#An Astronomical Predicament

[tomoleary]

Carl Barks “Island in the Sky” An Astronomical Predicament Original Preliminary and Final Oil Painting

Source, source

His “prelim. sketch” is remarkable.

[jmliebert]

Starry Nights belong to lovers

Summary: Gale longing for Tav while being positively miserable (because i love my man being miserable sometimes, y'know...)

smut with (a little bit of) fluff and angst?

Word count: 4,250

Tags: romance, angst, longing, shameless smut

Warnings: explicit content (18+)

Author's note: because in my last playthrough i was torn between keep romancing gale or losing it all to the polygamist relationship with halsin... ( i chose my babyboy gale tho) but the possibilities are endless and here's one of them !!

also! you can read this on ao3 if you prefer it that way ♡

Well, that was rather embarrassing predicament, to say the least. Gale of Waterdeep, esteemed wizard, lurking in the shadows like a common maniac. Observing a woman of his dreams from afar. A woman who had once held his heart in the palm of her hand, only to cast it aside for another. Positively pathetic, isn’t it? 

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from watching her with a mixture of fascination and trepidation, like an astronomer gazing upon a distant star, simultaneously drawn to its brilliance and wary of its celestial power. There was something about Tav, something ineffable, yet undeniably captivating, that compelled him to observe her, whenever he had a chance. Mind you, Gale's captivation resided not in the moments of intimacy, but rather in the quiet nuances of Tav's daily life. He found himself drawn to her ordinary rituals, avoiding the intrusion upon her private moments as a matter of principle— he adored watching her writing letters in the soft glow of the evening, tending to her garden with such grace, the quiet reverence with which she communed with nature's wonders. Each gesture, each fleeting expression painted a portrait of a woman both ordinary and extraordinary, and Gale found himself inexplicably drawn to her.

And yet, amidst the tapestry of her daily life, there was one thread that left a bitter taste upon his tongue— Halsin. Oh, how he despised the very mention of the name, the mere thought of the druid being so close to Tav and being her lover (whatever that meant in Halsin’s world), stirred a pang of ugly jealousy within his breast. For what claim did Halsin have upon Tav's affections, he wondered relentlessly, when it was he who loved her from the very beginning. It was he who worshipped the ground she was walking on. And finally, it was he who forgot his goddess because of her. 

Still, Tav didn’t choose Gale. 

Well, maybe that statement wasn’t entirely correct. In truth, Tav did chose Gale at the beginning of their journey. They would spend countless hours in his tent, engrossed in conversation and lost in the pages of books. Their laughter echoed through the camp. He took great care to ensure that Tav received the choicest bits during their shared meals and in moments of distress, Tav sought solace in his reassuring presence, finding comfort in the warmth of his hand clasped firmly in hers. Though Gale never said it out loud, he felt a swell of pride knowing he was the one she turned to in her hour of need. 

Oh, how he admired her unwavering sense of justice and compassion. She was committed to doing what was right, even when faced with the most daunting challenges. In a world this wicked and dark, she was a beacon of light. She gave him hope when all seemed lost, and in turn he offered her his heart, but Tav wanted more, it would seem. 

He saw her talking with Halsin more and more as they were roaming through The Shadow-Cursed Lands. It seemed as though every passing moment brought them closer together. Tav's radiant smile and melodious laughter filled the air as she was talking with the druid. And the way he looked at her, made something inside Gale stir. Halsin gaze lingered on Tav, his eyes alight with admiration, mirroring Gale’s own. It was pretty obvious, yet, when Tav asked him, how he would feel as to having another person in their relationship he was taken aback. His first thought was the baby. 

“What, like a child? I’m not sure I’d consider myself a father material, plus our current lifestyle isn’t exactly what I would called settled…”

“It’s Halsin. He wants to be with me, but he doesn’t ask that I sacrifice you. We would…share.” Tav's words hung in the air, heavy with implication

Share?

Gale's mind reeled at the notion. “Share? You’re not a loaf of bread to be divided up at a supper time! I thought what we had meant something for you.” 

But apparently he was wrong. Perhaps it hadn’t mean as much to Tav, as it meant to him and the realisation of that made him a truly miserable man. He was also angry, so angry beneath the surface. It was hard to stay at the camp after all this, it was hard to watch them talking, breathing, just being. Yet despite his best efforts, he couldn’t bring himself to hate Tav. And for that he was even more enraged. How could he be so weak? 

As the time passed and Baldur’s Gate was finally safe, the companions went their separate ways. At first, Gale welcomed the prospect of solitude, believing that distancing himself from Tav would bring him peace. He came back to Waterdeep  and sought solace in his study, surrounded by his precious books and arcane tomes. He threw himself into his studies with renewed fervour, delving into the depths of ancient texts and lost knowledge in an attempt to distract himself from the pain gnawing at his heart, but it wouldn’t go away.

One evening, after one too many glasses of wine, Gale found himself consumed by a reckless impulse. It was a night much like any other, yet something within him stirred, a restless energy that demanded release. Casting an invisibility spell upon himself, he ventured out into the night. Before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself teleporting to the familiar streets of Baldur's Gate. Near where he knew Tav lived, to be precise. He told himself he was merely checking on her, ensuring her safety in a world fraught with danger. But deep down, he knew the truth.

As he watched her from the shadows, unseen and unnoticed, he found himself entranced by her mere presence. She was brushing her hair, her movements fluid and graceful, her face bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. In that moment, she looked so utterly beautiful, that Gale had to fight back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. 

It began as a one-time occurrence, a fleeting moment of weakness, he told himself. Yet, with each passing day, Gale found himself seeking out more excuses to linger in Tav's vicinity, even if she remained unaware of his silent vigil. And so, he became a ghostly spectator, haunting the edges of her life, longing for a connection he knew he could never truly have. 

Because, how could he? How could he love her one moment only to watch her slip away into the arms of another the next? He couldn’t live like this, even if it’s Tav. So he just watched her, not ready to let go. 

☾☾☾

This particular night, Tav was alone. Halsin was away, tending to orphans he took under his wings after all that happened in Baldur’s Gate. Truth be told, Halsin's frequent absences were a relief to Gale as it was still hard for him to witness the bond he had with Tav. There was an intimacy between them that Gale found himself unable to stomach. 

Gale found Tav in her bedroom, nestled on the bed, a book cradled in her hands like a precious treasure. The soft glow of candlelight bathed her in a warm embrace, casting delicate shadows across her features. She looked so peaceful, so utterly content in that moment, and Gale couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the sight. In another life, they would read their books side by side every night, their fingers tracing the words upon the pages. 

Gale, didn’t know exactly why, but instead of his usual routine of observing Tav from the safety of the window, like a little puppy desperately waiting for their owner to let them in, he now found himself seated in his favourite chair on the other side of Tav's bed, invisible. It was an audacious move, even for him. Maybe, he was feeling particularly lonely that starry, romantic night? Or maybe there was something in the summer air… no matter what, the pull of her presence was too strong to resist at that moment.

So Gale was sitting there, watching Tav and enjoying the warm breeze. Lost in his thoughts, he shifted slightly in his seat, his foot inadvertently knocking into one of the candles seated on the floor. His heart lurched as he watched in horror as the candle toppled over, its flame igniting the delicate fabric of Tav's blanket. Panic surged through him as he realised what he had done, his mind racing with frantic thoughts, his hands on his head in pure disbelief. 

"Oh, no!" he exclaimed, the words escaping his lips before he could stop them.

“Gale?” Tav’s voice, full of confusion, pierced through the silence, sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through Gale's veins. 

With a quick flick of his wrist, Gale summoned a rush of water, his practiced fingers weaving a complex pattern in the air as he cast a rapid incantation. The water swirled and danced in the air, cascading gracefully onto the flames and extinguishing them in a matter of seconds. As the last flicker of flame died out, Gale hesitated for a moment before releasing the invisibility spell that had cloaked him from view. With a soft shimmering light, he materialised into view, his expression a mixture of sheepishness and devastation of a defeated man.

"Hello, Tav," he said, his voice tinged with embarrassment as he met her gaze. "It seems I've made a bit of a mess, haven't I?” Gale asked as the smoke began to dissipate around him.

Now, he was waiting for Tav to be (rightfully) furious at him, but she wasn’t. Instead, she seemed to be…concerned? 

“Are you all right?” Her voice was laced with genuine worry, her eyes searching his face for any signs of distress. It was a simple question, but it carried a weight that caught Gale off guard.

For a moment, Gale found himself speechless. He had anticipated anger or confusion, not this. His heart felt heavy. 

"I'm...I'm fine," he stammered, his voice betraying a hint of disbelief as he struggled to compose himself.

“Good,” Tav said, stepping closer to Gale and enveloping him in a warm embrace. He froze momentarily at the unexpected touch, his heart racing in his chest. “I don’t understand how you got here,” Tav murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she buried her face in Gale's chest, “and I’m not even sure if I want to know,” she added. "But I’m glad you are here," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "I’ve missed you... more than I can put into words." Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over and cascading down her cheeks as she clung to him, seeking solace in his embrace. Gale felt his body stiff at first at the sudden gesture, but despite it all he held her close, offering silent reassurance as they stood together in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"Shh," he whispered softly, his touch tender as he traced soothing circles along her back. With every motion, he felt the weight of her sorrow, the depth of her longing, and his own heartache mirrored in her tears. He fought to hold back his own emotions, to be the pillar of strength she needed in that moment. To be a true man. But beneath the facade of composure, Gale's own tears threatened to spill over. “I’ve missed you too, Tav.” And his words were honest. 

"After we destroyed the brain, you left so abruptly," Tav's voice trembled with emotion, her words carrying the weight of unspoken pain."I thought... I thought maybe you didn't want to see me ever again, that you detested me. And I understand if you do. I know you might think that all we had, was just a facade, a lie, but it wasn't.”

Gale listened in silence, and his heart throbbed with pain. He hated to watch her cry. ”I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the hushed cadence of the night. "I never meant to hurt you.” 

"I should be the one apologising," she murmured, her voice laced with regret. "I felt so guilty for leaving you like that, Gale. There were nights when I cried myself to sleep, feeling your absence like a gaping wound. And in those moments, Halsin... he was there for me. But it wasn't the same. It could never be the same.”

Gale's chest tightened at her confession, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a burden too heavy to bear. "Tav..." he began, his voice choked with emotion and…hope? But before he could utter another word, she silenced him with a gentle touch of her hand. She looked deep into his eyes, looking for something in them. 

"Gale," she whispered, her voice soft yet resolute. "I want you to know... I love you. I've always loved you." Her words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and emotion. "But I also love Halsin. In a different way, perhaps, but love nonetheless.”

Gale felt his heart sink at her admission, a pang of sorrow lancing through him like a blade. Despite the warmth of her touch, he couldn't shake the chill that settled in the depths of his very soul. "Tav," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "you know I'm not... I can't be... I want you all to myself. It hasn't changed since the last time we spoke about this.” And despite himself he added— “I think I should leave now.”

With a heavy sigh, he made a move to leave, to escape the turmoil of his emotions, but before he could take more than a few steps, Tav's hand shot out, grabbing his own with a desperate urgency. 

"Don't leave," she pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation. "Not tonight. Let's forget about Halsin, about everything. Just... let's be together tonight, you and I. Please?” Her eyes searched his, pleading for understanding, for connection, for something to hold onto in the midst of their tangled emotions.

And then she came closer, dangerously close. As her lips met his in a tender yet impassioned kiss, Gale felt his resolve waver, crumbling like sand between his fingers. The warmth of her touch, the sweetness of her embrace, it all washed over him like a wave, sweeping him away in a sea of longing and desire.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other, their bodies pressed together in a fervent embrace. Gale's heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm of their kiss echoing the tumultuous beat of his emotions. And in that fleeting moment, as their lips parted and their eyes locked in silent understanding, Gale surrendered to the intoxicating pull of their shared desire. With a surge of strength, Gale lifted Tav effortlessly into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he carried her towards the bed. Each step felt like a revelation. 

As he gently laid her down upon the soft sheets, their eyes met once more, the intensity of their gaze speaking volumes. With trembling hands, Gale traced the contours of her face, memorising every curve and line as if committing them to memory.

Tav appeared as a vision of ethereal beauty, her form draped in the delicate embrace of silk nightwear that accentuated every curve and contour of her body. Gone were the rugged trappings of their journey through the wilderness, replaced instead by the subtle elegance of her attire. Gale found himself captivated, his gaze lingering on the gentle curve of her neck, the graceful slope of her shoulders, and the subtle rise and fall of her chest with each breath. There was a vulnerability in her appearance that stirred something deep within him, a longing to protect and cherish her with every fiber of his being.

