#and neither was the other teacher/aide

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Rant

I love my job because I love working with kids. I love seeing them grow and watching the ways their little minds work and helping them when they need it.

I also hate my job because I'll get used and abused all day, having to do things that AREN'T MY RESPONSIBILITY because literally no one else is paying attention to the kids, I am the only one watching even though I'm NOT the teacher, I'm NOT the classroom aide, I am a one-on-one.

But I CARE. I care so FREAKING MUCH about these kids that I can't just not do anything. I have TRIED to not do anything. It never works. And it's maddening and I hate it I hate it I hate that I can be USED in this way.

But by God these kids do not deserve to suffer just because I'm the only adult in the room willing to DO MY GOSHDANGED JOB so I do more than I should because these are LITTLE PEOPLE who don't UNDERSTAND. I want to wear a shirt every day that says, "I'm doing this FOR THE KIDS."

I just wish somebody else would do it for them too.

[ghostespresso]

wild thought what if people were actually paid to do their jobs instead of expecting them to do everything out of the kindness of their hearts? what then?

[breelandwalker]

The Web of Light - A Community Ritual

In late January of 2025, I joined a group of witches online to conduct a ritual for the protection and healing of our communities and for hope to sustain us though the weeks and months to come. Many wonderfully talented people contributed to this working, and I was honored to present an invocation of Brighid and to lead the portion of the ritual where we created the Web of Light.

With the permission of the rest of the circle from that evening, I want to share my portion of the ritual with all of you. (I'm not looking for notes or feedback - this was purpose-built and it exists as it was written.) The more strands in the web, the more lights in the dark, the more love and energy we can give this spell and others like it, the better.

If you feel comfortable doing so, I'd like to invite anyone who is willing to help to join in this working, either by yourself or with your circle. You can do the full blessing, invocation, and casting if you feel comfortable doing so, or just the casting alone. Feel free to invite any helpful spirits, ancestors, deities (especially fire-related), and so forth that you work with to lend their aid.

All you need for this spell is a quiet place to sit and a candle. (Live flame or LED, either is fine, and if you can't find either one, a flashlight will do.)

Perform whatever opening steps you usually do to begin a ritual (preparing the space, casting a circle, grounding and centering, etc) and when you're ready, begin.

WEB OF LIGHT

Suggested Music for the warmup:

"Brighid's Flame" and/or "Brighid" by Kellianna "Imbolc" by Lisa Thiel

[BLESSING]

Into this sacred space, I call the light of creation, the light of inspiration, the light of healing, the light of the forge, the light of the hearthfire, the light of hope, which neither wanes nor falters, but burns bright and perpetual within and around us all. Bless those who are gathered here and may the spirits, deities, ancestors, and powers almighty that we invoke here strengthen our resolve, shield us from harm, and guide us in our workings, as we gather to do what is RIGHT, not what is easy.

[INVOCATION]

With the consent of those assembled, I invoke the name of Brighid and invite her presence in this place. Holy Lady of Cill Dara (pron. Kill Dahrah), protector of hearth and home, teacher, poet, healer, forgemaiden, flamekeeper, living link between the old ways and the new, be with us and lend us your aid.

Brigid of brightness, I bid thee welcome, Brigid of blessing, come thou in. Brigid of strength, I bid thee welcome, This night and every night, this day and every day.

Brigid of the threshold, come thou in, Brigid of the hearthfire, take your ease, Brigid of the cook-pot, sup with us, Brigid of all comforts, live in our hearts.

Ancestors all, I embody your legacy, Ancestors all, I ask for your blessing, Ancestors all, I offer Brigid’s flame To light the needfires of deep memory.

Brigid of the timeless flame, bless your [children]: Those who keep the circle bright, Those whose faith has never failed, Those who keep your name ablaze.

Brigid, lend your righteous sword To those who work for justice, To those who speak the truth, To those who seek a better world.

In the name of Brigid, who empowers the oppressed, In the name of Brigid, who released the enslaved, In the name of Brigid, who lifts up the downtrodden, May all our people be honored and free.

[Casting]

Tonight, we come together with courage. Tonight, we come together with hope. Tonight, we come together in common purpose, to turn our combined strength to save what can be saved, to shield what can be shielded, to heal what can be healed, to burn away what must be cleansed, and to keep the darkness of despair and hatred at bay.

Tonight, each of us is a point of light. We are the tenders of the hearth. We are the bearers of the flame which lights the way. We are the workers at the forge. We are the spark before the fire, the dancing light upon the snow, the seekers of snowdrops, the keepers of the healer’s tent, the knowers of the promise of spring.

For even as summer fades into fall, and fall into winter, so the cold and dark must one day yield to warmth and renewal. Even the longest night must end and we will see the sun rise again.

(Light your candle.)

Hold the light within you. Warm, bright, everlasting, a fire which burns bright but does not consume or diminish. This is a fire which shields the helpless, which offers illumination to the lost, which gives hope to those in sorrow. Each of us alone is but a candle, but together, we are a conflagration. 

Picture the array of us, spread out across the sleeping world, a scattering of earthbound stars twinkling in the night. Physically, we are apart, but in our hearts and in our magic, we are all a part of each other and of this world. We are the weavers and keepers of this spell, a web that spans mighty distances and connects us all. We are the beacons which will hold the darkness at bay.

Let the light of your magic spread out from you like the lines of a spider’s web, like the roots of a tree, like the paths of a river, like the crackle of lightning. Picture it spreading across the distances between us, each strand connecting one working to another, and another, and another, strengthening with each bond, growing until the space is covered. Each of us holds a line and weaves a portion of the web, and we are blessed to know that none of us walks alone. 

Like the roots of the trees, like the mycelium of the mushrooms, this web of light is not visible to all. Those that seek to harm, to disrupt, to oppress, and diminish, let them be blind, let them be powerless, let them find nothing. We give them NOTHING. But those who have need of us, those who need healing or shelter or knowledge or hope, we give them eyes to see. And those that see, let them light beacons of their own, until the night is bright as day and the sun comes up again.

(Extinguish your candle. If you ever feel that you need strength or hope or the time feels right to further empower the spell, light it up again.)

Suggested Music for the cooldown:

“Star Maps” by S.J. Tucker

(If you choose to share this ritual elsewhere, please credit me. Thanks!)

[blueraith]

"How could Vi not notice her sister is suicidal?!"

I feel like people who ask this question have a fundamentally immature understanding of depression and suicidal thoughts/actions, and how the two affect people OUTSIDE of the person suffering from these conditions. Perhaps you guys are young, and you don't know how to view this matter outside of yourselves and your own perception, but it is tragically common for people to miss seemingly "obvious" details that lead up to a loved one's suicide. "I didn't notice anything was wrong" is about one of the most common refrains you'll hear after the fact.

Let’s also remember that Vi does not actually know all of Jinx's emotional tells or signs of an impending episode. She is confused each and every time Jinx goes through one and almost always unintentionally triggers her. This because it's been SEVEN FUCKING YEARS since they've seen, spoken to, or lived together.

Neither Jinx or Vi actually know the current versions of each other very well, it's one of the reasons they keep hurting each other, and part of the tragedy of their relationship.

Look, I have depression. I've had it since I was about 15 or so. I can recall self-isolating or worse and assuming my parents or friends or a teacher would notice and rush to my aid or something.

Never happened. Because depression isn't always a very obvious condition. People mask in different ways, and not always with the conscious intention to hide their symptoms. Sometimes, people with depression mask simply because it makes it slightly easier to get through the day. Jinx's case would likely be even more difficult to spot because of the manic side of her condition.

I ended up getting the bulk of my care taken care of as an adult. Mostly because I could finally advocate for myself and I also realized that NO ONE is going to notice the more alarming symptoms of my own depression better than me.

This is not to say that you can't have a support network. Or that members of that support network WON'T spot something you've overlooked from time-to-time.

But Vi is not Jinx's support network. (Arguably Sevika is far better placed for that.) She might have gotten there eventually if Act 2 hadn't ended the way that it had, but that dream of the sisters being able to recreate their lost family was shattered and the progress they were making in getting to know each other halted at Jinx's realization that she needed to leave for Vi to move on.

I don't know, it's like some of you expect everyone in your lives or in other, unrelated media to have a 13 Reasons Why style reaction any time someone shows symptoms of suicidal thoughts or actions, or when one occurs. This is almost an absurd thing to expect out of anyone unfamiliar with what depression or suicidal thoughts actually look like. Like, if you're American, this idea that everyone everywhere is familiar with what a mental health crisis looks like is even more tragically farcical because we can't even admit that poor mental health is an aspect of mass shootings here as a society and culture.

And y'all expect the ex-con stuffed into a box since the age of 15 or so to be able to just instantly spot that her sister--again whose symptoms she's very obviously not familiar with--is going through a crisis event?

Like, damn, no one in this fandom is cut more slack than Jinx, and this entire criticism of Vi makes that more clear than any other. It's a position ironically devoid of any and all empathy, probably because y'all spent it all on Jinx, and assumes a sort of selfishness and coldness towards Vi that is in no way, shape, or form supported by canon.

It's honestly an argument that I dismiss entirely the moment a person attempts to make it. Largely because I am exhausted of how hypocritical this aspect of the famdom becomes towards Vi. Jinx's actions are a large part of the reason Vi sinks into alcoholism. She then proceeds to taunt Vi about it in the mines as if Vi's pain is nothing to her.

I NEVER hear anyone talk about that. It's almost always about how Vi should have done better. How Vi hurt Jinx. How Vi wasn't good enough.

It's some Grade A, Bonafide Bullshit™

Vi and Jinx were never going to ride off into the sunset together. If that is something you thought was going to happen and are now irrationally blaming Vi for because you're disappointed....? I don't know what to tell you. I personally thought it was pretty obvious that they were Doomed Siblings in this storyline and any potential, permanent reconciliation between them may happen in some far off sequel project or not at all.

[intothemultifandom]

Auld Lang Syne || Chapter Two

<< Previous Chapter

Chapter Two

"Don't tell Ms. Park."

Gyeong-Su watches you rummage through the drawers in the infirmary, torn between confusion and an odd sense of fascination as you swipe bandages, creams and other loose items into your bag.

"Assuming whatever is wrong with Hyeon-Ju can't be spread, I'll return everything to Ms. Kim later and apologise. And I'll take complete responsibility if anyone asks," you explain in a hushed voice.

"Not that I'm hoping things will go bad, but I think it'd be good to have some supplies on hand just in case, you know?"

Gyeong-Su bites down his grin when you look over your shoulder with an almost sheepish expression. As if suddenly struck by your nervous rambling.

Your cheeks are flushed, and your nose is crinkled and everything happening is so unlike you but still so cute that Gyeong-Su reminds himself to thank Bare-Su for shoving him after you when he did. Even if he's now involved in whatever this is.

Truth be told, if it were anyone else raiding the infirmary just now, Gyeong-Su would've intervened right away. Told them to stop what they were doing before alerting Ms. Park or Ms. Kim once she was back, but it's you.

You wouldn't be Vice President if you didn't have everyones' best interest at heart and didn't think things through.

And if what happened this morning with Hyeon-Ju has you rattled enough to gather some supplies for your class, just in case, than who is Gyeong-Su to stop you?

You said you'd return it later anyway and apologise to both the school nurse and your homeroom teacher, and maybe Gyeong-Su's a little biased, but you're not exactly the deceitful type.

Besides being smart and sensible, you're honest, kind and so very pret–

"–Don't worry VP., your secret is safe with me," he says finally, saddling up to your side and, daringly, plucking the tube of anti-sceptic cream from your hand to shove into his pocket. A show of camaraderie in this odd endeavour of yours.

"Still never thought I'd catch you stealing from school, though," he can't help but tease. "How scandalous."

Ms. Kim wasn't in here when you arrived, and neither was Hyeon-Ju.

You'd seen her loaded into the back of an ambulance, Ms. Kim likely helping her. So call it a split second decision, but you figured now was as good a time as any to get some supplies while you had the chance.

You were just lucky Gyeong-Su, somehow following after you, was the kind of person to trust first and then ask questions later.

