I love watching shit with subtitles on and discovering that mumbled background conversations were not only supposed to be fully intelligible but are in fact plot-relevant. Like please, for the love of god, can streaming services start mixing their audio right?
‘Ok, ok,’ James shouted, Sangria sloshing down his front as his glass tipped precariously, ‘They’re a 9, but their Patronus is a naked mole rat!’
‘Ew!’ Sirius wrinkled his nose, ‘Definitely a 4.’
‘I don’t know,’ Pete shrugged, ‘I think they’re kind of cute. I’m still going to go with a 9.’
‘Pete.’ Remus looked at him, ‘They literally look like Merlin’s baggy, wrinkled bollocks. But sentient.’
‘Rem that is grim,’ James said, looking delighted. Remus just nodded sagely.
Pete looked a bit sick. ‘Ok, when you put it like that, maybe I’ll go for a 6.’
‘Nice.’ James clapped him on the back and refilled his glass, ‘Your turn, Wormy!’
‘Erm, ok I’ve got one. She’s a red headed ten, but,’ Pete looked at James, ‘She hates Quidditch.’
‘Ooof,’ James put a hand over his heart. ‘I dunno mate, does she still come watch me play?’
‘Nope.’
‘Definitely still a 10 then,’ Sirius quipped, laughing as James took off a shoe and chucked it at him. Sirius dived behind Remus, who reached out and caught the shoe lazily in one hand and then raised an eyebrow at James.
‘Doesn’t look like this 10 is missing much, hey Jam. That was a shit aim.’
‘Yeh!’ Sirius popped up from behind Remus and hooked his chin on his shoulder, ‘My granny could have given that throw more welly, and she’s dead!’
‘Hey! That was fucking on point and you know it!’
‘Whatever helps you sleep at night babe.’
‘Wormyyyy,’ James whined, clambering onto Pete’s lap, ‘Padfoot and Moony are being mean to me again!’
‘Never mind Prongs,’ Pete said, patting James on the back, ‘You just need to practise more, ‘tis all.’
James gasped, ‘Traitor!’
‘Don’t give him ideas, Pete!’ Sirius said, ‘He’s already got practise scheduled for 6 o’ clock on Saturday morning.’
‘The early bird catches the worm Paddywhack.’ James slid of Pete’s lap and back to his spot on the floor. ‘Level with me Petey, is this red headed 10 Lily Evans?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well then,’ James leant back on his elbows, the usual dreamy look on his face, ‘It’s still gonna be a 10 isn’t it.’
‘Good man,’ Remus said. ‘Ok. He’s a 3 but he’s a werewolf.’
‘Remus!’ both James and Pete chorused.
’10.’ Sirius said quietly.
The three others looked at him.
‘What?’ Sirius shrugged, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks, ‘I think werewolves are cool. And,’ he turned to Remus, the blush deepening, ‘You’re not a 3 and you know it.’
Remus rolled his eyes, ‘Ok, he’s a 5.’
‘No.’
‘What do you mean n- fine, a 7.’
‘Higher.’
‘I’m not going higher! I’m not! Ergh, ok. 9. But that’s it!’
Sirius just looked at him, a scowl creasing his flawless brow.
‘Ok, ok, oh my god. He’s a 10. Happy?’
‘Very.’ Sirius said, although he didn’t sound it and he whirled around to Pete and James, looking at them defiantly.
James held his hands up. ‘You won’t see me arguing. Always said Moony’s a 10.’
’10 and a half if anything,’ Pete added and Sirius looked slightly appeased, settling back down next to Remus, starting a little as their hands brushed together. They both pulled away as if they’d been burned.
An odd silence settled in the room.
‘Right.’ James said slowly, looking at them bemused. And then continued more loudly, ‘So a 10 but a werewolf still gives us a 10! Sorted!’ Remus scoffed but James ignored him. ‘Moony, your turn!’
‘Fine. This game is ridiculous.’ He looked at Sirius who was looking unusually subdued. ‘He’s a perfect 10, but he’s as stubborn as all hell.’
‘Oh my god shut up,’ Sirius mumbled, the flush that had been beginning to recede reappearing twice as bright.
‘I will not.’ Remus said matter-of-factly, and then, with a quick glance at Pete and James he leaned forwards and dropped a kiss onto Sirius’ cheek.
‘Oh my God, it’s finally happening.’ Pete squealed, giving little wiggle just as James muttered ‘What the fuck? A perfect 10?’
He looked between Sirius and Remus who were now both blushing furiously. ‘Wait. I’m confused. Padfoot’s the perfect 10?’
‘Come to the kitchen with me Prongs!’ Pete said suddenly, ‘We need more orange slices!’
‘More orange slices?’ James repeated, looking even more confused, ‘What the hell is going on.’
‘Come onnnnn,’ Pete said, tugging James up and frog marching his towards and out the door. He shut it behind him. ‘Walk with me. I have a plan!’
