#and its not anyone's fault in particular. certainly not the poster's. its just been a very stressful time lately.

[an-aro-made-of-aspen]

I love seeing those posts with the parents celebrating their queer kids, tbh.

But it's like a bittersweet, double-edged sword for me. I'm so happy for these people and it means so much knowing people are out there that are respectful and accepting of their kids and of the LGBT+ community.

And it just reminds me that the people I'm around, that I work with or live with/near just... aren't. They aren't like that. They don't accept us. Or they just dismiss me and my feelings. My sibling is the only one who isn't like that in my life. And it hurts to realize that. But, at the same time, I'm not in the worst situation, I'm not in physical danger (if you don't count my general workplace hazards). I just. Can't be out. I can't go around wearing my flag in the open. I can't casually mention that I'm aro or queer in some way without scorn or dismissal. And I can't talk about the problems I have or the successes I've found. Because they don't wanna listen. Because I don't matter to these people outside of a "carefree" smile and "Disney Princess" attitude.

I wish I was more.

More courageous. More interesting. More well-spoken.

More palatable.

But I'm not. And I never will be on at least a couple of those things (working on the courage, lol). And I shouldn't have to wish for that just so people would listen to me or take me seriously. I'm 24. I know my voice is squeaky. I know I act carefree and easy-going. But that doesn't mean I don't want to be taken seriously or don't want people to listen to me.

Or that I don't want to be myself.

I want to be a whole person. Not a caricature of myself or a shell of a person I don't know.

I'm tired.

[tumbledfreckles]

Absolutely!

She should not be doing this. She knows she should not be doing this. She'd been warned against doing this.

But really, Quidditch practice ended half an hour ago. Surely he would have cleaned up by now. Right?

Hope this works! <33

This has not been edited, and it should have been edited, but screw it, I loved this prompt, I've stayed up way past bed time to write it, I wrote 1800 words instead of the 500 I planned, so have it in it's unedited glory and don't judge me too harshly. It's late, but its shirtless James Potter May or Jumpers off for June or really, just a thirst trap drabble to get your week going well.

Lily knocked softly on the door to the locker rooms, her breath caught in her throat, a thrum of anxiety running in her veins. When there was no sound, no answering call, no bid to enter, she paused for only moments, before biting her lip and pushing on the door handle.

She should not be doing this.

Her footsteps were quiet as she made her way down the long corridor that led to the locker rooms. Doors of the unoccupied rooms were shut, her finger tips dragged against the names of each team as she went. Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and then finally, at the very end, Gryffindor. Unlike the others, this door was set slightly jar, light seen through the gaps, but no sounds emerged. The team had clearly departed.

She knows she should not be doing this.

Lily gritted her teeth, taking a deep breath as she pushed open the door, wide enough for her to slip through. It closed gently after her, allowing her to lean back against it, hands still caught on the handle behind her. She clutched the handle for dear life, knowing she should turn it and go back through. Knowing that to go further into the room was a boundary she shouldn’t cross.

She’d be warned against doing this.

As expected, the locker room was at least empty. She’d never been in here before, not being on the team, and never before having anyone she’d wanted to follow into the abyss. The reality was as bad as Lily had imagined. Likely due to the graces and actions of the house elves, it was cleaner than expected. There were no used towels piling around, no dirty, soiled uniforms discarded. The walls were filled with posters and pictures of Gryffindor Quidditch teams throughout the years. Banners and scarves lined the players' open lockers, caught on the name plates fastened above each one.

Almost as soon as she noted the name plates, her eyes caught on one in particular. A name that had fallen from her lips more often than her own had this year. A name that used to come out with derision, but was now pronounced with warmth, with feeling, with an unexplainable but inexplicable feeling of joy. The locker below it was the least orderly of them all, clothing still hung on the hooks, shoes and boots underneath the bench seat in front of it. Shin guards and pads and flying goggles still littered the bench and shelf.

The captain himself was nowhere to be found however. The sound of running water drew her attention to another doorway, at the far end of the locker room. Steam poured out of that room, leaving Lily in doubt that it was the way to the showers. Somewhere she definitely shouldn’t be going. She could wait out here for him. She only wanted to check on him, close the loop on their earlier conversation. She felt guilty for leaving him hanging, but that was no reason to follow him into the showers, surely.

But, really, Quidditch practise ended half an hour ago. Surely, he would have cleaned up by now. Right?

With that solid, solid reasoning ringing in her brain, spurring her on despite a wealth of misgivings, Lily moved forward. Her heart was racing but her movements somehow remained slow, cautious.

“Potter?” she called at the doorway.

No answer came.

Lily shook her head, cheeks already turning red as she contemplated her next action seconds before completing it.

She was only two steps in when she pulled up short.

James stood under the shower, mere metres from where Lily herself stood. A low wall hid most of his lower anatomy, but his back was on full display. Water ran in rivulets over strong, broad, tanned shoulders. It drained off his elbows as James reached to scrub at his hair, a movement Lily had seen him do a million times across their seven years of schooling, but never when he was wet. Certainly not when he was otherwise naked. His back arched, showing the muscles down his spine, lifting the beginnings of the curve of his arse into view.

“Fuck,” Lily whispered, her mouth having gone completely dry.

Of course, while he hadn’t heard her earlier call, he heard her quiet swear. Or maybe he’d felt the weight of her entranced, intoxicated stare. Before Lily could remove herself from a situation she definitely shouldn’t be in, even if it was the most beautiful site she’d seen all day, all week, all year, James turned.

“Lil- Evans,” he said in surprise, jumping slightly, before shutting off the water and reaching for the towel resting on the edge of the wall. “What’s wrong?”

“Noth- shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -”Lily started, taking a step back, only she missed the doorway and landed against the wall next to instead.

It really wasn’t her fault she couldn’t focus.

If James’ back with a gift of meticulously carved marble, smooth skin and muscle that Lily just wanted to sink her teeth into, then his front was a bloody work of art. Well defined pectorals sat prominently, on his chest, surrounded by curved shoulders, impressive biceps that helped his brilliant throws on the field. Pools of water had collected in the curve of his collarbones, enough that Lily could have lapped happily to ease her suddenly restricted throat.

She’d seen glimpses of his abdominals before. He was always reaching for his hair, running a hand through the beautiful, silky locks, she couldn’t help but get flashes as his shirt, or t-shirt, or jumper lifted up. Especially when he was already stretching back across the couch, complaining about the Prefect’s schedule, the points schedule, or the meeting schedule. Any schedule really, just because he knew it would rile her up. So she’d seen his stomach from time to time. Knew his prowess on the Pitch couldn’t come from someone who wasn’t totally fit. But seeing it glistening, rippling as he moved, shadows from the dimmed bathroom lighting emphasising each curve, well…

It was really more than one girl could be expected to take.

“Evans,” James tried again, frowning as he finished wrapping a towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower area toward her. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Lily tried not to focus on how the twisted knot of the towel sat dead centre below his navel. How it drew the eyeline down. How the muscles in his sides pointed down like an arrow toward that knot, making her wonder what was underneath the knot.

“Uh,” Lily forced her eyes up. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you.”

She pretended not to notice how droplets collected on his eyelashes, so much easier to see without his glasses. How his face was devoid of its usual smirk, concern etched across his face instead, furrowing his brow, straightening his smile.

“Sure,” James glanced around, “I was coming back to the castle, you could have waited.”

“I couldn’t,” Lily blurted, before she could stop herself. “I couldn’t wait.”

James quirked an eyebrow, but paused in his steps, now less than three steps from her. At this distance, she could smell him. He was perfumed by that familiar scent of pine and spice, but in the heat and the humidity of the room it surrounded her, consumed her. She tried to take a deep breath in, to focus and prepare herself, but all it did was allow the scent to overwhelm her.

“Well, have at it, Evans,” he encouraged. “I’m listening.”

“Well, before, earlier.. You, uh… you asked, well and I, you, I didn’t,” Lily sighed impatiently at her stuttering, rolling her eyes before realising that meant she couldn’t look at him. Tried to remind herself not to look at him, it was clearly too much to look at such a sight and string a sentence together. Much more of her blithering and he wouldn’t care for what she had to say, mad woman that she was.

“Still waiting, Evans,” James teased now, a small curve of his lips appearing now. He seemed to be realising what had her in such a fluster, and took another step forward. Within reaching distance. Touching distance.

“Oh, fuck it,” Lily breathed, and gave in.

There was no resistance as she reached out and snagged James by the hand, then his waist, then his neck. She tugged his head down, and it came easily until, with a final push on her toes, she crashed her lips against his. His mouth moved without hesitation, giving as good as he got, pushing her back into the wall with a satisfying oof, his teeth finding her bottom lip, pulling it until her mouth opened and the punishing kiss turned into something deeper, sweeter, more satisfying.

Lily’s hands threaded into his hair, before dancing down to shoulders, stroking along his chest. She couldn’t pick a place she wanted them to rest, so she just didn’t, and touched and admired and petted to her heart’s content. James didn’t appear to mind her cheek was cupped, her waist wrapped up with one of those delicious arms she’d admired. He was still warm from the shower, still damp from neglecting to dry off, and she could feel that heat pushing through her clothes, flattening them against her, allowing his touch to burn through to her needy skin.

Without meaning too, having not consciously thought the action through, Lily’s hand landed on the knot in the towel she’d been so focused on moments earlier. The action gave them both reason to pause, and James pulled back just enough as they panted for breath and stared at each other.

She’d never seen his eyes so black, the hazel almost completely hidden dilated pupils and a blazing fire that would have taken her breath, if only his lips hadn’t done the job already. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Lily’s eyes followed the movement closely, her newly acquired knowledge of the feel, the taste of his tongue, making her imagine in a way that was all too real, how it would feel if he did the same to her.

“You had an answer for me, Evans?” his voice was hoarse, husky, like he’d run a marathon in the seconds, minutes, that they’d been kissing.

“I hardly think it matters now,” Lily’s laugh was almost bitter as it escaped from her, as she pushed back wet hair from his forehead, brushing her thumb softly across the scar above his eyebrow.

“Tell me anyway,” his fingers brushed down her arm, tipped her chin up, catching her lips again for a brief but perfect kiss.

Lily sighed, kissed him again to stall, cupped his face with both her hands to make sure he was paying attention. She was only going to say this once.

“Yes, I’d love to go to Hogsmeade with you next weekend.”

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.15}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.5k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

When the door fell closed again and Robin was left standing in the hallway by herself, in her pajamas, she sighed to herself. What a way to start a birthday… But then again, a part of her (an unsurprisingly large one) was also quite excited to have a very good reason to go find Snape once more. Not that she planned on staying longer than necessary, but the prospect of seeing him at all brought a smile to her lips and thus she started making her way towards the office. Still in her pajamas, much to her discontent. Not that she minded Snape seeing her in flannels and her Queen shirt at this point, he'd had that pleasure far too often already to pay mind to it by now, and it was rather the act of walking through the castle in her pajamas that she wasn't too fond of. But it was in the middle of the night, which made it unlikely that anyone would even see her at all. Thus she made her way out of the common room and through the dark hallways until she arrived in front of the office, where she unlocked the door only to find the room behind it dark and empty. Odd… didn't he still have those essays to grade for Monday? After checking the classroom as well and finding it in the same state, she went to the lab next, but it also proved to be vacant. He can't seriously have chosen this one instance to actually listen to her suggestion of going to bed early, can he? Insufferable idiot… but it wasn't his fault that she was trying to save his arse from some pathetic prank.

