Abate

Aaron Hernadez’s suicide makes him legally innocent now.

I’m SO TIRED of the Aaron Hernandez posts from conspiracy theorists and armchair lawyers but……….this one actually checks out for the most part and it’s pretty fascinating.

Remember, the most recent case where Hernandez was found not guilty was not his only murder rap.  In 2015, he had already been found guilty of murdering Odin Lloyd. This double homicide trial for the murders of Daniel Jorge Correia de Abreu and Safiro Teixeira Furtado had no bearing on the first one.  

Our legal system was primarily based on the English legal system, and the Massachusetts law that covers abatement ab initio dates back to the Thirteen Colonies.  Less than ten states still have abatement ab initio on the books, but Massachusetts is one of those states. “Ab initio” in Latin means “from the beginning” and the idea of the law is your legal status goes back to the beginning, as in before your trial, if you die during an appeal or before your legal status is finalized.  Your case is not over just because you’re found guilty.  It’s over once you’ve exhausted all of your appeals.  A higher court always has the option of overturning a conviction.  In Hernandez’s case, he died before a higher court has the opportunity to overturn or uphold his conviction, so therefore, his legal status goes back to the beginning.  He’s innocent now.

Martin Healy, the chief legal counsel for the Massachusetts Bar Association, explains that the state observes abatement ab initio, which in criminal proceedings is applied if a defendant dies before all of their appeals have been resolved.

Under abatement ab initio (the latter phrase meaning “from the beginning”), the defendant’s case returns to its initial phase and the slate is wiped clean.

“It’s as if the trial has never happened, and it’s as if the indictment has never happened,” says Healy, who is unconnected to the case.

So “under the eyes of the law, Hernandez has died an innocent man,” Healy continues. “He has not been convicted of any crime in Massachusetts.”

(cont. People)

Abatement ab initio only makes its way into the press when a high profile criminal dies sometime before his legal status has been settled.  The most familiar one to most of us would have been Ken Lay during the Enron scandal.  He was found guilty and prosecutors were looking for Lay to pay back $44 million in restitution in addition to jail time.  His conviction was erased when he died of a heart attack before sentencing because, just like with an appeal, his legal status hadn’t been finalized.

As for the Patriots’ contract, the family can now sue on the grounds that Hernandez was innocent and his contract shouldn’t have been nullified.  The Patriots’ actually nixed that contract when Hernandez was indicted, so it’ll still take some legal maneuvering in court, but the conviction from Hernandez’s first trial can never be brought up in court ever again, not in a contract disupte or in a civil suit brought by the victim’s family.  Any party going against Hernandez’s estate at this point has to start from scratch to prove his guilt all over again.  It’s basically a retrial where the defense knows exactly what the prosecution will say and can build their strategy around that.

As for the meme, most of it is correct, but Hernandez was never entitled to that $15 million.  It was a contract over the course of a few years and it wasn’t guaranteed.  The family can sue for the remainder of the signing bonus though, which is still a few million dollars.  Whether Hernandez knew all of this when he committed suicide is impossible for us to know, but I’m still pretty interested to see how it will play out.

10

So I haven’t been posting on here much in the last few months. Part of that was because my computer was broken and in the shop for nearly two months, which made posting hard. Then right after that I was dealing with a big move to a new house and getting settled into my new job, but I’m hoping to start posting regularly again soon.

Anyway, time for an update. I am now living in Southern California and working full time bird abatement in LA for The Hawk Pros. I currently work at 6 different sites throughout the city, including malls, resorts, bank buildings, and filming firms, and it’s a lot to keep track of! Adjusting to city life is also a bit of a culture shock, seeing as I’ve been living out in the country for the past couple years. But I’m gradually getting used to it and I think I’m going to have a lot of fun with this new job! My current work bird is a male Harris hawk named Riley. We’re still getting to know each other, but he’s a sweetheart and our teamwork is improving every day. I should be getting a second Harris to add to the team soon too :) And of course, Malia gets to come and help out as well. She’s becoming a pro at pointing pigeons and keeping them away from the fountains!

