you’d drawn earlier. Your hands fisted the thick fabric of your winter-weight robe. You didn’t know how to explain the ritual without convincing him magic was real. He had to believe to help.

“Look, I know this is gonna sound crazy,” you said, mouth gummy. “But magic is real.” You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest. “Magic is real, and I’m a witch.”

You finally glanced at him. Eddie was still and staring. His open flannel shirt hardly moved, as if he’d stopped breathing.

He looked at the circle and back at you.

“You’re a witch,” he said flatly.

“Yeah, I’m a witch.”

“Did you really sleepwalk across town?”

With a shake of your head, you whispered, “Not exactly.”

“Have you done anything to me?”

“I’ve blessed things.”

“What things?”

“The repair on your jacket.” You nodded at it. “Your black handkerchief.”

Sounding suspicious, he asked, “Nothing else? No love spells and shit?”

“No, I... Of—” Your vision blurred with tears. “Of course not.”

You’d definitely ruined his trust. He’d be wary of you from now on and always doubt any feeling for you. Unfortunately, you didn’t know how to prove your intentions. You could only tell him the truth.

You put a hand on your tense chest and said, “I’ve never — never — manipulated you.” You blinked while looking up. “Those kinds of spells don’t work, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Love spells. You can’t make someone love you. It wouldn’t be real.” You lifted a shoulder. “You can cast with love, but you can’t force emotion from another person.”

He sat on the bed, the toes of his sneakers inches from the circle.

It was quiet — too quiet — as though the house was holding its breath. Eddie studied the circle as you watched his profile. The waves of his hair possessed a hint of dampness. You wanted to sit beside him and bury your nose in those waves. You didn’t know if he’d ever let you do that again.

“Okay, so, magic is real,” he said, expression grim as he looked at the circle.

You nodded.

He continued, “And you want me to help you do something magical.”

“I want you to help me regain magic.”

“Because someone took it.”

“Yeah.”

“But you can’t confront that someone.”

“I don’t dare.”

He looked at you, the irises of his eyes dancing as he examined your face.

“What’ll happen if you pull your magic back from them?” he asked.

“I don’t think I can do that, exactly, but I can’t—” You inhaled. “I can’t let them leave me crippled like this.”

He nodded, then rested his elbows on his thighs.

“You know, when you said you needed me for a sex ritual, I didn’t think you were serious.”

You waved your hands in a small arc.

“Surprise?”

He grinned for a beat, then his face turned serious.

“It’s not dangerous, is it?” he asked.

You shook your head before explaining the sigils, the circle, how the waxing moon helped, and what you’d tried before. He brightened when you mentioned masturbation. You rolled your eyes and remarked it was just energy you could manipulate.

He smirked.

“Yeah, that’s not the only thing you manipulated.”

Your mouth twisted as you shook your head at the lame joke.

“I should’ve seen that coming.”

“Oh, you’ll see something coming, alright.”

You covered your face with a hand, trying not to laugh.

“Oh my God, will you stop!?”

Imitating a bad porn soundtrack, he sang, “Bow-chick-a bow-bow.”

Your face heated, though you couldn’t help laughing, and you pointed at the stairs.

“Leave.”

“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands in surrender, yet had a puckish smile. “I’ll stop.”

You smiled at him for a moment. His eyes twinkled, the earlier suspicion gone.

“Do you trust me?” you asked.

Nodding, he said, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure? I don’t—”

“Sweetheart.” He pivoted on the bed to face you. “I wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t.”

You bit your lip as the tightness in your chest slowly unspooled.

He gave you a reassuring look and sat up straight. You took that as a cue to approach. His hands were cool against yours, calluses coarse across your palm. You tugged him to his feet.

“Thank you — even if it doesn’t work. I really appreciate it.”

He released your hands to cup your face.

“It’s my pleasure,” he said with a quirk of his lips.

You breathed a laugh, but he cut it off with a kiss. His soft lips were sweet from some sugary drink. His skin smelled faintly of sharp aftershave. You slanted your head to deepen the kiss and put your hands on his sides. His ribs undulated with his gentle breath, which fanned over your cheek.

Eddie kissed your mouth open. His tongue brushed yours in a tease. He sucked at your bottom lip before pulling back.

“I’ve missed this.”

“Me too.” You peeked around him to read the time. “But we need to get started.”

“Yeah.” He blinked as if he’d forgotten the reason for being in your room. “Yeah, sure.”

You eased his flannel shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. His bangs partially obscured his face as he watched your hands. Once you’d gotten the shirt off, you tossed it on the bed. The t-shirt underneath — the Metallica one from the first day of class — was tucked into his jeans.

“Can I?” you asked, pinching the t-shirt.

His voice was just above a whisper when he said, “Sure, go for it.”

You pulled the t-shirt hem loose and swept it up his torso. He raised his arms to twist out of it, his hair fluffing even further when he was free. You added the t-shirt to the clothing pile.

Somehow, Eddie looked broader without clothes. Like a reverse wet-cat situation.

You traced the demon-head tattoo on his upper chest. You’d seen all his tattoos before, of course, but you’d take any excuse to touch him. Goosebumps rose over his skin; his nipples hardened. You apologized if your hands were cold since he radiated heat.

He whispered, “No, it’s cool.”

You brushed the black-widow tattoo above the demon's head. She looked as if about to crawl across his chest. Maybe in the future you could get a spiderweb tattoo. It would be her home.

“What?” he asked softly.

“Just thinking about tattoos.”

He hummed, but didn’t push for a reply.

You centered the guitar pick on his necklace and snuck a glance at his face. His lips were red and wet, dark eyes hot, pink mottling his cheeks. That same pink trailed down his neck. You wanted to feel the heat on your lips, taste his sweat, bite his perfect skin, leave bruises on his hips and scratches on his back—

Fuck.

You couldn’t get distracted. Despite how distracting Eddie was.

You smoothed your palms down his square torso and around to his sides.

“Should I take your rings off?” you asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

His left hand trembled as you slipped off the chunky rings one by one. A pale ghost encircled his wrist where his watch usually sat. In comparison, his right hand was tame with simple rings on his middle and ring fingers. You took the rings to your desk, lining them next to your open notebook.

When you turned, he was sitting to untie his sneakers. He knocked them aside and pitched his socks in their direction. You went to him and combed his hair away from his face. He grinned with a contented sigh, eyes going half-mast.

“Are you ready?” you asked.

“As I’ll ever be, baby.”

“Okay, I’ll light the candles and stuff. You get undressed and kneel in the circle.”

He grabbed your hips to stop you from taking another step.

“Wait.”

“What? What is it?”

“C’mere.”

You moved between his spread legs with a hunch about what he wanted. He pulled at the lapels of your robe to have you bend, which you did. You balanced yourself with hands on his firm thighs.

“Yes?” you asked with a knowing smirk.

He glanced at your chest before leaning in, mouth tilting for yours. You couldn’t refuse that wordless offer. You kissed him once more, languid and tender. As the seconds ticked on, your apprehension faded. It was you and him. It was warm and tingly. It was anticipation and familiarity.

You pulled away to look into his eyes. His pupils were wide, fathomless, and full of desire. You wanted to drop to your knees, give in, let him have everything he’d been denied.

Instead, you inhaled a deep, calming breath.

Save it for the spell.

“Are you ready now?”

He re-wet his lips with a nod. You returned the nod before going to light candles and incense. After clicking off the lamps, you turned to see him standing outside the circle, naked, his hands curled around his groin. The dance of candlelight painted gold across his skin. The curve of muscle deepened, tattoos softened, the waves of his hair became a halo.

Though you wanted to touch him, you moved to the opposite side of the circle and found the ends of your robe’s belt.

“Hold up,” he said.

You released the belt, hoping he wasn’t having second thoughts.

He took a cautious step onto the circle. Before the attack, you would’ve felt the contact between him and the chalk. There was no guarantee you’d feel it after the spell, of course, but you hoped you would.

Eddie eased onto his knees as if in prayer. He held out his hands for you to take.

With a deep breath, you clasped his hands and stepped onto the circle. You needed the anchor of his touch as your equilibrium wavered from focusing on him. He said nothing of it, releasing your hands and reaching for your belt. He unknotted the bow you’d tied. The front panels loosened to hang from the slope of your breasts. You swallowed as he parted the panels enough to see you bare from throat to knee.

He smiled up at you.

“Didn’t know you were naked under this.”

“I didn’t think there was a point in getting dressed.”

“Well...” He glanced down. “I’m not complaining.”

With a grin, you said, “I didn’t think you would.”

He pushed the panels farther apart. The heavy fabric caught on your pebbled nipples. He angled forward to kiss your belly. His hands snaked up your outer thighs and hips to your waist. The slow caress made your breath catch and back arch. He nuzzled into the softness of your middle, humming.

Your cunt clenched. He was so close. He could probably smell your arousal. All you had to do was throw a knee over his shoulder and guide his face to your slick pussy.

That wouldn’t be enough, though. Your orgasm alone hadn’t been enough last time. You needed his as well.

“Eddie...” You pet his hair. “Eddie, we can’t. Not yet.”

With a soft groan, he rested his forehead on your belly. “You’re right... Jesus, fuck—”

You shimmied the robe off your shoulders and tossed it onto the bed. It took ample willpower to step back and drop to your knees instead of sliding onto his cock and riding him hard. The hungry look in his eyes didn’t help, yet somehow, you remained kneeling.

“Mirror me,” you said, walking your knees apart and putting a hand on the chalk.

He did as requested, his face close to yours. His erection jerked between his legs. Clear precome oozed down the underside, glossy in the half-light.

“Breathe with me.”

He stared at your upturned breasts as he bit his bottom lip. His chest started to sync with yours.

“Feel your energy.”

“All I feel is... wanting you.”

You nearly whimpered at his confession.

“I— I want you, too. Just put it here,” you said and nodded to the circle.

He squeezed his eyes closed with a quick bob of his head.

“Christ, when can I start jacking it?”

As before, you reached between your legs. You idly brushed your clit and the tender folds leading to it. Unlike before, there was no need to fantasize about Eddie. He was here now. You could kiss him, taste his skin, and smell his musk as much as you wanted.

“Set our pace, honey,” you said.

He fixed his attention on the hand between your legs while holding the base of his cock. You relaxed into position, waiting. A tension, more intense than before, coursed through your body as the still moment stretched. Your cunt throbbed, and you had to swallow back a plea.

Almost too soft to hear, he asked, “Are you wet?”

You nodded.

He drew his fingers up to smear the precome around his tip and over his frenulum. You mimicked him by dipping two fingers in your hot hole, then spreading your juices on your clit. The slide of them had your hips canting back, your clitoral hood stretching. The tension became physical as your breathing shallowed.

He wrapped his hand around the tip, massaging it and twisting his hand. You circled your clit in broad rotations. He rubbed the dripping slit at his tip, and you used his rhythm to tease your hole.

You met his gaze and exhaled. His eyes glowed with lust, cheeks feverishly pink. Your first instinct was to lean forward to kiss him, but you couldn’t distract yourself — or him.

“Ready?” he asked.

You breathed a ‘yeah.’

He gave a long stroke down his shaft and back up. You used the length of two fingers to stroke your clit. The delicious friction had you biting your lip. His graceful hand built a rhythm until it was the same canter from the song he’d played for you.

Something about that made the song, the situation, raunchier and deeper. It would never not turn you on now.

You mewled.

“Good?” he asked, breathless.

“Keep going.”

His breathing sped as he pumped his cock. You matched him stroke for stroke. The tip of his cock was red like ripe fruit, the shaft flushed. Heat bloomed in your chest, over your neck, and spread to concentrate between your legs. Your clit drew in. You had to press harder, but that hardly deterred you. It ramped up the pleasured warmth. It centered in the tightening muscles below your navel, your sensitive nipples, and, unexpectedly, your bite-swollen lips.

You whispered, “Make us come, Eddie.”

“Just a little faster, baby. Show me...”

You quickened your strokes. You rolled your hips against your fingers. Your eyes refused to stay open, though. You tucked your chin as your body tensed. Give it back. Orgasm was right there. Give it to me. You teetered on that knife-edge.

Eddie groaned like the sound was punched out of him. He growled a curse.

The strain in his deep voice made your gut swoop. It was enough to have you tipping into orgasm. You gave in. It felt like falling. You saw yourself falling into the velvety shadow of magic you’d once known. It thrummed around you, airless and sparkling against your skin. It sucked you in like an undercurrent. You reeled until you broke the surface with a gasp so powerful your head fell back.

You opened your eyes. Light reflected off the ceiling, strong and steady. Not candlelight.

The chalk circle shone like a beacon under you and Eddie.

Your chest heaved for breath. You felt as if you filled the entire room. You felt Eddie’s palm on the floor and his connection with you. It wasn’t the same as before, but it was something.

You met his shocked gaze as the circle dimmed little by little.

“Jesus Christ,” he said between pants. “Magic’s real.”

Acoustic cover by Yoni Schlesinger of Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here" (Schlesinger vocals are more gentle than Eddie's, but you get the idea.)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

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hillnerd · 1 year

Text

Waking Up - Ch 13

AO3 FFN Beginning of story | Previous Chapter

chapter word count 16014

Chapter warnings at end of chapter

AUTHOR’S NOTES: Much thanks to my amazing and lovely beta reader @abradystrix for helping with this chapter! Sorry for the delay- my dudes my life has been absolutely bonkers- hurt back, lead in the house, have to clean said lead (massive undertaking of many months!), got ill, developed persistent bronchitis, all the meds I was on gave me kidney stones... and I was still fulltime teaching :0 i am le tired.

Hope you like this new chapter!

PREVIOUSLY IN ‘WAKING UP’: Ron finished his second C.R.E. (combat readiness exam)- 'Resilience and Flying Assessment'- He was thoroughly tested with dangerous Bots casting spells, and having to split up from Harry. He ended up leading a team with Neville, Ramona and Kevin- they nearly got blown to bits, hit aging mist that made him grow a beard (Thanks to neville's plant know-how they were able to de-age), and then at the end Ron positioned himself as a distraction to the bots so the other members could have a shot at the capture the flag win. They won the flag and he passed his test. Percy was waiting for him outside the Auror office- he has news- and gives the paper for Ron to silently read to himself: 'Doctors Hugo and Jean Granger- FOUND.' Even further back, Hermione went to her parents’ house. Fleur met her and did some booby trap spells before disarming them. Fleur gave her a brown paper package, and it was revealed that Ron had been tortured by Snatchers- the back of his clothes tattered and stained.The next day she helped Ron study- this chapter takes place before Ron's C.R.E. and is the same scene we saw in chapter 11, just from Hermione's POV.

Chapter 13- THE SNATCHER BOOK

A sense of normalcy had come to Hermione as she helped Ron and Harry with their studies. Suddenly her faculties were sharp, her body felt light, and she knew, without a doubt, she was of use.

Being of use was a tether in the storm she felt each day. The compunction to lay in bed and not face the inevitable slew of people she’d have to make niceties to was something so foreign it would have frightened her if she wasn’t so tired. How was it that no amount of sleep lifted the drained sensation? How was it that little made her smile or think or eat or comb her hair, but the knowledge that people would see her? Anymore, even that wasn’t stopping her. Yesterday she’d been a mess in pyjamas well into the afternoon…

But today was a new day! She’d been her old self. She was imaginative in her use of spells, fleet in her research, and had Ron saying how smart she was… It wasn’t as if he hadn’t said it to her a hundred thousand times, but recently he’d been pointing to her past when he said it. There was nothing in her present to point to… No, wait there was! She was being useful!

She stopped her woolgathering and went back to the book, feverishly scanning it for another useful spell.

“So the Captionem Deprehensio spell can be used to find a variety of traps and reveal their origins… That could be handy,” said Hermione, writing the spell down into her notes.

Ron leaned towards the book, his warm arm pressing against her side a bit. She felt herself begin to squirm and heat rose in her. He was so close, with his very kissable jaw nearby, and looked so determined as he concentrated on the book in her lap.

She loved to watch him when he was in true study-mode. The intelligent glint in his eye, the focus, the expressive way his hands would move as if his body involuntarily felt the spells before he tried them. He’d always done that, even in first year— lips would purse, as if to keep from sounding out loud, and she’d see his fingers minutely pinch and shift in a miniature prelude to the sure movements he’d do later. Even if he wasn’t accurate, he fully committed to whatever spell he did, waving with a sureness of wand she somewhat envied. There was never a hesitation, just a smooth arc of movement. Hermione was delicate and precise with her movements, but it always felt cramped and rigid, even though she was very accurate.

Ron’s hands twitched as he read, then he fully cast the Captionem Deprehensio spell. There was a pulse of familiar white-blue light that scanned the room, then disappeared. It must have been the same spell Fleur did at Hermione’s house; the spell she did before she’d given Hermione the brown paper package and revealed the torture Ron had experienced.

“Did I do it right?” asked Ron, startling her from her thoughts.

“I guess we can’t know unless there are traps set up,” she said, trying to comport herself. “If it’s the spell I’m thinking of, I believe it should have a sort of web-like pattern that will light up when there are threats. In this case the pattern surveyed the space and shut down before it could detect anything. Colours can stand for different types of traps.”

Ron smiled that open, boyish smile of his. How could he still smile at her like that? So open and careless and loving? He’d been through torture, and losing his brother, and he could just grin this devastatingly charming smile and look at her like she’d hung the moon, when she’d done nothing but make his life worse after he’d been through so much.

“I swear you know about every spell there is!”

She shook her head. “I don’t.”

His hand went around her and gave a squeeze, putting endless camaraderie and care into the simplest of gestures.

“Who else would know that about some obscure booby trap spell?” he argued. “The details of what it looked like were not in the book!”

She’d seen the spell, then smelled the blood.

“Fleur and Bill would, as curse breakers.”

The blood had been everywhere. And there were cuts through so many layers of clothes… She felt hot and like the room was going to fall in on her.

“Fine, but I still am dating the most brilliant woman in England,” she vaguely heard him say. He leaned close and kissed her cheek, smiling at her, completely unaware she knew. She knew he’d been tortured. She knew he hadn’t told anyone. Was he ashamed? Was it just too much to speak of? Was he trying to protect them? Was he afraid he’d be dismissed?

She looked over to Harry.

He’d welcomed Ron back to their tent and their lives. He’d defended him as she brought her wrath and mocked him.

The clothes had so much blood on them. She didn't know exactly why. What could cause injuries like that? What exactly had they done? She knew some of it, but needed to pretend she didn’t know any of it. The room felt stifling, her skin almost too tight. She had to escape. Was it early enough to have an excuse to leave?

“We should go to bed. You both have a big day tomorrow,” she said, turning Ron’s wrist to see the time in his watch. Nearly nine was late enough. She had to get out of there before she did something reckless.

