#ALL DA QUEUE-TIES

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Yoreen + Dragon Age AU

In spite of being very much trapped in my Dragon Age hole ("trapped," as if I didn't go into it willing), this has been so hard????? I think because I've contemplated making a world state where I have each DA protagonist as a Roycegaryen & its hard to separate the idea of DA!Yorick from the Inquisitor. But I think I've got something now!

Prompt

● Yorick is the son Bann Rhea Royce of Runestone in the Arling of Edgehall, & Shireen is the daughter of Bann Boremund Baratheon of The Storm Coast

● Yoreen met because Shireen’s older brother, & heir to their father's Bannorn, Borros, was wounded at Ostagar during the fifth Blight; barely surviving before being found by late-arriving soldiers from Runestone who had been delayed due to a skirmish in the hills with darkspawn stragglers. They brought the injured obvious noble to Lothering, where they all then had to flee when the darkspawn came for the village. Queue a comedy of errors where they keep having to drag wounded Borros further & further west until he winds up in their Bann's halls to finish being healed. Once he's all better, a small contingent of Runestone’s men are sent to escort Borros back north to The Storm Coast, with a 14-year-old Yorick in tow to serve as his mom's representative to Bann Boremund when they return his son. He strikes up a friendship with Borros, & after arriving at the keep, with Shireen as well.

● Yorick accompanies Bann Boremund to The Landsmeet in Denerim to speak up about Borros’s injuries sustained as a result of Teryn Loghain's retreat from the field, earning him attention for being willing to politically stick his neck out at such a young age & the respect of his new friends' father. After the Blight is over, Yorick is sent home with his mother's men & a proposed betrothal to Bann Boremund’s daughter.

● Yorick & Shireen get married four years later, & proceed to have a bunch of kids while doing a lot of behind-the-scenes work to help Ferelden get stable after the Blight & the stuff surrounding the royal succession & the drama with Teryn Loghain.

● Due to their reputation built within Ferelden, & Shireen’s mother's ties to the Antivan nobility, Yoreen find themselves as part of Josephine Montiliyet's list of noble contacts, & they serve as go-betweens for the Inquisition & Ferelden's nobility. They may even be at Skyhold for a hot minute? All I know is that they would thrive dealing with all the political headache stuff from Inquisition.

[jubaer01]

NEW ZEALAND New Zealand Governemnt ETA Visa

 NZeTA Visitor Visa Online Application - New Zealand Visa Online - New Zealands officielle visum - NZETA

Address : Christiansgade 70, 5000 Odense C., Denmark

Phone : +45 65 32 28 45

Email : info@newzealand-visas.org

Website : https://www.newzealand-visa.org/da/visa/

Business Hours : 24/7/365

Owner / Official Contact Name :Nadine Marshall  Harper

Description :The Electronic Travel Authority for New Zealand NZETA er en elektronisk rejsetilladelse for indbyggere i lande med visumfritagelse. NZeTA sendt blev etableret i år 2019. Dette visum fungerer præcis som et indrejsevisum. NZeTA eller visumfritagelse er obligatorisk for alle indgående rejsende, der rejser ind i New Zealand: Indbyggere i hvert af de 60 visumfritagelseslande kan komme med flyrejser. Borgere fra 191 lande kan komme med krydstogtskib. Electronic Travel Authority New Zealand er så simpelt, at du kan fuldføre det helt på internettet og modtage eVisa via e-mail. NZETA tillader kvalificerede borgere at krydse grænsen til New Zealand til turist-, forretnings- eller rejseformål uden at gå igennem problemet med at stå i køen eller vente på, at passet bliver stemplet. Der kræves ingen porto eller kurer til nogen regeringskontorer for at opnå New Zealand ETA. Det er i øjeblikket et obligatorisk krav for statsborgere med visumfritagelse, såvel som krydstogtskibsrejsende fra alle lande. Selv de fastboende i Australien er påkrævet NZ ETA. Kvalificerede borgere kan ansøge gennem den ligetil New Zealand Electronic Travel Authority-applikation på nettet for turisme, forretningsbesøg eller transit til et andet land fra Auckland International Airport. Ansøgere forventes at udfylde New Zealand Electronic Travel Authority ansøgningsformular med individuelle og identifikationsoplysninger. New Zealand Visa har følgende krav, sørg for, at passet har en blank side, så immigrationspersonalet kan stemple det i lufthavnen. Desuden skal dit pas være gyldigt i 6 måneder på tidspunktet for indrejse i New Zealand. Følgende borgere er berettiget til at ansøge om New Zealand Visa Online eller NZeTA, Luxembourg, Frankrig, Cypern, Spanien, Portugal, Irland, Polen, Sverige, Ungarn, Østrig, Bulgarien, Danmark, Malta, Slovenien, Slovakiet, Letland, Holland, Tjekkiet , Tyskland, Grækenland, Estland, Rumænien, Italien, Belgien, Kroatien, Storbritannien, Finland og Litauen.  The Electronic Travel Authority for New Zealand NZETA is an electronic travel authorisation for residents of visa waiver countries. The NZeTA sent was established in the year 2019, this Visa works exactly like an entry visa. The NZeTA or visa waiver is mandatory for the all inbound travellers entering New Zealand: Residents of each of the 60 visa waiver countries can come by Airplane tourt. Citizens of 191 countries can come by cruise ship. Electronic Travel Authority New Zealand is so simple that you can complete it entirely on the internet, and receive eVisa by email. NZETA permits qualified citizens  to cross the border of New Zealand for the tourism, business, or travel purposes without going through the problem of standing in the queue or waiting for the passport to be stamped. No postage or courier to any government office is required to obtain New Zealand ETA. It is presently a mandatory requirement for visa waiver national, as well as cruise ship travelers of all countries. Even the Permanent Residents of Australia are required the NZ ETA. Qualified citizens can apply through the straightforward New Zealand Electronic Travel Authority application on the web for tourism, business visit or transit to another country from Auckland International Airport. Applicants  are expected to fill in the New Zealand Electronic Travel Authority application form with individual and identification details. New Zealand Visa  has the following requirements, ensure passport has blank page so that immigration staff can stamp it on the airport.  Also, your passport should be valid for 6 months at the time of entry in New Zealand. The following citizens are eligible to apply for New Zealand Visa Online or NZeTA, Luxembourg, France, Cyprus, Spain, Portugal, Ireland, Poland, Sweden, Hungary, Austria, Bulgaria, Denmark, Malta, Slovenia, Slovakia, Latvia, Netherlands, Czech, Germany, Greece, Estonia, Romania, Italy, Belgium, Croatia, United Kingdom, Finland and Lithuania citizens.

[ladieslovingladiesandfics]

Kunzite

Anon asked: Hey, I saw you wanted Descendants stuff to do. I also see you love Evie, just like ME! So like, you should totally do a Evie x evil kid reader because that would be amazing. Maybe the reader is Dr. Facilier's daughter or maybe even Scar's daughter or something

EVIE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!! So.....um...I decided to tap into the fairytale nerd side of my mind and delve into other fairytales Disney had yet to adapt and thus...well...thought of....stuff. I was also playing some fairytale-related puzzle games so that also gave me ideas haha. I’m sorry if doesn’t meet your standards. By the way, the reader is slightly based off of the tale known as Valissa the Beautiful.

Warning: None? Cute stuff? Witchcraft? Angsty stuff, kinda? Bad Russian? I don’t even know man.

Krasavitsa= Beautiful

Printsessa= Princess

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

“And what, pray tell, brings you to my part of the forest, little lady?”

Evie glared at the figure in front of her, draped in a cloak of black and silver stars, symbolizing the night sky. The girl inhaled deeply, nails digging into her palms so hard they almost drew crimson drops of blood. "I'm here to ask you a question, witch."" answered Evie, slowly walking up the wooden stairs to the front of your cottage.

You sat on your porch, in a rocking chair, watching the girl walk up to you. She was scared, you can see that with the tremble of her lips and the droplets of crimson that was starting to fall from her palms. You couldn't help but hum in curiosity, your elbow on the armrest and chin on your knuckle. "And what would that be?"

Evie cleared her throat, before slowly reaching into her pocket and pulled out a small hand mirror. It was cracked in the middle. "I heard you could fix magical objects," she answered. "I thought you could fix this for me."

You hum in thought, slowly standing up and beckoning her inside. The moment the door shut, however, you felt Evie's body suddenly pressed against your own. You turn and her lips crashed onto yours, a sigh leaving her lips and the mirror being slipped back into her pocket. You chuckle into the kiss and drawback. "You know, you need to stop breaking your things just so we can meet." you taunt, drawing the curtains of your cottage closed. The relationship between you and Evie was a bit of a secret since you were considered an outcast by the rest of the Isle, being the granddaughter of Baba Yaga and all...and an orphan at that. Your mother had left your grandmother and came here to the Isle to marry your father. 

You had a good relationship with your grandmother, she sometimes came to visit the Isle. She was neither good nor evil, a saint or a demon. She was just...a gray matter. After the death of both of your parents, Baba became your guardian...sort of. You mostly lived alone, and you didn't mind. Especially since Evie did her best to visit you whenever she could.

You pull the aid kit out of the cupboard and grab a few bandages and soothing ointment. "You don't need to put up such a bravado you know," you say, as Evie sat down in a chair. You gently dab at the cuts she made on her palms, putting bandages on them. "We're dating so-" "I have to keep up that act, my mother doesn't like you, remember? Some stupid grudge against your grandma or something." Evie huffed out, pouting adorably. "If she finds out we're together then..." she fell silent, causing you to glance up at her. 

"Eve?" You ask, finding her silence strange. "Krasavitsa?”

“I’m leaving the Isle.”

You almost drop the garbage in your hands when she said those words, the horror began to fill your body. "Huh? Printsessa...what are you talking about?" "I'm heading over to Auradon," Evie answered, letting out a sigh as she toyed with the fabric of your table cloth. "They invited us over there, to study, yadda yadda and be good yadda yadda." she let out a fake gag, rolling her eyes. "I don't wanna go."

You toss the garbage away, now sitting in the chair opposite of Evie. Your hands reach across the table to hers into your own. "Evie...how long will you be gone?" "I....I don't know." Evie said with a sigh. She shuddered, "I...I think my mother knows, I think that's why she's sending me away." 

Your eyes widen, magic beginning to thrum at your fingertips. Evie could feel it, flinching at bit at the surprisingly sudden radiating heat. You bite down on your bottom lip, willing the magic to fade. "I'm sorry...did I scare you?"

"It's fine. Don't worry...uh....krasavitsa?" Evie said nervously blushing, attempting to speak in your own tongue.

You smile gently brought Evie's hand to your lips and kissed her fingers. "You'll be okay. Hey, why don't I give you something before you leave?" you stood up, walking into your bedroom and began to dig through the drawers. You pull out a necklace, a oval of kunzite as the pendant. You walk back out and toss the piece of jewelry over to Evie, who quickly caught it. “There, think of it as a parting gift.”

“It’s....” Evie paused, before breaking out into a grin. “Cute.” she said. “Help me put it on?”

You walk behind her, slipping the cord on to her neck and fastening the clasp. “It’s a kunzite stone, it’s supposed to emit positive energies and release tension.” you say, and kiss her cheek. “Think of it as a little piece of me when you go to Auradon.”

“Thank you.” Evie says, her voice barely above a whisper. She tucks the pendant under her shirt, and sits backwards on the chair, all to just kiss you. “I’ll miss you.” she whispers.

“I know....I’ll miss you too.”

“I love you.” “Love you too, printsessa.”

“Oh! Can you fix my mirror now?”

“Alright, alrighty. Give me a minute.”

“How long has it been since that girl of yours left, huh?” Baba asked, sipping from the mug of tea you gave her. In her other hand was a framed photo of you and Evie, and she could not help but stare at it curiously. “She’s Grimhilde’s daughter, da?”

“Quite a while.” You answer, pouring your grandmother another cup of tea. “I miss her.” you say. “And yes, she’s the Evil Queen’s daughter. Doesn’t she gave a grudge against you?”

Baba let out a gruff sort of sound, “Bah, what do I care about grudges. They are nothing to me.” the old crone says.

“Y/N!”

You glance up at the sound of your name, and turn to Babe, thinking it was you who called her. Your grandmother only shrugs her great shoulders. “Wasn’t me.”

Who could it be? You look out the window, and saw...

Evie?!

Without hesitation you throw the door to your cottage open, seeing that Evie was running towards your cottage from the forest. Was this...real? “Y/N!”

“Evie!” you rush towards your girlfriend meeting her half way. You two embrace, with Evie burrying her face into your shoulder and your face in her shoulder. “I missed you.” you whisper as Evie sniffled.

“I miss you too, Y/N.” Evie drew away from you, something shining around her neck. It was the necklace you gave her! She still had it! She smiled, fingering the pendant fondly, “This kept me going.” she shly admits. “And guess what?” she pulled another necklace out of her pocket, looking just like hers. The pendant was also made of kunzite. Your eyes widen as Evie beams. “Let me do it.” she proclaims and fastens the necklace around your neck. “There...now you have a little piece of me with you.” Evie repeated those words you said long ago.

You only scoff, rolling your eyes. “I hate you.” “No you don’t, you love me. And I,” Evie presses her forehead against yours, your lips barely an inch apart. “Love you.”

The sound of clapping was heard behind you, and Evie and you turn to see Baba Yaga on the porch, smirking while clapping her boney old hands together. “Oh! You must be Evie, my new granddaughter-in-law, Y/N has told me all about you.”

“Baba! Please!”

“Let me tell you about the time she shat herself as a child-” “BABA!”

[scfrozenover]

How is it Sunday already? Luckily there’s lots of great fics and a pod today to help distract us all from the weekend ending. Enjoy!

Following along? Don’t forget to copy today’s fics from the master spreadsheet to your own!

*

Snow Angels Among Us

[David/Patrick - E - 15,132]

Upon hearing David has never made a snow angel, Patrick is determined to get him to make one while on a winter getaway.

*

To David Rose - The Richest Man in Town

[David/Patrick - T - 10,179]

David Rose had big dreams...but after a series of events, he thinks he's lost his chance to ever make them a reality.

Then again, maybe he already has.

Time to pour your mulled wine (heavy on the cinnamon, light on the cloves)...it's an "It's a Wonderful Life" AU

*

and we'd swear to remember it (all too well)

[David/Patrick, Stevie & David, Alexis/Ted - E - 9,650]

“Come with me,” he’d said, hands tracing along Patrick’s shoulders. “We can go to New York together. My family has money now — we can do whatever we want, go wherever we want.” He’d moved his hands to cup his face, thumbs gently brushing against his cheeks. “You’re too good for this town.”

Patrick had recoiled at David’s words like they’d been some kind of heavy accusation, rather than a compliment. And that’d been it: the beginning of the end. Though David never would’ve guessed that’s where the conversation had been headed at the time. If David had known, he would’ve slammed on the brakes before they’d careened off the track. He would’ve pulled the lever to change course. He would’ve done anything, if he’d known then what he does now.

When David returns to his hometown for the holidays, he reminisces about his first love and where things went wrong. He doesn't expect to, y'know, hook up with that ex, be mistaken as 'back together' by that ex's mother, and end up faking a relationship for Christmas Eve. That wasn't really the plan, but 'tis the season, amirite?

*

Same Old (New) Traditions

[David/Patrick - G - 6,505]

It’s Christmas with the Brewers! David goes home with Patrick for the holidays. Maybe it’s the first time, maybe it isn’t. Maybe he hangs out with Patrick’s cousins, cooks with Marcy, has a heart to heart with Clint while building bird houses or something (doesn’t Clint seem like he has a side hustle and is skilled at like making things??), etc etc. Queue all the domestic fluffy goodness with the sweetest in laws!

