#if this post gets any amount of notes I will be very confused

[flershnork]

{Insert Joke Set Up Here}

Suspiciously HEV Mark V shaped bag of chips:

[lefaystrent]

Say 'opt' five times in a row. It makes your mouth bounce with horse hooves.

[kenyummy]

✰ 06. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 06. take a bite.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: hi lovelies!!! unmmmmm its been a very hot minute. sorry!!!! my job and uni prep have taken me hostage not to mention math exams woooowweee. im gonna try and be more active now and post a bit more, so hopefully look forward to that!!! also ill answer any asks asap 💞💞 ily all ok muah

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

You think you mayyy have gotten ahead of yourself. A very slim maybe.

Sure, all these things probably needed to be said at some point, but jeez, you'd never met the guy before. You could've given it at least a day or two. Now, you're stuck in this situation. Cringing at yourself in the mirror, holding back from slamming your head against the mirror to rid yourself of these crippling memories.

Your eyebags—they speak for themselves—and your expression is anything but pleasant.

Last night was awkward. Awkward can't even begin to describe it, actually. It was excruciatingly awful, looking back on it. You have no idea what he is or was thinking, ir even how he acted outside of those diary entries. Maybe these assumptions were wrong. Maybe you were biting off more than you could chew.

(But it was hard to think this way when his expression; his words, they seemed to resonate with it so deeply).

Regardless, you can't dwell on this forever. You have a mission to do. Mission being; not failing school and incurring the wrath of your father. And getting back home. But that was a given.

You barely feel like yourself. You don't even look like you. This house isn't yours, nor are these clothes. The scent you spray onto your body isn't familiar, and even the shampoo on your nightstand is tacky and strange feeling.

All this time, you had never felt this lost. You may not be alone, but in this giant mansion, away from all your friends—you may as well be.

Your siblings were strange and unlikeable to you. You had barely even seen your father since you'd gotten here. Alfred was the only person you seemed to be able to even have a semblance of a normal conversation with. The knowledge is daunting, but not painful. You don't care.

It's all temporary, anyway.

... You hope. But knowing Reed, you'll be back before you can say, Hello, New York.

In a math class you've already done a year ago, you find yourself beginning to doze off with these thoughts plaguing the forefront of your mind. Cheek squished upwards in your hands, you aren't worried.

Your spidey sense is really handy; your head will tingle with that familiar static when the teacher's suspicions grow to large and you've already done your work, anyway.

But Harry doesn't seem to be doing so hot, you note when your eyes snap open and your pen finds a home in the dips of your fingers. As the teacher walks past your seat, you glance back at Harry's spot. Away from you, and on purpose, for sure. (At least, knowing you and your Harry—the amount of mischief whispered behind your hands was impalpable and certainly not appreciated by your teacher.)

He looks distressed by the worksheet in front of him, and small bits of laughter rumble from your chest. You feel gleeful, the best you'd felt from this crummy morning.

Those blue eyes meet yours and are practically screaming for help, to which you have to hide your smile behind a hand. The girl beside you shoots you a confused look, but nevertheless focuses on the math in front of her.

He mouths, Help me. It's a bit difficult the sound the rest out, but you think it's a mix of, This is impossible and I can't do this anymore.

Without much else of a clue on what you could possibly do to help him with that dictator of a math teacher around, you shrug your shoulders.

I'll help you out at lunch, you wordlessly mouth to him back, making a small heart with your index finger and thumb to go along with a sly wink. A teasing gesture, something you'd find yourself doing with your own best friend back home. Nothing more, nothing less.

His cheeks flush with a bright red before he chuckles to himself, lowering his head as if you couldn't still see that he was grinning stupidly to himself. Hand resting at the back of his slim neck and pen limp in his hand, not even pretending like he was actually doing something.

The reality dawns on you again and you turn away.

Once again, your stomach sinks. Not at him. Not at the prospect he thought you were flirting. Just at how, even for a second, you were unable to forget that this was not your home.

Once again, you feel lost in your own skin and nothing about you seems to sit just right.

... Even through your years of crime fighting, even through the hate and backlash from the public, even when a Skrull had stolen your face and you had looked yourself dead in the eye—not once have you felt as estranged as you have now.

"I hate teen drama." MJ moans dramatically, draping her arms on your shoulders and slumping, putting all her body weight onto you and you find yourself having to cling to her shoulders to keep her upright. If you didn't have that enhanced strength, you think you'd fall right down with her.

Harry slams his locker door shut and shoots her an amused look, "What happened now? That guy you were talking to ended up having a girlfriend after all?"

"Even worse." She tilts her head up to look at him from where it still lay against your shoulder, cheek smushing against the fabric of your shirt, "His ex is cuckoo. Like seriously,"

She spin her index finger around her head and then knocks against it with a closed fist. "There's something up with her. She hasn't stopped glaring at me since third period. I think she actually wants to kill me."

"That makes two of us," you speak, pushing her up so that it doesn't look like she's trying to fuse into you Steven Universe style.

She crosses her arms and frowns, red brows narrowing down at you, "I'm serious! What are you gonna do if I die? You can't take the comedic relief out of an already-established trio."

"You think you're the comedic relief?" Harry asks, genuinely surprised. MJ doesn't seem to take this too kindly—understandably.

You'd say you're pretty funny. Or your version of yourself, that is... this you. You aren't sure about the other you. Seemed pretty glum, but you digress. You'd be mad at the world if you were born here too, as harsh as that sounds.

Students pour out around you and you hear the bell chime around you. The day is over, as fast as it began. Too bad. You almost found yourself enjoying school.

Because at least that meant you didn't have to go back home, a place where you felt the least like yourself than anywhere.

"[name]?"

A hand waving itself in front of your face makes you blink back to reality, staring up at its owner. Harry looks concerned, an expression you think you've been seeing a lot of on his face and it's ridiculously defined cheekbones lately. "Are you okay? You spaced out again."

Again? Has this been happening lately? You hadn't even realised. Even your base instincts, your enhanced senses, hadn't even snapped you out of it.

"I'm okay. Sorry. Just uh..." You press your lips tightly together, gaze lowering. "Having some trouble at home."

You say, and you really don't want to elaborate.

"Is it with your brothers again?" MJ speaks softly, quietly, even though there's barely anybody left in the hallways after school hours. Your eyes widen a tad. You're sure you'd never told them anything, and you guessed this original you wasn't too keen on sharing their personal life either, so...

"How...?"

"They're not exactly subtle in sending you to the poor school then never bothering to pick you up in one of their fancy cars." MJ rolls her eyes. "You literally take the public bus home. Bruce Wayne's kid. It doesn't really take a genius to figure it out."

You chew down on your lip. They're right. It's not as subtle as you thought. A strong pair of arms wrap around you and your face heats up when your chin digs into Harry's woollen sweater.

"[name], we don't care. Their loss. You don't need them, you have us. Always, no matter what."

... Does he think you're upset about this? Embarrassed? Really, you aren't. But the gesture is sweet and you really do love your friends, so you don't hesitate to hug him right back.

"Thanks," you murmur, eyes not meeting his as MJ places a soft hand on your shoulder. Maybe you should be sad? It's a bit unnatural to appear so stoic when you talk about something like this, no? "But it's fine. It doesn't bother me anymore. You're right. I have you guys, and you two are more than enough."

"Since when did you get so good with words?" MJ slyly eyes you up and down, thoroughly amused. "You know, the old you would've just told us it's nothing and everything's okay. What happened?"

A smile forms across your lips. This time—a real one. "I guess I just had an epiphany. Not even my ego's more important to me than you guys."

My family.

You walk out through the gates laughing. A few other students still surround the building and even fewer walk out behind you and your friends—probably those bothered enough to take up after school tutoring programs and clubs and anything of the sort.

The ones that linger at the gate are frantically texting on their phones—probably spamming their parents to hurry and pick them up, because it was starting to get cold again. The clouds fog up the clear sky and blocks the sunlight from hitting the ground, so the world around you is dim as well. Not a good look for Gotham.

"We're so gonna get jumped." MJ blurts out, gripping the straps of her bag tightly. "Me and [name], I mean. You're totally safe, Harry. You and that driver of yours. Tell him I said hi, by the way."

"You're throwing shade now? I told you both you're welcome to drive with us if you want to."

You shake your head, no matter how much MJ's eyes brighten. "You live all the way on the other side of Gotham. We don't want to bother you. We all know how your dad gets when you slack on your homework."

Harry hums, "Yeah, but he likes you both, so it cancels out."

"Norman likes me?" MJ looks positively flabbergasted at this news, as if she hadn't even considered it before. "He always gives me the strangest smiles. I thought he secretly wanted me out of your life."

"Trust me, if he wanted you out, he wouldn't keep it a secret." Harry sighs, exasperated. "Actually, he respects you a bunch. He's seen you on TV a few times with your reporting work experience. Dad thinks you're the kind of reporter this city actually needs."

MJ places a hand over her heart, as if it were suddenly warmed by this strange act of kindness showed by The Normal Osborn.

A loud rev grabs all of your attention before you can even think of what to ask next. Whether Norman liked you, or even superheroes in general. Whether the Green Goblin was even a thing. So many questions, and such little time.

You turn to where the obnoxious bike noise came from, and your blood runs cold. All warning signals in your head go off and you can't help but instinctively ball up your fists.

Your (?) brother. Jason. He sits atop a stationary motorcycle, a strange smile atop his lips and a black helmet snug under his bicep. He's wearing a black biker outfit you'd never once ever imagine would exist in real life and MJ is literally gawking.

His eyes seem to have caught yours before you'd even noticed he were there. Now, when you're staring at him in such dumb looking shock—he gestures toward you, "C'mon. I'm takin' you home today."

"Wh... what...?" You splutter, fingers digging into the toughness of your palm. "Why? Nobody said anything about..."

Jason swings his leg over the seat of the motorcycle and adjusts his rear view mirror absent-mindedly, "Spur of the moment. I wanted to spend more time with you."

Harry and MJ, from beside you, coo quietly at you, teasingly. Despite your love for your friends, you really wished they could see the dread slowly seeping into your skin.

You feel like you're on your last leg when you conjure up the lamest excuse you could possibly come up with. "... I don't have a helmet. It's not safe."

"You're with me. You think I'll let anything happen while I'm here?" His words are sweet, like those of a regular elder brother. Normal sounding, to your friends who give you a small nudge to your side.

But you know better. You've seen him covered in sticky crimson blood and you've seen the shiny metal of the mask that covers his face.

You know that his words aren't as sweet as they are a promise. A promise you're entirely sure he is willing to uphold and keep at any means.

... But what can you say? Nothing that won't give away his identity, or even your entire family's. You're left in a corner, with nowhere to go but forward. Right into the lion's den.

Taking his hand feels more like a sort of demonic deal with the devil than it probably should've. Still, his gloved fingers wrap around your own, carefully and practised, with all the warmth of a human and all the delicacy of an older brother.

He slips his helmet on as you settle behind him on the seat, tentatively holding him so you don't go flying back. "Hold on tight. You're not gonna fall, trust me."

You know you won't, and even if you do, you'll be fine. Still, when he revvs up the engine and drives off into the cool Gotham air, you feel a strange hardness of your limbs start to build.

The wind bites at your cheeks as he revvs his bike up. Your arms are wrapped snugly around his waist, leather feeling rough under your fingertips. Despite the physical need to hang onto him so you don't go tumbling off the seat, you find yourself wanting to put as much physical distance between you and Jason as possible.

Your head is awkwardly bent back so it isn't squished against his back, and you have a feeling he's a bit miffed about this fact. That you're still so unwilling to be beside him. But that's just your guess. You'll never know what he's thinking with that helmet blocking out each expression and his head facing straight to the road.

Even with this concentration, he still decides to speak. "Didn't know you were still friends with that guy. Harvey?"

"Harry," you correct him, though you aren't sure why.

"Yeah. Harry. That rich kid who gave up the exhilarating life of Gotham Prep to go to school with you." Jason's tone is light, and he doesn't seem to be too serious with his words. He's trying to make conversation, and it's strange, because you can tell he isn't really sure on how to do it. "I always thought he was good for you. He hasn't got a stick up his ass like the rest of those snobs at Bruce's galas."

"At least you approve of him," you say quietly. Barely even hearing yourself over the sound of the wind hitting your ears.

"That's more than you can say for a lot of those other brats you used to hang out with, you know." He almost sounds amused, despite how dead your tone was. "Hated all of them. These two ain't bad."

You wonder what those so-called brats were like. Other rich children all couped up together for the sole fact they're all born from wealth? Jason not liking them didn't really discern much about them to you, because you got the impression Jason didn't like many people.

You had the impression Jason didn't like you. But looking at your situation now, you couldn't be furthur from the truth, it seemed.

Silence fills the space between you both for a bit. Driving down the busy highways into darkening skies, as the clouds start to grey and the sun waves its last goodbye. When there no longer lay any witness but the moon itself, watching over the crime-riddled streets of Gotham, where you, somehow, were taken away from without a second thought.

Red fills the sky. Red, like Jason's helmet—not currently being worn, but an image you could never really remove from your head when you'd look at him.

Red, like your suit. Red, like the blood flowing through your veins. It colours the ground above you and will eventually turn into an array of violet hues. That's how it all concludes, in the end.

Jason takes a turn off the busy street and it goes quiet. He slows down a bit to match the speed limit—which feels strangely out of character for him, but you digress. He takes this opportunity to finally have his voice be heard above the onomatopoeia of cars and angry honks of the drivers within them.

"... This is nice. Never picked you up from school like this, huh?" Despite not being able to see him from where you sit behind his back—you can practically feel his smile. "We should do this more. How do you even get home usually, anyway? Alfred never goes around these parts."

