#(Or if it's a completely different prof then with different focus.)

[greengoblinswifey]

Temple— Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— they always say “your body is a temple” and boy is nicholas’ body a temple you love to climb and worship.

warnings— PURE SMUT. fingering, hand job, oral(m receiving), unprotected sex, mirror play, spit kink, praise kink, degrading kink, body worship, ass slapping, choking, creampie, daddy kink, breeding kink, cum eating, rough sex, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— ovulating and wrote this based on these pictures because he looks so good, ugh, i NEED him. (not prof read)

You were wandering the aisles of your favorite boutique, surrounded by the chatter of other shoppers. Just as you picked up a cute dress, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You fished it out, expecting a simple text, but what you saw made your breath hitch and your pussy throb.

Nicholas had sent you a picture of himself shirtless, standing in his bathroom with the light cascading down his chiseled abs, his hair slightly damp and tousled and then one with the hat you gifted him on. He looked incredible, his physique had transformed since you first started dating for his new roles, becoming more defined and muscular, and it left you utterly speechless.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip as heat pooled in your core. God, he looks good. You remembered when you first met him, he was charming and sweet, and you loved him just as he was then. But this new version of him? It ignited something deep within you. It was as if every sculpted muscle was begging for your attention, and all you could think about was how much you needed him inside you, pounding you.

The dress you were holding suddenly felt heavier as you clutched it tighter, trying to maintain your composure in the middle of the store. Your thighs clenched instinctively, and you could feel the flush creeping up your cheeks. How was it possible for someone to look that good? You found yourself blushing, desperately trying to focus on the price tags in front of you, but your mind was racing with thoughts of him.

You quickly typed back, your fingers trembling as you tried to keep it casual. “Wow, what are you trying to do to me?” You hit send, your heart racing with anticipation. He was always playful, but this felt different, this felt more personal, more intimate.

As you made your way to the cash register, you could still see him in your mind, his body the definition of perfection. You swiped his card without a second thought, the thrill of using his money adding to your excitement. If only he were here right now. You imagined him behind you, his hands resting on your hips, whispering sweet nothings as you paid.

Your thoughts swirled with desire, longing to feel his warmth against your skin, to wrap your arms around him and pull him in close. His body was a temple, you thought, it was a holy site you craved to explore.

With a final glance at the dress in your hands, you decided to head home, your mind set on what would happen once you got there. You needed him, and you could already envision the fire igniting between you two as soon as you walked through the door.

As you rushed through the front door, adrenaline surged through you. You barely took the time to drop your shopping bags before you heard the unmistakable sound of the shower turning off.

You quietly made your way down the hallway, the steam still lingering in the air, and as you approached the bathroom, you caught a glimpse of him stepping out, droplets of water glistening on his perfectly chiseled body. Nicholas looked like a god, one you craved to worship, his muscles taut and glistening under the dim light, every curve and contour accentuated.

You leaned against the doorframe, mesmerized, your breath catching in your throat. This was everything you’d imagined and more. He dried himself off with a towel, completely unaware of your presence, and for a moment, you relished the view, every single inch of him was a work of art.

But you were done watching. The heat radiating from your core was too strong to ignore, and all rational thoughts slipped away. Without a second thought, you slipped out of your clothes, leaving yourself bare and vulnerable in the dim light.

The chill of the air contrasted sharply with the heat building inside you, but it only fueled your desire further. You stepped into the bathroom, your heart pounding, and when he finally turned to face you, his eyes widened in surprise and hunger.

“Nicholas,” you breathed, your voice thick with need. You stepped closer, the space between you two disappearing as the urgency of the moment enveloped you.

“Hey baby— oh shit.”

His towel dropped to the floor, forgotten, and in that instant, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, raw, exposed, and yearning for each other.

“Oh god, I need you so bad,” you whined, your body pressed against his as you desperately kissed him all over his chest and tipped to meet his cheeks and lips.

Nicholas pulled you close, laughter in his eyes as he felt your warmth enveloping him. “What’s gotten into you, pretty baby?” he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You looked up at him, your heart racing as you felt the heat radiating off his body. “Look at you,” you replied, your voice breathless. “Walking around here looking like this, sending me pictures of you shirtless… God, what do you expect?”

With a mischievous smile, you moved behind him, admiring his tall, muscular frame in the mirror. You couldn’t help but caress his abs, fingers tracing the defined lines, marveling at the way his body felt under your touch. He threw his head back in pleasure, a low groan escaping his lips as your hands explored him.

The atmosphere shifted, the playful banter giving way to something more primal. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body responded to your every caress. His thick, long cock was painfully hard now , and you could sense the need in him building, mirroring your own.

You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him gently as you both stared into the mirror. The sight was mesmerizing, his face contorting with pleasure, the way he fell apart under your touch, completely lost in the moment.

As you continued, you watched him unravel, utterly captivated by how hot he was, how perfectly he fit into your desires.

“Look at yourself daddy, I’m making you feel so good, you look so fucking sexy,” you panted, speeding up your movements.

You bit your lip as you felt him jump and throb in your hands, everything he did made you feral. Then, with a shudder and a low moan, you felt the warmth spill onto your hand, a testament to the electric connection between you two.

“Open your eyes,” you demanded. They fluttered open and he watched in the mirror as you sucked his cum from off your fingers before lifting them up to his lips making him taste what was left of himself. He hummed in content, the sound going straight to your pussy but you would deal with that problem soon.

“No,” you said, determination lacing your voice as you looked up at him. “I need to give you more. I want to show you just how much I appreciate you.”

Slowly, you sank to your knees, eyes locked onto his as you let your tongue glide over his chest, savoring the taste of his skin. You trailed your tongue down to his abs, worshipping every ridge and contour. “You’re so beautiful,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry. “So sexy, Daddy.”

His breath hitched at your words, and you could see the effect you had on him, his body responding to your every move. You reached down, wrapping your hand around his cock again, feeling him harden beneath your touch.

“Look at how big you are,” you praised, your voice dripping with admiration. “So perfect in my hands.” You leaned closer, giving him a teasing lick, savoring the taste of him, and your eyes rolled back in pleasure at how good he tasted. “Mm, you taste amazing daddy.”

With that, you took him into your mouth, feeling him fill you completely. The sounds of his pleasure willed you on, and you began to move, sending him to the back of your throat, lost in the rhythm of worshipping him. “You taste so good,” you whispered between breaths, and Nicholas groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, urging you on.

“Just like that, baby,” he praised, his voice thick with desire. “You’re fucking incredible.”

You continued, letting his praises wash over you, and as you felt him hold your head down and cum down your throat, it was like fireworks exploded around you. You savored the moment, knowing you had brought him to this point of ecstasy.

You couldn’t help but smile as you looked up at him, feeling bold. With your fingers, you gathered the rest of his release from his hard cock and brought it to your mouth. You took it in, savoring the taste, and smeared it and your saliva over his chiseled abs. You couldn’t resist the urge to lick it all off, your body shuddering with each stroke of your tongue.

“God, you’re fucking perfect, y’know that?” he said, watching you with a mix of awe and desire. “I appreciate that, baby. But now, it’s my turn to make you feel good.”

He positioned you in front of him, hoisting one of your feet up onto the counter, giving him a better angle. “Open your mouth,” he commanded softly, and you complied eagerly, watching as he spat into your waiting mouth. You swallowed it happily, feeling the rush of satisfaction.

Nicholas trailed his finger down your body, stopping at your soaking wet pussy. As he slipped a finger inside you, you gasped, your body arching toward him instinctively. “Look at yourself in the mirror,” he instructed, his voice thick with lust. “Look how beautiful you are.”

You glanced up, eyes locking with your reflection. The sight of you, flushed and breathless, sent a thrill through you. Nicholas’ finger worked expertly inside you, curling just right, and the pleasure began to build. “That’s it, baby. You’re so beautiful when you come apart like this,” he praised, his gaze never leaving your face as he watched you surrender to the waves of ecstasy. “Let me see you feel good.”

With each movement of his fingers, the pleasure surged higher, and you found yourself lost in the sensation. “Daddy,” your moans filling the room as you finally reached your release, trembling under his touch.

“That’s it, I’ve got you baby, daddy’s got you,” he cooed, rubbing your clit fast as your body jolted and slowly came down from your high.

Nicholas trailed kisses down your neck and across your shoulders, his lips warm against your skin. “Look in the mirror, baby,” he murmured, his breath hot against you. You obeyed, your heart racing as you met your own gaze, feeling every kiss ignite your desire.

With a sudden, playful movement, he bent you over the counter, a sharp smack landing on your ass. “You look so sexy like this,” he teased, watching you wiggle your backside against him. You grinned back at him, biting your lip. “You look like a Greek god,” you shot back, and he smirked, pride flashing in his eyes.

“Oh yeah?” he replied, holding your neck gently but firmly, bringing you back against his chest. You arched into him, feeling his hard cock tease against you as he slipped inside, filling you completely.

He began to pound into you roughly, his grip on your neck ensuring you were locked onto his gaze in the mirror. “Keep those eyes on me,” he commanded, and when you felt the urge to close them, he shook you slightly. “Look at yourself!”

“Daddy, you feel so good,” you gasped, feeling the pleasure building inside you.

“Tell me more,” he urged, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me how fucking hot I am.”

You nodded, breathless, “You’re so hot, so beautiful. I love your body, daddy. I love how you look as you pound into me.”

���Such a dirty slut,” he teased, reveling in the sight of you enjoying every second. He rubbed your clit, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through you. “Look at yourself being fucked.”

With a loud moan, you surrendered to the man behind, your release washing over you as you cried out his name like it was the only word you knew.

Nicholas smirked, a glint in his eye. “I’m not done with you yet,” he declared, hoisting you up effortlessly, arms hooked under your legs. He turned you sideways, positioning you perfectly so you could watch him slam into you.

“Worship me,” he commanded, his voice deep and gravelly making you throb.

You felt a surge of excitement course through you, and you nodded, biting your lip as you gazed into his eyes. “You’re everything, Nicholas. So strong, so perfect,” you whispered, your heart racing at the power he held over you, “you’re so fucking beautiful, your body is a work of art.”

With each thrust, he drove deeper, filling you completely. “That’s it, baby. You know how to treat me right,” he growled, his tone playful yet commanding. “Show me how much you want me.”

You leaned forward, kissing him passionately, your hands roaming over his chiseled chest and arms. “I need you,” you breathed between kisses. “You feel so good. I can’t get enough daddy.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice thick with lust. “I want to see you cum again.”

You gasped as he hit that sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. “Daddy!” you cried out, feeling yourself on the edge once more. “I’m so close!”

“Then let go for me,” he urged, his eyes locked on yours, watching as the ecstasy took over. “Worship your man, baby.”

With one final thrust, you felt the familiar rush of pleasure envelop you as you climaxed, a wave of satisfaction washing over you. “Nicholas!” you cried, and he groaned in response, losing himself in the moment as he held you close, his body trembling with the intensity of it all but still not releasing.

He didn’t let you go. Instead, he laid your body down on the counter just a little, your legs wrapped tightly around him as he pounded into you once more. The world flipped upside down as you caught your reflection in the mirror, his tall frame hovering above you. The sight of him, muscles glistening and face twisted in pleasure, made your head spin.

“Who’s your daddy?” he asked, his voice thick with desire, his hand firm around your neck, exerting just enough pressure to send shivers down your spine.

“You,” you gasped, barely able to catch your breath. “You look like a god, so so h-handsome.”

The feeling of being so close to him made you dizzy, and his relentless thrusts only intensified the sensation. “I’m gonna fill you up and breed you like a bitch,” he growled, and your body responded to his words, craving more.

“Please,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper as you gasped for air, but the urgency in your tone said everything. “I want it. I want you. I want your cum inside me!”

He smirked, the heat of his breath against your skin sending another wave of pleasure through you. “Since you think I’m so perfect, we’re gonna make the most perfect little babies,” he teased, pounding harder, deeper. You could feel the tension building as he brought you closer to the edge once more.

With a final, powerful thrust, he filled you completely, each pulse of his hot cum sending waves of ecstasy coursing through both of you. You felt him tremble against you as he held your neck tightly, ensuring you were looking at yourselves in the mirror.

As the high faded, exhaustion washed over you. He scooped you up into his arms, your head resting on his shoulder like a baby, ironic, considering what just happened. He brought a towel to clean you up, laying you gently on the bed, his lips trailing soft kisses across your skin.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmured, pride evident in his voice. “You took me so well. I’m so proud of you. You’re so perfect, princess.”

You cuddled into him, tracing circles on his pecs as you kissed his chest, savoring the warmth and safety of his embrace. In that moment, everything felt right, the world outside forgotten as you enjoyed the afterglow of what you had just shared.

[writingwithfolklore]

How to Nail your School Essays

                Not to brag, but I’m kind of a big deal when it comes to essays at my school. Since I started highschool I haven’t received a grade less than 90% on an essay—so I’m here to share my secret. This works for the classic essay, but you can also use the same advice and fit it to formal reports or other academic writing.

1. Your essay is about 2 things, demonstrated 3 or more times

This is how I’ve always thought about essays. They’re about two ideas, demonstrated as many times as you need to fill the wordcount. Shakespeare + Feminism, Media + Truth versus Misconception, etc. etc. If you’re lucky, your teacher or prof will give you one of your elements. You’ll get assignments like, “write an essay about Hamlet” or “write an essay about the American dream” lucky you, that’s your first thing—now you need to connect it with another.

This connecting idea is my favourite part because you just get to choose a concept or idea you’re interested in. Here’s a tip, if your first/given topic is something concrete, choose an abstract connecting idea. If your given topic is something abstract, choose a concrete.

So, Hamlet (concrete) could be paired with any abstract concept: Loyalty, Truth, Feminism, etc.

However, if your prof gives you something like, “truth” or “race theory”, you’ll find it much easier to connect that with a more concrete thing, like a book, movie, or other piece of media, or even a specific person.