Robin groaned under her breath, putting her head into her neck for a moment before she made her way back down the hallway and towards where she believed his private chambers to be. It honestly wasn't too difficult a task to find the right place once she actually tried to, and before long she found herself in a hallway she had never been in before. It literally only had one single door going off to the side, and that made matters rather easy for her. As she stood there, trying to decide if she should knock or speak, she couldn't help wondering what the professors' rooms looked like in the castle in general, and Snape's room in particular. Certainly it was more spacious, and probably a lot more comfortable than the dorms as well. Would it have the same dusty and gloomy aesthetic as his house back in England? But then again, he spent way more time up here, he had said so himself… so his rooms here might just as well look entirely different.

Shaking her head to herself to put an end to her useless string of thoughts, she finally decided to knock. Three times, certain, and firmly as always. Generic as it could be. It took a few seconds but then she could hear movement, and finally the door was ripped open with a force that had her taking a step backwards instinctively. As soon as his dark eyes fell onto Robin however, the scowl on his face was gone in an instant and his entire demeanour changed from sheer furor and annoyance to question and concern.

"Robin! What-..." He started in mild surprise, but cut himself off after a second as he took in her appearance, then glimpsed down either side of the hallway, and finally just pulled her into the room before shutting the door behind them again.

Of course Robin's heart wouldn't miss the opportunity to start racing again, and for a moment she allowed herself to inspect the room she now found herself in. It was similar to his house, and yet entirely different in a way. First her eyes were drawn to a fireplace with a sofa in front of it, as it was the brightest spot in the room, lit up and tinted in a faint orange glow. The walls around it were lined with shelves, filled with books and quite a few other things actually, which she didn't have the time to inspect right now. But there was a small table with two chairs along one of those walls, hiding some of the books and objects from her vision, and she allowed her eyes to linger there for a moment only, before the next curiosity caught her attention. On two walls there were surprisingly large windows for a room in the dungeons, which could only mean that they must be in one of the corners of the castle that were facing the cliffside instead of the black lake… There was no water behind the glass, after all, unlike the common room on the other side of the dungeons. Robin frowned for a second as she thought; she didn't know a single other room down here with a windowed corner. Obviously being the only professor who lived in the dungeons had its perks; he got the very best room of them all. Honestly, she wouldn't even be surprised if he had the nicest room of all the professors. So her eyes wandered on, over the large desk which was even more meticulously organised than the one in the office, and over the wall of ceiling-high shelves that separated the room and shielded off the far right corner. Her gaze fell onto a four-poster bed that looked much like the students' ones, but about double the size, with the softest looking duvet she had ever seen, and dark green sheets that seemed almost black in the candlelight… she quickly looked away before she had the time to blush. Geez, it was just a bloody piece of furniture; get a grip, idiot! As she averted her eyes, she also saw a closed door other than the one to the hallway, and she simply assumed that it would lead to a private bathroom. Finally when she had roughly taken everything in, her eyes returned to Snape only to find him observing her in obvious amusement already.

"Are you done with the inspection?" He asked with one raised eyebrow, and now Robin did feel the heat creeping up her neck after all. Thank god it was quite dimly lit in here.

"Not nearly. But that will have to wait until a later point in time." She replied honestly, despite being called out for her undeniable curiosity.

"What brings you here then? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine… I thought you would still be in the office, to be honest. I didn't think you would actually take my advice about getting some sleep."

"I do take advice, occasionally, but only when nobody can tell that I do." He replied almost easily, and Robin had to smile in return. "But I would still feel a lot better if I knew what brings you here."

"It's nothing of any gravity, really… But it couldn't wait until morning."

"Building suspense as always, are we?" He quipped, and motioned to the sofa, before sitting down himself. Robin followed the example, and crossed her legs beneath her like she always did. For some reason, she felt no less comfortable being here now than she was in the lab or the office. All three rooms were very much Snape, in their neatness and calm and familiarity, and perhaps that was the reason why she loved either of them so much.

"Yes, no suspense, I'm sorry." She said as she shook her head to herself again, and finally started explaining. "I'm here because tomorrow morning some kids want to put salt into your coffee."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Snape started laughing, actually laughing, and Robin didn't know if she should laugh too, feel offended, or stare in awe. Either would have been an appropriate reaction, and since her brain couldn't settle for one, she did all three at once, which must've looked odd enough for him to stop laughing at last. Instead, he looked at her with a small smile now, which Robin still couldn't really put much meaning to. Why was this so amusing to him? He hated these things, all those imbeciles and their childish jokes… usually, at least.

"I don't understand what's funny about it." She decided to voice her thoughts at last. "I spent an hour being mad about it and trying to find a way to prevent it from happening, and you just… laugh?"

"I can see how that seems unreasonable, yes." He replied, and his amusement now toned down a bit. "Believe me, I wasn't laughing at you. Neither about the issue itself."

"Then what's so funny?"

"For one, I'm simply relieved that you are only here about a practical joke, and not about another situation that might end with you being hurt. Then of course there is the absurdity of the entire situation… I hadn't imagined that it would be salt in my coffee that would bring you to my room for the first time."

"But you did imagine what exactly would?" She quirked an eyebrow at him with a smirk, deciding that humour would be a better way to deal with his words than turning into a flustered mess again would be. He probably hadn't meant anything by it in the first place. But still, for a moment, she was sure to see an actual blush on his cheeks for once, a faintest tint of crimson, but it might as well have been the light of the candles, a mere shadow. It made her heart skip a beat nonetheless.

"Tell me more about that practical joke." He said a moment later, not even trying to hide the fact that he wasn't answering her question. "How did you come to know of it?"

Robin sighed, and did them both the favour of ignoring the previous conversation indeed. "I don't know much… Some sixth year by the name of Parker planned it with his friends. They're going to put salt into all the drinks for the head table in general, and obviously everyone finds it hilarious. Cas heard from Simon, and she told Jorien and me about it just an hour ago. But no matter how stupid of a predicament that puts me into, I couldn't let it happen without telling you. To save your morning, at least."

"I imagine you wouldn't want me to put an end to it then, before the disaster ensues… That would certainly reveal your involvement."

"I would appreciate it if you didn't. I know it's probably a stupid situation for you too, to know and not tell your-..."

"I don't particularly care, actually." He shrugged, with an almost humoured expression once again. "I will certainly undo the damage before enjoying my own coffee, but my colleagues' fates are their own. And I wouldn't put your relationship with your roommates at risk over something as imbecile as this."

"Thank you! Really, I appreciate it. But I have another favor to ask of you, one that's not entirely my own." Robin replied with an apologetic expression. "Can you please tell McGonagall about it too, before breakfast? And ask her not to spoil it either? I know, that's going to be incredibly hard, but it is really important to me."

"I certainly will tell her if you'd like me to. However I am curious to know why your mixed sentiments for her seem to have changed enough to warrant such concern about her now."

"They haven't changed at all… It's about Jorien. She wants McGonagall spared, but can't reveal it as her own intention for various reasons, so I told her I would do what I can."

"And why don't you simply tell her yourself like you are telling me now?"

"Well, I don't think McGonagall would've been happy to find me in front of her door at this time of night." Robin said with a humoured smile, then had to snort. "Especially not in my pajamas."

"Indeed, I don't think she's particularly fond of Queen." He mused, and Robin had to laugh even more at his tone. "If your apparel is the problem, you could have warned both her and me in the morning. Not that I would dare to complain, but why did you choose to do it now instead?"

"Finding you in the morning was my plan, originally, but I was made aware that I won't be able to. I was just about to go to sleep actually, hence the pajamas, when Jorien told me that I wouldn't get a minute to myself before breakfast because of some plans they have made for my birthday, and-..."

"What time is it?" He asked and his voice was suddenly rid of every humour at all, as was his face.

"Eh… around one thirty at night, I think? Perhaps two already?" Robin frowned at him, in confusion about the sudden question and abrupt change in his demeanor. "Why? Is something wrong? I mean, I know I probably shouldn't be here at this time of night and all that, but-..."

"Then it is your birthday already…" The edge was gone from his tone immediately, leaving only a quiet statement with a tinge of sadness.

"Yeah, it is. What's wrong with that?" She asked in return, her expression a mirror of his own right until he got up from the couch and made for the other side of the room without a word. Robin's heart squeezed together for a second, then she jumped up as well, out of sheer nervousness, but stayed standing between the sofa and the fireplace, feeling lost as her eyes followed him through the room. Had she done something wrong? Or said the wrong thing, perhaps?

Snape merely picked what looked like a piece of paper out of a stack of documents on his desk, then returned to Robin without any ado. Her eyes didn't leave him once, but only met his at last when he stood in front of her again. All the small tells of emotion on his face showed guilt, a hint of annoyance perhaps, both directed entirely at himself as it seemed.

"I tend to forget about time and such trifles when I am in your company. I apologise for the delay." He said after a few seconds, then held out the paper to Robin, an envelope that once again had his own name written on it. "Happy birthday, Robin."

The nervousness that had churned her guts seconds before was replaced by a soaring wave of warm adoration with a start, at both his words and the fact that all he had been upset about was forgetting to congratulate her. If he wanted it true or not, that was incredibly sweet. In Robin's eyes at least. With a smile she yet again had to tone down a little, she took the envelope from him, but instead of opening it right away, she merely held his gaze.

"Thank you. And don't worry, time is entirely irrelevant to me; I am happy that you remembered at all." She said sincerely, still in a fight with herself to not reveal too much of her own adoration. "If it wasn't for the entire 'celebrating into the day' thing, I probably would've only remembered that it's my birthday tomorrow morning."

"You will have to tell me more about what your roommates have put you through, but first I would like you to open that envelope. I meant to give it to you at the end of the day, but seeing as you are here right now, the beginning of the day will be just fine as well."

"Alright…" Robin said, and she couldn't help her curiosity for much longer anyway. Thus she turned the letter in her hands, inspecting the already broken seal with a smile, a frown and a huff. "The letter is from the ministry…"

"Obviously."

She rolled her eyes with a smile, but then finally tugged out the two sheets of paper from the envelope, and unfolded the first. For a minute, she read over the letter that was indeed addressed to Snape, and almost as expected, she didn't understand a word of it. It was signed with a name she had never heard before, but the subtitle said that he was representing the department of admissions. A title as generic as the name itself. Other than that, the letter mainly stated that Snape's request had been accepted and processed thanks to the aforementioned reasons (which unfortunately weren't stated, but surely would've given Robin a hint about what this entire thing was about), and that the ministry would keep an eye on the issue nonetheless. After reading it twice and being left no wiser, Robin took a look at the second page.

