I'll Never See White & Gold Without Visual Aid

I'll never see white & gold without visual aid

Bringing this bitch back in this here 2023

kittyyyy

*When Harry "dies" he recieves a third option, which is go back in time and he does that. And when is time for old Voldy to return-* Harry: Cedric, I would love if you could win this shit, but I have to take this fucking thing alone or else you'll die. I'm not even kidding. Been there, done that and it wasn't fun for either of us. Cedric: Cedric: So, you used a Time Turner? Harry: Nah, I died at 17 and recieved 3 options; move on, go back to the moment I died or go back in time...I chose go back in time, sounded more fun and I could fix some shit up. Cedric: Cedric: Okay, I'll just send the red sparks for me then...Good luck, I guess? Harry: I'll need that. *In the graveyard, after Voldy has a body* Harry: *Stuns every Death Eater* Harry: It's just me and you now, Tommy. Voldemort: What the actual fuck? How did you break free?! Harry: That's something that should be between me and Merlin. Harry: And oh, btw? I know about the Horcruxes and I destroyed almost all of them. Harry, putting his own wand on his head: Avada Kedavra. Voldemort: Voldemort, to Harry: Potter? Voldemort, to his Death Eaters: What the fuck just happened? And why are you all useless bitches still stunned if he just committed suicide?! Harry: Because I'm not dead, motherkiller! Voldemort: What the fuck?! Harry: Now you can be killed, but for now I'm just gonna stun you and go back to Hogwarts with you and your little fucked up minions. We'll see from there. *Back to Hogwarts* Harry: I'm back with a few gifts, motherfuckers! The students: The professors: The parents: Fudge: Are those —? Harry, pointing to the DEs: Death Eaters, yes. Harry, pointing to Voldemort: And that's Tommy. Harry, pointing to Pettigrew: Oh and that's the traitor, the one who really got my parents murdered by Tommy, Peter Pettigrew. Fudge: Tommy? Harry: Yeah. Harry, seeing everyone's confusion: Oh, sorry, my bad! I forgot that not everyone knows Voldemort's real name... Harry, pointing to Voldemort: That's Voldemort. Everyone: *Screaming, panicking, fainting, throwing up* Harry: Oh, come on! He's fucking stunned and I could just kill him right now infront of everyone if that makes you all feel better! Fudge: Please, do that. I, as Minister of Magic, give Harry Potter a special permission to use a Unforgivable Curse to kill the one know as Lord V-Voldemort. Harry: Fine. Harry, pointing his wand to Voldemort: I guess it's bye forever now, Tommy. See you never. Avada Kedavra. Everyone: *Relief sighs* Moody/Crouch Jr: NOOOOOO! MY MASTER! Harry: Oh, forgot about you, honestly. That's not Alastor Moody, guys! That's actually Barty Crouch Jr on Polyjuice! Snape: And how do you know that? Harry: I just know. If you don't believe me you can wait until the effect of the potion is gone. Snape: Oh, we will. Harry: Okay, but can I please go to sleep then? I'm fucking tired. Dumbledore: Of course you can, my boy. Harry: Please, grandpa Dumbles, I'm not biologically yours, so don't call me that. Dumbledore: Snape: McGonagall: Flitwick: Sprout: Hermione: *facepalms* Hermione, grabbing Harry: Ron and I will take Harry away now, everyone! He's clearly exhausted... *Gryffindor common room, after Ron & Hermione dropped Harry into the boys dormitory* Ron: Hermione? Hermione: Uh? Ron: Did Harry really called Dumbledore 'Grandpa Dumbles' and got away with it? Hermione: Pretty much, yeah.

April 12: Argue

Day 12 of @hinnymicrofic

She’s arguing with her mother, equal parts terrified and furious, trying to get her to see reason, when she feels him walk up behind them. 

Their reunion certainly isn’t what she’d fantasized about since he left - Harry’s only looked at her once since she arrived. Rather than happy, he’d looked haunted to see her, like the very sight of her struck fear into his heart. 

