A Country Girl Can Survive

"Knuckles," Grey's Anatomy

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Sat, 17 May 2008 02:07:28 GMT

Title: Knuckles
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Pairings: Alex/Rebecca, and strong hints of Alex/Izzie
Rating: Any Age
Summary: He breathes in flowers and antiseptic and then he closes his eyes, letting his clenched fist unfurl and his knuckles brush against the cold hospital floor.
Word Count: 937
Warnings: Spoilers for episode 4.15 "Losing My Mind."
Notes: Takes place a few hours after 4.15 and the last part takes place about a month after that. This is my first piece of Grey's fanfiction so, if anyone has any words of wisdom to bestow please feel free to do so. ;). Un-betaed so any problems are my own.

Knuckles

As he sits on the sofa, in the semi-darkness, he studies the various scars on his knuckles. Fighting is what he does when he can’t deal with things, and when he can’t fight, he argues. He curls his hand into a fist and watches as the skin around his knuckles turns white from the temporary lack of blood flow. When he hears footsteps on the stairs he lets his hand rest but he doesn’t turn around to see who it is, because he’s hoping that person will just ignore him. He’s hoping most of all though that it isn’t Rebecca because he had finally lulled her into sleep an hour ago. He tries not to remember her hysterical sobs, tries not to remember her mumbling about the baby, a baby that never existed in the first place. But he remembers anyways and it makes his throat close up and he has to swallow hard to clear it.

There’s a hand on his bare shoulder then and he knows instantly who it is, because he would know that touch anywhere. It relaxes him but at the same time it makes him tense. He tips his head back to see her face, pale and nervous in the darkness; her blonde hair is mussed by her pillow and, for a moment, he finds breathing difficult again.

“I’m sorry Alex,” she whispers.

“For what?” He knows it comes out as a snap and that he didn’t mean for it to come out like that. Izzie doesn’t flinch or pull away, she just stares at him.

“For everything, I’m just… sorry.”

Alex shrugs and looks away from her. That look in her eyes, that hurt one that tells him that she’s been through more than she ever lets on, makes him want to hold her and to do equally mushy things that normally Alex Karev would never dream of doing.

Izzie takes a deep breath and he expects her to leave but she doesn’t. “I know you told me to mind my own business but I just can’t stand by and watch you get hurt. Alex, Rebecca is sick, she’s mentally ill and you don’t seem to realize it.”

His first instinct is to argue, to snap at her until she leaves in defeat but when he tips his head back to look at her again, he knows she isn’t going to leave. She’s determined and he also knows that she’s going to be stubborn about it.

“What do you expect me to do? Is that the kind of guy you think I am? I am not going to ship her off to her husband just because she’s not pregnant and because she deluded herself into thinking she was,” he finishes as evenly as he can, his fingernails digging into the fabric of the couch.

“Stop saying that.”

He looks at her closely and realizes that he’s made her angry.

“Stop thinking that you’re not a good guy, because you are when you want to be. And for the record I never thought you were scum, not once. Sure, I thought you were an ass on several occasions but I never thought you were scum,” Izzie utters, her lips thin in anger and annoyance.

He doesn’t comment, he just closes his eyes, lets his mind focus on her hand on his shoulder, and on the silence in the room when she isn’t talking.

“Alex, you have to take her for a psych consult.”

He groans, low in his throat, because he’s tired of this conversation and he wishes she would leave so that he could wallow in peace. “Don’t tell me what to do; I can take care of her.”

“I am not telling you what to do, because you already know what the right thing is. And I know you can, I don’t doubt you, but it would be best for her if you took her for a consult,” she said, the hand on his shoulder flexing a little and then moving down over hard muscle and his collar bone. She cups his chin and tilts his head back, meeting his eyes straight on. “You shouldn’t have to take care of her all by yourself, let me help.”

He stares at her. Help. She runs her soft knuckles across his cheek as she tilts her head to the side and somehow he finds himself nodding. “Alright,” he murmurs, his throat feeling oddly tight again.

She smiles a little and his stomach plummets but he ignores it because his stomach has been doing that for what seems like forever.

“You see, that wasn’t so hard, letting me help.”

****

He lets himself slide down the wall, because his mind is blank and he feels empty inside. Brain tumor. Inoperable. Clinical trial. I’m sorry Alex, she’s gone.

Alex barely notices when someone sits down beside him and it’s only the strong smell of flowery shampoo and antiseptic that rouses him enough to turn his head. Izzie’s legs are curled under her and her hair is hanging loose down the back of her scrubs. There are tears in her eyes and she’s looking at him, ignoring the other doctors and patients standing on the sidelines. Alex feels like he’s going to be sick to his stomach.

“Let me in Alex, let me help.”

