#You Who Cannot See Think Of Those Who Can

[nina-ya]

A/N: i was a little sappy writing this one ngl idk I just love law so much LMAO Pairing: Law x reader CW: none, mild backstory spoilers if you squint WC: ~800 Other versions: Luffy Zoro Sanji Law (more to come) • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

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Loving Law is not easy. It’s not supposed to be. He’s all sharp edges haphazardly taped and glued together, just waiting to fall apart at a moments notice. Every glance feels calculated, like he’s already three steps ahead in some mental game of chess that only he knows the rules to. But once you become a part of his life, once you’ve proven that you deserve his trust and care, you’re under his protection in ways that you may never fully understand.

Loving Law is falling in love with the ocean at night. It’s unpredictable, dark, but there’s a certain beauty in the unknown that is him. He won’t admit it, but he will always catch you before you fall. Not because he’s trying to be a hero, but because losing anyone else is something he cannot quite handle. His love comes in the forms of subtle checks such as a quiet “don’t overexert yourself,” a lingering glance that asks if you are okay, or a warm coat tossed your wat in the middle of a cold night. He’s practical, pragmatic, but never indifferent. 

Loving Law is accepting that he doesn’t need to be saved, but sometimes he will let you stand beside him as the waves crash over him. He will let you in just enough to feel the weight that is constantly pushing down on him, but never so much that you think he’s burdening you. But you’re there to remind him that being strong doesn’t mean carrying everything on his own. 

Loving Law is loving someone who sees the world through a lens of strategy and survival. His love doesn’t come with flowery speeches or romantic gestures- it comes with an almost obsessive need to keep you alive. He ensures you have what you need and he never asks for thanks. He doesn’t need it. 

But then when you break through those hard walls he had built around his heart from loss after loss, you get to explore a much more vulnerable side to him. You get to learn about the despair that he has been put through, all of the rough battles he has fought to get to this point, everything that makes Law, well, Law. It’s not easy for him to do, and you can see this in the way he chooses each word carefully as if they may betray him. But when this does happen, you realize that there is a strength among the vulnerability, a wordless trust that comes from knowing that you wont use it against him.

And when he opens up, even if its just for a moment, you realize that he is not just giving you his trust, but he is giving you everything. Every piece of himself he thought was lost, every part of him that he thought was too broken to be loved, it’s all there, in the space between his words and the look in his eyes. And you couldn’t be more grateful to be the one he shares it with.

Loving Law is knowing that it may take some time to get through to him, but when you do, its more than perfect. There is a heightened intensity in the simplest of gestures such as the way his fingers graze over yours, the warmth of his hand resting at the small of your back, or the way that he presses his forehead against you staring into your eyes with a look that screams ‘i cherish you’ without having to utter a single word.

When his lips finally meet yours, its as if the whole world screeches to a halt. There is no rush, no frantic urgency, just a slow deliberate tenderness as if he is memorizing every inch of your mouth, the softness of your lips. The way he tilts your chin up, deepening the kiss with an inhale as if he needs to breathe you in. His hands are firm, one cupping your face while the other rests on your waist, keeping you close to him. His hands, calloused from years of battle, move with a surprising softness when he’s with you, as if he’s afraid of breaking something precious.

Loving Law is finding safety in vulnerability. It’s the knowledge that while he may keep the world at arms length, he lets you in piece by piece until he allows himself to be fragile in your presence. It’s the softness that only you see in him, the way his hands tremble slightly when they brush over your skin, the way his lips can express so much in the soft presses against yours, the promise that despite all the loss he has endured, he will never let you go.

[mullermilkshake]

Yandere's meet their Darling.

Satoru Gojo

Satoru knows he's amazing and incredible, he doesn't need to hear it to know it's true. Everybody loves him, except you. A person who denies any feelings towards him, enamoured or otherwise.

So naturally, Satoru is drawn to you.

Initially, he just observes and wonders what makes you so different and why you never fall in line like the rest of them. His infatuation first begins as an inconvenience. You inconvenience him. He can get any person he likes and toss them away like trash in a landfill whenever he pleases. But you do not allow that.

You are not interested in his subtle advances, you don't even allow him to catch you staring in his direction. Because you do the opposite, in fact for a moment, it's like you try your hardest to ignore him.

Satoru does not like being ignored.

The little signs of his interest soon become stronger and the inconvenience morphs into an odd interest about you. You're pretty, that's for sure, funny too, everything he looks for in a person he'd want to speak to on a more intimate level.

But Satoru can't stand the fact that when he expressed his feelings about you, in an appropriate manner too, you turned him down. It was pure madness. Whoever disregards his feelings are utterly insane and stupidly stupid. Well, other people, but not you.

Despite your protests, he will never think badly of you. Ever.

Satoru sees this as a game now. You don't want him, but he wants you and it's certain that you are his object of affection. He will find out how you are immune to his pretty face, his lovable charm and his outstanding morals.

You don't know it just yet, but he will have you.

Whatever Satoru wants, he gets.

Suguru Geto

Suguru daydreams over the first time seeing you. Your bravery and insensitive cursing that left your lips without batting an eyelid. You still do.

Your spirit is strong, overwhelming to those who don’t know you because you cannot be broken. Suguru takes that as a challenge, to break you down bit by bit in anyway he can, while still remaining faithfully at your side just like his other fellow sorcerers.

Before Suguru decides to leave the side of purity and defending the weak, he wants you to join him. There’s no way you ever will whilst your ideals remain as pure as Satoru’s hair.

Suguru would rather just rip off the bandaid and take you away, but there’s plenty to do before he can even do it. He wants to use his cursed spirits and get rid of the vile monkeys, but he waits. Another agonising year to be correct.

Suguru waits until he’s past the age of eighteen, he’s an adult now, as are you. That means that no one can tell him what to do and you are capable of making your own choices. The last year has been torturous for Suguru, silently filling your head with nonsensical bullshit and at first, it doesn’t work, but then it does.

At first you prefer to sit next to Suguru, then study with him and then allow him to walk you home after the winter nights get darker for longer.

Then because of Suguru’s well ingrained methods, you even go to kiss him. He receives you and knows now, that it’s time to indoctrinate you.

You are the only person Suguru wants next to him when he steps foot into the new world.

And now he's moulded you just for that.

Kento Nanami

Kento can’t believe his luck when he sees you at the gates of Jujutsu high. He already sees you outside of work in the little convenience store you work in, your shifts being every Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and every second Saturday. The store’s bread is currently the top on his list of regular items.

There’s just something different about you. There is indeed, a magnetic pull that keeps Kento coming back despite how terrible the other food items are.

You serve him with a smile, always a smile and it never falters. Sometime’s Kento is lucky enough to get a brush of your fingertip across his own finger during the exchange of money.

Imagine his surprise when he sees you, wandering up to the red Torii gate with a little piece of paper in your hand, you smile faded away and eyes so tired. Kento hates it that your smile has gone and later learns that it’s in fact a cursed spirit hurting you. And by chance, Kento was recommended to exorcise it.

You don’t know it’s a cursed spirit of course, just that Kento is apparently a masseuse and the lady who recommends her is the very same from that sandwich shop Kento used to frequent.

Fate has its way.

Kento knows this was meant to be and will do his best to give you comfort and continue to be the gentleman he always is. To be the respectful and trustworthy man you will call in a time of need, in fact you already have.

Accept now, you know his name. You also accepted an invitation to dinner.

Now that Kento is in your life, it’ll be rather difficult to have him exit it.

That won’t happen as long as he has a pulse.

Ryomen Sukuna

Roman Sukuna has never experienced shock, or surprise before, not until you waltz into his field of vision. Practically a carbon copy of the only person he loved during the golden age of Jujutsu.

Love is a weak emotion, but then again, it's an emotion all the same.

During the Heian ear, that person was a witch, a trickster, perhaps that's why he admires that person and it's entirely possible why he eats his words the second he spots you. Watching from a distance is all he can do for now until his brain resets itself and allows him to collect what a drooling mess he is.

Of course, he never admits it.

You by lineage, obviously a descendent are his to claim without protest from your lips. He watches you whilst he inhabits Yuji Itadori's body, noting your facial expressions, how you talk and they way you fiddle with your hair just right.

He will have you even if you don't agree, if you turn around and fight him because for the first time since his reincarnation, Sukuna senses a shift in his priorities. He hates it, shedding even a scrap of vulnerability, but that's how the world works.

Vulnerability makes people weak and he does not show it, not even allowing that punk to go through those types of memories he holds close. They are his alone and that's that.

Ripping out this body's heart could prove a useful tool to prove to you how high his affections lie, what better way to show it than giving you a still beating heart? But you strike him as the type of person who would not be that way.

You seem to be the type who enjoyed the rougher side, the raw energy of his intentions, forcefulness and unwavering perseverance.

Either way, you're coming with Sukuna when all is done and he fulfils his role as the king of curses and takes his rightful place burning the world.

With you right by his side whether you like it or not.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji Couldn't care less when he saw you.

You were nothing. A weak person with not much going for you besides having Jujutsu high as a security blanket. He originally had been watching Satoru Gojo, waiting for him to drop his guard, he noticed you too and thought nothing of it.

Then, he stands no more than six feet in front of you, you're hurting, breathing erratically with so much blood up your arms yet still standing there to face him. Even though you just watched Satoru Gojo die by his hand, he was still there on the floor with the gigantic laceration in his neck.

Still, you didn't take your eyes off of Toji, and for the first time, it stirs something up inside him. Why are you, an upperclassman even doing with these kids? Toji does his homework and you have four years on them, is it to lead by example?

You aren't setting a very good one, picking a fight with someone much stronger than you in every way, but you still remain there, ready to take Toji on. He wants to ask you , why? How can someone be so stupid to see a man, who is your cocky underclassman and much stronger than you by far get his shit pushed in and still want to take him on?

You just stand there, trying your best to control what little hope you have left. But it isn't enough, it never is. Toji overpowers you like a butter knife to soft flaky fish, holding you in his grip whilst you struggle to make things inconvenient for him.

You don't make a dent though.

Toji has other plans than killing you like he did Satoru Gojo, he just isn't sure what those plans entail, but he'll find out soon enough.

Choso

Choso's head is splitting as he wanders through the train station, trying his best to input the new information and store it somewhere without frying his brain. He's overwhelmed and unsure of where his footing lies. A hole to crawl into seems like the best idea, until he can mull over this sense of horrid sickness.

That's until he turns the corner and sees you running past him, almost colliding into each other. You stop and look at him as he holds fast and tries his best to keep the tears from falling over his cheeks.

He looks at you and you him, and if it isn't bad enough that his head threatens to explode, images of you plague what little brain space is functional, tripping his entire head.

What Choso does not know, in this moment, was that he was imprinting on you, filling the blanks of his memories and slotting you right where you should be. He needs to protect you at all costs, because if he doesn't you are sure to die just like his brothers.

You are special. Despite what side you are on, you even ask him if he is alright. What person on the opposing side does that? You do that. You are the saving grace amongst the sorcerer's and showed him kindness.

Choso must keep you safe and not allow anyone to touch or harm you. He was not there for his brothers and he will be damned now if he doesn't protect you in their stead.

Little does he know, that he is just on the first step to becoming obsessed and infatuated with you, and will stop at nothing to keep you right where you are.

Even if it kills him.

Hiromi Higuruma

Hiromi first meets you as one of his clients, accused of murder you did not commit.

He knows you're innocent, he just knows it, the look of your innocent features as you walk through the door to the two way glass to ask for help. So innocent and doe eyed as you sit there across the desk practically begging him to help.

Of course he'll help, it's what he does best when his clients are against the odds. Conviction in Japan exceeds ninety nine percent for a reason. So he decides to help and offers his services pro bono. It's for the greater good of the public after all. Putting your pretty face behind bars is a travesty.

Your aura is simple, dainty and warm. Hiromi wants nothing more than to protect you, to look after you and nurse you from the legal system that has targeted you.

Because there is no way that you are hiding anything from him. He can just tell.

Whilst the prosecution builds a case, Hiromi does everything he can to make your stay where you are kept as comfortable as possible. Soon, he doesn't just come to see you to speak about the case, he also regularly comes to see you just to spend time before returning home.

It should never be a case that he fell for you while accused of such a horrible crime, but he can't help himself. He can never help himself. His thoughts on how you'll jump for joy and have no choice but to stay with him after out of a sense of duty for pulling off the impossible are continuous.

Either that of he will just ask you out himself until you do.

After all, as an attorney, it's his job to push for all the facts to get the outcome he desires.

[mononijikayu]

i have love and dreams too — gojo satoru.

Yuji looked down at his hands, feeling a strange sense of guilt. “Do you really think… you can never have that life you want?” Satoru didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed his eyes, letting the wind ruffle his silver hair. For a moment, he was just Satoru—not the strongest, not the invincible sorcerer, but a man burdened by the life he had to lead. “I don’t know, Yuji……” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But I like to dream that maybe, someday… we could all disappear. And live. Just live.  Just me, my wife, Megumi, Tsumiki, Satoshi… away from everything. Living in peace.”

WARNING/S: spoilers for chapter 271 of jjk (spoilers at your behest), domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 6.8k words.

NOTE: i rush wrote this at uni, at the restaurant i was at and then a car on the way back and forth from uni and home. i just started crying profusely because i hated how jjk ended. and i hated that panel with satoru and yuji because i just kept crying. i cant believe this is the end, but i cant believe even more that this is what satoru had to deal with. this is the most rushed end and the saddest end.

i wish gege had decided to take a break and decided to take his time. but alas this is not my story. still, id like to make more for satoru. ones where he'd be so loved. genmei (you) and satoru will always be happy in whatever life you have, that i write. for bitter or for worse. even in death. smiling is all there will be. even with tears.

anyway, i hope you bear with me, for i am very emotional. thank you for understanding this situation. i love you all, i'll see you soon <3

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GOJO SATORU IS EXHAUSTED. But he thinks that there is no use to sleep. He knows he cannot. The room was bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp, the light too dim to chase away the shadows that lingered in every corner, just like the uncertainty that hung between you and Satoru.