Kai isn’t thrilled about the move because city life is a lot noisier than the country he’s used to, so he’s been a little stressed out lately, but he’s holding it together and not letting it affect the relationship between us. I expected the move to be hard on him, so overall I’m proud of how he’s handling himself. I’m hoping he’ll get used to it with a little more time. 

Me Against You

PART 1, PART 2 

A/N: I turned 18 today, on the 10th of April, and as a birthday treat, here’s an extra long chapter!! I wanted a date with Tom Holland for my birthday present, but needless to say, I did not get what I wanted. Someone please tell me that he’d love me as much as I loved him if we ever met in this lifetime. 

Warning: Angst, mentions of torture.


Everything happens quickly.

One moment you’re staring up at a wide expanse of blue sky, watching the jet disappear; the next, you’re surrounded by a group of soldiers rushing onto the scene in combat fatigues, pointing their guns at you.

Realization sends you backpedalling, but you run into something solid. You turn, already swinging, and nail one in the chin. He stumbles to the side and would have given you a clear shot to your friends, but three other soldiers take his place.

Before you realize what’s happening, a metal collar is snapped around your neck, sharp electrical pulses shooting through you. Suddenly, you can’t move, can barely breathe. Panic fills you, joining the adrenaline rushing through your veins, and your body isn’t sure how to react. Keep fighting, or shut down.

“W-What are they doing?” You hear Peter ask. You can’t see him, but he sounds scared. Panicked. “That’s a collar. Mr Stark, you said they were only going to talk to her!”

Stop it,” Agent Barton snaps. “That’s a child, not an animal, get that thing off!”

Keep fighting. Definitely keep fighting. The idea of sending your SAT scores to Attica instead of Cambridge is not appealing. You unleash it all with a scream. A plane explodes in a ball of fire, shaking the ground beneath your feet. Screams of terror fill your ears. The shock wave hits everyone within a hundred foot radius, knocking them backwards. You hit the ground hard, and a wave of pain sweeps over you.

“Run!” You try to shout, but only gurgles escape.

And then that familiar voice says your name, taut with pain.

(Y/n).”

It’s him.

“(Y/n),” Peter tries again.

You slowly lift your head up to stare at him.

He’d known what would happen. He’d done this. He’d betrayed you.

Peter’s scrambled to his feet now, hands outstretched, almost as if he wants to touch you, but can’t quite bring himself to.

With a feral scream, you launch yourself at him. You and Peter slam onto the ground, hard. Volts of electricity shoot through you, sharp and hot and carnivorous. You open your mouth to scream. Peter takes the opportunity to shove you off of him, shooting webs to pin your hands and feet to the ground.

(Y/n),” Peter manages. He sounds closes to tears now, his tone as tormented as his expression. “(Y/n), please, I’m your friend.”

You stare at him, your eye wild and feral-looking, your breath coming quicker and quicker from your parted lips. The pain is crashing over you in waves, the shocks making your muscles twitch and seize painfully, but you manage to raise your head, glaring at Peter with such soul-deep hatred that the blood turns to ice in his veins.

“We were never friends!” Your screams come one after another, scraping along your raw throat without pause. “I have always HATED you!”

For the third time that day, Peter recoils. He goes incredibly still, so still that you notice how his hands are trembling. He’s wearing a mask, but you know that his face is contorted in misery. There’s a quiet whoosh of air, followed by the sharp stab of pain in your arm. You can only stare at the small darts in your shoulder before blackness pulls you under.


“– How is she?” A male is saying. You recognize his voice. It makes you angry. Angry enough to force you out of your deep sleep, the only thing protecting you from feeling the pain in your body.

You blink, looking through eyes glassy from the strain they’ve endured. Tony Stark peers in through the glass window, looking at you as though you are a particularly interesting specimen under a microscope. Dark half-moons ring his eyes, and his arm is in a sling. You can’t find it in you to feel sympathetic for his injuries.

The anger magnifies, giving you strength. Strapped to the cot with metal shackles, you fight for freedom. Snarling like the very animal you might be becoming, you twist and buck, half-crazed eyes staring at him, wishing that you could do so much more than try to kill him with your eyes. All you receive for your trouble is another jolt of electricity. The bed shakes with the force of your shudders, the pain acute, gut-wrenching and soul-zapping. They’re going to kill you. How could they not? After a while, even your skin begins to vibrate and it doesn’t stop when the electricity does. Your bones feel brittle, as if they’re going to break at any second. Your lungs have to be filled with glass rather than air. Every breath is agony.

