#i could write essays upon essays on why i love him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aniharas · 1 month

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𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥!𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘹 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘩.𝘤.'𝘴 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦)

pairing: obsessed!down bad!felix catton x fem!reader

summary: felix's lack of control over his deep feelings for you, his revisions partner, begins to spiral him into a sick and twisted sense of keeping you as his.

warnings: explicit language, sexual tension & content, themes of purity and corruption, use of cigarettes and alcohol

wc: 2.1k+

Maybe Felix Catton wasn’t the mindless pretty boy at Oxford like everyone had chalked him up to be. Maybe he was, at least until he saw you.

At first, he wasn’t exactly the most excited when he found out his revisions partner was you, a scholarship girl. A first-class student. Always buried in textbooks nonstop, always holed up with nerdy little books doing your nerdy little homework. He never found people like you any fun, so he braced himself for a snoozefest as you plopped down into the armchair beside him.

But Felix couldn’t have ever been more wrong about the pureness that was you. Sickly sweet, serene you. Skin tantalizingly covered by whatever shoddy arrangements Oxfam provided. Black-rimmed glasses with a prescription so high, it made your bambi-like eyes bulge out of your head. Voice so sugary, he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. You were a prude by all means, but you made it look so damn good. God forbid the tutor asked him anything about your essay, it was fuck all in his brain. And god forbid anyone asked him to make sense of what he felt for you.

And so he eagerly showed up to each revision. It started with the simplest of gestures. Holding the door open for you, carrying your books. He noticed you always walked home alone after each session at night, so he took it upon himself to escort you back to your dorm safely.

And then it was gifts. Things that he could nonchalantly pass off as having extra of. Packaged sweets from the dining hall, an extra No. 2 pencil. He even tried to offer you a cigarette as the two of you strolled across campus. Of course, being the modest girl you were, you refused. He was glad that you did. You were responsible, you were good. He loved that about you.

But it wasn’t enough. Those brief, one-hour sessions were far from enough. Being the workaholic you were, you were hard to find around campus; that bit irked him. The whole “girl” thing was second-nature to him. They came to him in swarms, in fact. Why were you never there? That was fine with him, he liked the chase. He’d find a way.

“Tutor you? Felix, I think you’re doing fine–” “Codswallop, and you know it. You, on the other hand…you’re exceptional.” “I don’t think I’m exactly qualified enough-” “I do.”

And these newfound tutoring sessions were far better than what he had been getting. He never thought he’d look forward to being in a tutorial for hours in a stiff library chair, but the very thought consumed his waking days. Because it was you, dressed in your hand-me-down school jumper, brows adorably furrowed as you hastily scribbled notes across the margins of his essays. He wasn’t exactly the best at writing, but he occasionally found himself misspelling words just to see you get irritated with him.

“Sometimes it slips my mind that you’re a rich kid. Until I remember we’re at Oxford and this is what you wrote,” you had said one time. Had it been from anyone else, he would’ve blown a fuse. But it was you, who always snuck in bites of your Crunchie between each sentence. You were so genuine, so oblivious to the world around you. He could never be upset with you.

Which is why he felt responsible for you. But how could he protect you when you were so elusive? He considered himself blessed if he found you at King’s Arms on the weekends, or anywhere at all. And blessed he was, on a Friday night, just before Oxford let out for the holidays.

It was you, accompanied by your trashy roommates. “Come on, just once before you go home,” they had whined as they pushed you through the doors. Upon this rare sighting, Felix decided that the story he was entertaining his table with was pointless, ceasing his conversation. It was like he was in a trance, the way he stood from his seat and gravitated toward you. Wordlessly, he plucked you away from your roommates. He figured you were better off with him.

It was clear that you weren’t used to any sort of bar culture, and while he found that endearing, he made sure to look over you. He booted a girl from his group just so he could seat you next to him, all while making sure you didn’t see the nasty glare she gave you.

Assigning himself as your drink-sitter, he carefully scrutinized whatever you ended up drinking. Any strong liquors that came your way were quickly confiscated, much to Farleigh’s disdain (although he was placated once the extra shots were passed along to him). All you had to your name was a modest mug of beer, which you sipped at tentatively as you tried to make sense of the conversation around you.

You had gotten through one beer, though you were struggling about halfway through your refill. Despite that, Felix was in awe of you. The whining as he took the cup away, the mindlessly giggling at a joke one of the girls told, the fidgeting with the hem of your jumper. How could someone make drinking look so innocent?

“My face is hot.” “You’ve got a buzz going. It’s quite a look.” “A good one or a bad one?” “A bit of a naughty one.” He quickly earned a punch in the arm from you.

And this was far better than the revisions or the tutoring. To finally discuss something other than academics with you was refreshing. He found himself recounting all of his stories, even the ones he had already told that night, just so he could hear you laugh at everything he said. It was a melody in his ears, a tiny bell jingling beside him.

Once the company began to fall out, Felix took you to get a breath of fresh air just beside the entrance of the pub. “D’you need anyone to take you home?” “Nooo, my roommates are heading back anyways.” “You sure? I can–” “Oh, you’re too kind. Why don’t you have a lover yet?”

The question was so forward and sudden, he couldn’t help but be surprised. You were definitely tipsy. “Huh…haven’t given much thought to it.” “Well, you should.” “And that means?” “They’d be lucky.”

Felix couldn’t help it; he was out of control, cradling your face into his hands as his heart threatened to leap out of his chest. They were indeed hot, you weren’t lying about that. There was silence, anticipation with a bated breath, and then your lips were all that he felt. If anyone was watching, and they most likely were, it was like he was holding himself back. Jaw tensed, muscles taut, brows scrunched. It almost looked like he was in pain.

And he was in pain, his restraint being tested every second he kissed you. Trying so desperately to not have his way with you, to take you home and screw you into his dorm mattress. That’s not the type of person you were.

But boy, did you make it difficult. The mere act of placing your hands against his chest, pressing your body against his. Again, painfully obvious this wasn’t something you did often, but that made it all the more perfect to him. He intended to keep you that way, which is why he let go.

The confusion that overtook your features made him regret his decision more and more, twisting his insides with guilt for leaving you hanging. Your lips, donning a soft shine, mouthed his name, but any sound went fuzzy in his ears. The more he stared at them, the more that forbidden feeling stirred inside of him.

Mumbling an apology, he abruptly stepped back, not even sure of what he was even doing. He had to get away, head home. It was ironic, to long for you so deeply but to hold himself back from indulging in you. He was never one to shy away from what he desired; it was his very nature, his reputation. But he couldn’t just use a girl like you to scratch one of his sexual itches, how could he bring himself to?

And so, Felix turned his back on you, not uttering another word. He pushed through the crowded walkway in a blind frenzy, ignoring the people who tried to strike up conversation. Never once looking back.

Soon enough, he heaved the grand doors open to his hall, ready to sleep off the feeling until a sultry voice called to him from his right. Annabel. Apparently she had been waiting for him.

It wasn’t long before she was straddled across his lap, basically eating away at the lower half of his face as she eagerly fumbled with his belt buckle. That’s what turned him off about her. Too eager, too annoying. It played a part as to why he had kept his distance from her, but for that night, she was better than nothing.

As she slipped off his lap to kneel on the messy floor of his dorm, his mind drifted elsewhere. The desperate girl in front of him disappeared, then you were there, just as he left you. Staring up at him behind your obnoxious glasses, your bottom lip trembling. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Would you even know how to do this sort of thing?

If he allowed himself, he’d guide you, gripping a part of your hair. Not tight enough to hurt you, of course, just enough to get leverage. He’d watch as your pretty lips parted to take him in, taking your sweet time. Your mouth would be soft and hot, your tongue shifting about awkwardly underneath him. He bet that you’d have it down quickly; you were good at most things, being a quick learner. Perhaps there would be a few scrapes from your canines as you bobbed up and down, if he were to be realistic. But the sting was more than alright with him.

Felix always prided in himself for his ability to give a girl a good, long time. Why else would they flock to him by the dozens? So what was so different about you that made him feel like he was already about to burst the seams?

Because it was still you, sickly sweet and serene you, lips wrapped around him and devouring him like the candy you always loved. Your eyes would water, but he’d gladly wipe away each drop that managed to escape. It left him a whiny mess. Sweat prickling at his forehead, ragged breaths heaving his shoulders up and down, white-knuckling your hair.

And when he’d come close, he’d let you know. You didn’t like being caught off-guard. Your heavy disdain for pop-quizzes or his endless pranks of sneaking up behind you made that apparent. But he prided himself in knowing these things about you, that he was able to gather it all from your little ramblings.

You liked American reality TV. Disliked gel pens. Loved your chips overdone. A ridiculous query crossed his mind. Would you like spitting or swallowing? Or would you rather it all over you? From how your lips were glued to him, it seemed like swallowing. But that made him hesitate. You would never like such a thing. You were squeamish around anything sticky or slimy. Cough syrup, oily or tacky lotions…you hated them. As much as it dismayed him, why would this be any different?

Because it wasn’t you. And as soon as the girl he had taken back to his dorm reappeared, he knew that she could never be you. Nobody could. He was disgusted with himself for dirtying that memory of you. He had turned something so innocent into something so grossly erotic, and he knew he had crossed a line. How could he ever see you the same way again?

He was also disgusted with how Annabel seemed to not care despite his disillusion. She might have been the only girl he had seen that got off on merely sucking someone off. It was genuinely pathetic. Her head was swiftly yanked up, her lips making a “pop” sound.

“Alright, get out.” “What? But we’ve barely done anything, Fe–” “I don’t fuckin’ care. Piss the fuck off!”

Felix thought he would feel bad about kicking Annabel out, especially after she left in tears with her clothes haphazardly buttoned. But he could genuinely not have cared in the slightest; he was already preoccupied, mind filled with guilt after what he had done to you. But did he feel regret? No. That’s what ate at him the most. Someone like him shouldn’t have gone for someone like you.

Perhaps it was better to try and forget that he kissed you. Kissing you meant opening the floodgates of his feelings, his debauchery. He had to keep that closed so that you could stay as pure as you always were. His perfect girl.

And he would do anything to keep you that way.

to be continued!

a/n: dutifully fulfilling this request by my lovely anon. i wanted to delve more into the selfish, savior complex that he was and i DEFINITELY intend to take it deeper for the next part. again, thank you for the ask! co-written by @hellb4ts! leon, thank you for the many wonderful ideas. and you're welcome for introducing you to saltburn <3 inbox is open for any asks or reqs !

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#felix catton #saltburn #fem!reader #felix catton x reader #felix catton x reader smut #felix catton smut #farleigh start #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi x reader smut #jacob elordi smut #corruption kink #felix catton headcanons #felix catton hcs

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dearabhi · 5 months

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HERBOLOGY - harry james potter.

a/n: hi! this isn't the best of my writing, but i just wanted to keeps this acc alive so i posted this fic. i lowkey don't like this fic, but hey, hope u enjoy this though!

summary: hufflepuff! reader wakes up in dread, what she didn't know was something that lighted her life forever.

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

Y/N WAS SO SLEEPY, really. why would anyone not be in this cosy weather?

y/n would like to stay in bed and sleep all day, but susan being the most annoying person she is, woke y/n up.

when the two entered the great hall for breakfast, y/n couldn't help but fall asleep in susan's shoulder.

"get off me, idiot" susan scolded y/n, shoving her off.

"but you're soooo comfortable, susan" y/n whined as she placed her head in susan's shoulder and started sleeping again. susan rolled her eyes, but let y/n sleep.

just as she was about to fall asleep, her second-most annoying friend, hannah decides to wake her up by stepping on her foot.

this time, y/n was really up. "ouch! that hurts!"