“So… Where are we planning on sleeping?” Ginny asked.

Hermione couldn’t be near Ron. She was lucky she’d not had a nightmare near him the night before. She practically felt nightmares closing in now, even as she was awake.

“We should sleep in the places your mother expects so everyone actually sleeps,” Hermione said, fleeing from the bed, but stopping herself. She couldn’t just run off… They’d know something was off with her, and if they asked she wasn’t sure she could keep from spilling the truth. It took every ounce of her self control to still herself.

She let out a deep breath, then looked to Ron.

She could tell he wanted her to stay. Everyone wanted to be paired off as happy couples, but she couldn’t. As usual, she was ruining it for everyone… She had no choice, though. She couldn’t cover up her turmoil from him for long; he knew her too well.

If she couldn’t stay with him, the least she could do was kiss him so he knew she cared. She pulled Ron in for a quick kiss on the lips, before turning for the door.

“Sleep well you two,” she said, before walking from the room as fast as she could. She carefully controlled her pace, knowing one could hear the footfalls from his room fairly easily.

Once in her room, she changed into her pyjamas at a blistering pace and curled into the bed, squeezing her arms around herself and taking deep purposeful breaths.

Her mother had her do this when she was little and wanting to cry. When she was quite young she’d cried at school often: children were cruel and she was rather sensitive to their criticisms and barbs about everything about her, from her looks to her personality. Nothing much changed from when she was five; students were still cruel, only she cried marginally less.

At age six her teacher called home about Hermione pushing someone. She had not pushed him. He’d just somehow fallen after he’d touched her hair and told her it looked like a rat’s nest. No one believed her, of course. She’d burst into tears at school when they said she was a liar. She had never been a liar!

Her Mum came and took her home, a dubious look on her face as Hermione claimed she never touched him, then was in fresh tears again.

“He really just fell over! Why won’t anyone believe me?” Hermione cried. “I hate school!”

“Oh darling, that can’t be true. You love to learn,” her mother hummed as she hugged her.

“Learning’s not the same as school!” Hermione wailed. “Everyone’s so mean and they hate me! They make fun of me all the time, even for answering questions. And we’re supposed to, Mum!”

“Oh I know. You’re very good at answering questions. Don’t stop because of a few little bullies,” she said.

“They made fun of me for crying so much…” Hermione confessed. She’d gotten in the habit of crying in frustration.

“Do you want to cry so much?”

“N-no!” she sniffled.

“Well Hermione, why don’t we try this: if you ever feel upset, hug yourself if Mummy isn’t there to hug you, and breathe a big deep gulp of air, in and out, and think of how much we love you, just the way you are.”

Hermione tried the method, but it didn’t work to comfort her as her parents didn’t love her— they didn’t even know she existed all thanks to her.

The door soon clicked as Ginny entered.

“Hermione? Are you asleep already?”

“No,” she managed.

“I hate that they’re going off to the Aurors without us, and we can’t even watch. It feels like last summer all over again.” Ginny quietly changed clothes in the corner. “I think the boys will do well, though, don’t you?”

“I’m sure they will,” Hermione agreed.

“How did the studying go with Ron?”

“Fine.”

Ginny was quiet for a moment. “He’s been doing too much lately… I think he might need some extra attention right now.”

Hermione gave a hum as Ginny turned out the light.

“I know you heard me say it to Ron earlier,” she continued, “but it will be important that you and Ron don’t fall into old habits of putting Harry first. Ron really does need to concentrate on himself.”

Hermione said nothing.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes. Sorry, I’m just a bit tired.”

“These Auror trials are no joke. Tonks told me about them back when we were all in Grimmauld Place. And her series of exams were after years of training. I’m sure they’ll do well, but… Hermione?”

“Yes?” she vaguely asked.

“Never mind,” Ginny said quickly. With a rustle of sheets she got into her bed.

Hermione waited a long time until small, even snores told Ginny was asleep.

Hermione crept out of the bed and quietly conjured bluebell flames to see under the bed. She knelt down and opened her beaded bag, seeking out the one object she least wanted to see.

Carefully, she took the brown paper package out and painstakingly unwrapped it piece by piece, making sure not to let it rustle too loudly and wake Ginny.

The smell wafted over her, making her feel sick, but she couldn’t stop staring. The lacerations were each the length of her hand or longer, splitting the fabric in a long even slash. Each blood stain wasn’t particularly bloody, but there were a dozen or so of them. Some of them had more blood than others, looking like they’d been pressed directly into his wound. What had caused these? How did he not have one scar left after?

She stared and stared, not sure why she had to see it, or what she was hoping to learn.

She’d been staring at it for what must have been hours when her head nodded, sleep insistently pulling at her. Too tired to perfectly repack it, she haphazardly folded the paper around the clothes and stuffed it far under her camp-bed.

She quietly did the silencing spell on herself and drifted off to an unpleasant sleep.

Hermione felt her lungs collapsing, as well as everything else. Harry and Ron were following her through her Apparition. Harry’s hand held fast, while Ron’s hand twitched and pulled in hers.

She landed them in the Forest of Dean, autumn leaves all around. Harry was a few feet away, pushing himself from the forest floor, while she and Ron had landed in a tumble, falling in a puddle of something or another— her side felt soaked and warm.

She almost laughed in relief and looked up into Ron’s face expecting to see him smiling at her. His eyes were wide and he let out a gasp.

“Ron?” she asked.

His eyes fluttered as he groaned pain and looked down.

“Her-my—” he breathed out before his words stopped and his head fell back.

She looked down and her own breathing stopped.

They hadn’t landed in anything from the forest; Ron’s side was all blood, drenching them. She gasped. How had —? Oh God, she’d done it to him; she’d splinched him! And the blood was pooling all over them. Ron’s blood.

Her hands shook and she propelled herself to action, moving to cut away his shirt.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Harry, voice shaking as badly as her hands.

“Splinched,” she sharply answered. She’d splinched Ron. She’d hurt him. He was bleeding everywhere. With his shirt ripped open she could see his arm was missing a giant piece, and blood was gushing at an alarming rate. She tried to stop it with cloth, but it bled through in seconds, deep red and warm.

“Harry quickly, in my bag, there’s a bottle labelled ‘Essence of Dittany,’” she said, voice sounding distant to her ears. Harry ran over to her bag as she held the remnants of Ron’s jacket to the wound, but he bled through that too. Ron’s eyes finally rolled back in his head. He was dying in her arms!

“Quickly!” she yelled at Harry.

He brought forth a broken bottle. “Hermione, it’s broken.”

“What? No!” she took the fragments, not caring that they cut her hands. The bit of potion that touched her hissed and turned green, healing her hands. “No no no.”

She tried to get it into Ron’s wound, but there wasn’t enough.

“Harry— Harry we need, we need more cloth!” he didn’t respond. “Harry?”

She turned her head, but no one was there. She had no help. Ron’s breath was stuttering.

She pulled Ron’s ragdoll-limp body to her and realised his clothing was tattered in places she hadn’t inspected. She gently rolled him, revealing his back. It was covered in long wounds that gaped and bled as profusely as his arm. The blood was crawling along the forest floor and Ron’s breathing was becoming more and more shallow.

“You’re not going to die! You’re not!” she yelled, but not one wound would staunch. Everything was crimson, and Ron’s face was taking on a waxy greyish tint.

“Help!” she called out. No one responded. Her legs were warm with blood.

His breaths slowed, and the blood finally stopped pumping across her hands. Vacant blue eyes stared at the sky.

She wailed an anguished sound like a wounded animal, and a door slammed making her startle.

Her eyelids fluttered, realising she was no longer in the forest covered in Ron’s blood. She was in her bed at the Burrow. Ginny had slammed the door closed.

Hermione felt under her pillow until her hand blissfully curled around the cool wood of her wand. Blanket and hair covering most of the signs there was an actual human in the bed, she surreptitiously undid her silencing spell.

“Ginny, that was a bit abrupt,” she scolded, voice hoarse from her silenced screams.

“Oh sorry, I assumed you’d be awake since it’s past ten and it’s the boys’ second exam,” Ginny said in a breezy way, but she had a set to her jaw that made her look very much like her mother before a scolding.

“I… I was tired,” Hermione replied, knowing how ill of an excuse it was. She hadn’t even thought to wake up for them. The day before had been rather pleasurable, in its own way— she loved finally being of use again and seeing the joy and relief on Ron’s face each time he mastered a new spell or impressively hit a target. The moment they stopped studying the momentum came to an abrupt halt and she felt like a duck struck mid flight, plummeting and spiralling into a marsh, waiting for a labrador to drag her body in for supper. She’d thought of no one and nothing, just felt the murky waters rolling over her as sleep took too long to claim her.

Ginny crossed the room to her drawers and began looking through them.

“You’re ‘tired’ a lot,” she said, jerking the top drawer completely out and dumping its contents on her bed. “Have you seen my black sports bra?”

“Erm, no. I haven’t,” Hermione replied, sitting up, a palpable unease settling somewhere in her sternum.

Ginny growled as she began pulling drawers and swiping through their contents.

Hermione was sure her next question would set Ginny erupting like Vesuvius, but her curiosity outweighed any threat of a pyroclastic flow.

“Have I… Done something to offend you?”

“You’ve not done anything, have you?” Ginny snipped, looking about her. “Oh where is that blasted thing? It’s the only one that doesn’t make my shoulders feel like my head will fucking snap off!”

“Ginny,” Hermione insisted, knowing she sounded a bit naggy.

Her dark brown eyes snapped to Hermione’s. “Why weren’t you awake and downstairs to wish them luck?”

“Like I said, I was tired,” she practically squeaked.

“You went to bed at nine,” Ginny noted, obviously not in a mood to take excuses. “I’d understand if we’d each been with the boys, but you insisted we leave them so they’d get rest. Then you slept in like you’re the Queen and did absolutely nothing.”

“Alright, I slept in and I shouldn’t have,” Hermione stated. It took considerable force to keep the sharpness from her voice. “There’s no need to—”

“You should’ve seen his face when he asked about you,” Ginny interrupted, voice quiet but dagger sharp. “He was nervous as hell and wanted you there.”

“Why didn’t you wake me, then?”

“It’s not my job to make you act like you care about my brother!”

A slap would have stunned and baffled Hermione less.

She’d been accused of many things in her life- and annoyingly most of the accusations had a kernel of truth to them.

Being a know-it-all had been the most frequent insult since she first entered nursery school and spelled a students’ name for them, when they didn’t even know the alphabet. She’d been called ugly, and she had to admit she’d never been particularly pretty, what with her dowdy body, overbite and large hair that looked on the verge of devouring Europe. Then there was condescension, being a fussbudget, having no sense of humour, being petty, being prideful… She’d had all of those pushed her way at one point or another…

She’d never been accused of laziness before. She’d never been accused of not caring. She’d most certainly never had someone say she didn’t care for Ron.

The thought was revolting. Ron was the one person she cared most for in all the world. She wasn’t sure when he’d somehow usurped everyone else, but he definitely had. He was the first person she wanted to see the reaction of when something ridiculous happened. He was the first person she wanted to share any news with. He was the first person she wanted safe. A world with no Ron was grey and hopeless.

“Of course I care about Ron!” Hermione finally gasped out.

“Then act like it,” Ginny cooly retorted,

Hermione’s hackles began to rise. “Sleeping in one time doesn’t mean I’m—”

“It’s more than that.”

“How?” she questioned, not caring how sharp or loud her tone was now.

“It’s the way you prioritise everything before him!”

“I don’t do that!” she protested.

“Please,” Ginny said with an eyeroll.

“If you’re going to accuse me, at least give some pertinent evidence!”

“The fact that you can’t think of one example yourself is part of the problem!”

The redhead paced the room, arms wound tight, as if to keep her fists from flying out.

“Like yesterday: The second Harry needed help or a boost you were all over it and completely forgot Ron. Yesterday morning you were ready to help Harry study for his exam over Ron until I piped up.”

Hermione’s brows began to crease. “Yes, but Ron did the same thing.”

“How’s that supposed to make it better?” she asked. “He needs to study and stop waking early and cooking for everyone when he’s getting no sleep- but there you are offering to help Harry on exams, letting Ron coax you into eating as if you’re a toddler, not even bothering to congratulate him on his first exam, while he does everything! It’s not like Harry has a better track record— this has been a habit of both of yours for years— but at least I know Harry is trying to look after him now and has tried to get him to take care of himself and boosted him up lately.”

“Considering your own track record for mercilessly teasing Ron, you’re one to talk!” Hermione shot back. “When do you ever ‘boost up’ your brother?”

Ginny’s face began to turn a deep shade of red. “You wouldn’t get it; you’re an only child.”

“I might not fully understand, but the way you and your brothers, especially the twins, belittle him all the time is why he has always been so unsure of himself.”

“We’re not responsible for his self-esteem issues!”

“Aren’t you?” Hermione sniped. “You all have undercut him every year, more than anyone else in the family, except maybe Percy. Everyone has always thought the twins were so very funny- but they were torturing Ron at every turn!”

“Don’t you talk about Fred and George!” Ginny growled, eyes glittering with unshed tears.

“Alright,” she conceded, trying to keep her voice controlled. “But don’t act like you’ve been so wonderful for Ron when you’re tearing him down every time you’re in the same room. I know you want to show how very independent you are, but it’s gotten just short of despicable the last few years.”

Ginny stared at the floor, and Hermione could practically hear her teeth grinding.

“Fine,” Ginny sighed, words barely making it to Hermione’s ears. ��I could lighten up with the teasing. But Hermione, you need to see how Ron needs help— your help!”

“I helped him prepare for his exam all of yesterday!”

“He cares about you more than anything—“ Ginny continued as if Hermione had said nothing. “He’ll listen if you ask him to slow down! He’ll let you if you offer to do things for him! You can’t just sit back and be this… This empty vessel, accepting his love and attention and giving nothing back!”

“I give back!” Hermione said, more to soothe herself than because she believed it.

“Oh right— you do give him snogs.” Ginny rolled her eyes and went back to tearing through the room to find her sports bra.

Hermione had felt useless and terrible for weeks, but now it was confirmed… She was doing nothing, giving nothing… Useless, useless, useless…

“I’m going fucking mad!” Ginny cursed, started to look under her bed. “Is there a chance it’s with your clothes?”

“You’re free to look,” Hermione said, numbly staring at the wall. Ginny was right. She was an empty vessel. She couldn’t act. Couldn’t think.

Ginny grumbled as she looked under their beds, clearly unable to find… What was it she was looking for again? Hermione was going to ask when Ginny gave a small cry and backed out from under Hermione’s bed so quickly she nearly upset the nightstand.

“What is it?” Hermione asked.

“I think it’s blood,” Ginny said, face pale.

Realisation slowly dawned. Hermione's heart began to race as she watched Ginny's face contort with shock and disgust. She had been so consumed with her own guilt and self-hatred that she had forgotten about the brown paper package filled with Ron’s clothes.

Ginny crept back towards the bed and Hermione let out a faint, “Don’t—”

It was too late. Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, her head in her hands as Ginny stood in front of her.

"What is this?" Ginny asked, holding the blood-stained clothing.

Hermione couldn't find the words to speak. She slowly raised her eyes out of her hands. All she could do was stare at the clothes and feel the smell of sweat and blood engulfing her. There was so much blood.

“Hermione, what is this?” Ginny asked again, voice shaking in concern.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked up at her friend. "It's from when Ron was captured last year," she said barely above a whisper.

“At Malfoy Manor?” Ginny’s voice sounded small, young and so afraid.

She shook her head. “Snatchers.”

“What happened to him?”

“I-I don’t know,” Hermione stuttered, the words barely audible. “Did Harry tell you about Ron’s time away from us?”

Ginny gave a small nod. “The other night when he was drunk. He was waxing poetic ‘bout Ron, then said the Horcrux had driven Ron off and he couldn’t get back for a while.”

Hermione felt some modicum of relief. She had not discussed any of that with her, in part because she feared Ginny would judge Ron for leaving them. Hermione had judged him terribly at the time and she’d dealt with the Horcrux. Of course, if anyone could understand a Horcrux driving them to do something against their will, it was Ginny.

“He couldn’t get back to us because he was caught by Snatchers. When he came back he made a joke of it, said they were stupid and smelled and that he’d splinched a few fingernails off… and that was all.”

She looked down at the clothes.

“Day before yesterday Fleur gave me that brown package, as evidence, if he needed it…”

She explained what Fleur had described to her: an unrecognisable Ron, beaten and bloody, with broken bones and no explanation; All he had was a drive to get back to her and Harry.

“Harry doesn’t know about this,” Ginny said rather than asked, haphazardly folding the brown paper around his clothes and placing them on the ground between them.

Hermione shook her head. “Ron didn’t tell me or Harry any of this. He didn’t want us to know.”

“But now we do. We need to do someth—”

“And what exactly are we supposed to do?” Hermione interrupted. “He lied about it. Whatever horrible things they did, he doesn’t want any of us to know about it! Are we supposed to corner him and make him tell us what they did?”

“Maybe we should!” Ginny threw her hands in the air.

“And make him relive whatever he went through right when he’s in the middle of exams? Or if he comes back having done amazing today, we’re supposed to spoil his moment of triumph?”

“Well no, but… Someone needs to know. We should tell Mum and Dad! This is—” Ginny swallowed then stopped. “Bill would have told them if he wanted them to know… This is probably too much for them right now… And Harry would go mental…”

The two girls stared at the bloody clothes.

“We should talk to him about it,” Hermione said quietly, “but not right now…”

“When?”

Hermione gave a hopeless shrug. When did you confront someone with intimate evidence of a secret so foul?

Ginny bit her lip. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Don’t be…” She hadn’t said one thing that wasn’t true. “You’re right… I haven’t been good for Ron, good for anyone… I’ve been so… so utterly useless.”

Tears threatened to flood her eyes and she rapidly blinked, knowing she didn’t deserve to cry about anything.

“I’m sorry. I’m being a ninny,” Hermione said, squeezing the fat of her palms against her eye sockets.

She felt arms surround her. “You are good for Ron and me and everyone else. You’re family! You just have some blind spots—most people do around Harry.”

Hermione gave a vociferous sniff. How many times had she let Ron be in her blind spot? She wasn’t sure. She felt like she was hyper aware of him at all times, but everything was making it rapidly clear; she was utterly clueless when it came to Ron.

“Let’s get up and do something,” said Ginny. “You need to get out of bed and do things. I’ve felt depressed and useless before, and finding purpose and actually moving helps. I’d say let’s do some chores here, but my brother’s done most of them.”

Ginny carefully refolded the brown paper package and hid it deep under Hermione’s bed.