He sat across from you on the edge of the bed, his usual carefree demeanor gone, replaced by a solemn stillness that felt out of place on him. His eyes, usually so vibrant and mischievous, were tired tonight, the weight of tomorrow pulling down his every breath.

"You don’t have to do this." Your voice came out in a whisper, the words heavy with a desperation you’d been trying to suppress.

Satoru didn’t answer right away. His gaze was locked on the floor, and for a moment, you wondered if he was even listening. But then he looked up, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours, and there was something in them you rarely saw—fear.

"It’s not like I have a choice," he murmured, his voice strained. "You know that."

You did. And that made it worse. He was the strongest, after all. If anyone had to stand against Sukuna, it was him. But the weight of those expectations had never felt heavier than it did now, with the reality of the fight looming closer with every passing second.

"I hate this, Satoru." you confessed, your voice trembling. "I hate that it always comes down to you, that you’re the one who has to bear this."

Satoru smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He stood and crossed the small space between you, kneeling in front of you, his hands gently resting on your knees. His touch was warm, grounding, but it did nothing to quell the storm raging inside you.

"Hey." he said softly, lifting your chin so you’d look at him. "I know it’s not fair. But it’s what I have to do."

You shook your head, biting back the tears that threatened to spill. "But what if—" The words caught in your throat, the question too painful to finish.

Satoru’s thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn’t even realize had fallen. "Don’t think about that," he whispered, his voice as soft as the night air outside. "Not tonight."

"But how can I not?" you shot back, your frustration breaking through. "How can I pretend that everything will be fine when I know you’re going to face him? When I know there’s a chance that—"

He silenced you with a kiss, his lips gentle but firm, grounding you in the present, in this moment. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"I’ll come back to you," he promised, but even he couldn’t hide the uncertainty in his voice. “To you and Satoshi. And… I’ll bring Megumi and Tsumiki back. We’ll be a family again, like we used to be.”

It was the way he said it—so sure, so certain—that made it all the more unbearable. As if speaking it aloud would somehow make it true, would make the universe bend to his will the same way he bent the forces of space and time. But you knew better now, didn’t you? You’ve always known. Satoru Gojo, the man who was too powerful to fail, too stubborn to admit defeat, could never stop lying—not to you, not to himself. He believed in his own invincibility, as if his strength alone could rewrite the world.

But the world doesn’t work that way.

And you think then, that your husband has always been a liar.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve heard those words, promises wrapped in silk and carelessness, the way they tumbled off his tongue so casually. It was as though the act of saying it was enough for him, as though the truth could be commanded with just his voice. And maybe for a long time, it was.

Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, the man who could bend the world to his whims and yet still—he was human. And humans lie. Sometimes because they have to, sometimes because the lie feels better than the truth.

But tonight, in the quiet hours before dawn, the weight of his words pressed down harder than ever. We’ll be a family again, like we used to be. You wanted to scream at him, to shake him, to make him stop speaking as if the world was something he could fix with his bare hands. Megumi was gone, taken by darkness, by fate, and Tsumiki…Tsumiki was as good as lost to you both. Even if Satoru came back, even if he somehow survived this fight with Sukuna, the cracks in your family couldn’t simply be patched over like they had never existed.

You bit your lip, tasting the bitterness of unshed tears.

"You always say that," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the soft hum of the night. "But you don’t know this time, do you?"

His gaze faltered, the usual gleam in his eyes dimming for a fraction of a second. It was a flicker of something too vulnerable, too raw—something he rarely let anyone see. It was the truth that lingered behind his endless bravado, the truth that no amount of strength could hide: he didn’t know if he could win this time.

And you had known it all along.

Satoru had always come back to you. Bruised, battered, bleeding—but alive. He would stumble through the door with that infuriating grin, wipe the blood off his face with the back of his hand, and act like nothing had ever been in doubt. But this time was different. This wasn’t just another battle against curses or enemies who fell beneath his overwhelming strength. This was Sukuna.

"I’ll bring Megumi and Tsumiki back," he had said, as if they were just lost children in the woods, waiting for him to lead them home. But Megumi had slipped beyond reach, swallowed by the very darkness Satoru had spent his life fighting. How could he promise to bring him back when he could barely keep the pieces of himself together?

"You can’t save everyone, Satoru," you whispered, your heart breaking as you said it aloud, the truth as bitter as the lie was sweet. "Not even with all your power."

His hand tightened around yours, his grip almost too strong, as if holding onto you could somehow anchor him to the world, to the promise he so desperately wanted to believe. "I have to try," he murmured, his voice rough, as if the words themselves were painful to speak. "For you. For Satoshi. For them."

Satoshi. Your son. His name hung in the air like a thread between you, a fragile tether that held what little remained of your family together. You could see it in Satoru’s eyes—the fear of leaving his child without a father, the guilt of not being able to protect him from the storm that loomed over your lives. But you also saw the lie there, the same lie he told every time he went to war. The lie that he would come back unscathed, that he could shield all of you from the world’s cruelty just by being who he was.

But he couldn’t. Not this time.

"Satoru," you whispered, your voice breaking. "You don’t have to be everything for us. You don’t have to be invincible."

His eyes softened, and for a moment, just a moment, the mask slipped. He let you see the man beneath the legend, the man who was just as terrified as you were. "I’m not invincible," he admitted, the words barely audible. "But I can’t give up on them. I can’t give up on us."

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Even in his most vulnerable moments, even when the odds were impossibly stacked against him, Satoru Gojo refused to let go of hope. He clung to it as fiercely as he clung to you, because to do anything less would mean admitting that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t strong enough.

And in that moment, you realized something: it wasn’t that your husband was a liar. It was that he couldn’t afford to tell the truth, because if he did, the weight of it might break him.

So, you let him hold onto his lie, let him believe in a future where you, Satoshi, Megumi, and Tsumiki could all be together again. Maybe it was kinder that way. For both of you.

As the night stretched on and the inevitable dawn crept closer, you pressed your face against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For now, that was all you had—the warmth of him beside you, the sound of his heart still beating, the fragile hope that somehow, against all odds, he would come back to you.

And maybe, just maybe, the lie would come true.

“I always have, don’t I?” he added, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, that signature bravado surfacing in an attempt to reassure you. “I’ve always won the day. I’ll come back.”

Your husband’s bright eyes—those crystalline blue eyes that had seen so much, fought through so much—they betrayed him. Beneath that unwavering confidence, there was something else. Fear? Doubt? It was a crack in the façade of the invincible man you married, a truth too terrifying to speak aloud.

Your throat tightened as you met his gaze, the silence between you heavier than any words could be. He had always come back, hadn’t he? Through every impossible battle, every mission that should have left him broken or worse, he had somehow returned to you, grinning as if the world itself were a game only he knew how to win.

But that wasn’t the whole truth. The nights he returned bruised, bleeding, barely standing, those nights played in your mind like a broken record. He made light of it all, brushing off your worries with a laugh, a kiss, a flippant “I’m fine.” But those were lies too, weren’t they? Lies wrapped in love.

“Satoru,” you breathed, your voice unsteady, “you don’t have to say it.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, and that brief flicker of vulnerability nearly undid you. He pulled you closer, his hand cradling the back of your neck, his touch tender but laced with desperation. "But I will come back," he insisted, his voice soft but firm. "I always do."

You wanted to believe him. You needed to. Because to imagine a world where he didn’t come back, where that promise wasn’t fulfilled, was a world too cruel to fathom. But tonight, as the shadow of Sukuna loomed larger than ever, the weight of that lie pressed down on you both. What if this time, his strength wasn’t enough?

“What if…” you started, but he silenced you with a finger pressed gently against your lips.

“No ‘what ifs,’” he whispered, though you both knew better than that. Satoru had lived his life defying fate, bending it to his will. But not even the strongest sorcerer could escape death forever.

His hand moved from your neck to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your face as if trying to memorize it, as if this moment might be his last chance. You could see the weight of the world in his eyes, the burden of being the one everyone relied on, the one expected to face the impossible—and win.

But for once, he wasn’t invincible to you. He was just a man, your husband, and for the first time, you saw the lie for what it was: his way of protecting you. Of protecting himself from the truth that this might be the one fight he couldn’t walk away from.

You placed your hand over his, feeling the warmth of his skin, and in that moment, you didn’t care about lies or truths, about promises or fears. You just wanted him here, now, with you. "Then stay with me a little longer," you whispered, your voice breaking.

Satoru closed his eyes, exhaling deeply, and nodded. "I’m here," he said, pulling you into his arms, his voice a soft, almost broken promise. "I’m here."

And for tonight, that would have to be enough.

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, neither speaking, just holding onto each other as if by doing so, you could freeze time, stop the inevitable from coming. You memorized the feel of his hands on your skin, the warmth of his body against yours, the sound of his heartbeat under your palm. You clung to the moment as if it were your last.

As the night wore on, you both lay down, tangled in each other’s arms. Sleep didn’t come easily, and when it did, it was fitful, haunted by the looming specter of tomorrow. You held onto him tightly, afraid that if you let go, he would disappear into the darkness, never to return.

In the early hours before dawn, Satoru stirred, his arms tightening around you one last time. The weight of the night clung to both of you, thick and heavy, the silence between his breaths and your heart beats a fragile barrier against the coming storm.

You felt him shift beside you, his warmth pulling you closer, as if holding you tighter could keep the inevitable at bay for just a moment longer. His fingers traced gentle circles on your back, his touch familiar, grounding, but laced with an unspoken tension.

"I’ll be back, hm?" he whispered again, the words soft and lingering in the stillness. His voice, usually so sure, faltered at the edges, as though he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to comfort you.

He said it like a prayer, like repeating it enough times could bend fate, twist reality to make it true. But you knew better. You both did. Those words, though meant to soothe, carried the weight of all the times you’d heard them before, and the growing fear that this time might be different.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The knot in your throat tightened, a lump of unspoken fears and uncried tears. There was too much to say, too much that couldn’t be put into words without breaking whatever fragile hope remained between you. If you spoke now, you might lose whatever composure you had left, and you needed to hold on to it, if only for his sake.

Instead, you pressed your face against his chest, your ear resting just above his heart. The steady, rhythmic beating echoed through your body, its cadence familiar and reassuring, a sound that had become synonymous with home.

It was the same heartbeat you’d fallen asleep to countless nights, the one you’d clung to after long missions, when he’d returned battered but smiling, and you’d held him just like this—like he was your anchor to the world.

But this time, it was different. You weren’t just seeking comfort; you were memorizing it. The sound, the feel of his chest rising and falling beneath your cheek, the warmth of his skin against yours. You were committing it all to memory, engraving it deep into your soul because, somewhere in the back of your mind, a quiet voice whispered that this might be the last time.

Each beat of his heart became a marker, a reminder of the moments you had shared, of all the laughter and love and quiet nights like this one. But now, it also carried the weight of what could be lost. The inevitability of tomorrow pressed against your chest, suffocating, as if time itself was slipping through your fingers.

You tighten your grip around him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, unwilling to let go, even as the sky outside began to lighten with the first traces of dawn. The sun was rising, and with it, the time for him to leave drew nearer.

Satoru’s hand moved to your hair, his fingers threading through it gently, soothingly. He kissed the top of your head, and though his touch was as tender as ever, there was a lingering sadness in it. He held you like he was trying to memorize you, too, like this was as much for him as it was for you. He didn’t say anything more, perhaps because he knew that no words would ease the ache that had settled between you, a chasm neither of you could cross.

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, casting a soft, golden glow over the room, you felt him shift again, his breath hitching slightly as he prepared to rise. You wanted to beg him to stay, to forget about everything else, just for today. But you knew he couldn’t, and you wouldn’t ask that of him. He had a duty, a burden that he had carried for as long as you had known him. And no matter how much you wanted to keep him safe, you couldn’t shield him from what was coming.

When he finally moved to leave, your arms loosened around him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let go completely. Not yet. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than he needed to, as if he, too, was trying to hold on to this last fragment of peace before it was shattered.

“I’ll be back.” he whispered once more, his breath warm against your skin.

This time, you didn’t respond because you couldn’t. Instead, you closed your eyes, letting the sound of his heartbeat linger in your memory, holding onto it as tightly as you held onto him. The door would close behind him soon, and with it, he would walk into the fight of his life, a battle that you both knew could be his last. But for now, in this fleeting moment before dawn, you let yourself believe in the lie, because the truth was too painful to bear.

And when he finally left, the door closing softly behind him, you were left alone in the silence, the echo of his promise lingering in the air, fragile and fleeting.

HE DOESN’T KNOW WHY, BUT HE JUST FELT LIKE TALKING. Quite unlike him, if he was being honest with himself.  But as Gojo Satoru sat beside Itadori Yuji, all he could think about was peace of mind. And to do that, he thinks he should talk.

Gojo Satoru could feel his usual smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, though today it felt more subdued. They had been talking for a while now, their conversation meandering from one thing to another. But beneath Satoru’s lighthearted tone, Yuji sensed something deeper. Something weighed heavy on his teacher’s mind.

“When something happens, I want you to be there for me, Yuji.” Satoru said suddenly, his eyes staring ahead. His voice was soft, but not weak—it carried the strength of someone who had lived with the knowledge that he had to bear the world on his shoulders. “I have love and dreams too, you know.”

Yuji blinked, surprised by the vulnerability in Satoru’s words. He wasn’t used to hearing his sensei talk like this, with a depth that seemed so different from his usual carefree attitude.

Satoru glanced at Yuji, his smile widening slightly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But you know, one day, everyone will grow up and leave me behind, right?”