"i don't care but, don't turn right away after i say this but, harry is looking at you," hannah whispered to y/n.

y/n almost broke her neck while turning to face the gryffindor table just to see a certain raven-haired boy looking at her.

REALISING Y/N WAS LOOKING AT HIM, harry quickly turned to ron and hermione and pretended to be hearing whatever they were talking about.

"ron! when will you ever stop depending upon me and write your own history of magic essay?" hermione asked ron, quite aggressively.

"never ever, mione" he replied and went on to take the toast and shove it inside his mouth. hermione rolled her eyes.

"i am going to do it" harry said, suddenly. hermione and ron looked at him with questioning looks. "i am going to talk y/n l/n,"

"this is the thousandth time you told us this, harry" ron said immediately. harry rolled his eyes.

"thank you for those kind words, ron, but this time i am serious." harry added determinedly.

"ronald you should stop discouraging harry, and i think this is a brave choice, but i think you would lose y/n as she's getting out of the great hall right now-" hermione started, before she could finish, harry was running towards y/n.

y/n was walking with hannah to the herbology class, even though hannah doesn't have herbology now. she just needed an excuse to see neville.

y/n stopped walking when she heard him calling her name.

y/n turned around to see harry potter walking, no, literally sprinting towards her. it was a rare sight.

y/n tells to hannah to go ahead and waits for harry to catch his breath.

harry then, immediately says, "y/n, can we, uh, walktogethertoherbology" quite fastly and y/n couldn't catch him.

"i am sorry, harry, but would you repeat it couldn't catch it," y/n asked him.

harry turns a little red. clearing his throat, he starts, "can we walk together to uh, herbology?"

harry looks at her expectantly. how can she ever say no to him?

"you don't have to, you know? it's just a request and it's completely fine if you don't-"

"no, no, i would love to walk with you, harry" y/n stops him, and a beautiful smile appears on harry's face.

harry insisted on taking her bag and as they started walking to the class. few jokes were shared as they walked, and honestly, it was the longest conversation the two ever had.

despite having to be in the same year and almost the same classes more than 5 years now, she and harry barely talked thanks to both of their lack of confidence when it comes to the other.

herbology would normally take longer minutes to reach, but while walking with harry, it only felt like seconds.

the two, sadly had to be separate from each other when they reached the class.

but as soon as the class ended, harry rushed towards y/n and asked her out.

ofcourse, as a sane person would, y/n obviously said yes.

y/n was glad and thanked susan for waking her up early.

#hope u guys liked it #ik its bad #harry james potter x you #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter #harry james potter fluff #harry james potter x reader #harry potter x reader #hufflepuff!reader #hufflepuff

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thegayestmferintown · 9 days

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i rewrote this ask like three times already trying to word it perfectly lmao. fem!yuu x octavinelle (separately). the pair attends NRC’s annual winter ball together as friends, though they’re both unaware of their mutual crushes on each other. at the end of the ball azul/floyd/jade confess their feelings!! also if possible could yuu’s dress be based on either ariel’s pink one or cinderellas original one (the silvery one) if any part of this was unclear pls feel free to message me and i’ll clear it up! my brains literally melting rn bc i just finished this horrible essay for history and tbh atp im just word vomiting everything out 😭😭

This is my second time writing this, I lost all of my progress the first time 😭

I had so much fun with the second version of Jade's part 💀

@nisobird 🚨🚨azul🚨🚨

Warnings ;; none

Relationship ;; Platonic, turned Romantic

Type ;; Short Story/One-Shot

OCTAVINELLE

Azul Ashengrotto ;; Octavinelle Housewarden ;; Second Year

You were late, and Azul was panicking. Why were you late? Did you just not want to see him? Were you just blowing him off? Azul as terrified of you not coming, not wanting to see him.

Upon seeing the doors open, revealing you, in a dress similar to that of the Sea Princesses, Azul's jaw dropped. He straightened his back upon seeing you come his way.

He gave a small laugh, "well.. you look.. wonderful." You couldn't help the small laugh that came from you, "Thank you. You can blame Vil, he wouldn't let me come in a normal outfit." You laughed.

Azul gave a laugh in return, holding his hand out toward you upon hearing a slow song start overhead. "May I.. have this dance?" He asked, obviously nervous for your response.

You gave a smile and took his hand, "You may." Azul smiled and led you to the dance floor, one hand gliding toward your hip, and the other taking your own hand.

As you danced, he cleared his throat. "If I may, I have something to tell you." You nodded, motioning for him to continue. He gave a small, nervous chuckle. "I think I... No, I know that I love you." He said quickly, before giving a sigh. "That.. wasn't as bad as I'd suspected." He said with a nervous laugh, awaiting your response.

With a small laugh and shake of your head, you responded. "I love you too, Azul."

Jade Leech ;; Octavinelle Vice-Housewarden ;; Second Year

You hung out with the tweel, not exactly fond of the dance floor, especially while wearing heels and a puffy, long dress. "Hey, Jade. Are you good at dancing?"

Jade gave a chuckle, "Why, I'd say I'm all right, but I wouldn't say I'm the best." He admitted, "Although, Floyd is a much better dancer than myself." Jade gave one of his normal, light chuckles.

"Despite how good my other half is at dancing, he finds it.. boring and uninteresting." Jade hummed, taking a sip from the punch he held in his hand.

You gave a laugh, "yeah, that sounds like Floyd." Jade simply nodded in response. "Say, may I talk to you after the ball is through? I have something to tell you." He told you, finishing off his punch.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you nodded nonetheless. After some more conversation with the eel, the ball was over and Jade guided you outside to somewhere quiet and concluded.

Jade turned to you, "I must admit to you that you are quite entertaining. Assuming you know my brother and I as well as you do, you know that we are very fond of those who are entertaining."

You listened, giving a nod toward the end. "Which is where I'd like to tell you that I-" A shout was heard from a tree, looking over, a fallen Floyd laid on his back at the bottom of the tree. "Oh, just tell 'em, stupid."

Jade and yourself couldn't help but laugh, "tell me what?" You asked. "I love you." He said simply, kissing your forehead lightly.

Floyd Leech ;; Octavinelle ;; Second Year

Floyd had even shocked himself upon asking you to this ball, he had no intent on even coming in the first place. But the idea of seeing you in a dress, all completely dressed up, had him in a chokehold.

"Woah. You look nice." Floyd blinked, and you laughed in response. "Thank you, Floyd." He nodded and held a cup of punch toward you, and you took it. You thanked him once more before taking a sip on it.

"Hey, Shrimpy." Floyd said, getting your attention. "Yeah? What's up?" You asked. "What do you say we get out of here?" You blinked, "Floyd, we both just got here." You said with a laugh. "I know, but if we stay any longer then Crabby or Little Mackerel will come up and steal you. So." He said, making a popping sound with his lips as he waited for your response.

You shook your head with a laugh and nodded, "alright, but where do you want to go?" Floyd shrugged, "I don't care." You laughed, before taking his hand and simply taking him back to Ramshackle.

His eyes were glued to his hand even after you'd gotten to Ramshackle. You snorted, "Floyd." You said, waving a hand in front of his face. "Huh?"

"what's up with you?" You laughed, and Floyd shrugged in response, simply resting his chin on your head. He spoke up after minutes of standing like that. "Hey, Shrimpy?" He said, "yeah?"

"Love you." He said simply, kissing the top of your head before reverting back to resting his chin on top of your head.

#twistedwonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #octavinelle #octavinelle x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #jade leech x reader #jade leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #asks #x reader #romantic x reader #twst jade #twst azul #twst octavinelle #bluerosegardens

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plscallmeeren · 8 months

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G I R L O N

G I R L ?

Hermione J. Granger x Reader

Request: indeed

Summary: upon accidentally witnessing Cho and Ginny making out, you and your friend Hermione grow curious as to the concept of doing something with other girls and decide to experiment ;)

Warnings: swearing; scissoring; top!reader; bottom!Hermione; fingering (her receiving); loss of virginity ig

Word Count: 2.9K+

"Have you written your essay on bezoars yet?" you asked suddenly, disturbing the quiet library air.

"Yes. Now, don't tell me you want me to write one for you-"

"I'm not Ron," you interjected, slightly insulted. "I was just wondering which points you covered in order to write three feet on it."

"Oh. Sorry. I just- Ron's really getting to me, y'know. I mean, he always has, but couldn't he just- just- oh, I don't know."

You posture softened at the desperation in her voice. "Do you still like him?"

"No, no, none of that... if I'm being completely honest- Can I be completely honest? If there's anyone I can tell, it's you." You nodded. "He... I used to find him attractive, you know. Like, I thought about it and about- well, you know what, but now it just... he has no appeal and he's still a blithering idiot, so really, there's nothing left to like. Oh, does that make me awful?"

"No, love," you consoled immediately, "not at all. If it weren't for Harry, I'd say maybe you've just grown too far apart. C'mon, let's talk about this some more in the privacy of our room. I think I've still got some sweets from Honeydukes?" You smiled warmly and she gladly agreed.

•••

The two of you laughed at the unfortunate victim of one of the twins' pranks who was sitting rather unhappily in the hallway, Hermione albeit a little ruefully.

"Oh! I forgot my textbook in the Transfiguration classroom, I almost forgot. Can we quickly-"

"Sure. It's just around the corner, anyway."

You lay an arm around her shoulders and she wrapped hers around your waist, the both of you ambling along in comfortable silence.

"Alright, I'll be just a second," she said, letting go of you and heading to the classroom.

"Yeah- 'Mione?" you questioned, a tad concerned. She stood with the door ajar, frozen in place, staring inside.

"What's wrong?" you asked again, but she didn't bother replying. A little on edge, you moved behind her, staring over her head to see what had captivated her.

Inside the classroom, Ginny Weasley pushed Cho Chang against a desk, a firm grasp on her ass as they welded their lips together in beautiful sync.

You weren't as shocked, perhaps, as Hermione, but your eyes went wide and you could hardly force your gaze off the two of them. Your lips parted involuntarily and you hardly noticed the way your friend's body was pressing flush against yours.

Ginny began trailing kisses down Cho's jaw, the latter moaning out her name as if god herself was doing this to her. She grasped the hem of the red-head's shirt and just as she was about to pull it over her head-

Hermione closed the door and locked it with a charm simple enough to beat with Alohamora.

She turned and only then did you realise how close you were, foreheads almost touching, hips pressed against each other. You quickly stepped back.

"W-What was that?" she asked shakily, gulping when we heard a carnal groan from the other side of the door and casting a quick silencing charm to their benefit, too.

"I'd say it was pretty clear what that was," you replied, unsure as to what she wanted to hear.

"Yes, but- but they're girls. Both of them." You could see her trembling, wondered why this bothered her so much.

"Well, yeah. I haven't really heard much about it, either, but I don't see why it's a bad thing."

"No- No, I'm not saying that. I think my second aunt Marie was a lesbian, or at least my mother thinks so, but they're so... so close to our age and- and-"

You cupped her face in your palms, looking her in the eye in an attempt to gift her some sort of comfort.

"It's okay. You don't have to feel that way or feel challenged by it or- alternatively, if that's what you're worried about, if you share that sentiment, you don't have to be ashamed of that, either."

"Right," she breathed, calming, but much to your confusion, her legs were still shaking. "Do you... Do you ever think about girls like that?"

The question caught you thoroughly off guard and you noticed with mild surprise that while you never thought of boys sexually, you had never really considered girls.

"I... I haven't, but..."

Before you could stop yourself, you began imagining things, and you almost slapped yourself when an erotic painting of Hermione, a naked mess of moaning limbs in your bed, came to mind.

"But what?" She stared at you inquiringly, and that image of her letting you fuck her only took on more detail.

"Well, I could imagine... some girls are pretty hot, I mean."