To her great surprise, this one had her own name on it, and it looked a lot more like the official document she had received from the ministry after successfully completing the apparition class last term. Her frown deepened as she scanned every word and number on the form that looked more like a license almost, if the standardised look of it was anything to go by… it certainly would explain why the letter came from the department of admissions. But other than her name, a few numbers and the current date, the twentieth, she didn't get too much information from it either. Entirely confused now, she looked back up at Snape who had carefully observed her while she had been reading.

"I would love to tell you I'm happy about the gift, but I have absolutely no idea what any of this is about. I don't even know if it's a gift or a warning or a death sentence." She started with a helpless chuckle, sounding almost as lost as she felt. "Perhaps we could skip the part where you roll your eyes and make me guess for once, for the sake or my birthday. Please?"

"It's not precisely a gift in common terms." He explained, and thereby complied with her request without mention. Robin didn't fail to notice though how mildly uncomfortable he looked, and she wondered if it was about the subject itself, or the mere fact that he was finally admitting to giving her something like a gift at least. "It is a solution to a problem you have. Or rather one that you had, until now."

"Who's the one building suspense now?" Robin smirked at him, to which he merely let out a huff that was supposed to cover up his own not-smirk. It didn't work, and he probably knew, so he went on to explain.

"I do realise that I had no right to solve this problem for you, and I also know that you never made a problem of it in the first place." He said, which made matters no less mysterious at all. "But I know that it has been burdening you for a while now, and I had to put an end to it. Try to, at least. So what I did was to write to the ministry and request for you to be given a certain and admittedly quite rare professional authorisation that allows you to handle certain substances that are subject to permission."

"I… which… what?"

"Perhaps we should approach the matter from a different perspective that is less… political. You obviously are aware that the objects we have gathered over the summer, the subjects of the theories in your handbook, all share one essential attribute: they are rare, some even extremely rare, and therefore very valuable. Yes?"

"Yes."

"And you see how that correlates to the horrendously high prices one has to pay for them in any shop that sells ingredients for potions."

"...yes?"

"Now, the reason why these objects are more often sold on the black market than in any reputable establishment is quite simple. The vast majority of rare objects and ingredients, and thereby almost all of the ones in your handbook, are subject to permission, which means that without a permit from the ministry, you aren't allowed to sell them. This leads to the problem that most shops are generally short of these ingredients, seeing as the ministry rarely gives out such a permit, which in return makes the ingredients even more expensive. These issues can be evaded by selling on the black market, which however almost always results in selling under value to sell at all."

"I understand. But why doesn't the ministry want to give more people such a permit? Wouldn't that make things a lot easier?" Robin frowned, and she felt like the biggest idiot ever, with a large knot in her brain. She knew she was missing something very obvious, but she just couldn't tell what it was.

"Imagine what would happen if every idiot was going after these ingredients for the mere sake of selling them. Not only would most of them die before they even reach their goal, but there would be thousands of people roaming through both worlds and destroying everything in their wake for the mere sake of making money off these objects. The ministry can't risk that, and therefore they are very selective about those who they grant this permit to. They wouldn't give it to me when I tried a few years ago." Snape said, then motioned to the papers still clutched in Robin's hands. "But they gave it to you. People have known your name ever since the first conference you attended; important people who have enough influence to see to it that my request was accepted."

"But… what… I…" Her brain was completely out of it for a moment, until she gave herself a mental slap. "I only research rare ingredients because I love doing it, and I gather them for you and me to work with… But I've never thought about selling them before."

"I know. Your passion for the work we do, the work you do, will always be your highest priority, but that doesn't contradict selling what you don't need for yourself." He stated, then sighed while the subtle discomfort returned to his expression. "Even a mere handful of the wraiths' moss from last year's excursion would suffice to make a small fortune. I know you have been concerned about how to make a living without your parents' support for a while now. This is the solution. A possible one, at least."

For a moment then, the weirdest thing happened; Robin's mind was entirely blank. A mere white noise of too much to process, too many thoughts tumbling over one another while each was too briefly existent to be grasped. So she just stood there, papers still clutched in her hands, and stared at Snape with wide eyes and parted lips. Frozen in space and time.

"Breathe." He reminded her then, with an expression so uncertain it seemed almost uncharacteristic, and Robin did breathe indeed. Once, twice, thrice… then her mind exploded into a colourful variety of emotions, and she finally snapped out of her freeze only to throw her arms around Snape an instant later, hugging him as tightly as if her life depended on it. If he wanted it or not. He didn't have a say in this, not right now.

"Thank you…" Robin breathed as soon as she wasn't entirely choked up anymore, and she couldn't even bring herself to care that the tears that were running down her cheeks now were drenching his linen shirt. "Thank you thank you thank you."

His arms wound around her in return almost instinctively, pulling her closer and keeping her steady as she stood on her tiptoes. But when he spoke up, his voice was quiet, sad almost. "What did I do wrong this time?"

"What? You did nothing wrong!"

"But you are crying, which usually is a direct result of whatever matter I have screwed up this time."

"I'm happy, you dunderhead!" Robin couldn't help laughing through her tears, and her arms around him tightened even more. He really was no better at closer human interactions than she was, and it was relieving to see sometimes. "Happy, and overwhelmed. Positively! This is so much more than just a birthday present to me… You really did save my butt yet again."

"Nonsense… I did nothing more than to write a letter to the right person, asking the right questions. It hardly is a gift at all. I didn't even have to pay for it." He replied in tangible defensiveness to being thanked, but Robin wouldn't let him get away with it this time.

"Didn't you tell me two or three years ago that caring for someone extends beyond the material?" She asked while the tears slowly dried out, leaving her voice muffled by his shoulder rather than emotion, and finally the overwhelmed feeling made way for sheer happiness. "This is the best possible example of it. It might only look like a piece of paper, but it's so much more to me. It shows that you know me, know me so well that you don't even have to ask to know what's on my mind. It means that you willingly dealt with people you despise, because I know just how much you hate ministry officials, and writing to them in a nice enough way to get them to do something for you can't have been easy. And foremost, the fact that you didn't just give me a gift, but actually thought of a bloody brilliant solution to an incredibly important problem for me tells me just how much you actually care. If you want to admit it or not."

"You haven't the slightest idea just how much I actually care." He replied under his breath, and it sent a deep shiver through Robin, one which obviously was noticeable enough for him to follow it up by lightly tracing up and down her spine with his fingers. Bloody hell, she could've died right on the spot from the sheer emotional intensity of this alone.

"You're getting better at showing me." She finally made herself reply, in a voice way too breathy to be anywhere near appropriate, but it didn't matter in that moment. Not when her mind had enough trouble keeping her from doing something incredibly stupid.

"May I ask you something you might find rather odd?" He spoke up a few seconds later, and his hand stilled on her back, splayed out so that his fingertips brushed her sides.

"Don't you always?" Robin chuckled softly. "You can ask and say anything at all, you know that. Odd isn't a thing between us anymore." The question he did ask then, however, she had not seen coming at all.

______________________________

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[sepublic]

Covention Revelations!

Okay, so the biggest thing that sticks out to me is that Witches are essentially encouraged, if not outright required by society to join a coven. A coven is essentially a ‘club’ where you gain membership and a sense of belonging, but in return you get restricted to only a particular type of magic and have to specialize in it.

(Jeez, now Willow’s predicament in her debut is worse knowing that once she reaches a certain age, she’d have no longer been able to perform plant magic. Thank goodness for Luz!)

These rules are enforced by the Emperor, who has his own personal coven of witches that can use all forms of magic, but just so happen to report directly to him. What a surprise...

From a world-building perspective, I can see why this is a rule. If everyone had access to every form of magic... Well, I could see certain people viewing that as chaotic and a society impossible to control. And anyone with the title of Emperor presumably is used to having a LOT of power and authority over people’s lives. It certainly re-contextualizes what Eda (or should I say, Edaline... Edalyn?) had to say about her disdain of magic school. How schools teach you to do it a ‘proper’ way, but in her eye it’s wild, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It’s literally a system that -maybe even permanently- dictates exactly what you can do with magic. 

If I had to compare it to another show, it’s like Homeworld from Steven Universe. Everybody has to have a set role, because every society has specific requirements (some more important than others... sorry Tiny Cat Coven). Everyone having access to every form of magic is chaotic and hard to control. Ergo, establish a school system that encourages people to focus on a particular subset of magic, the one they happen to be the best at, and then have that witch focus on that single role for the rest of their lives. That way, everyone who’s doing a certain job in society happens to be the best one most suited towards it.

(At least ideally- Willow was pressured to be in the Abomination track despite her skill with plant magic. Luckily, Principal Bump recognized her talent, but it makes me wonder if there are ever shortages of witches for certain covens? Could this lead to pressure from parents to want their children to seize an open opportunity for an established role in society?)

Also, I like Lilith (Yes it’s one L, I checked the end credits)! Yeah, she’s mean, but she’s not heartless, and her and Eda’s conflict is like Stan and Ford’s, namely one is a troublemaker who’s unorthodox while the other is very proper and all about being the best at something. They’re at odds, but not to an extreme degree- They’ll squabble and get in trouble with one another but they don’t seem to seriously want the other one hurt. 

There are many moments where Lilith is genuinely excited to invite Eda to the Emperor’s Coven, and her stopping her attack for Eda’s curse shows a bit. And despite being required to arrest Eda, she never once makes any moves to do so- She even goes against this mission by removing the Wanted Posters for the sake of the duel. And not once in said duels does she ever dictate a term of having Eda turn herself in. We know at the end that Lilith is tasked with arresting Eda... but in all seriousness, for whatever antagonism the two siblings have with one another, it seems that Lilith is low-key complicit in Eda’s continued escapes from the law.

Also worth noting;

-Willow and Gus! I didn’t expect to see them here but I love it! Also Gus is confirmed to specialize in illusions!

-That pen given to King by the... Scrying Coven, was it? It was a Coven involved with telling the future... We didn’t see it do anything. While it could just be a joke that she SAYS it’ll do something but she’s just lying and trying to dump merch onto him, it does make me wonder...

-We see the Abomination Teacher at the coliseum, as well as the Snaggleback! The teacher is missing his abomination and the Snaggleback either got back his shell or grew a new one, I can’t tell which.

-Amity Blight! I’m sure others saw it coming as well, but it’s neat to see that she’s a person who’s clearly very concerned about proving one’s worth, and while that means she can use her hard work and progress as a justification for looking down on others, it’s not a double standard either. If she fails, then as far as Amity is concerned, she deserved to fail. I wonder if she wants to be in the Emperor’s Coven so she can practice all magic, or simply because it’s for the best- Maybe both. Either way I liked that neat foreshadowing of Amity being surprised at her Abomination’s size in the duel, hinting at Lilith adding the power amplifier.

-Also, I love how Eda and Lilith at first look like they may have a serious feud... But then quickly it just dissolves into petty, immature jabs and it’s clear that their antagonism isn’t legitimately serious. At least, not for now- Pressure by the emperor may cause Lilith to act more seriously, perhaps.