Hermione wanted to do something for Ron, something he would know meant he was appreciated. She had to admit she wasn’t very good at knowing what creature comforts he preferred. He liked being helped with papers and homework when he was overwhelmed, and seemed to like being held and having his head stroked a few of the times he’d been upset… Beyond that she wasn’t sure. For years she’d avoided any intimate gestures so she wouldn’t give away her infatuation. She gave Ron and Harry the same gifts, the same sorts of compliments— well she had to admit she tended to bite her tongue with Ron on compliments, for fear he’d know of her interest she’d convinced herself was one-sided.

The thought of how rubbish she was for him was flaring so loudly she could barely think, when she realised one creature comfort she’d seen him turn to.

“Perhaps we can do a bit of cooking?” asked Hermione. He loved a home cooked meal. If she could cook enough food he wouldn’t have time to take it on himself that week.

“Mum’s out visiting Andromeda and Teddy until late this evening and Dad’s got late meetings, so that’s perfect,” said Ginny.

A pang of guilt struck Hermione. She hadn’t thought about Teddy Lupin or any of them in weeks. Andromeda had lost almost her entire family and had a baby to care for. Hermione couldn’t even take care of herself anymore.

“I’ll find some easy recipes,” said Ginny as she left. Hermione could hear her footsteps fading down the stairs.

Hermione opened her bag and grabbed the first clothing her hands landed on so she wouldn’t become stalled with decisions, then looked in the mirror. She hated how pale and thin she was with giant dark bags under her eyes. And then there was her hair.

She’d been slightly neglecting it. Parts were getting knotted and she really needed to condition and comb it out before it turned into a woollen throw. Not wanting to bother with making it behave, she flung her hair up in a large topknot. She only had so much energy, and her hair wasn’t half as important as finally doing something nice for Ron.

She had just made it downstairs when the Floo activated with a ‘fwoosh,’ making both the girls startle.

“Hello, is this the Weasley residence?” said a woman’s officious voice through the green flames.

“This Floo is restricted access,” Ginny announced, arms crossed.

“Yes. The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, is requesting permission to access your home,” the woman replied, a touch impatiently.

“Oh! Uh… Permission granted?”

“We will need to do a security sweep,” came a man’s voice.

“What?” asked Ginny, but suddenly the fireplace burst into person-sized green flames and two men emerged in deep purple robes.

“Pardon us. This won’t take a moment,” one of them smiled, as the other gruffly went through the Weasley kitchen doing a bevy of spells.

“It’s clear,” the friendlier of them said into the Floo. With another large movement of green flames, Kingsley walked into their home.

“I’m sorry for the production, but the Ministry is starting to insist on it.” He looked to the two officers, dutifully standing at attention. ”Gentlemen, you can leave.”

“Yes, sir,” the all-business one said, and with that they disappeared back to the Floo, letting the green flames turn back to normal on their exit.

“Do you have a security question for me?” Kingsley asked, spelling away the soot from his flowing dark blue robes.

“Oh, erm, yes,” Hermione said, looking to Ginny.

“Who was the Order of the Phoenix member who routinely ate the last of the plum puddings?” Ginny asked, a small smile on her face.

“That would be me,” he said with a slightly bashful look that seemed very out of place on such a powerful wizard. “And what object was a tripping hazard in the front hall of the Order Headquarters?”

“The umbrella stand,” Hermione and Ginny replied. It was bittersweet remembering how Tonks would trip over the stand with regularity.

“Should I get Mum from Andromeda’s?“ asked Ginny.

“No need to bother Molly. Or Andromeda. I’m here to speak with Hermione, the boys, and you as well, Ginny. I would have come when the boys weren’t in their Exam, but my schedule wouldn’t permit me to come for another few days,” he said, shaking his head.

“Sounds like you've been rather busy,” Ginny said, heading to the stove. “Tea?”

“Thank you, yes,” he said. He definitely looked strained compared to the other times Hermione had seen him.

“Hermione, I’ve been made aware that you and others were caught by Snatchers during the war.”

Ginny fumbled the kettle with a loud clang. “Sorry,” she said. Hermione could see her shoulders rising in tension.

“That’s right,” Hermione answered Kingsley, doing her level best to not look as fragile as she felt.

“I have a book of photos for you and the boys to look through. We need witnesses to confirm crimes and war crimes Snatchers committed so we can charge the perpetrators,” he said, opening the book to an array of wizards, and a few witches. Page after page were official ID photos from the Ministry. “I’m hoping the three of you are willing to identify the Snatchers who kidnapped you, and report any other individuals of note we should know about.”

“Wouldn’t their position as a Snatcher be enough for you to charge them?” Hermione asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Kingsley said, taking a seat at the dining room table. “Snatcher was just an official title given to people. Whether or not they actually committed crimes is another matter. If they fulfilled any of the duties of Snatcher beyond paperwork then that usually is enough to be charged with something like intent to kidnap, but there are some Snatchers who allegedly used their position to help people.”

“Well, they certainly haven’t helped anyone in this house,” Ginny said, putting out tea and the biscuit tin for them all.

“No. I don’t think anyone from the Order has seen the good side of a Snatcher,” he said with a rueful shake of his head, taking up his cup of tea. “So this book will have their photo bordered in orange if you recognise someone.”

Hermione turned a few pages, and there was Fenrir Greyback, staring back at her, his gruesomely sharp grin on full display. The black border around him turned orange and glowed.

“However, if they have committed crimes you witnessed, you can touch your wand to their photo to confirm you saw, heard or experienced evidence of their crimes. It will turn green. To do this, picture the crime in your mind and the possible charges will be listed underneath. No one but you, me, others who witnessed the crime and necessary staff can see this list.”

“Who are the necessary staff?”

“People actively working on the case or in the courtroom. The prosecutors, Aurors and clerks actively working on the case can see it, as well as whoever is defending them in court.”

“What happens if I just touch the photo without thinking of the specific crimes?”

“It will still grow green, but no list will be displayed. This might prompt an interview with an Auror or Ministry Prosecutor so we at least know what crimes you bore witness to or heard the confession of. If they need you to testify, they will contact you. The wand method can be a good way to cut down on you having to describe things to a stranger as often.”

Not wanting to describe Greyback’s crimes more than she had to, she touched her wand to his photo and thought back to the nights she’d seen him commit heinous crimes.

At Hogwarts and her sixth year out of the corner of her eye she’d seen Fenrir’s back and matted hair. He was hunkered over some prone figure. That figure had turned out to be Bill Weasley, who he had mauled and left scarred for life.

Then there was the night he and the other Snatcher captured her, the boys and others, taking them to Malfoy Manor. She could still remember the feel of him pressing against her in lewd ways, commenting on her flesh he wanted to bite. He and the others had beaten Ron. They had commented on killing others, and had kidnapped all of them, and turned them over to be tortured by Bellatrix.

Finally, she’d seen him mauling Lavender Brown, who was still horribly scarred and in recovery from it.

In tiny green writing it listed what she’d thought of.

Inflicting Grievous Bodily Harm (GBH)

Causing GBH or wounding with intent to cause GBH

Common Assault

Actual Bodily Harm

Confession of Murder

Kidnapping

As the list continued down, the other photos moved to accommodate the lines of crimes, though many photos rolled their eyes and huffed at having to move.

The list continued on another few inches down, all the way to petty thievery.

It was odd seeing it laid out in words. In some ways it felt wrong for such heinous acts to be summed up so neatly in a few lines. At the same time, having a succinct list of crimes with Kingsley overseeing it, it felt like there might be some form of justice down the road.

“Keep the book and have the boys look over it, if they feel so inclined,” said Kingsley.

“Don’t forget Dean Thomas. He was captured by Snatchers too,” said Ginny.

“We haven’t. That’s how we learned about Harry, Ron and Hermione’s capture. They were investigating Ted Tonks’ death. I might be Minister now, but I wanted to help. He and Andromeda are old friends, and Order members, even if just peripherally.”

Hermione nodded as a thought struck her. “Is this a thorough list of all the Snatchers?”

“All that we have official photos of. There might be some people who aided Snatchers or acted as ones in some capacity who were not included. They didn’t get paid unless they were official Snatchers, so that was a good incentive for them to file paperwork and get ID photos.” He took a moment to glance at his watch. “I wish I could stay, but I have a meeting with the Prime Minister in a bit.”

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, this more fully put into perspective Kingsley was a world leader now, not just a highly trusted Auror and Order member. “You didn’t have to bring this yourself, Kingsley.”

“If I had law enforcement you already knew and trusted I would have sent them.” It went unsaid that the Aurors they knew were now dead. “Plus I didn’t want to spring this on Arthur or Percy at work.”

“Thank you for being so thoughtful with this.”

“We Order members need to look out for one another,” he said with a small smile that managed to put her at ease. She was never an Order member, technically, but she appreciated the sentiment. “And Ginny, there are a few pages at the back with photos of people you might recognise from your time at Hogwarts; mostly surviving Death Eaters. If you chose to identify them for us that would be helpful to our cases.”

Ginny gave a nod.

“Minister, it’s time to meet with the Prime Minister,” came the woman’s voice through the Floo.

He sighed before dipping down the last of his tea.

“Thank you, ladies,” he said with a small bow of his head before leaving through the Floo again to his office.

“Meeting with the Prime Minister,” Ginny said with a whistle. “Poor man.”

“I hear this one is not too bad.”

“I don’t know anything about politics except that I want nothing to do with politicians,” Ginny said with a shake of her head as she sat at the table. Hermione declined to comment on how Kingsley was a politician now, or that Ginny and her family very much took a political stance almost daily with their actions and sentiments.

Hermione let her fingers trail over the book. “Should we show this to the boys?”

“Of course,” Ginny said, a crease of confusion between her eyebrows.

“But now? Would this be any better than bringing up Ron’s clothes?”

Ginny stared at the book. “We might learn who did all that to Ron…”

“But not what they did.”

“We can tell most of what they did from looking at his clothes,” said Ginny, eyes still not meeting Hermione’s. “I say we show them the book, but save any confrontations about the Snatchers until this Auror Exam business is over.”

“I don’t know…” Hermione dithered, not wanting to make things worse.

“I don’t want to delay the people in that book from getting put away. Neither will Harry or Ron.”

She was right, of course. Neither one of them would want to delay justice. At the same time, she didn’t want to make his life harder than she already had.

“Hand us the book, then,” said Ginny.

Hermione slid the book of Snatchers across the table.

“Let’s get this over with,” said Ginny, flipping her way through it and touching a few images here and there with her wand.

In all the time they’d spent at the Burrow since the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione hadn’t spoken with Ginny about her time at Hogwarts. Ginny had a few scars on her arms, but hadn’t brought up the topic once.

“Was Hogwarts very bad last year?”

“It wasn’t pleasant.” Ginny paused mid page flip. “It was a bit like when Umbridge was in charge, only with Unforgivables, pro-Voldemort propaganda, and dark magic.”

“Did they—?”

“Done,” said Ginny, touching the last picture and slapping the book closed.

“Was it the—?”

“I’ll start putting together food, you finish looking through the book,” said Ginny, a firm set to her jaw as she got out a few of Mrs Weasley's cookbooks.

It was times like this where Hermione wondered if Ginny would have ever chosen Hermione as a friend, if not for proximity.

They’d been very much thrown together over the years, the ‘only girls’ being forced to room together. Hermione could see the hesitancy Ginny had with her—girls had never particularly liked Hermione. Well, no children had really liked her until Ron and Harry. And Neville, though much of the time she felt it was because she was a life raft he needed more than he genuinely liked her.

The first few nights she spent in Ginny’s room the summer before fourth year had been awkward, but somehow they’d found a rhythm. Ginny was a lot like Ron: warm, welcoming, passionate, clever, brave, impossible not to like. Weasleys were all like that. The biggest difference was that Ron was never forced to spend time with her, be polite or welcome her in as a guest— initially he’d hated her and was an independent agent who owed her nothing— so when he changed and brought her into his life she knew he wanted her there. With Ginny, Hermione couldn’t quite tell how much was politeness and finally having a young woman nearby in a house of boys, versus her genuinely wanting Hermione’s presence around. Once back at school they would talk, but they had their own paths and Ginny rarely spent time with just Hermione.

In some ways they had the intimacy of friendship, but it always felt tenuous for her when Ginny was clearly upset, but tight-lipped. Hermione was ill-equipped to handle emotions on the best of days.

Not having it in her to pursue a stubborn Weasley, Hermione flicked through the book Kingsley had given them, finding Scabior and the other Snatchers who had captured them. These men provoked less fearsome memories than Fenrir and his groping claws and wake of blood he left wherever he went. She flipped to the back and recognised a few Death Eaters here or there. Bellatrix wasn’t there, being thoroughly dead.

Dark task done, Hermione turned her attention back to Ron and trying to help him in some way.

Food and something else… Ah! She set up his chess board and got out the paper, which Mrs Weasley had stopped hiding. Finding what she needed, she went to help Ginny.

They spent the rest of the afternoon making casseroles and quiches enough to last the household days without a person needing to lift a spoon to have meals ready.

The work had made the hollow feeling in her chest ease just a bit, but her attention was continuously brought to the book of Snatchers, resting like a scimitar ready to come down on the relative peace of the house.

The food wasn’t delicious. Despite following the recipes and tasting along the way, it was just average fare— but it was plentiful.

It was nearly time for dinner by the time the Floo burst into green flames again. Harry came through first, looking a bit pale, but smiling as Ginny bounded up. It warmed her to see that particular smile he only held for the youngest Weasley.

“How’d it go?” Ginny asked, throwing her arms around him. His hands quickly encompassed her waist.

“We both passed,” he told them.

Ginny quickly kissed him. “I knew you would! Bet you were flying circles around whatever they set up.”

“Definitely not,” he said, a rueful look on his face. “It was mad. They had these battle dummies that obliterated everything around us if they saw anything move. Nearly got blasted dozens of times. Would’ve, if it wasn’t for Ron.”

The green flames turned back to normal before dying down to nothing.

“Where is Ron?” Hermione asked, eyes fixed on the empty fireplace. What if something—

“He’s okay,” Harry assured her, reading her mind. “Percy showed up to congratulate him and Ron waved me off. Said he’d be here soon, though.”

“Oh.” Hermione felt herself deflate as she watched the empty grate. She only half listened to Harry describe his time in the exam and the vests that acted as portkeys.

She knew Ron was fine. Harry had said so. It didn’t make her feel less nervous not having him right there beside them.

“The forest was rife with traps, of course. Good thing we had fast brooms. At one point the trees all started falling in on us like Devil’s Snare or snakes. It was like that time with Nagini at Bagshot’s,” Harry said that last part to Hermione.

Both paused to remember one of the worst times of their lives— no Ron, one wand, Harry nearly dead in a torpor for days.

“I’m glad you had fast brooms,” Ginny said, biting her lip. “Here, let’s have you look this book over so we can get the bad stuff over with.”

Ginny grabbed the Snatcher book and pushed it towards Harry, explaining the purpose of the book and how the spells worked.

“It should already have all the ones we know, Harry,” said Hermione, watching as he flipped through the book, frown on his face. He read through the descriptions one by one, nodding. He’d witnessed most of the same crimes, so all but a few showed up for him.

“Looks pretty thorough,” he said, putting it back on the table and leaning back in his chair. “Ugh. I’m exhausted.”

“Would you like some dinner?” asked Ginny.

“That would be perfect,” he said with a sigh.

Hermione pursed her lips. How could they eat when Ron wasn’t back yet?

As if summoned by her thoughts of him, the fireplace burned green and out stepped Ron, a few papers in hand.

“You’re back!” Hermione cried, latching onto him, much as Ginny had Harry. He gave a hiss as she hugged his arm to her. She stood back. “Are you hurt?”

She cast a small frown at Harry. He’d said Ron was okay!

“Only a bit hurt. They fixed me up, but I landed on my arm and it’s still sore,” he said, giving his left wrist a bit of a rotation. She looked up to his face and belatedly realised he was sporting a beard. She’d never imagined him with one before. It made him look so much older and manly in a sort of valorous way that she suddenly wanted him all to herself.

“What’d you do to your face?” Ginny asked, bringing over the casserole dish and setting it out on the table.

“What?” he asked.

“You’ve got a beard,” Hermione said, feeling her face start to burn.

“Damn it. I forgot to shave that off,” he said, fingers rasping against it. “We got into some sort of ageing mist. Me and my team were over a hundred years old for a bit. This is the leftovers of it, I guess.”

“You look like an orangutan,” Ginny teased.

“You look dashing,” Hermione corrected, fixing Ginny with a weighted glare who managed to look a touch sheepish.

“I mean, it just looks out of place because you’re young. If you grew one when you were older, I’m sure it’d look fine,” Ginny amended, getting a suspicious look from Ron.

“Do you think it’ll grow back once you shave it?” Harry asked.

Ron gave a shrug before bodily throwing himself into a chair and setting his papers on the table precariously close to the Snatchers book. “Dunno. Guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

“We cooked. Are you hungry?” Hermione asked.

“Famished, thanks,” he said, sitting up taller in his seat.

She and Ginny put together plates that the boys eagerly tore into. Ron mostly stayed quiet as Harry told them about the last of their exam.

“Then Ron went up on his broom so the battle dummies would follow him and gave us an opening. What were you, half a mile up?”

“Felt like it when I was falling from it.” He gave a shudder.

“Then that annoying girl Ramona ended up capturing the flag, but it was all thanks to Ron,” Harry grinned as he took a bite of casserole.

“So Ron sacrificed himself?” Ginny asked, not smiling at all as she reached to add more casserole to Harry’s bowl.

“Ginny…” Hermione said warningly.

The boys seemed unaware of the minefield they’d stepped into.

“We had on those vests; I knew I’d be okay,” said Ron through a large bite. “Took forever for the portkey to kick in so I fell a long ways. Made me worry the vest wouldn’t work, for a bit— and of course, I thought I’d bollocksed up the exam, but I ended up passing anyway, somehow.”

“You sacrificed yourself and you didn’t know you’d pass,” said Ginny, pausing mid serve, a potent glare settling on Harry. “You let him do this?”

Harry roughly swallowed his bite, seeming to understand the situation given the way the smile fled his face.

“Let me?” began Ron, eyes glinting in challenge. “Harry’s not my minder. I made a plan and executed it.”

The ladle in Ginny’s hand quivered, and she looked very much like she wanted to fling it across the room then dump the remains of the casserole on Harry.

“And he did quite well, it sounds like,” Hermione prodded, hoping to avoid another Weasley fight. She understood the anger and fear swirling in Ginny, but she equally understood how Ron needed to have a moment to breathe and be celebrated. “And you’re not hurt badly, are you?”

“Er, no,” Ron said, giving his arm a wave to show how functional it was.

