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#our characters were stoned literally the entire time.

halfbloodgf · 14 days

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Can we talk about the fact that Severus Snape left everyone, both the characters and the readers, like this: 🤡🤡

I mean, no one knew wtf was going on with him. One moment u think he's bad, the next u think he's good. And then u think he's the villain again. But then he gives his memories to Harry and we all realize that he was the fucking hero all along.

In hp1, we think it's Snape who was trying to steal the philosopher's stone, or who tried to knock Harry off his broom. But then comes the end, and we find out that he stopped Harry from falling (saved his life) and was protecting the stone...🤡

We still hated him in hp 2 and 3...

In hp4 Harry suspects that Snape had the Dark Mark, and ends up discovering that he did. There's even the scene that Harry sees: Igor Karkaroff accuses Snape in court in front of the Wizengamot, saying he was a Death Eater, and we're all like😯😃 (finally know the truth!!). But then Dumbledore defends him😐🧍🏻‍♀️, and no one, not Karkaroff, not Harry, not us readers, understand anything. We don't know whether to trust him or not. So, again...🤡

In hp5 everything is confusing with him. We don't know if he wants to help Harry (occlumency lessons) or not. He calls Voldemort "Dark Lord" (only Death Eaters do), we see his worst memory, which, again, leaves us bewildered and not knowing what the hell to think of him now. Harry himself doubts that his father was a good person, even wondering if James didn't force Lily to marry him, and empathizes with Snape. Then the whole thing with the prophecies, and Harry trying to warn Snape about Sirius and his supposed kidnapping. The Order arrives to save Harry and his friends, which suggests that Snape warned them.

But along comes hp and the Half-Blood Prince, Snape appears to be helping Draco Malfoy with what the Lord entrusted him with —The scene where Bellatrix accuses him, tells him that she doesn't trust him, and then she is surprised:

In the books:

[...]Do you really think that the Dark Lord has not asked me each and every one of those questions? And do you really think that, had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I would be sitting here talking to you?”

She hesitated. “I know he believes you, but…”

“You think he is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him? Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?”

[...]

“And through all this we are supposed to believe Dumbledore has never suspected you?” asked Bellatrix. “He has no idea of your true allegiance, he trusts you implicitly still?”

“I have played my part well,” said Snape.

In the movies:

The line where he says “Dumbledore is a great wizard”, Snape is actually being smug and subtly saying he’s such a good actor (I mean, come on, the man deserves a fucking Oscar), he’s managed to deceive Voldemort so well that he has revealed his grand plan to him. He practically seems to be laughing at the double meaning of his own words, mocking and lying to the black sister's faces like the fucking boss he is. The way he's literally drinking a glass of wine while laughing at the Dark Lord. The whole scene is just excellent.

So at the end of hp6, Snape reveals to us that he was the half-blood prince for whom the fucking book is named, ends up murdering none other than ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, and we all learn that all this time his true loyalties were with the dark side...🤡

Oh no, wait! Hp7 arrives, Voldemort kills Snape :0 (Yes!), gives his memories to Harry, and Harry sees his memories and... (NOO😦😨😰😭💔💀). We found out he wasn't the bad guy. That, in fact, he was IN LOVE WITH HARRY'S MOM —"always" still hurts :')— That all this time he was our ally...🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

He practically played with all of us, with LORD VOLDEMORT, the Death Eaters, the Order of the Phoenix, Harry... well, WITH EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE WIZARDING WORLD. And he did it as if he were:

Harry fucking Potter named one of his sons after him, which must have made a lot of people roll in their graves (James and Sirius out of anger, Snape out of laughter).

This mf literally woke up one day and said: "okay, here begins my reputation era bitches.😎 Let's leave a few of them looking like🤡🤡"

PD: Sorry if something is written wrong, english is not my language.

#severus snape #snape love #harry potter #professor snape #pro snape #snape

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bingwriterxo · 11 months

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backseat

pairing: vada cavell x reader

summary: in which you accidentally make vada jealous

warnings: smut (character is 18+), 18+ (minors DNI), fingering, strap-on sex

word count: 2200+

author's note: killed multiple birds with one stone on this one. also, never wrote strap-on smut before, so hope this is ok...

"You've got this, Y/N," Mia whispered, her face hovering close to yours, voice barely loud enough to hear over the music blaring through her home. "Just...focus."

"I'm trying," you said, your arm raised, a ping pong ball gripped between your forefinger and thumb. "But someone is breathing over my shoulder."

"Oh." She took a step back. "Is that better?"

"Much." You closed one eye, aimed at the last red solo cup on the opposite end of the table, and took your shot. The ball soared through the air, and you swore that time stopped for a moment. Both you and Mia froze as the ball circled the rim of the cup once, twice, before finally dropping in and declaring you guys the winners.

Mia threw her arms around your shoulders in a tight hug. "Let's go!" she squealed,

You flipped off your opponents. "Suck it, bitches!"

"Oh, real classy!" Nick scoffed, taking a sip of his drink. He reached into the cup, pulled out the ball, and threw it at you. It lamely brushed against your side before falling to the ground, rolling off somewhere.

"I declare a rematch!" Vada yelled. "A rematch is being declared!"

Mia pulled away from you. "Nuh-uh! You guys lost fair and square." She pointed down to the cups that were still on the table--the almost full triangle that Nick and Vada had been unable to get rid of. "It's not our fault you guys suck!"

"Yeah! Losers!" you shouted, joining in on the teasing. "Maybe you guys should actually try to be good at the game. That might help."

Vada frowned, her eyebrows furrowing a little, and you wanted to kiss away the wrinkle that formed between them. "You guys are sore winners."

You grinned, crossing the length of the table to take her in your arms. "Aw, don't be so upset, baby," you cooed, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. "S'not our faults you're bad at pong."

She groaned. "I think you cheated. There's literally no other explanation, because Nick and I are beasts at pong. We are the unbeatable pair. We never lose, so you must have cheated. Maybe you rigged the ball, or maybe--"

"Or maybe I'm just good at this game?" you interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no. That can't be it."

You giggled, pulling back from your girlfriend. She didn't let you get far, her own arms snaking around your waist and tugging you back toward her.

"Thought you wanted a rematch?"

Vada shrugged. "That can wait," she said shortly, her eyes flitting down to your lips. She leaned up and kissed you, deep enough that you could taste the vodka on her breath. You hummed against her, a thought sparking in your alcohol-hazed mind.

"I need another drink," you murmured when she pulled away. When she frowned, you asked, "Do you want to come with me?"

"The kitchen is so far, though," she whined, stomping her feet a little like a child, and you chuckled, glancing behind you; the two of you were, maybe, ten steps away from where all of the liquor was.

"Ever the drama queen, Vads," you said. You untangled yourself from her, taking one of her hands loosely in your fingers. "But I need a drink."

She grumbled in defeat but nodded her head. "I'll wait here 'til you return from your journey."

You shook her head, a soft smile on your lips. "I'll be two minutes." You kissed her again and ventured off to the kitchen, your eyes trained on the tequila that Mia had generously bought for the party.

You grabbed a new cup, poured a healthy amount of tequila into it, and topped it off with the nearest mixer you could find--fruit punch. It was a strange combination, but you decided that it wasn't entirely unwelcome when you tasted the drink.

Spinning on your heel, your mind was fully set on finding Vada again and maybe pulling her into the living room, where all of the furniture had been pushed against the walls to create a dance floor. However, you barely got a step in before you immediately collided with another person, your drink spilling down your front.

"Oh, shit!" the person cursed. "Sorry, dude."

You glanced up, catching sight of Kayden, the self-anointed stoner of your grade and...your ex-boyfriend. He was grinning down at you, pearly-whites on display, and you smiled back, glad for once that you two had ended on good terms, or else the interaction would've been more than awkward.

"S'all good, Kayd," you said, bringing up a hand and swatting at any of the extra liquid that hadn't seeped into your shirt yet. Luckily, you had chosen to wear black, so you could barely see the spill. Unluckily, the top didn't cover much, which meant most of your drink landed on bare skin. "Although I am a little sticky now."

"C'mon." He grabbed your wrist. "Lemme help with that." He tugged you toward the sink, and you followed with a shrug, ignoring the neon-red, flashing sign in your head that screamed Don't!

You squeezed past people until you made it to the sink. Kayden already had it turned on, and there was a paper towel in his hand that he ran beneath the water until it was soaked. He whirled around, immediately pressing the paper towel to your stomach. You squealed at the coldness of it, a shiver running down your spine.

"Fuck," you whined. "You couldn't have used warm water?"

He chuckled. "Sorry, man," he drawled. "Too late for that."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, no shit. Gimme that." You took the paper towel from his hand to wipe yourself off, but the damage was already done.

"Y/N." Her voice was loud, her tone short. You whipped around, your eyes wide as they landed on a pissed-looking Vada. She stood a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pulled into a deep frown. "What the fuck?" she seethed.

You ignored the voice in your head that was telling you she looked hot, hot, hot all mad like that, and the stirring in your lower belly, and focused on trying to save yourself. "Vads, baby, it's not--"

She lunged forward and grabbed your forearm, the paper towel slipping from your grasp and landing on the floor. Without a second word, she was yanking you through the party. You passed by your friends--Mia with a smirk on her face and Nick with his eyebrows furrowed--and offered them a shrug, just as confused as Nick seemed.

Your confusion only grew as you were tugged out the front door, down the porch steps, through the maze of cars in the driveway, and out the gate.

"Vada, where--"

Things started to click when your own car loomed in the distance. The two of you were approaching the vehicle quickly, and you fumbled around in your pocket for your keys. When you found them, you pushed the button to unlock the doors, perfectly timing it as Vada pulled on the handle and all but threw you into the backseat. It never failed to surprise you whenever she showed how strong she really was.

She climbed in after you, slammed the door shut, and then her lips were on yours, feverish and hot and mad. You moaned against her, trying to push yourself to sit up, but she didn't let you, one hand pressing down on your hip while the other was holding herself up.

She pulled away for the smallest second, and in the light of the streetlamp, you could see that her eyes were half-lidded, dark, and angry. Her head dipped down to your jaw, planting open-mouthed kisses along your skin, before dropping to your neck, teeth nipping and tongue soothing the bites.

"Vads," you breathed out, your hips bucking up.

"You're mine," she gritted into your neck, her leg coming up and pressing against your center.

You groaned, rolling your hips into her thigh and whining at the little contact you got. "Vads, baby, please."

Her hand flew down, fumbling with the button of your pants, and you giggled a little at her ineptness. She glared at you, all signs of possessiveness diminished. "A little help here?"

"Sure, sweetheart." You reached down, knocking her hand to the side, and undid your own pants. Almost as soon as you were done, Vada's hand was pushing yours out of the way so that she could pull your pants down your thighs and slip beneath your underwear, and you whimpered at the feeling of her brushing through your folds.

"Fuck, you're wet," she groaned, two fingers slipping into you easily as her thumb ran over your clit in tight circles.

You sighed at the feeling, hips careening upward as she curled her fingers. "Always for you, baby."

She nipped at your neck again and then pulled her head up, staring down at you. That dark look was back, the kind that made your knees buckle and had you knowing that Vada would have you seeing stars.

"For me? Yeah? Or for Kayden." There was venom in her voice when she said his name, and she thrusted into you harder, a moan slipping past your lips at the pressure.

"You, Vads." You gasped as her fingers curled into the rough spot in you. "Just--just you."

Her pace quickened, her fingers dragging against your walls and her thumb never ceasing on your clit. Your orgasm was fast approaching, urged on by Vada kissing your chest, your neck, your lips--anything she could reach.

"Fuck," you whimpered. "I'm gonna cum." At your words, Vada swiftly pulled out, and you were left a whining mess beneath her. "Vada!" you cried. "I was so close!"

She didn't spare you a second glance as her hand rushed down to her basketball shorts, pushing them down her legs. You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Yeah, I don't think we have room for scissori--" You were cut short by the feel of silicone pressing against your thigh, and you gulped. "You wore--"

"Was hoping the night would end like this," Vada confessed. "Well, not exactly like this. I didn't wanna see your ex trying to clean you off, or whatever the fuck that was, and I was kinda hoping we would be in a bed and not the backseat of your car, but--"

You rolled your eyes, reaching down and tugging on the fake cock between her legs. She gasped and her hips pushed forward, knocking the head of the toy against your folds. "You gonna ramble or are you gonna fuck me?" you teased, grinning at the furrow of her brows.

"Fuck you," she spat, and you were about to repeat the words right back to her when she sank in, pushing the air straight from your lungs and pulling a high-pitched moan from your lips. "Not so bratty now, huh?"

She drove her hips forward, forcing you to take the entire length. You squealed, pleasure rushing through every vein. Your hands shot up and wrapped around her back, nails digging into her t-shirt. She didn't give you a moment to adjust as she pulled out before pushing right back in, setting a brutal pace.

"Jesus, fuck," you groaned, throwing your head back. "It--You feel so good."

She leaned down, her full body weight on you as she fucked into you, lips pressed against your ear. "Can Kayden fuck you like this?" she grunted, her hips speeding up as she said his name.

You could barely hear her over the feeling of her cock in you, drowning out all of your thoughts as she thrusted harder, faster. Vada pulled back, sat up on her knees, and pushed your thighs up, making her go deeper. You gasped, whined, reached to bring her back to you, but she stayed up, pounding harder.

"I said, can Kayden fuck you like this?" she repeated between groans.

"No," you breathed out. "Just you, Vads."

She smirked, cocky, victorious. "God, you're such a good girl." The praise nearly had you falling off the edge, orgasm just out of reach. "My good girl. Takin' my cock so good."

"Fuck, baby. Gonna cum. So close," you babbled.

Her hips started to stutter, letting you know that she was right there with you. She reached down, thumb circling your clit, and you came with a low groan, the sound scratching itself out of your throat.

Vada kept pumping with half-assed thrusts, and you clenched around her, sensitive. "I'm right there," she grunted. She dropped your legs and all but fell onto you. "Fuck, fuck, gonna--"

She moaned into your ear as her orgasm hit, her hips finally slowing. You shuddered beneath her, walls fluttering around the cock still buried in you.

"Jesus, baby," you panted. "Guess I gotta talk to Kayden more often at parties."

She pushed herself up, glaring at you. "Don't even." She slipped out of you, and you shivered, watching as she pulled her shorts up. "Gonna have to wash these shorts when we get home."

You nodded, pulling her back on top of you even though you were hot and sweaty and still a little sticky from your drink. "Gonna have to wash myself when we get home."

Vada grinned against your neck. "I can help you with that."

bonus: "where do you think they're going?" nick asked as he watched vada drag you out the front door.

"i don't think we want to know," mia said.

"should we go after them?"

"definitely not."

#vada cavell x reader #vada cavell #vada x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna x reader #the fallout

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vanvelding · 8 months

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I'm going to say one of the nicest things I can about a show about Star Trek: Lower Decks

They played us like a string quartet.

(Spoilers for 4x09: "The Inner Fight")

Lower Decks was sold a Star Trek/Rick & Morty mashup from the start. The first scene is a drunken Mariner literally harming her sidekick, Boimler. It practically screamed, "Mariner & Boimler a hundred tours! Double-u, double-u, double-u dot Mariner and boimler dot com!"

But of course, it also had Star Trek references. One of the earliest is "Who would win in a fight? Khan or Roga Danar?" Why would anyone else in The Federation know or care who Roga Danar is? And there's no imagination on display for the oldest referential paradigm, "Who would win in a fight?" Lazy. Bullshit.

Of course before the end of season one, Lower Decks showed us it was more than that. Boimler was gaining the kind of experience he needed. The story hinted very strongly that Mariner had been in Starfleet a LONG time. She wasn't a omnicompotent mary sue; she was a Commander with her own philosophy/trauma that compelled her to remain an Ensign.

It was a good show and it stood on its own. The references were used well to create interesting stories ("Twovix"), as part of the setting ("Hear All, Trust Nothing"), or just as a gag here and there ("Kayshon, His Eyes Open" and, like a dozen others). The references to the setting become the background radiation, remarkable in how deep a cut they really are (Vendorians?). I've described it to many people as "Star Trek, but everyone has watched Star Trek."

What it wasn't, was related to its namesake. "Lower Decks" was a surprisingly heavy episode about the younger members of the Enterprise crew and their perspective on the missions of galactic import that the viewer usually enjoys an omnisicent view of.

Lower Decks mentions our main cast don't have that omniscient view, but Mariner is a stone-cold badass, Rutherford was part of a secret effort to develop artificial intelligence, Tendi is the Mistress of the Winter Constellations, and Boimler--actually Biomler is no more exceptional than any other Starfleet officer.

So when we get our main cast and the senior officers into a room and they mention Nick Locarno, our thought is, "LOL, another reference. This one from TNG. Not particularly deep. LOL, Boimler is a Beverly Crusher fanboy. I guess it makes sense, they have the character model from the episode with Tom Paris. Clearly, Robert Duncan McNeil is happy to do some voice work. We'll probably make a reference to how much he looks like Tom Paris.

"lol"

Look, if you figured it out then pat yourself on the back. Me? I filed away another reference. I didn't realize that Nick Locarno was connected to the episode of TNG that was this entire series' namesake. The characters even say, "Who?" which is one of the first times they don't get a Star Trek reference. Because Nick Locarno isn't a part of the Star Trek universe they view with an enthusiastic fandomness; it's part of their dramatic history, whether they know it or not.

"ha-ha, I guess Nick Locarno is too deep a cut for the show that called back to Morgan fucking Bateson."

But whatever, A-plot/B-plot. Gags about Starfleet habitually rolling up to seedy establishments in uniforms while looking for information, which is subverted by Captain Freeman being fucking genre savvy (also, wasn't she going to be promoted before getting arrested at the end of season two? I guess getting framed for a crime was deemed to be not very 'admiral-able'). Mariner ends up in a cave with a Klingon taking shelter from a crystal rain.

The pieces are there. Mariner was an ensign during The Dominion War. Two to three years before The Dominion War, Wesley Crusher left Starfleet, our Nick Locarno expy Tom Paris was recruited to Voyager, and Sito Jaxa was an ensign.

And Nick Locarno is in play.

We could have figured it out! We're in the narrative and emotional third act of this series (Tendi gave us the "We'll always be friends" speech last week)! Everyone regular just sat in a room trying to figure out how to help Mariner; we were one fruit salad analogy away from an intervention with Dr. Migleemoo!

Mariner escapes from Cardassian interrogation chambers for fun!

But Locarno is just another TNG reference, like Beverly Crusher. Background radiation. The season's story arc is something original to Lower Decks, which it's proven it's unafraid to do at this point. The series has no relation to "Lower Decks"

And then they fucking hit us with it; Beckett Mariner knew Sito Jaxa. They were friends. Then Jaxa died.

That's Mariner's trauma (that and The Dominion War).

And I didn't see it because I came to see Lower Decks as a series that stood on its own merits as a show while calling back to earlier Treks in a light, non-committal way. And I credit that solely to the writing of the show which leveraged both of those qualities to make an entertaining show that I like before, but now respect.

Just amazing stuff.

#star trek #star trek lower decks #star trek lwd #lower decks #lower decks spoilers #star trek lwd spoilers

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aclowntiny · 6 months

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Hiiii!!! First I wanna say how much I really like your work! Also, I stumbled upon our Seventeen and Enhypen as Hogwarts students, but saw you didn’t have it for Stray Kids 😭 I know they’ve mentioned in 2019 what house they think they are, but you seem to have a much better understanding of the houses and I’m very curious to see what you would think their houses would be.

I was wondering if I could request a similar sort of headcannon for them 🥹 Thank you!