Yuji didn’t know how to respond. The idea of leaving Satoru behind felt impossible. But Satoru’s words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his loneliness. It was a rare glimpse into the mind of the man everyone thought was invincible.

“I have high hopes for you.” Satoru continued, his voice becoming more playful, but there was something fragile beneath the surface. “Desire and ambition!”

“I could never forget you.” Yuji said as he smiled nervously, trying to deflect the seriousness with humor, though it didn’t quite land. 

Satoru sighed. “I honestly think it’s better to have someone stronger than me who can truly forget my existence.”

“Isn’t that a bit concerning, Sensei?” Yuji asked after a moment, tilting his head. “Are you okay with that?”

Satoru’s smile softened. “Ah, you’re so young and naïve!” he said fondly, his voice carrying an almost paternal tone. “You’re brimming with confidence, aren’t you?”

The conversation lulled, and for a moment, the two sat in silence, the air between them thick with unsaid things. And then, Satoru spoke again, but this time his voice was lower, as if he were confessing something he hadn’t shared with anyone else.

“You know, Yuji…..” Satoru began, his gaze distant. The most emotional Yuji had seen him to be. “Sometimes I wish I could just… run away. With my beloved. My wife. Megumi, Tsumiki, and little Satoshi too. I dream about it sometimes. Hiding us away somewhere no one could find us. No more battles, no more curses… just peace. We’d be a family again.”

Yuji looked at his sensei Gojo, stunned. He had never heard his teacher speak like this before, as though the weight of being the strongest had finally worn him down. Gojo Satoru’s dream of escaping, of living a quiet life with the people he loved—it was so human. 

So far removed from the man everyone saw as untouchable, undefeatable. But at this moment, Satoru wasn’t the strongest sorcerer in the world. He was just a man who wanted to protect the people he loved. A man who longed for something simple, something real.

“That’s my dream, my love and dreams.” Satoru whispered, his voice barely audible. “But I know it’s impossible. The world needs me too much.”

Yuji’s heart ached for him. He didn’t know what to say, so instead, he simply sat there, hoping that in his silence, his sensei could feel his support.

Satoru sighed, standing up and stretching as if to shake off the heaviness of their conversation. “Anyway, enough of that.” he said, flashing his usual grin. “Let’s focus on what’s in front of us.”

But even as he spoke, Yuji couldn’t shake the feeling that, deep down, Satoru Gojo longed for something far beyond his reach.

Yuji stared at Satoru, processing the weight of his sensei's words. It was hard to imagine Satoru Gojo, the invincible sorcerer who seemed so carefree, harboring such a vulnerable wish. A man who could crush enemies with ease, someone who always had the answers—yet, here he was, confessing a dream that would never come true.

“I never thought… you’d want something like that, Sensei.” Yuji admitted quietly, his voice breaking the silence. “I guess I never really thought about what you’d want outside of all this.”

Satoru glanced at him, a softer smile playing on his lips. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? When you’re as strong as I am, no one really thinks to ask what you want. They think you don’t need anything… or anyone.”

Yuji frowned, guilt washing over him. He hadn’t meant to think that way about Gojo Satoru, but it was true. He had always seen his teacher as larger than life, almost beyond human in his ability to control any situation, to be everywhere and nowhere at once.

"But... you have them, Sensei." Yuji said slowly, searching for the right words. "Your wife, Megumi, Tsumiki, and Satoshi… They need you, don't they? Maybe you can’t run away, but you still have something, sensei. A family. Isn't that enough?”

Satoru chuckled, but the sound was hollow, lacking its usual energy. He sat back down beside Yuji, his gaze once again distant. “You’d think that, right? But the stronger you are, the more people take from you. It’s like… I’m always on borrowed time. I’m always one fight away from leaving them behind too.”

Yuji swallowed hard. He’d never thought about Satoru’s life in that way. It was a sobering realization, that even someone as powerful as Gojo was constantly battling not just external threats but the fear of losing what little he had.

“I wish I could protect them from everything.” Satoru murmured. “Just take them somewhere far away… no more battles, no more cursed energy. Just… quiet. But no matter how strong I am, I can’t do that. I can’t just… leave the world to burn while we live in peace.”

He turned to Yuji then, his icy blue eyes piercing through the air. “You know, sometimes I think I was selfish for bringing them into my world. Megumi, Tsumiki, Satoshi… my wife. They didn’t ask for this. I chose this life for them.”

“Sensei.” Yuji started, unsure of what to say. His heart ached for Satoru. “They love you. And… they wouldn’t want to live without you, either. Even if it’s dangerous.”

Satoru’s lips twitched upward in a bittersweet smile. “Yeah, I know. But love’s a tricky thing, Yuji. It’s not enough to stop the world from trying to tear us apart. It never has been.”

Yuji nodded, not fully understanding, but feeling the gravity of Satoru’s words. There was a silence between them, but it was heavy with the weight of shared thoughts, of unspoken dreams and impossible futures.

Satoru leaned back, his hands resting behind his head. “But hey, that’s just how it goes, right? No point in dwelling on things we can’t change.”

He looked at Yuji with a bright grin, but it felt like a mask—one Yuji was starting to see through more and more. “So, enough about me. What about you? What are your dreams, Yuji?”

Yuji blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. “My dreams?”

Satoru nodded. “Yeah. You must have some. Or did you think I was the only one allowed to have them?”

Yuji scratched the back of his neck, thinking for a moment. “I guess… I don’t know. I never really thought that far ahead. I’ve been so focused on everything happening now, I never gave myself the chance.”

Satoru chuckled softly. “That’s the thing with us, sorcerers. We get so caught up in fighting for today, we forget to dream about tomorrow.”

Yuji looked down at his hands, feeling a strange sense of guilt. “Do you really think… you can never have that life you want?”

Satoru didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed his eyes, letting the wind ruffle his silver hair. For a moment, he was just Satoru—not the strongest, not the invincible sorcerer, but a man burdened by the life he had to lead.

“I don’t know, Yuji……” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But I like to dream that maybe, someday… we could all disappear. And live. Just live.  Just me, my wife, Megumi, Tsumiki, Satoshi… away from everything. Living in peace.”

His voice trailed off, and Yuji could hear the longing in it. The truth was, Satoru Gojo might be the strongest sorcerer alive, but even he was bound by the same rules as everyone else. He couldn’t run from the world, couldn’t hide from the battles he had to fight.

But it didn’t stop him from dreaming.

Yuji looked at him with a new understanding, realizing that no matter how strong someone was, they still carried their own struggles, their own wishes and dreams. And sometimes, those dreams were just as fragile as anyone else's.

"Maybe one day, sensei." Yuji said softly, with an honest smile. "You won't have to fight anymore."

Satoru chuckled, opening one eye to glance at Yuji. "Maybe. But until then, we keep going."

And with that, the conversation ended, but the weight of it lingered between them—a reminder that even the strongest had dreams they longed to chase, even if those dreams were just out of reach.

YOU THINK YOU WAITED FOR THIS MOMENT FOR A LONG TIME. When you wait for your eyes to close with finality, the weight of the years presses down on you, a quiet fatigue settling into your bones. You’re tired—so tired—and when you open them again, you're met with the familiar sight of Fushiguro Megumi and Gojo Satoshi. Your two sons, waiting for you to go and leave them. 

Megumi stands tall, his arms crossed as usual, but his gaze softens when he sees you. Satoshi, ever his opposite, smiles that wide, carefree grin of his. They both look at you, concern etched into their features.

"I'm exhausted." you tell them softly, the words slipping out like a confession you’ve been holding in for far too long.

“You can’t die yet, Mother......" Satoshi pipes up, his voice steady, but the cracks of fear were unmistakable. His usual bright demeanor falters, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he grips the hem of his shirt. His voice may be steady, but his eyes betray him—glossed with unshed tears, reflecting a grief he’s not ready to face. Not now. Not yet. 

“You’re still too young!” There’s urgency in his words, a childlike plea echoing in his tone, though he’s long since grown past childhood. The way his shoulders hunch forward, the way his gaze darts between you and Megumi—he’s holding on. Clutching to hope as if his words could anchor you to this world a little longer. 

Megumi stands beside him, more composed, but his silence carries a weight just as heavy. He nods, his expression solemn. “He’s right, Gen-san.” Megumi adds quietly.

His voice is low, restrained, as though he’s struggling to hold back everything he truly wants to say. His hands remain tucked in his pockets, his face as unreadable as ever, but his eyes—the eyes you’ve known for so many years—hold a flicker of something deeper. Desperation? Fear? Perhaps both.

"You’re only 48. You still have time left."

His words are careful, deliberate, each one carrying the weight of someone who’s had to shoulder too much responsibility, too much loss. The faint tremor in his voice betrays how much he’s already bracing himself for another wound, another absence he’ll have to carry.

You look at them both—Satoshi, who still clings to hope as though it could somehow rewrite fate, and Megumi, whose quiet strength has always shielded him from the full brunt of the pain—but not this time. They both stand there, torn between urging you to stay and accepting the inevitable.

But you smile at them, a soft, knowing smile that carries the weight of the years, the joy and the sorrow, the love and the loss. It's a smile that’s lived through the ache of life without Satoru, a smile that remembers every laugh, every argument, every stolen glance, and every moment that felt too brief. 

“I know, I know......” you say, your voice gentle, steady. There’s a peace in your tone that they don’t yet understand, a quiet acceptance that fills the space between you. “But I’m ready. I’ve missed Satoru... for so long.”

And in that moment, as you say his name, the air feels lighter, as if the years of separation, the longing, the silent ache in your chest begins to unravel. You missed him—not just in fleeting moments or in passing thoughts, but in the depths of your soul. Every day, every night. The space he left behind has been a constant companion, a reminder of what once was and what could never be again.

The tears in Satoshi’s eyes finally spill over, and Megumi’s lips press into a thin line, his jaw tightening, but neither of them say anything. They understand, even if they don’t want to.

Because love—true, enduring love—is something that even death can’t diminish. And they know you loved Satoru with all that you were, and perhaps, even now, they understand that your heart has been waiting for him all along.

The weight in your chest lightens as you speak his name. Megumi frowns but doesn't say anything more, and Satoshi’s smile falters, understanding settling into their eyes. 

You close your eyes once again, the world fading into a peaceful darkness. There's a brief moment of silence, a quiet passing, before a familiar voice echoes softly, teasingly:

“Did you miss me?”

Tears well up before you even open your eyes. You don’t need to see him to know it’s him. The voice, that unmistakable voice—playful, laced with all the love and mischief you’d missed for too long.

When your eyes flutter open, there he is—Satoru, standing before you, that brilliant smile lighting up his face. The tears fall freely now, but for the first time in years, they're not from

“Satoru......” you breathe, his name barely a whisper on your lips, as though speaking it aloud might break the fragile moment. Your voice catches in your throat, a mix of disbelief, relief, and the sorrow that’s lived inside you for far too long.

It’s a name you’ve spoken to the silence of empty rooms, whispered into the night when no one was there to hear, a name tied to a thousand memories you’ve held onto so tightly for all these years. 

The tears that have welled up in your eyes begin to spill over, blurring the figure before you, but you don’t need to see him to know it’s him. You feel him—his presence, his warmth, the way his energy fills the space around you like it always did. 

He steps closer, closing the distance between you in a way that feels like the erasure of all those agonizing years of separation. His familiar warmth envelops you, wrapping around you like an embrace you’ve longed for, like a homecoming after a journey that has lasted far too long.

The brush of his thumb against your cheek is achingly gentle, tender as he wipes away the tears that won’t stop falling. His touch, so familiar, yet so missed, sends a wave of emotions crashing over you—grief for the years you lost, joy for the moment you never thought you’d have again.

"You came back to me, finally." His voice is quieter now, the usual teasing that you had come to know so well is gone, replaced by something deeper—something raw and vulnerable, a depth of emotion he often hid beneath his bravado.

There’s relief in his words, but also a quiet sorrow, as if he too felt the weight of all the time you’d spent apart. As if he too had been waiting, missing you just as much as you had missed him.

His breath is warm against your skin, and you hear the slight tremor in his voice, that hint of fragility in the man who always seemed invincible to you. There’s a vulnerability in him now, standing before you, as though he’s afraid this moment might not be real. Afraid that if he holds you too tightly, you might slip away again.

His thumb continues to trace gentle patterns along your cheek, the rhythm of it soothing and familiar, grounding you in the reality that he’s truly here. And as he looks at you, his bright blue eyes softer now, there’s a depth to them that speaks to all the words left unsaid, to all the years spent in separation, to the weight of the grief he carried alone.

"I waited and waited, stalling some gods....." he continues, his voice just above a whisper now, the teasing facade stripped away, leaving only the rawness of his feelings. "I waited so long, and every day… I missed you."

There’s a moment of silence that stretches between you, heavy with the unspoken sorrow of time lost, of love interrupted by forces beyond your control. His hand, still cradling your face, trembles just slightly, as if even Satoru, with all his strength, couldn’t bear the thought of losing you again.

The weight of it all—of everything you endured, everything you lost—comes crashing down at once, and you let out a soft, broken sob. You feel his arms wrap around you, pulling you against him, holding you close like he’s afraid to ever let go. 

“I missed you too. So so much.” you whisper into his chest, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. “I never stopped missing you, Satoru.”

You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep breath, his lips pressing softly against your forehead. And for the first time in what feels like forever, the sorrow that’s been living inside you begins to ease. It doesn’t disappear entirely—grief never really does—but here, in Satoru’s arms, it feels lighter. It feels like, maybe, you can finally rest.

And in that moment, you realize that the exhaustion, the waiting—it was all worth it. You're home.

epilogue

The afterlife wasn’t exactly what you expected. Instead of floating through clouds or endless fields of serenity, you found yourself at what looked like an airport terminal. Before you could process how bizarre this was, you spotted them—Kaiko and Namie, both waving like maniacs from the crowd.

