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arrange - june 24 - jegulus - black brothers - @black-brothers-microfic - word count: 404 - got this idea from a tiktok

“Hi, I’m Sirius Black and I’m the Best Man.”

Sirius’s voice cut through the chattering crowd, drawing the attention of everyone in the huge room. James, who was staring, completely enamored, at his new husband, had to rip his gaze away to look over at his friend.

“I promise I have written a speech,” Sirius said, beaming at the crowd. “I even wrote it before the day of–take that, McKinnon!” A few people laughed. “But before I get to that, I have something special arranged.”

James looked to his left, exchanging a nervous glance with Regulus. “Do you have any idea—?” he muttered.

“Not a clue,” Regulus replied, looking terrified. “But if he does something stupid, remember that he’s your best man, not mine.”

James gulped, turning back to where Sirius stood, a terrifying smile on his face.

“James met Reggie when he was seventeen and was immediately obsessed. I’m sure you all remember,” he chuckled, allowing the crowd to grumble good-naturedly while James grinned and blushed. “But if you don’t, or you were lucky enough to not be there, I have quite a treat for you! I have proof! If you’ll all direct your attention to the screen to my left…Moony, you can roll the tape!”

Immediately, James’s stomach sank, because he knew what was coming. “Reg, wanna go have a quickie in the bathroom?” he whispered to his new husband, face getting warmer and warmer.

Regulus’s eyes, though, were glued to the screen, and he just waved his hand dismissively at James. “Later,” he muttered.

“Play this at my wedding! No–no I swear! Play this at my wedding!” On-screen James began shouting, his voice pounding through the speakers of the room. The screen showed James, Remus, and Peter all laying on James’s bed, Sirius clearly behind the camera.

“Why’s that, Prongs?” Sirius-from-behind-the-camera asked, his voice full of mirth.

“Because!” On-screen James grinned idiotically. “It’s–I’m seventeen, and it’s September first and I swear to all of you, I’m marrying Regulus Black someday. I swear!”

Present day James groaned, burying his head in his hands as the crowd awwed.

“I’m marrying Regulus Arcturus Black! You’ll play this at our wedding and I’ll be like, ha! Told you!”

“And that, folks, was James Potter, mere hours after he met Regulus Black,” Sirius said into the microphone, grinning.”And it all went downhill from here, as you can see.”

The crowd, and Regulus, burst into applause.

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“How do I write good female characters-“

Exactly the way you write male ones. Treat them the same. The beauty of it is, even if you write shit male characters too, at least it’s clear you don’t discriminate.

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I firmly believe that every conflict in X-men can be solved by polyamory and gay sex

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My average writing experience:

"Alright I think I'm almost done actually-"

*Google doc grows second health bar and a choir starts singing in latin*

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“omg you’re so creative. how do you get your ideas” i hallucinate a single scene in the taco bell drive thru and then spend 13 months trying to write it

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"I know adverbs are controversial, but "said softly" means something different than 'whispered' and this is the hill I will die on."

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Gandalf in The Hobbit: You are Took and that makes you absolutely suited for adventure!

Gandalf in The Fellowship of the Ring: Who the FUCK let the Took come on this adventure?

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queer themes in x-men my beloved. Angel binding his wings. Bobby’s parents asking if he’s tried just not being a mutant. Nightcrawler and catholic guilt. The existence of cherik. Everything with Scott/Jean/Logan. Mystique and Destiny.

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Someone was asking in a thread what kind of people could work for ICE right now.

I think it's a good time to remember that the image above are the people who put children into gas chambers.

When I was little, I asked what kind of person could work at a concentration camp.

The answer to both questions I think is "normal people who have accepted the dehumanization of another group of people."

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just so you know, you have some followers who enjoy/write fanfiction. not saying their urls rn bc i don’t wanna air out dirty laundry in public but if you want them so you can block and report, just say the word and i’ll dm you a list

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sorry i was researching the author of a victorian book about raising children and now i'm fascinated by her. clear my schedule we're talking about lydia maria child.