Tony Stark only looks at you again once your screams have stopped. His head droops. With shame? “The Spiderling wants to see you. You hurt him pretty bad.”

Good,” You snarl, surprised at the sound of your voice. You’ve shouted, but only a whisper can be heard. “Tell him I hate him and that I lied.”

Tony Stark closes his eyes, releasing a heavy breath. “He was doing the right thing.”

You raise your head to stare at him, eyes narrowed to angry slits. “No. He was doing what you asked him to.”

Tony Stark’s mouth opens and closes, and you know he’s searching for a response. When he finds none, he turned on his heel and marches out of the room.

“Good riddance,” Clint mutters.

Scott’s the first to recover, a curious edge to his voice. “What exactly did you lie about?”

You let your head droop back onto the pillow. “Having a good time,” You dead-pan, your eyes flickering up to the ceiling. “We went out a lot.”

Scott’s the first to snort in amusement. Slowly, the others join in, Clint and Sam snickering right along with him. It’s even enough to rouse a weak and rusty-sounding laugh out of Wanda, who’s been silent for the whole week that you’ve been stuck here.

It feels good to laugh. Even for only a moment.


You wake with wet cheeks, and a warm, calloused hand tapping at your face. You hope this doesn’t mean that the doctors are back to draw more of your blood; but the doctors at the Raft would never be that gentle with you.

(Y/n)? (Y/n), can you hear me?” The voice is pained, and you think you hear a muttered curse of, “Damn it, Tony.”

The pain is a constant throb in your head and limbs, you shouldn’t move; it will only make everything worse. Wincing, you crane your head up to see who has called your name. Blinking several times, you focus as hard as you can on the only face you can see. It is contorted with anger. His eyes are the palest blue you’ve ever seen, and remind you of clear summer skies and languorous lagoons. He’s not in the red and blue uniform, but in a plain grey hoodie, a white shirt and a pair of jeans. But you would recognize that face anywhere.

“Captain,” You croak weakly. “How was Russia?”

“Cold,” He answers wryly. “I prefer a warmer climate.”

He kneels, you hear the tinkle of metal being ripped apart, and your hands and legs are free. It’s difficult to move; fatigue has added weight to each of your limbs and your eyelids feel as if they’ve been replaced with sandpaper. Captain America helps you sit up, draping his hoodie over your shoulders.

“The collar now. Okay?” He offers you a calm and steady smile, his eyes warm and kind. “One, two –”

Quick as a flash, he grasps at the collar around your neck. Your fingers dig into your palms, gouging crescent shaped marks into soft flesh. Bracing yourself for an electric shock, you nod tersely, and he breaks it apart with his bare hands. You exhale in relief, smiling faintly and wanly at him.

“We’re getting out of here, (Y/n),” Captain America says, smoothing back soaked and matted hair away from your forehead. “Everyone’s waiting in the jet.”

You’re unable to support your own weight; he has to half-carry, half-drag you for several paces at your insistence that you can walk. When what little strength you have drains out of you, you crumple into a heap on the floor. He gives up the charade of allowing you to walk on your own and unceremoniously lifts you up off the floor and into his arms, as if you weigh nothing more than a feather. Your head lolls against his chest as he carries you out of your cell. An alarm erupts, screeching through the empty room.

“I was mean to him,” You confess groggily, your voice strained. “Very, very mean.”

Him. That kid with the webs?” Captain America bends down, and rips a badge off the neck of an unconscious guard. “The one from Queens?”

“He’s called Peter Parker,” You confirm, tears springing into your eyes. “He’s got the warmest brown eyes, and the nicest brown hair. He’s funny, he’s smart, he’s nice. He always got picked on by Flash Thompson, but Peter never let Flash bully me. He’s – well, was – my best friend.”