Before he knows what to think or how to stop her, she’s moving closer and tilting his head down to rest on her shoulder. He breathes in flowers and antiseptic and then he closes his eyes, letting his clenched fist unfurl and his knuckles brush against the cold hospital floor.

character meme

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Thu, 15 May 2008 18:58:18 GMT

Taken from finkpishnets

Are you a book lover? A TV fangirl? A movie aficionado? Put your mind to the test, and list some of your favorite fictional characters - one for each letter of the alphabet.

a. Alex Karev-- Grey's Anatomy
b. Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce-- MASH
c. Christina Yang-- Grey's Anatomy
d. Derek Shepherd-- Grey's Anatomy
e. Edward Lewis-- Pretty Woman
f. Frances "Baby" Houseman-- Dirty Dancing
g. Gilbert Blythe-- Anne of Green Gables
h. Hermione Granger-- Harry Potter
i. Indiana Jones-- Indiana Jones
j. John Bender-- The Breakfast Club
k. Klinger-- MASH
l. Laura Ingalls-- Little House on the Prairie (Yes, I know that she was not fictional but I am holding onto the fact that she did fictionalize her own life a little).
m. Meredith Grey-- Grey's Anatomy
n. Nathan Stark-- Eureka
o. Oliver Wood-- Harry Potter
p. Penny Pingleton-- Hairspray
q. Matthew Quigley-- Quigley Down Under
r. Ron Weasley-- Harry Potter
s. Seaweed Stubbs-- Hairspray
t. Trinity-- The Matrix
u. Eek! I can't think of one!
v. Virginia Lewis-- The 10th Kingdom
w. Wolverine-- X-Men
x. Charles Xavier-- X-Men
y. Nada
z. Zoe Carter-- Eureka

"Choices," George/Hermione

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Tue, 06 May 2008 03:54:10 GMT

Title: Choices
Pairing: George/Hermione
Rating: Adult
Summary: It was hard to face the truth, to accept the decisions she had made; most of them had been reckless decisions, made entirely with her heart and desires, and not her head.
Word Count: 3550
Warnings: Smut, EWE
Notes: This is the fifth part to my George/Hermione series "Finding the Way Back Home." Thank you, with big hugs, to my beta savepureness for being the absolute best :). This part is based on the song "Falling Slowly" by Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova.

Choices

Falling slowly, eyes that know me

And I can't go back

Moods that take me and erase me

And I'm painted black

You have suffered enough

And warred with yourself

It's time that you won

Take this sinking boat and point it home

We've still got time

Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice

You've made it now

It was hard to face the truth, to accept the decisions she had made; most of them had been reckless decisions, made entirely with her heart and desires, and not her head. Thinking about it made her want to cry, but she had cried so much over the last two hours that she didn’t think she had any tears left.

After George had realized that Ron had caught them shagging in the linen closet, he had almost immediately told her to go back to his flat. She had argued, of course, not wanting to leave when such a big issue had occurred, but in the end she had relented. His argument that he couldn’t deal with Ron when she was there had made sense to her then, but now she wished that she hadn’t left. She was alone, depressed, and worried.

Alone like she was, the silence pressed down upon her, smothering her and making it hard to breathe. She wished George was there to at least lay his hand over hers; he wouldn’t have to say anything, just to be there would be enough. But he wasn’t there, and in the back of her mind she wondered if he would even be coming home. Could he not face her? It was a choice that they had both made, there had been no forcing or coercing into bed, and Hermione wanted so much to believe that everyone would be able to get through this. While she thought about George a great deal, mostly she thought about Ron.

Everything they had been through, everything they had conquered together. Was it all over? She wanted with every fiber of her being for their friendship to hold on, and hoped that maybe it would. She loved him so much and she hadn’t realized just how much until there was a chance that he was gone out of her life forever. There was a small part of herself that knew that she could love Ron the way he loved her if the feelings for George hadn’t crept up they way they had. She was in love with George though, and she couldn’t help but wonder what life without him would be like. But what about a life without Ron? Both sounded like the fiery pits of Hell, both made her ache, and both made her sick in her stomach.

While sitting alone, she continually pictured the look on Ron’s face when she had finally noticed that he had even walked in on them. It was gut-wrenching, terrible, and Hermione knew she would never forget it. She would take that look with her and it would haunt her until the day she died. Oh God, how long had he been standing there? How much had he seen?

The tears came again and she buried her face in her hands, weeping for Ron, for George, and finally for herself. She had made such a mess out of everything; had ruined the beautiful things in her life as surely as a flower carelessly stepped on. All ruined, because of her. She thought this over and over again, falling into a despair she had never felt before.

She barely noticed when a hand gently touched her back. A voice said her name, but it sounded strangely distant, and when she lifted her head, it spun around and around and she knew she was going to be sick. Somehow she made it to the loo before she retched. All the while George held her, making sure her hair was out of the line of fire as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl.

Hermione fell back against him when she was done, and he cradled her tenderly as her tears subsided slowly. It made her feel slightly better that he had finally come back, that he hadn’t abandoned her as she so stupidly had feared.

“Have you been at the Burrow all this time?” she asked when she finally found her voice.

“No, I was only there for a short time; I took a walk in London for awhile. I …I’m sorry I left you here, I needed some time to think,” he answered, clutching her tighter involuntarily.

Hermione nodded against him and turned around, looking at his face for the first time. She wasn’t surprised to see the bruise on his jaw and she knew that she wouldn’t have to ask any questions about what had happened with Ron; that bruise was answer enough. But her stomach lurched at the sight of his eyes: they were so sad and ever so beautifully blue, that she felt like crying all over again. She pushed the impulse back though, knowing her system probably couldn’t take much more anguish.

