#the entire course of the story to glorify himself and his idea of the “perfect” formula for a show

[linklethehistorian]

I think the most hilarious feeling ever is when you find a fandom you’re absolutely in deep with in some aspects and desperately want people who get it™️, but then if anyone outside of the fandom actually were to show interest in it, your first instinct would be to go “well first of all let me warn you — it’s ass and you’re going to regret this”

[sushi-rat]

I don't know where the idea came from exactly. But I have a headcanon that Thor struggles a lot with his identity as a destructive god who grew up in a war-based society.

Bucky has a particular arc in the MCU. Bucky, after being forced/tortured to be a brutal weapon with not even a real name, finally starts remembering his life, remembers and falls in love with Steve, heals from his hypnosis and mind control, and seems to find safety in being gentle, being presented and treated more delicate and peaceful. I particularly love gay-jewish-bucky's posts about soft Bucky (not @ them as this post has little to none to do with Bucky or them). Bucky doesn't want to be dangerous, he often covers or takes off his prosthetic as he still needs room to learn how to trust himself, he doesn't want to fight. He's done and tired and would rather sit at home under a fluffy blanket, in some cozy, loose pjs, and cuddled next to Steve. (I reject most of Endg*me and onward)

I like to also apply this sort of arc to Thor. He's very much a kindhearted, loud, caring person who does mature and takes the time to learn and listen. A lot of development and maturing happens in Thor 1 when he goes from battle-driven and practically blood-thirsty to understanding life of beings and that killing an entire race for the acts of the few or the acts of the past is unjustifiable. Problem is, he started off as a self-absorbed killer primarily due to Odin and the glorifying of conquering in Asgardian society, the fact that Odin is known for his acts of violence and control over separate colonies, that brute warriors are prioritized over the more physically weak like Loki, ect. While Odin showed fury over Thor's brash actions and harshly punished him, it has been shown that Odin never really took any steps to teach Thor true peace, especially with things like the control over colonies which was addressed in Ragnarok to have been happening in the background, Odin's talk to Thor in The Dark World where Odin says that mortals' lives are fleeting and therefore should mean nothing to gods which, most likely, that sort of talk about other races has been a part of the boys' upbringing, and Odin telling his stories of victory since the boys were young and fueling them on seeking glory. The true extent of the bloody history of Asgard is touched upon more in Ragnarok with Hela's upbringing and in the comics (I own the Thor vs Gorr series and there's a part where Thor goes to a Nexus for research and the librarian is very hostile and mentions how an entire library section about murders and bloodshed is mostly full of Odin's/Asgard's "adventures"). All-in-all, very war-driven society that Thor grew up in, so of course he knows destruction better than anything.

Later he gets to uncover lies, he loses everything, and shows a distancing and tiredness when it comes to fighting. One of the few things I agree with in Endg*me is how all of the remaining Avengers show a distancing to fighting, so much to the point they distanced from each other. Thor was genuinely depressed and consciously attempted to repress or ignore everything previous, and tried to build some semblance of peace out of what little he had. He has seen what true war is. What he grew up with, that glory, was Odin having perfect control and power over his enemies and beating them to submission. Fighting Hela and losing your home and people in the process, fighting Thanos and losing people that you love, feeling guilt over not being good enough when you fail, he now knows what TRUE war is like. And it broke him. So much so, he doesn't jump at the opportunity to fix everything and he worries over failing again.

I feel Thor's feelings about battle and his change could've been addressed better in anything released after Infinity War, falling into a similar arc as Bucky's: being a weapon (though for the 2 characters, it was much different situations with different levels of willingness- in Bucky's case none at all) but ending up in a situation that makes them crave being softer and non-threatening.

I also think a good, secondary tie-in for this sort of development for Thor is the fact that he is a god of nature. He is the God of Thunder with an ability to also create/control storm events like lightning, a tornado as seen in Thor 1 which could prolly be extended to controlling wind, and many people headcanon that he could control rainstorms due to the associated lightning + thunder abilities. Thor is not a God of War or Destruction or Battle. His powers lie within nature, nature events that can be destructive but can also be peaceful and kind; the rain that waters the plants, the soft thunder that people often love and even listen to ambience of to go to sleep at night, the beautiful strikes of lightning that many are obsessed with, the breeze to cool a hot day. I feel many gods of nature are treated much more gentle, and this could be a really good note towards Thor's character: a god of nature that grows up learning nothing but war, coming to a point where he wants to have the opportunity that other nature gods have that he never got. He's known for being good with animals in the comics so maybe he starts a routine to feed the animals in his area, he learns to control his powers and can bring a gentle rain to water the nearby plants and even aid his own garden, his powers give him an exceptional green-thumb, he plays with the village kids by letting them ride the wind- literally, entertaining people with tricks with his lightning similarly to how Loki shows off the fireworks his mom taught him in the Loki series. Even his amazing strength he uses for helping to build the houses of New Asgard, or lifting up a horse to help carry it back to the stable.

I just really like the idea of Thor becoming softer and maturing past the oppressive destruction of the Old Asgard, paving his own way and bringing a new hope and light to a new, peaceful, Asgard

[omegaobeyme]

I've been obsessed with Lady Gaga's, "Judas" Song...and it gave me an idea for a short Fic. A Devil's Angel Tags: PG13+, scene of violence/death, Angel/Human!MC, DiavoloxMc, Spoilers for lesson 16 Part 1/?

Diavolo was a glorified demon, rivaling strength to only 2 other realm leaders. Of course, if you asked any obedient servant of the throne, he was naturally the obvious winner. So what happens when you have all of the strength a being could dream of and more? You "make friends" apparently. There was no way this all-powerful man could be up to such a light-hearted task. Perhaps it was his butler, Barbatos, with such knowledge and time who guided Diavolo to urge such a conclusion. Had the green-haired demon known a war was to commence? Was Diavolo truly unfit to win such a battle, and therefore needed another way out? These questions filled your head as you stepped into your new dormitory. You were a human, just not too human entirely. Angels essence filled your being thanks to your ancestor, Lilith. You had even met Michael himself years back when her memories flooded yours as the angel essence was supposed to take you to heaven. Long story short, you were in a temporary coma after a car accident. Simeon shook you out of your head with a hand on your shoulder, "remember why you're here." He said, with the same smile he always gave. It was too suspicious for a soon-to-be demon lord to be asking for unity, and god wanted answers. This is where you came in: a seemingly innocent human whose in an extremely unique position to gain an advantage; and more importantly, knowledge. Solomon joined you for your first tea with Barbatos and Diavolo, time allowing. Knocking on the door, you were met with the tired eyes of the butler. "Welcome, over this way." Barbatos guided the pair of humans and you couldn't help but notice how unnervingly perfect this man was. It was as if a board has been placed against his back, perfectly aligning his spine starting at his hips, threaded through his neck. Finally, he motioned towards a satin couch placed within an openly lit common area, decorated with lavish antiques, artwork, and instruments. Solomon broke the silence, "Ah, Auguste Allaire?" "Indeed." The green-haired demon replied, understanding his question without having to look at the painting Solomon was referencing. "I would like to clarify this meeting is to get to know our human exchange students," He began lifting a tray off his serving cart, finished with matching teacups and plates for the both of us, "As humans, it's of upmost importan-" Doors burst open, featuring a particularly muscled demon prince. "Barbatos!" Diavolo smiled so wide his eyes managed to shut. Not only was his personality loud, his laugh was louder. "Sorry, sorry! I'm late, aren't I?" If you were embarrassed, you can imagine Barbatos' reaction in his own mind. He simply sat down and motioned for his Lord to follow suit. It was at this moment you thought it was a horrible prank you somehow got involved in. Months would pass, much like the meetings you had with the royals. During these moments you were allowed questions pre-approved by Simeon. "Why do you want to unite the realms?" and "What happened to the king?" All of which never satisfied any angels curiosity. It seemed for that you'd continue this way forever, until the day you knew of him. The sun gently glazed over your skin, sending shivers at the unexpected warmth of the devildom morning. Of course, it was Lucifer. "I know you better than to sleep in, MC." His gaze shifts to your own, as his back turns to face the now opened curtain of your room. "I'm sorry, I don't usually sleep in unless I'm sick." You weren't lying, it was unusual. "Oh? Perhaps it would be best for you to stay home. I'll have Satan take notes in your stead." Lucifer retorted, sparing you no opportunity to argue back. Then again...this would give you an opportunity to explore the house, especially to find anything Diavolo's "right hand man" might be keeping. Simply nodding, you rolled the covers over your head and set the alarm for another hour, knowing well a mostly human like yourself couldn't escape their well-trained eyes to watch them walk away. At 8 a.m, you awoke to find breakfast in a tightly-sealed container. However, hunger

could barely invade the anxiety creeping upon you. First in priority was making sure everyone was gone, no one in the kitchen, bedrooms, studies, or observatories. Now it was finally time...you took the steps towards Lucifer's room, each slower than the last. Lifting the back of your hand, you knock only to realize the door opening upon contact. The air was noticeably cooler, and his record player opened, as if suddenly stopped. You draw your attention towards his desk, the obvious choice. As you go through paperwork, you realize you can't find any, despite the mountains on his desk every night. Of course. They must've been brought to RAD along with his briefcase he brings every day. But there had to be something. Anything. Go through his bookshelves: nothing. Flip through his records: nothing. The closest lead you've got is a sticky-note in his book with a quote. You take off, looking for any other places he could possibly be storing such sensitive information, then it hit you: the upstairs. Lucifer had made it such a point to not venture upstairs, could he have been more oblivious of such a hint? Honestly, it was still scary to think about going up to an unknown part of the house, but you had no other choice. After checking the time, you begin making the climb only to find a hallway with one door. A loud bang comes from an unknown direction, and you flinch, thinking someone had come home. Then a low chuckle comes from the room in front of you, nearly taunting. Once you gather your emotions, you continue onward to face whatever lay in front of you, only to find a normal-looking human. "who-" "oh, are you the new playtoy?" he responds, "excuse me?" You step backwards, out of reach from his hands, "I don't know what you're talking about." His smile fades, "oh, you must be another human.." He's human, too? "I know what it looks like, but you're not safe here. Ask about Belphegor. Meet me again when it's safe. He's coming back." the blue-white haired male shrinks back into the darker area of the room, and before you can process, your feet run down to your room. Not too long after, a knock fills the empty air. The handle turns, and Satan makes his appearance visible. "Wow. You do look bad. Maybe you should get back to bed." you shake your head, attempting to mask the heartbeat in your chest. "No! No, I'm fine, I swear. What's in your hand?" attempting to avert his attention, you point to the notebook in his hand. "Oh, that. Well I came here to study with you since I heard you missed the day." Satan moved in towards your bed, laying the notebook on your bedstand and flipping to the nearest filled-in page. "Here's the theories we went over, and the elixir's following. I've already taken geography so I brought my old textbook to help, and then there's realm science." You hold your hand up for him to pause as you look over each notes. "Wait, Griffins horn? I thought it was powdered unicorn hoof." He smiles, "Nice catch. We go over it next semester, some things can be substituted for higher-grade materials depending on the molecular structure. If you take a look at..." Satan proceeds to take your mind off the previous situation for the next two hours. That is, until you get lost in thought. "MC? MC, snap out of-" "Who is Belphegor?" you interrupt, leaving him speechless. He clicks his tongue, hand on temple. Everytime he attempts to talk he groans in frustration. Panic settles upon your face unsure of what you had just asked. Had he just set you up? Was he another demon out to steal your soul? What will they do when they find out. "What do you know?" Satan manages to find words, "I-" you begin to lose yours. What does Belphegor mean? It seems like a name but what if- "You know what? I don't want to know. Keep it to yourself." He gets off from the edge of your bed and slams the door behind him. This wouldn't be the last time you heard of him, nor the last you saw. The next morning was eerie. You weren't dead, but..it somehow felt like it. No one came to let you know of breakfast, even after a few minutes of waiting. It

wasn't like you wanted to show your face either, you felt naked. When you did arrive, everyone at the table remained silent besides minimal conversations. Beelzebub no longer tried to steal your food, and Asmodeus wasn't trying to flirt with you. When Lucifer announced it was time to head to RAD, a weight had been lifted from the silence. After opening the door, you noticed another figure beside him. "Good morning, Mc. May I trouble you in taking you out of classes for another day?" Barbatos lightly tilted his head as his eyes looked upon your soul. "O-Of course." You took the hand provided, as he lead you to the castle. When you arrived, Barbatos told you to make yourself comfortable in the first living room. Before long, Diavolo appeared alongside him. "Mc! It's good to see you!" he beamed, arms opened for a hug. "And you as well, Diavolo." Quick to your feet, you met his courtesy. He brightened further when you returned his affection. "Do you by chance enjoy flowers?" Thinking back to the celestial realm, you nod. Taking your hand, he shows you to the garden out back. "Out of everything I was not expecting a garden.." "Really? What did you expect?" His arms crossed and he moved closer towards you, watching your expressions as you gathered your thoughts. "Well, for a demon, maybe stone statues or torture devices." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Is that what humans think now? Are we that cruel?" Diavolo jokes, until Barbatos chimes in, "Times have changed since young masters reign." as he finishes, you notice the plate of gourmet sandwiches prepared for the two of you, placed on a garden table not too far off. Together, you shared the next two hours together chatting alone. Without distractions clouding the brain, things seemed to appear as usual. The brothers began talking to you as normal, including Satan. Simeon hadn't brought up any information or lack thereof since the last meeting with Diavolo and Solomon. In fact, Diavolo seemed to be taking more time out of his schedule to spend with you alone, rather than the two human exchange students. It was nice, for a change; until you remembered what occurred with the Belphegor situation. "So, why did you ask me here in the first place?" Diavolo noticed your body language shifting for a few minutes now, but he knew something was coming at this point. "Today? Well, I enjoy the company of-" "No, Dia. When you first brought me to this garden." It couldn't be helped, you had now formed a friendship with Diavolo. He knew too much about you and how you truly acted when you were yourself, rather than the puppet an angel could use. Emotions conflicted, parts of you yearned to let loose, yet at the same time, what if it was all just an act? What if you had fallen right into his trap, and he knew all along? Just like the dictator Michael had expected. Putting his cup aside, he took a brief pause before answering. "Satan told me that day what had occurred. I thought it best to ensure my exchange student's --" Diavolo stopped as you stood up, allowing your exit. "Tired. So fucking tired." You thought to yourself as you made your way home to the house of Lamentation. Of course, not only did the oh-so-friendly prince take you out of classes once a week, he adjusted your course schedule to reflect such changes. All you could think was how pathetic you are for allowing this to happen under your watch. You never felt fit for this job, but never more so in this moment. Hesitation couldn't be found as you made your way up the stairs into the room. "You're back. Angry. Cat got your tongue?" He was obviously trying to rile you up and it was working. "So who is Belphegor? Are you trying to get me killed?" At this point, he bursts out laughing, "you think this is funny?!" you scream out. "Very." He stops, looking directly into your eyes. "And you're only helping me escape. How about I tell you a secret? I'm not even a human. I know you understand that by now, but I'm Belphegor, the last brother. And you just helped me escape." Before you knew it, hands wrapped around your neck. It was

gentle enough to find release, running downstairs and towards the front door. It was always apparent there was risks, but that's why you had the angels blessing! So why are you so close to death?? Before you could turn the handle, it moves itself. Belphie takes the chance to knock you off your feet, immobilizing you and landing you upon your back. The door opens as Belphegor protrudes claws into your most vital organ, and cold rushes over you, processing the last visuals of Lucifer's shock with Diavolo behind him. "Open your eyes." You wince. He's on top of you, how could you look? There's no way a human could escape the wrath of a demon. "Did you forget about me?" the voice echoes. What? Opening your eyes, you find nothing but white space. Suddenly, a door appears in front of your body. "Don't waste it. And don't forget where you came from." Lilith? There's no way...but then, this couldn't be a dream. It felt too real. On the other side of the doorframe was your last visual before you died, from another perspective. Glimpses flash from her own memories as it floods into your own.. in a flash, your perspective of yourself and the brothers around you changes. You could see the door Lucifer held opening in mere seconds. He froze, in shock of seeing Belphegor out. What's more, the man behind him couldn't see. The red haired demon pushed through, to find the worst fate. Immediately transforming, he flies to your dead body's side. Anger wouldn't be enough to describe what you witnessed in his eyes, nor the grief he was going through. This wasn't normal. Nothing in your body felt that what you were watching was normal. A king's priority should be on subduing Belphegor, and here he was at your deceased version's side. Suddenly, Belphegor's words filled the air. "DON'T FUCKING DARE, FOR THEM? HAHAHA!" You've never heard such a deranged laugh before. Lucifer's eyes opened even further upon processing what Diavolo was accomplishing. Tears couldn't be found in Diavolo's face, he was far beyond it. Whatever was happening, Belphegor didn't dare interrupt. "L-Lord Diavolo, you can't sacrifice yourself for-" Diavolo paid no mind to his right hand mans attempt at stopping him, taking a deep inhale, hands at his horns. "I apologize mother, but I can assure you I won't be wasting your gift." time slows further as Diavolo begins to pull away at his horns. "STOP." Every head turns to look at you, including Diavolo. It wasn't until you died that it hit you. The moments before anyone realized you came back you saw his selfless actions for yourself.

[pet-genius]

Excerpt from an old fic - "The Snapes' Last Christmas"

Hogwarts, December, before the Christmas break, before the Courtyard scene, Severus’s 5th year

“Why do I hear rumours that you’re going to stay here over Christmas?” Lily asked Severus in mock-outrage.

“That depends, Lil. Is Potter leaving for Christmas?” He answered her with an earnest question.

“’Course he is,” she told him.

“Then I am staying. I’ll finally get some actual studying done in this place.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Sev!” Lily pleaded with him. “Who wants to be at school over Christmas break? It’s time to be with family!”

Good one, Severus thought to himself. “You haven’t been to Christmas at our house, though, have you?”

Lily looked down. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant… Come home for me!”

For a change, refusing her came easy. “Why don’t you stay here?” He asked his friend.

“No way. My parents will kill me. And I miss the little Muggle town! Come on!”

Lily might have had something to miss over there; Severus did not. The only place worse than school was home, and with Potter gone, school wouldn't be that bad.

“Drop it, Lily, I’m not spending another Christmas with Tobias asking why I didn’t bring him anything from that good-for-nothing wanker wizarding town when he doesn’t send me any money. You have fun though.”

She looked hurt. “So that’s it? You’re leaving me alone with Petunia?” It was not a welcoming prospect.

“What about all your Muggle friends?” He asked her, not without a note of bitterness. “Why don’t you spend your break with them?”

That’s great, Lily thought to herself. He was just trying to make her beg him to come, and she knew it.

“Well, I can’t tell them about magic, for one. Two, my parents told everyone I’m going to some posh private boarding school, and we don’t learn any Muggle subjects here and all my friends will expect me to be clever and I will feel like an idiot. Three, they’ll all want to talk about movies and records, and I haven’t seen a movie or heard a record in ages. Don’t you miss it at all? The movies?”

She doesn’t get it, does she? “Hey Tobias, can I get some money to go to the movies with my freak witch friend, please? How do you expect this to work out, Lil?” She forgot, sometimes, how awful he was. Good for her, Severus thought. Then she suggested he use magic, as if he was stupid to not have thought of it before.

“You can try Summoning his wallet, the last time I tried that I was limping for a week.”

Lily started to look exasperated, or maybe Severus imagined it. “Then I’ll get my mum to buy you tickets. Come on, is this what this is about? Money? Because we can study at my house, you know, mum and dad will be pleased.”

Severus did not need her charity. He wasn’t the one so desperate to go to the movies.

“Just ask Potter to spend Christmas with you. He’ll fly his stupid Nimbus 1000 across the entire United Kingdom for you twice, I reckon.”

Why does he have to tease me about James? It’s not my fault he fancies me. It’s not like I like his stupid stunts.

“Maybe Malfoy will give you a couple of Sickles, if you don’t tell him it’s so that you can go to the movies with a big Mudblood!”

Why are we fighting? She is the one who came to me!

“I don’t think you’re a mudblood, Lily, stop it,” he told her. Besides, Lucius had been busy. The last time Lucius had written him was weeks ago, and even that letter was really short. Lucius had been learning fascinating magic, though, so who could blame him? Much more useful than the rubbish they were teaching Severus at Hogwarts, he reckoned. There was magic out there he could really use, and he could not wait to use it all on Tobias… on the glorified trolls that made it their job to make his life as miserable as possible…

Lily noticed he was no longer in the same conversation as her. “A knut for your thoughts?”

“Nothing, honest.”

“So you’ll come?” She asked him. “Please? Pretty please? We don’t have to go to the movies. We don’t have to do anything. I just want you home with me.” She looked at him with a devilish spark in her eyes and almost sung: “and it will drive Petunia crazy.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Yes!” Lily exclaimed, and kissed him on the cheek. “I knew I could count on you!”

She ran off to join a group of giggling girls. Shocked, Severus remained where he was and touched his hot cheek. Currents ran up and down his body. Now he had to go. You’re good, Evans, he thought.

Spinner’s End, Christmas Eve, Severus’s fifth year

Of course, Tobias did not let Severus go to the Evanses for Christmas dinner. It'd been like that every year - a Christmas dinner with no decorations, with no guests, with his mother looking especially miserable (of course, this year he knew why). Every year, it was only the three Snapes sitting there while Tobias angrily barked at them to look happy. Not that he ever looked happy - he looked drunk. And mean.

“My own son wants to spend Christmas Eve with the redhead freak uptown and my own wife can’t be cheerful on this holy day to save her life.” Great, Tobias has something to say. He never shuts up.

“You know, they invited us. All of us. Even you. It was very nice of them, and it was very rude of us not to come,” Severus said. He knew his cheek would cost him, but he didn’t care.

“Rude, am I? They only invited us to show off their posh house, again, you idiot.” Just because they are not dirt poor does not make them “posh”, Severus thought. His father did not even know what posh was. But Severus did - he’d been to the Malfoy Manor.

“They invited us because Lily is my friend, Tobias!” Severus shouted - better go down for the dragon than for the egg.

“I am your father, Severus, your only father, and I certainly don’t want to spend Christmas with yet another abomination!” He waved his knife and fork ominously. “You and your useless mother are bad enough without that little pest running around my house, eating my food, stealing my belt. Don’t think I didn’t know about that, you wanker.”