“I’m sorry,” Captain America apologises, the pain naked in his voice. “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this. Tony shouldn’t have –”

You close your eyes on a pained sigh. “Tony Stark is responsible for many things. But he didn’t make me shove Peter out a window, or into a concrete wall. I did those. Me. I’m a horrible person.”

Captain America uses the badge to open the door to the hallway. The two of you enter a long, narrow, passage that you’re relieved to find is empty. Maybe he’s disabled all the guards already. You can only hope. You’re tired of fighting, of having to use your powers. All you want to do is curl up in a ball and fall asleep.

“Believe me, I’ve seen a lot of horrible people. You’re not one of them.”

It doesn’t make you feel any better. You close your eyes against the pounding in your head. “I said I hated him. I hurt him, really bad. Peter hates me now.” And I don’t blame him.

Down the hall. Around a corner. Another hall, another corner. In the stairwell, your breathing and footsteps echo off the walls. But these are the only sounds. No one is following the two of you. Others will be here soon, though. You’re certain the alarm’s already been reported to Ross, wherever that monster is.

A pained groan slips past your lips as Captain America carries you up, up the steps. As fatigued as you are, as undernourished, as wounded, your trembling seems to magnify with every new inch of ground the two of you gain. He opens the door to the landing pad, and you see the jet you’d helped to hijack sitting right in the middle of it.

It’s dark outside. Frigid air envelopes you, worse because you’re in thin prison clothes, with only a hoodie draped over your skinny frame. The cold sea breeze whips hair around your face, and, you think, slices at your skin. You huddle closer to Captain America, exhaustion glazing your moon-soaked features.

“Hold on,” Captain America says pleadingly, and you hear the worry in his voice as he practically sprints for the jet. “There’s a first aid kit in the jet. You’re going to be fine.”

Sam yanks the door closed as soon as the two of you are on the jet, strapped in and ready to go. Without a hitch, you’re shooting across the dark sky. Bucky turns, sympathy written in his eyes. He’s been through some horrible things, too. Wanda is curled up by Clint’s side, her face gaunt and her eyes closed. Scott’s already asleep, snoring like a jackhammer in the seat by the window.

“What if he hates me?” A sob escapes you, a testament to the still-fraying rope holding back your emotions. It won’t last much longer now. “Peter hates me, I hate me, I’m –”

(Y/n), do you want to know what I think?” Captain America asks kindly, kneeling down to look into your red-rimmed eyes, brimming with tears. He clasps your hands in his. It feels as though you’re holding the full blazing sun in your small palms, his so hot and yours so cold. “I have heard nothing but positives about Peter Parker. If this guy is as good a person as you seem to think he is, then I’m willing to bet he’ll forgive you when you apologize.”

Your chin trembles, a fresh round of tears threatening to fall. You lean forwards, pressing your face into his shoulder, and there is a sudden, hollow silence.

Da sinistra. suit microchecks, Montana; maglia di cashmere, Gieves & Hawkes. Fourad Boss Hugo Boss; pochette di seta, Tino Cosma; Guanti YSL Rive Gauche. Giacca con stemma e pantaloni, Daks; cashmere turtleneck, A-B-Kost; v-neck jacquard, Loris Abate. Occhiali Emporio Armani; cahce-col a pois, Tino Cosma; Guanti YSL Rive Gauche; Mocassini Sergio Rossi

cosmopolitan.com
The 15 Emotional Stages of Buying Harry Styles Tickets
Just stop your crying, have the time of your life.

1. Constant state of low-key misery brought on by not getting tickets the first time around. I’m really happy for all five of you that got tickets to the original tour, but I also wouldn’t be mad if you fell seriously ill and had to sell them to me. What’s that? Oh yes, you can definitely eat mayonnaise after it’s been left out in the sun for 36 hours.

2. Elation that Harry has added additional tour dates. This must be what it feels like to win the lottery, or at least trivia night when you’re playing against your nemesis who thinks you’re stupid for remembering how many Twilight movies there are. (Sorry bro, but you’re the idiot for not knowing the answer is five.)

3. Fear that they’re at even smaller venues than the original tour. I swear to god if he tries to do this at some 500-person club, I will take a lighter to my special-edition vinyl copy of Harry Styles and never look back.