“Oh, Tav,” Gale said as he enveloped her body in his arms, burying his face in the soft curve of her neck, inhaling deeply the sweet, intoxicating scent that enveloped her. The warmth of her body pressed against his own ignited a fire within him, a primal urge that had been dormant for far too long. As their bodies pressed together, a wave of arousal washed over him, leaving him painfully hard and achingly aware of every brush of skin. Tav's hand found its way between their bodies, her touch sending shivers of pleasure racing up his spine as she palmed his growing erection.

A low, guttural moan escaped his lips as pleasure rippled through him, his senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. It was as if he had been starved for this connection, this physical closeness, and now that he had it, he was powerless to resist its allure. As Tav shifted her position being on top of him, like his queen, straddling Gale's hips, she moved with a fluid grace that left him mesmerised. With deft fingers, she began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the toned muscles beneath, her touch sending a shiver of anticipation through his willing body.

In response, Gale reached up to grasp the hem of Tav's nightdress, pulling it over her head with a reverence that bordered on worship. As the fabric fell away, she was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, her skin aglow with a warmth that seemed to emanate from within.

Gale's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him. Tav was utterly beautiful, her rounded breasts heaving with each breath, her thighs pressing against his hips as she straddled him. In that moment he knew, she held him in the palm of her hand, a goddess of desire and passion, and he was powerless to resist as he was just a mere human. 

As she unbuttoned his pants and her fingers wrapped around his throbbing penis, Gale felt himself losing control. Every touch sent shivers down his spine, his desire mounting with each caress. Despite his trembling voice, he managed to murmur, "You don't have to do this."

"But I want to," she responded, her breath warm against his skin as she pressed a tender kiss to the glans of his penis. Gale took a deep breath through his clenched teeth. His arousal was palpable, his desire for her nearly overwhelming as she took him into her mouth with a delicate grace that left him shaking with need. Each sensation was magnified tenfold, every touch sending waves of pleasure crashing over him in an ecstatic frenzy. As her lips closed around him, he could feel the warmth of her mouth enveloping him, her tongue dancing along his length with a skill that bordered on sinful.

Gale could hardly contain the primal urge building within him, the intensity of his desire threatening to consume him whole. With each gentle caress and tantalising stroke, he felt himself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, his body aching for release. His hips moving shyly, only to be held down by Tav hands.

“ Tav, Tav I’m close,” he said, but she didn’t stop instead she was sucking him even harder. And when Gale finally came, it was like an explosion of pleasure unlike anything he had ever experienced before. With a cry of ecstasy, he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, his body convulsing with the force of his release as he spilled himself into Tav's waiting mouth, his senses ablaze with a euphoria that left him gasping for breath. The world went quiet for a second, but not long after he felt Tav body on his. Her soft curves pressed against his chest. Her lips, swollen from their passionate encounter, hovered just inches from his own, and he couldn't resist the urge to draw her closer, his fingers tangling in the silky strands of her hair. Gale smiled. 

With a gentle touch, he brushed a stray lock away from her forehead. When he saw a droplet of his sperm lingering in the corner of her mouth, he couldn't help but be overcome by a sudden surge of desire. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, capturing the droplet with his thumb and bringing it to his lips, savouring the taste of their shared passion as he licked it away. And as their lips met in a searing kiss, Gale felt himself consumed by a hunger unlike anything he had ever known, his hands roaming freely over her back as they lost themselves in the heat of the moment. 

Their night was far from the end. 

Their kisses grew more urgent, more desperate, as their bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and desire. With every touch, every caress, Gale felt a surge of longing course through him, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. As his hand trailed down her spine, exploring every curve and contour of her body, Tav's breath hitched in her throat, a soft moan escaping her lips as she melted into his touch. And when his fingers finally found their way to the wetness between her legs, she couldn't help but arch her back in response, a shudder of pleasure coursing through her.

With a hunger that bordered on desperation, Gale shifted his position, kneeling between her legs as he drank in the sight of her. His heart raced in his chest as he watched her, every movement, every quiver of her body, sending waves of desire crashing over him.

"I need you, inside," Tav whispered, reading his thoughts exactly. Her voice barely more than a breathless plea. Her eyes bore into his, dark with desire, and Gale knew he couldn't deny her. With a tenderness Gale lowered himself down onto her, positioning his penis to her sweet entrance. 

He had imagined it countless times during the lonely hours in his study, weaving fantasies in the quiet solitude of his mind. But now, as the reality of their passion unfolded before him, it surpassed even his most vivid dreams. In her embrace, Gale felt a sense of wholeness he had longed for, a completeness that eluded him in his solitary existence. Closing his eyes for a fleeting moment, Gale focused on the sensation of her body beneath his, the warmth of her skin against his own. And when Tav's hips began to move in a gentle rhythm, he followed suit, his movements initially tentative but growing bolder with each passing moment, encouraged by her soft moans. 

Quickly Gale found himself lost in the heady haze of desire, his senses overwhelmed by the sight and sound of Tav squirming beneath him, her moans of pleasure driving him to new heights of ecstasy. With each thrust, each movement of their bodies, he felt a primal urge building within him, driving him ever closer to the brink of release. He groaned each time he was all in, deep inside her sweet wetness, his gaze locked onto hers with a ferocity he didn't know he possessed.

As he drew near, his thrusts grew increasingly erratic, his control slipping with each passing moment. Despite his desperate attempts to hold back, he found himself on the precipice of release, his body trembling with anticipation. "Come for me, my love," he whispered, his voice husky with desire, his fingers tenderly caressing her cheek. And as Tav's back arched in ecstasy, her breath hitching, and walls tightening Gale felt his own climax approaching like a tidal wave, ready to engulf him in its powerful embrace. With a low, guttural grunt, he buried himself deep inside her, his hands gripping hers tightly as he surrendered to the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over him. With a primal cry, they reached the pinnacle of their desire, their bodies convulsing in unison as waves of bliss washed over them.

In that moment of pure connection, Gale surrendered to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him, his release flooding Tav's depths with a torrent of his essence. Deep inside her, he poured himself into her with abandon, his ropes of cum filling her wholly as they became one. As the last echoes of their shared climax faded into the hushed stillness of the room, Gale held Tav tightly in his embrace, their bodies entwined in the aftermath of their lovemaking. They lay there, panting and spent, their hearts racing.

Desperately, Gale clung to the fleeting moment, reluctant to pull away from the intimate connection they shared. He wanted to linger inside her, to savor the warmth of her embrace for just a little while longer, before the outside world intruded once more. 

Gale's touch was tender, his hand tracing soothing patterns along Tav's back, lulling her into a peaceful slumber. With her hand resting gently on his chest, she seemed so close, yet so far away. And for a fleeting moment, everything felt perfect, as if they had found each other's again.But as Gale's fingers sense the tiny wooden duck hidden beneath the pillow, reality came crashing back with brutal clarity. It was a stark reminder of the presence they could not escape, a symbol of the inevitable truth that awaited them at dawn. His heart felt empty. What they had shared this night was nothing more than a fleeting illusion, a desperate grasp at something unattainable.

“I love you,” he said softly, though he knew he shouldn’t. 

With one last lingering gaze at Tav's sleeping form, he turned away, a heavy weight lifting from his shoulders as he made his way out of her bedroom, finally letting her go for good. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

thank you so much for reading !

you can find more of my works about bg3 ♡here♡

[starly-amazing]

Well hello there, Stardust! I feel like I'm in a bit of a predicament and something tells me it's your fault｡:✧˚*:･｡

-Releases another dragon(adjacent) Loop into the wild-

I commissioned the lovely @nycroshears to draw Loop as a Rukemi; one of my OC species that I'm shoving in an AU I've been working on! An AU that started out as a scene that popped in my head when I was falling asleep of a rukemi grabbing Siffrin by the scruff and making them confess to their family...which turned into a massive AU I've been outlining for weeks now.

Rukemis as a species idea are nearing 20 years old at this point! I think it's past time I debut them in more than a few commissions thrown into the uncaring void of tumblr every few years. I'm not going to talk too much about them now; that'll be revealed in the AU itself!

Some more info about Rukemis + closeups below. (ISAT SPOILERS)

Fun facts about rukemis!

They're from a parallel Earth where the meteor that killed the dinosaurs glided past harmlessly.

They're descended from troodonts about 67-68mya who had a whack mutation that caused their front limbs to duplicate. They were very useless at first but others of the species found them SO ATTRACTIVE they ended up thriving and the wings over time evolved to be functional. So they are theropod dinosaurs, like t-rexes, velociraptors, and modern birds.

They evolved sapience not long before humans did after a smaller extinction event wiped out biodiversity in habitats adjacent to their native range.

Before they were relatively unassuming small tree-dwelling creatures similar to primates but with the bonus ability to fly. But with the new free real estate some of them branched out and rapidly evolved much larger sizes and intelligence comparable to our own. Now, they're roughly the size of small horses and stand about as tall as us when they're standing on all fours.

Now, parallel to our Earths, they exist a few hundred years more technologically "advanced" than us.

Their societal development was similar to ours at the start, including the destruction of their Earth's ecosystem, wars, oppression, and other fun things. But after ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ and ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ they managed to rise from the ashes and build a ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮.

It was after they got their collective ▮▮▮▮ together that they gained the power to travel to other parallel Earths, manipulate elements, heal wounds, and ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ their ▮▮▮▮▮ into ▮▮▮▮▮ sophonts upon ▮▮▮▮▮.

Now, many rukemis spend their lives trying to ▮▮▮▮ other ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ not ▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮ up like ▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮.

Their designs were based on ▮▮▮▮ from ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮ and originally looked like your standard middle-schooler's white wolf rainbow wings + horns OC that you can see (here), but after 20ish years of workshopping they're now their own dragon dinosaur species (and are much, much gayer). This design is the most accurate and all others in the link are older versions.

They have three main sexes that are impossible to tell apart at a glance and have a much looser and queerer relationship to "gender" and family.

They generally live in family units of 3-8 adults + their children (now, often including humans and other sophonts) and have a much more relaxed & shifting hierarchy than humans generally do.

They are nice, and soft and warm.

Enter Loop, just a normal rukemi who just wanted to live a normal life as an astronomer working to discover extraterrestrial life on other planets (because finding life on parallel Earths just wasn't cool enough for them). After an ▮▮▮▮▮▮ by a ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ ▮▮▮▮▮▮, they were thrown into the world of SASASAAP and eventually runs into Loop Siffrin struggling through their time loops all alone.

Originally, I created a random rukemi to aid ISAT Siffrin through the loops and join the family after they broke free of them. But after developing it for a while I realized I had no idea what to do with Loop so I just fused the two into one and tossed them into the Start Again world to help OG Siffrin instead.

(Sorry yall, this Loop doesn't sparkle as they are made up of flesh and blood and not pure craft energy. They did get some cool "tattoos" some time before coming to SASASAAP world looking like a celestial being, though! They look like the 2nd image to Siffrin. If they had more time they might found some glitter to make a more theatrical entrance.)

Check em out @eggr0ast @starlitmeadows @chipper-smol @dasnercaret @iknowicanbutwhy @morva-doodles @malwarechips @skibblesnek

-Adds another "dragon" Loop to the pile-

[kai-malewife]

Drunken Night | Alhaitham

Alhaitham x gen!reader

Summary: Alhaitham abhors alcohol. Not only is it harmful to your health, but it also reduces anyone to a blithering imbecile, much like his roommate. Alcohol turns people into fools, yet Alhaitham is one of them.

Warnings : Not explicit but pretty suggestive (implied smut), mention of alcohol/drinking, making out, fluffy teasing, Alhaitham is a bit ooc?, very clingy and affectionnate scribe, a little clumsy too

Cross-Posted on Ao3 @ Zhonglis_cake_saves_lifes

Link here!

To say that Alhaitham could not hold his liquor was a major understatement. 

Sure, he'd had a drink with Kaveh a handful of times, seeing as the architect was quite the wine enthusiast, but he'd always limit his intake to no more than half a glass, hardly enough to get him tipsy in the slightest. He was always the responsible half, burdened with carrying his mindless roommate back home, the latter inebriated beyond recognition. He had grown accustomed to such a boundary and the unbidden duty it entailed, although at times he was more than inclined to abandon him there.