... You debate on telling him or not, but assume it doesn't matter whether you do or not in the end. If he wants he know, he'll just find out. No use in delaying the inevitable. "I take the public bus."

If he could stop in the middle of driving, he would. Even if he was driving, without a car behind him, you're sure he'd brake abruptly and send you flying off the bike. His hand twitches around the handle and panic is sent flaring through your nerves like electricity. "What? You actually go on that shit?"

You know he probably didn't mean for it to sound the way it did, but you're annoyed nonetheless. "Well, not like I had much of a choice. Would you rather me walk the way?"

His lack of a response tells you all you need to know. You aren't keen on continuing this conversation, so for now, it's just silence.

Slipping off the motorcycle, you shake the wind out of your hair and brush down your clothes. Jason barely even looks at you as he places his helmet on the table beside the front door and slips the keys into his jacket pocket.

"Thanks for driving me." Despite your... complicated feelings towards him and the rest of your family, you are a polite person. Your aunt had always raised you right like this. "But you don't have to worry about doing something like this again... I'm fine taking the bus."

You say, with all the subtlety of a man dying of thirst. Practically yelling for him to just leave you the fuck alone. At least putting it in a mildly kind way.

He hums, expression unreadable to you. Then, he smiles. A stark change in his features from when you'd first gotten a glimpse of that contempt face. When you'd first saw him. "Don't be so humble, okay? I'll take you home every day from now on. Even if there's crime, I'll finish it up quick and we can ride home together. Just you, and me. With your big brother. That's fine, right?"

... You didn't realise when he had started moving closer to you while speaking, but now he was standing right in front of you, a hand on your shoulder and a dangerous glint in his eye (that, yoy aren't sure even registers to him at all).

Your brain buzzes with static sirens. Warning. Yelling for you to run away, move, fight him, do anything except stand there frozen like a deer in headlights. Fingers twitching with the urge to punch, claw get away—but you don't.

You grip the sides of your shirt, knuckles feeling weak under the pressure. No longer can you force the words you want to say out of your mouth. "... You don't have to bother. I'm serious."

He smiles. "Alright. I have some errands to run. Wasn't supposed to be here today, anyway." Changing his biker helm out for his signature red one, he pats your shoulder a few times before walking past you. "Goodnight, [name]. Don't stay up too late, yeah? Study for that test you got."

You can't even begin to question how he knows you have a test coming up when you're sure you'd never told him, when the thought pops up in your head that no, he absolutely did not listen to you. And yes, he absolutely will continue to keep waiting outside your school for you to drive you home with uncomfortable conversation.

You almost fall over in the hall's entrance when Jason shuts the front door behind him. You shove your face into your hands, squeezing your eyes shut and willing the memories of that drive into the back of your mind, where you wouldn't have to think about it.

But... he is right. You do have that test, and that simple fact is the reason why you pick yourself up, just as Spidey does, and decide to go to your room. Down the first living room, into the kitchen and dining room, and past—

"W—whoa!"

You're going to cry. You genuinely might start bawling. After that godawful moment, you've now crashed straight into a fucking brick wall. A moving one, at that. ... But it can't be just brick, because you think your nose is starting to bleed from the impact (if the warmth dripping down your chin is anything to go by), and you've slammed head first into concrete before with no reaction.

Just what the hell is—

"Shit!" A guy's voice curses. Unfamiliar, different from anything you'd heard here in this house before. When you crack open your eyelids, you see... Shaggy black hair, a very strange style of clothes, and the brightest blue of eyes you'd ever seen. "Shit, I'm so sorry! I should've looked where I was going—"

"Kon? What—"

Tim's face pops up from behind him just as you stand up on your own two feet, and the look on his face is something you can't even begin to describe. As soon as he gets an eyeful of you, and sees the trail of red seeping slowly from your nose down to your chin—where it drops down to the floorboards below—his entire demeanour shifts.

Subtly, but not subtle enough. At least, not to you. You don't think this Kon notices it.

"What happened here? What did you do to my sibling?"

Kon raises his hands in defence, eyes widening, "I'm so sorry, I didn't look where I was going, and—"

"Are you serious?!" Tim's brows furrow deeply and he almost growls like a damn dog as he sneers, "You hurt my sister, and all you can say is that you didn't look where you were going? Don't be stupid, Kon!"

"Look, I'm really sorry—it was an accident. Why are you getting so worked up—"

"You made her nose fucking bleed, dumbass! You know she's not like the rest of us! I told you to be careful around her, and look what you've done!"

Before Tim can tweak out even worse, you speak up, in the most monotone voice you can manage. "I'm okay. Don't worry. I'll just go clean it up."

The two boys look to you in shock, seeing a tissue already shoved up your nose and your face clean of any bloodstains. Void of anything except the drip of red on your shirt.

"But... But—" Tim's tone wavers a little as he steps closer, "What if it's broken? I'll help you—"

You hold your hand out, stopping him in his tracks as it collides with his chest. Shaking your head, you clench your jaw to try and alleviate the throbbing pain. "It's not broken. It's just injured. I'm okay."

The boy with piercings—Kon—he presses his fingers into his palm from his face behind Tim, looking rather guilty. "Sorry, um... Kon. I didn't look where I was going, either. That's my bad."

That name sounds strange to say in your mouth, and Kon himself seems surprised to hear you say it. "No, no, it was my bad. I'm so sorry, [name]."

His expression and words were genuine, enough so that your head starts to clear from its panic and you feel a sense of calmness finally wash over you.

But, your fingers still twitch when Tim gives you a forlorn look of almost longing.

You don't say another word, rushing past them snd going to your room—where you could bury your face into your pillow and pretend like none of this existed. Where you could climb out the window, suit clinging to your frame, and become the you that you'd always loved most.

The one who was free, swinging through the skies and cutting the wind like it meant nothing to you. The you that only ever felt like the real one.

And even if just for a moment, you could believe that this was your only you.

taglist: @hello-bina @cosmosluckycharms @1abi @yhin-gg @insideoutjulie @bluepanda08 @omnivirgo @vanessa-boo @dind1n @welpthisisboring @lunaetiicsaystuff @marsmabe @atanukileaf @findingjaxx @4mrplumi @bunniotomia @lostsomewhereinthegarden @bat1212 @gaychaosgremlin @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @randomlyappearingartist @cxcilla @spidermanluvr444 @cruzerforce4256 @mybones537 @xjesterxjacksx @nirvanaxx1942 @djpuppy-kittens @br33zy-blizzardz @moon0goddess @0sunnyside01 @mei-simp @redsakura101 @the-dumber-scaramouche @wizzerreblogs @lovemiss-vale @deathbynarcisstick @allycat4458 @wonmyheart @luckyangelballoon @one-piecelover @hartwyrm @horror-lover-69 @maria-trisha @4rachn3 @galaxypurplerose @duskeras @coffeeaddictxd @lithiumval @kaz-playz

taglist is open!

[cowboyemeritus]

I Will Make You My Angel (Papa V Perpetua/Reader)

“So, you feel like causing problems tonight,” he asks, which, in the language of your play, translates roughly to, “Ready to suffer?”

You just roll your eyes again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bring it.”

tags: brat taming, slapping, spanking, use of a belt, aftercare, daddy kink for a split second... dw about it

Read on AO3

Notes: this started out as a stream of consciousness post i made like a week ago... how did we get here

First, you didn’t give him a good morning kiss. Strike One.

Then, you didn’t hold his hand in the van to the arena. Strike Two.

Now, you’re ignoring him. He’s just wobbled his ass off in front of thousands of people, and you’re fucking ignoring him.

Strike Three. You’re out.

It’s late by the time the after party wraps. It’s even later when you arrive back at the hotel. Perpetua’s nerves are shot, worn thin by the long day and all the challenges it has presented. Logistical issues, technical difficulties, misbehaving ghouls; the silent treatment is the very last thing he needs. He would have liked to have had you on his arm tonight, to show you off to the sleazy music execs that had come to kiss his ass, but you’d chosen to be selfish, setting yourself down in a corner and scrolling on your phone for hours, hardly paying him any mind.

Your Twitter feed better have been interesting.

He flops down on the bed, a groan wrenching itself out of him as the tension in his body is finally allowed an escape route. You don’t acknowledge him, checking your phone again before setting it down on the nightstand and shuffling over to the closet. With your back to him, you start undressing for bed, and his blood boils just a little hotter. If you won’t engage with him, he should at least be allowed to ogle you a bit.

He should also rest, prepare himself for the next ritual, but the itch has taken hold of him and won’t let go. His skin crawls, thinking about everything that’s gone wrong today and everything that will go wrong tomorrow. This new life of his, it’s more than he ever could have dreamed of, but it’s just so much, all the fucking time. And he doesn’t ask for a lot, just that you show up, be present, give him a little support when he needs it. You’re normally so, so good for him. He doesn’t understand why-

Every racing thought in his head comes screeching to a halt when you unzip your dress, a sexy leather thing that hugs your curves just right, and pull it down. Perpetua watches carefully, pulse quickening, as the action exposes the purple silk and black lace beneath. The set is new and, as he suspected, it fits perfectly, the bustier giving your tits the perfect amount of lift while the garters and stockings make you look like something out of a 50s centerfold. It’s old-fashioned refinement; the good shit. His cock throbs at the sight, and for a fleeting moment he’s able to take pride in his excellent taste. He knows what suits you, often better than you do. Then, that feeling is replaced by seething rage.

You have the gall, the audacity, to wear his colors after how you’ve acted today?

“What is that?” He asks, heartbeat thrumming in his ears. At long last, you notice him, turning your head in his direction.

“Um, my underwear?” There is disinterest, even a little judgement, in your gaze, like he’s some old pervert creeping on you at a bar. Anger pangs in his stomach, like hunger.

“Yeah,” Perpetua says, trying to sound casual. “Looks good on you.” No response. “I wonder where you could have come across such a thing.” At this, you give an exaggerated roll of your eyes.

“I found it,” you state, the words barbed with sarcasm. His jaw tightens.

“How?” You blink at him, confused.

“What do you mean, how? I just-”

“Found it,” he questions, “with your eyes glued to your fucking phone all day?” Now you turn your body towards him, revealing more of the getup. Perpetua wants nothing more than tear it off and have you now, but there’s something to be said about taking his time, about making you really earn the punishment he so desperately needs to dole out.

“What are you, my dad?” You scoff, turning your attention back to your dress, putting it on a hanger and racking it next to a neat row of his shirts. “I don’t know why you’re being such a dick. The show didn’t go that bad.”

Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s up, stomping over to where you’re standing. He grips you hard by the shoulder, spinning you face him.

“So, you feel like causing problems tonight,” he asks, which, in the language of your play, translates roughly to, “Ready to suffer?”

You just roll your eyes again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bring it.”

In an instant, his gloved palm is connecting with your cheek. It’s hard, but not enough to leave a mark. Still, your head jerks violently to the side as he completes the stroke, the clap echoing off the walls. A heavy silence falls over the room, and it’s only then that he considers what this might sound like to a concerned neighbor. He doesn’t have time to dwell on that, though. You hang your head for a beat, take a few, steadying breaths, and then look back up at him. Your pupils are blown wide, and the way you’re pressing your lips together tells him you’re fighting back a grin.

This, of course, had been your plan all along: to get him riled up and then let him blow off the steam. You’re far too smart for your own good. You know him too well, can read his moods too easily, and like a little pixie, you use this talent to make mischief when he most desperately needs a distraction.

“That fucking hurt.”

He’d be lost without you.

“It did?” Still in a vice grip, he marches you across the room, throwing you down on the mattress. Delight curls in his gut at the sound you make, the breath knocked out of your lungs. “On your knees. I’ll show you hurt.” You remain motionless, glaring back at him. “Come on.” He grabs you by the hips, manhandling you into the desired position. His mouth waters as he takes in the sight of you, decked out in his colors, your ass in the air like it’s a prize and your face in the sheets to shut you up. “It’s late. You think I want to be doing this at two in the fucking morning?” You shake your head sheepishly. “Yeah, of course not. But if I don’t deal with you, who will?” He peels off his gloves and then reaches for his belt buckle, noting how your thighs press together. “Who will do a fucking thing if I’m not around?”

You smirk. “Heavy is the head that wears the mitre, huh?” As he’s pulling the band of leather through the loops, you let out a little laugh. “You know, you could always switch with Copia if you don’t think you can handle-”

The belt cracks against the back of your thigh. You jolt, crying out, and it’s as much an exclamation of pain as it is a moan. Perpetua looks between his hand, knuckles blanched around the leather, and where he’s just struck you. The skin is already welting up in a fat, pink streak, a few tiny, red dots blooming over broken capillaries. It’s such a captivating image that, for a split second, he forgets he’s supposed to be angry. Then you shift uncomfortably, giving him an expectant look, and he has to fight to come back to himself.

“Don’t-” He so badly wants to kiss that bruising flesh, to soothe the wound with his tongue. It takes a long, deep breath to steel him. “Dirty your mouth with his name again, and I’ll make you wash it out with soap.” He teases the folded end of the belt up your other thigh, brushing over your core, and you shiver. Princes of Hell, you’re already soaked through. “Got that, follettina?”

“Yes, Papa.” Perpetua scoffs.

“Now you feel like showing me some respect.” He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and encountering the warm metal of the mask. With his free hand, Perpetua reaches for the clasp at the top of his head, then, seeing you watching, decides against it. He glowers at you as his hand instead finds his scarf, pulling it loose, before undoing the top few buttons of his shirt. Beneath the layers of fabric, his skin is overly warm, bordering on sweaty.