Ginny stared down at the table and took a deep breath. “Right…” She held her breath then finally released it, though it looked as if it were painful for her to do so. “Fine… let’s celebrate you then. I’ll put on the wireless.”

She turned on the wireless and fiddled with the dial, past news and Celestina Warbeck, until a Weird Sisters track came on, music buoyant and lighthearted. Hermione moved the Snatchers book to a nearby seat so they wouldn’t have to look at it.

As Ginny sat, Hermione just caught the intense glance she gave Harry that very much said, ‘we’re going to talk about this later, and I doubt you’ll enjoy it.’

The tension was palpable, but both the girls seemed determined to celebrate and keep it merry despite how tired the boys were and how Ginny was pointedly not touching or looking at Harry.

Hermione beamed when she was able to turn the dial of the wireless to a Chudley Cannons game.

“No!” Ron let out, a broad smile on his face. “Oh it’s been ages!”

They finished their meal with a few short games of chess by the fire that Ron won with more speed than usual- whether from Harry's distraction or Ron being in fine strategic form, she couldn’t say.

The Cannons game was quickly over when the opposing team caught the Snitch. Ron let out a moan of dismay.

“We’ll get them next time!” he said before giving a vociferous yawn.

“You both look exhausted,” Ginny said to the boys. “Let’s turn in for the night.”

The question of ‘where’ hung about until Ginny waved it away with a, “Hermione do you need to grab anything from my room?”

Oh, it was going to be like that.

Harry, who normally was quite eager to spend time with his girlfriend, looked much like he did before going into battle; pale, jaw clenched, determined with a touch of fear as he worked out a plan.

Toothbrush in the bathroom, Hermione shook her head, giving Harry a look that was both apologetic and commiserating. She’d been on the receiving end of Ginny’s anger only earlier that day, and it had felt blistering and hollowing all at once. By the look of ire on Ginny’s face, he had a long night ahead of him.

Ron put on his ‘disapproving brother’ face as they went up the stairs, but it soon turned into a great yawn and a small smile at Hermione.

“Thought they’d never leave,” he said, putting out a hand and coaxing her from her seat towards him. She quickly moved where his hand guided her, until she was standing between his knees with him grinning at her. “You cooked food for me.”

“Well it was for everyone, and it wasn’t as good as your mum’s by any stretch, even though we tasted it all to make sure it was right and followed the recipe as written to the t,” she babbled until his hand squeezed hers and he squinted at her in that teasing way only he could. “But yes. I cooked for you.”

“Thank you,” he said simply, but it felt like there was more to it. “You kept busy today and ate your dinner tonight. Well done.”

She hadn’t noticed, actually. She bristled at being praised for something so very minor and pathetic in terms of accomplishments. One glance into his warm expression made her ease, feeling like a hedgehog relaxing its quills until they laid flat. Somehow he was staring at her with genuine pride, happy she’d taken care of herself even minorly. She wished she could so easily convey how she felt to him.

“We should be celebrating you right now,” she said, trying not to let the wash of emotions make her wobble.

“How were you thinking?” he asked carefully, letting another hand drift up and hold her other hand.

“I was thinking we could go to bed and you could tell me yourself about everything you did,” she said before pulling him towards her out of the chair. He was so tall his head nearly hit the nearby hanging lamp. “Maybe I could massage your hurt arm, and then—”

He leaned forward and she thought he was going to kiss her before he bent past her and grabbed some papers.

“We have something we need to talk about first,” he said, face suddenly a mask of seriousness, brows arching into an apprehensive wrinkle.

Hermione worried her lower lip. It could be anything he wanted to discuss; Snatchers, school, trials, Death Eaters… “Whatever it is, can it wait until tomorrow?”

“What?” He blinked at her.

“If it isn’t an emergency, then I’d rather wait on knowing anything about it.”

“It’s not an emergency, exactly… But you want to wait?” he asked, clearly unsure and sceptical. A measure of disbelief at her wanting to put off knowing something was natural. She rarely put off knowing anything and was fairly ravenous in her appetite for every bit of knowledge at her disposal, be it the contents of a nearby pamphlet, the next chapter of a book, or the surprise behind someone’s back. She preferred the instant gratification of answers to any joy built through anticipation.

“Do you want to wait on even knowing what it’s about?” asked Ron. “Because you normally prefer to know everything sooner than later. And this is rather a big bit of news.”

He knew her too well.

“You don’t seem to think whatever it is will be good news,” said Hermione, mentally noting how he still looked wan and worried. She didn’t have the wherewithal to process bad news, and didn’t want barely-held-together Ron to have to pick up the emotional pieces she could shatter into.

“It’s not bad news,” he assured her, “but you might not be happy with me about it.”

“Then it can wait,” she said with confidence. “Let’s just be happy tonight.”

“You sure?” he asked, eyes wide and in that particular lamplight, startlingly blue.

“Quite.”

“And you promise not to be mad that we put it off?”

“Yes,” she promised, doing her level best not to be irritated at him questioning her again. “I have something for us to go over tomorrow, too, but as opposed to your announcement, it’s decidedly unpleasant.”

Ron cast a wary look her way, body bracing as if he was about to take a hit. “Did I— Or is it— Did George do something—?”

“Oh no, no!” she denied with emphasis, feeling wholly inconsiderate she’d not made it more clear. “It’s nothing you’ve done and it’s nothing to do with your family at all! It’s just identifying some criminals from the war for Kingsley. Harry and I already did it, but you can add yourself to the witness list.”

She picked up the Snatchers book.

His face immediately changed and his body relaxed back into his usual loose, easy posture.

“We can check out the uglies tomorrow,” he happily agreed.

Part of her selfishly wished he’d gone ahead and protested. She wanted to watch him look through the book, and see him recognize his assailants so she could put them on a private hit list. She felt such loathing for the unknown Snatchers it was hard to school her features into a neutral expression. She must have failed at this, for he gave a chuckle and took the book from her.

“How about we hide that and these papers in my roll top, and get to that celebration you were talking about,” he said, bringing up a fist to cover his yawn and gave a frown. “After I shave.”

“You could keep it,” Hermione promptly said, before heat took over her face. She wished for a curtain of hair to hide behind instead of a giant poof of a bun swaying uselessly on top of her head.

Ron’s face lit up with his lopsided grin. “Oh yeah? You like it?”

“I don’t mind it,” she corrected.

“What did you call my beard when Ginny said I looked like a monkey?”

“Dashing,” she mumbled. “And she said orangutan.”

“I much prefer your description.” His voice had pitched down just a hint.

Overwhelmed by the girlish giggle trying to make its way out of her, she giddily backed up a pace until she bumped against one of the room’s wooden posts. He leaned in. “Course you might not feel the same if I were to kiss you. Might be a touch scratchy.”

Her pulse quickened. “Were you planning on kissing me?”

Ron's grin widened as he stepped closer to her, causing her heart to race. "Were you hoping I would?"

Hermione felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she met his gaze. "Maybe," she whispered.

Without another word, Ron leaned in and pressed his lips gently against hers. She could feel the roughness of his beard against her skin, grounding her in a kiss that would otherwise make her float.

After a few blissful seconds, they pulled away from each other, their foreheads touching as they caught their breath.

“I think we should take this celebration up to your bedroom," said Hermione.

“Yeah we’d better go before Mum arrives,” Ron said, taking her hand and leading her up the multiple flights of stairs to his room.

After twenty four hours of heartache and self loathing, her mind was in a state of contentment again. Once they were in his room, she quickly spelled together their bed.

And then the moment seemed to pause and they stared at one another, not sure how to go back to kissing, or try their hand at something else. Hermione was hoping kissing could lead to something else that would keep her mind thoroughly distracted.

“Do you want to change for bed?” he asked, quickly finding the same Cannons t-shirt she’d worn the other day.

“Alright, but after that I want to celebrate you a bit more. It sounds like you were really amazing.”

His cheeks turned red and he rubbed his neck. “I did alright.”

“Hmmm… Why don’t you tell me about it?” she asked, walking towards him and trailing her hands along the bottom hem of his shirt.

He gave an appreciative hiss. “I can’t talk worth a lick when your hands are on me like that.”

“Then we’d better change and get in bed.”

Not waiting for him to gallantly turn around, she pulled off her shirt, feeling a thrill as he stared at her, mouth just slightly open but turning up at the edges and hiding in his beard. Her face flushed under his scrutiny, but she liked being stared at like she was a desirable woman instead of a prudish, emotionally damaged, skinny mess.

He shook his head and started taking his shirt off. She grinned at the sight, his long lean frame, the steady muscles of his pecs and arms bunching as he finished taking off his shirt.

She began to unbutton the top of her jeans and peeled them off. Like a returning volley in tennis, he did the same.

Down to only their underthings they stood still, flushed and raw as they stared at one another and took in every detail.

He broke the tension by picking up the Cannons shirt and silently offering it to her. She took it, rubbing the soft worn fabric between her fingers. She looked up to see him watching her, breath bated, cheeks flushing all the way to his ears. She loved how he was a combination of lust and innocence, one moment ravenously kissing her, the next chivalrously trying to cover her modesty.

She let the shirt fall from her hand.

He tilted his head in a silent question.

She answered his question by bounding into his arms.

She giggled in surprise as he hefted her up by her bottom just a moment, letting her legs cross behind his hips. His long fingers nearly spanned each globe as he kneaded them. She continued to kiss him, revelling in the powerful way he held her, and how the rugged beard felt against her.

He moved her quickly to the bed, but had less surety in his movement as he went to put her down, there being a wobbly-legged moment where he crouched, but was still unable to quite reach the low bed with her wrapped around him.

“Heh, thought I’d stick the landing better,” he huffed, unsteadily placing her on the bed. She smiled and pulled him towards her, fingers curling around his broad shoulders.

“Next time I’ll build a taller bed,” she murmured, wanting to feel him against her. He smelled of pine needles and fresh air. He felt warm and firm against her.

She wanted to take in every detail of him: his countless freckles over every contour of his face, the riot of reds and oranges through his hair that wavered like a flame each time he moved.

And then she looked up into his deep-set blue eyes. Her heart beat faster seeing the tender gaze he had in his face. He had so many shades of blue in his eyes, like an early evening sky just beginning to dim. He was like a painting, and they had chosen all the best complementary colours that made him vibrate with life.

“You’re beautiful,” she let out, wanting to smother herself as he incredulously looked at her then burst out into a chuckle. He laughed the same way he did everything, with his full feeling and full body going into it. “Don’t laugh!”

“Sorry!” he wheezed, rolling off her and to the side to continue laughing, “just think your bun might be twisted too tight.”

“It’s not funny!” It made her furious he’d find that so laughable.

“There are a lot of words to describe me— you probably know more words than anyone— so it’s pretty funny you’d choose… that,” he said with a snort, clearly uncomfortable.

Hermione found herself irascibly tongue-tied, which especially seemed to happen when he was down on himself.

The dark thoughts began creeping up on her… Useless. Empty vessel.

“I do know a lot of words,” she finally said, poking him in the side. “Exasperating, childish, mercurial!”

He gave a chuckle, looking fondly at her, happy to be teased by her again. She wouldn’t let him off so easily.

“Heroic, witty, good…” Her fingers traced the swirling silvery scars up his arms. “And yes, beautiful.”

He shifted under her gaze. “I’d rather save that one for you.”

“If you like,” she said, more to get along than because she’d ever thought the term could seriously apply to herself. “But altogether you have to know I think… I think you’re just about perfect.”

His eyes rapidly blinked. “Oh.”

“I’ve always felt that way… You were always this fiery boy who felt things so deeply and I was drawn in.”

“Long noses and tattered hand-me-down robes had you done for, hmm?”

“You can try to deflect all you like, but like I said earlier, I’m celebrating you!” She gave him a small shove and he winced as he put more weight on his left arm.

“Is it still hurting?” she asked, sitting up.

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly.

“Well, they should have healed you properly, instead of sending you home hurting!” she said, pushing him back on the bed so she could look at his arm. It was the same one she’d Splinched all those months ago.

Blood spattered leaves flickered in her memory and she had to shake her head to rid herself of the dark red pools.

“Let me take a look.” She went to grab his arm, but he flinched away.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” she told him firmly, having him twist his wrist for her. His hand shook a bit as he did so, the range of motion stiff and unsteady. “You need to see the Auror’s Healer tomorrow. I don’t think they healed it right.”

“Okay,” he said, a petulant set to his jaw.

“We need you in good fighting shape for the final exam.” She took his knuckle and kissed it, surprised at the ease of such a new gesture for them. “So? Tell me about today’s exam.”

“Oh, Harry told most of it,” he said, lying back on his pillow.

Harry had told the gist of it. He was good at getting across the essential information, but it wasn’t like Ron, the story-teller of their group.

Their letters were the same as when they told stories in real life: Harry was a good communicator in his letters, mostly because he was trapped with his horrid relatives and it was his only escape. Harry’s letters would tell about various happenings, but only get very detailed if there was some big mystery to unravel. Ron’s were different in every way- he’d go on into details about little interactions between gnomes, or go off about his mother’s reactions to the twin’s newest pranks— he painted a picture; personal and thoroughly engaging.

“He might have, but he wasn’t there for all the moments your teams were split up. And even if he had told us, I’d still want to hear it from you,” she said, grabbing a blanket to cover up their nearly nude states.

“Fine then,” he hummed as she settled into the spot just above his heart to listen. In this position she could feel his baritone voice rumble through her in a comforting vibration, and in the lulls of his story she could just manage to hear his heart beat, strong and steady.

His voice was quiet and low as he told her all about the Bots and the ride across the lake, then made her gasp as he told her about saving an ungrateful Ramona.

“You dove your broom into the water?”

“Well I had to if I wanted to have an intact team,” he said with a shrug that temporarily tilted her head away from him.

The horrors continued as he described the Aging Mist, but she had to admit the leftovers of it were more than intriguing.

She had never pictured Ron with a beard before and she’d have to convince him to grow it back someday. Hermione buried her head into his chest after he described the fall from the broom.

“I can’t believe they let you fall all that way! It’s completely barbaric!”

“I told them it was fucked up,” he agreed, long calloused fingers trailing along her side. “But I’m okay, minus the arm, and I passed.”

The entire picture of it left her in awe. Ron Weasley had a talent for that, though. Every time she thought he’d proven what all he could do, he’d burst through her high expectations and do something even more amazing. He never appreciated the surprise she’d show when she marvelled at him. No, she’d need to be more firm in her praise.

“I’m really proud of you.”

His eyes widened and he let out a small, “really?”

Despite his current beard, he looked so young and innocent. She thought of first year when he won points for his chess game and the look of wonder that anyone had noticed him, let alone given him attention and praise on such an epic scale.

“Yes. Your plans were brilliant, and you lead your team so well.” She’d almost wished it had been a poor fit so he wouldn’t be an Auror, but it was obvious he was a natural.

“I dunno…” he said, blushing and tucking his head down.

“I do,” she replied, curling a leg around his and bringing him in for a kiss. It began as tentative and assuring, but Ron could always be depended on to react swiftly— just like with their first kiss when she went in first— he quickly met her with passion and caught her to him. His kisses somehow improved every time and he had now mastered the art of leaving her breathless, brainless, heated and needy. He was so amazing, and kind to others and — she broke the kiss. “You weren’t supposed to be so self sacrificing!”

“Huh?” he asked her, still kiss-drunk.

“I told you I don’t want you to be a hero saving people! I wanted you to be selfish and so you’d always come back to me. That’s the plan with the Aurors!”

“I’ll try,” he said, eyes very much set on her mouth.

“Well, try harder,” she said, holding his wrist for inspection again. She absolutely despised the thought of him laying down his life for anyone, but that Ramona character was so unworthy of it she wanted to spit.

He gave a short chuckle and she scowled up at him.

“I’ll try harder, since you care so much,” he said, nudging his forehead against hers.

“You should try harder whether I care or not!” she demanded, poking his chest. To her annoyance he gave another laugh. “It’s not something you should be so cavalier about.”

“I’m not cavalier,” he said, mouth trying and failing to contain a smile.

“Take what I’m saying seriously!”

“Oh I take you more seriously than anything,” he vowed, all mock sternness as he leaned in and kissed her again.

She couldn’t stay mad as his lips moved against her own. The kisses quickly blossomed into a fevered frenzy as their bodies moved against each other in a natural rhythm. His hand sprawled the width of her back, and fingers slid up and under her bra band for a tantalising moment, before his whole arm encompassed her waist and held her closer. There was nothing like the sweet intensity of being surrounded by him, feeling his warmth and care moving against her skin.

She moved her hips forward and felt his hardness beginning to press against her.

His hands skimmed up and down her sides, just holding back from intimately grazing her breasts.

“Rooon, please just touch me,” Hermione breathed into his mouth before kissing him deeply again. She didn’t care if she sounded desperate or silly, she wanted Ron’s hands upon her. And then they were, thumbs pressing across her breasts and teasing her nipples until they stood taut and tight under her bra.

Her soft moans encouraged him, and he leaned forward, kissing his way down down her chest until he nestled up to her breast. He looked up at her for silent permission she happily gave, nodding as he gently moved the cup of her bra and took her nipple into his mouth.

Her hands trailed through his soft fiery hair. As a couple they slowly fell back into his bed. It surprised her how he could be on top but she didn’t feel smothered or crushed; he just managed to keep enough of his weight above her to make it comfortable.

His fingers trailed down to her cotton pants, just teasing the elastic.

“I want to touch you,” he whispered as two of his long calloused fingers dipped just a touch around the edge of her pants. “That okay?”

“Please,” she whimpered, not wanting him to ask anymore. She just wanted him everywhere without pause. “Do whatever you want.”

His eyebrows went up at that, and a wicked smile lit his lightly flushed face.

“Alright then,” he said, voice nearly as deep as she’d ever heard it.

He gently began to slide the pants down her legs and she quickly assisted by raising her hips. She was naked before him, but all thoughts of modesty left her as his fingers returned. With tenderness they explored her nethers, crooking and coaxing, making her let out sounds she never thought she’d be capable of that quickly. He’d definitely been paying attention the last time, because he knew every spot and angle.

“You’re so wet for me,” he moaned and she let out a gasped, “yes!”

His touch scorched and filled her with bliss until her mind was clear of anything but Ron, Ron, Ron.

“Ron!”

Then his mouth was on her clit and sucking, fingers still exploring. She gave a heady sound of approval, feeling the momentum and tightening coil in her centre. He fingered her faster, the sounds of her slickness and gasps filled the room, and with a final buck of her hips she felt the coil release. Her orgasm crashed over her, leaving her twitching around his fingers, muttering nonsense of thanks and curses as he kept pumping his fingers, slower and slower through the waves of contractions.

