#The Violent Hippy .

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 331

Demon twins? Demon twins. 

Damian? Good at the assassin side of things, at least for a four year old, but Danyal? He’s okay, but he’s far better at things like poisons and bookkeeping. Which is honestly? Okay. They’re the League of Shadows, and sure a majority of the members are assassins, but it’s definitely not all there are. So? Danyal starts getting medical training. 

Not to say that either of the boys don’t know their fair share of violence and healing- it’s just better to let them play to their strengths. One doesn’t keep a league over centuries if they just have one type of warrior, or even just warriors. A variety is needed. 

So one gets trained more towards the business side of things. Damian may be better at wielding the weapons and killing- even if neither have had their first kill quite yet- but Danyal shows far more proficiency at acting, at masking who he is and gathering information. 

Damian, when he’s first sent to their Father, doesn’t mention his twin. Not because he’s jealous or hates him or anything like that. You just don’t talk about someone in an undercover mission in the League, and it’s not something he realizes isn’t a rule everywhere. 

Needless to say, the Bats have more than a mild freakout the first time Damian mentions a twin who will be coming to the manor now that his mission is over. 

[polariod240]

I think Ryo/Akira/Miki should be able to do some eco-terrorism crimes now and then. As a treat.

[returntoregalia]

Ripred being a morally ambiguous violent hippie will always be my favorite thing.

Never in my life have I ever thought of Ripred and "hippie" in the same sentence 😂

[spann-stann]

Setting Blurb Poll III

[sagevalleymusings]

Man or Bear? Is a Stupid Dichotomy, but No One on Tumblr Will Believe Me

So there’s this meme that’s been going around… ‘which would you rather run into alone in the woods: a man, or a bear?’ I’ve heard a couple of variations on the answer (which of course is always ‘I choose the bear’) - at least someone would believe me about the bear attack, it depends on the bear… I’ve even heard the variant where a man will answer, well it depends on the man or the bear, but then if you ask the question, alone in the woods with a woman or a bear, well there’s no question!

Here’s the thing. I hate this thought experiment. For a lot of reasons, and I worry this essay will be nothing but me circling the point like a vulture if I try and write it without structure so as a spoiler, here’s the main three reasons: it treats violence from men against women as a personal threat and not a systemic issue, it continues to perpetuate the narrative of violence as heteropatriarchal, and it completely ignores race, even though race is highly prevalent when talking about gender and violence in America. 

Are you ready to get into it?

The Violence is Unstated but it isn’t Subtext

Whether they mean to or not, when thinking about the man or bear prompt, people are primed by the language to come to a specific conclusion. People are thinking about men and bears as two things in a set and priming themselves for the belief that if it is a choice between the two, we are assessing the threat of two different apex predators. Everyone knows why you are asking this question, so everyone whether they realize it or not is answering as though what you meant is obviously, ‘would you rather be assaulted by a man or a bear?’ All of the responses hinge on the assumption that one of the two will assault you. We are less primed to think immediately of violence if the question is ‘would you rather be alone in the woods and run into a man or a blobfish’ for example. 

But even that phrase, ‘alone in the woods’ evokes a long history of horror media and potentially even an evolutionary fear of predators. What about the question, ‘would you rather be alone in a tiger enclosure with a man, or with a tiger?’ ‘Would you rather be alone at a pet food store with a man or a coyote?’ 

Because if we’re being honest… I think I’d rather be assaulted by a bear too. And it has nothing to do with thinking that men are more physically dangerous. If my options are to be assaulted by a man or by a bear, at least a bear is alien and inhuman. It’s assaulting you for food, or for defense of her cubs, but a man would be deliberately causing another person harm, with the intent to terrorize. A bear is more likely to kill you accidentally, but there’s something about psychological violence that makes it more frightening even though it is less deadly. 

And from what I’ve seen, the responses do seem to know this. Posts that actually get into the why talk about the fear of being followed home, the frustration with not being believed, the long-term psychological damage of the consequences of rape without Roe V Wade, the jeering catcalls and general lack of empathy… it’s never about the physical danger or threat of death that a man could bring, but all the things a man could bring that a bear literally could not, which are ultimately more frightening and insidious, precisely because they are not physical.

In previous iterations of this essay, I spent a long and arduous time proving why, when people cite that bears are more violent, it’s a faulty comparison. And I want to still get into that, but I don’t want to lose sight of this point. I agree that if my options were to be assaulted by a man or a bear, I would also prefer a bear. A bear can only kill you. 

But the question isn’t ‘which would you be assaulted by’ it’s ‘run into alone.’ And because we are talking about one while meaning the other (foreshadowing) it absolutely encourages the assumption that running into a man alone is inherently a risk. I’ve seen people say this explicitly in response. I don’t like that this thought experiment leads to people talking about men as inherently violent, and I want to get into why I have a problem with that part.

But before I do, I want to be very clear that this is going to sound like me saying #notallmen, but I do take violence against women very seriously. I have never been more than casually groped by a man, which is relevant here when talking about lived experience, but I am still a woman and so I do understand the psychology that goes into having to take active precautions against violence from your fellow humans in a way that men just do not have to think about. But in the socioeconomic climate we find ourselves in, I think it bears considering that some women are thinking about male violence… a little too much. 

Crime Statistics and White Hegemony

I’ve talked about this before, but there is a difference between ‘men commit more violent crimes’ and ‘men get convicted of more violent crimes.’ But when it comes to talking about rates of violence, we talk like we are speaking about the former while using the rates of the latter. And it cannot be left unsaid when talking about rates of conviction that black men get convicted of violent crimes at much higher rates than white men. 

At the same time… there has been a real and genuine shift in our conversations about consent in the last forty years. Some of the numbers have not caught up yet but it’s important to bear in mind that violent crime of all kinds has been steadily going down for a long time. Part of the reason we don’t talk about this is because the American hegemony is reliant on prison as a form of capital and population control, and so politicians have a vested interest in keeping you specifically afraid of the dangers of violent outsiders.

It can still be propaganda even if it isn’t Mexicans specifically you are calling rapists and murderers.

This can be really hard for people who have been subject to violent crime to hear. And the numbers are pretty disappointing, even still. Patriarchal violence is real and present in America. But I will stand firm in my conviction that although violence from humans does represent a danger in the world, the way in which we talk about violence as an act men specifically do against women specifically is unhelpful for combating both systemic violence and personal violence. And even though we don’t think we’re doing ‘white women’s tears’ we absolutely are, because our statistics about violent crime in America come from conviction rates, which means we are basing our fear of all men on black men in specific. 

When is Personal Violence Systemic?

I’m going to circle back to this point about violent crime, statistics, and racism, but I want to tangent briefly to talk about statistics normalization. 

I saw one post early on which cited some actual numbers, and claimed that bears killed 8 women in North America between 2020-2022, while men killed 12,000 women in that time. 

So about that population density…

There are approximately 800,000 brown and black bears in North America, the populations responsible for those 8 deaths. Meanwhile, there are approximately 225,407,000 legally adult males in the United States and Canada. That means that the ratio of deaths per bear in North America is 0.001% per bear. And the number of murders per adult man in North America is 0.005%. That does still mean that you are five times more likely to be murdered by a man than a bear, but… that is absolutely a zero percent chance of being murdered no matter what. Does that mean I think personal protection against that slim chance is pointless? Not really, they mostly never get used but do help when they are. But it’s important to bring up how rare it is already because there is another factor here that we’re not taking into consideration. It’s called negativity bias.

Have you ever seen a bear in the wild? Probably not, right? There’s not that many and they’re mostly in the forest. I would guess that a majority of people who actually do see a bear in the woods do get attacked by that bear. You’ve been in the woods with a bear, you just didn’t see them. The majority of the time, bears don’t care about you. You are a predator, and they’re an enormous mammal that just doesn’t have the energy for that fight. Bears get a reputation as violent animals much for the same reason that sharks do - because they are a dangerous predator, and if you do see one, that’s already a step too far.

So… Have you ever seen a man? Sounds like a dumb question, you presumably have a father. But go on this journey with me. There’s a likelihood that if you are inside of the North America demographics we’ve been talking about this whole time, you do not live in a female-exclusive commune that kicks little boys out of their den the second they stop breastfeeding, yes that is a real thing. 

In which case, there are probably men you interact with. Dare I say it on a daily basis. Rural towns look safer on the surface but in fact when you adjust for population they are not, they just have less people and therefore less opportunity for disruption. This is why we have to adjust for population when we do demographics in general, but the fact that bears and people do not share the same social sphere means that adjusting for demographics does not truly normalize these two numbers. We are literally comparing apples and oranges. Are you more likely to be assaulted by the guy ringing up your groceries, or the lynx that just gave you a warning growl?

You are far more likely to die in a car crash than a plane crash, even after normalizing the data for per vehicle, per passenger, per mile, or per trip. But we don’t act like that’s true because for most people most of the time, cars are incredibly safe - millions of people drive millions of cars safely every single day. The risk is negligible not because the number of automobile accidents are low - they aren’t. It’s negligible because when accounting for daily risk, cars occur in our daily life so frequently that we stop thinking about it as dangerous.  

The risk of being attacked by a random man is, genuinely, also negligible. Choosing literally any adult man on earth to find yourself alone in the woods with versus any bear, you are physically safer choosing the man, statistically, not that you needed me to point that out because it’s the one thing the MRAs have figured out about this thought experiment and they won’t shut up about it. 