-I still can’t tell if King is lying or not about the whole ‘King of Demons’ backstory. It was part of his official description but now it seems like it’s just a fanciful lie he likes to make up? It’d be hilarious if later on it’s revealed that, yes, he really WAS the King of Demons and everyone is surprised because they thought he was making that up. Or maybe only Luz is surprise, who knows? Top-tier, late-game casual reveal would be King mentioning he was once called Bill Cipher.

-DANA GOING SUPER SAIYAN

-I know just yesterday I was gushing about Willuz, but honestly Luzity has gained its canon appeal. I love how Luz, after seeing how upset Amity was, didn’t just ignore her predicament but actively went out of her way to make sure she was okay. It was sweet to see Luz acknowledge that, yeah, she didn’t mean to embarrass Amity back in Episode 3 and felt bad about it (as I speculated earlier). Obviously neither party is at fault here, no one really is... But I love to see Luz’s compassionate nature resonate from her looking at things from other points of view. And seeing Amity willing to give Luz some pointers on Magic was just so sweet...

-Small and obvious joke, but Luz invoking Azura’s challenge to Hecate happening at the Bog of “Immediate Regret” was too funny to me.

-I love how they’re now lampshading Eda’s mysterious past and she’s just all for it. Teasing Luz about it. In general I just love Eda’s troll-ish nature. When she brought up her curse at the end of the duel I wasn’t sure at first if she was being genuine or just faking out Lilith. I love her.

[xmagicxshopx]

The Magicians - Chapter 1

BTS Fanfic Series

Genre: Fantasy Adventure with a hint of Romance, some Comedy in there too Rating: PG-13 Warnings: None at the moment Pairing: OT7 x reader (but will eventually become Jungkook x reader) Notes: magicians!bts au. They are not the idols we all know and love. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: This is raw, not proofread content you’re reading. My eyes are shot so I’ll proofread it once my eyes don’t feel like they’re going to burst out of their sockets. XD

SERIES MASTERLIST

Aimless. Pointless. You were walking around aimlessly with no particular point of direction in mind. A crossroads of sorts. That’s where you found yourself in this very moment. Both literally and figuratively. One path would lead you back to your apartment. Back to your normal, boring life. A boring nine to five job that barely paid the bills and gave you enough food to eat. Not really anyone you could call a friend. And your family? Well.....yeah. That’s another story for another day.

Purpose. You lacked purpose in your life. There was nothing exciting going on in your life but you knew deep down that was at least partly your own fault. Closing yourself off from others. Never opening your heart for fear of getting hurt. But closing yourself off......what was the point of existing if you weren’t going to live your life? It was all much too deep for you and every time you tried to think about it, it just made your mood worse.

“What’s the point? No one’s waiting at home for me anyway.”

And so you took the opposite path. The path that would lead you farther away from the only place you could remotely call home. Wasn’t like there was much there to miss. You lived on the shadier part of town anyhow. There wasn’t even much in your apartment worth stealing. Nothing you were going to miss, anyhow.

Pulling your thin jacket tighter around yourself, you noticed something up ahead. A building. And.....it was on fire??? Fight or Flight mode tried to kick in but your feet were figuratively frozen to the ground. Muscles tensed in panic and stress but never once made a move to carry your body away from the heated mess. There was a small voice in the back of your head telling you to......go inside? To check it out?

‘There could be someone in there. They could be in trouble.’

Well that certainly weighed on your conscience. Finding your ability to breathe, you took a deep breath and started running towards the burning building. What did you have to lose, right? It wasn’t like you had anyone to miss you. By the time you made it to what appeared to be the back of the building, you were already huffing and puffing. Exercise. Maybe you could take up exercising as a hobby? Yeah. Right. Funny.

Anyhow, it was hard to catch your breath properly thanks to all the smoke that was billowing out of the doors. One door had been flung nearly clean off its hinges as it was hanging by a thread. Meanwhile, there was another entrance where the door had apparently disappeared completely. Next to it there was a poster board sign that had THIS WAY written on it along with an arrow directing to the door itself. Well now......

The fire looked pretty bad and while she couldn’t hear any screaming or shouting, that didn’t mean that someone wasn’t in trouble or hurt inside. The real question was, why did she care so much? Why was she putting in all this effort and risking her life for someone who may not even exist? It was as if the building had called out to her; telling her to come and investigate. Weird. Really really weird. With a shrug, you took a careful deep breath and said a bit lazily,

“Well, here goes nothing. It’s been fun.”

Okay. Things just went from weird to weirder. Perhaps you were back in your apartment and just having a really crazy freaky dream and you’d wake up any second now? Nah. Something told you that was just wishful thinking. Instead of flames eating away at your flesh like you anticipated, there was......nothing? Yes. Absolutely nothing.

“What the----”

The flames.....they were just......gone. Had you not seen the damage the building was taking outside only seconds ago, you would have never known there was anything wrong with the place. Sure it looked and smelled dusty and musty but still. There wasn’t a trace of heat coming from any corner of the room. Speaking of room.....the place was kind of creepy.

‘Come forward, my child and claim what you so desperately seek.’

A small sound that....well you weren’t quite sure if you had uttered a squeak, squeal, or yelp. Heck, maybe it was a mixture of the three. Whatever sound it was, you nearly choked on it as you stumbled back a bit. Was that a voice inside your head? It certainly wasn’t your voice. And then you saw it. Or what you thought might be an it. Could have been a him or a her, you supposed.

Masked and menacing looking, sat a figure in what looked like some kind of....ticket booth? Okay. This had to be a dream. A really vivid and realistic appearing dream. And any second now, you were going to wake up and everything would be normal and boring again.....Right?

‘Did I stutter, child? Come forward.’

As if your body had a mind of it’s own, your feet started to shuffle forward towards the ticket booth. What on earth were you doing? This had trouble written all over it. But then again.....you were okay with dying and risking your life for someone only seconds ago, right? So why were you suddenly so scared to approach this masked weirdo? Squaring your shoulders a bit, you walked on your own this time and at a much more confident stride.

‘That’s a good girl. Here. Have this. It’s what you’ve been seeking after all these months. Your biggest wish has been granted. Congratulations.’

What the? Wish? What wish could you possibly have that he would be talking about? Yes, from what you could hear of the masked figure’s voice, it sounded male. By this point, you were standing in front of the ticket booth with your hand subconsciously stretched out and dragging the item closer towards you.

Wow. It was an actual ticket. Inspecting the piece of paper, you could see some strange writing on it. Looked harmless enough. But there was something odd about it. This wasn’t a ticket to any particular form of transportation or location. In fact, the location didn’t even register in your memory and you knew most of the city pretty well.

“The Magic Shop? Where’s that at? The other side of tow---nnn--? Huh???”

And just like that, the ticket booth had vanished before your very eyes. You had looked up from the ticket and everything was gone. The room stayed the same but there was absolutely no trace of a booth or a masked figure. Okay. Things were going from weird to downright creepy at this point. You needed to get the hell out of here and fast. Especially if this was not a dream which you were still feebly wishing it was.

Turning around so fast that the room spun, you started making a mad dash for what you had figured was the door you came through. However, all you were met with was.....nothing. Pitch black nothingness. No doorway, let alone no door. Just.....nothing. Great. You were trapped here.

“Okay. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I’m going to wake up any second now and it’ll be fine.”

Just then, you could hear laughter. But not the warm, comforting kind of laughter. No. This was that classic sinister laugh that made the hairs on your neck stand up. Wonderful. Great. Fantastic. Just peachy.

‘Be careful what you wish for, child.’

And so there you were. Stuck in a room---a building with no way out and a creepy masked figure’s laughter fading into the darkest corners of said room. What the hell were you supposed to do now? If this wasn’t a dream......and you didn’t have anything to drink while being out......then something extremely weird was going on here. Something.....other worldly.

And that was when you felt a blow to the back of your head and your whole other worldly world went black.

Ouch. That was gonna hurt later.

Silence. That’s what you woke up to as you slowly regained use of your senses. Sense of smell, your sight and your hearing. Granted it was quite bright wherever the hell you were. Wait.....wherever you were........Whoa!

“Easy there. We don’t want you falling over and hitting your head again.”

“Says the guy who nearly cracked her skull open mere hours ago.”

“I didn’t hit her that hard, hyung. Besides. Look at her. She’s right as rain now. Right, gorgeous?”

Insane. You had to be. That’s what it was. Your life had become so bland and boring that you had officially gone insane and this was all just a figment of your imagination to make things interesting. Right? That had to be it. There was no way in Hades this could all be real. Not even close.

However, as your eyes adjusted to the bright, natural light of the room, which you happened to notice was quite different from the dark and musty room you found yourself in earlier, you noticed.....one, two, three, four.......seven??? Seven masked figures were standing in front of you?! Your heart sunk.

“There’s more than one of you!?!? Oh my god! Please! Just kill me! I can’t take this strange dream any more!”

“Hey, whoa whoa. Slow down there, babe. No need to be such a drama queen.”

This made your blood boil. Perhaps you really had lost it. Maybe you weren’t getting good night’s sleep. Well you knew that much. But perhaps it was really starting to get to you. The stresses of life having slowly picked away at you and now here you were, finally cracking under all that pressure. Letting out a bark of laughter, you looked up at the masked figures and bit back in bubbling frustration,

“Drama queen? I’ll show you drama queen. Do you have any idea what my last 24 hours have been like? All I wanted to do was try and save someone from a burning building and now I’m sitting here tied to a freaking cha----Huh???”

Looking down at yourself, you weren’t completely wrong. Yes. You were indeed tied to a chair but......where were the ropes? Or chains? Something? Anything? It was as if you were tied with something.....invisible? Good lord. Was the weirdness ever going to end?

“Jimin, would you like to do the honors?”

“Certainly, hyung.”

This was it, they were finally going to put you out of your misery. One of the masked figures lifted what appeared to be an umbrella. What? What’s with the umbrella? Was he going to stab you to death with it or something? Not exactly the way you pictured dying but you supposed it was better than nothing. Maybe he’d just beat you to death instead.

However, none of that came to pass. There was no stabbing or beating. Instead, you watched the masked figure named Jimin lifting his umbrella and pointing the tip directly at you. Before you knew it, those invisible bounds were falling off of you like actual invisible ropes. What???

“Allow us to introduce ourselves.”

As you sat there feeling almost numb with confusion along with a pounding headache, the seven masked figures slowly removed said masks and.....wow. That wasn’t what you had expected. Not at all. Dang. You could practically hear your own slow whistle in your head.

Seven men stood in front of you. Every single one of them young and freakishly attractive. Had they been sculptured by the gods or something? You honestly had expected them all to look like some kind of creepy looking goblins or perhaps the spawn of the devil himself. But definitely had you never envisioned they’d look so......wow.

“We are Bangtan. The Bangtan Boys. Otherwise known as Bulletproof Boy Scouts. My name is RM.”

“I’m Jhope! Nice to meet you!”

“My name is Jin and I’m the most handsome one here. Just to let you know.”

Some of the males rolled their eyes and if the situation hadn’t been so freaky and weird, you honestly would have laughed at his antics.

“Hmm. Name’s Suga.”

