Disclaimer:
::Jupiter:: *opens his mouth to say something*
::Erik:: *hurriedly* They don't own it.
::Laurëalas:: Good Erik.
Chapter 18 – Jiana Heero
This was not a good day. You'd assume that if characters from your favorite shows and books showed up that it would be wonderful day, right? Well, you'd be utterly and completely wrong.
When I returned to my room—my haven—I found Trunks, sitting on my bed and reading one of my older diaries. It also happened to be the only one with a lock. A flimsy lock I could open with a little tug when it was locked, but a lock none the less.
I stared in shock for a moment before I started screaming at him.
"WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? YOU'VE COME REPEATEDLY AND UNINVITED INTO MY ROOM, READ MY STORIES, KISSED ME TWICE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION, AND IS THAT ENOUGH FOR YOU? NO! YOU HAVE TO GO AND READ MY DIARY, TOO! WHAT I'VE WRITTEN IN THERE IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, TRUNKS BRIEFS!!!"
At this point Trunks had (wisely) decided to put down my diary. I angrily rounded up every last diary and journal I possessed and strode angrily toward the door. Just before I left, I turned back to glare at him. "When I get back you had better not be in here. You had better keep the heck out of my room from here on." Then I turned and left. I didn't care what the expression on his face might be, especially since I had a sneaking suspicion that he was smirking at me again.
I went down the stairs, the pile of journals in my arms, most of them only half-filled or less. I knew exactly where I was going to put them—up under my parents' bed, tucked between the frame and the mattress so that no one could glance under the bed and see them. What I found when I rounded the corner into the kitchen, however, caused me to drop my journals in surprise.
"Squee!" I launched myself at the nearest of the six confused figures, a man in billowing black robes with greasy black hair, cold black eyes, and a hooked nose. He was completely and utterly shocked to have a teenage girl jump at him and hug him, going immediately stiff and staying that way. My eyes shining, I clung to Severus Snape's stiff form and proceeded to babble incoherently to the astonished wizard.
"You're my favorite character, you know. My absolute favorite. The others are good, too, but you're the best developed and have such a tragic story of your own—you're just the easiest for me to picture myself . . . er . . . bloody heck. Oh, I know how to say it! You just remind me of me a lot. So do Hermione and Harry, but you're . . . er . . . more reclusive. That's it. Bloody heck, I must sound so stupid!" I straightened, releasing Severus, and addressed the group. "Welcome, however the heck you arrived. I really don't care at the moment. The six of you are in another reality, where you are characters in a book series. A bloody good series. Laur, Jupe, and I know quite a bit about you, and there's another reality here where they might possibly know you. Which is why I was so excited to see all of you . . . and made a complete fool of myself telling Severus that he's my favorite character. No, I am not insane—not that I know of. And you five are next, you just fall after Sevvie."
Ron looked like if he'd been drinking something he would have choked and spit it out. "Sevvie?"
I grinned. "Not my idea, I just occasionally use it. Everybody but you two," I said, indicating Ron and Hermione, "have very large fan . . . er . . . harems? It'll work. Anyway, you've got millions of girls mooning over you. It's pathetic. I should know, I used to be one of them." My face twisted into a look of revulsion. "Fortunately, I grew up. There are also general Weasley fans, specific Weasley fans, and I suppose a few Hermione fans . . . girls are more prominent in the fan culture, and so the female characters escape most of the obsessive behavior. What was this about, again? Oh, yeah. Anyway, Padfoot and Moony have some nicknames, too . . . like Paddy and Remmy and Sir* . . . plus there's all those Sirius/serious puns . . . All of you escaped the worst one, though. All these new nicknames come from the fan culture—we write stories about our theories and wishes and ones that are just us messing around, and poor James . . . in most of the Marauder time fics Sir calls him 'Jamsie' or 'Prongsie' or both to annoy him."
Remus and Sirius laughed, exchanging evil looks.
I paled slightly. "There are so many fictitious characters currently in the house which could easily kill someone/do serious damage that we have some rules. Laur is usually the one to say it, but I have no idea where she is. So. No magic in the house, no attacking the other guests, however annoying they may be, and no pulling pranks on anyone but the lavender haired teenage boy. Who, by the way, is very fast and very strong—like he could toss someone across the room without trying and kill them without breaking a sweat. So be careful, even though he's not the murderous one. That's his father, who has been sitting about and glaring most of the day."
"So, basically, no magic, no fighting, and pranks may only be played on a boy with purple hair who's super strong and the son of a murderer?"
"No. No magic in the house, no fighting, and pranks may only and are encouraged to be played on a lavender haired arrogant half alien baka son of an arrogant baka ex-mass murderer alien prince of a dead race and a pretty genius human. His name is Trunks Briefs, and he and his best friend were mischief makers themselves, when they were little."
*Pronounced Seer. Sirius. Got it?
Author's Note:
::Jiana:: MUAHAHAHAHA!!!
::Jupiter:: Trunks is doomed.
::Laurëalas:: I don't know who to be more afraid for--Trunks, Jiana, or the innocent bystanders!
::Jiana:: *sticks out her tounge*
::Erik:: Review. This looks like a sister-fight coming.
::Jupiter:: *under his breath* Gundam, Gundam, Gundam!
