Relationship between Clary and jace:
*passionate kisses, hugs, confessing love at least 689 times, constantly kissing each others God damn faces, holding hands, cuddling, ready to sacrifice themselves for each other *
Magnus and alec:
wow Magnus, how did u learn so many languages im impressed
As it happens, there were several fun questions and we expect to answer more of them in future. We’ll also keep accepting new questions, so do send yours across. Today, though, let’s start with Duncan Taylor’s charming query.
The books stored in Duke Humfrey’s Library are amongst the oldest in our archives, and certainly those we have been looking after the longest. Many of these books have been a part of the collection since the Bodleian opened in 1602, back when we held only 2,500 books or so, and nothing like the 12 million items in our archives today.
At that time, the books and manuscripts were classified with just four shelfmarks, denoting which part of the collection they belonged to, and where they should be shelved.
The subject of medicine was marked Med., while books on jurisprudence were marked Jur. All things theology were marked Th., and art was marked, super-simply, with Art.
The location for Mr. Potter’s misadventure was the Arts End of Duke Humfrey’s Library. Those books, therefore, are those on the subject of art as we classified them in 1602. Most of these books date back to the very first days of the Bodleian as we know it.
You’ll see that the books are chained to the shelves. This was quite normal when the Bodleian opened, and we still keep a demonstration chain in place to show visitors how the chaining system worked. Books are precious, and the chains were an early way to try to prevent their theft.
Since the filming of The Philosopher’s Stone there has been some reorganisation, thanks to the renovation of The Weston Library, which lies across the road from Duke Humfrey’s. Even since then, however, Arts End remains home to Special Collections items with Art. and Th. shelfmarks. When you visit Duke Humfrey’s today, you’ll be seeing the same historical books that young Harry Potter did.
The problem is, I get this feeling and I don’t know how to put it into words. does that make me a bad writer? I want to write about that feeling I get when I close my eyes and take a deep breath and about the rapturous coolness that flows through my body and gives me the chills. Standing outside staring into an endless oblivion of morning sunshine and hills of soft green grass fill me with this great sadness that I crave so deeply. It is sweet and embracing and like taking a dip in a pool on a hot summer’s day. It’s like coming up for fresh air. It’s like staring out at a city I yearn to know, in awe of the dawn’s sun warming the cold winter morning with a cup of coffee in my hand and a lover to the side of me. It’s when I am in a coffee shop and all I can smell is the smell of coffee that demands to be smelled. It’s feeling the warmth of the coffee cup as I stare out at beautiful people and the beautiful morning. The simple hustle and bustle of everyday life. It’s like being in a library or bookstore, surrounded by millions of books and I feel exactly where I need to be and things just CLICK. It’s when everything is like it is in the movies and music videos and it’s all a perfect cliché. It’s everything. It’s so wild, yet it is my only calm. It feels like home, and winter, and sweet kisses of sadness, and morning sunlight, and the smell and taste of coffee that insists to be smelled and tasted. It’s that feeling that is the feeling that I feel when I feel most alive. It’s the feeling that I love to feel.
Dean is aging every day and Castiel can see it in the fine lines when he smiles, the way his eyes crinkle. Every day there’s another line forming and Castiel can see it. Every single one of them. He sees the first small gray hair that starts at the root of Dean’s hair. He doesn’t think Dean can see it, at first, but after a week Dean begins parting his hair differently. Castiel cannot see the single gray strand anymore, until there is a small bundle of them.
With each waking day, Dean’s hands begin to ache in the places that strains when he holds his gun. He pretends not to care, but Castiel knows. He can read Dean like a book he’s read a million times.
Castiel stays the same. Humanity caught up with his vessel in the short while he had no grace, yet now he seems to have stopped aging once again. He stays young while Dean’s knees ache. Small touches let Castiel ease the pain, and Dean catches on to what he is doing. He says thank you with his eyes, that still sparkle a beautiful sage color. The love Castiel has for Dean never dulls, but only deepens the more Dean let’s him heal.
It seems, eventually Dean wants to skip out on hunts. His bones throb too badly, or he’s catching yet another cold. Sam notices, too, but says nothing. It’s inevitable. Dean is much older than Sam is, and not as nimble anymore. Castiel always stays with Dean. Just in case.
