#first year teaching

[junotter]

Part 2 of my modern avatar au, The Gaang (part 1)

[bbyteach]

Uhhh sooooo NYC 80’s punk scene AU where ed used to play in bands when younger but not anymore & runs a popular venue and is totally burned out on the scene. Until a blonde weirdo wearing pastels started coming to shows there and he had to understand what is going on with this guy?? And the guy wants to learn more about this world and Ed confused but ends up having more fun than he has in ages??

[elleniemae]

Finally gave in. Watched the gay pirate show.

I freaking love it to DEATH holy SMOKES why didn’t you people tell me to watch this??? I binged it in like 2 DAYS???

Anyway, I wanted to draw the gays, but unfortunately I cannot draw middle-aged men for the life of me. I’ll figure it out one day.

HOWEVER I can draw children! So, I drew the children meeting, because they both need a hug. Really bad.

Enjoy!

[nenestansunsthings]

having svsss au ideas beyond my station

thinking. shang qinghua goes on a mission as a young disciple to some town in fuckoff nowhere and finds himself in the qiu household. and there he finds a young shen jiu, undergoing the plot he originally intended for him and hadn't realised had become real and he's so young oh god hes so young why is he so small what do you mean that part was real, he hadn't kept it why is it real—

and he panics and sneaks him the Fuck out of that house

and he's not sure what to do but surely sending him to cang qiong will fuck up something in the plot and he can't come under even more investigation and cang qiong tryouts dont happen for months anyway and his system would probably never allow it (it doesnt. it would interfere with yue qingyuans story) but shen jiu is refusing to stay anywhere near this place and wants to learn cultivating to protect himself make sure nothing like this ever happens again and sqh panics harder and

calls mobei jun.

okay. on second thought, maybe this was a bad idea. but he stumbles over himself and shushes baby shen jiu's very understandable freaking out and asks his king for the first thing hes ever asked for other than his own life.

is there any way this human child could learn cultivation in the demon world?

[spacedace]

Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.

Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.

(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)

-

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.

A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.

It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.

Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.

Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.

But they were still kids.

Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.

Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.

Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.

Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.

They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.

Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.

Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.

They all knew why.

The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.

That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.

Robin II was an Alley Kid.

A true child of Gotham.

Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.

Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.

He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

Bad things happened to good kids all the time.

And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.

Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.

The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.

Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.

Or so the rumors said, at least.

That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.

Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.

And then the news came in.

There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.

Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.

Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.

Alone.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.

The Joker wasn’t most folks.

And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.

Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.

And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.

Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.

But the Bat would find him.

They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.

It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

The Clown still lived.

The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.

No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.

That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.

They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.

And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.

Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.

Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.

Not Robin II either.

Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.

No.

It was a new Robin.

A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.

Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.

The Clown had killed Robin II.

Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.

Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.

The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.

But he never did.

Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.

Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.

And then the Bat stepped in.

Revived the fucking Clown.

A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.

He was a good kid.

He deserved better.

Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.

Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.

It was their turn.

[lastoneout]

"[New Farming Sim] is copying Stardew Valley!!" Harvest Moon came out for the Nintendo 64 in 1999

Edit: My apologies, Harvest Moon came out for the SNES in 1996

[whiskingskin]

No because yall... Izzy spent most of his life at sea. Hating, loving, learning, yearning. Repressing and expressing, losing himself and finding himself, accepting that his existence can be good, he can be good, and safe, at the same time. He was always the first to throw himself into needlessly dangerous situations- the ships protector. The ships unicorn. Living his life physically and emotionally getting tossed around by life changing waves and tides.

And they buried him on fucking land

[galacticfo-ol]

happy (belated) 1 year anniversary to our flag means death season 2 💖🏴‍☠️ here are some s2 doodles that have not seen the light outside of my cobweb-infested procreate app for some reason

[you-makestedehappy]

Dear Ed, I couldn't quite manage to find a tiger, but I'd like to think it's close enough.

