#he was re-buried with respect to his final wish

[seachranaidhe]

#OTD in 1977 – A group of Republicans tunneled into the concrete under the cover of darkness and retrieved Frank Stagg’s body to be re-buried with respect to his final wish, beside his fellow hunger striker and friend, Michael Gaughan.

There is a grave in Leigue Cemetery, Ballina, Co Mayo which has a concrete surface, placed there by the Gardaí in 1976, to prevent Frank Stagg’s body from being stolen. Forty-two years ago, the body was removed from the grave, during the night, without disturbing the concrete, and buried elsewhere in the cemetery. When Stagg…#OTD in 1977 – A group of Republicans tunneled into the concrete under…

[ilovefakemilitarymen]

Deal with the Devil

~Professor!John Price x Student!Reader (Part Two)

____________________________

Read Part One Here: x

Requests are currently open!

Word Count: ~3.6K

CW: Minors Do Not Interact, NSFW, Smut, Inappropriate Teacher/Student Relationships, Sexual Tension, Praise Kink, Name Calling (good girl, sweetheart), not really much aftercare, AFAB Reader, She/Her Pronouns, Face Fucking, Fingering.

When you finally make it to class, Price is nowhere to be seen. You were a few minutes early, hoping to be as pointed as he usually is, trying to see if there was anything else he needed for the day. A few other students file into class behind you and you take your usual place, sitting in the front row. There aren't many students that actually show up to his class anymore, most of them just take the failure on their transcript or drop the class altogether.

You’d like to think that Price had respected your determination, and that's why he had agreed to the extra credit in the first place.

You’re half-buried in your textbook when he finally walks in, coffee in hand. He offers you a simple smile, as well as the rest of the students. He always extends kindness to his students, so you don’t expect special treatment, however, it still comes.

“Sleep well?” He finally looks over to you, talking low as he sits his bag against his desk. It takes you off guard slightly. You only give him a small nod, your eyes following his face, and he moves to sit at the edge of his desk.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” The question seems to fall on deaf ears as no one replies to him, but despite that, he begins his lecture anyway.

You fall into staring at him, watching as he moves back and forth in front of the whiteboard, jotting down terms and dates. You can’t get yourself to focus on a single one with how his pants hug his thighs nicely, nearly busting out of the seams with one small misstep. You watch as he moves, eyes taking in every inch of the man. Somewhere in the depths of your mind, you had wished he would have just asked to fuck you in return for extra credit. He just exudes the kind of energy of a man that’s good in bed.

When your eyes finally move to his face, he’s watching you. He gives you a small smirk, and you can barely hide the flush at being caught. He probably knows about your not-so-little infatuation with him and the fact that he didn’t take advantage of it directly when you had asked for extra credit just made him so much more attractive to you. You try your best to focus on your notes, swearing to deny anything he says to you about the staring.

Finally, he begins to wipe away the information on the whiteboard, clearing his throat and you realize that you’ve spent well over forty-five minutes just drinking him in. You curse to yourself, another class directly down the drain, and swear to yourself that you’ll read and re-read the chapter he had gone over several times before you go to sleep tonight.

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” He finally speaks to the class, and you hang back as the others leave. The lump in your throat forms at being caught staring at him multiple times. You need to tell him about his meeting, the damn meeting.

When he finally does speak up to you, you had fully expected to be called out, but he leaves it in the air between the two of you, focusing on your agreement instead, “What does the rest of my day look like?” He finally looks over to you, dusting his hands off and leaning against the front of his desk.

You cough, trying to collect your composure and glancing at the clock, “You have a meeting in about an hour.” When you finally speak it sounds rehearsed, and you know he catches on. He’s a smart man, a very smart man. You know you look absolutely ridiculous to him right now.

“Right, I almost forgot about that one,” He nods as he keeps talking, his gaze moving to the clock, “I’m gonna need you to come with me to that…to take some notes.” His eyes move back to you to gauge your reaction. His eyes were stern and you give him a nod before looking down at your clothes.

You don’t look bad by any means, but jeans and a tee shirt is definitely not business attire, “Should I go change? This is hardly professional.” You speak, unsure of your words but he just gives you a small laugh.

“It’s nothing important, just meeting with a couple of colleagues. You look fine. I just need you there to keep me on track.” You watch him, arms crossed against his chest and you give him a small smile as you nod to him.

“I can do that.”

“I’m sure you can,” He smirks at his words before he jerks his head towards the door, signaling you to follow him and you hurriedly grab your things and make your way out.

You pick up the pace, trying to settle into a good stride right beside him. It was a nice stroll through the grounds, but the weather was poor, so many of the students could be found hiding away in their respective dorms. Some part of you was happy about that; not wanting to explain why you were with the professor.

It doesn’t take long until he shuffles you into a small conference room and all eyes are on you, and you wonder what they think of you. Teacher’s Pet. New Teacher’s Assistant. You just hope they all assume you’d signed up to be his TA. He takes a seat among his colleagues, and you have to admit, he lives up to the drill sergeant comment that the other student had made. He commands a room like no other.

You sit silently as the meeting starts, jotting down things that seem important. There’s a comment about another meeting and you write that in the margins of his planner, keeping it in the forefront of your brain, needing to put it in your own so you don’t forget to remind him about it.

It goes on without a hitch, but, with the slight smell of coffee and tobacco, Price leans in to whisper in your ear, “Jot that down,” and his hand taps on the notebook you had splayed in front of you. You try to hide the way your breath gets caught in your throat, but you know he’s way too close to ignore it. You keep your eyes on the notebook, but with all honesty, you don’t even know what to write down, all the thoughts in your head blocking out what the other men say in favor of pulling the feeling of his breath on your ear to the forefront of your mind.

You’re sure he can hear your heartbeat from here and you move your hand up to chew at your nails, trying to conceal the slight flush on your cheeks. It does no good, and you can only silently thank any god that would listen that nobody else has eyes on you.

Nobody else but him.

Your hands are shaking when you try to write down the next thing being said, and it’s honestly no use but you try anyway.

“You’re doing good,” His words are quiet as they filter into your ears, and this time, your eyes shoot over to look at him, and he, surprisingly, looks slightly proud of himself. The praise is what finally breaks you, and you know he knows it.

You pull your eyes away from him, readjusting yourself in your seat and trying your best to pretend to be okay. Pretend like his words weren’t setting you on fire in the seat and tearing you apart.

The meeting finally comes to a close and you quickly shut the notebook and planner, shoving it into your bag and Price is waiting for you at the door when you finally gather your things. There’s a wet heat between your legs and you silently curse yourself for letting him rile you up so much.

He’s doing it on purpose. You’re not for sure, but the proud look on his face says it all.

The walk back to his office is silent, too silent, and you stray slightly behind him as you try to keep his eyes off of you as much as possible.

Your mind is stuck on the feeling of his breath and the way it had fanned against your face, tickling your throat. It sticks a lump there that you can’t swallow down.

When Professor Price finally unlocks the door to his office, he finally speaks, “You seem a little quiet, is there something on your mind?” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, only opening the door and you follow him inside.

The room is dimly lit, yellow light from the small lamp in the corner resting on the both of you.

“Yeah, but I got some good notes for you.” You feign ignorance.

You know what he’s talking about, but the embarrassment keeps the words you want to say to him from coming out. You don’t let him know that you would much rather him push you up against the wall and fuck you right there. You don’t tell him you want to feel his fingers wrap around your throat.

You don’t tell him because he probably knows.

You feel like a wild animal backed into a corner.

In the small room, just you and him, and you didn’t see that he had clicked the lock on your way in.

“You know, Ms. (l/n),” Price finally speaks again, and your hands shake at your sides, “I’m not a stupid man.” He leans against the heavy wood desk when he finally speaks again, and this is it. This is when he finally fails you. “Did I distract you?” His words are heavy when they finally leave his lips.

“Maybe,” It’s the only thing you can get to leave your lips, and you curse yourself for not being more confident. His gaze tears you down, opening you up for him to see all the attraction. The need for him evident on your features.

“How would you feel if I told you that you’re distracting to me as well,” His words are low, just between the two of you despite being the only ones in the room, “When you stare at me the way you do, can barely get through a lecture with your eyes on me.”

You stay silent, words unable to form in your throat, but he finally continues, “Won’t you be a good girl for me and get on your knees? I’ll show you how much you distract me.”

With that, the dam finally breaks.

“Yes sir,” You barely get the words out and your bag is all but thrown to the floor, resting against the wall, and your eyes stay on his face when you move, knees bending, sending a jolt through you when they finally hit the ground in front of him.

He looks so good in this lighting, and your hands shake as they reach for the front of his pants.

His own hands catch yours before they finally reach him, stilling you and you look back up to his face. There’s a slight worry etched across his features when he speaks, “You can tell me no, sweetheart,” His words take you off guard, “You say the word and you can leave and I’ll still give you the extra credit.”

Somehow, the fact that he wanted to make sure this was a mutual thing only makes you more turned on. You nod to him, trying to find your words, and they barely come out as a whisper to him, “I want to,” You speak and he nods, moving his hand away from your hands to press it against your chin. His thumb rubs sweetly at your cheek, tracing the outline of your lips as you look up at him, eyes staring wide into his.

“You’re such a good girl.” He speaks, thumb pulling your lip down and his hands and the praise almost has your mind in pieces. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, and you swear it almost pulls a whine out of you. His other hand moves to grab your stalled hands, still resting just before the waistband of his pants before he pulls them closer to him, pressing them against the button.

Your hands finally start moving again, unbuttoning his jeans. You pull down the zipper finally, the sound of it so loud in the small room. When you dip your hands into his underwear, his thumb presses into your lips and he swears, and you open your mouth for him, letting him rest his thumb against your tongue as you finally pull his cock out of his pants.

He feels heavy in your hand, your soft skin wrapped around his length and your eyes finally dart down, taking him all in before moving back to look at his eyes. His hand pulls you in, pulling you closer to him as you stroke him a few times, finally moving to press a small kiss against the tip, and his hand moves to brush a piece of your hair behind your ear before it rests on the top of your head.

He grunts when you finally take him into your mouth, the soft, wet heat pulling him in as your eyes watch his face. “Fuck,” the curse filters into the silent room, and he runs an encouraging hand through your hair. The musky smell of him filling your nose and only pushing you further down onto him. You pull back, letting him out of your mouth with a small pop before you move your hand and try to take him all into your mouth.

“That’s it, such a good girl for me…” His words are darker now, dripping from his tongue seductively and you start bobbing your head, his hand moving to thread into your hair before he moves it to pet your face. It’s intoxicating, his encouragement, the light touches, and you can’t help but whine with him in your mouth, legs rubbing together to search for some kind of relief.

His eyes close and his hand is resting on your chin now, cupping your face as you move, a light groan pushing itself past his lips. “That feels so good, sweetheart, you’re doing so good.” His praise is the only thing in your mind, urging you forward as you attempt to take all of him into your mouth. Your hands move to rest against his hips as his hand moves to grip the hair at the back of your head. Your nose pushes into him, and you gag around him before moving back and his hips move of his own accord, thrusting lightly into your mouth.

The tip hits the back of your throat, pulling a gag out of your mouth. You’re heavily out of practice, but you can’t help the way your hands pull at him, practically begging him to thrust back into your mouth, to use it however he needs to get off. It sends a shiver down your spine, the way his eyes go dark before he thrusts into your mouth again, hand tightening on the strands of hair he’s pulled into his grip. You moan as the tip presses heavy into the back of your throat and he snaps his hips back before plunging himself back into your mouth.

“You’re doing so good,” His words fall out of his mouth like honey as his hips thrust his cock deeper into your lips, and you finally pull one of your hands from his hips to unbutton your own jeans and push your own fingers into your wet heat and he practically growls as he watches you. “That pretty mouth of yours, taking me so well.”

You hold your gags back as he uses your mouth, his pants hitting hard against your chin, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. He could tear you apart and you would just thank him for it afterwards. You moan as he continues fucking into your mouth, the vibrations running along his cock and he lets out a moan. You rub at yourself lightly, the wet sounds your mouth is making only pushing you closer to your own release. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but it’s so fucking good that you don’t want him to stop.

“You’re gonna swallow it all, yeah?” His voice is husky when it leaves his mouth, hips faltering in his thrusts and you try your best to give him a nod, but the heavy hand holding your hair only allows for you to barely do so.

His hips stutter as praises fall from his lips, along with a low growl and you can feel when his pleasure finally comes to a peak and he releases into your mouth.

After a few moments, his hand comes to rest on your chin again, pulling you off of him and opening your mouth so he can look at the mess he had made against your tongue. You look at him through your lashes as you close your mouth and make a show of swallowing him down, and you finally speak, your voice coming out whiny and rough from the way he had abused your mouth, “Touch me, please, touch me, sir.” You lean back against your calves, hand against the floor, making a show of touching yourself.

He’s on the floor with you in record time, sitting on his knees and you can barely move your hand before his own is slipping into your pants, rubbing at your clit before he slips two fingers into you. He watches the way your face contorts as a moan escapes your lips at the stretch. “I think you’ve earned some attention, haven’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” Your words break as they leave your mouth, a heavy moan following them out as he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing hard against the spot that feels so fucking good that it has you falling apart. His palm presses against your clit as he continues to pull out of you and push back in.

“So wet for me…” His words send a shiver down you, and you whine, your hand moving to grip his arm as the pleasure takes over your entire form. “You like that, don’t you? Love my fingers in you.”

“Fuckin’ love it,” Your words mix with his before he can even get them out of his mouth, and your brain is mush, mumbling incoherent sounds as your other arm gives out as you lay back on the floor, letting him have his way with you, fingers pushed deep in your cunt.