Patrick gets a cold just in time for the holidays, and David takes care of him. All the fluffy sickfic feels.

*

There's Only One Cart

[David/Patrick - T - 5,300]

All alone on Christmas Eve, David makes a last minute trip to the store for some much needed wallowing supplies. What happens when he meets a kind stranger with warm brown eyes, also alone for the holiday, and - gasp! - there's only one cart?

*

Tidings of Galapa-joy

[Alexis/Ted, Alexis & OC - T - 5,004]

Dejected by the prospect of a solo Christmas, Alexis heads to the Galapagos with a friend for their vlogs, reuniting with Ted. Told mostly in script format. (Think The Lizzie Bennet Diaries meets Schitt's Creek.) Includes cameos by way of adverts!

*

The Polar Bears of Schitt's Creek

[David/Patrick, Alexis/Twyla - T - 4,620]

"What the fuck is a polar bear dip?"

*

a gift from someone's heart

[Alexis/Twyla, David/Patrick - T - 2,692]

"When, exactly, were you planning to do it? And how?"

"I'm still considering that." Twyla tucks the ring box back behind the flour, double-checking that it's covered up, then turns back to him. "I thought that over dinner might be nice?"

"No," David says, settling into this part of the conversation with relish. He shakes his head. "As your eldest almost-brother of an unspecified age, I have veto power, and I say no. You have dinner all the time. It has to be more special than that."

--

While David and Patrick are visiting Alexis and Twyla in New York, Twyla confides in David about her proposal plans. David reflects on his own proposal experience and offers a few... tasteful... suggestions.

*

Cocoa

[David/Patrick - G - 1,938]

Patrick regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. The dawning look of horror on David’s face was a common one - Patrick often had ‘wrong’ opinions about the store, that wasn’t new - but this look…

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” David asked.

When David finds out that Patrick is meh at best on hot chocolate, he makes it his personal mission to create the mix to both finally make Patrick fall in love with it and become a best seller at the store.

*

[Podfic] Must Have Been Some Magic

[David/Patrick - G - 1 hour, 11 minutes]

Eight-year-old Patrick Brewer doesn't believe in magic, rule-breaking, or best friends. But that all changes the day he builds a snowman.

(A fusion with the children's book and animated film The Snowman.)

Podfic of sunlightsymphony’s fic “Must Have Been Some Magic”

*

CREATORS: If your works were released today, please don't forget to update your posting date!

[fiadhaisteach]

I posted 5,474 times in 2021

280 posts created (5%)

5194 posts reblogged (95%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 18.6 posts.

I added 11,112 tags in 2021

#rifts in the queue - 3405 posts

#artist appreciation - 2034 posts

#aisteach reads - 1057 posts

#aisteach recommends - 1047 posts

#solavellan - 997 posts

#writer appreciation - 909 posts

#solas - 787 posts

#💖 💖 💖 - 378 posts

#read this - 315 posts

#aisteach posts - 183 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i'm always grateful for any words that were shared‚ even if the story wasn't finished‚ because fanfic is the only genre where i can see wips

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

WIP Wednesday

Thank you all for the tags over the week, @emerald-amidst-gold, @little-lightning-lavellan, @noire-pandora, @oxygenforthewicked

Have I finished my reorganization? *shifty eyes* No, but! See... *shuffles feet* I got distracted by the shiny dopamine and... well... I’m still working on it. 😝 Have some more orb WIP!

I'm working on how to display it... and this is still definitely a rough/1st draft, though the only one that will weigh this much (2.52 lb. / 1.14 kg)... and yeah, I've got plans for at least one more (I want to be able to make a mold of it so I can also make bookends) and already have an aluminum foil core ready.

tagging @himluv @psalacanthea @iarollane @crown-laurel @nightshade-blues @dreadfutures @crackinglamb @ir0n-angel

94 notes • Posted 2021-10-27 14:22:03 GMT

#4

... have you seen...?

109 notes • Posted 2021-06-28 01:47:40 GMT

#3

I know "they” say “the DA fandom is dying” because it’s been so long since the last game was released but... y’all... Y’all are putting out so much great fanart and fanfic and screenshots and fanvids and the volume is simply astounding.

I read fast... I read A LOT... and I can’t keep up with just the Solasmancing side of the fandom.

I think “they” are full of shit.

156 notes • Posted 2021-10-22 16:50:21 GMT

#2

On Commenting

I used to be one of those readers who just left Kudos on fics and very, VERY rarely commented.

Then, because of some of the posts I’ve seen here (and on Twitter), I started trying to at least leave a heart, or other, emoji comment on chapter updates for fics I subscribe to; sometimes using gifs, occasionally leaving longer comments, and commenting on one-shots.

I'm still mostly at that point but, thinking about those posts more, I am starting to try to leave comments on multi-chapter fics as I go (struggling, but trying); even if some of the chapter comments I leave are “just heart emojis,” when my spoons are low or I have no words (I’m not usually good with words). The feedback from writers has been, honestly, both heartwarming & heartbreaking.

Fanfic writers, of every caliber, are sharing a gift with us every time they post. And they are so appreciative of, what feels to me like, tiny crumbs of feedback. It blows my mind a little.

I mean, long comments filled with “I loved x” or “that phrasing there was so amazing” or “so and so tied back to y chapters and xyz and I can’t believe...” have got to be even better to receive, so if you can do that... please do.

But I’ve seen, firsthand, that even tiny, consistent, comments can make a big impact on someone’s day.

So toss a heart to your writers.

If you’re reading on your phone/tablet, emojis are on your keyboard. If you’re on a PC, you can insert a ♥ heart by holding down the Alt button and the 3 on the NumPad, on a Mac it’s Option and 2661. Or you can keep a tab open to Emojipedia and their thousands of emojis.

344 notes • Posted 2021-08-21 21:16:40 GMT

#1

Has "the veil is a thong" not made it to Tumblr yet?

355 notes • Posted 2021-10-25 02:34:50 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE

Harry flipped unenthusiastically to the start of his chapter. He couldn't say this was the worst start to his term, but things weren't going so well either. At least he had the ability to hope, considering his company. No matter how long he was in their presence, he knew that would never go away.

Harry and Ron met Hermione in the common room before breakfast next morning.

"She didn't wait up for you after escorting the first years up there?" Lily asked in surprise.

"Obviously not," Sirius snorted.

Hoping for some support in his theory, Harry lost no time in telling Hermione what he had overheard Malfoy saying on the Hogwarts Express.

Ron interjected on the same breath Harry finished obviously Malfoy was just showing off for Parkinson.

"Why?" James rolled his eyes. Ron trying so hard to play this off was just a tad insulting.

"Don't know," Harry shrugged, that grumpy look lingering in place. "Suppose he didn't want Hermione to think he was encouraging me."

Hermione agreed both were likely, though it was a big lie to tell.

"She's not wrong on any of that," Sirius said fairly. Remus huffed so quietly only Sirius had heard, and he supposed both he and Prongs might still be a little sore about the last time Hermione hadn't believed Harry.

Harry wanted to press his point, but all around them were students whispering behind their hands and still pointing at him.

"Subtle," Lily drew the word out pointedly, her hand twitching for her wand while she fought back a shout for them all to mind their own business.

  Ron snapped at a particularly minuscule first-year boy as they joined the queue to climb out of the portrait hole how rude it was to point. The boy, who had been muttering something about Harry behind his hand to his friend,

"Why do people bother with that hand thing?" James snapped of no one. "It does no good!"

"They like to pretend they're being subtle, not everyone can pull off our magnificence Prongs," Sirius stated.

promptly turned scarlet and toppled out of the hole in alarm.

Ron sniggered, saying he was going to love being a sixth year, whole periods used to just sit around and relax.

"If he chooses to never do any homework, then sure," Remus said with pity.

Hermione corrected they were going to need that extra time to study.

Ron insisted not today, it was going to be a real doss!

"Well it's the first day back-" Sirius began to agree, before the start to Harry's last year held his tongue from saying anything else.

Hermione suddenly threw her arm out, halting a passing fourth year, who was attempting to push past her with a lime-green disk clutched tightly in his hand. She scolded Fanged Frisbees were banned and confiscated it. The boy scowled before complying and running back off.

Ron waited just long enough for him to vanish before snatching it next.

Sirius threw Remus a fond smile, who in turn shook his head indulgently. Lily rolled her eyes and Harry chuckled lightly, he didn't need to ask, the reminiscent air between all three of them for that exchange didn't need words.

Hermione's remonstration was drowned by a loud giggle; Lavender Brown had apparently found Ron highly amusing.

"Wasn't she the one that giggled along at everything?" Lily asked, wondering why that had been mentioned at all.

"Except in Trelawney's class, then she believed every morbid word," Harry agreed without concern even if he did feel a flicker of annoyance far heavier than this should have called for.

She continued to laugh as she passed them, glancing back at Ron over her shoulder. Ron looked rather pleased with himself.

"Can't even blame him, that kind of attention's always valued," Sirius agreed.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and streaked with frail, wispy clouds, just like the squares of sky visible through the high mullioned windows. While they tucked into porridge and eggs and bacon, Harry and Ron told Hermione about their embarrassing conversation with Hagrid the previous evening.

Hermione was distressed even as she defended he couldn't be surprised. It wasn't as if they'd ever showed any real enthusiasm.

Ron pointed out they'd shown more than most, and Hagrid wouldn't realize that was because they liked him, not the subject.

"I guess I can kind of see why he'd think that," Remus scrunched up his face in thought, "but outside of class you've never made it clear that's what it was. I'm sure Hagrid will be an adult about this and just understand you didn't need it."

Then Ron wondered if anyone would continue to NEWT.

"Now he's being ridiculous," Sirius couldn't help but scoff at that idea. "There's any number of reasons you'd continue that class, careers for one thing that involve the grade."

"Liking of the class as well," Remus insisted, knowing he'd have been one.

Neither Harry nor Hermione answered; there was no need. They knew perfectly well that nobody in their year would want to continue Care of Magical Creatures.

"Oh come now, not everyone could hate it," Remus insisted. "I've admitted some of Hagrid's ideas were," he faltered, not able to come up with the right word for testing out a new species on a bunch of fourth years, but gallantly continued, "but I'd certainly happily have continued with the class! He's got a unique way of teaching."

Harry gave Remus a sideways look, but was surprised to find he honestly seemed to mean that. Harry supposed then there could have been others outside of his class who may fancy it, just none that he'd known.

They avoided Hagrid's eye and returned his cheery wave only half-heartedly when he left the staff table ten minutes later.

"That still won't be a fun conversation no matter what," Lily sighed, hoping Hagrid would understand, he'd always been good about that in the past.

After they had eaten, they remained in their places, awaiting Professor McGonagall's descent from the staff table. The distribution of class schedules was more complicated than usual this year, for Professor McGonagall needed first to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with their chosen N.E.W.T.s.

Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, and shot off to a first period Ancient Runes class without further ado.

"Don't even know why she waited around," James smirked. "No teacher would question why she walked into class."

Neville took a little longer to sort out; his round face was anxious as Professor McGonagall looked down his application and then consulted his O.W.L results. Herbology was perfect, Professor Sprout would be glad to see him again with his O grade.

Lily beamed, remembering her worry from the train how Neville could only focus on his least good grades. She did wish Harry had heard him say this, or that he'd even said it.

He also qualified for DA with his E.

"Really? I thought Snape only allowed O's," Harry heavily rolled his eyes, despite his pride Neville had done so good in that exam.

"Maybe a stipulation from Dumbledore was he had to accept that grade as well, it's a class a large majority of people do need still," Sirius speculated, though his preference would have been if Snape had just never gotten the bloody job.

The problem was his desire for Transfiguration, an A just wasn't an acceptable enough grade to be carrying on, he wouldn't cope with the course work.

Neville hung his head in shame, and McGonagall asked why the desire?

"I'm surprised Augusta never made him retake the exam," James said bitingly.

"Probably enjoying the attention he got too much and realized too late," Remus snipped.

Neville looked miserable and muttered something about what his grandmother wanted.

Lily scowled and bite her tongue to convince herself not to snap about that again.

McGonagall snorted, stating it was high time his grandmother accepted the grandson she had, rather than what she wished, especially after what happened at the Ministry.

Sirius let out a deep bark of triumphant laughter that was echoed throughout the room. Augusta shouldn't have to be told that, but what they would give to make her hear it.

Neville turned very pink and blinked confusedly; Professor McGonagall had never paid him a compliment before.

"Tis a genuine rarity," Remus agreed with a sad little smile, wishing Neville heard them far more often. Harry still didn't seem any more used to it either.

She still denied him access to Transfiguration, but suggested he continue with Charms, with his E.

Neville again mumbled his grandmother for answer, she found it a soft option.

"He still on about her?" James demanded shrewdly. "By this point Neville should be aware speaking her opinions isn't getting him anywhere."

"Seems it's all he knows, her opinions," Harry sighed quietly. He'd certainly been that way through his young life at the Dursleys before Hagrid.

McGonagall wouldn't hear of it, insisting he take Charms, and she'd be dropping Augusta a line reminding her that just because she failed her Charms O.W.L., the subject is not necessarily worthless.

Lily didn't bother to contain her triumphant laugh any more than Sirius had, all but beaming for this child finally hearing something like that.

Smiling slightly at the look of delighted incredulity on Neville's face, Professor McGonagall tapped a blank schedule with the tip of her wand and handed it, now carrying details of his new classes, to Neville.

"I must confess just one slight disappointment to this," Sirius' lighthearted tone held nothing of the sort. "She gave him an extra class! To prove a point mind you, but the homework!"

"Worth it," Remus stated, knowing he'd have done exactly the same.

Professor McGonagall turned next to Parvati Patil, whose first question was whether Firenze, the handsome centaur, was still teaching Divination.

McGonagall explained, with a shrewd voice showing her disapproval, that Trelawney and Firenze were splitting the students between them. Trelawney had the sixth years.

Parvati set off for Divination five minutes later looking slightly crestfallen.

James scoffed heavily, good to know where her priorities were.

Harry went next and was approved for all subjects, including Potions to his surprise. McGonagall prompted this, his desire to be an Auror required it and Slughorn was perfectly happy to take him on with an E.

Then she finished he already had a list of twenty hopefuls looking to make the team, and was waiting for him to set a date for trials at his leisure.

James had been absently listening to the part of the conversation he'd been well aware of, but now beamed all over again at the news. He couldn't wait to hear how Harry handled those! It would be as good as any game he'd played! Probably better, since it should be hard for even his son's life to be at risk at something like tryouts.

A few minutes later, Ron was cleared to do the same subjects as Harry, and the two of them left the table together.

Ron was delightedly going over his schedule, finding a free period now, and after their break, and lunch!

"Savor the idea of them while they last," Sirius sighed in agreement.

They returned to the common room, which was empty apart from a half dozen seventh years, including Katie Bell, the only remaining member of the original Gryffindor Quidditch team that Harry had joined in his first year.

"It all happens so fast," James agreed with a wistful smile at his son, his own age, and Harry felt a guilty flash as he realized his dad wasn't all talking about Quidditch in that moment.

She congratulated him on the badge.

"What happens if all the old team had graduated?" Harry asked quickly in hopes of changing the subject.

"Never happened," James easily shrugged like his mind had never been anywhere else except the pitch. "Seems a tad ridiculous, a whole team made up of nothing but seventh years. Some years there wouldn't even be enough to form a team."

She was waiting eagerly for trials.

Harry told her she didn't need that, he'd already seen her play for five years.

"He's got her there," Sirius nodded easily, this having been exactly what Prongs had said when someone had made the snide comment about Sirius not having to try out at their team.