If you are luckiest, your prof will give you both things, “write about the American Dream in The Great Gatsby” in this case, you’re onto the next stage.

2. Stick to the formula

Tried, tested, true. Nothing wrong with a formula, especially not when it gives you A+ grades. Typical essay structure is:

Intro with thesis

2. 1st Body

2a. Evidence that proves it 1

2i. Justify its relevance

2b. Evidence that proves it 2

2ii. Justify its relevance

Etc.

3. 2nd Body

3a. Evidence that proves it

3i.Justification

Etc.

4. 3rd Body

4a. Rise and repeat, you know where this is going.

5. Some may argue…

6. Conclusion

Let’s break it down.

Thesis:

                Thesis completely outlines all your points, or the three+ places you’re demonstrating your connection, and why it matters.

                Here is an intro + thesis I wrote a couple years ago:

“This literature review will explore the impacts influencer marketing has on the children that regularly consume social media content. Specifically, this review will focus on how influencers can impact children’s brand preferences, dietary choices, and lastly, the influx of children taking advantage of this system and becoming influencers themselves.”

Or

“Burned discusses the human aspect of sex work and reverses reader’s expectations on sex workers, while Not in My Neighbourhood discusses prostitutes as victims of a system created against them. Both challenge readers’ perceptions of sex workers, effectively drawing attention to the ethics of displacing sex workers from their cities.”

                So you have your connection (children and social media)/(Burned and Not in My Neighbourhood and sex work), and the different ways you plan on exploring or proving that idea (children’s brand preferences, dietary choices, children becoming influencers.) etc.

                You may also have a more specific stance in your thesis. Such as, “In Macbeth, ambition is shown to be Macbeth’s ultimate downfall in these three ways.”

The Body Paragraphs

                You start out every body paragraph with the point of the paragraph, or what it’s aiming to prove. Such as, “Influencers often include advertisements within their content, which can encourage children to feel more amiably to certain brands their favourite content creators endorse frequently more than others.”

                After this claim, you spend the rest of the paragraph further proving it through examples. This will look like citing a specific source (a book, academic journal, quote, etc.) such as, “The authors claim likeable influencers can associate their likeability with the products they use, influencing children’s perception of brands, referred to as ‘meaning transfer’ (De Veirman et al. 2019)” (super important to always cite these sources!)

                The last part is after each example/proof--you need to justify why this proves your point/is important. So, “This proves children are more influenced towards certain products depending on how close of a relationship they perceive to have with the influencer.”

                Typically, your evidence will all lead into each other so you can transition to the next piece of proof, then the justification, rinse and repeat until you’re finished your paragraph. You can have as many pieces of evidence as you want per paragraph, and the longer your word requirement, the more you’ll want to fit into each point (or the more bodies you want to have.)

                Piece of evidence + why it matters, rinse and repeat.

Some May Argue:

                This is a small paragraph just before your conclusion where you anticipate an argument your readers may have, and disprove it. So, for example, you’d start with, “Some may argue that with parent supervision, the impacts of influencers on children could be lessened or moot. However…” and then explain why they’re wrong. This strengthens your argument, and proves that you’ve really thought out your stance.

Conclusion:

                Lastly, you want to sum up all the conclusions you came to in a few sentences. Your last line is one of the most important (in my opinion). I call it the mic drop moment. Leaving a lasting impact on your reader can bring your essay from an A to an A+, so you really want to nail this final sentence.

                My final sentence was, “Ultimately, it is hard to know in advance how technology and social media will impact the development of children who have always grown up with some form of screen, but until they grow up, parents and caregivers need to take care in the content their children consume, and their very possible exploitation online.”

This sentence is backed by the entirety of the essay that came before it, and usually leaves a little something to chew on for the readers.

Any other tips I missed?

[goblinontour]

Nothing Gold Can Stay

a different side of him…and it’s really hot

part 5 | series masterlist

warnings: prof!al, age gap (not specified), smut, oral (m/f receiving), piv, spanking, orgasm denial(ish), backshots!!!

word count: 9.5k

It was hot. Unbearably hot. With the academic year winding down, you and Alex spent more and more time at home, finishing up final assignments and reports. Alex couldn’t stand it. He hated this part. Office hours were dull, writing reports even more so, and working from home felt more like a prison sentence than anything. But having you there made it slightly more bearable. A lot more bearable actually…If only the heat wasn't so stifling.

Alex couldn’t focus. He let you use his office for your studies, so you kind of claimed it as yours subconsciously. So he found himself wandering the house aimlessly, the oppressive heat making it hard to think straight. He peered into the office, seeing you deeply engrossed in your work at his desk.

You didn't notice him at first, but when you looked up, your eyes widened. Alex stood at the door, completely naked except for the chain around his neck and the tattoo on his arm. He caught your gaze, looking at him, staring, eyeing him up and down, and if you weren’t so shocked you maybe would have noticed him smirking at your reaction.

“What? Did you expect me to wear a suit in my own house? I’m choosing comfort today…and it’s so fucking hot.” he declared, moving to the sofa but never taking his eyes off you.

He lounged there for a moment, but his restless energy got the better of him. He began pacing the room, his presence an insistent reminder of his proximity. You tried to concentrate on your work, but his pacing, his very existence, was distracting you.

Finally, he approached you, sliding into your lap on the office chair. His skin was warm and sticky against yours, and you could feel his frustration with the heat radiating off him.

“God, it’s so hot in here.” he murmured, starting to unbutton your shirt slowly.

You raised an eyebrow. “I get that, but why are you unbuttoning my shirt?”

He grinned, pausing to kiss your neck. “First of all, it’s my shirt.” Another kiss. “And second…” His lips brushed against your skin, sending shivers despite the heat, “I can’t have you overheating in here, darling…you should thank me.”

His kisses grew more insistent, and despite the sweltering heat, you felt a different kind of warmth spreading through you. And yet, you couldn’t help but laugh, pushing him back slightly.

“If this is your idea of keeping cool, you’re doing a terrible job.” you teased, but there was no mistaking the affection in your voice.

He chuckled, nuzzling against your neck. “Maybe. But at least it’s more interesting than writing reports.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“How are your boobs?” he asked, trying to stay serious, but you could tell he was playing.

You gave him a playful look, “They're just fine?”

“Let me see.” he insisted, grabbing one in his hand and acting as if he were inspecting it carefully. You stared at him, confused.

“What? I just wanted to make sure they're okay.” he said with mock seriousness.

You looked at him, trying to hold your expression, but then both of you burst out laughing. He kissed you again, this time with a deeper, lingering passion. His lips moved against yours, making you forget the heat, the work, everything but the feel of him.

His kissing became more telling, his lips moving with a slow, deliberate passion that sent shivers through you despite the oppressive heat. His mouth was warm and wet, his tongue dancing with yours, exploring and tasting. You could feel every movement, every shift of his lips against yours, soft yet demanding.

As his hips pressed closer, you felt the unmistakable hardness of his cock brushing against your thigh. Each subtle grind, each slow movement, teased both of you, slowly but surely building the anticipation. His breath hitched slightly with each thrust, the friction driving him to the brink.

You broke the kiss for a moment, your eyes meeting his, dark with desire. He smirked at how quickly he got you turned on, but it was edged with his own need. “You know,” he murmured, his voice husky, “If anyone walked by right now, they’d have quite the view.”

You glanced over his shoulder, realising you were right in front of the window. The thought sent a thrill through you, adding to the already heady mix of sensations. “Maybe I should open it," he continued to tease, “Let them hear us too. But it’s too hot even for that.”

You chuckled, but the sound caught in your throat as he ground his hips harder, the slow friction against his cock making him moan softly. “I’m so in the mood for a lazy fuck.” he confessed, sounding almost desperate.

You tried to muster some resistance, remembering the work waiting on the desk. “Alex, I’m busy, I can’t-“

He silenced you with another kiss, his lips pressing firmly against yours. “I’m your professor, you can’t say no to this.” he whispered, his voice a mix of pleading and confidence, his hands continuing their slow, deliberate movements.

You managed a playful smirk. “Is that so, Mr. Turner?”

“Mhm.” he replied, lips brushing against your neck. But you still shook your head, pushing him back gently.

“No, Alex. I really can’t.”

He sighed dramatically, “Ugh, fine.”

Sliding down from the chair onto his knees, he spread your thighs apart. The sticky sound of your skin peeling from the leather echoed in the room, adding to the already charged atmosphere. His eyes darkened as he saw your panties peeking from underneath the oversized shirt. The thin fabric barely concealed your arousal, and his breath hitched slightly at the sight.

With a mischievous grin, he pushed the light fabric of his shirt you were wearing to the side, teasing you over the material of your underwear. The subtle, playful touch made you jump, a spark of unexpected sensitivity coursing through you.

“Keep working.” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement and command.

His fingers traced light patterns over your panties, feeling the growing dampness. He watched in fascination as the material darkened with your wetness, a visual testament to your arousal. With a deft movement, he pulled your panties aside, revealing your glistening pussy. He took a moment to just look, his eyes drinking in the sight, his cock hardening and twitching at the view.

“God, you're so pretty.” he whispered, almost to himself.

His fingers returned, slipping past your slick lips, playing in the wetness. The sensation was electrifying, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through you. He found your clit between the tight folds of flesh and began flicking it, his movements precise and careful, driving you to the edge. The heat of his touch contrasted with the cool feeling of the wetness hitting the air, making every sensation more intense.

For him, the feeling was intoxicating. His cock, painfully hard, occasionally brushed against the floor from his position, the rough surface adding an unexpected layer of friction that only fueled his desire. The sight of your arousal, the way your body responded to his touch, made his own need almost unbearable.

He didn’t care about himself now though, his poor cock leaking precum onto the floor. No. All he wanted right now was to play with you, to watch you unravel under his touch. His fingers danced around your clit, flicking it with increasing intensity, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you. The wet sounds of his fingers moving in your slickness filled the room, a symphony to his ears.

He leaned in and his tongue flicked out, tasting your arousal, his lips following in the path of his fingers. The feeling was exquisite, his mouth warm and wet, every movement thought out perfectly to tease you. His cock twitched with every moan you made, his own arousal a constant reminder of his need for you.

Sweat quickly built up and dripped from the top of his thighs all the way to his knees, making the floor slick. He almost slipped, catching himself just in time, his movements becoming more deliberate and cautious. Your own thighs were slipping on the chair, the leather sticking to your skin from the heat and the sensations he was drawing out of you.

As he slipped a finger inside you, the wet squelching noises increased, growing louder and more obscene. The sound was intoxicating, a proof of just how turned on you were. He bit your inner thigh, the sharp sting pulling a gasp from your lips, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of desire and a plea for you to give in to him.

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice rough with need, "I need this. I need you."

The taste of you was addictive, a heady mix of salt and sweetness that coated his tongue and left him craving more. Each flick of his tongue was calculated to draw out your moans, his mouth exploring every inch of you. His fingers curled inside you, the slick, warm wetness enveloping them, the rhythm of his movements both torturous and perfect.

Your body reacted to his touch in ways you couldn’t control. His teasing strokes were too light, each one sending frustrating sparks of pleasure that left you wanting more. He lapped at you with slow movements, savouring every taste, every reaction you gave him.

His own pleasure was an afterthought, a dull ache between his thighs as his cock kept brushing against the slick floor. The sensation was maddening, the friction only adding to his desperate need. He bit down gently on your inner thigh again, a silent plea for you to give in, to let him have what he wanted.

The room was filled with the wet, lewd sounds of his fingers moving inside you, the intensity of the sensations making it hard to focus on anything else. His whispered pleas and the feeling of his mouth and hands on you were driving you to the edge, the line between pleasure and desperation blurring with every touch.

You couldn't resist any longer. The pen slipped from your fingers, everything you were working on forgotten. How could you even think you could concentrate with his mouth and fingers driving you insane? Grabbing his head, you bent down and kissed him, catching him off guard. He didn't have time to react, his fingers still buried inside you. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, tasting yourself on him. The mix of sensations was overwhelming, his wet, warm tongue meeting yours as you deepened the kiss, pulling him closer and surrendering to the heat of the moment.

You could feel his surprise melt into hunger, his kiss growing more urgent as he responded. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him more than anything else at that moment. His fingers continued their teasing movements inside you, the wet sounds mingling with the taste of your own juices on his tongue. It was intoxicating, overwhelming.

His other hand roamed up your body, slipping under the oversized shirt, his touch sending shivers through you despite the oppressive heat. You could feel his cock, hard and leaking, pressing against your thigh, the slick floor making his movements more frantic. He shifted, trying to find a better angle, almost slipping again, his breath hitching in frustration and desire.

You pulled back from the kiss, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “I can't think when you do that.”

“That's the point.” he murmured back, his voice rough with need. He thrust his fingers deeper, curling them inside you, the sensation making you gasp. “I want you to feel nothing but this.”

You could barely hold back a moan, your thighs slipping on the chair as he pushed you closer to the edge. The heat was unbelievers, the sweat mixing with the wetness between your legs, amplifying every touch, every sensation. You could feel his need, his desperation, in every movement, every kiss.

His teeth grazed your neck, his breath hot against your already burning skin as he kissed his way down your body. He reached your chest, his mouth closing around a nipple, sucking gently before biting down, just enough to make you gasp. His fingers never stopped their relentless teasing, the wet noises growing louder, filthier.

You grabbed his head again, pulling him back up to kiss him, your tongue slipping into his mouth, tasting the salt of your sweat mixed with the sweetness of his need. His fingers slipped out of you, and he bent back down to replace them with his tongue, diving into your wetness, licking and sucking with a desperation that mirrored your own.

His tongue flicked against your clit, making it impossible to think, to do anything but feel, just like he said he wanted. Your hips bucked against his mouth, your body responding to his every touch, every kiss. He was relentless, his need alone driving him, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

His fingers joined his tongue, slipping back inside of you, curling and thrusting in rhythm with his licks. The sensations were too much, too overwhelming, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, ready to fall.

