#Hooch Powder

[gothamphantomgoat]

[accursedkaleeshi]

Drugs on Kalee

         There are plenty of poisonous & toxic critters on Kalee all in the midst of trying to gain an evolutionary advantage. Kaleesh are incredibly food motivated & will try to eat anything that moves at least once. They have by now gotten a pretty good handle on what is locally edible. This knowledge is passed down through word of mouth & traditional oral records.

         Kaleesh use drugs for all sorts of things (as, by their own admission, “there ain’t shit to do on Kalee”). Various Hiil clerics have a few poultices, but they don’t have much in the way of traditional medicines comparative to their civilization. (“If I die, I die” mentality.) They mostly use drugs in their ceremonies & rites. A subset of apothecary kaleesh, called venxt, specialize in making poisons for hunting. Poisoning fellow kaleesh is seen as dishonorable. Herbalists arose from the need to make fresh water potable. And, of course, there are “herbalists” & “venxt” that share Kalee’s more fun bounties.

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PLANTS

         While the kaleesh use a fair bit of plant material, there is probably a lot more undiscovered. Since kaleesh don’t like the sweet taste or smell of many flowers they rarely experiment with them on purpose. Most of their plant-based discoveries were made watching other animals rooting around in the foliage & following up to find stuff to pair with their meat dishes.

         Though most kaleesh prefer stimulants that hype them up until they abruptly crash, that is usually a young man’s game. Bark from the swamp dagger tree evolved to strike its predators with the Cozy Sleepytm. It is quite potent. Kaleesh like to burn it & “drink” the smoke. Hard to get though. Less potent but more fun is to hunt the fen nodadiir, a fucked up stilt deer that eat the bark but are able to store the toxin in the fruiting antlers it grows.

         The most common way to chill out on Kalee is to drink. A little bit of bark powder goes a long way in their brews. Kaleeshi drink ranges from citrus-like teas to straight moonshine to alcoholic meat broths. It’s a good way to calm down at the end of a day. Elder warriors often become dependent on the hooch to keep them calm within the community. Hooray, universal language of alcoholism. The long term effects, depending on the drink, are similar to ours.

FUNGI

         Kaleesh have a love/hate relationship with fungi & fungi-adjacent growths. It’s like if plants were meat & they all look like you should eat them! Instead of fruit (they can’t handle much fructose), they make a lot of their booze with fungi & it’s bussin. But just as many kinds of mushrooms will kill a brother. Badly. Most of the bioluminescent ones have proven to be deadly so they have opted not to eat anything that grows & glows as a rule of thumb.

INSECTS

         Kaleesh have observed that some creatures get their toxicity from their diets of offending insects but they have never had the patience to cultivate them to any meaningful extent. Much easier to hunt, catch, & keep the bigger critters that eat them. Even though kaleesh don’t have to worry about most stinging insects due to their scales, it is still a pain in the dicks to try to keep bugs anywhere. Ask any overeager venxt apprentice & the cricket peddlers.

         There is one widely known insect that lives in the Eastern jungles. The gold bead bug is a solitary winged insect that only emerges when the season is just right to find a mate, making it a rarity. Eating one of these bugs is the most potent berserker substance on the planet. The most obvious Kaleeshi thing to do when they find one is to 1: fight for it, 2: head to the arena or middle of town (optional), & 3: have the winner from previous fight eat the bug then fight them again. It’s like giving your biggest friend pcp & then seeing how many of your friends & neighbors it takes to bring them down. For funsies.

OTHER TERRESTRIAL ANIMALS

         Their favorite poisonous dudes are the flower frogs. The buflor & other toad dudes in the same family secrete a mucous of various toxicity. The toads combine acids from their diet with their own potent chemicals & will start oozing this at you from glands on the back of their heads if you bother them too much.

         The domesticated buflor have been mostly bred for household use. They are slow to anger & their mucous is only very mildly hallucinogenic. Venxt breed lines of a highly toxic buflor sister species. The darts do wonders on medium sized prey animals. They had also done pretty well at stopping bitthævrian in their tracks.

         There are several animals (mostly related but with some outliers) that are angry, drug secreting fruitcakes. With the amphibians being so proliferate, however, they are the most accessible. Kaleesh love to lick toads, man. It is a common young adult thing to do with your homies. Go find a toad to lick & trip with RTX shaders on for a while. Some of the toads mess with kaleesh pheromone systems so they be smelling colors for real.

AQUATIC       

         A disproportionate amount of Kalee’s toxins are derived from her seas. The life in the oceans is not in a calm era. They on that weird shit. As the Yamrii found out, most of the larger organism in there are too bony, too pointy, too specific, or too toxic to industrialize. The seafaring kaleesh have been living off the ocean for thousands of years. They know pretty well by now which things they can eat & which things will kill them. They also know which things will almost kill them in fun & exciting ways.

         The “if it glows, don’t eat it” rule only applies on land. The people’s favorite are the miiryu, a branch of shrimp. There are several species of miiryu & the all glow to some extent, usually in polkadot patterns to break up their outlines. The shrimps cook well as you might expect, but if you eat one whole & raw it gives one a burst of restless energy. Its like a 5 Hour Energy with coke(ain) in it. Sailors have been using it to get their work done for centuries. 2 of them would get a guy through the whole rotation & then crash. Their favorite shrimps are native to the bay of Shrupak, so called holy shrimps. They are the perfect size to pop in their mouths.

         The shrimps are easy to dry out & grind into a powder called zid (jyid). Zid can then be distributed anyway. Kaleesh, with special exception, don’t like the idea of snorting anything into their sensitive nasal passages & usually take drugs with food. The zid for, example, is baked into a flat bread for a lessened effect, like a shot or 2 of espresso. For the full effect they will put it on food already cooked or just lick it directly out of the container like fun dip if you’re less classy.

         The urchins & stinging things of the water are usually paralytic. Kaleesh don’t always notice because, again, their scales are pretty sturdy against the small to medium critters. There are some tidal dudes that absolutely suck to step on, of course. With any creature that is big enough to really do damage to them, they would rather not risk it. There’s a fucked up urchin/sea louse thing that causes numbness so it can munch on things undetected. That little shit makes popular medical poultices & gladiators might take a lot of it. Kaleeshi discourse: is taking the no-feels before a fight cheating?

There is a jaw-slinging bottom feeder called a calm-down crawler that kaleesh like to catch & harass each other with. It has 2 barbs on its lower jaw & throws them like a taser. It can’t get through their scales in open air. Sometimes kaleesh will split the jaw like a wishbone & pierce their tongues with the barb. The venom slows their bodily functions way down. This is incredibly stupid & kills a handful of idiots a year.

         Many kaleeshi ceremonies & rites involve imbibing some kind of drug. Ceremonies that pit 2 kaleesh against each other, usually vying for a leadership position, will have the participants crush a dried anemone in their face to inhale the powder inside. It’s a class of drug kaleesh call frenzy that incites berserker mode, which they love. The gold bead bug is the most potent frenzy drug.

         Other ceremonies will use depressants for reflection. Hallucinogens, sometimes in conjunction with paralytics, are used to encourage spiritual visions. Rust wine is an alcoholic marrow broth traditional at weddings. ETC!

[mohini-musing]

Here's a second small offering to the @whumpmasinjuly festivities this year. No guarantees I'll manage another word this month, but here ya go for now. This one's Chasing Ghosts 'verse, stream of consciousness style. Usual warnings apply. Tasha's not the healthiest thing on legs and I'm not much for dancing around the hard stuff.

--

Whumpmas in July - Day 6 - Deprivation

Her vision blurs when she stands. The world tilts on its axis, throat tightening at the urge to vomit. She’s empty and there will be naught but air and pain if she allows her traitorous body to make good on the threat. She won’t. Can’t. He will know. He cannot know.

Barnes watches her stand, sees the tiny hesitation before she takes the first step out of the classroom. He doesn’t believe that anything happens by chance. Finding her? That was not random. She’s the one part of his world before war that he has ever regretted leaving behind. Now he has this second chance. He’s not going to blow it. He watches her go, knowing full well she’s struggling to stay upright. He tamps down to desire to follow her, to remind her that she is worth so much more. He didn’t tell her that when they were children. He doesn’t know if he can make her believe it now.

~~~

The shine of cellophane and foil glints from the counter in the tiny apartment. The tang of vodka overpowers the bitterness of the chocolates, the salt of the chips, the cloying sugar of the pastries that once filled a crinkly plastic package. She sweeps the lot into a trash bin. Closes the lid. Sprays the counter with a mix of bleach and water. Wipes it down with a paper towel and tosses that into the bin atop the evidence of her sins.

Her fingers taste of bleach as they slide into the far reaches of her throat. She doesn’t fight now. Breathes deep. Tightens the muscles of her core, allows the pain, welcomes absolution.

~~~

The frat bro grins at her, his drunken smile repulsive just as she resigns herself to the necessity of pretending he is appealing. Maria is there, someplace in the darkness of the house, probably four solo cups deep into the bathtub hooch of everclear and god only knows what else. Natasha has consumed her fair share of the cloying liquid. The everclear burns her ragged throat, but it does the job she asks of it. She can close her eyes and send her mind far from these little rooms and little men, she can do what she must and take their packets of powders and pills with a smile of her own.

She slips barely there hints of fabric back up her legs, straightens the hem of her skirt, and tosses her hair behind her shoulders. Index fingers swipe beneath her eyes, smudging the liner there back into position and removing the evidence of the tears she doesn’t allow to fall. Walks out of the room with the sated man child on the bed, a cellophane packet of oblivion in her bra for her troubles. Finds Maria. Tells her it’s time to leave.