But none of that matters emotionally, because of the negativity bias. Men are more likely to be the perpetrators of violent crime. Not by as much as you would think, and more on that later, but what this means is that if something dangerous has happened to you, it was probably done by a man. This is why the response to #notallmen was #yesallwomen. We become primed to believe men are threats not because they are, but because if we’ve experienced harm, it’s been by men. And that negativity bias is a bias. The hundreds of normal interactions you have in your day to day are normal. 

But just because most men are fine doesn’t really change how people feel about it, does it? All of this stuff is subject to context, and if your context is negative, your conclusions will be negative. It depends on the man, it depends on the bear. If you see a polar bear at even twenty miles, you’re dead. Radio the base to warn them and pray to your god kind of dead. Polar bears are extremely territorial and more importantly they’re so much larger than us that they think we’re prey, which is not true of any other species of bear. I would rather be stuck in the woods with Ted Bundy than a polar bear, at least I have a chance of taking Ted Bundy in a fight. But if I have to choose between a sun bear and Matt Walsh, I’m definitely okay chilling with the sun bear. Hell, there is a long list of men no longer in my life right now that I wouldn’t choose before a sun bear. So believe me, I do get it. 

Heteropatriarchal Assumptions

But the thing is, I would absolutely say it depends on the woman and it depends on the bear. I was living with four people, and the cops showed up because the two women got into a fist fight. My ex girlfriend was abusive. I moved three hundred miles because a woman was stalking me.

Women can also be violent. To quote from me: Women are less likely to be reported as perpetrators of violent crime, more likely to receive smaller sentences or warnings for the same crimes, and more likely to use methods which aren't considered assault (like emotional abuse). And when you look at self reports instead of crime statistics, the gender gap is much lower.

I had this complaint about #metoo when it first came around and people started posting the corresponding hashtag #believewomen. For starters, it doesn’t take almost any kind of queer domestic experiences into consideration. It’s hard to talk about for example partner violence in lesbian separatist circles where they firmly believe that violence is a male only behavior. The few times I tried mentioning people I knew who weren’t women who’d been raped or assaulted by women, I was told to sit down and shut up, because this conversation was about male violence against women and nothing else. And yeah, sure, it is… but it shouldn’t be. 

Which I think is a good opportunity to circle back to negativity bias, because I did check those murder rate statistics by the way. 

The number of women murdered in the United States and Canada between 2020-2022 was nearly exactly 12,000 - it was 12,075. This isn’t women murdered by men by the way - it’s all women murdered, regardless of the gender of the perpetrator. I can’t say for certain how many women were murdered by men specifically (most crimes are more frequently in-group violence), but I can say specifically that only about 78% of the perpetrators were men.

And also 77% of the victims. The number of men murdered in the same time frame was 44,715. Over three times higher. The numbers from our ‘man or bear’ folks deliberately remove the 6 men killed by bears and over forty-thousand men murdered in the same time frame. 12,000 looks pretty scary if the number you are comparing it to is 8. But it doesn’t look very large at all if the number you’re comparing it to is 44,000. 

‘Men are murdered at disproportionately high rates compared to women’ is a thing which at this point would feel true if I said it, but again we’re looking at conviction rates. I got these US numbers straight from the FBI. Both the US and Canada notoriously have a high number of missing and murdered women. 

Wait, I think I’m missing a word in there… oh right. Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women.

Oops All Racism

That’s right I’m talking about race again. I find it almost offensive as a white woman when I hear other white women talking about the threat of violence as an epidemic. The demographic info everyone is sharing about murders disproportionately represents people of color in the perpetrator column and the victim column. That 12,000 number just isn’t about me. We cannot have this conversation unless we are willing to look at intersectionality. I will 100% always and without reservation believe a black or brown woman when she says that she feels threatened. But I extend less grace to my fellow white women. We have been tools of white hegemony for a long, long, long time. America’s system of oppression, including patriarchal oppression, relies on our fear of male violence to maintain control.

I cannot help but have a conspiratorial voice in my head whispering that it serves white hegemony to keep me, a white woman, afraid of men in general while pretending that it’s not black men we’re talking about. From a practical standpoint, a fear and distrust of all men has not and does not lead to white men being convicted at the same rate. Even if you use the language of feminism to justify that fear. What it does lead to is continued reliance on a criminal justice system which fails to arrest for crimes committed, fails to convict for crimes arrested, and disproportionately punishes people of color and black men in specific as an extension of slavery. 

If I find myself alone in the woods with a black man, let’s be real here… the threat in that space is not the man. It’s me. 

So What Now?

In conclusion, I think that painting men as the target of our ire in a conversation about patriarchal violence is the wrong tactic, because it teaches a fear of personal violence that from a sociological perspective bears out in increased policing of black and brown men only. I believe that the conversation we should be having about male violence is about politics and systems and not about personal interactions. 

Brock Turner served half his sentence. Bill Cosby’s conviction was overturned only three years after the court case. Harvey Weinstein’s case is going to retrial right now. All of these people are household names - deeply vilified by most of the country. But it doesn’t matter. They are still free from consequences. 

People are not the problem here. Systems are. Systems which privilege the rich and powerful, which give the benefit of the doubt to the perpetrator, and which discourage restorative justice. Post #metoo, we’ve genuinely made enormous strides on interpersonal relationships. It simply is not the case that the average person will refuse to believe you if you tell them you are the victim of a crime, even sexual assault. But in the court of law, a jury is legally required not to believe you unless the evidence is overwhelmingly otherwise. 

I hate the thought exercise ‘man or bear’ because it highlights that there is a real problem but does nothing to attempt to solve it. And at this point in the conversation I am done underlining believe women in bright bold sharpie. I know where people stand by now, they’ve had plenty of time to figure this out. But I don’t need Mitch McConnell to get it in his bones why I’d cuddle with a black bear than spend five minutes in a room alone with him in order to get some fucking laws passed around here. And I think that while we focus on the fear of personal violence broadly, we lose some ability to control what laws exactly we’re talking about. Are ankle bracelets a safe and effective means of reintegration? How do we divest funds from overpolicing and into community care? Has increased security in secluded parks (where the question ‘man or bear’ is relevant) actually increased safety, or has it merely increased state violence toward vulnerable populations such as racial minorities, unhoused people, and persons with mental health issues? 

Yes we need to fix patriarchal violence in our country. And we have been. We’ve literally been watching this happen for years. And it’s for that reason for me that I think the man or bear thought experiment feels like a second wave argument in a fourth wave era. Feminism cannot continue to be about protecting women from men without taking into account the ways in which intersections of privilege affect those relationships, including the ways in which white women have power in this society and ‘man or bear’ completely flattens a lot of the conversation and work we’ve already been doing. 

I believe in our ability to have nuanced conversations about violence, and ‘I’d choose the bear’ isn’t it. 

[carewyncromwell]

"No more, the crap rolls out your mouth again! Haven't changed -- your brain is still gelatin! Little whispers circle around your head... Why don't you worry about yourself instead!?"

~"Holier Than Thou" by Metallica

x~x~x~x

[transcribed from art, for easier translation]

Olivia: Cool your jets, Jacob, that prat isn't worth it. Duncan: Better to get back at Lockhart when there isn't a Hall full of witnesses around. Olivia: Not helping, Duncan.

x~x~x~x

Happy belated birthday, Jacob Cromwell!

In celebration (?), I thought I'd salute one of my personal favorite headcanons about Jacob that I haven't had much of a chance to explore...namely, that Jacob shared a dormroom with the one, the only Gilderoy Lockhart!

Yes, as you can imagine, Jacob hated Lockhart's bloody guts. 😂

Really, though, it wasn't hard for Jacob to hate Lockhart when that "toothy prat" would act like the smartest guy in the room and yet cowardly avoid any challenges or duels that could contradict that overly shiny self-image Lockhart had of himself. Old Gilderoy was also prone to grab more attention from female students than Jacob did, even with his ridiculously puffed-up ego, for his good looks and (marginally) better people skills. Oh yeah -- and then there was Lockhart's attempt to marginalize Jacob, Duncan, and Olivia's hard work dealing with the Cursed Vaults terrorizing Hogwarts by acting like he'd suspected how to break each curse all along and (even more insultingly) insinuating that it was really him who'd instructed the three Cursebreakers in the methods they'd used to break them. Lockhart even brashly reiterated this one infamous Valentine's Day in his and the Trio's fifth year when he received 800 Valentine's cards and presents (which, as it turned out, were all from Lockhart to himself) --

" -- such beautiful gifts and cards! No doubt from fans both across and outside Hogwarts itself! They must've heard of my heroic efforts toward helping break the curses on the Cursed Vaults! Taught Duncan Ashe everything he knows about puzzle solving...and poor Miss Green was clueless in dealing with those boggarts until I showed her the proper method! And those Acromantula, ho ho...I daresay our favorite Cursebreakers would've been helpless in communicating with those beasts, if it weren't for me teaching Jacob some basic phrases..."

Even if his friends successfully held Jacob back physically, they didn't stop him from verbally tearing into Lockhart.

"'TAUGHT ME SOME PHRASES?!' Acromantula are capable of HUMAN SPEECH, you brain-dead numpty!"

Ultimately Lockhart's little stunt came to an end when the Great Hall had to be cleared of students so the teachers could properly deal with the 800 owls and their 800 packages and letters cluttering up the room. Lockhart's interest in stealing credit for dealing with the Cursed Vaults waned for a short time after Olivia's disappearance, Duncan's death, and Jacob's expulsion, but came back in full when Jacob's sister Carewyn likewise had to deal with them. Fortunately Lockhart failed to collect enough information about Carewyn's adventures to take credit for them and was forced to retreat with a very basic Memory Charm as his goodbye before she or her date Andre Egwu could put together his true intentions. And more fortunately still, about six years later, Lockhart got his just desserts when all of the lies he told to score cheap fame and success came to light.