His hand stroked her hair and she settled against his chest, his heart beat sure and steady against her ear.

“No matter what happens, I want you to know that I love you more than anything,” George whispered softly, almost too quiet for her to hear.

Tears burned but she sniffed them away.

“Love you too.”

****

George woke up next morning with his body curled around Hermione’s, spooning into her until their bodies were like one. Love and sadness swamped him and he felt his breath hitch when she made a little moaning noise in her sleep. He kissed her bare shoulder and caressed her hip softly, savoring the feeling of waking up with her. While she had spent the night many times before, they had always woken to the alarm, telling them that it was time for Hermione to go back the Burrow; they had never woken up naturally.

The bed felt warm and comfy with her lying there, and, for a moment he was able to forget Ron as he slowly woke her with his hands. He softly touched her breasts, tracing their curves with his fingertips before circling her nipples. He moved down to her tummy and felt her warm and soft beneath his hands before he moved down to her thighs.

“George …” she murmured before he was rolling her onto her back.

Still half asleep, she stared down at him blurry eyed as he kicked the blankets away and scurried down the bed. George spread her legs and settled down between them, the musky scent of her making him groan and his cock twitch. He kissed the inside of her thighs softly, his early morning beard scraping a little on her sensitive skin. When he spread her folds she gasped and he felt her hand in his hair, clenching and desperately asking for more.

He licked her slowly, teasing her until he heard her soft whine and his name fall from her lips as she pleaded. He obliged and slid two fingers inside her, watching as her back arched and the muscles of her thighs tightened in anticipation. George ran his tongue around her clit for a few moments as he began to move his fingers in and out, the wet popping sounds they made making him moan against her. He began to suckle her urgently, as her breathing became more and more heavy and more wetness coated his fingers.

She came with a cry and her fingers tightened in his hair until he was gasping. When the last flutters of her orgasm had stopped, he pulled his fingers out and he sucked them clean, his eyes closing at her taste. When he opened them again he saw her looking at him hungrily. He moved up her body and kissed her passionately. He heard her moan in his mouth as he shared her taste with her.

“Need you, want you inside me,” she whispered against his lips, pulling away from him to speak.

He nodded and moved back so that he was sitting on the back of his legs. He grasped her hands and pulled her up with him, her skin golden and shining with sweat as they kissed, his hands in her hair. She straddled him, sitting on his thighs as she guided him to her entrance. When he slipped into her, her head fell back as she gasped and he kissed her exposed neck, her skin salty under his tongue.

When he was inside her to the hilt she began to rock back and forth, his hands guiding her movements as he clutched her arse and hips.

“God, you feel good,” he growled as she began to move faster, her breathy cries making his stomach clench and his fingers dig into her skin.

Hermione’s back bowed and her fingernails dug into his shoulders as he dipped his head down to suck on her nipples. When he felt her hand between them, brushing against his coarse red hair and buried in her own wet curls as she stroked herself to completion, he came with a whimper and a grunt as he emptied himself deep inside her. She came a few moments later, her hand working furiously and her lower lip between her teeth. He watched her as she came, blown over by the fact that she was his.

She collapsed against him, her head on his shoulder and her face buried in his neck. George wrapped his arms around her and held her until her breath evened. She kissed his shoulder and neck softly, placing open-mouthed kisses on his skin until she heard him sigh.

“I love you,” she whispered against him, her fingers trailing down his back as goose bumps erupted all over him.

“I love you too,” he responded, mirroring her movements as he trailed fingertips up and down her back.

They were silent for several minutes, content in each others embrace, until reality wiggled its way back into Hermione’s conscience.

“George, should I stay here?” she asked softly, her hands flat against his back, pressing herself as closely as possible to him.

He blew a puff of air on her still heated skin and clutched her hips to him as he moved his legs and lied down flat on his back, bringing her down with him. His cock still nestled within her.

“Always want you with me,” George answered, cupping her left breast softly.

“That’s not what I meant,” she began, threading her fingers with his.

“I know what you meant,” he uttered, watching her face as she bit her lip. “Why wouldn’t I want you with me all the time? I like the idea of coming home to you.”

One single tear fell down her cheek, but she stubbornly brushed it away, hating herself for crying.

“I don’t think I can go back to the Burrow, at least not until Ron has cooled off.”

“I want you with me,” he stated before bringing her down for a kiss.

They kissed and cuddled until the bright sun filtering in through George’s curtains, demanding that they get out of bed.

“Come on, we’re going to go take a shower and then I’m going to cook some breakfast for us,” he said, giving her one more kiss and rolling out of bed, stretching his back and yawning. “You’re wearing me out, you know, and a man needs his strength.”

George watched as she rolled her eyes and sat up before finding her discarded knickers on the lamp shade, balling them up, and then throwing them at him with all of her might. He caught them easily and he laughed; he found his robe and slipped it over his shoulders and tied it at the waist before stuffing the knickers in the pocket and giving her a cheeky grin.

“You start the shower, love, and I’ll start the coffee.”