She sleeps in the arms of a girl she knows likes her much more for her drugs than her personality. They wake in a tangled web of hangover and the void of missing serotonin in the wake of ecstasy from the night before. Party drugs are Maria’s poison of choice. Natasha is happy to indulge. The packet of China White is hidden well in the back of the dresser. Some things aren’t meant to be shared.

~~~

She tells him she’s not using. He knows she’s lying. He knows not to press.

She tells him she’s being safe. He knows that’s another lie. He watches for the moment she’s willing to tell him so. He can be patient.

She tells him she’s tired. He knows she’s not talking about sleep. He wraps arms of flesh and metal around her body, holds her while she shakes. Wipes the tears. Whispers comfort. Love. Forgiveness. He doesn’t mention the packets in the drawer. He doesn’t tell her he knows what’s taped to the sink basin beneath the cabinet.

They can pretend it’s about starvation. They can pretend it’s about the purging. They can pretend it’s about the drugs.

It isn’t. Never has been. Tasha knows deprivation. Has known it all her life. She indulges herself in a dozen different ways to forget what she knows too well.

She craves oblivion.

She craves satiation.

She craves love.

She knows beyond all else that she cannot have any of them for long.

[revcleo]

Tips for people writing about the UK and booze:

we don't care if teenagers are drinking unless you're a cop, a teacher or strict as hell, in my experience many adults will go like "would you like to try some beer/wine/alcopop?" I first drank alcohol when I was 5 (it was a watered down 90s hooch - lemonade alcopop) my brother and sister I feel were offered less alcohol than me when they grew up, which is interesting because I think they drink way more than me

if you look under 25 you still may be carded at many places, this just means teenagers tend to learn which shops will card them and which shops won't. I've never heard of a shop keeper getting arrested for selling alcohol to kids. My dad just used to go to the pub when he was 15. I think some kids still do, especially in the countryside where there's fuckall to do.

teenagers drink either very sweet things or very cheap things

this means either necking a big 2l bottle of £2 cider in the park, WKD or other alcopops, maybe bringing some vimto/own brand vimto (a syrup you're supposed to mix with water to make a drink, it's made out of blackcurrants and we call it squash, it's similar to making koolaid but koolaid is a powder and you don't have to add sugar) to make cider and black (some pubs will also serve you a cider and black if you want, it's a bit of a traditional goth/rocker drink)

we don't tend to called things liquor, we call them spirits (vodka, whisky etc.) liqueur (spirits but with sugar in it), or whatever it is (i.e. cocktails, wine, beer, cider)

cider is always alcoholic - it comes in dry/sweet/flavoured if it's bought from most places it'll be fizzy, the flavoured sort mostly come in bottles like old mout cider and koppaberg (a lot of older people find these too sweet, but they can be popular among young adults or people with a sweet tooth) if you are lucky you will find a stall at a festival or a farm shop where you can get scrumpy or cider straight from a farm, this cider will be stronger and flat, it isn't much stronger but it has a stronger taste.

you can find american cider if you find an american selling it, I have only ever seen this once (camden market)

it's fine to get a mini (small bottle of spirits) and sip it you don't have to have it like a shot, it's a nice way to see whether you like an alcohol, I think if you take them as a shot you will be seen as a bit of an alcoholic trying to get a cheap bit of spirits rather than an average person

When you see shots for sale they look like shots, they are usually for parties for young adults or older adults who like to go clubbing

pubs are where most people go, especially after work, people at work in a chat or out loud if it's a small office might go "Pub?" It's usually the same person. Then people decide whether they want to go or not. I don't know how long people tend to stay maybe a couple of hours at the most.

People tend to have "their local" which is the pub nearby they spend the most time at this can be near their house or near their work. Some work places even have alcohol in the workplace after 5pm (a start up place I was at had a fridge you could grab a beer from after 5).

There is contention to whether it's a good idea, not on a "people getting drunk and harassing people" since most people don't drink to the point they are drunk, more on a general "this can't be good for the country's livers" sorta thing.

People go to the pub to celebrate work things, like someone leaving, there may be a bar tab set by the office, typically people do not drink to the point of intoxication, even if they have like 4 pints it's because they can handle that much and won't embarass themselves infront of other colleagues.

Public transport is common in major cities, but in the countryside or small towns it may be that someone is the driver, they call a cab or that they live close enough to walk to the pub.

Wetherspoons is a pub chain which is considered very cheap and the owner an asshole, if you are writing middle class or up people they might not go to wetherspoons unless they are going with people who said "hey let's go to 'spoons'" and don't feel like saying no or are poor students.

Pubs in some areas will be more basic than others, a rougher pub may consider putting a lime in a beer neck to be a cocktail and refuse to do it.

Bartenders are a thing, but with some pubs the guy behind the bar is called the landlord, this doesn't mean they own the building, they are just the pub landlord it's a different thing. If they're female they're usually called the landlady. It's typically with smaller pubs.

Bars do exist, they are places you go if you want to sit down with a cocktail, maybe stand up with an expensive drink, they look different to pubs (pubs are based on houses which were turned into inns). I think pubs are more third spaces, bars are more places where people go to get/have dates?

Clubs also exist, people go to the club to dance and get pissed, there will usually be a famous club that most people know by reputation, even if you don't go clubbing. like Clapham's Inferno or Birmingham's Snobs. Famous does not mean good, it doesn't mean bad.

Please look up videos on youtube of "Bounce by the ounce" if you want to see some clubbing. Or other videos. I think people are more likely to ask for mixers and shots at a club than pubs

Mixers are a measure (25ml or if you're in a generous place 50ml) and topped up in a 250ml glass with the soft drink. We don't call the mixed drinks but it's still the same, it's just a mixer.

People do things called rounds, though I think milennials tend to be less likely to do this because it's gotten pretty expensive.

Rounds are where one person buys a round of alcohol, it's considered messed up to never buy a round, if you always skip out on the pub by the time it's your time to buy a round then that's shitty you should offer first next time. If you can't because you're broke just tell people. People buy alcohol for each other in the pub etc just to be friendly not always as flirting. People will do several rounds of shots and get absolutely shitfaced though.

Alcohol in the UK is measured in ml or cl (if it's bottles) and it will be in ABV not 'proof' so a 40% ABV whisky is 40% alcohol by volume which would be 80 proof in american. We still have overproof rum though, which is like 53%, we don't have everclear so overproof rum may be the highest you'll find unless you have absinthe (which is totally legal here)

You don't open a tab unless you ask for it. There's only really tabs when there's free bars due to the tab being paid by a company or wedding or something.

Most people do not tip bartenders, if you tip the bartender you are probably marked as an american, bartenders still like money though so like, this won't mark you as bad in their eyes just someone who is likely to give them money so they might be extra nice or something

People do tip bartenders sometimes by saying "and one for you" which is then a drink the bartender can have at the end of the night. They just keep note of it.

Bars and pubs might have fancy alcohols but they tend to be kept together rather than in special shelves, though they may be grouped by type. The cheap sort though will be in a big autopour thing upside down.

You can ask how much alcohol is but they may have a list of all of them at the side of the bar you can look at.

Water + ice is free if it's tap water

Most places have fancy alcohol free beers now

If you're in a city they'll probably have some nice soft drinks and maybe even kombucha as well

Most places have far more beers than ciders, usually very poor on the ciders unless you are in the west country (somerset, devon)

Don't call whisky, scotch

Whisky is scottish whiskey is irish

You can get a cold beer from the fridge if you want but the stuff on tap may be warmer than what an american is used to

"On tap" means they pour it from a pull tap.

I ran out of space above lol, ok more here:

Alcohol is usually in ml in the pub, unless it's a pint of cider or beer, you can also get half pints if you want. If you're at the shop if it's a can it might be a pint (but in ml), a 2l (known as the cheapest alcohol), 250ml premade mixers, or cl (centilitres) such as a 75cl bottle of whisky.

Some peoples' social lives seems to revolve around the pub, this is not considered weird. From what I can tell it's also a key plot point in the long standing soap, Eastenders.

can't think of much else at the moment which isn't to do with general alcohol culture, like how if you drink on a park bench if you are alone that's quite depressing, if you are with friends you are probably a teenager. If you are drinking in an area which has a drinking order it usually just means you can drink but if you are getting antisocial you can be moved on somewhere else, you won't be arrested.

Similarly in some areas they stop serving alcohol even in the shops at 11pm to stop antisocial behaviour. Many other places you can buy alcohol 24/7. Scotland has more problems with alcohol, and teenagers there drink "Buckfast" which is a tonic wine full of caffeine and sugar, it tastes disgusting which is why only teenagers and old men drink it. It was apparently invented by Monks

Alcohol tips for newbie writers (or non drinkers!):

At bars, people who order “chasers” after their shots are ordering something to wash down the taste of their shot with. This can be juice, soda, more alcohol, or even pickle juice

Hard liquor is generally sold in stores as shots (tiny bottles), fifths, liters, and handles or in ml (50, 100, 200 etc)

Most people can’t finish an entire fifth of hard liquor (vodka, etc) on their own without being very ill

Conversely, many people can finish an entire bottle of wine on their own without being ill

Liquor can be “bottom shelf” or “rail” or “well” – all synonyms for the cheapest version of alcohol a bartender has. Bars generally keep several “levels” of alcohol stocked

You order a drink with the alcohol first, then the mix – e.g., a “vodka soda” or a “Tito’s and tonic”

When you “close out a tab”, you pay for all of the drinks you’ve had that night. Either the bartender already has your card (you “opened a tab” earlier) or it was quiet enough that they just kept an eye on you and tallied your bill up at the end

“Doubles” are drinks or shots with double the standard pour of alcohol

In the US, most shots (pours) are 1.5 oz by default. 

Mixed drinks (gin and tonic, vodka lemonade, cosmos, etc) are generally made up of 1-2 shots and a mixer 

If you don’t specify which type of alcohol you’d like in a mixed drink (vodka cranberry, for example) the bartender will put whatever the “house” liquor is – and this depends entirely on the establishment. A dive bar will pour rail by default, whereas a nicer tavern might make all vodka cranberries with Tito’s

PLEASE TIP YOUR BARTENDERS THEY WILL REMEMBER YOU I PROMISE

[stephenandsparklesdokorea]

Seoul | Cooking Class

Our final activity of the day was a Korean cooking class that Josh and Alexis generously booked for us! We took yet another metro ride to the Mangwon station and met our hostess for the night, Jomin, outside the market. She runs a cooking class, cookoreanclass.com, out of her home and was excited to be back up and running after Covid lock down. 

It was already dark out and was pouring rain so it was shaping up to be a perfect night for some shopping, cooking, and eating comforting food. Jomin walked us through the market, purchasing fresh vegetables and cuts of meat we’d be cooking with tonight. She pointed out different types of Banchan at shops offering endless varieties of the same, showed us which dried fish made the best stock for soup we’d be cooking vs where to buy premade broth,  and did a great job accommodating a kosher meal with extra mushrooms or tofu in place of pork for Josh. The fried chicken and rice cake desserts at the market looked increasingly delicious, so it was time to get cooking before I got too ravenous. 

Jomin’s apartment was small but tidy and her large kitchen island had a hot plate for each member of the class, with pre portioned ingredients set out. Before we started actually cooking, we mixed together a marinade for pork we’d use in the last dish. While most of the ingredients you could find at a typical grocery store, the asian pear and a specific chili powder would be harder to find, especially the chili because it was difficult to translate what specific type it was to achieve the desired flavor and heat profile. The first dish we made was Kimchi Jigae, a simple soup with tofu, pork shoulder and kimchi. She taught us how to de-head, gut, then toast the dried anchovies to make the umami rich soup base. Japchae was next, a stir fry of glass noodles with pork and vegetables. SaeRam makes this frequently for celebratory gatherings, and I had tried cooking it once before but it was fun to get a third try at a recipe for it and it turned out great. Finally we put our marinated pork to work in Jeyuk Bokkeum, or spicy stir-fried pork where it mingled with cabbage and onions. I love taking cooking classes abroad, and this one was no exception. It was a great time learning some new skills, the food was delicious, and I love that it came with an easy to read cookbook to recreate recipes from this and her banchan, tofu, and kimchi making classes at home. It was fun seeing how similar or different each of our dishes turned out as we interpreted the same instructions differently, and the Makgeolli we tried with dinner was much better than the cable car hooch in Busan. After saying goodbye we  made the soggy trip back to the subway in the rain and took it back to Myeongdong before calling it a night.