4. Return of the elation when you realize it’s a stadium tour. Goddamn it, Harry, this is a real roller coaster! My emotions haven’t gotten this much of a workout since March 25, 2015. (If you have to ask what happened on that date, you will be denied entry at the door of each and every tour stop.)

5. Anxiety that will not abate until the on-sale date arrives. “Well, doctor, my symptoms are I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and every time I see photos of Harry Styles, it feels like I’m having a heart attack.”

6. Unadulterated rage at Ticketmaster for implementing this insane Verified Fan program. So much for getting an American Express card just so I could participate in the American Express presale. This really feels like a personal attack.

7. Terror that you will not receive a Verified Fan code. What the hell does “randomly selected” mean, Ticketmaster? Is this sweatshirt I’m wearing of all Harry’s tattoos where they are on his body not verification enough for you?

8. Intense preparation the likes of which you have not undertaken since studying for your SATs. Code, copy and pasted. Credit cards, staged. Ticketmaster account, logged into. Boyfriend, enlisted to try for the other dates within public transit distance. All systems go!

9. More rage. Oh my god, so much rage. HOW? HOW, HARRY? HOW COULD THEY ALREADY BE SOLD OUT? IT’S BEEN 0.00001 SECOND. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? I LOVED YOU. IS WHAT WE HAD NOT REAL?

10. Denial that there could somehow be only one single ticket left in the entire arena. This thing seats 20,000 people, and you’re telling me there aren’t two seats left together in the entire building?

11. Acceptance that you will just have to buy that one ticket and sit alone. I’m a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a concert buddy. Anyone who thinks it’s weird that a 30-year-old adult is sitting alone at a Harry Styles concert is obviously just jealous that they’re not brave enough to sit alone at a Harry Styles concert.

12. Annoyance at someone having the gall to text you during your Very Important Ticket Buying Session. The nerve. I am Very Busy right now and cannot be bothered, especially if this is you, Verizon, texting to say that I’m almost out of data. I fucking know, OK?

13. HOLY SHIT, IT’S TICKETMASTER SAYING HE’S ADDED ANOTHER DATE. Praise be to the most high Beyoncé (I assume this was her doing).

14. Prayer and reflection. “Dear Lord, I know I haven’t been to church since George W. Bush was in office, but I promise I’ll go back and never take Your name in vain again if You find me four tickets together, so I can sit with the whole crew.”

15. A feeling of deep satisfaction and peace. VICTORY IS MINE! See you in church on Sunday.

Krasivaya-Chapter 14

Summary: You and Bucky Barnes have been friends for years. You are deeply, completely, in love with the super soldier, but he sees you as nothing more than a little sister. What happens when Bucky starts to date in earnest?

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Smut, Angst, Self-Esteem issues, Depression, Anxiety. Violence.

 Under  18s Avert your eyes, this is pure sin. 

Keep reading

“Some people are meant to be loved and others just naked” (III)

A/N: Part III of CEO Harry! I sincerely hope this was worth the wait and that you guys enjoy it. Thank you for your lovely comments and support. As always, this includes smut, daddy kink and a shitload of angst. I hope you like it. ♥

Harry and Y/N are enemies in the business world but the perfect partners under the sheets.

Based on the song Wrong by Zayn ft. Kehlani

Part I. Part II. Part III.

Originally posted by ohbabyyeah

The sense of overachievement deeply ingrained in Y/N’s mindset is an innate weapon that can be both a blessing and a curse: when success is the rule rather than the exception, each failure, no matter how minor, feels like the end of the world.

Oliver Zhang represented all four horsemen during Y/N’s friday night apocalypse. She was certain she hadn’t experienced humiliation to its greatest extent until he stood her up at a VIP rooftop bar that overlooked the whole city and highlighted the blossoming nightlife she was letting go to waste -along with three hours of her precious time and a new outfit.

Unable to convert stress into drive whenever the gap between her expectations and the reality of her circumstances starts to diverge, she reverted back to a well-practised posture: that of spoiled brat utterly resolute in her decision to fuck shit up and get away with it.

