#span bolster

[eltristan]

With 8-axles, 4-trucks, and double span-bolsters these are former-DRGW tunnel motors locally rebuilt as Brazilian meter gauge beasts they call General Motors BB40T-2

(1 is a rebuilt Athearn HO scale model)

Fascinated by these span-bolster trucks...

[ambrosiaaddiction]

The Princess and The Tool

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ repair man!Simon Riley x curvy!Y/N

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: None other than Simon’s just a man, and his thoughts start to wander.

₊˚ପ⊹ Part 1

₊˚ପ⊹ Word count: 2.5k

₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: Y/N and her best friend have finished unpacking in their new apartment. However, in the span of two months, more and more problems have occurred. Simon Riley is one of the several repair men in the area, and he’s sent over as a last resort to provide the solutions.

➽──────────────❥

Y/N was the most independent woman known to her family and friends. She was headstrong, had an incredible work ethic, and always looked after those who were close to her. As the youngest of two children, she took it upon herself to learn valuable life skills rather than wait until she was older. While her childhood wasn’t like what she had seen in movies and tv shows, Y/N never lost hope.

Y/N and her best friend, Luna, have known each other since freshman year of high school, and their friendship was nearing a decade. They were now in their early twenties, and they decided to proceed with their plan of moving together into their first apartment.

Although, Y/N had noticed a couple of things that seemed kind of worrying. She soon realized that the previous owner hadn’t taken great care of it when they lived there. A singular step on the staircase wasn’t properly bolstered, which led to the poor woman getting her foot stuck in the hole. She fell forward with a loud bang, and silence fell upon her roommate and herself.

“Are you still alive?” Luna joked as she stared at her best friend’s fallen body at the top of the staircase. Luckily, Y/N wasn’t injured judging by the laugh of disbelief that fell from her lips.

The worst of them was when the breaker shut off and neither of them were home. Y/N urged Luna to send a work order to the people in charge of repairs. The following week, the first man to check the breaker was no help whatsoever. He stared at the breaker for five minutes, shrugged at Luna, and left.

So Y/N sent a message herself, which was taken more seriously than her roommate’s. Little did she know who would be the one to come to the rescue.

➽──────────────❥

Y/N and Luna were planning on how to spend their afternoon together. Unbeknownst to either of them, there was a man parked outside of the apartment and sitting on a golf cart. Luna had her back turned to him, phone nestled between her cheek and shoulder as she locked the door. She almost walked past him until he called out to her, which pulled her attention to him. She put her phone against her chest, startled and embarrassed that she actually didn’t see him.

“I’m so sorry! I had no idea you were waiting here!” Luna’s face was reddened with a deep blush as she apologized profusely. The man chuckled in response, not really offended by her reaction. It sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. “S’alright. I tried callin’ ya, but I’m glad I caught ya before ya left.” He had a thick English accent, and his voice only caused her blush to worsen.

He rose to his feet, easily towering over her, the lower half of his face adorned with a scar running across his lips and chin. Like the other maintenance men that arrived at their apartment before him, he wore the standard uniform. Khaki shorts that hugged his muscular thighs, a standard cobalt blue uniform t-shirt that stretched tightly around his broad chest, and he had short cropped blonde hair. On his left arm, he had a full sleeve of black and white tattoos.

A few seconds later, Y/N drove up to the empty parking spot and turned off the car engine. Her eyes widened at the welcome sight of the repair man standing in front of her roommate. She got out of her car, making sure to lock the doors more than once as she made her way over. “Hello! We didn’t know what time you would be here, so we figured we would go for a little shopping trip.” Y/N explained as she waved to him with a warm smile.

In the back of his mind, Simon thought that he was lucky to be around two beautiful women. But that wasn’t the reason why he was outside of their shared apartment this morning. “Oh? Well, name’s Simon Riley, and I hope tha’ I can help you ladies with any issues.” He introduced himself, and gently shook Y/N’s much smaller hand. “I’m Y/N, and she’s Luna. She’s my best friend/roommate.” She replied in kindness, and her roommate smiled up towards Simon.

He shook Luna’s hand as well, the soft crow’s feet by his eyes crinkling with a wide smile of his own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” With introductions were out of the way, Simon followed the two of them inside the apartment. He also noticed their similar styles. Y/N wore black spandex that stopped mid-thigh with a baggy t-shirt, and black Nike slides. Luna, on the other hand, wore ripped denim shorts, a black video game t-shirt, and black combat boots.

“My roommate told me that when she came home, everything was turned off.” Y/N began to explain as she stood against the wall adjacent to the circuit breaker. “We have no idea why or how the breaker tripped when neither of us were home.” Luna added with a shrug and watched Simon turn on his flashlight.

He nodded in acknowledgement of their concerns then rolled his eyes at the mention of his co-worker not being any help whatsoever. He wasn’t surprised, but he was glad that he had the opportunity to prove he was more experienced. “So it turns out that there’s a loose screw. Chances are that it was caused by the storm we had recently.” Simon concluded as he switched off his flashlight and sighed.

Y/N and Luna looked at each other, the both of them silently communicating before laughing. “That’s it? Just a loose screw?” Luna asked mid giggle, and Y/N laughed a bit harder. “And here we thought that we were going crazy.” Luna shook her head before sighing softly. Y/N soon calmed down then noticed how Simon’s gaze lingered on her. She cleared her throat, straightening her posture and tilting her head slightly to the side with a smile.

Simon quickly tore his eyes away, cursing at himself for getting distracted by a gorgeous woman who was clearly younger than him. “Was there anything else that you needed help with?” He asked Luna, who nodded and was aware of how he stared at Y/N. “Yeah, the paint is peeling off in her bathroom, and there’s like, mold in the corner of my bathtub.” She replied, glancing at her best friend for confirmation.

“Also, one of the stairs at the top has the carpet lifting.” Y/N added, which caused Simon to furrow his brows. The more he learned about the negligence of his co-workers, the more disappointed he became. “She got her foot caught in the hole and fell on her face.” Luna piped up, and Simon’s eyes widened. “What? You fell?” His scarred lips morphed into a sneer, but it wasn’t directed towards either of the women.

How dare the other repair men be so careless? They should’ve done a routine check before approving that everything was safe. Especially with two sweet women who just moved into their very first apartment. Simon’s intense glare could’ve burned a hole in the floor.

“I’ll show you where exactly the paint is peeling.” Y/N walked past Simon, and he caught a whiff of her perfume. It suited her perfectly; there were notes of vanilla, sandalwood, and peony. Soft, feminine, and certainly alluring as he followed after her up the stairs. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at her hands that were covering her ass out of courtesy. A part of him wished he was able to see it jiggle with every step she took.

Y/N claimed the master bedroom for herself. It was spacious; the king size bed was against the furthest wall from the door, a singular window with grayish-blue and sheer curtains was on the right side of the bed, the tv was mounted on the opposite side, and there was a shelf that served as a temporary night stand. A very simple setup for Y/N until she bought more furniture.

She turned on the light in the bathroom, and Simon was right behind her. Y/N had chosen to go with a black and white aesthetic. The shower curtain had a deep green leaf print, and there was also a toilet overhead shelf. Facing the toilet were matching black fluffy towels, and two checkerboard print hand towels side-by-side. It almost a tight fit with his bigger stature taking up most of the space.

“I didn’t really think of it as a big deal at first,” Y/N pointed at the top of the tile wall next to the shower head. “But I did want to have it redone before it could peel even more.” Her lips formed a soft pout, and Simon had to fight the urge to stare at them.

He had to stand behind Y/N, and the smell of her perfume filled his nostrils again. “I see. I’ll have it lookin’ brand new, I promise.” His voice rumbled in his chest as he leaned closer to assess where the paint was coming off.

But it was impossible to stop his mind from wandering. Simon pictured her covered in bubbles as she bathed. Her skin glistened from the warm water, aromatics wafted in the air, and her sultry gaze met the hunger brewing behind his eyes. Her hand slid down her soapy tits and disappeared underneath the water. Her plump lips parted to moan out his name as her back arched in pleasure.

What pulled him out of his naughty fantasy was when Y/N lost her footing leaning too far over the tub. She yelped in surprise, and his fast reflexes caught her before she fell. They stayed like that, his thick strong arms wrapped firmly around her waist to keep her upright. Y/N’s heart was pounding in her ears, and she had to ignore where his fingers were gently pressing into her skin through her t-shirt.

“Careful, love,” he whispered in her ear. “Wouldn’t want you hurting tha’ pretty head o’ yours.” Y/N would’ve melted right then and there if it weren’t for Simon supporting her weight. It was both amazing and flattering that he wasn’t struggling to hold her up.

“Thank you, Simon.” She whispered back, her voice slightly trembling as he carefully helped her stand on her feet again. “You’re welcome, princess.” He chuckled at the sight of her adorable blush. Y/N wasn’t sure how to recover mentally and emotionally from what just happened.

Luna eventually came upstairs to check on them, and with one look on Y/N’s face, she immediately put the pieces together. “So… will you be able to start painting the wall today?” Luna spoke up after a few moments of awkward silence passed. Simon’s mind was reeling as he turned to the other woman, and his hands were itching to feel Y/N again. “I’d have to come back on another since I don’t have the right tools with me. But let me take a look at your tub.”

They then left Y/N’s room, went down the stairs, and made their way to Luna’s bathroom. Compared to the Y/N’s bathroom, hers was an all blue aesthetic. Beside the tub was a soft navy blue bath mat. Luna’s shower curtain had a continuous pattern of navy blue teardrops in the form of circles. She pulled the shower curtain to the right, revealing her personal hygiene care and the corner with mold buildup.

“I noticed it a couple of days ago, but I couldn’t clean it off.” Luna gestured to the left corner of the bathtub next to the faucet. Simon’s eyes followed the direction of where she was pointing, and he understood why she felt somewhat frustrated. “Not even the scrub daddy could remove whatever that is.”

“It shouldn’t take me too long to caulk and re-paint that corner.” Simon reassured her, his hand pulling out his phone from his pocket to take a picture the mold. “I’ll care take of this on my next availability before moving up so I can re-paint your wall, too.” He said to Y/N after standing up to his full height. It was almost comical how he looked so out of place in Luna’s bathroom. Almost. If he wanted, he could have Y/N pinned against the wall and keep her there until he was done with her.

Simon waited for the roommates to leave the bathroom first, making sure to turn the light off as he walked away. “Alright,” he began once they gathered in the kitchen. “Just to be clear—replace the breaker, paint the bathroom wall, re-caulk the bathtub corner, and fix the stair. Does that sound right to you ladies?” Y/N and Luna nodded at the same time, pleased to hear that Simon remembered what needed to be taken care of.

“Yup! I don’t think there’s anything else.” Y/N beamed at Simon, and he swore he felt his chest tighten. She was beautiful, had a wonderful personality, and now she would plague his thoughts from now on. “Good, good. I’ll start on the breaker, so I won’t keep you waiting too long.” He turned around to leave, closing the front door behind him.

Luna waited until his footsteps receded and that he was out of earshot. “Girl, we got a man who knows what he’s doing. And he’s attractive!” Luna softly gushed to Y/N, and they both giggled. “His tattoos and arms, though? I’d let him put me in a chokehold any day.” Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile at her best friend’s comments. She recalled the moment when he had her in his tight embrace. Simon truly was a good-looking man despite his height and scars.

Half an hour later, Simon returned and finished replacing the breaker with an entirely new one. He took a step back to ensure that it wasn’t loose on any side, and nodded in satisfaction. “Yeah, tha’ should do it.” He hummed, pleased with himself for completing the task. Y/N and Luna were also pleased that he knew what he was doing—unlike his co-workers. “Like I mentioned earlier,” Simon spoke as he shut the breaker door, “I’ll come back to re-caulk and re-paint in both of your bathrooms.”

“Would it be possible for you to come in the morning? I’ll be available, but Y/N has work at night.” Luna questioned him as they all hovered near the now open front door. The women could tell that his visit was ending soon, and they were grateful for his help. “I can be here at ten o’clock sharp.” Simon readily agreed to her request, but a part of him was disappointed that he’d miss out on seeing Y/N again. “I’ll also give you a call to let you know that I’m on my way.”

“Perfect! Thank you for your help, and I hope you have a great afternoon!” Y/N waved goodbye, her (e/c) eyes shining in the sunlight. Her smile must be protected at all costs, kept away from the evil of the world. Simon returned the gesture before he winked at her. “No problem, love. Likewise.” And with that, he got into his golf cart then drove away.

Y/N and Luna stood in the doorway, completely shell-shocked by what unfolded. “What just happened?” Y/N whispered to her best friend, who honestly didn’t have an answer. “I’m pretty sure he finds you attractive.” Luna replied before shutting the front door and locking it. “Oh, my god, he finds you attractive!” She squealed with excitement, gently shaking Y/N’s arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you everything that happens tomorrow when you’re at work.” Luna promised her because that’s what good best friends do.

When Y/N gathered her once scrambled thoughts, she grabbed her purse from the kitchen island. “We’re going shopping, and you’re driving.” Luna let out a dramatic groan, but didn’t complain about being the designated driver. “Okay, let’s go.” She put her bag over her shoulder, took out her keys, and the two best friends left to do some retail therapy.

[ashtarels-archives]

The Mysteries of Elunite Ore

- Headcanon Speculations -

Elunite Ore, a rare mineral considered blessed by Elune Herself, is one often sought after; and yet shrouded in mystery. As many priests, priestesses, templars, and other devotees of the Goddess may strive to incorporate Elunite into their armaments and regalia, the quest for obtaining and fashioning this material is one that has spanned many lands and generations. This is a compendium on the nature of Elunite from various geologists, theorists, and researchers across Azeroth.

Earthly Origins

The origin of Elunite’s terrestrial formation is not entirely understood by Sisterhood scholars, nor by lithic experts of the world. One of the oldest proposed ideas is rooted in the ancient legend of Elune and the Well of Eternity: that she once dwelled in its depths during the day, and rose into the sky as the moon each night. Due to her strong former connection to this font of arcane power, it is surmised that Elunite may actually be crystallized remnants of the great well; whose leyline rivers once nourished the planet. One theorist believes that because all modern moonwells contain traces of the Well of Eternity, and are damaging to demons and scourgeblight, this could explain the similar holy properties of Elunite. However, others claim that it finds its beginnings as a simple, mundane ore embedded within the earth, which is eventually augmented with Elune’s blessings once it is exposed to the surface and directly shone upon by moonlight. More mythical sentiments say that any ore can become Elunite if the goddess wills it, and that finding it is an extremely rare and divine auspice. It is believed that processed Elunite is a multi-faceted metal whose properties can change depending on imbuement from various moon phases and other major lunar events, such as eclipses. While some think it is ever-shifting, varied accounts of miners and blacksmiths with the remarkable ability to shape Elunite describe that its qualities are determined by the state of the moon on the exact night that the ore is extracted from the earth. Either way, this is a succinct list of their observations:

Full Moon Properties: Bolsters the wearer/wielder’s healing capabilities, and is often inlaid into staves and suturing needles. Full Moon Elunite is also highly damaging to demons and the undead; therefore anyone on a demonic or undead purgation mission may seek out a weapon of this influence to aid in expunging corruption. 

Waxing Moon Properties: Becomes a material which houses additional mana, that can then be tapped into for a small increase in magical reserves until recharged beneath the next waxing moon. Those who carry moonwater or the liquid fire of Elune may opt for this particular metal to house these sacred substances.

Quarter Moon Properties: Contains a natural abjurative energy which is typically used in the creation of Elunite shields, talismans, librams, wards, and armor for those who exercise a more defensive combat style, or wish to protect themselves magically against unholy forces.

Waning Moon Properties: Often the choice for Elunite accessories and other ephemera, which are usually crafted with the eventual intent of Elunarian sacrifice. When an item of waning moon Elunite is offered up, its physical form is completely consumed in exchange for a singular blessing, protection, or spell. Lunar liturgical glyphs or words of power are typically engraved on these accessories with particular spellwork in mind, although a priest/priestess may sacrifice a blank slate piece and incant one spell of choice with a greater potency.