“Oh hyung don’t be such a sourpuss. Hi! My name’s Jimin. Sorry we had to knock you out. I told V not to hit so hard but he didn’t listen.”

“Yah! I was protecting us from witchcraft! You should be thanking me!”

“Oh now look who’s being the drama queen.”

“Guys guys. Just finish introducing yourselves.”

The two males known as Jimin and who you were guessing must have been V, both looked over at the taller male who if you recalled right, was named RM. Both sporting pouts, they nodded and said at the same time,

“Yes, hyung.”

“Anyway, the name’s V. Sorry I had to hit you with a frying pan but I had to make sure you weren’t a witch out to get us or something.”

“A frying pan?! You hit me over the head with a frying pan?! Couldn’t you have picked something a little less----violent!?!?”

“Yah yah. Calm down. We’ll take a look at the damage here in a minute. But we still have one more of us to introduce. Jungkookie?”

The male you had come to remember as Jimin face palmed at the young male next to him while V motioned for the male on the other side of him. Wow....he was kind of.....cute. Unsure eyes stared back at you and you found yourself blushing a little.

“My name is Jungkook. As V had mentioned.”

Jimin rolled his eyes and stared up at the ceiling as if asking why was he stuck with someone as blonde as V. Which that was exactly what he was doing. You would have laughed had it not been for the sudden pounding in your head. The pain taking you by surprise, the whimper slipped past your chapped lips before you could swallow it.

And just like that, the seven young men were all over you; fussing like seven mother hens. You were pretty sure Jimin was the one pulling back and apart your hair to try and inspect the damage while V was desperately trying to defend himself and his actions.

The one you were pretty sure was named Jhope dragged Suga with him; mumbling frantically about finding a wash bin along with a wash cloth. You could have sworn you heard the grumpy shorter male grumble something about......conjuring it up themselves? Huh? Whatever. Must have been from the headache you were struggling to deal with. Must be making you hear things.

Meanwhile, Jin (at least you were pretty sure it was Jin) told the male who you knew to be RM that he was going to be in the kitchen making dinner. Was it really dinner time? Huh. Apparently you had lost all sense of time while being stuck in this weird, crazy, creepy place.

It was then that you felt a hand take yours and you nearly jumped out of your seat. The jerk reaction caused the crown of your head to bump into Jimin’s gentle hands and you both made a sound of surprise. Blinking, you realized it had been RM who took one of your hands in his. After flashing you a warm and what he had hoped was a soothing, reassuring smile, he turned to the last male who had yet to make a move and said softly,

“Jungkook, you have the most accommodating space between all of us, the place seems to like you most, go make up a spot for the young lady here to lay down and rest will you.”

Silently nodding, the young male known as Jungkook spared you one last glance with those soft but hollow eyes of uncertainty and made his way for what you could only conclude must have been his room. After careful inspection by Jimin and V, they had determined that you would be fine and didn’t need stitches. Well at least you had that going for you.

Meanwhile, Jhope was treating you with extra care as he used a warm wet wash cloth to help get rid of the caked blood that had coated some of your hair around the crown of your head. To which V felt the need to vigorously defend himself again; claiming that it wasn’t a lot of blood. You were actually starting to find his desperate attempts to defend himself pretty comical.

“The spot is ready for her, hyung.”

“Excellent, Jungkook. How about you help her to your room, eh?”

“But wait----I have so many questions. What is this place? Why are there no doors to get out? And who are all of you? Why are we here? I don’t understand----”

Soft shushing reached your ears as the tanned male took your hand once again; offering you that same soft and warm reassuring smile.

“I know you have a lot of questions. Heck, we have questions ourselves. But now isn’t the time for that. Despite V’s heart being in the right place, you took a pretty nasty blow to the head. You were out for quite a while. Jin’s cooking dinner. How about you take a nap and when dinner is ready, we can all sit down and ask our questions and see what kind of answers we can get, okay? Jungkook, if you would, please.”

And before you could protest, you were being lifted out of the chair to stand on your own two feet and being passed off onto the young male known as Jungkook. His hand was a little calloused but otherwise gentle as he took your hand in his and started leading the way to where you guessed must have been his room. So it seems like they all have their own room. Were there no more rooms available for them to just dump you in? Why did you have to sleep in a male’s room? More specifically, a male who was a complete stranger to you.

“In here, please.”

You were taken out of your thoughts at Jungkook’s soft voice asking you to step inside first while he held the door open for you. After giving a soft, shy thanks, you stepped inside and was surprised with how roomy it really was. It was almost like a whole apartment. You could see what looked like a connecting bathroom suite and a king sized bed. There was a lounge area with a couple couches and an arm chair. It was nice. Cozy, even.

Stepping in with you, the male made his way casually over to the beanbag chair that he had placed near the foot of the bed and picked up the book that was resting in said chair. After making himself comfortable in the bean filled piece of furniture with book in hand, he glanced up at you as you remained rooted in place near the doorway.

“Well?”

“Um......huh?”

“Wow. V hyung must have really did a number on you. Do you need help getting into bed?”

Flustered. That’s exactly what you had become. Flustered. Feeling the heat rush to your face, you quickly shook your head which of course only made your pounding head ache worse. Your heart was trying to beat in your throat as you watched him raise a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow in curiosity. Finally finding your voice, or what was left of it, you managed to reply weakly,

“A-Ani. I can get in the bed just fine. I guess the headache is making it a bit hard to think straight.”

“He probably gave you a concussion. The pabo. V hyung never really has known his own strength.”

By this time, you had manged to close the distance between yourself and the bed. This was his bed. He had been laying in it and now he was just going to.....give it to you? Glancing over at him, you noticed he had since then put his full attention on the book he was reading; looking perfectly comfortable in the beanbag chair.

“The pills on the nightstand are for you. They’re just normal painkillers. Figured it would help with your headache. I wasn’t sure if you were a water or milk drinker, so I got you a glass of each. I have juice if you’d prefer something sweeter.”

Gosh you were grateful that he had his back to you at the foot of the bed. You were blushing like crazy. But why? He was just being....nice. Right? After stuttering out a soft thanks, you took the glass of water and the two small pills and popped them into your mouth. Swallowing them both in one go, you carefully set the glass of water back down on the night stand and tried to lay down to get comfortable.

It was probably no more than 10 minutes but to you it felt like 20 or even 25 minutes. You just couldn’t sleep. And who could blame you? The last 24 hours had been quite the adventure. Especially since you could now determine that this wasn’t some crazy dream. Your head was spinning with questions and flashbacks of the creepy masked figure. With a heavy sigh, you mumbled shyly in defeat,

“Jungkook?”

“Hmm?”

“Could.......Could you read to me what you’re reading?”

He had been in the middle of turning a page when he suddenly paused like a statue. What felt like several minutes passing of nothing but silence, he finally turned the page and glanced over his shoulder at you; looking quite perplexed.

“You mean like......tell you a bedtime story?”

“Yah. Don’t make me sound like a big baby.”

Letting out a soft snort of amusement, the male smiled and stood up from his seat. You couldn’t help but notice his smile. He looked like a happy bunny rabbit whenever he smiled. Again, he was cute. It made you blush as you tried to fight off this weird sensation of giddiness. Perhaps you really were losing it. Watching him walk over to sit down on the edge of the bed, he rose one of those perfectly shaped eyebrows in a challenge as he asked you as much,

“What if you don’t like what I’m reading?”

“I’ll gladly take a cookbook if that’s what you’ve got.”

With another snort and a couple soft chuckles, Jungkook shook his head in amusement and replied casually,

“Ani ani. Not quite as dry as a cookbook. It’s.....well.....It’s actually my journal.”

“Oh---Oh I mean---You don’t have to read it. I’m sure that’s very personal and---”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind reading it to you. It’s basically a log I’ve made of my time here with the hyungs. I often look back on it for self reflecting purposes.”

Wow. Sounds like he’s been here awhile. You wondered just how long these boys have been stuck in this godforsaken place. And here you were complaining and whining about a mere 24 hours. Heck, probably not even that long. Timidly getting more comfortable, you courageously patted the empty space next to you and spoke shyly in a small voice,

“There’s plenty of room for the both of us if you wanted to lay down too.”

“I prefer reading sitting up. But I suppose I could at least sit next to you. You don’t have cooties or anything, right?”

“Yah, pabo. Shut up and read.”

After the both of your laughter mingled a little, you got settled in deeper into the covers while he himself carefully climbed up onto the bed and in a sitting upright position with his back against the headboard. After clearing his throat a little, you noticed he was starting from the very beginning of the book.

“June 13th,.....”

Wow......they really had been stuck here for a long time. For years. You couldn’t imagine being stuck in this creepy place for so long. And yet here they were. These seven young men trying to live their lives while being stuck in a building with no way out. How had they managed to survive for so long and not lost their sanity? Or even their humanity? Jhope had seemed really nice. Like a ray of sunshine. And Jimin and V were pretty funny when put together in the same room. RM, he had been so kind and gentle with you.

“I searched and searched and searched but couldn’t find a single door. I felt myself going mad. Insane. There had to be a way out. There just had to be, I told myself.”

If you had learned anything from this crazy day, it was that you liked Jungkook’s voice. He made a great storyteller. In fact, it was the very sound of his voice that finally helped lull you to sleep; your pounding headache having dulled tremendously with the help of the painkillers he gave you.

Maybe being stuck here wasn’t so bad after all.

You could learn to make the most of it.

[justheretobreakthings]

The Heat Was Hot and the Ground Was Dry - Chapter 1 (Horse With No Name)

Written for @desertkeithweek - Day 1 (Next Chapter) Read on AO3

The shack wasn’t exactly much of a home. When Keith had first opened the door to shack, he had behind greeted by a flood of dank heat humidity from the shack having sat idle for so long, baking in the desert heat, and the rattling air conditioning unit was taking its time getting it back to livable temperatures. The place has been dusty as well, and sandy. The windows and doorways were supposed to be pretty much air-tight to keep the dust and dirt out, but it seemed that a good bit had managed to seep in through whatever cracks it could find during the interim years since Keith had last been there. The place was almost bare of furnishings, and the few posters that functioned as personal touches on the drywall were so faded he could no longer tell from looking at the what they were originally supposed to depict.

To be fair, it wasn’t supposed to be a home. It was supposed to be a workshop-slash-storage area. His dad had cleared out a good portion of the shack to store shelves and boxes of books and papers and haphazardly stack monitors and equipment from that repurposed electronics store the next county over. For work, his dad had told him, for a project. Keith had no idea what the work had been, and hadn’t been particularly interested, not back when he was a kid.

The rest of the shack was used to pile high the sort of things that probably would have gone into a garage or shed if the house had had one and had started gathering dust from disuse even when Keith’s dad was still around. Hardware and tools, spare parts for the hoverbike, outdated electronics that his dad was sure he could still recycle into something useful someday; the shack was insulated well enough that they wouldn’t get warped beyond usability in the heat. And a stock of food, non-perishables in tightly sealed tins.

When he’d asked his dad what those were for, he’d simply replied, “Just in case.” Keith had left it at that. He idly wondered now if the “just in case” had included, “Just in case you get kicked out of school and have nowhere or no one to go to, and you’re feeling a little peckish.”