"Is it stealing when I said I'd return it later?" you retaliate, lip beginning to curl.

"And since you're here, hiding some cream in your pocket, doesn't that make you an accomplice? If I'm stealing, what are you doing, huh?"

Gyeong-su swallows down the laughter that catches in his chest, surprised by the teasing lilt in your tone.

He doesn't argue back, though.

He's too fixated by the small, relieved, smile you flash his way as you resume your search.

When you slide back into your seat, Nam-Ra doesn't point out that you've come back with no cleaning supplies nor does she comment about how much heavier your bag is when you hook it back onto your side.

Instead, your very kind and very merciful Class President arches a brow that says I hope you know what you're doing before she turns back to her work, deciding not to bother.

It's expected of her, really, and for the first time since you've set out to befriend her, you're glad for it.

Because you're not sure how to explain what you did in the infirmary.

On the other side of the room, your accomplice doesn't say anything about the first aid supplies in your bag and in his pockets either when he settles back into his seat.

Gyeong-Su doesn't even tell Cheong-San, whose eyes flit between the two of you with an almost delighted glint in them which you firmly ignore, thinking over the risky gamble you just took.

You hope, if the supplies aren't necessary after all that you can apologise to your homeroom teacher and the school nurse in private.

Because if someone like Joon-Yeong or Dae-Su found out what you'd done, caught a whiff of the irrational fear behind your actions than you wouldn't hear the end of it.

You may be our Vice-President, you can imagine Joon-Yeong chiding you. But this is ridiculous!

Fortunately for you, Ms. Park isn't in class when you return so there was no need to explain where you'd gone off too.

In fact, when she returns (which is a lot later than you were expecting), she doesn't question why everyone is huddled in the groups that they're in or why most of the class is congregated around I-Sak.

If anything, she's more focused on grabbing the locked box containing all your phones, something not everyone notices.

"Can I have my phone back?" Na-Yeon asks, eyes beginning to narrow as she picks at her chipped nail polish.

Immediately, all eyes are back on her, but Ms. Park wouldn't be a teacher if she didn't know how to remain undaunted by the weight of your stares because she presses her lips into a thin line, clutching the box even tighter.

"I'll be deciding on whether to return your phones after lunch," she says finally, after a moment.

"I'll be meeting with the rest of the faculty to discuss what's happened, but given the delicate nature of this morning–it would be best for the school to address this situation first before I give you back your phones. This is so you don't prematurely give out the wrong information."

You understand her reasoning, of course, but you don't like it. And judging from the frowns from a few others, you're not the only one. But Ms. Park is the teacher, so what else can you do?

Slowly, your eyes drift from your teacher back over to Gyeong-Su who seems to be ignoring an inquisitive Cheong-San, and you find that if there's any consolation, it's that you don't have to hand in the supplies you're both carrying just yet.

Of course, it seems your luck has run its course because just when he turns back to meet your gaze, eyes sparkling in that see? I haven't told kinda way, Ms. Park calls out to you and Dae-Su as the bell begins to the ring.

"Can you two find something to clean up Hyeon-Ju's blood, please?" she asks, turning out the door before you can object.

Nam-Ra laughs lowly by your side as you splutter, because she's sadistic like that. In fact, you take what you said earlier back. Your Class President isn't kind or merciful. And you hope she can read it just as well on your face as you flick her ear when you pass her by.

Dae-Su waves you over to his table with a grin as you join him, laughing at the sour face you're making before you leave together.

And going on this unplanned excursion would've been fine, you think, if not for the fact that by the time you and Dae-Su do find the nearest custodian closet, that's when the screaming starts.

[soukokuforthesoul]

“oh, yeah, we’re partners!” dazai said, patting the woman’s head reassuringly. “you’re in safe hands.”

“oh, thank god,” the woman breathed, as kunikida watched behind dazai for any movement. “so you two know each other well.”

“yep!” nodding, dazai helped the woman stand, allowing her to lean onto him. her injuries were light, but he was sure the shock of it all might hinder her ability to walk properly. much to his predictions, she wobbled, tilting into his hold.

“sorry,” she said quickly, a moment later. surprisingly, this was to kunikida, rather than dazai.

turning at the apology, kunikida frowned slightly. “huh?”

“i know you two are partners, i’m not trying to get in the way,” she murmured.

unsure what them being partners had to do with anything, kunikida shook his head. “it’s our job, ma’am, and we’ll do our best to do it properly. whatever you must do to keep yourself safe, you should proceed. we’ll adapt to it quickly, so there’s no need to apologize.”

“huh?” this time, it was the woman’s turn to be confused. she glanced at dazai. “ah, i meant… you two are partners, right?”

for a moment, both men simply stared at her. then understanding dawned on dazai’s face and a wide smile formed on his lips—though he did not share his discovery with kunikida, much to his distaste.

“ah! yes, yes, we are,” dazai said much too gleefully. “but not to worry. neither of us mind, else if we did our work would be much harder.”

“oh, alright,” the woman said, relieved, and allowed herself to be guided to safety.

once she was far enough from immediate danger, the two continued where they had left off before they found her, all the while making sure nothing in her vicinity would harm her. kunikida watched dazai’s near-diabolic grin for a moment before asking, “what was that all about?”

“oh, kunikida-kun, did you know that we’re dating?” dazai questioned so calmly that it took a moment for the inquiry to register.

nearly tripping on his own feet, kunikida struggled not to make a fool of himself in his shock. “what?!”

startled by the shout, the woman craned her neck, but finding no obvious source of stress, settled back down. dazai, meanwhile, continued with the mission as steadily as ever, ignoring kunikida’s indignant sputters.

“yes, yes, we’ve been dating since forever! you confessed in your sleep and we’ve been partners ever since,” dazai rambled, checking a discarded gun he’d picked up for bullets. it was empty, and he relaid the information to kunikida all whilst proceeding with his nonsense.

protesting, kunikida followed after him in his pursuit for clarity, almost missing the gun as dazai tossed it over to him for further inspection. he carefully put it away, still bombarding dazai with questions.

“what in the world are you going on about?” he demanded.

“partners, kunikida-kun,” dazai said, abruptly turning and tapping kunikida’s nose in a teacher-like manner, as if urging him to answer his own question. “she said we’re partners, right? and that we are!”

“we’re work partn—“ kunikida began, before pausing. “oh. oh, she misunderstood?”

“yes,” dazai agreed, failing to pat him. “good job, detective kunikida-kun. the case is solved.”

kunikida scowled. “why didn’t you just say—“

dazai interrupted him, waving off kunikida’s irritation. “it was obvious. i didn’t realize you could get so caught off guard that your brain might fly away, but that’s for another time. let’s get this over with and bring the poor lady home so she doesn’t think she’s caused a lovers’ quarrel.”

albeit annoyed, kunikida complied, huffing as he aided dazai in finishing the mission.

the woman, still close enough in proximity to hear them, wondered briefly why dazai hadn’t corrected her once he’d understood. then brushed it off, deciding that if he’d agreed with her, there must be something going on between the two. she went back to waiting patiently, watching them bicker from a distance.

[superbat-lmao]

It’s before Ethiopia and Bruce has asked for Dick’s help on a magic user case. Both of them get de-aged to 14/15.

So, we get Jason, who is more confident about his relationship with Bruce than he had been at 12, but was starting to get benched more often. Dick, who knows about Batman and Robin but doesn’t know Jason is adopted OR Robin. And teenage Bruce’s non-verbal ass who doesn’t know any of this. And poor Alfred, now looking after 3 teenagers with anger issues.

So Jason is the only one besides Alfred of any real understanding of what happened. Dick is trying to treat the situation like his first solo case without Batman since Bruce doesn’t know who either of them are, and Alfred is struggling to explain taking in two children Bruce’s age, and vigilantism, and magic.

After the boys prove they’re willing to do something incredibly dangerous without telling Alfred, he gives up and calls Clark. He’s the easiest way to convince Bruce he’s telling the truth about the world and will call in the Justice League to handle the magic user. Dick and Jason are pissed but Clark and Diana are there, so it’s not as bad as it could be.

There are too many people and Bruce is struggling the most to figure out how to act and for someone already non-talkative it’s even worse. He finds Diana waiting for him in his favorite quiet spot. Neither of them say anything for a long time. Eventually, Bruce breaks first and the two talk about what kind of person he becomes, how highly regarded he is in superhero circles and Gotham for being Batman and Bruce Wayne. But secretly, he’s most concerned about just being Bruce. About the two boys in his house that he’s a father to.

Dick and Jason really have it out. And sure, Dick’s skills surpass Jason’s at this age because he’s been an acrobat all his life, but Jason puts up a fight that’s dirty and mean and desperate. They clash badly and it’s brutal. Jason admits to not knowing about where the name Robin came from and Dick admits he’s not adopted. Dick starts to understand that Jason thinks Bruce only took him in so he could be Robin. And Jason starts to grapple with the fact he replaced Dick and took his family from him. They’re both miserable but they’re also both avoiding Bruce.

He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to talk to them and as the person who has the least understanding of what’s going on, they’ve been trying not to overwhelm him. Because they’re both pretty good at reading adult Bruce and this kid version looks like he’s gonna take off running at any minute.

Jason tries keeping to himself by reading in the library and Dick tries to stay in the cave but gets pushed out by the Justice League and has to do his workouts in the home gym. Bruce tries to stay in the kitchen with Alfred, who asks him to bring the other boys lunch and to try speaking with them for a few minutes.

Bruce asks Jason what he’s reading and is struck by how earnest he is, even if he’s defensive. It’s more honest than any of the other kids he goes to school with, who are concerned only with appearances and money. Bruce tells him what they’re covering in his own classes and Jason asks if any of the teachers are the same. Jason calls one old woman who was old when Bruce knew her a crone and it startles a laugh out of him. Jason thinks that maybe they’ll be okay.

Bruce finds Dick in the gym and watches him for a while. He startles him on accident and Dick lands on his ankle wrong. There’s a first aid kit in the gym so Bruce hands it to him and asks how he can help. Dick is surprised that Bruce knows this level of first aid this young and he admits to thinking about medical school and following his father’s footsteps.

Bruce is struck by how unlike other people Dick and Jason are. That if he had met them now, he’d like to think they’d have become friends. How they would have liked Harvey.

When the spell is reversed, Dick and Jason have a long talk about what it is to be brothers. Bruce and Jason talk about their relationship as being different from Batman and Robin. Bruce adopts Dick and they discuss his independence with a lot less yelling than normal.

[thefadecodex]

Cultural Views and Interactions with Spirits Across Thedas

The cultures of Thedas have vastly different relationships with spirits, shaped by history, faith, and tradition. While some societies embrace spirits as allies, teachers, or even deities, others regard them with suspicion, fear, or outright hostility. These views often reflect each culture's relationship with magic, the Fade, and the Chantry's teachings.

Broadly speaking:

Northern Thedas tends to demonstrate more openness and integration with spirits.

Central Thedas is likely influenced by both Northern and Southern Thedas, resulting in an amalgamation of cultural beliefs.

Southern Thedas is heavily influenced by Chantry doctrine, enforces stricter separation and suspicion. 

The significant exceptions, such as the Avvar tribes and the Dalish elves, whose unique spiritual beliefs set them apart.

Then, we have the Circle of Magi.

Northern Thedas

Tevinter Imperium

Cultural View: In Tevinter, spirits are seen as tools, allies, and occasionally even advisors. Magic and spirits are deeply integrated into society, and the Chantry's warnings are largely...interpreted differently than southern Thedas in favor of practical application. Tevinter mages will often bind spirits and compel them into service.

Key Spirit Interaction Example: In DAI, Dorian speaks openly about spirits with respect, showcasing Tevinter's pragmatic—if morally gray—approach to spirit magic.

(source: Tevinter, Spirit)

Rivain

Cultural View: The Rivaini people, heavily influenced by their Seers, view spirits as part of the natural and spiritual order. Spirits are seen as protectors, teachers, and sacred presences.