“We go until I say we’re done,” he states, bringing the belt back to your buttocks. “You can still keep count if you’d like.” At this, you swallow hard, shuddering, and it fills him with a perverse sense of pleasure, heat flaring at the very base of him. He knows you’re just the tiniest bit afraid; in moments like this, it’s hard not to be, even when there’s desire in it. What he loves about you, though, is that you trust him, letting him guide you through the fear to the pleasure at its conclusion. That you’re willing to put your body and safety in his hands is an intoxicating feeling, and swept up in it, Perpetua finds that he’s done holding back.

He brings the belt down on your ass. You bury your face in the mattress to stifle a moan. He does it again, and this time it’s a scream. He strikes you one more time before the itch takes over and he no longer cares to keep track. Then, its blow after blow, the sound ricocheting off the walls like gunfire. His treatment is imprecise, uneven, striking wherever meets his fancy, until your ass and the backs of your thighs are red and criss-crossed with welts. You take each hit like a champion, hardly moving save for the arching of your back and an occasional buck of your hips.

He’s listening closely for it the whole time: miserere, the hard stop. You’ve never tapped out before, but maybe this is it. Maybe this time he’ll overdo it. The worry is always there, lingering in the back of his mind despite your assurances. But you’re resilient, far more so than he, and even when your yelps and moans turn to sobs, you don’t bend. You never do. You take it all, his rage, his pain, and you swallow it. You transform it into focus, productivity. Even now, his head already feels clearer.

You’re a martyr. Perpetua ought to have you canonized.

“That’s enough.” His chest is heaving, sweat beading under the mask. He’s so hard it hurts, every nerve alight with pleasure. It feels like he’s vibrating. It’s exhilarating.

You flop onto your side with a groan. You’re panting, sniffling, twitching a little, but there’s a blissed out look on your face, a grin spread wide across it. Tears stream down your cheeks, taking your makeup with them.

“Papa…” It’s all you can manage before breaking out into a fit of laughter. Oh, he’s gotten you good. You reach blindly for him, and in spite of the scene his heart skips a beat.

“I’m right here,” he coos, taking your hand and planting a gentle kiss on your knuckles. It flops back down when he lets go. Shakily, you bring the appendage closer to your face, cracking an eye open to examine it. There’s a smear of his black lipstick on your skin, and with a pleased little hum, you press your lips to the mark.

If he had a soul, surely it would leave his body.

“Oh, my love, look at you.” You’re utterly ruined. Unable to resist, he palms at himself through his pants. This does not go unnoticed, and you let out a needy whine. Perpetua snickers. “Yeah? You’re not done yet? You need me to fuck you, too?” A hungry look in your eyes, you nod. At this, he clicks his tongue, though he’s already reaching to undo the laces restraining him. “After all you’ve done today, you think you deserve that?” Your eyes go wide, then well up with fresh tears, and he feels his cock kick as he works to free it.

“Please,” you whimper, suddenly coherent again. “I’ll be so good tomorrow.”

Perpetua imagines you’ll spend most of the day recouping on the bus. There’s not much trouble you can really get into there, unless you rope the ghouls into your schemes. Lucifer save him if you do.

He lets out an embellished sigh. “How is it that you can be such a little shit, and yet I still let you walk all over me?” At last his cock springs free, flushed an angry red and pulsing with the beating of his heart. “You’re spoiled.” He gives himself a few slow, teasing strokes, making a show of pulling back the skin to reveal the head, already slick with precum. “Absolutely rotten.”

The despair on your face quickly transforms into a smug, satisfied grin. You giggle, batting your eyes coquettishly. “I know.” Perpetua just grunts, planting his free hand on your hip and shoving you onto your stomach. He makes quick work of unclipping the garters, then hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties and tugs them down. You shimmy a little, assisting him in the endeavor. Letting go of his cock, he drapes himself over your prone form, planting his knees on either side of your body, and you hiss a little as the coarse fabric of his pants rubs against your skin. One hand threads into your hair, pulling your head up off the mattress, while he holds the other to your lips.

“Spit,” he commands. “It’s all you’re getting.” With perfect obedience, you probe around in your cheek with your tongue, gathering as much saliva as possible, before letting it dribble out into his palm. Perpetua takes his shaft in hand again, slicking himself up with a few lazy strokes, then adjusts his position so that he can drag the tip through your folds.

“Baby,” you whine. You try to spread your legs enticingly, but you’re trapped under the weight of him, pinned to the bed like a butterfly. “Plea-” Perpetua cuts you off, burying himself to the hilt with a single, punishing drive of his hips. The sound that comes out of you cannot possibly be human, halfway between a moan and the yowl of a cat in heat. Still, he gives you no quarter, no time to adjust, before he begins jackhammering into you, chasing his pleasure with reckless abandon.

“I’ll fuck you, alright.” He tugs on your hair and groans, feeling your cunt ripple. Somehow, even after all this time, he’s still never quite prepared for the way you two fit so perfectly, like puzzle pieces clicking together. “But don’t think for a second that I’m letting you finish like this.” You let out a delicious sob, your entire body convulsing beneath him. Even through his clothes, he can feel the heat radiating from your mortified flesh, and the mental image of what your backside will look like in the morning is like a punch in the stomach. Pace faltering, he comes to the jarring realization that he’s not going to last very long. You must be able to sense it as well, because you press your ass into him with each thrust, trying to meet him halfway.

“God, you fucking-” He groans, gut twisting as you clench around him. “You little fucking whore, always causing problems.” The day’s events rearing their ugly head again, Perpetua feels his temper flare. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he takes a deep breath, the sweet scent of your hair grounding him. “I missed you tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” you pant. “I’m so-” A particularly brutal thrust has the head of his cock punching into your cervix. You gasp beneath him, fists balling in the sheets.

“You should always be by my side. Always.” There’s never a moment when he doesn’t want you near. It’s maddening at times, how badly he craves you. “You looked so fucking good tonight. I wanted to take you right there, in front of all those fucking imbeciles, but you kept yourself from me.” He’s rambling, as he tends to do when his end is closing in. “How dare you. How fucking dare-” Suddenly, he’s tumbling over the edge. Hips jerking, his vision goes white, the ecstasy searing down his spine as he spills into you. It’s like every negative feeling he’s had over the last twenty-four hours is purged at once, leaving blissful nothingness in its wake.

He really, really needed this.

When the world comes back into view, Perpetua heaves a sigh. The fatigue in his bones is making its presence known again, a heaviness washing over him as the last traces of his climax ebb away. Feeling wobbly, he disengages carefully, rolling onto his back so that he doesn’t collapse on top of you. He lays like that for a moment, eyes shut, hands folded over his stomach. Fuck, what a night. What a day. What a week. What a life. He knows he needs to get up, drag himself to the bathroom and get the ointment for your ass. He needs to wash off his paints and the sweat that’s accumulated under the mask before he breaks out, but he’s so fucking exhausted, and sleep is already wrapping it’s velvety tendrils around his consciousness, pulling him down, down, down…

Your lips ghost against his hairline, and then the tip of his nose. Perpetua cracks his green eye open and finds you hovering over him, smiling gently as you brush a few locks of his hair away. He’s just beaten your backside black and blue, but there’s nothing in your gaze but adoration. Your eyes are still puffy from crying, your makeup smudged and running down your face, and he swears you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“Feel better?”

What you’re still doing with a nasty, selfish old thing like him, he’ll never know. In the beat silence that hangs between you, he thanks the Old One, any power that feels like listening, that you’re here.

“I do,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow to press his lips to yours. It’s the first time he’s properly kissed you all day and it hits him like a drug, a newfound energy coursing through his veins. “Thank you.” You chuckle softly, leaning in for another kiss. Your hands find the clasps at his temples, and under your experienced fingers they click open easily. When you pull the mask away, placing it gently to the side, it’s like a weight has been lifted off Perpetua’s shoulders. With you, he doesn’t have to perform, to be Papa. Himself is enough.

“Of course.” Another quick peck on his cheek. “Now, let’s get you to bed.” You start to get up but he quickly stops you, one hand finding the back of your head and pulling you in again. He nips at your bottom lip once, twice, before he’s licking into your mouth with a pleased little hum. You groan, squirming next to him on the bed, and when he ultimately pulls away, there’s a thread of saliva connecting you.

“Not just yet,” he purrs. You swallow, eyes darting over to the clock on the nightstand, then back to him.

“It’s late, babe. You don’t have to-”

“What kind of man would I be if I left you needing like this?” He barks out a laugh. “If the Clergy found out, I’d be excommunicated.” Perpetua sits up, putting a hand on your shoulder and guiding you to lay on your back. Then he slinks down to the ground, kneeling on the carpet as he grabs your hips and pulls you a little closer. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Satan below, your cunt is a sight to behold, all slick and pink and throbbing just for him. His arousal echoes distantly at the sight, and for a moment, he laments the limitations that come with his age. A rivulet of his spend is already leaking out you, and the animal part of his brain screams that this is unacceptable. If he were a younger man, he could easily fuck another load into you, but those days are long gone. Time has given him experience, though, and he has other ways of keeping you full.

With his hands on your knees, he parts your legs a bit wider. Finally, he touches the tip of his tongue to your clit, giving it an experimental, little kitten lick. Your entire body tenses, like you’ve been shocked, and it sends a thrill through him.

“Oh! That’s…” He doesn’t give you time to finish the thought, sealing his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucking. Your hands fly to his head, fingers twisting in his hair as your hips buck up into his mouth. “Fuck, that’s good. Fuck, baby.” He doesn’t need the encouragement; the taste of you — both of you —  has him hooked already. Perpetua draws a few circles around your clit before he descends, prodding at your opening to coax out more of his seed. With his tongue he scoops up the mess, and when his eyes flick up, he finds you fixated on him, your lower lip caught between your teeth. Grinning, he opens his mouth, letting you see the evidence of his climax, and you shudder. Then, he works the appendage inside you, fucking his cum back where it belongs. The tip of his nose bumps against your clit while he does this, and the noise you make will surely result in a complaint, but he couldn’t care less. Anyone who takes issue with this can eat shit and die.

Eventually, he replaces his tongue with a finger. Your body accepts it greedily, pulling him in like you’re trying to become one mass, and so he gives you another. He crooks the digits just right, delighting in the way you sing for him, heady and full of want. You’re fluttering already, the cocktail of pain and pleasure helping you along nicely. A lock of his hair falls into his face, and before he has the chance, you brush it away for him. Perpetua’s heart swells. It’s a simple gesture, but the gentleness of your touch stands in such stark contrast to the earlier violence, it makes his head spin.

“You perfect thing, taking it so well. You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?” You hum an affirmative that quickly turns into a moan. He plants a sloppy kiss on the inside of your leg, leaving a smear of cum, spit, and paint behind. “My darling girl. Sei la cocca di papà, vero? Say that you are.” For all the needless bullshit the Clergy has put him through, he will be forever grateful to them for making him learn Italian. It’s become his secret weapon, a surefire way to have your toes curling in a matter of syllables. As expected, your back arches off the bed, thighs squeezing around him.

“I’m yours,” you gasp. “I’m your girl.” He rewards you by attaching his mouth to your clit once again, suckling and teasing it with his tongue while he attacks your sweet spot with his fingers. Your manicured nails dig into his scalp a little harder, battered legs quivering. “Oh, fuck. Fuck me, fuck-” With a breathy cry you come undone, thrashing wildly against Perpetua’s face. He works you through it, unrelenting until you tug on his hair, whining. One last kiss on the softest part of your thigh and he pulls away, his knees protesting as he gets up off the floor. Your chest is heaving, beads of sweat sparkling on your flushed skin, and Perpetua suddenly wants to take back his earlier declaration. The sight of you like this, a beautiful, fucked-out mess, should be for his eyes alone. Not even the Devil, he thinks, is worthy of such a privilege.

Your tired eyes flutter open once your breathing finally evens out. Catching his gaze, you smile, eclipsing the sun in your radiance. You start to sit up, but Perpetua is quick to push you back down.

“Stay here,” he requests. “I’ll be right back.” You nod, flipping onto your stomach while he tucks himself back into his pants. Then, he shuffles to the bathroom and gathers the necessary equipment: a wet washcloth, a glass of water, your makeup wipes, and the healing ointment. When he returns you’re naked and half asleep already, the rest of your undergarments strewn about on the bed. The bruising on your backside is beginning to set in, decorating your flesh with splotches of deep blue and purple. He stares at it for a few moments, face pulled into a grimace. Maybe he did take it too far.

“‘M just fine,” you mumble, reading his mind. “Really.” Snapping out of it, he makes tending to you the focus of his remaining energy, lest he spiral further. He hands you the glass and you accept eagerly, draining it in one long, slow sip. Then you take the wipes, attacking what remains of your makeup while he gets to work on your lower half. With the washcloth he cleans the mess of his release, paints, and your slick from the inside of your thighs. He’s overly careful, as if you’re made of glass, reluctant to inflict any more pain now that the scene is over. When that’s done he takes the tube of ointment and squeezes a generous amount onto the tip of his index finger, the herbal scent of it filling the air. You start a little with the first touch, but quickly relax as we works the balm into your skin, sighing with relief as it takes effect.

By the time Perpetua is finished, you’re asleep. He’s about ready to collapse next to you but forces himself up, dragging his feet back to the bathroom. He does a half-assed job of removing his paints, his eyes still rimmed with black as he strips off the rest of his clothes. Both of you (him especially) reek of sweat and sex, but a shower can wait until the morning. You have to hit the road early, but he’ll be a diva and make the whole crew wait if he has to. He has his priorities.