“Alex…” you gasped, your hands gripping the sides of the chair, trying to hold on to something, anything, as he drove you closer to your orgasm. Or to insanity. Maybe both. "I-I can't...I need…”

He bit your inner thigh again, harder this time, pulling a scream from your lips. “Give in to me.” he murmured, his voice rough and desperate. “Let go. I need you to let go.”

And with that, you did. The wave of pleasure crashed over you, pulling you under, your body trembling and shaking with the force of it. You could feel him smiling against your skin, his tongue and fingers never stopping, driving you through it, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were nothing but a quivering, panting mess.

He rested his head on your thigh for a moment, catching his breath. The sheen of sweat on his brow glistened in the dim light, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Have I earned my fuck now?” he asked, his voice joking but clearly out of breath, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

You chuckled, equally breathless. “Yeah.”

He sat up, balancing himself on the edge of the desk for a moment before picking you up from the chair. His grip was firm yet gentle, the warmth of his hands seeping through your skin. He settled into the chair, then pulled you back onto his lap, your still clothed back pressed against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against you.

Alex's hands roamed over your body, fingers tracing the contours of your curves, enjoying the feel of your heated skin against his. His lips found the curve of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses there, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. The heat between you was almost too much, beads of sweat forming and mingling on your skin, but you didn’t mind it at this point. You could feel his cock pressing insistently against you, the hard length of him pulsing with need.

His hands snaked around you, his fingers dipping below the waistband of your panties. He pushed them down just enough, letting them slide to your knees before they dropped to the floor. The whole time, his hard cock rubbed between your arsecheeks, slick with both his precum and sweat, making it easy for him to slide against your skin.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice thick with anticipation. You nodded, feeling his hand guide his cock to your entrance. He slid inside you smoothly, the wetness making it effortless, yet the tightness due to your position made it all the more intense.

“Fuck…” he swore, his voice a low growl. “So tight...so perfect.”

Every inch of him was buried inside you, and you could feel his body shudder against yours. The sensation of him filling you completely, combined with the overwhelming heat, created a heady mix of pleasure and discomfort that was maddeningly good.

You gasped, gripping his thighs for support as he began to move, his strokes slow and deliberate, savouring the feeling of your walls clenching around him. The friction was exquisite, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through both of you. Everything was wet, slick with sweat and arousal, amplifying every movement, every touch.

“Take the shirt off.” Alex murmured, his voice rough.

You glanced at the window and shook your head. “But the window-”

“I don’t care.” he replied, his words taking a more commanding tone. He reached for the collar of the shirt and pulled it down from your shoulders. There was a momentary cool sensation, but the feeling of his hands roaming your now exposed body quickly brought the heat back. He kept the shirt in his hand, occasionally wiping the sweat from his forehead to keep it from dripping onto his face.

Alex's hands slid down your sides, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you firmly against him as he thrust into you. The rhythm he set was slow and deep, each thrust a measured stroke that made you feel all of him. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, the tightness of your position making every sensation more intense.

“God, you're amazing.” he murmured. His lips brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine again despite the heat. "So fucking wet...I can't get enough of you."

His words sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you could feel yourself clenching around him in response. Alex groaned, his grip on your waist tightening as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. The chair creaked beneath you, adding to the symphony of sounds filling the room. The wetness of your bodies moving together, the ragged breaths, the low moans of pleasure.

You could feel the sweat dripping down your back, mingling with his, making your bodies slide against each other with each movement. The heat was suffocating, but it only seemed to reel him further. Alex's fingers dug into your hips, guiding you as you moved together, each thrust pushing you closer to the brink.

He tried to take his chain off from around his neck but couldn't manage one-handed, his other hand wrapped tightly around you, keeping you from falling off his lap. “Help me take this off, please.” he said, his voice strained.

You didn’t understand at first, so he clarified, “The chain. Now, please. I can’t-”

You placed your left leg over his thigh, your other hanging between his legs, turning enough to unclasp the gold necklace for him. “Nothing gold can stay.” you whispered, stopping to kiss him. His thrusts slowed as well, your position making it difficult for him to move.

“Poetic…I thought that was my thing.” he whispered back between heavy breaths. “Any hidden meaning to that?”

“Are you asking me if I think we’ll last?” you asked.

“Hmm…so you’re saying we’re gold, huh?” he teased.

“I think we are.” you said.

“Yeah, you’re just as pretty…”

“And you’re just as soft, Mr. Turner.” you replied.

He responded with a hard thrust, making you moan and cling to him tighter. “Soft?” he asked jokingly, proceeding to push you forward, steadying yourself on the edge of the desk.

The shift in position intensified everything, making his movements even more pronounced. He resumed his rhythm, each thrust getting more powerful. You could feel the friction of his cock sliding in and out, the tension building with every stroke.

Alex's breath was hot against your back as he whispered, “You're driving me crazy, you know that?”

Your response was a breathless moan, the intensity of his thrusts stealing your words. His hands moved to your hips, gripping tightly, guiding you back into his hips as he pushed deeper inside you.

“Tell me how it feels.” he demanded, his voice rough and desperate.

“It feels…amazing.” you managed to gasp out, your nails digging into the wood for support. “So deep, so good…”

He groaned in response, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more erratic. The sweat dripping from his forehead onto your back made you twitch in his hold. You could feel the tension building inside you, the pressure mounting with each thrust.

“I’m close.” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Me too.” he replied, his grip on your hips tightening as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. “So close,” he groaned, his voice strained with effort, “I can't hold back much longer.”

“Don't.” you whispered, your own voice breathless with need. “Come inside me, I want to feel you.”

Alex still wasn't entirely used to coming inside you, despite you being on the pill for a while now. He loved the feeling, though, always waiting for your permission each time. The sensation of filling you up so deep, of his cum spreading around his cock as he fucked it into you, was something he cherished every single time.

He groaned as he thrust deeply into you, the slickness of your combined arousal making each movement more intense. “Fuck.” he swore, the word barely escaping his lips as his orgasm built. You felt his cock throb inside you, a sign of his impending release.

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself completely within you, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he held you in place. The heat of his release filled you, spreading warmth throughout your core. He shuddered against you, his breaths ragged and heavy as he emptied himself inside you.

You gasped at the sensation, the fullness and warmth of his cum making you feel complete. His thrusts slowed but continued, each movement pushing his release deeper, mingling with your own.

“Fuck, I love this,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe and satisfaction, “Feeling you take all of me…”

You tightened around him in response, eliciting another groan from his lips. “I love it too.” you whispered, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm.

He finally stilled, his head resting against your shoulder, both of you panting and spent. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you both basked in the afterglow, the heat long forgotten.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both too spent to do anything but hold each other. Finally, Alex pulled back slightly, his breath still coming in heavy pants. He pulled you back against his chest and held you tightly, heaving with each breath, his lips pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck and shoulder.

“You’re incredible.” he murmured.

You smiled, leaning back against him, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. “So are you, Mr. Turner. So are you.”

As the sweat cooled on your skin, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you. The heat was still oppressive, but it didn't seem to matter anymore.

You and Alex sat at opposite ends of the bathtub, facing each other with your legs entangled. The water was almost frigid, sending shivers down your spine. Alex noticed and teased, “Did I not get you hot enough, love?” He smiled that charming smile of his, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You couldn’t help but smile back, taking a moment to admire him. His wet hair curled naturally, especially the little pieces by his ears, making him look endearingly boyish. His clean-shaven face accentuated his puffy lips, giving him a soft, almost innocent appearance. His eyes, always so soft and full of warmth, met yours, and you felt a wave of tenderness wash over you. He was, in fact, soft, like you’d said earlier, you thought. And maybe he knew it too, though he didn't always want to admit it.

“Come here.” he said, beckoning with his hand for you to turn around. “Let me warm you up.”

You moved toward him, and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. He sank a bit lower into the water to make sure you were comfortable. You felt the immediate warmth of his body, and you sighed in contentment. “Muuuuch better.” you murmured as his fingers started to play with your hair.

A comfortable silence enveloped you both. The contrast between the cold water and the warmth of his body created a unique sensation, making you feel both relaxed and completely awake.

After a while, Alex broke the silence, his voice full of affection. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. You are my dream.” He placed a long, hard kiss on the top of your head, making you feel deeply loved, with just that tiny gesture.

You nestled closer to him, feeling his heartbeat against your back, and let the tranquility of the moment wash over you. His hands continued to play with your hair, occasionally trailing down your arms in gentle, soothing strokes. You closed your eyes, feeling completely at peace in his embrace.

“I love you.” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water swooshing.

“I love you too,” he replied, his voice equally soft, “More than you’ll ever know.” He hugged you tighter, his fingers tracing small circles on your skin.

The bathwater slowly lost its chill, your bodies generating enough heat to make it comfortable. You stayed like that for a while, basking in the simplicity and intimacy of the moment, in the feeling of each other, of him. You loved him.

The last day of class felt unbearably tense. Your eyes were glued to Alex, unable to tear your gaze away. You didn’t even realise that you were staring at him the whole time. The months together had built up an intense connection, driving you both restless, but today was somehow worse than ever.

He noticed, stuttering when he caught your glance, or fidgeting with his jacket he insisted on wearing despite the sweltering summer heat.

When the lecture finally ended, a text buzzed in your pocket: “See me right after.” You waited until the room emptied, then approached him.

“What was that?” he demanded, frustration clear in his tone. You had no answer, only the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you. Grabbing his face, you kissed him desperately, your lips crashing into his so quickly he didn’t even have time to respond.

“Mmm…stop…we shouldn’t.” he muttered, breaking the kiss, but his resolve wavered under your gaze.

“But we could.” you whispered, looking up at him through your eyelashes, giving him those eyes you knew he couldn’t resist.

With a conflicted sigh, he said, “Meet me in the bathroom.” and hurriedly packed his things, shoving everything into his bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

As he left, a smirk played on his lips before the door closed behind him. You waited a few moments before following, your heart racing.

Entering the men’s room, you found him leaning against one of the sinks, with that familiar grin reserved just for you. He approached you slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, then kissing you once, softly. Grabbing your hand, he led you into one of the stalls, the door clicking shut behind you.

His lips found yours again, more urgent this time, unable to get enough. Your mind raced, a mix of excitement and fear. The forbidden nature of your relationship made each touch more endearing, every kiss more intense. Alex’s hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer, his need for you palpable. You melted into him, the thrill of being caught making it all the more exciting for both of you.

Slipping your hands under his jacket and up his back, you eventually pushed it off his shoulders. He caught it in his hand before it could fall to the floor, hanging it along with his bag on the hook behind him. That left him in only the tight white vest tucked in his jeans that he was wearing underneath.

His arms looked incredible, muscles taut and defined, each movement highlighting the strength beneath his skin. The vest clung to his back, damp with sweat, making the fabric semi-transparent. As your hands roamed over his body, you felt the heat of his wet skin, the sensation thrilling and intimate.

His lips were soft on yours, and you wanted to feel them forever. He tasted so good, and his tongue on yours felt electric. Alex had that way of kissing that was just perfect, leaving you breathless and craving more.

What began as an intimate yet not-so-intimate makeout session quickly turned into something that should only be done in private. And especially not here.

His leg wrapped around you, causing you to almost lose your balance if it wasn't for him holding you up, his hardness rubbing against the front of your jeans. With your lips still touching, you palmed at his jean-clothed length eagerly. His hand went to grip your neck, softly, not squeezing, just holding you in place. Your only goal was now to ensure he was satisfied.

The stall felt smaller with each passing second, the air thick with the scent of sweat and anticipation. Alex's breath was hot against your skin as he murmured your name, his voice a low, desperate whisper that sent shivers down your spine. You responded with equal fervor, your hands exploring the expanse of his back, tracing the contours of his muscles.

His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, teasing the sensitive skin there before moving higher, pushing the fabric up and over your head. You helped him, lifting your arms. The cool air hit your bare skin, but the heat from his body quickly enveloped you again.

Alex's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his hands moving to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. The sensation made you gasp, arching into his touch. He smiled against your mouth, a mixture of satisfaction and desire.

“Someone could walk in anytime.” he muttered, his lips moving to your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive flesh there. “You know that?”

You could only moan in response, your hands fumbling with the button of his trousers. You needed to feel him, the barrier of clothing becoming unbearable. He seemed to sense your urgency, helping you with the zipper and pushing them down.

The stall was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the rustle of fabric, and the occasional thud as your bodies moved against the partitions. Alex's hands were everywhere. Sliding down your sides, gripping your hips, caressing your back. He pulled you closer, your bare chest pressed against his, the contact sending a jolt of pleasure through you as your nipples brushed against the material of his top.

Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. The knowledge that this strong, composed man was just as affected by you as you were by him was intoxicating.

Driven by the desire to please him, you dropped to your knees, your hands finding the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down. His cock sprang free from its confines, hard and eager, the tip glistening. Without hesitation, you wrapped your hand around it, feeling the heat and firmness in your grasp.

Alex's hands found their way to your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he gently guided you closer. His intentions were clear. He wanted your mouth. But he wasn’t going to straight up ask for it. You leaned forward, taking him into past your lips, savouring the taste of his skin and the salty hint of precum. His grip tightened slightly, a soft groan escaping his lips as you began to move, your tongue swirling around the head before taking him deeper.

The sensation of him filling your mouth was heady, each movement sending shivers of pleasure through him. Alex’s hips began to move in rhythm with your mouth, his breaths coming faster and more ragged. You glanced up, seeing the raw desire in his eyes, knowing that you were the one driving him to this point of ecstasy.

His hands continued to guide you, the gentle pressure urging you on as you bobbed your head, your mouth working him skillfully. The taste of him, the feel of him, the sound of his pleasure, it all combined to create an addiction, one that you never wanted to rid yourself of.