The house proper used to have some of these tins in the pantry as well, but those were long gone now. Them along with the house itself. Arson, the police had said. Culprit: person or persons unknown. It was a shitty answer, but it was the only one they would offer Keith.

The only furniture in the shack was a couch, the kind with a stiff metal frame and flat cushions that you would find in an office or a waiting room. It was far from an ideal bed, but Keith supposed it would have to do.

It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go.

He was relieved when he flicked the light switch to the shack to see that the power was still working here. The little solar unit outside that was source of electricity for the shack had been practically obsolete even when his dad had first installed it, and Keith hadn’t been certain it would have held itself together all this time. He would have to test and see if he could use several of the outlets at once without it overcharging, but he was optimistic. In this desert sun, the panels had plenty to power them. Thank you, Arizona.

The first thing Keith did after starting up the air conditioning was decide he ought to get started on cleaning. The dust and sand had to go first. He located a push broom in one of the storage piles, right in the back corner, its handled propping up an old AM/FM radio that was balanced on a sagging cardboard box.

On a whim, he decided to grab the radio as well. Might as well; there wasn’t exactly much by way of entertainment here. He hadn’t really given much thought to how he was going to occupy his time out in the desert – he had been a lot more focused on just finding somewhere to go and hoping that the state would let him slip through the cracks again enough that they wouldn’t notice he still had months to go before he legally aged out of the foster system. He would much rather spend the rest of his life in a run-down one-room shack than another few months in one of those group homes.

The sound from the radio speakers crackled a bit, but otherwise came out fine. It took him some time exploring the dials to find a station to listen to, though. Most of the frequencies were just white noise. AM and FM radio stations weren’t nearly as common as they used to be, and probably would be gone entirely if enough radio enthusiasts weren’t still around to cling to them for the sake of nostalgia.

There were a couple of news and talk radio stations that he passed over immediately. He knew exactly what was going to be on them – the only thing that the local news had been talking about for days: the Kerberos mission. The Kerberos Tragedy, some of the media outlets were calling it. And Keith was sick of hearing about it.

The first music station he found was a country station, and Keith would rather have dug his eardrums out with a screwdriver than listened to that.

He finally settled on a station that was halfway through playing “Smoke on the Water” when he turned to it. Classic rock, he figured, confirmed when the song faded out and “Edge of Seventeen” started up in its wake. Wasn’t his favorite genre, but he didn’t dislike it either. He could probably acquire a taste for it.

He let the station play as he swept and dusted, pausing to cough when he kicked out a particularly bad cloud of the dust or dirt. There was no dusting spray he could find, and no mop. Sometime he would have to make a trip out to town to pick up what supplies weren’t already in the shack, but it could wait.

Once he decided he had sufficiently cleared off the surfaces of the shack’s interior, he went outside to get a drink. He had to crank the slightly rusting pump several times before it started gurgling up water from the artesian well below the ground – he didn’t know if the shack was just too far away from town to use the reservoir or if it had just been more convenient not to have to worry about water bills, but as a kid he’d gotten by just fine solely on well-water. He took a drink from the spigot and then ducked his head under the water flow, sighing at the relief of the cool water after the heat of the shack.

He would have to figure out how to get that pump to work for him as a showerhead. There were some pipes in the shack’s storage, and he thought he could probably fathom up some way to fashion a make-shift shower stall if he partitioned off this area around the pump.

That would be a project for tomorrow, though. He shook the dripping water out of his hair and went back inside, ready to get a start on sorting through the piles of junk stored up here and figuring out what he could use and what should be cleared away.

The music was no longer playing when he entered, and instead the two deejays were engaging in some sort of between-song banter. Keith tuned it out as he went about his work.

Or, at least, he tried to, until one particular phrase caught his attention.

“ – petition going around to have statue made for the crew of the Kerberos mission,” one of the deejays was saying.

“A statue,” the other one said. “See, I like that. If I went to outer space and died, I’d want a statue. And I’d want them to build it out of those rocks they brought back from the moon when they sent Apollo up there.”

“You want a statue made of moon rocks,” the first one laughed.

“Well, why not? It ain’t like they’re doin’ anythin’ with them but lettin’ them sit in storage or somethin’.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re using them for, like, science.”

“‘Like, science’, you’re so eloquent.”

“I’m a poet.”

“Sure you are. Listeners, if you call now we’ll send you a poetry anthology by Electric Eddie, only nineteen-ninety-nine.”

“All profits go toward building Bennie Jay a statue out of moon rocks.” The second deejay snorted.

Keith gritted his teeth, but he kept up with his work. They were local deejays, of course they were going to talk about Kerberos. At least they’d be getting back to playing music soon. And at least they weren’t badmouthing Shiro. Keith certainly wasn’t crazy about the fact that they were being so blasé about the event, but he would take that over listening to someone lament over the ‘pilot error’ that had supposedly brought the mission down.

“You know we’re legitimitely going to get someone to start lobbying to make the Kerberos statue out of moon rocks now, and it’ll be your fault,” the first deejay said.

“The Kerberos statue that probably isn’t even happenin’.”

“They won’t care, stuff like this brings the crazies out of the woodwork.”

“Ooh, speakin’ of, I don’t know how much you’ve been following social media the last few days – ”

“Little to none.”

“ – but the conspiracy theories have officially gotten into full swing,” the second deejay continued.

“Oh, well, naturally. So what’s the conspiracy, did the Garrison fake the Kerberos launch?”

“Oh, nah, nah, this time there’s a cover-up. We’ve got a good chunk of people sayin’ that the Garrison was lyin’ about what caused the mission to fail.”

“You don’t say.”

“So, dependin’ on who you ask, either they’re coverin’ up the fact that they built the ship wrong to try and protect their reputation, or they had planned for the mission to fail all along as some sort of tax scheme.”

“A tax scheme.”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell kinda tax scheme would that even be?”

“I dunno, I didn’t come up with that. But hey, you gotta admit, if anyone were gonna figure out a way to do that and cover it up, it’d be the Galaxy Garrison.’

“Oh, yeah, you’re right on that mark. Do they have any research going on that’s not ‘top secret’?”

“Nope, all real hush-hush. They’re the big exclusive secret hideout in outer space.”

“Space CIA.”

“Space CIA, that’s it.”

“So tell me, Bennie, which theory do you subscribe to?”

“Neither, I’ve got my own theory.”

“And what’s that?”

“Just a sec.”

There was a rummaging sound, and after a moment the first deejay asked, “What are you doing?”

“Startin’ up the next song.”

“But you said you – ” He stopped as a piano riff started playing, and then burst out laughing. “Okay, you heard it here first, folks. The Kerberos mission failed due to alien abduction.”

“You owe me ten bucks if I’m right,” the second deejay said.

“Will do. Here’s ‘Come Sail Away’. Enjoy.” He finished right as the singer started up, and the deejays went silent while the song played.

Keith sighed, releasing a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in his shoulders. It seemed maybe he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t satisfied with the ‘pilot error’ explanation the Garrison had given. Sure, he was being marked ‘crazy conspiracy theorist’, but at least he wasn’t alone.

He half-listened to the music as he focused on rearranging the storage piles, catching just a couple of phrases of the lyrics.

“I thought that they were angels, but to my surprise They climbed aboard their starship and headed for the skies.”

Keith had never understood prog rock.

He ended up working well into the night, the sun already set by the time he stood back from the piles of storage which he’d sorted meticulously by function and usefulness. There was more space now that the shack was organized, leaving the area feeling just a little less suffocatingly cramped. And he could take better stock of his inventory now; he figured he had at least a few weeks before he would have to find a way to buy more supplies.

He realized only once he had finished how worn out he was, and he flipped the light and flopped right down onto the couch. He didn’t bother with a blanket. The air conditioning was working, but it still wasn’t cool enough in the shack for him to want to sleep with bedcovers.

It wasn’t until he had settled onto the couch that he realized he had left the radio on, the upbeat rhythm of “Listen to the Music” bouncing off the walls, the only sound in the shack. For a moment he debated getting up to turn it off, but he ultimately decided against it. He was already in his sleeping position, and he wasn’t up to moving it. He opted instead to just fall asleep to the sounds of the radio.

“That was the Doobie Brothers, celebrating the anniversary of the release of their fifth studio album Stampede on this day in music history,” the deejay said – Electric Eddie, Keith was pretty sure this one was. “And we’re gonna keep the soft rock theme going for the next half hour. Here’s America with a transatlantic hit from their debut album – I think you know the one.”

A guitar started strumming, a little slower and softer than the previous song, and Keith closed his eyes and let the crooning voice of the singer act like something of a lullabye. The tune and lyrics went in and out of his head as he faded, but he knew this song, so he didn’t really need to pay attention to catch the words.

“You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name It felt good to be out of the rain In the desert you can remember your name 'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain”

He was asleep before the song ended.

[avani008]

Lots of 10 Sentence GenFic Prompts!

Below the cut, in order: Mama Deva & Amarendra & Sumitra, Mama Baahu & Mahendra, Avantika & Sivvu, and Happiest Universe! Bhalla and his brother’s children--

Always a Different Profession AU

Sumitra is always anxious when she must present her yearly teaching evaluations to the Headmistress—all the more so when she discovers that kind, charming Jayasena just so happens to be her son.

Before the Beginning

She does not pray for pedigree or prosperity or even prestige—but only that her children, orphaned so young, should be happy.

Bodyswap

Baahubali is far too wise to admit that truthfully, he noticed no difference.

Curse

At different times, Baahubali and Sumitra both wonder if it was blessing or curse that slew the Queen of Kuntala before she could see the fate that awaited her children.

Darkest Timeline

The Queen accepts no challenge to her authority, least of from her children’s spouses; but her son and daughter stay stubbornly blind to all her faults, and that can only lead to disaster.

Fall

Their mother-in-law had been faultless; but (she might have said, had she lived to say it) that is not necessarily the same as infallible.

Floriography****

Sage she would send them, if wishing could have any effect ; but she knows without asking that long life is not written in any of their destinies.

Play

A smile plays across the Queen of Kuntala’s face, and her mock sternness towards her daughter’s suitor fades.

Role Reversal

Seeking a suitable alliance for her children while incognito might not be the most usual of methods, but certainly the most effective.

Space

She would not approve of them so for her children if she did not know they love the green spaces of Kuntala as she does

Always a Different Profession AU

Babies are such a bother, but she cannot deny how popular her grandson’s image has been on the party’s campaign posters.

Before the Beginning

As a child, she swears to name a child of her line after her father; not out of love, but to prove to him that a man—no, a King!—can be raised without his heartlessness .

Bodyswap

He has never before known before just how many aches and pains Grandmother has; sadly, Mahendra swears to be kinder to her.

Curse

Perhaps it is a mercy that she never knew him, in this house where all mothers’ (and grandmothers’) love withers and dies.

Darkest Timeline

Mahendra goes north in his grandmother’s arms to escape his uncle’s malice; and she wonders wearily if what they will find there can even be considered worth living for.