Sometimes Dean will let Castiel sit with him while he watches the latest game on television. Usually Dean will fall asleep by halftime, never able to sleep well at night. His head always ends up on Castiel’s shoulder, beer slipping through his fingers that once held it tightly. Castiel puts the beer on the coffee table, and maneuvers to lean back enough for Dean’s head to rest comfortably on his chest. Castiel has no heartbeat for Dean to listen to, but placing a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder lets him pulse power through Dean’s veins, easing any ache or pain. Dean always sleeps better this way. It seems to give him a little bit more life that way.
Dean does not like it when Castiel heals him of his aches. “They let me know I’m still human, Cas. Just let me ache. That’s why they invented Advil.” Dean will say, giving Castiel a glare. But Dean always comes to Castiel at night, or comes to get him when the Advil won’t help his restless leg syndrome, or ease the throb of his nerves enough to get a few un-solid hours. Castiel is always more than willing to place that firm hand on Dean, watching him sleep peacefully like he deserves after a lifetime of restless nights.
“Let me heal you, Dean.” Castiel demands, watching the man he loves practically decay on the sofa. Dean had insisted on going to a hunt with Sam, and had sprained a few bones. They were not healing, and it had been over a week. “Please.” Castiel begs.
“No, Cas.” Dean repeats over and over. Castiel doesn’t care. Dean isn’t quick enough to dodge Castiel’s hand as if clamps around his ankle. It’s healed within seconds, and Dean is angry at him once more. “Damnit Cas!” Dean jerks his leg away, and glares red hot towards Castiel.
“I don’t understand, Dean!” Castiel barks back at him, “You can go on hunts all you want if you just let me heal you when you come back.”
“That’s not how life is supposed to work, Cas. I go on a hunt and I get hurt, if I die from it then that’s how it needs to be! No more loopholes, Cas. I’m gettin’ old, I know it, you know it, Sam knows it. Shit happens, and nature takes its course. It can’t do that if you keep interrupting it!”
“It sounds as though you want to die,” Castiel says dully, and blunt.
“Maybe I do.” Dean says quietly, hardly shocking Castiel. “I’ve lived a long life, saved a lot of people and then some. I’m alright with it.”
Castiel can’t cry, but if he could then he would be sobbing. He can feel it inside, how sad he is. “Dean, I’m not alright with it. My whole purpose of being is because of you. Every day before you, I simply waited for the day. And every day after, I was living for you and fighting for you. There was never a moment I was doing something that wasn’t for you in some way. If you’re gone, what am I supposed to live for?”
“Live for Sammy, Cas. He needs someone, too, you know.”
“Dean, as soon as you’re gone Sam is going to go back to a normal life. And you know that.”
Dean shakes his head, “I don’t want you to interfere anymore, Cas.”
Castiel nods a final nod, and says nothing the nights he still eases Dean’s pains when Dean calls for him. The days go by quickly, as do the seasons. He is worse in the winter, and soon he hardly moves from his worn spot on the sofa.
Castiel leaves Sam with him a single day, saying they need him briefly in Heaven. Dean smiles at him and says he’s happy Cas is off doing angelic things for once. Castiel smiles back and Sam nods. He knows Castiel’s plan.
Castiel comes back over a day later, and Dean is asleep in his bed. When Castiel enters, Dean stirs and reaches for him. He must be hurting again. Castiel gets down to his briefs and slides in bed with Dean, the single brush of skin easing all of Dean’s pains. He relaxes entirely against Castiel. Dean feels very hot, and clammy.
“Are you sick again?” Castiel asks worriedly.
“Yeah,” Dean grunts. “I went out for a drive and got caught in the rain. I think it’s the flu,” Dean grumbles. Castiel brushes a soft hand over his forehead and dulls the fever. “Thanks,” Dean says softly. Castiel is thrown off by the acceptance but says nothing. Dean begins talking. He’s somewhere between sleep, stuck in a limbo. “I am gettin’ scared, every day.” He admits in the quiet air of the bedroom. “Once my light goes out, that’s it. No more chances like I’m used to.”
Castiel interrupts softly. “I could give you another, Dean. We can age together, this next time. If you let me.” There’s a pleading tone in Castiel’s voice that Dean can recognize.