[a-hazbin-spider]

Maybe he’s doing this a bit fast, but he was enjoying it, really. Hopefully Adam could ignore at any point that he used his hands (or tongue) on the plate. It left a look of satisfaction on his face. Angel’s no stranger to hunger, and especially with the smokes, hooch and powder bullshit he gets on- it can get a little easier to ignore. But he forgets how nice it feels to have a warm meal every now and then. It’s been like that even when he was alive. His leg bounces happily, the worries of repercussion gone for now.

“I ain’t knew y’could do that. Tha’ was delicious..! Yer right, I cn say I feel lots better.”

"Fuck my head, how much did I drink last night"??

“Shit, you’s finally up huh? You were poundin em back like a fuckin monster dude. It’s a wonder any a’ that face paint stays on.” Leggy bastard has made himself at home on the table top. At least for talking smack, he’s given the guy a glass of water.

[finiteuniverse13]

Bravo's Banned List

With the help of @bravo-four-seal-team, @@jayhalsteadfan-2417 and @rebelwrites, we made a list.

A list, posted on various walls throughout the Naval base, the plane and the cage room. About 1/3 of it is typed up, the rest is in hastily written pen. Made by Blackburn to try and corral Bravo. It's doing its best.

Tag: @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @bravo-four-seal-team @velvetcardiganbucky @supervalcsi @abby-splace @itsonautopilot @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @mrsmarvelous1995 @jayhalsteadfan-2417

Just so you're all aware, this is a 6.5-page document.

0: On the days of Adam and Swanny’s Death, leave the group be to remember them. I will not protect you.

1: Brock Is Not Allowed Coffee. No exceptions.

1.1: Do not leave Metal alone with Brock when Coffee is around.

2: Dick jokes are not required in briefings

3: If a single one of you bastards get between me and my coffee, we will be having issues

5: You made the dog sad; you die.

8: DO NOT GIVE THEM NERF GUNS

9: WHO THE HELL GAVE THEM WATER GUNS

9.1: STICKS DO NOT GIVE THEM STICKS THEY WILL PRETEND THEY ARE GUNS

10: Dirt bikes (don’t ask)

11: ARCHERY IS A BIG NO

12: FISHING. WHY AM I BANNING FISHING

13: Fire. That is all

14: KNIVES. WHY ARE YOU GIVING THEM KNIVES?

15: LADDERS (NEVER AGAIN)

16: PLASTIC CUTLERY ONLY UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES GIVE THEM METAL CUTLERY

16.1: Scratch that, they stab people with the metal cutlery. Let them suffer the consequences of their actions. They can eat with their hands.

17: MEMES ARE NOT ALLOWED IN THE MEETING ROOM

18: Horse riding. (METAL IT IS NOT A TACTICAL DISMOUNT ITS CALLED FALLING AND GETTING A CONCUSSION)

19: BOY BANDS (not allowed to be played on the plane)

19.1: GIRL BANDS (for the love of god, they will try and imitate them)

19.2 RAP MUSIC (they think they are the next Eminem and will make your ears bleed)

20: Do not tell Jason he is not allowed to do something. He finds a way to do it

20.1: Apparently Ray will do the exact same without question

21: Do not leave any members of the team with upper brass. (How did you make an Admiral with years of combat CRY!)

22: Clay is under Jason’s protection don’t go after him they will not find your body

22.1: If Clay calls Jason dad just leave it ok

22.2: Actually, check on Jason, he’s been standing staring for the past hour now

23: Hairdryers are banned (HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET YOUR BEARD CAUGHT SONNY)

24: Only Trent is allowed to call Metal by his legal first name. Ensign Williams learnt that one the hard way.

25: Paintball is banned from the base the last time it was extreme and got violent

26: The transformers movies because clay tried to do a stunt it ended badly

27: Thumbtacks apparently

28: Any Marvel movie (Jason you’re not Captain America)

28.1: DC movies are out as well

28.2: Disney Princess movies as well (don’t ask)

30: Do not leave phone unlocked around Sonny, he will not hesitate to change everything

36: DO NOT LET THEM GET SO DRUNK THEY START SINGING. IF I HEAR IN THE NAVY ONE MORE TIME, I WON'T BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ACTIONS

37: IF THERE IS SILENCE DROP EVERYTHING AND START HUNTING AND PANICKING

38: Grenade launchers are not required for every mission Trent

39: WHO GAVE METAL A SWORD

42: Yes, Clay does know an Admiral by name. Don't ask questions you don't want answers to.

45: If Clay starts angrily ranting in a foreign language, don't worry. He's thinking out loud, not plotting to destroy the base

45.1: If Clay is calmly talking in a foreign language just back away slowly

48: SpongeBob is a Bad Idea because they are way too Annoying and make References (I’m looking at you, Clay)

52: Sharpies. When I find whoever gave me this sharpie tattoo sleeve, there will be hell to pay

56: DO NOT LET CLAY HAVE A GRIMM REAPER OUTFIT! THIS IS THE THIRD TIME HES NEARLY GIVEN SONNY AND TRENT A HEART ATTACK AT 3 AM

57: Red paint. I went to check something at 3 am and Clay was painting a satanic ritual on the floor

58: 3 am checks are a bad idea. (I have seen things, people!)

62: Explosives are to be locked away when not on mission Sonny and Clay will try and play catch with a live homewrecker

62.1: I expected Metal as a Master Chief to know better - he falls under the same rule as Clay and Sonny.

63: Don't wake Clay when he is sleeping back away slowly and leave the room

64: If I'm sleeping, back away and leave the room. Interrupt me if they've broken a rule, or if the base is actively being bombed. If not, I don't care.

65: Have multiple phone chargers or they will disappear and you’re not getting them back

68: If you call Clay anything other than a nickname expect to get punched or stabbed or sniped in the ass when least expected

68.1: Metal will stab you. Please remember he has a shovel and lye in his truck (WHY DO YOU HAVE IT)

68.2: Don't try to take the shovel and lye off of Metal

69: NEVER say the number 69 around them they are all immature children and expect tongue in cheek comments

70: NEVER interrupt Sonny when he is eating breakfast, he is grumpy in the morning

72: If they are all asleep make no sound - YOU WAKE THEM THEY ARE YOUR PROBLEM NOT MINE

73: For the love of god, stop giving Clay earth mineral nicknames. This is the third time this week I've watched Sonny empty limestone dust from his pack

75: Do not give them hammers! What is wrong with you people?

79: Do Not talk to Trent unless it’s after 2 coffees

83: For the love of god, don't ask Metal if he ever did nude modelling in art school. He will begin stripping, literally anywhere

91: Cerberus is a good boy and you hurt Brock you die

98: Super Glue (never again)

99: MY COFFEE IS OFF LIMITS WHOEVER PUT SALT IN IT WILL PAY

100: Do not give in to their peer pressure while they are drunk, I will not be doing it again

100.1: WHY AM I HEARING IN THE NAVY AGAIN?!

100.2: Sweet Caroline won't work twice

100.3: WHY ARE YOU SINGING BARBIE

100.4: SONNY, CLAY IS NOT A BARBIE GIRL

103: Don't tell Sonny he looks good in pink because you better believe he will keep wearing it (and probably some girl clothes too) to keep getting compliments

114: I ALREADY WROTE SUPER GLUE WHY DO I NEED TO WRITE IT AGAIN

115: HAIR DYE (Why did you dye Metal and Trent’s hair pink?!)

115.1: Face paint (Sonny, their faces did not need to match their hair)

116: Do NOT touch Clay, Charlie team learnt that, and someone ended up nearly losing a finger. (And it wasn’t because of the dog)

117: If they offer you a drink whilst smirking DO NOT take it

118: Sea shanties – if I hear one more SEA SHANTY while we are FLYING

119: If you hear someone shout incoming, run, it’s not an attack, it is Bravo, someone has done something and they’re coming to tell me

120: Vegemite is not allowed in the base after Jason let Clay eat it

121: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (JASON I DONT CARE IF YOU THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY TO ACT LIKE LEO IT WAS A BAD MOVE)

122: Hawaii 5-0, if I hear one more thing about how we should hang people of the rook of buildings I am going to shoot someone

124: Mortal Kombat (Clay was acting like Scorpion for a month)

130: Itching Powder (looking at you Brock)

131: DO NOT TOUCH JASONS TOMATOES - you will get a bamboo cane jammed into your thigh

134: Capes - YOU ARE NOT SUPERMAN CLAY STOP PRETENDING YOU CAN FLY BY JUMPING OFF THE HOOCHES

134.1: Edna Mode said NO CAPES - I EXPECT NO CAPES WORN BY ANYONE ON MY TEAM

138: Laser Tag is fun until someone gets hurt (Sonny and Clay you know what happened)

138.1: Laser Tag! (Ray needed to go to the hospital guys, come on)

143: Basketball. My nose will never be straight again.

144: Bravo and Ice skates don’t mix (the only person good on them is Jason but no other member of Bravo is allowed on the ice again)

144.1: Same goes for rollerblades

145: Ash Spencer is not allowed to be alone with Clay (Jason punched him last time he was on base)

145.1: Do not leave Jason, Metal or Sonny alone with Ash Spenser, it’s going to end up with a murder charge.

146: Clay is Jason’s adopted kid and needs to be supervised when Jason is away

151: SLIME - FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DONT GIVE THEM SLIME

152: GLITTER WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE

153: SCISSORS - Jase cut a chunk of Clay’s hair in the night now the base is a war zone

153.1: DONT FUCK WITH COVERBOY'S HAIR see point 68 for consequences

154: NAIR (why do you even have it?)

156: Call Of Duty (Clay must be supervised when playing it)

157: Do Not leave Clay unattended with Metal (They are both recovering from the ONE CHIP/DEATH CHIP Challenge)

158: Marshmallows (don’t ask)

163: The Hunger Games (are not a good training exercise)

164: The Olympus Has Fallen movies are not allowed to be mentioned in any given time)

173: If you mention the word ice-cream just run, run for your life

176: If I am sleeping STOP THROWING PAPER AT ME

177: Yelling FOR NARNIA is not an appropriate battle cry

178: The Fast And Furious movies (Clay you are not Brian so stop)

182: Nap time is important if their asleep do something else but if you wake them run like hell

190: Any movies about WAR are BANNED (I need a drink to talk about that one)

200 (From Bravo): Blackburn isn't allowed any more paper

200.1 (From Bravo): or pens

200.2: (Blackburn) Handcuffs. They handcuffed me to my desk and wrote that

200.3 (Blackburn): Bravo will not be allowed to tell their Commanding Officer what to do

202: Who keeps giving them superglue? This is the 8th time we are having to unglue Sonny and Clay’s hands

203: Do not let any of them take point on Briefing EVER

205: Are you serious? Paperclips! Do not give them PAPERCLIPS

206: Leaving anyone unattended with fire is a bad idea - I can still smell burning

210: This is Sparta (Jason don't kick people off the roof)

210.1: JASON I SAID NO KICKING PEOPLE YOU DONT LIKE OFF THE ROOF

213: Ash Spenser is not allowed on base. DEVGRU heard about what kind of dad he is, and now its kill-on-sight

213.1: WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT ASH BEING ON BASE

214: Puppy dog eyes because Clay has been using them on anyone to get out of doing paperwork

215: RAY STOP DOING JASONS PAPERWORK

216: GO TO A HOSPITAL IF INJURED, TRENT HAS A LIFE OUTSIDE OF YOU LOT

217: THE GLEE CAST SOUNDTRACK IS NOT TO BE USED ON THE BASE

218: DO NOT PUT LION KING ON - they will cry like babies and there’s no consoling them over Mufasa

220: If I have to explain why BRAVO will not be joining teaching GREEN TEAM please see rule 1 and understand from that then ask the Green Team Instructor. (Brock terrified them by running the O Course in 30 minutes, all because someone gave him coffee)

220.1: And yes, that is the on the 50-minute-record O course. The time hasn’t been counted since it involved performance-enhancing substances

221: WHO THE HELL INTRODUCED THEM TO FROZEN

221.1 NO I DONT WANT TO BUILD A BLOODY SNOWMAN

221.2: WE WERE DEPLOYED TO SERBIA YOU BASTARDS

222: Gray’s anatomy (That is all)

227: VAPES - YOU DONT SMOKE AND ARE NOT PUFF THE MAGIC FUCKING DRAGON (clay I’m looking at you)

228: HATS ARE NOT ALLOWED IN BRIEFINGS (Sonny you know what you did)

229: MAGIC MIKE AND MAGIC MIKE XXL (still haunts my dreams)

233: I am begging you can you please BE NICE TO THE FLEET ADMIRAL (it's the 3rd time he's left in tears)

234: Chocolate - just run ok

235: Please stop re-enacting the screen from titanic when we are on a boat (I’m looking at you Brock)

235: PIZZA NIGHT IS A FREE FOR ALL AND IF YOU DONT WANT A BROKEN NOSE JUST BACK AWAY

236: Jokes. JOKES ARE BANNED - IF I NEED TO EXPLAIN WHY I WON'T BE HAPPY – NO ITS NOT FINE TO JOKE ABOUT THE FACT YOU HAVE BEEN STABBED CLAY

236.1: STAB WOUNDS ARE NOT ADDITIONAL POCKETS

237: Monopoly got violent last time and Jason got punched

237.1: In fact, any board games turn violent even snakes and ladders

237.2: Board games. Just please stop playing board games

240: Why am I revisiting the nerf guns people? IT WAS A FAMILY BARBECUE! (You lot need to learn to let your kids win!)

241: Brock is banned from Cooking - I do not want food poisoning again

244: WE DO NOT NEED A FLASH MOB EVERY TIME DONT STOP MOVING BY SCLUB 7 COMES ON

246: If they pass out around the fire pit for the love of god move them Clay and Sonny tend to like melting the sole of their boots on the flames even when passed out

251: Plastic cups only (this rule is to stop sonny from smashing them)

254: Why am I needing to revisit Sharpies? They aren’t allowed them, give them Crayola's or crayons

254.1: Scrap that YOU CAN’T EAT THE CRAYONS