New Moon Properties: It is said that New Moon Elunite is magically similar to the blessing of shadowmeld, allowing for easier camouflage into surrounding environments and quieter movements. Those who wish to make use of the protection offered by chainlinks or armor plates, while still retaining obscurity, may seek to have their regalia crafted with this semi-noise-dampening material. This offshoot of Elunite is additionally often sought after for the creation of arrowheads, shurikens, and other projectiles; as its magick may be utilized for brief invisibility before it dissipates and its physical counterparts reappear.

Solar Eclipse: Solar-eclipsed Elunite is often chosen in the creation of rings (such as archery thumb-rings) that are usually beset with moonstones and other blessed gems, whose imbuements can strengthen one's physical or magickal attacks.

Lunar Eclipse: Lunar-eclipsed Elunite is typically the choice material for divination tools: such as pendulums, scrying mirrors, and spirit-speaking quills. Some also craft ritual daggers with this material for the purpose of collecting flesh to be offered in Elunarian flame sacrifices.

Artisanal Knowledge

Another unknown characteristic of Elunite is how an artisan attains the ability to gather and shape the ore. It seems that precious few across Azeroth have this exceptional privilege, the two most prominent having once resided in the boughs of Darnassus. Elanaria and Mathiel have not been seen since the Burning of Teldrassil, but much can be gleaned from the stories of those who once worked with them. Many miners and blacksmiths are incapable of grasping the techniques surrounding Elunite, which poses some intriguing theories. The simplest is that the secrets of this ore are strongly protected, and seldom taught to others. Another that some have posited, is that the way to gain the privilege of crafting with this mineral requires proving oneself by performing an act of protection or preservation in defense of the goddess’s domain. She then assumedly rewards this deed with the artisanal knowledge of Elunite, or it then becomes malleable to that specific person. Elanaria supposedly tasked her trade partners and trainees with sacred missions such as slaying satyrs actively corrupting moonwells, and ending the suffering of oathbound shades. The late, self-cursed Captain Elura was said to wear a precious medallion, though we do not know if it was of Elunite make. Some theorize it was simply requested as a physical token of proof for the task; while others believe it was Elunite indeed, which is why Elanaria wanted it retrieved. If the medallion was shaped of this hallowed ore, the fact that Elura still wore it even in death may speak to its deep reverence, a spiritual binding property, or a partial immateriality.

Because of its sanctity, and the profound cultural respect for it among Kaldorei, crafting with Elunite may be more common among the Sisterhood of Elune; but still heavily guarded from the rest of the world. It could be that there is a sect of the Sisterhood devoted to sacred artisanry such as this; or, the Sisterhood may commission lay craftsmen who possess the means to Elunite. This material is also said to be utilized in profession tools such as sewing needles for mooncloth tailoring, quill nibs for lunar inscription, and rune rods for Elunarian enchanting. Hippogryph riders of the Sentinel Army, as well as individual riders, may commission blessed Elunite hoofshoes for fortified hind leg attacks, periods of extended wear on the back legs, when the creatures grow old, or are unable to fly; as some claim that they ease pain. Additionally, some equip saber, owl, and chimera companions with Elunite armor, claw/talon caps, and adornments just as they would wear regalia themselves.

In regards to metalworking with Elunite, some theorize that cold working (shaping metal at or below room temperature) may be the superior method as opposed to the extreme heats used with common minerals. Byproducts of Elunite smithing, such as the coal that is left behind from this process, may be used within braziers. It is said that Elunite coals, and the flames that burn from them, are resistant to water quenching; and as such are often used in settlements or outposts with heavy rain and snowfall. The most prevalent theory as to how these fires continue to burn posits that the coals themselves must be open to the skies, as the flames are “kindled,” so to speak, by the energies of the moon each night. Members of the Sisterhood are said to carefully wrap and gift Elunite coals to patrons on various holidays for people to place within the hearths of their home as tokens of spiritual protection and good will. Communal events organized by the order additionally use Elunite coals in cooking fires as an added method of blessing food stores; which some claim temporarily defends against illness, strengthens the body, and fortifies the spirit.

As of today, it is unclear whether or not Elunite can be alloyed. It could be that those who are able to work with the ore simply refuse to do so for fear of dampening its sacred properties; or, its inherent magick may be rendered useless or significantly weaker when alloyed with other common metals. In matters of corrosion, Elunite proves particularly mysterious. It would stand to reason that the goddess’s ties to water might strengthen the ore against rusting and deteriorating over time; although, there have not been any ancient Elunite artifacts recovered as of yet, perhaps implying that the material cannot withstand the elemental ravages of the eons. One possible argument against this is that because the ore is tremendously sacred, there may be ways to reshape or reuse the material; and that is why no timelost Elunite relics have been recovered.

Lore and Legend

Ancient, yet unsupported stories, say that Luminarian was one of the first to uncover the mysteries of Elunite; his name supposedly a pseudonym of sorts to commemorate his luminary works, and the ability to shape this luminous ore. While Elunite was fabled to be the reason for his rise to prominence, many speculate that he eventually abandoned the craft in favor of arcane creations; hence his lasting fame as a magesmith, and as the creator of mythical weapons like Felo’melorn and the Prismatic Blades. It is also rumored that the legendary Ta’Kierthan Songblades may have been forged of Elunite, considering they were crafted by a renowned Kaldorei priest: many of whom employ music and singing in their devotions and spellwork. The art of bardic weaponry seems to be an elusive one, perhaps completely lost to the ages, but nonetheless a technique that Elunarian scholars still seek in the ruins scattered across the lands of Azeroth. Those who traveled through the Dark Portal nearly forty years ago, as well as Draenei refugees, have noted a striking similarity between Elunite and some regalia found on Draenor, as well as others bequeathed directly by the naaru. No one is certain where these pieces are originally from: some claim that they once belonged to adventurers and were merely traded through many hands, while others are convinced that Elune and her blessed ore could have connections to the naaru, and that the ore may be on other planets throughout the cosmos. Elunite-imbued leggings were also recovered from the forest troll stronghold of Zul’aman; though how they got there is anyone’s guess. A commonality between all of these items is an increased critical strike chance, as well as greater potency for both damage and healing via magical spells. Two of the three also provide a passive mana restoration over time (much like moonwells), perhaps owing to the nature of Elunite’s inherent power.

[theadhddimsenion]

we’ve done a lot of theories on how the internal plot lines of hell will develop but let’s not ignore the earth based plot lines and how they might tie into the greater story.

my guess is that Andy and Stella’s screw ups won’t stop at just making a scene at the harvest moon festival and ruining a crop but the coming invasion of hell by the dhorks is going to be pinned on them as vassago cleverly points out that such things would have never happened under stolas’s watch. Andy might try to pin the blame on stolas for alerting the humans to their existence by giving the imp the book but this time the “guilty until proven innocent” court system turns on him and he has no real proof that stolas’s actions are linked to the human invasion beyond his, Stella’s or strikers word which is far from enough or even trustworthy.

now the imp population is throughly pissed off! Because in the span of a few weeks to a month a pair of blue blooded pricks had not only tried to execute one of them for daring to do something other than serve them, (stolas’s had allegedly) manipulated and abused the one who was on the chopping block, Stella had caused a massive public scene with her usual bullshit, Andy had fucked up the years harvest causing a good shortage and had even led the humans right to them which had gotten several (relatively) innocent hellborn killed and now it’s almost impossible for the nobles to ignore the fact that this time the imps wouldn’t be put down as easily and now they had a leader and the angelic weapons needed to do some real damage!!

as I said in my last post this all leads to paimon trying to bribe his son into selling out blitz but failing miserably and being forced to remarry his Version of Stella.

now everything is in chaos! The ruling class of hell has few options left and those are ether destroy all of impkind which even if they can would mean the complete destruction of hells main source of labor, they can give up their power which will never happen, or there is one last option that none of them particularly like and that is giving into the lower classes demands and actually making good leadership decisions.

finally for the first time ever the ruling class of hell is forced to surrender and wave the 🏳️ and while they would rather die or see all of impkind dead before they give up their power entirely they at least are forced to give the imps (and hounds) the ability to climb up the ranks like any other demon in hell which prevents further civil war.

During this arc I can definitely see bee and Ozzie subtly sabotaging the war plan of the other sins due to them being more sympathetic to the so called “enemy” than the other sins.

Perhaps we could have moxxie taking control of his fathers mob after killing his rat shit of a dad to further bolster the ranks of revolution.

this could tie into the Octavia rescue episode as well as after hearing about blitz and his found family take on a get one over on none other than the king of the goetia himself than this could further radicalize the lower classes.

perhaps in a poetic way of justice satan sentences Stella and Andy to the same punishment stolas got but for much longer as a way of appeasing the downtrodden of hell. It’s not just ironic because they get the same thing stolas got but for the opposite reason stolas’s was punished, stolas was punished because the upper class wanted to pin the blame on someone and make the issue go away but now the two of the biggest symptoms of the classist system are being punished as a desperate means to appease the very lower classes they looked down on. In short stolas and blitz were made into scapegoats to deflect blame from the upper class and now Stella and Andy get the same treatment. What goes around comes around as they say.

perhaps the food shortage problem and Stella and Andy’s jackassery at the harvest moon festival could be a way to tie Millie’s family into the plot.

[redux-iterum]

With your track record with your ‘favourite chapters’, I am deeply afraid of what trauma is going to occur in chapter 45. Also, here’s that opportunity to rant about the Erins’ crippling allergy to characterisation that you asked for!

Chapter 45's a great time. I promise. For me.

Now! Characters and the Erins.

So the characters in Warriors are extremely inconsistent. I think we can all agree on that. Firestar, for example, goes from murder-happy to altruistic and loving to completely apathetic, sometimes in the span of one book. He's constantly said to be a paragon of goodness and a soft-hearted nice guy, but if you actually read the damn story, you can see he flipflops around as the plot progresses. There's a lot of characters being said to be one thing while they behave entirely differently in the story itself.

The main thing that I believe when it comes to canon is that almost none of the cats having a consistent, present personality is more-or-less on purpose, or at least extremely convenient for the Erins. They focus on the plot first and foremost and shove characters into the slots that need to be filled so that the plot they have in mind can progress or be halted whenever it's most useful for them. Would Leopardstar be stupid enough to let Tigerclaw walk all over her in the first arc? No, but we needed the Clans to be split in two for the future battle at the end of the books. Is ThunderClan truly that eager to listen to a clearly battered, befuddled and bizarre-acting Bramblestar, especially when he starts kicking cats out of the Clan? Not logically in any respect, but how else are we going to facilitate drama and get multiple cats out there to help bolster the numbers of the secret rebellion? So on and so forth.

Is planning a plot first a bad thing? Not necessarily. Anyone with enough skill can create a plot and then create characters to service that plot and its themes.

But the complete lack of personality about 95% of the cast displays is much more harmful to this series than a bad plot (of which there are many). The entire premise is about a community of cats and their interpersonal drama. You can't do that well if your readers can't tell you what kind of personality Snaptooth has, or how Mousefur and Runningwind interact with each other. I've talked before about how even families don't feel like families, to the point of not grieving when their child dies at some times (never forget that Yellowfang's own mother is one of the first to demand her be cast out as if she could believe her own daughter would murder her siblings - likely because the writers forgot they were even related). The most we get for personal relationships is romantic subplots, and because there's no character between the partners, there's no chemistry, and therefore romances are more annoying than interesting. Not having real characters is poisonous to the story.

If I were to alter one thing - a singular aspect - in the books, it would be to give characters actual traits, and have them act consistently with those traits. I genuinely believe that if everyone had a personality they stuck with, we could have much more interesting drama, plots that are much easier to come up with and navigate through the different Clans and their members, and an overall higher-quality series with a fandom that could actually ship characters instead of slapping two designs together and pretending they had any chemistry or even interacted in canon.

As it is, though, I can't even say we're stuck with a bland flavor of cats. We have no flavor at all. No sprinkles, no vanilla, not even really any flour to begin with. We have nothing to work with. And it annoys me greatly.

[oodlenoodleroodle]

"Most people are incorrectly taught from childhood that disability simply means that something is medically wrong with an individual person’s body and/or mind. Since the 1960s, disability activists and scholars across the globe demonstrated that a more accurate way to understand the lived experiences of disabled people is by using a social model. On a social model of disability, one distinguishes between a person’s impairments, the way one’s body and/or mind is different, and [a person's] disability, the social responses to one’s impairments. As the disability studies 101 example goes, you may use a wheelchair because of a spinal impairment, but what disables you is a world without ramps and lifts, with stigma and discrimination in education, labor, and so on. It was a social model understanding of disability that led to Section 504 of the 1973 Rehabilitation Act and that paved the way for the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990. It is not an exaggeration to say that a social model approach to disability underwrites every major legal, social, and political advance for disabled people in the US as well as across the globe. Following on the heels of such advances, research in social epidemiology, public health, and qualitative and quantitative work spanning the social sciences and humanities continues to bolster the claim that a central reason why disabled people face worse health outcomes is due in large part to socially controllable factors, as the ACDWGD report demonstrated."

Source

[namajague]

Axel @axel-mania tagged me to talk about nine books I'm excited about this year, and told me I should still do it even though all the books I plan to read this year, or for the next several years, are part of my Arthuriana project. So I will tell you about my Arthuriana project.

For the past... two? years? I've been attempting to collate and read every major source for the legends of King Arthur, in approximate chronological order. This meant starting with Gildas' On the Ruin and Conquest of Britain, from the late 400s, which is just about the only contemporary nonfiction account of the era in which Arthur supposedly lived. (It does not mention Arthur, because he was not real.) Then the Venerable Bede's Ecclesiastical History of the English People, from the 730s, which is a non-contemporary - but studiously researched - account of just what the title says. This, too, does not mention Arthur, and I only read up until about the 500s because I was mostly just comparing sources.

Then. THEN! We get to Nennius' Historia Brittonum, from the 800s, the first confirmable mention of a British leader named Arthur. This man may have actually existed, I must admit. But he was not a king, and some of King Arthur's predecessors are named in this text without linking them to him. This sort of thing is why I'm doing the project, to see how stories grow and change and build on each other. From here I read Geoffrey of Monmouth's History of the Kings of Britain, as well as the Mabinogion. Monmouth was fully writing fiction, which is fine until people try to find the battles he made up, but the Mabinogion knows it's mythology, and it's rewarding to see the seeds of what will be expanded later. This did all start as Welsh history, though now the Welsh are only on one small part of the island. That, too, is part of why I'm doing this: to see how stories told to bolster a native population under siege were turned into justifications for conquest.

There are other books between then and where I am, but this post is not about what I've already read, it's about what I'm GOING to read! And I have an extensive list.

I'm in the midst of volume 2 of the Vulgate Cycle, also called the Lancelot-Grail Cycle. This is from the 1200s, and is... incredibly long. I've finished the first volume, and am two-thirds done with the second, but this will take up most of my year, probably. Luckily, it's fascinating. It's an expansion of many Arthurian myths that already existed by this time, collected into interwoven stories spanning from Jesus' Crucifixion (from whence Joseph of Arimathea took the Holy Grail) to Arthur's death. The Vulgate Cycle was also the major influence on Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur, so - just like reading Gildas and Bede before Monmouth - I need to know the source.

I'm also in the midst of Parzival, by Wolfram von Eschenbach. This is one of many expansions and continuations of Chrétien de Troyes' Perceval (which he died before finishing), but this one was written in Germany and apparently isolated from the various French continuations, and therefore extrapolates certain aspects very differently. Also has the first biracial knight (treated very weirdly), and the first depiction of Muslims as complete in themselves rather than... vile Islamophobic caricatures. Perceval was not a very interesting story, and this is only moderately more interesting, but the points of difference are worth seeing.