Interactions:

- Seers: Rivaini hedge witches, known as Seers, communicate directly with spirits. Southern Thedas believes that Seers often allowing themselves to be possessed willingly for the benefit of their communities. However, in the codex entry ‘Riviani Seers and Spirits,’ Taash notes that the Seers aren't possessed at all. The Seers simply open themselves up and share their body. - Spirit Amulets: Seers craft "Amulets of the Unbound," magical talismans that protect spirits from blood magic and binding rituals. - Spiritual Integration: Spirits are welcomed into villages and trusted to guide important decisions or provide aid in crises.

Key Spirit Interaction Example:  During Taash's personal quest, a Rivaini Seer allows a spirit to speak through her rather than fully sharing her body. The spirit, having spent considerable time around the Ancient Qunari, respected the Qun's beliefs about possession but still wished to offer its assistance.

(source: Rivain, Spirit)

Antiva

Cultural View: The Fade Codex is theorizing that it appears that in Antiva, spirits are neither overtly worshipped nor deeply feared but are instead accepted as a natural part of the world. The Antivan people generally remain untroubled by the occasional presence of spirits.

While Chantry teachings are widely followed in Antiva, they seem less rigid compared to the stricter interpretations in the South—likely a result of Antiva's origins as a nation founded by pirates and mercenaries, who valued pragmatism and adaptability over dogma.

Key Spirit Interaction Example: The Treviso marketplace, there are spirit cats lounging around, which reflects Antiva's relaxed approach to spirits, to some degree.

(source: Antiva, Spirit)

Central Thedas

Nevarra 

Cultural View: Nevarrans have one of the most unique relationships with spirits in Thedas, deeply intertwined with their cultural views on death and the Fade. Spirits are seen as natural caretakers of the dead and necessary intermediaries between the mortal world and the afterlife.

The Mourn Watch (an elite group of Mortalitasi) avoids using the term "demon." Instead, they refer to what most of Thedas would call a "demon" as a "maligned spirit."

Interactions:

- Mortalitasi Mages: These spiritual leaders interact directly with spirits, often guiding them in rituals surrounding death and the Fade. - Guardians of Tombs: Spirits are sometimes bound to tombs or structures, protecting the dead and ensuring the Fade remains undisturbed. - Rituals of Passing: Spirits play an essential role in guiding souls to their rest.

Key Spirit Interaction Example: In DATV, we see a number of different interactions in the Grand Necropolis regarding spirit interactions. Such as benign spirits being placed in skeletons to help with the upkeep of the building, Curio and Keepsake helping with the return on Manfred, etc.

(source: Nevarra, Spirit)

Southern Thedas

Ferelden and Orlais

Cultural View: Both Ferelden and Orlais follow strict Chantry teachings, viewing spirits with fear and suspicion.

Interactions:

- Spirit interaction is largely confined to the Circle of Magi and heavily monitored by Templars. - Any uncontrolled interaction with spirits is viewed as dangerous, with possession considered an abomination.

Beyond the Chantry's Reach: The Avvar and Dalish Spirit Traditions

Avvar

Cultural View: The Avvar revere spirits as "gods," integrating them into their culture, mythology, and daily lives. Spirits are not merely distant entities but active participants in Avvar society, deeply interwoven with their survival, rituals, and spiritual guidance. Unlike the Chantry's fear of spirits, the Avvar see them as powerful allies deserving respect and proper rituals to maintain harmony.

Neither the Chantry nor its Templars are welcome in the Frostbacks, as Avvar rituals often involve spirits speaking through their casters—practices the Chantry would deem heretical. However, the Avvar are deeply aware of the dangers of spirit interactions and have developed rituals to safeguard against corruption and possession.

Interactions:

Augurs – Spiritual Leaders: 

The Augur, chosen from the hold’s mages, serves as a mediator between spirits and the hold, interpreting omens, guiding rituals, and advising the Thane. They appease spirit gods through ceremonies to protect the hold and drive away malevolent spirits. Augurs allow apprentices to host spirits temporarily, teaching mages patience and control over their magic. If an apprentice fails to release the spirit through ritual or risks corruption, they are quietly executed to prevent harm.

Spirit Bonds:

Spirits actively participate in Avvar life, guiding warriors, aiding mages, and protecting the hold from harm. These bonds are built on respect and reciprocity, with spirits offering blessings, wisdom, and strength in return for proper reverence.

Combat and Spirits:

During ritual combat, spirits are drawn to Avvar warriors, enhancing their reflexes, strength, or endurance. This bond resembles the connection seen in Spirit Warriors, with warriors embracing spirits as sacred allies in their battles.

Ritual Safeguards:

The Avvar use structured rituals to ensure spirits do not linger in mortal hosts or become corrupted. These traditions, developed long before the Circle of Magi, reflect a deep understanding of spirit behavior and the Fade.

Spiritual Duties:

Augurs also prepare the dead for the Lady of the Sky, interpret omens from nature, and preserve the old songs and lore of their people.

Key Spirit Interaction Example: In DAI, Avvar shamans openly invite spirits to aid their people, fostering deep trust and cooperation. Warriors receive spiritual blessings during combat, and mages learn magic through spirit guidance, reflecting the Avvar's balanced and structured approach to spirit interaction.

(Source: Avvar, Spirit)

Dalish Elves

Cultural View: The Dalish hold a deeply cautious view of spirits. While they do not inherently view demons as evil, they see all spirits as wild and dangerous, comparable to untamed animals.

Interactions:

- Dalish mages are expressly forbidden from using spirit magic, as spirits are considered unpredictable and inherently risky. - Felassan's Insight: The Dalish believe demons are not evil but are dangerous if treated carelessly. - Merrill's Perspective: In DA2 Merrill reveals that the Dalish believe "there's no such thing as a good spirit."

Key Spirit Interaction Example: Merrill's attempts to interact with spirits and her controversial use of blood magic highlight the tension between Dalish caution and the pursuit of knowledge.

(source: Dalish, Spirit)

The Circle of Magi: Doctrine, Control, and Spirit Interaction

Spirit Healers

Cultural View: Within the Circle of Magi, Spirit Healers represent a unique and often controversial branch of magical study. These mages form bonds with benevolent spirits—typically those embodying fortitude, compassion, hope, or faith—to channel restorative magic that far exceeds the capabilities of traditional healing spells.

While the Chantry acknowledges the value of Spirit Healers, particularly in times of war or crisis, the Templars remain deeply suspicious of their practices. Spirit Healers walk a precarious line in the eyes of the Circle, seen as both invaluable assets and potential risks, as their reliance on spirits is viewed as dangerously close to inviting possession.

Interactions with Spirits:

Benevolent Bonds: Spirit Healers summon and form connections with spirits of compassion, hope, or fortitude, persuading them to lend their power to heal wounds, restore vitality, and alleviate suffering.

Spirit as an Ally: The spirit does not typically cross the Veil fully but instead channels its power through the mage, acting as an ally rather than a master or servant.

Advanced Healing: While standard healing spells can mend physical injuries, Spirit Healers can cure grievous wounds, cleanse diseases, and even stabilize those on the brink of death with their spirit’s aid.

Role Within the Circle:

Desirable Yet Distrusted: Spirit Healers are highly valued for their unparalleled healing abilities, especially in times of war, plagues, or crises. However, their reliance on spirits causes them to be monitored closely by Templars for any signs of corruption or possession.

Rare Practice: Few mages pursue this path due to the intimate bond required with a spirit and the risks associated with such relationships.

Templar Suspicion: Templars remain wary, fearing that the line between collaboration and possession is dangerously thin for Spirit Healers

(source: Spirit)

[crsssie]

sheer curtains

word count: 2.8k

warnings: hurt/comfort, messy soulmate relationship, angst to fluff

summary: It's taboo to speak about the situation, but Tim finds that a ripped curtain has nothing on him, stepping into your side of the line, desperate to have you in his arms for the rest of his days.

Tim's no stranger to the concept of soulmates.

Fingers pressed to your skin, nose dug into the skin of your neck, Tim has known you for longer than he could imagine. Since the early mornings of waking up in the mansion to the late nights where you'd beg your mom to stay until he fell asleep, you've been a cornerstone in Tim's life for a long time — fingers laced with him under the lunch table in middle school, arms wrapped around his waist during the short time he was in high school, registering the bond together years later than supposed to, you are Tim's soulmate, through and through.

His timer only had four years compared to everyone else in the hospital he had been born in.

And true to the clock, at four and a half years old, you skipped into his life, following behind your mother as she introduced herself as the new maid. Your timer hit zero, made a beep, and promptly disappeared into your skin, only the date left behind. Tim's wrist had done the same thing from the top of the staircase when the two of you met eyes — but neither of you would say anything about it. You would remember, but you wouldn't know. The small glimmer of his blue eyes and a matching one in yours — the two of you knew, even without asking, that the two of you were soulmates.

Neither of you really knew whether it was platonic or romantic, and neither of you really cared.

The sandbox in his backyard mattered more to the two of you.

Even when you two were muddied from the water spilled into the box to build a mound of sand called proudly by the two of you to be a castle, and even when the two of you were scolded by his family for getting messy, neither of you cared. It was fun playing with one another, and that was enough for the two of you. When you're five and the only thing on your mind is figuring out how the two of you would navigate his school, that's enough.

"They could be a personal aide." Tim's mother suggests in the study. "The two of them could work together for good. Your child catches onto things fast."

Your mother is much more apprehensive about the idea, but as you steal the last cookie from Tim on the couch and he doesn't complain, she relents. If you did not want it, you could leave whenever. It was as simple as that. The two of you could split up whenever. Your parents didn't know you were soulmates — you two did. It hurt when you spent too long without each other. Neither of you knew why, but you knew to stick close.

In the sticky floors of kindergarten and the wooden blocks of preschool, you had been sent to attend the same school as Tim despite the lower class status. He had kept you close, fingers interlaced with yours, sharing his plate of snacks with you. It was hard to figure out if the two of you had been just friends or if it was a puppy crush. But it didn't matter to anyone — neither did it matter to you. You were happy to be around him.

Tim didn't find it in himself to leave you alone, even when he made new friends and met new people.

At eight years old, the two of you found out you were soulmates during science class.

"When your timer strikes zero upon meeting someone, they are your soulmate." Your teacher had smiled at you all.

You tugged on Tim's sleeve under the table, blinking slowly at him, clicking on the matching date on your wrists. Tim nodded back at you, toothy grin on his face, lips quirked up. He knew. But neither of you knew if it was platonic or romantic, and honestly, it still didn't matter to the two of you. It doesn't matter to the two of you. It felt platonic to the two of you, so there was no need to register it with city hall. It wasn't required for minors.

Even in middle school, your fingers laced with his under the table, cheek pressed to his shoulder, heart racing in your chest, neither of you cared to check whether or not you were romantic soulmates. Even when he ran his thumb over the back of your hand, even when he rested his face in the crook of your neck, even when he stared at your lips too hard while sending you to your room, the two of you had never assumed to be romantic soulmates. Even at middle school graduation, when Tim had his arms around you and cheek pressed to yours, it was never a thought.

There was never a label for your relationship — there was never a need.

Even as Tim blinks at you owlishly under the dim lighting in his Robin suit, letting you peel the mask off his face in high school, he doesn't care what kind of a soulmate the two of you are. Even when you whisper his name in the darkness of his old room, eyes wide, struck with fear, neither of you speaks about it. It's taboo — talking about something that the two of you had known for so long. It didn't matter to the two of you, even when Tim was crashed in your room, bandaged wounds and quiet cuddling, even when you're forced to leave his house, watching as he's legally adopted by Bruce Wayne, left behind in a way. It's taboo to talk about the situation.

You continue in high school for the few years that Tim goes missing in your life, the burning of the date on your skin, a reminder that your soulmate had decided to leave you after revealing one of the biggest secrets in his life. He texts you occasionally, sending you updates on where he was living, but other than that, you see him less and less. The friend group that Tim had for a short while in high school also starts breaking apart, and you find yourself stranded in a sea of students at the end of the semester. You don't know if you want to continue. Graduating early sounds like something on the table for you. You discuss about it. Tim's been changing around schools and never making time for you. It might've been a sign for you to start moving on your own, even if the two of you were soulmates.