256: Clay you are not Spiderman get off the walls

257: WHO GAVE COFFEE TO BROCK!!

257.1: THIS IS RULE ONE ON THE LIST WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

258: Don't mention Hawaii five 0 just don't

258.1: They will attempt the intro to it, it’s just painful

259: Don't mention Harry Potter because they will all cry over different characters deaths

287: Soup is now banned (Ray. I honestly thought you were the normal one of the team. I am disappointed)

321: If you see Clay and Sonny cuddling just walk away, pretend you didn’t see anything, one of them had a bad day and the other is the only one they will confine in

322: Don't mention the Philippines or India just don't

330: If Metal and Trent are talking, just leave them be. (No one wants to know if Metal is yelling about something stupid Trent did)

331: Popcorn is not allowed on base it ended up in everyone's gear

342: Non-Aerosol Deodorant. (Two of them tried to eat it before realising it wasn't edible)

344: Aerosol Deodorant. (Metal and Sonny used it with lighters. to create a flamethrower)

344.1: Side note LIGHTERS ARE BAD

345: Headphones. DO NOT ASK

346: Rubber bands are not slingshots

FINAL NOTE: FROM BRAVO - BLACKBURN LOVES US REALLY PLEASE IGNORE THE ABOVE LIST ITS ALL LIES

[gothamphantomgoat]

[100yearoldcomics]

January 29, 1922 The Captain & the Kids by Rudolph Dirks

TOP PANEL: [ID: The Kids run away from der Captain, following with a plank of wood, and Mama, holding an indiscernible blunt object. /end] Captain: Chost vun vallop, you lobsters. Den, maybe I listen to a explanotion! Mama: Ditto, you valrus, ditto!!

MAIN COMIC: [ID: Mama stands at a table, slicing bread. The Kids stand beside her, stifling giggles, as der Captain and der Inspector talk. /end] Mama: Ahem! If you got any bitzness in der basement, Captain, remember, der party iss by eight sharp! Captain: Down der subvay, Inspector, und help me see if der refreshments iss all Jacob for der reception! Inspector: Oh, sure! I'm mit you to a man, Cap!

[ID: The Kids follow the two to their still in the basement. While der Inspector fills a mug with hooch and der Captain readies the bottles, Hans carries a hose and Fritz (among other things) brings a couple boxes of washing powder and yeast. /end] Fritz: Vell, here iss der pop-gun if you got der "pop" mit der "pep," Professor! Hans: Don't vorry about me, boy! Captain: Ha! Extra pale mit bitters in, Inspector. Und chust like der old gray mule vont, I bet!! Inspector: Vell, Cap, der proof of der puddink iss der test, und I'm villing!

[ID: Unseen by the men, Fritz begins churning together a mixture in a large bowl while Hans fills one of der Captain's bottles with gas from a nearby gas lamp. Meanwhile, der Inspector eyes his mug of booze alongside der Captain. /end] Fritz: Und ven you come to der barrel darlink, chust dump in der yeast, vash powder, und seidlitz seltzers, den let nature haff its course! Hans: Vatch nature voik vunders ven der gas iss mixed mit a liddle heat! Captain: Yum-yum, such a header. I vunder it didn't blow oudt der whole dod soused barrel, Inspector!! Inspector: Ahem! If der kick iss as clear as der color, Cap, I'm happy.

[ID: Hans torches the bottles with a blowtorch while der Captain inspects them. /end] Hans: Dey iss getting varm, Fritz, chust vatch dese babies if I ain't wrong on physics!! Captain: Chimly cricks, Inspector, chust off der ice und already like a hot cross bun!! Inspector: Tee-hee, maybe dot's a sure sign der bitters iss bubbling, Cap. You got to experiment mit experience, you know!

[ID: The cork pops out of the bottle and hits der Captain in the eye. The Kids begin laughing uproariously. Der Inspector drops his mug on the floor in surprise. /end] Captain: HI! Inspector: Oh, chimbly!

[ID: All the corks explode off the bottles in a spray of illicit booze. Der Captain holds his eye, but he's just as surprised as der Inspector. The Kids keep laughing on the stairs. /end] Fritz: Dere goes der pop, sport! Captain: Dunner-vetter, look Inspector, it's all a riot! Inspector: Oops! I knew it, too much mustard, you bet!!

[ID: While Hans pours the mixture into the barrel, Fritz aims a cork gun at der Inspector. Meanwhile, der Captain and der Inspector argue. /end] Captain: ...bah! Dod gast der luck. Only vun safed in der bunch, und for five days didn't I vatch dem bottles! Inspector: Chass? Vell, vatch dot vun und vare you iss pointing it. I haff a feeling dot baby don't feel vell eider!! Hans: "Six quarts of yeast und den add der fizzle," right!

[ID: Fritz fires the cork into der Inspector's eye while Hans lays down explosives behind him. /end] Captain: OOPS! Hans: Hayy, pop goes der pea-shooter!

[ID: Der Inspector punches der Captain in the face. Hans stuffs the explosives under the barrel as Fritz runs up the stairs. /end] Inspector: Loafer! Take dot und der knext time, you bet I hand you sumting mit a vallop in! Hans: Take it easy sport, you got anudder KICK coming!

[ID: Der Captain holds his injured nose as der Inspector is startled to notice the barrel, violently foaming over. /end] Captain: OO-IE! Such a temper dot man got! Neffer again vill I inwite him to no party, I von't!! Inspector: ?

[ID: The barrel literally explodes, throwing der Captain and der Inspector up into the air. /end]

[ID: As a sleighing party arrives at their doorstep, der Captain struggles to pull der Inspector rom the snow and the rubble of their home. Mama angrily points out the just-arrived revelers. The Kids snicker to themselves as they walk off. /end] Captain: Quick Mamma, der shofel, der shofel!! Mama: Foolishers! Der party, who's going to recief der guests? Partier: Hmm! It looks like a snowball for a highball!

[mvnvgedmischief]

some headcanons about quidditch

james and sirius care about quidditch too much, peter is a much more casual fan, and remus literally could not be bothered

remus doesn’t know the rules of the game and he doesn’t want to. super afraid of heights. 

sirius and james literally will do annything to improve the chances of gryffindor winning a quidditch match. this has made for some idiotic decisions and also some ingenious pranks 

courtesy of remus, they put itching powder in the slytherin’s quidditch robes. the other team couldn’t figure out the muggle prank, and neither could the staff, so gryffindor won 

also courtesy of remus, they put ipecac in the slytherin team’s water cooler. pomfrey had the same problem with their second muggle prank, because as the gryffindor boys had realized, the staff at hogwarts don’t look for muggle problems. 

james & sirius repeatedly told remus he was the mastermind behind the gryffindor teams successes, which remus found hilarious becuase the pranks they were pulling were low hanging fruit for his muggle cousins

some idiotic decisions: once sirius and james charmed themselves to be lighter (lighter=faster?) and they completely lost control of their brooms because of it

another time they tried to charm the ravenclaw team to be slower on their brooms, but the charm backfired and they spent the entire game in slow motion 

a third time they tried to charm a bludger to follow around lucius malfoy. that totally backfired when lucius flew behind james, and james took a bludger to the chest. 

sirius and james will literally suffer through anything to be able to get on the quidditch pitch

when sirius and james were in the midst of the game, sirius took a bludger to the chest at an unreasonably high height. he fell off his broom, cracked two ribs and his shin, and got back on the broom to finish the game. 

“hurt like a bitch but we won so, worth it”

remus thinks this is particularly stupid & spends a LOT of time worrying about sirius and james because of their careless nature

remus became quidditch commentator by pure bad luck

he got detention with madam hooch for not wanting to practice flying and she made him do it

peter was really disappointed because he really likes quidditch unlike remus 

remus begged mcgonagall and madam hooch to let peter comment as well, because he actually wanted the position 

they agreed because remus was one of mcgonagalls favs

positions stuck and by the end of seventh year he and peter were sassy, sarcastic quidditch commentators 

when gryffindor won the quidditch cup sirius flew over to the commentator’s box and kissed him. that made for an interesting moment. 

[hotpotrandomfics]

Fifth Year AU: A Gift for Him. A Gift for her.

Summary: It’s around Christmas and Hogwarts most powerful couple doesn’t know what to get their partner a gift as it is their first Christmas as a couple. Ah, young love...

Word Count: 4,554

It was late November and the holidays were slowly approaching Hogwarts. Students all over talked about going home and seeing their families. Some were talking about what is it they'd hoped to get for Christmas. Only two students weren't going to spend the holidays with their families; Merula and Jason. The two Slytherins tended to stay at Hogwarts as they never seemed to stop in the search for the Cursed Vaults, but that was true in their first five years. The two had been dating for some time and wanted to spend the holidays together.

"Haywood! Khanna!" shouted Merula as she neared her fellow students. "I need to speak with you two."

The two looked at Merula with raised brows and then to each other. What is it that Merula wanted from the two?

"What is it you need to talk about Merula?" asked Rowan as he fixed his glasses.

"Follow me," she gestured for them to accompany her down the nearest corridor. Merula opened a door into an unoccupied room. "I need to have your word you will speak nothing of what I am about to ask. Not even to Jason."

"What's so bad you wouldn't want to tell Jason?" Penny looked at her friend with concern. "You aren't planning to break up with, are you?!"

"No!" Merula shouted as she looked surprised. "What gave you that idea?!"

"Sorry," Penny held her hands up defensively. "But I am just curious why you pulled us aside."

"If that isn't the case," Rowan stepped in. "What is it you need to know?"

"I w-want," Merula was fidgeting with her fingers in circles. "I want to get Jason a Christmas p-present, and I have no clue what to get him." Her face was flustered at asking them. "If we're dating then I should get him something, right?"

Despite the time they've been together, Jason gave Merula genuine happiness. Of course, she wanted to get him a fantastic gift to show that she cared. But what kind of gift could you give a rich kid who didn't appear to want things, instead he thought more of his friends rather than himself in terms of gifting.

"Merula," Penny placed her hands on her shoulders comfortingly. "I am more than willing to help you find the perfect gift."

"Count me in," Rowan said smiling at her. "We know how much he means to you. Why don't we start with what he'd like or things he enjoys in his free time. Minus the vaults."

The girls looked and Rowan, then back to each other, and nodded at his suggestion. The trio began discussing amongst themselves what to get Jason. Whatever was going to come out of this would be grand Merula thought. Elsewhere though similar plans were in the making by a certain prefect.

"Oye, Ismelda!"

"Aurelius?" Ismelda looked up from her book to see a panting Jason running to her. "Why do you look like death?"

"I was looking all over for you," Jason said as he hunched over trying to catch his breath. "I need your advice on something vital."

Ismelda looked at Jason with a suspicious look. 'What could he possibly want with me' was her thought process. She motioned him to sit down as the whole panting was annoying.

"What is it you need my advice on? Curses? Because I can help with a demonstration," she asked as she adjusted her scarf. "Or is Merula?"

"Yes," he looked a little stunned at her quick assumption. "I need help with finding a gift for her and I don't know what to do!"

"Why should I help you?" Ismelda looked at the flustered boy with curiosity. "Why not ask her yourself? I'm sure she'd be more than willing to say something about what she wants."

"No, I want this to be special. That means she can't know anything about it. Ismelda please, I want this Christmas to be amazing for her and..."

Jason started getting lost in thought for his past Christmases since Jacob's disappearance and his parent's divorce. He didn't know what it was to feel alone like Merula did during the holidays until his family itself fell apart. Jason snapped out of his temporary daze and looked at Ismelda.

"Please, if not for me then for her. You are her best friend. What will I have to do for you to help me?"

"Really? Well," Ismelda cleared her throat, "stop sounding so pathetic and whiny. I don't think groveling suits you, and I want Merula to have a good Christmas too. So I'll help you Aurelius De Leone but you better not make me regret helping you."

"Oh thank Merlin! Thank you Ismelda," Jason let out a breath of relief. "Where should we start?"

"Well, I can tell you some of her favorite authors. But what ideas have you thought of?"

The two people who cared for Merula kept tossing ideas on what to get her. From books to jewelry and other items that were good candidates. Some were bad ones that were out of line. The two had decided to head to Hogsmeade the next day and if possible Diagon Alley. Tomorrow would be an early day for them but a long one too.

"So where should we start Ismelda?" Jason asked as they made their way down High Street glancing between the shop's windows.

"Let's head over to there," Ismelda lead the way to a Gladrags Wizardwear. "Merula keeps complaining her boots are falling apart, and Reparo goes so far." She said as they entered the store. "She's about six. Six and a half."

They walked down to the shoe section and looked through the selections. The two debated on what seemed to be the best choice but nothing felt right to Jason. He and Ismelda couldn't agree mainly because Jason was too indecisive. He wanted to get her the perfect gift. Something to show how much he cared for her. Boots might not cut it for what he thinks.

Around the same time, Merula, Penny, and Rowan were searching through Hogsmeade to find a gift for Jason. Penny suggested they get him a unique wand holder that he could keep under his robes. Rowan thought getting a book series on curse-breaking was a good choice, but that was shot down quickly. The trio made their way to Dervish and Banges to see if they could find anything of the sort that might spark some ideas.