“You look so pretty like that, all fucked out and I haven’t even fucked you yet,” His words are low, barely there, but they push you closer to your release. It’s nearly embarrassing how he has you laid out on his office floor, rough fingers fucking into you and his palm pushing you further and further, but you don’t care, would let him do it as much as he damn well pleases, using you however he wants.

Pleas and chants fall from your lips when you finally tumble over the edge with him whispering praises of how good of a girl you are for him, and your back nearly arches off of the ground when he speaks, “That’s it, fuck,” And his other hand moves to your face, wiping your hair out of your face as he pumps his fingers into you through your release.

He finally pulls his hands out of your pants, bringing fingers up to his mouth to taste you, and it only causes you to whine as you come down from your high. His hand is heavy on your cheek, thumb rubbing sweetly before he finally stands up, fixing himself in his pants.

There’s just something about being on the floor under him, watching as he fixes himself as if nothing had happened between you as you’re thoroughly spent under him. You pull yourself up onto your elbows, using them to move back to your knees and he leans over to you, hand finding its way back to your face, caressing the skin of your cheek before he speaks, “Clean yourself up, beautiful, and get back to your studies.” His words are back to normal and your eyes roam over his face. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” A small smirk plays on his lips as he moves to sit at his desk, watching as you fix yourself.

There’s a slight satisfied grin on his face as he watches you and you move over to your bag to pull out a hair tie to pull your hair up, forgoing even the attempt to try and get the tangles out of it before you pull it up into a bun to try to hide the mess as much as you can. You know your lips are swollen and the light layer of sweat against your skin is starting to dry disgustingly, but his eyes on you just make you feel like you're the most beautiful thing in the world.

You get up off the floor, moving to pull your bag over your shoulder and leave, but his hand catches your wrist, pulling you over to where he sits before he presses a small kiss to your lips. You hadn’t expected the tenderness out of him but it’s welcome, and you give him a small smile before you head for the door.

You think, just for a moment, that you’re gonna milk this agreement for as much enjoyment as possible.

[jeridoesntdourls]

Saw @vesuviaweekly 's prompt for MC dynamics wanted to talk more about my guys!! Sadly I have not completely nailed their designs yet so for now I'm just going with text! I personally treat my MCs as less of MCs and more like LIs so I'm gonna also include what I think their dynamic with the MC themselves would be! As you'll notice my MCs are all residents of a country I made for the Arcana universe myself if you want you can see more about that here. Minos' entry is a bit undercooked but I'm rushing to post this before the deadline ends LMAO. All of these gorgeous banners are by @cafekitsune

edit: put in a link I forgot to put the first time lmao-

BOREA NORCHE // she/they

with the MC

Borea knew MC before they died of the plague and worked alongside them and Asra to find a cure. She succumbed to the plague herself only a few weeks after MC and was buried beside them as her last wish. She was brought back by making a deal with the Heirophant and not knowing MC was brought back by Asra, debated staying in Vesuvia to stay near MC or to leave and look for Asra. They ended up unable to do either and were ordered to return to their home country, Tua, by the Heirophant. She returned to keep her end of the deal but both her and Tua had dramatically changed. On her arrival she began to keep her emotions in and dutifully began to work as Tua's magic consultant.

At some point MC, along with the LIs, would take a trip to Tua (for diplomatic reasons as Tua has a considerably new government now running it) and Borea would be one of the more respected officials at the Syndicate meeting. Asra had heard from Nadia about the more prominent figures that would frequent this meeting but, still believing that Borea has died, hadn't thought much of it.

After they first encounter her at the meeting Asra evades her and tries to explain their relationship to the MC as they have not gotten a hold of all of their memories. He is unable to explain in time and is interrupted by Borea herself who began looking for the MC.

Their dynamic in this Era is very different than it was in the Plague times. Borea is, at first, in denial, she embraces the MC and they have a bout of their headaches, this makes Borea only more desperate which makes her hold on even tighter. Only Asra is able to separate them from the MC and pull them aside to explain what happened.

Borea is absolutely crushing under the weight of everything, running a new government, meeting the two closest friends she's ever had after years of assuming she'd never see them again and having to learn about MC's resurrection makes her even more prone to completely isolating herself from the Vesuvian guests. She eventually has to converse with Nadia and, ever observant as she is, makes Borea explain her adversion to them.

From them on Nadia slowly begins to work to re introduce both Asra and the MC to Borea. At first she's a force to be respected, acting professional to an absurd degree but that facade begins to decay into something nervous and unsure. MC has to reassure her that her feelings are important and need to be felt (in her upright end at least) and she begins to explore her pent up anger and longing with them.

I would describe their final dynamic as old married couple(ish) in that they have SO MANY idiosyncrasies and can practically read each other's mind. Borea is very much a closed off and firm individual for anyone other than their family, MC and Asra. With those people, she is able to express that reckless curiosity and boyish side she had hid for so many years.

with Asra

They have a very similar dynamic with Asra than with the MC. The only difference is that Asra ALSO has a tendency to run from his problems so Nadia has to work overtime to make them both talk to each other. It takes a mishap with the Buzia House and Borea stepping in to rescue the group to make them talk to each other.

They work in compleat harmony but after they get to safety they go back to being unable to have a conversation longer than three exchanges. Despite that, Borea refuses to leave Asra's side, keeping watch for any other threats to his safety. In doing this Borea over exerts herself and Asra has to make her take a break before she colapses in a meeting.

They go over their years apart, recounting tails and making each other laugh. Slowly they begin to work together again as Mage Commissioners.

Their dynamic is honestly the one which would take the longest to happen. Very much an AGONIZINGLY slow burn and re kindling. Asra needs to work through so much guilt in regards to leaving Borea behind and Borea, like in MCs route, also needs to work in being honest with her feelings and losening her grip on relationships she think she'll lose.

with Nadia

With Nadia she has the most light hearted dynamic, very much liege and ruler but the roles keep switching between them both. They're both givers and Nadia really is the best person to make Borea learn how to actually accept being the one receiving.

On Nadia's route we also get more of a focus on the politics of Tua and the conflict between the new Syndicate government and the Buzia House's integration into it.

overall

Dates with her definitely include stargazing and going to the beach at any time but especially at night. She'll be at home to just nerd out about the constellations and the planets, even reconstructing their partner's favorite ones with their orbs.

Relationships include lots of late nights and reassurance. She has a tendency to try and do everything for her partner, so she needs someone who can make her slow down and take care of herself. She would love a partner who is also proficient in magic and who can help her create laws and boundaries for the new Tuan government.

ATTIS SALVO // he/him

with the MC

Attis is exceptionally cheerful at first meeting. As he is one of only members of the Buzia House willing to collaborate with the Tuan government he feels the need to keep up the appearance of harmlessness to not potentially cause a rift between the two opposing sides.

He's very much used to working alone. Loves his community and family will all his might but the weight of the future falls into his shoulders most times. This, combined with the fact that he really can't entrust his problems onto that community (his sister specifically) because they continuously judge any action he takes makes him weary about working with anyone else.

Working with the MC to ensure the exchange doesn't cause another civil war really strains him at first. He's lived through a bloody revolution and his family only became the engineers and weapon makers that they are because of Vesuvia's betrayal. That history along with his personal habits of doing things alone cause him to be weary of the MC at first. That weariness only ever comes out in passive aggressiveness, he's very adverse to any conflict after years of playing diplomat.

This relationship really only changes when his parents pass and he, along with his sister, are left to rule over the entire House. Under all the additional stress he begins to impulsively turn to the MC as a distraction. MC needs to make it clear that they actually feel something for him or else he'll continue to use them eternally.

He's the oldest out of these three characters which means he's had lots of experience with partners, none of them ending well. When MC first confesses they do feel something for him, he's in shock and already making some excuse as to why they wouldn't work.

MC would notice his panic and have to calm him down for him to notice that he also feels something for MC, even if that something isn't as clear cut as MC's feelings.

with Julian

Attis only notices Julian after his parents passing when rumors begin spreading that they were assassinated by the Tuan Syndicate who used the Vesuvian's to infiltrate the Buzia House.

Julian, sketchy as ever, is high on Attis' suspect list. This list is kept hidden from the public and he'll talk about how false he believes the rumors are to anyone who will listen.

He tracks Julian down and as a last resort, Julian uses his charms to try and escape. For the first time in his life, it actually works and he is able to momentarily flee.

After that they fall into a pattern of cat and mouse and feelings develop much to Attis' dismay.

Julian's confession and Attis' reaction play out similarly to MC's but Julian stumbles and trips over himself to explain that he didn't kill anyone which makes Attis reach over to comfort him.

overall

He's very sensitive even though he keeps his emotions to himself, he's prone to crying over things that have already been resolved and just ignores any emotions that aren't productive because "he's got a job to do."

Also very prone to falling back into nostalgia, that longing for things that have passed ossifies him and keeps him from doing anything productive so he keeps those memories for when he's alone.

His dynamic with a partner would make him a lot more playful, he feels as if he finally has someone who understands him and is in HIS corner.

Dates include just staying home and letting the sun pass by. He's never intent to sit still for too long so he'll fiddle with the clasps of his revolvers or his partner's hand.

I'm not sure what I'd describe their dynamic as but I think Two Idiots in Love covers it well.

MINOS FERNI // she/he/they

with the MC

Minos is a pretty difficult person to get into a relationship with. Even if they like a person romantically they fervently ignore it both in fear of being rejected and their own self sabotaging ways.

They were born into the Heilist church and even after its reformation by the new Syndicate, they inwardly still believe the old doctrine. That includes the ideia of a cycle in which humanity is doomed to commit the same mistakes and suffer infinitely, the old Heilist god would then forgive humanity for their treasons at the time of death and welcome them into the sky.

Minos believes that any break out of that cycle (the revolutions and the new goverment) would forego the forgiveness given to him by God. So, his dynamic with an MC would have to be SLOW. like VERY slow. and very patient. At first it's almost certain that Minos would dislike them and it's only after comming to terms with their repression that they might be open to the thought that MAYBE they like the MC.

Mino's main emotion is guilt. Guilt for not attending to God as he should and guilt for not attending to his community, its only when he realizes that those two things overlap that he can hope to move on to a less painful existence (in his upright end at least). Their relationship in the later staged reminds me of Martin and Jon's dynamic from TMA. Hes trying his best not to be a tyrannical force of magical horror.

with Lucio

Minos hates hin at first. Its very rare for them but his pompous nature and disregard for consequences makes Minos crack and finally show some of their true own true nature. Ironically enough its this initial crack that opens the floodgates of Minos' person. They begin to hunt Lucio down as a way to try and make things go back to how they were. Very much a Hannnibal and Will adjacent pairing. (Lucio in this AU/expansion of sorts is a lot less silly)

with Muriel

haven't put much thought into this pairing but i think that if they both got past their inicial distaste for each other they woukd work out wonderfully.

overall

Don't think she would go on dates but she'd definitely take MC sightseeing and show them around the more historical spots around the city. They would be a very devoted lover (a little obsessive if im honest) and only ever vulnerable with them. Honesty and grappling with their own identity are still new to them so they would definitely need someone who's ready to spend nights on the church roof talking things over and putting things into perspective.

[daybreakrising]

HEADCANONS - M.ENOGIAS & MOUNTAIN SHAPER

okay i said it was coming, and here it is. get ready to dive into the chaos that is my meno brain- also, for reference, i have a deep hatred for the npc treatment both mountain shaper & moon carver received in game, so my visual for a humanoid mountain shaper is more along the lines of this artwork. (source - includes moon carver!)

i've already touched on this a little in this hc post, but i believe m.enogias & mountain shaper are connected, beyond that of allies and friends. we know from this year's lantern rite that he and moon carver knew m.enogias well, with hints that they were close as old friends, both of them reminiscing about his craftsmanship skills. (i also have some theories about the unknown third adeptus who helped to seal a.zhdaha alongside mountain shaper and moon carver, which i may touch on in another post one day-)

but then why specifically mountain shaper, lauri? well, as briefly touched upon in that other hc post, there are elements of mountain shaper that lean more towards an affinity with geo - his colour scheme is common amongst other geo characters (also pyro, i recognise, but let me cook), and his use of amber rock, which is considered a geo construct.

of course, my brain has taken these things and run with them - thus it is my opinion that m.enogias & mountain shaper had a closer bond through their affinity with geo. it's already a hc of mine that m.enogias felt drawn to z.hongli for the same reason (which is partly why he was the recipient of a lot of m.enogias' designs - the man has bias, what can i say?), so why not be drawn to other geo-aligned adepti, too?

MT. HULAO

m.enogias chose mountain shaper's domain to act as his "home" because of this close bond. he could often be found within the vicinity of the mountain when not with his yaksha siblings and his favoured spot for meditation was at the mountain's peak, above the entrance to mountain shaper's abode (he had a secondary meditation spot, too, overlooking the water outside the entrance - pictures of exact locations found at the end of this meta, under a cut bc Big).

due to their bond, mountain shaper even permitted m.enogias to live within his abode whenever he wished, and accommodated him well - there was even a chamber dedicated to his craft where m.enogias was free to work in his preferred solitude, as few were (and are) permitted within the adeptus' abode.

despite this internal space, m.enogias also had an outdoor workspace that he would use frequently - though he claimed it was entirely because of the natural light it offered, this was in fact only part of the reasoning for his use of an outdoor space: another was simply that he wished to allow mountain shaper his own privacy given that it is his home. it was out of respect for his fellow adeptus that he did not 'overstay his welcome' inside the abode.

this outdoor workspace was situated atop an elevated area at the peak of the mountain, overlooking qingyun peak and beyond (where the teleport waypoint is now located) - this was a favoured view of m.enogias'. he constructed a vast stone table upon which to work, carved with geometric shapes and lines, amongst which could be found symbols that represented his siblings, r.ex l.apis, g.uizhong, and the three adepti of the peaks: mountain shaper, moon carver, and cloud retainer. the table was a work of art in itself - and sadly is no longer there, as when m.enogias fell, the great table cracked into pieces.

it is rumoured amongst the adepti, however, that mountain shaper kept the pieces - they sit on display within the chamber he gave to m.enogias, surrounded by sketched designs and half-finished garments, it is said.

because this was m.enogias' favourite place in l.iyue, and because of mountain shaper's importance to him, m.orax buried the crystal heart left behind after his death deep beneath mt. hulao, to act as his final resting place (in his resurrected au verse, this is also where m.enogias reawakens).