You grumble a little when he moves you to the head of the bed and tucks you under the covers, but otherwise don’t stir. After hanging up his shirt and jacket he flicks off the light, stumbling in the dark to join you. He’s finally able to indulge in the closeness he’s wanted all day, pulling you into his arms. The weight of you on his chest is a comfort after the long day you’ve both had, and soon, he’s slipping into the realm of sleep as well.

Without a doubt, tomorrow will have its own set of challenges, new problems for him to deal with. For now, though, he’s content, knowing that whatever comes his way, you’ll have his back. You always do.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

All this talk about Leona's / Vil's chest makes me think of ... This. I just got the art book for my bday, went to check Leona's section and got hit with THIS... In front of my mom too 😭😭 (she didn't read it but. HELP)

6 UNDONE BUTTONS BUT MAKE SURE TO AVOID SHOWING TOO MUCH SKIN 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 they really put a bunch of buttons on it just for him to have them open but not show "too much", huh...

W-what the hell. Sure. W-whatever.

[Referencing this post!]

Average L*ona reaction to someone pointing out his loose and/or lack of buttons (taken straight out of his School Uniform vignette):

Ah, yes... That infamous note from the art book 😭 (<- has known about it for years and chose not to make a public comment unless prompted)

OKAY, but to be fair (*grips Riddle by the head like he’s a melon I am testing for ripeness*) take a look at a character that wears the Ceremonial Robes properly:

The black undershirt has a somewhat high collar. Additionally, the buttons seem to be spaced very close together. The white dress shirt for the NRC school uniform has more standard height collar and its buttons are noticeably farther apart than those of the ceremonial robes.

This means you would have to unbutton MORE buttons on the ceremonial robes in order to show the same amount of skin as in your school uniform. For example, what is 6 buttons on the ceremonial robes is only 2-3 buttons on the NRC school uniform. Like so:

My guess as to why that note in the art book exists is because they wanted to call attention to the spacing of the buttons being closer, meaning that 6 buttons being undone would still roughly have the same amount of skin showing had it been 2-3 buttons on the school uniform. They probably didn't want whatever artists were working on the Leona Ceremonial Robes initial artwork to get confused and accidentally show more skin due to the button count. (6 buttons undone on a regular shirt would show much more skin!)

While I was researching this I SWEAR TO YOU THIS WAS NOT AN EXCUSE TO STARE AT KINGSCHOLAR'S CHEST FOR LONGER THAN IS SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE, I realized that there's an inconsistency in Leona's Ceremonial Robes initial art and his live 2D model?? (This shouldn't be a shock though, considering that there's plenty of details in the card art that don’t always carry over to the live 2D models.)

If you look at Leona’s live 2D, the robes collar is clearly undone (you can see the flaps open). That's... clearly not 6 buttons undone. You can't even see any visible cleavage in the model:

But then???? If you take a look at the card art??? THERE'S VERY OBVIOUSLY WAY MORE BUTTONS UNDONE??? YOU CAN TELL BECAUSE SUDDENLY THERE'S CLEAVAGE OUT AND ABOUT AND WHAT WAS ONCE ONLY JUST THE FLAPS OF THE COLLARS IS NOW SHAMELESSLY OPEN 💀

And when you compare this to other instances in which Leona appears in his ceremonial robes (such as the second anniversary PV and the Twst anime trailer), HE HAS THE COLLAR COMPLETELY OPEN AND CLEAVAGE SHOWING. This leads me to believe that the initial card artwork is the INTENDED depiction, not the live 2D model.

You know what that means, fellas??? IT MEANS BIBLICALLY INACCURATE LION BOOBS FOR THE LIVE 2D MODEL...

ANYWAY. THAT IS ALL I HAVE TO SAY ON THIS MATTER, GOOD-BYE NOW 🤡

[alexiapp]

Next Step With You

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You and Alexia finally have the talk about Kids…

Note: I’ve been gone for so fucking long because of how insanely busy i’ve been but, i’m totally hoping on posting constantly and not keeping empty promises 😭..i’ve had an insane amount of writers block also so keep that in mind!! This isn’t my best work but it’ll have to do !

You never thought that you would be in love. You thought you were unlovable or maybe incapable of finding your ‘true one’. You presumed that maybe it was your strong personality or your high standards that caused these problems. You always had trouble with relationships, and had a couple horror stories when it came to your past love life. You always that you were the problem, until you met Alexia. She made you feel something that you never thought you would be able to experience. You felt giddy inside, and content. There wasn’t a dull moment between her and I.

Alexia was charming, and very charismatic and she also has a strong personality which drew you into her. Recently you guys have been entering a new chapter of your relationship. This year would be marking the 4th year you have been together. You couldn’t see your life without Alexia, it just wouldn’t feel right. You wanted to bring new milestones to you guys relationship. Everything you envision had Alexia in it.

You wanted to add an addition to you guys relationship badly..You wanted to build a family between the two of you. You only started feeling this way until you saw how attentive Alexia was towards kids, it always made you wonder how she’d be if you guys had kids. You knew deep down in your heart that Alexia would be an amazing mother, but you didn’t know if Alexia wanted to take that next step with you or if she was even ready. It’s something you’ve been hesitant to bring up, these loud thoughts always stayed in the back of your mind. You don’t wanna scare her away..imagine how crazy you’d looked if she didn’t feel the same way..i mean what if she thought you were a total nut case. This steered you away from Alexia, making you kind of cold and distance.

This situation made you second guess a lot of things. You took an immature approach, usually the average person would talk it out with there significant other in an healthy manner, but you being you, were quite stubborn and decided to isolate yourself. You started declining her offers to go out when she put the idea out there. You guys once long text messages turned into short and brief on your end no matter how hard the poor woman tried to carry the conversation.

You assumed Alexia didn’t notice how cold you’ve been ..Oh boy were you wrong. She was was in deep stress her mind was constantly racing wondering what she could’ve possibly done wrong. Trying to remember moments where she could’ve possibly said the wrong thing that might’ve hurt or offended you in any way. She was determined to get to the bottom of this and handle it quickly, she genuinely couldn’t take not having you around any longer.

After settling down and drowning in her thoughts she decided the only way to get your attention is by catching you at in unexpected moment. She decided she’d venture to your apartment without giving you any head’s up. She didn’t want you to find another excuse to brush her off and ignore her, she wanted to talk to you and get you back. She was determined and ready to do whatever it takes.

The determined blonde quickly grabbed her phone and car keys headed straight for your flat ready to corner you.

You were brought out of a day dream when you heard a knock on your apartment door. You got up and walked over to your door with confusion written all over your face. You weren’t expecting a visitor or any packages. Shock washed over you when you were met with a very agitated and worried blonde. The last person you wanted to see.

Your once confused face was replaced with a very shocked expression.

“Um..hi?” you muttered out in surprise at what you were faced with.

“Why have you been ignoring me” Said the hazel eyed woman as she pushed through into your apartment door.

“i..i haven’t been, i’ve just been very busy i-“ you said as you staggered your words.

“Don’t like to me, you know how much i hate when people lie” the blonde woman said cutting you off in your lousy excuse as to why you haven’t been very present in you guys relationship.

“You’ve been brushing me off, you’ve been texting me less and less. I want to know what i did wrong so i could fix it”. She said with fury in her voice.

“There’s nothing you can do, to stop me from me feeling how i feel right now Alexia” You said nervously.

“Then what is it! I need to know what it is so we can fix it. I want us to fix this” she said waving her hand between you and her.

“I feel like if i tell you what it is, our relationship would be over” you said with a meek expression.

“amor whatever it is we can try and get past it, i just have to know” she said gently as she walked towards you grabbing your hands as a form of comfort. She could tell you were nervous about what you wanted to say next.

“There’s things that i want to do in our relationship that you might not be ready for Alexia, and i don’t want that to jeopardize what we have.” You said conflicted on weather you should open up to her or not

“Hey, no matter what is bothering you, we can fix it and hopefully move past it..i promise” she said as she rubbed her thumb across my hand.

“I want us to have kids..i want to have kids with you, and i didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to scare you off i didn’t want you to think i’m so crazy person. I see myself starting a family with you..” You said with fear in your voice. You were almost quivering with fear on how she would react. You were shut down when you heard the woman in front of you hysterically laugh.

Oh no…she thought you were a joke, she must think you’re a loser..you told yourself, emotions bathing in a pool insecurity. You broke your hand away from her turning away in rejection. “ I knew this would happen, i just knew you wouldn’t take me seriously” you said with hurt and regret in your voice.

You turned your body away from her not wanting her to see how hurt you truly were.

“I’m sorry, come here” she said trying to make you turn towards her.

“i’m not laughing at you about what you said, i’m laughing because why wouldn’t you think i want that also?” she said chuckling lightly. She placed her fairly large hands on her face cupping your cheeks softly and said “why would i want to do that. There isn’t anyone i wouldn’t rather start a family with” she said shaking her head at your ridiculousness.

“I just thought that maybe you’d think that we’re moving to fast, i was just scared” you said looking into her hazel eyes.

“vale, firstly their isn’t anyway i could see life without you..let alone my future with you not being in it, if you told me how you felt ahead of time this wouldn’t be our outcome” she said has she brushed her thumb against your cheekbone

“Amor, you have to communicate with me when you’re feeling this vale ?” she said shaking her head to try to get me to understand. Which i nodded in response.

I leaned in and pecked the blonde’s lips, you were suddenly thrown over her shoulder, making you giggle in surprise “Let’s practice making that baby sí!” as she carried you to your apartment bedroom.

I’ll grammar check later !!

[zhampip]

How do they find out that the doctor had ARS? And how severe of a case does he have?

i wrote about this in my "story notes" so i'll just post those! Direct aftermath of the eclipse canon explosion.

Shadow rescues Robotnik, they hole up in an unoccupied house for the time being. Shadow is completely and utterly lost without any goal or anything to work towards, and Robotnik just wants to find Stone. So Shadow takes the goal of finding the only other person who was nice to him very seriously.

After the Eclipse Canon explosion Stone is so shell shocked he wanders London for a considerable amount of time. He cannot return to the crab cos GUN are swarming it, so he gets a cheap hotel and mourns in private for several weeks, never leaving the building.

Ofc this makes finding Stone DIFFICULT, and after a week of fruitless search Robotnik begins feeling the first symptoms of ARS (headache, dizziness), and another week with no luck goes by and he’s rapidly gone downhill and Shadow is STRESSED

Now Robotnik is housebound, barely conscious half the time, moving is agony, vomiting, feels like shiiiiiit, is basically at death’s door again if he doesn’t get help soon. And Shadow is stressed, he’s confused, scared and angry but he has this one mission to FIND STONE and he’s gonna damn well do that.

[SCENE MISSING] Shadow somehow finds Stone, brings him back to Robotnik who’s an absolute mess but Stone is so unbelievably relieved and everything eventually turns out okay somehow I didn’t think about this part lol the owners of the unoccupied house come back and are like who took all of our clothes and ate our food

[compact-turtle]

I'll listen to you next time. Okay? ~

Concept: Yandere Space Explorer x Gn Reader: Spicy Edition

Summary: Orion ignores your pleas to stay home and decides to follow you into the jungle.

TW: NS//FW, finger/ing, dub-con?, biting, general yandere stuff, riding, just being horny yk

Word count: 1.4k

Note: I'm like a thousand followers late but here's the first part of the thousand (now 2 thousand?!?!) follower celebration I promised!! I plan on breaking it up into 3 different posts for each character. First will be Orion, then Ivar and Atticus last!

Entry Date XX-XX-XXX Y/n has begun hoarding large amounts of food lately. No preference for food in the pile with the exception of Aishi flowers. Behavior lately has been erratic. Body language suggests uneasiness and anxiety. They’ve instructed me to stay in the hut for a few days while they leave on a journey. They brought all the Aishi flowers with them along with half the food pile. In order to understand their behavior, I am choosing to ignore their request and will follow them. I have- 

"Oh fuck” Orion whispered as he finally noticed how lifeless the jungle had suddenly become. 

He was utterly absorbed in finishing his journal entry, neglecting to watch his surroundings despite your repeated warnings. Orion couldn't determine how long the forest had been silent. 

He quietly packed up his items, his heart pounding and his breath quickening.

It's fine. You were pretty close. You were just a few hundred feet inside a nearby cave that he'd tracked you down to. 

 Keep calm. Orion reminded himself multiple times as his feet picked up the pace. His eyes caught a glimpse of something purple stalking him. 

No more calm. 

Orion booked it. He clutched his satchel tightly while weaving through the jungle. Roots nearly tripped him. The jungle began to blur into a confusing tapestry of blue, green, and every other color. 

Suddenly, he was pinned to the ground. Its sharp teeth flashed, and a disgusting smell wafted into his nose. 

"GET OFF ME" Orion yelled as he attempted to kick the beast off him. 

The kick did very little to harm it. At most, he probably annoyed the creature. The beast growled and opened its mouth wider. 

Something pushed the giant beast off him just as it was about to take a bite. The beast staggered back in shock. A large howl escaped the beast.

You jumped on top of it with a blade in your head. You quickly shoved your blade into the side of the beast. Cries of pain echoed from it as he watched you take the knife out of its neck. It shook you off its back, and you fell onto the ground. Quickly, it ran into the jungle. 

"WHY YOU HERE? SUPPOSED TO STAY HOME!" You screamed at him. Your body was sluggish as it dragged itself off the ground.

"I wanted to make sure you were doing okay! You've been acting so weird lately and-." 

"Go home. Now." 

Without looking back, you slowly walked into a nearby cave. Orion tip-toed behind you into the cave, trying not to upset you any further. A makeshift leaf curtain door covered the entrance. The cave was small and had a dead end. A pile of aishi flowers was littered around with a musk smell.

You immediately collapsed onto the flower when you walked in. Your body giving up as it pushed itself past the limit. Orion rushed over to you. At first, he assumed you were injured in the fight with the predator.