In an enticingly filthy moment he licked those fingers and smiled up at her.

Not giving him more than a moment to bask in his triumph, she grabbed him by the sides of his face to properly kiss. He scrambled up her body and quickly complied. His beard was wet with her, and somehow that made her even more turned on.

They kissed and she rubbed her wet fanny up and down his tented boxers, feeling the hardness pressing against her, just barely teasing her, ready to enter her if not for the boxers. They both stopped, looking down at what they were doing.

“Erm… I don’t think… Are-you-ready-for—?” he began.

“Maybe not quite yet…” she agreed.

“How about I keep my boxers on?”

Part of her wanted to see his hardness. Part of her wanted to have him take her virginity right there. She wasn’t sure if she was ready, though. Maybe she was? But it was probably better to know instead of guess. It’d be difficult to resist letting him plunge into her if he removed that last barrier.

“Okay, boxers on,” she said, moving herself back into the position they’d just been in.

She ground her hips upward, canting until he was again teasing her slickness.

“Fuck! You feel so fucking good,” Ron panted, starting to hump into her with equal fervor. “Have a perfect little pussy.”

The dirty words made her speed up her movements, and seemed to push him towards the edge as well. She kissed him again, urgent and without finesse, only passion and hunger guiding her. After only a minute or so he gave a low grunt and spent himself.

The two lay there, panting and entwined, basking and senseless, unable to think of anything to say. They were smelling of sex and had very nearly gone all the way, and she felt a sense of satisfaction that made her fall into a boneless puddle.

“Fuck me, that felt amazing,” Ron weazed, before wobbily lowering himself to give a her quick kiss. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Hermione replied, too tired to even think of cleaning up or looking for her wand. Ron was much in the same boat. He curled around her, nuzzling his face up on her naked breast.

After a few minutes he mumbled into her side, ”this is by far the best pillow I’ve ever had.”

Hermione let out a puff of a laugh. She played with his hair and stared at the ceiling, watching his posters moving. She’d nearly dozed off when he began moving. With his absence, she suddenly felt how naked and filthy she was.

She could hear the sound of him standing and watched as he removed the boxers, his cock still partially hard. She held herself back from smacking his cute bum as he leaned down to find his wand that had rolled onto the floor.

He said a few cleaning charms and the sticky wetness was gone.

“Er, maybe we should do a charm?” he said, face going a bit red.

“Charm?” Hermione dazedly asked.

“You know… the, er… contraceptive-charm,” he muttered.

“Oh yes!” she said, sitting up. They probably were safe, but it rapidly occurred to her that they were walking a precarious line, especially considering how young they were. She found her wand and did the incantation. She had Ron do it too, just in case she’d not managed it correctly.

Ron handed her the Cannons shirt a second time. This time she took it. “Don’t feel like you have to cover up, because seeing you with yours tits out is just about my favourite sight.”

“Seeing your arse is welcome too,” Hermione shyly laughed, holding the shirt to her chest.

“You like my arse?” he asked, a bit cockily as he put on some new boxers.

“I thought you already knew that,” she said, putting on the orange t-shirt. As much as she wanted to bask in Ron’s attention, she was cold and didn’t want a naked run-in the next morning with Harry or, Merlin-forbid, Mrs Weasley.

“How in the world would I?” He got into the bed and stretched out to his full length, foot going over the end of the bed. He propped his head up with one hand and stared at her expectantly.

“Back when we left Bill and Fleur’s wedding and you changed clothes and I packed your tight jeans,” she muttered, eyes fixed on the bed spread. She thought it had been obvious.

“Y’mean you did that on purpose?” She nodded, glancing up at Ron who gave a chuckle. “And here I was, miffed I couldn’t so much as shift one nut.”

“Or fit your wand,” added Hermione.

“I swear you go straight filthy after we’ve had a roll around,” he said, poking her nose.

“What did I say?” she asked, before giving a huff. “You know I meant your magic wand and not... You’re absolutely perverted!”

“Mmmhmm,” he agreed, turning the light off. “But now I know you’ve been eyeing my arse for at least ten months and even plotted to see it better. Who’s the pervert now?”

She blushed anew and curled up into her side of the bed.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he softly added. “I like knowing you thought of me like that.”

“I still do.”

“Right,” he added, giving her a small nudge. “Thanks for that.”

“I have no choice in the matter. It’s always been you,” she said with a shrug. It was an easy thing to say, for it was as true a fact as the moon circled the earth and the North Star was constant.

She heard his breath catch before resuming again. For the longest time, he didn’t reply. She was about to ask if he was asleep when she heard a quiet, “and you for me. You’ve always been my girl.”

She smiled at the thought. Niggling thoughts of his interest in Lavender, Fleur and Madame Rosmerta tried to buck their way in, but she kept them at bay knowing none of that mattered— she had Ron Weasley beside her in bed and he’d said he loved her just the other day.

As the giddiness wore off and sleep started to beckon, she realised she hadn’t put a silencing charm on herself yet. She couldn’t very well do the charm and not have an explanation in place.

“Erm, Ron?”

“Hunf?” he grogged.

“I was snoring the other night,” she lied. “You need your sleep, so I’m going to put a silencing charm on myself.”

He breathed in slow breaths of someone mostly asleep before he gave a nonsensical, “s’okay. Go backta work.”

Soon he was snoring away, somewhat muffled by the pillow he had his face buried in.

She put the spell on herself and fell asleep to the sawing snores of Ron.

Hermione woke up to a hint of sunlight warming her nose, gave a lazy stretch and looked to her side. A hint of ginger hair poked above the blanket.

She smiled and rolled over to find Crookshanks giving a large stretch before waddling her way with a small ‘mrrrrowl.’

As happy as she was to have her cat boop her with his head and purr, she had hoped to wake up to Ron. As if he knew her thoughts, Crookshanks went to the door, gave a demanding meow, and gave her a stare that clearly meant ‘now.’

She undid her silencing spell and was about to get up for the demanding feline when there was a small knock at the door.

“It’s me,” came Ron’s voice.

“Come in.”

He opened the door, bringing a plate covered in a gingham towel, and a sweet smile that made her feel a flutter in her middle. Crookshanks wound around his ankles.

“Go on, you mangy beast,” he muttered, but he had a fond smile on his face as he watched Crookshanks prance out the door.

His jaw was pink from being recently clean-shaved. She’d been fond of the beard, though she thought him every bit as handsome without it.

“It’s your room, you don’t have to knock,” she said, as he approached the bed.

“Didn’t want to interrupt you changing or something.” He blushed and gave a shrug. She ducked her head and smiled at how they were back to shy teenagers in the light of day. “Brought you breakfast.”

With a flick he removed the towel from the plate. The toast and eggs and fruit all looked and smelled perfect. Her mouth watered, but her hands clenched.

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing a piece of toast and taking a bite, hand held under to catch crumbs. “Have you eaten yet?”

He nodded and put the plate on the bedside table beside her, obviously displeased that she hadn’t taken the fork and started shovelling food.

Ron went to his roll top desk and took out the book of Snatchers and his mysterious papers from the night before. Eating felt even more impossible.

He was holding the book and hadn’t seemed to realise his torturers could be in there. And she was going to let him find them without warning him. If she let him know about the Snatchers he might avoid the book altogether, and then she’d never know their identity.

“Kingsley wants us to mail this to him after?” he asked, holding up the book.

She nodded.

Ron whistled and Pig fluttered through the window.

“Dunno if he can carry the book, actually,” Ron said with a small laugh. Pig puffed up his chest and made a mad scramble for the book, enthusiastically carrying it a few feet towards the window. “Not yet, you little numpty!”

With a grunt, Ron caught the little owl from the air and the book tumbled to the ground, falling open to a page of Snatchers. Even from the bed she could see the borders of two Snatchers turn a glowing orange.

Ron stood frozen, staring at the book. His ruddy cheeks paled and his eyes widened just a hint.

Having no idea how long she would get to look at the Snatchers before their identities were lost to her, Hermione quickly bent down and picked up the book.

The two Snatchers shared the last name Crowthers. They were clearly related, even without knowing their names. They were thick-set men, with prominent jumps in their nose bridges, the same sloping heavy brows and wavy near-blonde hair that went into overgrown mutton chops. Marcellus Crowthers had a somewhat thinner neck and somewhat softer and duller look compared to his brother. Otho Crowthers looked ahead with a malevolent stare, and a cruel smirk that hinted at a cold indifference. He also had ears with overlarge cartilage around the edges. She had seen that before in a rugby match her father was watching. He called it ‘cauliflower ear’ — a deformity caused from blunt force trauma to the ear. One normally saw that in wrestlers and boxers. In this case, she imagined he’d been in many a brawl.

Ron had been silent a long time.

“The pictures glow orange if you recognise someone,” she murmured, closely watching Ron as she lifted the book up. He stared at the pictures with rapidly thinning lips. “You touch your wand to them if they committed a crime you witnessed and the border turns green. If you also think of the crimes they committed when touching the photo with your wand, it lists the crimes.”

He blinked at the page.

“I don’t need to do that.”

“No one can see it except you and the staff who are doing the trial. It’s so they know what crimes to charge them with and can ask you to be a witness if they need to. It also saves them interviewing you to know which crimes you witnessed.”

His normally expressive face dulled until he looked worn and thin as an old flag about to rip in the wind.

Without saying a word he took his wand out and held it to the book.

As the pictures budged over for the text she saw Marcellus’s photo did not need much space for whatever he’d done. Otho Crowthers, on the other hand, needed photos to move and make way for the invisible list of his crimes.

She was going to find him and hurt that man. It wasn’t a question in her mind. She’d have to, for whatever he’d done to Ron. She’d kept that Skeeter woman in a jar for weeks, and cursed Marietta Edgecomb’s face for crimes that now seemed so small by comparison. Yes, Otho Crowthers was going to pay; in blood if she could make it happen.

Ron stared at the text she couldn’t see, face horribly devoid of emotion.

When he’d stared at it for over a minute she finally spoke.

“Harry and I found Fenrir and a few of the Snatchers that got us before Malfoy Manor,” she quietly told him. “Are these some of the Snatchers you came across last winter?”

He nodded and gave a rough swallow. “Yeah.”

She had to remind herself that she didn’t ‘officially know’ what had happened to him. He hadn’t told her yet. She couldn’t force him to talk about it now; not when he was staring at those faces; not when he had a career dependent test that evening and needed his wits about him.

She needed to lighten the mood somehow, but had no gift in that. Distraction was all she could think to do.

“These eggs look perfect. I suppose Ginny didn’t cook.”

“No,” he said with a wane perfunctory smile, obviously made for her sake.

“Your mum?”

“Mhmm,” he replied, turning the page so harshly he almost tore it. With purpose, he turned to the S names, scanning with his finger until he found a man named Stennis Smythe.

“You know their names?” she asked in astonishment.

“Only the three.” He quickly touched the photo of Smythe with his wand and photos moved a bit for the invisible list of crimes to form. It wasn’t quite as long as Otho Crowthers’, but it was close.

He silently searched through the book until he’d found three more figures he went through so fast she barely had time to see their photos; a gaunt bald man, a man with a dark beard, and a small round-faced man.

“I thought there were five of them, not six,” she said, as he went back to Greyback and others she was familiar with.

“One of them was unconscious by the time I was escaping, so it was five of them versus me,” he said shortly, finishing up the book, putting a feather-light spell on it, and holding it out for Pig. “Take this to Kingsley.”

Pig seemed to sense Ron’s unease, and landed on his shoulder, leaning in to him until his little owl head was resting on his owner’s jaw.

“Thanks, little guy,” said Ron, giving the small bird a small tickle on his chest.

With a tiny hoot, Pig leapt down and took the book, over compensating for what he thought would be a heavy book, and nearly hitting himself on the ceiling. He regained his flight path, and made his way out the window.

They both watched the owl until he was gone.

“Are you alright?” she quietly asked Ron.

“What?” he asked in return, looking back at her. “Oh— Oh yeah I’m fine.”

He had just lied through his teeth, putting on a grimace of a smile. “Now that’s all over and done with, I’d like to show you something.”

She felt nervous as he guided her to sit, but was still standing himself. His hands nervously fiddled with the edge of the papers. After having to hold her tongue with the Snatchers book, she had little patience for whatever surprise he was going to spring on her.

“So…” he said, rocking back on his heels a moment and biting his lip, eyes fixed on the papers. “I was looking for a quill and ink the other day and needed to borrow some from you. You and I definitely need to do some quill shopping later— I know, it’s not book shopping, but it’s still one of your favourites…”

He glanced up at her, clearly trying to soften her up. She raised her eyebrows in a sign for him to continue.

“Yeah, right… Erm…” he coughed. “I didn’t mean to pry, but in your bag I found your notes about finding your parents.”

She suddenly felt cold.

“So I went and talked to Percy because he’s in charge of family reunification. There’s a discretionary fund for helping with the costs of it, like portkeys and travel expenses, and I told him everything I knew about your parents and their new names and their jobs and— and then he came to me today at the Auror office after the exam and… Hermione, they’ve found your parents.”

She stared at him, mouth agape, brain staggered as well as if she’d been hit over the head with a frying pan. She could feel her brain trying to restart, emotions trying to flicker to life, actions trying to animate her. She could flee the room she was so overwhelmed, or she could angrily hex him for his interference, or rain down hugs and kisses upon him until he was absolutely smothered in love.

She settled on bursting into tears.

“I’m sorry!” he said, quickly hovering his hands over her, seemingly not sure where to place them. “Did I— Should I not have done that? I’m so sorry. I just wanted to help, and—”

“Ron—” she began, but her sobs choked and overwhelmed any words.

“If you don’t want the Ministry’s money, it’s okay! I got that job at the Pub so I could save up some money to help you,” he reached under his bed and took out a bag filled with Muggle cash, putting it on her lap. “So I can help pay for that! And then there’s the Auror signing bonus— y’know, if I pass—” he said in a low voice.

He shook his head, undeterred. “So we can make this happen. However you want. I just want you to be happy, and thought this might help, but now you’re crying and—”

“Ron Weasley!” she wetly cried through a sob.

He wilted in front of her.

“You… You high handed…” He flinched. “Perfectly wonderful man.”

He looked up, mouth a perfectly open ‘o.’

“You’re… you’re not mad?” he asked, peering hopefully at her.

Unable to articulate the roiling emotions, she shook her head and continued to sob, hands curling around the wads of money he’d laid in her lap.

“We’ll get you your parents back and we’ll make everything okay again,” he said, putting his much larger hands on hers. “Right after my C.R.E.s are done, we can go, if you want.”

She nodded, though a gravid feeling of dread began to grow in her gut at the thought of seeing her parents so soon. She wasn’t ready, but she was too much of a shamed coward to say so out loud.

Instead she let Ron hold her hands as she cried. She cried for how much she loved Ron and how kind and wonderful he was. She cried in relief that she didn’t have to get money or resources to find her parents. And she cried knowing that when she brought back their memories they’d finally be lost to her for good.

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author’s notes:

A special thank you to everyone who took the time to write a comment! Y'all are so thoughtful and I thoroughly appreciate you all so much. You keep me inspired! :D Let me know what you thought.

ETA- forgot to add link to the duelling stuff about Ron- one of my fave metas and I had to insert it somewhere in here

Chapter warnings: depressed/anxious/scattered thinking, character ‘death’, description of blood and wounds, explicit sex scene, swearing

If you want to skip the explicit sex scene, but not accidentally miss anything, here are the words to stop and start at: STOP AT: 'The kisses quickly blossomed into a fevered frenzy as their bodies moved against each other in a natural rhythm.' START AGAIN AT: 'The two lay there, panting and entwined, basking and senseless, unable to think of anything to say.'

#waking up #ron weasley #hermione granger #romione #hp fanfic #my writing #waking up chapter 13

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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California to smash prison e-profiteers

On Weds (May 10), I’m in Vancouver for a keynote at the Open Source Summit and a book event for Red Team Blues at Heritage Hall and Thu (May 11), I’m in Calgary for Wordfest.

It’s a double-whammy that defines 21st century American life: a corporation gets caught doing something terrible, exploitative or even murderous, and a government agency steps in — only to discover that there’s nothing it can do, because Reagan/Trump/Clinton/Bush I/Bush II deregulated that industry and stripped the agency of enforcement powers.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/08/captive-audience/#good-at-their-jobs

Man, that feels awful. The idea that extremists gutted our democratically accountable institutions so that there’s nothing they can do, no matter how egregious a corporation’s conduct is so demoralizing. Makes me feel like giving up.

But the law is a complex and mysterious thing. Regulators aren’t actually helpless. There are authorities, powers and systems that the corporate wreckers passed over, failed to notice, or failed to neuter. Take Section 5 of the FTC Act, which gives the Commission broad powers to prevent “unfair and deceptive” practices. Since the 1970s, the FTC just acted like this didn’t exist, even though it was right there all along, between Section 4 and Section 6.

Then, under the directorship of FTC chair Lina Khan, Section 5 was rediscovered and mobilized, first to end the practice of noncompete “agreements” for workers nationwide:

https://mattstoller.substack.com/p/antitrust-enforcers-to-ban-indentured

A new breed of supremely competent, progressive regulators are dusting off those old lawbooks and figuring out what powers they have, and they’re using those powers to Get Stuff Done. It’s like that old joke:

Office manager: $75 to kick the photocopier?

Repair person: No, it’s $5 to kick the photocopier, $70 to know where to kick it.

There’s a whole generation of expert photocopier-kickers in public life, and they’ve got their boots on:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

This is the upside of technocracy — where you have people who are appointed to do good things, and who want to do good things, and who figure out how to do good things. There are dormant powers everywhere in law. Remember when Southwest Air stranded a million passengers over Christmas week and Transport Secretary Pete Buttigieg responded by talking sternly about doing better, but without opening any enforcement actions against SWA?

At the time, Buttigieg’s defenders said that was all he could do: “Pete isn’t the boss of Southwest’s IT department, you know!” He’s not — but he is in possession of identical powers to the FTC to regulate “unfair and deceptive” practices, thanks to USC40 Section 41712(a), which copy-pastes the language from Article 5 of the FTC Act into the DOT’s legislative basis:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

The failures of SWA were a long time coming, and were driven by the company’s shifting of costs from shareholders to employees and fliers. SWA schedules many flights for which they have no aircraft or crew, and when the time to fly those jets comes, the company simply cancels the emptiest flights. This is great for SWA’s shareholders, who don’t have to pay for fuel and crew for half-empty planes — but it’s terrible for crew and fliers.