"Merula," Penny called, "look at this." She was holding a holster made of black leather and embroidered with silver markings. "This seems like a good candidate, but this is my opinion."

"Not bad Haywood, but I am a bit hesitant on getting something like that. Jason, he doesn't show much interest in infancy or flashy pieces." Merula looked at the piece intrigued but wanted to keep looking to see what might be the right gift.

"I just thought of something," Rowan said as he looked through the shelves. "Why not talk with him? I mean I can talk with him and see what I can figure out."

"That's not bad, but I don't want to tip him off though," Merula sighed as she looked around the shelves. "He does so much for me but what is it that I can get him?"

"Wait, there was this staff that Jason kept talking off from Asia. Bo staff if I remember," Rowan said. "He keeps talking of traveling to the east when we graduate. Or..."

"Or what?" Penny looked as Rowan lost in thought. "Something else you think he'll like?"

"About a week ago when Jason and I were flying during Madam Hooch's class, Jason lost his necklace. A keepsake from Jacob from when he was eight." Rowan looked at the two girls. "We searched for hours but couldn't find it, and that's the only thing that I can think of."

"We can't find something like that here," Merula thought for a moment. "Wait, what if we got to Diagon Alley? I can talk with Madam Rakepick about using some Floo Powder, but I'd need to find a fireplace connected to the Floo network."

"That's brilliant Merula!" Penny stated. "Why don't we go do that? We have plenty of time today."

With that, the three had made their way back to Hogwarts and started on the quest to find Madam Rakepick. Surprisingly, Madam Rakepick was in her office grading some papers as the three knocked on her door.

"Come in," she called out as the three students entered. "Miss Snyde? Miss Haywood and Mister Khanna? This is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?"

"Madam Rakepick, we need your help with a certain matter," Merula said nervously which was slightly out of character. "We need to acquire some Floo powder to travel to Diagon Alley."

"For what exactly? Do you have to lead to the vaults or is this more personal?" Madam Rakepick placed her quill in its jar. "Depending on your answer I might indulge you with my assistance."

The three looked amongst themselves before they decided it would be best to be clear with their intentions.

"We want to get Jason a gift," Merula said. "They do, but they wanted me to come along to help them with it."

"Miss Snyde, don't take me for a fool." She looked up at her students. "I am quite aware of your relationship with Mister Aurelius De Leone. Rumors can't be hidden in Hogwarts long." Madam Rakepick stood up and walked over to them. "But in the spirit of good faith I will help you, but you will not get caught when we sneak into Dumbledore's office."

"You mean..." the friends said in unison. "You'll help?"

"Of course," she said she smiled at them. "Christmas is coming soon anyhow so let's get to work." Madam Rakepick grabbed a small bag and told the three to follow her until they reached Dumbledore's office. "Dumbledore fireplace is connected to the Floo Network as you have known Merula. So I expect you to lead the way."

"Of course Madam," Merula said, "thank you again for giving us assistance."

"Well I don't mind helping my  "family" Miss Snyde," Madam Rakepick smiled down at her disciple. "Off you go now, I'll be here waiting for you three to return."

With that, the trio snuck into Dumbeldore's office and jumped into the fireplace one by one calling "Diagon Alley" as they appeared there. Now the friends had better options to select from, but they only had limited time before the curfew.

Back at Hogsmeade, Jason was making his way to the Three Broomsticks with Ismelda dragging behind him. The duo had searched throughout Hogsmeade, but Jason still didn't find what he was looking for as a gift. Was it always this hard to find a gift for someone special?

"This is getting exhausting Aurelius. I might start heading back," Ismelda said as she sat down. "You sure you didn't like anything we've seen today? At all?"

"It's not that. It just can't be ordinary, alright? I mean she hasn't had good holidays from what I can guess." Jason ran his hands through his hair. "Her gift. I want it to be special. Something that shows her I care."

"All this love stuff is making me want to vomit," Ismelda sighed. "Look, Aurelius, you have maybe another few hours before curfew and all the stores are going to close before then. So come up with something like you usually do."

A few minutes passed as Jason was lost in thought until a clanking sound hit his table startling him. He looked up seeing Madam Rosmerta placing his butterbeer down.

"Oh, I didn't mean to scare you, Jason," Madam Rosmerta chuckled.

"Madam Rosmerta, may ask you a question?"

"Sure, dear. What's on your mind?"

"Well I'm trying to find a gift for this girl I like, and I've searched through all the shops in town and haven't found anything," he said as he fiddled with his thumbs. "Do you by chance have any suggestions or any ideas what other girls may like?"

"Oh? Since when have you been fancying this girl Jason?"

"For a while now," he scratched the back. "She was a bit of an enemy for a time, but then I just grew to care for her. Despite our rugged history, she brings a certain joy to me, and I can't help feeling like I have these pixies in my stomach around her."

"Sounds like she is a great catch," Madam Rosmerta sat down with the two Slytherins. "You say you haven't found anything that you think she'll like? What does she like or do?"

"Reading. Potions. Quidditch. Challenging me with every chance she gets."

"Have you thought of going to Diagon Alley? I know the curfew for you two is coming quite close and I don't have many customers today. How about this, you help out for the next hour or two, and I'll let you use my fireplace to get to Diagon Alley? There is this one store that I'd suggest that never fails in helping a man find something to appease a woman. What do you say, Jason?"

"I accept," Jason said as he removed his cloak and rolled up his sleeves. "What do you want me to do the first ma'am?"

Ismelda decided to stick around to watch Jason work so that she could laugh at his expense. It was amazing to see what lengths Jason would go for when it came to Merula. "He is a strange one."

An hour or so into Jason helping around with taking orders and cleaning tables Jason followed Madam Rosmerta to her fireplace.

"Do you know how this works or do I need to explain?"

"I know how it works. Thank you so much Madam Rosmerta," Jason said as he took a handful of Floo powder. "Um, would you please cover for me if the school asks where I am at?"

"Well, it's not all that wrong of me to do. You "were" helping me today so," Madam Rosmerta winked at him. "Off you go. Remember it'll still be open but you gotta hurry."

"Right, thanks again. Diagon Alley!"  with that Jason slammed the powder down and disappeared into thin air. He had less than two hours before he had to make it back to the school and had a bit of ground to cover.

Back at Hogwarts, Merula was heading to the Great Hall with Penny and Rowan after their little adventure of finding Jason's gift. Penny went to her house table leaving her friends to make their way to theirs.

"Do you think he'll like it, Khanna?"

"He will. He's not much for objects unless they hold meaning to him. Trust Merula; he'll love it."

"By Merlin, he better," she sat down at her usual spot noticing Ismelda wasn't there. "Huh, that's odd."

"What is?" Rowan asked before took his seat.

"Ismelda isn't here," Merula scanned the table back and forth. "Neither is Jason."

"That's odd indeed," Rowan looked about the table. "He told me he was going to stay in. Maybe he is researching about the vaults?"

"Hey, guys!" Barnaby strolled on over sitting down. "What's up? What's with the long faces?"

"Barnaby, have you seen Jason or Ismelda?" Rowan asked.

"Can't say I have today," Barnaby rubbed his chin. "Hey Liz, did you see them?"

"See who Barnaby?" Liz said as she stood behind him.

"Jason and Ismelda."

"Oh, I think I saw them at Hogsmeade," Liz fixed her glasses. "They seemed like they didn't want to get caught or something. Not sure what they needed to hide from."

"Where were they?" Merula looked at Liz sternly. "What were they doing?"

"Shopping I think?" Liz held hands up defensively. "I'm honestly not quite sure what was going on Snyde."

Merula looked down at her plate and stood up making her way out of the Great Hall.

"Merula, wait!" Liz called out, but Merula was already gone.

Merula had made her way down the corridor that leads to the courtyard. All alone in the snow of the winter fuming as little thoughts roamed her head. Why was Jason with Ismelda? What were they doing? He wouldn't be cheating. Right. "No," she thought. Jason could never do those things, but the possibility is what scared Merula.

"Merula? What are you doing out in the cold?" said a voice causing Merula to look up from her spot by the fountain.

"Ismelda?"

"Last time I checked. Yes," Ismelda sat down next to her. "Sorry I haven't seen you all day. I was handling some business."

"Oh I know you were handling some business," Merula looked at her angrily. "Pray tell what "business" were you handling?"

Ismelda scratched her nose not sure how to respond. "Just some shopping."

"With Jason?"

"I um," Ismelda broke out in a deep sweat. "Yeah, how'd you-?"

"Liz said she saw you two together. What were you doing?!"

"We were," Ismelda looked down at her hands. "I promised him I wouldn't say anything."

"Promised what?!" Merula felt herself getting heated more with anger.

"Merula, calm down," Ismelda raised her hands. "Look, you can ask him when he gets back. Your idiot will explain everything if he doesn't get caught by Filch or Snape."

"Caught? He's not back?" Merula anger slightly came down. "Why?"

"All I will say is that your lucky what lengths this guy will go for you," Ismelda placed a hand on her friend's shoulder with a smile.

Now all of Merula anger seemed to subside but was replaced with another emotion. Worry.

"Finally, I gotta start making my way back now. Oh, Merula is gonna love it," Jason said as he ran down the streets of Diagon Alley. "Hmmm, where did I come from again?" He looked around confused. "How in Merlin did I get to Knockturn Alley?"

"How indeed," said a raspy voice from a dark corner. "What is a Hogwarts boy doing out here?" The man stepped out with a wand drawn. "Oh? A present, for me?"

"Not for you," Jason drew his wand. "Think I'm gonna give it away then think again."

The wannabe thief flew back at Jason's attack and crashed into a bunch of trash cans.

"Oye boy, that ain't very nice now," another man appeared from behind sending  Jason to the ground face first. "All we want to do is see what you  got in the bag."

"Merlin, that hurt," Jason looked over as he clutched the bag close to his chest. "I'm not letting creeps like you take a "look" so," Jason aimed his wand casting Baubillious and sending the second goon flying. He then stood up, following up with Aguamenti as the two thieves stood up themselves but slipped the wet ground. "Have a good evening gents," Jason started making his way out before someone cracked their hand in his face.

"Where are you going boy?" said a third thief. "I am not sure how I feel with you going on about treating my mates there like that." The man pulled his wand and aimed it at Jason's face. "Now, are you going to play nice or am I going to have to!"

Then a large shadow cast itself over the two of them — a fourth man that smelled of rock cakes, butterbeer, and animals.

"Hey there, I'd advise you to leave my friend here alone," said all too familiar voice.

"Hagrid," Jason smiled up at the giant. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping. Same as you," said the Hagrid. "Now then mister, I give you three seconds to leave. One," Hagrid began counting.

"I won't forget this," the thief ran off with his fellow crooks into depths of the night.

"Jason, you know you're not supposed to be here. RIght?" Hagrid helped him from the ground. "They did a number on you. Say, what you have there?"

"A gift," Jason inspected the bag as no damage seem to show. "It's..." he sighed and looked up at Hagrid smiling. "It's for someone special."

"I'd say so; you looked like you got beaten by a giant niffler," Hagrid placed a hand on his shoulder. "Well, it better have been worth it. Let's get you back to the school."

The two men ended up back at the Three Broomsticks with a worried Madam Rosmerta seeing Hagrid helping Jason walk over to a seat. She proceeded to scull Jason for causing her worry, but she was happy he'd returned safely. But back at Hogwarts, another woman was in a nervous panic wondering where a certain prefect was.

"Where is he?" Merula was pacing back and forth in the common room. "He's usually back on time."

"Calm down Merula, Aurelius will be back," Ismelda looked at her friend with deep concern. She knew how much she and Jason became closer. "You'll see he'll pop in here with a grin or something."

"What were you two doing all day?!" Merula was shaking visibly now. "Why are you-" she stopped as she glanced to the entrance from the common room opened. Her eyes widen when she saw who was entering.

"H-hey Meri," Jason stepped in and waved his hand nervously. "How was your-" he was cut off by Merula throwing herself into his torso holding him tightly. "Meri? Are you okay?"

"Where were you?!" she looked up to notice the minor bandages on his cheek. "What happened?!"

"I was," Jason looked down at his girlfriend softly. "I was getting this." He showed her the bag in his hand. "This is what kept me all day and also why I am a little bruised up."

"Why are you bruised up?" Merula stared at him sternly.

"I may have accidentally had gone into Knockturn Alley while I was coming back after looking for your gift." Jason tensed up and started messing with a lock of his hair. "I'm sorry I made you worry."

"You got bruised up just to get me a gift?" Merula expression softened as she took his hand. "You don't have to go that far for me Jason. Alright?"