Having your lips around his cock, watching as you took him down your throat, your head bobbing quickly, making sweet sounds around his length. Ugh. You worked at him like a dog in heat. How precious. His pretty little thing. His eyes stayed on you. You were everything he wanted. And you knew it.

Your eyes stayed on him as well, you knew better than to look away. Would be blatant disrespect if you did. He loved making you remember the way his features changed as he got closer, making sure you remembered how his eyes filled with pleasure as he would come down your throat, holding the back of your head as you worked on his throbbing cock.

But then, the sound of the bathroom door creaking open shattered the bubble you were in. Someone was coming in. Alex’s eyes widened, and before panic could take hold, he quickly pulled you off his cock.

With a barely silenced growl, he lifted you slightly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. You could feel the still hard length of him pressing against you, even through the denim of your jeans. The friction was delicious, and you ground against him, seeking more. His hand clamped over your mouth to stifle the sounds of your gasps. He tucked himself back into his trousers, his breaths heavy and erratic, the tension in the stall palpable.

You both remained frozen, hearts pounding in unison as you listened to the intruder's footsteps echoing off the tiles. Each second felt like an eternity, the fear of getting caught suddenly not as exciting as it became too real. You could feel Alex's heart beating wildly through the hand that still gently held your face. He glanced down at you, a mixture of frustration and arousal in his eyes, as he listened intently for any indication that you were alone again.

“You're going to be the death of me,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to catch his breath, “But what a way to go.”

You smiled, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. His hands moved to help you redress, handing you your top and watching as you slipped it back on. He pulled his jacket over his shoulders, the fabric clinging slightly to his damp skin.

Alex exited the stall first, striding confidently past the other doors towards the sinks. There, he saw a fellow colleague washing his hands, glancing up as he approached. Their eyes met, and Alex gave a curt nod, a silent acknowledgment of the shared awkwardness. The colleague's knowing smirk indicated he was well aware of the situation, but neither said a word.

Alex washed his hands, the sound of the running water masking the rapid beating of his heart. He quickly texted you to meet him at the car, the message clear and concise. He had started parking a couple of streets down to avoid suspicion, allowing you to leave together when your schedules aligned without raising any eyebrows.

You stayed in the stall for a moment longer, adjusting your appearance and calming your racing heart. The adrenaline still surged through you, making your fingers tremble slightly as you straightened your clothes and smoothed your hair. Once you felt composed enough, you took a deep breath and stepped out, making your way to the exit as quietly and quickly as possible.

As you walked down the hallway, you couldn’t help but glance around, hyper-aware of every sound and movement. The thrill of the near miss and the thought of seeing Alex again in just a few moments made your pulse quicken. You pushed open the door to the outside, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the heat of your encounter in the bathroom.

Walking briskly, you made your way to the car. You spotted Alex leaning against it, his jacket now draped over his arm. He was smoking a cigarette, the smoke curling up into the darkening sky, dissipating into the twilight. The soft glow of the cigarette illuminated his face, casting shadows that made his features appear even more chiselled. He looked so focused on nothing in particular, lost in his thoughts, the furrow in his brow suggesting the intensity of whatever was running through his mind. You could have probably guessed what that was.

He took one last drag from the cigarette, the ember glowing brighter for a moment before he tossed it to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot. The movement was almost practised, a small, unconscious ritual he performed without thinking.

As he met your gaze, his face softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He opened the car door for you, helping you in before getting in himself.

As he settled into the driver's seat, he turned to you, his hand reaching over to rest on your thigh. “You okay?” he asked, his voice slightly concerned.

You nodded, placing your hand over his. “Yeah. Just…that was close.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb stroking your skin. “Too close. But God, I can’t stay away from you.”

You leaned over, capturing his lips in a kiss that was both reassuring and needy. The car was filled with the quiet hum of the engine and the rapid thumping of your hearts. As the kiss deepened, you felt the tension from the bathroom start to dissolve.

Finally, being the one to break the kiss, Alex started reversing out of his spot. Well, not really his spot technically, but he kind of claimed it as his, parking there almost every time he drove to work.

You watched him, mesmerised by the sight of him reversing the car. His arm was draped casually across the back of your seat, the movement causing the muscles in his arm to flex subtly. The streetlights streaming through the windows highlighted his sharp jawline from all different angles, casting shadows that made his features even more striking.

“You’re so fucking hot.” you said mindlessly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Oh, I know, love.” he replied, smirking as he started driving toward his apartment. He wasn’t full of himself. It wasn’t how that was supposed to sound, you knew that. He’d told you that you helped bring out a less insecure part of him, and you loved that.

“You’re still in trouble though, can’t have that with no consequences.” he joked.

You hit him softly over his thigh, making him jump subconsciously. The sudden movement brought his bothersome erection back to the forefront of his mind, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat, trying to find a position that didn’t put so much pressure on it. You noticed and started rubbing his thigh, trying to ease his discomfort, but likely doing just the opposite.

As the car moved through the city streets, the atmosphere between you was thick with unresolved tension. The sensation of your hand on his thigh, combined with the rhythmic motion of the car, heightened his every feeling. Every touch, every brush of your fingers, seemed to amplify the heat burning inside of him.

Alex's breathing grew heavier, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. You could see the effort it took for him to keep his focus on the road, his need for you evident in the way his eyes occasionally flicked toward you, filled with want and frustration.

The drive felt both endless and too short, the anticipation of what was to come making every second feel like an eternity. You didn’t even know what he meant by ‘consequences’. As you approached his apartment, the tension within the vehicle almost reached a boiling point, what might await you behind closed doors hanging heavily in the air.

In his apartment, Alex hadn't said a word since entering. He slipped off his boots and headed straight to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed. You followed him, and he patted the spot next to him for you to sit. As soon as you sat down, he grabbed you and bent you over his knees, making you gasp at the sudden move.

His hands spread over your ass, grabbing at your flesh a couple of times before undoing your jeans and pushing them down your thighs, leaving you unable to move your legs apart. You looked back at him in anticipation, waiting for his next move. He bent down to kiss you as his hand came down across your cheeks for the first time, your yelp getting lost in his mouth.

His touch alternated between rough and tender, his hands exploring your skin as his lips met yours again and again. The sensation of his hand striking your flesh mixed with the softness of his kisses, the blend of pleasure and sharp pain, was intoxicating.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension in his body evident as he continued to spank you. His hand came down again and again, the sharp sting followed by the soothing caress of his fingers. The sound of each slap echoed in the room, mingling with your muffled gasps and his ragged breathing.

Each strike seemed to bring you closer to a breaking point, the intensity of the moment building with every touch. His other hand held you firmly in place, ensuring you couldn't move away from his lap. The vulnerability and trust between you deepened with every second passing.

Between spanks, he would pause to tease you over your underwear, his fingers brushing lightly over your clothed cunt. Each touch sent shivers through your body, amplifying your need for him. He knew exactly how to keep you on edge, providing just enough stimulation to drive you wild, but never enough to satisfy. The fabric of your underwear felt damp against your skin, a proof to your growing arousal. You were enjoying this.

Alex's teasing fingers moved with agonising slowness, tracing the outline of your lips through the fabric, barely dipping into your folds. Each featherlight touch was a tantalising hint of the pleasure that awaited you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more contact, more pressure, but he held you firmly in place, denying you the release you craved.

“You feel that, right?” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “That's how I felt the whole drive here. Desperate. Needing more. But I couldn't do anything about it. Now it's your turn.”

His words sent a thrill through you, the knowledge that he was controlling your pleasure as skillfully as he did your body only heightening your arousal. You could feel his breath against your ear, hot and uneven.

Alex's fingers continued their maddeningly slow exploration, brushing over your sensitive clit, making your breath hitch. Each touch was maddening, it felt so good, but it was never enough to push you over the edge. He was drawing out your torment, making you feel every second of your need.

“Tell me…” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“I want it…so bad.” you gasped, your voice trembling with need. “Please, Alex, I need you.”

A satisfied hum rumbled in his chest. “Mhm…Just a little longer. I want to see you desperate. I want to see you beg.” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

His words sent another wave of arousal through you, and you felt your body responding, your hips rocking against his hand. The friction of your underwear against your sensitive skin was exquisite torture.

Eventually, he stopped teasing, his hand moving away from your aching core. You whimpered at the loss, but he shushed you gently, his other hand stroking your back soothingly.

“Patience, love.” he murmured. “You know I always give you what you need, just let me play this time.”

With that, he resumed spanking you, each strike harder than the last, the sharp sting a stark contrast to the gentle teasing. Your yelps were muffled, your body trembling with the mix of pain and pleasure. It was getting almost too much to take, but you trusted him completely, knowing he would take care of you.

Finally, he paused, his hand resting on your reddened skin. He bent down to kiss you again, his lips lingering on yours as he whispered, “Was that too much?” the raw emotion and worry in his voice made you melt in his arms, and you shook your head ‘no’, unable to find the words to respond.

Alex helped you sit up, pulling off your jeans all the way, his hands gentle now as he pulled you close. The intensity of the moment lingered, the air between you charged. He guided your hand to his excruciating erection over the tight material of his jeans. You struggled to undo his belt, so he helped you, slipping it off lazily as you worked on the button and zipper.

You pulled his vest out of his pants and he held it up out of the way as you freed his cock from his boxers, stroking it a couple of times. His eyes rolled back at the feeling. He nudged you down, and you dropped to your knees on the floor in front of him. He brushed your cheek with his hand lovingly, petting your hair and making it sit all pretty again.

Having you in front of him stirred something deep inside Alex. All the emotions still took a toll on him sometimes, and now was one of those moments. Did he go too far? Did he even enjoy it, or was it just something he did for no reason? But that didn’t even matter anymore. He needed you. So bad. He guided you to his cock, letting you take him in your mouth and setting the rhythm himself.

You didn’t mind his control, you wanted to make him feel the best. You tried to take him deeper and faster, but you accidentally nicked him with your teeth, making his grip in your hair tighten.

“That’s it, darling…” he muttered. “That’s it…do it again.”

Hearing that, you decided to scrape your teeth along his cock and see how he liked that. His hand fell from your head, and he leaned back on his arms, gripping the sheets instead.

“Uhhh, fuck- fuck, yeah. Again. I like the pain...” he said, his voice filled with raw need.

You obeyed, your teeth grazing his sensitive flesh as you moved. Each scrape elicited a shudder from him, his hips bucking involuntarily. His grip on the sheets tightened, knuckles turning white. The mixture of pleasure and pain was driving him wild too, and you could see it in the way his body reacted, the way his breath hitched, and his muscles tensed.

“You’re so good at this.” he breathed, his voice low and strained. His free hand tangled in your hair, not guiding you this time, but simply holding on as if grounding himself in the overwhelming sensation.

You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, the tip of his cock brushing the back of your throat. His eyes rolled back, a guttural moan escaping his lips. The praise, the raw desire in his voice, spurred you on, pushing you to take him even further.

Alex’s hips began to move in rhythm with your mouth, shallow thrusts that drove him deeper into your throat. You could feel him throbbing, the tension coiling in his muscles as he neared his release. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one laced with the sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” he groaned, his grip in your hair tightening as he held you in place. “Don’t stop…please, don’t stop.”

You had no intention of stopping, not when he was this close, not when you could feel his pleasure building, the climax just within reach. You wanted to be the one to push him over the edge. The only one to cause him so much pleasure that his mind shut down.

He came unexpectedly in between desperate thrusts, hot and pulsing in your mouth. You swallowed around him, taking everything he had to give, feeling his body shudder with the force of his orgasm. His moans filled the room, a melody of satisfaction that echoed in your ears.

As his glow subsided, he slumped back, pulling you up onto the bed beside him. He looked at you with his soft eyes that you still couldn’t believe were real.

“I’m not done with you yet.” he whispered, his voice hoarse from the intensity of the moment. He pulled you into his arms, turning you over so you were on your back under him.

He pushed your top up, exposing your breasts but not bothering to take it off. He just wanted to touch and see and feel them as he wished. Grabbing both your legs together, he bent them up, urging you to hold them in place. His hips began to thrust, his cock brushing over your underwear as he got rock hard again. The friction was exquisite, and you swore you couldn’t take it much longer, but he shushed you gently.

He pushed your panties to the side and rubbed his length over your wet pussy, wedging it between your folds. Each thrust brushed against your clit, eliciting countless soft moans from you. Occasionally, he would slap your clit with his cock, making your whole body twitch with the sensation. He went so far as to wrap the flimsy material of your panties around his hard length and thrusting into them, teasing you to no end. Seeing him and feeling him so close but not actually inside you was infuriating.

Your legs eventually grew tired in that position, and you were almost tired of his teasing as well. You rested them on his tummy, still keeping them up as he wanted. He liked that. He really liked that. He held them in place with one hand, massaging up your legs in time with his movements.

His fingers brushed over your clit, circling it with the same rhythm he had set with his thrusts. Your body arched into his touch, your breath hitching as the pleasure mounted. He leaned down, bending your body almost to a breaking point, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue in your mouth mimicking the movements of his fingers on your pussy.

“You're so beautiful like this,” he murmured against your lips, “I could watch you all day.”

You moaned into his mouth, your hips bucking against his hand. The teasing was driving you wild, the need for release becoming unbearable. You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, every nerve ending on fire.

“Please, Alex.” you whimpered, your voice barely more than a breath. “I need you, please.”

He smiled, his eyes dark with desire. His fingers continued their teasing dance, bringing you to the brink only to pull back just enough to keep you teetering on the edge. It was sweet torture.

Finally, when you thought you couldn't take it any longer, he pushed his cock into you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and relief. You cried out, your hands clutching at the sheets as he set a steady rhythm, each thrust sending you higher and higher.

He watched you in awe and satisfaction, his eyes never leaving your face. The connection between you was electric. You were his, and he was yours, in that perfect moment of your bodies connecting, both physically and emotionally.