Now he made Severus angry - well, angrier. “You don’t know anything, Tobias, she is a witch, not a common Muggle thief, she Vanished it!”

Tobias saw weakness, and he pounced. Even when drunk, he was good. An understanding smile spread across his revolting face. He looked like he just got his Christmas present. “She is too pretty for you, you know. She will outgrow you. I’ll bet the house she won’t know who you are by this time next year. She’ll vanish your knob before she comes near it. Pretty girls like her don’t go for gormless, ugly gits like you.”

Right where it hurts. He was that transparent, was he? And who was Tobias to call anyone else ugly? I hate you so much, Tobias.

“Do you ever shut up, Tobias? Or will you actually drop dead if you don’t shout at us? Can you not be a perfect arsehole for once in your life?”

They were nearly hook nose to hook nose, and there was nothing in either of their pairs of black eyes but hatred.

Tobias started undoing his new belt.

“Dinner is over,” he said with one of his special heinous smiles he saved just for his family, and as far as Severus was concerned, dinner could not end soon enough. Eileen hid her face behind her hands. “Don’t, Toby, please, I beg you. Let’s just eat,” she said. But since when did asking nicely get you anywhere in this house?

Severus was getting too big to kick around, but Eileen was getting smaller every year, if anything. Severus managed to run away with minimal damage, but his mother did not. She never even tried.

Moments later, Severus was in his mildewy room, listening to a symphony of plates breaking, Tobias shouting profanities, and the belt cracking.

Not one of your best ideas, Lily, he thought miserably, wondering if she was thinking about him at all.

He stayed awake, because he knew what was about to happen. Tobias would fall asleep and then he and his mother would finally have a moment of peace together. Since he was home, he figured he might as well ask her a few questions.

Sure enough, she quietly made her way to her son’s room as soon as Tobias started to snore.

“He’s a right bastard, you know that, right?” He asked her, as soon as she came in.

“You shouldn’t provoke him, Severus.” She struggled to make her way to his bed and sat with a wince. “I can’t help it, Mum. How can you let him treat you like that?”

“Never mind that now, love. Help your mum. You remember the healing spells you used last year, don’t you?” Severus nodded. “My clever boy. You’re a natural, you know.”

“Hmmm,” Severus grunted as he focused on performing the healing spells on his mother. He watched the swelling go down and the bruises melt away. There was a limit to what he could do with charms alone. If only he had some dittany or murtlap on him… Then you should have thought of that before you let Lily drag you into this miserable holiday.

Then his mother said, “All better. I’m glad you came home, Severus.”

“I ought to have fought him off you.”

“Don’t. I’m glad you didn’t. I’m proud of you. It hurts me more when he does it to you, you know that.”

She got up with effort; the bastard must have got her in places she didn’t want to let her son see.

“Are you going to go to a Muggle hospital, at least?”

“I don’t think so, no. I don’t like hospitals. I’ll be fine.”

He knew, he just knew, she was hiding something from him, and he’s had it. “Mum, I know why you can’t do magic.”

If she had any colour left in her face, she would have lost it there and then. “How?” She asked him, mortified.

“They have old Prophets at Hogwarts, you know.” She gulped. She remembered how the Prophet had told the story, and it was not good - ‘St. Mungo’s experimentalist Eileen Prince kills entire family on Christmas’, she believed, was the exact subtle wording they'd used.

“I’m sorry.” She said, choked up. “I should have told you sooner, Sevy, I’m sorry.”

There was only one thing Severus wanted to know. Well, two.

“If you did this, they deserved it. It’s just… how much worse can they be than him.” His head jerked in the direction of the snoring. “And why won’t you kill him, mum, I mean it.”

Her eyes were wet. Severus hadn’t seen her cry in years.

“They did not deserve it. They were wonderful. It was all my fault, Severus. I didn’t mean it.” She drew a laboured breath and wiped her eyes dry.

“Have you learned about Felix Felicis yet?” She asked him. The official curriculum hadn’t covered the lucky potion yet, but Severus knew what it was.

When she was done with her tale, her son understood everything.

*****

Sitting in the Headmaster’s office, Professor Severus Snape figured since it was almost Christmas, after all, he might as well use a Christmas memory to produce his Patronus. In his mind, he carefully avoided stepping on the landmines of memory that could extinguish even the strongest Patronus, and focused on Lily’s singing voice telling him that “it will drive Petunia crazy” and how she had kissed him on the cheek, and he sent the Doe Patronus to lead her son to the Sword.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Thoughts on Humans.”

QUESTION: Alright guys, I am asking for more ideas. I want you guys to send me questions and ideas about anything and everything you can think of. I am having a hard time coming up with things to write about, and I thought maybe it would be time to address your questions or interests about the universe that I have built so hopefully I can hash out some more interesting lore and what not, plus I would also hope that this will give me some ideas for good story arcs in the future as I seem to have hit a slump.

Would appreciate the help, thanks :)

The Texraki hurried down the hallway, their tails brushing against the ground as they moved towards the shuttle hanger. Stepping in the room, they paused, hardly expecting to see the Finnari huddled together in the center of the room.

They paused and then slowly inched forward.

“What are you doing here/” 

The Finnari lifted their blue/green scaled heads hands pressing together nervously, “We…. we were just waiting for the humans to return. We heard that something had happened down there and we were just waiting to make sure everyone was all right. Dr. Adric wants us to keep him updated.”

The Tesraki looked on to the FInnari with some measure of superiority. OT them the Finnari on the ship were nothing more than glorified pets for humans. THey didn’t seem to do anything useful other than offer hugs, which the Tesraki themselves didn’t see as particularly useful. Other humans claimed that they performed a very important function for the psych department aboard the ship, and that a few of them were particularly tech savvy, but the Tesraki had never seen them perform outside of a protective huddle, and so weren’t entirely sure that they had any use at all.

The Finnari for their part didn’t really understand the Tesraki use aboard the ship. Of course they knew what money was, theoretically, but had never bothered to use it considering their economic system was more about the trading of goods and services. In this way they sort of saw the Tesraki as greedy and overly involved in imaginative pursuits, especially once they were told that the Credit wasn’t actually supported by any ‘actual’ valuable metal.

They certainly did not expect to be joined a moment later as a small troop of rolling fluff entered the room from the left, and a black carapaced, bright winged burg entered on the right. They all stopped to stare at each other, the group of them never having been in a room together all at once.

The Celzex leader eyed them with some measure of suspicion and contempt, and the terasaki did the same back.

To everyone’s surprise, the burg stepped back as if trying to avoid getting into confrontation with the group of them.

Out of all the burg any of them had ever known, this particular male of the species did not much like conflict.

The Tesraki would have said something rather snide to the small rolling balls of fluff, if they weren’t quite sure that the little creatures could blast their entire solar system to dust. That was the thing, the Celzex acted all noble and powerful, but when it came right down to it they were no better than dust bunnies, easily punted across the room with a single blow. The only reason no one liked to piss them off was because of their powerful planet-destroying weapons.

In all truth they were generally just assholes. Small fluffy assholes, but assholes none the less.

The three groups of aliens stood together staring at each other with some measure of trepidation and annoyance.

Until, surprisingly, it was the burg who broke the silence, “A pleasure to see you all in the same place.” He turned to look at the Tesraki, his buggish eyes glittering in the light overhead, “You take care of the ship’s finances don’t you?”

Upon hearing the word finances, the Tesraki relaxed just a little. They were always willing to answer those sort of questions.

The Celzex remained rather sullen, but the burg pressed on, “how has that been going for you?”

The Tesraki snorted, there was certainly a lot to tell. Humans at their core were, generally, quite horrible with money.

Yes of course there were some humans who had proven themselves to be rather savvy, when it came to business, humans were just as accomplished in the world of economics as the Tesraki were on some measures, but that was only when talking about a very small majority of humans, a small majority of humans that certainly did not live on THIS ship. The Admiral himself was close to hopeless when it came to the management of money. Sure he knew how to save it, and to some extent, put it in the right places, but he hardly cared about it enough to get really creative like what was needed on a ship like this.

Humans liked to ignore extraneous and useless spending on parts and things that were not used or needed. Looking through their books, it was a total mess, and searching through their inventory proved stacks and stacks of things that they did not need, had never used, and weren’t likely to ever use ever, which could be cut  to save money for more important things, like better, and longer lasting parts for the ship.

It wasn’t all that hard, at least the Tesraki thought.

The Celzex listened with very little interest, only really paying attention because they were in the same vicinity. They did not really care about money one way or the other. If the Celzex wanted something, they would build it themselves. Of course they had to dabble in economics occasionally just because materials cost money, but it was generally something they only did grudgingly and with great and everlasting annoyance. To see and entier species that was dedicated to it was…. Surprising to say the least.

The Finnari on the other hand listened in fascination. They certainly through the  Tesraki had their priorities backwards, Money was cold and hard and didn’t really exist if one stopped and took the time to think about. It was sort of just an imaginary thing that everyone had gotten together and agreed on once upon a time. If everyone stopped agreeing on it and suddenly pretended it had no value, than the entire economy would collapse. The Finnari preferred to think about real things, and that being the people and the other aliens around them. But they were willing to listen since the Tesraki thought it was important, and the Finnari believed that it was always important to listen to someone when they were talking about things that were important to them.

The Burg, quietly sitting to the side and listening to the conversation found it all to be very interesting. What they did not know, what none of them knew was that they were connecting on the fundamental differences of their belief systems, belief systems that were almost religious in nature 

Out of sheer politeness, and a fear towards what the Celzex might do if they were offended, the Tesraki asked the Celzex how they were getting on with their work on the ship. In all reality, no one was really sure what the Celzex spent their days doing anyway.

They were about to find out as they received a very pompous lecture about how they had been maintaining and working on the weapons systems. Turns out that they spent most of their days crawling through the inner bowels of the ship and working on it from the inside out. The Tesraki shivered upon thinking of such a thing, but they supposed that to something as small as a Celzex none of that would really have been a problem.

“Humans are a dangerous creature to work beside, they are neither very good at making or maintaining their things.” The Celzex began, “sure they can make things that reach the desired end result, and do the things they are supposed to do, but most of the time you have to maintain them for years after because one wrong move could cause the thing to catch fire or blow up….. don’ t you find it strange and disconcerting that that is the end result of a lot of human technology. Take care of it, and maintain it because if even the littlest thing goes wrong it will probably catch fire or explode.” The Tesraki shook their heads sadly ears flopping about wildly, “The humans don’t know how to make things properly. They make things that have the desired effect, but in the hardest and most difficult to maintain way possible, and then when things start to fall apart, instead of replacing them with something better, they often just use a lot of sticky adhesive to put it back together until it inevitably breaks again.”

“I feel like that is an excellent metaphor to their personal lives.” A Finnari added, and the group turned to look at them as they shrugged, “I don’t think I have eer met a human who didn’t have something fundamentally wrong with the way they think or feel. Sure there are some humans who have something structurally or hormonally wrong with their brain which makes them perpetually nervous or upset, but even just regular humans have some serious issues they need to work through. There are humans who think that they cannot go to anyone for help, there are humans who think that no one cares about what they have to say, there are humans who think that there are certain topic they cannot talk about because no one would care if they did. Humans are all broken inside holding themselves together with thread and twine and poor coping skills. I think I have met maybe one human who seemed fully functional….. I think their inner lives and their interests and their diversity from each other is so complex that no one human can really go to any other human for perfect advise because they are so different.”

It was an interesting concept, and one that seemed true enough, they had all met humans and knew how strange they could be at times, and about different things.

In truth the burg who sat with them was beginning to notice a pattern.

His voice was quiet when he spoke, and the other aliens turned to look at him with some measure of curiosity. Not many of them had ever heard him speak, and he spent much of his days in the chapel, where none of them had any real reason to go, “I believe, perhaps that, humanity at its core seems to be second best at everything…. Have you noticed that?” The group frowned gathering around in confusion, “I meant think about it. Humanity is very accomplished with their money, but at the same time they are hardly equal to the Tesraki. Humans are good at fighting, but not in the way that Drev are. Humans are functional in both their machines and their minds,but in both cases they have to hold their function together with 

Lots of effort. Humans do not have the monopoly on a single thing, but on everything.”

They looked at him with a measure of interest.

“I think you will find that, spiritually, humans are the same. They aren’t as dedicated to their values and beliefs as the Burg, but no human can escape some sort of belief, even if it is an economic system, or a government or the lack of belief. Humans can’t even NOT believe without making it a system of belief.”

“Second best at everything…. That seems like a better deal than you make it out to be.”

“I never said it was a bad deal. I may not be a Rundi, but I know enough to see why humans have become one of the most powerful species in the GA. They are versatile and adaptable, and have the ability to connect with any other race in the galaxy just based on interests alone.”

That left the group of them in strict contemplation for a long moment.

“You…. how do you spend so much time with humans knowing they could kill you at any moment, perhaps on accident.”

“What do you mean?”

“What if a human accidentally sneezed on you. You would die wouldn’t you.”

“A sneeze might require hospitalization, but I doubt it would Kill me, as for what you really mean…. Don’t you worry the same thing?” He turned to look at all of them, “Don’t you ALL worry the same thing.” He glanced over at the Celzex, “You may be able to beat them with superior weapons power, but what if a human accidentally stepped on you, and crushed you to death. They are big enough that that could be a possibility.” Then he turned to look at the Finnari, “And you spend a lot of time with humans, who is to say tha"t one of these days a human will not just crush you to death or break your neck. If they can do it to each other, they can certainly do it to you. Humans are dangerous to all of us, so why are none of us more scared.”

“Well, that is because the humans like us.” one of the FInnari piped up.

The Tesraki nodded, and even the Celzex agreed to some extent.

“You never have to worry about a human once you are friends with them, assuming of course you are friends with stable humans, because once you are part of their pack, they will protect you from anything, even their own kind. Humans don’t just feel loyalty towards their own, they feel loyalty towards anything that has been with them a long time, or anything that shows them kindness. Humans can be loyal to inanimate objects if that object has some sort of value to the human. What we have done is make ourselves valuable to them, a part of their pack, and that is why we aren’t scared…. At least not most of the time.”

This got them into a topic of discussion about the nature of humans and their other strange quirks.

The Celzex painting out first and foremost how the humans seemed to have the need to name everything that they owned even if it did include inanimate objects, the biggest example being the omen.

The Tessraki extolled the virtues of betting and how they wished they had thought of it before it was brought into existence by the humans themselves.

Even the Burg stepped in to discuss some of the more interesting beliefs of the humans, most of which seemed widely unlikely but interesting all the same, and the Finnari were just interested to talk about some of the strange psychological behavior of humans.

Their nesting habits.

How humans tended to like to collect objects and so on and so forth.

It was only later that they even bothered to discuss why they were all here.

Something strange had happened, something strange had happened on the planet below, and they had all, separately come to make sure everything was ok.

It was very strange all told, very strange indeed.

That all of them would care so much for the humans that they would come to check. That was another interesting thing. Humans had the habit of getting under one’s skin and worming their way into ones mind. They could not be ignored, and they would not be forgotten, and no matter how hard you tried, they always seemed to have the ability to get themselves in your head.

Red lights began blinking at the edge of the room, and they all perked up, inching forward to see as human deck hands rushed from the shadows and towards the bay talking on their radios to each other rather frantically as the doors began to slide open with a slow beeping noise. There was as sharp hiss somewhere as the exterior airlock was compressed and then the doors opened up.

The floor rotated to pull the shuttle inward and as soon as it stopped, the doors were flung open and a gurney was pushed onto the deck.

The group of aliens huddled forward together in concern.

Dr Krill was barking orders, and to their surprise, Sunny, the big blue Drev was doing the same.

They hadn’t seen her in a while.

A few humans awkwardly stumbled out of the back looking dazed and confused, led by other humans that looked on the wrong side of shell shocked.

Krill turned and pointed to the Finnari, “You all, come here.”

They scampered over as told, and were immediately paired with one of the confused look humans, ordered to take them back to the medical bay as fast as they could without causing them any sort of agitation.

The Finnari gently took the humans by the hand and began leading them away.

The gurney was covered in a clear plastic bag, acting as a bubble. The last Finnari walked over and perched himself on one of the bed’s crossbars so he could see down to the human inside.

Admiral Vir lay there behind layers of protective plastic, eyes open and glassy. For a horrible moment the Finnari thought he wasn’t breathing, but the slow fogging of his breath against the clear surface was enough to relax the little creature.

He was alive, but he wasn’t doing to well.

The finnari reached forward  resting a hand on the human’s arm through the plastic as the doctors began to wheel them down the hallway.

This is what they had been worried about.

Something happening to their humans 

[vowled]

Unpopular Opinion: Johnlock edition

So, I am, as invariably suggested by my blog and username, a major Sherlock fan. I absolutely love it. The first time I watched it, I immediately related to it, and my peabag brain instantly saw a friend in John Watson. Sherlock’s character, on the other hand, was quite unconventional to me. I couldn’t bring myself to quite like him for the first 2 episodes. He was.....different. I knew I wanted to watch the series just for the dynamic duo and their and sweet friendship. The cases I couldn’t at first care for much, but eventually that changed too. I always was completely amazed by how well they had managed to adapt the series to the 21st century and their subtle winks to the original canon too was quite impressive. Eventually, I fell in love with it, and proceeded to watch the entire series thrice. in a row. I was, and still am, completely obsessed. 

Then came the thought, which was also somehow initially suggested subtly by the show itself, ” What if Sherlock and John are in Love?” I must agree, I had read too many conspiracy theories about certain celebs being closeted to not come up with that question. 

At first it was just a thought. But then, critical analyses on tumblr came up. I couldn’t stop reading them?! and so many of them were thought-provoking and persuasive and honestly, I was living for it. The phone = heart theory is still one of the best Theories I’ve read among all the fandoms I’ve ever been in. And that is just one among many. JohnLock was everywhere. Other ships were persistent, but none could reach the amount of fervor as JohnLock. And I was living for it too. I still really enjoy all the adorable fanfics and the ever-interesting theories, and honestly, at this point, my motto is “I’ll find homoerotic subtext even if it kills me”.

Shipping is ok, shipping is good. But here’s the deal we need to talk about:  we shouldn’t justify our ships to the point of interpreting every action as romantic. This propagates unrealistic expectations and results in harmful stereotypes.

Yes, I’m talking about the unending debate on Johnlock. 

From season one itself, Johnlock was phenomenal. It is widely argued that  the show-runners themselves inserted subtle hints, and hence, birthed this beast on their own. The Sherlock fandom remains one of the oldest fandoms in the world, with its beginnings rooted in the Nineteenth Century when ASiS was published, and since then many have argued about the latent homosexual subtext embedded into the writing, my point here being people have been shipping Johnlock for well over a hundred years. Hence, It’s not really a surprise that people are still drawn to this ship. But to be shipped by this magnitude of people? This invariably suggests that there’s material provided to us by the creators themselves that is very blatantly obvious about the relationship. And while in most cases shipping two characters is completely okay in itself, according to me, shipping Johnlock has further validation in the fact that there is proof of intent of it becoming canon eventually (at least in the first two seasons).

Like I said before, shipping is OK, shipping is good. 

But is shipping okay if we take it to the point of over-analysing every move?

Sherlock is a comfort character for me. God knows half of my maladaptive daydreams are about him being a father figure towards me. My entire twitter tl and Tumblr dashboard is stuffed with cutesy or angsty things about him, and that’s great! But being in the fandom for about eight months, I’ve realised how this sort of feed eventually resulted in me completely forgetting the original storyline, and more importantly, in me forgetting how flawed a character Sherlock is!

Everyone(including me, the first time) freaks out in HLV because of how Sherlock isn’t listed as John’s pressure point. I, however, think we should question ourselves: Why should John still consider Sherlock that tantalizingly close to himself as he was in the beginning? John learnt his best friend had died, and he decided to do the bravest thing he could: make peace with it and move on. BUT NO! The Ghost of the man who loved him returned from the grave to haunt him! Here I talk about the other possible reasons why Sherlock wasn’t a pressure point for John in HLV. 

I am tired of this constant sugarcoating of Sherlock’s character. I am tired of seeing constant posts about how Sweet and caring Sherlock is and how much he loves John and how he loved her more than Mary. I am done with over analysis of every single shot where Sherlock looks at John, completely done. This shot below? It’s been overused for so many fanfics and cheesy romantic lines that I forgot that it’s supposed to be a look of GUILT.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love sherlock so dearly because he’s a very unlikeable character. That is precisely what sets him so far apart from the other characters. Sherlock started off with a hateful and dismissive character, but through the course of the events he undergoes a lot of emotional development. And that is truly noteworthy. In TFP he said for Mycroft, “ He did the best he could (for Eurus)...” and that is truly sentimental. This sort of development is always heartwarming.

What I want people to understand is that Analysis is, obviously, important. And CRITICAL ANALYSIS more so. And it’s saddening to see so many people glossing over the critical part of the analysis. Why is it so wrong to point out HOW HURTFUL SHERLOCK’S ACTIONS TOWARDS JOHN HAVE BEEN?  Why is it wrong to to point out Johnlockers borderline bully other shippers? 

Can we finally talk about the problematic aspects of Johnlock, or rather Johnlockers?

Even though I’m relatively new to the fandom, I’ve noticed how dismissive people are of anything negative said about Sherlock. In the beginning, it was endearing, really; but now I see this pattern of constantly singing praises of Sherlock’s character, and it has lead me to realize how detrimental it can be to the relatively younger audiences. Sherlock is Rude, period. There’s no question about it. And this constant glorifying of his rudeness and arrogance and dismissing it as  a quirk could very well possibly give the impression that arrogance and vanity are in fact not so bad, and hell, it might make one seem a little cooler even ! Oh, don’t be mad if I act like my comfort character ! I’m quirky like that !

Constant bashing of the creators. And when I say constant, I mean it. This sort of bashing about is never-ending. And when I say this, I don’t mean that the creators were perfect; some of their mistakes were, quite frankly, blatantly ignorant ( like Irene the Canon Lesbian falling for Sherlock), but I don’t see enough people praising it for what it is. Even now there is so much slander against the creators ( and personally I feel bad for Mark Gatiss because he’s actually on twitter and is constantly spammed). Is it really a surprise that the creators hate the fans and especially the Johnlockers? Was it supposed to be so shocking when Martin said that being in the show wasn’t very fun anymore because of the fans?