And now, sitting in the lounge of his very own home, he ponders: how is it that he finds himself in this predicament? 

His entire face is searing hot to the extent of vertigo, a sharp dizziness rendering his brain unable to sustain a decent train of thought, all the while his clothes clutch onto his damp skin, feeling unduly constricting, especially in a certain area he would rather avoid mentioning…

Perhaps it was the fact that you were both already inside the house, and thus there was no need for either of you to remain sober? Or maybe was it your exasperating obstinacy in prodding him until he relented to your plea? It's not as though he is fond of alcohol; booze tastes foul and is nowhere near healthy for your liver, particularly with the amount you've both consumed over the past hour. Then again, just how long can he truly retain his inflexible façade when you're flashing him that bright, toothy grin of yours as you so very ‘innocently’ refill the cup in his hands? 

He could rack his brains all night long, there was no denying that he was partly to blame for allowing himself to get carried away.

‘’Y’know alcohol’s supposed to loosen you up, right? No need t’be so stiff…’’

Your dulcet tones reach his reddened ears, each individual syllable keenly perceived, yet he struggles to process the sentences spilling past your lips. Glassy eyes dwell upon the pink flesh in motion, soft and seductive as strings of words flow, sparking within him a spontaneous urge to kiss you that he, unsuccessfully so, desperately attempts to suppress, unwilling to succumb to what he deems to be "uncouth" urges.

You’re facing him from the opposite end of the couch, peppily slurring nonsensical musings amidst a few hiccups, a sluggish smile etched on your face. 

A costly, now half-empty bottle of wine stands tall atop the wooden coffee table adjacent to the sofa alongside two glasses, both devoid of liquid. The room is spinning, and he can already sense the onset of an astronomical migraine pounding within his cranium; the dim glow of the bulbs adorning the living room ceiling combined with the extensive amount of alcohol coursing through his veins barely allowing him to discern anything past your hazy figure.

‘’...Hm? Haitham?’’ 

He closes in, body moving of its own volition, as though immersed in a trance, regaining his senses only when the gentle scent of your perfume, impregnated with the faint stench of liquor, pervades his nostrils. 

Your lids flutter shut in anticipation of a kiss, one which, curiously enough, does not occur. 

A frown creases your brows in bemusement and you glance up at the scribe, solely to be met with his signature taunting gaze; his lips had remained hovering above yours, distant of hardly a few millimeters, and tugged in a smirk even more irritating than the amused glint in his eyes. You scoff.

‘’Seems like drinkin’ didn't knock that lame sense of humor out of you, huh... ’’

''I, for one, do not believe it could ever deprive me of such an inherent trait of my personality.''

Despite his elaborate vocabulary -and dirty tricks!-, it is plainly obvious that your lover is not quite his usual self given his feverish demeanor -pinkish cheeks and unfocused stare- and the way his words, jestingly mumbled at little above a whisper, loosely drift to your ears, distinctively low and monotone albeit uncharacteristically muddled, almost nasally. Hardly fitting for one as well-spoken as the Scribe.

You shove him away in a huff before turning your back on the man in retaliation for his nasty prank.

‘’Jerk.’’

‘’Oh my, your words deeply wound me.’’ Attentive to your reactions, or rather lack thereof, he snickers at your sulkiness; a quiet, nearly inaudible sound filling the air. ‘’Come on. Don’t be like that.’’

‘’Should’ve thought bout’ your actions much sooner then.’’

Perhaps it is due to the influence of the wine, but Alhaitham neither has the desire nor the intention to leave the poor you alone. He just can't help teasing you a little, even more so when you respond in such an entertaining manner.

His large palms settle on your waist in a delicate but clumsy gesture, and before long, his warm forehead softly collides with your back, pressing gently against your spine.

‘’I’m sorryyy.’’

He playfully stretches out the last syllable, not a shred of remorse apparent in his voice, his hold on you gradually morphing into a full-blown embrace. The heat emanating from him seeps through the fabric of your shirt as he nestles even closer. 

The bizarre idea of a childish Alhaitham does not entirely sit well with you, but it is truly a sight to behold - not that you’d cave in and accept his half-assed apology just yet. After all, wouldn't it be much better to relish in the sporadic phenomenon that is a clingy Alhaitham for a little while longer?

Kisses begin to trail up your body, arising in the gap between your shoulder blades and extending all the way to the nape of your neck, ultimately spreading across your jawline with boundless affection and tenderness. And once you finally do turn to face him, to grant him all the attention he sought so dearly in his lovesick, drunken state, he doesn't miss the opportunity to capture your lips in one swift motion. 

Your fingertips leisurely reach towards his face in response, all past indignation long forgotten. Silken digits loiter on the pale moonlight skin, gliding along each feature, each curve and bump, in mellow circular strokes, soundlessly indulging the contented sighs escaping his throat. You cup his cheeks, pulling him immeasurably closer, your tongues intertwining in a slow, lustful dance as he carefully eases you down onto the sturdy sofa arm.

He props himself up above your breathless form, and as things grow more and more intimate, he fails to notice the extent to which one of his hands, lying flat on the padded surface, had inched closer to the edge of the upholstered seat. Utterly enthralled by the intensity of the moment, intoxicated by the taste of your tongue and the heavy panting flooding the room, Alhaitham inadvertently exerts more weight onto his palm, causing, to no surprise, the latter to slip, and resulting in the Haravatat student falling off the couch, and of course, dragging you down along with him.

It takes you several seconds to fully comprehend the situation, the shock sobering you up a bit.

His bare, toned back is resting flush against the cool stone flooring, and you, blouse unbuttoned and damped in sweat, now straddling him.

‘’…Seems like gravity’s gotten the best of Sumeru’s feeble scholar, hm?’’

He rolls his eyes, mumbling a retort you don’t quite catch under his breath. You find yourself unable to hold in a laugh at the look of sheer embarrassment written all over his pretty face. The scribe was notorious for his foolproof schemes and frequently boasted -though he prefers to call it "merely asserting his abilities"- of his lack of blundering. It is therefore truly a remarkable feat to witness him fumbling in such comical fashion. You’d almost feel bad for him. 

Almost.

Sensing the built-up arousal pulsing through his pants from beneath you, you flash him a smirk, preparing to resume what had been initiated on the snug sofa moments earlier when a sudden thought crosses your mind.

‘’I totally forgot but… Won’t Kaveh be home soon?’’

Alhaitham doesn't reply. Instead, he digs into his trouser pocket and retrieves a golden metal key dangling from an overly cutesy charm. Too cute for somebody the likes of your stoic boyfriend.

‘’Don’t worry about him, I already made sure he wouldn’t be an inconvenience.’’

[hmshermitcraft]

Now, while not the standard "celeberties" in the stereotypical sense, both Mumbo and Pearl are essentially Idols in their fields of work, receiving the same level of attention and treatment as actors and singers.

Pearl, an astrophysicist, known for her groundbreaking discoveries regarding the moon and other celestial bodies, found herself in an odd predicament as she seemed to grow fonder and fonder of this celebrated engineer she had met during a New Year's Eve party held by her brother, Grian. There was just something about those eyes and his suit, the way that he let his intelligence shine through his jokes and comments, and the hints to the chaotic weirdness she just knew laid beneath that thin layer he held up for those who didn't know him well.

Mumbo, a roboticist and engineer, known for his groundbreaking robots that had been used to reach the moon and now some of the furthest solar system bodies, found himself in an odd predicament as he seemed to have fallen hard for the astrophysicist who had used his machines to make such astronomical discoveries. He'd known about her for years now, mostly through Grian, getting stories of the siblings' chaotic hijinks and sometimes, he'd get some news about her work, but now- Now she stood right in front of him, and she was drop dead killer, even in the formal academic attire she was stunning, but in casual clothing- were it not for the soft buzz of the jack he had earlier, he'd be a stuttering mess from how cool she looked.

The introduction went well, and when Grian brought up what they did for work, things began to hit it off fast. The two would spend almost all of the party just talking about their fields and stories from their past, sitting beneath the cosmic painting that is the midnight sky above them.

This was bad. That was the first thought that came to Mumbo's mind when the flash of the camera hit them- both him and Pearl had met up together at her place of work to discuss somethings, and it was just- how could he not lean in and kiss that smart face? How was he supposed to know that a reporter had came in right behind them to get a statement. Already, they saw how colleagues and fans of their work were beginning to talk about how amazing it would be if they were to work together, and a tiny few who started to connect a few dots-

This was great! Er, well, it gave them an answer on how to break the news on how they were dating. At least it wasn't from someone digging where they shouldn't have. Pearl was far more positive on this, using it as a way to safely and more appropriately reveal the "new" relationship. Of course, it came with some downsides, the letters and "critics" regarding a relationship between coworkers or who their partner was were always annoying, and at times, aggravating, but it was manageable, they had even gotten a "couple name" by a fan which was Celestial Nonsene- she had no idea where it came from, but she liked it. The best thing to come out of this all was her brother showing up to her place the day after it broke news, only to find a messy haired mumbo still in his boxers (that had moons on them, a gift from her) and a groggy Pearl who was wearing Mumbo's tie. Now that was a fuuun day, and nothing was better than messing with Grian by just leaning over and giving her boyfriend a solid kiss that left him seeing stars a bit.

-👁🎭

Grian is outnumbered and he regrets ever introducing the pair. They probably would've crossed paths eventually - Pearl works with a lot of high tech equipment! But Grian accelerated the process, and with it, his misery.

Seriously, he's glad they're getting along so well, but not so well they're teaming up to tease him!

[dreams-writings]

Reverse Interrogation -

Part 2

sub!Feitan x top!reader

‼️NSFW / MDNI ‼️

Synopsis: For the first time in his life, Feitan fails an interrogation. Refusing to admit defeat and give up his perfect track record when it comes to his specialty, he begrudgingly allows reader to strike a bargain in exchange for her secrets.. and is shocked to learn what she truly wants. His body. Frustrated and furious with his predicament, he angrily accepts her conditions purely for the sake of the Troupe, agreeing to do as she says. No other reason...

[afab reader is more experienced, Feitan is a virgin. This part is long, it takes a while to get him to open up.]

Tw: smut, torture, violence, NSFW/MDNI, vulgar language, Feitan gives verbal consent but still isn't happy with the situation/ (dubcon????)

Taglist: @chrollosbiggeststan

"Don't understand request.. why..." Feitan's defensive hiss of displeasure was voiced as he felt the odd and foreign sensation of body weight pooling down upon his hips. Since the start of all this, he'd begrudgingly done exactly as his prior victim asked, to fulfill his end of the bargain they made. If he followed her commands, he would get the answers he'd tortured her for earlier, and failed to pry from her lips by his own terms. Now he had to do it her way.

He'd complained through every second of bandaging her wounds, and changing her into fresh clothing before the main event - one of her first commands to him. But he just couldn't meet her gaze anymore the same way as before if he was being truthful. He was terrified to make eye contact, and melt into a visible puddle of humiliation. Just knowing what they were to do together soon..

He was worried she might see how much the proposition of sexual intercourse affected him. So, he kept his face and his eyes turned away from her in total stubborn avoidance. It was also one of the only ways he could somewhat protest without disobeying, before he figured out more that is. He could be a sly little brat to handle.

She was straddling him, and he squirmed uncomfortably. He hated this. Closeness, intimacy, all of it - Feitan found it extremely detestable and he was already overwhelmed. Feitan didn't know how he was going to get through this for Chrollo. "Why? You heard me and my standards for this little agreement perfectly fine just earlier. Far too late to ask questions now, interrogator. Besides-"

"Can't believe you would.. ask Danchou to his face for this type of arrangement.." the feral man with ebony hair and narrowing gray eyes spat at her in reply, disgust making his lip curl. He continued avoiding her eyes.

"Don't interrupt me," she said, abruptly. Feitan scoffed incredulously, his brow knitting together into an expression of fury. How dare she. Yet, at the same time, he found himself marveled and perplexed. He had to begrudgingly admit.. she had balls, talking back to him, after he was practically tearing her fingernails off not even an hour ago for a chunk of desired intel. He was still very puzzled by her bold personality and the fact that he didn't scare the living daylights out of her.