He appears older, though she can’t pinpoint what about him has aged. Perhaps it’s that he holds himself like an adult, now, commanding some sort of attention and respect without asking for it. But the dark circles beneath his eyes and the frequent journey his hands take through his hair points to a bone deep exhaustion and a steep toll that the past year has taken.

She needs to fight with her family, with him. Her mother can’t possibly fail to understand that, can she? 

On some level, she recognizes the vague innocence her mother is trying to protect, some ideal notion that children ought not to be involved in wars. Well, they ought not to be, but they are. Ginny is involved. Has been since she was 11, despite the fact that her family seems to conveniently forget it at every opportunity.

Ginny hasn’t forgotten.

The delusion of protecting her from any of this should have been abandoned at the first drop of ink in that cursed diary. How can they expect her to sit back, to watch as everyone she loves puts themselves in danger to fight a battle that is more personal to her than to any of them?

But Mum’s still telling her no, and you can’t, and you’re too young, like fighting a war would be a more reasonable thing to do in three month’s time, so Ginny turns to Harry, hoping to find an ally - that he’ll understand better than anyone the need to act, to protect. 

She meets his gaze and her heart sinks into the floor.

He’s looking at her like he’s a marionette and she’s the last string holding him upright, and then he shakes his head.

She only turns away from him when the tears sting.

She can’t believe he’s asking this of her, but it’s the asking that does it. His eyes aren’t saying no; they’re saying please. He’s not telling her she’s incapable, or she’s too young for this; he’s simply begging her to stay out of it. She resents the way she can read his every thought, because perhaps if she couldn’t, if she loved him less, then she could have ignored his silent plea: I can’t do this if you’re here.

His appeal works where no one else’s would have; she’s made friends with the fear in his eyes, has lived with hers since he disappeared from the wedding. She accepts it; doesn’t argue any further. He has a job to do, after all.

He’d better go and do it, then, and come back to her. Because she needs to tell him afterward that it isn’t fucking fair that he’s begged her to protect his heart while hers is pumping frantically in the palm of his hand.

"Enjoying Dadzawa while also understanding canon is suffering"

Funny thing about that, when I got into the fanfic side of BNHA, I hadn't interacted with canon or the fandom in years, and the first fics I read were, by pure chance (and saturation) mostly Dadzawa fics.

And while I enjoyed them all, there was this weird feeling in the back of my head, like something is wrong, like, wasn't that dude kind of an asshole, at least at first?

It wasn't until I plopped out of the Dadzawa bubble and read a fic that has him be a lot closer to canon and the author commenting on that very fact, that I remembered everything.

So, yeah, this fandom nearly made my gaslight myself into believeng that Aizawa always was a good teacher!

(I still enjoy som good Dadzawa, but every now and then I just need to see the guy get roasted!)

I believe that every MHA fan needs the following:

A Villain poor little meow meow so that they're more willing to hear out the criticisms of society. (Mine is Toga if you hadn't guessed)

An understanding that Midoriya deserves everything, including all the parental figures.

An understanding that the above point is not necessarily canon compliant.

A willingness to acknowledge that this is okay

Hinny Smut Masterlist

better than firewhiskey

all I want for christmas

rougher

light magic

let go

Harry’s happiest christmas

a taste of victory

shiver

endurance

a snitch in time

all the way

the sea spills violently onto the shore, my love

all these things we do

need more

and if it’s sweeter, I’ma eat it til I get sugar diabetes

three times

a soft place to land

midnight

a lesson overheard

rough

firewhiskey & happy endings

fantasies

Harry’s need

staying

the morning after

chicken sandwiches and firewhiskey

later

reminder

deserving

peace

unwinding after work

homerun

perks of the job

meeting at midnight

let’s spend the night together

the thunderstorm

of recklessness and water

17, clumsy, and shy

slit.