We just don’t actually analyze anymore! I get that we haven’t got any new content for FOUR muheffing years but please I literally don’t see anything that’s actually interesting or analytical anymore and that kills me because that was the reason I joined this fandom- to read and comprehend the subtext, and the AMAZING META!  All I see are cute couple-ish pics of ben and Martin and tbh we can do so much better than that?!

Johnlockers have so much actual stuff to talk about? There is literally so much going on Subtextually, and yet all I see is people losing their mind over any interaction between Sherlock and John. This is so unfair! AND it’s detrimental too! With people painting every interaction as romantic in nature, the younger teenagers in this fandom who might not have experienced Love or Attraction may glean unrealistic ideas about them! It is difficult as it is to navigate oneself through romantic entanglements, let alone being fed such rose-colored ideas! And I say this because although I don’t know much about the audience on Tumblr, but Stan Twitter is like, (at least) 50 percent teenager-fuelled. It actually isn’t healthy for them at all.

Stop with the Benedict-worshipping for God’s sakes. Are you only in here because of him? We all get it, he’s absolutely stunning but come on, we’re here for the stories too right?

Romantic love is important, no doubt. But you know what’s completely overlooked? The platonic sort of love. And it’s tiring. Sherlock and Molly/Janine/Irene/John are all amazing duos and each pair has it’s own uniqueness and tang to it! Let’s not constantly dissect everything in the name of shipping, shall we?

lol looking back at it, I feel like it’s a vent rant for the prevailing circumstances on Stan Twitter. I apologize if anything I said hurt anyone, it wasn’t meant to. I completely understand that shipping people is for...recreation (?) but this was just my opinion. Let me know what you think about it!

[princeescaluswords]

1/2 Something that stood out to me from your last post was the whole idea that a beta can try to overthrow an alpha if they feel the alpha is no longer worthy, and how that is such a popular fanfic trope for some incomprehensible reason. This despite the fact that the only times we've seen it in canon it was unequivocally a Bad Thing. Marco attacking Deucalion after Gerard's ambush led to Deucalion going insane, Derek killing Peter turned him into the careless, power-obsessed alpha of S2,

2/2 and then Liam attacking Scott was his worst moment on the show. I just don't understand why fans are so keen to glorify it. Oh wait, they're using it against Scott. Now it all makes sense. (Sorry for the long ask, I had to vent.)

Venting is fine!   Considering the show’s been over for three years, most of my posts are about venting my frustration about things that probably mean very little to anyone but me.  Yet, we’re part of a community and that requires communication.  There is no need to apologize.

Your observations are very valid.  Our fandom is remarkably comfortable with the idea of murdering those who don’t believe as they do, even though that is a belief directly opposed by the themes of the show.   I once saw a post saying “we like our werewolves to be bloodthirsty beasts, not poodles who won’t kill.”  I refrained from responding -- “then perhaps you’re watching the wrong show.”   But, unsurprisingly, they do tend to focus this belief on a particular set of characters.

The show made a clear statement that executions and murder do not comprise the path to victory.  Derek’s murder of Peter in Code Breaker (1x12) was the first time the production pointed out “Here is the villain for next season!”  Now, of course, detractors would scream that Scott also wanted to kill Peter, yet I don’t consider him evil.  Scott wasn’t trying to punish Peter or usurp him; he was trying to reclaim his life, even though I truly believe that the cure was a lie that Derek used to get Scott to help him track down the alpha, just like how he hid the fact that he wasn’t the person who bit Scott to get Scott to help him track down Peter.  No matter how this is seen, it doesn’t change the fact that all of the trouble in Season 2 came from revenge killing, whether it was Peter killing Kate or Derek killing Peter.  

And then there was Marco’s assault, which was shown as vile treachery and a bad enough action to push Deucalion into pursuing a blood-soaked vision of the perfect pack.  (It’s really intriguing that the same fans who are willing to give Peter’s butchery a complete pass because he burned with his family will scream about Scott and Derek not executing the Demon Wolf who was ambushed, his pack murdered along with him, and then betrayed. Could it be because Deucalion wasn’t the least bit interested in their self-insert? I think so.) 

And then, of course, there’s Liam.  In this, the fandom and the show unite as one in their sheer embrace of violence as an expression of disapproval.  How many Thiam stories do more than skim past the idea that Liam and Theo worked together to murder Scott?  Theo certainly didn’t do it by himself.   Yet then they turn around and act as if it’s something that Scott, when he sees Liam and Theo canoodling, just has to get over.   After all, if Scott were a better alpha, Liam wouldn’t have had to beat him to death.  (And yes, that’s not a grammatical error.  Liam bears just as much responsibility for that as Theo does.)  

Now, of course, my detractors are going to come back with the fact that I write  Sceo works, and my defense is that, unlike the freaking show, I prioritize Scott’s feelings in this scenario as the victim.  Victims get to say if they forgive their victimizers or not.   The show neglected this by having Liam focus his non-apology entirely on making himself feel better.  (Jeff Davis missed one of the key parts about apologies -- they’re about the person hurt, not the person doing the hurting).  You know why I can say this?  Because while Liam was beating his breast over “I feel like I have to do more than just apologize,” he never once bothered to ask if Scott was, like, feeling okay or not.  He was so fixated on crafting an apology in order to be able to live with himself, he forgot that there was another person involved.

But most of the fandom doesn’t act as if Liam has anything for which he has to apologize.  No matter how obvious the show made it that Liam was being nudged to kill Scott by Theo, the fact that Liam felt Scott was incompetent was enough.  There’s no fan fiction about consequences for Liam’s mistake, no endless supply of opinions about what Liam deserved for believing Theo over Scott.  Compare that with the consequences envisioned for Scott’s mistake in believing that his paranoid, violent, best friend was lying to him right after he caught him in another lie.   

Are you surprised?  You shouldn’t be.  The fandom has long directed violence towards Scott without remorse.   Derek is given a pass for his assault on Scott in Co-Captain (1x10), in Ice-Pick (2x03), and in Venomous (2x05), because Scott ‘deserved’ it, but Scott is condemned to figurative Judecca, the circle of hell for those who betrayed their benefactors, for grabbing him by the neck and forcing him to Bite Gerard -- an act which saved Derek’s life -- and was forced at kanima point.  

So why not double down in fandom content?  If an alpha -- even an eighteen-year-old alpha who was dragged into being both a werewolf and an alpha -- is incompetent, whack him!   (No one argues that Scott should have butchered Derek for his flops, and so many argue that Peter should be an alpha again, even after he repeatedly got his ass kicked by a bunch of teenagers. Liam is going to be a great alpha, especially after he broke Kira’s sword in order to get Theo to tell him that ... hey, Nazis are bad.)  In this fandom, justified violent overthrow is reserved solely for the Latino protagonist/hero.   Derek, Peter, Liam, Stiles can hurt Scott as much as they want, because you know, he deserves it.

But it’s not racism.

[letsperaltiago]

write your story on my heart: come on and make your mark

In the safety of his mom's hoodie Mac Santiago-Peralta quickly learns that his parents are quite alright if not his favorite people in this big, scary world.

or

the skin to skin-contact oneshot no one asked for 🤔

read on ao3

“One last push! You’re doing so good, honey.”

The second his powerhouse of a wife delivers her last push, fully welcoming the newest addition to their family into the world and the safety of his auntie Roro’s hands, Jake feels his entire cosmos shift and turn upside down. It’s a transition, a feeling he thought the million hours of googling and studying parenting books had prepared him for, only now realising that there is no such thing as being prepared for this very moment.

No book, binder, higher power or even the tangled depth of some Reddit-forum he’d once found could possibly have prepared him for the immense, indescribable joy he experiences rushing through every cell of his body when he hears the first, notably loud cries of his son.

Loud cries are a good sign: it means he has strong lungs, Jake remembers.

“Jake,” he’s snapped out of his reverie by the sound of Amy’s breathy whimpers. Surely she’s more than exhausted after pushing a human out of her. “He’s-” she interrupts herself when she heaves resulting in her knocking her head back against the pillow to gain a breath, meanwhile her eyes search Jake’s face for some kind of conclusion.

The strong urge to take care of them both at the same time, his son and his wife, is tearing him in two separate directions. Although he does quickly settle on turning to Amy. He knows and trusts that his newborn is safe in Rosa and, he shudders a bit at the thought, he has to admit, the fire-fighters care when he sees said glorified EMT is checking his son’s condition.

One last time, he comes to realise this will be, he immerses himself in the feeling of being just the two of them; to have eyes only for her because soon, even though he doesn’t mind one bit, his heart will officially be shared with someone else.

“Yeah, he’s here, babe. He’s here,” he lets out in an euphoric mixture of a breath, smile and sniffle as he leans in to kiss his wife’s forehead. Beneath his touch he can feel her trembling from the adrenaline, still very much red and sweaty but oh, how she’s never been more beautiful to him, and although it’s a very close second, not even clad in white on their wedding day.

His lips stay plastered there for a few seconds but somehow feels like an eternity put into slow-motion. Yes, he knows he could be attending so many other, more useful, matters, but there’s no resisting the overwhelming pride he’s currently feeling knowing his incredible wife once again, this time more than ever, has proven to be the superhero he’s always known her to be.

“You did it,” he exclaims joyously through the cry threatening to crawl up and out of his throat once his lips slip off of her skin. From his new vantage point, having pulled back the slightest, he can tell she’s crying along to the sound of their son’s furious wails, and he can’t blame her. It’s paradoxical: somehow the most beautiful and heartbreaking sound he’s ever heard.

“You’re so incredible, Ames,” the words come spilling out of his moth hopped up on adrenaline which results in them stumbling over each other but he doesn’t care. She needs to know how amazing she is.

As intimate as an interrogation room containing their best friend and some random firefighter can be, their moment runs out the second the firefighter lets them know that their baby is perfectly healthy and gently places him stomach down, wailing at the top of his lungs, on Amy’s still heaving chest. Alongside this the two freshly baked parents stare in disbelief: they created this little and so very wanted human who’s now finally, after 9 months of pregnancy and even longer time spent wanting and trying, screaming into the soft fabric of Amy’s hoodie.  

Amy’s hand are immediately drawn in, rushing to cup the tiny being in her hands, one supporting his bottom meanwhile the other his head. It’s all so much: the soft surface of his skin, the vibration coming from his screaming, and more importantly healthy, lungs resonate against hers making everything that more and finally completely real. Every ultrasound scanning, all the fluttering kicks from inside her womb and even the contractions: this kind of real beats everything prior to this moment.  Her son is really here, in flesh and blood, resting against her chest instead of bundled up inside her womb.

“He’s amazing,” she lets out with a sob as she attempts to study Mac’s every feature.

“He sure is,” Jake is quick to chime in placing a hand on his son’s back before leaning in to kiss the tiny head tenderly, of course keeping in mind the fragility of a newborn’s skull, something all the baby books have told him about. He then looks backs to his wife and kisses her lips.

Her crying almost sabotages her ability to kiss him back, but she stables herself just enough by moving a hand to rest on her husband’s cheek and then it hits her like never before that she’s currently, right then and there, holding her entire world in her hands: Jake in one and their son in the other.

McClane Santiago-Peralta. Mac.

He’s a perfect 9 pounds and 21 inches, they’re later told at the hospital; he’s soft, pink and brand new; he’s here and he’s their son.

Caught up in what feels like her life’s biggest whirlwind of a moment, kissing her husband and holding her screaming newborn, she faintly make out Rosa and the firefighter telling them they’re going to leave them alone for a while to go meet the incoming ambulance and and actual EMTs.

Jake and Amy pull apart as the door closes and encapsulates their new little family of three in the interrogation room.

“I love you so much, Jake,” she smiles both with her lips and deep brown eyes which radiate so much joy through the tears that it makes Jake shed a tear too when he tell her “I love you too. So much.”

Their attention shifts back to Mac quietly whimpering for attention having only been partly soothed by his mother’s hold and is still very much upset with the fact he’s been thrown right into such a big, bright world without warning.

“And I love you too, my baby Mac,” she coos in addition to her declaration of love as she lets go of Jake’s face to hold her still naked, probably very hungry and cold son even closer.

Although Amy without a doubt had the birthing suite Hitchcock and Scully had built her to thank for making the birth surmountable, it wasn’t exactly destined to do what it was doing right now meaning that a lack of heat was noticeable.

“Shhh, yes, I know,” she strokes the top of his head in an attempt to comfort the whimpering bundle, “it’s all so big and scary out here, but we’ll make sure you’re okay. We got you.”

Mac’s cries have definitely quieted down, lost momentum, since first appearing in their world just minutes ago but he’s still very clearly voicing discontent and Amy can feel her brand new mom-heart bleed. She mentally turns over every page of every baby book she’s ever read furiously trying to find a solution to her son’s crying and discomfort.

“Your mom’s right, bud. No need to cry. We’re here with you,” Jake bends over the gap between him and the stretcher, down to his son’s eye level as if it’ll convince him to calm down only to comprehend that a newborn probably doesn’t care about his father’s promises. Mac is a man of actions not words.

“Jake,” Amy whimpers hit by realisation, so suddenly set on one thing and one thing only and it of course immediately gains her her husband’s full attention. “Help me put him on my chest.”

A look of confusion dawns on Jake as they share a look, Amy’s eyes pleading for him to understand.

“But Ames, that’s where he already is?”

“No, like on my actual chest. Skin to skin-contact, Jake.”

It comes out matter of factly and memories of many textbook pictures of cute, tiny babies lying against their mother’s bare chest right after birth come rushing back to Jake instantly replacing his confusion.

“Oh yes, that, right! Of course.”

She briefly pauses to think although its hard when her train of thoughts is very much controlled by the worry growing within her every time Mac lets out another loud whine or cry. At least he’s on top of something soft, she thinks in an attempt to reassure herself when looking down at him and her now very messy, gooey NYPD-hoodie and then, all out of the blue, it hits her: the messy but soft and warm NYPD-hoodie. Beneath it she’s only wearing her maternity bra (she’d started wearing them already months ago once her boobs had grown too big for her regulars once: also they were way more comfortable) so surely her idea was worth the try.

“He could probably fit into my hoodie,” she wonders or rather declares out loud. Her son needs somewhere warm and safe, so, regular procedure be damned.

“I mean,” Jake studies the features of the grey piece of clothing, “it’s quite big and if you just tug down the neck whole he could probably fit in there with you.”

So they give it a try.

While Jake momentarily takes possession of his son, immediately tearing up again at the very surreal feeling of holding life, which he’s created, for the first time, Amy unclasps and removes her soft bra. In terms of the last step she tugs open, as wide as physically possible, the neck hole of her hoodie to welcome her son. It’s not pretty nor graceful but the hoodie is indeed really big (especially now that Mac is no longer in her womb) and together they manage to carefully place him to rest against his mother’s skin and under the soft material of the hoodie, only his head, under Amy’s, emerging from the neck hole. They hold their breaths for a second, both internally begging for their invention to be enough to soothe their son completely.

Amy instantly feels better knowing she’s sharing her bodily heat with her son, and, even more rewarding is the fact that it also seems to pay off: after a few more whimpers, slowly fading into barely audible sniffles, a silence lastly settles over them.

From where he’s resting chest to chest, skin to skin, with his mother, Mac finally, for the first time in his life, seems fully content and settles for dozing off as the easiest way to handle being completely knocked out by the intensity of being born.

Jake and Amy exchange a surprised, having feared the worst outcome since today already had followed a certain chaotic discourse, but ecstatic look as all there is left to be heard is the sound of approaching ambulance sirens.

“This feels incredible,” she speaks quietly in an attempt to not disrupt her son’s newfound state of peace, checking on him once more to make sure he’s not being squished by her chin, and although this time there’s fabric creating a barrier between her palms and his skin, she allows her fingers to fall into a sweeping motion across the tiny frame.  

“It looks incredible,” Jake whispers back not believing his own eyes because the scene currently playing out in front of him sure can’t be real. It’s too good, something he years ago wouldn’t even dare to dream of, and although he doesn’t want to be that person, he wants to live in the present, Jake can’t fight the urge to grab his phone and snap a picture, just one that he can make his lock screen picture the second he has a minute to do so. For now he figures it’s enough and puts his phone back into his pocket allowing him to lean in and join his wife in caressing their son.  

“Always told you you look crazy good in hoodies,” he smirks knowingly thinking of all the times he’s told her this only to be met by disagreement and dismissive comments before pecking her temple tasting small beads of sweat, salt, on his lips.

“Even now covered in placenta?” her exhausted eyes manage to throw him a teasing look ahead of redirecting to admiring Mac’s beautiful, finally peaceful being. Jake’s eyes trail behind, staying on her with the most loving look when he utters, “especially now covered in placenta,” before following her lead and looking at Mac.

The sirens from before have faded, disappeared, letting the new parents know that the ambulance must’ve reached the precinct. Despite this fact, they forget and enjoy the quiet before the storm, their first peaceful moment as a family.

All in all Mac seems pleased with his new favorite spot on his mom’s chest. Even as she holds him a bit tighter, securing him to her chest when she’s wheeled out of the integration room by a newly arrived EMT, Jake right beside her to make sure they’re alright every step of the way, Mac doesn’t budge; even in the ambulance when one of her hands leaves his back to hold Jake’s while the sirens make an encore, Mac stays quiet.

This might not be his mother’s womb but he knows he’s home.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Is It Really THAT Bad?

The DC films have been a mixed bag, to put it lightly. As of 2020, for every fun and enjoyable superhero film like Wonder Woman, Shazam, Aquaman, and Birds of Prey, there has been a film that was reviled or polarizing. Dawn of Justice and Justice League are both common punching bags, but there is one movie that stands out as the single most despised film in the DC cinematic universe so far:

Suicide Squad.

A lot of this comes from just how unashamedly blatant the film is at being a rushed cash in on the type of quirky superhero movie that Guardians of the Galaxy helped popularize: a bunch of wild and wacky antiheroes team up, fight a big problem, make one liners, and become a family, all while an awesome soundtrack blares in the background. It seems like the easiest thing in the world to rip off, but there’s a lot of heart and charm in Guardians that it’s not easy to replicate. And if you ask most critics… this movie did not.

Opinions on the film tend to range from lukewarm to outright hating, with IHE and the [REDACTED] Critic all throwing in their two cents. Perhaps the most damning review of all came from Mick LaSalle, who wrote:

“If you know someone you really can’t stand — not someone you dislike, not someone who rubs you the wrong way, but someone you really loathe and detest — send that person a ticket for “Suicide Squad.” It’s the kind of torment you can wish on your worst enemy without feeling too guilty: not something to inflict permanent damage, just two hours of soul-sickening confusion and sensory torment.”

There’s not much love for this, is what should be abundantly clear. And it’s really a shame, because there is stuff this film has going for it, but it wasn’t really enough to stop DC from basically hitting the soft reboot button and snagging the actual James Gunn to make a sequel while also doing their best to downplay that the events of this film actually happened. But now with a few years of hindsight, I have to go back and wonder like the heathen I am…

Is Suicide Squad REALLY that bad?

THE GOOD

Yes, amazingly, there is some good stuff here, mostly to do with the casting. At least half the cast is just pitch perfect for their roles. Famous rapper and YouTube Rewind star Will Smith as Deadshot is, of course, one of the standout examples; he brings a lot of charm and charisma to his role of an assassin who really loves his daughter, but then again, this is Will Smith. It’s hard not to love the guy in anything he does. Viola Davis as Amanda Waller is another inspired bit of casting, and she truly owns the role, and Jai Courtney is perhaps the most consistently enjoyable member of the Squad, Captain Boomerang, the exact sort of stupid D-list villain who SHOULD be getting screentime in a movie like this.

Of course, the very best bit of casting is Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn, in Harley’s big screen debut. Robbie has such an enthusiasm for the role that shines through even with the clunky script, and while she would definitely improve her craft for her outing in Birds of Prey, her performance here still has that spark of zany fun that Harley needs, cementing Robbie as the perfect star for the role. Frankly, that’s the feeling that can be gathered from a lot of these really good performances; they’re good, but they lack proper refinement, and so are stuck spouting the stupidest, corniest, clunkiest lines imaginable. But yes, really the worst thing you can say about Harley in this film is that her outfit is absolutely atrocious and demeaning.

While we’re on the subject of Harley Quinn, tough… while the whole situation with the Joker is something I’ll get to shortly, I think their relationship in this film is actually done well in many aspects. I’ve always preferred the original idea of “Mad Love” over the glorified domestic abuse that Joker x Harley has often devolved into, and while there is a bit of the latter, the fact that Joker literally goes out of his way to save Harley at every opportunity to the point he’s a definition satellite love interest is really good. Of course, this was thrown out for Birds of Prey, but I do think it worked in the context of this film.

Of course, we all know that the greatest aspect of this film is REALLY Slipknot, the single most powerful member of the Squad. I’ve already written an entire Psycho Analysis on why he’s the greatest villain in the history of cinema, so just read that for the rundown on how our man Slipknot climbs his way into your heart and mind.

THE BAD

So there is just a lot to go over here.

First, there’s the soundtrack’s implementation. As a blatant Guardians ripoff, everything the characters do needs to be punctuated by some sort of awesome music to tie the scene together. The difference is that where in the Guardian movies the soundtrack is used as a storytelling tool to help subtly emphasize points that the narrative doesn’t want to spell out for you, Suicide Squad just has these songs because they’re cool and because Guardians did it. Why is “Black Skinhead” playing while Deadshot tests his weapon skills? Why is “House of the Rising Sun” playing during Waller talking about the Squad? What exactly do these songs add besides background music? The opening montage of everyone in the Squad is particularly bad because the songs are just switching up really quickly as the montage goes along, which echoes a complaint I had about Little Nicky, of all films: “One of the more noticeable problems is the usage of music; in the course of one single scene, they play four different songs, and all of this is in a span of about one or two minutes. Just pick a song and stick to it for fuck’s sake!” About the only song that is really properly utilized is “Heathens,” which plays over the (admittedly cool) credit sequence.

Now let’s get into the characters, because for every awesome character in this film, there’s two that just absolutely suck or are so underutilized it’s laughable. Probably the worst case of this is Killer Croc, who despite being a stunning practical effect and probably the reason this film scored an Oscar, does pretty much nothing for the entire film, save for a short bit in the ending where he swims. You’d be entirely forgiven for forgetting he’s in the film, which is not something you should be saying about a Batman villain of this caliber.