[cuntylestat]

i admire anyone who works a 9-5 because i'm at work for more than 5 hours and i end up like this

[al-luviec]

juvie buddies

[tumblasha]

headcanon that hero schools and agencies are in charge of making hero merch. so there's some deku merch out there up until midoriya graduates. then there's merch of him again after eight years when he becomes a fighting pro-hero once more.

high school bakugou bought a plushie here and there while he was still in UA. but pro-hero dynamight?? #1 deku fan??? once he has to stop financially contributing to the mechasuit, he actually starts collecting every piece of his merch. his new collection's price doesn't even come close to deku's hero suit's monthly contributions. his collector fanboy nerd self is very pleased <3

[rintoorou]

having the miya twins as your brothers would mean them betting over who’d cry on your wedding first

[fantisyoflove]

Snape's First Year Teaching[part 1]

*not my picture, I found it on pintrest*

Warning ⚠️ mentions of death. ⚠️

Chapter word count: 2392

Total work word count: 24,244

Enjoy 🥰

In Dumbledore's office you stand, hands behind your back, as you watch him pace.

"I have no doubt professor Snape is loyal to me, I just think that having you will persuade him a little more if need be."

"You want me to become friends with him?" You ask a little confused. Dumbledore had requested you spy for him, given your pure blood status and familial ties to other death eaters, but this seemed weird.

"Well, quite honestly Miss Burke, if you could be more than friends that might help" Dumbledore spoke as if they were discussing flavors of chocolate, not going under cover as a spy and trying to sleep with someone to help you gain access to more intell and secrets!

"Sir, I don't think I could..."

"Oh don't worry too much, If all goes well the person you pretend to be will be long gone after we win this war. That is still your intent isn't it? Saving countless lives?"

Damn, he really knew how to push you!

"Yes, sir." You said with a sigh.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together, "Excellent! Then you are hired! I am sure you will be an excellent addition to our staff" the smile he gave seemed sweet and genuine but with the shadows from the candle light it made him look sinister.

*that night in the great hall, preparing for the sorting ceremony*

Professor Snape was sitting at the end of the very long table up front for staff, his head bent as he read a book under the table. Head resting in one hand, hair falling into his face despite his attempts to tie it back. You took a deep breath, 'atleast he's not ugly' you thought as you walked towards him. The seat next to him was vacant, in fact the next 3 seats beside him were. Nobody was looking in his direction and he seemed perfectly content reading alone.

Walking up to him you tapped on his shoulder and cleared your throat. Snape jumped and dropped his book on the floor. Turning to glare at you, he pushed the hair out of his face.

"Can I help you?" He hissed. You watched his hand pull his wand out of his inside cloak pocket, give it a little flourish and mutter under his breath. His book flew back onto his lap and you saw the same page as before.

"Oh, I umm... I am. I'm sorry. I was just going to ask if I could sit by you?"

His expression softened but he looked around the room suspiciously. You looked too, confused what he was searching for, maybe his friends that usually sat with him....

"Is this some kind of prank?" He whispered through gritted teeth.

"Prank? What? No! I just... I am ... I am just new here and thought maybe ...."

Snape put his hand up, "stop. I don't know who put you up to this but I am in no mood. Please leave me be. I sure there are plenty of other people you could sit next to."

Your face fell, "oh, um okay. I'm sorry. Again. Sorry" you stumble over your words and wring your hands together. Turning away you go to sit somewhere else. Unfortunately all the seats were now taken and the students were filling in the great hall doors.

Snape looked down the table and rolled his eyes "typical".

You took the chair immediately to his left and sat down. Dumbledore began his announcements, the usual stuff and then "... and also join me in welcoming our new potions professor. Professor Snape!" He paused for applause and there was a polite amount but Snape looked indifferent as he stood and took a small bow to the students before sitting back down. "As well as our new herbology Professor, Professor Burke." Another pause for applause. You stood and copied the bow Snape did but as you went to sit back down you bumped your chair and almost fell but Snape caught your arm. He pushed your chair back into place and then let go as you sat back down. He clasped both hands between his knees and stared at his empty plate. You lean towards him and whisper "thank you!" He relaxes his position a little but still doesn't look at you. 'What an odd man' you think.

"I'm sure you will make them both feel welcome! Now let the feast begin!" Dumbledore finishes and the house elf magic fills the room, the tables piled with food and drink.