But Tim catches you before you can leave, as he does, desperate to keep you.

You sit outside the hall during Prom, undoing your blazer, letting the cold air run on your skin, clicking on your phone while seated on the sidewalk. You've left already, but you aren't ready to drive home yet. You grimace at the thought. Your mother's picked up working for someone else, finally, yet you were left behind in the dust, an empty highway at night, wondering what you were without Tim. You had known him for as long as you could remember. It. It felt wrong to move on on your own even though he had already moved on.

"Alone?" Red Robin swings down next to you, weight resting on the streetlamp as he stares down at you.

"Oh, look who finally showed up." You mumble bitterly. "Got bored in Bludhaven?"

"You know I didn't—"

Tim stops mid-sentence when he notices the way you look at him.

Alone. You looked alone. Lonely. It looked like him when he was staring in the mirror in Bludhaven. You looked miserable, like an abandoned child in the street, like the look on Dick's face when he lost his parents at the circus. You looked like him when he had attended his parents' funeral. He grimaces as he tries to reach for you, only for you to turn away, standing up, blazer in your arm, not turning around for him.

It's taboo to talk about the situation, but you rip the curtain first.

Tim's shoulders sink when you shake.

"Tell me to go." You whisper. "Tell me to leave. You have your life, and clearly we're just platonic soulmates. The news loves showing me about how my soulmate is out with someone that has someone else, because clearly, romantic soulmates would have their hearts crushed at the sight."

The tears in your eyes run hot against your cheeks.

"Don't." Tim whispers, heart sinking in his chest at the idea of you leaving. "Don't go."

"Yet." You turn around to face him, eyes hard, chest tight, cough breaking out of your chest. Tim reaches to help, only for you to hold a hand up to him. "You have gone without me. You don't care about me, Master Drake."

It hurts. Something seems to shatter in Tim's body as you call him that. You never called him that. It was something your mother reserved for his family and him back when he had been upper class. It was something that not even Alfred called him. He runs his hand through his hair, desperate to fix this. How does he even fix it? He doesn't—

"We..." You seem to hesitate. "We can get the dates covered up. I'm sure your adoptive father has enough money for the surgery, so it's clearly—"

"No!" Tim lunges at you this time, grabbing you by the arms, heart racing in his ears, eyes watery. "We. We can't. I won't. I won't let us. I..." Tim's head hangs, his own breath caught in his throat, something threatening to rip out his voice. "I can't. I.. I can't lose you too." He chokes out. "I've lost too many. Just." He falls to his knees, kevlar clanging against the ground, grabbing your hands now, pressing your fingers to his forehead, begging you to stay.

No matter how much you had wanted to leave at first, none of it mattered. You wouldn't have left if Tim hadn't said anything. You would have had a hard time leaving if he had told you to leave anyway.

But he's not yours.

It hangs in the air when Tim offers to drive you home, and it hangs in the air when he sends you back to the apartment, lips pressed to yours in an attempt to make you stay, his own heart in a predicament. He knows what he feels. He just refuses to admit it. He couldn't admit it. You might've ripped the curtain, but you did not step through. The two of you could only see each other now. Staring dead into each other's eyes, wanting more but never making a move. Neither of you could win. There was no winning in a game with no result. There wouldn't be a winner or loser. There would simply be an outcome.

Tim never returns to high school, and you settle with graduating early, applying around to colleges. You still want to leave. Tim was not yours. Tim wouldn't be yours. He couldn't be yours. Even as the two of you are seventeen and the world seems to fall back into place, he isn't yours. You go to the town hall to check your soulmate mark, wondering if they would have an answer for you.

They tell you you need to bring in Tim, so you decide that running away was going to be a recurring theme in your bond.

At sixteen and a half, you leave Gotham for Ivy Town U. You don't tell anyone other than your mom, a scholarship in tow from your writing, money from years of your mother saving up her salary for you. You leave Gotham like a ghost, disappearing out of Tim's life one day, number changed and disappeared like the wind. He tries finding you from the street cameras — no avail. You disappear from him, his own soulmate mark burnt into his skin, some nights worse than others.

Some nights, he's stuck in his bed, gasping, curling into a ball, praying that the stinging pain on his wrist would go away. It hurt worse than all the times when he had left you alone in Gotham. It hurt more than when he had his first girlfriend. But that was what it was. Your soulmate mark was far from platonic. Tim knew it. He had an inkling of a suspicion that you did too, but he couldn't prove anything. Not when you had disappeared on him. He couldn't text you even if he tried. Your number was changed too.

It bothers him to no end, deciding the last relationship he would ever have would be with you, leaving his boyfriend for you.

There was no one in the world that Tim Drake couldn't find — but it seemed that you were dead set on proving him wrong.

You graduate, inviting your mother to your graduation, smile on your face, lips pulled up gently. She coos at you, a support in your life, never questioning why you did specific things and not others. But it didn't matter that much to you. It never mattered to you. You've avoided having people ask you who your soulmate was at the cost of covering it up, and you had changed your appearance — desperate to gain control of your life again after being Tim's for so long.

You graduate early, and for a second, you think to turn down the job offering from Wayne Enterprises.

"Go." Your mother urges you, hand on your bicep, squeezing affectionately. "You know you want to."

And you do.

You miss Tim. You miss holding his hand under the table in middle school, wrapping him up in early high school when he was still Robin, the feeling of his hand in yours in the early days of kindergarten and preschool. You miss the taste of Tim's lips from the only time he had ever crossed the line to kiss you, and you miss the feeling of your wrist at peace. Both of you had been avoiding the conversation for as long as possible.

At twenty years old in the airport in Gotham, you stare at the man sent to pick you up.

At twenty years old, Tim runs into your arms at the airport of Gotham, sobbing into your neck, all thoughts about his public image gone with the wind. He clings onto you like his life depends on it, gasping for air, you finally in his arms. He sobs quietly, his wrist no longer burning, like he had to absorb you into his body so that his heart would calm, racing in his chest as he feels you wrap your arms around him too, giving him a gentle squeeze.

It's taboo to speak about the situation, but Tim finds that a ripped curtain has nothing on him, stepping into your side of the line, desperate to have you in his arms for the rest of his days.

If it would cost his life, then so be it.

He moves his head to your chest next, pressing his ear to your heart, listening to the way your heart beat, making up for all the nights he had stayed in bed knowing you had been out doing the same thing as he. He listens to your heartbeat to make up for all the times he had cheated you, all the nights where he had crashed without explanation, your endless patience for him bleeding through your skin onto your hand, his blood staining your cells. He listens to your heartbeat to remind him of every single moment in his childhood, the two of you glued to each other, enamored with each other as much as children could be. He listens to your heart to learn what you had gone through because of him.

You let him listen, fingers tangled in his hair, lips pressed into a tight smile. You aren't uncomfortable. Despite the assumption that you would be, you aren't. You wonder what kind of reflection ended up with Tim so honest with himself, but you aren't complaining.

You two are romantic soulmates. It showed in the way Tim had clung to you as a child, it showed in the way that you had wrapped him up in your room in the dead of night, it showed in the way you both had a burning in your wrist when you had picked people that were not each other. It was not taboo to talk about the situation when both of you knew what you were, it wasn't taboo for Tim to press his lips to yours in the airport, the rest of the world lost behind him—

because the world meant nothing when it came to you.

It meant nothing when he could finally hold you in his arms, longing long gone on your side of the curtain, the sun warm on his skin, your forehead pressed on his.

It meant nothing to him if it meant he couldn't have you.

Your side of the curtain is much cozier anyway.

[bitchlessdino]

Put it in Writing (m) teaser

posting tomorrow 6pm cst

In collaboration with @camandemstudios Pairing: college student!seungkwan x Fem!TA!reader Genre: humor, smut Word count: 7.9k tags: college au, TA x student dynamic, push-and-pull, mentions of TXT's soobin, mentions of Ryan Gosling, a lot of fucking lying, explicit content, unprotected sex, hair pulling, cream pies, oral Summary: You keep things professional--as you should--even if one of your students is someone you hooked up with one night before the college semester started. Meanwhile, Boo Seungkwan is anything but honest--he's a writer after all--but if he is honest about one thing, it's about wanting to write a new story with you. interact if you want to be tagged.

 “Now tell me your work. What is so amazing that you do?”

“I’m—“ a teacher’s aid in massive debt on their way to graduating with potentially a useless degree neither of their parents is proud of because, although you love it,  you’re too proud to say otherwise, “—a indie movie producer with one of the films up for a reward. Super lowkey right now, but…we got Gosling.” You shrug, impressed with your own lies. “So, things are looking up.”

“That’s quite impressive.” he hums, intrigued and interested in hearing about more. “Is he as nice in real life as he is in interviews?”

“Ryan’s got a screw or two loose, but pretty okay guy. At least not into Scientology or anything.”

“Interesting,” He gaze dips towards you, being drawn to you immensely, if not locking eyes with you, scanning over your features, particularly your lips that wished to be claimed. “You call all big-name celebrities by their first name?”

You shrug, the lying coming more and more naturally than anticipated. “Only the ones I’m close with.”

His palm hugs the curve of your cheek, thumb softly brushing against your bottom lip. “I wonder what getting close to you entails.”

“Are you planning on finding out?”

You give each other a long look, one that keeps waiting and ushering the other until your lips decidedly crash into his. His lips part, making way for your presence, the heat of the kiss flushing your skin and pleased shivers running throughout your entire body. Your breath hitches when you feel his teeth pulling your flesh and a soft sigh escapes his lips before his hand creeps behind your head and muffles a moan that neither were sure from who.

You lift your body from the couch, chasing his pace, and pull him closer, kissing him deeper with all your might. You crawl over his lap, straddling his hips, hands in his hair, breath on his skin. Your chest tightens as he presses you closer by the small of your back, to which you gasp as you part from his lips.

He finds your gaze, his round and glistening eyes meeting yours in soft urgency. “You okay? Something wrong?”

You shake your head, palm clasped against your burning face. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

He lets out an amused scoff. “Keep up, Miss producer.”

[fallen5t4r]

How I Perceive Remus Lupin + Headcanons

Appearance

ೃ࿔₊• | Crazy amount of freckles that become much more visible after every summer

ೃ࿔₊• | Has a downturned smile <3

ೃ࿔₊• | Showed up one year taller than most of the students and some teachers and when everybody thought he’d peaked in height he just showed up after the next holidays taller than when he left

ೃ࿔₊• | Used to use half a tub of hair gel daily to try and style his hair but he eventually stopped bothering and now it just falls into place

ೃ࿔₊• | Actually has such shit eye sight but refuses to wear glasses so he’ll either wear contacts or will just thug it out without anything

ೃ࿔₊• | Has the prettiest eyelashes and the prettiest eyes ever

Personality

ೃ࿔₊• | Shy but also not really he just doesn’t want to be annoying, once you make it insanely clear that you don’t find him annoying he will not stop talking

ೃ࿔₊• | Loves to argue, he’s doesn’t even do it to be pissy he mainly does it to get a better understanding of other perspectives, he thinks that defending an opinion will get the best reasoning and explanation compared to just regular talking. (he also likes leaving an arguenent under the guise of being the bigger person and feeling like he won)

ೃ࿔₊• | He’s super competitive he doesn’t even need to be actively participating in anything or tell anyone who or what he’s rooting for just knowing that he won is enough for him

ೃ࿔₊• | The above is also why he chooses to not engage in sports, playing or watching (unless it’s james or sirius or marlene playing) because he gets too passionate about winning and gets crushed if he loses. that’s why he acts so indifferent whenever hes asked about sports

ೃ࿔₊• | Insanely forgetful just because his brain is in a million places at once, kinda guy to look you dead in the eyes while you’re talking yet miss every word you said (he feels really bad abt it), surprisingly though, he rarely ever forgets school work

Music Taste

70s

ೃ࿔₊• | The doors - if you asked him to pick a favourite song or album he simply would not be able to