What’s more, selling tickets for planes that don’t exist is plainly unfair and deceptive. A good photocopier-kicker in charge of the DOT would have arrived with a “first 100 days” plan that included opening hearings into this practice, as a prelude to directly regulating this conduct out of existence, averting the worst aviation scheduling crisis in US history. That’s what Buttigieg’s critics wanted from him: a competent assessment of his powers, followed by the vigorous use of those powers to protect the American people.

One domain that’s been in sore need of a photocopier-kicker for years is prison tech. America (“the land of the free”) incarcerates more people than any nation in the history of the world — more than the USSR, more than China, more than Apartheid-era South Africa.

For corporate prison profiteers, those prisoners are a literal captive audience, easy pickings for gouging on telephone calls, books, music, and food. For years, companies like Securus have been behind an incredibly imaginative array of sadistic tactics that strip prisoners of the contact, education and nutrition that governments normally provide to incarcerated people, and then sells those prisoners and their families poor substitutes for those necessities at markups that cost many multiples of the equivalent services in the free world.

Think of prisons that reduce the amount of food served to sub-starvation levels, then sell food at high markups in the prison commissary. For prisoners whose families can afford commissary fees, this is merely extortion. But for prisoners who don’t have anyone to top up their commissary accounts, it’s literal starvation.

This is the shape of every prison profiteer’s grift: take something vital away and then sell it back at a massive markup, dooming the prisoners who can’t afford it. The most obvious way to gouge prisoners is by charging huge markups for phone calls. Prisoners who can afford to pay many dollars per minute can stay in touch with their families, while the rest rot in isolation.

In 2015, the FCC tried to halt this practice, passing an order capping the price of calls, but in 2017, the DC District Court struck down the order, ruling that the FCC couldn’t regulate in-state call tariffs, which are the majority of prison calls:

https://www.cadc.uscourts.gov/internet/opinions.nsf/0/C62A026B396DD4C78525813E004F3BC5/%24file/15-1461-1679364.pdf

This was a bonanza for prison profiteers. Companies like Jpay (now a division of Securus) cranked up the price of prisoners’ calls. At the same time, dark-money lobbying campaigns urged prisons to get rid of their in-person visitation programs in the name of “safety”:

https://www.mic.com/articles/142779/the-end-of-prison-visitation

Not just visitation: prisons shuttered their libraries and banned shipments of letters, cards and books — again, in the same of “safety.” Jpay an its competitors stepped in with “free tablets” — cheap, badly made Chinese tablets. Instead of checking out books from the prison library or having them mailed to you by a friend or family member, prisoners had to buy DRM-locked ebooks at many multiples of the outside world price (these same prices were slapped on public domain books ganked from Project Gutenberg):

https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2018/07/24/no-cost-contract/

Instead of getting letters and cards from your family members and friends, you had to pay to look at scans of them, buying “virtual stamps” that had to accompany every page (they even charged by the “page” for text messages):

https://www.wired.com/story/jpay-securus-prison-email-charging-millions/

Enshittification is my name for service-decay, where companies that have some kind of lock-in make things worse and worse for their customers, secure in the knowledge that they’ll keep paying because the lock-in keeps them from leaving. When your customers are literally locked in (that is, behind bars), the enshittification comes fast and furious.

Securus/Jpay and its competitors found all kinds of ways to make their services worse, like harvesting recordings of their calls to produce biometric voice-prints that could be used to track prisoners after they were released:

https://theintercept.com/2019/01/30/prison-voice-prints-databases-securus/

Of course, once the prison phone-carriers started harvesting prisoners’ phone calls, it was inevitable that they would leak those calls, including intimate calls with family members and privileged calls with lawyers:

https://www.aaronswartzday.org/securedrop-prisoner-data/

Prison-tech companies know they can extract huge fortunes from their captive audience, so they are shameless about offering bribes (ahem, “profit-sharing”) to prison authorities and sheriffs’ offices to switch vendors. When that happens, prisoners inevitably suffer, as happened in 2018, when Florida state prisons changed tech providers and wiped out $11.8m worth of prisoners purchased media — every song prisoners had paid for:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/08/captive-audience-how-floridas-prisons-and-drm-made-113m-worth-prisoners-music

As bad as these deals are for prisoners, they’re great for jailers, who are personally and institutionally enriched by prison-tech giants. This is textbook corruption, in which small groups of individuals are enriched while vast, diffuse costs are extracted from large groups of people. Naturally, the deals themselves are swathed in secrecy, and public records requests for their details are met with blank, illegal refusals:

https://www.muckrock.com/news/archives/2018/may/25/laramie-county-prison-phones/

The “shitty technology adoption curve” predicts that technological harms that are first visited upon prisoners and other low-privilege people will gradually work its way up the privilege gradient:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/29/impunity-corrodes/#arise-ye-prisoners

Securus powered up the Shitty Tech Adoption Curve. They don’t just spy on and exploit prisoners — they leveraged that surveillance empire into a line of product lines that touch us all. Securus transformed their prisoner telephone tracking business into an off-the-books, warrantless tracking tool that cops everywhere use to illegally track people:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/10/technology/cellphone-tracking-law-enforcement.html

In other words, our jails and prisons are incubators that breed digital pathogens that infect all of us eventually. It’s past time we got in the exterminators and flushed out those nests.

That’s where California’s new photocopier-kickers come in. Like many states, California has a Public Utility Commission (PUC), which regulates private companies that provide utilities, like telecoms. That means that the state of California can reach into every jail and prison in the state and grab the prison profiteers by the throats and toss ’em out the window.

Writing in The American Prospect, Kalena Thomhave does an excellent job on the technical ins-and-outs of calling on PUCs to regulate prison-tech, both in California and in other states where PUCs haven’t yet been neutered or eliminated by deregulation-crazed Republicans:

https://prospect.org/justice/2023-05-08-california-prison-phone-calls-free/

Thomhave describes how California’s county sheriffs have waxed fat on kickbacks from the prison-tech sector: “for example, the Yuba County Sheriff’s Office receives 25 percent of GTL/ViaPath’s gross revenue on video calls made from tablets.” Small wonder that sheriffs offices lobby against free calls from jail, claiming that prisoners’ phone tariffs are needed to fund their operations.

It’s true that the majority of this kickback money (51%) goes into “inmate welfare funds,” but these funds don’t have to go to inmates — they can and are diverted to “maintenance, salaries, travel, and equipment like security cameras.”

But limiting contact between prisoners and their families in order to pay for operating expenses is a foolish bargain. Isolation from friends and family is closely linked to recidivism. If we want prisoners to live productive lives after their serve their time, we should maximize their contact with the outside, not link it to their families’ ability to spend 50 times more per minute than anyone making a normal call.

The covid lockdowns were a boon to prison-tech profiteers, whose video-calling products were used to replace in-person visits. But when pandemic restrictions lifted, the in-person visits didn’t come back. Instead, jails continued to ban in-person visits and replace them with expensive video calls.

Even with new power, the FCC can’t directly regulate this activity, especially not in county jails. But PUCs can. Not every state has a PUC: ALEC, the right-wing legislation factory, has pushed laws that gut or eliminate PUCs across the country:

https://alec.org/model-policy/telecommunications-deregulation-policy-statement/

But California has a PUC, and it is gathering information now in advance of an order that could rein in these extractive businesses and halt the shitty tech adoption curve in its tracks:

https://docs.cpuc.ca.gov/PublishedDocs/Efile/G000/M478/K075/478075894.PDF

That’s some top-notch photocopier-kicking, right there.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: A prison cell. Behind the bars is the bear from the California state flag. There is an old-fashioned telephone headset near his ear, such that he appears to be making a call.]

45 notes · View notes

bleue-flora · 7 months

Text

Me and my fellow fanfic author @midnight-fangirl01 yesterday were a bit unhinged on discord and I thought ya'll might enjoy it... so umm please enjoy this discord chat fic I guess. :) (mostly left the way it is btw)

Oh guess I should do warnings huh…TRIGGER WARNINGS: Quackity (… lol oh for real though) Descriptions/Mentions of Torture, Blood, Death, Injuries, Forced drug usage and Cussing… you know the standard prison arc stuff… ;)

If It Pleases The Court

{Prelude}

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 3:52 PM

Ah yes… getting arrested with all those dsmp laws… mmmm yes those………

Wait what laws?

“QUACKITY What Laws?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 3:53 PM

True

We don't do laws on Smp

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 3:54 PM

exactly

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 3:54 PM

Unless you're Dream in that case we have many laws you have conveniently broken

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 3:55 PM

Sam and Q check book - “Yes that is correct!”

Good glad we cleared that up……

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 3:55 PM

I know the laws of Smp so well ... damn I could be lawyer!

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 3:56 PM

Thought that was my job🙃🤣

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 3:56 PM

Damn

Gotta look for a different career then ....

Maybe Q could use some help with ideas 🤔

You know ... to help enforce the law

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 3:57 PM

Torturing blob does not count

Oh wait no Q talked about his “commute” so nvm perfectly good job

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 3:58 PM

Yay!

I could also be a judge 🤔 I know the Smp law well and I'd have an easy job

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:02 PM

“Dream, GUILTY. Everyone else, INNOCENT!”…. Easy

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:02 PM

I know ... we´d both have easy jobs 🤣

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:02 PM

Lol

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:04 PM

although things would get complicated if someone, god forbid, sympathized with Dream ... although who would ever commit such a crime? Punz, laughs nervously.

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:06 PM

If Punz spoke up on behalf of Dream, Dream would kill him because that defeats the whole point…

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:07 PM

oh! So easy again! Plus we have another point against Dream

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:07 PM

Exactly

He’d be so mad… imagine getting torture for a guy in prison for that guy to just ruin everything in court…

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:07 PM

Yeah, valid reason for murder

{DSMP Court in Session with Error-DreamWasFound as presiding judge}

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:08 PM

Now death penalty…. Or…forever in a torture box with a highly corrupt warden?

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:08 PM

brings down the hammer "Torture box!"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:09 PM

Tommy: “BOTH!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:09 PM

points at the kid "that! That´s the spirit! I approve!"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:10 PM

Everyone cheers

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:10 PM

"The case is closed!"

"what a productive day it has been"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:11 PM

True

pulls out next case - Pandora’s Box Vs Dream

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:13 PM

"Pandora wins. Next!"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:13 PM

(Before it gets nuked that is🤣)

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:14 PM

"wait, wait, wait who approved the nukes! That wasn´t me!

It´s probably Dream´s fault ... time to add to his sentence!

I'm officialy making it 2 forevers in a torture box!"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:15 PM

Tubbo walks in “I approved them because I'm big Law!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:15 PM

yells I´M THE LAW!

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:16 PM

"you´re lucky you´re not Dream ...."

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:17 PM

Dream screams “ACTUALLY THIS IS MY FUCKING SERVER SO IM THE LAW AND YALL ARE ALL TRESPASSING!!!!!!….. except Punz he’s nice he can stay… and Techno… BUT EVERYONE ELSE GET OFF MY DAMN PROPERTY!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:18 PM

"Shut up accused!

Why is he still here?! Sam!"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:19 PM

Bad stands up “Actually I pay for it, so technically it’s my property… and language!… but yea no y’all leave because you don’t have souls and the egg is better than yall anyways.”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:20 PM

"Who let the lunatic in 🤦‍♀️ I thought I said it clearly, no cultists in my court hall!"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:20 PM

Sam too busy cutting off Ponks arm for frowning at Dream’s sentence

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:21 PM

"Awesam! Leave the guy's arm be and come get your prisoner!"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:22 PM

Sam walks over awkwardly, before pulling Dream out with a wide smirk

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:22 PM

"Thank you ... finally

so what is on the schedule next?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:22 PM

Quackity sneaks out the back door after them

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:22 PM

looks away so I can´t be hold accusable later

"And someone already see the Egg fanatic out, please, he´s disturbing the process"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:24 PM

Skeppy grabs Bad and takes him out passing Ponk who’s bleeding out on the floor

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:24 PM

"Thank you

so is that all for today? Or does anyone has any other case? No Ponk you can´t sue Sam"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:25 PM

Ponk looks up “What?!?… why?”

“That’s not fair, can I at least sue Dream?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:25 PM

"Yes!

congratulations, you won

no need to trouble Sam and have him drag the prisoner back

Anyone else wants to sue Dream?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:27 PM

everyone raises their hand

Minus Punz who left

(Techno does it with smirk)

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:27 PM

sus .... gotta ask Sam to check it later

"Okay everyone, quiet down ... do you want this the fast way or short way?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:27 PM

Tommy stands up “I vote the Quackity Way!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:28 PM

"That´s my boy! Everyone, stand in line and pick a weapon of choice"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:29 PM

(Sam does not check later, too busy forcing potatoes down Dream’s throat to keep him alive…)

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:29 PM

mumbles to myself "why are we employing that idiot? ... Q do you have a minute?"

"No, don´t worry about Dream, others will keep him entertained"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:31 PM

Q looks very displeased, blood dripping down his shirt “Yea? What’s up?… I’m kinda in the fucking middle of something…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:31 PM

"Punz is acting sus and Sam´s ... ehm ... busy so I need someone to check"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:32 PM

Ponk struggles to carry an axe with his one arm

Q pouts “Can’t this wait until later….”

“These noobs are gonna have all the fun without me…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:33 PM

mumbles again "another idiot ...." out loud "You can have fun later, go check now"

"or get someone else to do it I'm not paid enough to deal with this"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:33 PM

Ponk struggles to carry an axe with his one arm

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:33 PM

"Remember, it´s all Dream´s fault. If it weren´t for him you´d have your arm, I know it´s hard but this is to make him pay! You can do it! Chop off his arm!"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:34 PM

Ponk and Foolish look at you disturbed, then Ponk whispers to Dream “I’m sorry” before doing just that

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:34 PM

"and by that I conclude the case Ponk vs Dream closed! Justice has been served!"

"Damn I´m really good at this job

now someone please reattach the arm so another person can have a go"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:35 PM

Q looks over at you “yea no kidding, you’re fucking nailing it!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:35 PM

"Aw thanks"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:36 PM

Sam sighs waking over “this is gonna be a long day…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:36 PM

"yeah, better get the healing pots in advance. And stop whining! You're getting paid for this"

"Just play some relaxing music and ignore the screams for a few hours 🤷‍♀️"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:36 PM

Ponk stares at him with a look that could kill

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:37 PM

"you want another go?

I´m sure it could be arranged 🤔"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:37 PM

Ponk looks back to you mumbling “No I want my arm back…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:38 PM

".... you can have Dream´s arm?

Everyone! Will any of you miss Dream´s arm?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:39 PM

they all pause in a longer then should be contemplation… “nah it’s fine.”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:39 PM

"Lovely, Ponk, you can have the arm 🙂"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:40 PM

Tommy stutters “wait why does that bitch get an arm?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:40 PM

"Cuz he lost one because of Dream, duh" rolls eyes

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:40 PM

Ponk looks at said mutilated arm “….thanks?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:41 PM

"you´re welcome"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:41 PM

Sam attaching Ponk’s new arm “at least this one has all the fingers still”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:41 PM

nods "Okay so who wants to go next?"

"And where the heck is Q? What is taking him so long ....?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:42 PM

Tommy clearly outraged “ Yea but like that’s not fucking fair!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:42 PM

sighs "Why not Tommy?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:42 PM

“Because Dream didn’t even touch Ponk, why does he deserve the arm?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:43 PM

"So do you want to sue Dream?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:43 PM

Tommy grins “Yes!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:43 PM

"Should´ve started with that! Okay, what do you want to sue him for?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:44 PM

Quackity wandering all over the smp muttering profanity, looking for Punz who’s sneakily disappeared

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:45 PM

reads the report on my comm, mutters another idiot ... I'm surrounded by idiots ... "Sam! Go help Q"

"He´s lost or something ...."

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:45 PM

Tommy looks like he’s solving world hunger in such deep thought “Everything?… ruining my life?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:45 PM

checks some papers "yeah seems valid"

"Dream? Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:46 PM

Sam in the middle of stitching up a long gash in Dream’s chest “Aw what now? I’m kinda busy here!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:47 PM

"Damn it ... turns to the rest can some of you please go look for Q?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:49 PM

Dream on back trying not to choke on his own blood “Oh come on, FUCK YOU TOMMY! You ruined my life by being a little annoying bitch.” coughs “…If anyone’s guilty it’s fucking you.”

Techno and Foolish make their way out rather fast, looking relieved

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:50 PM

notes down - the accused is not cooperating and is verbally attacking the plaintiff

"Since the accused decided to not make use of his chance to defend himself I declare him guilty!"

"Tommy, you won, congrats"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:51 PM

everyone claps, Niki and Jack making eye contact

Jack buts in “You’re honor, if I may, he was just pleading his case as your requested”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:52 PM

"Ehm, I didn´t say you may so the argument is invalid

Anyone else has some objection?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:53 PM

Ranboo recording the notes “just so I’m clear we would like to strike Dream’s testimony from the record as Here Say?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:55 PM

"Yes, please"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:55 PM

Ranboo brushing his hand to remove the blood that landed on his paper- it just smears in one red line over the word Dream “Ok.”

George raises hand like he’s in class, half awake “To be fair, Tommy burned my house, So he ruined my life!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:55 PM

"Thank you Boo ... finally someone competent"

thinks it through ... "would you like to sue Dream for it?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:56 PM

George looks at Dream bleeding out on the floor as Sam frantically tries to stop the bleeding “Nope. I wanna sue Tommy!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 4:56 PM

"Alright, let's hear it. What are your accusations?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 4:58 PM

George clears throat “Tommy has stolen and burned my house, but also griefed and robbed countless other properties. He is also a whiny childish bitch.”

Niki and Jack step up “We agree, he always starts conflicts that results with our homes being destroyed.”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:00 PM

"I see, and are you 100% sure that this was by no means Dream's fault?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:00 PM

George looks from side to side sheepishly “I mean…”

Dream stares at George looking half hurt and half wanting to kill the man who’s so easily turned

Niki and Jack sigh “yea… I mean… you do have a point but…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:04 PM

glares at Dream to make sure he doesn't say a word, then looks at George encouragingly "you're safe here George, feel free to continue. And you" looks at Nikki and Jack "please leave your opinion for when it's asked for"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:06 PM

George looks like he just want to crawl back to bed and give up because it’s too much work to continue “Well I mean… Tommy burning my house wasn’t related to Dream. Was it? Dream hates me…”

Dream looks at George, rolling his eyes then looks at Sapnap, who looks on the brink of tears, and he just snorts bitterly amused

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:08 PM

"Oh, so he may hate you? Does that mean that he could, theoretically, be responsible for the destruction of your house?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:08 PM

Tommy raises the axe about to take Dream’s other arm, while Sam tries to move out of the way in time

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:08 PM

"Sam! Get out of the way! We don´t have enough doctors to stitch you back together 🤦‍♀️"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:09 PM

George getting exasperated like a child refusing to go to bed “BUT HE DIDNT BURN MY HOUSE! Tommy did, Dream helped fix it!…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:10 PM

"And are you certain that this wasn´t just one of Dream´s manipulation tactics to mess with your mind?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:10 PM

Philza buts in confused “He helped fix your house? I thought you said he hated you?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:11 PM

"Phil, please ... you know what, since it´s a very good question I´ll let it pass."