No one was more pleased when the world finally conjured up enough brain cells to see Lockhart for the idiot and fraud he was than Jacob Cromwell. And ironically enough, the world had also finally conjured up enough brain cells to see for who Jacob really was by then -- not a delinquent as so many had presumed for so long, but an eccentric, brilliant wizard with iron-clad loyalty, incredible magical talent, and a heart as brave as Lockhart's is cowardly.

[oflgtfol]

marvel comics are a fucking joke

[snufflingfortruffles]

dang i had hoped it was about elden ring or something from the first half

Look, we joke a lot, but really, "you were born evil, wretched, worse than the scum of the earth, and it took killing a god to make you salvageable, so now you'd better be grateful to that god and thank him 10,000 times a day for it and fill your thoughts with him 24/7 and abide by the letter of his every word, lest you suffer unimaginable torture for all of eternity" is a truly horrendous thing to believe about yourself and other people

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

cw: menstruation (not graphic), afab anatomy

Part 4: “Girl Problems”

You shift in the office chair, stomach lurching uncomfortably. It’s been bothering you today - groaning and moaning nonstop. So far you blamed it on the suspicious chicken salad you got from the discount grocery store. You took every stomach soother you could, all the way down to chugging tea on the hottest day of spring so far.

With a rather pathetic groan you stand to meander your way to the bathroom. Surely sitting on the pot will help - at least as a placebo. Just as you do, though, a very distinct wet feeling makes itself known. You freeze, briefly, as if it will go away if you stand still enough.

“Ah, fuck!” You gasp, grabbing your purse and jogging down the hall to the single bath stall and popping the lock shut.

As soon as you sit, you let out a small sigh of relief. At least you caught it before you turned your underwear into a total crime scene. You’d rather not have to explain to John why you need to go home and change. You dig through your bag to your usual pocket of various supplies. From lotion to a sewing kit. It never hurts to be prepared.

Except, as you rifle around, you’re not finding your usual stash. There should be at least three in here… when did-?

The very loud, distinct memory of a girl at a bar stopping you while canvassing for some sanitary products hits you like a train.

“Whatever you’ve got I’ll take.” She practically begged. So, you handed them all over because got forbid someone get stranded during the most hellish week of the month. Like you are now.

You make a deep, frustrated noise in your throat and bury your face in your hands. You’ve been meaning to put a basket of backup wipes, pads, and tampons in the little bathroom cabinet - not just for you but for customers, too. It just kept getting pushed off when you got busy with other things.

Shit. What are you gonna do? If you put your pants back on you’ll just bleed through them in ten minutes. Cursed with a heavy flow (or blessed with a strong connection to the moon, as your former hippie roommate insisted.) Less time than that, probably, based on the vicious cramp that travels from your lower back to pelvis. You won’t be able to get to the corner store with out leaving a war crime in your path.

John’s the only person in the studio right now. He doesn’t have a client for another hour or so but you’d rather die than tell your hot boss you’re bleeding everywhere. For a few, quiet moments, you violently bounce your knee and go through every possibility. Maybe you’ll suddenly turn into the flash and you can get home before anyone even notices. You don’t really have much of a choice, do you?

With another groan you pull your phone from your pocket, thumb hovering over his contact for just a few beats too long while you work up the courage.

>> ok so this is terrible

>> im so sorry

>> but im having girl problems and am stuck in the bathroom

>> im so sorry this is so unprofessional

Girl problems? What are you? In fucking middle school? Before you can send yet another in a long string of planned apologies, John answers.

J >> How can I help?

>> i dont have any products on me

>> meant to stock the bathroom

>> sorry

J >> Stop apologizing

J >> What kind do you use? I’ll go to the corner store up the street

You breathe out a sigh of relief, still nervously gnawing at your lip as you send him what you need with an example picture (just in case) and profusely insist you’ll pay him back. John refuses. You’ll just have to sneak the cash in his tips or something.

It isn’t long before you hear the front doorbell ring, heavy footsteps, then a gentle tap on the bathroom door. “Y’alright, love?”

You perk up. “John, I’m so sorry-“

“Didn’t ask if you were sorry. Asked if you were alright.”

You snort. “Yeah…”

“I’m goin’ to unlock the door to slide these in. No lookin’ I swear.” John says. As if you were worried about that. You trust John. More than maybe any other man you’ve known (not that the bar is very high.) It’s nice of him to say, though. The door barely cracks open, just enough for him to toss the box to you across the floor and shut it immediately. You barely even see his arm. “That all you need?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You murmur, bending awkwardly and snatching up the box. “I’m really sorry. I know it’s not really… appropriate.”

“Love, it’s normal. It happens. Just get y’self situated.” John taps the door once before you hear his footsteps drift down the hall toward the front.

You feel a bit skittish the rest of the day. You know it’s stupid. John’s a grown man and it’s a natural thing that happens and it’s fine. He said it’s fine. If it wasn’t fine you probably wouldn’t still look up to him the way that you do - the way that you have since you came here. The way everyone else seems to. Even so, you step around him a little wider than usual on your way out - keeping your head hung low and both hands tightly gripping your purse.

You chew your lip, shifting in place as he locks the front door. “Look, John, I-“

“If you apologize again I’m gonna fire you.” John mutters, pulling on the door to make sure it’s properly secured. There’s humor in it, though, the corners of his lips quirked up slightly.

You scoff, still not quite able to meet his eye.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” When you don’t move fast enough, apparently, he tilts your head up with a light touch. His eyes are so warm despite their icy blue shade. Sparkly in the setting sun. “Any man worth his breath wouldn’t give a shite. I’m sorry if that hasn’t been your experience, but really, it’s fine. I’ll help you out a thousand times over if y’need.”

“Okay…” You murmur, suddenly very distracted by the feeling of his fingers touching your chin, light as is it. You pull away and clear your throat, hoping he doesn’t notice the growing heat in your cheeks. “Well, uh, see you tomorrow, then.”

John nods, still smiling. “Sleep well, dove.”

When you come in the next day, you expect to get teased. A snide comment or a sideways look. You would have at any other job you’d worked - especially one with all men. All giggling and poking at you like a bear they know can’t bite back. No one says a thing outside of their usual greetings when you make your way to the front desk, though. Johnny pinches your hip like normal, Simon greets you with his new pun of the day, Kyle gives you a distracted wave over the hum of his practice gun. John doesn’t bat an eye when he says hello and checks in about the plan for the day.

You open the bottom drawer that you usually tuck your purse into, pausing before you set it inside. At the bottom, neatly tied together with a piece of twine, sits a king size chocolate bar and a pack of Midol.

If John notices the way you become extra smiley after that discovery, he doesn’t comment.

A/N: This was very self-indulgent but I’m having a bad time over here and need to be saved.

[theostrophywife]

devil eyes.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: devil eyes by hippie sabotage.

author's note: this spicy fic is in collaboration with my darling @writingsbychlo. make sure you check out hide and seek. we've been scheming for weeks and i'm so happy to finally share this fun little story with all of you. keep an eye out for some cheeky cameos 👀

The cardinal rule of Gryffindor House was plain and simple—never ever make a bet with the Weasley twins. 

Anyone stupid enough to do so either found themselves out a pocketful of galleons or worse, owing Fred and George a no questions asked favour that the pesky redheads could cash in at any time. 

Unfortunately, you were a little more than tipsy off of a bottle of firewhisky and bet one of the twins, Fred? George?—you couldn’t remember which ginger you’d sold your soul to—that you could easily outfly him on the pitch during a quidditch after party. After a violent hangover, the annoying git actually showed up outside of your dorm with a Firebolt in each hand. 

“Let’s see those skills in action then, Y/N.” 

On a normal day, you might’ve managed it. You were smaller and lighter than Fred, which gave you an advantage in flight, but as your head pounded and your stomach churned, you knew there was no way you were getting on that bloody broom. Though your house motto was all about being bold and brave, you weren’t reckless enough to risk it. 

Instead, you settled for a favour. 

In hindsight, you probably should’ve just stuck to death by eating shit on the quidditch pitch. It would’ve been a hell of a lot better than trying to squeeze yourself into a stupid tiny little costume that bordered on exotic dancer more than scary witch, but it’s not like you had much of a choice. You had a debt to settle. Fred made sure to remind you of that.

While the rest of your housemates headed to the Forbidden Forest, you were busy preparing for the vital role that your ginger overlords had assigned to you for the night. Since it was Fred and George’s last year, the twins were determined to solidify their status as Hogwarts legends. What better way to leave their mark than throwing a huge rager in the forest? Thus, the All Hallow’s Eve Fest was born. 

As far as your professors knew, it would be a small festival to celebrate the season complete with carnival games, enchanted rides, and cornfield mazes. All harmless fun. But the student body knew that the Weasley twins had something far more devious up their sleeves. 

From what Fred told you, the night would be full of secret passages, elaborate tricks, and actors and actresses who would add to the whole allure. You were to be one of them. Tonight, you were playing the part of a seductive sorceress who ripped out the hearts of unsuspecting men. 

You were practically made for the role, Fred joked. 

You threatened to resort to method acting and grabbed at the front of his shirt with every intent to rip his heart out of his chest. Luckily for him, George came to his rescue and tore his twin from your grasp before you could inflict damage. 

“See you at the Forbidden Forest at seven sharp,” Fred called as he tossed the costume at you. “Don’t be late, Y/N!” 