He could ruin her fucking life. And she was telling him to shut up. The audacity. Although, perhaps a bit of his rage here was tied to his hurt pride and the unexpectedness of this whole situation. He had never failed an interrogation before. This woman was just some sort of freak of nature, or perhaps bloody insane. This whole deal where she supposedly would get to use him like a toy or something.. it felt like the ultimate humiliation. Punishment for his incompetence. This wasn't going to be witnessed by anyone in person, sure - but Chrollo knew. His great respected leader. And that alone was enough to put a stain on his name, and wound his ego astronomically. Hence his rigid resistance.

Nonetheless, he couldn't find the words to bite back anyway, for what he originally meant to say. He knew the foul word for "whore" in his first language but didn't quite recall the verbage to express the insult to her face right now, in hers. He was frustrated with his lack of vocabulary with which he swore he would've weaponized a million clever offenses to cut her down. Unfortunately she had him kind of tongue tied.

A woman... A pretty woman this close.. it wasn't normal for him. Even with people he'd known his whole life. She was a stranger.

Rather, the pale raven was insistent about keeping everyone an arms length away at all times. He didn't like what this was doing to him. He was already beginning to sweat, whether it be from stress or just biological response.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" She practically purred. He felt her shift slightly, probably a purposeful move, shimmying to position herself a little lower down his abdomen. The fucking bitch could feel he was already getting hard, couldn't she?

The poor, touch starved man couldn't help it. A girl wanted to fuck him for the first time and he was furious that his yearning body betrayed him so openly. She would certainly know one way or another, eventually. So he told himself it wouldn't matter if it were unavoidable in the end, anyway.

At least, he did this to avoid the realization that something as unremarkable as her close proximity already had his bloodflow rushing south. In the past, he'd soothed his instinctive reproductive urges like any self isolated male did. Chronic masturbation.

It had been a frequent activity that was intended to simply satisfy his needs and hold him over through a life without any positive touch from anyone. It wasn't ever completely ideal when he knew (supposedly, by his male friends' unsuccessful encouragements) that women felt much better. And looked much better in the flesh than the adult content he read. But he wouldn't know what he was missing out on anyway, would he? Therefore it was all irrelevant.

It's just that he didn't trust anyone to get that close. Phinks had tried to persuade him a time or two, on rare occasions the Troupe hit up a club or bar for whatever reason. Asking him to try and aim for a girl to take home. But Feitan always refused.

"Could be spy or enemy," he would always insist with a huff. And his friends would then proceed to tell him he's too up-tight before running off to find their own temporary mistresses for a scandalous night. He would watch, perhaps feeling a tad left out but not affected enough to complain about it.. knowing full well that if he even tried, he would fail. He wasn't the charming type who could take a girl to bed after just one conversation. There was just no way he could pull that off and he didn't want to get laughed at by the others when it inevitably happened.

Phinks had a confident and self assured masculine presence about him that women were attracted to. He was also big and fit. Shalnark was clever and had a kind of boyish playfulness that often made the girls laugh when he talked. What did Feitan have? A sharp tongue and a grand total of 5ft of height.

As a result, Fei was then left to take over watch for the evening when he returned to base by himself. Someone had to do it, he told himself.

Chrollo would gaze at him as he stepped back into the building solo, giving a sigh. "Just you?" He'd ask.

"Yeah." He'd mumble. And they both understood what had happened.

He was 28 now and he'd continued to deny himself sex for what he considered his own safety. He wasn't ready for all that. Although, perhaps Feitan would have changed his mind had he known what kind of first time he would have. If he'd had any sort of experience then maybe all this repressed desire that he'd deliberately stuffed deep down, wouldn't be resurfacing at a crucially horrible time.

To his dread, all of this made his body so incredibly ready, but his brain was panicking and running in the polar opposite direction as his dick.

Why couldn't it be with a girl he actually tolerated? He'd literally just met her today. And all he knew about her was how she didn't respond to torture, and how her personality annoyed him. In fact, her hauty little attitude was peeving to him, enough that he began to dislike her in such a short amount of time. Or at least he thought he did? She was irritating indeed. But only because she'd bested him. He wouldn't admit to that, so really, who's fault was it?

He could be as horny as humanly possible but it wouldn't change the fact he didn't trust her. Not one bit. He was certainly having intrusive paranoias that she might pin him down and kill him like this if he gave in too much.. if she caught him too weak and distracted. So, he'd protest against his body with his verbal and mental self control. Easy. He had pretty steadfast faith in his willpower.

He just had to endure. Do this ridiculous form of reverse interrogation, if it meant securing crucial information. If he had pride in anything at all in this lifetime, it was that he always carried his weight in the Troupe. He was supposed to be the most reliable by his own self imposed standards. Damn this woman, for having something they needed so badly. And demanding something like this of him, in exchange for it. She must know she had sizeable leverage here.

Feitan always took what he wanted by force. He was a thief, after all. This route suddenly being unavailable to him was difficult to accept. Why did SHE get to have the upper hand and make such a mess of him?

He didn't answer her question about his virginity. Because it shouldn't matter to her. This was an empty business dealing. A bargain. She didn't deserve any scrap of knowledge about him as a person.. or what he has and hasn't lived through.

"Will you be a good boy for me and give me an answer?" she cooed. And Feitan found himself tensing, fists balling up tight as she leaned forward, stomach to stomach, lips lowering to caress his sensitive left ear as she whispered.

"You really don't need to though... I know a touch starved man when I see one. Every time I move, you make the cutest little faces. You've never been touched before by a woman, have you?" She nibbled gently on his ear in a manner that could almost be considered playful. But it made him jump, barely suppressing a yelp of surprise. Thank heavens he was on such high alert.

"Perhaps if you did... You wouldn't have such a stick up your ass." She gave a sly giggle. He was seeing red by now, especially with that irritating little sound she made.

His blood was boiling and Feitan had to practically chew on his tongue to keep from blindly strangling her. She wouldn't have anything smart to say then, would she? But he endured. For Chrollo. For the Troupe. "...fuck you," was all he could say, with all the passion and loathing in the world. His eyes bore daggers into hers as she stared him down, face to face, her lip curling into a coy expression.

"Yes dear, that's the idea. Be patient, you'll get to have that soon."

Feitan gave a sharp gasp as she smoothed her hands up his sides, molding around the shape of his slender waist, and reaching up to his toned arms. Her weight.. her scent.. the softness of her body.. he was pinned down and forced to take it all in. She was truthfully so much woman to experience, in comparison to his contrasting form of high muscle density. She was purely such a visage of femininity.

He was learning that being obsessively alert towards her every movement to ensure his safety had its drawbacks; suddenly hyper aware of the way her back arched into graceful curve when she lifted her hips to hover a little higher above him. Teasingly, her thighs spread like butterfly wings, lowering slowly till they were plush and soft against his abdomen in a tight straddle. Fuck.

"You're acting as though I intend to hurt you. I promise I'll be so gentle with you. Besides, if you really, truly couldn't stand the thought of fucking me, then - you would've declined this exchange offer. Wouldn't you? You're no pushover." She was slithering down closer to his neck now, and he felt his blood pressure rise, his heart rate doing the same as his instincts told him to protect his main arteries. His vitals where her lips were slowly advancing on him.

"Oh, dear... it's feeling a little too tight right here isn't it?" Feitan wasn't prepared for the moment she palmed him without warning, applying some pressure to send a little shockwave through his body, and he bit his lip to stifle any reaction.

"You're so terribly turned on for me right now, isn't that right, Feitan?"

"Not that simple," he spat back resentfully. She should know that. He despised what she was suggesting right now. Was she arrogant enough to think he lusted for her? His defiant thought was interrupted as she moved to reposition her hips a little lower yet again. She planned to gradually inch her way down bit by bit it seemed.. And he held his breath to keep it together through those short moments where her shifting weight provided him with some rubbing sensations to his groin, teasing his undeniably aching hard cock.

Yes.. he felt a bit of a stirring urge just now, admittedly, after watching the lewd way she opened her body up to him. But he rejected the feeling as much as he could, while simultaneously realizing he really wished there wasn't a barrier of clothing in the way.

By now her hair was cascading around him, tickling his collarbones, and he could feel her plush ass settling between the dipped junction of his thighs and hip bones. Not to mention, even through her clothing, he could make out a few anatomical details from between her legs, and determine that his dick was settled right where her clit would be. Torturously separated by undergarments and pants. Despite that, he could still feel a faint warmth, assumingly radiating from her core.

He had truthfully only ever been able to dream of sex before. Feitan knew he was undesirable to women. Short in stature and quite tense in appearance - he was also just as abrasive, cold, and detached as a man could possibly be. Any girl with a scrap of self preservation knew to avoid him.

He was lacking in physical traits that were appealing in terms of social norms, and even moreso in personality. He'd written off the idea of sexual connections entirely, and years ago at that, unwilling to try and be more approachable to achieve it. So, this happening so quickly, not only did it confuse him horrendously - why this woman seemingly thought a chance at his unappealing body was worth a damn dime, but furthermore, his unpreparedness and desperate yearning betrayed him.

He'd only ever fucking daydreamed of being buried balls deep in a hot, tight pussy belonging to a stunning woman such as her. It was so difficult not being tempted now that his own genitalia was hungrily drinking in whatever faint hints of warmth he could cling onto from beneath the crotch of her jeans, like a mouse still clings to its bait from within the trap it's sprung.

As more thoughts of denial crossed his mind, reminding himself he couldn't give in so easily, his eyes ended up transfixed on a pretty view from within the open window of her blouse. Round, full breasts that looked even softer than plump pillows.

Feitan gave a hard swallow as he felt the woman's breath fan over his neck. Was this what a rabbit felt like, cowering under a fox's intentful eye? Or even.. what his victims felt like beneath his malicious aura? A moment later she was kissing there, with surprising reserve. He'd half expected her to voraciously pounce him. He said nothing, struggling to refuse all the impulses he had to end her and this situation right now, while also quietly gulping for air as his lungs compressed inward. Again, no fucking warning was given.

He paused as his brain processed what he was feeling, being kissed. He had not expected such tenderness and it oddly made his ribcage tighten. He just had to endure. Endure. That one goal.. that one mindset was all he could drill into himself at the moment to get through it. Dammit, he could survive anything, which was why he agreed. This was extremely temporary. Hell, he likely wouldn't even be harmed. So it made logical, practical sense to accept the exchange. Suffer temporarily.. and gain a long lasting win for the Troupe. His mind had always worked this way for means of survival. Prioritizing was a skill he had to learn.

Feitan's breath was a bit labored by now, as this woman's kissing continued, and he did also notice as she began to deepen the level of intensity with which she explored the junction of his neck. Tingling butterfly kisses became more sensual and wanton. Her mouth was warm.. her tongue was smooth as she left circling patterns over his skin and then sucked softly here and there at her leisure.

He just needed to focus on something else. Anything else. The creaky ceiling fan above began to look hazy.

Fuck... Fuck, fuck.. she sounded fantastic right now, hungrily suckling on him and moaning in satisfaction as if she couldn't get enough of him. Her sighs were pleasing to his ears. He wanted to just throw caution to the wind, ignore her commands despite his promise, and flip her over into the mattress. All this, to brutally fuck her into submission until she screamed out his name -

Dammit, no- stop it.

He couldn't do that. He couldn't succumb. It was hard to focus on something else. Anything else. But he was grounded in the moment by the sensation he couldn't ignore, no matter how unshakable his willpower typically was.

Her lips were.. oh so soft. He could not block out the slight details, like the wet remnants where her intimate path had left behind, and the cold rush that followed if any surrounding air were to billow past. "So pale," she commented on his complexion, once she'd abruptly pulled away, to Feitan's surprise. Her voice unexpectedly was lacking that same sense of mockery as before. It caught him off guard and he struggled to catch back up again before she was already upon him like before. Why now, did she sound so doting?

"....you're so fucking pretty." She cooed.

I am?

He almost answered aloud.

It was mortifying that such a simple compliment made his ears redden at the tips. Did she really think that about him? He wasn't used to receiving them. It was certainly a first if someone thought that way about him, with his prominent stress lines aging his skin from years of jaw clenching and tension.. and his tired, exhausted eyes. He was too small to be attractive and too cold on the surface to draw people in. How could he be beautiful to someone with eyes?

"You wanna watch me touch myself before I play with you? Maybe then you'll appreciate it more, since you're still trying to resist what your body wants,"

She made the suggestion as she scooted back a little more, notably removing the pressure off his member for a moment, but he was somewhat relieved when it returned a second later after having been positioned to sit upright. He didn't resist.