Heck yeah! Can't believe I didn't do this sooner tbh but I love this so here we are 😌 I agree, not necessarily that I'm the best at the job, lol, but that people just go for very generic ideas of the houses (Gryffindor is cool, Slytherin is evil, Hufflepuff is nice/silly, Ravenclaw is smart) rather than the true reflection of where they'd be hehe! Like Ravenclaw is actually also known for being artistic and eccentric, Slytherin for strong determination, Hufflepuff for acceptance and breaking tradition, Gryffindor for being the other self-sacrificing house. So sometimes people just say "I'm a Gryffindor because I'm a good guy!!!" anyway rant over here's the actual content we want🤣

🏰 Stray Kids as Hogwarts Students🔮

Bang Chan

☆ Some kids got sorted instantly, but with one Christopher Bang the Hat took longer. Muttered to itself a lot as it waffled between his qualities, dubbing him hardworking and courageous and ambitious and loving. He couldn't help but flush under the hat's words, almost not hearing when its voice finally bellowed "Gryffindor!”

☆ Being Pure-Blood was only ever a phrase on a family tree for Chris. Who one’s ancestors were, what they looked like, or how much money they had said nothing for their value- only their choices and character did that.

☆ It’s only a formal class for one year, but he adores Flying. The feeling of freedom and getting to have some time outside is heaven for him. Defense Against the Dark Arts is another favorite for the similar reason of being able to get active and challenge himself, even literally facing his fears.

☆ Astronomy is very cool to him, but he finds having to fill in the same charts week after week a bit repetitive and not the best use of his time, frankly.

☆ Gryffindor’s Quidditch captain! He plays Keeper, working with great patience and synergy with the rest of the team to keep the goals clear.

☆ Blessed is the only word Chris can think of when he realizes how many happy memories he can pull from- not everyone can say that. As the word comes to mind, his wand lights up, producing a shining silver wolf standing majestically, protectively, before him.

Lee Know

☆ "You're an interesting one," came the Hat's comment upon touching Minho's head, "you've certainly got your priorities...whatever those are. A unique mind for sure. Better be Ravenclaw!" Some of Minho's friends had teased him as a Slytherin, so he was a bit surprised. Not that he would let his house define him entirely.

☆ He hates the reputation and unnecessary pressure that comes with being a Pure-Blood. It’s stupid and not worth debating in Minho’s mind. The only benefit is just the resources and opportunities he might get, and it’s tempting to turn those down on principle. Money and status don’t matter to him at all and there’s a part of him that wants to ‘sully the bloodline’ just for the hell of it! Luckily his parents don’t care either.

☆ Potions whiz. One of the few who actually get it and enjoy the calm, precise art and its beautiful results and wants to go N.E.W.T. with it. He’s also great at Care of Magical Creatures, naturally focused on the well-being of animals and other living things over his own excitement or whims.

☆ Having a fear of heights, Flying is not it for him. No thanks. He passes, but barely, and in his mind it’s not a skill he plans to use.

☆ Naturally, Minho opts out of Quidditch signups, but instead joins the Gobstones club because he thinks spraying the losers with stone juice is funny. Also gets invited to the Slug Club for his Potions skills and influence.

☆ No one is surprised when Minho closes his eyes, focuses, and boom! Produces a little glowing cat bursting from his wand with a few swipes of its paw to groom its nonexistent striped fur.

Changbin

☆ "Quite a softie underneath it all, eh?" Beneath the weight of the tattered Hat, Changbin strikes a bit of a pose. "Got a lot of ambition, but you've also got a lot of...that. Hmmm..." The Hat muses for a few more moments. "At the end of the day, this one’s a Slytherin!” Pride flows through Changbin’s veins- he doesn’t care for the reputation of producing dark wizards, the potential snobbery. All he cares about is showing his ambition to be the best if he puts his mind to it.

☆ He’s a Half-Blood, but both of his parents are wizards so his familiarity is much more with the Wizarding World. He wants to understand Muggles better to connect with them, too, as well as Muggleborns.

☆ Taking Muggle Studies helps with this and learning about another culture is quite fascinating to him- technology especially is amazing, like that’s what people do instead of magic? Wires of captured lightning? Sounds pretty magical to Changbin. He gets into tinkering with technology because of this. Another class he enjoys is Defense Against the Dark Arts. Changbin loves feeling ready to protect himself and others, so that’s the class he spends the most time practicing and taking notes in. He always thinks of his friends and his sister as he does so.

☆ History of Magic is boring, though, Changbin wants to cast some spells! At the end of the day, where certain spells come from don’t matter to him as long as he can use them. However, the idea of showing up in a ‘great wizards’ history highlight one day is appealing to him…

☆ His strength comes in handy serving as one of Slytherin’s two Beaters. The other teams are lowkey afraid of the Bludgers Changbin sends their way because they know how hard he hits!

☆ Bets are flying on what his Patronus animal would be, a pig or a rabbit. Pig is the most popular choice, mostly in jest, but shushing them all Changbin focuses all the great joy he’s expressing…and out leaps a rabbit! Not just any rabbit, though, but the massive, fluffy form of a Flemish giant rabbit that has everyone laughing and Changbin grinning, reaching out to it.

Hyunjin

☆ Nearly the second the Sorting Hat rests atop his head, it's shouting 'Ravenclaw!' Hyunjin himself can't be surprised, really, not when he's heard talk of the great artists in that house. In fact, pride glows in his chest as he joins his table that the Hat could see that in him.

☆ The Hwangs are an old wizarding family. Hyunjin has a lot of opportunities because of this, but fights against the idea that he could be any better than anyone else because of a name. Rather, he is often seen lifting up Muggleborn classmates and highlighting struggled of other magical people.

☆ Ancient Runes comes naturally to Hyunjin, something about his eye for detail, symbols, and decoding. Language is an area of interest for him so that class is like a beautiful puzzle. Astronomy grants Hyunjin so much art inspiration as well as time to relax and appreciate the gifts of nature and their inherent magic.

☆ There's no one class he hates, but like a lot of students Hyunjin has a harder time focusing on all the information getting dumped on him in History of Magic.

☆ Hyunjin’s extracurriculars include the Muggle Art club where he hones his painting skills and the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, where he plays as the team’s Seeker.

☆ Expectations fly as everyone wonders what the next Hwang’s Patronus will be. Will he get a stag, the majestic animal associated with famous wizards? An eagle, symbolizing his house? Not at all, in fact what Hyunjin summons is a beautiful, delicate silver dove that lights upon his shoulder.

Han

☆ “Don’t be so shy, kid, you’ve got heart.” “Really? Thanks bro.” “Yes, that’s what I’m talking about,” the Hat chuckles, “this one’s a Hufflepuff!” Jisung’s eyes go wide. He wasn’t expecting to get Hufflepuff, but if the hat says so, well, who is he to fight it? It’s nice getting the kindest house, too- maybe he’ll make a lot of friends.

☆ As a Half-Blood, the heavy weight of prejudice never really fell on Jisung. Half-Bloods tended to fall between the cracks as having already been sullied, just middle ground. As he witnesses bullying more and more, though, his passion grows to somehow help others and remind people that nobody can help who their ancestors married.

☆ Charms are quick, snappy, spur-of-the-moment but effective in a pinch, and Jisung likes that. It's fun and he can cast charms as quickly as he cracks a joke or comeback! Ancient Runes brings him a lot of inspiration from history and other languages that he loves to bring to his songwriting.

☆ Flying, thank goodness, isn't enforced every year! It scares him, frankly, and he'd much rather stay on the ground where he belongs.

☆ Because flying isn’t his favorite, no way in hell is he doing it with giant leather and metal things trying to smash him. Nope. However he’ll happily watch and commentate, hence him taking the mic and giving very entertaining descriptions of everything that happens. He’s also in the Frog Choir, always trying to get them to perform one of his compositions.

☆ Jokes around that he’s going to get a massive Patronus animal like a bear or a lion, but once he sees the embodiment of his joy skipping from his wand as a little quokka, he can’t even be embarrassed, just smile!

Felix

☆ "Well, you're just a delight, aren't you?" Felix couldn't tell if the Hat was being sarcastic, but still he chose to respond in kind. "I try!" At that, the Sorting Hat chuckled. "Yes, this one's a Hufflepuff for sure!" His sister had told him as much, but Felix couldn't complain- he liked the idea of being a Hufflepuff!

☆ Felix is a Muggleborn, so he takes in every step of starting school with wonder…though it is a bit overwhelming feeling like everyone’s speaking another language sometimes. But then again, magic candy! Brewing potions!

☆ Absolute wonder at Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology. Felix is so gentle and good with every living thing, they practically request he be the one to handle them and that makes his heart burst with joy and honor! He also loves Potions, thinking the idea is so classic and cool, plus despite what most students say it’s kind of relaxing to him.

☆ Transfiguration dropped lower on his list when they started using living subjects. Sure, the idea that anyone and anything can grow and change and exist in many forms is really inspiring, but those poor mice and birds!

☆ Slug Club inductee part two! Even though he’s a Muggleborn with no direct influence, Felix is such a good student and avid potioneer that he’s a shoo-in. He also plays Quidditch as Hufflepuff’s Seeker.

☆ Felix isn’t sure what animal he’ll get, but he certainly isn’t expecting multiple! The entire class is shocked when a whole brood of chicks tumbles forth from his wand, eliciting shock and charmed coos alike.

Seungmin

☆ "This one's a bit of a surprise now," the Hat commented upon being set atop Seungmin's head. Seungmin couldn't help wondering what that meant and if it was bad, how to prove the Hat wrong. "No, lad, all you just did was prove my point. Looks can be deceiving, after all. Slytherin!" He wasn't sure what he expected, but that might not have been it. Sort of made sense, though- he could have fun with that!

☆ He can’t help wondering if the Hat chose as it did because he’s a Pure-Blood, taking Salazar’s old favors into account. Then again, he did just throw a cheating Gryffindor under the bus in class…

☆ Thinking logically is no trouble for Seungmin, so Arithmancy isn’t a bad choice for him. Connecting relationships between numbers and their power just makes sense to him- eight is his lucky number, after all. He also frequents the Potions dungeon, but that’s mostly just to brew the photo solution that grants his personal art projects motion!

☆ Defense Against the Dark Arts is a fun and active class, but it's boisterous and people take the duels too far sometimes.

☆ Frankly, he didn’t have time to join the Quidditch team due to his other extracurriculars, being an avid Frog Choir singer and the Hogwarts paper’s photographer.

☆ Everyone is sure the student everyone sees as a puppy will get a dog for his Patronus. Imagine their surprise when he casts a tanuki! Cute and cunning, no one can deny it matches him perfectly in the end.

I.N

☆ He forgot the Hat could read his thoughts. “So you want a house where you can show your talents and look out for people, huh?” Flushing, Jeongin just nods with a faint, bashful smile. “Well, better be Gryffindor, then!” He’s surprised, thinking maybe he’d have gotten Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff- he isn’t particularly brave, is he? “Trust me, kid, you’ll find your way,” the Hat promises, and do its eyelike folds wink?

☆ As a Half-Blood, he has knowledge of the Wizarding World, but also life outside of magic. Having one Muggle parent means one person getting yanked into the world of wonder, after all! Jeongin is proud to understand both sides of his world and guide his friends on how Muggles really live.

☆ Details don’t escape Jeongin, so he loves drawing star charts for Astronomy. Transfiguration is another favorite of his for similar reasons: he enjoys the focus, the idea that he can reshape objects into something greater or something new. It feels symbolic, poetic.

☆ Potions stresses him out because it's so easy to burn things or measure wrong; even if little details usually fascinate him, he can be a bit clumsy with the required finesse.

☆ Joins the wizard chess club, art club, and plays Quidditch- what can’t our baby bread do? Jeongin becomes Gryffindor’s Seeker, one especially known for turning the tides of the game for his team completely!

☆ He can barely contain his excitement that day in Defense Against the Dark Arts when it comes time to cast Patronus charms! He wonders if his animal will look like him and he certainly gets his wish when a charming little desert fox pops forth.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han #felix #seungmin #i.n #hogwarts au #stray kids hogwarts au #ask #anon #requested

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horseshoegirl · 9 months

Text

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 18 - Sapling

📖 This is it - The one song that inspired this entire fic. It’s so bittersweet I’ve gotten to this point. When I posted Part 1: Be Still, a small part of me thought I’d never get here.

I know everyone is probably sick of me saying thank you, but I honestly cannot stop. I could have never imagined the support or the amount of people who’ve loved this story as much as I’ve loved writing it. Whether you’ve been here since I posted all those months ago or just started reading, I cannot describe how important each and every one of you is to me.

Here’s Part 18: Sapling - The one I’ve been waiting for 💛

(If there was ever a song to listen to for this story, even though I know most of you guys don't, this one is it. I hope you do💛) . It's Liz through and through/and the one after this one, but more on that later.)

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, sexual themes, angst, fluff, deployments, apologies, and mentions of shitty family dynamics.

# 5k words

Part 17 | Masterlist | Part 19

"Attention on Deck!"

Jake and Bradley stood in sync in the empty hanger, the sound of metal chairs scraping across the hard stone floor. Much like the day they were called in for the Uranium run, the space had been turned into a mock classroom. Only two desks sat before the podium this time, and Jake and Bradley were the only ones who had been requested to report.

Jake kept his eyes forward as two pairs of footsteps echoed off the hangar floor behind him. Cyclone appeared in the corner of his eye, the man holding two manila envelopes and a thick black binder. He wondered what awaited him or Rooster in those files. While Maverick had torn them apart for the dramatic display, he wouldn't be surprised if Cyclone suddenly decided that wasn't enough.

But Jake could only think it made sense the patterns and exercises they had been flying for the past week were in preparation for something greater.

At least, he hoped they weren't getting kicked out.

But as Cyclone each tossed a folder in front of him and Bradley, Maverick trailing close behind indicated it had to be something worse. Even with his eyes facing forward, Jake could catch the look on the Captain's face out of the corner of his eye.

Worried and apprehensive.

Jake had an answer to his question. It wasn't a reprimand from his and Bradley's dangerous flying from the week previous.

This was a special deployment.

Cyclone stepped up onto the podium, not once lifting his eyes as he dropped the binder down to the wooden surface, stating, "You may be seated."

Jake and Bradley did as they were told, instantly reaching for the papers in front of them.

"Good afternoon." Cyclone finally looked up and nodded to the pair. "Intelligence has gotten word of another illegal facility violating United Nation’s Peace Treaty accords. The flight tests you and your team have been flying these past weeks were a simulation of the area we expect to the best of our intelligence."

Most of what Cyclone was saying flew over Jake’s head. Not after Cyclone explained the stakes. Not after Jake started to read the mission report. Next-generation fighter jets. In enemy hands. And they wanted an air assist while they went after the factory responsible for making them.

Even if he believed he was the best, there was too much at stake for him to say he could make it out of there unscathed confidently.

This was the literal fucking definition of a suicide run.

Rooster suddenly pipped up from beside him as Cyclone paused. "Has the rest of the Squad been briefed, sir?"

Cyclone started him down, his face emotionless. "You misunderstand me, son."

Maverick bowed his head as Cyclone continued, "Only the both of you are going. This is a two-person run."

Bradley side-eyed Jake, who leaned forward slightly to gauge his reaction. All Jake could do was draw in a sharp breath.

"Take it for what you will, gentlemen. Looks like the Navy was impressed with your reckless display and wanted to award your bad behaviour," he remarked, turning the pages of the files before him.

"Now, the factory will be taken care of by ground forces. The technology and the data within the facility are too valuable to be destroyed. We need two F-18s to assist..."

Jake began to drown him out, despite his instincts telling him otherwise. Cyclone explaining everything to them was only a formality, a chance for them to ask questions. Jake didn't need to. Everything he needed to know would be in the brief.

Time.

That's what was on Jake's mind.

How much time did he have left?

How much time did he have left to make it right?

How much did he have left to give to you? And make it up to Sadie?

He jolted slightly when Cyclone hit the edge of his binder against the edge of the podium.

"Get your affairs in order," the older man commanded, walking away. "You have till 22:00 today."

---

The thick fog settling over your neighbourhood this late at night wasn't helping your current mood. You were extremely uncomfortable at the errieness, the dimly lit street lamps casting an unreal green glow. You couldn't even see beyond the neighbours' backyard from your kitchen window.

The rest of the house was silent, too. The lack of noise indicated the place was empty, except for the occasional creek or rustle of a tree branch against the roof. You were utterly alone, with nothing but your thoughts as company.

You wish you could say it was a welcome notion.

With everything that had happened the night Tyler was arrested, Penny closed The Hard Deck for the week, waiting for the insurance money to come through. The damage wasn't as bad as it could have been, and she didn't really need to close it down, but in a way, you realized she was probably using the chance to take a break.

Or at least try to give you one.

So, she decided to go sailing. That's where Sadie was, sleeping over at her place so they could go out on the water tomorrow. Penny had offered to take you as well.

You had refused.

It was funny to think you suddenly needed to process what had happened - you had never been good at processing shit before, so why would this time change that now?

Maybe you just wanted to be alone.

Even the cup of tea you made wasn't helping, having long since gone cold and still practically full. You didn't know what to think, finally alone for the first time in a while, finally finding the opportunity to allow yourself to sit and process.

And you still couldn't bring yourself to do it.

It wasn't as if you didn't know what you should be thinking about. You were thinking about all of it... Tyler, Sadie, Jake... and..

No, not that one yet.

Each thought was laid out in your head like an itemized list, neatly written and bullet-pointed. Each stood out on their own, colour-coded and organized into categories to the point you couldn't do anything more with them. Picturing each in your mind was easy, but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything beyond that.

Something was stopping you from going deeper. Maybe you didn’t want to admit you didn’t know how.

A hard couple of knocks on your front door startled you out of your trance, echoing through the quiet house. It took you a moment to acknowledge them and realize they were, in fact, coming from your front door. You placed your mug on your kitchen table, scraping your chair along the title as you made your way to the front hallway.

It wasn’t quick enough for the person on the other side of the door, impatiently knocking their knuckles against the wood in rapid succession again. The sound quickened your pace, socked feet on the coarse rug thumping with each step.

In retaliation to the urgent knocks, you ripped the door open in an aggressive pull, only to find Jake hunched over, forearm resting on your doorframe. His head was bowed, handing low between his shoulders until he realized you had finally opened the door. Lifting his head, several emotions flashed across his face. Hope. Despair. Then, determination, with wide and wild eyes staring back at you.

You realized he was dressed in his flight suit, his hair was flicked back, and his face looked like it had been freshly shaven.

And he was panting like he had run a marathon.

“Jake?”

"I thought we would have more time," he heaved roughly. "I thought we had all the time in the world to figure this out. For me to find a million different ways to say I'm sorry for what I said. For what I did."

The corners of your mouth quivered, and your eyebrows furrowed, knitting together.

"No matter the length of time, I never would have gotten it right. Because there is no right way to apologize for what I said,” he lamented.

He opened his mouth to say something else but froze, the words dying in his throat like he suddenly lost whatever drive he had while coming here. Pushing himself off the frame, he turned towards your driveway, looking lost. With his back facing you, he reached for the bannister of your front porch, leaning over and bowing his head between shoulders.

You didn't know what else to do except remain frozen in your doorway, watching him look utterly defeated.

“Rooster and I got called up. It’s dangerous. Extremely dangerous,” he said, his voice low. “I might be the best, but even this one worries me.”

Whatever feelings of anger or resentment you had been carrying towards Jake were suddenly overpowered by concern.