::Jupiter:: *opens his mouth to say something*
::Erik:: *hurriedly* They don't own it.
::Laurëalas:: Good Erik.
Chapter 18 – Jiana Heero
This was not a good day. You'd assume that if characters from your favorite shows and books showed up that it would be wonderful day, right? Well, you'd be utterly and completely wrong.
When I returned to my room—my haven—I found Trunks, sitting on my bed and reading one of my older diaries. It also happened to be the only one with a lock. A flimsy lock I could open with a little tug when it was locked, but a lock none the less.
I stared in shock for a moment before I started screaming at him.
"WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? YOU'VE COME REPEATEDLY AND UNINVITED INTO MY ROOM, READ MY STORIES, KISSED ME TWICE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION, AND IS THAT ENOUGH FOR YOU? NO! YOU HAVE TO GO AND READ MY DIARY, TOO! WHAT I'VE WRITTEN IN THERE IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, TRUNKS BRIEFS!!!"
At this point Trunks had (wisely) decided to put down my diary. I angrily rounded up every last diary and journal I possessed and strode angrily toward the door. Just before I left, I turned back to glare at him. "When I get back you had better not be in here. You had better keep the heck out of my room from here on." Then I turned and left. I didn't care what the expression on his face might be, especially since I had a sneaking suspicion that he was smirking at me again.
I went down the stairs, the pile of journals in my arms, most of them only half-filled or less. I knew exactly where I was going to put them—up under my parents' bed, tucked between the frame and the mattress so that no one could glance under the bed and see them. What I found when I rounded the corner into the kitchen, however, caused me to drop my journals in surprise.
"Squee!" I launched myself at the nearest of the six confused figures, a man in billowing black robes with greasy black hair, cold black eyes, and a hooked nose. He was completely and utterly shocked to have a teenage girl jump at him and hug him, going immediately stiff and staying that way. My eyes shining, I clung to Severus Snape's stiff form and proceeded to babble incoherently to the astonished wizard.
"You're my favorite character, you know. My absolute favorite. The others are good, too, but you're the best developed and have such a tragic story of your own—you're just the easiest for me to picture myself . . . er . . . bloody heck. Oh, I know how to say it! You just remind me of me a lot. So do Hermione and Harry, but you're . . . er . . . more reclusive. That's it. Bloody heck, I must sound so stupid!" I straightened, releasing Severus, and addressed the group. "Welcome, however the heck you arrived. I really don't care at the moment. The six of you are in another reality, where you are characters in a book series. A bloody good series. Laur, Jupe, and I know quite a bit about you, and there's another reality here where they might possibly know you. Which is why I was so excited to see all of you . . . and made a complete fool of myself telling Severus that he's my favorite character. No, I am not insane—not that I know of. And you five are next, you just fall after Sevvie."
Ron looked like if he'd been drinking something he would have choked and spit it out. "Sevvie?"
I grinned. "Not my idea, I just occasionally use it. Everybody but you two," I said, indicating Ron and Hermione, "have very large fan . . . er . . . harems? It'll work. Anyway, you've got millions of girls mooning over you. It's pathetic. I should know, I used to be one of them." My face twisted into a look of revulsion. "Fortunately, I grew up. There are also general Weasley fans, specific Weasley fans, and I suppose a few Hermione fans . . . girls are more prominent in the fan culture, and so the female characters escape most of the obsessive behavior. What was this about, again? Oh, yeah. Anyway, Padfoot and Moony have some nicknames, too . . . like Paddy and Remmy and Sir* . . . plus there's all those Sirius/serious puns . . . All of you escaped the worst one, though. All these new nicknames come from the fan culture—we write stories about our theories and wishes and ones that are just us messing around, and poor James . . . in most of the Marauder time fics Sir calls him 'Jamsie' or 'Prongsie' or both to annoy him."
Remus and Sirius laughed, exchanging evil looks.
I paled slightly. "There are so many fictitious characters currently in the house which could easily kill someone/do serious damage that we have some rules. Laur is usually the one to say it, but I have no idea where she is. So. No magic in the house, no attacking the other guests, however annoying they may be, and no pulling pranks on anyone but the lavender haired teenage boy. Who, by the way, is very fast and very strong—like he could toss someone across the room without trying and kill them without breaking a sweat. So be careful, even though he's not the murderous one. That's his father, who has been sitting about and glaring most of the day."
"So, basically, no magic, no fighting, and pranks may only be played on a boy with purple hair who's super strong and the son of a murderer?"
"No. No magic in the house, no fighting, and pranks may only and are encouraged to be played on a lavender haired arrogant half alien baka son of an arrogant baka ex-mass murderer alien prince of a dead race and a pretty genius human. His name is Trunks Briefs, and he and his best friend were mischief makers themselves, when they were little."
*Pronounced Seer. Sirius. Got it?
Author's Note:
::Jiana:: MUAHAHAHAHA!!!
::Jupiter:: Trunks is doomed.
::Laurëalas:: I don't know who to be more afraid for--Trunks, Jiana, or the innocent bystanders!
::Jiana:: *sticks out her tounge*
::Erik:: Review. This looks like a sister-fight coming.
::Jupiter:: *under his breath* Gundam, Gundam, Gundam!