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:12 PM

George bites his lip watching Tommy and Sam struggle with the axe over Dream’s body

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:13 PM

follows his gaze, mumbles to myself "what are those idiots doing?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:15 PM

George still staring blankly “I don’t know… he did he… said so.. or maybe he didn’t doesn't matter.. he hates us” George decides on before clenching his fist and turning to Sapnap “He hates us!… doesn’t he?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:16 PM

turns to Sap "Sapnap, can you confirm this statement?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:17 PM

Axe held between them Tommy holding the handle Sam holding the blunt end, they turn to look at George as everyone goes quiet

Tears weigh in Sapnap’s eyes as he stares at Dream who’s looking hurt and hopeful and pleading “He does. Tom—Quackity said he doesn’t care about anything!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:20 PM

nods "are there any other witnesses to confirm this statement?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:21 PM

Dream laughs something broken and bitter and hysterical pulling Sam's and Tommy's attention back to him

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:21 PM

pinches the bridge of my nose "Sam, keep your prisoner in check please, we´re in a middle of something here"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:23 PM

Tubbo looks at the scene conflicted and thinking “He did… but… he didn’t say Sapnap and George so… and he was… Tommy was…. He was…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:24 PM

"Is that a confirmation to Sapnap´s statement Tubbo? I'm afraid I need to you to express yourself more clearly"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:24 PM

Sam slaps Dream in the face making Dream choke in amusement

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:24 PM

"Thank you Sam"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:28 PM

“Tommy he—he was using Spirit’s remains to… black mail him and….” Tommy takes his venomous eyes off Dream and stares at Tubbo dumbfounded “What?” Tubbo ignores him “He was… Tommy he burned George’s house because he knew it’d piss off Dream… and … Dream was upset he was…. Well he never said he didn’t care about George he only said that he cares about the discs…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:29 PM

"Tommy, what is your version of the story?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:31 PM

Dream looks up at Tubbo absolutely dumbfounded like Tubbo has walked on water

Tommy steps on Dream’s hand yelling “WHAT NO! Tubbo, what the hell man?… look me and Ranboo” Ranboo looks up freaked out “we were just having some fun…and Dream he was being a bitch and he put walls around L'Manberg and he-he said he didn’t care about anything except my discs!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:34 PM

look at others "is that so?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:36 PM

everyone looks at Tommy then Tubbo then Tommy again “Tommy never lies, he’s always right!… but Tommy did just kinda confess to burning George’s house so…..”

Puffy frowning “But he’s a child!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:38 PM

"this is indeed a very difficult situation" thinks "however taking Tommy´s age and Dream´s well known negative influence into consideration, I came to the conclusion that Tommy is innocent and all the blame should be rightfully blamed at Dream as the SMP´s law says!"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:38 PM

Ranboo looks like he’s going to throw up and in Tommy’s distraction Sam manages to get the ax

everyone kinda pauses… “No yea fair enough, seems about right”

Dream smiles sadly like he expected nothing less and yet finds it mildly entertaining….. until Tommy wrangles the axe and tries to cut off his arm-it doesn’t work but gets about half way

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:43 PM

"Tommy! Stop with the murder! It´s George´s time now!"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:43 PM

George and Sapnap stare at each other in conflicted confused gazes before Dream screams and they turn to him again… everyone does… Sam cuts in “Shut up Dream! You’re fine.”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:44 PM

"Thank you Sam turns to Dream Dream, please, don´t disturb. We´re discussing something important here"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:44 PM

Tommy halfway through another swing stops “Awww but I want an arm….” he pouts “this green bitch just tried to turn everyone against me!…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:45 PM

thinks it through "does anyone here object against Tommy getting the arm?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:45 PM

Dream just stares at his mutilated shoulder involuntarily tears streaming down his face

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:45 PM

"Dream, please, stop making a scene

Sam, stitch him up, I don´t want him to bleed out ..."

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:46 PM

Everyone just stares at the gory scene quietly

Sam exasperated “That’s what I’m trying to do!… “

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:47 PM

"Try harder!"

"Okay everyone, unless you have another thing you want to sue Dream for I suggest we call it a day"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:47 PM

“I’m out of potions! Q used too many before they got here!”

Eryn wordlessly holds out a potion to Sam

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:49 PM

"Thank you Eryn"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:49 PM

Tommy takes the open opportunity to finish the job as Sam grabs the potion

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:49 PM

"Everyone, please go home. We can continue tomorrow when the guitly is in better condition"

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:49 PM

"Tommy!"

makes attempt to stop him

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:50 PM

-were too late- Dream screams, Sam drops the potion and everyone else just looks grossed out

Tommy picks up the severed arm and slings it over his shoulder, blood dripping over the sides “Ok I’m ready to go now”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:51 PM

is mildly disturbed by the scene

"O-okay ... everyone please go now. The process is over"

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:52 PM

takes deep breath trying to process the scene

searching my stuff for a potion, just short of frantic while Dream´s bleeding out a few steps away

"Does anyone have a potion?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:53 PM

Eryn gives a whole hand full of potions to Sam not taking his eyes off Dream as he leaves

Sam rushes to Dream and tries to pour a potion down his throat but Dream just continues to cough it up with blood

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:55 PM

"Shit" seriously worried now, tries to help Sam "come on Dream don´t do this"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:55 PM

Sam getting frantic “Damnit Tommy! does someone have a splash potion?!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:56 PM

searches my stuff again hoping that I just missed it the first time

"damn don´t stand there like idiots!"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:56 PM

Dream just smiles widely up at you and Sam as he chokes

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:56 PM

finds the potions "Not, yet Dream"

"No way you´re fucking dying this soon"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:58 PM

Hannah pulls out a potion hesitantly “Wouldn’t it… maybe we should just… let him die… I think he’s paid enough hasn’t he?… what happened to the death penalty?"

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 5:59 PM

stops in my attempts to save Dream and bits my lips hesitantly

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 5:59 PM

Dream’s wounds try to stitch back together as he looks at Hannah surprised and conflicted

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:00 PM

looks at Dream trying to decide. It was law ... it was my job and I liked it but ... for the first time I wondered ...

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:00 PM

Dream looks around at everyone for an answer… something… anything as he continues to bleed out

Dream’s pulse in your hand grows fainter as his skin gets cold

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:02 PM

"Fuck"

"Hannah! Give me the potion!"

I reach towards her urging to her to give me the glowing pink vial

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:03 PM

Hannah looks at you at everyone looking for something.. an answer? Humanity? Empathy? Murder?… getting nothing she turns to Dream who looks at her with tear filled pleading eyes

she hands you the potion

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:04 PM

I breathe out a sigh of relief, the yell for her to hurry dying on my tongue

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:04 PM

Hannah mouths an apology only Dream notices

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:04 PM

"Thanks"

pours the potion on Dream´s wound and watches it close

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:05 PM

Dream closes his eyes as it seals the wound on his shoulder-did he really want to live?

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:06 PM

"Dream ... I- ..." I hold down whatever I wanted to say, I saw that haunted look in his eyes, the resignation in them and my chest tightened with an unfamiliar feeling

"This is enough for today, everyone, leave. You too Sam

And tell Quackity to not come back either"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:07 PM

Sam opens his mouth to argue but closes it

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:07 PM

glares at him, challenging him to protest

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:08 PM

Sam sighs leaving, leading the others to follow the blood trail Tommy’s arm left behind

Puffy is the last one to leave her eyes lingering on her duckling an ‘almost’ conflicted look in her eyes

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:10 PM

I breathe a sigh of relief now that they´re gone, some of the tension I didn´t even realize was there, leaves my shoulders and I turn to Dream again

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:10 PM

Dream stares up at you face scrunched in pain and confusion

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:10 PM

I don´t notice Puffy´s look as I already reach for another potion, pressing it up to Dream´s lips, with a simple order "Drink it"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:11 PM

Dream obeys best he can as he watches behind you Puffy leaving

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:12 PM

observes the wounds all over his body close, my eyes lingers on his missing arms ... "I didn´t expect Tommy to ..."

"damn! I didn´t even really expect Ponk to ..."

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:13 PM

Dream laughs, it sounds terrible “You didn’t?”

“Really!?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:13 PM

"I shouldn´t be surprised right?" shrugs

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:14 PM

“I mean I thought you were one of the non idiots”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:14 PM

laughs sadly

"Yeah ... sometimes I forget how messed up this place is ..."

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:15 PM

“I think…. I think we all do…”

“It’s easy to be fucking reminded it isn’t it?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:15 PM

"Yeah ... yeah it is"

laughs again, edging on hysterical fuck, "this was- the job was supposed to be easy not- not this!" gestures around

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:16 PM

“Ah… I mean to be fair nothings ever fucking easy.”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:16 PM

"Are you .... are you okay?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:17 PM

Dream stars at you “that’s a joke right? Tell me that’s a joke.”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:18 PM

"Right ... dumb question" looks around trying to distract myself from looking at him

feeling awkward and wishing to leave but at the same time finding myself unable to do so

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:19 PM

Dream snorts at your clear guilt

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:19 PM

jumps at the sound and my eyes snap back to him

I open my mouth to say something, then close it again

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:20 PM

He stares up at you quietly asking “Why?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:20 PM

"What?"

I blink in surprise, trying to process what he´s asking me

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:22 PM

Dream coughs clearing his throat before going on raspily “You know why not let me die? Why send them away when I didn’t?…. I mean were there—were there not more cases you wanted to pin on me?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:24 PM

"I ... "I trial off unsure what to say. Because he was right no? Why? Why did I do it? There was no reason to, leaving him to die or letting them continue after he didn´t would be better, it´d be justice. Or ... would it? "I don´t know" I admitted weakly

"It wasn´t ... it wasn´t right ..." then why did it feel right at the start?

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:25 PM

“Wasn’t it? Wasn’t it justice?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:26 PM

wasn´t it? It should be ... but looking at the blood around it didn´t feel like it

"I don´t know" the tears pushing into my eyes blurred my vision, it was a mercy, I didn´t see the fresh wounds all over Dream´s body so clearly now

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:28 PM

“Hmm… you don’t know….” he trails off watching you, trying to read you

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:28 PM

"No ... not anymore"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:28 PM

“Aren’t you the judge?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:29 PM

"I ... I am. But I don´t make the rules ... there are laws ... I need to respect them" it sounded weak even to my own ears

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:29 PM

“Laws… right those” he says sarcastically

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:30 PM

"Dream ..." I try weakly, desperate to change the topic

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:31 PM

“You know… I get Tommy… I get all of them, but you? I mean you—I just thought maybe you’d see….”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:31 PM

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry Dream-"

I felt terrible, how could I be so stupid, how could I let the server corrupt me like this?

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:33 PM

Dream laughs he knows it isn’t funny but lying there aching with missing arms and a hole in his heart drilled by their lingering words and looks, he can’t help but find it funny

“That’s a first…”

“I don’t… I don’t blame you you know… they just—Tommy just… the rules I think are different here aren’t they?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:35 PM

my heart breaks a little at his words ... he doesn´t blame me? How? ... unable to bear it any longer I get up and start collecting the potions scattered all around

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:36 PM

“You just followed everyone else… ‘Dream is the problem’… you’re right, its the law right?…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:37 PM

I stop, clenching the glowing vial with enough force to make my knuckles go white before I force myself to relax my hold. I avoid looking at him when I answer "Don´t say that ... it´s not right"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:39 PM

Dream wants to ask ‘why?’ He wants to scream it, he want to know why the rules are different for him, why are his words always unheard… why does it hurt so much….

but he doesn’t

he knows the answer…

~meanwhile~ Techno and Foolish catch up to Q and Techno promptly punches him in the face

Punz watches from behind a building and laughs… Foolish notices

Punz knows he screwed up… but he’s also not sure why they are out here….

Techno, with his back turned, addresses Punz while pulling up Q from the ground where his punch put him “Hey Punz, wanna turn? He’s very punchable I assure you.”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:46 PM

Quackity curses them all out while Punz considers the offer

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:47 PM

Punz moves out of the corner causally cool “You don’t say?”

Techno handles Q to be stand and brushes the dust off him before shoving him towards Punz “I swear but ya know don’t just take my word for it.”

“If you insist” Punz smirks

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:49 PM

Quackity stumbles and panic overtakes his features "Wait what-?!"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:51 PM

Punz punches him and he lands in the dirt again this time his nose is bleeding… not that anyone can really tell considering all of Dream's blood

“Sure enough… You’re Right Techno, that was fun.”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:51 PM

Q stares up at Punz in shock, then anger "You fucking-!"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:52 PM

Foolish looks on from the side surveying stoically

Techno steps on Quackity’s hand as he tries to get up “My monetization!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:55 PM

Quackity yelps in pain and looks at Techno with a look that could kill, an insult already sitting at the top of his tongue

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:55 PM

Techno stares back amused

after a moment to make sure his point got across Techno removes his foot

Punz just glares as Q gets up holding his bruised hand

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 6:57 PM

Q glares at the other 3 wanting to curse, fight, curse some more- but the memory of his last encounter with Technoblade is still fresh in his mind

he thinks better of it

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 6:58 PM

still watching Q, Punz ask coolly “So… What are y’all doing it out here? Thought everyone was still at the trial…”

Foolish respond crossing his arms suspiciously “Everyone was… “

Techno cuts Foolish off “We left… it was getting…. Not family friendly so me and chat had to go… What about you? Thought you’d for sure have some cases to file with Dream, didn’t you like work with him or something?…”

Punz looks at Q at Foolish then at Techno…

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:02 PM

Quacktity eyes the piglin warily, trying to plan his escape

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:03 PM

Techno pretends not to notice… eyeing Punz like he's the only one there

Punz responds analyzing Techno’s expression… which is per usual rather unexpressive “I mean I worked for him sure, but it was about the money really and if he's being sued by everyone I hardly think I’ll get any money out of it. So I figured it was a waste of time…”

Foolish eyes him wearily still on guard but mostly accepts the answer

Techno smiles back friendly “Right right yea I had been wondering why you’d work for and then betray the Teletubby, but then again I guess everyone betrays him eventually….’

“I’ll keep a mental note to always have cash around to pay you huh.. don’t want to get betrayed and all… speaking of betrayed!” Techno lightens turning back to Q

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:09 PM

Q shies back involuntary, realizing that fuck this is bad

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:11 PM

Foolish shifts uneasily

“Quackity, what cha doing out here? See anything?…” Techno leads fishing for intel

Punz grips his sword staring at Q

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:15 PM

Quackity takes a step back putting his hands up

"Hey no need to get violent-"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:16 PM

Foolish steps behind him blocking his exit

Techno chuckles “No one's gettin violent Quackity, we’ll just chillin here, just me and my enemy and some dudes.”

Punz staring down Q “… Yea but like things could get violent… that’s a lot of blood on you Quackity… should I add some?”

Techno buts in to Punz approaching Q “Hey Hey there. we’re all friends here no need to get nasty… no need to cut off anyone’s arm here or nothin..”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:21 PM

Q forgets about Foolish and tries to step back

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:22 PM

They bump and Foolish contemplates his move, looking from Punz to Techno to Q waging their threat levels

“Then again I was thinking about opening another dentist practice… what cha think Punz, could be profitable? I was gonna open it with Dream but ya know you could be a good assistant too..”

Quackity flinches after bumping into Foolish “Hey look Punz if its money your after, I run a very profitable country”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:24 PM

Quackity is visibly scared now

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:25 PM

“You know we’ve got casinos and restaurants and all kinds of money… You could join and make a ton like you know…Foolish you want to back me up here?”

Foolish eyes Q contemplating, noticing all the blood… “I don’t know Quackity maybe the dentist would be more beneficial…”

Techno smiles “Yooo pog lets go, we’re gonna be dentists chat.”

Techno pulls out his pickaxe

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:29 PM

Quackity begins to shake, trying desperately to find a way to get out of it

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:32 PM

Tommy shows up covered in blood carrying an arm over his shoulder “Hey big Q, bitch you missed all the fun… Tubbo he well fuck him” Techno sighs “My monetization Tommy!” Tommy carries on unbothered “He he defended the green bitch can you believe that?...But hey it doesn't matter I still won!”

He starts skipping along the prime path leaving a trial of its builder’s blood behind

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:32 PM

everyone stares at him in utter shock

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:33 PM

“What the fuck!” Punz lets out

Techno almost shames Punz for his cuss but stops just staring at the hand that’s bouncing back and forth behind Tommy as he skips… Foolish just stares

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:35 PM

Even Quackity is at loss of words because what the hell just happened?

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:37 PM

Punz pulls out his sword looking at Q then Tommy then the blood line leading to where Tommy just came from… presumably the owner… trying to decides who to kill

He wants to kill everyone but the more his eyes follow the path back where Tommy came he grows concerned

Punz and Techno make eye contact before both of them sprint down where Tommy just came leaving Foolish and Q stunned

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:40 PM

Q immediately tries to take his chance and get as far away as possible

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:40 PM

But Foolish is bigger and stronger and tackles Q to the ground

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:41 PM

Quackity tries to wiggle out from under him

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:42 PM

The blood makes him slippery and he manages to get free from Foolish sprinting away as fast as he can

Foolish stands there now also disgusting “Shit…”

He contemplates going after Q but he doesn’t feel like running, its not his fight anyways

He thinks about going towards where everyone else is but he almost doesn’t want to know what happened… He think’s he prefers a million of Bad’s pranks over whatever the hell this is…

So he heads home for a shower… not sure what else to do…

by the time Punz and Techno arrive they are pushing and shoving through everyone who’s leaving, noticing the shock on their faces… including a very disturbed Phil which is a rare find

Puffy bumps into Techno falling and stumbling, Techno helps her get back up he doesn’t miss the tears in her eyes… but he can’t place the emotion

Before you know it, Punz is standing with a sword pointed at your throat

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:49 PM

I raise my hands in surrender, one if the healing potions still held in them

"Hey, hey no need for that"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:50 PM

Techno walks in to the scene taking it in “Woah there Punz… I think she was helping him”

Punz just now takes the moment to looks down at the armless man below him… his hands are shaking as he holds to sword but he doesn’t put it down “Dream?…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:51 PM

I look at him thankful, nodding to the best of my abilities with the sword at my throat

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:52 PM

before getting a response he turns back to you forcing the sword closer to your neck to which you back up until you hit the wall

“You!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:53 PM

I want to say something but the sword under my chin makes me think twice. I look at Techno begging him for help with just my eyes

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:53 PM

Techno slowly walks in and Punz looks back at him. Techno raises his hands

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:54 PM

A single drop of blood drips down my neck where Punz´s sword digs lightly into the sensitive skin. I barely dare to breathe

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:54 PM

Techno steps closer, slowly with his hands raised “Hey man calm down… no need for that. I think there has been enough violence. Lets.. lets hear the woman out we don't know what happened here.”