George walked out the bedroom and into the living room, just as Hermione got out of bed, heading to the shower. He opened the curtains as she went and looked down over Diagon Alley; the place was already bustling with people, and right down below he could see a group of four kids waiting for Weasley Wizard Wheazes to open. Most mornings George counted on Lee to open up the shop and take care of the morning business, and that morning was no different; so, George figured he had at least another hour before he had to go down.

He turned to the kitchen as the shower started and pulled the coffee maker out; he pointed his wand at the black little object and said a few words, and almost immediately the appliance began to make hot coffee, filling the room with the smell of its brewing. Pleased that the coffee would be done by the time the two of them were ready in the shower, he turned to leave. But he was interrupted by a knock on his door.

Apprehension filled him like a wave as he turned around, looking at his front door like it might burst into flames any moment. He knew it was one of his family members without even having to really think about it. He had been hoping to spend another carefree hour with Hermione, but, apparently that was going to be impossible. When he opened the door, he wasn’t surprised to find his father standing on the other side, his hands jammed so far down into his pockets that Arthur’s pale, freckled collar bone was exposed.

“Hey Dad,” George murmured, running a hand through his hair, knowing that it was sticking up in all directions.

Arthur nodded, a small smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I have to leave for work in a half-an-hour, but I came over here first so that we could talk,” he said, his blue eyes never leaving his son.

George nodded too, and stepped out of the way so that his father could enter the flat. Arthur was wearing his Ministry robes, and the formalness of them looked out of place in his flat with the dirty clothes strewn about on the couch and the floor. George breathed in deeply and looked down at himself, now wishing that he had tugged his pajama bottoms on instead of just a bath robe.

“How are you, George?” Arthur asked, turning to his son and placing a warm, wrinkled hand on George’s shoulder.

“I feel like shit,” he answered honestly, not wanting to pretend that everything was okay.

Arthur didn’t flinch at George’s words, instead he nodded in understanding, and the hand on the younger man’s shoulder tightened.

“I wanted to talk to you, George, about yesterday and about Hermione and Ron,” he began, taking a deep breath and hoping that he could do this right. “I know things happen, that some things can’t be stopped no matter how much we try to stop them. Your Grandpa Prewett tried to stop me from marrying your mother, and in the end he couldn’t do anything to prevent it, it was inevitable. I knew from the moment I saw her that Molly was the one for me.”

“Your mother and I didn’t sleep much last night, we thought about you and Hermione and Ron, and we tried to understand how it had all happened and why. We are never going to pass judgment on you or Hermione, for that matter, but we just want to understand.”

George swallowed hard and looked away from his father for a moment, his eyes and throat burning with restrained emotion. He was surprised when he saw Hermione standing in the doorway to his bedroom, her hair wet from the shower, silent tears falling down her face. She had found one of his warmer robes and it fell to her ankles, making her feet look tiny in comparison to the thick fleece of the robe.

“I love her,” he croaked, affection filling him until he felt like he was going to choke on his own tongue.

Arthur’s face softened when he turned and followed George’s gaze to Hermione.

“I’m glad to hear this, son, because in someway it has to be worth it. It’s important to understand what you have done, that your actions are going to change not only yourselves, but everyone else as well.”

“We know that, Dad, and we never meant to hurt him, I never wanted to. I don’t want to lose Ron, I don’t want him to hate me,” George finished softly as he toyed with the long sleeve of his robe. “I knew what I was doing …we knew what we were doing when we started this.”

Arthur nodded, understanding. He watched as Hermione stepped forward, her arm shaking as she hooked it through George’s, as if to cement their bond. She stood and faced Mr. Weasley, her face sad but determined. She had made her decision months ago, and now it was finally the time to face the facts just as they came, they couldn’t be sugar coated any longer. This was it and it was the time to take the plunge. Everyone knew that she and George meant something, but she also wanted them to understand that it wasn’t just sex, that there were feelings there too, feelings she had never had before. It was important to her for everyone to understand this, perhaps not accept it, but at least understand.

“I want you to know, Mr. Weasley, that I love George, and that I wouldn’t risk so much if I didn’t. I always meant to tell Ron, because I knew how he felt and I didn’t want to drag it out. In the end … I didn’t have enough courage to tell him when it counted, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. I’m sorry for all the problems I caused,” she finished, wiping her eyes.

“It takes two, Hermione, nothing is ever just your fault,” Arthur responded gently, watching as George bent his head down slightly to kiss the top of Hermione’s head.

“How do I tell him I’m sorry?” she murmured, her voice thick with tears.

Arthur wondered if an apology was ever going to be good enough for his youngest son, but he didn’t voice his doubts, because there was still a faint glimmer of hope within him that they could make it through this. Ron and Hermione were friends, first of all, and he knew that they had been through a lot together; perhaps it was possible.

“I’m not sure, Hermione, but I am sure there is a way; I would suggest following your heart. I think that if you talk to him honestly, he may come around.”

“But things are never going to be the same though, will they?” she uttered.

“No, probably not; but nothing ever stays the same forever,” Arthur finished, knowing that he had said what he had come to say and that he now had his answers.

