cathartic or something

I’m currently sitting on the floor of my room sobbing because I just listened to @lordemusic’s pure heroine start to end for the first time in months and. it HURTS, I remember so distinctly all the feelings and memories I wove through each song, from the day it came out, and that album CARRIED me through high school! and now I’m older and the colours and imagery is so much more vivid and mixed with nostalgia it is so good and bittersweet to listen to, and it still wraps me like a blanket but now it feels foreign because I know that I am in such a different space, and the quiet days running the suburban streets late at night are now far behind me… I think, in essence, it now captures how much growing up hurts and I am experiencing growing pains (emotionally)

Cute Librarian - Jason Todd x Reader

Prompt: What about Jay coming home to his SO rearranging their bookcase(s)? Like IDK if they got bored, tired of the mess, or are in need of something cathartic, but Jay just comes home to them surrounded with stacks of books and he starts helping. Good old fashioned domestic bookworm fluff

Jason was welcomed home to a loud crash sounding out in the other room. Immediately he was on edge, ready to defend himself.

“Fuck! Seriously?” You groaned out from the same direction that the loud noise came from. Jason’s guard lowered and shook his head in amusement at you. He wasn’t even close to prepared to the sight he would see when he turned the corner.

You were sitting amongst stacks upon stacks of books cross legged as collected the books that had just fallen out of their stack. You were in your most comfortable sweats and one of Jason’s oversized hoodies with your hair carelessly thrown into a messy bun. It was the most beautiful sight that Jason had ever seen.

“What are you doing?” He asked with a chuckle.

“I’m trying to sort our books. I was trying to find Pride and Prejudice the other and I couldn’t find it so I figured I’d make some sort of sense out of our collections so that I don’t have to search too hard ever again.” You replied cheerily as you sorted the books into whatever system you had come up with.

Our collection?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah our collection. I figured I’d marry our collections! I’m over here enough that it just makes sense. Don’t you want to have a collection large enough to rival that of Bruce Wayne?” You asked temptingly. Something ached deep in Jason’s thought at the thought of you being committed enough to want to leave all of your books at his place. He liked the idea of the two of you settling down like this more than he’d care to admit.

“You hate it don’t you?” You asked after Jason didn’t respond. Your voice sounded hurt and rejected.

“No, no! It’s not that! I love that you’re moving your collection here it’s just … shouldn’t we be living together before you go and mess with how I organize my books?” He asked.

“I was kind of hoping this would be a big enough hint that I wanted to take that next step with you.” You admitted, toying at the indented script at the spine of his copy of Crime and Punishment. Jason found himself a place to sit amongst all the books and took your hand in his, gently squeezing to get your attention.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” He said.

“Really?” You asked. Jason nodded in response. You let out an excited squeal and threw yourself at him. Jason was knocked backwards at the force of your embrace and he fell on a pile of books, causing them to slide everywhere. He was pretty sure it was your worn copy of The Canterbury Tales that was stabbing him in the back right now. Any thoughts of discomfort fell away when you started peppering his face with kisses.

“Hey babe?” He asked when he attempted to shift his body to a more comfortable position only to have three more books painfully press themselves against his back.

“Yeah?” You asked, completely unaware.

“I love you but I’m pretty sure Moby Dick is halfway up my ass right now.” Jason said, wincing slightly.

“Oh!” You cried, immediately getting off of him. “Sorry.” You apologized sheepishly. Jason sat up and pushed a strand of hair that had fallen out of your bun behind your ear.

“It’s alright, really. So how are we sorting these?” Jason asked looking around at the seemingly mismatched piles of books.

“I’ve been sorting them by genre and then alphabetizing them by author.” You explained.

“What was wrong with the system I was using?” Jason asked. You snorted in response and continued on with the section that you were sorting before Jason got home.

“Jay. You had no system. You had the Kamasutra next to Lord of the Flies and fucking Metamorphosis next to the Anna Karenina. I’m pretty sure that defies so many laws of nature.” You criticized.

“Everything had it’s place and I knew it’s place. It worked out.” He defended with a casual shrug.

“Can we try it my way for now?” You asked.

“Of course.”

im-a-closet-narnian  asked:

Can you please write a lil something about drunk marauders + Lily? With a little jily and wolfstar if it fits? ❤

this is probably, like, not what you had in mind, but here you go babe:

  • sixth year, may. 
  • another attack.
  • at least they think it’s another attack.
  • the prophet is shit on a good day, and this morning is no exception. nothing. a fifth year gryffindor girl was pulled out of school the day before, though, so the whispers are rampant.
  • the whispers grow all day, and even after james has tried to distract himself with his broomstick, and chess, and the match, he jumps when the evening prophet owl taps at the common room window.
  • he flips to page 7. the obits.
  • always look in the obituaries, that’s what they’ve learned. (the evening prophet didn’t even used to run them, but there are too many, any more, to keep them limited to one edition.)
  • and, yeah. seven people, all from the same town. two families. no cause of death mentioned, 
  • but they know.
  • the worst part is–aside from the girl’s parents, and her younger brother–is her older brother.
  • because they know him. he was three years above them. former prefect. decent bloke. he and james played quidditch together. he’s waving at them, oblivious and unknowing. cheerful. it’s perverse. 
  • it makes james want to throw up. he runs upstairs to grab ogden’s instead. reckless, but who’s going to stop him?
  • lily’s not stupid. she saw the prophet come, and the boys pale. 
  • it’s not like she’s been dropping any eaves, but they weren’t exactly quiet about it, were they?
  • and lily wants to throw up, because she knew it was another attack. she knew it the moment mcgonagall had her fetch sarah from her potions class. 
  • and sarah knew, too. that walk to mcgonagall’s office was the worst she’s ever had to endure.
  • she’s tutored sarah in charms for the entire term, and her entire family is gone. what will happen to her now?
  • she watches potter return with an ogden’s-shaped-bottle stuffed not so discretely under a crumpled copy of transfiguration today.
  • they make eye contact, and he raises his chin, defiant. 
  • like she’s going to report him? when has she ever?
  • she mimes taking a swig.
  • it’s not her place, right? to intrude. but it looks, frankly, damn appealing. rude to drink in the common room and not share.
  • lily doesn’t even say anything to her mates, she just crosses the common room and plops down next to peter on the sofa.
  • her mates, though, who have either pretended not to watch this entire thing unfold, or shamelessly watched it with rapt fascination, follow closely behind.
  • sirius produces mugs from nowhere, the bastard, making a loud, unsubtle comment about hot choclate for all. and remus, the bastard, fills their mugs nearly to overflowing with some brilliant refilling charm. and potter, the bastard, charms each of their mugs to actually look like hot chocolate. peter adds marshmallows and steam. for affect, he says. the bastard.
  • how often have they done this?
  • it doesn’t matter, because lily can’t get sarah’s face out of her head, or her chattering voice, or her brilliant smile with slightly crooked teeth. 
  • lily wonders about her dog, who she mentioned in every lesson, and her little sister, who constantly rummages through sarah’s things, and whether sarah will be beating herself up for every tirade she’d ever given about her little sister, or if she’ll ever smile that brilliant little smile again.
  • it’s her brother’s smile. lily sees him smiling up from the prophet.
  • her dad’s smile, too.
  • and james potter reaches over from his armchair and steadies her hand. she’d been shaking so hard it was sloshing on the armrest.
  • she smiles weakly. 
  • drink, evans.
  • cheers, she says, and they clink mugs, and down them in one gulp.
  • not one gulp, because who could actually do that?
  • but they keep refilled, and that’s what matters.
  • i am scared to go home.
  • lily is the first to admit it, but everyone echoes the sentiment. all of them. even james. he’s not saying it to soothe her.
  • he means it. he’s scared, too.
  • what the fuck are we going to do? dorcas asks.
  • and no one knows the answer to that, but remus mutters something and their drinks refill again.
  • lily starts tellling them about sarah. her family, and the dog, and the little sister. james fills in the blanks with anectodes about the brother. david.
  • david.
  • lily had been trying to remember his name all damned day, and it was absurd that she should know it–she never even talked to him, except once in her first week when she’d gotten hopelessly lost and he’d helped her find her class–but she’d been beating herself up about it all day.
  • his name was david and he was sarah’s older brother and he loved treacle tart and he was a decent flyer and his broomstick’s name was jezebel.
  • it doesn’t take it away, talking about all of this, but there’s something cathartic about it. giving voice to them. more than a shit obituary.
  • lily’s gran told her, once, that people died twice. once, when they breathed their last. second, when their name was spoken out loud for the last time. she says this to her friends, and then she reads: diedra wallace. the mother. and michael wallace, sarah’s father.
  • she starts to say isabel, but she gets stuck. dorcas says it for her.
  • james says david’s name. his middle name isn’t printed in the obit, but james knew it, apparently. andrew.
  • dorcas reads a little blurb about sarah, that she’s going to go live with relatives. the location isn’t printed. obviously.
  • lily remembers something about a muggle aunt, just outside london. she always gave sarah spending money for school, even though it was a world she could never see or be a part of.
  • will she be back at school? maybe that’s for the best if she isn’t.
  • they speculate, then, about whether she’ll come back, and what they’ll do that summer, and next year, and after.
  • no one has an answer, but james says something, and he buries the rest of the word in his cup.
  • they fall silent.
  • and it might be the light, or the three mugs of whisky she’s had, or the resolve in his voice. probably all of it.
  • but realizes she adores this boy, really and truly.
  • or that she wouldn’t mind adoring him.
  • something.
  • nothing else happens that night. the something summed up what they all felt, and what else was there to say?
  • no one might report them for drinking something questionable in the common room, but their arses will definitely be in hot water if they all show up hungover to class tomorrow, so they have one last toast to the wallaces and head to bed.

I don’t even know why I’m doing this to myself, but I decided to re-read some of the media stuff we got, just for kicks, because I’m like that, I enjoy analyzing words and whatever. 

A&E really need to stop talking about the show reinventing itself because no, it hasn’t, because they are creative cowards. I know, coward is a strong word to use, but I can’t come up with anything.

If anything, the show has not reinvented itself, it is stagnant and whenever they had the opportunity to reinvent the show, they decided to go the other way.

Keep reading

If you’re never sorry
Then you can’t be forgiven
If you’re not forgiven
Then you can’t be forgotten
If you’re not forgotten
Then you can live forever

Regina Spektor, “Pound of Flesh”

He was one of the unforgotten ones, not remembered – unforgotten. One of those wisps of epiphany, those sudden sadnesses that manifested in some poor soul. He drifted, and jostled past the more animate, more real beings. The transition between him and “it” had been gradual, lost somewhere between celestial dust bunnies, past lives, and packets of hair dye. Faces and memories pushed – jabbed - collided - past each other until he forgot who he was.

Keep reading

Hm… I’m actually debating whether or not to make a post discussing why I’m both infatuated with the ending while also interpreting / needing to interpret it as Seto being able to return. The problem is doing so directly challenges the other interpretation, and I don’t want to be a tyrant over what people draw happiness from. I sincerely feel people have a right to take away whatever they wish from fiction. I’d like a discussion, not “””discourse””“.