A DEEP CONNECTION

listen... if you didn't expect this, you clearly don't know me well enough yet-

though it was never named or really addressed formally, there was a romantic element to the bond shared between m.enogias & mountain shaper - at least, from m.enogias' side. whether it was reciprocated or not i am deliberately leaving vague (on the rare chance a ms muse will pop up, please i am begging you-), likewise whether or not it was acted upon is... also vague.

i will say, however, that m.enogias' views on romance and relationships are... fairly open. he is content both with fleeting and committed bonds, and he is happy to be involved in poly relationships as well as monogamous ones. the connection he had with mountain shaper was enough for him, regardless of what form it took.

VISUAL REFERENCES

i just wanted to include some images to show the exact locations mentioned to add some context - these will all be under a cut bc i don't want people to have to scroll past a series of huge screenshots adfkjgnlfkh

first, his favourite spot for meditation, atop the peak above mountain shaper's abode:

second, his other preferred spot to meditate, overlooking the water at the entrance to the abode:

third, the spot where his stone table used to sit - the view it overlooked (left) & its location in relation to mountain shaper's abode (right):

and fourth, the spot at the base of mt. hulao where he reawakens in his resurrected verse:

behind this waterfall is a concealed entrance that m.orax used when he first buried m.enogias' crystal heart beneath the mountain - use of the geo element is required to open it.

[pepperycar]

“On the loose!” Chapter 8: The Star spirits mercy -part 1

Peach and Toad were at first surprised by this, but then they realised Star Spirits May not exist in Brooklyn or the rest of the bros world. Toad finally spoke up, trying not to cry and speak clearly “They’re- they’re protectors of our world from above. They’re the ones who let wishes rest on Star Hill to let people’s wishes be granted.. they’re highly respected and VERY powerful, me and the Princess were praying they’d have mercy on him but.....” Toad trailed off as he noticed Mario’s skin grow paler and paler. Luigi pressed his forehead to Mario’s still tearful “I.. I got him.. killed..” as soon as Luigi said those words, he felt a pain in his chest, Toad behind him gently rubbing circles in his back “he saved my life.. and didn’t even know it..” he let out a choked sob as he cuddled his older brothers cold, dead body in his arms before he started to hum a little lullaby, with him gently massaging Mario’s scalp “you’re the one who understands.. the scars who made me who I am. Through the drifting sands of time, I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine.. and if you should ever bare a heavy load, I’ll-I’ll be the wheels I’ll be the road.. I’ll see us through, through thick an-and t-thin.. through love.. and loss.. until the end..” Luigi pressed a kiss to Mario’s forehead before continuing “yeah you carried me with you.. f-from the h-highest of the peaks, to the darkn-ness of the bl-blue, I was just to blind to see.. like the stars in the sky, you were always guiding me, yeah.. it’s true..... you. carried. me. with. you.....” Luigi pulled him closer, holding tighter while burying his face into the crook of his neck, letting his tears fall freely. “You know..” Luigi sobbed “when we were starting our plumbing business.. Mario said that no matter what happens.. it’ll be okay because nothing could hurt us as long as we were together.. and that my love and support was enough.. but it clearly was too much.. my love for him got him killed, and when we were together, side by side.. I shouldn’t have begged to help with Bowser.. I just so desperately wanted to prove that I could be brave like him.. if he went on his own.. it would’ve-SHOULD’VE been me!” Luigi felt Peach and Toad wrap their arms around him, he then realised how much he was shaking. “Hello Princess Peach.” Said an echoey voice, Luigi jolted in surprise as he looked up to see.. stars. Seven of them, Sentient stars, though not like Lumalee, these were yellow, more straightened and even points as opposed to Lumalee, the biggest star in the middle had wrinkles and a big bushy white moustache. “Eldstar!” Peach cried as she and Toad bowed to them. Luigi remained in shock “we don’t often get wishes from royals.” Said Eldstar “however, we’d be honoured to help such a kind and loving Princess.” He Said as he bowed to her, the other six stars copying him. Luigi shot his head up “R-really?!” Luigi blubbered, now no longer caring or judging the presence and power of these star creatures “I-I’ll help! I’ll do anything!” Luigi cried “no need for that.” Said Eldstar “you all have done a great service to us time and time again, stopping that tyrant Bowser. It’s the least we could do! but..” he trialed off as he examined Mario, his heart exposed through the broken skin, literally broken with a huge gash going through it, blood and stained bits of purple soaking his chest, Eldstar hummed in thought “we may have enough power to fix his injuries, but weather he will wake up.. we can only hope.” “Do what you must!” Peach cried as tears fell down her cheeks. Eldstar nodded and signaled to the other six to gather around him, Luigi hesitantly laid him down before them, they all closed their eyes and started to hum. Soon a bright white light formed over Mario’s body and after a few tense seconds the light faded, leaving the Stars panting, visibly exhausted from using all that power. Luigi looked down, Mario’s body was completely healed but remained motionless, Luigi pressed his ear to his chest, not daring to hope.. nothing.. there was nothing.. Luigi gasped and felt his heart squeezing tight.

-To be continued.

Song from Pixar’s “Onward”

[broadsidemagazine]

"Yevtushenko, Lorca, and Bob Dylan", written by Josh Dunson

"Mr. Dylan's compositions don't fit into any pigeonhole; the minute you have one characterized, it flies away. His lyrics mix a solo sermon out of Guthrie's conversational folksay with a dash of Rimbaud's demonic imagery or even a bit of Yevtushenko's social criticism." Robert Shelton, New York Times, April 13, 1963

A lot of other people have been comparing Bob Dylan not only to Yevtushenko but to Garcia Lorca, especially after hearing Bob do his “Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall”.

It is difficult to fit any true poet in a “pigeonhole”. That's too small a space for a creative artist, too small for a roving singer like Bob Dylan. When asked how he writes his songs, Bob just says they're up there in the air, and he just picks them down, and if he didn't, somebody else would. I think there's more in this thought than merely modesty. In it there are many scatterings of truth.

Why is it when you read through great poets of different cultures and different times that much of their imagery is similar, and many times they talk about the same feelings and things? One way of answering this is to say there are certain common events all these poets see and react to -- war, love, nature, children; and that their images likewise come from common experience. The way Bob Dylan might answer it would be that these poets reached up into the same piece of air, and what they pulled down, in their individual ways, was their poems and their songs.

A number of people see Yevtushenko and Dylan as being close together. as both being social critics, and thereby playing a similar role in their respective countries. It seems to me that the impact of and the poetry itself are quite different. In Russia there is the tradition of the poet as an important social critic that dates back to Pushkin, and goes right through the Soviet period beginning with Mayakovsky and finally to the present day where Yevtushenko’s most recent book, published in 1962, sold out its edition of 100,000 copies. America's most important social critics have been her novelists, ie: Harriet B. Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and her journalists, ie: Lincoln Steffens’ Shame of the Cities. Our poets, even our popular ones like Robert Frost and Carl Sandburg, undergo book editions of 5 to 10 thousand with the publisher still taking a loss.

But we have had our great social poets, and I think when Bob’s work is fully evaluated he will number among them. Bob does not mince words when he speaks about the "masters of war”:

I hope that you die and your death will come soon, I’ll follow your casket by the pale afternoon, And I’ll watch while you’re lowered down to your death bed, Then I’ll stand over your grave ‘til I’m sure that you're dead.

Yevtushenko wishes death on the anti-semites in Babi Yar:

How horrible it is that pompous title the anti-semites calmly call themselves,  Society of the Russian Race. No part of me can ever forget it. When the last anti-semite on the earth is buried for ever let the International ring.

Yevtushenko sees in the death of the anti-semites a re-affirmation of the society in which he lives. Dylan in his songs too calls for the righting of the wrongs in his society, but they are so multitudinous and deeply imbedded what may be necessary is a new society as Woody Guthrie visualizes. A striking difference between Yevtushenko and Dylan is that Bob’s action is much more intense -- he will follow the war planner's casket to make sure that he is dead. And in “Emmett Till” he lashes out not only at the lynchers but at the great mass of us who by standing aside and failing to take action against racism permit it to continue:

If you can't speak out against this sort of thing, A crime that's so unjust,  Your eyes are filled with dead man's dirt, Your mind is filled with dust. Your arms and legs they must be in shackles and chains, Your blood must refuse to flow, For you would let this human race, Fall down so godawful low.

Intensity added to a wide-ranging view gives us this Dylan verse in “With God On Your Side” which has implications much deeper than only the problem of anti-semitism:

When the second World War came to an end We forgave the Germans and then we were friends. Though they murdered six million, In the ovens they fried, The Germans now, too Have God on their side.

I get the feeling on hearing Dylan and reading Lorca that they both pull their poems out of the same body of air, although there are marked differences and Bob has never read Lorca. It is as though they met one night on a mountainside and looked out over the world’s lands and oceans and saw the same things and agreed to tell us, each in his own way, what they saw. Bob sings: “I heard the sound of a thunder that roared out a warning” while Lorca says: “these clouds are broken by fistblows of coral that carry a fiery cocoon on their backs.”

Bob is much influenced by Woody Guthrie, of course, and I think it is here where comparisons become the most meaningful. Woody did not confine himself to “silo sermons” and those who say he “did not exceed the boundaries of talk song” should take another look at his work. His imagery many times is subtle, strong and lyrical:

I tell you about the winds and the weathers and oceans and the lands and the continents that have riz and sunk since this little hunk of dirt first whirled off the burning sun. I tell you of the men and the women that bathed their eyes in the zig zag lightning and hugged and kissed in the rumbling thunder and about every union wheel that ever did run down a union road…

Bob Dylan’s “Hard Rain” and “Blowin In The Wind” come to mind right away. He means it sincerely when he sings in his “Letter To Woody”:

Hey Woody, but I know that you know All the things that I’m sayin and many times more.

(Broadside #27, June 1963)

[ticoryblues]

Okaeri BkDk Week Day 1

Mornings/Chores/Renovations

The curtains were yanked aside, harsh sunlight scorching his closed eyes.

Izuku groaned, burying his head under the pillow. “It’s Sunday, Katsuki!”

“Thanks for stating the obvious. Now get the fuck up! We’ve got chores to do.”

Izuku didn’t move, still on his stomach.

Katsuki was the one who respected his biological clock and went to bed at an appropriate time. Yes, nine p.m is the apt bedtime for a man in the prime time of his youth.

Izuku was the type to experiment how long his body could go without sleep until he’s a human ping pong ball (his current record is thirty-two hours and no Kacchan doesn’t know, shush) and hibernate throughout the weekend.

“Ok enough is enough, I said wake up.”

No response.

Katsuki felt his eye twitch, the final thread of patience snapping.

Izuku’s danger sense flickered at the last moment as the mattress tipped over like titanic, clinging onto it for dear life.

Katsuki jerked the mattress like wringing laundry, letting Izuku fall smack on his face.

“Ow. I think you broke my nose.”

“You’ve had worse.” Katsuki placed the mattress back on the bed and kicked Izuku lightly before crossing over his fallen body to get out of the room.

At least he didn’t wake him up with the vaccum cleaner on the highest, noisiest possible setting.

Izuku yawned, scratching his neck as he entered the kitchen. “I hate you.” He said while pressing a kiss atop Katsuki’s head when he handed him his green tea.

“Like I care.” Katsuki scoffed, leaning into him. The two sat in silence by their kitchen island, shoulders pressed together.

They found solace from their chaotic hero lives in the comfortable silence of their home. Izuku wished he could just stay like this the whole day, uninterrupted.

Katsuki moved away from Izuku’s side, stretching. “Come, let’s get done with the chores.”

Izuku should have crossed his fingers. “Kacchan, it’s the one day we don’t have to call in for work. Haven’t you heard of the term relaxing?”

“You’ve been ‘relaxing’ for the past three weekends.” Katsuki rolled eyes, swatting the back of Izuku’s head lightly. “Come on Deku! You promised you’d help re-do the kitchen.”

“Yes Kacchan, I’ll get to it.” Izuku sighed, resigning himself to his fate. Renovations usually meant Katsuki using him to clean fans and the top of the kitchen cabinets; places Katsuki couldn’t reach and hence exploiting his husband’s inhumane height

Izuku looked around for something to do as Katsuki went about his share of the chores. Well, Katsuki had always been on his case to drill a couple of nails on the walls for a clock and some photos.

Picking up the electric drill, the drill needle whirring dangerously. Whistling to himself, he fixed the nail, the plaster falling off the wall—

— right where Katsuki had just finished mopping.

The look in his eyes was that of trying to incinerate Izuku on spot.

He got that look a lot.

.

.

.

“Alright, you start with cleaning the cutlery.” Katsuki brought out his extensive stash of cleaning supplies, designated washcloths for dusting, drying, one specifically for plates, one for the countertops and one for the windows.

Izuku put on his apron, soaking their wedding china in a tub full of water and dishwashing liquid. Their parents were coming for dinner tonight and Katsuki needed the set to be sparkling clean.

