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I don't own Glee or Harry Potter. Or any of the images (unless otherwise stated). I do own Merlin, however. I'm kind of obsessed with him.
If Quinn has magical powers, what house would she be in and if she plays Quidditch, what position would she play?
Hello Anon! This is a very belated response. Quinn would be a Ravenclaw in my opinion although in past head!canon, I've placed her in Slytherin. It depends on her family history - if we go Russel and the idea that he is a pure blood supporter, I think there is a chance Quinn would be placed in Slytherin due to her upbringing etc. however personality wise, I would hope she'd be placed in Ravenclaw - which would probably cause some angst in her family. As for Quidditch - I think she'd be a chaser. However, lately I've thought of her as a goal tender (it's a position I think that's often overlooked, but would be interesting to see...). Thanks for the ask! There are some more asks and prompts in my inbox that are old but I plan to get to them and revive this poor abandoned tumblr.
It has been far too long. I apologize for letting this blog die, but recently I’ve come back and found some inspiration to continue some of the stories and chapters I have here.
SO I AM TRYING TO GET THIS TUMBLR TO RISE AGAIN.
Unsure of how many fabranger fans are still out there, but please know I am now taking ASKS and prompts of Fabranger in order to get the juices flowing again. (I just reread all of the old NANOFABRANGER Prompts and I’m itching for some new inspiration).
BRING THE ASKS AND PROMPTS.
And apologizing for letting this blog slowly die. In 2014, I'm hoping to pick up where I left off - obviously not as frequently as I used to post - but I'm hoping to write on a more regular basis.
I'm in the middle of my last semester, with 5 exams and my thesis coming up in February and June. And I actually have a semblance of a love life so my days are pretty busy, but I'm hoping to do a bit of writing each month and updating some of the fics that have been left dangling.
I'd love to know what fics you'd like to see completed or what you might like to see. I need a little inspiration so any and all submits/asks/reminders are welcome!
Have a wonderful new year! Wherever you are in the world!
Quinn shook her head, eyes sad and unbelieving, “No, she’s not.”
Quinn glanced over at the bed and then back to the now grown woman in front of her. Quinn had promised herself to never grow old, but she couldn't help but wonder what would have happened had she stayed behind that night with the other Lost Kids.
The fact of the matter is, I have quiet a few things completely unfinished and with no direction.
So I'm just dropping off a few excerpts here in the hopes that seeing it on my dashboard will force me to either finish them or at least make me feel guilty enough for abandoning my writing.
In other news, after much debate, it appears as though my Final Thesis Project will be a book.
-----------
She almost didn't see the bookstore, squeezed between a large vintage clothing boutique and an Apple Store. It looked absolutely tiny from outside, but the smell of old printed books was apparent as a group of ladies came out of All Things Printed (what a curious name).
Hermione smiled slightly at the charming bell ringing as she entered the shop, it wasn't often she found muggle shops like these - to her they were a slowly dying breed of bookshop. It was just as small inside as it appeared outside. Books lined the walls and filled boxes that were scattered on the ground.
"Hey, let me know if I can help you find anything," A blonde woman greeted from atop a step ladder, balancing a box of books in one hand.
Hermione's lips quirked into a small smile. "Thank you..." She paused and looked around noticing more and more boxes. "Are you ...closing up shop?" She frowned slightly.
The blonde smiled and shook her head, "Oh, no. Definitely not. Just opened..." she rolled her eyes and used her free hand to gesture at the shop. "Thus the chaotic mess..."
"Oh," Hermione smiled. "Well that's good, there aren't too many bookshops like this in the area."
"Hrm," the blonde smiled, grabbing a book from the box and putting onto the shelf. "That's what I've been told," she chuckled as she stepped down from the ladder.
"Was there something specific you were looking for," the blonde asked after setting the box down.
Hermione couldn't help but find the blonde's smile absolutely breathtaking. "Oh... No. I," for some reason Hermione felt shy. Perhaps it was the way the blonde's eyebrow quirked upwards in amusement. Or perhaps it was the fact that Hermione suddenly realized how pretty the other woman was and suddenly felt as though she were back in Hogwarts competing with Lavender for Ron's affections.
"I get it," the blonde continued to smile.
This time, it was Hermione's eyebrows that quirked, "Get it?"
"You love books, I can tell," the blonde laughed. "You just want to look around, take in the smell of ink on paper. Perhaps find that book you didn't even know you wanted. Am I right?"
"Wow," Hermione felt her cheeks go pink as she smiled, completely in awe by the blonde's assumption.
The blonde pursed her lips thoughtfully, "Either that or I'm totally wrong."
"No, no. You're right," Hermione added quickly, a small smile forming on her lips.
"Phew," the blonde chuckled, feigning relief. "I didn't want to go insult a customer off. You know what they say about assuming..."