Also, I give Takahashi a giant A+ for crafting such an elegantly debatable ending.

I guess you can consider the above a sort of disclaimer. I have no intention of dictating the interpretations or emotions other fans carry, whether of the characters or the film. Everybody has reasons for why they feel as they do, and they’re absolutely entitled to those feelings. These are simply my own thoughts. I apologize if it seems dismissive. (Yes, I take this all far too seriously. What else is new?)

The end of the film can be interpreted a dozen different ways and as I’ve watched it be discussed up and down by various people, it’s apparent just how meticulously crafted the finale actually is. It was designed to stir speculation, and it’s achieved that goal beautifully. What’s aesthetic, what’s metaphorical, what’s literal?

Keep reading

Zack Snyder Steps Down From 'Justice League' to Deal with Family Tragedy

Superheroes have always been about doing the right thing in the hardest of circumstances. Now Zack Snyder, one of the biggest filmmakers in the genre and the director of Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice and the upcoming Justice League, finds himself in just such a situation.

Snyder tells The Hollywood Reporter he is stepping away from Justice League, Warner Bros.’ all-star DC Comics superhero mega-movie that is in post-production, in order to deal with the sudden death of his daughter. Snyder’s wife, Deborah Snyder, who is a producer on Justice League, also is taking a break to focus on the healing of their family.

Stepping in to shepherd the movie through post and the shooting of some additional scenes will be Joss Whedon, the Avengers filmmaker and creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. With Whedon’s help, the movie is still on track for its Nov. 17 release date.

Snyder’s daughter, Autumn Snyder, died by suicide in March at age 20. Her death has been kept private, with only a small inner circle aware of what happened, even as the movie was put on a two-week break for the Snyders to deal with the immediate effects of the tragedy. Zack Snyder says he initially was eager to return to the film, which stars Ben Affleck, Gal Gadot, Jason Momoa and Ezra Miller.

“In my mind, I thought it was a cathartic thing to go back to work, to just bury myself and see if that was way through it,” says an emotional Snyder in an interview Monday in his office on the Warner Bros. lot with Deborah sitting by his side. “The demands of this job are pretty intense. It is all consuming. And in the last two months I’ve come to the realization …I’ve decided to take a step back from the movie to be with my family, be with my kids, who really need me. They are all having a hard time. I’m having a hard time.”

The studio is fully behind the move. “What they are going through is unimaginable, and my heart - our hearts - go out to them, says Warner Bros. Pictures president Toby Emmerich.

One of the first things the studio floated was the possibility of pushing back the release date of the movie, but the Snyders decided against that suggestion. Warners also extended Snyder’s first-look deal to give him time to work on other planned projects when he returns to work. 

Snyder, after screening a rough cut of Justice League for fellow filmmakers and friends, wanted to add additional scenes, so he brought Whedon on board to write them. But as he prepared to shoot the scenes in England, Snyder realized it was not the time to leave home. "The directing is minimal and it has to adhere to the style and tone and the template that Zack set,” says Emmerich. “We’re not introducing any new characters. It’s the same characters in some new scenes. He’s handing a baton to Joss but the course has really been set by Zack. I still believe that despite this tragedy, we’ll still end up with a great movie.”

This isn’t the first time that Warners has had to deal with the unthinkable affecting a high-profile DC movie. In 2008, Heath Ledger passed away after shooting had wrapped for The Dark Knight but prior to the movie being finished and released. The tragedy put the studio and filmmaker Christopher Nolan in a very delicate position of balancing mourning with the demands of releasing a tentpole.

The Internet and comic book movie fans being what they are, Snyder already is anticipating what what some DC loyalists may think.

“Here’s the thing, I never planned to make this public,” he says. “I thought it would just be in the family, a private matter, our private sorrow that we would deal with. When it became obvious that I need to take break, I knew there would be narratives created on the internet. They’ll do what they do. The truth it…I’m past caring about that kind of thing now.”

The death of Autumn, Zack’s daughter from his first marriage (in addition to Autumn, he and Deborah have been raising seven kids and step-kids) has brought a new perspective and a new focus for him. “I want the movie to be amazing and I’m a fan, but that all pales pretty quickly in comparison,” he says. “I know the fans are going to be worried about the movie but there are seven other kids that need me,” he says. “ In the end, it’s just a movie. It’s a great movie. But it’s just a movie.

Autumn, who was attending Sarah Lawrence College, loved "to write, to write, to write,” says Deborah. Their daughter had written a sci-fi fantasy novel in the first person. It featured a character who was an outsider and who had trouble fitting in.

Deborah is holding on to the thought that she was the first person her daughter gave the book to read, even now as the story takes on a new meaning under the circumstances. “You’re heading her voice,” Deborah says, fighting back tears.  

The Snyders would like to someday see that manuscript published, with the proceeds going to a charity. “In the end, she didn’t make it, but her character does and I think there would be something cathartic for people,” says Zack.

The thought of his daughter’s writing prompts Zack to recall another memory. Autumn had a quote that she included in everything she wrote. (“Every. Single. Thing,” chuckles Zack). It’s from author Chris Palahniuk: “We all die. The goal isn’t to live forever, the goal is to create something that will.”

“Maybe this helps,” Zack says.

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Fic: I Am My Brother’s Keeper (Part 2 of 4)

By: @rarity-kasket

2.9k words, rated G

Being the son of Harry Potter isn’t easy and being the brother of James Sirius “Golden Boy” Potter doesn’t make it any better. However, as obnoxious as his brother can be, Albus wouldn’t trade him for the world. When Albus accidentally stumbles upon a secret, it threatens to break apart his already complicated and messy relationship with James.