------------------------------
‘Okay!’ James said, chucking a handful of orange segments into the jug and topping it up liberally with red wine before sticking 4 straws in. ‘Come on lads, bottoms up!’
‘Yeah!’ Pete said, grabbing a straw and beginning to slurp enthusiastically. ‘Yum!’ he said, pulling away, ‘Come on you two!’
Remus and Sirius, who had been sat throwing furtive glances at each other for the past ten minutes, shuffled forwards.
‘This is unsanitary,’ Remus said, eyeing his straw dubiously but leaning down to take a suck anyway.
‘Pfft,’ James made a garbled noise, his mouth full of liquid. He swallowed. ‘I’ve literally seen you stick your face in Padfoot’s butt, Moony.’
Sirius choked on his mouthful as Remus came up spluttering. ‘What?! No you haven’t!’
‘He means when you were Moony, Moony.’ Pete said, deciding to come to Remus’, who was almost purple, rescue. He shot James a look. James just grinned back.
Remus turned to look at Sirius, aghast. ‘I haven’t done that. Have I?’
Sirius didn’t say anything, but there was no denying the red splotches appearing down his neck.
‘Padfoot?!’
‘We weren’t going to say anything,’ Sirius glared at James, ‘Because we knew you’d be embarrassed, but yeh, you do. But it’s ok!’ he hurried on, ‘It’s a totally normal thing! I think it’s because the wolf knows I’m pack and also the whole canine thing. It’s really nothing to worry about Moons, I swear. I read somewhere that canines do it because it helps calm them so if you think about it, it’s actually kind of sweet. I don’t know, I sort of like it.’
‘You like it?’
‘No, not like that!’ Sirius was now scarlet. ‘Just the fact that maybe I can keep you calm. I don’t know,’ he tailed off, ‘It makes me feel special. That the wolf needs me.’
‘Of course the wolf needs you,’ Remus said quietly, taking another sip of Sangria and determinedly not making eye contact. ‘You’re it’s Padfoot.’ He paused. ‘Just like I need you.’ He looked up, ‘Because you’re my Sirius.’
‘Eek!’ James squeaked. Pete shoved him.
‘Moony, I’ve got one for you.’ Pete said, as the last of the jug was drained. ‘He’s a 9 but he speaks French.’
‘Oh my God 100% a 10.’ Remus said without hesitating.
‘Padfoot,’ James threw out, ‘He’s an 8…but he has freckles.’
‘I thought we agreed that Moony was a 10?’
‘Who says I’m talking about Moony?’
‘Oh. Right. Sorry. Well freckles are always a 10, aren’t they.’
‘If you say so! Moony! He’s a 7 but he can really pull off a leather jacket, if you know what I mean.’
’10.’ Remus said slowly, narrowing his eyes slightly, ‘What are you-‘
‘Padfoot!’ Pete interrupted, ‘He’s a 6 but he lets you steal his jumpers.’
’10.’ Sirius answered immediately, although he looked a bit bewildered.
‘Cuuuuute,’ James kicked his legs happily. ‘Moony! He’s a 5 but he’s left handed.’
Remus levelled James with a look which said he knew exactly what going on but then he smiled.
‘A 10.’ He sighed, looking bashful.
‘Damn right it’s a 10. Paddy! He’s a 4 but he has a lip ring.’
‘God I love a lip ring,’ Sirius said, shooting Remus a sideways glance.
‘We know!’ Both James and Pete chorused.
‘So…?’ Pete prompted him.
‘Well it’s another 10 isn’t it.’
‘Hell yeah! Moony, he’s a 3 but…’ Pete paused to think.
‘He writes in cursive?’ Remus suggested drolly.
‘Yes! Good one! He’s a 3 but he writes in cursive.’
‘Another 10.’
‘Writes in cursive?’ Sirius said, eyes flicking between Pete and Remus, ‘What the hell? That’s so random? Why is that a-‘
‘S.O.B, my main man!’ James clapped a hand on Sirius’ shoulder as the other two burst out laughing. ‘He’s a 2, but he can’t fly for shit.’
‘Hey!’ Remus flipped him off. ‘I’m not that bad!’
‘You so are Moons,’ Sirius laughed and then stopped, a dawning realisation spreading over his face. ‘Still a 10 though.’
‘Ok.’ Pete said, more calmly. ‘This one’s for both of you. He’s a 1. But. He’s your first kiss.’
Neither Sirius or Remus said or did anything, they just starred at one another. The room crackled with unspent magic and Sirius shifted towards Remus slightly.
‘Oh my God,’ James whispered eventually, ‘One of you needs to do something. I’m dying here.’
And with that, the tension was broken. Remus threw his head back, laughing. ‘Oh come here you sausage!’ And he moved forward, grabbing the neck of Sirius’ t-shirt and crashing their mouths together.
Sirius melted into him immediately, threading one hand through Remus’ hair and clutching the sleeve of Remus’ jumper with the other. Remus returned the gesture in kind, dropping one hand to Sirius’ hip to pull him forward and deepen the kiss, the other pressed against his cheek, thumb rubbing softly back and forth along his jaw.