Despite knowing you would never be privy to the details of the Navy, you found yourself stepping forward, a hand reaching out as you asked, “How dangerous?!”

You stopped yourself from touching his shoulder when he lifted his head, a sad smile on his face as he looked out to your yard. “You know we can’t tell you more than that, Darlin’.”

You crossed your arms below your breasts instead, gripping your elbows with a hint of apprehension as you gulped. “Do you know how long?”

He dropped his head again, shaking it while doing so. “At least a month, maybe two.”

A month, even two, was too long. Not when… You didn’t even know. You didn’t even know what to say or to do. Because Jake had hurt you, had protected you, and then shown up on your literal doorstep late at night before another deployment to leave all his cards on the table.

Sarcasm, sass, or any attitude or brave face you've ever used from behind that fucking bar couldn't save you from this. Not when Jake was facing yet another death sentence.

That fact alone made your heart break just a little bit further.

“George called me,” he told you, filling the silence. “Said the first thing he did was kick the hell bringer off the ranch. I didn’t trust him. But then Janet called, saying his name was on the deed for some tax reasons, so George had every right.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you joined him, coming to stand next to him and gripping the front railing tight. It almost hurt - the way the wood felt under your nails.

"I never expected that. I never expected George to seek me out after what I did to him either. I honestly thought he'd report home, saying the damage had been done," Jake sighed, rocking his shoulders back and forth. "But he did. And the first thing he did was admit he was scared of you."

You dropped your chin to your chest. You couldn’t deny that maybe a little bit of shame was starting to eat away at your stomach. Yelling at George was more than just you being upset at both Seresin brothers. It was a deep-seated weight you had been carrying for too long, waiting for any moment it could unleash itself. George and Jake… had been the perfect excuse to scapegoat the underlying issue you refused to acknowledge in yourself.

Jake straightened himself, turning to face you with a bated breath. You spun with him, leaving your one hand on the railing.

"He told me the reason he wanted to change was not that I had shown him up at darts or that you had torn him apart with your words, but that either one of us should’ve to begin with. You made him realize that.”

You failed to notice Jake’s hand slowly sliding along the bannister, inching closer to yours.

"My relationship with him is anything but fixed. He is more of an asshole than I could ever be. But when I told him he needed to live his own life, he said he couldn’t claim anything he had earned for himself without the hell-bringer handing it to him. Or say he did it with good intentions.”

It wasn’t a shock when Jake slid his hand over the top of yours, gently curving his fingers around your wrist. In fact, you let him, allowing him to pull you towards him as he stepped closer gently.

“But he also said he found you on the beach the night Tyler stormed the bar.”

You failed to hide your grimace at the mention of Tyler’s name, and Jake offered a sad smile. “He said he tried to make things right. Because after I quoted a dead president, he took what you said to him to heart..”

You swallowed hard, knowing just exactly what George had been referring to. It was the same point you made when you yelled at him, the words echoing in your head.

‘So you can gallivant around letting someone who has lived their life decide what you do with the rest of yours?’

And when you asked point blank on the beach the last time, he had been happy. Which was when he did something for himself.

"He's never thought highly of me, but he said meeting you and Sadie was the best damn thing I could have ever done." Jake reached for your other hand, looking down. "Because my arena has two people willing to be in it with me, no matter what I've done."

“I’ve always loved that quote,” you laughed quietly to yourself, trying to avert your eyes.

“I know,” he replied sadly. “It was in a worn book on your bookcase.”

You lift your head, finally allowing yourself to stare into his eyes. It pains you to think you had forgotten how green they were. And how easy it was to get lost in them when so much happened between you.

"I should have let you explain yourself that day."

Jake huffed a small laugh, reaching up to stroke a piece of hair away from your face. “I shouldn’t have said those words to begin with. And not that it’s worth anything, I’m so sorry they did.”

Jake doesn't drop his hand but rather cups the side of your face.

"But you deserve more than an apology on the eve of a deployment. It's not fair to you. But I have to try because there is a chance I might not be able to. Because I'm trying to listen to the advice of a ten-year-old girl who once said she believed in me.

The admission guts you. Sadie’s impact on the world and those around you would always gut you.

“So let me be honest with you now before I don’t have the chance to,” He urged, his thumb caressing under your eye and across your cheek. "I'm in love with you, Elizabeth Beck."

A strangled sob tore from your throat, attempting to pull your hand out of Jake's and your face away from his touch. He was quicker, tugging you forward into his chest with a hand on the back of your neck. You were too weak to protest, allowing yourself to be pulled towards him.

"No, you're not running from this, darlin'," he shushed you, both arms encasing themselves around your waist, preventing you from escaping. "Not this time."

You couldn't do anything but cup your face in your hands, pressing yourself against his chest and sobbing. Tilting his head down, he whispered gently against your ear, "I'm not saying it to hear it back. I'm telling you so you never doubt that I do."

Strange enough, you didn’t doubt him. Not ever - even when he had hurt you.

He kissed your collarbone once through the thick fabric of your sweater, feeling as if he had touched your bare skin. He took a deep breath under your hands, body heaving up once as he gathered the courage to continue.

“Darlin,” he whispered. “ I know I can’t ask this of you, but I can only hope you love me back. Even after… Because I know how badly I fucked up. For a split second, back at the Hard Deck, I thought you would be better off without me."

"You hurt me, Jake," you cried into his chest. "You said those things..."

"I know, darlin'," his voice sounded broken next to your ear. "I went for the things I knew you'd leave me for, not because I believed them. Just the opposite. You didn't need me in your life, in Sadie's life, when I have so much baggage following me around. You didn't need another pair of assholes tainting your life, whether it be George, the hell bringer, or myself."

You gripped his flight suit tight at his confession.

"Then Sadie cornered me on the beach. And told me to get my shit together or not bother coming around anymore. Because you two would be just fine without me," he sniffed. "And it fucking hurt coming from her."

"Oh, Bug," you coo. You're not mad at her for going against your rule.

“I can’t promise I’m not going to fuck it up again. I’m the furthest thing from perfect compared to everyone I know. But I promise, I won't stop trying to get it right or at least stop at how many times I have to apologize to you for being me.”

You hate him. You hate him.

Except you don’t.

“I brought you your favourite flowers the first time I apologized because I couldn’t offer anything else. And I cannot bring you flowers when I’m apologizing for a second time, not because tulips are currently out of season, but because a man shouldn’t do that when apologizing to the woman he loves.”

He let go of your hip to stroke a piece of your hair behind your ear before pressing his lips to your forehead, letting them rest there for a moment.

“I should give them to you just because I can,” he murmured against your skin.

As Jake pulled back from you, he reached down to the side pocket of his flight suit against his thigh, his hand a firm fist as he pulled out something attached to a balled chain.

“So, I can’t ask you to forgive me, Elizabeth. Or even to wait for me. I don’t know what will happen when I am gone. Or if I’m worth accepting an apology from.”

He grabbed your wrist gently, pulling it up between the two of you, only to press something metal into your hand. But rather than let go, he threaded his fingers through yours, keeping the object between the palms of your hands, the chain dangling between.

“But if you can still find it in your heart to trust me, trust me when I say I want you and Sadie in my life. It’s you two or nothing at all,” he croaked, before adding, “I broke my ways for a literature-loving bartender and her ten-year-old niece because they both chose me knowing I am probably the most flawed human being, besides that asshole, ever to grace their path.”

You sobbed at that.

“If I make it back…” he trailed off. You shook your head vehemently. “When you make it back…” You corrected him. Yet, a small part of you died inside when he gave you a hesitant, bittersweet smile.

“I want you to tell me your answer then.”

Jake let go of your hand, leaving behind and revealing a pair of worn dog tags, making you gasp.

“I want these to stay with you until then. So you know I’m with you. Always.”

"Jake.. I can't.." you stuttered.

He ignored you, grabbing them from your hand to grab the chain in both hands. “They’re my first pair. My current set is in my bag.”

Watching him lift and guide the chain over your head, the protest dies on your lips. The intimate act brought him close enough to feel his breath on your face. The weight of the dog tags was a new feeling on your sternum.

"You know, in basic, they scare the hell out of you with these," he said, grabbing one of them and holding it between you. "Tell you that if you crash and burn, these are the bits they use to ID whatever's left."

He glanced away, eyes briefly distant. "They find you, leave one tag, take the other." He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Guess it's also their way of grounding you, reminding you of what’s at stake."

You stared at the tags between the two of you, gulping hard.

"For me, giving you them is... it's not just some sentimental crap. It's me leaving a bit of myself with you, no matter what happens."

Your breath hitched, and as he dropped the tag, a new weight was placed on your chest. The fog around you seemed to grow thicker, and if you didn't know any better, you would have blamed it for constricting your breath.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "Jake, I... I haven't... I haven't fully dealt with losing her," you whispered, trembling.

"I know you haven't, darlin'," he mumbled, wiping away another stream of tears on your face. "And I'm only adding another burden to your plate."

Jake leaned forward to press another kiss to your forehead before peering down at your face, taking in the sheer devastation. He caressed your bottom lip, huffing affectionately, “I guess it's only fair. I broke your heart. You need to break mine, too.”

“Jake…”

As you reached out, your voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Your hands moved around to his back, sliding up against his shoulder blades. He was tall and broad. And as you tried to pull him into you, your arms didn't stretch enough. You wanted to hold to so many parts of him, latch on in hopes he wouldn't leave you so soon.

You don't know how long you stood like this, on your porch in the fog, holding on to each other. It took you a while, but you eventually realized the two of you started to sway in a silent rhythm, back and forth gently.

The action was so reminiscent of the night he drove you home. When he found you closing by yourself and swept you into his arms - before everything became so chaotic.

It makes you look back on every memory with him, like a film reel in vivid technicolour.

Water and Sand, a Mona Lisa smile. Math homework and Sadie's cheeky smile. Yellow flowers in apologetic hands. Dirty dishes and clean slates. A game of darts and an almost kiss. Walking next to mountains and trees. Poloarids, video chats, and scary moments. Fireworks on New Year's Eve, to a slow dance in safe arms.

Thunderstorms and Sadie's tears to passionate kisses. First dates, Ferris wheels, Sadie in the hospital, and Jake catching your tears. Bradley lashing out, and Jake standing by.

Purple blues and orange-reds, the sunset colours that made you cry for your sister for the first time since you don't remember when.

Looking back on what was leaves you wondering what will be.

Jake's voice cuts through the silence, faintly humming a Chris Stapleton song. Your voice is muffled against his chest. "I wanted to take you to a country concert for a date."

You felt him smile against the top of your head. "Would you have let me pick you up and put you on my shoulders?"

You huffed affectionately into the fabric of his suit, turning your head to rest your cheek against his chest. “Oh, people would have hated us for that.”

He laughs quietly. “I’m sure you would have come up with something sharp and witty to reply with.”

“Enough to get us thrown out?”

“I could always pull the military service card.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Jake chuckled softly into your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, swaying on your front porch under the green-lit fog. Not that you would have noticed. You were too busy trying to imprint this into your memory. How he felt holding you, how he smelled, the sensations in your chest. Or how his heart felt beating under your ear.

Until the alarm on his watch ruined it all, and he stepped away from you, pressing another long kiss to your forehead. You felt him grimace each time he tried to pull away.

"I have to go, darlin'," he murmured. "I have to report in 30. Otherwise, I'd drag you inside and abandon my post."

I would have let you.

As Jake lets you go, you reach out to grip the railing again. Before he turns to leave, he says with a smile, "Send me letters if you can."

Watching him proceeding down your front steps, your heart ached in a way it never had before. Your hand moved to the dog tags, gripping them tightly.

The idea of losing Jake, never seeing that cocky grin or hearing his sarcastic quips again, was paralyzing. But even more terrifying was the thought of him leaving without knowing how you truly felt.

If he were to... no.

You couldn't wait. You couldn't let him leave with things unsaid. The fog outside was thick, and Jake's form was about to become a silhouette in the distance, but you wouldn't let him leave without knowing.

"Jake!"

Running down the steps of your porch, you flung yourself towards him. He spun, eyes wide as you reached for his face, hands cradling either side of his jaw as you pulled him down, pressing your lips to his.

You put everything into that kiss, struggling to breathe, fearing you would lose him before you could ever truly be with him. Jake wrapped his arms around your waist, moulding his lips to yours. And with each press, you commit them to memory, pushing away the thought this may be the last time you could.

You were already struggling to grasp the death of someone you loved. You couldn't survive a second.

Jake always kissed you like he was a man starved of affection. This time, he was holding himself back, hands deliberately resting lightly on your hips, unmoving and researching. His kisses were less than firm, hesitant against your more urgent ones.

It gave you the strength to continue pressing on.

You pulled back with a gasp, looking him square in the eyes. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to tell me you love me and expect me not to say anything. Not to call you out for your shitty perception of yourself when you, Jake fucking Seresin, are worth it."

You can feel the heat on your cheeks and more tears running freely down the sides of your face.

"I do forgive you,“ you rushed out in a breath. “I forgive you for all your faults and everything you will ever do to me, whether you are Jake Seresin or fucking Hangman. Life is short, and... and.. if I woke one morning to find you were gone, I would never find the strength to carry on had you not known that I lo.."

Jake didn't let you finish, quickly grabbing the sides of your face to kiss you roughly, all open mouth and tongue. You whimpered into his mouth, struggling to breathe and to keep up with the onslaught.

He bent you backwards, your back curling around the sudden added weight of his arm. You tugged on his flight suit in a desperate attempt to pull him closer to you as he attacked your mouth. His fingers were locked deeply into the roots of your hair behind your ear, angling your head just right so he could capture your lips in all the ways he wanted to. In all the ways he might never have the chance to do again.

Jake considered himself selfish. For most of his naval career, he had been selfish. But he never truly felt the weight of that feeling until he was trying to memorize these last moments with you. As if this was all he would ever get to have with you.

It was selfish to do this to you. To kiss you one last time.

Your body is warm under his touch. He tries to imprint the sensation.

Your kisses are firm. He tries to akin the taste.

Your grip on his suit is tight. He tries to remember the pain it creates.

Your whimpers and moans. He tries to imagine they’d be exactly what you’d sound like if he’d ever get the chance to be with you. Truly.

Or if they’d be enough to sustain his dreams.

He knows he needs to go. Needs to pull himself away from you before the next kiss, or the next touch is the one that convinces him to stay. So he tugs away first, and you chase his lips, whining at the loss of contact.

"Tell the bug she was right," it's a whisper against your lips. "And I'm sorry I disappointed her too."

Your bottom lip quivered as Jake finally wrenched himself away from you with a deep grunt. He climbed into his truck and started the engine, backing out of your driveway like a man possessed. As if one slight moment of hesitation or if he looked away from the task at hand and saw your face, he’d drag you back inside the house and lock the two of you away in your bedroom.

He would have if there were more time.

Your footsteps against the pavement were muffled in your ears as you followed his truck. You couldn't bring yourself to look away, even when you found yourself frozen at the end of your driveway, watching his red taillights fade into the fog.

And when you finally found the courage to move, absentmindedly walking back up your driveway, up your front steps to close the front door behind you, you fell against it. Your back pressed hard into the grooves and ridges as you collapsed to the floor. Your tears were falling freely, and the sobs racking your chest were each more devastating than the last. You heaved for each breath, trying to gather the strength to do anything but cry.

For Jake.

For Bradley.

For Sadie.

For Ridley.

...For yourself.

After working the heels of your hands into the corners of your eyes, you grasped for the dog tags, looking down at the worn-out pieces of metal in your palm. You could still make out his name and call sign imprinted on the surface, a finger tracing over the imprinted ridge.

The damn things were both a reminder he was still out there and could never return. A reminder he couldn’t promise more sunsets with you. A reminder there was a chance you'd never get to tell him you loved him, too.

You pressed your fingers to your lips, the other clutching his dog tags over your heart.

Come back to us, Jake.

Please.

Tag List:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy@memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

Part 19 - An Evening I Will Not Forget is being edited 👀

Wickett ;)

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hoothalcyon · 1 month

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Ruthari + Nonsexual Kink

After reading this post by vaspider about nonsexual kink in a romantic dynamic, the wheels of my brain began to turn before finally landing on Ruthari, and not only Ruthari, but the fact that they already demonstrate some signs of nonsexual kink in their relationship.

note: I don't think they were intentionally written this way, I'm just having fun :)

The most easily noticeable instances take place in the graphic novel Bloodmoon Huntress, but it also represents their entire dynamic as a couple, so I will go through both.

Firstly, it's easy to see how well this dynamic would fit the both of them. Runaan has an incredibly stressful life or death job where he has to take the lead and do very difficult, fatal things. He can maintain this pressure for the amount of time needed for the mission to be completed, but he can't carry that weight forever, everyday. It's been said that he is the most emotionally open he possibly could be when he's with Ethari.

Which brings me to why it fits Ethari. He is a misfit in Moonshadow society, or at least in the Silvergrove. He's "not as strong as the others", he's a creator and inventor in a friend group full of assassins. I bet he would want to feel some control and power, even if only behind closed doors, but not so specific as to only in the bedroom. And what better way to feel control than consensually dominating the leader of the assassins, am I right?

In borrowing from the original post, I will highlight these key parts: "surrender[ing] control to someone whom they can trust...because in their everyday life, they have a lot of responsibilities and stress, and going into that space where nobody can ask anything from them, where they have no responsibility to make any decisions at all, is a relief to them."

And, vice versa, "for some of us, that kind of service allows us access to a feeling of power that can be hard to access in our daily life, and that feels really good."

So, now onto canon examples...

The way Runaan goes from lightly ribbing Ethari for his over the top welcoming party for Rayla before quickly changing his attitude when Ethari gets serious and says darling...

I'm 100% imagining that the use of "darling" with a serious demeanour is one way Ethari signals to Runaan that he needs him to behave/follow his lead without question 😈

2. The market scene where Runaan is all petty and acts up, causing dysfunction between him and Rayla. Ethari swiftly puts him in his place and Runaan doesn't challenge him. He knows he's overstepped, and his dom is putting him in his place. He literally shuts up and goes all doe eyed at him.

Ok, but consider that for a second. Runaan is singlehandedly the most stubborn character in the entire show, and yet, Ethari can boss him around with no questions asked. Kinky.

3. Ethari bringing Runaan his weapons. To me, this indicates, again, that they both enjoy when Ethari wields control over Runaan's actions. He is the stepping stone his sub needs to complete tasks, he needs Ethari's care and attention. Runaan could just grab his weapons himself and head out, but he waits until Ethari has prepared them, put them in a sack, and handed them to him with a kiss.

4. Ethari instantly getting authoritative and grumpy when Runaan is badly injured, and investigating with his hands before Runaan gently lets him down.

When Runaan is injured, all of Ethari's emotions come rushing to the surface: grumpiness, protectiveness, worry, affection, etc. All the ingredients that make him a good dom. He wants to protect Runaan from danger and angst. He feels helpless watching Runaan fling himself into battle, so the moment it stops, he rushes over to inspect him for injuries and tow him away somewhere safe. He is the caretaker. It's his responsibility to keep his sub safe and healthy, and he doesn't take that lightly.

But the fact that Runaan is insisting it's 'nothing' is frustrating. He needs Runaan's yellow light signals--the soft smile, holding his hand--and also Rayla distracting them, to help him cool off.

And so I'm picturing that when Runaan is injured, Ethari has him kneel (if he can), bow his horns, and take off any clothes that are covering the injury and reveal it to him before he can begin to tend to him. It's his act of submission, of showing Ethari he is ready to relinquish control to him.

