*Bullying Prevention Day*

*Bullying Prevention Day*

McGonagall: Mary , what would you do if one of your classmates viciously teased you again and again?

Mary: Oh, that’s easy. I’d take a pencil out of my pencil case—

McGonagall: To write something to your teacher?

Mary : —make sure that it’s really sharp, and ram it into their eye at full tilt! My mom always says the pencil is mightier than the sword because they can’t outlaw bringing pencils to school!

McGonagall:

The rest of the class:

Lily: *whispering to Marlene* I think I’m in love with Mary

Happy 27th!

That scene where Simon kisses Baz because he’s so happy he put butter on his sandwich – you gotta remember Simon is obsessed with Baz. It’s not something Simon ever lets you forget, but consider this: Simon is not used to be taken care of (he notes as much with “it makes me so happy [that Baz takes care me the way he does] that it make me wish I always had this”) but also, Simon following Baz around all along has been a result of his attraction and his romantic interest.

It’s a way for Simon to try and be part of Baz’s life: “what is he doing? What are the things he likes to do? How does he spent his time? What kind of expression does he make at X and Y situation?… Does he think of me as much as I think of him?”…. That last question is key here, because Baz putting butter on Simon’s sandwich is the answer. It tells Simon Baz has been paying as much attention to him, because he has noticed, without anybody telling him anything, that Simon likes butter on his sandwich. It’s Baz taking care of Simon in a way no one has before, and it’s also Baz showing Simon that he noticed him. He has been noticing him and paying attention, too. (Just like Baz doesn’t know Simon sees him as the love of all his lives, Simon doesn’t know Baz loves him just as much. He’s aware in hindsight that his feelings for Baz when he followed him everywhere was obviously attraction and romantic love, but he doesn’t know, he doesn’t internalize that Baz already felt the same back then – he’s just beginning to understand with “when he hated me but didn’t really hate me, didn’t only hate me” but at the same time he doesn’t know, but gestures such as this communicate a lot to him)

@jilymicrofics july 28: stargaze

“And that one?”

“Cassiopeia,” James answers immediately.

Lily steals another secret glance at him, absolutely captivated by how the nearly full moon, still two nights away, reflects off his glasses, giving his hazel eyes a soft, glowing warmth. The interplay of light and shadow on his face reveals the gentle lines of his features and that ridiculous mop of hair that falls carelessly across his forehead. He looks particularly beautiful like this and she’s just on the verge of telling him.

“That’s Greek as well, yeah?” she asks.

He nods, the movement causing his hair to brush against the grass of the Quidditch pitch. “Cursed by Apollo,” he says, and Lily almost, almost, almost laughs, but she manages to keep it together, instead murmuring a vague, “Oh wow.”

James takes it as encouragement to continue. “She rejected him, so he gave her the gift of prophecy, with the cursed exception that no one would ever believe her.”

“He sounds like the compassionate sort of god I’d like to worship,” she snorts.

James laughs, and the movement causes the back of his hand to graze hers in the space on the grass between them. Lily's breath catches, wondering if this fleeting touch will be the one that finally makes him reach out and intertwine their fingers.

His hand retreats again, and Lily has to physically stop herself from groaning.

“Why are all of the Blacks named after stars?” she asks, trying to divert her impatience.

“Masochism, probably,” James says casually, even as he grins up at the stars. “Follow-up question.” He turns toward her, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose as his cheek presses into the grass. She swallows and makes herself hold his gaze. “Why are all the Evans girls named after flowers?”

Lily laughs, their faces close enough that her breath ruffles a stray curl of his hair across his forehead. “Definitely masochism.” She shifts her hand so that it intentionally brushes against his again. “I’ve never really felt like a Lily.”

This time, he doesn't move his hand away. Instead, he presses back with the back of his hand. “I think it suits you. I think it’s lovely.”

She feels herself flush, even as she chuckles. “Lovely Lily,” she drawls, sarcastically.

“Hey,” he says softly, and finally—finally—his fingers catch hers. “Hey.”

She squeezes his hand. I’m right here, the motion says.

“Can I tell you something?”

She hums in affirmation.

“I made all that shit up from before,” he whispers. “I don’t know anything about astronomy.”

She giggles, absolutely delighted, turning to bury her face in his shoulder. “Can I tell you something?” She waits, for dramatic effect, and then grins up at him, her face flushed. “I know.”

He pulls back, their hands straining between them. “What?” he demands.

She’s practically hysterical now, snorting into his shirt. “Cassandra,” she says, using her free hand to swipe under her eyes. “The story you told. That’s Cassandra! And besides, it's Delphinus up there anyway.”

James yelps. “Why the hell did you let me witter on like a prat?”

“I quite like your wittering,” she replies cheekily, using their joined hands to pull herself a little closer.

Baz! Hurry! The scones have already been served!

he was crazy for that