Kara is a singer
at a speakeasy with a debt to a mafia boss and Cat is her detective neighbour. Both women have feelings for each other and as they get closer Cat learns about Kara’s situation. Of course Cat is determined to help the person she loves but Kara doesn’t want Cat to get involved.
Due to a typo, your local store/mall/etc. put out a request for an appearance by Satan instead of Santa. He follows through with the request.
He shows up and reads through the entire job contract, notes the spelling ‘Santa’ and just corrects each one with a red pen. He eyes the mall representative, who is sweating bullets, but says nothing about the fact that the contracts he’s making are with children, or that they don’t involve souls of any kind. He signs on the bottom line in a strange, bony quill. There’s a strange red flash, and the mall rep is super reluctant to ask. Or touch the contract.
Satan wears the red suit and the hat and the boots, if awkwardly (those cloven hooves, don’tchaknow).
The elves stand well away, but he’s hardly bothered by that, casually waiting on a throne that’s far more cheerful and composed of significantly less bone than the one he’s used to.
The children are hesitant at first, until a little girl marches up, sans-parents, and plops herself on his knee, looking up at him with the set jaw of someone who isn’t interested in this farce.
“I want a pony,” she says with a roll of her eyes. She’s no more than nine. He arches an eyebrow
“Do you?” he asks. She scoffs.
“Tch, no, but you’re just a man in a suit, it’s not like you can’t get me what I want.”
He smiles at her assertiveness and steeples his fingers, careful not to jostle her from her perch.
“Try me.”
She narrows her eyes at him, studying his inscrutable face before folding her arms.
“There’s a bully at my school, and I want him to go away,” she said. His eyebrow arched a little higher and he tilted his head.
“And if I do this, I believe the standard contract is that you will be a ‘good girl’ and behave appropriately towards your most favored parent?’ he replied. The child rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, sure,” she says. He nods and holds out his hand, which curls around hers entirely when she puts hers out.
“It will be done.”
After that, the children are a lot less hesitant, although several adults attempt to leave. Several hundred bargains are made. For toys. For new family. For present family to suffer. For puppies. And kittens. For understanding. For acceptance.
He declines anything borne of pettiness – of momentary squabbles between jealous children – and redirects them towards more productive desires.
He turns away anyone over the age of eighteen, though several adults attempt to approach. Later they are plagued with horrible nightmares.
At the end of each day, he returns to the underworld and assembles teams of demons, handing out assignments to each of them, to be researched heavily and then executed the night of December 24th. The demons are confused, but do as they’re told, because the dark lord’s edicts are undeniable. His secretary gives him an odd look, but Satan is immune to searching looks, and says nothing, just retires to his room, gets up in the morning, has his coffee, and returns to the mall, donning the suit and heading for the chair.
At the end of the week, he has made more than a thousand deals. The demon hordes are scurrying back and forth between hell and the physical plane.
There are many confused parents, come Christmas morning. Some find themselves with various pets they don’t remember registering for. Others with children. Others still find that their children have undergone some sort of personality shift, to the delight of their siblings.
The first girl is bitter in her heart as she opens gifts, until a letter is personally delivered by a strange mailman, detailing the removal of a teacher from the school she attends. She reads and rereads the letter after her parents finish with it, heart beating strangely lighter in her chest. Her parents are bemused and delighted about the hugs she gives them, and about the enthusiasm with which she ravages her other presents.
They are far less bemused by the black, hellfire-maned pony that is left on their doorstep, a tag attached to the pommel of the saddle that reads, ‘To Katie, Regards, Satan’
You’re a regular office worker born with the ability to “see” how dangerous a person is with a number scale of 1-10 above their heads. A toddler would be a 1, while a skilled soldier with a firearm may score a 7. Today, you notice the reserved new guy at the office measures a 10.
You decide it’s best to find out what you can about this person. Cautiously, you approach his desk. He’s a handsome man, tall, but with a disarming smile. How could such a friendly guy with such cute, dorky glasses be dangerous?