ೃ࿔₊• | Cream - He isn’t usually a fan of the psychedelic rock genre but the album Disresli Gears is one of his favourites

ೃ࿔₊• | Fleetwood Mac - again he can’t pick a favourite album but one of his favourite songs is Dust

Modern

ೃ࿔₊• | Jeff Buckley - loves the entire grace album (why does lost highway relate to him sm in canon.. “i was just a lad nearly 22 neither good nor bad just a kid like you and now im lost too late to pray. holy shit literally him after the 31st of October 1981)

ೃ࿔₊• | Florence + the machine - loves the lungs album his favourite song is i’m not calling you a liar

ೃ࿔₊• | Catfish and the bottleman - The balcony is his favourite album, his favourite songs are coincide, homesick, and hourglass

Style

70s

ೃ࿔₊• | Had one pair of jeans which he rarely wore as he preferred trousers

ೃ࿔₊• | Platform loafers HATE to see him coming - he usually hates things that make him seem taller but these are his exception

ೃ࿔₊• | Always had a camera around his neck and a shit ton of spare film on him at all times

ೃ࿔₊• | Doesn’t have a strict aesthetic, wears whatever is comfiest which is usually clothes he’s had for years that are slightly worn down

Modern

ೃ࿔₊• | You will not catch him without a messenger bag he’s the type of guy to carry half of his possessions in his bag, water he’s got it, first aid kit he’s got it, snacks he’s got it, spare underwear he’s got it, want a book to read he’s got it

ೃ࿔₊• | eclectic grandpa minus the eclectic, he could genuinely pass as somebodies grandfather

ೃ࿔₊• | Hates fast fashion, he gets so emotionally attached to each item of clothing he owns even if it’s literally disintegrating, falling apart, splitting at the seams, he will not get rid of it, you’d have to pry it from his cold dead body

Relationships

Romantic

ೃ࿔₊• | Sirius - a combination of eros and pragma type of love, this love had the initial intense passion which can often be described as ‘love at first sight’ which was then developed into something deeper over time as the individuals grow together and further develop a long lasting love

Platonic

ೃ࿔₊• | Lily - The philia type of love born between two friends who share the same values and respects for each other, it is a love similar to that of siblings in strength and duration.

More Headcanons

ೃ࿔₊• | He’s Welsh and was born and raised in Wales

ೃ࿔₊• | lowkey the nosiest people ever, bc the marauders map are you serious using it for pranks was just a mask for the real reason that Remus was invested in who was where with who and figuring out why

ೃ࿔₊• | Is a sleepy drunk

ೃ࿔₊• | Grew up listening to a bunch of Hopes favourite groups like elton john, cat stevens and simon and garfunkel so he listens to a bit of everything

ೃ࿔₊• | he always carries at least 3 hair ties on his wrist in case any of his friends need one

ೃ࿔₊• | loves music theory and is very musically talented, he also has perfect pitch - def had a music lesson where the teacher just spent the whole time testing his perfect pitch while everyone just sat there

ೃ࿔₊• | Does the wordle everyday

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Howdy! May i request prompts 52 or 54 with dom Larissa Weems x gn Student Reader? maybe sugar mommy vibes aswell 👀

Heyyy anon! So… I went with a TeachersAid!Reader instead… But I’ll make it up to you by using both prompts and by adding those sugar mommy vibes… 😏 Also I don’t know why but I just associate AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” with car sex… 😆🤭

Tipsy Nights ~Principal Larissa Weems xFem TeachersAid!Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#52. “Fuck… Mommy! … Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… slipped out…?”

#54. “You can call me Mommy if you want too…”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, alcohol consumption, age gap (all legal), kissing, fingering, eating out, car sex, thigh riding, mommy kink, praise kink, sugar mommy, implied degrading kink, etc.

Enjoy (;

You hadn’t expected this when you had applied to Nevermore as a Teachers Aid. You joined the school with the hope of one day becoming a teacher there as well. Larissa had immediately taken note of you when she had hired you, and throughout the year, she had noticed your isolated nature. Her inviting you to a friendly dinner had been spur of the moment, but she was ever so grateful that she had.

This was the fourth time that Principal Weems— or as she insisted you call her, Larissa— had invited you to dinner. It wasn’t anything relationship-like, Ms. Weems had suggested it at first, because she wanted to talk and make sure you were doing well. But now after three dinners and a fourth invite, you were starting to think that Larissa was simply lonely and that she wanted company.

And that was okay with you. You were open to going to dinner once a week and chatting with the blonde principal. It felt nice to be honest. It made both you and Larissa feel less alone. So you two developed this nice system; she’d take you to dinner and you two would enjoy the pleasure of another’s company.

~~~

“Can I ask you something the tiniest bit awkward…?” You spoke, fiddling with the wine glass in your hand as you looked up and across the dining table to the blonde.

The two of you had already eaten and were now slowly drinking the night away.

“Anything, Darling…” Larissa hummed, taking a sip of her own wine.

“Aren’t you kind of like my sugar mommy…?” You pondered aloud, “Like you buy me dinners and gifts, and in return, I give you company…”

At your words, Larissa had to stop herself from chocking on her wine.

“I… Yes, if you want to think about it in that way… I suppose so…” she chuckled.

~~~

You both left the restaurant a little bit more than tipsy. Larissa had insisted she drive as her alcohol tolerance was a lot better than yours. You both got into her car and headed back to Nevermore. The drive was taken in silence, mainly cause you couldn’t stop staring at Larissa’s lips.

“You’re staring…” the blonde chuckled.

“Right, sorry…” you muttered, looking away and your cheeks flushing red.

You finally arrived back at the school, Larissa pulling into the Nevermore parking lot. But as she put the car in park and turned the ignition off, neither of you went to get out of the vehicle. You both just stared forward as the tension in the car built.

Then at one point, you looked over to the blonde, only to find she was looking back at you. You both seemed to be inching closer to each other. Your gaze flickered from hers to her lips and back up to her eyes. And before either of you could say anything, your lips were connected with hers in a breathless, heated kiss.

You were just beginning to taste the notes of wine in her breath, but as soon as the kiss had happened, it was over. Larissa was quick to pull away, looking rather frantic.

“I… did I do something…?” You asked, concerned.

“Darling, we… we shouldn’t be doing this…” Larissa muttered.

“Oh… Because I’m your subordinate…?”

“I— No… We’ll sort of…” Larissa muttered, biting her lip, “I just…”

She finally looked at you. Her eyes were filled with a myriad of emotions.

“I don’t want to ruin a good thing…” she whispered.

You gulped and nodded.

“I… I understand…” you sighed, not bearing to look up at Larissa not wanting her to see the sadness in your eyes.

At this, the blonde snaked her hand into yours on the car console, attempting to comfort you. But then a though struck you.

“But—But what if it’s part of our arrangement?” You spoke with hope in your tone, meeting the blondes gaze again.

“I’m sorry…?”

“What if in return for dinners and gifts, I give you my time along with other things…” you whispered.

Now it was Larissa’s turn to flutter her eyes down to your lips.

“Yes…” She breathlessly whispered, crashing her lips back into yours.

Larissa immediately picked you up and pulled you into straddling her lap. You moaned into her lips as your core ground lightly against the side of the blonde’s thigh. Larissa chuckled lightly at your sensitivity, moving you to straddle her one thigh instead.

“I would say let’s continue this inside, but I don’t think either of us can wait… Can we…?” Larissa breathily groaned.

In saying that, the blonde placed her hands on your hips and tensed her thigh, making you jerk you hips forward in pleasure.

“OhHhH Fuck…!!” You moaned out, your clothed clit grinding deliciously against Larissa’s thigh.

“That’s it, Darling… Grind down on my thigh…” Larissa breathlessly purred, her hands on your hips aiding your grindings.

Another needy moan left your lips. And another. And many more after that. Larissa herself was getting insanely aroused at how delicious you looked, rutting against her thigh. At one point, your knickers rubbed against your clit in just the right way, making your eyes roll backs bd your hips jerk forward.

“Fuck… Mommy!” You cried out, your eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

But your eyes opened wide as you stopped all administrations, when you realized what you had said. Larissa was simply starring at you, mouth agape.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… slipped out—?” You stuttered.

“Shut up.” Larissa growled, pulling you by your neck and smashing her lips onto yours once more.

You whimpered desperately into the kiss. Larissa pulled back slightly, her lustful gaze meeting yours.

“I want to taste you…” Larissa lustfully growled.

Your breath hitched and you nodded vigorously.

“Um… Back seats…?” You needily suggested, your hips squirming in anticipation.

Larissa nodded eagerly. Within minutes, the blonde had you splayed out across the back seats of her car as she removed your knickers and finally delved her tongue into your throbbing heat.

You couldn’t contain your moans and whimpers as Larissa skillfully ate you out. You always had a feeling that tongue of hers was talented. And fuck did she prove you right… The woman had you cumming within mere minutes. And then again. With only her tongue. And the screams she pulled out of you… Oh they were downright sinful…

Christ, were you in love with this woman…

After your second orgasm hit you like a brick wall, Larissa came back up to your face with a smirk and your cum all over her face. Her lips were on yours once more.

“Let me return the favor…?” You panted into her red, plump lips.

Larissa nodded eagerly, pulling you up into a sitting position with her, and then pulling you down in the other direction so that you were now on top of her. You nodded, understanding Larissa’s thought, and you scurried down her body, rolling up her dress, and quickly stripping away her knickers.

You licked your lips and were quick to attach your hot mouth to the blonde’s clit. Larissa’s hand snaked itself in your hair, only pushing you deeper into her cunt. You then inserted two of your fingers into her heat. Larissa let out a guttural moan as you began curling your fingers inside her. Her thighs squeezed your head so deliciously tight, you thought you’d see stars.

You worked the blonde up and over her climax, happily drinking all of her juices as she came all over you fingers. You helped Larissa down from her high and then pulled your fingers out of her, coming back up to her gaze.

“Suck on them for me, Darling…” Larissa lustfully husked, indicating to your fingers, “And you can call me Mommy if you want too…”

Your breath hitched at her words, and you did as you were told, stuffing your fingers in your mouth and sucking her cum clean off.

“Yes mommy…” you whispered.