The taste of defeat and the remnants of shame hovering on the tip of her tongue assumed control of her body and, naturally, what ensued was nothing short of wrongdoings she would gladly exclude from her future autobiography.  A videotape in fast forward, memories that her mind would disguise as dreams -and therefore wouldn’t regret- until the following morning.

What her brain did register was that at some point, her low cut silk burgundy dress came off. 

And somewhere along the way, she ended up in Harry Styles’ bed.

Her resolve might parallel that of an all-powerful creature but she’s only limited to her human strength, and no human in recorded history has been proved strong enough to fight off the inevitable.

Keep reading

We’re Together

A Richonne one-shot on how Rick deals with jealousy. Hope you enjoy it!


Rick stood at a distance as he watched Michonne elegantly whirl and swish her sword with skilled precision as a group of mesmerized students copied her every move.

Ezekiel had convinced them to give weekly weapons training to his people at the Kingdom. They were reluctant at first but quickly realized it gave them a chance to go on frequent road trips together.

A smile spread across his lips as he remembered last night’s trip. They’d become sidetracked and spent the night hidden in a thick of trees, raucously debuting the back of their newly acquired van. It made him wonder if the Hilltop needed help with their weapons training, too.

A voice interrupted his shameless thoughts. “Wow, that woman is incredible.”

Rick glanced over at the astonished younger man beside him. He didn’t recognize him but then again, he knew only a handful of people from Ezekiel’s community. Everybody else all seemed to cower away every time he or anybody from the group showed up at their gate. Although, judging by his confident way of approaching him, this guy wasn’t familiar with the protocol.

Deciding to give into a bit of small talk, Rick adjusted his hands on his hips and nodded proudly, engaging with the guy complimenting his woman, “She is good.”

The guy shook his head in reverence. “More than good. She's…she’s something else.” He stared at her with a dopey smile on his face.

Rick knit his brow. He didn’t much like that look on his face. But then again, Michonne had told him to give these people a chance. He merely rolled his shoulders uneasily. “Yeah?”

The guy nodded in veneration. “We talked this morning. She told me how she learned to handle that weapon of hers. Self-taught. Not a single lesson.” He shook his head in awe. “That’s just impressive.”

Rick lightly sucked in his cheeks, the taste on his tongue souring. This guy’s compliments were quickly getting on his nerves. Hopefully, the guy knew when to shut his mouth before things got ugly. “Impressive,” he repeated without growling.

The enthralled man heaved a sigh. “That Michonne is amazing.” They watched as she bent over to lay her sword down and pick up her water bottle. Rick glared at the obviously ogling guy. The idiot smiled roguishly, adding, “And hot as hell, too.”

A snarl twitched at Rick’s lip as he slowly tilted his head to eye the oblivious man menacingly. This guy’s flattery had started out innocently enough but was now verging on suicidal. Didn’t he know who he was talking to?

Then he said the words that would seal his fate.

“I think I might, you know, see if she’s interested.”

Rick’s icy blue eyes burned with rage. He glared at him, swallowing back a bitter taste of irrational jealousy. His hand itched to pull out his Colt and put a bullet between his eyes. Instead, he rolled his neck stiffly and turned toward him, ready to pounce at the next comment he made about her. His ears tinged red as he withheld his rage.

The guy, finally picking up on the suddenly tense mood, turned to look at him uncertainly. “Y-you don’t think that’s a good idea?”

The guy’s innocent tone and naïve look prevented Rick from putting him down right then and there. Instead, he held back a glowering look as he pursed his lips tightly and scratched at his beard in feigned consideration. In reality, his skin was starting to crawl with an urgent need to punch his teeth in. “Probably not,” he finally replied with a gravelly voice.

The guy looked around before leaning in conspiratorially. “Why? Is she with somebody?”

He shrugged before lightly sucking in his cheeks again, his hand instinctively resting on his gun. He looked up at him darkly, an unhinged smirk playing on his lips. “We’re together.”

The guy’s face paled as if he’d just stepped in the middle of a hungry hoard. “Ah, shit,” he whispered before clearing his throat and backing away slowly. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to disrespect you or your girlfriend. I just came back from a run a couple weeks ago. I-I didn’t know. Sorry, man, sorry,” he mumbled, quickly turning away, tripping over himself as he sprinted down the road with his tail between his legs.