At half past six, you almost considered skipping the event altogether, but that would mean owing the twins yet another favour. It was best to get this over with as quickly as possible. Sighing, you tugged on some fishnet tights and slipped into a pair of high-heeled boots that laced all the way up to your thighs. You placed a hand on your hip, frowning at your reflection in the mirror of the prefect’s bathroom. 

“Are you trying to scare the masses or seduce them?” 

You turned around to find your friend Chloe perched up against the sink, smirking as she raised a brow at you. 

“I’m supposed to be a bloodthirsty sorceress,” you said as you snatched her tube of lipstick and painted your lips with a fiery red shade. “Know any men who wouldn’t mind having their hearts ripped out?” 

She chuckled, swinging her legs in the air. “A few. The boys will be in skull makeup tonight, so aim for them first. Save the curly one for me, though.” 

“You’ve sent Riddle out on that wild goose chase of yours, then?” 

Chloe smirked and blew on her freshly painted nails. “He’s got until midnight to find me.” 

“What happens when the clock strikes twelve?” 

“Let’s just say that I’m fully prepared to live up to my house’s name and let him slither in.” 

“At least one of us is having fun tonight.” 

“Who says you can’t? You may owe Fred a favour, but that doesn’t mean you can’t cause a little trouble.” 

You smirked in the mirror as you put on the final piece of the costume. The gold mask fit perfectly over your eyes and truly completed the sinister seductive sorceress part that Fred cast you as tonight. 

“I like the way you think.” 

The promise of mischief and chaos helped to put a little pep in your step as you and Chloe parted ways. You didn’t even recognize the Forbidden Forest as you stepped foot into the haunted woods. There were colourful tents set up all around the clearing, some containing mirrored mazes and others promised fortunes readings. The combination of red lights and creepy fog gave the demented looking carnival an eerie feel. As much as you hated to admit it, the twins have really outdone themselves tonight. 

After running through the spell that conjured a hyper realistic heart that you’d be ripping out of unsuspecting victims all night, Fred directed you towards the east side of the forest. 

“Remember, it’s not a good night unless someone’s pissed themselves out of fear,” Fred reminded you for the thousandth time. 

“You’re a sadist, Forge.” 

Fred placed a hand over his heart. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Y/N.” 

“Piss off, yeah?” 

He chuckled. “I’d tell you to act scary, but you’ve got that down pat.” Fred cocked his head, examining your costume. “Although, would it kill you to show a little more leg?” 

“It won’t kill me, but I might kill you.” 

Fortunately for Fred, George plucked his twin away from your murderous clutches to start greeting their guests. By the time it was half past seven, the clearing was full of your fellow students. Despite your initial reluctance, scaring the absolute piss out of people was actually a lot of fun. As Fred predicted, you had a natural talent for it. 

The first group that wandered into your neck of the woods consisted of your fellow housemates. Dean and Seamus led the pack while Ron and Harry followed close behind. The Chosen One was as pale as Peeves. Weasley, on the other hand, looked as though he might vomit at any moment. Leading the rear, Hermione shook her head and marched forward. Neville matched her pace as he nervously darted through the twisted roots choking up the forest floor. 

You waited until their group passed through the twisted willow tree before jumping out. Dean screamed in surprise while Seamus scrambled away from you. Thanks to Fred’s little trick, your hand went right through Finnigan’s shirt which caused him to shriek in terror. With a twisted smile, you yanked the hyper realistic heart out of his chest and cackled in delight. 

At the sight of the beating organ in your hands, Neville nearly passed out. Dean hauled Seamus to his feet while Ron and Harry hightailed it out of there. Hermione chuckled, shaking her head at the boys. 

“Well, they lasted longer than I thought they would,” she said. “Stuck out here for the night, Y/N?” 

“Unfortunately,” you replied as you vanished the dry blood with a quick spell. “Anyone you want me to scare the absolute wits out of tonight, Mione?” 

She chuckled, shaking her head. “No, I don’t have any scores to settle.” You nodded, wishing her a good rest of the night. 

Hermione bid you the same and started to follow the direction that the boys fled to. Before she disappeared through the thicket, a familiar, drawling voice called her back. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the golden girl.” 

Draco Malfoy appeared in the clearing. There was skull makeup on his face, but the shock of platinum blonde hair gave away his identity almost instantly. He stalked towards Hermione with that arrogant aristocratic smirk, completely oblivious that you were lurking in the dark. 

“All alone in the woods, little lion?”

Hermione’s gaze flickered towards you. A smile curved against her lips as her honey eyes glimmered with mischief. “On second thought…” 

The golden girl hadn’t even finished the rest of her sentence before you yanked Draco by the wrist and pushed him up against the weeping willow. The blonde blinked, his silver eyes full of surprise and terror as you raked your nails along the column of his throat. The red varnish looked like blood against his pale skin.

“All alone in the woods, little serpent?” 

Draco steeled himself. “And who are you supposed to be?” 

You smirked. “I’ll be whoever you want, darling.” Malfoy shivered as you pressed a palm against his chest. He leaned into your touch, his heart beating erratically underneath your fingertips. For Godric’s sake, he was truly making this way too easy. “As long as you give me your heart.” 

Never in his life had Draco Malfoy looked so terrified. The colour drained from his face as you reached through his perfectly tailored button down shirt, fingers slipping through the expensive silk material. You laughed maniacally and caressed his cheek. 

“Brace yourself, sweetheart. This might hurt a bit.” 

Without warning, you yanked his heart out of his chest. Draco stared in utter horror as blood dripped from your fingertips. The tell-tale heart pounded in your palm,  the mess of flesh and tissue covering your arm with carnage. To Malfoy’s credit, he didn’t scream or flee like your housemates. Instead, the Slytherin appeared rather impressed. 

“The spell work’s not bad.” Draco said with a smirk. He lifted your palm and examined the heart. “A word of advice, though. I would’ve turned the heart black. It would’ve been more realistic.” 

Just as you rolled your eyes, a deep, husky voice pulled your attention away from the blonde. 

“Who even knew Draco Malfoy had a heart?” 

You turned to find a gathering of serpents in the clearing. They were all wearing matching skull makeup, but you could clearly tell who each male was. The gang of Slytherins were pretty infamous and easily recognizable. The curly headed one had to be Mattheo Riddle. His gaze darted through the trees as though he expected someone to appear out of the thick fog. You had to hand it to her, Chloe had the Slytherin eating right out of her hand. 

The one beside him stood a little bit taller and though his face was smeared in the same white and black paint, there was no mistaking Enzo Berkshire’s lopsided grin and soft hazel eyes. Flanking either side of him was Blaize Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, the it-couple of your year, which only left one other serpent to account for. The male that had spoken earlier had to be none other than Theodore Nott. 

You turned your attention back to him, squinting in the faint light as he prowled towards you. Theodore was considerably taller than the rest of his friends, but not in the awkward scrawny way that most boys his age were. He was slim yet strong, sculpted by years of playing quidditch. The makeup only accentuated his high cheekbones and his ridiculously sharp jawline, but it was his eyes—those dead, cold eyes that had half the school swooning over him that gave you pause. 

Theodore grinned as you released your hold on Draco. He cocked his head, arrogance and swagger radiating off of him in waves as his eyes roamed your body. There was something unsettling about his gaze—Theodore’s eyes were neither green nor blue, but rather some undiscovered shade that reminded you of watercolours bleeding into each other. 

The manner in which he ogled you was shameless. He drank in your tight corset, the fishnet tights, and the thigh high boots like you were a painting on the walls of a gallery, pinned up for his viewing pleasure. You held your head high, completely undeterred by his stare. Besides, two could play that game. 

You schooled your features into indifference. “Who are you supposed to be? The Pumpkin King?” 

Theodore flashed you a charming smile that you had no doubt made the rest of the student population swoon. “I’ll be your Jack if you agree to be my Sally, sweetheart.” 

As slowly as possible, you dragged your gaze from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. Theodore smirked as you surveyed him just as he had done to you a few moments ago. Staying true to his Slytherin roots, Theodore wore a black suit and matching freshly pressed trousers, but the silk shirt underneath was maroon—Gryffindor colours. Your house colours. 

“Brave of you to wear rival colours.” 

“I thought you’d be happy,” Theodore drawled. “Better to hide the blood when you rip my heart out, darling.” 

“You think I care about making a mess?” you said with a smirk. “That’s half of the fun.” 

Theodore flashed you a smile that spelled nothing but trouble. “Oh, I think you’re just my kind of witch.” 

“Oi, Notty boy! If you’re done flirting, we’re heading to the mirror maze.”

Blaise was regarded with a wave of dismissal. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.” 

Hermione lingered by the edge of the clearing. She raised a brow in a silent question. You merely shrugged. Theodore Nott wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. 

“Give Longbottom my apologies, Mione. And a calming draught,” you added as an afterthought. “The poor bloke will need it.”

Your friend smiled. “Sure thing. Shall I tell the twins that you’re…indisposed?” 

“No, let my wardens sweat it out a bit.”

Hermione chuckled and waved you off. The rest of the Slytherins followed shortly after, leaving you alone with Theodore. You locked eyes for a moment before you spun on your heel and walked off in the opposite direction. The brunette stared after you in stunned silence before you looked over your shoulder and smirked at him. 

“Well, are you coming or not, Theodore?” 

The sounds of the leaves crunching below his boots indicated that Theodore had snapped out of his stupor and was catching up to you. He did so rather quickly, thanks to those long legs of his. One of his strides was equal to three of yours. It took little to no effort on his part before the two of you were walking side by side. 

“You know who I am, then?”

You shrugged. “It’s not hard to tell you and your cronies apart.” 