"Yes. Yes, that's true... Would you- Let's just go to our dorm."

You nodded hurriedly and you made your way to the Gryffindor common room, although this time keeping your hands to yourself, in a silence that was not so much unpleasant as thick.

Brown waves splayed across your pillows, her back arched and nipples perked-

Stop it.

Her toes curled, fingers grasping the bedsheet as she cries out for you, she needs you, she needs more-

Stop it!

Hermione, so vulnerable before you, core throbbing, clenching around your fingers, so wet the slick runs down her thighs-

No.

You shook your head as if that would help. Hermione wasn't looking in your direction and you considered - just for a split second - whether the same thoughts were plaguing her mind. But surely not. Hermione wasn't like that. She wouldn't.

Eventually you arrived at your shared dorm (together with Lavender and Parvati). Much to your surprise, she whirled around, a look of studious determination on her face you knew all too well.

"...Yes?"

"Okay, I- I've thought about it. I think these things need to be tried out, you know? Just to see if they work."

"Oh, I think they work," you smirked, but she only glared. "Okay, fine. What are you suggesting? That we make out and see if we find it better than our experiences with boys?"

"Well, if you put it that way... Yes. I think it would be a beneficial experiment for both of us. You know - broadening our horizons. I wasn't particularly attracted to Viktor, necessarily, and you said your attempts at - you know what - sort of failed with Dean, so maybe..."

"Maybe we would be better off with another girl?"

"Girl on girl?" she affirmed, and the images of her flooded back.

"Yeah, okay, well- Do you want to prepare or...," you trailed off half-heartedly, fearing this might be awkwarder than necessary considering how you had worked up to it.

To underline one important thing; You couldn’t believe in the least what was happening. You were almost certain you were dreaming. And yet… her hot breath on your skin felt so life-like.

"No, now's probably best, Parvati and Lavender will probably be in Hogsmeade until this evening.

Deciding waiting wouldn't improve the atmosphere at all, you simply dove in.

Your lips crashed against hers and a moment later she reciprocated, her movements a little sloppy but otherwise pleasant. More than pleasant. Electricity seemed to be sparking between you, a force that drove you to push her back against the door to gain more friction.

With half a mind to just risk being caught, you pointed your wand at the door from the inside of your pocket and muttered colloportus and silencio.

Hermione’s hands clasped behind the nape of your neck, the kiss morphing to open-mouthed movements as she whimpered, your hands roaming the curves of her waist and finally grasping her ass.

You noticed as a dull sort of side-note that it all came naturally. Not once had your fingers ventured like this over the curves of a woman’s body, not once had you arched your back in just the right way to press your body flush against another female one, not any of it. But it came like second nature, just like a first kiss, where you formerly wonder if you’ll know how to even move properly.

“More,” Hermione whispered frantically, only urging you further to drag your lips along her jaw, hardly coming up for air.

“More what, sweetheart?”

She expressed a high-pitched moan that told you everything, but you needed to hear it.

“Use your big words for me, love,” you purred, and with a groan she managed ‘you’.

“I thought you only wanted to make out?”

“G-God, I need you. I’ve never felt like this before, I can barely stand- my legs- my legs-“ You sucked on the sweet spot below her collar bone that you could still reach without taking off her shirt.

“Hm… I think these’ll be getting in the way, then,” you nodded at her attire, and she sank along the door in need of rest, sitting on the floor with her legs spread wide before her.

“Do it for me, (y/n). Please,” she whimpered, and you couldn’t help but obey.

You slowly sunk to her height, crouching before her, starting by pulling off the tie loosely hanging around her neck (she only allowed such slack in herself on weekends) and then opening button after button on her shirt.

You continued to undo her slowly, her legs spreading wider and wider as if welcoming you in, raking her fingers over the carpet in an attempt to ground herself.

You finally pulled off her shirt and Hermione gasped as you ripped off her skirt in one swift motion. Her fingers grabbed at your hair instead and you could already feel the slight scratches on your scalp.

Her shoes and leggings were discarded carelessly and finally you could stare at her in nothing but her white lacy panties and a frilly white bra, not to mention the matching socks. If you hadn’t already known she was a virgin, you might have noticed at the sheer innocence of her arms covering her torso half-heartedly and the dark patch - ever-growing - in her white underwear.

“I-I’m not- I know I don’t look perfect, I… I don’t exercise much and I know my breasts are-“

You shushed her with a passionate kiss in which you hoped to share even a magnitude of how beautiful you found her. She moulded her lips against yours with just as much ferocious attraction.

“You wanna see me, too?” you asked quietly and she nodded immediately.

With hardly a second’s thought, hoping Hermione might be too hot and bothered to care how you looked or notice all the things you were insecure about, you pulled off your shirt, pants, shoes, and socks, finally leaving you in your underwear as well, although a tad more simple and certainly more black.

“You- You’re- You’re gorgeous,” she stuttered, eyes widened.

“Thank you, darling, but if I may continue,” you taunted, expertly undoing her bra (which, lucky for you, opened at the front) with your teeth, a skill you were most surprised you possessed, considering you had definitely done no such thing before.

“That’s, uh, that’s hot,” she murmured, panting slightly as you sucked on her left nipple, rolling the other in between your fingers. Your tongue traced a spiral around her nip and eventually you were massaging both of her tits as your mouth wandered further down, placing open-mouthed kisses and hickeys along her sides and abdomen.

“Oh, my God,” she whined, throwing her head back with closed eyes.

“It’s not God who’s doing this to you, love,” you teased, smiling into her as you finally reached her clothed pussy. The wet stain was dark and sweat beaded on every patch of skin, but you wouldn’t assume, you wouldn’t dare.

Stopping, your eyes flicked up to look at Hermione, the brunette needing a moment to realise why you had stopped.

“Please, I need you,” she groaned, and that was confirmation enough.

You ripped her panties clean in half in desperation, taking only two seconds to examine her pretty cunt and press your lips once to each inner thigh, diving two fingers into her without warning.

She moaned loudly, a sound so crazed and pleasurable you were glad only you could hear it. Then again, if Lavender and Parvati walked in on you both, they - and probably the rest of the school - would always know she was yours…

But she wasn’t yours.

This thought angered you more than anything could have in the foreseeable future, encouraging your fingers even more-so to pound into her at an ungodly speed. Her whines matched your pace, a girlish sound escaping her every time her back hit the wooden door.

“Am I fucking you good, ‘Mione? Better than Viktor could’ve?” You weren’t sure where the confidence came from or how you knew what words to choose to almost drive your friend over the edge, but the risk of her being put off by them vanished into thin air when her pathetic moans only grew louder.

“Much,” she squeaked between thrusts. You could feel her walls clenching around your fingers, climax ebbing just one more lick of your thumb over her clit away, all so close, so close, trembling, yelling your name, unspeakable sounds-

You pulled out of her and licked your lips. Slowly, taking your time as she stared at you in utter horror. Obviously, she was new to a little something called edging.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” you cooed, swiping up the last of her juices with your tongue. She was so wet it was pooling on the floor.

“You- You- How could you!? I’ve never came before and you just took-“

“C’m’ere,” you offered, standing and sitting down with open legs open on your bed. “I wanted to try something. This is supposed to be an experiment, right?”

She flushed so deeply red you considered calling it something else.

“If there’s one thing I did learn from Dean, it’s that an orgasm is always better if you’ve been denied one several times. Don’t worry, I won’t make it several times,” you promised, seeing the look on her face. “But, because we’re two females, which was the point of this whole exercise, I thought we should try doing something you can’t do with a dick.”

You took a moment to stare at her, let your hungry eyes roam as you licked your lips. There she lay, leaning against the door for support, legs spread incredibly wide, liquid spilling out of her, coating her inner thighs, cunt tensing around nothing, nipples perked, trembling, panting, hair a mess, a slight smudge of her mascara.

Almost how you had imagined it. Only better.

“What’s that?” she asked, with the same kind of intrigue she had when examining a bowtruckle.

“Well, we both have cunts-“

“(Y/n)! Don’t use that word!”

“Why not? It describes something so pretty,” you countered, nodding at her pussy, and she blushed anew.

“We could try… I don’t know, rubbing them together or something. It’s not like it can go wrong. If it doesn’t work, I’ll fuck you like that again and you can cum, I’m getting the hang of it, I think. Please. For the love of science?”

“We’re going to a magic school,” she teased, standing up shakily and making her way towards your bed.

“Well, that certainly felt like magic, hon’.”

She smiled shyly, letting herself down with one leg over yours on the red covers, watching closely as your sexes edged closer.

“Okay, just…”

The effect was immediate, and you weren’t prepared for feeling so good yourself.

Your gaze flicked back and forth between the squirming mess where your bodies connected, soaked to the brim, and this beautiful woman as naked as anything, jaw dropped in concentration and pleasure.

“F-Fuck,” she cried out, tensing yet again. On any other occasion you would have teased her for using a ‘bad word’, but now wasn’t the time.

Your stomach was doing somersaults. Your lungs burned with the effort of humping against her. Your legs had about as much idea of where they were as a bear in the Sahara desert.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, ‘Mione,” you groaned, a guttural noise that had her throw her head back. No answer met your comment but high-pitched ‘ah’s strung an unstoppable melody from her mouth.

You were so close, she was tensing, so close, so close, so close-

You both came simultaneously, a mess of limbs as she climbed over you to slump on your body, flush against you. After what you had just seen the other do, there was no more shame. Yet, perhaps.

“Oh, God, that was so good,” she whined, almost bumping your abdomen at the mere thought.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to answer, simply pulling the blanket over the two of you to keep warm. Not that the hot flush would die down any time soon.

“So, uh,” she started unsurely, at once glad she was hidden under the covers, even if her knee was at your groin and your breasts were practically entangled. “Would you say we’re attracted to other girls?”

“Fuck, ‘Mione,” you cursed, feeling the need to fuck her all over again. “Yeah. I think it’s pretty clear we’re both very capable of being attracted to other girls.”

“I thought so.”

You pulled her even closer, relished in the smell of sweat and sex and her vanilla perfume.

——————

I hope this is something like what you wanted :)

#fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #hpff #new chapter #hermione fanfiction #hermione granger #hermione x reader #x reader #oneshot #romance #smut #wlw

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hanlimz · 7 months

Text

lol i wrote this at 2am bc i love jungwon sm and i needed to word vomit so i can focus on this stupid essay i have to write 💔 be gentle w this bc it’s not that good haha !! pls enjoy ❤️

the incessant ringing of your phone is a cacophony of sound pressed against your ear as you wait with bated breath. it’s been a week since jungwon was last able to call, a week since you were able to hear his voice; and, it’s been even longer since you’ve been able to touch him (in any capacity). your palms are itching for the opportunity to cup his face, and your lips are yearning to pepper gentle kisses over the apples of his rounded cheeks.

so, you picked up your phone and clicked on his silly contact photo. while you wait, you count the ceiling tiles. you see how long you can go without blinking. you lose track of time, and you eventually try to freestyle over the stock ringtone. just as you rhyme sublime with you’re mine, the noise stops and jungwon begins to laugh. why he always manages catches you at your worst—you will never know.

“i hope that rap was about me,” he snorts airily, amusement having stolen his breath away. you can almost see his pretty face through the phone; the way the corners of his lips quirk up, his dimple deepening, the gentle reshaping of his eyes as they wane into two, umber crescents. laughter is so transformative, and you’re glad you can see it (even if only in your mind). “oh, [y/n], also—i just posted some selcas on we—” the phone cuts out, and the momentary silence slices at your heart.

“won? you still there?” you ask, tentatively, “i promise the rap was about you. cross my heart, hope to die.”

jungwon’s pseudo-presence floods your chest once more as he chuckles. “that’s good to know, babe—but, no dying on my watch, ‘kay?”