Fall

“Shush,” comforts his grandmother the seven night in a row he wakes from the same terrible nightmare, and stays with him until he falls asleep again.

Floriography

She would be forever surrounded by saffron and marigolds, if her grandson did not race into her chambers, strewing pine needles and snowdrops in his wake.

Play

Mahendra knows better than to admit that his younger grandmother is better at games than any other member of his family; it would only hurt everyone else’s feelings and besides—he likes the thought of it being a secret that they share.

Role Reversal

As far as Mahendra can tell, the second of his daughters resembles no one in particular—save for the unhappiest of the queens of Mahishmati.

Space

In the space of only a few hours, Mahendra—newborn and nestled in his mother’s arms—has captured his grandmother’s heart completely.

Always a Different Profession AU

Sivvu can’t help but wish that Avantika wouldn’t interrupt her first seminar at business school by sending excited selfies from Basic Training.

Before the Beginning

Avantika expects to hate anyone lucky enough to be born Devasena’s own daughter; the only thing that exceeds her envy is her instant affection.

Bodyswap

“Really,” muses Sivvu, practical as always, “this could be much worse.”

Curse

At night the rebel camp sleeps, watched over by the souls of those children of Kuntala who will never draw breath.

Darkest Timeline

The only world worse than one in which they do not know each other is that in which they are irrevocably opposed.

Fall

“To think,” says Sivvu, wrinkling her nose, “that you’ve gone and lost your heart to Mahendra!”

Floriography****

Avantika, cold and lonely, shelters under an acacia tree, and dreams of the friend—no, sister—she shall never have.

Play

True friendship, Avantika thinks, is keeping a straight face as Sivvu solemnly declaims soliloquies from ancient literature.

Role Reversal

Then comes the day a noblewoman of conquered Kuntala meets the determined daughter of the rebel Amarendra Baahubali.

Space

“Do you think,” Sivvu wonders aloud as she stares up at the night sky, “that we’ll ever know all its secrets?”; Avantika cannot know, but she is sure that her friend has a better chance of discovering them than anyone else.

Always a Different Profession AU

Father has Sivvu as unofficial apprentice, and Mother has half-adopted Avantika, but it isn’t until Uncle Bhalla tosses Mahendra his gauntlets with a grunt that he realizes it’s his footsteps he’s meant to follow in.

Before the Beginning

Bhalla promises himself to never have any heirs of his body; if only that meant his life would be blessedly free of brats.

Bodyswap

“Fix this!” demands Uncle Bhalla, unusually wild-eyed; behind him, Mahendra growls, “Would I not if I could,whelp?”

Curse

“Language, Uncle,” Mahendra says sunnily, and struggles to keep a straight face as Bhalla glowers.

Darkest Timeline

He will protect the heirs to the throne because such is the Commander-in-Chief’s responsibility; he will save his niece and nephew at the cost of his own life because they are--inexplicably--dear to him.

Fall

Uncle Bhalla shouts and storms when he discovers Mahendra on his precarious perch; it’s only years later that Mahendra realizes that his face had been white with fright, not anger.

Floriography****

He cares no more than a mustard seed for the children; but still, he brings sprigs of myrtle to be hung in their nurseries.

Play

He does not lower himself to play with his brother’s children, like a lumbering fool; instead, he imparts valuable life lessons, such as where to hide and how to run before he catches them.

Role Reversal

With a yelp of apology, Mahendra tips over the brazier in Bhalla’s room; along with the rush of heat, a chill creeps down his spine—an echo, perhaps, from an unhappier universe.

Space

Mother and Father and Mahendra are loud and lively, and Sivvu loves them for it; but when she wants a measure of calm to collect her thoughts, it’s Uncle Bhalla she seeks out.

[glittergummicandypeach]

‘Ramy’: A TV show for those who still care about religion

(RNS) — When he found the joke, Ramy Youssef had been searching for it for four months. It was the summer of 2015. He was back east visiting his parents in his native New Jersey and had driven his mom’s car out to Brooklyn to perform a quick stand-up set.

“I just started talking about what I was doing. I was like, ‘I’m fasting Ramadan.’” There were about 10 people in the crowd. “Oh your parents make you do that?” a guy shouted out. “I was like, no, this isn’t about anyone making me do this. It’s what I want to do.” Then the comic blurts out, “I believe in God. Like, God, God. Not yoga.”

“And there’s just this like, pop. Like a laugh,” Youssef explained during an interview over Zoom.

On the drive back to New Jersey, he said, he listened back to his set on his iPhone and then shot off a text to fellow comedian Jerrod Carmichael. “Dude, I think I found a joke.”

The first thing people tend to notice about “Ramy,” the A24/Hulu series written, directed and produced by Youssef, is that it’s the first American television show about a Muslim family. The show lives and breathes in the specificity of a millennial male raised in an immigrant Arab community in New Jersey, but what the show tries to reveal is something not spoken of much in public, and certainly not in Hollywood: people’s actual relationship to faith and to the greater questions of purpose and meaning.

The show is the product of the auteur-vision of 29-year-old Youssef, who has spent the last decade working as a comic and actor in Hollywood. It’s a culmination of what grew out of that first joke, and in two seasons has a firm grasp on a new comedic language for which to approach and to talk about spiritual matters in the generally secular, irreligious landscape of comedy and television. It’s only able to do this because it’s written from a deeply autobiographical place of ruthless self-interrogation, which allows the character’s questions to come through the screen with an authenticity that’s hard to ignore.

The character Ramy Hassan began as a fictionalization of Youssef’s own spiritual and emotional experiences more so than anything else. Oddly enough, Youssef didn’t build Ramy to be liked. He had an idea that Ramy would act as a representation of our lower selves, those purely egoistic unthinking qualities of our beings that irrationally oppose and battle our higher aspirations.

Actors Hiam Abbass, left, and Amr Waked, right, play the parents of Ramy Youssef's title character in “Ramy.” Photo courtesy of Hulu

But he’s not one-dimensional either.

Ramy is a well-meaning, earnest but immature seeker, and if he possesses any heroic quality, it’s his refusal to give up on his soul, despite his own seemingly constant moral failures. No matter how far he falls, he never loses the aspiration to be good, even when surrounded on all sides by forces that we recognize might stamp out that light of ambition if it were us in his shoes.

We see his world established in the pilot episode: On the one hand, he is a conflicted participant of a hedonistic culture of partying and sex, but on the other, he feels a spiritual strength and connection to his faith, despite elements of a closed-off, illogical conservatism. This all makes Ramy Hassan a most unusual protagonist, a character whose motivation is seeking a genuine connection to God.

“I’ve always felt like a very honest seeker, and I wanted to make work that felt like that. (Work) that felt self-examining,” Youssef explained. He came out to Hollywood at 19 years old, and in the first six or seven years appeared on a few TV shows and was doing regular stand-up, but he felt a yearning for his work to be representative of what was going on inside of him in a spiritual sense.

A poster for the Hulu series “Ramy.” Image courtesy of Hulu

He began by talking about his guilt on stage, mostly around premarital sex. Growing up and into adulthood, Youssef never questioned his faith, but he did start to doubt himself in it when he began to slip up.

“So much of my life I was saying, I want to do this the right way. I’m not going to have sex until I get married,” he said. “Somewhere along the way I broke those rules and then started to feel like the way the setup was around me that I should leave (the religion). And that made me really sad because I didn’t want to let go.”

The more a question scared Youssef, the more valuable it became for him to include it in his stand-up. If he got up on stage and didn’t feel vulnerable, or the most scared he’d ever felt to say something, it ceased to feel like the work he was supposed to be doing.

Taking a difficult feeling and then extrapolating the jokes and stories from it became Youssef’s art. “I’m putting myself under the microscope. And then, and then I started to think, oh, this will be really cool because I want these conversations to come up. I want this kind of self-examination to happen in our communities,” he explained.

Once he realized he could be a force to instigate real conversation and examination, Youssef brought together a team to build a show around this idea. “I actually have this vehicle where I can create this character for everyone to examine. You know, this character is not built to be liked.”

The show depicts a religious environment where every character except for Ramy seems content with the various mismatches between their beliefs and their practice of their faith. These are treated as humorous idiosyncrasies rather than as tragic character flaws — which allows them to serve as metaphors for the audience to pick up on unexamined faults and difficult questions we otherwise might be too ashamed to see and too afraid to ask.

In the first season, Ramy Hassan meets an earnest but simple white convert in the mosque who points to the moral lesson that undergirds the entire season: “You’re all like, I do these things and I don’t do things, so I’m this kind of person, right? It’s a trick of the devil, bro.” With this line and its characteristic non-chalance of Youssef's writing, the minor character delivers a deep spiritual lesson gleaned from the inner tradition of Islam: that to identify oneself with one’s actions is poison to the spiritual path. One will either despair because they see themselves as a sinner, or will be self-satisfied because of their pious works. The Sufis say a sign that a good action was not accepted by God is that one remembers he or she did it.

Season 2 proves Youssef’s vision for art can translate into stories outside of his own personal narrative. We are introduced to Shaykh Ali Malik, played by Mahershala Ali, the first person on the show who practices faith in a way that appears strong yet still relatable. He is a religious character who feels human, without being hypocritical. Ali plays a Sufi teacher whom Ramy latches onto in the beginning of the season, and he shows what a balanced approach to religion might look like.

Actors Ramy Youssef, left, and Mahershala Ali in Season 2 of “Ramy.” Photo by Craig Blankenhorn/Hulu

“Islam is like an orange,” Shaykh Ali explains to Ramy early in the season. “There’s an outer part and an inner part. If someone only got the rules and rituals, they might think Islam was tough and bitter … the rind without the flesh is bitter and useless. The flesh without the rind would quickly rot. The outer Shariah (religious law) protects the inner spirituality, and the inner spirituality gives the outer Shariah its purpose and meaning.”

Ramy offers up an entirely different set of questions in the second season. Ramy’s character appears better in some ways — he is, for the most part, no longer engaging in premarital sex, for example. But he’s swapped out that particular vice for a fairly regular diet of porn and candy. He tries to follow the instructions of his teacher but still continues to lie and not take responsibility for his actions.

Whereas the first season felt like an encouragement to the would-be religious, Season 2 seems like a parable for the religious: You might think you’re better because you’ve changed your circumstances, but without the self-examination and rigor Shaykh Ali represents, when tested, you will fall.

All comedy relies on tension; there has to be an inhale and an exhale. What Youssef has discovered is that the inhale can be used to take deep dives into the soul to bring out what was already there.

“It’s not about giving answers. I’m not in a position to do that. I would be idiotic if I tried to do that through any of the forms I create, but can I bring people closer to their questions? That seems to me to be my audience — people who need that, who want that, who are excited by that. Anyone who feels like they solidly have the answer probably hates my work.”

The first two seasons of “Ramy” are just the first few chapters for what might become a modern-day epic, an illogical and soulful morality tale for people who have questions they’ve been too afraid to ask or who are still interested in the future and health of religion in America. It’s a bizarre hagiography of a ridiculous man. Were Ramy Hassan a literary character, he’d be the Don Quixote of the spiritual path, marching forth in his mission with unending enthusiasm, undeterred by his own repeated failures.