She warned it wasn't good to start like that, there had been many a bad teams because Captains just kept replaying old faces or letting all their friends in.

"Maybe she should have been made Captain," Harry muttered for himself, having no confidence in himself as he at once felt like giving his own best mate a guilty look.

"Don't be ridiculous Harry!" James was clearly scandalized at the comment. "You're going to have a blast with this, you'll see!"

His absolutely assured tone meant Harry couldn't possibly do anything but smile back.

Ron looked a little uncomfortable and began playing with the Fanged Frisbee Hermione had taken from the fourth-year student. It zoomed around the common room, snarling and attempting to take bites of the tapestry. Crookshanks's yellow eyes followed it and he hissed when it came too close.

An hour later they reluctantly left the sunlit common room for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom four floors below. Hermione was already queuing outside, carrying an armful of heavy books and looking put-upon. She already had a fifteen inch essay, two translations, and the books she was carrying all due Wednesday for her Runes.

"I feel like Hermione's being her usual self," Lily's brows crept up in worry. "There's just no way possible all that was assigned for two days from then."

Ron yawned.

Hermione resentfully snapped Snape would be giving them just as much.

"There's an argument they actually never had," Harry mock laughed.

The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair.

Lily clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes, trying hard not to direct that at Harry. Was such a nasty description really needed three times in one book? She wasn't particularly fond of him of late either, but there were limits of what was needed.

Silence fell over the queue immediately.

Harry looked around as they entered. Snape had imposed his personality upon the room already;

"Dark and heartless?" Sirius offered.

it was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight.

"Don't be ridiculous Padfoot, you turn into a dog, not a parrot," James smirked over at him, while Sirius didn't at all look upset about mimicking the book.

New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts.

Remus made a snide comment under his breath, causing Sirius to snicker. James grumbled he was too far away to be in on the joke, while one look at their expressions had Lily thankful for the same.

Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures. He told them to put those books away, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk;

"Remember when he used to yell at us for not taking the initiative to copy down every bloody word he said," Harry groused.

Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair as he continued he was going to speak to them first and they were to give their fullest attention.

"When have you ever been denied that?" James asked innocently enough, though both Harry and Lily gave him a frown for that reminder they didn't need.

His black eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Harry's than anyone else's.

All five of them made a face right back for this.

They'd had five teachers in this subject so far, he began,

"Why on Earth did he only recount the ones from my years," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Didn't want to say the number seven thousand I suppose," Sirius shrugged without concern. "Every year it had to get more grating to him," he finished with a satisfied smirk.

"How old do you think this curse is?" Remus asked more curious than anything for Sirius' exaggeration.

Sirius shrugged without concern, his point still stood.

naturally all those teachers methods and priorities had shifted with each. Given this, he was astounded so many had scraped by with any decent grade.

"All thanks to Harry," James primly boasted.

"Dad," Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation, sure he really hadn't done more than help them all along than what they all thought. He was ignored, James' proud smile not dimming more than anyone else's.

He would be even more surprised if all of them managed to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which would be more advanced.

"I still find it a miracle anyone passed their Potions OWL's," Remus huffed, knowing that threat was going to be as literal as it could get.

James and Sirius were just surprised Snape hadn't made yet another snide comment about Moony, yet.

Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view as he continued the Dark Arts were varied, ever-changing, and eternal. To cut of the neck of one would sprout the head of two more, fiercer and cleverer than the last.

"Just call it a hydra you blithering monotone!" Sirius sneered.

"Honestly, he does have to make everything sound oh so important," Remus huffed in agreement.

Harry stared at Snape. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Snape was doing, with a loving caress in his voice?

There was an ugly twist to the lips of the Marauders, Harry uneasily noticed, and his mum nibbling at her lip with a distant look in her eye. Harry wondered how many times they'd all seen this developing in Snape's youth, how this speech probably wasn't at all unfamiliar to those growing up with future Death Eaters.

He continued at normal volume their defenses for this then must be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo.

Lily couldn't help a small smile for that though, knowing she was the only one but grateful all the same he'd moved on to the importance of this class.

The pictures around them were to show instances of what they may be facing, waving at the Cruciatus Curse,

Harry shivered uneasily, not meeting anyone's eyes. Snape just had to put that one up there, to constantly remind him for the next year what he'd once lived through.

A Dementor's Kiss,

Sirius' skin went sallow. Even now that the threat had been taken from his future life, the reminder it had once had lingered so long over him would not pass soon.

and an Inferius.

Parvati Patil asked if it had been confirmed he was using those?

Snape returned the Dark Lord had used Inferi in the past, which meant it was well-advised to assume he was doing so again.

"He actually managed to answer her without an insult thrown in!" James brows flew up into his hairline. "Glory, he must be in a good mood!"

"I give it another five minutes to last, he'll throw some tripe at Harry soon," Sirius huffed.

He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk, and again, they watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him. He spoke of the fact that they were complete novices in nonverbal spells, and asked of them what the advantage of those were.

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, making sure he had no choice,

"Mildly better than calling her a know-it-all again," Harry grumbled.

before curtly calling upon her.

She gave a text for word answer from the Standard Book of Spells grade 6; the adversary had no warning of what you were fixing to do.

Snape briefly mocked her for that, but agreed in essence it was correct.

Not a skill all could utilize, as some wizards lacked the concentration and mind power for it, his eyes resting on Harry at the end.

"Whew, I was starting to worry about another teacher being replaced," James mock wiped his brow in relief at the renewed insults to his son.

"Not yet sure if I wouldn't prefer Fake-Eye," Remus grumbled, mostly kidding, but at least he'd still been more helpful to Harry's survival before trying to kill him.

Harry knew Snape was thinking of their disastrous Occlumency lessons of the previous year. He refused to drop his gaze, but glowered at Snape until Snape looked away.

He instructed them to divide into pairs and practice this.

Although Snape did not know it, Harry had taught at least half the class (everyone who had been a member of the D.A.) how to perform a Shield Charm the previous year. None of them had ever cast the charm without speaking, however. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud. Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Hermione managed to repel Neville's muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word,

Sirius let out a surprised whistle, they all looked rather impressed with this except Harry, who thought by now that would have worn off on them.

a feat that would surely have earned her twenty points for Gryffindor from any reasonable teacher, thought Harry bitterly, but which Snape ignored.

"I'm sure she'll get it from every other teacher in the following classes," James assured with a chuckle.

He swept between them as they practiced, looking just as much like an overgrown bat as ever, lingering to watch Harry and Ron struggling with the task.

Ron, who was supposed to be jinxing Harry, was purple in the face, his lips tightly compressed to save himself from the temptation of muttering the incantation. Harry had his wand raised, waiting on tenterhooks to repel a jinx that seemed unlikely ever to come.

"You could still be practicing while waiting," Remus offered helpfully. "Even helps yourself to hold onto the spell, build up resilience."

Harry gave him a light smile, once again wishing for the dozenth time Professor Lupin had never left.

When Snape saw this he called Weasley pathetic, and offered to show how to properly do it.

He turned his wand on Harry so fast that Harry reacted instinctively; all thought of nonverbal spells forgotten, he yelled Protego!

His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk.

All three boys burst out laughing with surprise for that, while Lily's teeth sank into her lip again, knowing that wasn't going to go over well.

The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling. He demanded of Potter if he recalled the use of nonverbal spells being used.

Harry said yes.

Snape corrected yes sir.

Harry told there was no need to call him sir, Professor.

James snorted so violently he was sure his own nose had been broken, Sirius dissolved into mirthless laughter at once and would not be upright without the support of the sofa, and Remus gave Harry an appreciative nod, "you tell 'em Harry."

To Harry's greatest surprise though, his mother laughed hardest of all, holding her sides for several moments before beaming with pride at her sharp tongued boy. She couldn't have done better herself in giving such a reply to a teacher who deserved it.

It took Harry a moment to even remember he was supposed to keep going. He rarely felt he deserved their praise, but in this instance of his sassing a teacher, he actually just wanted to linger as long as he could on that smirk in place.

Several people gasped, including Hermione. Behind Snape, however, Ron, Dean, and Seamus grinned appreciatively.

Snape issued a detention at once on Saturday.

"Smarmy bloke," Remus sighed, fighting back the impulse to do the opposite and award Harry house points he deserved as much as Hermione.

"Never could take a joke," Sirius agreed, still in between mirthless laughter. He'd never enjoyed Harry's snark as much as he was in this moment.

Lily brushed her hair out of her face, her laughter finally subsiding enough to frown at them. Snape had laughed at plenty of her jokes, and it saddened her to once again realize just how much he'd changed, where once he would have been laughing as hard as them if she'd done such a thing.

Ron congratulated him as they stepped out of the class, while Hermione scolded that had been a terrible idea!

Harry defended he'd been fixing to be jinxed! He was sick of Snape using him as a guinea pig! What had Dumbledore been thinking, putting him in this class? Did they hear all that stuff he was going on about the Dark Arts, he was in love with them!

Hermione interrupted to say she'd thought he sounded like Harry had last year.

The outrage bursting out of Harry was clear enough even before he'd finished, he didn't need to hear the others shock to continue in hopes she had a very good explanation for this that still wouldn't justify comparing him to that bat!

When he'd first given his speech to the DA, he'd said it was about more than memorizing spells. It took action and cunning, that's exactly what Snape had been saying.

"Many people have said the same thing in a new way," Remus contradicted, though it was in a more kindly tone than either of his friends could have managed, sounding more like he wanted to gently debate the subject with Hermione. "That does not necessarily mean those two are of the same mind, a very simple thought could be taken over a dozen different ways."

"So, don't insult Harry again," Sirius concluded.

Lily huffed and glared at all four of them, was it really such a terrible thing? There had been a time where she would have beamed if her boy turned into anything like her old friend. Not so much now, she'd admit, but it didn't have to be a blanket insult.

Harry was so disarmed that she had thought his words as well worth memorizing as The Standard Book of Spells that he did not argue.

Lily giggled in surprise as Harry's faint blush appeared in here as well.

Then Harry looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying toward him holding a roll of parchment. He handed it off before asking when Quidditch trials were?

Harry said he wasn't sure yet, thinking to himself Sloper would be lucky to make the team again.

"Wasn't he the one that knocked himself out with is own bat?" Sirius said in remembered disgust.

"How he even got on in the first place is still a mystery," James sighed.

Sloper began hoping it was going to be this weekend-

but Harry was not listening; he had just recognized the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. Leaving Sloper in mid-sentence,

"Can't even blame you, I wouldn't care what he wanted the schedule to be either," James muttered, only marginally more invested in whatever this was Dumbledore was up to.

he hurried away with Ron and Hermione, unrolling the parchment as he went.

Dear Harry,

I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at 8.

P.M. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school.

"Oh yes, got to watch McGonagall put a shrew in place, and then I in turn did the same," Sirius agreed enthusiastically.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops.

Harry laughed Snape wasn't going to be pleased his detention was being put off.

"As if he won't demand it be rearranged," James rolled his eyes.

He, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole of break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry advanced Defensive magic.

"Because that's so much better," Sirius rolled his eyes.

Remus stayed quite, not really thinking it was any of that, but baffled what it could be nonetheless.

After break, she went off to Arithmancy while Harry and Ron returned to the common room where they grudgingly started Snape's homework. This turned out to be so complex that they still had not finished when Hermione joined them for their after-lunch free period,

"What was the essay over?" Remus asked with far to much curiosity as far as Sirius and James were concerned. They could never sound so caring about something labeled as homework.

"The Theory of Nonverbal Spells and Their Impractical Uses," Harry huffed, his brain still getting a little sore at trying to read through texts about that.

Sirius couldn't help it, Snape's essay or not, the topic did light his intrigue and he opened his mouth to offer up something, but Harry hadn't noticed and kept going.

(though she considerably sped up the process). They had only just finished when the bell rang for the afternoon's double Potions and they beat the familiar path down to the dungeon classroom that had, for so long, been Snape's.

When they arrived in the corridor they saw that there were only a dozen people progressing to N.E.W.T. level. Crabbe and Goyle had evidently failed to achieve the required O.W.L. grade, but four Slytherins had made it through, including Malfoy. Four Ravenclaws were there, and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan, whom Harry liked despite his rather pompous manner.

He greeted Harry by offering his hand, again congratulating him for his show in DA, and then greeted Ron and Hermione.

Before they could say more than fine, the dungeon door opened and Slughorn's belly preceded him out of the door.

James couldn't help but snort at all the flashbacks that caused, they'd said many a same thing about him.

As they filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth, and he greeted Harry and Zabini with particular enthusiasm.

Remus clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes, some things never changed, while Lily giggled just a bit at thinking the exact same.

The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws. This left Harry, Ron, and Hermione to share a table with Ernie. They chose the one nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever inhaled: Somehow it reminded him simultaneously of treacle tart, the woody smell of a broomstick handle, and something flowery he thought he might have smelled at the Burrow.

"Amortentia," Lily said at once, though only Harry had looked to her for an answer.

James in particular had an unnaturally grumpy look on his face, still remembering the sting of his son thinking he'd used a love potion on his wife, or some other way for them to be together. He wasn't fond of them at the moment at any rate.

He found that he was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling him up like drink. A great contentment stole over him; he grinned across at Ron, who grinned back lazily.

Slughorn asked that they all have their scales and kits out, and turn their copies of Advanced Potion-Making to page-

Harry politely cut in to say he didn't have any things for this class, nor did Ron, explaining they'd thought they couldn't take the class.

Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and, after a moment's foraging, emerged with two very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Harry and Ron along with two sets of tarnished scales.

Harry couldn't properly explain it, but he felt a sharp tingling tracing up his spine for this. It was ridiculous of course, he'd just been given some old things, nothing was going to come of that.

Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest so that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst off,

"You learn to duck fast in that class," Sirius smirked, and Harry wasn't entirely sure if he was kidding or speaking from experience.

and began he'd prepared some potions they'd all come to recognize by the end of this class, and they ought to have at least heard of them by now. He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Harry raised himself slightly in his seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it.

"Veritaserum," Lily sighed, not appreciating the reminder of what Snape had once threatened to use on Harry, and in turn used to interrogate someone still that same year.

Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's; Slughorn pointed at her. She quoted the properties of Veritaserum verbatim.

Slughorn happily congratulated her before pointing to the next at the Ravenclaws table, giving them a hint this one had been mentioned by the Ministry's pamphlets of late.

Hermione's hand was fastest once more, stating it as Polyjuice Potion.

Harry too had recognized the slow-bubbling, mudlike substance in the second cauldron,

"Can't hardly forget that one," Harry's nose again crinkled in remembered disgust.

but did not resent Hermione getting the credit for answering the question; she, after all, was the one who had succeeded in making it, back in their second year.

Lily sighed in exasperation, that one still blew her mind.

Slughorn had barely gestured to the one at their table before, now looking slightly bemused, called Hermione's hand punching the air again. She identified this one as Amortentia, the strongest Love Potion in the world. The details of which were that it gave off an aroma unique to each person. She smelled freshly mown grass, new parchment, and-

But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence.

"Wonder why," Sirius said with honest interest, it's not as if it was really that revealing.

Slughorn asked for her name, and once given, speculated if she was related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?

"Would make his day to find another pureblood he could kiss up to," James sniffed.

"Instead he gets to meet another Lily," Sirius rolled his eyes while she flushed and glared at the pair.

She corrected she doubted this, as she was Muggle-born.

Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her.

He quoted Harry from the summer saying one of his best friends was the best in his year and Muggle-born, this must be that very friend.

Harry agreed, and Slughorn awarded her twenty house points for correctly identifying them all.

Malfoy looked rather as he had done the time Hermione had punched him in the face.

