#post brought to u by me watching the godfather

[annebonnydyke]

one thing about me is i can excuse basically any crime if you serve enough cunt. murder, piracy, arson, cannibalism, theft, all of that is ok for me if you’re real sexy about it. i have a purely vibes-based morality system

[melis-writes]

Why you don’t like Apollonia? (I get this vibe from u, but correct me if I’m wrong)

You're 100% correct about the vibes. 🤣🤣 I don't like Apollonia at all, whatsoever and it's because the Godfather fandom completely ruined her character for me. 🥰

It's not just the new Godfather enjoyers, like gen z or millennials but also the boomers. Apollonia is sadly a vessel for misogyny in the Godfather from Apollonia stans alone. I can't look past it even if I tried; I get Apollonia stans commenting nasty shit on my gifsets of Kay (that's how annoying + bothered they are) and trying to start discourse over any post that highlights a miniscule positive thing about Kay Adams.

It's disgusting to see how Apollonia is glorified for being the quiet, submissive and obedient housewife. She's what Michael "needs" and is the "perfect wife" and the ones that put Apollonia on a pedestal like this are misogynists, vehemently sprout the nastiest shit about Kay and women like Kay that you'll ever hear, talk about how Apollonia could have "changed" and "fixed" Michael (dude is beyond redemption and is almost a sociopath) and could have birthed him "lots of babies". Literally, that's all Apollonia is "known" for and loved for, it's pathetically sad. The bar really is in hell.

So while Apollonia is praised for all of these hypothetical scenarios, Kay and women like Kay are shit on, ridiculed and picked apart to pieces. It's disgusting and whether it's a boomer enjoyer or someone my age, they'll be saying the exact same shit like it's scripted or clockwork or something about Apollonia every single time.

Apollonia's young age is also glorified even though she's a minor/child, and don't even get me started on the scene of her undressing in front of Michael--I know it's a little off topic and more about Simonetta as an actress but the fact that there's grown ass men fawning over a minor's breasts makes me want to actually vomit.

Putting aside the misogynistic culture some Godfather fans have placed upon Apollonia here, I don't like the character itself. To me, it's obvious she was a filler, empty character Mario Puzo wrote and used to develop Michael's character development because she's literally never mentioned again unless you want to count Michael confessing to Kay he "slept with someone" in the book while he was abroad.

Apollonia was never in love with Michael and Michael wasn't in love with her. Apollonia's father got giddy at the idea of his daughter's beauty bringing in a rich, powerful and influential man who was the son of a Vito Corleone. Nobody cared what else Michael had to offer the Vitelli family besides reputation, wealth and physical protection. Nothing even mentions if anyone cared how Michael would treat Apollonia but oh boy, Michael showed it well. He literally refused to let her leave home for a week and all he did was have sex with her over and over again. And every single time, Apollonia would just get up, shower, fuck off and do something and Michael would just lay there. She would just do whatever he wanted and yet somehow, the Godfather fandom is screaming "true love" and "soulmate" when it's literally just Michael being horny. I need y'all to understand this man was thinking with his dick only.

I don't care who likes/stans Apollonia, all I want is for people to be respectful about the whole Apollonia and Kay thing. If Apollonia's as amazing as some people claim, then I'd sure hope she can brought up without the mention of Michael being in a relationship with her and without dissing Kay in the same sentence (IMPOSSIBLE CHALLENGE EDITION).

Apollonia and the whole Sicily arc is so far gone and damaged to me that I just skip that scene when watching the movie and pretend it didn't happen because of all the bullshit that went out in the fandom and is still ongoing today. 😐

[juliaswickcrs]

can u tell me a few fun facts about allison (and/or her creation)? she’s a really intriguing character!

Of course!! And thank you so much! She's one of my fave ocs so it means a lot to me that people still like her!

SPOILERS BELOW!

So I believe I said this at one point, but Allison was never meant to be a full fledged OC. She was just someone I had in my mind while talking to Keke.

Basically, I had seen a Tik Tok where someone was discussing Harry Potter and brought up the idea that "If Harry was a girl that looked like Lily, Snape would've treated her completely differently than in canon." And as an avid Snape hater, I absolutely agreed, and told Keke in my own words, "I think if I created a Harry Potter Sister!OC it would be to just dunk on Snape the entire time" and so Allison was born.

I had no intention of publishing her until Keke enabled me (love you babe) and she eventually grew into someone beyond the initial post that inspired her.

I wanted to play with the idea of growing up as a ghost of someone you never knew and when it came to her plot, I knew I wanted Allison to be someone who existed mainly in the background, someone who was talented at magic but didn't need to brag about it. And then there's the Tom Riddle of it all.

As Allison's story evolved, I decided that while Snape would remain an antagonistic force in her story, I wanted Tom Riddle to be her villain. Harry faced off against Voldemort, but Allison faced off against Tom Riddle, the man behind the monster. So that's where the idea of the diary came in, and when you're twelve you feel everything so deeply that it truly is like pouring your soul into whatever you do. And that's where the plot thread of "Hey what if Tom's soul, in a last ditch effort to create another horcrux, latched itself onto Allison's because of the connection they shared?"

Which eventually led to the central theme of Allison's story, which is that her life has been dictated by the men around her. She's been used, abused, manipulated, and coerced by every older man she's ever come into contact with, and so much of her life has been defined by them. And so her arc is about coming into her own as a woman, as herself, as a witch in her own right. Taking what her abusers left her and making it new again in a way that benefits her and makes the world better. And it also allows me to play with aspects of HP that I don't necessarily agree with, like how mental health and trauma is handled and how the magic system actually works.

Some fun facts (cause let's be honest this was kind of not fun and rather angsty haha):

She was born on August 1st, thirty minutes after Harry

When she was often forgotten by Aunt Petunia as a child, she would walk to a dance center and watch ballet classes, trying to teach herself.

Her hair is slightly more vibrant than Lily's but darker than Ginny's

Once she's out of her trauma shell, Allison is a literal wizard with pranks. Like good luck getting out of one she plays on you.

She is amazingly proficient at Wandless magic, more than most wizards her age.

She was named after Alice Longbottom, who is her godmother. Remus Lupin is her godfather.

She has a very complicated relationship with her mother and her Aunt Petunia.

She spends most of her summers at Dean Thomas's house after the events of fourth year.