While drying one of the plates, the plate slipped out of his hands and Izuku’s heart almost stopped. The china fell towards the ground in slow motion, Izuku shutting his eyes. He couldn’t bear to the see the cause of his death actually play out.

He waited for the crash but it never came, cracking an eyelid open. Katsuki was kneeling on the floor, the plate clapped between his hands like he was trying to kill a mosquito.

The ‘Murder Izuku’ look was back again.

“If anything had happened to my set…” Danger sense was going off like alarm bells in his head.

Fortunately, Katsuki left it at that, going back to their work. The rest of the day went smoothly, Izuku following Katsuki around the house as he pointed at the stuff that needed to be fixed.

They didn’t talk much, Katsuki dusting the shelves while Izuku folded the laundry, an old melody playing on the radio in the background.

They didn’t need to talk. Katsuki and Izuku were never the type to explore or plan elaborate dates. They preferred a quiet evening.

The rhythmic chopping of the knife against the cutting board joined the music. Izuku was on chopping duty, sitting by the island in the kitchen, shelling peas and occasionally turning around when Katsuki asked him to taste the soup.

Basking in the silence, the top heroes of Japan could feel the stress and tension from the week bleed away as they relaxed.

Yeah, this was home.

[rickmandowneyjr]

Cuts to Cope

Angst, fluff Pairing: Severus Snape and Student!Reader (platonic) Warning: talk of self-harm, mentions of character's death Word Count: 2348 A/N: This is a little piece I wrote a while ago but didn't know if I should post or not. After re-doing certain bits, I decided to upload it. Hope it's not too difficult to read. As always, the ending is a little abrupt and not too detailed, leaving it sort of up to y'all as well :) Sorry if there are any typos (I only ever get the time to write when it's quite late nowadays)

Yet another day at Hogwarts - waking up at 6:30 am, showering, getting dressed in your robes, and heading to breakfast. Wishing everyone you passed a good morning, wearing your signature smile as you did.

You were a 7th year, one of the few returning ones after last year's incident with Cedric Diggory. He'd been your best friend, or at least that's what people thought. Cedric Diggory and you had been dating for the last 7 months before his death. You didn't want anyone knowing because being star students meant eyes prying into every aspect of your relationship.

People praised you, a model student and now, prefect, who set an example. An example of how to be strong and cope no matter what life threw at you. Little did they know, you harboured a little secret. A dark, horrifying, and disturbing secret that would never let anyone look at you the same way if they ever found out.

Your first class for the day was Potions. You were a brilliant student, especially at Potions, yet Snape still had something against you. You didn't take it personally, though; he wasn't really fond of anyone. You walked into class, taking your regular seat at the front. Snape walked into class a little while later, slamming the door behind him, commanding everyone's attention.

"Turn to page 420," he drawled. You opened the book to find the recipe for Amortentia. Your heart felt a tug at the name of the love potion, never having been able to find out the answers with Cedric.

Snape's deep voice brought your focus back to class as he said, "Since it takes a week to brew, I've already completed most of the process. All you need to do is the last day's work," making the class sigh with relief. "However," he continued, "The last day of brewing is crucial and not easy. So, I expect your attention to be fully on the task at hand."

You began brewing the potion, following the steps perfectly. Snape sat down to grade papers as the class worked. He looked at you and said, "Ms. [L/N], roll up your sleeves while you work. I'd hate for there to be mishaps in my class because of one student's carelessness."

You hesitated, but then did as asked. You weren't the best at wandless magic but had made sure to perfect this spell solely for such instances. As you rolled your sleeves, you subtly waved your hand over your forearms, mumbling, "Illusiont," and casting the disillusionment charm.

You saw Snape narrow his eyes at you and panicked for a second before you saw him shake his head and return to grading. Breathing a sigh of relief, you returned to the task at hand and continued brewing.

After a while, you'd finished, and were the first one to have done so. Snape walked over to your desk and took a whiff of the potion, raising an eyebrow before giving you a single nod of approval, letting you know that it was perfect. Once everyone was done, he walked around, starting at the back, and asked everyone to announce what they smelled. You hadn't smelled your Amortentia yet and hadn't planned on doing so either, feeling quite relieved when Snape hadn't asked that question earlier.

Your heart rate quickened as you began to worry about how your body and mind would react to smelling it. You couldn't do it last year, since the Triwizard tournament had led to a bunch of classes being cancelled. As you thought about how excited you had been at the prospect of sharing the experience with Cedric, Snape's voice pulled you back to your potions class.

"Ms. [L/N]."

"Yes, sir?"

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "What. Do. You. Smell," he spoke, irritation evident in every word.

You swallowed hard as you leaned forward to inhale the scent. Your pupils dilated, your heartbeat quickened and your knees threatened to give out at the all-too-familiar fragrance. Your throat went dry as you stopped the tears from forming.

"Well? We haven't got all day, class is to be dismissed soon." He raised an eyebrow at you, asking you to hurry up since you were the last one.

With every ounce of energy, you calmed yourself and stopped your voice from wavering. "Old books, butterscotch and... vanilla," you sighed. Your breathing was erratic and you knew you needed to get out of class and get to the abandoned girls' washroom.

As if on cue, the bell rang, dismissing the class. Snape gave you an odd look and was about to ask you what was wrong but you had already gathered your belongings and were marching out the door. He decided to follow you since he'd never seen you act like that before and was wondering what had happened to you all of a sudden.

You made your way up the stairs, hurrying before you had a breakdown in the middle of the hallway. As you reached the washroom, you started rummaging through your bag since the hallway was empty. You took the small blade that you carried around out, pushing the door to the bathroom open.

Snape's POV

I followed her out of the classroom. Though not my favourite, [Y/N] was an incredible witch and this wasn't normal behaviour for her. She'd marched out before I had even dismissed class which concerned me even more, given her usually 'perfect' behaviour. She paced through the hallways and up the stairs so fast that I could've sworn she was moving around faster than I did on a normal basis. There was an urgency in her stride and I don't know why, but it concerned me.

She finally turned into the hallway leading to the girls' washroom on the third floor, which was odd. No one used this, as far as I was aware. I was a little embarrassed, considering I'd just followed a young girl to a washroom. In an isolated area, at that. I swear I never would've imagined myself going even further and following her in, but what I'd seen had shocked and concerned me enough to do just that.

End of Snape's POV

As you entered the bathroom, you had missed Snape, whose eyes were wide with shock. He couldn't believe what he'd seen. [Y/N] [L/N], the golden girl of Hogwarts, had just walked into an abandoned washroom after pulling out a blade from her bag. Not wanting to jump to any conclusions, he rushed in, wanting to confirm what his eyes had just seen.

As you were about to enter a stall, the door to the bathroom, swung open, making you jump. You hid the blade by making a fist, unintentionally cutting into your palm. You winced at the unexpected pain but didn't let it show.

You turned to face Professor Snape, and he was eyeing your hand. 'There's no way he saw it, is there?' you thought.

"Ms. [L/N], care to show me your hands?"

You panicked. He knew. You tried to divert his attention. "Sir, this is the girls' washroom."

"I'm aware," he stated. "Now... Hands," he said as he glared at you, letting you know that he wouldn't fall for any attempts to change the subject.

You sighed and opened your hands, and saw his gaze soften. He walked to you taking your hand in his as he gently pulled the razor out. You winced as it came out, knowing this would impair you for the rest of your classes.

"What were you thinking?!" He scolded, startling you. He reached for your arm, rolling up your sleeves once again and muttered, "Finite."

The scars on your arms started showing up and you couldn't do anything but look away, your eyes resting anywhere but his gaze.

"So that was the Disillusionment Charm I heard you use, earlier."

You stayed silent, still refusing to meet his eyes. Of all the professors, it had to be him. Sure, he wasn't fond of you, but you had immense respect for the man, and to let him see you in this light... it took every bit of you to not lose your composure.

"Look at me," he said.

You turned to face him. His usually cold eyes showed too much concern and the uncharacteristic response from the potions master was proving to be a lot to handle. Tears stung your eyes as he stared at you.

"Why?" He asked, his voice so genuine that you couldn't help but let your emotions spill, creating a mess that you couldn't be bothered to care about anymore.

"I can't do this anymore," you sniffled. "I don't want to. He was everything to me and it just hurts so much."

"Who?"

"Cedric."

"Ah, yes. I'm aware you and Mr. Diggory were best friends. I'm sorry, [Y/N]."

"No," you said, finally being able to talk to someone about it. "He was my boyfriend. And... I never got to tell him I loved him... because I wasn't sure. Today just made it worse when I smelled him in my Amortentia. It confirmed that I did and I never got to say it." You were sobbing now, not caring what you looked like, what a mess you probably were, or what Snape was thinking of you and your confession.

You felt him awkwardly wrap his arms around you as he pulled your head to his chest. Your cries got louder and your wails of agony echoed in the empty washroom as your hands clutched the fabric of his robes. The feeling of someone comforting you was overwhelming. You'd always had to keep up this image of a perfect student, reliable friend, someone who could never have such horrifying tendencies.

Even then, as you cried out loud, your instinct made you bury your face in his chest, muffling the 'ugly' sobs. Snape's heart broke as your thoughts flooded his mind. As you struggled to breathe, he turned your head slightly, making you audible again. He didn't hush you; just stroked your hair as your tears soaked his robes.

It took a while, but you finally calmed down, your sobs reducing to soft whimpers before they died out entirely. Your throat was sore, and lips, chapped from all the crying. Your eyes were red and puffy, and the reality of the situation finally came crashing down on you.

Your secret was out. More than one, at that. One of the professors knew, and the strictest one too. You had just spent Merlin knows how long crying into his chest, which was now soaked with your tears.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, your voice, hoarse. "Your robes are all wet now," you said, trying to move away.

"That's the least of my worries right now," he said, keeping your head in place as he continued, "I understand what you're going through. Better than you'd know." It sounded like it was painful for him to talk about it, the tone of his voice giving the vulnerability away. "But this is not the way to deal with it," he said as rubbed your back.

"Does it go away?"

"I'll be honest," he sighed. "It does get lesser with time if you allow yourself to heal. However, it never goes away entirely. A part of you will always love and miss him. I'm sorry," he said.

"No, I'm glad. I don't want to forget him. Or my love for him. Cedric Diggory was and will always be - my first love."

You finally pulled away from his chest and looked him in the eyes as he gave you a gentle smile. You managed to muster a somber one and sighed.

"Do any of your friends know?"

"Merlin, no!"

"Why not? They're your friends. They could-"

"I can't have this getting out. Everyone will-"

"Who cares what people think?" He raised his voice. It was silent for a while before he sighed and spoke again.

"[Y/N], I want you to promise me something."

You knew what was coming. You gulped and nodded softly.

"I want you to promise me that you'll stop this. Cedric wouldn't want this for you."

"I know, and I've tried before. It's not that simple-"

"I know," he said, cutting you off. "Which is why, the next time you get the urge to do this, you'll come to me. No matter what the situation might be."

You were surprised at his words. It was incredibly nice of him to offer this to you, and you nodded, accepting his generosity.

"Also," he continued, "Please stop going to such great lengths to please others and worrying about what others think. It's not healthy."

"But-"

"But nothing. Your health is suffering and you can't even bring yourself to tell anyone because you're so busy keeping up this little charade of 'everything is fine'."

You stayed silent. There was truth in his words and you couldn't refute his accusations. You just looked up at him, once again, finding the uncharacteristic concerned look meeting your gaze. Nodding softly, you agreed. How could you not when someone had shown you such consideration and compassion?

A small smile graced his usually stoic face as he helped you up, and you both made your way out of the bathroom. He escorted you back to your dormitories, ensuring you were alright before the two of you parted ways.

The rest of the school year passed and Snape stayed true to his word, and you to yours. Every time you felt the urge to hurt yourself to relieve the pain, you'd find Snape. He was patient and helped you every step of the way. Slowly, but surely, you were able to overcome your urges and also found yourself living for yourself, rather than up to others' expectations.

By the time you graduated, you had overcome the habit and thanked Snape in your graduation speech, never giving away the details as to why. A lot of people had assumed there was something between the two of you, especially since you went to meet him all through the school year, but you didn't let it bother you, because... Who cares what people think, right?

-

P.S. - Sorry I've been a little slow with the writing. My college assignments have started rolling in and I'm currently swamped. Also, I'm working on a little something (announcing it in 2-3 days so make sure to check in lol). Rest assured, I'm slowly and steadily making my way through requests. Thank you for understanding <3

[myhumanweakness]

I don’t want to be a huge asshole, but...

There are a lot of people trying to find a modicum of positivity in the finale. It’s not about this Destiel-Bibro war that’s happened over the years, it’s not about Cas, it’s not about any of the superficial drama. This finale was the weirdest mixture of OOC and in character writing I have ever seen. 

Things that are in character: 

The brothers put each other first. They are each other’s safe place and stability. Up until the very end. Sam respected Dean’s wishes, stayed with him in his last moments, and let him go gracefully. Sam even went on and had a full life so Dean’s sacrifices weren’t in vain. 

For Dean, Heaven wasn’t perfect without Sam there. And he had this huge sense of relief and happiness when Sam arrived. 

Jack deconstructed the walls of Heaven so that it was a vast place where everyone could be together. They weren’t living out their “best memories” anymore. They were creating new memories eternally with each other. And Bobby recognizing that Jack is like Dean’s son by saying, “That boy of yours...” 

Cas helped build the Heaven that he always dreamed of. Cas always had such a high standard for Heaven, and it always fell short. He helped Jack build a home that was warm and comforting and beautiful and open and loving and true. Everything Cas stood for. 

Bobby, the man Dean adopted as his father, was there to share a beer with him (just like Dean shared with his dad in his childhood). And Bobby was happy and confirmed that Dean is in a Heaven he deserves. 