Theodore grinned lazily and cocked his head at you. He squinted against the faint light, no doubt trying to ascertain a hint of your identity from underneath the gold mask. 

“It hardly seems fair. You know who I am, but I have no idea who you are.”

You smirked at him. “I’m Sally, remember?” 

“Does that mean I’m your Jack?” 

“For the night, at least.”

He seemed content with that answer. “Where are we headed now, little witch?”

“The Graveyard.”

Theodore appeared slightly baffled, but brooked no argument as you led him through a thicket of trees. You chuckled at the sight of him following you blindly. “A strange girl just told you she was leading you to a graveyard and you didn’t even bat an eyelash. I thought you Slytherins were all about self-preservation?”

“I have no intention of preserving myself tonight,” Theodore drawled. “Feel free to ruin me, Sally.”

“I suppose you think you’re rather charming, don’t you Jack?”

“I don’t think, darling. I know.” 

You rolled your eyes and walked toward the lone tombstone in between the weeping willows. Theodore watched as you waved your wand and muttered an incantation. The ground rumbled beneath your feet, clearing the leaves until an ominous set of stairs appeared in front of the grave. 

Theodore peered over your shoulder. “I suppose you won’t be telling me what’s down there, will you Sally?” 

“Don’t worry, Jack. I’ll hold your hand in case you get scared.” 

It was meant to be a joke, but Theodore took the jest to heart and slipped his hand into yours. You smirked as you intertwined your fingers. If he thought a little hand holding would bother you, then Theodore had no idea what he was in for tonight. 

“Lead the way, love.”

You led him down the steps, plunging into darkness the lower you went. Theodore took the opportunity to press up behind you and kept a hand on your waist as the two of you descended. He was so close that the scent of his expensive cologne mixed with cigarette smoke assaulted your senses.  

A red hazy light flashed up ahead. The pounding music and excited chatter of your fellow classmates grew louder as you and Theodore were transported into the speakeasy. The bar was stocked with alcohol, shots and cocktails floating mid-air with themed drinks like Merlin’s Mourge-a-rita, Witches’ Brew, and Cauldron Colada. You hailed Parvati down who was apparently serving as the bartender tonight along with her twin sister. 

“We’ll take two El Diablos.” 

Theodore raised a brow, but didn’t protest as Parvati presented the shots in front of you. Your fellow housemate also floated a salt shaker and a bowl of limes on the counter. You sprinkled salt on the back of your hand and grabbed a lime wedge in preparation. Theodore did the same, minus the lime. 

“Bottoms up, Jack.” 

“Cheers, Sally.”

After licking the salt off of your hand, you clinked your glass against Theodore’s and knocked the drink back. The El Diablo certainly lived up to its name. The drink was a combination of tequila mixed with pepperup potion and topped off with a hint of cayenne. Needless to say, it had a bit of a kick. 

With a slight grimace, you bit down on the lime, which helped with the unpleasant aftertaste. Theodore caught your wrist and held your gaze as he directed your hand up to his mouth. He mimicked your move and sucked hard on the lime, his lips brushing your fingers as he licked the juice from where it had dribbled onto your palm. 

A shiver snaked down your spine. You may be a shameless flirt, but Theodore was definitely matching your energy. 

“I can’t believe the twins built a speakeasy down here,” Theodore said. He leaned in close so you could hear him over the music. “I’m almost impressed.” 

“I’ll tell my wardens you said that.” 

“You keep calling them that,” Theodore said, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You wouldn’t mean that one of the weasels is your ball and chain in a literal sense, right?”

“Are you jealous, Jack?” 

He smirked. “I just want to know which twin I’m sending to the infirmary tonight.”

You chuckled. “I’m not dating Fred or George. I just owe them a favour. Speaking of which, I’ve got some men to scare. Be a good boy and wait for me here.”

Theodore shook his head. “Oh, I’m not letting you out of my sight. I’m yours for the night, remember?” He toyed with the laces on your corset and pulled you towards him, your breasts pressing against the hard muscles of his chest. “I have a proposition for you, little witch.”

You quirked a brow, which made Theodore chuckle darkly. “Not that kind of proposition, principessa.” He twirled the lace between his fingers. “I say we terrorise the student body together.” 

“You want to help me do my job?”

Theodore shrugged. “Why not? We can be partners in crime.” 

You cocked your head. It certainly would be more fun to have someone else partake in your chore. Curling your fingers around his maroon tie, you pulled Theodore down to your level. His gaze flickered to your mouth and you couldn’t help the thrill that buzzed in your veins as you watched him swallow thickly. 

“You’ve got a deal, Jack.” 

As it turns out, Theodore was an excellent partner in crime. The two of you concocted a rather effective formula to inflict fear upon your classmates. The Red Room soon became your hunting grounds. In the creepy blood soaked maze, Theodore chased groups through the enchanted room while you lurked in the shadows. As soon as they thought they were safe from skull face, the groups were then led right into your trap. 

You could hardly count the amount of people you scared shitless tonight. 

Eventually the two of you returned to the bar for more drinks. You ordered another round of shots, which Theodore accepted without question. By the time you were six shots deep, the tequila had annihilated any sense of personal space between you. Theodore leaned down to take a sip of your drink. 

“Trying to get me drunk, love?”

“That depends,” you quipped back. “How many drinks do I need to plie you with until you agree to dance?” 

“With you? I’d say yes while stone cold sober.”

You grinned. “Come on, then.”

Theodore allowed you to guide him away from the bar and into the throng of your fellow classmates. It was total debauchery out on the dance floor. The music pulsed seductively as bodies writhed to the hypnotic beat and the red light bathed the crowd in a sinister glow as the alcohol loosened both limbs and lips. 

The warmth of the tequila made you feel flushed, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Theodore’s hands on your waist. With your back pressed against his chest, you swayed your hips to the beat of the music. You rocked side to side and grinded against him, which caused his grip to tighten. Theodore’s fingers dug into your sides as you wrapped an arm around his neck and arched your back against his chest. 

His dark lashes fluttered as your lips brushed against the column of his throat. Theodore shuddered when you nipped at his skin. A low groan escaped his mouth as he tried to chase your lips, but you dropped low to the floor and left him in a daze. 

Theodore caught your wrist and pressed you flush against him. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s not polite to tease?’ 

“Do I look like someone who gives a shit about being polite?” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “You should know that I have a terrible habit of playing with my food.” 

Theodore smirked and fisted your hair between his fingers. “And you should know that I have no qualms about being toyed with. As long as you promise to devour me later, little witch.”

You brushed up against him and felt his hardness rub against you. “Cross my heart and hope to die. I’ll get my taste of you tonight.” He inhaled sharply as you tugged him down to you. His eyes fluttered, fully expecting a kiss. “But before that, would you be a dear and get me another drink? I’m absolutely parched.”

A pained expression dawned on his handsome features. Theodore was fully aware of the little cat and mouse game you were playing, but he seemed keen to play along. If only to please you. 

“You’re killing me, bella,” Theodore said with a sigh. He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss on your cheek, a promise of what was to come. “I’ll be right back. Stay here, yeah?” 

“Don’t take too long,” you said with a wink. “I might get impatient.”

With that, Theodore hustled back to the bar. You chuckled at the sight. Your amusement only grew as Chloe approached. As soon as she was within reach, you tugged your friend onto the dancefloor. She happily obliged, the moves flowing naturally. The two of you were known to bring the whole house down at countless parties. 

“I take it Riddle hasn’t found you yet?” 

“No, but he’s close.” Chloe shouted over the music, motioning to the bar where her boyfriend was currently standing. Mattheo, Theo, and Draco were talking in hushed whispers, looking rather serious. 

“Gettin’ colder, he and Draco are heading toward the exit.”

The poor Slytherin was chasing after some unsuspecting blonde girl who looked a lot like Chloe from behind. A mischievous grin curved against her lips as she watched Theodore weave his way back to you, toting a drink in each hand. 

“Is that Theodore Nott you’re flirting with?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” you replied with a coy smile. “He doesn't know it’s me, though, so if he asks you, you have no idea who I am tonight.”

“My lips are sealed.” 

With a wink, Chloe slipped away just as Theodore returned. He handed you a drink and watched as you sipped it slowly. Theodore downed his cocktail in less than a minute and tossed his cup into the nearest trash can. 

“Impatient, aren’t we?” 

“You promised a taste.” 

You smirked, chugging the rest of your drink and wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. Theodore watched intently as you set the empty cup down. “Come and get it, then.”

The words had barely left your lips before Theodore kissed you. There wasn’t a hint of timidness in the way that his lips crashed against yours, a soft moan escaping his mouth as he tilted your chin up to gently bite down on your lower lip. You gasped when he nipped at you, leaving your mouth open for his tongue to slide into. 

The taste of him was intoxicating as he massaged your tongue against his, licking the roof of your mouth before he kissed you sloppily, open-mouthed and positively obscene despite the crowd dancing around you. What started out as a kiss turned into a full blown make out session in the middle of the dance floor. Neither one of you felt a hint of shame as you shared another filthy kiss. With a groan, Theodore’s hands roamed along your back and squeezed when he reached your ass. 

“Fuck, you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” 

You smirked, already equipped with a salacious response when your gaze caught on the clock behind the bar. It was nearly midnight and the twins had instructed all the actors and actresses to gather in the main entrance for the grand finale. Fred and George would have a fit if they found out you had abandoned your post. The twats would probably demand another favour out of you. There was no way you were going to shackle yourself to the Weasleys a second time. 

“Shit,” you hissed under your breath. “It’s almost midnight. I have to get back.”