"But I want to," he smiled at her, "and I'd do it again. I'm a cursed boy, so my luck is little. However..."

"However what?"

"I got all the luck I need in front of me," Jason bet down slightly placing a kiss on her forehead. "Please don't be upset with Ismelda. I asked for help with finding your gift, but I was too stubborn because I wanted it to be-" He stopped speaking as Merula pulled him by his tie and kissed him. "perfect..."

"You have to stop being reckless otherwise I'm going to have to deal with a broken boyfriend," Merula smirked at him. "Am I clear Aurelius De Leone?"

"I will do my best," Jason stroked her cheek gingerly. "So you're not mad at me?"

"Oh I am livid with you but..." Merula gave him a peck to his cheek. "I am glad your okay."

"Meri," Jason smiled, "will my gift clear this if anything at all?"

Merula looked at him with a raised brow and pinched his cheek. "It won't but let see how it after we exchange." She said pulling him to the couch of the common room. "Sit."

Jason followed Merula instructions despite their size difference. He did find her intimidating slightly, but it was one of the things he respected about her, her will. Merula was gone for five minutes and returned with a box in hand, sitting next to him with her signature smirk.

"So then," she started to fidget slightly, "shall we exchange gifts?"

"Yes," Jason handed his gift to Merula while she did the same with her gift. "I hope you like it."

"I hope you like yours," she blushed softly, "but you must open it first."

"No, ladies first."

"Don't go being a gentleman with me. Open yours."

"Meri, I insist."

"You're so stubborn," Merula sighed but smiled at him.

"Yes, I believe I got that from being around a certain witch," he leaned in and kissed her cheek while offering a wink.

"It seems I am a bad influence."

"Define 'bad,' because I don't that."

The two sat in silence for a brief moment until Jason looked at Merula and suggested they open their gifts at the same time. Merula despite herself agreed to his reasonable terms on the count of three.

One.

Two.

Three.

The couple opened each other respective gifts with haste, eager to see what the other brought them.

"Jason," Merula held her hand up to her mouth, "it's beautiful." In her hand, she held a necklace in the shape of a heart with an amethyst gem in the middle of it. Silver bindings secured it with an infinity symbol holding it in place. "I..." she was at a loss for words and was overwhelmed by tears of joy. "Thank you," she cried as she lunged into his chest.

"You're welcome. I take it you like it then?" He smiled as he stroked her shaggy hair. "Hey now, let me look at mine now," he chuckled as she released him. "Now then, what has Meri got for" Jason stopped as he lifted his gift. A necklace with a dragon pendant. The strap was made of black leather, and the pendant of the dragon held a green orb that reflected Jason's eyes. "Meri, I don't know what to say," now it was his turn to break into tears.

"I heard you lost your pendant from your brother and couldn't find it. I know it's not the same, but I-" Merula stopped as Jason pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. "I um..."

"Thank you, I love it," he tried to put it on until Merula took it from him and placed it on him. Jason, in turn, did the same with the necklace he had gotten her.

"Happy Christmas Jason," Merula hugged him. "I love you."

"Happy Christmas Merula," Jason held her close. "I love you too."

With that, the two stared at each other, focused, until they saw a mistletoe hang over them and snowflakes. The couple shifted their gazes to the stairs leading to the dorm rooms were occupied by Ismelda, Liz, Rowan, and Barnaby. The four Slytherins scurried up the stairs to leave the couple. The group of mood-setters was bound to face the couple's wrath later. Jason and Merula laughed at their friend's fleeing attempt.

"So, where were we?" Jason said with a small smirk.

"Where indeed," Merula said turning to face her boyfriend. "Do you have any recollections?" leaning into him.

"I may," he said as he leaned into her and placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

The two held each other close and watched as the fire crackled in flames. Merula was giving Jason an earful for all his bruises, but Jason responded with an assault of kisses that he did to get out of any of her lectures. She protests but when Jason acted in his loving ways it had a certain charm on her she couldn't explain. The holidays were never dull when they were together, and that was something. Though the castle was empty for the most part, it was filled with laughter and joy through its halls.

[strigwrites]

Conviction

(Art source)

The whipping winds raced across the battered snowscape, all hounds of winter searching out the smallest crooks and crevices and promptly muffling the jagged mouths with a spray of white powder. The highlands hadn’t known warmth in half a decade, but its stalwart denizens remained unfazed, found ways to move with the breakneck turn of climate. A throng of wooly folk gathered close around a sputtering fire and thawed their ice-caked gloves until they could be summarily peeled from hands beaten ruddy even well-hidden in shearling. A clever hand exchanged a flask around, red cheeks peeking up from cloak wraps and tipping back to warm their insides on hooch brewed strong enough to resist freezing on all but the most blisteringly cold nights.

“Thought we’d never get back when the clouds started rolling up...but I have to admit, fellas, death weren’t lookin’ so bad when I knew I had seven hells to warm up in on the other side!”

Laughter pierced the suppressive cloak of an impending blizzard from where they nestled at the foot of a steep and rocky valley, hardened people who eased the frigid wastes with laughter and back-slapping that nearly sent the smallest of the throng sprawling face-first onto the ground. They stomped their boots and whistled at the weather, cleared space to start a fire, and in no time at all turned an inhospitable pile of stone into a passable place to wait for the worst of it to blow over.

“I tell you, Ragnheidur is out there yet, and I intend to claim her head to match the tail mounted on my cabin wall!”

“For the sake of the newcomer, why don’t you tell him how many times you’ve changed that story since I heard you tell it first, what, ten? Fifteen years ago?”

“Everyone knows the tail you’ve got mounted belongs to some lesser lizard, old man!”

The resident storyteller waves them all off with a sweep of his hand and focuses every ounce of aged charisma toward the most fresh-faced of the grizzled lot, daring the younger man to look away from his intense, over-earnest expression. “Don’t listen to these sour pricks, son, they just don’t know what to make of old men who ain’t yet hung up their big ambitions. This lot thinks that when they get to be my age, they’ll be content to fade away in some rocking chair until Death comes to collect. A load of shite, you hear me? That big bitch has a target painted on her ugly head and I’m keen on collecting.” He punctuated his proclamation with a spirited thump of his padded chest, eliciting a round of guffaws from his audience.

“You don’t have to comfort him, Pietor. He’s quite clearly lost his marbles half an age ago and anything left froze out here! Don’t let him drag you under with him.”

The young man now identified as Pietor offered a gamely smile, visibly more reserved than his raucous comrades, but before he could get a word in edgewise, the storyteller heaved a great arm about his shoulders and dragged him to his side. “They’ve been trying to paint me as a mad old fool, but you take a look around you, boy,” and the young man did indeed do that, “And you tell me if you think anyone who comes to the godsdamned Convictory hasn’t had their gourd knocked around a few times before!”

The camp erupted in spirited shouting that never quite ceased even as the last tender flames of daylight receded swiftly into a deep and brumal night with precious little in-between. Their clever hideaway was spared the worst of the drifting snow, but even the heartiest of them eventually retreated one by one into their respective tents when the booze could no longer prop them up against the climate and settled down for the evening, leaving only Pietor perched next to the fire as the first watchman of the night.

An iron ring haloed his boyish face, the kind that looks half his true age at all times even from a mile away, and he was not inclined to correct anyone on the matter. His notice turned upward, well past the broken teeth of stony peaks to where the stars winked blithely as tempestuous clouds began to break apart and yield to clear, crisp winter skies. The tilt of his chin revealed a stretch of tender neck to the brisk breeze, but for the moment he seemed perfectly content to be wrapped in the veil of night under foreign skies, a stranger until before long, he would not be.

May my bolts be as gifts to these wicked hearts.

When his eyes slid shut, was it home he was dreaming of? Not simply a place of residence or an origin point, but of another life and another him all together. In the margins of this newer, humbler existence, he could still feel the haunt of who he’d been reminding him that there was a time when he’d been ferocious, a panther who could still smell the blood of a fresh kill from inside his concrete cage. The phantom of old claws extended and retracted.

Sever the spirit that pilots his innocent flesh and deliver it unto our Lady of Fury, and may her righteous fire cleanse it whole.

A low chunk was lost to the dying gasps of the passing storm. He couldn’t have been surprised.

--

“W-whoa—hey...Hey! Wake up! Wake up!”

“What the hell’s the matter, Haften?”

“Something’s not—This isn’t right! This isn’t right, something’s happened to Pietor...”

“What? Godsdamnit, where are my...”

“Pietor? Shit.”

“Hang on, dammit, I’m coming...”

“Oh, hell. The boy’s dead.”

Fine snow dotted the young man’s eyelashes, an empty gaze now permanently fixed skyward. One hand had fallen limp at his throat, where the wooden shaft of a crossbow bolt thrusted proudly outward from its lethal mark. All eyes shot to the canyon walls, but the clarity now granted by fairer skies gave no indication of threat in their midst. Baffled hunters rummaged through pockets and travel packs, but whoever Pietor had been before joining a band that never asked too much, clearly that man did not want to be found. Not a letter or a token of sentiment to give answers to such a swift and absolute act.

By morning, a solemn line trudged slowly away from camp and its new, lone occupant, barely a wink of sleep between them.

“You think he might have been an Imperial or summat?”

“If he was, then he’ll be some beast’s meal and then some beast’s shite soon enough.”

“Never liked him much anyway.”

[songbirdstew]

In case it’s been unclear, I am a janitor. I’m employed by a local franchise of an international professional cleaning service. I personally clean the flagship building of a regional financial institution, 5 nights a week. I’ve been doing this for about 2 years. 

We’re trained to kind of clean without seeing, by which I mean, we’re trained to wipe down surfaces we can access, but we don’t lift or move photos, tchotchkes, plants, paperwork, equipment, etc. We’re trained to not examine the contents of wastebaskets or recycling bins; it’s not our job to sort or second guess or make judgment calls on whether or not, say, this intact box full of smaller intact boxes and packing peanuts is meant to be recycled or not. If it’s not broken down and placed in the appropriate bin, we leave it where you leave it. If there are pens, badges, potentially sensitive paperwork, unopened reams of specially printed stationery, non-disposable dishware*, what have you, in a trash can, we leave it where you leave it. The bin liner and all of its contents go straight to the dumpster for the city trash collectors to haul away.

So, tonight, when I spotted a five dollar bill (FIVE. DOLLARS.) in a teller’s trash bin, I literally said out loud, “I hope this isn’t some kind of test, because you just lost five bucks.” Bin liner, and all of its contents, including the five dollar bill, some paper clips, and a half-empty Dutch Bros cup which I had to go empty all the way it’s a whole THING, went into my commercial wheely bin. And I went about my business, cleaning up after grown ass adults who smash powdered donuts into the fucking carpet. Ahem.

After work, I swung by Winco to pick up Emergency Back Up Wine after @goddesscurls kindly sent me a Hooch Inventory Text. I’m still getting used to how SMALL Barbara (the Prius) is, compared to the Buick, so after I parked and was walking away from the car, I glanced back to make sure I was Appropriate (I was!), and in doing so, I realized, (”Wait, what?”), there was a TWENTY. DOLLAR. BILL. TUH WHEN TEE DOLL ARS ZUH. Lying next to my rear wheel. No cars on either side of Barbara. I picked up the twenty and then craned my neck around, trying to see if anyone nearby was frantically searching for something, and I kept my eyes peeled while I was in the store, especially at checkout, in case I saw or heard anyone go, OH SHIT. No one. Nada. Nothing out of the ordinary. So I left with my wine, going, “.... I guess this is my twenty dollars (TWENTY. DOLLARS. !!!) now??? o_O What the fuck is happening? What is actually happening right now??”

@goddesscurls said, “The Universe decided you deserved free wine tonight, as compensation for everything that’s been going on.” And in telling this story to Curtis, I was like, “This is BANANAS. It’s just ABSOLUTE BANANAS.” And he replied, “This is the kind of bananas we could use more of.”

[mamapriest]

Behind The Scenes Secrets: The Wizard Of Oz

by Unfiltered Hooch PART I

The 1939 film The Wizard of Oz is one of the most iconic films of all time. It launched Judy Garland into the throes of major movie stardom. Though the film made Garland’s career, it also ruined her life. The Wizard of Oz was a gorgeous, Technicolor film, but there was undeniable darkness on set. From crippling addiction and devastating assault, to injury and ever near-death experiences, behind the scenes of Oz will change your perspective on the classic film.