Volume 3 of the Vulgate Cycle. So the Cycle is approximately ten books long, plus the Post-Vulgate which I'll get to later. Six of those books, making up volumes 2 and 3 here, are primarily focused on Lancelot. His parentage, upbringing, knighthood, adventures, love for Guinevere and Galehaut, etc. So I'll be reading about this man for a long time.

Volume 4 of the Vulgate Cycle. Here we have the books of the Quest for the Holy Grail and the Death of Arthur. I know very little about those yet! The first volume covered the history of the Grail, and all the Perceval continuations focus on it to greater or lesser extents, but I also know Galahad rather than Perceval is the Grail Knight, so I'll... find out why, I hope. And Mordred in this early incarnation was not some wicked plot of Morgause, nor Arthur's evil nephew as in even earlier versions, but just a child conceived out of wedlock and accidentally. So I will see how Arthur's death comes about, since right now Mordred is just A Guy.

Volume 5 of the Vulgate Cycle. Once the Cycle was complete, it was immediately chopped and screwed by other authors. They incorporated myths that hadn't featured in the Cycle proper, devised different endings, etc. Here I don't even have to search for differences in the stories, they're outright presented to me!

The Knight of the Two Swords. This has been described to me as a secular Arthurian story, which if accurate would be among the first, and that's interesting enough on its own. However I am largely reading this one to get more context for @loreofcardigan's username.

The Romance of Tristan, this translation's name for what is generally called the Prose Tristan. A sub-project within this larger project is my attempt to read as many versions of Tristan and Isolde's story as I can find. There are a lot! I made a chart! They're distinguished as either common or courtly, depending on how the affair is treated by the narrative (in brief, is it a mortal relationship or one in which love itself sustains them with no need for food), and this version purports to be courtly. The Prose Tristan and the Post-Vulgate apparently influenced each other, too.

The Romance of Morien. Morien, or Moriaen, is - after Feirefiz in Parzival - the second biracial knight in this mythos. But unlike Feirefiz, who is described as (sorry for this) "piebald", Morien is a Moor and looks like one. I know nothing else about this story! I just want to know more about race within Arthuriana. (I have supplemental texts too, scholarly looks at these subjects. But I'm not reading them straight through, so they are not part of this grid.)

FINALLY we leave the 1200s!!! Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. I bought this specific translation well over a year ago because it has the original Middle English on facing pages, and I love to test myself with Middle English. Can you believe I've never read this one? I know the basic plot, and it's not even the first Arthurian story with a similar theme, but I'm excited to read it in full. I think it would be nice if I could time it so I get to it around Christmas.

Honorable mention for two books I may or may not end up reading:

Perceforest. This is 7000 pages long and not even about Arthur. In no world am I reading the whole thing. But it's "the prehistory of King Arthur's Britain", much the way Monmouth's book is 75% pre-Arthur, and that interests me. I have a Perceforest Reader, with sections the translator considered particularly necessary, and I may or may not skim that.

The Stanzaic Morte Arthur. Basically, when I get to this one and read the beginning, I'll decide whether it's functionally similar enough to the Post-Vulgate Death of Arthur that I can skip it, or whether I should read it in its own right. I refuse to find out ahead of time, this project is about DISCOVERING things.

[system-of-a-feather]

Sometimes I feel people who spend too much time arguing online about specific stances forget that sometimes people just like to talk about things that are important and meaningful to them regardless of if it supports or weakens their stance and/or in group

Like yeah I have opinions and kinda engage with syscourse, but for the most part, before I'm pro-endo or what ever I am a person of color, I'm AAPI, I'm a practicing Buddhist, I am visibly trans and queer, I am intersex, I love and care a lot about birds, I love research particularly in soft sciences, I have late-stage recovery person with DID and complex trauma collected through my life span, I'm autistic and I professionally work with kids

Topics relating to any of those are things I enthusiastically talk about and love to engage in discussion over at any point and SOMETIMES those things overlap with online discourse and syscourse and overall, the interaction of ALL of those factors lead me to generally be pro-endo

But I am not talking about those things because I'm pro-endo or because I want to push an agenda or bolster a side; I'm talking about them cause >they matter to me beyond online discourse and the online discourse is just one of the many places those topicss appear in real life<

As a POC Buddhist, "tulpa"mancers are culturally appropriative or, at the very least, the "tulpa" community has SEVERE racial issues and perspectives in the community's culture that they have got to work on and address properly. If you deny that, you are an asshole. That supports anti-endo sentiments but WAIT

As a POC Buddhist, I find it pretty colonialist and white / western centric to claim that the ONLY way for someone to legitamently experience themselves as more than one is through trauma because MANY non-european, non-western cultures have the experience of being multiple normalized without being anything clinical or due to trauma. That's a point for pro-endos.

Wait what? Why am I saying endos and anti-endos are behaving in ways rooted in cultural appropriation, racism, orientalism, and colonialist ideology? What?

Maybe it's cause cultural appropriation, racism, orientalism and colonialist ideology is pervasive in society and all groups and I am much more concerned about calling THAT out than I am over an arbitrary online discourse about whose the most real

95% of what I post about I don't identify as syscourse cause syscourse is RARELY the point as much as it is a byproduct OF the point. Like I know many would consider it still syscourse and thats fair and valid, but syscourse is rarely the intentional point of any of my posts these days because its honestly such a stupid debate

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 28 - You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be

Nesta said horny mode is on

Nesta heard nothing. Saw nothing. Only felt that endless ringing in her ears. The man that had helped do this to her was on their side. She and Elain were just casualties of his plan to remain inside the heart of their enemies without rousing suspicion.

Nesta felt sick from it.

Jurian spoke with such a tender tone, his brown eyes flicking often to her and Elain, as he vowed that his words were truth, but Nesta couldn’t let herself be moved by it. He had come here and span the tale to Graysen and his father. She knew what mortals thought of faeries. Knew it too well.

A rational part of Nesta tried to tear her emotions from it all. Tried to see the benefit in his innate knowledge of Hybern and their movements. But as Azriel departed to Illyria to inform Cassian where Hybern intended to attack, all Nesta wanted was to sink into his arms and weep. She had been made into this to bolster Jurian’s stories. Had the Cauldron felt the same for him? Did it claw at his chest like it had to Nesta? Had it been so endlessly cold like a winter that had no respite? And did he know this before standing by and watching them forced into the Cauldron?

‘I do not pretend to have a large army. Only a considerable unit of soldiers. If what you say is true, we will take them. Whoever can make it.’

Nesta could find no joy in Lord Nolan’s words. Not when she knew her people now despised someone like her. She’d find no comfort amongst mortals again. She was fae and there was no reversing what had been done.

‘Take that ring off.’

Elain curved her fingers into a fist. ‘No.’

‘Take. It. Off.’

Even with his father’s warning, Graysen took a step closer to Elain. His eyes were slitted with his anger – and Nesta’s magic soared to her fingertips ready to meet him if he so dared.

‘Take it off!’

‘That’s enough,’ said Rhysand, in a lethally calm voice, one like ice before it cracks. ‘The lady keeps the ring if she wants it. Though none of us will be particularly sad to see it go. Females tend to prefer gold or silver to iron.’

To his credit, Graysen did not balk, but met Rhysand’s look with his own seething stare. ‘Is this the start of it? You fae males will come to take out women? Are your own not fuckable enough?’

‘Watch your tongue, boy,’ warned his father.

‘I am not marrying you,’ said Graysen to Elain. ‘Our engagement is over. I will take whatever people occupy your lands. But not you. Never you.’

Nesta could not take it. Not the tears on Elain’s pale face. The ring she still clung to. The idea that they were worse because they were fae when they had the same hearts and feelings as before.

Before she knew what was happening, Nesta smacked him hard enough across the face that his head snapped to the side. For one, long moment she thought she had broken his neck. The male would have earned it.

‘You never deserved her.’ She turned to Feyre, eyes burning. ‘I assume we’re done here.’

She took Elain by her arm to guide her away. Her sister could fall apart, but not here, not in front of him.

Their camp was moved to the north of the Winter Court where cruel winds blew so fiercely, Nesta had to wonder if she’d ever be warm again. Their tent was small with a brazier tucked to one side for warmth though it did little. As soon as the cot was placed there by an Illyrian with the same perceptive eyes as Azriel, Elain curled upon the thin mattress and wept. Anger and sorrow fought in equal measure inside of Nesta at her sister’s plight. She’d had her misgivings about Graysen – largely due to his father – but Elain had been in the throes of love and he’d seemed genial enough. Now, she wanted to part his head from his body and launch it into the sea where none would find him again for making her sister cry.

The tents either side of theirs belonged to Azriel and Cassian, with Mor’s slotting behind and the one Feyre shared with Rhysand being just ahead to keep them nestled in safely. It was so difficult to hear anything above the howl of the wind, but sometimes Nesta caught brusque tones or the flap of wings. She remained between the brazier and Elain, one hand stroking her sister’s back as she slept. The bitter cold seemed to seep through the seams of their tent so she pulled another fur around her body. Even as the light faded, Nesta remained where she was. Her mind was adrift. Seeing Jurian had been the final nail in the coffin. This was to be her life forever. There was no reversing time and being mortal once more. She was fae. And always would be. A strange sort of acceptance came with that knowledge. She thought of the handsome and thoughtful male who had done his best to ease her into this life. The countless hours that Azriel had spent at her door pleading with her to take that step into their world.

Mating bonds were rare, she knew from her research. There were many fae who waited their whole lives and never found their mates. She supposed she was lucky that she had already found her equal – and there could not be a better male.

Perhaps it was the battle that encroached on them. Perhaps it was her sister’s anguish at losing love. But Nesta pulled a fur around her head, slipped her boots on, and went out into the snow towards Azriel’s tent.

It was dark and empty when she entered. A bag of weapons had not yet been unpacked nor had the leathers which were tossed haphazardly on top of it. Nesta went to her knees at the brazier to coax a fire into existence. Her hands were well practised from their years in the cottage. She knew how to stretch the tinder to make it last. Her face was inches from the ground as she released a slow breath to add air to the flames. Nesta even collected snow to melt for fresh tea for when Azriel arrived. She wanted him warm and relaxed ready for what was to come in the morning.

Finally, after what felt like hours, she heard Azriel’s cool voice beneath the wind followed by Cassian’s much louder, rougher tones.

The toggles of the tent were undone one by one.

‘Surprise,’ she said softly, as he side-stepped through the slit of the fabric.

Cassian turned towards her, a laugh already building on his face, as she realised her mistake.

‘Wrong tent?’

‘Obviously.’

Cassian took in the water boiling upon the brazier that glowed hot, the neatly-made bed, the two mugs waiting for tea.

‘I didn’t know I meant so much to you,’ he mocked, touching a hand to his chest.

‘This was a mistake,’ she seethed.

Cassian gave a laugh. ‘Az is pretty, but I’m a more refined taste.’

She folded her arms across her chest, thoroughly dismayed.

It took mere minutes for the tent to flap open again then Azriel bolstered through, the material snagging on his wings.

‘Nesta’s missing. She’s not in her tent. Not with Mor or Feyre.’

He stopped suddenly. He also catalogued the cosy environment that she’d cultivated within the tent with a puzzled look spreading across his face.

‘A mistake,’ she said quickly.

‘She means not coming to my tent sooner,’ added Cassian with a wink.

Azriel was ready to kill him. The blue of his siphons flared.

Another easy laugh from Cassian as if they weren’t going into battle in the morning and this was all a game to him.

‘You are the most annoying person that I’ve ever met,’ she said hotly.

‘And yet, you came to my tent, made it nice and warm. Oh? You even made the bed for us to mess up later.’

‘Cass,’ Azriel warned.

He held up his hands, grinning at them both. ‘Lucky it was my tent and not Mor’s. You can take the tea, if you like.’

‘How has nobody killed you yet?’

‘They’ve tried,’ muttered Azriel as he hastily poured the hot water into the mugs then shepherded Nesta out while Cassian’s laughter pealed in the air.

His hand was cold in her own as he tugged her across the well-trodden track towards his tent in the darkness then guided her inside. It was just as cold and bleak inside.

‘I’ll light the brazier,’ he murmured. But Nesta could see from the blue siphon light that illuminated him that it took all of Azriel’s willpower to go to his knees and begin striking at the tinder. Each little spark had him recoiling, his hands flinching away.

Nesta took the striker from his hand. ‘Allow me.’

He inched away, swallowing, as Nesta struck the metal and showered the tinder with sparks. With a few coaxing breaths, the flames curled over the dry wood.

‘I shouldn’t stay long,’ she said, rising back onto her feet. ‘Elain is alone. I wanted to see you before…’

Her voice cut off. Before tomorrow. Before the battle where I might never see you again. She wondered how it would be for her – for them – if Azriel fell. Would she forever mourn what could have been? Would the impact be the same even if she hadn’t accepted the bond?

Azriel silenced her with a kiss full of longing. His lips lingered, hovering there with a feather light touch as if awaiting permission before reaching for her. Nesta reached for him again, kissing him with equal fervour. Her hand pressed against his leathers, the siphon beneath her palm flickering with acknowledgement then, as though it saw a challenge, a shadow tickled her cheek. 

‘They’re all fighting for your affection,’ Azriel murmured against her lips. 

She was flattered by it. All of it. The shadows were a part of Azriel and Nesta welcomed them. 

‘I shouldn’t stay,’ she repeated although her heart told a different story. 

The impending morning weighed heavily on her. Azriel seemed to read something in her expression – the hesitation, perhaps. 

‘Why can’t you stay?’ 

‘Elain is alone.’

There was a slight pinch to Azriel’s brow like he knew he was treading on thin ice but continued anyway. ‘You have made enough decisions that have revolved around her. You aren’t her keeper.’

‘When I don’t protect one sister, I’m vilified for it. When I do, I’m doing too much.’

He touched her cheek. ‘Nobody can deny you love your sisters but you don’t have to put your life on pause because Elain’s heart-’

Azriel cut himself off, looking frustrated with his lack of words and the ones he had said. Nesta should have argued with him. Should have told him to stay out of anything involving Elain - but hadn’t Nesta done enough? She’d gone to the ball, listened to her sister’s wistful daydreams about Graysen, stayed in their manor with Elain rather than claim safety in Velaris. She’d been at her bedside, tending to her day after day since that night in Hybern. She’d gone back to the mortal lands, held Elain while she cried, and been the only one to remain with her in that tent until now.

Nesta tilted her head to look at him. ‘You would like me to stay?’ 

His hazel eyes were wide, the pupil blown out from the dim light. 

‘Yes.’

The confirmation was everything to her. When he went to reach for her, Nesta paused his keen fingers. 

‘I thought a lot about today. About my sister. Graysen.’

She should not say this. Should have thought more before she opened her mouth. 

‘There is no going back. I will always be this. Me,’ she amended. ‘Instead of being a curse, I have time now. When I have children, it could be in a hundred years from now. And there is so much that I could do - could see. When I imagine it, you are there. There isn’t a place I can think of going without you. I keep thinking what if something bad happens to you tomorrow and the bond is hanging loose. How will it feel to lose you before I’ve had you?’

Her heart beat rapidly, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. 

‘Of all the males in the world, it could be so much worse,’ continued Nesta, heat scorching her cheeks from her honesty. ‘This sounded much better in my head.’

Azriel was kind enough to stop her from flailing and pulled her close. Her cheek rested against his chest and a hand cradled her head. 

‘I just mean that the bond still scares me. I’m so new to this world and I already have somebody for the rest of my life - but I’m glad it’s you.’ She paused for a breath. ‘I am glad you are my mate, Azriel.’

As he exhaled, Nesta sank deeper against his chest until she could feel his heart pumping against her ear. 

‘What does this mean for us?’

‘I don’t know. It didn’t feel right to have these thoughts and not share them before tomorrow.’ 

She felt him swallow. The implications of the morning looming over them like the blade of a guillotine. 

‘I will fight with everything I have,’ he vowed. 