Katana and Diablo are both characters who should be awesome, but the story givers them nothing to do and rushes their character arcs, respectively. Katana is yet another character you’d probably forget is there, even though she has a lot of fascinating elements to her character (some of which are detailed in her infamous introduction, which don’t worry, I’m working towards it), but nothing is really done with her. Diablo is actually one of the best and most fleshed-out characters in the film, but the narrative just completely fails to justify him or his ultimate heroic sacrifice; by the end, he claims the Squad is like family, but they’ve never really done anything to earn this. Like, think to the ending of Guardians of the Galaxy, where we have moments like Drax standing up for Gamora and Groot sacrificing himself. These moments only work because the characters had their relationships built up over the course of the movie so that there is a punch when these things happen. Suicide Squad really just throws it in just to have it.

Then we come to our villain. Enchantress is yet another villain I once detailed on Psycho Analysis, and my opinion on her remains unchanged. While she most certainly has a cool design, she is absolutely not the sort of world-ending supernatural threat a team of snarky jackasses should be fighting on their first mission together. The Squad should have had a mission more grounded in reality, and that can’t happen when you have an ancient interdimensional witch causing a Luddite zombie apocalypse through the power of interpretive dance. There’s also the fact that there’s never really any reason given to care about the character of June Moon, the host of the Enchantress, so the desperation of Rick Flag (a character so boring and pointless I didn’t even waste time mentioning him before) to save her comes off as hollow as most of the movie’s other emotional moments. Overall, Enchantress is just a boring generic doomsday villain who feels wildly out of place in the story and just doesn’t do anything to make herself stand out.

Then we have Joker.

I’m not really going to get into Jared Leto’s obnoxious behind-the-scenes antics, because that has little bearing on his performance, kind of like how his performance has little bearing on the film. As I mentioned before, this Joker is nothing more than a satellite for Harley. This is probably a good thing, because despite being called Joker he’s pretty divorced from most other interpretations; while he plays up the thuggish, brutish elements the Joker does typically have, everything else about him is just so jarringly non-Joker as to be laughable, from his ridiculous grill to the absolutely cringeworthy “Damaged” tattoo on his forehead. I wouldn’t go quite so far as to say he’s the worst villain in a superhero movie ever as some have, mostly because he’s not even in the film long enough to leave much of an impact. I will, however, say that so far he is the absolute worst onscreen depiction of Joker in film. Once again, if you’d like to hear more of my in-depth thoughts on Leto’s portrayal, I did make a Psycho Analysis on him a while back.

But all that aside, the worst aspect of this film is the writing. The writing is just utterly abysmal throughout, and while there are a few good lines sprinkled here and there, a lot of the dialogue is cringeworthy and the story itself is a convoluted mess. The story takes so many nonsensical turns from the get-go, starting with how Amanda Waller thinks a bunch of non-superpowered criminals could take down a metahuman threat; what the hell is Killer Croc, whose only power is “being an ugly cannibal,” going to do against Superman? That’s like if you put Leatherface up against a Predator, who would be stupid en-

...Oh. Right. Well, if nothing else, Amanda Waller has a very bright future as a designer for Mortal Kombat games. Beyond that, as mentioned above, a lot of the characters simply exist and serve little purpose in the narrative, and the ones that do serve a purpose are underplayed unless they’re Deadshot or Harley. You’d think Diablo’s tragic backstory and desire to have a family or Flag’s desire to save June from her curse would be more major elements, but nah. We don’t get much, if any, development on these fronts. And for the dialogue… well, I think this one speaks for itself:

Is It Really THAT Bad?

So I’ve been pretty hard on this film overall, I think, but here’s the shocking twist: I don’t think this is the worst DC movie. Frankly, I find the claims that this is the bottom of the barrel in terms of superhero films a gross overexaggeration. F4ntastic and The Amazing Spider-Man 2 are far and away worse films with little to no redeeming qualities whatsoever in them. At the very least, Suicide Squad is a fun kind of stupid, whereas those movies are bleak, miserable slogs that fail to even try and engage the viewer on any level.

And then, even within the DC movie lineup, I would not say this is worse than Dawn of Justice. Dawn of Justice has a more coherent story, and it in a general sense has better writing, dialogue, and so on… but it isn’t fun, it’s overly long, it’s incredibly pretentious, and it absolutely squanders the coolest concept for a crossover fight that there ever could be, all while giving us a Lex Luthor who is an obnoxious, whiny, sniveling brat who is utterly unbelievable as a threat. Suicide Squad almost seems within the ballpark of being self aware that it’s stupid schlock, and I find that infinitely more respectable than a film that, regardless of its artistic merit, thinks it’s deep and meaningful when it is anything but.

Suicide Squad is firmly on the side of “So bad it’s good,” and even within that category it’s somewhat underrated. I don’t necessarily think this film needs more respect per se, but I feel like it falls into the same category as movies like The Emoji Movie, where it isn’t good by any means but people will rant and rave about how it’s destroying cinema by being apocaliptically bad instead of just saying it’s crappy and moving on with their lives. Like this isn’t a great movie, but at least there’s a couple of enjoyable things, and superhero movies have been through far worse. Its current score of 6 on IMDB is honestly pretty fair. Is it spectacular? No. Could you be watching something way better. Definitely. But is it a trashy, idiotic romp with some good actors and some fun performances in a story so mind-bogglingly dumb that it needs to be seen to be believed? Hell yes.

[noxtms]

AFTER THE OVERNIGHT SUCCESS of rita skeeters second biographical novel, the boy who lived & other tragic tales, the audacious blonde tells us here at the prophet that she very briefly considered fading into anonymity. ”it was the perfect time,” she admits, that charming smile never fading, “and my publisher certainly would have had me do it. get out at the height of it, rita, and leave them ALWAYS wanting more. that’s what he told me, and that was the plan. put down the quill. move to france. write... travel blogs, maybe, for the rest of my days.” she LAUGHS, and it’s difficult not to laugh with her. the image of this woman ever leaving down that iconic peacock quill is laughable. “but you know better than anyone : once i get a hint of a story that needs to be told, there is nothing, not even that desire for sandy beaches and endless sunshine alongside a strong cocktail, that can pull me away from it. and that is what this is. ‘SEVERUS SNAPE: SWAN SONG’ might be, perhaps, my own... i won’t say. but it is also a story that deserved to be told.”

WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE :  

rita skeeter’s book launch, being held on june 10th, 2020, includes a questions and answers panel at flourish and botts ( please clear your questions with miss skeeters publicity team in advance ), after party in the leaky cauldron ( booked out entirely for the event ) & discounts and special treats in shops all along diagon alley itself ( madam malkin’s is giving out imitations of miss skeeters iconic spectacles, amanuensis quills is providing quality peacock quills at a 20% discount and fortescue’s ice cream parlour promises your ice cream, free, if you promise you didn’t purchase and don’t plan on purchasing a copy - unrelated to the event, but they’ll never know if you lie ! ). 

to date, she has now written three books : 

the life & lies of albus dumbledore : a tell all exposé on albus dumbledore and his young life, that ‘stripped away the popular image of serene, silver bearded wisdom, revealing a disturbed childhood, lawless youth, lifelong feuds and guilty secrets carried to his grave’.

the boy who lived & other tragic tales : a biographical book claimed to be the true life stories of a number of the victims of the battle of hogwarts ( among them fred weasley, padma patil, colin creevey, remus lupin, vincent crabbe and, for some reason, cedric diggory ) but focusing a frankly INNAPROPRIATE amount upon harry potter himself. rita had initially been intending on writing a biography for him along until her publisher convinced her otherwise, but some of her ‘hot takes’ could be pried from her cold dead hands. it sit on the bestseller list in england and america for several weeks.

severus snape, swan song : another biographical book, the blurb of which reads ‘severus snape was known by many as the ill temptered and largely unliked potions master at hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. his highly publicized role in the death of albus dumbledore and his brief period as headmaster at the aforementioned school during the time it was run largely by the dark lords most loyal followers painted a narrative of a man dedicated to the wrong sides cause : but what if i were to tell you that despite the story spun all these years... we were wrong? through the lens of severus snape’s own ( verified ) memories, i, rita skeeter, bring you a new narrative. one of a boy raised in a volatile home in spinners end, a teen who made a mistake, a young man who lost the love of his life... and a war wearied individual who tried his whole life to save her son, and played the role of villain so that no one else had to.’

OUT OF CHARACTER:

she’s sure gone and done it now ! rita skeeter has proven to be quite the master of dropping bombshell level books when the wizarding community least expects them, and let me confirm what i’m sure you’re all wondering, right off the bat : she really HAS revealed severus snapes life story to the wizarding world, with this new book of hers. rita’s unregistered animagus form came in CLUTCH, for her, as she fell into possession of memories that were lost in the cleanup of the war ( and subsequently verified by the ministry of magic themselves, papers confirming which will be released through the prophet on the morning of her surprise book release ). memories that harry potter watched before heading off to the forbidden forest. memories that changed everything : told him the real role he was to play, exposed the truth about severus snapes role in everything, and revealed just how far albus dumbledore went in his striving to defeat the dark lord. i know. it’s a doozy ! 

 rita skeeter now possesses the most valuable information of all, and unfortunately for everyone, she hasn’t kept her big mouth shut : though colored by the vapid voice she employs to write her greatest hits, the information is now out in the world. public opinion is naturally going to shift on severus snape as more and more people read / hear about her work, but since the book is heavily biased against dumbledore, opinions are going to change there, too - and many might begin assigning to the idea of one man being an unsung hero, while the other was an over glorified VILLAIN. the only person getting off easy is harry potter, who of course, is just yet another tragic sidenote. 

the event is beginning NOW ( june 15th ) and will end in a week, or there abouts - the end date might change based on wider involvement, but you’ll be informed in advance if it does !

for the purpose of the event, i’ve set up a sideblog @skeetertms - you read it right ! rita skeeter herself is making an appearance, and her open starter is right here for you to reply to if you so choose ! depending on how fun it is, and whether i can come up with a good reason to justify it, she might be sticking around a while past the event - we’ll see ! 

the book release ( including the early morning q & a session, the late night party at the leaky cauldron where there will be live music, an open bar and free food & of course, the wider event upon diagon alley ) is an open event, meaning that while press was invited, everyone else is just sort of.. turning up. your character might just stumble upon it, while on diagon alley. they might genuinely want to be there, as a fan of rita skeeters work. really, it’s up to you - but given the fact this is not an intensive event, you are more than welcome to continue your older threads in addition to starting new ones ! 

speaking of event starters : they should be tagged as nox.event003 ! the location is diagon alley, but feel free to specify where ! 

if you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to message the main ! please reply to this post with ‘beetle’ once you’ve read it ! 

[bazz-b]

THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all had witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

MUN NAME: Thomas/Tom     AGE: +25       CONTACT: IM, Ask, Discord

CHARACTER(S): Bazz-B, King Baraggan Louisenbairn, Kurosaki Ichigo, Ichibei Hyosube

CURRENT FANDOM(S): Bleach

BLEACH FANDOM(S) YOU HAVE AN AU FOR:  I have an ATLA and LOK AU for Bazz-B, but no Bleach AUs for external muses

MY LANGUAGE(S): Passable Japanese, Survivable Italian, Fluent English

THEMES I’M INTERESTED IN FOR RP: FANTASY / Science fiction / Horror / WESTERN / ROMANCE / Thriller / MYSTERY / DYSTOPIA / ADVENTURE / MODERN / Erotic / Crime / MYTHOLOGY / Classic / HISTORY / RENAISSANCE / MEDIEVAL / Ancient / WAR / FAMILY / POLITICS / RELIGION / SCHOOL / ADULTHOOD / CHILDHOOD / APOCALYPTIC / GODS / Sport / MUSIC / Science / FIGHTS / ANGST / Smut / DRAMA / etc. (what Bazz-B wants is reflected in italics)

PREFERRED THREAD LENGTH: one-liner / 1 para / 2 PARA / 3+ / NOVELLA.

ASKS CAN BE SEND BY: MUTUALS / NON-MUTUALS / PERSONALS / ANONS.

CAN ASKS BE CONTINUED?:   YES / NO    only by Mutuals?:  YES / NO.

PREFERRED THREAD TYPE: CRACK / casual nothing too deep / SERIOUS / DEEP AS HECK.

IS REALISM / RESEARCH IMPORTANT FOR YOU IN CERTAIN THEMES?:   YES / NO.

ARE YOU ATM OPEN FOR NEW PLOTS?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS.

DO YOU HANDLE YOUR DRAFT / ASK - COUNT WELL?:  YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. (usually but I need to catch up at the moment)

HOW LONG DO YOU USUALLY TAKE TO REPLY?: 24H / 1 WEEK / 2 WEEKS / 3+ / months / years. /DEPENDS ON MOOD AND INSPIRATION, AND IF I’M BUSY I

I’M OKAY WITH INTERACTING: ORIGINAL CHARACTERS / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / MY FANDOM / CROSSOVERS / MULTI-MUSES / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / CANON-DIVERGENT PORTRAYALS / AU-VERSIONS.

DO YOU POST MORE IC OR OOC?: IC / OOC.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WITH FOLLOWING OTHERS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.  

BEST WAYS TO APPROACH YOU FOR RP/PLOTTING:  You can IM me or send an ask, but the tumblr messaging systems SUCK so I encourage y’all to add me on discord and then just go ham. I’ll only turn down a plot if it’s OOC for Bazz-B, but otherwise I’ll usually try anything. If it’s not working out I’ll typically let you know, but I’m game for most things.

WHAT EXPECTATIONS DO YOU HOLD TOWARDS YOUR PLOTTING PARTNER:  Honestly, not a lot. You can be as invested or as chaotic as works for you. You get the urge to suddenly write a specific theme? Hit me with it. The urge goes and you lose interest, that’s fine. Four weeks later and the muse hits you again LETS DO THIS.

WHEN YOU NOTICE THE PLOTTING IS RATHER ONE-SIDED, WHAT DO YOU DO?:  I don’t typically struggle with this issue. If anything, I’m the lackluster end of the plotting side. I typically run things through Bazz-B as their happening, rarely looking forward. Unless there’s an overarching story we’re specifically working towards I’m pretty weak sauce. Sorry people!

HOW DO YOU USUALLY PLOT WITH OTHERS, DO YOU GIVE INPUT OR LEAVE MOST WORK TOWARDS YOUR PARTNER?:  I’ll typically propose an idea and then see where our muses take us. If my partner needs a rough road map, I’m happy to negotiate what we’d each like to see happen. Generally speaking I let Bazz-B take the wheel.

WHEN A PARTNER DROPS THE THREAD, DO YOU WISH TO KNOW?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: If you want to drop a thread, I’m completely fine with it. The only reason I’d want to know is so I don’t start panicking and think that I forgot to reply you your latest response to it.

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY LEAD YOU TO DROP A THREAD?:  If I lose the thread, or if I think it’s reach a natural conclusion. I don’t typically abandon one in the middle on purpose.

- WILL YOU TELL YOUR PARTNER?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS.

IS COMMUNICATION IN THE RPC IMPORTANT TO YOU? YES / NO.

- AND WHY?: I don’t require a constant, nor deep level of communication, but it’s important to voice concerns. People tend to internalize problems until they become these big ordeals. A friendly message every now and again can save everyone a lot of drama later.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH ABSOLUTE HONESTY, EVEN IF IT MAY MEANS HEARING SOMETHING NEGATIVE ABOUT YOU AND/OR PORTRAYAL?: I BEG for negative feedback. Even if you feel like your nitpicking, it’s the number one thing I crave from writing partners. Tell me what you dislike and I can work on it.

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE SUCH SITUATION IN A MATURE WAY? YES / NO.

WHY DO YOU RP AGAIN, IS THERE A GOAL?: To tell a story. Bazz-B is my primary muse, and his entire tale is so interesting to me. The foundations of his identity are flawed and I want to explore that as much a I can, throw him into as many situations as possible and watch him evolve.

WISHLIST, BE IT PLOTS OR SCENARIOS:  My left arm for an entire roster of Sternritter, of course. Bazz-B and Liltotto surviving after the war. A reality where Bazz-B finds happiness and acceptance in himself. A healthy bond with a Shinigami. 

THEMES I WON’T EVER RP / EXPLORE:   I’ll not write rape, it’s understandably triggering for a lot of people and writing it glorifies it, I think. Also racism in a real world setting? I’ve come to terms with it in regards to Shinigami and Arrancar, but they’re fictional groups. I wont engage with it outside of that. Finally, trans-phobia. If a guy like Bazz-B doesn’t engage with that sort of vile nonsense, none of you should either.

WHAT TYPE OF STARTERS DO YOU PREFER / DISLIKE, CAN’T WORK WITH?: Starters that provide a setting and a purpose are great. The sort of starter that turns it back at the recipient with something akin to “Why are you here” are confining. Also, if in the starter your muse is already pushing away mine.. Bazz-B might just nope outta there.

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE MOST?:  Despite my main muse being Bazz-B (or perhaps in favour of it) I typically write as old men cemented deeply in their ways. Yamamoto Genryuusai Shigekuni, King Baraggan Louisenbairn and Ichibei Hyosube are just some examples. Bazz-B kinda fits the bill too.. I GUESS.

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE LEAST?:  Cold, distant, dispassionate sorts. I could never write as the likes of Ishida, Ulquiorra, Haschwalth, etc. They’re all very nuanced characters, they just don’t mesh well with me. 

WHAT ARE YOUR STRONG ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: I typically respond lightning fast, my last two weeks or so a poor example of that. I’m passionate, you’ll not find another person so desperately in love with Bazz-B as this fool. I’m easy-going, you can take as long as you want and I’ll still be ready to rumble.

WHAT ARE YOUR WEAK ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: Tumblr confuses the hell out of me, I don’t understand a lot of lingo and the big CARDINAL LAWS of writing. I struggle with scene transitioning and limb placement, and my tags are a mess.

DO YOU RP SMUT?:  YES / NO/ DEPENDS.

DO YOU PREFER TO GO INTO DETAIL?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH BLACK CURTAIN?: YES / NO.

- WHEN DO YOU RP SMUT? MORE OUT OF FUN OR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?:  What I want and what Bazz-B want are wildly different things. This man is planting a flag in the middle of bonezone whether I agree or not. I commonly write smut because it’s what Bazz-B wants, but I prefer to do it for development.

- ANYTHING YOU WOULD NOT WANT TO RP THERE?:  I am personally the most vanilla dude you’ll meet. I can google things but it might not translate very well.

ARE SHIPS IMPORTANT TO YOU?:   YES / NO A characters growth should never be locked to a specific person, but exploring a character in isolation can only get you so far. As people, we grow from one another. Romance is a key factor in formulating a person’s ideals, but that’s no the only form of ship. The eventual friendship between Bazz-B and Liltotto and Giselle is one of the most interesting things to me. A romance surviving Silbern is incredibly powerful in my opinion. The bond of a teacher and a student. There are so many situations that force a character to change how they would typically react.

WOULD YOU SAY YOUR BLOG IS SHIP-FOCUSED?:  YES / NO. More and more I’ve been thinking that I’ve been writing Bazz-B in more ships, but that is not the blog’s focus. Ultimately I’m exploring the character of Bazz-B, and that just happens to be inclusive of ships. Some of my most active writing partners also happen to be muses that Bazz-B has excitedly/begrudgingly/unexpectedly fallen for.

DO YOU USE READ MORE?:  YES / NO / SOMETIMES WHEN I WRITE LONG STUFF.

ARE YOU:  MULTI-SHIP / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship  —  MULTIVERSE / Singleverse.

 - WHAT DO YOU LOVE TO EXPLORE THE MOST IN YOUR SHIPS?: Individuals who challenge Bazz-B, who force him to rise above what he is, what he thinks he should be. Who tear down complacency and demand better of him in all ways. Whether overtly, intentionally, whatever! 

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS?: YES / NO. - If you come to me and sell me a story, I’m in. I’m easily swayed by visual art, written lyrics (my ears don’t work so good with music for some reason) and themes.

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- WHAT COULD POSSIBLY MAKE YOUR MUSE INTERESTING TOWARDS OTHERS, WHY SHOULD THEY RP WITH THIS PARTICULAR CHARACTER OF YOURS NOW, WHAT POSSIBLE PLOTS DO THEY OFFER?: Bazz-B is a fun guy to taunt, and to cause havoc with. But he’s more than just a hothead, you can read any one of my many rants if you wanna find out about that. With a plot to kill God spanning 1000 years, a burning fury and misguided ideals dragged through the mud of “the lesser of two evils”, he’s a real party trick.

- WITH WHAT TYPE OF MUSES DO YOU USUALLY STRUGGLE TO RP WITH?:  Muses who, from the start, wish to disengage with Bazz-B. I understand it might be in character, but both Bazz-B and I are gonna struggle to engage if there’s not some allowances made.

- WHAT DO THEY DESIRE, IS THEIR GOAL?:  His ultimate goal is the death of Yhwach. In a perfect world that would coexist with a Quincy victory over the Shinigami, vengeance for genocide. But he’ll take the former over the latter.

- WHAT CATCHES THEIR INTEREST FIRST WHEN MEETING SOMEONE NEW?:  Style, first and foremost. If a Quincy had modified their Wandenreich uniform he’s gonna take notice and make some judgement calls. The rest comes after.

- WHAT DO THEY VALUE IN A PERSON?:  Honesty to themselves, and a drive to survive. Not to be buried by what’s expected of them, or what they should do. Free will is one of the fundamental truths of the world.

- WHAT THEMES DO THEY LIKE TALKING ABOUT?:  Motorbikes, Pop-culture, Fashion, Movies, Himself.

- WHICH THEMES BORE THEM?:  History, loyalty beyond all else, the importance of leadership and hierarchy, lectures of all kinds.

- DID THEY EVER WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TRAUMATIC?:  His family was burned alive by the man who claimed to be their God. Entering a war on the losing side, his kind facing extinction. Hiding in the shadows, surrounded by a extremist military cult.

- WHAT COULD LEAD TO AN INSTANT KILL?:  After a certain point in his life, it’s really only Hollows that should fear indiscriminate murder. Unless you threaten his fragile peace, or claim Yhwach was just.

- IS THERE SOMEONE /-THING THEY HATE?:  Bazz-B hates Hollows, and any Quincy loyalists that stand by Yhwach post-Aushwalen. Anyone who saw the true colors of their progenitor and still deluded themselves into thinking him right.. it’s disgusting.