Again, special thanks to @abradystrix and @autumn-of-ilvermorny being amazing human beings! 

Please click for Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Winter of 2019


Albus groans inwardly. James calling after him is the last thing that Albus wants to hear right now. He doesn’t look back, but instead, he quickens his pace down the corridor.  

“Hey, wait up!”

The sound of James’s footsteps picks up in rhythm with his own. When Albus decides to break into a sprint, a hand reaches out to grab him by the sleeve of his robe.

“Why the rush–woah, what happened to your eye, Al?” James exclaims as he studies Albus’s darkened left eye.

“It’s Albus, and it’s nothing.” Albus shrugs it off dismissively. “Now, if you would excuse me, I am very busy.”

“Yes, I’m very sure,” James says skeptically before his eyes study the bruise. He frowns, and his gaze makes Albus uncomfortable. “That looks like it hurts. You should get that checked out. Come on, let me walk you down to Madam Pomfrey.”  James reaches out to touch the soft bruise under Albus’s left eye before his brother flinches away, narrowing his emerald eyes into a distrustful glare.

“Don’t.” Albus snarls. James stares back at him, hurt.

“Albus, come on. At least, tell me who did this to you. Maybe I could–”

“I don’t need you defending my honor.”

“Merlin’s beard don’t be so bloody stubborn! I’m trying to help.” James says exasperatedly.

“What? You suddenly care what happens to me now?” Albus laughs bitterly. “Golden Boy Potter doing his one good deed of the day–”


“-by gracing the black sheep of the Potter Legacy with his presence. What did I ever do to deserve this?” Albus rails sarcastically.

“I’m just trying–”

Albus doesn’t let James get another word in.

“What do you want a gold medal? A pat on the back? A gold star? “ He replies nastily as he measures James with a dark and disdainful glare. “Please, the only thing you care about is yourself.”

James reels back in disbelief as if Albus has struck him across the face.

In that moment, it couldn’t be more obvious how far the two brothers have drifted apart.

“You can be really cruel sometimes,” James confesses.

“ Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean that you have to make everyone else around you miserable.“ James spits out before taking a few steps back. He turns away from Albus, and something seething and hot flares inside Albus.

“I’ve been getting by for three years without you. Don’t pretend that you care now.” Albus sneers, and he feels some sick and twisted satisfaction when he sees James flinch at the words before leaving Albus alone in the empty corridor.

The Present, Spring of 2025

As soon as the door swings open, Albus instantly regrets this decision to beg James for help. Is he really this desperate?

Upon seeing his brother, James grins, leaning coolly against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest.

“I can only assume that you’re here to finally admit your undying love for Scorpius Malfoy.”

Albus’s cheeks burn as he quickly breezes past James.

“Ha, funny. ” Albus replies drily before standing in James’s living room, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

“I guess you were right. Uh–that I need your help. Not the undying love part.” Albus adds quickly, and James cocks his head in mild amusement.

“I never thought I would see the day that Albus Severus Potter would actually come crawling to me for help.”

“I know it’s hard not to be an obnoxious prick every five minutes, but could at least you try?”

“I’m sorry. This moment is too beautiful.”

Albus sighs at  James’s infuriating grin.

“You know what, this is pointless.” Why did he even think coming to James would be a good idea? Albus crosses over to the door, but James easily catches him by the collar of his shirt.

“Relax, it was a joke. Let me help. I want to help. ” James claps his hands together and bats those dark lashes at Albus pleadingly. It’s the picture of innocence.

Honestly, this only makes Albus even more distrustful.

“You really want to help me?” Albus raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Seriously. Sit, make yourself comfortable.” James gestures to the sofa. “Did you come from class?”

“Yeah, uh, an introduction to psychology course. I have another class later.”  Albus says as he drops his backpack and notebook down on the sofa.  James wrinkles his nose at this.

“What do you plan to do after you graduate?” James asks curiously.

Albus shrugs. He hasn’t decided yet, despite the fact that he was quickly approaching the end of the year. However, there is this one particular class…

Introduction to Acting.

It was originally a course to fill an elective. He never actually expected to enjoy it so much. However, there is something cathartic about slipping away from reality for even a few moments, stepping into someone else’s world and seeing life in a completely new light. With a script in his hands, Albus slips away, and he is transformed into whatever he needs to be.

Currently, his lecturer is attempting to persuade Albus into auditioning for their fall production of Hamlet. He’s not entirely sure yet…

“Do you plan on working in the Muggle Investigation Department at the Ministry? I mean your experience would be useful there.”

Albus frowns as James pitches the idea of working for the Ministry. He would rather die than work at the Ministry of Magic with his father and his brother.

Albus doesn’t expect James or his family to fully understand his choice to attend a Muggle university after Hogwarts. Scorpius gets it, and he thinks his mother gets it too. In his classes, he’s not Harry Potter’s son. He doesn’t shrink in the shadow of the Potter Legacy. There, no one cares about where he comes from, and that is such a relief. To just be Albus.

“It’s not like I’m giving up magic completely.”

“I never said that,” James argues.

“You didn’t have to. I see it in your face.” Albus sighs. “Maybe coming over was a mistake.”

“No, you came to me for help. I want to do this for you.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m being naive. Scorpius doesn’t–he couldn’t…”

“He couldn’t what?”

Albus feels his face grow hot before dragging his hand over his face. Was James really going to make him say it out loud?