“Good girl…” Larissa praised, connecting your lips back to hers.

~~~

[lolita-lollipop]

could you do a platonic bakudeku taking care of/pampering depressed reader?

SOFT YANDERE AIZAWA X FEM READER

I apologize I read this ask at 4 am with no sleep and saw Aizawa, so I wrote Aizawa. If you want, put in another request and I’ll write the original

———————————————————————

Your health overall had become a stressor in Aizawas life, ever since he had gotten to know you better as a human being, it wasn't that you tried to hurt yourself, but it just seemed to happen. That worried him more often than he would like to admit.

You had come to U.A. as a teacher's aid, or a teacher in training, and were assigned to his classroom. At first, you generally kept your head down, your eyes glued to the floor, not intentionally, but you were a little uncomfortable working with somebody as world-renowned as he was. being somebody who had just graduated high school a year ago, it was strange to be in the same loop as somebody like him.

Aizawa had known that you struggled with your health constantly, both mental and physical. Even upon the first meeting, he saw glimmers of anxiety in your eyes, the picking at your skin, the biting of your nails. All things he'd seen in teens before.

He even experienced it before in his younger years, when he was in high school at UA he went through a lot and had to deal with it all by himself, too fearful of being judged to reach out for help, even from his teachers. It made him feel so connected with you, except he wouldnt give you the option of independence. Even if you hadn't openly stated that you were struggling, he always tried to make your life easier for you, just the little things that always counted.

but, while you were shy, he immediately knew the two of you would be close, you were just so young, so much younger than he was, and he felt such a pull to care for you like he would his students. You were so selfless, so optimistic. Showing up to work with little treats or a coffee for him almost every day (even with your less-than-low teachers-aid salary), being so soft-spoken when giving criticism. He would always see you with a smile on your face, and you were so willing to help anybody at any time. That worried him even more.

It hadn't taken long for you to wriggle yourself into his heart, you worked too well with his student and always were trying to improve. When the two of you became close, he started looking into your background more. Your medical records, your records with the hero association, it was for your good, partially for his curiosity. He didn't want to invade your privacy, but the way you acted was strange to him, you were social and closed off at the same time, and it confused him.

Even so, Aizawa looked forward to your daily interactions throughout the year. The way you made him lunch every day, the way you always looked to him when you had a problem, the way you hovered close to him at teacher's events and meetings. He became used to your presence, even had come to like it.

Imagine his surprise when he saw the countless therapist appointments, medications, and rehabilitation visits written across your medical records. It shocked him honestly, but as he thought about it more it made more sense, tis is why you were the way you were, and he still loved it. That's why he thought you were so likable, it just made him want to protect you more.

Your relationship with him was a little strange, at least to most others. What kind of pro hero just becomes best friends with a quirkless teacher aide like you? He did everything with you, lunch, teaching, and sometimes even on weekends the two of you would hang out. You and Aizawa became very very close very very fast, of course, neither of you minded.

He ended up playing somewhat of a fatherly role to you, helping you when you were hurt, paying for meals when the two of you went out, and caring for you. Eventually, you trusted him enough to reveal the issues you dealt with on the daily.

Your vulnerability with him was cute honestly, the way you were so willing to share your deepest emotions and fears with him.

You told him everything that’s happened, everything that’s caused you to be like this. And he listened, he listened well and hard, and made you feel accepted and loved. Your relationship escalated from there. He was the first person you would call when you needed help, the first person to cry to, to laugh with. eventually, you realized that you loved him. NOT LIKE THAT. But you loved him.

As a child your parents paid no attention to you, from the day you were born they wrote you off as a nuisance, leaving you to fend for yourself from the moment you were able to speak. It made you grow up too fast, having somebody like him was nice for a change.

So when your teacher's aid year ended, and you had to go back to school, you were devastated. That was the first time you had ever cried to Aizawa, and it showed you just how kind he could be. From then on you knew that you would last with him, teacher's aid or not. And so you moved back to your old apartment near your little teaching school, it had taken every ounce of self-control for him to not move with you.

As months passed by he visited often, but slowly, he started to see you change. It was slight at first, just having less energy when you spoke with him, but slowly it ascended into so much more. Your life was all of a sudden so filled with stress, school overloaded your life, and it taxed your health, mental and physical. He watched as your nails slowly became more gnawed down, your skin getting more and more picked at, your eye bags becoming darker and darker. His worry grew with every day that you failed to call him.

Sometimes it would get bad enough that he would force you to accept his help, whether it be money or food or clothing, or even just a place to stay, he would make you accept it, even if you didn't want to. Aizawa just couldn't fathom why you wanted to be so independent, he suggested you move in with him so he could watch over you, but you had denied it quickly, explaining how you "needed to do this on your own".

He found himself feeling responsible for you. You didn't know how to take care of yourself, not in his eyes, it was only natural, you hadn’t grown up with much guidance towards self-care (as you had told him in a moment of vulnerability). So he would help you. It became somewhat of a routine for him to check on your well-being, sending a text at noon every single day just to make sure you're okay. It comforted both of you.

But, as time passed, school and work filled both of your schedules to the brim, and you never had time to travel across town to each other. So you slowly drifted; it started as days without talking to each other, but days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. At some point, he realized that he hadn't even checked in on you for 5 months.

After coming to that realization his worry washed over him once again, cold flowed from his head to his feet. You weren't ready to be alone, oh god what had he done?

He hadn't seen you in months, however, it felt like years, knowing that, he couldn't even imagine how you were feeling. The last time he had seen you, you had been doing well, eating and sleeping healthily, you seemed alright, so he felt okay in leaving you for a long period of time.

He should've kept a closer watch on you when he was away, he should've monitored the bank account he had set up for you, and he should've checked the cameras outside your apartment more. It used to be comforting for him to take a break from his life and check in on you, when did he start forgetting? Was he that bad of a best friend? He needed to see you. now.

And so, after 6 months shouts Aizawa was standing at the entrance to your apartment complex. Staring at the dirt growing thick on the exterior, the windows that had grown foggy and unclear with age.

Walking up the front steps, he observed just how quiet it was, the atmosphere was almost unsettling with how abnormally silent it was., you had refused to let him buy you a nice apartment near the urban areas of the city, so you lived near the rural edge in the older areas. The entire district was old and only growing older, crime rates were spiking, and buildings were slowly breaking down. This particular building was aging with every day. Paint chipping, door handles rusting, the elevator no longer was even in service.

He stared up the long flights of stairs, each step sad and grey and growing rust at the edges, even though they weren't metal. Imagining you have to make the climb to the seventh floor every day, Aizawa sighed. He honestly doesn’t know why you would choose to do this to yourself.

As he began to ascend the steps, he realized just how dingy the place was, the steps were concrete yet they were still able to squeak with every time he put a foot forward. There was a faint smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol in the air, combined with body odor and the smell of mildew, this place was just sad and lonely. Even the lights were going out, flickering and glowing a dirty yellow. The last time he was here the building wasn't in this bad of a condition.

By the time he was able to make it up to your apartment, his pity had grown severely. Why were you living like this? Why would he let you live like this? He felt at fault, one of the top heroes and he couldn't even manage to put his best friend in a nice apartment, even if they didn't want to be there. He wouldnt let you live here anymore, not when it was this bad. With that, he left three firm knocks on the door, the paint was chipping down, revealing old rotting wood.

The sound rang out through the hallway, cutting through the heavy air. When you didn't answer he knocked again, this time louder, and the sound reverberated across the large piece of wood again. He knew your doorbell didn't work, last time the two of you talked you told him allllllllllll about how you'd been trying to get maintenance to fix it, they were refusing. How long ago was that? It should've been fixed by now, he knew it probably wasn't though.

After the second knock, he pulled the spare key from above the doorframe, such an obvious place to hide a key, it was a wonder your home hadn't been broken into yet, even though he told you to move it elsewhere you hadn't. You were stubborn like that sometimes, he couldn't help that he loved it. The door unlocked fairly quickly, after a few harsh shoves to un-jam it, something you also had mentioned last time he talked to you. Something that was still not fixed.

he pushed the door open slowly, and a loud creak rang out. the rough feeling of the doorknob against his fingers was sandy and divoted. The silence in the room was louder than anything else. looking back at the door he saw almost four new locks that weren't there last time he was there.

“Y/n? I figured I should stop by, I was in town.” He yelled through the apartment door, loud enough to inform you of his presence but not loud enough to startle you, he was met with nothing more than the clanking of your air conditioning.

The stench hit him before anything else did, smelling like somebody died and then was resurrected only to die again in here, the scent was strong enough to make him have a double take. Usually, you were very clean, obsessing over the cleanliness of your apartment, even if it was old and rotting. It was strange enough that you hadn't answered the door when he knocked, but now not answering his call? Something was wrong.

“Y/n? Are you here?” he continued, stepping further into the small room with a grimace, it was a mess, not dirty, but cluttered everywhere, like you had stopped caring where things go. This was already a bad sign, last time your apartment looked like you weren't doing very well. Aizawa knew that he should've checked in on you sooner, he was trying to let you have a little space to feel independent, but he shouldn't have.

Hurriedly he rushed to your bedroom to check if you were even here, and what he saw horrified him. Upon opening your door he was hit again with the same smell, this time just a thousand times more concentrated. The sight of your room was just awful, he'd seen some bad things, but it's different when it's you. Clothing was strewn everywhere in large piles, packets of ramen and other instant foods lay discarded beside the bed, and some of the picture frames that were hung on the walls had fallen to the floor. Your room wasn't very large in the first place, so the trash and clothing crowded the space, making the air even denser.

It took him a few moments to realize that you were here, just buried under months of trash. You were hidden under a crevice in your bed, sleeping so heavily it worried him. Immediately he moved to get you out, shoving all the stuff off of you and looping his arm under your waist to hoist you up, you were lighter, frailer. Your breathing was shallow, almost like you were struggling to inhale and exhale a sufficient amount. He cupped your head on his shoulder and hurried out of your bedroom.

He frowned at your state, you hadn't been eating well, even though he made sure you set reminders for yourself every day. Your clothing looked baggy and dirty, your eyes sunken in and glued shut, and your hair. Oh god your hair, he could tell it hadn't been brushed in quite some time, you had it tied back but he could still see the knots starting at your scalp. How had it gotten this bad? More importantly, why hadn't you called him? He was supposed to be there for you, but clearly, he wasn't.

“Y/n, Y/n cmon I need you to wake up sweetheart, please. Open those eyes for me, I know you can do it.” he practically begged, cupping your head with his hand and holding you up to get a better look at you. He shook you gently and watched as you stirred. Groaning in your sleep, your eyes groggily fluttered open, you brought your hand up to rub the sleep haze out of your vision, only to realize you were in the grasp of somebody else. You let out a startled squeak and sent your hands flying out in front of you to push the person off, then you were reminded how exhausted your body was, as even that small motion brought pain bursting through your fingertips.

“Whoah- whoah it's okay- y/n it's me, it's me- I’m not going to hurt you- you're okay-” he stammered out soothing words, and one of his hands immediately went out to grasp your own, holding them still. He wasn't worried about you hurting him, you probably couldn't even if you wanted to, he was worried about you hurting yourself. Upon realizing that it was your best friend, and not an intruder aiming to do horrible things, you relaxed in his arms, finding comfort in physical touch for the first time in months. God you missed this, more than anything.

“Why didn't you tell me you were coming around? I would've cleaned up,” you spoke, your voice hoarse and raspy, almost like you hadn't been using it that often. You met his gaze, and he stared back with this sympathetic look you had grown to know so well, immediately your eyes found the floor, embarrassed. You knew that it meant he was going to lecture you about something, and you could predict the words that would come out of his mouth before he even spoke.