“bold of you to say when you’ve left me here,” you scoff.

“to die?” he inquires, another bout of giggles hiding behind his words.

“to die,” you answer, dramatically. “to wither, to waste away with no boyfriend to sing me to sleep and kiss me when i’m sad.”

the line goes quiet for a few seconds, and it’s almost a comfortable silence. something lurks behind this pregnant pause, however, and you can’t help but feel stifled by the heavy weight building in your stomach. jungwon is overthinking—the feeling is palpable. he’s chewing on his bottom lip and you can almost taste his vanilla chapstick; the nail of his thumb is worn down to the quick in the same way he’s bitten at the inside of his cheek.

“jungwon, you know i’m just joking, right?” there’s a hint of regret lacing your voice, a tinge of melancholy, but it mixes with a resolute affirmation of your love for him. “i miss you, but i couldn’t be more proud of you. watching those clips of you on stage, seeing you enjoy yourself—it all makes me love you even more. you’re doing so well.”

“i know,” he sighs, sounding exceedingly dejected. “i just feel like i can’t give you what you need—like i can’t be who you deserve from this far away.”

your jaw goes slack upon hearing his confession. his words shock you to your core; strong-willed yet so fragile-hearted, why your lover is so critical of himself—you will never know. in your eyes, jungwon is nothing short of angelic; ethereal in a way only known by beings of the heavens, jungwon brightens every room he walks into and makes your day better by merely existing. he is a sanctuary of sorts—warm and inviting and gentle.

“are you insane?” the question tumbled from your mouth before your brain could formulate a better response.

he hums, inquisitively, “i don’t think so?”

“okay, not exactly how i wanted that to come out,” you concede, “but—seriously, won—you’re my everything. you never have to worry about me wanting more, because you’re already who i want. who i need. and, honestly, i don’t know what i did to deserve you.” you know he’s flushed on the other side of the phone, cupping a sweater paw over his face while trying not to giggle and swing his feet like a schoolgirl. “yang jungwon, i love you very much, and i’m always so, so thankful for you … so, tell your brain to stop beating you up, or i’ll kick its slimy, little ass.”

“thank you, [y/n]. i love you, too.” he laughs for a moment, then stops himself, “wait—did you just say my brain was little?!”

#enhypen fluff #enhypen reactions #enha fluff #jungwon fluff #; — cass writes: soft n sweet #enhypen imagines #enhypen jungwon #enha x reader #jungwon reactions #jungwon imagines #jungwon headcanons #enhypen x reader #jungwon x reader

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meraki-yao · 6 months

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RWRB: A list of thoughts on the Campfire Scene

Ok I went to sleep for another hour to calm myself down and now I can form coherent thoughts about the scene and not just scream and squeal

It's a three-minute scene with two shots. The first shot is a little over two minutes

When Alex asks his question, Henry, who was looking into the fire, tilts his head towards Alex as if to listen better. After Alex finishes, Henry looks up towards the sky, like he's wondering how to answer

Alex doesn't really react to Henry's "Once upon a time" even though he's not directly answering Alex's question. He just listens, and that's such a beautiful thing

Nick deserves a round of applause for this scene, his monologue was two minutes long, and monologues are really hard to perform because it's just you who keeps talking, you don't really get to react to other things or people, it's just you, so Nick is a fantastic job

Nick's delivery and tone, and the way he sometimes ends a sentence a bit like a question (ex: "acutely") makes it sound like Henry's been thinking about this story/ metaphor for a while but this is the first time he ever verbalizes it, so while he knows what he wants to talk about thus he doesn't need to pause a lot to think of the story, he does occasionally need to think of the next word or line because again, he never actually said any of this out loud before, and Nick does that so well

@pippin-katz pointed out that Nick misspoke and said "sent the suit a prince of armour" which is hilarious, and while because movie, this shouldn't happen, realistically we all have moments where we mix words up so it almost feels more... authentic? Also, I didn't pick it up but now that Pippin mentioned it I'm really aware of it lmao

Also Henry/Nick's voice here is so soothing? I can almost imagine him telling bedtime stories to his and Alex's kids like this in the future. I wonder if Henry would write children's books because it feels like it'd be something he do and something he could write really well, if this clip is anything to go by. Plus I stumbled across an audio of Nick reading "The Emperor's New Clothes" before (I literally have no context of why he was reading that and it was literally just audio, not sure if I can find it anymore) and it was so soothing and calming that I fell asleep to it one night. Besides the full-cast RWRB audiobook that I'm practically demanding at this point, I wonder if he would be interested in doing more audiobook/narration stuff. He's really got the voice for it

The King sending a suit of armour to protect the prince's heart kind of further proves my point of the King being a much more loving grandparent to Henry than the queen in the book, and him worrying more about Henry himself than the image of the crown. He noticed that 1, Henry is an emotionally sensitive person, 2, Henry is gay, and both of those things could be turned against him easily, and he will get hurt. He does love Henry, just not in a way that's good for Henry. If we get a sequel I do hope we can see them reconcile in one way or another. It'd be a nice example for people in the same positions.

The "Nothing will ever happen to him" line!!!! I wrote a whole essay about Kensington and this line because somehow this line was one of the most powerful ones to me, but to know that it was originally Henry's word just adds another level of pain to the Kensington scene

You can see Henry's face light up when he starts talking about the peasant boy. And Alex's quick eyebrow raise and deep chuckle. It's so beautiful, I wanna cry

We talk about Alex's heart eyes, which, yes, but Henry's look of pure adoration and love at Alex when he says "Truly Alive" makes me want to melt

I yelled a little at Alex when he started to lay back down (as in I verbally shouted "DAMMIT ALEX LOOK AT YOUR MAN") because I felt like if Alex saw Henry's face in the following lines he'd figure out Henry has issues earlier? But then I saw a take saying the shot was framed like theatre where Henry's both centre stage and in the spotlight so the focus is on him, so Alex was designed to lay back down on the timber bench to make the entire space for Henry

Henry's look of sad longing when he talks about the peasant boy pulling apart his armor is heartbreaking

I wonder if this was originally planned to be the changing point from Alex's POV to Henry's POV? Because in that case I do think the lake scene worked better as a changing point

I also wonder how did Henry end the story in his head up to this point? Because as hopefully as the last line is, at this point in the story, Henry still doesn't believe he can keep this

I get why scenes are cut because when you're putting together a movie, there are a lot of things you don't see for individual scenes until you put them together. This is why as much as I want the cast and crew to get the premiere they deserve to have, I don't really want an extended cut of the movie, because things were cut for a good reason

That being said, if the cornetto scene and this scene proved anything, is that the scenes themselves are fascinating, and I WANT THEM ALL

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #firstprince #nicholas galitzine #taylor zakhar perez #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry hanover stuart fox #rwrb thoughts #rwrb deleted scene #my rwrb list

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lostmyremembrall · 1 year

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I love Tom Riddle and I was hoping you could write a one shot where someone (you can choose who) breaks y/n's heart and Tom comforts her? If not, that's fine

𝓣𝓮𝓪𝓻-𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓟𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓸𝓼

𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑛!𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒, 𝐶𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑒𝑑!𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒

“Y/N,” Tom leaned against the heavy door and knocked.

He glanced down at his tattered watch, noting the time 20:57. He huffed out a sigh of irritation. Of course, Y/N was late. It was precisely why he came to their door at 8:55pm instead of the agreed-upon time of 8:30pm. But, apparently, 30 minutes was still not big enough of a leeway for Y/N.

“Y/N,” he spoke louder, ready to slam his palm repeatedly against the door once again, when the door swung open inside.

He lost his balance with the abruptness, though he would never admit it. But, Y/N was nowhere to be found in front of him. He further lowered his gaze to find the concerned eyes of Christina Greengrass, a few inches shorter than Y/N.

“Y/N’s…,” she bit her lip. Tom raised his brows to urge her on. He would love to hear an excuse good enough to keep him waiting this long.

“Y/N’s not feeling well,” she chose her words carefully, casting a meaningful glance towards where he assumed Y/N was. She tiptoed towards Tom, who bent his head in response, and whispered. “McLaggen’s cheated on them, you see.”

Tom had to suppress his temptation to groan. Love. When was it ever not about love in this hormonal, teenager-filled castle?

Greengrass somehow seemed to interpret his weary nods as pity, and nudged him into the room. Without giving much notice to his protesting eyes, she closed the door behind him with a quiet thud.

He sighed deeply and looked around himself. Though he had never been in the girl’s dormitory before, it was easy to spot Y/N’s bed.

The curtains of the far-right four-poster bed were closed. On the floor was a torn photo of Y/N with McLaggen, smiling at the camera. Perhaps the most evident was the constant sobbing that came from the withdrawn curtains.

“Y/N,” Tom stepped further into the room, careful as to not step on the used tissues that scattered around the bed. “Do you want to meet up another time?” he breathed out over the curtain.

“That– that might be best,” the voice came from behind in between the sobs. Tom was certain the curtain shook with the sharp inhale.

“Feel better,” Tom murmured in a voice so quiet he wasn’t sure they heard it over the sobbing.

“I’m, I’m so–, sorry, Tom.”

It was the shaky voice overridden with guilt that caused him to stop in his track. He turned around, watching a hand appear from in between the curtains, blindly searching for the tissue box.

The 6 feet essay for potions. The Transfiguration tutoring he was going to give Abraxas at 9:30. The patrol following that.

To put it simply, Y/N being an emotional wreck was the last thing he needed tonight.

Still, he found his feet carrying him back to their bed. He grabbed the tissue box on the bedside table, and held it within Y/N’s reach. Soon enough, their fingers found the soft texture of the tissue paper and snatched it from the box.

“Thanks,” a pitiful sob came as the hand disappeared behind the curtain once again.

“Don’t mention it,” Tom’s strained voice managed to say. He stood for awhile, unsure of what he was supposed to do next.

When he perched at the end of the bed, causing the mattress to creek underneath his weight, there was an abrupt silence as the sobbing stopped. The only sound that echoed in the empty room was the sudden bursts of their heaving breaths.

“You’re hyperventilating, Y/N,” he pointed out, observing the tissue box still in his hands. His limbs frigid against the shaking tremor coming from Y/N’s way. “Take a deep breath.”

He turned his head towards them when only silence responded. But, soon enough, there was the whoosh of a long, quiet exhale. It seemed to have calmed them down immensely, as the sobbing quieted down.

Tom’s eyes landed on McLaggen, staring up at him smugly as Y/N gave a peck on his cheek.

“He was always a git,” he mumbled, glaring at the man. He never interacted with him; with him being a Gryffindor keeper, there was little opportunity for Tom to get to know him. But, he knew enough that the way McCLaggen carried himself got on his nerves. That was enough of a reason for Tom to never approach him.

Y/N, however, seemed less fortunate in that circumstance.

“My friends said the same thing about my ex.” Tom could hear them forcing out laughter in between the sniffle, “apparently I have a pattern.”

He couldn’t argue against that. Y/N had an incredible track record of dating pricks, as far as he was aware.

“Sometimes, I wonder, Tom,” Tom perked up his ears, brought out of his stupor counting the list of Y/N’s exes. “I wonder if I had tried harder... That this keeps happening because there’s–, there’s…”

“Something wrong with me,” Their voice broke, and a hand reached out of the curtains again, blindly searching for the tissue.

As Tom opted for sticking the tissue box in between the curtain opening, Y/N was continuing to stare at the smiling face of McLaggen in the torn-up photo through teary eyes.

No matter how much you cried, McLaggen did not reveal the answer why, but continued to stare back at you with that same old smile.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” a quiet voice sounded from the other side of the curtain.

You raised your head at the calm voice of Tom, your eyes blinking rapidly in disbelief that he, the cold-blooded recluse who never showed interest in anything close to relationship drama, was listening.