Her love interest is Blaise Zabini cause I love and adore him

She's a Gryffindor

[5lazarus]

Weavers

this was meant to be severitus, or at least Snape-mentors-Harry, so let’s call this the precursor to it

Summary: Bored before the start of sixth year, Harry goes through Petunia's old family photo albums. He demands some answers, and Dumbledore sends Snape. Read on AO3 here

The days are hot and dusty and Harry is left roving the same suburban streets, bored as hell, as the Dursleys pretend nothing is wrong and everyone he knows acts the same. Voldemort’s back, and he wants to kill him. His godfather’s dead. No one wants to talk about Cedric, and he doesn’t even know how to talk about Cedric, even if anybody knew to ask. Harry just walks, and kicks at fluttery bits of newspaper littering the ground, and tries not to let the heat sour his mood. When Aunt Petunia’s busy at the neighbor’s garden parties, Harry steals into the living room and starts going through the photo albums. Why, he’s not so sure, he just wants to know, to see, to remember that there was a past before Hogwarts, and so he flips through grotesque faded photos of Dudley and Uncle Vernon eating cake with him a shadow cut in half, just barely in view. These were not happy days, but Harry’s not sure he’s ever had any of those. It was fun laughing with Sirius and Ron and Hermione and the Twins sometimes, and he feels free and devoid of all this heavy thoughts on a broom. He finishes one photo album, slots it back in the shelf, and pulls out another. This one is older--before he was born. Maybe he’ll find a photo of his mother in it. He flips through time, ignoring a wedding photo--after his grandparents’ deaths--and polaroids of truly soul-crushing dates. He laughs at the bad hair, though he knows he of all people shouldn’t point fingers. Finally, he reaches his aunt’s teenage years, and he hopes he’ll find his mother there. It’s a weird thought, that his mother was barely more than a teenager when she was killed. She was only twenty when she had him. He’s almost sixteen now. He can’t imagine that, the pressure of having a baby with a target on its back in the middle of a war, and he wishes desperately  he could know what she was like. Sirius didn’t like to talk about her, and Lupin talks in circles about everything. He wishes there was someone he could ask. He finds a photo of her laughing with a boy who is not his father, who’s got his long black hair and a hand thrown up, too, covering his face. She’s about his age in this photo, or a bit older. Carefully he slides it out of the plastic. There’s writing on the back: “Weavers, Sev & Lily, 1976. to Baba O’Riley and the rest of our lives!!” The writing is familiar, spidery, almost indecipherable, and he squints because it reminds him of someone, it’s strangely familiar, and then he drops the photo in shock. Because he knows: that’s Severus Snape.