“I figured it would be alright if I came in like I usually did… Y/n we need to talk- are you okay? This-this is bad, worse than last time- I told you to call me if you were feeling like this anymore, I know how you get.” he lectured with that mother hen tone he always had with you, aizawa was always so caring, so soft. Not to anybody other than you, but that's how you knew him. With his words, you found your lip wobbling, and little tears pooling in your eyes. You didn't know how to tell him anything when he was making that face at you, the pity stare, so you buried your head further into his shoulder and spoke.

“I just- I thought you would get mad at me- I was doing so good last time and I just went back and made it all I jus-” You stammered out, tears now streaming down your cheeks and onto his shirt, around halfway through your voice broke into a sob. You knew that he would have to come some time or another but you hadn't expected your emotions to just flow out entirely like this. Little sobs left your mouth to the point that you couldn't keep speaking, he rubbed circles into your lower back, bouncing up and down a little to calm you, or at least try.

“I would never- NEVER. Baby you can't live like this, I can't let you live like this.” He pulled your head from the nook in his shoulder, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I know. I just- I just didn't know how to fix it- and I didn't want to make you upset so I just let it- Don't be mad- please” You couldn't even control what you were saying anymore, your words just flew out o your mouth faster than you could think of them.

“It's okay- I’m here now. You won't have to worry anymore okay? I'll make it better, I'll help you get through this. You're alright.” He confirmed, all he wanted to do right now was make you feel okay, as you didn't. He wouldnt leave you alone again, he wouldnt dare. You've never scared him like this, it's never been this bad. Hell take of you, he has to now.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, you crying into his shoulder, and him rubbing your back and holding you close. After a minute or two he set you on the ground, keeping a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the door. You followed blindly, too caught up in your crying to care about where your feet were taking you. You leaned into him naturally, clutching him close.

The trek down the hallway was slow and painstakingly quiet, by the time you reached the stairs he had you in his arms again. You were barefoot, and the last thing he wanted was for you to nick your foot on anything in the carpet, especially when you were so fragile, so frail. He wouldnt let anything hurt you now, not even the carpet.

You were his responsibility now, fully his responsibility. Seeing how you are right now, how unstable, how fragile, he HAS to protect you, he just can't let you hurt like this. Such a sweet girl in such a large amount of pain, it almost makes him angry. Not at you, at the world for doing this to you.

He will protect you now

He has to

"so- um. Ya like jazz?" you let out a sad giggle through your tears, and he smirked. you weren't used to being so serious with him.

---

It took you a very long time to stop your crying, long enough that you had gotten into his car with him, and he began to drive. Where? You had no clue, but you knew he would only mean the best for you. The entire time he was comforting you in the car, when he wasn't sending worried glances he was giving you words of encouragement.

You didn't know what to say anymore, you and Aizawa have been close for quite some time, and naturally as a teacher he cared for you like one of his students, you were close in age, a little bit older than the kids he cared for. He has seen you at your lowest lows… clearly… but you don't think he's ever seen you this bad before, you honestly don't think you've seen yourself this bad before.

All you wanted to do was prove to yourself that you could handle this like an adult, that's why you never called or reached out, you just wanted to feel mature enough to handle your own issues. Without somebody forcing you to handle them.

“I am sorry- I didn't mean to scare you I know it's worse than last time- I can take care of myself I swear, you don't have to do anything” You muttered, bringing your knees up to your chest in the leather seat, usually Aizawa would lecture you if you did this because he always said it was “unsafe”, he didn't say anything this time. Right now you just felt embarrassed, you had just collapsed on him entirely.

“Don't apologize, it isn't your fault. You're gonna be okay, ill make sure.” his words were blunt (as usual, but more comforting than anything else he has ever said to you before, he made it sound more like a promise than a statement. He reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze before returning to his normal driving. The atmosphere remained comfortably quiet for a few more moments before you decided to speak again.

“so.. . where are we going?” You asked, hoping it was someplace nice, away from all your responsibilities. you weren't opposed to going to his house, but you knew that if you did, you would cave in even more. Meaning your independence would revert to how it was.

“Home. “

—————————————

I’m back lol. It’s been a while so I hope this was good, I have felt with some mental instability in the past so o tried to use my knowledge from my own personal expierience here, don’t come for me if it doesn’t fit your own.

Tysm for requesting! I’m so excited to start writing again. Love you all! And have a great day!

Bye!

[hightwers]

TEACHER'S PET ─── ANAKIN SKYWALKER

summary: anakin skywalker, sorry the teacher's aide anakin skywalker. teachers and students aren't supposed to be this close, right? it's a bad idea, right?

warnings: smut, gaslighting, coercion and manipulation. themes of student/teacher relationships are present. mdni, 16+. fem reader, usage of the word cunt, cock, pussy, etc. talking you through an orgasm.

Everyone knew Mr. Skywalker; he was the young teacher's aide. He was fairly young, couldn't have been more than 23.

And he was kind, charismatic, and helpful. He was often seen helping other students during office hours, staying late to grade and correct assignments.

It was said that he had a favorite student, but that's neither here nor there.

It was the first time she had failed a test. A big one. Fuck. This was avoidable had she actually taken the time to study.

And she didn't. Instead she decided to fuck around and get drunk with several people from her class. To be fair, it had been fun in the moment.

And much to her dismay, Mr Skywalker had asked her to stay after class.

Not wanting to leave anyone hanging, she did.

"Hey! I didn't think you'd stay! Cool, as you know Matt didn't stay today, sorry about that, it really should be him talking to you about your exam," he apologizes profusely as if that makes the situation better.

She sits there, quiet, and nodding along. "No, I mean its fine, you're his aide, you know just as much as he does,"

"Right, right, right," he says with a laugh. "So, what's up? You never score anything lower than a 94, and this time you have a 37, what happened?"

Ah there's the question. "And I understand that things happen, but are you okay? Everything okay at home? Was the material too difficult?"

She shakes her head. "No, I just... Long weekend, didn't prepare enough,"

He nods in understanding. "Well, you are young, so," he laughs understandingly. "We'll give you a retest, just come back in a week. Study the material, if you can't understand it, come find me and we'll work on it together, yeah?"

She nods. "Thank you Mr Skywalker," she replied with a slight smile.

"Anakin, we're not in class at the moment," he corrected.

Her smile widened. "No, I suppose we're not," she agrees, her fingers intertwine with her own.

"You know, you don't have to take the retest, there's. . . something else you could do," he offers hesitantly.

She perks up. "What's that?"

His eyes glimmer with excitement and he presses his lips together. "Oh, its uh nothing, nevermind,"

She deflated just a little. "Aw, what's the matter? It's not like you need a friend, right?"

He shifts uncomfortably in a chair. "Uh no, but really, its fine,"

She moved closer to him and leans over his desk. "Why? Its not like I'm gonna beg to suck you off," she joked. "Unless you ask me to,"

His eyes glimmer. "I'm not sure that's an appropriate. . . suggestion," he whispers. "But. . ."

She rises from her chair. "But?" she asked, leaning against the desk, sitting on the edge.

He glanced at her. "If. . . " he begins and shakes his head. "No, its not right," he muttered to himself.

She glanced at him. "I'll do anything," she whispers. "I swear, please,"

He shakes his head. "Morally its just not right," he says. "You understand, right?"

"Mr Skywalker," she pleads. "I'll do anything,"

His lips quirk at her comment. "Anything?" he asked.

She nodded.

"On your knees, sweet girl," he whispers and his eyes flicker with excitement as she does. "You have to be quiet sweet girl," he whispers.

The pet name fills her with a warm feeling, it courses through her as she kneels in front of him, her hands reach for the buckle on his pants and he swats her hand away. "Patience is a virtue, Darling," he whispers.

She moved closer to him, carefully unbuckling his pants and belt, tugging his pants down slightly, and leaving him in his boxers.

There's a tent in his pants, aroused to the point of wincing when her fingers brush him through the thin cloth. "God," he moans softly.

She's pleased with the reaction and her hand slides into the briefs, her fingers rubbing at the slit on the head of his cock, causing a soft and low moan to escape his lips.

A part of her knows that she needs to stop, that she needs to draw a line but the other part of her knows that she'll never have this opportunity again.

Her hands make the motion to tug the boxers down, leaving him standing at attention and then it hits her. "I should stop," she whispers.

He shakes his head. "No, please, don't stop," he begged softly. "We don't have to talk after, you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to,"

She looks at him, he looks desperate and he's shaking from all the feelings stirring within him; she falls to her knees again and pressed a kiss to his tip, swirling her tongue around him.

Her mouth engulfs him, her hand working whatever doesn't fit in her mouth. She allows herself a small laugh as his fingers tangled in her hair, grasping and tugging at it as he raked his fingers through her scalp. "Please," he pleads.

She groans around his cock as he begins to thrust himself into her throat, she controls his pace with her hand and head. She can tell that Anakin was trying to keep his moans and groans to himself as she rakes her teeth along his cock. His sharp intake of breath spears through her like a jolt of electricity down her spine and throughout her body as she licks the bead of his salty seed.

Anakin makes the mistake of looking down, her eyes were on him as she works his length with one hand, her full lips wrapped around the head of his cock, her tongue swirling around him and he nearly whimpered from the sensation.

She enjoys watching him in this desperate state. He's basically whimpering for her at this point and the minute its all over, with his seed dripping from the corner of her lips, she pulled away from him, her throat raw and abused from how his shaft forced itself down her throat.

He's begging her to keep this a secret, begging her to never speak of it again.

She won't, but she'll never forget how he begged her to, and how he promised her that she'd never speak to him again.

It was a one time thing, just to get her grade up, right...?

authors note: part two? let me know!! this was also... taking me forever to write. this originally started as a concept on tiktok because of @ioveanakin's edit.

[lightlycareless]

Not really Naomi's first day of school, but more like your and Naoya's reaction to it. Mostly yours, Naoya tends to be quite... distant because of work ugh I hate it. 😿😭😭😭 I just like writing silly domestic things :)

warnings: fluff. domestic au; you have a beautiful daughter with Naoya named Naomi. He is a good husband!!! as well as an overprotective father, just like you.

Happy reading!

“—but nothing too far, we must be able to answer quickly if something happens!”

“Then why are we even considering beyond the estate? There’s no safer place than here!”

“Well, you are right in some way… but she still deserves to make friends, you know? Hang out with kids her age, make friends… do things of her age! And not limit herself to me or my staff…”

“No one will be good enough for my little mochi. We might as well keep her here, you know? Besides, she actually doesn’t need to go to school. She has her whole life set up already just for being my daughter!”

“Oh, Naoya, just listen to yourself! We can’t deprive Naomi of the world! It’s her right, just as anybody else’s”

“But we can choose what’s right for her, and I think her being homeschooled is the best option.”

“…For us, not for her.”

Naoya sighs.

Seems that at the end of the day, no matter how much the two tried to avoid the subject, they always came back to the same conclusion: Naomi needed to go to school.

No homeschooling, no private tutoring, none of that. She ought to go to an actual building where she’d meet other people, from teachers ready to aid her growth, to kids who wished to befriend and play with her.

It was a day that everybody knew was coming, and yet, you and Naoya couldn’t help but feel highly unprepared; mainly due to both needing to prolong the inevitably.

And neither could be blamed, after all, you and Naoya had grown accustomed to having little Naomi around all day; hearing her cute giggles resounding across the estate, the pitter patter of her feet running from one side of the hallway to the other, her witty chatter that often made little to no sense, yet you loved hearing, for it filled the cold, emptiness of your home with her warm presence, to her adorable snores…

You didn’t want her to go. You wished her to stay…

But as good parents, this needed to be done. And soon, instead of taking Naomi to accompany you to your errands, or your quick runs to satisfy whatever sweet craving you had, you’d be taking her to school; to leave her there for seemingly endless hours, unable to know what she was doing.

If she was happy, if she needed you.

And yet, that was the beauty of watching her grow; another part of you wanting to accompany her through this special moment and all that pertained through it: from buying her first backpack, dressing her up in her first school uniform, to helping her choose what hairstyle she wanted for her first day—

It was all exciting for you and Naoya.

Didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult for overbearing parents like you to drop her off at the gates of whatever prestigious school both decided to enroll her in (only the best, Naoya required, anything less is just a waste of my time).

You naturally preserved the moment through thousands of pictures, a few selections posted on her dedicated Instagram and causing an expected commotion in your family.

naomis_grandpa: Naomi-chan looks adorable as ever!! I can’t believe she’s going to school already—time sure flies by! Why don’t we celebrate her first day of school by having a small gathering? I can arrange something over there!

l/n_hinata: Oh, I wish I could’ve been there but you know how work is 😥😥!! I’ll call you later to ask how her first day went (and if you’re faring well lol) Good luck, Naomi-chan!!

l/n_ren: Haha, she looks just like you on your first day, all the way down to the pout! The resemblance is uncanny, she really is your daughter.