His eyes darted in surprise when he realized you were bare. He pulled you into his arms with your back facing him. Sweat dripped down your forehead as you buried yourself in his arms. It took Orion a few seconds to understand what was wrong with you. A small smile snaked itself way onto his lips. 

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. I didn't know it was your heat and mating season! You should've said something to me. I would've helped you. "Orion said sweetly as he traced his finger down your back. You gave a soft mew and shuddered underneath his touch. 

"Nooo. Give me flowers. I eat." You cried, trying to fight him. "I need it!"

Orion reached over and gently fed you a flower. Your body began to cool down, and your mews died down. The sensitivity is fading away. A look of soberness slowly leaked into your eyes. 

Hm. No wonder you were collecting these so much. They were meant to suppress your heat. Still, you didn't need the flowers now that he was here to assist you. He snatched the flower from your hand. You whined as he took it away. 

Orion resumed teasing your body. His finger stopped at the base of your tail. He wrapped his fingers around it, following its length until the tip. He marveled at the flexibility of your tail as it wrapped around his arm in pleasure. The fur underneath his skin was soft like the blankets in your room. 

 When his fingers reached the end, he circled them around it and toyed with it. Tiny trembles reverberated through your body. You began to pant more. Drool slipped over the side of your mouth, and a flushed color began to paint your skin.

"Does it feel good? Am I a good boy helping you?" 

"Nooooo. Stop. No touch," You babble incoherently. 

"Hm? It doesn't feel good here. I'm so sorry. Let me try somewhere else." Orion apologized teasingly while he nibbled on your ear.  

His finger began to trail down lower from your tail. Gently, he pried your legs apart. He slowly slipped his finger inside you. You writhed when Orion pushed it in. Your tail curled up, and your eyes glazed over in pleasure. 

Your hole was wet as it ached for him. It wrapped around his finger as he pushed in and out of it. Wet slick coating the entire finger. The sensation of your hole was exhilarating with the pressure around it as he added another finger. As his fingers curved inside you, the feeling intensified around him. He shivered in bliss as your back arched, trying to make the fingers go in deeper. 

Your voice echoed through the cave. He listened as you mewed out small chirps and cries. He adjusted your head and began to suck on your tongue. Greedily, he relished the taste of your mouth. The taste of your mouth was so sweet, like honey. It brought him pure bliss, and he was almost ready to explode. 

His cock ached and was sore inside his pants. He began to grind on your back, desperate for release. He lapped at your tounge and it felt like he'd drank ambrosia from the gods. Every drop dripped from his mouth straight into his very essence. He couldn't take it anymore as he rubbed himself into your back.

Suddenly, you ripped your lips off of him. A throbbed headache resounded as you pushed him on the floor. His fingers leave your tight hole. 

He watched you get on top of him. You sat on top of him, and your tail pinned his hands to the ground. You tore off his pants. His cock managed to spring free. He moaned as you tried to sit down on him. Your body desperately tries to take his entire length. You shifted and shuffled in various directions, trying to make it fit. 

Finally, your walls managed to take him in. You slicked up his dick with your nectar and pushed it inside yourself deeper. He groaned at how tight you were inside. It almost felt suffocating. Still, he adored the way you devoured him, and was still ravenous for more.

"Can I finish inside you? Please, please, please, let me," Orion begged as you moved your hips, "You feel too good. I'll do whatever you want. Just let me finish in you." 

"No. Ri, not listen to me. Bad boy today." You said through gasps.

You leaned down and bit his neck as punishment for even asking that. Something in him broke. He knew it was too soon. You just put it inside, and he wanted to fill you up. 

He tried to listen and hold back. However, the image of you full of him pushed him over the edge. Your belly filled with him to the brim. Your sweet slick mixed with his salty seed. Your delicate skin is stained with his dirty white liquid. Afterward, you'd lift yourself up and spill the extra fluid your hole couldn't contain. 

A slight whine escaped your lips as Orion made his fantasy a reality. He painted your walls white and moaned as you took it all in. He couldn't help it. Listening to you call him a bad boy while riding him was too much. 

"I'm sorry for not listening to you today. Let's do it again, and I'll listen to you this time. Okay?" 

[mattslilies]

Coffee and Cookies - M.S.

"you always order that coffee but you never drink any of it." or... the one where matt keeps buying coffee he doesn't like just to have an excuse to talk to the cute barista behind the bar. warnings: none! soft, fluffy fic word count: 741 a/n: i probably will not post tomorrow! we're getting a new puppy and he's coming home after i get off of work!

matt loved the small coffee shop and bakery on the end of his street. it was one of his favorite places to be, the atmosphere always warm, smelling like freshly made treats and hot coffee.

matt wasn't a coffee drinker. he had never really liked the taste of it, never being able to find a perfect mix between too bitter and overly sweet. he loved the smell of it, hence why he didn't mind sitting in a coffee shop to get some of his work done, but he always felt obligated to order something.

that was how he ended up seeing you for the first time. the shop had been understaffed, you being one of the few people behind the counter, having to double making orders and taking them. he'd gotten up to order, getting a black coffee and a chocolate chip cookie, sitting down in his seat, pretending to sip from it and slowly eating the cookie.

the next few times he came in, it was you working again, and he continued to order the same thing, slowly beginning to work his way up to a conversation while he ordered. he didn't learn very much about you in the short interactions, but you had a sweet personality, and were always kind. this, on top of being strikingly beautiful, kept matt coming back time after time.

you would be lying to yourself if you said that you never noticed him. you did. you noticed almost everybody who came into the coffee shop, your brain remembering regulars and those who only came in every now and again. as matt quickly became a regular, you took note of his order, and one day, you quietly set it out for him when he walked in, giving it to him free of charge.

he'd smiled, and tried to argue with you.

"i can't take this. just let me pay for it! it's not a big deal."

"no. take it. it's a gift, i'm giving it to you."

you'd given him a playful grin, making a gentle remark.

"as long as you don't start expecting free stuff every time, then it's okay."

he'd shaken his head, accepting defeat, your smile always a way to win him over.

"alright, alright. thank you. really."

he'd left the total of the cost of his coffee and cookie in the tip jar.

you continued to quietly watch him when he came in, noticing that he was sipping out of the coffee cup, but it still looked the same amount of heavy every time he dropped it into the garbage can outside of the shop, thinking you couldn't see him. you watched him do it multiple days in a row, and when he came back, you said something about it while taking his order.

"your usual, again?"

he nodded, already reaching for his wallet to pay.

"why do you get the coffee?"

he froze, confusion on his face.

"what do you mean?"

you tilted your head, noticing he clearly wasn't expecting to be called out.

"you always order that coffee but you never drink any of it. why order it then?"

he smiled, paying for both of the items and moving to put his card away before answering.

"you got me. i don't like coffee. i ordered it at first because i felt obligated to order something to drink while sitting in here, but i kept ordering it because this really pretty girl kept taking my order, and i needed some way to get her attention on me, even for just a few seconds."

a furious blush rose to your face as his words registered. you'd found him attractive, of course, but you didn't think you were the reason that he'd kept coming back all these times.

"there are easier ways to get my attention than ordering coffee you so clearly hate."

"yeah? and what would those be?"

you grinned, being grateful that there was nobody behind him in line, because this conversation was making your entire shift better. you decided to go out on a limb.

"ask me on a date."

he looked a little surprised at your forwardness, but smiled at you anyways.

"when are you off?"

"six."

"so, can i take you out around seven-thirty?"

you moved to grab his cookie, putting it into a small paper bag.

"you can. no more ordering gross coffee."

he laughed, shaking his head.

"no. just the cookie from here on out."

taglist <3

@courta13 @quinnynation @bowsandsturniolos @mqroonsturn @emely9274 @lizzyzzn @mattsbows @mattybsgroupie @sophand4n4 @leah-sturniolo @wr1tingsonthewall @sturns-mermaid @immaqulate @sweetshuga @user1smvtysturniolo @adoremattsturns @55sturn @chrisissobabygirl @backwardshatnick @jadest0ne @lezleeferguson-120 @sheluvsthesturniolos @faith5drpepper @thecrawlys @evansturn @eeyoresturnz @whore4chris @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @kier-with-a-k @chrissturnioloslvt @jessie-essie @rina3476 @lilolebambi @chrismyman @icamehere4fanfics @chrisbratt333 @jacsismattswife @sturncloud @a-m-b-e-r-r @tezzzzzzzz @starsashley00 @slut4chrisloads

if you would like to be added to my taglist, click here!

[muffinsin]

Omg hii I love your re8 stories especially about the DIMITRESCU’S DAUGHTERS flies. Can I request one where a the reader actually like swats or crushes their flies bc they didn’t know it was actually apart of them.

Hi, hon! :) I’m happy to hear you like my works😊🙇‍♀️ Haha, absolutely! :) imma try a new type of post very similar to the meme reaction one, this time mixing HCs with emoji reactions. Just trying things out, lemme know what y’all think🙌

Let’s get into it :)!

Masterlists

Bela

😳🤕😓

Bela works, as usual, her body tense, her shoulders and hands aching, yet she sits comfortably at least, her eyes closed trailing over the pages before her

You sit next to her, assigned the task of organising the little cabinet next to her office desk

While it sounds rather simple, you know better

You know the task is one not given to anyone, that she trusts you with this

That she trusts you understand her enough to organize it properly, to not only see and understand the way she likes it organised, but to follow this scheme, too

Summarized; she trusts you

She likes you, more so than the other staff members

She finds, you’re hard working and finish all the tasks she gives you just the way she expects it

You never fail her

As such, you enjoy a certain amount of kindness from her, a privilege at the castle

You’re given immunity, up to a certain point of course

And you find; you like her too

You like joining her as she works, like to remind her to eat and drink occasionally

All in all, working for Bela is incredible, you feel

You’re honored you’re given this job, this opportunity, despite being rather new at the castle

And that, precisely that, is how you could get into this specific situation today

You’re organizing the desk once again as she works, studying the papers, wholly concentrated

You think she almost looks cute like that, her nose scrunched up a tiny bit whenever she concentrates, her eyebrows drawn together a little

You move quietly, slowly, as to not bring her out of this state

Not that you think much could, anyway

Aside from, you think, the fly you spot suddenly moving at her desk

You frown in confusion…you have seen suspiciously many flies at the castle. You wonder whether it’s got a pest problem

Well, you think, at least you will solve this pest problem for her

Too wrapped up in her work, Bela doesn’t even notice you move, nor does she think much of the fly she allows to idly swarm about

You move closer, slowly, then suddenly strike

“Ah-aouw!”, she shrieks suddenly, straightening up and tensing up immediately

You move to her quickly, yet can’t find any injuries on her

“Did you-?”, she asks, looking at the dead insect on top of her table

She’s at a loss for words, stuck like a deer staring into the headlights, unsure what to do now

Normally, any who kills a fly of theirs, intentionally especially, would find themselves punished

But…she likes you. Maybe she can let it slip

“Do you want me to remove it, Lady Bela?”, you worry

She blinks at you, wordlessly

Do you…think she’s scared of a fly?

When nothing followers her shocked silence, you move the fly away, yet just when you’re about to throw it into the pin, she jumps up again, stopping you

“No!”

“Don’t”, she adds, a little softer. Is that a blush on her cheeks? You don’t think you’ve ever seen her blush

Almost shy, as though scared it will freak you out, she explains

“It’s, a part of me”, she explains, somewhat awkward. Something unusual from the eldest sister, no doubt

At first, you don’t understand

Then, it dawns on you

She cocks her head to the side adorably as you gasp, holding the little insect gently in your palm as you attempt to bring it back alive with gently pushes of your finger

She winces as you squish it further, but notes your good intentions

Just as she’s about to sit back down, your naive question has her go back into a shocked silence

“Would you mind if I kept it?”

Cassandra

😨🥴😳

Being her assistant in the cellars, your role is very…unique

Only a handful of people ever worked at her side like this

Even more of these proved to be inadequate

Not you, though

You’ve been working with her for a few months now, staying by her side, loyal as she expects you to be

You work hard, too

You always bring her what she needs, hold what and who she needs you to hold, learn more each day to assist her even better

She, of course, sees this

Sees how hard you work, how eager you are to please her, how loyal you are to her and only her

The prisoners scream, beg, cry, try to bribe you

Never do you give in

You’re hers like that, utterly loyal to you

She trusts you, because of that

And you trust her in return

She never lashes out at you, doesn’t hurt you

Despite working at the infamous Dimitrescu basement, you’re never at risk of staying there

And not only that

She even shields you from her sisters

Daniela is not to flirt with you, not to try and seduce her lest Cassandra drags her away by the hood of her dress

Bela, while she rarely pays you any mind, speaks plain with you, the usual condescending tone she uses when talking to most humans lacking as it comes to you

Despite all this, there is a crucial information you have not yet picked up

That being the castle inhabitant’s biology

Despite being with Cassandra nearly all day, every day, you haven’t yet picked up that the many flies in the basement simply belong to her

Are a part of her

You never really paid much mind to them, assuming flies just come with the many rotting bodies down in the cellars

And really?