IS YOUR MUSE EASY TO APPROACH?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?:  Stoke his ego and you’re usually set for a good few hours.

SOMETHING YOU MAY STILL WANT TO POINT OUT ABOUT YOUR MUSE?: Nothing you cant already find on one of my many ramblings about that greatest Quincy that every lived, Bazzard ‘Bazz-B’ Black!

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by:  @equipollency (I got a phantom notification so I rolled with it)

Tagging: @diepower + @zombiequincy + @verzinken + @cheonsaaui + @bleachsthetic + @senboago + any other quincy reading this

[gothamstreetcat]

Written for: @keepswingin

▼Inspired by

▲Includes: Character + a line [Bruce Wayne + “Leave her alone!”]

▼Words: 4k

▲Warning: I want everyone to know before reading this that I do not encourage eating disorders in any way. I am not trying to glorify them either. Please know this story is just about Selina being hungry and how her eating “is a good cause.” This story takes place during the first season of Gotham.

It was crazy to imagine of all the places you could frequent in Gotham City and yet still run into the same people from yesterday. A fact, which could have been true for Bruce Wayne if he had bothered to attend school the prior Friday of that week. He might have overheard the conversation of his schoolyard bullies--Thomas Elliott and his gang, boasting about going to eat, Saturday night. He would have come to know of their reservations in the posh part of town at the highly established restaurant: The Blue Mockingbird.

A false idea of what Gotham claims to be but truly what it is not. Clear sky in an innocent sea. Only the sky is grey and the seas are black spattered with blood. Located straight in the middle of the street.

Their attendance would not have mattered to Bruce, who wanted and already planned to take Selina Kyle out for dinner there. It would have been easier to avoid them, yes. As he would have much preferred to sit in her company amongst silence and strangers that hardly knew him. Of course, everyone knew of him, but since his parents passing Gotham’s rich and elite didn’t socialize with him much unless they had to.

It wasn’t so much of a date in his mind. At least, that’s what he told Alfred when he inquired for a ride to meet Selina and then walk the rest of the way. Besides, they were much too young for that sort of thing. But he wanted to take her out in order to show her what she had shown him. A piece of Gotham. A piece of himself. He wanted to do something nice for Selina since their time together on the street the day of the Assassin. A day which should have been riddled with horror and danger yet made his heart swell with joy and adrenaline be even the slightest thought of it. The best day of his life spent with Selina learning and hiding. Smoke, she had called it. Disappearing like smoke. And it was something about that day, their time together that taught him how there was much more to life than just the little things surrounding them. He wanted to take Selina out because he wanted to show people how much more there is to life than what they were living, but more importantly because somewhere in his chest he thought “that is what you do when you care for someone.” When you like them and you know they deserve something nice.

It wasn’t all about fancy food, and nice places filled with people who wore immaculate clothing. Despite those things being what he began to associate with kindness growing up. The way his father used to take his mother out once a week somewhere nice. Or the nights they came as a family--Alfred included of course. His mother would tip the band players a little extra, asking them to play something his father liked. The polite waitstaff who would swing by a time or two to refill drinks and check on them. Couples would dance in the middle of the room and he watched boyfriends push their girlfriends into their seats and pour the wine. It wasn’t necessary to take Selina into a joint such as this but just something he wanted to do… because once he watched his parents do all those things and hoped one day he would be able to have such a humble opportunity do the same to someone he cared for. Fancied, Alfred would have put it.

Selina Kyle deserved those sort of things to him. He wanted to share them with her and somehow after a brief explanation, she folded her arms and agreed.

They arrived sometime at the dot of eight o’clock.

“I hope you know I’m not going to go easy on you tonight. This was your idea. You wanted to do this..” Selina sauntered in ahead of him with a teasing smirk on her face. Soon she spun around him walking backward.

“Yes, I remember,” he smiled his usual boyish grin as the Doorman standing on both sides of her tipped their hats to him with a smile while opening the double openings as Selina came through.

“All I’m saying here is that I hope you brought your wall--” she turned around in just enough time to take a step back and avoid crashing into one of the waitstaff. Gracefully coming by with a tray of assorted cookies and sandwiches, dodging her by just a second. Her voice gone soft, mouth open in surprise at the colourful view of the scene and the people inside it. Woman in fancy dress wear, men in tailored suits, and an older fellow dressed up with a bow-tie serenading the place with soft violin music. In Gotham, every street corner and underground subway was a place to perform, but the man with the bow-tie was putting on a show. The entire establishment in this halo-like glow of pink and gold. Hot food freshly prepared was wafting through her nose and making her stomach growl.  

She glanced at Bruce who appeared beside her and rolled her eyes.

“What?” He held a goofy smile on his face.

“You told me we were going someplace nice.” She folded her arms in protest as her smile faded, clearly annoyed and suddenly overrun with the feeling of being out of place. Still wearing her street clothes from yesterday and the day before. Torn jeans, muddy boots, leather and all.

“This is nice.”

“This is more than nice,” she explained. “It’s like The Ritz or something.”

Bruce frowned against himself, disappointed in Selina’s unhappiness but even more unhappy with himself for not anticipating her reaction in the first place. But he soon smiled again, determined to fix his idiocy at attempting what he believed to be: a nice thing.

“Everyone here is dressed so nice,” Selina pointed out. “Even you.” She made a face and pointed at his clothes.

He was wearing a nice blue dress shirt with his usual slacks and his father’s winter coat above it all. He couldn’t even stop himself from leaving without putting on one of his sweater vests. A knit light blue to match his shirt. Like Selina’s coat, it was one of his favourite things.

“I dress like this every day,” he responded, knowing he didn’t have to try and differently for Selina’s sake. Not that he would have even if he wanted to. “If you wanna go somewhere else to eat we can turn around and—“

“No,” she cut him off abruptly. Her eyes seeing past him over to the stature of another serving gentleman. Coming past with a tray filled with copious amounts of food and suddenly she was reminded of how completely starving she was. A bite to eat here. A morsel there. A muffin grabbed off of a man’s bread tray with a banana snatched from another woman’s brown paper-bagged groceries. It was never enough. Day after day, it didn’t measure up to the meals she was missing. So naturally, she was often hungry. Naturally, she loved food. Which Bruce understood.

“We can stay,” she continued, offering up a small smile while trying to contain how much her mouth watered even though she didn’t have to.

It was in the sea of Rich people old, young and in-between where she spotted a perfect little round table seated for two. She trotted over ahead of Bruce and leapt into one of the chairs just as a serviceman was coming toward them with menus. Selina had her legs crossed over the chair—perfectly herself while everyone around was beginning to stare. The waiter glanced down towards Bruce,

“Will this table be alright?” Another set of wait staff who had seen Selina seat herself (despite not being in the place for such) were already pouring her water and offering a basket of bread. Even from far away, Bruce could see the perfect heat of steam rising from the bread torn by Selina’s fingers.

He was a little dissatisfied himself by the time he and their waiter had reached her. As he wanted to have the chance to push her into the chair. However, the feeling faded as he watched Selina already enjoying the food, deciding that that was a better feeling.

“Yes, very much. Thank you.” He settled down as the Hostess respectively dropped their menus before them and retreated to his respective table. Presumably to change or rearrange the possible reserved seat they had just taken. Bruce had called ahead. Reserved them a private table. It was a crowded night. He can only assume the circumstances though it was clear they would not be asked to be removed. Nothing involving Selina stays the same.

He had studied and observed in some cases, partners going on dates through various means of romantic settings. And though Bruce didn’t consider Selina nor himself a romantic, a walk on the beach or boat ride along Gotham’s river didn’t seem like anything special to either of them. The cinemas perhaps, but neither one of them seemed interested in films and television. Besides, Selina responded to food. As it became a habit of himself to bring her a tray of breakfast when she overslept, a tray of dinner when she was avoiding him. And somehow sneaking down in the centre of the night at the perfect hour to join her for a midnight snack. This, of course, all while she was staying at the Manor.

Selina loved food. And Bruce loved how she loved food. Always being told that somehow “eating quickly” was associated with “tasting nothing.” Not savouring. Not enjoying. Not having enough polite manners. Selina showed him that wasn’t in fact, the case.

“Order everything you like,” he told her as they opened their menus. That was all she needed to hear. For when another waiter returned they came with a tray of water, sparkling beverages and whatever else the pair of them might need. Selina was already ready to order.

“Corn,” was the first thing she asked for. As a side, which Bruce could only imagine was good since he knew the corn on the cob was something popular. Most people, as he’d seen during dinners at friends houses and fancy charity dinners would season their corn with salt and pepper. Proceeding to eat the vegetable with a fork and a knife. First, they would use the knife to cut the corn from the cob and shell it onto their plate where they would take it from the plate with their fork. Bruce had seen people do it dozens of times before. It was proper. It was polite. But Selina would sink her teeth directly into the bone of the corn until the juice dribbled down her chin and neck. All the way down her arms and to a pool on the table. This of course, after she’s flavoured the entire thing in butter with her fingers.

“Ribs,” was the first thing she spat for an entree. “Ribs and… a hamburger.” She was as sure as the click of her tongue. The waiter jotted it down, and thankfully… didn’t finish. A hamburger turned into spaghetti, which morphed into a steak. Bruce couldn’t help but break out in a smile, which caused him to think. He meant to say “anything” as in: “order anything you like.” Yet instead, he had mistakenly said “everything,” which somehow didn’t bother him at all and he assumed both would have meant the same thing otherwise.

Selina ordered pasta as well, and anything the waiter suggested to her she agreed to without hesitation. Onions, lettuce, ketchup, and tomato with her burger. Loaded mashed potatoes fixed with butter and chives to compliment her steak. Anything that consisted of grease and mess, Selina obliged.

At one point during her endless order, their waiter actually glanced over at Bruce with raised eyebrows that suggested: “is she for real?” But all Bruce could do was laugh as quietly as possible. Then he asked Bruce for his own meal, 90% of his writing pad having already been taken up with Selina’s dinner.

“I’ll have whatever she’s having,” he replied. “You must be hungry,” he said to Selina with a grin.

“Starving,” she confirmed. “You wouldn’t believe the crazy day I had.”

They conversated over the meal. Selina doing most of the talking while Bruce spent time listening, watching and taking in small mouthfuls of food. Their dinner covering every inch of the table alongside a smaller fold-out consisting of all the extras. It became clear by the look on the staff and patrons faces that they had never had an order so big before. Even with Bruce and Selina splitting the food evenly, it came to enough to feed a small army. Or at least a small child. Who was busy cutting all the food in half and piling it onto her companions plate for consumption.

Apparently, during the day Selina had gotten caught in the crossfire in the Classic case of “wrong place” and “wrong time.”  She knew in the lower side of Gotham how careful she had to be, but having swiped some expensive diamonds the night before during a quick nip-and-grab she knew she had to expend them quickly. To get them out of her pockets as soon as possible. They still had the little white tag hanging around them.

Her and Ivy had been wandering down the street to her newest—and temporary fence when more than a few cop cars sped their way and bergaded the street.

It was another homeless raid, Selina knew. Even if she did have diamonds in her pocket and the two of them were too little for all the hustle of cop cars, part of her worried they’d come straight for her. And even if they hadn’t, they’d sure snatch her up as quick as they could and carry her away for a whole bunch of made-up reasons.

Thankfully, she and Ivy had been quick enough on their feet. Ivy being small and swift made it easy for her to run and hide. Selina could have done the same but she chose to send them on a chase instead. Give them a run, she felt. Make them think they had the upper hand even as she was worried out of her mind. She took them down street corners and alleys:

“She’s dangerous,” she heard one of them say. “You have to shoot her.”

And when the first bullet ran out past her feet causing her to jump, the game was over. Her lungs burning from the heat inside her lungs she jumped on the back of a nearby bus at the stoplight just as it started rolling again. Waved and coughed at the policemen “goodbye,” knowing they wouldn’t try to catch her now.

“Why would they worry about you if they were trying to catch the other kids on the street?” Bruce wondered during a pause in Selina’s voice. She was then in mid-chew with her rib rack... Sauce slathered over her face.

“Because,” she said with her mouth full. “They see me and think I’m trouble.” The faster they get me off the street, the better, she thought, but she was still eating and didn’t feel like swallowing quickly enough to finish the sentence. Then Bruce replied:

“But you are trouble.”

She stopped eating and stared blankly at him. Surprised, almost. Did he really mean that? She wiped the rib-sauce with the sleeve of her hood--having abandoned her jacket on the back of the chair an hour ago.

“The good kind,” he finished, smiling.

She had to fight herself not to smile back. So she shoved her lips back against the bone of her pork.

“Selina you might want to slow down, you’re going to make yourself sick,” Bruce pointed out. Remembering Selina’s first night at the Manor. She ate until there were no leftovers—Alfred was pleased. However, later in the night, Bruce overheard Selina puking from the bathroom. Too much rich food in her system made her stomach turn sour. She wasn’t used to it.

She ignored him, however, and continued on with her story. “Anyway, I spend the remainder of the day hocking wallets off strangers, catching the bus back to my squat to meet Ivy, and running across the street with some other people.” She caught the curious look he was giving her. “You, know? For fun.” She couldn’t have expected him to understand, not because he was rich or entitled to be in one of the cars that would casually attempt to run to her over. But because he was Bruce, and didn’t know a thing about being outside his house walls.

“So, did you sell the diamonds?” His fork flicked across his plate. He’d barely eaten a thing. Bites here and there in between Selina’s story. He was enthralled with her wild side of life that he couldn’t eat.

Selina licked her five fingers clean before digging around the back of her chair and into her jacket pocket. She whipped the silver pieces of jewellery toward the front with a prideful grin. A necklace. Slim and shiny that came down into the form of a triangle shape. Each point a diamond that still sparkled against the dim light of the restaurant. Selina smiled with a silly grin, her lips pursed into themselves as she flicked the stolen item into her palm and return it to her pocket.

It was then  when she was busy licking the last remains of the rib sauce and burger grease from her fingers when trouble began.

“Hey, Brucey.” It was Elliott, who glanced back at his pack—kids from Bruce’s school. “Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your friend?” They hadn't seen him wander over from across the floor. Bruce was too focused on Selina and Selina was too focused on the food. Not that she much cared for Bruce’s classmate anyway.

She gave him a sideways glance. Her eyes slithering up and down his frame from his stupidly expensive haircut to his designer shoes. An ugly looking uniform that suggested he wore it from school, or at least something similar. She rolled her eyes before her gaze fell upon Bruce who was attempting to stammer some kind of answer. The it clicked. Elliott, was a bully. More importantly, he was Bruce’s bully. Selina knew about Bullies. Most notably that she didn’t like them.

“It’s Bruce,” she clicked her tongue at Elliott to match his cockiness. “No “y.”

Elliott seemed surprised she had a voice to speak.

“You need your girlfriend to speak for you now?” He paid her no mind but shoved a thumb in her direction.

Selina picked up the steak knife she didn’t use from their table and began to pick her teeth with it. If neither of them had been the wiser, Bruce and Elliott would have thought she was sharpening it. Preparing to stab Elliott for such a rude introduction. He flashed her a disgusted look. What a weird girl, he thought. But he wasn’t scared of her. Yet.

“You really do like the weird ones. don't you, Bruce?” He eyed Selina suspiciously with a quizzed grin.

“What are the goggles for? Can you see with them on?” And they inferred?” He pointed to the plastic green lenses atoned with shiny metal and leather straps on top of curls that hadn’t been combed through in weeks.

“I don’t like to get blood in my eyes,” she replied.” And I’m not his girlfriend.” She now corrected with a hint of irritancy. Sucking in her teeth as she licked them clean right as Elliott admittedly thought it was then she was surely going to stab him with a fancy steak knife. What a horrible way to go. However, she didn’t. Instead, she placed the knife back on the table and flashed him the biggest smile she could fake.

“People call me Cat.” She spit directly into the centre of her greasy palm and reached for Elliot’s hand by his side. He was caught off guard, too late to move away as the street girl latched her disgusting fingerprints onto his own. He squirmed his hand free with disgust. Bruce had to fight himself not to laugh. “Nice to meet you,” she lied, picking her teeth now with her nails. Satisfied from hunger.

A beat. Then Elliott softened. She was actually kind of nice-looking up close. Cute. He could make out her torn jeans underneath the short tablecloth and fishnets to compliment. She was tough seeming on the outside, but he could tame her, he was sure of it.

“And you can call me, anytime.” He flashed her a cocky smile filling her with rage. It was her turn to look at him with disgust.

She would have jumped from her seat and slammed her fist into his face with that comment. She knew what he was saying to her. It’s what everyone said to her when she wandered the street. Broad daylight or not. It’s partly why she kept her hood up, but they always seemed to see her. When they wanted to.

It was Bruce’s voice that caused her to hesitate. Soft and sweet, his composer was enough for the both of them to remain calm.

“Leave her alone, Tommy. You’re being very unkind.” He was stern and yet smooth at the same time. Not yelling, but with a voice raised gently enough as to not invoke the staff to ask them to leave. Bruce was a gentleman. He couldn’t help himself.

“Sheesh,” he finally stepped away as Bruce gave him a frightening glare that matched Selina’s. “Just trying to be friendly.” He stalked away back to his group alone in the corner. They had been watching the whole time. Some snickering to themselves while others had their mouths hung open. One girl was smoking right under a “no smoking” sign.

“Friend of yours?” Selina asked jokingly. Bruce chuckled. “Why does that guy pick on you anyway?”

“He thinks I’m weird,” Bruce replied. “And he’s right, I am.” He didn’t smile as he said this.

“You are weird,” Selina confirmed. “The good kind.”

They smiled, and Bruce couldn’t remember a time after his parents‘ death where he was happy. The most happy, he could put it if he could label his feelings anything at all. He wished it could go on forever. The pair of them laughing and eating under dim candlelight and the sound of chattering strangers. Lingering stares and the celestial harmonies of professional violinists in the background. But it was getting late, and Alfred had insisted he be home by midnight at the very latest. Alone or otherwise.

Bruce put his hands over his pockets to get his wallet out before their waiter came back. However, Selina squirmed in her seat a little to suggest she was getting out currency of her own.

“No, Selina you don’t have to. I took you out, I’m going to—“

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” she stopped him with a smirk. “I’m not paying,” she laughed. “This dinner’s all on him.” She pointed in Elliott’s direction, who was busy laughing with his friends. He wasn’t paying any attention when Selina proudly produced his wallet from her jeans. Smiling like a Cheshire Cat. She had swiped it easily enough when she grabbed his hand. One of her own to do the talking and the other to do the work.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bruce said, but he was smiling.

“Of course I did,” Selina reasoned. “He owes us.”

Their waiter finally came around again, bringing the check for convenience. Selina’s sly and still greasy fingers pinched into the stolen leather pouch, fished out a hefty bit of hundred dollar bills (dumbass) and handed it over to their waiter.

“Keep the change,” she smiled.

He thanked her and left. Selina stood first to leave, half wanting to leave while the getting was good, but also because she was starting to feel sick inside her stomach. Bruce followed her stance just as there was a roar from across the room.

“Hey! That’s my wallet!” Elliott pointed and hollered directly at Selina, still holding the leather in her hand. His gang of losers and their serviceman glancing over at her.

Nobody moved as Selina quick bolted from her chair. One hand latching onto her leather jacket from behind and the other reaching for Bruce. She pulled him towards the exit and they ran to the double doors that were already being opened eagerly for them. Bruce’s heart was pounding but he didn’t understand why.

Perhaps it was because he was doing this with Selina. How it excited him to his core. Perhaps it was because truthful, he wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. He didn’t know where they were going next.

No one seemed inclined to stop them. Only Tommy, who by now had bolted from his own booth with his friends. The staff and other patrons of the restaurant didn’t move an inch.

Soon, they were running out into the chilly winter’s night of the city, pulling their coats over their arms. Into the street, Selina pulled Bruce there and even in a second of what should have been seen as danger he didn’t feel unsafe. His lungs were burning and he was laughing as the cars flickered their lights at him and blared their horns.

It was only until they made it as far around the next corner where Selina hurled. No one was after them now.

“Hey, are you okay?” Still coming down from the high, Bruce put a gentle hand against her back.

She was sick until her words were just a shameless hollowed whisper towards the moonlight.

“Never better.”

[everydreamtilldawn]

Endgame Thoughts *Spoilers obviously and a whole lot of venting*

OK Endgame, here we go! The absolute disrespect to the audience, the actors, the characters, and all the other creators who put so much work and care into building characters and stories for the other movies and shows which led up Infinity War and Endgame. The Russos are so far up their own asses with how good they think they are. I'm so done with their pure spoiler free excuses. Not letting actors know what scenes they're in, who they're with - wasting oscar winning actors on their own bloated egos insisting adults can't be trusted not to cause a PR scandal over their fanfic. Those assholes put themselves into the canon as "the first canon gay character". Oh, Mr. Unnamed Guy 32 is the first gay character out of all these hundreds of people on screen? Oh Mr. Russo well we all better get on our knees and kiss your gay dick in thanks then you ass faced worthless shit for brain. What a fucking insult. Who has the actual nerve? Who actually has an ego so big they don't actually see the lgbt community and their issues as something to take seriously within their narrative - its like their heads have been under a rock the past few years thinking of only their wonderful, unbeatable movie that they have no idea gay people are main characters now and have their own movies elsewhere in the world. We're not nameless, background characters you dicks. The fact that 10 years led up to this is like spitting in the face of your audience and telling them exactly how little you actually care about them except for their money. Every bit of Endgame highlighted and emphasized the flaws that was the monstrosity that was Infinity War. Starting there - I will never get over the fact that the end battle of Endgame so clearly shows how awful the previous movie was. I think I've told you all the problems I have with IW before but to emphasize again - the "we don't trade lives" concept is still something I'm furious over. The fact that grand old captain america wasn't willing to kill Vision for the UNIVERSE but was ok with a few hundred Wakandan's dying for Vision to maybe live? Bullshit. AND that final battle? WTF so we're supposed to believe that in the... five?... ten minutes? after being snapped back to life all those people got off their asses? I can't even. They expect us to believe that when you put all those geniuses, warriors, battle proven tacticions, strategists and spies in a room that they still make all those obvious mistakes when they know the UNIVERSE is at stake? Where was that army of sorcerers in battle one? Why did Wong or whatever his name is really HAVE to protect that one sanctum even knowing the fate of the UNIVERSE was at stake? They had hours to plan. HOURS. If not days?!?!?!?!?! They went to different countries, they had time to sit and plan. They had time to call in the world's resources to prepare, to gather armies. Instead they fought with Wakanda and a handful of superheroes - why??? They literally knew the stakes, the only reason they didn't have the huge army battle scene in Infinity War is because Marvel wanted another movie. They wanted to make billions on Endgame cause they knew audiences would come back if they shock value killed half the universe and then brought them back for battle two but uhhhhhhh.... On your left was a great badass scene and all. But they had max like ten minutes to gather forces who legit just came back to life. Who sent out that distress call btw? Why did all these people NOW have a plan of attack and were gathered in preparation to fight?

