me during sports class
Steve Rogers doesn’t know about Luke’s dad.
…What did that Avengers Tower movie night look like?
"Okay, I’ve got historical events and music so far. What movies do I need to see?" Steve asks, breaking out his notebook.
“Some Like It Hot,” Bruce says immediately.
“Robin Hood,” Clint puts in, to no one’s surprise.
Steve smiles. “Errol Flynn?”
“Men in Tights.”
Natasha looks up from where she’s curled in an armchair. “The Sound of Music?”
Clint snorts. “I think he might object to the singing Nazis, Nat.”
Steve just raises an eyebrow. “Singing Nazis?” That one goes on the list.
"Ooh, in that case, Pearl Harbor,” Tony says.
A chorus of groans and protests meet his statement.
"What? I kind of want to see his head explode."
Steve does not put that one on the list. “Anything else?”
“Star Wars,” Darcy says, without looking up from her phone.
The room goes silent. Everyone stops and stares at her like they’ve forgotten she stuck around after Jane went back to New Mexico. Which they probably have.
"Darce, you’re a genius,” Clint breathes.
Bruce actually smiles. “We are in the presence of the last unspoiled adult in the entire country.”
Tony’s eyes light up. “Oh my god, he doesn’t know that Vader is—”
Natasha has him in a choke-hold before anyone realizes she’s moving. “Not another syllable.”
Tony raises his hands in surrender, and Natasha loosens her hold. “What the hell was that about?” he wheezes.
She nods towards Bruce, who is looking somewhat green around the gills.
"Spoilers make him angry."
THIS IS WONDERFUL
there’s a really big difference between “the writers want to put these two characters in a queer relationship but can’t because of censors” and “we’re going to keep putting these characters in queer situations and playing it off as a really funny joke”
WAKE UP POTTER
WE’RE GOING TO THE ZOO
So, a Quidditch match at Hogwarts, right? Slytherin vs Gryffindor (yeah yeah obvious, I know
shut up). And all of a sudden there’s this STAMP STAMP CLAP from the Gryffindor stand and all the Muggle-borns start singing/screaming WE WILL ROCK YOU across the pitch towards the Slytherins. And then there’s this little pause while the Muggle-born Slytherins (you know those fuckers are there, don’t deny it) have a really speedy chat, and then they retaliate with WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?!
and the wizards are just standing there like what the fuck is going on??
(cecil has tattos that change depending on his mood and when carlos gives him the warm fuzzies flowers bloom everywhere)
stop being rude and start being nude
Death being a great motivator, again!
why does my body keep producing acne why can’t you focus on more important things like growing wings or making me hot
*plays dangan ronpa execution theme at your funeral*
The Great Hall is repaired first. It must be first, because here is the damage the worst. Even a first year mediwitch will tell you that you must repair the heart before you can go on to do the rest. Here, where the dead were laid to rest, the witches and wizards who are left standing raise their wands towards the cracked and darkened ceiling to make it shine with stars once more. There, Filch scrubs blood off the stone tiles. And over there house elves carefully sand down the brand new benches, ever watchful for even the tiniest splinter that might cause a careless student harm.
Next come the common rooms, because there must be safe spaces - even when Hogwarts, and the world, are crumbling around you you must have somewhere to retreat to. Each head of house takes on their own common room, and eventually they are restored. Even made greater. Slughorn in particular takes great pleasure in banishing every hint of dankness from the corners of his former house. No slithering first year will ever think they have been banished, that their fate is nothing but the cold and the dark.
Slowly, Hogwarts heals. Eventually, there is nothing left but a single scar in the shape of a beaten down greenhouse. Eventually, new students fill the halls who never knew Hogwarts before The Last Battle. To them, it only makes sense that the dark third corridor on the fifth floor is festooned with magical fireflies that never die. It is as it has always been. They don’t stop to think of the generations of bumped heads and stumbles in the dark that made Flitwick stop and think maybe.
Hogwarts is changed, as are they all. As is the world. But change is relative, and swiftly Hogwarts is as it has always been for thousands of students. A home. Nothing to be remarked upon.
But some remember.
Hermione Granger, who, returning for her seventh year, cannot eat in the Great Hall where she saw Fred’s body on the ground. She sees Aberforth often that year. Dennis Creevey, who goes back every year even though he can hardly bear it, because his brother had loved Hogwarts, had fought and died for it. Laura Madley, who still flinches at every loud noise. Yatin Baghat, who sleeps with his wand under his pillow every night for the rest of his life. Stephen Cornfoot, who has to have his own separate room apart from the Ravenclaws because he wakes up screaming at least once a week.
For people like them, sometimes seeing Hogwarts so whole is not a relief. It is not home. It is a mockery of their pain to see their scars buffed away as if they had never really happened. Sometimes the perfect walls of Hogwarts close in on them until they can’t breathe.
During those times, they go to the Room of Requirement. True to its purpose, it gives them what they need. They can walk on the stones still cracked from curses, and see proof that what they had gone through was real. Proof that Hogwarts still remembered its ruin, still had cracks running through it as real as the ones that scarred its students. On those bad days, those students can go curl up among the broken things, look up at the sky through the gaping wounds torn into the walls, and be able to breathe at last.
It can be comforting, to know that you are not alone in your damage.
(written and submitted by rainbowrites, who has such an incredible, subtle way of conveying the very very difficult and the tragic. In rainbowrites’ hands, something like this remains painful, but it also becomes beautiful, a joy to read.)
My Buddhist friend was stopped by a Christian fellowship and asked if she would consider following the word of Jesus Christ. She replied, “No, thanks, but maybe next time around.”
I don’t think they got the joke but I nearly died laughing.