Sam mourning Dean’s death for the rest of his life, but also living his life to honor Dean. Classic Sam. 

Dean using his last moments to tell Sam how much he loves him and how proud he is. Sam deserved to hear that because we all know Sam looked at Dean as a parental figure. 

Things that are OOC:

Sam not marrying Eileen. The show created this HUGE story arc around Sam and Eileen and their real love and connection. And then they shoot this finale and couldn’t even get an actress that looked like Eileen to stand it the blurry background. Like, I don’t care what you say, it’s NOT open to interpretation. Sam did not end up with Eileen. All of you people who are Sam stans, who say you want your character to be happy and live a full life should be livid. Sam ending up with Eileen wouldn’t have canceled out the fact that Dean was/is his number one person. Dean gave his blessing for Eileen, and he loved her and welcomed her into their lives because he knew Sam loved her and had a genuine connection with her. Having them together would not have ruined the ending in any way. Sam still could have ended up with Dean on that bridge. 

That woman with the blonde/light brown hair is NOT Eileen. They couldn’t even get an actress with dark brown hair to keep hope alive that they ended up together. Absolutely awful. 

Dean just accepting Cas’ death and not even talking about it, other than to say, “Yeah I think about em’ too.” I don’t care if you don’t believe in Destiel or that the love was reciprocated. Dean EXCLUSIVELY said multiple times that Cas is a member of their family and a brother to the boys. He said the words, “YOU”RE MY BEST FRIEND.” I’m not saying Dean should have scarified himself to go pull Cas out of the Empty (because we had 40 minutes to wrap up 15 years). But the fact that Dean was like: I’m gonna eat some pie and just not acknowledge any feelings or thoughts and act like nothing ever happened is SO OOC. If your best friend died tragically, you’d have something to say about it or act like you had something to say about it. And that’s not to say I wanted Dean to be miserable and hurting. I’m happy he got a dog and found some normalcy. But they lost SO many people, and he’s just walking around cool as a cucumber? When every other season/episode where they lost someone important to Dean he was a mess. And I’m not just talking about Cas- we all obviously know how Dean behaved when Cas died/was missing/Lucifer was controlling him. But even when Jo and Ellen died. Even when Mary died. Even when Bobby died. Even when John died. Even when Crowley died. Even when Jack died, Dean was shown hurting. Suddenly everything is cool and normal there’s no pain or anything? The fuck? A brief moment of acknowledgement. That’s all it needed.

I will never forgive the writers for ending Dean’s story that way. A rusty nail impaling him (probably in his pulmonary arteries/aorta based on the angle) on some random hunt after he finally exhaled the episode before and said, “We’re finally free.” He sacrificed his ENTIRE childhood and life for his brother and the world and so many other people, and he didn't even get to enjoy being a human on the Earth and living a life for more than a week. What! Dean was always a character filled with tragedy, and yeah, maybe he did have to die. You can make that argument. But like that?! AND. AND! Sam held a funeral for Dean and DIDN’T INVITE ANYONE! What!!! No one was there to toast to Dean and share their memories and give him the send-off he deserved. Sam just burned his body alone. Never. That would have NEVER happened. Sam loved Dean SO much and looked up to him and thought the world of him. Dean was his big brother who was fearless and strong and the best hunter on this Earth (and probably every other planet), and he didn’t celebrate his life in the end? 

Cas not showing up in Heaven is absolutely insane. INSANE. It doesn’t matter what you think of their relationship, the show has proven that Cas is important to Dean (even if you think Cas is way at the bottom of the list, he’s on it!). Dean’s ideal retirement/endgame was him, Sam, and Cas on a beach, drinking cocktails, with hula girls. That was the future Dean wanted for him and his family. And you’re telling me that Cas helped Jack build the best version of Heaven possible, and the minute Dean Winchester arrived Cas wasn’t there to greet him. Even just to say “Hello, Dean.” Even call Dean’s phone and say, “Welcome home.” Cas would have been the one greeting Dean in Heaven, with Bobby. Requited or not, it’s canon that Cas is in love with Dean. You don’t just ignore the opportunity to see the person you’re in love with. And... and! Even if Cas didn’t greet Dean in Heaven immediately, he would have appeared in the Impala during the drive. He would have met the brothers on the bridge to welcome them both home. Cas loved Sam too. He would have been there. The three boys together again. Team Free Will!  

I love Cas, and I know a lot of Cas stans feel buried and betrayed and hurt over the show doing a “is he there or isn’t he?” thing. And that is completely valid. I can’t even express to you how sorry I am that so many of us in the fandom are hurting. But I know this show. And this show has always made it clear that it was/is always about two brothers. Fine. But Dean Winchester, the most caring and loving human in the entire universe, deserved better. I am so sick to my stomach that Dean’s whole life was him convinced that there was only one way for his story to end and it was him dying tragically. For years he never let himself even entertain the thought of living a life because he 1) didn’t think he deserved that or was worth it 2) it just wasn’t in the cards. We watched Dean grow so much, SO MUCH, that we finally saw him talking about the future and having hope for the future. And yeah, maybe he wouldn’t get the future he talked about with the retirement on the beach, but he would have lived long enough to experience life outside of just “playing whack-a-mole” and being God’s favorite story and puppet. Dean didn’t even get to enjoy his freedom and humanity. They took a character that they purposefully pushed through so many stages of character development to attain hope and faith and self-worth and promise, and killed him. 

What the fuck!

[leonardhoee]

I’m so excited that you’re taking requests! May I ask for some Mitsuhide headcanons? Any are fine (although I do love an in-love!Mitsu 👀)! Thank you so much dear!! 💘💞

Omg I was so happy when I got this request cuz Mitsuhide is the LOML. (Also perfect timing cuz I just finished re-reading his route). I’m not sure what kind of headcannons you wanted but I’m just kind of rambling based on the reasons I love him.😂 (+ NSFW)

(Also I wrote these at 3am if there’s any spelling errors pls don’t kill me😭)

Hope you like it!❤️❤️

Tagging: @aurora-morning @writer-akihiko @ikemenvmpire @judgemental-seal @delicateikemenmemes

Mitsuhide is...so incredibly soft. Sometimes when you’re sleeping next to him, he just takes in your beauty and listens to your heartbeat. Knowing you are alive and in his arms, warms his heart more than you could ever know.

He cannot believe that someone who radiates so much love and light would fall for someone like him, but he is eternally grateful that he is blessed enough to have the chance to love you with his entire being.

As much as he teases you, this man LIVES to pamper and please you. Muscle pain after sparring with Kyubei? (Or other activities with Mitsu). Mitsuhide will use his extensive knowledge of the human body to give you the most mindblowing massage you’ve ever had. (And he will equally enjoy hearing your satisfied noises at his touches.)

He is extremely perceptive, especially when it comes to you. If you are upset, or anxious, or in pain, he will know right away without needing to be told and will act accordingly. He will insist on going back to your home and giving you some time away from work so you have a chance to relax with him.

He may be a secretive person but everyone on the Oda Forces knows just how much “Mitsuhide Akechi adores his wife”. He can’t help it, it just slips out. Whether it’s through his words or his actions, everyone in Azuchi knows he only has eyes for you.

Mitsuhide has the utmost respect for you (he chugs his respect women juice daily) and will consider your opinions on his work a great help. There may be some parts of his job that he isn’t allowed to with you. However, 90% of the time he will tell you everything he’s been doing and will ask for your advice.

Sometimes he feels like you know him even better than he knows himself. And he knows that even if the whole world considers him a murderer and amonster, you will always be there to hold him and remind him that you love him and that he is a hero in your eyes.

Even for him, it’s sometimes too much to handle, and on those days he will come and lay down with you, resting his head on your chest as you stroke his hair and allow him to finally rest. He won’t admit it publicly but, being in your arms feels like the safest place in the world for him. He never thought that he would experience the luxury of having such a place to return to after his battles. A true home.

If you like to cook, you better believe Mitsuhide will eat everything you make, regardless of whether he can taste it or not. (He says he doesn’t need to taste the flavor because he can taste the love you put into it.)

He is known for neglecting his basic needs, and while he has gotten better at it ever since you came into his life, his level of self care is still unacceptable.

However, if you come in and insist he take a break because he’s overworking himself, his heart will absolutely just melt at seeing how much you care about him. (Is it the bare minimum? Yes. Has anyone ever taken care of him like that? No.) He is so starved of love and affection that even the most minor things will melt his heart.

Mitsuhide also loves to tease you, just to see your reactions. It’s incredibly entertaining when he whispers a dirty joke to you and smack his arm because “We are in public Mitsuhide.” It amuses him to no end.

He also loves teasing the others with you, and you two make the best pranking team in Azuchi.

You two have increased Hideyoshi’s migraine levels, but he lets it slide after seeing Mitsuhide look so happy for the first time in his life.

Hideyoshi has never seen Mitsuhide smile like that at anyone before, and he’s just glad Mitsu finally has someone to love and depend on. (Though sometimes he wishes that person was him. We’re not gonna unpack all that right now)

Random Headcannon: Modern AU Mitsuhide would be an amazing dancer. Like Michael Jackson type shit.

NSFW Below the Cut

Mitsuhide lives to please you and that translates to the bedroom as well. He is a switch through and through, but he could eat you out for hours. (Lying isn’t the only thing he’s good at using his tongue for).

His favorite place to be is between your thighs with your hand tugging at his hair, bringing his face even closer to your dripping core. You are his priority and he will not partake in his own pleasure until he has seen you come twice at least.

He loves to hear you beg, and will torture you for hours with phantom touches that allow you a small taste of the pleasure he can give. He will leave you desperately wanting more until you are crying his name and begging him to finally take you because you can’t handle any more of his teasing.

It’s truly a game to see how long he can keep his own composure before letting go and loosing himself in mindblowing pleasure. Oh and when he does...when he finally lets himself take you the way he’s been wanting to...you won’t be walking straight the next day.

The expression on your face, and the way you cry out his name with tears of pleasure running down your cheeks when he finally pounds you into the futon send him into ecstasy like he had never known before. He will keep going until your legs are shaking and your voice is hoarse from screaming his name so many times throughout the night.

He has a hidden chest of various toys and ropes, and secretly one of his greatest fantasies is to be tied up, completely at your mercy as you “punish” him for his teasing behavior. Nothing brings him more pleasure than feeling the rope dig into his skin, being unable to move as you teasingly suck him off, stopping right as he gets to the edge. He also loves seeing you ride him, using him as a device for your own pleasure.

Mitsuhide is normally not very loud, however, if you edge him enough, it will break all self control he has as he desperately moans your name and bucks his hips, just to try and finally feel himself buried deep inside you.

Once you free him of his bonds he will immediately flip you over, licking down your chest and throwing your legs over his shoulders as he drills you into whatever surface he decided to rail you on that day.

If you’re not too tired, he will even bathe you himself as he kisses every part of your body telling you how amazingly beautiful you are in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

Afterwards, he pulls you close to his chest and kisses your forehead, as he tells you how much he loves you and how euphoric you make him feel. Nights like these are one of the few times Mitsuhide will fall asleep right away as the languid exhaustion overtakes him.

[potteresque-ire]

This post is Part 4 of the five-part meta series on the Zhang Zhehan (張哲瀚) Incident, based on what has transpired up to 2021/08/22.

1) The 2nd Sino-Japanese War (1937-45) & the Yasukuni Shrine 2) Post-War Sino-Japanese Relations; “Every Chinese should visit the Yasukuni Shrine” 3) The Summer of 2021: The Brewing Storms for One 4) My Thoughts on Zhang’s Incident, Part A 5) My Thoughts on Zhang’s Incident, Part B

4) My Thoughts on Zhang’s Incident, Part A

Now, I’m finally going to dive into Zhang Zhehan’s incident. They’re, of course, my personal opinions, based on what’s known until 2021/08/22, and I’m talking about them not as a turtle, not as a Gg or Dd fan, not as a fan at all—but as … me. A Hong Konger, half-way American, and representative of neither.

I should start with a confession.

While, in the parts before, I wrote as if there were signs enough that I could see this coming, that I could see Zhang being handed the severe punishment that he had… I actually didn’t. I thought it would stop at People’s Daily critique of Zhang’s apology letter posted on August 13th, and Zhang would lose his endorsements, be forced to lay low for a while. I didn’t expect the all-out invisibility campaign the would happen, including the removal of his already-aired, groups projects such as Word of Honour (WoH 山河令).

Do I feel Zhang made a mistake? Absolutely. I agree with his self-assessment in his apology letter that he had been ignorant and careless. I’d add this as well: he had likely suffered from a certain degree of arrogance. When previously asked by his fans to remove from his Weibo a photo he took of a car painted in a manner reminiscent of WWII Japanese War Planes (and with a Rising Sun flag), that should’ve been a reminder, a warning enough for him to refrain from posting similar materials online. Being politically insensitive as a public figure in China is dangerous, and often costly. And one has to be really, really, insensitive politically, and very, very out of the news cycle, to be unaware of the tension in Sino-Japanese relations in the past decade, with the Yasukuni Shrine being at the epicentre of that tension.

A photo posted on Weibo by Zhang, later deleted at fans’ request and re-surfaced online during this incident (Left). The Nakajima Ki-84 fighter jet, used by the Imperial Japanese Army 1943-45 (Right). (Source)

But ignorance, carelessness and even arrogance are not crimes. These are corrigible traits; late 20’s may be not-so-young for an idol, but Zhang was young when he visited the shrine and took the photos in 2018. He’s still young now, having just reached 30, with lots of years to grow. 

From a practical standpoint, I also fail to see Zhang’s behaviour as causing more actual harm to anyone than as the Global Times Network (GTN) piece.