Will it be enough? The words lingered on her tongue, leaving a rancid taste. 

Azriel took a step back and held her face up, examining her. He saw all the words that she didn’t say. All of the worry that created little stress fractures in her heart. 

‘I have had five hundred years of practise. I’m not worried, Nesta. Illyrians, we’re made for this.’

She couldn’t say to him that he abhorred his people and was vehement that he wasn’t like them. Azriel sensed the doubt in her expression again and held her close. It was just them. Their heartbeats singing with each other, his beats following hers. Beyond the tent, the cruel winter rolled around them.

‘I want to stay,’ she whispered. ‘But I need to be gone by the morning.’

‘I’m an early riser.’

‘Because you don’t sleep,’ countered Nesta with a quirk of her brows. ‘Not a lot anyway.’

Wordlessly, Azriel led her to his low cot that was propped up on wood to keep the cold from seeping into the mattress. How had she even confused Cassian’s tent with this one? The bed was neatly made, the sheets tucked tight around it. The weapons had already been unpacked and lined up on a fur. If she knew him, they’d already have been sharpened too.

The morning was a dark cloud that she didn’t want to acknowledge until it poured upon her head. For tonight, they could push it away a little bit longer. Pretend it wasn’t there.

‘This is for you,’ he said, handing her a long, soft top to pull on instead of her dress.

They did their same routine where Nesta made him look away, but her own eyes were too greedy to do the same. He gestured for Nesta to find a place in the bed first so she pushed away her nerves and tried to be bold. Before Azriel joined her, he placed two letters beside his weapons.

‘Take them in the morning, please. One is for you. One is for my mother. Just in case.’

She didn’t like to hear him acknowledge it. That meant he considered his own death in battle too.

‘Read it if I fall,’ he said softly. ‘Burn it if I don’t.’ At her expression, he went on, ‘I will say it all to you in person. Promise me you’ll do that.’

‘I promise.’

He held her gaze for a moment then slipped into the covers beside her. Nesta tipped her face up expectantly and before Azriel kissed her, she caught the smile that crossed his face. Kissing had become her favourite thing in a few short tries. She could go on kissing Azriel until the world stopped turning. She met each press of his lips with her own, the flicker of his tongue with hers. His hand wound around the back of her neck, fingers stroking her hair as she pressed a hand to his body. It was still different to see him without his leathers. The siphons had gone clear in their armour, discarded in a neat pile on the floor. Nesta ran a hand over his chest where one usually lay then felt the beating of his heart beneath her fingers.

Her hand slunk lower with every wave of their kiss that she rode, each one bringing more boldness to her touch. When her fingers grazed the waistband of his bottoms, Azriel’s breath hitched. For a moment, they stopped kissing, lips only a hair’s breadth from each other as Azriel managed himself.

Over his trousers, she felt his hardened length. Nesta had seen a male naked before. Father had a book in the library on anatomy and she and Elain had giggled at the drawings of naked men beneath the table until they were red in the face as children. But she hadn’t touched a man. Hadn’t known it would be so hard – or so large. A momentary panic rocked her as she wondered if her body was capable of taking such a length. It was akin to being impaled. Her mother had told her that women must endure to make a child.

‘Nesta,’ Azriel murmured.

She had frozen, palm still pressing to his length.

‘You don’t need to do anything – anything like that.’

‘I want to,’ she offered in a soft protest. ‘I just don’t know what I am supposed to do.’

The admission did not embarrass her. She shouldn’t have been touching a male at all unless she was married – and Nesta could not imagine these sort of things took place in a marriage.

‘Can I help you?’

Nesta nodded, unwilling to meet his burning gaze, or she’d lose her mettle.

Azriel removed his trousers and Nesta looked away quickly. His hand clasped her own, dwarfing it, then moved it to his length. She hadn’t expected the skin to be so soft or for it to slide back in her grip.

‘It doesn’t hurt?’ she whispered.

He led her through the motions of what felt good for him – a slight twist of her wrist at the bottom of the shaft, an occasional rub of her thumb against the sensitive head, and a slow rhythm of pumping him. Azriel let her explore once she had found her courage. He lay back against the pillows with his wings spread behind him as Nesta touched and teased him. Each motion was a new way to evoke a slight moan from him, or a sigh, or a twitch of his wings.

Then, when he seemed impossibly hard, Azriel took her hand again, moving it quicker this time as he sought release. She watched his seed shoot from him, the speed faster than she expected, and it left ribbons on his stomach and chest. Nesta gazed at him, at the sprawl of tattoos on his beautiful body, the way his chest fluttered to catch his breath, and the reverent look he gave her in return.

Once he was cleaned, they nestled together in the bed to chase away the cold from the Winter Court’s night. Azriel needed to sleep. Nesta wouldn’t. Her mind was alight. It had been as much fun for her as it was for him. A curiosity had been opened that Nesta was desperate to explore. One of Tomas Mandray’s friends had made a crass remark once about a village girl using her mouth on him and Nesta found it repulsive to suggest a thing – now, she wondered if it was a possibility. Is that what lovers did – use their mouths on each other? How would Azriel react if she did? Would he use his mouth on her? And fingers. He had touched her in Illyria but could he use them inside of her too?

‘Sleep,’ murmured Azriel, already succumbing to his own fatigue.  

An impossible task, she thought glumly, when her mind was occupied with such salacious thoughts.

(I usually use the word cock but it didn't feel right for prim virgin nesta to be using that so length it is)

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Playing Dangerous

(Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut)

Warnings: Graphic depictions of gore, smut

There comes a time in one's life where they must decide where their livelihood lies. Some move elsewhere in search of a better life, some stay planted where they are and make do with what they have, others make something out of nothing. To figure out one's future projection at such a young age was a difficult task, and when you were forced to face the age-old question of what you were going to do with your life, it proved to be arduous.

With parents dead from cholera, no extended family to turn to, and a dead end town in the middle of nowhere, you knew you had to get out and fend for yourself. Slow jobs at the saloon only did so much to support you, and you did not want to turn to sex work. There was nothing left for you here. And beginning at the age of 17, you were forced to take life on by the horns.

Many in your situation would simply grow tired of carrying the weight the world mounds upon their head. Their shoulders can sag and tremble from the weight, the neck bowing and quivering in a cruel display of welcoming their hardships.

And there comes a time in one’s life where they must decide whether to bolster the weight, or to cast it off. You, on one hand, had decided to cast it off.

Over the next few years, you had accumulated a bounty of $200, the prize dangling over the heads of lawmen and bounty hunters alike. You realized at a young age that in this day and age, being a single woman with no stable job would get you nowhere. Your profession became courting men, cornering them into a state where they were most vulnerable and taking the prize when you saw best fit. Sometimes you let them go alive; they were too drunk to remember anything. Other times you killed them; and that came with a multitude of reasons.

Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed, hence the accumulation of money on your head. Your profession of dating and killing your boyfriends had gotten you this far, and you did not intend to stop. You started your killings by getting them drunk out of their minds, robbing them blind, before using a knife or blade of any kind to cut their major arteries. You did this in hopes of avoiding a struggle. You could win a fair fight, but you did not want to risk losing and outing yourself. Eventually the killings became more of a sick fascination of yours. You found the act of subduing men down to drunk, whimpering messes rather erotic, cradling their laps while they were under the belief they were going to have a good time. You appreciated the ribbons of blood that would blossom from their flesh in crimson rivulets. The feeling of wonder you got from penetrating their neck with your blade, dragging it along their jugular as a fine red line followed in its path. The salacious way the lips of the malignant wound would spread open to reveal muscle and arteries, hot blood gushing out and painting your face.

But now everything was catching up to you, in the form of a tall, brooding cowboy.

Quite so, you ran as fast as you could. This stranger had caught you in the act of slicing your latest victim. Unfortunately for your victim, he hadn’t caught you in time. With no time to loot the man of his possessions, you sprung up from the man’s lap and shoved a chair in the stranger’s direction, before bee lining for the back door. It took the stranger a minute to register what you had done, before running after you.

In three great strides, he spanned the living area towards the back door. Your heart thrummed against your chest as your boots stomped against brittle twigs and plants. Your lungs burned as you sucked in ragged breaths, the pain in your legs didn’t even register, you were too focused on the path ahead of you. Your vision tunneled, and you only had one thing on your mind: escape.

You barely realized your legs had been lassoed, the air knocked out your lungs as you fell face first into the hard dirt ground beneath you. Your head slammed into the ground, crumbs of dirt and dead foliage sticking to your cheeks and forehead. You picked your head up and gasped, your legs pulled and dragged through the dirt. Heavy boots stomped behind you ominously, his steps slow but long and you swore it was teasing you. You felt the weight of his boot on your back as he hogtied you, the rope biting into your skin. Your struggle was futile, this man obviously outclassed you in terms of strength. You turned your head to face him. You were honestly shocked.

He was handsome. You’d be lying if you said he wasn't. The look of concentration on his rugged yet beautiful features was captivating. He let out occasional grunts at uses of force against you, and you bit your lip in appreciation.

“Do you really have to tie me up so tight?” Your tone was sultry, there was no way he missed it. You saw a ghost of a smile on his lips as he rolled his eyes at your question.

Even the way he effortlessly picked you up with one arm, hoisting you over his shoulder. You felt his bicep flex as he lifted and held you up, his large hand spanning your back and holding you in place. You were completely, and utterly enamored. But then he began to walk back towards your cabin, and the reality that you had been captured, and were about to be turned in, hit you.

It took you a minute, but you began to trash and kick over his shoulder, causing him to tighten his arms around you.

“Wait, let me go!” You grunted, attempting to wiggle your way out of his arms.

“Not happening. I’m assuming you’re Miss (Name). You match the description and uh… that little scene you left back there sure did match your previous crimes.” He said. He took his time walking back towards the cabin to prolong your anxiety.

"Come on, sir! Those men had it coming! They're low life degenerates with more money than they know what to do with! Who cares anyway?!" You pleaded, wiggling around more.

"You sure do move a lot lady." He grunted, his grip tightening around your waist; his fingers dug into you just right. "But I don't really care about the men. Ain't my business what you do, I'm just here to collect the bounty money."

You whimpered, your head swaying against his back with each step he took. "If money's what you want, I can give you a lot more than what the bounty's offering!"

He stopped in his tracks upon your offering. "Is that so?"

He felt you nod against his shoulder. "Yes sir, it's in my cabin. We just gotta go back there, and you gotta untie me if you want it"

You felt his chest rumble with laughter. "You must take me for an idiot if you think I'm gonna untie you right now. You'll tell me where the money is though. Maybe then I'll let you go" You let your head hang in defeat. You shouldn't have taken him for a dumbass. Now you really did have to give him your stash of money if you wanted to go. And that called for more killing in the future.

He kicked open the back door to your cabin, throwing you onto the floor. You grunted as you hit the hardwood floor ungracefully. Your body ached from being tossed around so much, the pain in your chest and legs hadn't gone away yet, and you still felt your heart pumping and trying to even itself out.

"Now," he rested his hands on his belt. "Where's the money?" He demanded expectantly. He had that no funny business attitude to him that you saw as a challenge. Yet all you could do was lay helplessly on the floor, straining your neck up to look at him. You looked at him angrily, frustrated with your predicament. There was no move you could pull now, since you were tied and on the floor and all.

"It's behind that painting on the wall there." You said begrudgingly. He looked at the wall and pointed at the frame there, looking at you questioningly. You nodded, looking away when you heard him step towards it and set it aside, resting it against the wall.

You heard him hum triumphantly as he picked up the thick wads of cash, whistling lowly when he spread it.

"You certainly made a living off these rich bastards. There's about five hundred or so here?" You could just hear the satisfied smirk on his face as he spoke, and you let out an angry groan. "You can't take it all mister! How is this fair?!" You would slap his handsome face right now if you could. He looked at the man on your couch, pale faced and blood soaked from the open gash in his neck.

"I'm sure he didn't think being killed was fair." He retorted. You hated how witty this man was, but it honestly made him even more attractive.

"Have some compassion sir! I don't got nothing else, at least leave me some of that money." You pleaded, struggling against your restraints. You saw him go through the money once again, pulling out some bills from the wad and throwing them on the table. The rest, he stashed in his satchel.

"Can you untie me now?" You asked exasperatedly. The ropes had begun to dig into your skin painfully now, chafing and scratching your wrists. He unsheathed his hunting knife and turned you over on your back, hurriedly undoing your ankles and wrists. He stepped off from on top of you and allowed you space to sit up, massaging your wrists. There was a tense moment where the two of you sat there, unmoving. You felt his eyes on your back, and you stared at the ground trying to devise a plan as to how you could snatch that satchel off of him.

You shifted your sitting position, reaching into your boot and stealthily pulling out a small knife. In a split second decision, you sprung up and turned around, barreling towards him with the knife in your hand, pointed at him and ready to pierce. He was taken aback, but in a display of his quick reflexes and strength, he grabbed your wrist and squeezed, wringing the knife out of your hand. You gasped and groaned in pain, the pressure in your wrist becoming unbearable. Your knees trembled and you nearly folded in half, simply from having your wrist squeezed. He did not give you a moment to recover, as he gripped the hems of your shirt and yanked you towards him, spinning you around and slamming you against the wall. The wall shook, and any other remaining paintings fell from the impact, frames shattering when they hit the floor.

The air was effectively knocked out of you, and you gasped and struggled to breath. The fear his ice cold stare instilled in you did not help. He looked at you with malice, a look that showed you just how dangerous he could be if he so chose to be.

The knife against your neck did not help either. The skin dimpled where the tip of the blade rested, a dot of blood beginning to blossom. Any more movement and that prick would be a gash. The two of you seemed to have a staring contest. Yet it was clear who was the dominant one here, because all you could do was stare at him fearfully.

Wordlessly, he leaned forward and planted his lips against yours. Your eyes widened in confusion, but you sure as hell weren’t turning down this handsome stranger. Your hands that had previously rested against your side in fear hesitantly moved up, and you shakily planted your hands on his shoulders. His kiss was characteristic of him, rough and demanding. He molded his lips against yours, teeth clashing and tongues sliding against one another. He bit your bottom lip and pulled, sucking on the already bruising skin. You moaned in surprise, still trying to wrap your head around what was happening.

He finally moved his knife from your neck, dragging it down your chest and snagging it on your blouse. He tugged experimentally before tearing his way down your shirt, exposing your chest. You gasped in surprise, offended that he’d even do that yet strangely turned on.

“Relax,” He said. “You can always buy yourself a new one with your blood money.” He mocked. You scrunched up your face, but your expression contorted into one of pleasure when he pushed his thigh in between your legs. Your mouth fell open, a silent moan threatening to escape. His grip on you remained strong but he loosened it enough for you to put more weight on his leg. Involuntarily, you began grinding on his thigh, the thick denim fabric of yours and his jeans providing nearly enough friction. He chuckled at your shameless display, deciding to put away his knife finally.

He used one hand to pull the remains of your shirt off of you before hooking his hands under your armpits. Once again, he effortlessly picked you up and walked you towards the couch where the body remained.

“What are you doing this for?” You asked through swollen lips. “I mean, you got my money…” Although you were asking, you definitely weren’t complaining. You couldn’t believe this handsome bounty hunter was about to have his way with you.

“Since I can’t have all the money, I’ll be taking something else.” He responded. He bent you over the couch, your ass in the air and your torso dangling over the armrest. Your breasts hung over the couch, and the light brush of your nipples on it made you shiver in delight. There was also something so morbidly vulgar about being fucked in front of your victim by the man who came to turn you in.

Even though you were perfectly capable of it, you did not get up and run away. And the man knew that. He knew you wanted this as much as you did.

“Well, at least tell me your name, stranger. So I know what to scream…” You purred. He liked that; he couldn’t contain his smile.

“Arthur Morgan. And don’t worry, I definitely know your name, miss.” Arthur punctuated his sentence by slapping your ass, eyeing the way the flesh moved even in your jeans. He snaked his hands beneath your waist and undid the front button and zipper of your jeans. His hands hooked on your jeans before yanking them roughly down half way your thighs, bringing your bloomers down at the same time.