“But,” he continued. “The problem may lie in your subconscious preference for people who don’t appreciate you enough.”

Tears welled in the corner of your eyes again at his words. It was true.

“I never learn. I always end up here, alone. Crying,” your voice croaked out before it was submerged under the tidal wave of sobs again.

There was a quiet thud on the mattress. You lowered your eyes to find a large hand, placed subtly in between the opening of the curtain. In the golden light that streamed in through the opening, his hand looked paler than usual.

Worried that Tom was planning on opening the curtain, Y/N hastily wiped away the tears.

For a brief second, his long fingers straightened, just to curl again into the elegant curves of a relaxed hand. Gesturing in a silent invitation.

Y/N’s eyes followed the hand to the wrist, a tattered leathered watch wrapped around it signifying well past 9:20. But, the arm clad in the Slytherin blazer disappeared behind the thick cloth, rendering the hand’s owner invisible. It was impossible to tell what was going through Tom’s mind.

Still, the hand waited patiently, placed within the reach of your hand.

You hesitated, before placing your hand in his. Slowly, but surely, his fingers curled again, pulling your hand further into his.

It was nice, you noticed, as tears started pouring uncontrollably again. It was nice to have someone with you, to just sit next to you and hold your hand.

You squeezed the hand in return. Needless to say, Tom sat with you for a very long time that night. He just sat there, holding your hand as tears continued to stream down your cheeks. He didn’t say much, save for occasionally asking if you wanted McLaggen gone, hexed, or his reputation tarnished.

It took a few weeks, by which point, you’d mostly moved on from McLaggen, for a rumour to spread that McLaggen had apparently been expelled on the grounds of illegal tradings in sanctioned magical creatures from the preserve.

You never dated a cheater after that. It was as if any man or woman with an ill reputation had disappeared from your world, never to approach you in the first place. Sometimes, on your daily stroll with Olivia, in a classroom, or in the library, your gaze wandered towards Tom Riddle, a recluse as ever with his head buried in books, wondering if he had any part in it.

But, you never mustered the courage to ask.

A/N: I know there's a weird perspective change... but I really wanted to show Tom's heartfelt gesture as a surprise. Hope you enjoyed!

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #tom riddle #tom riddle fic #tmr #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine #harry potter #tom riddle x gn!reader #harry potter fanfiction #tom riddle romance #tom riddle fanfic #Karenina's requests #tom riddle au #tom riddle fluff

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magnorious · 2 months

Text

Pixar’s Cars is still way better than people give it credit for

Am I writing an essay on a kids movie that fell out of relevance after the last sequel seven years ago? Yes. Is it my favorite background animated movie to put on whenever I’m working? Yes.

It goes without saying that Pixar’s catalog is still topped by movies like Incredibles, Toy Story 2, Up, Inside Out, Finding Nemo, Ratatouille, etc. Cars sat at the bottom of Pixar’s “best of” list until its sequel came out and people realized how bad Pixar movies could actually be.

But you know what? I love Cars. Is the story as deep and moving and profound as some of the others? No. But it was made with love and after what feels like the past 8 years of resounding “meh” coming from Hollywood and some of the most shameless cash grabs pretending they’re not, Cars remains my feel-good movie. It doesn’t have that classic Pixar “cry your eyes out” moment, no dead parents, no chosen ones, decently low stakes. It’s a good time, anytime.

Why I’m writing this now, though, is because of this: I knew already that the King and Chick were based off real racers, and Lightning’s “McQueen” is another homage, but I looked up if Doc was also based on a famous racer during my last rewatch and found this on Wikipedia:

Doc’s car model, the Hudson Hornet, was manufactured from 1951-1953 for its original run. In 1954, its manufacturer merged with another company and the Hornet was heavily remodeled to boost sales, only the popularity of the car never recovered. It stayed in production until ‘57. It was used in racing and that’s where Doc’s paint job in the finale draws inspiration.

But do you remember what his backstory is? 3 back-to-back Piston Cups from ‘51-’53, a crash in ‘54 that saw him rebuilt, and obsolescence upon his return.

People complain that they “didn’t need to be cars” in this movie. They’re not like the toys in Toy Story where the plot and message depends on them not being human. They’re not like the fish in Finding Nemo. They could have just been humans who drive race cars and it raises more questions than it answers.

You are wrong, Sir.

Doc’s backstory is why they had to be cars. They aren’t human because the story depends on them being machines – as Cars 3 explores more deeply. A human endurance runner can train to be the fastest, running against other humans with the same chances at success (ignoring steroids and socioeconomic opportunity). Humans aren’t running foot races against mutants or aliens where, no matter what we do, we will lose by nature of what we are.

Cars do. A car model is beholden to its manufacturing and all the complications that come with it. Cars are objects that, like toys, have obsolescence built into them. There is no “outdated” way to run a foot race.

So yes, Doc has a Tragic Backstory(tm) but it’s not just that he was some great master at the top of his game once that faded from glory like any human who got too old. He’s a car, and no matter how good he was, how many Piston Cups he won, the powers that be that made newer models with better mileage and efficiency and mechanics were always going to dethrone him.

The movie isn’t about him, though, it’s about another rookie. A rookie who lives life in the fast lane and thinks his time in the spotlight is never going to end when Doc can look at him and know exactly how wrong he is. Lightning is a race car too and, regardless of the existence of Cars 3, Lightning will also inevitably become obsolete no matter what he does to fight it.

I doubt the writers were going for this when they wrote it but that they’re machines is also a criticism of how we treat celebrities. Lightning is an entertaining story until the next shiny starlet emerges and, through no fault of his own, he’s kicked to the curb for the “new”. And that new will be cast aside for the next new and so on and so forth and the only winner is the greedy producer making money off their cash cow until they drain it dry.

Yes, the movie is about appreciating life and the things that you do have and “the friends we made along the way” but that they’re machines matters. Had they all been human, the movie would have lost half its message, and half the tragedy. If they were human driving cars, Doc wasn’t written with a disability so he could have, in theory, hopped back behind the wheel of a new car and still won against younger drivers. He’s not human, he’s a car, and he isn’t built to go as fast as newer models.

Age affects everyone, but a world made by machines that pits machines against other machines in an endurance test is inherently rigged when the machinery being tested can always improve.

It is unfortunate that both Doc and the King go out in wrecks (even though the poetry is nice) and the story doesn’t explore the existential obsolescence of being a machine designed to only do so well and be improved upon – even Lightning still has to wreck out of his big race in Cars 3 before he starts losing to the newer models.

But maybe having a Cars movie that does explore the existential obsolescence of a machine might have gone over kids’ heads. Or, maybe not? They pulled off some very mature themes in Incredibles with marriage problems and presumed infidelity that kids probably didn’t understand but still knew was not good for the characters.

Not to mention all the other wonderful details in this movie: The car-pun cities on all the license plates, the tire tracks in the sky and car-shaped natural phenomena, all the creative sponsoring brands on the racers.

How the “Life is a Highway” montage hits you over and over again with a straight road that cuts through the winding nature (the snaking river, the mountains sliced open to make room), industry that stops for nothing and scars everything in its path.

If you haven’t watched this movie in a while, do yourself a favor and find time to do so.

#disney pixar #pixar #pixar cars #cars

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thecoolblackwaves · 2 months

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🍄

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

Haha you picked the best one! I could write essays on my headcanons (but I won't today)

So, I think it's pretty clear that Maemags is one of my favorite pairings in Silm Fandom. I just love those two pointy-eared, kinslaying, orphan-creating-then-adopting brothers! I headcanon that they rest curled up and piled on top of each other like cats. I often associate Elves with cats and other creatures in my mind, and I find it so fun and interesting to give them some beast-like non-human features! Maglor straight up uses Maedhros as a mattress, and sometimes a chair. He likes to tuck his head into the crook of his neck so he can listen to his pulse. Maedhros likes that Maglor sleeps so close to him because it means they can protect each other better, plus his little brother is so pretty and with soft hair and skin and he smells good and-

To them, and to me, it's very sweet, but I imagine that a lot of folks who happen to spy them sleeping get a bit weirded out (especially if they don't know about their romantic relationship, and sometimes even if they do). There is zero space in between them. Every inch of their bodies press together. Maglor is buried so far into his brother's neck that it looks like he can't fully breathe, and Maedhros grips Maglor so tightly it has to hurt. They're sickly sweet with each other upon waking, lots of kissing and nuzzling and petting -- a stark contrast to their usual demeanor in public. There's something about the close proximity, the privacy of their dark chambers, their synced breathing that makes them feel extra close.

Also I know Elves don't typically sleep in the same way that humans do, but I sub-headcanon that the sons of Feanor all require more and deeper rest than typical because of the effects of the Oath. It strains on their feär. Particularly Maedhros and Maglor, the older they get and the worse they do, they require more rest. It's a very vulnerable position to be in so that's why they cuddle close and guard each other.

Thank you @aquaregiaarts for the ask!!!

#reading this and realizing i really love compound words for aome reason #hope you like this answer!#thank you so much for the ask 😁#maemags #headcanons #my writing #tolkien #ask #aquaregiaarts

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ensnapemysenses · 2 years

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Can you write some smut. where y/n (his girlfriend) come to in his poition classroom where he correct some student's tests and wanna take him to dinner. But severus tell her that he need correct this tests first. Without hesitation she crawl under his desk and starts blow job. After a while someone knock on the door, it's Minerva and she need something and y/n hear her but she don't stop.Severus is very good in self-control so y/n starts sucking harder and Minerva wanna talk and she doesnt want to leave. The end is uo to you ...hahaha it's verry funny in my head. thank you. love you.

Meddlesome Minerva

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Snape x Reader, fem reader

Warnings: blowjob, cursing, NSFW below the cut!, 18+ only!, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 1,223

Masterlist

A/N: I decided to take this request and write it in the third person instead of my usual second person. I thought it would be a good chance to better focus on Severus and his perspective with this request! I really like how it turned out! :)

It’s Saturday night and instead of relaxing, Severus is grading exams. His quill furiously drags across the parchment as he corrects the student’s answers. The end of term is rapidly approaching and he’s got a lot to do to get caught back up with his classes. He’s in autopilot mode; not giving much thought to how he grades the exams since he’s very strict with what he considers correct and offers no leniency. More than anything he just to be done with all his grading. His eyes lazily skim the papers, dropping slightly more closed as the night goes on.

Severus is awakened from his dissociative state by a light tapping on his door. He looks up, slightly shaking his head as he comes back to reality, and mutters to himself about how much work he still has to do. He doesn’t say anything in return to the knocking instead he gives his wand a little flick and the door swings open at his command. Upon seeing his girlfriend enter, he shoots her a small smile before returning back to his work.

“Sev, why don’t you take a break? We could go into Hogsmede for a dinner date. I heard The Three Broomsticks have a new item on their menu and it sounds tasty,” she says, stepping behind his chair where he is seated at his desk and giving his shoulders a quick squeeze.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I really can’t go anywhere tonight. I need to focus on getting these exams graded. Grades have to be submitted by Monday and I have only completed my first-fourth years,” he sighs, shaking his head. He would love to spend some time with her tonight and a dinner date sounds delightful, but he must finish his work lest his job be on the line. Returning to his work, he doesn’t notice as she cunningly slides under his desk, that is until he feels her begin to fiddle with his trousers.

“What in Merlin's name are you doing?” he questions, scooting back in his seat and glancing down at her to see that she has uncovered his cock from the confines of his pants and is smiling at him devilishly. The cold of the dungeon classroom is not very comfortable, but the sight of her causes his penis to stand erect.

She doesn’t respond, instead, she slowly takes him into her mouth, her eyes peering up at him as she does so. Severus lets out a sharp breath of air and he almost drops his quill, but he’s not going to give her the satisfaction of watching him come undone. Not yet.