You extend your hand. “I noticed you’re new here. What’s your name?”
He shakes your hand warmly. His gaze is piercing, as if he’s looking right through you. “The name’s Clark,” he says. “So, how long have you worked for the Daily Planet?”
This one wins.
It’s been a few weeks, and one of Clark’s friends shows up. She’s pretty and all, enough muscle that she must work out. First thought would be that she should be maybe a 6.
Clark’s introducing her around. “This is my good friend, Diana, she’s in from out of town.”
You blink, and take a step back in fear. You’ve never seen an 11 before.
Kara sometimes dresses up in her Supergirl suit and competes in
random Supergirl Lookalike Contests. Now, she just does them for fun because
she is thoroughly entertained that—even with the costume, the muscles, and the
pose—she always loses, but it started out as a way to prove her point to Alex
and J’onn that her disguise was safe.
(”If they can’t even recognize me in costume, how
are they going to recognize me out of it, Alex? Hmmm???)
The only time she almost wins is when, during the middle of
a competition, Alex calls. Kara thinks it’s a DEO emergency and is already in
the air, ready to fly off. ….. Turns out it was just Alex calling to say that
she wanted to try a new takeout place for dinner. Kara flutters back down to
the stage, and everyone is just like, ??!?!?!?WTF???!?!?
“Oh,” Lena snorted quietly, “that should be good.”
“Hm?” Kara looked up from her breakfast spread to Lena across the table.
“They’re having a Supergirl lookalike contest for charity,” she said, turning the paper so Kara could see the ad. “I suppose I should be glad there’s no accompanying ‘Luthor’ lookalike contest.” She turned the paper back over and rolled her eyes as she spotted the ad for that right under the first. “Spoke too soon. At least it’s for a good cause, I suppose.” Her eyes flicked over the rest of the paper before returning to Kara. “You should enter.”
“I should- hah, what? No! I don’t think I could pull off wearing your heels, Lena!”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.,” she laughed. “The Supergirl contest. I’m positive you’d win- blonde, blue-eyed, and I know you’ve got some muscle under those cardigans you wear. I even have a tailor who would be able to make the suit, if you wanted.”
“Hah,” she fiddled with her glasses, staring at her plate. “I look,” she shook her head, “nothing like Supergirl, I don’t think anyone would buy it.”
“You do, although honestly, I think you’ve got a nicer smile than she does. She’s always so restrained, look.” She held up the picture of Supergirl next to Kara’s face. “Much cuter.”
Kara stuttered for a moment, grabbing her juice and downing it to avoid saying something stupid.
“I just- you know- I don’t think I’d get very far? And I think I have to work that day?”
“When don’t we have to work?” Lena rolled her eyes. “Personally, I’m looking into a vacation one of these days. If nothing else, it’ll delay my next assassination attempt by a few days…” She turned the page of the newspaper. “Did I even mention the day it’s happening?”
“It’s- the date is on the paper,” Kara tried, hoping it was.
“Huh. Must have missed that. Oh- and that it’s sponsored by that potsticker place you like so much.”
“Wait, it is?”
Lena handed the paper over, letting Kara read through the details of it.
“If I thought I had a chance, I might enter. Just for the chance to wear a cape without anyone thinking it was for ‘sinister’ reasons, if nothing else.”
“I’ll do it, on two conditions.”
“Which are?”
“One- you get your tailor to make you a cape anyways- I have…someone who can make me a suit to use for the contest, but you should definitely wear a cape. And two…Alex cannot find out.”
“Deal.” —- Lena adjusted her red capelet, a comforting hand on Kara’s shoulder as they watched the top three ‘Supergirl’s make their way on stage.
The organizers walked through the crowd handing out the rest of the rewards, passing one over to Kara.
“Sixth place?”
(Brought to you by the brilliant mind of @sterling-jay)
The thing about the holiday window display is that Clarke is—kind of—a real artist. She certainly wants to be a real artist, and is getting her MFA in graphic design, and has even won some contests for her work. She has, not to put too fine a point on it, skills.