Your face burned in embarrassment, and you thanked the lord he couldn’t see. You felt the tips of his calloused fingers graze your ass before traveling down between your legs to your cunt. You yelped when his fingers parted you and rubbed your clit, eyes rolling back as you picked up your head and you went slack jawed. The roughness of his hands felt astoundingly good, and just like his kiss, he was demanding, unruly.

“Oh god…” Your back arched up, and you yelped once again when one of Arthur’s hands slid over your shoulder and gripped your tit, squeezing it firmly. He pulled and squeezed at your nipple before sliding a finger inside you.

“Oh! Arthur!” Your legs kicked slightly, his finger hammering in and out of you. Your wetness made his fingers sliding in and out of you even faster; and the rate at which he fingered you was so hurried that some of your juices began to spatter on your inner thighs. He scissored his fingers, carving out the space inside you that you so desperately needed stretched. Arthur’s own cock chaffed and twitched in his jeans, and be busied his other hand by palming himself through the fabric.

Suddenly, you felt Arthur lower his head, his breath fanning against your cunt. A moment of anticipation filled you as you waited for any sort of contact, but all you got was him spitting on your oozing hole. You whined in disappointment as his fingers pulled out of your cunt, but your disappointment was replaced with excitement as you heard him unbuckle his belt. It had been so long since a man actually took you to bed. You killed them all before they could do anything.

His cock head slid up your pussy lips to your hole, gathering your wetness on his leaking tip. You whined loudly, having to be held down by Arthur as his hands spread on your hips and held you in place. Again, same rough hold; his fingers dug into you so hard it bordered on painful. There were sure to be bruises.

Eventually, he slammed himself into you, bottoming out in an instant. His hips slapped against your ass, your skin rippling from how hard it was. You let out a scream from the burning stretch, but you definitely liked the pain. Your wetness provided the lubrication necessary anyway, but he gave you no moment of recovery as he immediately began thrusting into you. His quiet grunts were a contrast to your loud, high pitched moans. Your breasts swayed with the movement and your pebbled nipples continued to rub up against the couch. Your toes and fingers curled into fists, and your eyes rolled back as your weary arms attempted to hold you up. Eventually they gave out, and you once again face planted into the couch, the cushions muffling your moans. His cock slid in and out with ease, and the way your warm wet walls hugged him was heavenly.

“That dead man don’t know what he’s missing out on.” He moaned between grit teeth. He lifted one of his legs and rested his shin against the armrest. His other boot planted into the hardwood floor as he leaned forward and put more of his weight into his thrusts. He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on finishing. You on the other hand, were drooling shamelessly and mindlessly from the pleasure. No man had ever made you feel this good, and you wanted to savor every minute of it. You always did like it rough anyways, and Arthur was fulfilling all of your desires.

Eventually, Arthur slid out of you and slapped his wet cock onto your ass. You huffed in disappointment at the loss of the full feeling he gave you. You lifted your head and looked over your shoulder, watching him stroke his glistening cock to completion. After a minute, white ropes of cum shot from his cock and painted your back. His face was angelic, eyes shut as he bit his bottom lip; yet moans still escaped anyways.

The afterglow of sex was curtailed quickly though.

“You were a good lay, Miss (Name). But I best be on my way now.” He tucked his cock back inside his jeans and did his pants and belt up again. But you were still needy, you hadn’t cum, and you clenched around air.

“Wait… but..” There was a whimper in your voice. “You can’t just leave me like this?!”

The way he laughed at you had your blood boiling. “Can’t let you have too much fun, who knows what you might do to me if I stick around any longer.” He pointed at the man you had killed. You huffed in annoyance, realizing the embarrassing position you were in. As you scrambled to stand up he was already making his way towards the door.

“Wait! At least tell me you’ll be back!” You pleaded, covering your chest as you followed him out the door of your cabin. The wetness in your pants made you shift uncomfortable, not to mention the unsatisfied ache of your cunt. “Bounty hunters ain’t no saints either, maybe we could uh… y'know… partner up?”

He mounted his horse, and before spurring it, he laughed and said “Maybe.”

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Playing Dangerous - Lana Del Rey

[realunderlake]

Fantasy Ideology Part 1: Magic

I don't know if this is anything, but sometimes I like to think about the ideological and social impacts about elements of fantasy worldbuilding.

Like, take magic for example. There are generally different ways it's presented in fantasy fiction. Sometimes, it requires an innate aspect of being to use (a la the force in Star Wars, or however the heck harry potter magic works.) Sometimes this innate aspect is heritable, and sometimes it is completely random. Other times, magic is something that requires rigorous study. And yet, we seem to have one broad conception of magic in most fantasy media: Wizards sitting off in their tower, doing spells and stuff. Most settings don't think about how magic would impact the world that much, and instead make the world a bland, medieval Europe pastiche.

But lets look at magic from a social perspective, taking the classic DnD approach of "A wizard can be taught magic, though it generally takes a long time, and they should start from adolescence." You know what Magic is then comparable to? Because it's not a university professor... It's a Knight. For much of human history, aristocrats were warriors, because learning to be a *good* warrior, who used the most high tech stuff (whether that be chariots, or the couched lance) took a lot of effort, and you had to start pretty young, similar to how magic works. Thus, the social consequences of magic should be obvious, magic should be something that is used by the upper classes of a society, as they are the ones that are able to invest the time and energy into mastering it.

Perhaps however, as technology advances, magic becomes more widespread. Rather than having to painstakingly craft your own equipment, you can get it mass produced. Rather than working on outdated theories of physics (Aristotelian perhaps) you can observe the effects and costs of magic in a much more scientific way, increasing the effectiveness, and perhaps lowering the barrier to entry. Magic would be less blacksmithing, and more welding.

But in an instance like that, the ruling classes would not simply give up this power that they have, unless they have a reason to do so. Perhaps a king supports an up and coming magical bourgeoise to counteract the power of the magic-wielding noble class, for example. A good example of this is in the webnovel Mother of Learning, where the social forces have driven magic to be more equally available, after a devastation of the magic using ruling class through a combination of calamitous war, and the magical equivalent of the black death. In this gap of experienced mages, most of the polities have begun to allow "middle class" non-mage families into magical academies to bolster their ability to fight in the next continent-spanning conflict. This in turn has led to a backlash by the magic-wielding aristocracy, who have engaged in power struggles with the central government of the kingdom in which the story takes place, with many of these "Nouveau Riche" mages taking the side of the monarchy which has formed an unsteady alliance with these more progressive voices.

In any setting that puts some thought into how magic works in it's society, magic should be, by necessity, controlled by the ruling class. Whether that be because the ruling class are the only ones with the means to produce mages due to the required investment, or because those with the power to warp reality itself have decided that they, quite reasonably, want to be in charge.

Most wizards are written as weirdos off in towers because of Lord of the Rings, and because of cultural assumptions from Europe. But crucially, Europe never actually had wizards, and Gandalf was an angel, not a mortal man.

Even in settings where magic is not something trained, but instead something innate, there would be some method by which mages interact with society on a systemized level. Having them be simply random hermits makes no sense. Ars Magica, the TTRPG, for example, has a situation where most mages have a magical "gift", but said gift also makes it impossible for them to be liked or trusted by normal people. Despite this handicap, the Order of Hermes in that setting controls a good amount of political clout, with powerful Covenants being able to ignore the rulings of kings, and the Tribunal of Transylvannia basically co-ruling much of the Kingdom of Hungary with it's actual king.

These interactions of magic with class dynamics has interesting implications for the developments of ideologies. Will access to magical education be seen as a proletarian struggle in the development of socialism? Will Aristocracy persist for longer periods due to the inherent bias of the elites literally having magic? Can liberalism exist in a society where some people can warp reality with a snap of their fingers? Will it do *even better*, due to the radical individualist message meshing with the individual power held by magic?

Interesting Questions.

[quitealotofsodapop]

My Hero Academia x Dead by Daylight crossover: My Daylight Academia

The Entity/La Entité is the leader of a world-spanning villain organization called "The Daylight". Her main Quirk (if you can call it that) is producing pain-numbing, mutagenic blood from her arachnid/plant-like body that bolsters the powers of others and can bring power to the Quirkless... as long as she's supplied with copious amounts of dopamine and adrenaline.

La Entité "feeds" on the emotions of others in her presence; mainly fear, love, and hope. When "well-fed" she produces mutagenic (and addictive) golden blood from her body. In her early days, she found that it was easier to "feed" when she was causing mass havoc - absorbing the emotions of potentially hundreds in one sitting.

La Entité can feed from a great distance - as long as her "Hooks" are nearby. These Hooks are actually semi-detachable parts of La Entité's body that continue absorbing raw emotion from their surroundings, and the produced serum can be fed back to her to continue the cycle.

La Entité gains the loyalty of her underlings by paying the bail or "rehabilitating" convicted criminals, and recruiting them into her organization under promises of wealth and/or power. Once in her web, it's nearly impossible for them to escape - whether it be stripping them of their identities, threats, or by feeding their addiction to her blood and the power it brings. She even has some of Japan's oldest noble clans (such as the Yamaokas) in her grasp.

Dr Talbot Grimes, the lead scientist for Daylight, developed a means of refining the serum produced by the Hooks to allow La Entité's to gather food from further reaches of the globe. A side effect of this Refined Serum is more aggressive mutations and a greater chance of disfigurement from those who ingest/inject it. A Quirkless Killer who takes the Refined Serum is indistinguishable from a Super-Villain with a Quirk. Dr Chisaki is very invested in seeing how his and Dr Grimes research can push the limits of humanity.

It should be noted that many of Daylight's "Killers" are in fact Quirkless - but develop Quirk-like abilities when exposed to La Entité's refined blood.

The main duties of "Killers" is to cause mayhem and fear where ever there's Hooks. Some bitterly liken it to "getting groceries" for their master. They don't need to exactly kill their targets, but they need to get hearts pumping.

"Daylight" has a tenuous truce with The League of Villains; mainly due to Daylight having operations outside of Japan. But the re-emergence of All For One brings a few of Daylight's star players to the League's turf.

Namely...

Evan MacMillian aka "The Trapper": Daylight's reluctant first lieutenant. Quirkless from birth - uses knowledge of the surrounding area and physical traps to ensnare prey. Faced horrific abuses from his peers and family - his father Archie MacMillian made his millions with a Quirk that could transmute coal into diamonds. Refuses to accept a donated perk or the Refined Serum (though has been injected against his will in the past). Surprisingly noble, though is harsh on those he views as "worthless maggots".

This causes a turning point when in attempting to sudue The Dredge from eating whomever it wanted, The Trapper saves a certain Quirkless little boy who dreams of being a Hero.

Trapper, covered in the Dredge's blood: "Are you going to keep crying like a milksop? Or are you going to fight for your dream? If the world is going to unkind to you for not having a Quirk - then be downright brutal right back." Eight-Year Old Izuku Midoriya: :'D Trapper: "Now git. Some brat keeps destroying my Hooks."

Note: Izuku would later find Bakuguo hanging off a weird hook-thing by his shorts, screaming profanity.

Daylight now has an annoying green-haired duckling following them around whenever they're trying to work.

Oh well, at least Sadako will have a friend when she goes to UA.

[djarins-cyare]

The WIP poll results are in!

And the winner is…

✨ Guns n’ Angst!!! ✨

Thank you to all 199 (!) of you who voted because omg that’s so many people and I’m blown away by this level of interaction 😭😭

As a reward, I’ll tell you a little bit more about the winner…

So this is a smutty angsty piece based on the ‘5 of this and 1 of that’ plot structure. The essence of it is 5 firsts and 1 last.

To See A Thousand Things

“Nothing can be sadder or more profound than to see a thousand things for the first and last time” —Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

1. FIRST ENCOUNTER…

2. FIRST FLESH

3. FIRST FEEL

4. FIRST KISS

5. FIRST SIGHT

6. LAST EVERYTHING… 😭

EPILOGUE: Life is simple, people are complicated.

I don’t want to give too much away, hence you’re just getting the chapter titles and that teeny tiny sneak peek for now 😝

I will say that with each chapter, what starts as casual gradually transforms into something else, something neither of you are prepared to admit to or remotely ready to deal with (cue angst).

Timeline-wise, it spans all we’ve seen on our screens so far and more. We begin about a year before season 1… chapters 2 and 3 occur after s1e8… chapter 4 happens halfway through season 2… and chapter 5 takes place after season 2 has finished. Chapter 6 then happens just before s3e1… and the epilogue is after the final episode of season 3.

I should add that I cannot write tragedies, I simply don’t have it in me, so that’s why this has an epilogue. Although it’s laden with angst, I’m ending it with hope.

Also, the inspiration for chapter 6 of this fic comes from @immarocketman’s phenomenal digital painting of Din getting head but looking oh so devastated at the same time (he knowwws it’s the last time 😭).

It’s been in the works since back then (November last year), but it’s taking a while to get right. Generally, I find both smut and angst the hardest things to write, so I’ve really set myself a challenge here. But the fact that it won this poll has bolstered me big time, and I now have new motivation to work on getting it finished.

So thank you once again everyone! 🙏🏻

Hopefully I won’t keep you waiting too long! 🤞🏻

[l-lend]

a/n - Okay it's been a minute but another one for @clonexreaderbingo. This was a bit of a challenge since I've never written for Wolffe and Plo Koon so any feedback would be great.

Eager eyes watched from her perch on the sofa. Florescent costume jewelry encircled her tiny fingers as she gripped the back of the furniture. Her vigil quietly observed by her parents from the kitchen.

“How long has she been like this?” The clone commander asked.

The woman by his side exhaled an amused breath, “Since I told her you and I were going out.”

She turned to study his face as he regarded their daughter. Commander Wolffe was not the most outwardly expressive man, but with time spent together she had grown adept at discerning his mood. The spark in his left eye, the subtle curl of his lip. He saved his smiles for special occasions.

An amused huff blew from his nose as the child sprang from her post with a delighted squeal.

“He's here!”

With a squeeze of his hand from his lover, Wolffe ventured into the living room while his little one sprinted towards the door.

“He'shereHe'shereHe'shereHe'shereHe'shereHe'shereHe'shere!”

As soon as the front door slid open, the child pounced.

“Uncle Plo!”

The guest in question crouched down to the child's level.

“Hello, little pup.”

The two exchanged a brief hug before the Kel Dor's gaze traveled to lock onto the clone. Plo raised a hand in greeting.

“Apologies, I was kept later than usual.”

“It's no problem,” the woman replied emerging from the kitchen, “Selene's been busy setting up.”

“Uh huh, Mom helped me with the snacks.”

“Oh,” Plo turned his attention back to Selene, “another of your tea parties? I seem to remember Sinker enjoying them.”

Selene nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah! Wanna see?”

“I'd love to. If you give me a moment, I'll join you shortly.”

Wolffe's pup shot off. The sound of footfalls echoed down the hall.The adults sat in a moment of silence.

“Thank you for watching her.” Wolffe began.

The jedi's features crinkled, tinged with mirth, “It's no trouble. She's a welcomed break from the galaxy.”

A pair of hands grasped onto the clone's arm before he felt a familiar weight against his shoulder.

“We shouldn't be long.”

“Take all the time you need. However, I need to see about this tea party.”

“Wolffe?”

The commander's thoughts returned to his wife. Her features twisted in concern.

“Sorry, just...”

Her hand folded over his as if to bolster him.

“Work thoughts still going?”

He sighed in hopes of lifting the invisible weight off his chest.

“Selene was almost glad to see us go.”

Her features softened, “She doesn't get to see Plo too often.”

His flat gaze brushed away her attempts to cushion the blow.

“The war was easier, mesh'la. I could handle clankers.”

Her delicate fingers graced the underside of his chin, bringing his face back to her.

“She sees you trying,” She offered a smile, “just give her time.”