You glance at professor Snape, he has taken a small piece of chicken, a scoop of peas, and a slice of buttered bread. You notice there isn't any pitcher's to get a drink for himself so you pass the water jug and the decanter of wine. He didn't turn his head but a shaky hand reached for the wine and poured himself a good size glass. You held out your hand for it once he was done and he passed it to you.

"Thank you, again" you said sweetly and smiled at him.

He nodded once but still wouldn't look at you. He took a few bites of his food, chugged his wine, muttered "excuse me", and then clumsily grabbed his book and a bag from under the table and ran to the door behind the teachers table.

You had barley raised your first fork full to your mouth by the time the door clicked shut.

Professor McGonagall leaned closer to you and whispered. "Don't mind Severus, my dear. He had a rough time during his school years making friends. I do think, though, like any wounded bird, it's best to approach them slowly." She gave you a wink and then turned back to her plate.

You nodded, "Thank you professor."

*A week of classes, getting used to things, setting up your office and creating lesson plans on the fly left you exhausted. You sat next to Snape at every meal he also attended and smiled and said hello to him in the halls and by Friday you were getting a nod back afterwards! Now Saturday morning you were sitting at breakfast enjoying your tea. You had to classes and nothing to do today. Most professors grabbed food to go and went about their day but you decided to sit in the dinning hall*

"Hello."

You turn to see Snape standing there awkwardly. A book tucked under his arm and his bag hanging loose on his shoulder.

"Hello professor! " you scoot your plate over and move the book you had open on the table. "Please," you gesture to his usual chair and see a small smile in the corner of his lips.

You remember McGonagall's advice and wait quietly as he settles in and starts eating. You figured if he doesn't say anything before he finishes eating then you will ask him how his first week went. You pretend to be engrossed in your book, taking bites or sips every other page.

Snapes eyes keep darting from you, to his plate, to the book left unopened beside him. His once steady hand shaking enough that his eggs plop back onto the plate. He sets his fork down with a little too much force causing you to jump.

"Everything alright?" You ask trying to catch his eye.

He nods and looks away from you, towards the door near the table. 'Hes going to bolt' you think 'it's now or never'. You open your mouth to speak but before you do he turns back to you suddenly and says a little louder than necessary, "howhasyourweekbeen?"

"I'm sorry? What did you..." he cut you off

"No, um how, ha..oow" his voice is quivering. You notice how young he truly is. Like you, probably only 20, 21 years old. How had he gotten mixed up with death eaters enough that they trusted him AND Dumbledore was using him to spy? He was so young, he deserved to live a life free of this war. And that's what you would keep telling yourself if this worked. People like him, all the children in this castle right now, and countless others will be saved if you can take down he who must not be named.

"How was your first week" he sputtered out. His neck was bright red and the red was quickly creeping up to his cheeks. He was sitting on his hands and having a hard time meeting your eyes for too long.

You smiled softly to him, "it was good. My students were very understanding with my last minute lesson plans." You closed the book you were reading and turned a little to face him

"Why were your lesson plans last minute?" He wrinkled his nose a bit, seemingly disgusted by your lack of planning.

"Oh, ermm, well Dumbledore called upon me last minute to work here. Before I was traveling and doing research and such. I guess they had an opening they hadn't filled yet, and well here I am" you finished with a shrug.

Snape gave you a quizzical look but then made his face blank again.

"So, how was your first week?"

He turned back to his breakfast but paused to mumble, "fine".

"That's good! I love potions they are a little hobby of mine. If I hadnt gone into Herbology I would have mastered potions" he seemed to brighten up at this and turn back to you.

"Really?"

"Well yea! I feel like we will probably be working together a lot given I grow a lot of the ingredients you need and you make the repellents. So I'm told."

"True, is that... is that why you're being so nice to me?" This was the first time he made direct eye contact with you and held your gaze. You smiled, "well kinda. But also because I figured we are both new professors and it might help if we stuck together. My parents moved around a lot when I was young so I changed schools a lot... I never really felt like I had any real friends"

A look came over his face that you couldn't quite read but it made you feel like you should hold him. Maybe one day. But for now you just held his gaze .

"You ever feel like that?"