“OVER THE RAINBOW” WAS ALMOST CUT FROM THE FILM

“Over the Rainbow” is one of the most well-known songs of all time, but it almost didn’t exist as we know it. The Wizard of Oz had an insanely long run-time. It was two hours long, and producers had to cut it down by at least 20 minutes for it to be a reasonable length.

"Over the Rainbow" was originally cut because producers thought the black and white scenes dragged, and that younger audience wouldn’t understand the song’s message (they were totally wrong). Instead of cutting the version Dorothy sang in Kansas, they ended up cutting the reprise when Dorothy was imprisoned in the Wicked Witch’s lair.

VICTOR FLEMING SLAPPED JUDY GARLAND ON SET

Yes, it’s true. Victor Fleming slapped Judy Garland on set. To make things worse, the actress was just 16 years old at the time of the film’s shooting. Talk about totally inappropriate! It happened when director Victor Fleming ran into a bit of trouble during the scene where Dorothy slaps the Cowardly Lion. Apparently, Garland just couldn’t stop laughing. At this point in Garland’s career, she was less of a massive movie star and more of a teenage girl; she had never been in a production of this scale.

According to producer Pandro S. Berman, after Garland’s unshakeable case of the giggles was well under way, Fleming pulled her aside, slapped her and then told her to get back to work. That’s one way to rip the smile right off of a teenage girl’s face.

THE WIZARD OF OZ  WAS SUPPOSED TO LOOK TOTALLY DIFFERENT

The film’s original director, Richard Thorpe, had an entirely different idea of how the film should look. Dorothy more closely resembled the original drawings in John R. Neill’s book and had a chicer, blonde haircut with a full face of baby doll makeup.

Judy Garland, who arguably madeThe Wizard of Oz what it was, wasn’t cast for the role of Dorothy, either. Thorpe was hopeful that the studio could score Shirley Temple (which didn’t end up happening, but more on that later). Thorpe was also the one who cast Buddy Ebsen as the tin man. Thorpe ended up being fired from the film after two weeks.

JUDY GARLAND ALMOST DIDN’T PLAY DOROTHY

Judy Garland makes The Wizard of Oz what it is, and while she was always a studio favorite for the role, she wasn’t the studio favorite. Execs thought Shirley Temple was a better fit – she was a better age and a bigger star. Despite Temple’s fame, producers worried that she didn’t have a good enough singing voice for the part.

Fortunately for Garland, Temple was contracted to 20th Century Fox, not MGM. MGM wanted to trade Clark Gable and Jean Harlow for Temple, but the idea was shot down when Jean Harlow died unexpectedly at the age of 26. According to recent reports, it may have been Harlow’s toxic hair dye that caused her kidneys to fail and led to her untimely death.

A TEMPORARY DIRECTOR CAME UP WITH DOROTHY’S LOOK

After Thorpe was fired, George Cukor was brought in to be the film’s temporary director. He never intended to stay throughout the whole movie because he hoped to land a gig as the director of Gone with the Wind. Unfortunately, that coveted job ended up going to Victor Fleming, who ended up being the director of Wizard of Oz, too.

During Cukor’s stay on set, he gave Dorothy her signature look. He threw away the blonde wig and opted for something more “natural” that would directly contrast the fantastical nature of Oz.

BUDDY EBSEN, THE ORIGINAL TIN MAN, WAS POISONED ON SET

Poor Buddy Ebsen was cast as the hilarious, quirky tin man, but his stint on set was pretty short lived. Ebsen was actually poisoned in a freak accident that happened just nine days after filming began. Apparently, the silver makeup used in his character’s costume contained aluminum dust, which he inadvertently breathed in (it was all over his face, after all). His lungs failed, and he was hospitalized.

Ebsen spent two weeks in the hospital and took six more to recover at home. He had to be recast and was eventually replaced by Jack Haley, who did not suffer from the same aluminum allergy. To avoid the same problem, the makeup artists on set used aluminum paste instead of aluminum powder.

JACK HALEY DIDN’T HAVE A GREAT TIME AS THE TIN MAN EITHER

Playing the Tin Man really seemed like a labor of love. While it’s true that Ebsen may have been poisoned by the makeup, it’s not like Jack Haley had it easy. Even though makeup artists switched from aluminum powder to aluminum paint, Haley still contracted an eye infection.

The costume was also incredibly stiff (obviously, it’s the Tin Man!). Haley couldn’t rest in the costume whatsoever because he couldn’t sit down. He couldn’t even get up on his own if he decided to lie down on the ground. This forced him to stand up for the entire time his costume was on, and his only relief was leaning against something.

THE COWARDLY LION’S COSTUME WAS ACTUALLY MADE FROM REAL-LIFE LIONS

The Cowardly Lion’s costume is epic and pretty detailed to resemble what a lion would actually look like if it was part human. This is no accident – Bert Lahr’s costume for The Wizard of Oz was partially made from the pelts of real lions. This caused the costume to weigh a whopping 48 lbs (though he still had it better than the Tin Man).

Rumors also report that MGM considered using their famous lion Jackie – the lion in their logo – to play Bert Lahr’s role, but they ended opting for an actual human. Bert Lahr offers a really relatable, humorous take on the character that wouldn’t really be possible with an actual lion.

THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME FOR THESE SHOES

In 2005, one of the pairs of ruby slippers from The Wizard of Oz was stolen from a museum in Minnesota. In September 2018, 13 years later, law authorities announced that they had located the treasured slippers. North Dakota United States Attorney Christopher Myers said, "We reached the first goal, the recovery, and it’s a great day. But we’re not done. Police are still working to determine who the thief is."

There are six known pairs of ruby slippers worn by Judy Garland during filming. Fans can visit some of the other pairs at locations such as the National Museum of American History, the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences Museum, and Oz Park in Chicago. Other pairs are owned by private collectors.

*Sources: unfilteredhooch.net

MGM Studios/MGM Studios/Getty Images

💚💚💚

[itsblissfuloblivion]

Torch - Chapter 4: December

A/N: We are on time!  Lots of holiday hi-jinks and Harry coming to terms with some feelings and stuff in his life.  Hope you enjoy!

Love,

@fightfortherightsofhouseelves

&

@gryffindormischief

Also on FF and Ao3

Torch: a Hinny canon compliant multi-chaptered fic featuring HBP missing moments. Updates every first day of every month, from September 2019 to August 2020.

____

December roars in like a lion, harsh and unrelenting with gusting winds and ever growing snowdrifts that seem to hedge the castle’s inhabitants inside either by impassibility or impossibility . The wind chill dipped low enough that Harry nearly didn’t try to sneak out for a fly, but even as he did Filch and Madam Hooch each caught Harry on his path to the pitch. Still, he did duck their attention and sneak past the courtyard beneath his cloak.

And yet, the moment his boots crunched in the snow, Harry felt as if the cold, blustering wind chapped nearly every inch of his body, exposed or not. Disappointed and somewhat damp, Harry trooped back indoors and did his best to vanish his puddling tracks to avoid detection as well as detention. Harry feels like a bit of a ponce for laughing at his own joke but honestly he’s begun to reach the point where he can’t deny himself simple, dull pleasures when the majority of his existence feels like one self-denial after the next.

The most glaring of which, is an increasingly uncomfortable pang ringing through his chest every time he sees the swish of Ginny’s robes, his lungs draw in a breath of her scent, or she says something brilliant and cheeky. Hell, sometimes he’s sitting in the humid greenhouses listening to Professor Sprout warn them about some venomous, bloodsucking, carnivorous something or other and Harry’s mind wanders to the slant of Ginny’s smile or the delightful peal of her laughter.

And then Ron will pass him a note or just let out a snort in his sleep and Harry feels the chain of responsibility to his best mate tighten around his heart.

It wouldn’t be a betrayal in the classic sense. But risking Ron, the Weasleys, Hermione - and even Ginny herself - for the possibility of returned... feelings or whatever seems like a gamble he can’t take. Not when everything good in his life seems like it hangs from one delicate thread.

Now, as he sits across from Ron in the common room, each half-assing the chapter questions to prepare them for the next day’s Potions lesson, Harry shoves all thoughts of Ginny down low and deep so they settle like lead in his stomach. At least it feels like he can breathe again.

Which is for the best, since his Lavender-free Ron time is low and half the time when he does get it there’s some related drama that manages to worm its way in.

So when they’re nearing the end of their problem sets - with the Prince’s assist - Harry decides to take full advantage and grabs the community chess board. “How’d you like to wipe the floor with me in a game?”

Ron frowns thoughtfully. “I can always tutor you, Harry,” and then a hint of mischief teases his lips, “You’re not a total dunce.”

Kicking his shin beneath the table, Harry shoves their books and other detrius aside, settling the board on the table with a dull thud and the clatter of loose pieces.

Considering this is a community board, it’s remarkable how many pieces have remained intact and actually with the board. Plus, it’s an unspoken rule that if a student finds the board with missing pieces they are obligated to fill the empty place with something creative and magically enhanced.

Overall, they’ve just got mismatched bits from other boards and one intricate Origami-type knight that flits about the board rather than sliding like the rest.

Harry and Ron volley the first few rounds back and forth quickly, and almost as quickly Harry loses two pawns and Ron commands his full army like a proud general.

The fire crackles warmly in the grate as they continue game-play with no losses and Ron gradually enacts what Harry’s almost certain will be his undoing. It’s an odd thing because on one hand, Harry hates to lose and on the other, watching Ron in action is a sight to behold. Although the casual ‘tips’ that really sound more like taunts are going to earn him some itching powder in his sheets.

Harry’s just finally taken one pawn and from the gleam in Ron’s eye fallen right into the trap set for him, when the sickly sweet scent of Lavender’s perfume engulfs the table.

And though Ron’s hormone induced googly eyes have cleared somewhat since that fateful victory party, he still abandons Harry mid-game with promises to resume.

Leaving Harry positive that the itch powder plot will definitely be unleashed and wondering whether this is how relationships go .

It’s not that he doesn’t understand the infatuation, he wishes he didn’t to be honest, but to be so wrapped up - and to let someone be so wrapped up.

Not that it’s Lavender’s fault, but could it be right to be with someone who doesn’t recognize how important your mates are? To let someone take so much of your sense that you alienate one and ditch the other at the drop of a hat?

He doesn’t begrudge Ron fun, or a life outside of him and Hermione, but things should fit not drive a wedge. At least in Harry’s mind.

His dream girlfriend would fit in right alongside them all, bust his arse and tease Ron, love Hermione and give her a run for her money. She would - well perhaps further detail isn’t the best considering his train of thought gets narrower and narrower and it begins to become clear that his dream, his ideal, is very real and very unattainable.

____

The days until December 20, when the Slug Club Christmas Party will be upon Harry and his frail nerves (and probably so will jolly Professor Slughorn), resemble a maze filled with booby traps to Harry. In this particular case, the booby traps are laid by fellow Gryffindor Romilda Vane, by his best mates’ quarreling, by Ron snogging Lavender ostentatiously all over Hogwarts, and of course by Draco plotting his sneaky plots in full liberty because no one would simply listen .

By December 20, at precisely eight in the evening, Romilda Vane’s tried to push spiked gillywater on him, offered him probably love potion infested Chocolate Cauldrons, if what Hermione’s heard in the girls’ bathroom is correct. Hermione herself announced she’s attending the party with that McLaggen buffoon so loud that she might as well have shouted from the Astronomy Tower while Ron morphed into the pettiest version of himself by laughing at Hermione in class leaving Luna of all people as the one to comfort her back in the girls’ bathroom again.

So many things happening in that bathroom, so many stupid feelings Harry really doesn’t want to deal with.

Therefore he sends everything to hell and surprises himself by inviting Luna to the party, as friends. At least she’s a decent human being, doesn’t giggle absurdly, and is genuinely kind. At least he has that.

And the Prince. Yeah, the Prince helps more than his real life friends most of these days.

Forlorn and sighing, Harry nearly confesses his loneliness and despair to Hedwig since both friends aren’t available and Ginny’s...probably getting ready for her date with Dean Thomas. He hasn’t asked, but by now Harry’s fairly certain she’s bound to go with Dean to the Slug Club party, dance with Dean, kiss Dean.

With another sigh, Harry checks the time: 7:50 PM. Time to go.

As he enters the theatrically adorned chamber next to Luna, a crowd of girls glowering in their wake, his eyes scan the space for hints of red hair. Instead, he finds Hermione looking harassed and dishevelled, in a hurry to escape McLaggen’s less than desirable presence and attentions. He’d really love to confront her with a most heartfelt I told you so , but he’s got more pressing matters on his plate at the moment. Such as why isn’t Ginny at the party, is she alright, what did that berk do to her and also why is that slimy git Malfoy sneaking in? Isn’t he supposed to have known Slughorn since he was in nappies or some such?