And that type of dynamic, of Runaan admitting his vulnerabilities to Ethari, who will only use this information to help him heal, is immensely beneficial to them both. Runaan gets to vocalize where and how he feels wounded, and Ethari gets to have control over healing him and being the only one who knows about these wounds.

Other, smaller canon findings:

Runaan being covered in different things Ethari has made, which have his signature swirlies on them (i.e: his bow, hair cuffs, horn cuffs). Yes, the other members of the moon fam have smatterings of these on their bodies and weapons as well, but Runaan's design features them most frequently. He's literally COVERED in them. This is a visual representation of how he belongs to Ethari.

One major exception to this dynamic is when it comes to assassin stuff (unrelated to injuries).

The way Runaan doesn't mention it when Ethari stealthily steals a sip from his tea (nor when he mentions that said tea is bad, lmao).

Headcanons:

When Runaan comes back from a mission and doesn't know what to do with himself, Ethari tells him different things he can do for him, and that helps put him in the mindset of things different than constantly training, and reminds him that he wants quality time

slightly silly hc where Ethari in his workshop and he whistles for Runaan to come down and Runaan is there in a flash to model something for him or give input on a weapon lmao

#runaan #ethari #ruthari #this is MY self indulgent headcanon UwU

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muddyorbsblr · 2 years

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the new sorcerer supreme pt1

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration See my full list of works here!

Requested by: @rmoonstoner

Summary: After the events of Endgame, Carol Danvers gave you a device to send a signal to virtually any and every known receiver in the galaxy. After three years of silence, the device finally beeped with a response.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of Thanos; mentions of major character deaths; grief; angst; derogatory use of the word 'whore'

Beep beep beep

Your spine immediately straightened at the foreign sound echoing around your otherwise silent apartment. You knew every single alarm from every device and appliance in this apartment, and that was definitely something new.

And there was only one device in here that had alarms you'd never heard.

Beep beep beep

Immediately you rushed to the case that housed the intergalactic-caliber paging device that Carol had given you after the final battle with Thanos, the very same one where you wielded a modified version of Loki's scepter that synthesized the powers of the mind stone. Enough to give you an advantage. Enough to make sure you held your own despite being a simple human among the admittedly more formidable allies that surrounded you.

Enough that you had the mad titan on his knees when you and Wanda tag teamed the son of a bitch for ripping out your hearts and crushing them. In your case literally.

Carol said that you could use the device to send out a signal to any receiver in the entire galaxy. She also said that if you were right, and the one you were looking for was truly out there, then you should send out something that only the two of you would know. So you sent out something you two would often say when the other got too lost in their thoughts: Come back to me.

And now that very same device was beeping for the first time in three years.

With shaking hands you opened the case, gently grasping the device and lifting it out, hope once again blooming in your heart that perhaps your days would no longer be lonely. For the first time since Thor pulled you aside after the Battle in Wakanda to inform you of your lover's fate, your future felt full of promise.

That optimism was quickly extinguished once you read the message that the device received. It wasn't the words that you were expecting, not by a long shot.

Found you. You will pay for what you and your friends did to our Master. Jotun's whore.

A chill ran down your spine, quickly spreading throughout your entire body, all the way to your fingertips. You quickly set down the device back in its case, rushing to your phone to reach out to someone you knew was likely the most capable one to help you in defending yourself against your incoming adversaries.

"Y/N?" he answered after two rings. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"Strange. I think I'm in trouble."

It didn't even take thirty seconds before a portal opened in the middle of your living room, and in walked Stephen Strange and Wong, looking ready to battle whoever they may encounter inside the apartment.

"There's no one here," you explained. "Not yet, anyway." You motioned toward your couch. "Why don't you two sit down and I'll explain what I've been up to the last three years that got me into this mess."

When you'd finished telling them about the device and the signal you sent out, Stephen spoke first. "Y/N, I know this will be hard to hear, but Loki's dead. He's been dead for eight years now. If he really was out there, don't you think he would've answered your page already?"

You sighed. "I know. It's probably stupid to even keep the damn thing here, basically giving those cultists of Thanos a homing beacon to latch on to. A big intergalactic red neon sign saying 'she's here!'"

"But how do you know that these are followers of the mad titan?" Wong inquired.

You took a deep breath before you spoke. "When we fought Thanos three years ago, the henchmen that I was able to put down…They all called me 'the whore of Jotunheim's King'. The less wordy ones called me 'Jotun's whore'. So while I can't be completely sure, because who knows these space alien folk might be the type to share hot goss around the galaxy and somehow that became my galactic nickname? But I can make a pretty good inference that these are followers of Thanos that somehow got overlooked by Stark's Snap."

"Y/N you have to get rid of the device. You're leading them straight to you," Strange instructed, a look of concern evident on his face.

"I can't, Stephen."

"Why not?!"

"Because if I do, that means it's over!" you snapped, tears brimming in your eyes as you said the words. "If I get rid of it, it means that I'm letting him go. I bury any hope in my heart that he's somewhere out there, and maybe it's just taking longer for my message to be received. I get rid of the device, it means that I've accepted that the rest of my life will be desolate and cold. I can't accept that, and you of all people should understand."

Strange put his head in his hand, rubbing his brows in visible frustration, but ultimately relenting. "You're right. I'm sorry. But that device is still going to lead them right to you. I can think of one possible spell that could deflect their perception of you and the device, but it's beyond either of our powers. All I can do is maybe do a spell that could give you some enhanced abilities that could help you defend yourself. Basically as if you're getting my powers. On a loan."

"That's…that's really generous of you, but I'm curious. Aren't you two supposed to be like some of the most powerful individuals this side of the universe or something?"

"Yes, that is true. But to perform the spell that Strange mentioned? This might be beyond our powers, Y/N. You will need to consult with the Sorcerer Supreme."

Wong's response had you taken aback. "But I thought that…one of you was the Sorcerer Supreme?" you asked, pointing your finger at them.

"Not anymore. About a year ago, I woke up and the augmented powers I received from being declared Sorcerer Supreme were gone. There's a new one, and whoever it is, they're not in any of the sanctums around the world. They're not in Kamar Taj, either. They're going through great lengths to stay hidden, keep their identity a secret," Strange explained. "Now, I can't tell you who it is. I'm sorry. It's beyond me. But I can at least tell you where you can start looking."

You nodded eagerly, ready to find whoever this was, and get their help beating the asses of whoever was coming for you. For giving you hope even for a sliver of a moment that maybe the love of your life could still be out there, trying to find a way back home. "I'm ready. I'll go anywhere."

"New Asgard."

Well…at least you'd be able to check in on an old friend while you were looking for this new Sorcerer Supreme. "Alright…" You looked between the two sorcerers. "Any chance you could conjure me up a portal there?"

You watched as a fond smile graced Stephen's face. "Of course. Just one more thing. Gimme your arm." You held out your arm and he clasped one hand over it, chanting a quick spell. When he released you, there was a rune marking your skin. "In case you need to defend yourself. But remember. It's just a loan."

"Lady Y/N!" Thor boomed from the New Asgard Hall that now served as his kind of 'throne room'. It was a far cry from the gilded glamour of the realm of Asgard, the home he and the rest of the citizens here had lost from invoking Ragnarok in the hopes of thwarting his bloodthirsty war freak of a sister, but you could feel the community among them.

"Hey, Thunder," you greeted as he rushed over to you, wrapping you in a warm embrace. "Place looks great." When he pulled away, you put a firm hand on his shoulder, tears brimming in your eyes as you said, "I'm sorry about Jane. I should've called, I should've been there for you."

"No, my friend. You have no such obligations to me. And I was destined to face it alone—"

"Don't say that," you croaked. "Nobody should have to face that alone. You were there for me when—" Your words caught in your mouth, refusing to be uttered. "You were there for me eight years ago. I should have been here for you. Reached out. I'm sorry."

He placed his hand over yours, giving it a quick squeeze. "I would never dare hold that against you, Lady Y/N. Nor would I dare wish to have you here and witness another losing the one they love most across the Nine Realms. You are my friend, that is true. But I am also yours. And truly all I feel is a somber relief and contentment, knowing that even now…even after all this time, my brother has someone who still loves him as fiercely as you do."

"That's…kind of why I'm here…" He furrowed his eyebrows at you. "Thor, I'm in deep shit."

"What troubles you, my friend? I can assure you what ever it may be, you will not be facing this alone." He led you over to a couch where you could sit and explain your current predicament.

And so you explained to him. About the device and about how you refused to give up hope that maybe somewhere in the vast universe, Loki was still out there. Trying to find his way back home. That you were simply giving him a pin in the map, so he didn't have to do so unguided. When you finished you could see that the blond Asgardian was on the brink of tears again before he pulled you into another embrace.

"I care not that you were unable to marry. In my heart, you are my sister. You are my family." The tears fell from your eyes at his words. "So Strange is certain that this new Sorcerer Supreme is somewhere within New Asgard?"

"He said this was the last place that he and Wong could sense their power. I just want to spend a few days, take a look around, see if I could find them. Or at least my next clue on where to look. If it's alright with you."

"It is more than alright. New Asgard would be more than happy to host you. Assist you in whatever it is you may need. We can start with your lodging." He walked over to his desk and opened the top drawer, a sentimental look crossing his features as he took out a set of keys from inside. "Come, Sister. Let me show you to your home, at least for the next few days."

You stood from the couch, confusion rife on your face as you eyed him. "Did you know that I was coming? I mean…you have a place ready, so…did you just have that lying around, or…?"

A rueful smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "In truth, Lady Y/N, perhaps I was hoping that my brother was still alive, too. Trying to find his way home. That house had been allocated for you and Loki to build a home together if ever the fates were kind and brought him back to us."

You could feel your heart cracking again at Thor's words. At the knowledge that he'd been holding on just as much as you were. Sure, he didn't endanger anyone in the process from sending out an intergalactic pin on the map that how had some alien fanatics on their way to merrily destroy you and everyone you loved. No, nothing that reckless, thankfully.

He simply gave you a place to call home on the off chance that Loki did find his way back.

The two of you walked to a house not too far from Thor's place, making a tender smile break out on your face at the realization that in his optimistic vision he had in his head, he wanted to keep you as close to him as possible. The smile broke out into an amused grin as you tried to imagine the initial protest from his brother as he realized the proximity between your places.

"You would have made it such a beautiful home, Sister," the god of thunder said as he opened the door to the two-story cottage-style home, the alarm on his face evidence when he saw how, despite the sunlight on the outside, the house had been shrouded in darkness. A quick look around showed you both that there were no curtains installed; after all, nobody should be living in this house, according to what the god told you.

He was about to walk in when you held out your hand to stop him. "Let me." You showed him the rune on your arm. "I have some powers. Courtesy of Strange. On loan. But it lets me sense if there are other wielders of magic around. I just gotta figure out how Stephen does this…" You tapped your wrists together twice and pulled back an arm as if you were wielding two shields, astonished when your arms lit aglow with celestial looking shields made of pure light energy.

"That…is cool," the blond god commented, pointing at your light shields. "Do you sense anything?"

You concentrated on the presence that you initially felt when the door opened; it felt as if they were making a considerable effort to deflect anyone's attention if ever they were to come across this house. Their power. "It's faint," you answered him. "Like they're trying to muddle their presence to us somehow, make us divert our attention elsewhere." You took a breath, deciding to attempt communicating with whoever was hiding out in this house. Your house. "Hello?" you called out into the deceptively empty and quiet space.

There was no answer.

"We mean you no harm," you said loudly into the emptiness. "Perhaps…if we tell you our names, you'll come out? See that we are people of our word. We're not here to hurt you. We're friends."

There was a slight bristle in the presence, a single brush against your shoulder. As if the person inside the house was trying to communicate with you.

"Okay…my—my name is Y/N. I'm…well, I'm nothing special, really. But I work with some really extraordinary people and we collectively save the world from threats, within this planet and beyond. Mad tyrants, aliens--" Your voice choked as you said the final word, "Titans." You felt Thor's hand grasp your shoulder in support as you said it. "I-I'm here with one of those extraordinary people right now. Thor. Son of Odin. God of Thunder. King of New Asgard—"

"Actually, Sister, I'm no longer King. I bequeathed that title to Val," he corrected your introduction to the unknown presence.

"O-Oh. Okay. So he's not King of New Asgard anymore, apparently, but he is still the God of Thunder. That's pretty cool," you rambled, causing him to chuckle beside you. "Anyway, all this to say, we're not here to hurt you. And I promise. If you show yourself? We'll do what we can to help you. I understand having to hide for either your own safety or for the safety of others, I do. But this house you're using for sanctuary…it's mine. Well, kind of. It's a long story. But the important part is, I swear to you, if you come out, we won't leave you to fend for yourself. We'll help you. As best we can."

You felt another brush across your body, this time almost feeling like a person wrapping their arms around you in a tentative embrace. And then a door opened by the dining area…to where you presumed would have been a study, if you'd actually had the chance to turn this into your home with Loki.

Shields still up, you cautiously made your way toward the now open room, Thor following close behind as he summoned Stormbreaker by his side, the battle axe quietly sliding into the home and following the god's steps. When you got close enough, you saw that the threshold to the room was aglow with green magic. A familiar green magic.

"Thor, why does this glow look like Loki's magic?" you asked, voice shaking.

"There could exist other wielders of magic that possess a level of power similar to my brother," he answered softly. "But those would be very few and far in between. If they exist at all."

As you both cautiously entered the small room, you were greeted by a space glowing with the same green energy as its threshold. You spotted a shadowed figure at the end, floating midair and radiating such a powerful aura there was no doubt in your mind that you'd found the new Sorcerer Supreme.

There was a condition to the powers you loaned from Strange. They would fade as soon as you were definitively safe from immediate danger; you then found it peculiar that the shields you had up had not yet faltered in their vibrance despite being in the presence of the very individual you'd gone to New Asgard to seek their aid.

The sorcerer set themself on their feet, standing to their full height, shoulders squared, and taking on a silhouette that you were all too familiar with.

Heart lodged in your throat, you called out softly towards them. "Loki?"

The silence was deafening as your question hung in the air, waiting for the silhouette to respond. But then they did. Hedid. The answer to the signal you sent out into the galaxy that brought you here in the first place. Come back to me.

"There you are, my darling."

Your shields dropped.

A/N: Aaaaah I've finally started on requests! Just a quick heads up that I will be working on requests alongside 'relinquish the crown' and 'man of the month', so the going will be slow, but it will be going 👍 And also yes you read the title right. "pt1". There will be a Part 2, and our reunited lovebirds will have a lot to talk about 🥲

Taglist:

Everything taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley

Loki taglist: @calumance @severuslovebot @moonlightreader649

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #muddyorbs writes #fic requests

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dollypopup · 2 months

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So, I wasn't gonna post anything about this, honestly, but because I was directly asked, here's my 2 cents!

First, I want to thank you for saying you trust me with this! I'm also on the ace-spectrum, and I'm a queer, bisexual woman, so I do have a lot of empathy with you and everyone else who was down for queer rep.

(Also, I do not have Anon turned on for my asks. I absolutely respect your privacy, but I've been harassed before, and if people want to come at me, they can do it with their whole chest. Similarly, if people want to come TO me, I'd love to be friends!) I want to start off with the fact that whilst I understand that you believe the article, I don't. Call it the skeptic in me, or my media literacy classes during my grad program or denial or what have you, but we live in a huge era of misinformation. A tabloid is not likely to be any kind of reliable source, and a random reddit user even less so. It's like making a balloon full of pudding and having a clown say it's helium. We're not going to know until the needle pops it. Surely, no one would ever lie on the internet.

That being said, as much as I yearned and wanted for Demi Colin to be confirmed, it's not set in stone, and so it couldn't have been taken away from us. Honestly, even being ace-spec, a lot of the HC of Demi!Colin started putting a bad taste in my mouth when I realized that a lot of this predominately cishet fandomw as doing it as a means of keeping Colin 'pure' for Penelope, and that struck me as incredibly acephobic. Sure, they were HCing him as one of us. . .but not because it fit with his character or provided a rich and interesting arc for him to explore, but more so that his identity was an extension of their hopes and wants for Penelope. It wasn't for him as a character, but for him as a prize. And that made me so very sad, so my dream of Demi!Colin died when I saw that happening so frequently. Us Demi and Ace folks deserved better than that, and we continue to.

Either way, I think you are absolutely allowed to feel your disappointment! This is a frustration safe zone! There was a lot of potential this season, especially for Colin, that I feel has been dropped. But even IF that article contains some truth (big, heavy IF). . .idk, I see it through the lens that lot of us Demi folks have had sex. Even no strings attached sex. I know I have. Was I disassociated from it for a lot of the time? Yeah. Was it satisfying? No. But did it happen? It did. I chose to take part in it, and they were experiences that helped me grow. And I am no less Demi for it! IF this article is true, instead of us freaking. . .I feel like it could tell us a lot about Colin's character.

He is a man who has had, largely, no good role models in his life. Not in this regard. Who does he have to guide him? Anthony? Literally said he should have taken Colin to brothels. Benedict? Hell, he had a threesome himself. Why wouldn't Colin be out here thinking 'This is what Men do, this is what my brothers do, why not?' Colin is young. He's 23 still trying to find himself. And the entire idea of 'oh, he's a nerd! no way he's had threesomes' lol, like nerds aren't kinky? Come on, I'm a nerd and I've done way more than people would assume I have. He was traveling for months, and I think this really isn't as huge a deal as we're making it out to be. I ship Polin exclusively, and I love the idea of them having their firsts together, but I'm also not angry otherwise. In my mind, he's still demi. Just like he'll always be ND, even if it isn't confirmed.

Sidenote, o want to touch on something that is somewhat unrelated to your post, but something I'm seeing a lot is the whole 'it's dehumanizing for him to watch two women!' or 'it's lesbian fetishization!'

from the very bottom of my heart, as a gay woman, people saying that can eat me. These are the same people who didn't care about any of our representation, before. They didn't care about having lesbian characters, didn't bring them up. Now that it affects their (largely) het pairing, and specifically Colin as a perfect prize in a pairing he has largely been denied a narrative within, we're talking pieces and pawns for their discontent? No, I refuse. There are legitimate criticisms that can and should take place about Bridgerton's lack of care toward wlw, and especially that our only representation may actually just be a lesbian performance for the sake of a threesome, but this is not a criticism on COLIN. It is a criticism on the PRODUCTION. Because if we had queer women in the series before, it wouldn't be an issue. However, I refuse to have my sexuality used as a 'ewwww gross! look what they're doing! isn't that soooo wrong?' gotcha moment by people who just don't like his character. If we're gonna have a conversation about it, we should have a conversation about it based purely on our actual desire to protect and care for queer women. Not using us as stepping stone soap boxes to prop up an argument.

Queer people are really done dirty in the Polin fandom, and this is proof of it. Demi!Colin is important to me, and he continues living on in my heart and my fics, and even if it turns out that he's fucked up and down the Amalfi coastline and watched live porn, that won't make him less demi to me, personally. Ace spec people's experience with sex is all unique, and honestly, watching seems very in line with Colin's character. I don't agree with peeps who call it weird or gross that he watches porn.

This is an incredibly puritanical fandom, and I find it more and more evident as I spend time in it. The entire 'suffering' 'penance' 'deserve her' 'grovel' train was already very clear in that regard, and then people only wanting Colin to be a virgin so he remained 'pure' and 'untarnished' (legit takes I had to read with my own eyeballs) for Penelope was so Catholic on main that it made me feel insane.

Us ace-spec peeps deserve to be and should have the space to be upset at any developments taking place! We also deserve to be free from people doing pseudo pearl clutching and hiding behind feminist and queer-friendly language to disguise that they're just upset that Colin is getting anything at all in his storyline that centers around him and his own discovery outside of Penelope. Even if he isn't a virgin, he can absolutely still be Demi, Anon! And I hope that brings you some comfort.