“I thought you were my Sally,” Theodore drawled. He looked slightly dazed, his curly hair dishevelled and his lips swollen from your kisses. “Not Cinderella.”

“I’m being serious, Nott. If I’m not back before the clock strikes twelve, I’ll have to owe the twins another favour.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you back in time. Besides, if we’re playing into this whole Cinderella fantasy then let’s skip to the good part and see if it fits and by it I mean me inside of you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. Before you knew it, you were dragging Theodore out of the speakeasy. The two of you climbed the steps three at a time, nearly tumbling over one another as you raced up the stairs. The woods were dark and foreboding, but provided plenty of cover for your illicit activities. 

You tugged Theodore along by his tie and he pressed you against an oak tree, the bark biting at your exposed skin. You were kissing again in no time and the sounds the two of you made were downright lewd. Theodore reached for your mask, but you swatted his hand away. 

“The mask stays on.” 

He smirked. “I didn’t think it was possible to get any harder, but you seem to be an overachiever.”

“I aim to please.” 

Theodore smirked against your neck as he hiked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. His hand wandered underneath your skirt and those deft fingers of his teased along your soaked core. 

“You’re so fucking wet, little witch.” You groaned as he plunged his fingers between your folds. “Such a pretty cunt too. Will you clench this tightly around my cock when I fuck you?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” you whispered huskily. 

A stream of curses fell from Theodore’s lips, but not in a language that you understood. Italian, perhaps. Whatever it was, it sounded sexy as hell. You unbuckled his belt and slipped your hand into his trousers, feeling his hard length twitch in response. A choked groan rumbled through his chest as you pumped him between your fingers. 

You swallowed thickly. Theodore was long and hard, his cock almost too big to fit inside of you. But you always did like a challenge. 

Those watercolour eyes that had been pinned on you all night turned positively dark. The strange blue and green shade that you had grown familiar with was now swallowed by darkness, leaving Theodore with a gaze that would’ve rivalled Medusa’s. You felt it searing into your skin as you sank down on his length, biting your lip as he stretched your walls. 

“Merda,” Theodore cursed. “So fucking tight. C’mon pretty girl, that’s it. I know you can take all of me.” 

You shuddered a breath as he pushed inside. Theodore watched with hungry eyes as you took him inch by inch. It seemed never ending. “Fuck, you’re so big.” 

Tears pricked the back of your eyes. The stretch was an equal measure of pain and pleasure. You could feel every ridge and vein on his cock and your pussy hugged around him as he throbbed inside of you. 

Theodore caressed your cheek. “It’s alright, little witch. I know you can take it. I’m yours, remember? Your partner-in-crime. So use me, dolcezza. You’re in charge tonight. Just set the pace and I’ll follow.”

The reassuring words encouraged you to slowly grind against him. Theodore hissed as you lifted your hips until only his tip was inside of you. His mouth was hot and needy against yours as you grinded down to take all of him again.

“Che cazzo,” Theodore murmured as he bottomed out.

The drag of his cock was delicious. He filled you to the hilt and pressed his hand on your stomach to feel his length buried deep inside of you. The tightness it caused made the both of you groan. You rolled your hips and set a steady pace, lowering onto his cock over and over again while you whimpered.

“Oh, fuck. It feels like you’re splitting me apart.”

Theodore groaned as he sucked and nipped at your neck. The heat of his tongue was everywhere, leaving marks on your skin in his wake. It would be a pain in the ass to cover, but you didn’t care as you continued to ride him.

“Salazar fucking save me, your pussy feels like heaven.”

Theodore chuckled darkly as you clenched around him. He untied the laces of your corset impatiently, freeing your breasts from the constraints. Theodore brushed his thumb over your hard nipples before taking one into his mouth. He watched with eager eyes as you moaned, sucking and swirling his tongue while you picked up the pace. 

“You look so pretty when you fuck me,” Theodore hummed as he flicked his tongue against your stiffened peaks. “Ride me harder, little witch. That’s it. Yeah, roll your hips just like that. Good girl.”

“Gods, I didn’t expect you to have such a filthy mouth,” you said with a low laugh. “You’re always so quiet in class.”

“So we have a class together,” Theodore said as he thrusted upwards to match your pace. “I thought you sounded familiar.” 

“Is that so?” 

“It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite grasp it. I guess I’ll just have to pay extra attention to all the Gryffindor girls in my classes.”

“I’m a Gryffindor? How do you figure that?”

“Besides your entire personality? You seemed friendly with Granger and though you complain about the twins, I’d wager that you’re mates as well.” 

“Smart and handsome,” you said with a smirk.  “You’re full of surprises aren’t you, Jack?” 

Theodore smirked and thrusted sharply inside of you. “You have no idea, Sally.”

“I thought I was in charge tonight,” you said in a stern voice. 

“You are, but I think you could use a little encouragement. You’re holding back.” 

You circled your hips before lifting them and slamming back down. Theodore’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

“Does it feel like I’m holding back?” 

“I’m a patient man, but if you keep toying with me like this I might just have to fuck that attitude right out of you, little witch.” 

You tilted your chin up and smirked. “So do it.” 

All that bravado left your body as Theodore rutted into you. He drove his cock deep within you, stretching your walls until you were clawing at his back. Theodore grunted as you squelched and squeezed around his length. His pace was relentless and punishing, guiding your hips to bounce on his cock while you moaned in pleasure. 

“Oh gods, right there.” You cried out, burying your face into his neck. 

You inhaled his scent greedily and sank your teeth into his flesh. Theodore slowed his pace and chuckled darkly when you whined. 

“What’s the matter, little witch? Can’t take a dose of your own medicine?” 

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered. “Keep going. I’m so close.” 

“Beg me, darling. Tell me how desperate you are. I want to hear those pretty little words.” 

Theodore halted his movements, his tip barely inside of you as he teased along your folds. He held your hips in place so you couldn’t sink down to take more of him. Usually, you were used to taking charge, but the way he put you in your place had you creaming all over him. Needless to say, you weren’t above begging at this point. 

“Please, I need you. Fuck me harder. Give me everything. I can take it. Every fucking inch.”

“Merda, you’re fucking filthy. Begging for my cock like a good little slut. Brace yourself, bella. Remember that you asked for this.”

A whimper fell from your lips as Theodore bucked into your cunt. His cock impaled you, splitting you apart and knocking the very breath from your lungs as he fucked you roughly against the tree. He squeezed your ass, keeping a firm grip to secure you in place as he jackknifed into you. 

“Oh gods,” you sobbed, raking your nails underneath his shirt and dragging red lines all along his back. Theodore hissed as you clawed at him, thrusting so hard that your teeth rattled every time he drove into you. “Fuck, it’s too much.” 

Theodore grabbed your chin harshly. “No, it’s not. You begged to be fucked, now take my cock like the perfect little whore I know that you are, yeah?”

You nodded. Words escaped you at the moment. The filth coming out of Theodore’s mouth aroused you in more ways than one. Who knew that the silent Slytherin fucked like a god?

A stray tear rolled down your cheek. Theodore licked it away and chuckled as you whimpered. “Are you crying, sweetheart? Such pretty little sobs. Don’t worry, you’ll get your reward. You’ve been such a good girl for me and good girls get to cum.”

At that, Theodore rubbed your clit and pushed you over the edge. His fingers were magic against your sensitive bundle of nerves and it wasn’t long before you were clenching around him, making his hips stutter as the orgasm blindsided you. A scream echoed through the woods and it was only when Theodore covered your mouth when you realised that the sound had come from you. 

“Fuck,” Theodore cursed, dropping his forehead to yours. “Merda, I’m not gonna last much longer. Not when that pretty pussy of yours is milking me dry. Oh gods, I’m gonna cum—“

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist as his body seized underneath you. Theodore bit into your flesh as he came, leaving a bruised purple mark on your collarbone. You had never seen anyone look as beautiful as he did when he lost control, lips parted, cheeks flushed, devil eyes rolling back as the orgasm thoroughly rocked him. 

The stillness that settled over the Forbidden Forest was almost eerie. The two of you looked at one another, dazed and confused as though you weren’t even sure who or where you were at the moment. Through all your romps, no one has ever put your body to the test like Theodore has. You could tell by his intense gaze that he likely felt the same. 

Theodore set you down gently. Compared to how rough he was a few moments ago, the contrast almost made you laugh. You heard the chime of the clock echo a beat later. 

Fuck. That only gave you a minute to sprint through the woods and make it back in time before the twins reached your clearing. You frantically re-tied your corset and straightened the skirts of your dress. Theodore was busy buckling his belt. 

“I have to go,” you said as you shrugged your robe back on. “I’ll see you around, Jack.”

“Wait, you never told me your name!” 

But Theodore was too late. You were already gone by the time he looked up. He sighed and started making his way back to the festivities. The last chime of the clock indicated that it was midnight. He could only hope that you’d gotten back in time. 

Theodore paused as something crunched underneath his feet. He peered down at the forest floor and found something golden peeking out amongst the leaves. With a smile, he picked up the golden mask. 

It looks like his mystery girl left him a clue after all. 

Theodore would find his Sally. 

He’d make sure of it. 

Theodore couldn’t remember the last time he was this excited to attend class. 

After the All Hallow’s Eve party, he’d done everything he could to dig up information on his mystery girl. Theodore had even gone as far as to interrogate the Weasley twins, but as usual, the redheaded menaces were unnecessarily difficult about it. 

“Sorry, mate, but we don’t reveal the identity of our actors and actresses,” George said with a shit-eating grin. 