The clone commander chewed on her advice through the rest of their outing.

Selene frowned from her place at the head of her plastoid table.

“Something troubling you?”

The child's eyes remained on the brightly colored tea set.

“You've known my daddy a long time.”

The jedi master shifted on the seat he was perched on.

“I have. He and I helped a lot of people.”

“Do you think he likes me?”

Silence the span of a heart beat seemed to stretch for eternity. She fidgeted under his gaze. Plo took a breath as he meticulously picked his words.

“Do you know the name of your father's battalion?”

She nodded, “The wolf pack. There's a picture of a loth-wolf. Daddy has one.” Her fingers tapped her shoulder where a pauldron would sit.

Plo smiled, “You're right. Did he tell you the story about the loth-wolves?”

At the shake of her head, Plo began his tale.

“Loth-wolves are protectors. They scare off anything that would wish them harm, but all the loth-wolves come together to protect someone most precious.”

He glanced at her enraptured expression. Her body leaned forward as if to urge him on.

“One who was brave. She would feed them and care for them, and they vowed to defend her until the end.”

“Who was she?”

Plo tilted his head upward as if to ponder, “Princess Selene of the Cynthus moon.”

Her tiny jaw hit the floor. After a few moments, the child glanced from her plastoid table to a section of shelving that housed a variety of paper.

“Uncle Plo, can you help me with something?”

The commander and his wife soon shuffled in. However, something was amiss as Selene rocked back and forth on her heels.

“Daddy, I got something for you.”

At his piqued curiosity, he noticed both of her hands were hidden behind her back. She pursed her lips before she loosed a roll of her eyes. She was definitely his daughter.

“You gotta close your eyes first.”

A glance to his wife and a reassuring gesture from her, and his eyes slid closed. A ruffle of thick paper met his ears.

“Okay, you can look.”

His eyes immediately met the colorful paper that had seemingly suffered a glitter assault with a drawing that was similar to the artwork that was displayed in their kitchen. Selene held the paper aloft with a grin. The words 'You're Invited' penned in purple as well managed as her little hands could be.

@locitapurplepink, @rain-on-kamino @starrylothcat @writing-positivelyexisting @burningfieldof-clover @padawancat97 @ahsokastechie

[theelvenhaven]

Anniversary Proposals

Glorfindel x Reader

2k Words

Request:  Greeting, I adore your blog and been here since the start, I want to attempt a request for the first time. Reader (fem  preferably or neutral) proposes to Glorfindel in marriage (in Gondolin), they were friends and pinning for eachother since so long but she is human with a limited life span, being anxious, she makes her mind up and does something unusual instead of waiting for him to make the move. Whether you do it or not, know that you're my fav Tolkien blog over here, thank you so much.

A/N: Hey anon! Wow how lucky am I that you have been here so long! I am so happy to still have you here with me on the blog! :) I stuck with neutral reader and I hope that is okay. But thank you so much for your continued support of my blog! It means so much to me! I hope you enjoy! &lt;3

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Today you were going to do it, finally having worked up the nerve and courage to do so. It was a beautiful and perfect day to do it finally. With the sky cloudless and Anor was shining brilliantly down into Gondolin. Making the white spires and walls sparkle and glitter under it’s light, the song birds sang and flitted overhead.

Spring was in full swing, with beautiful flowers in bloom. With trees of gray with leaves of green and silver glittering and swaying overhead. Thesound of fountains trickling met your ears, mingling with those birds and pollinators like bees and butterflies danced among Manwe’s wind. Yes today was absolutely perfect to propose.

To which you could thank Ecthelion for, for bolstering your confidence. Having grown far too impatient to wait any longer. It was either now- or at the pace Glorfindel was going- it would never happen. You would be a ripe one hundred-year-old on your deathbed before the words ever left his mouth and a ring was ever slipped onto your finger.

You loved him immensely and you understood the ravages of time didn’t work the same way for the elf that you grew to love so much. It was slow and long lasting, countless thousands of years he had to live before his fea consumed his body- as he explained to you- but you on the other hand. Your fea wouldn’t consume your body. You wouldn’t live for thousands of years let alone hundreds. 

You were mortal, you would age, grow weak and grow feeble. You would slip away from the world like so many of your ancestors had before you. It was inevitable, and you had come to terms with it, but what you weren’t coming to terms with was how long it was taking Glorfindel to propose. 

The first year you understood, it had only been a year into that relationship. It was so fresh and new; you would not have accepted if he had proposed then. The second year you were becoming more comfortable by the idea of getting married, but by the fourth year you were certainly ready for it. 

Yet Glorfindel never asked.  

Here you were on your sixth year of courting and still Glorfindel hadn’t asked for your hand in marriage. He hadn’t done anything that hinted to you that he was going to propose to you. Nothing to the effect that he wanted to spend the rest of your life together, and now you were downright impatient.  

Holding the little velvet box that held his ring if he couldn’t do it right. You weren’t afraid of the challenge, reminded daily that this forever wouldn’t be forever for you. 

There was no one else you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. What wasn’t to love about Glorfindel? He was kind, and cheerful, loving and funny. Yet just a tad forgetful about the fact that you were a mortal on occasion. This was certainly one of those occasions. 

Though he certainly didn’t forget anniversaries. 

Today marked your sixth anniversary, your seventh year being in Gondolin. Which had been a dream to be here, let alone meeting and being with your now partner. Save it felt like time was passing too quickly and your partner had yet to ask the question.

You hoped that when Glorfindel arrived that he didn’t have an inkling as to what it was you were planning, seeing as you had vented your frustrations to Ecthelion. Who, by all means, encouraged that you propose to him when the idea had left your lips, you made him promise to secrecy. Though there had been plenty of times in the past that Ecthelion had to breach those secrets, granted for good reasons of course.

Quietly you tucked the ring box back into your robe pockets as you heard hurried and quick footsteps begin to approach you on the veranda you stood on. Turning to find that it was Glorfindel who was approaching, with a bright and happy smile and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You couldn’t help but smile as you saw him, his smile was infectious as always. Warm and captivating, you took in the sight of your handsome partner. The way his long blond hair was left long with a circlet of silver sitting atop his head. Dressed in warm earthtones of browns and greens, that were embroidered with little celandines and ivy leaves.

As always your partner quite the vision and the sight for sore eyes, and you felt your nerves only begin to grow as you realized this was the ellon that you were going to propose too. For the love of Eru you prayed for courage to be able to do so.

“Y/N, meleth nin, it is good to see you. I apologize for running so behind.” Glorfindel began keeping his cheery grin as he climbed up the steps of the veranda outstretching his arms, inviting you to step in. You didn’t hesitate to hug him at the motion of the gesture, coming to rest your head against his chest and listening to the thrumming of his heart.

“It is alright, the important this is that you are here now.” You smiled and said with warmth as you lay contently there for a moment, before finally you pulled away. Wondering if now was the right time to propose to him, yet something in your gut told you to wait before you pulled out the ring box not ready to do so just yet.

“These are for you, meleth.” Glorfindel said in a soft voice, holding out the bouquet of roses towards you, you couldn’t help but grin wider as you accepted them. Taking them from his hands and bringing yourself to bury your nose in them to smell them.

There was nothing sweeter than Eldar grown roses, and the ones that the other Edain had tried to tame and grow themselves just simply couldn’t compare. Not to mention the shade of red that these were, there breathtakingly beautiful. You hummed inhaling their sweet scent,

“Glorfindel these are beautiful.” You mused to him thoughtfully before you moved cradle them gently and look up at him, seeing that his grin was certainly still there. Gently he leaned forward to capture your lips with his. Pressing a soft kiss to you,

“Not nearly as beautiful as you are… They pale in comparison.” He hummed out softly to you and you began to blush softly at his smooth and enticing words. Keeping your happy smile, before you reached for one of his hands with your free one, to pull him along further to sit down on one of the benches near the railing.

Glorfindel was happy to tag along behind you, before sitting down with you while you set the flowers aside. Glorfindel was the first to speak,

“How would you like for us to spend our day together, Y/N?” He asked with a big smile, and you couldn’t help but wear some surprise on your face. Usually for your anniversaries the two of you dedicated a lunch and your evenings together. Not really the whole day today.

“You have today off?” You asked him still with your surprise, but quickly a smile overtook you as excitement ran through you. Glorfindel mirrored your expression as he began to nod, jostling his blond hair. The rays of Anor shining down on him, making him even more ethereal and beautiful than he already was.

Yes today would be the perfect day to propose to him, damn any societal norms that said he must do it first due to his status as Lord. You were happy to do it first and knew it would all be worth it and you couldn’t wait to see the smile on his face when you did it.

“Yes I do, it is a big anniversary even if it isn’t our twelfth yet.” Glorfindel said, and ah yes you remembered how the elves had their affinity for six. A calendar that you were still adjusting too. Six days of the Week, Six Seasons, and so on. So you supposed this was a significant anniversary,

“Well then I want to give you your surprise.” You said with a big grin, and you watched the way his eyes began to sparkle with wonder and curiosity. Wondering what exactly the surprise could possibly be.

“A surprise? For me?” He said warmly and you could hear the eagerness in his voice as he spoke. Glorfindel wasn’t one for gifts, and you knew it. But every now and again when you did something on an important occasion he was always accepting of your gifts and excited to receive them.

“Mhmm I do!” You smiled to him with a big grin, before you stood up from your seat, now was the perfect time to propose to him. You had all day to do it, but you were simply full of jittering excitement and couldn’t wait to do it. That was the premise of why you wanted to propose to begin with, was because Glorfindel was taking too long.

“Now close your eyes.” You watched as he gave you a soft smile, clearly with a little hesitation in the air, as he wasn’t usually one for long drawn out surprises. Nonetheless he did exactly as he was instructed, closing his eyes, you quietly took the ring box out of your pocket. Moving to stand in front of him before kneeling down.

Opening the ring box the two of you waited in silence for a moment as you felt your heart pounding in your chest with excitement. With nervousness and even a tinge of worry finding him as you feared that he may reject you. But you hoped that wasn’t the case, you had faith that it wouldn’t be the case.

“You can open now.” You said with a bit of a shaky breath, and watched as he fluttered his eyes open to look at you and then immediately at the ring that was in the box. A look of surprise found his face and that surprise was indiscernible, you couldn’t tell if he was excited or not. If anything you were quickly growing concerned that he was going to reject you.

“Glorfindel, will you marry me?” You asked with confidence, or tried to with confidence that was dwindling down at the fact that he wasn’t answering you and the expression hadn’t left his face. Suddenly Glorfindel stood from his place on the bench, reaching out for your hands, and gently helping you to your feet.

You felt your heart sink at the fact that he hadn’t said anything- and you were utterly worried that he was about to reject you in full. As gently as he could, you knew the rejection would hurt regardless of how sweet and gentle he was. You were fully prepared for it, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

Debating if you even wanted to hear him reject you or if you should just leave.

Before you could make a decision did his hands come to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your cheek before he dipped his head in to kiss you.

Glorfindel’s lips melded passionately with yours, stealing the air from your lungs as he did not hold back. His hands still holding your face so tenderly, lingering for the longest moment as he kissed you. You were reeling from the intensity of his kiss, hardly knowing how to react other than to kiss him back, and try and keep up with his pace.

Finally Glorfindel pulled away resting his forehead against yours, grinning widely as he continued to cradle your face.

“Of course, I will.” He breathed out joyfully, and you found yourself grinning alongside him. Your heart soaring in your chest grateful and happy that his answer was a resounding yes! That he would marry you! Praise Eru!

“There is no one I’d rather be with than you, Y/N.” Glorfindel continued, gushing with excitement, and you felt like you could breathe again. Relieved, happy, excited.

“I love you Glorfindel.” You said to him in a soft breath, and you felt his lips press back to yours again, but only for a moment.

“And I love you too.” He answered you warmly, finally all the right things had fallen into place and you couldn’t be anymore grateful with how they were turning out to be. You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

* * *

Tags: @saviorsong​@lilmelily​ @dicksoutformtl​ @fandomhoe101​ @celebrimbor-telperinquar​ @red-riding​ @miriel-estelwen​ @ta-ka-shi-ma​ @nerdysimpy​ @thegirlwithoutaname87​ @anunexpectedsideblog​ @spidergirla5​ @eunoiaastralwings​ @eternalabysss​ @noldorinpainter​

[cosmosbeelover]

The History of Korean Male Groups – From Yeonhee Professional Singers’ Quartet to BTS -> Pt. 6/? (Rewrite)

In Part 6 of The History of Korean Male Groups, the discussion will commence with the era following the Japanese occupation, highlighting the influence of the United States Army Military Government in Korea (USAMGIK) and the establishment of the First, Second, and Third Republic of Korea, which spanned from 1948 to 1972. These significant historical events have enduring effects on contemporary discourse and are closely linked to the contributions of Korean artists who emerged during this period. A summary of these occurrences will be included, along with videos at the end of this post that pertain to the discussed events; however, I encourage readers to engage in further independent research to enhance their understanding of this aspect of Korean history.

Division of Korea

Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea

The Korean Provisional Government (KPG), officially known as the Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea, operated as a government in exile in China during the period of Japanese occupation. Established in Shanghai on April 11, 1919, the KPG enacted a provisional constitution that outlined a democratic republic, the "Republic of Korea," featuring a presidential system and three branches of government: legislative, administrative, and judicial. The KPG claimed the territory of the former Korean Empire and was bolstered by the Korean resistance movement, which received support from the Kuomintang (Guomindang; 中國國民黨), the Soviet Union, and France. Following 1932, the KPG relocated several times before ultimately settling in Chongqing until the conclusion of World War II in 1945, with several of its headquarters in Shanghai and Chongqing now preserved as museums.

The KPG's existence concluded with Japan's surrender on August 15, 1945, prompting its members to return to Korea. There, they established political organizations under the American military administration and vied for influence in what would evolve into South Korea. On August 15, 1948, Syngman Rhee, who had served as the first president of the KPG, was inaugurated as the first President of the Republic of Korea. The current South Korean government asserts continuity with the KPG through the 1987-amended constitution, although this claim has been a subject of debate among scholars and historians.

People's Republic of Korea

The People's Republic of Korea (PRK) (조선인민공화국) was a provisional government established briefly following Japan's surrender at the conclusion of World War II. It was officially announced on September 6, 1945, during the division of Korea into two occupation zones, with the Soviet Union controlling the northern region and the United States overseeing the south. The PRK was founded on a framework of people's committees and aimed to promote the democratization of both society and the economy.

Associate Chairman Lyuh Woon-hyung (류운형) giving a speech at a YMCA in Gyeongseong (16 August 1945).

On December 12, 1945, the US military government in the south deemed the PRK to be illegitimate. Meanwhile, in the north, Soviet authorities assumed control of the PRK by appointing pro-Soviet Korean communists, including Kim Il-sung (김일성), to key positions, thereby integrating it into the political framework of the nascent Democratic People's Republic of Korea (North Korea).

United States Army Military Government in Korea

The United States Army Military Government in Korea (USAMGIK) (재조선 미국 육군사령부 군정청) served as the governing authority for the southern region of the Korean Peninsula from September 8, 1945, until August 15, 1948. This era was marked by significant political and economic instability, largely stemming from the lingering impacts of Japanese colonial rule, which affected both the southern and northern zones of Korea.

The discontent among the populace was exacerbated by the U.S. military government's alignment with remnants of the Japanese administration, including the retention of former Japanese officials as advisors. Additionally, the suppression of the People's Republic of Korea and the endorsement of United Nations elections that further divided the nation contributed to the unrest. The U.S. military's lack of preparation for governance, coupled with their unfamiliarity with the local language and political dynamics, led to policies that often-had destabilizing consequences, further complicated by the influx of approximately 400,000 refugees from the north and returning expatriates.