Zhang’s photos had never been widely circulated before the incident. The location at which they had been taken was also not obvious to those who haven’t investigated, or haven’t visited the Yasukuni Shrine. In contrast, the large quantity of photos in the GTN piece, their portrayal of the shrine’s right wing visitors, can arguably be said to be more visually offensive, if visual offensiveness is sufficient to be hurtful, if The Reporter of the GTN piece had, indeed, had his heart sunk just by the sight of the sakuras on the shrine grounds planted by the descendants and friends of those enshrined (reminder: overwhelmingly not war criminals), as he had described in the article. 

To put it in Chinese state media lingo, the GTN piece could arguably be said to have done more to 冒犯國人情感 (“offend the feelings of the country’s people”) (from People’s Daily critique piece against Zhang) and 輕佻地傷害中國人民的情感 (“flippantly hurt the feelings of the Chinese people) (from 中纪委 Central Commission for Discipline Inspection’s critique piece) than Zhang’s photos.

A thing to mention, perhaps: the phrase “hurting the feelings of Chinese people” (and its close cousins) has somewhat of a ... celebrity status among Chinese politics watchers, with ample articles and statistics dedicated to it for the sheer number of times it has appeared in China’s foreign policy materials, as well as the multi-purposeness of its application. Another example of “hurting the feelings of Chinese people”: an English Mercedes-Benz ad, posted on Instagram (a blocked site in China), featuring a quote by Dalai Lama. The phrase has become a bit of a joke in anti-CCP communities, not because the feelings of Chinese people aren’t legitimate or important, but because a regime that doesn’t allow voting, that suppresses the freedoms of speech and press, is hardly an expert on the feelings of its people.

An entertaining infographic about China’s “hurt national feelings” (high-res version). Japan has consistently ranked 1st in the number of times it has hurt China’s national feelings (upper right corner).  

And, speaking of “flippant”, I find flippant perfectly described the tone of the GTN piece, which I, as a reader of Chinese descent, was perhaps even more embarrassed by than the fact that The Reporter visited the shrine. The Reporter admitted he already had a “fight-picking heart”, had chosen to act confrontationally; the article he’d write later reflected that, was filled to the brim with bravado. However, as I mentioned before, he never did what would’ve mattered if he had elected to fight, made the cause of his troublemaking clear—he had said nothing about the war criminals, or the revisionist material in the museum. Statements of protests needn’t be physical or violent; they simply had to be communicated, and to the right audience—which doesn’t include his translator, or the staff at the Yasukuni Shrine. 

The American tourist could’ve been a potential target; wouldn’t it be interesting to find out what they knew about this piece of history, how much they knew about the controversies surrounding the shrine? But The Reporter only told them Americans were not welcomed—a statement automatically doubtful by the presence of … an American next to him. If The Reporter’s account were true, then, to the staff, the tourist who interacted with him, The Reporter behaved just like … a passive-aggressive, very rude Chinese tourist. He had scored zero victory for his cause—if he did have a cause—during his visit.

If the defence was his fight-picking heart, no one asked Zhang if he had harboured a fight-picking heart when he had visited, taken the pictures.

That’s double-standard. That’s hypocrisy.

Personally, I would’ve left out the Yasukuni Shrine from my Tokyo itinerary — as much because of the two thousand war criminals there, and the 2 million+ not-war-criminals there who deserve respect and peace. If I’m not a descendant of those enshrined there; if I’m not worshipping; if I lack deference for the shrine and the Shinto religion it represents, then, I have no business to be at the Yasukuni Shrine. 

There are beautiful sakuras all over Tokyo.

Sakuras along Tokyo’s Meguro River (Source)

Okay. Back to Zhang. I personally believe he made mistakes. Do I feel, then, that Zhang’s punishment was appropriate, or was it too much?

As someone whose family was mostly spared from the pain and suffering caused by the acts of the Imperial Japanese Army during the 1930s and 40s, I don’t think the answers to these questions are up to me to decide. It’s inappropriate for me to decide.

But I’ll follow my answer with this question: whoever are deciding now, are they the people who should be deciding, whose lives have been truly impacted by the war? Those screaming on social media that Zhang is a traitor, a 漢奸 hanjian—a term originated from the KMT and Sino-Japanese War era to refer to persons who have illicit relationships with the enemy of, specifically, the Han Chinese ethnicity—those wanting to destroy not just Zhang’s career, but Zhang himself … do they really believe visiting, taking photos at the Yasukuni Shrine are acts enough to warrant those accusations, bearing in mind that treason is, perhaps, the most unforgivable crime in China?

Is Chairman Mao, a Han Chinese, a hanjian when he thanked the Japanese prime minister? Why not? What he said could’ve been out of pragmatism, but did he hurt the feelings of the Chinese whose family had died from Japanese military brutality during the war, of the comfort women who, at the time of the meeting, were still living in significant numbers? Why, when a post quoting Mao’s words in defence of Zhang surfaced several days ago, the vast majority of online reactions was “here goes another brain-disabled fan”, until one netizen whispered it had actually been spoken by a Great Figure, without naming, without daring to name the actual speaker of the quote?

Why have those quotes been buried in the graves of the Chinese internet?

And the netizens who went on to “dig up”, spread unsubstantiated rumours about Zhang’s being 精日 (short for 精神上的日本人 “Spiritually Japanese”), being a secret right-wing Japanese, even—were they patriots or were they cyberbullys? Were they out to defend their country, or were they out there torturing someone they didn’t like for their own enjoyment? For their own potential gains?

They called Zhang a 行走的五十萬 “Walking 500,000” — the number referring to the sum of money (500,000 RMB, ~ 77,000 USD) the Chinese government rewards someone who reports, offers tip-offs on a foreign spy. If Zhang’s family happens to be Japanese too, they said, the reward could be 500,000 * n !!

An Anti-Spy Law (反間諜法) advertisement. 12339 is the phone number and website for reporting / making tip-offs on foreign spies. (Source)

One would say, of course, that these netizens were only joking.

But are jokes jokes if they can ruin someone for good? Same goes with every one who attempted to connect whoever, whatever they didn’t like with Zhang, @ ing the state agencies on the Weibo posts to call the latter’s attention to connections, wishing for the government and the platforms to remove these whoevers, whatevers along with Zhang. 

These whoevers, whatevers have included: Zhang’s former work associates; CP supertopics; Danmei and Dangai; Dangai dramas before WoH; actors involved in Dangai dramas before WoH; supertopics of these actors; the fans of these actors; fandom in general …

(To the Anon who asked: this is how the rumour that all CP supertopics may be removed came about. So far, there are no evidences that the invisibility campaign related to Zhang is heading in that direction.)

These “soft reporting” attempts—soft, in the sense that they were reporting to the state agencies, but not using the state’s formal system—conjures a scene like this in my mind: a class of small children, all with little to no power on their own, pointing their stubby fingers to whoever they don’t like in front of who they perceive as absolute authority. “But (S)HE did this!! “ screams a child who tries to borrow the teacher’s “knife” to take down their enemies, not understanding what it’ll mean to themselves if the teacher does yield to their demand, does punish their “enemies” based on their words alone: that the child can themselves will be punished when another child points their stubby fingers at them.

Perhaps, here’s the resemblance of the scene: when absolute authority exists, critical thinking tends to go wayside, even if the capability to critically think exists—because what’s the point of thinking? The opinion of the authority is the only thing that matters in the end. Mob mentality and actions take over: mobs of not only netizens, but mobs of companies, mobs of platforms.  

And so, when it rained for Zhang, it poured.

===

The Zhang Zhehan Incident Meta Series:

PART 1  PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 <- YOU ARE HERE PART 5

[drarrymybeloved]

Supersonic

“Good afternoon, good afternoon,” Harry greets his waiting students as he quickly makes his way to the front of the Room of Requirement where the Duelling Club meets once a week. Draco’s already there. He smiles in greeting when Harry catches his eye, sending a pleasant ripple through Harry.

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting,” Harry apologises, an automatic smile curving his lips. 

“It’s alright, we haven’t been waiting long. I haven’t spoiled the surprise, don’t worry.” Draco winks at him, sending Harry’s imagination to inappropriate places. 

Shaking himself, Harry nods in gratitude and turns towards the students, waiting for them to fall silent.

“Hi everyone, sorry I’m late. But I hope what we're working on today will make up for my tardiness,” he begins. “You’ve all been practicing your defensive spells for long enough now – I think you’re ready to start practicing actual duelling.” 

A shiver of excitement passes through the room as students turn to their friends and start whispering to one another. 

“Now, before I pair you off, I want you all to witness proper duelling etiquette and technique. Spellwork is just one part of what makes a good dueller. Professor Malfoy,” Harry indicates to his right as Draco takes a step forward, “will be helping me out with that.”

Harry glances towards Draco at the same time that Draco looks at him. Their eyes meet, sparking something heated in Harry’s gut. Tearing his eyes away, he busies himself with erecting a small magical barrier between the duelling mat and the students. It’s not really necessary, but as far as his students’ safety is concerned, Harry would like to err on the side of caution.

Once finished, Harry takes his stance in front of Draco. 

“Scared, Potter?” Draco murmurs, grey eyes shining with amusement. The effect is instantaneous – adrenaline surges through Harry. He grins. “You wish, Malfoy.”

And then they’re stalking off to their respective ends of the mat, whirling back around to face each other. Draco smirks at him as they bow. Refusing to get distracted, Harry wastes no time in sending a Jelly-Legs jinx Draco’s way, which he dodges neatly while shooting off a Tarantallegra that catches Harry’s left leg.

Wobbling slightly as his leg valiantly attempts to dance the salsa, Harry aims a Tickling charm at Draco that hits him square in the chest, making him double over with laughter. 

“Expelliarmus,” Harry shouts triumphantly, knocking Draco’s wand out of his hand. Applause bursts out from where the students are standing.

Draco straightens, hands on his hips and gasping slightly. As Harry walks up to him to return his wand, he smiles crookedly. “Not bad, Professor Potter.”

Smiling back at him, Harry hands Draco’s wand back. “Not bad yourself, Professor Malfoy,” he murmurs. He holds Draco’s gaze for a touch longer than necessary before he remembers he’s supposed to be teaching children how to duel.

Snapping out of it, he turns to address the awed faces around him. “Right, so, that is what a duel looks like. I hope you noted our movements – the way Professor Malfoy dodged my first spell for instance,” he instructs. “Please make your way to the duelling mats with your partners, and let's get started.”

For the next hour, Harry circles the room, correcting stances and incantations. He’s constantly aware of Draco’s presence, but he’s determined to stay on task, so he keeps his eyes and attention firmly on his students. Tries to, at least.

It’s the most distracted Harry has been while teaching, but no major mishaps happen and by the end of the hour, the students are tumbling out of the Room of Requirement, tired but still full of exuberance at having gotten a taste of hands-on defensive magic.

Satisfied, Harry starts rolling up the mats and putting away the training dummies. Draco joins him, and they work together in companionable silence – even if it is stretched taut with a tension Harry has gotten used to over months of working together.

As they put away the last of the mats, Draco turns to face Harry. “I was wondering,” he starts, maintaining eye contact but distractedly fiddling with his sleeves (which have been rolled up to his elbows at some point, revealing pale, corded forearms that Harry definitely has not been sneaking glances at), “if you would like to go on a date with me?”

Shocked surprise leaves Harry gaping at Draco in silence. He tries to find words, any words, but all his mind has to offer is an astoundingly articulate “uhhhhhh.”

“It’s just, I have asked you before, or at least I thought I had, what with the invitations to drinks and dinner, but I don’t think I was clear enough,” Draco barrels on in an attempt to fill the silence. “So, I’m uh, being clear now. I hope.” He coughs, cheeks steadily pinking.

“You’re gay?” Harry blurts out without thinking, and of course, that has to be what comes out first. 

Draco’s eyebrows rise to meet his hairline. “Yes, Harry, I am indeed gay. Something that literally every student and professor at Hogwarts knows,” he says slowly, before looking around in bemusement. “What on Earth–” 

And that’s when Harry realises the Room of Requirement is echoing with It's Raining Men.

Oh, no. Cheeks burning, Harry quickly reins in his rogue magic. “The Room can be weird at times,” he fibs, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding all eye contact.

“Right...” Draco drags out skeptically. Visibly moving past it, he asks, “So, dinner?”

Excitement frizzes through Harry’s veins, crackling in his stomach. “Dinner sounds good,” he agrees, trying to temper his grin. 

Draco smiles, his shoulders relaxing, eyes warm and pleased. Harry thinks he could get lost in those mercurial depths. 

But then confusion, followed by realisation, and finally, amusement steals into Draco’s gaze. His shoulders start to shake with mirth. Baffled, Harry pulls himself out of his thoughts to ask what’s so funny, when his ears are assaulted with Celine Dion singing her lungs out.

“The Room acting out again?” Draco asks, all faux innocence, barely able to contain his laughter.

Horrified, Harry buries his face – now beetroot red – into his hands and fervently wishes for the sweet release of death.

He hears Draco chuckle and then feels gentle fingers prying his hands away from his face. Cringing, he meets Draco’s bright gaze. “So, my magic reacts oddly sometimes,” he offers weakly. 

“I noticed,” Draco informs him, and closes the inches between them to press his lips to Harry’s. 

Harry freezes in surprise for a second before he’s moving, tilting his head and interlacing their fingers. He can feel Draco smiling into the kiss and he’s alight with it.

In the background, Freddy Mercury croons, I’m trav’ling at the speed of light.

for @vukovich who, among other things, said they like magical hijinks and oblivious harry. also for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: parallel. i tried to inject some of Vuk’s energy into this re: weirdness, but i’m not sure how successful i was 😂 i hope you like it Vuk!

thank you to @curlyy-hair-dont-care for the beta!

read on ao3

[queen-of-the-queers]

A VERY short Jabitha Drabble✨

Ok, so here's a very short Drabble.