Rapidly now he flips through the pages. There’s one of his bright-eyed mother with a sullen-looking boy with a big nose and greasy hair, glowering at the camera as she laughs. There’s even one of her and Petunia and him all together, sitting in someone’s garden, and Snape is wearing too-big jeans and a stained t-shirt, staring solemnly at the camera. Now that he’s seen it he can’t unsee it. Aunt Petunia comes clattering in, throwing her keys onto the coffee table, and stops sharply at the sight of him with the photos all around him. “Put those back!” she shrieks. “You knew Snape?” he shrieks back. Petunia rears back, apopletic. “You know Snape?” “Yeah, I know Snape,” Harry yells back. “He’s my Potions professor, that greasy git. How do you know Snape?” Petunia sinks onto the couch. “That--awful boy,” she says falteringly. “A teacher? At your school?” She puts her hand over her mouth. “He hated it there, he’s went back to teach?” Harry says, “Yeah. We hate him too.” Petunia begins to laugh. “Bastard,” she says, chortling, “serves him right. I always thought he’d end up teaching chemistry, or in prison. I suppose your Headmaster made him one of those offers you can’t refuse, like he did with me. I never wanted you, I hope you know.” “Believe me,” Harry says wearily, “I picked up on that early on, thanks.” Aunt Petunia yells at him for nosing into her family’s business and Harry heroically resists the urge to inform her that it’s his family too, and instead keeps the photos of his mother stealthily hidden in his pocket. When she’s done, he rushes to his room, pulls out a piece of parchment and a quill, and writes a simple sentence: “Snape knew my mom?” He sends it off to Dumbledore. This complicates the whole Prophecy bullshit he told him about, and he wants answers. Hedwig knows how to charm them out of people, too. She won’t peck the Headmaster, but she sure will be cute. Sure enough, two hours later--or however long it takes for an owl to fly from Surrey to an unknown part of rural Scotland--the doorbell rings. Harry rushes downstairs and throws open the door. He falters. It’s not Dumbledore. “Mr. Potter,” Snape sneers. He’s wearing muggle clothes, black jeans that actually fit him, a band t-shirt, and a blazer with its sleeves rolled up. Harry blinks. Snape likes the Clash? Snape likes things? “I have been told to take you on a walk.” Harry says, “Uh. Do you have that in writing?” Snape’s a Death Eater, after all. He doesn’t want to die. Snape grabs his shoulder and pulls him out of the house. He closes the door. Harry yelps. “Rest assured while I have no interest in ending your idiocy as of yet,” Snape hisses. “Now, to walk. This way.” Sharply he turns, and Harry runs to catch up. “You wrote the Headmaster.” “You knew my mom!” Harry says. He pulls out the photos from pocket and fans them out like a hand of cards. “For your whole childhood! And my age, too!” “Obviously,” Snape sneers. He snatches the photos from him and scrutinizes each snapshot. His scowl deepens. In Potions class, this would be a sign to get out of blast range. Unfortunately, the only thing around to hide behind is a street lamp and a hedge, and Harry’s pretty sure Snape can get around that. Snape snorts when he gets the Weaver photo. “Your aunt kept these? She hated your mother--and me.” It’s on the tip of his tongue to say, “Well, you’re not very likeable. Sir.” With truly heroic, Gryffindor-standard effort, Harry restrains himself. He shrugs instead. He wants information. He’ll have to tap into whatever Slytherin qualities the Sorting Hat identified in him to get it. Snape says finally, “I grew up across the river from your mother. She was my friend. Then we went our separate ways.” “Well, you called her a Mudblood,” Harry says. “I mean, of course she’d stop talking to you.” “Do not say that word,” Snape hisses. Harry mentally kicks himself. He shouldn’t have brought up the Pensieve incident--except, ravenously, he wants to know everything about the Pensieve incident. Dumbledore sent him there, to answer his questions. He’s got nothing to lose by asking. Snape’s gonna lose his shit anyway. “Yeah, sorry,” Harry says, annoyed. He stops under a lamp post. Dusk is coming on thick, and even on Privet Drive, it’s turning to a pretty night. Snape crosses his arms and looks at him sardonically. He is sneering, preparing to spit his usual venom, but Harry persists, “How’d all that even happen? I mean, clearly my dad was a bit of a prick--I don’t know what she saw in him--” “Potter,” Snape says. “Shut up.” Harry holds his hands up. “Fine. We won’t talk about it. But you and my mother were friends. No one tells me anything about her. It’s like she had nobody but--you, I guess, and my dad. They just say I have her eyes. It’s almost my birthday, uh, Professor.” He adds the title and the respect a little thick. Snape is unamused. “Aunt Petunia just says she was a showoff. What was she really like?” Snape says, “Your aunt’s right, she was a showoff. But she was barely more than a child when she was killed. She never got the time to grow out of it. Dumbledore sent me, Potter. I’m supposed to bring you to the Weasleys. But I am not dealing with your aunt’s histrionics. Bring your things and meet me the block over. I’m parked over there.” He points at the rather nondescript gray car. “I’ll answer your questions on the drive over. You will not mention this to anyone, particularly your little friends.” It sounds sketchy, but Harry’s willing to do it just for the rumors that will circulate around the neighborhood as they see him sneaking into a strange man’s car with a wooden trunk and a bird cage. Harry darts back home and drags his things down the street and piles them into Snape’s car. Funny thought, that--that Snape has a car, and a driver’s license. He goes in for the back first, to sit with Hedwig, but Snape snaps, “I am not your chauffeur!” so he returns to the front seat. He eyes him warily as he steps in. Snape does not look at him, but sorts through a pile of CDs. “You do a lot of driving?” Harry asks disbelievingly. Snape’s nostril twitch in reply. He pulls out a battered case--The Who. He puts it in, starts the car, and there they go, driving away from Privet Drive. This is not the most surreal thing that has ever happened to Harry. He’s watched a baby hatch into a man out of a cauldron before, and listened to the whispers of the dead, and ridden on an invisible horse, as well as a broom. But Snape is serene, tapping his long, skinny fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music. Harry sneezes. The car stinks of weed. “Are you high?” Harry asks. Snape says, “To deal with you during my time off--there is no other way.” He looks at him suddenly. “Get the map. I haven’t driven through Devonshire in years. When does the road merge?” Harry shuffles through the hatbox of the car, shoving aside a pair of leather gloves, a pack of cigarettes, and a spare wand. He pulls out the map and looks at it despairingly. “What, Potter? Can’t read a map?” Harry says, “Uh. Think we drove past it. Sir.” Snape curses and does a U-town, flipping off the cars that beep in their wake. Harry is beginning to get a little scared. Snape hates him, that’s obvious, and sometimes he thinks he wants to kill him. He really doesn’t want to die in a car crash, he can just imagine the headlines. Eventually Snape gets them on their way, nasty and irritated. They detangle the suburban streets and drive into the night, getting out of the suburban tarmac into the muddy rural. When Harry tries to ask a question, Snape turns up the music. They listen to “Baba O’Riley” three times. Harry stays silent the whole time, afraid. His mother wrote this on the back of the photograph, after all, maybe there’s a subliminal message here. She wanted to go. Harry wonders, but where to? The end of Avada, a flash of green light. Maybe a car crash would have been better, more glamorous, like Princess Diana. What would she have even thought of that? Harry musters up the courage. He says, “She wrote about this on the back of one of the photographs. 1976, weavers.” He puts it on the dashboard, and Snape, keeping one hand on the wheel, picks it up and glances at it. His expression, already sour, curdles. “What does that mean?” “Tuney doesn’t talk about her childhood much, does she?” Snape remarks. He faces the road and misses the exit they were supposed to turn onto. Harry puts his hand into his other pocket and surreptitiously takes ahold of his wand. Snape’s probably not trying to kill him, but as Moody--well, fake-Moody says, “Constant vigilance!” He keeps his mouth shut. Snape’s always been garrulous, using ten words when three would suffice, and cramming as many syllables into them as he can. Hermione once despaired that lectures with him were like a speech class. It was all about the enunciation. Finally, Snape says, “We grew up in a textile town. Most of the men worked at the factory, until it closed. They were the weavers, and we were too, if it weren’t for magic.” “You’re not muggleborn!” Harry says, alarmed. “How--” “No,” Snape says. “I am not answering any questions about myself, Potter.” He veers sharply on the road, finally getting them back on track. By Harry’s reckoning, they’ve got about a half hour left. He sinks in his seat, sullen. “So what about my mum?” he asks. “Did she like--weaving? Growing up in the town? What was she like?” Snape says, “No, no, and--young, because she was young. Headstrong. Sarcastic. She didn’t suffer fools, until she did.” Harry says, “My father wasn’t a fool!” “Your father used to run around school grounds with a fully transformed werewolf.” Harry has to say, maybe his father was a bit of a fool, after all. He does not, though, have