He dropped his fork on the ground and in the attempt to retrieve it he knocked over his cup of juice onto his book and your lap. A slew of curses flew out of his mouth as he tried to right everything. Grabbing napkins and dropping back down to the ground. You grabbed your wand and tapped the cup 3 times before whispering the enchantment to make every drop of liquid return to the cup. You got up and moved the chair out of the way and held both your hands out to help him up. He looked close to tears but grabbed both your hands and stood. He glared at the floor and started grabbing his stuff growling "stupid, stupid, stupid" as he stormed out of the great hall.

You pushed in both your chairs and noticed a few eyes still staring your way. You gave a sarcastic wave and suddenly those eye were VERY interested in the plates on the table.

You grabbed your things and followed after Snape. Using a more complex spell you followed his foot prints calmly and quietly. They led to his office and then down to the further corridors that led outside. Soon you found yourself along the edge of the black lake and Snape was up ahead. He sat under the shade of a large oak tree, just barely visible by his hair blowing in the wind. You heard a small sniffle and soft crying. You put your wand away and came up along the shore line trying not to startle him.

"Pro.. professor Snape?" You called out. The sobbing stopped and you watched him jump to his feet and go further behind the tree.

"Go Away!" He hissed

"Severus? Severus, please. I promise you I just wanted to make sure you're alright."

"I said go away! Or are deaf and stupid!" He snapped.

You gritted your teeth. Biting back SEVERAL things you would like to say to him and taking in a breath.

"Look," you circled around the tree trying to look at him but he mirrored your steps so he was always hidden. "I don't know what your life has been like but you can trust me"

You heard him scoff, "you! Trust you? I don't even know you! For all I know your just some silly little girl sent by someone to make a fool out of me!"

Your breath hitched because he wasn't far off.

"I don't want to make a fool out of you! And I'm hear because I care Severus. Please come out. I promise nothing bad or mean will happen to you. Please just let me apologize to your face. I didn't mean to spill that," he stepped out from behind the tree.

"Apologize? Apologize for what!?" He snarled. His eyes were puffy and red and his nose was leaking a bit. You held out your handkerchief. He snatched it away from you and turned to wipe his eyes and blow his nose.

"For spilling that juice and for scaring you away"

"But you didn't do that," he whispered. "I did, I'm a blithering idiot who just wanted to talk to you and and then then I and I" he started hiccupping and crying again. You reached forward and touched his shoulder only for him to jerk away.

"Severus..." you start but he whips around and screams, "I said go away! You stupid little girl!" he is inches from your face. You don't back down even though your body flinches away. You stand on your tiptoes to look him in the face.

"FINE!" You growl back. You step closer to him and he takes a half step backwards. "You know I thought you would be different! But you're just like everyone else. A bully!" You spin on your heel and stomp away.

Behind you Snape'a face falls and his shoulders slump. "I'm sorry" he says under his breath to himself. He knows you can't here he from this distance. The tears fall freely now and he clutches your handkerchief to his chest, slumped against the tree, he melts down to the ground and lays there in the shade of the tree.

Also avaliable on my ao3 😻

[thwispsings]

the idea came to me in a migraine induced dream but now im obsessed with the concept of a mu qingfang who knew the abuse bunhe was going through at the hands of og!shen qingqiu/shen jiu and did his best to treat the kid whenever he could (and bring his concerns to zhangmen shixiong, which were obviously very much ignored) and his constant worry over the situation means that when the qi deviation happens he is suspicious of shen qingqiu’s changes for all different reasons and very much protective of luo binghe -who is a sweet child and an earnest disciple who seems to always find the most incredible medicinal herbs to bring to his mu shishu as thanks for the care bestowed upon him- which means that when the whole shen qingqiu dying thing happens instead of bad mouthing luo binghe or fighting him at every chance he does his best to come over and keep an eye on things to try and help him and make sure luo binghe won’t kill himself trying to bring shen qingqiu back because he remembers that earnest kid and he’s witnessed luo binghe’s devotion to this shen qingqiu first hand and knows there is no way that the kid who cried when ning yingying found a bird with a broken wing and begged mu qingfang to fix it and the kid that would always borrow medical texts and try to find new herb combinations as if it was a game between him and qian cao disciples is actually doing anything nefarious to shen qingqiu’s corpse.

anyways in this essay i will-

[jsbashirmd]

(from left to right) Soren, Julian, Selek, and Emkari Garak.