“No, Cas. I need to be a man about this.” Dean grumbles, head rolling to rest on Castiel’s pale chest. “I’m just scared of where I’m going. I always thought death would be easy, that I’d die out on a hunt. It’d be quick, maybe not painless, but I thought it would happen so fast the fear wouldn’t set in. But dying of old age? Slow like this? Every day, man. I can feel it. I’m gettin’ closer. Every time I’m sick it’s like death is just looming, beggin’ me to go to sleep so it can take me. It gives me time to think about it, and the fear gets bad. I hate bein’ scared. I’m scared I’m goin’ to hell, or purgatory again. Or get stuck in the void like Kevin did. I wanna go to Heaven, and be with Bobby and Ellen and Jo.” Castiel faintly realizes Dean is crying silently, tears pooling beneath Dean’s cheek.
“In Heaven,” Castiel begins. “I talked to some of my superiors.” Dean ‘mm-hmms’, quietly. “They would not take my grace, so my age would catch up. But I reserved you a spot, right where you want to be. And I will escort you myself. Not a reaper, or a demon. Me, and I will hide nothing from you. I will hold your hand the whole way.” The love Castiel has for this man is swelling hugely in his vacant chest, and if Castiel could cry he would cry for love.
Dean’s fingers skim past Castiel’s chest to grab his hand. The hold is limp, and weak. Castiel’s worry is at its highest, and he feels the desperate need to go yell for Sam.
Somehow, Sam senses Castiel’s desperation. He barges into the room, eyes wide with worry. Castiel and Sam’s eyes meet and the words don’t need to be spoken.
“Dean?” Sam asks, walking to his brother. Dean let’s out a small moan of acknowledgement, and faintly tells Sam he loves him. The grip on Castiel’s hand is slightly stronger when Dean finds the energy to kiss Castiel’s chest, the words unspoken but there. Castiel wraps fingers through Dean’s damp hair and holds him close.
Sam is crying silent tears and holds back a sob by biting his fist.
Dean goes quietly, in his sleep. Castiel slips from underneath him and makes sure to tuck him in as he goes to console Sam, who has aged as well, but is still young and healthy. Death won’t take him as quickly if he begins to settle down. Castiel makes sure to tell him this.
Castiel explains his plan to Sam over once more. He’s going to lead Dean to Heaven himself. He’s going to be with Bobby and Ellen and Jo. Just like he wanted. Castiel will be there, too, and he will be down whenever Sam prays to him. And if Sam wants, Castiel will walk him through the veil, too.
Castiel’s conversation is interrupted by Dean. A Dean Sam cannot see, but yet the same Dean he knows. Dean has a worried look in his eye, watching Sam cry silent tears. Castiel tells Sam it’s time, and gives him a large hug goodbye. He pleads for Sam to go find a woman, and settle down and have kids. Go back to Stanford. It’s possible. Sam promises he will try, and that he will pray often.
Castiel takes Dean’s hand and vanishes. The veil is shadows and daylight mixing together, like oil and water. Mixing but never becoming one. Dean holds Castiel’s hand tightly, fingers laced. Castiel steps through a very certain strand of daylight. Dean covers his eyes when it becomes too bright.
They’re at Bobby’s. It takes Dean a single moment to blink and look around. Ellen comes from the kitchen, stirring something in a pot.
“Heya, boys. Just in time for supper.”
That night, Castiel holds Dean close. Dean let’s him. After all, they’re stuck in a piece of Heaven where no one dies, aches, or bleeds. Despite Dean’s healthy bones, Castiel still caresses Dean’s body just like before.
Eh, it’s sad that The Promise didn’t do well at the box office, but as the actors pointed out on the campaign trail: “Armenian Genocide” was always going to be a tough sell with audiences conditioned to like comic books and fun escapism.
Spending $100 million on it was, perhaps, not the best of ideas.
is he overhyped, though? probably. but that’s hardly a fandom problem; he stars in 7 out of 10 books and is the namesake of the entire series and fandom. it’s a little bit ludicrous to blame the self-identified pjo fandom for overhyping its titular character.
“Daddy never had a feuding thing with her… She came to the house for dinner.” – Ava Astaire, responding questions about whether or not her father, Fred Astaire, “hated” Ginger Rogers, at a 2008 fan club event in Oxford, UK.