to say all that aloud. He says, “Sarcastic?” Snape says, “I think much of her wit went above her Housemates’ heads. They always said she was kind. That was not my experience. She was extraordinarily righteous, and outspoken, and strict with herself and everyone around her. To the point where one wondered how anyone could measure up to Saint Lily’s grandiose proclamations.” The CD ends, finally, and Snape clicks a button. He seems amused. “Lupin didn’t like her much, and she didn’t like Sirius. I am not surprised they avoid talking about her.” Eyes on the road, he goes through the electronic piles by touch, and pulls out a tape. He sticks it in. Harry blinks. It’s the Velvet Underground now, “All Tomorrow’s Parties.” “What costume shall the poor girl wear,” the car radio warbles, “to all tomorrow’s parties?” Harry says, “They said she was kind.” “Perhaps she was to them. She was always demanding of me, and I do not call that kind.” “You called her a Mudblood.” Snape says wearily, “And no one has ever let me forget it, twenty-one long years later. Righteous, and demanding, and strict--but never kind.” “Yeah, well, you joined the Death Eaters, too.” Snape laughs suddenly, sharply, bitterly. “Much worse than calling someone a slur. And I have spent the rest of my life repenting of it.” They’re in Devon now, getting close to the end. Harry’s gotten used to the smell and he’s enjoying the music now, even though he thinks it’s a little sad. He wonders if Snape is thinking about himself, or his mother, and if his mother would’ve liked this song. It’s the first time he’s ever heard someone talk about her like a person, not a saint, and he wants more. He wants to see her be mean--meaner, he guesses, than what he saw in the Pensieve. He wants to see her being too hard on herself and snapping back for justice, whatever she thought justice was. But she’s dead, and he’s only six years younger than she was when she died. That’s an insane thought. In six years, if Voldemort doesn’t kill him, he’ll be the same age as his mother when she died. Maybe he’ll be even older. He looks at Snape, who is meditative, hands relaxed on the steering wheel. Snape’s watching the road. He looks not-old for once, not angry or sour or raging. He just looks like a guy approaching middle-age, who’s tired, who’s thinking about the past. Harry thinks, he’s not really ugly when he lets his face be. Maybe he’s thinking not-ugly thoughts. Melancholy makes a person look human. Snape doesn’t seem like a Potions professor in this car--just sad. They pull through the town of Ottery St. Catchpole and Snape stops at a park. He looks at Harry directly and says, “Your mother...she was more than her eyes. She was an extraordinarily vibrant  young woman, who died too young, who had plans for herself and everyone around her. You’re nothing like her. No one is. There was only ever one Lily Evans, and we wouldn’t want anymore.” Harry gets out of the car and clambers to the boot of the car, getting his trunk and rattling Hedwig’s cage as he goes. She squawks at him, outraged, and he smiles at her affronted dignity. He’d thank Snape for telling him all this, but he doesn’t think he deserves it, because he only did it on Dumbledore’s orders. He gestures with the cage that he’s heading to the Burrow now. “Uh, bye then,” Harry says. He doesn’t necessarily want to wish him a safe trip. He gets five paces before Snape stops him. “Potter!” Harry turns back. Snape is standing in front of the car, illuminated in the headlights. His wand is up. Harry drops Hedwig’s cage, going for his own, but Snape is faster. “Obliviate!”The days are hot and dusty and Harry is left roving the same suburban streets, bored as hell, as the Dursleys pretend nothing is wrong and everyone he knows acts the same. Voldemort’s back, and he wants to kill him. His godfather’s dead. No one wants to talk about Cedric, and he doesn’t even know how to talk about Cedric, even if anybody knew to ask. Harry just walks, and kicks at fluttery bits of newspaper littering the ground, and tries not to let the heat sour his mood. When Aunt Petunia’s busy at the neighbor’s garden parties, Harry steals into the living room and starts going through the photo albums. Why, he’s not so sure, he just wants to know, to see, to remember that there was a past before Hogwarts, and so he flips through grotesque faded photos of Dudley and Uncle Vernon eating cake with him a shadow cut in half, just barely in view. These were not happy days, but Harry’s not sure he’s ever had any of those. It was fun laughing with Sirius and Ron and Hermione and the Twins sometimes, and he feels free and devoid of all this heavy thoughts on a broom. He finishes one photo album, slots it back in the shelf, and pulls out another. This one is older--before he was born. Maybe he’ll find a photo of his mother in it. He flips through time, ignoring a wedding photo--after his grandparents’ deaths--and polaroids of truly soul-crushing dates. He laughs at the bad hair, though he knows he of all people shouldn’t point fingers. Finally, he reaches his aunt’s teenage years, and he hopes he’ll find his mother there. It’s a weird thought, that his mother was barely more than a teenager when she was killed. She was only twenty when she had him. He’s almost sixteen now. He can’t imagine that, the pressure of having a baby with a target on its back in the middle of a war, and he wishes desperately  he could know what she was like. Sirius didn’t like to talk about her, and Lupin talks in circles about everything. He wishes there was someone he could ask. He finds a photo of her laughing with a boy who is not his father, who’s got his long black hair and a hand thrown up, too, covering his face. She’s about his age in this photo, or a bit older. Carefully he slides it out of the plastic. There’s writing on the back: “Weavers, Sev & Lily, 1976. to Baba O’Riley and the rest of our lives!!” The writing is familiar, spidery, almost indecipherable, and he squints because it reminds him of someone, it’s strangely familiar, and then he drops the photo in shock. Because he knows: that’s Severus Snape. Rapidly now he flips through the pages. There’s one of his bright-eyed mother with a sullen-looking boy with a big nose and greasy hair, glowering at the camera as she laughs. There’s even one of her and Petunia and him all together, sitting in someone’s garden, and Snape is wearing too-big jeans and a stained t-shirt, staring solemnly at the camera. Now that he’s seen it he can’t unsee it. Aunt Petunia comes clattering in, throwing her keys onto the coffee table, and stops sharply at the sight of him with the photos all around him. “Put those back!” she shrieks. “You knew Snape?” he shrieks back. Petunia rears back, apopletic. “You know Snape?” “Yeah, I know Snape,” Harry yells back. “He’s my Potions professor, that greasy git. How do you know Snape?” Petunia sinks onto the couch. “That--awful boy,” she says falteringly. “A teacher? At your school?” She puts her hand over her mouth. “He hated it there, he’s went back to teach?” Harry says, “Yeah. We hate him too.” Petunia begins to laugh. “Bastard,” she says, chortling, “serves him right. I always thought he’d end up teaching chemistry, or in prison. I suppose your Headmaster made him one of those offers you can’t refuse, like he did with me. I never wanted you, I hope you know.” “Believe me,” Harry says wearily, “I picked up on that early on, thanks.” Aunt Petunia yells at him for nosing into her family’s business and Harry heroically resists the urge to inform her that it’s his family too, and instead keeps the photos of his mother stealthily hidden in his pocket. When she’s done, he rushes to his room, pulls out a piece of parchment and a quill, and writes a simple sentence: “Snape knew my mom?” He sends it off to Dumbledore. This complicates the whole Prophecy bullshit he told him about, and he wants answers. Hedwig knows how to charm them out of people, too. She won’t peck the Headmaster, but she sure will be cute. Sure enough, two hours later--or however long it takes for an owl to fly from Surrey to an unknown part of rural Scotland--the doorbell rings. Harry rushes downstairs and throws open the door. He falters. It’s not Dumbledore. “Mr. Potter,” Snape sneers. He’s wearing muggle clothes, black jeans that actually fit him, a band t-shirt, and a blazer with its sleeves rolled up. Harry blinks. Snape likes the Clash? Snape likes things? “I have been told to take you on a walk.” Harry says, “Uh. Do you have that in writing?” Snape’s a Death Eater, after all. He doesn’t want to die. Snape grabs his shoulder and pulls him out of the house. He closes the door. Harry yelps. “Rest assured while I have no interest in ending your idiocy as of yet,” Snape hisses. “Now, to walk. This way.” Sharply he turns, and Harry runs to catch up. “You wrote the Headmaster.” “You knew my mom!” Harry says. He pulls out the photos from pocket and fans them out like a hand of cards. “For your whole childhood! And my age, too!” “Obviously,” Snape sneers. He snatches the photos from him and scrutinizes each snapshot. His scowl deepens. In Potions class, this would be a sign to get out of blast range. Unfortunately, the only thing around to hide behind is a street lamp and a hedge, and Harry’s pretty sure Snape can get around that. Snape snorts when he gets the Weaver photo. “Your aunt kept these? She hated your mother--and me.” It’s on the tip of his tongue to say, “Well, you’re not very likeable. Sir.” With truly heroic, Gryffindor-standard effort, Harry restrains himself. He shrugs instead. He wants information. He’ll have to tap into whatever Slytherin qualities the Sorting Hat identified in him to get it. Snape says finally, “I