Feitan was quiet for a moment, unsure of what to do or what to look at, as she wordlessly started to unbutton her pants. He thought he was going to have a moment of recovery time, his gaze and his thoughts distracted momentarily as he noticed some of her blood from before still caked against the steel chair he had set up for interrogations. He was about to contemplate how he ended up here.. but he was snapped back into the present when he felt her other free hand wrap around his neck.

"Kiss me.. but I also want you to watch closely. That's going to be one of my demands, actually. Don't take your eyes off my fingers as I show you how to touch women. You need to learn it."

She didn't hesitate to connect their lips into a heated kiss - suckling rather lewdly on him. He was preoccupied dealing with this, noticing she tasted sweet yet a little metallic at the same time.. probably some remnants of her blood still lingering on her mouth. He didn't mind it, being utterly desensitized to all things gore related, moreso just bothered by the fact that this was intense and he was slightly overstimulated.

His ears picked up on a sound other than the exchange of wet kisses, however, and a brief moment of confusion passed when he realized what he might be hearing. Instantly, he pulled away from her, eyes lowering to determine if he was right.

He almost gave a strangled gasp at the sight, but instead kept the outward response limited to his expression. Her drooling cunt was presented to him clearly, seated in his lap and weeping with aroused lubrication. It aided her two fingers as she rotated them skillfully in a steady pattern, drawing his attention in to the point of unhealthy fixation as he observed her getting off right on top of him.

"Fei.. Feitan.. are you watching me..? You should be watching and learning.. maybe I'll let you touch me like this if you're good to me.."

She was panting softly, her other arm wrapped around his shoulders to hold herself up, and thoughtlessly, he found himself grasping onto her to keep her still, assisting her in maintaining this position. He just watched. Hungrily drinking in every minute detail.

He was still quite resistant to all this physical touch, but mostly just struggling to accept that he was feeling a profound reproductive response throbbing from his nether regions, begging him to receive more attention from a girl who perhaps wanted him. Hell, the amount of wet slick clinging to her fingers and glistening in the candlelight definitely suggested she did. Maybe this wasn't all just mock him, after all.

He would never admit it.. but perhaps it was stupid of him to expect that this wouldn't affect him at all. That he could just defy his urges because he was stubborn and egotistical. "I can't wait to have you," she whined, with her fingers submerged up to the base of her knuckles inside her pretty hole.

This declaration left him shaken. Such a crude implication in all these words. Feitan found himself giving a helpless huff of exasperation, realizing he might think she could look cute bouncing on his cock. He was in awe, listening so intently to the heavenly sounds of female masturbation.. and becoming acquainted with the wet symphony of her fingers massaging and stretching her insides. He really liked these noises.

The steady waves of arousal that rode through his body made him grip the sheets just a little tighter when she promised to fuck him. Scatteredly, he thought to himself.. is this what it is like, to feel desirable? She said she couldn't wait to have him. God.. it was good when she said it that way. Would she say more nice things to him maybe? Even if he didn't ask? Cuz he wouldn't.

"It feels so good when you watch me, Feitan.. watch how I touch my clit.."

And he did. His intense gray hues were full of fire as his gaze bore into the space where her fingers worked, noticing the precise movements and how she would rotate between penetrative stimulation, and then back to slowly rubbing circles against the sensitive bud of her clitoris. Her pink pussy reminded him of a pretty flower, spreading apart the petals to play with the sweet nectar leaking from within.

"You want to feel like this too..? Let me teach you how to have some fun.. since you're such an overworked man."

She began to sit up, and he stayed put, still in a trance and unsure of himself this far into it. "I want your mind to be empty for a while. Wouldn't that be so nice? For a stressed and weary man like you? It's about time you got to try it too... The same kind of fun your teammates get to have with the pretty little things they find off the streets or from the bars after a mission. The fun Chrollo has had.. and likely even a creep like Hisoka too.. don't you think you deserve it as well?"

But there was no turn to speak when he found his lips claimed again by hers, melding between the spaces of his own. Her hands, they ghosted up his wrists and intertwined fingers, pressing him needily down into the springy mattress below. It gave a creak under the shifting weight distribution.

Feitan growled softly, making a grimace, but she wasn't going too fast surprisingly. The kisses were lingering, and Feitan was just seeing how all of this felt for the first time. Whether he liked it or not, and with her - this was likely the first and last time he'd ever experience this common phenomenon which was a miracle in his personal books. Curiosity existed deep down inside his mind, naturally. The more she coaxed him in with little addictive samples of touch, the more he was seduced into temptation towards her words. She was.. persuasive. Not just with her honey sweet promises but with her body too. He kind of resented her for it.. for making him feel so fragile.

He didn't kiss her back - he still didn't know how, and he was embarrassed that it might be obvious. Feitan was suddenly shy and clamming up quickly, but he was enduring. Doing as he'd promised.

His genuine surprise began to really set in when he felt something strange on his head. He hadn't noticed through her attempts to make out with him that her hand had slipped away and was now tangling up through his hair. The dark raven locks sifted between her fingers as she began to.. pet him?? It was more like little strokes, in a gradual pattern. He felt the resulting sensation against his head to actually be rather soothing for his headache. He almost always had headaches...

"W-What.. why ..." He had broken away to voice his dumbfounded concern. "Relax," she tried, and Feitan scowled. "No," he retorted. Still stubborn as ever. But something in her expression gave him the feeling that his attitude didn't actually bother her.

He doubled back when she leaned forward suddenly, to stare him down and whisper softly. A challenge in her eyes. "I could be a whole lot meaner to you, interrogator. I really could. I'm being so gracious to you, after all you've done to torment me earlier."

He just stared back at her, but his look was more calculating this time. Trying to test her boundaries here and figure out how far he could still push her, without receiving concequences. Because Feitan knew he could endure torture if that's what she was suggesting. He had before and he would do it again if he had to. To him, it was not a foreign experience by any means.

If anything, the current situation was more challenging, and more frightening. Still, the problem was that if she hurt him, he was sure he'd go ballistic, and murder the Troupe's one potential source of information. He had to stay put.

"Good," she praised, as if she could see the moment he mentally accepted his fate through reasoning. He just ignored her. He would stop questioning her actions so long as it didn't hurt.

"I'm going to start now." Even with a warning, Feitan experienced a bit of a shock as she slipped her hands beneath his garments, a slight gasp of fright, at fingers caressing his bare flesh. "My, I can tell you're a beautiful man beneath the thick clothes. You're so stunning, you know that?"

Feitan shuddered, finding himself baffled by the compliments, and unable to refuse the flush overcoming his body from more rare flattery. But it was still strange to him, her tactics, and how she spoke to him with a voice that wasn't commanding.. but moreso sweet and cunning. The confidence was jarring, because he felt he couldn't offset her goals here even with his insults if he tried. It made it tempting to give up the act. Nothing was working - his stoicism tactic was crumbling. He didn't know how to combat an approach that was so.. passive. Her tone was always sappy, like sugary syrup, since the start of this. Was this seduction? Why the fuck would anyone want to put the effort into seducing him anyway?

Feitan's muscles continued to retract and tense beneath her touch, feeling her fingers slide down the plains and ridges of his stomach. Couldn't she just fuck him already and get it over with? The more he complained though, the more she seemed to punish him by dragging it all out. He repressed a sigh of impatience.

This was taking fucking ages. And the warm stirring in his nether regions was getting a little more unbearable than even she was to him, with how painful his erection was growing. The surging bloodflow literally hurt to a degree. That stunt she pulled a bit ago with her fingers in her cunt really left him hopeless when it came to any prior potential recovery. He was doomed and horny beyond fucking belief.

With her descending movement he was suddenly, painfully aware of plush breasts cushioning themselves against his chest. His next breath was a bit heavier, and he would tell himself it was the extra weight. She was kissing him again.. it was like she was trying to condition him or something. Because it was getting a lot more bearable, out of frequent exposure. He was acclimating to the circumstances by repetition.

She wasn't saying anything to him but she did suddenly begin pushing him along into new territory by steadily rocking her hips in a sensual, hypnotic rhythm.

"Oh fuck.."

Feitan hissed at the new sensation before spitting out a curse. He legitimately couldn't spare the thought to be humiliated because the rush of relief was so fucking good. The teasing.. it all must've been deliberate, because now, he could really only think of chasing more and more of this feeling. It was just a natural reaction that he had no true willpower over.

She was using his whole stubborn act against him with the subtle, light stimulation. The fucking bitch was teasing him even more now, giving him scraps when he wanted a feast.

"How is it? It's going to get much better for you soon," she told him, and he ignored her again. He was busy trying to handle this sudden overload of sensory input all at once. His cold hands had shot up to grip her waist where the pleasing motion was coming from as she began again, hearing the bed creak in rhythm with the rocking. It was just a little bit of rubbing, getting him off through his clothes - but it was enough to make him feel extra warm down there. He groaned in a mixture of annoyance with her clever tactics, as well as more relief when he started matching her motions with a furious amount of insistence. He just wanted his cock stimulated now, that's all he cared about anymore, god dammit.

"How do you think it will feel, being inside me? We haven't even gotten close to the real thing. You're not ready. I knew I'd have to be patient with you.. but you're getting there."

It struck him as peculiar that she cared even remotely whether or not he was ready. In truth he didn't think he ever could be, but he was also not able to pay much mind to her words when he found himself preoccupied noticing other things.

The grace to her motions, the pressing sensation of her tits with every roll of her body, flush against his chest for his viewing pleasure. He was watching her spine do the work, observing the curvature of her hips and ass. What a strange way to move. Yet he found himself mindlessly enraptured. Hypnotized. He was slipping, enough not to consider trying to regain his composure now.

Fuck.. she was sexy. Always had been. He had definitely been eyeing her before during the interrogation when he was in charge of the power dynamic - he just doubted she'd notice. But there were other signs. The dragging of icy cold metal, from his tools - over compromising areas.. hoping to see a reaction. Elated, and delighting in it if there was. Even if all he got was a gasp or some goosebumps. She was a work of art. With or without his angry blades carving and bleeding crimson designs into her. Instead, apparently, he'd get to pierce into her a different way.

He didn't resist too much now, trying to just get through this with minimally damaged pride, as she kept grinding on him and soon returned back to kissing him. He didn't actively pull away or reject her anymore, nor did he return the gestures. He just sat like a puppet for use, letting her use his lips, and paying attention to how it actually felt.

Feitan's shoulders eased up a tad bit as he focused solely on that warm pit growing in his stomach. It was liberating, as well as the fact that his prior pounding head was ebbing away into something empty. Thoughtless. Perhaps it was the strokes through his hair that made him release tense muscles that he hadn't even realized were strung up tight. Or the comfort of her warmth.

Feitan had really overworked himself within the Troupe, because his duties were all he had left for a sense of purpose. It was typically something he took too far. No breaks. He was just up-tight in general, as a human being. So such a sudden release of all this pent up repression was kind of unfathomable. His mind was turning off slowly..all that could be left was primal instinct.

His victim opened her mouth and traced the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip - an open mouthed kiss for the first time was enough to make him shake, feeling a twitch between his legs, and he released his tight fists from the sheets to ball up in the material of her shirt.

He gave consistent puffs of air accompanied by a gasp or two between their tongues twirling. Without his noticing, he'd begun rolling his hips willingly, slowly in sync to meet with her fluid movements every now and again. It was truthfully a relief. he panted quietly as her hands yet again reached up to grope and feel him beneath his long tunic.

"You're feeling good, aren't you? You look so stunning. So relaxed. This is truly all I wanted from you." She purred warmly and lifted a hand to brush a few strands of hair away from his face. He winced away like a flighty, untamed cat.

Deep inside his mind, that normal part of his stubborn personality that had been melted away, yelled out that this was a trap and she must've hypnotized him with some cheap technique involving nen. He couldn't be this weak.

But since when did being weak feel so fucking good? It seemed she meant to prove her point because he realized a moment later that her head was missing. He felt her stirring to crawl beneath the thin blankets.

A groan of disappointment came from him followed at the loss of pressure around his groin area. His captor giggled. Or... Was she technically his captive victim still?

"Be a little patient for me, sweetheart. You're about to be rewarded for trying things my way. Close your eyes and relax for me, alright? I'm going to suck you off now. You're being so, so good." Being praised like a fucking pet dog was utterly humiliating, so why did his chest feel a swell of warmth?