Fred nodded in agreement. “Confidentiality and all that. We wouldn’t want to go around spilling trade secrets. It’s bad for business.”

The weasels stayed mum even after Theodore offered them a ridiculous amount of money to reveal his mystery girl’s identity. Unfortunately, his desperation only served to intrigue the twins and the sadistic little gits seemed to derive pleasure in seeing Theodore grow more and more frustrated. 

“Best of luck to you, Nott,” Fred said with a little smile. “If you do end up finding her, you’ll need all the fortune you can get. She’s a feisty thing, that one.” 

“I know,” Theodore said with a glare. “That’s exactly why I want to find her.”

George chuckled. “Godric bless your heart.”

If the twats weren’t his main weed suppliers, Theodore would’ve punched their teeth in. Despite Fred and George’s general uselessness, he was in a good mood when Monday rolled around. Equipped with the knowledge that his mystery girl was in one of his classes, he made sure to pay extra attention to every Gryffindor girl. It was only a matter of time before he found her. 

“You’re smiling,” Enzo commented as he caught up to Theodore in the courtyard. “What’s happened? Did my cousin fall down the moving stairs again?”

Theodore snorted. “Even better, Berkshire. I’m going to find my mystery girl today and you’re going to help me.”

“How?” 

“You’re friends with literally everyone. Someone has to know who she is.”

“Hmm, come to think of it Mattheo’s girlfriend is good friends with a lot of the Gryffindor girls. I bet she’d know who it is.” 

“Good, let’s start there. Where is Chloe anyways?” 

“Probably in the Great Hall with Mattheo.”

The two of them headed over to where the rest of the castle was currently having breakfast. Enzo made a beeline for their usual table where Mattheo, Blaise, and Draco were seated, but Thedore didn’t follow. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Chloe seated with a girl who looked vaguely familiar to him. Theodore was sure that you had Charms together. More than that, you were wearing a red and gold tie. A Gryffindor. 

Theodore inched closer, skirting around the edges to listen in on the conversation. 

“How was your weekend?” 

Theodore froze. He knew that voice. It was husky and seductive and sounded exactly like how his mystery girl had when she’d whispered in his ear. 

It was you. 

It had to be. 

“It was good,” Chloe responded with a grin. “Really good.” 

“Mattheo found you after all, then?” 

“He did and suffice to say he liked the second part of my costume more than the first.” 

You laughed in response. Chloe leaned in and lowered her voice. “What about you? You disappeared from the speakeasy, so I’m assuming I’m not the only one who had an eventful night.”

“It was fine.” 

“Just fine?” 

You flushed, biting your bottom lip. “It was the best lay of my life.” 

Theodore smirked. So it wasn’t just him, then. The sex had truly been something else entirely. He had been confident that you must’ve felt the same way in the moment, but doubt crept in since you’d run off so abruptly. Now he had confirmation and it was satisfying as hell to hear you say it. 

“There you are,” Enzo said from behind him. “I brought Mattheo, so we can ask Chloe about your mystery girl.”

“That little witch of yours really put a spell on you, huh, Nott?” Mattheo teased. “Let’s go, then. Maybe my girl can help.”

Chloe looked up and smiled as Mattheo leaned down to kiss her. You glanced up at the exact moment that Theodore came into view. He clocked the way your cheeks flushed as your gaze landed on him.

“You know my boyfriend,” Chloe said. You nodded at Mattheo who shot you a polite smile back. “That’s Enzo and Theo. Boys, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet the boys.” 

Theodore took your hand and brushed his lips against your knuckles. “Hello, Sally.” 

You smiled back in return. “Hello, Jack.”

Chloe’s eyes widened, immediately taking stock of the situation. Mattheo and Enzo were slower to catch on, but luckily she ushered the boys away. 

“We’ll give you two some privacy.” 

You tried not to laugh as Chloe winked behind Theodore’s back. 

“I found you.” 

“So it seems.” 

“I guess you won’t be needing this anymore,” he said as he pulled out the golden mask from his backpack. Theodore’s intense gaze swept over you, cataloguing your features. 

“You kept it,” you said with a small smile. 

“I would’ve returned it sooner if you hadn’t left in such a haste after we—“

“Fucked in the woods?” 

You were amused to find Theodore blushing. “I was going to say hooked up, but I suppose that’s another way to put it. Anyways, you left in such a hurry. You didn’t even give me your name.”

“Didn’t really think you wanted me to stay.”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t been about to think about anything else since that night. You’ve taken over my thoughts. It’s fucking maddening.” Theodore caressed your cheek and tilted your chin so he could look at you better. “My mystery girl. You’re more beautiful than anything I could’ve ever imagined.” 

“Well, you have the real thing now. It’s your move, Jack.”

Theodore shook his head. “No, not Jack. Theo. That’s the name you’ll be screaming from now on. After I take you out on a proper date.”

You raised a brow. “What makes you think I’ll say yes?”

The devilish grin on his face sent shivers down your spine. “You’re really going to turn down the best lay of your life?” Your eyes widened, which made him smile even wider. “That’s right, sweetheart. You’re not the only one who can sneak up on people. So, what do you say?” 

“Pick me up at eight. Don’t be late, Theo.” 

Theodore winked. “It’s a date, Y/N.”

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar

[hussyknee]

I know some dickheads have now decided that Judaism is the "bad, violent, terrorist religion" and Islam is the "good, peaceful" one, which is only to be expected of white people, but how much of an issue is it currently? Like I've seen some USAmericans sharing how the Islamic faith shapes Gazans values and perseverance (good) except with that distinct white hippie "I'm about to imprint on this like the world's most racist duck" vibe (bad), but I didn't think they're already turning on Judaism in numbers.

Do they realize that Christianity is also the same kind of comfort to Christian minorities in Asia and Africa? That it was Buddhists that genocided the Rohingyas in Myanmar and Tamils in Sri Lanka? That Hindu fundamentalists are even now trying to ethnically cleanse Muslims in India? How Hindus and Christians are terrorized and persecuted in Pakistan? That Muslims have a history of persecuting and ethnically cleansing Jews too?

Really tired of asking y'all to be normal about people's religions man. There's no religion that's inherently violent or exceptionally peaceful. It's just like any other ideology that becomes a weapon in the hands of ethnic power. Interrogate power, not religion, and respect people's belief systems insofar as they aren't in your business.

Edit: I've amended the "long history" of Muslim persecution of Jews because it might be misleading in the current political climate. Zionism and antisemitic Arab nationalism are twin births resulting directly from Christian colonization, and Islamic empires tended to actually be more tolerant of other religions compared to Christianity, especially Judaism, which was considered a sibling religion. Antisemitism wasn't ideologically entrenched in Islamic tradition. It's simply that ethno-religious power will lead to ethno religious domination and intermittent cleansing of minorities, and Islam is no exception. Humans be humaning always.

[littleabriel-blog]

I once took a political science class in college, an older student in a class of early 20 somethings. We were given a quiz, to identify various countries that had been in the news on a map.

Most of the students though Iraq was actually South Africa, Venezuela was Turkey, and Australia was somewhere in the vicinity of Siberia.

So I am not surprised at all that teens and early 20s people today have no clue as to how the political system works and harbor these delusional notions of some grand, glorious Revolution happening that they are perfectly fine sacrificing poor people, religious minorities, and women for.

"The Left is no longer safe, and the Right never was."

I see this sentiment often from progressive Jews (so most of us in some way). Let me be very clear. The left was never safe either.

Do you think that so many people were radicalized overnight? That on the early morning of October 7, leftists across the West opened their phones and in that moment became antisemites, able to fall for the clearest of propaganda and simultaneously cheer on and deny Jewish suffering?

The left was always capable of this. They only began to clearly enunciate how bloodthirsty and how fundamentalist they were out loud when the right minority was targeted. Their exception, so they can still enjoy the luxury of ganging up on an 'underdog' usually reserved for the right.

October 7th could have been last January 7th. It could have been in 2018. It could have been in 2006 if social media algorithms were as developed, and would have had the same response.

The left has never been safe. They've just been easier to ignore.

[strangestcase]

tomblr discourse in the monster high universe must be something else.

0 notes

💝​ lalalala Follow

What would I do without cherry smoothies... probably die again 💔​

🟥​ b3lfrypr3pz-deactivated09182022

Of freaking course the frilly daywalker is a vegan 😒​ bet you do witchcraft too you dirty hippie

💝​ lalalala Follow

🝢🜊🝣🝗🜚🝰

🟥​ b3lfrypr3pz-deactivated09182022

WTF is that lol

🟥​ b3lfrypr3pz-deactivated09182022

i t burns. wh at did you do to me .

💝​ lalalala Follow

^-^

17k notes

🧠​ msdeadfast Follow

Ok but Dead Fast: Night of the Living (2002) has no business being considered the worst Dead Fast movie when the MCU (Murder Cinematic Universe) not only retconned his origin story to make him a virus zombie rather than a curse zombie (which throws off his entire arc about being something more than his deeds!) AND made him be allied with B.L.I.G.H.T. of all organizations because Like say what you will about NOTL and the forced heterosexual romantic plot but at least 1) it gets what makes Dead Fast a hero and 2) GIVES HIS LOVE INTEREST A PERSONALITY AND SOMETHING TO DO

🕷️ 8legscomix Follow

Literally

Also they made the villain Dr. Igorable's motivations so laughable like..... so his wife got turned into a zombie and he wants to cure her? Ok? Did she ask for it? She doesn't even have any groaning lines. Im not even a zombie but that was offensive as hell. Like in the original comics he wants to straight up undo all forms of zombism forever

🧠​ msdeadfast Follow

NO FR LIKE....... so suddenly the eugenics obsessed human is tragic because being a zombie must be such a tragedy you guyyyysssss -_- and wanting to get rid of an entire monster type is ok. I swear that movie has turned monster attitudes towards zombies back into the 80s

⚠️ mentalhealth-hazard Follow

I am not sure if I'm overstepping here but, furthermore, the addition of Pendulum to the movie was unnecesary. Stereotyping shapeshifters as untrustworthy and traitorous is something of a past era. Either leave the character behind, or change it entirely.