He quickly composes himself and gets back to work on his essays to try and distract himself from what is occurring down below. Several times, a moan almost escapes his lips as she begins circling his tip with her tongue, but he manages to keep his lips sealed.

Seconds later, a loud knock on his classroom door causes (Y/N) to stop suddenly, but just for a moment. “Can’t you stop until they are gone! We don’t know who that is!” Severus whispers, but his girlfriend doesn’t stop though she does slow her pace a bit. Severus coughs to clear his throat. “Come in,” he drawls as if he isn’t inches away from getting the life sucked out of him.

“Good evening, Severus. Is everything okay? I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t at dinner this evening,” Minerva states as she walks up to Snape’s desk.

Snape flinches a bit as she walks closer and he has to hold back a wince as his sudden movement causes (Y/N)’s teeth to graze against his length. “E-Everything is fine, Minerva. I appreciate you being concerned about me, however, as you can see, I am occupied by the massive amount of student exams I have to grade,” he says, raising an eyebrow and gesturing towards the many piles of exams on his desk.

“Aren’t we all Severus!” Minerva chuckles, pulling up a seat in front of his desk. “I was curious as to who you think the new dark arts professor will be next year. My bet is on a vampire!”

Forcing a small smile, Severus lightly kicks his girlfriend to signal her to stop until Minerva leaves but it seems his attempt just makes her pick up the pace. He grips the quill in his hand so tight that he almost snaps it in two at her sudden increase in speed.

“I - I am in no mood to gossip with you tonight Minvera. I do apologize, but I must focus on my work. Per– Perhaps we can chat more tomorrow,” he says through gritted teeth. It’s becoming ever so more challenging for him to suppress his moans and he needs her to leave immediately or he is going to cum with her sitting right in front of him and that is something he would rather not do.

“Severus! You never pass up an opportunity to gossip with me! Are you positive there’s not something wrong with you? You do look awful flushed and you are sweating a bit. Do you need to see Madam Pomphrey? I can assist you to the infirmary if needed.”

His eyes close involuntarily at the ripple of pleasure he is experiencing, but he quickly opens them again to see Minerva looking at him very puzzled. “Oh fuck,” he mutters under his breath at the sudden change in tempo as his girlfriend adds her hand into the mix of things going on down below and he silently thanks the gods that Minerva didn’t hear his slight outburst.

“Perhaps you are correct. I am feeling a bit off tonight, maybe I’ve come down with a wizard cold of some sort,” he says faking a sneeze to cover up a moan. “Don’t worry about me though, I have a potion that I can take and I’ll be feeling better tomorrow.”

“Let me know if you need anything, my dear. I’ll leave you alone now. Have a good night, Severus,” she says as she stands, giving Snape a small smile and a nod as she exits the classroom, closing the door behind her.

“You demonic little fucker,” he whispers as he throws his head back and finally succumbs to all the pleasure he has been trying to ignore. Moaning as (Y/N) sucks him harder he begins to buck his hips and enter deeper into her throat. It feels so amazing that he is temporarily blinded as he finally reaches his climax, releasing his warm cum down her throat. She swallows every last drop and licks him clean and he whimpers due to the sensitivity as she encloses his penis back into his trousers.

Severus slides his chair back allowing her more space to climb out from underneath the desk. She’s smiling and giggling and he is scowling at her for making him use every bit of his self-restraint to not cum in front of Minerva.

“That meddlesome Minerva,” she teases. “Interrupting our playtime!”

“You are a little shit, you know that right?” he groans as he stands.“I love you, my darling, but please let’s not do something as risky as that again,” he says kissing her.

With a twinkling mischievous look in her eye, his girlfriend replies with a smirk, “We will see about that.”

#snape smut #snape x reader #severus snape smut #severus snape x reader #snape #severus snape #snapedom #pro snape #snape fandom #ensnapemysenses

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mediacircuspod · 9 months

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“The Magic Trick You Didn’t See” is an essay written by an author who is on Tumblr, user ariaste. I think it’s a very well put together argument for “The Book of Life Theory” that has merit. However, I think there might be too much editing going on. I will explain.

I want to start this by being completely honest. I’m not sold on any theories because in the past I was so incredibly wrong about countless theories on Game of Thrones that made complete sense, I swear. But also were me just making up reasons for how the story could go my way. I’m actually really into the concept of “wait and see” because it places me firmly in the seat of “audience” or “consumer” and those are, in my opinion, the best seats in the house.

So I’m not really a subscriber to the coffee theory or the book of life theory or the body switch theory, NOT because I don’t think they’re true or smart or have merit, but because I would genuinely like to “wait and see”. Even if that wait is until 2027. I waited this long for season 2, I’m not afraid of a few years for a good story.

Anyway, go read the very long, but very intelligent google doc, because even if you’re not sure about the theory, it has some REALLY cool meta, and some interesting easter eggs that you might have missed upon viewing the season the first go around, the very long document is HERE.

Alright here’s some highlights. Basically the essay is about how The Metatron could be pulling strings on Season Two with the help of “The Book of Life” for a number of reasons. Corresponding evidence being the lack of God’s narration, Maggie as a character, Eccles Cakes, and a whole lot of meticulous details. I really, really love the format of the essay too, but that’s just me being a nerd about magic tricks and “The Prestige” as a concept and as a movie.

Where I diverge on this theory is simply how liberally it is applied, as well as the use of “bad” to describe certain ways of writing. And this is where my hot take kind of lies; I don’t think Good Omens 2 was bad. On purpose or by accident. I’m not saying my opinion is right, I’m just stating that that is where my perspective comes from. Now. Let’s get into why I like this essay.

It’s so cool. And detailed. And smart. I love reading things that connect dots and describe a persons critical thought process, and wow, this essay is incredible at doing all of that. The sheer amount of information I learned from taking the time to read it gave me a lot of insight about the things I missed on my watch of the season. I found I was a lot more distracted by the Austen-esque pacing than the author of the essay who noticed things like disappearing eccles cakes, how no one else’s power went out during Crowley’s lightning storm and a load of other things. But also, being “along for the ride” made me kind of protective of the story being told. Because Season 2 isn’t the beginning, middle, and end of a story, like season 1 was. It is the “quiet, gentle, and romantic” middle of a plot sandwhich.

In any case, the essay poses quite a few things. The only major issue I have is the idea that The Book of Life can alter will, and not just situation. I don’t think Crowley or Aziraphale are changed by the Book of Life. Their actions seem distinctly them throughout the entire season, which is exactly why the season needed to end on the note it did. Obviously from a story point, we need Aziraphale to go to heaven for what I imagine is the conflict of season 3; The Second Coming. But from an internal perspective, Aziraphale’s character demanded to make that decision. It wasn’t out of character, it was distinctly in character. And yes, he could have been influenced, or manipulated, or hiding something, but he’s been affected by all of those ideas for the entirety of his existence anyway. He’s had 6000 years of The Heavenly Host manipulating him, and he’s had exactly 4 years of being on his own side(openly) with Crowley. He’s going to still be susceptible to their tactics, especially if they say exactly what he’s been wanting to hear for his whole existence. “We were wrong, and you were right.” Metatron really pulled out every stop of the proper apology except for the little dance. We were wrong about you, We were wrong about how to run things, We were wrong about Crowley. You can come back and you can bring him and you can fix everything. Crowley refusing isn’t heaven’s fault, they still offered. It’s Crowley who rejected Aziraphale. (For good reason, but that’s not what this meta is about.) I made a post about Crowley and his relationship to forgiveness HERE, if you were interested.

So maybe things were changed by the book of life, the analysis on the opening credits is amazing, like great job. But I don’t know if they were. But that’s literally just me holding onto the plot of season 2 and shouting from the top of my lungs, “ITS ACTUALLY GOOD THOUGH BECAUSE I LIKE IT AND WHAT IT SETS UP” And who knows, we might be all wrong and what actually happened is that the whole thing was a very detailed dream that Aziraphale wrote down in one of his journals.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens meta #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens 2 #go 2 spoilers #go2 spoilers #crowley #aziraphale #crowley and aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable breakup

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alagaesia-headcanons · 3 months

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There's something inherently ugly about how you ship Murtagh with Orrin. It's one thing to not like the main ship for a beloved character as set up by the author - valid - but it's another to push half of said ship away to force in your fave pasty white boy. You can write meta after meta after meta all you want about how poor Orrin is done dirty, or how that meanie Nasuada hurt him, or how the books don't put your fave background character on a pedestal, but all your writing amounts to is the fact that you've imprinted on Orrin and are now using him as a vessel for your original character. In your writing, he's not a character from the series anymore - he's your OC wearing Orrin's face and bearing Orrin's name. Which, it isn't bad to expand upon a sidelines character. But it's the way you turn around and spew how fandom fave Murtagh is in love with your OC that really shows the truth and the rot festering in you. You can cry and bemoan the romantic love Paolini has written between Murtagh and Nasuada, but your essay won't amount to jack shit if you're just going to turn around and replace Nasuada with your OC and suddenly sing it's praise.

Before you start decrying all of this, ask yourself: why are you so desperate to discredit canon's romance? It's one thing to think they should both remain single after the trauma they experienced throughout the series - fair take. But then why are you so eager to prop up your own ship? Is "Orrin" inherently more worthy of of Murtagh's love? Or is Nasuada simply not worthy, but instead in the way, in your eyes? You can wish all you want for people to love your writing, but that doesn't hide the rotten foundation of your ship: sidelining Nasuada to uplift your white fave and wanting him to have all that she does. No amount of rambling meta about how they're a "good ship" and they would work will ever cover up your inherent biases and -ism's that your poor sad white boy's ship is built upon.

For the love of god.

Anon, let me just say this to you directly- block me. It's that easy. Sending something like this instead is an embarrassment. But since you've already said your piece, I'll go ahead and say mine.

Let me first bring up what you oddly wouldn't directly accuse me of (maybe even you knew what a blatant straw man it is), that being racism. I'm not going to make light of this. Racism in fandom is a real issue, and separating a ship with a character of color to ship white characters can be a symptom of that. I have never turned a blind eye to this and I make a continual effort to remain conscious of it because it's incredibly important to me that I'm not contributing to this kind of prejudice in fandom.

This pairing started years ago when I thought of a crack ship polycule with all three of them. Over time as I considered that, the idea of shipping Murtagh and Orrin developed into a distinct concept which I found more intriguing than shipping Murtagh and Nasuada. At that point, I made an active decision to examine my interest and determine if it was grounded in the way canon presents the individual qualities and dynamics of these specific characters, independent of the broad groups any of them fall into, or if it lacked any such basis in canon and only stemmed from an unconscious bias of mine. And if I didn't find any substantial elements of canon that supported the idea, I intended to put it away and work through my bias.

So I looked, and I found I could fully explain the reasons the ship appealed to me through the details in the books. I never made some public announcement about taking this issue into full consideration because it shouldn't be performative. Holding myself accountable is a basic personal responsibility which I take seriously, not something to make me look better. But it’s always felt meaningful to simply convey that I care about putting thought and reason into my ideas and my preference for my ship isn’t baseless. I’ve done that, but it seems I should be more direct here.

So let me lay out my thought process. Why am I not interested in shipping Murtagh and Nasuada? The things that deter me personally are both emotional and logistical issues. The major emotional issue to me is how disparate their priorities are. Murtagh prioritizes protecting loved ones, which causes issues when he accepts and complies with awful acts while trying to defend them. Nasuada prioritizes the good of her cause, which causes issues when she dismisses another person’s wellbeing when it’s in the way of her goals. Murtagh’s character arc is about learning the best thing he can do for his loved ones might be accepting their willingness to make sacrifices, suggesting he becomes aware of his issue and would try to correct that going forward. However, Nasuada still doesn’t seem aware of her issue after the war, given her policy about magicians and her minimal concern for Roran, so that still presents an underlying problem that would badly exacerbate their serious trauma until it’s addressed.