His heart sank when he thought of Ron, because he knew that his broken heart was strong and real, the haunted look in his blue eyes speaking for itself. His heart ached for his sons and the woman who was like a second daughter to him. He hoped once more, as fervently as he possibly could, that the three of them could work it out, because he didn’t think he could bare another rift in his family. He left then, leaving them to their own thoughts as he Apparated to the Ministry.

George sighed when his father was gone, and he could feel Hermione still and silent beside him, her side pressed to his. He knew that she tried to put up a strong front, but that inside, her heart could be easily cracked. She was brave, strong, smart, gorgeous, and tender, and he loved her for all of those things and more. He’d first fallen in love with her smile, he decided; it had been the wide grin that had first made him realize that it wasn’t just desire and lust.

He took her shoulders in his hands and turned her to him, wanting to see her face. She wasn’t crying, but she looked exhausted and emotionally drained, and he brought her to him, wrapping his arms around her and wanting to hold her forever. He had never known that he could feel so strongly for someone, that this affection could make him throw caution to the wind and just feel. He had never been the most out-going Weasley brother, Fred had been far more “balls to the wall” than George. When it had come to the joke shop, George came up with the ideas and Fred worked on them tirelessly until they were realized.

Thinking about Fred made him hug her tighter and he kissed her hair, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her shampoo. Suddenly it occurred to George that they were free, everyone knew and they no longer had to worry about being caught. He could take her anywhere now; they could hold hands and kiss in public and be in love like any other couple. He could love her the way he wanted to love her, completely.

Previous Part: here

fics, rl

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Sat, 03 May 2008 21:32:01 GMT

Thank you everyone who voted in the "Finding the Way Back Home" poll, all of the feedback helped immensely :). Part 5 will be posted in two days or so, and I'm looking forward to all of those reviews.

Thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday, all of them made me insanely happy. softly_sweetly wrote me steaming hot slash with dom!dirty!Ron. *dies upon the re-read*. So if anyone is even the least bit interested in slash, I would recommend going to read it here. Ron/Draco/Harry, highlight to see the guh worthiest line. Hmm.... spread the Ron love please.

*The other is bent at an awkward angle behind him, allowing him to stroke at Ron's sides. Ron really threw himself into Auror training, and it shows in the long, powerful muscles that flow under the sweat-slick surface of his pale, freckled skin. It seems like he's using every single muscle to pound into Draco, and if I listen hard enough I can hear wet, slurping sounds undercutting the throaty growls they're both making.

"Such a little slut, loving being watched."*

After eating tons of birthday cake, I am back, full time, on my diet. While I am not a huge fan of drinking liquid shakes for breakfast and lunch (I really am a big fan of chewing), it is entirely necessary.

I bought my mum an iPod nano for mother's day. While it did make a serious dent to my bank account, she's worth it, and besides I am going back to work over the summer so it'll all work out okay. It's pink, 8g, with "This iPod had been approved by the Order of the Phoenix" engraved on the back. Everyone else in the family has one, even my technology stunted dad has one, so it's time she has her own. And Merlin's great hairy arse, is she ever going to be surprised. :).

Another b-day!

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 12:26:06 GMT

Happy birthday softly_sweetly! I hope your day is a great one ;).

book meme

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 22:48:13 GMT

Snagged from ceirdwenfc :)

Grab the nearest book, open to page 123, find the fifth sentence. Then post the next three sentences.

"Have a lift Anne?" he inquired genially.

"Thank you, no," said Anne politely, but with a fine, needle-like disdain in her voice that pierced even Judson Parker's none too sensitive consciousness. His face reddened and he twitched his reins angrily, but the next second prudential considerations checked him.

That was from Anne of Avonlea by L.M. Montgomery, one of my favorite series :).

A conversation with the muse

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 13:54:22 GMT

Please note that the following is nonsense and reading may render you insane. Thank you.

ellie: *puts foot down* The fic is George/Hermione and it will remain George/Hermione so stop putting your big nose in where it doesn't belong.

Muse: It isn't my fault that I take the form of fictional character, Ron Weasley. You created me over the years and now you have to deal with the consequences.

ellie: I will write what I want to write and if I want to write Hermione shagging every single HP-verse man (except for you) than I will, I am in charge here, not you. Now, Hermione is with George and Ron can't change it (even though I might have him try, I really haven't decided yet) and you are just going to have to deal with it.

Muse: I let you dabble in Hermione/Others but this has really gone on too long.

ellie: *scowls* Fine then. *pulls up part 6 file* Hmm... Ron falls down a flight of stairs. No, no Ron is accidently castrated by raving lunatics. *types*

Muse: Hey! You stop that!

ellie: He falls down stairs, is then castrated, and is then painted purple by oompa-loompas. AND THEN he falls out of an airplane. Wait, he is pushed out of an airplane by James Bond. He falls to the ground in a great splat. He is now nothing more than dickless, purple goo with a really bad backache.

Muse: *gasping for breath* Alright! Alright, perhaps we can we can come up with a compromise.

ellie: Like what?

Muse: Hermione can keep George but Ron gets pity sex at the end of part 6 or the begining of part 7.

ellie: No, absolutely not. *keeps typing* Ron is dickless, purple, and goo but he is now being licked up by Padfoot.