Catching her breath, Michonne walked up behind her bow-legged man, drinking from her bottled water, puzzled by the guy who had just dashed away from Rick as if he carried some sort of contagious disease.

She stared up at him curiously, wiping at her mouth with her forearm. “Who was that?”

He turned to look at her before roughly pulling her in his arms. She whimpered in surprise, her water bottle dropping to the ground. He pulled her closer and thoroughly paid worship to her irresistible lips. She gripped tightly to his damp curls as he kissed her thoroughly, using his tongue to fully taste her, sucking on her lips as if they were delicate sources of life.

When he finally pulled away, laying only gentle kisses on her lips, her eyelids fluttered open, her head light from the sudden attack. He held her tightly in his arms as she wordlessly and breathlessly questioned him, wondering why the sudden public display of affection.

He gazed down at her mouth as he softly rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb. “Thank you.”

Recognizing the tension in his body and his inability to look her in the eyes, she arched her eyebrow as a realization dawned on her: Rick was jealous. An admonishing smile spread across her face. Whatever that guy had said had riled him up. Fortunately for her, a jealous Rick was a ravenous Rick. Knowing she’d pay for it later – a debt she’d gladly cover – she teased him, “Did this one offer to lay with me after?”

He glowered at her as she chuckled at his show of possessiveness. She shook her head delightedly and kissed him a final time before pulling away. Leave it to her man to get jealous when she had a job to do. He’d just have to wait until the drive home for her to remind him of all the reasons he made her feel the way no other man ever could.

She picked up her water bottle, intentionally bending to give him an eyeful, before turning to walk backwards toward her group of awaiting students. “Next time, ask if he’s into bowl cuts and garbage piles. We might know somebody.” She grinned at him playfully, turning to head back to work.

He smirked at her with a knowing look in his eyes as she continued her lesson, his jealousy abating and his heart a little bit fuller.

anonymous asked:

Do you think the dislike Snape/Harry had for one another (although mostly due to their hostile history and interactions of course) was further reinforced by a slight jealousy of the other's relationship with Albus? An almost sibling rivalry if you will? Albus' seemingly absolute trust for each seemed to annoy the hell out of them both!

Yes, yes, yes - I’m a big believer in this.

Harry’s side is very simple in these circumstances - Dumbledore is the embodiment of all that is wonderful in the wizarding world.  He’s powerful, impressive, intelligent - and he seems to really love Harry.  For a boy who is utterly starved of emotional affection when he arrives at Hogwarts, to be liked and mentored by a man of Dumbledore’s standing is a heady feeling.  It’s no wonder that Harry shows Dumbledore such loyalty when in the Chamber of Secrets, for example.

But the flip side is, Harry despises Snape.  He doesn’t simply dislike him - he outright hates him.  Snape has unfairly picked on him from the moment that he arrived in his Potions classroom.  Throughout the series, even when presented with evidence to the contrary, Harry is convinced that Snape is a terrible man, and it must be a source of constant frustration to him that Dumbledore - wise, intelligent, savvy Dumbledore - has been taken in by a man who Harry is convinced is evil.

Out of all of the characters, Harry’s devastation at Snape’s betrayal is raw.  Unlike McGonagall and Slughorn and Hagrid et al, Harry is not devastated at the betrayal, because he didn’t believe that Snape was a good man.  Harry is devastated at Dumbledore’s fallibility.  Harry is devastated that it was so obvious to him that Snape was a bad man, and almost-perfect-wizard Dumbledore completely missed it.

Snape’s side is a little more complex, and his reaction is probably stronger than Harry’s.  We don’t know much about Snape’s time at Hogwarts as a student, but it’s plausible that he didn’t have much of a relationship with Dumbledore; I even think it’s fair to argue that he had a negative perception of Dumbledore, given the werewolf incident, the Gryffindor/Order aligned Marauders, and the fact that he was growing up in Slytherin, a pro-Voldemort environment.