I spent the past 12 hours cramming for exams and wrote this in the middle of the night, so sorry if this isn't really up to scratch.

If you want anything written (hopefully to a higher standard than this, in the future), send me an ask!

Anyway the prompt this was for is "A short thing where Jabitha met before Riverdale S5, probably an AU."

I hope this was what you wanted, anon.

The first time Jughead and Tabitha met, they were eleven years old. He was sitting in his regular booth at Pop’s re-reading his favourite Baxter Brother’s novel, when Pop had appeared beside him with a young girl in tow.

“Jughead, this is my granddaughter, Tabitha. She’ll be around town for the next few days, so I thought it would be nice if she had somebody to talk to.”

And talk they did. They spent hours discussing everything their young minds could think of; his dream to become a writer and hers to be a CEO, which teachers from their respective schools they hated, and who they had crushes on. He cried after she left, burying his face in his beanie and insisting to Pop that he was merely tired.

The second time was more fleeting, over a simple shove in a New York club. Jughead turned around to toss the culprit a snarky remark, only to stand there, stunned. He recognised her immediately, for she had the same gentle eyes he had loved so much as a child. As much as he begged himself to say something, to make up for all he hadn’t said, he couldn’t will the words to come out.

And then, they both found themselves back in Riverdale. Jughead noticed her immediately, matching her face to the one he hadn’t been able to get out of his head for years. He wished he could go over, embrace her like an old friend and joke about how her dream to be a CEO had finally come true. But he knew that they were past that point. And seeing her up close, ignited a glimmer of understanding between them. A clean slate.

“It’s Tabitha, right, Tabitha Tate.”

[hypnomicimagines]

Fateful Meeting [Ninja!Harai Kuko/Reader]

The young ninja’s eyes were sharp, intense, so much so it felt like you were looking into the sun.

You looked down and away from his glare as you continued to tend to his wounds, ignoring the way he shifted uncomfortably, like he didn’t want you touching him at all. But he was the one who had stumbled upon your home a complete bloody mess, barely conscious as he looked up at you with pleading eyes, a moment of weakness when he thought he was on death’s door. Now that you had given him water and stopped his wound from bleeding his normal temperament had come back, and something told you he wasn’t the most pleasant dinner guest to have.

You had just finished bandaging him up when he abruptly stood, grabbing your wrist to stop you from reaching out to touch him again. You shared a look, wondering if he was the type of ninja to have taken a vow of silence before he opened his mouth for the first time.

“What do you want?” His tone is harsh but you think it’s likely just the way he sounds, if his looks are anything to go by. “You wasted your healing supplies on me, so what is it you want in return?”

“I don’t expect you to repay my kindness. Kindness isn’t kindness if it’s done expecting gratitude. Although I do suggest you spend some more time here recovering before you go anywhere…” Kuko’s eyes widened ever so slightly at your words but he doesn’t allow you to fully see his surprise, his neutral expression returning just as quickly as it had left. He adjusted the mask on his face as he stepped towards the door, ignoring your pleas for him to sit and rest a while longer.

“I always repay my debts.”

“Wait! Can’t you tell me your name at least? Or is that part of the whole secretive ninja clan thing you clearly have going on?” He hesitated for a second at your request, so simple to you yet to him… it was a show of trust. To willingly give your name to a stranger could mean terrible things for someone whose job was to blend in with the night; it would be better if you could forget he was ever even there which is why he becomes even more surprised when he spoke.

“Harai Kuko. Don’t forget it!” There’s a little more emotion in his introduction, a little less cold and far more personality shining through (which reaffirmed your assumption he was not the type of guest to bring home to your parents). But you found yourself charmed by him all the same, gentle smile on your face as you waved goodbye, his name just a whisper on the wind with how quickly he was gone.

You’re in awe at how such a bright shock of red hair managed to fade perfectly into the darkness but he’s gone from your view within seconds, leaving you reeling at the experience, wondering if it had only been a dream. The bloodied bed where he laid as you tended to him told otherwise but you tried not to think too deeply on it, grabbing the sheets to toss into your laundry pile to clean later. You cleaned up the scraps of your bandages and tidied your home like no one had been there, knowing that you had to sleep soon as you couldn’t burn the candle at both ends. You had to be up early for your patients the next morning as well since the work never seemed to end in the midst of the war.

As you’re finishing up there’s several aggressive knocks at your door, your body suddenly tensed as something feels off. Ever since your late-night visitor had left you felt an odd sensation in your chest, this anxiety unwavering in the heavy night air as you wondered how things could possibly get more interesting. When you’re greeted with the sight of two heavy-set men your anxiety finds itself skyrocketing, finding yourself backed into the corner of your own home as they make themselves comfortable.

“Excuse us for intruding. We just happened to see a trail of blood leading here… Are you alright?” His tone indicated he was not at all concerned about your well-being so you didn’t reply, instead trying to fix him with a steady stare that said ‘I’ve done nothing wrong’. “Ah, I see, the quiet type. I don’t mind that however… we’re tracking down a certain menace. A man with bright red hair who we heavily injured earlier today.”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Are you not the resident healer?”

“I am… but that blood trail could have just as easily been from an injured boar who was fighting for territory in the woods. Assuming it was human is a leap.”

“Might I ask why you’re still awake?”

“Some nights my mind keeps me awake with all sorts of thoughts, like whether or not I have to go into town to get more herbs and the like. You’re awfully inquisitive, are you perhaps looking to become a healer rather than being a person who supplies me patients?”

Your temper started to flare up despite you trying to carefully navigate the conversation, wanting these people who clearly came here to threaten you out of your home. You’d dealt with their type before, absolute savages, and you don’t appreciate their intrusion. You’re fonder of the random man who was bleeding out on your doorstep than these people who hurt just because they could, who bullied because they knew people were too afraid to stand up to them. Your irritation doesn’t go unnoticed but is returned with a heavy silence and glares, the two men who had forced their way in their home looming over you menacingly.

Perhaps you should’ve just gone straight to bed.

Kuko hadn’t made it far.

As headstrong as he was even he couldn’t deny the pain his body was in, his wounds aching as they hadn’t closed properly. He was normally far more respectful of the healers back at the temple but he was in a hurry, needing to report back to his father his findings immediately. He didn’t want to bring those hunting him to you either, it would be bad news as they seemed to have no issue slaughtering innocents left and right. He felt like there was a boulder in his gut that was slowing his movements, his body not able to move as nimbly until he’s finally forced to stop. He doesn’t know how far he’s gotten nor how much time has passed but he’s bleeding again.

It’s either turn back towards your hut or continue forward in hopes of finding another healer.

Something else is pulling him back towards you, like you’d attached strings to his body and were pulling at him to come back behind the curtain. Kuko bit his tongue hard to keep himself conscious, leaning against a tree, taking a deep breath, and then starting the journey back to your home. He’d have to prepare a proper apology for impeding on you so late at night but the sudden sense of urgency that rushed through his body stopped his needless worrying, walking forward with a huff.

He didn’t know why but he had to get back to you.

Now.

Your head is pounding as you lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, hands raising to cover your head to prevent further damage to your skull. You’d be in more pain if you were fully conscious but you’re only partially aware of what’s happening to you, your house in shambles around you. The place had been torn apart, the bloody bandages from earlier thrown across the room as they had been found during a ‘mandatory search’. The table you had been sitting at was flipped over and jars of needed herbs were tossed on the floor, even worse, now your own blood was staining the floor.

You’re fighting to stay awake, eyes scanning the floor for anything to defend yourself with but it was a fruitless endeavor. Your hands were meant to heal not harm, you weren’t suited for anything like this, and your assailants were clearly far more skilled than the average soldier. You wished you could say you put up a better fight than the pathetic mess that actually happened but there wasn’t time for self-pity.

“Hey you bastards! Didn’t hurt your pride enough after round one?”

Ninja’s are supposed to be quiet, stealthy, but Kuko had burst onto the scene like some sort of hero in a play. You’re wide-eyed as you spot the shock of red hair but your vision is so blurry and your brain so scrambled you’re worried you’re just hallucinating him. Your eyes met his for a second, your pleading reaching Kuko’s heart immediately; if he hadn’t been so carefully trained his entire life, he thinks his anger might’ve exploded in that moment, causing him to do something he’d regret. To see someone who had treated him with kindness, without asking any extra questions about who he was, someone who was likely innocent and had no means of defending themselves…

It pissed him off.

You hear the sound of skin on skin, some cackling that you’re sure is your ninja savior despite how high-pitched and wicked it sounded, and what you hope isn’t your house getting torn into even more pieces. Your face was buried in your arms as you were growing more exhausted, knowing the moon must be high in the sky at this point. You should’ve been in bed hours ago. Who would help your patients tomorrow when you could hardly help yourself? You weakly managed to bring your head up to survey the room around you but it’s suddenly silent, not a soul in sight until Kuko re-enters your home from the front door.

“Should I ask where you took them or just rely on blind faith?”

“You don’t have to blindly trust me but those assholes got what they deserved,” Kuko scoffed as he walked over to you, lifting you effortlessly so he could bring you over to your little bed (which had stayed clear of any debris). “Shit, I’m tired.”

Your eyes widened as Kuko lowered the mask so he could breathe a little easier, his face so smooth except for a scar on the underside of his chin. You can see a few more scars peeking out from the tears in his clothes but you don’t allow your mind to wander. Kuko is currently questioning why he just revealed his face in front of a civilian without thinking twice about the consequences, knowing this was yet another rule he had broken. There was a strict code all ninja were expected to follow and he’d already broken at least two rules, even more because he actually found himself liking you. He would be lucky if he got out of this unscathed by his father, not that he gave a damn what that shitty old man had to say to him, but he’d rather make his life easier.

“You’re bleeding… your wound from before reopened, didn’t it? I need to help you…”

Kuko shied away from your touch but you can see he’s actively fighting his body’s natural response to protect himself, freezing in place to allow you to place a hand on his shoulder. You kept your movements deliberately slow to prove you meant no harm, not like you could even consider raising a hand to him after he had saved you from who knows what kind of fate. He had half a mind to argue with you about trying to help him when you were injured yourself but he was too tired to even argue, his dad would’ve laughed if he heard that one.

“We should sleep…” After you had replaced his bandages with clean one you sent an exasperated look to your home, disliking the fact it was so messy despite none of it being your fault.

“We can just clean tomorrow.” Kuko flopped himself unceremoniously onto the floor beside your bed, hands behind his head like a pillow with his legs crossed; he winced a bit at the impact but otherwise gave no indication he was uncomfortable. You’re about to question his decision to sleep directly beside you but there really didn’t seem to be enough room in your home with a table flipped over in the middle of it, so it was easier to just settle yourself in beside him and hope he wasn’t secretly some pervert.  

Wait, did he say we?

“So, you’re going to stay this time?” You turned on your side to look at him, “I could use some extra help in the woods tomorrow… It shouldn’t be too rough a walk with your injuries… but I guess it’s selfish of me to ask a stranger to just help me out with my own chores…”

“Hmph. I guess I can help.” Kuko’s eyes are closed yet he’s unable to sleep, peaking one open when he hears you shuffling around next to him in an attempt to get comfortable. Even with a bruise forming on your temple you’re as stunning as ever, the young ninja biting his lip as he wondered how much of this was a sense of duty and how much was just him indulging his personal desires.

“Thank you…” You finally whispered out as sleep overcame you.

Kuko is left speechless, cheeks warm as he tries to settle his rapidly beating heart.

[bookofmirth]

after rereading the series and finally finishing silver flames ( which i truly enjoyed, even when there were points which felt disappointing and a little incoherent ) i feel like i can finally pinpoint what is so jarring to me regarding this series. It just seems so disjointed, which becomes especially apparent after reading MaF and the immediately reading WaR.

We move from the first two novels of the series, which are coherent and clean, to WaR - which is hoenstly just a mess, something which was so blatant to me on the reread. during this time, it’s clear that sjm made several massive changes to link this book to the future spin offs, and also obviously changes her original plan to pair mor and azriel - which monumentally changes the way that the previous book is read, and the perception of their characters.

Even with FaS - setting up for cassian and nestas story, sjm completely changes direction between this release and silver flames. And all of that lead up with the Illyrian rebellions and cassians not being respected as a bastard, and his mission fighting for Illyrian female rights - amounts to absolutely nothing.

Don’t get me wrong, I really really enjoyed silver flames, and perhaps some of these ideas will crop up in azriels book and therefore won’t be wasted. But it just makes the series feel disjointed and leaves me at least, feeling unfulfilled.

Sjm is such a good author, in ToG the plot was expertly executed and when you reread the series, you can see hints and foreshadowing even back to book one. She knew exactly where she was going almost from the beginning, and each decision and plot point was used to create impact and build up to the ending. I don’t get that with acotar.

There is so so so much build, and almost no pay off - and I really got that sense in acosf, I loved it as a stand alone - but when we look at it through the perspective of the entire series, there were things which grated and a lot of things which I felt were built up to and nothing happened... Tomas, Cassians mother ( was so sure we would learn where she was buried at least ) the Illyrian rebellions and the Illyrians hatred and disrespect towards Cassian, Mor and Nestas relationship, CASSIAN AND MORS RELATIONSHIP ( I understand that the mor situation will be something which is focused upon primarily in azriels book, or hopefully her own, however their relationship involves Cassian as much as them both and I really wish Cassian had actually confronted the part he played in that whole situation - a part he played for 500 (!!!!) years. It’s a role which he was unable to relinquish in ACOWAR, and actively rejects Nesta to act as a buffer multiple times, seeing it as an obligation almost - and then in SF, pays it no attention at all. Feyre and Nestas relationship also isn’t really touched upon, as if that final act healed everything - what about that interrupted conversation in the library, when Nesta was cut off ? Why Nesta always favoured Elain, even Amren and Nesta - we still don’t really know what happened there... argh there’s just so much potential and so much set up, and it just seems forgotten about ? It makes the book seem disjointed and a bit of a let down.