“He couldn’t possibly feel the same way.” The words make Albus’s chest constrict as if it’s almost painful to say it.

“You know this for sure?” James asks. His expression grows suddenly serious.

“I just know.”

“So you haven’t talked to him? You’re just assuming.”

“I’m not assuming.”

James sighs.

“I didn’t realize how thick you would be. Al, talk to him. Be honest with Scorpius about your feelings. You’ll never know unless you talk to him. I know it’s terrifying to put yourself out there in the deep end. I know you. You’re crazy stupid about Scorpius, so stop wasting your time and tell him, because being in love feels –” He falters. “–really great.”

There is a long pause of silence as Albus watches a pink-hued flush color James’s cheeks. His dark brown eyes glimmer with something quite melancholy. It’s not a reaction that he expects from James, whose lips are perpetually carved into a smile. His eyes always shine with mischief.

Why does he look like that? Before Albus opens his mouth to speak, there is a thin pop.

Teddy stands in the middle of James’s living room. He looks pleasantly surprised to see Albus.

“Oh hello there, Albus,” He greets, gracing him with a charming grin before he sits on the sofa beside him.  “James didn’t tell me that you would be stopping by. How is school?”

Albus cannot help the smile that is threatening to surface on his lips. Teddy has this way of waltzing into a room, making everything warm and welcoming and bright. Sometimes, Albus needs that.  

“Ugh, you’re so friendly. It’s gross.” James grumbles, rolling his eyes. He looks so childish as he sulks in the sofa with his arms folded over his chest. Teddy grins before he reaches over Albus to pinch James’s cheek.

“Is baby Jamie jealous? Not getting enough attention.” Albus laughs, and James’s face grows as scarlet as the Gryffindor chest from embarrassment as he tries to glare narrowly at Teddy.

“Teddy–stop!” James whines.

“No, I’m giving baby Jamie attention.” He smiles before crawling over a thoroughly amused Albus and wrestling James down on the sofa. They are a pair of flailing limbs and laughter. When James is pinned in a corner, Teddy ruffles James’s untidy hair and nuzzles their cheeks together. James squirms under Teddy’s weight. When he is freed, James glares half-heartedly at Teddy, the grin threatening to break on his lip betraying him.

“You’re the worst,” James tells Teddy, his brown eyes shimmering with something that Albus cannot quite decipher. He’s seen that shimmer before. He has caught his mother looking at their dad that way when she thinks no one is looking. It’s the same shimmer that Scorpius sometimes wears when he sits by their kitchen window quietly reading a new book to himself.

“I know.” A fond smile tugs on Teddy’s lips.  

Something passes between the two.


Albus thinks.

However, he doesn’t ponder on it too long. It’s a ridiculous notion.

He’s imagining things.

Clearing his throat, Albus stands before reaching for his messenger bag.

“I was actually on my way back to class now,” Albus says, and Teddy frowns.

“Aw, I just got here, and you’re already leaving–”

“He probably doesn’t want to be stuck here with you. I know I don’t want to be.” James quips. Teddy doesn’t say anything. Teddy simply smiles at James adoringly. When it is too much, James, red-faced, looks away.

“I should be leaving,”  Albus says. Teddy climbs off the sofa and crosses over to him. He smiles warmly.

“You’ll have to tell me all about school. Maybe without Jamie here trying to hog all the attention.” Albus smiles.

“Hey!” James tries to interject, but both Teddy and Albus ignore him.

“Yeah, okay. Soon.” With a pop, he is gone.

When Albus starts looking for his notebook before his next class, he realizes that he has left it at James’s flat. In his hasty exit, Albus only picked up his backpack.

How could he be so stupid as to leave his notes?

It’s no problem really, just an inconvenience.

Fine, he’ll apparate in quickly, grab his notebook, get out, and run to class.

Finding somewhere empty and hidden at the university, Albus apparates back to James’s flat.

In James’s flat, he finds his notebook wedged in between the sofa cushions. Relief floods his chest at the sight of it, and he quickly snatches up the notebook and stuffs it in his messenger bag. Albus prepares to apparate when he hears voices quietly wafting from the hallway.

“–I was thinking about last Sunday. It went so well. And then Albus being here earlier today…” Albus instantly recognizes Teddy’s voice.

Why is Teddy talking about him? Albus lingers at the edge of the hallway to listen to more. “Maybe–”

“This was your idea in the first place, and things are great this way.” This is undoubtedly James.

“I know, but things will be different after I get back from Romania. I’ll be more settled. I think Albus would understand if we told him. Maybe Harry and Ginny would understand. We could tell them together.”

“Um, no way. We are most definitely not telling my dad, the Savior of the Wizarding World and the Head of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic and your godfather! Do you have a death wish?”

There is a long pause, and Albus feels himself leaning in with great curiosity.

“Aren’t you tired of hiding? Are you even happy with the way things are?” Teddy speaks so faintly that Albus nearly misses it.

“They’re not going to understand.”

“It’s been a year,” Teddy says softly as Albus stands outside James’s open bedroom door.

“Over a year. A year and four months.” James corrects him.

Over a  year?

What does James feel like he needs to hide from him? From all of them?

Albus peers silently into the room.

James, with his arms defiantly crossed over his chest, stands in front of Teddy, who is sitting at the edge of the bed. The frown on James’s lips makes it evident that his brother would rather be anywhere than having this conversation. The two appear completely unaware of Albus’s hidden presence.

“Will you at least consider telling them?” Teddy pulls James closer to him; his hands rest lightly on James’s waist. In response, James weaves a hand through Teddy’s bright blue hair, and Teddy closes his eyes and smiles. His hair changes from bright blue to a beautiful dark magenta as James quietly plays in his hair. It looks so natural. They look so natural and so comfortable with each other.