None of that is a moral judgment on anything. Both of them could cause any number of other issues; it’s just stating where they stand. And I still think they could be written in a way that stays true to their characters while working through those issues so that they stay together. I think it’d be exceptionally challenging, and it still might not be to my own taste, but it has that potential. But there are also logistical issues. Nasuada is queen in Uru’baen. I genuinely feel like this is so meaningful to her character, a very fitting culmination of her aspirations, and if she were to take substantial spans away from her throne, it would be a disservice to how she was written. That said, with the way I characterize Murtagh, I really don’t feel that he would want to openly settle in a place defined by politics and power struggles. I feel like it would be very unfulfilling for him and Thorn, especially in the city of his tumultuous childhood and their tortuous enslavement. So given the dissatisfaction if Nasuada left the rule she wants and deserves and the discontent of Murtagh living in Uru’baen, I struggle to imagine them as more than a distant, intermittent relation.

So that’s why I personally don’t enjoy shipping them. Of course, it’s subjective, but I feel like it’s also fair, and you seem to suggest that you do too. So let’s move on. So now the question is if a potential relationship with Orrin would present the same or equivalent issues that I overlook just because he's a white man.

Naturally, this is subjective too, but I say no. Of course there are still possible emotional issues between them (if there were none it’d be boring), but they’re different. Given the way specific way Orrin grieves for his friends and struggles to have faith in their cause when he sees the risk of his people being killed, I believe he is also more focused on looking after individuals than pursuing a cause. I feel like that lays a smoother groundwork with Murtagh, who has been hurt by people who dismissed his wellbeing, and that reduces a lot of underlying pain between them. Orrin’s other struggles, like defeatism, fear, and hopelessness, as well as yearning for recognition and autonomy, align with Murtagh’s experience more in a way that makes their emotional issues more interesting to engage with.

With logistical issues, obviously Orrin is also a king. But I don’t find that presents the same issues either. I interpret that Orrin didn’t want to be king and isn’t content in that role. When the matter of Murtagh’s desire to avoid being openly tied to Surda’s seat of power arises, I find a much more interesting and balanced potential story where Orrin also hopes to leave his crown and they support each other in their search for a home that they can both make their own. The discrepancies I personally find so bothersome between Murtagh and Nasuada don’t come up with Murtagh and Orrin, so I enjoy their ship more. It’s just about my interpretation of compatibility. That is the crux of my thought process. No one has to agree with it, but I believe it stands as a fair assessment.

You insist that I ask myself why I prefer one ship over another. I've done that. I've already been doing that the entire time and will continue to do so. You keep whining that I make a lot of meta analysis about aspects of the characters and how I feel like they would or wouldn't mesh together, and yeah. That's the whole fucking point. In the same way I just did, those posts explore and articulate the concrete reasons one ship appeals to me and one doesn't. For years I've diligently asked myself why I'm drawn to Murtagh/Orrin more than Murtagh/Nasuada and I'm fully secure and confident in my answer that it's the emotional and narrative possibilities they have that appeal to me more. If I was given all the details of these characters, stripped of any names, descriptions, genders, ect. I know I would still really love this ship.

And that's not even to say that it's somehow "better" (it's just different in a way that suits my taste), or that Murtagh and Nasuada's relationship must be meaningless or non-existent if it's not romantic. In my story where I ship him and Orrin, he and Nasuada go through struggles, but as they grow, they're able to reconcile and learn to better support each other and their relationship ends in a much better place.

(Also, if you're talking about my “essay” that Murtagh's true name doesn't change because he fell for Nasuada, that's irrelevant to shipping them. The series could end with them getting married and they could be my all time otp, and it'd still be true that falling in love didn't change his true name. It's just a separate part of his character arc.)

For another thing, Murtagh and Nasuada are NOT a canon ship, and that does matter. For example, it has very different implications to change an interracial ship that is happily married in canon. In the IC, it is canon that they're attracted to each other, but nothing beyond that. (And I've never even discredited that! In fact, I've said their attraction is well written and in character. It's included in my story; I didn't overwrite it.) They're never in a relationship and there's no set up that implies romance is inevitable for their stories. You yourself acknowledge that there are very valid reasons to interpret that a romantic relationship wouldn't work between them!!! So if it's fine to not ship Murtagh and Nasuada as a couple, why is it suddenly heinous to imagine Murtagh with someone else?

It’s not. Your claims are far more baseless and distasteful. Why do you act like Nasuada couldn’t possibly be respected or worthy without Murtagh’s affection? Why do you act like pointing out her mistakes condemns her entirely, as if she’s not allowed to have any flaws? Why do you think a relationship with Murtagh is equivalent to all that Nasuada has? I won’t make your kind of moral accusations about a stranger, but I will simply say that I find that very objectionable. I love Nasuada for being such a unique, flawed, and fascinating character who is so much more than all that. And if you made such a volatile, deplorable, inappropriate response simply to the idea that Murtagh- a fictional character- could love someone else, you might need to take a step back. You’re being cruel.

(Also, I don’t feel like going through the whole “u just made orrin into an oc” shit tbh. This is long enough. I take care to draw my characterization from canon, but y’all can read my stuff and decide for yourself if you’d like. Although, saying I imprinted on him is the funniest part of this ludicrous message. You know what, yeah. I’ve tricked you all. You thought this blog was being run by a human being? WRONG. Baby duckling.)

#also being accused of having 'a rot festering within me' makes me feel like a fucking dark souls boss lmfao #long post #eragon #inheritance cycle #im getting this out of my head go be free #this was some cartoonishly villainous shit guys #also hate how they ignore the potential depth of nasuadas relationships with others- including women like arya elva and trianna #as if murtagh determines nasuada's importance and worth. gross

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yuri-is-online · 3 months

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You Simple Vile Monstrosity: Rook and the Flowers of Evil

My other two dumb history posts have at least a semblance of fun fact to them, but this is mostly going to be literary analysis and some theory. There's some interesting stuff here sure, but I don't really think it adds much to the overall landscape of twst theories. But it does make Rook make more sense to me so I am making this post anyway.

So without further ado, if you are like me and enjoy reading twst theories, you might know that the beginning lines of Twisted Wonderland are something we have been debating the meaning of since the game came out really. While I think we have been closing in on their true meaning as Chapter 7 progresses along, the phrase "Flowers of Evil" can actually refer to something specific: a french poetry collection of the same name (Les Fleurs du mal in french) by a poet name Charles Baudelaire originally published in 1857. The collection was extremely controversial, but today it is highly lauded and has inspired several other literary works, including a manga series by Shūzō Oshimi of the same name. I found out about the poetry collection while working on this request and finally finished reading it... and another essay by Baudelaire for reasons we can talk about later on in the post. For now let's talk poetry.

Beauté! 100 Points!

I don't speak french, so I read an English translation done by Aaron Poochigian that does contain the original french text in the back half of the book. The Flowers of Evil is split into seven-ish parts: The Flowers of Evil (just containing "To the Reader"), Spleen and the Ideal, Parisian Scenes, Wine, Flowers of Evil (again but with 12 poems this time), Revolt, and then Death. The sections are more or less organized by the subject of the poems, Spleen and the Ideal is the largest with Baudelaire musing over what the ideal concept of beauty is while Wine deals with getting drunk (on wine mostly if you can believe it.) One of the things that jumps out very quickly about Baudelaire's work is that his concept of beauty is almost synonymous with his concept of evil. He writes a lot about maggots eating corpses, about decay, he has a few poems that talk about vampires appearing to be the highest form of beauty but really being husks of rotted flesh; it's all very much about this acceptance that evil is a part of life and human nature, so therefore there must be beauty in it. The concept of "ideal beauty" must by it's nature be divorced from the concept of "morality." When Rook talks about the potential for Leona or Malleus to kill him and how beautiful that would be, I think he means the act of destruction itself would be beautiful. The circumstances surrounding it and the consequences of it are irrelevant to the concept; this is also why while he initially says he cannot find the crimson lotuses in GloMas beautiful Deuce accuses him of doing just that after everything is said and done. He cannot find beauty in Rollo's actions, but the visual and the fight are beautiful because of the effort he and the other students put in to stop them. And perhaps most importantly, it's why he is willing to drink Vil's poison and look upon what is supposedly ultimate ugliness and say "In this moment you are the fairest of them all." Because how could an act born out of such raw and genuine emotion be anything but?

Le Chasseur D'Armour, The Hunter of Love

Baudelaire wasn't just a poet, he fancied himself a critic and wrote multiple essays, the one I read for this post is The Painter of Modern Life. Which is actually a collection of several but they are all related, and I was directed to them by this wordpress post. In it, Baudelaire muses over how things can be both beautiful and ugly, and why:

"Beauty is made up of an eternal, invariable element, whose quantity it is excessively difficult to determine, and of a relative, circumstantial element... which severally or all at once, the age, its fashions, its morals, its emotions."

He was talking about fashion plates that depicted outdated costumes, but his point was more or less that if you strictly look at the design of the costume they look ridiculous: ugly. But when you take into account their historical value (these particular plates were all from the around the time of the French revolution) they become exceedingly important: beautiful. He also mentions in this same essay the importance of not just taking into account the opinions of so called "masters" and sneers at people who think they understand what is beautiful just because they have seen a painting done by a professional:

"... to declare that Raphael, or Racine, does not contain the whole secret, and that minor poets too have something good, solid and delightful to offer... that we might love general beauty, as it is expressed by classical poets and artists, we are no less wrong to neglect particular beauty, the beauty of circumstance and the sketch of manners."

In chapter 5, while helping Vil judge the auditions for VDC, Rook gives every audition 100 points because, well, in his mind they are all an example of perfect beauty specifically because they are the work of amateurs, and that is no less valuable to him or less worthy of praise that the work of the master. Now granted he clearly does value professional quality (he did have reasons for voting for Neige other than being a massive simp. Valid ones even if loosing does sting) but that's only in the context of strict rules and guidelines. When Rook is asked for his opinion, while he certainly does believe there is an absolute, academic definition beauty, he doesn't place any value on where that beauty comes from. Baudelaire muses over how human life "accidentally" puts mysterious beauty into the world, and the true appreciator of beauty must make himself not strictly a poet but:

"...an observer of life, and only later set himself the task of acquiring the means of expressing it... For most of us... the fantastic reality of life has become singularly diluted. [But he] never ceases to drink it in; his eyes and memories are full of it."

I strongly dislike suggesting in these posts that xyz is "the definitive reason" for why a character acts the way that he does, but I do think it is very interesting how well this describes Rook's ethos. He thinks of himself as a hunter, but in order to do that he needs to observe. Sure he takes it to exceptionally extreme lengths, but it makes him one of the most lively members of the NRC cast. Baudelaire is right, there are a million things about life we miss on a day to day basis wherein true beauty lies, but Rook sees all of it. His eyes, memories, camera, and secret photo albums are fit to burst with it.

My Noble and Beautiful Flower of Evil

I mentioned the opening text at the beginning of this post, and I stand by my interpretation that the phrase "flower of evil" it uses likely is not a specific reference to any of the poems themselves... beyond the obvious note that it is a collection of poems about finding beauty in, well, evil and most of the characters are based off of villains.

But there was something that started gnawing at me when I read the introduction to my translation, which was written by a poet named Dana Gioia. It was a very well written summary of Baudelaire's life and the significance of his work, but it mentioned a connection that I have seen brought up in twst theorizing before: Edgar Allen Poe.