zenin_y/n: I wasn’t like that on my first day..

the_strongest_one: Yes, you were! I remember! You wouldn’t stop crying once your mom and dad left you hahahaha!! I think I have a picture somewhere… anyways, did Naomi cry like you? Or was she strong, like me?

zenin_naoya: leave my wife alone.

the_strongest_one: sure sure, but does your wife know you just dm’d me asking for the picture?

zenin_y/n: Naoya.

But Satoru’s words did highlight an important point, one that you expected to happen yet surprisingly, it didn’t. Naoya was equally amazed when you told him about it…

In other words, contrary to all beliefs… Naomi did not cry. She did not whine, demand to be taken back home, nor did she tightly cling onto you as you guided her onto the entrance.

Nope, nothing at all.

Instead, she was excited to start this new adventure! See what this so-called school had to offer and seize the moment!

You won’t deny that seeing her so happy was both elating and disappointing in some ways, undoubtedly for having your expectations refuted—the two were virtually inseparable, after all, surely… Naomi was just as affected as you were.

But alas, the ones far more emotionally invested were you and Naoya, trying your best to move on with their day as if nothing had changed, behaving like Naomi was still at home, just around the corner…

Kind of dramatic, wasn’t it? She was to return home 4 hours later…

“Oh!” Your thoughts would be interrupted by the loud sound of your cellphone ringing, a call from the only person you expected to do so at this time, pausing your work and rushing to respond, a smile on your lips as your husband’s face appears on the screen. “Hello, my love! How are you? How’s work treating you?”

“Dreadful, princess—as always, every second I go on without you is pure torture.” He confesses, exhaustion evident in his face. Oh, how you wished to kiss his worries away. “Just wanted to check in on you, I didn’t call you on a bad time, did I?”

“No, not at all. I was just tending to the garden; I heard you asked the gardeners to change the flowers to something Naomi liked, That’s very sweet of you.”

“Well, she mentioned liking sunflowers—and you know I had to do it.” He states proudly, your heart flutters at his smirk. “And you? How is my pretty princess?”

“Tired.” You admit. “And a bit hungry too; it’s almost noon.”

“Don’t forget to eat, I don’t want to come home and hear you hadn’t.”

“I know, I know… it’s not like my staff will allow it anyways.”

“Good. It’s what I pay them from.”

“Naoya…”

“I know, I know.” He sighs. “No need to scold me.”

“I’m not scolding you…” you pout, Naoya laughs.

“You’re adorable—anyways, do you know how my beloved dumpling is doing? I’ve missed her so much.”

“Ah, right! Wait, I think she should be awake right now so you can see her!”

“Wait,Y/N—" Naoya tried his best to lessen the shock which you would inevitably encounter once acknowledging reality, called out your name a few more times, but it was all for naught for you were determined into getting to Naomi’s room, hoping to find her playing with her toys in the company of either your seamstress Hitomi, or your cook Haruko, the latter being her favorite nee-san at the moment (though you don’t tell Hitomi that).

To see the glow of your face dim upon entering your daughter’s room is a sight that will remain imprinted in the back of Naoya’s mind, filled with an overwhelming need to comfort you, yet impotent to do so while kilometers away.

There’s no doubt now that you remember where Naomi was supposed to be, pushing you into a vivid emptiness her absence placed in your heart: a sentiment you never thought possible until becoming a mother.

“Y/N…” Naoya murmurs, heart-stricken upon seeing the sorrow in your face.

“Oh, Naoya… how could I forget that she was at school?” you lament, defeated.

“She’s always been there, it’s only natural that you’d forget.” Naoya attempts to console you, you sigh. “…What makes you feel this way? Besides missing her, of course.”

“… I don’t know, I guess… I fear that she might not like school at all. That the teachers don’t like her either… that she doesn’t get along with the kids…”

“She’ll be alright, my love. Naomi is a good kid, she’s our daughter after all.”

“I know, I just… wished I could be there for her. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but that’s how it’s always been! I’m there for her when she needs me… and she’s here for me when I need her…

I just… miss her, I guess.”

“I’m sure she misses you too.” Naoya can be nothing but understanding of the solitude you must feel in a place like the Zen’in estate now that he, and your daughter, were away.

Naomi had truly come into your life at the best moment, a blessing of sorts, that is without a doubt. For not only was she remembrance of the ever-growing love you felt for one another, and the achievement of a personal milestone…

But also, the one to fill the void your husband’s absence had unwittingly given you.

Though you knew the type of relationship you’d have once getting together with Naoya and all that his demanding career entailed, it didn’t make it any easier to live out. There were countless nights were your heart ached so much to have him near, and yet, all you could do is anxiously wait for his return—hope there would be one, if fate hadn’t decided to cruelly rip him—

You worry that your attachment to Naomi might come to harm her in the long run, that you’d hinder her growth for your own personal desire…

But you just loved her so much to act otherwise. You just wanted the best for her, and nothing less. Was it all too wrong?

“She’ll be home soon, you’ll see.” Naoya adds, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your gaze returns to him, to his gentle smile, a reminder that he’ll always support you. “And when she is, I will call her, and she’ll tell us all about her first day at school.”

“Do you think she’s having fun? Or do you think she’s afraid? She’s never been that social, you know? At least not when meeting new people. What if she doesn’t get along with anyone? Or what if no one likes her? Oh, she’d be devastated….!” You naturally fret as a concerned mother; there is nothing you’d like more than your daughter to be liked by everyone!

“I wish I could tell you.” Naoya continues, understanding your concerns for he too considered them—experienced them, in fact. He’s known what it felt to be lonely, even when given everything in the world. So, the last thing he desired was for his daughter to go through the same. “But there’s one thing I know for certain.”

“What is it…?”

“That she’s an adorable kid. The type one could only love. And if they don’t, they’re stupid.” He shrugs. “And there’s no cure for stupidity, so don’t worry about anything; She’s perfect just the way she is… and I know that because she’s got you as a mother.”

“Naoya… when did you get all sappy on me?” you murmur, doing your best to hold back your tears.

“I—I’m not sappy, I’m just… saying the truth.” He stammers, and though subtle, you’re still able to see a tint of red in his cheeks. “How about I pick you two up after work and we get something to eat? It’s been a while since we’ve gone down to the city.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful! And that way we can also celebrate Naomi’s first day of school! I can’t wait to hear all about it; I’ve always loved how cheerful she spoke, makes everything far more entertaining!”

“We just gotta keep this a secret from your father; he’s been calling me non-stop about a supposed reunion he wants to make for our daughter.” Naoya warns. “Haven’t seen him so enthusiastic since… well, he’s always like this, isn’t he?”

“I kind of feel bad for leaving him out…”

“Well, he is on the other side of the country.”

“If it were up to him, I think he would’ve liked her to be enrolled in a school over there. And as much as I love it when they spend time together…”

“Yes?”

“…We’re a bit too much, aren’t we?” Naoya laughs at your words. “People might think we’re bad parents…”

“No, Y/N. I know for a fact that I have much to improve, but not you. Never.” Naoya smiles, wanting nothing more than to hug and kiss your insecurities away. For he could be nothing but glad that his daughter was unconditionally loved, cherished far more than his family even bothered to care.

Your worries and enthusiasm just proved what he always knew, what he saw the moment his eyes fell on you, what his heart sung when he fell in love:

“You’re absolutely perfect.”

🥺

[freywrites1928]

Forbidden

Aizawa x Student Fanfic || (student is 18)

TW: student teacher relationship, smut

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Part One:

“Oh, yes! Right there!” I moan out as his tongue sweeps expertly over my sensitive clit.

“You like that, huh?” His deep voice whispers over my core. “You’re so wet for me, and just from a few licks. What a little slut.”

With that, he brings up his hand, looks me in the eye with a dark expression, and inserts two long fingers as he continues his work on my clit.

“Mmh, fuck…” I hum as I keep my eyes on the gorgeous man between my legs.

“Yeah, that’s right. Keep your eyes on me, I want to see your face as you come undone from just my fingers and tongue.”

He begins to pump his fingers faster, in and out, in and out, curling them slightly so they brush against my g-spot with every pass. He keeps his eye contact as he brings his thumb up to aid in his assault of my clit.

“Oh, yes. Yes! I’m so close!” I manage out as I try to maintain our eye contact.

“Yes, that’s a good girl. Cum for me darling. Cum all over my fingers and tongue like the good little slut you are.”

“Yes. I’ll cum for you, please don’t stop! Right there! Yes. Yes!”

“OW!” I’m suddenly jolted awake as I feel a slight sting on my forehead. “Did you just flick me?” I look over to see the purple haired menace grinning back at me.

“Well yeah, I had to. I tried calling your name a few times, but you wouldn’t wake up. We’re almost there.” Shinsou points out the window.

I look over him, and sure enough, our bus is driving down the dirt road that took us to the annual camping grounds. Man, I really don’t feel like enduring this camp for a whole week. And boy, am I pissed right now at Toshi and his shit ass grin for waking me up from such a beautiful dream,

“Ouch!” He yelps as I suddenly flick him right back on his forehead. “Jeesh, would you rather I have let you continue moaning like that for the entire bus to hear?”

“Yes, actually I would. You couldn’t have just waited 3 more seconds?” I try to angerly whisper yell at him, but it came out as more of a laugh. His grin spread again and soon we’re both laughing like school children. With an over dramatic sigh, I lean over to rest my head onto the shoulder of my best friend. We are silent for a few moments, looking out the window.

“So, was it me in the dream? Because you know, I could sneak into your tent one of the… Ouch!” He yelps as I once again flick him on his forehead. “If you continue to do that, you’ll leave a mark!”

“Good, you deserve it.” I state as I lean back onto his shoulder. Strong, muscular but not too bulky. I look at my friend. He’s handsome, well built, and we get alone great (which I can’t say about most people I interact with.) And not to mention, we can relate to each other’s struggles that come with the burden of having mind based quirks. All this put together, and it was only natural that we sought out a relationship that was more than just basic friendship. Though, we both agreed from our first time together that it would only be friends with benefits and nothing more.

At first, I was skeptical because anytime you hear about a friends with benefits situation, it always turns messy. Not with us though. I find it almost strange, our friendship has remained the same and neither of us have caught romantic feelings or have gotten jealous or anything. We are truly just best friends who help each other out when we get horny or need physical comfort. Or at least, we were that way.  

After our last hook up, about a month ago now, I told Toshi it was the last time. Of course he rolled his eyes, because I always say that when I get crush on someone. The way I figure it, even if we aren’t bothered by that sort of thing, most other people aren’t going to go for a girl who’s sleeping with someone else. Usually, the crush I have goes no where since I don’t ever actually talk to the person I’m crushing on, so it fades, and I’m right back to Toshi’s bed.

Not this time though. It’s been a month, and I’m still firm on my resolve, because this crush is definitely not going anywhere anytime soon. I can tell Toshi’s getting a bit frustrated. He acts calm and cool all the time, but he’s really just an awkward dope who also has trouble connecting with other people. As a result of that, he doesn’t know how to approach people in a ‘seducing’ type of way so now he’s bordering on sexually frustrated. Since I’m not there to help him out, he doesn’t know what to do. I find it funny. Him, not so much.

My head is still resting on the purple haired boy’s shoulder, as the bus continues to rumble along the road, passing by the beautiful forest scenery. I look into his eyes a moment, since that’s all the time I need to activate my quirk.

I immediately regret it.

“Oh my god!” Why are you thinking about that at such a peaceful moment!” I whisper yell as I pull out of Toshi’s mind. “I was sitting here reflecting on our wonderful friendship, and you’re over here thinking about the time you tied me up with your binding cloth! You pervert!” I shove his shoulder to emphasize my disgust.

“Hey now!” Toshi retorts. “You were the one having a sex dream and moaning right next to my ear just minutes ago. What do you expect! I am a guy after all.” He tries his best to look innocent but his mischievous eyes and slowly emerging grin ruins it. “And besides, I’m not convinced your dream wasn’t about me, so I’m not doing anything wrong.”

I roll my eyes at him. “You’re so full of yourself.” I say as a lightly punch him in the shoulder, earning me a real smile from him in return. “But, you should know, it really wasn’t about you.”

“Oh yeah Mia, then who was it about this time?” Toshi grins and raises his eyebrow at me, but the smirk I give him wipes his face blank. “Nope, never mind. I do not want to know.” He looks back out the window.

“Oh, but you were so eager to find out a second ago Toshi!” I taunt as I lean over and whisper in his ear. Just then the bus comes to a halt as we’ve finally arrived at the campground.

“No, I wasn’t that curious. You can keep it to yourself.” He nervously states trying to avoid looking at me.

The door of the bus opens and we see someone walk on to address the students.

“Calm down now.” A deep, tired sounding voice sounds through the bus. “Gather all your things. Everyone from all classes are going to meet in front of the main operations building.”

Toshi is still not looking at me as I lean over and whisper in his ear yet again. “You mean you don’t want me to tell you that person in my dream, the one that made me moan so hard even while sleeping…” Toshi finally looks over at me in what can only be described as agonizing despair and slight disgust. I look up towards the front of the bus, and Toshi follows my gaze, and we see him staring at us both. “…was your favorite mentor…” Toshi shakes his head trying to make the image that is no doubt forming go away as I proceed to smirk at the rough, dark haired man at the front of the bus. “…Aizawa sensei.”