After a while, James speaks quietly.

“I just don’t want them to hate me,” James wears that same melancholy glimmer in his eyes from earlier, and Albus wants nothing more than to reach out for James, but he doesn’t know how. He needs to reassure James that they could never hate him. Albus could never hate him, but he wouldn’t know the words to say. Albus is rooted to the floor by his own cowardice.  

James’s statement makes Teddy open his eyes. He looks at James, so open and so warm.

“James Sirius Potter, look at me.” Ever so slowly, James’s gaze meets Teddy’s, glossy and wet.

“They could never hate you. I don’t think that Harry and Ginny have an unkind bone in their body. I just– I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide a piece of yourself from them.” His voice is just as open and warm and soft as the way he looks at James. His brother’s face grows flushed under Teddy’s gaze, and his hand slips out of Teddy’s hair, gently tracing along the curve of his neck.

James crawls up on the bed, his knees on either side of Teddy’s hips and his hands on Teddy’s shoulders to steady himself. James leans his forehead against Teddy’s and closes his eyes.

They stay like this for a long moment before Teddy walks two fingers up James’s arm, and for some reason, this makes his brother’s lips curve into a soft smile.

James murmurs something too quietly for Albus to hear. Whatever it is, it makes Teddy laugh earnestly before he leans in, pressing their mouths other.

The sheer shock of the kiss is enough to make Albus drop his journal.

At the soft thud of the notebook hitting the floor, Teddy and James quickly spring apart to find Albus gawking in the doorway.

James’s expression is one of astonishment before melting into pure annoyance.

“What are you doing here?” James demands. His sudden hostility takes Albus off guard. He is used to James’s easy-going smiles and mischievous smirks.

“I- uh came back for this…” Albus quickly scrambles to grab the leather notebook. Teddy looks over at James, concerned.

“James–” Teddy starts.

James stands, dragging a hand over his face. “I need to talk to Albus. Alone.”

Teddy stands too. When he reaches out to touch James, the other shrinks away from him. Teddy appears hurt.

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I know.”

Teddy looks unconvinced, but he sighs before turning to Albus, who stares at the scene numbly. Teddy opens his mouth to say something to Albus before shutting it and apparating out.

Neither of the Potter brothers say anything but linger in a tense silence.

Albus is lost for words.

Every exchange between Teddy and James is bathed in a new light, like watching the colorful pieces of a kaleidoscope break apart and come together in new shapes. Suddenly, every sentence that was spoken, every glance that was shared, and every casual touch takes on a new meaning.

Albus feels the world shifting from under his feet.

His brother and Teddy, their godbrother.

“Teddy and you?” Albus asks, his mind processing this new revelation.  James ignores the question.

“Albus, listen, that wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Really? What exactly is going on between Teddy and you?” Albus snaps.

James dodges Albus’s inquisitive stare.

“Teddy and I are–” James falters, screwing his eyes shut and taking in a shuddering breath before opening his eyes again. “That was nothing,” he finishes lamely.

“It didn’t look like nothing. Whatever I just witnessed was most definitely not nothing.”


“James, I’m not an idiot. I would appreciate it if you would not treat me like one.”  Albus says, feeling his temper flare as James’s inability to simply be honest with him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” James denies, starting for the door and shoving past Albus, who manages to catch the sleeve of his shirt.

“Please James, I just want the truth.”

“Alright, you want the truth? There is nothing between Teddy and me.”  

“You’re such a hypocrite. You’re preaching to me about being honest, and you don’t even have the decency to tell me the truth.”

“Al, I said it was nothing, and you’re not going to say anything to anyone because you saw nothin–”

“No, I saw you snogging with Teddy. Our godbrother. Teddy and you. What the bloody hell James?”

James tears his arm out of Albus’s grip. “I don’t need your judgement!” he snaps.

Albus is bewildered by James’s comments. “Judgement? I’m trying to–”

“You can leave now.”


“You heard me. This conversation is over.”


“Get. Out.”

“Just let me–”


Albus explodes, “Fine!”

With his notebook, Albus apparates out of James’s flat and back to class.

anonymous asked:

Helping their kids deal with being dumped.

vader: is very patient and a good listener. gives lots of hugs and sympathizes with how they are feeling, never judging them for a moment. 

sidious: the ex is now an enemy of the republic and will be hunted down. no mercy. pain only makes you stronger.

maul: suggests that they turn their pain into something productive, like working out or other cathartic activities. something to release the anger and hurt. he never judges them for crying, because crying is a good way to release pent-up emotions.

savage: at first he is seriously ready to go and rip the head off of the person who dumped them (that’s not exaggerating, he WILL do it), but after seeing his kid look so depressed he decides it’s better to just stay and comfort them. he’s still pissed AF, but he’s content to sit and watch sappy movies while his kid cries into their ice cream.

asajj: definitely will trash-talk their ex, since she is the queen of salt. constantly reminds her child of how beautiful and perfect they are, no matter what anyone says. encourages them to get together with their friends, or talk to her if they ever need anything.

dooku: “i knew s/he was a peon from the moment i met them”. quickly realizes that’s not the best thing to say and just listens to them, helping them move on by repairing their self-worth (”you are a bright star in this galaxy, dear one. surround yourself with those who wish to shine with you.”)

kylo: he’s not the best at handling breakups himself, but that means he’ll never judge his kid for feeling what they are feeling. proceeds to throw a campfire party where they burn all the stupid things that have to do with their ex: photos, printed-out texts, you name it. let it all burn and rise like a phoenix!!