'Ah, good memories,' all of the boys were smirking again at once, thinking something similar.

Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression and whispered if he'd really said that?

Ron grumbled what was the big deal, for some reason looking annoyed.

"That, Harry gave the compliment and not him?" Remus asked in confusion. Harry shrugged, he had no clue of that reaction either.

He'd have said the same thing if anyone had asked him.

Slughorn continued on Amortentia, calling it the most powerful potion in this room, emphasizing this at the sceptical looks on some faces like Malfoy. When they'd lived as long as he had, they'd know how powerful and obsessive something like love could be.

"Sounds like he's speaking from experience," Harry said in surprise. He didn't often think about a teachers home life, but did suddenly wonder if Slughorn had been leaving more than old students in his trail of houses.

"I can't say for sure," Lily said with a bit of dignity, she didn't like to pry into her teachers lives.

Slughorn then tried to call attention to today's work, but Ernie cut in to ask about the potion still on his desk, which was full of bright gold potion that was all but leaping out of its very surface.

Harry shifted with that feeling all over again, he really didn't like he had one for all four of those potions, though all for varying reasons. He glanced hopefully at his mum, seeing at once she recognized it, and wasn't disappointed. "Felix Felicis. Highly dangerous if brewed just a tiny bit incorrectly, poisonous if taken regularly, but Merlin does it have some effect on the world."

The faint blush she ended with had all of the boys turning to look at her in the end though, James asked slowly, "Lily, did you happen to ever use some?"

She feigned as if she hadn't heard, giggling in a girlish way Harry hadn't really seen quite yet. However, she refused to elaborate, and waved her son on. He only grudgingly did so when a solid ten minutes of her husbands pestering proved futile.

Harry at once knew Slughorn had forgotten no such thing, but had saved it for dramatic affect. Slughorn wasn't at all surprised when Hermione told it was Felix Felicis, and that it made the drinker lucky.

The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter. Now all Harry could see of Malfoy was the back of his sleek blond head, because he was at last giving Slughorn his full and undivided attention.

"Is that all it took," James grumbled, huffier than usual with one eye still on his wife, who still kept breaking out into snickers.

He mentioned all the good of the potion, but once Terry asked why people didn't just drink it all the time, Slughorn explained all it's dangers as well.*

He'd had it twice, both perfect days. He gazed dreamily into the distance. Whether he was playacting or not, thought Harry, the effect was good.

"Nah, I'm confident that one's real," Sirius rolled his eyes.

He concluded it would be a prize for today's lesson. There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold. He pulled a tiny vile out of his pocket of the very same potion, enough for twelve hours.

"Hope Hermione uses it for something good," James grumbled, still giving his wife a pouting look she wouldn't acknowledge.

He first warned it was banned from sporting events, examinations, or elections, so be sure to only use it on an ordinary day, and watch it become extraordinary!

Then he told them to flip to their book on the Draught of Living Death.

There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible.

"A phrase you'll never hear Snape accomplish," Remus smirked.

Harry saw Malfoy riffling feverishly through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. It could not have been clearer that Malfoy really wanted that lucky day.

"Least we know he can't bribe his way into it," James finally stopped eyeing the red head to sneer at the book.

"His will probably be the worst attempt, he never had to try in that class," Sirius agreed.

Harry bent swiftly over the tattered book Slughorn had lent him.

To his annoyance he saw that the previous owner had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions. Bending low to decipher the ingredients (even here, the previous owner had made annotations and crossed things out) Harry hurried off toward the store cupboard to find what he needed. As he dashed back to his cauldron, he saw Malfoy cutting up Valerian roots as fast as he could.

Everyone kept glancing around at what the rest of the class was doing;

Lily tisked, she'd found by the end of the first year what an advantage and disadvantage that could be. It truly was sad Harry was still picking up on such things years too late.

this was both an advantage and a disadvantage of Potions, that it was hard to keep your work private. Within ten minutes, the whole place was full of bluish steam. Hermione, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest. Her potion already resembled the "smooth, black currant-colored liquid" mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.

Having finished chopping his roots, Harry bent low over his book again. It was really very irritating, having to try and decipher the directions under all the stupid scribbles of the previous owner, who for some reason had taken issue with the order to cut up the sopophorous bean and had written in the alternative instruction:

Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.

"Oh," Lily blinked at that.

"What?" James asked curiously, hoping she'd at least answer one question today.

"That'll work extremely well, seems this book gives very good advice, instead of just nonsense like Harry was thinking," Lily said, but there was a curious look on her face. There weren't many people who knew that trick.

Harry glanced up when Malfoy called for the Professor's attention, pointing out Slughorn had known his grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy.

Slughorn indifferently agreed, though he had been saddened at his death, but dragon pox at that age...

Then he walked away. Harry bent back over his cauldron, smirking. He could tell that Malfoy had expected to be treated like Harry or Zabini; perhaps even hoped for some preferential treatment of the type he had learned to expect from Snape. It looked as though Malfoy would have to rely on nothing but talent to win the bottle of Felix Felicis.

The sopophorous bean was proving very difficult to cut up. Harry turned to Hermione, asking to borrow her knife.

She nodded impatiently, not taking her eyes off her potion, which was still deep purple, though according to the book ought to be turning a light shade of lilac by now.

Harry crushed his bean with the flat side of the dagger. To his astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice he was amazed the shriveled bean could have held it all.

Harry's surprised little smile about made Lily's day. It was high time he finally saw the good this class could offer.

Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron he saw, to his surprise, that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook.

His annoyance with the previous owner vanishing on the spot, Harry now squinted at the next line of instructions. According the book, he had to stir counterclockwise until the potion turned clear as water. According to the addition the previous owner made, however, he ought to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counterclockwise stir.

Lily's brows disappeared right into her hairline now. How many students would have spent the time to figure that out, and wrote them down in an old potions textbook?

Could the old owner be right twice?

Harry stirred counterclockwise, held his breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned pale pink.

Hermione demanded how he'd done that, red faced with frustration her own was still purple.

He began to explain the trick of a clockwise stir, but she snappily said the book said counterclockwise!

"Why'd she snap if she didn't want to hear the answer?" Sirius laughed hard at Hermione's temper showing like that.

"What do you lot make of this?" Harry demanded, the eagerness in his voice far more than the Marauders understood.

"Some barmy kid was actually good at potions and took notes," Remus shrugged without concern.

"Probably blew a potion or two in their face trying," Sirius added with a smirk.

"Likely dumped the thing when they realized no one cared," James finished with an eye roll.

Lily pressed her lips together to stop herself laughing again. She still wasn't quite convinced yet, but those boys had just described a large amount of time in her youth, with her best friend, except that last part.

Harry shrugged and continued what he was doing.

Across the table, Ron was cursing fluently under his breath; his potion looked like liquid licorice. Harry glanced around. As far as he could see, no one else's potion had turned as pale as his. He felt elated, something that had certainly never happened before in this dungeon.

Lily couldn't help it now, her buoyant mood wouldn't keep the laugh contained, but the boys gave it no thought. Of course she'd be happy Harry was finally enjoying her favorite class.

Slughorn finally called for times up. He moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff. At last he reached the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in Ron's cauldron. He passed over Ernie's navy concoction. Hermione's potion he gave an approving nod.

"I don't get it," Harry said, glancing from the book in his lap to his mum. "Why would mine be better than Hermione's, if she's following all the instructions?"

"Hermione's about to learn a hard lesson about Potioneering," Lily happily explained. "Of course if you follow the instructions you'll get your desired Potion, Hermione's drought would have caused the same endless sleep as yours. However, because the previous owner spent the time to ruminate, perfect, tweak the potion even, your affects will be longer lasting, and much stronger. Potions are the only magic meant to be tampered with, carefully of course," she finished with a rueful hand down her bright hair.

Harry wondered how many times she'd singed it off by tweaking a potion. She certainly seemed very keen on the idea, and while Harry knew she'd liked the subject before, he'd never seen her so serious on it as she was now.

Then he saw Harry's, and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face. Announcing his as the clear winner! He'd certainly inherited his mother's talents!

Lily laughed harder than she meant to, really getting the boys attention now, but still she shook her head, not willing to admit yet what was on her mind. She really wasn't even sure what their reaction would be, and for now they just looked bemused, so she'd take that as long as she could.

Harry slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket, feeling an odd combination of delight at the furious looks on the Slytherins' faces and guilt at the disappointed expression on Hermione's. Ron looked simply dumbfounded.

Ron asked what he'd done, and Harry said he'd gotten lucky while Malfoy was still in ear shot.

Once they were securely ensconced at the Gryffindor table for dinner, however, he felt safe enough to tell them. Hermione's face became stonier with every word he uttered. He huffed if she really thought he'd cheated?

"It's not cheating," James rolled his eyes at once. Of course Hermione would be ticked her way hadn't worked.

"So Harry got a better instruction manual, according to Lily, that means someone out there could still do the Potion even better the next time," Sirius agreed.

She stiffly responded it hadn't exactly been his own work.

Ron just waved off he got different instructions. Slughorn could have just as easily given that book to him, but he'd only gotten one that someone puked on page fifty-two.

"Why was he looking that far ahead?" Remus chuckled in surprise, but answered his own question in his head. At the point Ron realized he wasn't winning, he supposed he would have started flipping through pages out of boredom.

A voice close by Harry's left ear cut in, and he caught a sudden waft of that flowery smell he had picked up in Slughorn's dungeon. He looked around and saw that Ginny had joined them.

Sirius burst out laughing in surprise at that. "I suppose Ginny spends a lot of time out in the gardens?"

Harry didn't really answer, just a muttered agreement, his mind felt suddenly loose from his body at her sudden appearance and he tried to shake that off, unsuccessfully.

Her voice was sharp, concerned, as she demanded if he'd really been taking instructions from a book.

"Oh," James murmured, all the humor vanishing almost at once from the room. That wasn't something nearly as fond to be remembered, the poor girl probably still had nightmares about that.

She looked alarmed and angry. Harry knew what was on her mind at once. He promised it was nothing like Riddle's diary, just some notes someone had scribbled down.

Hermione was excited Ginny could have a point.

"Yes, if the book's evil, that makes it okay it outsmarted you," Remus rolled his eyes.

She snatched it away from him and did a Specialis Revelio spell, but nothing happened.

Harry snatched it back, asking if she wanted to see it do backflips.

"Can it?" Sirius asked with only mild sarcasm. "That would have made reading them some actual fun sometimes."

"Bit more a challenge, couldn't hurt," James agreed.

As he tried to put it away into his bag, it slipped from his hand and landed open on the floor. Harry bent low to retrieve the book, and as he did so, he saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions that had won him his bottle of Felix Felicis, now safely hidden inside a pair of socks in his trunk upstairs.

This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.

Harry's eyes flipped wide in surprise, a harsh thump like before pressing in on him leaving no doubt he should know that name, recognize it to see it meant something.

He was distracted at once though by his mother throwing her head back laughing.

HPHPHPHP

I know, I know, you all hate me for again cutting off the good reaction. Promise everything you're wanting to ask will come up in the next chapter!

*This potion is one of the more common complaints I've seen of the HP world, and I think people forget this line in particular. It's not common, would take Hermione ages to make, and would be extremely dangerous to use consecutively to get a job done. I like that magic clearly has limits and downsides in this world, it makes it more real to me, instead of everything just having an easy solution if you take one bit of the answer and ignore the rest.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Of Poetry and Valentines

I’ve decided that even though I may not participate in every day of @ineffablehusbandsweek I might as well at least write a story for prompt #1.

1. Valentine’s Day -- (3,400 words)

Chocolate Love-A Cake.

Million Heart Cheesecake.

Mint-To-Be Chocolate Candies.

Some sort of cupcake simply titled Heart of the Batter.

Crowley had been standing in Aziraphale’s favorite bakery for over forty-five minutes. He’d stopped even trying to hold up the queue, which now simply flowed around him

Even the pastries without disgustingly twee names were covered in little frosting hearts and other nonsense. Not to mention all that pink.

“Are you ready to order yet?” asked the girl behind the till, handing yet another customer an absurdly elaborate confection that represented exactly six pounds and thirteen pence worth of I love you.

“Nh,” Crowley said, glancing at the coffee list. The flavors of the month started with Cupid Cappuccino and it went downhill fast from there. “Euh.”

“I’ll give you five more minutes,” she said, with far more chirpy good cheer than was strictly necessary.

--

The streets of Soho had been transformed. Paper hearts and cupids in every window; massive displays of roses, orchids, tulips and lilies spilled out in front of every shop, regardless of what they sold; even the nearest pub was covered in bright pink garlands and little red fairy lights.

Did no one in this district have even an ounce of self-respect?

Crowley stepped up to the Bentley and groaned. Someone had tied a red heart balloon to the wing mirror of every car on the street. Someone else had stuck little pink animal and flower shapes all over the windscreens.

The Bentley now sported a paper rabbit with Some bunny loves you! scrawled across it, as well as a large paper flower reading:

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Here’s a Valentine

Just for you!

He pulled them both off and shredded them to confetti, yet all the tiny pieces still managed to look like little hearts. The balloon he transformed into a pink-and-red football and kicked it as far down the street as he could.

Crowley slammed the door of the Bentley as he climbed in, and angrily shoved one of his favorite Wagner CDs into the player. Of course, what emerged was not the prelude to Das Rheingold but Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”

He slapped the radio off and glared at the dashboard. “Cut that out. I swear to Someone, if you even try and pull that on me today…”

Leaving the threat to hang in the air, he turned the radio back on and skipped to the second song, which was now “March of the Black Queen.”

“Better,” he muttered, and pulled away from the kerb.

--

Aziraphale had never taken to Valentine’s Day, no more than any other saint’s feast day, in any case. He hadn’t commented at all when, almost six centuries ago, it had been co-opted by certain European courts as a day of romance.

Crowley, on the other hand, dove right into it, reveled in it: the poetry, the elaborate tournaments, the sighing tales of courtly love. He was in his element.

After all, a celebration of love might be considered Heavenly, but a day devoted to pageantry and dramatic empty gestures? With an undercurrent of lust masked by a noble myth of pure adoration? That sounded downright demonic.

At least, that’s what he told Head Office. Humans, as always, did ninety percent of the work. Crowley simply observed and dropped a few well-placed suggestions. The poetry got worse, the eloquent love declarations more empty.

By 1800, the exchange of awful verse and sappy greetings in mid-February had become so entrenched in English society that printers had begun to mass-produce cards for the holiday. By 1835, thousands of Valentines – store bought or handmade – were sent through the post every year.

A few more whispered words into the right ears. In 1840, postal rates across the kingdom dropped, and the first postage stamp was introduced. The next February, four hundred thousand Valentines Day cards were mailed all around the country – and, thanks to the changes in the postal system, they could now be sent anonymously.

--

On the thirteenth of February, 1841, an envelope was delivered to A.Z. Fell & Co. Bookshop – there was no sender’s address, no salutation, just a number and street name, hastily scribbled. Inside was a simple piece of white card, covered enthusiastically but inexpertly with white lace; pasted in the center, framed by a heart, was a printed image, a bouquet of red roses and blue forget-me-nots. Below, a bit of gold ribbon surrounded a single word: Devotion.

“I don’t know, Angel,” Crowley grumbled when Aziraphale showed it to him. “Could be anyone. Could be one of your customers. Maybe one of them has a thing for rude shopkeepers.”

“I don’t think so,” Aziraphale said, turning the card over to study the pattern of the lace. “There’s something very familiar about it…”

“Familiar?” Crowley demanded sharply.

“I mean, the sender is being very familiar with the recipient. As if they’d known each other a long time.” He ran his finger across the single word. “Perhaps it was misdirected?”