Am I a fan of the threesomes foursomes moresomes and live porn speculation? No, not particularly. Am I livid furious throwing up about it? Also no. This series has betrayed me and disappointed me in so many ways, but so has the fandom. I guess I'm accustomed to it, now. But I want to reiterate that we should not believe everything that is posted. Some rando on a reddit forum confirming a tabloid article does not investigative journalism and peer review and confirmed sources make.

But in the event that the season does disappoint and gives us some baffling storylines: this is where fanfic can be such a comfort. It's how a story lives on in perpetuity. I've written trans!Colin and queer!Colin and demi!Colin and virgin!Colin and bdsm!Colin and all sorts! We can give we everything we want. It's our playground and it's meant to be fun.

But over my dead body will I believe a Sun UK article lol

#tagging because i was asked to make it public #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #hot takes are hot i guess?

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hwan-g · 1 year

Text

11 O’ CLOCK TICK TOCK 🪬 jisung & seungmin.

part two/four of the skz go to hogwarts! series.

MOODBOARD | PLAYLIST

pair. soothsayer! jisung x fem! reader (+ prefect! seungmin, changbin, chan, minho) | genre. fantasy, romance, minor angst, smut | warnings. profanity, pet names, brief mention of smoking, food/drinking, clairvoyance, mentions of dark magic, legilimency, flawed characters, cheating, exhibitionism, fingering, dirty talk | word count. 11k

synopsis. you ask yourself when it changed. when did runes become decisions, and books holes to hide unspeakable truths? was it when you neared your captain with the Golden Snitch, and he couldn’t look away from the gold? or was it when he ran after you the first time but not the second one? decisions accumulate, you conclude. they do, and they mean everything.

“What disappears as soon as you say its name?”

That was the riddle the Ravenclaws had to solve to enter their Common Room after dinner time. It was also, apparently, the reason why the stairs to the blue and bronze tower were blocked for the past thirty minutes. An intense game of chess was currently taking place on a tread, a consequence of boredom, with both parties having lost equal amounts of pawns.

“It literally can’t be that hard,” a scowling Slytherin girl snarled, folding her arms over her chest.

Some students sitting cross legged on the stone floor in front of her looked up, an empty expression on their tired faces. The eagle knocker on the wooden door stared back, despite not blinking once. The entire fifth floor was in disarray, and no authority seemed to be around to navigate the lost Serpents back to the dungeons. The Ravenclaws were used to this scene, and certainly were not about to disrupt their routine for anyone.

“Why are you even going up there at this hour, Goyle? Class doesn’t start till midnight,” someone standing pointed out teasingly.

“None of your business,” she shot back, and stuck her button nose high up in the air in arrogance. “Anything,” she answered the knob, “we’re wizards.”

A disapproving murmur rose amongst the rest of the crowd, but Penelope Goyle ignored it all, stubbornly looking at the door that wouldn’t open. After a heartbeat, she stomped her foot and grabbed the hand of the Slytherin next to her, rushing down the stairwell before it moved again. A small win for some.

“Damn Ravenclaw riddles!” She yelled in frustration, and her voice echoed throughout the spiral staircase.

It was a strange thing, though, how no one seemed to know the answer to the knocker’s question. The portraits started placing bets after a point, talking about how ‘it may as well be the hardest riddle in a decade!’ and ‘back in our day wizards were infinitely smarter.’ Kevin Chang, son of Cho Chang, had sharply turned around and glared at that particular jab.

“Back in your day, you also started wars for no apparent reason,” he had snapped at the old man with the feather hat.

“Tell him, Chang!” Changbin’s loud tone boomed coming up the Grand Stairwell, followed by the Prefect Kim Seungmin, and Han Jisung, the former pushing through his two friends to see what the problem was.

“Where the hell have you been?” Orpheus Lovegood asked, getting up from the cold stone and dusting his robes. “Matter of fact, where’s Alphard?” Referring to the Head Boy currently missing.

Everyone looked around as if in a trance, realizing that the Head of their House was, indeed, not present. Seungmin sighed, muttering something about the Heads having a meeting with McGonagall. Orpheus groaned and slumped back down, rubbing his face, exasperated.

“What are you staring at?” Changbin snapped at his mortal enemy; the painting from 1847, Abraxas Rivertower, the last of his name.

“Here we fucking go again…” Jisung mumbled, clutching his broomstick tighter. “What’s the riddle?” He asked a Third-Year that was leaning against the ancient railing, one step behind him.

“What disappears as soon as you say its—OH, NOT AGAIN.”

The stone shook and thundered before moving slowly to the left, along with the kid, and four other students. Seungmin shook his head, and the Gryffindor chuckled. Jisung blinked.

“Rookie mistake,” Changbin shrugged, and turned back to the portrait. “I’ll say this one time and one time only, old man—Bang Chan is the best captain Hogwarts has had since Edgar Cloggs. Your generation did nothing for Quidditch.”

“I’ll have you know, you insolent little—”

“As soon as you say what?” Jisung interrupts the bickering by shouting over to the Ravenclaw that’s currently on his way to the other side of the castle.

“Its name!” He shouts back, hands around his mouth.

The Gryffindors look up, trying to see where all the commotion is coming from, while Seungmin scolds his House for not waiting for him to leave the Great Hall. Kevin argues that he’d seen Alphard go ahead of them, and assumed he was leading the way. The Prefect hung his neck and shook his head in disappointment, soft, parted hair moving with him.

“This is why I should’ve clearly been Head Boy.”

“Silence,” the round-cheeked boy says after a moment, raising an eyebrow at the eagle knocker.

The wood gives way and the door opens at once, the sound of it deafening to the tens of hopeless students that had been waiting in front of it. Clapping erupts and then everyone’s getting up at once, pushing their way through to the Common Room, Jisung’s name on their lips.

“Our Chaser is the best, of course.” “Top of the class, after all.”

“Move carefully, we have no staircase people!” Seungmin reminds them, annoyed, and climbs over rock to have a clearer view of the crowd.

“Guess I’ll wait for my lift,” the Gryffindor jokes, resting against the wall next to the entrance. “Look at you, all red.”

Jisung pierces him with an irritated look, mentally willing his hair to go back to its chestnut brown color. Having grown up with him, the Metamorphmagus abilities surprised no one by that point, yet his friends never seemed to let the fact go, teasing him any chance they got. It was all in good fun, he was aware, and secretly he even liked the attention.

But, God, could his best mates get infuriating.

“Make sure you go straight to your dormitory,” Seungmin warns Changbin, and the latter raises two fingers, placing them over his heart, crooked smile in full effect.

“You know I’m all about those rules, Min.”

“Are you, now?” The Prefect deadpans, and enters the Common Room, leaving the other two boys to stand guard until the Third-Years return with the stairway.

After Gryffindor’s win last week, Ravenclaw was gearing up for a game against Slytherin, which meant extra practices after classes, and sometimes even Sundays. The Serpents were clearly a threat to all Houses, and for good reason. The team had an unbeatable record, not to mention fast fliers. Jisung wasn’t as into it as Chan or Changbin were, but he still enjoyed the workout, and the feeling of the wind hitting his face on his broom. No other thing like it, except perhaps the smell of an old book, or you on his lips.

Shut the fuck up, Han Jisung.

There was no one to tell the secret to, he had learned. Only the corners of the library, the shadows of the candelabras—the creases of the books used that day. And they were friendly things, those; well equipped to keep secrets, and wishes. Ancient, reliable ways to swallow your feelings forever and never speak a word to anyone. Sometimes, though, and that was not often at all, Jisung would catch you looking at him, and find it in himself possible to risk everything if it meant having you. But it all also just meant one more silly reason he joined the team, and always a disappointment as your eyes remained impossibly locked on the Gryffindor captain, and never at the soothsayer. Understandably so, he’s concluded countless times. It didn’t lessen the sting.

Who’d want a scary vision and a life altering prophecy over riches and glory? Jisung was bound to lead a solitary path—Seungmin had predicted it, after all.

“Don’t tell me…” Changbin starts, tone taunting. “Purple hair, wistful expression—thinking of your unrequited crush again?” His elbow meets the Ravenclaw’s side, and Jisung resists the urge to shoot back, to ask about the Gryffindor girl that had rejected him twice or that one Hufflepuff he kept meeting up at the Astronomy Tower every Friday, but alas. He wasn’t cruel, and he certainly didn’t need any more questions raised towards him.

Even if he desperately wanted someone else besides Seungmin to talk to, about you and the things he’d seen in his crystal ball that morning in Divination class. There were far more important matters to discuss besides feelings and unlucky crushes. When would a good time come around for them, though…

“I’m a very easy person to read, Bin,” he said, slapping his friend’s chest. “Come on, we can wait inside. For all we know the staircase could’ve lost its way again.”

The Gryffindor nodded, putting both hands on the Metamorphmagi’s shoulders. “A smart fucking Raven you are, my friend.”

The Raven fakes a smile, and closes the door behind him. The Common Room has fallen into its usual half filled quiet study time, under the supervision of Kim Seungmin, who grimaces at the two of them entering without the rest.

“Too smart,” Jisung repeats to himself. “Far too smart for your own good, Han Jisung.”

“Cartomancy is commonly used to predict the future, and/or warn against a potential enemy,” professor Trelawney said, summarizing today’s lesson.

“You are each tasked to choose three cards out of the decks in front of you, my children. Three cards that are going to show you a truth. Go on, then!”

The tarot cards in front of Seungmin were faded, hand-drawn pieces of work that had been in desperate need of a replacement for some time now. He had half a mind to switch them out with his, but for the sake of this class to succeed and go according to the room’s energy, they simply had to do. Jisung on the other hand—the older boy looked to be under some kind of spell, a highly ordinary occurrence as it happened frequently when he was in the middle of a reading, but what wasn’t the least bit normal—the white tint over his orbs, the buzzing of the cards under his fingers.

The professor seemed to notice it as he did, nearing their table immediately and studying the Ravenclaw intently. The rest of the room was quiet, waiting for something kooky to happen, as it always did when Divination was in session. Seungmin was not impressed, he was concerned. Jisung had numerous visions nowadays, and fell ‘asleep’ even worse during readings. Trelawney thought he was just awakening as a mystic, but it was an entirely different thing the Raven was fighting…

“What do you see, boy?” The peculiar professor asked softly, holding her breath.

Hands moving, the boy in question pulled the three cards at once, never looking down at them. Instead, he stared straight ahead and through his friend. Seungmin sighed and made his own choices, flipping to see what they were.

“How’d you do that?” Orpheus asked him incredulously, sitting right above them.

Trelawney gasped, clutching at her chest. Everyone leaned in to get a closer look, the same surprise bleeding on their faces. Impossible, they all thought.

The Tower, Ten of Swords, Death.

On both decks.

“Disaster in the darkest hour. It has not happened yet—the Death is last,” Jisung wakes up with an abrupt shake, eyes widening before glancing down. “Twice over?” He questions, and looks to the professor for an explanation he cannot seem to find.

She’s shivering all over in her old age, backing away from the ominous duo. Seungmin gathers his things, sensing the class will be over sooner than expected. He tries to deny what just happened, but knows it’s bigger than him, bigger than Jisung himself, and will no doubt reach McGonagall and the rest of the teachers in no time. It’s a calamity, a warning. For time’s lived again and again.

“Dark times are upon us once more, my children,” she confirms the fear. “Stay behind, young mystics. The rest—dismissed! Someone please summon the Headmistress for me.”

It was the first time the class dispersed in such silence, Jisung had never seen it before. As if a gray cloud had settled over everyone, they moved in harmony and exited the room at once, leaving the two dorm mates alone with the professor. The red of the tablecloth hung heavy and deep underneath the weight of the cards. Seungmin wanted it to be a false draw, an error. Things would be simpler then, everything back to normal.

This is too much of a responsibility to hold, even for him.

Trelawney picks a fourth card, throws it on top of the others with an ease only natural to someone who’s been doing this for a very, very long time. Her fingers tremble as she passes her hand over the result.

Five of Cups. Card of change.

“One will be on each opposing side, both burdened by a decision,” she muses. “It won’t be you,” she looks at the Ravenclaws. “Though, you will be the eyes into the future.”

Seungmin maniacally chuckles, unable to hold himself back, while Jisung is getting crushed under the weight of what he’d just predicted.

“Are you seriously telling us there’s going to be another war?”

“Not me, no. The cards, dear boy.”

Seungmin blinks. “The cards can change.”

“But they can never lie,” the professor reminds sadly. “Even if the reading alters, the cards still have to be played out. It’s what I warned Albus about all those years ago…” she pins them down with a haunted look. “Before he died, I kept drawing a Tower moment. It ended up being a literal reading, and the loss was immense.”

“Professor, who has to make a decision?” Jisung asks seriously.

She looks at her student soberly, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “They will show themselves to you. You must guide them as you will know how.”

“You couldn’t have drawn a Wheel of Fortune, Han. It had to be Death,” Seungmin mutters, arms folded over his chest, robes perfectly pressed. “Typical.”

Minerva McGonagall enters the threshold in a hurry, cloak flowing in tumultuous waves, tight bun on the top of her head, looking exactly as they met her, six years ago. Timeless. The Minister of Magic stood next to her, her name powerful, important. Historic.

Hermione Granger stared at the two Ravenclaws in wonder.

Jisung glanced at Seungmin nervously, the latter’s eyes going fully round in surprise. They both couldn’t believe the legendary witch stood before them, eager to hear about their bad news concerning another war against the dark and corrupted. It was not a good look, they grimly thought. But it was, unfortunately, a true one.

“I was instructed to inform the Ministry should any talk of a prognostication like this come up,” the headmistress said. “Well?”

“It is merely an augury, though I’m sure a prophecy will not be too far behind…”

November shed all its leaves and greenery in exchange for snow. All mountain sides were covered with it, and the castle was too. Dusted and thick, it canceled a much-needed Quidditch practice, but instead gave an extra reason to haul students in the library and have them revise for the upcoming exams.

The Black Lake was at last entirely frozen, an exquisite view from the Ravenclaw Common Room. Kevin and Seungmin stood by the window, discussing the Astronomy group assignment, while Jisung got ready for yours and his study date, a tradition dating back since Fourth Year, the time his crush graduated from a tiny spark to a full blown forest fire. One sided, of course. Completely fine, that was. He’d made his peace with it already. Except for some nights, when the wound hurt too greatly, his heart beating too fast for someone that would never hear it. Still, he refused, he refused, he refused—

“Swear to me no one will learn about this,” Seungmin had made him promise. “Not a word to anybody.”

“I swear,” Jisung had agreed on it, his bones rattling with the importance of keeping something of this magnitude to himself. “I swear.”

But if something were to change, Jisung had decided; if he had a new vision on the next full moon, and it proved to be urgent… he’d tell Bang Chan. The Gryffindor needed to know, and possessed all the determination in the world to lead them to battle. A proper heads up would prove to be crucial, and he didn’t care what Seungmin or McGonagall said. Certain decisions were in order, and the Raven always felt the most qualified to make them. Seungmin was the moral of the two, but Jisung would do whatever needed to be done. The life of a mystic, perhaps.

Those were waters untested, still.

Saturdays were a fuzzy dream in the castle, coated with sticky snow and a breakfast, and lunch fit for kings. The Great Hall was always somehow so very questionably warm, and the corridors so bitterly cold, but it did not matter. The tea cakes melted in your mouth, and the quill ink never ran dry. By the time the clock sounded five in the evening, Jisung had spotted you waiting for him, an ‘Advanced Rune Translation’ volume in your hand, hair pulled away from your face, a knitted sweater and corduroy pants adorning your body.

“Kind of you to show,” he teases you, turning at once for the library.

You giggle, and nudge his arm. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

His eyes flutter shut for a single moment, the sound of your laugh too precious, too rare to go unnoticed. He wonders how it feels to live in the same space as you, hear you speak and feel your hands freely, instead of the borrowed time he has with you, the time that’s already being wasted just by walking. It is why he joined the team, the very reason why he took Ancient Runes when they have very little to do with what he’s interested in. To see you. To spend as much time with you as possible.

Him and his stupid heart, wishing and wanting without end, pointlessly. Until you break it, once and for all.

“Heard the Minister of Magic was here the other day,” you mention conversationally, waving back at random students Jisung does not know the names of. “Wonder why.”

Should he tell you? He’s lost sleep over this question. It is no sort of secret you’re one of the most important people in his life, and you deserve to know, to keep yourself safe. But to be aware of something like this prematurely, without absolute certainty of its chances of happening…he couldn’t risk that. For all he knows, the cards were picking up past energies of times passed.

How good has he taught himself to pretend ruin isn’t upon them because he predicted it.

“There’s a full moon this Thursday,” he changes the subject. “My magic is stronger then, so if you need anything solved or cleared up…”

“My Charms exams maybe,” you walk closer to him, a pleasant expression on your pretty face. “Minho mentioned you did a reading for Hyunjin last month.”

Jisung gave you a questioning look, slowing down his step. You seemed to regret letting that slip, but there was no way he was going to let that go now. Minho with you? Why?

“Wasn’t aware you two were friends.”

“We’re not,” you retort easily. “We’re working on a potion together.”

Again, he measures you with a suspicious glance. “And Chan knows about this?”

You frown, and that’s answer enough. Still, you continue, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

You take the left turn to the corridor, and your arm wraps around his bicep absentmindedly, the Hufflepuff Head Girl exiting the library wondering about your proximity, sneaky eyes following your movements closely. Nearly everyone had learned the news about the princess of Gryffindor and its House’s favorite captain. It was kind of hard to miss when Chan would follow you around everywhere, like some sort of nervous puppy and its owner.

Nauseating, Seungmin had called it. For Jisung it was just tough to swallow.

“What was the reading about, Ji?” You drop your voice as you settle into a spot in between the two bookshelves.

Your study mentor busies himself with selecting the books needed for this session, avoiding your eyes. You smile as you notice the shade of his hair turning a ginger shade, and you wait for the familiar roll of his shoulders to speak again. Learning to figure out the Raven had proved to be a challenge all in itself. A fun one, nonetheless.

“It can’t have been good. His friend is planning to raise the dead.”

Jisung almost gets whiplash from how fast he spins his head your way. You smirk, crossing your legs at the ankles, and lean against the desk behind you. Neither of you break eye contact.

“What are you saying?” He asks quietly, and his voice sounds strange. Like how it does when he’s amongst tarot cards and crystal balls. Careful not to disrupt the magic.

You insist. “I’m saying I know a little more than you do for once, Han. What was the reading about?”

With a tall pile of books following him, the Ravenclaw walks to your usual spot by the furthest window away from Irma Pince, the ‘book keeper from Hell’ as you called her, and throws a leg over the wooden table, expression solemn.

“He’s been having dreams. Are you even acquainted with Hwang? Why the sudden interest?”

Your eyes shine as you sit down in front of him, opening your book to the appropriate page. The bookshelves stretch endless on each side of you, the rest of the students throwing you sharp glances, visibly fed up with your chit-chat.

“Never talked to him,” you say proudly, and Jisung is pretty sure you’re messing with him.

“I say this because I’m your friend, (Y/N), but—some things are meant to stay hidden.”

The two of you fell into your almost religious silence quickly enough, working together but separately, breaking concentration only when a question arose. Jisung was a natural in translating ancient passages into modern English, and you were not far behind, though your struggle lay on deciphering the runes themselves. It is where the differences between your Houses lay—he took a direct approach to puzzles, treating them as things with answers instead of questions, while you just couldn’t get past your ignorance. Perhaps it was your muggle background that prevented you from truly excelling; the fact that Jisung simply knew about these symbols, while you had to rewire your entire brain to even fathom they could possibly mean something.