This content was originally published here.

[cinephiled-com]

New Post has been published on Cinephiled

New Post has been published on http://www.cinephiled.com/circus-books-rachel-mason-chronicles-parents-surprising-business-selling-gay-porn/

In ‘Circus of Books,’ Rachel Mason Chronicles Her Parents’ Surprising Business — Selling Gay Porn

Rachel Mason’s moving documentary tells the story of the iconic bookstore and gay porn shop that served as the epicenter for LGBTQ life in Los Angeles for decades. Unbeknownst to many in the community it served, the store was cultivated and cared for by Mason’s parents, Karen and Barry, a straight conservative Jewish couple. Circus of Books is an intimate portrait of the Masons and their accidental journey to become one of the biggest distributors of hardcore gay porn in the United States, all the while downplaying the family business to their friends, synagogue, and even their own children. While they approached their store primarily as a way to support their family, Circus of Books also provided a much-needed non-judgmental gathering place for L.A.’s LGBTQ community. When the AIDS epidemic hit with a vengeance, Karen and Barry provided aid and comfort to countless people who were suffering, even as the mens’ own families rejected them.

Rachel Mason, director of Circus Of Books

An accomplished artist in her own right, Rachel Mason’s portrait of this lost world (her parents finally retired last year and the bookstore closed for good) is a poignant and entertaining document of an institution that was vital to its community. Mason also wrote and performs the end credit song, “Give You Everything.” The film is now available for screening on Netflix. I so enjoyed talking to Rachel Mason from her shelter-in-place.

Danny Miller: Rachel, it’s great to talk with you, I so enjoyed this beautiful film!

Rachel Mason: Thank you so much, I appreciate that!

I was happy to hear that you had already done the festival circuit with the film and that you got to screen it with appreciative audiences. I so feel for filmmakers who are having their films come out during this miserable pandemic.

Yes, we should have a moment of silence for all the films that are not getting what I got, it’s so sad. We were going to have a theatrical release, but I’m thrilled that people can now see the film on Netflix. I loved our time at all of the festivals, but the gay festivals in particular were such a joy. There was such a communal spirit at those screenings, with everyone getting all the references and laughing and crying at all the right moments!

I imagine this would be such a fun film to see with a big crowd.

For sure. When I saw the film with gay audiences, that’s when felt like I had actually done something for my community. I really feel for all the filmmakers and audiences who aren’t getting that right now, I hope we can figure out new ways to get that community spirit.

The upside, I guess, if you can call it that, is that you’ve got a captive audience yearning for new content.

That’s true. And while I think the film is for everyone, I think one of the best things about it is that it’s bringing people together in the queer community to remind us all of this historical past that is slipping away so quickly — especially the younger generation. I think many young people don’t have a clue about what the older generation went through. I want them and future generations to know what happened and what the role of erotic content was for our community in those years before the Internet.

I had the chance to interview Scotty Bowers when Matt Tyrnauer’s documentary Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood came out. He reminded me how few options there were before the Internet for gay people.  It seems like places like your parents’ store were such a vitally important resource for the community. I’m glad that stories like his and the one you’re telling here are recorded for posterity. 

I completely agree. There’s so much that is disappearing because the older generation is not around. The people who survived the AIDS epidemic are like cherished members of our community. We need to get all these stories down. I hope Circus of Books gives people a sense that they really need to look for these stories before they disappear.

Without this film, the story of your parents and their role in this community would never have been known. Needless to say, I totally fell in love with your parents. In so many ways they reminded me so much of my own Jewish parents. It’s fascinating when you talk in the film about how you and your brothers didn’t quite realize what they were doing and it was only your friends who finally clued you in.

It was really interesting because my parents were so not cool. I had lots of cool friend friends with really cool parents, but my parents were not those people. They were kind of boring. They were straight. My mom was super religious which annoyed the crap out of me and all I wanted to do was rebel against them. And then here come my rebel friends who I find out are going to my family’s store and saying how cool it is. It was such a shock to me. In the end, it was exciting to realize that I had this access to one of the coolest places in the city in terms of how all my friends in the gay underground saw it. I think I appreciated the store so much more from the time I was a teenager on, and it was kind of like God’s will that I made this film because nobody else could have gotten the access. I mean, my mom would certainly not have ever let anyone but me follow her around with a camera, that was the last thing she wanted.

It’s kind of a miracle that the film happened at all considering your mother’s reluctance to be a part of it, and yet I think that tension is also part of why it’s such a compelling film. Would you say that you finally won your mother over in terms of her being happy about being part of the documentary?

Well, I did manage to trot her out at a few of the festival screenings and have her stand there while she got standing ovations. My mom is very much a reluctant hero. First off, she hoped no one would ever see this film and now that people are seeing it, she has had to reckon with the fact that she is looked on as a hero by lots of people and yet she doesn’t feel any sense of heroism because up until the day the store closed, she says she was just doing her job — filing paperwork, sending out invoices, making sure her staff got paid — all the things you do to run a small business and none of it was particularly glamorous or interesting. So, when you finally come up for air after 40 years and people start thanking you for doing this work, there’s a sort of shell shock. Plus, my mother has an innate talent to find fault in almost anything. After she got a five-minute standing ovation at Frameline, she was perplexed that it went on for so long. I was like, “Mom, the one thing you can’t criticize is a standing ovation, there is just nothing bad about that!” (Laughs.)

I’m glad she showed up for those events despite her discomfort. In terms of the heroic element, yes, they were providing this amazing service for an oppressed community without judgment, but as soon as the AIDS crisis hit, that’s when I would start calling your parents real heroes. What they did to help people in that world during that awful time was so touching.

It’s true. That was really important even if they didn’t see it as anything extraordinary. When we look at the history of the Holocaust, there are these people who are called Righteous Gentiles who helped the people who were being persecuted, like the ones who hid Anne Frank and so many others. Those people are often very reluctant to accept any acknowledgement because they simply did what they felt was right. Like, what would you do if your best friend’s daughter was going to get killed? I mean, you would probably think about hiding her in your attic, too, right? It’s a simple thing but it reminds us all that there’s something called humanity here. And the lack of humanity that the gay population saw during the AIDS crisis was just utterly shocking. We look back at that time now, and we’re like, “Wow, really?” Parents didn’t show up for their own dying children and yet they called themselves Christians.

Did you realize what was going on at that time and what your parents were doing to help these people?

I didn’t understand the depth of that pain. My perspective on it as a kid was that I would see these beautiful, funny, amazing gay men who worked at the store who were great people and hilarious. And then, my mom would say, “Oh, well, he’s not here anymore because he died.” This happened again and again but I had this child’s perspective on it that I almost didn’t think twice about until I got older and knew many people who lost so many of their friends. And then when I interviewed my parents for the film and heard these stories, I was just heartbroken. A mother would call my mom and want to know what her son was like. And my mother would think, “Fuck you, lady, he was dying and you refused to fly out here from Idaho  to see him when he needed you so badly.” No amount of anti-gay feelings should override parental love to that extent. I wish I could say those sentiments have disappeared today but we know they’re still out there. We’re all aware that there is a powerful Christian right in this country. I was just reading about that hospital in New York that was set up on in Central Park to help with the pandemic but before anyone could work there or be treated they had to sign something saying they agreed with the group’s anti-gay policies.

Horrible.

I do think that’s where heroism comes in. My mom never ran out onto a battlefield to rescue people while bullets were flying, but she helped people who were being treated so cruelly by their own families and our culture. Sometimes it’s the least likely people who decide to stand up and do something right.

I love that analogy to the Righteous Gentiles during the Holocaust. Have your parents ever been honored by any LGBTQ groups?

Oh, God, no. First of all, they weren’t known. My parents were very, very private people, especially my mother. And very behind the scenes. Also because their work was related to the sex industry —

With its own biases and prejudices, forget about the gay part.

Exactly. So they just had their heads down and hoped no one would ever ask them about what they do. My mom would always try to just get past that question very quickly if anyone asked. “We have a bookstore.” That’s why this film is so shocking to their system.

I admit that when I was watching this film, a lot of my tears came from the scene with your brother when he talks about what it was like for him to come out. That was so moving already, but then seeing your reaction as he’s telling his story was even more so.

Those were very real tears for me. When I heard him talk about the day he came out, and how he had gotten a one-way plane ticket because he didn’t know if he’d be accepted by my parents, I was just so horrified, I never knew he had gone through any of that. I had such a different experience growing up. I love my parents, but I was kind of done with them putting any pressures on me. I was always a rebel, my friends were all gay or from the counterculture — I took a girl to prom and no one even said anything about it. And the truth is I was too caught up in my own selfish teenaged world to notice my little brother and his struggles. And then interviewing him at 37 and hearing him talk about 18-year-old Josh being that closeted and afraid, I just had these extreme feelings of shame. I realized I was out there waving my freak flag while poor little Josh was just trying so hard to be that perfect little kid. I think his is the more common story, most people are not artists and weirdos thumbing their nose at society like I was at a young age. I think that’s what gave me a free pass — I never even bothered to come out to them. Josh carried so much pressure to be the perfect child.

That scene is such a touchstone for the film. Do you think the level of secrecy around your parents’ business had repercussions on your family dynamic?

What’s interesting is that despite her work, my mom had all the classic Jewish family values, like wanting us to marry Jewish, have kids, go to college. My mom had all these hardcore expectations for us to get straight As, and nothing was ever good enough. And later I would think, “Why do we have to do all this?” Was it related to the fact that they ran a gay porn shop? She’s never really let go of those expectations to this day, it’s kind of maddening.

I can relate to those Jewish family values that are often bathed in neuroses.

Yeah, like there’s always this element of fear and survival mixed in — like you could get killed at any moment. You might think that you are part of the culture here but just wait until they start attacking Jews, we’ll be the first to be shoved into the ovens. I think that was also part of their fear of being open about what they were doing with the store.

I love all the interviews in the film. It’s amazing to see people like Larry Flynt and gay porn star Jeff Stryker, but what moved me the most is hearing from the old employees. What amazing characters. It’s so great to get their oral histories down from this lost world.

Totally. My dad talks about how important the employees were to people in the community. Like people would know that Gerald was there from four to six so they would go in then. Gerald had his own customers, and then earlier in the day Ben had his own group of customers, it was almost like fan clubs grew around all the different people who worked there. They knew their customers so well and what kinds of things they liked so they would give them a customized experience, like a niche within the niche.

Your mother gets a lot of attention because she’s such a compelling character, but I was so moved by your father as well.

My dad is a guy who just loves life and he’s thrilled at the attention he’s gotten because of the film, the opposite of my mom who is panic-stricken about it. They’re an interesting pair because he is the most happy-go-lucky person I’ve ever known.

I just wish we weren’t in the middle of a pandemic because I would love to see your parents at the screenings with big crowds.

Oh, on that front my mother couldn’t be happier about the pandemic and that she doesn’t have to do anything related to the film. Before the quarantine started, she joked about heading to Antarctica for a month after the film came out and living in an igloo!

Circus of Books is now available to watch on Netflix.