tv shows with time travel organizations/bureaus/police/agencies/whatever should have a department with instead of a tech genius eating candy, it’s a harried seamstress or fashion designer who is like
“1450 italy? does it look like I have the time to dye you wool? nO. YOU’RE GOING TO THE 1980s”
and throws shoulder pads at the hapless time agent
“I literally made three- THREE- 18th century corsets last week. You can wait until one of them gets back, or you can go sometime post-1920s, because if I have to sew one more god damn channel I will literally lose my mind.”
“Upper middle class?!?!? You told me upper class! FUCK YEAH THERE’S A DIFFERENCE!!!”
“How about kimoNO.”
“Look me in the eyes. I do not care what you want. This is the 1500s. You absolutely cannot wear trousers.”
“Another court gown?? Here’s a novel idea: go as a peasant for once in your life. Why do you do this to me? You’re fucking sadists that’s why.”
“Don’t mind me, I’ll just be up all night hand painting silk.”
“THE POLICY IS ONE MONTH’S ADVANCE NOTICE ON PRE-1900s WOMEN’S FASHION FOR A REASON, DEBRA.”
a lesser known fact: if a hungarian person ever says ‘oh this is too spicy’, the police arrives at their door in 0.2 seconds, revoke their id card and citizenship, and said person has to leave the country in an hour
me, eating whole raw chilli peppers by the fistful: this is how a true Hungarian dies for their country!!
I don’t ship Drarry but with that being said, I will accept no other Drarry prompt than them stubbornly competing to outdo the other for the sheer drama.
It starts off when they’re still enemies in the Goblet of Fire. Draco makes a taunt about who Harry’s going to ask to the Yule Ball and how they must be from the worst of the worst lot and Harry rolls his eyes and says, “Well, fitting you say that, Malfoy, because I was going to ask you.” A perfect zing, Harry. 10/10.
But now the ball’s in Draco’s court and obviously he’s not going to pass up on the chance to humiliate the scarhead so he takes the most logical route of humiliation and calls out his bluff: “Fine, Potter, I reckon we’re going.”
But do you think Harry James Potter is just going to back down? That stubborn teenager is going to stare Draco down and say, “Reckon we are.”
Ron’s confused and Hermione’s confused and literally the entire castle is confused but Harry’s satisfied because he called out a bluffer’s counterbluff with a bluff of his own. And they just keep it up.
“I suppose you don’t even know how to dance, Potter?”
The furious teenager who spent years having to watch soapbox dramas with Mrs. Figg just glares at him in his stupid dress robes. “I know some things.”
“Prove it.”
“Fine.”
It’s like that for days until Draco makes the ultimate power move by inviting Harry to the Malfoy’s Annual New Years Eve Ball, taking out a Daily Prophet ad no less, because oh, oh, he’s got Potter now. He’ll never accept and he’ll be humiliated in front of the entire wizarding world. And do you think Harry’s just going to go down without a fight? God, no, he’s going to win whatever the hell this is because he’s Harry Potter, Draco better be worried, oh boy.
They’re still going at it six months later.
“Err—Malfoy?” Crabbe says. “Potter just sent you a dozen roses?”
“That son of a bitch! Send a box of chocolates. That’ll show him.”