nihilus: can very much empathize with the feelings of betrayal. gently takes them aside to watch movies or do something to distract from the hurt. secretly goes to their ex’s house to suck the life from them

grievous: he honestly has no idea how to deal with something like this, but no matter what he will never leave his child’s side. grievous may not know what to say in this situation (he can sense that encouraging violence doesn’t help, which is what he’d usually do), but he’ll provide whatever they need. ice cream? you betcha. blankets? on it. tissues? already got three boxes.

tattooeyes  asked:

Ok you've probably answered this before and/or dont want to talk about it but im curious so i have to ask. Why do you hate Joyce so much? Everyone i ask seem to have valid yet different reasons so i'm curious which ones are your reasons. Ty!

normally i wouldn’t want to explain it again but i dig you dali and all the links i had to my previous answers to this question no longer exist… so. uh. yeah. i can’t really back out of it this time. damn. here we go 

joyce summers is, in my opinion, a crappy mom. she kicked buffy out of the house for being a slayer, selfishly forced buffy to care for her while she had her brain tumor just because she “wanted to go home”, and (this one is more conjecture than anything else) seemed to prefer dawn to buffy in an overall favortism sort of way. i don’t like to go so far as to call her an abusive parent, because that tends to set people off, but she’s just… not a good mom. she’s the best parental figure on the show, but that doesn’t say a whole lot, does it 

silly birdflash sleepover headcanons

a. Wally frequently hosted sleepovers with Dick when they were younger and they would play videogames into the wee morning hours (obviously used to being awake and active at that time), rejoicing in the company of a best friend who understood everything, but also just getting to be kids for a night. Bruce would always set a lot of rules for Dick when he would go (i.e., don’t reveal batfamily secrets, don’t go looking for trouble, leave the crime fighting to Barry, etc.), but he was always secretly relieved that Dick had this refuge from the Manor and Gotham.

b. They would eat pizza and occasionally try to prank Conner (remembering that if you said Clark’s Kryptonian name, his super hearing would immediately zero in on your words). They tested the theory a few times, whispering “Kon El” and then asking stupid, rhetorical questions about the meaning of life, or which laundry detergent was best, as if speaking to a Ouija board. One night, they had giggled so much at their own stupid questions, having long ago given up on the hope that Conner’s super hearing was quite as strong as Clark’s as they had done this a million times and he had never responded, when Wally’s bedroom window was thrown open, startling the two young heroes and causing them to yelp in what would later register as an extremely embarrassing pitch for superheroes. Conner didn’t even bother to enter the room. He just glared through the open window at his teammates and said, “STOP” before taking off. After about three minutes of slack-jawed staring at the place where Conner had just been, Wally whispered, “Kon El, my bad.”

c. Dick always brought a sleeping bag with him, but it was more out of habit than anything else. He hadn’t actually slept in it in years. Although neither teen acknowledged the routine that they had established, it went without saying that while playing video games, they sat on Wally’s bed, Dick beside the wall, Wally on the outside. As the night went on, shoes were removed and layers were shed in an effort to get more comfortable or because ‘the stiff fabric was restricting my arm, that’s why I’m losing!’ At some point, well after midnight, the lights were turned off so that the screen was more visible, and pillows were stacked behind to prop up the competitive gamers. Eventually, after hours of blowing stuff up, shooting bad guys, stealing cars, and pretty much getting to do everything that they never actually get to do despite (or because of) their secret super lives, one of them would throw in the towel (because they were losing and were tired of hearing the other gloat), and the game would be turned off. With the room dark, the boys would just sink backwards into the mattress and look at the ceiling, talking. Sometimes it would be about silly stuff, just jokes about the Leaguers to make them laugh. Other times it would be cathartic– someone needing to get something off their chest or to clear their mind. And sometimes, it was almost philosophical. No matter what they talked about, they would eventually drift off during this part of the night, responses becoming monosyllabic or more of a hum than a word. One might curl towards the other, and in the night, if one woke to find an arm slung over them, they would just cuddle into the embrace further, rather than turn away.

Sorry guys, it may be a while before I get back to any fan art. I have a lot of things going on that I need to take care of first… Here’s some stress relief doodles in the mean time ^.^

Witch Tip

Keep a witch/spiritual journal.

Seriously, it has helped me so much on my path. I record everything in it – significant dreams, omens/signs, spells and other practical things, personal philosophy, sigils, lore, divination readings, you name it. This has had several benefits for me:

1. It gives me the ability to look back and see the results of spells and readings so that I can develop my craft.

2. It allows me to look back on things like omens or signs in the context of a timeline to see if those things actually had significance or if they were just one-off chance encounters. I see a lot of asks on other blogs from people who wonder if such-and-such a thing meant anything and, if so, what it meant. Journaling allows you to hone your own intuition and keep track of significant things so that you can figure out what things mean on your own. I recommend writing down what you saw, how you felt, any information you’ve discovered through research, and what you think it means. Later (days, months, or even years), you can go back and confirm or disprove what you’ve written – either way, you’ve learned something valuable.

3. It’s cathartic. When I have something on my mind, it doesn’t leave until I write about it. It’s an outlet for all of my ideas and questions that wouldn’t otherwise have an outlet (either because they’re not quite developed enough to share or are just too personal).

I’ve been keeping journals since I first started crossing the hedge, and there’s nothing like it in terms of providing comfort and reassurance, catharsis, and wisdom.