Muse: Sirius is dead you nitwit!

ellie: The raving lunatics who castrated you also brought him back to life.

Muse: Did they castrate him?

ellie: no.

Muse: Fine, just stop the torture! What are your terms and conditions?

ellie: You butt out of "finding the way back home" and I write as sexy as you want with someone else, in another fic.

Muse: *eyes widen* I am in your head you idiot, I know what you're thinking. You are not writing me with a man!

ellie: Oh, yes I am.

Muse: Do I get to pick the man?

ellie: Alright

Muse: *Thinks* Do I have my dick back yet?

ellie: You will as soon as we come to an agreement.

Muse: Harry, Draco, Sirius, or Remus.

ellie: Where did the Remus come from?

Muse: How am I supposed to know? It was deep in your mind some where you weirdo.

ellie: *types* Ron is dickless, purple, goo, licked, and is now being humped by horny dog.

Muse: Stop I say! Stop it this instant! *eyes widen as a thought wanders through ellie's head* You are not writing Sirius/Ron/Remus.

ellie: *evil grin* You agree and I'll make you very happy. And I'll delete the goo, the dog, the stairs, and the raving lunatics.

Muse: *frown* Fine, we have an agreement. *shakes hand*

ellie: *shakes hand* *is then taken to mental hospital*

"finding the way back home" poll

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 00:58:48 GMT

View Poll: Part 6 poll

Please ignore the second question!

Okay, I am not turning this into a Ron/Hermione fic (even though I had to fight off the urge on several occasions), I'm just curious as to what people think. So if you have read "Finding the Way Back Home" please vote :). If you'd like to give further info, please comment ;).

Please note: By fight I mean try to sway Hermione from George.

comment meme

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Sat, 26 Apr 2008 17:49:44 GMT

Snagged from softly_sweetly :).

Copy and paste into a comment, filling in your answers as you go.

1 ) Are you currently in a serious relationship?
A.

2) What was your dream growing up?
A.

3) What talent do you wish you had?
A.

4) If I bought you a drink what would it be?
A.

5) Favorite vegetable?
A.

6) What was the last book you read?
A.

7) What zodiac sign are you?
A.

8) Any Tattoos and/or Piercings? Explain where.
A.

9) Worst Habit?
A.

10) If you saw me walking down the street would you offer me a ride?
A.

11) What is your favorite sport?
A.

12) Do you have a Negative or Optimistic attitude?
A.

13) What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?
A.

14) Worst thing to ever happen to you?
A.

15) Tell me one weird fact about you.
A.

16) Do you have any pets?
A.

17) What if i showed up at your house unexpectedly?
A.

18) What was your first impression of me?
A.

19) Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
A.

20) If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be?
A.

21) Would you be my crime partner or my conscience?
A.

22) What color eyes do you have?
A.

23) Ever been arrested?
A.

24) Bottle or can soda?
A.

25) If you won $10,000 today, what would you do with it?
A.

27) What's your favorite place to hang at?
A.

28) Do you believe in ghosts?
A.

29) Favorite thing to do in your spare time?
A.

30) Do you swear a lot?
A.

31) Biggest pet peeve?
A.

32) In one word, how would you describe yourself?
A.

33) Do you believe in/appreciate romance?
A.

35) Do you believe in God?
A.

36) Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you?
A.

driving myself slowly insane

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 15:15:20 GMT

I got up ealy this morning just to post because posting here, whether people comment or not, helps me focus.

1. First of all, writer's block seems to be gone, mostly from the sudden surge of emotion and inspiration, and part five is nearly done. I kept forgetting to reply to her (my mind is all in a jumble), so thank you ceirdwenfc for the writing advice, it really helped a great deal.

2. I turn 19 tomorrow, which is probably the strangest thing ever. To me it seems "bigger" than just turning 18, but I'm not entirely certain why. Like when people ask you if you're over 18 and you have to reply, "I'm 18," well now I get to reply "yes, I am over 18." Am I making any sense? Probably not as I rarely think I ever do.

3. I have begun to listen to sad, love songs a great deal which in the whole matches my mood. A few days ago I was listening to loud, rock/southern rock to let out my frustration and now I'm back into depressing songs again and being a fan of country music there is certainly no short supply of those.

4. I have several fics in the works. I have another Breakfast Club fic on the front burner which has been part way thought out on paper and now I just need to start typing. Part 6 has been mapped out in my head and a possible scene with Ron is on paper. There is a Ron/Hermione fic somewhere in the middle that I will tackle once part 6 is done, and on the back burner there is a Juno fic and a Hairspray fic.

5. Have I mentioned how much I love Juno, it is totaly the ~~bomb~~ boss, and it is the "cheese to my macaroni."

6. There is a second part to this post which is friends only due to RL specific stuff. It can be summed up in one famous phrase: "My love life is DOA." And yes, it is a Friends reference.

Happy b-day, bobbi!

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 14:10:26 GMT

Happy birthday to finkpishnets! So here's to the good old days and bobbism :).