Was it badass? Was the shot of Captain America alone against an entire army not iconic? OF COURSE. I loved that scene. I loved the women gathering around Peter and racing to fight against the army as one. It was legendary. There were some really funny, badass, and wonderful moments. But it was a bad story. It was bad writing. Working my way down from character murders that least upset me to most. Black Widow. She finally came to life in this movie. She was a leader, she had emotions, she was more than a catsuit, a sexy smile and a witty comment. I adored her. I despise her death. I hated that in the end she was still another pretty face lying sexily at the bottom of a pit for the life and will of a man. I’m half okay with her death, because it was almost justified. In this story where she was finally a fully-fledged and fleshed out person – she had wants and goals and those centered around protecting her family. The character she was in this movie didn’t even begin to exist until Endgame and it’s a tragedy that she was murdered before she even reached her full potential. But she did want to sacrifice herself so the universe could live again. She wanted Clint to go back to his family. She wanted to give her life for the only thing she loved. BUT Clint was the true perfect mirror for this narrative. Thanos sacrificing Gamora will never be okay. Gamora said it herself – that wasn’t love. That was glorifying abuse. Thanos never should have been given the soul stone under the ridiculous and unclear rules of the soul stone. Honestly, I’d believe Red Skull is just fucking with everybody at this point with how ridiculous those rules are. No way is what Thanos did love. I will come back to the Russos glorifying and being okay with child abusers when I get to Tony and his father. Clint would have been the mirror to Thanos in that moment. Instead of a father killing his daughter, it would have been a father dying for his daughter. His relationship to his daughter is even highlighted at the start of the movie and in his time travel moment. Clint hated who he’d become, he was ready and willing to sacrifice himself for his family and at that point he deserved it. As shown later with Tony – the theme of fathers sacrificing themselves is a relevant theme. So why Natasha in that moment. Why not the father? Why not the narrative mirror? Why the only woman on the team, the one who has grown to be a real person in the narrative and one who is now LITERALLY IMPORTANT TO THE STRUCTURE OF THE WHOLE WORLD AND THE UNIVERSE? She became the leader of the Avengers and expanded their reach across galaxies by communicating and coordinating with Rocket, Nebula, and Carol. She had a world to rebuild by coming home. It’s not like they’re going to give Clint his own redemption movie where he makes up for his half assed arc to becoming his Ronin character arc. I’m half okay with it, but I also think it was the completely wrong choice of which character to sacrifice.

THOR. The insult to Taika Waititi. The insult to Thor, Thor: the Dark World, and Thor: Ragnarok. The insult to Thor the character. Hell, the reversal on Thor -2.0 from Infinity War. Years of movies, years of work building this character. Them saying that not only does Thor, who finally learned to be the God of Thunder without his hammer, who took up Odin’s role and finally accepted his place as King, needed to be.... fixed?!?!?! They gave him back his eye for starters which reverses the whole meaning of him losing it in the first place. Of assuming the role of Odin, of King, of being Thor. Then they give him the axe and then the HAMMER. Thor moved on. Thor accepted himself. Thor in Ragnarok is proven to be stronger without the hammer than he was with it. Giving him the axe, making him obsessed with getting his hammer back, reverses three movie of character development. AND THEN. Making him FAT. Making him STUPID. Making him threaten children, abandon his people, abandon his duty, fall into a depression completely unlike his character who is a hardened warrior with deep emotional depth and understanding – a fucking soft hearted genius in his own right who was able to easily give forgiveness to Gamora and understanding that being the daughter of an abusive monster isn’t her fault. They have the audacity to spend a whole movie making fat jokes about him and decide to reverse him back ten year’s worth of character development. Oh hardy har, we’re such good writers. We understand posttraumatic stress and the mindset of heroes – look he’s drinking beer, and an alcoholic, and eat a salad you fat fucks. WTF. It wasn’t funny. It was mean. It was unnecessary. It was out of character like the Russos came up with it high on crack and refused to let it go. Thank god Chris H is a good enough actor not to show how insulting it must have been to have his character be paraded around in bad cgi and treated like he’s an idiot. Did the Russos not watch the other movies in the canon? Did they not care that Thor had become this deeply complex character who loved his people, would do anything for them, was ready to be King and lead – NO I guess they just don’t care. Like everyone who sat on their asses during the battle in Wakanda. It would have been amazing for Thor to have gone back in time to see his mother as the true and worthy King at last, if his final arc had been around idk his apprehension at how to lead his people after failing them, after them dying down to a few hundred. Having everything he could have been overshadowed by the Russos need for a running joke the entire movie is so very insulting. It shows just how little they think of the audience’s intelligence.

CAPTAIN AMERICA. The insult to women’s agency. I truly at this point think the Russos are lying fucks who have no respect for women. They’re sexists assholes. The insult to the entire team of Agent Carter. The insult to Peggy fucking Carter, the most badass woman who built herself up, who built Shield, who moved on, who had a life, a husband, children, who died in peace and was put to rest. Nope. Forget about everything she did. The Russos plot line is more important. Steve Rogers started out the movie saying how important it was to move on, and what does he do? Not move on. Lets highlight the insult that throwing in “the first gay character” is when facing the cowardice of switching Steve Rogers from being so obsessed with protecting Bucky Barnes that he threw away the shield, became a fugitive, and left the family and team he’d built in the future to chase after Peggy Carter who he HAD MOVED ON FROM. He kissed that one random blonde girl he had no chemistry with. He said goodbye and buried Peggy. Peggy had a life, she was happy. Did she miss Steve? Was she sad he “died”? Yeah. But now she doesn’t get a choice between the future she could have had and the one where Steve buts in and I guess Bruce didn’t have a discussion with Steve about splitting the path of time into multiple realities cause the Russos decided to fuck their own established logic and leave Steve in a new version of the past – where almost all the infinity stones are returned in their non-original forms, loki is fucking off with the tesseract and Thanos/his entire army/and Gamora are all in the wrong time never to forge the original war in the first place? They didn’t put a single scene between Steve and Bucky reconciling the past few years, Bucky’s dusting or the fact Steve was gonna go and never come back after ALL THAT. After Winter Soldier and Civil War, Steve said fuck Bucky, fuck the avengers, fuck this future that doesn’t have Iron Man, I want to go dance with a woman who HAD A LIFE WITHOUT YOU YOU ASSHOLE. I was touched by the old man Steve returning to give Sam the shield. I thought it was wonderful, I cried a little. But what about Peggy? What about the timeline? What about the rules????? Fuck it, there’s a gay character now and Thor is fat, the rules don’t matter anymore I guess.

Tony Stark.... deserved better. He is the true, real hero. The only hero. I don’t care about anyone else. Excluding his own 3 movies and Homecoming, Tony’s character was done so wrong in the Avengers movies by the writers, the audience and the other characters. So many people wrote him off as the person he pretended to be instead of the person he was. They saw selfishness and ego instead of the amount of sacrifice, the effort he gave into making the world a better place. He was such a good person. He grew so much. He gave his life for a world that never loved him, but that he never stopped loving. Natasha and Tony were the only people with something left to lose, but they were the ones who sacrificed themselves for a cold, uncaring universe and they deserved better. Tony finally had everything he never thought he would deserve – a wife, a daughter, a peaceful life at rest. All his wars were finished. He had everything to lose and he went into the endgame with the one condition that he would not give up what he had gained. And still they killed him. It was the only acceptable death for a hero like Tony Stark, but that doesn’t mean he deserved it. That doesn’t mean his daughter grows up without her father. That doesn’t mean its okay for that abusive, negligent asshole that was Howard Stark to get a last hoorah and be “redeemed” by a final conversation with his son. No. Tony had multiple arc, multiple points in his life where he had to rise above Howard and all that Howard stood for, all the ways Howard had hurt him and held him back. He was better than his father – going to be a better father than his father. Thanos and Howard will never, ever be men who should be looked upon as having loved their children enough for them to die in exchange for the greater good. It was so very satisfying for Tony to finally have it out at Steve for everything and I wish that scene had been longer. Tony deserved to live.

Final points. The timeline stuff, again, was bs. They insisted on not messing it up and still they messed up everything. The greater implications of all that is... astoundingly idiotic. Along with, why not just have Tony’s life ending snap send Thanos right back to the past along with the infinity stones to their rightful places and memories erased? If the infinity stones can do anything, such as kill half the universe, why not correct the flaws of the plot? I thought it was stupid that the only reason the time heist failed was because Nebula didn’t think about mind melding with her past self. The fact that’s even a thing... that happened. Really. The whole movie shouldn’t have existed let alone be three hours. They set such a great tone with the opening scene. It was tragic and heart wrenching and then seeing Natasha finally realized and the world broken. I can forgive dues-rat-machina bring Scott back cause I love Scott, but the time heist threw out all the tension. I didn’t feel the stakes, I felt like they stepped sideways into a whole different genre. That middle plot didn’t feel like a movie worth ending an era on. It felt cheesy and underdeveloped. Again – they had forever to plan. There was no time limit pushing them to go to the past immediately. They could have taken the time to think this out, cover every possible option – and they did. They’re shown doing that. So how, for the second time in these two movies, do these brilliant geniuses, tacticians and strategists believably fail to predict the outcome. And uhhhhhh did snapping all those people back account for the post snap casualties? Cause we saw helicopters flying into buildings, cars crashing, we were told that wars broke out and people went kinda crazy as they had a right to. The snap resulted in post snap causalities by the billions across the universe – had to have. So did all those people come back? What happens to the people who moved on and now have a 5 years younger mother/father/sister/brother/friend/loved one/wife/husband/etc to deal with who just blinked and suddenly half the people they care about are now five years older and the whole world is different? The sheer amount of housing and food crises that are about to begin post “snap 2: the snappening” are insane. And I get that its no fun to think about that in the fun of a big super hero battle and all that. But next movie will probably have zero mention of all that as shown by Peter’s entire class just moseying along on a European vacation in the next Spiderman. So Peter’s entire class got snapped, came back, and went on with their lives? The rest of the world’s infrastructure repaired itself in the time frame of Peter still being in High School? Yeah, right. But still – the fact that there’s an hour and a half of the movie that pauses all the tension and drama to be a comedy is just... whatever fine. It was funny. It was kinda cool, but it didn’t belong and it wasn’t necessary. Ok, I think I’m done.

[mega-komal-zahid]

Holy Quran

In the Qur’an, a pious Muslim hears God’s voice guiding and encouraging, consoling and reproaching, promising the righteous mercy and eternal bliss, while threatening the wicked with wrath and eternal torment. For Muslims, the Qur’an is the word of God, which has entered human time to shape history. According to Muslim sources, the Angel Gabriel revealed himself to Prophet Muhammad in 610 CE while he was in prayerful retreat in a cave on Mount Hira, outside Mecca. It is said that in this initial meeting, the Angel Gabriel pressed Muhammad so vehemently that he felt he was being choked. The Holy Quran states that the angel then commanded:

Recite in the name of your Lord who created, created man from a blood clot. Recite, for your Lord is most magnanimous — who taught by the pen; taught man that which he did not know. (Qur’an 96:1–5)

Muslims claim that God warned Prophet Muhammad: We shall surely lay upon you weighty speech, and enjoined him to rise up through most of the night in prayer, and remember fervently what he was told to be, “the Lord of the east and the west” (Qur’an 73:5 and 73:8). For Muslims this “weighty speech” marked Prophet Muhammad as the last Messenger of God to humankind; this event was to have a great impact on the course of human history.

The Qur’an is said to have been communicated to Prophet Muhammad in two ways. Muslims believe that it was communicated through the Angel Gabriel. These communications were revealed in small portions: single verses, groups of verses, and entire chapters or suras over a period of twenty to twenty-two years. The Qur’an for Muslims is not only words that can be uttered, heard, and recorded; it is also the heavenly archetype of which the recited and written Qur’an is only an earthly copy. The Qur’an in its heavenly archetypal form is for Muslims the source of divine revelation throughout human history and is eternally preserved by God. It is the covenant of God with humankind which He established with the children of Adam when they were but ideas or essences in the divine realm. Prophet Muhammad also professed to have experienced this heavenly Qur’an, in addition to having been the recipient of revelation. He would experience a profound spiritual state, shivering on a hot summer day or sweating on a cold winter day, hearing sounds like the ringing of a bell. These sounds transformed themselves in his consciousness into human words, which he memorised and had recorded.

Muslims also believe that the Qur’an was also sent down in part, to Prophet Muhammad’s heart on the “night of determination” (Qur’an 44:3 and 97:1), a blessed night for all Muslims. This event sanctified his life and made Prophet Muhammad an example for Muslims to follow. In the Qur’an, God asked: Am I not your Lord? and those who chose to worship God affirmed as Lord responded with the words: Yes, we bear witness… (Qur’an 7: 172). The Qur’an is the seal and testimony to this covenant. Its message is, for Muslims, a powerful affirmation of divine lordship and Muslim commitment.

The Qur’an as an earthly text has been inextricably bound to Muslim history. It served as an answer to the problems of the Arab society in Prophet Muhammad’s time. The Qur’an was also a response to Prophet Muhammad’s questions about the meaning of human life and the mystery of creation, and was closely linked to the history of the nascent Muslim community in Mecca and, later, in Medina. Many of the Qur’anic verses are said to have been revealed in answer to specific questions or life situations. The answers given are seen by Muslims to be general principles, moral imperatives, or precepts applicable to all times and places. The family of the Prophet, which the Qur’an directly addressed (see Qur’an 33:32), is seen by Muslims to be a model for all families and all societies in the world.

Arrangement of the Qur’an

The Qur’an was subsequently written down and memorised by professing Muslim men and women. Yet, when the Prophet died in 632 CE, ten years after the Hijra, that is, his migration from Mecca to Medina, the Qur’an as it is known today, did not exist. The verses and chapters, or suras, were at that time scattered fragments of the writings of Prophet Muhammad’s scribes, preserved on privately collected pieces of parchment, stone, palm leaf, and leather, in addition to words preserved in human memory. It was during the reign of the third Muslim caliph (or religious leader) Uthman, who governed the existing Muslim community several generations after Prophet Muhammad’s death, that the Qur’an was given its standard form, which remains unchanged to this day. The suras were arranged so that, generally, there would be progression from the longest chapter to the shortest. It is that arrangement that has been preserved as the authoritative version of the Qur’an.

It is essential for every pious Muslim to memorise as much of the Qur’an as possible. A Muslim prayer in the solitude of a room or in a congregation begins with the words of the Qur’an’s opening sura (Al-Fatihah). Prayer is considered to be a way for Muslims to appropriate the word of Allah. This divine-human interchange is eloquently expressed in a hadith qudsi, a saying of the Prophet quoting God:

I have divided the prayer (salat) between me and my servant, and my servant shall have whatever he prays for. For when the servant says: ‘All praise be to God, the Lord of all beings,’ God says: ‘My servant has praised me’. When the servant says: ‘The All-Merciful, the Compassionate,’ God says: ‘My servant has glorified me … this is my portion and to him belongs what remains’. (M. Ayoub, The Qur’an and Its Interpreters).

The Fatihah, the opening sura of the Qur’an, is considered by Muslims to be the perfect prayer. The first three and one-half of its seven verses is a prayer of praise. The rest of the sura is a prayer for divine guidance and grace. Not only the Fatiha but the entire Qur’an is a Muslim prayer. It is also a divine address to Muslims. Thus, in every prayer, God is believed to reveal Himself and the Muslim believer is to receive the word of God. Muslim prayer is the human connection to God through the Qur’an.

THE QUR’AN AS RECITATION

The Qur’an for Muslims is a source of divine blessing and merit, tranquillity and guidance. With it, a child is greeted at birth, by it he or she is guided through life’s journey, and with it, sent to the final abode. This long journey through life with the Qur’an is to include a recitation of the entire Qur’an over a specific period or a week, a month, or longer in accordance with divisions of the sacred text for daily recitation. This process is known as Khatm al-Qur’an or completion of its recitation. On special occasions, such as the fasting month of Ramadan, the pious undertake to recite the entire Qur’an by dividing it up into thirty equal parts that correspond with the thirty nights of the Muslim sacred month. Prophet Muhammad is said to have called such a person who journeys through the Qur’an “the sojourning traveller”. This is because when the reciter comes to the end of his or her recitation, he or she must start over at the beginning again.

Muslims find the recitation, memorising, copying or possessing a copy of the Qur’an in their homes a source of great blessing. Indeed, it is believed that on the day of resurrection, the status of a Muslim man or woman in paradise will be determined by the number of verses of the Qur’an that he or she has memorised during their earthly life. An even greater source of merit and blessing for Muslims is found in studying and understanding the principles and precepts of the Qur’an. The Prophet is said to have declared: There are no people assembled in one of the houses of God to recite the Book of God and study it together but that the sakinah (divine tranquillity) descends upon them. The term sakinah is possibly derived from the Hebrew term sheckinah, which means “to the glory of Jehovah.” Such a derivation may have been the result of contact Prophet Muhammad had with both Jews and Christians prior to and during his revelations. “Mercy covers them, angels draw near to them, and God remembers them in the company of those who are with him.” The reciters of the Qur’an, those who memorise its words and live by its precepts, are said to be heirs to the Prophet. The Qur’an is believed to sanctify the heart and home of the Muslim and make him or her a partaker of Divine revelation. Its word inscribed on a building, a business, or vehicle is believed to invoke a blessing or protection.

Above all, the Qur’an is “a book of guidance to the God-fearing” (Qur’an 2:1–5). The faithful are enjoined to ponder the Qur’an, study both the meaning and applications of its verses, and be guided by them in their daily conduct. The Qur’an is intended to be the basis of Muslim society. The Qur’an regulates the filial relation of a child to parents and their responsibilities toward the child. It regulates the relations of a Muslim to fellow Muslims and non-Muslims, the relationship of a subject to the state and its ruling authorities, and the relationship of a human being to God. It regulates the life of society in times of war and peace, and even stipulates the reasons for and rules governing war. The Qur’an is, in short, a school for Muslims; it disciplines them physically, morally, and spiritually.

THE QUR’AN AS INSPIRATION

The Qur’an is essentially a series of self-contained statements, parables, stories, injunctions, and prohibitions. However, Muslims believe that underlying this diverse grouping is a unity of purpose, message, idiom, and style. The Qur’an in Arabic has been rightly described by Muslims and non-Muslims alike as a symphony of words. Not only the teachings and ideas of the Qur’an but its words and phrases have permeated the lives and speech of Muslims, regardless of differences of language, race, and culture. With the words of the Qur’an a Muslim expresses satisfaction and gratitude to God for success when exclaiming: Tabarak Allah (Blessed be God) or Alhamdu lil-lah (Praise be to God). With the words of the Qur’an a Muslim also expresses sorrow and acceptance of God’s will when losing a loved one or in encountering death by saying “To God do we belong, and to Him we shall return.” With the words of the Qur’an, and especially with the pronouncement of its opening chapter or sura, marriages are blessed, agreements are sealed, and fear and danger believed to be averted.

The Qur’an has been regarded by Muslims as a miracle of speech. Its inimitable style, idioms, and perceived unity are seen to be proof of its divine origin for Muslims. Its interpretation (tafsir) has occupied some of the best minds of the Muslim community. The study of its grammar and language, eloquence, similes and metaphors, parables, stories, and precepts have evolved into a venerable science. Likewise, its recitation, whether in a simple chant (tartil) or highly developed artistic musical rendition (tajwid), has attracted the best voices and talents of Muslim society throughout Muslim history. It is in the recitation of the Qur’an that its power and beauty are felt by pious Muslims. Qur’an reciters have, therefore, occupied a special place of honour in the Muslim community.

The Qur’an has set the standard of excellence for Arabic literature. It has, moreover, permeated the literature of all other Muslim languages. Muslims greet each other with the words of the Qur’an and, with its words and ideas, they express their own feelings and ideas. The Qur’an is believed to have been sent down to Prophet Muhammad and through him to humankind “in clear Arabic speech” (Qur’an 16:103). Although the Qur’an has been translated into most of the major languages of the globe, it is recited in its original language. The Qur’an is translated and its meanings interpreted into other languages only for the purpose of studying and understanding its teachings. To know the Qur’an in all its dimensions, it must be studied in its original language.

This goal has motivated many non-Arab-speaking Muslim scholars to excel in the study of the language of the Qur’an. For centuries, Arabic was the international language of Muslim literature, philosophy, and science. The Quran has been the symbol, source, and framework of Muslim unity.

Islam has spread over a vast geographically and culturally diverse area of the world. It has been adapted to suit the needs of various peoples and cultures. In the process, however, it has assumed many and widely different characters and expressions. The Qur’an underlies this great diversity and provides a fundamental unity in worship practices, literary expression, and popular culture. This paradoxical unity and diversity of Islam and its grounding in the Qur’an is its perceived strength. The principle of unity of the human family is an important Qur’anic principle: Humankind, fear your Lord who created you all from one soul, from it He created its partner, and from them both He scattereth many men and women (Qur’an 4:1). The principle of diversity is also a Qur’anic principle. Difference of race, colour, and creed are divinely preordained.

The Qur’an has been an inexhaustible source of inspiration for Muslims in every discipline of knowledge and human endeavour. Devout Muslims claim that it speaks to every situation in the life of Muslim societies as well as to the condition of every Muslim individual. Muslims have insisted that the Qur’an is applicable to all situations at all times. Yet, for it to be universal in its scope and meaning, the Qur’an is read and committed to heart by every Muslim as though it were sent down at that moment, and for him or her alone.

References

Ayoub, Mahmoud. The Qur’an and Its Interpreters, 2 vols. to date. New York: State University of New York Press, 1984.