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believe it or not but people addicted to drugs are able to have stuff like chronic pain and they still deserve pain meds

some people here are not normal about ppl w substance abuse and u need to show solidarity with them or perish

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It’s interesting how diseases rip through schools at incredible speeds despite being in an arguably modern, clean(ish) environment. I wonder if it has something to do with the whole “you need a doctor’s note to excuse your absence of even one day” combined with the average price of going to a doctor, the lack of education on things like “you’re still contagious even after the fever goes away”, and the overwhelming message of “if you don’t struggle through it, you’re a failure!”

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Ask any Star Trek: The Next Generation fan who the most powerful character is, and you’ll probably hear “Q” faster than Picard can say “Make it so.” And sure, Q is omnipotent, smug, and pops in and out of spacetime like he’s got a monthly pass to the multiverse. But if we’re talking raw, terrifying, existentially devastating power—not charm, not cosmic hijinks—then let’s shift the spotlight away from the flamboyant trickster and onto a man in a sweater vest watering his plants in the suburbs. Yes, Kevin Uxbridge. The quiet Douwd in “The Survivors” (Season 3, Episode 3), who, in a moment of unbearable grief, blinked an entire species out of existence.

Let that sink in. Not defeated them. Not imprisoned them in a bubble universe. Not turned them into salamanders (looking at you, Voyager). Erased them. Fifty billion Husnock—gone like a bad dream before breakfast. And all because they killed the one human woman he loved. In an instant, Kevin became the embodiment of divine wrath wrapped in the disguise of a cardigan-wearing retiree. The writers gave us a mythological gut-punch: a being of limitless power who doesn’t strut, doesn’t posture, and doesn’t belong anywhere near a starship—or a planet, for that matter.

And here’s the kicker: unlike Q, Kevin isn’t mischievous or theatrical. He’s tormented. He didn’t want to be a god. He just wanted to live quietly with Rishon, pretending to be human. But when she died, the mask slipped. And what lay underneath wasn’t a playful cosmic toddler—it was a being so far beyond comprehension that the Enterprise crew could only stand there in stunned silence. Not even Picard, who usually has a Shakespearean monologue for every crisis, could muster more than a respectful bow.

The brilliance of Kevin’s story is that it flips the Trek trope. Usually, omnipotent beings in the franchise—Q, Trelane, Nagilum—are flashy, childish, or bureaucratically cold. Kevin is none of that. He’s grief incarnate, a god in exile. He’s not a commentary on power, but on mourning, and what happens when infinite capability meets bottomless sorrow. In one scene, he destroys a species; in the next, he tends to flowers. That contradiction? That’s what makes him haunting.

What makes Kevin more unsettling than Q isn’t just his strength—it’s that he’s not using it. He's repressing it. It’s the old trope of the retired gunslinger who’s hung up his holster… until someone pushes him too far. Except in this case, instead of a six-shooter, it’s the ability to perform genocide with a thought. That’s the kind of power that makes even the Federation say, “You know what, Kevin? We’re just gonna… back away slowly.”

From a narrative standpoint, Kevin is a masterstroke. Writer Michael Wagner only gave us one episode with him, but it resonates because it doesn't over-explain. The Douwd remain a mystery. And that’s exactly how it should be. You don’t build tension by showing the monster—you let us feel the aftermath. In the void where the Husnock used to be, Kevin Uxbridge becomes less a character and more a cosmic reminder: some powers should never be disturbed.

So yes, Q might juggle planets and mock captains. But Kevin? Kevin is the man who could remake galaxies and chooses instead to prune his hedges. And that restraint, that quiet horror, that grief-soaked omnipotence? That’s power. Unmatched, unchallenged, and best left undisturbed.

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Posted: 23:05 UTC 28 April, 2025