He always took his time with you, teaching you patiently and thoroughly, his fingers tracing the runes on paper like he’d written them himself, eons ago—like friends meeting again, or at least that’s what it seemed like to you. Jisung, you’d decided a couple years ago, could not be figured out, not in the slightest. Most likely it was a Ravenclaw feature; to constantly be slipping into reverie, with no firm grasp on reality. Maybe he was never meant to fully be corporeal, to make sense—he’d always been the kid with the book, the odd one out for being able to look into a crystal ball and see more than just glass. Clairvoyance is a gift, he’d explained to you once, if one is willing to admit the future is beyond their grasp. That perhaps, all there should be is not all there is.

A lot of the time, you didn’t understand him. Not entirely. None but three classmates of yours in this whole school possessed the abilities Han Jisung had, and he was one of them, Seungmin being the other one, and Lee Felix from Hufflepuff the biggest question mark of them all. Someone that shouldn’t, yet is. The Raven took him under his wing immediately, offering everything there was to know, and watching it take form, transform into something more, something different than what he had. But nevermind that—it was a story for another time.

Your eyes followed him; the way his full lips fell open, the voice coming out soft and kind, the round cheeks and the round glasses, and the round eyes. He was just so…circular, so untouched by sharpness. Some time ago you’d taken a leap and kissed him, just to see how it felt holding the secrets of the universe inside you. Turns out they taste like blueberries, and feel like standing on the Astronomy Tower at midnight, looking up at the starry sky through a telescope, all impossible, and grounding, and transcending at the same time. You could never be with someone like Jisung, you would only hold him back.

There was no magic for you like there was for him. Books are all you could possibly share or have in common. Yet, it never left your mind, the moment of contact… Secrets knew how to conceal themselves in a library. So they did. You, on the other hand. Where was a place for you to hide, to exist through runes and charms and potions? If he could do it—if he could touch decades old cards, and sit on the highest tower on a full moon with his eyes closed and his palms open, and have the answers come to him, where would be a way to cheat your heart, the very atoms that make you, and finally find some peace for yourself?

“You know, I feel you slipping away,” he tells you very stilly, cocking an eyebrow and turning his face slightly to look at you. “If you’re bored then, by all means, put me out of my misery here.”

You can’t look away or pull back, so you stare. You smile, and you wonder if he, perhaps, is also a Legilimens. If you’re meant to collect them all and have them know you inside out as you’re losing your way more obviously with each passing day. If you can hear me, tell me what I should do.

Jisung just smiles back, holds his breath. Secrets have a way of outing themselves cold. Sometimes you’re expecting them warmly, arms open wide. Sometimes they kick you in the face and call you a hypocrite. Which one is it, then?

“You? Miserable with thousands of books around? Please. You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Is it working?”

Your back hits the chair, and you exhale a breathy laugh. “Maybe. Continue.”

He closes the thick book, and takes off his reading spectacles. His hair is red, and his cheeks are flushed. Your Raven is a difficult person to figure out, yes, but he’s the easiest to read. You think of Chan and how he’d react knowing you’re very actively thinking about kissing your mutual friend again. You think that because it’s clear he is. Perhaps he always has.

What you don’t notice are his closed fists. The way he wants.

“You’re asking me to do something,” he states, and it’s unfair, you know. “I won’t. I can’t.”

You don’t even blink. “No one thing is carved in stone. You told me that.”

“I didn’t mean this.”

“And yet this is no different,” you argue calmly. “It’s been going on for a long time, hasn’t it?”

He caves, or crumbles, and his back curves, his elbows touch his knees. He’s contemplating, and the universe is moving with him. It feels so much more than what it is, and for some reason you sense that it is not simple, it is not light. It will not be easy with Han Jisung, not like how it is with Chan. And maybe it will happen all the same, and there will not be a single fucking thing you’ll able to do about it.

You ask yourself when it changed. When did runes become decisions, and books holes to hide unspeakable truths? Was it when you neared your captain with the Golden Snitch, and he couldn’t look away from the gold? Or was it when he ran after you the first time but not the second one? Decisions accumulate, you conclude. They do, and they mean everything.

“Ever since I met you,” the Metamorphmagi replies, hands in front of him, an unconscious plea. By the time he closes his mouth, the strands on his head have turned black, and it is then that you realize this is bigger than you. It always is.

Because he’s not playing the game anymore, either.

It is amidst dusty books and claustrophobic library aisles that he takes your wrist and gives a wave for everything to go back into place. Non verbal magic is extremely difficult to get right, but there he was, a place he knew so intently bending to him, to his will, and he didn’t even have to mutter a single word. You recognize nothing in this Jisung—he’s not your friend, and he’s not the person that helps you study. He’s a mystic, a soothsayer with abilities beyond your understanding, and a wizard capable of far more than most his age. And all of this he achieved quietly, without fuss. While everyone else was too busy showing off.

Irma nods at the both of you as you speed walk out of the area, and into the cold, torch lit corridors of the first floor of the castle. The collar of his white button up is crooked over his sweater vest, but you swallow and say nothing because there’s raw intent in the way your hand is clasped in his. How his fingers crawled down the delicate skin to find your own, the warmth of touch closing around your digits. He has never done this before. You do not know how to come back from it.

Under stone and into the shadows is where he pushes you against rough wall and takes your mouth in his. A statue of someone important and dead towers over the both of you, but then your eyes fall closed and you can’t think of nothing but Jisung, Jisung, Han Jisung and his clean scent, his hands roaming your body, holding your face, pushing your hair back—

You move forward and press your chest to his, your arms around his broad shoulders, feeling the muscle of his back. It doesn’t register, or more like it can’t possibly—that you’re really doing this, while Chan is back in the dorms completely oblivious, thinking you’re transcribing runes next to the one person that can get you to focus. Something important is now tainted forever thanks to your inability to make up your mind. Your heart.

“Don’t you dare slip away from me now,” Jisung mutters fervently against your lips. “There’s nothing to do about what’s already been done.”

Fingers get lost in your trousers, inside your panties, curling upwards, pushing in, and you gasp, the feeling forbidden, overwhelming in its intensity. The boy all over you fucks you with an objective set in mind—to have you come all over his hand, to smell you on him every time he goes to sleep, to think back on this and have something to remember you by, something concrete, unnerving, more than a kiss, less than a conjoining of bodies. He will have it. No matter what.

“I‘ve waited for so long…watched you from afar, unable to have you like this…wanted you in all ways, your scent, your mouth, your cunt…will you understand, darling? Could you ever?”

He’s breathing hard, and you can’t really see him, but you think you can make out a sliver of midnight blue above his eyebrow, dark eyes flaring against the tiny bit of fire light that’s reaching in between the curves of the statue. Red for embarrassment, orange for nervousness, purple for love, blue for—

Blue was for—sadness. Your brows furrow as you further study his face, your eyes getting used to the dark. A surrendered expression stares back; given up eyes, and a pained smile. You can’t explain what’s stirring inside you, only that you’ve somehow hurt him, your friend, your sweet, sweet Raven. Because you don’t know what you’re looking for, while he’s been so sure from the get go. And now you ruined it.

Blue is sad because it knew all along.

“I could turn into him,” he whispers, and it’s not proud. It’s a shameful, quiet thing that escapes his mouth all at once and leaves a big hole in the middle of your chest. “If that will make me have you. I could turn into anyone you want.”

Your hands immediately cradle his face, and he leans into your touch, leans into you like a flower under the sun. Jisung blooms and opens, and it’s beautiful, it’s a lovely rarity to see. It’s all for you, and you’re being awful, leading him on in his vulnerability. You’re awful.

His hands undo your pants, while his digits move faster inside you. You’re terrified of moaning, of informing anyone of what you’re doing. Your senses are on overdrive, your moral compass seemingly cracking every time Jisung hits a spot that has you seeing stars, and his mouth devours yours like a starved man, a man that knows he only has one chance at this. He makes it count.

You convince yourself this is closure. This needs to happen so he can move on. It’s imperative that it does. Your lips go to his forehead, then his eyelids, his cheek, his nose, and finally his lips. You don’t dare actually kiss him again, you won’t be the first, but you linger, a ghost of a breath away, hoping the illusion will be enough.

“I would never ask that of you,” you tell him. “Never. You are one of a kind, Ji. I want you because it’s you. I just wish you would’ve gotten to me first.”

His eyes are still closed, taking your words in, his lips pressed together like it hurts to even hear such things come out your mouth, and maybe they do; maybe he’s regretted that most of all, these years he’s watched you from afar with his friend. That you would’ve ever accepted him is news to him. He almost doesn’t want to believe it, if the truth of it wasn’t stitching his very existence back together.

When you come, it’s an absolution that spreads across your chest, warm as a summer day, cold as panic. He holds you anyway. He holds you and makes sure your dignity, at least, stays intact. He never meant for this to happen, but chaos is a ladder, and he’s decided to climb it. See where it takes him.

He knows he needs to step away from you now. Right the wrong. But Merlin’s beard, he can’t fucking seem to know how to.

“Let me see you hear it, just once,” you see him draw a shaky breath in, his courage inhaled, at the tip of his tongue, “I love you, darling. I always have. If you come to me tomorrow or in ten years, I’ll be right here. I’ll fucking wait for you, I swear.”

“Please, Jisung. How can I—”

“Moving,” he hears a familiar venomous voice behind him. His jaw clenches, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “As it stands, (Y/N), this is the second man I see you with. Is there some sort of way to sign up for this apparent club you have going on?” A pause, as Jisung turns around to glare at the figure studying the both of you. “Consider me interested, sweetheart.”

Lee Minho stood amidst the dark in all his height and expensive clothing, obviously amused and tantalized with his own comment. The deep plum of his hair glittered under the faint light, and his big eyes sparkled with mischief.

You hadn’t seen him in a few days, after the two of you spent most of Tuesday afternoon gathering the ingredients for your joint potion. He had told you to go back to your dormitory as soon as everything was put together and ready to go, and it had left a very bad taste in your mouth. So, you’d decided to ignore him. After all, he was the one needing your help.

“What do you want, Minho?” Your Raven had turned feathery black all over, clearly irritated by the interruption. “You better have a reason for this.”

Minho tilted his head in question, obviously patronizing the Ravenclaw. “You mean walking to the library? Han, you’re out in the open,” he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his gaze sliding to you.

“Stop that,” you warn him, and you try to guard your mind as best as you can. “I’ve never given you permission to do that.”

Jisung squints his eyes at the two of you, visibly confused at first, though it doesn’t take long for him to figure it out. By then, Minho was chuckling in naughty delight, twirling his wand between his fingers.

It happens fast—the Metamorphmagi’s lips move and the wand goes flying right out of the Serpent’s hands. You slip from behind your friend and put yourself in the middle of them, hoping that’ll be enough to stop a serious altercation from happening. There was no reason to have points revoked for petty silliness.

“Powerful, our soothsayer, isn’t he?” The Slytherin comments, and brings his wand back the same way it was taken away. “Pity I’m better.”

“Seriously debatable,” Jisung deadpans, and you grab his sleeve, giving it a slight tug. He falls silent, those expressive eyes thundering to come to your defense.

“Leave the witty remarks for your Prefect, Han. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Why?”

Minho looks at you again. You sense you’re not supposed to hear what’s about to come next, but Jisung doesn’t bat an eye to it, making you want to stand your ground. I’m already part of this, you think in hopes the pureblood will hear it.

He does.

“The Minister came to the castle. You must’ve had something for her.”

“And what’s it to you?”

Minho audibly sighs, growing annoyed with the hostility. Just then, two Hufflepuffs cross behind him, whispering to themselves about the scene playing out in front of them. You panic, thinking they saw your hold on Jisung, and your hand immediately drops.

You regret it as soon as you do it. The Ravenclaw shudders, his eyelids fluttering, but he says nothing.

“I’m being very nice right now, Jisung. You can choose to tell me or I can do it my way.”

“Muffliato,” you quickly cast, encasing the three of you in a makeshift privacy bubble. The boys look at you. “What? Someone had to do it.”

Minho ignores that. “You’re aware my father works at the Ministry.”

The Raven folds his arms, leans against the wall. “The redemption arc, yes. We’ve heard it a thousand times. One too many Death Eaters parading around free, if you ask me.”

If Minho took offense in that, you’ll never know. His expression betrayed little, his stance remaining the same since he snuck up on you. “Not for long,” he states, tone devoid of emotion. “They’re planning an upheaval.”

Just then, the muffling incantation is disrupted, one Kim Seungmin looking absolutely shaken in his brown leather jacket and boots. He looked like he’d just come from somewhere, you conclude. His hair was wind-ruffled, his cheeks rosy.

“We need to take this behind closed doors,” he says, and Jisung is the first to catch the urgent tone in his voice. “Come with me. Now.”

The Room of Requirement materialized only when a person was in dire need of it.

Seungmin had to walk past it three times before the entrance could show itself. You’d never been at that part of the castle, all the way to the seventh floor, and you’d certainly never witnessed the tapestry opposite the hidden spot—Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls how to dance ballet. How ridiculous. So peculiar, indeed, that only a wizard would have gone through it or dreamt it up. The magical world terrified you and befuddled you at the same time. Wonders at every corner. You would never truly get the hang of it, no matter how hard you tried, and you’d have to live with that.

But this room. It was nothing but an empty classroom with a single window, or at least that’s what it appeared to be. An untraceable place that not many people knew of—sounded like a disaster waiting to happen to you. The Slytherin was the first to break the silence, while Seungmin gave your shoulder a squeeze in greeting.

“Mind telling us why we’re here?”

Something passed between the two Ravenclaws, something you and Minho missed entirely. You merely understood it to be mystic work, an ability far beyond anything you had to offer.

The Prefect took a deep breath, gathering his slipping wits about him. “There was an attack on the Wizengamot two hours ago.”

Jisung looked at Minho who looked at Seungmin like the boy just confirmed an appointment with him. Indifferent, with those characteristic undertones of his that you still haven’t managed to figure out. Not one. This was serious. Connecting it to what the Slytherin told you earlier, it seemed to check out, because—

There hadn’t been any attacks…anywhere, really, since the late nineties. At least not confirmed ones, and it was then that the news clicked in you, the gears in your brain crossing from one dot to the other. Chan needed to hear this. He needed to know. But above all, you had to gather more information. Jisung seemed to think the same thing.

“Was anyone hurt?”

A faint shake of brown hair. “They mostly targeted the building itself. But the Senior Undersecretary…”

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho moved closer to the window, his focus moving with him.

“The— Wait, what?” Jisung did a double take on his friend, the words registering in his ears.

“What about her?” you ask.

There’s low muttering and then a Patronus Charm is casted, an Adder slithering its way across air, waiting to be directed. Minho whispers to it, and sends it off with his wand, its blue smoke figure passing through the glass effortlessly. One second you see magic being conjured, the next Jisung has his own unicorn core pointed at the Serpent’s neck, gaze vicious, suspecting.

“What did you do?” he asks him roughly.

You reach a hand out to rest it on his shoulder, but he’s rigid, ice cold. There’s no getting through to him at all. And for good reason, you think. But what if we weren’t always so mistrustful? What then?

“That’s his mother, is it not?” Minho asks but it’s rhetorical. The question already has an answer.

“And?”

“Hyunjin’s father is Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement. If the Minister’s Undersecretary was attacked,” he paused and blinked pointedly, “don’t you think it was an inside job?”

“Jisung…” you spoke softly. The boy clenched his jaw, but dubiously pulled back, lowering his wand.

“I warned him,” the Slytherin looked at all of you. “That it’s began.”

“You knew?” Seungmin asks, perplexed. Offended. “You knew and said nothing?”

Minho fixed his emerald blazer, eyes flashing. It was obvious he was reaching his limit with this interaction. He humored the Ravenclaw anyway. “I know fuck all, Prefect. I’m preparing myself for every outcome, as should all of you. You think they’re going to stop there? What a foolish assumption, if so.”

“Your father is an Unspeakable. Excuse me if I have a hard time believing anything that comes out of your mouth right now, Lee,” Jisung snapped, staring hard at the green board on the wall opposite him. “What about the Minister? Surely she’s not been Imperiused?” he caustically drawls.

“Wouldn’t you expect an ex-war heroine to be at least a little bit watchful over her employees?”

The room switched in a flash. Desks went flying, but none of you visibly moved an inch; instead books and telescopes occupied the space around you, the sound of them hitting the ground nonexistent. Peculiar clocks, astral maps, constellation globes and a humongous hourglass the size of a grizzly bear stared back at you, the sand slowly flowing to the bottom bulb, an ominous warning. It was in that moment that Jisung’s body tensed up next to you, his eyes going wide then glazing over, a thin strip of haze frosting them in place. Your heart jumped, and you grabbed his hand, until you remembered there was no way of bringing him back.

No way of waking him up until the vision was over.

“The room is trying to tell us something,” Seungmin said, flipping through the numerous books. He looked frantic, quavering. “A prophecy…she was waiting for a prophecy.”

“Well, he’s working on that, isn’t he?” Minho points at the Raven, currently a thousand worlds away. A typical occurrence.

You never once drop your friend’s hand, but your brain is already working on possible scenarios. One thing burned in your chest, though, like liquid fire—whatever this was, whatever it would become… Everyone close to you would be involved, because everyone was tied to the people responsible in some way or the other. Jisung to Seungmin, Minho and Hyunjin and their Ministry fathers, Felix and Changbin… All purebloods had connections to higher ups in the wizarding world, years of positions of power being passed down from generation to generation.

“Why Wizengamot, though?” You ask, piecing the puzzle together.

“The place that condemned them. Sent them to Azkaban,” the Serpent folds a map down the middle, and looks at you simply. No patronizing glint or ironic raise of the brow. Just classmates speculating.

Funnily, you think you can get used to this.

“But Seungmin’s mother was still a student when the trials were held.”

The other Ravenclaw is too busy looking through star charts to join in the conversation, but Minho appears almost eager for this back and forth. Perhaps to provide answers for himself as well as the rest of you. Somehow, you think Chan and the others should be here as well. They deserve to know, to prepare themselves.

“They wanted to send a message, sweetheart,” the prune-haired boy nears you, lifts a strand of your hair and looks at it. You hold your breath—hold Jisung’s hand even tighter. His mouth curves, and he pierces you with those glittery brown eyes, a curse wrapped with a bow. You will your mind to close in on itself, just in case.

“The law is below them this time. They are the law.”

Jisung heaves a breath and shivers all over, coming back to the present or reality, you’re not sure which one came first. No one knows where he goes during his visions, nor do they know how long it’ll take for him to return. All they know is that if he has one, it’s important. Consequential. His fingers squeeze the side of your hand, and your attention turns to him, Minho glancing momentarily at the Soothsayer before taking a step back and going over to Seungmin, giving an absentminded spin to one of the globes.

“What is it, Ji?” you murmur, nuzzling your chin on his vest, worried, eager to learn about the unknown. You would never acquire this piece of magic by yourself, you would always have to rely on others for it.

Seungmin stopped what he was doing and looked up, sensing something you could not. Even Minho seemed to catch onto it, both his eyebrows disappearing under his bangs.

“A blood moon will rise over the one who has to make the choice,” he says stiffly, but his head shakes, like it doesn’t make much sense to him either. “He wears a black ring, he has a golden friend.”