Izutsu, T. God and Man in the Koran. Tokyo: Keio Institute of Cultural and Linguistic Studies, 1964.

Kassis, H.E. A Concordance of the Qur’an. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983.

Lings, M. The Qur’anic Art of Calligraphy and Illumination. Boulder: Shambhala, 1976.

Nelson, K. The Art of Reciting the Qur’an. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1985.

Safadgi, Y.H. Islamic Calligraphy. Boulder: Shambhala, 1978.

Tabari, al. The Commentary on the Qur’an. Vol. 1, New York: Oxford University Press, 1987

Tabatabai, M.H. The Qur’an in Islam: Its Impact and Influence on the Life of Muslims. London: Muhammadi Trust, 1987.

In the Qur’an, a pious Muslim hears God’s voice guiding and encouraging, consoling and reproaching, promising the righteous mercy and eternal bliss, while threatening the wicked with wrath and eternal torment. For Muslims, the Qur’an is the word of God, which has entered human time to shape history. According to Muslim sources, the Angel Gabriel revealed himself to Prophet Muhammad in 610 CE while he was in prayerful retreat in a cave on Mount Hira, outside Mecca. It is said that in this initial meeting, the Angel Gabriel pressed Muhammad so vehemently that he felt he was being choked. The Qur’an states that the angel then commanded:

Recite in the name of your Lord who created, created man from a blood clot. Recite, for your Lord is most magnanimous — who taught by the pen; taught man that which he did not know. (Qur’an 96:1–5)

Muslims claim that God warned Prophet Muhammad: We shall surely lay upon you weighty speech, and enjoined him to rise up through most of the night in prayer, and remember fervently what he was told to be, “the Lord of the east and the west” (Qur’an 73:5 and 73:8). For Muslims this “weighty speech” marked Prophet Muhammad as the last Messenger of God to humankind; this event was to have a great impact on the course of human history.

The Qur’an is said to have been communicated to Prophet Muhammad in two ways. Muslims believe that it was communicated through the Angel Gabriel. These communications were revealed in small portions: single verses, groups of verses, and entire chapters or suras over a period of twenty to twenty-two years. The Qur’an for Muslims is not only words that can be uttered, heard, and recorded; it is also the heavenly archetype of which the recited and written Qur’an is only an earthly copy. The Qur’an in its heavenly archetypal form is for Muslims the source of divine revelation throughout human history and is eternally preserved by God. It is the covenant of God with humankind which He established with the children of Adam when they were but ideas or essences in the divine realm. Prophet Muhammad also professed to have experienced this heavenly Qur’an, in addition to having been the recipient of revelation. He would experience a profound spiritual state, shivering on a hot summer day or sweating on a cold winter day, hearing sounds like the ringing of a bell. These sounds transformed themselves in his consciousness into human words, which he memorised and had recorded.

Muslims also believe that the Qur’an was also sent down in part, to Prophet Muhammad’s heart on the “night of determination” (Qur’an 44:3 and 97:1), a blessed night for all Muslims. This event sanctified his life and made Prophet Muhammad an example for Muslims to follow. In the Qur’an, God asked: Am I not your Lord? and those who chose to worship God affirmed as Lord responded with the words: Yes, we bear witness… (Qur’an 7: 172). The Qur’an is the seal and testimony to this covenant. Its message is, for Muslims, a powerful affirmation of divine lordship and Muslim commitment.

The Qur’an as an earthly text has been inextricably bound to Muslim history. It served as an answer to the problems of the Arab society in Prophet Muhammad’s time. The Qur’an was also a response to Prophet Muhammad’s questions about the meaning of human life and the mystery of creation, and was closely linked to the history of the nascent Muslim community in Mecca and, later, in Medina. Many of the Qur’anic verses are said to have been revealed in answer to specific questions or life situations. The answers given are seen by Muslims to be general principles, moral imperatives, or precepts applicable to all times and places. The family of the Prophet, which the Qur’an directly addressed (see Qur’an 33:32), is seen by Muslims to be a model for all families and all societies in the world.

Arrangement of the Qur’an

The Qur’an was subsequently written down and memorised by professing Muslim men and women. Yet, when the Prophet died in 632 CE, ten years after the Hijra, that is, his migration from Mecca to Medina, the Qur’an as it is known today, did not exist. The verses and chapters, or suras, were at that time scattered fragments of the writings of Prophet Muhammad’s scribes, preserved on privately collected pieces of parchment, stone, palm leaf, and leather, in addition to words preserved in human memory. It was during the reign of the third Muslim caliph (or religious leader) Uthman, who governed the existing Muslim community several generations after Prophet Muhammad’s death, that the Qur’an was given its standard form, which remains unchanged to this day. The suras were arranged so that, generally, there would be progression from the longest chapter to the shortest. It is that arrangement that has been preserved as the authoritative version of the Qur’an.

It is essential for every pious Muslim to memorise as much of the Qur’an as possible. A Muslim prayer in the solitude of a room or in a congregation begins with the words of the Qur’an’s opening sura (Al-Fatihah). Prayer is considered to be a way for Muslims to appropriate the word of Allah. This divine-human interchange is eloquently expressed in a hadith qudsi, a saying of the Prophet quoting God:

I have divided the prayer (salat) between me and my servant, and my servant shall have whatever he prays for. For when the servant says: ‘All praise be to God, the Lord of all beings,’ God says: ‘My servant has praised me’. When the servant says: ‘The All-Merciful, the Compassionate,’ God says: ‘My servant has glorified me … this is my portion and to him belongs what remains’. (M. Ayoub, The Qur’an and Its Interpreters).

The Fatihah, the opening sura of the Qur’an, is considered by Muslims to be the perfect prayer. The first three and one-half of its seven verses is a prayer of praise. The rest of the sura is a prayer for divine guidance and grace. Not only the Fatiha but the entire Qur’an is a Muslim prayer. It is also a divine address to Muslims. Thus, in every prayer, God is believed to reveal Himself and the Muslim believer is to receive the word of God. Muslim prayer is the human connection to God through the Qur’an.

THE QUR’AN AS RECITATION

The Qur’an for Muslims is a source of divine blessing and merit, tranquillity and guidance. With it, a child is greeted at birth, by it he or she is guided through life’s journey, and with it, sent to the final abode. This long journey through life with the Qur’an is to include a recitation of the entire Qur’an over a specific period or a week, a month, or longer in accordance with divisions of the sacred text for daily recitation. This process is known as Khatm al-Qur’an or completion of its recitation. On special occasions, such as the fasting month of Ramadan, the pious undertake to recite the entire Qur’an by dividing it up into thirty equal parts that correspond with the thirty nights of the Muslim sacred month. Prophet Muhammad is said to have called such a person who journeys through the Qur’an “the sojourning traveller”. This is because when the reciter comes to the end of his or her recitation, he or she must start over at the beginning again.

Muslims find the recitation, memorising, copying or possessing a copy of the Qur’an in their homes a source of great blessing. Indeed, it is believed that on the day of resurrection, the status of a Muslim man or woman in paradise will be determined by the number of verses of the Qur’an that he or she has memorised during their earthly life. An even greater source of merit and blessing for Muslims is found in studying and understanding the principles and precepts of the Qur’an. The Prophet is said to have declared: There are no people assembled in one of the houses of God to recite the Book of God and study it together but that the sakinah (divine tranquillity) descends upon them. The term sakinah is possibly derived from the Hebrew term sheckinah, which means “to the glory of Jehovah.” Such a derivation may have been the result of contact Prophet Muhammad had with both Jews and Christians prior to and during his revelations. “Mercy covers them, angels draw near to them, and God remembers them in the company of those who are with him.” The reciters of the Qur’an, those who memorise its words and live by its precepts, are said to be heirs to the Prophet. The Qur’an is believed to sanctify the heart and home of the Muslim and make him or her a partaker of Divine revelation. Its word inscribed on a building, a business, or vehicle is believed to invoke a blessing or protection.

Above all, the Qur’an is “a book of guidance to the God-fearing” (Qur’an 2:1–5). The faithful are enjoined to ponder the Qur’an, study both the meaning and applications of its verses, and be guided by them in their daily conduct. The Qur’an is intended to be the basis of Muslim society. The Qur’an regulates the filial relation of a child to parents and their responsibilities toward the child. It regulates the relations of a Muslim to fellow Muslims and non-Muslims, the relationship of a subject to the state and its ruling authorities, and the relationship of a human being to God. It regulates the life of society in times of war and peace, and even stipulates the reasons for and rules governing war. The Qur’an is, in short, a school for Muslims; it disciplines them physically, morally, and spiritually.

THE QUR’AN AS INSPIRATION

The Qur’an is essentially a series of self-contained statements, parables, stories, injunctions, and prohibitions. However, Muslims believe that underlying this diverse grouping is a unity of purpose, message, idiom, and style. The Qur’an in Arabic has been rightly described by Muslims and non-Muslims alike as a symphony of words. Not only the teachings and ideas of the Qur’an but its words and phrases have permeated the lives and speech of Muslims, regardless of differences of language, race, and culture. With the words of the Qur’an a Muslim expresses satisfaction and gratitude to God for success when exclaiming: Tabarak Allah (Blessed be God) or Alhamdu lil-lah (Praise be to God). With the words of the Qur’an a Muslim also expresses sorrow and acceptance of God’s will when losing a loved one or in encountering death by saying “To God do we belong, and to Him we shall return.” With the words of the Qur’an, and especially with the pronouncement of its opening chapter or sura, marriages are blessed, agreements are sealed, and fear and danger believed to be averted.

The Qur’an has been regarded by Muslims as a miracle of speech. Its inimitable style, idioms, and perceived unity are seen to be proof of its divine origin for Muslims. Its interpretation (tafsir) has occupied some of the best minds of the Muslim community. The study of its grammar and language, eloquence, similes and metaphors, parables, stories, and precepts have evolved into a venerable science. Likewise, its recitation, whether in a simple chant (tartil) or highly developed artistic musical rendition (tajwid), has attracted the best voices and talents of Muslim society throughout Muslim history. It is in the recitation of the Qur’an that its power and beauty are felt by pious Muslims. Qur’an reciters have, therefore, occupied a special place of honour in the Muslim community.

The Qur’an has set the standard of excellence for Arabic literature. It has, moreover, permeated the literature of all other Muslim languages. Muslims greet each other with the words of the Qur’an and, with its words and ideas, they express their own feelings and ideas. The Qur’an is believed to have been sent down to Prophet Muhammad and through him to humankind “in clear Arabic speech” (Qur’an 16:103). Although the Qur’an has been translated into most of the major languages of the globe, it is recited in its original language. The Qur’an is translated and its meanings interpreted into other languages only for the purpose of studying and understanding its teachings. To know the Qur’an in all its dimensions, it must be studied in its original language.

This goal has motivated many non-Arab-speaking Muslim scholars to excel in the study of the language of the Qur’an. For centuries, Arabic was the international language of Muslim literature, philosophy, and science. The Qur’an has been the symbol, source, and framework of Muslim unity.

Islam has spread over a vast geographically and culturally diverse area of the world. It has been adapted to suit the needs of various peoples and cultures. In the process, however, it has assumed many and widely different characters and expressions. The Qur’an underlies this great diversity and provides a fundamental unity in worship practices, literary expression, and popular culture. This paradoxical unity and diversity of Islam and its grounding in the Qur’an is its perceived strength. The principle of unity of the human family is an important Qur’anic principle: Humankind, fear your Lord who created you all from one soul, from it He created its partner, and from them both He scattereth many men and women (Qur’an 4:1). The principle of diversity is also a Qur’anic principle. Difference of race, colour, and creed are divinely preordained.

The Qur’an has been an inexhaustible source of inspiration for Muslims in every discipline of knowledge and human endeavour. Devout Muslims claim that it speaks to every situation in the life of Muslim societies as well as to the condition of every Muslim individual. Muslims have insisted that the Qur’an is applicable to all situations at all times. Yet, for it to be universal in its scope and meaning, the Qur’an is read and committed to heart by every Muslim as though it were sent down at that moment, and for him or her alone.

[littlemissnack]

The Next Generation Part 3 Chapter 10

The story of Albus Potter, Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy, and the countless adventure’s they get into in there years at Hogwarts.

To start reading from the beginning click here: http://littlemissnack.tumblr.com/tagged/fanfiction

Here is the fanfiction link if you would prefer to read it on there: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9303697/1/The-Next-Generation 

And AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/807773 Or if you prefer to read it on here, here you go:

And Movellas: https://www.movellas.com/story/201309292252551812-the-next-generation

After Sienna’s revelation the gang had began exploring the edges of the forbidden forest in hopes of find Morana. After Albus reminded everybody about the man that had attacked him for his ‘mistress’ it became clear to the group that they were servants of Morana. Rose devised a careful schedule that allowed for Albus and Thalia to spend as much time as possible on the journal and her, Scorpius & Sienna to patrol the edges of the forest in case there were any more trespassers. Rose had everybody’s day scheduled down to the minute in order to allow time for examining the journal, patrolling the borders of the grounds, classes, homework, food (with the unfortunate sacrifice of certain meals a day) and a few hours of sleep a night. At first Albus thought this to be completely over the top but when he found himself barely awake in his 3pm potions class with no clue whether he had a free period for journal study in the common room, quidditch practice or his allotted eating time he found himself thankful for Rose’s colour coded schedule.  

As the looming celebrations got closer and closer Albus became more and more thankful for the welcome distraction from thinking about, what felt to Albus, a glorified press conference with his parents Infront of the entire school. Rose on the other hand had gone into full planning mode, preparing her outfit, preparation interview questions for when the paparazzi inevitably hounded her and various poses and outfits to be photographed in on top of all her other commitments. Rose often prided herself in her time management skills and wonders how she’d cope with being the daughter of the minister of magic without it. Scorpius wasn’t worried about the upcoming events however, as he had already planned his escape to the room of requirement as soon as the inevitable questions about his death eater father came. at least he didn’t have to worry about his father being there like Albus did, it was clear his father wasn’t welcome here.

With Albus and Thalia completely preoccupied with journal deciphering in their free time and Rose in full on preparation mode without a moment to spare, Scorpius found himself left with Sienna often. Scorpius held nothing against Sienna, but he hadn’t spent an awful lot of time with Sienna, of course they’d had their group meetings together, but she was mostly focused on Albus during this time and they hadn’t really been alone a lot. But now with Rose’s scheduling system it meant that Scorpius, Sienna and Rose rotated patrol in pairs, so Scorpius had many hours now patrolling with just Sienna, which Scorpius found were the quietest times. When he patrolled with Rose she almost couldn’t seem to shut up, discussing theories as well as their upcoming homework and exams came naturally with Rose, it was easy for Scorpius to talk to her. But Sienna and he had little to talk about, every now and again one of them would attempt small talk but it never got far, that is until the particularly hot summers day the day before the celebration when Scorpius and Sienna were patrolling in between there care of magical creatures and Ancient Runes exams. As they were approaching the boating house Sienna unexpectedly turned to him in another attempt to make small talk and asked,

“Excited for tomorrow?” Scorpius could see it was just another attempt to make their patrol more exciting but as with all their attempts at conversation, they had little to talk about.

“I’m not going, I’ll make a quick appearance, watch Albus’ Dads’ speech then I’ll head up to the room of requirement for the rest.” Sienna’s eyes narrowed slightly in confusion as they sat down on the boat house steps as Rose instructed them to do while patrolling the perimeter.

“Why? Everyone’s talking about how epic it’s going to be. There’s supposed to the grandest feast hogwarts has ever seen, and I saw Harlow setting up the quidditch pitch earlier so you know there’s going to be some kind of contest, and Penny swears she overheard Longbottom and Hart discussing a fireworks display…” Sienna rambled to try to fill the silence but was quietened by Scorpius’ response.

“And a bunch of press. Forget the feast, the only thing we know for certain that will be there are press. I don’t really feel like getting a camera shoved in my face and being asked if I’m a death eater, or if my father approves of my Gryffindor lifestyle, or where my mother is” Sienna was quieted for a moment before smiling slightly and asking.

“Don’t know why they’d bother asking you that when your scandalous love affairs are far more interesting! Who wants to read about politics and death eaters when you could read about a torrid affair between you and Rose and Albus!” Scorpius snorted as he laughed with her for the first time in what felt like a long time.

“Me, Rose and Albus!?”

“Oh, come on! You know that slimy Rita Skeeter been all over you, Rose and Albus’ friendship since you all started Hogwarts, it’s only a matter of time before she starts reporting about how your breaking Rose’s heart with your romantic rendezvous’ with Albus!” Sienna held her arms out as if she were imagining a newspaper title “I can see it now ‘Malfoy caught with Potter in a secret shameful love affair breaking Weasley’s heart!’” Scorpius was laughing down to his core now, desperately trying to catch him breath as he and Sienna were nearly doubled over in stitches.

“Oi you’d better watch it tomorrow, if you get caught with Albus you’ll be the Slytherin temptress ruining his heroic Destiny” Scorpius countered making Sienna almost choke with laughter. As the continued to imagine various newspaper headline and the imaginary stories the press would run with them it was 17 minutes after there expected leave time from there post that Sienna and Scorpius finally calmed down and realised how late they were. As they began walking along the lake Sienna turned to Scorpius to ask,

“You can’t let the rubbish they write effect you. None of what they write matters. You’re a good person and you’ve got friends that have your back and that’s all that matters, not the way a bunch of idiots who hang onto the Daily Prophet’s every word sees you as. You should come tomorrow, have fun.” Scorpius was thrown by Sienna’s profound insight and was once again reminded of how much of a mystery she was to him.

“Thanks. But It’s not so much the fact that the press will be there but the fact that it’s just another reminder of who’s not.” Scorpius looked down at his feet as he tried to regain his composure.

“Look I know what it’s like to get constantly reminded of what you don’t have, believe me I get it. But at some point you have to stop focusing on the fact that you don’t have a mum and focus on the fact that you’ve got us, stop fixating how you don’t have a dad and remember that you have Teddy and the Weasley. You could spend your entire life feeling jealous of what you don’t have but you’ll never be able to appreciate everything you do. At some point parents stop mattering as much as having a support system around you to call family. Couse we’re each other’s family now, you, me Rose, Albus & Thalia were a family, we’ve got each other’s backs. So yeah, your parents aren’t there but who needs them!? Your family will be there with you.” Scorpius studied Sienna’s firm expression and it became clear that this talk wasn’t just for him.

“Are your parents not coming either?” Scorpius tentatively asked, he knew how well prying into Sienna’s private life usually went.

“Don’t have any. Care home kid.” She responded he pace quickening, so she was slightly ahead of him.

“Oh…. I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

“Don’t be sorry, can’t miss what you never had.”

“But you can miss the idea of it. The idea of that perfect family life you always imagined having, parents to come home too in their little cosy house, you can miss the idea of a family without ever actually having one.” Scorpius thought about all the times he’d imagined what it would be like to live in a simple little cottage with his parents tucking him in and reading him stories and healing scraped knees. The memory of all those nights spent wondering still stung Scorpius today. Sienna’s face softened as she allowed Scorpius to catch up with her and Scorpius wondered if she too and stayed up at night imagining what a real family might feel like.

“Yeah not having parents sucks. Especially on days like tomorrow when you look around at everyone with the perfect happy little families and wonder why you don’t get to have that. And as much as I like Albus seeing the way he complains about his parents just makes me want to rip his head off…”

“It’s like he doesn’t even realise how lucky he is! He has a mum and a dad that just want to love and care for him and he doesn’t even appreciate it!” Scorpius interrupted finishing Sienna’s thought.

“Exactly! I can’t even listen when he’s in his whiny complain about his dad mode! Like he expects us to feel sorry for him because his dad loves him too much!” Sienna rolled her eyes.

“I thought you liked Albus?” Scorpius dared to be brave now that Sienna’s guard was lowering to try and figure out more about what was going on with Sienna and Albus.

“I do.” Sienna saw the analysis on Scorpius’ face and raised her eyebrow in defiance. “Just because he’s cute doesn’t mean I can’t also find him annoying, I thought you and freckles would understand that blondie!” Sienna smirked.

“Rose… no… we’re not... I mean...” Scorpius looked over at Sienna’s smug face and realised how pointless denial would be at this point. “Rose doesn’t think of me like that.” Scorpius sighed in defeat.

“Rose doesn’t think of anybody like that right now. She’s so wrapped up in organising and scheduling and schoolwork to see anything else. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings though.” Scorpius tried to hide the optimism in his face, but he judged by Sienna’s smirk that he hadn’t done a great job.

“So, if you think Albus is so cute why haven’t you made your move yet?” Scorpius countered to try to let the blush in his face go down.

“Same reason you’re not making your move on freckles. He’s too busy with that stupid journal and Thalia to take a second look at me right now.” Sienna noticed the look of silent judgement on Scorpius’ face and her eyebrows knitted together in frustration. “What!?”

“Oh, come on! That’s such a load of rubbish!” Sienna opened her mouth to protest but Scorpius cut her off before she could even continue.

“If you’re so wise about MY love life, you tell me mister know it all why haven’t I told him yet?” Scorpius studied her face for a moment, challenge and defiance written all over it.

“You’re scared. You’re scared he might turn you down. You’re scared of letting someone in, only to have your heart shattered. You’re not holding back because he’s so busy, you’re holding back because he’s been so busy with Thalia. Your worried that you might tell him how you feel only to have him reject you for Thalia. You can act as tough as you want but your just as scared of rejection as the rest of us!” Sienna was stunned into silence for half a moment before taking a deep breath and raising his hand ready to object but as Scorpius looked at her with his eyebrow raised in challenge, Sienna realised it was pointless, after all the stuff she’d already said to Scorpius today what was one more secret. So, against her better judgement Sienna sighed as her body deflated. No words seemed to be able to leave her mouth as Scorpius met her eyes and all the was able to do was shrug.

“it’s okay to let yourself be open with him. You may get your heart broken, you may not, but the important thing is you tried. You gave it a shot which means you won’t spend your life wondering what could have happened. It’s okay to let yourself be vulnerable every now and again.  You don’t have to keep this guard up.” Scorpius placed his hand on her shoulder as he sat next to her against the quidditch pitch which was there next designated post on patrol. Scorpius thought Sienna might cry he’d never seen her show this much emotion. Sienna seemed incapable of words as she feared the second, she opened her mouth her body might betray her, and the tears may fall instead.