Hate of the muse

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 03:21:36 GMT

*screams and throws live grenades at muse* Somehow I have pissed off my muse. Is it jealous? Is it ill? No, it apparently just hates me and so I hate it in return. The fifth part of "Finding the Way Back Home" had gone through three (yes, three) rewrites and I am just about to start the fourth. The first part (of part five) says just what I want it to say and the second part is alright even though I may have to axe that too and just start from the end of part one. I really want part five to end with Hermione and Ron back at Hogwarts which was always my original intention but I'm not sure how to do that when I also want to fit in a conversation with Arthur/Percy/or Harry with George and Hermione. It's driving me up the wall. I really wanted the thing to be mostly Ron centric and end with confrontation between he and Hermione in the common room after every one has all gone to bed. It was supposed to be set to the song "What Hurts the Most."

I'm thinking about axing the conversation and fitting in a much shorter bit with the rest of the Weasleys. Perhaps a late night conversation with Molly and Arthur as they prepare for bed.... It could then mirror the start of the third part with George and Hermione waking up the next morning (that is the current second part). I could end part three in such a way that it could then lead into a small time jump and they could all be back at Hogwarts. It could work.... But the thing I am trying to avoid is too much tension between Harry and Hermione. I have read a few Hermione/someone other than Ron fics where Harry is a complete arse and I see Harry as more of an innocent by-stander. He will undoubtedly feel more for Ron and know that George and Hermione have acted in a slimy manner but he will not fight for Ron. Ron can take care of himself and in the end manage his own battles. Harry will stay friends with Hermione but the mechanics of their friendship will change, as do all friendships as the people involved fall in love, change, and mature.

I know I have to have this part end with Ron and Hermione, to the structure of the plot it is imperative. But how do I do this without the flow being completely disturbed? The main problem though is the length which, in the end, is the source of all my problems. I have no problem writing looong chapters, I've done it before but I don't want to present savepureness with a 9,000 word chapter. She would cross oceans to come after me with a machete. Not really of course, she's a dear, but you get the idea. I also don't want one chapter way longer than the others.

What to do?

Above is all writing problems and ramblings about "Finding the Way Back Home" as I struggle through a small bout of writer's block.

"Pain," The Breakfast Club

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 23:51:44 GMT

Title: Pain
Fandom: The Breakfast Club
Pairing: Bender/Claire
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1262
Summary: There were two cuts, one across his back, just beneath his shoulder blades, and another on the back of his left thigh.
Warnings: Rated "teen" for language, abuse of a minor, and a mention of sex between two minors.
Notes: My first piece of "Breakfast Club" fanfiction. Thank you to my beta savepureness, as always :).

Pain

There were two cuts, one across his back, just beneath his shoulder blades, and another on the back of his left thigh. They were red, looking quite angry against his pale flesh, and Claire’s hand was shaking as she struggled not to drop the brown bottle of peroxide. He had refused to go to the hospital, though Claire thought he probably ought to, and she wondered again if peroxide and a few bandages would be enough.

She felt very much like crying as she straddled the back of his knees and began to clean the cuts with paper towels soaked in peroxide. In the end, she knew that John Bender was a terrible liar, and she also knew that his tale about a street fight gone wrong was nothing else than bullshit. He had avoided her gaze completely when he had climbed through her window, at two o’clock in the morning, his shirt mostly soaked in blood. It wasn’t unusual for him to climb through her window at odd hours of the night, looking for a place to crash and a bed to sleep in. But never before had he been hurt to the point of collapsing. Claire felt a fresh bubbling of anger at the thought that it had been his father to inflict the wounds she was currently cleaning. She wondered why and how they had occurred, but she knew he’d be angry if she asked.

John hissed, as the peroxide stung, and clutched her sheets in tightly clenched fists.

“Fuck,” he muttered, burying his face into her pillow and groaning as she dabbed and cleaned.

Soon, the paper towels were red with blood, and she knew that she had done all she could with the peroxide.

“I think I need you to stand up,” she murmured, grabbing the roll of bandage and standing up, so that he could struggle out of bed.

Claire caught the impassive look on his face as he got to his knees and crawled off her bed, the cut on his thigh stretching painfully as he stood. He was unabashedly naked (he sort of had to be, in order to have his thigh cleaned) and she felt her face color a little, though it wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before; but before it had been sexual. This weakness, along with nakedness, oddly enough made her want to cry. She pushed back the tears and began to wrap his thigh tightly, using just enough bandage to get the job done, because she still had to do his back. She taped the bandage, then started again.

He lifted his arms a little as she walked around him, leading the roll of bandage around and around, covering the long cut completely. She taped again and stepped back to make sure the bandages wouldn’t move around too much, but would still be flexible enough. He avoided her gaze at all costs and stared down at his toes.

She gathered up the bloody paper towels and his clothes and threw them all in her waste basket.

“What am I supposed to wear when I have to leave in the morning?” he asked, none of his normal cockiness in his voice. In fact, it was rather dead pan.

“We’ll smuggle some of my dad’s stuff.”

He nodded and crawled into her bed, pulling the blanket over himself and turning his face away from her. She sighed and ran her hand down her face. She slipped her soiled nightgown over her head and walked over to her dresser to get another.