You see, Baudelaire was obsessed with Poe. To the point that (according to the introduction) "He considered Poe a sacred martyr for art and referred to him as 'Saint Edgar.' In his morning devotions, Baudelaire prayed first to God and then to Poe."

I have nothing to say on that (because really what could you) but the point that Gioia wanted to make in that introduction was that Poe had a massive influence on Baudelaire's writing style. He wrote multiple essays on his work and translated them into French because he felt like Poe deserved the recognition, so while Gioia used this to argue that Poe's influence on Baudelaire shouldn't be underestimated...

I can't find the post, but someone was talking about how Malleus's mother's name Meleanor is very similar to "Lenore" and I recall people sort of brushing that connection off. I don't that name is a coincidence. I think the poem "Lenore" might very well have been something thought about when constructing her character, and that the themes in Poe's work might be very relevant to the overall story of Twisted Wonderland.

Something about ravens and telltale hearts just feels like they fit; maybe we have got it all wrong and Yuu's visions aren't coming from the mirror in Ramshackle, but the floorboards.

Semi- Unrelated Fun Facts:

If you read the name Baudelaire and thought to yourself it sounded familiar, you might have be thinking of the Baudelaire children from A Series of Unfortunate Events. This isn't exactly a coincidence as the author of the series admits to his writing being heavily influenced by Charles Baudelaire to the point he actually wrote the afterword to the translation I own.

Dana Gioia is the former Poet Laureate of the state of California, something that deeply confused me. Apparently the Governor of California appoints someone to a 2 year term and they travel around the state to promote poetry and literacy which is apparently something that 46/50 U.S. states and D.C. does to????

My glorious motherland of Pennsylvania is not one of these states, apparently we only ever appointed one, then eliminated the position entirely after he retired, and then started just. Handing out ones to people in individual cities and counties. Which is so par for the course here I don't know why I am surprised.

One of the first things any college level literature course will try to drill into you is that you don't examine the life of an author when examining their work. It might sound silly, but I think Baudelaire is a great example of why that's important. The man was addicted to drugs and sex, refused to get a "real job", lived off his inheritance from his wealthy father and eventually whatever money he could convince his mother to send him his entire adult life, and had her use her political connections to bail him out of legal trouble multiple times.

If I thought too hard about that it would make his lines in "Skeleton Laborers" (Nothingness is treacherous.//Even Death is a deceiver.//Alas, forever and ever,//work may be awaiting us) fall terribly flat, which I think does them a disservice. The man was very talented and I am glad he wrote them because I felt very seen when I read them.

Baudelaire opened his publication with a note to the reader, but he made it a full poem entitled "To the Reader." I liked the ending stanza so much I used a version of it to title my blog, and eventually my current masterlist: (Boredom! Moist-eyed, he dreams, while pulling on//a hookah pipe, of guillotine-cleft necks.//You, reader, know this tender freak of freaks-//hypocrite reader-mirror-man-mytwin!)

Likewise the title of this post is also taken from part of a poem, "Hymn to Beauty" (Beauty, you simple, vile monstrosity,//I cannot care about your origin,//provided that your gaze, smile, feet show me//a sweet infinity I have never known.) I think that fits Rook's ideals rather well, don't you?

#twisted wonderland #twst rook #rook hunt #character analysis #twst theories

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luciusime · 5 months

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Everyday I draw a little closer to writing an mla format very long essay on the complex and nuanced relationship between Bruce, Damian, and Dick. It infuriates and saddens me when people boil it down to Dick being Damian's father without considering the implications of that fatherhood and the conditions it was fostered under. Would you tell a kidnapping victim that they couldn't be a father to their son? No? Then why do people rob Bruce of the opportunity to be a father to Damian? Why does Dick get to be the oh so perfect golden child even when he's hurt at least two of his siblings with his actions from the time Jason first got to the manor, to the time he ripped all that was keeping Tim stable from his hands? If parents are allowed to fuck up, why isn't Bruce allowed to work his way back to, if not forgiveness, then at least stable ground for his less reprehensible actions.( not including things like killing his children, sending them on useless or unwanted quests/missions, or not avenging or correcting their deaths. The children are allowed to be upset and never forgive those things). Has anyone ever stopped to think about the implications of Dick being Damian's father? How if you add that on top of his unwanted stint as batman, it makes him uncomfortably close to being Bruce, something he has never wanted and will never want? Why do people only ever write nuanced and complex fics about Bruce's relationship with Tim and Jason? Why is it so hard to find fics of him being nice to Dick and Damian? Are they undeserving of having Bruce affirm his love for them? Why is Damian never treated like the traumatized child he is, when Cassandra, with a similar upbringing and background, is treated with so much tenderness in the few fics she has that center around her. Why is he labeled demon, murderer; a mindless, brainless 10 year old assassin with no morals? Is he not allowed time to heal from his time in a literal cult?

And while I'm rambling on, do people ever stop to consider the delicate tightrope work Talia must have had to do to be allowed to keep her son? Not even as just Ra's heir, but as her son. Talia has always been assassin before she was mother, and those two things don't mix well when you have the amount of enemies she does. And when one of those enemies is your own father? You learn quickly what will and will not fly. The designs she must have had to make, and the horrors she must have had to witness and inflict upon her child to keep them both from dying must have been immense.

I think about these topics alot. I could totally write a whole character study about it.

#dc #damian wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #bruce is damians dad and i would willingly die on this hill #talia al ghul #talia and damian #bruce and damian #damian and dick

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callmemrskenway · 2 years

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Hello! If your still willing to write for lmk, could I ask for some headcanons for MK, Macaque, and Nezha (separate)? The prompt is that the reader (gender neutral) has invited them to meet at a Cafe they have gone to before, and when they get there and sit down the reader comes in with a small Bouquet of their favorite flowers. They then begin to calmly explain their romantic attraction towards them in what could be explained as a short essay and at the end politely ask of they would like to begin dating or stay friends.

(I apologize if it is confusing, I am not that good at communicating online)

No, I get it! But also, THIS IS SUCH A CUTE PROMPT. Very formal and classy, I like it!

BUT ALSO, MY BRAIN IS VERY STUPID AND I SOMEHOW DIDN'T SEE IT SAID MK AND NOT WUKONG SO I AM SO SORRY-

Sun Wukong:

- Wukong was so excited when you asked him to meet up with you at a Cafe. Not even just any Cafe but the Cafe where the both of you first met!

- There was a deal on peach pastries that almost sold out pretty quickly and as you reached for the last one, you locked eyes with the infamous Monkie King.

- Needless to say there was some passive aggressive arguing before the both of you decided to just split in half. Little did Wukong know then that you would've become one of his closest friends and eventual crush.

- So he's just sitting in his chair, a bit earlier than you arranged originally but he really couldn't help it, he was too excited! Everytime the bell rang, his head would pop up to see if it was you and would frown when it wasn't.

- So when you finally did enter through the door, Wukong waved you over to the spot he found for you both and you smile softly at him, only for him to realize that you were holding something.

- "Hello Wukong, these are for you." You introduced before handing them the bouquet. He blinked but happily took them from you, "Aw, you shouldn't have, (Y/n)!"

- He was so happy with the flowers that it made you smile, reminding you that one of the many reasons you loved him was because of that smile.

- "So, Wukong, you may be wondering why I asked you to join me here." You introduced, preparing yourself for the big moment.

- "Is it because you wanted to see my handsome face?" He teased.

- "Yes," You answer, taking him a bit off gaurd, "because I have realized that I started developing feelings for you."

- You then proceed to tell him your feelings in a very casual yet formal manner that caused him to get flustered but smile more with each reason you gave. He was excited, WAS THIS REALLY HAPPENING!? HE COULDN'T BELIEVE IT!

- In fact, he's so happy that you didn't even have time to tell him that you didn't mind being friends if he didn't like you back because he just stood up and picked you up, holding you closely and spinning you around, excitedly repeating and shouting the phrase: "YES!" over and over again.

- It took you by surprise at first but then you grinned and hugged him, absolutely thrilled that he returned your feelings.

Macaque:

- Macaque was a bit nervous, admittedly. You asked him to meet at the Cafe that you two both loved.

- Funny story but the way you two met here was when he was working as the Puppeteer for a while, he'd visit on his breaks and you would so happen to enter the Cafe just as he was about too.

- After a few awkward interactions, a friendship between you two grew ans he soon started to look forward to his visits to the Cafe, the both of you exchanging numbers and arranging different places to meet up.

- Now Macaque was back where it all started, staring at his reflection in the dark coffee and subconsciously messing with his fur, occasionally gazing out the window to see if you had arrived yet.

- "Macaque!" You greeted him upon walking in.

- He sent a lazy smile in your direction and raised his eyebrow when he noticed the bouquet of flowers in your hands.

- "I got these for you, I hope you like them!" You say as you happily hand them to him.

- He took them but there was a slight blush on his face, only for him to smirk up at you, "You sure you wanna give me these? I might think you love me~"

- "Well, that is what I wanted to talk to you about today!"

- ....What? Did he hear that right? His six ears flinched nervously as he tilted his head, "Wait what-"

- What you say next is...surprising. He didn't expect all the kind words you had to say about him, not many people did have kind things to say about him, and it made him...happy. The way your voice conveyed calm yet genuine affection. He felt almost...shy? And his heart was beating so fast, too.

- "I believe you have a right to know that I have feelings for you and even if they aren't returned, I'd still be satisfied being friends." You ended cheerfully.

- "I wouldn't." Macaque answered, taking a flower from the bouquet you gave him and putting it in your hair, kissing your cheek.

- It was now your turn to get a little shy.

Nezha:

- Nezha was also a bit nervous, tapping on the table and taking occasional drinks of his tea he got to calm his nerves.

- Not because of you, well, kinda because of you- But not really because of you- It's just that recently he had developed feelings for you and now, he doesn't know...what to do with that information.

- So yeah he's a bit fidgety about it but the moment you walk in, he lights up and he forgets that nervousness. Only the idea of you makes him nervous but once you're in front of him, he feels as calm and content as ever.

- Then he notices the bouquet of lotus flowers and he raises an eyebrow.

- "Who are the flowers for, (Y/n)?"

- "You!"

- "O-Oh...why?"

- You sit down and then you tell him, "Here, let me order first and then I'll tell you why I called you here."

- Alright that seemed reasonable. Putting the bouquet in his lap, he decided to finish up his tea when you tell the barista your order before you turn to him and then flat out say: "I like you."

- He chokes on his tea and starts coughing and you are about to stand up to help him but he kind just holds up a hand as if saying: "Hold on, I got this-" and when he finally manages to clear his throat, he turns to you.

- "WhAT!? He exclaims, having a major voice crack which makes him more flustered.

- You smile softly at him before giggling and explaining when you realized your feelings, why you fell in love with him, how you've been trying to figure out the perfect way to tell him. Each reason making his face warmer and warmer and a warm yet pleasant feeling began to blossom in his chest.

- You...liked him back??

- "I understand if you want to remain friends after this-"

- "NO!....I-I mean, No, I don't want to be friends with you- Wait, I mean, I think we shouldn't be friends anymore because I...also...share those...same feelings."

- HE FEELS SO BAD HE RUINED YOUR BIG CONFESSIOM but then he sees that happy and overjoyed look on your face and he just nervously chuckles.

- "So, Uh, I guess we're dating now, huh?"

#FR THO FEEL FREE TO SEND ANOTHER FOR MK I AM SORRY I MESSED UP THAT BAD-#sun wukong x reader #lmk sun wukong #lmk sun wukong x reader #Macaque x reader #lmk macaque #Lmk macaque x reader #Lmk Nezha #lmk Nezha x reader #Nezha x reader #ALSO FIRST TIME WRITING FOR NEZHA BUT I HOPE I DID WELL.#THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING HIM!!

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