The Slytherin chuckles but it’s not humorous. It’s not even mocking. It’s a dry, dark thing that fills you with fear. Something you don’t know. Again and again. Jisung softly untangles from your grasp, and looks around the room in a daze. He appears to understand why it’s the way it is, why the constellations are important. Ravenclaws and their moon magic, their mystic ways. It’s nothing but an alien concept to you, and it infuriates you to no end.

“We might have to brew that potion faster than I thought,” he says.

“What potion?” Seungmin asks, nose buried in another book.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“Min,” Jisung calls. His friend snaps his head up. “Golden friend. Cancer to the west, Virgo to the east—it’s the Leo constellation.”

“Oh, fuck me,” the Prefect groans. “The Sickle.”

You were entirely lost, embarrassingly confused. “What are you talking about?”

The Raven turned to you, a tired smile on his lips. “It means we have a question mark in our hands, darling. We don’t know who the ‘Golden friend’ is.”

“I do.”

You all look to the Serpent in the corner, a muggle cigarette in his mouth. He was staring directly at you.

“It’s Lee Felix, the Hufflepuff that possesses the Time Turner.”

Golden friend. Jisung is the first to scramble for the door, never forgetting to grab your hand as he goes to leave. Seungmin yells at him to slow down, and from the corner of your eye you see him putting his face in his hands, exasperated.

“If we leave now, we may never find these books again!”

“These books are not the answer, Seungmin,” Jisung retorts, turning the carved, bronze knob.

“Then why did they show themselves to us? I better stay behind.”

Your Raven rolls his eyes and shakes his head as you come back out the same way you went in, Minho following close behind. You look both ways, and then run down the corridor, down the stairs, time a mystery, only the mission in mind. Who’s friend? You kept repeating in your head. He wears a black ring. Your Gryffindor boys only wore silver jewelry. A hidden anxiety that lay heavy on your shoulders evaporated at once with that thought. It’s not them. And if not them, then who?

“Hard headed Ravenclaw…” he mutters, but you can tell books never held answers for him. Not to the questions that mattered.

“I know another one,” you say teasingly. “He has a death grip on my hand right now.”

His hold softens, an apologetic look flashing in his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbles quickly. “That wasn’t what we’re looking for…” he admits, rushing down the stairs of the fourth floor.

“Jisung, slow down!” you say, and for the life of you, you can’t seem to catch your breath.

It’s Minho who catches you before you can fall flat on the staircase, the boy close behind you with his own thoughts, all three of you heading the same way. You glance at him only for a moment, before pulling yourself back to your feet, your fingers catching the Ravenclaw’s again. He’s staring right through you, though, to the purple of the Slytherin’s hair, and you’ve just about had enough with the secrecy.

“We need to tell Chan,” you assert. “We have to. And then we can find Felix. This is so much bigger than us,” you plead with the Metamorphmagi. “Please.”

“Don’t want to rush you, Raven, but we need that prophecy,” Minho says and you realize he’s been reading Jisung’s mind this entire time. “You know it as well as I do that without it we’re fucked.”

Just in time for dinner, the unlikely trio enters the Hall conversing in hushed tones, searching through the tables’ crowds to find the boys in question. Once again, your hand leaves the warmth of the person holding it as soon as you spot the soft curls and toned shoulders. Jisung smiles at you anyway, because this time it’s changed—you are partners in something far greater, bigger than life. You will stop a war from happening. You will fight together against the dark forces that are threatening your very freedom, just like your predecessors did all those years ago. You’ll do it better, even.

You had a plan.

He leans into you, his lips in your hair, and he whispers, “Think about me. Think about me like I think of you. All the time. Desperately.”

Then the Serpent says, “Meet me at the abandoned girls bathroom tomorrow, at four o’clock,” and he leaves, too. Goes to his Houses’ table, and sits down next to Hwang Hyunjin, the blonde busy sketching in the notebook in front of him, unaware of most things.

You glance back at your teammates and sigh. How to persuade them to listen…

“Look who the cat dragged in!” Changbin exclaims, patting the seat next to him. “Jake joined us tonight, hope you don’t mind.”

You waved at the younger Gryffindor, and stared at the empty plate in front of you. Then at the full table of delicious food that didn’t seem one bit appetizing at the moment. Not after what you’d learned. All you had to do was tell them about later tonight. After that, Jisung would take over. Somehow, a simple task like that was making your palms sweaty, and it mostly had to do with the fact that neither of your friends seemed particularly keen on fully believing in Divination. Even after witnessing what the Raven could do. Even after being proven wrong. Multiple times.

“Hey, so, guess what,” you start, but you’ve no idea how to go on after that. All three boys turn to you, Jake blushing and looking away quickly. “Party at the Ravenclaw Common Room tonight.”

Changbin furrows his eyebrows at you. “Jisung never mentioned anything.”

You chuckle nervously. “Yeah, it was sort of last minute…”

Chan knows you best of all, though. Your mirror, since you met him. He nods, though believes not one word of it. You think he looks especially beautiful, with his natural curls and black shirt. Like a sculpture or a Greek God or both. Definitely always holding gold in his hands, flying high in the sky, overlooking, coaching. When your eyes meet, he knows something happened. Something that regular ears cannot bear to hear. He reaches over the wood for your wrist, and his thumb traces the bracelet adorning it, the beads colors moving, like smoke encased. A birthday gift long ago. He can’t believe you still have it, that you still wear it. Sometimes he can’t believe you love him back, that, perhaps, you’ll love him forever.

He will. Until the end of time. No matter what.

“Minho was with you again,” he says, but keeps his tone neutral, not wanting another fight.

Though, it did lead to mindblowing sex.

You scoop some mashed potatoes on your plate, your cup filling up with apple cider as soon as you decide to eat, and you nod, avoiding his inquisitive gaze. Changbin passes you a couple dinner rolls unasked, and talks animatedly with Jungkook about Quidditch. You touch his forearm in thanks, and he smiles lopsidedly at you. It’s the innocent way you care about each other that fuels your impatience. The sooner they know the better they’ll be protected.

Despite wanting this, you can’t help but think that you like the way it feels to know a Ravenclaw secret that they don’t. Or a Han Jisung one, more like. It makes your heart flutter in a way you can’t ignore.

“What did you study today?”

“Ancient Runes,” you reply, chewing on bread. “It was a particularly tricky passage I had to transcribe today. Jisung was on top of me about it.”

The bells only rang inside your own head, but it felt like someone was pointing a flashing arrow above you, your guilt and the weight of what you did nearly crushing you to death. The same feeling of not being able to inhale enough oxygen burst through your lungs, just like that night when Gryffindor won, that suffocating song echoing in your ears. Still, you chastised yourself to sit through dinner, to pretend, and to be a good friend to the people you’ve known all your wizard years. It seemed as though, if you weren’t able to do even that much, the chain would break, the spell would lift.

You’d no longer be tied to Bang Chan or his reflection. And that scared you immensely—like not recognizing your own self. You eat more bread, and look at the long fingers playing with your bracelet. Without realizing, your eyes lock with the Raven’s, over your table, over Chan, and Alphard and Kevin Chang. You wonder how long he’s been looking, why your heart had been searching for him before your eyes did. Weird how a person can just…be there, all of a sudden, when before he was nowhere around. He will always keep happening to you now.

“It’s a good thing he’s around then, yeah?”

“Huh?” You zoom back to Chan’s face; his full lips, and sharp jaw. His carved features tug at your split heart.

His eyes are dark, watching you ruefully. “Perhaps a little too much,” he concludes, letting the bone of the chicken hit the plate loudly. Changbin turns at the sound, even amongst all the commotion.

It’s clear that the captain is getting angry. And it’s entirely directed at you. Like you’d ever be able to escape him. Like you can even try. He’s all mouth, then, rotten, saccharine, with sharp teeth and an even sharper instinct, cutting through you like a surgeon, opening up your passageways, inspecting the reasons you are not how you usually are, and if not, then why do you seem to stand lightyears away, when just this morning he held you in his arms? Had fucked you in his bed?

Someone was stealing you away. Over his dead fucking body.

“We should skip the party,” he suggests, but you know him, he’s declaring—for the both of you. “We have practice tomorrow anyway.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“Change of plans,” he replies easily, serving himself some pudding. “We need it if we are to win against Slytherin.”

“This again…” you mutter under your breath, annoyed. “Do you ever just think people have other plans, Chan? Besides Quidditch?”

You don’t think you’ll ever forget how he looked at you then. Like a wounded puppy, like a soul sliced in half. You hated hurting him; it gutted him like no other, because it was you, because your words carried a different weight altogether. But he was being selfish and territorial, and he needed to stop. Stop demanding, stop assuming, stop deciding for you when you are perfectly capable of deciding for yourself.

Of course he’d never admit to it. Not in front of others, and especially not in front of his team. Changbin seemed uncomfortable listening to your conversation. He didn’t mean to—it was just impossible not to. His hand moved under the table, giving your knee a supportive squeeze. You squirm.

“Forgive me then,” he apologizes coldly, and the subject is dropped.

“Ravenclaw has the pitch tomorrow, man,” Changbin informs his captain. “They requested an emergency practice, since the game is around the corner.”

“Cool. Guess I have no say over anything anymore.”

You audibly sigh, piercing him with a strict glare. “You’re being dramatic.”

Chan wipes his mouth and laughs. It’s an uncontainable laugh, something that bubbled out of his throat maniacally, like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. He avoided your eyes.

“Dramatic? Baby girl, it’s you who’s lying to me,” he gets up suddenly, and passes a leg over the bench, getting ready to leave. “Ravenclaws don’t have fucking parties. And my girl has certainly never smelled like pinewood before.”

By that point, almost the entire table had stopped talking, every student staring at the interaction between the Royal couple of Gryffindor. The title never suited you; you always felt the weight of it being next to the Quidditch captain, the heaviness laying on your chest at night, thoughts of having to keep the act together for a strong and unified House or even just a peaceful school experience. You’d figured early on, that if you were to go against Bang Chan’s plans and wishes, it would be more than merely you suffering.

Because no one goes against him. No one has ever attempted to.

“Hey,” Changbin snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. “What’s going on, almighty Seeker? Can’t figure yourself out of this one?”

Sensing people were still not minding their business, he did you a favor and scared them all off with a harsh bark of “Show’s over!” and a blazing scowl. You were never more glad to have Seo Changbin as a dear friend. He never failed to make you feel better. So many instances you can think of—he always came to the rescue, knowing just the right thing to say. A magician, but not the usual kind.

You shuffle closer to him, turning your head so your mouth is close to his ear. He leans in, curious, dark hair brushing the side of your face, brow raised. From the ceiling—snow. You watched as it fell on the student's shoulders and disappeared right away. Like it was never there.

“Jisung had a vision,” you start from the most familiar part.

Changbin almost groans, his head falling back, a disbelieving expression forming on his hard face. You squeeze his hand at once, willing, begging him to listen. And you’re not sure what it was; the serious tone of your voice or the way your eyes did not waver, not even a little bit, not even as he visibly faltered, refused to listen—

“You’re not telling me to cut it out,” he observes, baffled.

You softly shake your head, treading this subject carefully. “It’s crucial you believe me this time, Binnie.”

The beginning of the end. Your friend takes a deep breath, muscled shoulders rising and falling, and looks around before focusing on you, on what you had to say.

“Okay,” he said. His brown eyes turned dark. “I’m listening.”

As soon as Bang Chan exited the Hall, he regretted everything he said. But to go back? Admit his mistake? His ego would never let him, and he was aware of that. Perhaps he’d let a couple days go by, try to clear out his mind by flying or—he could write a letter to his mother, surely, she would have the answers, she’d guide him as she usually did…

Yes, that seemed like a solid idea. His chest deflated, his step bouncing, seemingly a weight lifting off of him—right as he was about to step on the stairwell to go to his Common Room, a certain Raven stopped him.

Not physically. By surprise.

“I thought you’d be at your table,” he remarked. “Where were you?”

Kim Seungmin stared at the Gryffindor dumbfounded. He wasn’t expecting to bump into him, and he definitely was in no state to explain or make a convincing enough excuse. Your words rang in his mind, and by the unassuming look Chan was sporting, he guessed Jisung still hadn’t told him.

“We’ve been busy,” he shrugged. “Look, there’s something you need to know. Something I found—I mean we, we found out today. It’s important.”

Chan nodded, assessing the disheveled state of his acquaintance. “Alright. What is it?”

The Ravenclaw hesitated, clearly overwhelmed himself with the discovery. He’d been informed his mother was in stable condition, that she’d be good to go come tomorrow. Even with this piece of information, Seungmin couldn’t stand still, couldn’t stop wondering. Why all this now? Why not years ago?

But he knew he couldn’t afford to think like that. A victim mindset got you nowhere with war games. He was to deal with this head on, like chess. Kill or be killed. But most of all—keep your wits about you.

The light near the Entrance flickered, like the entire castle was uneasy with the things unsaid. Seungmin didn’t doubt it whatsoever. An ancient castle has more than likely seen one too many battles, lost one too many parts of itself to cruel magic.

“There was a reading. A telling one. The Minister came and talked to us about it.”

Chan shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, strong arms folding over an equally sculpted chest. He was aware of this, everyone wouldn’t seem to stop talking about it the other day. But what about it?

“Did Han wrongly predict someone’s death again?” He asked humorously, but was greeted with a grim smile.

“It would’ve been preferred,” the Prefect agrees solemnly. “But no. He predicted a war instead.”

The captain’s eyes widened, a throaty chuckle considered answer enough. When the other boy didn’t laugh back, though, Chan got worried.

“Good one, Seungmin, yeah?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Oh, come on, man!” He tried again, this time more desperately. “It’s the twenty-first century. Wars are a thing of the past.”

The Ravenclaw nodded at that. He would’ve even agreed in the morning, before everything. But now—now was no time for doubt. For hesitation.

“I don’t suppose it will be a war with Giants and bloodshed, Chan. They’re infiltrating the Ministry. Once they take over, they’ll fight us with laws and regulations. I imagine the Death Eater clan will be freed, and their kids made pawns for their interests.”

It was too much, all at once. Chan had a plan, a premeditated life. National, then international. Captain of the Gryffindor team for now, then a Warrior. Holding the Cup, every single time, blood rushing through his veins, adrenaline getting him higher on his broomstick, crowds cheering, his team proud, proud, proud—

You. Next to him.

Not this. Certainly. For fuck’s sake.

“What are you fucking saying, Kim?” He rasped, too shocked to make sense of anything. Surely this was a mistake, a miscalculation, an error.

Chan had dreams, ambitions. He could leave this country right now and not have to deal with any of it. It would set him back—a whole fucking lot—to not graduate, to not bring one last cup to his House, but trials for the Wollogong Warriors started in six months, and if he trained consistently enough, perhaps he could—

But who was he kidding? Because of who he was, he’d have to stay. Fight. Protect. Changbin getting left behind, the Gryffindors, his team, you—he couldn’t afford that. He would never let it happen. Because it’s him, Bang Chan the King, the butterbeer pong extraordinaire, Hogwarts’ most valuable athlete, the one that would make it big, the guy everyone trusted, respected, counted on.

“Danger,” a familiar Ravenclaw voice behind him replied. “This means we’re in danger.”

tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @streetlight-s, @koorminii, @j-0ne25, @hellishmoons, @lix-ables, @americanokisses, @danyxthirstae01, @she-wintersoldat, @fa3body, @seungschacco, @heeseung-lover686, @heetr, @arieslost, @skz317cb97, @moasworld, @hebii666, @rindomo, @imsuchasimp00, @woozarts, @taeriffic, @chanlovesme.

NO REPOSTING/STEALING. hwan-g™️

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separatist-apologist · 1 month

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so i was recently reading the end of ACOSF where Cassian is talking to Eris and like in my opinion characterizing Eris for the first time explicitly in cannon and I was just reminded of you. Specifically how well you have accurately characterized him. Not that you need to "accurately" characterize a character in fanfiction (in my opinion cannon is ACOTAR is hard to conceptualize "correctly" anyway but I digress) but either way you do it particularly well with Eris in a way that I haven't seen and I feel like a lot of the fandom is missing.

i struggle myself with trying to make the characterization like as accurate as possible and consistent so idk you inspire me. 💖🥰

also speaking of Eris could we get a little sneak peek of the Roman AU because that literally has been all I can think about for days. no pressure of course

I would do anything you asked from me first of all, but when you preface it with THAT???? Whatever you like!

“I’ll answer anything you ask of me,” Lucien agreed, offering her his bare arm rather selfishly. He just needed to know if her skin was as soft as it looked. She beamed up at him, the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life, and accepted. Her fingers were warm, gliding over his bare bicep without a care in the world. What would she look like adorned in gold, he wondered?

“How are you enjoying yourself?” he asked before she could get one of her own questions out. He didn’t need to answer anything if he did all the talking.

She considered his question and only after her silence stretched did Lucien consider that she did not speak Latin as well as he thought. He gave her space, walking her over a careful, stone laid path around the olive grove.

“Your hospitality has been generous,” she began carefully, fingers fidgeting in the pleats of her dress. “I’m sure Arina and I would be fine living somewhere on our own—”

“Who will protect you?” Lucien demanded, getting close to the question he was most interested in. “Two unmarried women shouldn’t be alone in the city.” She nodded, not disputing his words.

Lucien pounced. “You’re not married?” She glanced up at him, eyes narrowing. “No, I’m not married.” “Why?”

She took a breath. “I have a fiance—”

“A what?”She murmured something under breath in a language he didn’t understand. I forgot french hasn’t been invented yet. He didn’t like that Britanic language—it was too harsh, too angry to be coming out of such lovely lips.

and for fun:

She was nearly at the door when he called out, “‘Che cazzo.’ What does it mean?”

His Italian wasn’t awful—certainly less offensive than when Graysen had bid her a good day in the choppiest drawl she’d ever heard in her life. Arina knew better than to tell him the truth, and yet…

“Capitium,” she said, using the Latin for little head as Eris’s expression darkened. Dick. She could call a man a dick in every language.

Pleased with herself, Arina attempted to flounce from the room, satisfied she’d at least cut Eris down to size. It didn’t solve any of her problems but it did make her feel better.

She was nearly to the hall when strong fingers wrapped around her bare arm, pulling her back flush against his chest.

Lowering his mouth to her ear, Eris murmured, “The next time you reference my cock, I’ll assume you’re asking to see it.” “You disgust me,” she whispered without thinking.

He only chuckled, low and soft. He smelled nice, a mix of spices she didn’t immediately recognize. Shouldn’t all men reek of body odor?

This one, especially, ought to smell like sewage given how handsome his face was. “I’ll bet you’d say that on your knees.”

Arina elbowed him roughly in the ribs, certain he would do nothing but let her go.

#forgive me for taking some modern liberties but i will NOT be making them talk like cicero

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welcome-to-green-hills · 9 months

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how do you think they’ll tackle Maria’s character in the 3rd movie? Do you think they’ll make her appear frequently or rarely?

Hello, my dear!❤️✨

I’m terribly sorry for taking so long on your ask. I wanted to make sure that my thoughts and feelings were clear for my answer. I feel that there will be a healthy amount of Maria Robotnik content in the third film. What “healthy amount” means exactly is up for your interpretation.

Throughout the years, we're given a sample of Maria and who she is through video games and TV shows. She doesn't necessarily make big appearances, but we've learned plenty of the little girl that grew up on the Space Colony ARK. With various game titles and character interactions, we see that Maria Robotnik plays a significantly large role in people's lives. She might not get a whole lot of screen time in general, but we—as the audience—can feel how beloved and cared for she was with others. We can feel her pure love and support emitted by found family members, ARK scientists, and others that watched her grow up. Even Sonic, who was born fifty years after the ARK raids by G.U.N., valued her immensely (Sonic Channel Story, 2021). We can painfully see the love that is generously given to a 12-year-old girl. This shows that one or two sentences (I.E. Sonic Battle, Gerald's Journal), or even a flashback is just as fruitful in conveying her purpose of existence and her golden heart.