If he’d ever be asked to recount what happened after Malfoy’s impromptu appearance, he’d only be able to say what he’d been saying for the past four months: that Draco Malfoy is up to something. Which apparently is not enough for anybody because the situation is as stale as before. Malfoy is indeed up to something, Snape is helping him and the world is closing its eyes and ears and letting it happen. Brilliant.

As he drags his feet back to the Common Room, Harry’s mind buzzing with the latest information, he still has half a hope that the Fat Lady will swing aside to let him in and there’ll be Ginny, alone in the armchair by the fire, studying or maybe even taking a moment to relax in spite of the ever looming OWLs.

But there’s no one waiting for him behind the portrait door and no fire in the hearth. Just the Common Room, drafty and chill, motionless and deadly quiet in the dark.

There’s no Dean either in their shared bedroom. No Ron and no Seamus. Only Neville, lightly snoring from beneath his sheets.

Perhaps they’ve all gone to a party of their own.

Perhaps they’re happy and laughing and don’t need him anymore.

Perhaps...it’s time he sleeps. After all, they’ll be leaving Hogwarts soon and there’s so much he needs to do before he boards the train.

Harry sighs, hugs the pillow closer to his chest and closes his eyes.

The train trundles over the tracks that slice through the Scottish countryside, dark against the blanket of snow continually refreshed by flurries slowly drifting from the clouds overhead.

Harry’s tried more than a few times to close his eyes for a brief rest, only to be jostled either nearly to the floor or so that his forehead slams against the chilled glass window. Even if he could find a comfortable position, his mind is still whirring with the details of Snape and Malfoy’s conversation. It had been just vague enough that no one was going to believe him. At least not enough to actually do something with the information. Nevermind that Malfoy had bashed Harry’s nose in and left him for dead or at least for severe discomfort and intense inconvenience. Harry was apparently reading into things, imagining the odd conversations and even stranger behavior, and Malfoy meanwhile was a bloody Prefect.

Honestly, it’s reached the point where it feels as if his life has no point. He tries and searches and puts himself in danger and still each year it’s a random series of events that he can’t plan or prepare for that lead to near death or - well in the worst cases there have been deaths. And for all Harry’s targeted by Voldemort and his supporters, it never feels like he’s earned the distinction by doing anything but somehow managing to stay alive.

He’s just let his forehead thud against the glass again, the cool pane easing the ever-present ache of his scar, when the compartment door slides open.

Harry’s hoping for Ron, sans Lavender and his recent bad attitude, but finds another Weasley studying him curiously.

“Hey, Gin.”

She blinks. “What’s with the face, sad man?”

Slumping lower in his seat, Harry props his legs on the opposite bench and sighs. “I just feel - do you ever - ”

He can’t quite work out the words to explain himself, not without sounding like a wingy baby or giving Ginny a dangerous amount of information. When he glances up, Ginny’s still eyeing him speculatively.

“You haven’t narrowed things down much with those little fragments,” Ginny says, lips kicking up in a wry half smile.

“It just feels like, year after year, I’m left with these huge decisions and responsibilities and people die and it’s my fault. And still no one ever believes me when I tell them shite is about to go down.”

Ginny pauses a moment before perching on the bench opposite him and smoothing her school robes. “I think - well I suppose the first thing I should like to address is the fact that none of this is ever your fault, Harry.”

Her eyes are watery and her voice is low and full of fire as she continues, gaze pinned to her dark tights. “Riddle, he - he does what he wants, when he wants, and you’re one of the far too few people who’ve recognized him for what he is and done something about it. Not sitting around the wireless and having a good long chat. You’re - you’re always out in the thick of things and risking your stupid, noble neck and if idiots like Skeeter or anyone else have shite to say about you well then - “

One angry tear escapes down her cheek, though her jaw is set firm. “Then they’ll have me to answer to, yeah?”

She chuckles darkly and shrugs, “As for nobody believing you, I’d suggest lessons from Lockhart but I suppose that’s not really feasible, eh?”

“He was fairly expert winning converts.”

There’s a pause and quiet settles between them while the Hogwarts Express rattles through the snow before Ginny rises and pats Harry’s knee. “For what it’s worth, I’m always in your corner.”

“I could be a complete nutter.”

“You haven’t been wrong yet,” Ginny says with a shrug as she grips the door handle, “Except about that weird moustache attempt at the start of October. Not good.”

Harry flushes. “Ron is a pranking arsehole.”

“Sure,” Ginny winks.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Harry manages a somewhat strangled goodbye. “Have a uh - nice time with Dean.”

Ginny’s mouth opens and closes around nothing before she smiles, almost forced seeming. “Sure. See you at home then.”

____

Like Hogwarts, the Burrow has always given Harry a very at home feeling. The smell of a fresh, steaming meal cooked with love and care, the lilt of so many laughs shared between the cramped little house’s inhabitants, the paper chains and fairy lights Ginny likes to put up every Christmas, everything gives Harry the feeling that he’s welcomed and safe.

Hermione’s presence is the only missing element to Harry, mostly in the moments they usually spent in the room beneath the attic. He can picture every detail, Hermione sitting cross legged on one of the beds, a book on her lap, Ron and Harry daring each other to another round of Exploding Snap or simply laughing - probably because Fleur said something equally snotty and funny while Mrs Weasley nearly combusted and Bill looked lovingly at his bride to be.

But Hermione isn’t here and Ron and her aren’t talking anymore. Harry doesn’t want to complain, Ron’s his best mate and all, but Lavender just gifted him a ghastly Won-Won locket for Christmas and if Ron’s too daft to put a stop to this then someone really should.

In all fairness, Kreacher’s maggots aren’t that appalling right now.

Or maybe they are and Harry’s just a bit sour that his best mate and his girlfriend are gross, who knows.

Still, when Harry lightly jokes about this with Ginny because he can’t really help himself and he’s long since stopped denying himself the simple pleasure of...conversing with her (and perhaps peeking to see if Dean’s sent her anything for Christmas - a failed mission, Ginny’s much too careful and private), her only reaction is:

“Don’t you dare knock some sense into him. This is too entertaining to stop so soon.”

And the mischievous grin on her face as she says it is what truly does Harry in: he accepts that he either blurts out his feelings or combusts from the pressure of keeping everything mashed up inside his chest.

Thankfully, it’s Bill who saves him from something that could have easily become Harry’s single most embarrassing memory by calling them both to help with Christmas dinner preparations.

Ginny marches down with a roll of her eyes and a snide comment, while Harry feels lighter somehow and so very thankful.

Before he steps out of the living room however Bill’s hand falls steady on his shoulder.

“Don’t take too long,” he says, looking Harry in the eye for a beat.

Harry’s left to wonder what to say, if he intended to convey what Harry thinks he did, and finally how did he guess...

It’s funny how other people can read your heart in an instant when it takes you months to even begin to realise. Life’s funny like that. Harry’s life at least.

When Harry reaches the cosy dinner party, he’s pushed in a chair between Fleur and Ron, the latter’s mouth already full with what seems to be a bite of what each platter has to offer. The table’s an impressive blend between mouth-watering smells and the clatter of forks and knives, the hearth crackling invitingly in the background, the room lit with candles upon candles perched on lampads serenely floating by magic.

Turkey, roast potatoes, stuffing, pigs in blankets, Yorkshire Pudding, gravy, Brussel sprouts, cranberry sauce, Christmas pudding, and mince pies, all garnish the Weasley family table as the wireless plays lowly (sans Celestina Warbeck tonight) and they eat and talk and feel merry.

“Is Hermione not joining us, dear?” Mrs Weasley asks the room at large although, to Harry, her question seems pointed.

Ron coughs briefly into his plate, grunts something akin to a “No” as Ginny takes her time rolling her eyes for a dramatic effect.

“She was - er, busy,” Harry half-asses an excuse as he generously dips another bite of turkey into a nice serving of gravy.

“What I’d give to be sixteen again and starting a relationship,” Mrs Weasley chuckles, her eyes glazed over, mind already down memory lane.

“What would you give, Molly dear?” Mr Weasley teases.

“Oh, I don’t know, but remember the thrill of seeing each other in Hogsmeade, Arthur? Nothing compared to those weekends. Ah, so lovely being young and in love,” she smiles, rising to bring another plate full of steaming hot turkey.

And perhaps it’s not just Harry who notices the ill looking shade on Ron’s face and that his fork hasn’t scooped any bites for a good couple of minutes.

“How’re things with that Dean Thomas guy, little sis?” Bill changes the topic, casually asking over the dinner table and Harry can swear he’d seen him wink in his general direction.

Ginny simply shrugs, “None of your business.”

“Now come on, Ginny,” Fred grins.

“We’re only looking after you, as responsible big brothers,” George continues.

“No need,” she drawls between two spoonfuls of pudding.

“We heard he’s a good flyer,” George pipes up, grinning dangerously.

“But does he have any other qualities?” Fred wiggles his eyebrows.

Ginny pauses, looks them both in the eyes and mutters, “Plenty.”

To be completely honest, Harry was expecting a furtive glance or maybe a different answer - perhaps a merge between “He’s a terrible kisser” and “I’ve dumped him.”

Instead a simple word, plenty , is what makes his food come back with haste and it takes all his willpower to fight it back. Plenty.

He’s now joined Ron in the ill looking, besotted fools’ corner, unable to eat another bite because suddenly everything tastes like bleach down his throat. Always together like the best mates they are, eh.

Plenty .

And it all goes further down spiralling at lightning speed when Percy, as pompous as ever, trots in importantly, the Minister at his tails.

Harry can’t recall exactly when everybody’s retreated to their rooms, Mrs Weasley a mess of tears and hiccups, Mr Weasley looking broken hearted and all their children feeling angry and ready to throw a punch up Percy’s nose. Hell, Harry feels the same and him and Percy aren’t even related.

The following five days leading up to the New Year are somewhat tamer, freestyle Quidditch (Christmas themed), listening to Bill and Fleur swap stories from Egypt and France, and Exploding Snap tournaments with a Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes twist included. Learning about Veelas and curse breaking amongst century old mummies of former pharaohs is more interesting than Harry’d ever guessed and he can’t help but think that both Bill and Fleur might fit better in an Indiana Jones movie than crammed in a small cottage in Devon.

Which is a slightly peculiar thought considering he himself has always hated the spotlight but somehow some of the Weasleys seem to belong there, to dazzle, to impress effortlessly.

Ginny, for instance, she’s...a superb flyer. She’d belong nowhere better than on a pitch, kicking arse and smart-mouthing everyone around her, wild red hair flying all over, impish smile widely flashing.

Ginny. Unwillingly he’d found himself around her a great deal more since that little “plenty” thing. As if she’s sought him again and again, as if to show him that perhaps she didn’t mean it like it sounded.

But then again why wouldn’t she? Dean is her boyfriend, as Harry’d been so bluntly reminded not five days before.

Still, whenever he does find a cosy spot on the couch, there’s Ginny next to him. At the table, his elbow bumps into hers as they eat, exchanging looks and jokes unspoken. Before bed, her eyes linger just a second longer, her fingers fiddling, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

And as they celebrate the New Year - ah, Harry believes he needs a good old crowbar over the head because she’s beautiful, her deep brown eyes filled with sparks and colours as the fireworks crash and collide in the night sky, and he’s insane enough to stand next to her. He’s such a fool.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

She looks up at him, eyes big and waiting.

Seven.

Six.

His heart beats faster.

Five.

Four.

Three.

“Harry…”

Two.

“Would you...?”

One.

Her hands clasp at the back of his neck, her temple flush against his chest, against that heart that can’t stop beating and he sits there like a sad, sad fool as Ginny slowly dips her head to look him in the eyes.

She’s impossibly beautiful, flowery scent intoxicating his brain.

“Harry, do you promise me?”

He has no idea what she’s asking him to promise, but he is completely certain he’d even promise her the moon if only she’d ask for it.

“What we talked about on our way home. On the train.”

What they talked about…? Oh.

“Promise you’ll stay away from danger this year, that you’ll fight that noble impulse of yours? Bugger Malfoy or Snape or anyone else, just stay safe, Harry, please,” she whispers, arms still around him and Harry hopes she’d hold him like that forever.

Forever only lasts a second and not more sometimes because as soon as he nods, she’s gone with another glance full to the brink with something so intense and yet with absolutely nothing.

Happy New Year, Harry. You’re still all alone and very lonely.

[gothamphantomgoat]