“Nrg.” Crowley shrugged.

In 1842, another envelope arrived. This one held a pre-printed card, a single flower on a pink-and-gold background. A bright red heart, tucked behind a pink ribbon, carried the message:

Paeonia, symbol of happiness sublime

Wilt thou be my Valentine?

More pre-printed cards followed.

In 1843, two birds built a nest, filled with hearts instead of eggs.

In 1846, a couple strolling through a watercolor landscape under the words Valentine Greetings.

In 1849, a little girl in a white dress with a basket of roses, and the words With True Love.

In 1852, the angels started appearing. The first was surrounded by morning glories and gold filigree. Loving Greeting.

1853 brought back the lace and forget-me-nots, surrounding a winged figure wrapped in lace and gauze and little else. With Love and Devotion.

In 1854, a chubby cupid crossed a serene lake in a white-and-gold boat filled with pink roses; a line of white swans bridled with more roses pulled it along. Love’s Message to my Valentine.

“They’re just pre-printed messages,” Crowley pointed out in 1856. “They don’t mean anything. Whoever sent it probably just picked one that looked nice.”

“Oh, no, there’s real feeling behind it, I’m sure. Look at this.” It was the most elaborate yet: white lace, roses, hearts, a dove delivering a heart-covered envelope to a little angel, white ribbon framing a poem, tied in a perfect bow.

Crowley rolled his whole head in an exaggerated gesture. “Trying way too hard,” was all he said.

“Are you jealous?” Aziraphale asked with a grin.

“Jealous? What, that you get sappy misdirected mail? No, I’m fine without.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, studying first Crowley, then the card. “Sixteen years? Without missing one? Surely it must be intentional.”

“Angel, a million of those are sent every year. There has to be some mistakes in all that.”

“Perhaps you’re right…” His eyes ran across the poem one more time.

May this bow of white

Which gives delight

And which I send to you

A token be

Of love divine

Oh, will’t thou be

My Valentine?

“Truly horrible verse,” Crowley muttered. “Does that even scan?”

1857 saw the return of the hand-made cards. Skillfully cut paper, lace, ribbons, flowers – sometimes painted, sometimes embroidered onto linen. Pre-made pieces, painstakingly glued together with endearing imperfection. The messages were short, but hand-written: To My Star. Valentine Greeting. Love Always.

“They have different handwriting,” Crowley pointed out. “Different senders.”

“I suppose,” Aziraphale conceded. “Unless the sender is disguising their handwriting.”

“Wh-what? Why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know. But look – all the ribbons are pasted on exactly the same way.”

Crowley squinted at three different cards. “I don’t see it,” he said flatly. “I think it’s your imagination. Do you want a secret admirer?”

“No,” Aziraphale started slowly, glancing at Crowley from the corner of his eyes. “No, on the whole I’d rather have an admirer I knew.”

“Mh. Why do you keep those, anyway?”

“Oh, I love a mystery.” Aziraphale felt the grin slide across his face. “Anonymous cards, mailed to my shop every Valentines Day for almost twenty years? Simply irresistible, wouldn’t you say?”

Crowley, apparently, had nothing at all to say.

In 1862, the poetry returned, pre-printed again but at least somewhat better verse. Around a watercolor that was possibly meant to depict Romeo and Juliet:

I may wander over land and sea

Pass many days away from thee

Yet my heart can never rove

From thee, my own, my love.

Aziraphale professed it was his favorite yet, but Crowley only scowled.

--

The greatest shock was the card that arrived in 1864.

Aziraphale had not expected anything that year. The envelope sat in his hands, as simple and anonymous as all the others. Inside, a heart-shaped card framing an almost embarrassingly cute cat.

This little kitten,

Valentine,

Has come to ask you

To be mine.

He suddenly realized he had made a grave miscalculation. If these cards were still arriving after…after certain recent developments…that could only mean…

Well. At least Crowley was no longer around to realize what a foolish conclusion he’d jumped to.

Another print arrived in 1865, a young lady holding a tulip to her nose.

Oh! Would I were the flower that sips

The honied kisses from your lips.

My Darling Valentine.

The card tumbled from his trembling fingers.

Why? Why did he even bother opening it? Why did he keep them even now?

Aziraphale grabbed all twenty-five Valentine’s Day cards and thrust them into a box. He found a spot on the highest shelf of the bookcase furthest from the door, tucked the box into a corner so gloomy even he could barely spot it. He was absolutely determined to forget any cards had ever arrived.

The envelope that arrived in 1866 was tucked, unopened, into a thick volume of Greek philosophy and pushed back onto a dusty shelf. Aziraphale swore no matter how many more arrived, he would never look.

But, as if a spell were broken, no more Valentines were delivered after that. And the last one remained unopened for over seventy-five years.

Until, two nights after a certain incident in a church, he found it again, hands shaking from the exertion of the search, from the unnamed emotions racing through him.

The card inside was gold and silver lace, simple yet elegant in a way he hadn’t remembered the others being. There was an earnest charm to the way the edges didn’t quite line up to the white paper underneath. In the center, a printed poem, surrounded by hand-painted flowers in more varieties than Aziraphale could name.

Valentine –

Fain would I guard thee through life’s desert drear

And fling around thee love to soothe and cheer

For thee I live might I but call thee mine

I’d be forever thy own Valentine.

He didn’t know how it was possible, but only one being in all Creation would send such a poem.

Aziraphale sat down on the floor of his shop. The tears he’d been holding in for two days finally began to fall.

--

After Crowley woke from his extended nap, he was disgusted to find how the holiday had spiraled out of control, how it only grew worse with every passing decade. Chocolates. Jewelry. Mass-market commercialization. It became a million-pound industry, and eventually a billion-pound one. Where once hopeful lovers could send a chintzy greeting card for a few pennies, the fools now spent a week’s pay – or more – on useless trinkets, somehow convinced it would ensure a return of affection.

And the engagements! The diamond rings, the elaborate proposals.

It was an absolute mockery of the cheap, empty exchange of sentiments he had spent so long cultivating. Was nothing sacred?

He was sure the Americans were to blame.

And yet now, when the holiday was devoid even of the anti-meaning Crowley had worked so hard to endow it with, now Aziraphale took notice? Now he began decorating his shop with angels even more absurd than the ones he usually collected? Now he put vases full of dried flowers on every table – roses and carnations and tulips in pink and red and white?

Every year, the traditions grew worse, yet Aziraphale only embraced the holiday more.

--

The Apocalypse had come and gone. The world had changed. For eight months they’d stood on the cusp of…something.

It was absurd. They each knew how the other felt – there was no denying it at this point – but somehow, after six thousand years, Crowley suddenly couldn’t find a way to say the words. Now it was Aziraphale waiting patiently on him, and if that wasn’t embarrassing, he didn’t know what was.

He just needed the right time. He’d hoped Valentine’s Day could be it.

But here it was, the fourteenth of February, and all Crowley felt was fed up. He couldn’t bring himself to buy the overpriced flowers, the punfully-named treats, even a racy gag gift (of which there was never any shortage in Soho). It just felt…empty.

He walked into the bookshop and prepared to disappoint his angel.

--

Aziraphale had set up a garland of sorts, too, but not paper flowers or bright red crepe paper. Across the two pillars nearest the door – where no one entering the shop could miss them, let alone Crowley – hanging from a string, were twenty-six Victorian Valentine’s Day cards.

Some were handmade – clumsy and uneven. Some were pre-printed – cheap, mass-produced. All were just a little tacky, but in the light of the shop, they seemed to glow with love.

“Ah! You’re here.” Aziraphale emerged with a pile of 19th-century romance novels, which he proceeded to arrange on the front table, to more easily chase customers away from them. “How do you like my decorating?”

“Oh. Uh. You. You kept those.”

“Naturally.” He didn’t even turn away from his task. “They were sent by someone very important to me.”

Crowley gulped. “You worked that out, then?”

“Yes, dear, in 1843.” Aziraphale chuckled, standing a copy of Wuthering Heights on the top of his display.

“Uh…Nh…” Crowley felt his face getting very warm. “You could have said –”

“I assumed, at the time, this was the beginning of some very elaborate prank on your part, and I was curious to see where it might go.”

“You – you said it was a mystery!”

“Yes, that was me playing along.” Satisfied with his display, Aziraphale turned back. “Now, if we’re finally going to talk about this, I do have a question.”

Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet. No avoiding this, it seemed. “Fine. Right. I wanted to tell you how I felt, but it was…it was too much. Too big.” He looked at the ceiling as he talked, the walls, anywhere but at the angel who was now watching him with rapt attention. “You’d just reject it, and I didn’t want that kind of…y’know. So I just – I devalued what it means to say…that…on Valentine’s Day. Made it cheap and easy and meaningless so that when I told you, maybe it wouldn’t seem so big. Maybe you’d be able to accept it. Or at least maybe the rejection wouldn’t hurt as much.”

Soft footsteps across the floorboards, and Aziraphale’s hand on his cheek, drawing his face back down to meet that blue gaze.

“I know. I worked that out, oh, seventy years ago.”

“You what?”

“Once I understood how you felt, well, it seemed rather obvious. I also know why it never worked.”

Crowley hadn’t felt this completely lost since the night the world had almost ended. He reached up and grasped Aziraphale’s hand for balance. “Please…enlighten me.”

“Crowley, dear. A meaningless bit of frippery bought for a few pennies? A quiet I love you disguised as a joke? That’s not who you are. You need a big, grand show of affection, a blazing banner across the sky, or it won’t ever feel real to you. So even when I told you I liked the cards, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. The holiday was all wrong.”

“Thanks,” Crowley grumbled.

“Well, I was going to say something when you next sent me a card, only you never did. And so I, well, I decided to encourage the humans to, as you say, ‘go bigger.’ I thought you wouldn’t be able to resist a culture of grand romantic gestures. Only I’m not very subtle and it got rather out of hand.”

Behind his glasses, Crowley blinked.

“So…all – all that,” Crowley waved a hand at the window. “All that was you?”

“Oh, yes.” He smiled apologetically, though the bastard had probably never been sorry a day in his life. “The holiday generally, and also more specifically the state of Soho just now. I’ve been rather giddy lately and it seems to have gone contagious.”

Crowley thought of everything the day had come to mean – the heart-shaped sweets, the over-the-top dinners, flowers that cost as much as an outfit, jewelry that cost as much as a car. Piles of gifts of every description, sky-diving marriage proposals, holiday getaways to Paris or Florence or tiny cottages in snow-filled forests.

“Aziraphale,” he laughed, found he couldn’t stop laughing. “Angel! You…you made a whole holiday of big, stupid, over-the-top romantic gestures for me?”

“Only because you started it.” He slipped his arms around Crowley’s neck, pulling them together, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s hips, pressing their bodies close. The words he wanted to say danced on the edge of his tongue, waiting for the right moment.  Not yet, not yet. Instead he asked, “Didn’t you have a question?”

“Ah, yes. How did you do it?” Aziraphale pulled back enough to look up at his eyes. “The last three cards arrived while you were asleep.”

“Oh! That’s easy enough.” His hands found their way into Aziraphale’s and, without anyone needing to suggest it out loud, they walked together to the back room and the well-worn sofa, where a bottle of wine waited for them. “I didn’t want to lose my nerve, so I would buy and send the cards five at a time. I gave the post office instructions to mail them one per year. I told myself each time, ‘After the last card, I’ll say it out loud.’ But, well, I always wound up buying more cards.”

Aziaphale froze two steps away from the sofa. “Are you saying you haven’t bought me a Valentine since 1861? This is outrageous.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, flinging himself down and pulling Aziraphale after him. “Have you seen what passes for romantic verse these days? Pathetic. I’m not going to pay…five pounds or whatever it is for that nonsense.”

“Mmm.” Aziraphale shifted to lean against him, flashing another bastard smile. “I suppose the card selection has been disappointing lately. Still, an angel likes a little poetry now and again.”

“Poetry, is it?” Crowley pulled off his glasses and tossed them aside so he could meet that breathtaking blue gaze straight on. Caught one of Aziraphale’s hands and held it to his chest.

Women have loved before as I love now;

At least, in lively chronicles of the past –

Of Irish waters by a Cornish prow

Or Trojan waters by a Spartan mast

Much to their cost invaded – here and there,

Hunting the amorous line, skimming the rest,

I find some woman bearing as I bear

Love like a burning city in the breast.

I think however that of all alive

I only in such utter, ancient way

Do suffer love; in me alone survive

The unregenerate passions of a day

When treacherous queens, with death upon the tread,

Heedless and willful, took their knights to bed.

“Oh,” Aziraphale murmured. “Well, that’s hardly appropriate for a card.”

Crowley tried to raise Aziraphale’s hand to his lips, but discovered he was shaking too much. “It’s – You’re probably right. But it’s how I’ve felt. For a very long time.”

Aziraphale pulled his hand back, then leaned in to softly brush his lips against Crowley’s. Hesitant. Shy. But when he finished, he didn’t pull back. Crowley could feel the trembling of Aziraphale’s breath, mirroring his own.

“I love you, too,” his angel whispered. “I hope you know that.”

-- end --

Inspired by the pastries at my local bakery, and by a conversation with @angel-and-serpent 

All the Victorian Valentines described are actual cards (I tried to do all vintage, but some may have been replicas/modern cards in “Victorian” style), slightly altered to be easier to describe. I also changed a word or two where the poetry was especially bad.

The final poem is by Edna St. Vincent Millay. I’ve said many times I default write the Husbands as asexual, but then Crowley goes and picks one of the sexy sonnets, so I guess interpret where things go from there as you see fit. (I’m ace myself and not going to try and deny the power of Millay’s sexy sonnets. Look at that thing. I become 5% more allo and 8% gayer every time I read it.)

[alittlesliceofcucumber]

Stuff I Liked About Black Friday

Spoilers!

Uncle Wiley is literally every commercial guy rolled into one 

DO THE WIGGLE 

UM PAUL AND EMMA?!!! <3 

“I don’t care, Paul.” paul ignores her and continues anyway 

Honestly Paul and Emma are such moods  

THE LA DEE DA DA DAY THEME IN THE BACKGROUND MY HEART 

“Okay.” Oh, I missed you Paul. 

EMMA DOES THE “OK” THING TOO PAUL YOU’RE A BAD INFLUENCE

Is Tom supposed to be lovable? Because I love him 

He just wants his son to be happy? Wholesome problematic dad 

Dylan. Saunders. 

Dylan. Saunders’s. Voice. 

2 songs in and I’m amazed by the music, props to Jeff Blim 

THAT ENTRANCE THO OMG COREY 

I love Frank’s little songs so much 

Ethan’s… outfit? Ethan’s attitude 

no seriously is ethan wearing a kilt or 

THE POWER OF GREYSKULL 

that transition into the next song tho 

Ethan and Hannah bopping in the background are my last 2 brain cells 

I see Ethan is part of Smoke Club™️

I love the harmonies in CaliforMIA

HANNAH NO NOT SMOKE CLUB™️

“Well my children were accidents” WOAH

HOLD ON IS THAT HOMELESS GUY IN THE QUEUE

Gerald is the true MVP of Black Friday don’t @ me. 

I love how Becky and Tom are talking like normal human beings while the public is dancing its heart out behind them

COREY FINALLY GOT A SONG AND I LOVE IT

The moment I saw Jon’s suited non-Paul character I knew I was gonna love him. I was not wrong.

His name is Gary apparently and I love him

“F#ck youuuu!" 

"3 dollars!” Oh Homeless Guy, how I missed you.