grew up across the river from your mother. She was my friend. Then we went our separate ways.” “Well, you called her a Mudblood,” Harry says. “I mean, of course she’d stop talking to you.” “Do not say that word,” Snape hisses. Harry mentally kicks himself. He shouldn’t have brought up the Pensieve incident--except, ravenously, he wants to know everything about the Pensieve incident. Dumbledore sent him there, to answer his questions. He’s got nothing to lose by asking. Snape’s gonna lose his shit anyway. “Yeah, sorry,” Harry says, annoyed. He stops under a lamp post. Dusk is coming on thick, and even on Privet Drive, it’s turning to a pretty night. Snape crosses his arms and looks at him sardonically. He is sneering, preparing to spit his usual venom, but Harry persists, “How’d all that even happen? I mean, clearly my dad was a bit of a prick--I don’t know what she saw in him--” “Potter,” Snape says. “Shut up.” Harry holds his hands up. “Fine. We won’t talk about it. But you and my mother were friends. No one tells me anything about her. It’s like she had nobody but--you, I guess, and my dad. They just say I have her eyes. It’s almost my birthday, uh, Professor.” He adds the title and the respect a little thick. Snape is unamused. “Aunt Petunia just says she was a showoff. What was she really like?” Snape says, “Your aunt’s right, she was a showoff. But she was barely more than a child when she was killed. She never got the time to grow out of it. Dumbledore sent me, Potter. I’m supposed to bring you to the Weasleys. But I am not dealing with your aunt’s histrionics. Bring your things and meet me the block over. I’m parked over there.” He points at the rather nondescript gray car. “I’ll answer your questions on the drive over. You will not mention this to anyone, particularly your little friends.” It sounds sketchy, but Harry’s willing to do it just for the rumors that will circulate around the neighborhood as they see him sneaking into a strange man’s car with a wooden trunk and a bird cage. Harry darts back home and drags his things down the street and piles them into Snape’s car. Funny thought, that--that Snape has a car, and a driver’s license. He goes in for the back first, to sit with Hedwig, but Snape snaps, “I am not your chauffeur!” so he returns to the front seat. He eyes him warily as he steps in. Snape does not look at him, but sorts through a pile of CDs. “You do a lot of driving?” Harry asks disbelievingly. Snape’s nostril twitch in reply. He pulls out a battered case--The Who. He puts it in, starts the car, and there they go, driving away from Privet Drive. This is not the most surreal thing that has ever happened to Harry. He’s watched a baby hatch into a man out of a cauldron before, and listened to the whispers of the dead, and ridden on an invisible horse, as well as a broom. But Snape is serene, tapping his long, skinny fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music. Harry sneezes. The car stinks of weed. “Are you high?” Harry asks. Snape says, “To deal with you during my time off--there is no other way.” He looks at him suddenly. “Get the map. I haven’t driven through Devonshire in years. When does the road merge?” Harry shuffles through the hatbox of the car, shoving aside a pair of leather gloves, a pack of cigarettes, and a spare wand. He pulls out the map and looks at it despairingly. “What, Potter? Can’t read a map?” Harry says, “Uh. Think we drove past it. Sir.” Snape curses and does a U-town, flipping off the cars that beep in their wake. Harry is beginning to get a little scared. Snape hates him, that’s obvious, and sometimes he thinks he wants to kill him. He really doesn’t want to die in a car crash, he can just imagine the headlines. Eventually Snape gets them on their way, nasty and irritated. They detangle the suburban streets and drive into the night, getting out of the suburban tarmac into the muddy rural. When Harry tries to ask a question, Snape turns up the music. They listen to “Baba O’Riley” three times. Harry stays silent the whole time, afraid. His mother wrote this on the back of the photograph, after all, maybe there’s a subliminal message here. She wanted to go. Harry wonders, but where to? The end of Avada, a flash of green light. Maybe a car crash would have been better, more glamorous, like Princess Diana. What would she have even thought of that? Harry musters up the courage. He says, “She wrote about this on the back of one of the photographs. 1976, weavers.” He puts it on the dashboard, and Snape, keeping one hand on the wheel, picks it up and glances at it. His expression, already sour, curdles. “What does that mean?” “Tuney doesn’t talk about her childhood much, does she?” Snape remarks. He faces the road and misses the exit they were supposed to turn onto. Harry puts his hand into his other pocket and surreptitiously takes ahold of his wand. Snape’s probably not trying to kill him, but as Moody--well, fake-Moody says, “Constant vigilance!” He keeps his mouth shut. Snape’s always been garrulous, using ten words when three would suffice, and cramming as many syllables into them as he can. Hermione once despaired that lectures with him were like a speech class. It was all about the enunciation. Finally, Snape says, “We grew up in a textile town. Most of the men worked at the factory, until it closed. They were the weavers, and we were too, if it weren’t for magic.” “You’re not muggleborn!” Harry says, alarmed. “How--” “No,” Snape says. “I am not answering any questions about myself, Potter.” He veers sharply on the road, finally getting them back on track. By Harry’s reckoning, they’ve got about a half hour left. He sinks in his seat, sullen. “So what about my mum?” he asks. “Did she like--weaving? Growing up in the town? What was she like?” Snape says, “No, no, and--young, because she was young. Headstrong. Sarcastic. She didn’t suffer fools, until she did.” Harry says, “My father wasn’t a fool!” “Your father used to run around school grounds with a fully transformed werewolf.” Harry has to say, maybe his father was a bit of a fool, after all. He does not, though, have to say all that aloud. He says, “Sarcastic?” Snape says, “I think much of her wit went above her Housemates’ heads. They always said she was kind. That was not my experience. She was extraordinarily righteous, and outspoken, and strict with herself and everyone around her. To the point where one wondered how anyone could measure up to Saint Lily’s grandiose proclamations.” The CD ends, finally, and Snape clicks a button. He seems amused. “Lupin didn’t like her much, and she didn’t like Sirius. I am not surprised they avoid talking about her.” Eyes on the road, he goes through the electronic piles by touch, and pulls out a tape. He sticks it in. Harry blinks. It’s the Velvet Underground now, “All Tomorrow’s Parties.” “What costume shall the poor girl wear,” the car radio warbles, “to all tomorrow’s parties?” Harry says, “They said she was kind.” “Perhaps she was to them. She was always demanding of me, and I do not call that kind.” “You called her a Mudblood.” Snape says wearily, “And no one has ever let me forget it, twenty-one long years later. Righteous, and demanding, and strict--but never kind.” “Yeah, well, you joined the Death Eaters, too.” Snape laughs suddenly, sharply, bitterly. “Much worse than calling someone a slur. And I have spent the rest of my life repenting of it.” They’re in Devon now, getting close to the end. Harry’s gotten used to the smell and he’s enjoying the music now, even though he thinks it’s a little sad. He wonders if Snape is thinking about himself, or his mother, and if his mother would’ve liked this song. It’s the first time he’s ever heard someone talk about her like a person, not a saint, and he wants more. He wants to see her be mean--meaner, he guesses, than what he saw in the Pensieve. He wants to see her being too hard on herself and snapping back for justice, whatever she thought justice was. But she’s dead, and he’s only six years younger than she was when she died. That’s an insane thought. In six years, if Voldemort doesn’t kill him, he’ll be the same age as his mother when she died. Maybe he’ll be even older. He looks at Snape, who is meditative, hands relaxed on the steering wheel. Snape’s watching the road. He looks not-old for once, not angry or sour or raging. He just looks like a guy approaching middle-age, who’s tired, who’s thinking about the past. Harry thinks, he’s not really ugly when he lets his face be. Maybe he’s thinking not-ugly thoughts. Melancholy makes a person look human. Snape doesn’t seem like a Potions professor in this car--just sad. They pull through the town of Ottery St. Catchpole and Snape stops at a park. He looks at Harry directly and says, “Your mother...she was more than her eyes. She was an extraordinarily vibrant  young woman, who died too young, who had plans for herself and everyone around her. You’re nothing like her. No one is. There was only ever one Lily Evans, and we wouldn’t want anymore.” Harry gets out of the car and clambers to the boot of the car, getting his trunk and rattling Hedwig’s cage as he goes. She squawks at him, outraged, and he smiles at her affronted dignity. He’d thank Snape for telling him all this, but he doesn’t think he deserves it, because he only did it on Dumbledore’s orders. He gestures with the cage that he’s heading to the Burrow now. “Uh, bye then,” Harry says. He doesn’t necessarily want to wish him a safe trip. He gets five paces before Snape stops him. “Potter!” Harry turns back. Snape is standing in front of the car, illuminated in the headlights. His wand is up. Harry drops Hedwig’s cage, going for his own, but Snape is faster. “Obliviate!”