As he moved inside you, his pace quickened, the urgency building once more. The room was filled with the sounds of him sliding in and out, the wet slap of skin on skin, the gasps and moans of pleasure. It was raw, it was primal, and it was everything you needed.

Your orgasm came crashing over you with a force that left you breathless. Your body convulsed around him, your cries of ecstasy mingling with his as he felt you tightening around him. With a gentle but firm motion, he pulled out, only to flip you around.

“You’re doing so good.” he whispered, his voice filled with genuine encouragement. He positioned you on your knees, and you struggled to hold yourself up on your arms, but you wanted to be able to see him.

You watched him as he wiped the sweat off his face with his arm before giving you a quick slap on your ass, the sting from earlier resurfacing. He continued teasing you, or more so teasing himself, rubbing his cock right at your entrance but not quite pushing in. His hand planted on the small of your back, guiding you back towards him but not pushing in, only the head occasionally slipping past your lips in the wet mess pooling there.

And he loved it. The sound of his continuous moaning, intertwined with your weak whimpers, let you know just how much he loved it. Finally, he pulled you by the hips, pushing in all the way, feeling even deeper in this position. He started so gently, his hand on your back keeping you grounded while the other rested back on his hip. He kept that pace for a while, but the need for release took over.

He quickly pulled his top over his head, the need for skin to skin contact overpowering him, and he slid his jeans lower, pushing his boxers down with them.

He moved with an intensity that matched his desire, each thrust more powerful than the last. His hands roamed your body, one sliding up to grip your shoulder for leverage, the other moving down to tease your clit. The combination of sensations was so overpowering, your body trembling with pleasure and overstimulation. He whispered words of encouragement and praise, his voice hoarse with need.

As his thrusts grew more frantic, the room filled with the sounds of your shared moans. His breathing became ragged, his movements more desperate as he chased his own release. You felt him tense, his grip on you tightening as he finally came again, spilling into you with a shuddering groan. The intensity of his orgasm triggered your own, your body pulsing around him as you cried out.

Spent and breathless, he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. The sounds of your heavy breathing seemed so loud in the room. He held you close, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as you both basked in the afterglow.

He looked down at you, concern flickering in his eyes. “Was I too rough?” he asked softly, the question hanging in the air. You could see the beginnings of doubt starting to cloud his features, and you knew he was already overthinking it. He often did that, and he only recently started to realise that it would be better to just ask than to torture himself with doubts and fears. He didn’t need to do that. Not with you.

You shook your head and gave him a reassuring smile. “I loved it,” you said sincerely, “But you don’t have to be like that all the time if you don’t want to. Just be yourself, whatever that might be.”

He sighed, relief mingling with lingering uncertainty. “I did like it,” he admitted, “but I felt a bit...out of character. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You shook your head again, squeezing his hand. “You didn’t hurt me. You were amazing. It’s interesting to see different sides of yours.” you assured him, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

He nodded, his fingers continuing their gentle caress on your skin. “I just want to make sure I’m giving you what you need.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And you are.” you replied firmly. “Always.”

He smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing as he pulled you closer. The rawness of the moment softened into something tender.

a/n: this one’s supposed to be set a good few months into them being together so he’s comfortable with himself and everything bla bla bla my friend said that first scene is the best thing i wrote so i really like it now🥺 also, i uploaded this whole fic to wattpad as well in case anyone prefers reading there, my user is the same as here. oh and, the title is from ‘Music To Watch Boys To’ by Lana, they’re always from songs so i thought i’d mention it :)

tags: @4chaos @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @ohladymoon @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @menace-to-the-devil @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @feyasgotgroove @aacheinthejaw @hellcatshalalalaa @zayndrider @humbuginmybones

[lunarw0rks]

professor!price 🫦…you gotta write something about this now that you’ve mentioned it omg I’m a sucker for prof!price gosh

anyway I love your work/writings !! they’re freaking amazing💆🏻‍♀️

a/n: this was supposed to be a full fic, but i physically could not finish it for months. but rather than deleting all this work entirely, i decided i would release what i had! just to give you guys something. i hope these mere crumbs are sufficient as a kind of soft launch back into this blog...

─── ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ PRICE MASTERLIST ꒦꒷

PROFESSOR!PRICE

synopsis: you catch the eye of your supportive, but firm literature professor. warning(s): SFW, BUT 18+ MDNI, professor/student dynamics, hint of dom!price, fem!reader, no use of y/n, not edited

Just your luck, being late on the first day of the semester.

It truly wasn't your fault. Your schedule was in shambles, and you had the administration to thank for that. Not to mention, your literature course was in an entirely different building; one you had yet to step foot in earlier in the year.

It was like starting kindergarten; eyes wide with nerves, knees trembling, searching for the correct classroom with a crumbled schedule in your hands.

Only today, those hands were grown and holding your phone screen, examining the digital schedule you'd been sent after the ordeal at the scheduling office. Still, that same troubled look in your eyes, no matter how far you'd advanced into adulthood.

But it wasn't a colorful large print displaying the three-digit class number like it had been when you were small.

It was a bland monospace font displaying your next stop;

┃ Classic Literature - Prof. John Price, Rm 1026

You were late by a few minutes, not an entirely catastrophic start to your first day, was it?

Internally, you were crossing your fingers that this professor wouldn’t be a complete hardass. That would be the taunting cherry on top of an already stressful mid-morning.

From behind the door, you could hear the gentle drone of what you assumed to be the professor's voice.

Gruff and sophisticated — that much you could tell before walking in.

"The syllabus is available—" his introductory speech interrupted when you opened the door slowly, causing an echo through the classroom when the hinges ground. His eyes met yours, staying on you as you shuffled along, for too long.

He broke himself out quickly, continuing on, "—available online or on the table beside the door. Paper or digital, it's your decision. Study it, learn it, and follow it."

Your new professor is intensely intimidating, despite not being outwardly threatening. Perhaps it was his aplomb when he spoke to the class, or maybe it was the gaze bordering on a glare he gave you.

Following, you made even more of an effort to blend in with the rest of the class. To sink lower into your seat, keep any and all attention on him, as if to undo the unfortunate first impression.

It was hard to focus, and not because of his teaching.

The following week, you made your best attempts to keep up. He wasn't assigning too much work or especially rude to the students. His gentle intimidation made it troublesome, despite not speaking one word to you yet.

There you were again.

Watching intently as he spoke in that soothing voice. White button down, or sometimes gray, exposing just a bit of his chest. Wispy dirty blonde hairs, just barely poking through, more so when he'd lean down to change his presentation slides.

Shit. He'd announced a test you had spaced completely, when you were too occupied with your other courses.

He reaches into a folder and holds it up. "This assessment is on paper. I want you all to do your very best; think back to the material we read in Chapter twenty-three."

23? What material? You were completely fucked, with not even a half-chance at earning a grade passing on this. You hear the rustling of paper, and then see all your seatmates passing the packets. With a widened expression, you shuffle the stack to the next person over, finally taking a gander at the paper below you.

Minutes passed, spent either chewing on your pencil or doing your best at bullshitting answer; analyzing a literature piece you hadn’t read a word of. He knew it, too. A sharp gaze whenever you’d happen to look up, jolting you back into fake focus.

This was bad, and you were running out of ways to define the feeling.

You weren’t even sure fucked would suffice.

Twenty-three percent — etched on the top of the exam. Surely, the only reason there was any sum at all was because you spelled your name correctly and scribbled the date.

It might as well have been a zero.

Beside the humiliating score, SEE ME was bolded in red ink, as if he’d murdered a sharpie to emphasize his disappointment. Fortunately, you snagged the graded paper exams from a box outside the room, saving you the heat of looking into his eyes.

Now, the real nail-bitter was going in to see him after hours. By no means was he an intimidator, nor callous, but he had power. The authority to tarnish your transcript forever. Whether he would or wouldn’t isn’t important — that scenario is still startling.

At least you had yourself to thank for not being careless in class; those students that huff or mutter curses when addressed directly. He always noticed their snide attitudes, whether they knew it or not.

But you weren’t them; you were attentive and reserved during his lectures, no matter how under stimulating their contents were. Though, the professor had a way of making anything feel profound or educative.

That’s what you told yourself when you knocked on the door. After hours, nothing but a dim light through the frosted glass next to the door. “Come in.” His gruff voice muffled back.

The cold metal fo the doorknob did little to soothe your nerves. Neither did the sight of him — and only him. No other students here to sort out a grade? Not a slacker begging for extra credit? A fellow teacher making boring small talk?

None of the above.

It's only you shuffling inside awkwardly and him at his desk. A small reading lamp illuminated only his workspace and not much more, leaving the rest of the lecture hall pitch black. He's writing fast with a fancy pen, one that's surely worth a pretty penny. When you've failed to make the first move, he glances up with a scowl.

Price curls his finger into a 'come here' motion, earning a gulp from you. You'd swear that bricks were tied to your ankles, and it was any wonder you didn't stumble the closer you got.

As if failing an exam wasn't humiliating enough; now you were alone with the stern professor behind the mark.

You trekked closer to the large desk, peering at the copy of your failed exam he brought forward. As if you needed another reminder. He brought out a felt tip pen as red as blood.

“Want you to be honest with me, save us the grief. Did you study for this exam?” Price asked, followed by an stone expression.

For a moment, you thought about lying. Muttering some pathetic yes and hoping for the best. Until you kept looking at him, how his stillness made you gulp and rethink.

“No, sir.” You sigh, suddenly having a parched throat.

For a moment, he went still — as firm as the glances he always through your way. When you were tempted to wave a hand in his face, he composed himself again, straightening and adjusting himself in his desk chair.

As if ignoring you, he resumed grading the assignments neatly stacked in front of him. Every glide of the crimson tip against the milky paper struck a nerve in you. You leaned on a hip in impatience, clearing your throat softly to regain his attention. After all — he was the one who called you here, wasn’t he? And now he’s treating you like you’ve faded out of existence.

You balled your fists, digging your nails into your palms to gather courage.

“Is there something I can do about this score? Or have you called me in here for no reason? Sir?” You’ll be the first to admit that the words came out brattier than intended.

But, to you, they were justified. And you most definitely didn’t want to spend the rest of the semester despising one of your professors.

His head raised slowly, placing the pen down at a slow speed. Leaning back with his legs spread, his hand dropped to his inner thigh. “Adding Sir won’t make this any easier on me you, darling.”

You got the attention you wanted. But not in the way you expected. At all.

As if breaking a record for speed, you were flush and shifting around awkwardly, unable to spit out a rebuttal. Who could? Especially when your opponent had the power to frame an expulsion, or flunk you purposefully. However, Professor Price wasn’t the malicious type — and that made this so much worse.

It was all genuine. Those glances, the stern tone, his want — no, need — to want better for you. Even if the methods were the definition of questionable.

“Don’t act meek around me. What is it you’re trying to say?” He inquired nonchalantly, blinking as he waited patiently for you to catch your breath. But you never did; you remained utterly stunned.

After what seemed like forever, but was really only a few seconds, John realized that this meet was going nowhere. Clearly, being direct was the only way to get through to someone as clueless as you.

His tone is firmer whilst assuming a lower volume — as if afraid someone would hear. But he wasn't. If there was the slightest chance of getting caught, he would've directed you to an extra credit sheet and sent you on your way.

Price curled his fingers. "C'mere."

⊹。°˖➴ SECOND NOTE: should i release more of my forgotten WIPs? | divider cred. - cafekitsune ༉‧₊˚.

[that-ari-blogger]

An Interesting Character

Usually, when character is brought up in discussion, it is in reference to the people. If you think of the characters of The Owl House for example, you probably think of Luz, Eda, Bellos, Hunter, and Principal Bump.

But, by pure mechanics, a character is just a force at work in a story. One with personality, and agency, sure, but it's just a force.

This means that, if you squint a little, the Boiling Isles itself is a character, and the Wild Magic is an extension of that. It certainly gets treated like a character by the story, especially in Adventures In Elements.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Before I start, let me give one attempt to argue with the pedants. By definition, a character is a person. So, hear me out, the Boiling Isles is literally the body of a titan, who actively talks to Luz later on in the series. That is my justification.

So... why is wild magic a thing?

I'm not asking for an in-universe answer, because that is multifaceted and not really the point. I'm asking why the writers decided to include this idea, and what effect it has on the story?

The phrase "magic is..." is used four times in this episode. Once by Eda, and thrice in quick succession by Luz. And it is worth taking a look at these statements.

"I know my lessons seem weird, but this is what wild magic is all about! Making a connection with nature. The earliest witches understood that. Human witches need to understand it, too. You wanna learn a second spell? ... Then you have to learn from the island."

There is a lot going on with Eda's guidance. First up is the small detail about the tense. The earliest witches knew that magic is about nature, implying now it is different. But mainly, this is an explanation of the nitty gritty of The Owl House's magic system. It's about two things, nature and connection. And I want to delve into that a little bit.

There is something fascinating about Bellos and his roots in witch-hunting. Because that was specifically defined by an opposition to things, rather than any actual views of its own.

Malleus Maleficarum, the book that kicked off the witch-hunts is a fascinating read, as long as you understand what it is that you are reading and don't use it as a set of instructions. Internet Archive has a translated version by Prof. Christopher S. Mackay, complete with commentary from latter authors that I highly recommend.

This single book caused a ton of harm to people, and you can examine it from almost any angle you like. The original was written by a terrible person with terrible intentions, and I also recommend Overly Sarcastic Productions' video on Werewolves for more information on that section of history.

What I want to focus on is the vernacular. References "devils" about 400 times and namedrops "witches" with similar regularity. The word "demon" comes up over 1000 times, and the word "pagan" comes up about 40 times. Specifically in reference to "pagan nations" which is about as racist as it sounds, as well as a ton of using the word as a catch all insult ("x type of person is worse than a pagan", etc. etc.). I don't want to get into the theology and history of this word, because it's a complicated minefield. But in this context, specifically around Europe in this time period, it means just about all regional faiths and mythologies. Celtic, Norse, Germanic, and several others.