I can completely understand and appreciate where you are coming from. For a character that makes minor appearances here and there, it's incredible seeing how much her legacy is cared for by those that are still living... and how fans view her. It's It's only fitting that we buy into curiosity and explore her character more. We must understand that Maria Robotnik is important. It's crucial to see how much of an influence she makes to core characters in the third film.

In game canon, we can conclude that nearly everything that occurs has an influence with Maria in mind. Project Shadow almost didn't happen if it weren't for Maria being diagnosed with Neuro-Immuno Deficiency Syndrome (NIDs). If Prof. Gerald Robotnik was not given the opportunity by the United Federations to seek the answers of immortality, then there wouldn't be a strong drive to desperately use government funding to finish making Shadow in order to find a cure to NIDs. Without the compassion and humanity that Maria gives to Shadow, our hedgehog-alien hybrid would most definitely have viewed himself as an artificial weapon. He wouldn't bat an eye on the possibility of being a relatively good person if the idea was not proposed to him. Without Maria, Prof. Gerald Robotnik would never have had the inspiration needed to craft Shadow's soul like Maria's. Without Maria's horrific death, the crippling insanity that Prof. Gerald Robotnik faces would not have been a driving influence to reprogram Shadow's mind to carry out revenge on the planet. This is malicious act that did more harm that good to a literal adolescent if you think about it. And without Maria's entire existence, we might not have the understanding on Dr. Robotnik/Eggman's influence of becoming a mad scientist today.

The third Sonic movie needs establish how beloved Maria was when she alive. The fantastic thing about these movies is that they've left enough wriggle room with subplots (it's heavily implied that Longclaw and her people have engaged with humans and Earth frequently), character interactions (Dr. Robotnik and Agent Stone talking about aspirations of continuing an evil plan that were planned years ago, implying that the United States government knew about aliens and the Chaos Emeralds), and other possibilities (Green Hills, Montana having a Wachowski look after the town for over 50 years; all of the town's memorabilia implying that it's residents were retired government veterans) for us to weave the past into a perfect timeline. Even if Jim Carrey doesn't return to reprise the role of "Dr. Robotnik," we can see that his plans for world domination are honored with Prof. Gerald Robotnik in mind. Agent Stone would acting upon a dead man's wish.

I think that when I say a "healthy amount," I mean that there's enough for us to fill gaps in for places that need them. I hope that this answers your question, my dear.

#sonic movie #sonic movie 3 #Maria Robotnik #Shadow the Hedgehog #Movie!Maria Robotnik #Movie!Shadow #mystery anon #off topic

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augment-techs · 1 month

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PR UNFAVORITE CHARACTER RANT! GO!!!

Okay, let's start with the live action and work our way into the comics:

MMPR--Turbo: I'm sorry Jason, you are so boring and basic, I wasn't that sorry to see you go. At least Rocky had half a personality.

Dulcea; because there was no reason for her to wear that wardrobe and I kind of hate her for being a little creepy with the teenage boys. Mr. Stewart; I never once saw him in canon, which really just makes me hate him more for not surrendering his parental rights so Justin could be legally emancipated and move in with literally any of the older Rangers.

Jerome Stone: FUCK YOU FOR NOT NOTICING BULK AND SKULL WERE MISSING AND SHOWED MORE FEELING FOR THE CHIMPS THAN FOR THE YOUNG ADULTS!! Alpha 6:--tell me I'm not the only one that wanted to shoot him in the head each time he spoke.

Professor Phenomenus...Why is he here.

In Space: ...Andros before Zhane came alive. The whole time he was a prick, but at least Zhane offset that behavior.

Lost Galaxy: Trakeena's dad is disgusting for forcing the transformation on his daughter. And all the rest, but especially that.

Lightspeed Rescue: Jinxer, Vypra, Loki--why are any of you here?

Time Force: Mr. Collins throughout 90% of the season can go fuck himself. Also Alex in the second half of the season. Also...can I count the entire civilization of the 31st Century? Like, this is kind of fucked up.

Wild Force: I hate you Animus, I hate you Shayla, I hate you Master Org.

Ninja Storm: ......................Unfavorite is a biiiiit of the stretch, but I can I give you a total lack of feeling for Hunter and Blake and call it a day? Also Choobo, but that's just because he's kind of irritating.

Dino Thunder: ...Wow, this is gonna make me look bad, but for the sake of answering the question as truthfully as possible...Dr. Oliver. I'm sorry, but Tommy here was purely for filler and his haircut fills me with boiling rage. Especially during the Frozen in Place and Invisible to the camera episodes. Fuck right off, please.

SPD: ....Birdy was meaningless. But I also dislike Doggie when he's such a fucking self-important prick that needs to be kicked in the dick by Kat. So...59% of the time.

Mystic Force: Please don't kill me, but...Udonna IMMEDIATELY after she found out Nick was her son. Like, I get it, she got her child back, her husband is still under mind control and out in the world, she's on cloud nine. But this makes her look really, really, really insensitive. And presumptuous. Every time she called him Bowen I felt a little bit violent.

Operation Overdrive: Andrew Hartford can take a red hot poker up his entire ass. I haven't finished the season yet, but ideally, Spencer would get a divorce from him and full custody of Mack.

Jungle Fury: ...Dom is a perfectly nice guy, but he is so very boring that half of the people that watched this season forget he exists. And I am one of them. I also hate that they hooked him up with Fran. NO.

RPM: Colonel Truman. Especially when he pulled a gun on Dr. K. Who is a CHILD. He lost ALLLLLLLLLL respect at that moment.

Samurai: *picks up a rifle and sets it up in a sniper's nest* Mentor Ji. Not an actual mentor. Just someone who maintains the status quo for the sake of "honor" and "tradition" and all those other terrible terrible things that basically guarantee no Red Ranger ever made it to forty.

Dino Charge: James Navarro is a fucking deadbeat. I don't care if he stopped aging and was tasked with great power, he's a fucking dickhead.

Ninja Steel: I don't care for Redbot. He's a sweetie, but I do not care about him in any meaningful capacity. Also Dane Romero is kind of a waste of...any meaningful screen time.

Beast Morphers: Steel Silva is wonderful as a robot, but I failed to see the point of turning him into a human. Also, can I register the Heteronormative Romance EVERYTHING to do with Zoey and Nate as an Unfavorite Character? It seems tangible enough that it's its own entity.

Dino Fury/Cosmic Fury: Santaura's monster form was awesome, but I very very squicked when I found out she was heavily pregnant in Cosmic Fury--like, how? Also Zayto is a little bit too much in one season and a little too little in another. Ollie is oddly safer from me when he's a single entity or evil or unlocked from evil--or right next to Aiyon and nowhere near Amelia. This could be your fault. Boom! Comics: HAAAAAAAAAAA, we are in for a wild ride.

Drakkon from being broken out of his prison dimension and all the way up to being shot in the chest by Ranger Slayer. He was great in Shattered Grid and the early comics, but very little else. I am sorry, but the minute he got that haircut, he became extremely annoying.

I know we are supposed to be sympathetic to Kiya's plight. We are supposed to be aware that she has been fucked over every which way. But the second she turned to murder and made everything worse because she couldn't control herself or seek help for her PTSD? Buh-bye.

Marleau Eskin is the supreme bitch that doesn't realize she's in an action adventure series and while I hate her, I kind of wish she'd come back and give the Rangers more things to deal with as actual teenagers.

Dayne was interesting for a moment, but I really don't see why they keep bringing him back. I get he makes an excellent excuse for lore dump, but...

Dark Specter is the most boring cosmic entity that has ever graced these pages and he also was the one that turned Coinless Zack and Skull into Lava Zombies. And worse than that, he used Skull as a his own personal Viewing Globe before assigning him the task of letting the other zombies into the Coinless base before he got decked by Bulk. Also he steals children to use them as vessels. Also he apparently is the reason Rito Revulto is a walking skeleton and an idiot.

Last but certainly not least: Finster. An actual, factual murderer who killed his wife and ritually resurrects her only to kill her again when she shows fear of him every single time. That's not getting into the shit he pulls experimenting to create new monsters and what he probably helped Drakkon do to Goldar, Baboo, and Squatt. Of all the characters on this list, I hate him most of all.

#boom! comics power rangers #power rangers #ask fill #prompt fill #all of my least favorites and unfavorites in one place

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bbygirl-aemond · 1 year

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you mentioned in your post about alyn and addam’s heritage about the blood correlating with commanding dragons.

so you mean that since they have less targaryen blood they can command their dragons less? how would that work with daenerys?

i always took it as less of they can’t control their dragons and more of showing that dragons are still sentient beings with their own thoughts and wills so it’s interesting to see other peoples thoughts on the storms end scene.

bc i don’t think “controlling” your dragon is as cut and dry as a lot of people make it out to be. it’s not like mind control. idk i’m always intrigued to hear your thoughts on stuff.

This actually brings me to a point I've been wanting to make for a while! Daenerys's bond with her dragons is not a dragon-rider bond as we see with all previous Targaryens. Remember that dragons did not choose to serve House Targaryen; they were forced to by magic. In a way, they're just a cog in the machine of slavery that was Old Valyria. It's actually more significant for Daenerys not to have enough Targaryen blood to rely upon this old magic, because it means her dragons are not slaves to blood magic. They don't serve her because they're forced to; they serve her because they want to. Why? Because she's their mother. Let's discuss:

Daenerys is tied to her dragons in several different ways that are all very deliberately unrelated to her having Targaryen blood. This is again meant to emphasize and re-emphasize that we are not looking at a Targaryen dragon-rider bond, but something else entirely. Something new.

First, Daenerys hatches her eggs in a blood ritual that she completes intuitively. This is literally unheard of. Countless other Targaryens (Aegon II, Aegon III, Viserys II, Aegon V, Duncan, Aerys II, etc.), all with many times more concentrated blood than Daenerys, have tried and failed. I mean, Aegon V and Duncan literally died trying to hatch eggs. Before Daenerys, the only thing that ever hatched a dragon egg was its dragon parent. Even in Old Valyria it's unheard of. So Daenerys was able to hatch her dragons, to literally bring them to life, and not because of her Targaryen blood.

Second, Daenerys literally breastfeeds her dragons in the books. Like, she's still producing milk because of her recent birth, and right after the baby dragons hatch she puts their mouths to her breasts and they actually drink her milk. Again, no Targaryen has ever done this, not even back in Valyria. This is just another way that Daenerys's bond to her dragons is separated from her Targaryen blood and predecessors.

Third, Daenerys is more likely than not meant to be Azor Ahai, or the Prince(ss) Who Was Promised. Think of Melisandre's description of Azor Ahai: "born again amidst salt and smoke to wake dragons out of stone." Daenerys is called "Stormborn" for a reason; she was born in salt and smoke. And she woke three dragons out of fossilized (stone) eggs. Azor Ahai is tied to super old magic that predates the Targaryens and even Old Valyria: the Empire of Ghis. So let's add this to the list of ways in which Daenerys's relationship to her dragons is specifically contrasted against Targaryens.

Lastly, Daenerys is specifically meant to be like the anti-Targaryen. She's set up as the Breaker of the Wheel, with the Wheel literally being created by Aegon the Conqueror and the Targaryen Dynasty. She is distant enough from the hellhole that was Old Valyria, and she grew up underprivileged enough, that she has things like empathy and understanding for the smallfolk that we've never seen from Targaryens in power before. So of course her bond with dragons would be different from the Targaryens who came before her. Everything about her is meant to be different from those who came before her; that's the entire point of her character arc so far.

TLDR: Daenerys isn't a dragon rider in the sense of a Targaryen dragon rider. She isn't relying on the Valyrian blood magic that all of our faves in HotD are relying on. That's what makes her so powerful, and so unique: her power over dragons is not because of her Targaryen blood, but in spite of it.

For who else but the Breaker of Chains would wield the power of dragons not because she forced them, but because she loved them and let them choose her first?

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #daenerys #house targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #got #game of thrones #asoiaf #got meta #meta #hotd meta #asoiaf meta

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animemaniac21 · 1 month

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WHY I HATE TIME REGRESSION TROPE IN ANIME

#AN OPINION BLOG

SPOILER ALERTS !!!!

This is my first opinion blog, or simply a rant you will, but if you have completed Solo Leveling and Dr. Stone, bear with me on this one. Recently I found an anime called Aiyou’s Secret Room, a mystery thriller based on escape rooms, and since the 1st episode, it hooked me on itself. The characters, the plot, everything was thrilling! At that time, 15 episodes were released, and with each episode, I was awe-stricken, the mystery deepening, with no easy solution; made it all the more interesting! The hole of mystery dug in Episode 1 had become an endless abyss by then! So, I binged watch them in a day, and waited, for the final one to be released. The finale- where all threads of mystery will be untangled! And today, it was released. So, how was my experience? Well…now, I’m no author but lemme tell you, if you are writing a story and at the end of it you leave a major plot point unexplained…much less what is the centre plot around which the story revolves, and also move your protagonist back to square one, on the name of taking the story to a ‘full circle’, then regardless of how great and thrilling the story has been, it will all go down the drain. Unless there’s a season 2, but there weren’t any details to be found.

And here’s where I rest my argument. Regressions. The ‘back to square one’ trope. Sorry, but I hate them. Why? Cause going back to square one literally defeats the purpose of the story’s development! All progress is lost. Is it that hard to understand?

Let’s take Dr. Stone for example. The manga is finished, and when it was ongoing, I awaited every week for another fabulous chapter. The story may have a lot of cliché tropes, but it doesn’t disappoint on its very central theme- science in a stone world. How Senku develops modern science once again along with other scientists even in a world of primitives. Its science is top-notch, and so are the adventures. So, what about its ending? Well…

The plot is driven by the mystery of petrification itself, and with each turn it deepens. Until ultimately, in the final arc, it is revealed- that the petrification devices are aliens?! The entire moon arc was ‘maybe’ too rushed, and for the entire thing to develop into this, it also felt weird. But alright, this may be my opinion only, but man, when the in the last chapter Senku decides to create a FUCKING TIME MACHINE, trying to return to 5000 years in past, I lost it. Wait, so what about the present? What about Kohaku, Chrome or Suika? What about going to the future together? Won’t they just disappear? What’s the point?

Solo Leveling. It was thrilling. Every chapter. Up until the end, I remained in a thrill, what would happen, how will he win, will he die? But what our protagonist does? Reverses time itself so that everyone forgets his existence and he goes back to square one, of course with all his powers, so that he could redo it overall! I mean, from the audience’s point, all the development that happened, is lost. What makes Solo Leveling so thrilling is this growth of our weak protagonist, and now what? At the other end, he is just an overpowered ‘all-knowing’ protagonist.

This ‘all-knowing’ is so damn annoying. Now, many fantasy manga/manhwas start with the MC returning to the past to solve the problem all over. This leaves us with an ‘all-knowing’ MC and no mystery is left. A reincarnation is different; you go to a distant future. But overpowered cause you are a ‘know it all’?

Let’s compare it to an anime like, let’s say Tokyo Revengers. Regressions are its plot, the protagonist’s power. He corrects the past to get a better future, but mysteriously the future just worsens. Tokyo Revengers doesn’t put a ‘know it all’ ‘correcting the past’ MC on the plate, but an intriguing MC with some mystery entangling him and the past. Its plot is delivered well, unlike the other regression fantasies.

But that can just be my preference, cause these regressions to correct the past making a ‘know it all’ MC is still a well-received trope. But Dr Stone or Solo Leveling? Heck no! Pulling that shit on end, destroying all the ‘development’, back to square one, WHY?

This distaste that I held for these tropes is just reignited with Aiyou’s Secret Room, and unless anyone can confirm there’s more to the story, my advice: please don’t waste your time watching it.

Or any such story for that matter!

PS: I uploaded this blog a year back, but since I thought I might share all my blogs on other platforms like Tumblr, so I thought to post this one first 😅

#opinion #anime #anime blog #opinion blog #time regression #anime tropes #solo leveling #drstone #aiyou de mishi

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caatws · 1 year

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i’m back to yell again bitch! why are characters grieving vision vs gamora treated so differently by both mcu canon and fandom???

i’ve been saying for the past 5 years how, when ppl blame peter for the avengers losing in iw when he lost his cool on titan after hearing thanos literally killed gamora, it’s hypocritical for these ppl to not also blame wanda and the other avengers, bc them delaying sacrificing vision to the literal last minute also directly contributed to thanos winning.

while vision had put wanda in the position to sacrifice him and she said no, gamora had also put peter in that very same position—and he said yes. and he was gonna do it, even though it pained him. wanda was only ready to do it when their backs were fully, completely, against the wall, and it was literally the final thing standing between them and thanos getting all 6 stones.

while my problem for years has been the lack of equally blaming wanda while blaming peter for behaving out of the same motivations—acting out of love for their partners, who were reduced to thanos’ pawns, and wanting to defend/avenge them—now considering everything else going on with gamora in the time since, there’s an extra layer to this that just has me...hm.

when wanda and the others act on behalf of their love, and eventually grief, for a white male character...it’s understandable, it’s valid, it’s relatable, it’s fine.

but any time peter has acted on behalf of his love and grief for a woc character...it’s treated as the reason thanos won and half the universe died. it’s considered an impediment to other characters, even in his own team who also once called gamora their family. it’s still relatable and understandable, but it is emphasized as an obstacle to overcome in a way that i don’t think wanda’s love and grief ever was.

wanda’s grief was so complex, so tangible, it spawned a whole show abt the ways we grieve and how it can become a dangerous part of our lives. and in the end, we’re made to sympathize with wanda still.

peter’s grief has still gotten its moments, but it’s been treated as a solitary experience the rest of the gotg don’t partake in, for whatever reason. when his grief causes him to act destructively or disruptively, it’s not given the “i support women’s wrongs” empathy by fandom. sure, it’s still made out to be something we can sympathize or even empathize with—but there’s a certain grace given to wanda and her occasionally villainous actions, motivated by her grief, that i’ve just never rly seen given to peter when he fucked up the fight against thanos.

frankly, i don’t know exactly what this means. is it yet another byproduct of both audiences and marvel studios themselves prioritizing and upholding the avengers franchise over the gotg? probably, in part. is it bc w*ndavision is a more profitable ship and (white) wanda is a more profitable character to explore the complex emotional turmoil of? oh, i’m sure that’s an element at play. is it bc ppl like (white) wanda more than peter? that’s definitely part of it and comes as a surprise to no one.

is it an intentional disparity in canon about how much a white character deserves to be grieved vs a woc character? i don’t work at marvel so i could never prove or disprove this with certainty.....but i think it’s an awfully interesting element to consider, bc regardless of intentions, it sure has a certain....impact.

it sure just leaves a Taste in my mouth abt what makes a character more or less worthy of grief than another. when vision died, wanda could uproot the very fabric of the universe in her grief and we maybe want to root for her. when gamora died, peter simply reacted in the moment, and suddenly he’s the worst character in the mcu and the sole reason that an entirely separate character, the actual abuser and murderer, killed half the universe and now we have to hold peter accountable for it like lmao bro???

#long post #everyone who's been following me since the iw days....y'all are the real ones for still putting up with my occasional essays abt it #thank you 😭 truly.#madi.txt #the gamora situation

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tomyo-chan

It's just like honey

mkb-lesbisch

Unbetitelt

tomyo-chan

It's just like honey

tomyo-chan

It's just like honey

hafura

hafuRa