When Snape defects, Dumbledore tells him that he’s disgusted with him - and you can’t imagine that Snape brushes it off that easily.  He pledges to be Dumbledore’s spy, and not only stays loyal to Dumbledore for the rest of the war, he then commits to stay true for many more years.  He stays at Hogwarts as a teacher, and seemingly becomes respected by his fellow staff members.  I think it’s fascinating to think about how Snape changed over those years, and how Dumbledore saw him grow from being the angry youth who aligned himself with the Death Eaters into a young man who his fellow teachers respect and accept as one of them.

I know fandom is rather split on Dumbledore’s attitude towards Snape, but the vital part - to me - is that Snape believes that his word has some sway with Dumbledore, even though we see in Harry’s years that he rarely gets his own way.  Snape isn’t shy at speaking his mind, whether in public or in private, and Snape clearly values Dumbledore - we can see this in how quickly Snape leaps to defend him on more than one occasion.  It is possible that Dumbledore didn’t have quite the affection for Snape that Snape had for him, but I think it’s important that Snape really does admire Dumbledore.

…and then in walks Harry.  Snape clearly antagonises Harry during their first lesson, and then their dislike never abates.  Harry sometimes behaves in a way that would be determined, from Snape’s perspective, as being outright malicious and disrespectful, even if the reader knows that wasn’t Harry’s intent.

And I wonder at how hard won Snape’s friendship with Dumbledore was.  For a boy who perhaps rarely had contact with the Headmaster during his student years, or who felt utterly maligned by the Headmaster following the Marauders’ antics, it must’ve been somewhat galling to see James Potter’s son seemingly following in his footsteps, getting away with murder and being liked and adored for it.  Snape, in comparison, spends years convincing the Headmaster that he’s not a lost cause, and is worthy of his time and praise - and Harry, who Snape sees as being lazy, arrogant and reckless, is immediately the Headmaster’s favourite for no apparent reason.

Fuelling this even more is Snape’s fury at Harry’s apparent failings.  There is truth in Snape’s words in Spinner’s End when Snape suggests that Harry has prospered through pure luck and more talented friends; to Snape, who values education, innovation and talent, Harry appears to coast through life without applying himself.  He doesn’t study hard, he doesn’t invent spells, he doesn’t research - and I think Snape is left stalking his dungeon and wondering how this useless boy is going to defeat the Dark Lord when Dumbledore…Albus Dumbledore…cannot.  I do not think it is a mistake that we witness Snape’s disdain at Harry’s retort at ‘ghosts are transparent’ - it is a key moment in Snape being burdened by the truth that Dumbledore has to die, Snape has to go undercover, and The Chosen One can barely explain the definition of a ghost.

When Snape demands answers of Dumbledore a short time later - when Snape seemingly erupts in a jealous fit in the forest at the end of Half Blood Prince and wants to know what Dumbledore is telling Harry but isn’t telling him - I am certain that Snape is confident that Harry will fail in his quest to defeat the Dark Lord.  When that happens, with Dumbledore long dead, Snape needs to know what to do to pick up the pieces and defeat Voldemort in their absence.  

Frankly, both of those scenes (Snape’s demand, and Dumbledore’s reveal) are criminally under analysed in fandom.

Interestingly, Snape and Harry go on slightly different journeys at the end of Half Blood Prince.  Harry is wrapped up in the idea of Dumbledore being wrong, and Snape betraying him.  Snape is wrapped up in the way that Dumbledore treated Harry, and how it was apparently fake.  No longer does Snape feel that Harry has usurped his place as the favoured son, but Snape now believes that both he and Harry have been misled and lied to all along - that the affection that Dumbledore showed Harry, that the love that Snape wanted that seemingly Harry got instead was…well, apparently not legitimate.

Of course, the reader later learns that Dumbledore did love Harry, and that Dumbledore’s presentation to Snape was merely a case of keeping Harry safe - of giving Snape enough information so he didn’t desert his duty whilst ensuring that the real truth was kept silent.  

But it adds another beautifully complex layer to that final year.  There is also a horrible irony that Harry believed that Snape had betrayed Dumbledore, and Snape believed that Dumbledore had betrayed Harry…but the stark truth - that nobody realises until the very final moment - is that the real betrayal was Dumbledore’s betrayal of Snape.  Poor Severus indeed.