They never quite bothered you, either

Until today, that is

Cassandra’s back is turned to you- another large show of trust, as you know- as she works on scrubbing some dried blood off her sickle

While appreciating the look, certainly, she swears it feels wrong when she swings it

You don’t question her, instead simply note down today’s findings and tasks completed already

Then, you see a fly, constantly swarming around you, to your shoulders and ears, your chest and arms, hands and the paper you’re trying to write on

It seems bold, somewhat

You groan a little in annoyance at the constant buzzing near your ear

Then, when you lift the notebook and the little fly lands right below it, you see your opportunity to strike and end the annoying buzzing at last

Only when you bring the thing down, you hear a loud gasp coming from Cassandra, her body flinching

Almost, you think she’s cut herself on her sickle, yet when you pick the nearly squished fly up, she’s suddenly shivering

“What did you do?!”, she asks, her words loud, yet little fury behind them

Normally, she would have your head, ideally turn it into some cute cup for her to drink out of

Alas…she likes you

And each time you accidentally squish the small insect between your fingers, shivers run up her spine

“What do you mean, my Lady?”, you ask, genuinely confused. You didn’t even think she noticed the fly

But, when you experimentally squeeze it again, you notice the shivers and how her body trembles a little

Is that a blush on her cheeks? You’ve never, in all your time with her, seen even a hint of a blush on the woman’s cheeks

Cassandra uncharacteristically backs up when you approach, gasping in surprise when she, unsurprisingly, bumps right back into the table she rested her sickle on just moments prior

As you stand directly in front of her, you feel the weak insect struggle between your fingers and gently part them to release the fly

Fascinated, you watch as it seems to return to Cassandra, melting perfectly into her waist

Is this why she’s so responsive?

You can’t help but giggle, and immediately her sickle is pressed against your neck

Alas, months of working with her and even playful teasing between the two of you have you taught that you aren’t in danger

Boldly, you lean forward, smiling at your newfound knowledge

“I didn’t know you had such a sensitive waist, my lady”

Daniela

😢😪🤕

Daniela and you are incredibly close, this much is obvious to just about everyone residing in the castle

Already when you first came to this place, Daniela’s golden eyes set on you

Curious. Eager. Hungry. Dangerous

You were the first to see the loneliness in them

And you indulged her

You took a gamble and decided to treat and talk to her like one would to an actual being, a friend even, rather than just a supervisor, a superior

You know, of course, she is your superior, her mother having employed you

But, it worked, and Daniela was over the moons to finally get to talk to someone who did not try to keep conversations as short as possible to get away again

Nowadays, Daniela spends every day with you, her loneliness having been turned to clinginess instead

When you work, she likes to visit you, swarming around and giggling as she tells you jokes she’s picked up around the castle

You don’t mind at all

You find, you work better in her company

Her many stories- and often, complaints about her older sisters- allow you to concentrate, and have you giggle sometimes, even

What so many in the castle simply don’t understand, is that Daniela is fun to be around

Manic at times, yes, dangerous even. Clingy, obsessed

Lonely, happy, eager, cute, intelligent, funny, understanding

She cares for you

And you care for her

Often, your relationship to her is interpreted differently by the many other staff members

Especially when they see Daniela curled up on your lap late at night, finding she sleeps so much better with you there, rather than alone in her empty, dark room

You don’t mind the company in the slightest, so long as it’s her

You think, you have Daniela pretty figured out

You know when to approach her and when to keep your distance, when she’s feeling more feral or manic and you should stay away, when she needs you and your comfort, when she feels playful, when she’s dead serious

You know her relationship to her sisters and mother, a bond stronger than any you have ever seen or heard of before

You know of her carelessness as it comes to the staff members

You know she loves the warmth of the fire and blankets and your lap

You know she hates it when you accidentally leave a window open for some fresh air when the temperatures are somewhat lower than usual

What you don’t know, not yet, is that the many flies you often see buzzing around you belong to her

Today, you’re going to find out

You’re curled up in her bed with her, comfortable on the soft mattress- softer than any provided to the staff, of course

Having read to her for about an hour now, you realize Daniela is nearly about to fall asleep

The hand having traced your arm is slowly stopping, instead laying limply against you

Her breath is even, her eyes struggling to stay open

In your short time with Daniela you’ve learned, the woman loves to sleep

She likes taking little naps throughout the day, giggling when she wakes again with the energy to hunt or taunt her sisters and prisoners

You don’t want to disturb her, keep reading gently in hopes it will lull her to sleep

And you’re sure it will, is, when you suddenly spot the one fly that keeps buzzing around her

Moving to her waist, it almost looks like it disappears before you see it again near her head

She whines a little, and you can only assume it’s because of the fly

Hoping to help her out, you decide to dispose of the small insect

While normally not minding flies, you start to feel irritated at this one

Daniela feels perfectly comfortable, happy to doze off on top of your lap

Then, something that almost sounds like a slap

And a sting

“Ow!”, she whines, sitting up immediately

She eyes the dead fly in your palm, and you only now realize that the few rumors you heard about her being made of flies were true

You only ever thought they were insults, not a single speck of truth on them!

Now, Daniela’s bottom lip is wobbling as she looks at you, her eyes big and wet

Immediately, you do what she obviously expects and pull her fully into your lap to hug her to you

With her head at your shoulder, you still feel her smile even as you can’t see it, but don’t comment on it

You know, Daniela tends to like being a little dramatic to get what she wants

A little drama bug, you suppose

You feel her smile as you rub her back and hold her, trying hard not to giggle at the fake, big crocodile tears against your shoulder

You’ll admit, the fly-woman is good at this

With a playful smile on your lips you hold her, squeeze her, even kiss the top of your head as you apologise

She only smiles against you again, yet again feeling ready to doze off

You can’t help but giggle when she does

[lesbianrobin]

observations from grading hundreds of american college students' discussion posts and essays about film

before i get into this i want to be SO clear that this is not meant to be a "kids these days" thing, but more a commentary on the contemporary media landscape and the impacts of new media on young people's consumption habits. i think that young people's expectations of film are primarily a reflection of how they've been taught to watch and process film.

also, i teach intro, so these are not necessarily film or even humanities majors. many of my students are in computer science, engineering, etc. okay yay let's go <3

most american college students have quite literally Never seen a single movie that was not in english, and are very resistant to reading subtitles.

i've had multiple students comment that non-english language films which require them to read subtitles force them to actually look at the screen, which makes them notice more details in the film. they are not accustomed to actually Watching films, and doing so is novel to them. they're used to just turning things on in the background before doing other tasks/scrolling on their phones.

students frequently comment upon whether or not a film was able to hold their attention, and many consider it a failing of the film itself if not. many students also lose interest when they are confused or uncertain about what is happening in a movie, rather than becoming more invested or intrigued.

some do note that they have short attention spans, and will clearly state that they do not watch or enjoy many movies because of this.

things which students see as inherently boring include black and white films, silent films, non-English-language films, and films more than twenty years old. many students were shocked when they enjoyed a film within any of the aforementioned categories.

a lot of students will see all of the pieces of the puzzle, but struggle to put them together. for example: they will note that a detective character seems to care more about pinning a crime on somebody than they care about actually solving it, that the detective is bad at their job, that the detective brutalizes suspects, but they will not quite reach the conclusion that the film is doing these things intentionally. rather than concluding that the film is criticizing the police, they will be upset that the character is so awful.

one student insisted that mad max: fury road is a deeply misogynistic film because the women were treated as objects and wore skimpy clothes. the fact that the entire plot of the film is about said women asserting their personhood and overthrowing the patriarchal order to establish a more egalitarian and empathetic matriarchy was not relevant to her; what mattered was how they looked, and no amount of explanation could change her mind. i don't really have a clear theory of what was going on here, but i wanted to share it because it feels. poignant. in a way i cannot articulate.

many students see "old" films as inherently worse than contemporary films. they will often say things like, "the movie was really good for something from the fifties."

a lot of people have never heard of alfred hitchcock. i don't rly have a take on this it just stunned me.

and this last one isn't necessarily film-specific, but i do think it's relevant to discussing media literacy and the quality of k-12 + STEM-focused university education: so many students do not know how to format a paper, and do not know how/do not think to look up a style guide or even consult the syllabus or assignment sheet.

students often add additional spaces between paragraphs, and/or use 1.15 pt. spacing rather than double spacing their papers. they'll use calibri or arial rather than times new roman, in 11 pt. font rather than 12. they'll write out their thesis separately from their paragraphs, or not write in paragraphs at all, instead writing something that looks closer to stream-of-consciousness bullet-point notes.

it seems to me that many students somehow make it through high school and into university without ever learning how to write a paper. what really concerns me however is the fact that this information is extremely available to them; in the class syllabus, on their assignment sheet, even if you just google how to write a paper. i'm no expert in education and i don't want to be alarmist, but i do think that there is a concerning lack of curiosity and care in many students, primarily those studying in STEM fields. part of this is just the fact that many of my students are used to writing lab reports and this is a different sort of writing, but the lack of flexibility and ability to engage with other subjects is very sad to me.

plenty of my students are curious and read the syllabus and pay attention to the films and know how to write! but the number of those who struggle to formulate a coherent paragraph, let alone paper, who cannot identify basic themes, indicates to me that young people are seriously suffering from shortened attention spans, the lack of popular non-english language film and television in american culture, and the proliferation of "second-screen" streaming content designed to be "viewed" by audiences who are not paying attention.

i don't have a remedy for this. i don't totally know why i'm typing this all out, except that my tenure as a teaching assistant is coming to an end and i felt an irrepressible urge to reflect upon the experience. idk i suppose i hope this will be interesting to somebody. if you made it this far, thank you and i hope you're well <3

[reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeko]

Sebek Zigvolt crush head cannons 💚

my first post on here uhhhhhh hiii feel free to request if you enjoyed reading this :)

❦ Sebek is the type that when he develops a crush, he has no idea it’s a crush. Like he’ll assume he’s sick with some human disease and think he’s dying. After extensive research, as well as “help” from some of the other freshmen. He learns it’s not some human disease. He still isn’t sure what it is though, so he turns to the only source that could know what this sickening feeling in his heart is. Lilia.

❦ When Lilia tells him it’s love, (after copious amounts of teasing from the older) Sebek is confused. This isn’t like the love and admiration he feels for Malleus. It’s different, it consumes him and it makes him feel awkward. If he sees you around your other friends, it’s instant jealousy. Why weren’t you hanging out with him? Don’t you know they’re not fae that are training to be royal guard? He is the only one that can protect you. Sure Jack may be absolutely bulked up but still! Sebek has muscle too! 

❦ okay maybe it’s slightly more obsessive but still! He’s a sweetheart when the two of you are alone. Need help carrying your books? He’s already there grabbing them for you. Can’t reach something in the Alchemy lab? Luckily for you he had extras so you can take some of his! Can’t find your notes for magical history and you have an exam next period? He’s next to you offering his notebook and scolding you softly about the importance of placing things where you’ll remember them. He’s quite literally your number one helper. Other than Malleus, you’re the only thing on his mind!

❦ He didn’t even know how to confess at first. Spending hours going through romance novels in the library to try and gain some sort of idea on how to tell you he loved you. Even turning to using Lilia’s computer to search up the most romantic ways to express his love. Eventually, the older fae saw his struggle and decided to help. So, with new found knowledge, he gathered the things Lilia had told him to and went on his way to confess.

❦ Sebek had shown up to Ramshackle the very next evening, a bouquet of your favorite flowers wrapped in small lights, candied fruit, and a box of chocolates in his arms. He had tried to dress up abit, only to get poked fun at by Silver and Lilia. So instead he wore his dorm uniform, hoping it was formal enough.  Nervous was an understatement. He was terrified as he cleared his throat and knocked on the door, silently praying that Grim didn’t answer.

❦ He luckily got his wish, watching as you opened the door, a small smile on your face as you looked up at him curiously. “Sebek?” 

❦ He could feel his face burning a bright red as he bowed, offering you the gifts as he kept his eyes trained on the ground below. “[Name], it has come to my attention that I have developed romantic feelings for you.” His loud voice seemed to grow quieter the longer he spoke.

❦You were stunned for a moment, slowly taking the gifts from the fae with a small smile. “I’m flattered Seb…” He winced slightly, preparing himself for rejection. “Do you reciprocate my feelings, [Name]?” He straightened out his back, face still burning red as he looked down at you. Giggling softly, you nodded. “I do Sebek.”

❦he begins courting you immediately, granting you scary dog privileges from any students that think It’d he okay to treat you with disrespect. Like I said, he’s a sweetheart, practically putty in your hands.❤️

[sanemisstalker]

NSFW sanemi post. obsessed with this stupid gif of him. This turned out way longer than i thought it would. Humiliating.

TW / fem genitals reader / he like, huffs your crotch. I know that turns some people off but he's not right in the head don't worry about it/you beg to get pregnant but like, you're not right in the head either-

Thinking about having a normal day with Sanemi, but something is off. Like- off, off. He's more silent than usual, and somewhat adverse to your touch.

He's not being cruel, he just seems almost confused? He's blinking more than usual, and looks to be almost dissociating during normal investigative tasks.

So okay. Whatever. You figure he needs a cool off day, you stop bothering him. The day winds down, and you and Sanemi are left cleaning up- normal.

Sanemi steps away from the scene, from you and the Kakashi for just a moment. Says he needs to piss. Normally you'd insist he'd get medical help, but the demon was miniscule, really. Maybe he got a new little knick. Nothing insane.

After your checkup, it's been maybe 30 minutes. Nobodies bladder is that big. You start to get a little worried. Not that he wasn't a pillar or whatever the hell, but still. He was your lover, and you liked for him to be in one piece and not wandering the woods at night.

So you venture off in the direction you saw him go- and it doesn't take you very long to find him. And when you do you're floored.

Sanemi has hunkered down at the base of a rather large tree. The first thing you see to indicate it's him is that snow white hair- standing out starch against all the deep green and brown-

And the second thing you note is the quiver of his body, and the almost animalistic speed of his arm, pumping furiously at his cock. Sanemi isn't a moaner by any means, but he is uninhibited now, thinking his voice is lost to the forest. He's all but crying.