Yesss I totally get what you mean here. ToG is honestly the superior series, and it’s because it has the cohesion that acotar doesn’t. Everything feels like it’s meant to be there, each character, each worldbuilding detail, their histories, everything just comes together in a wonderful way that just wrecked me when EoS came out and then was resolved perfectly in KoA.

Compared to that, acotar feels like sjm is figuring things out along the way and it is seriously driving me nuts. I’ve had multiple conversations with other people in Discords and they’ve said similar things. acotar at this point feels like sjm is just coming up with random ass ideas and throwing them in. No book in the series feels more like that than acowar. And it was that point where we knew that there would be more books, right? So combined with the fact that she pounded that book out and it got rather half-assed editing, you’re probably right that a lot of things were changed in order to set up the other books, even though it didn’t make sense with what she’d written before. 

I agree with you re: Mor and Az, and I feel like I’ve been seeing more people say that lately? That there is a feeling that they actually were supposed to be together and she changed her mind? I wrote a bunch of fics for them back in the day and they’ve gotten a bit more attention lately. But once acowar came out I was like, I’m gonna reread, and I’m gonna find all the clues, I’m gonna see where all this build-up was, and.... considering how often people say that sjm is so “good” at foreshadowing, I’m sorry, but not in this series. In ToG, yes, because she had a clear goal at the end! She knew where she was going and she stayed on that path. In acotar, idfk. Anyway my point is that I’ve reread the series a couple of times through since acowar came out and I’m still over here shrugging because up until that point, Mor and Az could be read in completely opposite ways. (Maybe it’s an Azriel thing, given the current discourse, idk.)

I will say, however, that we had clues that there was tension between them and I had noted that Az is quiet troubled and even pre-acomaf, I would not have been surprised by his extra in acosf. But all of that could have been addressed with Mor and Az still being together? We all had plenty of explanations at the time for the tension, and Mor being queer was like 1 of 100 of those explanations. 

If we look at Mor’s character through the books we have so far, I still see almost zero signs that she’s queer except for her literally saying “I like women and Rita’s has a lot of women and here’s my gay story”. Other than that, there is like..... nothing that feels organically queer about her!!! And I love her and I want her to be gay af!!!! But I wonder if my forgiveness of how acowar went down was more about my personal reaction than how well the story was actually done.

And the fact that, like you said, there is still no resolution to the fact that Cassian is supposedly a buffer between Mor and Azriel? Like???? We were all sitting here after acowar thinking “okay, well if she’s gay then someone knows. Someone has to know. She can’t just be gay and NO ONE WHO LOVES HER KNOWS.” 

Then in comes acosf with a big “fuck you, y’all thought” which just.... to me, it signals that her queerness was an afterthought. It’s still an afterthought because her queerness is limited to Mor and women blushing at her and Mor has her corner of the world in which she can be gay, but that gay never spills out into any other aspect of her life. It’s just conveniently isolated so that it doesn’t touch or affect other characters. 

In terms of continuity, acowar was such a huge shifting point in the series that people left in droves. It was a huge mess in the fandom. And then acofas was just fluff with no real point in pushing the story forward - even the Nesta stuff was a sneak peek, it had nothing to do with acofas itself. And now acosf comes in ignoring things she had set up previously, with almost zero nuanced discussion of the Cassian/Azriel/Mor thing, which means she still (?) doesn’t know what’s going on there. And I think that we did get some answers with Nesta’s reflection on her relationship with her mother, but the deal with the Illyrian rebellion was just in the way so let’s nix that, and then let’s focus on Eris (🤮) just because she feels like it even though she’s set up all these other characters whose stories need more. (Much like acowar, this paragraph is a MESS LOL)

And yes I KNOW that the series isn’t over, clearly, but she keeps setting things up and then letting them go nowhere, or making them seem important and then resolving them off-page, or changing character relationships (Mor and Az) but then having the characters involved act exactly the same, as if nothing had changed (by having the “buffer” situation still exist as a real thing).

I did enjoy the book, a lot, it was a fun read. But tbh we have so many arguments and disagreements within the fandom rn because things have been so left open to interpretation that we it’s not even a matter of “oh I saw this slightly differently”, it’s “WHAT book did these people even read???” That’s kinda weird, to me. There is reader response, and then there is what we have now, which is people having absolute opposite reactions to what they think happened in acosf. 

[everything-person]

Last Voyage

Summary: Emma surprises Killian with an old fashioned voyage with his old crew then Killian has a surprise for Emma

*cough cough*

“You alright?”

“Fine love. Just needed to clear my throat.”

Killian and Emma were walking along the beach in the early morning slowly making their way to the docks.

“We’re almost there.”

“What’s with all the secrecy love?”

Emma smiles up at him there was a shine in her eyes, “You’ll see.”

They made their way down the pier where the Jolly Roger was docked.

“Do you wish to have another one of our private adventures aboard the Jolly Roger? If that’s all you could have just said Swan.”

“Not this time.”

They made their way into the deck where they were greeted by some familiar faces.

“Welcome aboard Captain.”

Before them stood Henry, Hope, Smee and some of his old crew.

Killian smiled while also furrowing his brow. Turning to his wife for answers.

“I thought you might wish to have a day at sea. Re-live your glory days.”

“My glory days started the day I met you Swan.” Picking up her hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. “Will you be joining me, love?”

“No,” she whispered, “not this time. I have somethings to take care of.”

He turned to Henry and Hope. He approached them with open arms.

“Then it’s looks like we’ll be having all the fun. Don’t worry love I’ll have them back before Sundown and we will eagerly enrapture you with our tales of our adventurous day.”

Henry looked down before meeting his eyes, “Actually we promised mom we’d help her with her stuff today. Maybe tonight we can play dice. I might just beat you this time.”

“Oh then perhaps I should give Dave a call. Show him what a pirates life was like.”

Henry shifted clearing his throat before saying, “Uh Grandpa is taking care of the sheriff office while we are helping mom today. Sorry but you stuck with your old crew for today.”

Killian nodded at Henry before turning his attention to his daughter. She had the same shine in her eyes as her mother, biting her lip, looking anywhere but at him.

“What’s wrong lass?”

She inhaled a deep breath before speaking, “Nothing Papa. I’ll just miss you.”

He cupped his daughters face, “Don’t worry, my little cygnet. I’ll be home tonight.”

She nodded embracing him. She burrows her face in his chest breathing him in. “I love you Papa.”

Killian squeezes his daughter not sure what has her so distraught, “I love you to my little cygnet. From your first breath far beyond my last.”

Hope let go heading to the gang plank quickly, without another glance to her father.

Henry approached the man that’s been a mentor, a father figure to him. Wrapping him in his arms, “Good bye Killian.”

Letting go he followed his sister down the gang plank waiting for his mother at the bottom.

Killian turned to see the love of his life standing there. She took slow step towards him her eyes never leaving his. Reaching up held his face, her eyes scanned every inch.

“What’s wrong Emma?”

She’s hooked her head offering him a smile, “Nothing. It just. . . sometimes I can’t believe that blacksmith I tied to a tree that said I need him alive would be so right.”

Killian chuckled, “Aye. Sometimes I can’t believe I forgot about that damned bar wench that kissed the hell out of me.”

She smiled, leaning up catch his lips in a soft kiss. Pulling away she rested her forehead against his, “I love you Killian. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you too Emma. Forever and always.”

Her hands slid down his cheeks to his neck over his shoulders down his arm grasping his hook and hand. Her eyes never leaving his, she started backing away holding onto his hand until she was to far away to hold on any more. Letting her hand fall she turned making her way off the ship. Henry reaches out his hand to help her off the last step intertwining her arm with him.

“When did you become such a gentleman?”

“I’m always a gentleman mom. I learned from the best.”

They made their way up the pier. They say and watched as the ship set sail. Her Captain on the quarter deck waving to his family before turning to wheel where he belonged.

As they stood watching Hope couldn’t hold in her emotions anymore. A sob escaped her lips, as tears started pouring out her eyes. “He should be home. We should be with him.”

Emma embraces her daughter, “That’s never how he wanted to go.”

“But he was fine. He was walking and knew who we were.”

“He also thought Grandpa was alive. He didn’t see us. He probably saw you as the little girl who would ask him to close the window so Peter Pan couldn’t get her. He probably saw me as the ten year old boy he helped rescue from Neverland.”

Emma pulled away looking at her children who have grown into adults that stood before her now.

“Yes but he is so proud of the people you have become. He was so happy to be a father and be apart of this family. He loves you both so much.”

Hope let out another sob as Henry wrapped an arm around her, letting one lone tear slide down his cheek.

“Besides it’s for the best he didn’t see me as I am now. A wrinkly old crown with gray straw for hair,” Emma let out a breathy laugh.

Henry shook his head, “He saw you as you actually are. He always has. The beautiful Savior.”

Emma smiled at her son, “Come on let’s go home.”

Later Emma was going through some things in their room. Remembering all the good times they’ve shared in this house. The wonderful life he shared with her.

She opened his night stand finding the copy of Treasure Island she gave him.

“This is ridiculous. This person obviously had no idea what they were bloody talking about,” Killian muttered.

Emma rolled over, “Babe Go to bed.”

“This book is an atrocity love.”

“Then stop reading it.”

“Why would I do that when they just started the mutiny?”

She laughed to herself. She would always try showing him how this realm reviews pirates with movies and books. Every time he would get riled up but any time she suggested to turn it off or throw the book out he would refuse having to see how it ends.

The next thing she pulled out was a familiar black scarf.

“So now you’re a gentleman?”

“Giants can smell blood. And I’m always a gentleman.” Hook said before putting liquid on her hand.

“Ah! Ow! What is that?”

“Rum and a bloody waste of it.”

He gently wrapped her hand with the soft material tying it off with his mouth. Her fingers lightly brushing against his cheek.

Emma sighed remembering the spark she felt. Wondering not for the first time how much more time they would’ve had if she trusted him. If they came back together. How different their adventures would’ve been.

Something shiny caught her eye and she reached in and pulled out the last item in the drawer.

It was one of his hooks.

Killian kicked open their bedroom door while his lips fused to her. Her legs wrapped around his hips her latched around his neck.

Coming up for air Emma whispers, “Never do that again.”

“I’ll never leave your side even if the gods try to rip us a apart,” he promised before capturing her lips again.

Falling onto the bed they began divesting each other of their clothing. Killian reaches to take off his hook. Emma reaches her hand up, only in her bra and underwear, looking at him through her eyelashes.

“Leave it on.”

Killian groans, “You little minx.”

Emma sighed. As the memory fades away. So many nights, and some days, filled with passion. Both of them always willing to show the other how much they love them. Always up to meet a challenge.

Moving to put the items back in their respective places the book falls from her lap and clatters to the floor. Emma places the scarf and hook back before reaching down picking up the book. When she lifts it a note falls from its pages. Placing the book on the bed she once again reaches down and grabs the fallen piece of paper.

Unfolding it she is greeted with Killian hand writing.

‘Dearest Swan,

I’m sorry. I never wished to leave and now I have no choice in the matter. It seems to be a cruel joke. To be sent back to you by the gods themselves only to have my mind unravel while I’m still with you. I know I don’t have much time left. And I plan to cherish every moment with you I can.

When I do go, all I wish is to be at your side. For the last thing I hold is our family in my arms. The last thing I touch be your face. The last thing I taste be you lips. The last thing I see is the love in your eyes for me. If I am to drawn my last breath I wish it is your kiss that steals it.

And when I am gone. I will keep my promise I made all those years ago. I will move on but I promise you no heaven the gods can provide will compare to the life I have lived with you.

You are the love on my life. The mother of my children. My wife. My savior. My true love.

However long we are apart that will never change. My love will stay with you and I hope give you comfort in your time of need. And when it is your time I can only hope that the gods will once again reunite us.

Until then I ask that every day you live. Hug our children and give them an extra squeeze for me.

With all my love. Yours from the end of the realms and time.

Killian’

Tears fell freely from her eyes. They were never sure if Killian knew what was happening to him. Now she had proof that he did.

A noise pulled her from her thoughts. Still clutching the note to her chest she made her way downstairs. Sharp knocking was coming from her front door.

She opened it to find a pair of blue eye that she engraved into her memory.

“Killian.”

He bent down wrapping her in his arms, burying his face in her neck.

“Sorry ma’am I know you weren’t expecting us so soon but he insisted on turning around and coming home,” Smee explained his signature hat in his hands.

“That’s alright. Thank you for bringing him home.”

Smee nodded, closing the door as he left.

“Why did you send me away love?”

“I thought you’d like to be at sea when the time came.”

Killian finally lifted his head, his gaze burning into her, “Don’t you know Swan all I have ever wanted was to be with you.”

Emma gave him a sad smile, “I do now.”

They made their way up to their bed laying down curling up together one last time. They not sure how long they laid there just enjoying their time together.

Killian reaches up brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “I think it’s time love.”

Emma nodded scooting closer.

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“You aren’t,” she said with a shaky breath her lip quivering, “You will always be with me. And I’ll follow you shortly.”

She leaned up capturing his lips once last time. She pulls away resting her forehead against his.

“I love you Emma Swan,” he whispered.

She watched as the deep blue eyes that looked last all her walls that have always saw her closed for the last time.

A tear fell from her eye landing on his cheek sliding down his face.

“I love you Killian Jones.”