Which is why Roan asks her to do the window displays at the store in the first place.
Well, okay, that’s why he says he asks her to do the window displays, but Clarke’s pretty sure about ninety percent of his motivation is that he doesn’t want to do it himself, and he’s just using the art thing to butter her up. But she’d be pissed if he asked any of the other employees, so whatever his motivation, she’s not objecting. She likes doing the window display. It’s fun. Usually, she changes them once a month, with different themes, and everyone agrees she does a good job with that.
But the holiday season is on another level.
“I’m thinking one every week,” she tells Raven. Raven doesn’t actually work at the store, but is dating Roan and therefore hangs out a lot because she likes spending time with him and he gave her the employee wifi password. Clarke considers her a perk of the job.
“You want to do a new display every week?” Raven asks. “Starting when?”
“That’s the question. I’m against holiday creep, but I accept that it’s a thing, and if we don’t go with it, it might hurt business.”
Raven frowns. “Has anyone in the history of the world ever looked at a store, found they don’t have Christmas lights up, and decided not to shop there?”
“There are people who believe the war on Christmas is a real thing,” Clarke points out. “Honestly, anything is possible.”
I couldn’t come up with a historical era for them to go to, so I just made this a Star Trek AU with them coming back to now oops
If and when Bellamy gets back to his own time, he’s going to petition Starfleet to add some mandatory classes on what to do if you’re thrown back in time and/or into a parallel universe, because he thinks generic guidelines and word-of-mouth tips just aren’t cutting it. They need to stop acting like this doesn’t happen all the fucking time.
“At least we’re on Earth,” says Clarke, looking around with a frown.
“I don’t know, Vulcan might be better. If we told Vulcans we were time travelers from the future, they’d probably roll with it and help. This doesn’t look like an advanced enough Earth to give us any help.”
“I think the Prime Directive forbids talking about being a time traveler.”
“Yeah, and we never ignore the Prime Directive.”
Clarke huffs a laugh, and he smiles too. He wouldn’t admit it without some serious interrogation, but Clarke is probably his first choice for a companion in any tight spot. She’s smart and capable and practical, idealistic without being stupid. Which is kind of a problem with Starfleet, in his experience.
“Never,” she agrees, and when the computer finishes its analysis with a ping, she’s the one to go check it. “You want the bad news?”
“No, I like going into potentially hostile situations blind.”
“It could be worse. Early twenty-first century. Pollution levels are near critical, so I’d say between 2015 and 2020.”
“Fuck, we probably landed in the Trump administration,” he says, rubbing his face. “Just our fucking luck.”
“We just need to survive long enough to repair the ship.”
“Yeah, because if there’s one thing we’re great at, it’s ship repairs.”
“You know what doesn’t help? This shit,” says Clarke, mild, but with just enough of an edge to snap him out of it.
“You’re the optimist here,” he says. “But I’ll go with it. So—what’s the plan?”
She looks around the ship, thoughtful. “First step is figuring out if the replicators work and if we have anything we can sell without compromising the timeline.”
a harry potter au where potions is taught by gordon ramsay
neville: *messes up his potion*
gordon ramsay: *holds neville between two slices of bread* what are you
neville: an idiot sandwich
no no no!
Imagine that this is Gordon Ramsay a la Masterchef Junior
Neville: *messes up the potion, realizes it, starts crying quietly*
GR: What’s going on?
Neville: *explains how he messed up*
GR: Oh gosh okay…we can fix this, don’t cry, see, it’s fine now? Just be more careful when you’re adding the Newt’s eyes, all right? Drop them in gently. There we go. No more tears.
Neville: *giggles wetly, wiping eyes*
Yes, he only screams when he’s dealing with people that claim to know what they’re doing and clearly dont, when he’s teaching he’s very kind and patient because they’re still learning.