[a-second-hand-sorrow]

Family Life Headcanons (Richie Tozier X Reader)

WC: 896

Warnings: swearing, drinking, it’s so fluffy y’all omg

Summary: What life is like for the Tozier family now that Eddie is born

Tagged: @billhaderlovebot @ashleybees @tozierskaspb @danny-fucking-mercury @ilywthallmyheart

A/N: Hey, this was so fun to write. It’s set from like 2018 to 2019, and I used a gif of Bill and James bc Edward Kaspbrak features quite heavily in this piece, so hope y’all enjoy it!

Richie and Y/N’s life together was already chaotic, but upon the birth of their son Eddie it became Even More So.

Firstly, instead of Eddie having a godmother and a godfather, he had two godfathers, John and Eddie (Kaspbrak that is, the kiddo’s namesake).

John makes jokes about him having a wife and a god-husband, and how that can Definitely complicate Christmases. Luckily for him, Eddie goes along with it which has resulted in Eddie, a relatively unknown presence on social media, turning into a sensation overnight. John is very proud of his god-husband.

just saying, Richie definitely cried when he held Eddie for the first time.

Anyway, as soon as Eddie is born Y/N demands a glass of champagne because ‘I just pushed out a CHILD and haven’t been able to drink for nine months, so cut me some slack, judgy nurse.’

Richie laughs and reaches into a cooler bag he brought and pulls out a bottle of Moët and two glasses, knowing that Y/N would demand a glass of champagne like she does with every major event.

“To our little boy, Edward John Tozier.” Y/N says, raising her glass in the air as they looked at their son.

“May he have a better relationship with his mother than his namesake and be as funny as his middle-name-sake.” Richie said, tapping his glass with Y/N’s as she let out a soft chuckle, taking her first drink in nine months.

Both John and Eddie come to visit little Eddie, and they absolutely melt. Y/N swears they both cry, but they deny it if asked.

When they take Eddie home it’s definitely weird, as they’re definitely not used to having an actual little human in the house. I mean they have a little Pomeranian but he is much easier to look after than a Child.

They take a photo of Eddie with their dog and post it on Richie’s Instagram with the caption ‘We all know how much Eddie loves Pomeranians.’ He tags Kaspbrak who comments ‘fuck u dude’.