Anti-trusteeship movement [ko] protest, December 1945

Key Events

In response to increasing public dissatisfaction, Hodge established the Korean Advisory Council in October 1945. The Council predominantly comprised members from the Korean Democratic Party, which had been formed with U.S. support and was largely composed of affluent landowners, business elites, and former colonial officials. Although a few representatives from the People's Republic of Korea were invited to participate, they declined and criticized the Council members for their collaboration with Japanese authorities.

A proposal for a long-term  trusteeship over Korea emerged in 1945, leading to an agreement in December between the United States and the Soviet Union to jointly administer the country through the U.S.–Soviet Joint Commission, as established at the  Moscow Conference of Foreign Ministers. It was decided that Korea would achieve self-governance after four years of international oversight. Nevertheless, both superpowers endorsed Korean governments aligned with their respective political ideologies, resulting in the establishment of interim administrations in the south led by Kim Kyu-shik (김규식) and  Syngman Rhee (이승만), which faced significant public unrest during elections.

The United States Army Military Government in Korea (USAMGIK) prohibited strikes on December 8 and disbanded people's committees shortly thereafter. However, in September 1946, the Communist Party of Korea launched a  General Strike that began with railway workers in Busan and quickly expanded to other sectors, involving over 250,000 workers by September 24. In response, the USAMG conducted military operations against the strikers and supported right-wing anti-communist factions. A police shooting during a protest in Daegu on October 1 resulted in a worker's death, escalating tensions into the  'Autumn Uprising,' prompting the U.S. administration to impose martial law and respond violently to demonstrators, leading to numerous casualties.

Jeju inhabitants awaiting execution in late 1948

The Jeju Uprising commenced in April 1948 during the U.S. occupation, triggered by the assassination of 30 South Korean police officers by leftist radicals. This insurrection was incited by Pak Hon-yong (박혼영), a South Korean communist who had previously collaborated with  Kim Il-sung in Pyongyang. He urged leftist and communist factions south of the 38th parallel to resist the 1948 Korean elections through any means necessary, announcing a general strike set to begin on February 7. At that time, the communist Workers' Party of South Korea on Jeju had approximately 60,000 members on Jeju, supported by around 80,000 active sympathizers. These individuals not only participated in the strike but also engaged in violent confrontations with government forces.

The conflict intensified following South Korea's independence in August 1948, with President Syngman Rhee's administration largely quelling the uprising by May 1949. The violence resulted in significant atrocities committed by both sides, leading to an estimated death toll ranging from 14,000 to 30,000 individuals. The Jeju Uprising thus stands as a critical episode in Korean history, reflecting the deep-seated ideological divisions and the violent struggle for power during a tumultuous period.

First Republic of Korea

The First Republic of Korea (대한민국; 大韓民國), established on August 15, 1948, marked the beginning of South Korea's independent governance following the end of Japanese occupation and the subsequent United States Army Military Government. Syngman Rhee emerged as the inaugural president after the May 1948 elections, with the National Assembly enacting the nation's first constitution in July, which instituted a presidential system. Although the republic asserted sovereignty over the entirety of Korea, its jurisdiction was limited to the southern region below the 38th parallel until the Korean War concluded in 1953, resulting in a revised border. The regime was characterized by Rhee's authoritarian rule, widespread corruption, minimal economic progress, and a staunch anti-communist stance, which, by the late 1950s, led to increasing political unrest and public dissent against Rhee, culminating in the April Revolution of 1960 that forced his resignation and initiated the transition to the Second Republic of Korea.

Korean War

It is important to mention that numerous YouTube videos are available regarding the Korean War. I will provide links to several of them. These resources can offer valuable insights and perspectives on the conflict, enhancing understanding of its historical significance.

This is a photograph that shows extensive damage to Namdaemun, one of the former gates into the city of Seoul, Korea. A tank is parked near the gate. From: Gene Putnam. Ca. 1951

The Korean War, occurring from June 25, 1950, to July 27, 1953, was a significant military confrontation on the Korean Peninsula between North Korea, officially known as the Democratic People's Republic of Korea (DPRK), and South Korea, or the Republic of Korea (ROK), along with their respective allies. The DPRK received support from the People's Republic of China and the Soviet Union, while the ROK was backed by the United Nations Command (UNC), predominantly led by the United States. This conflict marked the first substantial proxy war of the Cold War era, concluding with an armistice in 1953 but lacking a formal peace treaty, which has perpetuated tensions on the peninsula.

Following the conclusion of World War II in 1945, Korea, previously under Japanese colonial rule for 35 years, was partitioned into two occupation zones by the Soviet Union and the United States at the 38th parallel, with intentions for future independence. However, due to political discord and external influences, these zones established separate governments in 1948. The DPRK, under Kim Il Sung in Pyongyang, and the ROK, led by Syngman Rhee in Seoul, both asserted claims to be the legitimate government of a unified Korea, resulting in border skirmishes exacerbated by communist agitation in the south. On June 25, 1950, the Korean People's Army (KPA), trained and equipped by the Soviets, invaded the south, prompting the UN Security Council to condemn the aggression and call for member states to assist in repelling the invasion, with UN forces comprising 21 nations and the United States contributing approximately 90% of the military personnel.

Seoul fell to enemy forces on June 28, and by early August, the Republic of Korea Army (ROKA) and its allies faced near defeat, confined to the Pusan Perimeter in the southeastern region of the peninsula. On September 15, United Nations forces executed a landing at Inchon, strategically severing the supply lines of the Korean People's Army (KPA). Following a breakout from the perimeter on September 18, UN forces reclaimed Seoul and initiated an invasion of North Korea in October, successfully capturing Pyongyang and advancing toward the Yalu River, which marks the border with China. The situation escalated on October 19 when the Chinese People's Volunteer Army (PVA) crossed the Yalu River, joining the conflict in support of North Korea. By December, UN forces were compelled to retreat from North Korea due to the PVA's aggressive offensives, and Seoul changed hands again in January 1951 before being retaken by UN forces two months later.

Delegates sign the Korean Armistice Agreement in P'anmunjŏm.

The Korean War concluded on July 27, 1953, with the signing of the Korean Armistice Agreement, which facilitated the exchange of prisoners and established a 4-kilometer-wide Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) along the front lines, including a Joint Security Area at Panmunjom. The conflict resulted in over 1 million military fatalities and an estimated 2 to 3 million civilian casualties. Allegations of war crimes emerged, including mass executions of suspected communists by the South and the torture and starvation of prisoners of war by the North. North Korea became one of the most bombed nations in history, with extensive destruction of its major cities. The absence of a formal peace treaty has rendered the war a protracted and unresolved conflict.

Syngman Rhee

Syngman Rhee (이승만; 李承晚), born on March 26, 1875, and passing on July 19, 1965, was a prominent South Korean politician who held the position of the inaugural president of South Korea from 1948 until 1960. He is also recognized by his pen name, Unam (우남; 雩南). Rhee's political career included serving as the first and last president of the Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea from 1919 until his impeachment in 1925, and again from 1947 to 1948. His presidency was marked by authoritarian governance, limited economic progress, and increasing political unrest and public dissent in the late 1950s.

Official portrait, 1948

Rhee was born in Hwanghae Province during the Joseon Dynasty and received his education at an American Methodist institution, where he converted to Christianity. He emerged as a Korean independence activist, facing imprisonment for his efforts in 1899. After his release in 1904, he relocated to the United States, earning degrees from various American universities and meeting President Theodore Roosevelt. Following a brief return to Korea from 1910 to 1912, he settled in Hawaii in 1913. In response to the Japanese crackdown on the March First Movement in 1919, Rhee became involved with the Korean Provisional Government in exile in Shanghai, serving as its first president until his impeachment in 1925. He later returned to the United States, where he campaigned for Korean independence, eventually moving to Washington, DC, in 1939. In 1945, he was brought back to US-occupied Korea by American forces, and on July 20, 1948, he was elected as the first president of the Republic of Korea by the National Assembly, marking the beginning of the First Republic of Korea.

During his presidency, Rhee maintained a staunch anti-communist and pro-American stance, which had defined his political career prior to taking office. His administration swiftly suppressed a communist uprising on Jeju Island and was responsible for the Mungyeong and Bodo League massacres, resulting in the deaths of over 100,000 individuals accused of communist sympathies. Rhee's tenure coincided with the onset of the Korean War (1950–1953), initiated by North Korea's invasion of South Korea. He notably declined to sign the armistice that concluded the conflict, advocating instead for the forceful reunification of the Korean Peninsula.

Following the war, South Korea's economy struggled in comparison to North Korea's and remained heavily dependent on American financial support. After winning re-election in 1956, Rhee sought to amend the constitution to eliminate the two-term limit, facing significant public opposition. He was re-elected uncontested in March 1960 after his rival, Chough Pyung-ok (조평옥), succumbed to cancer before the election. The subsequent victory of Rhee's ally, Lee Ki-poong (이기풍), in the vice-presidential race was met with allegations of electoral fraud, igniting widespread protests that culminated in the student-led April Revolution, during which police violence against demonstrators in Masan occurred. This unrest ultimately compelled Rhee to resign on April 26, leading to the establishment of the Second Republic of Korea. Despite his resignation, protests persisted, prompting a covert evacuation by the CIA on April 28, after which Rhee lived in exile in Honolulu, Hawaii, until his death from a stroke in 1965.

April Revolution

The April Revolution (4.19 혁명), also known as the April 19 Revolution or April 19 Movement, comprised widespread protests in South Korea against President Syngman Rhee and his First Republic from April 11 to 26, 1960, culminating in Rhee's resignation. The unrest began in Masan, a southeastern port city, initiated by student and labor organizations on April 11, following the revelation of a local high school student's death at the hands of police during prior demonstrations against fraudulent elections in March. Growing public dissatisfaction stemmed from Rhee's authoritarian governance, pervasive corruption, violent repression of dissent, and uneven economic development. The situation escalated into significant student protests in Seoul, which were met with brutal suppression, resulting in 186 fatalities over the two-week period. Rhee ultimately resigned on April 26 and sought refuge in the United States, paving the way for Yun Posun's (윤보선) leadership and the onset of the Second Republic of South Korea.

Background

Syngman Rhee served as the inaugural President of South Korea following the 1948 presidential election, guiding the nation through the transition from the United States Army Military Government to the establishment of the First Republic of Korea and leading during the Korean War. His administration, bolstered by American support during the Cold War, adopted a staunchly anti-communist and pro-American posture, utilizing the spectre of communism to justify severe repression of perceived dissent. Initially, this approach was tolerated due to concerns over political unity and potential reprisals; however, discontent grew after the Korean War's conclusion in 1953, as Rhee's government struggled to deliver meaningful economic and social progress, further alienating the populace by amending the constitution to extend his presidency. Consequently, Rhee became widely regarded as a corrupt and authoritarian figure, employing autocratic tactics and cronyism to sustain his regime.

Protesters during the April Revolution

In December 1958, Rhee maneuvered an amendment to the National Security Law through the National Assembly, which granted the government extensive new powers to restrict press freedoms and disenfranchise opposition members.

In 1959, Rhee experienced significant alarm and perceived threats when the United States slashed its economic assistance to South Korea, decreasing from $382,893,000 in 1957 to $222,204,000. This reduction prompted Rhee to adopt increasingly desperate strategies to maintain his political position.

The presidential election in March 1960 featured two primary opponents to Rhee: the minor Progressive Party, led by Cho Bong-am (조봉암), who had garnered one million votes in the 1956 election, and the Democratic Party, represented by Cho Pyong-ok (조평옥). In July 1959, Rhee accused Cho Bong-am of communist affiliations, leading to the latter's imprisonment and subsequent execution. Meanwhile, Cho Pyong-ok travelled to the United States for medical treatment but tragically died of a heart attack, raising public suspicions regarding the timing of these events.

Rhee was intent on securing the election of his ally, Lee Ki-poong, as Vice President, a position contested in a separate election on the same day. Lee faced off against Chang Myon, the Democratic Party candidate and former ambassador to the United States during the Korean War. On March 15, despite being largely incapacitated, Lee achieved an implausibly large victory, receiving 8,225,000 votes compared to Myon's 1,850,000. This outcome led to widespread allegations of electoral fraud, as reports indicated that Democratic rallies were banned nationwide and numerous pre-marked ballots were illegally inserted into ballot boxes on election day.

Masan protests and the death of Kim Ju-Yul

On March 15, coinciding with the announcement of election results, Democratic Party members in Masan organized a protest against alleged electoral corruption. Approximately one thousand residents gathered outside the party's local headquarters around 7:30 PM, where they faced a significant police presence amid a blackout of city lights. Tensions escalated as police began firing on the demonstrators, who retaliated by throwing rocks.

On April 11, a fisherman in Masan's harbour found the body of Kim Ju-yul (김주율), a student who had gone missing during the March 15 protests. Although authorities attributed his death to drowning, many disputed this claim after protesters entered the hospital where his body was held. They discovered that Kim had suffered a fatal injury from a tear-gas grenade, indicating that police had fired at a dangerously low angle. The regime's attempts to suppress news of this incident failed, as it was widely reported in the Korean press and gained international attention through AP. This event catalyzed a national movement against electoral corruption, leading to three days of intense protests in Masan and further violent confrontations with law enforcement. Rhee's administration attempted to divert blame by alleging communist involvement in the unrest.

March 15 50th Anniversary

Seoul protests

On April 18, protests erupted in Seoul, initiated by students from Korea University who organized a peaceful demonstration at the National Assembly to denounce police brutality and advocate for new elections. As they returned to their campus, they faced violent attacks from gangs allegedly financed by supporters of President Rhee.

The following day, known as "Bloody Tuesday," more than 100,000 students from high schools and universities marched towards the Blue House, demanding Rhee's resignation. In response, police opened fire on the crowd, resulting in approximately 180 fatalities and thousands of injuries. To quell the unrest, the Rhee administration declared martial law.

By April 25, the protests had escalated significantly, with professors joining students and citizens, creating a movement that outnumbered both soldiers and police, who chose not to engage with the demonstrators. On April 26, 1960, Rhee resigned, with Lee Ki-poong being held accountable for widespread governmental corruption. The subsequent day saw the resignations of the Minister of Interior and the Chief of Security, who took responsibility for the violent Masan incident. Tragically, on April 28, Lee Ki-poong's son committed a murder-suicide involving his family in Rhee's mansion.

Aftermath

The resignation of Rhee and the subsequent death of Lee Ki-poong marked the conclusion of the Liberal Party's governance. Rhee was exiled to Hawaii on May 29, 1960, with the expectation of a brief absence; however, he was unable to return due to widespread public dissent. This transition led to the establishment of the Second Republic of South Korea, which implemented a parliamentary system designed to diminish presidential authority. Yun Bo-seon was elected president on August 13, 1960, but actual power resided with the prime minister, Chang Myon.

First post-revolution trial began July 5th in South Korea for thirty former high officials of the Rhee regime on charges of corruption, maladministration, and election rigging, etc.

An investigative committee of the National Assembly determined that the police's gunfire aimed at the crowd was intended to kill rather than disperse the protesters. During a subsequent criminal trial, it was disclosed that Park Jong-pyo, the Chief of Public Security, had weighted Kim Ju-yul's corpse with rocks and disposed of it in the Masan area to prevent it from surfacing. Park received a life sentence for his role in Kim's death, one of many individuals sentenced by a revolutionary tribunal for various offenses, including several who faced capital punishment. Among those executed were officials who had authorized the police action, including Secretary of the Interior Choi In-Kyu (최인규) and Kwak Yong-ju, the presidential security chief, both of whom were hanged on December 21, 1961.

On May 16, 1961, amid ongoing political turmoil, General Park Chung Hee (박정희) executed a coup d'état that dismantled the brief Second Republic of South Korea, establishing a military junta that would evolve into the autocratic Third Republic. Rhee passed away in Honolulu on July 19, 1965, at the age of 90, at 19:35 Korean time.