“Finally!” Kaiko shouts, sprinting toward you with the grace of someone who has no concept of personal space. Namie follows, beaming brightly, and within seconds, they’re both squeezing the life out of you.

“Guys, air... I need air!” you gasp, but they only hug you tighter. Kaiko plants a kiss on your cheek, and Namie loops an arm around your waist like they’ve been waiting years for this reunion.

“We missed you so much, you know?” Kaiko pouts, ignoring your protests. “The afterlife just isn’t the same without you.”

“Excuse me.” You look over Kaiko’s shoulder to see Satoru, sunglasses slightly askew, his mouth pulled into a pout that could rival a spoiled child’s. “You’re hogging my wife.”

Kaiko smirks, not even turning to look at Satoru. “Your wife? Funny, because I’m pretty sure I was her first love.” She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head ever so slightly as if daring him to challenge the claim.

Satoru's eyes narrow behind his shades. “That was ages ago, you homewrecker! She married me—” he steps forward, pointing at the both of you— “not you.”

“Oh please,” Kaiko rolls her eyes. “I’ve known her longer. I laid the groundwork. I was and always will be the original concept!”

Satoru steps closer, his height towering over Kaiko but Kaiko isn’t fazed. “She chose me.”

“She settled for you, shitty eyes!” Kaiko quips, her grin widening. “There’s a difference.”

And that’s all it takes. Satoru’s eyebrow twitches, and suddenly they’re in each other’s faces like squabbling children. You can barely get a word in before they start throwing insults—Kaiko jabbing at Satoru’s height, Satoru boasting about his undeniable charm.

“Guys, seriously?” You rub your temples, trying to hold back laughter. “This is ridiculous.”

Geto Suguru, ever the voice of reason (or at least the one who knows when to pick his battles), sidles up beside you with a casual smile. “Looks like some things never change.”

You grin at him, feeling a sense of ease that only Suguru can bring. “Tell me about it. Can’t believe I’m back and they’re already fighting over me.”

“Typical Satoru!” Suguru laughs. “He never could handle competition.” He offers you a knowing look, then gestures to the absurd scene in front of you. “Should we break it up?”

“Nah, let them tire themselves out.” you reply, waving a hand dismissively. “They’ll realize how stupid they’re being soon enough.”

As if on cue, Kaiko flicks Satoru in the forehead. “She loved my kisses first!”

“Oh, for—" Satoru huffs, about to lunge at Kaiko when you step in between them. “She loved mine more!”

“Oh shut up,your kisses are slimy and disgusting!”

“HUH!? You take that back!”

“Ugly frog! Bwah!” 

“Alright, enough.” You shake your head, stifling a laugh. “Satoru, Kaiko, stop acting like children. I’m here for everyone, okay?”

“Everyone except Kaiko.” Satoru mutters under his breath.

Suguru chuckles beside you, giving you a side glance. “Welcome back.”

You smile, patting his shoulder. “Good to be back. I see things haven’t changed much.”

As Kaiko and Satoru continue bickering like they’re back in high school, Suguru leans over, smirking. “Should we take bets on who wins this round?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Nah, I’m putting my money on Namie. She’s going to step in and drag both of them away soon enough.”

And, just like clockwork, Namie swoops in, grabbing Kaiko by the arm and tugging her toward the exit, muttering about “taking this fight outside.”

Satoru watches them go, arms crossed, still pouting. He looks at you, expectant, as if waiting for reassurance.

You chuckle, stepping closer and placing a hand on his chest. “Relax, Satoru. You know you’re the one I chose.”

His pout softens into a grin, and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “Damn right.”

And with that, the chaos of the airport fades into the background, as you bask in the comfort of having your husband by your side—and of course, the endless entertainment of old rivals.

[sneppu]

The Reasons Why Severus Snape is Secretly a Cat, Actually.

I'm saying he's a neglected and abused stray little black cat and here is why

He's very meow meow. VERY kitten.

Black cats are vilified and assumed by some to be evil. Coincidentally, both of these things happen to Snape as well.

Difficult to befriend. Cats are already picky about who they like, and Cats who have had it rough are even more difficult. One cannot just waltz up to a cat like that expect friendliness, or even indifference for that matter.

Extremely bad, no good, very bad luck with dogs. Seriously, the man MUST have dog trauma by now. Werewolves? Sirius, one of his biggest haters and tormentors, a dog animagus? even Fluffy mauling his leg?? The first two were marauders, yes, but that's not a good thing when it comes to Snape. (not all dogs and cats dont get along, but its certainly interesting. Personally, I headcanon him as a definite cat person who has a bad associations with dogs but thats a whole other post.)

Very hissy and snarly and unpleasant when threatened - and sometimes, even when YOU think there's no apparent threat! This is premium Gato™ Behavior. An abused little shelter cat, horribly unsocialized, becoming hyper defensive anytime anything happens to him, even if the thing that is happening is kind.

it fits with the idea that hes "mean for no reason" because there IS a reason - cats are complicated little guys! Where you see a nonissue, He might see a threat. Where you see kindness, he might see mockery. Where you see playfulness he might see cruelty, and so on. After all, he's been on the receiving end of it all too often.

Cats like this usually end up stuck in shelters - not a home - because no one will take them. They're too offputting, they're too mean, they're too much trouble. One could argue that Hogwarts itself IS that shelter in this scenario; a place to be, but not a home. Not really.

Worth noting: maybe to Harry, Hogwarts can be considered a sort-of Home, but he actually found kindness and friends there. Severus lost his only friend and was tormented there. Better than his incredibly shitty situation with his family? Certainly! but Shelters often are.

SWM fits as well; A moment of extreme distress from being humiliated, afraid, and overwhelmed? all those jeering laughing faces while he is vulnerable and unsafe, defenseless at the hands of people who have continuously hurt him for years?? and to see and know that his friend - his BEST friend - the only friend; the only PERSON, he has, is there holding back a smile as it is happening too? Have you ever met a cat in distress? of course he lashed out. It's honestly astounding that he didnt lash out MORE.

and while on the subject of SWM, him lashing out at Lily applies here too. A cornered, distressed cat (especially one with a history of abuse) sees everything as a threat , even people it is normally friendly to, if it's distressed enough. Have you tried to bathe a cat? or maybe tried to coax one to get into a cat carrier for the vet? these things are very difficult but manageable at the best of times but "vulnerable, afraid, humiliated, and threatened" are NOT the best of times, I fear.

it even works with his occlumency and the way he deals with vulnerability as well. Cats, when in pain, do their best to hide that pain. This is because to be outwardly hurt is to be vulnerable, and that can lead to predation by bigger animals. Severus too, hides his vulnerability. The things that truly matter to him, his worries, his soft and squishy bits, and loyalties all carefully locked away.

Rivalry with Minerva?? that's just good ol' unserious cat drama. Have u ever seen an indoor cat staring down a stray through the window? silly little creatures. They'll grumble about it and act like its on sight (and maybe it is!) but when you're not looking, there'll be sniffing through the glass and pretending they dont care while they nap suspiciously close by.

Starved for affection and touch. An abused stray, past all the hissing and the fear and violence, once they're finally given a chance and finally understand that they are safe, just wants to be loved. They usually end up being the most affectionate and loyal cats of all! only to those they feel safe with, of course.

And speaking of loyalty, that applies here too. He was loyal to Lily, the first and only person to show him kindness (though my feelings for her are very complicated) and he was later loyal to Dumbledore. Unfortunately, neither of these people ever truly took in the stray, not really. And so the Stray was never actually socialized, and never completely safe, and never actually given a home.

and finally.. his death. Cats have a tendency to hide when nearing death, or dying.. and as such, often die in solitude. Severus may not have exactly had a direct hand in this of course, but.. there's something about him dying in this shitty little shack, far away from the action, presumably alone (or so he thought until Harry and his friends materialized out of nowhere under the cloak.). He wasn't actually alone in his actual final moments, but in the time leading up to it? Very lonely.

In a way, one could say that Lily came closest to adopting the stray Sev cat. And maybe she would have! maybe she wanted to take in the stray at one point - had planned to, even! But her friends told her he was dirty and gross, "who knows where that things been! he's probably diseased". and The marauders kept tormenting him, making him increasingly defensive and hissy and violent, as cats often are in that situation and then it was also "look how cruel and mean he is! he'll only hurt you". and maybe when the time finally came and that defensiveness finally WAS aimed at her it only confirmed what she had already begun to believe. And then she decided she wasnt a cat person after all. Who knows? One could make an argument for all of that. Do i see things that way? maybe, maybe not. My feelings toward every character who is not Snape are largely indifferent for the most part.

Verdict: Severus Snape is a Cat. He is a little kitten meow meow. Give this man a little cauldron to curl up in asap

[mermaidsirennikita]

Sadly, the Wuthering Heights furor has also led to people (many of whom, let us be real, simply dislike the book or otherwise only think of it when it's brought up) to discourse about the content of the novel versus the wrongness of Emerald Fennell's choices with regards to the movie, which of course, has opened up the classic "IT'S NOT A ROMANCE! IT'S NOT A LOVE STORY! BAD PEOPLE! HATE STORY!"

... Which is... also a bad take.

First off, to be very clear, "Romance" is not inherently "genre romance", which is the thing I blog a lot about that was solidified in the latter half of the twentieth century (and which, no doubt, was influenced on some level by WH as much as Jane Eyre, Austen novels and so on). Wuthering Heights is a romance, it's just not a genre romance/romance novel. And indisputably, Wuthering Heights is a love story.

It may not be a love story you like. It may not be a love story with a happily ever after (though I will say—this is one of the few books where I think it's pretty debatable, as "wandering the moors as ghosts", if that is what happened, is kind of... what Cathy and Heathcliff would've wanted... and their ultimate desire was to be TOGETHER, regardless of whether or not it damned them, so is it an HEA in their freaky minds? Maybe so lol). It may ALSO be an abuse story in which the lovers act horribly to each other.... though, I gotta say, MUCH WORSE to literally everyone else in their lives than they do to each other...

But it's a love story. That is one of several things it happens to be. The entire novel is driven by this central love story between Heathcliff and Cathy—a love that is, contrary to what a surface-level reading or reading by word of mouth would imply... very much mutual. I've already gone on about how Cathy Earnshaw is not Heathcliff's victim the way Isabella Linton is, and how Cathy is very much as involved in the love affair as he is. But truly, while their individual internal struggles are the framework and what keeps them apart in many ways—Heathcliff being a man of color and subject to racist abuse, Cathy conforming to society and classist pressures when her natural temperament is very much not of society—what propels the story is this romance.

Because they are supposed to be read as extremely similar, and as two people who do not truly identify with anyone but one another. They're supposed to be read as like minds. They're supposed to be read as thwarted. Some of the things those two say about each other and to each other are legitimately some of the most romantic lines I've ever read.

I mean, are they also kind of sick and wrong? Sure! But I do find it kind of rich to see people who are totally fine with reading dark romance wring their hands over the public at large interpreting Heathcliff and Cathy's relationship as an epic romance. I don't have an issue with anyone enjoying either! But. Let us be real. Part of why y'all are even enjoying work like that is the standard that books like WH set, and the fact that WH does speak to the lure of the dark and the tragedy of people who are super imperfect... and also super in love... continuously fucking up their own lives (and the lives of basically everyone around them) in this push-pull of denial and desire.

When people say "HOW COULD ANYONE EVER INTERPRET THIS AS ROMANTIC?" I just have to question... did you read the book? Because even if it's not for YOU, if it's not romantic TO YOU, surely you can see why other people (me and mine lol) read lines like these and go, "Wow, romantic":

“Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you--haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe--I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”

(fun fact: I do have a part of the above quote tattooed on my body and I'm very happy about it)

"My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it."

"Hush, my darling! Hush, hush, Catherine! I'll stay. If he shot me so, I'd expire with a blessing on my lips."

[said when her damn husband is almost at the door lol]

"I’m not wishing you greater torment than I have, Heathcliff. I only wish us never to be parted: and should a word of mine distress you hereafter, think I feel the same distress underground, and for my own sake, forgive me!"

"'Heathcliff, dear! you should not be sullen now. Do come to me, Heathcliff.’

In her eagerness she rose and supported herself on the arm of the chair. At that earnest appeal he turned to her, looking absolutely desperate. His eyes, wide and wet, at last flashed fiercely on her; his breast heaved convulsively. An instant they held asunder, and then how they met I hardly saw, but Catherine made a spring, and he caught her, and they were locked in an embrace from which I thought my mistress would never be released alive..."

"Kiss me again; and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?"

[Read: she is the murderer he is talking about. He's saying she doomed herself to death a long time ago, and he hates her for it. While also crying and kissing her lmao]

They're sickos! Nobody can argue otherwise. But that does not mean they're not in love, and it doesn't mean this isn't a love story, and wagging your fingers at people who read this as the obviously destructive love story this is and find it romantic... doesn't change that.

And the thing is that the book makes it pretttyyyy clear that even if Heathcliff and Cathy has assholery programed into their personalities, WITHOUT the contexts of how they were raised and the society that expects them both to conform to prescribed roles, they would probably just... be together. Like, they victimize people, especially Heathcliff. But they are also victims. The book isn't about a critique of two people Emily Bronte dreamed up; it's a critique of the CIRCUMSTANCES by way of Gothic, subversive melodrama. At the end of the day, their feelings, however passionate they are, are not inherently subversive. Their feelings are NATURAL. But they're twisted and contorted into something ugly through circumstance and the characters' responses to those circumstances.

For Heathcliff, A LOT of those circumstances that did twist him are in fact out of his control. Which is why we hate that casting, right?

But all that said, a love story being dirtybadwrong and about Bad People doesn't mean it isn't a love story, lol. Again—we don't even expect genre romance to be about good people.