“I mean if you never give it a shot, you’ll never get to be the slytherin temptress pulling him away from his torrid love affair with me! What will the papers write about then!” Sienna couldn’t help but laugh as a few tears escaped down her cheeks and she quickly brushed them away.

“You’re such a hypocrite Blondie! You’re telling me what to do when your too cowardly to tell Freckles you dream about her every night!” Sienna rolled her eyes trying her best to deflect from the heavy stuff Scorpius had said that was still sitting in her chest.

“Hey! That makes me sound like a lovesick puppy… I’m not that desperate…” Sienna raised a knowing eyebrow, Scorpius started to protest before letting out a big groan. “I’m pretty pathetic, aren’t I?”

“Pretty pathetic? You’re a mess!” Sienna and Scorpius laughed.

“She’s just so driven, especially with everything going on lately… I just don’t want it to get in the way for her…” Sienna rolled her eyes in disbelieve

“Dude! You gotta toughen up! Rose Weasley is a headstrong badass, that girl will eat you alive if you don’t Gryffindor up! Freckles needs someone who can’t be bossed around by her. She needs someone to bring her back when she goes to far and push her when she starts to doubt herself, if your gunna stop pining after her and start being with her your gunna have to be brave enough to stop letting her tell you what to do all the time! If I recall in first year you didn’t take any of her bossy stuff, what happened to that?” Scorpius thought back to first year for a moment, how frustratingly stubborn Rose had been and how he’d stuck his ground against it. It was different then; she wasn’t like she was now… or maybe he wasn’t. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something had changed.

“It was different back then…”

“Look do you want to be Rose Weasley’s boyfriend?”

“Yes” Scorpius reluctantly admitted

“Then you need to stop letting her treat you like your little pet and make her realise you’re here and a viable option. And that starts with telling her how you feel, even if she’s too busy to hear it. Put yourself out there.” Scorpius realised she was right as he thought back to the many times he’d put her first without even thinking of his own feelings, now was the one time he needed to think about himself and stop thinking about whether it inconvenienced Rose and tell her how he felt.

“I will if you will.” Scorpius challenged. Sienna read his face for a moment realising how serious he was.

“Okay fine. By the end of the summer, I’ll tell Albus if you tell Rose.”

“Deal.” Scorpius and Sienna shook hands and for the first time Scorpius wondered how he and Sienna had avoided properly talking up until now. She felt like the first person to really be able to understand what he was going through; he felt a kinship with Sienna he hadn’t felt with anybody else. Maybe this was what it felt like to have a sister, someone to always have your back even when she’d constantly annoying you.

“Come on Blondie, if we waste anymore time Freckles is going to have us hung, drawn and quartered by the school gates!”

“I don’t get it! Why do you keep calling me Blondie, your blonde too!” Scorpius finally spoke up about the question that had been bugging him since he met her. Sienna laughed as he leant up to put her arm around his shoulder and rustle his hair.

“I have my reasons, not that you’ll ever find them out, Blondie.”

   The next morning the Hogwarts ground became entirely unrecognizable almost over night. Banners, streamers & balloons had filled the grounds, the quidditch pitch had been transformed into a competition and entertainment ground with a duelling ground on the one side, a wizard on a pedestal doing various transfiguration tricks to an impressed group of children, a flying display from the English national quidditch team and various other attractions, mainly designed to keep the large number of young children and teenagers occupied. Between the pitch and the castle a multitude of tables of covered in every food and drink known to man had been prepared,  thousands of blanket and sun blocking umbrellas had been set out next to it for families to sit and eat the prepared food in a picnic style. At the base grounds of the castle a podium had been set up ready for the number of speakers the ministry had managed to procure, highlights included the opening speech by Minister for magic herself, Hermione Granger, a message on the importance of preserving Hogwarts by former headmistress Minerva McGonagall and a most anticipated inspirational speech from the man himself, Harry Potter. A number of benches had been set up between Hagrid’s hut and the Herbology green houses to view the speeches, Headmaster Harlow had tried to place some under the Whomping willow but the tree had simply swatted them away until they simply gave up trying and moved the benches just out of the trees reach. Many local businesses had set up stalls for people to sample and buy their products in the designated stall area by the lake reaching around to the boating house. By far the most exciting though was the huge preparation area along the right-side of the lake where a multitude of fireworks were being set up for what was sure to be a fantastic closing display.

               As Albus watched the mass crowds began to seep through the mass security set up at the gates. He knew he wouldn’t be catching a glimpse of his father among the crowd, oh no. His father would already be in headmaster’s office. Both his Father and Rose’s Mother were far to important to be let in with the rest of the crowds, they’d likely be preparing their speech in there already. Albus was thankful when all the other boys in his dorm room had began to filter out so he could enjoy at least a few moments peace before he had to meet his father and play perfect son again. As Albus buttoned up his smartest maroon shirt and dark blue jeans he couldn’t help but wonder how it felt to just have a normal family. Not to have a hundred photos taken of him or every watching and listen to him as he spoke to his dad. But just to be able to simply be with his dad like any other normal kid. But he wasn’t any normal kid and his dad wasn’t a normal dad, he was a Potter. He learnt long ago that came with sacrifices when it came to the press. As Albus did up his shoelaces Rose stuck her head through the door.

“Are you still not ready! Professor Harlow was very clear that we were to be in his office at EXACTLY 9am! Come on!” Albus quickly finished his shoelaces and examined his hair in the mirror, desperately trying to get it to lie flat, if it lay flat maybe he’d look a little bit less like him… but just his luck even his hair failed him. Eventually he gave up and turned to follow Rose who Albus couldn’t help but noticed looked perfect for the occasion. Rose’s hair looked neater than he’d ever seen it Albus wondered how long it had taken her to get it to fall flat in the twisted bun behind her head. Albus hadn’t seen Rose in makeup before at least not that he’d ever noticed. Her eyes had a hint of blue eye shadow behind and her peach lip gloss was undeniable. Albus hadn’t been aware till now that Rose even had her ears pierced but the blue studs in her ears looked lovely next to her sapphire sun dress. As he came closer, he noticed she seemed taller, almost the same size of him now and he realised she was wearing heels. He hadn’t seen Rose in formal wear before, he was used to her jumpers and tights he supposed he shouldn’t have been that surprised but she looked so comfortable in her formal wear that Albus was painfully reminded of how much more she fit into this famous parent world than he did. Everything about Rose exuded the daughter of the minister of magic whereas nothing about Albus screamed son of a famous hero. As he and Rose met up with their siblings and headed towards the office a looming sense of dread filled into Albus’ gut. As they opened the doors Albus was first greeted by his mother in her tight green dress who gave him a hug. Albus found his mother was a lot easier to deal with than his father most of the time, but events like this often reminded Albus that his mother was also a famous quidditch player as well as a war hero, meaning she was just another person for Albus to let down. As his mother straightened his brother’s shirt and brushed off his sister’s skirt, she talked the three of them through various things the press might ask them and what to say and what not say. Albus tried to focus but all Albus could focus on was the mounting tension filling in his gut. In a few moments he’d step out there and thousands of pictures would be taken all day of him and his parents and if he didn’t do everything just right they’d all be discussing how he was the disappointment of the family again, no matter what his mother was telling him Albus knew there was only one rule today, don’t be himself. No one wanted him today they wanted the perfect little image they’d created of Harry Potter’s son and he needed to be that, or he’d disappoint everyone. The all too familiar buzzing filled Albus’ ears as his thoughts flooded with all the things he had to do and say to make sure everything he did was what they all wanted. Suddenly Albus was brought out of his spiralling thoughts by his fathers’ hand on his shoulder.

“You doing okay bud?” Harry looked down at his youngest son. Albus gently nodded. “Should be a fun day all in all.” His father stared out of the window listening to the gathering masses outside.

Albus couldn’t help but think about how easy it was for his father to go out there and make all the public appearances and still have fun doing it. Albus couldn’t enjoy a day filled with worrying about what everyone else was going to think about him or print about him, how could he do it all so easily? The speeches, the press, being that heroic person, they all wanted to see. Of course, it was easy for him Albus thought, he’s not pretending like I am, that’s just who he is, none of this is me.

“Is Uncle Charlie coming today dad?” Lily asked as she came up next to Albus. Harry was brought away from his thoughts and looked down at his daughter with a smile.

“Of course! He’s the one in charge of the dragon they’ve got opposite the greenhouses.” Lily’s face immediately lit up and Harry chucked as he watched his daughter’s immediate excitement.

“Look guys, if nothing else please just remember this, just be on your best behaviour and remember your representing not just yourself but all of us today… that means you James! I don’t want to deal with another junior marauders prank today, especially not Infront of all this press!” Ginny’s strict expression turned towards her eldest child who smiled wickedly at her.

“Wouldn’t dream of it mum!” James laughed at Ginny’s narrowed eyes.

Albus once again wondered how the thought of representing the ultimate war hero didn’t absolutely terrify his siblings the way it made him almost want to vomit. He noticed Rose and Hugo talking with there mother on the other side of the room and wondered if they were getting a similar speech or if aunt Hermione and uncle Ron just knew that Rose and Hugo would be perfect representations of them.

“It’s time” Professor Harlow gently tapped Aunt Hermione’s shoulder and Albus took a deep breath knowing what that meant… time for the charade to begin.

  Thalia was excitedly showing her parents and little sister Violet around the school, and with Albus and Rose preoccupied with their parents, Scorpius had no choice but the find a bench and sit alone waiting for the opening speech, that was until Sienna sat down next to him.

“This seat taken?” Scorpius gestured for her to sit down and smiled over, realising that she wasn’t just making sure he wasn’t alone, she was making sure she wasn’t alone either. Scorpius’ smile faulted as he caught sight of a figure behind her in a smart coat, a coat Scorpius recognised, as the stranger turned to face him Scorpius was left to wonder, why on earth his father was here.

  As Thalia sat Violet on her knee while the minister gave her speech on the importance of coming together as a community. she was reminded of how amazing magic had felt to her at 6 years old too, the wonder in Violets eyes reminded her of the first time she’d seen hogwarts.

“Balloon!” Violet shouted in excitement as she caught sight of a bunch of green, red, yellow and blue balloons meant to represent all the hogwarts houses. As Thalia watched her almost jump out of her arms pointing at the balloons she smiled.

“Go on then, go get one” She resigned herself much to her 6-year-old sister’s joy. Thalia placed her onto the ground and watched her run off to man nearly handing out the balloons to the children. Thalia glanced up to see Rose solemnly stood by her mothers’ side and was realised how well Rose fit into the role of minister’s daughter, her put together demeaner made her perfect for the role. Thalia made a mental note to remember to introduce her parents to Rose, it would be nice for them to see she had some friends here.

Thalia glanced back over to see if Violet had selected her balloon yet and her heart skipped a beat as she realised, she couldn’t see her anymore.

 After her mother’s speech Rose had taken multiple photos for the press and answered some of there questions, after which she had some time to enjoy the day. She, Hugo and their parents had enjoyed a lovely lunch on one of the picnic blankets before entering the stadium, formerly the quidditch pitch. Rose knew how anxious these public events made her younger brother, so she resolved to keep him close to allow her to step in if needs be with any pushy photographer or rude interviewer. As Rose was taking note of the fantastic quidditch display and remarking to her father how much more remarkable it would be if they’d got the Chuddley canons, her and her fathers’ favourite team. Rose felt her arm being tugged away. She looked up to find a particularly star eyed woman who’d just snapped a photo of her.

“Rose! What’s your opinion on your mothers new law allowing the recognition of centaur land rights?” As Rose gave her standard rehearsed answer, she got hounded with more an more questions, each one she tried to answer with the same composure, she’d practiced this after all Rose noticed her family had moved on and quickly excused herself. It wasn’t long before she found her fathers familiar orange hair and re-joined them. Only to notice one significant member missing, her brother Hugo.

  “What are you doing here!” Scorpius hissed, after the speech he’d excused himself from Sienna and made his way over to the bench his father was sitting on alone. He had managed to gain significant attention; it was hard for Scorpius not to hear the whispering as people stared at them.

“There are no restrictions on who can attend this event, and as a father of a pupil at the school I felt it my place to…” Draco failed to meet the desperation in his sons’ eyes willing him to be anywhere else.

“It’s NOT your place!” Scorpius tried not to raise his voice so as not to attract anymore onlookers.

“Scorpius, you don’t talk to me like that!” The all too familiar firmness filled Draco’s voice mixed with a hint of surprise at having his son speak back to him.

“I will speak to you however I want. Go home father. This is a celebration, a day of remembrance and joy and your presence here is unwelcome” Draco looked down his nose at Scorpius meeting his eyes for the first time.

“You haven’t been home…” Draco began changing the subject Scorpius quickly cut him off.

“I’m staying with extended family. Now why are you here.” Scorpius met his father’s eyes with a fierce defiance his father didn’t recognise in him. There was a hint of pride in his face that filled Scorpius with hatred.

“I’m just as entitled to be here as anyone else. Are you going to join me in seeing the activities of the day?” Scorpius’ body filled with disgust; this was a press opportunity for him. A chance to parade his son around to show their family paying their respects and making amends, except he didn’t mean any of it.

“No. This may just be a chance to be seen for you, but it actually means something to those people who fought in the battle, lost people… how could you use that as a publicity scheme!”

“I…” Scorpius cut him off by walking away. It made him sick to his stomach to stay there a moment longer, he looked out to try to find Sienna but found she’d left her seat at there previous bench and saw trace of her.

  As lunch time began to approach Albus mentally congratulated himself for making it through half the day without breaking. He’d smiled for all the photos, answered all the questions and withstood all the stares. But as he stood in the transfiguration yard with his father and brother listening to his father rehearse his speech Albus knew his real challenge would be in the next few minutes. Getting through his dads’ speech without breaking would easily be his hardest task, luckily, he was saved from his downwards thoughts by his mother’s abrupt entrance to the courtyard that had stopped his father in his tracks.

“Any sign of her?” Harry asked Ginny, fiddling with his cue cards out of habit.

“Nothing! Last I saw her she went to see Charlie and the dragon, but Charlie said she wandered off, I can’t seem to find her. We’ll just have to do it without her!” Ginny sighed. Lily’s frequent wondering trips had often been a point of annoyance with his parents.

“Oh, Merlin it’ll look awful if it’s just the boys, I can see the headlines now, they’ll say we’re neglecting her!” Harry argued, Ginny sympathetically met her eyes.

“You’re on in 2 minutes there’s not a lot we can do. Hopefully she’ll turn up, but you know what Lily’s like! What else can we do?” Albus’ wondered what adventure his sister was having this time and as his parents discussed their options Albus’ couldn’t help himself but wonder towards the window and glance out at the crowd. Wondering where his sister had disappeared off too this time.

[casandpuppies]

October Destiel AU Challenge: Day 13 - Would You Like to Buy Some Honey?

31 Days of Destiel Drabbles: Day 21 Day 13 - Farmer’s Market

Of all the places that Dean wants to be on a Saturday morning, this place is just about last on the list. For starters, it’s nine o’ clock and he doesn’t have to work today, so he could still be sleeping right now. Hell, if he’s going to be awake anyway, he’d almost rather be at work. At least he enjoys working on cars.

This…this is a different story entirely. He eyes the scene in front of him with suspicion. There’s vendors everywhere and far more people than Dean thinks is reasonable for what’s basically a glorified grocery store. A group of people picks that moment to pass by them, nearly running him over in the process. Looks to be the rich, hipster type. Same as probably literally everyone here, because who else would spend this much money on goddamn vegetables? He scowls at them and then turns the look on Sam. Sam, the whole reason he’s out of bed and here this early in the morning on a precious day off.

“There’s supermarkets for a reason, Sam.”

Sam just gives Dean one of his patented you uncultured swine how are we even related looks. “Yeah, but farmer’s markets are better, because all the stuff is fresh and local and handmade and you can’t get that at Walmart. It’s better for you, it tastes better, and it supports the local economy.”

In response, Dean rolls his eyes and makes an unconvinced grunt. “Okay, I get it, you’re a tree-hugging hippy, but the food at real stores tastes fine, hasn’t killed me yet, and it doesn’t cost half my paycheck.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Sam says in that passive-aggressive tone of his. Like Dean actually had a choice in the matter. Like he chose to come of his own free will. Like Dean’s constitution is any match for Sam’s puppy eyes and incessant pleading, even after all these years. Especially when he had to go and involve his ridiculous and disgusting crush on Eileen and then proceed to stroke Dean’s ego by complimenting his cooking skills. So of course Dean is going to help his little brother impress Eileen by helping him cook an epic dinner for their weekly get-together. And if that means Sam wants to cook with all this fancy, organic crap, then Dean will grin and bear it. Doesn’t mean he has to like it, though.

“I was promised pie,” Dean replies skeptically, because he sure as hell doesn’t see any pie so far. “Of course I had to come if there’s pie involved.”

Sam makes an annoyed huffing sound. “You’ll get your pie,” he says, beckoning Dean forward. “Now come on, you’re the one who insisted I shouldn’t be let near a kitchen, so help me pick stuff.”

Dean sighs, but follows after Sam, anyway. It’s going to be a long day.

--

Sam may be right to some extent when he talks about how Dean is the one with all the natural talent in the kitchen, but even he can only do so much when he’s never even heard of half of this shit, before. What even is arugula? It sounds like a Harry Potter spell.

Although, he has to admit that he’s seen some pretty nice stuff. Maybe not so superior in quality that he’d come all the way across town and pay twice as much, but still. He’s snatched up some nice lettuce and tomatoes because that stuff always goes good on burgers and he’s still hoping he might convince Sam to let him make his famous burgers for dinner.

But he still stands by his thought that a farmer’s market is a hipster’s wet dream. Not only are there countless stands with produce and nuts and other foods, but he’s seen several vendors selling those hippie bags and paintings and even some hats, to name a few of the crafts. He doesn’t keep up with what kids do these days, but he can imagine this is the kind of place the kids might “Instagram” about. It’s…kind of disgustingly cute, if he’s being honest.

Still no pie though. Maybe he’s supposed to buy apples or pecans or whatever and make his own pie, but he feels that’s definitely cheating the rules and he doesn’t intend to let Sam get away with that.

It’s been about half an hour since he got separated from Sam, and he never imagined this place would be big enough that finding a giant like his brother would be an issue. Somehow, he has a feeling Sam’s avoiding him on purpose, because Sam is a big nerd who’s probably having the time of his life here.

“Can I help you find something?” a deep voice calls out to him, making Dean realize he’s been standing in front of this tent without moving for longer than is probably socially acceptable. Turning towards the voice, he sees a dark-haired man sitting under a yellow awning, and regarding him with a pleasant smile and curious, blue eyes. He’s actually young, and pretty damn good-looking, if Dean does say so himself, which kind of breaks his (admittedly unfair and untrue) stereotype of all these vendors being old farmers and lonely, rich housewives. At least he doesn’t look one of these new-age hippie types.

Dean clears his throat, embarrassed to be caught standing around like an idiot. “Nah, man, just looking for my brother. He dragged me here and sent me on a mission to help him find the perfect ingredients for a dinner he wants to make to impress his girlfriend. And he ran away from me, and now I kinda have no idea what I’m doing.” Why on earth he feels compelled to overshare is beyond him, but fortunately the guy just nods along like he’s interested, saving Dean some degree of awkwardness, and then he smiles.

“Well, if you’re at a loss for ingredients, I could suggest something,” he says, gesturing to the table in front of him, “but you might think it big-headed of me.”

Only now does Dean take the time to actually look and see what this guy’s selling. He doesn’t seem like the super artsy and crafty kind of guy, but he doesn’t necessarily seem like a farmer, either. Of course, in all fairness, there’s not a specific “type” these kinds of people have to fit into, so Dean can’t really judge by looks alone.

Turns out, there’s a whole army of jars, arranged in a few neat little lines along the table, from bigger sizes in the back to smaller sizes in the front. Each jar is filled with a thick amber liquid, which Dean recognizes after a moment.

“Honey?” He raises an eyebrow. The label reads ‘Castiel Novak Apiaries,’ and has a phone number and address written underneath, with a little cartoon bee drawn off to the side. “You made all this?”

The man—Castiel or Casteel or however the hell he pronounces it—chuckles. “Well, technically, I didn’t make it. The bees get the credit for that. I just harvested it. But yes, I’m Castiel, which is what I assume you were getting at.” He sticks his hand out across the table in kind of an awkward motion.

“Of course.” Dean snorts, but takes the offered hand and shakes it. “Dean. And as tempting as it is, I don’t think my brother would appreciate me coming back with nothing but honey. Can’t really do much with it, you know?”

Castiel tilts his head and gives Dean what can only be described as a challenging look. “On the contrary. I’m told my honey makes very good apple pies.”

He perks up at the mention of pie. “Now you’re just trying to bribe me, I swear.”

Castiel grins and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, before letting his eyes very obviously rove over Dean’s body. “You look like the kind of guy who appreciates pie.”

“So you are trying to bribe me.” If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say that was a flirtatious remark. Not that he’s opposed to the idea, of course, but why would this guy even be interested?

Castiel shrugs innocently. “I am trying to sell a commodity, here. Is it working, or do I need to discuss other benefits of honey?” Okay, that was definitely an attempt at flirting.

Dean tries to resist the urge to roll his eyes. So maybe the guy isn’t a hippie or hipster or an old farmer, but he is kind of weird. Weird in an awkward, dorky way. Weird in an almost endearing way. He leans closer to the table and picks up one of the jars, turning it over in his hands. He decides to try his own form of Winchester charm and see how that does. “I don’t know, man, the mention of pie has almost got me sold, but how do I know you’re telling the truth? You don’t have any pie to prove it.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Castiel raises an eyebrow and the corner of his lips pull up into a little smile. He crosses his arms. “I suppose I’ll just have to make you one.”

Dean mirrors Castiel’s smile, and his eyes are probably lighting up at the prospect of a maybe-date and pie. “Oh, is that so? You’re quite the dedicated salesman.”

By the time Sam finally finds Dean, Dean’s gotten a number, a time and place, and another probably addition to their family dinners in the future. Sam spends the rest of the day bemoaning Dean’s ability to forget what he’s supposed to be doing in favor of picking up a hot guy or girl at any chance he gets. Dean know that Sam isn’t mad, though, because it turns out that Castiel—or Cas, as Dean finds out he prefers—is actually a damn good cook.