She crawled into bed, next to him, and switched off the light, wondering if he was already asleep. His breathing was even and slow, and she thought that he might be. She was glad he was asleep, because it allowed her to think for awhile, to mull over what had happened. She wished he would go to the police, or at least get out of there, because she worried about him when she didn’t see him for a few days. She let the tears fall quietly, not wanting to wake him.

It had been two months since she first met him, and at every turn he surprised her. John was more than anything she had ever expected, and, in the end she had shared with him more than she ever had before. They weren’t romantic, that wasn’t who he was and would probably never be.

That night, having him avoid her and not look at her had hurt more than anything, ever. He was often moody and dark, and he could be a jerk in many circumstances, but she knew his bad boy, bad-ass exterior was just an act. Did he really think that he could pass off the cuts as the results of a fight? That was what hurt the most, that he would even try to lie to her. Didn’t even know her better than that by now?

Suddenly she felt him moving, turning so that he was facing her, and then his arm was around her and he was drawing her close. She took a deep breath and let herself sob openly as he whispered things into her neck, things she could barely hear but she understood perfectly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured over and over again, scooting closer to her body. “It’s fine, doesn’t hurt that much, it’ll be fine.”

Would it ever be fine? She knew they were all fucked up in their own way, but John was a special kind of fucked up. Andy, herself, Allison, and Brian could hide it to a certain extent, because their parents were just assholes; they had never felt the sharp sting of a backhand across the face, the cut of a knife wielded drunkenly, or the burn of a cigarette on bare flesh. Claire was so very scared of what might happen to him, not just the physical pain of abuse, but the emotional part of it, too. Sometimes she saw him happy, when they were together, just being themselves, and she worried that there would come a time where all the happiness would be gone.

Her sobs quieted, but neither of them moved. Seeming to know what she was thinking, he started to talk, stripped of all the layers, until he was just who he was, for real, beneath the pain and the anger.

“I turn eighteen in a month, then I don’t have to deal with this shit anymore. With his help, Brian thinks I might be able to graduate, if I pass my English final. Andy says he’s going to ISU after he graduates, and that he’s planning to rent his own place; he asked me if I wanted to be his roommate. I haven’t said yes yet, but I think I will. I’ll get a job somewhere and I’ll work until everything is behind me, and I don’t have to think about it anymore. Everything will be fine,” he finished, trying to convince himself just as much as her.

Claire nodded against him, surprised at his previously unspoken goals. She never knew that he cared whether he graduated or not, but her heart lifted a little when she heard that he was moving in with Andy. At least he wouldn’t be on the streets, fending off God only knows what.

She felt him kiss her lightly on the shoulder and rest his forehead against her neck, before he finally fell asleep, for real this time. Slowly she did too, lulled by his warmth pressed against her and his arm holding her possessively.

interest meme... continued

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 18:13:35 GMT

These questions are from isis_pro :)

1. Colin Ferguson
Colin plays the sheriff on scifi channel's Eureka
Picture: *whispers* The reason why he's on my list is because he's hott*

2. Reo Speedwagon
One of my most favorite bands from the 80's! They are marvelous. My favorite song is "Keep on Loving You" which can be heard here.

3. Jim Caviezel
One of my favorite "current" actors. He's been in Frequency *points down* and Deja Vu, which are two of my favorite movies. Picture can be found here (this is him playing in Deja Vu where he was a phycopath).

4. frequency
My favorite movie. Well, right now it's my second favorite because right now my favorite movie is "The Breakfast Club". My favorite movies change month by month but in the end frequency is generally always on top. It has everything a movie needs: Action, great acting, a little bit of angst, romance, it's got a few thrills, Garth Brooks music, Elvis music, and a fantastic ending!

5. nanowrimo
*is all warm inside* Nanowrimo stands for National Novel Writing Month! What it is, is in the month of November they have this program where the challenge is to write a novel (or 50,000 words of one) in one month. I took part in 2007 and got to that 50,000 words and I am super excited about November this year. I was going to write the second part of Daughter of War (I wrote about half of the first part last November) but now I'm thinking about turning "Finding the Way Back Home" into an original piece of fiction. Of course I haven't decided yet but the idea is there.

6. Phil Collins
While Elton John is the Piano Man from Britain, Phil Collins is the Drummer man from britain. Phil collins is one of my favorite music artists of all time (active during the 80's and 90's) and a song can be heard here.

7. Eureka
One of my all time favorite shows. It's about this town that the government created for the nation's scientists where they could live and work. With a few thousand scientists one can expect a few disastors every episode which is pretty much the premiss of the show.

Hey you lovely british girls :)

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 21:08:41 GMT

I'm in the middle of betaing a fic and something caught my intention. Is the phrase "bar tender" used to term someone who serves drinks at a pub? Is it pub tender or something else entirely? Thanks, as always ;).

Happy b-day!

ellie_kat89@yahoo.com — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 05:49:23 GMT

Happy birthday to my beta and most of all my good friend : savepureness!

*cheers* I felt it silly to write you fic so I decided not to but you've got big juicy books coming so keep an eye out for them :). *hugs*