I low-key want Homeless Guy to get the doll

Supportive Ethan is best Ethan

“EEEEEEEEEEEE” oh gary

WHAT IS IT WITH ALL OF ROBERT MANION’S CHARACTERS DYING

Poor Ethan :(

Woah Uncle Wiley is suddenly super ominous

THE OBAMA IMPRESSION I’M DYING

You know it’s going down when America Is Great Again starts playing

The return of Jeff’s falsetto!

ACT 2

THE CHOREOGRAPHY

“Mr Humbugger? I’m in trouble now” since when is this a 2000s teen movie

OH IT’S THAT SANTA MOVIE

This is song is a BOP

“There’s an alternate reality” *looks left* *looks right* T…TGWDLM?

The PEIP theme is awesome and super ominous

Why is it that Homeless Guy is always first to be infected

(I’m not too keen on the whole religious theme but I’m loving the musical anyway)

GARY TIED HIS TIE AROUND HIS HEAD I STAN

ETHAN NO- 

The luring song gives off Come Little Children and Join Us (And Die) vibes at the same time

The echo effect is so good

THE WIGGLY… puppet? LOOKS AWESOME

Jon’s light-hearted British voice makes it sounds super creepy i love it so much

He’s authorizing her to use his firearm!

The eagle is so fitting for McNamera XD

Tom’s the Warrior?!

I WANNA TALK TO GERALD LINDA HOW DARE YOU

hold on a sEC CHARLOTTE’S THERE

Linda reminds me of my piano teacher. Don’t ask.

DANCE SOLOS WOOOOO 

rip homeless guy

“Kooky, reclusive biology professor” insert eyes emoji here

HOT CHOCOLATE GUY MY FAV YES I HAD A FEELING HE WOULD TURN UP AND HE DID MY SKIN IS CLEAR MY CROPS HAVE BEEN WATERED YES- AND BILL AND CHARLOTTE AT THE TOP

wait are these all characters in the next musical?!

THE END NO NO NO DOES TOMORROW COME OR?

Ok so I love this so much. A great step forward from TGWDLM. Everyone was amazing, and the new Starkids also blew my mind. I hope we see more of each of them!

And now we wait for the next one XD

[justgalsbeing-pals]

coffee shop au because we need more of those

linny linny more linny

———————————————————————

It was too early for the shop to be this crowded. Ginny had the second shift of the day and yet she found herself fighting her way through the queue to get behind the counter. She pushed her way onto the counter top, swinging her legs around until she was safely behind it.

“Morning Gin.” Neville said. Ginny smiled at him. Neville was precisely the person she wanted to see right now.

“Hey Neville, busy today huh?” He chuckled as she tied her apron on. She hurried up to the cash machine beside him.

“Hi welcome to Bean co., what can i get for you?” Ginny looked up into the beadiest pare of eyes she’s ever seen. She was positive this women had no irises, just pure black. He mouth was set in a thin line. The woman glared at Ginny.

“Took you long enough, do you know i have places to be?” She snapped accusingly, as if Ginny hadn’t just arrived.

“Sorry, what would you like.” Ginny tried to sound cheery and polite, but it came out flat. Something about this woman made her teeth grinde.

“I’ll have an earl grey, but with no flavourings.”Ginny stared at her. It was too early for this.

“Did you mean hot water?” It wasn’t meant to come out as a sigh, but the sun hasn’t risen and Ginny isn’t prepared.

“No! Aren’t you listening-“ Ginny stopped listening and let the lady ramble on about how tea without the tea bag is still tea. She charged her for an earl grey anyway. The lady huffed and walked away, her heels slamming into the floor obnoxiously loud, Ginny thought, seeing as she could here them from the other side of the room.

Ginny tried to take more orders, acting light and cheery, smiling and thanking people. The ladies foot kept tapping as she waited for her ‘tea’. She stared ahead. She took orders. The tapping grew faster, louder. Ginny almost punched the orders into the screen. The tapping was suddenly very prominent, and then it stopped. Ginny looked up in almost relief. She looked up into black specs of eyes. Jesus. Ginny gave the woman a look of what ginny hoped was pure loathing.

“ What seems to be the problem?” She asked sweetly.

“ Your tea burnt my tounge” oh my god oh my god

“ Did you blow on it.” Ginny was about to grit her teeth away.

“I shouldn’t have to-“ Ginny was about to deck a middle aged woman. If neville hadn’t wondered over.

“So sorry, we’ll remake your tea is you want, or give you a refund?” How can he sound so calm and airy? He gave Ginny a look, and she sighed internally. She felt all her spirit leave her body. Ginny turned to the woman and smiled. She want to hit her.

“What do you want?” The woman smiled smugly at her. She looked grotesque, like a frog with human skin. She stared into Ginnys eyes. Why are her pupils so small?

“Remake it.” Ginny took a few deep breaths.

“Of course, sorry for the inconvenience.” She heard the woman’s retreating foot steps and she wanted to punch the counter. But the lines too long, so she made a mental note to hit something later.

Ginny had somehow made it through her shift, with only ten minutes left and no line, she allowed her self to relax. The women was still there, watching Ginny, her eyes were slits. Ginny smiled at her and she looked away, disgusted. Ginny looked at the clock, 7 minutes. She glared at it. Where was he?

It was if she summoned him, because Harry Potter walked through the door, the little bell almost coming of its handle. He rushes up to the counter and shoves himself behind it, chest heaving and face flushed. Ginny glared at him.

“Where have you been? I was here all alone, abandoned.” Harry looked up at her, glaring, but there was no heat behind it.

“Abandoned for twenty minutes?” He grins at her, and goes to grab his apron.

“ Yes, i was practically left for dead, there was a literal witch i was serving, wanted tea with no flavouring?.” Harry turned around, confused.

“Isn’t that just water?”

“Exactly.” Ginny sighed. And then she was overcome with anger. It was as if she’d summoned her. The tell tale clips of heels sounded form behind her and Ginny whipped around, determined to jump over the counter and physically fight this woman. What Ginny didn’t expect was to be glaring into the most beautiful eyes she’s ever seen. Blue, light and dark at the same time, cornflower she guessed. Ginny realised she was still glaring at this girl, and her eyes were startled. Ginnys expression softened and a warm blush crept up her neck.

“Hi- um- hello, sorry what can i get for you.” God. The girl smiled at her awkwardly and pointed at the sugar jar on the counter.

“Just some more sugar cubes please,” and she held out an empty bowl. Wow her voice was amazing, it was high, but not squeaky and annoying and fake. It had a rasp to it. Ginny nearly sighed out loud. Then she realised the girl was still standing there, holding her empty bowl expectantly. Ginny hastily took the bowl from her and for a moment their fingers touched. Ginny felt her soul leave her. She wa da distasteful. She filled the bowl with sugar cubes, too much, and shoved it back into the girls hands.

“ Uh, thank you,” she said and looked at Ginny’s apron,”Gin?” Ginny was blushing so much she thought her face would burst.

“Uh well it’s Ginny, actually, short for Ginerva,” why did she say that “ My friends call me Gin”

The girl smiled at her again (awkwardly? Maybe?)

“ Well i’m luna then, um, thanks for the sugar.”

“Yeah fine um you enjoy it,” what what what.

Luna waved at her, waved, god she’s so adorable. and luna? That has to be the best name she’s ever heard. She watched her walk away. She feel harry grinning from behind her.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Shut up your thoughts then.”

She turned to look at him, and glared at the shit eating grin on his face.

“Wow, never thought i meet a more disastrous bi than myself, and yet, here we are.” Ginny groaned.

“Was i really that bad?” Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He looked at her, sincerely and reassuringly. He smiled at her walmly.

“You were a train wreck.”

“Piss off,” She shoved his arm away and he laughed. He stopped laughing and looked up at the door. He grabbed Ginny and turned her around.

“Juliets leaving Romeo, you gonna ask for her number?” Ginny watched Luna leave, what little hope left in her was gone. She turned around, and let her go.

———————————————————————

might do a second chapter in Luna’s PoV

[punkyoctos]

Heyo, tis I, Kim! Welcome to punkyoctos, your one stop shop for all your confession needs. Confessions are currently OPEN, so confess your little hearts out. All confessions made will be posted ANONYMOUSLY to protect the identities of the confessors.

Under the cut will be a breakdown of all the rules you can find in the submission box. The rules may be subject to update, and an announcement will be made if there are changes. Rules must be followed at all times while confessing.

RULE ONE - “Please do NOT use the confessions to dox or call out a member of the community. That is not the point of this blog, and you will be blocked.”

Case in point, the point of this blog is to have a little fun, and immerse ourselves just a little bit more in the community that has come to surround Octopunk Media. Whether it’s Livescream, Paradisa, or most generally DA/DE, we’re all in this together, and this blog is here to celebrate it! Therefore, call outs of other members of the community - no matter the intent - will be deleted on site. Doxxing of community members will always result in a block, because doxxing is illegal no matter the area of the world you live in, and is gross all around.

RULE TWO - “Bigotry of any sort will result in an immediate block.”

This rule is rather self-explanatory. The community is very diverse, with a very prominent LGBT+ fanbase. Any kind of erasure will not nor ever be tolerated. Anyone that believes otherwise most certainly should step away from the community and evaluate their way of thinking before stepping a single toe in the door.

RULE THREE - “Submit only one confession per 24 hours.”

As of right now, I am the only person manning this blog. To ensure I do not become encumbered with more confessions I can handle - and that any future mods I bring do not become overwhelmed - only one confession per day from the same person is allowed. Anything more from the same person will be deleted. A repeat offender will be messaged with a reminder of the rule, and if it’s continuously ignored, they will be blocked.

RULE FOUR - “Please be patient after submitting a confession. You may inquire about the status of a confession, but only once per week. Constant inquiries will result in refused submissions and a potential block.”

Again, I am only one person. This is also to ensure that I and any future mods are not overwhelmed with inquiries as to the status of a confession. Rest assured that once a confession is made, it will be drafted up as an anonymous post and thrown in the queue. 

RULE FIVE - “Keep confessions PG-13. X-rated confessions will be deleted, in the name of keeping this blog open and accessible to everyone.”

Because there are members of the community that are minors, it is best that confessions veer into a safer area. Anything along the lines of nsfw/adult topics will be deleted, with a reminder message sent to the confessor. Repeat offenses will result in a block.

RULE SIX - “NO REAL LIFE SHIPPING CONFESSIONS. Under no circumstances will real life shipping confessions be tolerated on this blog. You WILL be blocked.”

Case in point, real life shipping/fanfic has a long track record of being a gross violation of privacy. To have strangers online outright stating that one has or is a certain way very much drives people away from friends, family, and romantic partners. It is not nor ever will be acceptable. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should, you are not a god, you cannot play with people’s lives like they’re fictional characters. Stop it, get some help.

RULE SEVEN - “Please make all submissions in English, so that everyone can understand.”

Very self-explanatory. Despite a world-wide community, Michelle is American, and only speaks/understands English fluently. Any replies made in any other language are generally run by translators since Google Translate alone is on the other side of reliable. I, myself, am American and only speak/understand English fluently. This rule is only so that confessions are accessible to everyone.

Feel free to ask any questions. Repeat questions will likely be thrown in a FAQ, so there’s something to refer back to when inquiring about anything. Happy confessing!

-Mod Kim

[moshofmuses]

Da Rules

⚠️ = A pretty important rule on my blog. If you’re in a hurry, just read these bullets. The rest is basically either common sense or not very important.

—-

⚠️This blog has gone through many changes recently. As of right now, Grimm is the main muse. Main muse gets most of their drafts published right away. While side muses are slower and go through the queue most of the time.

⚠️None of the icons belong to me (a few do, but idc if they’re credited or not.) If you are the artist, let me know if you want it taken down. I DO NOT accept people who are NOT the artist telling me to take it down. Do not speak for others.

⚠️I try to stay with one thread per muse with your muse. If you want your muse to have a thread with each of mine, that fine and I encourage it! If you want 15 of your muses to rp with one of mine, that’s fine too! AUs are also fine! I just don’t want 50 threads between the same muses. When you start a new one, I will drop the old one unless I am really into it (if that is so, i will keep both.) CRACK + ONE LINERS are not included in this. Feel free to reply to any crack and I will keep any threads we have still!

Opens are for anyone! Too timid to approach and ask for one? Just look on the open pages for the muses, and see if there are any that floats your goat, go ahead and reply and I’ll get back to it when I can! Honestly I encourage replies to opens.

⚠️NSFW is allowed, but not smut really. I don’t like smut really, but things like violence, gore, and all that is fine and I like it. I also don't like fighting RPs

Any age is welcome to my blog. I will be honest, I have a LOT more patience with younger folk than adults.

⚠️If you send me an IM, don’t expect a reply back, or at least for a while. I would really prefer NOT to use IMs, as it causes anxiety and I just don’t like it. I only answer IMs on breaks at work (which is early morning.) If you spam my IMs, it’s automatic block. To contact me (and preferred and quicker) ask for my discord. I will pretty much give it to anyone, mutual or not.

    -If you have me on discord, and you message me on IMs here, I will not reply. IMs are for people who don’t have discord or wish to build up trust before adding me.

⚠️Please only ask about a thread if you have actively seen me replying to threads. And keep this in mind before you ask me; Would I want to be asked this soon? If the answer is no, then probably don’t ask. All that I ask, is if you do ask, do so once. I don’t like to be poked a lot. This goes the same for PMs. Also I do not want any poking regarding threads, this includes: Liking the post after a day or so (unless you are saving it) asking if I got the thread, asking anything about the thread, reblogging the thread again. Etc. DON'T DO IT.

⚠��Generally, please wait about three days before asking.

I usually don’t reply to tags. It’s not that I am ignoring you, I just forget due to me drafting everything asap.

This blog is no longer mutual only. I will RP with anyone. No matter your skills or characters. Though keep in mind, if you do taboo things such as god mod and such, then I will NOT RP with you.

I will no longer RP with personals. Due to events on my previous blog that made me move, I don’t want personals interacting with this blog at all.

Me unfollowing you will happen for the following; You have untagged stuff I don’t want to see, post too much ooc (I am perfectly fine with ooc talk, but if you’re reblogging pictures and random posts that has NOTHING to do with your muse, I will PROBABLY unfollow (unless it amuses me or I don’t mind it.) WHEN I UNFOLLOW it means I will STILL RP with you. I just didn’t want your stuff on my dash.

Blocking= You give me bad vibes, I don’t like the way you talk to me, you vague post, issues that are with YOU and not the blog. WHEN I BLOCK SOMEONE, I will NOT RP with them or talk to them or anything. I give no warnings, cuz I don’t have to.

I will never soft block someone.

I will RP with ANY fandom. Whether I know it or not. (I honestly like to go in blind. My muse doesn’t know yours so it makes it more realistic and I learn things with my muse.)

Mun =/= Muse.

Paragraphs > one liners. That being said, most of my starters will be one liners.

I REALLY do NOT like RPing nothing but one liners. I don’t mind it here and there in an RP when it’s just a paragraph, but nothing but one liners.. I can’t focus on them and I lose interest, thus I will drop it. Sorry if you can’t do longer threads, but I can’t do nothing but short replies.

    Note: If you do do one liners, I will make an honest attempt to keep the thread going. I can keep one going if the other person tries as well. It’s called effort and I can work with effort.

I ship with chemistry. Please don’t be hurt if I don’t approve of a ship.

This blog is mutliship.

I usually stay away from multi threads. (Unless with multi muses and it’s with a different character.)

Don’t like a starter call if you don’t intend to reply. I don’t remind people due to anxiety.

No god modding, auto hitting, etc. We all know that stuff. Don’t do it. Unless you get permission of course

I do not send pass words for rules read. I admit, I DO forget, or I’ve read so many they blend together.

Mun is a potato.