Fun fact about me, I am Welsh, which means is that I have a connection to Welsh mythology, and so my analysis of wild magic is through that lens. If you have an understanding of other similar cultures, let me know, I'm fascinated to learn how that affects the reading of the Owl House.

Now, Modern Druidism is a living religion that I am not well versed in and want to treat with the respect befitting any living faith. So, I am sticking to what I know about the history and mythology and trying to make the differentiation between those two and Modern Druidism clear.

So, Druids in Celtic mythology are religious leaders, and peacekeepers. But what is possibly the most famous thing about them is their connection to nature. And here is where the analysis of The Owl House comes into play. Because the Owl House takes great care to associate magic with the natural, and Bellos with the unnatural.

"It means magic is a gift from the island. It means magic is everywhere. Magic is everywhere!"

Bellos creates artificial magic through his artificial staff and the destruction of the Palismen to fuel his life. Hunter wields an artificial staff, and in Adventures In Elements, Amity trains with an artificial training wand, which is linked to Bellos through the coven system.

But you would think that Luz's runes would also count as artificial. So what gives?

This episode shows them as part of nature more than the more refined spell circles. Luz's magic is that connection to the island in its purest, rawest form, and as I have said before, Luz's greatest strength is her ability to connect.

The dynamic between Wild Magic and Coven Magic isn't a dynamic between the artificial and the natural, it's a dynamic between empathy and utilitarianism. Wild Magic borrows, or is gifted, Coven magic takes and uses for its own ends. They are similar concepts, but it's in the minutia that the meaning comes out.

Final Thoughts

There is one final thing that Wild Magic reminds me of, and its off on a limb a bit. I currently live in Australia, and while Aboriginal spirituality is varied and complex and not my story to tell, I have been gifted this piece of advice that I would like to share: Humans don't own the land, we are a part of it, just as the trees and the beasts and the storms and the fires. Humans are mere custodians, our duty is to watch over and protect, and to connect.

I thought that was relevant.

I am away next week, but I'll be back in the new year with some analysis of The First Day, so stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

[communistkenobi]

would you be at all willing to talk about your experience of undergrad vs grad school? personally i struggled quite a bit in undergrad but am still always tempted to go back, and i think maybe the narrowed focus of grad school would be a little easier to handle, but i'm not sure if that would actually be the case... & perhaps your experience was something else completely and maybe this is too vague also lol, but i'm very curious about how you felt they were different!

yeah totally! My experience is doing graduate degrees (writing a thesis) in the faculty of social science in Canadian universities, so everything I’m about to say comes from that specific context. Definitely not universal lol

in my experience grad school is a lot more customised than undergrad. You still have required courses, non-course degree milestones (usually you’re required to present your work at conferences, which can get expensive and isn’t always covered by your department, as well as produce summaries of work you’ve done, research proposals, scholarship applications, etc), and standardised expectations, but you have a lot more choice in the courses you take and what topics you focus on. One university I was at was very relaxed about deadlines in grad school (I easily got extensions from profs without needing doctors notes or official accommodations, i was given the ability to redo assignments, etc), and the other was the ecact opposite (treated me like a idiot for needing extra time with work). If you’re doing a thesis project, a lot of your degree is independent work that you do in your own time - this was a huge struggle for me at the end of my masters, and I had to do “martial law” with my graduate friends at the very end, which basically meant us instituting a highly regimented schedule together made up of work sessions and breaks where we would each meet up and work on finishing our thesis (1 hour of work then 15 min break, rince and repeat, do this for four or five sessions a day every day). You are on a time crunch as you only receive funding for so many years, if you get offered funding at all.

your supervisor has a lot of control and influence over you - they are meant to guide you through the research process, develop your project, give you feedback, provide you with appropriate literature, double check your work, and help you get grants / funding. If you get a bad one it can legitimately ruin your life. I have had hilariously bad luck with supervisors (I’ve had to switch supervisors twice due to discrimination and breaches of provincial human rights law - which is not the norm to my understanding lol).

it depends on why you want to go to grad school and what you plan to do after. I want to stay in academia so that’s where most of my advice comes from. Tenure-track positions are incredibly difficult to secure and if you’re serious about staying in the academy you should be publishing your research while you’re still in graduate school, and treat every term paper as a draft of something you’re going to publish. I also have backup jobs I know I can apply for outside of academia if I don’t get any academic offers.

it’s relatively common for students to join a two or four year grad program but take way more time than that to finish. Usually if you get any funding packages, they only cover the official allotted years (in my experience, two for a master’s, four for PhD), meaning that if you need extra time, you could be finishing your degree with no funding and no guaranteed employment. If your supervisor is cool/connected they might have money they can swing your way, but it’s a tenuous and scary way to live if you have no other source of income.

funding usually comes from 1) grants your department gives you (they will tell you if they’re giving you money on your acceptance letter), 2) teaching assistant positions (I was/am required to be a TA, which usually involves grading undergraduate work, running labs, or leading teaching sessions/“tutorials”) and 3) federal scholarships that you are required to apply for. You need to write applications for these scholarships, usually including a research proposal, a CV/resume, a transcript of your grades, and recently, they’ve added a requirement for a diversity statement explaining any minority statuses you have and how that affects your education. TA work has an uneven workload from week to week, and usually most of the work is towards the end of the term when you’re grading final essays/exams, which creates crunch periods where you’re both working on your own coursework and grading undergrad work.

again a lot of this might not apply to your particular discipline or university or country. Usually universities list a lot of this info on their website, which can help you figure out what’s required of you. Grad school is structured like a full time job and it doesn’t pay very well even if you are funded. I lived with my parents for most of my master’s which gave me the financial stability to complete it. It’s not easy and it takes up most of your waking time, and it can leave you in a financially precarious position with a lot of debt. It’s definitely not something I would recommend for fun unless you have a lot of money and time to burn

[ukrfeminism]

Westminster city council and Social Work England last week became the latest to join a list of organisations – including Arts Council England, a barristers’ chambers and a thinktank – found to have discriminated against a female worker because of their gender-critical beliefs.

The social worker Rachel Meade’s winagainst the council and her profession’s regulator means she joins a select but growing group of gender-critical feminists who have successfully brought discrimination claims on the basis of their beliefs.

Gender-critical feminists believe sex is biological and cannot be changed, and disagree with trans rights activists who say gender identity should be given priority in terms of law-making and policy. Clashes in workplaces – in some cases with those who regard the focus on biological sex as transphobic – have led to a string of employment tribunals.

On Monday, a tribunal began hearing a constructive dismissal claim from Roz Adams against Edinburgh Rape Crisis Centre. Next month, Kenny McBride’s case against the Scottish government is due to be heard in Glasgow, while judgments are pending in a claim from Prof Jo Phoenix against the Open University and that of the Green party’s former deputy leader Shahrar Ali against the party.

In all four cases – and more in the pipeline – the claimants argue they were discriminated against because they hold gender-critical beliefs.

They hope to follow in the footsteps of the barrister Allison Bailey, and of the researcher Maya Forstater who obtained a landmark judgment in 2021 that her gender-critical beliefs were a protected philosophical belief under the Equality Act. The campaign group Sex Matters, founded by Forstater, has identified at least 19 current cases.

After the Meade case last week, which like several others involved disciplinary action being initiated against an employee as a result of social media postings, Westminster council said it would “consider what changes we need to make”. For the local authority it comes too late to prevent a payout, but other employers may need to learn from it.

Lucy Lewis, a partner at the law firm Lewis Silkin, said that on such a politically charged issue, employers could feel they must act quickly after a complaint.

“Because this has become a politically toxic issue, there’s a sort of temptation [on the part of employers] to take a kneejerk reaction rather than the considered view of actually, what is the impact, is there another way we can address this [other than disciplinary proceedings or suspension]?

“People are being influenced by the very public and political dialogue on this and actually there’s value in just taking a step back and understanding all the factors.”

Georgina Calvert-Lee, an employment and equality barrister at Bellevue Law, agreed that the wider debate – in which gender-critical feminists and advocates of transgender rights have been at loggerheads – may have influenced employers, but said they must adjust their behaviour in light of the case law.

“What Forstater and Bailey have done is they’ve set this very strong precedent of tolerance,” Calvert-Lee said.

“Above all, in a pluralistic society, which is what we want, you have to accept that people are going to have different views and some people are going to find their colleagues’ views completely obnoxious – but nevertheless protected because freedom of speech is something that … has been really promoted and underlined.

“It’s always been there but it’s been sort of forgotten in some of these culture wars.”

After settling a case with a gender-critical volunteer, Katie Alcock, Girlguiding UK said it remained “a home for trans people” but added: “We agree that sex and gender are different, and will reflect this in the language we use.”

After another case that was settled out of court, brought by the student James Esses, who was thrown off his course for expressing gender-critical views, the UK Council for Psychotherapy conceded it was a valid professional belief that children suffering from gender dysphoria should receive counselling rather than medical intervention and people should not be discriminated against for such beliefs. Esses’ case against the Metanoia Institute continues.

Calvert-Lee said the cases to date showed the importance of employers training staff “about what is acceptable and what’s not and what amounts to harassment and what probably doesn’t – the sort of respect they should give to each other”, as well as giving training to those staff investigating complaints.

“Whenever there’s some sort of complaint which involves a belief that’s basically pitted against another belief, they [the investigator] have to be completely neutral,” she said. “It’s not on for the investigator to come to it very overtly with their own value judgment.”

The tribunals have made clear that it is not a free-for-all but a balancing exercise. For instance, David Mackereth – an outlier in that he lost his case based on gender-critical beliefs – was found to have crossed the line by misgendering service users at the Department for Work and Pensions, making its decision to dismiss him reasonable.

Calvert-Lee believes the recent increase in cases will ultimately be a blip rather than a growing trend, as workplaces become more aware of the need to handle complaints and concerns more carefully.

The events that led to Meade’s claim came “just weeks before the Forstater employment appeal tribunal decision was given”, she said, and the results of the Forstater and Bailey cases would mean “employers will have training, and so they’re likely to fall off, you’re likely to have fewer cases”.

Lewis said there would always be “bad eggs” but compared the situation to legal cases on manifestations of religious belief at work, such as wearing a cross.

“You have a flurry of cases and people that aren’t lawyers … wonder why those cases go away,” she said. “In a common law system like ours, you have cases that set out some of the principles employment tribunals need to consider and then really good organisations like the CIPD [Chartered Institute of Personnel and Development] take all that reasoning, they give advice and training to employers and then employers are clear about what they need to do, how they should manage this kind of conflict in the workplace.”

She added that the media attention afforded to gender-critical cases perhaps suggested that they were more common than they really were. In fact, she suggested there were likely to be a greater number of claims brought by transgender people alleging harm, though many go unreported.

“The overwhelming majority of employers are not setting out to discriminate; they’re not just thinking ‘well all people with gender-critical views are bad, so we’re just going to get rid of them’,” said Lewis.

“They just have got strong alternative views in the workplace and they haven’t known how to navigate through that conflict.”

[kay9leo]

#MCtober2024 - Week 2

Based on @lamieboo's #MCtober2024 event (click on #MCtober for more info).

What are your MC / OC study habits?

Iñaki has a few methods of studying as you can see above. She usually doesn't like to review in groups (unless its with trusted friends) until she feels comfortable with the material on her own where she knows what she doesn't know and can bring it up to the review session. While on her own, she'll either will use flash cards, rewrite notes or teach Uturunku (her jaguar plushie) in her shared dorm room. Eventually Imelda joins in on her teaching session with Uturunku since the two girls are in the same class and share the same dorm. Once she gets more comfortable with Sebastian and Ominis as friends, you would often find Iñaki in Undercroft studying with the two boys especially when Midterm Season hits and the library is packed. She would usually be sitting on cargo crate box reviewing her flash cards or notes, waiting for the boys to show up. She also like doing reviews on charms, spells and dueling techniques with Sebastian by physically practicing them in the Undercroft.

Her other known study locations is her dorm room or the Slytherin Common Room with Sebastian when burning the midnight oil, the Room of Requirements (not often since it's out of her way) and the Great Hall with her friends who are in the other houses. She also likes white noise the noisy Great Hall provides. Iñaki vs History of Magic

Iñaki hates Professor Binns. She thinks he's the most boring-est person in the planet with how monologuist, plain and calming his voice is and hates how he can knock her to sleep. It is her goal to actually sit through class and stay up completely for once and take notes, but she can't. She always knocks out if she's trying to focus and ends up becoming Ominis' pillow once the two are friends.

At least Ominis is kind enough to share his notes with her as he takes them with a bespelled diction quill that he'll later transfigure the notes into braille. Eventually Iñaki gets her own diction quill like everyone else in class does.

After a couple of classes with Prof. Binns, Iñaki will eventually accept that she's either going to nap in this class period or try to get ahead and do homework from her other classes with her enhanced earbud on to listen to music while her diction quill does the work of taking notes down.

Iñaki's Girl Crew

Iñaki becomes especially close to Natty, Poppy and Imelda for different reasons:

Natty is the first friend Iñaki made while at Hogwarts. She and Natty bond over living in a foreign country far from their homelands and learning to live in a different world. Natty's friendship is important to Iñaki because she is one of the few people who really gets what Iñaki is going through and the same is true vice versa. It isn't surprising to see one going to the other to have a good cry over missing their homeland. Natty also was the one who helped her finish her animagus training in secret and saw her transform into a jaguar for the first time. At one point, the two would go running in the Forbidden Forest in their animagus form, baffling any locals as to where a gazelle and a giant cat came from. Natty is also the first person Iñaki says is her friend.