Second Republic of Korea

The Second Republic of Korea (제2공화국), established from April 1960 to May 1961, marked a significant political transition in South Korea following the mass protests of the April Revolution against President Syngman Rhee. This government succeeded the First Republic and introduced a parliamentary system, with Yun Posun as President and Chang Myon as Prime Minister. It aimed to dismantle Rhee's authoritarian regime, promote liberal democracy, and initiate the first Five-Year Plans to revitalize the previously overlooked economy. However, after just thirteen months, the Second Republic was overthrown by a military coup on May 16, led by Park Chung Hee, which resulted in the establishment of a provisional military government under the Supreme Council for National Reconstruction, paving the way for the Third Republic of Korea. Notably, the Second Republic remains the sole instance of a parliamentary government in Korea's history.

Yun Po-sun

Yun Po-sun (윤보선; August 26, 1897 – July 18, 1990) was a prominent South Korean politician and activist who held the office of the second president of South Korea from 1960 to 1962. His presidency was characterized by its limited authority, as he primarily functioned as a symbolic leader within the framework of the parliamentary system established during the brief Second Republic of Korea.

Official portrait, 1960

Yun's political journey commenced in the aftermath of World War II, where he initially served as Secretary to the Chief of Staff in 1947, followed by his appointment as Mayor of Seoul in 1948. He took on the role of Commerce Minister in the newly independent Korea from 1949 to 1950. In 1955, he played a crucial role in founding the South Korean  Democratic Party. However, his presidency came to an abrupt end when he was ousted by Park Chung Hee following the May 16 coup in 1961.

Yun's political involvement began in 1945, shortly after Korea's liberation. He was mentored by Dr. Syngman Rhee, the first President of South Korea and a Princeton University alumnus. By 1947, Yun had ascended to the position of Secretary to the Chief of Staff, and in 1948, he was appointed Mayor of Seoul. His subsequent role as Minister of Commerce and Industry was marked by growing dissent against Rhee's authoritarian governance, leading to his election to the National Assembly in 1954 and his co-founding of the opposition South Korean Democratic Party the following year.

Chang Myon

Chang Myon (장면; 張勉; August 28, 1899 – June 4, 1966) was a prominent South Korean figure known for his roles as a statesman, educator, diplomat, journalist, and social activist, as well as a Roman Catholic youth leader. He served as the sole prime minister during the parliamentary Second Republic and was the fourth and final vice president of South Korea in the First Republic. His artistic name was Unseok (운석), and he was known in English as John Chang Myon.

Chang c. 1955

During the period of Japanese occupation, Chang contributed to education as a teacher, administrator, and principal. In 1948, he represented the Republic of Korea at the UN General Assembly and became the nation's first ambassador to the United States in 1949. He played a crucial role in advocating for U.S. and UN military support during the Korean War in 1950. Following the student-led April Revolution that ousted Syngman Rhee, he was elected Prime Minister of the Second Republic in 1960, leading the government until it was overthrown by Park Chung Hee's military coup on May 16, 1961.

May 16 Coup

The military coup d'état (5·16 군사정변) on May 16, 1961, in South Korea was orchestrated by Park Chung Hee and his associates, who established the Military Revolutionary Committee, nominally under the leadership of Army Chief of Staff Chang Do-yong, who consented to the coup on that day. This event effectively dismantled the democratically elected government led by Prime Minister Chang Myon and President Yun Posun marking the end of the Second Republic and the establishment of a military Supreme Council for National Reconstruction, with Park assuming the role of chairman following Chang's arrest in July.

1961. 5.16 Park Jung Hee

This coup played a crucial role in the emergence of a new developmentalist elite and set the stage for South Korea's rapid industrialization under Park's regime. However, its legacy remains contentious due to the significant curtailment of democracy and civil liberties that accompanied it, along with the subsequent purges. While Park and his supporters referred to the event as the "May 16 Military Revolution," framing it as a significant national awakening, the characterization of the coup as a "revolution" is debated, and its assessment continues to provoke differing opinions.

Background and causes

The context surrounding the coup can be examined through both its immediate circumstances and the broader evolution of South Korea following liberation. While the challenging economic and political environment of the Second Republic fostered conditions conducive to military intervention, the origins of the coup trace back to the latter years of Rhee's administration. Scholars such as Yong-Sup Han contend that the prevailing interpretation of the coup as merely a reaction to the instability of a nascent regime is overly simplistic.

South Korea under Syngman Rhee

Beginning in 1948, South Korea was under the leadership of President Syngman Rhee, an ardent anti-Communist who leveraged the Korean War to establish a dominant hold on political authority within the nation. Rhee's administration was characterized by the interests of a conservative elite, often referred to as "liberation aristocrats," who had gained prominence during the American occupation. This group constituted the majority of the political landscape, including both Rhee's allies and adversaries within the Democratic Party, which shared a vision of society that closely mirrored Rhee's own. To eliminate substantial opposition, Rhee orchestrated the execution of Cho Bong-am, a candidate who had garnered approximately 30% of the vote in the 1956 presidential elections with a platform advocating for peaceful reunification, a level of support deemed intolerable for an opposition figure.

“Combat-ready leathernecks of the Korean Marine Corps march to the capitol after the successful bloodless coup.” 1962-05-17.

Notably, even prominent opposition leaders like Cho were part of a broader conservative consensus among the ruling elite, which was grounded in a traditional Confucian perspective that dismissed concepts of ideological pluralism and equality in human relations as alien. This worldview emphasized the importance of paternalistic governance and extensive political patronage networks. Within this traditional framework, Rhee was regarded as the principal "elder" of Korean society, to whom citizens owed familial loyalty, a bond further reinforced by the obligations linking him to many members of the ruling class.

The governance of the "liberation aristocrats" resulted in a stagnation of development in South Korea, contrasting sharply with the advancements seen in neighbouring Japan. Although South Korea had experienced significant development during the Japanese colonial period, the presidency of Rhee was characterized by a lack of substantial economic initiatives, leaving the nation impoverished and predominantly agrarian. This stagnation spurred a rising nationalistic intellectual movement that advocated for a comprehensive societal overhaul and a complete political and economic transformation. At this juncture, Park Chung Hee, a relatively low-ranking army officer with uncertain political affiliations, became notably influenced by the emerging intellectual discourse advocating for change.

Social and economic problems of the Second Republic

Following the manipulated elections of March 1960, escalating protests culminated in the April Revolution, which led to Rhee's forced resignation on April 26 under pressure from the United States. With Rhee's departure, a new constitution was enacted, establishing the Second Republic, and the legislative elections held on June 29 resulted in a significant victory for the Democratic Party, while Rhee's Liberal Party was reduced to only two seats in the newly formed lower house of the  National Assembly. The Second Republic implemented a parliamentary system, designating a ceremonial president as the head of state, while actual executive authority was concentrated in the prime minister and the cabinet. In August, Democrat Yun Posun was elected president, with former vice-president Chang Myon appointed as prime minister.

Chun Doo-hwan (전두환), demonstration in support of the May 16 military coup

The Second Republic faced significant challenges from its inception, characterized by intense factionalism within the ruling Democratic Party and persistent public discontent. The South Korean economy suffered from rampant inflation and soaring unemployment, with crime rates more than doubling during this period. For instance, between December 1960 and April 1961, rice prices surged by 60%, while unemployment rates remained above 23%, leading to widespread food shortages. Chang, representing the Democratic Party's "New Faction," ascended to the position of prime minister by a mere three-vote margin. However, his purges of Rhee's appointees were perceived as ineffective, as he manipulated the suspect list to favour affluent businessmen and influential generals. Despite the removal of Rhee and the establishment of a democratic constitution, the entrenched "liberation aristocrats" continued to wield power, exacerbating the already dire situation in South Korea.

The disintegration of South Korean political structures, coupled with the administrative purges affecting the military, severely undermined the morale of the Military Security Command, which was responsible for maintaining military discipline and addressing insubordination. This hesitance to take decisive action created an environment conducive to the planning and execution of a coup. The myriad issues plaguing the Second Republic provided a fertile ground for such a coup to be organized and ultimately realized.

Factionalism in the military

A significant contributor to the coup's emergence was the internal factionalism within the South Korean army, which was among the largest globally, comprising 600,000 personnel at that time. The military's identity was shaped by a blend of Japanese and later American training, which merged the Japanese militarist ethos with American technical efficiency. This transformation expanded the military's role from merely defending against communist threats to actively participating in the nation-building process. Reform-minded junior officers perceived the senior leadership as tainted by political affiliations, a situation exacerbated by a stagnation in promotions due to the consolidation of senior command positions following the Korean War's rapid expansion.

Additionally, the military was fragmented along regional lines and among factions of officers from the same educational backgrounds. The most prominent divisions arose between those who graduated from the Japanese Military Academy and the Manchurian officers' school in Xinjing, while lower-ranking officers were further divided based on their graduation classes from the post-liberation  Korean Military Academy. Park, having attended all three institutions, was strategically positioned to spearhead the coup coalition, leveraging his extensive connections with both senior military leaders and younger factions.

Maj. Gen. Park Chung-hee (left) stands with his lieutenants in front of Seoul City Hall after seizing power in a coup on May 16, 1961. (Korea Herald file photo).

Following the fall of the Rhee administration and the establishment of the Second Republic, reformist factions, primarily composed of KMA graduates, began advocating for accountability among senior military leaders implicated in the manipulation of the 1956 and 1960 presidential elections. Major General Park, positioned relatively high within the military hierarchy, publicly aligned himself with the reformists, calling for the resignation of Army Chief of Staff Song Yo-chan on May 2. Subsequently, on September 24, a group of 16 colonels, spearheaded by Kim Jong-pil, demanded the resignation of Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff of Staff Choi Yong-hui, an event referred to as the "revolt against seniors" (하극상 사건; 下剋上事件). At this juncture, plans for a coup were already in motion, further expedited by the aforementioned revolt.

Course of events

On the morning of May 16, a plot was once again exposed, prompting swift measures from the authorities. The Counter-Intelligence Command issued a warning regarding a potential mutiny, leading to the deployment of military police to apprehend those suspected of involvement. Park relocated to the Sixth District Army Headquarters, now known as Mullae Park, to oversee the coup operations personally and to attempt to salvage the initiative. In a rallying speech to the gathered soldiers, he articulated the dire state of the nation, criticizing the civilian government for its corruption and urging the military to rise against it in a bid to restore order without resorting to violence.

The impact of Park's address was profound, resulting in even the military police, initially sent to suppress the uprising, defecting to his side. With control of the Sixth District Army secured, Park appointed Colonel Kim Jae-chun to lead the initial phase of the occupation of Seoul. He also communicated with Chang Do-yong, compelling him to align with the coup or face repercussions for his ties to the civilian administration. Subsequently, Park proceeded to the Special Warfare Command, where he directed operations to cross the Han River and seize the presidential residence at the Blue House.

An artillery brigade established control over the central Army Headquarters and secured the northern downtown areas of Seoul, situated north of the Han River. By 4:15 AM, following a brief confrontation with loyalist military police stationed at the Han bridge, Park's forces successfully occupied the administrative buildings of all three government branches. They then proceeded to seize the headquarters of the Korean Broadcasting System (KBS), where they announced the formation of the Military Revolutionary Committee and their assumption of power.

General Lee Han-lim, the only commanding officer to declare public opposition to the coup.

The proclamation articulated the military's rationale for the coup, stating that the authorities could no longer avoid conflict and had initiated a coordinated operation to take control of the government. The military justified their actions by asserting that the nation's future could not be entrusted to a corrupt and ineffective regime, and emphasized the necessity for the armed forces to guide the country, which they believed had strayed dangerously off course.

The broadcast further delineated the coup's policy goals, which included a staunch anti-communist stance, the strengthening of relations with the United States, the eradication of political corruption, the establishment of a self-sufficient national economy, the pursuit of Korean reunification, and the removal of the current political leadership. Although the proclamation was issued in the name of Chang Do-yong, identified as the committee's chairman, it was done without his prior consent. As dawn approached, a marine corps unit led by Kim Yun-geun crossed the Han River and took control of the Blue House as per orders.

The civilian government swiftly collapsed following the coup. Prime Minister Chang Myon fled Seoul upon learning of the takeover, while President Yun Posun resigned himself to the situation, continuing as a nominal leader until 1963, albeit devoid of real authority. Commander Lee Han-lim of the First Army had initially planned to mobilize reserves to counter the coup but ultimately retreated to avert a potential North Korean incursion, leading to his arrest two days later. With twenty heavily armed divisions backing the coup in Seoul, any hope of suppression was effectively extinguished. After three days in hiding, Chang Myon emerged to announce the resignation of his entire cabinet, transferring power to the new junta. Army cadets paraded through the streets in support of the coup, and Chang Do-yong accepted his role as chairman of the committee, thereby legitimizing its authority. The May 16 coup was thus fully realized.

Aftermath

The process of establishing a new government commenced promptly following the completion of the coup, with martial law being enacted immediately. On May 20, the Military Revolutionary Committee was rebranded as the Supreme Council for National Reconstruction (SCNR), and a new cabinet was formed the next day. Chang Do-yong, who served as the committee's chairman, retained his position as Army Chief of Staff while also assuming the roles of Prime Minister and Defence Minister, thereby becoming the formal leader of the administration. The SCNR was structured as a junta comprising the 30 highest-ranking military officials, organized into 14 subcommittees, and was endowed with extensive powers, including the authority to enact laws, appoint cabinet members, and oversee the overall administration.

The leaders of the Military Revolutionary Committee pictured on 20 May, four days after the coup: chairman Chang Do-yong (left) and vice-chairman Park Chung Hee (right).

However, the formation of the new cabinet was marred by a fierce internal power struggle, which Park swiftly navigated to consolidate authority. On June 6, the SCNR enacted the Law Regarding Extraordinary Measures for National Reconstruction, which effectively removed Chang from his roles as Defense Minister and Army Chief of Staff. This legislation was largely crafted by Yi Seok-che, who was acting under Park's directive to "eliminate" Chang. Subsequently, on June 10, the Supreme Council for National Reconstruction Law was passed, designating the deputy chairman of the SCNR as the head of its standing committee, thereby augmenting Park's powers. Ultimately, on July 3, Chang was arrested on charges of conspiring to instigate a counter-coup, and the June 10 law was revised to enable Park to take on the dual role of chairman of both the SCNR and its Standing Committee.

Legacy and evaluation

The coup on May 16 marked the beginning of a succession of military governments that persisted in various forms until 1993. It set a precedent for subsequent coups, including those on December 12 and May 17, orchestrated by Chun Doo-hwan, who succeeded Park. The emergence of a unified opposition during Park's regime, culminating in the Gwangju Democratization Movement post-1980, led to significant debate regarding the coup. Critics, including figures like Kim Dae Jung, condemned it as an unjustified act of violence that dismantled South Korea's first authentic democratic government, while others highlighted its positive outcomes, such as the rapid industrialization noted in a 1994 Freedom House report.

In the official narrative prior to 1993, the coup was termed the "May 16 Revolution" (5·16 혁명; 五一六革命) However, under the reformist leadership of Kim Young-sam, who had previously been an opposition figure, it was reclassified as a coup or military insurrection (군사 정변; 軍事政變). Park characterized the "May Revolution" as an essential act of self-defence for the Korean populace, and the military regimes' historiography framed it as a manifestation of national will. Kim Young-sam's reinterpretation challenged this perspective, simultaneously acknowledging the April 1960 protests as the "April Revolution."

This reinterpretation gained traction between 1994 and 1995 through educational reforms and the publication of history textbooks that adopted the new terminology. The shift in labelling reflects a broader societal reassessment of the events surrounding the coup and its implications for South Korea's political landscape. The evolving narrative underscores the complexities of historical memory and the ongoing struggle over the interpretation of pivotal moments in the nation's history.

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The second part of this episode will be available soon. Due to unexpected challenges in saving the complete episode, it has been split into two segments. In the upcoming part 2, I will discuss the Third Republic of Korea, accompanied by videos at the conclusion that address the events covered. I also urge readers to pursue additional independent research to deepen their comprehension of this facet of Korean history.