Like. Yeah. We know Heathcliff and Cathy are assholes. You're not breaking new ground with that take. The book is still, in many ways, about those assholes being in love.

[kittyandco]

something i've been thinking about for the last few... forever.

shout out to the people who identify so strongly with, and/or find the most comfort in, the worst character(s) of any media that you're into. some of us find connection and similarities with the most terrible figures that canon has to offer. often, you're expected to identify most strongly with the good guy, or aspire to be like them (and not to say you don't, because i do sometimes). but that often doesn't happen for me, and i see more of myself in the evil impacting them.

not because i think i'm a bad person, and not because i aspire to be a flamboyant supervillain, but i often understand their feelings, their mindset, i understand how they got there, because i often went through a lot of the same things they did, even if only emotionally. it often goes beyond sheer appreciation for me (though i often find them more interesting from a narrative sense). and if i were in their world, i might become like them if things were even slightly different. if i didn't try to unlearn the fact that destruction is the only way to get what you want. catharsis is a powerful motivator.

i think it's important to embrace the "they're just like me" perspective when it comes to characters who aren't always "morally sound," and i do unequivocally include the "unsympathetic" ones. we're always going to find fictional characters we admire so long as art keeps being made, and sometimes admiration moves into "i identify with this character because of our background/personality/etc.", and sometimes these characters are the ones you're supposed to hate and root against... intentionally or not, many antagonists are very relatable (though often in unspoken ways).

none of this is to say that your taste in favorite characters means anything about you as a person, because it doesn't. how you treat others says all it needs to say about you as a person. i've seen this first-hand: people being surprised that i am friendly and compassionate (i try my best!) simply because i have a deep love for fictional guys who commit atrocities. yes, my worldly experiences, and the way i view them, as well as my fantastic taste draws me to fictional bad guys, but at the end of the day, i strive to be the best i can be every day. i aim to exude the kindness that i didn't always get when i practically begged for it. on the other hand, you could like the most sugary sweet, do-good fictional characters ever created (and good for you! no shame here!) and still be a nightmare to those around you.

i don't like the idea that you CANNOT like these characters, or identify with them, without condoning some sort of evil or being a bad person. they are people (or robots, or monsters, or whatever they are) who did bad things, whatever their reasons -- here's no inherence about it, and i think that belief has helped me in trying to understand them. i try to practice this with everyone i encounter. and along the way, i actually find that we aren't so different

[lovettery]

Haikyuu x F!Reader Headcannons ! ♡

Includes : Tobio Kageyama , Kei Tsukishima & Tadashi Yamaguchi

Tobio Kageyama

I headcannon that before you he's like barely ever even looked at a girl nevermind dated one so he's very inexperienced with everything !

He would be super shy to kiss or anything so everytime you would try and kiss him he'd swerve away and just stare into the distance in shame of himself.

Soon he got the hang of it and now you can't get him to stop kissing you. Before practice? He needs a kiss to prepare. After practice? Needs a kiss to unwind. Lunch? How is he supposed to focus without a kiss? He just doesn't stop!! (but it's okay because he's cute ♡)

When you guys have been together for a while he loves to just lay down in bed with you all snuggled up and whine about his day whether it's him whining about Hinata's shitty receives or how much he missed you whilst you stroke his hair and rub your hand soothingly across his back.

He always tries getting you involved in volleyball so he'll randomly just come up to you with a ball in hand ready to practice with you despite your constant reminders that you barely know the basics nevermind his level of playing. (He doesn't go easy on you though and will tell you if you were shit. But will come back to practice with you again either way ♡)

I imagine he doesn't tend to use a lot of petnames mainly because he's worried he'll call you it infront of his teammates and they'll never let it go but when you're alone together he'll slip out a "baby" and "angel" here and there and it never fails to leave butterflies in your stomach.

Kei Tsukishima

Same as Kageyama I don't think he's very experienced with relationships but he's read a few romance books here and there and has some natural charm that helps him get by.

He's not a fan of PDA at all and thinks it's just embarassing but sometimes he'll connect your hands together and place them in his coat pocket or he'll connect your pinkies together when walking home. And the only kisses you'll get out in public is a quick peck to the forehead if he's scoped out the area to be sure no one he knows is there.

He LOVES to rest his head against you whether it's your back, chest or neck he really doesn't care he'll just plonk his head down and snuggle into you. He loves the feeling of having you against him like that, it calms him down.

Whenever you're gonna meet up to hang out, sleepover or just school he'll bring your favourite drink or snack and just shove it at you and not say a word (you know better than to say anything either ♡)

He really cherishes the moments where you two just lay down in his bed all cuddled up, you resting against his chest and his hand in your hair just enjoying the feeling of eachother and the comfortable silence you can only get when together.

Whenever you steal his glasses and put them on yourself he may act annoyed but deep down he loves it so much (And in those moments he really curses his bad vision because he literally cannot see you but can sense that you look adorable)

I don't see him as the type of guy who's big on petnames. If anything, he thinks they're stupid. Butttt, If you're shorter than him he'll call you petnames like "Shorty" and "Pipsqueak" and if you're a big fan of petnames he'll let a few "love" and "darling" slip by just for you ♡

Tadashi Yamaguchi

My passenger princess oh how much I love him

I imagine he's a very big fan of Romantic movies so he knows how to flirt a little but he doesn't actually have any experience with dating, maybe he had a wedding on his schools playground when he was like 6 if that counts!

He obviously overthinks here and there so whenever he needs to ground himself you'll just feel his hand on your lower back, pinching the tip of your sleeve or in your hair.

He's not against PDA but he's also not for it. Like he's not afraid of a few pecks here and there and a hand around your waist but he won't be the type of guy to wear a shirt with your face on it, that's far too embarassing for him.

He hates it when people underestimate him for things which makes him work himself harder to prove his worth. This causes him to burn himself out quickly but no matter how much you yell at him he won't change cause at the end of the day you always hold him and rub circles into his back whilst playing his favourite show.

He loves to call you petnames, but only in private. He loves to call you his "angel" and "honey" mostly but calls you "baby" from time to time. If you two are joking around he'll say really stupid names like "my boo boo bear" or "my pookie schnookie" with a stupid dopey grin on his face ♡

He's happy to play whatever you want whenever. Especially roblox! He loves to play 2 player tycoons and 2 player obbies with you the most but also plays Dress to Impress and Flicker with you.

Your first kiss together was embarassing to say the least. When kissing he accidently bumped your head really hard with his own, leaving a bump. He would not stop apologising for the next week until the bump on your head finally went down. (To this day he cringes when thinking about it but can't help but smile)

Thank you so so much for reading and I hope you liked them. I still have like a million other headcannons for these boys but I can't fit them all here ♡ This was my first time properly posting so I hope it looks okay !! This was super fun so I'll definitely be posting more characters soon. If you have any requests please let me know and I'll do them. Thank you!

[paper-mario-wiki]

like genuinely i think if you weren't on this website, it wouldn't be as fun. you contribute a lot of enjoyment to this place, if that makes sense

thank you, i appreciate that!

i sometimes wonder about what i am "known as" or understood as, specifically on tumblr. like, i wonder what kind of entity im seen as beyond the scope of my own audience, or even my demographic.

i wonder back to previous Big Bloggers and their eventual retirements, or the circumstances leading to their deletion-- social or otherwise. i recall all of the tumblr villains that werent really "villains" as much as they were people being annoying while flawed, with a platform that can be somewhat difficult to get away from depending on what circles you're in, and therefore had people grow resentful of them. i wonder if my presence, broadly speaking, is enjoyed.

i hope that it is, because im aware that it will reach the dashboards of many people who didnt ask to see it. i hope the people who see me often, despite their absolute disinterest in seeking me out for themselves, havent grown sour on my pettiness, or my arrogance, or my vanity, or my stubbornness, or my haughty hobbyist intellectualism and half baked scholar talk. those things are the parts of me that people who enjoy the other parts of me can tolerate, or even grow to understand to be in coexistence with the other parts of me. i guess it just comes down to having faith in the good faith of others, and hoping that even if they cannot find it in themselves to like me, they do not find it in themselves to hate me either.

sorry for rambling a bit but the specific phrasing of your message made me think about this.

consider it an explanation for why i appreciate your message!

[centrally-unplanned]

Academic History YouTuber Premodernist released video recently on "State Flag" discourse, and flag discourse more wildly, that I thought was pretty good! I agreed with 50% of it. For those who don't know, there is a longstanding movement in the vexillology community to push for more simplified flag designs, and they hate the state flags of the US as their antithesis; a movement that catapulted into the internet mainstream when YouTuber CGPGrey released a video riffing on that debate and grading all the state flag designs.

That video is great by the way (it's hilarious, CGP Grey is just very talented as a performer), and the biggest thing Premodernist is wrong about is that the state flags do suck. But what he gets right is that the so-called "principles" briefly referred to in the video are themselves pretty weak; some are fine but others do not hold up to much scrutiny. The state flags largely suck for the boring reason that they just suck; they are shitty designs and often repeat each other in a domain where "standing out" is the point. Like what the fuck Montana:

This is something a 5th grader whips up in PowerPoint for a class presentation. Helvetica Bold?? "Mandated by law in 1985" yeah I didn't need Wikipedia tell me this decision dates to the 80's.

But that is boring and subjective, right? You can't just say they suck. So you had to make a theory about it - and I won't go into too much detail but it generally boils down to:

Make it simple, "something a child could draw"

Make it "distinct at a distance", since it is a flag you are supposed to see it at a distance

Three colors or fewer

No words on flags

Which I think you can get the philosophy for. These principles, which CGP Grey outlines, actually come from the work of Ted Kaye, who is a big figure in the aforementioned flag reform movement and the focus of most of the video. As part of the original CGP Grey video I just rolled with that, but I did remember him showing Utah's newly designed flag at the end which embodied these principles, and uh:

This is kind of mid? Like it doesn't suck, but it looks like a corporate redesign of a hockey team logo or something. A bit of a red flag (hah) if your front-and-center case is weak.

Anyway this is what Premodernist digs into in the video. The stuff I agreed with the most are the parts where he just ???? at some of these rules. "No finicky bits", a "child must draw it", "distinct at a distance"? None of these actually track for say this one:

A child drawing the US flag does not draw 50 stars and 13 stripes unless they are a budding librarian; you absolutely cannot tell if this flag has 50 stars on it from a distance, and that level of detail is clearly some kind of finicky. Of course your response is "okay sure but still, I can tell what the flag is from a distance, I can't count the 50 stars but I get the gist". But that is true for almost all flags!

It's a fern and a peace pipe and a brown thing and the word "Oklahoma" below it, you absolutely, 100%, will be able to tell what this flag is at a distance. You don't need to count the leaves to get the general shape, and when you think about it, it is actually kind of silly anyone would claim otherwise. There just isn't any need to appreciate the tiny details on a flag to understand whose flag it is. (the only valid critique here is that everything should be bigger - too much dead space)

Not to mention the "see from a distance" thing even being a metric. That isn't how you encounter flags most often today? Maybe in the 19th century on a battlefield that was (and even then you had battle standards), but it isn't now. You see it in textbooks, on your computer screen, as an icon for a football game team, right next to you in a government office. Why privilege distance? You just made that up as a value. 99% of "flag consumption" is not seeing it at a distance.

The "only use ~3 colors thing" is the funniest, you can just argue this with...no? No you don't. You don't. What? No. You can...you can just use more colors? Here is an example from the "manual" Ted Kaye wrote on the subject:

And the 5 bands on the chinese flag are fine! They are not "hard to look at" or whatever. Also, I am screenshotting a tiny corner of a youtube video, this image is like 240p, and I can tell its a dragon - and that isn't even the color point it is trying to make, dude just deviates off into another critique. Meanwhile the Amsterdam flag looks like a traffic warning sign. Chinese flag needs to not have the white stripe connect into the white seal background, that is an error, but otherwise I prefer it.

It is annoying how many of the state flags are a blue banners with a round seal in the middle. That does make them hard to distinguish from each other. But that isn't a problem with seal-on-blue, that is just a collective action problem! Flag-reform-favourite the tricolor can run into this too - here are the flags of the Netherlands and Luxembourg:

Like one of your needs to go home and change, that is ridiculous. Though if you had a complex seal in the middle that might avoid this problem! Funny that.

Even the "no words on a flag" argument, which I am more sympathetic to, doesn't hold up too well because too often you find yourself going "unless it is good" which just isn't a rule. The Iranian flag is the stand-out he mentions:

The middle crest is a stylized rendition of the name Allah, and the cursive lining on the tricolor bands are text as well - God Is Great, 22 times, marking the anniversary date of the Islamic Revolution. Stylistically beautiful, also words on a flag. The state flags just didn't try to do anything artistic.

I think the best point Premodernism mentions is a sort of stylistic unity Kaye & Co are pursuing above all else - everything sacrificed for corporate minimalism. Kaye's book will say it respects history and symbols should be meaningful, but then hates any symbols that require complexity. He singles out Turkmenistan as an ugly flag for example:

And as I said I only 50% disagree sometimes, I do think there is a complexity limit, and this flag goes over it, that is too detailed. Though the main reason this flag is bad is the weird choice to not put the banner at the edge, and have the crescent just...float off center? If it was this:

Two seconds in paint, already better, you can play with it. But anyway, you can say the symbols are too complex, but if you also say you care about historical meaning? Turkmenistan is a nation of traditional semi-nomadic tribes, who populated the Silk Road and made textiles as their ultimate expression of art. These carpet guls are traditional symbols used in those carpets that represent the five major tribes that compose the country. You can't just invent new symbols that have equal meaning to these, right? Like you can try if you want, sure, new symbols become meaningful all the time. But a rule that says "all art from before 1950 is tossed in the dumpster because it wouldn't pass muster as a Pepsi logo" is a weird rule to adopt if you say you value historical meaning. Turkmenistan does not have to look like France, and it is weird to want every national symbol to be aesthetically coherent to each other. Let 100 flags bloom! It is certainly "distinct at a distance" lol.