One knee is bent up, pushing him against the tree, the other digging into the ground- his legs are open enough for his dick to be on full display. His pants are pulled down just enough to offer his cock freedom.

After a couple of hard jerks, he yanks his hand away to throw his head back. His feet press hard into the ground-

This state isn't enough to stop him from realizing you're there, though. It's seconds after you get within sight of him that Sanemi is scrambling to cover himself. He almost folds up like a lawn chair, but even the graze of his clothed thigh against his tip has him reeling.

'You need to leave.' He huffs,, voice shredded and throat dry.

'You look like you're in pain- are you o-okay?' You whispered.

'No!' He choked out. 'It's been like this all day it hurts so fucking bad.' His eyes looked like saucers. His face was blistering. He didn't add that it got worse everytime you opened your mouth or moved or hell- blinked. He felt vile, really. There wasn't anything particularly special about you today. He was just- terribly down for you.

You carefully made your way over to him.

'Don't look!' He spat. A hand flew up to your eyes instinctively. You immediately began to miss his miserable state, but you continued toward him. 'Y/N I swear to- fuck me- shi-hitt.' He slurred as your hand found the top of his head. His hair was soft, though his head was warm. You could feel a miniscule amount of sweat gathering at the base.

He'd immediately melt into your hand, all pleas of embrassment dissapearing, though the feeling wouldn't just leave. You hear him shuffle.

'You shouldn't have to see me like this-' He'd choke out, not knowing how pretty he looked. His head would crane up to your crotch, burying his face against the fabric. The scent was insanity inducing, driving his nose further up against your clit.

'Fuck' He'd slur 'I'm disgusting- I'm sorry-'

'I'm sorry you're so worked up.' You laughed a bit. 'Is there anything I can do to help?'

'You- fuck- come down here.' He mumbled, tugging at your pants. You knelt down next to him. He'd reach into your pants, not bothering to tug them down. You stayed silent, despite the sudden fingers spreading your slit open.

You could feel him begin to shake again, beating his dick with another low whine.

You'd take it upon yourself to pull your pants down. You'd laugh as his breathe would catch in his throat at the sight.

'Spread your legs.' He'd demand. You'd do as told and the noise he'd let out at the sight of your now sticky thighs and dripping cunt would be carnal. His hand would struggle to stabilize against your hip, fluttering on and off, gripping and grazing. He'd seem afraid to touch you. 'Ah, for me?' He'd croak out, trying to be suave and safe face, but even he released he couldn't manage it.

'Sanemi I want to- I want to open my eyes really bad.'

'You cant- see me like this. I'm a mess, you're not- ngh- ah-- god- missing anything.' He'd slip a finger in you with ease. Adding another a moment later. Despite the painful speed at which he was going with his own cock, Sanemi's hand with you was a much slower speed. Still a little rough and jagged, but more interested in staying inside of you, palm flat against your clit.

You'd bite your lip.

He didn't want you to look because he was sure he must look insane right now. Moreso than usual. He didn't want to blink and miss even a moment of seeing your pussy sucking on his fingers, so he wasn't. A blank, slack jaw stare at your pussy.

He didn't want you to look because he wanted to be rough with his dick. He wanted to edge. To be unsightly when he was done, face and chest red and blotchy- sweat pouring down him. He needed to just fucking let go. The ache had been weighing his limbs down the entire day, begging him to fuck you against anything, and infront of everyone. After killing that demon, it took an incredible show of strength to not bend you down next to the thing and give it something to take to the grave-

Sanemi would never do that- which is why he looked the way he looked right now, because he was really hating how close he got.

He'd finally pull out, taking his hand away from his twitching cock and over to your waist. He lifted you carefully up and over his lap until you were knelt above him.

'Can I see your chest?' He'd ask.

'Can I open my eyes?' You'd return, finally getting huffy. Sanemi practically barked. You could hear his teeth grinding together.

'No!' Sanemi shook his head. 'I'm pathetic right now, Y/N! Why would you possibly want to look at mw while I'm like this?'

'Because it was really hot.' You responded with little hesitation and full desperation, unable to rub your legs together like you really wanted. 'I really want to see you when you come- want to see your pretty face.'

'I'm not pretty.'

'You are!' You'd choke.

'You're pretty, I'm not pretty.' Sanemi mumbled.

'We can both be pretty.' You'd reason. Sanemi would huff. It took a moment of silence, the forest chirping and breathing beneath you all-

'If- if you open your eyes, you can't laugh at me.'

'I won't, I swear.' Sanemi's hand found your collar, and began to slowly unbutton it. Your eyes would flutter open, and you'd just swoon.

His eyes were so lax, so focused on your face and so- drunk. He looked like his breathe was going to stop any second. His chest was as flushed as his face. The fingers that had been inside of you had found their way to his lips.

He looked so fucked.

Your breath would shutter at the sight, your knees would almost give way- begging for his cock inside of you on a purely physical level-

You reached down, pulling his erection up to align with your hole- but Sanemi's hand reached out to grab you by the wrist.

'If I fuck you right now, I'm going to cum in seconds. No.' He choked. 'I'm not going to do that. I can't cum in you, I won't.' He'd fret.

'I want it.' You'd plead. His whole body would faulter. 'I won't get pregnant, I promise. I just- I want your cum in me-' your hand tightened around his cock, and your words rang in his ears.

'No we can't- Oh fuck- oh god-' With your hand still latched around his dick, Sanemi's back shot up and off the tree. His hands would reach up to latch over his lips and prevent the ovary shattering scream he wanted to loose. His eyes would roll back, feet digging into the ground-

His cum would absolutely paint your pussy. It'd splatter against your slit, and then drip back down onto his cock, spiraling down to his balls-

You'd never seen so much cum. It pooled against the waistband of his pants- spilling down his hips.

Sanemi would be left nonverbal after this, hands dropping to his chest to tighten around his haori- He'd look shocked, wide eyed and alert.

And very, very humiliated.

[stellamancer]

notes: time is a construct that bten!reader no longer understands. anyway, yes hellow, late gojo birthday fic that i am pretending that i'm not posting on megumi's birthday LMAO.

takes place in the same universe as beyond the unending night, however reading that fic is not necessary, all you need to know is that reader has a CT that can rewind time. slight and implied reader x gojo if you're squinting. also. reader is very unreliable narrator (there are some things in the narration that gojo responds to because reader is unaware they said it aloud oops.) not proofread.

wc: 944

“Your birthday was a couple days ago?” 

Gojo tilts his head toward you, expression passive for a split second before a broad grin spreads across his face. “It was! How did you know! Wait, let me guess, you—”

“The students,” you supply flatly before he can make any outlandish suggestions regarding how you happened across the information. “Yuta-kun mentioned it.” 

There’s a slight pucker to Gojo’s lips, but it’s gone almost instantly as he remarks. “Oh Yuta… He’s always been an exemplary student! Even going so far as to remember his dear old teacher’s birthday…” 

You stare at Gojo. There’s a trap here. Bait. It’s not well hidden either, if his exaggerated tone is any indication. You consider telling him straight up: it’s not possible to remember something you never knew in the first place. But instead, you decide to indulge him. “Do people usually not remember?” 

Now that you say that, you find the words hard to believe. You can barely call yourself a part of jujutsu society, but there’s no denying that Gojo is something of a big deal. There’s no way that these illustrious ‘higher ups’ would forget the birthday of someone as important as Satoru Gojo.

“It’s not that they don’t remember,” Gojo says, “it’s that they just don’t care.” 

The nonchalance in his voice stuns you, more so than the fact that you cannot detect even a hint of bitterness in it. They… don’t care? You want to be in denial, to think that that simply cannot be true. And yet…

You cannot deny it. 

Not when you know what you do of the top brass.

“Well, not the students,” Gojo adds, fondness seeping into his tone as the tiniest smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Threw me a party and everything. As expected of students of the Great Teacher Gojo!”

He puffs his chest out a little, clearly pleased, no doubt proud. 

“...did you do anything else?” you ask. Knowing someone as whimsical as Gojo, you can imagine him spending the day as he pleased, going from sweet shop to sweet shop spending exorbitant amounts of money on any and every sugary item he could possibly get his hands on. 

“Nope.” 

You blink at him. “What.”

“I was waaaaaay too busy to do anything else,” Gojo says with a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, I’m lucky that the students love me so much that they took on a couple extra missions just so we could party for a half hour.”

Gojo’s words have you gawking at him, slack jawed and in awe. You’re well aware that he’s a busy guy, but to only have had a half hour of free time on his birthday to celebrate is just…

“Don’t make that face.” His voice is quiet. Gentle. “It’s fine; I’m used to it. Just a part of being an adult, you know?”

He’s not wrong, but… 

Somehow, it doesn’t sit well with you. 

“....you’re done with everything you have to do today, right?” you ask, reaching into your pocket to check the time; it’s nearly midnight.

“Yeah?” Gojo answers, and while he sounds mostly amused, you think you can hear the smallest hint of confusion. “You thinking of having a late night snack together to make up for missing my birthday? How romantic of you!” 

“Not exactly,” you shoot back without missing a beat, but Gojo doesn’t seem to be disappointed by you rebuffing him. You outstretch your palm toward him and he inclines his head down slightly to show that he’s looking down at it. 

Gojo hums. He knows what you’re thinking. Of course he does. “You know that’s technically against the rules.” 

“And?” you ask as you stare back at him.

“You could get in biiiiiiig trouble, you know.”

Your gaze doesn’t waver.

“Could even be sentenced to death for it!” 

Your hand doesn’t move.

Gojo tilts his head to the side before heaving a sigh and shaking his head. He raises his hand, but rather than take yours, he reaches up higher and moves to flick your forehead. That would work just as well, and for a split second you gather your cursed energy, ready to use your technique, but—

You merely wince and Gojo tilts his head to the side, raising an eyebrow as your energy quickly dissipates.

“Change your mind?” he asks.

“Wasn’t sure if you were actually going to do it,” you answer honestly. Did he actually flick you or did he just ‘pretend’ to? There wouldn't have been any point if he pretended. 

“What do you think?”

You frown as a playful, yet menacing grin spreads across Gojo's face. He knows full well that you can't tell, especially if you can't even see the point of contact. 

“Well wishes aside, the only other thing I can really offer you is time,” you deadpan. It wasn't like you were going to be stupid and give him a week or even a month, but…

Gojo wags his finger at you, tutting. “No, not true! There's something else!”

You give him a pointed look. What else could you possibly give? 

“Well, it's really more like an IOU,” he explains airily, before his tone shifts, growing quieter and more serious. “Just get stronger. Strong enough to take on missions just like me and maybe next year we can have a longer party.” 

You sigh. His suggestion is more practical, more useful in the long run, and while you can agree with what he's proposed… It's his birthday. He could afford to be a little more selfish. 

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, his smile ever wide and absolutely ominous. “I'll keep that in mind next time.” 

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hey!! Really love your blog and do keep the Harry appreciation coming!

I apologise if this is a rather unusual question. Taking only the younger generation, more likely, the core six: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, Neville (and you can include Draco as well if you like), who do you think would defeat the others in a duel at their maximum potential (say, end of 7th year, since we have less information on post-war years )?

Let me rephrase that: it's rather obvious it would be Harry. What I mean is, how do you think each duel would play out? For example, I imagine a duel like Harry and Neville would be over in a minute or a less, but for a duel between Ginny and Luna (who, for some reason, I always assumed would be on the same level, though i could be terribly wrong) would probably take up a fair amount of time. Or if we were to take Harry and Hermione, while Harry would definitely win, I imagine there would be a stretch where they were equally matched.

There are also two sides to consider: 1) looking at them only as their strengths irrespective of their relationships with the characters and 2) looking at them as their strengths along with their relationships with the characters (Harry not wanting to hurt them or going easy). You can consider both or any one, I will leave that upto you.

I'd love your opinion on Harry's duels with each of these characters and/if any other duels between other characters among the mentioned ones that you think could be interesting.

I totally understand if you choose not to answer this, it's a big question and my phrasing might be confusing. And there might not be enough textual evidence for other characters (who knows?), but if you could provide your insight, that would be great! Thank you!

Thank you! 😊

And, yeah, this question is a little long, but it's a really fun concept, and your phrasing was clear. At least, I hope I got it right, becouse what I got sounds fun.

Okay, so I'm gonna structure this like a bracket battle of sorts even though it isn't exactly what you asked. If I don't, this post will be way too long + a little repetitive. I tried to make sure the interesting duels were paired up in the first round or eventually. Now, the duels are going to run as if the characters don't care about each other and see the other as an enemy, with notes on how it'll go if they have the relationship they do in canon.

Who wins isn't all that interesting, I think, and there are some duels where it really depends on when/how/why the duel is happening. But I tried to give a quick overview of their duelling styles and how they would mesh up against each other.

Now, Harry is a hard person to duel, and all his duels in this list would end very quickly. Wizard duels, in general, are pretty short since you will cast to incapacitate if you are fighting an enemy. The duel we see between Voldemort and Dumbledore in OotP is an exception to dueling, not the norm. Something like it could only happen between two very skilled and very arrogant combatants, which isn't the case for most of the pairings here.

Also, these are a little subjective, and luck plays a part in dueling but will not really be accounted for here.

Without further ado, the brackets:

1. Ron VS Hermione

2. Harry VS Neville

3. Ginny VS Luna

4. Draco will duel against the winner of duel 3.

Round 1: Ron VS Hermione

As enemies:

Hermione has an edge when it comes to spell repertoire and casting precision — she is objectively the better witch.

But

Assuming they are fighting as enemies who don't know each other, Ron would go for the kill before her. Hermione's ruthlessness has a limit; she is unwilling to kill, but Ron is (Ron offered to kill the DE at the restaurant at the beginning of DH, Hermione was terrified of the concept + Hermione didn't let Harry curse the DE with the baby head in the DoM in OotP). If Ron gets a kill shot before Hermione can incapacitate him, he would win.