Punz wavers his whole body shaking with anger or something else its hard to say

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:56 PM

I press myself more firmly against the wall, trying to lighten the pressure of the blade on my neck

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:56 PM

Techno glances at you worried “Chat this isn’t workin help me out here…”

Dream coughs “Punz put down the sword… there’s no need for that.”

Punz hesitates before dropping his sword

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 7:59 PM

I take a deep breath, massaging my throat where the blade cut it

"Thank you"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 7:59 PM

Punz turns to you and glares, but doesn’t say anything

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:00 PM

I bit my lip, feeling terribly small and unsure under his gaze. A part of me wants to return to tending to Dream's unhealed wounds but I feel like that´s not the best idea in the current situation

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:00 PM

Techno walks further in and crouches down next to Dream “Bruhhh you don’t look to good…”

Dream breathes back sarcastically “Really? I didn’t notice…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:02 PM

I feel terrible listening to them, this is my fault ...

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:03 PM

Punz finally turns away from you “I swear Dream if you’re about to utter the words in any form that you’re fine…”

Dream chuckles “I’m clearly not fine Punz they cut off by freaking arms!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:04 PM

I watch their exchange feeling out of place. I had no right to be here. I should leave but I wasn´t sure if I´ll be allowed to. Besides I wanted to make sure that Dream´s fine ...

Or well ... as fine as he can get

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:06 PM

Punz turns to you coldly “What the fuck happened here!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:07 PM

"I- I messed up" I said with tears in my eyes as the reality of what I let happened- what I caused came crashing down on me

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:08 PM

Punz grips his sword tighter “So it was you!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:08 PM

I felt like I couldn´t breathe as I slid down the wall not even noticing Punz´s reaction. I caused it. It was my fault- I felt nauseous

I began to tremble and press my palm against my mouth for the first time really realizing what I had done

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:10 PM

Dream spits up blood and responds “Technically it was Q-Quackity’s fault or was it Tommy’s and.. I don’t know I lost track… there were a lot of sharp objects to be fair…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:11 PM

I don´t even hear him as I keep spiraling deeper. I caused it, I caused it, I-

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:12 PM

Techno watches you but turns back to Dream as blood pools from his mouth… Techno hovers his hands over Dream wanting to help but not even sure where to start… Punz comes up beside him a potion in hand

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:12 PM

I hug my knees to my chest tightly, wishing it´d all just go away

A silent voice in my head berates me for the scene I'm making, I should be helping Dream not having a breakdown, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid attention whore. I´m not the victim here so why am I crying?

I should do something - help, let Punz kill me, do it myself- anything would be fine but instead I just sat there unable to move, feeling helpless and exposed, wishing for a smaller cramped space to curl in and pretend that it´s not happening

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:15 PM

Dream starts coughing again, wheezing, sounding like his lungs are filling and Techno gets frantic “Your Honor, we need your help here! Teletubby is dying you can have your angsty panic attack later!”

Dream just watches Punz his eyes stone

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:16 PM

my head snaps up, I feel dizzy but I do my best to crawl over to them and offer the potion I still had

I try to form a coherent sentence but the words get caught up in my throat

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:18 PM

Techno pours the potion on his chest hoping it’ll fix it… but Dream still continues on struggling for air “It’s not working!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:18 PM

I end up only passing the potion before returning to my little ball again, hating myself for being such a wreck

My heart skips a beat in fear upon hearing him No, no, no, no, no I mumble not even realizing that I´m speaking out loud

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:19 PM

“Don’t die on me Teletubby! Not today… Chat will be very upset and I’ll lose so much money… please Dream...”

With you and Techno caught in frantic hysteria yall don't even notice the look Punz and Dream are sharing as if they are in their own little world

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:22 PM

I try to get my body to work again, I can´t be this selfish right? I can´t have a breakdown while someone is dying right next to me. I should have more potions right?

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:23 PM

“Punz, please tell me you have more potions man…” Techno pleads

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:24 PM

I dig around my pockets, certain that there were more potions somewhere, the cloud of panic and emotions I couldn´t be bothered to name at the moment clouding my mind

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:25 PM

Punz pulls one out slowly beside him, Techno doesn’t see it yet as Dream shakes his head looking into Punz begging with his eyes… “p—please Punz…” Dream pleads between gasps quieter than a whisper

Punz’s hand shakes holding the potion as he watches Dream suffocation on his own blood… wanting to step in but the sound of Dream’s words linger in his ears…

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:27 PM

I finally snap out of it at least enough to see Punz hesitating "Punz!"

He can´t, he can´t, he can´t-

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:28 PM

Techno turns to Punz and Punz turns to you… Punz just frowns not saying anything… Techno does though “What? Punz do you have a potion or not, man? He’s dying on us…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:29 PM

"Punz you- you can´t- you need to- he´s gonna die"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:31 PM

Punz with glossy eyes looks away from you back at Dream who’s closed his eyes scrunched up in pain “I know…”

Techno feels for a pulse panicking as Dream’s uneven breathing stops

Techno looks up at you and Punz “Guys I think… he’s”

“Dead…” Punz finishes darkly

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:33 PM

I stop breathing for a moment, simply forgetting how

the world narrows down on the single thought, playing on loop in my head: I killed him

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:34 PM

you all stare at his destroyed body as he slowly dissolves

only the blood remains like a snow angel where his body was

bitterness coating his tongue Punz reasons “It’s what you wanted right?… the death penalty remember?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:37 PM

I don´t hear him, I'm too lost in my head, drowning in the feeling of guilt

other thoughts raise to surface as I eye the shattered remains of a potion bottle, close to where Dream´s body used to lay

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:38 PM

Techno’s hands begin to shake as Chat calls in his head for blood

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:38 PM

It´d be fair if I just-

I reached for one of the larger shards

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:40 PM

Techno grips your hand before you get one “Bruhhh… that’s not what he would want”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:41 PM

I blink blankly at him. Why not? It´d be fair

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:42 PM

Techno stares back tightening his hold on your arm to the point of near bruising as he watches you

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:43 PM

I don´t mind the pain, it merely suits as the substitute to the pain I wanted to inflict on myself

I turn my head a little, looking at him through teary eyes, trying to understand why he won´t just let me do it "Why?" I manage to whisper

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:45 PM

Techno looks at you with what must be maybe pity maybe something else “That’s not justice ya know…”

“The Dream I know wouldn’t want that.”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:46 PM

"But ..." I don´t understand it "I killed him ..."

the tears are now streaming down my face freely

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:47 PM

“Maybe… but its not up to you to decide.”

“You tried to help him… that has to stand for something...”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:47 PM

I just shake my head, my eyes already trailed on the glass again

I tried to help ... but he died anyway. I killed him. It doesn´t matter what I did, I still killed him

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:49 PM

Techno whispers to Chat “a little help here… I don’t know what to do guys…. I’m not good at this ‘people’ stuff…” he turns to Punz in desperation but Punz isn't looking just pacing back and forth stuck in his head

“Dream… He stopped Punz from killin ya, remember? He wouldn't do that if he wanted you harmed or dead…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:50 PM

"... he should´ve let me die"

"I deserve it, I killed him"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:53 PM

Techno shrugs “deserve is a strong word… and trust me I’ve done vengeance… but it—it never solves anything…”

“Dream’d say that’s unproductive and pointless…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:54 PM

I consider his words for a moment, still feeling detached from myself "What if I want to die?" I ask numbly

Finally, I managed to tear my eyes from the glass. Instead my gaze slids to Techno´s hand grabbing my wrist. I didn´t understand it: why try to stop me?

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:56 PM

“I mean…. I wouldn’t recommend that… but like I can't really stop you in the long run… but like can ya at least wait till tomorrow so I can spread out the deaths for Chat… they get very upset”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:57 PM

A little hysterical laugh escaped me "Yeah ... we wouldn´t want that." I replied, my voice edging on bitter

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 8:57 PM

Punz snorts

Techno watches you before slowly releasing your wrist making sure you don’t try anything

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 8:59 PM

I consider reaching for the glass anyway. Imagine dragging it across my forearm leaving angry red lines in it´s wake. I imagine bringing it to my veins, would it hurt more if I cut those?

Eventually I decide against it, letting my hands drop into my lap as I just blankly stare ahead, getting lost in my head again. It was the only other thing I could think of

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:01 PM

Punz finally stops pacing “Does anyone have a flint and steel or some form of fire?”

Techno looks up at him “why planning on blowing some shit up because I’m down?”

“There’s a country just screaming to be blown to bits…” he smirks turning to you “what cha think, sounds fun right?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:03 PM

I don´t hear him, staring ahead blankly, basically dissociating at this point

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:04 PM

“No no no… god, not that… I mean yea it does but… anyways that's not the point. Do you have a fire source or not?” Punz replies exasperated

Techno searchers his inventory “oh yea sure thing dude, I got a… oh wait did you say fire?”

“Well dang all I got are buttons to light TNT but I don’t suppose that works for ya huh…”

Punz turns to you desperately “please tell be you have some burning something…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:08 PM

Blinks slowly trying to process what he wants from me "I ... m-maybe?"

However I make no move to look for a flint or steel, not really realizing that I should

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:10 PM

Punz moves over to you and shakes your shoulders frantically not meaning to be rough but it is a little jostling

Techno speaks up trying to calm Punz “Punz calm down you’re scaring her. Chill out dude.”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:12 PM

my eyes snap to Techno trying to piece together the situation. It shouldn´t be as hard as it was

but I was still feeling floaty and lightheaded, vaguely I realized they wanted something from me but I struggled to remember what.

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:15 PM

“I can’t chill out, Techno!… Dream is… He’s dead! … and I need…. Something to burn with….please”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:16 PM

Burn? ... I could burn myself ... maybe Techno wouldn´t mind that like the glass ... the thought was unexpected but not really unwelcome, I dig through my pockets for a flint and steel.

I find it in a matter of seconds

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:21 PM

Punz looks like he’s going to explode “Well? Did you fucking find anything?”

Techno-“Come on man… Chats innocent ears…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:24 PM

I hold up the flint and steal, crooking my head a little, is that what they want?

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:25 PM

Punz practically rips it out of your hands “Yes! Yes thank you”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:25 PM

I jerk a little at how rough he is, I didn´t expect it and I feel confused. Why did he take it?

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:28 PM

Punz pulls out a book, scribbles on it, dips his fingers into Dream’s blood on the floor and wipes it on the page. He uses the flint and steel to start a fire and drops the book in… it’s dust within seconds and the fire turns green before going out…

Techno doesn’t even process what happened before Dream’s laying on the ground under him again

Dream turns to Punz smiling “Long time no see buddy!”

Punz slides to the ground and wraps Dream in an awkward hug… Dream hugs back (with his newly back arms) “It worked. It worked. Oh god I was worried”

Techno stares shocked “Bruhhhhh… you’re a necromancer too?”

Dream takes a moment to take in his surroundings, Punz still clinging to him… His eyes narrow at you and Techno “Punz…… what the hell did you do?… come one, you were supposed to wait till they left.”

Punz finally lets go with glossy eyes meets Dream’s green ones “I know I just.. I didn’t want you to have to wait long and… I…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:35 PM

I stare at them not able to really process what I'm seeing (also kinda wanting my flint and steel back)

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:35 PM

Punz sniffs hugging Dream again.. Dream just huffs “idiot.”

“Sorry dude..” Punz finally settles on actually pulling away from the hug this time

Techno turns to you “Did you know he had the revive book? Like bruhhh I want one.”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:38 PM

I shake my head slowly, not even sure if I'm answering correctly. I'm not in the mental state to process this right now

A part of me wonders if I lost it completely and am just hallucinating at this point

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:40 PM

Dream moves trying to stand, swaying a bit before steadying himself… Punz just watches not getting involved even though he really wants to….Techno just sits there and tries to process

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:40 PM

I sit next to Tech trying to process as well

it´s not everyday I see someone raise from the dead

"D-Dream?" I breathe out eventually

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:43 PM

“Yes Si——…. Oh you’re still here…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:44 PM

the most intelligible answer I managed was a single nod. I was, indeed, still here

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:45 PM

Dream clears his throat “If it pleases the court, Your Honor, may I…. leave?…. You aren’t going to like call Sam in here…. Right?”

Punz growls going for his sword “She better not”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:46 PM

I finally snap out of my shock a little "N-No! I- I won´t ..."

I didn´t even think about it. I would never ...

Not after ...

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:47 PM

Dream eyes you looking for lies but finds none… he’d be lying if he didn't say he was surprised…. But you tended to surprise him so it made sense

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:50 PM

I stand up, swaying on my feet and almost falling immediately. However I manage to support myself against a wall. It takes a moment for my head to stop spinning but eventually I look at the 3 of them with an unsure look. "I-" I have to clear my throat before continuing "I think you should go, before someone shows up ..."

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:51 PM

Techno looks concerned and ready to catch “and you?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:51 PM

"I-" I looked around the cell, unsure "I think I´ll stay here for a bit longer ..."

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:52 PM

“I mean no offense but we can handle ourselves… well besides Teletubby who looks like a walking corpse. Well I guess he is a walking corpse huh…”

Techno looks at the glass and Dream follows his look frowning….

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:53 PM

I nod, looking at Dream with concern "You should get him out of here"

I don´t notice where the two of them are looking, or at least I pretend not to

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 9:55 PM

Punz looks at the two of them oblivious “Guys lets go!…”

Techno and Dream stay staring at you with concern “Your honor, I believe I would like to sue Tommy over the property of my arm… so ya know I need a judge” Dream smirks pleading with his look

“You have your arm! Dude you can’t sue for that you already got one!…” Techno laughs

Dream snorts under his breath “idiot” then rebuttals “Fine fine how bout for emotional damage… or assault?...you know because he did kinda kill me to be fair…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 9:59 PM

"I ... I'm sorry, the proceedings are over today" I chew on my lip not liking the fact that they´re staying. Why weren´t they going already? "You ... you can- your request can be processed tomorrow?"

I tried not to think about that last part. It wasn´t Tommy who killed him, it was me

he was here now, breathing and alive ... still I couldn´t forgive myself. The glass looked even more welcoming than before and it was scary in a way. I was no longer being hysteric, I shouldn´t have those thoughts anymore

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:01 PM

Punz joins in “Your honor, who do I have to sue to burn Las Nevadas to the ground?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:01 PM

"... try Quackity?"

I offered weakly not really sure at the moment

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:02 PM

Techno and Dream join in at the same time “so to court?”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:02 PM

the law would pretty much blame it all on Dream, I wasn´t even sure if any of these cases would be possible to push through

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:02 PM

Dream offered his hand… Techno pushes him aside and offers his

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:03 PM

"I-I already said ... you need to come tomorrow ..."

I shied away from their hands, why were they doing this? They should just leave me here and go ...

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:04 PM

“Tomorrow… I have to let them live till tomorrow?…” Techno asks outraged

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:05 PM

"I mean ... you can do it without the court?" I offered. It was how most of the things on the server were dealt with anyway ...

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:05 PM

Dream snorts “but what about the laws…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:06 PM

"... you know how they work ... you wouldn´t win at court anyway ..." tears sprinted to my eyes again

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:06 PM

“Eghhh maybe….” Dream responds a calculating look in his eyes

“Bruuhhhh…”

“Chat… really wants someone dead now… and Teletubby would be the easiest but he also just came back so like… Tommy sounds good…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:06 PM

I laughed a little but it wasn´t happy laugh "So suddenly they want more death huh?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:07 PM

“Always.”

Techno sighs… “Chat always wants blood… “ he gestures to the floor “you’d think this would be enough…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:08 PM

Despite knowing better, I couldn´t help snapping back at him "That´s not what you said 10 minutes ago."

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:08 PM

Techno looks at you “Look they didn’t want your blood ok?… they were all crying for Dream and calling me TechnoSoft but I couldn’t deal with them crying for you too….”

Dream turns to you “Wait what?!”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:10 PM

"Why would they cry for me?"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:11 PM

Techno sighs his headache getting worse “They like you…”

Punz off in the corner wonders -Do they like me?

Dream laughs “Well that’s unfortunate if Chat likes you it usually means you’ll be a wanted criminal… that's ironic…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:13 PM

"What?! Why?!" I didn´t understand what I could possibly do to make them like me

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:14 PM

"Well ... I'm letting you go ... that will probably mark me a criminal in many people´s book"

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:14 PM

Techno shrugs “How should I know?… The shits liked Tommy too at one point so ya know their judge of character is questionable…”

Dream-“true”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:16 PM

I nodded. That seemed about right. It was probably just a phase and Chat will grow out of it soon. Hopefully ... I really wasn´t someone they should like

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:16 PM

“Guess that means you gotta come with us for like protection…” Techno adds

Dream finally processing Techno’s words “Hey what the hell is wrong with you?!… Chat likes me too you idiot.”

Punz snorts, Dream glares at him and Techno chuckles

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:18 PM

I snicker at that but I´m still a little hesitant to go with them ... Punz would probably stab me if I went anyway ... which actually might not be the worst outcome ... I probably shouldn´t think like that

still I couldn't imagine why they´d want me to come with them. Surely not to protect me ... but maybe I should go ... I owed it to them no? If they wanted to execute me ... well ...

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:20 PM

“Ya know you do have a point though, Dream… considerin you were like tortured to death a minute ago… whoever Chat likes doesn’t have a good time…”

“See exactly why you have to come with us.” Dream adds

he stares at the remains of the pool of blood on the floor

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:21 PM

I follow his gaze, feeling the shame nag at me again, it never went away to begin with

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:22 PM

“Wait… are you saying this is Chat's fault?” Punz poses curiously Dream glares at him unamused

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:22 PM

I chuckle a little

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:22 PM

Techno shrugs “How should I know?”

“Look Dream is the one who looks like a god, ask him about the millions of children in my head…”

Error-DreamWasFound — Yesterday at 10:24 PM

"Millions of what? ... and they demand blood on a daily basis?" I´m slightly concerned about Chat's mental state now

Bleue_Flora — Yesterday at 10:26 PM

“Well they aren’t all children… even if they act as mature as them… but yea…”

“Also chat would like to say umm ‘F you they are perfectly sane thank you very much’… I wouldn’t believe them”

{The end... aka I fell asleep}

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