A lurch of excitement also came suddenly with the mere possibility of receiving his first blowjob - which he kind of hated himself for too. God, he definitely had to kill this woman after they fucked if he ever wanted to see his face in the mirror and not feel his pride crumble at his feet. Where the absolute fuck was his unyielding dignity right now? He needed it. Yet the part of his mind that wanted to melt into her words and her body, told him it was fine. He could hate the woman and yet love her body simultaneously. No need to fret over it. She was making for a promising fuck so far.

"Hurry up," he demanded, and by now his blood was on fire at the sensation of lean, clever fingers lowering down his trousers slowly and pulling his out his cock, to place the tip in-between a pair of lovely lips. "I was just going to admire you for a moment.. but if you insist my love, then, as you wish." She stroked it a few times, causing him to grit his teeth.

The snug warmth that enveloped him a second later was like a fucking godsend to him. Her mouth was hot, and his dick felt great in it.

"Fuck, yes-" he cursed through gritted teeth, feeling his head fall back into place upon his pillow, a sweet sigh cascading from his mouth. His shoulders practically gave out at that moment, the usual tight expression stuck plastered to his face loosening into a blissed out look of numb content. He could see why Phinks had told him for years that he desperately needed to get laid. This was fucking great.

Feitan kind of just stayed there like that and fixated on every sensation as she got started on him. Her nails grazing over the ridges of his hip bones, her tongue prodding against the underside of his cock, then swirling across the head in a way that made him throb. She was taking her time but he didn't mind now.

Once she actually took him all the way in and started getting him off, she was messy and unapologetic with the way she sucked dick. But it wasn't unpracticed or sloppy. She blew him like a professional whore and he was a twitching, shuddering wreck. His hesitant, quiet moans were genuine, even if muffled by his hand in complete embarrassment. He was just so sensitive all over.

This woman knew how to incorporate every part of her mouth, to create the most utterly irresistible cock sleeve for his free use. Once she began to take him in deeper, he instantly loved the tight, gummy walls of her velvety throat squeezing him in a way that made him feel feral. Before he knew it, he was breathing huskily, drowning in euphoria all the while humping shallow thrusts down her throat. He couldn't help it. He could not stop.

She was salivating heavily now, creating a gutteral squelch that was muffled in the back of her mouth with every single beat of motion that had him fully sheathed, his tip kissing the part of her soft pallet which was furthest back in her throat. Better yet, she moaned after giving a slight gag, and Feitan's breath hitched as his nails dug into her head at the vibration, thin fingers dragging through her hair. "Keep.. keep on.. sucking it.. yea..." He pleaded with her mindlessly. He was sweating and hot, body heating up and flushing with more and more lust.

The dusty, echoey room was filled with a light reverberation of her gulps and his panting. He was a mess by now, head resting back on his pillow as his limbs began to feel odd. Like jelly. Was this normal at all? Whatever. He'd just keep fucking into her mouth as he pleased with wild abandon. But.. suddenly his cock was released from where he felt it should belong.

"How are we feeling?" She purred at him, after having pulled lifted the blankets to peek up at him through hopeful lashes. Feitan gave a low growl at the loss of warmth because the building, twisting sensation in his core had abruptly unravelled... Disappeared the moment she confiscated her heavenly mouth from him, holding her lips hostage away from his now twitching, aching penis.

"Why you stop?" he barked, lifting his head to glare at her. The woman just chuckled. "Enjoying it that much, huh? I thought you were supposed to be impossible to break."

He rolled his eyes.

"I only stopped because I could tell you were getting a little too close. I wouldn't want to provoke a man like you with orgasm denial. That would've pissed you off even more, wouldn't it?" She said. Her reasoning was sound of course but Feitan wouldn't say so. He also didn't like the sinister twinkle in her eye as she said that.

"Besides. I want what I came here for. What I bargained to have. I want to claim your first time, and I'm gonna take your virgin cum inside me. Once it's mine, you can't give it to anyone else the same way, ever again... Okay?"

For a second he was really questioning if she had a couple screws loose too many - but he was one to talk. He ended up deciding he didn't care enough to say anything. If she had some sort of weird fetish with the circumstances then that wasn't his business. He was just pleased that he'd get to fuck at this point.

"You know how it works?" She asked, almost teasingly, and Feitan grunted as she lifted herself up and placed her weight back down on him, her hips moreso pressed onto his tummy temporarily.

"Of course, not an idiot" he grumbled. "If you here to take innocent person, I am not."

Rude of her to assume he was that stupid. After all, he was an enthusiast about specific kinds of content that he read, which had taught him about the act and all its possibilities ages ago. Hell, he could probably put up a case that he was a shit ton less innocent than she was, based on that kind of exposure alone - but he wouldn't make the attempt. Maybe she liked hardcore BDSM comics too, judging on the way she had him purposefully pinned with her straddled legs whenever given the opportunity.

"I'm going to take you inside me now and ride you, ok?" She seemed to be trying to distract him momentarily from what was happening in case he was nervous but really, Feitan was just antsy and getting tired of waiting. He wanted that empty headed, mind numbing, drugged out feeling he had earlier which made his fucking brain empty.

"Just fuck me already, whore. No more wait," he huffed. Seems he could remember the word after all.

The girl laughed. "Talk to me like that again and you might regret it," she practically purred. He found it a bit alarming and strange that her threats always came in a chiming tone of voice. Such a light, upbeat way of saying it made him suspicious of what might happen if he did it again. He'd never seen such a tactic before. MAYBE he could admit to himself that it was a little frightening.. but he'd never give her that satisfaction.

"Now, you are to do exactly what I tell you.. this is about what I want, so you're going to just lay there and take it obediently until I'm all finished with you, kay~? You've been so wonderfully compliant and I'd hate to have to wring submission from you the hard way."

She spoke with a sly smile as he watched her arms cross over her torso and latch beneath her slightly blood splattered shirt. Another reminder of the pain he inflicted her with earlier, and how she somehow still wanted anything to do with him. It was beyond his understanding.

He watched attentively as she undressed herself completely, starring in silence as he realized this was his first time seeing a real woman completely bare. Her skin was smooth.. she was admittedly very pretty and well built. Any other guy might even say he was lucky. But right now his eyes were stuck on some of the wounds he'd given her during their interrogation. It left him baffled how they seemingly didn't bother her.. but seeing marks on her by his hand oddly amped up his arousal a bit. He'd left a few imprints on her nice little figure. She could lay claim onto him by saying she took his first time.. but her scars would last visibly forever. She was *his* first.

"You can touch.. you have my permission," she told him, and he huffed softly. He didn't need her permission, he was just going to do what he wanted to. He didn't particularly like this woman but he enjoyed how she felt and how she looked. That didn't have to have anything to do with her actual personality or their relationship of course. He could still just kill her after this, so Feitan didn't hesitate to reach for her tits and grab at them greedily with eager hands.

Arms outstretched, be began to knead them, quite interested in the way they moved. Not exactly what he had ever imagined in person but he sure as hell wasn't disappointed. Soft, and almost squishy, pooling in between the spaces of his fingers anytime he massaged them. He didn't notice that he was somewhat wearing his fascination on his sleeve here, eyes transfixed and hungry.

To his surprise she made a sound, the moment his thumbs grazed over pink nipples. A little shuddering breath - and his eyes shot up to her face, completely in awe over the idea that HE had caused that this time. So far she had only done things to him.. she hadn't let her composure slip until now.

Feitan found himself wanting more of that,to establish more control - before he could even stop himself. Though.. he wasn't the one in charge here. It was part of the bargain that Feitan follow her directions. Do what she wanted. And to his utter dumbfounded confusion she seemed to want to focus her efforts on him, instead of forcing him to do all the work. It made no fucking sense to him what she could gain by eliciting reactions from him.

His dick still wet from her mouth, she pushed his coat fully up to his hips, motioning for him to remove it entirely, and he reluctantly did so without a word. He sat up, pulling it over his head, finding himself merely a few inches away from her chest once he had tossed the article over the edge. Before he could lay back down fully however, she stopped him, lacing her arms around his ribcage. "Stay right here," she whispered. "Look at me, for every second and every inch that I take of you inside me."

The order made his stomach flip flop in a weird sort of way, but again he would wordlessly follow it, jolting as he felt her fingers wrap back around his swollen need. Her thumb brushed between the slit of his pink head, teasingly smearing a bit of precum over the top, and then he felt her begin to guide his length where it needed to be. Somehow, in that one frozen moment in time, he realized many things. That he was quivering, holding his breath, hands lowering to grip needily at her hips and pull her down prematurely straight onto his throbbing cock so he might feel the perfect sensation of sexual pleasure once again. That warm stimulation he had become acquainted with by her mouth just a bit earlier.. he really really needed that back for some reason.

Feitan gave his first real groan as soon as she stopped his insistent behavior, placing a hand on his chest, meanwhile she simply lowered herself to align him with her sopping cunt. He could feel the heat emitting from inside her..

And at that moment it dawned on him how he really felt about this. He was ready. He wanted to have sex with her and he felt prepared, thanks to her slow acclimation techniques.

He wouldn't say anything about it but it was subtly present in the way he adjusted his grip to hold on to her a little differently, to assist in her descent.

He sure didn't know what he was in for.. but he was about to find out that the beginning.. was all child's play.

She had some plans for him, that were intended to break him down further.

[justforbooks]

What in Me Is Dark by Orlando Reade

Orlando Reade’s fascinating study of John Milton’s famous work, through the eyes of myriad readers from Malcolm X to white supremacists, shows how it has provoked the widest range of responses and interpretations

In Dan Brown’s thriller Angels and Demons (2000), the protagonist, Robert Langdon, combs the Vatican archives for proof that the astronomer Galileo Galilei was involved with the sinister secret society known as the Illuminati. He is stunned to discover a manuscript containing four cryptic lines of poetry, not in Latin or Italian, but, his companion tells him, “written in English”. “English?” Langdon gasps, disbelievingly (the breathy italics, just two of hundreds of examples in the novel, are both Brown’s). Not only are the lines in English (English? English!), but their author, despite belonging to a clandestine group, has obligingly put his name to them: “The poem is signed John Milton.” Even as Langdon’s mind boggles, it helpfully spells out the relevant facts: “John Milton? The influential English poet who wrote Paradise Lost?… he was still dazed over the document’s spellbinding implications.” Warning – more italics incoming: “John Milton was an Illuminatus.” While the revelation might not quite be as mind-blowing as those to come in Brown’s next novel, to literary buffs the prospect of Milton the Illuminatus might be almost as sacrilegious as the idea of Christ’s fruitful loins at the end of The Da Vinci Code.

It’s arguably too easy – albeit enjoyable – to make fun of Brown’s overblown plotting and prose. What makes this episode worthy of note is that it is just one entertainingly silly instance of Milton’s remarkable tendency to pop up in unexpected places in the centuries since his death, like some kind of poetically visionary, ferociously erudite, fervently anti-monarchical jack-in-the-box. This tendency is the subject of Orlando Reade’s thoughtful, wide-ranging and astute book. In 12 short and elegant chapters, Reade examines a range of contexts in which – and writers for whom – Milton’s great epic poem Paradise Lost has come to matter, both as an object of fascination in its own right, and as a flexible instrument with which to probe and ponder a variety of psychological, social and political predicaments. Each chapter has a chief protagonist, but arrays around them a set of contemporaneous responses to Milton that adds richness and texture to the narrative.

Some of the figures upon whom Reade focuses, and their Miltonic preoccupations, are quite well known, such as Thomas Jefferson, William and Dorothy Wordsworth, and George Eliot. His selection as a whole is, however, deliberately and challengingly eclectic, pushing us to consider the whole gamut of responses that a great writer can inspire. There is a particularly fine and insightful chapter on the use made of Milton by prominent figures in the Haitian revolution, for whom a literary sensibility was “a crucial indicator of the capacity for self-government”: Jean Louis, Baron de Vastey, claimed that it was not the liberated Black Haitians, but rather their former masters, who were “like the infernal spirits” conjured by “the immortal Milton”. Reade also richly explores the counterintuitive acuity with which Malcolm X read Milton’s works while imprisoned. “Malcolm’s ability to interpret was the foundation of his political activism,” Reade argues, and his “rejection of western civilisation was an epic act” in which he both read Paradise Lost against the grain and captured something of Milton’s own internally divided energies.