Poppy's friendship with Iñaki began after defending the kneazle in class. After they partnered up in Beasts class that same day, the rest became history. Poppy enjoys Iñaki's frank and playful nature and Iñaki's enjoyed Poppy's bluntness and kindness (it reminds her of home). The two girls end up bonding over being oddballs, caring for beasts and going over the different magical beasts and their tales around the world. Poppy especially loves it when Iñaki tells her stories about the magical beasts native to the Americas that you wouldn't be able to find in Europe and ends up making it a goal to see the thunderbird that lives near Niagara Falls one day.

Imelda Reyes at first is Iñaki's roommate. For about five minutes until Iñaki grumbles in Spanish "¡Ay!¡Por el amor de Dios! after stubbing her toe against her misplaced suitcase as she was moving in a week later after arriving at Hogwarts. Imelda was surprised to learn that the American spoke Spanish. Iñaki didn't realize Imelda was Spanish (Imelda holds duel Scottish-Spanish citizenship) and spoke Spanish as well. They became friends like a house on fire due to their Hispanic heritage (Iñaki's family is originally from Latin America who immigrated to the US. Imelda's father was the one who moved their family to the UK when he went play on Puddlemere United to be close with them). They only speak Spanish to each other as it makes them feel at home as they both miss speaking it while at Hogwarts (There's very few Spanish speakers there). The two spend a lot of time talking about their Hispanic Heritage while comparing and contrasting the differences in the cultures (Iñaki' is bicultural as her Latino roots hails from two different countries) and the Spanish language as well.

When Imelda found out that Iñaki has family in South America (but didn't realize Iñaki was a first generation/muggleborn witch) she immediately assumed Iñaki was good at quidditch due to the sport culture in that continent (quidditch is essentially the magical equivalent to soccer/fútbol) and tricked her into trying out for the team in having Iñaki play in pick-up quidditch games since it didn't seem like she wasn't going to try out because she seemed nervous about it (in Imelda's eyes). The moment Iñaki realized what Imelda was doing, she calls Imelda out and the two end up having a frank discussion as to why Iñaki didn't play quidditch (American racism is the reason why - Iñaki didn't want to play into the stereotypes and found she couldn't really enjoy playing the sport back in New York) despite being good at it (Iñaki played with her first-generation/muggleborn mage cousins on both sides of the famiy as a kid and picked up the sport pretty fast). In the end Imelda helps Iñaki get over her prior reservations on playing the sport but not enough for Iñaki to play as a starter. Iñaki ends up playing as the reserve chaser though and ends up as a starter in sixth year during her last year at Hogwarts.

The four girls accidently become a friend group through a class project. Iñaki had them all meet at the Three Broomsticks to discuss what they would be doing and it spiraled to the four girls realizing they were outsiders in different ways as they talked about their lives and bonded over feeling like a fish out of water at times with their peers. They ended up making outing to the Three Broomsticks for lunch to be a weekly thing after their class project was done as all four became close friends with each other.

...

More on Iñaki "MC" Martinez Cariaga

[natsaffection]

Hello baby, are u good? i saw someone requestin “prof nat x student reader” and i LOVE IT. For real, pls do it.

BUT i also love prof nat x prof reader, could you pls do that too? Like they both teach diferent languages in the same school and nat is super rough and feared by the students, and r is the cool teacher everyone loves, so they keep flirting at work and its cute and funny??

I would really love to see that please my love 🫶

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A/n: Okay, so first of all, HELLOUUU IM SORRY FOR NOT POSTING ANYTHINGG 🏃🏻‍♀️ Second. I’m blushing, blushing and blushing. Too many “pet”names in this request, urgh 🫣🥸

Also, it was fun to write something in my first language, soo🌚 Have funnnn

warnings: a little anxious student, flirting, mention of oral

Word count: 1045

pairing: Teacher!Natasha x Teacher!Reader

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It was fifth period today and everything went according to plan. You were well on time and the students were doing perfectly as well. That's what convinced you to become a teacher. To give your knowledge to the next generation and do something good. 

You used to hate school, though. But later you found out that it was simply because of the teachers. What's the point of yelling at students and giving them bad grades if they have a bad day? After all, they are not machines, they are human beings...

And that's what brought you forward. You wanted to be a great role model to your students. A person to talk to when things went wrong in life. And they could do that with you. Your students were grateful that they had you in this particular subject. 

German. 

Many have the mindset that it is one of the most difficult languages in the world. For you, it was relatively okay to speak and especially to learn. You had good prospects.

It was near the end of class when you noticed a student of yours couldn't stop wiggling her legs under the table. You panicked that it was your stuff and saved for yourself to talk to the person about it at the end, and when the time came, you did,

"Hey Sarah, do you have a minute?" The girl stopped and looked frantically at the clock hanging on the wall. "S-Shure!" She walked up, and you addressed it, "So..is something too heavy for you?" The girl could barely hold focus as she kept looking at her watch, "It's not really! I Just..I.." You notice, "Am I keeping you up? Are you about to write a exam?" The girl became more nervous, "N-No..I just have to go, you know?" She said quickly,

"What class do you have now?"

"Russian..." Ah, there it is. It was generally a mystery to you why you would pack two languages after each other. But it wasn't that. You knew who the person teaching Russian was, and you had a suspicion.

"Is it because Ms. Romanoff has the class?" You see an eye movement, "Yes..."

"Does she scare you?" She looks down, "Not scared, just...She's so strict...The complete opposite part of you..." You continue to look at her and realize she's not the first to say that about Natasha. However, you couldn't understand it since you only know her soft and caring.

"I'm sure things will be different today, really." Heh, and you know why too..

"Really?" You notice how her demeanor got better, and she stands up straight, "Yes and now let's go, it's almost time after all." The girl smiled and headed off, "Thanks Y/n!"

You sat down, appeased and went through the next few hours. When you were done and the end of the day knocked on the door, you make your way to your colleague. The bell rang for the end of class and you walked in. You immediately noticed the change in atmosphere,

"And don't forget the homework until next week, I don't want to have to tell you everything again, so do it thoroughly!"

Okay wow..you knew Natasha could get a little stubborn sometimes, but like this? You stopped at the door and saw the expressions on the students' faces. Most of them had their eyes on the floor as they walked past Natasha. Then, when everyone was outside, you close the door and Natasha looked to you, "Oh, hey Kotenok, How long have you been here?" You cross your arms and lean against the door frame, "A while..What was today's topic?" Natasha sits down at her table, "General debate...Only some get it right, the others don't." You hear that she was annoyed by this, "I just don't get it! Why do people sign up for classes and do nothing?"

You drop your arms and go to her, "Maybe it's not them but you..." Any other person would be headless right now, "Oh yeah, and why do you think that Detka, hmm?" You sit down on her lap, "I don't know, you think I'm great..." Natasha looked up at you, "You can only think you're great too..."

"Ha..ha, stop it. Now let's be honest, I had a conversation with a student of yours earlier and she was totally intimidated by you!" Natasha sat back, "Sarah, right? So that's why she was late. I think, Ms. L/n, you're a bad role model." That made you laugh,

"Me? A bad role model? Who doesn't want to tell the kids about the stuff a second time?" You look at her table to see what it is in detail, "Перестань смотреть на мою работу, милая.” (stop looking at my work, sweet.)

You look back at her, "Is it weird if I say I think it's hot when you talk to me in Russian? Weil ich kann das auch.” (Because I can do that too) Natasha had to restrain herself from jumping on you right away, "Fuck, that sounds so evil coming from you..." You lean closer to her, "Well..you know what else can come out of me?" 

"Oh hoh, Y/n you dirty girl..The exemplary one wants to be taken in a classroom, huh? Sorry to disappoint you there." She averts her gaze from you and is now sorting through the sheets on her desk, "I have work to do." You put a hand over hers, stand up and kneeling down.

"We can do that later..."

Before you could put your plan into action, though, Steve walked in. You pretend you dropped something and stand up. However, Steve knew what was going on, "I'm just going to ignore what I saw." You had to stifle a laugh and Natasha simply asked, "What do you think you saw, Rogers?" He walked up to the two of you, "Too much. Here, one of your students left this with me in the hall." He put a list on the table. Natasha looked at it for a moment and then back at him. The situation was relatively awkward..For all of you. "Soo?"

"It's okay, I'm going, god..." You both look as he goes to the door and before he closes it, looks at you again, "Have f-fun..." And the door closed.

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I HOPE ITS NOT TO MUCH RUSHED😭

[jmflowers]

Pls talk abt the diffs between st19 and GA. Would love to read your TV production nerd language!

Well, only took me 10 days to finally find time to get to this… my apologies, anon! I hope you're still interested.

I took notes during episodes 20x02 and 7x02 of Grey's Anatomy and Station 19 respectively to formulate my answer to this, but I should disclose that I have not been an avid watcher of Grey's Anatomy in about a decade. Despite my education in technical film and television production, anything stated here is my own opinion. Art is subjective and I absolutely do not have all the answers.

Let's start with Grey's…

So, from when Grey's first premiered in 2005 until the 10th season, the show was shot on film. That fact lends a lot to the stylistic formula of the show, which is not something you ever really want to change. (Fans arrive for a certain feel, thus a production bible is created that is adhered to for - hopefully - the entirety of a piece of work.)

I think it's most obvious in the coverage of scenes; shots are long and flowing, often moving around subjects as they converse with each other. By shooting this way, they would've protected themselves from needing to reset as frequently and it makes the editing process a lot more seamless. Also, in my experience, it just makes it easier to translate a director’s vision from set into the editing room.

(In film school, a lot of people will take a million different angles of a scene, all in little snippets, because it guarantees you'll have what you need for an interesting edit. However, if you work a bunch of continuous shots of the scene, actors get the opportunity to really immerse themselves in it - resulting in better performance - and the final edit has fewer possible iterations of what it could look like. Why don't students do this? Firstly, it's harder - more risk of having something in the background that will screw things up, more challenging to cut together if you have to remove a singular moment, harder to keep steady if you're not comfortable with stabilizing equipment or don't have any. Secondly, professors don't often encourage it because a lot of people are really terrible at camera operation if they're not trained properly.)

Anyways, all that to stay is Grey’s has this really fluid style to how they shoot. Nearly every shot is moving in some way, whether it’s a dolly, a pan, a tilt, etc. Let it be said that they are really, really good at this formula.

Another component of this is wider angle shots so that the characters can be continuously moving – think of those classic hallway walking scenes as a prime example. Allowing the actors to really move in a space helps to build tension without needing a bunch of little cuts and camera angles. This means there are some scenes in the show that only have one camera angle present before it moves onto the next scene, which isn’t super common in my experience.

Not to say that they don’t utilize closeups – Grey’s is a drama so it’d be kind of weird to not make use of closeup shots for the showing of emotion. However, the closeups seem to predominantly occur in the OR. My guess as to why that is would be in helping the audience differentiate who is who (as well as what they’re feeling), since part of their faces have to be covered during operations, but that’s pure speculation on my part.

And beyond all of that, Grey’s is visually still a drama. A lot of moments occur at night. Scenes are often darker, with more focus on backlighting than clear illumination of character faces. I find their blacks a lot stronger, which is probably something to do with their colouring.

There’s also just fewer action-packed moments, since the story often takes place with people just talking, so there doesn’t appear to be as much of an editing technique called “cutting on the action”. Which, honestly, makes sense if they’re filming longer takes. (Shoutout to my prof who constantly gave triple-take homework and made me completely ridiculous about cutting. on. action. You broke me, my dude.)

Conversely, Station 19 has a very different formula…

As an action drama, that was never shot on film, S19 adheres to a completely different bible. One that they rewrote after season 2 (I think? When did the voiceover intros stop?), you’ll probably notice, when they decided to veer a little further away from their identity as a Grey’s Anatomy spinoff.

The first thing I always notice is that a lot more of S19 scenes happen during the day, since the unspoken law of most episodes is that they begin as the team is coming onto their shift first thing in the morning and then stretches through their 24-hour. Scenes are just brighter and more illuminated – more of the sunlight streaming in windows and less of the visible nighttime cityscape you’ll notice in Grey’s. I also really love that they usually begin this time period with the characters at home, whereas Grey’s seems to have episodes finish with that.

Light is also obvious in how things are coloured on S19. Their blacks don’t seem as dark in the final colouring, which may have something to do with the navy blue of their uniforms. It also just feels like there’s more white present on their sets? But that can’t possibly be true because Grey’s literally takes place in a hospital.

Anyways, S19 fully subscribes to the shooting and editing style of an action production. Scenes have lots of coverage (they utilize over-the-shoulder shots which don’t happen as often in Grey’s), there are lots of quick cuts in the edit, and their shots are overall steadier or static with less of the flowy movement that Grey’s has. They also use a lot more closeup and tighter framing, focusing on cowboy and up – unlike the Grey’s formula of a full-body shot. (A cowboy shot covers from the middle of the thigh to the top of the head, ie. you would be able to see the cowboy’s gun in its holster… anything above that is a tighter framing.)

And S19 loves a montage. I can’t say for certain whether Grey’s still uses those, or if they ever really did, but S19 leans into a zero-dialogue montage edit for storytelling. Which I don’t find super common, as I think some people believe it’s a little too artsy or stylistic, but I think is a really effective way to get a plot point across sometimes. Do we really need to know exactly what they said or is it enough to see that they were smiling when it happened? Film and television are visual medias and fanfic writers everywhere are grateful for the gaps in the story that they get to fill in with their own headcanons. (I said what I said.)

I’m sure there’s lots more things I could probably point out on why Grey’s Anatomy and Station 19 complement each other while looking like they could be from completely different universes, but that’s all I wrote down while watching them both live. Hopefully my film theory professor and my screenwriting professor are proud of me for this analysis.

Thanks for the question, anon! Always here to answer and talk nerdy if anyone ever has any more.

[tchaikovskyed]

Hi! I am an Arthurian prof and I saw your post about Malory Daily. I have a few suggestions on editions!