Anyway that is enough summarizing of a YouTube video - as I mentioned, he actually likes the state flags, I don't, I do think you have to balance a lot of this with just "general design principles". Never have your name on a flag in Helvetica Bold, amazing I had to write that one down for you. But a lot of these flag-specific rules derived from Kaye's work I often see bandied about are silly, and I was glad to see someone point that out.

[janeyseymour]

All I Ask

Loosely based off of two prompts: one where R asks Mel to hold her as more than just a friend the night before Mel goes on a first date, and another where both R and Mel are set up on blind dates (requested by @gwennybriggs)... enjoy.

WC: ~4.15k

One thing about Barbara Howard is that she loves to play match maker.

“All I’m saying, Melissa, is maybe it’s time to get yourself back out there!” Barbara antagonizes her best friend once again during a lunch period. The kindergarten teacher looks to you with a small smirk. She knows of your feelings for a certain redhead sitting in between the two of you, and she’s hoping that the second grade teacher will just take the damned hint. The kindergarten teacher also knows of the feelings that Melissa harbors for you. 

“And all I’m sayin’, Barbara,” Melissa says that name with a pointed tone. “Is that I don’t need no one in my life to ‘complete’ me, or whatever bullshit you wanna tell me being in love does.”

“Melissa, it’s been two years since you broke it off with Gary. Don’t you think it’s time to get yourself back out there? Just maybe?”

“I don’t need nobody- not when I have a happy life as it is.”

That is the end of the conversation for the time being, but then Melissa starts to think it over. Maybe what Barbara is saying is true- it’s been a while. And she does miss having someone to fall asleep with at night. Although… whenever you come over, the two of you end up curled up on the couch together, and occasionally you will spend the night in her bed with her.

It’s platonic. It’s just friends being friends. At least that’s what Melissa tells herself. That’s what you tell yourself too when you lay in bed with her at night and wonder if maybe, just maybe, this is something more. 

So the next time you’re over, Melissa asks you about it.

“What do you think about what Barb was saying the other day at school? About… finding love and all that shit?” the redhead asks you as her head lays in your lap.

You stiffen slightly, not sure if this is your chance to say anything. Green eyes look up to meet your own, trying to figure out your thoughts.

“I mean, I think it might be good for you,” you shrug softly.

“Well,” she says as she sits up to look at you more intensely. “What about for you? Miss eternally single?”

The reason you’ve been single as long as you have been is because of your feelings for the redhead, not that she knows it. You shrug your shoulders ever so slightly, letting her know that you have hesitations in your answer. “I guess maybe I could consider going out on a date or something.”

So the next day at school, during lunch, love lives are the topic of the staff room.

“I was thinking… what if we set you up with someone I know?” Barbara asks. “C’mon, you know I would pick someone good for you.”

Melissa sighs a great breath. “Will it get you off my back if I say yes?” At the kindergarten teacher’s nod, the redhead swallows harshly before, “Fine.”

“Oh, how wonderful. I know just who I should set you up with!”

“You know, Y/N and I were talkin’ last night, and she’s thinkin’ ‘bout getting back into the dating game too. You know of anyone to set her up with, Lowercase?” Melissa asks.

Janine’s eyes brighten, and you can swear you see them almost start to sparkle at the idea of getting to play match maker for you. “I do!”

“Oi,” you roll your eyes and shake your head. You elbow the second grade teacher sitting next to you gently. “Way to throw me under the bus.”

“If I gotta do it, so d’you.”

As you and the redheaded second grade teacher head out a few minutes early to use the restroom before picking up your kids from lunch, Barbara whips around to look at Janine and the rest of the group.

“I’m going to say something, and what I say must be kept between those of us in this room,” the veteran teacher says seriously. “That means nobody will tell Melissa or Y/N.”

“Barb, how am I supposed to not tell them?” Jacob asks incredulously.

Barbara stares him down intensely. “If you cannot vow to not say a word to your roommate about this, then you may leave.”

The social studies teacher’s hands raise in surrender, and he urges her silently to continue.

“You’ve all noticed the way those two are always together, and Y/N has stolen my work wife, yes?”

She’s met with a chorus of affirmations as well as head nods. Jacob puts in that you’re almost always over, and that occasionally you end up spending the night after a glass too many.

“I’ve had about enough of this tiptoeing around that those two love sick fools are doing,” Barbara rolls her eyes. “So, I am going to pretend to send Melissa up with one of my friends. Janine, you will set up Y/N with one of your friends. And we all ensure together that the two of them end up in the same place at the same time without them finding out that they will be showing up to the same date, yes?”

“Oh my god!” Jacob grins and claps his hands together in excitement. “We all get to play match maker!”

“Do you see now why we mustn’t speak a word of this to Melissa or Y/N?” Barbara looks at the excited man pointedly.

He gives a serious nod.

That day, Barbara gives a talking head to the camera men. Janine joins her. 

“When Barbara Howard wants something, Barbara Howard gets that thing,” the kindergarten teacher states. “And what Barbara Howard wants now more than anything is for those two to get their heads out of their asses. The two of them… flirting harder than Janine and Gregory were before they finally pulled their acts together.”

“Hey!” Janine gasps. “Did I only get pulled into this interview to get insulted?”

The veteran teacher just gives her a knowing look and a pat on the shoulder.

The next day, Barbara comes in with a pep in her step as she knows that her plan will soon be put into place.

“What has you in such a chipper mood?” Melissa asks as she pours herself and you a cup of coffee before the kids come in. The redhead places your cup where she knows you’ll end up once you show up for the day.

The kindergarten teacher looks to Janine, who is sitting very quietly (for once), before grinning. “I found the perfect person for you to go out on a date with.”

“Oh?”

“A friend of mine,” is all Barb offers up. “So, you have a date at six tomorrow night at The Dandelion.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Would you rather I change it to tonight?”

A blush creeps into the second grade teacher’s cheeks. “No. No thank you.”

It’s only a few minutes later that you walk into the room, cheeks flushed from the cool air outside. 

“Hey,” Melissa smiles softly at you. She juts her chin out in the direction of your steaming hot cup of coffee. “Made it for you already.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” you grin as you go to put your lunch in the refrigerator. “I think I’m going to need it today.”

“Well,” the second grade teacher chuckles as you sit down next to her. “If you need another cup, you know you can always ask me to grab you another.”

You lay a gentle hand on her knee and squeeze it affectionately. “You’re the best.”

Mr. Johnson smirks at the camera.

Because the group has conspired to set the two of you up unknowingly to you and Melissa, no one speaks of the redhead’s date at lunch- much to her surprise. Melissa will take it though- not having to deal with the crew on her back about it.

“You comin’ back to my place today?” the second grade teacher asks as you’re packing up your lunch.

You nod with a small smile as you nudge her affectionately. “I’ll bring the wine?”

“Should I bring enough for Jacob too?”

“I will be out with a new man, so no need,” the social studies teacher cuts into your conversation. “Hopefully, this one works out.”

So, you and your coworker end up on the couch together after a long day with a delicious meal and a rather full glass of wine in front of each of you.

“So, anything interesting happen at school today for you?” you ask as you lay your head down in the redhead’s lap.

Melissa hums softly before sighing. “Barb is setting me up with her friend. I have a date tomorrow.”

Your eyes widen ever so slightly. “Oh?”

She shrugs, trying to gauge how you feel about that. And thankfully, you’re able to mask your true emotions on the matter. “That’s nice. It seems like everyone is starting to put themselves out there lately.”

“I’m sure Janine will find someone for you soon enough,” the redhead tells you. “You’re a catch, and someone is bound to see that sooner or later.”

You grimace. You’re not so sure about that. And even if you were, you only want one person, and it’s becoming more and more clear to you that you’ll never have your chance with her. So, in that moment, you decide that starting tomorrow maybe you need to start distancing yourself from Melissa in order to get over this silly crush you have on her. You have to get yourself back out there without her constantly lingering in the back of your mind.

“Hun,” she thinks she’s reading you like a book. “C’mon, you’re a great woman. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re beautiful, and then when you let your personality shine through… you’re the real-”

You shake your head as you sit up. “Can we just… not talk about this right now? I just want to enjoy tonight with you… savor our time alone while I can before someone swoops in and steals you from me.”

Green eyes meet yours, filled with a pleading look to just drop the matter of the conversation. It’s clear to you that she wants to continue to try to boost your confidence and build you up, but she relents. “So, did anything interesting happen at school with you today?”

After polishing off the bottle of wine that you brought over, Melissa ends up bringing out a second bottle. You hate to admit that you perhaps have a few too many glasses just because you’re trying to drown out your sorrows about not ever being able to tell the woman next to you how you feel and that this is probably the last night you’ll have with her where things are exactly the way they are now.

“C’mon, hun,” Melissa nudges you gently after your head has hit her shoulder for the fourth time that night. “Let’s just head to bed.”

You nod against her shoulder sleepily, but you make no moves to get up.

“Y/N,” the redhead nudges you again. “C’mon.”

“I’m comfortable here,” you yawn out. “You’re comfortable.”

“I can be comfortable up in my bed too,” Melissa retorts with a small laugh. “I can’t sleep on a couch anymore, so c’mon.”

You let out a small whine but disentangle yourself from her own limbs before looking at her with a pout.

“Trust me,” your coworker sighs as she sets a hand on the small of your back to guide you up the steps. “You being grumpy and getting up for a proper night’s sleep is much better than me being a bitch tomorrow because I woke up sore after a night of sleeping on the couch.”

You nod your head begrudgingly. The two of you crawl into bed as you usually do- both having respective sides. A chill rushes through you as the wine drunkenness begins to wear off and your met with the cool sensation of Melissa’s fan running in her bedroom.

“You cold?” the redhead asks as she lifts an arm for you to scoot under.

You nod as you shimmy into her space with a soft smile. Her arm wraps around you and pulls you even closer.

In a rather bold move, instead of laying your head on her shoulder, you turn to face her with a sad smile.

“What’s wrong?” Melissa asks you. “Are you still cold? Should I get extra blankets?”

You shake your head. “I just… things are going to change if all goes well with you and this man Barb’s setting you up with, and if Janine ever finds someone for me.”

Melissa just hums. She’s not quite sure what to say to you about this. What you’re saying is true, and it’s becoming clear to her that you aren’t necessarily thrilled with that. If she’s being honest with herself, she isn’t too fond of the idea of things changing between the two of you either.

“And… I know it’s dumb, and I know that we aren’t together, but I like what we have,” you mumble.

“I do too, hun,” Melissa squeezes your hand gently.

“Can we just… pretend for tonight?”

“What do you mean?” Green eyes look at you curiously.

“Pretend that we’re not scared of what’s coming next, or scared of having nothing left?” You quote Adele’s lyrics unknowingly. “Like… if this is my last night with you, where everything is how it usually is, can you hold me like I’m more than just a friend?” You know you’re still drunk, or at least somewhat intoxicated. If Melissa shoots you down, you can blame the alcohol. And if she doesn’t, tomorrow you can excuse your question with the alcohol too. What do you really have to lose? Not much, if you’re being honest with yourself.

The way that she pulls you close to her and wraps her arms around your waist simultaneously makes your heart grow three sizes and break. What is happening feels so right, but you know that this is only one time. It won’t ever happen again. You feel warm lips against your neck, and you inhale deeply. Why can’t this dream of yours be a reality?

As the redhead beside you gently nips at your neck, just once, she too has feelings of regret. Why is it that she only wants you right now?

The two of you fall asleep dreaming about the same thing- a life together. 

You wake first, and the feeling of still being in Melissa’s arms has you practically swooning. If anything, throughout the night, she held onto you tighter than she had while awake. It’s warm and domestic, and you can smell the perfume she was wearing last night as it surrounds and intoxicates you.

You lay there in a peaceful bliss until her alarm starts going off. She wakes with a small jolt before her eyes peel open, and you’re met with her sparkling eyes.

“Hey, hun,” Melissa smiles at you. “You sleep off all that wine last night?”

You roll your eyes playfully as you prepare to pull yourself away from her- as much as you don’t want to. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Hungover at all?”

You shake your head, only to sheepishly start nodding before rolling away from her. “My head is pounding.”

“Well, you know where the advil is,” the second grade teacher chuckles as she starts to sit up. “And I’ll make us breakfast and coffee, so hopefully the hangover lessens.”

As you get ready, neither of you speak of the events that happened last night. You quietly note that you’re surprised Jacob didn’t make his way back to the apartment last night, but that’s really all the two of you talk about. And then you’re off to Abbott in your car, while she follows behind in her own.

At school, you don’t settle in next to the redhead like you usually would for the morning news. Instead, you make up a lame excuse about having to do work in your classroom. You don’t even take the offered second cup of coffee from your coworker. You have to start distancing yourself if you’re going to survive working at her while she starts dating again.

During lunch, you make your way into the staff room quietly and grab your meal from the refrigerator before trying to make your way out relatively unnoticed. It doesn’t work. Of course, Melissa wants you to sit with her like you usually do.

“I- I think I need some peace and quiet,” you offer meekly. “But thanks.”

You’re out the door by the time Melissa is huffing about your actions. “Girl damn near lost her mind, I swear.”

It’s towards the end of the day when Janine approaches you.

“Janine, I really can’t today if you’re going to try to rope me into ‘saving the school’ again,” you sigh as you begin to gather your things in your arms. 

“It’s nothing like that,” the energetic woman tells you quickly. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day.”

“Didn’t really look at my phone today,” you grumble.

“Well, I wish you would’ve. I know you have nothing to do after school today, so… my friend got back to me. You have a date tonight.”