Pete and James high fived.
They kissed for several more minutes, until eventually Sirius pulled away, gasping for air. Remus, panting lightly, pressed his forehead against Sirius and smiled at him adoringly.
‘Well?!’ James said, making them both jump, ‘Give us the number then!’
Sirius huffed a laugh and pressed his lips to Remus’ once more in a much more chaste kiss. ‘A 10. Definitely, always a 10.’
(Also using this as a verrrrry tenuous link to @wolfstarmicrofic's prompt 'Sangria.')
(the first person has text over them that says "being fat and wanting a girlfriend")
First person: "See what's behind this door..!"
(Door has text over it that says "fat girls" while The Toccata and Fugue in D minor plays in the background)
First person: "Noo, is there a bett-"
Second person: " Yo it's funny that there's an entire demographic, of petite women who love bigger men. But because you've just ousted yourself, as a cunt, it's never gonna happen for you mate. You're really out here body shaming, all these beautiful shawties, big body Bugatti (kiss noise), exquisite; but you're built like a less cool Bling Bling Boy from Johnny Test. Make it make sense mate. It doesn't- it really doesn't. Could've kept your mouth shut. But you had to say something. And you even went so far as to put it on the internet. And you thought that was a good idea because-? Please, take yourself elsewhere. Sincerely the entire fucking human race."
That transcript up there is great, but it fails to mention that the second person? Has a voice like... warm caramel. Like a blanket on a rainy day. Like the gentle creak of an ancient tree in an even more ancient forest. A voice that's a low, deep -- far deeper than expected -- warm, and has a soothing timbre that, honestly, I could listen to for hours.
I feel it needs to be further clarified that his voice is like warm caramel if warm caramel was still delicious but also haunted. A warm blanket knit from the fleece of an unnamed beast that roams wild lands where humans were not meant to tread. An ancient tree in a beautiful forest where you don't want to linger after dark.
“The central front was South Africa, where the HIV rate at the time was estimated as high as 22 percent and threatened to decimate an entire generation. In December 1997, the Mandela government passed a law giving the health ministry powers to produce, purchase, and import low-cost drugs, including unbranded versions of combination therapies priced by Western drug companies at $10,000 and more. In response, 39 drug multinationals filed suit against South Africa alleging violations of the country’s constitution and its obligations under the WTO’s Agreement on Trade-Related Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights, or TRIPS. The industry suit was backed by the diplomatic muscle of the Clinton administration, which tasked Al Gore with applying pressure. In his 2012 documentary Fire in the Blood, Dylan Mohan Gray notes it took Washington 40 years to threaten apartheid South Africa with sanctions and less than four to threaten the post-apartheid Mandela government over AIDS drugs.”
— Alexander Zaitchik, How Bill Gates Impeded Global Access to Covid Vaccines
anyone else remember being a child and seeing the very neat handwriting of other little girls and somehow knowing that you were a different genre of person than they were
You ever think about how old people have no idea what “survivor bias” is, and take full credit for being excellent out of things where they lucked out?
“Back in my day we didn’t have any of these childhood protective things, we were smart enough not to do stupid shit on our own!”
Except your little neighbour, who got the funniest idea at the age of seven, and got his skull pierced when he slipped?
“Back in my day nobody got divorced, we stuck together and fixed our problems!”
What about your cousin, who was slowly killed by her husband because she had nowhere to escape him?
“Back in my day nobody had ‘mental problems’, we didn’t whine, we just toughed it out and endured life!”
Hey remember that guy you used to work with, who seemed really friendly and normal, and then suddenly hanged himself ‘for no reason’?
“Back in my day we didn’t have any of this ‘gay’ or ‘transgender’ thing.”
You did, but your family cut all ties with her before you were born.
You kinda start seeing it in everything they think, if you start looking for it.
"The Rexes are incredibly affectionate pack animals, so we were careful to breed multiples. Be sure to come during spring time to watch them go broody over anything even vaguely egg-shaped."
"We put the Raptors through target training and now if they are bored, hungry, or just want a scratch under the chin they go to spot near the bars and ring a little bell for attention."
"Imprinting after hatching was so common that we now have keepers under contract to care for the animals well into adulthood to prevent them from pining."
"The Gallimimus turned out to be just giant Canada Geese, and so fear nothing. Their keeper regularly has to stop them from trying to attack fences, guests, feeding buckets, and the now traumatised pack of Ceratosaurs in the next paddock."
What’s up with the fairly recent trend of leap years all being bad fucking years like 2008? Shit. 2012? Fucking shit. 2016? Absolute fucking shit. I’m just gonna predict 2020 is gonna be the Most Absolute Stinky Piece of Shit year to date
The reason endermen don’t like it when you look at them is because they communicate telepathically with one another by locking eyes! Humans are absolutely not designed to do this so when we look at them we are accidentally projecting all of our thoughts into them at the same time and it hurts :(
germansingergirl
ellievsbear
kaledo-art