He’d probably do the bread thing to Malfoy.
nononononono. I get that Malfoy is a bit of a twat, but he’s still a kid. It’d be the teachers fucking up that he’d have trouble with.
Ramsay: All you had to do was treat it with a fucking Beozar!
Slughorn: It was a stressfu-
Ramsay: How long have you been teaching potions?!
or
Ramsay: So you’re going to raise this boy SPECIFICALLY so he can die as part of your twisted little scheme?
Dumbledore: It’s for the greater good, professor.
Ramsay: The greater fucking good?! *holds two slices of bread either side of dumbledoor’s face* What are you?
My favorite Gordon Ramsey moment is from the latest season of Master Chef Jr.
Gordon had run in to help a group of struggling kids with a team challenge and one of the older kids, a 12 year old boy, wasn’t passing attention while taking a pan out of the oven and not only spilled all the food but scalded Gordon.
It’s clear Gordon’s leg is in pain. He’s been badly burned without warning. But he doesn’t scream. He doesn’t yell, not even in pain, and he doesn’t go off on the child who is now frozen in fear. He calmly tells the child to set the pan down and to close the oven, safety first. Then tells him to go restart the food he was making, calm instructions.
My husband and I grew up in abusive homes where any mistake meant parents getting angry (my husband is terrified of spills or broken glasses because that meant beatings growing up, for me, anything going wrong, that could upset my mother, even if it wasn’t my fault meant screaming and emotional abuse).
I didn’t know someone could be so calm. That someone could not get angry, and put aside what they’re feeling (in this case a lot of physical pain) and not take it out on those around them, even when someone around them had messed up, because that person is a child.
Gordon Ramsey is a survivor of child abuse himself and as an adult, the most non-abusive person ever when it comes to kids.
im going to cry can gordon ramsey be my parent this sound so beautiful
Please take a moment to picture Gordon Ramsay taking over Potions when Snape becomes the DADA professor (instead of Slughorn) and not only being horrified when he realizes how terrified the students are that he’ll verbally abuse them when they mess up in Potions class but when he overhears how Snape treats students. Like can you IMAGINE the level of RAGE and CONTEMPT that Ramsay would harbor towards Snape? The asshat wouldn’t have made it to the end of HBP. Ramsay would’ve hexed his ass to kingdom come.
Rebloging ALL of this because Chef Ramsay is THE MAN!
-HC
Chef Ramsay would have become the kids’ favourite teacher and you can’t take that away from me.
Imagine him dealing with Umbridge
Every time I reblog this post, I swear to God, it only gets better.
1. When she’s going from the top of a building to the ground floor, she never takes the stairs, or the elevator. No, she jumps, and lands with a MASSIVE smile on her face.
2. Will occasionally use her lasso to swing from things and pretend to be Batman.
3. Switches languages mid-sentence whenever she’s talking to Billy, just to see if he can keep up. He always can.
4. Whenever a group of children starts playing near her, she automatically and without fail joins the game. Parents have stories of the time they met Wonder Woman patiently listening to their children explain the rules of freeze tag.
5. Is well aware that she is the only woman that Hal Jordan finds too intimidating to flirt with, so she aggressively flirts with him instead just to watch him get flustered.
6. Worst puns in the Justice League. In 600 languages.
7. Makes frequent “when I was your age” jokes that refer to ancient historical events that she could not possibly have been there for.
8. Curates multiple fandom blogs on subjects as diverse as Greek tragedy, Star Wars, anime, and board games. Spends her monitor duty updating those blogs instead of working because “Athena will tell me if anything happens.”
9. Anytime a mythological figure is mentioned, no matter from what mythology or whether they’re real or not, responds, “oh yeah, they owe me money.”
10. Keeps stealing Bruce’s planes, because they all have cloaking technology that renders them near-invisible and she claims she “couldn’t tell the difference.”
I’m going to be collaborating with @chromapulse on some of these from now on, so if you’re enjoying this you should watch their blog too.
Question of Smoke 