"Definitely not insulted. Impressed, actually." Hermione just chuckled, tucking some of her hair behind her ear and turning towards one of the shelves, idly tracing her finger on the bindings.
Had she been paying attention to the blonde rather than the faded binding of books in front of her she would have noticed the small pink tinging the blonde's cheeks.
"Well, if you need anything. Holler," the blonde said softly, tilting her head to the side as she watched Hermione pull a book from the shelf and flip through the pages.
"Oh, I will, thank you," Hermione looked up from the book and smiled.
-----------
Quinn woke with a mild headache, but feeling a thousand times better than she had the previous night. Eyes still closed she snuggled deeper under the covers, her pillow smelled like Hermione and that fact alone made her feel better.
"How're you feeling?" Hermione looked up from her work when she heard, more than saw, Quinn shift on the bed.
Quinn cracked an eye open, her vision blurred before she made out Hermione sitting at the desk near the window, quill in one hand, papers in the other. "A bit," she mumbled groggily before shifting to sit up.
"Don't even think of moving, Quinn," Hermione stated, setting the paper and quill down. She got up and made her way to the bed, grabbing the thermometer from the night stand. "Open up."
Quinn just grumbled before allowing Hermione to stick the thermometer under her tongue. "Wa 'ime if it?" She asked.
"Quarter after 11," Hermione replied, gently moving Quinn's legs to the side so she could sit down on the bed. "Don't worry, I already called the hospital to tell them you're sick."
-----------
"Rough day at the office?" Quinn asked, sliding up behind Hermione to gently massage her shoulders.
If the way Hermione had slammed the front door, dumped her bag in the entryway and flopped onto the couch were any indication, it had been more than a 'rough day' at the office.
"Terrible," Hermione sighed, her muscles melting against the gentle push of Quinn's fingers.
"Tell me about it," Quinn asked softly, leaning over the back of the couch in order to apply more pressure. Hermione let out a small hiss of satisfaction and closed her eyes.
"Can you just tell me about your day?" Hermione pleaded, letting herself sink against the couch and Quinn's ministrations.
"Oh you know," Quinn shrugged her shoulders answering nonchalantly as she continued to rub her girlfriend's shoulders. "Usual day. Saving lives. Being awesome."
[EDIT: Yeah, this just turned into it's own project]
This has nothing to do with Fabranger. Although I suppose it could if people really want to stretch it. I just needed a place to post some shorts my friends have been bugging me about.
Apparently I'm that weird friend that instead of figuring out 'what animal' my friends would be, I focus on 'what kind of serial killer' would they be. This is what happens when I get bored in class. Unbeta'd and completely out there. So yeah.
It's quick. Just thrust upward, a twist and then an apathetic glance as eyes go wide with a brief recognition of the end before the body quietly slumps to the ground.
The splintered piece of wood, colored with a thick red clatters to the ground, joining the rest of the rubbish in the alley. A cigarette is lit, shoulders relaxing back into an apathetic stance as the brief adrenaline rush escapes with a puff of smoke.
Disposing of the body is never a problem. Not hers anyways. It's easiest to just light a match, flick it among the waste and walk away as the smell of burning flesh and garbage fills the small alley way.
If anything, she's done the world a favor, one less idiot populating the earth. And it's not as though the waste department had come to collect the trash in weeks. Two birds, one stone.
---
Some people might thing it strange, but she doesn't think so. After all, everyone has there on quirky collection. Some people collect snow globes, others coins, she eyes.
She's like L. Frank Baum's Mombi, except she doesn't exchange body parts, she just takes them. If only she could exchange them with her own, then she'd be able to coordinate her outfits perfectly.
Until then, she'll be content to browse her collection, protected by glass in a secret compartment at the back of her closet.
---
The first time it happens was an accident, or that's what she tells herself. How was she supposed to know Dr. Cooper made a mistake? It wasn't her fault that the body in the morgue just 'appeared' dead.
She bought Dr. Cooper lunch the next day as a means of thanks.
It only happens when her girlfriend leaves on business and she can't fill her need to control a warm body. She's careful, normally finding a willing yet unsuspecting victim from the sleazier part of town.
It's never done outright. There's something delicious about savoring each cut, each twist of muscle. It's the eyes that get her, the shift from lust to fear to emptiness as Bobby Vinton's voice croons into the otherwise silent warehouse.
---
The urge usually occurs when she's travelling, either on the subway or train. Someone will be speaking flawlessly on the phone in one language only to then strike up a conversation with their friend in another, accent untraceable.
It always appears like an accident. A staged stumble off a bike, forcing the victim out infront of traffic, or a flailing arm swung sideways, sheers in hand.
No one ever faulted her, always comforting the girl as she explained how the poor girl turned the corner right when she was pulling her car out of the driveway. "I never saw her!" The sniffles, red eyes, and tear tracked cheeks were enough to convince anyone.
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