The readability and economy of Reade’s book is all the more impressive given the sheer amount of information on which his account relies. He explains at the outset that the book will be accessible to “someone who hasn’t read Paradise Lost”, and he achieves this by threading a summary of the poem’s action, enlivened by frequent citation, through the book’s chapters, juggling it with contextual information about the later figures whose engagements with Milton he describes. Inevitably this strategy is not always successful. Some of the summaries could have allowed in more of the texture of Milton’s poem, and a few of the potted biographical portraits have an inescapably Wikipedia-like tone to them (“Born in 1882, Virginia Stephen grew up in the upper-middle-class idyll of Hyde Park Corner, London…”; “Cyril Lionel Robert James was born in Trinidad in 1901”).

Not all of the chapters convincingly show that Paradise Lost mattered to their central figures – this is especially the case with the account of Hannah Arendt, which is insightful on her relationship with her one-time teacher and lover, the philosopher and Nazi Martin Heidegger, but light on actual Miltonic engagements. Overall, however, Reade is to be applauded for a remarkable feat of distillation and elucidation as he ranges adroitly across historical time and geographical space in search of Paradise Lost’s afterlives, sprinkling his calm and precise prose with an occasional sparkle of impishly absurd simile (in the space of two pages, Satan and Beelzebub on the fiery lake “hold their heads above the surface of the water, like two lizards in a Jacuzzi”; God heaps endless suffering on Satan “like a tourist at a bottomless buffet”, and Satan contemplates his minions’ prospects in hell “like a tech chief executive contemplating child labourers in a mineral mine”.

The finest and most difficult balance that Reade successfully strikes is between lauding Milton as a rich resource for those in search of inspiration and of freedom, and recognising the abhorrent characteristics of his imagination that have made him amenable to his more repulsive interpreters: these include Milton-worshipping white supremacist participants in the Mardi Gras festivities in New Orleans and in more recent times, as Reade startlingly explains, the attraction to Milton’s works expressed by the psychologist Jordan Peterson, guru of online “incels” and misogynists. These disturbing interpreters are not just wrong-headed, Reade shows; they are responding to off-putting tendencies in Milton’s own mind, which veered between assertions of human equality and the insistence that some groups – perhaps the English, or Protestants, or just Milton himself – were superior.

Reade movingly frames his account with reminiscences of his experiences teaching Paradise Lost to incarcerated students in New Jersey during his graduate student years, and recognises that Milton can be viewed both as a symbol for the individual lives crushed by the modern prison industrial complex, and as a symbol for the forces doing the crushing. As a response to such a complex and equivocal historical figure neither hagiography nor iconoclasm seems quite adequate, and Reade’s excellent book strikes a difficult and deft balance between the two.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[blackboxtheater]

https://www.tumblr.com/hmshermitcraft/761736488614608896/now-while-not-the-standard-celeberties-in-the?source=share

-👁🎭

:>

Anon, if this ask was you, then you understand me on a cellular level. I know I have shipping goggles when it comes to them, but god. We are wearing the exact same goggles my friend.

Like: There was just something about those eyes and his suit, the way that he let his intelligence shine through his jokes and comments, and the hints to the chaotic weirdness she just knew laid beneath that thin layer he held up for those who didn't know him well.

And: Mumbo...found himself in an odd predicament as he seemed to have fallen hard for the astrophysicist who had used his machines to make such astronomical discoveries.

*aggressively points* That. That's it. You get it.

(Side note: our little fandom doesn't have anyone writing modern AUs, so if you wanted to/were willing to expand this into a whole fic, I'm sure there would be an audience....just saying. I'm being selfish. The audience is me, I want to read this. I mean, she uses HIS MACHINES to explore space?????? I'm dead. I'm obsessed.)

[emotionally-charged-arson]

Political Machinations, Source (Ayreon) Edition

Have some headcanons.

Whatever country on Alpha the story takes place in is a presidential democracy. You never really get into specifics, but there’s two “abnormal” points to consider: legislation moves considerably faster than, say, the US system, and immigrants are allowed to run for president so long as they are naturalized citizens having lived in the country for ten years.

About two years pre-‘Frame takeover, the dominant political party was a group of standard pro-industrialization idiots, whose actions had just come back to bite them in the ass what with the pollution and withdrawal of aid from international powers over petty fights and such. The president (not Russell) eventually resigned halfway through his term in total defeat, kickstarting a new election. This is done two years after another abrupt resignation by Simone Simons (Counselor), his personal therapist, who saw how volatile things had become in the political sphere and didn’t want to be involved anymore.

The next most powerful party in government for the last five years had been a group called the Conservationists, environmentalists led by The Opposition Leader, who we’ll just call Tommy, an argumentative political minister with a history of ecoterrorism early in his career. This is where most of the album characters naturally place their loyalties, on account of them being mostly scientists who like the focus on rejection of unnecessary technology and healing of the planet and such. Said characters form a sort of “inner circle,” existing outside of politics but still using influence to push the party’s agenda, sometimes using underhanded tactics:

The Biologist (Floor) is the technical founder of the party, organizing support and pushing Tommy into politics a little over ten years pre-TDTTWD. She continues influencing policy, public image and recruitment.

The Captain (Tobias) is an engineer with billions in inheritance money and influence over the space program he’s happy to drain into the cause, so long as they entertain his ideas of leaving Alpha entirely. They have an odd, careful agreement that they’ll let him go nuts with his exodus spaceship antics, but only if things are REALLY hopeless. He has personal motivation as well, having known Tommy for over almost twenty years.

He’s also unintentionally helpful to public opinion of the party, as he’s native to the country, while the other “bosses” (Tommy and Floor), are both immigrated.

The Historian (James) conducts funded research in environmental history at the capital city university lots of characters are affiliated with. He’s publicly affiliated with the party, leaving him on thin ice with said uni (on account of them desperately accepting funding from shady sources that support “over-evolution” and rejection of natural preservation as a necessity. This leads to to massive bias in research and teaching within the institution, sometimes going as far as outright censorship). But he’s crafted a very odd strategy to support the Conservationists and still keep his position, that is publishing work with wildly opposing viewpoints so the school can’t accuse him of leaning one way or the other. So like, he’ll write a scathing commentary on increasing lack of breathable air in lower city levels and its causes, and before he can be targeted for it he’ll whip out a journal article about how it’s actually totally fine if all the fish are dying because it’s good for the economy. He feigns neutrality through pure confusion while the actual party uses select research of his to promote their cause.

The Astronomer (Hansi) is in a similar predicament. He’s a high level professor with ties to Floor, who abandoned a teaching career herself to join in on Tommy’s politics and tried to take Hansi with her. He refused initially, too attached to his job security to take a risk like that. He did eventually join in, but only after the party came to more substantial power (and when the state of the planet got substantially worse). His situation is a peculiar one, though. He’s still intent on keeping his job, but uses it for the party’s benefit. In short he preaches their ideology in his completely unrelated astronomy classes, in hopes of educating and swaying younger people (often coming from very wealthy backgrounds) to their efforts. Amazingly, he’s been able to do this for years without being suspected on a large scale. Floor is the only one that even knows about his involvement.

The Prophet and The Preacher (Nils and Zaher) are exactly that. Religious figures that run a local, newly popular religion related to the Universal Migrator.

The Migrator’s existence is a relatively new discovery, made at this capital university, and the nature of it caused people to question already established religions on Alpha. It’s an actual answer to the deepest questions in the known universe, and it destabilized faith in other higher powers while spawning a religion of its own, with Zaher being one of its earliest public figures. A few years later, Nils gained his prescience spontaneously, and attributed it to The Migrator which he learned about through his research in theoretical astronomy. In reality Nils’ visions and the Migrator have almost no relation (it’s actually Time Telepathy but that’s a whole other can of worms), but it’s not like HE knows that. He leaves the university, declares his faith and starts working with Zaher to spread it.

The religion’s popularity skyrockets once Nils gets involved. His visions are, apparently, founded in reality. All at once, the Migrator’s existence and power is proven while also appearing to have more spiritual qualities than its hardcore scientific discovery likes to admit.

More importantly, those visions validate practically everything the Conservationists promote (the end of the world via technology, etc), and at Tommy’s request Nils and Zaher affiliate themselves with him. The party now appeals to a new and LARGE demographic, even if it alienates members of other religions. At this point the Migrator one has become the dominant faith in the country anyways.

Everything is great. We’re influencing politics in a real way. We’re making progress.

Except we’re not doing it fast enough.

So says Russell, some GUY who shows up out of nowhere trying to run for president when Tommy would otherwise have campaigned completely unopposed. His whole shtick, of course, is using the Frame to solve all the world's problems and he presents it in a very hopeful and upbeat tone. He’s recruited the singular competent person from the previous presidential administration, The Diplomat (Mike), who had lots of public favor given that he was the one keeping the shitshow in one piece for years on end. Mike vouches for him and this is very helpful but it’s supplementary to Russell's specific talents.

Against the Conservationists-their endless funding, big name supporters and heaps of evidence and political experience-Russell has something none of them do, even the previous president before him: the ability to pacify the public. Tommy and Floor, two people with insane and unchecked environmental anxiety, are very prone to using scare tactics in their politics. Promises of Alpha's destruction if they don’t heed their warnings combined with Tommy's aggressive rhetoric and tone of voice. The previous president loved deflection and false promises, standard government official behavior. But Russell is a calming, charismatic and genuinely positive person that seems almost docile next to the others, and in that he’s the 'comfortable' option. He makes people feel safe and is offering a fast, even possible solution to their suffering. People LOVE him.

This whips everyone into a panic. The Conservationists supposedly know that the Frame will turn on humanity and out of their fear, that gradually becomes the main focus of their campaign. So much power is turned against Russell that they seem even more aggressive to people than they did before, no matter what they stand for and they start losing credibility. Eventually, obviously, Russell obtains the presidency, a month before TDTTWBD.

As a show of good faith, the losers are invited to Russell's inauguration. Floor, the more reasonable of her group, is hopeful that if they play along for a while then they can corner Russell and talk him out of his Frame plan. All that goes down the drain when Russell lets a snarky comment slip during his speech and Tommy, hopeless and erratic, starts beating his lights out in public. Him and several higher ups on his side are arrested for attempted assassination, setting off a domino effect of trials and investigations (including Hansi and James) over the next few weeks as the party is legally dissolved.

From there, into the main plot, viewpoints of characters begin to unravel. Russell's whole Frame plan existed because he KNEW there was no other option, and soon enough Floor starts understanding that. All of a sudden as the literal apocalypse rages outside, Tobias’ plan has become the most reasonable, the Nils’ visions shift accordingly. Tommy is released from death row on Russell’s orders, and a hinge point of the two’s conflict is wondering if he did that out of actual compassion or because he knew Tommy would have done far more damage as a martyr. Everyone gets to grapple with how little the work they poured their lives into mattered now that Alpha is gone.

Et cetera, et cetera. Sorry I didn’t talk about Chemist, maybe he’ll have his own post. Man is his own mess that doesn’t even become plot relevant until Star of Sirrah.

[machimachilegends]

The Strongest of Yesterday & Present Predicaments

Among mortal kind, there was an individual whose might weighed within the gods' domain. A specialized guardian; a walking seal. An existence whose very thought possesses the potential to make reality bend the knee.

Mami, the individual in question, effectively held the ability to strip concepts from reality.

Yet...she was weak.

By today's standards anyways, she had been surpassed by this universe's most underrated dancers in power. A couple of magical maidens from the Nylon-hung Galaxy no one would suspect to have the world in their hands.

Although Mami never had an official encounter with the duo, she had felt their power an astronomical amount of AU away and knew right away the trouble they would bring. She thought to pay their "Earth" a visit, but detected another presence elsewhere in the cosmos and simply "removed" the distance between them.

It was an unfamiliar energy signature, but she did not fear making her presence known.

Perhaps this encounter could give Mami some insight on the machinations of the world as it is right now.

@historias-multorum

[kotaerukoto]

A young man from another universe, who walks the Path of the Trailblaze aboard the Astral Express. At first glance, he looks like a completely normal person with a penchant for suffering misfortune. At second glance, he still is an ordinary, unassuming guy… But he’s from an entirely separate branch on the Imaginary Tree. Makoto eventually joined the Nameless aboard the Astral Express with the hope that exploring this universe would help him learn the circumstances surrounding his predicament. Unknown to him, Makoto is a surviving remnant of his universe, which has been expunged from the Imaginary Tree and now only exists as a fleeting component of a bubble universe in the Sea of Quanta. Through astronomically, infinitesimally small odds, he fell through Existence and arrived in this universe. Was that fortune, or misfortune?