“I do know that, despite things that have been written, Daddy and Ginger had great respect for each other and liked working together. Perhaps they weren’t great social friends, they had their own lives, but they certainly did not fight. I remember Ginger coming to the house in Beverly Hills and all of us eating in the casual day room rather than the formal dining room.” – Ava Astaire, in a 2011 article for the opening souvenir program of Top Hat the Musical.
heres the problem i have with book stans: they get so hung up on the smallest and most irrelevant changes that the show made and then ignore the millions of improvements.
like, have u ever seen a book stan complain about the blatant biphobia in the books? the misogynistic writing of girls as catty and rude? the lack of diversity whatsoever, and the terrible treatment of the few nonwhite characters??
the show improves on every issue! im not saying the show is perfect, because there are still problematic plotlines that spurred lots of discussion. but here’s the thing: the writers actually listen. unlike cassandra clare, who insults and threatens to sue people who criticize her books, the writers hear our complaints and actively work to improve on what they’re lacking.
but book stans want to complain about luke being a cop, or alec being the head of institute, or simon not having a bow. do they care that luke is now a strong, dynamic black man who acts as a father figure and mentor for others? do they care that alec’s relationship is immensely healthier and he doesn’t accuse magnus of having slept with everyone on earth simply because he’s bi? do they care that simon’s jewish heritage is respectfully and consistently included?
no, they don’t. because to them, shadowhunters isn’t about diversity or empowerment or representation. it’s about the cliches that the books are riddled with and their “gay trash babies” or whatever the fuck they want to call the horrendously unhealthy book variations of magnus and alec.
 I just got into your Villain!Izuku AU (It's a blessing) and I'm hung up on the gag about Izuku's quirk being genre savvyness and how that would work. The main question being, is Izuku aware his reality is a comedy or does he make his reality a comedy? Quasi-Omniscient perception of the rules of the universe, or very specific probability manipulation? Where the most humorous/impossible outcome becomes inevitable whenever Izuku's around...
 And then would that be a passive ability or is he picking the outcome? If it’s passive he’d basically be playing headgames with his own quirk, which would be hilarious, and if anyone decided to play on his level they’d have the same advantage (with the fun bonus that their ridiculous strategies come crashing down out of Izuku’s range. Active probability manipulation isn’t really genre savvyness, but could just as cool, especially if there were appropriately arbitrary limitations…
 Like his quirk can only make something more likely proportionate to how humorous it is. Or to how unlikely it was- he can’t do anything to 50/50 odds, can give a decent boost to a 10 or 25% chance, but something like a 0.000003%? You better believe it’s happening. (Kind of like that bit in some Pratchett books where a 1 in a million chance always works out, 1 in 999,999 or 1 in 1000001 you’re fucked, but if it’s 1 in a million? It’s happening)…
 There’s also the option that it’s just regular probability manipulation, and Izuku’s such a little shit he uses it exclusively to make ridiculous things work out. That’s not really so much genre savvyness anymore but it seemed in character to me. This is a lot of rambling over something inconsequential but thanks for your cool au I love it! I only actually have a general understanding of probability bye.
i honestly don’t know how a genre-savviness quirk would work, but all of these sound plausible and hilarious. i love the idea of izuku’s quirk being a passive ability, wherein his mere presence is enough to change the story from a shounen action manga into a comedy. he’s not even trying to cause it, this just naturally happens around him, and he’s simply taken full advantage of the chaos he causes. ideal
active probability manipulation is even funnier because this suggests that izuku could potentially do anything, be a great hero, establish himself in any number of personas, and he uses it to make sure that his glitter bomb traps will work. and i think that’s incredible
Anonymous said: if villain izuku’s quirk is being genre savy, I imagine him in a glaringly obvious disguise but no one notices
this is one of my favorite things that anyone has ever suggested to me about villain!izuku. yes
it also made me consider something else for izuku’s quirk though. what if instead of being genre savvy, izuku’s quirk is more like… saiki’s brainwashing power… he can change your perception of things and events, so you think of crazy events as not a big deal. he uses his quirk to make people overlook the fact that he’s setting up a prank – they walk right by like it’s the most normal thing in the world – and then izuku drops the effects of his quirk. chaos. everyone is in disbelief that they didn’t notice
donald trump: “people don’t ever ask why there was a civil war…”
me: *spent entire semesters in classes about the causes of the civil war, taught by historians who have lifelong careers centered around understanding the causes and long term implications of the civil war*