LETS PLAY THE “TYPE THESE WORDS IN YOU R TAG BOX AND POST THE FIRST AUTOMATIC TAG THAT COMES UP” GAME: DIRTY WORD ADDITION OK
"Sirius," she hissed, snapping her foot against the pureblood’s shin. He yelped, giving her a wounded look.
"The bloody Hell was that for, woman?"
"Put that out," she demanded, motioning violently at the smoking cancer stick dangling from his lips like it was meant to be there. Aesthetically, she could understand the appeal of a smoker. But Hell, "We’re in the library, is nothing sacred to you?”
He laughed, a loud barking noise that usually brought a smile to her face. “I’m not going to hurt your precious books, Dani. Relax.”
"The nicotine is bad for them," and then, "And you."
"So glad my health comes first," he drawled, placing a hand over his heart in mock sadness. She kicked him again.
"Put it out."
"Damn it, man," she hissed, slamming her foot against his shin. He yelped, scrambling down to grab the wounded limb while still keeping the cigarette lit.
"Honestly, Padfoot," a hand snatched out and grabbed the menthol, and put out the cherry with the wave of his wand. James Potter had, once again, come to her rescue. "Don’t you know by now not to argue with her?"
"That was my last one," Sirius whined, making grabbing hands at his bestfriend. James snorted, sending her a charming grin.
"This git isn’t bothering you too bad, is he?"
"Will you beat him up for me if I say ‘yes’?"
"Of course," he grinned, ignoring the indignant noise Sirius made.
"Then yes," she nodded. James hummed, face serious, before launching himself at Sirius. She laughed, watching the impromptu skirmish with amusement.
Boys, she thought happily. Agreeing to tutor Sirius Black was probably the best thing she’d ever done.
At least until Madame Pince got a hold of them and gave them detentions.
Daniella Michaels, 7th year Hufflepuff, is roped (through a series of unfortunate events that would make Lemony Snicket cringe) into tutoring Sirius Black. Her friends are certain its the beginning of an epic love story, and they’re right. Just not about who. Because James Potter can only take rejection so much before finally getting the hint.
Caleb Sanders was the boy who was going nowhere. His mom was the town whore, his dad was a no show, and he spent more time bar hopping than studying. By the time he was fifteen, he’d accepted the fact that he’d never amount to much - reveled in it, really.
And then he started dreaming about the devil, his long lost family popped up out of nowhere, and oh, yeah. Angels.
At the age of fifteen, Caleb had accepted that his life was going nowhere fast. At the age of twenty-three, he realized it was going to Hell in a hand basket, but at least he had company.
he fits right in there its so fucking disgusting i want more
fucking mini dean right there goddamn
But anyway, I recently sat down to figure out exactly where Steve’s local gay bars would be, or where the closest ones would be, for purposes of plotting things out, and uh … turns out that Steve Rogers lived in the MIDDLE of the biggest cruising/gay bar/gay hangouts area of Brooklyn. Like, a couple blocks from the St. George Hotel, which was almost entirely gay by the early 40s.
This is actually a really great, fascinating essay on the area and time Steve grew up in. The whole idea that Steve (and Bucky even more) would be completely, totally clueless seems even more ridiculous when you really look at this stuff.
Thanks to the Ministry of Magic and tech-savy professors of Hogwarts, we are now enrolling students into our online wizarding education program.
forsake real education and instead do magic homework that has due dates and a grading system that doesnt actually amount to anything because lol fucking wizards