Anyway, Eddie is certainly a loud child who takes after his father in the sense that he loves to laugh but is an utter force of chaos. Y/N swears her heart stopped more than a few times when he was starting to walk because he had a tendency to throw himself at walls and tables, much to Y/N’s horror.

There have been a few times where Richie has tried to show Eddie a Monty Python sketch or an episode of Fawlty Towers. Y/N tries to get mad but she really loves John Cleese so they end up sitting down and watching it as a family, Eddie propped up on Richie’s knee and Y/N cuddled up to Richie’s side, her eyes flicking between the TV and her beautiful family.

For Eddie’s first birthday they decide to just keep it casual because he’s one year old for fuck’s sake, why would they have a giant party for an infant? They invite John and Anna over, as well as Eddie and his new boyfriend who Y/N adores. They invite the rest of the Losers who all show up with big smiles and gifts for the first of the Loser babies.

They also extend the invite to both Y/N and Richie’s parents, however only Y/N’s mother Joanna shows up. Richie is a bit upset by the fact that neither of his parents came, but Y/N is there to help him out.

Y/N posts all the photos of the party to her Instagram, captioning them ‘Happy one year anniversary to the removal of this little parasite.’

There are definitely plenty of sleepless nights, and a lot of time Y/N gets really snappy because of it but Richie is surprisingly patient and he always makes sure to look after Eddie during the night so Y/N can get some sleep.

Eddie’s first word is ‘dad’, something that Richie never lets Y/N forget. He brings it up whenever possible and although it does annoy Y/N at times, she’s just overwhelmed with how much Richie loves their kid.

One night, a few weeks after Eddie’s first birthday, Richie and Y/N decide to have a date night. They haven’t had one in a very long time, so they ask Eddie (senior) if he can come babysit. He says yes immediately, eager to spend some time with his godson. Richie and Y/N are very grateful, and when they get back from their date they are so happy to see Big Eddie asleep on the couch with Little Eddie held against his chest.

Y/N took a photo, adding it to her ever-growing folder of Eddie related photos, and later that night she sent it to the Losers group chat that was created back in 2016 after the Derry ‘reunion’. She got very close with them all and had been a member of the Club ever since. Along with the photo was a message that read ‘guess little Eddie loves his uncle.’

Kaspbrak would never admit it, but he melted seeing the photo (as annoyed as he was that Y/N took it without informing him).

The Tozier family was loud and chaotic, without a doubt, but they loved each other so very much.

[yintoyan]

Sunday September 23,2018

I posted a cute ass selfie on ig. Ricky liked it. And i intentionally posted it for him to hit me up lol. Thirst trap at its finest. I had a feeling he was gonna hit me up so i was a little prepared. Around 1 am he messaged me 👀 on snap. He said he wanted me and i asked if i can see him tonight. He said yes and that he was at his cousins house in south city. He recent me the address. I got ready and went to pick him up, as i was driving he sent me my picture back to me saying “i want her” i said she’s coming to pick u up in a black Hyundai. I got to the house and as i was waiting a big ass rat ran by! Eewww!! He came out and he was all dressed up in slacks a button up and burgundy tie! It was his nephews baptism. We talked about it a bit. He is the second godfather to them. He said sandros baby has really blue eyes and light everything. We talked about Chitos brother singing at the party too. Ricky was really talkative tonight lol idk if it was the alcohol but he kept going and going lol

As we drove he kissed me at the stop light. He held my hand for a bit and kissed on it. When he kisses my hand while driving is literally my favorite thing. One of the most intimate things a person can do in my opinion. We got to our usual spot and started right away. The usual kissing touching rubbing sucking titties slapping ass etc. he took care of me first and i came a few times. It was my turn but he couldn’t get hard! He kept assuring me it wasn’t me but it was because he drank a lot (Forgot to mention he smelled like straight up tequila when he got in the car) we made out for hella long and he even pleasures me two more times after i came the first time. Tried everything , dry humping, sucking his neck, sucking his fingers (his nail scratched the top of my mouth! Ouch) licking his ear, licking the tip and nothing. Finally he got semi hard after like an hour lol i started sucking and he got fully hard. He nutted right away lol. It was 4 am and he needed to sleep to wake up early to watch his damn football games. Played wale in the car. “The break up song” He said that’s how he got into Seinfeld . Dropped him off. I saw he got a new license plate ( the black and yellow ones) we said our goodbyes!

Side note he brought two waters with him and a Red Bull. We shared the Red Bull and we kept burping lol

[asianry416]