“I’m not going on a-”

“Yes, you are,” Janine tells you in a strict, out of character, tone. “Be at The Dandelion at six.”

“Janine,” you groan. “I just want to-”

“You’ll be at The Dandelion, or my friend is going to be really pissed with me. Please.”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” the short woman struggles to come up with an answer on the fly. “Because you’ve been single for so long, and with everyone else getting back out there again… it might be good for you. C’mon, just one date. That’s all my friend is asking for- and then… if you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it again.”

“Fine.”

Janine squeals happily. “My friend will be in a green shirt tonight, so keep an eye out.” The second grade teacher knows what Melissa will be wearing because that was the topic of the staff room today at lunch, which you were not at.

You’re absolutely dreading this. You do not want to be at The Dandelion to go on a date with one of Janine’s friends. And yet, you still find yourself changing into a pair of jeans and a nicer shirt to go to dinner.

Upon your arrival, you survey the area, only to discover that you’re there before your mystery person in green. You find a seat at the bar and sigh, ordering a glass of wine.

About five minutes later, you see someone in green walk in, but they look oddly familiar. It- It’s Melissa. Fuck. She too surveys the area, clearly looking for her date. The redhead has no such luck, but she does lock eyes with you and give a small wave before making her way over.

“What are you doing here?” she asks quietly. “Come to spy on my date?”

You take a sip of your wine. “Actually, Janine set me up on a date, but they aren’t here yet.”

Melissa hums indifferently. “Neither is my date. What do you say we just wait together here?”

Not necessarily knowing how to reject her offer, you nod and pull out the stool next to you for her to sit on. She too orders a glass of wine, and once she’s served, she looks at you.

“So, we gonna talk about why you pulled away from all of us today at school?”

You blow out a breath. “I had some things to do in my classroom.” You can tell those green eyes boring into your soul don’t believe you, so you attempt to change the subject. “How were the kids today for you?”

By 6:25, neither of your dates have shown. The two of you are sitting together quietly nursing your wine and still looking around.

When the time hits 6:30, you sigh. “Do you think they’re going to show?”

The redhead glances down at her watch. “Half an hour late, and still not here? I doubt it.”

“What the fuck?” you groan. “I’m going to kill Janine.”

“Barb ain’t gettin any of my meatballs any time soon,” your coworker grumbles as she pulls out her phone.

You dial Janine, fully intending on giving her a piece of your mind. She picks up after two rings.

“Hey! How’s it going?” she answers as cheerily as she always does.

“Your stupid friend never showed up,” you grit out.

You can practically see the face Janine makes as she gasps out a, “What? No, they did!”

“No they didn’t!” you hiss into the phone. “I’ve been sitting here for the last half an hour waiting for someone in green to show up, and no one has!”

“No, my friend definitely showed up, I know it.”

At the same time, Melissa is on the phone with Barbara.

“Barb, your friend never showed! I’ve been sitting here with Y/N for the last half hour waiting.”

“My friend definitely did show,” Barbara’s voice is calm and steady as always.

It takes the two of you a few seconds to let their words sink in before you realize you’ve been played.

“You set us up,” both you and Melissa hiss into the phones at the same time.

Only then do both of your coworker step out of a booth with smiles on their faces. “Maybe.” They both hang up, wave to you with shit eating grins, and then head out of the restaurant together. 

Slowly, you turn to Melissa with wide eyes. She does the same.

“So, you’re my date?” she asks you.

“You’re mine?” you stammer out. “But I-”

“Those two are going to get it tomorrow.”

You let out a nervous chuckle as you tuck a few locks of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. They are.”

“Well,” the redhead sighs. “I guess we should get a table and have dinner.”

“You- you want to go on this date with me?” you fumble over your words. At her nod, you blush, but the smile that washes over your face is genuine and radiant.

Dinner is nice- it’s… it’s different than the other meals the two of you have shared in the past though. Conversation flows easily between the two of you as it usually does, before she takes a deep breath.

“Y/N, we should… we should talk about this.”

Her tone tells you that she’s not interested in the slightest, and you grimace. “I can just… I can just go.” You go to grab your handbag, but a hand stops you as fingers wrap around your wrist.

“I didn’t mean that,” she rolls her eyes. She tugs you in close, and her lips meet yours softly for the first time.

Your eyes go wide as you realize that the woman of your dreams is sitting here kissing you before you reciprocate. And… wow. 

“Y-you-” you stammer out once you’ve pulled away.

She just chuckles and kisses you again. Mumbled against your lips are the words, “I’m glad you’re my date, and not someone else.”

All you can do is smile. Once you pull away, you tell her, “I am too. I was not looking forward to going out with one of Janine’s friends.”

“I mean,” Melissa nudges you. “You kind of are going out with one of her friend’s right now.”

You shrug. “I guess she didn’t lie when she told me I was meeting her friend. I just… didn’t expect it to be you.”

“I didn’t expect you to be Barb’s friend either, hun,” your coworker teases you.

That night, you end up back at her place, and unlike last night where the two of you were just pretending to hold and be held as more than just a friend, it’s real. You are more than friend’s now- doing what lovers do. It’s soft, it’s sweet, it’s domestic, it’s warm… it’s everything you could’ve dreamed of when it comes to Melissa.

Your hand is laced in hers as you walk into the staff room the next morning, and Barbara and Janine look rather content with the charade that they had pulled off the night before. It’s clear to you that the others are aware of the situation before them, as Jacob can only grin and fist pump somewhat discretely.

“You still ain’t getting my meatballs anytime soon,” Melissa grumbles at her work wife as she makes her way over to the coffee machine.

“Well worth it, Melissa dear,” the kindergarten teacher chuckles into her own mug. “Well worth it if it means that the two of you finally got your heads out of your asses and are together.”

TAGS: (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie

[flying-fangirls]

As a music, religion, and literature nerd, the Dies Irae has been one of my favorite go-to pieces of trivia for a long time, which means that this line:

Has been driving me batshit BONKERS since part 42! And also as a semi-professional media analysis yapper, I figured I might as well dive into the exact reasons I jumped up and audibly gasped upon first hearing this line and have subsequently lost my mind since then. So!

Here is why I think that the Dies Irae is the perfect analogy for John and Arthur:

Religion

Let's start with the most straightforward meaning: "Dies Irae" is a Latin term, and it translates to the "Day of Wrath." Or otherwise known as the Judgement Day, the foretold second coming in Catholic canon, when Christ will "come again in glory to judge the living and the dead." It's at this Last Judgement where God will wield perfect justice to send the worthy to everlasting peace and the unworthy to everlasting punishment. (everyone say "thank you" to excessive childhood Catholic lessons for burning this into my brain)

There's a kind of irony to the fact that Arthur so vehemently rejects Christianity and religion as a whole, and that John spends much of his arc trying to distance himself from the role/identity of a god, yet both are given this incredibly religious title, effectively restricting them from ever forgetting the presence/influence of religion in their lives.

This title has a couple layers though, because we have to consider why it's the Day of Wrath specifically that represents Arthur and John. Now, I don't think I have to tell you that those two are bursting with anger 80% of the time. But I am going to tell you that those two are not just angry, but moreso "divine fury" incarnate.

The Day of Wrath, the Final Judgment, is the final and eternal judgment of God on all: "For now before the Judge severe / all hidden things must plain appear; / no crime can pass unpunished here." (Dies Irae, Dies Illa). The final Judge, the all-powerful God, can see the objective morality of every single person, and is thus the sole, rightful determiner of fate.

This assumption of their right to perfectly and single-handedly decide others' worthiness shows up over and over, not just John and Arthur's actions, but also in how they describe these judgments.

When Arthur kills the widow on the island, it's not because she was dangerous, but because she was a cultist who "deserved" to be punished.

When John and Arthur need to get rid of Mr. Scratch's stone, John says they should give it to "criminals" who are "deserving of this curse." Even though, just moments before, Arthur refused to give the stone to Oscar because to do so would be to cursing him to a fate of eternal suffering.

And I can't go into every single detail about the entire Larson plotline because this post would double in size, but it obviously needs to be included here. Possibly the strongest tie between this arc and the idea of the Dies Irae is Arthur's conviction through it all. Arthur vows that he is going to kill Larson in divine retribution not because he wants to, but because he has to. He even goes so far as to admit that killing Larson will be a mistake, a cruel and overly-bloodthirsty action that goes against his compassion. But killing Larson isn't a choice to Arthur, it is the unavoidable punishment for Larson's sins and Arthur is simply the enactor of justice. Just like the Final Judgment, there is no sympathy, no hesitancy— the judgment is absolute, divinely ordained, and cannot be stopped no matter how undeniably horrific it is.

If we look at the Catholic Catechism, principle 2302 states that it is sinful to kill out of desire, but that it is "praiseworthy to impose restitution" and use violence to "maintain justic." So even if Arthur has intent to kill, his actions count as divinely sanctioned. He is acting as the hand of God's punishment.

Over the course of Season 3 and 4, Arthur's fiery rage dies down to a more gentle simmer, but his conviction only seems to grow, and John follows suit. Despite previously reprimanding Arthur for his unquestioning wrath, John eventually becomes just as convinced that Larson "deserves" to face a wrathful reckoning. The "fact" that Larson is wholly unforgivable and is fated to receive eternal punishment becomes more indisputable in their minds, and they both stop questioning the morality of their intentions, entirely convinced of their judgment.

Throughout the story, Arthur and John insist upon the importance of kindness, compassion, and forgiveness, and say that these are the values that guide their every action. Yet, time and time again, they approach certain people with nothing but wrath and resentment. It's a sharp contrast to the benevolent figures they make themselves out to be, and Arthur and John are often blind to the contradiction because, in their eyes, they are still following those values in every action. And in the moments when they do recognize their horrific words or actions, they still cannot let their judgment go, convinced that it is their "duty" either way.

In Part 35, Arthur says "Just because you can't make the hard decision, doesn't mean it's wrong." This is exactly how John and Arthur view themselves. They know that some of their actions are harsh and violent and painful, but they are don't view that violence as wrong, because they are enacting that violence in justice. They move through life with carefully-selected destruction, culling the world of those they view as unforgivable sinners, and punishing them with divine righteousness. Arthur and John carry righteous fury in their every step, bringing the Day of Wrath down upon the world around them.

Now, there's already a ton of meaning just in this religious allusion alone. However, there's another application of the Dies Irae in modern culture, which brings us to the second side of this title:

Music

Back in the 13th century (sounds like a familiar setting...), friar Thomas of Celano wrote a poem for and about the Dies Irae. The poem was recited at Requiem Mass (church services to honor the dead), and it ended up being set to a Gregorian chant tune.

Over time, this melody has been used by a variety of composers, but the one we're focused on is Hector Berlioz. In 1837, Berlioz used the Dies Irae melody as part of his narrative symphony, Grand Messe de morts, in order to communicate that the main character had died. Then a lot of other composers saw that and said "Hey that's a cool idea!", and started also using this melody to represent death in their music. Nowadays, it's a fairly staple part of modern film and musical storytelling. If you've listened to literally any major soundtrack, then there's a good chance you've heard this motif (or a variation of it) used before. It's often subtle, sometimes loud and obvious, but no matter what, it reveals the inevitable presence of death. (essentially, the Dies Irae=death)

Now, obviously there's something tragically ironic about Arthur being likened to a musical motif when he tries so hard to distance himself from it, and there's something tragically ironic about John being associated with such a dark piece of music when he shows so much fascination and joy toward the art. Again, though, we've got some layers here. Yorick doesn't just compare Arthur and John to the Dies Irae, he literally defines them as the Dies Irae, a full embodiment of it.

Even before the story started, Arthur lost both of his parents, his friend and wife, his daughter, and his best friend.

John, when he was part of the King in Yellow, knew only how to harm and attack. In the Dark World, he falls back on this fearful lashing out with violence, harming even more people.

And throughout the story, John and Arthur seem to bring devastation to everyone else around them: Lilly the buopoth, Oscar, Noel, Collins, Daniel, Larson and Yellow.

The arrival of Dies Irae musical motif in a film always indicates that death is approaching or that is has already struck— a host carrying its blight to spread onto others. Just like the musical motif, the arrival of Arthur and John foretells the near-arrival of death. They play a duet together— John and Arthur, and death— always singing and dancing around and with each other.

These two never succumb to death, always finding a way to slip through its fingers and survive every situation. But they cannot escape death's presence because they are death's partner— singing the melody to death's subtle harmony. They cannot escape death because they are its host— destined to carry and spread devastation to death's victims. From the moment you meet John and Arthur, you know that death is inevitably approaching just a step behind, waiting to strike you down.

Whether it's the religious or musical side, we can see that John and Arthur are the literal embodiment of these allusions. They carry these powers and ideas in their every action and word, in their every step, in their very breath and blood.

Arthur and John. The hands of God's justice. The enactors of divine fury.

Arthur and John. The hosts of blight and destruction. The partner of death's song.

The man himself. The voice inside his head.

The Day of Wrath. The Dies Irae.

[werewolfsister]

PSA: COMIC DRAMA

I've been slowly receiving critical, entitled, and passive-aggressive messages about the way I've been writing my comic! I wanted to address this behavior.

That being said, the majority of my readers have been nothing but positive! And when they spot a problem, they're kind about it. I really appreciate this; thank you to those who choose to be civil.

I'm making this post to address some issues, complaints, and questions I've seen. Let's take a look & see what we can discuss!

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT!

🦈-> I want you to use my character in your comic, but you're not using them! Sometimes, a character doesn't quite fit my vision for the comic-- even when they're designs that I love! I really do try to use as many people's characters as possible. I think it adds to the world & makes the comic feel more full of life! But I can't accommodate everyone's desires.