🧠​ msdeadfast Follow

Jackson I love you and I love your takes. but you type like a Victorian in his deathbed ;-;

⚠️ mentalhealth-hazard Follow

The MCU is so dreadful, it's irrevocably turned me into one.

#It has also substracted years off my lives.

23 notes

🌊​ lacriatura Follow

🦈​🦐​🐠🪸​​🐡​🐟​

^ aquarium!

#lagoona's originals #ocean #sealife #ah-! so refreshing <- aesth tag

26k notes

🔥 666firepit666 Follow

Not to vague anyone but some of you have to shut the freak up about the ocean. You don't see me making little dioramas of the Malebolge because I'm not a little cringelet like you lmao

1 note

🌊​ lacriatura Follow

If you don't freaking love the ocean don't follow the ocean tag. Yes that goes for @666firepit666, square up and fight me if you're so brave Heath!!!!

#lagoona's originals #personal #more skulls for my skull collection!!!

10 notes

🌙​ wolf-in-chic-clothing Follow

Day 1 no toxic doomed yuri

🌙​ wolf-in-chic-clothing Follow

WRONG SIDEBLOG

#stop reblogging this

80k notes

🔩​ stitchez Follow

Got a new arm! Can't wait to try it out!

🐯 ninelives Follow

try it out how 🤨​

🔩​ stitchez Follow

Building a wretched creature out of corpses, of course!

🔩​ stitchez Follow

OH that was a double entendre! You should be ashamed of yourself!

🔩​ stitchez Follow

I would never use my arms for violent purposes!

54 notes

🔥 666firepit666 Follow

Lagoona dragged me into the pool and now my hair is out 😡​

🌙​ wolf-in-chic-clothing Follow

Skull issue.

🧠​ msdeadfast Follow

skull issue

👻​ ghostlygossip01 Follow

Skull issue. Take the L

💝​ lalalala Follow

Skull issue ^-^

🐯 ninelives Follow

skull issue lmao

🔩​ stitchez Follow

Skull issue! I dont know what that means but I'm sure it relates to your experience!

🎸​ innerdemon Follow

SKULL ISSUEEEEEEEEE !!!!!!!

🔥 666firepit666 Follow

Your own cousin 🥲​

🎸​ innerdemon Follow

I AM NOT RELATED TO ANY BALD PEOPLE

105 notes

💎​ scarab-g1rl Follow

Alright, who stole my sinister amulet?

[rocketbirdie]

Weird thing that bothered me about Rebirth and I want to hear other people's thoughts.

Um... Why did they gentrify Gongaga? I can't be the only one who feels cheated by the chummy suburban development vibe in Rebirth.

OG Gongaga is an isolated village deep in a jungle. It's possible to completely miss the first chance to visit, because it's practically unheard of. All the young folks fled to the big city. A reactor blew up and killed most of the inhabitants, leaving the town in a state of decay. The houses are falling apart, the people are desperate, it's derelict and miserable.

An understated theme in the OG is how life is difficult without modern technology. Avalanche sets out to destroy these reactors without considering the consequences for their own futures, thinking "well it won't be easy but i'm sure it'll be fine." Gongaga is the story's way of showing you just how fine everything is going to be— despite being in a lush rainforest, long since violently cut off from Shinra's influence, these people still suffer immensely.

I wanted to see it in hd so bad honestly. The splintered rotting wood, the furskin rugs, the dirty brick walls. The unspoken yet unignorable trauma. The mournful purple twilight that quietly hangs over the whole village. I wanted to see the survivors' spiteful determination to make things work without mako.

Instead we got a squeaky clean Crisis Core rendition of Gongaga, with its down-to-earth upbeat stardew valley soundtrack and generic hard workin' country folk. The houses are like... twice the size i expected them to be. Neat and tidy, no holes in the roofs, no dishevelled interiors. No sign of struggle. Everybody is content at worst.

The reactor may as well have never exploded. Nobody talks about it. We hear some bullshit about Shinra trying to "make amends" or compensate people for the damages, and that's about it. Apparently everybody's just fine with this, because all of the original version's resentment and grief is gone.

Don't even get me started on the barker stationed at the town entrance. "Come experience nature's bounty!" Man... why are we treating it like a goddamn hippy tourist attraction. OG Gongaga would have had someone knock this kid's teeth out.

Idk I'm just sad. The melancholy is what made Gongaga so memorable despite its bump-in-the-road identity. I wish we could have gotten that instead of one big callback to CC.

[mahoutoons]

i'm feeling controversial today so here's another hot take. and before you type away at your keyboards, know that this is all coming from a south asian.

white leftists have got to stop acting like christianity is the only religion that deserves to be criticized and you cannot touch any other religion because that'd be racist and bigoted. because as an indian who's watching my country progress towards hindu nationalism, this attitude doesn't help at all.

white people see hinduism as this exotic brown religion that's so much more progressive but don't know the violence of the caste system, how it others a large portion of the population on the basis of caste, literally branding them as "untouchables". they teach us in school that this problem is a thing of the past but the caste system is still alive and shows itself in violent ways. and that's not even covering how non hindus are treated in the country. muslims especially are being killed, have their houses bulldozed, businesses destroyed, and are being denied housing, our fucking prime minister called them infiltrators and there's this fear among hindu extremists that they'll outnumber the hindus in the country. portraying hinduism as this exotic religion does a disservice to all those oppressed by the hindutva ideology

similarly, white people see buddhism as this hippie religion that's all about peace but have no idea how extremist buddhists in myanmar have been persecuting the rohingya muslims for years and drive them out of the country.

if anything portraying these religions as exotic hippie brown religions is a type of orientalism itself.

and also y'all have got to realize that just because christianity has institutional power in america doesn't mean there aren't parts of the world where they are persecuted on the basis of religion. yes karen from florida who cries christophobia because she sees rainbow sprinkles on a cake is stupid but christian oppression DOES exist in non western countries where they're a minority. pakistani christians get lynched almost on a daily basis over blasphemy accusations. just look up the case of asia bibi, a pakistani christian woman who was sentenced to death on blasphemy charges because of something she said when she was being denied water because it was "forbidden" for a christian and a muslim to drink from the same utensil and she'd made it unclean just by touching it (which is ALSO rooted in casteism and part of pakistani christians' oppression also comes from the fact that a lot of them are dalit but that's a whole other discussion). and that's just one christian group, this isn't even going into what copts, assyrians, armenians etc have faced and continue to face. saying that christians everywhere are privileged because of american christianity actually harms christian minorites in non western countries.

and one last thing because this post is getting too long: someone being anti america doesn't automatically mean they're the good guys. too many times i've been seeing westerners on twitter dot com praise the fucking taliban just because they hate america. yes, the same taliban who banned education for women, thinks women should be imprisomed at home, and consistently oppresses religious and ethnic minorities in afghanistan. yes, america's war on afghanistan was bad and they SHOULD be called out for their war crimes there. no, the taliban are still not the good guys. BOTH of them are bad. you cannot pretend to care about muslims and brown people if you praise the taliban. because guess what? most of their victims are BROWN MUSLIM WOMEN. but of course white libs who praise them don't rub their two braincells together to make that conclusion.

this post has gotten too long and i've just been rambling so the point of this post is: white "leftists" whose politics are primarily america centric should stop acting like criticism of ideologies like hindutva, buddhist extremism, and islamic extremism BY people affected by these ideologies is the same as racism or religious intolerance because that helps literally no one except the extremist bigots. also america is not the centre of the world, just because something isn't happening in america doesn't mean it isn't happening elsewhere

[littledragonkeeper]

>Somewhere in-between Birdman blowing up the Millionaire's front door and the formation of the Hippeis

>The Millionaire tries bribing others to blow up his base because he didn't like how it looked and wanted to start over

>Vigilante answers the call (not caring about the money)

Can we appreciate the lunacy of season 9's plot so far?

>Bird man piles up diamonds to mine later

>Some of his neighbours also do this, but with more diamonds

>Neighbourhood-wide competition ensues

>Minor "war" over this, including missiles, portals and australian physics

>War ends, diamonds collected

>Everyone now has so many diamonds they have lost value

>Guy who is possibly part dog declares himself a king, and has everyone hand over all diamonds

>Dog Guy sets up a quest system with the diamonds as rewards

>Economy re-stabilises

> Dwarf hosts a DoomGuy themed party in Dog Guy's basement

>Dog Guy goes mad with power, recruits Zombie puppet-master, Flying Gun Vigilante, Literal Basement-Dweller (Positive) and Joe Hills. He also bans partying

>Local soup-obsessed Dwarf, Elf and Janitor start a revolution based on a vague interpretation of a prompt from a moustache-themed robot from another dimension.

>They recruit Birdman to assist their resistance and assassinate the King

>Civil unrest leads to a full scale revolt and raiding of the King's vault

>The King is killed by the elf and freed from a curse that made him evil

>Moustache Robot reopens dimensional tear and shenanigans ensue, including the Janitor being a Goddess

>Other dimensional visitors follow them back through the portal, hang out for a few weeks, and leave.

>A trading card game exists and is actually pretty cool