Ron would be able to learn Hermione during the fight, which is important. While Hermione knows a lot of spells, she is pretty predictable and tends to stick to the same few and she is more hesitant. Her best strategy would be to incapacitate Ron quickly so he won't get lucky — which might not happen since when things get dangerous, she has a moment of shock in which she hesitates. In front of an enemy, Ron would be less hesitant. So, as long as Ron doesn't get a lucky shot and Hermione is focused and doesn't panic — she would probably win.

“Did you see me disarm Hermione, Harry?” “Only once,” said Hermione, stung. “I got you loads more than you got me —” “I did not only get you once, I got you at least three times —” “Well, if you’re counting the one where you tripped over your own feet and knocked the wand out of my hand —”

(OotP)

As canon:

If we have their relationship as it is in the books, Ron is not going to harm Hermione in any way and she knows Ron and she aren't really in danger, she wouldn't hesitate and just cast ahead non-lethally.

Also, these are Ron and Hermione, so they'd be having fun in this duel and getting jokingly competitive, so the duel would last longer since Ron wouldn't go for a kill shot in a moment of hesitation that isn't there in this sort of duel. This means the duel would be more drawn out and down to skill, making Hermione winning the more likely outcome.

Round 1: Harry VS Neville

As enemies:

I love Neville, but this is an easy Harry win. He wouldn't break a sweat.

Harry isn't one to kill if he has no reason to, unless he really sees Neville as an enemy; he won't cast anything lethal and limit himself to spells such as "stupefy" and "impedimenta" for the most part.

Neville, at his peak, can fight, and not badly, but Harry is so much quicker than Neville is.

Harry would wait to see what Neville does; Neville would be pushed to cast the first spell, Harry would dodge and start casting. He'd be too quick for Neville to both block and try and fight back at the same time. Not only that, but Harry is one of the more mobile duelers we see; he isn't staying at one place, he'd be moving all over, and Neville is constantly going to be on the back foot.

The thing about Harry's spell choice is that even when it's not a lethal one, he would cast spells to end the duel instantly. One spell is enough for Harry to win. Even if Neville gets lucky, Harry shows in HBP how quickly and instinctively he can pull up a shield, and the shield would be powerful enough to throw Neville back and disarm him — so, Neville loses all too quickly, unfortunately.

As canon:

Harry likes Neville; he doesn't want to hurt him, but he will cast an "expelliarmos" if he finds it necessary, and there is no way Neville would manage to hit him unless Harry is distracted (as happens in a D.A. meeting in OotP once). So, if Harry is focused on the fight, his first spell that lands is still ending it.

“Expelliarmus!” said Neville, and Harry, caught unawares, felt his wand fly out of his hand. “I DID IT!” said Neville gleefully. “I’ve never done it before — I DID IT!” “Good one!” said Harry encouragingly, deciding not to point out that in a real duel situation Neville’s opponent was unlikely to be staring in the opposite direction with his wand held loosely at his side.

(OotP)

Round 1: Ginny VS Luna

As enemies:

Ginny is known to cast some powerful hexes, Luna on the other hand, isn't as much of a fighter, and we don't see her cast much magic at all. Though she remains unhurt in the DoM longer than Ginny, I'd say she is less confrontational than Ginny and less reckless, and that's why.

Ginny is a better dueller in terms of spells, but she is very reckless. Luna is more cautious and would probably have a better, calmer grasp of the situation. I think Ginny is more likely to win this duel, though. As much as I love Luna, she isn't as fast on her feet or with her spell work, and magical dueling is so often down to who lands the first spell.

Ginny would also likely be pretty predictable as a dueler. You would be able to tell when she's about to cast something before casting it, it would be all over her body language and movements. But, as I said, I think in this duel she has enough of an edge with speed that she'd still win.

As canon:

I think Ginny would win, I think she is the better dueller between the two. Luna would laugh about it, though, and not take it personally, because she never does. Obviously, all the spells would be non-lethal and funnier rather than painful.

Round 2: Harry VS Hermione

As enemies:

Hermione, as I mentioned, knows more spells and is more precise in how she casts them. But she tends to hesitate under danger, especially early in the duel, which is the most crucial time in a duel.

Harry, on the other hand, is fast, casts on instinct, and he may cast spells wrong, but they end up powerful and deadly.

This duel would start slow; neither of them would want to cast the first spell since they would want to see what the other would do. I think Harry would cast the first spell, likely "stupefy" or "expelliarmus", Hermione would block the first one and cast a hex of her own, Harry would block, and his shield would push Hermione back, which would shock her for a moment. That momentary shock would be long enough for Harry to stun her, and the duel would be over.

As canon:

They're friends, they don't actually want to hurt each other. Like with Ron and Hermione, if it's a training duel, they'd draw it out to be longer and have fun with it. But again, unless Harry is really distracted or not really putting effort, he is going to "win".

Round 2: Ginny VS Draco

As enemies:

Ginny would not be casting unforgivables and limit herself to curses like her "bat-bogey hex" or boils or things like that. Curses that are painful and more varied than Harry's usual dueling repertoire. Draco, on the other hand, can cast unforgivables, which can't be shielded against.

Ginny though, is pretty mobile; she's a Quidditch player, she should be good at running and ducking around. Draco could be pretty mobile too, but he isn't. When he fights Harry in HBP, Harry is the one who dodges and moves around, Draco prefers to block spells while staying stationary (which I believe is the more proper duelling form taught to wizards, but it's worse in life-or-death sort of fights).

This duel would come down to who gets the other first, as usual, since the first spell would be debilitating. My impression is that it would be Ginny. I mean, if Harry finished saying "Sectumsempra" before Draco finished saying "Crucio" (HBP), Draco is not a fast caster. So Ginny would probably take him.

Which she does in OotP:

“But Ginny was best, she got Malfoy — Bat- Bogey Hex — it was superb...

As canon:

Honestly, this goes the same as enemies since Ginny justified Harry almost killing Draco in HBP. Like, she wouldn't be casting unforgivables either way, but she's definitely using her worst, most painful, non-lethal curses in their canon relationship too.

Draco doesn't care much about Ginny and whether he uses unforgivables or not would depend on when in his arc and under what circumstances they are dueling. Either way it isn't going to help him much, I think.

Round 3: Harry VS Ginny

As enemies:

We already established their strengths and weaknesses as duelers, and as always Harry would win this one.

Harry, as I mentioned, would rather not cast the first spell against an unknown enemy. Ginny has none of these concerns — she'd start casting and moving forward the moment she is in a duel, and something important also in martial arts — you never run into a fight. Running into a fight puts you at a disadvantage. Since you're running in, you can't really change your momentum, and you're giving your opponent control over the situation. Yes, she isn't literally running, but she tends to be rash. It makes her a more predictable dueller and therefore easier to intercept if you know what you are doing and she doesn't catch you off guard. And Harry is rarely off guard (something something hypervigilance due to trauma).

The reason she could win against Draco and Luna is that she casts faster than they can react to her, but with Harry, this advantage is moot. She would start casting spells quickly, rushing in as Harry would block and dance around her. One well-timed shield charm from him will put her enough on the back foot for him to win. Remember, all that's needed to win is one spell that counts.

As canon:

Like with the other canon Harry duels, this would be a more fun, playful duel, and the spells would be non-lethal and non-painful to match. So, it depends on how much effort Harry is putting in since he doesn't put as much effort when practicing with the D.A. as he does with an actual enemy.

Some quick rounds:

A duel between Draco and Harry would pretty much go like their duel in the bathroom in HBP. Harry is just quicker, and even if he isn't trying to be lethal, Draco would not get a hit on Harry before Harry incapacitated him. Harry would be moving around, making himself a harder target to hit, but Draco won't.

A duel between Ron and Harry would be similar (if they fight as enemies). Harry is just really fast and duels like it's a street fight. Though once Ron notices it, he'd match his own style. He won't mind punching and kicking in a duel, but I think Harry could incapacitate him before it gets to it.

In a Ron VS Draco duel when Ron's wand isn't broken, I want to give Ron the win, but it's a close one. Ron would win because he ducked a spell and then just punched Draco instead of casting a spell of his own.

[koiiiji]

fantasy AU series! lookism & windbreaker boys

tw ; supernatural, suggestive, kinda obsessive

starring ; gun & goo

author’s note ; pls if u know art authors bellow, let me know, i will tag them. i took all arts from pinterest and i haven’t found any credits

author’s note 2 ; let me know if you want part 2 with other characters, i decided to separate post in case if you guys won't like it 🙏🏻🫶🏻🪄

Gun & Goo

Oni & Kitsune

it was known that the creatures of the forest were not the friendliest. oni and kitsune divided the forests at the foot of the mountain between themselves, standing at the top of the food chain and becoming each other’s natural enemies, while the tengu lived high in the mountain. the way there was closed to almost all creatures, no matter if they were humans, animals or demons. but this didn’t mean that the young tengu didn’t come down from the mountain in the darkness of the night to look at the inhabitants of the forest. of course, it was forbidden, and the elders severely punished those who disobeyed, but still youthful excitement and interest led small groups of teenagers to the foot of the mountain.

tere's nothing unusual about that, you assured yourself as you made your way through the thick fog, along with the other tengus - your brothers and sisters. you often saw the older guys sneaking out at night to have fun, and in the morning they teased you, younglings, with stories about how entertaining and interesting it was downstairs. this has already become a kind of ritual among young people - teenage excitement and thirst for adventure forced them to run away late at night to the border with something forbidden, to meet something that was hidden from the eyes. the forbidden fruit is always sweet, right?

well, fruit wasn’t that sweet when you fell into a trap, while you were running away from the oni who caught you at the border. maybe guard confused you with kitsune, or even with humans, but they clearly didn't welcome outsiders into their territory. it was very difficult to take off, the forest was very dense, the branches of the pines were so dense that neither the light of the moon nor the light of the stars could be seen, you didn't even have enough space just to spread your wings completely. in a panic, all the brothers and sisters scattered to wherever they went, not sorting out the way, leaving each other alone with darkness, fear and furious onis behind them.

somehow climbing a tree, you tried to get higher so that you could fly out of this damn forest, now I don't care how you get home, whether you will be punished, now the main thing is to survive. * crackling* the branch under you crunches, the hand slips off. A body with wings seems so heavy when they are just flapping behind your back, unable to lift you higher or lighten the weight. and so, you're already flying down, breaking a few more branches under you.

it was unusual to fall. the last thing you remember - before you pass out from a painful shock - is a characteristic crunch in your right wing, for a moment you felt like you were doused with ice water, then the heat of a thousand suns pierced your body sharply. the pain was incredible, so much so that you didn't even have the strength to make a sound louder than a squeak squeezed deep in your chest. the blood was throbbing loudly in ears, pulse was just racing, but a couple of seconds on the ground seemed like an eternity before your brain gave up from the overwhelming amount of adrenaline, pain and fear.

when you woke up, the sun was pleasantly warming your cheek, persistently seeping through the coniferous thickets of the forest. "it seems this one is still alive," a high-pitched voice sounded somewhere above you, dismissively poking a healthy wing with a stick. “what's the difference, just finish her off and let's go, I don't want to be seen in the company of a fucker like you” - another, rough and low voice, boomed somewhere in the distance.

taking advantage of their small skirmish, you abruptly turned over, in the process backhand hitting the blond man in the face with a healthy wing, you crawled back to the trunk of a tree, painfully pulling up the wounded wing, covering yourself with it, and bringing clouds of dust with a healthy one. a pathetic attempt to delay the moment of death honestly. the agony from the broken wing pierced the entire right side of his body, waves of pain drowned out by adrenaline yesterday, now hit with renewed force. with a groan, throwing your head back, you turned your gaze up at the treetops, not wanting to see the faces of two bastards who will just kill you if you're lucky enough.

"but this one pretty adorable,what do you think, Gun?" the blond man said in an ordinary tone, turning his head to his companion, while a clawed hand squeezed your throat with incredible force, pressing harder into the tree. "oh! maybe she's some kind of an important person there? what do you say, poor thing? will they give us a reward if they find out that you're alive?" - the claws dug deeper into the skin when his face was so close, the vertical pupils piercing into your soul. "don't mess around, just kill her already, it's starting to get on my nerves" - an irritated voice approached, did the blond man call him Gun?

another clawed hand grabbed you by your cheeks, twisting your head, examining you. the pitch-black eyes narrowed, appraisingly surveying your entire appearance. "weeeeell, what do you think??" - the blond man drawled, slightly tucking his big ears in anticipation, several tails twitched animatedly behind his back. stop. stopstop. the blond one was a kitsune, but the black-eyed one had two thick horns sticking out of his forehead, so he was an oni. how could these two be standing here together?

"do whatever you want.." - clicking his tongue, oni turned around and headed into the thicket of the forest. "great! let me know when you want to visit us!" - his friend waved cheerfully at him, slowly turning to you and baring his fangs in a wide grin. "don't get him wrong, he liked you.." - he said affectionately, tucking your lock of hair behind your ear, - "we just haven't been able to grab tengu before... well, at least not alive. your brothers and sisters have never gone this far into the forest..." - his predatory grin didn’t leave his face as he examined your wounds and abrasions. "my name is Goo. my friend Yuzuru, but he prefers to call himself Gun," - a hot breath touched your ear when Goo whispered to you about his friend. "let's go heal your beautiful wing, what do you say, cupcake?"

another trap has just been snapped behind your back.

author’s note ; sammy, taejin, vinny and joker coming soon if u guys will like this series🫶🏻👅