[joshuasumter]

Loki/Avengers Endgame have a crossover with The Ghost and Molly McGee in... The Ghost, the Trickster, and Molly McGee from The Marvel/Disney Crossover Mashup Volume 1: The Young Avengers Series SYNOPSIS: Look out, Brighton! Here comes Loki!  Everyone's favorite Asgardian God of Mischief is back! This time, this alternate version of Loki is stuck in the company of The Ghost and Molly McGee...and he's transformed into a kid!

When Loki's latest plan to rule Asgard involves the astronomical event called the Convergence and his brother Thor have caught wind of things, it all backfires and Loki lost his corporeal body. Just then, as a spirit, he was being summoned by the Ghost Council and Lady Death. To get his body and life back, a confined Loki will have to do some community service work - by playing Boogeyman with the cantankerous, grumpy ghost Scratch, who sees Loki as his idol and inspiration, in the mortal town of Brighton. Then, he's been shrunk and trapped into the body of a juvenile kid by Lady Death herself!

Loki and Scratch's parody song of "Gaston" from Beauty and the Beast (2017) gets interrupted when our ghost-and-god duo meets exuberant tween Molly McGee as her family moved into their decrepit, inhabited house. To make matters utterly ridiculous and worse, one of Scratch's spells backfired, leaving him and Loki to be mystically bound and cursed to hang out with Molly!

Now bound to work together and tied their fates together, our mischievous Asgardian and his ghostly partner are forced to go wherever Molly goes and do whatever she does, making them Molly's two best friends. And who knows? Maybe Loki's time in Brighton might be an absolute delight when he and Scratch keep getting dragged along on all of Molly's adventures and her enhappifying schemes. (After all, he's trying to stay out of Asgard's line of sight.)

The problem? Well, just as Loki was starting to get used to his unlikely friendship with Molly and Scratch, his bonds with Libby and the McGee family, his new environment in Brighton, and even close to Andrea Davenport (Because they're both prima donnas with big egos and family issues), some folks from Asgard and beyond have a score to settle with him for his past misdeeds or something much worse than just Asgardian justice. That means the likes of Prince Thor, Lady Sif, Odin, Heimdall, Amora the Enchantress, Skurge the Executioner, some Loki time variants, Cul Borson, the Asgardian God of Fear and Odin's brother/Thor's uncle; and many more are all on Loki's (and of course Molly's and Scratch's) tail.

Will this unlikely friendship between a ghost, a god, and a tween help face witches, storms, frost giants, realtors, and other crazy predicaments? Will romance bloom between Loki and Andrea since her real name may be the name of Loki's lover from the Norse myths? How will Thor, Lady Sif, and Odin react to Loki's new life? Will Loki ever get his old life and body back...or maybe what if he didn't want his old life back?

The Ghost, the Trickster, and Molly McGee explores and follows the narrative of what would happen if the events of The Ghost and Molly McGee (2021-present) occurred differently with the inclusion of Loki Laufeyson, Thor, several parody songs that are covers to existing ones, familiar references, some Asgardian folks and gods, and much more.

(Link for more details)

[simplerainbow]

It's crazy that Mac blames Itt for he's predicament cuz like right in front of he's eyes Itt getting chocked and pushed and yelled at like those are not signals of a man in control of the situation

How good must sex with a Night be cuz Gear is putting up with a astronomical amount of nonsense

Everybody is so hard on Itt. Everyone is always like God you're so useless why can't you do anything by yourself you're lucky to have Day like Day did not make him an active captive for several weeks

I said it once I'll say it again that boy's got pheromones in his blood or something where are these hot eligible gays coming from out of nowhere

I like these two actors together they look good and for the times they're allowed to be romantic it's really nice

The sudden drop every time they use that dramatic ass music is hilarious. It is never a subtle tone shift. Ever

Day is an ex Mafiaso Barber who also is the manager of a mechanic shop??

[astrologerashishsomanii]

Astrologer in Ahmedabad: Understanding Astrology and Its Advantages

Astrology has been a critical piece of human culture for quite a long time, offering insights into the inestimable powers that shape our lives. Whether you are looking for direction on private matters, profession choices, or connections, an astrologer in Ahmedabad can assist you with understanding how divine bodies influence your destiny. The old act of astrology involves studying the places of the stars and planets at the hour of an individual's introduction to the world to give forecasts, insights, and counsel.

Why Look for Astrology Direction?

Individuals frequently go to astrology for direction during troublesome times or while making significant choices. Astrology can assist with uncovering replies to questions, for example,

How might I work on my own connections?

What vocation way is best appropriate for my abilities?

Will I experience financial outcome later on?

How might I accomplish equilibrium and happiness throughout everyday life?

Visiting an astrologer in Ahmedabad can offer lucidity on these issues by helping you comprehend your own introduction to the world diagram, which outlines the special astronomical influences on your life.

Advantages of Consulting an Astrologer in Ahmedabad

Ahmedabad is known for its rich social legacy and otherworldliness, and many individuals in the city trust in the influence of astrology. Consulting an astrologer in Ahmedabad can give the following advantages:

Customized Guidance: Astrologers give customized readings in view of your individual birth graph. This graph offers extraordinary insights into your assets, shortcomings, and likely open doors, enabling you to come to informed conclusions about different parts of life.

Relationship Insights: An astrologer can assist you with understanding your relationship elements, similarity with accomplices, and ways of overcoming difficulties in adoration and marriage. By studying the places of Venus, Mars, and other planetary viewpoints, an astrologer can uncover the best ways of nurturing your connections.

Vocation Direction: Whether you are facing a vocation predicament or seeking an adjustment of your expert life, an astrologer in Ahmedabad can offer direction by analyzing the influence of planets like Saturn and Jupiter. These planets oversee achievement, desire, and development, helping you comprehend the best opportunity to make profession moves.

Wellbeing Expectations: Mysterious readings can likewise indicate potential wellbeing worries by analyzing the places of divine bodies connected with physical and mental prosperity. This can assist you with taking preventive measures and embrace a sound way of life.

Financial Estimates: Many individuals look for an astrologer's recommendation regarding financial issues. By studying the arrangement of planets like Mercury and Jupiter, an astrologer in Ahmedabad can assist you with navigating financial difficulties and open doors, ensuring better cash the executives.

Understanding the Various Kinds of Astrology

Astrologers in Ahmedabad practice different kinds of astrology, each offering alternate points of view and insights:

Vedic Astrology: This conventional type of Indian astrology depends on old sacred writings and accentuates the karmic influences of previous existences on the present. Vedic astrologers in Ahmedabad utilize this way to deal with give life readings and foresee future occasions.

Western Astrology: Well known in the Western world, this type of astrology centers around the sun sign and 12 zodiac signs. Western astrologers examine planetary developments and their effect on individual horoscopes.

Chinese Astrology: Established in Chinese way of thinking, this sort of astrology isolates individuals into 12 creature signs. Each sign is related with various character qualities and destiny ways.

End

Astrology remains an integral piece of Ahmedabad's profound and social scene. Consulting an astrologer in Ahmedabad can offer you significant insights into your own and proficient life, helping you pursue very much informed choices. Whether you're seeking clearness in connections, profession direction, or financial guidance, astrology gives an extraordinary point of view that can prompt positive results.

[sciencestyled]

Huck Finn's Comet-Chasin' Conundrum: The Prelude to a Space-Bound Spectacle

Let me tell you, Tom, how I got tangled up in the most peculiar predicament that had me scratchin' my head more than the time we thought to free Jim with that elaborate, unnecessary fuss. It all started one lazy afternoon down by the river, me just minding my own, when out of the blue, a shimmering object came crashin' down, stirring up water and fish alike. Now, I've seen shooting stars, but this here was a sight - a real piece of space, glittering and odd, with symbols that'd make a schoolmaster's head spin.

Being of curious sort, and not one to shy away from a riddle wrapped in a mystery, I pocketed the strange metal and thought nothing more of it until one evening by the fire, when that piece of sky-rock began to hum and vibrate, lightin' up like the Fourth of July. Jim said it was bad luck, but I, drawn by the glow and the hum, decided it was a sign for something bigger, something out yonder in the vast night sky.

Fast forward to me tryin' to make heads or tails of this enigma, which led me to a gathering of folk who call themselves "astronomers." They spun tales of distant worlds and treasures in the sky, much like the stories of old pirates, but with stars instead of seas. They talked of a mission to a place called Psyche, a world of metal, not unlike my mysterious river-find, promising wonders and secrets of the cosmos.

The more they spoke, the more it dawned on me: what if this piece of sky I found was a chunk of that very place? And what if, by some stroke of luck or fate, I was meant to uncover its stories? My imagination ran wilder than a hare in spring, picturing myself not on a raft down the Mississippi, but on a vessel soaring through the heavens, dodging comets and conversing with the stars.

So, armed with nothing but a piece of the cosmos, a sack of provisions, and a thirst for adventure that could rival any of our escapades, I set out to write. Yes, Tom, write. For if I couldn't hitch a ride to the stars myself, I'd do the next best thing: I'd pen a tale so vivid, so full of wonder and whimsy, that it'd inspire those earthbound souls to look up and dream of the infinite, just as I had by the river that fateful night.

This tale, "Rafting Through the Stars: Huckleberry Finn Tackles NASA’s Psyche Asteroid Mission," was more than just words on paper; it was my leap into the heavens, my way of joining that mission to the metal world. Through my story, I aimed to bridge the gap between the muddy banks of the Mississippi and the celestial rivers of space, to show that the spirit of exploration knows no bounds, be it on water or in the void.

And so, here we are, Tom. Me, scribbling away by candlelight, weaving a narrative of adventure and discovery that stretches from the familiar ripples of our beloved river to the unknown currents of the cosmos. Who'd have thought that a boy with a penchant for mischief and a runaway slave could find themselves pondering the mysteries of the universe? Yet, here I am, a testament to the boundless curiosity that drives us all, looking up at the night sky and dreaming of the wonders it holds.

Ain't life a curious thing, Tom?

[librarianrafia]

"They [Chris Wiggins and Matthew L. Jones set out to answer in How Data Happened: A History from the Age of Reason to the Age of Algorithms] begin their historical investigation at a moment they argue is crucial to understanding our current predicament: the birth of statistics in the late 18th and early 19th century. It was a period of conflict and political upheaval in Europe. It was also a time when nations were beginning to acquire both the means and the motivation to track and measure their populations at an unprecedented scale.

“War required money; money required taxes; taxes required growing bureaucracies; and these bureaucracies needed data,” they write. “Statistics”may have originally described “knowledge of the state and its resources, without any particularly quantitative bent or aspirations at insights,” but that quickly began to change as new mathematical tools for examining and manipulating data emerged.

One of the people wielding these tools was the 19th-century Belgian astronomer Adolphe Quetelet. Famous for, among other things, developing the highly problematic body mass index (BMI), Quetelet had the audacious idea of taking the statistical techniques his fellow astronomers had developed to study the position of stars and using them to better understand society and its people. This new “social physics,” based on data about phenomena like crime and human physical characteristics, could in turn reveal hidden truths about humanity, he argued.

“Quetelet’s flash of genius—whatever its lack or rigor—was to treat averages about human beings as if they were real quantities out there that we were discovering,” write Wiggins and Jones. “He acted as if the average height of a population was a real thing, just like the position of a star.” 

From Quetelet and his “average man” to Francis Galton’s eugenics to Karl Pearson and Charles Spearman’s “general intelligence,” Wiggins and Jones chart a depressing progression of attempts—many of them successful—to use data as a scientific basis for racial and social hierarchies. Data added “a scientific veneer to the creation of an entire apparatus of discrimination and disenfranchisement,” they write. It’s a legacy we’re still contending with today. 

Another misconception that persists? The notion that data about people are somehow objective measures of truth. “Raw data is an oxymoron,” observed the media historian Lisa Gitelman a number of years ago. Indeed, all data collection is the result of human choice, from what to collect to how to classify it to who’s included and excluded. 

Whether it’s poverty, prosperity, intelligence, or creditworthiness, these aren’t real things that can be measured directly, note Wiggins and Jones. To quantify them, you need to choose an easily measured proxy. This “reification” (“literally, making a thing out of an abstraction about real things”) may be necessary in many cases, but such choices are never neutral or unproblematic. “Data is made, not found,” they write, “whether in 1600 or 1780 or 2022.”"

“We don’t need to build systems that learn the stratifications of the past and present and reinforce them in the future.”

-

Algorithms are everywhere Three new books warn against turning into the person the algorithm thinks you are.

By Bryan Gardiner