Mun uses he/him pronouns himself, however, I really do not care what you refer to me as. Whatever you see me as is okay by me~. (He/him/she/her/they/them. It all works.)

⚠️If you make a starter in my ask, reply to it in a separate post. Honestly if you don’t do this, there’s a big chance I won’t reply.

⚠️Please do not spam me. Whether it’s asks or IMs. I don’t mind continuations off of a message, but spamming me is a no no. As in don’t send another message after your 2nd message to me. This ALSO includes like spamming. That will get you blocked. (Unless it’s a friend trolling me or something.)

This blog does contain considerable amount of OOC posts, they are tagged as ‘Ti speaks.’ or if it’s a pic of video ‘not rp’ or ‘ooc’

Do not reblog RPs you are part of.

⚠️I AM NOT YOUR THERAPIST. Please do NOT come to me with your problems. Only very close friends may vent to me that I feel comfortable with. I’m sorry this sounds mean but it really affects my own health when I start helping random strangers. If you come to me starting something, I will probably ignore it.

I AM FLEXIBLE, I CAN and WILL make exceptions! Just ask about whatever is on your mind.

I am perfectly fine with RPing with someone who doesn’t use icons. I use mine out of habit and it doesn’t feel right NOT using them. But I imagine pictures and scenes of what’s happening in my head.

⚠️I work a full time job. I am at work for nine hours or more, five days a week. I work from 10pm-7am PST. I sometimes have very low energy at points and don’t do much. Work seriously affects my mood to write. If I have a good day, I have an easier time writing, if I have a bad day, it’s hard to write. Please understand I also have a low social battery, I am not a social creature, and if I talk too much, or talk to too many people, I get drained and that leads to bad depression. So please do not poke me too much for replies. Doing so will upset me very much, and I will withdraw. And that is not fair to everyone else.

⚠️And the most important rule on this blog– HAVE FUN!

—-

If you have read my rules, please either like this post, or reply to it with your side blog urls. I will be more understanding to people who have read these.

If someone doesn’t read my rules, and breaks them, I will simply say ‘read my rules.’

-Ti

[ladieslovingladiesandfics]

La Belle et la Sorcière

Anonymous asked: Okay since literally NO ONE writes for Disney Descendants, do you think you can do a Mal x Ben/Chad's sister fic. It doesn't have to be either of the princes, but I kinda like the idea of this high class royal kid falling in love with this high class evil kid

Descendants Anonymous here, I would prefer the reader to be Ben'a sister tbh

Hi, this is the descendants anon. I don't know if you saw the second part of the request I sent or if I even sent it, but i would like it to be a general princess x Mal (she doesn't have to be evil, but whatever works best for your writing is great)

Ma dude, my darling, you have awoken something within me. I am a huge fairytale nerd and you can bet your fucking ass I will use my knowledge to the best of my ability to do this. I am 10000000% ready for this shit oh my god. I also watched Pete’s Dragon before writing so yeh...hahaha.

Big shout out to my friend Roxy (I think she has a tumblr I forget what it’s called haha, whoops sorry) for helping me out. She’s Canadian and speaks French. The title translates to, ‘The Beauty and the Witch’ since like...Beauty and the Beast and Sleeping Beauty both have French origins. So thanks so much for help me out darling! *blows kisses*

And thank you very much for the compliment darling! Anyway, here we go~!

Warnings: Uh....fluff? Dragons. This thing is long as fuck holy shit. And this sucks.

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

You were like Ben…and yet you were not. Yes you two had the same parents and you two are siblings, yada yada all that mumbo jumbo, but your eyes were set on a different path. You adored magic, and all sort of magical creatures. Yes you were a princess and next in line to become the possible queen of Auradon and all, but your love was for the magic of the world and nature most of all. You would study forbidden magical texts without the knowledge of your parents, much to the chagrin of Ben.

It all changed one day when you found a little dragon hatchling, abandoned in the forests of Auradon, half dead and with a wound on its forehead. You couldn’t help but feel sorry, and decided to take care of it. You named it Éclair, as when the scar healed, it looked like a lightning bolt. Every day you returned to the forest where Éclair lived, tossing it some food you saved from the lunch at the cafeteria. Éclair was a dark colored dragon, its hide was colored like soot save for the pearly white scar and its yellow eyes. Éclair was a friendly thingy, mostly. You wanted to show it off to Ben but…would he be happy about it?

None the less, Éclair was your little secret. That is…until the villain kids came from the Isle of the Lost.

“Éclair! Éclair!” Your hands cupped your mouth, calling out for your dragonic friend. You whistled sharply thrice, a signal between the two of you. There was a rustle of the trees and a beat of wings, a gush of air that nearly toppled you over. Down came Éclair from the skies above, landing in the safety of the trees that hide it from prying eyes. The beast lowered its massive head, purring softly and happily.

You clutched the strap of the knapsack you had, laughing at how big the hatchling as grown over the past two years that you have known it. You open the pouch, pulling out your sandwich in a container and a larger plastic bag. “I snuck out of class today,” you admitted to Éclair, opening the plastic covered bag. Inside were turkey legs, which you had stolen from the cafeteria…thanks to using that little magical spell you learnt from Jane. “Ugh, it was boring.” You sit down on a boulder, putting the sandwich container on your lap as you pulled out a turkey leg, tossing it over to the dragon who expertly caught it into its mouth. “I like being out here with you. I like being a princess and all but…it’s just not what I want to be you know?”

Éclair and you have had this conversation many times. You often came out to snuggle with the dragon in the dark of night, a flashlight in your hand a book in your lap as you told Éclair about what you wanted to do with your life: to travel, see the world, and learn more about it. All of a sudden, the onyx head of Éclair perked up, glaring into the brush. It began to growl, its tail wrapping around you and the boulder you sat upon, loosely…but protectively. “E-Éclair?” “Wow.” You nearly dropped the turkey leg you were holding, you recognized that voice. “So this is where the brave little princess of Auradon, the light of this entire country, Y/N sneaks off to?” a familiar head of purple appeared out of the emerald brush, a smirk upon her lips, and her hands upon her lips. She glanced over to the dragon, quirking an eyebrow but definitely not afraid of the thing whatsoever. She jerked her thumb at Éclair, “Friend of yours?” You clear your throat, tossing the leg over to Éclair who snapped it up. Its beady sunny yellow eyes were still trained upon Mal, snarling every now and then. You put your things to the side, sliding of off the boulder, and dusting your hands on your skirt; you then clear your throat, holding you head up high, proudly. “Yes. This is my friend, Éclair. What are you doing here, Mal? Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Ha!” Mal scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Hey, if you,” she pointed at you accusingly, “Can skip class, why can’t I?”

“Because education is important.” You retort back, turning on your heels to face Éclair instead.

“Gee. If it’s so important, why the hell aren’t you studying?” Mal didn’t try to come closer, especially when Éclair wound its tail around your position so protectively. “Miss Princess? Get off your high horse, Y/N. Don’t boss me around.”

“I could if I wanted to. As the princess of this land. And,” you turn around sharply, now reaching up to gently pat Éclair’s snout. “I’m the girl who has a dragon friend.”

“Oh right. I’m soooo scared. I’m quaking in my boots.” Mal scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Bitch please, I could poof your dragon friend here and you’d be all defenseless.” She quickly ducked under the swipe of a claw, courtesy of Éclair.

“Éclair! No!” You scolded your friend, patting its tail. “Don’t do that.”

“The thing is…you can’t kill me, or hurt me.” Mal taunted, dusting the imaginary dust off of her clothes. “You’re too soft.”

You glare at her, rolling up the sleeves of your jacket, and stepped over Éclair’s tail. “You wanna see how soft I am?” Éclair seemed to chuckle in the background, seemingly ready for such a throw down to occur.

“Hey hey, I’m not here to fight.” Mal said, holding up her hands to announce her surrender. “I could zap you with magic but I’d be executed if I tried to hurt you. So…how about this?” she backed away, and then drew a line in the dirt with her foot. “You stay on that side of the forest with your dragon friend, I’ll stay on mine.” She said with a smirk and a quirk of her eyebrow. “Deal, little princess?”

“Deal.” You huff, turning back to Éclair and marching back over to the dragon. You hop back up on the boulder again, tossing Éclair the remaining turkey legs before going to eat your own sandwich. Mal merely stayed on her side of the forest, watching you two carefully. She sat on a log, keeping to herself.

“How long have two known one another?” Mal asked suddenly, both of your heads snapping over to look at her. “You two are comfortable around each other, so it’s obvious you two have known each other for a long time.”

“Two years.” You answer, after swallowing a bite of your sandwich.

Gurglegurglegurgle

You glance up at Éclair, quirking an eyebrow and gently poking its dark snout. “Are you still hungry? I mean…yeah you do need to eat and all. You just came back from hunting right? I mean there’s still blood on your teeth and all. But-“ who else could it be? You glance over to Mal, who had a light pink blush upon her cheeks. “Are…are you hungry Mal?” you asked, snickering.

“A bit yeah. I left before lunch. I am kinda hungry.” Mal answered with a shrug of her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it princess, I’m not gonna mooch off of you or-“ “Do you want cookies?”

Mal’s head snapped over towards you, staring at you curiously. “Not…poisonous cookies?”

“Nah.” You answer, pulling the Tupperware of cookies out of your knapsack. “Mom made them.” You slid off of the boulder again, walking over to the line and held out the box. “You can have some…if you want.”

Mal got off of the log, slowly walking to the line and picked up at least five cookies. “Thanks.” She said, beginning to nibble on them. Her eyes lit up, staring at the cookies. “Whoa, these are good.”

“Yeah they are. I bet they’re the best in all the land.” You proudly say.

Mal only laughed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah yeah, whatever.” She says, turning on her heels and beginning to head back up the trail. “I’ll see you around, princess Y/N. Thanks for the cookies.” And before she took another step, she turned and said, “Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.”

The two of you had this strange dance, which was honestly kept alive for weeks. Mal and you would meet up in the forest with Éclair and still stay on the same sides you had made earlier. It was a strange little friendship, but you two got closer. Bit by bit. Little by little. You told Mal of your dream to travel and to learn more about the world, and you listened about the times Mal had caused a ruckus back on the Isle of the Lost. The two of you didn’t have many classes together but you two were sometimes find one another in the library.

Mal would find you in the darkest corners, hiding in a nook and reading about dragons. At first, she would just say ‘Hey’ and pass by, but lately she would sit beside you and you two would talk about the future and classes…and anything really.

Mal was cute, you could not help but think. She had a cute smile and it was endearing to see.

But lately…Mal had been avoiding you. She wasn’t coming into the forest that much to hang with you and Éclair, and even the dragon seemed to miss her presence. One day, while in the library, you noticed Mal walking by the shelves. Your feet were silent across the carpet, and you roughly grabbed Mal by the back of her jacket and pulled her into the comfy little nook you two often shared.

“GET THE FU- Y/N?” Mal stared at you in shock, quickly breaking away from you like you were the plague. “The hell was that for?!” “Why the shit are you avoiding me?” you demanded, hands on your hips. “As the princess, I demand you to answer this Mal. Is something bothering you? Did I….offend you?”

Mal opened her mouth for a minute and then shut it, staring down at her hands. “You kinda did offend me.”

“Shit what?! I did?! Holy shit, I’m so sorry! What did I do?! I’m so sorry, tell me what did I do and I promise not to do it again and-“

“You offend me because you’re too damn cute.”

“I- what…?” it was your turn to go silent, feeling your cheeks beginning to burn hotly. “Huh?” “I like you, princess.” Mal said, her voice small. She turned on her heels, ready to leave when you grabbed her by the back of her jacket again. “DAMN IT Y/N STOP TRYING TO CHO-“ you turn her around and slam your lips on to hers, causing Mal to go limp in your arms, before returning the gesture happily. Mal began to slowly push you into the wall, trapping you between them.

When the kiss ended, Mal happily smiled, resting her forehead against yours. “Wow.” “I wanted to do that for a while now.” You admit, giggling happily.

“Yeah…me too.” Mal admits, lips just an inch away from yours. “Can we…ki-“

“Y/N, are you- OH MY GOD!” Ben stared at the two of you, dropping his books and his mouth wide open like a gold fish.

“B-BEN! It’s not what it looks like!” “Yeah we’re kissing, what are you gonna do about it, pretty boy?”

“ASDFGHJKL, THIS IS WHY YOU WERE SNEAKING AROUND?!”

“WILL YOU KIDS SHUT UP, YOU’RE IN A LIBRARY!”

“….Sorry ma’am.”

[punk-reas]

I am a person who love a lot doing lists, things like: five of the best movies that you ever seen; five songs that would be your life soundtrack, and so on.

I recently stole the idea from Nick Hornby’s book and inspired movie High Fidelity, where the protagonist often tells to his friends a top five about something, then I’ve adopted this method because I believe that could help me to know better people I love meanwhile to have fun.

I have to say that on the top of my best five things of summer there’s surely ride a scooter, I don’t know if in other countries there’s a such strong cult for this transport as in Italy, to have one of them it’s the normal process of growing here, it’s the previous step before car, it’s really weird that an adolescent doesn’t have one, and honestly it’s the best way to move if you don’t live in a super organized city, scooter is better than car because you can avoid a lot of problems like queues or to find a parking area. In conclusion, to come back to the list, I put scooter to the first place because, at least in my opinion, it gives you a magic sensation, with the wind that goes under your t-shirt sleeves and they flutter, flashing through cars along the avenues illuminated by street lamps, or jerking slightly on cobblestones like you were in the movie Roman Holidays; or when you drive along narrow streets surrounded by fields with dry grass that takes golden shades, and it seems to be in a 50s movie about south Italy. Unlike car, to go by scooter you can feel a sense of freedom that flows over you, that invests you straight to the face.

The moment when I prefer use scooter it’s when I hang out at night, and go through narrows that lead to Piazzale Michelangelo with street lamps and trees, these last one hatch to leave the place to the landscape of the most beautiful florentine monuments and as our song says: “Florence is small/ And seen by the Piazzale/ It seems a little girl/ Dressed for carnival.”, and then going down the winding road that leads downtown.

All this is better with a song in background, and not a random song but a specific kind of song, that obviously it’s different for every person, but there are those melodies that perfectly match when you drive or when you are on a trip, and when I find a new one I add it to my playlist. The last one that I discovered to be a perfect “drive song” and I prove that last Saturday, it says more or less like this: “And tell me how it is, and tell me how it is/ I’ve never talked for hours/ Without thinking that I’m doing it/ And tell me what it is, and tell me what it is/ And tell me what it is/ The real life.”. -La vita veramente, Fulminacci

(I took these photos 31st March 2019 in Siena with Siria, Petra, Matteo and Antonio)

///

Sono una persona che ama molto le liste di cose, del tipo: i cinque migliori film che hai mai visto; le cinque canzoni che formerebbero la colonna sonora della tua vita, e così via.

Da poco ho rubato l’idea al libro e film ispirato ad Alta Fedeltà di Nick Hornby, dove il protagonista spesso lancia all’improvviso una top five ai suoi amici, ho adottato questo metodo perché credo che possa aiutarmi a conoscere le persone a cui voglio bene, oltre che ad essere divertente.