1 to 200~! :D hue hue hue hue >:3

woooooooooooooooooooooooow thats so evil of you

200: My crush’s name is: no one for now199: I was born in: 96 toronto canada198: I am really: weird and hard to understand197: My cellphone company is: telus 196: My eye color is: brown195: My shoe size is: 11.5194: My ring size is: 9193: My height is: 5′9192: I am allergic to: idk I been getting heavy spring allergy191: My 1st car was: 94 lexus es300190: My 1st job was: kfc 189: Last book you read: my college textbook188: My bed is: wat? it’s queen size187: My pet: no pets186: My best friend: my 3 childhood friends from 11 years old185: My favorite shampoo is: head and shoulders 184: Xbox or ps3: wat about ps4? ima playstation guy183: Piggy banks are: easy to break into to182: In my pockets: my phone 181: On my calendar: i dont have one180: Marriage is: one of the happiest moments in a person’s life179: Spongebob can: cook krabby patties 178: My mom: is my life.177: The last three songs I bought were? i never brought songs...176: Last YouTube video watched: highlights of this years nba season175: How many cousins do you have? a shit load 174: Do you have any siblings? 2 younger brothers173: Are your parents divorced? yes172: Are you taller than your mom? yes171: Do you play an instrument? i played violin in secret all through high school170: What did you do yesterday? I went to the government office to fix my name and came home and just watched shows[ I Believe In ]169: Love at first sight: to a degree yes168: Luck: yes167: Fate: yes166: Yourself: a bit165: Aliens: yes164: Heaven: yes163: Hell: yes162: God: yes161: Horoscopes: yes160: Soul mates: yes159: Ghosts: yes158: Gay Marriage: yes157: War: knowing how greedy humans are and we ruin everything we touch its in our nature yes156: Orbs: no 155: Magic: no [ This or That ]154: Hugs or Kisses: kisses153: Drunk or High: high152: Phone or Online: phone151: Red heads or Black haired: red hair150: Blondes or Brunettes: brunettes 149: Hot or cold: hot148: Summer or winter: winter147: Autumn or Spring: autumn 146: Chocolate or vanilla: vanilla 145: Night or Day: night144: Oranges or Apples: apples143: Curly or Straight hair: straight142: McDonalds or Burger King: burger king141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: white chocolate 140: Mac or PC: pc139: Flip flops or high heals: flip flops ima guy i never wore high heels before138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: sweet and poor137: Coke or Pepsi: pepsi 136: Hillary or Obama: obama135: Burried or cremated: cremated134: Singing or Dancing: singing133: Coach or Chanel: coach132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: who the hell are they?131: Small town or Big city: big city im a city boy130: Wal-Mart or Target: wal mart 129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: ben stiller 128: Manicure or Pedicure: shit ummm manicure??127: East Coast or West Coast: east coast 126: Your Birthday or Christmas: christmas 125: Chocolate or Flowers: flowers 124: Disney or Six Flags: disney123: Yankees or Red Sox: fuck the yankees RED SOXS[ Here’s What I Think About ]122: War: will always exist because weapon businesseses and government make money off it121: George Bush: idc tbh 120: Gay Marriage: love is love why is this an issue 119: The presidential election: with trump in power he will fuck everything up not nationally but internationally.118: Abortion: tbh if u get pregnant because you weren’t careful thats on you abortions should be allowed for raped victims.117: MySpace: idk wat that is 116: Reality TV: they never entertained me, i don’t understand why they exist115: Parents: should be the stepping stone to the next generation to succeed higher 114: Back stabbers: they exist everywhere, it could be your lover, your friends, even family113: Ebay: i use kijiji 112: Facebook: is the last place you need to post private posts.111: Work: everyone’s gotta make a living right?110: My Neighbors: I have a old lady next door who lives alone I check on her everyday idk why her kids left her to live alone she can’t even walk.109: Gas Prices: will continue to climb supply and demand 108: Designer Clothes: cool i have a few107: College: stresses me out 106: Sports: love to play sports and watch it 105: My family: my mom and 2 brothers, there’s no one else 104: The future: I will shine, I will succeed, I will prove everyone that Im not just another ghetto kid from the hood.[ Last time I ]103: Hugged someone: 2 days ago my classmates102: Last time you ate: 2 hours ago chicken wings101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: I was in my college gym playing basketball and I saw my high school friend100: Cried in front of someone: 2 months ago my dad’s death anniversary in front of my childhood friends99: Went to a movie theater: a week ago fast and furious 898: Took a vacation: december to minnesota 97: Swam in a pool: last summer 96: Changed a diaper: 2 months ago my baby cousin 95: Got my nails done: never 94: Went to a wedding: back when I was like wat 693: Broke a bone: never 92: Got a peircing: when I was one month old my mom got my ear pierced 91: Broke the law: i spend most of my senior year 2 years ago in jail90: Texted: 3 hours ago [ MISC ]89: Who makes you laugh the most: my youngest brother88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: my bed87: The last movie I saw: fast and furious86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: graduating 85: The thing im not looking forward to: 84: People call me: ry83: The most difficult thing to do is: trust82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: 3 to be exact 81: My zodiac sign is: aries80: The first person i talked to today was: my mother 79: First time you had a crush: like 3rd grade no names tho78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: my father back when we was alive77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: my youngest brother.76: Right now I am talking to: a bunch of people75: What are you going to do when you grow up: a social worker, helping kids who went through wat I went through74: I have/will get a job: currently just studying I have money saved up from my last job73: Tomorrow: IS FRIDAY72: Today: tiring i worked out 71: Next Summer: my dumbass signed up for summer classes 70: Next Weekend: im going out with my childhood friends69: I have these pets: none68: The worst sound in the world: the sound of someone’s gasp for last breathe 67: The person that makes me cry the most is: no one 66: People that make you happy: my mother and two brothers65: Last time I cried: two months ago my father’s death anniversary 64: My friends are: the people who grew up with me from a youngin 63: My computer is: a dell laptop 62: My School: 61: My Car: is good enough to smoke u at a stop light60: I lose all respect for people who: cheat and take advantage of others59: The movie I cried at was: none58: Your hair color is: naturally black but currently red57: TV shows you watch: i dont watch tv shows, I’ve been watching kdrama56: Favorite web site: This fucking website 55: Your dream vacation: Never been to Europe 54: The worst pain I was ever in was: those night cramps on the calves 53: How do you like your steak cooked: medium rare52: My room is: where I spent mos of my time 51: My favorite celebrity is: Nelson Mandela but he’s gone...50: Where would you like to be: peace of mind49: Do you want children: yes48: Ever been in love: yes 47: Who’s your best friend: i have 3 no names 46: More guy friends or girl friends: mix of both45: One thing that makes you feel great is: help others 44: One person that you wish you could see right now: my father43: Do you have a 5 year plan: yes hopefully go for my masters while working in my field part time42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: bucketlist yes 41: Have you pre-named your children: i have anmes to consider40: Last person I got mad at: my ex 39: I would like to move to: california 38: I wish I was a professional: basketball player [ My Favorites ]37: Candy: skittles 36: Vehicle: dream car Maserati gt 35: President:i dont have one 34: State visited: california, arizona, Minnesota, illinois, north carolina, virginia, texas, colorado, new york33: Cellphone provider: telus32: Athlete: Derrick Rose31: Actor: i dont have one30: Actress: none29: Singer: bruno mars28: Band: linkin park 27: Clothing store: Footlockers26: Grocery store: none25: TV show: south park24: Movie: the godfather23: Website: this fucking website 22: Animal: panda 21: Theme park: Canada’s wonderland20: Holiday: none19: Sport to watch: basketball and hockey18: Sport to play: basketball and volleyball 17: Magazine: none16: Book: Brave new World 15: Day of the week: saturday 14: Beach: none13: Concert attended: J.Cole 12: Thing to cook: jerk chicken 11: Food: sushi 10: Restaurant: buffets 9: Radio station: flow 93.5 8: Yankee candle scent: none 7: Perfume: none 6: Flower: Rose5: Color: Red 4: Talk show host: None 3: Comedian: Russell Peters 2: Dog breed: PUG1: Did you answer all these truthfully? YES

FUCKING FINALLY