Most scholarship these days focuses on the Winchester Manuscript version of the Morte, whereas most popular modern English editions use the Caxton version as their source. Any public domain versions of the Morte will use Caxton. Winchester is considered closer to Malory's original text (but it's not The original), since Caxton (often heavily) edited the text to better serve his mercantile audience. For example, he makes heavy cuts to the Roman War as well as the Pentecostal Oath. If you're looking to include scholarship with each day's post, I recommend taking this into account, as most contemporary scholarship is going to focus primarily on Winchester!

With that in mind, I have a few recommended editions, although these are not in the public domain:

For Middle English (ME), PJC Field's edition through DS Brewer is the only (as in best) option. There's a paperback edition that costs ~$25 that is a BRICK but it is the best bang for your buck while also just straight up being the best version. There's also a hardcover set of the Morte and accompanying notes that is like $350 and is considered the scholarly standard, but the paperback edition is the exact same thing minus the notes. If you haven't read ME before, Malory is a great place to start because it is VERY LATE ME. He was writing in the century after Chaucer, and it's much easier to read than good ol Geoff. This is the version that most scholarship will be citing; the journal Arthuriana requires all Malory quotes to be from this version. Field in general is a great expert on all things Malory as well.

For modern English, I recommend the translation by Armstrong from Parlour Press. I believe it's also ~$25. Dorsey Armstrong is currently the editor of Arthuriana and she quite literally wrote the book on gender in the Morte. Her translation is really accessible and sticks extremely close to the ME. In my opinion, this is going to give you the closest experience to reading the ME without having to read the ME.

Future editions: at some point a translation from Whetter and Tolhurst is going to come out. K.S. Whetter is one of the big names working directly with the Winchester Manuscript (literally wrote the book on it too, studied under Field, etc) so this is bound to be a great version for anyone who wants an experience closest to the manuscript.

I hope this is helpful!

Thank you so much for this, it's been extremely helpful! I was going to make a short post about different editions but this has been 100% more coherent than anything I was going to write, and I will include all your notes in the blog's about page!

Unfortunately because I'm not too sure about copyright issues, it's easiest for the Substack to include a public domain version (more specifically the version on Project Gutenberg), with an accompanying post comparing the differences between this version and the Oxford World Classics Helen Cooper (which I'll make available online via a big ol' resources GDrive) and the Complete Works edited by Eugene Vinaver (which I have a physical copy of).

Seconded on the P.J.C Field edition which was my bible when I was writing my dissertation, although I've had a look online and it's close to impossible to access unless you are affiliated with a university in some way. I had no idea a new edition was in the works but that is really exciting!

[gojonanami]

i've been summoned to speak about prof! gojo, because aaa, it's sososo good!

he would be so liked by his students, not only because of his looks, but also because he's great at teaching and has such great approach to his students

i believe that he would give his students the weirdest things and assignments to do, and all his students would be like "wtf are we even doing" and then he would be all grinning and being proud of himself and go on to explain what this was supposed to teach them, and everyone would be like "ooooh". he totally has the most unconventional but great teaching methods!

lemme just say that his office is a bit of a mess, but like organized mess? like if you ask him to find a black pen, he would be like "there it is!", and he doesn't bother cleaning it up, unless absolutely necessary.

he isn't afraid to wander off the point to talk about something silly, like a movie he watched recently, or some food he tried (he would totes give his student his really random recommendations), or make some jokes to loosen up poor stressed students.

just because he's liked doesn't mean he's not respected. oh no no. he isn't afraid to put somebody in their place if they're out of line either towards him or other people. and his tests are annoyingly difficult, but only to people who like didn't do anything at all, because if someone paid minimum attention in his class, they would know something because he says stuff in such easy to remember way, or makes some jokes about it that are easy to recall, or just simply says to remember it because he likes to ask about it on tests.

i'm not sure how he'd get interested in reader, because i frankly like too much the idea that someone else offered here of her correcting some formula on test/exam, and him taking interest in her because of that, and i'll stand by it! but i do think that it'd be cool if reader's maybe main focus wasn't physics, but like chemistry or just something else, and she only takes physics because it's mandatory, not that she doesn't like it! and gojo would be like "girl, no, you have too much talent" and go from there

have a good day!

I completely agree!! prof gojo would have very interesting teaching methods 😭🫣 he would make his students do ridiculous things but then it would pay off in the end (at least most of the time).

despite that he’s a good teacher that truly does care for his students. his office is organized chaos as you described (mine is too honestly, I know where shit is but it’s a hot mess). he would def be the type to call people out in class but only if it’s deserved or he really wants them to do well (but also because he’s a bit of a goof and likes to be a bit savage)

haha well since reader is a department head she may have a different speciality but she def would understand the principles of physics :)

[romirola]

Headcanons for Lovely's Bloodlust House-Arrest

@princecharmingfrosting holds a very cool headcanon that William allowed Lovely to fight the first year of their bloodlust at home, rather than Wonderworld. Which means that Lovely is essentially under bloodlust house-arrest, which seems like it would have its perks but also get quite difficult. She asked me about some ways Vincent helps to make Lovely’s house-arrest bearable, so here are those headcanons. Hope you enjoy, prince!

-Every streaming service, delivery service, and subscription service that Lovely could ever want or need has been purchased. And some they do not even know about until Vincent discovered it online. (Clock-of-the-Month Club is the oddest one.)

-Vincent hires a variety of elemental and energetic artists to decorate different rooms with different weather conditions. A contra-fire elemental produces a winter wonderland, complete with the perfect type of snow for packing. An electro-energetic and water elemental pair create the most comforting thunderstorm. A fire-elemental and earth elemental create a warm day and sandy scene, complete with palm trees. Lovely flits back and forth between the rooms, almost forgetting they are stuck inside. 

-Every Wednesday, Sam comes over to keep Lovely company. They play checkers, and usually, the competition is fierce. Lovely leads 35-32. 

-Vincent also ensures that Lovely does not have to cease their studies at D.A.M.N. by advocating for their bloodlust to be accommodated with online courses. Lovely changes their program to cover (though not exclusively include) vampiric magic and culture, so they get to stay connected to their classmates and profs through video chats. As long as Lovely is feeling up to it, they complete their coursework as any student would, with Vincent sometimes trying to give them an answer to a question while staying off-camera. (He is never actually able to stay off-camera for long though. Everyone in the class asks about Vincent when they don’t see him.)

- Every other Friday, William comes over to keep Lovely company. They pass the time by studying a variety of creative outlets, such as painting, knitting, and sculpting. They are making the most beautiful tye-dye quilt.

-Vincent decides to bring a variety of plants and flowers so that Lovely can have something to take care and focus on. Lovely names each and every plant. Fernando the Fern is their most recent addition. 

[mamaestapa]

this isn’t hate so don’t take it as such but it’s really confusing seeing you have one foot in, one foot out of the fandom and then getting mad when people don’t follow or understand where you’re at

I don’t read everything you post, I’m not on tumblr often but i saw you said you’re not writing for joe rn (completely fine and valid) but you answered an ask the other day about how much of a dream it would be to have him fall in love with you (when anon said you looked like liv) AND hes still your profile pic and username. I understand the username is effort to change but he is still all over your blog and some days it seems like you’re in a good mood to talk about him and the next you’re so done and it’s just really confusing at this point. if you’re done with him, that’s fine, just pls say so bc it’s confusing when you’re like “u never know!” but also “im not in a joe mood rn” but also “I’d love him to fall in love with me and that would be a dream” and then get mad when we send asks like I genuinely just don’t understand if you love or hate him? you’ve kinda given the impression of both and it’s fine either way but pls just be clear bc it seems like we’re pissing you off but you’re not clear on where you stand and idgi cjdjdmd i thought you were done with him but then I saw the liv ask where u said it would be a dream for him to fall in love with u, so I thought ‘ok ur not writing for him, but you still like him and wanna talk ab him’, and he’s ur prof pic and stuff so I was like ok safe assumption, but then it seemed like u got mad when I sent u a tweet so im just confused fjfjffjd

i hope you understand this isn’t hate and i genuinely love your blog. i just think being clear would be helpful and if ur rlly done with him, even just for now, being straight up would be better than saying youd love him to fall in love w u and then basically telling us to shut up ab him the next day bc ur in ur hockey era rn 😭

sending this with love! once again not hate just don’t like being chastised

“this is the only ask i’ll answer regarding this. “

felt like I was being told off by a teacher in school when I just didn’t know bc u said he’s your favourite last week and some other positive things the other day😭

🤍

i don’t really know how to answer this lol. first of all, i’m not mad at anyone. i just get a little annoyed.

i want to start by saying, i don’t hate joe. i hate what the joe community on tumblr has turned into. you can’t post anything anymore without receiving hate or some sort of comment that isnt so nice. it’s frustrating to see so many good blogs and genuinely nice people receive hate because of the things they post.

we’re all on here just trying to have fun and post positive things about our favorites!

i do not expect you to read every single thing i post on here. i don’t expect that out of anyone that reads my stuff or follows me.

yes, joe absolutely is all over my blog. i’m a fan of his, i write for him, he has been my blog for a whole year now. i don’t mind receiving asks about joe, literally at all. when it comes to his personal life and what he’s doing though…it’s different.

i didn’t create my blog to talk about or speculate anything about joes personal life/life outside of football. i made this blog to write about, see pics of, and meet other people who shared a love for him and the sport too. all this community has turned into the last few months has been drama and speculation which is NOT what im here for.

i’ve moved onto hockey because football wasn’t my interest anymore and that’s okay. i didn’t say to shut up about joe, you absolutely can talk about him. i simply just said i’ve moved on.

i get a little frustrated when i get asks about when in writing fics or updating for him because i’ve said multiple times that im taking a step back and taking a break from writing about joe. am i not allowed to be a fan and say i love him without him being the focus of my blog anymore? lol.

i didn’t mean to “chastise” anyone, i just was simply saying i’m not going to answer anymore asks about what the tweet was about because it’s ALL over tumblr right now. many blogs are receiving hate, talking about the subject, etc. and i just don’t want to be apart of that. i did not create my blog to talk about his personal life or have any drama.

i’ve stopped writing about joe because of what the community has become. he has nothing to do with it.

i appreciate you being honest with me on how you feel about my blog and my approach with this! i didn’t mean to come off the way i did when i answered your ask about the tweet, i just didn’t want to contribute to the conversation anymore and make it a bigger deal than it already is.

with that being said, it’s been great on here with yall but i’m stepping away from the “joemunity”. thanks for being so amazing🤍

[manns-cape]

with a time zone difference, i realized that do a lot better overall in some things, when i have certain deadlines set to 3 a.m. this happened for me on accident, and it made everything amazing.

i asked my profs if they have any objection to just setting 3 a.m. as the deadline for courses where i'm a ta, like... it's not as if there is a real difference between midnight and 3am, let's be honest, it just pressures students into staying up long enough to still prioritize doing work for our course.

i ran my little excel sheet numbers and we improved our submission rate by so much!! i'm so happy to understand the mentality of people who don't function well. most people who end up taking math courses aren't a math major and i'm down to give a powerpoint slide now on how we can increase throughput and focus on pure mathematics, if we simply move our grading goalpost by the order of a few hours

(an inordinate amount of resources are spent on engineering students who need to retake math courses, because those math courses are super disposable to their progression with engineering-- they are not limited by math prerequisites. so, if they are competing for time in assignments against their major vs a random math course for a deadline, then they will favor their major even if it means retaking a math course once or twice or thrice. if they have time to do their math, after completing the work for their major, then they will simply do their math and not waste math department resources by retaking the same fucking course 3 times. which is cool, because it frees up the department to focus more on the pure math students-- who are much less profitable, and for that reason have thus far been less prioritized compared to budding engineers-- even in their own major)

[sillygirlblogging]

september 5, 2024

not much has been going on besides school, mommying it up, and drawing (shout out to my art blog). i wanted to do a lil studying tips post though because damn if there aren't a million of them but damn if they aren't all completely useless to folks like me.

so let's split my tips up into two groups, studying mindset and actual studying actions. studying mindset:

study when you can focus. don't half assedly study and expect to know everything you learned in that session. go back when you can focus.

create a focusing ritual. i have ADHD, i know that focusing isn't always in people's control. but you really can trick your mind sometimes! "this coffee is gonna help me lock in" "i'm gonna do a quick workout and then i will focus so much better" etc etc

reward yourself. after you finish that practice quiz or make that quizlet or read that chapter, do something you like that will continue to give you momentum. such as that cup of coffee, an episode of a show, a workout, etc. but don't let yourself sit for too long and FOOD IS NOT A REWARD YOU NEED IT!

relax at the end of the day knowing that you worked hard!

studying actions:

during lectures, try to just listen for as much as you can without taking notes. only write down things you don't know or don't think you will remember and practice shorthand. for almost anything you don't understand later, you can find it in class/uni resources or on the internet

organize your notes, make quizlets when appropriate, convert your handwritten notes to digital or vice versa and make connections or expand on concepts that you didn't have time to during the lecture

reddit. look up your class on reddit! maybe someone out there has some tips specific to passing your course. you don't have to follow their exact guide because what works for one might not work for you, but maybe there are bits and pieces that you didn't think or know of that you can incorporate

utilize your university resources. i have credits from 5 different institutions now, some big and some really small, and all of them have had resources for helping write or tutor students who need it. also, email your prof or TA! they are there to help you, that's their job. it might be nerve racking, i definitely have email anxiety, but more likely than not your request for help is not audacious at all and they will be glad you're reaching out instead of suffering in silence

what works for one class might not work for the next. put a little time into understanding what the best approach to passing the course is and create a plan of action. almost every course i've taken has had an outline of what you should be doing to pass. although sometimes they feel daunting and ridiculous to me, majority of the time they are at least a little helpful to me

that's pretty much all! happy studying and goodbye, void.