🐟->You're using my character in your comic, but you're not giving them enough screen time! Similar to the above issue, sometimes I don't think focusing on a particular character for any longer will serve the story well. Ultimately, I have final say on what happens in the comic. My advice is, if you feel your character isn't appearing enough, make your own content! Draw, write, craft, etc like I mention farther down below!

🐠->You said you were going to use my diplomat/character(s), but you only drew them in 1-2 panels. Why aren't you using them more? Similar to the points above! I was never planning on going into a TON of depth with the diplomats-- the comic focus also drastically changed, as I mention below.

🐡->You're using characters in the story that I don't like! Ahh that is too bad, but! In that case, you can always take a break from the comic & come back later to check if the characters are no longer being used, or maybe stop reading the comic altogether. However! If you have concerns with how the character is portrayed because of legitimate sexual/violence/illicit/illegal issues, then that's another issue entirely and you should let me know.

🪼->I thought this story was about rescuing Kenne, but now she's not even in the comic! I don't like the way this story is going! This is a big issue some people are having and I completely understand. There's been a lot of things going on behind the scenes that I haven't explained, which must be generating a lot of confusion. Originally, @kenneduck and I were collaborating closely on this comic. Recently, the dynamic shifted, and we're now working on the comic separately. @kenneduck is now responsible for the part of the story that heavily features her characters, i.e. Princess Kenne's perspective of the rescue, her rescue effort, and what's happening in the Domain of the Luminous trench. I am now working on a different angle of the story-- the diplomatic efforts of Zora's Domain in their attempt to negotiate for Princess Kenne's return. So, the story is still the same... the focuses have just changed and split!

🦑->You reblogged my fan art and/or linked it in your comic directory-- does that make my content canon? Oooh, this is actually kind of a tough one! Normally, if something is in the comic directory, I consider it to be canon to the story. So, if you've drawn something, and I add it to my directory for a comic chapter, I'll consider it to have happened in real time. THERE'S AN EXCEPTION! And it may be confusing, so I'm genuinely sorry! If you have drawn something where you are heavily modifying someone else's character--this means cosmetic changes, giving the character children/spouses/family, killing the character, altering their personality-- WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION, then I cannot accept that as canon. It's still fantastic that you drew/wrote/created something and I will probably put it in the MISCELLANEOUS section of the comic directory. I'VE MADE MISTAKES ON THIS! So, I've since updated the directory. And, sorry for all confusion on this issue! If you've made something & intended it to be canon, let's talk about it!

🐳->I want to collaborate with you on your comic, can I do that? That's awesome! Maybe in the future, but right now I'm not taking on any more partners. Maybe you can make your own separate additions, with your character(s) like I mention below!

🐙>I want to make fan art, can I do that? You absolutely can. Go for it. This was originally meant to be a very interactive comic, so draw/write/create away!!!

🦀->I want to draw my character(s) doing something in the world of your comic, can I do that? You absolutely can. Go for it! Like I mentioned above, however, I may or may not deem it canon to the events of the comic. But even if I don't, I'll add it to the MISCELLANEOUS section of my comic directory! ...as long as you don't alterate someone's character without permission! If you've made something & intended it to be canon, let's talk about it!

🐬->I want to make a character based on a Domain you created/idea you drew/etc., can I do that? Of course! Go for it. I love seeing what people make!

I know this is a lot of text, but it's better to be comprehensive! Please, keep in mind, I'm just one hobby artist making a comic for fun, with the spirit of interactivity and collaboration in mind. But it's impossible to keep that spirit going when people feel entitled and demand things of me that I am not obligated to give.

I queue out my pages several weeks in advance with the help of the people I'm working with, so what you see in the comic is the product of a lot of thought and work. You're getting something for free here, y'all. It ain't so serious!!!!

Anyways, thanks for reading this! And for reading the comic! Peace out ✌️

[archangel-lucerys]

This is hands down the dumbest fandom i have ever encountered, they will see a media criticising birth and circumstance affecting people's right to live essentially and still go with the side of blood purity and slut shaming, because that is what a bastard is, a shame for woman who had been "loose" and had a kid out of wedlock or with a man she wasn't married to. Who even thinks like this:

"Bastards cannot be legally trueborn, unless by official royal decree of the King himself, and tricking the realm into thinking your children are trueborn when you have never publically declared them as bastards, so they can inherit over their non bastard relatives, is treason."

I think the funniest part will always be this: "and tricking the realm into thinking your children are trueborn when you have never publically"

So you're saying......they have to be first declared bastards...so they were true born before? You're basically agreeing they are, for all intents and purposes, true born just you want them to have the mark of bastardy? Because if kid is a bastard then he would be born without the father's name? And how is it treason when king agrees they're legitimate?

Which is exactly what velaryon boys aren't? They are born inside a marraige and the father doesn't reject them, and the king accepts them as his children? So they are fulfilling your dumb rules too? What exactly is the issue here?

And also before this the argument even contained "bastard shouldn't be looked down on" when the term bastard is created specifically to look down on those children? Why they have a label? This is the dimmest set of people i have ever encountered

[sitp-recs]

hi! thanks for your blog. do you have any recs for realistic mental health fics? thanks!

Hi anon! I can share some fics that resonated with me but please keep in mind that I’m no expert on the topic and cannot attest nor validate these portrayals in a professional capacity. I hope they work for you!

Touched by @writcraft (T, 7k)

On the insistence of his parents, Draco begins to see a therapist to discuss his difficulties with physical intimacy. When he changes his appointment time, Draco discovers he’s not the only one seeking assistance as a result of events which occurred during the war and he finds comfort in the most unexpected of places.

The Body Keeps Score by amorsindolor (E, 13k)

Draco cries during sex. A story about touch, intimacy, and the healing we find through mutual trust and love.

Edificabo by @doubleappled (E, 18k)

Numb and exhausted after the war, Harry returns to the only real home he’s ever known. Hogwarts needs help, too.

All That Remains by lordhellebore (M, 21k)

In a Great Britain destroyed by war and plagued by magical epidemics, those who are left behind struggle to survive and find meaning. While Draco battles his guilt by becoming a social worker, Harry is headed down a path of self-destruction.

Come Hell or High Water, anon (M, 22k)

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Draco’s world gains a new component just when he thought he’d sorted everything out.

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Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs.

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Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life.

A Piercing Comfort by talithan (T, 44k)

When Harry Potter hits the lowest point of his life so far, it is not his friends who keep him honest. With Draco Malfoy's patience and guidance, Harry learns to stand on his own. The thing is, after the fact—he's no longer sure he wants to.

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It’s been four months since Harry lost his memory. Four months of dead ends and no answers. With time running out until his memories are gone for good, Harry agrees to a course of Legilimency therapy with a renowned specialist: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy.

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Harry thinks "Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?" is a much simpler question than, "Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don't, what will you do?"

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Draco Malfoy hasn’t set foot on English soil in ten years. After the war, he fled to America, where he found himself in a community, and healed himself through following his heart into music. He’s now the lead singer and songwriter for an internationally known band, who have come back to headline the Wiltshire Music Festival.

Meet Me at Midnight by @the-starryknight (T, 57k)

Harry was beginning to wonder if he’d ever make anything again when Malfoy stormed through the door of Harry’s furniture shop. Now Harry’s got an impossible Ministry commission to finish, and even less energy than ever to deal with his elusive muse.

The Way Down by lettered (T, 65k)

Harry is overwhelmed by his own power and fame and angst, so he's become a hermit. Draco Malfoy is tired of the melodrama.

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Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

[wakacreations]

Letters From Rolan (Anthology)

Your Ally :) Letter Unproperly Sent.

Word Count: 887

Summary:

After Lorroakan's demise, Rolan reflects on his new position as the Master of Ramazith's Tower.

[A letter written in cursive script.]

Dear Tav,

You know you terrify me tremendously. That is no understatement. I have validity to that fear. Who can stand against the great saviour of Baldur’s Gate? Someone except I, of course. Oh, who am I kidding this letter won't be sent anyways. Most of these letters will never go to them…

At night I am stuck wondering if there was something more when you came to my rescue, my family’s rescue. If I was any other tiefling or stranger you had come across, you would probably rush in to save them. I am left thinking truly I cannot help these thoughts wandering into my subconscious as of late. I sit in this tower. I now can call mine but could I do so in good consciousness? My “master”, well.. “former master”, what am I even saying that BASTARD. How could I not have chosen to stand my ground against him sooner! Why did your actions have to sway me to act? That is not a slight at you but a chastisement at myself. How can I run and be the “Master” of Ramazith’s Tower when the time came to prove myself. To stand up against him I felt hesitation.. fear even. How did I let myself get diluted into thinking it was the price to pay for being a master wizard's apprentice?

For a long time I thought that such a thing was necessary not just for my apprenticeship but just everyday life. For how much of my life, my existence had been a mix of luck and misfortune. Am I worthy to keep accepting these happenstances of luck, these “gifts” and these “talents”. I was casted aside at birth you know. I never told another soul, only my family knows that fact. If our mother didn't well their mother showed such hospitality, to commit to such a noble act I.. honestly don't know where I would be. There were some soldiers, Hellriders who took pity on me when I was only but a street urchin living in Elturel. Maybe I would join their ranks. I know such a statement seems like a jest. “Rolan?! Thee tiefling wizard who is prim and proper! Who wouldn't be caught dead smelling of the grove!?! That same Rolan???” I heard all types of heckling from those troglodytes to know that sounds outlandish. I was in my youth. What else could I say? My ambitions were always grand.

I try, you know. I try to be more than I am; some child beggar on the streets, a wretched Hellspawn, a refugee of a great historic tragedy, a victim of a bastard fraud who dares call themselves a “wizard”, and for me to be simply more than just a burden who was abandoned by birth. I don't blame her, my birth mother or my father or whomever left me at the orphanage in Baldur’s Gate. Well I find it hard sometimes to find a reason to love me too.

*tears stains appear on the parchment

Cal, Lia.. and my mother do carry my burden. I am forever grateful and owe them more than I am worth, more than I could ever repay. I have resigned myself to spending the rest of my existence to them. To provide, to protect, and to serve as their guardian in my mother's stead. I know they see me as their brother, sometimes their older brother when they get sentimental. Most of the time to settle their petty arguments. They are all I have known and happy to have only known. They are my family.

Honestly that is why I was so adamant to forgo any of your insistent meddling. I am surprised you still saved us when you did. Maybe you were more willing to save my siblings. I won't blame you if you were put off from saving I, time and time again. Even I would feel the displeasures of such a task. In the similar vein as to my family, I do owe you for my life and additionally more so for theirs. 

If time ever came and the likelihood would be astronomically improbable but I would rescue you, you know. Truly I would. If word was spread of you going amiss or in some unimaginable otherworldly danger you would find yourself in, I would seek you. Do anything within my power to save you from whatever peril that has befallen you. Not just because my debt would be paid to you. 

I… well. If nothing.. I am the Master of Ramazith's Tower of course. I will live up to and be the most powerful wizard in Baldur’s Gate. I have now acquired the resources necessary to acquire the title. After properly continuing my research and studies of course. There is plenty more I need to learn. There are many subjects of the weave I have yet to achieve mastery of.

If in any case you find yourself in need of help, anything at all the Master of Ramazith's Tower will answer you. I will surely and graciously assist you to the best of my abilities. It is only right for me to do so to the person who earned the title hero or do you prefer being called the great saviour of Baldur’s Gate?

-Rolan  (friend?)

The Master of Ramazith’s Tower

[velvetvexations]

TW for brief mention of abuse in the last paragraph (nothing detailed, just, a mention of stats) I'm dumping this here because I'm scared to have my name attached to it, but I quite firmly believe that you cannot actually be an ally to all trans people while also hating cis men. Obviously there is something to be said about how it harms trans women, but I don't fully understand the experience that comes with that, and I'll mostly be speaking about AFAB transmascs here because I'm AFAB transmasc. I'm also disabled and using my last spoons to understand and type this, so apologies.

I find that people take two routes as to how to approach trans men, when they hold hatred for cis men, in that they either divorce the idea of us from the idea of "man", or they decide that because of our manhood, we are both privileged, and they must hate us too.

When it comes to separating us from manhood, a lot of people will talk about "men" and "trans men" as separate categories, and you see it in things like "not you though, I didn't mean trans men", but you also see it in the way that people have completely different expectations of how trans men and cus men should interact with the world, particularly with women. I don't really have the energy to think about how to put it into words, so if anyone else can pick up what I'm putting down, feel free to add on, or I might come back and elaborate later. But I find that it completely alienates us from the concept of manhood.

I've also had similar from my own mother, who told me that it was hard to see me as a man, because I had such "feminine traits", like, being helpful. Kind. Thoughtful. Things like that, because she found it hard to reconcile the fact that I was apparently all of those things, while also being a man, which is apparently the bad gender. Because evil is stored in the gender, obviously. (/s)

The other way I mentioned is the way that transradfems most often take, in the idea that men always oppress women, and there is no situational factor to it, and therefore trans men are included in that, and are therefore privileged and so it is fine to hate us, because we're men, and therefore it is okay to hate us, and this will never cause us any harm. For example, being denied access to shelters for being men. For many transandrophobes, us complaining about this is us being whiny and privileged, or weaponizing our AGAB, whereas, to myself certainly, I can't speak for others, male victims are more common than most people dare to think, but there is a lack of shelters that provide for men, which is an even bigger problem for trans men, because we have extremely high rates of abuse, but nowhere to turn to without having to detransition.

I also maintain it'll always be a major threat to trans women as well. If you call yourself a trans ally but hate cis men, as far as I'm concerned you're one step away from turning on me because there's no basis on which you can logically claim cis men are categorically worse that doesn't also apply to trans women - like, is it because of how they're raised, how society teaches them to be? Because that sure sounds a lot like you're expressing a belief in male socialization! TERFs are wrong about trans women, but if you accept their worldview you can't take it halfway and expect it to make sense.