Devo dire che in cima alla mia top five delle cose preferite in estate ci sta sicuramente andare in motorino, non so se negli altri paesi si ha una cultura così forte per questo mezzo di trasporto come in Italia, qui da noi è la base averne uno, è lo step prima della macchina, è veramente strano che un adolescente non ne abbia uno, e onestamente se non si sta in una città super servita di mezzi è veramente il massimo da usare, molto meglio dell’auto perché ti evita un sacco di problemi come le code o i parcheggi. Insomma tornando alla lista, metto il motorino al primo posto perché, almeno per me, è proprio una sensazione magica viaggiarci sopra, con il vento che passa sotto le maniche della maglietta e te le fa svolazzare, sfrecciando tra le macchine lungo i viali illuminati dai lampioni, o sobbalzando leggermente sui sampetrini stile Vacanze Romane; oppure quando passi lungo le stradine immerse nei campi con l’erba secca che assume tinte dorate, e sembra proprio di essere in un film sul sud Italia negli anni ‘50. A differenza della macchina si sente proprio un senso di libertà che ti scorre addosso, investendoti in pieno.

Il momento in cui mi piace di più usarlo è quando esco la sera, e percorrere i viali che portano al Piazzale Michelangelo coi lampioni e gli alberi, che poi questi ultimi si schiudono per lasciare il posto al panorama dei monumenti fiorentini più belli e come dice una nostra canzone: “Firenze l’è piccina/ E vista dal Piazzale/ Le pare una bambina/ Vestita a carnevale.”, e poi discendere lungo la sinuosa strada che porta in centro.

Tutto questo è ancora più bello se in sottofondo ci metti una canzone, e non una canzone qualsiasi ma una giusta tipologia, che ovviamente varia da persona a persona, ma ci sono quelle melodie che proprio sanno di canzoni da ascoltare mentre si guida o mentre si viaggia, e a mano a mano che le scopro le aggiungo nella mia playlist. L’ultima che ho appurato essere una canzone “da guida” l’ho collaudata sabato scorso e fa più o meno così: “E dimmi com’è. e dimmi com’è/ Non sono mai stato a parlare per ore/ Senza pensare che lo sto facendo/ E dimmi cos’è, e dimmi cos’è/ E dimmi cos’è/ La vita veramente.” -La vita veramente, Fulminacci

(Foto scattate il 31 marzo 2019 in Siena con Siria, Petra, Matteo e Antonio)

[nerdofmanytalents]

Long Time No See!

So its been a while. XD

A lot has been going on. I’ll tuck all the crazy crappy stuff under a cut so if you’re interested in it all, click through (minding the tags of course), but first, please enjoy my children! In a nutshell, miss you all! Will be loading up the queue for a few days and will try to start making it on more often. 

[As a note, the TW tags do not apply to me directly!! I am fine! Just dealing with a lot with people I love.] 

My son will be turning 5 in November, and my daughter just had her first birthday in August. Con and Miri challenge me every day but they are worth every second and me and their dad adore them to pieces. They get along great and its so much fun.  LET ME SHOW YOU MY CUTE OFFSPRING.

If you’d rather not hear about the crappy stuff, here’s a closer for you and ingore the cut.  All in all, I am struggling, but things are seeming to balance out finally, and I have set some goals and want to do more things I enjoy and miss doing. I’m turning 30 on the 30th so isn’t that like a golden birthday or something? I have no idea. XD Anyway, feel free to say hi, I’ll love to hear from you! I intend to post some Arrow fic that I’ve put out in the past year so, keep an eye out for that. In the meantime, enjoy the queue. Its made up of drafts I’ve had sitting in there for ages. XD

Its also been a rough year. In January, my best friend of 15 years was diagnosed with a tumor on her brain stem. In March, it reacted violently to a biopsy and knocked out most of her physical motor functions. They gave her weeks, but she has hung on a long while; however, it’s anticipated she will pass soon since she is really slowing down.  I am really really struggling with losing her. She has been my writing buddy, my sounding board, my cheerleader, whenever I write, and in everything in my life since we started our friendship. She was the first person I told that I thought I could marry my now-husband, she was the first non-family visitor to meet my children in the hospital, and she has helped shape me into who I am today. The last few years she let me drag her into video games and it was so fun watching her get into Uncharted and Dragon Age for the first time. In the days leading up to her biopsy she was telling me about her latest Inquisitor she was coming up with for a new play through to set up some stories to write; she says that’s the hardest part in the lingering, she can’t do the things she loves to do, like writing, so I think someday I will write that for her. In the meantime, I am trying to come to terms with losing her, and accepting that according to the religion we both share, we will see each other again someday.

Last year, my youngest sister who is autistic and underage was lured by a trafficker to leave her home and was nearly abducted. By some incredible miracle, the person let her go and she was returned to her home, though unfortunately, it has caused a lot of struggles with her mental health that have affected and drained our whole family, especially myself as I am very close with her. The most frustrating part is that despite the fact that she was underage and there are documented conversations of this person grooming and threatening her, the county DA chose not to pursue it because it felt the case wasn’t strong enough because my sister had lied about her age, and because of this we have all been denied closure. We suspect that there could be more done but our hands are tied. Its been particularly rough the last few months, but she has started to really bounce back in the last few weeks, and we are hoping for continued improvement.

All of this tied on top of the regular day to day stress and untreated anxiety and probable postpartum depression/anxiety has led to a lot of hermiting as a way to cope, which unfortunately means I’ve missed out on doing a lot of things I enjoy.

All in all, I am struggling, but things are seeming to balance out finally, and I have set some goals and want to do more things I enjoy and miss doing. I’m turning 30 on the 30th so isn’t that like a golden birthday or something? I have no idea. XD Anyway, feel free to say hi, I’ll love to hear from you! I intend to post some Arrow fic that I’ve put out in the past year so, keep an eye out for that. In the meantime, enjoy the queue. Its made up of drafts I’ve had sitting in there for ages. XD

[sohannabarberaesque]

Over in Food Truck Alley (so to speak) at Winona Steamboat Days:

MAGILLA GORILLA, somewhat confused though stopping short of stupified: Uh, let me see--roasted sweet corn, roasted potatoes ...

[From behind]

BINGO, per The Banana Splits, waiting in the general queue: Uh, remember me?

[MAGILLA GORILLA turns around on cue of a tap of the shoulder]

MAGILLA GORILLA, somewhat surprised: BINGO--?!!

BINGO, surprised at the sight of an old acquaintenance after some while: MAGILLA--?!!

[The two simians hugging each other, to the sheer surprise of attendees in a nearby tent with picnic tables--as well as--]

YOGI BEAR, close by and taking bemused notice close to the Southern Smoke and Chrome BBQ trailer: Awww, isn't that wonderful ... Magilla Gorilla and Bingo, just as surprised to know they might actually be close relatives....

BOO-BOO, sipping on a fresh-squeezed limeade not far behind: I'd be surprised as well, Yogi. [Pause] Or, for that matter, maybe not.

YOGI BEAR: After all, Boo-Boo, we're just spending some time here at a wonderful summer festival such as Steamboat Days is--

[Somehow equally surprised to notice the Hair Bear Bunch, with baskets of grilled turkey wraps]

SQUARE BEAR, as confused as ever: Wasn't that a surprise there, Bingo and Magilla hugging each other!!

HAIR BEAR: Isn't friendship wonderful? [Whereupon the ursine trio makes a confused double-take at the presence of YOGI BEAR in the vicinity]

YOGI BEAR: Am I perhaps the only bear not to be stunned by the presence of fellow cartoonish ursine types?

HAIR BEAR, with a little snark in the delivery: Hardly. [Presently:] YOGI!! BOO-BOO!!!

BUBI BEAR: And ain't it half the wonderful sort of the clyde, ain't it amazing to see such a hero like Yogi Bear? COME ON, EVERYBODY, Yogi is in da house!!

[The crowd just couldn't resist the very sight and presence, yet meanwhile, over by another barbecue stand known to sell poutine ...]

LOOPY DeLOOP, taking a poutine basket and a Pepsi, not to mention trying to find a seat: I just have to acknowledge that Quebecoise soul food is getting some respect at last--poutine, tourtiere, Whippet cakes....

HUCKLEBERRY HOUND, no less than: My my my, Loopy DeLoop himself!

LOOPY DeLOOP, surprised at the sight: Ain't it Huckleberry Hound!

HUCKLEBERRY HOUND: However did you guess?

LOOPY DeLOOP: 'Tis obvious. Huck, have you ever heard of poutine?

HUCKLEBERRY HOUND: I think I vaguely remember having some at the Minnesota State Fair a couple years back.

LOOPY DeLOOP: Which, I will have you know, is what I am having. To connect with my inner Quebecoise self, you might say.

HUCKLEBERRY HOUND: You don't say ... I think maybe I'll get me a mess of that, uh--

LOOPY DeLOOP: You mean poutine?

HUCKLEBERRY HOUND: Yes, I mean poutine!

LOOPY DeLOOP, taking stock of the situation as he seats himself: Loopy, I says to myself, what would exactly preclude your being an ambassador of poutine, or even tourtiere, in the way Wally Gator is for the Everglades ... or Crazy Claws is for Wisconsin Dells?

[Close by at a battered cheese curds stand--]

SANDY, leading DINKY DOG on a walkaround: Wouldn't some batter-fried cheese curds be wonderful for supper?

MONICA, somewhat bemused: Interesting idea, but--to actually find such in not just plain, but also Garlic, Cajun and Jalapeno ... it'd be pretty hard trying to figure out which ones to have next--

SANDY: But on the other hand, I can assume Dinky can handle any leftovers, can you?!!

BABALOOIE, close by: I kinda like those gals and their dog ... yet to imagine jalapeno cheese curds is a little crazy, even for my buddy Queekstraw!

QUICK DRAW McGRAW, perked up by the remarks of his compadre: But then again, how about seriously trying out those cheese curds at any rate?

[Returning to the Southern Smoke & Chrome wagon for the nonce--]

GROOVE, per the Cattanooga Cats: Barbecued pulled pork, I just cannot resist!!

SCOOTS, also per the Cattanooga Cats: Wavy chitlins ... can you imagine a smoked turkey barbecue wrap?

[At any rate, such is the attraction of the Cattanooga Cats to barbecue that plenty of visitor photos, selfies--and autographs--ensue over barbecue of the highest order. Meanwhile--]

SNAGGLEPUSS, none other than, walking towards the carnival area: Heavens to Mark Twain ... and didn't those Cattanooga Cats sing once about "cotton candy and a ferris wheel,/A country carnival is what I feel"?!! Ahhhh yes, to be in a people-watching mode this evening, even if the crowds seem rather thin for the most part, but sure to improve over time ... and ahhh yes, there's no doubt much of our funtastic selves will be out and about! Pardon me while I get a rather substantial lemonade, fresh-squeezed even ...

[it-will-not-last-the-night]

Mutual Victory

For @ryuannweek

Prompt: Food Date

Synopsis: Love might be a battlefield but, at times, it can occur that both sides claim victory. Ann and Ryuji themselves experienced such a mutual victory one quiet day at a park.

(Tis late but I wanted to write it anyway!)

“Late!” Ann delivered her condemnation from a park bench, lips pursed in a precocious pout, as Ryuji finally returned. Around them people milled, birds flew, water flowed, and other scenic park things happened. Ryuji hung his head, a rather heavy looking plastic bag gripped in one hand, as his girlfriend staunchly turned her face away from him.

“Twenty minutes late I’ll add!” She even did a little turn up of her nose at that comment. “Relax, I didn’t mean it to, things took longer than I thought, you can cut me a little slack,” grumbling and complaining was not a feature of their relationship that had vanished once the two took the plunge from platonic to romantic. Ryuji settled down next to her on the bench, hand going down into the bag, digging around for something, as Ann finally deigned to turn her face to him. But now she had her arms folded, an indication that her complaint actually wasn’t all just in good sport, but honestly something that aggrieved her.

“Cut you some? You’re the one who invited me out! Said we’d have a nice romantic lunch! Now you’ve gone and bought some convenience store lunches, haven’t you? What, forget to make a reservation again? Seriously Ryuji, I love you, but you gotta think ahead-” Ann’s tirade, which was in all honesty not undeserved, cut short when her boyfriend finally pulled his hand out, presenting to her a package she knew very well;

“Ta-da! Had to queue like crazy to get it, like, there were girls freaking fighting over this thing! It was savage! But I made sure to get in there early, stuck it out, my girl deserves nothing but the best, I said, so it didn’t even matter that it was, like, a whole month’s worth of a salary for just one crepe and…uh…Ann?” She’d already snatched the offered pastry from him, unwrapping and biting into it as she emitted a squeal of delight.

“Ahhh~ it’s delicious~” although Ann would object, strenuously, to ever being called fickle in things that mattered; fickle in love, in war or with her loyalties, one area she’d make a noticeable exception were sugary delights. As if it’d hadn’t even been there to begin with her earlier foul mood had already melted away completely.

“Hehe, I thought you’d like it,” he was busy pulling out a second one, for himself, when Ann cocked her head to the side, peering somewhat quizzically; “But these are so new? This place opened like a week ago, how’d you know about it?” Ryuji wasn’t exactly an expert on…well, many things, but for this particular conversation’s relevance he wasn’t an expert on desserts or trends within Tokyo, making Ann’s confusion more than a little understandable.

“Uuuuhhhhhhhh…” a long drawn out stammer didn’t exactly instil confidence; “I…read up on it..f-for you!” Ann’s eyes narrowed to a point, although at no point did, she stop stuffing more crepe into her face, cheeks puffed out in a distractingly adorable manner to Ryuji; “Y-yeah, that’s what it was! I thought to myself, I said to myself, I gotta make this a special date for Ann, right? F-for you! So…you love sweets and…so I read up on…um…what was popular and stuff and found this!” Ryuji was sweating metaphorical bullets as he lied, and lied badly, through his teeth, eyes wavering, looking for some glimmer that Ann was buying his spiel. 

“Hmmmmmmm…” he gulped, reflexively, watching a Ann slowly stuffed the last piece of the crepe past her glossy lips, savouring it even as she seemed to be considering her next words.

“Oh Ryuji! That’s so sweet! You did that for me?” Ann’s face broke out into a warm smile and she leaned forwards, one hand brushing up on to his leg, sending a pulse up his spine. “Uh, y-yeah, of course babe,”

“Well then you deserve a reward~” the intonation of the words alone had Ryuji breathing heavily but what came next left him breathless. Ann leaned up in a swift, fluid, motion, pressing her lips against Ryuj’s. For him the entire world briefly dissolved into that moment, eyes wide and yet seeing nothing as he sank into the strangely warm sensation of Ann’s kiss. 

Although the kiss only lasted scant seconds Ryuji could not have told you this. For him that kiss dragged on for an indeterminate time and, even once Ann had pulled back, an almost bashful smile on her faces, shoulders drawn together, for Ryuji the event seemed to linger on well past the actual instance. 

And that was when Ann revealed her hand, holding the second crepe, pilfered from Ryuji during the kiss.

“H-hey!” She stuck her tongue out playfully, taking a bite out of it; “All’s fair in love and war!” She giggled, sidling closer to him now, her slight shoulder pressing against his own as she leaned up against him. The girl radiated self-satisfaction, like a cat proudly toying with its food, Ann exalted in her victory. For Ryuji it was hard to feel as if he’d been cheated or robbed though, in all honesty if he had to trade every crepe, he ever bought away but, in return, received a kiss from Ann…he’d well call that a victory for himself. 

“So…how did you really find out about the place?” Ann asked eventually, sliding one arm around his and pulling his hand into her lap, idly toying with his fingers. 

“Shiho,” he answered quite bluntly, having already achieved his goal for the day.

“Ah,” Ann said, eventually, as if that explained everything since, honestly, Shiho masterminding every step of Ryuji’s courtship did make a lot more sense than it probably should have.

“You know…if you want…we can share…” Ryuji almost didn’t believe the words coming out Ann’s mouth, the blonde girl shyly looking away even as she offered a half-eaten crepe. Coming from Ann this gesture was several magnitudes more romantic than a mere kiss.

“S-sure-” “But you only get the last bite, the rest is mine!”