Recently, I’ve been tapped on the shoulder by a deity (I know this because I’ve learned what the signs of a calling are for me based on past experiences I’ve written about), and as I think about the connection(s) between us more and more, it seems like this has been a long time coming. I am noticing the breadcrumbs that have been laid on my path up to this point, and my journal has been a huge help in tracing those crumbs to specific dates, ideas and messages. For example, readings that didn’t make sense before now make perfect sense in this new light. It’s coming at a significant time, too, and I’m noting it in my journal so that I can look back on it later and see what clues lay in the present in order to make sense of future events.

So, yes, journaling has been invaluable to me. I highly, highly recommend it.


Originally posted by cyborgnebulaarchive

Bucky x Reader


There was something cathartic about crying. Not quiet tears that were easily wiped away but loud, uncontrollable sobbing, hitting the walls, falling onto the ground and screaming until your lungs hurt and there was nothing left. It left you utterly exhausted afterwards but pleasantly numb. He had done it himself on occasion out of anger, frustration, sadness and just about every feeling there was.

So when he heard the tell tale gasp of someone holding in a sob he didn’t hesitate to drop his bag and knock on the bathroom door, ‘Bad day, doll?’ A mumbled, stuffy sounding denial came from the other side of the door and he gave a half smile, leaning against the doorframe, 'You wanna talk about it?’ There wasn’t a reply this time but a stuttered sob that made him sigh in sympathy. 'Come on…I don’t care if your nose is running or that your face is all red and blotchy. You can go all out – Not like I could judge you if I even wanted to.’

Slowly the door opened and he looked down at his girlfriend with a gentle smile, 'Don’t look at me… I’m really ugly right now…’ Y/N walked into him and wrapped her arms around the man’s middle, nestling her head under his chin with a defiant sniffle. She had had her cry and now she needed to get over it.

'You’re not ugly.’ His lips pressed on top of her head, 'You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen and no amount of snot or puffy eyes is gonna make me think different.’ When he realised she wasn’t going to cry in front of him he did something he hated, the one thing that could break down the strongest walls and it took only three words, 'Are you okay?’

Her fist hit his chest and he sighed, 'You bastard! Why…Why w-would you… Dam it, Bucky!’ Her voice cracked and he felt her shake, felt her take in a loud gasp and let out a miserable sound followed by tears and nails in his back. She felt him grip the backs of her thighs and lift her, he carried her to the sofa and sat down with her on his lap, never once breaking their embrace. He rearranged her legs so that she wouldn’t get cramp and pulled her shoes off before rubbing his palms up and down her back.

'Is that all you got?’ He asked in a tone that seemed uninterested, 'You just gonna have this little whine – doesn’t seem worth it…’

Y/N pushed back from his chest and sent his a watery glare, 'Well excuse me for not being worth it! I’m sorry if I’m spoiling your day and you got better stuff today but maybe I had a really shit week! Maybe I’m allowed to be a little bit fucking selfish and have a cry! I just…It’s…Why can’t I just…I’m trying so damn hard!’ This time she let out an angry little scream and thumped his metal shoulder in frustration, sobbing loudly into his chest to muffle the heart wrenching sound.

Bucky continued to rub her back and comb his fingers through her hair, 'Good girl, there we go.’ He didn’t like that she was so upset but he understood that people just had to cry sometimes, 'I know you got more than that…let it out.’ The brunette squeezed her a little tighter, huddling her against him as if sheltering her from everything else, 'Gonna look after you.’
He kept hold of her even when she seemed to calm, her head turned and she rested her cheek against his now damp chest, wobbly sounding whimpers escaping her as she tried to reign it in, the fingers of her right hand were hooked into his shirt and all she wanted was to simply lay there, possibly forever to wallow in her misery. The tears were drying on her cheeks but her eyes were still wet, vision still blurred, she could have fallen asleep against him there and then. Bucky made her sit up and gently wiped her face with his flesh hand, 'Want me to kill someone?’

A bitter laugh escaped her, her face scrunching up as another hiccup of sadness bubbled up, 'No…maybe? Would you get in trouble?’

His smug little smirk made her smile a little more, 'Doll… I used to be an assassin. Before that I was a damn good sniper – I can have them dead and not even be in the country. Steve would probably help me get rid of the body if I told him it was to stop you crying.’ Leaning forward Bucky kissed her forehead and gave her bottom a tap, 'Go wash your face, get in that ugly sweater of yours and I’ll make you a toasted sandwich or something.’
She had her favourite sweater, it was knitted and full of holes she didn’t know how to fix but it was comfortable and warm and she loved it too much to ever throw out. Bucky sat beside her, raising his left arm for her to nestle under and later likely fall asleep half way across his chest, for now he flicked on one of the movies in their queue and held the plate whilst she nibbled on the corner of her sandwich, he’d even cut it into triangles for her – every now and then she would brush the crumbs off him – Occasionally she would sniffle and Bucky would turn his head and kiss her temple.


anonymous asked:

well good morning to me oh m y g o d KAYE i tell u this a lot but wow you're my favorite i came to your blogs expecting quality art of amazing aus (which u have not disappointed) and now it's like it's my birthday w this smut im living for it 🗣🗣thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for sharing this w the world :'-)

Agdjhdjdhj THANK U SM for always telling me!!! It warms my heart every single time no lie. And I’m glad you’re living for it! I’m slightly dying cause of it but it’s actually hella cathartic and I learn something new everytime I draw it so it’s a win win LOL

anonymous asked:

Low key had a crush on this girl on campus and I may have bumped into her boyfriend on purpose quite cathartic LOL

honestly ? sounds like something id do … in my mind,, im not too courageous oop
you go !!!